A/N and Disclaimer: Ok, no doubt I am going to get flamed for my initial characterization of Boromir, but I keep going back to the scene in TT:EE at Osgiliath. That is not a man who is doom and gloom 24-7. So having said that, this is obviously Movieverse. There will be an OFC. So basically if any of that tweaks your buttons, now is the time to reach for the back button. If not, read on my friends and I hope you enjoy. Oh yeah I don't own any of the characters except Durfalath and the twins Aynesa and Eyresa.
A high-pitched giggle issued from beneath the furs on Boromir of Gondor's bed, followed by a huskier deeper laugh.
"Hold still, Aynesa."
Yet another high-pitched giggle issued from beneath the furs, "Nay my lord, I am Aynesa, that is Eyresa."
"Ah, well, yes, so it is. Hold still Ayn-Eyresa. Your stays are caught in my points."
"Well if you had completely disrobed as we asked, you would not be in this predicament," a smug feminine voice whined.
"Peace harpy! Must you bellow like a wounded orc? One's head is a bit tender this morn. And for Bema's sake stop moving!! I just had this made with sea-bleached linen from Dol Amroth. Your father charged me a fortune. Ahh there."
There was much rustling under the covers and out came a tanned broad hand holding the offending garment. It fell to the floor and the hand snaked beneath the covers once again.
"Are you pleased now, wench? Eru's balls it is cold out there. See!"
"Aieee!" shrieked one of the bed's mounds, "Are you mad? How dare you put your ice-cold hand—Ohhh, yes."
Faramir opened the door to his brother's chambers and walked in without invitation. Settling himself on a nearby chair, he cleared his throat. The undulation beneath the furs continued, Faramir cleared his throat louder.
"Oh cease, Annoyance. Either join us or see Cook for some honey for your throat."
Faramir blushed furiously. Ever his brother tried to embarrass him with his, ah, earthier nature, and ever he succeeded. "The cock crows brother—"
"—Not quite yet brother, but soon."
Another womanly giggle melted into a sigh and the blush on Faramir's cheeks spread to his ears.
Faramir tried again, "Our most redoubtable father requires your presence in the Hall of Kings. The Ambassador from Near Harad has arrived."
Curses issued from the bed and furs flew in all directions, uncovering a naked Boromir and two, nearly naked, identically lovely young ladies. Faramir groaned. Twins. These could only be Nimmis of Dol Amroth's daughters. Father was going to be less than pleased. Faramir snorted as soon as the thought formed. Boromir was the golden son. He could bed the virgin daughters of half the court and father would turn a blind eye.
He was called back to the present by a pillow striking his head. He looked up to see an angry, still-naked Boromir.
"Granted, I am not in top form this morn brother, but is snorting really called for?"
Faramir snorted again for he loved his big bear of a brother, who lived and loved as if each day where his last. He, Faramir, did not have that kind of courage.
"Make yourself useful scroat and find my squire," Boromir called on his way to the privy chamber.
Faramir sighed and set out to find Boromir's squire. Most like he would find Durfalath in a similar situation.
However, the gods were smiling on Faramir and Boromir both that day for Duri, as he was affectionately known to the brothers Hurin, remembering his lord's presence was requires for negotiations with the Haradrim that day, had taken himself to bed much earlier than was his want. For his lord he had even forsaken the comfort of feminine companies, or even the singular company. Durfalath groaned. The sacrifices he made for his great golden god.
Faramir sighed in relief to see Duri in the doorway, a suitable set of garment for his lord in hand and a strong concoction known only as Duri's Revenge in a goblet in the other. No man, wizard nor elf knew what was in Duri's Revenge, only that after a moment of feeling that one's insides were being made one's outsides, a whole night's overindulgence was erased. Still it was during that moment one wondered whether the cure was worse than the curse.
Boromir exited the privy, hair newly washed and a linen cloth wrapped around his slim waist. He looked to the young women still lying on the bed as if momentarily confused by who they were and what they were doing there, though they both were quite lovely and scantily--
"Boromir!" Duri and Faramir said in unison.
Boromir clapped his hands to his ears and groaned. Duri pressed the goblet into Boromir's hand and ordered him to drink. Boromir downed the contents in one gulp and roared his displeasure.
"TREASON!! Who dares to poison the Steward's heir?!?!"
Duri ducked from long practice as the heavy goblet was hurled toward his head, clattering on the stone wall directly behind him.
Boromir worked his jaw and smiled. That devil of a headache was gone and now he could begin his day.
A maid, unnoticed, had brought in fruits, cheeses and breads for his break of fast. Boromir munched on an apple while his squire dressed him. Faramir bonelessly draped himself on a nearby chaise, licking sweet butter from his fingertips.
"Faramir, what of these ambassadors of Near Harad?"
Faramir reached for another piece of bread smothered in sweet butter, "What of them?"
Boromir's teeth ground together, "What can you tell me of them?"
Faramir chewed deliberately and swallowed, "Mmmm. Well, they are from Near Harad and they are ambassadors."
"Faramir," Boromir growled warningly.
Faramir chuckled, "You never did study brother. Harad is a land far to the south of our, Gondor's, borders," he began pedantically.
"Oh alright. Harad seeks to negotiate a peace. The war has been one of attrition for them as well. They sue for a peace at least long enough to get one full year's worth of crops harvested and into the bellies of their people."
"And a year to train more troops unmolested," Boromir grunted. "And what says our lord father?"
"The same as his beloved son. He knows it is a ploy to replenish their fighting force, but it will also give Gondor a moment's respite to do the same."
"Does he incline to it or no?"
Under normal circumstances Boromir would have known his father's mind as well as his own, but time spent fortifying Osgiliath meant he was not in Council to hear his father's thoughts on matters of state.
Boromir nodded grimly and sat on the edge of his bed to pull on soft boots.
"Duri, see Aynesa and Eyresa safely and discreetly home." He rose and strode to the door. "Faramir you are with me."
The closed heavily against the jam and Duri turned to the ladies. My but they were beautiful.
"Well ladies, perhaps you should dress and –"
Duri's eyes widened as Aynesa, or was it Eyresa. crawled towards him across the bed. "It is still early my lord," she purred.
A smile curled Duri's lips. The negotiations would last for hours and all Boromir had asked was that he see the women home safely, he had said nothing about when.
"That it is my dear, that it is…"