A/N: Marigold gave me the first 11 words as a challenge story starter back in 2004 and several versions of the rest have been in the works ever since. It languished under a different title for a long time but has hopefully found some more focus under the new one. I am always grateful for feedback :-) 

Brothers In Arms: Chapter One

The sky was filled with low black clouds that swirled eerily, chased across the sky by glacial winds sweeping down from the mountains to the east. As dull light crept across the horizon, transforming starless night into grey dawn, the Fellowship wearily sought what shelter it could find beneath a copse of skeletal trees.

After their small meal Boromir quietly took himself away from the others, seeking a vantage point on a boulder nearby, and brought blankets with him to ward off the chill of wind and stone. Some nagging and persistent worry at the very edge of his thought had been bothering him all night and, though weary, Boromir was glad of the opportunity to be alone, to think. With an uneasy sigh he sat down and pulled his cloak more tightly about his neck, turning away from the others and letting his thoughts wander off into the distance, hoping that in the quiet he might understand the reason for his worries – another premonition, perhaps? Were things going ill in Gondor...?

  *

Pippin was lying awake near his cousins, trying to imagine that he was in a real bed and not shivering at all, when he heard Boromir start murmuring to himself. He glanced up over the mound of blankets that had been heaped on him and stood up shakily, forgetting for a moment that his legs had worked so hard all night. He was glad that someone else was awake. It was better to talk about things when you were in a thoughtful mood, and he had been too breathless and cold to keep up much of a conversation on last night’s hike. Boromir had been quiet too and, as Pippin crept quietly across the camp, he wondered if the man would find his burdens easier if they were shared.

Boromir turned around with a start when he heard a small voice call his name. The youngest halfling – Pippin – was at his side, and Boromir stared at him for a moment, trying to drag his thoughts back to where they should rightfully be, here guarding the hobbits. That, surely, was his most pressing duty now, but part of him resisted this, distracting him with possibilities, reasons he should be...

 “Can I join you on watch tonight, Boromir?” Pippin smiled up at him, his teeth chattering even though he had wrapped himself from head to toe in his cloak and a blanket. “I haven’t had a turn yet, and Strider hasn’t said when I’ll get one. I’ll be quiet, naturally,” he added, a less-than-meek grin accompanying his words.

“Naturally.” Boromir could not help but smile back at Pippin, certain that the hobbit could make himself more useful by resting well. He had started to lag behind earlier, long before they were near to a rest stop, and a most unnatural silence had preceded even that. Boromir, glancing over Pippin’s shoulder, noticed one of the other Halflings raise his head. He did not know them well enough yet to be sure, but from his experience so far he could guess that it was one of Pippin’s cousins, worrying that the youngest was being a bother, or that he would tire himself out in being so.

But there was something in Pippin’s eyes that stopped Boromir from sending him away. That bright determination reminded him of another young lad who used to look at him that way when he was still seeking his place in the world. In those days Boromir had never been able to refuse him anything, and his heart grieved at the thought. So very far away now, those days.

Boromir nodded his assent to Pippin who sat back, satisfied, and fumbled in a pocket for his pipe, trying to light it with clumsy fingers as he settled more comfortably in his blankets.

For a little while Pippin stayed true to his word and kept quiet, watching the shadows of the clouds race across the plains, and the thin patches of light that glimmered briefly on the waters of a grey winding river in the distance. The bright flashes lifted his heart somehow, reminding him of clear skies and sunlight, and days when he might have found himself carefree and idling beside the Brandywine.

The pipeweed, now lit, was warming his insides agreeably and Pippin smiled a little at his recollections as another bright flash of sunlight glinting off the rippled waters of the river. He looked up at Boromir, and saw that his companion was watching the horizon thoughtfully too. 

To Boromir, this dreary landscape bore little more than a ghost of a resemblance to his youth close to the Pelennor and the great Anduin, but the sudden thought of his brother brought with it other memories, sunny moments long-eclipsed by the growing shadow of the Enemy. 

 “Do you think about home often, Boromir?”

Boromir shifted; Pippin had come uncomfortably close to reading his thoughts, although it was only an innocent question from a lad who missed his home. It was Pippin who had brought his brother to mind, after all, so why not talk of him? The distant river again drew his attention, as though beckoning him to a place he could never go back to. Those days they had spent beside a wide and peaceful stretch of the Anduin where he had taught his brother to fish and to swim. Useful tools for a soldier; but at six years old Faramir was still eager to make every lesson into a game.

“My father was always more severe with Faramir, and the lad pushed himself hard to learn and show me that his growing strength would lead him to my side in battle one day. But in those few days, far away from our father’s presence and the reminder that what he was doing was not for fun, he was just a boy who wanted to enjoy every moment of his freedom. In the evenings we cooked what we had fished and hunted, and set up a simple camp. Later, Faramir liked to watch the stars and tell me one of Gandalf’s stories. Gandalf was as beloved as a grandfather to the boy and Faramir recalled almost every word he ever told him. Strength he had, though he did not know it yet… and a noble heart. Though we saw him little through the years I think that Gandalf must have taught him well.”

Never having imagined Boromir as young, or as having a little brother, Pippin listened attentively to his simple tale, which sounded so much like one he might also have told, if it was not for the fact that Boromir’s life apparently held few moments such as these, his childhood short and sadder than anything Pippin had ever known. Even so, the memory of that time seemed fair to Boromir who became gentler as he talked of it, his present cares edged away at least for a moment.

“What was the story?” Pippin asked, keen to prolong this conversation.

“The story?” Boromir repeated, with a blank look.

“Yes, the one that Faramir told you.”

“If I recall, it was of the Battle of Five Armies, near to the Lonely Mountain,” Boromir replied, “Although of course I know now that Gandalf did not tell us the whole story.”

Pippin’s eyes glowed. “That’s right, he only deemed Hobbits worthy of the truth!” He stopped as it suddenly dawned on him that he had never spoken of this to anyone other than a Hobbit before… or Gandalf, who didn’t count. Sitting by the fireside as a lad he never dreamed that he would one day talk of Bilbo with a soldier of Men, and yet Bilbo’s stories had taken on so many new meanings since they had left the Shire.

“I suppose you would never have believed that someone like Bilbo could have travelled across Middle-earth and done all that he did, would you?”

“I suppose not,” Boromir replied thoughtfully. “We were raised to believe that great men are strong, and wise… Soldiers. But we would have had reason to admire Bilbo more than any of his companions, if we had known of him.”

“Why? Because he was smaller than the others?”

“Partly, though I was thinking of his courage. In Gondor, men quickly learn what it is to face the unknown, but Bilbo was willing to leave a comfortable life for dangers he could not even imagine.”

“That’s not courage, Boromir,” Pippin grinned. “That’s just Tookishness. But don’t tell Frodo I said that.”

Boromir laughed aloud, a deep laugh that sounded almost deafening in the stifling quiet around them.

“I wish I had known of Halflings before,” he said, sober once more. “It might have offered us more hope if we had known of a free and happy people living far from the Shadow’s reach.”

“Think of the Shire gives me hope,” Pippin agreed. “I have many stories similar to yours and I like to keep them close to me when we are on these long walks. It reminds me that those are the things that are real, and all this is just for a short time.”

He told Boromir in turn of how Frodo and Merry had taught him to swim during lazy summer days beside the Brandywine.

“I’ve known them since before I even remember,” he laughed. “So they are my brothers too in every way that matters.”

“And that is what has kept you together,” Boromir nodded, his tone holding only a hint of a question.

“Yes,” Pippin smiled, glancing over at his friends; the warmth of that knowledge was one of the parts of him that had never needed questioning.

It saddened him that Boromir could not say the same. “But what of your brother?”

“By rights Faramir should have been the one to journey to Imladris, and you would have known him instead.” Boromir raised his eyebrows at the hobbit, apparently guessing that this was not the answer Pippin would have expected.

Pippin’s response was only a questioning frown, so he went on. “The dreams that led me to the House of Elrond were Faramir’s, for the most part, but I came in his stead, not wishing him to go so far into unknown lands… even though I know as well as any of us that whatever path we take in these times may lead us into peril.”

“What happened?” Pippin whispered, overwhelmed with curiosity. “I don’t expect he wanted you to go either, did he?”

“No,” Boromir admitted. “And neither did my father, who thought it a foolish errand. His thoughts lay ever more with the defense of our borders, not with the fanciful hopes of his younger son. Yet he saw that there was need enough to seek counsel, so I left for Imladris on the same day that he made his decision, knowing that the longer I delayed the more foolish I would think it.”

He paused, heaved a deep breath and looked up at the desolate horizon, his eyes grey and troubled as the stormclouds overhead. “The last I saw my brother, he was watching me ride away, with a look in his eyes that I cannot forget. I do not know if he expects to see me again, and perhaps I feel it too, a strange dread…”

Boromir looked at Pippin then, mute apology in his eyes, even caution, as though he feared to say too much. Pippin was growing accustomed to the Big Folk’s reticence, but in all his life he had never needed to be careful of what he said, or anything but innocent mischief to hide, and only since he had left the Shire had he begun to learn the value of knowing when to be quiet.

He wasn’t learning as quickly as he thought he was, though, for Boromir had been unusually open tonight and Pippin forgot himself. “What are you afraid of?” he asked before he could stop himself, and the words died on his lips as he looked up at Boromir and glimpsed an expression in his eyes that frightened him. He closed his mouth then, and waited, his heart beating quickly.

For a moment there seemed to be a struggle within Boromir, then the dark expression faded, and he was himself once more.

“I do not like to talk of fear,” he said quietly. “But I feel great unease when I think of my people unprotected, facing the Enemy alone. I must return, and I hope that one day you shall see the White City with your own eyes so that you will understand.”

As he turned to Pippin his eyes lit up with a sudden smile. “Many times have I imagined the day I will return, the trumpets sounding and our flag flying proudly in the wind, and my brother riding out to greet us. That is how I would have it be, for I wish very much to prove him wrong, if it is true that he despairs of my return.”

Although he could not possibly imagine Minas Tirith – Weathertop was the only place Pippin knew built by men like Boromir – he saw in Boromir’s eyes the same longing he felt in his own heart for the simple woods and fields of the Shire. Yet Boromir fell silent again and looked down at his sword, which lay across his legs; his hand had never strayed from its hilt all the time they had been sitting there.

“I do understand, Boromir,” Pippin finally said, though his heart went out in pity to the younger brother his friend had left behind. Pippin would have been the one to stay behind, too, if Merry had had his way, and he felt a strange compassion already for this man he had never met.

Having left that bitter argument far behind him now, Pippin was grateful, when he felt brave enough, that there was no turning back, for it was beyond him to imagine what it might be like if he had never been allowed to leave home, or how it would feel to wait for his best friends to come back from a journey too important and dangerous for him to ever understand… like poor old Fatty, probably still wondering if they had ever made it through the Old Forest.

Unwilling to share with Boromir how very nearly he was left behind, Pippin said only, “You’ll see your brother again; I’m sure of it.” He may not have a picture in his mind of what Boromir’s homecoming would look like, but he believed in it just as surely as he did his own. It was impossible not to believe that this great captain of Men would lead his people proudly once again.

But will he still recognise me? It was a thought too terrible to dwell on, yet it now stood there defiant at the forefront of Boromir’s mind as all the other half-formed plans and wishes and desires swirled around it.

“I am sure he’ll forgive you for going on this mission instead of him,” Pippin added, after a long pause, not seeming to notice as Boromir’s head jerked up sharply, wondering if he had spoken his last thought aloud.

If he had, Pippin did not say. Instead the lad looked up at him frankly and added, “You should tell him that you were traveling with Gandalf – and helping us as well. For my part, and I’m sure I speak for the others, it means even more to know that you are helping us now, when you are needed so much elsewhere, and would much rather be with your family.”

Boromir smiled suddenly, and looked at Pippin, seeming to really see him for the first time in their whole conversation. “All of us have many duties, Pippin… to our families, to our people, and to what we think is right. It is up to us to decide which duty we must put first… and I am glad that, in this, we have chosen alike. Such noble companionship encourages me and I am sure that Faramir would approve.”

“Thank you, Boromir,” Pippin flushed slightly, “but I am quite sure that us Hobbits are more encouraged by your presence than you are by ours.”

There was genuine warmth in Boromir’s voice when he spoke. “I hope I have not burdened you too much with my own cares, Pippin. You Hobbits remind us daily of what must not be lost. But you must know that there are very few people in this world with whom I would speak so freely…  Is it true that anyone who spends enough time in the company of Hobbits begins to behave like them?”

“Well, you know Gandalf,” Pippin replied drily. “He’s nearly as cracked as old Bilbo and Strider will go that way too one day if he’s not careful.”

He shook his head, disarmed by the affection in the man’s eyes, and how much Boromir seemed to see in him. “But we are friends, aren’t we, Boromir?” he said after an awkward pause. “We are meant to help each other, after all.”

Boromir nodded and clasped his shoulder wordlessly. Pippin felt an indescribable sense of pride at this gesture, as though at last fully accepted as an equal by somebody stronger, wiser, braver. A comfortable silence fell upon them for a short time, until a faint rumble of thunder far in the distance suggested they would not be spared the storm for much longer.

As the first drops of rain began to fall, Legolas emerged out of the shadows to take their watch and Pippin was happy to relinquish his watch to the elf, knowing at least that a bond had somehow developed during the course of this sleepless morning. He returned to his sleeping friends gladly, crawling beneath a blanket beside Merry to find his cousin’s grey eyes on him as he shuffled about for a moment, trying to get comfortable. “Hullo, Merry,” he whispered. “Sorry for waking you.”

“You didn’t,” Merry whispered back. He yawned widely and Pippin stopped his shuffling and narrowed his eyes at him, suddenly certain that Merry must have overheard nothing less than the entire conversation.

“What were you doing awake all this time, Meriadoc?” he hissed.

“That’s rich, coming from you, Pip,” Merry muttered. “How do you think I can sleep with you wittering on all night and making Boromir wake everyone up laughing.”

“You do exaggerate,” Pippin replied mildly, gesturing at the unconscious Ringbearer behind him. As their gaze turned back from Frodo to each other, the two cousins shared a look and Pippin smiled, seeing the unspoken pride in Merry’s eyes. 

“You were listening,” Pippin whispered, his eyes gleaming.

“I’m a Brandybuck, Peregrin. You know my ways quite well enough.” Merry lay back and pulled his blankets around himself more tightly. “You could quite easily have been a bother, after all.”

“I know,” Pippin said around a sudden, wide yawn. “But I was just trying to help. I know he wanted to be alone, but he didn’t need to be.”

“No,” Merry whispered back, his gaze wandering back to Boromir arranging his blankets some distance away, to Legolas perched on a rock surveying the horizon, and to the rumbling Gimli asleep in between. “But do you think that he will still want to leave, when the time comes?”

“If he does, I think it will be for the right reasons,” Pippin said thoughtfully. “He won’t just leave us. I don’t think any of them will, not after that oath they took. So stop your worrying, Meriadoc, and go to sleep.”

“All right, Pip.” Merry lay back and lifted up his blankets for a moment to feel raindrops on his cheeks, and smiled. “This may be the most miserable place in all of Middle Earth, but I’m glad you’re here, you know.”

Pippin smiled back, sure in the warmth of his cousins surrounding him. “I’m glad I am, too.”

...TBC