Author's Note: This story is written based on a discussion on Facebook about similarities between the Thor/Loki brotherhood relationship and the Boromir/Faramir brotherhood relationship (no slash or incest here, seriously people). Similarly, there are parallels between the Faramir/Eowyn and Loki/Jane romances.

And so this story was born. It's pure fluff; no action at all. I hope everyone likes it.

This is set in late-ROTK, but before Faramir and Eowyn have formed a bond, and after Thor 2. I'm completely ignoring timeline continuity and the fact that this concept is highly improbable at best. Just go with it. If you hate it, you can tell me so at the end.

When the Ale Speaks

With a whisper of magic, Loki Odinson appeared on a street paved in white stone. He frowned as he realized that this was not the tavern on Vanaheim he intended to find. Then he shrugged. If he didn't know exactly where in the Cosmos he was, that likely meant that no one here knew him either. What he really needed was a place to allow his wound to finish healing while he figured out his next step. And perhaps a great deal of ale.

His garb of leather and armor didn't seem to be attracting attention; neither did his weapons. So with another shrug, he stepped cautiously inside. He paused inside the doorway and looked around; the tavern was busy but not overly so. Most of the patrons looked to be soldiers or guards of some kind; most wore an emblem that resembled a white tree but not all. Loki took a seat at the far end of the counter and signaled the bar man for a drink. Moments later, a mug was set in front of him.

Loki drank in silent isolation for over an hour. The drinks kept coming, and he was starting to feel pleasantly blurred. His wound hurt less, though how much of that was his natural healing and how much was the ale, he couldn't have said. In either case, he was hardly one to quibble about inconsequential details.

Loki was about to call for another ale when a man slumped into the chair beside him. A quick glance around showed that there were few seats left open for anyone, so Loki just shifted a little further into the corner and tried to ignore the other man's presence.

"You look like you could use more than a drink, friend." The man beside him spoke with a soft, cultured voice that held its own measure of pain. "I've not seen you around here before. I'm Faramir."

Loki turned to face Faramir and nodded slowly. "Loki," he replied, his voice carefully held neutral though he was ready to vanish if need be. But the name drew no recognition from Faramir and the man simply nodded.

"Are you new to Minas Tirith, then? Or just come from the war?" Faramir asked, trying to elicit some response.

"I was in a battle somewhat recently," Loki said, his tone even. "I am… still recovering, you might say."

Faramir nodded. "There have been many wounded by the hordes of Mordor," he answered. "I myself am only recently allowed out of the Houses of Healing."

Loki carefully kept his reaction to himself and simply nodded. Mordor? Minas Tirith? What sort of Realm had he landed in? Clearly not one of the Nine, and not one he had ever studied for that matter. "I trust you are healing well?" he asked after a moment of silence. Though he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to continue a conversation, he would learn more if he engaged someone.

"Well enough," Faramir answered. "And you?"

Loki allowed his expression to show a calculated grimace. "It will heal," he said, affecting stoicism. He took another long pull of his ale.

"Another," Loki called jovially to the bar man a few hours later. He slammed his tankard onto the bar top and watched as Faramir did the same, though not hard enough so as to break the vessel. Even drunk, Loki was nowhere near as careless as Thor.

"So, tell me, friend Loki," Faramir began, his quiet voice somewhat slurred with an excess of drink. "What really brings such pain to your eyes, that you come here to drown it?"

Loki studied his new friend, a long and calculating look. "I could ask you the same," he replied, evading an answer.

"A lovely lady, the loss of a brother, and a father who never cared until it was too late," Faramir summarized. Loki merely raised an eyebrow and remained silent, waiting. "When my brother died with the Fellowship, my father took it hard," he finally elaborated with a sigh. "He told me he wished it had been me, for he loved my brother best. Never did I have a chance to prove myself his equal. In all things, Boromir was our father's son. I could never be the Captain he was, nor the heir."

"I know the feeling," Loki answered quietly when Faramir stopped to gaze morosely into his ale. Blue eyes met green and Loki nodded, answering the surprise and the strange kinship he felt with this man who somehow had a similar past to his own. "My brother was ever the favorite of our father," Loki went on. "The brave warrior, the bold and daring. Never could my studies, my powers or my skills be equal to Thor's prowess in battle. No matter that he could be rude, boorish, stubborn and quick-tempered; my quick thought and subtler skills would never be his match."

"Your brother still lives, then?" Faramir asked slowly, noting that Loki's tale did seem quite similar to his own past, though not the recent past.

"Oh, yes," Loki sneered, then grimaced. "He lives and has learned somewhat of respect for others. But he is still quick to anger, quick to fight. And still father's favorite, despite having been banished for a time until he learned a lesson in valuing life."

"My brother never had that particular problem," Faramir said with a shake of his head. He paused as the barkeep brought them another round of drinks and surrendered the empty tankard in exchange for a full one. "He was simply everyone's favorite. A brave Captain, whom everyone followed with good heart and spirit. He was well loved by the army. My Rangers would follow me into anything, even into death, but I have not the great recognition my brother had."

"Sounds familiar," Loki agreed. "My brother is a great warrior. He is well liked by the guards and fighters alike; the common folk tell tales of his great battles." Loki sighed and shrugged. "I have been in most of those battles, by his side and watching his back. Yet no one remembers those details."

Faramir reached out and rested a gentle hand on Loki's shoulder. "It is hard to live in the shadow of a beloved sibling, is it not?" he asked, his voice warm with camaraderie and kinship.

"It is," Loki agreed, uncommon sincerity in his voice. "So, tell me about this lovely lady that you mentioned. Does her heart belong to your brother as well?"

"Nay," Faramir shook his head again. "She is smitten with he who will shortly become King, Lord Aragorn."

"I see," Loki replied in as gentle a tone as he could muster. "And does he return her affections?"

"I do not believe he does. I have heard tale of an Elvish maiden who holds his heart," Faramir replied, his tone sad but his expression showing that his sorrow was for her rather than himself.. "And even if the tales are not true, he does not behave as a man in love with her would."

"Has she realized his heart is not for her?"

"In her heart, I believe she knows this," Faramir said with a sigh that was almost lost in the noise of the tavern. "But the hopes and dreams of the heart are not easily forsaken."

Loki nodded. "This, I know as well. I..." He trailed off, uncertain of what he might have gone on to say.

"Is there a woman who makes your heart beat faster?" Faramir inquired, curiosity easing the sadness in his voice.

"Perhaps," Loki admitted quietly, his gaze on his mug rather than his companion. He lifted it and tossed back the last of its contents, signaling for one more round. "She, like most everyone, is fascinated by my brother. When I first met her, she hated me for a wrong I once did to her people. At that first meeting, she hit me in retribution for things I had done. And oh, she was lovely with the fires of anger dancing in her eyes and determination set in her face." A small smile touched Loki's face as he remembered the moment. "She held no fear of me, though many others have."

"And yet, you feel she will never waver from your brother." Faramir's expression held a knowing, sympathetic look when Loki glanced over. They shared a nod and a sigh as they received full tankards once more. "Does she at least have hope of a happy future with him?" Faramir asked.

"Perhaps," Loki answered slowly. "Though in my admittedly biased opinion, they have little in common. She is brilliant as well as beautiful, and my brother has never excelled at scholarship. I fear she will be hurt by his continued lack of understanding or interest in the subjects she loves so dearly. Nor will she likely ever be truly interested in his skill as a warrior. Impressed yes, I fail to see how she wouldn't be, but not interested."

Faramir frowned. "Perhaps their differences will make their commonalities the stronger?"

"For her sake, we may hope so," Loki said after a long moment of silence; the din of voices around them seemed quite loud in that moment. "Even if it does so, however, he will outlive her by a great many years. Our people live for millennia, and hers for perhaps a century."

Faramir frowned. "You don't appear to be an Elf, but I know of no other race on Middle Earth that lives so long."

Loki shook his head, silently cursing himself for his slip. "We are not Elves, my friend, but I am from a great deal further away than you know. Please, just accept this. It would take far too long to explain."

Faramir looked skeptical, but finally nodded. "Very well. I suppose it matters not. So in time, she will age and die and he will not. And there is no way to prevent this."

Loki shook his head. "Not without magic greater than any my brother might master," Loki answered with a sigh.

"Would she not face the same fate with you?" Faramir asked.

Loki paused, thinking. "Possibly," he said at last. "But if it were me, I would go to the furthest reaches of the Realms to seek an alternative for her, should she wish it."

"You do not believe your brother would do this?"

"I believe that my brother would accept that nothing could be done, if others were to tell him so," Loki answered. "I believe he would trust that they were correct and not seek further for another answer."

"And you would not." It was not a question; Faramir's eyes showed his understanding.

"I would not," Loki agreed, surprising himself by the depth of his feeling for one wayward mortal. "There is much that can be done that others might believe impossible; it is more a question of whether the results are worth the cost. But for her, any cost would be worth at least considering."

Faramir nodded and smiled. "Then I will hope for you to have the chance to prove that to her. Perhaps she will come to the same conclusions about your brother that you have, if she is as brilliant as you say." He pushed away his empty tankard and shook his head when the barman looked their way.

Though he barely dared to hope, Loki returned Faramir's smile. "And I shall hope that you fare better with your lady. Perhaps you can be the one to give her heart some ease as she comes to terms with her unrequited emotion; then your heart may become the one she seeks."

In reply, Faramir held out his hand and Loki took it. They clasped forearms in a warrior's clasp. "Come, the hour grows late and we should both find some rest. The better to continue healing. I have a place you may sleep, if you have not yet found lodging," Faramir made the offer even as he tossed a handful of coin onto the bar; enough to cover them both.

"I have elsewhere I must be, I fear," Loki replied. "But I thank you for your hospitality all the same. Perhaps someday we shall meet again."

"May it be so," Faramir agreed as they began to walk towards the tavern exit. "If you ever have need of me, word can be left with any of the guards at the upper tier of the city."

"I shall keep that in mind," Loki answered. And he would. He couldn't remember the last time someone offered him friendship without strings attached, and Loki hoped he could find his way back to this strange world.

The two parted amicably and Loki melted into the shadows to transport himself back to Asgard. After all, he had work to do.

End.