Son of Denethor

Chapter One

I scrub away at the soiled linen, burning my hands in the soapy water. I wipe sweat from my brow and turn to look at my mother. "Mother, can I go now? I've been doing this for hours!"

"Please, Miriel. You're seventeen, not nine anymore. Soon you're going to have a family of your own to care for. What will happen if you don't know the first thing about housework?"

I heave a sigh at the basket piled high with dirty clothes and sheets. "But Faramir..." I try to protest.

"Your sweetheart can spare you for another hour or two, I'm sure." Tendrils of her grey streaked hair are plastered to her neck with sweat.

"He's not my sweetheart!" A red flush creeps it's way up my neck and cheeks. Thankfully, it's already rosy from the steam of the water. And it's true, he's not... But everyone thinks we are involved in some way. Sometimes even I think there's something between us.

I admit I was worried that our friendship would end when I reached an older age and began "wife school" as we call it. Especially considering that Denethor, his father, already thinks of Faramir as a failure and disgrace to the family.

It doesn't help matters much that Boromir has a strong hand with a sword, and has led Minas Tirith to victory (and himself to glory), many times.

I know it hurts Faramir to see the lavish praise bestowed on his elder brother, but he speaks nothing of it. He prefers to speak of happier events when I am with him.

A clattering of hooves sound on the cobblestones at the front of the house, and I quickly wipe my hands on the front of my apron. Tavara, my younger sister, rushes down the path to meet me. "Better hurry," she says. "It's Faramir."

I untie my apron, and tuck loose hair behind my ears before walking out to the front. Faramir dismounts his horse and walks over to me, smiling. "I thought I should come see you to make sure nothing was amiss."

"I am alright," I say, shielding my eyes from the glare of the sun, which reflects off of the white towers and houses of the White City. "Just laundering. Again."

A light breeze rustles the trees and cools my burning face. But only slightly. "I shall beg of your mother to let you come with me for a while," he says.

I nod eagerly. "Please do!"

We walk around to the back garden where Mother is still hard at work, pinning clothes to dry. She looks up exasperatedly. "Sir Faramir, Miriel is busy at the moment. Perhaps another time would be better?"

"Mother! Surely Tavara could help you with the rest of the wash, could she not?" I am starting to whine a bit now. "After all, it is never too early to start with these valuable lessons!"

It is clear she does not believe me, but I wait with bated breath anyway. "Fine!" She waves me away. "Go, but do not be out too long. Behave yourself!"

Faramir and I run down the dusty street. He always leaves his horse in our garden, so we can race. He always wins, but I know it's because I have to wear long skirts.

We run to the edge of the city gates, something we do more and more now that we're grown. It helps to leave the bustling crowd. We walk through the gate, and then we're free.

Faramir loops his arm through mine, making my breath catch in my throat, even though he does this every day. "How are you?" I ask him.

He looks down at me and smiles.

"Well enough, I suppose. Boromir is gone to Bree, though I am sure you have heard by now."

"Bree! Why would he be going so far?" I ask, surprise evident in my voice.

He shrugs his shoulders. "Meetings and counsels, I suppose. The house is quiet, though, and lonely." His voice trails off, and we walk in silence for a few moments.

The wind picks up and blows my hair around my face. I sigh and do my best to arrange it around my face.

"I like it better when it's messy," Faramir says.

"Oh." I say. "But Mother doesn't."

"What does that matter to anyone?" He swings his arms at his sides, pulling me along.

"It matters. Because I'm getting married soon."

He stops. "Married? Have you received any proposals?"

"Not yet." I shake my head, and tug on his arm. We begin walking again, drawing closer to the forest. "But I must be ready when it does come."

"You're only- goodness. You're seventeen." He looks shocked.

"Yes!" I laugh at his expression. "Does that surprise you?"

He nods, and pulls me along, so that we're full on running now. The wind pulls tears from my eyes and they trace streaks down my face.

We step through the first low hanging branches and into the forest. It's quiet. A few birds are singing, but other than that the only sound is our breathing.

"I don't want you to get married," he says sadly, looking up at the towering oaks.

"Neither do I," I say. I'm beginning to feel downcast at this conversation.

"How is your family?" I ask.

He laughs loudly. "Did you not see them just two days ago?"

I smile widely. "Oh yes. Are they still well?"

"Very. Boromir is leaving Gondor tomorrow."

"Is he?" I flop down on a patch of moss and lean back on my elbows. "Where is he going this time?"

"Rivendell, the House of Elrond." He sits down next to me. The scent of his horse is still strong on his skin.

"I wish I could go with him." I say.

Faramir looks over at me and frowns. "Why? You don't like it here?"

"I do, but I want to see more of Middle-Earth. I want to speak with the Elves. I want to walk through the Shire, visit Rohan."

"As do I." But we both know we won't get the chance. Faramir has to stay here to pick up the work load that Boromir leaves behind. And I- it's out of the question. Mother would never let me go.

I fight the tired feeling that's falling over me, but it wins out in the end, and I close my eyes.