Work Text:
“Remember today, little brother.” Boromir’s voice cut through the celebrations of their men. His hand gripped his saddle as he hauled himself up onto his horse. Something sad flickered across his eyes as he gave a final nod before galloping away.
Faramir leaned against the wall, his ale still overflowing from his cup and dripping all over his hand and the ground. In the distance, somewhere he doesn’t quite know, he could hear his father bragging about his brother’s victory. About how the future of Gondor will be safe under his son’s rule.
Nothing about how there were hundreds of men dead to take the city back. Nothing about how Faramir fought alongside his brother and those very same men.
Nothing at all.
After that, time moved faster than he could have thought possible. Hours turned into days. Days turned into weeks. And weeks very quickly turned into months. All with just one blink.
All the while he was helping rebuild.
There was no news of Boromir in that time. Not one person seemed to know where he was or what he was doing throughout his various travels.
Eager for a break, after months and months of pouring himself into worry and construction and planning, he decided to take a ride near the small forest next to the river Anduin. He needed some time for himself. Just to clear his head and prepare for the visit from his father to check on their progress.
Sun weaved through the trees and its rays bounced off of the rippling river. He was so engrossed with the sight, that he did not notice the crunch under his horse’s hoof at first.
Heart stuttering in his chest, he got down quickly, if orcs had been this close to Osgiliath…
In the mud and muck of the riverbank, a spot of silver and possibly maybe copper shined through. Almost too intricate for Orcs. It almost reminded him of-
No…
No!
As his hand revealed the rest of the mystery, the cleanly split horn of Gondor came into view. Boromir’s horn.
Faramir looked up, eyes searching the riverbank as his hair fell into his face. His brother wouldn’t go anywhere without this. Especially not while going on the secretive quest that their father put him on.
And there, several meters away, a small boat lay floating listlessly with the current.
Before he could think, Faramir runs into the river, leaving his horse and his supplies behind as what’s left of the horn is clutched tightly in his hand. “No…” He muttered with a shaky breath, not wanting to believe what his eyes had discovered.
“Don’t do this, please…” He pleads as he gets closer and closer. “Boromir, please. Don’t leave me here. Not with him.”
His pleas fell silent as the contents of the small boat came into view. He nearly fell to his knees at the sight.
Boromir, his brother, was laid across the benches with great care. His sword was tucked into his still hands. Several punctures could be seen in the light armor and clothing he was wearing. The holes were rimmed widely with blood.
Tears stung at his face, the droplets feeling as if they were carving all the way down to the bone.
He couldn’t make himself move, only watching as his brother continued forward. It was nightfall before he could make himself move again.
Faramir took off into the forest, having set up camp with no intention of returning to Osgiliath anytime soon. He barely ate. He barely slept.
How did his brother die? Who killed him? Who took the care to give him a burial such as the one he received? When did he die? Where did he die? These questions float through his thoughts in quick flashes, never settling on one for very long before it jumps to another.
Faramir hasn’t a clue how long he was at this camp before riders were sent searching for him. The shouting of his name in the distance should have been enough to make him run, but he couldn’t pull himself up from the log he was perched on.
He hasn’t felt this… this consumed by grief since his mother died. Boromir had been there for him then, since their father was too busy locking himself away and leaving his children in the care of attendants.
Who was going to be there for him now? This would consume his father, as it is consuming him currently.
“He’s here! I’ve found him!” A voice shouts as boots land with a dull thud next to him. “You gave us a right scare. Where have you been?”
He brings himself to look up through the curtain of his hair, a man that he vaguely recognizes from the battle some months ago crouches in front of him searching for any sign of injury.
“Captain? Are you alright?” The man asks again, worried eyes boring a hole into him. “Have you been hurt?”
Faramir shakes his head mutely, allowing one of his hands to fall limp in his lap. The two halves of the horn of Gondor are revealed to the young soldier in front of him.
A fresh wave of grief washes over the landscape. Another soldier, one that he does not recognize, starts to put out the fire he just started. The shoddy shelter that he had made out of a blanket and a piece of rope was quickly torn down.
“We need to get going.” The soldier says to the one that crouches in front of Faramir. “His father will be expecting us by morning.”
“H-how long has it been?” Faramir chokes out, voice cracking with disuse.
The soldier in front of him looks towards him once again. “What was that?”
“How… How long…”
“You rode out nearly a week and a half ago. We feared that you were dead.”
“My- my father… does he?”
“He knows, yes. He has been waiting in Osgiliath for your return.”
He knows.
He has been waiting for your return.
He’s been waiting.
The reveal of that news causes his stomach to churn, and he barely has enough time to move before the meager meal that he had eaten that day forces itself up his throat. He has just enough awareness to see the expression on the soldier’s face as he watches him with bewilderment.
His chest heaves as he spits bile at his feet.
He can’t breathe.
He can’t breathe.
No. Oh, no.
Not here.
Not in front of the men that he is supposed to lead.
“Your brother never acted like this.” His father’s voice echoed in his head. “Not even when he was a babe.”
The words only make his lungs constrict even more. He wheezes, a hand grasping the soldier’s shoulder to keep himself upright. The young man appears to be speaking, but Faramir can’t hear him over the ringing in his ears.
His chest quakes as he makes another pathetic attempt to pull in air.
Boromir would know what to do, he thinks. He always did when he would fall under these spells of panic.
And that thought makes him cry even harder.
“What do we do?” The soldier in front of him asks his companion, making sure not to relinquish his hold on Faramir. “We can’t get him back to Osgiliath like this.”
“You need to get him to breathe properly.” The other soldier replies as he walks over. “My father used to have attacks like these when I was young.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Talk to him calmly. Nothing too fast. Almost as if you were talking to your child.”
“A child? But he’s a grown man!”
The other soldier scoffs. “Your years don’t matter when panic grips you like this. All it takes is one little thing to set it off and-” He snaps his fingers. “It’s like you’re hiding behind your mother’s dress once more.”
Faramir watches as the soldier in front of him takes a deep breath and turns his attention back towards him. “We’re going to try to take some deep breaths okay, captain?”
He nods shakily, trying his damndest to slow his breathing. He tries to remember what Boromir taught him.
“Gather your breath. Whatever you can muster.” Faramir looks up at the voice, eyes wide. And there, just behind a tree several feet away, stood his brother.
“You remember how to do this. Gather your breath.” Boromir instructs again.
His lungs burn even more as he stops breathing altogether.
“Good.” Boromir smiles encouragingly. “Very good. Now let it out. Slowly.”
His chest shakes once more as he lets out his breath.
“Good.” His brother repeats. “Now do it again.”
And so he does.
“Again.”
“Again. Gather your breath.”
“Just breathe. You will be alright.”
“Boromir…” He whispers, watching the figure in the distance.
“Keep breathing. You’ll be just fine.”
Faramir feels more tears streaking their way down his cheeks as the figure starts to fade. “Please… Don’t go.”
“We will see each other again, brother. That I can promise you.” Boromir says as he steps forward. “It may not be in this lifetime. But we will be reunited.”
With one more blink, his brother was gone. And his voice was replaced by that of the two soldiers.
“He’s coming around.” The once in front of him says, relief dripping from his tone.
“He’ll ride back with me.” The other one responds, as he gently tries to take Boromir’s horn from Faramir’s trembling hands. He quickly relinquishes the effort when Faramir’s grip only tightens. “I do not trust his strength to uphold if he rides on his own.”
The soldier nods as they both stand, with one holding their hand out to help Faramir up.
He takes it gratefully, trying hard to keep his legs steady beneath him. He doesn’t speak as he is helped up onto a horse that is not his own.
In fact, he doesn’t speak the entire ride back, the thought of his father waiting for his return looming over him.
“We will see each other again, brother.”
Faramir will just have to believe that. Because he doesn’t have faith in much else at the moment.
“It may not be in this lifetime. But we will be reunited.”
