Tea Between Faramirs’

   “It’s teatime, my lord.”

   Faramir, Prince of Ithilien and Steward of Gondor, looked up from the paper he had been going over. His namesake was standing across the desk from him, the top of his curly head barely showing over the top. Faramir glanced towards the door, wondering how the hobbit had managed to get in unnoticed. He smiled wryly to himself and stood up.

    Faramir Took held a loaded tea tray, staggering slightly under the weight of the load. The steward quickly came around his desk and took it from him, bowing to the tiny hobbit lad who looked so much like Pippin. The lad grinned back at him, and bowed shyly.

    “My mamma thought you’d like some tea, and Queen Arwen said that you had been working all day, so I brought you some food,” he said.

  Prince Faramir smiled and set the tray on the desk. “Thank you, Faramir,” he replied. “Would you care to join me?”

    Faramir Took nodded and the steward looked around for a suitable chair for him to sit on. Finding none, he lifted the lad up onto his desk with a muttered, “Don’t tell.” Young Faramir giggled and settled himself comfortably onto the gleaming, paper-strewn desk.

   “Don’t you think it’s strange that we have the exact same name?” he asked, helping himself to a cake.

    Prince Faramir grinned and poured the tea. “Aye, but it’s an honor.”

    “I know,” the Took replied. “You’re one of my heroes. You and my father. And the King. And Lady Eowyn. Oh, and King Eomer. I have lots of heroes, you know.”

  Prince Faramir laughed and helped himself to a sandwich. It was refreshing to have hobbits in the City again. They visited far too infrequently, just every few years, and this was the first time that he had met young Faramir. Pippin and his wife, Diamond, had come to Gondor on their wedding trip, and Pippin had written to them two years later to tell them of the birth of his son. Faramir had been terribly pleased to have the child named for him. Still, they had not seen the lad, and he had been born several years ago…

  “How old are you, Faramir?” the Prince asked, setting aside the sandwich in favor of the tea.

   “Eight years old, sir,” Faramir Took replied cheerfully. “How old are you?”

   Prince Faramir grinned. “As old as dirt.”

   “No, Legolas is as old as dirt,” the lad said. “He is old!”

   The steward laughed, and Faramir grinned. He liked Prince Faramir; he was a nice man, even though he was very, very tall.

    “Do you know any stories?” he asked eagerly.

    “I know some,” Prince Faramir said guardedly. Hobbits asking for tales could be dangerous, he had learned.

    Faramir Took grinned. “That’s good. I know stories. I learned some songs in Rohan, too, but Mamma says I shouldn’t sing them.”

  The steward laughed again, thinking of some of Eowyn’s songs. “Yes, they are not songs for young lads.”

   Faramir had taken a bite of cake, so he just nodded. They ate in silence for a few minutes, Prince Faramir marveling at the amount of food that the hobbit consumed. Between them, the tray was clean in a short time.

    “I guess you have to get back to work now,” Faramir Took said, gathering up the empty plates and teacups. “It was nice having tea with you, Prince Faramir.”

   “And with you, Lord Faramir,” Prince Faramir replied, rising with his little guest.

    Faramir giggled, then suddenly gave the steward a hug. Prince Faramir hugged him back, slightly surprised, then the hobbit pulled back.

    “See you at dinner!” he cried, jumping off the desk and taking the tray down. “Bye!”

    Faramir, Steward of Gondor, grinned to himself as he got back to work. Yes, it was definitely refreshing to have hobbits back in the City.