Okay, you know that story that I promised in my other fic, Remember, well, I am having some problems with it, and I fear that it might not get done. And if it does, it won't get done in a long time. Sorry, but don't get your hopes up. I'm sticking with one-shots for the moment.

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Tolkien.

Golden rays of sunlight shone through a large window in a small sparsely furnished chamber. The room was one of the many owned by the current Steward of Gondor, in the stone city of Minas Tirith. It was nearing the middle of fall, and the days had grown shorter. The sun set lazily, bathing the white towers in a reddening light.

None often visited this room, except for servants who came here clean. Even that was done quickly, for no person wished to break the reverent silence that encompassed this place. A silence that whispered of sorrow and bittersweet memories, memories that still stirred the heart of one particular man. A man that had built his life around these memories, constructing the foundations of his world, to only have them torn down by the cruel hand of fate.

Not many might even begin understand why such a simple little room could be so important to someone. And the only one to understand it completely was the man to whom it meant so much. But if you look a little closer, you might see something that could give some small hint…

If you look a little closer, you would notice a picture, hanging on the wall in the corner of the little chamber. In that picture, you would see many things:

If you look a little closer, you would see a woman, a slight smile on her face, with eyes bearing the happiness of a mother with her children.

If you look a little closer, you would see a man, standing tall and straight, looking with a gentle sternness down at his family.

If you look a little closer, you would see two brothers, the eldest with a hand clasped protectiveley on the younger child's shoulder, pride showing through, even at the tender age of eight. The younger brother gazes innocently out at the world, the curiosity so common to a three-year-old shown in his young, grey eyes.

The family was dressed in fine silks and fabrics, clearly displaying them to be of a noble birth. Young and rich, nothing, by looking at the picture, looked like it could hurt the family. They looked like they would be together forever, happy and prosperous. Such was the illusion of portraits.

If you look a little closer, you would see a window, where two little boys would gather around with their father to gaze at the stars at night. You would see a fireplace, where the children could cuddle lovingly with their mother. You would see a little desk, where the boys would halfheartedly be taught their letters.

If you look a little closer, you would see a family.

If you look a little closer, you would see that the family was gone.

How could so much have changed? How could this happy life have fallen apart? Gone were the mother, the father, and the eldest brother. Gone was the future, the hope of a life together. Remaining only was the youngest boy. Remaing only was Faramir of Gondor, and the weight of loss that he bore.

If you look a little closer, you would see the shards of a broken past, held in a small sparsely furnished chamber...

I cry for yesterday

For the memories that were made

That you won't ever get to hold

I cry for the new tomorrow

For the laughter, for the sorrow

That you can't cherish, as I grow old

I cry for yesterday

I shed a tear for yesterday

Because you weren't here for yesterday


I wrote this because I was very bored, and got one those little inspirations that I always get when I write a one-shot. The poem at the end is actually a song that I made up. I took out some of the verses, though, because I thought it was too long and I didn't want to drag it on.

I'm not sure if I wrote this that well, so please review and let me know. No flames, please.