Disclaimer: These are not my characters, my setting or my world; all belong to Professor Tolkien and his estate.

A/N: Many thanks to the-mighty-pen325 for beta reading!

It was a thoroughly miserable day outside, and it suited Faramir's mood perfectly. He sat as far back in the deep window seat as possible, with his too long legs drawn up in front of him, too skinny arms wrapped about them as he looked out at the rain.

Boromir hadn't been deterred by the rain, and Faramir would see him along with the other, older boys on the training grounds, sparring with practice swords and seeming to be having a grand time despite the rain. Well, enough for them! How many of them had grown three inches in the span of six months without gaining the muscles needed to coordinate the longer limbs? They didn't have to constantly wonder if they would be able to speak when they opened their mouth rather than merely croak or squeak. He had been looking forward to the summer months, for the heat would have provided a perfect excuse to remain indoors and he would have been able to hide in the libraries without too many questions being asked, and have been spared embarrassment for at least a while.

Then his father had decided that since tradition dictated that Boromir be sent to spend time with their allies in the Riddermark once he turned 18 the hot months would be the perfect time for him to travel to the cooler climes of the north. Faramir had been dismayed at the thought of six weeks without his brother, but then it was further decided that Faramir would travel with him rather than go on his own when he had turned 18.

Not only had he been deprived of his longed for refuge but now he had to spend a month among strangers who spoke a language he did not know and had very different customs from those of Gondor. At least Boromir had found a friend in Theodred, but there were few boys his age in Meduseld, and few books, too. It simply wasn't fair.

The feast that had been held in their honor two nights ago had been a disaster. There was, of course, dancing, and as a guest of honor he had been expected to participate. He did not know the steps to the dance, and that combined with his lack of coordination and too large feet had set his partner giggling, and he had seen how the other girls in the hall had been grinning and laughing as well. It was simply too much, surely everyone could understand that, and he had spent the rest of the evening in the darkest corner he could find, nursing his tankard of well watered ale until he could make his exit.

Being twelve years old was completely miserable.

Boromir had assured him that it was only a phase, and would pass soon enough, but it wasn't passing nearly soon enough for Faramir's liking. Sighing, he turned his head to rest his forehead on his bony knees, and he didn't look up when he heard footsteps approaching, and the voices of two men in conversation. He hoped they would keep on going and leave him in peace, but of course they stopped at a table very near his refuge, and he heard a small thud, that of wood being placed on wood, followed by many soft clicks, as if stone was now being placed on the wood.

Curious, he turned his head enough to watch, then lifted it when he recognized that the men were setting up to play chess! He had studied books in the library for hours, and had a sound understanding of the rules and tactics of the game, but rarely found anyone who was willing to actually play with him. And those that would play were of little to no help with helping him learn how to know which of the tactics he had studied should be put into action on the board. He found himself watching as the men started to play, naming the various attacks and defensive moves to himself as the game progressed.

Eventually the man sitting facing him, a young man he remembered as being a fellow visitor to Edoras, along with his wife and young son, won the game. He didn't remember the man's name, but remembered that both he and his wife had seemed kind. Their son was a bit of a terror, and Faramir had seen him reprimanded several times during the rainy morning for jumping out at the servants while brandishing his prized wooden sword. Apparently it was a recent birthday gift from his father, and the child now firmly believed that he was a Rider, sworn to protect lord and land.

The man said a few words to his opponent, who shrugged and then nodded, and they set up the pieces again.

By the time the second game was played, and won by the same man, Faramir had turned fully, and was sitting on the edge of the window seat, his excitement for the game having overridden his fears. The older man who had played with his back to Faramir stood, and laughed as he shook his head, clearly unwilling to try a third time. Faramir suddenly found himself looking into the eyes of the younger man, who remained seated at the table.

He lifted his eyebrows and spoke to Faramir in clear Westron. "I seem to have lost my partner, and the day is too miserable for other pursuits." He paused for a moment, tilting his head slightly to one side as if considering, then a small flicker of challenge showed in his eyes. "I don't suppose you play?"

Faramir grinned, and nodded eagerly. "I do! At least…" His voice cracked with his excitement, and he flushed deeply, but the man just smiled more widely and beckoned the boy over with one hand before turning his attention to setting the pieces on the board.

"Join me then, young man! I can see that you are interested in the game, but perhaps you haven't played all that much?" He grinned, and Faramir couldn't help returning it as he nodded. "I was the same at your age; I wanted to learn but the old men had not the patience to teach me." He laughed, and Faramir did as well, softly. "I am not yet so old that I am not willing to help one who wants to learn."

Faramir slipped from the window seat and into the vacant chair, and reached out to start setting up his own pieces. It turned out the man was an excellent teacher, and the pair spent an enjoyable afternoon not only playing the game but talking about when to best apply the stratagems that Faramir had read of. Others had started to file into the room, and servants were setting the longer table for the evening meal as they talked, but it wasn't until there was the sound of running feet and a small clear voice calling "Dada! Dada!" that they were distracted from the board.

The man looked towards the voice and laughed, opening his arms wide for the young boy who was running wildly towards him. He caught his son up in a bear hug, lifting him well clear of the ground before shifting to hold him in one arm while making a final move, saying "Check mate."

He winked, then chuckled at Faramir's surprised and crestfallen expression, but his eyes were kind. "You have come far in the course of but a few games, Faramir! If you like, I would be happy to play again sometime, for I have enjoyed teaching you. For now, though, I am afraid I have to get this son of mine ready for dinner!"

Here he tickled the boy in his arm, sending him into peals of laughter that rang through the hall and drew the attention and smiles of many around them. With another kind smile for Faramir he started towards the guest rooms, flipping his son over so that the toddler now dangled upside down from one arm, bring on a fresh round of playful screams and giggles as they exited the hall.

They did indeed play again on several more occasions, and the man and boy quickly formed a friendship despite the difference in their ages. Faramir was even invited to spend any rainy evenings in the chambers the young family shared, and Faramir was surprised to find that his friend's son seemed to enjoy climbing into his lap from time to time, and once even fell asleep there. He never felt entirely at ease around the child's mother, despite her warm smile and kindness, for she was clearly with child and Faramir was unused to spending much time around women at all, let alone one in that condition.

One evening they sat on the floor as they played, with the board on a low table and his friend seated at his wife's feet while she sewed. Faramir couldn't help but notice how his arm was draped casually across her knees, and that he often looked up to smile at her between moves. The affection between them was obvious, and while it made Faramir vaguely uncomfortable it also made him wonder what it would be like to have someone to care for that way, and who cared for you in return.

Suddenly she pressed a hand to her belly with a small gasp, then smiled at her husband to answer his concerned look. "The baby is kicking."

He smiled in return, and reached up to cover her hand with his own. After a moment the smile became a wide grin. "And strongly!" He laughed, and spoke teasingly, "Surely it will be another fine son, who will be a great rider like his father and big brother."

Now she laughed, "Bema help me if it is! I'm hoping for a nice quiet girl this time." But her smile made it clear that she teased in return.

Faramir shifted slightly, uncomfortable being a witness to such a moment, and found himself the focus of both of the young parents. She glanced at her husband, caught his barely discernible nod, and leaned over to take Faramir's hand as he reached out to make his next move, and before he could react he found his hand also pressed to her belly. He didn't dare try to pull his hand free, for fear of hurting her or the child, so he simply froze in place. Then he felt two distinct thumps under his palm, and looked up at her with wonder.

She laughed, "Oh, she seems to like you, Faramir!" He blushed a bright red and awkwardly pulled his hand away, turning his focus on the chess pieces once more to hide his embarrassment.

Her attention turned back to her husband as she moved her hand in soothing circles, and she smiled warmly to her husband. "Yes, I think I would like a daughter this time. One who will listen to me, and sit quietly and sew with me rather than driving me mad with wild antics as Eomer does…"