Chapter 2

Faramir expected the lecture. Despite that fact, it did not make facing his father any easier.

"I cannot believe this!" Denethor exclaimed from his seat below the throne. "You know that are you not to handle any weapons until you are properly trained. You could have injured yourself far worse than you have. You could have injured someone else."

"I'm sorry, Ada."

"Sorry will not heal your foot. For punishment, you will not have any weapons training or spend time in the library for two weeks. And if this happens again, it will be along time before you are allowed to train."

"Yes, Ada" Faramir answered, looking at the floor. At his father's next words, his head shot up.

"And you, Boromir." Denethor continued, looking to his first-born.

"Adar?"

"If you cannot care for your weapons properly, perhaps you should not be in training. Leaving them where anybody can get hold of them. Your brother is young and though he may be at fault, you are not without your own."

"Yes, Adar" he spoke contritely.

"Also, I do not think I need to tell you that it does no good to the reputation of the House of the Stewards for you to be running through the halls half unclothed." Denethor said dryly.

"No, my lord."

"Very well. You are both dismissed to your chambers until the evening meal."

The two boys left the Great Hall silently and were halfway to their rooms before Faramir spoke. "I'm sorry, Boromir. I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

"I know, little brother. But Adar is right. I did not attend to my sword properly. I was still filthy and sore from training and could think only of a bath. If I had put it away as I should have, none of this would have happened."

"Hmm" was only the response

"What is done is done. Let us await the meal by playing draughts in my chambers. Perhaps I will allow you to win this time."

This brought a chuckle from the younger boy. "Perhaps I will allow you to win instead."