{Timeframe: Year 2991 of the Third Age; Boromir-13 Faramir-8}

Lighting flashed as Boromir sat up straight in his bed. His breath was heavy and shallow as he looked around, the rain beating hard on the windows and roof above him. As his fears and mutters of “It was only a dream” subsided he soon took notice of a small, curled up lump in the covers next to him.
Prodding it softly he shook his head and sighed, “Faramir…” He whispered lightly, but to no avail as the lump slept in silence.
“Faramir,” He spoke louder but still nothing.
“FARAMIR!” Boromir blurted loudly but the rain deafened most of the scream and his brother simply rolled over.
“Ungh….what is it?” The boy asked groggily, rubbing his eyes with the whole back of his hand.
“Is there any particular reason you’re sleeping in my bed?” Boromir asked trying to sound more angry than he truly was, knowing large emotions got through Faramir’s thick skull faster.
“Uh…I-I Th-there was lightning…and thunder. You know how I don’t like thunder….”
To that Boromir simply rolled his eyes. Ever since Faramir could walk they put him in a room with his older brother.
It was not at all that their parents could not find space for the two of them in separate rooms, after all they did reside in the most prestigious place in Gondor. But more so that Faramir could not go a week without climbing into bed with someone for one fear or another.

The night passed and faded quickly into day once the two brothers had fallen back to sleep. Boromir rose groggily and tumbled onto the floor before at the sound of a pounding on the door. He shook his head, thinking it was just a dream until the knocking continued.
“Boys-if you don’t get up right now I’m going to come in there and get you up myself. You don’t want that now do you?”
Boromir blinked lightly as Faramir groaned into awakening. “No sir, we’re up.” Boromir called weak and got to his feet, getting dressed.
“What does he want now?” Faramir asked sitting up with a sigh, “For us to take over the world?!”
“Shhhhh-he’ll hear you,” Boromir hissed throwing clothes at his younger brother, “Now get dressed, so we can go into town before dinner.”

Going to town and market was one of Faramir’s favorite things to do with his brother. They got to see all of the oddities from around the whole of Gondor, and on some Saturdays things from all over Middle Earth.
So many different sorts of things, funny shaped vases, food, a zillion different colored fabrics and clothing, and expensive looking jewelry Boromir was convinced was fake. There were streets roaring with carts, one so dangerous that people were only allowed to cross over the mainstream on a bridge that flew over the traffic.
Faramir hated that bridge with a passion. It was wide enough but there were no railings along the sides. Father usually argued it was pointless to have a rail because the bridge was wide, and Boromir usually argued Faramir was just a baby. Either way, he’d always keep his head up high and hold his breath every time Boromir made him cross.

The two of them sat on a street curb eating a package of fried mashed potatoes they had picked up-ignoring the fact they had eaten an enormous breakfast only an hour or so ago. Faramir watched the crowd with wonderment before looking up at his brother, mouth slightly full.
“Hewy Burromir…” He said and then swallowed, “Think we’ll ever get stuck being city guards?”
Boromir smiled and poked the questioner in the spine, knowing the flinch he would see in return, “Naw, not me Ferret. I’m going to be a great warrior and you can….be my squire.”
Faramir seized up from the poke before frowning, “Father said he’d lock you in a closet if you call me that any more.” HE tried to look upset but his curiosity got the best of him, “…Say, Boromir, what’s a squire do exactly?”
“Follows knights around, carrying their swords, reading the scrolls, saying their entrances, cleaning their rooms … you know-all the stuff a knight doesn’t want to do,” Boromir gave a final nod as if it seal it’s truth.
Faramir prodded his brother in the side, “You’re making stuff up.”
“Am not, I read it in a book,” he said so standing up and yawning lightly, “we should be getting back…before Pop sends out a whole search team on us again.”
Faramir nodded and stood, wiping his greasy hands on his breeches as he finished his meal. Boromir grabbed his hand-much to Faramir’s dismay-and pulled him through the crowd moving toward the bridge. The street below was not particularly busy, but would still be harder to get across than sneaking food out of the kitchen back home.
Faramir pouted and protested as they neared the bridge, to the point Boromir nearly had to push him on to it. HE clung feebly to a lantern post and shook his head as Boromir started to leave but then turned back with a sigh.
“Gods above, you’re such a little baby Faramir. Like a little scared kitty, awe baby should go sleep in a crib.”
Faramir made a face, “I am not a baby, I just don’t like heights.”
“You don’t like thunder, you don’t like heights, you don’t like adults and you’re scared of swords. I couldn’t possibly be related to you.”
That was the trigger, Faramir stood up and let go of the post, “Fine, then I’ll show you how brave I am. Then maybe Pop will like me better than he likes you,” He started out on the bridge which was now nearly over flowing with people and Boromir followed him, but instead of even staying close to the middle like his brother did, he walked out on the edge. One foot in front of the other, perfectly spaced, balancing himself along the side of the bridge, Boromir moving after him, lightly afraid something would go wrong. FAramir slid his foot forward, hitting a crack and tripping as his brother grabbed his arm, the two of them slipping off the edge onto the roadway that lay beneath them.
Boromir’s head spun and pounded though he could hear a familiar far off voice calling to him. HE swam through black nothing toward the voice, once his head cleared he could feel someone shaking him. His eyes parted and his vision was blurred and red, he could see sky, now tented purple and his brother’s face. Suddenly his thoughts snapped together enough to realize he wasn’t breathing, and he promptly started again with a cough.
He sat up and looked at Faramir, he had a small cut on his temple, and his arm was twisted in an awkward way. Since Boromir made a face and soon found that he was in a side alley, the street next to him still roaring with carts and horses in a hurry to get nowhere.
“I think it’s broken,” Faramir said gesturing to his twisted arm, “but I can’t feel anything right now.”
“I….cannot…..feel..much myself,” Boromir said clutching his ribs, the breaths still not flowing easily to him, “Father is going to….kill me for sure.”
Boromir stood coughing a bit more before being able to breath normally, then offered a shaking hand to Faramir, who used his good arm to pull himself up. They stood in the alley for a moment as Boromir thought, lost in a sea of ideas before finding a side road to home. Father was not going to be pleased but it was cold outside, and they both needed healing so they had to start back home best they could, leaning on one another.

{Watch for more chapters, comming shortly.}