"Good speech. Nice and short," Faramir teased with a smile as his made his way to Boromir.
"Leaves more time for drinking!" Boromir laughed, pulling Faramir to him in a hug and clapping him on the back. "Break out the ale! These men are thirsty!" he gestured to his soldiers, who cheered and immediately set to the task. Filling up two cups, he handed one to his brother, clinking the silver cup with his in a toast.
"Remember today little brother. Today, life is good!" he said, taking a long drink of the ale and laughing with contentment. It had been far too long such since happy times had touched his people. And with his brother here, he could ask for little more.
Finduireth made her way through the crowd, picking up the sides of her dress with both hands to ensure her speed. Finally reaching Faramir, she came to a stop, catching her breath and curtsying low.
"Hail, Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien!" she said in an attempt to keep the occasion formal since they were in public, but failing as a result of her delight, which overwhelmed her.
"I came as soon as I received word," she continued. "Glorious is this day for myself, but especially Gondor! Long we have waited for such news, for only through your efforts has this come to pass!"
"Cousin!" Faramir said with affection, setting his cup down next to the barrels of ale and taking her by the hand, lifting her up to pull her into a hug. "You took long enough to arrive!" he said with a smile, as she gave him a kiss on the cheek, hugging him back.
"I was here!" she said with insistence, a smile on her face as she pulled away and gave Faramir's hand a squeeze. "I came as soon as I received your messages. You are well?"
"Yes, I am well, Finduireth. And, you were here the entire time?" he replied, raising an eyebrow incredulously "Then what, pray tell, did your elder cousin say?" he challenged
"Personally, I enjoyed the 'place of light and beauty and music' part," she replied, eyebrow raised in identical incredulity. "The time is ripe for such things to return to Osgiliath."
"I must agree then. For beauty and music and light are what moves me, as you well know, little cousin." Faramir replied.
"Little cousin?!" she replied in mock disbelief, pulling completely out of his grasp. "Just because I am your cousin does not make me little.'"
That was true for the most part, for they were similar in many ways. Coming from the same bloodline, they contained the similar combination of dark hair and grey eyes, though she was not quite as nobly fair as he, and not quite as tall. Whereas Boromir had grown to be handsome image of his beloved mother but containing his father's temperament, Faramir had grown to be startling and handsome image of his father but containing his mother's temperament. At the same time though, the brothers were still physically strikingly similar. Finduireth in turn had grown to be the comely image of her grandmother Immenor, the oldest sister of Denethor. In temperament and personality Faramir and Finduireth were relatively matched. They shared a similar gift of clear sight, though hers had proven weaker as a result of the more mingled bloodline of her grandfather, Heliath, commoner lieutenant who served under Denethor in his younger days as Captain of the White Tower and who went on to marry Immenor. Finduireth had also grown far less passionate, rather more withdrawn and tense as the years passed on account of the darkening times. However, she and Faramir's interests proved similar, both loving music, beauty, learning and the lore of old. But where Faramir excelled at fighting, looking up to his brother's skill in such things, Finduireth excelled at healing, spending her time in the Houses of Healing as their mistress, helping men's hearts and bodies to do as such, looking up to Boromir as a brother for his ability to do the same through uniting his people and bringing glory to their homeland. The cousins' admiration and respect for each other and Boromir made them almost two equal halves of a whole, with the sense of fidelity between all three never in danger, no matter how dire the circumstance. For even though Finduireth was their cousin through being the grandchild of Denethor's sister, she had grown up with them since the age of one, her parents and grandparents having all died by the time she was four. She saw both more as brothers than cousins, with Denethor, her beloved grand-uncle, as a father.
"That we may be," Faramir replied. "However," he continued, teasing, "I was born before you, making me older of course," he said, spinning her around and pulling back into a hug with one arm. "There's no arguing with that. Besides, your older cousin by five years is always right."
"You think quite highly of yourself , Faramir!"
"And you do not, Fin?"
"That is the second time I have heard that today…"
"The first from Raeliar. In jest, I assume?"
"How did you…?" she replied, cheeks getting warm.
"I saw you when you arrived. Quite a lengthy discussion you two had? And a bit more than that from what I saw, though I'm sure neither of you minded in slightest…"
"And just what are you inferring?" she replied with a nervous laugh. He spun her back around to face him, not allowing her time to recover herself.
"I think you know," he replied thoughtfully, studying her face in that way that she knew that he read her true heart.
"Faramir!" she quickly reproached, realizing what he was doing.
"And I would wish for no other to have my cousin's affections," he replied, an understanding passing between them as the smile returned to his face. She stood there for a moment, at a loss for words. Then, grabbing him into a hug, she whispered "Thank you. Your approval means everything."
"He is like a brother to Boromir and myself, keeping track of you when we are away. How could I not approve?" he replied, pulling out of her grasp and giving her hand a little squeeze. "So when is the official announcement of the engagement?"
"Within a few days, I promise. Uncle knows…or at least he suspects. I just had to inform you and Boromir first. Hopefully, he won't kill him," she joked in reference to her older cousin.
"I don't see why he would. They are the best of friends," Faramir replied. "Though, you may want to make sure Raeliar is far, far away when you tell Boromir that he has been secretly romancing his little cousin…"
"Please!" she said, playfully shoving Faramir away. "Boromir is fully aware of the situation, not to mention incapable of hurting a fly…unless it looks like an orc or some other foul creature…"
"You do wish your fiancé to live to see his wedding day…" Faramir continued.
"You are too much, cousin," she replied, swatting him across the chest as he laughed at her. Quickly taking her hands before she hit him again, Faramir's voice became serious.
"Sincerely though, I cannot see a better match in all of Gondor. My heart is glad for you both."
"Thank you. Your nobility scares me sometimes," she teased. "But, we are all the better for it," she quickly added, voice becoming serious again. "One could not ask for more from family,"
"You flatter me, cousin," he replied, genuinely touched.
"I do not," she countered seriously.
"Well, I am glad that you think so," Faramir replied, eyes twinkling with delight. "Besides, how I could I not notice you two from the moon eyes you give each other?" he teased.
"You are cruel!" she replied with a laugh. "If you do not stop, I shall tell Boromir!"
"Tell Boromir what?" the man said turning to them.
"That I have come. Hail, High Captain and Warden of the White Tower!" Finduireth said, making her way out of Faramir's hug and curtsying low. Eyes widening at the realization she was there, Boromir pulled her from the ground by her shoulders and gave her a bear hug, lifting her from her feet.
"Finduireth! You came!"
"How could I not!" she said, out of breath from his hug as he set her back down. "When the Captains of Gondor call, I come," she replied, kissing him on the cheek.
"And your presence pleases the Captains of Gondor. You, bring this lady some ale!" he called out to one of his men. "I am sure she's thirsty after her ride…"
"I cannot deny that, thank you. You are well?" she said, eyes searching over his face in quick appraisal. "Uninjured?" she continued, taking his hands in hers.
"He has a cut, on his lower left arm," Faramir chimed in. "Though he refuses to do anything about it, as usual," he continued with concern.
"'Tis but a scratch!" Boromir said with a laugh.
"Boromir!" she chided. "How many times have I told you it is imperative that you tend to these things?!"
"Too many times," he said with a wave of his hand. "But you know, in the heat of battle one rarely notices a mere scratch…" he replied.
"Oh, let me look at it," she said. Taking the ale of his hand and setting it on the table she pulled up the torn sleeve of his tunic for inspection.
Upon further scrutiny, she found Boromir had a mildly deep slash across the middle of his forearm. The blood had dried by this time, but it still caused her to frown in concern. Untying the velvet pouch from her belt, she brought out a flask of mint and herb-infused water, along with a clean cloth. Wetting the cloth, she dabbed at the wound, cleaning it thoroughly. Pouring a bit more the water over it, she finally took out one of her kerchiefs, tying it around his arm.
"Thank you. But you worry too much, cousin," Boromir said with a grin of amusement, looking at his newly mended wound.
"I worry too little," she said grimly, taking his arm again to tighten the kerchief and pull his sleeve back down. "Besides, it is my job to worry over you both. Without you, I have nothing."
"I wish not for your heart to be heavy with such distressing things, Fin," he said seriously, placing his hands on her shoulders in reassurance. A smile suddenly coming to his face, he pulled her to his side, putting an arm around her shoulders as clapped a hand on Faramir's shoulder.
"Let us not cloud this day with sadness!" he said with newfound joy. "Today is our day. A day of victory for the children of Gondor!" Handing Finduireth a fresh cup of ale, Boromir raised his cup in toast.
"For too long have we lost hope. This victory is for all of us. Hope for the future of my land, your land and the glory of Gondor. To Gondor!"
"To Gondor!" Faramir and Finduireth said in unison, clasping each other's hands and raising their cups. Taking a drink, they savored the taste of fresh ale, all of them quietly but blissfully basking in the fact that they were all together, something that posed more and more of a rarity as the years passed. Unfortunately, their peace was not to last.
"He's here," Faramir suddenly said quietly, worry reflecting in is eyes as he looked to his brother..
"What?" Boromir asked, concern shadowing his face.
"He's here," Faramir repeated.
Turning around to see who Faramir spoke of, Boromir's face fell at the sight in front of him.
"One moment of peace, can he not give us that?" he muttered in exasperation, looking at Faramir and Finduireth to ensure they were not troubled. Finduireth impulsively pulled away from him, taking up her position next to Faramir, her hand grasping her drink so firmly, her knuckles turned white. No one proved in the mood to deal with such an interruption.
Making his way through the crowd of excited men, Denethor, Gondor's Steward, shook his soldiers' hands with distracted delight.
"Where is he? Where is Gondor's finest? Where is my first-born?" he said, making his way through the crowd. His face fully lit up as he caught sight of Boromir and approached.
Steeling himself and taking a deep breath, Boromir put a smile on his face.
"Father!" he called, arms outstretched in greeting.
Reaching his son, Denethor quickly grabbed him into a hug.
"They say you vanquished the enemy almost single handed," he said joyfully.
"They exaggerate," Boromir replied carelessly. "The victory belongs to Faramir also," he said gladly, pulling out of his father's grasp and motioning for Faramir to come forward. Faramir did so, letting go of his cousin's hand, causing her steal back further from the reunion.
"But for Faramir, this city would still be standing," Denethor said, with a barely concealed sneer quickly replacing his previous smile. "Were you not entrusted to protect it?" he continued, face filling with displeasure.
"I would have done it, but our numbers were too few." Faramir said, eyes marked with hope as he attempted to explain.
"Oh, too few," Denethor continued with disdain. "You let the enemy walk in and take it on a whim." Faramir's face fell as Denethor continued, ignoring his son's reaction. "Always, you cast a poor reflection on me."
"That is not my intent," Faramir said slowly, struggling to keep his voice calm.
"At least you deem him worthy enough to cast any reflection at all," Finduireth muttered, eyes flashing with anger. "He does as you wishes, yet you give him no tribute. What more must he do to reflect on one so apparently great?" she countered derisively, voice laced with similar disdain uncannily like her uncle's as she reproached the Steward before she caught herself, realizing she was completely out of line, especially given the public place. She should have known better than to act like a petulant, spoiled child.
Denethor turned to her direction, startled at seeing her for the first time. Quickly bringing himself under control, he narrowed his eyes at her in contempt, quickly turning his back on her, shutting her out. She looked at his back to her, pain etched on her face. Eyes watering with unshed tears, she opened her mouth open as though she would call out. But suddenly, as though thinking the better of it, her mouth closed tightly, eyes burning, though with tears of sorrow or anger at her own irresponsible outburst at her uncle for showing him such disrespect, she did not know. Shakily and wordlessly curtsying to Denethor, body stiff as she tried to keep her emotions restrained, she rose and quickly turned. Giving a wordless kiss on the cheek to first Faramir and then Boromir, she walked away. Boromir flinched, distressed to see his cousin in such a state, resolving to find and comfort her injured pride. But more pressing insults needed reversal at the moment.
"You give him no credit, and yet he tries to do your will. He loves you, father!" Boromir said, voice cutting through the tension as he walked away from his father and into the stony ruins of the building next to them.
"Do not trouble me with Faramir" Denethor countered with contempt, following his eldest into the ruined structure "…I know his uses and they are few. We have more urgent things to speak of," he said dropping his voice and approaching his son so that he could be heard. Boromir looked at him in confusion as the Steward continued.
"Elrond of Rivendell has called a meeting. He will not say why, but I have guessed its purpose." Denethor continued, lowering his voice further. "It is rumored that the weapon of the enemy has been found," he said emphatically.
Boromir looked at him with wide eyes, emotions of numerous kind stirring in his heart, for that such a thing had come to pass lay beyond belief.
"The One Ring…Isildur's Bane," he whispered, as though to say it aloud would make it untrue.
"It has fallen into the hands of the Elves," Denethor continued, his grip tightening on his son's arm. "Everyone will try to claim it: Men, Dwarves, wizards. We cannot let that happen. This thing must come to Gondor."
"Gondor?" Boromir said with great apprehension.
"It's dangerous, I know," Denethor replied with renewed vigor, his eyes alight at the prospect that such a thing would ensue. "Ever the Ring will seek to corrupt the hearts of lesser men. But you, you are strong. And our need is great."
"It is our blood which is being spilt, our people who are dying," he continued vehemently, voice lowering to just barely above a whisper. "Sauron is biding his time. He's massing fresh armies. He will return. And when he does, we will be powerless to stop him. You must go. Bring me back this mighty gift."
Boromir looked at his father anew, foreboding in his heart as he looked into the Steward's eyes, which were alight with a fire hereto unseen. It was as though Denethor aged before his very eyes, suddenly become very old, possessed with mechanizations of power and the glory of Gondor.
The glory of Gondor. That is what Boromir sought, what he and his brother and cousin had spent their lives pursuing, though his father had slowly refused to see their parts in such a thing over the years, something which troubled him greatly, for such changes in his father were bizarre and dark, making less and less sense as time stretched on. What good could it to for him to leave now? Leave his men dangling on the precipice between glory and defeat? For while they had reclaimed Osgiliath, the battle was not yet won. There was still much to do, enemies to overcome, cities to rebuilt, Gondor to repair and bring back to glory days of old. No, he could not to go to such a council, based only rumor and whispers, filled with the races quarrelling and covetous for power. Pulling himself from his father's grasp, he turned his back on the Steward, leaving the ruined building to be outside with his men.
"No. My place is here with my people. Not in Rivendell," Boromir forcefully said. Yes, he had to remain for his people. For his brother and cousin.
"Would you deny your own father?!" Denethor all but shouted, quickly catching up to him. Having heard his brother, Faramir walked up to where they stood, but hung back against the wall, offering what he saw as the solution to such a problem.
"If there is need to go to Rivendell…send me in his stead…" he calmly addressed his father. Denethor's eyes quickly fell on his second son, a smirk on his lips.
"You?" he said scathingly. "Oh, I see. A chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to show his quality?" He snorted with derision at the concept. "I think not," he continued, looking to Boromir. "I trust this mission only to your brother. The one who will not fail me."
Boromir turned to face his father as Faramir's face fell. And so it was decided. It would be, Boromir, Captain of the White Tower, who would make the trip to Rivendell, his fortune yet to be seen.