Faramir Fiction Archive

Brothers (G)

Written by Monica

09 May 2005 | 4731 words

Pairing: Faramir and his "brothers".
Rated G for gratuitous fluff. No warnings other than gratuitous fluff.
Author Notes: This is just a series of snippets, jumping back and forth in time. The first part of each chapter takes place during Faramir's childhood. The second part takes place after the War of the Ring. Hopefully, it will be clear enough. There will be seven chapters in all.

Thank you to KC for beta help, and to LadyHawksshadow and Minx for kind encouragement and advice.

Dwarvish words were found at: http://www.geocities.com/jonathanrisser/website/Non_Elvish/Dwarvish.htm

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Chapter 1: Walking

Boromir held out his hands encouragingly, his voice excited. "Come on Fara, you can do it!" The not quite six-year-old beamed in pride as the 10-month-old baby a few feet away from him gurgled. Faramir took an uncertain step, still not quite sure how this walking thing worked. Rather to his surprise, his foot supported his tiny body, and he tried another step.

"Yeah!" Boromir cheered as he swept up his baby brother in his arms. "Not even a year old and walking," he bragged to their nurse. "He will be a strong warrior." Faramir echoed his big brother with a cheer of his own, laughing delightedly. He loved nothing better than his brother and determinedly grasped a handful of hair. Boromir never fussed when he grabbed his hair, and Faramir popped the thumb of his free hand into his mouth.

Determined to let everyone know how brilliant his little brother was, Boromir headed inside and found his parents having tea in his mother's study. Mother was lying on a couch, looking better than she had been for a while and Boromir didn't remember to stay quite as he burst into the room.

"Mama, Papa, Faramir's walking!" he proudly exclaimed. His parents looked up and Mother smiled a little.

"He is already?" she asked, her soft voice sounding tired but still very interested. Boromir nodded in confirmation.

"Watch," he ordered. He sat Faramir on his feet in the middle of the room, balancing the child until he was steady. Then he backed away a few steps and held out his hands. "Come here, Fara. Show them how you can walk."

Faramir looked a bit nervously at the adults, not certain. Then he looked back at his brother and determinedly took a step toward him. Another two steps followed and he was rewarded with being picked back up.

"See?" Boromir cheered.

"That is very good," Denethor agreed, pleased at the smile on his wife's face. Boromir came over and both boys received a kiss from their mother and a pat on the head from their father. "Run along now, Boromir, your mother should rest some more."

Boromir smiled and waved goodbye as he ran out the door, his baby brother secure in his arms. Faramir waved his hands, imitating his brother as they left.

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time change

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"Come on, Faramir, one more step."

"This is stupid," the Steward growled. Aragorn smiled at the tone, intrigued how Faramir could sound nasty and yet respectful to the king at the same time. "I'm telling you, Sire, that I am perfectly fine." There just a hint of a sneer in the tone and Aragorn had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

"Right," Aragorn said lightly, "and to ensure that; you are to remain off your foot for the remainder of today and all tomorrow."

Faramir sighed as he leaned against the king. "It does not hurt that bad," he said hopefully. "It is simply a twisted ankle."

"Yes, and it will heal only if you stop trying to walk on it." Aragorn guided his steward to a couch. "I do not want to see you walking on that foot for two more days. Use the crutches if you must move about." The king handed the aforementioned crutches to his patient. "Can't believe you were walking," Aragorn muttered under his breath as he left Faramir's room. "Told him to stay still; did he listen? No. Never listens to me," he continued talking to himself as he moved down the corridor.

In his bedroom, Faramir sighed and eyed the crutches with distaste. He had never had a foot or leg injury severe enough to keep him off his feet, and Faramir was finding that he hated the blasted crutches with a passion. And it was just like Aragorn to appear in the doorway as he was attempting an escape from his room. The king seemed bent on treating his steward like a small child, and it made Faramir smile a bit sadly; it was almost like having Boromir back. Visions of fire kindling filling his head as he glared one more time at the crutches, he reached for a book and settled down for the afternoon.

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