Heart

Posted: March 2003
Type: FCS
Author: Trinity Helix
Website: http://trinitycross.net/lotrfan (my Lotr art and fiction site)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Tolkien owns it all.
Warnings: NC-17 (nothing graphic, but as the pairing says, this *is* INCEST.), toothache alert.
Characters: Boromir/Faramir
Genre: Romance
Summary: Nothing at all graphic. Where brothers talk of Politics, life, and each other. Set directly before the events of the "fellowship of the ring".
Comments: Written as a story swap for Deanna, from whom I got a Haldir/Elrond in return. :) Faramir's POV. Set directly before the events of Fellowship of the Ring.

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It is unheard of, among the race of men, to fall in love with their own blood. Brother and sister were not meant to be bound, and on the few occasions that children were borne of this unholy union, they were cast out into the shadows and the darkness.

I have known of this rule since I was but a boy, standing behind his brother who radiated pride and glory through every pore. As the only two sons of our imminently busy father, the Steward of Gondor, our relationship was a close one. Often when we were children, I would become frightened by the howling storms. Boromir never laughed at me for this, and he would let me lay by his side til either morning came or the storms would cease.

As we grew older, I remember seeing precious little of him between lessons, and even less as he grew old enough to ride with father. As such, the times I spent with him filled my heart with joy-he was my hero, plain and simple, and all I wanted in the world was to be like him.

I don't know precisely when my feelings turned from admiration to passion, from brotherly love to painful longing. Perhaps it was when I turned fifteen, and I woke from fitful dreams of dragon-slaying and my brother riding to my rescue, my belly sticky with my own seed. And perhaps it was when he rode home on my seventeenth birthday to be with me when he knew father had forgotten the day. Or even last winter, when he came home from a long journey and embraced me, smelling of leather and dust and sweat.

...Or perhaps it was yesterday, when our eyes met over the dinner table, sharing a private joke that only we two would ever know.

"Faramir?"

His voice startles me from my reverie, and I look up to see him standing uncertainly in the doorway.

"Are you busy...?"

I smile and shake my head. "Of course not, my brother. You have been away for far too long..." I say. "I miss our conversations and your company."

Boromir's face relaxes and he takes a seat by my side, staring into my room's small fireplace. He says nothing for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought.

"What troubles you, brother?" I ask, confused by his small hesitations. Boromir is usually not one to procrastinate; he has always been the strong one.

He sighs, tapping a finger on his knee. "Trouble is brewing in middle-earth, Faramir," he says finally. "I have been hearing talk of a looming threat, and even the elves are becoming agitated."

"The elves?" I repeat, stupidly. Politics has never been my strong point.

My brother flashes me a half-smile before turning serious once more. "Aye. There is talk of war-- a war that will sweep through all of our kingdoms and cause much sorrow and death," he says in a low voice. "So the elves say, as they travel past our borders to journey west."

"Perhaps they are simply trying to cause disharmony-- they are suspicious creatures, and I have never trusted them," I suggest, grinning a little to ease the tension.

He continues as if I had not spoken. "Every day there are more and more of them-- they are leaving for their Undying Lands, fleeing from this place which has no future." The last sentence is a bare whisper, and I lean in close to catch his words.

"Boromir?" I ask, hesitantly. It is true that I have not been past the castle walls in many months, but surely the situation cannot be that *bad*.

"It is true, brother, and I fear for your safety-- and for that of Gondor's, and the whole of Middle-earth's."

And there it is. Suddenly, I understand where all of this is going. Boromir, trying to save the world-- yet again. "You're leaving, aren't you?" I ask hollowly.

"It is for your sake, and for the sake of our kin, that I..."

But I cut him off with a sharp gesture. "You've just returned from Rohan! Can you not spare a few days for rest in your own home?" I ask him bitterly. "It is as if you no longer live here, Boromir."

He looks at me sadly, and I cannot stand the disappointment I see in his eyes. "It is your kingdom, too, Faramir," he says, and my heart breaks a little as he stands.

"I am leaving tomorrow for a distant land, and I had hoped we could pass the time together. The way to Rivendell is hard; I know not how long my journey will be."

"Rivendell? That is elf-land," I swallow, and much of my anger diminishes. "It is serious, then. Father wouldn't send you for a political dalliance."

He nods wordlessly, and suddenly I feel old. I have not seen my brother in many months, and tomorrow he is leaving again. Perhaps for a few weeks, perhaps for a few years. War-councils are unpredictable beasts.

"Sit down, Boromir," I say finally. "You needn't look so torn; duty calls, and my brother must answer with his sword and his horn, saving the poor and innocent villagers."

He laughs at that, and for a moment all is well again. There is a cosy fire before us, and we are sitting on the same couch we have shared since we were children. His laughter is rich and warm, and I close my eyes, letting it wash over me. It has been too long since I was last in his presence.

Then his laughter slows and stops, and I open my eyes to see him watching me intently.

A small, shy smile creeps unto my face. "What do you see, when you look at me like that?" I ask softly.

A pause, then, without taking his eyes off me, he whispers his answer.

"I see Faramir, noble-born and skilled with his bow, no longer a young boy but still bearing the cloak of naivete. Faramir, who tortures me with his gibes and ceaseless talk; who never stills his mouth no matter how much I wish he would.'

'I see my brother, strong and proud and..."

And then he stops, suddenly, and breaks my gaze. I lean forward, not willing to let the moment go.

"And...?" I prompt gently, and lay a soft hand on his rough one, radiating warmth from my palm.

He stares at it, and so very, very slowly, turns his hand around. Our palms rub against each other, and my fingers close lightly around his.

"...and beautiful," he finishes hoarsely.

To this day, I honestly do not know who moved first. All I know is that I made as if to edge nearer, and in the next moment I was wrapped tightly within the circle of strong arms, my brother's chin resting lightly on the top of my head.

"Boromir...?" I ask, my voice slightly muffled against the soft leather of his tunic.

He cups my cheek in his palm and tilts my face up; my breath hitches. This moment, this brief, brief, moment, could quite possibly change our lives forever. It may lead to the downfall of our kingdom, the ruin of our father, and shame to the race of Men.

Something flickers in his eyes, and as I look into them I realize that the apprehension I feel is mirrored in his own.

He looks away, then, and releases my chin. The breath I did not even realize I was holding comes out in a whoosh.

"I am sorry, Faramir, I don't know what came over me," he says, and stands (stands!!??). "I am tired, and I must rest for the long journey ahead."

He has actually made it to the door before I regain my voice. "Boromir!" I manage to gasp out, and leap from the couch and am by his side in seconds.

He has a confused expression on his face, and as he opens his mouth to speak, I reach up and kiss him.

Boromir's mouth is warm and wet, and quite conveniently open. He makes a muffled sort of sound as I, very carefully, very gently, kiss him.

It is not a deep sort of kiss, like lovers share, but neither is it a quick peck, like brothers long-absent give each other. It is soft, and sweet, and more *right* than I could ever have imagined.

His arms wind around my waist to pull me closer even as I nudge him against the door.

He is intoxicating, and when we pull away, my eyes are glassy.

"Faramir..."

"Sleep with me, tonight, my brother," I ask him.

There is pain in his eyes. "Faramir, we can't..."

"Just sleep," I whisper. "Lay beside me as we did when we were young... Keep my fears of losing you away for the night, Boromir. Just hold me.'

'We will let other matters keep til your return."

My brother nods. "Aye," he says, and takes my hand and leads me to my bed. "We will speak when I return."

He lays down on the mattress, and I beside him; my head resting on his chest. Our hands find one another in the darkness, and I feel, rather than see, him smile.

"I love you..." I whisper, and he sighs.

"And I you, my brother."

My eyes drift shut, and I am surrounded by his warmth and his scent, and under my cheek I feel him breath.

He is my brother and my heart, and in this moment I am at peace with all the world.

**Later**

When I wake, he is gone, and the only thing that remains of him is his scent on my pillow. Outside my window the sun begins to rise, pink-tinged clouds scattering golden rays across the heavens.

*Be safe, my brother.*

*May the Gods speed your journey home to me...*

THE END

Go to the next story in the series: Soul

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Trinity Helix