Faramir stood in the shade of the cloister running round the First Company's exercise yard in the Sixth Circle watching yet another band of young recruits fall under his brother's spell. There were some twenty of them, nervous boys about the age of his Arandil, having their weapons skills tested by Boromir and the Company armsmaster.
A stocky, dark haired young man, Mountain blood clearly predominating in his ancestry, clumsily blocked Boromir's practiced strokes. "Good, very good!" his brother approved. "You have a natural gift for the sword, Bregor." The boy, flushed with exertion, glowed at the praise. "All right, who's next?" Boromir continued looking inquiringly at the row of waiting recruits. A slim, fair haired youth stumbled forward - apparently pushed from behind. "What's your name?"
"V-Vidukind, m'Lord." he stammered.
"Northmen blood, eh? That's promising." the warmth of Boromir's smile seemed to relax the boy a little. "You look like an archer to me, Vidukind, am I right?"
Greenish-blue eyes widened. "Yes, m'Lord. How did you know?" "With shoulders like yours it was obvious. Gwindor, get us a bow. Let's see what kind of a marksman our new archer is."
Faramir saw the worshipful light in Vidukind's eyes, and Bregor's, and shook his head smiling ruefully. He'd never understood how Boromir did it, somehow creating with a few words and a smile the kind of rapport it took Faramir himself weeks of painstaking effort to build with the Men who followed him. It was the difference between a born leader and a born scholar who'd had to learn how to lead.
A drift of pipe smoke tickled his nose. Turning his head he saw King Elessar standing silently at the back of the cloister, smoking meditatively as he watched the activities in the yard. "Your brother has a gift for Men." he observed.
Faramir nodded. "He always did. Though I don't suppose your grace had much chance to see it when you journeyed together."
"There were some signs of it. His care for the young Hobbits, and an uncomfortably keen insight into the minds of his companions," the King smiled wryly. "including mine."
"Yes," Faramir agreed softly, "he always had a knack for seeing more than one wanted him to." he ;ooked again at his brother, fair hair shining in the sun, as he circled the latest recruit a gangling young giant who had not yet filled out to what promised to be a formidable bulk. "He was our light and hope in a dark time."
"A heavy burden for him to bear." the King said quietly.
"I never realized how heavy until suddenly it was mine to carry." Faramir shivered at the memory. "But I was no Boromir. Without him we were truly in darkness." he turned to his King. "Until you came, my Lord."
"Which I never would have done, had he not laid it upon me to save our city and our people." King Elessar answered. Boromir's laugh, drew both Men's attention back to the exercise yard in time to see him being hauled to his feet by the highly embarrassed recruit. "He's needed this, I think." Elessar said quietly. "Solitude does not suit your brother."
"That's why I was so worried when he hid himself away." Faramir answered. "Even as our people drew strength from him, so he took his from them."
"My Lord Elessar!" Boromir had spotted the King in the shadows of the cloister and, eyes sparkling mischievously, beckoned for him to join them in the yard.
Grimacing slightly, Elessar knocked the ashes out of his pipe against a pillar, tucked it in his sleeve and walked out into the bright sunlight. Faramir watched, torn between amusement and apprehension. He knew that look of his brother's from of old but surely Boromir wouldn't play his tricks on their liege lord - would he?
The recruits congealed into statues at the sight of the King, a rim of white showing clearly around every eye. Elessar pretended not to notice. "I am impressed," he told the towering recruit, "it's not easy to get the better of Lord Boromir, as I know from personal experience."
The youngster blushed. "He-he slipped m'Lord."
"And you took advantage of the opening as a soldier should." Boromir said approvingly. "Very well done indeed." he reversed the blunt edged practice sword and offered it hilt first to his King. "Will you take over, my Lord?"
"Perhaps I had better." Elessar replied, eyes glinting in answer to the mischief in Boromir's. "Clearly you are outworn, my friend!"
Boromir grinned. "Give me a chance to catch my breath, Sire, and we will see which of us is outworn!"
The first recruit prodded out of line to face his King was literally petrified with fright, but Elessar's gentle voice and the steady power of his gaze eased the nervous boy almost as readily as Boromir's smile and quick warmth. Two very different Men but with the same gift for engaging the heart..
"Much better." Boromir said approvingly.
Startled Faramir looked down at his brother, now sitting on the cloister steps only a few feet away. "Better?"
Boromir nodded. "Aragorn must learn not to lurk in the shadows. He should let our people see him, speak to him face to face. He is too distant. Even after twenty years he is not truly known here in Gondor."
Faramir had often thought the same, yet he found himself replying defensively. "It is difficult for him."
"I know." his brother answered quietly. "One cannot spend half a lifetime in hiding without it leaving a mark. But you saw how different things are in the North."
Faramir nodded, he'd seen indeed. But the Dunedain of Arnor had followed Isildur's Heirs faithfully, sharing with them a thousand hard years of secret warfare. They did not carry the burden of guilt the Gondorim did. "The fault is not all on his side, Boromir. We here in the South know only to well how little we deserve his grace. Responsibility for his suffering and that of his people lies heavy upon us." he continued broodingly. "From Meneldil's rebellion to Mardil's refusal of the crown to its rightful heir, Gondor's history has ever been marred by pride and self will."
"And she has paid a bitter price for it."
Faramir looked at his brother and was ensnared by a power in the familiar blue gaze that had not been there before.
"Gondor too has suffered for her sins." Boromir continued, nodded towards the King, now sparring with freckled red headed youth. "He knows that better than anyone. Aragorn holds no grudge against the South but loves Gondor as well as he loves his Northern Realm. We Gondorim have always lived to much in our past. It's high time we put aside, if not forget, old griefs and old regrets and looked instead to the future."
It took Faramir a moment to find words. "You have grown wise."
Boromir rolled his eyes upward, becoming again the brother he remembered. "Only if you call plain common sense 'wisdom'!." he saw the King had run out of recruits to test and sprang to his feet to saunter out into the yard and laughingly challenge his sovereign to a sparring match.
Faramir, taking it for a jest, was genuinely surprised when Elessar accepted. But when he looked at the awed and bedazzled faces of the watching recruits he suddenly understood the purpose behind the seeming whimsy. It was but another way of inspiring these raw boys, and perhaps of firing a spirit of emulation within them.
Faramir considered his brother. He had never seen Boromir defer to anyone but their father and in the privacy of his thoughts had worried whether he would be able to accept another ruling over the city he'd considered his own. Clearly Faramir had underestimated Boromir, and perhaps King Elessar too. They worked well together, his brother and the King, Boromir would make Elessar a fine Steward and Captain General if only he could be persuaded to take his rightful place at his side. Faramir was still worried about his brother.
Boromir's behavior at the council had been odd. He'd remained uncharacteristically silent until Elessar had literally commanded him to speak. Then for a short time he'd been his old self, peppering the table with the familiar rapid fire questions. Only to suddenly, for no apparent reason, cut himself off and not utter another word for the rest of the session.
And there remained the question of why he had been sent back, and how changed. Questions he himself seemed determined not to explore. Faramir shivered a little. He couldn't altogether blame Boromir for that. If he found the new power he sensed within his brother unsettling how much more frightening must it be for Boromir himself? Especially with this new self mistrust of his, rooted in what he persisted in seeing as his failure with the Ring. Faramir sighed. But before all else they must win this war, and find some way to settle the problem of Herumor and Near Harad for good and all.
