The Star
Minas Tirith, Summer 2999
Faramir woke in the night with the feeling that there were eyes upon him, intently prying into every part of his soul. He did not know how he would get back to sleep when he labored under such a feeling of scrutiny. Ever since his return to Minas Tirith he had felt the watching and judgment but never quite so strongly. The boy worried that he would become one of those babbling fools who saw enemies and conspiracies everywhere they looked, even when there were not there. Mithrandir told him that, most often, this was because there was something wrong with their blood or they had been born with a part of their mind not working. The good wizard also said that your mind could not be overthrown by the dark powers unless there was some weakness, some fracture that could be exploited.
Faramir had the guilty thought that this could apply to his father. He had not been blind to how Denethor seemed to trust no one or, at least, no one besides Boromir. The boy thought that this was only natural because he had always been of the opinion that his older brother was the most noble and trustworthy of men. However, he remembered that Imrahil told him that knowing how to delegate authority was an important part of leadership. With chagrin, the boy thought that it was not for him to question the Steward and he would put aside such disloyalty.
Realizing that sleep would not find him again, Faramir wrapped a blanket around himself and decided that he would go watch the stars and wait for dawn. He wandered to an east-facing balcony and looked at the stars. He wondered if his mother was somewhere beyond their light. Now that he contemplated taking up adult responsibilities with the Rangers and being further separated from Boromir and, of course, his family in Dol Amroth, he wanted to feel her arms around him more than ever.
Lost in contemplation of the stars, Faramir was insensible of the soft footsteps coming towards him and jumped when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He turned to see a smirking Denethor.
The steward's lip curled and, in a satisfied voice, said, "Surprised you, didn't I boy? You should be in bed..."