Minas Tirith
Night was still upon the great city of Minas Tirith as Boromir crept silently through the halls of his home. He paused from time to time, listening intently for sounds of others stirring. Finally, the young lord stopped, pausing next to a door. Carefully, he tested the handle, thanking the Powers That Be that the servants had greased all the hinges not three days before. He slipped inside and closed the door, pausing again to listen for footsteps. Satisfied that he was still the only one awake, Boromir quickly stole across the room.
"Faramir, wake up." The boy stirred, but did not wake. Sighing, Boromir sat on the edge of his brother's bed and shook him gently. "Faramir, you must wake up. Now." Again, the boy stirred, sleep-fogged eyes peering into the gloom that blanketed the room.
"Wha?"
"Shh, little one, it's only me."
"Bora? What's going on?"
"Get up." Standing, Boromir moved to his brother's chest and began pulling out clothing. "We're going out."
"Out where? Bora?" Sitting up, Faramir rubbed his eyes, desperately trying to keep up with his brother's actions, his sleep-addled brain still trying to slip back into the welcoming arms of dream-land. Faramir groped for a candle, idly glancing towards the window. "The sun isn't even up yet. Can't we wait until then?"
"No, we must leave now." Returning to his brother's bed, Boromir dumped the clothing into Faramir's lap. "Get dressed. Quickly." Sighing gently, Faramir slid from the warmth of his bed and began to dress. There really was no arguing with his brother when'd he'd made up his mind.
While Faramir changed, Boromir returned to the door. Silently, he opened the door a crack and peered into the hall. Still empty. Feeling a slight tug at his sleeve, Boromir jumped and spun on his heel, turning to face a still confused Faramir. "Bora, I'm dressed."
Boromir smiled softly. Faramir had always been small for his age, and watching his struggle to fight the gently caress of sleep made him seem even younger. He could see why their father didn't trust him sometimes. Faramir had always been deceptively capable, a skill Boromir envied at times.
"Alright, follow me."
Quietly, the two lords stole out of Faramir's room and made their way through the halls of their home. Reaching the door, Boromir cracked it open and scanned the small courtyard in front of their home. For once in his life, Boromir was glad orcs had attacked; there weren't enough guards to spare any to guard their house. Of course, as soon as their father realized this, he'd find someone who could be sparred, some rookie who hadn't seen battle, no doubt. Lord Denathor was predictable that way.
Slipping outside, the two boys continued their journey, the fading night still cover enough for the main streets. As the eastern sky finally lightened, the boys reached the stables behind the training grounds. Boromir held up a hand to signal his brother. Silently, the elder slipped into the stables. The minutes slid past as Faramir watched the sky continue to lighten.
Once inside, Boromir edged his way past the stable boy and headed towards the back. Reaching the farthest stalls, Boromir carefully led the two horses out. Pausing to listen for any sound from the stable boy, Boromir carefully saddled the steeds. He then stole up the ladder and dropped down several bags he had packed the day before. He attached these to the horses as well before leading them towards the exit. Suddenly, one of the horses, a big chestnut stallion, let out a snort, obviously displeased with being woken at this hour. Boromir froze, his attention riveted to the stable boy. The boy shifted slightly, rolling over to his side before stilling once more. Letting out a silent breath of relief, Boromir returned to where Faramir was waiting, patient as ever.
"Where are we going?"
"Osgiliath."
Faramir's eyes widened, all sleep gone. "But, father said I wasn't allowed."
"Well, what father doesn't know can't hurt much more, can it?" asked Boromir, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Besides, you'll have this job one day, I might as well teach you the rounds now, right? Experience is the best teacher or something."
"Well…" Faramir studied his boots nervously. "Won't we get in trouble? I mean, you might get off with a scolding, but father-"
"Will know it was my idea before he ever sees you," interrupted Boromir, his voice stern. Dropping his authoritative act, Boromir grinned mischievously. "Of course, if father gets really angry, we can always blame it on your tutor. He's been complaining that your attention has been drifting. History's always more interesting when you get to see the places you studying."
"But I'm not learning about Osgiliath," replied Faramir.
"I know," said Boromir, an air of superiority collecting about him. "But I thought we might take a detour on the way back. You didn't really think we'd need all this for two people to go to Osgiliath and back, did you?"
"No," came the reply, somewhat muffled by the fact the Faramir had yet to return his gaze to his brother. Sighing, Boromir knelt in front of his brother, tilting Faramir's head so he could see his face.
"Faramir, I promise that father will not punish you for this. I promise you this as your big brother, and as your friend." Boromir watched Faramir as his thoughts battled inside his head. Finally, his trust in Boromir won out. Sighing again, the smaller boy moved towards the two steeds.
"I suppose we should leave before it gets too light. Father won't be up for another few hours at least, but the farther we are from here, the better." Grin back in place, Boromir hefted his brother into the saddle, ignoring the quiet objection. "I can get up myself, you know." Boromir laughed.
"I know you can, little one, I know." Nudging his horse, Boromir led his brother down through the city, now just stirring from it's sleep. Peasants drifted from their homes, nodding sleepy 'hellos' to the passing boys. Finally, they reached the gate, the sun just peeking over the mountains behind them. As they neared the guards, Boromir turned and headed down an alleyway. Curiously, and without much choice, Faramir followed him.
"Bora, the gate is that way."
"I know, little one, but we don't want to bother with the guards this morning. They report straight to father as of late and we won't make it as far as Osgiliath if they know we are leaving before we have left." Following the maze of alleys, Boromir led them to a side gate, hardly large enough for two men to walk abreast. Boromir dismounted and opened the doors before leading his horse through. When Faramir had slipped through as well, he shut the gate again. Remounting his horse, Boromir started off once more, sticking as close to the wall as he dared. "We should hurry, Osgiliath may not be far, but we need to be off by morning on our 'detour'." Nodding, Faramir nudged his horse into a trot and followed Boromir away from the city.
