Characters and the world of Arda copyright Tolkien and all that, no money being made, utmost respect for his works.
This is what happens when I walk alone in the cold at night. Quite short, just a glimpse of reactive despair that may appear OOC -- though I have purposefully left out any external descriptions in a late night attempt to capture just a single moment. The task of Boromir's departure is, of course, Rivendell.
Warnings: Mild brotherslash.
Second Loved
Faramir plowed into his brother, shoving his arms out in an explosive movement and sending Boromir tumbling onto his stomach on the bed, his half packed things scattering at the collision. He let out a yelp of surprise -- he hadn't even heard his brother enter -- and twisted his body, his legs getting caught up in his long over tunic and slowing him enough that Faramir was able to tackle him before he could turn over.
Blind sided, Boromir lashed out with an elbow in a move of desperation, catching his younger brother squarely in the ribs. But despite Faramir's grunt of pain, the well landed blow seemed to have no effect. No, the young captain of Gondor was, it appeared, fighting blind: to pain and to reason.
"Faramir, hold! What has incensed you so?" Boromir pleaded as he would do with no other above a gasp of pain as his brother pushed him further back on the bed. In the tussle and chaos of thrashing limbs Boromir managed to flip onto his back just as Faramir grabbed at his jerkin, yanking the fabric below his throat. The thick shirt tore, separating the neatly tied knots into a mess of frayed string and cloth and exposing Boromir's chest. An instant later, Faramir swung at him, his fist connecting brutally with Boromir's jaw and sending the older man's head smartly to the side. Boromir felt the taste of sour copper flowing over his tongue and his face darkened.
"Faramir!" he shouted, attempting to grab his younger brother's wrists; this earned him a solid blow to the stomach which nearly sent all the breath from his body. With a snarl he reached out again, this time finding a firm hold on Faramir's soft leather sleeves and forcing his brother's wrists together to gain better control. "Brother, tell me!"
The young captain's eyes blazed as if behind a fire, Boromir swore he could see it, though the room was filled only with the dappling light of the young day. "It is always you!" Faramir spat, his mouth pulled back in a sneer as he struggled against Boromir's superior strength. The struggle had placed the brothers face to face on their knees; the mattress had begun to sag with so much weight concentrated in one place. Spare clothes were strewn amidst the sheets and tangled around their limbs, trailing onto the floor, maps were torn and fluttering loosely in the breeze that whispered past the open curtains.
The fire in Faramir's eyes seemed to freeze. "Never will he allow me the chance of valour, even if it is not renown I seek," he bit out, his throat constricting around the words as they threatened to choke him. He imagined he could feel their fingers around his neck. "He thinks my only use is to die for --" You... But he did not speak the last. He could not say it, though he would do it. He would, but not for any reason set to him by his father.
The hard edge receded from Boromir's eyes as he looked at Faramir. His brow creased as his gaze became pinpoints, and his voice was an unsteady roll of tide when he said, "Faramir, he loves you."
This set the young captain to struggling again and Boromir was forced to throw a shoulder into him, forcing him flat to the mattress lest he risk another hit from Faramir -- he may be stronger than his brother, but somehow Faramir had always been able to hit harder. He pushed Faramir onto his back, still holding his wrists together and trapping his younger brother's arms between their chests.
Boromir felt his heart shatter at the look on Faramir's face. Faramir, who had always come last in all things; who had never known his father's love as had the Steward's firstborn; who had never seen such care at all. "Our father --" Boromir said, but his voice broke and he was forced to swallow a lump in his throat as he suddenly felt he'd not had a drop of water for weeks. His tongue felt awkward in his mouth as he stared down at Faramir, who had stopped fighting and lay shaking beneath him, while his brother's eyes, windows now to some bursting dam, searched his face.
The sound of shifting papers was the only noise that cut through their heavy breathing, and Boromir did not hesitate as he tilted his head down and captured his brother's mouth in a tender, almost chaste kiss. His lips lingered, and when he drew back he thought he could see a tear in Faramir's eyes. He shifted just enough to release his hold on the young captain's arms, and brought one hand up to brush a lock of hair from Faramir's cheek. "I love you," he said, softly but with the force of a thousand strong army behind it, and the words fell as the clashing of so much armour as he drew Faramir into an embrace lasting until the sun began to fail and let the world slip away.