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Brother's Lament (NC-17) Print

Written by Alex Cat

19 May 2012 | 1611 words

Brother’s Lament
Posted: August 2002
Author: Alex
Fandom: Tolkien
Genre: FCS
Characters: Boromir/Faramir
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: these are not my characters
Summary: i decided to post this one over here from the files. Its sweet and sad and about brothers… dave and sean were just too yummy to resist!

Brother’s Lament

Faramir couldn’t breathe. He sat with the halves of the Horn of Gondor in his lap. He saw the vision, and he knew. His brother was dead. Boromir’s spirit told him goodbye. How could he go on? His heart surely would stop beating. Boromir was gone? How was it that the sun rose this day? How was it that the River still flowed? His mind couldn’t make it real. In his mind, oh god, in his mind…

Boromir was never home much when Faramir was young. He had grown up worshipping his brother from afar. Boromir was always off soldiering. Faramir had actually known the farmers in the outlying villages better than he had known his own brother. Not long ago, that all changed.

Boromir had come home. Denethor had `killed the fatted calf’ to welcome his eldest son home. Faramir was glad, but he hated it when his older brother came home. He hated being invisible, or more invisible than he already was to his father. He hated his beautiful warrior brother as much as he loved him.

He had been in the stables when Boromir had ridden in. He heard the horses and shouts as Boromir and his men entered the gates of the city. Well, at least Boromir could deal with Denethor for a bit instead of him having to try to please the old man.

“Little brother!” Boromir had jumped down from his horse and enveloped the younger man in a huge hug. He always smelled of pipeweed and horses, and those smells were always a comfort to Faramir. Faramir smiled at his brother. It was hard not to love him.

“I’m glad you’re home. Father has been beside himself waiting for you to return.” Their father was a difficult man in the best of times, and in the last few years, he had become more so. Though neither brother would say, both knew of the Palantir that he kept in his chambers, and both suspected him of using it, and not for any good purposes. Their home was so close to Mordor that it always had to be watched, but Denethor seemed to give way more and more to paranoia as time went on.

Faramir was not surprised at the look of irritation that crossed Boromir’s face for a second and was gone. He turned his horse over to the stable boy, and the two of them went to the castle. Faramir followed his older brother to his chambers. Boromir began to remove his layers of clothing as soon as he was inside the door. Faramir was tall and strong, but not as well muscled as his brother. He had no real idea how much the two of them looked alike.

Boromir looked up from removing his boots and smiled at Faramir. “So how long do I have until the banquet?”

“Two hours at the most.” Faramir grinned and took his leave to get ready for the banquet too. “I’ll see you then.”

The banquet hall was bright and smelled wonderful as the brothers entered. Denethor awaited them, impatiently. But then their father was always impatient. Both men were used to it. The food was plentiful and delicious, especially to Boromir, Faramir noted with a smile. His brother ate like he hadn’t had food in weeks. Faramir ate his share too, if for no other reason, than to keep up with Boromir. Denethor ate little, indeed, he seemed to be waiting for the meal to be done.

Finally, it was done and pipes were filled for smoking. Father turned to son. “Boromir, my son, I know you have just arrived back in your fair home, but I must ask you to journey out once again. It seems Lord Elrond the Halfelven is to hold a council in Rivendell in two weeks time, and I would have you go. We must know what the elves are about. One can never trust them, so I shall send you to find out what is happening. I’m sure they too know of the stirrings in Mordor.”

Boromir turned to him, “Why not send your diplomats? They are trained in council meetings. I am just a soldier.”

“I can trust no one but my own flesh and blood to tell me what is discussed by the elves.” His father quoted the riddle: “`Seek for the sword that was Broken. In Imladris it dwells.’ You must find out where Isildur’s bane is.”

“But why must I do this, father?”

“Do you now question my wisdom? I have been the Steward of Gondor for many years. I will not tolerate insubordination from my own son.”

Both brothers sighed. “No, father, I was merely asking a question.” Boromir answered resignedly. “I will leave at first light for Rivendell.”

As soon as they could leave, both brothers excused themselves. They walked around the city and talked. The avoided talk of their father, but talked instead of places Boromir had been and what had happened here at home while he was away. They talked of what they would do together when they both lived within the same walls. The hour grew late, and Boromir knew he had to leave again on the morrow. He was reluctant to let Faramir go when they came back to his chambers.

“Tarry here with me awhile, little brother. I’ll have some wine brought.”

“You need to rest. You ride again tomorrow.”

“I can sleep on horseback,” Boromir laughed. “There shouldn’t be too much danger in the direction of Rivendell. Who would bother the elves? There’s not much else in that direction.”

Faramir laughed and followed him into his chambers. They sat and drank wine and chattered for awhile until Faramir began to sag a bit.

“You can stay in here if you like.”

Faramir smiled, a little drunk and a lot tired. He sat on the edge of the bed.

“Let’s get some of these clothes off of you though.”

Faramir stood up drowsily. But he was wide awake when he noticed green eyes so like his own gazing down at him. He was wide awake when his brother’s lips touched his so gently that it was almost dreamlike. He said “no, we can’t do this,” and Boromir whispered, “I know,” but he didn’t stop kissing him. He tried to say no again when Boromir’s tongue touched his lips, but instead he opened his mouth and let his brother’s hot tongue slide inside. He sucked it gently, marveling at how right it felt. He meant to say no when he felt Boromir removing his layers of clothing until his chest was bare, but the air felt so good, and the kisses felt even better. He stopped trying to protest when he felt hands on the fastenings of his leggings. He closed his eyes and moaned as cool air and then a hot, wet tongue touched his aching shaft.

He opened his eyes, and the eyes he looked into looked were so much like his own that he was startled. He had thought he’d see lust there. But he saw more. He saw love and longing as Boromir rose and stripped his own clothing off. Faramir hardly dared to breathe, afraid now that if he did, his brother would stop. He held his breath as Boromir took something from his pack and stepped between his legs, lifting them to his shoulders, kissing ticklish ankles and running his tongue along a hard calf muscle until Faramir moaned from need and pleasure. He pulled Faramir out to the edge of the soft mattress.

Tears stung Faramir’s eyes when slick fingers entered him. He must have made a sound, because Boromir whispered, “It’ll be all right, love.” He took his younger brother’s cock in his other hand and stroked it gently, until he finally replaced the fingers with his own hard cock. Faramir’s eyes widened as Boromir entered him, but he didn’t cry out. The pain soon gave way to pleasure as Boromir entered him fully. He slid his legs down and around Boromir, who leaned down to kiss him. Faramir cried when his brother said, “I love you,” into his mouth.

Then words were lost as they strained against each other and into each other until the tension and anticipation was more than they could either one could bear. With whispered love words and tears, Boromir filled Faramir with his warm semen, and Faramir cried Boromir’s name again and again as he came between them, his own semen making their bodies slippery as they held on tight to each other.

There were no words that could convey what either of them felt, so they lay curled together, quiet and thoughtful, for the rest of the night. Somewhere near dawn, they slept and when Faramir awoke, his brother had already left for Rivendell. On the dresser lay his necklace, a golden pendant with the Shield of the Stewards on Gondor engraved upon it. Faramir slipped the chain about his neck.

Tears clouded his vision as Faramir slid his hand inside his shirt to touch the pendant. He would honor his brother and fulfill his duties as the only surviving son of the Steward of Gondor. With tears in his eyes, he dug his heels into his mount and off he rode. The darkness was closing in fast.

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About the Author

Alex Cat

For more of Alex Cat’s work, visit Alex’s Story Book.