Son of Denethor

Chapter Five

I know Faramir is worried because he won't stop glancing over his shoulder. I, too, am having a hard time calming myself down. A few minutes more, and I would have been dead.

"Can you teach me how to fight?" I ask, my voice harshly breaking through the silence of the forest at night.

Faramir raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"There's no need for me to worry about being ladylike now," I say dryly, "considering my reputation is dirtied anyway."

"But still..." His voices trails away. "I suppose you're right." He pulls out a dagger from his sheath and hands it to me.

I take it, testing my grip on the hilt, surprised at how heavy it is. "What do I do?"

"For now?" He grins slowly. "You're going to get used to holding a weapon."

I carry the knife until sunrise. My fingers are starting to cramp up. When we finally do stop, I set the dagger on the ground and stretch out my hands.

"Pick it back up," Faramir says, the twinkle appearing in his eye. This time, I don't like seeing it.

"Why?"

"Your other hand needs to test it out," he says lightly, sitting down on an overturned log a few feet away.

I grimace, but pick up the blade again and go to sit beside him. My legs are sore, but it's my feet that hurt the most. My thin slippers are most definitely not suitable for hiking through forests. They're full of small holes and stained with dirt. I take them off and throw them into the undergrowth.

"You sure you won't need those later?"

I glare at him. "I guess I should get used to roughing it out in the bush, shouldn't I?" I ask, forcing a sickly smile onto my face.

"I'm glad it was you that I was stuck with," he says abruptly, his eyes gazing into mine.

My throat goes dry, and I fumble for something to say. "Because I can cook?" I blurt out, feeling foolish.

The moment is over. He grins. "Of course," he said, "and because you are amazing at hide and seek."

I thought, once again, how strange it was that we were still close friends. He was rich, I was poor. He was a man, and I was still a confused young girl. I should be laundering his clothes back at his grand house, or scrubbing away at the fine dishes he ate from.

"Do you ever think yourself above me?" I ask, dreading the answer. The question had been at the back of my mind for years.

He grabbed my elbow with such force that I winced. He loosened his grip. "Miriel, listen to me." He spat the words out fiercely. "Never think such things again. If anything, you are above me."

Once again, he has me at a loss for words. I feel my cheeks turning scarlet, and self-consciously I reach up a hand to tuck my hair behind my ear.

Faramir clears his throat. "Shall we?" he asks, then continues on through the tangle of branches.

"How large is this forest?" I decide to make normal conversation. I shouldn't feel like this. I should feel comfortable around him. My heart shouldn't be beating this fast.

"Getting tired already?"

"No..." I'm lying and he knows it.

"We'll reach the edge by nightfall."

"Do you miss your father?"

"I don't know." He stops talking for a minute. I decide not to press him further when he continues talking. "I should. Maybe when we've been gone longer. Do you miss your mother?"