Prologue

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Okay ! Here we are ! This is my first Fanfiction ever ! My apologies for the poor expression and grammar, English is not my mother language...😅
Hope you'll enjoy ! And don't hesitate to tell me if there are any mistakes, I'm here to learn..! I'll try to update as often as possible, but I am a bit messy, so I can't promise anything... This chapter is mostly from Faramir's POV, and takes place in Osgiliath, just when Boromir leaves to Rivendell. Hope you'll enjoy !!!

Disclaimer : Unfortunately, I do not own the Lord of the Rings, everything belongs to Tolkien Estate and New Line Cinema :')
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"Remember today, little brother." he told him before making his horse turn around around and galop off, disappearing into faraway and unknown horizons. Faramir turned back, facing the newly saved city but lowering his head as if defeated. A feeling in his soul kept telling him he might not see his brother alive again yet he chose to ignore it, putting it on the account of concern. He silently headed back to his tent, heart still filled with restrained fear and worry.

"My Lord ?" a voice called as he entered.

"Prepare my horse," he told Deveron, his second in command, with a voice he wanted to be as strong as possible, "I am going back to Minas Tirith." 'At least I should be free from my father for a while...' he thought. The words he had said in front of him and the whole garrison were still haunting his mind :
"The victory belongs to Faramir also." Boromir had told Denethor after he had joined them (or more exactly joined his eldest), to Faramir's great displeasure, and had begun to congratulate his first born, not even deining to give the youngest a single glance. Hearing his name, the young Captain had stepped forward, placing a forced smile on his lips, mostly there to thank Boromir for trying to make him gain some credit in their Father's eyes.

"But for Faramir this city would still be standing," the expected but no less sharp words cut through the air and came crashing on Faramir's shoulder like a mass.

The smile immediately left his face, replaced by tears he felt were quickly filling in his eyes. "Were you not entrusted to protect it ?" the Steward went on disregarding or blind to the obvious pain that was now in his son's eyes and to Boromir lowering his head in pure disbelief.

"I would have done but our numbers were too few," Faramir defended himself, his voice shaking ever so slightly, but Denethor dismissed him without another thought.

"Oh, too few ? You let the enemy walk in and take it on a whim."

Again, the words hit Faramir like a sharp knife piercing his chest. On a whim ? His men and had fought restlessly day and night to try and bring the enemy down. Alas there had just been too many of them. And as he had seen his soldiers being taken down one by one despite their valiant efforts, the Captain had chosen to sacrifice the city instead of his companions' life. A choice he had thought had been wise and necessary, but which Denethor considered as coward and useless.

"Always you cast a poor reflection on me." At this point, Faramir barely felt the sting of this simple sentence, managing to lock his feelings away and ignore them as he often did.

"That is not my intent." he almost whispered, forcing his chin up.

Hopefully, his dear brother, once again, tried to pull him away from his Father's neglect and discontentment.

"You give him no credit and yet he tries to do your will."

'Oh, Boromir ! What will I become now that you have left ? You are the one who was able to handle this situation, not me, I can only make matters worse. I need you, brother, much more than you know...'

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