A Rare Night
'What tale would you like?' the Steward asked his sons.
'Any,' Boromir said happily, but Faramir bounced in his bed. 'Can I bring you some of our favourite tales, so we could choose?'
Denethor nodded. 'Aye, you can, son.'
The lad shot out of the chamber. Denethor waited and waited, becoming somewhat impatient at the time it was taking…
There was a noise behind the door, and in came Faramir, an armful of books clutched to his chest and a triumphant grin shining on his face.
'Tis going to be one long bedtime story… the Steward thought, smiling to himself.