Chapter 19

When the Wizard said Faramir would save the world, Faramir hoped he meant that he would become a Captain of Gondor when he was twenty-six. That happened. But he still hadn't made his father proud. Faramir supposed he never would.

His brother had become a renowned captain of Gondor, joyously winning battles against the Orcs of Mordor. Boromir, in Faramir's eyes, was now the greatest Captain that had ever served in Gondor's military. Boromir made everyone proud, and his younger brother was no exception.

Faramir, now twenty-six, was relieved and thankful when he found time alone in the archery range. He didn't know where his brother and father were, but he was happy that he had this time alone.

He knocked an arrow and shot the target. Perfect . His archery skills had improved beyond belief, even to himself. Denethor showed some interest in his younger son's improvements, but Boromir's shine distracted Denethor from Faramir's glow. Faramir knew it wasn't his brother's fault.

He found it odd. He was an adult! Children were the ones who sought their father's guidance and pride. But…why was he searching? He still wanted his father to notice him, to love him, to say, "I'm proud of you." Boromir had heard it often enough.

Was Faramir jealous? He supposed not. It was just the way things were. But still..his father…

Denethor had changed. He seemed older than he should've aged. He had sometimes retreated to his Palantir. He would disappear for what seemed to be hours. He would return grayer, darker, farther away from the world. He was more distant, even from Boromir.

Faramir tossed these thoughts aside, realizing that he was wasting his precious time alone in the range.

He knocked yet another arrow, and shot. "Perfect again." Faramir smirked.

"Little brother?" A familiar thirty-one year old called into the range.

"I'm in here Boromir!" Faramir shot again.

"Here you are! I've been looking for you. I wanted to speak with you about the dream."

"Do you mean the dream about Imladris?"

"Yes."

"I've had it twice. I still don't know." He shot again.

"I've talked to Father," Boromir began. "He says that Imladris is the Elvish name for Rivindell, a city of Elves."

Faramir shot one final arrow, again a direct hit. "And the dream told us to go there."

"There's one other thing." Boromir put his hand on the bow to discontinue his brother's streak. "Lord Elrond of Rivindell has summoned a council, Gondor is invited to attend. The council feels you to be qualified to go to Rivindell."

Faramir hid his shock. "Really?"

Boromir could see right through his brother, see the shock and energy, and he smiled. "I believe that the meeting is about a weapon of the Enemy, though these are just rumors."

Faramir was speechless. Doubt hung from his heart and he felt only these words come to his mouth. Isildur's Bane! The council thought that he was qualified! Did they have any idea how much of a responsibility this was!

"Is the council not certain that you're not more qualified to go to Rivindell?" Faramir cursed the worry in his voice.

Boromir looked as shocked as Faramir had previously. "Faramir! You've been waiting for this! You're old enough! You will have the representation of Gondor…the race of Men! At least look excited! I know that it's a big jump but you're going to be great!"

The extra vote of confidence in his ability made Faramir slightly calmer. Did his father approve? Did he? Yes! He must have! Denethor wouldn't allow Faramir out of the city unless he approved.

"When do we prepare to leave?"

"Soon. But we still have a few minutes." Boromir smiled and grabbed a bow and a few arrows from the arsenal.

"Are you sure?" Faramir stammered. "D-Did he say when?"

"Who?"

"Father."

Boromir looked calm, peaceful, and if anything…assured. "We still have a few minutes. Trust me."

"Maybe we should leave now."

Boromir chuckled as he knocked his arrow. "You're till the timid one." He aimed at the target, his clumsiness clear to even an amateur. He hissed in a breath, aimed once more, and shot. It landed five inches below the target.

Boromir cursed, not knowing why he hoped his brother didn't hear it.

Faramir smirked teasingly. "I may be the timid one, but I can hit the target."

Boromir sneered. "Don't make fun of me just because I miss the target."

Faramir feigned shock. "Why my lord Boromir! You don't just miss the target! You miss the range!" He knocked another bow, chuckling to himself.

Boromir casually looked towards the window, waiting until his brother pulled the string back. When he knew it was time, he used his bow to bump his brother's. Faramir jumped, startled, let the string go. The arrow pierced six inches below the target.

Boromir gaped. "Faramir, you're now at my level!"

Faramir wagged his bow in Faramir's face. "That's not fair your lordship!"

"Fair enough!" Both brothers laughed hysterically.

"Um-hmph-milords?" a timid voice squeaked.

Boromir turned his head to the page. "Yes? Speak quickly!"

"Your father would like you to see him in the throne room."

"Thank you."

Faramir frowned. Had Boromir forgotten this child so quickly? "Bergil, how are you?"

Bergil's eyes widened. "I am fine, Lord Faramir. Thank you." He stammered, unsure, "How are you?"

Faramir nearly laughed, but didn't. "I am fine as well. Are you practicing for your sword training? Your father tells me that you want to be a soldier of Gondor."

"Yes sir. I am practicing."

"That's good."

Bergil nodded, comfortable yet nervous.

Boromir spoke before Faramir could. "You are dismissed."

Bergil ran off.

Boromir stared at Faramir, wide-eyed, yet smiling. They began walking to the throne room. "Aside from being timid, you were also the more social one of us."

"I doubt it."

"I don't talk to the pages. You have a gift brother. It's a gift that I don't think that I could have. I think that I'm too much like Father and you're like Mother."

Faramir had to take long strides to keep up with his brother. "What do you mean?"

Boromir shook his head. "It's not wrong to be more like Mother."

Faramir rolled his eyes. "Father doesn't seem to think so."

Boromir snapped, "It doesn't matter what Father thinks, it never has! You're qualified for this meeting. Don't forget that. I'm proud of you."

Faramir learned to hide his large smile as a child. He practiced it now. "Thank you."

"What do you mean?!" Boromir almost shouted.

"Are you against going to Rivindell in Faramir's stead?"

"Faramir was supposed to attend!" Boromir protested, nearly forgetting that Faramir was next to him, in disappointed grief and shock.

Denethor kept calm. His voice was low, hiding from any eavesdroppers. Faramir had to strain his ears to listen. "If the rumors are true and the weapon of the Enemy is there, then I need you to go and claim it. This must be our responsibility! Our people are dying by the hand of Sauron, not the Elves, Wizards, Dwarves…us! We must have control of this weapon!"

Boromir shook his head. "No. My place is here, among my people."

Faramir spoke up. "I shall go to Rivindell. I will go in Boromir's stead."

"You?" Denethor mocked. "You feel qualified to travel all the way to Rivindell?" Denethor's smile was unforgiving.

"The council feels that I am qualified to go to Rivindell and represent Gondor." Faramir tried to copy Boromir's voice. He found it uncanny and childish to still be copying his brother, but how else would his father notice him? "I am of age and a captain of Gondor. If I may say, I am the one to take this assignment."

"I know my two sons better than the Council," Denethor reprimanded, his voice soft and devilish. "Boromir will go to Rivindell and retrieve the weapon of the Enemy. He won't fail me."

For the rest of the day, those words stung Faramir. He supposed it was true…no, he knew it was true. While he was Captain, he had lost many battles, including losing Osgiliath to the Orcs of Mordor. Boromir had to, so to speak, come in and rescue him. After the battle, Denethor specifically came to Osgiliath to congratulate Boromir…and to trash Faramir…in his face. Boromir took Denethor aside and tried to convince Denethor that Faramir helped as much as Boromir, but his father, once he formed an opinion, kept it.

Boromir was more qualified to go to Rivindell. It was almost unthinkable that Faramir would go…wasn't it?

He tried to hide that he wanted to go, because he knew that his brother wanted to as well. Boromir was just hiding it because his brother finally getting a chance was more important than improving his glory.

He was strolling through the gardens, sorting through his thoughts. He didn't know why he was so upset.

He saw a female gardener. She was weeding. Quickly, he puffed out his chest and strappingly walked to her. "Hello." Better than not saying anything, he thought.

The woman, hair falling from her pins, sweat making her face shine, started, and bean to straighten herself out. She stood and bowed to the steward's son.

"Please, no need to be formal. What's your name?"

She still hesitated. "Jayda, milord."

"Jayda," Faramir repeated. "Pretty name. How old are you?"

"Twenty-five, milord."

Faramir hesitated. He couldn't be the one talking. It was too…uncomfortable. "You-you…"

Jayda smiled a bit. "I have heard from gossip that either you or your brother is to travel to Rivindell."

"Yes." Faramir hoped that his relief that she was now talking wasn't evident. "He is going instead of me, however."

Jayda smiled. "I guessed as much."

Faramir bit his lip. "He is more qualified."

"Yes, with his battle experience, valor, and handsomeness," she cooed, looking at the garden, blushing.

Faramir nodded. "Yes, but those aren't the qualities that I see in him, since I am not a woman." Oh, I am so stupid! So stupid! So very stupid!

Jayda nodded, giggling, still staring at the garden. "Your brother is leaving?"

"Yes. Uh, I have to go. I'll see you around." I am so very, very, very stupid!

"Goodbye milord."

Faramir smiled politely. When she disappeared from sight, he hissed in a breath and kicked the wall. "I am so stupid!"

It was in the stables where Faramir saw Boromir next. "Are you scared to go?" he asked teasingly.

Boromir shoved his brother on the head playfully. "No. I suppose you're not jealous?"

"No. I'll have the women around me. You'll be lonely."

"Are you sure you'll be happy with that. They can get pretty…dangerous. We aren't getting our golden haired, blue eyed angels." He laughed.

Faramir laughed with him. "I'd rather stay here and help Bergil learn to use the sword, though I may be better at teaching him with the bow and arrow."

Boromir continued to pack for the long trip. After a while, he said, "I'm sorry that I couldn't convince Father that you were the one to go."

"Just forget it," Faramir ordered. The sharpness of his voice surprised even him. "I'm not a child anymore. You don't have to watch over my every fall."

Boromir nodded. "I'm sorry. Father's just…"

"He's been changing," Faramir finished. "He seems to separate himself from everyone, haven't you noticed?"

Boromir nodded, grieved. "Don't listen to Father. You haven't failed him or your country, not once. Remember that, little brother."

Faramir nodded. The two brothers hugged. An unexpected wave of grief washed over them, and they hugged tighter, not knowing why. Faramir felt as if…as if this was the last time…no. Nothing was the last time.

Faramir still hugged his brother. "I love you, brother."

Boromir shoved him away. "Love you too." He was scared of any surrounding soldiers.

Boromir mounted his horse. "I will be back in a few months at best."

Faramir smirked. "Remember to flirt with the Elven ladies, or better yet the Rohan maidens. I want a nephew."

Boromir glared at his little brother. "Don't get on my back about that. Father is already torturing me."

Faramir whispered, "Get me a nephew, future Steward!"

Boromir shook his head. "Shut up."

He left.

Faramir shouted across the way, "Don't lose your horse! Keep it in your sight!"

"Why would I lose it?" Boromir shouted back.

Faramir laughed, sorry that his brother was leaving. He didn't know why he had these feelings of regret, sadness, and…a feeling that said he didn't spend a good goodbye with his brother. He felt like he would never see him again.

"Just stop it," Faramir told himself. "You'll see him again."