A/N: written for Acacea's birthday.


There was a light, but insistent tap at the door.

'Enter,' Denethor said, his eyes on the parchment he was reading.

The tapping continued.

Mildly irritated, the Steward went to the heavy door and opened it, to see little Faramir grinning up at him.

The grin made him gasp. White teeth flashed at him from a mouth of dark purple colour. The chin was of the same dreadful shade…


That was Boromir's voice. He came running to his brother, slightly short of breath.

'Come, or Mother will be worried!'


The lad turned to Denethor with a look of impatience on his face. 'Yes, Father?'

'What is that?'

Boromir blinked. 'What?'

Denethor sighed. There was obviously nothing wrong with Faramir, judging by his grin and the lively manner in which he bounced off towards his father's desk. Still, Denethor's shock now gave way to curiosity.

'Why is your brother's mouth that colour?'

'Oh, that,' Boromir laughed. 'Well, Faramir came to my schoolroom, and he…'

His mouth suddenly fell open.

'Well?' Denethor urged. 'What did he do?'

The lad pointed towards the desk, speechless. Denethor turned…just in time to see Faramir downing a small bottle of ink.

'Just…that,' Boromir breathed.

A/N 2: No, I have no idea what ink tastes like:-D