Author's note: I don't own Faramir or any of his family. I also don't own either Éowyn or Aragorn. But this little story (monologue really) is all mine. Comments are always appreciated. And check out my actor-based fic website at http://www.freewebz.com/cutefaramir/
I was always second best. It did not bother me because it was the way it had always been. For as long as I can remember, I was aware that my father loved my brother far more than he loved me. And that was just the way it was. If anything, it seemed to me that it was the way things should have been. When we were young, Boromir was always better at the things our father thought important. And then we grew up, and even if I proved myself just as good as he was in those things, I did not have the interest. Our father knew that I would always prefer books and art over fighting and battles, so I remained second best.
When I was a child, Boromir would try to pretend that our father did not play favorites. But I knew, and he knew that I knew. When we were older he stopped pretending. He was always protective of me because he knew no one else was.
I wanted to journey to Rivendell. Boromir went instead. It was the only time I can remember him taking advantage of our father's favoritism. I was to go, but my brother talked to our father. He convinced him that this was the duty of a first son, and he would be best suited to uphold the honor of Gondor.
And he got himself killed. I wonder if it really should have been me. They tell me that my father thought so, when he heard, and that he raved about it at the end. If I had gone...if I had died...my father would only have been relieved that he had not sent Boromir. And both of them could still be alive.
But it does not do to dwell on such things. I must accept what happened and go on as best I can. Even if I have been second best all my life, I must realize that there is no longer anyone to be second best to.
Except...
Éowyn of Rohan rests in the Houses of Healing, as I do. She is proud and sad, and she loves Aragorn, son of Arathorn. She talks to me though, and sometimes her eyes say things to me that her heart says are for Aragorn.
Or perhaps I just imagine them, because I love her.
She knows that he is not hers, and yet she persists in thinking of him. It would be so easy for me to accept her this way. All my life I have been second best, and I could be happy being her second choice, a consolation in the absence of a real prize.
But this is wrong, and I realize that I should not be content with being second best. So I refuse to take her heart unless it truly belongs to me. I will not be happy unless I am first in her heart.
And I want this more than anything I have ever wanted. More than I ever wanted my father to acknowledge me, more than I ever wanted my brother to let me go my own way.
But now I am still just second best, for Aragorn sits on the throne of Éowyn's heart. But I will fight, for this is not the way things should be. I know him not, but I do know that he is undeserving of Éowyn's love. That should be reserved for one who will return it, for one who does return it, for one who wants nothing more than to possess it.
So I will wait, and I will hope and I will try to convince her that she loves me.
I do not want to be second best anymore.