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Chapter Six: Tears on the Petals of a Blood Red Rose

Faramir allowed the tears of pain and rejection to roll down his cheeks as he ran toward his room. He knew that he had more than likely angered Denethor even more, but the harsh reality of what had just occurred spurred him into flight. He ducked into his room and sank against the wooden door as is closed. He tried to calm himself, to master his tears and ragged breaths, and still his shaking shoulders, but the words his father had spoken continuously ran through his mind.

How did you come to be so foolish?!

Why can't you be like your brother?

At this, the tears started anew. Faramir had tried to be like his brother, he really had. But he could not bring himself to love the things that Boromir did, at least not with the same magnitude of love. He tried to be good at fighting and other such things, but the cold hard truth was that he would never be as good as his elder brother. But still, he tried to win his father's approval.

'Why couldn't I have been like my brother? I wish I were like him, too...'

Faramir hastily untied his boots and yanked them off his feet. He went to the window and knelt beside the sill, folding his arms on top of the wood and resting his chin on his arms.

Outside, the world was calm and peaceful. The people of the city were finishing the last of their daily chores or were already inside enjoying a hot meal or tea with their families. The soft sounds of early night floated on a warm and gentle autumn breeze. Stars shone brightly overhead, tiny diamonds illuminating the black velvet sky.

Suddenly, an idea formed inside Faramir's anguished mind.

Run.

Faramir's head shot up.

Run away. You're not wanted here. Your father hates you. Your family is ashamed of you. Do them one good deed. Run.

Faramir nodded to himself. He pulled his boots back on his feet, retying the laces with trembling fingers. After two tries, he deemed them satisfactorily secure. Then he waited. And waited. And waited, until at long last every candle was extinguished as far as he could see. Quietly, he crept out of his room and snuck toward the door.

Guards. How could he have forgotten? Faramir pressed himself to the wall, concealing himself in the shadows. He needed a plan. It would be impossible to slip past the guards and out the heavy doors. But time was of the essence, and the eight-year-old's mind was working at a league-a-minute in his panicked but determined state.

Quickly conjuring a few fresh tears, Faramir tiptoed timidly toward the door. Sure enough, one of the guards heard the soft footsteps and turned to find the Steward's young son.

"Why, young Master Faramir, what has you out of bed wandering these halls at such a late hour?"

Faramir looked up, teary-eyed and apprehensive. "Um, I left something outside...and you see, it's awfully important, and..." Faramir whispered pleadingly.

The guard, thinking of his own young child, smiled thoughtfully. "Oh, I see. And now you must retrieve said something, or terrible things will happen?"

Faramir studied the ground and nodded.

"Ah, well, I suppose that if the young lord commands it, I must open the door."

Faramir looked up, slightly surprised that his hastily formulated plan had succeeded so easily. "Oh! Would you?"

As an answer, the door was opened. Barely containing his surprise and delight, Faramir all but ran through the archway.

As soon as he was outside, Faramir did begin to run. He did not pause, only continued to run, until he came upon the armory. Faramir was young, but he was not stupid. No one in their right mind would run away without a weapon. Come to think of it, no one out of their mind would overlook a weapon either. So the clever child snuck around to a back window which had been broken several years prior, which no one had gotten around to fixing. Consequently, it was the ideal entrance for a juvenile midnight adventurer. Landing inside the armory, Faramir instinctively made his way toward the wall where he knew the practice swords were kept. Carefully removing one from its resting place, Faramir strapped the blade to his waist and crawled back through the window. Swiftly, he made his way through the levels of the tiered city, arriving at the gate just before dawn.

Another dilemma. Surely these guards would not fall for the "I left something out there" excuse, as it was highly unlikely that a young child would be playing outside the city. As it were, Faramir settled in a dark corner within viewing distance of the Gate, and there he waited.

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A/n: Again apologies...This time I swear that the next chapter will be available soon, on pain of death! In all seriousness, it is partially written, and hopefully it will be published on Tuesday or Wednesday.

Cygna-hime: No! Not iron manacles! Besides, do I look like Maedhros to YOU?? Just joking. At first I thought book Denethor wouldn't hit Faramir, but I reread Return of the King, and I had forgotten how completely horrible old Denethor is. Now granted, I agree, it wouldn't be the Done thing...but where's the fun in that, eh? ;-)

Mythwen: Nope not quite over...in fact, is the end in sight? Well, just barely, if you have elven eyesight...

Shinigami061: Yup, Denethor is an @$$. I think that pretty much sums it all up.

Tears of Telperion: Favorites? *sniffle* you're too kind. :) Yeah, I just wanted to hug Faramir watching RotK...poor kid

Viresse430: Eh, I was rather miffed at PJ for making Faramir such a jerk in TTT, that was my major qualm with movie Faramir. He got better in RotK though. :)

For the rest of you, please r/r! Then you can have your own nice little note thingie right there!!