Author's note: Thank you to all who have read this far, and I hope that chapter 9 won't disappoint you! We decided to go for a bit of a lighter setting since the previous few chapters were so grim, so we've jumped ahead a few months to winter in Gondor. Boromir and Faramir have fun in the snow, snowballs and all of that good stuff.

If sibcest squicks you, DON'T READ ANY FURTHER. Flames are not welcome and not appreciated. We do, however, absolutely adore nice comments and constructive criticism. They help us make the story better for you so that you enjoy more what we read!

Please drop my co-author a line at jholsh1@towson.edu

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It seemed as though winter in Gondor had been especially designed for the white city of Minas Tirith. Frost covered the vast planes of Pelennor and clung to the eaves and gables of the city like sparkling jewels of the finest cut. In order to stay the chill that would linger in the stone- walled rooms and drafty halls, the Steward would often throw parties with roaring fires and enough mead for all that would last long into the night. Unlike the northern realms of the elves, winter seemed to be the time for lovers in the kingdom of men; a stolen kiss under the snow between two young paramours, or a promenade through the garden to look at the icy lace fringing the flowers that somehow managed to survive the harsh weather were always much welcomed by its citizens.

It was Boromir's favorite time of the year, and it brought a small smile to face to see the last months of summer die away into the brief autumn until finally yielding to wintertime in what seemed like the blink of an eye. The townsfolk had been gossiping about an impending snowfall, and sure enough, the sun rose to a field of white where the Pelennor were once lush and green.

He had risen early, which as a rare occurrence for him when he was not away on an expedition, and stepped out onto the battlement near his bedchamber while still wearing his nightclothes and a sumptuous pelt. He breathed deeply, inhaling the chill in the air which invigorated the senses and immediately jarred one awake, making them feel thankful to be alive and able to see such an indescribably beautiful winter dawn.

Finally, the coldness of the stone floor penetrated his toes and he had to go back inside to warm up. As he dressed himself in front of the still- burning fire that lay in the shallow hearth on one wall of his room, an idea came to him. Swiftly, he donned his warmest leggings and several shirts, along with a pair of newly cobbled boots and a fur-lined cloak. Ruffling his hair with his hand, he sallied forth and quickly went to the nearest storehouse.

Boromir did his best to balance the tray of food in one hand while using the other to jimmy open the door to Faramir's room. After several moments of exasperated curses, the door creaked open and he slipped in past the entrance, shutting the door behind him. The room was still dark, and smoke hung up around the rafters from the dying embers of a fire in the corner. Faramir was no more than a small lump under the heavy blankets, snoring quietly. With at little noise as possible, Boromir traversed the room to where his brother was sleeping and whispered, "Wake up, little one..."

Faramir groaned lightly and shifted under the thick blankets, swatting at the whispering in his ear. He mumbled something incoherent and buried his face in the thin pillow. Grinning impishly, Boromir carefully set the food- laden tray and crouched next to the bed. "It's time to wake up, rosebud," he whispered in Faramir's ear one more time before abruptly ripping the sheets off of the bed.

Faramir automatically curled up into a small ball, pulling his knees up to his chest in an attempt to stay the draft in the room. Groping blindly, he reached for the blankets. After several minutes of searching, he was finally roused from his deep sleep, his eyes opening and looking around the room blearily to see where his blankets had gone. A smile slowly spread across his face when his gaze fell on Boromir and his coltish grin. "Good morning," he said, his voice hoarse from sleep.

Boromir grinned in return, his smile lighting up his entire face. "Good morning. I brought you something." He reached for the tray of food that he had placed next to him on the floor. It contained several slices of fluffy white bread, fresh out of the oven, along with a dollop of butter and some warm milk. He had even gone so far as to search for the last of the dried raspberries from the harvest earlier in the year - he knew Faramir loved raspberries. //I hope he likes this...// he thought.

Boromir lifted the plate of food and rose along with it before settling down on the edge of Faramir's mattress. Almost timidly, he offered the food to his brother as a look expectancy for praise sparkled in his turquoise eyes.

Faramir sat himself up in the bed, looking down at the breakfast curiously.
"What is all of this, Boromir?" he asked, sniffling. He rubbed his red- tipped nose with the back of his bony hand and blinked several times, wondering if the plate of food in front of him was a mirage. "Did you bring me breakfast?"

Boromir nodded enthusiastically and stated in a proud voice "Yes! I got up early so that I could bring it to you in bed, so that you wouldn't have to freeze to death!" He pushed the tray further to Faramir's folded legs. To Faramir, his big brother seemed like a little boy eager to please as he beamed at him. "I wouldn't want to have an icicle for a brother," Boromir added with a wink.

Faramir gave Boromir one of his sunny smiles, the corner of his eyes crinkling. Bringing one hand to Boromir's cheeks, he pulled his brother closer by just the touch of his fingertips. Bringing his lips forward, Faramir kissed Boromir sweetly, shutting out everything but the feel of his brother's lips for just one minute. Satisfied, he pulled away, and said, "Thank you. You didn't have to go through so much--Are those raspberries!?" His eyes lit up at the sight of his favorite fruit, and he picked one up excitedly. "I thought there were no more left!"

Boromir felt a familiar warmth pooling inside of him from the kiss, and if at all possible, his smile broadened. "Yes! Those are indeed raspberries!" He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, as if one of the store keepers was around eavesdropping. "I searched everywhere for them, and I decided to bring you the very last of the harvest." It was all Boromir could do to keep his elation bottled up; seeing his brother's face brighten at the proffering of food was enough to make him want to sing and jump from rooftop to rooftop. "Eat, eat!" he urged good-naturedly.

Faramir popped the small red fruit in his mouth, his lips curling upward as he enjoyed the sweet but tangy taste of the raspberry. "It's delicious!" he declared. He picked another raspberry up from the plate and held it out to Boromir. "Would you like one?"

Boromir raised his hands in polite refusal. "Nay, but thank you. Their flavor makes my face pucker up and my nose twitch," he said as his cheeks colored slightly out of embarrassment. "Go on and indulge." He chose to rest his hand on Faramir's knee as the two faced each other in the middle of the mattress, tapping his fingers to a mental beat. //He's eating, I can't believe it//. Boromir inwardly congratulated himself on his success, convinced that he was, by far, the best brother anyone could have. Faramir continued to scarf down the fruit, relishing every last drop of juice still present in the berries. He looked so innocent, so childlike, with his pink- tipped nose and rosy cheeks and mussed chestnut hair. Boromir wanted to kiss him, as the heat culling in the pit of his stomach was not going away, but he settled for watching Faramir with fond eyes.

Faramir licked his fingers clean, satisfied by the refreshing fruit that he had eaten. "What a wonderful way to wake up," he effervesced. Ignoring the bread and butter, he set the plate aside and crawled closer to Boromir, catching him again in a raspberry-flavored kiss. "Is there anything else to this breakfast other than the fruit?"

Boromir licked his lips and his tongue tingled with the flavor of raspberries there. "There's bread," he said before kissing Faramir in return, full on the lips. "And butter to go with it." Another kiss, but this time Boromir's tongue slithered out and raked over Faramir's teeth as his brought a hand around to cradle the back of Faramir's head. "You don't want any?" he asked, voice growing ever more hoarse as his leggings became tighter.

"I'm completely full," he murmured, laying back on the bed and pulling Boromir on top of him. "I'm ready for dessert," he purred. Closing the remaining distance between him and Boromir, he kissed him again, pushing his tongue into the warm mouth. Stroking Boromir's tongue with his own, Faramir moaned lightly into Boromir's mouth.

"Dessert..." was all Boromir could say as his body was quickly taking over control of his actions. With deft fingers he undid the lacings around the collar of his outer shirt before leaning back down to suck Faramir's tongue into his mouth and take in the tangy sweet taste of the fruit still lingering in his brother's mouth. A slight upward push from Faramir's hips sent shivers coursing through Boromir's taut body, and his shuddered at the contact which caused him to deepen the kiss. A moan into his mouth from Faramir caused their tongues to vibrate against each other. Resistance all but disintegrated, Boromir boldly began to drag his lips downward to the sensitive skin of Faramir's neck and chest.

Giving a shuddering sigh, Faramir's head fell to the side to further expose his neck to Boromir. His back arched slightly off of the bed as Boromir's lips brushed against a sensitive spot on his prominent collarbone. His eyes flew open in excitement as he started to drag his tongue slowly past the loose neckline of his dressing gown; he glanced out the window, his eyes clouded with desire, but still taking in the white snow that silently fell. And then his boyish nature took over. "Boromir!" he cried, sliding out from under him quickly. He leapt out of the bed, tripping over his oversized nightclothes in his haste to get to the window. "Snow! Look!" He looked out in glee at the fresh blanket of snow that had covered the white tiers of Minas Tirith.

Boromir nearly cried aloud as he was left sprawled in the middle of the bed, groping about for Faramir's body but coming up with nothing but a corner of a blanket in his hands. His body twitching and unsated, he reluctantly turned on his side and tried to look as alluring as possible in hopes that Faramir would come back. "Yes, it is. First snow of the season... Aren't you cold?" Boromir asked, lazily tracing circles on the mattress with the tip of his forefinger. He raked his gaze over Faramir's slender form outlined in the early morning sunshine showing through the folds of fabric hanging off of his body. "Come back..." he said, wheedling.

"There must have been six inches at least that fell last night! Faramir whirled around to face Boromir, his eyes alight with a childlike glee. "Can we go out and play in it?" He rushed over to his chest oak chest, threw open the lid, and started tossing clothing across the room, looking for his warmest outfit. Hopping around, he tugged two pairs of leggings, then tossed off his nightgown, ignoring the cold that permeated the room despite the roaring fire. "Will you come?" he asked excitedly.

//Will I come? No, not this time,// Boromir thought bitterly. But, quelling the unsatisfied yearnings wracking his body, he slowly sat up and tied his collar again before smoothing down the hair that had become messy. He yawned hugely, feigning great disinclination to go and traipse through the snow, and said "'Course I'll come, Faramir. That's why I came to wake you..."

"Good! It must be deliciously cold out there!" He pulled on several heavy shirts, then one of Boromir's old tunics. After cinching a belt around his layers of clothing, Faramir yanked on his heavy boots. Bounding over to Boromir, he gave him a quick kiss before scurrying out of the room. He came back not three seconds later though, snatched up his brown cloak, and then disappeared again, calling, "I'll meet you outside!"

Boromir stood up, stretching his limbs and shaking the lust that blurred his senses. Suddenly, unbidden thoughts of the woman from his homecoming feast flooded his memory -- Lindorie, was it? -- and he shuddered all the way down to the tips of his toes. Faramir's laughter from outside hurled him back into reality, though, and he followed his brother out the door with his weatherworn but warm cloak wrapped around his shoulders. A smile came to his face again and the falling snowflakes gathered in white clumps on his head and whiskers.

He found Faramir just outside the gates of the city, cavorting in the soft snow as though he were five years old again. His hood had fallen back off of his head from the stiff wind that blew through the fields of Pelennor. His face lit up when he saw Boromir, and he picked up a large clump of snow, tossing it up into the air and spinning around as he fell back down to him, coating his body in white.

Moved by Faramir's boyishness and feeling the part of him still clung to by childhood, Boromir scooped up a large handful of the fresh snow and balled it up into a particularly fierce-looking snowball. While Faramir's back was turned, he wound up his arm to throw, releasing the clump of powder from his grip and sending it hurtling into the back of Faramir's head where it broke to white smithereens. "Got you!" Boromir cackled triumphantly before dashing off as quickly as possible before Faramir could retaliate. He gathered up another lump of snow and prepared to totally annihilate Faramir with the most epic snowball attack Minas Tirith had ever seen.

Faramir, meanwhile, had the same exact plan for Boromir. He quickly made two sizeable snowballs and took off in the snow after. His light, lithe form made it easy for him to bound through the white blanket that covered the ground, and he soon overtook his brother. Darting up to him, Faramir took the opportunity as Boromir was distracted by the artillery of snow he was forming, and he let out a loud "HA!" Boromir lifted his head, surprised, and Faramir took the opportunity to heave the snowball straight into Boromir's face, causing the older man to splutter and fall backward. Laughing merrily, Faramir sprinted away again before Boromir could recover himself.

"You'll regret that, Faramir!" Boromir boomed with a laugh. Shaking the snow out of his eyes he dug himself out of the snowy trench his weight had formed around him. His cloak was getting wet from the snow melting on it, and it slowed him down as he chased Faramir down, a hefty snowball in each hand. Faramir leapt around like a will o' the wisp and was laughing so gleefully that he did not see the two massive clumps of snow as they careened towards him, one hitting his chest and the other square on his head. Before he could react, Boromir was on him, pushing him down in the drift of snow as he fingers jabbed him in the ribs.

Faramir let out a loud yelp as he fell backward into the soft pillow of snow, holding his arm out at the last minute to keep from crushing his well- sculpted snowball. "Stop, Boromir!" he laughed, thrashing about as Boromir's fingers tickled his sides, tormenting him. His feet sent snow flying into the air as he kicked in an attempt to remove himself from under Boromir. In a last effort to stop the tickling, he took his remaining snowball and jammed it down Boromir's heavy shirt.

Boromir reeled backwards and clawed at his shirt where the snow was rapidly melting against his warm chest, flowing in torrents down to the waist of his leggings and chilling him through and through. He frowned stormily and shot Faramir a caustic look, saying "That was a dirty trick, Faramir." He wrapped his dampened cloak around him and huddled up in the snow, pouting.

Faramir remained lying in the snow, giving Boromir a look of wide-eyed innocence, though he could hardly keep the dancing mirth out of his eyes. "What? It was self-defense! Aren't you always telling me, my dear brother, that I should defend myself more?"

Boromir gave him a roguish grin, the kind that always made him look his most handsome. "Yes, you're right. Well done!" he said. Eyes sweeping over Faramir's trim form framed by white on all sides, Boromir felt himself warm up a little bit. "I'll forget about the ruthlessness of the attack if you come and give me a kiss." His lips curled into a coy smirk and his eyebrows raised slightly on the ends, making him look like the definitive picture of an overgrown child who just can't keep himself from pulling pranks and practical jokes despite his age.

The corner of Faramir's mouth lifted at the warm smile his brother was giving him, completely missing the mischief written all over his face. He looked around at the bed of snow he was nestled in, feigned an attempt to stand, and gave up. "I'm afraid I'm stuck. You may have to come back down here." He felt his cloak and raiment becoming soaked and heavy with the melting snow, but it could matter less to him. After missing their playful snow antics last winter while Boromir was away, he would not give this chance up for anything in the world.

Boromir crawled slowly over to Faramir, huffing and puffing the whole way. His garments were soaking and doing very little to keep the biting wind from nipping his wet skin like a thousand knives cutting into him. Finally, he got as close as a few inches from where Faramir lay and he stopped and let himself collapse in the snow. "I can't go much further..." A chill pang sliced through him as a gust up wind sprang up, sending shimmering flakes of snow up from the ground into wispy clouds. His teeth chattered and his cheeks were reddened, along with his nose, and he managed to inch a little bit further so that he was lying up against Faramir.

"Oh, my poor Boromir!" he declared, wrapping his snow-heavy arms around his brother's body. "Are you cold? Shall I warm you?" Faramir kissed his brother's cheery-colored cheeks, then the reddened tip of his nose that mirrored his own. His own lips were blue with cold, and his back had started to go numb from the frigid snow that permeated his cloak, but still he ignored them, having all of the warmth he needed just by having Boromir in his arms.

Teeth still clicking together as the cold dug deeper into his appendages, Boromir uttered thinly "Perhaps we ss-sshould gg-go back in, Ff-ff- aramirrr."

"But the snow! You can't be cold yet!" he said, though a violent shiver ran through his body. "We still have more snowballs to throw!" He rubbed his nose against Boromir's in an attempt to warm his face. "Just a little bit longer?"

Boromir grinned amiably and acquiesced, despite the fierce numbness pervading his fingers and toes, along with his nose. "All right.. just a little bit longer..." He left a chaste kiss on Faramir's red nose and plopped a fistful of snow onto his brother's head before pulling the hood down, covering Faramir's face down to his chin.

Faramir burst into loud laughter. "What are you doing?" he asked, yanking at his hood that Boromir had firmly wrenched over his head. His face scrunched up under the garment, frozen immediately from the bitter cold of the white powder.

"Giving you a taste of your own medicine! Bitter, isn't it?" Boromir chuckled good-naturedly. After Faramir tried unsuccessfully several times at wrenching his hood from Boromir's ironlike grasp, Boromir righted the garment and ruffled his hand through Faramir's hair, effectively ridding the sandy waves from the stray bits of snow there. Gently, as if he were dressing a small child, he secured the hood over Faramir's head and positioned the cowl so that it framed Faramir's face with warmth. "There," he stated proudly, "All better." A quick kiss on his lips swiftly removed the scowl that temporarily smeared across Faramir's features.

"That wasn't fair!" he protested, "You're a great big brute of a bully!" Faramir's lips returned to a pout after Boromir's mouth disappeared, his face still stinging from the snow. He sniffled, his nose scrunching, giving Boromir the most pathetic look that he could manage. However, he caught Boromir's hand as he started to remove it and held it fast. Removing Boromir's heavy glove, Faramir pressed Boromir's hand to his cheek, closing his eyes momentarily. "I'm warmer now," he said softly.

Boromir leaned forward, his breath forming misty clouds between them as the moisture in it condensed into water droplets. He kept his hand on Faramir's cheek and gently massaged the smooth skin with his fingertips, feeling a bit of warmth permeate his otherwise numbed frame. "Me too," he whispered.

TBC...