(no subject)
Title: Silence
Author: soleta
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Boromir/Faramir
AN: For y2jai, for the slashy_letters Valentine's Day ficathon. She asked for Boromir/Faramir, a reunion, and not too angsty; I am almost mentally incapable of not writing first-time stories, they're far too much fun.
It could have been so many things instead of indefinable. If he could have put it in a category, learned its meaning and its purpose, perhaps he could have dismissed it, this uncertain something that lingered on the air. No perfumes could dispel it, nor incense mask it; perhaps it was ingrained in his very nose, and he would always carry it with him.
His head met the wood of his chair with a soft thunk and when it came, his voice was quite unlike itself, small and somehow defeated. "Brother, what have you done to me?"
-
"The servants of the Eye will not show mercy, nor pity. They were bred to do one thing: kill." He paced up and down the line of raw trainees, restless, merciless himself, the recruits whispered with wide eyes. “Yet they are also cowards, but vicious, like cornered animals. Press a cornered animal too hard, and it will lash out with tooth and claw and nail.” He stopped and fixed the trainee in front of him with hard eyes. "What I am trying to tell you is that if you have a chance to kill an orc, do it, or it will do that or worse after you turn your back." He stepped up close to the young soldier. "Do you understand me?"
The young man nodded furiously, not sure if he was more frightened of his captain or the orcs at that precise moment.
"Good. Their armor is weak at the joins; the workmanship is shoddy, and they do not rely on it. You must get past their guard first..." He continued on, mainly oblivious to the whispered conversation behind him.
"I’ve never seen him like this."
"I have."
"How can we force him to stop? I tell you, even now, he could hold off any three of us, and none wish to try."
"There’s only one man among us who can force him to rest. If we can’t reason with him, we must tire him until he is forced to seek his bed. Perhaps when he arrives, Captain Faramir can -"
"What did you say?" Boromir swung around, the longbow in his hand nearly as tall as he was; an arrow was cocked on the string, and he held it carelessly; the two men didn’t like the look in his eyes and stepped back before realizing what they were doing.
"My lord." They both bowed, and the shorter continued. "Captain Faramir returns today. He sent an outrider ahead to report and give due notice."
"Notice." Boromir slowly approached the two veterans. "To my father."
The two men held their ground uneasily. "Yes, my lord. The Lord Denethor commanded the Citadel guard to bring Captain Faramir to him not two hours past."
Boromir took the arrow off the string and tossed both it and the longbow towards them. "Show them the basics, then let them retire for the midday meal. If I do not return, drill them in formation, then give them the rest of the day off."
"But, my Lord -"
"Their discipline -"
Boromir strode off without acknowledging their words, his cape floating behind him on the slight breeze, and the two soldiers sighed and turned to the trainees in unison. "Right. You’re ours now," and when they smiled, the trainees sighed. They knew that smile. It invariably meant their life was about to become much harder.
-
He found them, as he expected, in the antechamber to his father's bedroom. It had become so fixed in his brother's memory, the associations so pronounced, that his brother sometimes had nightmares. This was the scene of his father’s worst lectures, his rare outbursts, and if either of them was ever beaten, it was here that the deed was performed. Faramir would not step foot in this place without a direct order, and Boromir acknowledged within himself a rare reluctance to do the same.
He slowed as he approached the door and heard the raised voices. "But Father -"
"But nothing! This is the last time I trust you with anything of import." His father’s voice was rough with familiar contempt and Boromir found himself with his hand on the latch, furious with his father and ready to jump to his brother’s defense, but the door was opening under his hand and he flattened himself against the inside wall.
Faramir stepped out into the corridor, fatigue evident in the curve of his back, and caught sight of Boromir as he shut the door. His face lit up and he started to speak, but caught himself and inclined his head questioningly. Boromir nodded.
They made their way in silence to their favorite place to just sit and talk, to be alone in the middle of a crowded city. It was a footnote in the records, a room of the white stone found so commonly in the cliffs nearby, with a small bench under a withered tree, open to the sun.
"Why did you send to him and not to me?"
Faramir sighed. "You know why." He sat on the bench and brought his feet up under him, getting as comfortable as possible. "I wanted to get it over and done with." He smiled brightly up at his brother, still on his feet looming over him. "Besides, I wanted to surprise you."
"That you did," Boromir admitted. He gave up and unbuckled his sword, leaning it against the bench, and sat next to his brother. "I let the training class break early and gave them the afternoon off."
"You let them go early? My brother, the famous taskmaster?" Faramir laughed, bright and happy in the midday sun. "You’ll ruin your reputation if you keep that up."
"I’ll work them into the ground if any of them even thinks about it, and you know it," Boromir said, stretching like a cat. "And they know that any slacking off, and they’ll be cleaning out the stables on the first level for a week."
Faramir pretended to shiver in abject terror, then laughed again. Coming from his mercurial brother, the sound pleased Boromir no end, and he smiled in return. "Tired?" he asked, as Faramir stifled a yawn.
"We rode straight through the night," Faramir agreed and leaned against Boromir, their sides pressed together. "I love horses, but I hate sleeping while riding. I may as well have not slept at all."
"Rest, then," Boromir murmured, leaning back against the tree. Faramir said nothing, but sagged further against Boromir, leaning his head on Boromir’s shoulder. Boromir leaned his own head back against the tree and stared unseeing up through the bare branches, watching them toss and shiver against an imaginary wind...
-
He was dreaming such a pleasant dream. He felt soothed, taken care of, aroused and gently mastered, and as he was stroked to completion he struggled to swallow the name that rose to his lips.
"Faramir!"
"Yes, brother?"
Boromir jerked awake with a start, then swore as he realized his breeches were wet. Faramir was still on the bench beside him, watching him with an unreadable expression on his face.
They had slept together on trips and such often enough that Boromir usually felt little to no shame to waking in his present state, but something about Faramir’s face and the expression he wore unnerved him.
Faramir raised his hand to his face and licked it.
Boromir’s eyes widened involuntarily. "You didn’t.
And Faramir smiled.
"You did." Boromir groaned. "Do you realize what you’ve done, little brother?"
"What we both apparently wanted," Faramir shot back, a smile touching his lips.
"We can’t."
"We already have," Faramir murmured, moving closer.
Boromir shook his head, struggling through a post-orgasmic daze. "If someone found out - if Father found out -"
"No one will," Faramir said quietly. "We already hide so many secrets. We can suffer one more, I think, without discovery." He smiled then, wide and true. "Besides, isn’t it worth it?" With that, Faramir leaned over and set his lips on Boromir’s; Boromir struggled within himself, but knew from the onset that he was doomed to failure. As he sighed and opened his mouth, allowing Faramir’s tongue inside, he acknowledged the truth of Faramir’s words.
What’s one more, if it’s worth it?
Author: soleta
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Boromir/Faramir
AN: For y2jai, for the slashy_letters Valentine's Day ficathon. She asked for Boromir/Faramir, a reunion, and not too angsty; I am almost mentally incapable of not writing first-time stories, they're far too much fun.
It could have been so many things instead of indefinable. If he could have put it in a category, learned its meaning and its purpose, perhaps he could have dismissed it, this uncertain something that lingered on the air. No perfumes could dispel it, nor incense mask it; perhaps it was ingrained in his very nose, and he would always carry it with him.
His head met the wood of his chair with a soft thunk and when it came, his voice was quite unlike itself, small and somehow defeated. "Brother, what have you done to me?"
-
"The servants of the Eye will not show mercy, nor pity. They were bred to do one thing: kill." He paced up and down the line of raw trainees, restless, merciless himself, the recruits whispered with wide eyes. “Yet they are also cowards, but vicious, like cornered animals. Press a cornered animal too hard, and it will lash out with tooth and claw and nail.” He stopped and fixed the trainee in front of him with hard eyes. "What I am trying to tell you is that if you have a chance to kill an orc, do it, or it will do that or worse after you turn your back." He stepped up close to the young soldier. "Do you understand me?"
The young man nodded furiously, not sure if he was more frightened of his captain or the orcs at that precise moment.
"Good. Their armor is weak at the joins; the workmanship is shoddy, and they do not rely on it. You must get past their guard first..." He continued on, mainly oblivious to the whispered conversation behind him.
"I’ve never seen him like this."
"I have."
"How can we force him to stop? I tell you, even now, he could hold off any three of us, and none wish to try."
"There’s only one man among us who can force him to rest. If we can’t reason with him, we must tire him until he is forced to seek his bed. Perhaps when he arrives, Captain Faramir can -"
"What did you say?" Boromir swung around, the longbow in his hand nearly as tall as he was; an arrow was cocked on the string, and he held it carelessly; the two men didn’t like the look in his eyes and stepped back before realizing what they were doing.
"My lord." They both bowed, and the shorter continued. "Captain Faramir returns today. He sent an outrider ahead to report and give due notice."
"Notice." Boromir slowly approached the two veterans. "To my father."
The two men held their ground uneasily. "Yes, my lord. The Lord Denethor commanded the Citadel guard to bring Captain Faramir to him not two hours past."
Boromir took the arrow off the string and tossed both it and the longbow towards them. "Show them the basics, then let them retire for the midday meal. If I do not return, drill them in formation, then give them the rest of the day off."
"But, my Lord -"
"Their discipline -"
Boromir strode off without acknowledging their words, his cape floating behind him on the slight breeze, and the two soldiers sighed and turned to the trainees in unison. "Right. You’re ours now," and when they smiled, the trainees sighed. They knew that smile. It invariably meant their life was about to become much harder.
-
He found them, as he expected, in the antechamber to his father's bedroom. It had become so fixed in his brother's memory, the associations so pronounced, that his brother sometimes had nightmares. This was the scene of his father’s worst lectures, his rare outbursts, and if either of them was ever beaten, it was here that the deed was performed. Faramir would not step foot in this place without a direct order, and Boromir acknowledged within himself a rare reluctance to do the same.
He slowed as he approached the door and heard the raised voices. "But Father -"
"But nothing! This is the last time I trust you with anything of import." His father’s voice was rough with familiar contempt and Boromir found himself with his hand on the latch, furious with his father and ready to jump to his brother’s defense, but the door was opening under his hand and he flattened himself against the inside wall.
Faramir stepped out into the corridor, fatigue evident in the curve of his back, and caught sight of Boromir as he shut the door. His face lit up and he started to speak, but caught himself and inclined his head questioningly. Boromir nodded.
They made their way in silence to their favorite place to just sit and talk, to be alone in the middle of a crowded city. It was a footnote in the records, a room of the white stone found so commonly in the cliffs nearby, with a small bench under a withered tree, open to the sun.
"Why did you send to him and not to me?"
Faramir sighed. "You know why." He sat on the bench and brought his feet up under him, getting as comfortable as possible. "I wanted to get it over and done with." He smiled brightly up at his brother, still on his feet looming over him. "Besides, I wanted to surprise you."
"That you did," Boromir admitted. He gave up and unbuckled his sword, leaning it against the bench, and sat next to his brother. "I let the training class break early and gave them the afternoon off."
"You let them go early? My brother, the famous taskmaster?" Faramir laughed, bright and happy in the midday sun. "You’ll ruin your reputation if you keep that up."
"I’ll work them into the ground if any of them even thinks about it, and you know it," Boromir said, stretching like a cat. "And they know that any slacking off, and they’ll be cleaning out the stables on the first level for a week."
Faramir pretended to shiver in abject terror, then laughed again. Coming from his mercurial brother, the sound pleased Boromir no end, and he smiled in return. "Tired?" he asked, as Faramir stifled a yawn.
"We rode straight through the night," Faramir agreed and leaned against Boromir, their sides pressed together. "I love horses, but I hate sleeping while riding. I may as well have not slept at all."
"Rest, then," Boromir murmured, leaning back against the tree. Faramir said nothing, but sagged further against Boromir, leaning his head on Boromir’s shoulder. Boromir leaned his own head back against the tree and stared unseeing up through the bare branches, watching them toss and shiver against an imaginary wind...
-
He was dreaming such a pleasant dream. He felt soothed, taken care of, aroused and gently mastered, and as he was stroked to completion he struggled to swallow the name that rose to his lips.
"Faramir!"
"Yes, brother?"
Boromir jerked awake with a start, then swore as he realized his breeches were wet. Faramir was still on the bench beside him, watching him with an unreadable expression on his face.
They had slept together on trips and such often enough that Boromir usually felt little to no shame to waking in his present state, but something about Faramir’s face and the expression he wore unnerved him.
Faramir raised his hand to his face and licked it.
Boromir’s eyes widened involuntarily. "You didn’t.
And Faramir smiled.
"You did." Boromir groaned. "Do you realize what you’ve done, little brother?"
"What we both apparently wanted," Faramir shot back, a smile touching his lips.
"We can’t."
"We already have," Faramir murmured, moving closer.
Boromir shook his head, struggling through a post-orgasmic daze. "If someone found out - if Father found out -"
"No one will," Faramir said quietly. "We already hide so many secrets. We can suffer one more, I think, without discovery." He smiled then, wide and true. "Besides, isn’t it worth it?" With that, Faramir leaned over and set his lips on Boromir’s; Boromir struggled within himself, but knew from the onset that he was doomed to failure. As he sighed and opened his mouth, allowing Faramir’s tongue inside, he acknowledged the truth of Faramir’s words.
What’s one more, if it’s worth it?