AN I just had this idea while watching the extended Return of the King, and how sad Faramir looked and what Boromir would have thought. It's so sad at how tired and betrayed Faramir looks when Denethor sends him out to retake Osgiliath. And OMG that scene in the extended RotK when Eomer finds Eowyn body on the battlefield and screams in grief, it was absolutely amazing; I LOVED it!!
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Boromir woke up.
He lay for a moment, just enjoying the peace. Then he began to wonder where he was, as he felt something hard digging into his back. Was he in Moria? No… they had left Moria. So he must be on a riverbank on the Anduin, but he couldn't remember going to sleep.
He remembered…pain. And arrows. And Aragorn.
Wasn't he dead?
He sat up. Staring into the mist he searched for Aragorn or another of his friends. But he saw only white and dark. He crawled to the side of the boat, peered over the edge and watched the water lap up against the pale wood. As they floated past a bunch of reeds, he reached out, grabbing the slippery plants. They scraped against his palms, drawing blood, as he pulled on them.
His muscles ached as he strained them, his head swimming as he pushed his cold body beyond its limits. Finally he felt a gently bump, as the boat hit the soft bank. He crawled forward and pulled himself over the rim of the boat, falling sprawled onto the damp ground below. Boromir lay there for some time, trying to piece together what was going on.
He decided that he must have been so grievously hurt after battle that his friends had left him behind and continued the quest. That did not explain why he was in a boat drifting down the river, but it was the best he could come up with.
He sat up, and noticed that this land, though much of it was shrouded by fog, did not resemble the forest riverside that surrounded the Falls of Rauros. It was more like the flat green fields that were found in his own lands; in fact, it was almost identical to the land between Cair Andros and the City of Osgilath.
Boromir quickly dismissed that thought, knowing that to get that far down the river he would have had to pass the Falls of Rauros, which was impossible. Also, he would have starved long before he got that far. So where in middle-earth was he?
A sharp ache from inside him bought Boromir out of his wonderings. He was starving and parched. He crawled to the river and took great gulps of water, his head clearing as he drank. He then set about finding some food, managing to catch a fish and light a fire to cook it.
Now that he felt fully sated and awake Boromir got up, walking towards the boat, some of which he had used to fuel his fire. Inside he found his cloak and sword, but none of his other belongings. He was disappointed more by the lack of his horn than the absence of food and a water skin.
This whole matter was very strange, and he intended to question Aragorn thoroughly about it when they next met. If they were to meet again.
Boromir decided to walk until he cleared the fog, then hopefully he could use the stars to determine his position. After that he could choose the path he was to take. Sheathing his sword, and throwing on the elvish cloak, he began to walk into the unknown mist.
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Faramir sat staring deeply at the wall, his father's cruel words still fresh in his mind. Were the harsh comments true? Faramir knew that he was not his brother, but surely he had worth in his own right. He could read elvish and the runes of dwarfs, and was considered a very learned man. His brother had never taken the time to learn these arts, preferring to improve his combat skills.
They had different ideas and talents, yes, but did Boromir have the ones that were needed to rule a kingdom? Gandalf entering his room interrupted his self-questioning thoughts.
'Faramir, how fare you?' he said asked kindly, staring intently down at the young man.
'As well as one can in these evil times. I was just thinking about my brother, about how different we are.' Faramir sighed and rose, moving to the bed. 'I should try and get some rest, I have a feeling that father will require me again soon.'
Gandalf smiled as Faramir began to remove his tunic, thinking that Gondor still had hope, with Faramir to protect it. If only Faramir could see past his father's misgivings.
Sighing, Gandalf left Faramir alone.
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Boromir looked up, thankful that he could finally see the clear night sky, and the stars smiling down at him. He lay down in the grass, hands above his head, just as he and Faramir had done when they young.
Oh, my little brother, how I miss you. I will come back to you.
He gazed at the sky, deciding to look for a particularly bright star, called Buiřln. It hung over the Dagorlad, the battle plain. Boromir always searched it out because it was so close to the fires of Mordor, but its light still shone. From the Falls of Rauros it was far in the North-East, so that is where he looked. He couldn't see it, so he began to search a larger area. Eventully he found it, but it was so close! So he must really be lying on the green fields of Gondor, barely 15 miles from the nearest outpost.
Maybe he would see Faramir sooner than he thought.
Boromir slowly got up and moved to some rocks he had seen, a new fire in his heart to return to Minas Tirith as soon as possible. He would sleep, and in the morning make his way the nearest town, and get a horse. He should be home by tomorrow evening.
As he slept, he had a dream that was so real he thought he could touch the figures.
He saw Osgiliath, its ruined walls still holding an ancient beauty. Then he saw orcs flooding through the streets, killing many Gondorian soldiers. He saw Faramir fighting desperately, not even wearing arour, just his ranger outfit. Faramir turned, and seemed to stare at him for a moment, before returning to the battle. Boromir watched in horror as his brother ran round a corner, only to be confronted by soldiers firing arrows that missed Faramir by an inch. When finally the retreat was called, he could see how much pain it caused him to leave the city to the orcs.
When he woke up, Boromir pondered the dream. He shivered at how many times Faramir could have died. Although he was a hardened warrior and knew the risks of war, Boromir was desperate to protect his little brother and was determined to shield him from the pain and death he saw too often. For many years he had kept Faramir out of battle, even though his brother was a capable warrior.
The dream had deeply worried him, hardening his determination to return to the city as soon as possible. However, he took comfort in the fact that his father would never have left Osgiliath so badly defended, or let Faramir fight in a battle that was so likely to get him killed. His father would never do that.