"No, no," Faramir said, pushing the mug away. "I don't like that."

"You don't like tea?" I was surprised; he had never protested the drink before. "Since when?"

"No, I don't like Bo'mir's tea," Faramir replied.

I looked at him a moment, trying to decipher what he meant. He was still too young for proper tea, so it was just a few tablespoons of tea in a mug with milk and cinnamon and honey. "But that is yours, not Boromir's," I pointed out. "I made it for you."

"No, it's Bo'mir's," he insisted. "Sticky – don't like sticky tea."

"Sticky?" I frowned, then had a thought. "You mean you do not like the honey? Is it too sweet?" I'd always made his tea exactly as I had Boromir's, out of nothing more than habit, but apparently Faramir did not share his brother's sweet tooth.

"Too sweet!" Faramir made a face. "I like milk and the cimmanon."

I laughed, picking up the rejected mug and dumping the contents in the fire. "All right – would you like just a little bit of honey?"

"Just a little bit," Faramir agreed. "Please and thank you?"

I remade his tea, amused, as he watched me carefully. I handed him the mug; he sipped at it gingerly, and grinned. "I like that, Nanny."

"I will remember it, little one," I smiled. Faramir had been drinking his tea like Boromir's for some months, but he'd only recently started talking – no wonder I had not known that he did not like it that way. I reminded myself to ask about such things in the future; just because they were brothers did not mean they would always have the same tastes.