All the usual disclaimers - wonderful characters are merely borrowed.
REASONS – Chapter 3, The Wizard's Pupil (2)
"What good are your books now?" hissed the Steward, but as he became aware of the sheer terror on his son's face, he lowered the knife. "I hope I've made my point." he said.
Before Faramir could answer, the door was pushed open and the child, who now felt dizzy and had started to shake, was knocked to the floor. Strong arms lifted him up, and Boromir's face registered concern as he noticed that his brother's face was the colour of parchment.
"Were you never taught to knock Boromir," asked Denethor. Boromir looked from his father to his brother, knowing that something had transpired between them. They were looking at each other, both with a markedly strange expression – Denethor looked somewhat nervous, which Boromir had never witnessed before, whilst Faramir was staring at his father with a look of total disbelief and bewilderment, and he was still trembling.
Denethor sighed. "Go now," he said to Faramir. "Do whatever you must for the remainder of the day. Tomorrow you will spend using a sword – self-defence is your main priority."
Before the child left the room, father and son caught each other's gaze, and Boromir detected both Faramir's look of accusation, and Denethor's of self-doubt, but the oldest son of the Steward was unaware that had he entered the room just seconds earlier, his beloved little brother would be dead, for the momentum of the door opening would have propelled him into the knife poised at his throat.
"Father....."
Denethor waved his hand dismissively. "Not now Boromir," he said. "Not now."
Boromir paused, unsure whether to confront his father about Faramir's obvious distress, but he decided against it, and bowed to the Steward before going in search of his brother.
Denethor was shaken. He'd only wanted to scare Faramir into recognizing the importance of battle awareness and the need to deal with the unexpected. He was convinced that the boy didn't realise the dangers he would face. Well, maybe he'd succeeded, but at what cost? He'd never been able to reach Faramir, and he accepted that this was more his fault than the boy's, for he had refused to accept his son for what he was. When he saw him, he would try and explain his actions – but he wouldn't apologise for them, for his motives were true – he didn't want his son to be murdered and mutilated by orcs, - or worse, for these abominations of life ate the flesh of man. That his good intentions could have caused such tragic consequences had unnerved the Steward, but he remained convinced that he had acted in the best interest of his child.
When Boromir finally found his brother, he was sitting against a wall on the 6th level, his knees hunched, and his hands clasped about them.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Boromir asked.
Faramir shook his head. He wanted to forget the incident, not relive it.
"Do you know why you and father clash so much?" asked the older boy.
Faramir shook his head.
"Because you're so alike."
This made no sense to the youngster. If he and his father were alike, surely they would be closer. No, it was because they were so unlike that there were problems.
"Father used to read books and study a lot when he was your age," Boromir continued. "Mithrandir told me."
From comparative disinterest, Faramir became eagerly attentive at the mention of the wizard.
"Grandfather didn't approve," said Boromir, and added, "But don't let Father know I told you," and he ruffled his brother's hair affectionately.
"Did Grandfather....." began Faramir.
"What? Did Grandfather what?"
"It doesn't matter," said Faramir quietly. He wanted to tell his brother what had happened, but knew it would cause problems between the Steward and Boromir, and if that happened, Denethor would most likely make life even worse for his youngest.
If working hard at his archery and swordplay had inspired a better relationship with his father, Faramir would have minded less the loss of his lessons with Gandalf, but the incident in the study hung ominously between them. Denethor knew that Faramir did not have the heart of a warrior, so stubbornly refused to acknowledge his improvement in all aspects of warfare, and Faramir remained a lonely little figure, as he witnessed the steadily growing relationship between his father and his brother.
Six months later.
"Did you see Father? I beat Margil, and he's two years older than me."
Faramir's face was flushed with pride and excitement as he approached his father following his victory in a duel with an older boy. It was a tournament for students to demonstrate their prowess, and Faramir had already walked away with the prize for archery.
"Very good", said Denethor, "but you need to pay more attention to your footwork. A more able opponent would have unbalanced and disarmed you."
Faramir's eyes darkened, and he glowered as he threw his sword down at Denethor's feet and walked away.
"Faramir!" The Steward called to his son angrily, but Faramir refused to respond.
Boromir was unable to remain silent. "Could you not have praised him just for once?!" he exclaimed. "He is so anxious to please you."
Denethor was angry with himself. He had only wanted to help his son improve even further, but again, he had failed to handle the situation correctly. Well, it had gone on long enough – this time, he would make amends, and with this in mind, he followed his youngest.
Faramir wasn't given to petulance often. On many occasions his father's words had reduced him to tears, but this time he just felt frustration and anger. He kicked at the ground, and hammered on the stone wall in the courtyard with his fist.
"I can't imagine that will make you feel better," said a voice behind him.
"Mithrandir!" Faramir was overjoyed to see his friend and mentor. Gandalf looked at him with affection – the boy had grown, and although there wasn't an ounce of fat to be seen, he looked strong and healthy.
"You've come a long way with the sword," he said, and Faramir's face lit up.
"You saw me?"
"I did," Gandalf replied, "and I was very proud of you."
At that, Faramir threw himself at the wizard, and hugged him tightly.
"Mithrandir," he said, "I wish you were my father".
In the shadows Denethor listened, and he felt an instant loathing for Gandalf. He had turned Faramir against him, and made him a wizard's pupil.
He walked silently away, Faramir's words both hurting and angering him.
He never attempted to heal the rift with his youngest son again.