Boromir felt an arm around his waist that prevented him from going after Faramir. His gray eyes blazed with fire and he stared accusingly at Elrond. “Why did you lie?”
Elrond’s spine went rigid and his nostrils flared for a moment. Then he relaxed, willing the anger to flow from his body. There was no need to fight pain with anger and he understood the emotions running through both the men. “I have spoken nothing that was not true, Lord Boromir. Finduilas could not compete with Gondor for your father’s affections. You heard the identity of Faramir’s mother from his own lips. I cannot say why your father, the Steward, did not see fit to tell you of your brother, nor will I second guess him now. I did not wish to interfere with his decisions, but after Lord Erestor told me what he’d seen in the bathing house, I decided it might be best if you knew the truth before your relationship went even further. Even among elves, there is a taboo against the bond of siblings.”
Boromir swallowed. His throat ached with unshed tears and he had to blink to see clearly. The flames of the candles blurred and he lowered his head so that he would not shame himself in front of the lord. “We did not know.”
“I know, son of Denethor. The fault does not lie with you or with Faramir, but rather with circumstance. Or, perhaps fate holds the answer. I do not know, nor will I even pretend to. However,” he continued after a slight pause, “You should be grateful that you were at least brought together and given a chance to discover the brother you did not know existed.”
“How am I supposed to be thankful for that?” Boromir whispered in a voice thick with tears of frustration and shame. “I felt something between us and I thought it was mutual attraction, now I see that it was the call of blood to blood. But, look at us. We have been together in ways that were not brotherly.” And I find myself not regretting what happened, he thought to himself, but did not say aloud.
Elrond placed a gentle hand on Boromir’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “I do not know what advice I can offer you. Perhaps there is none at all.”
“What if I should throw out rules and caution?” Boromir lifted his head defiantly. “What if I chose to ignore all I have been told this eve?”
Eyes widened with surprise and alarm. What if, indeed, thought Elrond. “The laws of both men and elves are plain in this matter. If you chose to ignore that Faramir is your brother, then you must be prepared to take the consequences.”
Boromir stepped away from Elrond and glared at him with his brows drawn close. “And what will the elves do with the knowledge they have discovered? Will you meddle in affairs not of your concern?”
Folding his arms placidly in front of him, Elrond stared coolly at Boromir for a moment. He read the pride and stubbornness that was Boromir’s trademark and knew that Denethor’s own pride and stubbornness were reflected there. In Faramir, he sensed, was the gentleness of Finduilas. “The problem is out of the hands of the elves, Lord Boromir, though I would advise caution, for if you were caught the elves would take great pains in removing your taint from their realm.”
“I understand, Lord Elrond,” Boromir turned towards the door. “I will give you no cause to escort me or my—or Captain Faramir from Rivendell.” He opened the door and, turning, gave Elrond a slight bow before leaving.
The door closed and Elrond placed his fingertips to his head. What a cruel twist of fate it was that had brought the brothers together thusly. He mentally cursed Denethor and his arrogance.
*~*
Faramir rushed from the room and barely made it through the now deserted dining hall to the gardens before the contents of his stomach spewed from his mouth. He held tight to a railing and gagged and choked. His legs shook so that he could barely stand and tears streamed unheeded down his cheeks and wet his beard. There seemed to be a hole in his chest that left behind a terrible pain.
Warm hands caressed his back and a cool, damp cloth brushed his face and Faramir looked up with a mixture of fear and hope. Lord Erestor stood at his side. Faramir accepted the cloth with shaking hands and glanced down at his ruined clothes and then further along, to the splattered bushes and statuary. “I am sorry,” his voice was made gravelly and he tried to clear it.
“There is no need to apologize for your illness,” Erestor said gently. He could forgive the gentle man just about anything. He’d been immediately taken in by Faramir’s humility and gentleness, traits far different from his elder brother. “Neither you or your brother knew the truth. In fact, none would have known, save that you look so much like your mother. Come, sit down and let me get you something to settle your stomach.”
Faramir allowed himself to be led to a bench and he coughed into the cloth as he sat down. His nose crinkled at the smell of his own vomit. He could not imagine how it was that elf managed to stay in his presence. He felt filthy, and not just from his own sickness, but from what he and Boromir had shared. He stared around the garden while Erestor was gone and realized the moon was higher than it had been when he’d first joined Lord Elrond in the library. Yet, as he looked up at the velvet canopy, he saw the same stars he’d seen all his life twinkling coldly in the sky. The moon had not fallen from the sky and the air was heavy with the sent of night blooming flowers, proof the world continued on, despite his crimes. Despite the loss of his heart and, more importantly, what little remained of his innocence. Never again would he be the same and he knew that he would bear a scar, one that only he knew existed.
Erestor settled down quietly beside Faramir and held out a brimming cup. “Drink this. You will feel better.”
Faramir automatically accepted the gold goblet and sipped the contents. The wine was cool and flavored strangely. He detected the subtle taste of medicinal herbs. In moments, his stomach stopped churning and the foul taste in his mouth was washed away. “Thank you, Lord Erestor.” He lowered the cup and held it loosely between his knees and stared down at his feet for a moment. “Do you think Boromir and me foul?”
Erestor frowned and chose his words carefully. “I do not know what I feel, for I know that you are both innocent of any wrongdoing. Moreover, I doubt that you would be the first siblings since the world began to share such intimacies. At the same time, our laws forbid such a union—as do yours.”
Faramir smiled grimly. Erestor’s speech was a delightful evasion. “In some places, such a ‘union’ as you call it would result in death. But, as Boromir and I are males, rather than male and female?” He shrugged. “I cannot say what would be done if this were ever found out. Would Lord Elrond?”
Erestor held up his hand. “Nay, fear not, Captain Faramir. None but Lord Elrond and I know of what happened and neither of us would say anything, for it is not our place. Though I would advise you to use caution. Many would be offended.”
“Yet, if none know of our relationship, then none can be offended.”
“That, too, is true. I would suggest you both forget it ever happened,” Erestor said rather severely.
“And have elves the magic to erase memories from men’s minds?”
“Nay, we do not,” Erestor admitted. “Nor do we have a cure for broken hearts and sundered souls. Perhaps I should have said that you put it from your mind and concentrate on the matter that has brought you to Imladris.”
Faramir nodded. “I will speak before Lord Elrond tomorrow and then we shall see.”
“Would you like me to escort you back to your room or do you feel like facing the merrymaking in the Hall of Fire?”
“I would rather go to the bathing house and wash this filth from me.” He rose and handed Erestor the empty cup. “I can find my way, now. Thank you, my lord, for your company.”
Erestor inclined his head and watched as the quiet, somber man retraced his steps. What would come of them, he wondered with a heavy heart. Would they break tradition and commit themselves to continue with their relationship or would they put it behind them? He could not see into the future, nor was he sorry.
*~*
Faramir went to the bathing house and quickly stripped off his soiled clothing and boots. He climbed into the water and scrubbed his body briskly, as though the action alone might also erase the time spent with Boromir. He did not dally over his task and was soon pink and shining from his bath. He climbed from the tub and toweled off, wondering what he was going to do for clothing. He’d only brought one extra change of clothes and those were now soiled beyond repair. The clothes he’d worn had been sent to the elves for cleaning and would probably not be back before morning. With a heavy sigh, he stared at his dirty clothes. He lifted his tunic off the floor and shook it carefully.
“Faramir,” Boromir stood framed in the doorway for a brief moment before entering fully. He frowned as Faramir turned pale and stepped back. He unclasped his cloak that he’d retrieved from his room and held it out to his brother. His mind mentally stumbled over the word. “Here.”
Taking the cloak, Faramir wrapped it around his body and tried not to breath deeply of Boromir’s scent. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he mind raced like a mouse trapped in a room with a cat.
“I came to apologize,” said Boromir at last, when he saw that Faramir would not speak.
“It is I who should apologize,” said Faramir quietly. “I teased you and encouraged your favors. I see now that I have erred.”
Boromir’s frown deepened as he realized that Faramir would take all the blame for an action that, in truth, had no blame. “Do not torture yourself, Captain. What happened between us is, I am told, no one’s fault. We have no reason to feel guilty, for we did not know of our kinship.”
Faramir stared down at his feet for a quiet moment, still struggling with his emotions. If there was no blame, then why did his chest feel so hollow? If what he felt for Boromir was a natural brotherly love, then why did his loins still stir at the sight of him? “What will you say to your father when you return to Gondor?”
Boromir shrugged and looked uncomfortable. “I will say nothing. I do not know why he did not see fit to tell me of you, but I cannot see how his knowing that I have met you can change anything at this date. Gondor is on the verge of war and more, I think. Much there is that plagues him. I will not add this burden.”
“And what of you? Will you remember, sometimes, that you have a brother living in Dol Amroth?” Faramir’s words were spoken so quietly that Boromir had to struggle to hear them.
“Nay,” he said. “I have no brother.”
Faramir’s eyes closed as if her were in pain. He nodded slowly and edged towards the door. “I have an early meeting with Lord Elrond and then, I think, I shall depart Rivendell and return with whatever answer he gives to my uncle in Dol Amroth.”
Boromir’s hand shot out and prevented Faramir from making good his escape. “Faramir. Do you hate me?”
Faramir lifted his eyes. “Nay, Boromir, how could I hate you? You are my brother.”
“I have no brother,” said Boromir, more harshly than before. “I acknowledge no brother, Faramir of Dol Amroth. Do you understand?”
Faramir blinked and stared deeply into Boromir’s eyes. Realization dawned on him slowly and he shook his head. “You heard Lord Elrond—“
“I heard Lord Elrond ask you if you were related to Prince Imrahil, a fact that you admitted. I barely remember my mother for she left when I was young and died shortly after leaving Gondor. My father, Denethor, has never made mention of a younger sibling. I surely would have remembered the birth of a sibling, wouldn’t you think? And surely, if I had brother, my father would not allow him to be raised in Prince Imrahil’s court ignorant of his heritage.”
Faramir only gaped for a moment before turning and fleeing from the chamber. Behind him, he could hear Boromir curse, but he did not care and he dared not stop. If he allowed it, he would succumb to Boromir’s unspoken offer and they would be damned by men, and elves, and every other living thing in Middle Earth. He could not allow such a thing to happen to the one who would one day rule Gondor. Hastily, he dumped Boromir’s cloak over the balcony railing before slipping into his own chamber. He closed the door tightly behind him and drew the curtains. He gathered his possessions and threw them into the saddlebags and sat down on the bed, wondering if exhaustion would claim him or if he would toss and turn all night. His head lifted as he heard footsteps on the balcony and he froze. Boromir’s tread was unmistakable amongst the lighter footfalls of the elves.
There was a shadow at his window and Faramir’s heartbeat rapidly. Part of him wanted Boromir to pound on the door and the other part of him, the frightened part, wanted him to just quietly leave. Apparently, Boromir listened to the quiet side of Faramir for after gently trying the door, he gathered his cloak and moved away towards his own room.
A soft knock on the door at dawn admitted an elf bearing his travel clothes along with the promise that his formal clothes would be returned later in the day. Faramir thanked the elf and sent him on is way. He’d given up on sleep and did not feel the need to lie in bed pretending and so he was ready to go, as soon as he was able to speak with Lord Elrond about the terrible dreams.
He took his pack and headed outside his rooms.
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