Title: Stand Firm
Summary: Faramir muses on ancient battles.
Word Count: 300
The library was empty save for Faramir, who at the age of twenty loved nothing more than his studies, sitting alone in the light of the setting sun, a scroll in his hand. He was not reading it, but rather looking off into the distance, with the faraway air of one who thinks of deeds he never saw done.
Boromir paused in the doorway, hesitant to interrupt his brother's musings. At last Faramir breathed a long sigh, and looked over at him, seeming to see him for the first time.
"I was reading of the death of Fingon the Valiant in the Nírnaeth Arnoediad, surrounded by many foes, and the thought came to me to wish I had been there, and had seen such courage in battle displayed," he said softly, laying the scroll down.
Boromir shook his head, and walked over to Faramir, laying a firm but loving hand on his shoulder. "I hope for both our sakes that you never have to see or be in such a battle. If I could, I would protect you from all ills, and let your wistful longing never be replaced by hard experience."
Faramir laid his hand over his brother's, and gazed up at him solemnly. "Yet we both know that war will come, soon or late. All my life I've dreamed of it - the great wave that sweeps over all the lands. What can stand firm against such overwhelming disaster?"
Boromir smiled, clasping Faramir's hand with his own and raising him to his feet. "This Tower of Guard," he said with perfect confidence, and put an arm around Faramir's shoulders. "Fear not, my brother, if we stand together no wave can tear us apart."
Faramir gave him a worried look. "Then we must always stand together," he said. "Promise me."