What happens when your expectations ruin your outlook? What happens when you fall, and can't get up? What happens when you stumble, and lose your ground? What happens when you go over the edge?

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Boromir laughed weakly along with Denethor. He was making fun of Faramir. Boromir thought, Fari's right. My dad does hate him. But why? He drank some more ale, and smiled at various people in the room.

Denethor thought, Where is my fool son Faramir? He shouted, "I wonder where my other son went. Perhaps he went into hiding to rid himself of the shame?" The whole room laughed, except for Boromir. He shouted, "No, he has left this city because of the words that you taunt him with." The whole room quieted. Denethor spoke coldly, "And why should I care?"

Boromir spoke in the same tone, "You should care because you are his father. He knows that you hate him, while he has only been exceedingly loyal to your cause. You have been making him suffer ever since he broke that one plate. It was one plate, for the Valar's sake!"

Denethor stiffened. He said, "It was no ordinary plate. It was a vintage bronze plate by the Dwarves in the First Age." Boromir shouted at him, "Do you have no sympathy at all for my brother? Your own son?" With that, Boromir ran from the room.

Denethor cried out, "Wait Boromir! You cannot leave now, not while I have a task for you to do!" Boromir shouted, "I am not your puppet, Denethor! Let me take my leave, or I shall never forgive you!" With that, he leaped onto his horse, and dashed off towards Minas Tirith.

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Faramir was strolling around Fangorn forest. He loved the forest, and the trees were slowly adapting to him. Instead of tripping and whacking him, they only tripped him.

Faramir had an idea. It would take a while to complete, and was almost surely not going to work, but he had an idea.

He would try and find the fabled One Ring.

Oh yes, he had heard his father speaking about it with his closest advisors. He was going to appoint the task of getting the Ring for Gondor to Boromir. However, they didn't count on Faramir finding out.

Faramir said, "They say the Ring is at Rivendell. Boromir wants to stay in Osgiliath, while I want some of my Father's attention. This is surely one way to get it, no?"

"I don't think it is a wise way to get it."

Faramir spinned around. He saw one of the fabled Tree shepherds, an Ent, looking down at him.

He spat out, "Really? Then how do you propose I do it?"

The Ent slowly boomed, "Don't be so hasty, Master Man. There are more ways than one to show your worth to someone. You mustn't overdo yourself."

Faramir's anger calmed down. He spoke quietly to the giant Ent, "Fine. I will try and take your advice. I will not seek the Ring from Rivendell, but I will do something to show that I am my brother's equal." He clenched his fists, and gritted his teeth to hold in his inner anger.

The Ent nodded. "Good. You are progressing. It is good to know that you are holding in your anger. But do not keep it in too long, for it will wear away at your soul."

Faramir asked quietly, "My name is Faramir. What is yours?"

The Ent said, "Some call me Treebeard, some call me Fangorn. It really depends how old you are." He chuckled, and said, "I will try and help you earn your father's attention, but you must first tell me exactly who you are, and what is your dilemma."

Faramir sighed. "My name is Faramir, son of Denethor, steward of Gondor. My brother, Boromir, is the apple of my father's eye. My father is devout to my brother, and he cares only for my brother. My father... he hates me." Faramir had tears rolling down his cheek. He sobbed quietly into his sleeve.

Treebeard used his arm to make the man stand up. "What we have here is a case of miscommunication. He doesn't hate you. However, he conveys his feelings to you somewhat of hate. Does that make any sense at all?" Faramir nodded, then shook his head.

"I somewhat get it, but I mostly don't."

Treebeard sighed. "Very well then. I guess that you don't want to hear a long explanation, so I will make this as simple as possible. Your father loves Boromir more than you, yes, but he doesn't despise you. He merely doesn't show his care openly for you. He shows his care for your brother more. That doesn't mean he hates you. It is his choice on how he chooses to convey his feelings. You must respect that choice, and try to understand it."

Faramir looked up at Treebeard. "How can I respect a choice that is made against me?"

Treebeard sighed, and said, "He did not make that choice against you. It is just a choice he made. It is a regular choice, just like choosing a weapon. Some may choose bows, some may choose swords, and some may choose axes. You may choose a sword, whilst your father chooses an ax. That is just his choice. You cannot change the weapon he chooses to deal his blows with."

Faramir looked at Treebeard again, and said, "How can I make him choose a sword?"

Treebeard sighed again, and said, "There is no way to make him undo his choice, except one. You will always be held in lesser esteem than Boromir, until the ax is no longer a choice."

Faramir looked at Treebeard in awe. "You're saying that if there is no ax, then there will be no choice for an ax!" Treebeard slightly nodded, and said, "Do you know what I propose?"

Faramir looked at Treebeard in horror. "I will not kill my brother!"

Treebeard clasped his hands onto his head. "No, you fool, I am not suggesting you kill your brother! I am saying that you must somehow shift your father's attention from the ax, instead of destroying it!"

Faramir looked at Treebeard quizzically. "How can I remove Boromir from the picture?"

Treebeard shouted, "You are not removing your brother! You are simply shifting your father's choice! You must be more like an ax for your father to choose it! If your father has two axes, he must care for both equally!"

Faramir looked as though the dawn had just risen. He said, "You are suggesting that I be more like Boromir!"

Treebeard slammed his hand on a nearby tree. "YES! You finally get it! You mortals take so long to teach... that's why I don't do my lectures very often." He rubbed the tree's trunk. "I'm sorry, Oak, it's just that I had to teach a lesson." The tree hummed, and Treebeard looked happy again.

Faramir whispered to himself, "I have to be more like Boromir... so be it!" He shouted to Treebeard, "Thank you!" The Ent nodded, and said, "Anytime, Faramir son of Denethor, anytime."