Part One - Childhood
Faramir watched intently as his older brother practiced his swordsmanship. Faramir was only five, but he already had a sense of responsibility and good judgement. Even so, he was not allowed to start combat lessons until he was seven. Thus the Steward's younger son was limited to watching Boromir.
Not that he minded, of course. Faramir loved his brother, to the extent where Boromir sometimes wished to be an only child. Faramir thought Boromir, who was so praised with his fighting skills and sense of adventure and commanding, was the bravest person in the world. He could remember when he had first gotten that notion, and grinned.
Faramir wasn't much of a fighter. He stayed quiet and kept his thoughts and dreams to himself and the ones closest to him. (Boromir often found himself with an earful of flying boats, Elven realms, and talking lions.) He never really spoke, not attracting attention, at least, and cared for animals as intently as he would have a relative. Quiet, animal-loving, and his deep brown eyes always dreaming, he was often bullied by bigger and meaner lads.
Boromir was the (almost) exact opposite. His red-brown hair maked him with a fiery temper, and he almost fought as well as the training master. He was down-to-earth and practical, yet he often dreamt of glory, victorious wars, and the day he would gain the respect of all and become a Captain of guards or armies. He had already gained the respect of all the other boys, who teased Faramir only when their "captain" was not around. It wasn't just because Boromir was the elder son of the Steward... He had a commanding, always-knowing aura about him. Being the favorite of many, Denethor prided Boromir. It made sense that he could not understand his younger son: Boromir was of his skin, blood, and mind. Faramir seemed not so.
It had been one of those really horrible days for Faramir. The puppy hound he had been healing, Apple, had died, Boromir seemed mad at him - although he never did stay mad for long, the uncomfortable silences could be torture - Denethor was really mad at him, and the bullies had chosen perfect timing to make Faramir's life more miserable.
"Wimp," a particulary nasty boy, Firien, sneered. He glared at him. Slightly short for his age, eleven-year-old Firien took out his frustration and boredom on the younger and small boys. "Always hanging around your oh-so-brave brother all the time. Sissy." No one moved to help Faramir, in stead they laughed. Whether because they did not want to be bullied by Firien - who also tattled to his parents - or they really meant that horrible laugh, Faramir wasn't sure, but he didn't really want to know.
"Go - go away," Faramir murmured. He was used to ganging-ups (when Boromir was not around), but this had been a black-letter day for him. "Leave me alone!"
"Oh, so you do speak!" Firien grinned. "I thought you only spoke to animals, sissy."
"Leave me alone."
Boromir just then had been passing silently. He was supposed to be at his lessons, but his history-teacher had asked him to deliver a particular note to a merchant, saying he needed five more scrolls on the wars of Gondor. History was boring anyway, unless there were wars.
"You don't need to yell at my brother, Firien," Boromir said coolly, stepping out from the shadows. "He did you no harm. Now leave him alone, as he says."
Firien slightly looked nervous. When he realized Boromir was going to let him go without a punch or a fight, he scurried away.
Faramir followed Boromir silently. Then Boromir remarked, "Nasty fellow."
"Yep."
"You okay? They did anything to you?" Boromir walked in a sort of a swagger-march, yet it did not seem too proud or annoying.
"No. Thanks, Boromir."
"No problem."
It was that day that Faramir had really reallyliked Boromir. He stuck to Boromir like a shadow for a whole week after that, like a lost puppy, and Boromir was almost sorry for what he had done.
That's why Faramir thought Boromir was the bravest person in the world.
Seven Years Later
"Faramir, hands out! Don't slouch, just lean a little for the balance to settle in!" The training master shouted as they swordfought. Faramir sighed and redid the position, being careful not to slouch, hold back his hands, or not to lean.
Lucky Boromir, Faramir thought, with some envy. Swordfighting seemed to come naturally to the older adolscent, who had now become a Guard and being promoted quickly, while Faramir had to struggle through each step. Seventeen-years old just a month ago, he was becoming more and more respected. Faramir was becoming... He honestly did not know.
Why am I not brave?he thought, frustrated. Boromirseemed so brave, with his sword and almost-Captain's position, and that... aura. Why not?Denethor had said Boromir was brave, a lot of times. Faramir couldn't even remember when Denethor had said a compliment to him.
That might be just because I don't see him that much, Faramir thought quickly, blocking that thought. It was true.
An idea occured to his mind. He would see what being brave really meant, from Boromir, and he would follow that example.
"Boromir? What does being brave mean?" Faramir asked his older brother. Now as a Guard and being promoted to Captain, he was busy and Faramir could not see him often as he had years back.
"Brave?" Boromir repeated. "Well... Faramir... I guess brave means to face armies without fear, to do one's duty without any other temptation, and help one's country."
Faramir thought about that. Then he said his thanks and walked out of the room. He would try to do all those things, now. He wanted to be brave.