It was about mid-May, just after Faramir's 35th birthday, that Denethor charged Faramir with the defense of Osgiliath, the ruined fort and city on the river, Minas Tirith's last defense. Just the fact that his father was stationing men there raised alarms with Boromir, but this had been a long time in coming and he had faith that if anyone could do, his little brother could.
What Boromir did not know or read into it was that Denethor was growing less patient with Faramir with every passing year. He expected that the spawn of Thorongil would have been taken care of when he sent him into Ithilien, the most dangerous land in Gondor. But for 15 years now he had not only survived but rather thrived out there. Denethor was very unpleased and rather angry with himself for not seeing that his rival's son would be no less persistent.
Faramir was too honorable a man to ever say so, but it seemed to him that the closer he and Boromir became, the harder on him the Steward was. Many times was Faramir required to deliver a report privately upon his return from a shift in Ithilien, this was not required of any other soldiers, and it was clear to Faramir that it was only required of him so that Denethor could take the opportunity to deride his leadership and techniques and demand more from the Captain of the Rangers. It was getting so that it was a test of his nerves to even see the Steward.
It so happened that it was only a month into the occupation of Osgiliath that the former capital of Gondor was attacked by Sauron's forces. The Rangers normally stationed in Ithilien were not as sizable as other companies because they were a more elite corps. For two days Faramir's men were fighting to keep the further bank when it became clear to Faramir that there was no way they could hold the abandoned city alone, and he called on back-up aid from Minas Tirith. Boromir answered the call almost before it came and between them they managed to hold the western shore.
There were those who, after a battle, wanted nothing but food, ale, and sleep. There were also those who, while they wanted sleep as much as everyone else, were doomed not to get any, and among them were Boromir and Faramir, though for different reasons. After a battle, Boromir could not sleep for the stimulation still coursing through him. Faramir, on the hand, could not sleep because of the horror of it. He had never known true fear and what it meant to live so close to Mordor until he had seen the Nazgûl that day. And yet, that was not what was most at fault for Faramir's restlessness, nor was it the fact that he, Boromir, Damrod, and Mablung had very nearly given their lives for the west bank of the Anduin when that bridge gave out from under them. More than anything, it was his dream.
That night Boromir found his little brother sitting along in one of the many shells of buildings that used to be magnificent works of architecture. Faramir himself seemed to be in a shell of his own. Being the Steward's son, Boromir had managed to make off with two cups of hot tea, one of which Faramir numbly accepted. The two sat silently for a while, Faramir because he was deep in musing, Boromir because he could tell his little brother was deep in musing, that faraway look said it every time.
When the steam from Faramir's tea stopped rising Boromir thought he'd best bring him back to Middle-earth before his mind wandered away permanently. "That was another fine mess you pulled me out of," Boromir started, testing the waters. Ah-ha! It was working, Boromir told himself as Faramir looked up.
"I pulled you out? We never would have been able to hold the west bank if you had not come when you did," Faramir said.
Boromir just shook his head. "Yes, you pulled me out, if you hadn't i would be floating down the Anduin and out to sea as we speak."
Boromir's words gave Faramir a creeping chill and a feeling came over him that he wholly detested. In that moment, Faramir knew that the War had begun and that it would change their lives forever.
"Faramir, come, we were successful, we are still alive and we held off Mordor. Today, life is good, little brother. And drink your tea before it gets cold," Boromir coaxed.
"Successful?" Faramir said disbelievingly. "How many little brothers lost their big brothers this day?"
Boromir sighed and sat back. For as much as Faramir was skilled, he just did not see it the same way Boromir did. And yet, Faramir's words always offered an insight that Boromir otherwise would not have caught. "How many big brothers lost their little brothers this day? I know of one who did not and is eternally grateful for it." The brothers embraced for a long time before Boromir eventually said, "there is more troubling you than this day's work. I can tell, Fara'. What is it?"
Faramir slowly pulled away and sat back down, shaking his head. "It is nothing, brother. I am growing homesick again, that is all."
Boromir looked skeptical but kissed his brother's forehead and said, "get some rest, Faramir. Tomorrow we go home for a while."
For the next ten days Faramir had difficulty sleeping. Every time he closed his eyes and drifted off he was visited again by the same voice essentially urging him to go home. He desperately wanted to heed it, but he rejected it with all of his strength, telling himself that it was just because it had been 15 years almost to the date. He could scarcely just leave Minas Tirith as he had home. Life had gotten a lot more complicated than Faramir ever imagined it would in those 15 years.
One morning after another night of interrupted sleep Faramir almost blindly made his way up to the library. He was sick of hearing in his dream over and over about Isildur's Bane and having no idea what that was exactly. Perhaps it had something to do with the research Mithrandir was doing a few months ago. Oh, but that renewed his hope immeasurably, just knowing that his father was still alive and traveling with Gandalf.
That morning Faramir encountered two firsts, not only did he run into Boromir who was looking, for the first time in Faramir's recollection, truly lost in thought, but then his big brother all but pulled him inside the library and deep into the stacks at that. "Boromir," Faramir said, keeping his voice down, "are you well?"
Boromir, to Faramir's concern, just shook his head. "No one would hear us here, would they?"
Faramir shrugged, "i doubt they would, unless there are Elves around."
Boromir looked serious though. "I had a dream last night and i do not know what to make of it. You know more of these things than i do."
For a moment Faramir wondered if they'd had the same dream, but, then, that was hardly possible, was it?
"I am no poet, nor have i ever loved trying to figure out what poets are trying to say, but i can not stop thinking about this. There was a storm in the east, though light lingered in the west, and i heard a voice in the west that chilled me, saying, 'Seek for the Sword that was broken: In Imladris it dwells...' Our legends have said that belongings of Isildur were taken to a land called Imladris," Boromir said thoughtfully, trying to decipher this riddle bit by bit. "It went on, 'there shall be counsels taken, stronger than Morgul-spells.' I have no idea what that may mean, how can mere talk be stronger than anything that comes out of that place? 'There shall be shown a token, that Doom is near at hand, for Isildur's Bane shall waken, and the Halfling forth shall stand.' That is what plagues me most, though. It is as though this speaker is urging me to go and do something about this, but i do not even know where Imladris is, nor how this Isildur's Bane shall waken, and least of all do i know what a Halfling is."
Faramir stood in shock and no small amount of fear. It was not just him, then. He longed to tell Boromir that he had a pretty good idea of what most of the riddle meant, but that would be dangerous, no doubt about it. Faramir was also starting to understand what Mithrandir had said about their time coming. The way he saw it, that could either have meant their time of glory, or time of death. Neither would surprise him at this point.
Faramir knew exactly which sword was referred to, that was no mystery to him. He'd grown up with it, and, according to his father, it was nearly the death of him when he was three and wanted to see what it was that was held so reverentially up on the plinth. He tried to pull himself up by tugging at the cloth and one of the shards slipped and cut him. Had Aragorn not come looking for his wandering little boy when he did, the child might not have survived... but then, his father might not have either, had that been the case.
He also had a pretty good idea of how counsel in Imladris could be stronger than the dark of the Dark Lord, though whether for good or ill, he could not say. Faramir still remembered the downright heated arguments that Glorfindel and Erestor used to get into and he was beginning to wish he'd asked Gandalf if either of them was still surviving the other. Kidding aside, Faramir knew very well just how powerful Elrond was. There was something about being around his daeradar that made him feel truly protected.
Faramir knew, too, what Halflings were. They were what he and his father used to take patrols to protect. He was never sure why, they seemed like a very peaceful people and he could not imagine why anyone would attack such simple folk, but it was at Gandalf's insistence and one did not question Gandalf; it was impossible to get a real answer anyway.
Faramir saw this now clearer than ever as his time to return to his home. He had served his time and now he needed to leave. Yet, he needed to be tactful about it and more than just careful. "I can not tell you what Isildur's Bane is," Faramir said truthfully to Boromir, "but i agree that this is a calling. I have been having exactly the same dream since the night before Osgiliath was attacked. It made me feel like a bit of a black cat, honestly. Things have just continued to decline since i arrived."
"Don't say that, little brother. For one, things in Gondor have been declining since Mardil's day, and for another, if you hadn't come, i'd still be an only child," he said with a grin. "But we are still left with the problem of what to do. If you have had this dream too, perhaps we should both go. Come, let us bring this matter to father, the sooner that we may have this done. I feel compelled to this as i have never felt to anything else before."
Faramir did not love the idea of bringing the matter to the Steward, who Faramir feared knew more about him than he intended for anyone to know, but he said naught and went along with it. Boromir told Denethor the riddle and there was an eerie light in the Steward's eye. All he said, though, was that Imladris was the home of Elrond, the Elf-lord, in the north.
Faramir forced himself not to roll his eyes, but his patience was all but diminished. "My lord," he said, stepping forward, "i lived in the north and served there with the Rangers. I can go to Imladris and stand for Gondor in counsel. I would that Boromir would go, too, but surely the Captain-General can not be sent away on such a journey in such a precarious time."
Denethor scowled at Faramir and Boromir just gaped at him, that had not been in their plan. "Never speak to me in such a manner!" Denethor snapped dangerously. Boromir, never minding the sudden change in his little brother, stepped protectively in front of Faramir again, much to Denethor's agitation. Denethor ordered him to stand aside, though, and Boromir had no choice. Faramir did not seem afraid in the least. "I know what you would do," Denethor hissed, stalking close to the younger man, "you would take all the knowledge, all of the secrets, all of the spywork you have done back to him. No, i want you were i can keep an eye on you."
"Father," Boromir interceded, "what Faramir says is true. He knows the way north, and perhaps we could benefit from this counsel."
"I will not send Faramir for this mission. I refuse it! If anyone is to go, it must be someone i can rely on," Denethor said, resting his eyes on Boromir.
"How can i go without Faramir? He know the way!" Boromir insisted. "Without him, i would be wandering around up there and possibly never find where i am going. I could be lost out there forever."
"There are maps, Boromir. I have already said that i refuse to allow Faramir to go, do you wish to question my judgment?" Denethor knew well what Isildur's Bane was and he knew that once Boromir found out, he would do the right thing and bring it to Gondor so that they could be victorious and rebuild the kingdom to what it once was. That would, naturally, need a king... and since there were none of Isildur's line left, Denethor reasoned he could think of the next best thing.
Boromir looked over at Faramir and back to his father. He wondered what had brought on this mood this time. Sighing deeply he said, "no, sire," and turned to leave.
Faramir, on the other hand, did not leave. He had gotten rather bold and waited for Boromir to leave the hall before walking up to Denethor, who was still glaring daggers at him. "Tell me what you know," Faramir said evenly.
"I know that you wish to return to the north. I know that you know more than just the way north, you know the way directly to Imladris. After all, you were raised there," Denethor said with a frightening grin. "I also know that you are as much a danger to me as your father once was, which is why you will be staying here. Now that my son has bailed you out of that Osgiliath debacle, i am interested to see if you can hold your own without him rushing to your aid - you know, now that the War is properly begun."
"That is what i thought," Faramir said, his voice like steel. "In that case, i quit my service of you." Faramir moved to take off the tunic he wore, green, embroidered with the White Tree.
"You can not! You swore an oath binding yourself to me! It was the stupidest thing you ever did," Denethor's grin turned menacing, "apart from being born, that is."
"The oath i swore to you was a personal one, that means you have an end of the bargain to uphold as well. You have not done that, and so you are the one who broke troth, not i. I have served you faithfully in the worst places of this kingdom without question or complaint; you have done nothing to look after my well being, though. I owe you no allegiance."
"You owe me your life!" Denethor raged on. "I choose to let you live when you were but an infant, i would have killed your father, but i found myself locked in a dungeon in that Elf-infested madhouse you call home."
"Then it is scarcely you i owe my life to, but whoever stopped you. Consider me no longer in your service," Faramir said, dropping the tunic on the floor at Denethor's feet and walking away.
"Since you are no longer in my service," Denethor said just as Faramir was about to close the door to the hall behind him, "i have no reason to tell you of your mother."
"If you think you can buy me back with that, you are sadly mistaken. The last time a man tried to tell me of my mother, i left then too," was all that Faramir said.
ooo
AM: I can't help how fast i go. I have tried to slow down, but the words just keep coming.
linda: Bori' and Fara' are really great together. I don't think i've written a fic yet that had them together, so i am glad it comes across so well. You have to feel bad for Aragorn, but you know that whenever he got that news from Gandalf he was probably over the moon with joy.
steelelf: A brief glimpse at good old Gandy, yes, i could not resist, could i? I still say that sarcasm will never wash out!
Elenhin: You are really good at reading my next moves. Great minds think alike, right?