A/N: Further to a review I received from sara beth, I've realised that the formatting was messed up in this chapter - my apologies for that. Should now be clearer. Thanks for pointing it out.
The two men sat outside, wrapped warmly in their cloaks, the cold breeze blowing their dark hair around. The moon was full and they had no need for torches. Boromir sat with his head in his hands; Faramir's grey eyes stared keenly out into the night as they both listened to the waters of Henneth Ann?, pouring down to enter the pool below.
"What do you think they're plotting, Boromir?" he asked quietly. "I am sure it cannot be coincidence."
"Perhaps, perhaps not," replied Boromir, standing and beginning to pace around the small area at the entrance to the cave. "I do not think we should panic yet. We cannot know what their thoughts are, if indeed they have any more than to simply scout out the land. I think we should set watch, send for reinforcements, and then do our own scouting."
Sighing, Faramir nodded his agreement. "It worries me, Boromir. I cannot see why they would suddenly reappear without some deeper meaning to it... it seems illogical." At this Boromir laughed.
"I must say that I have never thought of orcs as the most logical of creatures."
Faramir smiled weakly. "Perhaps not, but they do not seem to lack quantity, whatever their qualities may be."
-----
"Well, brother," Boromir said gloomily as he came into the cave, "I think we are probably safe from the orcs for a while." Since the first sighting three weeks ago, there had been only three further incidents, all within the four following days. Boromir was restless again, having spent the last two weeks scouting the area for no apparent reason. He was resentful of having missed the fun on the day of his journey from Minas Tirith, and having only been present at one of the other encounters he was thoroughly disgruntled. Faramir looked at him and laughed, shaking his head.
"When you came here there had been no hint of orc activity for months - were you expecting something spectacular?" Boromir gave a half-shrug and slumped in a chair, pulling off his baldric and holding the silver-tipped horn in his hands.
"I think I'm going to head back to the city tomorrow," he said, running his hand through his hair. "There's nothing to do here."
"I might join you." Faramir grinned, clearly pleased at having surprised his brother. "I haven't seen Father in a while and you're right, there isn't much to do here. There hasn't been for a while and if you hadn't turned up bringing orcs in your wake I might have left a couple of weeks ago. Although I'm not sure Father will be glad to see me."
Boromir squirmed uncomfortably in his chair and looked down, focusing his eyes on a small spider making its way across the cave floor.
"It's not that bad you know," he said in an attempt at a comforting tone, although even to his own ears it sounded patronising. Faramir looked at him understandingly.
"You don't have to pretend. He can't stand to look at me; I remind him of Mother." He glanced at Boromir, who was deliberately attempting to ignore him and willing him to stop. To his relief, after a pause, Faramir changed the subject. "Who shall we leave in charge? There may be nothing to deal with at the moment, but I fear that could change at any time; the days grow darker."
"I think Mablung and Damrod are the clear choice." Boromir spoke quickly to avoid returning to the awkward matter of their father. "They know the land better than anyone, and they are quite capable of directing any necessary fights." Nodding, Faramir stood up and gestured to the rangers who stood at the cave entrance, beckoning them over.
"Boromir and I leave tomorrow for Minas Tirith, and you are to take charge whilst we are gone. We shall take four of the men with us - you may choose them as you see fit."
"Very well Captain Faramir, Boromir." Mablung bowed slightly. "At what hour will you depart tomorrow?"
"Early, I think," replied Faramir, looking to Boromir for confirmation.
"Just after dawn, I should imagine. It would be as well to arrive in time for dinner, don't you think?" Boromir grinned at his brother. "A nice roast pig would be quite something." Rolling his eyes, Faramir agreed. "And it certainly wouldn't do me any harm to walk through the city in daylight and see the young ladies either." At this Faramir frowned slightly, but Boromir waved his hand at him.
"It does no harm to look, brother. I do nothing wrong by them. I simply admire the way they brighten up the appearance of a place. I'm sure I'm not the only one," he said, winking at Damrod. Damrod stared back disapprovingly, and Boromir recalled too late that these men, unlike himself, tended to adhere to the rather stern upbringing they had had. Faramir too for that matter; perhaps he was a little more lenient and light-hearted than the two rangers, but in his attitude towards women he was nothing but respectful, if a little distant. The silence was awkward, and Boromir tried to cover it with a cough. "Ahem... so... dawn then. Goodnight, friends."
-----
The ride to Minas Tirith was uneventful. They rode in silence for the most part; Faramir seemed to be wrapped up in his own thoughts, and Boromir, uncertain of their tendency, felt that it was best not to enquire. Instead he contented himself with looking towards the horizon, anticipating the glorious moment when the city would appear in front of him. He was alert as they rode through the bare trees of Ithilien, stripped as they currently were of their greenery; the fallen leaves of autumn still covered the ground, crunching softly under the horses' hooves. As they drew closer to the city, Boromir began to relax, and once they passed the out-walls of Rammas Echor he began calling out friendly greetings whenever they encountered one of the herdsmen who lived in the wide fields.
At last Minas Tirith came into view, and both the brothers began to urge their horses to a quicker pace, eager to end the journey as soon as possible. They reached the great iron gates and began the climb to the topmost tier, but were surprised to find that the city was strangely busy, with people - a lot of them women, Boromir noticed, although he thought it wise not to comment on this to his brother - standing in the streets and gossiping. Bemused, the two men glanced at each other, then both shrugged. Curious, Faramir approached a middle-aged woman, who was standing in a doorway and watching those who stood in the street.
"Good afternoon," he said with a smile, "Could you tell us what all the excitement is about?"
"Oh, it's just that old wizard Gan- wait! Aren't you-" She stopped abruptly and covered her reddening cheeks. "Oh goodness, I'm sorry sir," she said with a hasty curtsey, "I didn't realise it was you... I mean... oh goodness..." Smiling gently at her, Faramir took the woman's hand.
"There is no need to be so agitated, my lady. I'm sure I don't deserve it. Might I ask your name?"
"It's - it's Giriel, sir."
"Giriel. And is that your husband?" asked Faramir, indicating the man standing in the house, only just visible from Boromir's standpoint.
"Yes sir. Belemung is his name, sir. And that there - forgive my babbling - that's my daughter." She pointed towards a pretty blonde woman standing with a group of people outside.
"You must be very proud, my lady," said Faramir with a smile. "Did you say that Gandalf has come to the city?"
"Yes sir," replied Giriel, nodding eagerly. "He arrived yesterday. I think he's been to see your father, begging your pardon sir..."
Boromir lost interest in the conversation. Mithrandir was far too intellectual for his liking. It was all very well for Faramir, who seemed to prefer reading to fighting, but it wasn't quite to Boromir's taste. His gaze turned back to the group in the street, and he leaned against the wall watching them.
"Come on, Boromir," said Faramir with a grin, standing directly in his eye line. "Let's go and find out what Gandalf's up to this time." Rolling his eyes, Boromir followed him reluctantly up the street, hoping that he would be able to avoid an audience with the old man.