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The Steward's Sons
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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Prologue

CURSE

Boromir discovered how much his little brother's arm had strengthened in his absence when Faramir's sword caught his knuckles. He swore, a dark, harsh word that grated in the throat.

Faramir froze.

"Come! You must pursue your advantage!"

"Where did you hear that?"

"A man of my company." Boromir shrugged. "Why? You know soldiers' oaths."

"Boromir, it is Orkish!"

Boromir frowned. "You read too much." He would have turned away but a stern gaze too like another held him.

"Boromir."

What chance had new bravado before his brother's frank revulsion?

"And I am glad of it. Come at me again!"

~*~

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