My Son {Faramir, Boromir} [January 3010]
Nov 19, 2017 13:43:03 GMT -5
Post by DENNY on Nov 19, 2017 13:43:03 GMT -5
The Steward had descended the tower of the kings, and as he approached courtyard exit in the bright light of day. He had climbed down three hundred feet, fifty fathoms. None save the Steward himself were allowed in the upper room of the tower, and it was where he kept his greatest treasure, the Arnor-stone. The banner of Gondor flew from the uppermost point, one thousand feet above the great plains of the Pelennor, that all who approached the city from the Rammas Echor could see it waving in the breeze and know of which the glory they were approaching.
Upon reaching the battlement, the Steward walked along the grey stone cobbles of the final steps, and as he left the Tower Court, he first saw his son Boromir, yet it seemed that coming across the courtyard from the other direction was Faramir himself. Denethor had not a smile on his face to greet them, but a compelling thought that he should hear their news.
“My sons.” He waited until they had approached together. It was a surprise, for rarely did all three come together in the courtyard in the middle of the day. Such were their days filled with study, strategy, and training. The rest of their days were spent among the wilds of Ithilien and training with the Tower Guard, where they kept lands clear of the evil that was infiltrating in from the east. The young Captains of Gondor were busy men, and they worked well enough to gain their titles.
Despite his love for both his sons, Denethor had always looked to Boromir first, the one whom he favored. Perhaps a slight relief filled the shaken Steward, from his earlier study into the Palantir as he looked upon his eldest. Boromir had grown into a fine man; the best that Gondor had ever seen. In his blood ran the river Anduin, and in his heart the White City. Faramir also now, his second son who was before him. He pressed his lips together as he looked upon the young man so like himself.
“I must know all news of the armies and stations, especially those of which in Ithilien,” he said to them shortly. Denethor was after all the Steward, and a request from the Steward must be granted, whether or not the Captains were off to their own doings, for either work or rest.
Upon reaching the battlement, the Steward walked along the grey stone cobbles of the final steps, and as he left the Tower Court, he first saw his son Boromir, yet it seemed that coming across the courtyard from the other direction was Faramir himself. Denethor had not a smile on his face to greet them, but a compelling thought that he should hear their news.
“My sons.” He waited until they had approached together. It was a surprise, for rarely did all three come together in the courtyard in the middle of the day. Such were their days filled with study, strategy, and training. The rest of their days were spent among the wilds of Ithilien and training with the Tower Guard, where they kept lands clear of the evil that was infiltrating in from the east. The young Captains of Gondor were busy men, and they worked well enough to gain their titles.
Despite his love for both his sons, Denethor had always looked to Boromir first, the one whom he favored. Perhaps a slight relief filled the shaken Steward, from his earlier study into the Palantir as he looked upon his eldest. Boromir had grown into a fine man; the best that Gondor had ever seen. In his blood ran the river Anduin, and in his heart the White City. Faramir also now, his second son who was before him. He pressed his lips together as he looked upon the young man so like himself.
“I must know all news of the armies and stations, especially those of which in Ithilien,” he said to them shortly. Denethor was after all the Steward, and a request from the Steward must be granted, whether or not the Captains were off to their own doings, for either work or rest.
