For Altariel, who wanted a functional relationship between Denethor and Faramir.
All Gondor lies before him, black and red, smelling of yellowed age.
"Tell me all of them!" the boy demands, imperiously. Behind him, his father laughs, and ink-stained fingers trace the line:
Cair Andros. Henneth Annûn. Osgiliath. Minas Tirith. Pelargir. Dol Amroth. Anduin that runs throughout, past Tol Brandir to the sea.
"And that one?" the boy asks, pointing to the tower in the mountains. Silence, ere his father answers:
"The enemy took it long ago."
"I shall get it back!" Faramir declares.
The arms about him tighten, draw him back into a proud embrace. "One day, Faramir. One day...."