Disclaimer: All characters, places, things, hobbits and everything in between belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien

Chapter 2: Voicing

Boromir twisted around with such speed his attacker did not have the time to even cry out. The sword came down in an arc, missing the man's shoulder by only a hair strand. His attacker jumped back as Boromir stood up and began to advance, sword in hand.

'Who are you?' Boromir asked, before Faramir had a chance to tell his brother that it was he.

'Boromir-'

'How do you know my name? Who are you? What business do you have here in such a place?'

Faramir began to reach into his pocket to pull out the emerald rock Boromir had given to him only a few days before…

'Remember today, little brother.' He said sadly, turned and rode away. A breeze blew through the city tossing the banners and flags of Gondor in an arbitrary pattern of flight. The gold flickered in the sunlight, illuminating brightly against the black background of the banner. Faramir looked up, eyes full of sorrow, staring at the gold crest of Gondor for a long while.

'Captain Faramir!' A lone voice cried out, echoing throughout the empty city walls.

Faramir turned around to see Arathil running towards him. The Ranger was breathing hard when we reached Faramir, as if he had run to Minas Tirith and back again, which was, of course, no short distance.

'What is it, soldier?'

The man began to breath easier and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. The grime from his shirt smeared, taking the shape of the pattern of a long river, snaking its way from his brow to his dark hair. The Ranger took no notice and starting searching his pockets.

'I saw Captain Boromir coming out of the city, riding on his horse with bags and food on the saddles. I bowed my head and he saw me, with the other Rangers, celebrating and drinking, of which I knew he should have been doing but was not, and he beckoned me to come over to him.' The man paused and took something out of his pocket. It was a stone, of a rather small stature. It was round; almost a perfect sphere except for one dent within the surface where it looked that something had been smashed against it. A sword, an axe, perhaps another stone? Faramir was not too know but he did not dwell on the thought.

He took the stone out of Arathil's hand and gazed at it. To deeper inspection he saw it was not a stone at all, it was a gem, a very rare gem, only found in the deep parts of the White Mountains where caves ran their courses and men still dug for the deep riches within them. It was an Emerald, dark green with white splashed upon the surface. But what intrigued Faramir the most was the fingernail thin line of black that ran around the stone. It looked almost like a small river, running against the cold green.

'He said to me, 'Give this to my brother and tell him to keep it close to his heart.' He handed me this stone and rode off faster than I could say a farewell to him.' He paused and looked at the stone. 'May I ask, sir, what was Captain Boromir so needed for?'

Faramir looked up, his eyes grim.

'I am sorry, sir, I was out of place to ask—.'

'No, Arathil, it is all right. I was only thinking of why my brother was sent upon this errand. He was sent to Rivendell for a council. The Steward will tell me no more and Captain Boromir left too quickly for me to query.' He paused, the pain of his brother leaving washed over him again and he closed his eyes.

Their parting had been short but sorrowful and now he was left alone, the one of the two Captains left to defend Gondor from the Shadow that grew. There was nothing to do but to wait and hear word from Boromir of how the council went and what was planned. But that would take weeks! Faramir thought sadly. Maybe even months.

And how many months would it take for Osgiliath or even Minas Tirith to fall. Not even one. It would take perhaps a battle of two days for the Enemy to control all of the lands West of Rohan. The thought of sending a messenger had more than once crossed his mind, but he did not have the authority needed to send such a message of helplessness.

Nor could he light the beacons of Gondor. His father would not allow it.

There was the chance of overcoming Boromir before he reached Imladris and asking him to come back. Telling him which was more important? Defending his country or going to a council to discuss matters that would take many weeks to come to an agreement, maybe longer. And how many men would die in those undecided weeks? 400? 500? And how much more of Osgiliath would be overtaken?

Faramir knew he was a strong Captain and leader but his older, wiser brother was a better strategist and more capable at making decisions within a moments time. Now, at what will become Man's darkest hour, he, they, needed a leader whose skills could triumph over all the evil that festered in this world. That leader, that man, was Boromir.

Author's Note: Is a Captain higher or lower in rank than a Lieutenant? What do you think? Read and Review! As always, insults and criticism will be used to compliment the Dark Lord.