Mirrors of the Soul
He looked down one last time upon his brother’s face. How he knew it was the last time he could not tell. He was not a visionary, like his brother. He had the practical intellect of a soldier. Yet he knew in his heart that he would never return to the White City, never look into Faramir’s eyes again.
Before him he saw only darkness and death. So he looked down for one long moment, drawing strength from his brother’s eyes, alight with tears. Faramir’s eyes had always held his soul in them for all the world to see. From the moment Boromir had peered over the edge of the baby’s cradle and seen those eyes, he had loved Faramir was a fierce, protective passion.
He remembered the day they had made paper boats to send off into the current of the Anduin, to freedom and adventures they had both longed to share. How Faramir's eyes had shone with delight. He remembered Faramir’s eyes the day their mother died. It was the same raw pain, the same desolation he saw now. He bent down a fraction toward his brother, wanting to say some word of hope, something to erase the pain in those eyes.
The words died in his throat. He saw, reflected in his brother’s eyes, the vision of darkness and death that had come to him. He tore his eyes from that mirror and, turning his horse away, left the White City forever.
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for starlight's birthday, with reference to one of her watercolors