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Nancy Brooke Like many I first came to the Lord of the Rings trilogy at about ten years old having exhausted the Chronicles of Narnia, and never really left. Always looking to expand the fantasy experience, I began reading fanfic around seven years ago, and writing it soon after. My stories center primarily around Boromir. To me he has always been the most compelling character: his flaws endearingly human, his pride and valor absolutely magnetic, his story - in many ways - that of all Middle Earth struggling between the old order and the new. I am forty-two years old, married, and the mother of a five-year-old girl. We live in the Mid-Atlantic region of the United States. Nancy Brooke is a pen name. Nesta Nesta is a Faramir fanatic of long standing, but has a soft spot for Boromir as well. If she lived in Middle-Earth it would be in Minas Tirith and as close to Faramir's house as possible, unless she got evicted for swooning whenever she saw him and so cluttering the place up. Meanwhile, she lives in hope, and in the vicinity of Cambridge, UK. She'd write Faramir fanfics for a living if it were possible, but since it isn't, she does technical translating and writes Faramir fanfics to keep herself sane. SueB Sue B. is a long-time Lord of the Rings fan and a recent convert to the charms of the Brothers of Gondor. She has found the relationship between Boromir and Faramir quite intriguing and fun to explore, and was inspired by both Tolkien's work and the performances of Sean Bean and David Wenham in the recent movie adaptation. In this piece, she takes a look at the brothers when they were still quite young and carefree, before the dark shadows of war began to fully impact their lives. In addition to the Lord of the Rings universe, Sue has also written many tales based on the CBS TV series The Magnificent Seven. 7
Home and Away by Acacea Boromir had always liked this little courtyard by the walls tucked in a quiet, sun-drenched nook behind the stables, away from the bustle of the city, accessible only through a narrow path overgrown with grass and wildflowers. It was paved with dulled white stones, and bordered by a narrow strip of wild grass. An old lemon tree stood in one corner, its laden branches hanging over the walls; and a small stone bench placed beneath it for anyone wishing to enjoy the view in comfort. He and Faramir had often sat here on warm afternoons, watching the plains and the river, a winding band of silver with tiny boats bobbing up and down it. If one leaned out a little and tried, as Faramir was doing at that moment, one could see all the way down to the quays, and even the hazy green land across the river. It was just the place he wanted to be right now. He had to leave the next day to join his troop at Pelargir, after a fortnight on furlough. He was not meant to be home this early in the year but he had received a nasty cut to his sword arm at Osgiliath, and had been ordered to report to the healers in the city. Much as he had relished the time spent at home, he found he was anxious to rejoin his troop. Yet at the same time he felt unhappy at leaving behind his younger brother who seemed so much older now than the last time he’d seen him. With Faramir set to join the rangers in a year’s time, Boromir suddenly felt very unsure of how often they could spend time together like this again. He had completed his duties for the day. He had risen early, packed away most of his things, then breakfasted with his father so that they could discuss the situation with the corsairs yet again. Then he had written out all of the myriad reports his father seemed to want before he left, working swiftly yet meticulously. The time was well spent for it had left him free to spend the afternoon here with Faramir. They had had very little time together on this visit, first with the healers cooping him up, and then the situation in Pelargir necessitating endless meetings with his father and the council. They had brought food with them; it was late in the afternoon and they were both famished. Boromir had brushed away the ripened lemons that had fallen on the bench and placed the food there. There was warm, soft bread straight from the kitchens, newly churned butter, fresh, crumbly cheese, a pot full of orange-scented, golden honey and a basket of plump red and green apples. 8
Page 2 and 3: Table of Contents Introduction by C
Page 4 and 5: Introduction by Cressida and Lilan,
Page 6 and 7: EdorasLass I've been writing LOTR f
Page 10 and 11: They talked a little while eating,
Page 12 and 13: An Ill-Conceived Notion by Illwynd
Page 14 and 15: “Gailon, have you any liquor in y
Page 16 and 17: in this condition, Ciryandil could
Page 18 and 19: The rest of the night passed withou
Page 20 and 21: Boromir was already about to give a
Page 22 and 23: Grief by Gwyneth The person sitting
Page 24 and 25: 23 Boromir averted his eyes from t
Page 26 and 27: she is gone, and all your hopes and
Page 28 and 29: Sea Food by Annmarwalk Author’s n
Page 30 and 31: Summer 2990, T.A. Rumours and Memor
Page 32 and 33: “Is that true?” “Aye. I read
Page 34 and 35: Journeys in High Places by Illwynd
Page 36 and 37: “I know your excuses by now. You
Page 38 and 39: They walked through ever-changing l
Page 40 and 41: chirped. It was a silence like of t
Page 42 and 43: covering of snow; the ever-blowing
Page 44 and 45: Several hours later, Boromir sat hu
Page 46 and 47: “I cannot spot them; can you see
Page 48 and 49: Faramir thought for a moment, then
Page 50 and 51: him more terrible than to die in ba
Page 52 and 53: numbed, and their feet, kicking thr
Page 54 and 55: Leaves on the Wind: Signaling Storm
Page 56 and 57: and you under the sun. It puts me i
Page 58 and 59:
door. Still, I will take comfort, a
Page 60 and 61:
The time of our separation is over,
Page 62 and 63:
They began to pass through the main
Page 64 and 65:
"But...have you ever done this befo
Page 66 and 67:
snip "I don't think so, little brot
Page 68 and 69:
Faramir looked at the table beside
Page 70 and 71:
alongside him. The warm breeze stir
Page 72 and 73:
son," he said. "May I assume this h
Page 74 and 75:
Denethor did not seem at all surpri
Page 76 and 77:
An observer might wonder what it wa
Page 78 and 79:
name. Better to be Anárion and die
Page 80 and 81:
another thing he’d learned from M
Page 82 and 83:
So this must be the guest from Roha
Page 84 and 85:
Boys at Play by Khorazîr 83
Page 86 and 87:
I did not know any Rangers; I hoped
Page 88 and 89:
They saw guards of the Citadel and
Page 90 and 91:
to identify plants by their leaves,
Page 92 and 93:
Elchim did not laugh, though Halhig
Page 94 and 95:
“You cannot wander about alone at
Page 96 and 97:
wondered how hard it would be to sl
Page 98 and 99:
He laughs, showing fine straight te
Page 100 and 101:
sadness. I wish that we could have
Page 102 and 103:
I pack my things into a few small b
Page 104 and 105:
Boromir dragged a chair to the wind
Page 106 and 107:
‘No, Boromir, that was not why I
Page 108 and 109:
The grime idea had come to Faramir;
Page 110 and 111:
To their great dismay, that proved
Page 112 and 113:
Something in his face clearly made
Page 114 and 115:
Finally, they were at the door to t
Page 116 and 117:
‘Something tells me you are not a
Page 118 and 119:
His eldest was lying sprawled acros
Page 120 and 121:
‘Awaken your brother, ’tis rath
Page 122 and 123:
oof and cracked it in several place
Page 124 and 125:
"Do the young men of Gondor think o
Page 126 and 127:
I see it." They walked to the great
Page 128 and 129:
"To the new year!" the guests repea
Page 130:
Still, Mithrandir thought, it had b
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