Walls Are White

"Faramir! Come on, wake up, 'lil bro!"

Someone was shaking him. "Just five more minutes…"

"Come on! Wake up!"

Faramir rolled on his side. Then he realized he wasn't in his royal bed. He was lying on the wooden floor! Why was he there? Huh. He didn't remember falling asleep on the floor. Whatever. He looked up and saw who was standing over him. He groaned. "No. Not you. Not again…"

"You're right as rain it's me! Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Not really, no. At least not at this hour of the night…what time is it anyway?"

"About midnight. If we want to decorate, we'll have to do it now!"

"…What if I don't want to decorate?"

Boromir put his 'King Face' on. "I order you to get up and help me...now!"

Faramir groaned again. Why, oh why did Boromir enjoy causing trouble so much?

Boromir turned to leave, hiding a smile as he heard a sigh and a creak and a 'pop-pop-pop!' as Faramir got up, crossed the room, and stretched. Somehow, he always got Faramir to join him in whatever mischief he was about to cause.

Walls Are White

Denethor took a sip of his coconut milk, then spit it out, gagging. He turned to his attendant, a young hobbit who squeaked in fright and horror anytime Denethor so much as twitched an eyebrow…and Denethor, being the pompous king he was, did a LOT of eyebrow-twitching.

"What is this disgusting stuff?" Denethor asked, twirling the little umbrella that came with the drink.

"I-I-It's…coconut…milk…s-sir," The little hobbit stammered.

Denethor sat straight up in his hammock, causing his coconut milk to spill everywhere and the little hobbit to almost faint from fright. "That's 'Your Royal Highness, Mighty Steward of Gondor' to you!''

That did it. The little hobbit sank to the ground in a faint.

Denethor leaned back in his hammock. So far, this cruise hadn't been bad. As soon as he'd gotten on, he'd found out that his cabin was a very large room with a king – size canopy bed, mini refrigerator, futon, and a hot tub. And the meals weren't too bad – actually, they were quite good – but Denethor would never admit that. But something kept nagging at the back of his mind. He wasn't worried at all that Boromir would do something wrong. Of course not! Boromir was as good of a steward as Denethor! His brother on the other hand…he might cause a problem. Denethor had never liked his second son. Faramir wasn't a warrior like Boromir was. He was a lowly scholar. Why did you need books, when all that mattered was if you could fight in a war to defend Gondor? Faramir couldn't even lift an ax - he could barely wield a sword. Denethor could have him sent off to a boarding school, of course, but that would mean other people would find out about him – something Denethor did not want to happen. He'd rather keep Faramir in the castle where no one knew he was there – or that he even existed, for that matter. People would whisper and laugh if they knew about Faramir, and Denethor would like to keep at least some of his dignity, thank you very much!

Ah, well. Denethor would just relax on this vacation – that was why he'd come, after all: to forget that he even had a second son.

Trying to take his mind off his sons, Denethor flagged down a passing waiter. "Waiter, bring me a coke!"