When Faramir was merely two years old, Boromir's seven years of age represented, at least to the baby boy, all the wisdom of the ages. And not only did he think Boromir wise, but also brave and kind and indeed everything wonderful.

His tiny mouth had been able to form his brother's name, or something sounding very much like it, before it had been able to say anything else; long before it could say 'mama', and a very long time before it could say 'papa'.

"Bomir!" Faramir would call out, stretching his short arms as he stumbled forwards, knowing Boromir would catch him as surely as he knew how to breathe. He thought, when he was merely two, that this was what his brother's arms were for: to catch him and hold him and keep away all things that might harm him.

And Boromir always caught him, because he knew that Faramir needed to be protected, and who better to do it than the one who loved him most. "All is well, little one," he would coo soothingly, holding Faramir tight. "I'm here."

And indeed, he was always there for Faramir. No one could keep them apart for any length of time, and they grew up together like two vines intertwining and supporting each other. Faramir was slighter and more sickly than Boromir, but even though Boromir did much of the protecting, Faramir was a support to his elder brother as well, for he made him feel needed and loved more than anyone else ever could.

When Faramir hurt himself, Boromir tended to his wounds, no matter how small or serious. When he was sad, Boromir was there to comfort him. And when Faramir was sick, he let no one but Boromir sit by his side and stroke the dank curls from his fevered forehead.

"Don't go away, Boromir," Faramir would say with a hoarse voice and aching throat. His deep blue eyes - though unable to focus on much of anything - would gaze pleadingly at Boromir when night fell over Minas Tirith, and his feverish thoughts announced bad dreams.

And Boromir would smile at him and replace the cool, damp cloth on Faramir's forehead, saying tenderly, "I would never leave you, little one."

And Faramir would sigh and close his eyes, his limp fingers disappearing inside his brother's larger, more temperate hand atop the blankets, and he would fall asleep, secure in the knowledge that on waking, he would find Boromir leaning over him, his head lying awkwardly on the pillow beside his own.

And Faramir would wake with a smile on his face, and he would stroke Boromir's hair where it curled close to his own face, and he would slowly begin to get well.

When Faramir was fourteen years old, Boromir began to teach him how to fight with a sword.

He was a patient, gentle teacher, taking no notice of their father who often stood in the background, coaxing him not to treat Faramir with so much care. "There will be no one to protect and coddle him in battle," Denethor would say with a sneer.

But Boromir would, with a hand on Faramir's shoulder, respond, "And if he was not merely fourteen, father, he would know exactly how to protect himself. Alas, there will be no battles for him for some years yet."

And Denethor would walk away grumbling, and Boromir would give Faramir an encouraging smile and ruffle his copper hair affectionately.

Until one day, Faramir began to blush at such a caress.

And around the same time, Boromir's caresses became rarer, until they ceased altogether.

As the years went by, and despite a slight awkwardness between them, the brothers only continued to grow closer. They had lost their mother early on, and as Denethor made no secret of his lack of affection for Faramir, Boromir was his brother's only confidant.

And so it was that for Faramir's twentieth birthday, Boromir planned a short journey to the coast for the two of them. He knew instinctively that his brother would love nothing better than to celebrate the day away from home, and because there was nothing Boromir enjoyed more than to make his brother happy, he granted him his unspoken wish.

When he told Faramir of the journey, Faramir's eyes lit up like the Sea struck by the morning sun, and no more than a mutual smile passed between them as they realized their congruity of thought.

They left shortly before Faramir's birthday, travelling without escort, though to a safe part of the kingdom. There was much trade and shipping on the coast of Gondor, and Faramir had always talked of the Sea, and of how much he longed to see the busy lanes leading to the harbor and the way the sun would slip silently behind the ocean when night was about to fall.

Boromir rode by his side, though slightly behind Faramir. He had taken to this habit years earlier, for it afforded him the opportunity to watch for any dangers that might lurk along their road. He could see both his charge and the surrounding area, and though he could not imagine anyone wanting to harm his kind-hearted brother, they were, after all, the children of the Steward of Gondor. This alone could prove a danger to their lives, for their father was a man who made enemies with ease.

"It is beautiful here, Boromir!" Faramir called out when they reached the summit of a lush green hill, and he caught his first glimpse of the harbour town of Alagos Cirban below. Then he raised his eyes and gazed into the distance, and an awed gasp escaped his lips. "Boromir, the Sea!"

Boromir rode up close beside him, and his eyes came to rest on Faramir's face. "Is it how you imagined it to be?"

"No," Faramir said, humbled. "It is much more." When he turned to face his brother, he was smiling, and the sinking sun stroked tender fingers over his youthful face, gilding the tips of his lashes and the cupid's bow of his finely moustached lips.

The sight took Boromir's breath away with violent unexpectedness. It surely was not the first time the sun had caressed Faramir's features in such a way, but Boromir could not remember ever noticing it, nor feeling such utter adoration deep inside himself upon gazing at him. He was shocked to his core.

"Come, Faramir. We must find our accommodations before night fall." Without waiting for a response, Boromir clicked his tongue and tucked at his horse's reins, and then he was riding towards the town below.

Faramir, confused by his brother's abrupt departure, rode after him down the hill and into the sleepy crowd of houses below, distraught that he had somehow caused Boromir offence.

The inn Boromir selected was a small but friendly-looking stone cottage near the harbour. He glanced at Faramir to ensure the accommodations met with his approval, but Faramir looked so disturbingly upset, he had to look away quickly.

It was no wonder considering his earlier display, Boromir chided himself silently, and he decided to make up for it by being all the more attentive in the days to come. As for his own confusion... he would think on that when he had leisure to do so. Later. Once they were resting comfortably in their beds, with at least one wall between them.

A stable hand appeared from behind the building and offered to take care of their horses. They dismounted, took up their bags, and went inside.

The smells of cooking, fine ale and old wood mingled with the sounds of much idle chattering and pots and pans clanging against a ceramic stove. But the place looked friendly enough, with a vast fireplace casting a bronze glow over the large public room.

The inn was busy, that was much certain, but even so, the proprietor came rushing to attend to them the instant they entered his abode. "Good evening and welcome, young sirs. What can I do for you? A table for supper, or a room for the night?"

Boromir tipped his head in greeting. "Good evening. My brother and I seek accommodations for a few days. Two rooms, if you please."

A frown distorted the happy face, but only momentarily. "I fear we've not got any extra room free, gentlemen."

Boromir's eyes widened, and he avoided looking at Faramir when he said, "You mean to say there is only a single room left?"

"Aye. But it's a good'un. Nice and cozy, with a roaring fire and a couple of down beds, to be sure." The inn keeper looked most pleased with what he could offer them.

Faramir's voice jolted Boromir from his reverie. "That will be fine, good man." And turning to his brother, he asked, "Will it not, Boromir?"

Boromir searched Faramir's face and saw there none of his own hesitancy. 'Of course it's fine,' he thought. And it was. Wasn't it? They had shared many a room before, a bed even, though not for many years. But all the same, this was no different. "We'll take it." Boromir spoke more confidently than he felt, and he noted that it instantly reassured Faramir, who gave him a slight smile.

"Follow me then, gentlemen," roared the inn keeper and picked up their bags as though they weighed nothing at all. He lead the two brothers down a dark corridor to the room at the very end.

"Let me help you, sir," Faramir offered and reached past the elderly man to turn the door knob. The movement caused his arm to brush past Boromir's, though he was ignorant of the way Boromir's eyes fluttered closed at the incidental contact.

"Why thank you, young man." The inn keeper heaved their bags upon a low bench beneath the panelled window and turned, his hands on his hips. "Well, what did I tell you?" he asked with great satisfaction.

The room was indeed cozy. It looked as though it had been prepared hours in advance of their arrival. The fireplace emitted a warm glow and the scent of pine cones used for kindling. Some candles had been lit and placed on the window sill and on a small table between the two sturdy oak beds; they were casting deep orange slivers of light across the polished floor and the deep blue rug in the centre of the room.

"A perfect room indeed," Faramir said, putting a broad smile on the proprietor's rounded face.

Boromir, whose eyes were fixed on the beds - standing altogether too close - as though drawn there by some black magic, croaked his agreement.

"T'is not quite supper time yet, young sirs, but I'll be glad to bring you something to your room. You look as though you've had a long trip."

"We have indeed," Boromir admitted, and with an effort, he focused on the events at hand. "I think both my brother and I would be glad to eat in our room, if it is not too much trouble."

Faramir smiled and nodded, then walked to the window and peered through the clear top panel above the stained glass. "I can see a little bit of the Sea."

"Aye," the inn keeper agreed. "If you open the window, you'll smell it, too." He chuckled. "But then you'll be freezing and that won't do you no good."

Faramir laughed. "Indeed it will not. We shall look at it tomorrow, shall we not, Boromir?"

Boromir nodded and smiled.

"Pardon me, I cannot help but note your name, sir." The inn keeper peered at Boromir curiously. "Boromir - that's the name of our Steward's son."

"At your service, good man." Boromir bowed slightly.

"Well! And his younger brother?" Gazing curiously at Faramir, who still stood beside the window but was now facing back across the room, the inn keeper gushed, "Honoured to be providing you gentlemen with accommodations, I'm sure! Why, I must go tell the missus." Scurrying to the door, he called back, "And I'll be bringing you back a feast, oh yes I will."

"There is really no need to fuss! We will be content with the usual fare--" Faramir called after him, but was silenced by the thick wooden door slamming into the lock.

Boromir laughed. "Never mind, Faramir. This is a small inn. The 'feast' will likely be a hunk of bread with some cheese."

Faramir chuckled. He untied his cape at the neck and folded it over the nearest chair. "Truth be told," he admitted with a glint in his eyes. "I'm starved enough for a feast."

"Yes," Boromir agreed flatly, carefully avoiding Faramir's eyes as he removed his own cape and riding gloves and placed them beside Faramir's. "I wonder if we can trouble the proprietor to bring us some water and a basin?"

Faramir had wandered into a recessed part of the room, down two small stairs, where he had spotted a simple but sturdy screen. He disappeared behind it. "No need, Boromir. It's all been provided for." He returned wearing a wistful smile, and stopped on the second stair, surveying the room. "Is it not odd that such small, basic accommodations are a thousand times more homely than the palatial rooms we have at home?"

Boromir noted the sadness flashing across Faramir's face, and he stepped close to place a hand on his brother's shoulder. "There is nothing to prevent us from seeking a refuge such as this whenever our duties allow it, Faramir."

His soft words and touch brought the smile back to Faramir's lips in an instant. "You are right, Boromir." He lowered his eyes and added quietly, "Thank you."

"Faramir?"

"For this gift," Faramir said softly. "No one but you could ever so unfailingly choose the perfect way to make me happy."

Boromir's head swam, and a lump formed in his throat, when Faramir's eyes rose once more to meet his own. "I..." he began, expecting the muttered sound to vanish down the endless blue depths of his brother's eyes.

A slightly smaller hand came to rest atop his own, and Faramir used the leverage to pull himself up the last step to stand level with Boromir. "I am famished," he said unexpectedly, his voice sounding, to Boromir's ears, a little rougher than usual.

"You... what do you..." Boromir started, but silently cursed himself for a fool when he realized Faramir had already continued speaking.

"...wonder when we can expect our feast."

"Ah yes, the feast." Boromir felt greatly relieved when the hand vanished together with the too intimate gaze, and Faramir returned once more to the window to look out at the Sea.

A knock on the door startled Boromir, and he called out, "Enter!"

The beaming inn keeper appeared in the doorway, precariously supporting a large tray with one hand and his protruding belly. "The missus outdone herself, gentlemen. I think you'll like what I have here."

"I'm sure we will," Faramir called out, approaching.

"Let me help you with that," Boromir offered, but the elderly man would have none of it.

"There's no need for that. I'll just be putting this down on the table right here." He set the tray down with a thud, and pulled the gingham food cover away with a pride-filled flourish which had Faramir nearly splitting his face.

Boromir noted his brother's amusement and quickly stepped forward to distract their host. "Why good man, this is indeed a feast, just as you promised."

A sunny smile was his response, and the chubby face reddened even further. "Aye. I don't make no idle promises, Master Boromir." Wiping his hands on his apron, he waddled back toward the door. "Enjoy then. I expect you'd rather have me pick up the dishes in the morning?" He smiled. "You'll be wanting to get some sleep soon."

"Yes, thank you." Boromir nodded, the thought of going to bed suddenly making him uneasy.

By the time Faramir sat down at the table, the lock of the door had clicked shut, and they were alone.

"It does look wonderful." Faramir gazed longingly at the platters of food but didn't help himself to any of it.

Boromir joined him at the table and they exchanged a smile. "You know, father is not here with his silly rule that the elder brother is to be served first."

"No," Faramir agreed with a smile. "But I like the custom, to be honest." And while Boromir was distracted by his own embarrassment, Faramir proceeded to pile his brother's plate high with crusty herb bread, scrambled eggs, sausages, mustard, tomatoes and mushrooms.

"Good heavens, enough! Faramir!" Boromir laughed. "There will be none left for you."

"There will be plenty. I believe our host has provided us with food for our entire stay, right here on this tray." Faramir chuckled.

While they ate, they made plans for their stay in Alagos Cirban. They were going to spend the next morning walking along the seaside, and in the afternoon, they would visit the ruins of the cliff-top castle they had spotted from afar on their arrival. As for the day after that - that was Faramir's birthday, and Boromir suggested that perhaps they might ask their friendly host if they could be taken out on a boat by some of the local fishermen.

"Oh Boromir, what a wonderful idea!" Faramir's eyes lit up. "Though I wonder..." He looked thoughtful.

"It is your birthday, Faramir. We will do only what you wish," Boromir assured him. He lifted his glass to his lips and sipped some of the fine mulled wine shimmering burgundy within it.

"I would love to go out on a boat, Boromir," Faramir quickly reassured his brother. "I was merely wondering whether there was some way we could go out by ourselves. You and I, alone."

The wine suddenly tasted sweeter, but then a bitter taste assaulted Boromir's tongue. He hoped with desperation that his expression would not give away how Faramir's words had affected him.

Once, when they had been younger - and if Boromir lied to himself, maybe until this very day - he would have taken such words to mean that Faramir simply felt safer with him than with anyone, and that their rapport could not be shared with another soul. But now... what accursed twist of fate had decided that he should read another meaning into them? A meaning his innocent brother could not possibly be intending.

You and I, alone...

"Boromir?"

Faramir's concerned voice dispersed the mists of confusion in Boromir's mind, and he managed a crooked smile. "Yes," he said.

Faramir laughed out loud. "Yes? Oh brother, you seem in a dream today. If it is a pleasant one, I wish you would share it with me."

Boromir set down his cutlery and studied his brother while mulling over his words. He thought that if he could simply look at Faramir, if he could determine why so suddenly, his world was tilting whenever Faramir gazed at him or smiled at him, then perhaps he would understand how he could fight what would hurt them both if he allowed it to surface. But the longer he focused on the gentle smile and trusting eyes of his brother, the more conclusive it all became - it was too late. At least for him. Perhaps it was several years too late and he had not even noticed when doom had first begun to descend upon him.

Faramir began to look distressed at his brother's silence now, and Boromir made his decision. It might be too late for him, but he would not let it hurt Faramir. He would not hurt Faramir. Not for anything in this world, or beyond it. With a monumental effort, he smiled at his brother.

"I have been pondering, dear Faramir, where I might procure a birthday gift for you, here in this tiny place. For I've found none suitable in Minas Tirith."

Faramir looked fairly mollified then. "I already have my gift, Boromir. Why, what more could I want..." He reached across the table and squeezed Boromir's hand where it lay motionless next to his plate. "...when I have the most loving brother any man could have?"

The Sea rolled onto the beach with soothing monotony. And now that the lively small town was quiet and completely dark, Boromir - lying in the cocoon of his soft down bed - could hear it as well as imagine how it must look... the moon would be glinting silver off the rolling surface, stars would be twinkling from above and wink back from below, and any disorder men had wrought on the beach during the daytime would be washed away as though it had never been. Out to Sea and away.

If only his cares could be swept away so easily. He listened to Faramir's even breaths, punctuated by a tiny sigh every once in a while. Boromir smiled at this peculiar pattern of his brother's sleep, for it had been so since Faramir had been a babe. In fact, Boromir had always been able to tell when Faramir was unwell by the absence of the sighs.

Opening his eyes, Boromir could just make out his brother's features in the remnants of light from the dying fire. Faramir was lying on his side, facing Boromir. A few copper curls had fallen across his pale cheek, but beneath them, Boromir thought he could see a slight smile. A smile of his own tweaked at Boromir's lips, for such a contented expression was far from usual for Faramir, who tended towards melancholy. Boromir made a silent vow to take Faramir away from the gloom of their home whenever he could.

Another sigh, and a slight pursing of the smiling lips, before they once more relaxed in sleep.

Boromir's chest tightened. How many more times would they be able to leave Minas Tirith together before one of them was sent to some far off kingdom to escort back a bride chosen by their father? He himself had already been through a number of arguments about the matter, refusing steadfastly to marry at all. Thus far, Denethor had grudgingly accepted his reluctance, but for how much longer, Boromir did not know. And considering their father's contempt for Faramir, it was only a matter of time before he would choose a match for him that would allow to settle Faramir some place far away... "I will not let that be!"

"Boromir?"

Boromir jolted. He realized Faramir's eyes were open, blinking sleepily at him. And he also realized he had spoken his thought out loud.

"Boromir, what is wrong?" Faramir climbed from his bed and crossed the short distance between them to sit on his brother's bedside. He rubbed his eyes, then focused on Boromir as best he could.

Boromir grappled for an explanation, and distracted as he was by the sudden closeness of Faramir's warm body dressed in a nothing but a thin sleep robe, leapt on the first which came to him. "A dream, Faramir! Merely a dream." He smiled as reassuringly as he could, resisting the temptation to cover Faramir's hand with his own where it rested on his arm.

But Faramir did not let go so easily. "What manner of dream? You look greatly disturbed."

Boromir sat up, escaping the light touch of his brother's hand as it slid off his loose sleeve. "Nothing to worry about," he said firmly. "Back to bed with you." He winked, but Faramir looked worried.

"Boromir, you have been acting odd all day," Faramir said with a trace of accusation in his voice. And worse, adding with something like disappointment, "And you are keeping something from me, which you never do."

Boromir closed his eyes in frustration. "I am sorry, Faramir. But my distraction is of a kind you could not help me with. Better then not to worry you, would you not agree?"

"No." Faramir did not need to think about his answer. He gently placed his hand on Boromir's chest, feeling as much as hearing the sharp intake of breath. "Whatever is amiss, it affects you greatly, Boromir. Your heart is beating like a blacksmith's hammer." He sighed. "Please, brother. I cannot bear secrets between us."

Torn, Boromir sighed, the feel of Faramir's hand against his chest emphasized by the smooth fabric of his tunic, rather than dulled. His vague, undefined new unease around Faramir suddenly took terrifyingly clear shape when his mind supplied an image of that touch turning into a caress, of Faramir leaning forward, soft lips hovering barely above his own... He drew back sharply.

Faramir looked terrified.

Boromir knew he had to do something. Find an explanation, anything but the truth, though he could think of little worse than lying to his brother. "Something father spoke of to me before we left Minas Tirith weighs heavily on my mind," Boromir said without thought. Faramir seemed to be considering this. Feeling obliged to continue, Boromir said, "It concerns relations between Gondor and Rohan. But there is nothing for you to worry about. Politics, Faramir, that is all."

Alarm rose to Faramir's eyes, widening them, and Boromir knew that disaster had not been avoided after all.

"Father told you to marry the king's niece," Faramir said, his usually lyrical voice sounding flat and strained.

Boromir was surprised at the conclusion, but decided in an instant that he would have to use it, as he could think of none other than the unspeakable truth. Besides, the subject of a match with the king's niece had indeed come up in the past, so it was not so much of a lie after all. Still, he could not speak it out loud, with Faramir's gaze upon him like this. He simply nodded.

Faramir lowered his eyes, and Boromir felt in his heart that instead of giving reassurance, he had inadvertently hurt Faramir even more. Though how, he was not certain. "I do not intend to agree to the match, Faramir," Boromir said softly, tilting his face until his own eyes met his brother's, and Faramir raised his face once more to him, looking almost hopeful.

"What if father forces you?"

Boromir smiled. "Have you ever known me to allow father to force me into anything?"

"No." Faramir returned the smile. For an instant. Then he looked serious once more. "I have heard that Eowyn of Rohan is a famous beauty, and a strong and capable fighter as well. She would be a good match for a brave warrior like yourself, Boromir."

Boromir heard the words, but something in Faramir's eyes told him he was being tested rather than encouraged. It made him uneasy. "I have heard those rumours myself, Faramir," he said as lightly as he could. "But I have no intention of marrying Eowyn of Rohan, or any other fair maiden father may have in mind for me."

Faramir's sigh of relief was clearly audible in the still room. "I am glad," he said very softly, then added with a fearful look at Boromir. "I do not wish to be separated from you, Boromir."

Boromir smiled, and though he knew he should not, he leaned forward and drew Faramir into a loose embrace. "Nor I from you, sweet brother." When he felt Faramir's breath against his neck and began to notice the scent of his warm skin, he quickly withdrew and gave him a crooked smile. "Go back to bed now. We have a long day ahead of us."

Faramir's lips parted, as though he wished to say something more, but then he nodded. "Good night, Boromir." He quickly and silently moved back across the few feet separating them in slumber, and slipped into his bed.

Boromir watched him, resigning himself to a long night, for he felt certain that with Faramir's own shifts of mood and unspoken secrets to add to his own, sleep would remain elusive.

When morning came and Boromir awoke with a smile, he knew at once that he had managed some sleep after all, for what had occurred during the night, following his conversation with Faramir and their awkward embrace, could only have been a dream. With a deep sigh, he turned towards his brother's bed, and found it empty.

"Faramir!" He sat up quickly. Had he called his brother's name in his sleep? Had he spoken out loud? Perhaps things better left unsaid? His eyes began to scan the room.

"I am here, Boromir."

Relieved, Boromir turned towards the familiar voice. He watched the slight form uncurl on the window sill and stand to face him. There was a smile playing about Faramir's lips.

"You slept like a stone last night, Boromir. Not even our rumbling inn keeper has managed to rouse you." Faramir pointed out the tray of food on the table which had replaced the empty one from the previous evening. "It appears breakfast is as much of a feast in these parts as supper," he said with mirth in his voice.

Boromir smiled and suppressed a yawn. "Just as well. What have we there?"

"Broiled eggs and bacon, green beans fried with onions and herbs, and the finest tea I have ever tasted." Faramir grinned. "The tea is all I have tried. Though had you not woken now, I would have had to feast on my own, or else wake you as you used to wake me. Do you remem--" He stopped, suddenly flustered.

Boromir knew well why. Some childhood memories could come back to haunt one in adulthood, and the method he had once devised to wake Faramir from deep sleep was a very different matter between children to what it was between grown men, and brothers no less.

"I do remember," Boromir said, barely audible, though right after waking, he fervently wished he could not recall so vividly, for the image of himself leaning over a sleeping Faramir, lightly pinching his brother's nose so he would gasp for air, and covering his mouth with his own in a quick, playful kiss, did nothing to disperse the tension still lingering in his body from his blissful dreams. How was he to leave the safety of his bed now?

Thankfully, Faramir passed a plate of food to him that very instant, saving him from deep embarrassment.

"I cannot believe this delicious scent has not roused me," Boromir murmured distractedly, and Faramir smiled in return, though he appeared to be far away, deep in thought. Boromir remembered his words to Faramir, just before going to sleep for the second time. Yes, this might indeed become a long day.

Faramir's childlike joy at seeing the ocean spread out before him like a messenger of eternity, at feeling the spray of it on his flushed face and the crunch of sand beneath his boots, almost made Boromir forget that his brother was now far from being a child. Almost, but not quite.

"Had I known you would enjoy it so much, I would have taken you here long ago!" he called out to Faramir, who had once more ventured to the very edge of the water, tempting it to lap around his booted feet, then laughingly jumping out of the way before it could quite reach him.

"Nay, Boromir! It is just as well. Only a few years ago, I might have built sand castles instead of simply walking along the beach, embarrassing you beyond belief." Faramir laughed, avoiding a wave.

Boromir joined in his laughter, catching his brother's rapid flight from the oncoming tide and lifting him out of harm's way - a move which left him to take the brunt of the onslaught of cold and wet just as Faramir landed on his feet again on the edge of dry sand.

Faramir laughed and wound out of Boromir's hold. He jumped backwards, and pure delight and mischief were on his youthful face.

Boromir was captivated by the sight, barely even taking note of the dampness on his cape and boots as he pursued his brother back up the beach. "When did you become such an imp, Faramir?" he called in mock accusation, but Faramir only continued to smile, remaining still in his place now and awaiting his brother's inevitable revenge.

Boromir stopped within mere inches of Faramir, and though he knew he ought to get his own back in some playful, childlike way to disperse the lingering tension, all he could think to do was to gather Faramir once more in his arms and kiss him senseless, kiss him until the drops of moisture glistening on their faces would trickle to their joined lips to be lapped up by a darting, tasting tongue...

That, of course, he could not do.

Faramir waited another moment, before turning and resuming a more leisurely and grown-up way of walking down the beach, unaware of the pounding of his brother's heart as Boromir fell into step beside him.

"The castle ruins..." Faramir said after some moments. "Do you know where we ascend to reach them?"

Boromir swallowed, glad of a neutral topic to speak of. "There is meant to be a walkway leading up from the beach. It is sign-posted and, from what our host told me, so steep and hazardous, it is also clearly marked as to be avoided."

Faramir smiled at him, and Boromir smiled back, and when they reached the ancient steps leading almost vertically upwards through a maze of dried bushes and crooked trees, they both eagerly began their climb, Boromir following his brother as was his habit, should he be needed to catch Faramir's fall. On the way up, he kept a careful eye on the sky above, where dark clouds had begun to gather like a menacing crowd of druid priests.

A brittle rail made of thin branches and worn rope wound its way upwards beside the steps for the few who dared the ascent. With its assistance, the two made it to the top just as it began to drizzle.

Faramir took a deep breath and turned to face Boromir.

"Do you wish to turn back?" Boromir asked. "I believe the rain will grow heavier still."

As if to prove him correct, the sky opened up in a burst of lightning, and the rain began to fall in heavy sheets.

Faramir smiled, unperturbed, and blinked the water from his eyes. "Too late to turn back, I think."

Boromir agreed, and with a hand on Faramir's arm, steered him towards the ruin only fifty yards or so away. By the time they reached the remnants of stone pillars and broken, ancient halls, they were running and laughing.

"There must be something here whole enough to provide some shelter!" Boromir called out to be heard over the noise about them. His keen eyes scanned the labyrinth of marble and stone, until he spotted an arched doorway, almost perfectly intact. He drew Faramir towards it, and with a triumphant yelp, his brother fell back against Boromir the moment they reached the makeshift shelter.

Pressed close like that, they were mostly protected from the rain, though left to shiver and soaked to the skin.

"We'll freeze to death, standing still like this," Boromir declared, though standing with Faramir's back firm against his chest, red-blond curls tickling his chin, he found he scarcely cared. At least until he noted the continuous tremble of chill wracking his brother's slighter form. "You're freezing already!" he exclaimed in horror.

Faramir turned his face to look up at him over his shoulder. "Only a little. Though I suspect I will only chill you further, Boromir, and I see no need for us both to be cold." With those words, he moved forward, breaking their body contact.

Boromir would have none of it, and drew Faramir back against himself with one hand on his brother's shoulder, the other over his chest. "We will both freeze less this way."

This time, Faramir relented, and sank into the warming embrace with a soft sigh of gratitude.

And that was when Boromir realized his mistake, though too late to make amends. He stared over Faramir's shoulder into the rain, praying it would cease soon before he grew entirely too accustomed to the feel of the strong heartbeat beneath his palm and the salty scent of sea and rain in Faramir's hair.

But nature being nature, it would not ease his pain until it felt inclined to do so, and there seemed to be no plans for it. Boromir was forced to drink in his brother's closeness like a forbidden potion, sweet and tempting and slowly fatal all at once.

"This is almost like being children again," Faramir murmured, his voice cracking a little as tough he was nervous. Still, he pressed back into Boromir's embrace, unaware of how his brother gritted his teeth when the rain slick cape on Faramir's back slid sideways and revealed a painfully seductive strip of pale flesh at the base of his neck.

Boromir gazed at the vulnerable spot until the urge to lower his lips to it was almost unbearable, and without thinking, he said roughly, "No, it is not."

Faramir stiffened in his embrace and tried to turn around, but Boromir did not allow it. He tightened his grip on Faramir's shoulder and his lips moved inexorably closer, until he was but an inch from the soft spot of skin, and with another exhale, Faramir could feel his proximity.

They both stood very, very still then, and despite the pounding rain all around their tiny shelter, their combined breathing now seemed as loud as a continuous rumble of thunder.

Boromir wanted to draw the cloak back into place on his brother's shoulder, hiding the temptation, but was compelled to simply stare and hunger. Why would this cursed rain not stop? Why would Faramir not stop breathing so heavily... so seductively... If he diverted his eyes only a little, he could see the flutter of Faramir's pulse at the base of his throat... and had Faramir's heart sped up its pace beneath his palm? It was too late to turn back. Boromir's lips, hot and dry from the blood rushing through his body, sank to the cool, damp skin.

Faramir inhaled sharply, shuddering all over. But he did not draw away. He sank bonelessly back against Boromir's chest, his neck arching until his head came to rest against his brother's shoulder where their wet hair mingled like the drops of rain on their skin.

A low growl escaped Boromir's throat, and he abandoned the sweet spot of flesh in favour of the pale curve of Faramir's neck. Meeting no resistance, he traveled up its length, feverish with years of hidden desires, panicked with the thought that at any moment, Faramir would come back to his senses and push him away in disgust and never look at him again. And if that was to be, he would need this moment to last in his memory until the day he died. He would need this one intimacy. This one caress. This one... kiss.

Releasing Faramir reluctantly to turn him in his hold, Boromir clasped his brother's face in his hands and hungrily captured the soft lips with his own.

Faramir's arms wound around his middle, and with a cry of surrender, his lips parted under Boromir's questing tongue.

How much sweeter than he ever could have guessed, so much sweeter than anyone should taste. Such was Boromir's last conscious thought before he sank himself into Faramir, body and soul. All his longing, his forbidden desires, were mirrored in the taste of Faramir's mouth, vulnerable and open for him, begging him to possess what he had yearned for so much.

Faramir gripped Boromir's vest more tightly beneath his cape, scrunching it in his fingers, and Boromir cradled his brother's head, water dripping through his fingers. His tongue twined around Faramir's, he drank his breath, tasted him, but they could not get close enough like this. Nothing would ever be close enough anymore.

Boromir withdrew his right hand and placed it on Faramir's hip, gripping him tightly while pushing forward.

Their moans mingled in each other's mouths, deep and urgent.

Faramir was pressed hard against the cool, damp stone, but he did not care. When Boromir allowed himself to draw a deep breath and gaze at Faramir for a moment, his younger brother stood before him trembling, flushed and panting hard, his hair framing his face in wet tendrils.

Boromir sighed and combed back a few locks, his eyes worshipping every inch of his brother's face.

The heated gaze stirred Faramir's blood as much as their kiss had done. He raised his face and offered his lips again, shifting one leg to slide along the outside of Boromir's, begging for closer contact.

They drowned in another kiss, entirely forgetting about the wind and the rain and the cold. Their bodies, where they touched, were on fire, and Boromir's searching hand was drawn to the hottest place of all - the centre of Faramir's body, writhing rhythmically against his own.

Boromir's hand struggled with the layers of cloth and laced fastenings on Faramir's garments, until it found its way inside.

Releasing his breath with a harsh sound ending in a groan, Faramir shuddered against his brother's body, no longer master over his own. Feeling Boromir's lips against his neck and his hand closing around his weeping arousal, Faramir began to fall, much too fast. He wanted to make it last, so much. He reached down for his brother's hand to slow its strokes, but Boromir stopped completely.

Faramir moaned in frustration, then flushed hotly as Boromir released him and gripped his hand, folding it around Faramir's manhood and covering it once more with his own.

Their joined touch seemed the most erotic thing on earth to Faramir, yet when he finally came, trembling uncontrollably, it was because Boromir's own, confined release against his hip was accompanied by a harsh groan, then soothed by Faramir's name whispered in a broken voice.

The rain eased slowly - perhaps minutes, perhaps hours later. Faramir could not tell the passage of time, nor did he care if it passed at all. They were clutching at each other, and when he instinctively felt that Boromir was about to withdraw, knew he would see guilt and perhaps even shame on his brother's face, Faramir decided to, for once, protect his elder brother from himself.

He reached to cup Boromir's face and kissed him with all the tenderness he felt in his heart. He kissed him until neither of them could breathe anymore, then released the swollen lips with a soft, moist sound. He felt a drop of rain, or perhaps a tear, fall from his brother's lashes to his own cheek.

"I do not know what to say," Boromir whispered, sounding so helpless, it stirred Faramir's heart.

"Then say only what you feel, Boromir," he said tenderly.

Boromir gazed down into the sweet, familiar face as though seeing it for the first time. And in a way, he did, for it was no longer simply the face of his beloved brother, but that of his lover as well. "I think..." he began, but Faramir shook his head.

"I wish to know your feelings, not your thoughts."

Boromir might, at another time, have been amused at Faramir's sudden initiative. But right then, he could do no more than obey. "I feel wonderful and terrible. I feel I am soaring high into the heavens, and yet I have fallen into darkest doom. I feel as though I will live forever, and yet wish to die this very moment. And most of all..." Boromir struggled to speak through the cloud of sadness darkening Faramir's face. "I feel that my heart will burst if I do not tell you how much you mean to me, my sweet, darling brother."

As if by magic, the cloud lifted, and Faramir smiled. "To think how desperately I have tried not to let you see. How afraid I was...."

Boromir's eyes widened. "Faramir?" He swallowed. "Faramir, do you--" The question was too important to finish it.

Faramir smiled. "I do not remember a time when I did not."

Boromir was still unsure, unable to believe that Faramir meant to say what he wanted to believe.

Sensing his brother's uncertainty, Faramir kissed him again, softly and tenderly. "I have always loved you, Boromir," he whispered against Boromir's lips. "You are my entire world."

Boromir sighed and held Faramir so close, he nearly pressed the air from his lungs. With his lips in Faramir's hair, he murmured, "We are brothers, Faramir."

A soft, rumbling chuckle against his breast lightened his heart. "Yes, Boromir. I know."

They were content to stand like that for a long while, and barely noticed how the light around them changed and the sun lazily drew back out from behind a cloud.

Finally, Boromir stood back a step and simply gazed into Faramir's face. It had not outwardly changed - beautiful and sweet as ever, so very dear to him. How it was possible, he did not know. Should not the whole world have changed within the past hour?

Faramir smiled up at his brother, then grew serious. "You look at me as though you love me," he said softly.

Boromir could answer that only one way. He leaned down and kissed Faramir, pouring all his love into that one, that perfect kiss. When he withdrew, he fixed Faramir's eyes with his own. "If you doubt all there is in this world, Faramir, never doubt my love for you."

Faramir swallowed hard, holding back his tears bravely. Though they would have been tears of joy, he did not wish to upset Boromir.

A frown appeared between Boromir's brows. "Father must never know. Never."

Faramir shook his head. "He will not. You and I, we have always been closer than anyone. To him, there will be no change."

Boromir placed his hands on Faramir's shoulders. "Do you know what he would do if he ever found out?"

Calmly, more calm than he had felt in his entire young life, Faramir nodded. "Yes." He reached up to stroke Boromir's cheek, smiled when Boromir leaned into the caress. "He will never know."

A sudden crackling sound in the distance jolted them both, and instinctively, Boromir pulled Faramir further into the archway, then sheltered his body with his own while he tried to see what, or who, had made the sound.

"There is someone else here, Faramir."

Indeed, a moment later, Faramir could see past Boromir's shoulder that a young man and woman were walking up to the ruins, their steps crunching on the damp branches the storm had blown across the clifftop from the forest nearby. They were laughing, having obviously been caught in the rain as well.

"We must leave here," Boromir said, and took Faramir's hand, drawing him back towards the walkway down to the beach.

Faramir followed without protest, and they made it there unseen, certain that the young couple would be unlikely to follow that path. Descending rapidly, careful not to slip on the wet steps, Boromir and Faramir returned to the beach, their damp clothes by then clinging to them and causing serious discomfort. The sun, which had reappeared briefly after the rain storm, was now departing for the night, and there was no warmth left in the air by the time they were even halfway down the beach.

They did not speak all the way back, though that did not matter. Since they had been children, they had communicated by thought nearly as well as by words, and their shared, reassuring smiles were sufficient now until they would be in the privacy of their accommodations.

When they entered the inn, dripping wet and shivering, the inn keeper's wife came running towards them, shrieking, "Oh, young sirs! You'll catch your deaths of cold, you will!" She ushered them down the hall to their room, her arms full of thick towels which had materialized somehow, instructing her eager husband to follow them with a tub and hot water right away.

Faramir was sneezing repeatedly by then, and Boromir found the urge to gather him close to share his remnants of warmth with him near irresistible. But he fought.

In moments, they were inside their room and the tub had been brought in and was being filled up with steaming water to which scented oil was added.

"Well then, get another, Godrin!" the woman instructed her husband. "They're both cold and wet, and t'is no good, having one tub for the two of them."

Boromir and Faramir tried hard not to look at each other, but they could not help it, and when their eyes met, there was mirth and fire there, and they quickly looked away again.

The rushed inn keeper had another tub brought in, and again, buckets of steaming water were carried in by two young men - his sons, most likely - and tipped into the wooden tub until it was filled three quarters full, just like the one facing it.

"Thank you," Faramir murmured, then sneezed again.

The inn keeper nodded, a look of concern on his face. "I'll be lighting the fire, too. Just you wait, Master Faramir, you'll be nice and warm again in no time at all."

Boromir, still fully clad in dripping cloak and boots, quickly removed Faramir's cloak, careful not to linger at that fatal spot of tempting skin where the leather string held it in place around his neck.

Faramir gave him a grateful look over his shoulder and, for an instant, Boromir was so powerfully reminded of a moment much like this earlier on, he nearly forgot himself and leaned forward to kiss his brother.

The inn keeper's voice broke the spell. "That'll be a roaring fire in no time at all. Now, do you want me to bring in some food for later?"

Boromir nodded. "That would be most appreciated. And thank you so much for your kindness." Looking around, he realized the woman had already departed, probably to prepare said food. "And please, thank your good wife for us as well."

The inn keeper grinned from ear to ear. "I certainly will, Master Boromir."

The door slammed shut, and they were alone.

Faramir let out a sigh, then sneezed again.

"Into the hot water with you!" Boromir ordered.

But Faramir hesitated. "He will be back with the food anytime soon."

Boromir smiled. "I will take if from him at the door. And that is where I will be waiting. Go on now." True to his words, Boromir quickly dropped his cloak on the nearest chair, and walked to stand beside the door, his back to Faramir the entire time, no matter how much he ached to turn back.

He heard the heavy sounds of wet clothing being removed and dropped in a soggy heap on the floor, and then he heard the water sloshing about in the tub. Then, a very soft, almost inaudible sigh of pleasure as Faramir's chilled body sank into the steaming water.

Boromir's blood was pulsing in his temples, but he did not turn. If the inn keeper should ask him on his return why he was as red as a beet, he would have to blame it on the now truly roaring fire the man had lit.

When the eagerly awaited knock came, Boromir tore the door open without preamble, making their host jump back a step. He heard Faramir's soft laughter in the background. With an expression of gratitude, he took the tray from the inn keeper's hands.

"Your brother is already in the tub then?"

"Uh... yes, he is." Boromir smiled.

"The wife says you're to leave your wet clothes outside the door by morning, and she'll hang them by the big bread oven out back. They'll be dry by midday." This was said with a big, pleased grin.

Boromir nodded. "That would be most appreciated. I fear we came here woefully unprepared."

"Never mind that. T'is what we're here for." The inn keeper bowed slightly. "Well then, good night, sir. I sure hope neither one of you will be catching cold."

"We will be quite well, thanks to your care, I am certain," Boromir reassured. "Good night."

"Good night, Master Boromir." And mercifully, the good soul departed back down the hall.

Boromir briefly set the tray down on a chest of drawers and locked the door, then he carried the food to the table by the window as steadily as he could manage and without a single sideways look at Faramir. His task was not eased by the sweet oils slowly filling the room, or the soft sounds of the water moving in the tub each time Faramir shifted.

"You need not avoid to look my way, Boromir," Faramir said, a smile evident in his voice.

Boromir laughed nervously. He had, obviously, seen his brother naked many times before, though not truly in the last few years. Not since Faramir was no longer a child. And not since the nature of his own affections for his brother had changed.

"Boromir..."

Embarrassed about his awkwardness, Boromir decided he could quite safely look at Faramir without lunging at him, and promptly nearly dropped the tray when he did turn. Somehow, it landed safely on the table with a clatter of dishes.

Faramir smiled.

"You are beautiful!" Boromir gasped before he could stop himself. He felt instantly foolish, but only made matters worse when he continued to stammer, "I knew this, of course, though I have not seen lately how..." He cleared his throat.

Faramir's smile lit up his eyes, which were dark and glistening in the fireglow playing over what little of his skin was bared above the water.

Boromir's eyes roamed over the slim but sleekly muscled arms resting on the sides of the tub, then traced the rounded curves of Faramir's shoulders to his softly heaving, almost hairless chest. When Faramir leaned his head back against the tub, stretching his neck but not breaking eye contact with his brother, Boromir groaned involuntarily, his eyes drawn to his brother's almost shamefully exposed Adam's apple.

Moving forward very slowly, his legs feeling weak as he did so, Boromir approached the side of Faramir's tub, where he knelt and raised a hand to just above Faramir's throat, not quite touching.

Faramir shifted impatiently as though he could feel a ghost of the touch.

How his brother managed to once again tempt him beyond reason with a simple strip of exposed skin was a riddle to Boromir, but as he placed his hand on the far side of the tub and leaned forward, his tongue was already snaking out to taste and devour the quivering protrusion.

Faramir arched into the caress with a gasp, his chest rising higher from the water, then sinking back again as Boromir laved his throat, licking upwards to the underside of his chin, where his path diverted to the side and trailed over the thin line of beard along Faramir's jaw, then his cheek, and towards the shell of his ear.

Faramir shivered despite the heat surrounding most of his body. He struggled to keep his eyes open, for he wanted to be certain he was not merely prey to a wonderful dream. When the tip of Boromir's tongue played with his lobe, then snaked up and into the maze of whorls, he groaned and tried to raise a hand from the side of the tub to touch Boromir.

But Boromir would not allow it, covering both of Faramir's hands with his own, leaving himself free to do with his lips and tongue as he pleased. The sounds he coaxed from Faramir with his tender but insistently erotic caresses made the blood pound in his veins, and he knew he never had nor would hear anything more beautiful in his life than those tiny whimpers and cries.

"You are like a song, Faramir," he whispered into his brother's ear. "A song more beautiful than even the elves could ever sing."

"Boromir..." Faramir gasped, and was silenced by Boromir's lips covering his own. Anything else he had meant to say, Boromir drank from his mouth. Faramir's neck arched backwards over the rim of the tub when the kiss grew more intense, and he felt Boromir's hands slide up to grasp his wrists, then caress his arms all the way up to his shoulders with gentle strokes.

Boromir's hands came to rest there, and after allowing Faramir to breathe once more, he leaned to kiss first one shoulder, than the other, before tracing the outline of Faramir's collarbones.

"Are you not cold yourself, Boromir?" Faramir whispered with an effort, and when Boromir paused to smile at him, he lowered his eyes meaningfully to the steaming water, then met Boromir's eyes again.

Boromir chuckled softly. "These tubs are barely large enough to hold one man. But you are right, I should warm myself up."

Amused at Faramir's whimpered protest, he stood and walked across to the second tub with a monumental effort of will. There, he dipped his fingers into the water experimentally and glanced at it thoughtfully.

When he was sure that Faramir's eyes were fixed on him to the point of seeing nothing else, he began to strip. Slowly. Removing a garment at a time, draping them over a chair, he held his brother's ever darkening blue gaze while his tall, lean form was revealed to it.

"Boromir!" Faramir gasped, his eyes wide and roving up and down his brother's body as though unsure where to look first. It was almost a relief when Boromir climbed into the other tub and settled down. "You... I..."

"Alone," Boromir finished, lying back in the hot water, his eyes holding Faramir's even through the hot steam filling the room. "Do you remember saying that yesterday? Just you and I, alone."

Faramir smiled softly. "Yes," he breathed. "Since I was a child, I have wished that the whole world would disappear, leaving only you and me."

Boromir inhaled sharply, the urge to return to Faramir's side and kiss him breathless almost insurmountable. "Right now," he said with a trembling voice. "Right now, there is no one but you and I. There will be no one else for this entire night. Faramir..." He swallowed hard. "I will make the world disappear for you."

Faramir's breathing was rapid enough now to be heard across the room. He nodded slowly. "Leave me only yourself, Boromir, and I shall be forever happy." He held his brother's eyes for a long, long time, tenderness and lust warring for the upper hand.

Boromir hurried to finish his bath as quickly as possible, then climbed out and wrapped a large towel around his hips. He took two more and deposited them on his bed, aware that Faramir's eyes were following his every move.

When he returned to Faramir's side and smiled down at him, Faramir returned the smile and rose to his feet, scented water pouring off his fire-lit body like rain off a statue.

Boromir's eyes travelled all the way down his lean body, resting for a moment on Faramir's sleek arousal, then up again, all the way to Faramir's face. There was a desire in his eyes mere words could never express.

Faramir reached for his brother's right hand and held it to his cheek, while his other hand cupped the back of Boromir's neck.

Leaning in for a kiss, Boromir's towel-clad hips made contact with Faramir's bare groin, and the sharp hiss into his mouth made him deepen the kiss. He wrapped one arm around Faramir's waist and drew him hard against himself, then let his hands slide lower over the warm, oil-slicked body until it rested hotly on the smooth curve of Faramir's buttocks.

Moaning into Boromir's mouth, Faramir struggled to get closer, but was hindered by the edge of the tub against his thigh.

Unexpectedly, Boromir's hold on him shifted, and before he fully understood what was happening, Faramir was swept up in his brother's arms and carried across to the bed, where he was gently placed upon the spread towel. He smiled coyly, both in amusement and because the chivalrous gesture was so undeniably Boromir.

Boromir returned the smile and knelt before him, picking up the still folded towel and, starting with Faramir's hair, dried him with soft, gentle strokes from head to toe.

Faramir swayed by then, comforted and soothed all over, and when Boromir drew the towel away, he collapsed forward into his arms.

With a laugh, Boromir steadied him and instructed, "Lie down, Faramir."

Faramir obeyed immediately, still warm from his bath yet trembling, for he was now entirely exposed to Boromir's appreciative eyes. When he felt a gently massaging touch beginning at the arches of his feet and moving upwards over his calves and knees, then to his thighs, he closed his eyes with a sigh, his legs falling open of their own accord.

Inhaling sharply, Boromir struggled to keep his roaming hands on their path, up over Faramir's thighs, his warm and inviting flanks, his belly, his ribs... He stood slowly, leaning over him as his touch moved upwards.

When Faramir felt the bed dip a little on his right, then between his spread legs, he opened his eyes again. Boromir was crouching over him, and seeing him like that, like a wildcat poised to pounce, Faramir held his breath. There was no point of actual contact between them, but the way their bodies almost touched made Faramir's mouth dry and his skin burn to be caressed. "Please..." he whispered.

Boromir shifted a little until his knee between Faramir's thighs softly bumped the very top of his brother's thighs. Faramir gasped, and Boromir took pity, leaning down for a kiss. Before their lips touched, he murmured, "Will you be mine, only mine, forever?"

"Yes," Faramir breathed. "There is nothing without you."

The kiss they shared was heavy with longing, sweet with love. And when it neared its end, Boromir lowered himself to lie fully on Faramir. They moaned in unison, and the kiss resumed with renewed vigor, with a desire as sharp as knives to spice it now.

Faramir reached around Boromir's middle, quickly loosened the towel and pushed it aside. He drew him close as he arched upwards against him, and hooking one leg over Boromir's hip, he began to rub against him.

Boromir fell into rhythm with him immediately, and between dazed kisses and nips, soft sighs and whispers, they barely noticed the trickle of moisture leaking between them, until a blinding shot of pleasure ran through Boromir's body, and he suddenly tensed, then grew slack with a moan.

Faramir sighed softly at the spreading dampness on his groin, then felt a thin trail of it slide lower as Boromir moved down his body. He whimpered at the momentary loss of Boromir's warmth all along his body, but when wet heat enclosed his arousal, his head snapped up and he groaned deeply.

"Boromir!" He supported himself on his elbows and watched, mesmerized, as his brother's wonderful mouth engulfed him and drew him over and over deep into his throat. "Boromir..." Rougher now. So close. "Oh!" He shuddered, pushing deeper involuntarily, but Boromir only sucked harder, and within moments, Faramir cried out, filling his brother's welcoming mouth. He fell back, panting hard.

Boromir swallowed, licked his lips, and leaned down to tenderly clean Faramir with his tongue, lingering where the salty taste was underlaid with Faramir's own fresh, musky scent. When he looked up, he saw tears roll down his brother's cheek. "My love," he murmured, gathering his brother in his arms.

Faramir sobbed against his shoulder. "I did not think such pleasure existed. I did not think we could get any closer than we already were." His voice sounded awed.

"We can get even closer still, Faramir," Boromir promised huskily. "We can be one, completely. Body and soul. Do you want that?"

"More than anything." Faramir shifted, and gasped when his sensitive, spent flesh rubbed against Boromir's thigh. "Boromir..." he began hesitantly.

"Yes?" Boromir cradled Faramir's head in the crook of his neck, stroking his damp hair while Faramir huddled in his embrace.

"I want to feast on you like that," Faramir said, blushing a little. "I want to do what you did to me." Encouraged by Boromir's low growl, he shifted until he lay partially across Boromir, and began to move down his brother's body. "I want to worship you the way you have worshipped me, taste you as you have tasted me."

Boromir could do no more than lie still on his back while Faramir made his words come true. The teasing tip of Faramir's tongue laving his chest and tracing his ribs, the tender, stroking hands up and down his sides and over and between his thighs, made him achingly hard again by the time Faramir reached his groin. Before the divine mouth began its slow, rapturous exploration, Faramir whispered reverently, "My beautiful brother..."

Boromir arched off the bed, careful not to hurt Faramir in any way. He reached down to stroke his hair, soothe his neck and shoulders, pet him tenderly. And finally, he could do no more than gasp and grip the sheets tightly between his fingers as he came in convulsive spurts within the warm cavern of Faramir's mouth.

Faramir suckled for as long as Boromir had anything to give, then he slid upwards and pressed close, tilting his face to share a kiss.

Boromir held him, kissing his forehead and stroking back the damp curls. "How I want to possess you, Faramir. Utterly," he murmured breathlessly.

Faramir gazed up into his eyes. "I am yours already, Boromir. Now make me a part of you."

Boromir sighed, his thumb trailing Faramir's cheekbone, then his lips. He knew of his brother's innocence, and the fear of hurting him weighed heavily on his mind. Suddenly, he had an idea, and turning them until Faramir lay on his back, he extracted himself reluctantly from his warm embrace. "Wait one moment, Faramir."

Faramir nodded, and watched as Boromir crossed the room to the small table beside one of the tubs, where he leaned down, examining a glass bottle of golden liquid. He smiled. "When I was a child, I thought you a god, Boromir," he said.

Boromir turned to look over his shoulder, his eyes wide. "Oh Faramir."

Faramir's smile widened, and took on a less than innocent quality. "Those who say children know nothing are wrong."

Boromir stood, and the bottle now dangled between his fingers. He smiled broadly, shaking his head. "Were I that, I would not feel as though I am about to defile an angel."

"Boromir..."

Faramir spoke his name with a longing deeper than the ocean, and his voice worked a magic on Boromir's qualms to made him cross the room back to the bed hurriedly.

Boromir set the bottle down on the sheets and stretched out alongside Faramir, resting a hand on his brother's hip. "My lover," he whispered. Realizing Faramir was breathing heavily now and trembling lightly along the length of his entire body, he added, "Do not be afraid."

Faramir smiled. "I am not." Leaning forward for a kiss, he added huskily, "But I am impatient."

With a low groan, Boromir pushed Faramir on his back and took his mouth in a deep, ardent kiss. Then he looked down at him and noted that his breathing had become even more rapid, and he smiled. "Turn on your stomach, Faramir."

Faramir obeyed without hesitation, stretching his arms above his head and turning on his right cheek.

"As much as I long to watch your face while I take you," Boromir explained. "It will hurt much less this way."

Faramir nodded into the sheets.

Following the smoothly curved line of Faramir's body with his eyes, Boromir shifted to support himself on his forearm, reaching for the bottle of oil with his free hand. He held it above Faramir's back and let a thin trail of oil drizzle onto his skin.

Faramir made a little mewling sound, and with a smile, Boromir began to massage the oil into the warm flesh, meaning to relax Faramir but finding no trace of tension in his muscles. So his brother was indeed not afraid...

Such complete trust nearly moved Boromir to tears. "I love you," he murmured, awed, and moved his hand lower to the small of Faramir's back.

Faramir sighed. "I love you too."

When Boromir reached Faramir's buttocks, he stroked with more pressure, and moaning softly, Faramir began to shift and press up into his touch and downwards into the sheets alternately.

Finding it suddenly hard to breathe, Boromir leaned further over and held the bottle above Faramir's backside. When he let the oil drizzle in a line from the small dimple at the top to the hidden space between the very top of Faramir's thighs, he was rewarded with a deep groan and a sudden arching upwards of Faramir's hips.

The movement allowed the oil to run into the breach of Faramir's buttocks, and while Faramir was distracted by the sensations, Boromir coated his arousal with the remainder of the oil and discarded the bottle.

Faramir's hips sank into the sheets again, and he was panting hard when Boromir straddled him, both hands on his buttocks and his arousal bumping lightly against him.

"Please..." Faramir murmured breathlessly. "Please... Please." He tried to lift his hips, but Boromir's weight held him in place. When tender fingers parted his buttocks and began a gentle search for his hidden opening, he sighed deeply, closing his eyes.

Boromir fought hard to keep his touches slow and careful, when he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in Faramir's warmth. His heart was pounding audibly and his hands were trembling, but he found what he sought and very, very slowly, he breached the tiny fissure with a single finger.

Faramir cried out, but there was no trace of pain in the sound and it was followed by his breathing growing all the more ragged.

Encouraged, Boromir added a second finger, and when that too was met with no resistance, he added a third and began to stretch the small opening gently.

Faramir's hips twitched, and he met the intrusion with more eagerness than wariness, his every movement encouraging Boromir to dare more.

"Faramir." Boromir's voice was rough with his slipping self-control. "Do you think you are ready for me now?"

Faramir nodded into the sheets, pushing back on Boromir's fingers.

Positioning himself carefully, Boromir supported his weight on both sides of Faramir's back and, very slow, slid a little way inside his brother's body.

Faramir whimpered, his thus far relaxed hands gripping the sheet tightly above his head.

Forcing himself to move slowly, Boromir continued, letting the pattern of Faramir's breathing guide his pace until he was all the way inside him. With a deep sigh, he stopped moving, and lowered himself to cover Faramir. He brushed the long locks from Faramir's nape, then moved his hands up over Faramir's arms until he could interlace their fingers.

Faramir moaned softly, shaking all over, and Boromir kissed his damp nape and drew out a little. Holding his breath, Faramir went rigid in anticipation, then grew slack as Boromir pushed in all the way again.

Boromir increased his pace slowly but steadily, and very soon, they were moving as well as breathing in perfect sync, with Faramir's hips lifting to meet his thrusts, and contracting around him when Boromir pressed him into the bed hard.

Faramir gasped and whispered Boromir's name over and over, his trembling hands growing damp with sweat and his fingers curling around Boromir's more tightly. His back, arching in an even rhythm with each thrust, held Boromir's eyes, entrancing him with the way the thin sheen of oil and sweat caught the warm light from the fire like liquid gold trickling down his brother's body.

Boromir began to move faster, spurned on by Faramir's utter surrender and unbelievable heat. His strokes, already easy from the abundance of oil he had used, grew slicker when he began to leak inside Faramir, and panting heavily, he paused in his movements, resting deep within Faramir's body and calming his brother's ragged breathing with tender kisses between his shoulderblades and on his nape.

"Can one die from pleasure, Boromir?" Faramir murmured dazedly.

Boromir closed his eyes and kissed the tender spot right under Faramir's left ear. "If one can," he whispered. "Then this is the sweetest death of all."

Faramir shivered when the warm breath moving over his ear stirred his damp curls. "I ask only that we may die this death together." He sighed. "And enter the heavens as one."

Boromir rested his forehead against the back of Faramir's neck, as close to tears as to release. "We have always been one, my love. And we always will be."

Faramir sobbed, though it was a joyful sound rather than one of sadness, and he turned his hands beneath Boromir's until their palms touched, before once more interlacing their fingers.

Boromir took a deep breath, and after placing a kiss among Faramir's curls, he began to thrust again - slowly at first, then faster, driving deep and hard, and when Faramir's breaths became shuddering and uneven, he pounded into his lover's body with abandon, each thrust met with a counter-thrust, each groan met with a whimper.

When Faramir stiffened beneath him, crying out and arching his neck as he threw back his head, Boromir found such sweet release inside Faramir's body that tears rolled down his cheeks, and with a sharp exhale, he called out his brother's name.

They slept soundly in each other's arms. Whenever Faramir woke for a few moments, he smiled and touched a finger to Boromir's lips, or caressed his cheek, and whenever Boromir awoke, he listened to Faramir's sigh-punctuated breathing, and with a smile, stroked back the disarrayed curls framing his brother's face.

The sun finally woke them both, and before they had even opened their eyes, their lips met and held in a slow, deep kiss.

Boromir opened his eyes first and smiled. "I wish you the happiest birthday of all time, Faramir," he said tenderly.

Faramir's eyes opened and he sighed, then snuggled closer. "May all your wishes come true as well as that one."

"All my wishes have come true last night," Boromir said, cupping the back of Faramir's head and stroking his shoulder and upper arm, before reaching to draw a blanket over them so they could doze a little longer. Neither gave a thought to their forgotten tray of food.

Standing on the beach that night, Faramir leaned back against Boromir with a sigh. They gazed at the reflections of stars on the water, and as there was no one else about that late, Boromir dared to wrap one arm around Faramir's middle and lean his cheek against the side of his head.

"It is no wonder that the elves feel the call of the Sea so strongly," Faramir mused. "Standing here, one almost feels eternal, as the elves are. Like a star, perhaps. Or like one of the Valar."

"There is one way only for a mortal man to become eternal," Boromir said thoughtfully. "To love with the force and depth of the Sea."

Faramir turned his head. "And to be thus loved." He lifted his face and met Boromir's eyes, and eternity shone out of them.

The End