Drabbles by Nath

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"What is this I hear about not turning up for your Quenya lessons?"

Boromir squirmed under Denethor's gaze, then mumbled something he could not quite make out.

"Boromir, answer me."

"But Quenya is boring! And nobody speaks it anymore. Why should I have to learn something that's useless?"

"Useless?" Denethor stood up, maintaining his stern mien. "Then, when you are Steward, how will you read old records and reports of battles long ago?" He understood his son all too well, he feared. The boy was not dumb, but he had no patience for anything that was of no immediate use.

"Others can read them and tell me what is in there."

"How will you know they speak the truth?"

Boromir looked thoughtful, until his expression turned almost triumphant and he exclaimed, "But Faramir will be my chief councillor and he likes Quenya. He can read those old texts for me!"




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