Faramir Fiction Archive

Warriors of Gondor (NC-17)

Written by Hel

14 May 2012 | 182144 words | Work in Progress

Part 3: PATROLLING THE WEST

Faramir was overjoyed to be riding with his brother. They were bringing a string of horses and supplies to rejoin Boromir’s company in Lamedon. They rode at a steady pace, hoping to meet up with them within the week. In the interim, they planned to enjoy their time alone together.

Each night after they made camp, Faramir would spend a few minutes writing in the journal he’d promised Boromir. When he finished, Boromir would read what he had written. After eating their dinner, they settled down on their blankets. The warm spring air caressed their nude bodies as they lay together on their pallet. Boromir ran his hand down Faramir’s back, glad that the wounds from his beating were undetectable to his touch. He applied healing oil to his scarred flesh. “Are you saddle sore?” he asked as he reached his butt.

“Just a little,” Faramir admitted.

Boromir thoroughly massaged his ass cheeks, running his thumbs down the cleft between them, pressing lightly at the puckered opening. When Faramir was gasping in pleasure, he moved down to rub the backs and insides of his thighs.

He then pulled Faramir over so that they faced each other. They exchanged hungry kisses and caresses. “Let me possess you,” he whispered in his brother’s ear. “I want to be deep inside you, my beloved one.”

Faramir wrapped his legs around his brother’s waist. “Yes, take me brother.”

He used some of the oil he’d brought to slick his cock, then he began slowly pushing it into his brother. They both cried out, it felt so good. Boromir pulled Faramir’s knees up so he could go deeper. They were too impatient to go slow, and only a few thrusts brought them both off.

Boromir rolled over onto his side, bringing Faramir with him. They both laughed, not in the least worried about how quick it had been. That had only been the start.

After they had rested a while, Faramir urged his brother onto his back. He slid his oiled cock into his ass as he slid his knees under him. Boromir’s raised lower body looked so enticing that it inspired Faramir.

Leaning forward, he put his elbows on the insides of Boromir’s thighs, pushing them to the side. Then he put his hands under the small of his back pulling up. Boromir watched in amazement as Faramir hunched forward and took the head of his cock in his mouth. The feeling was incredible, his brother’s cock in his ass and mouth on his own aching erection at the same time.

Faramir was ecstatic that his idea worked. It felt so wonderful, his cock buried deep in Boromir’s ass, Boromir’s cock in his mouth. If he were any less limber, or Boromir’s cock any shorter, it wouldn’t have worked. Sucking at his cock and pulling with his hands, he encouraged Boromir to move between their points of contact.

Boromir gripped Faramir’s thighs and began slowly thrusting up and down. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but the eroticism had them both at the edge quickly. Boromir cried out as Faramir swallowed his completion, while filling his ass with his own.

Boromir held his brother close, kissing his brow, to hear the soft sigh. “You didn’t hurt yourself?” he questioned as Faramir stretched beneath his hands.

“It was a bit cramping, but not painful,” he answered. “If I get much taller I won’t be able to do it, though.” He grinned mischievously at him. “So, we better do it as much as possible while we can.”

They rode swiftly to their planned rendezvous, anxious to rejoin Boromir’s company. Faramir was a little nervous, but Boromir tried to calm his fears by describing his men. He even told him which of them he had taken as lovers, and the details. Faramir felt no jealousy towards his brother’s lovers. He had taken too much pleasure in the past from watching him with both men and women. There was also the sure knowledge of whom his brother’s heart belonged to.

They spotted the riders before noon of the sixth day, Boromir’s coat of arms flying beneath the flag of Gondor. Happy as he was to see them, they were joyous at his return. Draymor, Boromir’s second in command, clasped his arm warmly as they met.

“So this is the brother you have told me so much about.” He gave Faramir an appraising look, and seemed to like what he saw.

Faramir, for his part, sat tall in the saddle apparently at ease on horseback, his weapons all in easy reach. His whole appearance so much like his older brother that it was uncanny. The only difference in their armament was Faramir’s two bows, one a long bow, wrapped with its quiver of arrows for riding, and a short horseman’s bow ready at his back with its own quiver of shorter arrows. Also, Faramir wore a long knife, or half-sword, instead of carrying a shield like his brother.

They all rode together to their planned camp. Boromir had Faramir hand off the string of horses and bade him to ride in the shieldman’s position, beside and slightly behind him on the left. He wanted there to be no doubt in anyone’s mind where his brother belonged.

Of course, there are those who always have to push and test their boundaries. After they set up camp, Faramir went to find some of his and Boromir’s personal belongings that had gone astray. He quickly looked through the stacked trail bags, not seeing the distinctive pack that had been a gift from his brother. As he turned back toward the main camp, he noticed five men standing around the missing bag. Their obvious leader stood holding Faramir’s journal in his hand.

As the youngest and disfavored son of the Steward of Gondor, he had been forced to prove himself many times. As the well-loved brother of Boromir, he’d been given every tool to do so. Used to being younger and smaller than most of his opponents, he had plenty of confidence in his ability to take care of this situation.

Casually he walked over to where the men stood watching. “If you are done going through my personal property, I would like to have it back now,” he told the leader.
The man, who stood a good foot taller than him, curled his lip in a sneer. “And who’s going to make me?” he said.

Without hesitation, Faramir acted. A quick hard uppercut to the solar plexus, followed by a kick to the back of the knee, brought the man to the ground. Putting his knee on the man’s chest and taking his throat in a strangling hold, he leaned close.

“I have no patience for thieves or bullies,” he said. “I will let this one time slide, but you will not get a second chance.” He waited a moment until he was sure there was no doubt that he could and would back up his threat, then rose to his feet. Picking the journal up from where it had fallen, he indicated that one of the stunned men watching should carry the pack to the tent he shared with his brother.

“Is he as good with weapons?” Draymor asked, looking over Boromir’s shoulder from within the tent.

“He’s better,” was the satisfied answer. “And even better at other things.”

“Will I get a chance to experience any of these ‘other things’?” he asked, running a hand under Boromir’s shirt and across his well-muscled back.

“We’ll ask,” he told him.

When Faramir entered the tent, he noted the look in his brother’s eye, and the echoing one in his companion’s. With admirable restraint, he told the man where to place his bag and dismissed him. He went about the business of getting food and serving it while listening to the report of what had happened during Boromir’s absence. After he cleared away and cleaned the dishes, maps were brought out and plans were made for the patrols for the next few days.

Faramir wrote in his journal while they talked, pausing frequently to listen, and occasionally to comment on their plans. Then all had been decided, the maps put away, and Faramir’s journal placed before his brother.

Boromir ran his hand up Faramir’s arm. “Draymor would like to stay and welcome you properly, little brother,” he said huskily. “Would you like that?”

Faramir had never before been allowed to share one of his brother’s lovers, and wanted to, desperately. “Yes, brother, I would like that very much.”

Boromir pulled him close for a rough kiss, “Good, let me read what you have written for me.”

Suddenly shy, Faramir looked across the table at Draymor. The other man’s lustful look filled him with confidence. He had always been well rewarded for his sexual aggressiveness, so he rounded the table and approached him. Feeling his brother’s eyes on him, stopping in front of Draymor he leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. Remembering all the times he had watched his brother, he made sure that none of his movements blocked Boromir’s view.

He put his left hand in the man’s hair so that he could angle his head for maximum effect. With his right hand he began opening Draymor’s clothes. They kissed and stripped each other slowly, Faramir guiding their movements, and occasionally pausing to look at his brother. It didn’t take long for Draymor to realize that Faramir was showing off for Boromir, and he found the idea highly erotic.

Boromir hadn’t been able to read a single word of the journal, his eyes locked on the scene before him. He’d never watched anyone have sex before, and his talented little brother knew how to put on a show. Urging Draymor to his feet, Faramir went to his knees and took the larger man’s cock in his mouth. Boromir knew how good that mouth felt, his own erection throbbing as the outline of Draymor’s cock showed clearly through Faramir’s cheek. He pulled back slowly until only the head of his cock was still in his mouth. Then he plunged forward again, taking him all the way back in. Faramir’s hands were busy too, one massaging the hanging nut sack and the other working his ass.

Draymor’s knees sagged as he had an almost overpowering orgasm. Swallowing quickly, Faramir finished him off and guided him back onto the chair.

“Come here,” Boromir told him, he had had enough of watching. He pulled Faramir into his arms, kissing him. They exchanged hungry kisses and caresses. Faramir opened his brother’s pants, pulling his cock free. He quickly wet it with his mouth and then began impaling himself on it.

Draymor watched, astonished, he’d always had to use plenty of lube before he could take Boromir’s huge penis. Faramir slid down easily, both of them crying out at the wild contact.

They moved swiftly together, unwilling to wait for their release. Unable to stop himself, Faramir leaned forward and bit his brother on the collarbone, drawing blood. It brought them both to climax, Boromir pulling his brother close. Embarrassed by the new raw bloody mark he put on his brother, Faramir turned away. Boromir turned his face up and licked a trace of blood from his lips before kissing him deeply.

“Don’t worry, little brother,” he told him. “I have received worse wounds than that, and none nearly so pleasurable.” There was a small line of bite marks on his collarbone, but this was the deepest. Boromir ran his finger across them. “I like it when you mark me Faramir, don’t ever stop.”

Draymor was surprised by the combination of roughness and tenderness between the brothers. The time he had spent with Boromir as second in command and sometime lover had shown him an able leader who was good in the sack, even if he was very dominating. Of course, his attitude let anyone close to him know that the relationship between him and his brother was different.

His thoughts were interrupted when Boromir looked up at him and asked, “Do you want to see something really special?”

Minutes later he was astounded to watch Faramir fucking his brother’s ass and deep-throating his cock at the same time.

“Orcs,” the scout said. “About fifty of them. They’re hiding out during the day, but at night they come out and raid the local villages.”

“We could try and ambush them on their way back to camp,” said Draymor. “Or try and find their camp and get them during the day.”

“They’re using caves, we’d like as not be wiped out if we tried to get them in there.”

“Maybe we could use something for bait and lure them into a trap,” Faramir suggested.

“About the only thing to keep them out past sunrise is the chance to snack on a human or two, and I’m not willing to volunteer for that duty,” Draymor scoffed.

“I will,” said Faramir.

“You’ve never fought orcs,” his brother told him. “Maybe next time. Let’s try to set up an ambush. I want their movements watched, we’ll try to catch them close to dawn.”

Standing at his brother’s side, Faramir felt excitement and fear mingled. The scouts had signaled that the orcs were heading straight for them. Since it was still dark, he’d left both his bows with the horses. As they heard the enemy approach, Boromir leaned closer and kissed his brow, bringing forth a sigh. “Fight well, little brother,” he said in his ear.

None of the stories he’d ever heard came near the reality of battle. The fires that were lit as the trap was sprung barely illuminated their opponents. In the flickering light he cut and thrust against the monsters he faced, not sure if it was better that he couldn’t see them in detail or not. They were hideous, clawed hands and fanged faces, their blood burning his skin where it touched. Growling and roaring their foul language, hurting his ears. And the smell, worse than anything he could have imagined. But all this was at the back of his mind as he moved into the fighting rhythm he had been trained to since he could walk. It came much easier than he had thought it would, bothered him even less than the one man he’d already killed. Maybe it was that he fought such foul creatures.

The battle was over in minutes. He looked first for his brother, who was looking for him. They exchanged grins, and then Boromir went about the business of assessing damage. Faramir cleaned his weapons, and then followed his brother. When Boromir ordered the orcs burned, Faramir moved to go help pile the bodies, but his brother stopped him.

“You have done well, little brother,” he told him. “We can go celebrate tonight.”
Blushing, Faramir helped with the clean up. They found the cave entrance the orcs had been using, and blocked it, before returning to camp for a meal and a nap. In the afternoon they moved their camp, setting up near a large village.

As evening fell, Faramir followed his big brother to a house at the edge of the village. The woman waiting within was tall and beautiful, with long dark hair. She greeted Boromir with a very warm kiss.

“Lani, this is my brother, Faramir,” he said as the kiss ended.

She turned her attentions to the younger brother, kissing him as warmly. “He looks as wonderful as you have told me,” she said as she looked him over. “I hope you plan to share him with me. After you both have a bath, of course,” she added, wrinkling her nose.

Boromir pulled them both into his arms. “I would never tease you my dear, he is yours for this night. I will only join in if you ask.”

“Come let me bathe you,” she told them. The bathroom was huge for such a little house. At Faramir’s bemused look, Lani offered an explanation. “Your brother had this house built for me to my specifications. I do like my comforts.”

The tub was large enough for several people. She began helping Faramir out of his clothes. “I definitely want you to help me, my love,” she told Boromir.

He stripped quickly, and entered the tub. Her hands readily began helping strip Faramir, but this was slow and sensuous. He held his brother up as Lani removed his boots and then his pants. Lowering him to sit on the raised edge of the tub, he began guiding him in the removal of their hostess’ clothes.

“Welcome the appearance of her flesh with gentle kisses, little brother,” he told him. “Caress her breasts, lift them, feel their weight,” he whispered in his ear.

“Listen to her, watch her, and learn what pleases her.” He had to force himself to keep his own hands still, so as to not distract his brother.

Faramir had little time to be nervous between his brother’s instructions and the very willing and beautiful woman he was undressing. He loved the feel of her flesh, much softer and plumper than was popular in Minas Tirith. At times, only his brother’s voice kept him from losing control. His hands brushed her chemise from her hips as his tongue laved her belly.

“I’ve trained you well Boromir,” Lani told him, stepping back. “That is enough for now, I want you to get clean. I hate the smell of orc blood.”

Laughing, Boromir pulled Faramir into the bath with him. “We will join you when we’re clean,” he told her retreating figure. They washed quickly, Boromir bringing his brother to climax with a couple of rough strokes. “You want to be able to last a while with Lani.”

Lani waited lounging on the bed in a lascivious pose. Faramir sat on the edge, reached out and stroked her leg. He’d watched his brother many times with women and men, now he put into use what he’d seen, and what he’d learned on his own. Leaning over her, he began kissing her. Starting with short gentle pecks, he proceeded to long, deep, wet kisses. His hands roamed freely, varying from gentle to rough. Soon Lani was gasping in pleasure, unable to keep still under his ministrations.

Boromir watched from a nearby chair, proud and excited by his talented brother. Suddenly he realized how sexually aggressive Faramir was. Moving his whole body, he had taken complete control. Lani was helpless in his arms, just as Boromir often was.

Taking her hips in his hands, Faramir slowly entered her. He watched her face as she moaned and cried out uncontrollably. Long slow thrusts brought more cries, as he licked and nipped at her breasts and neck. Then he sped up his pace, going harder and deeper.

Lani was almost screaming as she started climaxing in a long orgasm that lasted several minutes. Finally he let himself cum, and rolled them both on their sides, holding her close.

Boromir got into the bed beside his brother, putting his arm across both him and Lani. Even though watching them had brought his own release, he still hungered for more. “That was so beautiful, brother,” he said, kissing the back of his neck.

Lani was regaining her breath, her free hand traveling restlessly between the two brothers. “I would watch you two now. I want to see Boromir fuck his little brother into oblivion.”

“Oh yes,” Faramir agreed. “Fuck me hard, brother.” He rolled onto his back, one arm sliding beneath Boromir’s waist, the other going to his hip, pulling him closer. “Take me now.” He wrapped his legs around him as Boromir moved over him.

Lani watched in surprise as Boromir thrust completely into Faramir with only a little spit as lubricant. They both cried out in pleasure as Boromir set a brutal pace.

“Harder,” Faramir cried, his hands clenching his brother’s arms to get better leverage for his counter thrusts. They went on for some minutes, their coupling fast and violent. Finally, Faramir reached up and pulled Boromir close enough to bite his collarbone. He bit hard, drawing blood as they both came.

Lani’s hand went to the tender bruise on her own collarbone as she watched. When Boromir rolled to his back, she noticed for the first time, the line of bite marks on him. The newest one deep and bloody. It excited her. She’d never engaged in any rough sex and wasn’t sure she really wanted to. But watching was a different proposition.

“Let me see you bite him again,” she said to Faramir.

He sat up and leaned over Boromir. “Can I have another taste, brother?” he asked, kissing the newest mark.

“Oh yes,” he groaned. “Give me more.”

As he bent over his brother, she was distracted by the scars that covered Faramir’s back. Boromir had sent her a letter telling her about what had happened, but the sight was still shocking.

“Yes, mark me,” Boromir said as he was bitten again, regaining her attention. His cock sprang erect with his groans.

She crawled across Faramir and began lowering herself onto Boromir’s erection. Leaning forward, she kissed the bite marks. “You both are so beautiful, so sexy, I don’t know if I can get enough.”

Faramir watched them for a few moments before moving between Boromir’s legs. He rubbed Lani’s back urging her to lean forward across his brother. With one hand on her back he slowly guided his newly erect penis into her vagina next to Boromir’s cock.

Lani started panting, at the incredible feeling. She would have expected it to hurt, but there wasn’t any pain, just increasing pressure. ‘How could a boy know so much?’ she asked herself. Her eyes rolled up in her head as she began orgasming, all control lost.

Pulling Lani to his chest, Boromir locked eyes with his brother. He could feel him moving against him in her spasming heat. It was unbelievably erotic and only his brother’s commanding gaze kept him from losing his own control.

Finally Faramir was all the way in. He stopped, giving the other two time to adjust. Lani lay panting on Boromir’s chest, her initial orgasm over. He guided Boromir’s hands to her hips and they started moving again. Suddenly they were over-heated again. The brothers were moving Lani’s hips; Faramir was making short thrusts and withdrawals. It took very little time before they were all climaxing.

Faramir drank deeply from the water that had been hidden in the shade of the large boulder. Binding the cut on his forearm, he looked down his back trail to see if his trackers were in sight yet. He took his vambrace from his belt and put it back on his forearm. Boromir was going to be mad at him for cutting himself and leaving a blood trail for the orcs. But he wanted to make sure they would all follow him.

Bird calls and whistles sounded from the woods, signaling the approach of the orcs.
He started up the steep trail behind him. Stopping at a wide sheltered ledge, he recovered the bows he had hidden there. He strung the longbow, and surveyed the gully below, waiting for the signal to fire. It was nearly dawn, and he already could make out colors.

Suddenly the orcs were pouring out of the woods in a black flood. Their enraged growls made him extremely aware of being alone. The signal finally sounded and he began picking off what looked like the most dangerous orcs.

The sound of loose gravel falling brought him around to see Draymor landing beside him on the trail. The man leaned back to avoid Faramir’s arrow, grinning at him. Without pausing, Faramir turned back to the approaching enemy and continued the slaughter.

“You are so in trouble,” Draymor told him, as he drew his sword and looked down the trail Faramir had come up earlier. “Boromir saw you bleeding down the trail and sent me down here to back you up.”

“I’ll be fine,” Faramir said through gritted teeth. “I know what I’m doing. I’d have to lose a lot more blood than that to slow me down.” The longbow was soon out of arrows, so he switched to the short bow. Its range was shorter, but the orcs were close now.

“There must be a couple hundred of them,” Draymor said as even more orcs came out of the woods. “Looks like I’ll earn my pay today.”

The orcs had reached the base of the hill and were crowding up the narrow trail. Faramir shot the last of his arrows and turned to join Draymor. There was only enough room for one person at a time on the narrow trail; the blood-crazed orcs were knocking each other off the cliff face. There were still too many of them to be complacent about their approach.

As the first orc reached the ledge, the full light of the sun reached them. The monsters cried out in terror and pain, cursing the two before them. Most of them began fleeing, only a very few continuing to fight. As the last belligerents fell, Faramir attempted to follow the retreating foes.

Draymor stopped him with a strong hand on his shoulder. “Boromir wants you to wait here for him,” he said, before descending the trail.

Faramir gathered his bows and quivers and leaned against a large rock to wait for his brother. Several troops passed by giving him admiring glances before his brother was at his side. This time there were no after battle grins, just a hard disapproving stare. Faramir saw the pain and fear in his brother’s eyes and it made him feel reckless and cruel.

“I have to gather my arrows,” he told him when he remained.

Boromir signaled him to proceed with a nod towards the trail and followed him down. Faramir was wracked with anger and guilt as his brother remained silent even as he assisted in gathering the spent shafts, and all the way back to camp.

He helped his brother remove his armor, and then they removed his. Faramir was soaked in sweat and held still as his brother washed him and removed the makeshift bandage on his arm. The wound wasn’t bad, just deep enough to bleed profusely until pressure was applied.

“How could you hurt yourself like this?” Boromir asked, tears in his voice as he kissed the cut.

“If anything had gone wrong you would have been torn apart. I don’t think I could bear to lose you like that.” He enfolded him in his arms, tears dampening his hair. “Did I make a mistake in bringing you with me?”

Faramir shuddered. “No, brother,” he answered. “I had no idea this would affect you so. I will be more careful and make sure you approve next time.” He kissed his face. “Please forgive me, Boromir. I can’t stand it when you cry.” Faramir began sobbing quietly into his brother’s shirt.

Kissing his forehead, he looked down at his young brother. Although he was almost a year younger than Boromir had been when he had first gone into battle, Faramir had little self-doubt. He was even somewhat cocky in the way he was so sure of his own abilities. The minor cuts and scrapes he’d gotten in previous battles were not enough to quell his self-assuredness. Of course, he was very good at fighting, Boromir had made sure of that.

“You have read enough battle lore to know that the unexpected can bring to ruin any plan. We will put this behind us, and you did succeed, so tonight we will let the men have a victory feast. But I will expect you to make it up to me for alarming me so.”

Faramir dried his tears and smiled up at him. “Thank you, brother,” he whispered. “I love you.”

Moving eastward into the vales of Lossarnach they came upon the hunting camp of Forlong. Boromir introduced his brother to the great hero, who laughed when he saw the boy. “I’m surprised your father would let one so young and sweet ride to battle,” he said through his guffaws. “He looks more like a catamite than a warrior.”

Boromir’s face hardened at his words, but Faramir’s laughter stopped him from any injudicious remarks. “That is priceless, brother,” he said. “I have no problem proving my worth, especially among our allies. What test would you have of me, my lord?”

“Your brother’s choice of you is good enough for me, my boy,” he answered. “But there are those in my camp who may presume upon appearances. Walk carefully young Faramir.”

“Maybe we should have a contest,” Boromir said. “My brother against any champion you choose, any test you choose.”

“Swords, wrestling, or,” Forlong paused for a moment, a wicked smile on his lips. “Perhaps we should see how good a ‘close companion’ he can be.”

Faramir smirked at the gray-haired man whose girth was far beyond that of anyone else he’d ever seen. “All three at once or separately?” he asked, swinging his leg over his saddle and slipping to the ground in a graceful movement. He was dwarfed by the older man, but smiled up at him cockily.

“Ah, to be an impetuous youth,” their host laughed. “Felong, my nephew, will meet with you, sproutling. Since he uses a spear, you can meet barehanded. Wrestling it is.”

The man in question stepped forth, nearly as big as his uncle.

Two falls out of three?” Faramir asked as he began handing his weapons to his brother.

“Of course,” his opponent replied, also disarming himself. He felt smug in his size and power as he stripped off his shirt. Turning he stopped in surprise as he saw Faramir remove his own shirt.

Scars covered his upper body, clean smooth lines made by a sharp blade, tears and ragged gashes, even teeth marks. This may be a mere boy, but his body spoke of trial by pain. Giving no sign that he noticed Felong’s examination, Faramir began stretching muscles made tight by a day in the saddle. This man was not so much bigger than his brother, with luck he would win.

A cleared space was marked out while the details of the rules were discussed. Soon Faramir was facing the much larger man. They circled each other and Felong made a rush which Faramir easily sidestepped, bringing him to the ground with a quick kick to the back of the knee.

Knowing that he could be crushed with ease if his opponent ever got a hand on him, Faramir moved warily. Felong was not going to underestimate the boy again; his pride was smarting from the first mistake. Again they circled around each other, seeking for weaknesses.

Feint and short rush, they kept in constant movement. Sweat poured down Felong’s face, stinging his eyes, he began to tire. Faramir still moved with ease, not a drop of sweat on his brow. Despair crossed the large man’s face as he realized that all the boy had to do was wait him out.

Seeing a slight misstep, Faramir moved to end the match. He dived for Felong’s legs, grabbing one in an effort to trip him. The man’s thighs were as big as his waist and he had to use his whole body to accomplish his goal. A shocked gasp went through the observing crowd as the big man fell.

But, Forlong gave a great laugh. “Arise, my nephew, feel no shame,” he called out. “You had no chance against one trained as he has been.” So saying, the graybeard ran an admiring finger down a set of repeating scars. “I would suppose that you both know the whole series of sword dances created by the champions of Númenor?” he asked Boromir.

“And much more,” the young lord agreed. “My brother and I practice regularly.”

Turning Faramir in his hamlike hand he examined the relevant scars, though he catalogued the others as well. “Practice, yes,” he added. “But, I can see that you have done the whole of all five dances seven times, flawlessly if your brother’s flesh does not lie.”

Actually, I slipped here,” Boromir said, pointing out a slightly irregular cut. “Though Faramir never has, he has a steady hand. He can demonstrate his archery skills at tomorrow’s hunt.”

As they sat around the fire that evening exchanging tales, Faramir watched Felong who seemed to be a bit despondent, despite his uncle’s words. Noting where his brother’s attention was, Boromir nudged him questioningly.

“I think he doesn’t quite forgive me for my victory, brother,” he whispered in his ear. “I would like a chance to make it up to him.”

“You want him,” Boromir stated, seeing the lustful look on his brother’s face.

“I’ve never seen anyone like him before,” he answered truthfully. “So big and hairy, he could crush me easily, yet he still moves with grace. You know I have trouble resisting new things or a challenge.”

Laughing, Boromir gave his permission. “But don’t be surprised or offended if he refuses,” he told him. “Their customs are different than ours.”

As Faramir went to waylay his prey, Forlong, whose sharp ears and eyes had caught the gist of the brothers’ conversation, was making bets with Boromir on his chances of success. Catching up with Felong just before he entered his tent, Faramir stopped him with a friendly hand to his arm.

At first the big man was suspicious, but when he looked at the young warrior before him his heart melted just a little. A few moments later Faramir returned to the fire and sat between Boromir and Forlong. With a wide grin the older man held out his hand to take his payment from the younger.

“He said he would be glad to, once I started growing a beard,” Faramir told them, with satisfaction.

With a laugh Boromir extended his hand and received some of his money back.

When they parted two days later, both brothers had become fast friends with the warriors of Lossarnach.

Putting the letter from his father on the table, Boromir leaned back in his chair with a sigh. They’d only been gone from Minas Tirith for seven months and their father wanted them home. There had been undertones of anger in the letter, but he knew of no reason for it. “Father wants us to come home,” he told his brother, who sat across from him reading his own letter.

Faramir had paled visibly and he looked up at Boromir with frightened eyes. “He knows,” he said in a whisper.

“Knows what?” the older brother asked, already knowing the answer.

“They were late to clean our room on the day we left, everyone was helping to pack the horses. He found our clothes and your bed. He found the door.” Faramir paused, searching for words. “He is discussing marriage contracts with our neighbors and cousins. There is talk of sending me to Rohan.”

Boromir rose at his brother’s words. “We must haste to the White City,” he said. “He made certain promises to me and I would see them kept.” At his brother’s hesitation, he turned to comfort him. “Do not worry that we are revealed to him. It was bound to happen eventually. I have been thinking on this for a long time and am sure that I can handle him.” He kissed Faramir’s brow, smiling at his sigh. “I will always look after you, brother,” he whispered in his hair.

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