Chapter Summary: Silmarien learns of her father's decision to send her to Dol Amroth for the summer.

Author's Notes: As I said, some elements will be different. I hope very much that you shall enjoy the phoenix of Summer in Dol Amroth! If you have a beef with anything, email me at eruanne lissamail dot com.

Faramir lay back on the settee sideways, one foot resting on the cushions, the other propped on the hearth; the Steward's youngest son read a book while his older brother stared into the fire.

"You look intolerably lazy, Faramir," Boromir said, stirring out of his reverie with a smile.

Rubbing his eyes, Faramir chuckled. "You don't appear to be very energetic either, Boromir. Let's not have the pot call the kettle black. We're both tired, and I won't be moving for anyone."

Almost on cue, Denethor came in and Faramir righted himself immediately. Boromir chuckled, glancing sideways at his brother. The twenty year old middle child was almost constantly forced to perform for his father's affections, and Boromir pitied him for it. Yet his denial of "keeping an image" garnered even more sympathy.

Denethor sat heavily into a cushioned armchair and sighed after greeting his sons. Rubbing his eyes, he suddenly announced the presence of their kinsman and his family: Prince Imrahil, and his children Barahir and Lothiriel.

"Is that cause for annoyance, Father?" Boromir asked, amused at his father's manner.

"It is cause enough when Barahir and Silmarien are even in the same city. Imrahil has asked me to send her to Dol Amroth this summer. I have made the decision to comply with his request," the Steward sighed. Looking at Boromir he suddenly asked, "Do you think I have neglected your sister?"

Boromir thought awhile on it, and gave a guarded answer. "You both have proud spirits, Father. Even if you had commanded her to learn womanly graces, I think it would have been in her heart to chase after Faramir and I with a sword made of willow branch. It is part of her nature."

"But do you think your mother would have made her nature different? Perhaps a little quieter?" Denethor asked.

His question was not answered, for in the stone halls outside the Steward's family sitting room echoed the sound of sandaled feet hurrying across the stone. A mere few seconds later, the door opened and in came the dark haired girl. Seeing her brother on the settee, she squealed with delight.

"Faramir, you're back!" Silmarien cried, embracing heartily her laughing sibling. The ranger Captain had been in Ithilien for the past week and had just returned in time to bathe and dress for the evening meal. Silmarien made a great fuss over his return and kissed him on the cheek loudly before turning to Boromir. Her oldest brother got nearly the same attention and an equally loud kiss before she sat between them on the settee.

"Oh, I played the most brilliant trick today!" she said playing with her hair, which was still damp from her recent bath.

"I heard the clatter it made, Raven. Who was it this time?" Boromir smiled.

"It simply had to be Barahir. Do you know he tried to kiss me today?" Silmarien shuddered at the memory.

"Not on the lips?" Faramir chimed in, half-teasing his sister. He was completely ready for the full tale.

"Oh, does it matter? If he gets near enough for me to smell his breath, it's too close," she replied. "But I must tell you what I did. Uncle had gone into the council room with Father and Barahir decided to see how far he could get, I suppose. I was racing up and down the hall with Val and Beleg. Barahir tripped Val on purpose I think, just to pick a fight to make them leave. Beleg saw it, and he and Val pretended to be hardened soldiers, and condescend to him." Here, Silmarien was lost to a fit of giggling. "While they were making him back away, I circled around behind Barahir and said, 'Now now, Barahir. Don't you know you shouldn't interrupt a race?'

Barahir turned around and acted as if I were some high queen or something and put his arms around my waist. Then he said, 'Save me lady, from these churlish knaves!' and tried to kiss me. I wasn't about to let that happen, and so I pushed him into Beleg. Val was knocked off his feet, and the boys started wrestling. They were so zealous about it, they knocked a statue over onto Barahir. Oh, it was so funny, Boromir! You should have seen his face when it happened!"

Her brothers chuckled good-natured. They shared their sister's love for pranks. It always seemed Barahir was the prime target.

"Silmarien, do you dislike Barahir, that you trouble him so?" Boromir asked suddenly after he had thought on it a little.

"Nay, brother. He is merely the easiest to upset. I do get a delight over the scowls he makes," she smiled innocently. It seemed her childishness drove many of her decisions.

Faramir paused in thought. "Does he know this? How long until his patience snaps, sister? Would you have bitterness between you and your cousin just because you delight in tormenting him?"

Silmarien pursed her lips. "No, I don't suppose he knows I merely jest with him," she mused, having been given something truly serious to think about. "You don't suppose he'll hate me for what I've done? I didn't really intend to be so mean."

Denethor secretly approved of her thoughtfulness of her recent actions, but the consequences of her pranks and of his indulgence of them would have to be enforced. Denethor saw now that she truly needed discipline; that he had been extremely lax was plain.

"Silmarien, your uncle has been disappointed in your behavior. He thinks you have grown up not knowing the ways of women, and I happen to agree with him," he said, letting the tone of his voice make plain his thoughts.

Silmarien's head lowered, and she became increasingly ashamed. Her heart was good, but she had not grown up yet. "I am truly sorry for what I have done, Father. Please forgive me," she whispered. She swallowed hard. Her father had never reacted this way to her pranks before. Always, he had asked her to tell him what had happened, and she always told him the truth. His punishments were always easy to pay, and Silmarien thought no more of it. What would happen now? If the strict and refined Uncle Imrahil was as displeased as her heart feared, the price of punishment would be steep.

"It is my decision to send you to Dol Amroth at the end of May," Denethor continued. "You will stay the summer there, and you will set your mind to learning to behave in a manner worthy of your position."

Silmarien looked up. All the color drained from her fair face. "So far from home, Father? Why not here?"

"There are too many distractions, it seems," the Steward replied. "Do not fear, Silmarien. You won't stay there forever. But you must learn that you cannot be as unrestrained as you have been. Wouldn't you like to learn how your mother lived? Do you not wish to visit Lothiriel?"

Silmarien's fear ebbed away. "I would like that, Father," she nodded slowly, calming herself. Looking at her brothers and back at her father she added, "But...are you angry with me?"

Faramir put his arm around her waist and kissed her temple. Boromir took her hand and squeezed it gently. "We are not, sister. But Father is right. It is time for you to become a lady," Faramir whispered.

Denethor opened his arms and Silmarien went to him, becoming enveloped by his long dark robes. He kissed her hair. "It will all turn out for the better, my Mari. You will see." Smiling he drew away from her and stood. "Come now. There is a welcoming feast to attend, in honor of our kin."

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