Characters: Faramir, implied Théodred/Boromir
Disclaimer:Nope, not mine
A/N: Takes place during the Diplomatic Relations timeline.
“What happened there?” Faramir pointed to Boromir’s forearm.
Boromir looked, puzzled, and saw a hand-shaped bruise. He cursed the warm weather which had caused him to roll his sleeves to the elbow. “You know I am not as accomplished in bare-handed fighting as some,” he replied casually. “Théodred thought to teach me a sly trick or two.”
“Perhaps he should teach me,” Faramir mused, and Boromir choked on his ale. “ But I am sure Father thinks me too young to learn such fighting.”
“You will have the chance to learn soon enough,” Boromir sympathised. Though certainly not from Théodred.