Faramir Fiction Archive

Anywhere With You (NC-17)

Written by Kissa

20 September 2006 | 12845 words

Chapter 5

They fled Rohan like outlaws, under the cover of darkness just before dawn.

“I know you are probably very sore, brother, but we must ride out now. My mission has been carried out and you no longer have to stay here for even more courtesy talks with the book-keepers and the King’s clerks. It is beneath your dignity, your task as Gondor’s ambassador is done. Let us go out separate ways, you back home to Gondor and I to Ithilien. We will meet soon, in sunnier times.” Faramir said as they saddled up their horses and mounted outside the gates.

Boromir looked at him in the dim moonlight and sadness was etched on his face as he spoke:

“Is it yet another of your visions, little one? May I remind you that only the ill-fated ones come true. Is it your wishful thinking maybe? What are our chances? What makes you say that sunnier times lie ahead and not death or separation?

Faramir reached over and caressed his brother’s face as if he were the older one offering comfort.

“I know, dear brother, that when we meet again I will give myself to you and no one, not even the Black Gates will keep us apart.”

His promise did not register in Boromir’s mind until a few moments afterwards, when a violent shudder went through him.

“You must think me a cruel and low being to do such a thing to you. My desire for you burns like the very fires of Mordor, but never would I be able to act on it, now that I know what its fulfillment brings upon the other.”

“Nay… there are other ways, I know it, and I shall seek for them, I shall learn them for you. I will find a way to wrap you tightly in my love and keep you safe in it, safer than behind any shield made by man or elf. Mark my words, beloved.”

Boromir looked at him a bit frightened, never having seen such passion etched on his little brother’s face. He knew Faramir had a perseverance that made things come about according to his will, making it look like a magical hand had touched them. His whole body was still sore, especially that part of him which burned and made him sit uncomfortably in his saddle, and his mind was heavy with shame and despair. His brother had promised him his body… he could no longer promise that to anyone of his choice. His hate directed at Théodred knew no limits, but he would plan his revenge well and long, making sure the heir to the throne of Rohan would get to feel his wrath, his humiliation, and his pain too.

When their roads had to part, Faramir leaned towards Boromir and kissed him for a long time, lovingly and tenderly, only an un-intrusive caress of lips on lips before advising:

“Do not mope, do not show your longing to father or he will know. We cannot afford to be caught.”

At that moment, Boromir would have promised anything just to feel those loving lips on his own, a kiss so healing and true which had the power to erase part of the humiliation and disgust that Théodred had marked him with.

And Faramir kissed him again, then rode away without looking back, both of them knowing a longer goodbye would have resulted in them never leaving that very spot.

---

(Minas Tirith)

“I am so tired of you challenging my every decision! And frankly, I am bored by all this meaningless worrying over unimportant issues! All that matters is the war, and nothing else, do you hear me, Boromir?” Denethor barked.

They had been fighting and arguing ever since Boromir had come home. His diplomatic mission had been a success, and the Steward had congratulated him, but it was domestic politics that set their relationship ablaze. Father and son had different views on the same issues and sparks were flying in all directions.

“In fact, I don’t need anyone to question my authority and make me look bad in front of the subjects! You are not yet the Steward, Boromir – you will rule as you see fit when you are, but until then… I want you to take an indefinite leave and join your brother in Ithilien. You will not be there on vacation, son, believe me. You will give me reports on Imrahil’s moves and plans and keep an eye on that no good brother of yours. Now go and get ready, and be on your way at dawn!”

Boromir was used to his father’s distant treatment and lack of consideration, but this time he was even glad to see nothing had changed. It meant that his shame couldn’t be read on his face, not even by someone as cunning and perceptive as his father. But he had to struggle really hard to keep ecstasy away from his features upon learning that he and Faramir would have time to spend together. So he bowed respectfully and left the throne room at once already planning what to pack and what to bring Faramir to pleasantly surprise him.

His favorite book in Elvish maybe? His flute? Some apricot jam? Boromir thought of all this and figured he could take all of those items and still it would not be enough to compensate for all his little brother had given and shown him. Complete love and trust, and comfort when he had needed it.

He spent a restless night trying to picture their reunion, his anxiety reaching disturbing peaks. The truth was he had one great reason for joy and held it dear, not wanting to let himself be haunted by the dreadful memories which he had so carefully bottled up.

The next day he got his horse ready and packed his gear on, leaving before Minas Tirith awoke.

It was a lonely, dull ride to Ithilien, but Boromir had time to sort his feelings and think about his fears. He would conquer them all for the sake of seeing his brother look at him with awe and trust. He would face his feelings, which he had kept under wraps so well, and take anything Faramir intended to give him. And Boromir could only hope the feeling of disgust against himself would lessen so that he would be able to tell his brother how he loved him and mean it with all his being.

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