Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

This time Sean Bean makes another guest appearance as Ian Howe, from National Treasure. We though it would be interesting to see him and Faramir together, especially since Ian in the movie suffered the loss of his best friend, Shaw. The language is German, and again my good friend Gunnar helped me with it. The phrase is something I once said to a friend, and I think it is true.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

Boromir?

Ian Howe coughed as dust stirred from the pages of a book, although he enjoyed leafing through old tomes, he really did not care about the dust. He wished he could have some water or something to sip, something to wash down the dust in his throat.

It was however not possible, if he even thought about it the librarians would come running and throw him out.

They were all of them looking through the library after a certain book, but Ian who was still healing from an arm injury was the one who had to leaf through all the books. Since he was supposed to be taking it easy.

With more time to his disposal, and nothing in particular to search for, Ian could have thrived here. So many notes from the past written down, it was something that was hard to resist, and he wished that Shaw could have been here.

Shaw might not have shared Ian's passion for the old and dusty things, could barely be made to understand how Ian could enjoy looking through those old books, but Shaw could still share the feeling with him like no one else could. Shaw understood him so well that it did not matter. He would hear the passion in Ian's voice as he spoke, and he could understand it.

Shaw would consider it story time when Ian tried to explain something of the Knights Templar to him. He would enjoy hearing the tales Ian could tell him, he just did not care for sitting and reading about it himself.

Ian had met Shaw when he was twenty, and it was generally assumed that you could not meet nice people in prison, but Shaw had been the exception. Shaw had been there as a down in his 'pick pockety' luck, he had been a pick pocket because he had been down in his luck. The community sometimes left you with little choice but to become a criminal, Ian thought ruefully. He himself had made the choice that made him a criminal when he was fifteen. When he was orphaned and realised there was no legal way for him to earn enough money to pay the bills.

The reason he had been in prison had however been different, he had taken to show a child abuser how it felt to be beaten, and it had earned him six months. Those six months had however not been a complete loss, he had meet Shaw.

Even the guards had noted that the calm and calculating Ian had been good for Shaw who was more of a hot head, and it had been suspected that Ian would keep Shaw out of trouble once they had both served their time.

For a long time it had been true, Ian had kept Shaw out of trouble, until he had gotten him into the trouble that had killed him, the treasure hunt. He had lost the one who had been the closest to him then. Ian had loved his parents, had never doubted that he was loved by them, but he had never been so close to them as he had been to Shaw.

His death had been crippling, it had near broken Ian. The grief had near broken him, to the point where he had even shunned his friends, fearing they would hold him at blame. They did not, he knew that now, and slowly, inch by inch, he was getting over the crippling guilt. He was not sure if the grief would ever lessen though.

Ian carefully lay the tome aside and took the next one, gently brushing of a covering layer of dust from the leather before he opened it.

"Boromir?" The voice that made him look up was quiet. A mere whisper, yet it sounded as a chocked scream, there was a note of pain and grief in that voice as well.

Ian looked up to see a man standing there, dressed very oddly in a long tunic, trousers and leather boots that were laced. The tunic was strange, it was a deep blue, and had a silver tree embroiled on the left chest, above the heart. His hair was a dark blond shot through with tints of red, and he wore it to his shoulder. He really made an odd appearance, not that Ian would complain because someone wore their hair long, he was not about to cut his short.

He fit in nicely with the surrounding books thought, better than Ian did, his baggy sweater looked a lot more out of place than this guy did.

There was also the look in the mans eyes, grief and pain as heavy as Ian felt it.

"I'm sorry." He said. "Can I help you?"

"I, er, no." The man shook his head, averting his eyes down for a moment, and Ian felt concerned for him. Then the man looked up again, his eyes still sad, but he looked more composed. "For a moment there I took you for my brother. I have never seen anyone share such likeness to him as you do. But for me to think it was he must be wishful thinking. He died some time ago."

Faramir was not sure why he should tell that, he truly had thought that it was Boromir there, even with those strange clothes, even when he knew he had mistaken himself this man still looked so much like his brother that it was painful to look upon him.

He did not know how it had happened this time, but for some reason the Kingdom of Dust had sent him off again, it was however odd, for he had done nothing to evoke such a journey this time. It might however have something to do with the loss in the other man's eye. The same loss of a lost brother that he knew was mirrored in his own eyes.

It could be that the Kingdom of Dust had brought together two souls who both mourned the loss of a brother.

"I'm sorry." The words was simple, yet Faramir could read so much in the voice of this man. He meant the words with an earnest that was very rare, but there was no doubt about it. They both shared the same loss.

"I am as well, grief is a heavy burden." Faramir spoke softly, not wanting to sound as if he was interfering with something he should leave alone. Yet if he had been brought here he would offer what support he could.

"It is." Ian looked down for a moment, fingering the page of the book he was leafing through."

"I'm Faramir, and it seems that we both mourn the loss of a beloved one." Faramir offered the man a warm and supportive smile. Hoping he would be able to offer this man more, for there truly was a resemblance of Boromir over him. The colour of his hair and eyes, the way he held himself. It could be that this man's resemblance to Boromir was one of the things that had brought them to one another.

"Ian." The other man said, and Faramir nearly felt his heart break so alike to his brother this man was. "I hope he knew just how beloved he was."

"Your brother?" Faramir asked, he knew what losing his brother had done to him, and this man's eyes held the same pain.

"No." He shook his head, and like when Boromir did that, his hair swung around his head. "I never had a brother to lose. A friend, one that was closer to me than anyone else has ever been, and it was my fault he died."

"I claimed the same thing, that it was my fault my brother died." Faramir was beginning to get a feeling of what had brought him to this man. Faramir had been able to come to terms with the way his brother had died, and this man badly needed to. "A wise friend of mine told me that it could not be."

"Did you make him go with you on a fool's mission, one that got him killed?" Ian's voice was thick with unshed tears and searing pain.

"No, but my brother went on one in my stead." Faramir stepped closer, standing vigilant behind the other man. "He went in my stead, and he died there, and yet it was not my fault. What more, had I gone instead, and had died instead, he would have been the one blaming himself. I would rather spare him that pain."

"Shaw never questioned what we were doing, he just did what I asked him to, went wherever I went, and he died following me. I should have seen that it was a doomed mission." Ian was looking down at the table. "I did not, and he died."

"He followed you willingly." It was not a question, Faramir did not need to ask that question, he knew the answer in his heart. "Boromir would never have demanded of someone what he would not do himself, and neither did you."

"How can you be so sure of that?" Ian wanted to know, this was indeed a strange man, and even stranger was that he was telling him so much. He was never this forward with people he did not know. Ian wanted to put his defences up, mind what he said more, but he could not make himself stop talking about it. For some reason it felt as if this Faramir understood him so well.

"He did." Ian admitted reluctantly, Shaw had always been willing to follow him, had he objected then, Ian would never have pushed on down the stair if Shaw had objected, but Shaw had been eager as well. He had wanted to go there, that was why Ian had brought him with him, because he wanted to find the treasure as much as Ian.

"You see there, it was not your fault." Faramir said calmly.

"Do you read minds or something?" Ian demanded. He was normally not that touchy, but it made him feel exposed. He was not used to being read so easily, by anyone else than Shaw.

Ian had once claimed that Shaw read him like an open book, Shaw had just snorted and claimed that it was more like reading a billboard.

"No." Faramir said with a sad smile. "I did not have to either." No, he thought, he did not need to. Not when someone was so much like his brother, he had known Boromir better than he knew himself, and the same seemed to go for this man.

Ian thought that it was spooky, and yet, he had to admit the truth to it, maybe losing Shaw really had not been his fault. He was not sure about that, but he had just realised what would happen if Ian allowed his guilt to break him down, it would be the worst thing he could do to Shaw, and he owed it to Shaw not to do that.

"We honour them best by honouring what they gave us." Faramir said softly.

Ian nodded, it was true, he had been looking at the page, running his finger over a section of the print the whole time. Now, for the first time he noticed what the words said, it was German, and so it had not struck him at first. „Die besten Freunde sind die die fünf Minuten weg sind, aber die man einen Leben lang vermisst." He read it out loud, following the words with his fingertip in an almost caress as he read it.

"Good friends are the ones that are gone for five minutes, and you miss them for an eternity." Faramir said softly. "It is true, very true."

"And when you know that they are gone forever…" Ian did not finish but looked up at Faramir.

"Then we have to think about what they gave us." Faramir told him, he thought that someone else was coming, so it would be a good time for him to get back. Ian was looking down into the book again, and he started to edge away.

"I guess so, it would be worse if I did not miss him, at least now I know how much he meant to me, and how much I treasure the memory of him." Ian looked up, he knew that Faramir would be gone, he had felt how he had disappeared, odd, that you could be so attuned to someone you had never met before. Yet it felt as if he had met him before, maybe he had, he did not know.

What he did know was that the other man had made a good point, he would honour Shaw's memory, not allow himself to be destroyed by it. So he grinned when his other friends came into view, Gregor, Victor and Phil, and there was Charlotte with their baby girl. The girl that was Ian's daughter, and was there a better way to honour Shaw than to show them how much he love them all?

Since I could not write more without giving a spoiler for my National Treasure fic, I shall insert a temporary ending here, and make the humble request that every reader who enjoyed this, shall go and hug someone you love, trust me, they shall appreciate it. Give someone a hug for Boromir and Shaw, and this temporary ending shall pass faster as well, trust me.

Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:

Hugs Elenhin How very true! And for as for the quote, it works the other way around too! When we met, after five minutes it felt like we've known each other for an eternity. Hugs again

I even got something to do this week! And it's not French! Yay!

„Die besten Freunde sind die die fünf Minuten weg sind, aber die man einen Leben lang vermisst."

Hmmm, best go with the flow of it, and try to incorporate some German accent into it.

The 'r's are rolling as always, single 's's are toned while double 'ss's are not. The 'w's are pronounced as an English 'v' and the 'v's are pronoundced as an English 'f'... The 'ie' vowels are pronounced an English 'ee'.

Until next week! Now I'm off on a late vacation!

Earendil Eldar: Life does become more interesting when the Desk and The Lord Demeni gets together, does it not? Yet I think that it took care of some of the work for them, it was just bad luck that the good Lord got his hands on that particularly piece of work. On the other hand, had he not, what would I have given you to laugh at? Since he never tries to make it worse for them, they always seems to take his mistakes with good humour.

Silver Sniper: Hmm, Bonfire, maybe we should lend them some help with the paperwork, from scouts. Celebrion will testify that scouts in general, and the two of us in particular love a good fire, but then I am afraid that the fire would not be constricted to paper work only, and that could be a bad idea. Anyway, since there are many jokes left to be made on the subject of signing papers, we would not want to resort to such drastic means just yet would we? What fun would we have then?

Legolas's Girl 9: Glad your back. Hmm, books can really be usefull for finding your way through life, I think that's been proved now. As happy as ever that you liked the chapter, I hope that you could enjoy this one as well.

Shy-Shadow Reckless: I think that when Eowyn meets him in the door, it is mostly to make sure that he knows what she thinks about him being so late. Is the kind of person who would make her annoyance known, on the other hand she fully understands the responsibility Faramir has. It is more of a way to keep him from neglecting himself, than any actual punishment. Also quite true, she'd be more angry at Aragorn for allowing it, then on Faramir. Eowyn and Faramir are both very cute and very sweet together. Not to mention funny.

Lindahoyland: You do enjoy the comments about the paperwork, do you not? I am beginning to think so anyway. Actually, Arwen and Eowyn are more understanding than it seems, but they are both worried their husbands will neglect themselves for all the tedious paper work, acting as if they were angry is a way to drive their husbands away from their desks at night.

I just realised I don't really have a Sharpe favourite, they are all to good, but I really enjoyed Sharpe's Eagle, and a short special called Sharpe's Christmas. What has me annoyed is that I read a funny quote that was supposed to come from Sharpe's Company, and I read the whole book without finding it, now I'm beginning to fear that there are cut and edited copies, and that I found one of them. I'll have to try and find another copy of that one. Let me know what you think of the rest of them, and I strongly recommend Sharpe's Trafalgar, the comment about "Watch your head sir," and the furry coffee will have you laughing on the floor.

Lady Elbereth Tealrose: Always as happy to hear that my padawans like my work, you make a master very proud meldir nin. Ah, the two of them are very enjoyable together. They are the perfect image of true friendship.

Steelelf: I am sure the Lord Demeni appreciates that you find him so amusing. He never seems to mind me writing about him. I hope you were able to enjoy this just as much as well, thought it might be different.

Now, how many will run straight up to the nearest person to deliver a hug? I for one will, many hugs to all of you taking the time and trouble to read this.

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.