Faramir Fiction Archive

After the War (NC-17)

Written by Petrel

01 August 2005 | 6614 words | Work in Progress

Pairings: Haldir/Faramir; Haldir/Boromir; Boromir/Faramir; Boromir/Faramir/Haldir, het mentioned but not described!
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: implied incestuous thoughts part 1, consensual incest pt 2, probable kink/BDSM in later parts
Slightly AU - Boromir is alive - and yes at some point I may write a scene which explains what happened but for now just assume Aragorn and Legolas got there in time.

Summery: Both Boromir and Haldir survive the war of the ring and return to minis tirith with Aragorn. Faramir and Haldir become friends and then more than friends. Peace is on the land and everyone is happy and enjoying their loved ones– except Boromir.

“I will draw some of the great tales in fullness……” I don’t own these characters or the story or middle earth. I merely use them as inspiration for my own musings, I do not do this for profit.

Work In Progress

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Chapter 1

Boromir sat on the sunny side of the great courtyard, in the centre acrobats displayed their skills as the group of elven dancers and musicians they had just watched filed out to relax, there were already several young maidens and men gathered around the exit waiting got show their ‘admiration’ for those graceful movements in a more personal way.
Boromir pulled a face and looked away, his eyes fell on his king sat with the queen a few rows away and a smile flitted across his face. Much as Boromir chaffed under the requirements of protocol that said both Gondor’s captain and its steward should be present for this games he was pleased to see Aragorn relaxed and enjoying the spectacle. Elessar he reminded himself he really must get used to the fact that the scruffy ranger he had travelled with, fought with and loved very dearly was now King Elessar.

His feeling of well being disappeared however when his eyes fell on Gondor’s steward, his little brother, sat close to the king. He was sitting even closer to a fair haired elf, and as Boromir watched the elf slid one long arm gracefully around Faramir shoulder ostensibly to direct his attention to the acrobats, but the arm stayed put and Boromir sucked in a breath as he saw red gold curls winding round the slender fingers. His stomach twisted in the confused welter of emotions he felt when looking at his little brother these days. Everything had changed in the past six months, it was September, a beautiful golden month. The king and queen had been wed for 10 weeks. This was the first celebration after their wedding, to give thanks for the harvest which had been more plentiful than any had right to expect after the war thanks to the unstinting efforts of those farmers who had been sent back to their lands as soon as was possible. Aye and thanks also to Faramir who once recovered form his wound had proved himself to be a better steward by far than his father or indeed Boromir himself would have made.
Boromir was glad he had not been asked to take on the role of steward, he was far happier as Gondor captain. When he saw the harvest, the school being set up, the homes rebuilt he praised and encouraged. He could send warriors to protect the outlying fields and lend their strength to the endeavour but he could not even begin to comprehend how one would go about organising this effort. That was what Faramir was good at, he had spent long hours closeted with Aragorn and then with the lord Elrond and his cool advisor Erestor in the first month or tow. After that he had emerged and calmly taken up the job of ensuring the city ran smoothly. Leaving Aragorn free to concentrate on being king, wooing his people.

The steward had proved popular and in the months that had followed his father's death he had seemed freer and younger than ever before. There had been those who had hoped for a second wedding but the brief affair with Éowyn had faded into a sweet friendship, they had both taken healing from that and Boromir knew although many others didn’t that it was possible there would be an heir as well. Éowyn had however refused a political marriage of expediency. She still cared for Faramir but she had stated quite calmly that she had no intention of marrying a man who did not love her. Faramir had protested but Boromir and Éomer had intervened, both knowing that there would be none of the shame that might accompany a child born out of wedlock in Gondor for Éowyn. The rohirim were an ultimately practical people when it came to matters of childbirth and marriage. A child of Éowyn sired by Faramir had worthy bloodlines and given that Éomer was in no hurry to wed it provided a default heir until the young kin fathered his own children.
Boromir had spent much of those first few months regrouping his soldiers and overseeing patrols to clear the last remaining remnants of the enemy out of Gondor and ithlien. HE had been accompanied in this by Legolas and a band of Mirkwood and Lórien archers who were now settling the woods of ithlien, making them once more a place of beauty and joy.

It had been early June when he had returned, and he had been amazed and pleased at the changes in his brother. Freed from the weight of suspicion and bitterness with which Denethor had always viewed him, serving a king he loved Faramir had blossomed. For Boromir he summed up the changes in Gondor itself. No longer a warlike city Minis Tirith had begun to blossom also with gardens, music and laughter, and it was fitting that his brothers joyous face and sweet voice be the one to oversee this.

But there had been a darker emotion also in Boromir’s heart, his little brother was no longer that. HE was a man in his own right secure in his place and the affection of others. He no longer needed to turn to his brother for comfort and love, no longer did he rely on Boromir standing between him and their fathers rages. He did not come wide eyed and trembling to Boromir’s rooms, face still wet with tears form an encounter with Denethor or one of the dreams that plagued him. He was too busy, too happy for any of that. His rooms weren’t the cold distant tower rooms Denethor had said were all he needed, they were airy sun filled chambers next to the kings. And although Boromir’s own chamber were on the same hall he saw less of Faramir now than when they were consigned to opposite end of the citadel.
HE was glad but he also found that he missed his brother fiercely, and there was a part of him, a very small and ignoble part that envied his brothers new found assurance.

Now, his eyes drawn unwillingly to the two sat so close together he found another emotion knowing at his heart. he believed it was anger at the show of emotion and affection, believed it was a condemnation of the fact that his brother was sat with another man not a maiden, disapproval that Faramir had chosen his friends and companions form amongst the elves as well the men. He did not name the emotion or even dare look at too closely, but it clouded his mind and set him apart from the others and their simple enjoyment of the games.

Haldir grew bored with the human acrobats in front of him but with a soft sigh he ignored that feeling and the slight discomfort of the stone tiers of seating. The soft hair curling round his fingers, the warmth of Faramir’s body next to his and the sparkling green eyes which turned to him every now and again, easily made up for the rest.

He had grown very fond of the steward in the months he had spent here. Their friendship had begun innocently enough, Faramir was fascinated by the differences between the three races of elves, the sindar, the sylvan and the Noldor. Haldir teased him sometimes now that he had only pursued Haldir because he wanted to add the third to his collection after both Legolas and Erestor had become his fast friends.

---

They had been sitting in Faramir’s rooms, drinking wine and relaxing after a meal. Legolas had been with them but had made his excuses an hour or so past saying he had promised to rise early and ride out with Aragorn on the morn. Haldir had stayed, it was growing late but he was relaxed in the young mans company and it would not be the first time they had watched the dawn come in while talking and drinking wine.

The sense of relaxation Haldir felt in Faramir’s company was welcome, with him he could drop the mask of cold aloofness that he still held on most public occasions. They laughed and talked like old friends. And it was this trust bolstered by the wine that had led to the teasing remarks about Faramir’s collection of elves and wondering if he would bother talking to them if he could only get it all written down for him instead.

A flicker of Faramir’s old uncertainty had surfaced at the playful accusation and he had stammered and blushed guiltily, protesting that he truly enjoyed Haldir’s company, and while he learnt much from him it was not merely a scholars curiosity. The words had died on his lips however when he looked up to see Haldir regarding him with a smirk.

“you….” Farmers face split in a wide grin. “You teased me!” he said half accusing and half incredulous.

Haldir lounged back in his chair, “elves my dear friend do not ‘tease’ we are paragons of all that is graceful, serene and wise.”

Faramir snorted inelegantly, “tell that to the rohirim that have had half your company spending nights in their quarters.”

Haldir raised a elegant arced eyebrow, “it is hardly the fault of elves if the uncivilised hordes of men find their beauty and elegance to be inspiring to their virtue and courage.”

At that Faramir coughed up half his drink, “virtue??? Haldir have you ever walked past there at night – I can assure you the noises emanating from some of those rooms have about as much to do with virtue as ……”

“Oh? And how would you be so sure? perhaps they are merely …...exchanging tales of customs? After all an innocent like you could hardly be expected to recognise and distinguish the sounds so accurately” Haldir said with an arrogant smirk.

“Innocent?” Faramir’s voice was half choked from some emotion.

“But of course my dear mortal, after all you have only had what? Barely two score years? We elves have centuries, ages to become truly experienced!” Haldir flung his hand out wide to illustrate his point enjoying the flush of amused outrage on Faramir’s face. “You are a child” he declaimed, “a mere child learning at the feet of masters….”

His voice was abruptly cut off when with a sudden movement Faramir had slid out of his chair and was kneeling in front of him.

“I’ll show you who’s the innocent one” he half growled before leaning forward and capturing the surprised elf’s lips in a kiss.

Haldir’s first thought was to thank the valar for the effects of wine on human sensibilities. He second was wonder at just how soft Faramir’s lips were. The kiss was clumsy at first, Faramir attacked his mouth with determination but his hands fluttered uncertainly on Haldir’s tunic. The elf lent into the kiss, letting Faramir control the pace. Haldir melted against the man and felt rather than heard Faramir’s gasp as he found himself drawn to explore the warm, sweetness of Haldir’s lips. Then Haldir parted his lips under the assault and the kiss suddenly was all passion, Faramir’s uncertainty passed and his hands drew Haldir closer kissing him with the ardour and experience of a man.

It was some minutes later when they drew apart panting. Faramir’s eyes were very wide as he looked at Haldir and the flush on his face had more to do with arousal than wine.

“I suddenly find myself to be alarmingly sober” he said in a shaky voice.

Haldir reached out and stroked his cheek gently, “good” he said softly, “because I would not have you do this in a drunken moment and regret it the next day. Our friendship is too precious to me for that.” He kept his voice level and his eyes calm, not giving away how his body had hardened the moment Faramir’s lips had touched his, how he wanted to draw him close and kiss him back properly.

Faramir swallowed and for a moment Haldir was sure he was going to make some light comment about the effects of wine and withdraw, he could see the words hovering on the mans lips. But when he spoke it was a different question, one that perhaps even Faramir himself did not mean to ask. “But would you have me do it sober?”

For a long moment Haldir couldn’t find the words to reply, Faramir looked away the flush becoming a painful blush as he thought that he had said too much.

But then firm hands took his head and drew him back towards the elf, hazel eyes looked steadily into green. Haldir did not reply but dipped his head and slowly, lingeringly tasted the sweetness of Faramir’s mouth again. This time it was the elf who controlled the kiss, teasing and nibbling on the full lips until Faramir was making soft moaning sounds in his throat and unconsciously pressing closer. “Yes” he whispered when he finally lifted his head.

---

A burst of cheering from the crowd brought Haldir back into the present with a disconcerting jolt. Faramir turned to look at him with an amused expression on his face.

“You are supposed to clap and smile” he stage whispered, “not look as though you were just poleaxed.”

Haldir tightened his fingers on the back of Faramir’s neck for a moment and Faramir’s eyes widened. Then narrowed as he took in Haldir’s somewhat tense figure. “And just what were you thinking of my dear elf.” He murmured under cover of the crowds noise.

Haldir leaned in to his ear and said softly, “the first time I had you” he sat back and admired the flush that slowly spread from Faramir’s neck to his brow. It amazed him that he could still draw those blushes from the steward, who had in fact lived up to his promise proving to be a passionate and daring lover.

Faramir turned his face back to the bowing acrobats resolutely, “such things are not appropriate subjects for discussion here” he said primly.

“of course steward” Haldir said smoothly withdrawing his hand and sitting up straight. “Du rwalaer-nin” (tonight my lusty one)

Faramir swallowed and turned with a curse hovering on his lips, fortunately for both their public persona’s Aragorn chose that moment to stand up and proclaim his thanks to the dancers and acrobats so far. He then began the speech that heralded the start of the warriors parade and show.

Faramir shot Haldir an evil look but the elf was now a perfect picture of haughty disinterest and he sighed and settled back into his seat, needing to adjust his formal robes somewhat for comfort, promising himself to make sure Haldir was amply repaid for his torture later on.

 

Later……

“your brother was watching us today” Haldir’s voice was lazy and slow.

“mmmph?” Faramir query was somewhat muffled and Haldir laughed and tugged his face up out of the pillow where he had fallen in exhaustion.

“Come, you can not be ‘that’ tired!”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one who ended up being pounded into the mattress ‘twice!’” Faramir groaned rolling over onto his back and looking up at Haldir. He raised a hand and traced the lines of Haldir’s face lit now only by moonlight.

Haldir captured the questing hand and brought it to his lips with a soft smile, “How can I help myself when you look so lovely like this?” he questioned. His eyes ran over the mans naked body, the fair golden skin looked paler in the moonlight, the few freckles bleached out and the coppery curls looking darker in contrast.

Faramir leant up on one elbow and kissed Haldir with gentle passion, “You are so beautiful” he breathed softly as he fell back, drawing the elf down with him. They lay there for some time curled up in each others arms, finally Faramir stirred and said sleepily, “what did you say before? About Boromir?”

Haldir nuzzled the stewards shoulder, “I said he was watching us”

Faramir shot upright, “you think he knows?”

Haldir raised his eyebrows and shrugged, not understanding why Faramir would be so disturbed. “While he is not as bright as you your brother is far from being an idiot when he actually turns his mind away from matters of war. Of course he knows, does not half the citadel and the other half are merely wilfully blind.”

“Damn” Faramir’s voice was muffled once more as he dropped his head into his hands.

Haldir sat up and put his arms around him, drawing him back to sit against the archers strong chest. “What is it love? Are you….. would you prefer that our relationship was not so widely known.”

“No, its just…” Faramir caught the note in Haldir’s voice and turned with a reassuring smile. “No” he said more firmly, “I am not ashamed to be your lover. It is merely that I had hoped to broach this matter with my brother myself.” He rested his head on Haldir’s shoulder, “I have been a coward, I was so glad to have him back this month that I could not bear to tell him for fear that he might disapprove.”

“You are no coward Faramir, not ever” Haldir vowed as he kissed the soft hair. “But perhaps you should speak to him? He must know, his eyes told me that and while I doubt that a brother who loves you as dearly as he does would ever disprove of you it would be better for him to have it confirmed from you not to hear rumours from the guards.”

Faramir sighed and nodded, “I will speak to him. But not now” he added leaning back so he could see Haldir, “now I want you to hold me while I sleep, I want to wake up in your arms, I want…”

The last sentence was cut off as Haldir kissed him again. The moonlight played over both fair bodies as their limbs tangled and soft sounds of pleasure filled the room, and eventually Faramir got what he’d asked for.

Chapter 2

Faramir pushed his hair back out of his eyes and smiled. His opponent was watching him warily a few feet away.

“You are skilled with a blade,” the soft voice said.

“A ranger must carry both blade and bow” Faramir replied, circling round trying to draw the other fighters’ attention.

Haldir grimaced and shifted his grip, elves also had to carry blades as well as bow but he was unused to the single straight sword the Edain used. He changed his stance forcing himself to forget the unfamiliar weight and heft, to remember the movements of feet and body. He feinted to one side then stepped back, blades engaging as Faramir lunged forward.

They danced like that, Haldir’s superior strength and grace balanced by his unfamiliarity with this form of swordplay. Blades met and slid against each other with the faint sound of steel, like a lovers kiss that draws blood with its sharp edged promises.

From the shadows Boromir watched, they looked achingly beautiful, so golden and young. Faramir’s red-gold hair pulled back with a light tie, Haldir’s mithril fair hair in contrast still hanging loose held only with two warrior braids. Boromir sucked in a breath as they circled round again and he realised that Haldir was dressed similarly to the human in a linen shirt and close fitting breeches. The light clothing left very little to the imagination, and it made an obvious lie of the belief that all elves were like slender maids or half-grown lads. Haldir’s shoulders were near as broad as Faramir’s, the elf was a touch taller but they were much of a size otherwise. Faramir still too thin to his brothers eyes from the long illness, but there was lean muscle under the golden skin and his eyes glowed with health and happiness now.

Boromir felt that stab of envy and anger again, //what right did this arrogant elf have to come in and……// his thoughts trailed off there, //and make your brother happy?// a little voice asked sarcastically. He shook his head angrily and turned away slightly, but then a soft breathless laugh drew his attention unwillingly back to the scene before him.

Haldir had the advantage and was slowly pressing Faramir back. The elf’s fair face was alive with the joy of the sparring match, his body moving so gracefully that you could almost forget how deadly the dance could be.

Faramir gave ground again, falling back across the room. Boromir frowned. Faramir was a better fencer than this, he had taught him himself. He was defending only not attacking, not taking the match seriously. There was a flurry of blades and then both broke off circling around each other so the hidden watcher caught glimpses first of his brothers flushed and smiling face and then of the fair features of the elf.

Boromir knew he should leave, the two thought they were alone, they had no doubt chosen this smaller practise room instead of the main fencing galleries deliberately so they might have this time in private……..but he could not. The sheer eroticism of the scene, the light sheen of sweat on both faces, the flashes of skin tantalisingly revealed by the loose lacings of their shirts all combined to root him to the spot. His breath seemed to echo the breathing of the fighters, coming quicker and harsher as they moved. Long lean legs circling round, parting and crossing paths so smoothly until it seemed that they were dancing not fighting.

They were on the far side of the room now, and still Haldir pressed forward, Faramir seemed to make little effort to defend, only stepping back each time, yielding the ground to his opponent almost eagerly. Faramir’s legs took another step back, and another and then his slim hips were pressed against the cabinet of swords along one side of the wall.

//strike// Boromir urged him silently, //now while he is distracted, as he steps forward to take your blade// But the blue steel lowered, fell to Faramir’s side. He leant further back, stretching his body out, Boromir could see his chest heaving, his eyes glinting up at his opponent as he deliberately let the blade clatter to the floor.

His brother yielding, head thrown back in submission, his opponent leaning forward past the sharp steel at his throat. Boromir’s body ached, he felt the sharp tang of sweat and blood in the air, the feeling of exultation at being victor in the fight against a worthy opponent.

The red gold head tipped back and the sharp blade swept up and sheared off a lock of hair.

Pressed back hard against the unforgiving wood, unarmed, his hair dishevelled, Faramir should have looked defeated. He looked elated. Boromir’s breath caught in his throat painfully, Haldir was lowering the blade, leaning forward.

“Your brother watches us” he whispered his breath fanning Faramir’s cheek.

Faramir’s eyes were bright as he looked up, “I know”

Their eyes met, Haldir searched and found the answer he was looking for in Faramir’s sparkling blue gaze. His free hand came to rest on Faramir’s hip and he turned them slightly so their silent watcher would see the soft bulge in the tight breeches. Faramir’s legs parted, and one slim elven leg shifted and slid between them.

Boromir leant back against the wall gasping, his knees weak. His hand strayed to his groin, his legs parted in unconscious imitation of his brother stance, and as Haldir’s breath ghosted over one brother’s skin the other felt its light touch.

Haldir’s hand drifted up, catching Faramir’s chin and tilting his head back. For a long moment the scene was frozen like that, and it lingered longer behind Boromir’s tightly closed eyes as he frantically tried to calm his aching body, his hands clenched at his side. He did not dare watch them kiss, as he was sure they would, could not bear to feel the hard arrogant mouth of the elf descending onto his brother’s soft lips.

Their eyes met in perfect understanding, and Haldir smiled. He dropped his hand and stepped back a fraction so their bodies were no longer touching, just separated by the thinnest of slivers of air. “Perhaps you would care to take your brother’s place Boromir?” He said clearly but softly.

The voice slid into Boromir’s fuddled mind and his eyes snapped open. Emotion choked the words in his throat, he longed to deny it, to call out and challenge the elf, to wipe the arrogant smile from his face……………… to run away and hide.

Then the elf stepped back and the two figures turned with shaming accuracy to where he stood in the shadows. Haldir held his sword lightly, looking perfectly cool and unreachable as he made a slight bow in Boromir’s direction and said calmly. “My Lord Steward has a prior appointment, perhaps you Captain would do me the honour of continuing the match?”

His cheeks burning Boromir managed to straighten his clothing and step out, unwilling to trust his voice he nodded curtly to the pair.

Faramir turned, picked up his sword and bowed to Haldir, “my thanks Haldir for the match, I am sure my brother will be happy to spar with you.” His voice too was unbelievably level and calm. At that moment Boromir came close to hating his beloved brother. Faramir smiled sunnily at them both and strode out of the room picking up his discarded tunic as he went.

“Come Boromir, I have learnt great respect for your skill with the arts of war, I look forward to testing those skills for myself” Haldir spoke over his shoulder as he moved to the side picking up a water canteen and drinking from it. Turning he held it out to Boromir, “you look a little flushed Boromir, would you drink?”

Boromir suppressed the growl in his throat and turned away, striding over to the rack of swords and selecting one. Moving swiftly he pulled off his heavy tunic and turned to face Haldir, the heavier broadsword held in both hands. Stormy green eyes met calm grey and Boromir bowed mockingly

“Shall we?” he would wipe out the memory of the shaming betrayal of his body with steel.

This match was nothing like the graceful dance that had played out only moments earlier. Boromir was more a match for Haldir’s strength although he lacked some of his lighter brothers grace. He did not try to play the elegant game of courtly fencing however, he stood feet firmly planted, his strong arms wielding the heavier blade, making his own beauty out of the play of muscle under skin, the controlled strength and the promise of violence.

It was a beauty Haldir appreciated even as he found himself fighting harder and faster in order to keep the match evenly balanced. They had been sparring for some minutes and Boromir showed no signs of loosing the scowl that darkened his features and tightened his shoulders. //Time to see what will get under his skin.// the elf thought with a hidden smile.

“Your brother fights well, he has a certain …. grace that is often lacking in mortal men”

His only response was a slight widening of the eyes and a redoubled ferocity of attack from Boromir.

Unflustered Haldir met the attack and for a brief moment he showed his true strength, meeting Boromir blade for blade. Green eyes widened and then narrowed but before Boromir could make it a match of brute force Haldir spun to one side and there was nothing there for Boromir to fight against.

Boromir swore under his breath cursing the elusiveness of elves. He was further disconcerted when the light mocking voice spoke from behind him. “If I had known you were so eager to have me within your grasp Boromir of Gondor perhaps we would have done this sooner”

Boromir actually growled at that, he spun around, more lightly than a casual observer would have thought given his size. The elf was standing there with a mocking smile on his face but a challenging gleam in his eye, asking a question Boromir wasn’t prepared to answer. When their blades met again there was no holding back. The room was filled with a frighteningly fast whirl of steel and fury, but slowly, ever so slowly Boromir was giving ground. Haldir was faster, more agile and just as strong, and he’d lost his unease with the unfamiliar blade.

Their blades met again and slid down, locking at the hilt, full body lock. For the long time neither moved, but inch-by-inch Boromir found himself being pushed back, the blades lowered, still locked between their bodies.

Then Boromir’s eyes widened as he felt the wood pressed into his back. For a moment he couldn’t move or react seeing his brother and Haldir has they had been half an hour earlier. That moment was all Haldir needed and a split second later Boromir found himself in exactly that position, his blade spinning away across the floor, leaning back to avoid the sharp steel at his throat.

Haldir stood there, breathing was hardly changed, his pale skin untouched by the hectic flush, which stained the humans cheeks.

“Is it your custom to spy on the private moments of others?” Haldir asked in a silky voice.

“How did you know?” Boromir asked raggedly.

A single arced eyebrow rose even higher, “it was your brother who sensed you Boromir, he knew when you arrived.” The cold mouth twitched, “elves may have superior senses but even I can’t distinguish the smell of one sweating and aroused Gondorian brother from another so easily.”

Boromir opened his mouth but no words came out, he flushed even more painfully but was unable to deny the elf’s words. He was reluctantly grateful for the fact that Haldir chose not to underline his point, as he could have so easily done with a single glance down at Boromir’s straining breeches.

“Although I would remark that your brother is far more ….open than you when it comes to declaring his feelings.”

Boromir reacted angrily to that, ignoring the insinuation that he also desired Haldir he focused on what he perceived as a slight to his brother. “Faramir is no mere toy for you elf, he deserves more than to be a plaything. Elves may whore themselves to any who ask but my brother is a man, and he is Steward of Gondor, I warn you, do not trifle with him or treat him with contempt.”

There was a mocking laugh, “you are very protective of your brother are you not? Do you not think him capable of fighting his own battles?”

Haldir leant closer, until his breath brushed Boromir’s cheek, “and do not presume to insult me by insinuating that I have any less care and affection for Faramir than you yourself do.”

Boromir watched mesmerised as the perfect features of the elf came even closer.

Haldir’s voice was silky as he continued speaking, “but I have only one question for you Boromir of Gondor, Which of us were you watching?”

Chapter 3

Two days had passed since the fencing match that had so shamed Boromir. He had avoided both his brother and Haldir, unready to face them and the questions their presence posed.

Instead he stalked the practise grounds, drilling the fighters unmercifully, and then retiring to his room to drink far too much wine. It was on the second night, as he picked up the bottle to refill his cup and then with an expression of disgust tossed it away, empty, into a corner, that the wine and the exhaustion failed to keep the questions from slipping into his mind.

//why had Faramir not called out to him, if he knew he was present?//

//why had he stayed? why had he been so aroused, so jealous?//

and hardest to answer still, //which of them was he jealous of?//

It was this last question which sent him to the cabinet to find the brandy, and so to a restless night plagued by dreams from which he woke sweating and aching.

The morning saw him in one of the smaller practise rooms, stripped to the waist and sweating his hangover out of his body unmercifully. An hour had passed and he was drinking from the water jug when Faramir walked in. Boromir spluttered water across himself.

“Good morning Brother,” Faramir said lightly, “the other practise rooms seem to be full of your guard practising diligently. I heard one of them mention something about surprise inspections?” He walked over to the side and began testing the wooden practise blades; “you have been driving them hard the last few days.”

“They need to be kept alert little brother” Boromir returned irritably, “the war is over but our guard cannot falter”

Faramir turned back, his outer tunic stripped off now, “So if their general does not let his guard down neither must the men?”

Boromir licked his suddenly dry lips, “I will leave you to practise” he said curtly.

“Nay brother, would you desert me then?” Faramir’s voice was playful. “Come, we have not sparred together for some time, and you have often said that without practise against a real opponent ones skills grow rusty.”

Boromir hesitated.

“Unless of course the captain of Gondor has better things to do than spend time with his little brother?”

He couldn’t’ say no to that plea however, remembering too many times when he had been the only company Faramir had in the cold citadel. He grunted an assent and moved over to change his heavier sword for the lighter fencing blade.

Faramir smiled to himself, it has been underhand to use the childish plea against his brother but it had worked. He had not taken two hours of searching to find him, go back to his rooms and change into appropriate clothing for an ‘impromptu’ fencing match, just to be put off at the first sign of resistance.

They moved to the centre of the room and began. As always when they sparred Boromir took on the role of a firm but fond tutor, correcting Faramir’s mistakes and commenting approvingly on his form.

Faramir let this go on for a little while, until he saw the lines of tension start to dissolve from his brothers’ face. A particularly hard attack from Boromir nearly slipped past his guard and he laughed as he stepped to one side.

Boromir frowned and stepped back, “you shouldn’t take this so lightly Faramir, these skills are not ones to be neglected whether you are a warrior by calling or not.”

The mini lecture and tone of voice was almost word for word what Boromir had said to him so many times when he was still in his teens and early twenties hating the necessity for hours of weapons practise when he would rather have been in the libraries or out riding free. Faramir shook his head, “brother you are the one who is holding back. That attack should have skewered me, do you forget I am not your little brother but a captain of the ithlian rangers?”
For answer Boromir growled, but he did step up the pace of his attacks. To his surprise Faramir matched him easily. He would never be as strong but he had gained confidence and an economy of movement that made the most of his lightness of foot and agility.

A few more minutes passed and then in a complicated movement Faramir parried one attack, and when Boromir other hand came out to catch his sword hand, he stepped into rather than away from the move, swinging round so that although he was held fast, he was stood behind Boromir, forcing the older man to twist awkwardly to keep hold of his sword arm and prevent the blade from touching his throat. Faramir’s own free hand drifted up to brush aside the sweat damp tangle of hair at his brothers ear.

“Oh I don’t take this lightly at all dear brother” he murmured before freeing himself with a deft twist and stepping away.

Boromir turned round, clenching his fists, using anger and the lingering pain of his hangover to distract himself from the ugly knowledge that his pulse had quickened the minute his brother had stood so close behind him.

They were both tiring now, and the fight became less graceful, less choreographed. Anxious to have this over with, but too proud to call a halt, Boromir pushed his attack harder than he would normally allow in a practise bout. hard enough that when his sword caught Faramir’s wrist, blunted though it was it struck with enough force to bring blood welling to the surface in an ugly bruise. The pain and the forceful attack had the younger man stumbling backwards and down to one knee. Ruled by a mixture of anger and lust Boromir pressed forward. He swept aside the clumsy parry and his sword was at his brothers throat.

Only the harsh sound of panting breath broke the silence, then Faramir let his sword hand go limp, his blade clattering on the floor. He looked up, lips parted for breath, face sweat sheened and eyes bright.

Boromir looked down into his brothers face. The blade fell away as his hands began to tremble.

“you win my brother” said Faramir very softly, “I submit to your skill”

But that wasn’t true, not to Boromir. He felt an ache in his chest, a weakness in his limbs and knew that if Faramir had chosen to strike him at that moment he would be helpless to defend himself, helpless to do anything but drown in his brothers blue eyes.

---

That night Boromir tossed and turned, his dreams as haunted as before. This time not even brandy could prevent the merciless procession of images, Faramir laughing, Faramir pressed back against the cabinet, Haldir’s hand on Faramir’s hip, …… Faramir, his brother, bruised and breathless, submitting to him on his knees.

In another room the younger brother also found little rest.

“Do you think?”

“I am sure of it…. His eyes follow you constantly”

“He is jealous, protective of his brother, nothing more”

“do you say that because you believe it is true or because you wish it to be true?”

“……….. I do nto wish the knowing monster of jealously on any person”

“not even Boromir?”

“no……….. I would have him sharing the joy others are finding now after the war has ended”

“I doubt he will find much happiness now”

“would you change that?”

“yes”

do you want him?”

“do you?”

“…………………….”

“then would it not be selfish for us to hoard our happiness?”

TBC...

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