Part Two:

            Faramir moved slowly through the gardens in the predawn light, leaving a trail of darkened footprints behind him in grass lightly touched with frost. He breathed deep of the chill air, feeling it clear his head. He kept walking, facing forward, staring out at what lay before him, never once turning to look where he had been, knowing the view held only heartache.

            He trailed his hands over the worn bark of a tree, stepping carefully over the gnarled roots that broke through the even plains of the earth beneath his feet. He remembered so many carefree moments, shielded from the bright light of the sun by the tender branches of the proud tree. He and his brother, their laughter ringing in the air as they had fallen to the ground here, their chests quickly rising and falling from their dash across the grounds. It did not hurt him now to remember his brother as he had been when only a child, it was the memories of the man, of his lover that pained Faramir.

            He allowed himself to remember golden days, the warmth steeling him against the chill fingers of the early morning that crept over him. He recalled the countless hours they had spent here, laughing, resting, exchanging childhood confidences, or merely just lying still, content to be silent for a spell.

            Without even thinking what he was doing, Faramir laid down on the grass, ignoring the icy feel of the half-frozen earth beneath his body. He looked up at the tangled leaves that had sheltered him so many days, the view so familiar it was easy to imagine that he was still a child. He turned his head, seeing in his mind his brother lying next to him. Not the man he knew but the child he remembered.

            Faramir smiled at the memory of the boy who he’d always looked up to. As a child he’d always imagined the world had revolved around Boromir, for how could it not? How could the world not stand back and simply be in awe of him? Yet Faramir had grown up, and the scales had fallen from his eyes. He had seen the faults of this man, the weaknesses.

Faramir believed that his love was truer for all of that. He no longer looked upon his brother with the eyes of a child, he had watched him grow into a man and he had fallen in love with the man that boy had become. The man that through all his faults had only been the more human. That was the difference, when he had appeared perfect, he had always been untouchable, unreachable. There always seemed a part of him that he held back from his brother.

Boromir as a man was all the richer, the more beautiful for his faults. Then he had allowed his brother to love him the way Faramir had always wanted, had known that he came first in his brother’s heart. That every trouble that marred his proud brow would be shared with his brother. It seemed only natural that their love should change the way it had. That one day Faramir would no longer look upon his brother as his sibling, but see him as a man. The beauty of that man had taken his breath away, had moved him as no other had.

Deep within himself, Faramir had known that this was a love that was not meant to be but he could not remember that when he felt his brother’s touch upon him. He could not remember as he looked upon the countenance of his brother, bathed in the glow of moonlight, that this should not be. How could it be so wrong when it felt more right than anything he had ever known?

            How could he look into the face of something he had never seen before and say that this was not love? He hungered for this, ached for the sense of completion he felt upon hearing those words softly whispered from another’s lips, knowing that he truly was loved. A love that was beautiful beyond anything he had ever known. It set his blood on fire.

He had found everything that he had longed for; found what everyone longs for in some secret part of their heart. That he found this love in one who was his kin could not change things. It could not change how he felt, what he thought, and could not spend him of his love. He could not deny it and could find no desire within him to try.

            He got to his feet when shivers began to make his frame shake, making his way wearily back to his chambers and to a steaming hot bath.

*   *   *  

            The day had been long. Faramir was weary both from its events and from his lack of sleep the night before. And the night before that. After lying awake in the darkness of the night for far too long, Faramir finally got out of his bed, leaving the silence of his chambers and moving slowly down the silent hall. He knew not where he was going, just hoped that this might aid his restlessness.

            The night was silent. He stopped at one window, stepping into the cold glow of the moon, gazing out at the world before him, glazed with the diamond sheen of the frost. A delicate layer of ice that coated everything in sight, dazzling to the eye in the moonlight, giving a slight sparkle to even the darkest of shadows.

            He found himself in the library, wandering slowly around the room. He stooped to build a small fire before settling himself in a chair near its warmth, knowing that it would be some time before sleep came to him tonight.

            Faramir took a book from the shelves that lined the walls, flipping idly through the pages before setting it aside and staring into the bright flames before him. The dancing red-orange of the fire blurred before his eyes as he stared vacantly into its depths, not seeing what was before him, merely losing himself in thoughts, the sounds reaching his ears as though from a great distance.

“What occupies your mind, my brother?”

            Faramir looked up in surprise at the voice. Boromir grinned back at him from the chair opposite as he had so many times before.

“Thought of mischief, no doubt,” his brother continued, the soft sound of his laughter blending with the sounds of the fire, becoming something so familiar Faramir knew it by heart, had heard it so many times surely it must be engrained in his very skin. A sound that brought to mind countless other nights like this, the chill dark held at bay by both the slow warmth of the flames by his side and the comforting presence of his brother seated across from him. So many nights he had sat here, held a heated mug of mulled wine loosely in his slender fingers, skin tingling from the warmth. Long hours had melted into what seemed like mere minutes while he listened to the slow steady cadence of his brother’s voice.

            He remembered one particular night when he had sat as one under a spell, and he had been. Enchanted by the musical flow of his brother’s voice, by the dark words that flowed smoothly from his lips. Boromir had a voice made for such things, to spin a web of words that intoxicated all who listened. A voice whose husky timbre was meant for whispering silken words of passion into a lover’s ear, its rough texture sending chills down Faramir’s spine as he listened to his brother.

            He did not know what else to call it but making love, for he could think of no more fitting explanation for the way his brother’s words had flowed so effortlessly from his lips, caressing his brother without laying a single finger upon his body. No other phrase could capture the simple sensuality of his words.

            Faramir shook himself from his thoughts, turning to his brother, smiling softly at the familiar beauty that greeted his eyes, “What have I been thinking? Many things, my love, both great and small.”

            Boromir eyed him in amusement, “I know you well, my brother. I am sure your thoughts are occupied by a pretty new maid you have seen this day.”

“No, I have greater things on my mind tonight,” Faramir returned with the characteristic seriousness he always embodied when his brother mentioned such a thing.

“Now, let tonight not be a time for such dark thoughts,” Boromir said softly, “Tonight let us be as we once were, let nothing more intercede upon your mind.”

            Faramir smiled slowly at that, his smile reaching his eyes, and with a slow nod, “Yes, let us have that once more,” he said slowly, as one awakening from a dream.

“Tell me then what brings you here at this hour when you should be soundly asleep like all others here,” Boromir said, slipping easily into the role of the elder brother who always knew what was best for his younger sibling.

“Thoughts of you are why sleep evades me,” Faramir replied, his voice soft in the dimly lit room, remembering another fateful night his brother had asked him that same question. It was years ago that it had happened, though from this distance it seemed another life altogether, the passage of time being clouded from Boromir’s loss.

            He had been unable to sleep that night, kept awake by lingering thoughts of Boromir. Thoughts he knew he should not have but they would not be held back. He had come upon his brother here, staring into the glowing embers, all that had remained of the fire. His face had been shadowed as he got to his feet, his voice low as he had questioned his brother as to why he wondered the halls at so late an hour. Such a brotherly question to ask.

            Faramir has looked into his eyes, those familiar eyes that he had seen every day of his life, and seen something in their depths he had never seen before. He had known immediately that he must confess to his brother tonight. If he did not say those words that hung so heavily on his mind, he knew that he might never say them.  

            He had finally spoken, fateful words they were, his stomach in knots, his voice so low that he wasn’t even sure that his brother could hear him. He had though. The silence after his words had been the most exhilarating and terrifying of his life as he awaited his brother’s response.

            Finally Boromir had spoken, his eyes dark with unvoiced passion, “It seems that we both find sleep distant this night for those reasons. Thoughts of you are all I have when I lay myself down to sleep at night. I feared you would think less of me had I told you.”

            Faramir had pulled his brother close, finally allowing himself to hold him the way he had wished to for so long now.

“I could never think ill of you, Boromir. Never. How much worry we could have saved ourselves had one of us spoken earlier,” he said with a small laugh, feeling it fade away as his brother’s arms tightened around his body.

“I never imagined that I would have you in my arms,” Boromir had murmured, “Not like this,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“Nor I. In my mind, so many times have I played out a scene like this, telling myself what a fool I was to think it could ever be true all the while.”

“Then I have been a fool also,” Boromir had said softly, pushing a lock of softly curling hair from his brother’s eyes before finally leaning in and kissing Faramir, long and slow.

            Everything had changed for Faramir that night though he had never looked back.

“I see I have lost you to your thoughts once more,” his brother said, studying Faramir in amusement. “What must I do to warrant such attention from you, I wonder?”

“You always have my attention,” Faramir replied honestly, “My thoughts are still of you.”

“Are your thoughts truly of your brother?” Boromir asked, his expression curious.

“Too often they are on you,” Faramir returned with a low chuckle, “All through the day you are present in my mind.”

“And during the night?” Boromir’s voice grew lower as he spoke.

“Ah, the night. Memories of you drive me to distraction. When sleep finally comes to me, I dream of you.”

            Boromir sighed softly, “What have I done to receive such fervor and loyalty from one so fine as you, my brother?” He stared the short distance across the room to his brother, his skin flawless in the firelight.

“I had you to call my own, that would inspire such feelings in any man.”

“I am but a man,” Boromir said softly, “You will make a martyr of me.”

            Faramir laughed at that, “There is hardly any danger of that. I do not think you perfect, I know you much too well.”

            Boromir sat watching his brother as he spoke, not moving, nor showing any outwardly sign that he had heard what was just said though he had not missed a single syllable.

“You have no response to that?” Faramir asked, his eyes sparkling brightly as they always did when he teased his brother.

“What does one say to that? Shall I invite you to list my faults?” Boromir returned, unable to retain his solemn expression as his brother smiled warmly at him across the room.

“And yet I love you still.”

“In spite of my faults?” His brother questioned, cocking his head to one side.

“Because of them.”

            Boromir studied his brother in silence for several moments once more, something he was taken to doing. “Why would you love someone for their faults?”

“Why?” Faramir asked, his voice lightly tinged with surprise. “You know me well enough to understand how I think.”

“True enough, yet I wish to hear you say it. Nothing fascinates me more than the workings of your mind, brother.”

            Faramir well remembered those words from so many other conversations they had had. It failed him to understand why his brother was intrigued by this, but it seemed he was and so Faramir always obliged him.

“It is the faults that make a person, that define them,” he said patiently, “They are what make a person human, endear them to another. This is not to say that I do not love you for your strengths as well as your weaknesses but you cannot love perfection the way you can love something that is flawed. The love itself for something perfect is blemished. It can never grow but must always remain as it is. With something flawed, you can appreciate it in ways that perfection does not allow.”

“What does perfection allow for then?” Boromir asked thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving his brother as he spoke.

“Admiration, perhaps. Not love.”

“I am still unsure at times that it was positive that you grew out of thinking me beyond flaws,” Boromir finally said, “Surely it was simpler.”

“You would not wish for that, I am sure,” Faramir said with a reminiscent smile, “Soon you would have tired of such naïve adulation, Boromir. It is wearisome.”

“That may be true, but there are certainly moments when such adulation would not go amiss.”

            Faramir smiled at his brother, realizing how he missed the simplicity of such banter between them. Despite that he could not hold back the wide yawn that overtook him, a wave of exhaustion crashing over him.

“You tire.”

“It is no matter,” Faramir said dismissively, wishing for nothing more than to prolong these moments, feeling his eyelids grow heavier even as he spoke.

            Boromir got to his feet, crossing over to his brother’s side in two easy strides.

“Come with me,” he said smoothly, reaching down and pulling his brother to his feet. Faramir started at the feel of his brother’s hand on him once again before relaxing into the simple caress.

            The walk back to his room seemed infinitely shorter with his brother by his side than it had been earlier this night when he had traversed these lonely halls by himself. They moved across the shadowy length of Faramir’s bedchamber, Boromir’s arm settling easily around the other man’s waist, holding the familiar frame close to him.

            To Faramir’s surprise, Boromir pulled back the covers of his bed, treating his brother as though he were naught but a child. Still, Faramir slid gratefully between the bedclothes, suddenly so drowsy it was all he could do to keep his eyes open. Boromir smoothed his brother’s hair back from his forehead and Faramir could not resist the impulse to lean into the soft slide of familiar hands against his hair.

            It had been far too long since someone had been there for him, if only for a gentle caress or to sit with him until he fell asleep, understanding that he did not like the dark silence as he waited for sleep to claim him. Not now. The dark silence was too saturated with loudly echoing thoughts that would not give him peace, that refused to let him be.

The love apparent in every caress would have brought tears to his eyes had he not been too weary to contemplate anything other than the haven sleep presented this moment.

            Faramir awoke with a start. He looked around the darkened room in confusion. The fire had burned down to barely glowing embers in the grate and the library was dark once more. Looking over to the chair opposite him, Faramir half expected to see the familiar face of his brother smiling back at him. It was empty as it had been when he fell asleep.

            Getting slowly to his feet, Faramir moved silently down the silent halls, a solitary figure in the pale wash of moonlight that flooded his way. He could not help but be conscious of the fact that no familiar figure moved next to him, that his footsteps were the only sound in the hall tonight.

            His bedchamber was dark and silent when he entered and settled himself in his cold bed. He pulled the covers up tight under his chin, still clinging to warmth of his dream as he waited for sleep to return to him. Sleep would not come soon enough without the gentle warmth of his brother’s hand against his hair, tracing lazy circles across his skin.

            It was just him and the darkness this night.

Back: