"Little brother, wake up", Boromir said.
Faramir was still very weak one week after birth. Now with the winter weather beginning to grow harsher, he was now sick. The midwife provided little hope to the family saying Faramir might not make it through the winter.
"Hush, Boromir", Finduilas said as she held Faramir in her arms. "Your brother is still sick. He needs his rest."
"When will he get better, Mama?" Boromir asked.
"I do not know", she answered honestly. "Right now I need you to pray for him to get better. Pray to our ancestors that Faramir will get better."
"Papa won't pray. Papa says as soon as Faramir isn't sick anymore he wants to try again for a daughter."
"Denethor…"
Finduilas glared wondering how Denethor could be so uncaring about his younger son. Did he not care if his own son would live or die? She wondered why he was so hateful.
"Boromir, when you go to bed, please pray for your little brother", Finduilas said.
"Yes, Mama", Boromir said.
"Go to your chambers and get into bed. Your father and I need to talk."
She kissed his forehead and sent him on his way. Boromir walked down the corridor to his room. He crawled into bed and looked at his window. The shutters were closed to keep the wind and snow out, but he wanted to be sure his prayers were heard. Boromir opened the shutters enough to see the North Star he knew as Elendil.
"Please", he said in his prayer. "Please make my little brother all better. Mama is scared and sad and me too. I don't want my little brother to die. Please make Faramir all better."
Finduilas kissed Faramir's forehead as she laid him in his cradle. She gently touched his face, his cheeks red from the fever he had.
"My poor boy", she said. "Do not fret. I will make you well again. I do not know how but I will."
"You're not still fretting over that child, are you?" Denethor asked.
"I have every reason to fret. Faramir is sick. He is your son, Denethor. Why can you not accept it?"
"That boy is not what I wanted", he said. "I wanted a daughter, not another son."
"You cannot get everything you want, Denethor", Finduilas said. "You have no power to receive your every little wish. I will not let you use me to breed a daughter."
"Are you defying me, Finduilas?" Denethor asked.
"I am your wife. If I were defying you, what could you do?"
Finduilas glared as Denethor left the room. She looked down at Faramir who coughed weakly. Finduilas kept her eyes on her son as she knelt beside his crib.
"Please", she began to pray. "Do not let my youngest son die. His life has barely begun. Is he to die without having to live a long and happy life? Please let my Faramir live. I would give my own life in exchange for his."
Finduilas stood and went to join Denethor in bed. It would be the last time they would enjoy each other's company as that night, her prayers would be answered.