Authors Notes: I wanted to write a story that showed Denethor in a more sympathetic light. In the books he has more redeeming features that didn’t really come across in the film.

“It once belonged to a young boy of the city. A very foolish one who wasted many hours slaying dragons instead of attending to his studies.” (ROTK EE).

The hero crept carefully up the stone passage keeping close to the wall, listening carefully for a sound or any sign of his prey. He could already smell the sulphurous fumes but that did not necessarily mean the dragon was in his lair. After hundreds of years the beast’s resting place bore the stench of dragon’s breath that no amount of wind or rain could cleanse.

He froze as he heard a long drawn out hiss. The creature it seemed was home and asleep.

He paused and thought out his strategy. His brother had told him the tale of a dragon tricked out of some of his treasure by a small thief. The thief, said his brother had a magic ring which made him invisible. He had been disinclined to believe the tale but his brother swore it was true, told to him by a captain of the guard, who had left the city some years ago.

A magic ring would be very useful, he reflected. All he had to defend himself was his sword and shield. He decided that there was no way he could sneak up on the dragon and that he would rush in and slay the beast before it had time to wake up properly. Taking a deep breath he ran into the dragon’s lair sword poised ready to strike.

The ‘dragon’ wagged his tail and ambled over to lick his hand.

“Dagnir! You are supposed to be a fierce dragon” he complained but he patted the dog on the head anyway. A chuckle from behind him alerted him to the fact he was not alone.

He whirled round, eyes wide with alarm,

“Father!” Faramir stammered.

Denethor had seen his younger son creeping along the corridor and intrigued had followed to find out what he was doing. The steward was in an unusually indulgent mood and today was amused rather than angry as was so often the case.

“And what are you doing here, away from your studies my son?” he asked raising a quizzical eyebrow.

“The tutor gave me a poem to learn but I already knew it” Faramir confessed, emboldened both by the smile on his father’s face and the mild tone of voice.

“So you sought out dragons instead” Denethor stated, pleased that the boy did not seem nervous for once.

“Yes sir” Faramir answered smiling back.

“Recite me your poem then” Denethor instructed, sitting down and scratching the large hunting dog’s head.

Taking a deep breath Faramir rattled off the poem, it was one of his favourites and he knew it off by heart. Denethor nodded, satisfied at his son’s word perfect rendition.

“Now return to your studies boy, leave your dragons for another day.” He said clapping his son on the shoulder.

Faramir bowed very properly and left still grinning.

The next week was Faramir’s eleventh birthday, his father had been called away the previous night but the tutor told him his father had left a gift for the boy.

On his bed Faramir found the livery of the city guard specially made to fit him. There was also a note, written in his father’s distinctive and neat hand.

“My son, You are fast approaching the age when you must put aside foolish thoughts of dragons and prepare to be trained as a soldier, a course already embarked upon by your elder brother. We shall have need of brave captains in the years to come. Learn from your brother’s good example but do not neglect your other studies as befits a man of your station. I shall see you on my return.”