Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings or any of the characters
The sun was high in the sky as the young boys ran through the field, wooden swords clutched tight in their hands. One was older than the other, noticeably so, by about five years. The smaller boy was thin, pale too, looking altogether much weaker than his older sibling.
"Boromir, wait!" called out the smaller child, as his elder brother raced ahead and disappeared over the brow of the hill, showing no signs of slowing down to allow his sibling to catch up.
Puffing for breath, the ginger haired child approached the hill top, slowing down to scramble up the steep peak of the mound. However, upon reaching the summit his brother was nowhere to be seen and the boy flopped down, exhausted and moody.
"Oi! Weasel!"
Boromir's voice made Faramir jump, and he leapt to his feet, regretting showing his dejectedness at being left alone so readily.
"Up here!"
Faramir whipped around, still unable to find the twelve year old shouting at him. His face a picture of dismay and confusion, Faramir continued to search the landscape for his mousey-haired brother.
"What took you so long?"
Boromir gloated, leaping from an overhead branch and landing in front of a very surprised Faramir.
"Come on!"
Without leaving his brother much time for thought, he set off again. Down the hill he ran, running faster with every pace, a red-faced Faramir in tow - whether he was rose cheeked from running or from crying was unclear. Anxious to keep up and not be abandoned again, Faramir ran steadily behind his brother, his brows furrowed in determination. Boromir finally came skidding to a halt when he reached a stream, not fast flowing or deep, but too wide too leap across. A devious smile flickered across his lips as he caught sight of Faramir in the corner of his eye.
Spinning to face him, he raised the wooden sword to threaten his brother, who flinched, anticipating the coming blows. As the sword, which in reality was little more than a stick, fell through the air, Faramir moved his sword to defend against his brother. The swords clashed, and the boys tumbled about, mock sword fighting with their wooden weapons. Faramir did manage to block some of his brother's attacks, but many more rained down on his arms, chest and stomach until he was hurting all over. Boromir grabbed his younger brother, knocking away his sword as he did so.
Throwing his right arm around Faramir's neck to hold him in a secure headlock, Boromir kept a firm grasp on the hilt of his own wooden sword in his left hand. With his brother struggling in vain under his arm, Boromir strode purposefully towards the river. A sharp kick in the shins and a shove sent Faramir tumbling into the water, but that wasn't enough.
Boromir knelt on the grassy bank, and placed his hand amongst the boy's ginger ringlets, applying a gentle but vicious pressure which forced Faramir's head below the surface. The struggling became floundering as Boromir giggled in delight at the power he could exert over his weedy little brother. His arms flailed desperately as Boromir refused to let up, until his body went limp in the water, giving up the fight.
Thanks for reading, I'd really appreciate any comments/thoughts you have - it'll only take a second to type and it would mean a lot to me! Thank you x
