Chapter Two

Anger, hatred, contempt and loathing all coursed through the veins of the elder brother, his eyes narrowed to mere slits as he just watched his father walk away. How could someone be hurt and beaten for no reason at all? By someone who was meant to care for them so much none the less. These were the thoughts that ran through Boromir's mind night after night as he stared into the darkness, hearing his brothers estranged whimpers from the next room.

It was that same sound that snapped him from his thoughts, glancing downwards to see the small pile of flesh and bones that was clinging to his legs, trembling and sobbing simultaneously.

"Oh Faramir.." He sighed more than anything else as he dropped down to his little brothers level, wrapping strengthened arms around the tiny frame, who was now burying his face in his big brothers chest.

"What...What did I do?" He managed to choke out pathetically, although he soon became aware that the teens attention was not entirely on him. In fact, Boromir was glaring daggers at almost every individual in the courtyard.

"Is there someone interesting to see here?" He snapped sharply, with enough force to break the crowd, not many would dare cross the favourite son of Denethor, let alone when he was angry. Slowly lowering his eyes to look down at his brothers calming body. The watery blue orbs were shut, though salt tears still streamed softly from them, just listening to his brothers voice growling in his chest, though that comfort was soon pulled from him as he was placed back up the stone, confronted with the worried expression on Boromir's face.

"Does it hurt?" Eyes didn't meet as the elder pulled a rag from his pocket and started to wipe away the mixture of blood and tears from his dear brothers face. The strawberry head just bobbed in a nod, slowly raising his hands to cup his brothers face, looking directly into the green tinted orbs with a look of confusion and fear that was becoming more and more frequent. Looking for answers. For the promise that it wouldn't happen again. That it would be alright...That she was coming back. Boromir just sighed.

"I don't know my brother..." Carefully pushing away a strand of hair and hooking it behind Faramir's ear. "He's...still grieving.." Trying to find some logical explanation "You...Just look so much like her..." Somehow his tone filled with remorse at the simple statement. It was true. Faramir looked too much like their mother for Denethor to cope with, or that was what everyone else seemed to put the stewards behaviour down to. The high chiselled cheek bones, brushed by fine red hair with each movement, the small kinks that bobbed with each gracefully step and movement that gave many the impression that there must have been some elven blood in the child. Though alas it were not so, the future Prince of Ithilian could still be hurt. Could still be broken.

Slowly the two brothers rose, Faramir's cheek starting to bruise from the strong hand of his father, Boromir, his arm still wrapped around the younger's shoulder as they made their way into the cold halls of the King's Palace.

They walked in near silence, only broken by the childish whimpers that still escaped the younger boy. Boromir accompanied his brother to his chambers, entering the room first, with an arched brow he walked to the bed.

"What's this?" Holding up a small letter that had been left upon the pillow, starting to hold it up to the light to try and read it.

"DON'T!" Faramir leapt forward and grabbed the parchment, holding it close to his chest, blushing furiously. Boromir was certainly amused by his brothers sudden change in attitude to say the least., though it only added to the sense of relief that was slowly started to wash over him.

"Oh?" Arching a brow and smirking as he crossed his arms over his chest "And whys that..." Reaching over and pulling the letter out from above Faramir, who just squealed in protest and desperately tried to retrieve the letter. The tears had stopped, leaving only burning red eyes that just stared at his brothers hands.

"Please...Boromir ....Don't...." Acting as if nothing else was wrong in the world, as was the young boys ways, he had more strength than Denethor could ever know...Ever fathom. "Its...." Dropping his hands and just looking down at the floor, his voice falling to a shy whisper "Its from someone...Its private..."

"Private hmm?" The elder sat back upon his brothers bed and held out the paper for his brother to take. "Who's it from?" One thing about the two was that there were no secrets between them.. What ever happened the two of them knew about it. "Is it your female fancy huh?" Teasing as much as possible, though his chuckles choked in his throat as he watched Faramir nod. "You have a suitor?"

"No...Not so much a suitor..."

"Well? Who is she? She must think highly of you to send you love letters..."

"Its...Not a love letter...She's...." Faramir stuttered, trying to find words that failed him. "The new kitchen maid...Her name is Helena..."

"Helena..." Boromir mused aloud, resting his head in his hands "The young girl..." Sounding as if as if he was trying to sort these things out in his own mind. "Yes...She's rather attractive"

Helena had arrived at the palace about a fortnight previous. Long chocolate brown hair that reached down to her waist when left to its own accord, though usually kept up under a scarf as was the regulations of the palace. And deep mysterious eyes, that now only kept their focus on the youngest son. They were both the same age, Faramir but a month or so older than the girl, though it made no difference to them.

At present, the new "Romeo" of the palace was smiling rather warmly as his eyes flickered over the page, remembering the first day they had met as he had been doing more and more so. Implanting the brief moment deep in his memory. He had been in the pantry, talking to one of the older women who was cleaning up yet another graze on the boys knee. She had entered coyly, in total silence, and just waited to be noticed and acknowledge when the time was suitable for everyone else and immediately Faramir's eyes had set alight, as hers did also.

"Is..." He spoke quietly, not looking up to his brother "Is it foolish to say I am in love?" Boromir's chin unhinged slightly, blinking rather quickly as he shifted on the bed .

"You don't even know what love is Faramir..." He spoke softly with a tone much like a loving father to a son, a tone that Faramir rarely heard in his everyday life...Or rather...Existence. Hazel eyes just watched as the boy crossed the room, carefully putting the letter in a drawer, that seemed already half filled with the lovingly folded parchment. "You shouldn't leave them in such an obvious place"

"I know" Came the quick reply "But father never steps foot in my chambers, let alone time or the energy to go through my belongings"
"But if he did..." The elder began, but was once more cut off

"But if he did he would be angered. His son in love with a servant. She would be sent away, and I would.....Would.." He trailed off, his back to his brother, unable to see the look of pure pride upon Boromir's face.

"You would risk all that for her, my brother?"

"That twice over" He spoke gravely, slowly edging towards his wardrobe, pulling it open with a gentle click of the catch, disappearing into the shadow of the structure as he started to search through it. "I..." Pausing to push a couple of heavy cloaks aside. "I purchased this down in the city..." Pulling out a small bundle of white material "It gets very cold down in the servants quarters, and I'm afraid her being caught if she keeps coming up here in the dead of night" Now it was Faramir's turn to be cut off.

"She sleeps in here?" Boromir quickly choked out the words as he quickly got to his feet and swiftly spun the boy around.

"Yes...The beds big enough" The younger nodded with just as much speed

"You share a bed?" Raising his voice in slight disbelief

"Is..." Flinching at his brothers tone and automatically taking a step back, almost falling into the wardrobe "Is that a bad thing? I just don't like her being cold...And its warmer up here..." Starting on an explanation of pure innocence and naivety.

"Yes ...I mean...." Suddenly Boromir stopped, raising a hand to scratch his hair as he just watched his brother, slowly pieces coming together. The concept of human reproduction hadn't been explained had it? But why? Boromir himself had been told at a young age, much younger than the age of his brother now, by his father when they...Ahh there was the answer. Denethor didn't want an heir by the younger, weaker son. A further reminder of the pain he lived from day to day. But yet to let the boy live in naivety of the ways of the world, was not right. And thought to be even below his fathers standards. Apparently not. This thought only infuriated Boromir further.

"Faramir...Boys and girls.." Blushing a deep crimson, much to amusement of his brother who just started to laugh. "They cant share a bed...And..." He trailed off, lost for words, glad of Faramirs interruption.

"I kissed her" The three whispered words shocked the elder further.

"You kissed her?" Receiving just a nod in return, before the younger brother held out the bundle in his arms, as if Faramir was trying to push the thoughts of the kiss out of his mind. "It's a nightdress...Do you think she'll like it?". Boromir just smiled and unwrapped the heavy material, callused fingers trailing over the delicate stitching of the dress.

"The embroidery is gold thread..."
"That I see..." The elder spoke softly, his voice filled with pride for his little brother. The proper gentlemen. The true romantic of the Citadel. "It must have been expensive"

"I worked with the women who made it. She was very kind, I sat in the corner and wtchedd as the thread was pulled in and out of the material and..." Blinking himself out of his speech "You think she'll like it?" Faramir looked up to his elder brother, searching for approval

"No...I don't..." Watching as his little brothers face dropped before ruffling the fire strands of the boy's hair "I think she will love it" Once again the younger boys facial expressions changed once more to a wide grin
"Do you really think so Boromir?" Though the only reply he got was being grabbed around the waist and thrown onto the bed with a roll of the hazel eyes.

"Come on...Its almost time for supper" Who ever thought that such a simple statement could cause such a mood change? The younger brother just nodded and quickly got up, pulling the ripped and muddied tunic over his head and throwing it to the ground. His brother just grimaced as he looked over his brother's skinny, marred torso, littered with bruises and strike marks from the years of abuse under Lord Denethors hand. Within a moment the boy was dressed in a fine tunic of black velvet, standing in front of the taller boy as he helped him tie a length of black material around his head to keep his hair from his face.

"Do you think father will still be annoyed?"

"Just don't think about it Faramir..." Dropping to his knees and pulling his brother into a loving embrace "Don't think about it. Concentrate on getting through dinner...And giving Helena that dress later tonight"
"Yes sir..." Faramir whispered into his brother's shoulder, his nose resting in the crock of his neck "Thank you Boromir." And but a moment later the two brothers were walking down the long corridor towards the hall.

It wasn't a particularly long walk, though even in their usual complete silence, it seemed much longer. For Faramir the sense of dread seemed to increase with each small step. The fear of knowing that every action, every word would get him punished in some way or another. Though the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil that ebbed through ever fibre, every vein, every neuron, every sense of his being. The longing, no, not longing, the needing to be accepted by his father. All he wanted was to see the glint of pride in Denethors eyes that the younger saw each time the grey orbs were set upon Boromir, that always seemed to instantly fade as they moved towards him. He tried, tried as much as his small frame allowed him, to please the man. To obey every order, comply to the ever growing list of rules...Though it was impossible.

Boromirs thoughts on the other hand, were of a more positive nature. His younger brother, was too selfless for his own good, that was becoming clear. But yet, the boy had strength. A strength that surpassed his own in many, many ways. A fighting force that never seemed to die in the boy, the ability and need to carry on when all forces were against him, to keep him from the bottomless black abyss of darkness that seemed so tempting to himself, let alone Faramir. Not a physical strength, but Faramir was unstoppable and no one, not event their father would pull him to a grinding halt. He could only see the surface battle that his little brother was fighting, though the battle within the boy was tougher than any that he himself would have to face.

After what seemed like a small eternity, two sets of booted feet set foot upon the marble stone floor of the dining hall, faced with the long table, that only added to the bitter bite of emptiness that seemed to fill the entire palace. Then at the very end of the table sat the Steward of Gondor himself. Fingertips pressed together, the fur lined sleeves of the cloak had slid down past his elbows, revealing part of the slate grey under tunic that lay beneath. Grey. ALWAYS GREY. Much like Denethors personality. Unreadable, natural, a dark grey fog that enveloped what ever pray the steward was up against...Raising but a single finger, the kitchen staff appeared with silver platters of fineries, this only made the two sons squirm slightly. They were late, almost immediately scuffling forward to take their seats in silence. Slowly the mans head turned, the dark eyes fixing firmly upon his youngest son.

"Your late" He sneered, one side of his mouthed hitched up, small speaks of saliva protruding from his mouth to land on the hair of his son, the flaming red strands that fell over Faramir's bowed head.

"My apologies father" His voice barely audible over the clatter of the plates being placed upon the wooden table. The boy remained near motionless for a time until he felt a small piece of parchment being dropped into his lap, and a skirt brushing against the skin of his hand. Such little contact was enough to put a smile upon Faramir's face, no matter what situation he was in.

"What's so funny boy?" Where the words that snapped him back to the cruel reality in which he lived day after torturous day. It was but a split world...Of that he was becoming certain, with Helena and Boromir on one side, as his heaven and saviours, then his father upon the other end of the scale.

"Nothing sir....Sorry" Came the trademark apology as the boy slowly curled his fingers around his cutlery, looking to his brother for a sign of comfort, though all the dazzling blue eyes found was the crown of Boromir's bowed head. The younger brother followed suit, mimicking his brothers stance as he took up the silver fork.

"Who....Said you could eat..." Denethor slowly sat back, placing his own eating utensils upon his already emptied plate, aware that both sons were now looking upon him. Faramir just stared for a moment before pulling his hands back to his lap, while Boromir just watched.

"May...May I eat father?" His clear voice ringing like a bell in the cold hall.

"Do you think your behaviour today allows for food?" Pressing his fingers together once more, grey eyes sparkling though not in a way the young boy liked nor appreciated. Enjoying and taking pleasure at seeing his son squirming before him. Enjoying his pain.

"I...."
"You what?" A smirk appearing upon the wrinkling face "Do you think you deserve all the food that is set before you? Do you think you deserve to eat beside myself and Boromir?" The other son just looked to his brother with complete pity, as Faramir stumbled and stuttered over his words before giving up entirely. The hall sat in silence. No movement, until the youngest son slowly shook his head and stood up, the paper dropping from his lap onto the floor as he walked around his chair and pushed it back to the table, looking towards the food longingly.

"Father surely you don't intend to starve him?" Boromir carefully questioned, looking between one and the other.

"What I intend to do to him, my son..." Slowly looking towards Boromir with a gentle smile "Should not worry you...Now ..." Clicking his fingers as the sweets were brought in, though Boromir's eyes were once more upon his little brother who was slowly walking towards the door, his head limp, eyes fixed upon the floor. From experience the elder had learned it was best to keep quiet, for both their sakes...He would get his brother a meal later this eve.

"Why do you hate me so much sir?" Both Boromir and Denethor's head snapped around to the owner of the voice. Faramir was standing half way between them and the door, small hands clenched into fists, his back to the two. "Just...Just out of interest..." His voice quiet still as he turned and looked up at his father, with the look of pure confusion and honesty. "What have I done to shun myself from your favour father?" Boromir felt his breath hitch in throat, suddenly feeling the urge to vomit climb up his neck, silently begging Faramir to just run....Slowly, Denethor rose to his feet, shaking his head ever so slowly

"I don't hate you Faramir..." For just one second, the boy had hope before it was once more snatched from him with a snarl "I loath you" Within no time at all, the youngster felt salt tears pricking at the skin of his chin as silent tears fell. Boromir rose to his feet and started over to his brother
"Come on Faramir..." But he was stopped by a sharp hand upon his shoulder. Emerald eyes slowly looked up to its owner, soon feeling himself physically pushed back down into his seat.

"Your brother wishes to speak...." Slowly sitting down, looking unnervingly calm as he folded his arms across his chest "And we will let him...Continue Faramir"

The boy shifted uncomfortably on his feet for a moment, his voice trembling with fear, his father had unnerved him totally. Raising a hand to wipe away his tears, he cleared his throat. In his opinion, if he were to be punished anyway, for both speaking out of turn and the earlier events, shouldn't he just have his say? Perhaps it would help push out the stopper that trapped him. The prison. The bottle. The prison.

"You..." Clearing his throat and dropping his hands, fingers tangling idly in the velvet of his tunic "You hate me...For a reason beyond my c-c-control...And I try to please you, and try to make you proud..." His voice starting to tremble beyond control as his body threatened to rack with the sobs that were stuck in his chest. "I...r-r-really do try..." Boromir rose once more, ignoring his fathers grunt of disgust as he moved quickly to his little brother and wrapped his arms around the trembling form, his own back to his father so Faramir could continue his speech if he needed to.

Faramir remained silent for a moment or so, just resting his face against his brothers broad shoulder, panting gently, calming down enough to allow his brother to pull from him.

"Are you alright?" It was a feeble whisper from the elder, falling back onto his rear as he felt small hands push sharply against his shoulders as his brother found his strength once more.

"Is nothing ever good enough for you father?" In a few quick strides the boy was standing opposite a smirking Denethor, small hands slamming down upon the table top as something inside the young man snapped.

"How is it that Boromir can do no wrong? That everything is MY fault. NO MATTER WHAT GOES WRONG ITS ME ISNT IT? I WILL NEVER BE GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU WILL I?" Panting as his voice dropped to a deadly whisper "Never good enough to be your son" The words echoed around them. Boromir was truly in shook, shrinking back against the nearest wall as Denethor got to his feet, towering over the fuming child. Faramir's face was a deep crimson. Years of anger bubbling inside of him as he glared up at the pale man. Nothing happened for what seemed like a lifetime, that was until Denethor's hand slowly rose. Boromir winced and waited for the blow that was sure to follow, waiting for the sound of his brothers whimper as the callused hand made contact with the precious skin of Faramir's cheek. The younger just glared up at the man, his eyes alight with passion and anger, he too was waiting for the hand to strike, feeling his heart beating like a humming birds wings within his chest. But, the blow did not fall, instead the head of the city signalled to two guards, bringing them forward and speaking with a voice filled of hatred and spite.

"Take this...boy...Into the dungeons, treat him as you would any traitor"
"No!" Came the cry from Boromir as he lunged forward but soon stopped himself as he watched the guards try to restrain the nearly hysterical boy

"JUST BECAUSE I LOOK LIKE HER" Denethor just turned his back as his son was lifted from the floor, one guard holding his squirming body while the other controlled his kicking legs.

"YOU WISH I WAS DOWN THERE WITH HER. YOU WISH IT WAS JUST YOU AND BOROMIR. THAT I WAS DEAD TOO..." His shouts turning into desperate sobs "You wish I...Was buried with her..." These words were enough to cause the father to spin on his heals, grabbing a fist full of Faramir's hair.
"There you are wrong boy! Instead of her. You should be there instead of her!" Striking the pre-teen sharply across the face before moving swiftly to the door "Instead of her" The words left in the mans wake, leaving a silence in the hall before Faramir's sobs started bouncing from the walls once more.

Boromir just watched in dismay as his brother was dragged from the hall, begging and pleading for big brother to save him, though Boromir knew he was helpless to do anything.

Soon there was nothing left, apart from the dying cries as Faramir was carried out of earshot. The terrified screams still echoing in Boromir's ears as he glanced around the empty hall, picking up the forgotten letter from under his brothers chair. Tears starting to fall from his own eyes before he dropped to his knees, curling up in the corner on the hall, as the eldest son of Denethor started to weep.