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Words Don't Come Easily (PG-13) Print

Written by Dixon of Dock Leaf

31 January 2006 | 1796 words

Title: Words Don't Come Easily
Author: Dixon of Dockleaf
Email: dixonofdockleaf@hotmail.com
Pairing: Boromir/Faramir
Warnings: Brotherly ‘love’
Rating: 13 (ish)
Beta: The Palpitating Princess of Perversity, Half Elf Lost.
Feedback: You betcha!
Disclaimer: They’re only mine in my dreams. The rest of the time, Tolkein plays with them.
Author’s Notes: This is for HEL, Buttonbright and Eremir as a thank you for the madness that is Mandalay Island. It’s a blast, dudes… It’s also a paltry thank you to Brigantine for her swooningly ace birthday fic. Big kiss!


“Faramir!”

The early peace of a spring morning in Minas Tirith was abruptly shattered by the shout which echoed off the stonework, sending a flock of doves into the air with a panicky flap. It caused the young sentry on the wall nearby (who had been lost in a happy day-dream involving himself, his commanding officer and a bottle of lavender scented oil) to jump slightly and drop his shield.

“FARAMIR!!”

The sentry grinned to himself. Everyone in the city knew that shout. It was the shout of a lord, the shout of a leader, the shout of a warrior born. Most of all though, it was the shout of a man who, as Mithrandir was wont to say in his more pithy moods, couldn’t find his arse with an atlas in the morning unless copious amounts of coffee were involved. From the sound of it, this morning had thus far been deficient in the arts of the Noble Bean.

Picking up his shield and putting all thoughts of oil firmly out of his head, the sentry approached the tall figure now stamping into view up the stairs as though every single one had caused him personal insult, and saluted smartly.

The Abuser of Steps waved a hand in an irritated fashion. “It’s too early for all that,” it growled. “Have you seen my brother yet this morning?”

The sentry swallowed nervously. He’d been dreading this bit, but, stiffening his knees like the good soldier he was, he answered the question whilst managing to avoid looking Boromir in the eye.

“ Yes Sir, I have.”

“And…?” enquired Boromir, hanging onto his temper with a visible effort.

“He said I was to say this: ‘Don’t be late.’”

“That’s it? Nothing else? No slight indication as to where or why I’m supposed to be going when I’m not late?”

“He also said: ‘If he doesn’t know where to go, he shouldn’t bother.’” The sentry took a surreptitious step backwards, just in case.

Boromir, however, didn’t look as though he was about to blow. Instead, a range of expressions flitted across his face. Anger was there initially, but was chased off by surprise, which in turn shuffled off as guilt bedded down for what looked, to the interested sentry, like a long stay.

“Anything I can help with, Sir?” he asked, sympathetic to the suffering of a man who was obviously in trouble of a domestic kind.

“What? Oh. No. No, thank you. I got myself into this situation and I’ll have to get myself out. Just one more thing though,” he added as the sentry nodded understandingly and made as if to turn. “How did he look when he mentioned that last part?”

“Honestly?”

“Go on, I can handle it.”

“Well, you know that Look he can do?”

“Yes?” said Boromir, knowing the Look very well and whimpering to himself that he’d been the one responsible for Faramir producing it, especially on this day.

“He did it, Sir. Twice.”

“Twice? He’s never done it twice. Twice is not good. Balls. I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

“Yes Sir, I’m afraid you are.”

“Balls.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The sentry drew himself up and saluted Boromir again, this time in a fatalistic manner. Boromir just gave him what he hoped was a reassuring, devil-may-care, I’m-his-brother-what’s-the-worst-he-could-do type of smile and, turning on his heel, strode off nonchalantly in the direction of Faramir’s study. He managed to wait until he rounded the corner out of the sentry’s line of vision before breaking into a run, the headlong dash causing him to take the steps down from the wall three at a time and jump the last set entirely.


Ten feet away from the door to Faramir’s personal sanctuary, Boromir slowed down sufficiently to drag in a couple of much-needed breaths, shove his hair out of his eyes, straighten his tunic and run through a few practise opening sallies. Not that this would help, Faramir could effortlessly wipe the floor with him in any verbal sparring, but it might buy him some time.

“How could I have been this stupid?” he muttered, approaching the door with some trepidation and a tread that would have made a cat look clumsy. His efforts at silence were to no avail. His fist was still an inch away from the door when it slammed back on its hinges with a violence at odds with the serene expression currently residing on Faramir’s handsome features.

“Brother. How nice of you to spare me the time from your obviously hectic schedule. Won’t you please enter and grace me with your presence? If, of course, it won’t inconvenience you, or interfere with some other loftier responsibility or far more pleasurable activity? ”

From the moment the door opened, Boromir abandoned any hope of talking to his brother. Faramir may have looked calm and collected, but the waves of anger rolling out of the study told Boromir a very different story.

So, ever adaptable, he simply changed tactics and strode forward in a high-speed swagger, forcing Faramir to either back into the room or get run over. Once in there, Boromir stuck a foot out behind him and kicked the door shut, never taking his eyes off his brother. That would just have been stupid, Faramir had painfully good aim and Boromir had noted his brother’s granite inkwell was still within reach.

Advancing slowly across the room (which seemed to have grown uncomfortably large since the last time he was there), Boromir risked a smile. Nothing. He might as well have tried to beguile an Argonath. Faramir just folded his arms, raised a killer eyebrow and held his ground.

His brother stopped his advance and shrugged. “Well,” he thought. “So much for my legendary charm. I’ll have to try the less subtle approach instead.” On that thought and just as Faramir made his move towards the inkwell, Boromir picked up speed again and crossed the remaining floor space in two large strides. Using a move he’d picked up from Gimli, he dropped his shoulder slightly and tackled Faramir in one neat action, depositing his astonished brother neatly onto his own reading couch, flat on his back and comprehensively pinned.

“You and I are a pleasurable activity, brother mine,” Boromir said, grinning down into Faramir’s furious expression. “ In fact, some of the most pleasurable activities I can remember enjoying have occurred in this very room. Of course, if you’re so angry with me that you’ve decided to forgo that pleasure in order to punish me, that’s up to you. You thought I’d forgotten, didn’t you?”

“Thought? Thought you’d forgotten? I know you had!” panted Faramir, doing his best to heave the heavier man off of him and onto the floor. “You’d forget your own head if it wasn’t screwed on, so don’t give me that load of horse-puckey. I’ve got every right to be angry and you bloody well know it!”

Boromir decided not to let his brother move too much just yet. Aside from the fact that the struggles Faramir was producing were very arousing, he was enjoying winding his brother up too much to stop just yet. He continued by plastering a mournful expression on his face and playing the Hurt card.

“Are you trying to suggest that I wouldn’t think today was important? That I don’t have any feelings at all? That I’m insensitive? That wounds me, Faramir. It wounds me deeply.”

Faramir stopped struggling long enough to apparently give this some thought. “In no particular order? Yes, yes and, guess what? Yes!” He shot his brother a filthy look through his lashes and Boromir, seeing the genuine hurt in his brother’s eyes, sighed, braced himself and decided to come clean.

“You’re right. I had forgotten, and I’m truly sorry. You can call me all the names you want and you’d be quite right, but please believe that I am sorry.” Encouraged by the fact that Faramir was listening to him intently, he carried on. “You think that this isn’t important to me, but it is. It’s the most important thing I’ve ever had in my life, more important than the Fellowship, the Ring, everything.” He took a deep breath and continued.

“I’m no good at this, you know that things get in the way when I try to say what I’m feeling,”

“Things like your brain?” interjected Faramir sweetly.

“Yes, thank you, things like my brain. I’m doing my best here, so a little slack would be appreciated?”

“Sorry.”

“Thanks. Where was I?”

“Trying to think.”

“Right. Anyway, what I’m trying to tell you is this: I’m sorry. I do know what today is. It’s our anniversary. And it is, without question, the anniversary of the most perfect moment I have ever experienced. It’s the anniversary of the moment you said you loved me. And you know something, Little Brother?”

“What?” replied Faramir, now gazing up at his brother as though he’d never seen him before.

“I love you too. More than I thought I could ever love anything. More than..” Boromir sat back on his haunches between Faramir’s legs and waved his hands around vaguely as he tried to put his thoughts into romantic words. It didn’t help and made him look to Faramir as though he were swatting flies “..More than cold ale after a long ride, more than fresh bread, um, more than…anything.” Boromir looked helplessly at his brother. “A little assistance from the scholar in the family would not go amiss just now.”

Faramir sat up, reached forward and hauled his brother back down on top of him. “I think the words required at the moment,” he whispered against Boromir’s mouth, “are shut up and kiss me. I don’t need you to spout poetical nothings to prove you love me, although I do appreciate being loved more than a mug of beer and a sandwich. Tell me in your own way.”

Boromir, offering up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity happened to be listening, grinned wolfishly and obeyed.

Suddenly, Faramir pushed him away again.

“What?” Boromir asked in trepidation.

“If you forget next year, I’ll fire you from a siege catapult. Deal?”

”Deal. Now, shut up and kiss me, was it?”

“Mmm. Boromir?”

“Yes?”

“Happy Anniversary.”

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Result: Lots of giggles and a confused looking husband (who has more sense then to read this!) Very cool

— WWD    3 January 2008, 21:57    #

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Dixon of Dock Leaf

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