"Of these words we could understand little, and we spoke to our father, Denethor, Lord of Minas Tirith, wise in the lore of Gondor. This only would he say, that Imladris was of old the name of the Elves of a far norther dale, where Elrond the Halfelven dwelt, greatest of the lore-masters. Therefore, my brother, seeing how desperate was our need, was eager to heed the dream and seek for Imladris; but since the way was full of doubt and danger, I took the journey upon myself."
Boromir was becoming more and more eager to be gone upon his quest, if only because he could not take another moment of Faramir's relentless arguments.
"Please, Boromir, I beg you to reconsider," Faramir pleaded even as Boromir bustled about the stables saddling his horse. "By rights, I should be the one go upon this quest, for not only did I have the dream first and most often, I am the one who will be least missed by our father in these dark times and will therefore be forgiven most quickly for abandoning him." He followed at his brother's heels like a pathetic puppy, reduced now to desperate supplication after days of violent argument, cold silence, and biting insults had failed to make any impact upon his obstinate brother's resolution. They had even gone before their father and the council of elders with their dispute*, and despite both Faramir and Denethor's efforts to sway the eldest prince, Boromir's iron will had won the day. Boromir had been selected by the council to seek wisdom from the legendary Lord Elrond, and Faramir would remain behind to stand at his father's side.
"We have been over this many times, Faramir," Boromir replied quietly. "The way to Imladris is unknown to us, and all the roads north are fraught with peril. We cannot both go, and though I doubt not the stoutness of your heart, I know well the limits of your sword. It would be selfish and cowardly of me to allow you to go, knowing full well that greatness of mind will not avail you on such a quest, but rather the sort of skills I have been more blessed with. So I argued before the council, and they saw the wisdom of my judgement. Why cannot you? What kind of coldhearted wretch do you take me for, Faramir, that I would allow my brother to wander the wilderness in my stead?"
"What kind of coldhearted wretch do you take me for, that I would allow my brother to wander the wilderness in my stead?" Faramir fired back.
The two brothers faced each other across the stables, the air between them seeming to snap and spark with the force of their anger. Which softened first it was impossible to tell, but in an instant they were clinging to each other as though they were small, frightened children.
"Promise me you'll be prudent, and think before you speak," Faramir demanded. "Do not let your great heart overtake your judgement."
"I will do my best, poor though that might be without you at my side," Boromir replied with a wan smile. His grin faded away though, as mounted his horse and gazed down at his ever-faithful brother. He reached down to clasp his brother's outstretched hand with all the strength he could muster, and took comfort in the firmness and valor of Faramir's own grip. "Do not doubt that Father loves you, Faramir, even as I do."
Had Boromir's heart been able to bear looking back one last time as he rode off into the dusky evening, he would have seen the steadfast figure of his brother crumple to his knees in the hay and the forbidding figure of their father melt into the shadows, his eyes filled with tears.
"Loth was my father to give me leave, and long have I wandered by roads forgotten, seeking the House of Elrond, of which many had heard, but few knew where it lay."
* See "The Two Towers: The Window on the West"