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PART ONE.
A Tradition and a Misunderstanding.
"Enter," said the King in a regal voice. He was
sitting on one of the beautifully carved armchairs situated on either
side of the great glass doors that opened into the balcony of his room.
The balcony had a wonderful view of the White City and the grand glass
doors let Ithil's light bathe the chambers in nights such as this. The
King's chambers were spacious and not so luxuriously furnished as one
would think; the room contained a four poster bed, the carving on which
matched that of the armchairs. A chimney was situated in the wall facing
the bed and in front of it lay piles of furs surely used when sitting
by the fire in cold winter nights. It seemed Ranger habits were hard
to break for the King was the one who had ordered the furs to be placed
there. One wall was occupied with a bookcase full of Numenorean history
and Gondor lore and beside it there was a door that led into the King's
bathrooms and wardrobes.
A bare footed young man walked into the chamber. He looked
at everything but the King, his nervousness very apparent. The King
had to admit the man was a beauty on his own. His skin was creamy white
and his figure slim with a gracefulness that reminded him of that of
the Elves -he had that serene demeanour about him. His hair was a strange
mixture of blond, light brown and auburn and the King knew it was silky
to the touch. He was dressed in the ceremonial robes used for this occasion.
A white ankle length loincloth beneath deep blue robes that were tied
with a belt the same material as the thin silver wristbands encasing
his wrists. The Belt and wristbands were made of the finest mithril
weave. It was an attire that enhanced the beauty of its owner. The man
kept walking until he was in front of the King and tried his best not
to show his unsettled state.
"Here I am, my King. For you to make the claim."
The man proceeded to kneel in front of the King, bowing his head and
his sight always trained on the floor. "I vow to serve you until
the day I die, protect you with my own life and I offer myself to seal
my allegiance."
"Do you come of free will and agree to be subjected
to the trial of the Ritual?" The King asked following the lines
of the Ritual to the letter.
"I come willingly. I was not coerced to fulfil my duty.
I submit to this trial," answered the young man.
"I accept your offer," stated the King.
These words signaled that the final part of the Ritual begin.
ONE WEEK BEFORE.
"WHAT? This is insane! What kind of tradition is that?"
Aragorn got up almost knocking over his chair. He could not believe
his ears. The advisor had to be wrong.
"My King this tradition follows from the days of Numenor.
It ensures the complete loyalty of the Steward...," said the advisor
from where he stood by one of the windows in the Council Room. Right
now, it was comforting to be as away from the upset King as possible.
"It's the wrong way to ensure allegiance," said
Aragorn, interrupting him. "Valar! It is way beyond madness! Loyalty
is not bought or bound. Loyalty is earned by one's acts, it is freely
given. Anyway, why it must be in such a way? As King I will revoke this
mad tradition." Aragorn began to walk restlessly around the room.
"My King, it is not wise to do so. People know of this
tradition, though they do not know about the nature of the test itself,
and carrying the Ritual to its end will assure them that the Steward
of the Realm will be a loyal one, prepared to replace the King himself
if it were necessary," said the advisor in earnest.
Aragorn rolled his eyes at what he thought pure lunacy. "But
Galen. Are you hearing what you are saying? How could this ensure loyalty?
From my point of view, this would prove just the opposite. How can be
trusted one who is so ready to do this deed?" Aragorn was getting
desperate at this point. Why was he discussing this matter still? He
thought.
"My King you must understand that, of course, the act
in itself is not enough. Just as the hands of the King can heal only
the King will be able to verify the transparency of the Steward."
The advisor was one step away from losing his patience and starting
to pull at his own hair.
"What do you mean?" The voice of the King faltered
with doubt and the advisor saw his opportunity.
"Just as your healing hands are proof of your legitimacy
as King, in the same way only the King can prove the veracity of the
Steward. It is an act bound by power from ancient ways from a time lost
in the ages. As far as we are concerned, the Ritual was created to protect
the King, though we do not know what happened to compel the men of that
age to do something that radical. We only know that there were once
a King and a Steward bound to do this Ritual in order to ensure that
from then on each one of their descendants would do the same."
The advisor looked at the King's face and felt confident for the first
time since this conversation started that the King would go through
with this.
"And what of the King's feelings? Does not that count
at all? What will happen if the King refuses? What will happen if the
King does not want to do this under any circumstances? What of the Steward?
For he is more affected by this." Deep inside he knew that Galen's
reasoning would crush every argument of his.
"The King's refusal would prove the Steward an Impostor
and a traitor of the Realm. Treason is punished by death...and I'm afraid
it would involve too many laws to revoke," the advisor added stopping
Aragorn with a gesture of his hand when he saw that he intended to rebut
this new bit of information. "Besides, there is the fact that the
Ritual will kill the Traitor with a painful death. The death sentence
is a relief in itself."
"How? But...are you saying to me that if the Steward
is proven unfit this...Ritual will kill him? That is preposterous! What
if the Ritual deems a good man unfit and kills him? I am confused here.
How is this decided? By the King or by the Ritual?"
"Sire, the King decides, his judgement aided by the
Ritual, which it is impossible to deceive for it tests the Steward's
soul. Another factor to take into account is the people of the Council
and those who occupy high ranks in the realm and who expect tradition
to be followed. Even more now that the King has returned. Sudden and
unexpected changes would prove dangerous for the stability of the Realm
at this moment."
Aragorn felt cornered now. He had Arwen to consider as well.
What would she think of this? As a ruler he had to put his Realm first
and above himself. That was a King's Fate. Right now, he wished he could
be a mere man. He suddenly felt so tired; days of endless battle had
not caught up with him as much as this news had.
"Does Faramir know of this?" His voice sounded
somewhat defeated.
"Yes my King, he knows his duty. As his father before
him."
"Valar, Galen! That was an image you could avoid to
put in my already shocked mind," said Aragorn imagining his father
and his Steward in this situation. He sat at the Council table once
more and pondered over the situation, not saying anything for a few
minutes. In the end, he made a decision, "I will postpone the crowning
ceremony."
"But my King...all is ready for the ceremony to take
place within three days and... "
"I will not change my mind about this! And that is it.
Faramir is still in the halls of healing and in no condition to attend
this Ritual so soon. He is still recovering from his wounds and I will
not have him relapse. Don’t you have any consideration for one
who has already given much for this realm? If I do this it will be under
my conditions or I will throw caution to the winds. I will not harm
Faramir, tradition or not," Aragorn gave his advisor one of his
most regal scowls. One that would be the envy of his foster father,
the Lord of Imladris.
"Very well. I will arrange all to take place within
a week with consideration for Faramir's recovery. You are right, my
King, you must forgive us. We were haste not to think about such an
important matter. And... you must consider something else," said
the advisor walking from his position at the window to the table where
the King was sitting at. "The Steward is not allowed to lay with
a man before the Ritual, not even the King himself. The power at work
guarantees this is so. A fault would lead to fatal consequences deeming
the Steward unfit."
Aragorn’s eyes widened in shock. This was another factor
to add to his list of wrongs in this mess. This implied Faramir was
untouched by men if the young one was truthful to this tradition. This
complicated things even more, indeed. "I will talk with Faramir,"
he said.
"My King, there is anoth..."
"Galen," said Aragorn stopping his advisor from
relating more of what he considered pure madness. "I will talk
with Faramir before I make any decision. You may leave."
"But Sire this..."
"You may leave now Galen, we will talk later. First
I will learn what Faramir thinks about all this and then I will talk
with you."
"Very well my King. I have much work to do," said
the advisor and headed to his office. On the way, Galen could not help
but think about what he had tried to say and the King had not let him,
arguing that he wanted to talk to Faramir first. He now reprimanded
himself for not mentioning this in the first place; it would end all
the King's objections. The King had to perform the Ritual no matter
what, if not the Steward would die. Well, the King would learn about
this when he would talk with Faramir and besides, the King had to learn
about the Ritual before attending it, he would have to read the Book.
Aragorn was relieved when Galen left him alone. His thoughts
wandered and they werng Faramir.
"What do you think about this?" Aragorn was sitting
on his bed, elbows on his knees and a concerned look on his face.
Arwen got up from where she sat at the window and walked
to Aragorn's side, standing in front of him and putting a hand on his
head, petting the dark hair in a soothing gesture. "Don't worry
my love, all will be well. As you told me, you could do no less. Your
decision was the right one. Don't fret about this matter."
"But...what if..." started to say Aragorn.
Arwen smiled anticipating what her husband meant to say.
"What if you start to feel something for him? Or... do you feel
for him already?" her smile grew sweeter on her lips.
"I do not know...I am confused," he said looking
into her beautiful eyes. "I felt something I could not explain
when I drew him back from death but never thought of him in that way.
Now, confronted with what I would have to do, I do not know what I feel
for him anymore. I am confused and I would be unfaithful if..."
"It should not be so for you. It will not be so for
me. I am sure of our love. The heart of Man is not as the heart of Elves.
Man's life is so short, you love with passion, and you take love in
every way it presents itself. And it is good. Though I am of Elven heritage,
I am now mortal as well. I understand this as well as I understands
what being a ruler entails. A King's Realm always comes first."
Aragorn buried his face in Arwen’s robes, "You
are understanding and wise my Queen. Your words soothe me." He
closed his eyes relishing in the closeness with his dearest friend beloved.
Two days had passed since Aragorn had found out about the
Ritual, two days of meetings, paperwork and bureaucracy. He had wanted
to speak to Faramir since then but something would always come in the
way. If it was not the Council then it was the constant stream of guests
arriving for the crowning. Now, he was heading for the houses of healing
at last. The bright side of all this was that Faramir would be much
better at this point.
He entered the houses of healing and was greeted by Varan,
the warden healer.
"My King," saluted the healer, bowing respectfully,
"what can I do for you?"
Aragorn nodded in return. "I want to know about the
Steward's health. How is he?" Asked Aragorn.
"He is fine already. He will be in his rooms today;
we wanted to be sure he would not relapse. He has recovered well though
he must not strain his shoulder too much. Does the King wish to him?"
Asked the healer.
"I will see him now. Please, see that no one disturbs
us while we talk," said Aragorn taking his leave to face Faramir.
He had not seen the young man since he pulled him out of death, one
obligation after another stopping him from this encounter. At that time
he was surprised when Faramir recognized him unexpectedly, now he wondered
about the fact that maybe the King and the Steward were connected somehow,
even before this Ritual.
He walked silently until he reached Faramir's quarters in
the houses of healing. He entered the room and noticed that Faramir
was sleeping. He sat in the chair beside the bed and watched Faramir
in his slumber. He believed Faramir was a man of brave and gentle spirit.
Now, due to this Ritual, he started to see Faramir under another shade
of light though he did not want to do it. He knew Faramir had a troubled
mind. He knew for he was able to touch Faramir's spirit when he drew
him back from death. Faramir had suffered much, he could tell that from
the long conversations with Boromir during their quest. Boromir had
been always protective of his brother and he had worried about the fact
that Faramir would receive all the weight of their father's attention
during his absence. The brothers had a strong bond and he could only
guess how Faramir might have felt when he learned about his brother's
death.
Yes, Faramir had suffered much. He possessed a deep sadness
and who knows what kind of trauma would have been left by the fact that
his own father tried to murder him, burning him alive while vulnerable,
while he should have been protected all the more.
However, he had to admit to himself this vulnerability brought
out all the protectiveness in him. Faramir was very handsome and his
own reluctance of the Ritual did not rest in the fact of Faramir being
a man for he had lain with other men in the past. His reluctance lay
in the fact that he loved Arwen and didn't want to hurt her in any way,
he was not free to give himself to another or to take another and besides,
he didn't know what Faramir thought about all this either. For all he
knew Faramir could be terrified of doing this Ritual. And the last thing
he wanted to do was force himself on this man. He had endured enough
already.
His reverie was interrupted because at that moment Faramir
opened his eyes. He laid in such a way that he was facing the King,
so when he woke up he did it directly to the King's eyes. Faramir was
surprised and started to rise himself into a sitting position.
"My King! I did not know you would come. I..."
"Faramir, calm yourself and lie still. You are not full
recovered yet. You have to rest," said Aragorn rising from his
chair to stop Faramir from straining his healing wounds. He used his
most compassionate voice in order to not intimidate Faramir. He wanted
the young man to trust him in lieu of what the future might lay ahead
of them.
"Thank you, Your Majesty, for being so kind but I'm
tired of this bed and the healers fussing over me. I'm quite well, I
feel only a mild discomfort," said the young man with a smile.
Faramir was nervous for he had not seen him since the King had saved
him from death. Now the King was staring right at him, kindness showing
on his face. He was aware the Crowning Ceremony would be the next day
and that he would have to go through the Ritual. The mere thought made
his face turn a deep shade of red. Was it because of this that the King
was here? His heart started to beat faster and as quickly as his face
was red just as suddenly it turned very pale. His mouth went dry and
a little tremor ran down his spine.
Aragorn noticed all the emotions that went through Faramir's
face. This man was as an open book to him. He worried at Faramir's reaction
because it said to him that the young man was not comfortable in his
presence. If Faramir reacted this way now, he did not want to think
about how it would be in the accursed night of the Ritual. He finally
decided on clearing things up.
"Are you uncomfortable in my presence, Faramir? Please,
tell me the truth," said the King trying to reassure the other
man that talking with him would be fine.
"NO!" Said Faramir in a rush and starting once
more to rise from the bed, this time succeeding and getting into a sitting
position, before the King could stop him.
"Lie still Faramir. Do not see me as your King right
now, see me instead as your friend," said Aragorn laying a comforting
hand on Faramir’s shoulder. The young man was watching him with
something akin to apprehension. He would broach the issue right now.
He just hoped Faramir did not jump to the roof. "Faramir, I came
here not only to see how your health was. I came to talk about you,
submitting to the Ritual."
Faramir's eyes shut tight at these words. He knew it would
come to this. He was too weak to be the Steward of the Realm. The Crowning
Ceremony was the next day and he had not been able to perform his duties
for he was still confined to his bed. He felt useless and now the King
would tell him he was unfit to be his second in command. The King was
surely able to sense his nervousness about the Ritual as well as to
see how weak he was. Reason had his father to try and get rid of him
before he dishonoured the Line of Stewards with his weakness. Faramir
opened his eyes again and did not realize they had glazed over with
unshed emotion.
Aragorn saw Faramir's reaction at the mention of the Ritual
and thought he had been right all along. Faramir did not want the Ritual
to be performed and tradition or no he would not do anything to harm
Faramir in any way. He would reassure the young man he was not to be
obliged into the Ritual, that he wouldn't need to worry for anything
for he would revoke this madness. Aragorn did not get to speak his reassurance
for Faramir spoke first.
"Forgive me for not being worthy, Sire," he said,
reining in his emotions but nonetheless, staring at Aragorn with a gaze
full of shame and despair.
"What?" Aragorn did not understand. He took Faramir
by his shoulders. "Faramir, look at me. Look at me, please,"
he repeated when Faramir's face turned away from his eyes.
Faramir obeyed his King and looked at him as if waiting for
judgement to fall.
"What do you think you are not worthy of? What should
I forgive you for? I do not understand," said Aragorn.
"You will not have me as your Steward because I'm weak.
I am not worthy of ..."
"Stop this nonsense!" said Aragorn caught him off
before he finished and Faramir shut his eyes tight. "Look at me,"
said Aragorn in his most regal voice. Faramir could not do less than
obey at once. "You are a brave man, Faramir. You are a beautiful
human being, compassionate, worthy of respect and you are a great warrior."
"But..." Faramir started to protest before the
King caught him off again.
"No buts...I don't want to hear you saying something
of the like again. I know you might think you are worthless or lacking
in skills but I know better. Whatever your father said to you it is
not so. I did not come here to shun you. I came to talk about the Ritual
and before you say something else hear me out first." Aragorn had
left his hold of Faramir's shoulders and was now petting the other man’s
head, keeping away some rebel strands that fell into the young man's
face. He suddenly realized what he was doing and somewhat embarrassed
let go of Faramir and went to sit again on the chair beside the young
man's bed. "Please, make yourself comfortable. You need to rest,
my friend." Faramir meekly obeyed, resting on the bed again in
a fashion that faced the King.
"I do not understand..."
"Faramir, hear me out and don't interrupt me."
Faramir shut his mouth at once, looking expectantly at the King. "I
can't say I favor the Ritual. I think is madness and it is unfair to
the Steward to keep this tradition." Faramir's face was a mix of
misery and expectant curiosity. "I want to make it clear that my
reluctance has nothing to do with you but with the nature of the Ritual
itself. I am new to this, I do not know anything but what The Council
told me. I wanted to speak to you to give you the opportunity to have
some say in this matter and to assure you that I will support any decision
you take. I do not want you unwilling for I care deeply for you and
do not want to lose any chance of a future friendship."
Faramir was stunned. Shocked was too light a word to describe
his feelings right now. The King wanted to have ''his'' permission to
perform the Ritual? This was unheard of, besides, they had no choice
now, and it had to be performed. But again, his King was raised under
Elven standards. He felt as though a great burden had been lifted from
his shoulders. He was not being rejected as he thought in the first
place. His King stated he thought him worthy and considered him a great
warrior. Though he still had his doubts, he would ensure from now on
to be truthful to his King's words.
"I will do what it is my duty. I'm yours to command."
Said Faramir with a little nod of his head.
"No, Faramir. That would not do. You must understand
I am not as you would expect of a King born in Gondor and taught in
Gondor. I do not believe in rules that go against what is natural in
one's being. I will not order something, to any person in the Realm,
that I would not do myself. Therefore, my command would not do in this
matter that I consider a grave attempt against someone's well being
and free will. Therefore, I am asking you to answer me with the truth.
What do you think of the Ritual? Would you willingly do this?"
Finished Aragorn waiting expectantly for the other man's reply.
Faramir stared at his King for some moments and could not
help but feel proud. In front of him was a King worthy of giving one's
life for. He was kind, compassionate and fearless in his beliefs. And
''he'' had the honor to serve this King. Nevertheless, he was a little
confused by the King's insistence about ''his'' willingness in this
matter, for they had no choice. Did not the King know that?
"I'm proud to be under your command. I would give everything
for Gondor and my King. Rest assured I would go willingly into this
for I was taught it was the utmost honor to be proved worthy of the
Stewards’ Line by the King himself. Before I became the Steward
I knew what, someday, would be required of me, so that it was my choice,"
finished Faramir.
"Tell me what you know about the Ritual," asked
Aragorn.
Faramir complied with a nod. "The Ritual forms a bond
between King and Steward where they can communicate at a mental level
to ensure the upper hand in battle. The mental link is a basic one to
allow basic thoughts to past through it, which are enough to share commands
and tactics if it were necessary. Knowledge about this bond is kept
secret between the line of Kings and Stewards, not even the Council
knows of it. A good guess for this being so, would be tactical reasons.
The knowledge of such an advantage would instigate unnecessary attention
upon the King and the Steward." Faramir stopped his explanation
for a moment in order to let the King process all this.
"It's unbelievable. I had no idea the Númenóreans'
power was such. I do not think even Elves were aware of this fact, either.
It calls my attention, too, that this never became known out of Gondor."
Aragorn looked at Faramir and bade him to continue.
"It is suspected the installation of the Ritual could
have been done in the times when some Kings practiced the magic arts.
The secrecy of it is guarded by the Council and men of the highest ranks,
the power acts for this to remain so," explained the young man.
"And... As for the Ritual itself," he continued,
"You do not have anything to worry about. Once the Steward is chosen
by blood or by choice, that is the case when the Steward in the bloodline
refuses, the power works in order to guarantee at least a mild attraction
to perform the Ritual. You can be sure I will go willingly, my King.
I knew what being a Steward entailed and I chose to be one as my brother
before me. This is where a potential Steward would have say in the matter,
he has the choice to reject the Steward Line and pass it to whomever
may want to replace him or whomever the King deems apt to it. Only when
the Steward accepts to be such, is he told about the bond the Ritual
entails. The power at work guarantees no Steward can reveal the secret,
we are not able to talk about it except to the King himself, the magic
makes it so." Faramir looked at the King waiting for what may come.
"But...what you are saying is the Steward has the choice
but the King doesn’t! You have the choice to refuse or accept
to be Steward with all the duties that follow. However, the King and
his line do not have that choice, an heir to the throne does not have
the choice to be or not to be future King. On the other hand, you say
the Steward can be selected by choice. Then, who gets to choose?"
"The King chooses who is fit to be tested by the Ritual.
Only once the Ritual proved the future Steward unworthy and the man
was punished with death. Anyway, he would have died because the power
at work would have done so. When executed the man was already dying.
The Ritual would not allow an impostor to go unpunished. From there
on, no one dared to try to deceive the Ritual. When a Steward is chosen
the Stewards’ Line goes to him and his descendants from there
on." Faramir turned his gaze away from the King's intense stare
and looked at the window in his room, the sun was radiant outside, he
thought for a moment; right now, he wanted to be anywhere but here.
This was proving to be more difficult with every passing moment, despite
all the King had said he couldn't help to think about his own inadequateness.
Faramir continued his explanation without facing the King,
his eyes fixed on the window. "And... What you think about the
King not having a choice, this is not so. The King has the ultimate
power, as the Steward is bound to be worthy under death punishment the
King himself is not tested. Furthermore, the nature of the Ritual is
bound to the nature of the King, so a tyrant King would find a Steward
of the like for the Ritual would reject one of just and pure feelings.
Above all this, the King has the right and the power to cancel the Ritual
tradition. It is only that no King has deemed this necessary. On the
contrary, the Ritual is seen of the utmost importance where military
matters are concerned," finished Faramir.
"Then we have nothing to talk about anymore. I will
revoke the tradition for I have the power to do so. You do not have
to endure this situation, willing or not. Rest now Faramir, you must
be tired after all this conversation." Said Aragorn rising from
his chair and touching the other's shoulder in a comforting gesture.
He was sure he was making the right decision. Faramir could not even
finish his explanation looking him in the face. He was sure Faramir
was not content with this situation, despite all the reassurances the
young man had just given him.
Faramir turned his head in haste to look at his King, eyes
were wide with surprise; he thought he had heard the wrong thing for
sure. "Sleep and don't worry about the crowning, I have delayed
it a week. I would not have you attend the Ritual if you were not recovered,
but now we do not have to worry about that. The same tradition states
that the Ritual gives the King the power to end it and I will do it.
Military advantage or not. I will talk to Galen right now and end this
for good." With that, Aragorn left Faramir to his rest.
However, that was impossible for Faramir because his King
had just condemned him to a horrid death, he had not heard wrong at
all. His King would revoke the Ritual without performing it himself
but the Ritual would still see this as a refusal. It would see him as
unworthy and would kill him for it. If Faramir's emotional state would
have been normal he would have realized the grave error he was about
to commit, but Faramir's emotional state was not at its best. He curled
himself into a tight ball and thought that maybe it was better this
way. He was weak no matter what the King said on the contrary. The Ritual
would still prove him unworthy due to his weakness. Besides, if he,
himself, was willing, the King it seemed was not; he was most reluctant
to do this so he would spare him of such inconvenience. He made his
decision of not telling the King what his refusal would entail. It would
be better this way. His King brought him back from death and his King
would give him back to it. Faramir did not notice the figure enter his room.
Aragorn stormed into Galen's office, the advisor was absorbed
in the preparations for the crowning ceremony.
"I will revoke the Ritual, Galen. Nothing you say will
change my mind so tell me right now what I must do to end this."
Aragorn was determined and no coercion from Galen’s side would
convince him of the contrary. Even less now that he knew Faramir had
other thoughts about this whole thing, no matter what the young man
tried to make him believe.
Galen rose from his chair with an appalled expression on
his face. "But...my King," he started to say.
"NOW GALEN, or!" The King roared, having run out
of patience but containing himself to utter a threat just in time.
"All right, Sire. Did you talk with Faramir?" This
could not be! Thought Galen frantically, something should have happened
for the King to make this decision.
"Yes, he told me everything there is to know about the
Ritual. In the end he told me the King had the power to end the Ritual
tradition and I'm making this choice."
"My King are you aware of what you are about to do?
We all..."
"Galen, I'm warning you."
Galen pressed the bridge of his nose. He could not say anything
more. He had tried to say they all appreciated Faramir, the young one
had suffered much at the hands of his own father and later when he learned
about Boromir's death. Galen thought that at last, his life would turn
out to be a happy one, but it seems he was wrong. Maybe the son of Arathorn
was not so compassionate as he first thought.
"Wait here, Sire. I will go to the library and retrieve
the book that contains the revoking of the Ritual." Galen left
his office, his heart heavy with sadness. All the way, he could think
of nothing else but how it could be possible that the King would take
Faramir's life when he wo saved him?
"Faramir?"
"My lady! W-what..." He stopped in mid sentence,
horrified to think about what he almost said. What was he thinking to
ask the Lady what she was doing here?
"Faramir, are you unwell?" Arwen could see the
young man was in a high state of distress but...was not Aragorn going
to talk with him? She thought her husband would have straightened this
situation out by now.
"N-no, my Lady. It's nothing." He was trying hard
to get a grip on himself but failing miserably. He arranged himself
into a sitting position. Arwen rushed to help him. "Lady please,
don't bother yourself with me. I'm well." He said uncomfortable
with Arwen fussing over him.
"Faramir, call me Arwen. And it's not a bother,"
she said finishing to adjusting Faramir’s pillows in a comfortable
position for him to sit. "Did Aragorn talk to you?" She asked
looking at his face for some clue, resting a hand on his shoulder. Faramir
just nodded, it was clear to her the man was on the verge of a break
down. "What did he say? Faramir? You can talk with me, Aragorn
told me about it," she said at last seeing Faramir was reluctant
to confide in her.
"He left...he is going to revoke the Ritual," said
Faramir in a quiet voice, trying to hide his distress. He did not dare
to look at Arwen in the face, he feared he would betray all that he
was feeling right now. She was Elven and Elven kind were famed in reading
emotions very well.
"But...I don't understand. He said Galen did not let
him have any choice. He came to see what you thought about this. How
come he's going to revoke this tradition?"
"The King has the power to do so, it's part of tradition
that the King can end the Ritual forever if he deems it necessary."
Faramir did not realize what he was doing; he had gathered his legs
into himself and was rocking his body back and forth. Arwen grew very
alarmed, she was sure something grave had happened. She did not need
to rely on Elven senses to see that something was very wrong.
"Faramir," she called firmly, tightening her grasp
on the young man's shoulder, "Faramir, hear me out. What will happen
when the Ritual is revoked?"
Faramir’s answer was to shake his head from side to
side. Arwen had her clue confirmed, something bad was going to happen.
"Faramir? Are you faithful to Gondor and her King?"
This had a reaction. Faramir looked straight into Arwen's eyes but still
went on with his disturbing rocking movement.
"I would die for them. I 'will' die for them,"
said Faramir averting his eyes. It was clear Faramir was in a state
of shock but Arwen did not give up and his words did not go unnoticed
by her either.
"Faramir. As your future Queen, I order you to tell
me. What will happen when Aragorn revokes the Ritual?" Arwen was
clear she would not be denied. Faramir felt lost. He could do nothing
but obey.
"I-if the Ritual is not completed before it is revoked,
the power at work takes it as the King’s refusal of the Steward,
he would be declared unworthy and...and... Please my Lady, I want to
rest." Faramir pleaded. He wanted all this to end.
"Faramir! But...but that would kill you, you would be
declared a traitor! Did you tell him about this? Faramir, did you tell
him?"
The young man shook his head in negative and Arwen's heart
skipped a beat.
"Faramir, where is Aragorn right now? Faramir! As your
Queen I order you to tell me where the King is right now!" Deep
inside she knew there was no time to lose.
"He went to find Galen to revoke the Ritual." Faramir
felt numb, he stared into space. His life had lost meaning. His life
was about to end anyway. He did not realize when Arwen left his side
without a word nor did he hear her calling for the healer.
Arwen was running through the halls of healing. She called
for a healer and when he stepped out of his office she bade him to see
Faramir for he was in shock. She did not stay to explain and went running
toward Galen's office.
All fell into place now. Faramir's distress and shock. He
had just received a death sentence! Valar, she had to hurry and stop
Aragorn before it was too late. He would never forgive himself if Faramir
died because of him. He would never get over this; his guilt would be
too great.
She arrived at Galen's office and without thinking twice
about i the room.
PART TWO. Straightening
Things.
"ARAGORN!"
The King was at Galen's desk, reading from a leather bound
book. His future Queen interrupted him in mid sentence.
"What have you done? Elbereth! Did you revoke the Ritual?"
Asked Arwen reaching the desk to grab the book Aragorn was reading.
Aragorn was too stunned to answer. He had never seen Arwen
in such a state. She had just stormed into the office, without knocking
first, and had ripped off the book, where Galen kept notes from the
Council meetings, from his hands. She was now turning the pages as if
looking for something.
"What is this? Is it not the revoking of the Ritual?"
She asked lifting her gaze from the book and looking at Aragorn with
eyes full of concern.
"No," said Aragorn rising from the chair. "What
happen Arwen? You are scaring me."
"Oh Elbereth," she sighed and went to the room's
window; the air in the room it seemed, suddenly, not enough; the awful
fright she had just suffered left her somewhat breathless.
Aragorn approached her very carefully and laid a hand on
her shoulder. "What is it? Arwen? I have never seen you like this."
Arwen turned around and embraced Aragorn, burying his face
in his chest. "Oh my love, you almost made a huge mistake. You
were going to revoke the Ritual and..."
"Arwen, I 'will' revoke the Ritual," said Aragorn
interrupting her. He was getting annoyed, he thought Arwen was at his
side in this. "I made my decision and..."
"NO!" She said, taking one step away from Aragorn's
embrace. "You would be condemning Faramir to a certain death. If
you do not fulfil the Ritual Faramir will die, for it will be as if
you would have refused him. Do you understand what I am saying?"
Arwen looked her beloved in the eye, waiting for Aragorn to take in
what she had just said.
"It is not so Arwen. I talked with Faramir and he explained
to me that the King has the power to revoke the Ritual when he deems
it necessary."
"Yes, he might have told you that but he omitted to
tell you that if you do not fulfil the Ritual before revoking it, it
would be as if you had refused him. Aragorn, he will be declared unfit
and die for it. You have no choice in this matter. In order for you
to revoke it without doing him harm you must complete it. I do not know
why he did not tell you that but I just saw him and he was in a high
state of distress; understandable if you consider he had just been condemned
to death."
Aragorn listened to Arwen, all the while thinking it could
not be possible. He walked away from Arwen's side and went to sit on
the chair next to Galen's desk, he was not sure his legs would support
him well. He thought that there must be a misunderstanding somewhere
because surely Faramir would have said something when he told him about
his decision, would not he?
He tried to remember what Faramir had said, what he himself
had said. Faramir had explained some facts but he never expressed anything
about not wanting to do this duty. Now that he came to think about it,
he told Faramir he was going to revoke the Ritual when the young man
said to him he had the power to do so. He had not bothered to ask the
young man what he thought about this decision and it was clear now that
he should have. Faramir had doubts about his worth; he had witnessed
that insecurity himself. No doubt, the young man thought his King considered
him unworthy to go through with this Ritual but...he remembered having
assured the young man about his value. Why then had not Faramir told
him? Or maybe, Faramir assumed he knew about this factor and thought
his King did not care if he died. Another fact that came into his mind
was that of Galen not telling him either. He would have a long talk
with Galen about this matter.
"Aragorn?" Arwen had approached without Aragorn
even realizing of it. He was deep in thought, a troubled expression
on his face.
"What?" Aragorn lifted his gaze to look at his
wife.
"What are you going to do?" She asked him quietly.
"I will see Faramir, I will reassure him and then I
will learn everything there is to know about this damned Ritual. It
seems we will have to go through it after all." Aragorn reached
out, took Arwen's hands between his, and placed a light kiss on them
before rising up from his chair and head for the door. He decided to
go right away to the houses of healing.
It was that moment Galen chose to enter his office, a large
book in his hands. The King just walked past him not without first giving
him a furious glare. "I will talk with you later." Then he
disappeared into the hall leaving a startled and worried advisor behind.
"You better sit Galen, I will explain all to you."
Arwen proceeded to tell the advisor all that had passed and
Galen was relieved that his King was not a heartless man after all.
All had been a misunderstanding. But...that did not explain the furious
glare the Kihim. Did it?
Aragorn arrived at the houses of healing and went directly
toward Faramir's room, encountering the Warden Healer in his way. "Varan,
how is Faramir?"
"I have given him something to sleep. He was unresponsive...as
though in shock, I do not understand what could possibly have happened
for him to be like that. He is...well, he was very well, he was going
to his rooms today as I told you before," finished the healer,
a pensive expression on his face.
"Do not worry Varan. He is well; his distress comes
from a different source than a physical one. I will take him to his
rooms right away; awakening in a familiar place will do him good. I
will take care of him from now on, do not worry." Aragorn left
a startled healer in the middle of the hall and went to see Faramir.
He entered the room taking in the curled up form of his Steward.
Faramir laid facing away from the door. Aragorn walked to the bed and
wrapped Faramir into the sheets; he then took the young man in his arms
and walked out of the houses of healing with his precious burden.
He soon arrived at Faramir's quarters and signaled one of
the guards always posted in the halls to open the door for him. He walked
in and headed for Faramir's bed, gently placing the young man on the
soft mattress, making him as comfortable as possible. "That will
be all, thank you," he said to the guard who left the room closing
the door behind him. Aragorn took a chair and placed it close to the
bed; he would guard the young man's sleep.
Faramir looked very fragile, so different from how he had
been in the morning; he had to admit the young man had a very low estimation
of himself but he had seemed to be coping well. Now, Faramir looked
pale and troubled, even in his sleep, and he hated the fact that he
was responsible for the state the young man was in right now. I hope
that he would be able to straighten things out for Faramir.
The hours passed and by the window, the sun said goodbye
with red and orange hues to let the stars show their brilliance. Arwen
had come to see how Faramir was doing and tried to convince Aragorn
to have some dinner but Aragorn had told her he could not eat anything
right now; besides, he did not want Faramir to wake up alone.
Finally, Faramir stirred in his sleep and opened his eyes.
He saw Aragorn sitting in a chair at arm length from the bed, a concerned
look on his face. Faramir's gaze went beyond Aragorn, realizing that
the night had set in. How much time had passed? His thoughts had no
order and they seemed to jump this way and that by their own will. Faramir
suddenly realized he was in his rooms but could not remember having
walked here at all. He closed his eyes briefly to open them again, this
time looking at the King. Faramir wondered why was the King here, he
must have revoked the Ritual Tradition by now and...Why was it that
he was not in any pain? The magic worked at once or so he thought.
Aragorn was getting more concerned by the minute. Faramir
woke up and seemed much disoriented. He looked directly at him but then
he seemed to look behind him, through the window, and his stare became
vacant and his eyes closed to open again, fix on him again but...it
was as though the young man was not looking at him at all.
"Faramir?" Aragorn tried not to startle him, and
the soft-spoken voice seemed to have an effect because Faramir's gaze
shifted and focused, his eyes so sad that the sight almost broke Aragorn's
heart.
"Sire?"
Faramir's voice was so rough, as though the young man had
been crying. "Why did not you tell me, Faramir? You should have
told me when I said I was going to end the tradition," said Aragorn
keeping his voice in a soothing tone. He looked at the young man and
could see Faramir was trying hard to rein in his emotions. "You
can talk to me, Faramir. Don't you trust me?"
"With my very life, my King," answered the young
man at last, his voice almost inaudible.
"Then why did you almost make me take that life away
from you, Faramir? Do you have any idea what that would have done to
me?" Aragorn waited for a reaction.
Faramir's eyes were downcast, unable to look at the King
anymore. After what it seemed a long time, he finally decided to explain.
"It was not my intention, Sire," said Faramir facing Aragorn
at last. "First...I thought you knew that you could not revoke
the Ritual without condemning me to death. In one...mad moment I thought
you... preferred to do it that way, that you didn't want to go through
the Ritual because of me and...That this was an opportunity to get rid
of a weak Steward," Faramir made a pause seeing how the face of
the King was looking increasingly sad and distressed, and betrayed.
Aragorn could not believe Faramir thought that of him. What
had he done to make the young man thinks he would be capable of doing
such a thing?
"But then...I realized you would be incapable of doing
such a thing, I thought that maybe you didn't know and I...made the
decision to not tell you about it and spare you of a Steward..."
Faramir did not finish the sentence, he just closed his eyes and waited
for the King to pass his judgement for he could see Aragorn was not
pleased with his answer.
Aragorn did not know what to say. He had assured Faramir
of his worth and for some reason unknown to him the young man did not
believe his words. It seemed to him now that Boromir was right to worry,
Denethor did a lot of damage during his elder son’s absence; it
was clear he vented all his frustration on Faramir. Aragorn felt a sudden
rage toward Denethor and his madness; he got up from his chair and gathered
Faramir in his arms, knowing nothing he could say would comfort this
man.
For a second, the young Steward did not know what to do,
the King’s embrace and the kindness he showed so unexpected to
him that he tried to reject the offered comfort but then, he felt how
his King tightened his hold all the more, soothingly caressing his back.
He felt how without words his King comforted him in a way only this
man with the power to heal could do, he felt saved and cherished. No
words were spoken and nonetheless so much were said. Only Boromir had
been able to lift his mood this way, only the unconditional love of
his brother; his only friend, the only person he had confided in. Now,
his King offered solace in this embrace that said so much. He felt like
a fool for what he had almost done, for what he had almost made his
King do.
"I'm sorry my King, I.." Faramir did not realize
a silent tear was running down his cheek.
Aragorn let go of Faramir for a moment to look into the young
man's face and was not surprised by Faramir's reaction. He embraced
Faramir once more.
Faramir clung unexpectedly tight to the King's embrace and
started to sob in earnest against Aragorn's chest, "I am so sorry,
Sire. Forgive me, please, forgive me for being such a fool," pleaded
the young man.
"Don't ever do such a thing again, Faramir," said
Aragorn, loosening his hold to take the young man by the shoulders,
looking at Faramir's eyes to make his point. "I do not know what
Denethor said to you, I do not know how he treated you; I only tell
you that whatever he said that was demeaning, it is not true. You are
a valuable warrior, you are someone who fought Evil and survived, who
looked at Evil on the face and kept going," finished Aragorn reassuringly
and taking Faramir's face between his hands, he tenderly wiped away
the tears falling down the young man's face.
Faramir looked at his King with veneration and taking his
hands from where they rested on his face, looked at them and reverently
lowered his head to kiss them, then without relinquish his hold he laid
them to his face again, the feel so warm and comforting.
"That day I was sure I was going to die, I was sure
I would die fighting by the River," Faramir started with voice
so quiet but unusually steady, considering the dire tale he was telling.
"I went to fight without hope of survival, without reasons to return
to." The young man let go of Aragorn's hands and glanced up to
read his King's face, seeing only kindness and compassion.
"I had just returned to the city, chased on my way back
by Wraiths, fiends of the air," said Faramir, lowering his gaze
once more. "My father learned about my decision of letting the
Halflings go and he hated me the more for it. He said...he made it clear
to me that he would have preferred I had died instead of Boromir. The
next day he ordered me to go to the River, knowing the situation was
lost there and that I might never return. He knew and nevertheless he
ordered me, he preferred to sacrifice an useless son rather than see
him live to remind him everyday of the other son he had lost, the one
dearest to his heart.
"I was wounded and brought to the city, I don't remember
any of this though. The next thing I do remember is the fire,"
continued the young man, his voice breaking a little. "I tried
to call my father, I saw him lighting the pyre and I tried to call him
but the smoke did not let me...I saw the flames closing in on me and...and
the last thing I thought was...that I must be indeed worthless if my
own father would set me afire," finished Faramir, covering his
face within his hands to hide his shamed tears from his King.
Aragorn had said nothing during the awful tale. Denethor's
only excuse was his madness. He wanted to think that was so for he could
not imagine a father could be this cruel with his own son. He had listened
without saying anything, allowing Faramir to let go of all the bitterness;
but now that the young man was at the end of his tether, he could not
stay aside anymore. He gathered the hands of his Steward and laid them
to his own chest, placing them over his own heart.
"The first thing I did when I entered the White City
was to visit the houses of healing and look for you," started Aragorn.
"I commanded you to return to the light and you obeyed me without
question and even managed to know who I was," said Aragorn to the
young man who kept his eyes shut, tears still running down his face.
"Now, as your King I will ask some things of you and I expect my
orders to be followed to the letter."
Faramir reacted to this statement and facing the King said,
"My King, I will do anything you ask of me, my life is yours."
"First and most important of all, I never, never, want
to hear you saying anything akin to the words worthless or 'useless'
when you refer to yourself. I want to make it clear that you are a most
valued warrior, you are important for the ones who care about you, including
me, and your life is not mine, your life is yours. Do you understand
what I am asking of you and what this implies?" Asked Aragorn squeezing
the hands placed on his chest a little to attract the other man's attention.
"Yes Sire," answered Faramir quietly.
"Well, then tell me what you understand from this command,"
said Aragorn. "Translate it in your own words," he added right
away. "I am waiting Faramir," he continued with an undertone
of jest when Faramir hesitated to answer.
"You..." Faramir frowned. "I...I am important
to you?" Finished the young man, trying to recover his hands but
Aragorn had a good grip on them.
Aragorn did not stop to notice Faramir's choice of words,
''important'', this was indeed the key here. Denethor had demeaned him
so much, Faramir had been incapable of seeing his own worth anymore,
and he only saw what Denethor told him, a distorted version of reality.
Denethor's reality. And it was so sad for this seemed to have been happening
since Faramir's childhood from all the things Boromir had told him,
the few times they had talked about Faramir. ''Important'' was how Faramir
wanted to feel, he had wanted to be important for his father but nothing
he did was enough to please Denethor. He wanted to have the importance
of someone who is loved.
Aragorn smiled at the expectant face of Faramir and let go
of one the young man hands to place his own over Faramir's heart, amused
by the man's wide eyed reaction. "You are 'very' important to me
Faramir. I knew of you from your brother, he had only praises for you.
He said you were kind and compassionate and a fine warrior, 'my kind
warrior' he called you and I must agree with him. Hear me out Faramir,
I am your King but above all, I am your friend.
"Which leads me to my second request. As a friend of
mine and for the sake of the ones who love you, you have the duty to
take care of yourself. You will not put yourself in unnecessary danger
by any means. If you are troubled you will not keep it all inside, you
can come to me for friends do that, they take comfort from one another
in troubled times. If you need help you go to your friends, if you feel
happiness, you share it with your friends, that is the way it is done.
Do you understand this as well, Faramir?" Asked Aragorn, making
it clear he was waiting for Faramir to ''translate'' in his own words
again.
"Yes Sire," said the young man meekly. "We
are friends."
"Good," said Aragorn, letting go of Faramir’s
hands who quickly put them on his lap. "Very good. My third request
is that you call me Aragorn, not Sire, not my Liege nor my King. From
now on, I am only Aragorn for you; you will call me by my royal title
only in official affairs, but in occasions such as those, even Arwen
will call me King. Do you understand this as well?" Asked Aragorn
a wicked smile on his face. He knew this last one would be difficult
for Faramir.
"Yes Si...Aragorn," answered the young man with
a smile of his own. Aragorn was delighted for this was the first genuine
smile he had seen on Faramir's face.
"Very well Faramir, I see you learn fast," said
Aragorn in a teasing tone. "And last but not least, I want you
to give me your word of honor that you will fulfil to the letter all
that I have requested of you," finished Aragorn waiting for Faramir
answer.
"I give you my word of honor...Aragorn."
"Very well, I guess that would be all for now. I want
you to rest, we will talk more tomorrow, I will learn all that is to
know about the Ritual and we will go through this together. Your life
here will not be as the one you had, it will be better; no one will
ever tell you are worthless and you will not let anyone tell you something
of the like either," said Aragorn walking to the door.
Faramir followed him with his gaze and his eyes were troubled
no more, he felt a burden had been lifted from his shoulders, he felt
as light as a feather. "Thank you Aragorn...for all that you have
done."
"That is what friends are for. I will see someone brings
you something to eat, I am sure you have not had anything in all day,"
said Aragorn disappearing through the door.
Faramir looked to the window; clouds of rain had set in making
the night dark. However, Faramir did not care, for light was in his
heart.
PART THREE. First Steps.
The next day Aragorn had a private meeting in his office
with Galen. Right after breakfast they went to the King's Office to
discuss all that there was to know about the Ritual. Galen arrived at
the King's office with the book that contained the desired explanations.
"Well Sire, as I told you before, we do not know when
exactly in time the Ritual came to be. Its origin in history is lost
to us. All that we have is what is passed from King to King, Steward
to Steward and Council to Council," said Galen to the King.
"The Council knows about the nature of the proof itself,
that the King has the power to end the tradition, that if the Steward
is proven unfit the magic of the Ritual sentences him to death and that
every party involved would read from this book what it is meant for
each party to read," finished the counselor.
"Explain this," asked Aragorn.
"Anyone who opens the book, other than the three parties
I just mentioned, would see only blank pages. When I open the book,
I can read only what is meant for the members of the council to read,
that is, a general description and information about the procedures
concerning the councilor who will attend to the first part of the Ritual.
When the Steward opens the book he can read what is meant for him to
read, that is, what the test entails for him, which is more of than
what the council knows. When the King opens the book, he can read it
all. The book is a magical one and explains everything, but only to
the King. It also cannot be destroyed for it is protected by a spell."
Aragorn nodded at this and took a pensive stance. After some
minutes he finally said, "Then Galen, you say that what I must
do now is read the Book?"
"Yes my King, I said all that I know about this. Only
the book would inform you further about the matter."
"And Faramir? Would he read his part too?"
"Faramir read it as soon as he was pronounced Steward,
Sire."
"Fine then," said Aragorn with a sigh. "That
would be all Galen, thank you."
"I will be in my office if you need me," said Galen,
getting up from his chair and exiting the King's office.
Aragorn meanwhile opened the Book and without further ado
started to read. It took him half an hour to read it all though the
book was a heavy and big one for the pages were thick and full of elaborate
drawings and large letters. All was clear and easy to understand, the
only thing he learned was about the nature of the binding, what would
really happen the night of the Ritual and where this event would take
place. He realized he certainly did not know all about his chambers
at all.
Now that he knew everything about the Ritual, he did not
like what he would have to do. He did not imagine it to be like this.
Not at all. Faramir was a kind soul and he did not want him to suffer
without reason. He had promised Faramir he would treat him as a friend,
that he would never be treated in a demeaning way and now this would
make him break his promise. Sudden rage took over and he threw the book
to the opposite side of the room.
Then Aragorn saw something he would not imagine, surprise
rooting him to his chair. The book landed on the floor, face up but
then, the pages started to turn themselves until the book was closed
and just as suddenly, the book gyrated into the air and came to float
just in front of the one who threw it away in the first place. The thing
seemed to mock Aragorn, daring him to do it again. Aragorn just took
it carefully and put it on the table.
He decided to go and talk with Faramir and getting up from
the chair, exited his office and went to the young man's rooms. It was
mid morning and since Faramir did not attend breakfast, he would surely
rooms yet.
Faramir decided to take breakfast in his rooms. He felt quite
all right but not in the mood to face the entire castle yet. The night
before it had rained and he had left his bed and walked to his window
to watch the drops softly falling on the earth. He liked rain; the sound
of its cadence soothed him. But last night the rain did not have its
usual effect on him for his mind was in turmoil. A good one though.
Last night his life detoured to a good direction, he now had his King's
trust, though it seemed he had always had it.
His King was kind. He was unique. A King of Men raised among
Elves. A man who seemed uncomfortable with titles and power but whose
leadership was undeniable. He would follow Aragorn into any battle without
question, not because he was a King but because he was a man who represented
all that was good in the Race of Men.
Yes, he had stayed awake all night and his King's kindness
was not the only thing he pondered about. He thought about the duty
he would fulfil in a week and this kept filling his thoughts even now.
No, he was definitely not in the mood to face the household
yet, much less his King but for different reasons now.
He really hoped the King knew all about the Ritual. Or maybe
he did not know all yet? It would be very embarrassing to talk about
all the details in his presence.
He decided to take a walk in the gardens and try to forget
about the whole thing. The gardens would surely be beautiful after the
rain from last night and maybe he could get to relax a little. He went
to the door and opened it to find the King there, a hand raised in midair
ready to knock on the door.
"My K...," started to say Faramir, "Aragorn,"
he finished instead with a bow of his head and making room for the King
to walk into the room.
"Faramir, if you call me Aragorn and bow your head each
time it would ruin all I want to accomplish, my friend," said Aragorn
with a light laugh. "Were you going out? If not I bid you to do
it, please, give me company in the gardens." He finished, waiting
for Faramir to decide.
"Of course...Aragorn," answered Faramir embarrassed
to almost slip again, it was difficult for him to get accustomed to
call the King by name. Nevertheless, he thought it was nice the familiarity
of it; that the King considered him a friend and treated him as such.
They walked through the corridors in silence. Faramir did
not know what to say or ask to engage the King in conversation. He wanted
to know all about such an unusual man, how it had been for him to grow
up among Elves, had he known all along about his heritage? What perils
had he faced on the Quest of the One Ring? In the end he just asked
about the one thing he wanted to know about the most, despite the pain
it would cause.
"How was his death? Did he suffer much?" Faramir
gave the King a quick glance to gauge the effect his questions had on
the other man.
"Let us find our destination first, Faramir, for to
talk about this matter would be just as sad for you as it is for me,"
answered Aragorn, not missing the sad expression already appearing on
the young man's face. "We are almost there. Tell me instead, how
do you feel this morning? Are you in any pain?"
"No Sire...Aragorn," answered Faramir, mortified
at his slip. "Forgive me, I can't seem to get accustomed to call
you by name. I am trying though, it is not that I do not consider you
my friend as you bid of me, it is that... "
Aragorn could not stop a chuckle to escape his mouth. "Oh
Faramir, what will I do with you?" he said, reaching out to place
his left arm over Faramir's shoulders. "You think me as your King
and nothing else. I do not blame you for we have not shared much with
each other yet for you to be more at ease in my presence and that is
why we are heading to the gardens right now. To know each other more.
You can ask me anything you want and I will answer if it is in my power
to do so. The same for you, I will ask you things about yourself and
you will answer if you feel comfortable enough to do so. Heed my words
Faramir, for I'm beginning to know you better, you do not have to answer
something you do not want to; if you feel uncomfortable with a question
just tell me and we will change the subject. Understood?" finished
Aragorn, hugging Faramir a little close to emphasizes his point.
"Understood," answered the young man, a small smile
on his lips.
They kept walking through the corridors. Aragorn had let
go of Faramir noticing for sure the young man was somewhat uncomfortable
having his King's arm over his shoulders. For this, Faramir was grateful
because he was just not familiar with this kind of attention from anyone
other than his brother or a few other acquaintances. Very few, indeed,
for as the Steward's son, all in the realm watched him with respect,
protocol coming in the way so many times.
The gesture, though, let Faramir to think about how rare,
if not non-existent, this kind of attention had been where his father
was concerned. He craved for a love and approval that never came. Not
even in death.
Aragorn, in the mean time, left Faramir to his own devices.
He knew the young man was thinking of or remembering something not so
pleasant. He was about to talk Faramir into a light chatter but decided
against it instead; it was better for Faramir to let out all his demons
and he, Aragorn, would see to it. So they kept walking in companionable
silence until they reached the gardens. Aragorn realized the young man
had just followed him without paying much attention for they were already
in the gardens and Faramir just kept walking, a pensive expression on
his face.
"We are here, my friend, let us just sit on the bench
close to the east wall. It is very beautiful there and better still,
nobody would be likely to disturb us," said Aragorn, smiling at
the startled expression on the young man face. 'Oh Faramir, you look
most endearing when you are surprised... Now where that thought came
from?' Aragorn realized he was already falling for the young man.
"Oh... I was thinking...I had not realized we had arrived.
You must forgive me for these days I do not know where my head is,"
said Faramir apologetically, following Aragorn to the bench.
The sat in silence for a while, side by side, legs almost
touching, Faramir looking at everything but the King and the King oblivious
to everything but Faramir. In the end, Faramir risked a peek and found
the insistent stare of Aragorn. Though red to the points of his ears,
the young man could not glance away from the intense gaze of his King.
He thought, that there were not eyes as grey and kind and warm as these,
of this man.
"What is in your mind, my friend?" asked Aragorn.
Faramir woke from the reverie he seemed to be immersed in.
"What...well," he averted his gaze again.
"Faramir?" Asked Aragorn, resting a hand the young
man's shoulder. "What is the matter? You know you can trust me,"
said Aragorn, flinching inside at his own words and thinking that soon,
he would betray that trust.
"It is nothing...Aragorn, it is just that, well, it
is unusual for me, this familiarity with someone of higher rank. Even
with father, I had to keep the protocol. And...Now, having you ask me
to treat you as a friend, it is...unusual," finished Faramir, shrugging
and casting a sidelong glance at Aragorn.
"Well, none of that," said Aragorn, tightening
his grip on the young man's shoulders in a comforting gesture, before
removing his hand, "Why do we not talk of something else, not of
ranks, or protocols. You asked me something in the corridor and while
I would have preferred to begin to talk of happier things I understand
your need to know."
Faramir nodded, knowing very well what Aragorn was referring
to.
"He died bravely, Faramir, he was a great warrior and
in the end died protecting The Fellowship. He will be honored as the
hero he is," said Aragorn, placing his arm over the other man's
shoulders, trying to comfort him.
Faramir knew that his brother having had an honorable death
was a comfort but he wanted his brother alive. His brother was all he
had good in this world and now he was gone never to return.
"He loved you very much, your brother. He talked a lot
of you and had you in high regard as a warrior. As I told you before
he called you his ''kind warrior'', he said your heart was too good
and your spirit far too kind to have them waste in a battlefield,"
continued Aragorn.
Faramir just nodded and smiled a little between the silent
tears that had started to fall down his face. "He wanted me to
be a scholar," started to say the young man in a quite voice, "he
thought I would be most useful in the Council not in a battlefield,
but my father thought differently. My father never wanted me close so
he sent me to train as soon as I was able to do it. I just did as told,
father was one nobody dared to oppose; and besides, I wanted to prove
myself worthy... though nothing I did ever satisfied him," finished
Faramir, bowing his face.
"Faramir, do you really think you lack skills in a battlefield?
Answer truthfully my friend," asked Aragorn.
Faramir just shook his head as though he was incapable of
answering. Finally, he forced himself to answer when he realized Aragorn
would have none of it. "I forced myself to the best of my abilities,
I knew I had the task done and I know I have the respect of the men
under my command... One just tires when one receives only disapproval
from the person you crave approval the most, and in the end... I just
could not help but think that maybe I was doing something wrong,"
he finished and looked at Aragorn, a pained expression on his face.
"Oh Faramir, I do not know how it would feel to try
to live up to someone's expectations and know that nothing you do would
be enough. I lived, aside from my parents’ death, a happy childhood
and my foster father always showed me unconditional affection and support,
so maybe, I am not suited to give you advice in this matter. Nevertheless,
I had had many doubts myself and I know now, that foremost, one must
believe in one self, one must believe in what lies in one's heart. You
are a great warrior for your men have you in high regard, you are a
good brother for Boromir loved you very much, you are a good son for
you tried, despite how he treated you, to please your father in his
every whim. Let me know you, Faramir, as a friend. Let me give you the
comfort a brother would give, do not close yourself," finished
Aragorn tightening his hold over the other man's shoulders.
Faramir shook his head in a gesture of impotence, tears falling
in earnest now. He hugged himself in a self protective gesture.
Aragorn hugged Faramir in a tight embrace and held him while
the young man sobbed brokenly in his arms, for a second time. If he
knew Faramir well by now, he was sure the young Steward would be embarrassed
with this behavior, not because he would think it was not proper but
because he, Aragorn, was the King. Of course, he would make sure Faramir
dropped all his inhibitions and make him think of him as a friend. He
did not wanted to think about the damn Ritual just yet.
He let Faramir cry, it was good this had happened for it
was clear Faramir had suppressed much inside himself. This outburst
was a good signal for he would at last start to get rid of his demons.
He just tried to comfort him the best he could, soothing his back, as
the sobs seemed to intensify. He said nothing, though, for nothing he
would say could alleviate Faramir's pain right now.
After a while Faramir calmed somewhat and withdrew from Aragorn's
arms. He brushed his hand over his eyes, somewhat a little angry. "Forgive
me...I do not know what came over me...you would think I am a weakling
for I have done nothing but cry in your arms since we have met,"
said Faramir his voice hoarse and evidently very ashamed of himself.
"If I were your brother would you be this upset from
having cried in front of me?" asked Aragorn, his voice a little
brusque.
Faramir tried to avoid Aragorn’s gaze but the later
insisted, unrelenting.
"Would you?"
"No," came the sudden reply, "my brother was
the only one I trusted with my feelings. Besides being my brother, he
was also my only true friend."
"Then you would die for me but I am not good enough
to give you comfort?" pressed Aragorn.
Faramir did something much unexpected. He laughed. He laughed
loud. A laugh from the heart, spontaneous and beautiful, Aragorn thought.
"You never give up! You have a gift of twisting everything
in your favor, even my own words. The Council will be in trouble with
you," finished Faramir laughing still. He thought to himself he
must be going crazy for laughing this way after crying so much, over
his King’s shoulder no less! He laughed harder still.
And Aragorn laughed just seeing Faramir laugh and he felt
like thanking the Valar on his knees for this loving sight of Faramir,
a little happy at last, no matter if it was for just a little thing.
Faramir, started to calm from his laughing fit and grew a
little serious within the minute. The moment lost, it seemed.
"Ah no, my friend, do not dare to be all serious again,
I will take the day off. Are you up for a ride? Why don't you serve
me as guide and show me the wonderful secret place that Frodo told me
about, the falls of Henneth Annûn? You will tell me about your
childhood pranks and I will tell you about mine, and I assure you, after
this, you will not think twice before calling me Aragorn anymore,"
stated a not so regal King, yanking his Steward from the bench and dragging
him all the way to the stables.
PART FOUR. A Day Out.
"This is my favorite place in all the realm," said
Faramir, contemplating the waterfalls from the wide platform of smooth
rock where he and the King were sitting. "This place is beautiful,
even more so in nights when Ithil shines so bright the waterfall seems
to glow and the foam formed by the crashing of the water over the river
creates an ethereal mist on the shore.
"I remember a time," he continued, "when the
war had not reached this part yet. I used to come here and sit for hours
watching the waterfall, hearing its soothing sound. Boromir always came
to drag me out of here for I always missed the passing of time in this
beautiful place," said Faramir, his eyes unfocused in remembrance.
"You would love Imladris then. There are many waterfalls
and glades that take one's breath away," commented Aragorn, pleased
that Faramir seemed at last to be at ease in his presence. "Gondor
has her own beauty too."
Faramir laughed lightly. "Your friend, Prince Legolas,
thinks different from what I heard."
"Oh? And how is that?" replied Aragorn.
"Well, while I was in the houses of healing, the healers
commented on. They spoke much about your friends for they had never
seen Elves, Dwarves or Halflings before, so they gossiped about the
whereabouts and sayings of your friends. The lady Éowyn and I laughed
much at your dear friends’ expense, you must forgive us for that,
Aragorn. The healers found out that while Prince Legolas wanted to fill
everything with trees and birds, Gimli wanted to reform the stone foundations
and of the Halflings, they said that they eat too many breakfasts,"
finished Faramir looking at Aragorn and laughing louder this time.
"Have you talked with Éowyn?" asked Aragorn, delighted
with the way Faramir mood had improved.
"Yes," answered Faramir, calming a little from
his laughing fit, "she is a strong and fine lady, she has the heart
of a warrior, well...she 'is' a warrior. You should have seen her, giving
the healers the headache of their lives," he finished, starting
to laugh anew.
"I could imagine it," said Aragorn, "what
a pair would have presented to the healers the two of you for I know
you were not so judicious either," finished Aragorn.
This last sentence seemed the more funny for Faramir.
Aragorn found himself mesmerized by Faramir's happiness.
The young man's laugh was so rare that when it happened it was a sight
to behold. The forlorn look was replaced by one that was light and spontaneous,
as a beam lighting his face. "You have a beautiful laugh, and I
regret I do not see it often," said Aragorn to a bewildered Faramir.
The young Steward became suddenly shy and Aragorn would have
kicked himself if he would have been able to do so, for losing Faramir's
laugh so carelessly. "There had not been much to laugh about these
times. Hopefully, that will change now that the King has finally returned?"
replied Faramir tentatively.
"That will 'surely' change now that the King is here,"
said Aragorn, the reliability of it, plain in his voice.
Faramir laid himself down more comfortably on the grass,
a light sigh on his lips. He closed his eyes to feel the sun warm his
face and the light breeze lull him. "I do not remember when was
the last time I could do this, just being here, enjoying the day, worries
forgotten even if for a little while," said Faramir, his voice
a quiet murmur. "Things definitely have started to change,"
he continued with a smile on his slips, his eyes still close.
Aragorn could do no more than stare. This abandoned Faramir
he liked very much. The young man worried all the time, and tended to
think things over a little too much for his own good. He took the opportunity
laid before him to study the young man at will and to reflect about
him as well.
The Steward was a little pale, too pale if one thought about
all the hours he had spent outdoors. The past ordeal was still clear
on his face, though now, he definitely looked much improved, the ghostly
paleness of death gone. The injury Faramir had suffered would give him
trouble for the rest of his life, though, for it was a Nazgûl dart that
had wounded him; the nuisance would fade more with the passage of time
but it would always be there.
Faramir was now sound asleep, the soothing breeze and good
memories had lulled him into it for sure. He could not help but reach
out and brush a wayward strand of hair from the young man's face, at
which Faramir stirred a little, seeking the comforting hand in his sleep.
Aragorn smiled at this, his Steward was a trusting soul by nature; had
conceded to himself that he was already lost to this young man, now
he was sure. Faramir was a remarkable man, kind and brave, his spirit
was a blinding force indeed. He chuckled to himself. Now that times
of peace had arrived, the kind soul of his Steward would raze everything
in its way, he will blind all with his shinning light, no doubt of it.
After a while Aragorn grew bold and started to caress the
young man's face, tracing with his index finger the contour of the sleeping
man's eyebrows, the eyelashes, the perfect nose, the slightly open luscious
lips that right now begged to be kissed, and he could not refuse such
a plea, so he slowly lowered himself and lightly touched with his own
lips those of the sleeper. The touch was so sweet it begged for further
tasting, which he did.
Faramir was dreaming and it was such a good dream. He was
riding through the countryside with his King and the sun was setting
on the horizon. They had decided to stop at the Waterfalls and spend
the night there. So they arrived at the site when the first stars showed
their sparkling light. In his dream, the light of the stars was so bright
it lit the place so they did not start a fire, for the weather was warm
as well. They laid the bedrolls beside one another and went to sleep.
However, sleep was elusive for both of them so they started a small
conversation.
In his dream, his King moved to be closer to him, very slowly
reached out, and ever so slightly, caressed his face. In his dream,
his King drew closer still and tenderly kissed him on the lips.
For some strange reason, Faramir did not feel shy or ashamed
to feel such emotions of lust and desire for his King. So Faramir closed
his eyes, the sensations deepening as well as the kiss, he parted his
lips to give further access to his King, his heart was raising, his
senses in overload.
So he opened his eyes to see the grey eyes of his King shining
under the bright light of the mid day.
Aragorn deepened the kiss and unexpectedly Faramir parted
his lips further, inviting him to taste him thoroughly, which he gladly
did.
Then Faramir opened his eyes, his eyelids half closed, and
the hooded gaze full of desire. And just as suddenly, Faramir froze,
wide eyes staring right at him, desire replaced by embarrassment.
Aragorn quickly broke apart from the young man, an apologetic
look on his face. "I am sorry Faramir. I do not know what came
over me to take such a liberty. Please forgive me," asked Aragorn,
waiting for the other man to react.
Faramir was stunned and quickly sat up. He had been dreaming
they were at this same place but... In his dream, it was night and Aragorn
was kissing him but... Aragorn had just kissed him right now and it
was, obviously, mid day and... He could still feel the heat on his lips
and he wanted more of that, he wanted to feel it again but now, being
wide-awake.
"Do it again please," asked Faramir, his gaze unwavering.
"What... But..." it was Aragorn's turn to be nonplused.
This, he had not expected, something had happened for this version of
Faramir he had not dream of. The young man was very shy and he never
thought to get carried away in the kiss for Faramir to realize it, and
now that the young man was awake and had caught him in the act, he had
expected him to recoil, not this forward petition for more.
Aragorn saw enthralled how Faramir lifted his right hand
to his own lips and touched them as though to make himself sure the
kiss had really happened. The Steward's unwavering gaze started to shift,
started to doubt and Aragorn saw how Faramir abruptly lowered his hand
and his gaze. This last gesture made Aragorn emerge from his astonished
state; he quickly reach out and tenderly touched the side of Faramir's
face, bidding the young Steward to lift his gaze.
Faramir looked at Aragorn once more with hope showing in
his eyes. He lift his hand once more, this time to rest upon the hand
touching his cheek, he inclined his head a little, closed his eyes and
enjoyed the tender contact.
Aragorn closed the short distance separating them and took
Faramir's head between his hands, and slowly, drew near the other man
and kissed him. Tenderly at first, but then, increasing and deepening
the touch.
For Faramir the kiss was tender, consuming, possessive and
weakening. He would have slid down onto the floor were he not already
sitting. The kiss ended and they parted; he looked straight into Aragorn's
grey gaze, and was lost all over again. He reached out and touched Aragorn's
lips, feeling the warmth there, feeling the faltering breathing, as
his own, coming out of the delicious mouth.
"You are beautiful; in every sense, you are beautiful.
Your soul feels...pure, it seemed war has not touched it, nor tarnished
it," said Aragorn. He felt as though his body was on fire, he wanted
to ravish Faramir without delay but he knew he could not. Faramir must
not lay with any man, not even him, before the night of the Ritual.
Aragorn realized he cared deeply for Faramir, not only as
a friend, he wanted more. He had fallen for the young man, unaware of
the moment that it had happened. He should see this as a complication,
but instead, he felt happy. He knew he could bring happiness to Faramir,
if the young man let him. He would have to talk to Arwen of this news
because now, he was not sure if he could leave Faramir if his wife bid
him to do it. Though, Arwen had stated very clearly how she felt already,
nevertheless, he wanted to be sure and for that he would talk to her
as soon as they were back at the castle. He only hoped she would understand
for he could not live without her either.
Faramir was staring back at him, waiting, saying nothing,
but blushing prettily. It was clear he was unaccustomed to praises,
even more if said praises were about his beauty.
"Faramir, what do you expect of the Ritual," asked
suddenly Aragorn.
Faramir was taken by surprise by the sudden change in subject,
his face reddening anew by the thoughts the question aroused. "I...,"
he started to say, lowering his eyes. "I do not feel comfortable
talking about it... could we please talk of something else?" asked
Faramir with pleading eyes full of embarrassment.
"I want to know, Faramir, and though I said you could
not answer the questions you felt uncomfortable with, I would prefer
if you answer me this one time. I will understand if you do not but
I really want to know what you think of this, I do not want to hurt
you more than necessary."
At this Faramir immediately replied. "I know you would
not hurt me Aragorn, I trust you completely, I trust you with my life."
"I hold you to that, Faramir, please remember that the
night of the Ritual, no m... " Aragorn could say no more for he
felt the power of the spell preventing him from say to Faramir something
more. It was most unsettling. He wanted to say to the young man he could
trust in him, no matter what. He did not want Faramir to think that
he, Aragorn, had betrayed him, after promising he would be safe at his
side. He wanted to tell Faramir many things.
"What? Aragorn?" asked the young man, seeing the
odd expression on his King face.
"Nothing. It is nothing. We must go back, it is late
and I am sure the guards are wondering about our whereabouts by now.
Besides, it is well past mid day and you have skipped your lunch, though
this time I am the only one to blame," said Aragorn trying to lighten
the mood. Faramir did not want to answer his question and he would not
push the young man to do so either.
Aragorn raised himself and extended a hand to help Faramir
sit up as well. They went to where the horses were lazing and mounted
them to find their way to the castle. The slowly rode their way back
and none had said a word, each one immersed in his own thoughts.
In the end was Faramir who broke the silence. "I am
afraid," he said quietly.
Aragorn almost missed the quietly said words, deep in his
thoughts as he was. He looked at Faramir, waiting for the young man
to say more, though he knew what his Steward was referring to.
"I am afraid the Ritual would declare me not worthy
of the duty of being your Steward," continued Faramir looking sideways
to Aragorn. "That would mean I would die right there and though
I do not fear death I do not want to be away from you... so soon."
"You will be declared worthy Faramir, of that I have
no doubt," assured Aragorn to his Steward.
They rode in silence some more and again Faramir was the
one who broke the silence. "I fear..." he started to say,
very much uncomfortable than before. "I fear the act itself and
I am ashamed to concede such," finished the young man looking at
his hands holding the reins of his horse.
"You have nothing to feel ashamed of, Faramir, it is
only natural to feel that way. Someday I will tell you of my first time
and you will laugh of how nervous I was then," said Aragorn, chuckling
at seeing the wide-eyed expression on Faramir's face.
Faramir was reassured by Aragorn's answer and most surprised
by what he said after that. He looked at Aragorn with what must be a
very comic expression and then smiled and nodded to himself. "You
certainly knows how to lighten the mood, I concede you that, my King,"
finished Faramir, bowing as far as he could in his riding position.
This time Aragorn did not protest the use of his title for
it was used in jest. He thought to himself that underneath all the sadness
and shyness laid a frustrated little devil that he would be delighted
to help in coming out.
Aragorn started to sing an old Gondorian tune and Faramir
bestowed upon him one of his most beautiful laughs and then joined him
in the song. That way they crossed the city gates, merrily singing.
Moreover, the guards were more stunned.
From a balcony, Arwen secretly smiled.
Later that same day Aragorn approached his Elven princess
and invited her for a walk in the gardens, after they had dinner.
"The stars shine beautifully, The Mariner sails high
in the sky, his light brighter than other nights. Father must be happy."
"When does he sails for Valinor?" asked Aragorn.
"Within a month, he will be one of the last to sail,
along with Glorfindel, Erestor and my brothers."
Aragorn did not say anything for a while for he knew this
was a sad topic of conversation for Arwen. They walked in companionable
silence for a little more and came to the same bench he had been with
Faramir. They sat, side by side, their arms intertwined.
"You had a good time with Faramir today, I could gather
that much from the way you two were singing your lungs out," said
Arwen, giggling at Aragorn expression.
"Did you hear us?" asked Aragorn, somewhat surprised.
"Elven hearing, beloved. Though decreasing by the passing
days to adjust to a mortal level, it is sharp still," answered
Arwen, laughing merrily.
No matter what, thought Aragorn, Arwen always had the upper
hand and he loved her for it even more. Life with Arwen would never
be boring. "I enjoyed my day with Faramir," said Aragorn at
last, "he has a beautiful soul and has suffered much."
"He deserves to be happy Aragorn," said Arwen,
"he already loves you, are you aware of that?"
Aragorn looked at Arwen for the longest time. "Yes,
you can say that he feels something for me that is not only friendship.
He is loyal and... "
"No Aragorn," said Arwen, interrupting him. "He.
Loves. You," she repeated. "Trust Elven intuition, that I
will never lose. Blame it on you saving his life; or maybe he had a
glimpse of your beautiful soul when you drew him back from death; or
it was simple love at first sight. He loves you and it is not gratefulness,
if that is were you thinking. It is love. Moreover, I can see you have
started to care deeply for him as well, if not even love him, I dare
say. You know what I think of this Aragorn, you know what Elves think
of love. Do not deny him, do not shield yourself on mortal customs,
do not sacrifice him for petty laws," finished Arwen.
"But... I will not help but to feel guilt every time
I am with him for I will not be with you, and I am afraid the opposite
would someday happen as well. I do not want to feel guilt when I am
with you. I feel I cannot have you both, my love," answered Aragorn.
When he had been with Faramir at the waterfall all was clear for him,
he was sure he wanted Faramir, he wanted to keep him and not only as
a friend. But now, nothing seemed as easy as it had in that moment.
"You can have us both on our own time. We have each,
our own chores. I am your Elven Queen, I am your nexus with what is
left of the Elven Realm, and I will be the mother of your children.
He is your Steward, he is your nexus with your heritage, your people,
he is your most trusted ally and will be your most trusted friend. Heed
my word Aragorn, for what I say is true."
"Yes beloved, but you are my most trusted friend already,"
answered Aragorn.
"I concede you that but give it time, he will be 'one'
of your most trusted friends. Both of us will mean love for you. It
is good to have some from where to choose, don't you think?" asked
Arwen, trying to stifle her giggles.
"You are incorrigible and I like it when you giggle
like that, and yes, I concede you that I care deeply for Faramir, you
are wise and know me better than I know myself, my Queen." said
Aragorn, placing a gentle kiss on Arwen's cheek. He then, placed another
light kiss on her lips. "I guess we should go to bed, ''don't you
think?''" he continued in a seductive voice.
"I think..." she answered, placing a finger on
his cheek as though thinking about it.
Aragorn tugged at one fine strand of her raven hair.
Arwen laughed with mirth.
"... that yes, we must."
"You better, my lady, you better."
And they made their way back to their rooms, to greet properly
the night.
PART FIVE. Rebellious.
Faramir felt as though he was floating on a cloud. He entered
his room and went straight to the balcony to watch Ithil that was surely
full and high in the sky by now. He gripped the rail of the balcony
and took a deep breath; the night was fresh, it seemed it was raining
somewhere, the wind bringing sweet fragrances through the air. He was
very happy. He had not been this happy for a very long time.
He did not have dinner in his rooms as he preferred in the
morning at breakfast time. This time, he felt as though he could face
everything life threw his way. He went to have dinner in the King's
private dinning hall. Aragorn had said to him when they arrived at the
castle's gates that he would make sure his Steward would have the proper
nourishment for said Steward was too pale still for his liking.
Thus, he had gone to have dinner, as was usual for the Steward
of the Realm, at the King's table. The evening passed happily in good
conversation, jokes and anecdotes from Aragorn's friends. Prince Legolas
and Gimli did not stop bantering amicably between each other and he
became aware of the very devilish nature of the Queen. She and Aragorn
laughed much at the expense of one very funny childhood story by Prince
Legolas. Another thing that did not bypass his attention was how much
Éowyn and he had in common. They, Éowyn and he, spent the rest of the
evening talking about everything, jumping from one topic to another
with the ease of ones who had known themselves from time ago, though
they had just barely met one or two times during their recovery in the
houses of healing. Lady Éowyn had a wicked streak as well. Life in Gondor
would never be the same. And this was good, very good.
The next day Faramir woke up early to talk to the captains
before they went on patrol. Though these were times of peace, the enemy
being defeated, there were still bands of renegade Orcs dispersed all
over the land who endangered the life of the travelers.
When he arrived at the barracks the men were ready to depart
within the hour. He approached Beregond, one of his most trusted captains
and asked about the situation.
"We are going to the River's borders, Captain Faramir.
Last night, the troops encountered a large band of Orcs, there were
two wounded among the men," finished Beregond informing Faramir
of the situation at hand.
The slight discomfort his Captain was in did not escape the
Steward’s eyes. "Why was not I informed of this?" asked
Faramir in an icy tone.
"I personally informed the King last night about this
situation, as soon as Tanalcar gave me his report. The King gave me
his approval for this morning scout," answered Beregond, knowing
well that his Captain would see through his side stepping.
Beregond was increasingly nervous for he knew Captain Faramir's
temper very well, and though the Captain was not quick to anger for
any reason, he certainly knew how to make things clear when something
bothered him.
"You still have not answered my question, Beregond,"
said Faramir.
"My Captain, you are recovering still and...,"
"And who decided that I was not well enough to attend
my duties? Was it you Beregond? Or was it Tanalcar?" asked Faramir,
his anger climbing higher with each passing moment.
The men waiting in the barracks for further instructions
were relieved not to be in Beregond shoes. They all loved their Captain,
for he was the kindest they had known. They knew Captain Faramir never
angered without a very good reason.
"No my Captain, it... it was very late and we did not
want to disturb you," said Beregond in the end.
"You did not want to disturb me," repeated Faramir,
not so understanding as Beregond wanted him to be. "You did not
want to disturb me, you say? But it was, no doubt, better to disturb
the King at...what time did you say the troop came back?"
"Eleven, my Captain," answered Beregond, feeling
more cornered by the moment. He knew all would come to this, he knew
it and had said so to the King but the King would not listen. The King
had not certainly faced Faramir's anger yet, for if he would only know...
"Then Beregond," continued Faramir with an icy
and controlled voice. He certainly would not be more intimidating if
he had shouted his rage at the top of his lungs, "it is well to
disturb the King, and the Queen for that matter, at eleven in the night,
but it is not so for the Steward of the Realm, the one who is in charge
of the security to certainly spare the King unnecessary nuisances, such
as a filthy band of Orcs roaming our borders?" asked Faramir, waiting
for his Captain to answer.
"Forgive me my Captain but the King ordered us to inform
him of this type of thing no matter what hour, day or night," answered
Beregond, hoping this would appease his Captain. The King had certainly
not prohibited him from telling Captain Faramir of his orders but Beregond
knew it was better not to tell his Captain about it anyway.
Faramir, for his part, started to sense this would lead to
nothing good. He saw the nervous look Beregond was giving him and he
knew this Captain had never flinched under a reprimand. Not even once.
He complied with orders to the letter and accepted the consequences
of his errors without even batting an eyelash. This discomfort indicated
something else for sure and his intuition was showing him something
he did not like at all.
"The King ordered you to inform him," said Faramir
at last and then added, "and what did he say about informing 'me'
about this 'type of thing'?" asked Faramir, unable to help himself
from throwing back Beregond's own words.
Beregond lowered his gaze at this, he felt ashamed at having
lied to his Captain, and he would not lie for omission anymore. "Captain...
The King ordered me to... he ordered me not to inform you yet of things
concerning fights in the field. He said you were recovering still and
that he wanted you in all your capacity if anything came to happen.
Faramir was speechless. He looked Beregond straight in the
eye and saw nothing but concern there. Concern for his well being. Nevertheless,
he could not help but feel the all-consuming rage he was feeling now.
He realized Beregond was waiting for an answer, he could feel at his
back the eyes of the men who witnessed this uncomfortable situation
and along with the rage came the chagrin.
He had obeyed orders all his life. He had been ordered to
heed the protocol proper of his station, to be someone he did not want
to be, to do his duty even if it meant to walk willingly to his own
death. All this had been ordered on his face, the orders had been given
to him and him alone, and he had complied with every one of them, because
that had been his decision.
Now, for the first time in his life, he was ordered without
him being there. A decision that concerned him was made without him
being there. A choice was taken from his hands. The choice to fight,
to do his duty. It did not matter that it was the King who took this
decision away, it did not matter that it was the very person to whom
he, the Steward of Gondor, had to submit. This had never been done to
him.
He thought but for a moment that he was not brought from
death to this. He wanted things to change but not this way, not this
much. Was this how it was going to be from now on? He thought no more,
blinding rage taking the decision for him.
"Prepare my horse," he said in a loud voice, the
men behind him understanding his order was to be followed without delay,
"and you Beregond, you will stay here, for this day you will not
be on duty, you can say that to the King," and saying this he left,
leaving a very worried Beregond behind.
Aragorn was bored. Were these the important things the Council
wanted to talk about? At this pace, he would have to do it all! The
Council as it was now seemed a decorating thing. He would have to make
changes because he certainly would not pass the rest of his days restrained
to his office.
A knock on the door interrupted the senseless exposition
about two farmers' fight over who had the right to sell the crop where.
A guard opened the door to reveal a not so content Captain Beregond.
"I have to talk to you Sire, about the orders you gave
me," said Captain Beregond without entering the Council room.
Aragorn understood at once. "I am afraid we will have
to continue this meeting in the afternoon, some things await my assistance
without delay," the Council men started to speak all at the same
time until Aragorn losing his patience said, "if you are incapable
of dealing with these simple things on your own, you certainly are not
apt to be on this Council for is it not your work to give me advice
and not ask 'my' opinion on these matters? If this is so then I will
take the decisions all by myself and leave you go on your merry way,"
he finished, leaving the room and a very nonplused Council behind.
The councilors, all men past their prime, Galen included,
were speechless. This was unheard of, the Council had always been treated
with utmost respect.
Aragorn bade Beregond to accompany him to his office. There,
he thought, he would be able to calm down, though he worried about the
fact that Beregond's face did not bode good news, besides Captain Beregond
was supposed to be with the patrol leaving for the borders. They walked
in silence until they reached the King's office, a guard opened the
door for them.
"Well Beregond, tell me what news you have," said
Aragorn, sitting at his desk, placing his arms on the wooden surface,
fingers intertwined. He looked at the Captain, bidding him to speak.
"My King... I do not know how to say this, I just hope
you forgive me for my incompetence," said Beregond, staring right
at his King's eyes. "Captain Faramir went to the barracks and realized
that we were preparing for a scouting. He asked me why he was not informed
about this and I really tried to side step him, Sire, but I never have
lied to my Captain and as the King did not prohibit me from commenting
about his orders... Sire, I told him about your orders," finished
Beregond, preparing himself for everything, even the divestment of his
rank.
Aragorn closed his eyes and thought this day was turning
better and better with every passing hour. He lifted his gaze to ask
the Captain. "What did he say?"
"Sire, I have known Captain Faramir all my life and
have seen him angered very few times, each one of them... Well, one
can say one does not want to be at the receiving end of Captain Faramir's
anger, Sire. However, I have never seen him as angered as I saw him
today. In few words, he asked me who had taken the decision of not informing
him of the scout, he said that he was the Steward of the Realm, and
as soon as I told him whose orders were... He suspended me for the rest
of the day and asked for his horse. He left with the scout, taking my
place."
"WHAT? Are you saying to me that Faramir went to chase
a very dangerous and very large band of Orcs in his condition? Why did
not anyone inform me of this? Why did not anyone stop him for that matter?"
asked Aragorn, leaping from his chair and circling the desk to see the
Captain face to face.
Captain Beregond certainly thought this was one of the worst
days of his life. He did not know what was worse, the King's wrath or
Captain Faramir's. Then, he thought it did not matter, because the important
thing here was that he was in the middle of it. He wanted this day to
end before 'it' ended him first.
"My King, with all due respect, nobody would have dared
to stop Captain Faramir from doing anything. You see, he is a kind soul,
each one of the men in his charge respects him and loves him for his
braveness and kindness, me included, and not few owe their lives to
him. We would never dare to oppose Captain Faramir as we would never
dare to oppose the King. Please Sire, do not put me again in this position,"
asked Beregond. "Though I owe my allegiance first to you, my King,
I owe my obedience and friendship to Captain Faramir as well."
Aragorn calmed, somehow, during the Captain's explanation.
He realized now he had made a grave mistake in not telling Faramir of
his decision. He was sure now that if he had told Faramir of this, the
young man would have complied. Or so he hoped. Now, due to his own stupidity
and carelessness, Faramir was out there, enraged, thinking who knows
what of all of this. Of him.
"It is fine, Beregond. The fault was mine, I should
have talked to him first. Please, inform me of any news, I will be in
the Council room. If anything happens do not hesitate to interrupt,"
and with this Aragorn dismissed the Captain.
Aragorn sat at his desk again, and a headache started to
press behind his eyelids. Now that he came to think of it, Faramir would
be prone to see this as a lack of confidence in him. As though he would
try to divest him of his duties as a Steward. He started to caress his
temples and decided to cancel the Council meeting for the afternoon.
He would not pay any attention to it anyway, being this worried. He
felt a heavy load in his heart and realized he was in love with Faramir,
and that he would grieve greatly if anything happened to the young man.
A knock on the door interrupted his dark thoughts. "Enter,"
he said.
Galen entered the office a grave expression on his face.
"I gather you know the news, Sire?" asked the councilor.
"What news would those be?" asked Aragorn in return,
he was not in the mood for one of Galen's lectures. He pinched between
his fingers the bridge of his knows.
"Faramir has gone with the patrol Sire. Do you realize
the Crowning Ceremony will take place two days from today and that if
he is not present, he would..."
"If he is not present, Galen," interrupted Aragorn,
"then we delay the ceremony, we will delay it another week if necessary.
If he arrives next year, the ceremony will take place then, is that
understood or will I have to repeat myself?" finished Aragorn,
his gaze betraying how cold he felt inside right now.
Galen bowed and left the office. He realized this was not
the moment to speak to the King.
The King was left alone once more, guilt heavy in his heart.
The patrol had ridden non-stop for three hours and during
that time, Faramir’s thoughts were consumed alternatively in anger
and guilt. Anger for being cast aside like he was and guilt of having
disobeyed a direct order from the King. Then anger took the major part
of it when he thought about the whole thing again and decided that the
order was not given to him at all. No, he was side stepped.
''You are brave, Faramir'', he said, ''You are a great warrior'',
he said, ''You are worthy'', he said. But what does he do? Put me to
shame in front of my men. That he does. These were Faramir's thoughts
all along the bright day that seemed to mock his dark state of mind.
Faramir rode harder, his pace indicating his mood. The faster
he rode, the angrier he was. The men under his command had never wished
so much to encounter Orcs on their way. At least, that way their Captain
would vent his anger on the vile creatures. They thought, anyway, that
their Captain was more than capable, wound recovered or not. They had
seen him battle fiercely with fresh wounds gracing his body, they did
not doubt Captain Faramir was capable of handling this situation.
Meanwhile, Faramir was oblivious to his men’s stares
and thoughts for he was immersed in his own.
Then, right ahead, they encountered what they were looking
for and with a cry of war, he bade his men to advance.
"I concede about the part of your own stupidity beloved,"
said Arwen, trying to appease her husband for the umpteenth time and
failing on purpose.
The King and his Queen were in the Royal chambers. Faramir
had been gone the whole day and Aragorn was beyond himself. He could
not sleep and so he thought his Queen should not do so either.
"If you want to comfort me, my love, you are not getting
the work done at all," said Aragorn, in a way most unbecoming of
a King.
"That is the point beloved," answered Arwen, "that
way, you will think twice before you meddle like that again. I take
the opportunity to warn you that if you ever do anything of the like
to me, you will certainly be sorry," she continued in the sweetest
tone of voice.
"Oh Valar! I foresee the two of you will be the death
of me," said Aragorn.
"Please, love..."
Arwen did not get to say what she was going to say, for a
knock on the door interrupted her.
Aragorn was out of the bed in no time and grabbing his robe,
went to answer the door. He was sure that at this late hour of the night
it had to be news about Faramir. His heart wanted to escape his chest,
he just prayed to the Valar and all his ancestors that Faramir would
be fine.
"What news do you have?" asked Aragorn for it was
Beregond at the door.
"They have returned, my King, Captain Faramir is unwounded
but he is at the houses of healing for three men have injuries and one
died in the fight," informed Beregond to Aragorn.
"Thanks Beregond, inform Faramir I expect him in my
office at once, tell him to enter the office if I have not arrived,
and then take a rest, it seems you need it," answered Aragorn.
He felt his soul had flown from his body and return. He went back into
the room and changed into comfortable clothes. He then exited the chambers
and headed to his office to face Faramir, not before hearing a ''good
luck'' from his Queen.
PART SIX. Apologies
and Confessions.
On the way to his office, he thought about how he would apologize
to the young man and if Faramir would accept his apologies in return.
He arrived at the office door, a guard was already posted there and
opened the door for him, saying that Faramir was already inside, waiting
for him. Aragorn took a deep breath and entered the room only to be
left rooted in the spot.
There he was, beside his desk, the Steward of Gondor, as
he had never seen him before. The young man he knew until now was nowhere
to be seen. In his stead, was this man with a hard stare, covered all
over in Orc's blood. His sweet Faramir was gone and he realized he wanted
this Faramir as much as the other one. A sudden rush of blood went to
inconvenient parts of his body, he wanted to possess the man in front
of him but he restrained himself out of sheer willpower. Certainly,
this was not the moment to be aroused.
"Does the King want me to give him a report?" asked
Faramir, bowing his head stiffly.
Aragorn had been willing to apologize, to plead with the
young man if it was necessary but Faramir's words, spoken in such a
way, inflamed an anger he had not realized he possessed. "You disobeyed
my orders," he said instead, with a restrained voice.
"If the King remembers, he did not talk to me at all.
He gave the order to a third party," answered the Steward with
controlled rage.
"If you are not aware of that already, let me remind
you that you are still recovering from your injury, you put your life
in unnecessary danger today and stop addressing me in third person,
you well know I asked of you to call me by name," stated Aragorn,
his tone of voice increasing in volume each time.
Faramir on the other hand kept his voice soft, colder than
ice and more impressing than any shout he could give. "I can take
care of myself very well Sire, I have been doing so all my life,"
he said, ignoring Aragorn's petition to call him by name, keeping the
impersonal stance.
"But it seems that you are still learning to do what
it's that is expected from you," said Aragorn and regretted his
words the moment they came out of his mouth. He felt as though he was
a spectator of his own actions. He wanted to stop this bantering, he
was cornering Faramir, he knew he was being unfair, that it was his
fear of losing him which spoke right now. Nonetheless, he still could
not find it in himself to stop from being unjust.
This was the last straw for Faramir. He felt something give
in deep inside, the dull pain in his shoulder increased to higher levels.
With the hard restraint on himself lost, he forgot who was in front
of him, he could only see life repeating itself once more.
Orders.
That was all that was expected of him. To follow orders without
question. To comply with everyone's whims. He could not keep going on
like this. He would not. Just for an instant he wondered how one could
pass from total happiness to total despair.
"I am a loyal servant of Gondor, you did not give me
that order but went behind my back and put me in shame in front of my
men. You treated me as one would treat an infant who is fixed in a caprice
and had to be side stepped in order to not hurt his feelings,"
shouted Faramir, taking two steps forward, enraged beyond any possibility
of returning to his senses, titles forgotten, all forgotten, all that
mattered was that he would not endure being ignored anymore.
Aragorn was left speechless. Faramir was unrecognizable.
He realized he had pushed the young man too far. He had let his feelings
rule over the whole situation and what would have ended with a little
of understanding, was now out of control.
"I will not be an ornamental Steward. I will not be
a thing to move this way and that for I prefer to die to living that
way, to be dishonored," continued Faramir.
Aragorn grew alarmed at the mention of death and he knew
then that if he wanted to straighten out this situation, Faramir would
not let him do it easily. It seemed he would be reduced to pleading
after all, and right now, he really did not care. All his anger was
gone, and he realized it had been unfounded. Faramir was right about
everything, though he would have preferred the young man to confront
him instead of going out as he did.
"Faramir...," Aragorn started to say but the Steward
did not let him continue.
"Or maybe you thought I would be your whore, to do with
me as you please, to order me around as you please," Faramir lowered
the volume of his voice and advanced two more steps. He was now at arms
reach from the King.
"NO! Faramir, listen to me... " tried Aragorn once
more, without success.
"I know very well I have to submit to you in the Ritual
Ceremony. I know you will... ''use'' me, but that does not mean you
could do it again after all is over."
Faramir took a pause, Aragorn could see there was a crack
in the hard facade and he took the opportunity without delay. He cut
the distance between them and took the young man in his arms, hugging
him tight. "Forgive me, forgive me, please, I was blinded by my
worry for you and then by my anger and fear of losing you to my own
stupidity. Could you find it in yourself to forgive me? I will do anything
you ask of me," pleaded Aragorn, hugging the young man tighter
for Faramir was trying to loosen himself from the embrace.
From the start, Faramir's anger had fuelled his fighting
stance. He had kept himself away from Aragorn for he knew any contact
with the King would appease him, he did not want to hear him for he
knew the words would weaken him and he did not want to yield in this
matter. Now, all was lost, in an instant, with a touch, with a gesture
and a few words, all his anger was gone. He knew, nonetheless, he had
been right to get angry because the treatment he had been subjected
to had been unfair. Now, hearing Aragorn's reasons, he faltered, though
he did not fall altogether.
"He insulted me, he mocked me and demeaned me, every
chance he got, my father," started to say Faramir, stopping from
fighting off Aragorn's embrace but still, not returning it. "I
grew up accustomed to his apathy. I expected it from him," he continued,
"but I did not expect anything of the like from you," he finished.
He felt his reserve had found its end, the wound on his shoulder seemed
to come to life. He felt exhausted beyond endurance now that his anger
was consumed, along with his force it seemed.
Aragorn let go of Faramir and gripped him by his arms. "Please,
do not compare me with your father, ever. I acted out of fear and eagerness
to protect you. I realize now, I acted wrong, and though my intention
meant no harm, I did you a grave one. I only hope you could forgive
me for my foolishness and be patient with me in the future for I tend
to be a little overprotective of the ones I love." Aragorn waited
for Faramir's response, be it forgiveness or scorn.
''The ones I love'', this was the only thing that remained
in Faramir's mind after all that Aragorn had said. Little by little,
warmth was returning to his body. This, he could understand, for every
time Boromir went into battle, he feared for his brother. And when fighting
together, they assured themselves to take care of each other's back.
Yes, Faramir thought, this he could understand. And forgive. He looked
at Aragorn and saw sincerity in his face.
Faramir tried to say something but he found out he could
not. He felt suddenly very weak and he would have slid down to the floor
if Aragorn were not holding him. He tried to raise his arms to take
anchor in Aragorn's but it seemed his body could not respond his commands,
he saw Aragorn's mouth moving as though saying something to him but
he did not hear him, he tried to listen but he could not.
Aragorn's fear of Faramir's rejection turned into deep concern
when the young man's body seemed to falter in his hands. He tried to
gain Faramir's attention but the Steward only looked at him, a dazed
expression on his face. And suddenly, the young man went limp, his body
collapsing against his own chest.
"FARAMIR!" Aragorn did not lose any time and lifted
Faramir in his arms, calling to the guard outside to open the door for
him. This time he was grateful for the constant and annoying guard posted
everywhere he went.
The guard entered the office as soon as the King called for
him. The sight that greeted him stunned him. The King was holding Captain
Faramir's unconscious form in his arms. He almost asked what had happened
but restrained himself in time.
"Is healer Varan at the houses of healing?" asked
Aragorn.
"No Sire, healer Ranya is the one attending the wounded,"
answered the guard.
"Find Varan, tell him to go to Faramir's rooms at once!"
After giving the guard the order, he headed toward the young man's chambers.
He arrived soon and let Faramir down, holding him against his body in
order to open the door to the chambers.
Aragorn entered Faramir's rooms with the young man in his
arms for the second time in less than a week. He placed the Steward
of Gondor on his bed, the lax form sticking out of the white linen sheets.
Faramir still wore his armor, his entire form covered in Orc's blood
and what might be his men's. Aragorn started to take off the bloodied
items to be able to assess Faramir's condition, Beregond had said that
Faramir was unharmed. Why this then? He asked to himself. After taking
off the last of Faramir's clothes, he looked for something he could
use to clean the vile mess off the young man's body but in the end he
decided to use Faramir's shirt. He ripped the fabric to use the part
that was clean, wetting it in the water from a basin he found ready
in the young man's rooms. He sat at the edge of the bed beside Faramir's
unconscious form to start his task.
Aragorn's thoughts started to fill with guilt for he, surely,
had great responsibility in this that had happened. A rushed decision
had led to this. Faramir could have died in the field, he could have
died thinking he, Aragorn, did not care about him, that all he had said
was a lie.
He finished cleaning Faramir's body the best he could and
found no physical reason for the young man's collapse, he was miraculously
without a scratch, and it seemed the reason of his collapse was mere
exhaustion. He placed his hand on the young man's forehead and focussed
his mind on Faramir. He realized the young man was sleeping. He wanted
Varan to check on him, anyway, because certainly the wound Faramir had
received at the hands of the Nazgûl played a part in this as well. Aragorn
was sure the wound had to be annoying Faramir. Sure now that the young
man was not in imminent danger, he let his thoughts go stray to different
matters.
Aragorn watched Faramir's body and found the young man had
a beautiful figure. He did not have a heavy complexion, his figure was
rather slim, every muscle marked just the perfect amount. His skin was
very fair, it was perfect except for a few scars marring the beauty
of it. This testified what a good warrior Faramir was because being
so all his life and having faced many battles, his body was almost unmarked.
He reached out to caress Faramir's skin and placed his hand on the man's
side, his arm across the young man's belly. He could feel the even rise
and fall of Faramir's breathing all the way through his arm, he slid
his hand downward and finally halted on Faramir's hip. Aragorn closed
his eyes and slowly withdrew his hand, restraining himself with the
power of his will. He was certainly lost. He wrapped the sheets around
the young man's body before testing his own limits further. A knock
on the door startled him and he went to open it.
"Varan, you took your time," said Aragorn, making
room for the healer to enter.
"Sire," said Varan, bowing his head. "I detoured
to the houses of healing to bring what I thought I would need,"
he continued, his tone of voice not a happy one. "What happened
Sire?"
"He went with the patrol this morning... No, yesterday
morning," corrected Aragorn realizing that they were now in the
next day, "and he arrived an hour or so ago. We were at my office
and... we had an argument. He was well and suddenly he just collapsed.
I brought him here and cleaned him as best as I could for he was all
covered in Orc's blood. He seems only to be exhausted," finished
Aragorn to explain to the healer.
Varan went to the bed and took some minutes to assess Faramir's
state. He then turn around and asked the King. "Why did you not
take him to the houses of healing?"
"There are wounded soldiers from yesterday's patrol.
The patrol encountered Orcs on the way, and one of the men died in the
fight. I did not want him to be there taking into account his emotional
state," answered Aragorn.
"Emotional state?" asked Varan. "What emotional
state is that?" The healer had a very good idea of what had happened
but he could not help but take the opportunity to bother the King. Faramir
did not need someone else taking the role of the young man's dead father.
He had suffered enough, all were aware of this.
"As I said, we had an argument," answered Aragorn
defensively. "Have you finished?" he added, eager to get rid
of the impertinent healer.
"Yes Sire, just let him have his rest. No more arguments,"
said the healer and then exited the room.
Aragorn approached the bed once more and found deep grey
eyes staring right at him. He drew near and very slowly sat on the bed.
"How are you feeling?" he asked softly.
"Tired," came the quiet reply. "I am sorry,"
said Faramir after some moments.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Faramir. The blame
falls all on me," said Aragorn, reaching out and taking Faramir's
right hand between both of his. He drew the fair hand to his lips, kissed
it tenderly and placed it against his own heart.
Faramir closed his eyes, he was beginning to feel the full
force of what he had dared to do. "I said awful things, unforgivable
things..."
"You were beautiful in your rage," interrupted
him Aragorn. "When I saw you standing there, in the middle of my
office, your stare hard and fierce, your figure all covered in blood
from the fight, I desired you. I do not know from where I drew force
to restrain myself to not take you right then and there," said
Aragorn, squeezing Faramir's hand tighter against his chest.
Faramir looked at Aragorn with a wide-eyed expression, he
was speechless. Aragorn had the power to surprise him every time. He
felt grateful for being already in bed for he was sure his knees would
not hold him straight if he was on his feet. Suddenly he took note of
his naked state under the sheets, an embarrassing red color started
to spread all over his face, for he realized too, that he was cleaner
than when he arrived, though the blood smell still clung to his body.
"Who... Who," he started to ask feeling very uncomfortable.
Aragorn knew immediately what the young man was trying to
ask and could not help but tease him a little more. "I carried
you here, took off your clothes and cleaned you myself, though you still
need a bath. I would help you with that but I am afraid you will not
do it until the Ritual, the temptation would be too great. Your body
is a feast to the eyes, my dear Steward," finished Aragorn, taking
delight in Faramir's increasing embarrassment.
"Please, Aragorn, you do not have to say such things,"
said Faramir, trying to get rid of his shamefulness.
"Oh, but you deserve the praises," teased Aragorn
a little bit more, "I will leave you to your rest now. Sleep, we
will talk later," he finished and exited Faramir's room, not without
first placing a kiss on the young man's forehead.
Faramir thought he would be unable to find sleep, but his
body had other ideas and he soon drifted into his much-needed rest.
Faramir woke well past mid day. He felt rested but his stomach
protested at being neglected. The Steward rose and took a bath, then
he changed into comfortable clothes, this day he would wear nothing
formal, and exiting his chambers went to the kitchens to have something
to eat. After having his snack he went to the houses of healing to inquire
about the state of health of the wounded in yesterday's patrol.
He entered the houses of healing and found out that Aragorn
was already there, talking to Varan. He unconsciously slowed his pace.
"My King," he bowed respectfully.
"Faramir," nodded Aragorn in return.
Varan stared suspiciously at both of them.
"Thanks Varan," said Aragorn to the healer, having
finished what they were discussing, "Faramir, after you finish
here, please join me in my office." He then, exited the houses
of healing leaving a worried Steward behind.
Faramir focussed on what he had intended in coming to the
houses of healing. He talked with Varan about the situation of the wounded
and thankfully, he thought, all were out of danger. He then talked with
each one of his men tarrying more than it was necessary. In the end
he started to leave the houses of healing and felt as though his heart
would come out of his chest. Every word of what he had said last night,
coming all too clear to his mind.
"He was beyond himself with worry, I'll have you know,"
said Varan to Faramir, startling him, for the young man had not realized
the healer had approached at his side, so enthralled was he in his own
thoughts. "Do not worry so, anything you would have said, he deserved
it," and with that, Varan left him to continue with his duties
in the houses of healing.
Faramir exited the houses of healing and went straight to
the King's office. When he arrived the guard opened the door for him
without announcing him, it seemed Aragorn had given him that order.
Faramir entered the room and found Aragorn behind the desk, checking
some papers. He saw that the Ritual Book was on the desk and tried to
remember if it had been there when they were talking last night.
"Take a seat Faramir, I will be with you in a moment,"
said Aragorn, signaling one of the two chairs in front of his desk.
Faramir sat, waiting for Aragorn to finish writing some notes
on a paper. He was very nervous, though Aragorn had stated that he had
nothing to be sorry for. He certainly felt he had been in all his right
to do what he did and despite the nervousness he felt now, he would
not go back on his words.
"Well, I am finished here," said Aragorn, putting
the papers aside and leaving his chair to sit in the chair beside Faramir.
He relocated it in a way that he would be facing the young man. "Sorry
to make you wait, someone will come for that letter later."
Faramir nodded, unconsciously straightening himself within
the chair. "Did you want to talk with me?" he asked finally,
opting to wait and see what Aragorn had to say.
"I wanted to tell you something and I do not want you
to interrupt me until I am finished," Aragorn waited for Faramir
to consent.
Faramir nodded, looking at Aragorn's beautiful grey eyes.
He would concentrate on the soothing color, for whatever Aragorn had
in store for him.
"I am aware that it must be very difficult for you to
submit to me in the way the Ritual requires. I would spare you of that
if I could, but as you well know, both of us are bound to do this. You,
because it would be your death and I, because, certainly I do not want
to lose you," said Aragorn.
Faramir's heart was pounding so hard he was afraid Aragorn
might hear it.
"I want to make something clear," continued Aragorn,
"you, under any case are obliged to do something you do not want
to do. I will never force you to do anything you do not want. If, after
the Ritual, you do not want to lie with me again, then you will not
have to," Aragorn did not miss Faramir's pleading gaze, he knew
the young man wanted to say something but he wanted to finish his speech
first.
"You have the right to protest when you deem it necessary.
You are not my slave to comply with every order without complaint. You
are entitled to give me your opinion, to disagree. What happened last
night I deserved it and when I am done with what I am saying, I do not
want to hear a sole apology, or regret. We are only discussing here,
the future, what would happen after the Ritual.
"I want you to consider what I am going to tell you,
I do not want you to feel obliged for it, if you do not feel the same
or something of the like, you can say no. Do you understand this, Faramir?"
asked Aragorn. He bent forward and took between his hands those of Faramir's
from where they rested, gripping the chair's arms. He waited for the
young man's reply.
Faramir nodded once more.
"I do not know when it happened, but yesterday's events
dissipated all the doubts I had about my feelings toward you. I wanted
to ride after the patrol. I guess I would have done just that if Arwen
had not convinced me of the contrary, she certainly pulled my ear yesterday,"
said Aragorn chuckling. He saw that he now had Faramir's undivided attention.
It seemed the young man expected something different and of more sinister
nature.
"I was worried beyond endurance, the possibility of
losing you crushing my heart. I love you Faramir, and I want to pursue
more than friendship with you. I want more of you after the Ritual.
If you agree, know that, if you want to pursue another interest I will
not be in your way. You have the right to build a family on your own
as well, I only ask you gift me with some of your love. What do you
say of this?" finished Aragorn, looking at Faramir's hands.
Faramir was speechless. Of all the things, he had not expected
this. He loved the King. He loved him from the moment Aragorn saved
him. And this he felt not out of gratitude. He did not know how to explain
it but something had connected between the two of them the day Aragorn
saved him. It was as though it were meant to be.
He retrieved one of his hands from where it laid between
Aragorn's own. He put it on his King's head and caressed a strand of
black silky hair, marveling at how soft it was. His hand soon found
Aragorn's face, and the King leaned into the touch. "I had loved
you from the first time, I felt your soul and it was as it caressed
mine. I lost myself to you without having even seen you. I agree to
this you propose for I would be lost without you," answered Faramir.
Aragorn raised them both from the chairs and embraced Faramir
tenderly. He smelled the fresh fragrance on Faramir's hair, remembering
that few hours ago the beautiful strands were matted with the enemy's
blood, and he took a deep breath to dispel the memory of it. He brushed
the strands out of Faramir's neck and placed a gentle kiss there. He
then took Faramir's head between his hands and kissed him deeply, he
kissed him until they were both breathless. Finally, they remained forehead
against forehead, savoring each other's closeness.
They spent the rest of the day together and in the evening,
they had another wonderful dinnertime. The next day though they barely
saw each other because more guests for Aragorn's crowning ceremony were
arriving. Faramir spent almost all day between Galen, seeing to the
ultimate details, and the guard, taking care of the security. He wanted
to be sure every detail was covered for the next day he would be cloistered
until the Ritual Ceremony.
When Faramir got to his rooms he was exhausted, so he changed
into sleeping robes and then slipped into bed. But despite all his exhaustion,
he could not sleep. He kept thinking about the event that would take
place the next day. He thought that by this same hour the Ritual would
have taken place. He chastised himself for being such a fool. He did
not fear death, then this was not the reason of his worries. He did
not fear pain for he was accustomed to it, he had learned to ride it,
to endure it. So far, he had admitted to Aragorn that he feared the
act itself.
Yes, though he loved Aragorn and trusted him with his life,
he felt uncomfortable thinking about the intimacy of the act; nobody
had touched him the way Aragorn would be touching him, nobody had seen
him as vulnerable as Aragorn would see him. He had lain with women countless
times and of course, he had been the one in control. He knew of the
basic procedure for two men to have sexual intercourse and though he
felt attracted to Aragorn beyond any thought, he still could not reconcile
his arousal with what was going to be done to him. He could not reconcile
his arousal with his own submission.
Faramir felt his heart pounding anew. He had accomplished
very well scaring himself senseless now. A soft knock on the door startled
him, he got out of bed and opened the door. And there it was, the object
of all his happiness and fears for the moment.
"Can I enter?" asked Aragorn.
Faramir nodded and Aragorn walked into the room. Faramir
closed the door and before he had time to turn around, he felt Aragorn
embracing him from behind.
"I love you, never doubt that, never," said Aragorn,
his tone desperate.
"Has something happened?" asked Faramir a little
worried, placing his hands over Aragorn's forearms and leaning into
the embrace.
"No, I just wanted to see how you were," answered
Aragorn, "I gather you have sleeping problems tonight?"
"You know me too well, my King," answered Faramir.
Aragorn was getting accustomed to Faramir jump from name
to title. He realized Faramir called him by name almost all the time,
but when they were as now, sharing their intimacy, Faramir reverted
to the ''King'' word, he uttered the title in such a way it seemed an
invitation to forbidden and wicked things. For that reason, he stopped
asking Faramir to call him by his name. He could see Faramir having
his way with him solely mentioning those words in the way Faramir had
unconsciously perfected in so little time. He guided the young man to
his bed and tucked him in as though he were a child and then sat on
the border of the bed.
"I am no child, you know?" stated Faramir, the
most loving expression on his face.
''Oh Valar,'' Aragorn thought, ''is that a pout? Does he
even realize what he is doing and the power he holds doing it?'' Aragorn
reaffirmed his thoughts. He was utterly lost.
"I know you are not," answered Aragorn with a wicked
smile, "I have seen you naked, remember?" He just could not
help it.
Faramir blushed in an instant... still pouting.
"Stop doing that," said Aragorn.
"Doing what?" asked Faramir, his expression changing
to one of surprise.
"Stop pouting or I will have my way with you now,"
answered Aragorn.
"I am NOT pouting!" said Faramir, indignation in
his voice.
"You ARE my dear Faramir and you look most edible,"
kept saying Aragorn.
"No, I am NOT!" He repeated, red to the tips of
his ears. It seemed nowadays the only thing he did was blush all the
time. It was most embarrassing.
"Yes, you ARE! Or do you dare to contradict your King?"
Silence for a moment.
And then laughs.
Faramir was laughing. Aragorn sighed at the sight of it.
"You did it again... Lightened the mood as you always
do," said Faramir turning on his side, to get more comfortable
on the bed, "thanks, I was all knots."
"You are welcome, I will leave you to your rest,"
said Aragorn placing a caress on the young man's head. He started to
rise from his sitting position on the bed.
Faramir grabbed Aragorn by the arm, making him sit again
and with a quiet voice he asked "Please stay? A little while?"
he lowered his gaze for he did not dare to face Aragorn, he was ashamed
with himself for being so childish.
Aragorn caressed the young man's head again, brushing strands
of hair out of his face. "You do not have to be ashamed of asking
my company, Faramir," said Aragorn taking in the blushed expression.
"Make room for me there," he added, starting to take off his
boots.
Faramir expression was very comic, Aragorn thought.
"I am tired as well, I will not be uncomfortable,"
stated Aragorn.
A wide-eyed Faramir pulled himself to the opposite border
and then Aragorn climbed in and gathered the still nonplused Steward
in his arms.
Though still a little bewildered, Faramir melted in the embrace
at once. He hugged Aragorn back and buried his face in his King's chest.
With a deep sigh, he started to drift off with the feel of soft caresses
on his hair.
"And I was not pouting," sounded a mumbled voice
in the silence of the room.
Aragorn kept up his sweet caress and soon the young man was
asleep in his arms. He extricated himself from the embrace and very
carefully arranged Faramir comfortably on the bed. He got out of the
bed, took his boots in his left hand and walked barefooted toward the
door. With his right hand on the doorknob, he hesitated and turned to
look at the man sleeping peacefully on the bed.
"Ah love, but you were," he whispered before opening
the door and exiting the room.
PART SEVEN. Readying.
Faramir woke up at first light in the morning. He had slept
straight through all the night without even waking up once. Aragorn
was gone. Faramir smiled to himself and stretched out, he had not slept
this well in a long time. His King definitely had a healing touch.
He suddenly remembered the entire ''pouting'' argument. He
flinched inside and put his two hands on his face, thinking he was reverting
to his adolescence. He got out of bed and spied through the window.
Today was going to be a bright day, the sun was shinning and no clouds
were visible on the horizon. He wished to take a walk but he could not
leave his rooms.
**On The day of the Ritual the Steward must be
cloistered in his rooms until a Councilor comes to retrieve him**
He wondered about the fact that Aragorn might be getting
ready for the Crowning Ceremony. He wished he would be able to see such
a magnificent act but he had to wait for whoever would retrieve him.
A knock on the door interrupted his reverie. He put on a
robe and went to answer the call.
"Galen," Faramir was surprised for surely the councilman
would not retrieve him so early.
"Faramir, you must come with me now," said Galen.
"Now?" repeated Faramir, his heart starting to
beat wildly in his chest.
"You must prepare," was Galen's only answer
**The Steward will be taken to the location where
he will stay until the time of the Ritual**
"Fine, let me change into..." started to
say Faramir.
"That will not be necessary," interrupted him Galen.
"But...," Faramir started to protest again but
seeing the futility of it, he complied and exited his room, following
Galen through the empty corridors.
Faramir realized they were heading to the part of the castle
that was most empty. He suddenly realized he was wearing no weapons
and felt uneasy. He never parted from his weapons. They kept walking
until they reached their destination; Galen stopped in front of a room
he knew had remained closed since Faramir had memory.
They entered the room and Faramir was surprised to see the
room was well furnished, even better than his own rooms. The room had
a bed with two bedside tables, four armchairs; two beside the chimney
in front of the bed and two more beside the luxurious curtain gracing
the entire front wall. Near the entrance was another door, which led
to a luxurious bathroom.
Galen went to one of the bedside tables and poured some liquid
from a jar into a glass. Then he went to Faramir and gave him the glass.
**The Steward will cleanse his body of any remaining
food and waste. He will not drink or eat anything during this process.
Only when the process is done will the Steward drink the Nourishment
specially prepared for this matter**
"You must drink this to empty your bowels,"
stated Galen.
Faramir took the glass, feeling embarrassed to no end. He
had not an idea what ''preparing'' would entail, but now he stared to
fear the whole situation would be humiliating. He drank the beverage
in one long gulp.
**A servant will bathe the Steward and shave all
the hair from his face. During and after this the Steward must not touch
himself until the Ritual is fulfilled**
"It will take effect within half an hour. A servant
woman will come at mid day to help you with your bath, I will accompany
her to give you further instructions," said Galen.
"I can certainly bathe myself without any help Galen!"
Said Faramir most indignant.
"Do I have to remind you that all that happens to you
today was written to be so a long time ago?" answered Galen, his
tone neutral.
Faramir averted his gaze and said nothing, trying to control
the impotence that he felt. It seemed the whole thing was about humiliation
after all. How fitting! Was he ever going to have a respite? He bitterly
wondered.
"I will leave you on your own now. You will find everything
you need in the bathroom. However, I warn you, you must not bathe under
any circumstance. The servant woman will take care of that," said
Galen turning to leave the room. The councilor halted at the door, "you
cannot leave this room, either, it is sealed, you can only leave here
in my company, and though I know you would never desert your duty, this
serves as well to not let anybody enter the room either," finished
Galen before exiting the room.
Faramir went to open the curtains. At least he could entertain
himself looking by the window. The Steward of Gondor was much surprised
when behind the curtains he encountered only walls. He brought down
the whole thing with one furious pull. What was the point of the curtain,
then? It seemed the whole situation was prepared to immerse him in despair.
Suddenly, he felt nauseous and barely had time to get to
the bathroom where he threw up all the contents of his stomach. Was
it not half an hour that Galen had said? He thought. He felt helpless
and was mortified to see the day had just started.
"Stop being worried, he will be fine," said Arwen
for the umpteenth time, walking to the window of their room.
Aragorn was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his
knees and hands on each side of his temples. "You do not know what
I will have to do to him, Arwen. I am afraid I may lose him for this,"
said Aragorn, looking even more worried, if that were possible.
"Is it that bad?" asked Arwen, leaving the window
to stand close to his husband.
Aragorn just closed his eyes, shaking his head from side
to side. Feeling the spell work its way to prevent him from revealing
what was not supposed to be known. He felt a lump in his throat and
his heart, as though something was squeezing it. He fought to get a
grip on himself but could not prevent a silent tear from falling down
his cheek.
Arwen sat by his side and embraced him tight.
A knock on the door startled them both. Aragorn let go of
Arwen’s comforting embrace and composing himself, bade the one
behind the door to enter.
A guard in full armor attire entered the room. "The
guard is ready for you my King," he said, bowing respectfully before
the regal figure.
Aragorn nodded in response and extended his right hand to
Arwen, which she promptly took. "Lead the way," said Aragorn
to the guard.
"It would be an honor Sire, my Lady," said the
guard, bowing again before the two figures who were dressed in the rich
garments designed for such an occasion.
The guard walked toward the door and opened it. In the hall
waited a full guard consisted of eight armored soldiers who took their
positions as soon as the royal couple exited the room.
Aragorn and Arwen walked behind the Herald of the Realm,
and the guard of eight followed them. Each guard a symbol of each one
of the N?en?ean Kings of Ancient Times.
Thus began the Crowning Ceremony of the King of Gondor.
Faramir had had an infelicitous morning. Now it was mid day
and he lay on the bed, back facing the door, feeling weak and miserable.
On top of it all, he was very thirsty and there was not a drop of water
to drink in the room, unless he wanted to drink the one destined for
his ''bath''. He wondered if that was done on purpose to weaken any
resolve and humiliate him further. He was waiting for the servant woman
and Galen to make their appearance. He was so exhausted that he even
did not have the strength to think about what lay ahead.
A noise at the door caught his attention and he turned his
head in time to see Galen and the servant entering the room. Galen had
a big package in his hands and the servant a plate with two jars and
a glass. He averted his gaze again and behaved as though there was nobody
in the room.
Galen left the package on one of the chairs beside the curtain.
He shook his head and decided that this was certainly taking a toll
on Faramir. He walked towards the bed and faced the apathetic Steward.
"Raise yourself Faramir, you must drink this," said the councilor,
offering a glass of water from the plate the servant had brought.
Faramir started to raise himself into a sitting position
and felt the room spin around. Galen quickly put the glass aside on
the bedside table and helped him lean comfortably against the headboard
of the bed. He then took the glass again and held it against Faramir's
lips.
Faramir drank greedily; he raised his hand to sustain the
glass by himself and realized he could not because his hand was trembling
badly. He had no choice but to accept Galen's help.
"I did not think you would be this weak, Faramir, though
we have to take into account that your body has sustained much strain
lately," said Galen, putting the glass aside for Faramir had drank
all its contents.
"What did you expect?" said Faramir with a furious
glare, "I am dehydrated!"
"It had to be that way, Faramir. You could not drink
or eat anything until your body was clean. This drink will replenish
your strength," said the councilor, pouring liquid from the other
jar on the plate.
Faramir drank the offered drink as well. "What is it?
It is sweet, I have never tasted this drink before," stated Faramir.
"It is a recipe specially prepared for this purpose,"
answered Galen. "Do you feel better??
Faramir raised a hand in front of his eyes and saw that it
had stopped trembling. He sat up on the edge of the bed and realized
that the room was not spinning anymore. "Yes," said Faramir
somewhat intrigued by such a sudden improvement, "I feel better
already," he stated.
"Well, then go with the servant and take your bath.
But first, hear what I will say," said Galen, "the servant
will clean your body. You are not allowed to touch yourself. She will
clean your private parts and you must let her do it. You can touch yourself
only after the Ritual is completed. Do you understand what I am saying?"
asked Galen.
Faramir expression revealed the shock he felt at that moment.
He had thought the servant would be helping him to bath, pouring the
water over him, washing his hair or something like that...but not this.
He felt all the color drain from his face. It was one thing to take
a bath with a woman who is your lover and from whom you would take with
pleasure any touch she would give. But it was another thing to feel
the impersonal touch of a stranger all over your body, doing tasks that
only you had done until the day. He closed his eyes and took a deep
breath to calm the rage he was starting to feel. It was futile to get
angry. He had agreed to be subjected to this, though certainly he did
not know the preparation's details. He opened his eyes and looked at
Galen.
"I understand," he answered.
"I will wait here and prepare your attire. Go now then,"
finished Galen.
Faramir followed the servant into the bathroom. He started
to take his sleeping robes off but the servant halted his hands with
her own, looking at him apologetically. He dropped his arms in defeat.
The servant took the outer robe and then bade him to raise
his arms to divest him from the sleeping gown. Faramir felt his entire
body turn a deep shade of red, yet again. He felt so ashamed. The servant,
then, placed a hand on his elbow and instructed him to walk towards
the tub into which he entered, first one leg and then the other. The
servant bade him to sit and Faramir did so, gripping the edges of the
tub during the entire ''bathing'' process, his knuckles white from the
effort he was taking to not jump at every touch. Only when the servant
asked for his hands to wash them and to clean and cut his nails, did
he let go of the edges, holding them again when she was done. She also
cleaned and cut the nails on his feet.
The servant washed his hair and shaved his beard, all of
it. At first, he thought the servant had made a mistake and he started
to protest but she gave him another apologetic look and he knew this
was part of it too. His beard, he would look like a child now! His beard
was for a reason! He gripped the edges of the tub harder, if that was
possible.
The woman emptied the tub and poured fresh water. She washed
his ears, his torso and his arms and then, bade him to sit up. He looked
hesitantly at her but did as she wanted in the end. She started to clean
his legs and Faramir closed his eyes trying to think of something else.
She then cleaned his private parts, thoroughly, and Faramir missed the
anchor the edges of the tub gave him.
More water was poured over him and then the woman bade him
to step out of the tub. She waited with a mantle in her hands, which
she used to dry his body. When she finished she left the mantle over
his shoulders and Faramir was relieved that at least this part of his
ordeal had ended. He took the edges of the mantle to wrap it around
his body and started to exit the bathroom but the servant indicated
him to walk towards a stool. It seemed this ordeal had not finished
yet after all.
**The Steward will be anointed with oil which
will be prepared as told in this Book**
She retrieved a bottle from the stool. The bottle contained
oil of some kind, Faramir realized, its fragrance somewhat sweet. The
servant approached him again and he, indeed, took a step back; he wished
that she was not going to do what he thought she was going to do. He
looked at the bottle in her hands and watched mesmerized as she took
the lid off and poured some of it in her hands. She motioned him to
let go of the protective mantle, which he reluctantly did.
Putting the oil bottle aside, she started to spread the oil
all over his body. His face, torso, arms, back, buttocks and legs. However,
she spared him what he dreaded the most. When she finished, Faramir
released a breath he did not know he was holding. He thought, when the
woman started to spread the oil on his body that he would feel clammy
but his skin seemed to have absorbed the oil. He motioned to recover
his mantle but the servant did not let him. Then the woman indicated
him to exit the bathroom.
Galen was waiting sitting on a chair. Faramir realized that
some garments and items were spread on the bed. He looked at the councilor
again, feeling his face redden with shame for he was unaccustomed to
men seeing him completely naked. He had been oblivious to it when he
was younger and he did not know about the duty he one day might accomplish.
But, since the day he was told about the tradition followed by the Steward
and Royal Lines and the nature of the test he might endure, he became
more and more aware of his body and did not like to expose himself in
the manner he was in now. The fact that Galen was a much older man did
help a little, but nevertheless, he could not help but try to cover
himself somehow.
"Do not touch yourself Faramir!" he was startled
by Galen's authoritative tone, preventing him from doing what his reflexes
told him to. The servant guided him to the other chair that was vacant
beside the fallen curtain. She started to methodically dry his hair
and when she finished took a brush and combed it, then she exited the
room.
"I will dress you now, Faramir," said Galen, motioned
him to sat up and get close to the bed where the garments awaited.
"Why am I not surprised?" muttered Faramir to himself,
sitting up and doing as Galen bade of him.
Galen took what seemed a long white loincloth, Faramir saw
that the thing had a fix clasp on one side and had a fitting set of
ring and clip on the other. Galen placed the cloth around his waist
and clasped the set, the cloth fell low on his hips. As it was, Faramir
thought, the thing would cover his front and buttocks if he remained
unmoving. He did not want to think what would happen when he walked
because the loincloth was open at both sides, all the way up to where
it rested on his hips. Then, he thought again, all this did not matter
for the cursed thing was such that it let nothing to the imagination.
His mortification was now complete.
Then, Galen motioned him to extend his arms at his sides.
The councilor helped him pass first one arm and then the other through
the sleeves of the blue long tunic. The tunic was open on the front,
left side wider than the other, and Galen clasped the left upper end
to his right shoulder with an ornamental clip. The tunic looked now
like a long robe. Galen retrieved a belt, which seemed to be made of
some kind of metal, and secured it around his waist.
The councilor retrieved from the bed a pair of items that
looked like thin manacles and put one on each of his wrists, a clicking
sound announcing that they were secured. Another set of the like was
secured on each one of his ankles. Faramir did not like the fact that
each one of the things had a kind of ring protruding from them, as though
to secure them to something else.
No footwear was provided.
Faramir was ready now. He suddenly realized that Aragorn
must be a Crown King by now for the ceremony had been in the morning.
Was now the final moment? It must be evening already.
**When the moment comes the Steward must follow
the Councilor to the Royal Chambers and when the Steward is at the King's
door he must knock three times**
"It is time, Faramir, you most follow me,"
said Galen.
Faramir's heart started to pound fiercely. He followed Galen
through the corridors toward the Royal Chambers.
They arrived at the King's chambers where two guards in full
armor were posted. He felt his face burn from embarrassment at being
in such robes and barefooted on top of it. Galen left him there and
then Faramir knocked as told, his heart pounding madly in his chest.
PART EIGHT. A Duty
and a Dire Task.
Aragorn was waiting in his rooms. He did not know how he
had endured the Crowning Ceremony, thinking all the time about the dire
task he would have to accomplish. He felt his heart pounding hard in
his chest for he knew that Faramir had to be on his way to the Royal
Chambers already. The young man would knock at the door at any moment.
Despite this knowledge, Aragorn could not help but flinch when the quiet
knocks sounded on the door.
"Enter," he said with a firmness he was not feeling
at all.
Faramir heard the permission and his heart started to beat
wildly in his chest. He hesitated for a moment at the King's door and
taking a deep breath, entered the room. The cold manacles and anklets
felt heavier than before. When Galen had secured the items on him he
had felt something odd run through his body and all the way to the King's
chambers he could feel how the items were draining the energy out of
him, though very slowly, almost unnoticeably. He wondered if he would
die this way, the magical items robbing him of his vital energy, if
he did not pass the test.
**The Steward must walk towards the King and kneel
in front of him saying the words stated in this Book. He must do this
keeping his gaze down. He will not raise his gaze to the King until
the Ritual is completed**
The young Steward paused in the threshold for the briefest
of moments and closed the door behind him, trying, to no avail, to calm
his beating heart. He started to walk towards the regal figure that
was sitting on a chair by the grand window decorating the room, Ithil's
light bathing the still form. He took in the surroundings. The chamber
was not luxurious but it felt warm and cozy, illuminated by the sole
light of a candle for Ithil's rays were enough at that hour. Faramir
gave a nervous glance to the bed and immediately averted his gaze, looking
at the chimney instead.
He was now, in the middle of the room and he was sure the
King could hear his thundering heart, so hard was it beating. Faramir
did not dare to look the King in the eyes for he feared what he would
encounter in the grey gaze. He did not dare to look at the beloved face
although this would be his sole opportunity to do it, for as soon as
he would be at his King's feet, the Ritual forbade him to do so until
all was completed. Faramir inwardly chastised himself for letting the
fear get the better of him. He forced himself to focus on the trust
he had on his King, his beloved Aragorn. Still, he could not find it
in himself to lift his gaze.
Aragorn saw Faramir entering the room and he thought that
the young man could not present a more splendid sight. The blue attire
he wore projected the fairness of his skin. He knew Faramir had been
groomed for him, his skin bathed and his hair brushed until it shone.
And on top of it all the young man looked breathtakingly beautiful without
his beard, the lovely mouth showing in all his glory and his large deep-grey
eyes distinguishing even more. He realized Faramir was trying not to
look at him. The young man was nervous. He walked slowly, as though
trying to delay his ordeal all he could, and looked at everything but
him. Finally, Faramir was standing in front of him and Aragorn's breath
caught in his throat when Ithil's bright light bathed the face of the
beautiful man standing before him, his gaze downcast.
"Here I am, my King. For you to make the claim."
Aragorn heard him say in that beautiful and quiet voice. Then the young
man knelt, both knees on the floor, hands on his lap, and completed
the set of words, grey gaze always trained on the floor. "I vow
to serve you until the day I die, protect you with my own life and I
offer myself to seal my allegiance."
Aragorn had never seen a more arousing sight than this -of
his Steward submitting to him in this way. Despite this willingness,
Aragorn did not want to do what he was appointed to do for he knew he
would have to hurt his sweet Faramir. He saw the young man before him
and wanted to raise him from where he knelt and hug him tight. But instead,
he continued saying what he was supposed to say.
**The King will ask to the Steward, with the words
stated in this Book, whether he agrees to be subjected to the trial.
The King from here on will not give the Steward comfort of kind**
"Do you come of free will and agree to be subjected
to the trial of the Ritual?" Faramir heard the King ask.
**The Steward must give his answer. If the Steward
does not submit, he will leave the Royal Chamber with the two guards
posted outside of it, to be locked in a cell and await a quick death
by mortal hand or endure a slow one by the magic of the Ritual; the
decision would be the King's**
"I come willingly. I was not coerced to fulfill
my duty. I submit to this trial," Faramir answered, feeling as
though an ax had fallen over his head.
**It is up to the King to accept the Steward's
submission. If the King does not accept it, the Steward still will be
condemned to death. If the King agrees, the final part of the Ritual
will begin and from here on the Steward must obey the King's every command**
"I accept your offer," Aragorn answered
to the kneeling figure before him. He restrained himself with all his
might from reaching out and caressing the young man's head to reassure
him. Instead, he continued with the task at hand.
**The King will order the Steward to remove his
outer garment. The Steward will offer the belt to his Liege and walk
to the place of the Ritual dressed in the remaining garment**
"Take off your robe and give your belt to me."
Aragorn saw how Faramir's trembling hands took off the belt
and offered it to him as he was bade. He saw how the naked chest was
revealed when the young man let the blue tunic drop over his shoulders
to fall down into a bundle around him; the fine and white skin gleaming
with some kind of scented oil. He felt a wave of desire travel through
his body; his first impulse, to lick the young man's fair skin. The
tunic was entangled around Faramir's legs and part of his waist; nevertheless,
Aragorn could glimpse some of the undergarment Faramir wore. The cloth
was white and he could not see Faramir's left hip but the right revealed
the garment was opened all the way up, a kind of clasp holding it up.
He could see a hint of the bare skin of Faramir's flank. He restrained
himself from doing something, yet again.
**The King will secure both hands of the Steward
with the belt of the Steward's garments. He will lead the Steward to
the place where the Ritual will be performed**
"Give me your hands," he ordered the young
man. Aragorn took the offered hands and secured them together with the
clasp of the belt Faramir had given him. The belt now, transformed into
a chain. Aragorn closed his eyes in despair, his cold demeanor faltering
once more, when Faramir flinched at the clicking sound of the clasp.
However, none of this Faramir saw.
The young Steward had his eyes downcast so he could not see
what the King was doing. He could only hear the orders imparted with
cold demeanor and tried harder to hide the trembling of his hands. He
felt as though he was in front of a stranger, he could not find the
kind and caring man he had known the past few days and he could not
help but flinch at every touch and clicking sound.
Aragorn sat up from the chair taking the young Steward with
him. Now that Faramir was on his feet, the blue tunic that had obscured
his vision from the rest of Faramir's body fell all the way down. The
white cloth was a loincloth that reached Faramir's bare feet. The garment
was as he had suspected, open on both sides, all the way along Faramir's
legs, the white cloth a kind of thin silk that showed the young man's
every contour.
**The King will voice the words that will open
the passage that lead to the place where the Ritual will take place.
The words should not be translated but pronounced in their original
Quenya**
Aragorn walked to the center of his room and spoke the words
as was expected of him and saw how a part of the wall besides the chimney
disappeared before his eyes. He did not wonder how that came to pass,
so many odd things had he witnessed to last him a lifetime. He could
feel Faramir's presence behind him and felt despair at hearing the young
man's unsteady breathing. He wanted to turn back and comfort him, he
did not want to offer this cold facade but he was obliged to do it.
The Ritual stated it so.
Faramir saw that the chain attached to his manacles was the
belt he was wearing but a moment ago as son as the King let go of his
hands and bade him to follow him. He was tied as though he was a prisoner!
He desperately thought, his breathing increasing dangerously. Nevertheless,
he followed the King without complaint, eyes always cast on the floor.
He realized they had walked to the center of the room and then heard
the King spoke words in a language he had never heard before. He followed
the King into what seemed a passage through an entrance that he was
sure had not been in the room when he had entered. However, he soon
forgot about this for other matters occupied his mind.
From here on Faramir knew nothing of what would happen, though
on second thought, he told himself, the whole experience had been one
surprise after another. And not so pleasant surprises for that matter.
He dreaded Aragorn's cold demeanor and he hoped that the Ritual was
responsible for it. He looked at his tied hands and the chain dangling
from the manacles, moving in a soft arc with every step he took. He
could not help but resent that a warrior of his station was treated
in such a way, as though he were a vile criminal who ought to be restrained.
Or as though he was a coward who would back on his word and had to be
tied down in order to prevent him escape from his duty. He forced himself,
one more time, to stay calm, to control the rate of his breathing.
Aragorn walked through the passage many things in his mind.
He was not surprised to find, all along the narrow corridor, strange
rocks that emitted a soft light. He turned his head back a little from
time to time and could see with the corner of his eye that Faramir was
still silently following him, eyes downcast. He wondered if the young
man's thoughts were in the same turmoil as his own.
Soon, Aragorn came to the end of the corridor and stood frozen
in place. There, before him, was a very spacious room. The walls were
clothed with delicately woven tapestries of a beauty that surpassed
any he had seen before. They depicted scenes from a past long gone but
not forgotten. The creation of Anadûnê, the Land of Gift,
Elves and Men sharing as the allies they once were, what must be the
fair land of Valinor, the White Tree and many more drawings. Each tapestry
possessed a beauty beyond comparison. Aragorn wondered about the nature
of the Ritual. He thought that maybe such a powerful magic might come
from the Elves of Valinor, or maybe, from the Valar themselves. Then,
he thought, the Valar had no reason to meddle in the affairs of Men
and neither Valinor's Elves. All these, Aragorn saw and thought in an
instant and in the end his eyes fixed themselves on a large square stone
that occupied the center of the room. He did not know it would be a
stone, though he should have imagined it, he bitterly thought.
**In the threshold of the place appointed for
the Ritual the King will blindfold the Steward, who will remain so until
the Ritual is completed. Then, The King will restrain the Steward, by
hands and feet, to the altar situated in the center of the place where
the Ritual will take place**
Aragorn retrieved the cloth he had attached to his wrist
and turning, he placed it around Faramir's head, blindfolding the young
man's eyes. He observed how Faramir lost his calm as soon as he placed
the blindfold on him, the young man's breathing catching in his throat.
He waited and prayed that the young man would compose himself and after
a few moments he saw how Faramir took deep breaths and forced some semblance
of calm within himself.
Faramir forced himself to take deep breaths for hyperventilating
at this point would not do. When the King had come to a halt in front
of what, he could see with his peripheral vision, was the threshold
of a room, he had wondered about what he would encounter beyond. But
then, the King had turned around and placed a blindfold on his eyes.
Chained and blindfolded. He could not help but feel despair filling
his every pore.
So, Faramir had calmed as best as he could and let himself
be guided by the King until he was left to stand, for a little while,
he did not know where. After a short while, the King guided him, once
more, to climb what seemed like steps and he was uncomfortable to no
end when the loincloth uncovered his entire flank, which the King would
surely see. His Liege helped him, then, to lie on a hard surface and
to situate himself as required and he, once more, forced himself to
remain calm. Faramir let go of a breath he did not know he had been
holding.
When approaching the altar Aragorn realized that the Book
was placed in front of it. He wondered about the meaning of this for
he had not read anything of the like. Furthermore, he thought, how was
it possible that The Book was here when only he himself could open the
passage? He realized too, that there were ample steps in front of the
square stone, surely for Faramir -and himself- to climb up.
Before helping Faramir to climb on the altar he had studied
the square stone with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The
hard platform had on one border, two short chains with clasps on the
end, that were set wide apart. On the side of the opposite border, there
was a ring. All of these were made of mithril. He thought about Faramir's
anklets with its rings attached to them and about the chain on Faramir's
manacles with its clasp in the end. The items on the surface were, no
doubt, to secure Faramir's hands and ankles to the altar. The image
this presented in his mind was arousing to no end but what he would
do in the end, was not.
Every step Faramir climbed up let the opening in the loincloth
reveal the entire leg and part of the young man's buttock. Aragorn forced
himself not to look at such a sight and instead fixed his gaze on Faramir's
face. The young man's fear was evident; his skin had a thin layer of
sweat that released into the air more of the maddening fragrance Faramir's
was wearing. When they arrived at the last step Aragorn helped Faramir
to lay face down on the surface.
"Extend your arms over your head," ordered Aragorn.
Then, he took the chain attached to the manacles and secured it to the
ring situated on the side of the front part of the stone. He walked
to the opposite side and took, first one ankle and then the other to
secure Faramir's legs to the chains attached to the surface. It did
not pass Aragorn's attention the young man flinched each time a clicking
sound resonated on the room or that a slight tremor traveled through
the young man's body each time he touched him by chance.
The time was near, thought Faramir. He felt his manacles
secured to something else and the clasping sound of it reverberated
in the room sending a chill down his spine. His ankles were secured
as well, his legs spread wide apart. Now, he was sure this would not
be pleasant for him. He was chained to a stone! Tonight, he would not
be offering his innocence to the King for this was no offering, this
felt as sacrifice. Only he did not know yet what his sacrifice would
entail. One thing was sure; this would be no lovemaking. There would
not be soft caresses, no words of endearment, no sweet surrender atop
soft sheets.
When he had entered the royal chambers he had seen the huge
bed with dread, thinking that soon he would lie there, giving himself
to his King. Now, he lay chained on top of a hard rock surface, his
emotions on the brink of panic, scared beyond words. No, this would
not be as he had expected at all. He had to trust his King though, he
had to trust his beloved Aragorn, and he had to think, once again, that
this cold demeanor had only the Ritual to blame. He had to think thus
because if not, he would be mad with despair and doubt. Doubt of Aragorn's
words, doubt of Aragorn's love for him.
Faramir's thoughts were stopped by the rustling sound of
clothes being shed and he knew, then, that the King was taking off his
own garments. He was suddenly aware of the fact that he would not be
able to see his beloved King, nor caress him. Faramir suddenly sensed
the King climb on the stone and arranging himself behind him and stilled
himself for what would come. His body started to tremble in earnest.
**The King will take the last piece of cloth from the
Steward's body and will not give The Steward comfort of any kind, neither
physical, nor emotional. The King will proceed to take the Steward and
will use nothing to ease his way. The Ritual will test, then, the Steward's
spirit and, if it is the case, a bond will be established. If the test
declares the Steward unfit, the King will guide him back to his chambers
where the Steward will be arrested by the King's guard. This is the
end of the Ritual**
Aragorn's lust increased ten fold as soon as he finished
securing Faramir to the stone. He shed his own clothes and climbed on
the stone to situate himself behind Faramir, his reasoning and judgement
starting to cloud before the image of Faramir displayed in such a manner,
a sacrifice, a beautiful offering ready for the take. He hesitated,
though, when he saw the quick rise and fall of Faramir's back, evidence
of the young man's fear. But then, he saw how the thin fabric of the
loincloth Faramir was wearing stuck to the young man's buttocks. He
saw how Faramir's skin was glistening with sweat and whatever the young
man had on him. He smelled the fragrance flowing out from Faramir's
skin and it was becoming arousing to the point of madness. Aragorn fought
to control himself but was losing the battle without even realizing
it. He reached out and unclasped the item securing Faramir's loincloth
together, putting the cloth aside. He felt as in a daze, as though something
had taken over his body to leave him as a spectator of his own actions.
All acted against Aragorn at that moment. Faramir's trembling
body spread before him, giving himself in such a passive manner, agreeing
to become a Steward even when he knew about what he one day might give
up for the sake of a realm. He could feel, somehow, the young man's
fear and it was increasingly arousing. He did not want to feel like
that. He did not want to be aroused by Faramir's fear and submissiveness.
He did not want Faramir's first time to be like this. All these he thought
for the briefest of moments, as he lost the battle he was fighting to
restrain the urge to touch the wonderful backside offered up to him
and plunge savagely into its virgin depths.
Faramir tensed as soon as he felt the King take the loincloth
off his body. He trembled when he felt the weight of the King's body
pressed against his backside. Then, he felt hands on his buttocks and
the King's arousal pressing at his entrance and could not help but whimper.
He started to realize that he was not being prepared and then all thought
flew from his mind to be replaced by pain. Blinding pain that robbed
him of his breath when the King, relentless, penetrated his unprepared
body.
Faramir tried to stifle the scream that came out of his mouth,
but he could not prevent it for the pain was so much and of an unknown
kind to him until now. He felt the King start to ease his way out to
come in again with renewed force, and that hurt even more. He screamed
again, tears running down his face, wetting the cloth covering his eyes,
his breath coming out of his mouth in labored gasps. He felt something
liquid wetting his thighs, and he realized that it must be blood, his
blood. Faramir screamed again and again with each thrust of the King.
He felt the manacles heavy on his wrists, sapping his energy, burying
in his skin for he could not help but pulled with all his force every
time the King tormented his flesh. He wondered about when the torture
would end. Why? He thought. Why was Aragorn doing this to him, betraying
his trust in such a way? Aragorn had said he loved him. Why take him
this way, Aragorn? He asked himself.
Aragorn saw himself as in a nightmare. He took Faramir without
any preparation. He felt possessed. He could not see beyond his need
to own the beautiful body laid before him like a feast. As though in
a deep fog he realized that he had badly hurt Faramir for he could see
the young man was bleeding, he could ''feel'' it. He heard Faramir screaming,
he saw every muscle on the young man tensed under the onslaught, he
saw how the young man was turning raw the skin of his wrist by pulling
at the chain every time he thrust into him. Nevertheless, he could still
not drive himself to a halt. Every time he withdrew from the tight heat
he fought to end it there, to stop hurting Faramir but each time he
plunged in again, more forcefully than before, an unknown madness squeezing
him in its grip. He could not help but wonder, between his mounting
despair, about what Faramir would be thinking right now at this betrayal
from his part. His sweet and trusting Faramir who he now felt he had
lost forever. His beautiful Faramir who now lay before him, sobbing
and whimpering from the pain he, himself, was inflicting.
Aragorn, Faramir thought.
His King.
Aragorn who swore himself to him. Aragorn, not the King,
Faramir reflected, trying to find a ray of light among such terrible
pain. He had no more strength to scream, he was now reduced to sobbing
as a child does. He forced himself to think about last night and how
tenderly Aragorn had held him to sleep. He forced himself to think about
the few kisses they had shared. No, the man on top of him was not his
Aragorn, he was not Aragorn as he, himself, was not Faramir. They were
now King and Steward and this was a duty that needed fulfilling and
no matter what, he would trust his King, he would trust Aragorn.
From within the blinding pain, Faramir could feel something-strange
building inside of him. His senses were heightening so he felt his pain
increase, if that were possible. He could hear his own sobs and Aragorn's
gasps as though they were thunder on his ears. He could feel Aragorn's
hands on him, on his backside, using him for leverage; the touch burned
him with heat while the cold stone under him burned with cold; the manacles
and anklets he felt as heavy rocks, draining the life out of him at
an increasing pace now. He could taste the salty tears, that had found
his way from under the blindfold to his mouth and they tasted more bitter
than the bitterest thing he had tasted. They tasted of his own pain
and anguish. However, the oddest thing was that he could see a blinding
light; he was blindfolded, his eyes tightly shut from the pain he was
feeling but still he could see a light that was beautiful and splendorous.
Suddenly, he felt a drop of moisture fall onto his back.
All the time Aragorn wondered when it would end, how he would
know the awful test was finished. Above all, he wondered if Faramir
could ever forgive him. All these Aragorn wondered about but still he
could not bring himself to stop taking his pleasure and he sank in utter
despair. Deep within, he bitterly wept over his weakness. On the outside,
a solitary tear fell down his face to rest onto Faramir's back. And
just as suddenly, his senses heightened all at once. He felt his pleasure
increase and immediately came deep inside Faramir. However, he felt
agony as well, Faramir's agony. The pain was so unbearable that his
own breath caught in his throat. He burned from heat and cold. He tasted
the sea on his mouth and heard Faramir's whimpers as the beating of
a whip against his soul; he saw a blinding light. Aragorn laid himself
down and pulled himself out of Faramir with utmost care, then he took
off the blindfold from the young man's eyes and drew the shaking form
against his chest, tightening his hold around his beloved.
Somehow between the haze of pain Faramir, unexpectedly, felt
the bond starting to form and he somehow knew it was no mere bond for
he felt all the anguish Aragorn felt as soon as a teardrop had touched
the skin of his back. He felt the guilt, the struggle, the fear of rejection
and the pleasure, the passion, the lust...and the love. All consuming
love. For him. Faramir's restraints unclasped by themselves, freeing
the captive from their draining task but he did not realize any of that,
for finally a blessed darkness took him. He did not realize either how
carefully Aragorn gathered him in his arms and wept bitter tears of
guilt and regret.
PART NINE. The Bonding.
They were one. United in body, mind and soul. They felt each
other's pain and pleasure, heard each other's thoughts, and shared each
other's souls. Even in his unconscious state Faramir could feel Aragorn's
love for him, giving him the nourishment his soul needed and Aragorn
could feel that love reflected back at him along with trust and adoration.
So they lay, Aragorn holding Faramir's trembling body and Faramir holding
tight the arms around his chest, unconsciously looking for an anchor
in his feverish state.
They could not see and if they would had been able to do
so, they would had seen a soft light surrounding their bodies and the
Book of the Ritual, floating above them, it's pages turning themselves,
each one of them blank. They would have seen the Book disappearing in
a light as the same that was blinding them. They would had seen the
Lady of Light appear above them, her hair as black as the night sky,
her eyes as bright as the light of a star, her skin as white as the
moon and even brighter. However, they could hear with the ears of the
soul and her voice was the sweetest music that could be heard.
<<The day foreseen has come. Two souls have broken
the Spell with the Power of Their Love. The last of the Line of the
Great Kings and the first of the beginning of a new age. The last of
the Steward's Line and the first whose love surpassed it all.>>
<<The Ritual is no more but not for the Will of
the King but for the Will of the Valar who created the Ritual to ensure
the upcoming of the One who would raise against Evil and help defeat
it once more and forever>>
Aragorn's only thought was – why? Why had the Valar
done this? Why did Faramir now lie trembling in his arms, whimpering
in pain, even in his unconsciousness? Suffering from a pain that he
had been forced to inflict.
<<It was foreseen by Námo, the only one
of us who sees things that shall be when it is Ilúvatar's will
to be so. The Line of Kings was in danger, the Númenóreans
corrupted by greed and lust for power. Long time ago, we came to you,
Race of Men, and offered the Spell, we offered a way for greedy and
paranoid kings to ensure their survival and the loyalty of one that
would die for them. However, we ourselves, looked only for the survival
of the One that shall come and be the first of a new age for Men. Thus,
the Spell was made and sealed in the Book and the Room was created out
of the reach of space and time known to Men, Vairë's weaves adorning
its walls to remember a lost time. But it was the Númenóreans
who elaborated the nature of the test for this was the choice given
to them and so they chose to test the Steward in the most humiliating
way that they could imagine. Subduing a warrior to the lowest position.
His honor and pride stripped from him by an act of violence.>>
<<Your souls are pure and have come together in
love and have passed a dire test. You are now bound, as no Soul of Men
had been bonded before and never two others shall be. Both your lives'
essences linked as one. Thus, should one die, the other will follow.>>
<<Aragorn, for your brave and kind spirit, you
are granted the choice of departing from this world when you wish to
do so. It will be your decision when the road would hold only weariness
for you.>>
<<Faramir, of compassionate and trusting soul,
you and you alone are granted the long life of the Bloodline of the
Great Kings and for the great sacrifice you have made Ëste sends
you her Gift of Rest and Healing Touch for the weariness in your body>>
Aragorn felt how Faramir's trembling body went limp in his
arms; the occasional whimper replaced by the sound of even and rested
breathing. Aragorn held him tighter, grateful tears running down his
face.
<<The Ritual has been fulfilled, the test passed
and the Tradition destroyed. Blessings, beloved children of Iluvatar.
You will know this I have told you when you wake up. Now, rest for you
will need it>>
Aragorn woke up and realized two things; he was in his bedchambers
and a warm naked body was pressed against his chest. Faramir's body.
Left arm around Aragorn's waist, face buried in the crook of his neck
and head using his arm as a pillow. Aragorn studied the young man's
face; Faramir looked so peaceful, he thought, so trusting in his arms.
He caressed the young man's face with his free arm and pulled the unruly
locks behind Faramir's ears. The events of the night came to him all
of a sudden. Varda, the Lady of Light had come! The Ritual was broken
by the power of their love and the Will of the Valar. It was the Valar,
after all, who had initiated such Tradition. Aragorn smiled and could
not help but tighten his hold on Faramir; they were bound and not for
mere military tactics. No, their bond run deeper, created by the Valar
by means of their love and Faramir was granted a life as long as his
own. Aragorn squeezed the young man even more, his eyes misting with
unshed tears which he could not prevent from falling down his face.
"Ai Faramir! What grave hurt I have done to you my love.
I just hope you would forgive me, for the madness that overtook me was
not my own," said Aragorn in a quiet voice.
Suddenly, he felt Faramir's awareness in his mind, vague
confusion and ...fear. He let go of the young Steward to look at his
face and saw grey eyes, deeper than his own, staring back at him, full
of caution, where once was only utter trust, reflected in his gaze.
And this pierced Aragorn's heart worse than a sword would have. He reached
out to caress Faramir's face and to assure him that all was over, that
he was safe now.
But Faramir flinched from his touch, closing his beautiful
eyes and putting his arms against his own chest in a clearly defensive
gesture. Faramir had awoken to someone holding him tight and speaking
words that he did not grasp. For a blissful moment, he had not known
space or time; but then, all came to him in a rush. He saw the man in
front on him, laying with him on the bed and could not help but shy
away from his touch, closing his eyes to not see, to not fall into the
despair of the memories that came rushing to strip his happiness from
him.
Faramir knew all that had happened was due to the Ritual,
that it was not Aragorn's fault for he had felt it through their bond,
and the Lady had told them about the Númenóreans' choice.
But he could not reconcile all those facts with the awful thing that
was done to him. He could not separate King from Beloved for right now
he could not help but see only one man. The one that had caused him
so much pain and humiliated him as no one had before. Faramir thought
that fate was, indeed, cruel with him for taking the solace it had offered
in such a horrid manner. A soft voice dragged him out of his musings,
he looked once more to the beloved face, his heart filling with doubts,
and his eyes brimming with unshed tears.
"Faramir?" said Aragorn, though he did not know
what exactly he wanted to ask. The only thing he was sure of was that
his heart was breaking at seeing Faramir recoiling from him, the grey
eyes widening now with despair, glazing with the tears that would come.
"Faramir?" he repeated, his voice a mere whisper. His hand,
that had stopped in mid air, resumed the intended touch.
Aragorn wanted to scream, he wanted to tear something, for
all that had been gained was destroyed in a single moment. Faramir's
smile, Faramir's laugh, Faramir's trust. He only hoped that the bond
they now shared would help him to rebuild what they had lost. He cursed
the one whose choice was such a damnable act, he cursed the corrupt
ancestor who had doomed him to this guilt and despair. He cursed them
all for now his sweet Faramir, his trusting Faramir, his compliant Faramir
lay trembling at his mere touch.
"Shhh, I will not hurt you, you must believe me,"
pleaded Aragorn, running his hand over the young man's head, pushing
the unruly locks out of the way behind Faramir's right ear. "What
I...what I did, I did it under the influence of magic. That was not
me who hurt you, my love. I would cut my hand before knowingly hurting
you. Do not recoil from my touch, learn the truth in my words through
our bond," finished Aragorn, sinking into utter misery when Faramir's
tears started to run unhindered down his face.
The young man shook his head as though denying something.
He squeezed his eyes tight, trying to get a grip on his emotions, but
to no avail. His breath caught in his throat and he wanted to think
that the keening sound he was hearing was not his own suffering finding
its way out. He could not prevent himself tense all over when Aragorn
embraced him in a loose hold. An embrace that at any other time would
have brought him succor in the middle of despair. But not now.
"Please Faramir, see through our bond. I love you. I
could not bear to lose you," pleaded Aragorn still.
Faramir heard the words and somehow started to see, to comprehend,
and to calm down. They had been victims of something beyond their hands
control. He knew Aragorn had suffered during the ordeal. He had felt
the guilt as well as the love. He forced himself to calm, to breathe,
and to reach out for their bond.
And could not.
The bond was not there for him. He felt nothing. He raised
his head from where it laid on Aragorn's shoulder, pushing the King
away from him, eyes wide, sight clouded by tears that had not stopped
falling. He saw the bewildered look in the beloved face and reached
out with his mind again, head shaking from side to side, feeling the
panic rising in him when he felt nothing still.
Nothing.
Faramir was sure he had felt the bond. He had felt it and
embraced it. He had felt connected to Aragorn's beautiful spirit and
despite all that he had suffered, in that moment, when the bond established
itself in their minds, he had felt like a thirsty man drinking much
needed water. In the middle of all, he had felt secure, cherished, and
loved.
Now, Faramir could understand why he was feeling thus, why
he was feeling cautious, why he felt the fear, why he recoiled from
the touch he craved the most. The bond was gone, he did not feel Aragorn's
warmth spirit anymore. He did not feel the thing, that once tasted,
he could not live without anymore. A scream caught in his throat and
in the end, he panicked when Aragorn tried once more to reach out for
him. He pushed his King away and dashed himself against the headboard
of the bed, making himself as tiny as possible and holding desperately
his head. He heard someone calling but all was getting hazy by the minute.
"Faramir!" Aragorn could not prevent the exclamation
from his lips, the panic wave hitting his mind with full and startling
force. He immediately reached out to hold the young man who was crouched
against the headboard, shaking like a leaf and disturbingly rocking
back and forth. "Faramir, love, what is it?" He strained his
hearing to catch what the young man kept repeating over and over.
"It is gone."
Aragorn embraced Faramir tight and was surprised when the
young man held him tighter in return, putting his arms around him and
squeezing painfully, as though afraid that Aragorn might disappear at
any moment. "What is gone, my love?" asked Aragorn, soothingly
caressing the young man's back, and alarmed to no end by Faramir's increasing
distress.
Faramir buried his head deeper in Aragorn's chest, the fear
of losing his beloved greater than the fear of the memories. He feared
that somehow Aragorn did not want him, that somehow Aragorn had severed
the bond. He did not know what to think or to fear anymore. He felt
his mind falling into itself and he welcomed the approaching darkness.
He wanted oblivion, he did not want to live like this. Used and cast
aside. The bond had been so beautiful and consuming, he knew he could
not live without it for now it felt as it always had been there. It
felt as though without it he would be incomplete, an important part
of himself gone. Thus, he wanted to leave as well. He embraced the darkness
for it offered the oblivion he craved.
Aragorn grew alarmed when Faramir's mounting despair transformed
into something more. Faramir's mind was disappearing from his own awareness
as though the young man was not there. He felt his beloved Faramir going
limp in his arms and felt him no more. He panicked. In a hurry he situated
Faramir more comfortably on the bed and felt for a pulse, which was
there, heart still beating strongly.
A very distraught King sighed in relief and covered the young
man with the sheets. Then, he dressed himself in simple trousers and
shirt to go to the door and ordered one of the guards to retrieve Varan,
the warden healer, for him. He did not miss the look of utter sadness
that crossed the guards' faces.
"He passed the test, do not fear," Aragorn said
to the guards reassuringly. "Hurry with the healer, please."
The guard all but ran to accomplish the order.
"I do not understand," said Varan after assessing
Faramir's state. "He seems asleep, but he does not respond to common
stimulus. He should have awoken," finished the healer to Aragorn's
total concern. "I must know everything that happened in order to
make further diagnosis," he added.
Aragorn felt a sinking feeling take hold of his heart for
the power of the Ritual would not let...He stopped his contemplation
in mid sentence for now that he thought better...the Ritual was no more!
He certainly should be able to talk about it unhindered, should not
he?
"Do you know something about the Ritual?" He said,
trying the ground.
"What all people know. It is a test for the Steward
of the realm. If he does not pass it, he would be killed, declared a
traitor," answered the healer.
"The test was of a sexual nature," said Aragorn
in a rush, surprised and relieved that the power that prevented him
from disclosure, was gone. He could not help but redden under the healer's
bewildered stare, though. "Please, let us sit and I will explain
it all," he continued, guiding the healer towards the chairs beside
the window.
Aragorn began to tell his story starting with the shock he
had felt when Galen first told him about the unusual tradition. He told
Varan about the grave error he almost committed and about the inevitability
of fulfilling the Ritual. He told the healer about Faramir's insecurities,
he told him about how, he himself, had promised Faramir no harm would
ever come to him and how later, he was forced to break that promise
by a dire and mad obligation. He told him every sordid detail of what
had happened in the accursed room and he told him about the bond and
the gifts of the Valar. In the end, Aragorn told the healer about their
love, bitter tears running down his face.
Varan, on the other hand, was more than shocked. He was furious.
However, not at Aragorn but at the mad kings of old. He looked at the
seemingly serene figure on the bed and could not help but feel his heart
constrict in sympathy. He looked then at the sight of his King, crying
disconsolate as a child does and cursed under his breath. He rose from
the chair and put a reassuring hand on his King's shoulder.
"We will figure it out, my King. We will find out what
is wrong with him. Have a little faith that all will be well,"
stated Varan, not knowing what else to say.
"I could feel the bond, Varan, I could feel him. I could
feel his distress, his fear, his panic," said Aragorn, calming
somewhat. "But it seemed he could not feel me. Ai Varan, you should
have seen him. He was utterly panicked," started to say Aragorn,
but his voice broke before he could say anything more.
"Calm yourself, my King. You have to be strong for Faramir,"
said Varan, trying another tactic to bring the King to relax.
It worked, for just as suddenly Aragorn, angrily brushed
away the tears running down his face and abruptly raised himself from
the chair, and walked to Faramir's side. He then, picked the young man
up in his arms, wrapping him in the sheets and bade Varan to open the
door.
"I will carry him to his rooms. His new rooms,"
said Aragorn, resolution painted on his face. "I will bring him
back, I will not lose him to this."
"Sire, I will give you my opinion about the new rooms
if you do not mind," said Varan.
"Speak," said Aragorn curtly.
"Place young Faramir in other rooms for if he awakens
in those he would be more distressed about the matter. He does not have
good memories about that room, Sire," finished Varan in a pleading
tone.
"I will not ask about this now, but I will talk to you
later," said Aragorn, leaving his chambers with Varan at his tail.
Aragorn chose the rooms at the end of the same hall where
his own chambers were located. Varan opened the door for him at his
signal and he was rewarded with a grateful look from his healer for
having paid heed to his warning. The healer put aside the sheets of
the bed for Aragorn to place his charge there. Then, Aragorn himself
covered Faramir with the blankets and sat at the edge of the bed.
Varan went to the door and at the threshold he said, "We
will have to wait for it is clear the choice to wake is his." Then
he left the King to his own thoughts.
Aragorn held Faramir's right hand with his own while with
the other he caressed the young man's face, silent tears running down
his face. "Wake up my love, please?" he begged the sleeping
man. "Do not rob me of your presence, beloved, for I would go mad.
We can fight this, beloved, we will fight it. Wake up to fight at my
side. I promise all will be well," finished Aragorn, lifting Faramir's
limp hand to give it a tender kiss and then placed it over Faramir's
chest.
Aragorn looked out of the window. It was raining. He thought
about how much Faramir liked to see the falling rain. He thought about
all the things Faramir liked. Such simple things. The rain, Anor reflected
on the water, Ithil's light, the mist in the falling waters, the wind
blowing through the trees. All simple things but the most beautiful
of it all. His sweet Faramir was a kind and beautiful spirit and his
soul always looked for such beautiful things. His beloved could not
end like this, he was sure of that. His Faramir could not end his days
without tasting the happiness he deserved. No, he would recover and
together, they would see happier times.
End of this series
Next: The Road Ahead
