Fic: Fortune Favors the Bold
Sep. 7th, 2007 10:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
illwyndI wasn't sure if I was gonna post this or not, but... *shrugs* why not? Maybe someone will be amused by it.
Fortune Favors the Bold
By illwynd
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Characters/pairings: Faramir/Boromir, Aragorn
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Non-explicit sibcest
Summary: A new law in Gondor forces Faramir (and his dead brother) to take action.
Notes: This is but a bunch of absurd silliness written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
lotr_eclectic’s “LJ Fiasco” challenge. Feedback is always appreciated.
x-posted tofaramir_fics and sons_of_gondor also.
“Can he do that?” Boromir’s ghost gestured towards the scroll containing Aragorn’s latest decree after reading through it with an increasingly stunned look.
Faramir glanced up, his expression resignedly unhappy. “Of course he can. He is the king, you know.”
Boromir’s ghost snorted. “Don’t remind me. And that’s not really what I meant, anyhow.”
There was a long silence, before Boromir’s ghost realized that Faramir was waiting for him to explain himself. “Ah. Well… it won’t particularly affect me either way—what is he going to do, sentence me to death?—but I wouldn’t have thought that the people of Gondor would put up with that. Even as vague as it is on the details…”
“It could affect you,” Faramir said, eyeing him darkly. “And what did you expect the people to do? Overthrow him?”
“Nay, of course not. But Rohan is a rather nice place.” Boromir’s ghost twiddled its thumbs and looked contemplatively toward the ceiling.
Faramir sputtered. “What?! You expected everyone to leave Gondor?” Boromir only shrugged in response. Faramir had never remembered his brother to be quite so frustrating while he was alive… no, actually that wasn’t true. But if anyone could have been called staunchly and vocally Gondorian, it was Boromir. “You can’t really mean that.”
“Hm, well, not everyone, of course. And I don’t think I will leave.”
“You had better not. I cannot go live in Rohan.” Faramir took advantage of the silence to get himself a glass of much-needed wine. He started to pour another for Boromir, but then stopped himself. It was difficult to get used to having a ghost around the house. Particularly when that ghost was one’s brother.
Boromir watched him with sympathy, although it wasn’t any easier being the ghost around the house. He too could have done with a drink after news like that, but, alas, it was not to be.
Faramir broke the silence after a moment. “So what shall we do about this? I think it would be hard to convince the council on this one, but I could speak to King Elessar directly. As Steward, my voice does have some weight. Perhaps if I am very persuasive…”
“As you usually are,” Boromir’s ghost interrupted him and winked.
“…I might get him to reverse his decision. What do you think?” Faramir said.
“Well, that is one option. But I was more planning on simply not obeying.”
Faramir stared at him. Boromir ignored his stare. Faramir stared some more, and narrowed his eyes a bit. Boromir at last met his gaze, and suddenly looked sheepish.
“Palantír?” He asked.
Faramir nodded.
“Ah. Yes. Right,” Boromir said, and his ghost contrived to blush (which was an alarming sight on many fronts). “So, I suppose you had better go and see if you can’t convince our lord and king to change his mind. If that doesn’t work, I’ll organize a protest.”
“You’ll…?” It seemed to Faramir that the conversation had taken a turn even further towards the surreal. “Don’t you think people will be a little surprised at your sudden and unexpected reappearance? Particularly if you appear, all pale and insubstantial, to tell them to rise up against the king?”
Boromir pondered this for a moment. “I see what you mean. But I’ll work something out. And if I can find enough cats…”
“Cats?”
Boromir waved the question away. “Can’t have a protest without… oh, never mind.”
Faramir knew better than to inquire further, and he started preparing for the ride to Minas Tirith right away. As soon as he got a bag packed, and had kissed Éowyn goodbye, he popped his head back into the room where Boromir’s ghost stayed.
“No going ‘bump’ in the night while I’m gone, if you please.”
Boromir looked disappointed, but did not argue.
* * *
Faramir sat, somewhat uncomfortably, in Elessar’s study. His discomfort did not stem from any physical circumstance—the chair on which he sat was perhaps slightly more festooned with Elvishly embroidered cushions than was necessary, but not to the point of absurdity, and the room was warm and well-lit—but instead from the topic that he had come to broach. He had not yet been able to bring himself to mention it, and instead had made relatively small talk for nearly half an hour so far. However, there was only so much he could say along the lines of making sure that the new king had a handle on all the various paperwork troubles for which he had inherited responsibility. He steeled himself to take the plunge…
“But, of course, I’m sure you’ve realized that I had other matters in mind when I came here…” he said.
“Aye, I was wondering about that. Your help with all of this is much appreciated, though. Now, what else did you wish to speak about?” Elessar asked lightly.
“The matter that I wanted to discuss was… your most recent decree.”
The king shifted slightly in his seat, and placed his hands before him on the desk. “Oh. That.”
“Yes. That,” Faramir said. “It seems to go a bit beyond the scope of law as we are familiar with it, and I was hoping you could enlighten me as to the reasons you’ve decided it is necessary.”
“It is an Elvish law,” Elessar said with an apologetic shrug.
“Ah.” Faramir let his dubious look speak for him. Elessar had always seemed to him to be perfectly used to the ways of Men, even if he had been raised among Elves. He wondered now if perhaps he had been wrong about that.
“Arwen is used to Elvish society. She pointed out the absence of this law here. I couldn’t very well ignore her request, could I?”
Faramir pondered this for a moment, and came to the conclusion that the king had certainly been put into an unenviable situation. “I suppose you must do what you feel you must, under the circumstances. And I would certainly not want the queen to be uncomfortable here. But the punishment seems harsh, also. Is that, too, a part of the Elvish law?”
“Actually, yes. But banishment for life is a much longer sentence for the Eldar, you know,” the king said, letting out a little laugh.
“True enough. Still…” Faramir couldn’t think of any way to explain to the king that the deeds that he had just banned were, well, not exactly common in Gondor, but tacitly accepted and ignored when they did occur, since they did no harm to anyone.
“It’s not something that I imagine having to enforce often,” Elessar continued. “With the Elves, it’s easier to know whether they have done any such thing, as another Elf can feel if they… but that’s neither here nor there.”
Faramir suppressed a sigh of relief that the king had stopped himself before explaining fully. There were things in the world that he didn’t need to know.
He tried a few more lines of argument, but Elessar only looked harried, shrugged his shoulders, and muttered something about Elvish sensibilities. Faramir reluctantly gave up and made his exit, as he could think of nothing else to say.
* * *
By the time Faramir had left the presence of the king, it was already too late in the day to return home. This did not entirely dismay him; it would give him time to think of some way to change Elessar’s mind, or perhaps find out where some of the councilors stood on the matter. It would also give him time to think of a way to break the news to Boromir if he could not do anything. He made his way distractedly to his old chambers, let himself in, and sank heavily down onto the bed.
“I take it that didn’t go well.”
Faramir started, and turned to see Boromir’s ghost lazing casually next to him. “Nay, not particularly. But first, how did you… why are you…?”
“Being dead has its advantages,” Boromir said, buffing his spectral fingernails on his spectral tunic.
Faramir nodded contemplatively, and then went on to explain the situation.
Boromir listened, frowning. “Should have guessed,” he muttered when Faramir fell silent. A few moments passed. “So what is your plan to change his mind?” Boromir asked.
“I haven’t got one,” Faramir admitted. “Any ideas?”
“Hm. I suppose it would do no good to remind him that Men are not Elves, or that Gondor got on fine without Elvish laws for quite a while?”
Faramir shook his head. “I already mentioned that to him.”
“And I suppose it wouldn’t help to remind him that Gondor got on fine without a king for quite a while too?”
Faramir swatted him—or rather, swatted the air—as he was not at all in the mood to have that argument again.
Silence reigned. Faramir was lost in thought, but his brother’s ghost began grinning deviously. “Then it’s back to my plan.”
“Which plan?” Faramir thought back to their earlier conversation, and very much wasn’t sure he wanted his dead brother dashing off full-tilt to incite revolution.
“Not obeying,” Boromir said cheerfully. “Say… it’s been a while since I was in your old chambers. Lots of fond memories here. Like that time when you were seventeen, and I…”
“Shh!” Faramir would have clapped a hand over his brother’s mouth if that had been possible anymore. As it was, he put as much ferociousness into his shushing as he could muster, and gave Boromir a piercing glare. He had been trying not to call to his mind that occasion, or any of the countless others like it—to call those memories merely pleasant would be to understate them greatly.
Boromir only laughed. “Little brother, you worry too much. He would not banish you, of all people. And if he does happen to find out… well, what better reason could you give why this law is perhaps not such a fantastic idea?”
Boromir’s ghost wafted stubbornly closer to him, and Faramir decided, after some consideration, that his plan was worth a try. He closed his eyes, and let himself feel the first shivers of a familiar touch…
Fortune Favors the Bold
By illwynd
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Characters/pairings: Faramir/Boromir, Aragorn
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Non-explicit sibcest
Summary: A new law in Gondor forces Faramir (and his dead brother) to take action.
Notes: This is but a bunch of absurd silliness written for
lotr_eclectic’s “LJ Fiasco” challenge. Feedback is always appreciated. x-posted to
faramir_fics and sons_of_gondor also.“Can he do that?” Boromir’s ghost gestured towards the scroll containing Aragorn’s latest decree after reading through it with an increasingly stunned look.
Faramir glanced up, his expression resignedly unhappy. “Of course he can. He is the king, you know.”
Boromir’s ghost snorted. “Don’t remind me. And that’s not really what I meant, anyhow.”
There was a long silence, before Boromir’s ghost realized that Faramir was waiting for him to explain himself. “Ah. Well… it won’t particularly affect me either way—what is he going to do, sentence me to death?—but I wouldn’t have thought that the people of Gondor would put up with that. Even as vague as it is on the details…”
“It could affect you,” Faramir said, eyeing him darkly. “And what did you expect the people to do? Overthrow him?”
“Nay, of course not. But Rohan is a rather nice place.” Boromir’s ghost twiddled its thumbs and looked contemplatively toward the ceiling.
Faramir sputtered. “What?! You expected everyone to leave Gondor?” Boromir only shrugged in response. Faramir had never remembered his brother to be quite so frustrating while he was alive… no, actually that wasn’t true. But if anyone could have been called staunchly and vocally Gondorian, it was Boromir. “You can’t really mean that.”
“Hm, well, not everyone, of course. And I don’t think I will leave.”
“You had better not. I cannot go live in Rohan.” Faramir took advantage of the silence to get himself a glass of much-needed wine. He started to pour another for Boromir, but then stopped himself. It was difficult to get used to having a ghost around the house. Particularly when that ghost was one’s brother.
Boromir watched him with sympathy, although it wasn’t any easier being the ghost around the house. He too could have done with a drink after news like that, but, alas, it was not to be.
Faramir broke the silence after a moment. “So what shall we do about this? I think it would be hard to convince the council on this one, but I could speak to King Elessar directly. As Steward, my voice does have some weight. Perhaps if I am very persuasive…”
“As you usually are,” Boromir’s ghost interrupted him and winked.
“…I might get him to reverse his decision. What do you think?” Faramir said.
“Well, that is one option. But I was more planning on simply not obeying.”
Faramir stared at him. Boromir ignored his stare. Faramir stared some more, and narrowed his eyes a bit. Boromir at last met his gaze, and suddenly looked sheepish.
“Palantír?” He asked.
Faramir nodded.
“Ah. Yes. Right,” Boromir said, and his ghost contrived to blush (which was an alarming sight on many fronts). “So, I suppose you had better go and see if you can’t convince our lord and king to change his mind. If that doesn’t work, I’ll organize a protest.”
“You’ll…?” It seemed to Faramir that the conversation had taken a turn even further towards the surreal. “Don’t you think people will be a little surprised at your sudden and unexpected reappearance? Particularly if you appear, all pale and insubstantial, to tell them to rise up against the king?”
Boromir pondered this for a moment. “I see what you mean. But I’ll work something out. And if I can find enough cats…”
“Cats?”
Boromir waved the question away. “Can’t have a protest without… oh, never mind.”
Faramir knew better than to inquire further, and he started preparing for the ride to Minas Tirith right away. As soon as he got a bag packed, and had kissed Éowyn goodbye, he popped his head back into the room where Boromir’s ghost stayed.
“No going ‘bump’ in the night while I’m gone, if you please.”
Boromir looked disappointed, but did not argue.
* * *
Faramir sat, somewhat uncomfortably, in Elessar’s study. His discomfort did not stem from any physical circumstance—the chair on which he sat was perhaps slightly more festooned with Elvishly embroidered cushions than was necessary, but not to the point of absurdity, and the room was warm and well-lit—but instead from the topic that he had come to broach. He had not yet been able to bring himself to mention it, and instead had made relatively small talk for nearly half an hour so far. However, there was only so much he could say along the lines of making sure that the new king had a handle on all the various paperwork troubles for which he had inherited responsibility. He steeled himself to take the plunge…
“But, of course, I’m sure you’ve realized that I had other matters in mind when I came here…” he said.
“Aye, I was wondering about that. Your help with all of this is much appreciated, though. Now, what else did you wish to speak about?” Elessar asked lightly.
“The matter that I wanted to discuss was… your most recent decree.”
The king shifted slightly in his seat, and placed his hands before him on the desk. “Oh. That.”
“Yes. That,” Faramir said. “It seems to go a bit beyond the scope of law as we are familiar with it, and I was hoping you could enlighten me as to the reasons you’ve decided it is necessary.”
“It is an Elvish law,” Elessar said with an apologetic shrug.
“Ah.” Faramir let his dubious look speak for him. Elessar had always seemed to him to be perfectly used to the ways of Men, even if he had been raised among Elves. He wondered now if perhaps he had been wrong about that.
“Arwen is used to Elvish society. She pointed out the absence of this law here. I couldn’t very well ignore her request, could I?”
Faramir pondered this for a moment, and came to the conclusion that the king had certainly been put into an unenviable situation. “I suppose you must do what you feel you must, under the circumstances. And I would certainly not want the queen to be uncomfortable here. But the punishment seems harsh, also. Is that, too, a part of the Elvish law?”
“Actually, yes. But banishment for life is a much longer sentence for the Eldar, you know,” the king said, letting out a little laugh.
“True enough. Still…” Faramir couldn’t think of any way to explain to the king that the deeds that he had just banned were, well, not exactly common in Gondor, but tacitly accepted and ignored when they did occur, since they did no harm to anyone.
“It’s not something that I imagine having to enforce often,” Elessar continued. “With the Elves, it’s easier to know whether they have done any such thing, as another Elf can feel if they… but that’s neither here nor there.”
Faramir suppressed a sigh of relief that the king had stopped himself before explaining fully. There were things in the world that he didn’t need to know.
He tried a few more lines of argument, but Elessar only looked harried, shrugged his shoulders, and muttered something about Elvish sensibilities. Faramir reluctantly gave up and made his exit, as he could think of nothing else to say.
* * *
By the time Faramir had left the presence of the king, it was already too late in the day to return home. This did not entirely dismay him; it would give him time to think of some way to change Elessar’s mind, or perhaps find out where some of the councilors stood on the matter. It would also give him time to think of a way to break the news to Boromir if he could not do anything. He made his way distractedly to his old chambers, let himself in, and sank heavily down onto the bed.
“I take it that didn’t go well.”
Faramir started, and turned to see Boromir’s ghost lazing casually next to him. “Nay, not particularly. But first, how did you… why are you…?”
“Being dead has its advantages,” Boromir said, buffing his spectral fingernails on his spectral tunic.
Faramir nodded contemplatively, and then went on to explain the situation.
Boromir listened, frowning. “Should have guessed,” he muttered when Faramir fell silent. A few moments passed. “So what is your plan to change his mind?” Boromir asked.
“I haven’t got one,” Faramir admitted. “Any ideas?”
“Hm. I suppose it would do no good to remind him that Men are not Elves, or that Gondor got on fine without Elvish laws for quite a while?”
Faramir shook his head. “I already mentioned that to him.”
“And I suppose it wouldn’t help to remind him that Gondor got on fine without a king for quite a while too?”
Faramir swatted him—or rather, swatted the air—as he was not at all in the mood to have that argument again.
Silence reigned. Faramir was lost in thought, but his brother’s ghost began grinning deviously. “Then it’s back to my plan.”
“Which plan?” Faramir thought back to their earlier conversation, and very much wasn’t sure he wanted his dead brother dashing off full-tilt to incite revolution.
“Not obeying,” Boromir said cheerfully. “Say… it’s been a while since I was in your old chambers. Lots of fond memories here. Like that time when you were seventeen, and I…”
“Shh!” Faramir would have clapped a hand over his brother’s mouth if that had been possible anymore. As it was, he put as much ferociousness into his shushing as he could muster, and gave Boromir a piercing glare. He had been trying not to call to his mind that occasion, or any of the countless others like it—to call those memories merely pleasant would be to understate them greatly.
Boromir only laughed. “Little brother, you worry too much. He would not banish you, of all people. And if he does happen to find out… well, what better reason could you give why this law is perhaps not such a fantastic idea?”
Boromir’s ghost wafted stubbornly closer to him, and Faramir decided, after some consideration, that his plan was worth a try. He closed his eyes, and let himself feel the first shivers of a familiar touch…
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Date: 2007-09-12 06:41 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-09-12 07:17 am (UTC)