A: ***Just to avoid confusion, I made up the song verse coming up***

B: Some of you loyal readers may think that Denethor is slightly (or majorly) AU in this chapter again, but I think it's good for the story and I have plans for the rest of the story…this is going to go on (opinions?)!

Chapter 17

He was in trouble. That much he knew. He had a memory of a fire. A hot fire. His father was in it, burning, weeping, and screaming. His hands were white and burning. He called to him. He never answered.

He wept. Now, he had a sensation of being bound. Something was on top of him. All he saw was darkness. He forced his eyelids to open. Light. A bright light.

He tilted his head upward. There he was.

A familiar thing was reading a book. A man. A man he knew well. How dare he not see his torment!

"Father!" he screamed agonizingly, tears dripping down his cheeks. He thrashed around, panicking. He needed to escape…something. What bound him?

Denethor dropped his book and wrapped his arms around Faramir. "It's alright, Faramir. Faramir, you're safe. You're in the Houses of Healing. Son, you're safe."

Faramir gathered his surroundings. Yes, he was safe. A fire glowed in the hearth. The sky outside showed the twinkling of stars. He was in a bed. A white nightgown dressed him. He was covered in sheets. The sheets! That's why he felt trapped. But he noticed something else.

He was in his father's arms.

In a flash, Faramir remembered everything that had happened. He shook. He let out a sob and hugged his father.

"Shush, Faramir, shush," Denethor said. "I told you that you were safe. We rescued you from the fire."

"Are you alright?" Faramir couldn't help but ask that question.

"Yes. Why would you ask?"

Faramir didn't want the horrid images of the dream. It hurt him to see his father in so much torment.

"Faramir, lie down and rest," Denethor commanded, tilting Faramir back down to the bed. "Rest."

Faramir nodded, celebrating the luxurious feeling that the pillow he laid on gave him. The sheets warmed him and he just felt safe. Safe.

He felt his chest. Bandages wrapped around the wounds he received from Garapen. He rotated his sprained ankle. It hurt, but less than before. He felt his face. Scratches. Bandages were over the bloody punches.

"Good," said Denethor when Faramir lay down. He picked up the book. He soured, as if a thought crossed his face; a horrid thought that didn't seem to please him. "What did they do to you?"

Faramir hated his father then. How dare he bring back the torture he endured! Calmly, however, he answered rapidly, scanning the memories and then banishing them to places unknown.

"They tied me up, gagged me, blindfolded me. I think they hid me in the kitchen. Then they took me to Osgiliath. I was in this room, upstairs, I don't know where. They…they beat me and tortured me, tried to…drown me. Boromir…" Faramir held back tears, "…Boromir was brought in a little while after. Then they had us together for a while, and then they took him away. And…they burned me… and Boromir…" Faramir choked on sobs.

Denethor patted his son's shoulder. He had little emotion in his voice. "It's alright, Faramir. It's alright. Don't cry."

Faramir's lip quivered. He shouted, "But they killed him!"

"What?"

Faramir bit his lip in rage of Ceredon, who showed him the bloody dagger and said his brother had passed on with his fathers. "They killed him! They killed Boromir! How do you not know?"

Denethor looked at his son with great distress. He slowly said, "What do you mean, Faramir?"

Faramir didn't know what Denethor meant, but Faramir took the tone his father used as a mockery. It was as if he didn't know what he was talking about! As if he didn't know what blood was!

Faramir almost bellowed at his father, but the door opened.

Boromir, face looking at a tray of food, entered the room and began. "Father if you wish to leave…" Boromir looked up. He halted. He laughed.

"Faramir!" He placed the tray on top of the hearth and ran to his brother.

Faramir stared at the image running before him. "B-Boromir!"

Boromir was more than two steps away from the bed before Faramir leapt onto his brother.

Faramir was crying, clutching his brother's neck. Boromir laughed, happy to see his brother safe and sound. Finally safe and sound.

Faramir was speechless. Was this really his brother? Were these his brother's arms wrapped around him. Was his brother here? He hugged him all the tighter.

"Oh, you're alive!" Boromir put his brother back on the bed. "When you didn't wake up for the last few hours I was so worried!"

Faramir cried more, overwhelmed with so much emotion.

Boromir worried more, more than he had been previously. Faramir was so upset. He looked to his father, searching for answers.

Denethor kept the same monotone expression. "He thought that you were dead. He was quite convinced of it."

Boromir gaped. "Oh, Faramir. Faramir!" he hugged his brother again, trying to prove that it really was him. "I'm fine. You're alright. Everything is settled."

Faramir gently tore away from the hug, nodding. "I know."

Boromir sat on the bed next to his brother, arm draped around his shoulder. While Denethor went to retrieve the food, Boromir whispered, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"That's the last thing that I want to do!" Faramir cruelly said.

"Alright." Boromir let silence echo for a few moments, letting Faramir relinquish his anger. "Now, didn't I promise you that we'd spend an afternoon together in the archery range?"

Faramir's face suddenly lit up. "Can we still go?"

"Of course."

Denethor interrupted while sorting through the selection of food. "But the healer, Ioreth, has to permit your release. You are not leaving these Houses until you are safe to walk without collapsing."

Faramir reluctantly agreed to his father's wishes.

Denethor continued as he laid the tray in front of Faramir. "Eat. Faramir, Boromir, we have four of the captors. Were there any more other than the soldiers?"

Boromir answered, "No, I only saw four."

Faramir was pale. His hands started shaking. He tried to control it as he reached for some bread; bread that one captor had probably prepared.

"Cook helped me kidnap them. Ah! No! I mean they…Cook tied me up the first time!"

"Cook helped?" Boromir asked, growing hot with fury. Anyone that touched his little brother was worthy of a death sentence after long hours of torture.

"Guard!" Denethor boomed.

The guard answered hastily.

"Arrest Cook for helping to kidnap my sons!"

"As you wish, milord." The guard left, signaling for many guards to follow him.

Faramir bit his lip. He still had the image in his head. The tying up, blindfolding, being carried, being helpless… he hated it. He loathed not being able to move for hours on end. He hated seeing his brother suffer the same torture. He didn't want the memories to return, but he didn't have a choice.

They marched on.

Boromir hugged him.

The fire in the hearth had turned to embers. Denethor relit it, as Boromir had to leave to arrest the Cook and lay charges against the other kidnappers. Denethor had told Boromir that it would be good practice for later becoming Steward, but that wasn't the real reason.

Denethor held the candle close to Faramir's face. He was lying on his side, face towards his father. Denethor sat down and laid the candle on the bedside table.

"Faramir," Denethor breathed. "Do you remember what our moment together was like before you were kidnapped?"

Faramir nodded. It hurt to be reminded of it. He hated his father's stern eyes when he was angry.

"I want to deeply apologize, son." Denethor fingered the pages of the book he held, nervous. "You-you had information about a rebellion and because I didn't listen to you, you paid the price. If my reaction was different, then things would have transpired differently."

"It's alright, Father. You were busy."

"And you were taken from me because I wouldn't listen to you. That's inexcusable."

Faramir nearly gaped. Was this really happening? Did it just happen? Was his father…Faramir could've jumped for joy.

"And…" Denethor continued, "There is another matter I wish to discuss. The instructor that you have is not meeting my expectations, so you will receive a new instructor. And we will not educate you in a desk for much longer. If you wish it, you will be educated in the ways of the sword."

Faramir sat up, winced from the pain of the burned skin, and laid back down slowly. With hopeful eyes, he asked, "Really?"

"Do you wish it?"

"Yes!"

Denethor's face didn't move. But his eyes were full of something. Something that Faramir hadn't seen in his father's eyes before. A hint of pride.

Denethor stuttered, "And…and I wanted to…to…Faramir, open this book and read to me. I'll help you as you stumble."

Faramir nearly dropped the book when his father gave it to him. "What do you mean, Father?"

Denethor stared at Faramir. "I mean read! Read to me! How would you not understand? Now, begin!"

Faramir opened the book to page one. The book was of poetry; beautiful songs from the greatest scribes of Gondor. Faramir always loved music. His father knew it. He was going to read songs of Gondor to his father!

Faramir licked his lips and concentrated as best he could over the bubble of joy and pride he felt. "When all is lost…I can…cannot hide! The g…gree…great-est hope is at my side. The king shall come and win our wars. And he will o-open every…door?"

"Good, Faramir," Denethor said in a monotone. "You did that from memory, didn't you? Continue."

Faramir hid his smile.

Unbeknown to father and son, Boromir creaked the door open when he heard Faramir reading. He let a smile sneak onto his face. He peeked in at his father and little brother. His brother was reading songs to his father?! Denethor looked uncomfortable helping Faramir read, but he was trying. Faramir was smiling uncontrollably.

Boromir slowly closed the door and turned to bed.

He promised Faramir that this moment would come…and he wasn't going to spoil it.

That night, Faramir went to bed in the Houses of Healing. His father stayed by his side until he fell asleep.

Faramir fell asleep to the only memory of his mother that he had.

"Mama!" Faramir ran to his weakening mother.

"Hello, dearest!" she kissed him on the cheek. She was growing thinner, though her youngest didn't know why. She was growing tired.

"Mama sing?" the year old asked.

His mother smiled. "I don't see why not. Boromir?"

The six year-old rushed in, smiling. "Mama, will you sing?"

"For my two beautiful boys? Of course I will!"

Boromir jumped up and down, excited. Faramir smiled and laughed.

She sat down in the rocking chair, taking Faramir into her lap. Boromir climbed onto his mother's knees. Both boys lay across her chest, snuggling close to her. The kind woman cuddled her sons.

She started softly singing. The melody rang throughout the nursery.

"When all is lost, I cannot hide. The greatest hope is at my side. The king shall come and win our wars. And he shall open every door."

Faramir closed his eyes, letting the song ring in his heart, his mother's voice singing. That moment caused him to love music, even now. And he remembered his mother as he fell asleep that night. And he could've sworn that she was in the room with him, singing, and being with him.