So we're reading LotR in English and I rewatched the movies and was reminded why I ship Faramir and Eowyn. Seriously, those two are my babies and were my first hardcore non-canon (or so I believed since I saw the movies first, and not the extended edition) ship. Of course later on I learned that they were very canon, which made my shipper heart soar. Anyways, this popped into my head while watching RotK and I couldn't resist the plot bunnies! AU warning where there isn't Sauron but Orcs are still little pieces of shit and the Free Peoples of Middle Earth go to war more often. But this is happy ending fluffy with only some hurt/comfort, I swear! I could never do anything angsty for this pair! Also, in this the King of Gondor is always there, so Aragorn and other characters may appear later on in cameos, but the Steward helps handle more of the diplomatic stuff and greet guests when the King is busy and has a pretty active role in the government of Gondor. Just clearing that up.

Chapter I

7 Years Later

Faramir rode up alongside Boromir as they rode through the city. His brother was easily wielding a sword and controlling his horse at the same time, occasionally taking out Orcs that dared get to close.

"Boromir!" He yelled to his older brother, "We beat the orcs out of the Western Hold, there's only a few smatterings of the pests around in the city, and those at the Northern Gates, and they're almost contained!"

"Right than, let's go finish them off ourselves, shall we little brother? You up for going on foot and getting up close and personal?" Boromir grinned at his brother. He was a warrior through and through, always ready to battle and fight. Faramir smiled back, shifting his weapons into their sheaths.

"Let's go!" The two brothers leapt off their horses, jumping into the thick of things. Boromir was technically Commander of the Guard of Gondor, and didn't often tangle with the Gondor Rangers, since that was Faramir's turf (who had managed to become their Captain, no thanks to their father, through his skill alone) but Faramir had returned from his latest mission and Boromir had told him about Orcs and Uruk-hai raiding Osgiliath and suggested taking a combined regiment out to take care of it. When they did fight together, the brothers were a well-oiled machine, able to work together smoothly, and predict each other's moves.

And so they fought, taking down the Orcs and Uruk-hai that dared to come out of the bleak land of Mordor that they normally called home, and threaten their people.

"After this we'll have to celebrate with a nice drink and a hearty meal!" Boromir called to his brother.

"Don't forget one of your famously popular speeches!" Faramir replied. Boromir laughed. The battle grew more serious after that, as the orcs began to fight back with new ferocity. The brothers were separated slightly, pushed apart by a charge from a group of the vile creatures, but neither was worried. They could still sort of see each other, and each knew the other was an adept fighter and could handle himself. That was when things went horribly, disastrously, life-changingly wrong.

It began when a last group of Orc archers joined the assault. With his eyes already preoccupied with the ones closest to him, brandishing swords at his face, Boromir barely noticed them, and didn't spare them the attention. Faramir, however, with his trained Ranger's eyes, did see them, and grew concerned. With the orcs both in front, and above them, it was a bit of a tricky situation, and he knew it. As they strung their bows and aimed down at the two Gondorians, Faramir started to warn his brother. He didn't get a chance.

"Boromir-" the arrows flew with deadly precision down towards the brothers. "Boromir look out!" Faramir cried, ducking under one that would have hit him in the face. Boromir was not as fortunate. He turned to look, and found himself with an arrow in the chest. "BOROMIR!" Faramir screamed, shoving through the battle to get to his brother. Boromir stumbled, and paused, before forcing himself to continue the battle with a roar, ignoring the arrow embedded in his chest for the moment. But he didn't get far. A couple moments later, two more arrows found their mark in his diaphragm and stomach, and a third flew into his horn, breaking it on impact. Boromir fell to his knees, the battle still raging around him.

Everything was blurry, and strangely muted. He could hear the sounds of the battle around him, but they sounded as if they came from far off. Boromir was vaguely aware of his little brother screaming his name and coming to kneel in front of him, shaking him, and ordering him to hold on, and stay awake. He could see the fear and terror in Faramir's eyes, and wanted to comfort him. Faramir couldn't stay there though, he should know better. He had to finish the battle! Otherwise he'd get stabbed in the back by one of these low-lives. With a shaky voice he told his brother "Go," gesturing to the battle, which was quickly turning again in their favor. Faramir hesitated, once again ordering him to stay alive, before obeying, going to run the remainders of the orcs in the area off. The shock suddenly wearing off and the pain catching up with him, Boromir fell back, breathing heavily.

Faramir raced back to his big brother as fast as his legs could carry him. He fell to his knees beside Boromir, gripping the hand that was reached out to him in both of his.

"No...no no no no no..." He whispered in dismay as he saw where the arrows had hit. Tears began to fall down his face as his attention back towards his brother's. "Boromir, hold on!"

"It's too late." His brother said gently, knowing the inevitable. "I don't have much time left, and there is much I need to say before I die."

"Don't say that! There's still a chance! There must be a way! I can get you to the Houses of Healing still, and they'll save you, they have to!" Faramir said, beginning to panic. "You can't die, not now! You can't, Boromir please!"

"Faramir, Minas Tirith is several miles away, you can't get me to the Houses of Healing in time." Boromir said, raising a hand to hold his brother's shoulder weakly. "It's alright. Give father my love, and Eowyn my regards."

"Boromir-" Faramir choked back a sob, tears falling freely now.

"Take care of him, Faramir, you're all he has left now, and he needs you. Don't let go of her either. You'll need her. She's the best girl I could ask for as a sister, and I want you to be happy with her."

"Boromir, please!" His younger brother begged through his tears, clinging to his hand. "Please don't go! Father needs you! I need you! Please...please don't go!"

Boromir smiled sadly, summoning his last bit of strength to reach up to gently hold his brother's face and wipe the tears away. "Do not grieve for me forever, Faramir. Remember our happiest days, little brother. Remember the good times. Remember our time together as children, all our adventures, all our laughter." Boromir was struggling to continue speaking, tears running down his face now as well. "Remember the times...we played with Eowyn, and Eomer, and Theodred. Remember our carefree days, when we'd...when we would wrestle and run and play chase and tag together, you and I. And most of all, little brother, remember that...that I am proud of you. Remember that I love you, ...Faramir..." Boromir exhaled one last time, before becoming completely, deathly still. He would never breathe again.

Faramir broke down and sobbed, hugging his brother close and rocking him back and forth, screaming and crying for him to come back, to wake up, begging for it to be just a bad dream. But he knew in his heart that it wasn't. He knew his brother, his amazing, loving, supportive, playful older brother had died in his arms, and that he couldn't save him. Boromir died in his arms. And he wept. He wept until he couldn't cry any more tears, and his men were forced to tell him that they had to return to Minas Tirith. He had to go back to his home and tell his father, tell Eowyn, tell everyone that his brother, Gondor's finest and most beloved warrior, had died in combat, killed by orcs. He almost broke down again at the thought. But he pulled himself together through sheer force of will. Before they began the ride back to the city, he insisted they lay Boromir to rest properly. He deserved that much. So they placed him in one of their spare boats, removing the arrows from his body, and placing his sword in his hands, crossing them over his chest, so it lay across the center of his torso. Faramir insisted on sending it off in the river himself, and pulled the great boat into the water, pushing it off along the currents of the River Anduin, towards whatever final destination it would find. He remained there for several minutes, knee deep in the water, staring at the disappearing boat and the loved one it contained, until one of the other Rangers called to him, and he turned and mounted his horse, riding in silence and grief back to his home.