Grim Fear [My Sons]

[Denethor II]

Once, it had been only brief glances into the upper chamber of the tower. A curiosity. An urge. A fascination of history and strategy. None had dared to do so until Denethor II, Son of Ecthelion became Steward.

The Lord Denethor, Ruling Steward of Gondor, had not chanced to look into the Anor-stone until after his father’s death. He thought to use it, once or twice, to keep record on that Grey Wizard. And Thorongil, the future claimant of the rule of Gondor. Thorongil… the man, known to others as Aragorn, was a descendant of Isildur, and his brother Anarion. His line came from Firiel, daughter of Anarion, who had been slain at the foot of Barad-dur.

The north people were not fit to rule. They had fallen long ago, and were a wandering nation. There was no nobility left in that blood. Even further, this Aragorn was a descendent of Anarion through the female line. Only a male line descendent had the right to claim the throne, and there were none remaining. Denethor himself was the true Ruler of Gondor. And the true Avenger of the enemy.

All his days, Denethor would serve Gondor as Steward with the white staff at his side. The seeing-stone had become a great advantage, and he wondered that none of the Stewards before him had the bravery to look into it. From it, the man could not only see the goings and comings of the North Kingdom and Aragorn, but also the goings and comings of Gondor, itself. It had saved him many a chance of loss at battle. With the Palantir and strategy, Gondor still had the upper hand.

The man’s face was grim and resolute as he looked from the tower window across the plains of Pelennor. All these long years, the Stewards had sat at the foot of the great empty throne. A black chair in the Tower Hall. For all his effort and ruling of Gondor, he would only be known as a Steward. Not a King, but a Steward. A caretaker of the kingdom, a servant of the King.

The orb, uncovered behind him, gave him a sense of uneasiness at times. By using it, he became aware of many things happening in Gondor. Yet he had lately felt something else from the stone. Something was attempting to draw his gaze as he looked into it. The Steward was confident and as the rightful Steward and user, he could control the vision it gave him. It was as if another though was drawing him. He feared the Ithil-stone, which was rumored to have fallen into the hands of the enemy. It was a grim thought.

A bit shaken, and fearful, the man quickly covered the stone. It seemed that the uneasiness dimmed, and the bright light shone in through the tower window. Denethor looked once more through the window. He heard the bells chiming in the city below, and he left the chamber, closing the door behind him and descending the long, winding flight of stairs back to the seventh tier.

[Boromir]

The sun was warm yet its rays seemed weak today. Or so it was Boromir's impressions of it as he left the hall to have a training session. Even when off duty, Boromir was always working out his skills whether it was his logical or martial ones. He barely saw his father as he walked to the tower. Of course, he greeted him properly but Boromir was not caring about his father's whereabouts since a while now. Not that he disliked the man, it was far from that. But since his wife's death, Denethor became grim and solitary. At first, it hurt the young Boromir but as he grew older, he understood any success or victories he or Faramir could achieve would not bring back their father to his old state.

Sometimes, Boromir was wondering if something else than his mother's death was the cause of his father's grief. With the threats of Mordor, the very cause of Finduilas's death, there seemed to be plenty of reasons to act like Denethor was. Still, Boromir had wished his father would talk. But then again, talking wasn't something the men in the family were good at, except perhaps for Faramir. Never his father would express himself about his troubles. Perhaps it was better like this. Boromir had already enough on his shoulders, being a Captain of Gondor and the future Steward. Still, probably for that same reason, Boromir had wished his father would explain what in his duty was troubling him so much, why couldn't he be more like the Denethor Boromir recalled from his youth. Never his father had been the greatly affectionate type, but he was less worried, less grim.

Boromir chased away those thoughts. He had the luck to be the favorite after all, he shouldn't complain. He knew why his father didn't like Faramir much. He was more of a thinker, and he befriended that Grey Wizard. Boromir, on the other hand, looked more like his father. He was stronger and stockier in shape, he was leading the men not with his words but with his strength and courage. Faramir too had courage, but his words touched more the hearts. And their father was not a man of words...

Walking into the courtyard, Boromir took a sword and, with the swordsmaster, trained for a large portion of the day. It was rather silent around here and every now and then you could hear the metal of their sword has they hit one another and a groan sometimes. Boromir stopped the session so he could rest and fill his stomach. He parted with the man, leaving him his sword. He ate something quickly - even if he could eat a lot sometimes, he was also used to eat only the necessary - before leaving once more. This time though, he had no destination in mind. He simply wanted to wander around. His training was done and he had no meeting with strategists, he was indeed totally free.

On his way back, Boromir met his father once more. He nodded politely to him, unaware of his previous thoughts in the tower. "Father." he just said as he waited to know in what direction he was going. Although he was his son, Denethor was still the steward and therefor was more important. So Boromir had to give him the road.

[Faramir]

Quiet days like today were the best for reading. While Faramir could jest that he could read while war waged around him, he preferred silence. And had there been a war around him, he would much rather be in the midst of it, helping than standing back with a book in hand. While brave and strong, his best strengths were in his mind and in his words. His skills in battle were exceptional, and he deserved his title as a Captain most definitely. But, today, he hadn't spent training his swordsmanship or even archery. He'd read over historical battle plans, let his eyes drift over maps and thought of strategies for different examples of attack. Fighting had been wearing down on his mind lately. But, surely he wasn't the only one. He never could be.

When he finally allowed himself to escape the chamber of books and maps, he walked alone. He would never be the same type of man that his brother was or his father. And he knew, much to his own dismay that he'd never quite reach his father's expectations. As a child, his father's grimness had hurt him and even now, he was helpless to how he felt. It wasn't hard to see that he wasn't the favoured son, but it never caused bitterness towards his brother. It was just a burden on himself. He wanted his father to be proud of him. But, his achievements never seemed to measure up. No one could bring back the father that he had known in early childhood-- Before their mother's death.

Today had been spent more thoughtful than others. But, he appreciated the time to think and to possess himself in his own thoughts. As he returned from his walk, he saw his father and his older brother. Quietly, he approached, always polite. His father was the Steward after all and even if it hadn't been that way, Faramir wouldn't have acted differently.

A small nod was offered, but to his brother. Then, respectfully to Denethor. He thought consciously about what could be on their minds. Naturally, he read others and understood the nature of men. He always had. It was that attribute that made him a great leader. Understanding men's hearts helped him speak to them. On the battlefield, it was a great skill. But right now, it was one of those times where he tried to understand his father completely. He wished he'd speak, but he wasn't the type to share words in the way that Faramir was.

Of the three of them, Faramir knew that he differed more from the two of them. It was the perfect combination for the two brothers though and there was never a problem between them. But, sometimes, the idea that if he was more like Denethor than he'd be appreciated more. Too bad he couldn't change himself. Even if he could, he wouldn't.

[Denethor II]

Upon reaching the battlement, the Steward walked along the grey stone cobbles of the final steps, and as he left the Tower Court, he came upon first his son Boromir, but it seemed that coming from another direction and behind was Faramir as well. He had not smile on his face to greet them, but a compelling thought that he should hear from them each.

“My sons.” He waited to greet them until both were present. It was a surprise, for rarely were all three together at the same time; such were their days of study, strategy, and training. The young Captains of Gondor were busy men, and they both worked well enough to gain their titles.

Despite his love for both his sons, Denethor looked to Boromir first, the one whom he favored. Perhaps a slight relief filled the shaken Steward, from his earlier study into the Palantir. It was Boromir who reminded the Steward of how strong Gondor truly was. Him, and the men like him, who were never anxious in battle, and fought bravely for their cities and their country. He cared not for lore and literature, save the tales of ancient battles. Boromir would lead their people bravely to face that which accosted them.

He looked to Faramir now, his second son. Faramir was much like Denethor in many ways. He was studious, and enjoyed history and strategy as much as Denethor had at his age. They were both men wise at reading the hearts of others; yet where Denethor used such information in scorn, Faramir was often moved to pity. Denethor mourned the weakness that such his bright son held.

“I must know all news of the armies and stations, especially those of which in Ithilien,” he said to them shortly. Denethor was afterall the Steward, and a request from the Steward must be granted, whether or not the two Captains were off to their own doings, for either work or rest.

[Boromir]

Boromir was slightly surprised to see his brother joining them. It seemed so rare the moments those three were together. They were barely sharing the same table for diners anymore. Boromir was not the kind to weep over the past but he missed it, those meals in family. Yet he knew perfectly why they couldn't do as such anymore; each had too many responsibilities for the well-being of the land. And this was of course coming before meal in family.

For a second, Boromir couldn't help but to fear their father would speak only to him, or consider him only as his son. He knew their father loved Faramir simply he wasn't able to show it to him properly. And as long as Faramir knew and didn't feel resentfulness toward his brother, Boromir didn't mind. He loved his sibling and relied on him on several occasions. A better archer than he was. And when courage and the absence of fear toward the danger was not enough, Faramir was always able to find the words that could touch the hearts, unlike himself.

Although he wasn't thinking about spending his day with his family, Boromir was inclined to do so. He wondered if they could appear cold to other people. He was seeing so many times families sticking together, talking of their fears and worries. They were not of that type. They were three strong men standing next to each other, ready to support one as he fall but never speaking what's really inside them. As a man of war who barely never grew with a feminine presence to show him the importance of it, he didn't care much.

As their father spoke, demanding a report about Ithilien, Boromir remained silent. He was more staying in Osgiliath, Ithilien was Faramir's area. Considering Denethor wanted more specifically informations about this part, Boromir let his brother speak up first.

[Faramir]

At first judgement, Faramir wondered if Denethor would acknowledge him or not. Always second, he didn't carry any resentment to the man who was always first. In fact, it was rare for him to resent anyone. There were moments when he caught himself doubting the love of his father. However, he was always quick to mend the doubt and to remind himself that it wasn't so. Boromir was a true soldier of Gondor, and while Faramir considered himself no less, he knew that it was Boromir that represented the glory of the city. Lately, it had been easy not to think of roles in the family, because they were rarely together like this. Truthfully, he enjoyed being in both of their presences. Even if it was rare.

It was his area that was first mentioned, but Faramir assumed that he would speak of the armies. He was the Steward after all, and it was important for him to hear reports from the Captains. It was nothing that he would leave unfulfilled. "A few nights ago, the men found orcs moving in from the mountains. They were but a small group, but since, the men have been keeping look-out. I suspect it wasn't the last we'll see of it. I have men guarding routes of entry and prepared. But, the three nights have been still and silent." He explained in short what was taking place in Ithilien. Faramir understood how to be brief and quick about it.

After he was finished, he didn't turn his gaze away from his father, although he knew that Boromir would be the next to speak when he wanted him to. He hoped that his measures to protect their land were seen as correct. All that they could do now was wait and be sure that they didn't allow their guard to waver as they worked on strategies in case a battle were to come from any side.

[Denethor II]

Denethor waited for response of the Captains, looking to both Boromir and Faramir, though of course for the question he had asked, it was Faramir who spoke first. It appeared though that Boromir had looked to him to allow it. Boromir, being the oldest, was always expected first to answer.

"I suspect it wasn't the last we'll see of it. I have men guarding routes of entry and prepared. But, the three nights have been still and silent." He listened well to all of his son's words, though the last were still on his mind at the end of it. Not the last they will see, by all means, no. Denethor had seen well enough with the help of the Palantir such disgrace of the orcs in the mountains and upon the fair lands of Ithilien.

Fair lands that had turned dark.

Boromir was expected to speak next, perhaps of Osgiliath on the border, but Denethor knew well the strategy of Ithilien. Osgiliath need be strong for it were between Ithilien and Minas Tirith. Though Ithilien; it went all the way to the very brink of Mordor itself. Although, if the enemy were to overrun Ithilien, it would be all the more closer to Minas Tirith.

"Faramir, we have taken a multitude of new recruits, and I must disperse them as I see fit. If Ithilien is in need I would have them sent there first," Denethor started. In the plan of strategy, would this not make the most sense? To keep the enemy as far at bay as possible. If the orcs were seen among the mountains, there was no telling how long it would be before they made themselves so visible among the forests.

"But come, my Sons, let us speak over food and drink. It is ere noontime," the Steward said. It would not do the speak of such matters in the courtyard, where any might overhear. And Faramir would need a moment to consider his question afterall. This time he looked first to Faramir, and then to Boromir. Turning toward the Tower Hall, he started, expecting his sons to follow behind.

[Boromir]

Boromir's face darkened as he heard the report about Ithilien. This wasn't good although it was to be expected. Hopefully Faramir was in charge of this area. He would do what had to be done depending on the situation. Boromir just hoped Ithilien would not completely fall in the hands of the army. This would be terrible. That would bring the enemy closer to Minas Tirith. Of course, the idea of having to defend both Osgiliath and Cair Andros against the enemy was not bothering him, he was more than ready. But he feared the impact it would have if the eastern shore was to fall.

He listened to his father's words. Yes, more men certainly was a good if not the best idea for now. The proposition of Denethor to talk about it around a meal surprised him some. But he enjoyed the idea. It had been so long since they had eaten together that even if the matters would be dark, Boromir was happy about it. He wasn't showing it much, but the fact of being responsible of Gondor forced them all to stay in their corner, working sometimes together, mostly being away. This was hurting him at times, especially when he was seeing family sticking together. Those had less responsibilities, less on their shoulders, they could be all together. Not them.

"We had an encounter with some orcs at Cair Andros." Boromir said to his father as they walked. "They were only thirty but a sent a few more men there, just in case." he explained. He wasn't expecting his father to praise this gesture or anything. It was the clever thing to do. But he asked for a report and so Boromir filled him in. "Osgiliath is still rather calm compared to both Ithilien and Cair Andros."