Author's note: It has always been said that between the brothers there was great love, and that Boromir was the protector of Faramir. Well, I think that the two brothers sought to keep each other safe, but just how far would one brother go to protect the other.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.
It has been noticed that my tales contains the occasional spelling error, or not so occasional at times. I am sorry about these, and I do try to avoid them. I simply am a perpetual spelling disaster. Please take no offence. Besides, it can be considered an act of kindness to support your local spelling disaster.
Two Colour Chainmail
Sam was cooking the evening meal, and everyone was preparing for the night. Firewood had been collected, bedrolls had been laid out, and a watchorder had been set.
Legolas was responsible for most of it as it had been explained that elves needed less sleep.
Gandalf had made himself comfortable with his lit pipe, and Gimli was as usual doing his best to annoy Legolas. It seemed the dwarf liked nothing better than to irritate the elf. However in a way that was partially friendly.
Frodo was sitting quietly near Sam and seemed to be content with his silent presence. Merry and Pippin was talking quietly amongst themselves about something that had them giggling.
Boromir had pulled off his surcoat. He was not going to sleep in his chainmail just yet. Not if he did not absolutely have to. It was a vastly exaggerated thing to do as it was extremely uncomfortable.
"That's funny." Pippin piped up. "Why's it looking like that?"
"What is looking like what?" He asked the hobbit.
"That chainmail you are wearing, why is it looking all funny." Pippin looked closer.
"Because it is made of very many small metal rings." He grinned. "You see, if you fit the rings together just right, you get a sort of shirt out of them."
"We know that." Merry stated. "But yours look different."
"Why is it made of two colours?" Pippin asked.
"There are those patches of another colour." Merry pointes at one such patch.
The rings there was slightly darker. The rest was a shining silvery metal. There were two or three such patches.
Boromir looked down. "I believe you are right." He stated. "If you had not told me I would never have known."
"Why is it like that." Pippin demanded.
"Well, you see. People in battle have an rather annoying habit of trying to hack holes in my armour. When that happens I have to repair the mail."
"Why use different rings?" Merry asked curious.
"When you are out on the field you do not always have the same sort at hand." Aragorn supplied. "Though most of higher ranks would have had them replaced again."
Boromir nodded. "I chose not to it this time. I wanted a remainder of that battle, that a officer must always make sure his soldiers equipment are in good shape."
"I do not believe you forgot that." Aragorn stated.
"No, but I forgot that some soldiers will go too far to keep their commander safe. These rings was put there by a soldier who claimed he knew the art. Only he took them from his own mail, and so as it was useless, he was injured."
"What soldier would do something like that?" Pippin asked. "Sounds rather stupid to me."
Boromir gave him a sad smile. "My own brother did that. He sees it as his duty to keep the heir safe, even at the cost of his own safety. He once swore an oath to always protect the heir, and so he does. I forgot to make sure he had not put himself at risk, and that time he had."
They brought his little brother to him, cradled in the arms of a big soldier.
"My Lord, he was found stricken on the field." They said. Transferring the pale form into Boromir's arms. By his hitched breathing and the way he clenched his eyes and lips tightly shut against the pain. Boromir knew he was still conscious.
Faramir wore a leather armour and mail as he was not of a strong enough build for the heavier full plate armour. He had one, and wore it at times, but it took to much of his strength to bear that weight.
Blood seeped out of a large gash in the leather. Even as Boromir cradled him close and carried him to the tent that had been erected for him.
Faramir groaned as he was jostled, no matter how careful Boromir sought to be. He laid his little brother down on the heap of furs and blankets that made the bed. Cutting away the remaining leather, less painful than lacing it off as it should be done.
Next he made to remove the chain mail, he would have removed it, had his brother worn any. The absence of chain mail was very evident. Had he worn it the deep cut in his side would barely have scratched the mail, now it had laid his entire side open.
Boromir uttered a very loud curse. Faramir was in so much pain he was not entirely aware of what his brother was doing as he cut away the remaining layers of clothes from his flesh. Bloodsoaked tunics and shirts were thrown aside as Boromir examined the wound closer. He could deal with it well enough.
Stop the bleeding, clean it and stitch it close. His brother was not going to like any of it.
Well, he did not like the fact that he had neglected to wear his mail, so that was that.
Boromir felt no greater regret for that part of it. He was very concerned for his brother, as always he worried about him, and he wished he would not have to feel the pain, but this time Faramir had been his own bane.
"Boromir." Faramir had managed to get his eyes open and now took in his brother.
"Yes, little one, I am here. I shall take care of you." Boromir gently stroked the hair away from his brow. This was not the right time to go into the missing mail.
The bleeding had stopped, and he had sent for hot water to be brought.
"I am sorry brother." Faramir whispered quietly.
"Be hush now little brother. I shall have to take care of your wound, and you shall need your strength for that." The water arrived and he took a clean cloth to wash the blood away. At least it was a clean simple wound. The thrust had not dug into his ribs, merely laid them open.
Faramir gasped in pain.
"I'm sorry." He whispered again.
Boromir laid down the cloth, he had to calm his brother it appeared.
"Little one, I would care of you now, will you please remain calm for me." He gently stroked his hair in a soothing motion.
"I would brother, but I failed you again. And so I have placed this burden upon you." All the tears in his eyes was not from the pain.
"A dear little fool you are at times. But a burden to me you have never been." Boromir soothed him. "Shall you let me care for you now? For I need to stitch that close, and it would be better for you the sooner it is done." He stroked a pale and sweatcovered cheek gently. "I shall be as gentle with you as I can little one, but you shall still have to bear the pain."
"I know." Faramir took his hand in a weak grip. "I shall pray that at least in this I can make you proud."
"Always am I proud of you." With a kiss to his brow Boromir finished the cleansing of the wound and stitched it closed.
"Boromir." Faramir whispered when Boromir was putting the needle away. "Are you wrought with me?"
"A little yes." He said slowly. "Why were you not wearing your mail? It would have stopped that blow."
"I have sworn to always putting your well-being first." Came the weak reply.
"That does not make sense little one." Boromir objected. "I am no safer because you are neglecting to wear your mail."
"You are when the rings needed to mend yours comes from mine." Faramir closed his eyes for he knew the ire of his brother.
"Faramir, you little idiot." Boromir burst out. "You could have been killed. How do you suppose I would feel if I lost you because you were fool enough to take apart your mail only to mend mine."
"I swore to father." Faramir said quietly. "And what if I lost you brother, when I knew I could have kept you safe. I would not be able to continue without you."
Boromir recognized the truth in his words. They loved each other dearly, and both sought to keep the other safe.
"Easy little brother, I am not truly wrought with you, not more so than with myself. Only please, swear to me you shall do nothing such as this again."
Again he knelt to stroke his brother's hair lovingly.
"We are both fools at times little one. Now please swear you shall do nothing such as this again. And I shall swear to do my best to never put you in a place were you would."
"I swear brother, for I would not be the one to hurt you. I had hoped I should have managed without getting in trouble."
"Somehow, one is never able to." Boromir sighed ruefully.
"So Pippin, does it still look odd?" He asked after the tale.
"It does, it is still the wrong colour completely." The young hobbit smiled.
"It is, but I'm rather used to it by now." Boromir stroked a hand over one patch. "One has to admit that if nothing else the little runt is a skilled craftsman. It has not given to wear yet. I had no idea he was so good at it."
"Soldiers tend to learn." Aragorn noted. "I have yet to meet an archer that does not know how to fletch an arrow. Nor a swordmaster that does not know how to tend to his sword."
"All true." Boromir nodded. "And all useful skills. I regret that I am no more apt at it than I am. For I fear I would not be able to repair my own mail."
"Sometimes our duties prevents us." Aragorn shrugged. "Your brother seems one that looks out for you and that is well."
"Did he get a new mail?" Pippin asked eagerly. "Would be rather bad if he did not."
"He did." Boromir chuckled. "I gave the order for it myself. And made sure we carried more supplied with us for repair after that. I believe we have never been short on supplies since."
"That's something good from it all then ." Pippin smiled happily.
The End
Here I would like to thank everyone who left a review on my tale "A Conversation About Brothers" thank you.
Here it must also be said that in that tale we noted that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got agreement on that.
So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.
Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.