Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

In this chapter we have aimed for Russian as well as a few other jokes as well. First we have Sharpe, whom we have established in a previous chapter, is also played by Sean Bean, we thought that it would be fun to let him meet with Carl. To add to the fun we also made a reference to Leo Tolstoy's book Anna Karenina, where Sean Bean played Count Vronsky in the movie based on the same book.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

This time it will be made into two chapters, meaning that you have already gotten part one, and this is the second part.

Warning for the rather rouge language used by Sharpe.

Reminds of Someone I Have Never Met, part two

"I'm a Friar." Carl repeated. "Who are you?"

"My name is Sharpe. Ninety-fifth rifles." He stated.

Carl had no idea of what the ninety-fifth rifles were, and before he could figure it out he heard soft footsteps approaching them. At first he feared for the safety of his dust motes again, but then he recognized the sound of the footsteps.

"Faramir." He greeted eagerly as the other man approached them. Surely Faramir could help him with this menacing looking man.

"Greetings Carl. I see that you have a visitor." Faramir performed a perfect bow towards Sharpe. "I am Faramir, mayhap I can be of service.

Carl tried to convey to Faramir that he needed help with this one by using looks.

"Sharpe, ninety-fifth rifles." Sharpe said. No matter how stupidly this man was dressed, wearing a leather shirt, a cloak and a bow, he had a military air about him. Carl eyed Sharpe over, and so did Faramir, but more like a commander eyed over his troops. Sharpe had a feeling that this man knew what he was doing.

"Sharpe?" Faramir nodded thoughtfully. "Richard Sharpe by any chance?"

"So what is that to you?" Sharpe demanded.

"I beg pardon." Faramir said. "I have read about you, but I must admit that I had not expected to meet you here."

Carl looked at Faramir, utterly confused. "You know who he is?" He asked.

"Yes, a very brave and a very loyal soldier. Though in an army very different than the one I served in." Faramir nodded, respectfully at Sharpe.

"You are a soldier then." Sharpe stated, pleased that there was finally someone who appeared sensible.

"Not an active soldier anymore." Faramir answered. "I had to take up other duties. But I was a soldier yes, and Captain for a company that operated much as your chosen men do. Though we were called Rangers." He could not keep from grinning at Sharpe's expression.

"You're an officer." Sharpe accused.

"Not from the start." Faramir chuckled. "I became Captain by promotion." He informed Sharpe. He would not mention that he had been the son of the Steward just yet, he knew too much about how Sharpe viewed those of noble birth to do that.

"Then can you tell me how the bloody hell I wound up to be here?" Sharpe demanded.

Faramir was certain that he could make at least an educated guess. Sharpe was holding a book in his hand, a book with traces of dust on the leather cover. There was also a lot of dust residue on the sleeve of his jacket, Faramir would not be surprised if it had with the book to do.

"If you picked up that book, and then discovered that you were here, then I think I know how it happened." He said slowly.

"I picked it up to brush away the dust on it." Sharpe confirmed.

"This is going to sound very queer though." Faramir cautioned him. "Carl here and I have noticed some rather strange occurrences when some books have gotten dusty." Faramir explained carefully. "This is not the first time something like this have happened, in fact the first time I came here I wound up here in much the same fashion."

Sharpe gave him a look of disbelief.

"Just take our word for it." Carl suggested.

"What I want to know is why you were brought here." Faramir said thoughtfully. "Carl and I usually comes here because we are both scholars of sorts. But if I am not mistaken you are not overly fond of such pursuits. So what would have brought you here?"

Then another thought skittered through Faramir's mind and managed to get purchase on his reasoning. A while ago he and Aragorn had been discussing how Sharpe reminded them of Boromir in some way.

There really was something of Boromir over him. Both in looks and in general appearance. When he wanted to Boromir could look just as threatening as this man so easily did.

"He is familiar in some odd way." Carl put in.

"The bloody monk is drunk." Sharpe spat. "Goes on about me being like some bastard he has never even met."

"Friar." Carl said.

"Boromir." Faramir stated. "You remind me of Boromir."

"Doesn't make any damn sense to me." Sharpe complained.

"My brother." Faramir explained hurriedly. "He was a soldier as well. Commander of the army until he was killed. You resemble him in appearance."

"Then he would appear familiar to me because of the similarities you shared with your brother." Carl declared.

"I don't care about that. How do I get back?" Sharpe wanted to know.

Carl looked at Faramir since he himself had never done anything like this, according to him Faramir was the expert, the only one who could do it.

"I think I will be able to get you back safely." Faramir assured him. "It is really not that hard once you have done it a few times, and since I have done it before, I should be able to get you safely home. Then Faramir noted something else and gave a low chuckle.

"What?" Sharpe demanded.

"Ah, pardon. It is just that I know how you came to be here." Faramir grinned.

Sharpe gave him a look that demanded an explanation.

"As we have already stated some books tend to do odd things when they have gotten dusty." Faramir explained.

"We have a book here that is never where you put it. You can lock it up in a box and it will still be at some other place when you need it." Carl added in. Speaking of which, he had not seen that book in a while.

"It would seem that the book you had longed for the other books." Faramir noted.

"A bloody book can not long for…" Sharpe was cut short as he had made a gesture to wave Faramir in the face with the book to prove his point, he no longer held the book in his hand. "Bloody hell." The book was nowhere to be seen.

"Harris will kill me if he don't get his bloody book back." He growled.

"I do not think that we could find it at this point." Faramir said ruefully. "But I have another book I can let you have instead. A copy I had intended to give Carl, but I can get a new copy for him later, unless you mind Carl." He added.

"Why, not at all, sounds like a perfect solution to me." Carl agreed eagerly.

"Here then, take this." Faramir held out a book that was much thicker than the other one. Sharpe supposed that that was a good thing, his knowledge about books were rather limited, but Harris liked reading, and since a thicker book should have more text, it should be a good thing. "It is entitled Anna Karenina." Faramir went on. "Hopefully he shall like it."

"Is it a good book?" Sharpe asked as he took it and flipped it open.

"As always it is a matter of opinion." Faramir shrugged. "I do however think that your friend should enjoy it."

Sharpe skimmed through the first page that it opened on.

'Although all Vronsky's inner life was absorbed in his passion,

his external life unalterably and inevitably followed along the

old accustomed lines of his social and regimental ties and

interests. The interests of his regiment took an important place

in Vronsky's life, both because he was fond of the regiment, and

because the regiment was fond of him. They were not only fond of

Vronsky in his regiment, they respected him too, and were proud

of him; proud that this man, with his immense wealth, his

brilliant education and abilities, and the path open before him

to every kind of success, distinction, and ambition, had

disregarded all that, and of all the interests of life had the

interests of his regiment and his comrades nearest to his heart.

Vronsky was aware of his comrades' view of him, and in addition

to his liking for the life, he felt bound to keep up that

reputation.'

"Bloody hell, what kind of name is that?" Sharpe exclaimed.

"It is Russian in origin, rather peculiar language." Faramir admitted. "However if your friend enjoys the French works, he should not find this too troublesome."

Carl had sneaked a peep at the page. "Vronsky." He noted. "Yes definitely Russian that."

"I'll have a new copy for you the next time I come by Carl." Faramir promised. "I do not know how it came to be in Minas Tirith to start with, and I am fairly certain that I do not wish to know it either, but I found it quite interesting. In some odd way I find that the Count Vronsky not only remind me of a few traits of my brother, but of someone else as well." He eyed Sharpe out of the corner of his eye, and Carl noted the wishful look that crossed his face. Carl assumed that the other one Faramir spoke of might very well be Sharpe, then Faramir went on. "Not much, yet there is some few resemblances. For they say there that his men loved him, and that is not the most common trait for an officer. Too many command by fear rather than by loyalty."

"Bloody fools then." Sharpe stated. "Soldiers doesn't bloody care what side the officer they kill are on if it's a bad officer. An officer who flogs and gets his men killed gets himself killed."

"My brother taught me the importance of earning your soldier's loyalty." Faramir nodded. "And when they have given it to you, you must prove yourself worthy of it and that is not easy. I shall help you get back to your men now." He nodded to Carl. "Take care until next we see each other my friend." He smiled. Then he sketched a bow to Sharpe. "If you would follow me?"

Since he did not have all that much choice seeming as Faramir was the only one who could get him back Sharpe followed him.

"Thank you for this." Sharpe gestured to the book he now held.

"No trouble." Faramir smiled as he once again saw a likeness to his brother flash past. He and Aragorn had thought that the two of them shared similarities, and they truly did. Oh, they did.

"I wish you the best." Faramir smiled.

Sharpe nodded, not very good at such formal speech from someone who was not an officer.

"The same." He settled for, that was simple enough. Then before he knew it he was back in his tent. He spun a full circle, and he truly was back in his tent. There was no doubt about it.

What was more amazing was that the men had not yet begun the heavy drinking, he was still in time to get drunk with them, and to hell with what the officers thought. They could get drunk themselves if they wanted to, he'd drink with his men.

As soon as he had given Harris the bloody book before it went missing again, who knew where a book could go of to?

I shall make a temporary ending here, as I myself need to find a book or two that might very well have sneaked off to the Kingdom of Dust when I was not looking.

Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:

I think part of my dragon collection has snuck off there as well... I can't find my purple one, keep a look-out for it if you will?

Other than that I have (yet again) nothing to add. Until next week!

Silver Sniper: Seeing the humour of me and Celebrion we would be aiming for 101, and we will see what we can do about that. I hoped that you got every laugh you hoped for out of this one. I also hope that all the testes went well, teachers are evil. Take care now.

Lindahoyland: Is it just me who thinks that the alerts both got more confusing at the same time? Ah, I am glad that you think that I have captured the characters well, it means a lot to me. A part of our original idea for this was to mix in some other characters, but we will always get back to Aragorn sooner or later, have no fear. Also, if I am inspiring you to write, then you should know how much your kind words inspire me, it is the greatest time in the week when the reviews comes.

ForeverFaramir: I have noted the threat to kill me should I not update, and have decided to update to prevent further harm to the author of this tale. Seriously, you are so impatient, you shall just have to learn to wait like everyone else. No, I do not mean that, I just love to tease you. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter though, as my desire as always is to make people laugh.

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers