Disclaimer: Tolkien owns them, not me... though surely he wouldn't mind if I just borrowed them for a little while? Or maybe not...
A/N: Apologies to all those awaiting more Elrond/ Glorfindel, this bunny bit me and wouldn't let go :) This part is now beta'd. SLASH follows folks, if it's not your thing hit the back button now. Feedback much appreciated. Flames will be thoroughly ridiculed.
He was drifting, somewhere, surrounded by blackness. Faramir wondered briefly if he was dead and if this was what it felt like. Just floating in this still darkness for eternity. He didn't think he was dead... if only he could remember how he'd ended up here.
As he struggled to recall what had happened to him, Faramir noticed his surroundings changing. It seemed to be becoming steadily lighter. As he tried to search for the source of the glow, a bright light appeared up in front of him, gradually moving closer. Suddenly, the brightness was all around him, blinding him with its brilliance.
As his eyes became accustomed to this brightness, Faramir slowly became aware of another's presence within it. He stared at the figure as it moved closer, a desperate hope forming in his breast. Could he actually be dead? Might this be his brother? Might they be reunited here?
"Boromir?" he asked tentatively, as the figure moved closer. A couple more steps, a couple more moments for his eyes to adjust and then he could be certain.
And then his companion spoke and he was certain. "Yes, brother," Boromir replied, but his tone was edged with sadness. Faramir had reached out to touch him, wanting reassurance that he wasn't merely a mirage conjured up by his own desires, but froze at the sound of his words.
Not knowing how else to continue, Faramir simply asked the question that was nearest in his thoughts, "Where are we?"
"You are somewhere you do not belong," his brother answered, the reason for his sadness becoming more evident as he continued. "You must leave this place and return home, beloved."
"What are you talking about? I can't leave, I... I can't lose you again," Faramir said, becoming distraught. He could barely remember how he had come to be here, or where he had come from, but what memories he did have were filled with pain. He shook his head; he wouldn't return to that, especially not if it meant losing his brother once more.
Distantly he remembered his pain, his utter desolation upon learning of his brother's death. At times he cursed his too-accurate dreams, and the vision he had seen of Boromir's funeral boat had seemed as such a one, a truth foretold or already past. Trusting in his vision he had mourned from that moment, but it seemed he had still held some hope that Boromir lived. Now, facing him, Faramir knew without a shadow of a doubt that if he should leave this place he would never gaze upon his brother again.
"You should not be here, Faramir," Boromir continued. "You are still needed by our people. You must return..."
Faramir was barely aware of what he said next, crying out in denial, "I can't. I won't go back. I cannot live without you." Tears welled in his eyes at this thought.
His brother, or maybe just his brother's shade, reached out and stroked his cheek. Without conscious thought, Faramir took a step closer to him, wrapping his arms around his brother, or whatever he was. He felt real enough, solid to the touch; Faramir even thought he could felt his heart beating strong inside his chest, but it might just have been the echo of his own. He held Boromir tightly, never wanting to let go.
"You must go back, beloved," Boromir said tenderly. "As much as I wish it, I cannot keep you here with me."
"Please, Boromir. Don't make me leave," Faramir pleaded, but his brother was already pulling away from his embrace.
"You still have much left to do," Boromir tried to reassure him as his spirit began to fade. "Hold on, Faramir, hold on to life, for you still have much to live for..."
"No," Faramir said. "Without you I have nothing left to live for." Boromir just shook his head sadly, as Faramir tried to reach out to him, tried to go to him, and he became increasingly distant. The light seemed to fade away, but Faramir was unsure if it was he, or the light, that was moving. "Boromir..." he called frantically, one last time, before the image of his brother was engulfed by the darkness.
From childhood the brothers had loved each other, having no one else. Their father, Denethor, was preoccupied with the concerns of Gondor and its people and had had little time for his sons, especially as their mere presence was a painful reminder of his beloved wife who'd died so tragically and so young.
Left to their own devices, more often than not, the two brothers spent every free moment together. Boromir had always been protective of his younger brother and, when Faramir was old enough, it was therefore Boromir who taught him swordsmanship and other fighting skills, despite Faramir's preference for lore and music.
And it was finally to Boromir that Faramir had confessed, on the day of his coming of age, that his interest lay not in women, but that he preferred, as he knew his brother did too, the company of men. It had seemed only natural that Boromir should have offered to teach his younger brother of the ways of the flesh, though neither admitted until later the depths of their feelings.
Now, hanging in that void, waiting and hoping for death to claim him, Faramir remembered the first time they'd truly made love, reliving his memories of his brother's love, and longing for their final reunion.
TBC