This type of fanfic has been done before, but I wanted to write a Lord of the Rings fanfic and this idea was the one that really appealed to me. Because it is an AU, I will alter the timeline slightly to fit events in easier. There will be obvious changes throughout such as the breaking of the Fellowship, how Faramir meets Éowyn and Frodo and Sam being captured by the Rangers.
I hope you all enjoy it, and as always feedback is very welcome.
Once again, thank you to my marvellous beta kingstqrk.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All characters/locations etc. belong to the Tolkein estate and New Line Cinema.
Thousands looked upon Gondor's favourite son as he stood high upon the towers of Osgiliath, the white tree banner in hand. People had journeyed from all over Gondor to celebrate the re-taking of the city from the forces of Mordor. It was well known that it would likely be a temporary victory only, but there was still cause for mass celebration, Gondor had seen very few happy says since Minas Ithil fell to darkness over a hundred years ago. Soldiers, nobles and common folk alike lined the streets, desperate to see their victorious captain and celebrate his triumph with him.
"Boromir!" The crowd repeatedly chanted as the Steward's son stood tall.
Among those in the crowd were the Rangers of Ithilien, who played key parts in the battle themselves. Their captain, Faramir, looked on with pride as his elder brother drew his sword and began speaking to the people of Gondor.
"This city was once the jewel of our kingdom! A place of light, and beauty, and music, and so it shall be once more!" The crowd cheered as he spoke, revelling in their victory, that their precious city was rescued from darkness.
"Let the armies of Mordor know this: Never again will the land of my people fall into enemy hands! The city of Osgiliath has been reclaimed, for Gondor! For Gondor! For Gondor!"
He looks like the Steward already, Faramir thought as the crowd replied to the chants of his brother. And one day he will make a great one. There was no bitterness whenever Faramir heard of thought of the great deeds of his brother. Boromir had always been the soldier, the fighter, where Faramir had been more of a scholar and Faramir had always been content with that. After all, how could he ever feel bitterness towards his brother, who had always protected him and defended him against anyone who had anything less than pleasant to say.
Faramir noted that Boromir had begun to descend from the tower and moved towards him, brushing people aside as he rushed forward to greet his brother. Laughing and smiling for the first time in a while, the brothers embraced.
"Good speech, nice and short," Faramir said, with a hint of light sarcasm in his voice. The speech summed Boromir up rather well: loud, strong and passionate about his people/
"Leaves more time for drinking," Boromir replied, and both men broke out in laughter once more. "Break out the ale! These men are thirsty!"
Boromir left and returned a few minutes later with two goblets of ale. Handing one of the jugs to Faramir, they toasted to Boromir's words.
"Remember today, little brother. Today, life is good." Faramir smiled at his words and took in the good feeling around the city, but his smile died as he saw someone approaching, and Boromir noticed. "What?"
"He's here."
Boromir didn't need to ask who he was, and sure enough the voice of Lord Denethor could be heard approaching, congratulating the men as he came closer.
"One moment of peace, can he not give us that?" Boromir sighed.
"Where is he? Where is Gondor's finest? Where is my first-born?" Boromir turned towards Denethor and placed a grin on his face, holding his arms out to embrace his father.
"Father!"
Pride was written all over Denethor's face as he embraced his oldest son, Faramir forgotten, left to watch them.
"They say you vanquished the enemy almost single-handed."
"They exaggerate. The victory belongs to Faramir also." Boromir spoke the truth, not just stating something to try and make his father proud of Faramir. He had been with him as they held the bridge until it was destroyed, an act which could have easily led to either of them drowning.
Faramir stepped forward, hopeful of forthcoming praise for playing his part in re-taking the city, but Denethor's expression had changed from pride to disdain at the mention of his younger son's name.
"But for Faramir this city would still be standing." Boromir froze at his father's words and his head dropped, bothered at his father's attitude, and Faramir's face fell once more. "Were you not entrusted to protect it?"
"I would have done but our numbers were too few, Faramir defended, but Denethor dismissed him without a thought.
"Oh, too few? You let the enemy walk in and take it on a whim." The words hurt Faramir slightly, as that was not what happened. He would gladly give his own life to protect Gondor, but he had his men to think about too. Sacrificing the city to save his men seemed like an obvious choice to Faramir, one that Denethor clearly disagreed with.
"Always you cast a poor reflection on me." Denethor's words cut through Faramir like a sharp knife.
"That is not my intent."
As usual, Boromir spoke up in defence of his brother. He had always tried to shield him from any hurt, including the words of their father.
"You give him no credit and yet he tries to do your will."
Boromir stormed off, angry with his father for treating Faramir with such scorn and Denethor followed him, needing to speak to him of something of great importance. Faramir also followed, standing outside the ruin they had entered to talk. It wasn't in Faramir's nature to eavesdrop, but he found he could help himself as he heard Boromir speak up.
"He loves you, father."
"Do not trouble me with Faramir. I know his uses and they are few."
Once more Denethor had managed to harm Faramir greatly with only words. They hurt him more than he would care to admit, and small tears formed in the corners of his eyes, but they were gone seconds later. Men don't cry over words, a voice in his head said to him. The voice sounded remarkably akin to that of his father.
Faramir could not see, but Boromir had opened his mouth, ready to jump to Faramir's defence again but Denethor cut him off.
"We have more urgent things to speak of." But Faramir had heard enough. He walked away from where he was stood and found a place to wait for them both to come out.
Several men clapped him on the back as they passed him, congratulating him on the part he played in the victory, but his mind was elsewhere, wishing for praise from the one person who never gave him any.
Every boy wanted their father to be proud of them, and Faramir was no different. He always clung to the hope that Denethor would recognise his qualities, but that day was yet to come. Denethor clearly lamented Faramir's more gentle side, the side that hated war and fighting. In his father's eyes, men were only worthy if they craved battle and showed no sign of weakness, and to him, compassion was a weakness.
Boromir had always been his protector. As long as he could remember, if Faramir was ever hurt, the first person to help him was his older brother. He was always there to assure him that he was important, that he was not a disappointment. But because of Boromir's protective nature, Faramir had often begun to wonder whether the words of praise his brother spoke to him were true, or just to shield him from further hurts and keep his confidence up.
Boromir was not the only person who thought highly of Faramir. Though Mithrandir's visits became less frequent over time, he always sought Faramir out whenever he visited the White City, eager to see how his young friend had been. It did fill Faramir with pride to know that someone as wise as Mithrandir thought highly of him, and even now in his thirties, he would always be excited at the thoughts of his visits.
Imrahil was another who would always assure Faramir of his worth. Like with Boromir, Faramir often worried that Imrahil's praise was down to the bias of family, but his uncle had always shown more interest in his progression that his father had. It was also with Imrahil that Faramir had the most discussions about his mother.
Boromir was ten when she died and so remembered her far better than Faramir did, but he was still too young to truly know her. And to mention his mother in his father's presence was a mistake that Faramir learned not to make early on. His uncle, however, always had time to talk about her and would often end by telling Faramir that she would be proud of him. Thinking that his mother would be proud of how he was reassured Faramir that he was doing something right, and it often brought a smile to his face.
Thoughts of his mother were interrupted as Boromir came storming around the corner, clearly agitated by his discussion with their father.
"My place is here with my people, not in Rivendell!"
"Would you deny your own father?"
Faramir stepped forward then, trying to help resolve the situation after seeing the anger on both his brother and his father's faces.
"If there is need to go to Rivendell, send me in his stead."
His mind went back a few weeks to the dream he had, telling him to go to Imladris to seek for the Sword that was Broken. He had dreamed the same dream twice, but his father dismissed it as a weakness on his behalf. It was not until Boromir revealed that he had had the same dream that their father took note. Denethor had revealed that Imladris was an Elvish name for Rivendell, home to the Elf-Lord, Elrond. Faramir felt the dreams were telling him to go, but as Denethor originally dismissed it as folly, he had held his tongue, until now.
The dream came to him again once more last night, and clearly his father felt that it was necessary to go to Rivendell. Faramir had no idea what his dreams were telling him, but he felt sure that once he arrived at Rivendell, the wisdom of Lord Elrond would help him decipher it.
"You?" Denethor replied, and then let out a small, barely detectable laugh, and once more Faramir shattered on the inside. "Oh, I see. A chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor to show his quality? I think not. I trust this mission only to your brother. The one who will not fail me."
I will never be able to please him, Faramir thought as Denethor walked off, sparing no glance for either son.
Boromir watched as his father began to make his way back to Minas Tirith. He turned around to face his brother but as he opened his mouth, realised that Faramir too had gone.
Boromir fought with the fury of a hundred men as he fought off the orcs surrounding him. He was no longer fighting for himself, but for the halflings, trying to keep them from harm.
One arrow, two arrows pierced his front, but he continued to fight, throwing all his might into his sword. But the third arrow struck him, and he fell to his knees. The halflings were taken and Boromir was left alone.
He looked into the eyes of the one who shot him down, ready for the final strike, but it never came. Boromir fell to his back as his saviour battled the orc.
But it was not enough. He was dying, and he knew it.
The man survived his skirmish with the orc and approached Boromir, whose voice was ridden with pain as he spoke.
"They took the little ones."
"Keep still," the man replied, trying to stop the flow of blood but Boromir looked ill at ease, needing answers.
"Frodo, where is Frodo?"
"I let Frodo go."
"Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the ring from him."
"The ring is beyond our reach now."
Boromir's breaths were coming in short gasp, but he continued talking.
"Forgive me, I did not see. I have failed you all."
"You fought bravely. You have kept your honour." The man continued to try to fix Boromir's wounds, but he shook his head.
"Leave it! It is over. The world of men will fall, and all will come to darkness. And my city to ruin." Boromir looked pained at his own words, at the thought of those he loved and cared about perishing, but in his heart, he knew it to be true. The man shook his head and replied.
"I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you I will not let the White City fall, nor our people fail."
"Our people… our people…" Boromir tried to grab his sword from his side but didn't have the strength to reach it. The man placed it in his hand and Boromir continued talking, voice full of sincerity. "I would have followed you my brother, my captain… my King."
The light passed from Boromir's eyes and he slumped backwards, dead.
"Be at peace, son of Gondor."
Faramir awoke with a start, left confused and disorientated by his dream. The words were unclear and confusing to him: King, Frodo, ring? Nothing of what was said made sense, but the outcome of his dream was clear. He had often had prophetic-like dreams, a trait likely inherited from his mother, and while his father had often dismissed them, Faramir always knew there was a hidden meaning, like the dream about Imladris. But this was the most real dream he had had, and he knew what would happen.
If Boromir went to Rivendell, he would die.
Faramir immediately got out of bed and changed. He knew exactly what he had to do. It would anger his father, and likely his brother too, but that didn't matter to him. He couldn't let his brother go on this mission and be killed.
He packed as quickly and silently as he could, only taking the essential things. Years as a Ranger meant he was used to limited possessions, content with his bow, arrow and sword to get him through.
He knew he couldn't wake Boromir to say goodbye, he would never allow him to go through with this, and he certainly couldn't tell his father, but he also felt that leaving without a single word was the wrong thing to do. He grabbed a quill and parchment and wrote to Boromir.
Brother,
I have ridden out to Rivendell.
You will think I am foolish, no doubt, but this is something I have to do. I have had another dream, Boromir, one that this time I cannot ignore. This is something I must do. You always said you trust no other above me, and so I ask you to please trust me on this.
Father will be mad at me, and should I return, I will accept whatever punishment he deems necessary, but that punishment is one I will take gladly in order to prevent what I saw in my dream.
I know you well enough to know that as you are reading this, your horse is already saddled, and you are preparing to ride after me, but I left in the early hours of the morning and will be far by the time you wake. I am the faster rider, you will not catch me. Please do not waste your time coming after me.
I do not know what will happen when I get to Rivendell, but I will be able to decipher the dream we both had, and I can prevent my dream from happening.
Do not worry for me, you always said I am stronger than I look.
Faramir.
Faramir slid the letter under the door to his brother's chambers and snuck out. He was used to travelling silently due to his time with the rangers, and the skill came in handy here. He was silent as he walked through the halls and remained unseen as he headed to the stables.
He stroked the nose of his horse, Anorroch, and muttered to the beautiful creature in Elvish to calm him down after being startled from his sleep.
Faramir set to work on saddling him and was almost set to go when a strong arm grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, shoving a piece of parchment in his face.
"What is this?!" The voice demanded angrily, and Faramir looked up to the face of his brother.
Shocked that Boromir was up in the middle of the night, Faramir had no words, but shushed his brother, worrying that his loud voice would attract attention.
"No, I will not be quiet! Perhaps attention being drawn is just what is needed here!"
"I did not think you would be up," was all that Faramir replied.
"Evidently. I have been with my men at the inn. I walk into my room and find this." He shoves the parchment in Faramir's face once more. "Imagine my surprise, shock and horror when I read that my normally sensible brother has decided to do something so incredibly stupid."
"I am not being stupid. I have thought this through, Boromir."
"Oh really? When did you decide this? As soon as you left earlier? Is that what you have been doing the last few hours, carefully planning?" Boromir was bombarding Faramir with too many questions.
"Boromir, please, just let me explain."
"Ah, good, I get an explanation." Faramir ignored the sarcastic comment and began explaining to Boromir.
"I had a dream—"
"A dream?! This is all because of a dream?!" Boromir's words hurt Faramir slightly because they sounded like something his father would say. His words were almost sarcastic and full of doubt.
"You normally believe what I say about the dreams I have."
"I believe them. What I do not believe in is them leading you to make stupid decisions. Faramir, have you even considered what—"
"If you go to Rivendell you will die!" Faramir rarely shouted, especially to Boromir, but his brother was hardly allowing him the chance to speak so he felt he needed to get straight to the point and illustrate his point loudly.
And it worked. Boromir had stopped talking and looked at his brother in shock. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet.
"You saw this?" Faramir nodded before replying.
"Not a lot made sense. I did not recognise the people. You mention people I do not know, something about taking a ring. It seemed a bit confusing to me. But the clear thing was that you die. It was as real as you are now."
"How?"
"What?"
"How did I die?"
"Arrows. Three of them. Killed by orcs." Boromir looked down, but then recalled something else that Faramir said and his head shot back up, his eyes wide.
"You mentioned a ring?"
"Yes. You said you tried to take the ring from someone, Frodo his name was."
Boromir looked disturbed at what his brother revealed.
"Faramir, you cannot go."
"Did you not hear what I just said?"
"I did. And I do not want to die. But this is more dangerous than you realised. I do not know how he knows, but father spoke to me of why Lord Elrond has called this meeting. He believes the One Ring has been found."
"The One Ring?" Faramir was stunned, but everything made sense now. His earlier dreams: The Sword that was Broken referred to Narsil and Isildur's bane must be the One Ring.
"Now do you see why I need to go? It is too dangerous."
"If my dream is true, then you try to take it."
"Father wants me to bring it here, to use it against Sauron."
"No, that would be too dangerous. We are too close to Mordor. Orcs took Osgiliath once, they can do it again. And then what stands between them and taking the ring back to Sauron?"
"The entire city of Minas Tirith."
"That may not be enough." Boromir sighed as he tried to reason with Faramir. When the occasion arose, Faramir could be incredibly stubborn, and when his mind was set on something it was hard change it.
"I do not like this either, Faramir. I like it even less now that you have told me I will die. But this quest is dangerous, I know it is. I will not stand by and watch you leave."
"I am not a child anymore, Boromir. You do not need to always look out for me." There wasn't an ounce of bitterness in Faramir's voice, he was merely a man trying to convince his protective older brother that he would be fine.
"I promised her I would protect you. They were my last words to her." Boromir's eyes softened as he thought of the last time he saw his mother as she lay dying, swearing to her that Faramir would always be safe.
"And you've kept your promise. But Boromir, please. This is something I have to do. The dreams telling me to go, now this dream, it has to be me." Faramir could tell he was beginning to get through to his brother, who remained silent for a short while before sighing deeply and speaking.
"Father will be mad." They both knew it to be true. Denethor had wanted his pride and joy to bring him a mighty gift. Perhaps the reason he was so against Faramir going was because he was less certain Faramir would bring him the ring.
"I won't be here for him to get mad. Like I said, I am a fast rider. But if I do not leave soon, I will not have much of a head-start."
Faramir's bag of supplies had dropped when Boromir had grabbed him, so Boromir reached down and handed the bag to Faramir.
"I will tell him that I had the dream. I will make something up and tell him that the dream made me realise it was you who had to go. He will still be mad, but perhaps he will understand."
"Thank you."
Boromir helped Faramir continue to saddle his horse and they were quickly done. Faramir moved to get on his horse, but stopped and turned back to Boromir, embracing his brother.
After being released from his brother's hold, Faramir jumped on his horse, ready to leave.
"Faramir, you are not just doing this to impress father, are you? Because there are much less dangerous ways to do so." Faramir laughed, almost a laugh of self-pity.
"In all honesty, Boromir, I doubt there is anything I could do to impress him. He would always find a fault. But no, that is not why I am doing this. My dreams are real, I know they are."
"Take care of yourself."
"I will. And you too."
"I always do." Boromir reached up and patted Faramir on the back. "Farewell, little brother."
Despite knowing that preventing Boromir from going would save his life, he still felt a shiver run down his spine and a foreboding feeling crossed over him. Unable to speak due to an emotion he couldn't quite name, Faramir nodded back to his brother and galloped off, leaving Boromir to watch as his little brother rode further and further out of sight.
This is my first Lord of the Rings fanfic so I am really open to any suggestions that people have on how to improve my writing.
Btw, I am terrible at chapter titles so any suggestions on improvements for that is always welcome too.