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Compilation of drabbles (R) Print

Written by Butterballer

14 November 2008 | 567 words

author: butterballer
rating: PG15
disclaimer: The Professor made me do it.
characters: Boromir, Faramir
warning: no character death, one PWP, hopefully some tears.

here i present a compilation of drabbles for your consumption. i hope you enjoy them as i had much pleasure in writing them. arranged in the order in which they should be read :)


The sudden infinity that met his eyes rocked his core, made his knees weak, chilled his heart with the vastness of possibility. Utterly terrified, rooted to the spot, he was buried knee-deep in the sand. His lips cracked in the wind.

Salt stung his bloody lip, he dove under the water, forced his eyes open and a wave took him. Water gushed into his mouth, tossed him underneath and whirled his senses. The salt was in his lungs.

But someone took him from the chill and raised him up, saying, only “Mother taught me to swim, I will teach you.”


The lines were thin and delicate, and it disappeared below his girded waist. Faramir was not unfamiliar with the design.

Boromir smiled gravely, “an unmarked map of our city, brother.”

Faramir saw, delineated, the small clump of trees they often had picnics under, their favorite inn with the finest ale south of Edoras and, upon the citadel, perfectly captured on his brother’s left shoulder, a miniature of the design of his window.

Smiling, Faramir said, “The city is built upon you.”

He traced a small scar that cut across the bold, slithering line that was the Anduin.

“Rests upon you.”


Yellow sun settled on a warm, round thigh beside him. Graphic flashes of a girl violently tugging at the hem of his breeches. She had taken his hand and slipped it between her thighs. He slipped back into his shirt, taking care to cover her bare breasts with the thin sheets.

“I have to charge you extra, Captain.” He turned to look at her.

Trying to shake off her stare, he started buckling his belt. “Did I tire you out, lady?”

Giggling, “Yes, captain, of course you did.”

Trying to understand, “Did I enjoy it?”

“I can say you did.”


It was all fear that twisted his heart.

His mind struggled to compose the words. He clutched at the foundations of the fear, grasped at the darkness in his mind, trying to echo the horror.

Formed, finally, he woke up in a fever.

In Minas Tirith, after defending Osgiliath, the dream again came. Sounds beat that echoed the rush of water swelling a stream, clouds overtaking the sky, the thunder of an impending storm and, most clearly, rocks tumbling into water.

He went to Boromir, shaken after understanding the vision that came.

“Brother, mother came to me in a dream.”


He arched his body, pleasure crawled down his spine as the stable hand’s calloused fingers penetrated him deeper still. He closed his eyes against the pillows and shot a fist down his throat to keep from crying out. The stable hand kissed the base of his spine and crawled on top of him, a familiar weight. His hands crept into his hair, turned his head to face the rough face, the slanted eyes, the thin lips. But he turned away from the kiss and groped down the body for his manhood, burrowing deeper in the pillows that harbored Boromir’s scent.

NB: Please do not distribute (by any means, including email) or repost this story (including translations) without the author's prior permission. [ more ]

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