Here is chapter two of Exchanged. I probably be putting up a new chapter every day, but in thanks to Minstrel of Gondor for following this story, I am putting up another chapter. Sorry its so short. This chapter is in Denethor's POV. No one belongs to me, they all belong to J RR Tolkien:( Let me know what you think about it.

The next morning, Denethor, who had stayed at his desk all night working, got up, looking at his son Faramir, who was still kneeling, head bowed in weariness. His breath caught, as he saw what he did to his son while he was in the darkness of the palantír Moving towards his youngest, he watched in sorrow as Faramir jerked away from his touch. Denethor dropped to his knees beside his son, wincing at the hard floor that he had made Faramir kneel on all night. He griped Faramir under his arms, and struggled to his feet, dragging his son with him. Once Faramir was standing up, somewhat limply, Denethor moved him to one of the chairs by the died down fire.

He searched for a covering, but finding none he quickly unfastened his own cloak, draping it over Faramir. He sank to the floor beside the chair, gripping his sons hand "My son. Forgive me." weeping he rested his head on the chair arm, watching as his son sank into a deep sleep.

There was a knock on his door after a hour, and Denethor quickly stood, keeping his face a mask against the pain of straightening. Brushing off his clothes, he walked over to his desk, and sitting down, he called out "Enter."

The door opened, and Boromir stepped into the room. He walked towards the desk, before he stopped abruptly, looking to the chair that Faramir was still sleeping in. "Father? What's wrong with Faramir?"

Denethor looked towards his sons and took a imperceptible breath "I kept him up too late last night." He had no desire to tell his eldest of his treatment of Faramir.

Boromir looked closer at his brother in concern "Yes, he hasn't had a restful sleep since the battle at the bridge." He turned back to his father "And you, did you rest yestereven?"

Denethor shook his head, and motioned to the papers strewn across the desk "No, I have been busy." He motioned to the chair across his desk, and Boromir sat, looking curiously at the papers on the desk. Denethor sat as well, stacking the papers, gathering his thoughts

"What do you propose we do about the dream, Father?"

Boromir's question broke the silence, and made Denethor glance at Faramir for a instant. He turned back to Boromir "I will be sending on of you to Rivendell, to seek answers about this dream."

Boromir nodded "I will go."

A slight noise on the other side of the room caused them both to look towards Faramir. He was standing tall, and Denethor was impressed by his ability to keep the pain off his face. Faramir took a step forward "No. I shall go. The way is dangerous, and you are injured brother."

Denethor closed his eyes for a moment, then opening them he saw that Faramir was looking directly at him. "Faramir, I will send your brother."

Faramir took a step forward, wavering, but slightly enough that Denethor almost missed it, and looked hard into his father's eyes. Denethor sighed, inclining his head. He knew that Faramir would do anything to keep his brother safe, and he also knew that his words to him in the evening had struck him deep.

"I will send you."

Boromir sat up strait "Father, if it is dangerous than surly I should be the one to go. Faramir can stay here, and-"

Denethor cut him off with a raised hand "Enough. Your brother is going." He turned to Faramir gesturing him from the room "Get you things together. You leave after we break our fast." He watched as Faramir bowed, and hurriedly left the room, draping his cloak on a chair as he went.