by Feana Puddlefoot.
Disclaimer follows as normal. I do not own Faramir, Boromir or Denethor.
NOTES: I felt like writing a small Boromir and Faramir friendship fic,
but I wanted it to be lighthearted. And what is more lighthearted than
The Talk? Don't answer that. Faramir rather worships Boromir here and his
father on a lesser scale here, which is either cute or just plain annoying,
depending on how you look at it.
It was time.
Denethor gritted his teeth, clenched his fists and approached his two children, who were snuggled up together, reading something. Such innocence, Denethor thought. And I'm going to spoil that. The thought filled him with immense joy. He'd never liked innocence and there was far too much of it in that younger kid of his. Denethor cleared his throat.
"Boromir, and ... erm.. I'm sorry, what's your name again?" Denethor scrutinized the child cuddling Boromir, trying to think where he'd seen him before. He definetly looked familiar
The smaller child lifted his head from Boromir's shoulder and gave Denethor a look of adoration. "I'm Faramir. Don't you remember me?"
Recognition dawned on Denethor. "Oh, it's you, you little worm. My, how you've grown. Well, I'm here to give you and your brother The Talk™."
Boromir immediatedly thought, that's the first time I've ever heard capital letters, and nodded obediantly at his father, being rewarded with a proud smile. Faramir turned his eyes to Boromir and was simply proud that someone was proud of Boromir.
Denethor sat down next to Boromir, patting him on the shoulder companionbly, and began: "When a man and a woman love eachother very very much and are of reasonable age and their parents approve of the relationship and their homelands are friendly towards eachother and they're of compatible species, they want to show this love for eachother. Understand?"
Boromir nodded and Faramir nestled closer to Boromir and copied his brother's nod exactly.
Denethor continued, "Also, they may want to create children. Like you, Boromir." he gave his oldest son a beaming smile, then noticed Faramir, half sprawled across Boromir's torso and sighed. "And you, Faramir." Faramir was thrilled to be noticed by his father and gave a little squeak.
"Do they write poetry for eachother?" Faramir asked meekly.
Denethor looked at him in exasperation. "Also poetry! Poetry, poetry, poetry! What is with you and poetry? Get your mind off the stupid poetry, boy, and listen to me!" he paused, then added in second thought, "And your brother."
Faramir seemed to shrink in size and cowered behind Boromir, clutching at strands of Boromir's hair.
"Now," Denethor went on. "The technique that the man and the woman use to show their love and create children is rather interesting, and it may seem a little odd to you at first but as you grow up you will like the idea of it. And then you will do it, and you will like that too. See?"
Both boys shook their head in utter confusion.
"Well, you will see, in time," Denethor said simply.
Boromir furrowed his eyebrows and didn't notice Faramir copying the movement. "What about if the man doesn't love the woman but wants children?"
Denethor thought about it for a few moments, then answered with some certainty. "If the woman agrees to it, he is free to create a child with her."
Faramir sat up at this. However, he hadn't released his grip on Boromir's hair and Boromir yelped. Denethor gave Faramir a disaproving look and Faramir bit his lip and apologetically stroked Boromir's hair, causing Boromir to narrow his eyes. Then he said, "Isn't love important though? Everyone says love is really, really wonderful."
"Where on Middle-Earth do they say that then?" Denethor asked, puzzled. "Are you making things up again, boy?"
Faramir shook his head in earnest. "No, I read it in some poems."
Denethor gave a low, gutterly growl, and Faramir hunched his shoulders and went back to hiding behind Boromir. Denethor shot him a few murderous looks then turned to Boromir. "Do you understand, son?"
Boromir was looking completely bemused. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
Faramir copied Boromir's bemused look then whispered to his brother, shooting a cautious look at his father, "I think I may have read about what Father is talking about in some poems, Boromir. Do you want to see them?"
Denethor closed his eyes in despair. It was going to be a long,
long night.