After some while Faramir decided that it might be best to set Boromir's book aside for a while and return to the Hall. Aragorn assured him that it was no matter if Faramir preferred to be alone, but Faramir only smiled and said that if Éomer yet had to face the crowd, it was the least he could do to show his solidarity. Besides, he wanted to pace himself when it came to this feast of his brother's soul outpoured.
Before returning to the Golden Hall, Faramir went to his apartment to put Boromir's book away. There he found Berethil with his son who was just waking from a nap. Faramir realized that he had not seen his little boy since that morning and now afternoon was already pressing along.
Faramir took his son into his arms and smiled as a sleepy little fist tangled itself in his hair. Together, father and son returned to their friends at the feast. Faramir hoped that at some time he would be able to talk with Belthil about some of what he had read so far. He thought, too, of the possibility that one day a curious young lad might find that very book sitting amongst so many of his father's books and read of his uncle's own words. Faramir could scarcely wait until Elboron could talk and learn to read.
---
"Edro," Erestor called, before suddenly remembering that he was not in his office at Imladris, but in Faramir's office at Minas Tirith's Citadel. "Enter," he corrected quickly.
A guard opened the door to allow a young lad to step in. "Master Faramir to see you, my Lord Erestor," the man in black and silver livery said.
Erestor still had trouble repressing laughter at the ridiculous formalities these Gondorians employed at every opportunity, but if anyone understood what it was to uphold the traditions of one's people, it was this Elf. Thus he nodded very seriously and dismissed the guard.
"How do you fare this morn, young Faramir?" Erestor asked, surprised to see the young messenger again. It seemed an age since he, with other friends of Aragorn and officers of Gondor, had heard this boy's testimony about the happenings in Pelargir.
"I fare quite well, thank you, my lord," the young Faramir said with a deep bow. "And yourself, my lord?"
Erestor repressed a sigh. "You may call me Erestor, please. And i fare rather well, considering, thank you." Erestor had growing rather eager to get back home and hoped that Glorfindel would return soon to Minas Tirith, that they may return to Imladris all the sooner. It had been two weeks since the funeral procession departed.
Now Erestor was beginning to wonder just what the young lad was after. He was so like Estel had been, and Erestor had a habit of rarely asking Estel questions, preferring to get him to learn how to state his requests, rather than having them slowly dragged out of him. Sure, at first it seemed intimidating, but Erestor knew it was an invaluable lesson in life, once one got to understand that one did not have to be shy, couching requests as simple conversation as children and some adults so often do.
"He who hesitates is lost," Erestor had frequently said, and he knew the full meaning of that phrase. He remembered all too clearly the day Gondolin was attacked by Morgoth's forces. There had been a great celebration in the city (Morgoth was notorious for crashing parties, especially one's attended by Noldor), and it also happened that day that Erestor had finally managed to work up the nerve to talk to Glorfindel for the first time. They never even got past introductions before the alarm was raised and the next thing Erestor knew, he was up on a mountain ledge with a hundred other Elves and Glorfindel was holding at bay a Balrog, until both Balrog and Elda missed footing and fell to their deaths.
"My lor- um...," the young Faramir started shyly, "Erestor... i was wondering if - that is, i mean - perhaps you are in need of... a - an - assistant?"
Erestor gifted the young boy a rare genuine smile, before asking what manner of assistance he might be able to provide. The boy told him immediately that he was not begging for work, but merely wanted to be helpful, if he was needed, and that he would be happy to run errands for the Steward's temporary secretary.
"I thought Estel - rather, King Elessar, i suppose he is now - gave you leave from your duties?" Erestor asked.
"Aye, he did, sir. It's just that i have been... well, i feel that i can be helpful still. I want to help, if i can, especially if i could help Steward Faramir in some way," the boy said humbly.
Erestor grinned, seeing real potential in this Mortal child. The Elf-lord nodded toward a stack of folded and sealed parchments. "I suppose i would not mind having someone to ferry those about the city, particularly someone who knows where everyone here can be found."
Young Faramir's eyes took on a worried look and his brow furrowed, carefully lifting the tall stack. "All of these, sir?" he said meekly.
"Aye," Erestor nodded. "Take your time, none of them are too urgent, as long as they are distributed before this evening. And of course you need not carry them thusly, there should be a satchel here somewhere," he said looking through the drawers of the expansive desk.
Faramir nodded, determined to carry out this task. "To whom are they to be delivered, Erestor, sir?"
"There is one for the master lampwright, several for the smithy... well, they are all addressed, you see there," Erestor said, starting to turn his attention elsewhere.
The boy was silent for a moment or two, just staring at the topmost missive, wondering if he could guess correctly. He shook his head though, he could not allow himself to perform his task through guesswork. "Master Erestor, if i am to deliver these properly, i shall need to know to whom they are to go. I shall do my best to commit them to memory" he said rather timidly, hating to interrupt the dark-haired Elf.
"They are addressed, my child, do you see?" Erestor said patiently. "Or perhaps my handwriting is a bit foreign to you? I must admit i have attempted to conform my writing to the modes i have encountered most frequently here in Gondor, though it has not been simple for me to relearn after so many centuries of keeping my pen employed in Tengwar."
Faramir sighed. "It should do me just as much good were these addressed in the language of the Elves, sir."
For a moment Erestor did not comprehend what this lad was trying to tell him, certainly he was not new to delivering messages. Then it dawned on him, as a messenger for Gondor's army the boy most likely never delivered more than a handful of messages at once; enough that he could simply remember them. "You do not read, do you, child?" Erestor said.
Young Faramir shook his head, feeling slightly ashamed, even though it would have been extraordinary if he could read, even for a child who lived in Minas Tirith. Often he had heard that his hero and namesake loved to read, and he had longed dreamed of learning for himself one day.
"Put those missives aside," Erestor said kindly, taking them and shoving them into the bag he'd found. "There is more important work to be seen to today," Erestor said, writing something on a spare sheet of parchment and beckoning young Faramir to see. "Which mode do you prefer to learn first? Common runes, Feanorean Tengwar, or Cirth?"
---
Edro is literally "open!" as in "Annon edhellen, edro hi ammen."
Voldie: Best of the best? Nah... surely not. But i humbly thank you! I didn't expect Boromir to be the sort to keep a journal either, but... well, there you are. I take it by your reaction that you like it? A little of the inner Boromir, something extraordinarily rare.
Elenhin: I can't really picture Faramir wanting anyone to suffer, except maybe Calimehtar, but that is for exploration another day. But he would certainly know how mental/emotional damage might be executed. I think we could indeed work together on the Gondor's Mouse Captain - i shall see if i have enough time in my schedule for a collaboration.
linda: Boromir's book seems to be exceedingly helpful for Faramir. He so needed a connection to his brother, and it will mostly likely serve to help bring him and Belthil closer together as well. There will be more of that to come later, too. Maybe, just maybe, Faramir's trials and tribulations are going to let him rest for a while. Maybe....