Denethor is not your father

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Chapter 4: Unwelcome Revelations[edit]

this page added by Liz elisabeth_larsen2@yahoo.com


The thing I have to tell you is...during your mother’s childhood, she and I were very close. Since we were far more isolated than normal children we had to turn to each other for affection.”

Faramir raised an eyebrow and leaned back. “The way that Boromir and I are close?”

Imrahil stared at him for a moment, an emotion Faramir couldn’t identify flickering through his eyes before the Prince looked down again. “I…don’t believe so, no. We were much closer. When your mother was betrothed to Denethor she had already fallen in love with someone else.”

Faramir closed his eyes against the emotional pain and dropped his head. “Political matches are never a good idea,” he said softly. “They always end in pain of some manner.” Then he looked up again and stared at his uncle. “Did she continue seeing him? Why are you telling me this now?”

Imrahil looked at him for a moment before glancing away. “I needed to tell you this before it is too late. Recently I lost a good friend and I was reminded of how uncertain life is in times of war. I need this off of my chest, Faramir. Indulge me?”

Faramir nodded for Imrahil to continue, his uncle doing so after a hesitation.

“She continued to see him well into her marriage, and after a time she conceived a child. It was not Denethor’s.”

Faramir stared at him. He had a half brother somewhere? “You took him in I assume. When was this, before Boromir was born? Surely my father found out.” Questions flooded his mind and he was suddenly sure that there was more to this than Imrahil was telling him. How could his father not have suspected? Did it not seem rather suspicious to people that she was with someone for so long?

“No; no it was later on after he was born and I did not take him in. It was not…” Imrahil shook his head. “It was very complicated. Denethor was not sure it was his, and he did not have the proof to denounce his wife of adultery. The timing was off, he could not be absolutely certain.”

Faramir sighed; “Then how can you be so sure it is not…wait. Then how?” A connection was growing between what Imrahil was saying and what Faramir had heard. “Where is the child now? If he could not say it was a bastard and it was after Boromir…” Faramir stopped, horrified. No.

Imrahil sighed and swallowed. “Aye,” he said gruffly. “There were only two children born from Finduilas’ womb. One was your brother; the other was you.”

Faramir sat down; which was rather a foolish move on his part considering there was no stool behind him and he hit the floor hard before rocking back and hitting his head on the stone wall. The wine which he had dropped in shock made a large puddle on the floor, but the Captain of Ithilien took no notice. “Me.” He said faintly, the dizziness from the head injury making the stunning news all the more difficult to accept.

Imrahil swiftly got up and crouched down beside the stunned young man. “Are you alright? Your head, it’s bleeding.”

Faramir blinked. So that’s what that sticky sensation was. “No I am not alright. I am someone’s bastard child. I…Boromir isn’t my brother?” The question wasn’t asked in the tone of a man filled with anger, but that of a lost boy who’s only loved one was being taken away.

“Of course he is!” Imrahil said sternly, pressing his hand to the cut on the man’s head. “He will never stop being your brother. Never believe that he would.”

“Denethor,” Faramir said distantly. That cut was not getting any better, by the feel of it. “He isn’t, he is not?”

Imrahil hesitated before pressing the hand even harder to his companion’s head. “No; not your father. Though he isn’t sure of that.”

“No wonder he doesn’t love me.” Faramir said. The wine was soaking into his breeches and he tried to get up before dizziness forced him to a sitting position again. “Do you know who my mother’s suitor was, Imrahil? You said he and she were close. Surely she told you.”

“I…the suitor, he…” Imrahil said desperately enough for Faramir to look up. The panic in Imrahil’s eyes made him worried. “You know who he is. Tell me; I deserve to know.”

Imrahil closed his eyes, ready to accept whatever fate Faramir would bestow upon him for his sins against the Valar. He had made his peace with his actions long ago and his son Elphir was now ruling in his stead. He could die if it was the price.

“The father of Finduilas’ child was me.”





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