Author's note: These two stories, which are linked yet are also capable of standing alone, were the result of a fairly insistent plot bunny with big, sharp, pointy teeth. The first story is from Faramir's perspective, and the second from Boromir's of the exact same event: the hour of time before Boromir leaves Minas Tirith to seek Rivendell. If you have a moment, please read and review, as I'm not sure how well I've pulled this off.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, although it would be nice.
In the Dark Hour Before Dawn
By
Stargazer Nataku
In the dark hour before dawn, I watch my brother as he straps packs onto the back of his horse. My heart is full of a deep sense of foreboding, a nameless fear that strikes to the very core of my soul as I watch him. Yet I did not speak of it to him, for I know that my practical brother would scoff at what he has always called my "useless fancies" and tell me to keep my mind on the present, not imagined dreams of a future no one could predict.
Yet I have always had the benefit of foresight, though Boromir always laughs at my dreams and chides me over them. He was never cruel about it, as Father was, but always loving in his admonitions, and as I watch him I wonder what I shall do without his support. My beloved brother will travel far, ere he comes home again, and it will be long before I see his face again, even if he escapes the doom I fear and returns to our people.
I depend on him, perhaps more than anyone else knows; his strength, his valor, his serious and rational manner. He is the warrior, the strength of our people. All of our people see him this way. But what I was I? The second son, the scholar. Father mocks me for it, telling me I should have been more like Boromir, and sometimes I yearn to be like my brother. Yet I know that I can never be anything other than I am, no matter how hard I wish it, if only for my father's approval.
Boromir has finished, and he pauses for a moment, hand stroking the warm place on his horse's neck underneath her mane. He is silent, and so am I, waiting for him to speak. After a moment, he gives a small sigh, and turns to me. There is no fear in his eyes, only strength, though I can see that he is as grieved at this parting as I am. "It is nearly dawn," he says.
"So it is brother." More for something to do than something that is needed, I reach out and adjust the saddle blanket. Boromir watches me do it and says nothing for a moment.
"Do not fear imagined evils," he finally says, and I meet his gaze. So much like my brother, to know what I am thinking. "It is a long road I ride, and a dangerous one, but have faith in me."
"I do," I answer, "More faith than I have in anyone else in all of Middle-Earth."
"And yet you are afraid." I do not answer. "What have you seen?"
"Nothing," I answer, and it is the truth. I have seen nothing that should indicate to me that Boromir will never return. But my heart…my heart cries out of a loss unimagined in my sight. He sighs. "Nothing," I say again, "except a riddle in a dream."
"Indeed," I answer. There is a pause, then he laughs suddenly, and reaches out to clasp my shoulder. A warrior's salute.
"It has always been you who chases dreams, Faramir," he says, "And I thought you a fool. Yet with the dawn I ride out in search of dreams and legends, and hope against a darkness that is ever growing. A fool's errand perhaps."
"No," I answer, "I am sure it is not." And I am. But it does not make the ache in my heart less. He smiles at me and embraces me, and we hold each other for but a brief instant before he pulls away. Outside, I can see the sky is lightening, the stars fading. He turns to take the bridle of his horse. "It is time." Together we walk the streets of the city, down to the Great Gate, and everywhere we go people wish my brother a safe and swift journey. He replies to each one with kind words, though he never smiles, as we make our way downward.
When we reach the first circle, Father is there waiting for us, with only two of the Citadel guards standing there. Even so, I feel that there are many eyes on us from above. The Steward steps out, and he looks Boromir over appraisingly. "Are you still set upon this fool's errand?" he demands.
"I am, my Lord," Boromir answers.
"Then I shall not try to dissuade you, my son." Indeed, I think, as Denethor smiles at my brother, that he would never try to dissuade Boromir. When I told him of the dream, he called me a fool. Now Boromir embarks on the quest that I would have taken, to spare my brother the hardship. After soft words between father and son that I cannot hear, Boromir turns to me.
"The hour is upon us," he says.
"Indeed," I answer. We are silent, merely looking at each other, and then he smiles and grasps my wrist in a warrior's salute. The leather of his bracers is cold in my grasp, as I clasp his wrist in return.
"Farewell, brother. I leave our city and our people in your care."
"I shall do my best to protect them until you return to us,"
"I know you will, else I would never depart." He smiles. "You are a great man, Faramir." I notice he has said this loud enough so that our father must have heard him. I smile sardonically.
"It is you who are great, Boromir, greater than I shall ever be. Protector of our people, seeker of legends." He laughs.
"Nay," he answers, "I leave our people at a time when the shadows grow ever longer and darkness threatens to consume all we love. You will protect it, while I chase dreams."
"To the same end that I stay," I answer, "We both do what we must for them." He smiles at me and releases his grip on my wrist.
"Indeed," he answers, and turns to take the bridle of his horse. "Farewell, Faramir. Care for our people, and yourself."
"May the Valar be between you and harm in all the empty places you will walk," I say to him, "Farewell, beloved brother." He smiles at me and mounts his horse as the Great Gates swing open before him. He gives father and brother one last smile, and then turns away. As he rides out, he gives a great blast of his horn, and the people of the city cheer him, their champion.
I smile, though my heart is still heavy as Boromir disappears from view. I can feel Denethor's eyes on me, and I turn and bow to him. "I await your orders, my lord," I say softly. But he does not speak to me, merely glares and turns to walk away.
I stand alone as the gate clangs shut, the echo of my brother's horn still ringing in my ears.