Untitled - BoG-Archive

Grief
by Gwyneth
The person sitting unmovingly in the hard wooden chair at the bedside
watched the woman in the bed absently. His beloved’s face was deathly pale, her
cheeks were hollow, her lips dry. The thought that she might feel as miserable as
she looked was unbearable. He averted his eyes from her and stared at the door.
He could not look at her; he could not bear it. But he had to look at her; he had to
watch her, every single moment, waiting for her to wake up. He had to bid his
farewell.
21
Faramir was searching for his brother. Where was he? He had been looking for
Boromir in his rooms, in all the Citadel, even in the Gardens and in their favourite
tavern, though it was highly unlikely to find his brother in the Gardens, that close to the
Houses of Healing, or in the tavern, in the middle of the day. Now he was looking for him
in the practice yard. Here he finally found his brother. He was practicing swordplay with
one of his friends. His hits were unusually hard; his partner had to work hard to beat back
the attacks. Boromir was a strong man in general, but this time he was hitting on his
partner’s sword with such massive energy that one could believe he was not fighting with
his friend in a practice yard, but against the enemy on the battlefield.
In the noise of the swords hitting against each other, Faramir called, “Here you
are, brother. I have been searching for you.”
Without stopping his fight, Boromir shouted angrily, “What do you want?”
Faramir remained calm. “To talk to you.”
”Do you not see I am occupied here?” The next hit was even harder.
”This is important.”
When no answer came, Faramir walked over to his brother, taking his arm.
Boromir stopped fighting, but snapped angrily at the younger brother, “Do not
touch me, Faramir!” He shook off Faramir’s arm and was about to continue his practice.
”Boromir! Stop that. You are doing yourself no good. Stop it. We have to talk.”
After a moment of hesitation, Boromir threw his sword to the ground—a highly
unusual action for a man of war who cared very much about his arms, like Boromir was.
”So—what is it?” Boromir asked impatiently, turning to Faramir.
”Let us go somewhere else,” Faramir said.