When I was a young boy, I was given a sword to play with, even eventually to train with. It was merely a poorly forged scrap of metal with a wooden hilt, but it could still inflict damage. It was my first weapon.

My brother, a few years older than me, had just plunged head-first into what was the glory and splendor of a young boy of Gondor. I felt slightly intimidated when they told us to duel for the first time, but I know Boromir would never intend to hurt me, and I hurting him was a rather improbable prospect. Nevertheless, we gave one another a respectful handshake and assumed our stances. Naturally, my brother won that small challenge quickly, but as I soon faced other children my brother's age, my tutors, and even other soldiers, I found to my horrified curiosity I knew exactly what to do when it came to the sword.

With every spin, thrust, pivot, feint, and jump, I had full knowledge of how to maneuver - including where to turn, where to strike, and how to push my opponent to forfeit. I could sense an attack from behind. In short, I knew how to handle a weapon, and I could kill.

Yet… that was not my wish. The mere idea of taking lives did not appeal to me, even though I possessed that power easily. So, when I could, I laid down my sword. To me, it was a weapon of defense, and nothing more. But I didn't have long to wait before I needed to remember that once more...

It took half a moment's time for Faramir to realize what had happened; perhaps a normal man would have not noticed at all, but he was observant and keen on his surroundings. The sound of a calm and eerie wind softly rushed by his ears, jumbled with the far, far, away sounds of Imrahil's yelling and the echoes of violent hooves against barren, black, fields.

Hold on!

Something whispered to him in the wind even as it spoke. Lethargically, Faramir grasped the sides of his saddle and only managed to unhook his foot from the stirrups as he fell to the ground. He landed with the wind knocked out of him harshly. He made an effort to swallow a painful feeling in his throat, and managed a cough. He saw Imrahil out of the corners of his blurred eyes, running to meet him, and Faramir knew everything would be all right if he just closed his eyes…

He was sitting by a stream, watching in silent meditation as the cold and welcoming crystalline waters rushed by his bare feet. Faramir watched him for several minutes in curiosity. He recognized this boy… yet from where? As if hearing his thoughts and thinking them ridiculous, the boy turned his head and met Faramir's gaze, prompting a surprise jerk on the captain's behalf. The boy didn't catch it, instead he smiled and rolled his eyes.

"There you are!" said the boy getting up and brushing the grass off of his legs. "I've been looking for you everywhere!"

Faramir moved away slightly in confusion. "I'm sorry, young lad. You have mistaken me for another."

The boy folded his arms impatiently, and sighed as if to humor him. "Oh really? Well then, if you're not my little brother, then just who are you?" he said in a gently mocking voice.

Faramir couldn't help but smile. "I'm Captain Faramir… who are you?"

The boy ignored the question and began laughing. "Well, if you're a captain, I must be a lord." Faramir was vexed, and showed it by assuming an authoritative expression.

"What's your name, young sir?"

The boy rolled his eyes again. "I don't know what you're playing at, but I suppose the only way I'll find out is if I play along as well, eh...? My name is Boromir. What's yours, young sir?" the boy asked, grinning.

Faramir's grin dropped. It was Boromir! His ruffled sandy hair, his rough, stubborn face lighted with a laughing smile, and while the figure of his brother was still small, he was showing definite signs of leaving boyhood. He was alive, and Faramir wanted nothing more than to hug his brother, and kiss his head, and tell him a thousand times about how proud Gondor was, and how much his father missed him, and how much he loved him, but Faramir couldn't move. His feet were rooted to the cold ground.

"Race you to the tower, captain!" cried his brother, suddenly running past Faramir and through a field of weeds.

"Boromir, wait!" yelled Faramir through a sudden sob; he didn't realize he was crying. "Come back, Boromir, please!" cried Faramir in anguish as he arched over in grief.

"He can't hear you, you know," a gentler voice spoke behind him. Faramir looked over his shoulder and turned around. This boy looked strikingly similar to Boromir, only his hair was lighter and framed his face in boyish ringlets, and his features on his small face were softer. Faramir looked at the little boy with tears in his bewildered eyes.

"What...?" was all he could manage.

"He's lost to you now, but you are not lost to him," the young boy said, folding his arms.

"I don't understand..." Faramir trailed off.

"You have just reunited with your brother even if it was for only a few, precious minutes. Only, that bond cannot exist, because you are of two separate places now. But never fear. You'll one day be seeing each other quite often… You just need to know where to go," the boy added with a sweet smile. Faramir looked at the boy, still picking apart his words and then gave a sigh of frustration and began rubbing his temple. He couldn't linger in this hallucination of unconsciousness. He needed to get back to his men. He had already lost a third of them.

"Where are we?" Faramir asked, taking in his lush surroundings. Odd… It really did look hauntingly familiar.

"Sorry. That I cannot tell you."

Faramir sighed. "Can you tell me your name then?" The boy suddenly became intrigued. His eyes glistened with a wild knowing glint, and a small, unsure smile crept along his young lips as he stepped closer to Faramir.

"Do you not recognize me then?" Faramir peered at the little boy with hard concentration, trying to conjure any memory of him. Then he looked into the boy's blue eyes, and a cold realization hit him.

"No… no! 'Tis a mad fever... You - I cannot-" Faramir's legs gave out, and he fell to his knees.

"I am," said the boy firmly. "And you are as sane as I."

"But... but you told me-"

"I told you Boromir was lost to you, but you cannot lose me. Not now, now that you've come so far without leaving me." There was a long silence.

"Am I dead?" Faramir asked in a hoarse whisper. The boy shook his head.

"Nay, captain. But you are quite close." The boy eyed him, a little probingly. "Yet… you should not be here at all. But a message you must bear in your mind, no matter how it may fade with time, Captain Faramir. Do not lose hope yet, for it is very near. All you can do now is secure its light and make certain its glow is preserved. Do you understand?" Faramir nodded his head dumbly, not comprehending at all. The boy smiled sadly at him.

"Your brother is proud, and so are your parents."

Faramir gaped at him. "Mother?" The boy nodded. "Father...?"

The boy's face made an odd expression as the child's mood turned grim. "He is fond of you, and yes, proud. But his mind has been clouded by grief. Beware of it."

Faramir's face betrayed his confusion, but the boy ignored it.

"Faramir! Come along!" shouted Boromir. Both of them looked over to where the voice had come. "If I have to be tutored, then you do, too! Master will be mad if we're late."

The boy looked at Faramir with melancholy sadness. "I must take my leave... and you as well must go." He turned to leave, but Faramir stopped him.

"Wait."

The boy faced him again, curiously.

"Will you ask my brother to visit me often, please?" asked the elder Faramir.

The boy smiled. "He will. I needn't ask him. You are, after all, his younger brother. He will always guard over you." Faramir acknowledged this with a soft smile and a nod.

"Tell him I love him, please," he said, feeling hot tears streak his face, revealing his grief. The boy nodded calmly.

He gave the still-kneeling Faramir a kiss on the brow. "You've always honored us, and you always will."

Faramir bid the boy farewell with sorrow, and the boy gently waved at him as he walked towards his brother, the same gentle smile on his face. The two young brothers joined hands, and their merry voices of delighted laughter slowly faded away from Faramir's ears as he sat hunched over, the tears still flowing.

After the brothers had disappeared out of sight, Faramir glanced down and nearly choked. A small scrap of metal attached to a wooden hilt lay at his knees, already dirtied by the ground. It was broken in two.

Thick, dense fog rolled toward Faramir, and the shadows of peaceful sleep engulfed him.