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CHAPTER ONE
The setting sun cast long shadows on the mountainsides as
Aragorn looked back in despair, wondering again whether he had acted
correctly. Then he watched the rest of the party that followed him straggling
on, weary in mind and body.
"It will all be well now. We're near Lórien,"
Legolas tried to reassure him. "They can help us there."
"We are nine no more," Aragorn said unhappily,
"First Gandalf," he shuddered as he thought back to the terrible
events that had taken the wizard from them. "And then – I
should not have left him there alone, Legolas! How could I have thought
he would escape unscathed? I should have turned back when we realised
he had not come out with us!"
"Then what of Frodo? He is weary and hurting, Aragorn.
And Sam and Pippin? They are injured. I did not like leaving Faramir
to guard our rear either. I should have stayed back with him to help,"
the elf responded heavily.
"We would never have left Moria had you and Gimli not
cleared our way," Aragorn replied. "We must reach Lórien
soon, Legolas, and then I will return for Faramir."
Bracing himself, Aragorn turned to lead the others forward
again. After a long look back at the mines, Legolas too followed.
Faramir of Gondor came awake slowly. He felt cold and ached
all over, and a foul stench assaulted his nostrils, confusing him greatly.
It was a smell he had come across earlier while fighting near the borders
of Mordor, and for a brief second he thought that was where he might
be – on a battlefield. He forced himself to open his eyes, only
to find that it was of no help. He could see nothing. He panicked at
that and tried to move, sending sharp aches all over his body.
Breathing heavily, he tried to get his senses to respond,
to figure out what was happening. There was no light, he realised; his
eyes had to adjust to the darkness. He was lying on a hard surface;
weaponless. Even his cloak no longer covered him. He was not
in Ithilien, that much he could remember. He was not even in Gondor.
I was travelling, he remembered, with others...
A harsh noise suddenly interrupted his thoughts.
"He's awake," a voice said gleefully, and pain
erupted in the side of his chest as he was viciously kicked.
Faramir cried out involuntarily and tried to curl up to protect
his midriff, pain flaring through various other parts of his body, but
a second kick, this time to the small of his back, sent him rolling
over again. He screwed up his face in pain, and nearly gasped as someone
bent low over him, and the foul smell came nearer, almost making him
gag. An Orc soldier, he thought to himself. Uruk-hai!
"Get up," the creature growled in his ear, even
as he tried to process his muddled thoughts. "It's time to play."
"Hurry up, Lurtz, let's taste this one. He looks a fine
piece," a second voice, much hoarser in tone, rang out in his other
ear, and Faramir instinctively turned towards it.
There were more of them, he realised. At least four more,
and he was trapped among them, his aching body unable to move. He remembered
falling, being struck on his head by a vicious blow, followed by more
blows to various parts of his body. But where was he? They had been
on a quest...
He was dragged up by the largest of them, the one called
Lurtz, and his grey eyes met the Orc's dark leery ones. He tried ineffectually
to struggle, trying to hit the larger creature, kicking his legs out
desperately. His resistance angered the Uruk-hai, who responded by punching
him in the stomach. Faramir cried out in pain.
"The pup resists," Lurtz laughed, a horrible sound
to the man's ears.
"Should we show him what we do to prisoners who try
to resist?" a shorter one asked. More laughter followed as Lurtz
released Faramir, forcing him to fall heavily to the floor. He lay there
gasping softly, clutching his abdomen.
Moria! He remembered. The mines. They had travelled
through the mines. He had been loathe to enter them, and yet had followed
the others, for Mithrandir had said there was no other way. Mithrandir!
There had been a tomb, and then noises, they had fled, then Mithrandir...
He felt himself being dragged across the hard floor, and
then he was thrown forward into a small chamber. He fell against one
of the walls, the side of his head hitting the surface so hard that
he nearly blacked out. He was pulled up by his hair, and slammed against
the wall again.
Where were the others? he wondered in a daze, as
his face was pressed onto the cold rough surface. Mithrandir had fallen,
that terrible creature... but the others? The hobbits, Aragorn, Legolas,
Gimli… he seemed to be alone here, in the blackness.
He felt hands on his body and came to awareness as claw-like
fingers removed his clothes. His shirt was torn off roughly, the rending
sound echoing off the walls of the dark chamber. He struggled frantically,
screaming out as sharp nails scratched his bare skin, only to have his
wrists grabbed, and then encased in cold metal. He tugged ineffectually,
and then realised that his hands were shackled to heavy iron chains
hanging from the ceiling. He fell forward slumping against the wall.
The chains forced his hands above his head, while his feet trailed on
the ground. A rough hand ran over his back, causing him to cry out in
fear.
His face was pressed into the wall once again, stretching
his hands, the pain from the jerking movement travelling all the way
from his shoulders to his wrists.
Hot, rancid breaths hit his neck and cheek as Lurtz pulled
back his hair and grunted in his ear. He felt the sharp blade of a knife
run down the exposed portion of his cheek. He was scared, he realised.
Scared not just for himself, but now for his companions too.
"You miserable little human! I'll show you what you
get for trying to hit me!"
He tried one more time to kick out his legs. He felt his
foot connect with bone, and heard a vile scream from Lurtz's mouth as
he fell back, his knife grazing Faramir's face lightly. A string of
curses followed in a language he could not understand but that by its
very sound sent fear coursing through his veins. The others promptly
sprang into action, and he felt the short one pulling him back from
the wall. The pain travelled through his arms again, causing him to
gasp aloud. Hands grabbed the waistband of his leggings and yanked them
off cruelly, leaving him naked, before he could even force his protesting
limbs to react. A kick to the back of his knees sent him crashing against
the wall.
He moaned.
"What did I tell you, insolent pup!" Lurtz screamed
in his ear, having risen painfully off the floor. He slipped his hand
between Faramir's bare legs, pushing them apart, and Faramir stiffened
as he felt the metal of the knife on the skin of his inner thigh.
"We haven't had our fun yet, or you would know what
I can do to your like," Lurtz gritted out, digging the knife into
the soft skin.
Faramir cried out in pain as the sharp edge dug into his
flesh. Lurtz dragged it viciously up, tearing the skin. A warm trail
of blood gushed down Faramir's leg from the deep, jagged cut.
"Try anything else, you little runt, and I'll take it
higher!"
Faramir fell limply against the wall when the Uruk-hai moved
away, panting softly, unable to support himself on his injured leg.
He dreaded to think what lay ahead, knowing there was no way he could
escape the clutches of these monstrous creatures. There was nothing
he could do but endure whatever they put him through. He shut his eyes
and waited for the torment he knew was yet to come. Even when he heard
the cracking sound of the whip, he didn't react.
Leather knots landed on the bare skin of his back, and he
bit his lip in a bid to stay silent. Soon the air was heavy with the
sound of the lash and the Uruks' chorus of laughter. They took turns
hitting him. The lash was thick and long, and it took but four strikes
before it broke skin; a line of red that ran from his shoulder blade
to nearly the hip bone. Faramir pushed his head against the wall, trying
desperately not to scream. Tears coursed down his cheeks, and he gasped
hoarsely each time the whip landed. He finally had to cry out, inducing
further laughter.
"Little pup is not so brave after all, is he?"
the hoarse one taunted. "He looks much prettier when he bleeds!"
"Hurry!" another one urged. "I don't know
how much longer I can wait to taste him!"
Faramir was barely conscious when the whipping ended and
he was unshackled. He crumpled down, falling right into the short one's
arms.
"My turn first," the Uruk growled.
"No!" said Lurtz, grabbing at Faramir's waist.
Sharp nails raked his skin and he sobbed harshly at the sensation.
"You got to whip him," came the answering growl.
Faramir hung limply in Lurtz's arms as they argued over him. He supposed
he should do something, but he couldn't. He could barely move. His back
and leg were on fire, his ribs throbbed mercilessly, and his arms felt
numb. And all through, his head pounded miserably.
Lurtz suddenly dropped Faramir to the ground, leaping at
the other Uruk-hai in anger. Faramir watched disinterestedly from where
he lay as Lurtz screamed at the shorter one, before stalking back to
him. He pulled him roughly to his feet and dragged him to the far corner
of the room, tossing him facedown onto a wide stone bench. Faramir felt
himself being pulled back so that he lay bent over it on his chest and
stomach, his backside turned up. Behind him, he heard the rustle of
clothing being removed.
Realising what was to come, he tried one last shot at resistance.
"No!" he screamed, vaulting onto his back in a
burst of energy that he hadn't known he still had in him, trying to
fend off the half-naked creature looming over him, the eyes dripping
with lust, the exposed member near-rigid in anticipation.
It was to no avail. They held him down, leaving him on his
back so that the stone scraped his raw wounds. Lurtz grabbed his ankles
and pushed his legs up and apart. Two of the other Uruks held his arms
while Lurtz smiled at him, his leering eyes level with Faramir's terrified
ones. Reaching down he stroked his large member and then leaned forward
and assaulted Faramir's lips with his mouth, his rigid, wet shaft poking
into Faramir's belly, until lack of air caused him to pull away.
"Fight all you like, little one! I like a plaything
that tries to fight!" he said and then pushed into Faramir's unprepared
entrance in one swift motion.
Faramir screamed as the huge organ tore through the tight
ring of muscle, and pushed in relentlessly. Pain exploded through his
lower body, as Lurtz thrust into him repeatedly. He bit into Faramir's
left nipple, his sharp teeth causing the young man to rear up in pain,
which only sent Lurtz into greater raptures. He lifted his head and
grabbed Faramir's waist digging his nails into the soft skin, as the
slender hips bucked under his weight. The Uruks holding Faramir down
had let go, each preferring to concentrate instead on their own needs
at the sight of Lurtz driving into the slender body writhing beneath
him in agony.
With one final, painful thrust Lurtz came inside Faramir.
He lifted his head and threw it back in a wild gesture, howling in pleasure
as he released himself inside the tight passage, his nails digging into
Faramir's waist. When he was done, he pulled out in a quick motion that
caused Faramir to scream again. Then the hoarse one took his turn, and
by the time he was finished, Faramir himself was so hoarse he could
barely whimper in pain. One of the ones who had been holding him down
took him next and this time they turned him onto his stomach, so that
his head dangled off the bench, and while one took him from behind,
the other forced his engorged member down Faramir's throat.
Faramir was not sure how much time had passed, how many times
he was raped, or how many times he had sucked off one of the Uruks before
they started arguing over him again. He had long since lost himself
in some other realm of being, but now the raised voices brought him
back to awareness, to the intense pain and the shock and fear that raced
through his battered body. He lay on the stone bench, on his back now,
his legs dangling off one side, splayed apart, a grotesque mix of blood
and semen trickling down from his abused passage. He was covered with
bruises and deep scratches, in addition to the cuts left by the whip,
and the wound in his leg still bled. His cracked lips bore the sticky
white remains of repeated oral assaults. He could not move. The sounds
of argument stopped and he turned his head dully towards his attackers,
watching as Lurtz and the hoarse one came towards him, leaving three
resentful Uruks standing behind.
"Still alive, little one? Good, you can give us some
more fun!"
Faramir remained there unmoving, as Lurtz grabbed his legs
for the third, or was it the fourth time, and began pushing into him.
He closed his eyes and let his head fall back; hoping he could just
black out, afraid his pain would bring him back to consciousness again.
This time however, it was the clunking sound of footsteps outside the
chamber. Faramir automatically opened his eyes and turned his head slowly
towards the entrance even as Lurtz pulled out of him, suddenly causing
Faramir to let out a soundless cry of pain. All five Uruks turned towards
the door. The footsteps neared, until a figure finally appeared at the
doorway.
CHAPTER TWO
The weary travellers had journeyed as fast as they could,
stopping only to tend the wounded hobbits along the way, but the moon
was high in the sky by the time they reached Nimrodel. In the shadows
they heard murmured elvish conversations and sparkling laughter. They
knew that they were being watched, but the elves stayed hidden.
"Can you not call out to them, Legolas? I must return
soon." Aragorn's voice was desperate.
"You know as well as I that the guardians of Lothlórien
must hail us first," Legolas reminded him gently.
"But what of Faramir? What has happened to him?"
Legolas was silent. He did not like to think whether their
friend was dead, or worse.
"I should leave you and Gimli here with the hobbits
and return to Moria now."
"No, Aragorn, you cannot do that," Legolas insisted.
"Gandalf entrusted their care to you. And how will Sam make it
to Lórien without you? Gimli cannot carry him." Legolas
looked at the tiny hobbit on the man's back, the cut from a stray Orc's
blade on his leg making it difficult for him to walk.
"And I do not suppose you can bear yet another small
hobbit? Aragorn asked, glancing at Pippin riding piggyback behind Legolas.
He sighed, "What ill fortune we have met."
They struggled on, well into the forest of Lórien,
before the guardians hailed them.
"Daro!" said a commanding voice, as three elves
stepped forward from the trees. "Who dares to cross unbidden into
the land of the Lady?"
"Finally," murmured Aragorn under his breath, eliciting
a shushing sound from Legolas. They set the injured hobbits beside each
other on a log; the other walkers stood behind the man and elf. Stepping
forward, Aragorn bowed slightly as he introduced himself. "I am
Aragorn, son of Arathorn. My friends and I have journeyed from Rivendell
to seek aid from the Lady of Lórien."
"We have heard rumours of your coming through Elrond,
and the Lady welcomes you," said the tallest of the three. "We
are the Guardians of Lothlórien. I am Haldir; these are my brothers,
Rúmil and Orophin." He gestured towards the two figures
beside him, and the fellowship gazed at them in wonder. Like three silver
birch trees they stood, their porcelain skin framed by long golden locks.
The shimmering iridescence of their garments mirrored the shadows cast
by the moonlight in the trees. Though accustomed to the elves of Rivendell,
the travellers found themselves strangely awed by the terrible beauty
of the brothers.
Haldir scanned the party even as their eyes took him in.
"Elrond spoke of a fellowship of nine. Where are your other companions?"
"One of our party, Gandalf the Grey, was lost to the
Balrog in Moria," Aragorn replied.
"That is a sore loss to all of us," Haldir said
bitterly. "Gandalf has long been a friend of the elves."
"Our ninth companion, a son of Gondor, was captured
by the Orcs – alive, I believe – and I must go back for
him," Aragorn continued.
Haldir shook his head slowly. "The Orcs do not take
prisoners, I fear. Even if he was alive for a short while, the foul
beasts have surely killed him by now. And it is far better that they
do so," the elf added, a faint shudder passing through his broad
shoulders.
Legolas glanced at Aragorn and saw the despair deepen in
his eyes. Speaking rapidly in Silvan elvish, which he knew the ranger
did not understand, he addressed the guardians.
"I am Legolas Prince of Mirkwood."
"We have heard of you, kinsman," Haldir acknowledged.
"You are correct – the chance that our friend
is still alive is very slim. We fled Moria two days ago. We travelled
as quickly as we could, but as you can see, two of our companions were
injured. I fear that nothing we can do will help him now."
Legolas took a deep breath before he continued, "Nonetheless,
Aragorn is heavy-hearted at the loss of his two friends. The possibility
that he might save one of them is driving him to desperation. I fear
that he will act rashly by returning to Moria alone."
"The rashness of men is not the concern of Lórien,"
Rúmil said haughtily.
"Nor should it be," Legolas conceded. "However,
the events that bring this man here concern all of Middle-earth. I hesitate
to speak of our quest, as that is for the ears of the Lady alone, but
I will say that Aragorn is the greatest hope that we have against the
growing darkness in the east."
"What would you have us do, Legolas?" Orophin asked.
"Do you want legions of elves to storm Moria looking for your friend's
dead body?"
Legolas smiled disarmingly. "Yes, actually, that would
be quite helpful."
Orophin and Rúmil snorted in disgust, but Haldir regarded
Legolas with a bemused expression.
"You are very bold, cousin of Mirkwood," Haldir
said, "and this man's devotion is admirable. These are qualities
that we need in our friends in these troubled times. Aragorn son of
Arathorn has the favour of the Lady Galadriel. In her mirror she has
foreseen great things for him, and would want us to lend what assistance
we can. That will not be legions of elves, but perhaps there is something
we can offer. Let me consult with my brothers."
Legolas returned to his friends as the three elves conferred.
"Are you going to save Faramir?" Pippin asked weakly.
"Yes, Pippin, we are, one way or another," Aragorn
answered, rubbing the hobbit's brown curls. "What of the elves,
Legolas? I must start back soon."
"There may be hope, Aragorn, we must wait and see."
He looked over to where the elves were having what passed, for elves,
as a contentious discussion. Rúmil and Orophin seemed to be protesting,
but Haldir was answering each of their objections in a smooth and commanding
tone. Their silvery voices sounded like rushing water to the travellers,
and they were soothed by the sound.
Finally the elves finished and rejoined the others. Addressing
them in the Common Language, Haldir said, "Legolas has told me
of your plight. It is extraordinary for Lórien to become embroiled
in the affairs of the world, especially those that primarily concern
men. However, these are extraordinary times. I have been moved by your
fidelity towards your kinsman, Aragorn, and offer the aid of myself
and my brother Rúmil. We will accompany you back to Moria and
help you find your friend. Orophin has consented to take the rest of
your party to the Lady, save the dwarf. Only I can vouch for his passage
through Lórien."
"I must go with Aragorn!" Legolas protested.
"No, kinsman," Haldir said. "It is your duty
to explain your quest to the Lady. As you say, it is for her ears alone,
and it will be better if she hears you tell it."
Legolas started to object, but was stopped by Aragorn's hand
on his shoulder. "He is right," the man said. "You are
in charge of the fellowship until I return. Look after our friends well."
"As you wish," Legolas bowed his head.
"I want to set out immediately," Aragorn said to
Haldir.
"As you wish," said Haldir, only half-mocking the
other elf.
"And dwarves can travel day and night without fatigue,"
Gimli added, his annoyance at not being allowed to enter Lothlórien
assuaged by the fact that he would accompany Aragorn.
After bidding their friends a brief farewell, the four travellers
started back in the direction from whence they had come, Aragorn pushing
them ever faster. Only his frenzied pace could keep his mind off what
they might find when they arrived.
"Well, what have we here?" The human voice should
have been a relief after the harsh grunts of the Uruk-hai, but instead
it made Faramir's blood run cold.
"He's mine," Lurtz growled.
"Oh, I was not aware the Uruk-hai had such a soft spot
for men," the voice purred. "Saruman will not be pleased by
your little … distraction."
"He will never know; this man won't live to tell. Mind
your own business, Gríma Wormtongue."
"You fool, do you know who this is?" the velvety
voice hissed. "The son of the steward of Gondor is a valuable prize,
not a plaything for a hell-beast like you."
Faramir's battered eyes opened just enough to see the man
standing above him. His waxen flesh was inhumanly pale. Heavy lids covered
misty eyes that greedily darted over Faramir's face, drinking in the
sight of the man lying naked before him, shivering and streaked with
sweat and blood. Gríma licked the bottom of his curled lip, the
suggestive gesture making Faramir feel sick. His head rolled back and
a faint groan escaped his chafed lips.
"You poor creature," the man said silkily, brushing
his long fingers through Faramir's matted hair. "I would never
envy anyone unfortunate enough to win Lurtz' heart." The Uruk-hai
moved toward him in rage, but Gríma stopped him with a wave of
his hand. "You have done quite enough, Lurtz. Do not force me to
tell Saruman of this latest indulgence; it will go ill for you."
The Uruk-hai grunted derisively, but then turned and stormed
out of the room, followed by the others.
"There, my young lord, you are safe now," Gríma
whispered as he ran his fingers along the length of Faramir's chest.
"My, but you are a pretty one. I see why Lurtz was tempted."
Gríma took a wet cloth and began cleaning his injuries.
His touch lingered long on each of the wounds, searing the pain deeper
into Faramir's broken body, and the young man fought not to cry out.
He tried to think of something else – anything else – but
found nothing to grasp beyond the blackness of the last few hours. Gríma's
hands wandered further down now, to the cuts on his stomach, then lower,
to stroke the bloody gash on the inside of his thigh. Faramir groaned
when the cloth finally delved between his legs to wipe off the oozing
cum. He opened his eyes just enough to see Gríma's erection.
No! he screamed inside, but outwardly only released a faint
moan.
The sound was enough to startle Gríma, and he quickly
withdrew his hand.
"But first things first. I will take you to Master,
but you are too weak to travel now." He rummaged through a tattered
bag on the floor and returned with a small bottle. "This will make
you stronger, my precious, and ready for me," he cooed, lifting
Faramir's head and forcing him to drink.
Faramir choked as the burning liquid coursed down his throat.
Before the foul taste even dissipated, a blinding pain hit him between
the eyes. Faramir arched his body in pain as blackness took him.
"There you are. I searched everywhere for you."
"Boromir?" Faramir struggled to open his eyes,
but he was still blinded with pain.
"Of course, who else must always save you?"
"Boromir, how did you find me?" Faramir could just
make out a figure in the shadows, but the features were unclear. The
voice was clearly his brother's, though.
"It is not as if I had nothing better to do," Boromir
continued, with a hardness that Faramir had never heard before. "Yet
once again, I must drop everything to pull my little brother out of
trouble. Why is that, Faramir?"
Faramir could only whimper as he reached towards the voice,
grasping nothing but air. Still his brother continued, "Because
even your friends abandoned you – you should have known that they
couldn't be trusted."
"But they got away –" Faramir started.
"What a foolish thought, my brother. Even betraying
you could not save them. They are all dead now, no thanks to you. Father
is right, you know. You are quite useless. Even this simple journey
was beyond your ability."
"No, Boromir –" Faramir pleaded, fighting
the grievous thoughts he had long held back. He well knew his worth
to his father, and had thought to earn his respect with this journey.
Now he knew Denethor was right. When he was put to the test, he was
found lacking. And his friends had died because of it. Now he deserved
to die as they had....
Icy hands groping his shredded back snapped him back from
these dark thoughts. He felt one hand caressing him while the other
held him firmly in place. Greedy exploring fingers dipped into the crack
between his legs, and he instinctively clenched his muscles to prevent
further entry. His efforts were futile – the fingers probed inside
him, followed by a thicker thumb. Faramir cried out as the wounds left
by the Uruk-hai were reopened.
His brother spoke more gently now. "You are fortunate
that Gríma found you, little brother. He is our friend, and your
only hope. Do whatever he says – I leave you in his hands."
"No, do not leave me – please –" Faramir
pleaded, but the voice spoke no more.
He fought to open his eyes, desperately needing to see Boromir.
Instead he saw the cave's stone floor and felt a heavy weight across
his back. It took him a moment to realize it was the weight of another's
body. Then he felt a shuddering pain as his protesting flesh was impaled.
Faramir tried to pull away, but rough hands secured his hips and drew
him back, piercing him even deeper. He wanted to scream, but could only
grunt helplessly, in time with his attacker's ruthless grinding.
Gríma's face contorted grotesquely in concentration.
It had been long since he had enjoyed this kind of sport. The terror
in the other man's rigid body excited him even more, infusing him with
an intoxicating power. With ever-increasing speed he pounded Faramir
mercilessly into the hard table. He knew the drugs were taking effect
when he felt the body behind him straining back towards him.
Faramir clenched his eyes tightly as he fought against the
quickening of his own erection. His own body was betraying him, reflexively
pushing back against Gríma's relentless attacks. The friction
was too powerful, and though he hated himself for it, Faramir felt himself
building towards climax. Even as Gríma gasped and collapsed onto
him, Faramir felt his own release. There was no pleasure in it, just
the aching of the other man still between his legs and a growing wave
of nausea.
Gríma leaned over Faramir's back, beads of sweat dripping
from his pale face. Yes, this man is quite a prize, he thought
to himself. It will not be easy handing him over to Master.
As he reached out to stroke Faramir's face, the man quivered beneath
him and retched onto the floor. Gríma sighed, and pulled himself
out from between his legs.
"Yes, sadly that is one of the side effects of the draught,"
he said, turning Faramir over and drawing him into his arms. "But
you will see, you will be stronger soon, and well able to travel."
He brushed Faramir's locks from his face. "I dare say you are stronger
already, for I felt your own pleasure then as well as mine. Another
side effect, but it is better for you this way, is it not?"
Faramir's head lolled to the side as the room spun around
him. He could hear someone speaking, but the words made no sense. He
remembered his brother had been there ... and before that some smaller
creatures, and an elf. Where did they all go? he thought, trying
to focus his clouded mind.
Through the dim he heard Aragorn's voice. "The fellowship
is lost, Faramir. We were so close to the door. If you had held out
a just a few minutes more we could have made it."
"I did what I could, Aragorn, I tried to hold them back."
"Because of your incompetence the quest is lost. The
hobbits are all dead. Legolas is dead. Gimli is dead. As am I. You are
the only one still alive, Faramir. Why do you think that is?"
"It's not my fault –"
"Excuses, just as I would expect from the steward's
second son. Why could he not send his best man? Your brother would not
have given up so easily."
"But I did not give up – I fought as long as I
could –" Faramir stammered.
"Perhaps you did, and perhaps you did not. All I know
is that you are still alive while those you called your friends were
killed. Somehow that reeks of a treachery that I did not expect from
a son of Gondor."
Faramir protested weakly, "No, it's not true."
"But perhaps it is in keeping with your devious plan.
If the last of Isildur's heirs is killed, then the crown would be in
the hands of the stewards forever. I should never have trusted you."
"No!" Faramir cried, "I would never do that!
The crown is yours, Aragorn. The stewards have always kept it safe for
your return."
"Yes, it was safe as long as the king was missing. Once
I reappeared, you had to scheme to get rid of me. I see it all now.
Oh, why did I ever trust you, Faramir?"
Faramir tried to protest again, but it was no use; the blackness
was taking him again, and he was too weak to resist.
CHAPTER THREE
Dawn was just breaking and already the travellers had entered
the mountains. Their night passage had been swift through the valley,
the fleet feet of the elves matched by the determined pace of the man
and dwarf. Only as they approached Silverlode, at the mouth of the Great
River, would Aragorn consent to a brief rest.
Gimli and Rúmil immediately sat down to eat, leading
to a spirited debate about the merits of lembas bread. Their argument
assaulted Aragorn's ears, and he wandered alone to the riverbank and
gazed towards the Misty Mountains.
"Oh, Faramir, please be safe," Aragorn whispered
quietly.
"There is a strong connection between you and this man,
is there not?" Haldir said, startling Aragorn, who had not heard
his silent footsteps.
"Yes, there is," Aragorn admitted, "and I
confess that I wish there was even more." He turned and looked
at Haldir, tears glistening in his eyes. "That is why I cannot
believe he is dead."
The man would be better off dead than alive and at the
mercy of the Orcs, Haldir thought to himself. He remembered the
days of Celebrimbor, long past now, when Moria had been a friendly place
to the elves. Since the dwarves awakened evil in the mountains it had
been avoided, but Haldir still pitied Balin and his kinsmen. The tale
of their cruel fate had crossed the borders of Lórien, leaving
no doubt about the brutality of Orcs towards their prey.
Haldir knew that these thoughts would not comfort the man
beside him, so he searched for another topic. "How was your friend
captured?" he finally asked. The elf did not really care about
the details of the skirmish; he just wanted to distract Aragorn in the
telling of it.
"We were overwhelmed by Uruk-hai as we fled from the
bridge of Khazad-Dû m. Gandalf was already lost – he held
a Balrog at bay, allowing us to escape, but then he fell –"
Aragorn shuddered violently at the thought before continuing his story.
"We knew we were close to the entrance. There was light there,
real light that gave us hope that we might escape that accursed place.
But the Uruk-hai were unstoppable. We fought them, even the hobbits
that you met. They are small, and not given to battle, but they are
fierce combatants when pressed."
Aragorn smiled sadly. "Legolas and Gimli were our advance
guard, Faramir and I held up the rear. We finally made it to the last
hall. We could even see the door at the other end. Faramir yelled for
me to go ahead. Oh, I should not have listened, but I did." Tears
spilled onto Aragorn's face now, glistening in the morning sun. "I
didn't even see what happened. One minute he was there, the next I only
heard his scream, and horrible sounds –" Aragorn squeezed
his eyes shut and wept quietly.
Haldir wondered at his wisdom in bringing up this subject.
He was about to say something else when Aragorn continued in a quiet
voice. "The thing is, when I first met Faramir, I did not esteem
him as he deserved. I saw him only as the second son of the steward,
only a representative of Gondor – even as a liability for our
quest." Aragorn sighed heavily. "As we travelled I learned
there was so much more to the man. He is wise, and compassionate, and
so brave. I never realized how brave he was. It was only in Moria, as
we were fighting side by side, that I saw him for who he is. Oh valiant
heart!" Aragorn cried out, "I've failed you!"
Haldir, Guardian of Lórien, had never given much thought
to the relationships between men. The few men he had met in the past
seemed uncultured and bellicose, their lives too brief to encompass
the deep feelings and understanding that elves took for love. But hearing
these words, he found himself strangely moved. He wrapped his arms around
the man, holding him tightly as Aragorn wept for his friend.
"Faramir, awake!"
The voice, one he had not heard for thirty years, startled
him from sleep. "Mother?"
"Yes, my son, I am here for you." Faramir felt
a comforting hand smooth his tangled hair.
Faramir scrambled to sit up, but his eyes could see nothing
but dark shadows. "Mother, where are you? I need you," he
pleaded, his voice cracking like a child's.
"My poor little boy. I did hate to leave you those many
years ago," Finduilas said soothingly. Faramir sighed as arms encircled
him, and he relaxed into his mother's warm embrace. He felt safe for
the first time in ages. Her voice held the promise of peace and comfort.
"Long was my struggle to stay with my sons. But I have
ever watched over you and your brother. He has become quite the warrior."
There was a pause, then his mother's voice said, "But
I have not been happy with what I have seen of you. You are weak, Faramir.
You shame the entire realm of Gondor."
"It isn't true," Faramir whispered.
He tried to pull away from the embrace, but arms held him
fast as Finduilas continued. "Nay, I speak justly. I had hoped
for much more from you. Instead you let your companions down. They are
lost because of your weakness."
"I tried to save them –"
"Yet even your best efforts failed. What could you have
done? What could you ever do? You could not even save yourself. It was
lore and dreams that you always sought, when you should have been studying
swordplay like your brother. Your books did you no good in the end,
did they, my son?"
The hatred dripping from these last two words was horrifying.
"Mother, why are you saying this?" he whimpered softly.
"I say it for your own good," the voice replied
haughtily. "You are no son of mine. You are a prisoner, the whore
of beasts like Lurtz. My death was a blessing, for I could not live
with this shame."
"No! It's not real! You're not real!" Faramir protested,
struggling to wake up.
"Only Gríma Wormtongue cares for you now, Faramir.
You have no one else."
Faramir awoke sobbing in the very real arms of Gríma.
Feelings of revulsion battled with his desolation. Despising himself,
he surrendered to his need for solace as Gríma's pale, thin lips
covered his own.
Faramir shivered. The stone floor was very cold on his naked
skin – and very real. At least this is not another nightmare,
he thought, reaching out towards a dirty blanket lying on the ground.
As he moved, a blinding pain shot through his lower back and he groaned
sharply.
"Ah, you are awake, my precious," Wormtongue purred.
He knelt beside Faramir, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders.
"I fear I have no travelling clothes for you. Those filthy beasts
tore yours to shreds, and mine will not fit you." He appraised
Faramir's body with hungry eyes, and a pointed tongue darted over his
upper lip.
Then he abruptly stood up. "Nonetheless, Master will
not abide any further delays. Lurtz has already poisoned his ears, no
doubt, and your health can only be blamed for so long. We must ride
tonight."
"How long have I been here?" Faramir rasped.
"Your third day as Master's guest is drawing to a close.
You will meet him soon – he will be well pleased with this gift,"
Gríma added almost to himself.
As Gríma roughly pulled him to his feet, agonizing
pain shot through Faramir's back. He tried to slide to the ground, but
Wormtongue held him fast in his grip. By the time a riding cloak was
fastened around his neck, the pain had subsided and he took the blanket
that Gríma handed him to wrap around his waist. Then the shackles
were refastened on his bruised wrists and ankles. "Just a precaution,
my dear. If you tried to escape Lurtz would only find you again, and
I doubt he would be as gentle this time."
He turned then, pulling his prisoner by the chains. Faramir
groaned as they moved, his body aching with every step.
"We have only a short distance to go," Wormtongue
purred, pulling the chains harder now. "My horse is hidden outside
the Gates. Then we ride to Isengard."
Even this short distance was excruciating to Faramir. As
they entered the hall where he had been captured, his mind reeled and
he collapsed to the ground. Gríma tried in vain to lift him,
but the young man was beyond his reach. Looking around, Wormtongue spotted
a small, dark recess that might have once been used for storage. He
dragged him into it, pressing his lanky frame into the tiny space as
Faramir moaned in pain. Gríma cast a furtive look around the
hall before withdrawing another vial from his bag.
Faramir could only moan as his throat was burned with Wormtongue's
draught. The last thing he saw before the blackness overtook him was
a fair-haired maiden, clothed all in white, save a golden braided rope
around her waist. Her voice was soothing, entreating him to trust Gríma,
his only saviour.
CHAPTER FOUR
The sun was still bright when the travellers neared the road
to the Gates. The closer they came, the more intense was the cold fear
in Aragorn's heart. He dreaded to think what they might find. He would
not even consider the possibility that they might not find Faramir at
all. They had to find him. There was so much Aragorn needed to tell
him, so much that he only now realised.
They walked cautiously, aware that the Orcs and other foul
creatures would be on the alert for intruders. As they made their way
through a clump of fir trees, Rúmil halted suddenly.
"What is it?" Gimli asked.
"There is someone leaving the Gates. Is that your companion,
Aragorn? He seems to be searching for someone!"
Aragorn pushed through the rough branches eagerly, and then
stopped.
"No," he said slowly, as he watched the cloakless
stranger wander down the mountain.
"But who can he be?" Gimli wondered aloud, "In
Moria, where all fear to go but for the Enemy's minions?"
"The Enemy has many servants," Haldir reminded
him. "Come, let us search for your friend and leave this place.
I do not wish to encounter more of our foes!"
They moved quickly once they reached the road. Up ancient
stone steps they climbed, through the Great Gates and into the large
hall where the fellowship had last encountered the Orc guards. Aragorn
shook his head, hearing Faramir's last cries, but now only their footsteps
echoed in the empty chamber.
"Let us search this way," Aragorn said, trying
to keep his voice steady as he entered the passage leading from the
hall into the mines. A few shafts of light lit the way.
"How will we know where to look for him?" Rúmil
murmured, staring down the passage.
A small recess stood just at the other end of the hall, and
it occurred to Haldir that there could easily be an Orc or two hidden
there, ready to spring on them unawares. Silencing the others with a
wave, the elf moved forward silently. Clutching his knife in one hand,
he cautiously peered into the little alcove. He saw a bundle of cloth
stashed inside. Cloth or a clever Uruk? he wondered, taking
a step closer.
The others joined him curiously, wondering what was taking
him so long.
Haldir reached for the strange shape, with Rúmil at
his side ready to defend his brother. Nothing happened. His hand landed
on the bundle and he realised that it indeed covered a live creature,
albeit not an Orc, and certainly not one who could move, much less attack
them. He gently tugged the still form out from the cramped space and,
with Rúmil's help, laid him on the floor of the hall.
"Faramir!" Aragorn exclaimed as the cloak fell
away, revealing dark hair and a pale, bruised face. He rushed forward
and knelt by the prone figure, reaching out to touch him so he could
convince himself it was no illusion.
"He's alive," Aragorn said, breathing rapidly as
relief flooded through him, and made to gather him in his arms.
"Careful," Haldir advised. "He is badly injured."
He looked curiously at the bundle that was the young man
they had returned for. All he could see was matted black hair and handsome
features, albeit marred by marks.
Aragorn carefully raised Faramir's limp body into his arms.
A clunking sound rang out as the feet were dragged ahead.
"He's shackled," Rúmil gasped.
"Is he all right?" Gimli asked worriedly.
The cloak fell open, revealing the half-naked body underneath,
the chains on his wrists and ankles. There was a collective gasp as
the half-healed wounds on his torso were revealed. With deliberately
calm movements, Aragorn lifted the cloak to examine Faramir's abused
back. He shut his eyes and swallowed hard at what he saw. Whip marks
ran crisscross from his shoulder to hips. Some of the welts were still
streaked with blood. There were clear signs of claw marks all over his
body, and in a few places, even bites. The filthy blanket still covered
Faramir's lower body, a strangely incongruous sight. An uneasy silence
fell over the group.
Shifting Faramir so as to not hurt him further, Aragorn slowly
unwound the blanket and let out a strangled sound. The man's waist,
hips, and buttocks were covered in scratches and finger-shaped bruises,
a mix of black, blue and purple. An ugly gash ran down his inner thigh.
It was healing but obviously painful.
But what induced Aragorn's cry were the flecks of blood standing
out against the paleness of the young man's legs. There was no doubt
in the minds of the horrified rescuers as to what the young man had
been subjected to. Tears glistened in Aragorn's eyes as he cradled the
naked form, battered and broken, the shackles around his wrists and
ankles making him seem all the more pathetic.
Haldir stared unmoving for a few seconds. He felt extremely
angry. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to hunt down the
creatures that had used this man so foully. How Faramir had survived
after three days in the clutches of Sauron's servants he could not imagine.
He must have known the risks if he had voluntarily stayed at the rear,
and yet he had done so for the sake of his companions. What little Haldir
knew of men had always shown them to be weak and selfish creatures.
Faramir, he could see, was the exception.
He gripped his bow tight and rose. Rúmil and Gimli
stared up at him. The dwarf's face expressed sorrow and anger, and he
wasn't surprised to see that even his brother was moved by Faramir's
plight.
"We must leave," Haldir said. "It shall be
dark soon, and we must be as far from the mines as we can before that.
Faramir needs tending to. I think we will have to rest for a while tonight.
He may not be able to withstand travelling for long periods."
He looked towards Aragorn as he concluded. Aragorn nodded
dully, and slowly made to rise, still holding Faramir. Haldir stepped
forward to help.
"The shackles," Gimli began, gripping the handle
of his axe.
"When we halt for the night," Haldir suggested,
as he took Faramir from Aragorn's arms.
Rúmil picked up the riding cloak but discarded the
filthy blanket.
"It is not his cloak," Aragorn said firmly. He
started to unclasp his own mantle, but Haldir stopped him.
"I have a spare cloak in my pack," he suggested,
"It will be softer."
Once they had wrapped the unconscious man in the soft elven
mantle, Aragorn once again took him in his arms. Haldir thought of protesting
– Aragorn was obviously tired – but he didn't. Seeing the
look of determination, coupled with the fierce love in the grey eyes,
he resolved to take over only at Aragorn's request.
The rescue party did not stop until they were some distance
from Moria. Already the sun dipped low, for their progress had been
slow. Aragorn and Gimli were both tired. The man had stubbornly carried
Faramir almost all the way, only relinquishing him to Haldir for the
last half-mile or so.
It was obvious they could not carry on further, as tired
as they all were, and Faramir's injuries desperately needed to be tended,
so they stopped at a small dell that the seven companions had used three
days earlier.
They laid Faramir facedown on a cloak. He had still not woken
up, and that in itself was beginning to worry them. Gimli and Haldir
set to work removing the shackles.
Rúmil gathered wood for a small fire while Aragorn
rummaged through his pack for his healing herbs. Most of his athelas
had been used up treating the others, but he had some other herbs that
would provide a little relief – very little though, he feared,
for Faramir's injuries were extensive.
He picked up the herbs and knelt by Faramir, taking in the
exposed wrists and ankles, reddened and scraped. Using a wet cloth,
Haldir and he began cleaning Faramir's injuries. Then Aragorn made a
paste from the herbs and they spread them over the worst of the wounds,
while Rúmil and Gimli scrounged up some food from their packs.
"You were right," Haldir said suddenly breaking
the silence they worked in.
Aragorn looked up puzzled as he spread the last of the paste
on the jagged gash on Faramir's thigh.
"He is indeed very valiant. He obviously fought hard
to stay alive."
Aragorn was about to respond, when a soft sound turned their
attention towards their patient.
"He's waking!" Aragorn said in relief.
Faramir came awake, feeling cold and aching all over. He
heard voices above him, one of which sounded very familiar. He realised
he was lying naked on his stomach, with his legs splayed apart, and
a hand resting on the tender wound in his inside thigh.
No! he screamed in his mind, and tried to struggle.
Pain shot through his body as he moved, and he moaned loudly.
"Faramir!"
Hands came to rest on his hands and legs and he panicked.
Ignoring the intense pain running up his lower back, he scrambled onto
his knees, pushing away the restraining hands. There was something soft
under him, he realised belatedly, as he edged away, pulling his knees
to his chest.
Cool air hit his face. Cool, fresh air. He was outside! Surely,
this was another vision! He moaned again. He could not endure more of
this. He did not want to be told yet again to trust Gríma. The
man always hurt him. He was dangerous, Faramir knew, and he wanted to
take him to Saruman. A shadow fell over him and he raised his head to
see someone in front of him.
"No!" he sobbed hoarsely, "I won't trust him.
He'll hurt me! Leave me. Go away."
"Faramir!" the voice broke through his scattered
thoughts, and he realised with a gasp who it was leaning over him.
"Aragorn!" he gasped, "No, not again! Please!"
He edged further away, the pain of his movements turning his words into
a squeal.
"Faramir, it is all right," Aragorn spoke as calmly
as he could manage. "I am here now. You are safe."
"No, you lie! You're dead. Go away! Leave me be."
In his pain-riddled state Faramir could hear none of the
concern and fear in Aragorn's voice. All he heard was the earlier denouncement
of his weakness and failure. He had been responsible for Aragorn's death.
He had let down Gondor by not saving its King. He sobbed louder –
harsh, rasping sounds. This could not be Aragorn, and even if it was,
Aragorn hated him. He was inept and unworthy and a coward.
Haldir had been overjoyed when he, like Aragorn, realised
Faramir was awakening. Calling out to Rúmil to bring some water,
he had helped Aragorn hold the young man down to prevent him from hurting
himself. He was surprised to see Faramir react by struggling out of
their grasp.
Aragorn reached for the young man, but Faramir slid away
from him, shouting and sobbing all the while.
"No, Aragorn, you're scaring him," Haldir said
urgently, as Aragorn tried to coax Faramir back.
The elf gracefully moved forward, and kneeling by the frantic
figure, wrapped his long arms around him, pulling him close.
Faramir felt something soft wrapped around him. He raised
his frightened eyes and took in the sight of a beautiful, fair face,
pure and noble in mien.
"Hush, child, it is all right. You are well," a
tender voice said in his ear. The very sound of that voice calmed him,
its gentle tones soothing his frayed nerves.
"Help me, please!" he begged tearfully, collapsing
against Haldir's chest from pain and exhaustion.
Haldir looked up to see the others standing around him. Gimli
and Rúmil sported worried expressions, but Aragorn looked positively
distraught.
"He was barely awake," he said soothingly. "He
did not know you."
Aragorn stared at Faramir, unhappily swallowing the pain
of rejection as Haldir gently wrapped the elven cloak around the Gondorian's
shoulders and dropped a kiss on the dark head.
Gríma stalked back into the hall. "Damn horse,"
he muttered to himself. The foul smells of the Orcs had spooked it,
and it would not come anywhere near the Gates. Hopefully the man could
walk now, else he would have to be dragged some ways down the mountain.
He suddenly stopped when he saw the blanket and his cloak
lying discarded on the ground. The man was not in sight.
"Damn Uruk-hai!" Gríma cursed aloud, the
words echoing in the empty chamber as he sank to the floor. Now he must
return to Isengard empty-handed. Lurtz had probably already sent news
there, and Master would not be pleased that he had lost the prize.
CHAPTER FIVE
Faramir slept the rest of the way back, Haldir and Aragorn
taking turns carrying him. Lost in his own thoughts, Aragorn remembered
little of the journey. His relief at finding Faramir alive surprised
even him. Deep in his heart, he had despaired of ever seeing the young
captain again, although he would have never let that thought surface.
As the man slept in his arms he held him close, listening to each breath,
feeling each heartbeat through the soft elven cloak.
At the same time, Faramir's reaction to him was troubling.
True, they had started their quest wary of each other, but before Moria
they had begun to be friends. Aragorn had even hoped that that friendship
would grow into something much more. The ranger found himself strongly
attracted to the young man, and had begun to think that his feelings
might be returned. Now Faramir was literally fleeing from his touch.
A part of him felt very hurt, but another part noticed how frightened
and fragile Faramir had seemed. Perhaps Haldir was right. Faramir might
not have realised that he was among friends. Who knew what those terrible
creatures had done to him?
The sun was setting as finally the rescue party reached Caras
Galadhon, and Aragorn was invited to take counsel with the Lady. Reluctantly
leaving Faramir in Haldir's hands, he and Gimli joined their other companions
who had gathered around the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. It took
him some while to tell them all that had occurred, and then longer to
assure the others that Faramir was indeed alive, although injured, and
that they could see him when he awoke.
It was several hours before Aragorn was able to search for
Haldir. He found the elf in front of a small pavilion not unlike the
larger one that he and the other companions had been given to share.
Aragorn moved the curtain aside to see Faramir sleeping on his stomach
upon the bed, a soft blanket pulled up to his neck. Aragorn could tell
that the young man had been cleaned thoroughly; the ugly marks were
now more visible in contrast with his pale skin. Aragorn sat down by
his side and gently stroked the ashen cheek.
"He sleeps peacefully. The healers have left a draught
for the pain," Haldir whispered, indicating a bowl nearby. "If
you will stay with him a while, I shall go and find some clothes that
may fit him."
Aragorn nodded, grateful for the opportunity to be alone
with Faramir.
Haldir paused before he left. Then he turned back, his green
eyes hard as steel. "The healers know something of the extent of
his suffering." Very quietly, Haldir explained what they had discovered.
It was as horrifying as Aragorn had dreaded and tears stung his eyes
as his worst suspicions were confirmed. He felt sick to think that those
foul creatures had toyed so with someone he loved, and abused him in
such a terrible fashion.
"Oh, dear Faramir!" he cried out softly, when Haldir
had gone, "I should never have left you!"
Taking Faramir's limp hand in his calloused one, he bent
down and placed a soft kiss on his temple. He was pleasantly surprised
to feel Faramir stirring under him.
Faramir awoke slowly, opening his eyes to the sight of Aragorn's
face hovering over him. He blinked a few times, feeling somewhat disoriented.
The pain had returned with awareness so he made no effort to move immediately.
I was in Moria, he remembered, with that awful man. But
this place looks different, and surely, this is Aragorn. But why
was Aragorn holding his hand. And if this really was Aragorn, he couldn't
be dead.
And then he remembered waking up outside. Aragorn had been
there, along with someone else who had held him and comforted him. He
stared at Aragorn quietly, unsure.
"Faramir," Aragorn said.
At the sound of that voice, Faramir snatched his hand away.
It was so like the voice that he had heard denouncing him. This
is another nightmare, he thought desperately, sitting up suddenly.
Searing pain raced up his spine and he hissed audibly at the sensation.
The blankets fell away, and he realised he was naked underneath, his
wounds neatly bandaged. Then he looked at Aragorn again and, seeing
the hurt expression on his face, fell back into despair. He had indeed
failed, or else Aragorn would not look so.
Aragorn winced when Faramir pulled away from him. He could
see the man was in obvious pain and was about to reach out and soothe
him when Haldir returned to the room, holding some clothes in his hand.
"Oh, he's awake!" Haldir exclaimed, crossing to
sit on the other side of Faramir's bed.
Aragorn watched in silent agony as Faramir promptly turned
towards the elf.
"You're still here!" Faramir gasped out, his voice
soft and raspy. He moved towards Haldir, pushing away the blankets and
falling into Haldir's outstretched arms. "Wh – where am I?"
he asked timidly. "I thought I was dreaming, but if you are here
– I saw you earlier –"
"You are in Lórien, and I am Haldir, warden of
the Lady Galadriel."
"In Lórien?" Faramir said in wonder, his
voice still sounding hoarse, "B – but I was in Moria, and…"
he trembled as unbidden images of his ordeal came back to him.
"Hush, you are safe now," Haldir said soothingly
as he felt the young man tremble in his arms.
"But the others – the hobbits –" Faramir
faltered, fearing for the fate of his companions.
"They are well. See, Aragorn is right here."
Faramir turned to look at Aragorn standing stiffly beside
the bed.
"Oh! I – you're all right," he said feeling
a little stupid, for he could think of nothing to say.
"Of course he is," Haldir assured him. "All
your companions are."
"Th – they are?"
Faramir looked so doubtful at the statement that Aragorn
was moved to sit down by his side. "Yes, they are," he said
softly. "They are all here, and safe. All thanks to you."
Faramir could only stare at him in confusion. Aragorn felt
his heart constrict as he saw that the man's earlier wariness still
remained.
"They said you were lost –" he mumbled, "that
you had fallen – that I let you down."
"But you didn't –" Aragorn started.
Faramir interrupted him," H –how did I get here?"
He didn't understand. He had been inside that dark chamber with the
Uruk-hai, and he knew that had been no dream. His aching body reminded
him how real it was. And then that terrible pale man – and his
mother, and Boromir, and even Aragorn.... Faramir shook his head to
clear the confusion, remembering too late the pain that would cause.
He closed his eyes as waves of pain racked his brain.
Aragorn noticed the tormented expression and ached to relieve
his suffering. "We found you in Moria," Aragorn told him as
gently as he could, "And we got you out as soon as we could."
"You returned?" he exclaimed as he realised what
Aragorn meant. "You returned for me? To Moria?"
"I wanted to return sooner," Aragorn said, trying
to fight back his tears. "Forgive me for not returning sooner!"
If I had reached you sooner, he thought miserably,
you might not have suffered so much.
Why?" Faramir whispered in surprise.
Aragorn stared at him, the frail body sheltered in Haldir's
arms. There was genuine confusion in the grey eyes. And suddenly the
ranger did not know what to say. It seemed Faramir actually doubted
that anyone, least of all Aragorn, would have returned for him.
*Does he really mistrust me so?* he thought despairingly
as he searched in vain for an answer.
"We brought you out as soon as we found you," he
said finally, skirting the question. "I was very worried for you,
for what they might do to you –"
As his words broke off, Faramir suddenly remembered that
he was naked under the blankets. He remembered Gríma had wrapped
a cloak around him. Now there were bandages around all his wounds, and
Haldir held him extremely carefully. Aragorn knows what has been
done to me, he realised in horror. And Haldir does too, and
probably everyone else as well. All of them knew now that the Uruk-hai
and Gríma had used him as a whore, and not just once. Now they
all knew that he was weak and craven.
He withdrew from Haldir's embrace a little too swiftly, his
movement resulting in a small but heart-rending cry of pain.
"Don't move!" Haldir said worriedly, nevertheless
letting the young man slip from his embrace.
"Do you need something for the pain?" Aragorn asked,
reaching for the healers' bowl.
Faramir shook his head numbly, pulling the blankets closer
around him, wishing to cover the signs of abuse.
"Is there anything you need?" Haldir asked gently.
"I can have some food sent for you."
Faramir shook his head again, and shrank further into the
covers, "My clothes," he murmured, and then remembered how
they had been torn off his bare body before Lurtz had whipped him. He
shut his eyes to wipe out the terrifying memory, but it was in vain.
"I brought you some clothes," Haldir said, "And
a nightshirt as well. Would you like to put it on?"
Faramir nodded.
Aragorn rummaged among the clothes lying at the foot of the
bed. He was glad to see that Haldir had eschewed the heavier velvet
fabrics favoured by the Lórien elves, instead bringing a collection
of garments in soft silks. He soon found the shimmering azure nightshirt
and handed it to Faramir.
"Would you like me to help you dress?" he asked,
seeing Faramir hesitate.
"No," Faramir replied quickly. "I –
I am sorry, Aragorn, but I'm feeling a little tired."
"We will leave you to rest then," Haldir said getting
up.
Faramir nodded gratefully.
"Are you sure you do not need anything else?" Aragorn
asked once again, reluctant to leave. He wanted to stay by Faramir,
but the younger man looked as though he did not want anyone at all around
him. "I could stay if you like – should you wish to talk
or – or – perhaps, would you like to see the others? Pippin
asks about you." He knew Faramir was quite fond of Merry and Pippin,
but the young man blanched at that.
"He needs rest, Aragorn," Haldir said firmly, a
little annoyed by Aragorn's persistence. Surely, the man ought to be
able to see that. He was supposed to have been trained as a healer by
none other than Lord Elrond himself. There would be time enough for
talk and noisy hobbit folk later. "We'll leave you to sleep awhile,
child."
Aragorn stared at Haldir in annoyance and then turned back
to Faramir. The young man was looking at Haldir reverently. "I
should like that, thank you."
After he was sure they were gone, Faramir slowly pulled on
the gown and curled up under the blankets miserably. He wasn't sure
what to think. He had never expected to leave Moria alive; after Gríma
had found him, he had thought he was destined for a worse fate in Isengard.
But now he was in Lórien because Aragorn himself had brought
him back. Aragorn had saved him!
But Aragorn came back for who I was before, Faramir
reminded himself. He would never have returned if he had known the
terrible things that they did to me – the terrible things I did!
How can he even bear to look at me now?
Hugging the blankets tight against his broken body, Faramir
slipped into an uneasy sleep.
Aragorn felt very irritated as he left the pavilion. He had
sincerely wanted to care for Faramir, had in fact hoped that he could
sit by his bedside through the night, but he could not bear to see the
young man shy away from him. Not that he blamed him – he knew
he might act like that until he had dealt with all that had happened
to him – but he still hated to leave him alone. In a daze he returned
to the pavilion he shared with the others. After washing up, Legolas
persuaded him to indulge in a short rest.
Tired out by the multiple journeys he had made, Aragorn slept
longer than he intended and the crescent moon was high in the sky when
he awoke. When he returned hastily to Faramir's bedside, he found Haldir
there already, a plate of uneaten food lying beside him. The elf was
holding Faramir carefully in his arms, stroking his hair while singing
softly to him. Faramir was mumbling something incoherently.
"He had a nightmare," Haldir said by way of explanation.
Aragorn sat quietly at the other side of the bed, his heart
sinking as Faramir's words filtered through to his ears.
"Please – no," the young man kept sobbing
over and over again, "It hurts -"
Aragorn's face went pale as he heard Faramir's anguished
cries. Oh, my darling, why did I not come back for you sooner?
Faramir's horrific nightmares returned nearly every time
he slept, and soon Haldir and Aragorn took turns watching over him,
sometimes holding him as he slept, but usually just sitting beside his
bed ready to comfort him when he awoke. On more than one occasion Aragorn
tried to console him, only to be pushed away with anguished cries. He
found it did no good to try to talk to Faramir when he was in this state.
His voice seemed to send Faramir spiralling into greater depths of pain,
it mattered not what he said. Instead he would murmur quietly in Elvish
to him, the soft words calming Faramir's troubled mind.
The man's recovery was slow. He was unable to walk much without
help and spent most of his time in his room, sleeping or simply lost
in morose thought. Some days he allowed Aragorn to draw the curtains
back to allow sunlight to stream in, but bright light seemed to bring
his injuries into even starker relief and most of the time he preferred
the shadowy glow of candlesticks, as though by hiding the marks he could
for a brief while forget what he had been through. He remained withdrawn
and quiet.
Haldir and Aragorn devoted themselves to tending his injuries,
changing bandages and applying pastes daily, a painful ordeal that he
bore stoically, but sometimes when he cleaned the wound in Faramir's
inner thigh, Aragorn could see tears welling up in the younger man's
eyes. Although he wanted nothing more than to gather the young man in
his arms, kissing away his fears and anguish, he forced himself to be
as clinical as possible when treating Faramir. The elf had recommended
this approach, and considering the emotional trauma the Gondorian had
endured, Aragorn had concurred.
Aragorn found himself concurring with much of the elf's counsel
of late. The last time he had taken matters into his own hands had been
disastrous. To lighten Faramir's heavy mood, Aragorn had tried to enliven
him with a visit from the other members of the Fellowship.
Haldir, unaware of Aragorn's plans, had given him a pain
draught so Faramir was sleeping deeply when they arrived. Pippin had
rushed to his bedside to wake him up, but on seeing Faramir so ashen-faced,
looking so much smaller and thinner, almost like a stranger, he had
cried out in surprise.
Faramir nearly leapt out of bed at the sudden noise. It had
taken a long while to calm him down and Aragorn could see that he was
not only contrite about scaring Pippin but also ashamed of having cowered
away from his friends. The rest of the visit had deteriorated rapidly.
Gimli and Legolas had tried to be their usual selves, but that meant
they had argued, and this seemed to make Faramir unwell. The hobbits
were uncertain how to act, and so pretended that nothing had happened.
Their boisterous tales failed to engage Faramir; he watched them silently,
a wan expression on his face. Finally, in a halting voice, Faramir said
he was tired, and they had quickly left. Aragorn had followed the others
out, meeting the disapproving gaze of Haldir just outside the pavilion.
After they departed, Faramir fell into a fretful sleep, haunted
by dreams of Uruk-hai, and blood, and his hobbit friends lying dead
in the caverns of Moria.
CHAPTER SIX
For the past month Haldir had sat silently by Faramir's bedside
each night, watching him sleep. He knew it surprised his brothers and
fellow wardens that he spent so much time tending to Faramir. But they
understood that, after his part in the man's rescue, he intended to
complete the job he'd started. Faramir needed to heal, a slow and lengthy
process. The Lady had assured Haldir he would heal when she
had seen the young man shortly after his arrival.
The more time he spent around Faramir, the more impressed
Haldir was with his innate qualities. Having survived such a gruesome
attack by the Uruk-hai, and then suffering the pain from so many wounds
so stoically, was a huge achievement. Faramir was a fine and noble young
man, Haldir could see. The elf was also drawn to his diffidence that
seemed much more Elvish than human. There was none of the boorishness
that he associated with men. In their everyday encounters Faramir was
unfailingly polite, his voice soft and gentle. If anything, he seemed
too humble for his own good, always uncomplaining and deferential. The
very attack, Haldir knew, would have done his confidence no good.
Haldir sighed softly as he watched Faramir's face, the tired
lines somewhat softened in sleep. He should wake him and get him to
eat something, he thought, but waking him suddenly did not prove wise,
as Pippin had demonstrated. Haldir had arrived just in time to see the
uncertainty and discomfort among the group, and had later gotten all
the details of their encounter from Legolas. The days since had been
tiring ones for the Gondorian. His nightmares had returned in full force
since the walkers' visit. He woke up several times each night, crying
out for his friends or his brother and father, and then would sob disconsolately
before reverting to a fitful sleep, leaving the elf convinced that he
surely needed more care and looking after. At least the healers allowed
him to move around a little now. That had made him a little less morose.
Haldir ran a hand over the soft hair fondly, hoping that
it would help rouse Faramir slowly. He really needed to get some food
into him. He was thin and still quite pale. Haldir had seen enough of
Faramir's body over these days to discern that, although on the smaller
side, Faramir still had the look of a warrior, with the broad shoulders
of an archer. The elf was committed to ensuring Faramir would once more
look every inch the brave young warrior he once was. All it needed was
time, much care, and love, all of which he was willing to provide. And
especially, he realised with dawning clarity, love.
He had, he decided, become very fond of this brave young
man.
"Dear, brave Faramir," he said softly, still stroking
the raven hair as the man slept on.
Faramir lay still in bed. He'd been awake for a while, but
it was so nice to feel the hand on his hair and he did not want it to
stop.
He was no longer surprised to find the elf standing over
him when he first woke up, but he could not help wondering why someone
so fair as Haldir would fuss over him. Yet he found himself welcoming
his attentions more and more. There was something so calming about him,
something eternal and soothing. Others might consider him cold, or haughty,
but Faramir could never see him that way. In his eyes, he was a saviour.
He had saved him from the mines, from his nightmares. And sometimes,
when Haldir was sitting beside him, Faramir felt whole again.
Faramir cracked his eyes just enough to see Haldir's distinctive
profile. His beauty was breathtaking. His long hair shone in the morning
sun, braided and pulled back in Elven fashion. It looked as soft as
spun gold, and Faramir burned with the desire to touch it. He fought
the urge, though. He was enjoying lingering over each of his features
and wanted more time to observe the elf unawares. There was a tiny scar,
long healed, marring the otherwise perfect skin on his cheek. Faramir
wondered how he had gotten it. He studied the noble nose, his broad,
untroubled forehead, the slight points on his ears. Suddenly an unbidden
image flashed through Faramir's mind – he was kissing those ears,
licking their entire length and tickling the tips with his tongue, as
Haldir moaned ecstatically.
Faramir gasped. Haldir heard the strange sound and looked
at him quizzically. "Good morning. Are you all right?"
Faramir could only nod in reply. He knew this was not the
first time he had dreamed of kissing the elf. In dim dreams he had covered
his entire body with kisses, and been kissed in return. Yet this was
the first time that these thoughts had invaded his awake mind.
This could not be! Haldir was a march warden of Lórien,
not some barmaid that he could entertain such lustful thoughts about.
What a way to repay all of Haldir's tender care!
"Faramir, you look pale. What is it?" The elf's
voice interrupted Faramir's thoughts, dragging him back to reality.
"I am fine. Just a dream, that's all," Faramir
shrugged, grateful that he had such a convenient excuse. He looked at
the elf with open eyes now.
"Are you sure? How do you feel?"
"Very well, Haldir. Did you sleep at all, or did you
sit there watching me all night?"
"Elves need very little sleep," Haldir replied,
sidestepping the question. "Now can I get you some breakfast?"
Faramir nodded again, grateful for the time alone to collect
his thoughts. By the time Haldir returned, he had almost managed to
convince himself that what had happened was indeed a dream, not the
musings of his depraved mind.
Aragorn came by when he'd finished eating and Faramir found
himself nodding shyly at the ranger in greeting. Haldir rose a little
stiffly as the ranger entered the room, and immediately bade farewell.
Aragorn did not seem to notice his absence. "How are you today,
Faramir?" he asked gently.
"I am well," he replied, smiling a little at Aragorn's
routine question.
"I have brought you some books from Lord Celeborn's
library. I thought you might like to read awhile after you've had your
walk."
Faramir took the books gratefully and then accepted Aragorn's
arm as he very carefully helped him out of bed. The healers now allowed
him to take small walks and indulge in light activity. It was slow and
a little painful, but he endured it because it gave him something to
do. Lying in bed all day, unable to even sit up without help, every
muscle in his body protesting, had plunged him into a state of despair
in which he questioned why he had even been saved. His thoughts had
often turned to darkness – if not to what he had endured, then
to what might happen to the quest now, and what might be happening in
Minas Tirith, where his brother battled the forces of Mordor while he
lay here helplessly.
But being able to move now made him feel much better and
less depressed. He even felt lighter. He did not know whether the lightness
he felt was due to the feel of cool air on his face, or the fresh smells
of leaves and grass, or quite simply because Aragorn held his arm tightly
and guided him very gently along the tiny path. He enjoyed these little
walks greatly, but he'd have enjoyed them even more if they could have
spoken more freely. He often had to rack his brain to come up with something
to say, then Aragorn would answer. It was very unlike the spirited talks
they had enjoyed earlier, before Moria.
He had truly appreciated the fact that they had started to
become such good friends on the road from Rivendell. He'd been drawn
to the older man in a way he had rarely felt. The more they spoke, the
more they found they had in common. Both were scholars as well as warriors,
and found many subjects of mutual interest to discuss. Aragorn had travelled
through many lands, most of which Faramir had only ever heard of, and
he thirsted to learn more of them. Aragorn had seemed to enjoy their
conversations, and with the older man Faramir had discovered a degree
of understanding that made him very happy.
He had that no more. Not for the first time, he cursed the
Uruks for causing more than the physical hurt and trauma. He cursed
them for ruining the wonderful bond that had been growing between him
and Aragorn.
He despaired of ever finding that connection again. While
Aragorn was solicitous towards him, always making sure that he had eaten
enough, that he slept, even staying beside him during his worst nights,
the bond that they had shared seemed to be lost. As the weeks stretched
on, he and Aragorn were as much strangers as they had been on their
first day in Rivendell. Yet he could not blame the ranger for rending
that bond. How could someone as brave and noble as Aragorn want to even
speak with one as cowardly as he?
He had let down the fellowship. He had heard how Aragorn
had turned around without rest from the borders of Lórien itself.
It was no small distance between the gates of Moria and the Golden Wood,
yet Aragorn, and Gimli, too, had traversed that thrice in succession
all because of him. They should have been resting here in Lórien,
not running back to Moria to rescue him.
And now they were tarrying here too long, when there was
so much at stake – for them, for Gondor, for the whole of Middle-earth.
Aragorn said all of them needed rest, and the time to leave was not
far. He knew he would have to get better by then, if he were to be of
any use to the quest. But he could barely walk; much less use a weapon.
It made him worry even more about why Aragorn might expend so much effort
over him.
But even these troublesome thoughts could not keep the Gondorian
from relishing Aragorn's attentions. Even lacking the bond that they
had begun to forge, just being near him gave Faramir a deep sense of
contentment. He often found himself sneaking peeks at the ranger when
he wasn't watching. He liked to see the grave face, lost in thought,
the deep grey eyes watching some unseen point. He liked the sound of
the calm and soothing voice, his soft, gentle laugh. He quite simply
liked the idea of being near Aragorn, he decided.
In the earliest stages of his recovery, still lost in dreams
and the influence of Gríma's draught, Faramir had often shied
away from Aragorn, unwilling to accept that his presence was real. Then
he had avoided his eyes, not wanting to see in them the disgust and
contempt that he felt for himself.
But when he finally met his gaze, he saw none of that. He
had seen sadness and concern and, he thought, tenderness. As Aragorn
cared for him over the weeks, he grew to depend on the man, and to trust
him, until now he woke up each morning looking forward to his visits.
Of course, he could never let him know this, or demand more of his time
than he freely gave. Faramir had no intention of imposing on him more
than he was already doing. And it would certainly do no good for Aragorn
to learn how intensely he craved his visits. He could never admit that
they were what he lived for.
Over the past few weeks, Faramir had begun to realise the
extent of his feelings for the ranger. It scared him at first, to have
such feelings for another man. As a soldier he knew men often lay together
while out on the front. That none begrudged, for the warriors of Gondor
led harsh lives, battling many foes, and in the thick of war what little
comfort available was happily accepted. But this was not wartime, and
they were not fellow men-in-arms. And to make matters worse, his feelings
for Aragorn were something much stronger than these brief liaisons.
Surely it was not right to have such strong feelings for another man,
that too one who would be his king. This was not how the noble men of
Gondor behaved!
He did not think Aragorn would appreciate such thoughts either.
He had, very briefly, harboured a secret hope that he might share his
feelings, especially when he learned how Aragorn had raced back to rescue
him, and even later when he sat with him and looked after him. Sometimes
the ranger would look at him with such tenderness that he had really
wondered, and even dared to hope. But Aragorn never said anything. When
Faramir caught him staring at him and asked if anything were the matter,
the older man would only shake his head, smile sadly, and say it was
nothing.
He wished he could drive that sadness away, that he could
bring the smile back to Aragorn's face. Suddenly a second unbidden image
came to him. He was pushing the stray locks of hair off the ranger's
face as he kissed him lightly on his lips. When he moved to rub his
cheek against the bristly hairs of the other man's beard, Aragorn wrapped
his arms around his body and held him close. He leaned his head against
the older man's chest and listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart
while Aragorn stroked his hair and dropped light kisses on his head.
What is happening to me? Faramir thought as the
image dissipated. First Haldir, now Aragorn? Not only did he
not deserve their attentions, but now he was abusing their friendship.
Faramir chewed his lip in confusion.
Lost in his thoughts, Faramir did not notice Aragorn watching
him closely. They walked back to his room in silence, and Aragorn helped
him back to bed.
"Haldir will be here soon with your noon meal,"
Aragorn told him, as he pulled the covers up to tuck Faramir in. "Would
you like to read a book until then, or would you prefer to take a short
nap?"
"A book," Faramir said promptly, and it seemed
a ghost of a smile flickered on Aragorn's face.
"Which one would you like?" the ranger asked.
"I do not know," he confessed. "I have never
seen any of these before, and – Oh! Is this an account of the
Lay of Nimrodel?"
Aragorn smiled widely. Faramir looked so much livelier now,
so like his old self as he thumbed through the books that he had borrowed
from Celeborn.
"Yes, it is," the ranger said. "And it is
quite good. I read it during one of my earlier stays here."
"Oh!" Faramir said, and then after a pause continued,
"Would – would you like to read it with me, Aragorn? Unless
– you have some work – er – unless you would rather
rest. I will understand," he added hastily.
"I have nothing to do now, save watch the hobbits eat!"
he said cheerfully. "Why don't I read it aloud to you?"
To Faramir's surprise, the ranger nestled beside him in bed
and began reading the ancient song of hope and great beauty. Faramir
fell asleep about ten pages into the book, lulled by Aragorn's sweet
voice and the scent of the forest from his tunic.
Faramir's head slipped onto Aragorn's shoulder as he slept,
so close that the ranger could feel his breath on his neck. He quietly
closed the book, marking the page where Faramir had fallen asleep, and
placed it on the floor. Then he carefully shifted himself so that Faramir
could lean against him more comfortably. Slipping one arm around the
younger man's slender body, he very gently pulled him close, taking
care not to wake him. Faramir needed all the rest he could get. He quietly
stroked his arm in a soothing manner, and watched his face, so peaceful
in sleep.
"I am so glad we could find you," he whispered
softly. "I knew we would. Yet, I wish we had reached you sooner,
so you might have been spared this."
He closed his eyes as he remembered how Faramir had looked
when they had found him, his battered body under the blanket. He recalled
the despair he had felt in Moria, when he first saw the extent of his
bruises and gashes, and later how it had pained him to see the grimace
of agony on the unhappy face when Faramir first tried to walk. He also
thought of the Faramir he knew earlier, the smiling young man who had
countless times pleaded for tales of far-off lands. He looked so different
now, pale and gaunt. And yet, Aragorn felt no lessening of his love.
In fact, with his rapid recovery after his ordeal, he now appreciated
his courage and his fighting spirit even more.
"My dear, brave one," he whispered as he kissed
Faramir lightly on the head. "I hope you get better soon. I worry
so for you. I really need you by my side."
He really did. He loved Faramir so much! He wanted nothing
more than to hold him in his arms, to look after him and ensure that
he was never hurt again. He unconsciously tightened his hold around
Faramir, and stroked his cheek softly with the other hand. His fingers
traced their way down to his jaw and over his neck, then he stopped
himself.
How badly he wanted to touch Faramir all over, to kiss his
worries away! But he could do no such thing. Only recently had Faramir
stopped shying away from him. He still seemed wary of physical contact
and often shrank back if things became too noisy. Aragorn could not
possibly abuse that trust by forcing himself too close. And in all likelihood
he would never be able to get as close as he desired. No matter what
Aragorn felt for him, after Moria, Faramir would be looking to anyone
but men for company!
Sighing, he continued to hold Faramir close, breathing in
the scent of his soft hair, until Haldir arrived with his noon meal.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The sun was just creeping above the eastern horizon when
Aragorn awoke. He stretched his arms over his head, gazing around at
the beds that held his companions. Legolas was gone – the elf
had probably been up for hours – but the others were sleeping
peacefully. A smile flickered across his face as he enjoyed the moment
of tranquillity before forcing his mind to more serious things.
The last two weeks had passed quickly. Faramir was growing
stronger every day, and Aragorn even thought he saw signs that the young
man was starting to open up to him more. They read together every day,
and after reading the Lay of Nimrodel together it had become something
of a habit for them to crawl into bed to read. It was all very innocent,
and at the same time intoxicating. They were always clothed, separated
by bedcovers, but Aragorn thrilled at the touch of the other man's body
running the full length of his. He often fought his urge to hold him
closer, forcing himself to concentrate on his reading. Faramir often
interrupted their reading to question intriguing passages, and it was
embarrassing when he couldn't answer because his thoughts had strayed
to the heat of the young man's arm, to a wisp of his dark hair.
Still his recovery was not complete. His nightmares still
came – less frequently, to be sure, but when they did Faramir
still turned to Haldir for comfort. Strangely, as Faramir grew physically
stronger, the elf was becoming more concerned about the emotional trauma
he had suffered. He seemed to be increasingly protective too. Aragorn
recalled the cold glare he'd recently received when Haldir had interrupted
their reading. In a very disapproving tone he had been reminded that
Faramir needed his rest, and that he was only delaying his progress.
For some reason he had even felt guilty for a few moments, until these
feelings turned to anger at the elf's possessiveness.
Aragorn shook his head to clear away these jealous thoughts.
The important thing was that he be there for Faramir as much as he could.
And that meant he needed to pull himself out of bed. He dressed soundlessly
and raced up the steps towards Faramir's pavilion. Just as he'd suspected,
Haldir was already there. The man was sound asleep, the elf solemnly
gazing down at him with a gentle smile.
Standing in the open doorway, Aragorn called out softly,
"Good morning, Haldir. How is my Faramir doing today?"
The possessive question did not escape the elf's awareness,
and a shadow flickered across his emerald eyes. "Our patient
has not yet awoken. I hope that he will sleep a while longer. Shall
I call you later to see him?"
Aragorn bristled at this dismissal. Haldir seemed to be increasingly
protective of Faramir, even to the point of restricting his access to
him. Still, the elf was probably right. The young man did need to sleep,
especially peacefully like this, undisturbed by his nightmares. "Very
well, then," he replied. "I will return after breakfast."
The ranger braced his shoulders as he walked away, unwilling
to reveal any sign of his discomfort to the elf. He need not have bothered.
As soon as Aragorn turned to leave, Haldir returned to the patient's
bedside, seeing nothing but the peaceful sleeping face encircled by
soft wisps of dark hair.
Legolas had noticed Aragorn's increasing unrest, but had
been unable to find the right time to approach him. Seeing him standing
alone by the fountain, before the hobbits woke up and demanded his attention,
he decided there was no better time.
"You seem troubled of late, friend. Do you care to talk
about it?"
Aragorn sighed. "Are my feelings that obvious?"
"No, but you could never hide them from me. Nor must
you. Perhaps I can help with your burden," Legolas said gently.
"Nay, there is little you can do. It is Faramir. I fear
for his recovery."
"Faramir's body is mending quickly. Just yesterday he
walked all the way to the Celebrant and back with the hobbits. In a
few more weeks he should be fit for travel."
"He still has nightmares –"
Legolas interrupted, "And they are lessening. You know
that his mind will take longer to heal. We cannot begin to imagine the
horrors he must have faced in Moria."
"I know he needs time to recover fully. But when I am
with him, I can tell he is holding something back. I can still sense
a darkness in his heart."
"That is to be expected. Healing is not a straightforward
process. Even the elves do not fully understand its intricacies."
Aragorn snorted at that. "Haldir certainly seems to
believe he has mastered it."
Legolas regarded his friend in silence for a moment. Then
he asked, "Is Haldir the real problem here, rather than Faramir?"
"He won't even let me in to see him!" Aragorn said
angrily. "The guardian of Lórien has become the guardian
of Faramir's bedchamber, and I must supplicate myself to even catch
a glimpse of him."
"Haldir is doing what he thinks best for Faramir, you
know that."
"Yes, I do know that. And in my heart I do appreciate
it. Frankly I am surprised that he is so concerned for a mortal man,
as he seems to hold us in contempt so much of the time. But how is he
so sure that what he does is best? I am a man, and I do know something
of healing myself. That alone should give me some say in what is best
for Faramir."
Aragorn shook his head at this. "Listen to me, Legolas.
I sound like a petulant child, whining because I do not get my way.
But I cannot help myself. My heart aches to be with him. There is so
much I need to say to him, so much that I want to do for him, and yet
I am barred from his door."
"Perhaps you would have me speak with Haldir?"
Legolas proffered.
"Nay, Legolas, there is no need for that," Aragorn
said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Haldir always speaks
of patience as the key to healing. I will try to respect that for now."
At that moment Rúmil approached the fountain, bowing
as he reached the two friends. "The Lady requests your company,"
he said to Aragorn. "She has something that she wishes you to see
concerning your journey."
"I will come with you," said Legolas.
"No, that is not the Lady's wish," Rúmil
said firmly. "Her words are for the leader of the fellowship alone."
"I am sorry you cannot join me, my friend," Aragorn
said, clasping Legolas' hand in his own. "I knew the day would
come when the Lady would call me to her, and I both welcome and dread
her words. I would have you by my side, but as that is not the Lady's
wish, I would have you do something else for me."
"I will do whatever you ask me to do."
"I told Haldir I would return to watch over Faramir
after breakfast. Will you visit with him today in my stead?" A
pained expression crossed Aragorn's face as he realised that Faramir
might think he had deserted him again.
Legolas squeezed Aragorn's hand tightly. "I am happy
to do that, Aragorn. Do not worry for Faramir. I will explain what has
happened."
"Thank you," Aragorn said. He turned to Rúmil
and said, "I am ready."
Rúmil led him toward the wall of Caras Galadhon, finally
stopping at an enclosed garden where the Lady Galadriel waited. She
wore a shimmering gown of white, her golden hair resplendent as it cascaded
down onto her shoulders. Aragorn drew himself up to his full height
as he approached so he could meet her eyes.
"Hiril nín," he said, bowing his head.
The Lady bowed in return, but spoke not a word as she beckoned
to him to follow. She led him soundlessly through the garden to a staircase
that wound down into a darkened hollow. The morning sun was veiled from
this place, and the air was very still. In the shadows Aragorn could
make out a glistening silver basin sitting atop a low pedestal. With
infinite grace, the Lady filled a pitcher with water from the stream
that ran through the hollow, and then poured it into the basin. She
waited silently until the water was still.
Aragorn quivered involuntarily at the power he sensed. Noticing
his movement, the Lady held out her hand and guided him to stand beside
the basin. Her touch was cool, and her sonorous voice when she spoke
filled the hollow.
"This is the Mirror of Galadriel. It will show you what
you desire, and that which you do not. Would you look into it?"
Aragorn stepped towards the mirror but did not look down.
"There is much that I want to know, but just knowing is not enough.
Will the mirror help me change these paths?"
The Lady smiled soberly. "The mirror reveals things
that already were, or things that will be, but only you can decide what
to do with what you see. Many are content to not look upon these things,
for their thoughts are not then haunted. Others must look, hoping that
what they see will help show the paths they must take. It is a terrible
power, yes. The mirror may guide your actions, but it may bewitch you
and prevent you from doing what you must do. In this I cannot counsel
you. As the heir of Isildur, I can only offer you the choice to see
if you will."
Aragorn weighed her words, already knowing that he could
not withstand the temptation of the mirror. He took a deep breath and
lowered his eyes towards the mirror. He gasped as the dark surface suddenly
flashed, revealing a burning village, people and animals fleeing from
hordes of invaders, silently screaming through the glistening water.
Faramir was just finishing breakfast when Legolas arrived.
He greeted him with a shy smile,looking behind him for Aragorn. When
he saw that the elf was alone, a confused expression crossed his face.
Legolas took some pleasure in seeing the man obviously searching for
someone. Maybe his friend's attentions were not as unrequited as he
thought.
"Good morning, Faramir," the elf said brightly.
"How are you feeling today?"
"I am better, Legolas, thank you," Faramir said
diffidently. Although he had grown accustomed to Haldir's ministrations,
he was still not comfortable with others fussing over him.
"Aragorn is not coming today, Haldir. I will look after
Faramir so you may rest," Legolas said, the firm tone in his voice
brooking no objections.
"I will leave you then," Haldir said. "Is
there anything I can get you, Faramir?"
The young man could only shake his head. Aragorn is not
coming today. He replayed Legolas' words in his head, slowly taking
in their meaning. After a long look, Haldir bowed and left the room.
"Would you like me to open the curtains?" Legolas
said, already reaching for the heavy drapes. "It is a lovely day,
it will do you good to feel the sun on your face."
Without waiting for an answer the elf circled the room, carefully
tying back the draperies around the entire pavilion. A cool breeze swept
through the room, scattering pale golden leaves onto Faramir's bed,
but he paid them no heed. All he could think of was Aragorn, and what
he had done to give offence. *I must have said something wrong,* Faramir
thought to himself, scanning his memory for anything that might explain
the man's absence. Nothing came to mind, but Faramir knew that meant
nothing. He had never meant to offend his father either, yet somehow
he had repeatedly managed to do so.
Finally Legolas finished his meticulous work with the curtains
and settled himself in the chair beside Faramir's bed. He examined one
of the leaves lying before him.
"I always longed to look upon the mallorn-trees of Lórien,"
Legolas said wistfully. "Alas that it is winter. Would that the
quest could go quickly, and I could return to see them in the glory
of spring, when the leaves fall and the forest is carpeted in gold."
Lost it his own thoughts, Faramir did not even hear the elf.
Or it could just be that Aragorn is fed up with my weakness,
he thought miserably. He had tried to push himself harder, to walk further
each day, but he was still unable to steady a sword. And when he had
begged to hold Rúmil's bow, he had been embarrassed to find he
could not even draw back the taut bowstring. He would be less than useless
if they continued the quest now, and Aragorn was probably tired of waiting
for him.
The elf looked up from his meditations to see Faramir staring
glumly out the window, and rebuked himself for forgetting Aragorn's
message. The man sitting in bed looked so despondent. "He wanted
to come and see you, Faramir," he said quietly.
"Where is he?" Faramir said in a small voice.
"The Lady called for him. She has news of our journey.
Aragorn was very sorry that he could not see you before he left."
"This is much more important," Faramir said meekly.
"I am not certain that he thought so," Legolas
suggested, his eyes twinkling as he saw a puzzled expression cross the
young man's face. "But if the Lady beckons, he must go. Now, tell
me your greatest wish and I will try to fulfil it in his stead."
Faramir bit his lip, thinking carefully before he answered.
"I want to be strong, Legolas. Can you help me?"
"There are many ways to be strong, my dear friend, and
you are already many of those," Legolas said gently. "But
I know that you long to be the warrior you once were, and that will
take time."
"Time again!" Faramir said with exasperation. We're
running out of time! he thought to himself.
Then Legolas had a thought. "Perhaps I can help grant
your wish after all. Until you are able to lift your sword again, you
might learn to use our elven knives. They are lighter, but just as lethal
in close combat. Would you like me to teach you?"
"Oh, yes, I would like that very much!" There was
no longer any trace of despair in Faramir's voice, and Legolas was very
glad that he had thought of this. He left to collect the weapons while
Faramir dressed, and then they spent the rest of the afternoon sparring
together. Legolas was right. The light knives were easier for him to
handle, and Faramir's lithe body was well suited to the acrobatics of
elvish combat. For the first time in weeks he felt his physical power
returning and felt new confidence in his battle skills. It was dinnertime
before Faramir realised that he had not thought of Moria all day.
The dark images in the mirror came mercilessly. The burning
village was replaced with scenes of a stone fortress surrounded by legions
of Uruk-hai, whose relentless assault breached the walls of the refuge.
He saw people running and screaming, fleeing the Orcs vicious attacks.
Legolas was shouting frantically for someone, but no one came. He could
not see Gimli anywhere. The next vision was of Merry, dressed in a strange
riding outfit and lying very still, a dead Uruk stretched across his
tiny body. A horrifying winged wraith flashed through the mirror, and
Aragorn flinched reflexively. Pippin stood in the wake of the creature,
tears streaming down his face as he knelt beside a dead white tree.
Next he saw himself and Faramir in a strange, still valley.
He seemed to be blowing a silver horn, summoning a host of spirits who
rushed at the two men, their incorporeal bodies brandishing ghostly
swords that he knew their own weapons could not defeat. The mirror flashed
and now he saw Frodo and Sam clinging helplessly to each other on a
rocky crag, their tiny bodies the only life in a river of fire that
threatened to engulf them at any moment.
These scenes were suddenly replaced by darkness, in which
Aragorn saw a full moon. The moonlight cast a peaceful glow on an ancient
mallorn-tree, under which he saw two bare figures lying together in
a loving embrace. After so many scenes of destruction Aragorn welcomed
this serenity, and fought to bring it into sharper focus. His mind reeled
when he saw Haldir embracing Faramir, kissing each other passionately.
Faramir's hands held the sides of the elf's face as if drawing him deeper
into his kiss. Haldir's arms encircled Faramir's waist, tracing the
newly healed scars that Aragorn could still see on his hips. As he watched,
Haldir extricated himself from the young man's grasp and began to work
his way down his body, gently grazing his neck, then moving lower to
tease his nipples with his tongue. The image faded until Aragorn could
only see the rapture in Faramir's face, and then that too was gone.
The mirror's surface was once again still.
Aragorn finally tore himself away from the mirror, his knees
threatening to give way. It took him a moment to get his bearings, and
he was surprised at first to see the Lady standing there. "Do you
know what it is that I saw?" he asked.
Galadriel shook her head. "I can only see flashes of
it, but I can tell that it has greatly troubled you. Remember that what
you have seen may not yet have come to pass. Your actions may still
change this course."
"There were terrible things, many enemies, more than
I had ever imagined."
"Yes, I share those dreams."
"How can we ever hope to stand against them?"
Galadriel smiled gently at him as she replied in Elvish,
"There is a reason that you are called Estel. Your destiny is intertwined
with that of the elves, and with the hope of Middle-earth. There is
much that you will be called upon to do before the end, much that saddens
you, but also much that will make your heart light."
"We must leave here immediately," Aragorn said,
his last vision still burning in his mind.
"Indeed, the fellowship must leave soon," Galadriel
agreed. "Your journey leads far beyond Lórien. But some
of your party are not yet ready for that journey." "Faramir
is much better. He will be able to travel very soon."
"It is not Faramir I speak of, Aragorn. Those who care
for the injured man need healing as well."
The Lady would say no more, only smiling enigmatically as
she departed. Aragorn's thoughts were indeed troubled and he took his
time returning to Caras Galadhon. Over and over he replayed the mirror's
images in his mind. There was death and destruction there, he knew,
and little room for hope. The only happiness foretold was Faramir in
the arms of another, and that brought Aragorn a pain that threatened
to overwhelm him.
They had to leave soon, he knew that. Legolas was right in
saying that Faramir needed two more weeks to heal fully. They could
spare that much time. Not that he could see how their small company
could hold back the waves of evil that the mirror had revealed. No,
Aragorn, you will not think of that, he chided himself. *Nothing
good can come out of that line of thought. We were there, we were all
there.*
Two weeks would give him sufficient time to study the elves'
maps and plot their course into Mordor. It will also give Haldir
more time with Faramir, he thought grimly.
Hard as he tried, Aragorn could not wipe the image of Faramir's
ecstasy from his mind. It was an image that he had long desired to see
on the young man's face, but it was one that he had hoped to be the
cause of. Haldir could not be attracted to Faramir, could he? Aragorn
had to know.
By the time Aragorn made it back to the City of the Trees,
it was already dark. He stopped by Faramir's room first, and was surprised
to find it empty. Aragorn's heart almost stopped. Is he with Haldir?
Aragorn looked towards the next tree and saw candlelight
flickering in Haldir's own pavilion. The guard's house was nearer the
bottom of a mallorn-tree, allowing him to exit more quickly. It also
made it easier for him to hear sounds from the outside, so Aragorn crept
quietly up the few stairs to his doorway. He desperately wanted to look
inside, but was equally frightened of what he might find. This is
ridiculous, he thought to himself. You're acting like a love-struck
maiden. Besides, he reminded himself, the image was under a
mallorn-tree, not indoors.
Bracing himself with these thoughts, he silently drew back
the curtain in the doorway. Haldir was standing alone, gazing out the
open window at the other end of the room. Something about his bearing
looked very sad, Aragorn realised, and his heart softened somewhat.
*Well, there is no time like the present,* he thought to
himself. Aloud he said, "You love him, don't you?"
Haldir whirled around swiftly. It was rare indeed that someone
was able to surprise him, but he had been lost in his thoughts. Thoughts
of Faramir, as always. When he saw Aragorn standing there, he grimaced.
"It is not so simple as that," he sighed. "There
are things that you will never understand about elves, despite living
among us for so many of your mortal years."
"I do not accept that love is something that can only
be understood by elves," Aragorn replied with as much dignity as
he could muster. All the way back to Caras Galadhon he had resolved
that he would not lose his temper with Haldir, he just needed to know
where things stood. But the elf's self-assured attitude had never bothered
him more than now. His next words made the situation worse.
"Your lives are so short, you want to rush everything,"
Haldir countered. "You never allow yourself time to think about
the consequences of your actions. This was never more true than now.
Yes, I love Faramir, and I desire him with all my being." Haldir
drew his breath in sharply. He had not expected to speak so freely,
yet saying the words he felt liberated. "You say you love him,
too, yet you don't want him to heal."
"Who are you to question my love? You are an elf! Not
only that, but you are a warden of Lórien. You have met few men,
and you have never allowed yourself to befriend any of them. What would
you know of how mortals heal – of how they love?"
"I can say only that I have learned something of it
in the past few weeks. And I know that only time will bring him any
lasting peace."
"I cannot see why Faramir's peace should concern you
so much," Aragorn said testily.
Faramir had just enjoyed one of the best dinners he'd had
in ages. All of the travellers were there, save Aragorn who was apparently
still with the Lady, and at first Faramir had found himself grateful
for his absence. Aragorn's physical presence had troubled him much of
late. Tonight his unused muscles were sore but he was well pleased with
his first knife instruction, and he looked forward to just relaxing
with his friends.
All his recent trepidation dissipated as he listened to the
carefree chatter of the hobbits and the gentle banter of Gimli and Legolas.
He found himself laughing heartily more than once, and realised that
part of him looked forward to their upcoming travels.
After dinner, they lounged on plush cushions around the fountain,
enjoying many goblets of elven wine as Merry and Pippin entertained
them with tales of a mushroom hunt with Orophin. Apparently his astute
eyes had been no match for the hobbits' instinctual abilities to uncover
hidden fungi. They cackled merrily as they mimicked the tall elf's ineffectual
efforts to spot mushrooms from afar.
Legolas' valiant attempt to defend the honour of elves was
tenderly rebuked by Gimli, and Faramir laughed to think just how far
the dwarf and elf had come from their earlier bickering. When Gimli
picked up a slice of pear and lovingly fed it to Legolas, the elf licking
the stray juices off his fingers, Faramir realised just how far this
really was.
Are they lovers? he wondered. His question was answered
when Legolas caught his eye and smiled shyly. Feeling himself blush,
Faramir quickly turned away. They are! He took a deep drink
from his goblet as this thought registered.
The idea pleased him for some reason. He knew that it did
not change his estimation of either one. He had been treated to a show
of Legolas' skill earlier that day, and would never deign to question
the elf's fighting abilities. And Gimli – since their first encounter
in Rivendell, Faramir had been impressed with the stalwart dwarf. His
courage in leading them through Khazad-Dûm, distraught as he must
have been about his kinsmen's fate, was undeniable.
And yet his two friends had turned to each other for comfort.
He watched as they whispered together, their teasing now revealed to
him as love, and he saw how well matched they were. In a flash it made
sense to him, and he realised how glad he was that they had been able
to find each other.
Faramir thought of the visions that now came to him several
times each day. Always he was making love to Aragorn or Haldir, and
being loved in return. Their touches were so gentle, their kisses so
sweet, and the feelings they caused were so real that they left Faramir
aching with need afterwards. It was getting harder and harder to wipe
these images from his mind. And he didn't want to. These feelings were
unrequited, he was sure. For his kindness alone, Faramir would have
loved him, but he knew the elf would never think of a mere man that
way. His beauty was so far beyond anything Faramir had ever imagined.
It was even harder with Aragorn. When Faramir dreamed of
the ranger, he felt his body completing the union that his mind had
already begun. He knew he loved Aragorn – had known it since that
first day in Rivendell when they met. Faramir felt that his entire life
had led to that moment – nay, not just his life, but also the
lives of his forefathers as far back as Húrin. He had pledged
to serve the king then, and had meant it with all his heart. In the
weeks since his feelings had grown ever stronger, tinged with a passion
that he had fought to deny.
Could it be that these feelings are not wrong? Faramir
wondered. At first he had thought the visions were signs of his depraved
mind, remnants of what the Uruks and Gríma had done to him. But
what he felt was entirely different than what had happened in Moria.
There had been no love there; he had been used foully, against his will.
The images he now saw were different. He was giving himself willingly,
and taking what he needed in return.
His next thought was even more startling. Could it be
that I do not have to deny my feelings? If Legolas and Gimli were
indeed lovers, then maybe it wasn't unheard of for males to lie together
in peacetime. If this were true, might his feelings also be accepted
by Aragorn?
As he pondered these questions, he felt a huge weight lift
from his shoulders. Suddenly he missed Aragorn's presence and decided
to try to find him. He wasn't sure yet whether he would be able to share
what he had discovered tonight, but he felt sorely in need of the man's
company, even if he would only sit beside him for a little while.
Faramir felt strangely light as he bade the others goodnight
and started towards the pavilion that the travellers shared. He was
surprised to find Aragorn wasn't there. The Lady could not have
kept him so late, he thought. Then, looking down from the treetop,
he saw two figures in Haldir's room. Gleefully, he sped down the stairs
toward it.
As he neared the low pavilion, Faramir heard his friends'
raised voices behind the drawn curtain. He thought to turn around quickly,
but hearing his own name drew him back. He paused and leaned close to
the doorway.
"Haldir, you know that Faramir cannot stay here. We
must continue the quest."
"He is not ready. He will be a liability, just as you
believed he was when you first met."
Faramir gasped, but Aragorn's next words stopped his breath
completely. "I admit that I did believe that. I hated Denethor
for sending his younger son. I wondered why Boromir did not come, the
warrior of Gondor that we all expected."
Tears welled up in Faramir's eyes. He had known in his heart
that this was true. Aragorn did believe that he was unworthy. Self-loathing
washed over him, and he missed the rest of Aragorn's words. Haldir's
next words shook him back to attention. "He is even weaker now
than when you left Rivendell. True, his body is healing, but his mind
is still fragile. It takes time to recover from wounds such as those
he has suffered."
"He does not have more time. None of us have any more
time, not even the elves. The ring must be destroyed before
Sauron's forces overwhelm us."
"And how will Faramir, as weak as he is, help you achieve
this? He cannot even lift a sword!" Haldir asked. "What would
you have me do? Leave Faramir here in your hands?" he heard Aragorn
say disdainfully.
"It is true that his presence is somewhat disruptive
to the guardianship of Lórien. Otherwise you would never have
caught me unawares tonight," Haldir said ruefully.
Faramir could listen no more. Aragorn did not want him to
go with him, and Haldir did not want him in Lórien. He was a
liability to his friends no matter where he turned. Oh, what had made
him think that he could help in this quest? Everyone could see his incompetence,
and he could not blame anyone for wanting to discard him.
With tears streaming down his face, Faramir ran out into
the moonlit night, hoping against hope that he could be engulfed in
blackness once again.
Hiril nín = my lady
CHAPTER EIGHT
Haldir and Aragorn continued to argue, unaware that the subject
of their discussion had fled in dismay.
"What would you have me do? Leave Faramir here in your
hands?" Aragorn asked.
"It is true that his presence is disruptive to the guardianship
of Lórien. Otherwise you would never have caught me unawares
tonight. And there is talk that I have become soft-hearted, devoting
so much time to a mortal. But I cannot help myself," he sighed.
"Yes, I would have him stay here, at least until he is fully recovered."
"He is a man, Haldir, not an elf that can withdraw from
the world for years. He will only get better when he turns his mind
to other things like our journey."
"And how will Faramir, weak as he is, help you in this?"
Haldir asked again.
"He has a part to play. And if nothing else, it will
help him."
"No, Aragorn, if you were honest with yourself you would
know that it is not Faramir you are thinking of. It is yourself."
The elf's words came out more strongly than he intended, but he could
not restrain himself. The ranger loved Faramir, of that he was certain,
but he suspected that part of his love grew out of his pride –
from his need to watch over all those in his company.
Haldir well knew about pride, and knew enough to realize
that his own love of Faramir was inextricably tied to his own need to
care for him. The challenge of healing his broken body and mind had
become something he just had to do. He hated to admit that Faramir's
recovery mattered almost as much to him as it did to the man himself.
"What do you mean by that?"
Haldir detected a note of warning in the man's voice, but
he could not stop himself. "I know that you lost Gandalf,"
he said defiantly, "and you do not want to lose another of your
friends." Aragorn felt the room spinning around him. Haldir had
hit upon his greatest fear – the very one he had confronted in
the Lady's mirror. The ring and all it meant were abstract ideas when
compared to those who depended upon him – the hobbits, dear Legolas,
loyal Gimli, and most of all Faramir. His legs threatened to give way,
and he sank into a cushioned bench.
Aragorn's voice was very quiet when he answered. "I
could not bear to lose Faramir. You are right about that. I love him
too much for my own good. But you are wrong when you say that is the
reason he must continue the quest. In fact, I fully expect to lose all
of them, for that is what is foreseen."
Suddenly he realised why Aragorn had not come back that morning.
"You have looked into the mirror of Galadriel," Haldir exclaimed.
"I am sorry – I did not know –" The mirror's visions
were always unsettling; in times like these, they bore very black tidings
indeed.
"Yes, and I saw all my company in peril," Aragorn
answered, despair in his voice. "You say that men do not consider
the consequences of their actions. This is all I can think about now.
Dark times are encroaching in every direction, and yet I have to pick
a course to lead my friends. No way is safe – I lead them into
danger no matter what I decide. Oh how I wish that it were not so!"
Haldir knew no words to soothe the man. He wanted to tell
him that all would be well, but he could not in truth say this. He started
to tell him that he could not choose his fate, but knew that the man
would think him patronising. Finally he did the only thing he could
– he sat beside him and put his long arms around his shoulders,
drawing him close. He remembered holding Aragorn like this once before,
when he had first been moved by the man's passion for his friend. Aragorn
did not cry now, but he rested his head gratefully on Haldir's shoulder
and drew a long breath.
A moment passed before he pulled himself from the elf's embrace.
When he looked up, his eyes were clear.
"I apologize for burdening you with this, Haldir."
"No, Aragorn, it is I who should apologize. I did not
realise what you had been through today. My mind is ever on Faramir,
and I did not think of your other concerns. You have foreseen him continuing
on the quest then?"
Aragorn was silent for a moment as a shadow crossed his face.
Finally he answered, "I have seen us together battling an unbeatable
foe."
Haldir winced. "I know not the details of your quest,
nor would I hear them, but I feared that danger lay before you. I had
hoped that he might be spared."
"As had I," Aragorn admitted. "But it is not
to be. We must leave in two weeks."
Aragorn saw Haldir's face fall, and he truly felt sorry for
the elf. Although they had disagreed about many things, he knew that
Haldir's love for Faramir could not be found wanting. Should I tell
him about the other vision? he wondered to himself. Would it ease
Haldir's heart to know what Aragorn had seen? Or would it make it harder
for him to let Faramir go? No, Aragorn finally decided, I
will not tell him. The Lady's mirror is too fickle. I know not whether
what I've seen will come to pass, or whether events may yet prevent
it.
But he had to do something to relieve Haldir's despondency.
Taking the elf's hand in his own, Aragorn said, "I love Faramir,
even as you do. He sees me only as the king, but my feelings for him
run much deeper. Be assured that I will never be reckless with his life.
I will gladly give my own if, by doing so, it might save him."
He squeezed his hand tighter. "And I promise you this, Haldir.
If we somehow succeed in this journey, I will see to it that he returns
to Lórien, at least for a time."
Haldir looked at the ranger gratefully. "You would do
that for me?"
Aragorn smiled. "No, but I would do it for Faramir.
Now I really must say goodnight. I am weary, and I would like to check
on our patient before I sleep."
"Please do. He will be glad to see you," Haldir
added. "Losto mae."
Just moments after Aragorn departed, Rúmil appeared
at his door. "Excuse me, brother. I did not want to disturb you
earlier, but Faramir has run away."
"What? Where did he go?"
"Orophin saw him running away from the City. He looked
upset, so he followed him. He is headed towards Cerin Amroth."
Why would he go so far? Haldir thought as he grabbed
his cloak. "Take me to him," he said aloud, then changed his
mind. "No, Rúmil, first find Aragorn and tell him what's
happened. I will go ahead."
The full moon lit the way for the elf's swift feet, and soon
he neared the ancient mallorn that marked the halfway point between
Caras Galadhon and Amroth's ancient mound. Suddenly he heard Orophin's
low whistle calling to him. He found his brother waiting nearby, but
he could not see the man anywhere.
"Faramir is here?" he asked. "Aye, brother,
he is on the far side of the mallorn. I would have approached him, but
he is very troubled."
"Do you know what happened?"
"Not really. I saw him outside your pavilion earlier
and I thought he was going to enter. He never did, though, he just ran
away a few minutes later."
*Had he heard them?* Haldir tried to think back to what might
have upset the young man. It could not have been the talk of the travellers'
fate. Faramir was a warrior, he would not have withered so easily. Was
it his own admission of love? Was that what had driven the man into
the night?
"I was not sure what to do," Orophin continued,
"so I sent word to you."
"Thank you, brother," Haldir said. "You did
the right thing. Now leave us please, I will look after Faramir now."
Drawing a deep breath, he approached the mallorn. The giant
tree had stood since the early days of Lórien. Its mighty girth
spanned the width of twenty men, and its pale golden leaves sparkled
in the moonlight. The tree was revered by the elves, and Haldir could
understand how Faramir might be drawn to it for solace. The young man
was there slouched against its trunk, his back facing Haldir. It would
do no good to surprise him, Haldir knew, so he gently spoke his name.
Faramir started and jerked his head around. "Haldir,"
he said, anger in his voice. "What do you want?"
"I was worried for you," the elf said gently, fighting
the urge to take the young man in his arms. "What are you doing
here?"
There was a long silence before Faramir replied, "Why
did you save me? I didn't want you to."
The steely tone in the man's voice frightened Haldir, and
he laid his hand on his shoulder. Faramir shrunk away from the touch.
Haldir felt a pain deep inside, and knew it was how Aragorn had felt
when Faramir had fled from him after Moria. "What's wrong, Faramir?"
he asked quietly. "What have I done to anger you?"
"Why are you always fussing over me? I didn't ask you
to."
"Faramir, please tell me what's wrong," Haldir
pleaded.
"You should have left me in Moria," Faramir answered,
his voice cold. "You should never have come back for me."
"What are you saying?"
"It was wrong of you and Aragorn to try to save me.
I should have died there. I deserved to die, after those beasts used
me." *Now I have become as depraved as they,* Faramir added to
himself.
How could he ever have thought that Aragorn might accept
his love? Even less that the elf might? For a few fleeting moments he
had thought that his feelings might not be wrong, but now he knew them
for what they were – as vile, debase nightmares every bit as hateful
as those of Gríma Wormtongue. Under the guise of comfort these
visions taunted him, forever reminding him that he could never fulfil
his deepest desires.
"Now I am no good to anyone," he said bitterly.
The pain in his voice broke Haldir's heart. "Oh, dear
heart," he said gently. "I cannot bear to hear you speak this
way."
Faramir ignored the endearment. "If I hadn't been rescued,
then you and Aragorn would not be arguing over who must take care of
me."
*So that's what he overheard,* Haldir thought. No wonder
he is upset. He knelt down beside Faramir and looked directly into
his misty grey eyes. "We were arguing because we both want to keep
you. Neither of us wants to let you go."
"It is not true," Faramir said, a single tear spilling
onto his cheek. "I am weak. You both said so. And now I'm useless
to you all."
"No, Faramir, you could never be useless. You are loved
deeply, you have no idea how much." Haldir could not resist reaching
out and taking Faramir into his arms. For a second he felt the man's
body relax into his embrace, but then stiffen.
"No, you are trying to trick me," Faramir exclaimed,
springing back out of Haldir's arms. "I heard you talking to Aragorn.
I heard you say that I was disrupting the peace of Lórien."
"You heard me say you were disturbing my peace, Faramir,"
Haldir admitted sadly. "And that is true."
"Then I should leave. I don't want to be a burden to
you. But I can't go with the others. I thought I could tonight, I thought
–" Faramir's words trailed off as he remembered all that
he had thought earlier during dinner.
"You could never be a burden, my dearest one."
The elf reached out to wipe the lone tear from his cheek. "Aragorn
and I were arguing about you, it is true. I would have you stay here
longer to recover, but Aragorn has convinced me that you have a part
yet to play in the quest. You will leave in a fortnight."
Faramir shook his head. "I would go anywhere with him,
I love him so. I want to be with him, even if he does not share my feelings."
He sighed before continuing in a miserable voice, "But Aragorn
does not want me with him. He thinks me weak – he said he wished
Boromir had come in my stead." Faramir closed his eyes as Aragorn's
words echoed through his head. He thought his heart would break.
Haldir's heart was breaking too. He had to let Faramir know
that Aragorn returned his love, but in doing so he knew he would forfeit
his own claim. His love for Faramir was overwhelming, but he knew that
the bond between the two men was even stronger. They shared hopes and
dreams that the elf could never understand. If I truly desire Faramir's
happiness, I must tell him, he thought.
Quietly Haldir said, "Then did you not hear what else
he said? That ever since that first day he had found you to be the bravest
and strongest man he'd ever met?"
"He did not say that!" Faramir looked doubtful,
but there was a gleam in his eye that had not been there a moment before.
"Did you not hear him say that he loved you more and
more with each passing day?"
"No, I don't believe you. Why would he say that?"
"Because it is true, Faramir. Your mind is noble and
your heart is true. You are courageous and strong, whether you believe
it or not. I see it, and Aragorn sees it. He wants you to continue the
journey because he cannot live without you by his side." Nor
can I, he thought grimly.
Faramir's face was full of confusion. "How can you say
that, Haldir? How could you think that about me? I am nothing –"
"Never say that," Haldir interrupted him harshly.
"You doubt yourself too much. You cannot see yourself as others
do. It is up to Aragorn and me to show you how much you are loved. Isn't
that right, Aragorn?" he said over his shoulder to the ranger he
had heard approach a few moments before.
"Aragorn!" Faramir leapt to his feet in surprise.
Aragorn walked up to the distraught young man, throwing Haldir
a grateful look as he moved away to make space for him.
Faramir looked up at him, his eyes suddenly brimming with
tears.
"It's true," the ranger said immediately. "I
do love you and I want you with me always."
Faramir's look changed to one of confused disbelief. He stared
at Aragorn, and finally the tears he had been fighting to hold back
fell.
"Oh love," Aragorn whispered holding out his arms
and pulling Faramir into his embrace.
"You – you really want me beside you?" Faramir
asked, his voice hoarse and muffled by Aragorn's chest.
"Of course, I do. Not just now during the quest, but
always."
"But the quest – I – I'm slowing you down,
and I cannot even fight!"
"Hush, love. You give us the strength to go on. It will
all be fine, I promise!"
Faramir raised his face and glanced up at Aragorn, his grey
eyes glistening, "Oh Aragorn! I never thought – I always
– I do so love you!"
"I know. Now." Aragorn said. As he kissed him on
his forehead he noticed Haldir slipping quietly away.
"Haldir!" he called out loudly, startling the elf
as well as the young man in his arms.
Haldir turned back silently, not missing the confused look
on Faramir's face.
"Haldir has something he wishes to tell you, Faramir."
"I do?" Haldir couldn't help saying. He looked
at Aragorn quizzically, wondering what he was up to now.
"Yes, you do. Come on, tell him."
"What is it?" Faramir asked staring from Aragorn
to Haldir.
"Tell him you love him," Aragorn said to the elf.
"What?" Faramir gasped, stiffening in Aragorn's
arms.
"Oh yes, indeed, he does," Aragorn said smiling.
"Haldir loves you dearly."
"But he's an elf!"
"Elves can fall in love," Haldir pointed out, the
only words he'd managed to say since Aragorn's announcement.
"But you're so perfect," Faramir cried out, "And
I'm – I'm – not! How – how could you love me?"
"You mean I'm not perfect?" Aragorn pouted, but
no one heard him. Faramir disentangled himself from Aragorn's arms as
Haldir walked back to him. He looked utterly bewildered.
"Like this," Haldir said in response to Faramir's
plaintive question, and gently reaching out for his face, captured the
soft lips in a gentle kiss.
Aragorn stared at them, and to his surprise, he felt not
jealousy, but a strange lightness of heart. They exuded such an aura
of healing love that he felt strangely blissful, and increasingly stirred.
The sight of the fair, golden elf kissing the dark young man sent a
shiver of excitement coursing through Aragorn's body. When Haldir finally
released Faramir, Aragorn felt bereft at losing the lovely image.
"I am sorry. I should not have done that," Haldir
said softly as Faramir gaped at him, his mouth still slightly open,
the pink lips glistening. "But I had to show you that I do love
you. Why would I not? You are brave, kind, and intelligent – what
fool would not fall in love with you immediately? I will understand
if you do not reciprocate my feelings, but I cannot let you ever think
so little of yourself. I shall leave you two now."
Aragorn could not miss the adoring gaze that Faramir bestowed
on Haldir when he was released. What he had feared was true –
Faramir did love the elf. But suddenly he realised that he was no longer
afraid of these feelings. Haldir turned to go, but Aragorn reached out
his hand to stay him.
"No, do not leave," he said. "I think you
will find Faramir has something to say too. But I fear that, like you,
he may be unable to speak coherently. I think he wishes for you to stay.
Am I right, Faramir?"
Faramir turned to him, tearing his gaze away from the elf,
and Aragorn saw a multitude of emotions flit through the grey eyes.
He nodded gently to reassure him. "We both love you, Faramir, and
I know you love both of us."
He moved closer to the two and slipped his arms around Faramir
from the back, so that the young man stood between man and elf, held
in place, securely and protectively.
Faramir could barely speak. This was even more wonderful
than his dreams.
"You – you really do? You really love me?"
was all he kept saying.
Gently, Aragorn moved his hair away and kissed him on his
neck, while Haldir kissed him along his brow.
"Oh!" Faramir gasped as both pairs of soft lips
descended on him. He felt the heat pooling in his lower belly, but he
no longer felt shame. No, he felt alive, and infinitely loved. Aragorn
was nipping along his shoulder now, shifting the sleeve of his tunic
downwards. Their hands held him securely between them, and he found
himself leaning back against Aragorn.
Then Haldir gently turned him around so Aragorn could kiss
his face. The ranger's lips met his, their tongues intertwining as they
devoured each other's mouths. Faramir felt the tickle of Aragorn's beard
against his own, contrasting with the smooth face of the elf as he nuzzled
the back of his neck.
"That was nice," Faramir finally murmured after
they had both kissed him sweetly and gently. "Don't stop there,"
he begged and it was obvious he spoke to both.
"What would you like us to do?" Aragorn urged softly.
"I could keep kissing you forever."
"I think you should tell us what to do," Haldir
said his eyes twinkling
"What I want to do?" Faramir said softly, "I
– I want -" he bit his lip musingly. "I – I like
what you were doing to me. I – I know how men make love to each
other. And I know it can give great pleasure. But I do not know if I
can – "
"No," Aragorn and Haldir said together, their voices
soft and gentle.
"No," Aragorn repeated his voice still soft, "not
yet."
"But there is much else we can do that is also very
pleasurable," Haldir said immediately.
Faramir looked up at both of them, trust and love shining
out of his eyes. "I should like to return that pleasure too."
They undressed, Aragorn and Haldir helping Faramir out of
his clothes, bestowing small kisses as each part of his body was revealed.
The full moon cast a soft glow on their bodies, on the fair, flawless
skin of the elf, the more weathered skin of the two men. Faramir's scars
looked like mere shadows in this light, and Aragorn and Haldir set to
work kissing them away. The night was cool, so the three of them gathered
close, Faramir in the middle, revelling in the heat of their bodies.
Facing Faramir, Aragorn kissed his shoulder rubbing against him. Faramir
gasped as the ranger's calloused hands touched his semi-erect length,
sending a thrilling jolt through his lower body. He threw his head back,
which Haldir standing behind him caught gently, turning his face sideways
so they could kiss. Faramir moaned in pleasure as Haldir's tongue gently
explored his mouth and stroked his hips slowly and sensually, even as
Aragorn's shaft pressed against his stomach. He felt Haldir's erection
poke against his hip, but it did not worry him. He trusted both of his
lovers implicitly.
Faramir was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of
awe. Here he was, being loved by the two people he had come to consider
so important in his life. His entire being felt alive, an electrifying
sensation racing through his veins. He felt loved and wanted.
He moaned louder as their contact became more frenzied, Aragorn
stroking him faster, Haldir kissing him more deeply. He quickly came,
emitting small, soft moans of pleasure. His legs felt weak and he almost
collapsed. Fortunately he was braced between his two lovers, who caught
him before he reached the ground.
After making sure that he was steady, Haldir laid their cloaks
on the ground beneath the mallorn-tree and motioned for the two men
to join him. "So much more comfortable," he said, stretching
Faramir out between them. As they began kissing his arms, roaming up
to his shoulders, and then onto his neck, Faramir felt himself harden
again. Faramir reached out his hand to touch Haldir's face, drawing
him to his lips for a deep kiss as Aragorn suckled the curve of his
neck. The elf moved away and began working his way down Faramir's neck,
and Faramir turned to kiss Aragorn in his stead. Their kiss was interrupted
when Haldir's wet tongue brushed over his hardened nipples. Faramir's
gasp caused Aragorn to pull back. When he did, he saw the rapturous
face foretold in the Lady's mirror. Aragorn smiled broadly before resuming
his passionate attack on the young man's lips.
The elf continued to work his way down his body. Faramir
cried out softly as Haldir mouth descended on his erection. Wrapping
one arm around Faramir's chest, Aragorn let his tongue explore the young
man's mouth, smiling as Haldir's efforts induced tiny yelps of pleasure.
Using his other hand, he gently stroked the line of Faramir's jaw, running
his fingers through his soft beard. Faramir whined softly as Aragorn
came up for air. His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily.
The ranger looked down and saw Haldir working his mouth up Faramir's
shaft, his lips encasing the hard flesh perfectly. He was working slowly
but steadily, letting his tongue snake its way up first and then following
with his lips.
Aragorn watched as he took Faramir's entire length in his
mouth, and found himself echoing each little moan that came through
Faramir's lips. The two lovers moulded perfectly in the moonlit night,
in perfect symmetry. Aragorn did not want to stop the exquisite sounds
of pleasure issuing from Faramir's mouth, so he ran his lips lightly
along the outside of his ear. An even greater moan encouraged him to
continue. With very delicate movements, he licked the ear with more
urgency. Faramir seemed to tremble, so he pushed his tongue into the
ear and lapped the tiny space even as the young man cried out lustily
and spilled into Haldir's mouth.
As the elf lifted his head, Aragorn saw his own deep longing
reflected in those green eyes. He reached out and pulled the elf toward
him so that they faced each other, both on their knees. Aragorn drew
Haldir's lips to his own, tasting Faramir's seed on his tongue. Haldir's
body was rigid at first, but relaxed as Aragorn explored his mouth.
A second later they both gasped as they felt Faramir's hands on their
erections. They glanced towards their young lover and relaxed as they
saw him smiling.
Faramir watched as his two lovers united in a deep, lingering
kiss, the dark outline of Aragorn's beard in contrast to the pale smoothness
of Haldir's perfect skin. He thought they looked extraordinarily beautiful
with their arms wrapped around each other. Faramir stroked his hands
along their rigid shafts, allowing his fingers to run up and down in
tandem. He loved the feel of the thick, wet flesh hardening under his
fingers. Haldir and Aragorn continued to kiss, moaning lightly into
each other's mouths.
"Move closer," he whispered, and they did, Aragorn
pulling Haldir to him so that the tips of their shafts brushed. Faramir
watched in delight as that simple touch sent them into raptures, the
kiss trailing off as they threw their heads back together. He stroked
more vigorously now, grabbing both shafts in his hands and rubbing them
together, inducing almost feral moans until they came together and collapsed
back onto the cloaks.
Afterwards the three lay resting on the ground until the
air turned chill around them.
"We should return to the City," Haldir said, rising
to gather the random pieces of clothing that had been scattered around.
Faramir started to get up to help him, but groaned and fell back onto
his back.
Aragorn was immediately at his side. "Are you all right,
love? Did we hurt you?"
Faramir reached out his hand to stroke Aragorn's beard. "It
was Legolas," he said, grinning as a confused look crossed the
ranger's face. "He was teaching me to use elven knives today. I'd
forgotten how sore I was."
"We'll carry you back," Haldir assured him, pulling
on his robe. Aragorn found his own tunic and carefully checked for stray
leaves hidden in the cloth. One could never trust an elf, a dwarf, and
four precocious hobbits to not guess what had happened, but he saw no
reason to make it easier for them. Behind him Haldir was fussing over
the younger man, helping him pull on his shirt. Aragorn turned to see
Faramir smile and pull Haldir's face closer.
He watched as their kiss deepened, his lovers' beautiful
combination of light and dark bringing a smile to his face. When he
saw Faramir's eyes open, an adoring look filling his face, Aragorn suddenly
realised that the loving grey eyes were looking directly at him.
Losto mae = sleep well.
CHAPTER NINE
The next two weeks passed quickly.
Haldir continued to sit with Faramir each night, sometimes
beside his bed, but usually in it. Faramir was still awed that the beautiful
elf desired him, but his confidence was growing – thanks to the
help of both his friends. And Faramir discovered that the elf's ears
were just as scintillating as his vision had given him to believe.
Aragorn still visited each morning, but Haldir no longer
rushed away immediately. The three friends took pleasure in each other's
company, well knowing that these days of peace would soon end.
Their afternoons were filled with preparations for the journey.
Faramir practiced knives with Legolas daily, and became very skilled
in their use. Although he would never be as fast as the elf, his lean,
muscled body was perfectly suited to the weapon. He took turns sparring
with Rúmil and Orophin as well, and the brothers readily admitted
that he would make a formidable opponent.
Faramir also helped Aragorn and Celeborn chart their course.
In addition to his rich store of maps, Celeborn's knowledge of the area
was extensive. Faramir was especially thrilled with his tales of Fangorn
Forest. He had heard tales of this mysterious wood in Minas Tirith,
though Boromir had dismissed them as old wives' tales. Celeborn assured
him that the old wives were right. Ancient tree shepherds had once roamed
there, and might still. These creatures did not welcome strangers in
their realm, and Faramir, although wishing to see them for himself,
promised that they would take caution if they ventured into this strange
land.
After consulting all the maps, they decided to follow the
Great River, as it offered the fastest way south. Although Faramir was
anxious to return to Gondor, he deferred to Aragorn's decision to ride
the Anduin all the way to Emyn Muil. Celeborn warned them what to expect
in Southern Mirkwood, and they felt well prepared to face the Orcs that
now haunted the outskirts of Mordor.
Finally the eve of their journey arrived. The travellers
feasted together with the Lord and Lady of Lórien, where they
were each offered the chance to stay in the City of the Trees if their
hearts so desired. Aragorn watched Faramir's face carefully as Galadriel
silently questioned him. Although he knew the young man had every intention
of continuing on their chosen path, a part of him did wonder if he was
tempted to stay in this beautiful land. But Faramir's face was guileless.
In it Aragorn saw only self-assurance and peace. Apparently the Lady
saw the same, for she gave him a dazzling smile after she finished.
After the Lord and Lady retired, the travellers lingered
for a while, reluctant to end their last night in Lórien. But
when Merry and Pippin set out to toast each of the elves they had met
so far on the journey, Faramir stretched his arms and yawned. "I
regret that I cannot join you, as the elves well deserve our regard,
but my bed calls to me and I will have to leave it far too early in
the morning. Sleep well, my friends."
Aragorn smiled at the double meaning in his friend's speech.
"Yes, we all have an early start in the morning," he agreed.
"I will turn in as well. Do not keep all of Lórien up tonight,
I would hate to wear out our welcome after so much hospitality."
As soon as they were outside, Aragorn pulled Faramir to him
and kissed him passionately. When they finally stopped for air, Faramir
smiled up at him, his eyes gleaming. "What was that for?"
he asked.
"That was because your bed is calling, and I will miss
you very much tonight."
"You aren't coming with me?" Aragorn was happy
to hear a trace of disappointment in the young man's voice.
"No, I am not. I will have you with me every night after
this one. Tonight Haldir has claimed you."
Faramir smiled at that. "Will you walk me home then?"
"Of course."
The men walked silently through the moonless night. When
they arrived at Faramir's room, Aragorn took Faramir's head in his hands
and kissed his forehead. "Good night, my love."
"Good night, Aragorn."
Haldir had not expected to be so nervous tonight. He kept
telling himself that it was like any other night, but he knew that it
wasn't true. It was his last night with Faramir, and he wanted it to
be perfect.
He was glad that Aragorn had told him earlier that he would
not be joining them tonight. He loved being with the ranger, but his
heart truly belonged to Faramir. These last two weeks had only strengthened
their love. Once he had overcome his awe of elves, and was finally convinced
that Haldir was really interested, the man had begun to share little
details of his life in Minas Tirith. He had talked of sneaking into
his father's study to steal volumes of poetry that Denethor did not
want him to read. He had spoken with excitement about the visits of
Mithrandir, and then wept in Haldir's arms as he thought of the wizard's
death. Mostly he talked of Boromir, of how his big brother had looked
after him when their mother had died, practically bringing him up in
the stone walls of the citadel. Listening to Faramir's worshipful words
Haldir could almost picture the man, and he found himself believing
that the warrior of Gondor might indeed hold back the forces of Mordor.
In turn Haldir had shared glimpses of his own two thousand
years with Faramir. He found himself remembering things that he had
long thought forgotten. He spoke of growing up in Lórien and
the pranks that he and his brothers had played on the Lord and Lady
when they were younger. He admitted his surprise when he was later chosen
as a march warden. And he shared his past encounters with men, and they
talked about why they had seemed arrogant and short-sighted.
Haldir realised that he had never opened himself up to anyone
quite like this before. He was surrounded by elves who had known him
for many centuries, and who never questioned who he was or what he liked.
By contrast, Faramir was curious about everything. He never seemed to
tire of hearing what he called history – what to the elf were
just long-forgotten memories.
And now he was leaving. This thought saddened him deeply,
but he had reconciled himself to it. This last fortnight had been filled
with more life than he had known in many years.
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard sounds outside
the pavilion, and then Faramir entered. The man looked gorgeous. He
was dressed in a rich garnet robe that complemented his dark colouring.
His cheeks were flushed from his wine at dinner, and his lips were still
bruised red from Aragorn's kisses. The elf could not imagine a more
lovely sight.
Without a word, Haldir opened his arms and his lover rushed
into his arms. Their lips found each other as a flurry of hands greedily
pulled their bodies together. The imminent journey added an urgency
to their meeting, and there seemed to be no time to waste. Faramir was
already tugging Haldir's robe over his head, breaking their kiss for
just an instant before attacking his lips again. Haldir started to do
the same to him, but the motion threw him off balance and he fell on
the bed, the man on top of him.
"Sorry about that," he said, feeling more than
a little clumsy.
"I'm not," Faramir said boldly, pressing his hips
suggestively against the elf. Haldir's eyes fell shut as the man's erection
strained against the velvet robe, his own finding a delicious pressure
against Faramir's stomach. They kissed again, Faramir's tongue probing
deep inside the elf's mouth, as their bodies grinded against each other.
At last their kiss ended, and Faramir slid down to nibble
on Haldir's neck. After a moment he murmured, "You are delicious
– you taste of honey." Haldir's smile broadened as Faramir
continued. "Now I want to taste all of you, my love."
He lowered himself to take Haldir's shaft into his mouth.
It was too long for him to swallow, so he gripped the base in his hand
and stroked it rhythmically as his head moved up and down. When he flicked
the elf's throbbing blood vein with his tongue, shivers of delight raced
through Haldir's body and he moaned. The moans increased as Faramir's
other hand fondled his balls. He cried out his name incoherently, realising
with satisfaction that his cries inspired Faramir to quicken his pace.
At last he abandoned himself to the rising tide of pleasure, riding
upon this indescribable feeling until the entire world seemed to disappear
into ecstasy.
Faramir slid back onto the bed beside Haldir. "You taste
delicious," he said, his husky voice almost making the elf stiffen
again, "but I need you now."
Faramir was still wearing his robe, and his erection was
straining painfully against the soft velvet. Haldir reached down and
tugged at the bottom hem, then lifted the entire thing off his lover
in a single flourish. As Faramir nestled back into the bed, the elf
appraised his body appreciatively. His scars were fading and the muscles
in his shoulders were becoming more defined. He was still pale, but
not nearly as gaunt as he had been even a few weeks before. Most importantly,
Haldir saw a peace in his eyes that had only surfaced recently. A peace,
and something else – perhaps pure lust –
"Haldir, what are you doing?" The man's
desperate voice interrupted his revelry.
"Just admiring my lover's body," he teased.
"Haldir, I am going to explode!"
The elf smiled devilishly. "I thought we might try something
a little different tonight, if you feel adventurous."
"Haldir, this is hardly a time for games!"
"Oh, this is no game," the elf said, as he rolled
onto his stomach and looked back into his lover's face. "I want
to feel you inside me."
"You – you do?" Faramir asked, watching as
Haldir's long fingers stroked his shapely buttocks sensuously. "I
won't hurt you?"
"Not if we do it right. Would you like to try?"
"Oh, yes – I think so." He sounded eager,
but still a little doubtful. Haldir knew this was a brave step for his
lover. His violation in Moria had naturally made him anxious about certain
things, and although Faramir had gladly accepted all the love that he
and Aragorn offered, they had never gone this far before. Haldir hoped
that if everything went well, this could help him further overcome his
demons.
"Good. Then hand me that flask beside the bed."
Faramir dutifully did as he was told, and was rewarded by the elf's
fingers slathering silky oil along his entire length.
"Oh, that feels too good," Faramir moaned.
"It gets better, trust me," Haldir laughed.
"Oh, I do," the man said, looking meaningfully
into the elf's eyes before reaching down to kiss his lips.
Then Haldir turned back over and rested on his hands and
knees, moving his hips until they were right before Faramir's slick
shaft. The man's hands on his hips guided him to the right spot, and
he felt the pressure on his ring of muscle. It was tight and Faramir
seemed hesitant to continue, but Haldir pushed back against him until
he slid inside. He gasped as he was filled slowly but completely.
An animal-like moan erupted from Faramir. "Haldir,"
he heard him say, as he felt the warmth inside him disappear, only to
reappear with the next thrust. He could only murmur Faramir's name in
response as their pace increased. He felt himself struggling for breath,
Faramir's hands on his hips urging him closer to release. Again he heard
his name called, "Haldir," this time as a cry of ecstasy as
Faramir exploded within him. The elf followed seconds later, Faramir's
name on his lips, collapsing under the man as the world spun around
them.
When Haldir was finally able to lift his head, Faramir's
shining eyes were the first things he saw. He kissed the man gently
and said, "That was incredible, Faramir."
"Was it really? I mean, I loved it, but – was
it really good for you?"
Haldir smiled at the anxious tone in his lover's voice. He
shifted to his side so he could face Faramir and stroke his arms. "That
was truly wonderful, my darling one. It has been a very long time since
I have felt so good." He looked into the man's face. "And
how are you? Did you like that?"
"Oh, yes!" Faramir's radiant face confirmed his
words. "I was afraid, you know –" his voice trailed
off, and Haldir quickly reassured him.
"Yes, I know. But you do know that this is very different.
I wanted you to do this – I wanted you desperately, my love, and
have since we first met."
Faramir hugged him tightly. "Yes, I do know this is
different. I did not imagine it could ever be this good." He thought
for a moment before asking, "Do you think I will ever be able to
let someone do this to me?"
"I do not know, my love," Haldir said softly, wrapping
his arms around the young man. "If you want it, then I suppose
you could. But only if you want it. No one will ever touch you again
unless you want it."
Faramir smiled at that, and nuzzled against Haldir's smooth
chest, absentmindedly fingering his nipple. Haldir felt himself begin
to stir again but fought the urge, his caretaker instinct taking over.
It was late, and the man had a long journey ahead of him tomorrow.
Aloud he said, "Let's get you under the covers. It is
getting cold, and you need to get some rest."
"I will get into bed, but I have something for you before
I go to sleep."
"For me?"
"Yes, something to remind you of me – so you don't
forget about me when the next man stumbles into Lórien,"
Faramir teased.
"I don't know, I have a taste for men now, you know,"
the elf teased, taking a sharp bite out of the man's shoulder.
"So I've noticed," Faramir said, squirming away
to extract a small wooden box from a pocket in his robe.
"What is it?" Haldir asked as Faramir handed it
to him and scrambled under the blankets.
"Well, open it and see."
Haldir lifted the wooden lid. Nestled inside was an intricate
carving of a city, many levels high, filled with tiny buildings, roads,
and walls that wound up a steep hill. Right through the middle rose
a sharp parapet like the keel of a ship. Atop this bastion rested a
flat promenade before what looked like a beautiful palace. The single
piece of wood from which it had been carved had been bleached and then
polished to a high sheen so that the city seemed to sparkle in the flickering
candlelight.
Haldir stared in wonder at the image in his hands. "What
is it?" he finally asked again.
"This is my home, Minas Tirith."
"And you made this for me?"
"I carved it, yes," Faramir said humbly, "but
Gimli made the box. He is much better at that than I am."
Haldir looked at the man in amazement. "Faramir, this
is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."
"No, Haldir, it's just a little thing –"
His words were drowned out by Haldir's lips and his repeated
mumblings of "Thank you, thank you, my love, thank you."
When Haldir finally stopped kissing him, he said, "I
have something for you too, Faramir." He placed Faramir's gift
reverently beside the bed before retrieving a larger box, wrapped in
a silken cloth, which lay on the table. "These are for you, my
beloved. I know that you will find a good use for them."
Faramir opened the box and then looked up at Haldir, his
eyes full of wonder. "Elven knives," he sighed. "Haldir,
they are lovely."
Haldir watched as his lover caressed the fine leather handles,
the Elvish words etched on the curved blade. "Yes, they are. They
belonged to my father. He left them to me when he went across the sea."
"Haldir, I cannot accept these," Faramir exclaimed.
"They are far too precious!"
"No, Faramir, you are what is precious. I want
you to have them."
"But they are an heirloom – you should keep them
yourself."
Haldir sighed. "Faramir, don't you understand, I have
enough heirlooms. Everything around me is an heirloom! You came into
my world and brought with you a freshness that I sorely needed. Your
love renewed my world."
He brushed a lock of Faramir's dark hair behind his ear before
continuing. "Faramir, you must take these. You must fight, and
you must survive, for Aragorn has promised that you will come back to
see me after you complete your quest. I hold him to that promise, and
I give you these weapons to ensure your safety. Use them well, and hurry
back to me."
Tears were shining in Faramir's eyes as he embraced Haldir.
"Yes, yes, I will come back to you. I swear that I will come back."
Finally Haldir managed to coax Faramir to sleep. He sat by
his bedside, watching the young man's breath rise and fall, as he held
a tiny image of a white city and thought of this perfect night.
EPILOGUE:
Minas Tirith, Midsummer's Eve 3019
The White City was abuzz with excitement – King Elessar's
betrothed was arriving today, with a full complement of elves from Rivendell
and Lórien. The Gondorians had seen many strange things of late,
what with the appearance of Halflings and wizards, invading Oliphaunts
and Haradrim, and the return of the king from exile. But this, the arrival
of the Lady Arwen Evenstar, seemed to have eclipsed them all.
Or perhaps it was only that, after so many years at war and
the death of so many, including the old Steward, a wedding was an especially
joyous occasion – and a royal wedding even more so. Whatever the
reason, everyone in Minas Tirith was eagerly looking forward to the
festivities. The king had ordered feasts for every level of the city,
with the best foods that could be found from Gondor and Rohan. Musicians
had been hired to entertain the crowds and rumours abounded that Gandalf
might treat the happy couple to a fireworks display. Old friends and
relations had travelled from as far away as Dol Amroth, and even Rohan
was represented by the lovely Princess Éowyn, who some suspected
had won the heart of Steward Boromir. It promised to be a grand day
for Gondor.
Inside a large room high in the citadel tower, two men were
also preparing for the arrival of the bridal party.
"Ow, that hurts!"
"Stop fidgeting, Faramir. You're acting so nervous anyone
would think you were getting married."
"Must you pull so hard? I'm not one of the horses in
your stable."
"Fine, then greet Haldir with your tangled ranger hair,"
Aragorn said, tossing the brush onto the dressing table. "I'm sure
he has done nothing special to look good for you today!"
"Do you think he has, Aragorn?" Faramir said dreamily.
"It has been over three months since we left Lórien, he
might care nothing for me anymore."
"Don't be absurd, my darling," Aragorn said, forgetting
his exacerbation as he kissed the top of the raven head. "Once
someone falls in love with you, I fear it is forever."
"You're a fine one to talk, getting married tomorrow,"
Faramir teased. "Haldir warned me of the fickleness of men."
In one swift motion the king lifted Faramir and tossed him
on the bed. "I see I must remind you of the worth of men before
you return to your elven lover," he said, falling on top of him
and undoing the silver laces at the neck of Faramir's tunic. The young
man playfully swatted his hands away, protesting half-heartedly as Aragorn's
lips viciously attacked the curve of his neck.
A sudden knock on the door interrupted them, to their dismay.
Aragorn sighed heavily as they got up from the bed. Faramir quickly
redid his tunic as the king opened the door to one of the citadel guards.
The guard bowed to him. "King Elessar, the wedding party has just
reached Rammas Echor. They should arrive within the half-hour."
"Thank you, Falborn. Please bring them to the citadel.
We will meet them outside the Great Hall."
The man bowed again and left. Aragorn met Faramir's eyes
and smiled. "I see my lesson will have to wait until you return.
And when will that be again? In two weeks? Three?"
Faramir returned his smile. "I promise to return by
Yáviérë at the very latest. That's just three months
away." Seeing the pained look in Aragorn's face, he quickly added,
"And if you still intend to escort the hobbits home, you might
enjoy some time in Lórien yourself. Besides, now is the best
time for me to leave. I have few pressing duties, and I think that the
Lady Arwen will want her husband to herself for a little while at least."
"Yes," Aragorn admitted, "you are probably right. But
please hurry back. Your brother would make a fine steward in wartime,
but he leaves much to be desired in times of peace. Gondor needs you
here with me."
"Oh, is it Gondor that needs me?" Faramir laughed,
wrapping his arms around the king's waist and lifting his chin to kiss
him. "Gondor will be quite happy with a Queen now, especially one
as beautiful as the Lady Arwen."
"Can you honestly say you are not jealous at all?"
Aragorn asked.
Faramir unwound himself from his lover's arms and sat down
again at the dressing table, scrutinizing his appearance as he considered
the question. Finally he admitted, "I do not feel threatened by
your relationship, if that is what you ask, but I cannot say I am not
envious of it. You have known each other for so long. Even when I first
saw you together in Rivendell I envied your closeness. You seemed very
comfortable with each other."
He looked closely at Aragorn's reflection in the mirror,
and the older man nodded. "Yes, that is true. We fell in love so
long ago, when I was very young. I always knew we would marry, and have
children, and that I would grow old beside her." Aragorn moved
to stand behind Faramir, resting his hands on his shoulders. "And
in truth, I never thought to love another so much." He picked the
brush back up and ran it – more gently this time – through
his lover's dark hair.
Faramir watched the king in the mirror, smiling at his wrinkled
brow as he battled a stubborn tangle. "And now what will you do
with your lover once the queen arrives?" He knew the answer already,
but he realized he needed to hear it again.
"I will force him to wear his hair short, for a start,"
Aragorn said with mock annoyance. Faramir giggled as he took the brush
from him, and expertly untangled his thick black hair. "Then I
will proclaim him my chief councillor, to advise me on all the urgent
matters facing Gondor."
"And then?" Faramir asked expectantly.
"I will make him the Prince of Ithilien in reward for
his valiant efforts during the war of the ring."
"Anything else?"
Faramir sounded very impatient now, and Aragorn decided to
give him what he wanted. He leaned down and kissed him, gently biting
his full bottom lip before saying, "And he will share my bed every
night, and serve the King of Gondor in every possible way."
"Oh, yes!" Faramir's eyes were shining now.
"And I will command him to remain with me in Minas Tirith,
and not allow him to run off to Lórien with a gorgeous elf,"
Aragorn added, as he stood up.
"Now who is jealous of whom?" laughed Faramir.
"It is not jealousy," Aragorn replied. "It
is realistic. I am merely a king, how can I ever hope to compete with
the warden of Lórien?"
"You will never have to compete, my love," Faramir
said. He stood up and straightened the king's sable tunic as he talked.
"You know that you are what I live for. I need you just like I
need air to breathe. You are a part of me, part of my mind and my body.
Not even Boromir, who I love more than my life, can compete with you
for my affection." He paused as he pressed the soft velvet of the
tunic into place, then stood back and cocked his head to one side to
examine his work. Aragorn watched him with a bemused expression, but
Faramir was too absorbed to notice.
Aragorn loved watching Faramir when he didn't know he was
being observed. After leaving Lórien he had kept a close eye
on Faramir, unwilling to let any further harm befall his lover. He had
witnessed his fighting prowess at Amon Hen, where the fellowship was
divided by an Orc attack, as well as in their battles at Helm's Deep
and the Pelennor. He had been heartened by his courage as they ventured
through the Paths of the Dead. In Edoras they had met Gríma Wormtongue,
and he had seen the young man face his enemy with intelligence, calmness,
and even compassion. Only Aragorn knew what this show of strength had
cost him. As he comforted the weeping young man in his arms that night,
Aragorn was reminded that his recovery was not yet complete. He vowed
to do everything in his power to bring Faramir some peace, knowing that
he would forfeit his own life if it would help this man he loved so
dearly.
Once they were back in Minas Tirith, Aragorn had been concerned
that Denethor's demise might prove a setback to Faramir's fragile emotions.
Both brothers had been disconsolate at their father's death in the Battle
of Pelennor, and he had found himself comforting Faramir more than once,
but the younger man had finally rallied with his and Boromir's support.
Since the war ended there was no longer any need for this
protectiveness, but by now watching Faramir had become second nature.
Now he found himself relishing the tiny things that revealed more and
more about this man he had come to love. His quarters were fastidiously
neat, the only disarray in the books scattered wherever Faramir happened
to be reading. He insisted on helping Aragorn select his attire for
each public appearance, and the king soon discovered that he had an
exquisite sense of style. He had insisted on the sable tunic today,
claiming that it matched perfectly with the Lady Arwen's ebony hair
and suggested a visual connection between them that Gondorians outside
the citadel could see from afar. This attention to detail was just one
of Faramir's endearing qualities. The king found his thinking fascinating,
and realised he adored him more with each passing day.
When he was finally satisfied with the king's appearance,
Faramir said softly, "Haldir can never come between you and me.
The way I love him is different. I am still in awe of him, I think.
He is so beautiful, so far above me that I still cannot believe he loves
me."
"Of course he loves you, my darling," Aragorn said,
as Faramir turned his attentions to his own tunic. Aragorn watched him
with deep appreciation. If anything he had grown lovelier since they
left Lórien. His deep blue robe set off his smoky eyes perfectly,
and they shone like brilliant gems sparkling in the bright sun. His
strength had fully returned now, and Aragorn could make out his sinewy
muscles through the cloth. His lean build had filled out somewhat, and
he had lost his former gaunt appearance.
"You can never see your own beauty, Faramir, nor will
you believe how wonderful you are," Aragorn finally said, struck
with the truth of his words. "So Haldir and I must keep proving
to you that you are loved, even if that means I must share you with
the elf."
Faramir blushed bright red now, and Aragorn yearned to savour
those ruby lips once more, but their time was quickly running out. Instead
he reached his hand out to stroke his cheek, and was rewarded when Faramir
leaned into his hand and gently kissed his palm. Aragorn sighed and
bestowed a quick kiss to Faramir's forehead as another knock sounded
on the door. They smiled gently at each other and finally hurried out
to meet their lovers.
THE END
