PROLOGUE

When the steward's first son, Boromir, was born, Anira was the midwife who delivered him, and she was there to watch the pleasure of Finduilas at first looking into her newborn's eyes, as well as the pride of the steward on first holding his son and heir triumphantly over his head to present him to the people of Minas Tirith.

And Anira was there when the second son was born five years later. She stood by with tears in her black, ancient eyes when Finduilas drew her last breath, the delivery too much for her frail form and the loss of blood too great. She was there to see the steward brought to his knees by the grief of his wife's death, and she was there to see his hate-filled eyes glaring at his baby son, Faramir, swearing that he would never forgive him for having taken his mother's life.

Anira saw all this, but she saw even more with her mind's eye. She rarely used her gift of foresight, but the deep and binding connection between the two boys was palpable from the moment Boromir entered the room and first laid eyes on his little brother, and the baby ceased to cry and reached out to him.

It was a connection unlike anything Anira had ever seen. So when Denethor, Steward of Gondor, struck her, cursed her for a witch, and told her to get out before he would have her executed for killing his wife, she made a decision.

Her possessions were few, and she was packed and ready to depart the White City within the hour, but before she left, she stole into the nursery, where she knelt by little Boromir's side and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"Anira?" he asked, distressed when he saw her cry. He had never seen his nanny cry before.

"Shh, all is well, Boromir." She smiled through her tears and lifted him into her arms to carry him to the side of Faramir's cradle.

"My brother," Boromir babbled happily, gazing adoringly at the blue-eyed baby in the crib. "Mine." Pride made his cheeks shine.

Anira smiled also. "Yes, Boromir." She held her hand before Boromir's face and touched the pad of her thumb to the centre of his forehead.

The little boy watched with interest as she did the same to Faramir, who held completely still, almost not breathing.

Then, as if by her instruction, Boromir reached down for Faramir's hand, and Anira watched with a smile when the baby grabbed at the short fingers and held on tight. Holding her own hand over their joined ones, she whispered an incantation, and then she separated their fingers gently and set Boromir back on his feet.

She felt perfect contentment settle over her old bones then, because she knew she had done what was right. All else would be decided by those two little hearts, many years on.

"I have to leave you now, Boromir," she said, and tears threatened to spill again when she saw the distress in his face.

"Why?" he asked with trembling lips and green eyes brimming with tears.

She stroked his damp cheek and sighed. "I will tell you one day, Boromir. When you are older. I will tell you then. Take good care of Faramir." And she turned and walked from the room without looking back, even as she heard Boromir call her name over and over, sobbing. She kept walking, her small bag clutched in one hand, the boys' future in the palm of the other.

CHAPTER ONE

"He has returned, Lord Faramir."

Faramir's head snapped up when his tutor told him the news, and it was all he could do to stop himself from yelping out loud in joy. At the age of seventeen, it was no longer seemly for him to behave like a child. "Thank you, Meltirn. I think I will go and meet my brother."

Meltirn - a half-elf who had lived with the steward's family for many years - nodded and left with an unreadable expression on his face; it was certainly not one of surprise.

Faramir's life, while Boromir was on one of his campaigns, was full of pain and loneliness, and empty of anything that might make it worthwhile. But whenever his brother returned, his entire world seemed to fill up again. He had never questioned this, because it had always been that way. He skipped down the grand staircase three steps at once. By the time he reached the wide front doors, they were swinging open and, at first, Faramir was blinded by the sunlight streaming in. A moment later, a familiar shape separated from the brightness and moved towards him.

"Boromir!" he called out and flung himself into his brother's arms.

Laughing, Boromir hugged him back. He could no longer easily lift Faramir off the ground and throw him in the air as he had done when he himself had been a youth and Faramir still a child. But he was still taller and broader, and at least to him, it seemed as if Faramir's slighter frame vanished into his enthusiastic embrace.

"I have missed you, little one," he murmured against Faramir's ear, smiling when the expected, familiar sigh answered him. When he released Faramir, he saw the exact image he would see on each return home: loneliness and anxiety still clung to Faramir's features, but the bright blue eyes were shining, and it was all because of his return, he knew. "I have missed you," he said again, his voice rough with emotion, as he squeezed Faramir's shoulders.

Faramir beamed and punched him playfully in the chest. "I know, you already said so."

Boromir laughed out loud. "Well, I suppose I must have missed you a lot then."

Faramir grew serious. "I have missed you as well, Boromir. More than I can say." He knew not why, but much as their reunions were always alike, his heart thrummed harder in his chest on each occasion. He wondered whether he was perhaps ill, and whether he should ask Boromir about it, but something always stopped him.

"Faramir?" Boromir enquired, aware that his brother had become lost in thought. He gently touched the centre of Faramir's forehead with his thumb as if to smooth out the frown there, but as he touched the spot, an odd sensation came over him, and Faramir stared at him wide-eyed.

"Why did you do that?" Faramir asked in something akin to wonder.

It was Boromir's turn to frown. "I know not." His finger still hovered above Faramir's nose, until eventually, Faramir reached for his hand and pulled it away, smiling oddly.

Boromir felt very strange indeed, but he did not want to worry Faramir. To dispel the awkwardness growing between them, he asked, "How have things been while I was gone?" and immediately regretted the question when Faramir's face darkened.

"Father has been in an ill temper." Faramir sighed.

"When is he not?" Boromir tried to joke, but clearly, the talk of their father had distressed Faramir more than usual. "What has happened, Faramir?"

Faramir shook his head, but then gazed up at Boromir and whispered, "Not here. Let us speak somewhere more private."

Boromir nodded, having all but forgotten the soldiers and attendants crossing the hall behind them at random intervals. They retreated to Boromir's room, where they sat down beside each other on the wide bed.

"Has he been cruel to you again?" Boromir asked, anger underlying his deceptively calm voice.

Faramir shook his head. "I do not know how to answer that. He has ignored me most of the time, which is as I would wish it, to be honest." He looked ashamed at this, so Boromir placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Faramir continued, "And yet, each time our paths have crossed these last few weeks, he has glared at me with a hatred and disgust even I have not seen from him. I know well he hates me..."

Boromir did not deny this, for they both knew it to be true, but his grasp tightened on Faramir's shoulder.

"But his hatred is not usually accompanied by silence, but by reprimands and scolding, so I have become used to it. This silence is..." Faramir sighed. "I do not understand it, but it is harder to bear, and I feel as though at any moment, all his stored up temper shall be unleashed upon me at once. I have been on edge like a frightened child, Boromir." Faramir lowered his eyes, biting his lip.

Boromir now took Faramir's hands between both of his own and held them tight. "You need not feel ashamed, Faramir. I know well what father's ways are, and I can imagine how you must feel. And this is odd behaviour for him indeed."

Faramir nodded, relieved to have shared his anxiety. Even more relieved was he by the warmth flooding into him from Boromir's hands.

"I will speak with him, as soon as he will see me." Boromir smiled, as though everything was now settled and as it should be. "And now tell me what mischief you have been up to while I was away."

"I am no longer an unruly child, Boromir!" Faramir declared in mock outrage. "For that matter, I never was."

"I know." Boromir laughed heartily, and soon, Faramir joined in his mirth, his heart lighter once more.

The opportunity to speak to the steward presented itself earlier than expected, for not an hour after Boromir's return, Meltirn was sent to his room to tell him that his father demanded his presence in the dining hall, and that he was to bring Faramir with him.

They shared a concerned and curious glance before following their orders, and when they arrived in the large hall, their father was already seated at the head of the table.

Denethor's face was grim as ever, and for once, even Boromir's appearance did not change a muscle in his expression. "Sit," he commanded harshly.

The brothers did as ordered, taking their customary seats opposite one another, one on each side of the steward.

After a sideways glare at Faramir, Denethor began to speak in halting tones, and a furious rage was boiling so close to the surface, his words barely made sense at first. Until... "Word has come to me of a prophecy." He snorted at this. "No, not a prophecy. A curse, that is what it is!" He shifted in his chair as though he wanted to be anywhere but there, and for once, both sons could well sympathize.

They exchanged a glance, and neither of them noticed that Denethor nearly shredded the ruffled handkerchief in his fingers as he watched them.

"Father?" Boromir finally asked when the uncomfortable silence became overwhelming.

Denethor now glared at him, and that was most definitely not his custom. "There will be no heir to the stewardship of Gondor," he said as though that should explain all.

Boromir's brows furrowed, and Faramir merely waited in confusion.

"Now that the time has finally come for you to marry," Denethor's voice roared in anger as he glared at Boromir. "To find a wife and have her bear a future ruler..." His face reddened alarmingly. "I learn that there is to be none. No wife. No heir. No future for Gondor!" He rose from his chair, which swayed and clattered with the force of the movement, but did not fall.

Boromir frowned at him. "Father, forgive me, but this does not make sense. What is it you speak of? How can you know this?"

Denethor stared at him, his eyes cold and hard. "It is his fault," he said, thrusting an accusing arm towards Faramir.

Now Boromir grew angry, and he stood also. "When will you cease blaming Faramir for everything that goes wrong in Gondor? And what are you talking of? What is it that he is meant to have done now?"

Faramir barely dared to look at their father, who now glared at him once more.

Denethor snorted. "He lives."

Boromir and Faramir waited - Boromir in a rage, Faramir in trepidation.

Eventually, Denethor continued, "I cast out the midwife who shared his guilt in your mother's death, Boromir."

"You have told me this. But Faramir has no guilt in that, father. How could he? What you say is madness." Boromir's voice was so unusually harsh, it jolted Faramir.

"Is it?" Denethor roared. "I cast her out into the streets, when I should have had her killed."

"Anira." Boromir remembered the old woman's kindness, and something else vaguely tugged at the edge of his mind - something to do with Faramir.

Denethor continued, "She is a witch, and she has cursed me. She has cursed all of Gondor." He inhaled sharply, drawing a parchment from his coat and throwing it before Boromir.

Boromir unrolled it hesitantly. When he thought back on Anira, there was nothing to make him think her evil, and he could not imagine what this paper might hold. But as he read, his eyes widened and his lips parted.

For the eyes of Denethor, Steward of Gondor

Anira, of the Order of Evol

Boromir made an odd sound in the back of his throat. "Why would she..." he began, and then looked up. "Father, have you--"

"Of course I have!" Denethor cried out. "Every wizard and elf who could be found has confirmed the validity of this abomination. I have even sought the aid of other witches, but they all tell me the same: I am powerless. And the cursed crone cannot be found anywhere in the land."

Boromir looked at Faramir, who did not yet know of any of this, and his heart softened at the look of worry and confusion on the gentle features. A familiar warmth, entirely inappropriate considering the news, flushed through Boromir, and he felt, more keenly than ever, that he was closer to Faramir than to anyone else. They had been bound together. Why? Would they not be this close if they had not been? The thought hurt him even while he discarded it as ridiculous. No one could ever mean more to him than Faramir, bond or no bond.

"Why do you stare at him?" Denethor snapped Boromir out of his reverie. He stepped closer and looked at him with a deathly fury. "I for one will not look upon him now. You will tell him of it."

Boromir glared at his father. "He is named Faramir, or have you forgotten?"

"I care nothing for him. I should have killed him together with the witch. You should be as angry as I am, for surely, this is not how you imagined your future?"

Boromir truly could not answer that. It was not anything he would ever have imagined, but at the same time, he had found the thought of marriage to some well-chosen maiden an unpleasant idea, for it would have separated him from Faramir. "I will speak to Faramir now," he murmured.

Denethor grunted. "Do not dally, Boromir." Still avoiding Faramir's eyes, he added acidly, "For his eighteenth birthday is but one month from now." He exited the hall without another word to either of them.

The moment the heavy door fell closed, Faramir rushed to Boromir's side. "In the name of our forbearers, Boromir, what is this curse?" he pleaded.

Boromir gazed at him in silence.

Faramir looked so worried, so helpless. All those weeks while their father had been trying to find a way to break the curse, Faramir had been made to suffer and wait and wonder.

Boromir sighed. "Little brother." He cupped Faramir's cheek tenderly. "It is all set out on this parchment. Do you wish to read it for yourself, or shall I tell you? The blow will be a hard one either way."

"Then tell me," Faramir requested at once. "For I would rather suffer at your hands than any other's."

Boromir flinched at this. "The woman who helped us both into the world - and I have always remembered her as a kind, gentle soul - has cursed the kingdom of Gondor on the day of your birth."

Faramir paled. "Why?"

"I know not," Boromir said truthfully. "I know only that father blamed her for mother's death and exiled her."

"He blamed her as well as me?"

Boromir swallowed. "Yes."

"What is this curse?" Faramir asked anxiously.

Taking a deep breath, Boromir said, "She has bound us together, Faramir. You and me."

For a moment, Faramir looked blankly at him, and then, oddly enough, he smiled. "This is a terrible curse? Then I should like to be cursed every day of my life."

Boromir's lips twitched in a near smile, but he knew well this was not all. "There is more, Faramir. The curse will be fulfilled if this bond is not renewed on the day of your majority."

"Renewed?" Faramir asked. "How is this done?"

Boromir averted his eyes. "I know of only one type of binding between adults, so I cannot be sure."

Faramir grew suspicious. "Boromir?"

His elder brother clasped his shoulders gently. "Faramir, the only kind of binding I know of is... a marriage."

Faramir stared at him in silence at first, then burst into laughter.

Boromir was puzzled. His hands fell away from his brother's shoulders, dislocated by the howls of laughter shaking the lithe form. But there was something inside him that had never been able to resist joining in Faramir's rare, so rare, and beautiful laughter, and even though he knew this was not a laughing matter, he could not help himself, and they tumbled to the rough stone floor together, clutching at each other in helpless and hysterical mirth.

Meltirn, who walked past the dining hall at that moment, stopped to listen and, with a frown on his face, kept walking to the end of the corridor and out through the vast front portal.

CHAPTER TWO

It took Boromir some time to calm Faramir down, but finally, they were kneeling before each other and clutching each other's arms for shared strength. Then the questions truly began.

"Does this mean we are already married?" Faramir asked, his voice too high-pitched to be his own.

Boromir shook his head. "No child can be bound in that way."

"We can marry no other? No maiden?"

Again, Boromir shook his head 'no'.

"And if we did?" Faramir asked.

"Gondor would fall." Boromir expected shock in Faramir's face at the statement, but instead, he thought he saw something like relief. But only for a moment.

"If one of us were to die before we are bound again?"

Boromir was trembling. "I know not what would occur if we fell in battle, but wilful murder would not break the curse. Gondor would still fall."

A wry smile flitted about Faramir's lips. "That would have been father's first recourse." As much as that horrible truth rocked Boromir, Faramir's next question did shake him to the core. "What if one of us died by his own hand?"

"Faramir!" Boromir pulled him into his arms and clutched him tight. "Do not say such a thing. Do not even think it. It would be wilfully taking a life all the same, and more importantly, we are bound too closely already for either of us to survive the other's death. Of that I am certain."

Faramir drew back. "I feel that too."

"Good," Boromir said, almost harshly. He was trembling and pale.

Faramir's eyes lowered. "Forgive me. I did not mean to upset you."

Boromir's sigh flushed the skin of Faramir's temple as he gathered his younger brother into his arms once more, and they held each other like this until all distant steps and murmurs in the palace fell silent, and the hall was plunged into darkness. Only then did they wordlessly rise and retreat to their chambers, parting at Faramir's doors with a pained and confused look.

Boromir did not sleep that night. He had read the parchment another dozen times at least, and it made no more sense to him than it had the first time. Why would Anira have cursed them? Him and Faramir. She had reason to hate their father. Many did. But Faramir had only just been born; had she blamed him for her expulsion? None of this rang true in Boromir's mind, and yet, she had done what she had done. She had taken Faramir's future from him the day he entered the world. She had condemned him to a life without choice, without any hope of having a family.

As he thought this, Boromir's heart clenched painfully. He had always avoided thinking of Faramir's future as something separate from his own; he had hated the thought. He had not wanted to share his brother with anyone. Visions of Faramir wed to a beautiful maiden, with a crowd of little red-golden headed, blue-eyed children surrounding him, had never been something to warm Boromir's heart. He had always felt a helpless hatred towards these vague future figures who would take his place in Faramir's life. In his heart.

Those thoughts had always troubled him, for he knew he had no right to think them. Faramir had every right, however, to have such a life, but instead, he would be bound to his own brother. He would not known any love, any... touch, but Boromir's.

Green eyes closed as Boromir groaned in the darkness of his room.

Faramir's night was sleepless also. For how could he sleep when each time he closed his eyes, he saw his father screaming abuse at him. Each and every bitter word came back to haunt him, suddenly not seeming like the ramblings of a cruel father as much as they did the truth.

He would have given anything to avoid this. Boromir was the pillar his entire being was built upon. He deserved so much more than this. He deserved to have his own family to take care off, rather than to be forced into this with his own brother. He deserved...

Faramir cried silent tears. Boromir deserved all the things he himself had never wanted, though he knew he was supposed to. Boromir was sure to want these things - a wife, children, a life free of a younger brother who clung to him like a vine to a reed.

He was being foolish. Boromir had never minded that, and Faramir knew he would have sensed it if he had. But he could not help but wonder whether Boromir might not feel differently about him without this cursed bond. Would he hate him as father did?

The thought was unworthy. Boromir was nothing like their father. And if Faramir had learned anything from his brother, it was that he was to pay no mind to father's ramblings. But for all that, how could Boromir not begin to hate him now? How could his love not turn to loathing at the thought of only Faramir at his side for the rest of their lives? Of none but Faramir in his arms. In his bed.

Faramir's eyes widened, but there was no one to see this in the dark room. They were brothers. They would be allowed no such comforts in their marriage. His heart was pounding when he turned on his side, hugging his arms around himself. And even as he softly whispered, "Forgive me, Boromir," he began to imagine that the arms around him belonged to his brother.

Boromir stole into Faramir's room on the verge of dawn and stood for a time by the side of his bed. Faramir looked restless, as though he was only now drifting into a fitful sleep. His sheets were an untidy jumble about him, and his face and hair were damp with sweat.

Boromir sat on the edge of the bed, and sensed instantly when Faramir woke.

All movement stilled, and haunted blue eyes opened. "Boromir..."

Faramir was drawn up and into his brother's arms, his sleep warm body half-bare and shivering. "I am so sorry," he cried out.

Boromir frowned and drew back, holding Faramir by his upper arms. "What do you mean?" The skin under his hands was too cool and clammy, and he unconsciously rubbed warmth into it.

"This is my fault. Somehow. Father is right." Faramir shivered again, but it was from the sensation of warm hands on his skin.

Boromir growled involuntarily. "Listen to me, Faramir. He is wrong. You are not at fault in this. You are never at fault. How could any of this be your fault when you were barely able to open your eyes the day the curse was spoken?"

"I do not know," Faramir admitted.

Boromir sighed, his hands now soothingly stroking over Faramir's half clad back. "I would suggest we investigate how to break the curse ourselves, but I imagine if father has not found a way..."

"There is none," Faramir agreed.

Boromir nodded. "He is more horrified by this than either of us could ever be."

Faramir stared at him. "Do you mean that, Boromir?"

Only then did Boromir realize what he had said, and quickly disentangling himself from Faramir's arms and sheets, he moved backwards on the bed. "It is a matter of pride with him," he said, avoiding a direct answer. "He will be embarrassed by this. By having to let his sons be bound together." He looked nervously at Faramir.

"Will they do all they would do were we a man and a woman?" Faramir asked hesitantly.

Boromir shrugged. "I do not know. The Gondorian binding ceremony is very strict. And elaborate."

Faramir blanched at this. "Elaborate?"

Equally uncomfortable, Boromir explained, "I imagine there will be very many guests at the ceremony, if only because we are the sons of the steward."

"Not to mention we are the sons of the steward," Faramir interjected dryly.

For a moment, they both chortled nervously.

"Yes, that also." Boromir looked hard into Faramir's eyes. "Tell me truly, Faramir, can you go through with this?"

"We have no choice, Boromir, you told me so yourself." Faramir fumbled edgily with his sheets.

"We have one choice."

Faramir's head snapped up. "What?"

Boromir stood and began to pace. "We could defy the curse, and what may happen to Gondor, may happen. We can fight and--"

"No, Boromir." Faramir shook his head emphatically.

Boromir knelt by the side of the bed and clutched Faramir's hands. "Listen to me. I would rather see the whole kingdom unhappy than you, little brother. I would take you away from here and hide you. In Rohan, perhaps. Or with the elves even. Somewhere you may be safe."

"No!" Faramir exclaimed, his voice trembling from emotion at Boromir's impassioned words. "No, I will not run. I will not be guilty of the fall of Gondor, nor would I have you be so."

"You will have no family, Faramir."

Faramir suppressed hysterical laughter, but his eyes were serious when he said, "I will have you, Boromir. If you can bear to have only me."

Boromir's grip on his hands tightened. "I can."

"Then we shall do as the curse commands," Faramir concluded, and Boromir nodded his agreement.

CHAPTER THREE

The following weeks passed quickly, and after initial shock all across the kingdom about the curse and subsequent binding of the eldest steward's son, not to mention who he was to be bound to, a subdued celebratory mood began to spread, to Boromir's and Faramir's amusement. Though they mentioned this to no one, not even each other.

Denethor avoided them both when he could, and kept his words with them to a minimum when he could not. Reason be damned, he laid the blame entirely at Faramir's feet, though he thought that Boromir accepted the entire matter too easily. He said so one day when he met his older son in the entrance hall.

Boromir glared at him. "What would you have me do, father? Struggle and frown and glare at all who cross my path, and blame the world?"

Denethor gripped his son's arm hard. "Do you think your troops will still respect you after this? It makes no difference for Faramir, for he has no respect now."

At this, Boromir sneered. "He is your own son, yet you know nothing of him, father. The men love him and will continue to do so. They will not blame him for this, and neither do I."

"You should," Denethor grunted.

Boromir had long since resigned himself to the fact that this curse would sever any friendly ties between his father and himself. After all, his father could expect no heir from either of his sons now.

So he had no misgivings when he said, bluntly, "Then I would not only be a poor brother, but a poor groom indeed." And before Denethor could recover himself, Boromir had left him standing alone and swept through the open doors.

Meltirn had been about to enter with his arms full of books Faramir had requested about the binding customs, and he heard the last of the argument inside. Greeting Boromir politely as the man stalked past him, he paused a moment, a warm smile spreading from his lips to his wise grey eyes. Meltirn continued inside, avoiding the corridor down which Denethor had hurried in anger, and took the books to Faramir's chambers.

The younger of the brothers was lying on his belly upon the bed, and there was no denying the excited look in his eyes when he saw the research materials he had requested.

"Lord Faramir. This is all the librarian could find," Meltirn said, placing the books at the foot of the bed. "Though to be honest, had you paid better attention during your lessons, you would know most of this."

Faramir flushed. His kind tutor had always been a little blunt, but then he was in part an elf. "I have never had any interest in the matter," he muttered quietly, though not quietly enough for Meltirn to miss the words.

The half-elf retreated from the rooms, smiling.

Faramir spent the better part of the day surrounded by the books. Only one week remained, and all he had been able to find so far were songs and incantations, customs and appropriate garments and finery to wear at a binding ceremony.

He did not truly know what he was seeking until he found it, in a small, unassuming red leather book slipped between two larger tomes. When he opened a random page, Faramir read a paragraph and flushed red. He then chose another page, and that was worse. He decided it would be most instructive to start at the beginning, and for the rest of the day, he studied the small volume more intensely than all the other books combined.

He had not assumed that a consummation would be necessary or expected with a binding between two men. Two brothers, no less. But it became clear to him now that without it, the binding would be invalid and the curse therefore not averted.

He laid down the book and absently tugged open the collar of his shirt. He felt too warm, and nervous also. And he could not help but wonder whether Boromir was aware that in a mere week's time, they would have to... His heart pounded so loudly, he could barely think. He almost felt he might be in a fever.

So at first, the knock on the door went unnoticed, but when it became more insistent, Faramir called out, "Enter."

It was Boromir who appeared in the doorway. "Are you well, little brother?" he called out when he saw Faramir's flustered appearance.

"Yes. Certainly." Faramir smiled laboriously. "Is something amiss, Boromir?"

Boromir moved closer, and when he saw the pile of books on Faramir's bed, he picked one up and smiled. "You are reading about binding ceremonies."

Faramir felt caught. "I thought it best not to make more of a fool of myself than absolutely necessary. Father would delight in it."

Boromir's eyes lowered. "Father will not attend the ceremony."

A great flood of relief washed over Faramir. "I see," he muttered.

"I for one am glad of it." Boromir sat down beside Faramir and noticed the small book half hidden behind his brother. "What have you there?" he asked, reaching for it.

"No!" Faramir scrambled away across the bed, clutching the book, but Boromir's arms were longer and his reflexes better, and he had Faramir pinned down in an instant.

Boromir smiled triumphantly, crouching over Faramir in such a way that his brother could not move in any direction. But as he looked at him, he realized how flushed Faramir was, and he even thought he felt him tremble. And one of them must have a fever, for he suddenly grew uncomfortably hot.

Laughing nervously, he drew back and plucked the book from Faramir's hands. "Do you not think it a good idea for me to know all that you know? Remember, little brother, I have not done this before ei--" His eyes widened when he began to read a random page. "Oh. Well, I have done this once or twice." He looked quickly to Faramir. "Though it meant nothing then. But... What I mean is, I have not been bound to anyone." He closed the book and looked at the title, then at Faramir who lay, mortified with shame, before him. To make his brother feel less awkward, he jokingly remarked, "An interesting choice of reading material, Faramir. But what has it to do with..." He paled, then turned red, clearing his throat.

Faramir, beet-red now himself, hurriedly plucked the book from Boromir's hand and opened the first page, showing it to him.

"I see," Boromir eventually said. "I did not know this." He cursed under his breath. "Faramir, forgive me. For embarrassing you. For not knowing any of this was required. I assumed because we are kin..."

"So did I," Faramir admitted.

Boromir gazed at him and saw shame and fear in his eyes. "I can do or say little except that I promise I will not hurt you, Faramir. I will do anything to avoid that."

Faramir nodded. His blood was pounding in his ears. "I know. I simply have never..." He lowered his eyes.

Boromir lifted Faramir's chin gently. "You have never laid with another?"

Faramir shook his head.

"And now it has to be me," Boromir said sadly. "It is not fair to you. In addition to everything else, it is not fair. What can I do to make this easier, if anything?"

Faramir frowned and pointed out, "It is not fair to you either, Boromir." He felt a caress on his cheek, and his eyes held his brother's.

"No," Boromir eventually said, sounding distracted. "Do not be angry with me, Faramir, but..." Boromir bit his lip. "Would it help you in any way to grow more accustomed to my touch - this kind of touch - prior to the ceremony?"

Faramir's heart hammered in his chest. "You mean..."

"No, not that!" Boromir quickly said, whether to reassure Faramir or himself, he did not know. "What if I were to... to kiss you, perhaps?"

"You have kissed me many times, Boromir," Faramir said cautiously, annoyed that his voice came out as a husky whisper.

"As a brother, yes. On the cheek, your forehead, your nose when you were little."

They both smiled bashfully at this, but Faramir understood. "Are you going to kiss me as a lover would?"

"If you allow it," Boromir said, now more steady and determined.

Faramir considered for a moment. "Yes, I do."

Boromir nodded. Awkwardly, he shifted closer, and so did Faramir. Their folded legs upon the mattress were between them, but neither felt comfortable enough to close the distance. Instead, they leaned towards each other until they could feel the other's breath warm on their faces.

Faramir was about to draw back, inhaling to say he had changed his mind, when Boromir's mouth touched his and took the words from him. The rush of warmth through his every vein at the first touch of Boromir's lips took him by surprise, and he swayed forwards.

Boromir caught him, steadied him by his shoulders, but Faramir's loss of balance had separated their mouths momentarily, just long enough for them to gasp and their lips to meet again and with more force.

Faramir heard his own pulse hammering in his ears, and the sound of their moist, warm lips against each other seemed unnaturally loud and... sweet. His lips parted without a conscious thought, and he tasted Boromir, felt his tongue touch his own. Tentatively, he returned the caress, and Boromir groaned - a low, deep rumble he could feel in his own chest. His insides felt on fire. His skin tingled. He curled his tongue against Boromir's once more. Could not believe how sweet his brother tasted, and how tenderly he kissed him even though the hands on his shoulders were gripping him almost painfully tight, drawing him closer yet until Boromir was leaning back against the pillar at the base of his bed, and he was leaning forward over his brother's body, almost in his lap.

And still they were kissing, their lips wet and their breathing erratic, their tongues meeting and parting and meeting again, and Faramir too was groaning, his hands clutching the folds of Boromir's tunic. He could feel the warmth of him through the thin fabric, brushed his knuckles along Boromir's sides, felt Boromir shiver at the almost accidental touch, and he was lost.

Lost. In his own brother's touch. In the feel of solid muscles against him, a thigh hard against his own, steadying him in his precarious position - half kneeling over, half sitting in, Boromir's lap. So hot there, so hard, as he was now, and he groaned once more, because he had made Boromir so, and Boromir him. He felt weak and dizzy and knew he would need to breathe soon, but it was Boromir who finally broke the kiss, though his reluctance to do so was evident in his soft whimper as he pushed Faramir back gently.

They stared at each other, panting. Their eyes were wide and dark - almost the same colour now, and their limbs were hot everywhere they were still touching.

Faramir scrambled backwards a little, fearful of what he might do if he did not.

Boromir continued to stare, a small, embarrassed chuckle bubbling in his chest, which Faramir answered with a coy smile. And for once, neither knew what to say to the other.

Faramir laid his hand on the bedspread between them, and Boromir placed his own over it.

"All will be well," Boromir said, his voice no more than a rasping whisper.

"Yes," Faramir agreed. He turned his hand palm upwards under Boromir's, and their fingers intertwined.

They sat like that for minutes, silently, simply looking at their hands.

Eventually, Boromir extracted his own reluctantly. "I must leave."

"Yes." Faramir's hand felt cold, as if it no longer belonged to him.

When Boromir retreated to the door slowly and without breaking eye contact with his brother, Faramir smiled softly, and after returning the smile, Boromir left.

CHAPTER FOUR

Meltirn entered Faramir's room the following morning to find his student lying across his bed at an uncomfortable looking angle, fully dressed and rumpled, his fingers clutching a piece of his bedspread even in sleep. But most astonishingly, Faramir was smiling. Meltirn laughed softly and prodded the shoulder most accessible to him.

Faramir muttered something unintelligible.

"Lord Faramir. Time to rise." Meltirn prodded harder, and this time, there was a reaction.

Faramir's eyes slowly opened, and he stared at his tutor in confusion.

"My apologies for interrupting a pleasant dream, Lord Faramir."

Faramir blushed, which proved his next words a lie. "I did not dream anything."

"Hmm." Meltirn gazed pointedly at the young man's rumpled clothing. "What is this? No time to change into a nightshirt? Well, no matter. I have run a bath for you, and then we had better be off."

"Off where?" Faramir murmured sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he slowly rose to his feet.

"To have your ceremonial garments fitted, of course." Meltirn's tone was gentle even while his words gave the impression Faramir should have known this all along. And he should have, for Meltirn had announced it to him only the previous day.

"Oh." Faramir lowered his eyes and fidgeted with the small red book he had spotted on the floor beside the bed. He surreptitiously picked it up and laid it on his night table.

Meltirn smiled, well aware of the illicit item's presence, having chosen it quite intentionally. "I will meet you in the courtyard when you have finished your bath, my Lord." And with this, he retreated silently from the room, wondering whether Faramir's distraction would not have him back asleep instead.

But within the hour, the two men were in the rooms of the best tailor in Gondor, and Faramir was being presented with such a variety of choices in the traditional colours for the female - or the younger - of the two participants, it left him quite dizzy. He looked at Meltirn helplessly.

Meltirn laughed. "This is not the first binding ceremony between two males, Lord Faramir, as you can gather from these many options."

Faramir sighed. "So I believe. But I do not know..."

Meltirn cleared his throat. "Might I make a suggestion then?"

"Please." Faramir was relieved, and when presented with his tutor's choice, he nodded his head, smiling. "That will do." And to the tailor, "I suppose there are advantages to elven blood."

The tailor and Meltirn both laughed, and Faramir's garb was set aside for final alterations.

When they left the establishment, Meltirn said, "You will need an attendant at your ceremony."

"Oh yes." Faramir nodded. "Someone to help me to my feet should I faint, or whisper in my ear should I forget the words I am to say."

"Indeed."

"Would you be so kind, Meltirn?" Faramir asked, and was pleasantly surprised at the obvious delight his tutor displayed at the request. "I know Boromir will agree with my choice," he added.

"I would be honoured, Lord Faramir." Meltirn bowed slightly. Then he looked at Faramir searchingly.

"What is it, Meltirn?" Faramir asked, uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

Meltirn looked around to ensure they were not being overheard. "I am aware that neither you nor your brother were given a choice in the matter but, Lord Faramir, are you very unhappy?"

The question was so unexpectedly personal from the usually reserved Meltirn, it quite astonished Faramir. He stared at his tutor for a moment, but eventually, he decided that candidness needed to be repaid in kind. "No, Meltirn. I do not believe I am."

Meltirn averted his face to hide his smile. "I am relieved to hear it."

"But do not dare repeat my words to anyone," Faramir said.

"I will not break your confidence, rest assured." Meltirn bowed again.

Faramir acknowledged his words with a nod, and they returned to the palace shortly after.

Much of the remaining week was spent in study and rehearsal of the customs, though as was usual in Gondor, this was done separately by the participants.

Faramir saw little of his brother during this time, and it pained him. When he mentioned it to Meltirn - who had kept his confidence and was thus worthy of more, as far as Faramir was concerned - he was told that their father had ensured Boromir was kept busy with all manner of duties not relating to the binding. Faramir nodded sadly at this.

So it was a pleasant surprise indeed when two days before the binding, Boromir entered his brother's rooms, clutching a book, just as Meltirn was explaining the various choices of vows available to them.

"Ah, this is why I am here!" Boromir called out, smiling broadly even while he blushed a little at Faramir's returned smile. That day earlier in the week was very fresh in his mind. Very fresh indeed.

Meltirn hid his own smile behind a book he quickly lifted to his face. "Your brother was about to choose a favourite, Lord Boromir," he said. "Have you?"

Boromir stood behind Faramir, who was rapidly flicking through the pages of his book. "I have a favourite, but I wish to know Faramir's selection." He spoke the words softly, and because he was peering over Faramir's shoulder, his breath stirred the curls at Faramir's ear into a hectic flurry.

Faramir coughed nervously, wishing he would find the vow quickly so Boromir might step further away, and yet hoping it would prove elusive so he might stay. Then he saw it. "Here. This one." He laid his finger on the centre of the page and turned his head to look up at Boromir.

Their eyes met. They were very near, and not for the first time, Faramir thought that there was no one with eyes more beautiful and kind than his brother. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and shivered.

Boromir wondered whether Faramir saw himself reflected in his eyes the way he did in Faramir's. "It would be perfect," he whispered.

Faramir smiled. "You have not looked at it."

Boromir blinked a few times. "Forgive me, Faramir." He looked down at the vow Faramir was pointing out, and laughed softly.

"Boromir?"

He raised the book he himself had brought in, and showed Faramir the page where he had been holding it open.

"You chose the same vow." Faramir's voice was infinitely soft, and he gazed back up.

Boromir was smiling.

They had both entirely forgotten Meltirn was even in the room, until the tutor coughed delicately into his hand. "Your pardon, my Lords. I should remind you both that you will not be allowed to meet tomorrow and the day after until the ceremony. So if you do not mind, we should finalize the arrangements now?"

Boromir and Faramir stared at him.

Meltirn looked amused. "Lord Denethor has arranged for the ceremony to be held at Osgiliath. Were you aware of this, Lord Boromir?"

Boromir's brow creased in annoyance. "No, but it is no great surprise. I assume he does not want to tarnish his precious Minas Tirith."

Shifting uncomfortably, Meltirn nodded. "Quite so."

Faramir's head was hung low.

Boromir noticed this and ruffled his hair affectionately in a way that was reminiscent of their past childlike interactions. "Do not even think on it, Faramir. Let us be glad that we will not have to see his sneering face."

"Yes, you are right," Faramir agreed. And to Meltirn, he said, "When will the ceremony be held?"

"At twilight. It is meant to be a good time for great changes and new beginnings." Meltirn reached across the table for Faramir's book; he looked at the vow both brothers had chosen and smiled.

Boromir stood by Faramir's chair for another moment, then gave Meltirn a meaningful look above Faramir's head, and the tutor nodded.

"I shall pass word to the celebrant as to your selection. If you will excuse me." Meltirn rose, bowed, and left the room.

Boromir leaned against the table in front of Faramir and looked down at him. "Are you well, little brother?"

Faramir nodded, smiling slightly. "Nervous, to be honest." Boromir took his hands from atop the table and held them tight, and Faramir smiled. "Do not worry for me."

Returning the smile, Boromir raised his hands a little higher yet, forcing Faramir to rise from his chair. Once they stood before one another, he freed one hand to tuck the curls he had disarrayed earlier behind his brother's ear.

Faramir inhaled sharply, fearful and anticipatory and excited all at once at the thought that Boromir might be about to kiss him again. He knew only that he was disappointed when he did not.

"Until the day after tomorrow then," Boromir said softly, stepping backwards as though desperately needing the distance.

Faramir nodded. "Until then, Boromir."

And Boromir walked to the door, where he turned and looked back. Their eyes met across the room and a million unspoken thoughts suddenly seemed to hang in the air between them. And neither of them knew how to voice them, so they both chose silence instead.

When the door closed, it was on their past, their childhood, their years as brothers.

When the sun rose above Gondor the second day after their parting, a new door opened.

Faramir was woken by some commotion on the balcony outside, but when he sat up in his bed, there was nothing unusual to be seen, except for the curtains being wide open and fluttering in the morning breeze, though he knew the doors had been closed against the night chill.

And then he saw a small package on the floor in front of the balcony door, and with a smile, jumped up and hurried to pick it up. >The blue velvet box was tied with white ribbons, and there was a small piece of parchment slipped underneath one of them. Faramir unrolled it and read it breathlessly.

As I am not allowed to see you until late, I had to choose this way to give you your birthday present. So happy birthday, little brother. I would be delighted to see you wear my gift at our binding.

All my love,
Boromir

Faramir tucked the parchment into the pocket of his nightshirt and fumbled with the ribbons expectantly. When he finally removed the lid from the small box, he gasped. Inside lay a simple gold ring with bands of silver winding all around it like bindings. And as he was about to slip it on his finger, he saw there were engravings on the inside. His heart pounded when he read the inscription - the names of Boromir and Faramir, and the date.

CHAPTER FIVE

Faramir was taken to Osgiliath's main citadel, where Meltirn and two elves would be fussing over his garments for the next hour. The result, however, was well worth the effort. Or so Faramir was led to believe by Meltirn's wide-eyed gaze and the giggling, blushing elf maidens who could not take their eyes off him. He was mortified with embarrassment.

Meltirn coughed lightly as if to shake himself out of his adoration. "You look ravishing, Lord Faramir, if I may say so." This amused the girls even more, and the half-elf quickly said, "Well then. I think it is time. Shall we?"

Faramir's heart began to pound and nausea settled in his stomach, but there was nothing for it. He knew well enough what the proceedings were, and he was prepared, but for his nerves.

They made their way to the circular park area outside Osgiliath, where white and golden garlands hung draped over trees, and oil lamps and torches lit up everything which would fall into darkness within another hour.

The crowd gathered there was vast in magnitude, and as Faramir had mentally prepared himself for uncomfortable silence as the ceremony progressed, he was astounded to hear the thousands gathered burst into cheers and jubilations on seeing him.

Meltirn smiled, leading Faramir to the end of the long stone path he was to walk to the assembly area where the celebrant and Boromir were waiting.

Boromir.

Faramir gasped when he saw his brother, who had turned when the commotion began and was now staring wide-eyed at Faramir. At that moment, all cheering died down, and a hushed anticipation settled over the festively garbed crowd.

"Shall we?" Meltirn whispered, and Faramir nodded absently, not taking his eyes off his handsome brother. And side by side, he and Meltirn began the long walk down the path.

Faramir's snow-white tunic and breeches held every trace of light remaining of the day, and the precious gold accents on his shoulders, sleeves, clasps and circlet, as well as the golden sash around his slender waist, caught the flickering warmth of the many small light sources with each step he took closer to Boromir.

Boromir - who was dressed in the mirror opposites of Faramir's garments: he wore black from the raised collar of his tunic to the elegant boots peeking from beneath his black trousers, and all that was gold on Faramir was silver on him. Both of them together were clothed in all the colours of Gondor, like day and night.

Faramir's heart was pounding painfully, and he could scarcely breathe. He admitted to himself that it was not due to the ceremony as much as the sight of his brother. His beautiful brother. His... groom.

Boromir fared no better. His eyes were dark and wide, and he gulped forcefully when Faramir came to stand at his side. He wanted to speak to him, to say something. Anything. But he had been struck dumb by the sight before him.

The celebrant - an old woman with a gentle smile - looked at them both kindly. Then she stretched out her arms and called out to the crowd. "People of Gondor. We are here to unite these two before the eyes of all men and before the Valar. What say you?"

The crowd roared and cheered, and both their names could be made out in the noise.

Faramir was touched by the support, and had to suppress a tear.

Boromir, noticing this, smiled at him tenderly.

The celebrant looked at Boromir and bowed slightly. "Boromir, why do you stand before me today?"

Boromir dutifully answered, and his voice was sure and steady. "To be bound to the heart and body of Faramir, as I am bound to his soul."

Faramir shivered at the words. But more so at the way Boromir had spoken them, for his brother's sincerity was clear to hear for anyone present. Then it was his turn.

"Faramir, why do you stand before me today?"

"To be bound to the heart and body of Boromir, as I am bound to his soul," he said loudly and with determination. He heard Boromir draw an unsteady breath and looked sideways quickly to find his brother smiling abashedly. His heart felt light as air.

The celebrant nodded to Meltirn, who stepped forward holding up a woven white cushion with silver tassels. Faramir and Boromir both placed their left hands on the cushion - Boromir's resting atop Faramir's warmly.

The old woman said, "What is it you vow to each other?"

Boromir faced Faramir when he began in a trembling voice, "My true love hath my heart, and I have his..."

"By just exchange one for the other given," Faramir continued breathlessly.

"I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss," said Boromir.

"There never was a better bargain driven."

Together, they spoke, "My true love hath my heart, and I have his."

Then Faramir proceeded. "His heart in me keeps me and him in one."

"My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides..."

"He loves my heart, for once it was his own..." Faramir almost whispered.

"I cherish his, because in me it bides..." Boromir's voice cracked a little, but he recovered it when they uttered together,

"My true love hath my heart, and I have his."

Boromir looked deep into Faramir's eyes when he said, "His heart his wound received from my sight..."

Faramir swallowed. "My heart was wounded with his wounded heart..."

"For as from me on him his hurt did light..."

"So still, methought, in me his hurt did smart..." Faramir felt Boromir's hand squeeze down on his own lightly, and waited for his brother's next words.

"Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss..."

Smiling at each other, they said one last time, "My true love hath my heart, and I have his."

There was a moment's silence, then the gathered crowd once more began to cheer, and Faramir swallowed around the lump in his throat, willing himself not to cry.

Boromir's eyes never left those of his brother, until they heard a quiet snivelling sound and found the celebrant smiling and sobbing softly while looking back and forth between them.

It was at that moment that Boromir recognized her. He gaped at her, and she winked back from a wrinkled night-black eye. In the background, Meltirn was smirking knowingly.

"You have spoken your vows," Anira said in a trembling voice. "Now let your lips seal them before one and all."

Boromir looked at Faramir, and his eyes fell on the inviting smile playing about his brother's lips.

Meltirn withdrew the cushion and stepped back.

Holding Faramir's hands tight, his thumb tracing the ridge of the ring he had given him that morning, Boromir leaned in and kissed his brother. This kiss was warm and tender, not passionate and quickly out of control like their first. But they had to struggle to keep it so.

When their mouths separated, both felt equally dazed, and they could not have denied it for anything, as they were unable to break eye contact until a few good-natured chuckles arose from the gathered crowd. Flustered, they finally turned back to face Anira, who was smiling brightly.

"Boromir and Faramir. Go now, and celebrate this bond between you. May it not be severed in life or death."

The couple smiled at one another, then turned to face the crowd.

Boromir raised Faramir's hand high in the air. "People of Gondor!" he called, his voice breaking with emotion. "You have embraced this union between Faramir and myself with all your hearts. Now celebrate with us in the houses and streets of Osgiliath! And from this day forth, let Osgiliath be known as the city of light, and beauty..." With this his eyes fell on Faramir. "And music."

"Hooray!!" All of Gondor seemed to be shouting. "Long live Boromir and Faramir!"

Faramir laughed, and Boromir, hearing him even over the roar of the crowd, turned to him, wrapped his arms around his waist, and spun them both in a wild circle.

All around them, people were laughing and clapping their hands, and musicians began to play on the nearby terrace where the binding feast had been laid out.

Boromir and Faramir finally stopped, still with their arms around one another, and waited until all were out of sight.

"I cannot call you little brother anymore," Boromir said, yet he was smiling.

Faramir blushed, but it was already too dark to see this. He whispered, "You can call me lover instead."

Boromir sighed and squeezed Faramir tight. He leaned down and kissed him again, long and deep this time, and did not stop until their knees were weak and their hearts pounding loud enough for each to hear that of the other.

Someone coughed behind them, jolting them apart. When they turned, Meltirn was smiling at them. "All these books and lessons, and still I need to remind you both that your guests cannot begin the feast until your arrival."

Boromir chuckled, and Faramir turned to hide his embarrassed smile.
"Forgive us, Meltirn. We are on our way," Boromir assured, and following a few steps behind the half-elf, they went to join the banquet hand-in-hand.

For the next few hours, there were speeches, enough wine, ale and food to keep the armies of Gondor in luxury for weeks, and yet more speeches.

Boromir at one point had whispered to Faramir that their wedding celebrant had been Anira, and his brother had insisted they try to find her.

Meltirn, who clearly knew her well, was of no assistance in the matter, but he smiled secretively when they asked if they would ever see her again, for after all, they had many questions in want of answers.

The evening passed slowly for all the merriment and dancing and gift giving, and grateful as the couple were for all the well wishes, they would have liked nothing better than to be able to sneak away.

However, even that was accompanied by much ceremony as per Gondorian tradition, and when the time came, half their guests trailed them through the citadel to where their room had been prepared. Supposedly to ensure all customs were followed to the letter, or so one of Boromir's marshalls declared merrily.

On arriving at the wide doors surrounded by wreaths of ivy twined with red and white roses and shining blue elanors, Boromir found himself the subject of much shoulder-clapping and encouragement.

"Go on then, Captain!" called one of his friends, and the others laughed.

Faramir wanted nothing more than to hide, but instead, he found a laughing Boromir make to lift him up into his arms. "I am no fair maiden to be carried around so!" he protested, though half-heartedly as he was laughing himself.

Boromir took him around the waist and behind the knees and lifted him high in the air effortlessly. "But fair, to be sure. And mine to carry around," he called out, beaming at Faramir.

The men howled with laughter, while Faramir hid his face against Boromir's chest, but he looked up when much commotion began around them, for Meltirn and two of the men were battering the chamber door open with far more effort and fuss than strictly necessary.

Boromir carried Faramir through the doorway to the sound of much cheering. The chamber they had never seen before was lit by nothing but a few candles and a roaring fire, and the scent of roses and elanors hung heavily in the air, for there were thousands of petals strewn across the room and even the wide bed.

There was no chance to look around, for Boromir turned back to face the crowd in the hall, where Meltirn was taking charge once more, holding everyone back with his arms stretched wide. The half-elf then pulled a long garland of flowers from above the door and laid it across the still open doorway. Smiling, he declared loud enough for all to hear that none would be allowed to enter the chambers until both Boromir and Faramir emerged.

Laughing and bowing playfully, the men retreated, and Boromir and Faramir were left behind, facing a door which swung on its hinges and, very softly, clicked shut.

CHAPTER SIX

For long moments, there was only the crackling of the fire-place, a nightingale in a tree outside the balcony, and the uneven breathing of the chamber's two sole occupants.

Faramir, still held high in Boromir's arms, tipped his head back far enough to look into his brother's face and find the soft green eyes already focused on him. A nervous and excited shiver ran down his spine under the intensity of the gaze.

"Faramir..." Boromir whispered huskily, before tilting his head and pressing his mouth to Faramir's.

Faramir sighed into the kiss, his eyes closing. He reached around his brother's neck with both arms and returned the kiss eagerly.

Boromir slowly let go of Faramir's legs, allowing him to slide into a standing position without releasing him. With a groan, Boromir crushed Faramir's middle to himself. He soothed the answering whimper with a tender touch of his hand to the back of Faramir's head, where he clutched a handful of soft curls.

Faramir moaned into his brother's mouth desperately. He had anticipated a careful, tender beginning to their first night, and was completely overwhelmed by Boromir's warm, solid form all along his own body, seeming to pulse with need.

Their tongues twined and almost fought in each other's mouths, withdrew and were chased back in turns. Breathless, wet smacks of lips repeated over and over while their hands clawed at one another's clothing.

Faramir's hand lay on the nape of Boromir's neck and he hooked his fingers behind the high collar to feel even just that touch of bare skin, so hungry for more, and for Boromir's hands anywhere on his own body. "Touch me," he whispered. "Please, Boromir!"

Boromir groaned. "Yes, Faramir. Yes. Anything you want." He held him with both hands on his shoulder blades, his hot mouth on Faramir's cheek, then his jaw, then under his chin, as Faramir's head tilted back, and he drew his hands forward over Faramir's shoulders and brought them to the gold-trimmed collar. He fumbled with the clasps there, but made slow progress for his lips followed the path of his fingers over every inch of skin revealed, kissing and worshipping.

Faramir was gasping. He had thought that surely nothing could be more arousing than Boromir's kiss. But his brother's lips on his skin... and hot, trembling fingers like fire spreading down the centre of his chest... He swayed, steadying himself with his hands on Boromir's hips, his thumbs drawing small circles on the skin which felt hot even through layers of velvet. Skin he would touch before the night was out, the way Boromir was touching his. Lips being joined by that hot, searching tongue, flames licking over the gently curving planes of his chest - half bared now, sparse red-gold hairs damp with Boromir's kisses.

Faramir did not realize he was holding his breath until Boromir smiled up at him and said, "Breathe, sweet one. Or I shall have to revive you."

Faramir blushed at the endearment. Teasingly, he asked, "How would you do that?"

"By kissing all my breath into you," Boromir whispered. And laying his palm flat on Faramir's chest, he said, "And pressing down on your heart, like so." The gentlest pressure, no heavier than the touch of lips.

Faramir's heart gave a sudden lurch, and he moaned softly, his eyes fixed on his brother's features - so tender, so caring. "And if that would not wake me?"

Boromir smiled mischievously. "Then I would ravish you like a wild animal, for that would surely wake you."

Gasping, Faramir gripped Boromir's hips tighter, his eyes widening.

A soft chuckle. "Fear me not, Faramir. I jest."

They shared a measuring glance.

"I do not fear you, Boromir. And..."

"And?" Boromir asked huskily.

"And I would like you to..." Faramir blushed. "To ravish me. Like that." Encouraged by Boromir's whimper, he added quickly, "In any way you choose."

"Faramir!" Boromir took his face in his hands. "You need not say this, if you do not truly feel it in your heart," he assured breathlessly. "I can wait. I will wait forever if I must."

Faramir's brows rose up. "Wait? But..."

Boromir leaned his forehead against Faramir's and sighed. "There can be nothing but complete truth between us, little one," he said. "We must do what we must do, and I feel you do not mind too much..."

Faramir almost laughed at this, for it was so far from how he felt he could scarcely believe it. But he had to hear Boromir out.

"I promised to be careful and gentle, and I shall be. Tonight, and any other night you choose to be with me so. But I expect no more of you, and you must not feel obligated."

He had to put a stop to this. Right then. "Boromir, hush."

Boromir raised his head and blinked at him.

Faramir smiled. "If we are to have complete truth, let me tell you this. I have scarcely slept or eaten this past week."

Boromir hung his head sadly, and Faramir hurried on. "For I have not for a moment forgotten your kiss." Now having Boromir's full attention, he continued, "I never knew how it would feel to kiss, to touch, to love with complete abandon, until you gave me a taste of it."

Boromir's eyes filled with tears, but he held his tongue.

And Faramir kept talking, "I have never known such happiness. Such perfection. I suddenly knew that every touch you have ever gifted me with has been but a prophet of this, giving me a longing none of your embraces could ever quite sate, making me want more and more without knowing what it was I wanted." He took a deep breath. "That moment when you kissed me, I knew what I had been waiting for all my life. And all my life, you have been there. Right before me. This is no curse. Not to me." He tilted his head and smiled. "Oh Boromir, I love you so."

Boromir's lips parted on a sigh, and tears began to slip from the corners of his eyes. He clutched Faramir's hands to his own chest and whispered brokenly. "No one but you has ever found, or would ever find, a place in here." He pressed the trembling palms hard against his chest so Faramir could feel his rapid heartbeat. "There is no room there for another, Faramir, for you have always filled my heart. You alone." He raised the hands and kissed the palms one by one. "My brother. My love. My only love. No, this is indeed no curse."

Faramir sobbed, and even while he did, he reached to swipe Boromir's own tears away.

Boromir leaned forward and kissed the tears from Faramir's cheeks tenderly, then allowed Faramir to do the same to him. Trembling, they made their way to the vast bed, with Faramir leading Boromir there by the hand. When he sat and gazed up at Boromir, a gentle hand removed the golden circlet from its bed of curls, careful not to let it catch on them. Then Boromir rested that hand lightly on Faramir's head and stroked down the side of his face.

Faramir leaned into the caress, closing his eyes.

Sighing, Boromir sat down beside Faramir. He kissed him lightly, nipping at his bottom lip, and with one hand between Faramir's shoulder blades and the other over his heart, lowered him back onto the bed.

Faramir, suddenly trembling uncontrollably, though not with fear, parted his lips to receive Boromir's kiss. He would never tire of his brother's taste, he knew that. He lapped hungrily, swallowed the honey of Boromir's mouth, and stroked the offered tongue, over and over, until he was so aroused he could barely contain himself. His arms reached up and around Boromir's middle, drawing him down while pressing up against him.

They groaned, together, thrusting gently in rapid little movements, still fully dressed save for Faramir's half-undone tunic.

Boromir's thigh rested across Faramir's, trapping that leg separate from the other so he could lie half between them, half atop Faramir. Their well-muscled thighs pressed hard against the other's arousal, and they might have been content to lie like that for a long time were it not for the unbearable need to feel bare skin against bare skin.

Parting the folds of Faramir's tunic, Boromir lowered his lips to the warm space there, licking and kissing until Faramir was whimpering. When he reached the barrier of the golden sash, he tugged until he could draw the tunic up and let it fall open.

"My beautiful brother..." he whispered, stroking across the heaving chest with a wide, sweeping motion, pushing the fabric off first one shoulder, then the other. Then he lowered his lips to one tightly drawn nipple and suckled.

Faramir cried out, bucking up into the caress while his fingers dug into Boromir's back. He shivered and moaned, growing impossibly aroused, while Boromir lavished the same attention on his entire chest, then his shoulders, holding Faramir down with his hands while his lips were busy wringing cry after cry from Faramir's throat.

"Boromir!" Faramir finally called out. "Stop, please, I..."

Boromir showed mercy, smiling mischievously as he raised himself on his elbow and, while gazing into now dark blue eyes, made quick work of the sash around Faramir's waist. He let the silk slide through his fingers, sparing a brief thought for its inadequacy compared to Faramir's skin, and pushed it aside to lift Faramir's upper body and tug the tunic off his arms.

Faramir allowed this easily and, while held in Boromir's arms so, pressed close to him and nipped at his lips.

Boromir groaned, both arms wrapping tight around his brother's waist, and he fell back, drawing Faramir on top of himself.

Inelegantly scrambling about, Faramir settled over Boromir's middle and leaned down to kiss him, licking his lips open and thrusting his tongue inside mercilessly when he realized that in doing so, he could physically feel Boromir's arousal increase in hot little jolts. He wiggled a little for good measure.

It was Boromir's turn to cry out. "Faramir, have mercy!" he was panting, impossibly hard against his brother's groin and frustrated by the abundance of clothing separating them.

As if with the same thought, Faramir began to pull and tear at the silver sash around Boromir's waist, his face in a concentrated frown which looked so endearing, Boromir chuckled.

"What?" Faramir cried out hectically. "This is not a laughing matter, Boromir, help me!"

Now Boromir truly did laugh out loud, his arousal momentarily taking backstage to pure adoration of Faramir's sweetness. "Come here," he murmured warmly, and drew Faramir into his arms, simply holding him pressed close to his chest.

At first, Faramir tried to pull away, but then he settled with a deep sigh and allowed the stroking hands on his head and back to soothe him. "Forgive me," he muttered. "I am too impatient."

Boromir smiled into the red-golden curls. "I cannot tell you how it delights me that you should wish to have me naked in such a hurry, sweet one."

Faramir smiled against Boromir's chest, warm even through the thick black tunic. "I have thought of little else this past week," he confessed.

Boromir growled at this. "You are right," he admitted. "There is no time to lose." And with this, he rolled Faramir off himself, trapped him between his legs and removed his own sash and tunic hurriedly.

Faramir stared up at him, watching his fingers at work, any protests at the sudden reversal of their positions forgotten as he watched inch after inch of smooth skin and firm muscle revealed. He knew they were both of similar stature, but he could not imagine that he looked anywhere near as beautiful as Boromir, who was now bared to the waist as he was, smiling down at him.

Faramir's eyes hung on the smile, and then moved over broad shoulders and a nearly completely smooth chest - decorated with a few faded battle scars - and down to a narrow waist. He struggled to pull himself upright with his arms around Boromir's waist and, with a sigh, pressed his mouth to Boromir's sternum.

Boromir gasped out, holding Faramir's head as he began to lap at his skin, twisting to reach as much of it as possible in their positions, and he took pity and raised himself on his knees to allow Faramir better access. When a warm tongue slipped into his navel, he groaned, restraining himself from bucking forward into the caress.

Faramir was whimpering softly while dipping his tongue into the small space over and over, and he distracted Boromir so thoroughly that the slow rolling down of the fabric beneath went unnoticed, until his tongue began to follow the trail of hair as far as he could reach.

"My turn, I think," Boromir hissed, removing himself from Faramir's reach just far enough to take his hands and press them into the mattress while he crouched over him.

To Faramir, Boromir looked like nothing so much as a predator at that moment, and he shivered in anticipation. His mouth was claimed hungrily, and Boromir lowered himself atop him. He sucked on the tongue offered to him in recompense for what he had been denied, and his moan of protest at the sudden end to the kiss turned into one of desire, when Boromir slid down along his body, still keeping his hands trapped, and began to tug down Faramir's breeches with his teeth.

This soon proved inefficient and painfully slow, however, so Boromir let go of Faramir's hands and, sitting over his brother's thighs, hooked his fingers behind the straining fabric. "I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, Faramir," Boromir murmured.

"What do you see?" whispered Faramir.

Smiling, Boromir began to describe the flawlessness of Faramir's skin, the softness of the sparse hairs trailing down his middle, the musk of his arousal, potent even through the now damp fabric of his breeches.

Faramir was panting hard by the end of it, and his eyes and soft whimpers were pleading with Boromir.

"Hush now, sweet one. I will not make you wait any longer," Boromir promised and peeled the fabric back to reveal Faramir's leaking arousal. He groaned hungrily, even as Faramir did so with relief, and closed his warm hand around the throbbing shaft.

Faramir sobbed at this first touch, infinitely grateful that Boromir gave him a moment to recover himself before beginning to move his large, gentle hand on him. He whimpered and mewled, never having known such pleasure. And he thought he might die when he felt the softness of Boromir's hair against his groin a mere moment before the now so familiar, talented lips kissed the crown of his erection tenderly and then closed around it to draw on it. Hard.

"Boromir!" he cried out, bucking up as far as his brother's weight on him would allow. And then he simply continued to thrash helplessly as Boromir took him all the way down into his throat, his tongue swirling over throbbing veins, and pressing insistently against particularly sensitive spots, until Faramir was reduced to a quivering mass. Only then did Boromir release the base and move his fingers between trembling thighs to stroke back and up against Faramir's opening.

Faramir groaned and tensed, his seed gushing hotly against the back of Boromir's throat, and still the searching fingers did not release him. Only when he fell back in utter exhaustion did Boromir take pity on him.

Letting Faramir's cock slowly slide from his mouth, Boromir lay down beside him and drew him into his arms. "You must surely be the sweetest treat in all of Gondor."

Faramir settled against him with a happy sigh. "I reserve judgment until I have tasted you, my love."

Smiling, Boromir kissed his temple, then lay quietly to give Faramir time to recover. Thankfully, his brother's youth proved useful in this, and within minutes, he felt a renewed erection against the side of his thigh and Faramir thrusting against him in tiny, uncoordinated movements.

Boromir reached down to undo his own breeches, but Faramir slapped his hand away playfully. Smiling, Boromir settled down on his back, his arms crossed behind his neck.

Faramir blushed at the challenge in his brother's-- No, his groom's eyes, but was more than willing to take it on. He scrambled awkwardly off the edge of the bed, hindered by his half-removed breeches, and pushed them down together with his boots until he stood before Boromir completely naked.

Boromir raised his head and upper body, supporting himself on his elbows, and moaned softly as he drank in the sight.

Faramir held the heated gaze bravely and knelt at Boromir's feet. He lovingly pulled off one boot after the other, caressing the long, elegant feet as he bared them, and then stroked his hands up the entire length of Boromir's legs, which parted easily for him, until he reached the closure of his breeches. He paused there, his eyes still fixed on Boromir's, as he pressed one hand down over the clear outline of his brother's straining arousal.

The whimper this rung from Boromir's throat tightened Faramir's chest, and he rubbed a little, before lowering his face to the fabric and nuzzling the hard shape with his cheek. Then, he pressed a kiss to it. He heard Boromir whisper his name brokenly, and looked up to see the familiar green eyes dark and shining almost unearthly. Unable to wait another moment, he unlaced the breeches and drew them down over Boromir's hips and off his legs, and only then did he allow himself to look upon the arousal now straining towards him. He gasped, tentatively touching a finger to the head, so soft and warm against his skin.

Boromir was panting hard, but did not move, waiting to see what Faramir would do.

Experimentally, Faramir lowered his mouth to the flushed skin and licked, moaning when a drop at once sweet and salty touched his tongue. Oh, he wanted more of this! His tongue swirled around the entire crown now, and over it each time a new drop appeared. He closed a slender hand around the shaft, his thumb tenderly tracing a vein up and down the entire length, while he continued to lick. He was so lost in the taste and texture of Boromir, he had no idea of the torment his brother was in until a groan which sounded terribly pained was wrenched from Boromir's throat.

"Please, little one! Do not tease me so!" Boromir begged.

Faramir laid a soothing hand on Boromir's belly, and when he lowered his lips to kiss away another drop, he continued on, enclosing the entire shaft in the warm wetness of his mouth and throat, as far as he could manage it.

Boromir cried out, and it took mere moments before he began to spasm and twitch, one leg jerking up and his toes curling around the edge of the bed while he reached out to touch the back of Faramir's head, and he let go.

Faramir swallowed frantically, spluttered, and swallowed again, and when he let go of the organ grown limp in his mouth, he licked away all he had not managed to swallow right away from the crease of Boromir's groin and the base of his cock.

Boromir lay quietly, one arm across his eyes, and he was trembling all over when Faramir moved up his side.

"Boromir?" Faramir asked in concern, reaching to pull away the arm. As he did, he realized Boromir was crying softly. "Oh Boromir..." Before he could say anything further, he was pulled into a crushing embrace and kissed senseless.

Boromir rolled over him, their warm, sweat-damp bodies sliding against one another as he plundered the sweet mouth holding their mingled tastes.

Faramir sobbed into the kiss, tasting Boromir's tears and essence and love all at once. If he would never be allowed to breathe again, he would not care.

Eventually though, he was released, and Boromir was leaning over him and gazing at him in a way that made Faramir shiver hot and cold by turns. "I love you more than I can tell you," Boromir whispered, awed.

Faramir smiled tenderly, stroking a tear-damp lock of hair from Boromir's brow. "Then it is as well we are married now. You have all the time in the world to keep telling me."

Boromir sighed, blinking the remaining tears from his eyes. "Yes. You are right. Husband."

"Husband," Faramir repeated the word, and found he loved it even more than the word brother, and nearly as much as the word Boromir.

Boromir smiled at him. A smile of complete and utter happiness. "How could Anira know this, so many years ago?"

"I know not, but I would give her anything - except you, of course - in gratitude." Faramir returned the smile, which was soon kissed from him by Boromir's lips.

They had kissed each other into a sleepy half-daze, and only when they grew once more aroused did they wake again fully.

Faramir's lips parted from his brother's, shining with moisture, and his speech was slurred with lassitude when he murmured, "I want you to possess me, Boromir. In body, as you do already in heart and soul."

The words were entirely Faramir's own, but they matched the words of their binding ceremony so well, it made Boromir smile. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure." He felt Faramir shiver in anticipation, and suddenly, there seemed no time to lose.

Looking around the room, Boromir found the kind soul who had prepared their chamber - Meltirn or Anira herself, no doubt - had thought of everything. He reached for the vial of oil placed beside the bed, and held it tight in his hand to warm it while looking deep into Faramir's eyes.

Faramir swallowed convulsively, his Adam's apple moving up and down rapidly. "What do you want me to do?" he asked in a rough whisper.

"Lie on your stomach, Faramir, facing the head of the bed, and part your legs," Boromir instructed and was obeyed immediately.

He clutched the small glass container nearly hard enough to break it when faced with Faramir before him in this tempting position, laid out like a feast. The smooth globes of his buttocks beckoned as much as the shallow indents above them and the strong lines of his thighs.

Boromir licked his lips, the oil momentarily placed aside as he traced his fingertips over the endearing dimples at the base of Faramir's back, smiling at the realization that he himself bore those very same decorations. His long fingers played over the curve of one cheek, then the other, and he was aware of the rising of Faramir's breaths, coming louder and more rapidly with every moment. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to the expanse of soft skin, and when he was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath, he flicked out his tongue and trailed a wet path of kisses and licks over one cheek after the other, before pressing his hands - large enough to nearly cover them - down upon them and parting them to reveal the opening to Faramir's body, barely visible in the soft fire-light of the room.

Faramir trembled beneath his gaze, and Boromir felt his skin grow warm in his grasp. He leaned down, kissed the small hole, and before Faramir could begin to recover from the unexpected caress, flicked out his tongue to lick across it and into the wrinkled space.

Crying out, Faramir convulsed with pleasure, and it took all of Boromir's strength to hold him down as he continued to lick and soothe the skin there, preparing the opening with quick stabs and then slow glides of his tongue, deeper and deeper inside.

Faramir was beside himself, whimpering and moaning Boromir's name, his arousal so hard he was hurting.

His brother took pity on him and raised his hips slightly to reach underneath him, squeezing his balls briefly before wrapping his warm palm around Faramir's cock. He stroked him quickly and efficiently and, within moments, Faramir spilled himself into his hand with a deep groan.

Boromir had not stopped licking him, and now that Faramir was in a state of complete relaxation, he used it to his advantage, running his seed-slicked fingers over Faramir's hole and gently venturing inside.

Faramir muttered incoherrently, but it sounded like, 'more', so Boromir withdrew his fingers and drizzled some of the oil over and into the opening. Then he entered the oil-sheened hole again, with first one finger, then two, and stretched and widened gently until Faramir relaxed completely around the digits.

Leaning over his brother's back, Boromir whispered close to his ear, "Are you ready for me now, sweet one?"

Faramir nodded and bit down on his fist in anticipation.

Boromir raised Faramir' hips above his own thighs, and gently, slowly, guided himself inside. The warmth and tightness nearly overwhelmed him many times before he was all the way in, and he kept biting his lower lip hard for distraction.

Faramir began to plead and moan, jerking backwards a little, which was nearly Boromir's undoing, but he held onto his control hard, refusing to risk the slightest hurt to his beloved. "I love you," Boromir panted, his strokes rhythmic and easy, his hands clutching Faramir's hips tight.

"And I love you," Faramir replied with a wounded little cry, shivering.

A few more strokes, and Boromir stopped, drawing out of Faramir's body. Slowly and very reluctantly.

"Boromir, no!" Faramir protested weakly.

"Shhh, little one. I wish to see you while I make love to you," Boromir explained.

Faramir turned on his back and nodded eagerly. He allowed his brother to push him up against the headboard and to part his legs so Boromir could kneel between them.

Boromir lifted him on his lap, his erection briefly colliding with Faramir's, which left them both dizzy and shivering for a moment. "Come here," he murmured hotly, and with both hands beneath Faramir's buttocks, lifted him up and slowly back down onto his wet, straining cock.

Faramir was gripping Boromir's shoulders tight, panting as he was lowered back down, the angle so different and so much deeper than before. But oh, this was so much better. To be able to see those lust-dark eyes, to be able to kiss Boromir. "Please..." he begged. "Oh please... Boromir."

"Hush, I am here. I am inside you, Faramir." Boromir kissed him, lifting him only very slightly and lowering him down again gently. "Can you feel me?"

"Yes," Faramir hissed. "Oh heavens, yes. We are one, Boromir. Truly one now." His fingers dug deep into Boromir's flesh, and he lifted himself up this time, pressing back down more forcefully.

Boromir groaned, his hands on Faramir's hips faltering. "Slowly. I do not wish for this to be over too soon."

"No," Faramir agreed, his unfocused eyes hanging on Boromir's, then falling to his lips - parted and moist and inviting - and he kissed them, licked them, nipped at them.

Boromir returned the kiss, thrusting his tongue into Faramir's mouth as he was thrusting into his body.

Groaning and clenching his muscles tight around Boromir's cock, Faramir shifted, and nearly went out of his mind with a jolt of pleasure so intense, he thought never to recover.

"Yes, yes. Faramir!" Boromir encouraged, gripping him tighter, pulling him closer. "That is it, sweet one." He thrust up harder, faster, keeping the angle he knew would drive Faramir mad. The tightness was nearly too much to bear now, his nerves on fire, and he drove them both higher knowingly, wanting to fall with Faramir.

Faramir cried out as if in pain, his eyes shut tight, his head thrown back and his throat exposed, and Boromir kissed him there, licked his neck, continuing to thrust quicker and quicker now, and when he felt Faramir begin to tremble wildly, he kissed the side of his neck one more time and then bit down on that spot, hard.

Crying out, Faramir came in hot gushes, coating both their stomachs and chests, his fingers digging into Boromir's shoulders, his nails leaving half-moon wedges there which might never disappear.

And Boromir groaned hard against the small wound he had inflicted, jolting with the pleasure as he filled his brother's twitching body, Faramir's convulsions wringing every last drop from him until he was weak and empty and drained.

But his heart was full, and when he met Faramir's eyes, they kissed, long and sweet and tender, until they both collapsed on their sides, tugged the blankets up and, with their arms wrapped tightly around one another, drifted into a satiated slumber which would last until morning.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A soft knock on the door woke them, but it was the sight of one another which truly revived them.

"Husband," Faramir whispered in awe, the moment his eyes opened.

"Mmm..." Boromir replied with a smile. He kissed Faramir's nose gently and snuggled closer.

The knock was repeated, but neither was inclined to answer the door.

"Good morning, my Lords," came Meltirn's voice from the hall. "I did not mean to disturb you, only to tell you that I am leaving a tray of food outside your door."

"Thank you, Meltirn," muttered Faramir sleepily, and the elf must have heard, for his steps retreated down the hall.

Boromir stretched. "I had better go get it," he murmured and, reluctantly, rose from the warmth of the bed to retrieve the food, unaware that Faramir's eyes were following his every move, until he returned to the side of the bed and found Faramir convulsing with laughter.

"What?" he asked, chuckling.

"You opened the door like that, Boromir." Faramir pointed out his brother's undeniable arousal, and he was blushing and laughing out loud all at once.

Looking down at his completely stark naked body, Boromir had to admit that he should have perhaps fully woken up prior to leaving the bed. But there was no time to start fretting, for he had an equally naked and ravishingly sleep-tousled Faramir before him.

The day was half gone by the time both Boromir and Faramir managed to leave the warm haven of their marriage bed and, in truth, it was only because they feared someone might come breaking down the door otherwise.

When they walked to the terrace before the citadel, they were greeted by the cheers of their assembled men and, as if on cue, both of them blushed scarlet, which had the men roaring with laughter.

Meltirn greeted them with a wave of his arm and, grateful for the distraction, they both followed him to a table set up for lunch under a shaded tree. There, to their delight, they saw Anira already seated and waiting for them.

"My young lords," she called out and, though frail with age, hugged them both one after the other. She fell back down in her chair, wrapping her deep blue cloak more tightly around herself despite the relatively warm day. "Well then, I expect you have many questions," she said with a smile.

Boromir and Faramir, seated very closely beside each other and with their hands touching atop the table, exchanged a quick glance. Instead of a question, both declared as if in one breath, "This is no curse!" Anira and Meltirn laughed heartily, and the two men joined them on realizing they had spoken the words as one.

"I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am to hear that," said Anira.

Boromir frowned. "Why then call it a curse? Why curse the kingdom, in fact?"

Anira smiled fondly at him. "It was a curse for your father, Boromir. It was never intended to hurt either of you." She looked sadly at Faramir. "He looked at you with such hatred when you were born, Faramir, I hated him in turn, for I am a seer, and I knew at once you were the sweetest, gentlest creature I had ever helped into the world. Aside from your brother, that is." She smiled and placed a frail, bony hand on the brothers' joined ones.

"I knew you were as one, and that neither of you would ever be happy without the other. But I also knew your positions in the kingdom, and that you would be expected to part and marry and sire heirs. I decided then - and I beg for your forgiveness of my presumption - that only a bond between you which linked you with a curse would ensure your future happiness."

Boromir and Faramir stared at her wide-eyed. "We feared it was your bond that had made us so close," Boromir confessed, and Faramir nodded.

"Oh, no!" Anira laughed out loud. "You needed no bond to be close. You were born so."

Relief was evident on their faces as they gazed at each other lovingly.

Then Faramir rose and knelt by Anira's side to embrace her once more, and she laughed and cried at once. "Thank you," he murmured croakily against her shoulder. "I have no words to express my gratitude."

Boromir rose as well and bent to kiss her withered cheek. "Nor I. How can we ever thank you enough, when you have given us everything?"

Anira smiled. "Your happiness is reward enough, dear ones. Oh, Meltirn here kept a close eye on you both; he was instructed to tell me immediately if there was any sign that I had misread your connection. I myself would have broken the curse then, though I connected the bond to the curse in such a way that this would not easily be done."

"It could have been?" Faramir asked, surprised and clearly relieved it had not been. "Father claimed to have tried everything."

Meltirn laughed out loud at this. "He accosted every elf, wizard and witch he could find in the kingdom, waving his parchment at them, but it did not occur to him for an instant that the woman who had cast this curse was both well-loved and well-known among all the eldar and wise folk. And that she was... forgive me, mistress..." He looked at Anira fondly, "... rather devious, for the parchment contained a secret message to those who knew what to look for."

Boromir pondered this, and could not recall what this secret message might have been, no matter how hard he tried.

Anira smiled. "I stated to belong to the Order of Evol." She chuckled. "There is no such order. But the word 'evol' read in reverse made it more than clear to anyone why the curse had been placed and why it was not to be broken under any circumstances."

Faramir and Boromir laughed at this, but the sound died on their lips when they saw a figure approaching the table; one neither of them wanted to see.

"Anira, leave, quickly," Faramir hissed. "If father..."

She shook her head. "No, Faramir. I will not hide from him. I have only done so until now to be sure I would hear you speak your vows to each other as you were meant to. I am very old and frail and care not what happens to me now."

Boromir looked to Meltirn as if to instruct him to take Anira away, but the half-elf would not disobey his mistress and merely shook his head.

"All must come to pass as it is meant to, Boromir," Anira declared, and a shadow passed over her face, but only for an instant.

Denethor had reached their table, his expression as cold and heartless as stone. He spared no glance for Anira, which confused both Boromir and Faramir. Instead, it was his two sons he glared at. "So you have consummated your binding and made Gondor safe?" he asked icily.

Faramir and Boromir exchanged a glance, and Boromir nodded.

At this, a look of utter disgust flashed across Denethor's features but was immediately replaced by a wide, unsettling smile. "I am proud of you, my sons." A nerve below his right eye twitched. "You have made a great sacrifice for your land." He reached out one arm to Boromir, but when his older son did not step into the embrace, he moved forward and pulled him against his chest.

Boromir stood in the embrace stiffly, willing it to be over as quickly as possible. He felt nothing but hatred for his cold-hearted father now and would not allow another evil word or deed against Faramir.

When he was finally released and Denethor turned his eyes to Faramir, a terrible vision came to Boromir for a split-second, and as he watched Denethor move to draw Faramir into his arms for the first time he had ever witnessed, he screamed, "No! Faramir!" and launched himself between them.

A sharp, piercing pain shot through his side, and all went dark as he collapsed on the ground; his last, hazy impression was of the sound of arrows slicing through the air.

Boromir woke, what seemed like years later, to the sound of sobbing, and then the dearest voice he could imagine, whispering his name in heart wrenching desperation. He gasped in a breath and, immediately, hands flew to his face, caressing him, and the sobbing died down while the voice grew louder. Clearer.

"Boromir!" it called out, and then, "He is awake! Meltirn!"

Boromir groaned in pain, and found he could not move. His limbs seemed heavy as lead, and he had no feeling whatsoever in his right side. All he could manage to say was, "Faramir..."

"I am here, beloved." The tender hands cupped his cheeks, and a kiss was pressed to his parched lips.

And Boromir felt alive again. Revived. He could face the world when those lips were there to kiss him.

Another entered the room, but Boromir was only aware of him very dimly, and began to fuss over him, doing something to his side, though Boromir could not feel what.

Faramir was sobbing again. "Meltirn, he looks in so much pain. Help him, please!"

Meltirn murmured an incantation of some sort, and then another voice rose across the room - a woman's voice. And Meltirn grew silent while the woman began to speak in some ancient language, settling by Boromir's side, laying something cool on his bare skin, all the while murmuring the words.

Boromir became vaguely aware that he could feel the coolness, and thinking that must be a good thing, he drifted off again.

The next time he woke, a soothing weight lay across his chest, and soft hair tickled his side - the side which had been numb on his first waking. He raised his right arm experimentally and, finding he could do so without too much pain, laid his hand on the curls resting on his chest.

Faramir became aware of Boromir's changed breathing even before he felt the touch, and he raised his head to look at him. "Boromir," he whispered, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with still more unshed tears.

"Yes, Faramir. I am better," Boromir assured his love croakily and was kissed again, with very great care.

"I was so scared of losing you," Faramir murmured against his lips. "I could not bear to."

More kisses, and the dryness of Boromir's lips was soon dispelled by the moisture of Faramir's. But his throat was still too dry for him to speak easily, and he coughed as he tried.

"Wait," Faramir said, quickly bringing a goblet of water to Boromir's lips. He held his head up gently. "Can you drink this?"

Boromir nodded, and the cooling liquid was pressed to his lips. He drank greedily, then settled back on his pillow. "Faramir," he said, his voice sounding more normal now. He felt his hands clutched tightly.

"I love you, Boromir. I love your life so much more than my own. Remember this before you ever risk it again," Faramir chided, but his relief that Boromir was safe made it sound more like a plea than anger.

"He would have killed you," Boromir said, and as he spoke the words, he recalled what had happened. More or less what had happened. In fear, he tried to sit up, but was pushed back down gently. "Faramir, are you safe? Where is--"

"He is dead." Faramir's eyes glinted with hatred as he said the words, but softened with love when he met Boromir's gaze again. "You must have seen the small dagger hidden beneath his cloak before anyone did."

Boromir shook his head. "I did not. I had a sudden vision of danger, when he moved to embrace you."

Faramir looked at him in surprise. "Oh."

From the doorway, Anira's voice travelled to them, and both turned to look at her. "Faramir's rangers closest to the terrace fired their arrows at Denethor when they realized what was happening. He was struck by half a dozen at once and died within moments."

Boromir squeezed Faramir's hands. "He always underestimated everyone. He had no concept of how much your men love you."

"And you, Boromir." Faramir returned the pressure, smiling.

Anira stepped to their side. "You will soon mend, Boromir," she said. "You are strong." She smiled at Faramir. "And well loved indeed." Facing him again, she added, "And your kingdom needs you now."

Boromir sighed. "There has been talk of an heir to Isildur's throne for some time now. He will take the kingdom for his own now, surely."

Anira shook her head. "No, he will not." At the surprised glances from both brothers, she explained. "He was raised by the elves of Imladris, and this man has little faith in the world of men, or love for it. And now that he is your own age, Boromir, and is to wed Elrond's daughter, he has made his decision. He will not ascend to the throne, but will go into the west with his wife when the time comes."

Faramir looked at Boromir. "That means..."

"It falls to you both to rule the future of Gondor. Together." Anira smiled. "As you were meant to, for there will be much need in the years to come for strong, kind leadership. And you will rule with love and compassion and will be adored by all who dwell in Gondor, as you are now."

Boromir sighed. "This is much to take in indeed."

Faramir looked pleadingly at Anira, who smiled.

"Of course. Boromir should sleep now, and once he is well again, perhaps I might be present at another important ceremony?" She winked, and Faramir smiled at her gratefully, and then she left the room.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Boromir mended well and quickly, not least of all because Faramir would tease him with kisses and tender touches and promises of more just as soon as he recovered.

They spent many hours of the day walking through the gardens and streets of Gondor and, everywhere they went, the people would smile at them and wish them well. And they made up for lost time with Anira, who told them many tales of their mother, and of the way Gondor had been before they were born.

And at night, they would shut out all but the moon and the stars, and would kiss underneath the tree of Gondor and then make love in their marriage bed, which they had moved to the room that had been Boromir's since childhood - the room where they had spent so much time comforting one another.

The day of the coronation was one month after the binding ceremony, and as it was also one month after Faramir came of age, they were indeed able to be crowned together.

Their garb was white and black, respectively, as for the binding, but they both wore long fur-trimmed capes of the deepest scarlet with trains many yards long.

Side by side, Boromir and Faramir walked through the great hall towards the throne of Gondor and a second throne for the king's consort; for them, they had been placed side by side on a level.

Before the thrones stood Anira, with Meltirn and another elf attending her - each bearing a crown of gold, decorated with a silver tree of Gondor and studded with rubies and diamonds.

Boromir gazed at Faramir, who smiled at him. He winked and took great delight in Faramir's flush at such a playful gesture during such a grand ceremony.

Gathered in the hall were important attendants of the court, as well as both Boromir's and Faramir's senior men, who would need new military leaders now that their captains were to rule the kingdom from Minas Tirith.

Anira smiled at them both and, with her voice shaking with emotion, she praised their leadership and characters, and assured them of the love of their people; this was followed by much cheering from the gathered crowd.

Faramir blushed, and Boromir smiled, at the attention. And one after the other, they swore their love and goodwill for their land, and all who heard them knew they spoke the truth.

Anira motioned for them to kneel before the thrones. She smiled at Boromir, then took the crown on her left and, placing it gently upon his head, said, "And think, this heart, all evil shed away. A pulse in the eternal mind, no less. Gives somewhere back the thoughts by Gondor given - her sights and sounds, dreams happy as her day, and laughter, learnt of friends, and gentleness, in hearts at peace, under a Gondorian heaven."

The crowds cheered wildly, and Anira turned to Faramir to place the second crown on his head while saying, "Soul, heart, and body, we thus singly name, are not in love divisible and distinct, but each with each inseparably linked. One is not honour, and the other shame, but burn as closely fused as fuel, heat, and flame."

The hall broke into applause, and Anira stepped back and declared with a smile, "Love is the heaven's fair aspect, love is the glory of the earth, love only doth our lives direct, love is our guider from our birth."

Through the cheers following Anira's words, both Boromir and Faramir rose and stepped before their thrones to take their seats.

Meltirn and the other elf retreated with Anira to the base of the stairs, where all three of them knelt and bowed their heads.

All present followed their example, and for a long moment, reverent silence lay over the hall as all knelt with their heads bent low to honour their new rulers.

Boromir looked to Faramir and reached out his hand. "My love," he whispered.

Faramir took his hand and squeezed it. "And mine," he replied softly.

They stood, and Boromir called all to rise once more, while Faramir went down the steps and took Anira's hands to help her back to her feet.

She laughed softly at him, and might have ruffled his hair had he not borne such a grand crown.

Boromir came to stand beside them and took Faramir's hand in his. And with a smile, he raised it and kissed it.

The hall exploded into shouts of, "Long live Boromir and Faramir, Kings of Gondor!"

Boromir raised one arm to silence all, and called out, "Break out the ale and wine, and sing to your hearts' content! We have much to celebrate this day."

And Gondor did celebrate. For many days and nights, for never in living memory had the future looked as bright as it did then.

THE END

* Wedding Vows: Elizabethan poet Sir Philip Sidney's "My True Love Hath My Heart"
** Anira's words spoken at the coronation were from:
"The Soldier" by Rupert Brooke (amended excerpt)
"Love's Trinity" by Alfred Austin
"Love Is The Heaven's Fair Aspect" by Michael Drayton