Lord of the Rings: Fanfic: Duty bound

[m_findlow]

Title: Duty bound
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Characters: Boromir, Faramir, Denethor
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 801 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for randi2204's prompt "Lord of the Rings, Boromir, it wasn’t a choice, not really" at fic_promptly
Summary: Both brothers are sworn to do their father's bidding.

The mood over the table was sullen and silent, only the sound of chewing from their father audible as it echoed around the tall stone hallway.

For Boromir, it was a respite after a long ride, patrolling the north eastern edges of the realm, as far as Cair Andros. He was glad to be back in the city. The sound of his horse's hooves clacking on the white stones was always a welcome sound. It was the sound of home, climbing through the many levels of the city's walls until he reached the Tower of Ecthelion.

He loved to walk the long plaza that jutted out over the entire city, coming to stand right at its apex, all of Gondor spread out before him. Tonight however, there'd been no time for that. There'd been time enough only to bathe and dress before being summoned to dine with his father. His brother Faramir was there at least, though it often added a level of tension to the room. Together they would laugh and drink the night away, but with their father in the room, it was a completely different story.

'Did you have any troubles, brother?' Faramir asked him, breaking the silence.

'It was remarkably quiet.' That in itself worried him. The North and the East were never truly at rest. Mordor was a constant threat which had hovered over the city for as long as he'd been alive, and many long years before that. 'What news from the city?'

Faramir cast a nervous glance towards their father. Boromir could tell he wanted to say something, but that their father had forbade him to do so.

'A messenger from Rivendell,' his father, the Lord Denethor, finally spoke.

Boromir frowned. 'Rivendell? What business do Elven messengers have here?'

'They have requested Gondor's presence at a council,' Faramir said, when his father didn't elaborate.

Boromir frowned. 'What sort of council?'

'A council of Elves, Men and Dwarves,' Denethor replied. 'It's said that Gandalf the Grey will also be there. I believe this may be his doing.'

That caught Boromir even more by surprise. He'd met the wizard twice when he'd come to the city. What business did he have arranging council with the Elves? 'They want us to send an envoy?' he asked.

'Indeed. But they're are mad if they think I will leave the city without its Steward.'

'I could go, Father,' Faramir piped up, setting down his goblet.

Denethor scoffed through a mouthful of chicken. 'You?' Faramir took the dismissal and went back to the food in front of him.

'He is right, Father,' Boromir replied. 'If the Elves have summoned us at this late hour, then they can only mean to discuss a potential alliance to help us fight the shadow to the east.'

'Precisely,' Denethor, said, biting into an apple, a small fleck of juice shooting across the table. 'Why on earth would I send my second son to such an auspicious meeting?'

Boromir paused over his food. 'Will Rohan be sending an envoy?'

'Rohan.' Denethor spat the word out with such distaste. 'They have forsaken us. What makes you think they would send a delegation? They are not true men.' The only true men were those of the White City. His city.

'There are growing reports of orcs in the ruins of Osgiliath,' Boromir said, reaching across for a fist of bread. 'I would like to ensure that they come no further. Faramir is a fine ambassador to represent our interests at a council.' Much better than himself, he thought. Faramir was the quiet sort who listened carefully and said little, but missed nothing.

Denethor barked out something that might have been confused for a laugh, however Boromir knew that his father did not laugh, even in mockery. 'You are my first born son and the heir to Minas Tirith and to Gondor. There is no one else I would sent to treat with elves and dwarves. Each race will want to press their advantage in any alliance. Your task will be to ensure that our interests are met. Unless you believe the defence of the city is more important?'

His father's words left no question about where his duties lay. He would be packing to ride for Rivendell come the morning. Choice did not come into it. He regretted that his brother was so poorly thought of when he'd done nothing to warrant such disdain.

'And as for you,' he said, turning to Faramir, 'since you insist on being useful, you will take your men and rid Osgiliath of every orc and other foul thing. Then you will continue south to Pelagir and drive back every enemy right to the mountains themselves. Am I understood?'

'Yes, Father,' Faramir said, casting his eyes down at the table.

'Yes, Father,' Boromir added.