The Runaway by mistressminx_13
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b2memB2MeM Challenge: Prompt from me_llamo_berry - Young Faramir (5-15) is tired of being second best to his brother. He's tired of being belittled and punished for small things. He's tired of his father not understanding him. He's especially tired of his brother always having to protect him. He runs away. Does he make it out of Gondor? Does he ever come back? What happens to him in the end? If he comes back, why does he? Was it in vain; will anything change? It's all up to you.
Also, alternatively, how does Boromir feel about this? Does he miss his brother? Will he search, and/or obey his father? Will he help Faramir overcome it?
Title: The Runaway
Author: mistressminx_13
Format: Short Story (2,209 words)
Genre: General/adventure involving children
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Characters: Faramir and Boromir
Pairings: None
Summary: Faramir runs away.
Faramir sat at the end of the long table staring at his food. His brother, Boromir, sat across from him; and at the far end of the table sat Father, his mood dark as always. He found himself missing his mother once again. She had been gone for three years – three very long years. It still filled him with grief. He looked up as he was kicked gently underneath the table. Boromir shook his head no very slightly. Faramir nodded his thanks before looking down at his plate again.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful for his brother, he was, but he was tired of being protected. And he was tired of Father criticizing him. The worst part was, Faramir understood Father’s reasons for hating him. He looked too much like his mother. He loved books and music as she had. He was too slender. He wasn’t strong as his brother was.
Boromir had only started training this year and already had gained strength. His muscles were developing rapidly. Boromir had a hearty appetite, and training had only increased it. Father seemed to take pride in the fact that Boromir ate almost as much as a grown man. Whereas Faramir hardly had an appetite at all; it was just another thing that seemed to upset Father.
Since Mother’s death, the only thing that seemed to brighten Father’s mood was Boromir. It seemed his brother had no faults. He had a hearty appetite, he was skilled with a sword, he grew daily it seemed. Even when Boromir was found fighting amongst his peers, Father seemed proud. Father cared little that Boromir acted out of grief; he only cared that Boromir was strong.
Faramir would never be the son Father wanted. He tried, but he would never succeed. Faramir knew that even if his successes surpassed Boromir’s, he would never be accepted as Boromir was. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his brother, in fact, the opposite was true. He loved Boromir beyond measure. It was just that they were so very different. Boromir preferred his swords and roughhousing, and Faramir enjoyed the quiet of the library and song.
He missed his mother singing to him at night or when he didn’t feel well. He missed her gentle touch and the concern in her eyes. He missed her warm smile and lilting laughter. And most of all, he missed the way Father acted when she had been alive. Though he would not have called Father gentle, he was kind and generous towards both of his sons. Now that Mother was gone, he seemed to have eyes for only one.
It seemed to Faramir that when Mother died, Father had split himself into two different people. The firm, strong, guiding presence was directed toward Boromir and all the grief of losing his wife had turned toward Faramir. Faramir could not compete with the grief his father felt, nor could he compete with his brother. It seemed he had no choice.
As soon as Father stood and left the room, Faramir bolted from the dining hall. The place no longer held any joy for him. When Mother had been alive, she had insisted that they sit together as a family at the large table. She did not want to put such a large expanse of wood between them. They talked of their days, sharing each other’s joys and successes, and occasional failures at that table. Now, Father forced he and Boromir to sit at the far end of the table and talking was not allowed.
Faramir rushed down the hall and to his room. This was the only place he found solace anymore. Here he swore he could still smell Mother’s perfume, the delicate scent lingering in the air. Here the memories of his mother could overwhelm him and he could cry freely, without any thought of repercussion.
“Faramir?” called Boromir from the doorway.
“I’m fine, just leave me be,” Faramir replied.
But Boromir didn’t leave. Instead, he entered the room and pushed the heavy door closed behind them. He encircled his younger brother in a hug.
“I know you love her and miss her, little brother. So do I.”
“But Father doesn’t punish you for missing her,” Faramir complained as he struggled out of his brother’s strong grip.
“That does not mean that I miss her any less.”
“There is such agony in my heart that I do not know if it will ever stop.”
“One day it will.”
“You cannot promise that.”
Boromir sighed and sat down on the bed. “If I could make it better, I would. You know that, don’t you? If I could change things, I would. If I could somehow make Father behave differently, or if I could bring Mother back, you know that I would, right? You know that I would give anything to not see such grief in your eyes?”
Faramir hugged his brother tightly as the tears streamed down his face. “I know you would, brother, I know you would.”
Faramir didn’t doubt Boromir’s words. They had always been close. Mother’s death had only brought them closer. But as much as Faramir wanted to share everything with his brother, he could not. There were some things that he and Boromir would never see eye to eye on. And though Boromir was brave, facing Father would take more courage than either of them had.
When Faramir had exhausted his tears, at least for the night, he fell asleep in his brother’s arms. Boromir finally released his brother and laid him gently down on his pillow, covering him with the blanket. For all his declarations, Boromir still felt helpless. There was nothing he could do to change the fact that Father despised Faramir, for no reason other that his son reminded him of his dead wife.
Boromir wanted Faramir’s life to be easier. He didn’t want his brother to have to fight. It simply wasn’t in his gentle nature to do so. And yet, he knew that when Faramir reached his twelfth year, his father would move him to the barracks to begin his training. Boromir had wanted to go to the barracks, but Father wouldn’t hear of it. He wanted his prized son to be near him always. And Boromir was grateful he had been allowed to stay. Only he could stay his father’s hand when Faramir angered him. Faramir had such tender, pale skin that everyone knew when Denethor had decided his second son needed a lesson in toughness.
Faramir desired nothing more than to leave the place he could no longer call home. At first, he didn’t know where he would turn. Where could a small child go? How could he escape this place? There was much to consider and Faramir put his studious mind to work. He rushed through his lessons so that he could spend time in the library exploring the various books and maps contained therein.
Faramir studied books and maps for months. He didn’t want to go south to his uncle in Dol Amroth. He wasn’t even sure he’d be welcomed there anyway. Maybe he would just be another painful reminder of his mother. He would head north. He didn’t know if the elves would welcome him or not, but he hoped they would. His mother had told him stories of the kind and gentle creatures that shared this land with them. Of course, Father had no love for the elves, but that didn’t mean they were bad.
Faramir planned carefully, taking his time. He made sure not to ask too many questions at the same time. He didn’t want his tutors to figure out what he was planning. Mother had always said he was too smart for his own good. Maybe she was right. He carefully copied the map when his teachers weren’t looking. He would have to travel far, but it was the only place he could think of that could possibly provide him the shelter he sought.
He merely wanted an escape. He wanted to go someplace to grieve in peace. Would anyone else understand? How could they? Faramir did not think that anyone could understand how he felt. He planned carefully, wanting to go when the weather would be most favorable. Faramir had done his planning and now he was ready to go.
After supper, he excused himself and escaped to his room. He grabbed a small satchel from under the bed and assured himself that he had some bread, a few pieces of hard cheese and a couple of apples. He knew it wasn’t nearly enough, but it had been all he could sneak away. He stuffed an extra tunic and a pair of leggings into the bag. Almost as a parting thought, he grabbed an extra blanket. He slipped through the doorway and down the hall as quickly and quietly as possible. His small body tucked easily into shadows and doorways, keeping him from the guard’s sight. It took him longer than he’d expected, but finally he was at the main gate. He stared carefully at the gate and waited.
Faramir had made several test runs, slipping out of his room and down the dark corridors and finally outside and to the main gates. He had never actually left the city on any of the test runs, deciding it would be too risky and would give away his plan.
Faramir waited in the shadows and watched. He waited and waited and waited, until finally the guards changed shifts. When they did so, he slipped out into the darkness. No one saw the small child slip out the gates. He’d been out of the city before, but never on his own and never in the dark. He crept along the wall in the darkness.
When he was a distance away from the gate, he ran to put some distance between him and Minas Tirith. He knew that if he followed along to the north, he would have access to water. He had his map and he intended to avoid Rohan and stick to small villages or cities. He still wasn’t sure he could avoid being caught, but he thought if he got far enough away from home, he would have a chance.
He finally felt he was a safe distance away and he slowed to a walk. He walked and walked for what felt like forever, when he finally reached the edge of Druadan Forest. He planned to rest for a few hours then circle around the forest through Anorien. His tutors had warned him of the wild men that lived in Druadan Forest. He didn’t care how long it took, he just hoped he would reach a safe place every night. A horse would have been faster and he had originally planned to take a horse, but after slipping out of his bed for several nights, he had quickly realized that he would never be able to slip out of the city with a horse.
Faramir walked until he couldn’t walk anymore. Finally sometime mid-morning he sat down to rest. He covered himself with the blanket and fell into an exhausted sleep. He was awoken by the sounds of shouting and horse hooves pounding into the ground. He sat up, clearly frightened, his eyes searching for the identity of who was nearby and whether he had been discovered or not.
A moment later, he found himself in a tight hug. “Little brother, I’m so glad you’re safe.” Boromir motioned to another soldier, “Captain, he’s right here. I’ve got him. He’s been found.” Turning back to Faramir, he tightened his grip. “What were you thinking? I’ve been so worried. What are you doing out here?”
Boromir had not told his father that Faramir was missing. He knew what his father’s response would have been. He would have been more than happy to leave Faramir in the wilderness. So he had told his Captain and together the two of them had ventured out to look for the missing child. Boromir had feared they wouldn’t find him. Or that something awful had already happened. He was terrified at the idea of losing his brother.
“I was running away,” Faramir pouted. “You should have not come looking for me. You should have left well enough alone. With me out of the way, you and Father could be happy again.”
Boromir choked back the tears. “If you were gone, brother, I would never have found happiness. You had me frightened half to death. I could not bear it if you were gone. Please come back with me.”
“Boromir, I. . .” Faramir started.
“I promise, brother. If it is the last thing I do, I will keep you safe. I will do whatever it takes to ensure your happiness. Will you come back with me?”
Faramir nodded. He could not disappoint Boromir. Boromir was the only person he could not bear to disappoint. He climbed on the horse behind his brother and rode back to the very place he tried so hard to leave.
Many years later, Boromir’s words came back to haunt him. He had only wanted to take the ring to save his city, to keep his promise to ensure Faramir’s happiness. And he had failed.
Also, alternatively, how does Boromir feel about this? Does he miss his brother? Will he search, and/or obey his father? Will he help Faramir overcome it?
Title: The Runaway
Author: mistressminx_13
Format: Short Story (2,209 words)
Genre: General/adventure involving children
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Characters: Faramir and Boromir
Pairings: None
Summary: Faramir runs away.
Faramir sat at the end of the long table staring at his food. His brother, Boromir, sat across from him; and at the far end of the table sat Father, his mood dark as always. He found himself missing his mother once again. She had been gone for three years – three very long years. It still filled him with grief. He looked up as he was kicked gently underneath the table. Boromir shook his head no very slightly. Faramir nodded his thanks before looking down at his plate again.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful for his brother, he was, but he was tired of being protected. And he was tired of Father criticizing him. The worst part was, Faramir understood Father’s reasons for hating him. He looked too much like his mother. He loved books and music as she had. He was too slender. He wasn’t strong as his brother was.
Boromir had only started training this year and already had gained strength. His muscles were developing rapidly. Boromir had a hearty appetite, and training had only increased it. Father seemed to take pride in the fact that Boromir ate almost as much as a grown man. Whereas Faramir hardly had an appetite at all; it was just another thing that seemed to upset Father.
Since Mother’s death, the only thing that seemed to brighten Father’s mood was Boromir. It seemed his brother had no faults. He had a hearty appetite, he was skilled with a sword, he grew daily it seemed. Even when Boromir was found fighting amongst his peers, Father seemed proud. Father cared little that Boromir acted out of grief; he only cared that Boromir was strong.
Faramir would never be the son Father wanted. He tried, but he would never succeed. Faramir knew that even if his successes surpassed Boromir’s, he would never be accepted as Boromir was. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his brother, in fact, the opposite was true. He loved Boromir beyond measure. It was just that they were so very different. Boromir preferred his swords and roughhousing, and Faramir enjoyed the quiet of the library and song.
He missed his mother singing to him at night or when he didn’t feel well. He missed her gentle touch and the concern in her eyes. He missed her warm smile and lilting laughter. And most of all, he missed the way Father acted when she had been alive. Though he would not have called Father gentle, he was kind and generous towards both of his sons. Now that Mother was gone, he seemed to have eyes for only one.
It seemed to Faramir that when Mother died, Father had split himself into two different people. The firm, strong, guiding presence was directed toward Boromir and all the grief of losing his wife had turned toward Faramir. Faramir could not compete with the grief his father felt, nor could he compete with his brother. It seemed he had no choice.
As soon as Father stood and left the room, Faramir bolted from the dining hall. The place no longer held any joy for him. When Mother had been alive, she had insisted that they sit together as a family at the large table. She did not want to put such a large expanse of wood between them. They talked of their days, sharing each other’s joys and successes, and occasional failures at that table. Now, Father forced he and Boromir to sit at the far end of the table and talking was not allowed.
Faramir rushed down the hall and to his room. This was the only place he found solace anymore. Here he swore he could still smell Mother’s perfume, the delicate scent lingering in the air. Here the memories of his mother could overwhelm him and he could cry freely, without any thought of repercussion.
“Faramir?” called Boromir from the doorway.
“I’m fine, just leave me be,” Faramir replied.
But Boromir didn’t leave. Instead, he entered the room and pushed the heavy door closed behind them. He encircled his younger brother in a hug.
“I know you love her and miss her, little brother. So do I.”
“But Father doesn’t punish you for missing her,” Faramir complained as he struggled out of his brother’s strong grip.
“That does not mean that I miss her any less.”
“There is such agony in my heart that I do not know if it will ever stop.”
“One day it will.”
“You cannot promise that.”
Boromir sighed and sat down on the bed. “If I could make it better, I would. You know that, don’t you? If I could change things, I would. If I could somehow make Father behave differently, or if I could bring Mother back, you know that I would, right? You know that I would give anything to not see such grief in your eyes?”
Faramir hugged his brother tightly as the tears streamed down his face. “I know you would, brother, I know you would.”
Faramir didn’t doubt Boromir’s words. They had always been close. Mother’s death had only brought them closer. But as much as Faramir wanted to share everything with his brother, he could not. There were some things that he and Boromir would never see eye to eye on. And though Boromir was brave, facing Father would take more courage than either of them had.
When Faramir had exhausted his tears, at least for the night, he fell asleep in his brother’s arms. Boromir finally released his brother and laid him gently down on his pillow, covering him with the blanket. For all his declarations, Boromir still felt helpless. There was nothing he could do to change the fact that Father despised Faramir, for no reason other that his son reminded him of his dead wife.
Boromir wanted Faramir’s life to be easier. He didn’t want his brother to have to fight. It simply wasn’t in his gentle nature to do so. And yet, he knew that when Faramir reached his twelfth year, his father would move him to the barracks to begin his training. Boromir had wanted to go to the barracks, but Father wouldn’t hear of it. He wanted his prized son to be near him always. And Boromir was grateful he had been allowed to stay. Only he could stay his father’s hand when Faramir angered him. Faramir had such tender, pale skin that everyone knew when Denethor had decided his second son needed a lesson in toughness.
Faramir desired nothing more than to leave the place he could no longer call home. At first, he didn’t know where he would turn. Where could a small child go? How could he escape this place? There was much to consider and Faramir put his studious mind to work. He rushed through his lessons so that he could spend time in the library exploring the various books and maps contained therein.
Faramir studied books and maps for months. He didn’t want to go south to his uncle in Dol Amroth. He wasn’t even sure he’d be welcomed there anyway. Maybe he would just be another painful reminder of his mother. He would head north. He didn’t know if the elves would welcome him or not, but he hoped they would. His mother had told him stories of the kind and gentle creatures that shared this land with them. Of course, Father had no love for the elves, but that didn’t mean they were bad.
Faramir planned carefully, taking his time. He made sure not to ask too many questions at the same time. He didn’t want his tutors to figure out what he was planning. Mother had always said he was too smart for his own good. Maybe she was right. He carefully copied the map when his teachers weren’t looking. He would have to travel far, but it was the only place he could think of that could possibly provide him the shelter he sought.
He merely wanted an escape. He wanted to go someplace to grieve in peace. Would anyone else understand? How could they? Faramir did not think that anyone could understand how he felt. He planned carefully, wanting to go when the weather would be most favorable. Faramir had done his planning and now he was ready to go.
After supper, he excused himself and escaped to his room. He grabbed a small satchel from under the bed and assured himself that he had some bread, a few pieces of hard cheese and a couple of apples. He knew it wasn’t nearly enough, but it had been all he could sneak away. He stuffed an extra tunic and a pair of leggings into the bag. Almost as a parting thought, he grabbed an extra blanket. He slipped through the doorway and down the hall as quickly and quietly as possible. His small body tucked easily into shadows and doorways, keeping him from the guard’s sight. It took him longer than he’d expected, but finally he was at the main gate. He stared carefully at the gate and waited.
Faramir had made several test runs, slipping out of his room and down the dark corridors and finally outside and to the main gates. He had never actually left the city on any of the test runs, deciding it would be too risky and would give away his plan.
Faramir waited in the shadows and watched. He waited and waited and waited, until finally the guards changed shifts. When they did so, he slipped out into the darkness. No one saw the small child slip out the gates. He’d been out of the city before, but never on his own and never in the dark. He crept along the wall in the darkness.
When he was a distance away from the gate, he ran to put some distance between him and Minas Tirith. He knew that if he followed along to the north, he would have access to water. He had his map and he intended to avoid Rohan and stick to small villages or cities. He still wasn’t sure he could avoid being caught, but he thought if he got far enough away from home, he would have a chance.
He finally felt he was a safe distance away and he slowed to a walk. He walked and walked for what felt like forever, when he finally reached the edge of Druadan Forest. He planned to rest for a few hours then circle around the forest through Anorien. His tutors had warned him of the wild men that lived in Druadan Forest. He didn’t care how long it took, he just hoped he would reach a safe place every night. A horse would have been faster and he had originally planned to take a horse, but after slipping out of his bed for several nights, he had quickly realized that he would never be able to slip out of the city with a horse.
Faramir walked until he couldn’t walk anymore. Finally sometime mid-morning he sat down to rest. He covered himself with the blanket and fell into an exhausted sleep. He was awoken by the sounds of shouting and horse hooves pounding into the ground. He sat up, clearly frightened, his eyes searching for the identity of who was nearby and whether he had been discovered or not.
A moment later, he found himself in a tight hug. “Little brother, I’m so glad you’re safe.” Boromir motioned to another soldier, “Captain, he’s right here. I’ve got him. He’s been found.” Turning back to Faramir, he tightened his grip. “What were you thinking? I’ve been so worried. What are you doing out here?”
Boromir had not told his father that Faramir was missing. He knew what his father’s response would have been. He would have been more than happy to leave Faramir in the wilderness. So he had told his Captain and together the two of them had ventured out to look for the missing child. Boromir had feared they wouldn’t find him. Or that something awful had already happened. He was terrified at the idea of losing his brother.
“I was running away,” Faramir pouted. “You should have not come looking for me. You should have left well enough alone. With me out of the way, you and Father could be happy again.”
Boromir choked back the tears. “If you were gone, brother, I would never have found happiness. You had me frightened half to death. I could not bear it if you were gone. Please come back with me.”
“Boromir, I. . .” Faramir started.
“I promise, brother. If it is the last thing I do, I will keep you safe. I will do whatever it takes to ensure your happiness. Will you come back with me?”
Faramir nodded. He could not disappoint Boromir. Boromir was the only person he could not bear to disappoint. He climbed on the horse behind his brother and rode back to the very place he tried so hard to leave.
Many years later, Boromir’s words came back to haunt him. He had only wanted to take the ring to save his city, to keep his promise to ensure Faramir’s happiness. And he had failed.
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Date: 2015-03-15 02:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-03-16 04:52 pm (UTC)