The Library of Minas Tirith had many fine things to recommend it. It
held many important scrolls, many of which that spoke of days past and
treaties signed, of previous victories and subsequent mistakes. It was
full of books, scrolls and parchments, of dust and the occasional fat
mouse. And at this point in time it also contained the current Steward
of Gondor, pouring over one of the said scrolls with a look of deep
concentration gracing his features.
"Ah. There you are," the tone was light as it broke the silence of
the library.
Faramir glanced up from his scroll and frowned slightly as though unable
to recognise the figure who had managed to stand not more than three
feet away without him noticing. Finally Faramir smiled grimly and turned
back to the scroll in front of him.
"Legolas." The tone spoke of acknowledgement rather than welcome. Faramir
knew all about Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood who had accompanied Aragorn
during the Fellowship and fought beside him rather than being filled
full of arrows and spending the war in the Houses of Healing as Faramir
had. The old friend. The elf that Aragorn always spoke of fondly, even
when recounting tales which certainly shouldn't have encouraged any
sort of fondness at all.
Oh yes, he knew about Legolas. And now the bloody elf was standing
in his library. It was enough to make you weep, if you were that way
inclined.
"Am I interrupting?" the elf eyed the scroll impassively before surveying
the young Steward. Faramir sighed, and shook his head.
"No. I believe I should have some type of break here anyway, before
my eyes go odd." However, the reluctance in his voice was clear. The
elf chose not to listen to this unwelcome tone, and merely raised an
eyebrow in question at the scroll. Having interpreted this gesture easily,
Faramir shook his head. "It's nothing interesting. Merely politics."
"Ah." Legolas nodded. The politics of man was a strange beast indeed,
and often spent much of its time chasing after its own tail. Faramir
tapped the wooden table with a finger, and sighed heavily again.
"Anyway. What can I help you with?" his blue-green gaze fell on the
elf curiously. Legolas never tended to visit him, preferring the company
of Aragorn or Gandalf, or indeed anyone else in the entire city of Minas
Tirith. Apparently he wasn't interesting enough, or possibly that Aragorn
had told Legolas in no uncertain terms to leave his part-time lover
alone.
For part-time he was, indeed. Aragorn was married to a beautiful but
aloof elven princess who seemed to be constantly busy. Faramir had never
really worked out what she did, mind you. An elf was extremely difficult
to follow, and it was definitely against the regulations of the Steward
to spy on your own queen. Aragorn refused to discuss her, apart from
the confirmation that Arwen had no issues with regards to their relationship,
and in fact encouraged it. On the basis that sudden death failed to
come to him, Faramir could only assume that this was indeed correct.
Women were odd. Elves were odd. Logically it made sense that the oddest
of the lot would be a she-elf.
Legolas settled himself on the edge of the table, and picked up a dog-eared
book idly.
"I was sent to find you by Éomer. He is leaving shortly and wished
to discuss the delivery of some mares to your stables to restock." Legolas
was flicking through the book as he spoke, a slight frown crossing the
elf's face as he scanned the paragraph in front of him. "What curious
things you men write about. Was there nothing nice?"
"Nice things tend not to be important." Faramir had gone back to his
scroll, despite having promised himself a break. His finger tapped slightly
faster, a steady beat in the interior of the library. Legolas shook
his head.
"Of course nice things are important. What would life be without its
pleasures?" The elf flicked through a few more pages idly, ignoring
with ease the frustrated look that passed over the Steward's face.
"Less complicated," replied Faramir dryly. "Anyway, thank you for the
message. I will find Éomer before he leaves. I doubt whether he will
go before the noon meal, knowing the power of his stomach on decisions."
Legolas nodded, still looking at the book and paying no heed to the
exit he was expected to take. After a few moments he was aware of the
steward's steady gaze on him, and looked innocently towards the young
man.
"I'm sorry, am I disturbing you?" the elf asked.
The tone was just right. Faramir looked apologetic but his eyes failed
to fully disguise the wariness and annoyance that the steward was currently
holding in. Legolas was intrigued.
" No, I just assumed you'd have better things to do with your time
than watch me work," the Gondorian replied. Legolas smiled beautifully.
"Ridiculous! We never seem to have any time to ourselves do we? It's
nice to finally get a chance to talk to you without Aragorn interrupting."
The elf looked even more curious, and leaned forward slightly. "I understand
you have a very close relationship with the king?"
Faramir's wary expression increased ten-fold. Although his relationship
with Aragorn was in no way a secret - it was never a good idea to keep
secrets from women for a start - it was not exactly public knowledge.
The Gondorian had actively kept away from the topic whenever he was
with Aragorn's old colleagues, having a damn good idea that they would
certainly not approve of such a union.
"We have an understanding," he allowed. Legolas smiled again.
" An understanding! Ah, the typical understatement. Unless Aragorn
has been exaggerating in his claims?" the elf watched the man closely,
and kept his smile under tight control as a flush rose to Faramir's
face. The scroll was almost completely forgotten in the human's discomfort.
"What sort of claims has he been making?" managed Faramir with a sinking
heart and wondering whether he would be able to look the rest of the
council in the face again. If Aragorn wasn't the king of Gondor he would
be having some serious words with him. And possibly some very rude ones
as well.
Legolas shrugged lightly.
"Nothing in any detail. He was just happy with the current sleeping
arrangements, shall we say, and even more so that Arwen approves," the
elf had turned back to flicking through the book, as though hunting
for pictures. Faramir narrowed his eyes briefly before turning them
back to the scroll in front of him until Legolas' next question completely
ruined his concentration.
"Are you happy with the sleeping arrangements?" the tone of
Legolas' voice was nothing but friendly. However, Faramir wanted nothing
more than to sink lower in his chair in defence. God, he hated talking
about that sort of thing. He even had to leave the inns whenever the
soldier's talk turned that way. Theirs was a relationship that benefited
from not thinking about it too much, especially given the speed of their
usual encounters. Cheetahs would be put to shame.
"I'm fine," he said shortly. Legolas abandoned the book to give him
a thoughtful look. Faramir resisted the urge to sink even further. For
a start, there was only so far he could sink without becoming a floor
rug.
"Forgive me for saying so, Faramir," said the elf in consideration.
"but you do not look like a man who is entirely relaxed. There is no
problem between you and Aragorn?"
"No!" Faramir denied this hotly. A little too hotly. Legolas' interest
grew.
"Nothing at all? Well, that is good news! So many couples have little
differences, little demands that fail to be met," the elf shrugged lightly,
and picked up a new book. This one did have a few pictures, but mostly
of war techniques which were hardly interesting in the slightest.
He was aware of the human giving him another suspicious look out of
the corner of his eye, although that was hardly unexpected. Faramir
seemed to consist of either wariness or suspicion, depending on who
he was with. It was only whilst travelling with his rangers that the
man relaxed enough to be able for the personality to shine through.
Equally, Faramir's opinion on Legolas seemed almost continually low.
No doubt Legolas had Aragorn to thank for that. Aragorn never liked
his lovers to meet up, and Legolas was almost definitely sure that the
new King of Gondor had failed to mention to Faramir that previously
his king had spent a large period of time doing unsuitable things with
Legolas. No doubt Aragorn would maintain it was past history.
By the amount of time Faramir spent in the library, obviously history
might be an interesting subject to him…
"Well, I'm not saying we're perfect." Faramir said finally, trying
to ignore the topic by looking like he was focusing on the scroll. His
finger tapped a little faster on the wooden table in his agitation.
"There's always something slightly insufficient."
"Like what?" Legolas pressed. Faramir flushed again, and stared at
the scroll harder.
"Small things. Stuff. That's all."
"He makes too many demands?" suggested Legolas, and was intrigued by
Faramir's snort of amusement before the human managed to recover enough
to regain his neutral expression. The elf cocked his head to one side,
considering him. "So it is too few?"
Faramir gave him a stern look. Legolas, who had withstood his father's
tempers, Lord Elrond's unyielding glares and the occasional thunderbolt
from Gandalf, looked back without a flicker. The Gondorian looked like
he was about to grind his teeth.
"Aragorn is completely fine when it comes to the bedroom," he said
finally. Legolas looked polite.
"Only fine?" Obviously Aragorn had been slipping in his old age.
"What did you want instead?" Faramir finally burst out. "Song and dance?
We know each other now, we have a routine, everything happens fine.
Okay?"
Legolas stared at him sorrowfully. "A routine?" he echoed. "So every
time you see each other you know exactly what's going to happen?" he
shook his head sadly. "No, that should be for reports, not lovemaking."
Faramir managed to stop himself from growling his frustrations. "Welcome
to my world, Legolas. What would you suggest I do?"
The elf was silent for a moment, simply studying the obviously agitated
young man in front of him. Finally he sighed lightly, and closed the
book to focus his attention on Faramir. His full attention. Faramir,
who used to only be the centre of someone's attention if they were upset
with him, resisted the urge to look away.
"I might have a few suggestions to make," Legolas said lightly. "Some
techniques you might find useful."
The wary expression from Faramir was certainly interesting, the Gondorian
looking as though Legolas was some sort of dangerous animal on his doorstep.
Legolas raised an eyebrow and settled himself even more comfortably
on the edge of the wooden table.
"If I spoke to Aragorn-" he began.
"No!" Faramir now looked panicked. "You can't tell him I've been speaking
about this. Please!"
The elf looked back at him, then shook his head. "To be fair, you have
been speaking very little about this," he said slightly pointedly. "but
I understand your meaning."
"Promise me you won't say anything to him!" Faramir was some distance
from actually pleading, but there were certain elements in his voice
that were not a million miles away from it. Legolas hesitated in the
face of such raw emotion.
"I will not say that we were discussing it," he said finally. Faramir
almost sagged with relief. Legolas smiled to himself, and slid off the
table gracefully, landing on the floor with no sound whatsoever. "I'm
sorry, I am distracting you from your duty," his voice was completely
apologetic. Faramir was too relieved even to respond to this.
Legolas slipped out the library in search of the partner in question.
"How do you spell unequivocally?" Aragorn was also busy with city work,
frowning towards his parchment as though it contained the meaning of
life itself. Legolas shrugged lightly.
"I don't. Aragorn, might I have a word?"
The king glanced up at him and smiled ruefully. "A word? Is this an
actual word or is this simply a way to indicate you intend to talk to
me at some length?" he frowned back down at the parchment and scribbled
a few lines. Growling softly, he screwed the parchment up into a ball
and threw it towards the window. It missed. Legolas idly walked towards
it and recovered the paper.
"Some length, I suppose, for I had intended to continue past a single
word." Legolas watched the king as he lounged back in his chair, only
half a mind on the elf in front of him. The elf sighed to himself. Humans
were so incredibly unfocused on occasion.
"It's about your sexual behaviour," he said in a much louder voice.
Aragorn glanced up, startled, his quill dropping slightly before he
got a hold of it and laid it down.
"My sexual behaviour?" he echoed in astonishment. "What on earth are
you talking about?"
"If you don't know, then obviously you do need a lot of work," replied
the elf, folding his arms. Aragorn studied him briefly then shook his
head irritably.
"Legolas, I need to work. Discussions about my private life can wait,
surely?" there was a brief look of concern cross his face. "Arwen didn't
put you up to this did she?" he added cautiously. Legolas shook his
head. Aragorn visibly relaxed.
"Thank the Valar for that," he murmured to himself and re-seized his
quill. Legolas watched him for a few moments longer before coughing
lightly. The quill paused mid-scratch. Aragorn sighed.
"What?"
"How is your relationship with Faramir, Aragorn?"
Aragorn took the time to study the elf in full. His quill was carefully
placed down again. The king wet his lips before speaking, and when he
did speak it was careful, calm and relaxed. Too calm.
"Faramir?" Aragorn said it as though he didn't even recognise the name.
Legolas rolled his eyes.
"Your steward. Your current play-thing in bed."
"Yes, I know who he is," snapped Aragorn. "And he's not my play- thing."
Legolas looked surprised, tossing the ball of paper in one hand and
catching it smoothly, his eyes fixed on Aragorn. The king looked annoyed
and guilty all at the same time. It was quite a feat.
"So you don't just pick him up when you feel like it? Just to rut out
your frustrations and that's it?" Legolas cocked his head to one side.
"It's hardly as though you hadn't done it before, Aragorn."
"That was different, I was younger and it's none of your business."
Aragorn's expression was hard as mithril. Legolas continued, unabashed.
"So you take the time to make it special?" the elf continued. The king
sighed heavily and pointedly.
"We're both busy men, Legolas, in case you hadn't noticed. When would
we have time? We barely have enough time to sleep, let alone …," Aragorn
made a gesture with his hand. Legolas watched him politely.
"Fuck?" he asked sweetly. He earned himself a glare from the king.
"I prefer the phrase `make love'," he replied coldly. Legolas smiled
at him.
"I prefer a number of things, Aragorn. However, this does not mean
I always get it." The elf tossed the paper ball again idly. His dark
blue eyes surveyed Aragorn in interest. The king had given up all thought
of writing the treaty and was merely watching him suspiciously, knowing
that particular innocent look and what it was likely to lead to.
"Was there a point to your visit, Legolas?" Aragorn's voice was slightly
pointed. Legolas smiled at his old friend in the manner that old friends
and lovers could get away with, and tossed the ball again.
"Merely attempting to help, Aragorn."
"Would it be too much to ask if you didn't?" sighed Aragorn.
Legolas considered this, and smiled beautifully again.
"Yes," he said finally. "I think it might be."
The request had come from one of the larger merchants who often stopped
at Minas Tirith, and it could not have come at a worst time. Faramir
had finished his research after many many hours pouring over the scrolls
and had managed to obtain both information and a large and painful headache.
It throbbed behind his eyes, and hurt every time he moved his head to
the extent that he wondered whether cutting it off might not hurt less.
The message itself had been delivered by Beregond just after Faramir
had spoken with Éomer, the horse-lord giving his friend a cheerful grin
before beginning his journey to Edoras. Faramir had raised an eyebrow
at Beregond's very presence, having believed that the citadel guard
had been off duty, but then again Beregond's duty to Gondor was so firmly
ingrained Faramir doubted whether there was ever an 'off duty' period
for the guard. His wife must be a long-suffering woman indeed.
"Why did you put him in these chambers?" he queried lightly as they
walked the stairs leading to the chosen meeting room.
Beregond kept his eyes forward as he was wont to do. Occasionally Faramir
had the urge to physically move the guard's head to face him himself,
but always managed to resist. He knew only too well what it was like
to prefer acting in a particular manner, and Beregond's style had indeed
been safest whilst Faramir's father had been alive.
"He requested a comfortable place to discuss matters, sir," replied
Beregond. "These were the best I could think of under the circumstances.
I did not wish to interrupt the king, who is currently in the throne
room."
Faramir nodded thoughtfully as they stepped up to the door. It was
one of the more luxurious rooms that the Citadel had to offer, and,
in keeping with this, the door that lead to it was solid and proud,
with a lock that was almost decorative. Beregond opened the door and
stepped aside in the corridor to allow the steward to enter.
Once he had entered the room, it took Faramir only a few moments to
realise that the chamber had been altered in its furnishings and that
there was distinctly no one else there. However, he was more concerned
with the door shutting smartly behind him, the key turning in the lock
as the Gondorian attempted to push it open.
"Beregond!!" Faramir aimed a kick at the door, which remained firmly
closed. Let me out of here!"
Nothing.
Faramir growled in his throat and kicked the door again, harder. It
refused to budge. He growled again and paced up and down beside it,
staring at it thoughtfully. However, he knew damn well that door wasn't
moving unless the key said so. The lock was almost as hefty as the walls
themselves.
The ranger decided to give his slightly throbbing foot a break and
simply prowled around the room, occasionally muttering to himself about
pesky guards. He frowned at the décor. Someone had been busy indeed.
Silken throws lay over the large wooden bed. Pillows and cushions had
been piled near the headboard, forming what was almost a mountain of
comfort. Candles had been placed around the room, their flickering lights
casting an almost romantic glow.
Faramir narrowed his eyes, and finally perched himself on a comfortable
chair which had been draped with a velvet blanket. His eyes found the
bottles of wine that had been placed carefully in a corner, and the
corner of his mouth twitched upwards.
If he was stuck here he might as well get drunk at the same time.
Aragorn was less easy to get into a room, mostly because his efficiency
was so much less than Faramir's. Something always cropped up with the
king, and such things were almost always incredibly important to someone.
Legolas merely awaited Aragorn's exit from his chambers and caught hold
of his arm as he passed.
The King stared at him in bewilderment, although recovering remarkably
quickly. He glanced along the empty corridor then back at the elf as
though expecting Legolas to be a figment of his imagination.
"Legolas? I thought you were already at the evening meal,"
Legolas shook his head decisively. "Something has cropped up," he replied,
a serious note entering his voice. Aragorn stared at him in confusion,
then his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"This something hasn't got anything to do with the conversation we
were having before, does it?" he asked guardedly. The elf shook his
head.
"Aragorn," he said solemnly. "You really should learn not to be so
paranoid."
The ranger decided not to comment on that, and assessed the likihood
that he was going to be able to get out of Legolas' clutches. The probability
was not good. Sighing, Aragorn allowed himself to be propelled up the
stairs and along several corridors, the king occasionally nodding acknowledgements
to passing soldiers and tried to pretend he actually had some say in
where Legolas was taking him.
"Can this not wait?" he protested. Legolas sighed heavily.
"If it could wait, Aragorn, I would not have needed to get involved."
he said reproachfully. There was a heavy sigh, this time from Aragorn.
"Involved with what, exactly?" he queried. Legolas held up his
hand for silence as they approached a heavy looking door. Aragorn raised
an eyebrow and turned his attention onto it. There was a brief pause.
"And?" Aragorn looked back at him.
"Need you be so impatient?" Legolas was not to be hurried.
"I don't have time to be impatient." Aragorn eyed the door in front
of them, and finally looked back at Legolas in question. "So, are we
just here to admire the handiwork or are we supposed to be meeting someone
here?"
The elf eyed him again, and produced a key. The king folded his arms
and waited as the elf carefully unlocked it as though not to make a
sound, and paused as the door softly clicked. He glanced back at Aragorn.
"After you," he said smoothly. Aragorn looked at him for a moment,
then shrugged, and pulled open the door, stepping inside.
He scanned the room, frowning as he took in the decorations and candles.
Faramir glanced up at him from his position lying on the bed, and gave
him a lazy nod. An almost empty bottle of wine sat on the table near
the bed, a glass next to it. The elf stepped into the room behind him,
and swiftly shut the door, locking it with another faint click. However,
Aragorn was not really paying attention to what Legolas was doing behind
him.
"Faramir?" the king frowned even harder, and glanced at the bottle.
"You drank all of that?"
The Gondorian shrugged, and almost over balanced. Chuckling to himself,
he managed to struggle to a better position and try to water down the
amusement on his face. The king was conscious of Legolas standing to
the side of him, the elf shaking his head disapprovingly.
"It is just as well I brought several bottles," Legolas remarked.
"It's nice stuff," came Faramir's contribution from the bed.
They watched the Steward for a few moments more. Faramir suddenly realised
the level of assessment and hurriedly tried to get into a less comfortable
position, although almost his balance again. A cushion was sworn at.
"What exactly did you give him?" asked Aragorn in fascination. Faramir
was nowhere near the level of hardened drinkers such as Gimli and Éomer,
but ordinarily he certainly could hold his own. The steward looked now
as though he had put away three bottles instead of the one.
The elf smiled to himself.
"Special recipe."
"So I see. Faramir, love-" Aragorn stepped forward and grabbed hold
of the Steward before he made the mistake of actually trying to use
his legs for walking purposes. "just settle down, okay?"
Faramir sat back against the mound of pillows and watched his king
thoughtfully. Aragorn frowned at him. Up close, Faramir didn't seem
that drunk. His eyes were fully focused, his speech wasn't slurred.
However, the mood was definitely one that Faramir did not tend to get
unless alcoholically persuaded. Aragorn ran his hand over the younger
man's brow in case of a strange illness.
Legolas watched him.
"He's just relaxed, Aragorn," he commented, wandering over to the remaining
bottles and carefully selecting one. "He's not about to collapse on
you."
"I'll agree with that," replied Faramir, his eyes alert on the elf
and the new bottle. "so… what are you two here for exactly? In fact,
why am I here for that matter?"
Legolas opened the wine and glanced around for fresh glasses. We're
here to work out your little problems," he replied. Faramir raised an
eyebrow.
"What, the Haradrim?"
"I think they might classify as a larger problem, to be honest." Legolas
carefully poured the drink into a glass and passed it to the unenthusiastic
Aragorn. Faramir shrugged.
"Okay. Peeling paint. The fact that the kitchens can never properly
make garlic bread. A squeaky chair. Loose flagstones-" Faramir was happily
offering suggestions in a manner that suggested honest cheekiness.
"Faramir, shush," instructed the elf. The steward looked like he was
in half a mind to protest about such instructions, then glanced towards
Aragorn as the king finally took a swig of the drink. The king paused,
sampling, and looked back at Legolas.
"So what little problem were you talking about that would need candles
and romantic scenery?" he asked softly. Legolas sighed.
"Thankfully I know you're not that dense and therefore I will not despair
of the entire human race. However, for prosperity and general information,
it's to sort out the little problem between you and Faramir." Another
glass was passed to said Steward who was staring at him in shock. Faramir's
eyes slid to Aragorn worriedly.
"Do we have a problem that needs tackling?" he asked cautiously, hand
gripping the glass tighter. Aragorn gave Legolas a look and smiled at
Faramir to soothe him.
"No. I think certain people have been busy jumping to conclusions."
"Hardly a jump. More a step," replied Legolas mildly. "You were saying
you don't have enough time to explore the relationship." He gestured
towards the bed. "Here. Have some time."
Aragorn stared at him. And had to stare at him a little more.
"Explore?" echoed Faramir in disbelief. "Now?"
"Did you have a better time?" Legolas raised an eyebrow. A faint red
flush rose to the young Steward's face again, a desperate look aimed
towards Aragorn who was amusing himself giving Legolas a very hard stare
indeed.
"Legolas, I told you. We're perfectly happy as we are." Aragorn said
flatly. "Aren't we Faramir?"
There was a pause. The steward was looking at him in thought. Aragorn
frowned and glanced back at him in question, whereby Faramir immediately
dropped his gaze to studying the decorated throw underneath him with
extreme dedication.
"Faramir?" Aragorn pressed gently. The Gondorian looked slightly wretched,
and picked at the material with his fingers.
"Well, I suppose… if we're here… and you haven't got anything else
you need to do… we could…" Faramir trailed off. Aragorn stared at him
in honest amazement, the elf forgotten.
"You would like some more attention?" the king's voice was soft. Legolas
opened his mouth to comment, and then closed it again, smiling inwardly
to himself. Ah, Men were so wonderfully simple. It was, in many ways,
glorious. Now if they could only come to conclusions themselves and
who knew where they could lead to?
Faramir, meanwhile, was looking even more uncomfortable than before.
Legolas knew exactly what concerned the young man. The Gondorian was
the lover, the passion that was forever in the sidelines. Demanding
extra time was just not in the rules. And, if memory served correctly,
Gondor especially had a whole lot of rules to consider for social behaviour.
"It's okay. We can … explore if you want," Aragorn smiled at him. Faramir
glanced at him briefly as though to judge the expression that was being
aimed at him.
"I'm sure I could offer a few suggestions," Legolas murmured. The king
glanced at him, amused.
"Are you saying I need teaching?" he queried, lightly. The elf's eyes
flickered towards Faramir then back at the king with a raise of the
eyebrow. Aragorn suddenly worked it out.
"I think that you might need a little refresher course. I doubt whether
everything Elrohir and Elladan taught you would have remained fresh,
do you?" Legolas remarked, deciding to keep the conversation as stress-free
as possible and therefore keeping information of their own past relationship
on the back burners. They eyed each other thoughtfully, only brought
back to the present by Faramir's amused laugh.
"You mean this whole room was your idea of a romantic gesture?" the
steward was looking back at the candles, the cushions, the covers. A
wide grin now graced his face. Legolas raised an eyebrow.
"It's a start, certainly."
"What, no music?" The steward grinned happily. "By the Valar, Legolas,
I never realised elves were so corny!"
"Corny?" echoed Legolas, a look of disapproval crossing his features.
Faramir tried to calm down his giggles, but the solemn expression he
was searching for just wasn't coming. The elf sighed to himself. Even
Aragorn was now struggling with his smile in the face of the genuine
amusement by Faramir.
"This is a serious business," the elf remarked gravely. Humans! Honestly
"You're right, I'm sorry," Faramir lowered his gaze again, trying to
recover himself. His eyes met Aragorn's briefly, both bursting out laughing
after a mere moment. Legolas sighed. Obviously the fine art of lovemaking
might take a few lessons indeed, if nothing else than to stop Faramir
falling out of bed with laughter. He couldn't always rely on Aragorn
managing to catch him.
"Fine," the elf raised his eyes to heaven and moved towards the door.
Faramir pulled himself into a more suitable position.
"Legolas, wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you, it's just that
… well…," he waved a hand around the room. The elf waited, his hand
on the door handle.
"Yes?"
"Well, it's really nice and it's pretty and it's … er… romantically
inspired…," Faramir caught Aragorn's eye again and giggled.
"Good bye," Legolas' hand tightened on the door handle only to be stopped
by Aragorn's call.
"Wait!"
The elf waited patiently, his dark blue eyes falling on Aragorn thoughtfully.
The king patted Faramir on the head and looked at his ex-lover with
a look that spoke of earlier beliefs having a moment of reconsideration.
"Well, if you're willing to stay… " Aragorn shrugged lightly although
his eyes were fixed on the elf. Aragorn's offers were hardly subtle,
although Legolas supposed for humans it might pass.
Legolas was aware of Faramir's curious eyes falling in him, although
obviously he was still struggling with his giggles. However, the young
man had drunk a whole bottle of the special brew and was still able
to control his own limbs. Some leeway had to be given.
The elf allowed his hand to drift from the door handle.
Aragorn smiled at Legolas in relief, and drew Faramir's head round
to properly kiss him. It took a moment for the Steward to readjust to
what was going on, but managed to adapt smoothly, leaning into the kiss
and accepting it more than happily. The king finally released his young
lover and smiled politely towards the elf.
"You had something like that in mind?" Aragorn managed to keep the
grin in check although it certainly flavoured his words.
"Something like that, certainly," Legolas moved slightly closer to
them, his eyes sharp on the fact that Aragorn's hand already rested
on Faramir's thigh as though claiming possession. "But I thought we
might aim for something a little more challenging."
"What, like hanging upside down from the ceiling and kissing?" suggested
Faramir cheerfully and got a light clip round the back of the head.
"Thank you, Aragorn." Legolas sighed. He had forgotten exactly how
difficult it was to instruct men. Their inappropriate sense of humour
often managed to get in the way.
Faramir was grumbling softly, rubbing his head and giving Aragorn a
mixture of the puppy-dog look mixed with sulkiness. Aragorn was completely
unruffled by his Steward's mutterings. However, even Faramir had to
pause as the elf reached them and looked down at them as though studying
perspective in a piece of art, eyes slightly narrowed. The Gondorian
watched him for a few moments in honest bemusement.
"What's he doing?" he hissed towards Aragorn.
"It's normally best not to ask," muttered back Aragorn.
"Well?" Legolas was obviously getting a little impatient himself. "Were
you not planning to do anything further, Elessar?"
Aragorn bit back a retort and pulled Faramir slightly closer to himself,
enjoying the young man's heat and the delicious twitch in his groin
as the Gondorian wriggled against him to get comfortable. He bent his
head towards the smooth creamy skin of Faramir's throat which had been
offered to him as the young man rested his head back against Aragorn's
shoulder, his king beginning to kiss and nibble along Faramir's neck.
Faramir's hand had already found Aragorn's leg and was rubbing it in
enthusiasm, as though this might speed the king up. Aragorn's hands
had crept to Faramir's chest, pulling him closer as he continued to
harass Faramir's skin gently with his lips.
"Faramir," murmured Legolas. "move your hips slightly. Circle them,
almost,"
The Gondorian looked at him through his lashes and obeyed. There was
a gasp from Aragorn, whose lover was almost sitting in his lap as it
was. The movement was a little too close for comfort, especially if
Legolas wanted them to last the distance.
The elf was aware of the young Gondorian watching him eagerly after
a while, awaiting further instructions. Legolas looked perplexed for
a moment, then smiled to himself. Obviously Faramir was much happier
doing more 'interesting' explorations whilst under orders, thereby allowing
him the opportunity to claim it was down to someone else. It made sense
in a strange Gondorian way, although knowing what Denethor was like
also assisted this dramatically. The elf smiled again and met Aragorn's
gaze, who was also watching him but with a healthy dose of suspicion.
"Faramir," purred the elf. "Move forwards slightly and strip off your
clothes. Carefully and slowly."
Faramir obeyed. Legolas wished he had added 'neatly' to his little
list, but you couldn't have everything. The king's attention was also
now torn between gazing at his lover and continuing with his dubious
expression. Faramir won.
"No touching, Aragorn," Legolas' voice raised slightly higher as the
king leant forward. "Faramir. Here."
The steward gave his king a look as though checking he was likely to
still be there when he returned, before sliding off the bed and taking
the shaky step towards Legolas. The elf smiled at Aragorn again, and
murmured something low in the Steward's ear. Aragorn's eyes narrowed
a little further. The elf finished his instruction, and smiled again
even sweeter at the suspicious ranger on the bed.
"Calm down, Aragorn. It's only a lesson."
"A lesson in what, exactly?" Aragorn paused as Faramir glanced back
at him with a particular expression in his eyes. Aragorn knew that look.
It was the calculating one that Faramir often had when studying how
to do something he had been told by everyone couldn't be done. It was
the one that he was wearing when he lead the Ithilien rangers into a
head on battle with the Haradrim last week. It was the one he used whenever
he managed to get a councilor to agree to something that the counselor
had a particular aversion to. The king raised an eyebrow and simply
waited for whatever action was going to happen, resigning himself to
the inevitable.
He didn't have long to wait either. Faramir was swiftly back on the
bed, kneeling in front of him, his hands already unfastening the king's
breeches, Aragorn's tunic having been carefully moved to the side to
allow him to work. The king was about to offer assistance when Faramir's
warm and wet mouth was on him already in a completely uncharacteristic
manner. The words battled with the gasp to come out.
"I thought we were supposed to be going slow?" Aragorn gasped finally.
Legolas made a tutting noise.
"For the basics? I think not, my young friend."
"Basics?!" Aragorn tried to look round at him but the elf had moved
again and Faramir had stepped up the attack. His hands were also attempting
to slide Aragorn's breeches from his body. The king lifted his hips
helpfully whilst his mind was still focused, and groaned a little harder
as Faramir licked and sucked him as though he was the tastiest lollypop
in Gondor.
"You want me to do anything else," groaned Aragorn after another few
minutes of this torment. "you'd better stop here."
Faramir continued for a few more moments before stopping as suddenly
as he started, sitting back on his haunches and licking his lips slightly.
Aragorn waited for his heart to calm down a few more beats, before managing
to get his vocal chords to work. He could see Faramir's eyes on him
hungrily, an orphan who hadn't eaten for a week and who had spied the
tastiest of meals.
The king pulled his tunic off himself, dumping it in the pile that
Faramir had already started. He nodded once towards the young steward,
giving him a knowing smile, before pouncing and knocking Faramir over
backwards. He had to roll them both back a little further onto the bed,
however, before they both ended up in a pile on the floor.
Aragorn was faintly surprised to realize that Faramir was fighting
for dominance almost as much as he was himself, although the younger
man's inexperience shone through on occasion. However, Faramir had two
things in his favour; one was his incredibly flexibility that came with
fitness and sheer youth. The other was blonde, elven and was pulling
Aragorn off him.
"I'm sure that's cheating," protested Aragorn. Legolas looked surprised.
"And that matters?"
"It matters to me!"
Legolas silenced him with a long kiss. The entire fight left Aragorn's
body, although whether that was from surprise or enthusiasm the elf
wasn't entirely sure. Not that it really mattered, however. Legolas
pulled back slightly and looked down at the king who was staring back
at him with a wide-eyed expression normally found on Faramir. The steward
himself, however, had a cocky grin on his face at his king's sudden
need to acquiesce to the situation.
The elf looked across at the younger human sternly.
"I'm not doing all the work for you, Faramir," Despite Legolas' words
his eyes were mild.
Faramir put on his best 'useful' expression and nodded. Legolas studied
him for a moment thoughtfully. The 'useful' expression suddenly obtain
a more nervous hint to it, especially as the elf leant down and whispered
something in Aragorn's ear.
The steward suddenly found himself pulled into an elven kiss himself,
his weight having to shift to avoid himself falling over immediately.
There was the briefest look of panic in the young man's eyes, no doubt
considering all the factors of adultery against the king, before this
too managed to drift from his mind as Legolas gently explored his mouth
with his tongue, taking the kiss even deeper. The elf could feel the
young human almost collapse in his arms, despite his amusement towards
'corny' romance. Obviously there was a definite 'corny' potential within
Denethor's bloodline, which was quite entertaining in itself.
Faramir's engrossment in the kiss had managed to completely ruin his
concentration. At Aragorn's hand on his steward's backside, Legolas
had to grab hold of Faramir hard to avoid him jumping. The grip had
to seriously increase when Aragorn obeyed orders and started to-
"Ahhh!!!!"
"Relax, Faramir," Legolas soothed briefly into his ear before kissing
him again. The Steward of Gondor, fearless in the face of danger, intrepid
in the wilderness, valiant against countless foes, was suddenly reduced
to a pile of trembling nerves as a tongue was introduced to his most
sensitive areas. Legolas wondered mildly about bruises. If Aragorn was
having to hold on as tightly as he was himself, Faramir had a grave
risk of looking like he had been attacked with several clubs.
"But-!" whimpered the young man, still squirming. Legolas smiled to
himself. Obviously this part was one of the techniques that Aragorn
never got around to doing with the young steward.
"He's very good at that, isn't he?" the elf breathed into the young
human's ear. "Don't worry, Faramir. Aragorn enjoys it."
The incredulous look flashed across Faramir's eyes. "But he's sticking
his tongue up my-"
Aragorn stuck it a little higher. Faramir reacted as though electrocuted,
his back arching, mouth open in what was almost a silent scream. His
breath was so fast Legolas had a brief worry that the young man was
going to pass out from lack of oxygen. He whimpered lightly again as
Aragorn bent him over to a greater degree, allowing the king to spread
him even more blatantly. The hot wet warmth was soon lapping against
him again, Faramir trembling so much it felt as though he was naked
in a snow-storm.
At Legolas's touch on his erection, Faramir almost jumped again. The
pleading look returned to the Steward's eyes, although the appeal was
never voiced. It was like looking at a puppy who was desperate for a
snack.
After a while, it was obvious Faramir didn't know who to lean against,
being attacked at both ends. Legolas met Aragorn's gaze over Faramir's
shoulder and nodded briefly. Aragorn grinned, and simply moved back
after patting his steward's raised backside gently as though a horse's
flank.
"What-?" The ability to finish a sentence was seriously not working
in Faramir. He glanced back towards the king in shock, having expected
the feel of Aragorn pushing into him any second. An absence of anything
at the rear was somewhat disconcerting.
Equally Legolas soon moved his hand away, leaving a most unsatisfied
Steward. Faramir was obviously having difficulties holding his tongue,
although the desperate look soon faded to curiousity as Aragorn settled
himself against the headboard, having thrown most of the cushions onto
the floor in a rain of soft brightly coloured objects. The elf took
hold of Faramir's unresisting hand and gave a little pull. Faramir followed
obediently, although the dazed look in his eyes stated how much of this
was automatic.
Aragorn had taken the opportunity to anoint himself with oil, pulling
Faramir to straddle his hips. Faramir looked at him doubtfully, not
used to having Aragorn face to face with him in such situations. The
king smiled at him gently and placed his hands on the younger man's
hips, guiding him. Faramir bit his lip in concentration as he felt the
tip of Aragorn against his entrance, seizing hold of his bravery and
pushing down against the king.
The steward fought to keep his eyes open, not least because he could
at least see the look of pleasure that appeared on his king's face as
Aragorn entered him. Faramir managed to keep his own look of discomfort
off his face as he slid down, although he took the opportunity to regain
his breath and poise once fully sheathed. Aragorn was managing to rub
against places that really didn't normally get rubbed, and that was
an experience indeed.
Faramir attempted to move a little more but his king's hands were on
his hips, holding him fast. Aragorn gently guided the younger man into
a gentle rocking movement, so different from the usual hard-feel-it-in-the-kidneys
thrusts that were normally all they had time for between meetings and
duties. Faramir wasn't entirely sure which one he preferred; he could
see the look of desire and caring on his lover's face which normally
had to be imagined, if that. However, he was sure the gentle torment
was more likely to kill him than any powerful thrust Aragorn had in
him. Not that he wanted to try, of course.
He shut his eyes and moaned gently as Aragorn's length started to play
some fantastic sensations inside his body. At Aragorn's hand on his
erection, Faramir had a distinct desire to move faster, to get his satisfaction
as soon as possible. Lazy passionate sessions seemed to be more geared
for the elf market.
Aragorn felt his steward's eagerness, felt him move harder and more
persistently against him, and had to resist the urge to simply pull
out, shove Faramir over and thrust into him. However, apparently trying
to kebab your lover wasn't deemed romantic. Faramir was making the little
whimpering noises he normally made to hurry the king along, knowing
each little moan went straight on to throb in Aragorn's groin. Aragorn
had to seek out his willpower yet again.
"Please?" Faramir leant forward, his hands around Aragorn's shoulders,
his mouth near his ear. His plea was almost a murmur, but it was certainly
heartfelt. Aragorn glanced towards Legolas briefly before finally allowing
himself to slide out. He pushed the young Steward onto his back, and
pushed up his legs, thrusting into him as quickly as he was able. Faramir
cried out, his head tilting backwards, as Aragorn continued to work,
a look of intense concentration crossing his king's face as he thrust
into the willing young man.
Legolas sighed briefly to himself. Men's idea of romance were so much
more … brutal.
On the plus side, it was clear that both parties were enjoying themselves.
Faramir moaned loudly again, meeting Aragorn's thrusts as hard as he
could. Aragorn growled something back, almost primitively. Legolas watched
without a word but certainly with a slight smile as the king found his
release within a minute or so, thrusting hard within Faramir to the
extent that the elf was faintly impressed the younger man wasn't pushed
off the bed. Aragorn managed to stifle his own cry to a muffled noise,
shuddering into his steward before withdrawing, his movements showing
a distinct lack of energy.
Faramir didn't look any better. The steward appeared as though he had
just walked the perimeter of Gondor in a matter of hours. Sweat gleamed
on his body, his chest working overtime with the heavy breaths his body
was demanding. He smiled towards Aragorn, who grinned back and leaned
over to kiss him fondly on the forehead before moving his hand to touch
Faramir's obviously aching erection.
"Wait a moment," Legolas stepped forward. Aragorn looked up, surprised.
The look on Faramir's face was not quite as polite.
"Legolas?" There was an edge of desperation and annoyance in Faramir's
voice. Aragorn gently stroked his hand over Faramir's weeping erection
before moving away. Legolas had a sneaking suspicion the Steward was
going to kill someone by the look that crossed his face.
"It's okay, little one," Legolas soothed, moving towards the bed.
"No, I'm pretty damn certain it's not okay," grumbled Faramir, eying
the elf as he moved himself to a position sitting behind the Steward's
head, his hands lightly touching Faramir's wrists as though in point
to what would happen should Faramir be foolish enough to try and touch
himself. Legolas raised his eyes to meet Aragorn's. The king's eyes
darkened, just for a moment, and nodded.
"Faramir," Legolas said softly. "I want you to take him."
Faramir stared up at him, incredulously. "What?"
"I want you to take Aragorn." There was the faintest of smiles on Legolas'
face. "You won't hurt him."
The incredulous look had turned into one of horror, as though Legolas
had suggested that Faramir engage relations with a horse in the stable.
"I can't do that!" he protested.
"Why not?" Legolas hadn't expected such a firm response. A little bit
of a flush, possibly. Probably even eyes cast downwards shyly. However,
Faramir was almost aggressive in his refusal.
"He's my king, that's why not!"
"Is there a rule against it?" Legolas raised an eyebrow. Faramir gave
a short laugh.
"This is Minas Tirith. Of course there's a rule against it! Did you
not see the size of the library?!" In his concentration, Faramir
had not noticed Aragorn moving closer to him until the king's palm was
resting on his Steward's chest. Suddenly the concentration had a new
target.
"And what if I ordered you to do it?" the king asked softly. There
was the briefest of struggles within the young man's eyes.
"You could," he sighed finally. "but I would ask of you not to, sire.
Please, I can't!"
Aragorn met the elf's eyes, and shrugged lightly. Legolas considered
it.
"And what if I were to do it instead? Is that against the rules?" he
queried, fascinated despite the situation. Faramir paused, a confused
look in his eyes as he tried to remember.
"I don't think so. You're a guest of the realm. It'll probably be called
diplomatic relations,"
"Diplomatic relations?" There was a funny look crossing Legolas' eyes.
Aragorn looked at him in query. The elf shook his head, smiling at him,
and suddenly Aragorn had a lot more things to consider than what that
little thing was about.
Faramir was about to get up as Legolas' hands left his wrists but Aragorn
was already leaning over him, his breath suddenly on Faramir's still
screaming erection. The younger man gasped and bit his lip, unable to
comment on this new turn up for the books as the king took him into
his mouth without allowing Faramir any decision in the matter at all.
Aragorn swirled his tongue over the head of Faramir's cock, tasting
the saltiness, before taking him deeply. Faramir's desire to escape
suddenly evaporated.
The steward could feel at the exact point where Legolas' fingers slid
into the king as Aragorn suddenly stopped, readjusting to the feeling.
However, this feeling was obviously easy to get over as the king began
again, sucking and licking. A few moments later, Faramir was slightly
horrified to notice that Legolas had already lined himself up and was
pushing into him. Aragorn's eyes shut briefly at the invasion, his tongue
gently flickering over the tip of Faramir's cock in a manner that made
the steward tremble.
The king was obviously extremely multi-talented. Having adjusted incredibly
quickly to the feeling of the elf inside him, Aragorn stepped up the
attack on every sensitive spot Faramir possessed, causing Faramir to
be once again thrust back into his own private world. The younger man
jumped as he felt the king's hand massage between his legs even as Aragorn
sucked and played, causing another moan-whimper fall from Faramir's
lips as the younger man struggled to keep control of himself.
This proved to be more of a task than he was able to achieve; his body
already teased to a great extent, his muscles tense and ready, his groin
a fire-ball of need even before Aragorn's thumb had started its explorations,
Faramir almost howled in his release when it came and collapsed, panting,
on the bed. He looked at Aragorn through half closed lids as the king
carefully licked up every drop and grinned at Faramir. The grin suddenly
had a strained look as the elf thrust hard within him, having waited
until Aragorn was completely off of Faramir before beginning in earnest.
After all, the Steward was unlikely to find teeth marks on his cock
a turn on, although you never could tell with the quiet ones.
Faramir watched, fascinated despite the little voice in the back of
his mind telling him that Kings really really shouldn't be in that sort
of position unless there was a serious problem with the foreign policy.
Aragorn had moved himself onto hands and knees, his head now bowed as
though in deep thought or submission. Faramir could see the trembling
through the older man's shoulders and arms, the shudder each time Legolas
thrust into him. The elf seemed completely under control, if anything
his face a mild look of concentration. Faramir felt himself throb again
at Aragorn's guttural groan as Legolas slammed into him and obviously
hit a damn good spot to hit. This was done again and again until Faramir
could see the sweat gleaming on his lover's back and arms, every pant
Aragorn made being a moan that was becoming more and more desperate.
Faramir slid himself down slightly and reached to touch his king. Aragorn's
response to Faramir's hand on his erection was electric; the moan suddenly
increased in intensity, Aragorn opening his eyes to stare at his Steward
who gave him a friendly grin. Aragorn managed to laugh to himself before
Legolas completely ruined this plan and got the angle exactly right
again, freezing any ability that Aragorn might have to consider factors
on the outside world.
After this, it was only a matter of time. Attacked on two fronts, Aragorn
had no chance whatsoever, and he admitted defeat, allowing himself to
drift along on the sensations that Legolas and Faramir were producing
in him. His Steward's talented hands were making quick work of his erection,
which was complemented by the hard possessive way that the elf took
him. Aragorn's breath hitched; he gave a soft whimper, dropping his
head again as his entire body seemed to empty, shuddering with the force
of his orgasm. His arms and legs struggled to hold him upright.
The strong clenching of Aragorn's muscles managed to work their skill
on Legolas; the elf's hands tightened on Aragorn's hips briefly before
shooting into him, although not a murmur came from the elf in response.
A light gasp was all he allowed himself as he withdrew.
Having been freed of Legolas, Aragorn took the opportunity to flop
to one side of Faramir, his arm lying directly across the steward's
chest, his breathing heavy and loud despite Aragorn being almost face
down. Faramir snuggled closer to him, feeling the tremendous heat of
the man's body against him.
"The pair of you are trying to kill me aren't you," came the muffled
voice of the king. Faramir kissed his shoulder.
"Perhaps that's the reason why there's the rules," he suggested. "Death
by fucking probably wouldn't go down well."
"Certainly a good way to go if it happens," replied Legolas calmly.
"However, stop trying to die, Aragorn. It doesn't suit you."
Aragorn managed to obtain enough energy to push himself onto his back,
and briefly paused to kiss Faramir on the forehead. Faramir smiled back
at him fondly.
Legolas watched them momentarily and grinned to himself. Men were so
adorable, in a messy type of way.
"Right, so that's the basics," he said, finally bringing himself back
to the present. "Now, what I suggest we do is…,"
He trailed off at the two sets of incredulous and slightly panicked
eyes. Faramir swallowed, and edged closer to Aragorn.
"You mean there's more?"
Legolas shrugged. "When you've been around as long as I have, you get
to pick up a lot of techniques. You should hear some of the tales my
father has. I had always wondered how he had the time." The elf shook
his head. "Diplomatic relations indeed," he sighed to himself.
The two humans were still watching him with varying degrees of wariness.
The elf raised an eyebrow.
"I assume those looks mean that you want a rest?" he queried. Faramir's
eyes still had a particularly nervous expression on them. Aragorn's
were not much better, although his nervousness was definitely more leaning
towards the wary.
"Okay, so in ten minutes…," the elf watched the expressions and sighed.
"An hour?" There was another pause. "By the Valar, I thought youth was
supposed to be able to readjust very swiftly!"
"I hardly consider myself as being a youth," protested Aragorn sulkily.
The actual youth of the group kept his mouth shut. Legolas rolled his
eyes and sighed.
"However…," Aragorn continued. The elf looked interested and ignored
the fact that the young Steward looked like a rabbit caught in a wolf's
gaze. The king grinned at the elf.
"Unless you're busy, Legolas, we could continue lessons this time next
week?"
The elf considered this. "I believe that might be agreeable," he confirmed
warmly. There was a little sigh of relief from Faramir, who simply snuggled
closer to Aragorn and shut his eyes.
Regular 'lessons' sounded as though it was likely to be entertaining
indeed. Now all they needed were homework assignments…
END
