"Boromir!"

He heard the voice, familiar and more than welcome, and he stood instantly from his bed. "Faramir! You've returned!"

"I could say the same to you!" Faramir came in, his eyes glowing with joy. "Brother! They feared you were lost!"

"I know." Boromir laughed as they embraced. "You knew better, I trust."

"I did indeed. " Faramir pulled back, looking so young and carefree hat he seemed out of place in the grim city. Still, the wisdom in his eyes spoke of certainty. "I would have known if you were lost to us. I never had a doubt. Though the horn was a sore blow. " He held Boromir back at arm's length. "You're wounded, or you wouldn't be here. What's the matter?"

Boromir lay a hand on his side. "An orc arrow. Two weeks ago, and hardly worth mentioning, but father insisted. Tell me of you."

Faramir sat with him on his bed, and they spoke for a long time. At first of Faramir's duties, of strategy, and the fall of Osgiliath. It was a blow, but not unexpected. The forces of the enemy, as Boromir now knew too well, were immeasurable against the armies of Gondor.

Boromir spoke quickly of his own trials, telling Faramir openly about Aragorn where he had not told his own father, speaking of the fellowship, of Rivendell and Lorien. He spoke of his companions, but there his story grew less certain.

"And who is this Merry? Another halfling by the sound of him." Faramir was laughing by then. "I learned their magic for myself when I met Frodo and Sam. It seems you made quite a friend."

Boromir's levity was fading bit by bit as he thought back on the journey. "Not a friend. Faramir, he is the thing that allowed me to survive this trip. I nearly lost my mind to that ring. It is no exaggeration to say that I would have made more grievous mistakes than I could ever amend."

Faramir nodded at that, gravity returning to him. "I felt the tug of that ring in a single evening, and it was a trial. I can imagine what it did to you."

"It took me over. The day I took the arrow, Faramir...I nearly lost myself to it. Merry was the thing that saved me. He brought me back, somehow."

"Then we owe him a debt of gratitude. Where is he now?"

"I don't know. We left him with Theoden." Boromir frowned.

There was silence for a moment, then Faramir spoke quietly. "Boromir. There's something odd about this, isn't there? Your heart is troubled, though you have often had to leave friends behind to go to other battles."

"This is different," Boromir replied with a slow nod. "I feel like we shouldn't have parted, not the way we did. Not with my gratitude left unspoken and so many things unsaid."

"You regret, then. That's unusual. I've never known you to go without saying what you feel to someone. Not when it's important. Too much the opposite, usually." Faramir smiled.

"But that's because normally I am clear and untroubled about how I feel."

That made Faramir pause, and he studied his brother with the deep, thoughtful look that had reduced Boromir to blushes more often than once. An embarrassing power for a younger brother to have over the older, but Boromir felt no shame. Faramir was wiser than he was, and admitting to come second to a man like his brother was no embarrassment.

Still, he felt his eyes drop under the force of his brother's gaze, and he sighed deeply. "This is why I usually don't deal in emotions."

Faramir smiled at that. "You are more emotional than most people I know."

"But not this sort."

"Ah." Another thoughtful silence. "Then I expect we ought to get straight how you do feel, so your thoughts will be less cluttered when you and this halfling meet again."

Boromir stood up suddenly. "Walk with me. I have had enough of healing houses."

They left together, with many assurances to the warden of the house of healing that Boromir was more than fit to take a stroll in the company of his brother. The two young lords were so beloved that few would have argued them anything, much less something small like a walk. They left without any argument.

And for a while Boromir hoped that that little change in surroundings had removed their conversation from his brother's mind. But he knew better, and so he wasn't surprised when Faramir spoke again thoughtfully, under the watchful eyes of the garden flowers.

"Now, let me see how much I've figured out, from between the lines of this tale of yours."

Boromir sighed, knowing he would have guessed most if not all of what he'd not said. "Just remember that my pride is fragile."

Faramir laughed, a carefree sound such as hadn't been heard from him since his brother had left. "Your pride!" He sent his brother a smiling look. "Your pride could be shot by more than orc arrows and still not be cracked in the least. Your pride is the least vulnerable part of you."

Boromir smiled to himself, but leaned over to hit his brother's arm lightly. "I'll have you know that I've been humbled lately, and my pride is not quite what it used to be. "

"I don't believe it. I do believe that you're trying to stall me from my purpose." Faramir grinned and hit Boromir a light punch on the arm in return. "Is it not so?"

"Fine, fine. Speak your mind then, since you'll give me no peace until you do."

Faramir chuckled, but his eyes gazed sidelong at Boromir and he studied him. "You've returned from battle into further battle, yet you're not content. It isn't the troubles of the land that bother you, nor the future of our country."

Boromir snapped a look at him, his humor fading. "Now--"

"Peace. I don't suggest you're not worried for us. I know your country will always come first to you, but that doesn't mean you can't worry for other things. And for now, your worries are all centered around a single young halfling. You're not happy about that, because you can't resolve how you ought to feel with how you do feel towards this Merry. Now I know you, Boromir, and I know a little of these halflings. You're not struggling against friendship, because what are these members of a new race but our friends? Neither is it that you dislike him but feel you ought to like him, because it's obvious this hobbit has your affection." He met Boromir's eyes then, meaningful.

Boromir grimaced and looked away, towards the setting sun sinking slowly over the west wall.

"And there we have it. You suffer because you feel too much for a halfling, more than friendship, with all your affection behind it. Well, I do believe our mystery isn't such a mystery after all."

"Stop speaking so lightly about it, then," Boromir heard himself snapping. He turned to Faramir, frowning. "Don't treat it as a joke, because that's the last thing I think of this as. Perhaps it's amusing to you that such a small creature has become dear to me. Maybe you think I'm not fitted to care, or he is not fit to be the target of my affections."

Faramir raised both hands in the air, neither surprised nor upset by Boromir's sudden anger. "Peace, brother. I spoke lightly of the mystery, not of the matter behind it. You know I would never treat your feelings as a joke."

Boromir nodded after a moment, looking away again. "But shouldn't it be a joke? The son of the steward, captain of armies and strongest in a strong city, simpering with care over a silly, smiling, carefree little hobbit."

"If it's real than it's no joke. Besides, I have seen for myself the strength of will and the spirit these halflings hold. It will be long years before I forget what passed between Frodo and myself, and Sam by his side. No, I don't think it's a joke. To say that would be to call the race of hobbits jokes, and carefree though they are they're at least as important as the race of men in the days ahead."

"It's not Gondor I think of, or the future of Middle Earth." Boromir spoke slowly, thoughtful. "Indeed, it's difficult to equate Merry to the larger things. It's as if..." He looked to Faramir suddenly. "Often I have sat in camp with soldiers and heard their tales. I'm certain you have as well. Often the men speak of things at home, things they miss. One of my oldest and most experienced men, Beranolen, once spoke of his little home in the lowest level of the city."

He thought back, and felt Faramir's eyes on him as he smiled faintly to himself. "He used to say that the battle was never truly over until he got to his home, and saw the flame of a single small candle burning in the window. It was a message from his wife, a constant presence in that window. A sign that she hadn't lost an ounce of devotion in his absence, that the home was his and waiting for him. Once he saw that candle, he said, the weight of war slid away and he suddenly felt refreshed and at peace."

Faramir smiled wistfully. "I've heard similar stories."

"Merry has been my candle." Boromir looked at his brother without shame at the admission. "To see him there is like seeing a home, an absence of war, a place where I can be at peace. I was aware of that before, during the journey, especially after we left the borders of Lorien. But it became real to me when I saw him again at Isengard, for such a short time. It is foolish to think of such things with so much going on around me, yet I find that I want to. I want to think that after the arrows and the orcs and the battles we still have to face, there is a candle waiting for me if I should survive it all."

Faramir stopped suddenly, turning to him. Both hands found Boromir's arms and held there. "To find such a thing is a miracle. You know that. Other men speak of love and it's seemed to me something unreal that they flourish to make themselves seem luckier. To hear you speak this way is...it's heartening. To have found something like that for yourself during such dark times must be thought of as no less than a miracle, and it hardly matters a whit if it's a man, elf, dwarf, or hobbit you've found it with."

Boromir met his earnest gaze, and he nodded after a moment. "I know, but--"

"No. There is no 'but'. You have peace and happiness at your beck and call, you only need to survive long enough to take hold of it. I am jealous of you - sorely, if the truth be known. I have longed to find such a person for myself."

"You will." Boromir met his eyes with a smile. "And perhaps you'll be luckier still, and she will be tall and beautiful and someone you can marry and bare children with."

Faramir studied him. "Then you regret that this halfling isn't some human woman?"

"That's a hard question." Boromir respected his brother far too much to answer without thought. "I cannot picture Merry being anything but what he is. But Faramir...I am to be Steward one day. It is I who must keep the line of Stewards going, or else risk father's wrath. Should this war come to a good end, should Aragorn come to take his place, there will still be Stewards, and Stewards need heirs. You speak of finding love as if it's the beginning and end of the matter, but I'm not in a place to choose a little male halfling when my people need a line of rulers to take them into the future."

"Then what do you propose? You take for yourself a wife and forget this peace you have? Or else you keep Merry near you as some sort of swordthain as you make for yourself a family?"

Boromir frowned. "You begin to understand my problems."

"And I don't envy you, save that you have felt love and you can go on knowing that one who loves you is out in the world waiting."