Untitled - BoG-Archive

Denethor nodded, and his eyes softened. "And if you do exceptionally well
in minding your behavior," he added, "you shall hear the tale of the day your
aunts, my sisters, performed a similar experiment upon my own willing head."
Green and blue eyes both widened in surprise, but before either of the
children could ask, Denethor held up a quieting finger, his face set in lines just as
stern as before.
"But only if you are both obedient, and properly mind both your governess
and I in all things," he said firmly. The softness still gleamed in his dark eyes,
however. "Now you may go, and I will see you both later on this evening."
Boromir and Faramir then smiled for the first time since entering their
father's chamber, and executed a pair of perfect, formal bows.
"Yes, Father," they said in unison, and still hand in hand walked quickly
from the room, their steps considerably lighter than when they entered.
Denethor watched them leave, then returned to his mountain of
paperwork, now with a small smile gracing his countenance.
The next day found the Steward consistently busy with the typical council
meetings and duty-tending that always accompanied the return from a lengthy
journey. Denethor, however, did find time to seek his sons out, just to see if his
suspicions to their activities proved true.
He found Boromir fully engaged in sword practice with the arms master,
plying his magnificent new weapon with great zeal. Denethor observed
unnoticed from a distance, but even from there he could see the broad smile of
joy on his eldest son's sweat-streaked face as he skillfully swung the blade.
Denethor nodded, and set off to find Faramir.
The youngest boy was discovered in his chamber, curled up on the
comfortably cushioned window-seat. Faramir sat bathed in sunlight as he
finished his book, the atrocious haircut upon his head forgotten for the moment.
So thoroughly absorbed was he in the tale that he failed to notice his father
peeping discreetly through the half-open door, just long enough to answer his
curiosity. Once Denethor saw Faramir reading his book, a familiar expression of
quiet enjoyment on his young face, the Steward silently slipped away and left the
child undisturbed.
Just as quietly, Denethor began the long journey back to his study, to the
papers and problems that seemed now to be never-ending. But for now the
Steward's mind was on lighter things, on his sons and their promising fidelity to
the ideals of courage and honor, and on far older memories created long before
he had shouldered his current heavy burdens.
74