Now that Faramir had access to the Citadel and no official duties assigned he spent nearly all day, every day in Minas Tirith's library. He promptly made a new friend in the archivist there as well, who was usually one of the loneliest men in the city.
Over the next weeks Boromir and Faramir grew increasingly close. Every evening Boromir would have to go deeper and deeper into the library to find his little brother and call him out for their nightly ale at the Merry Widow.
One afternoon when it was murderously hot in Minas Tirith Boromir managed to drag Faramir out of the city before he even got to think of heading to the library. Boromir even had his horse ready for him and as soon as Faramir finished breaking fast with his two companions, Boromir had him mounted up and out of the city. They rode southeast for about a league until they came to the river. The entire way, Boromir had refused to say what he was up to, then he stopped at the river's edge and turned to Faramir, asking, "you do swim, do you not?"
Faramir, still a little perplexed, nodded and said, "of course i do, but why -"
Boromir said nothing, but stripped down and plunged into the refreshing river. Faramir got the hint and followed suit. It was a rare sight, two grown, tested men acting like careless boys. Neither even thought about going back to the city until sunset and in the meantime they spent the entire day swimming and picnicking, talking and teasing, generally acting as though they were true brothers since day one.
"It is not the sea, but it is refreshing," Boromir said as they lay in the shade of the riverbank.
"You know the sea?" Faramir asked.
"I should, i lived there for fifteen years," Boromir said grinning. "When i was five my father rode out on some long mission, the next day my mother and i went south to Dol Amroth and i lived there ever since. Mumma was from Dol Amroth and we lived with her brother. My uncle was my best friend growing up. We used to build sandcastles and fight sea-monsters and all sorts of mischief. I will never forget my father's one and only visit to us. He came on a rainy day, wearing a green cloak, and i took him for a sea-monster and started striking him with my little waster. Well, after all, i had to protect my mumma, didn't i?"
Faramir glanced over at Boromir. "I never knew my naneth."
"I am sorry to hear that," Boromir said. "Every son needs his mother."
"Aye, likely so. My father really made up for it though. He and I were the best of friends." Faramir was surprised how easy it was to talk to Boromir about his family, considering how choked he usually got just thinking of home, but by now he considered Boromir to be family as well. "I miss my father so much." Faramir did not attempt to inhibit the tears which rose from his heart. "I did not even say goodbye to him."
For a moment it was a curious thing to Boromir that such an astonishing soldier did not hide his gentle side, as just about every other man he'd ever met did. It took effect on him though and he pulled Faramir into his arms. He could not even imagine what it must be like to be stranger in a strange land. "Losing someone you love is the hardest thing in the world," Boromir said with all compassion.
Faramir glanced up at his understanding big brother. "I did not lose him, he lost me. I left home when I - well, I needed to go out on my own, it was not my father's fault. I was just not strong enough to tell him, I did not want to see how it would break his heart, so I left on impulse one night. I feel terrible for what I have done now, but, there is little I can do about it apart from holding to the hope that I will see him again. I almost wonder that my uncles have not come after me yet, my grandfather must have them under lock and key, for they were fierce protectors."
"Or perhaps they understand your motives for leaving? Everyone is young and rash at least once," Boromir said.
Faramir laughed through the few remaining tears. "You do not know my uncles. They are young and rash forever. Thank you, big brother, you have made me feel much better," Faramir said sincerely.
"I want you to take that seriously, about being your big brother," Boromir said. "I always wanted a little brother, ever since i was five. If there is ever anything troubling you or even if you just do not wish to be alone, come to me. Now that i have a little brother, i need to make up for lost time."
"I will take it seriously," Faramir promised. "You are the closest thing to family i have here."
"Good. Since we are agreed on that, I suppose I can now admit to you that I am the Steward's son." Boromir tossed a stick into the river and looked sideways at Faramir, gauging his reaction.
Faramir looked rather surprised but thought on it for a moment and said, "that rather makes sense I believe. I had wondered how you were in so good with the Steward when everyone else cowers before him."
"Then you promise that you will start bowing to me or fawning over me or watching what you say around me?" Boromir said sounding a bit tragic.
Faramir laughed. "Of course not! Why would I do that? You and I are friends."
"You do not know what a relief that is. People were a bit more relaxed in Dol Amroth, but when I came back here, I was put on a pedestal so high my nose bled and I had to gasp for air. All this time you have treated me as a normal person and I can not tell you how refreshing it has been. I was reluctant to say anything, especially after you swore yourself to my father, for fear that you would not want to be my friend anymore. I guess I sound about ten years old, do I not?"
Faramir just smiled and shook his head. "No," he said, "true friends are hard to come by and easy to lose." He considered sharing with Boromir the secret of his own heritage, but though he felt a bit guilty about keeping a secret when Boromir shared one, something told Faramir that it was just not the right time. He understood better now his father's reasons for not speaking of their bloodline until he did and wished that he'd had such understanding a few months ago.
"Well…" Boromir said, glancing back toward the city. He was about to suggest that they make for home, now the that sun was nearly entirely set already, but a glowing light in the top of the Tower of Ecthelion caught his eye. Boromir did not know what caused it, but he knew the result: every time he saw that glow in the tower, his father's temper took a turn for the worst. It was not something he felt like dealing with at the moment. "Faramir, what say we just stay out here tonight? It should be warm all night, and it would get you in practice for heading out with the Rangers in a couple months."
Faramir agreed to that, but jokingly said, "in that case, can I prevail upon the Steward's son to have this day struck from my tab at the Guesthouse?"
"I will do better than that, little brother. He can send me the bill. I see no reason for you and your companions to stay in that place. Why not hire something on the fifth level? No, do not worry about the cost, put it on my account," Boromir offered openhandedly.
"I thought you did not want anyone treating you differently?" Faramir said skeptically.
"I do not, but this is different," Boromir insisted.
"No, it is not. I do not want anyone treating me differently either. People will say that I am using your friendship, if they do not already," Faramir maintained.
"The people also say that you are my long lost brother, which is, of course, nearly true, but who cares what they say? I know that you still miss your home, I do not blame you in the least, and I would do what I can for you, and your companions as well. It is the least I can do to show my appreciation for the service the three of you will undertake and the service you have already taken upon yourself."
"Boromir, if ever a man was to have a big brother he should wish him to be as good a man as you," Faramir said with much sentiment.
Hugging his little brother tightly, Boromir said, "you can blame my mumma and uncle for that. I just want to see my little brother comfortable before he has to go out into that margin of land for six months."
So it was for the next fifteen years, Boromir and Faramir regarded one another as not only the dearest of friends, but brothers as well, and turned to each other for support. Faramir came to be, more or less, comfortable in Gondor, though he enjoyed his time in the woods of Ithilien much more than in the city. When he was in Minas Tirith, Faramir spent much of his time with either his brother or a book. In that time, Faramir was made Captain of the Rangers, though the unfortunate, yet not unforeseen, side effect of that was that he had less time to spend with his brother as both men were kept quite busy with their duties.
On one rare occasion that Faramir had a bit of time to spend in the library of Minas Tirith in his 34th year, he received a very welcome surprise. Faramir headed down into the deepest parts of the archives and there he froze still, wondering if he was seeing things… or people, rather. "Mithrandir?" he asked, making sure his eyes were not deceived, though there was hardly any mistaking that hat and beard.
Looking up, the elderly wizard smiled brightly. "Well, Faramir, this is a surprise!" he said as though he had only just seen him last year at a Mid-year's Day festival.
Faramir ran to him and held his old friend tightly. All at once his tears broke along with a million questions about home.
"Easy, lad!" Gandalf chuckled kindly. "I may be a Maia," he whispered, "but even I can not answer more than one question at once. Here," he said, handing Faramir a flask, "take a bit of this, unless another reminder of home is unwelcome?"
"Unwelcome? A month after I left I wanted to turn back! Oh… Valar! Tell me everything, but more than anything, tell me of my father."
Gandalf sighed. "I am afraid I can not tell you much about anything at the moment, and I was just finishing here and about to leave. Everything must be done in haste these days. I know that is less than satisfying. I can tell you that your father is faring well enough, though he has gone all bitter and grim again, of course you never knew him that way, but he misses his son terribly."
"Do you intend to see him again soon?" Faramir asked.
"As soon as I leave here," Gandalf replied.
"Then tell him that I love him, please." Faramir was more than a bit choked and could only manage a whisper.
"I needn't tell him that, Faramir. He never doubted it," Gandalf said kindly.
"Then tell him I am sorry."
Gandalf smiled. "That I shall tell him, and I will tell him that I found you not only well, but wandering around in the most remote places of the library. That will cheer him immensely. I wish I could stay and spend some time catching up with you, but now that I have more information than I expected to find, I must rush. Continue to take care of yourself, Faramir, and do not worry, our time is coming soon." With that the Wizard hurried away like he was escaping a burning building.
For nearly a half an hour Faramir just stood there trying to figure out his old friend's cryptic words before Boromir found him and dragged back into the light of day. It was only several months later that Faramir began to have a recurring dream that seemed to be calling him home:
Seek for the Sword that was broken:
In Imladris it dwells;
There shall be counsels taken
Stronger than Morgul-spells.
There shall be shown a token
That Doom is near at hand,
For Isildur's Bane shall waken,
And the Halfling forth shall stand.
ooo
Circini: Welcome and thank you for the kind words. I try to write these guys realistically, if i can't imagine a person behaving a certain way, i usually won't write it. I am very glad to have kept your interest, i do worry ocassionally about writing the kind of stories that people read the first chapter of and decide it's time to give up reading fanfics. I wouldn't think it's a bad thing to be leery about what you read here, most of us are.
linda: Denethor definitely knows too much, though it seems as if he is biding his time for now, keeping Fara' out on the front lines.
Elenhin: You certainly do understand Boromir as i have written him. I love it when someone sees below the surface of the words i have here to understand the motives and reasons in the story. It makes me feel that i am really doing my job well in relating all of this highly important material :)
steelelf: Sarcasm is impossible to get out, utterly impossible. Once it's there, it's there for good. Why do you think that Dinsdale Pirana used it? About Denethor's robes... i don't even want to go there.