All for You
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings . . . still. That bites. Tolkien does, that is J.R.R Tolkien and his wonderful mind for creating such a great place and characters. And also some scenes in this fic belong to Peter Jackson for making such a great scene containing Boromir and Faramir brotherliness.
Summary: After Boromir has re-captured Osgiliath. He receives word from his father that he must go to Rivendell to secure the One Ring and bring it to Gondor to save his people. These are the thoughts about his quest, his brother, his father, and his people.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter 1: Victory and Defeat
Boromir opened the flap to his tent and ordered roughly to the page inside to saddle and prepare his horse, the poor boy, frightened that the Captain was in a very bad mood quickly ran out to do his bidding. Angrily Boromir began throwing clothes and items into his saddle-packs and started taking off his protective armor in exchanged for traveling clothes.
As he did all of his, all of his thoughts revolved around one event in the day that had brought him to this mood.
Flashback:
Boromir carried the standard of Gondor confidently to the top of the wall. His men and troops down below shouted his name loudly as they cheered and whistled. We have won this battle . . . we have re-claimed Osgiliath as our own again, as she should have been. Thought Boromir as he planted the end of the flag firmly into the wall as he gazed over the people he had fought with, laughed with, and suffered with over the years of his service as a Captain of Gondor, and the son of the Steward.
"This city was once the jewel of our kingdom, a place of light, of beauty, and music. And so it shall be once more!" shouted Boromir. His men responded enthusiastically by cheering loudly, waving their various weapons up in the air, their happiness and relief that the battle was finally over permeated every inch of the air, "Let the armies of Mordor know this, never again will the land of my people fall into enemy hands!" his men cheered again, even more passionately for their captain, once more Boromir silenced them, "This city, had been claimed …for Gondor!" Boromir thrust his fist into the air.
"For Gondor!" chorused back the weary soldiers.
"For Gondor!" shouted back Boromir.
"For Gondor!"
"For Gondor!"
"For Gondor!" finished the men. This is what I'll be living soon, as the Steward of this beautiful kingdom of Gondor. With my people. Thought Boromir as he quickly made his way off the wall. Where's Faramir? I did not see his face in the crowd. He was about to go search for his brother when arms flung themselves around him, it seems that Faramir had found him first.
"Good speech, nice and short." smiled Faramir.
Boromir beamed back at his little brother and clapped him on the shoulder, "Well it leaves more time for drinking!" he turned and beckoned his men to the awaiting ale barrels, "Break out the ale! These men are thirsty!" shouted Boromir. The men around him cheered and rushed towards the barrels. One of the soldiers handed Boromir two mugs of frothy ale. Boromir handed one to Faramir and made a toast, not minding the froth that spilled out of the mugs due to their rough handling.
"Remember today little brother, today, life is good." smiled Boromir as he gulped down the liquid into his parched throat.
Faramir smiled back, and drank down a bit. Boromir smiled back at his little brother. Still the same as ever, even though he's been through war. By the time we get back home he's going to try and read all the books he had missed when we left for battle. Thought Boromir, but his smile faltered when Faramir's slowly faded away.
"What is it?" asked Boromir still grinning.
Faramir's eyes roved past the arch they stood near, "He's here." was all that needed to be said.
A familiar voice drifted through the air, "Well done. Good job." and a man with long graying hair came into view weaving in and out of the soldiers, it was not surprising that that he quickly caught sight of Boromir and gave a wide smile.
"Can't he give us but one moment's peace?" muttered Boromir heatedly as he strode to meet his father.
"Where's Gondor's greatest? Where's my son, my firstborn?" asked Denethor hugging Boromir tightly to him before letting go to look in his face, "They say you beat them back almost single-handedly!"
"Oh, they exaggerate! It was Faramir's victory as well!" protested Boromir throwing out an arm in Faramir's direction. Faramir moved to be acknowledged, and he was, but not in the way he had hoped.
"And if it hadn't been for Faramir, this city would still be standing." snapped Denethor distastefully.
"We were outnumbered." protested Faramir.
"Outnumbered? You gave the city to the Enemy on their whim!" barked Denethor with a grim smile.
But it wasn't Faramir's fault! They were outnumbered five to one! Why does father never give Faramir any acknowledgement for his good deeds? Thought Boromir, his anger getting the better or him, "He tries to do your will, yet you give him no credit." muttered Boromir striding away hoping to avoid his father any longer. But there was no such luck, Denethor followed him persistently.
So instead of continuing this chase Boromir ducked into a food pantry which was void of any people for the moment . . . thank the Valar. Denethor as expected followed him in. He turned on his father quickly, "He loves you father! Don't you know that?" he pleaded.
"Do not trouble me with such things right now. I have more important things to speak of." hissed Denethor, "Elrond of Rivendell has called for a council, but he will not tell why, but I think I know."
What should I care about the dealing of Elves? Thought Boromir, he was about to interject that Faramir would care more about this than he would when Denethor went on instead, "They think they had found the weapon of the Enemy."
That piece of information stopped Boromir in his tracks, "The One Ring? Isildur's Bane?" asked Boromir eyeing his father doubtfully and fearfully.
"Yes and it has fallen into the hands of the Elves," hissed Denethor, "And all other races of Middle Earth will try to claim it, Men, Dwarves, Elves . . . but we won't let that happen. You go, bring this weapon back to Gondor. It is our people, our blood that is buying the freedom of Middle Earth, not theirs!"
Boromir looked at his father incredulously and shook his head, "No, no! My place is here with my people! Not in Rivendell!" with that he rushed out to find Faramir again. Maybe he could get Faramir to go instead. Faramir knew much more about elvish things than he did, and just the thought of not being here for his people seemed outrageous to him.
As always, Faramir was in the same place Boromir had left him. Waiting for his big brother to come back. Denethor growled and placed a hand on Boromir's shoulder and spun him around, "Would you turn down your own father?"
"If there be need to go to Rivendell, send me in his stead." offered Faramir quietly. As always, somehow Faramir would know the most surprising things and be there to save him.
Denethor sneered at Faramir, "Send you in his stead? And let this be the chance for Faramir Captain of Gondor to show his quality? I think not." said Denethor as Boromir watched in disbelief as Faramir's offer was rejected, and saw the look of hope on Faramir's face . . . the hope of actually pleasing his father for once slowly disappear as Denethor turned back to Boromir, "This mission I trust to your brother alone. No one else." with that Denethor weaved his way back out of the crowd and left.
Faramir watched his big brother go in the opposite direction, to the camp, to most likely prepare to leave. Boromir had a dejected look to him that Faramir was not used to seeing.
End Flashback
Faramir cautiously entered the tent, he knew that his brother was in a bad mood and knew he had to be soft in his steps around the object of frustration. Inside, Boromir was having a exasperating time buckling on his fur cloak, it seems that whatever father was sending him to Rivendell to do contradicted Boromir's thoughts greatly, which didn't happen often. Gently Faramir took the cloak in his own hands and turned the latch around so that it was in the right position and fastened it snugly as Boromir watched in surprise at his brother following him back. "You seemed worried. Don't be so. I'm sure whatever that is going on in Rivendell will go on fine. You have never failed father before, nor have you ever backed down from any of his requests. I am sure this is not as horrible as you thing. The Elves aren't that bad, in fact, Gandalf told me that they are all very wise and kind in Rivendell." assured Faramir.
"You don't understand Faramir." replied Boromir, raking his fingers through his own short coppery hair and turning away, "It seems that the dream you had, might actually be coming true little brother."
"My dream?" echoed Faramir raising an eyebrow at Boromir's suggestion. "Seek for the Sword that was broken: In Imladris it dwells; There shall be counsels taken, Stronger than Morgul-spells. There shall be shown a token That Doom is near at hand, For Isildur's Bane shall waken, And the Halfling forth shall stand."
Boromir wearily nodded as he hefted the saddle pack in his hands and started out of the tent where the page had left his horse. The two brother walked back to Osigilath trying to lift each other's slowly sinking spirits, making half-hearted jokes here, and small jabs there, but nothing seemed to work.
When they finally got to the entrance of Osgiliath, Boromir mounted the horse and slung his shield more securely onto his back and looked into the sky, asking whatever force that was with him if this was the right thing to do. When he got no answer he sighed and looked back down upon Faramir who was looking upon him intently, and longingly. Faramir, little brother, I shall miss you. Thought Boromir as he clasped arms with his brother once more.
"Remember today little brother." he whispered before pushing his horse into a fast trot and leaving his country, people, and family for the very last time.
To be continued….