Summary: see title.
"Be ever mindful," his father would say. "The Enemy's snares are many."
"Be patient," his mother had said. "Haste so often ends badly."
"Be strong," advised his brother, who was entirely too young to counsel but cared not where Faramir was concerned. "War is coming."
The old man looked upon the anxious, frowning boy with his books and his head full of stories and heart full of cares, and a pair of shoulders that would some sad day stiffen and broaden under years and toil under a sword's edge, and he laughed.
"Lad," Mithrandir said kindly, "it does you no harm to listen to your elders, for 'tis all well-said, and right. But you shan't hear it rightly, unless you learn to listen well – there is a trick to it, you see." Leaning on his staff, he hunched down, and looked the seven year-old straight from eye to eye.
"Be fearless," he said. "See to that" – a gnarled pair of fingers against a skinny breastbone, right over the boy's heart – "and the rest will come, and you'll laugh the better, too, and more often."
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.