Exile: 3. Penitence

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3. Penitence

Chapter Three – Penitence

Once, only once did Boromir look back upon his City and weep. Its splendor had always held sway over him. He could envision nothing quite as beautiful…. Except Faramir. He bit his lip, flinching at the pain of the brutalized lower fold, and faced westward, with no clear idea of where he was headed or what he would do. All he knew, in the aching depths of his heart, was that he had lost everything dear to him. Everything.

He took to hiding in the Drúadan Forest; spending nights huddled in caves or makeshift lean-tos. Days, he spent hunched in somber thought, always facing eastward, always towards Minas Tirith – and Faramir. He agonized over all that had transpired on that last day. Seeing Faramir wash in the morning, watching with lust-filled eyes as his brother's cock, limp and beautiful, swayed with Faramir's morning ablutions. When his brother left their room, Boromir had done the only thing he could do. He took Faramir's pillow, placed it over his head, breathed in the musky scent, and gave his oblation to his brother as he came, again and again.

It did not satisfy. Nothing satisfied, even though he moaned loud enough to be heard on the First Circle. He spent the rest of the day pacing the balcony of the highest tower in Minas Tirith, screaming his frustration, his love, and his abject horror at the feelings that now controlled him. He could stand it no longer. Nightfall found him in that curséd brothel. He sealed his own doom in that one word.

In his latest cave, Boromir flailed himself each morning, recognizing that, if only he had stayed that one word, that one damning word, he would now be with his brother, in his City. Ever he dwelt on that last moment with Faramir's scent in his nostrils. He could find no other solution but the one he had condemned himself to.

By the evening, each evening, his lip bloodied, his back covered with welts from the hand-made whip, his forehead scraped and raw from pounding it into the earth, he fell into exhausted sleep. He did not know, could not tell, what caused him to mutilate himself. Was it to sate his lust for Faramir or to seek forgiveness from whichever Valar he had unknowingly offended? Right now, he did not care. His arms ached to hold Faramir.

Boromir knew he was going mad and wondered if Saruman, during his last visit, had placed some spell of depravation upon him. He shook his head and cringed at the pain. Drawing in a breath to steady himself, he cursed. More than two years ago, he had recognized and accepted his carnal love for Faramir. The wizard could be blamed – by someone with less sense!

Seeking respite from such ruinous thoughts, he took himself in hand and came with hardly a pull. The moment did not last as he felt hands on his shoulders and heard chortling. He turned and faced a band of Drúin. One hit him. The sudden attack from the stocky creature made him stagger. Boromir looked up in surprise and was backhanded. The blow rocked him. He fell. He did all in his power to stay the assault, but one of the creatures sat on him. Two others held his arms while a fourth repeatedly kicked his ribs.

Boromir cried out. His attackers did not hear, or did not understand. Blood ran down his throat and he choked on it. The Drúin seemed not to notice. The pummeling continued until Boromir could not breathe. His eyes closed in final surrender.


A/N – Drúin (plural) Dru (singular) - Sindarin for the native Drughu.

This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

Story Information

Author: Alcardilme

Status: General

Completion: Work in Progress

Era: 3rd Age - The Stewards

Genre: Romance

Rating: Adult

Last Updated: 02/21/12

Original Post: 07/18/10

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