December 20, 3001

The turn of a new year approaches quickly and i am glad to be called home for the celebration... though i can not help but think that other companies not lead by the heir to the Steward are not so fortunate. Still, home is home and i shall not argue father this time.

He and Faramir are still at odds... as they ever shall be i imagine. It breaks my heart that we can not be a family because of whatever resentment father harbors. Sometimes i think it can not be true, the reason he gave me years ago. And yet, even if it is, i can not comprehend it still affecting father as it does (i don't care if he is the son of the King himself, the only thing he is to me is the best friend and brother i can imagine having). Most likely it is that accursed globe that he turns to for comfort now. Father is vulnerable enough, the gods know the Stewardship is a dreadful burden for any man to bear, and though he seems to think it makes him stronger, every time he's been using it i can tell, for he looks so much more weary. How much longer can his rule last at this rate?

If only he would seek comfort in Faramir instead. Fara' is more than capable of aiding him with his office, even for a lad of his age. I wish i could gift my heir status to my little brother - if anyone should inherit the Stewardship, it is he. Faramir is perfect for the job. As for i... should the King ever decide to grace us with his royal presence after all these years, were i to be his Steward, he should likely have me assassinated before my first week was out. Faramir even has the gift of diplomacy for the job. I'd be as like to argue with the King as i would be father.

Father as well as pretended Faramir did not even exist at my welcoming dinner last night. And every time i tried to talk to my brother, father would interrupt and start another discussion with me. Faramir is too good; he suffers it all so stoically. How many times have i told him to stand up for himself, but he seems to think that would do more harm than good and just does whatever father tells him to do anyhow. Sometimes i think that if father ordered Faramir to go and personally map Mordor for him, the lad would bow and go to pack spare parchment.

Enough about father though. I could see as plain as anything how much Faramir had missed me, it looked to be even more than i had missed him (if such a thing is possible). So after father excused us from dinner i took Fara' under the arm and dragged him down to the Merry Widow for a drink away from the old mule... that's Steward Mule to me, i suppose - i may be his son, but i am also a Captain under his command. Well, i had promised a few certain lasses in the employ of said reputable establishment that i would visit as soon as i got back home anyway, and Boromir of Gondor never breaks a promise sworn!

Imma' found me almost as soon as we walked in, as she always does. Several others came and went for a while, but i had difficulty paying much attention to them. I feel rather guilty now, realizing that that also meant i didn't pay much attention to Fara'. I could see him getting bored, staring at his ale as though he expected it to strike up a conversation with him. Had he just glanced up he might have noticed that more than one of the barmaids had their eyes on him. Fara' is every bit the image of mother and she was a beautifully radiant woman.

After a while i could no longer bear with both Imma' being beside me in the suffocating crowd of the tavern, as well as my brother looking so lonely. I nudged - who was she again? Saereth, perhaps? - and slipped her a coin and a nod toward Faramir. I have to admit it was as much to get her off my arm as to get Fara' to come out of whatever ages-old tale he was pondering this time. I had to wonder if my little brother even knew what women are for, but i did not dwell on that much... i do know and once we got upstairs it was all i could do to constrain myself until Imma' locked the door behind us....

I feel like such an idiot sitting here and writing these things in a book as though i am just making out a report on my company. This feels so unnatural to me, but Faramir does this every day, loyally, and he tells me that it is a good way to come to terms with all the things that happen in my life. The gods know i need to do that - i never before realized how much pressure there would be on me, just because i am Denethor's son. If Fara' does this every day it must have some good to it. He needs this more than i do, by a long stretch.

I just wish i knew how to get father to ease up on him. If anything ever happens to him out there in that margin they call Ithilien i won't know what to do with my life. I'll never forgive myself, that is sure.

Who am i even writing this to? It feels like i am composing a letter to a friend, and i had thought that i would end up writing things down the same as i talk to some of my soldiers, or to Fara' or Imma', yet now it seems to me that there are some things written here that i wouldn't speak of aloud to another. Maybe this is why my little brother loves words so - certainly a man can not express his thoughts to a sword. Then again, when i am in battle i rarely need to express my thoughts with anything but a parry or a thrust.

Likely i will only keep this book when i am home, else wise it would bore any reader, whoever that reader may be.... It had best not ever be Fara' unless he lets me read his or am i dead and gone first. I would never hear the end of it and i HATE admitting defeat or emotion. Actually, this book will likely be terrifically boring even when i am home. When i am away all i do is take my soldiers out for an orc fight or two. When i come home all i do is try to spend time with my brother, but always father has to get to me first. It's as though he does not even want me to associate with my brother. Damn him for it.

Well, i have had enough of this. I need to engage Faramir's steel as payback for getting me to do this.

Faramir sat stunned of what he had just read from Boromir's own hand. It was not that he had ever exactly been unaware of these things in any way, but to see them in his own brother's words suddenly meant more than Faramir could have ever guessed. He remembered so clearly what it had been like when Boromir would come home, they were the best of friends, besides being devoted brothers. There was a beautiful ache in Faramir's heart at these memories and he could not put the journal down had he tried. This was almost like having Boromir back again.

Faramir leafed through, stopping randomly a few pages further on.

February 6, 3002

This morning i learned that my company would be departing the City in another two week's time. Two months home again has been very renewing, if not entirely restful. Being home is never all i dream it is when i am away. It seems being outside Minas Tirith's walls makes me forget the trials within.

Father has been increasingly hard on Faramir, and though it is most likely because the Grey Pilgrim has been to visit our libraries again, i still can not think that justifies some of the things i have "accidentally" overheard. I was talking with one of the new Citadel Guards, who i believe is a friend of Faramir's, i can not recollect the lad's name... it might be Beren. Well, that is inconsequential. Father was having a "discussion" with Faramir as i was leaving the Tower buttery and he was extraordinarily livid that Faramir had aided Mithrandir with some research concerning Isildur. I do not understand father, does he seriously think that aged wizard means to supplant him?

I do not know how or why Faramir stands his ground as he does. It seems as though father says things that he knows will hurt Faramir to hear, and were i my brother i would have walked away from that, but not before i told father what i thought as well. For some reason father suffers my reactions so, and i know it has caused me to be far too overconfident with him, but no one else, none of my men, seem to mind that. I guess they expect the Steward's heir to be arrogant as his father.

My sword must feel dreadfully neglected, i have only managed to engage a few spars this time home. I will miss my little brother terribly, and i beg the gods that he will manage to stay out of trouble with father, somehow, but i can not say i will not be glad to be away again. Our uncle has been having some difficulty in the south it seems. Damned Haradrim again, filthy bastards, as bad as orcs - worse really, for they too are Men, whereas Faramir tells me that orcs were bred from - of all the things - corrupted Elves! My company will put a stop to them, Dol Amroth may rest assured of that.

Strange thing... i went to the Widow this evening, i wanted to tell Imma' that i would be leaving in a couple weeks, but i was told that she was not there. I can not imagine where she would go, for she has told me that she is alone in the city. I do not know why, but i fear for her. She has not been herself the last few months and i was starting to get suspicious that someone was mistreating her. I'd break the neck of the man who dared lay an ill hand on my Imloth. Despite what Fara' thinks about my habits with tavern women (he had it out with me the day after i sent him off with... Sirdeth?), i do know how to treat a woman.

What i do not understand is her behavior. She assured me that all was well a couple of weeks ago when i first noticed her acting strangely. When i saw her a few nights ago, she told me that she was not feeling well. I wanted to take her to the healers down in the Houses, but she would not have it. There have even been a few nights that she has been so unwell as to refuse me. I still left her my coin of course, i was honestly happy enough just to talk with her for a while away from the crowd. What i feared was that her other customers might not be so understanding.

I hope i see her again before i must depart. Now this must remain an utter secret - i dare not think to tell even Fara' - but since coming home last year, i begin to wonder... I have felt strange things, strange stirrings, when i am around Imma', such that i had once thought were but figments of myths. I, Boromir of Gondor, just might have had my armor pierced by a tavern trollop. If only these were better times and Osgiliath the thriving city i have heard it once was, instead of the military stronghold it serves as now, i would be so very tempted to take Imloth to wife and make myself a home there.

I can see the look on father's face already. He'd make a gelding of me before allowing me to marry a whore. I have spent too much time at home, i am starting to want a real family of my own and that thought frightens me more than the Black Gates of Mordor. If only i could have a family as well as a captaincy. Should i ever live to see the end of the perpetual battles we wage, then i might consent to marriage. I will need an heir one day, after all, and i should be all the happier to have him with the disposition of Imma' - if it must be done, for the good of Gondor, who am i, a lowly Captain in the service of the mighty Steward, to be derelict in my duty....

May this serve as my official declaration, never to be seen by Mortal eyes as long as i still have a voice to protest with:

I, Boromir the Second, heir of Denethor, 26th Ruling Steward of Gondor, do love Imloth of Lossarnach!

True to form as ever, Boromir still had the ability to make his little brother laugh and cry at the same time. Faramir had never been so grateful as when his father found him there in the library and came to sit quietly beside his son as he trembled wept of missing his dear brother, finally having a chance to expel the long-buried tears of grief that Faramirthought sure were long since beyond recall.

---

linda: Who can say how Eomer will react? Though i am inclined to believe that he will understand better now. This is the first chance Faramir has actually had to grieve for Boromir.

Elenhin: I agree, Eomer could definitely inflict pain without leaving much evidence... however so too could Faramir. Actually, i would think Faramir, as a Ranger,would have that skill more than Eomer. I think Bor's journal is pretty interesting... i am wondering about the mouse army though. That could be a plot bunny waiting to spring on me.