It is after the ring war

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We can of course have a Boromirlives! AU here...:)

And the war was over. All of it was over.

It’s over now, forget about it, he told himself harshly. Enough time had passed. The war was over. Peace was returning, and Gondor had a king, and the white tree bloomed again. Even now, in the early hours of the morning he could hear the distant clanging caused by the dwarves as they restored ironwork and stone all over the city.

He should remember that and revel in the happiness of his people, and forget these dreams. They were bound to happen, the healers had said – a result of all these years of fighting, and of the encounter with the nazgul, and because of all he had gone through over such a short period of time..

It’s over, he repeated to himself, but he couldn’t steady his trembling fingers. He felt sweat trickle down the back of his neck, even as a cold breeze nipped through his open window. He always had this strange hot cold feeling whenever he woke up from these dreams that his experiences in the ring war and earlier had induced.

He did not dream so badly very often but in his mind, he did so more than enough. At least he had not dreamt of the nazgul this time, he thought shuddering, and tried to bite back the sob of despair that rose in his throat.

Don’t think about it, he repeated to himself. Don’t think about it. And yet he couldn’t help but think… of the horn call that his brother had sounded, and how scared he had been on hearing that, and how old his father had suddenly seemed. And then that ethereal sight of the boat as it had floated silently downriver, the vivid flashing memory of that last battle on the Pelennor, and the pain that he still felt on his shoulder every now and then, and then, worst of all the mangled memories of the warmth of flames against his aching, shivering body.

All of the memories flooded back into him again, and he cried out softly.

The door was pushed open gently and Faramir started at the sudden intrusion, gasping harshly. He felt the tears pooled in his eyes drop, trickling down his cold cheek, as he panted softly, trying to regain his breath.

The other man entered carrying two steaming mugs. Seeing Faramir’s distraught face, he stopped at the doorway.

Faramir brushed away the tears quickly with his hands, sniffling a little as he did so. He tried to smile, but all that seemed to come out was a weak grimace. The other man, however did not notice, and instead walked up to Faramir’s bedisde with the mugs.

“There now. I’ve brought you a special little brew. It’ll make you feel all warm and toasty inside and it’ll help you relax.”

He gently pulled Faramir up straight against his pillows, and handed him one mug and placed the other on the table nearby. Then he rose, picked up the blankets and after unfurling them, laid them on Faramir’s lower body, tucking them in neatly.

“Drink,” he said for Faramir had not even sipped the brew, “It needs to be hot.”

“Thank you,” Faramir said softly, looking quietly into the other man’s eyes for the first time that morning.

What happens next?


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