by Queen of Gondor

A golden light flickered in the room up ahead. Faramir frowned. He thought that he was the only one up at this hour, apart from the guards. He approached quieter, and looked around the corner. There stood Boromir, he was looking at the statue of Isildur, and touching the smoothness of it. Faramir let out a sigh, if it had been his father, he would have surely been put to punishment or work right away, for sneaking up on him.

Boromir turned around, and smiled. “My brother, what are you doing up at this hour?”

Faramir walked closer in and stood beside Boromir. “I might ask you the same question.” Faramir grinned.

“I was just thinking, about nothing in particular. You know, when I heard someone behind me, I didn’t turn for a moment because I thought that it might be father, and I don’t want his face to be the last I see this night. Our city is under so much danger, and all father can do, is nothing, but send all of the soldiers to Osgiliath. Faramir, tell me, why are you here so late?”

Faramir looked down at the stone floor, he was no longer smiling. “I had another ‘talk’ with father. I try to avoid him as much as possible, but he always seems to find me, and our talks, always get worse.”

Boromir put his arm around Faramir, “Maybe you should not avoid him then. It is wrong that he fights constantly with you, and never gives you any praise, but that is just him.”

Faramir leant away from Boromir. “You only think that would work because you never argue with him. I am second to you, I do not mean as much, I don’t do as good, he does not see anything happening with me. He feels that I will only bring shame to him, that I can do nothing right. I would do whatever it was, to get him to praise me, but when I do what he wants, you would always do it better. It is a competition, he compares me to you constantly.”

“Then maybe you should try and persuade him, do something better, bigger.” Boromir answered.

“Do you not see it? Nothing I do is good enough, whatever I find that is better to persuade him with, it must go through him, he must approve of it. And whatever I find that is just perfect, he tells me that I am not good for it, I am not strong enough, he tells me that you should do it, and you do!” A tear appeared in the corner of his eye. Boromir stood still, and silent, Faramir just looked at Isildur. “He acts as if he is king, when you and I both know he is not. He orders everyone about as if he is king, I just want to not see him again, lest he think better of me, and that is a hopeless thought.” The tear fell down his fair face.

Boromir put his strong arms around Faramir, it hurt him to see his brother so. “Little brother, I shall leave you to think, and wander on your own now. Besides, I am quite tired.” He smiled and left the room. Faramir walked around, feeling the smooth wall as he walked.

Faramir soon grew tired of wandering around the kings of old, as much as it interested him very much. He walked to the each of the lamps, and put the flames out. He left the room in darkness.

A cool breeze greeted him when he reached outside. He walked over to the balcony, and looked over his beautiful country, that was now buried in fear. Lamps were lit in the stone streets below, and he could see a few guards here and there, walking around, making sure that their city was safe, for now.

The fires on Mordor had grown larger in the past couple of months. Faramir still tried to keep his spirits high, for it was summer, and he loved it. He loved the warm sunshine on his skin, the fresh smell every morning, blue skies, and mostly, the fields of Pelennor and the green leaves on all of the trees.

He breathed in deeply, and then let it out. He could hear nothing but some footsteps every now and then.

He began to think…

Father and his plans of victory ever failing. This was a strong country before he was steward, and it will be a strong company after. I am the second son, I mean less to father every day, I know it, and he most certainly knows it.

The wind blew his light brown hair around his face, and cooled him down. It really had been a bit warm in that stuffy room.

The past kings ruled in days of glory, when no evil disturbed them, this country.

Faramir stopped thinking. He heard footsteps behind him, he already knew who it was, the footsteps stopped behind him.

“Faramir, you must get some sleep.” For a brief moment Faramir thought his father had said something loving towards him, but he continued, “your weariness only brings more shame to me, and we both know you have already placed enough of that on me.”

Faramir turned to face his father, “Father, I am sorry that I bring shame to you, may I inquire to why you are up and about so late?”

“You may certainly not inquire to that, I am the steward of Gondor! I may do as I please!” Denethor stormed.

“You may be steward, but you are most certainly not king!” Faramir said sharply. He walked off before Denethor could reply, and left him standing in the cold wind.