The Hobbit and LOTR oneshots, preferences and imagines

Boromir and Faramir x reader - Pillows and swordfights pt. 2

You grunt as your opponent's sword hits your own. You push his sword back with the flat of your blade, making him stumble. He recovers quickly, however, and thrusts at you under your arm, forcing you to lift it and expose your side. You parry his thrust and push him back again, but this won't work forever. Before you can pick a new strategy, he hits your sword out of your hand and the tip of his blade comes to rest at your throat.

"I won." Boromir grins.

"Fine." You push away his sword and go pick up yours, sheathing it. "D'you remember how we used to do this, even when we were little?"

"Of course! We'd use wooden swords and pillows!" He laughs. "Isn't that right, Faramir?"

Your other brother, who was reading a book, lifts his head and smiles at the both of you. "I remember. And Y/N would always win!"

You laugh. "Not always!"

"Maybe not. But at least-" Faramir is interrupted by a guard coming into the arena where you're training.

"It's time for you to leave." He looks to Boromir.

Boromir's face becomes grave. "Of course."

"I don't understand," you say, striding to the stables with Boromir, Faramir and the guard. "Why can't I come?"

"Y/N... This is my duty. And who knows? Maybe you'll get your own chance to go to Rivendell too one day." Boromir smiles at you. "Besides, it's alright- I'll be back soon."

"The council of Elrond... I wish I could accompany you too." Faramir sighs. "Well, fare well, Brother."

Boromir claps his shoulder. "I'll be back before the coming of the next season!"

"Can you swear?" You inquire.

"If you like. I swear by the White Tower that I will return before the end of the season. Are you satisfied now?"

You nod. "See you then."

You embrace your brother, Faramir joining too.

When you pull apart, Boromir is grinning, and for a second, you see the boy who defended himself with a pillow, the child who pretended to save his family with a wooden weapon. Then he is Boromir again, a tall and brave warrior on a noble mission.

You smile sadly back. "You've grown, brother."

"So have you." He clasps Faramir's shoulder one more time and mounts his horse.

At his side is his horn; the horn that you and Faramir worked so hard on to carve and engrave. Boromir notices your glance.

"It's a beautiful horn. Thank you." He smiles at the two of you one last time, then takes his horse's reins in his hands.

"I hope you never have to use it." You whisper.

Boromir shakes his head and urges his horse forward. "Goodbye."

"See you soon!" You cry as he rides away.

"Goodbye, brother." Faramir inclines his head.

Boromir's horse gallops on, into the horizon, and just like that, he's gone.
It's all right. We'll see him again. You comfort yourself.

You turn back to the White city, smiling.

The image of a young boy holding a pillow and a toy sword, laughing, dances through your mind one more time.