Disclaimer: All characters, places, things, hobbits and everything in between belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien
Chapter 5: Walking Forward
Faramir released the long breath that he had not known he had been holding. His holding on the reigns, slackened and he closed his drying eyes from holding them open for far too long. For a moment, he thought of yelling out to Boromir, telling him of his presence, but that would have been folly for Boromir was quick with a bow and without forewarning, he may well be shot. Moreover Faramir had reasons to be hesitant in impending his brother, if not to be killed by a stray arrow but to be sent back home without him saying his full outlook regarding his brother's departure and all of his long hours of riding would be for the nothing and he would be sent back to an angry Steward and people and called a traitor. That was something he could not let happen.
For the moment, though, he would remain silent and watch his brother's actions carefully. If he would ride longer on this day, then he would follow, but he would stop and make camp, then he would stop as well and wait for the moment before sleep, when his brother's mind was not bent on killing and approach him.
Much to his dismay, Boromir dropped from his horse and began to walk around the area, checking for footsteps or boot marks. Faramir groaned inwardly at his own folly and tried to move his horse backwards, as slowly as he could without making a leaf rustle. He watched as Boromir's brow knotted with confusion as he moved to see what these horse marks and boot marks may tell him. He walked the circle of gaze and began to circle again, yet to his own gaffe he saw he was tracking his own foot marks the second time and laughed quietly at himself. Faramir hid his own mirth and stopped his horse from advancing anymore for Boromir forgot the business at hand and thinking it was safe enough to break for camp, tied his horse to one of the large trees the shadowed him and began to search through his sacks for something to eat.
Whilst he was searching, Faramir, very quietly and swiftly, jumped off his horse and using the silent footsteps of a trained Ranger, tied his own horse to a thin tree and crouched down, waiting for the night to come. Suddenly a large flock of crows flew through the sky over them, crying and howling. Boromir's horse had not known such creatures yet, for he was new to the Steward's stables and had only been Boromir's horse for yet three weeks. Never had he ventured so far as Osgiliath and not seeing but men and orcs, was frightened by such a new sight. He neighed and shuffled, causing Boromir to pull his hand out of the pack he had it in.
'Easy Ethel. Easy. What do you hear?' Boromir was started by his horse's abrupt movements and moved to comfort him.
Faramir's horse had not move his head the smallest amount.
Many hours later, when the sun had faded and moon had risen only a few paces from the rim of the world, Faramir was awoken from his small doze to the loud crunch of his brother's feet walking away from camp. He blinked blearily and waited for his eyes to focus on the world, light only by the small glaze. By the time he would make out the outlines of the trees and shadows of the bushes, Boromir had returned and was whipping his mouth. He set down his full flask, and having already eaten his small ration of food, settled down to sharpen his sword and wait for sleep to fall upon him. Ethel slept already, a few paces away and Faramir's own, Rethron, was sleeping as well. Faramir decided it was time for him to speak to his brother. He rose slowly, making sure that his clothes did not make sound or his sword and knives rattle. He advanced steadily, making sure his feet did not make any alarming noises nor cries. Boromir continued to sharpen his sword, back to Faramir.
Suddenly, he ceased his movement and quickly kicked dirt on the fire to put the flame out. At the time, Faramir did not know why his brother had done this so swiftly but he learned later that to remain alert, his brother would try to move his muscles to remain awake. It was such a very queer and unusual thing that he had heard and when he told his brother so, Boromir smiled and said nothing more on the subject. Yet, now, at the moment Faramir being illusive to the future as any other kept his own feet moving and found his way to the edge of the glaze and stepped out of the shadows of the trees. He did not know what to say, for he was in such an awkward position. For to say of his coming would start his brother and to tap his brother's back would result in his own hand being cut off. Mayhap, though, if he did speak, Boromir would not rush to conclusions so quickly and let him hear his brother's voice and know it was he, welcome him in and all would turn out well for both of them this night. Or---
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 but Boromir was, thinking that something was amiss, stood and grabbed Faramir's wrist.
'Not this time. I will not be tricked into believing that you have some gesture or idol of peace insides those rags that you wear. Tell me of your business. Speak.'
'Boromir, let me go. It is me.' For a moment, the grip on his wrist relaxed but only to be tightened again, when Boromir spoke.
'I do not know such a nameless being. And your business seems only to attack those who are alone and appear to be unwary so you may steal their treasures that they may carry with them. The greed of man! What is this now? You try to shake my own hand away from your own. Do you believe I am going to hurt you—
'No, I do not, for Boromir—'
'—because that would be folly of you.'
'Boromir it is me—'
'You are beginning to anger me, my dear fiend. Come, show yourself.'
Without warning Boromir's horse awoke and neighed loudly. Boromir, believing it was something of this man's treachery pushed Faramir to the ground.
'Who are you? Speak now, what have you done to my horse!'
'Boromir, stop, stop. You are hurting me—'
Boromir, acting rashly on his own part put his hands around Faramir's throat and began to choke him. The edges of the world began to fade as air left his throat. This was so unlike his brother. To not let him speak. Was he too skeptical and anxious or was this truly the way he had become through these past years of too many wars with the men of the south. For what ever reason, Faramir did not know but he began to convulse as he could not breath. He began to claw at his brother's tight grip. He could dimly hear his brother's voice. His mind screamed for air, he body twitched and all the while, his brother did not come to his rescue.
Author's Note: This was one of the hardest chapters I have ever written. I don't know why but I didn't really like the idea of why Faramir would have waited to speak to his brother and it was hard to come up with somewhat legitimate reasons for his actions. If you didn't like this chapter, don't leave me yet! I promise you, the next one will be good. It was the whole reason why I started this story in the first place, just getting there was the difficult part. Please review because it is always so helpful and may the light of the Valar shine on you!
Earnestly,
K. Elessar