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

Chapter 4: Chasing and Found

Faramir woke suddenly to the cry of a bird off in the sky. He blinked and the world around him blurred into a mist of greens and blues. He shut his eyes for a moment to get his bearings. In the darkness, he could hear the stomp of his horse's feet trotting on the grassy plain. Where was he? His mind was full of fallacy and confusion. He finally peeled back his heavy eyes lids to the sight of his horse's neck. The horse's thick mane rubbed against his cheek, making a painful rash. He would need a good brush and wash to clean this mane.

'Although, my hair must look the same.' He thought and sat up. He immediately regretted it though. The muscles on his back screamed with pain from leaning forward all night. Well, perhaps not all night. Nevertheless, a few hours on the back of a horse, asleep for that matter, would make anybody's back sore. He grunted slightly and bent his back and shoulders backwards to try to untie the knot. Easing back to his sitting posture, he looked around to see where he was, wondering why he was not dead yet. Surely, his horse would have wanted to dump him in some river near by to drown him. That would surely ease both of their pains in their backs. He grinned slightly at his thoughts, but only to groan again at his aching back.

'Well there's no use lamenting over it.' He thought bitterly.

The country around him had changed little from what he had ridden through the night before. The grass was taller and lofty and more trees dotted the area. Some of the branches reached so far from their roots; Faramir wondered if even a bird landed on one, it would break off. They seemed so thin and brittle. Perfect for firewood. Rain fell in these areas during the summer months, but it was seldom. The branches must be dry enough to make a fire, even a small blaze. Later tonight, he would see how valuable these trees could be.

The sun had barely risen from its home, making Faramir sigh in relief. At least he had not slept into the day. That was his greatest fear at this time. To be caught, unguarded, unwary which were the only defenses in these dark times. Turning his back on the sun, he rode onward.

When the sun was resting mid way in the sky, Faramir decided to finally rest. His back had been aching all day and he was famished. He was used to the feeling of gnawing hunger in his stomach, he had had it many nights before, when dodging arrows and fighting fiends had been more urgent. Yet, he usually found some time to eat a piece of stale bread or drink from his flask before moving on with his orders.

When he was but twenty summers old, only a year in the military, one of his prerequisites to move onto an upper, more superior stratum had been to live in Emyn Arnel for a fortnight without any food nor water. He, along with a few other training soldiers had had their camp made by a small stream, with mosses and berry bushes grown around it. He remembered his brother, Boromir had been there to make sure none of the men ate anything and only had their serving of water for the day. The first three nights had been unbearable for Faramir. He was not used to the aching feeling of hunger within his stomach. Ever and anon, his abdomen would complain, always instigating mirth in the camp.

Yet, after a week of this treatment, many of the men stopped their amusement and began to moan themselves. They began to beg him to ask Boromir to let them eat a few berries, and he would answer no, saying 'he is my Captain as well.' Soon a 'few berries' became a 'couple' and finally 'only one.' By then, Boromir knew of their pleads and from there on, took his meals outside of his tent, by the fire to torment the starving men.

Faramir smiled at the memory. He recalled that one of the men lost control and one night stole a handful of the berries. A detail Boromir had kept from them was that these berries were not for eating in any way and the man was punished more severely than what Boromir could have done to him. The captain had smiled with mirth when the man came back, wiping a sleeve across his mouth, and merely said, 'Complications?' The men had laughed and learned not to touch the vile fruit ever. Once back home, he ignored his brother's warnings and ate well beyond his hearts content. He had his own punishment for that, similar to the man's, and spent the night moaning with pain.

Faramir climbed off his horses back and tied him to one of the trees in the cluster where he had chosen to stop. He pulled out one of his bowls from his pack and filled it up with water before setting it down for his horse to drink out of. He went back to his pack and took out a small bag rations for himself. Settling down on the grassy floor, he ate his fill and drank out of his flask, savoring every drop. Many springs and rivers ran through this wild country, but when he would come across one, he did not know. For now, he would have to spare the drops and wish for the sound of water.

He raked his hands through his dirtied hair and looked up at the blue sky. For a moment, he began to question himself, but being the captain he was, trained at making a decision and committing to it, he brushed aside his fears and doubts and closed his eyes for a moment. Breathing deeply, he eased his tired back into the nook of the tree he was resting against and fell into a dreamless sleep.

When he awoke many hours later, he raged at himself for falling asleep again but stopped when he heard the sound of trotting horse feet across the ground. Moving to untie his horse and storing away his food, he jumped on the surprised animal's back and trotted quickly off the vague path he had been riding on before he stopped. Pulling the reins, he stopped and turned around to the sound of very near horse hooves. Waiting in the coming darkness, hidden behind the foliage, he looked through a gap in the branches and saw a large blur race closer. He blinked and to his surprise saw the horseman slow and stop. He had light brown hair and broad shoulders. His armor bore the symbol of the White Tree and his cape was drenched in the dark red of his country. But what made Faramir realize this was his brother he had been so urgently searching for, was the large horn he bore at his side. White, with gold tracings so thin and plain one would have to look from a closer distance to see the details marked upon it. In front of him stood Boromir son of Denethor, the Valiant Captain of Gondor.

Author's Note: I know this is going kind of slow but like I said, I have the other chapters already written and my updates will be more frequent as well to the story picking up its pace. I have some good (but probably predictable) surprises coming up in a few chapters so please READ AND REVIEW!

Namarie