Brother mine

I am following you walking only few steps behind you, but I am sure you don't see me.
Not looking right or left you stumble blindly in the first building you can find- the old stables. The wooden gate closes behind you with a loud thud. A smile is creeping on my face. I stop before the gate and turn my attention back to the drill fields to give you a few moments alone to compose. I've always wondered how you would fare on the traditional swordsmen tournament, but even in my dreams I wouldn't have thought that your performance would be so good. Though I didn't doubt it either for you are our father's son, just like I am. Maybe even more.
In the crowd of gathered people watching the tournament I catch the glimpse of your opponent leaving in shame. I know him slightly. He is a good swordsman and experienced as well. I am sure he didn't expect to be defeated by a brat like you. I smile again. Indeed, thy father's son. I tear my gaze away.
I think, you have had enough time. I enter the stables. The heath inside is unbearable. Though there aren't horses anymore, their smell is hanging in the air heavily. I spot you nearly immediately in the far corner. Your attention is wrapped in your activity so you don't hear me when I quietly come to you. I put a hand on your shoulder. You jerk wildly, but relax when you recognize me. Your immense relief is like the greatest praise for me. Thank you, brother mine.
"You should be more careful. The next time it can be a foe trying for your life." I was only jesting, but I see that my words hurt you. Despite that I continue, we don't stumble over our lips apologizing. "Let me help you with the shoulder." You gasp.
Oh, Faramir! Have you really thought you can hide an injury before me? Your eyes are wise, yet in some things you are so naive.
I help you to pull the tunic over your head so I can expect the wound on your right shoulder. I see you had already tried to bandage it before, rather clumsily. I don't comment it. When you get to fight the real battles you will learn soon enough how to treat wounds like this one. Till then, I will be here to help.
I see it's an older injury which has been healing already. I am sure this tournament is the reason why it bothers you again. The wound reopened and blood is pouring out freely. It's not serious, but comfortable either.
"You fought really well."
My compliment is falling on deaf ears. Carefully Faramir, there aren't many occasion your brother speaks praises.
"It was good enough to reach the next round."
"I see."
So you have decided to continue in the tournament, despite being hindered by your injury. I am not surprised, but I wonder. Why do you fight so fiercely? What are you fighting for? It's not for the victory.
I know why you inflict this pain upon you, but you would never gain what you are striving for. I know that and you do as well. So why are you trying again and again? Is it not your shoulder, but your pride that has been wounded?
You carry a heavy burden, brother mine, but you aren't willing to give up, or to lose. You were not born to be defeated. Don't give up, try again! I will be your support.
You wince when I clean and dress the wound, but you don't flinch away. Relief is washing over your face as the pain subsides slowly. Yes. I will be here to take the pain away and clean the wounds. You probably won't see, but I'll be there for you. Just as I always have been- in place of the one, who forgot. I will never forget, brother mine.