/Ladada wee! Boromir/Faramir loverlymess./
Sometimes I wonder what might have been. If Boromir had lived. What my life would still be like with him in my life, but I suppose he's never really left me. Not when he is constantly in my heart, and in my reflection.
I still can recall one night when I was shoved brutally off my horse during a skirmish in earlier years. My father had not broken us up yet to do our separate duties. I was still being trained, and I think he figured that I would be better off learning from his first born. So it was true. And those moments were what I held onto during my younger years.
**************
A rider beside me had accidentally rammed into me, spooking and nearly injuring my horse. She halted abruptly, and I went flying clear over her head; the force was too sudden and strong to grasp the reigns tighter and cling to the saddle. I could not remember what had happened afterwards.
I woke up several hours later, I supposed. My head throbbed, and everyone seemed to be heading home. There was a warmth that enveloped most of me, and I was firmly supported from falling backwards. I noticed I was sitting up, as my dizziness began to shake off and my eyes took focus.
"Faramir?" He asked me.
I blinked, and turned my head to meet my eyes with his. Boromir. You're always there for me when I need you. His arms were around my waist, I now realized, with the reigns of his beautiful bay's bridle in his hands. I was leaning back against his strong chest; his protective embrace.
".Boromir." I replied groggily. "What happened?"
"We won, and you took a nasty fall. I'll take you to the healers once we've arrived."
Always so concerned. Always wanting the best for me. I knew he would postpone his father's requests of seeing him in order to benefit me. Sometimes I wished he wouldn't, because as father and steward, disobeying him was nearly unforgivable.even though he could never be satisfied with me.
"I'm glad we won," I mused.
For a moment we rode on in silence, as the other men around us either cheered or mourned over the lives of lost ones. Boromir, however in charge of the regime, would not stir them for any reason. They had done enough work for Gondor, for our father. He would give them their peace.
His hand reached for mine. My heart stirred, for the heat of his hand was much greater than mine due to my concussion, and the contact was so gentle. "And I'm glad you're alive." He gripped my hand tighter, holding it between his fingers and his thumb, tracing my palm with his thumb. His touch was firm and reassuring. I leaned back against him, and sighed contently. It was good to be alive after all.
It was later that night, after being sent to the healers, dinner and a bath that Boromir insisted that I return to his quarters that night so he could keep an eye on me. He was practicing medicine himself, and he knew I'd be in safe and comfortable hands.
I stood, glancing around his room. It was just as I had remembered it when we were young, when we'd use to bunk together. My father disapproved of this when Boromir turned eleven, and me nine. Now my facial hair was beginning to grown in, but I kept clean shaven. Boromir was nearing twenty, and also kept clean. I didn't think that would last very long, however. He struggled with the razor every day.
My head began to throb again. Instinctively, I grasped my head with my hands, and rubbed the area that hurt. The dim lighting from the candles probably triggered the pain. Boromir rushed to my aid, while he was in the middle of setting a bed up for himself on the floor.
"Really, I'm fine," I insisted, as he tried to help me to his bed. I lay down, and maid myself comfortable. "Please, don't trouble yourself with me. I'm not demanding that you get off the bed. This is your room, after all."
"And you are my guest, Little Brother," he replied politely. "But if you insist." I leaned over to one side of the bed and laid blankets on top of me, as Boromir laid beside me after blowing out the candles. The smell of him was pleasant, I noticed; a faint musk. He must have washed up before he found me as well.
The darkness and warmth was so comfortable. I wanted to lay enfolded in its arms forever, and never move from the bed. I lay on my side, facing Boromir. I would not be rude and turn my back from him. I could feel him.he lay so near, his breathing so calm and steady. I could have only moved a little to be aligned with his body. But he kept his distance and I kept mine, knowing that brothers can only share one type of love, and it wasn't what either of us were searching for. We slept soundly that night, in each other's company.
**************
But now I realize what I was searching for.
Where would I have been without him? We grew up on one another, and we had even made promises when we were children that we would never leave the other's side, that we would die together, and not leave the other to suffer alone. Even when we got into arguments we never stayed mad for long, and we forgave each other as easily as we accidentally slipped into the fray.
He was what I was searching for. And I can only wonder now if he ever felt the same in return.
Sometimes I wonder what might have been. If Boromir had lived. What my life would still be like with him in my life, but I suppose he's never really left me. Not when he is constantly in my heart, and in my reflection.
I still can recall one night when I was shoved brutally off my horse during a skirmish in earlier years. My father had not broken us up yet to do our separate duties. I was still being trained, and I think he figured that I would be better off learning from his first born. So it was true. And those moments were what I held onto during my younger years.
**************
A rider beside me had accidentally rammed into me, spooking and nearly injuring my horse. She halted abruptly, and I went flying clear over her head; the force was too sudden and strong to grasp the reigns tighter and cling to the saddle. I could not remember what had happened afterwards.
I woke up several hours later, I supposed. My head throbbed, and everyone seemed to be heading home. There was a warmth that enveloped most of me, and I was firmly supported from falling backwards. I noticed I was sitting up, as my dizziness began to shake off and my eyes took focus.
"Faramir?" He asked me.
I blinked, and turned my head to meet my eyes with his. Boromir. You're always there for me when I need you. His arms were around my waist, I now realized, with the reigns of his beautiful bay's bridle in his hands. I was leaning back against his strong chest; his protective embrace.
".Boromir." I replied groggily. "What happened?"
"We won, and you took a nasty fall. I'll take you to the healers once we've arrived."
Always so concerned. Always wanting the best for me. I knew he would postpone his father's requests of seeing him in order to benefit me. Sometimes I wished he wouldn't, because as father and steward, disobeying him was nearly unforgivable.even though he could never be satisfied with me.
"I'm glad we won," I mused.
For a moment we rode on in silence, as the other men around us either cheered or mourned over the lives of lost ones. Boromir, however in charge of the regime, would not stir them for any reason. They had done enough work for Gondor, for our father. He would give them their peace.
His hand reached for mine. My heart stirred, for the heat of his hand was much greater than mine due to my concussion, and the contact was so gentle. "And I'm glad you're alive." He gripped my hand tighter, holding it between his fingers and his thumb, tracing my palm with his thumb. His touch was firm and reassuring. I leaned back against him, and sighed contently. It was good to be alive after all.
It was later that night, after being sent to the healers, dinner and a bath that Boromir insisted that I return to his quarters that night so he could keep an eye on me. He was practicing medicine himself, and he knew I'd be in safe and comfortable hands.
I stood, glancing around his room. It was just as I had remembered it when we were young, when we'd use to bunk together. My father disapproved of this when Boromir turned eleven, and me nine. Now my facial hair was beginning to grown in, but I kept clean shaven. Boromir was nearing twenty, and also kept clean. I didn't think that would last very long, however. He struggled with the razor every day.
My head began to throb again. Instinctively, I grasped my head with my hands, and rubbed the area that hurt. The dim lighting from the candles probably triggered the pain. Boromir rushed to my aid, while he was in the middle of setting a bed up for himself on the floor.
"Really, I'm fine," I insisted, as he tried to help me to his bed. I lay down, and maid myself comfortable. "Please, don't trouble yourself with me. I'm not demanding that you get off the bed. This is your room, after all."
"And you are my guest, Little Brother," he replied politely. "But if you insist." I leaned over to one side of the bed and laid blankets on top of me, as Boromir laid beside me after blowing out the candles. The smell of him was pleasant, I noticed; a faint musk. He must have washed up before he found me as well.
The darkness and warmth was so comfortable. I wanted to lay enfolded in its arms forever, and never move from the bed. I lay on my side, facing Boromir. I would not be rude and turn my back from him. I could feel him.he lay so near, his breathing so calm and steady. I could have only moved a little to be aligned with his body. But he kept his distance and I kept mine, knowing that brothers can only share one type of love, and it wasn't what either of us were searching for. We slept soundly that night, in each other's company.
**************
But now I realize what I was searching for.
Where would I have been without him? We grew up on one another, and we had even made promises when we were children that we would never leave the other's side, that we would die together, and not leave the other to suffer alone. Even when we got into arguments we never stayed mad for long, and we forgave each other as easily as we accidentally slipped into the fray.
He was what I was searching for. And I can only wonder now if he ever felt the same in return.