AUTHOR: Kassandra
DISCLAIMER: All belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm just borrowing them to do things with them he surely wouldn't have approved of. Sorry.
RATING: PG-13, if the idea of incest (not explictit, though) disturbs you, read no further
SUMMARY: A little snippet about the most dyfunctional family in Gondor.
CONTENT: Faramir / Boromir
NOTES: Mild tones of incest between the two brothers.
FEEDBACK: Will make my day.

Beyond

"Faramir!"

I register everyone of his reactions clearly, as if it all happens in a slow and sensual dream. First he stiffens in the middle of stroking the horse next to him, then he whirls around, and when what he sees confirms his expectation of who it is that has called his name he grins broadly and starts to run towards me with open arms. His body moves with the subtle grace of an experienced warrior and his long hair flies wildly around his face - and I do not think that aught has ever looked more beautiful to me.

"Boromir", he whispers into my neck when he has enfolded me in a strong and tight embrace. "Boromir, I missed you..."

When his warm breath grazes my ear and his soft voice penetrates my heart with the loneliness it carries I pull him even closer until every inch of his body is pressed against every inch of mine. "I know", I murmur soothingly, "I missed you, too. I just came back from Cair Andros, but I wanted to see you first..."

He flinches almost unnoticeably and draws back. When he has moved an arm's length away from me, he remarks soberly, "Father will be expecting you." He casts his eyes down, but not before I have seen the sudden shadow in them. I am anxious what Denethor has done this time to wound his youngest son's feelings.

"Father can wait a little longer, my brother", I reply, giving my answer an air of cheery indifference that I do not feel. When Faramir looks up at me again, I get lost in studying the familiar face for a moment. The delicately shaped lips form a reluctant smile at my words, and something tugs at my heart at the sight of it. The skin around his cool blue eyes crinkles with sudden mirth, and I wonder how long I have been gone to miss life engraving itself into his features like that. I swallow and say, "Will you not tell me how you fared these past months?"

He laughs, somewhat self-consciously. "I certainly will, but tell me first why you stare at me so strangely. Have I changed this much to your eyes?"

Ah, my ever perceptive little brother! Is there aught I could try and hide from him? Is there aught I wish to hide? I feel my cheeks go warm with that last thought, for there is indeed a thing I do not wish Faramir to know. A thing he must not know, lest all that has ever been between us crumble to dust.

I become aware that he watches me attentively, and that he knows me well enough to suspect that something is the matter. He opens his mouth to speak, but I catch myself and put a hand onto his shoulder to push him gently into the direction of the Citadel. I wish to reach another place so as to enjoy my brother's long missed company with all due ease and privacy. As I walk under the late spring sun in my travelling clothes I realise that it would probably be better if I took the time to refresh myself first. But then I want naught more than to be at peace with Faramir at least for a little while before I will be ripped apart again between our father's demands and my own personal hell. A hell I have carefully and wholeheartedly constructed since the day I realised the true nature of my feelings for my brother. A hell - a prison for my unseemly longing and my fell desire and... my love.

"You seem distracted", Faramir's mild voice cuts into my thoughts. He draws closer while we start walking, so that my arm slips fully around his shoulders. It reminds me of a long time ago, when father caught us strolling through the city like that. I was scolded for it immediately, but Faramir's punishment I only beheld a few hours later, when he limped along the paths of the Citadel with a bright angry weal on one of his cheekbones. Father never did bother taking off his rings before striking his second-born.

"Do not worry, Faramir, I merely need to come to Minas Tirith entirely. I fear my mind is still back in Cair Andros with the troops." The lie slips like honey from my treacherous lips.

"You must tell me all about it, brother, but first I wish to learn what truly troubles you. It is not father, is it? You know that he will be proud of you whatever your deeds..." He smiles impishly at me from the side. "Although I am quite certain that you performed excellently as always."

I raise my hand from his shoulder to tousle his hair, the big brother's prerogative, and scowl good-naturedly, "You are making fun of me!"

"And you love me for it, do you not?" he shoots back, giving me a playful blow to my side.

I stiffen and let my hand fall. "Certainly. Now honestly - I am widely untroubled except for the usual things. The politics you will hear soon enough, should father decide to summon you to his Council tomorrow. Of which I am sure, since my news also concern Ithilien and therefore your command." He catches my eyes, and I strive to make my expression appear as genuine as possible. I hate lying, and I hate lying to Faramir even more. This way I only double my betrayal, for he must not know what I feel, and to guarantee this I need to hide myself from him. Something I have never done before. It is a different kind of pain.

"How long will you stay in Minas Tirith, then?" He disengages from me, as if subconsciously aware of my discomfort. Or it is the growing proximity to father that he fears? "I will only leave for Ithilien next month, and we could spend some time together."

The warm affectionate tone in his voice only worsens my guilty torment. "I do not know what father has planned concerning my whereabouts, but I am certain that I will have at least a week to stay, or probably more. As long as I do not mention that I wish to stay here for you..."

"Then you will not", he simply states just in the moment we enter the area of the Citadel.

Something begins to unravel inside of me, and I become aware that I have been rather homesick for the city of my youth. Minas Tirith is always at her most beautiful at this time of the year, and today is no exception. The buildings gleam white and fair in the bright sun light, and above all the Tower of Ecthelion majestically lifts its height. I am afraid that Faramir is the one of the two of us to appreciate ancient architecture and such, for our mother seems to have planted the love of lore and song into his heart rather than into mine, but still I am awestruck whenever I come back from longer absence and behold this powerful monument to the reign of the House of Stewards.

I wonder absently what Minas Tirith has looked like more than a thousand years ago, when still the descendants of the Númenórean kings ruled Gondor. It seems like such a long time ago, and I am almost about to ask Faramir whether he has seen sketches or maps of it in our library, but then I realise that I would not really ask him for wanting to know the facts, but for wanting to see his eyes light up with the joy of talking about something he loves.

From the corner of my eye I catch the sun reflecting on the silver clasps of the light cloak he wears despite the warmth, but before I can issue a word of warning for my brother, our father Denethor comes walking towards us in a brisk pace, and I am almost sure that I can feel Faramir drawing back into himself to give as little surface as possible to be attacked by cruel and careless words.

But Denethor's attention is focussed squarely on me when he embraces me curtly, more with the appreciation of a teacher for a pupil than that of a father for a son. But I should not complain, for it is at least appreciation and not the cold contempt that usually meets my brother. A few awkward moments pass while I strive for something to say to ease the tension, for I feel that Denethor is in a dark mood.

"It is good to be back, father", I finally say flatly , "as always. Will you receive me this evening so that I can inform you of-"

"I would talk to you right now, that is-" and here his piercing regard shifts from me to Faramir, "if you are quite done with dallying with your brother."

The tone of his voice is biting, and although I am used to it since my early childhood it still makes me flinch. My eyes dart over to Faramir, but his stare is cool blue opacity. Merely his clenched jaw gives away what he feels inside.

I realise that my father's heavy gaze rests expectantly on me, and I say, trying to sound as appeasing as possible, "I was merely-"

He cuts me short once again. "Spare me your explanations, Boromir, and do not try to protect your good-for-nothing of a brother. For one thing-" But in that instant he pauses, narrows his eyes at me and raises his chin. His look is so unsettling and somehow filled with a dark suspicion that I feel compelled to say something, anything, just to distract him from his unnerving appraisal of my person. But then he suddenly turns on his heel and stalks away. A few moments later he waves his hand, motioning for me to follow him.

I take a deep shaky breath, and when I exhale at least a little of the tension drains away. I turn my head to Faramir and when he looks at me with his eyes so cold and blue like the depth of the river Anduin, it is almost more than I can bear. I betray him. Every time I let our father wear him down in front of me without speaking up to his defence I betray him. For decades it has been the same game now, and with father's terribly obvious depreciation of Faramir, his approval of me turns to ash in my mouth. The Valar know I would trade all words of praise and love Denethor spares me to have him graze my brother but once with a gentle look from his unforgiving eyes. Some token of the affection he must feel for his younger son.

Faramir's gaze however holds nothing but loyalty and love for me. Both of which I do not deserve. Not from him. Not from my little brother. I open my mouth to utter how much I regret what has just taken place, but he just gently nudges me forward, whispering in such a soft voice that only I can hear him, "Go, father expects you. Meet me in my rooms later."

With that he turns away from me, leaving me cold and naked without his presence. The overwhelming love I feel when I watch him go is despicably tainted, and with my head hung shamefully, I follow Denethor. Yes, my betrayal goes even deeper than letting Faramir suffer at the hands of our cruel father and doing nothing. So much deeper. And he will never... can never know.

May the Valar forgive me.

The End