When the ceremony was done, Gandalf sighed peacefully. Aragorn was
the newly crowned king of Gondor, now happily married to his lovely
Arwen. It had all been lovely.
The hobbits came to him, still amazed that they had stood in the center
of Minas Tirith as the king led the entire city to bow to them. They
gazed in awe at the wizard, hoping he had words of wisdom for them.
He did not disappoint.
"Go with Legolas and Gimli to the reception. There are drinks
and food. But I warn you, Peregrin Took, against drinking too much of
the red wine! It's very potent, and you have little tolerance to man-
made wine."
Pippin grinned at him. "I know my limit, Gandalf!"
"Since when?" Gandalf stooped to hug him, and brushed his
impudent cheek with a light kiss. "Take care, my young friend."
"Where will you be?" Pippin asked.
"I have business with the new steward."
"Faramir?" Pippin's alert eyes picked him out of the crowd,
speaking with the Lady Éowyn. "Is he all right? His wounds have
healed?"
"Yes, sufficiently. He will be fine."
"He's very nice," Pippin said. "Very sweet."
"Yes, very." Gleaming, Gandalf patted him on the shoulder.
"Off with you, now, hobbits! Go and enjoy yourself!"
He shared a private smile with Frodo, followed him with loving eyes
as the four small beings scuttled off towards the great reception room,
then, after a long sigh, approached the surviving son of Denethor.
"Mithrandir!" Faramir bowed gracefully to him.
Gandalf bobbed his head in return, and also to the lady. "You
and I have many things to discuss, Faramir," he said.
Éowyn excused herself and proceeded into the castle to join the others.
Left alone with the wizard, Faramir waited patiently to hear what he
had to say.
"Let's walk," Gandalf began, laying a hand on the young man's
shoulder as they ambled towards the scenic garden. He felt the extreme
muscular tension crumble, almost to the point of weakness, and wrapped
an arm more supportively round him. "My dear Faramir…"
he murmured. "Do not fear my touch."
"I do not fear it. I ache for it." Faramir leaned into him,
rested his head on the wizard's strong shoulder. "Thank you, Gandalf.
You're always such a comfort to me."
They reached the fountain and sat together on one of the white stone
benches surrounding it. After a brief moment of peace, the older man
began to speak softly. "I know your heart, my boy. I know that
no one in your life, save your brother, ever cared for you. No one ever
touched you, not even your lady mother. She, like Denethor, was cold
and indifferent to your sensitivity. Boromir alone cared for you. He
touched you as you grew from babe to man, and so your heart grieves
for him. I understand your loss. When Boromir died, Denethor lost a
son, but you lost everything."
A glint of tears was quickly swept away. "My brother loved me."
"And you loved him."
"Yes, very much."
"Faramir…" When their eyes met again, Gandalf's face
was gentle. "You are not alone. I am with you."
"But you cannot stay."
The sigh was accompanied by a shake of the white head. "No, I
cannot stay. I am sorry, Faramir. I am old, and tired. I must go soon."
"I will miss you."
"I will miss you, too. I have loved you and your brother from
the day you were born, you know. You, especially, are dear to me. I
wish I could take you with me, but you have a long life to live here
in Middle Earth."
"I am doomed," Faramir said despondently. "Doomed to
a loveless life, a life without closeness of any kind."
"Faramir," Gandalf hugged him suddenly, and touched his face.
"Did it escape your notice that Pippin Took saved you when Denethor
set you afire?"
"No, of course not. I owe him my life. If it were not for you
and Pippin, I would have perished there."
"Pippin is young, impetuous and overzealous, but he is uninhibited
in his affection. He cares deeply, is unerringly faithful, listens raptly
to every word spoken to him…and he thinks you're one of the walking,
talking gods of beauty. He cares deeply for you, did you know that?"
Faramir stared at him in open-mouthed surprise. "Pippin…is
attracted to me?"
"Yes, and wants very much to touch you in many ways."
Licking his lips, the young steward thought about it. "I had never
considered a hobbit as a companion, not until I met Pippin. Do you think
it would be accepted?"
Gandalf chuckled, which made him cock his head in confusion. "I
must confess something to you, my sweet Faramir," the old wizard
said with a wink. "My own interests are in another little hobbit."
"Who?" Faramir asked, still staring.
"The ring bearer."
"Frodo? Really?"
"Yes, really."
"How do you make love with a hobbit? They're so small!"
"I have not yet attempted it, but I have always heard that where
there's a will, there is a way." Gandalf winked again. "We
have not discussed the science of it yet, but he has told me that he
loves me, and that he wants to spend the rest of his life with me. I
have never been happier in my life. He, like most of the hobbits, is
very tactile, as am I. And even if our relationship is destined never
to deepen past hugs and kisses, I will be content with him. He is a
blessing to me."
"I am very happy for you, Mithrandir!" Faramir hugged him
quickly again. "So, Frodo and Sam are only friends, then? And Pippin
and Merry?"
"Friends. Their intimacy is a characteristic of most hobbits.
They love freely, and touch without hesitation. Their bonds are close,
like brothers."
Faramir nodded, understanding. "Pippin," he whispered, and
something lit in his eyes, something new and inspiring. "What is
this strangeness that I'm feeling, Gandalf?" he asked.
Gandalf laid a hand on the young man's heart and smiled at him. "It
has a simple name, Faramir. It's called `hope'."
The party was in full swing as Faramir entered the reception room.
Most in attendance had already partaken of far too much wine and were
spinning in wild, weaving dances round the large room. The music was
chaotic, without rhythm, proving that the band members had also imbibed.
The dancing was erotic in many instances, and in others, merely drunken
and clumsy.
He watched as Gimli, the dwarf, strode purposefully over to Legolas,
the elf, and tugged him away from his conversation with Elrond, wrapped
a possessive arm around his slender waist and whirled him around the
room in a vague semblance of dance. Legolas laughed merrily as his arms
encircled the inebriated dwarf.
Merry Brandybuck was dancing with Éowyn, laughing at something she
had said. Sam was in the arms of another lovely lady with long, red
hair. The future king of Rohan, Éomer , stepped side by side in a formal
dance with one of Elrond's twin sons.
On the second level of the beautiful, ornamental room, King Elessar
danced with his beautiful queen.
Gandalf found Frodo dipping dark red punch from the bowl to refill
his glass. Dropping to one knee, the wizard lifted the hand missing
one finger and kissed it, which merited him an enthusiastic hug. The
hobbit's lips could be clearly read even from a great distance as he
mouthed the words `I love you' to the old wizard.
Faramir smiled empathetically for his dear friend Gandalf. Frodo was
lovely.
Scanning the room, he discovered Pippin Took sitting alone on a bench
against the far wall. Hesitantly, Faramir approached him.
Pippin's hazel eyes rose to the handsome steward's face and he smiled
readily. "Good evening, Faramir!" he greeted, immediately
on his feet. "How are you feeling tonight?"
"I am well, little one," Faramir knelt before him. "And
you?"
"I was beginning to get a bit bored, but not any more! I'm very
glad to see you!" Pippin's pert manner was uplifting.
Touching his curly hair, Faramir asked, "Would you care to dance?"
"I would love to!" Pippin followed him to a space on the
dance floor and wrapped his arms around Faramir's waist, which was as
high as he could reach. To viewers, what they performed was not quite
a dance, but more of a slow moving embrace that led them inadvertently
over to Gandalf and Frodo, who were also attempting to dance together
much in the same manner.
Gandalf and Faramir exchanged a glance and a grin. "This is not
so simple," Faramir said. "Perhaps we should work on the choreography
somewhere in private."
Gandalf, who had heard him, nodded in agreement, took his hobbit by
the hand and led him out of the castle. Faramir followed suit, but not
their path. Instead, he led Pippin up the winding stairway.
"Where are we going?" Pippin asked.
"To be alone so we can talk." Faramir answered calmly. "I
hope you do not mind."
"Of course not. That crazy music is getting on my nerves, anyways.
I'd much rather find a quiet place."
"Would my bedroom be suitable?"
"Sure," Pippin answered trustingly. "Let's go!"
They sat on opposite sides of the round hardwood table, Pippin's bare,
hairy feet kicking freely ten inches above the woven rug. He sipped
at a cup of cold tea, reticently studying the decorative wall hangings
surrounding them.
Faramir's eyes were on Pippin. "Are you hungry?"
"No," Pippin answered, meeting his gaze. "Are you?"
"No," Faramir stretched an arm across the table to touch
his cheek, impressed when he did not flinch away. "What about a
fire? Are you cold?"
"No, it's warm enough, I think." The hobbit smiled at him.
"Although not too warm for cuddling if you're amind."
"I'm very much amind," Faramir said, his blue eyes tender.
Pippin bounced down from the chair and climbed carefully into the man's
lap. Folded in, he settled comfortably in the loving embrace and contentedly
caressed the strong arms that cuddled him. "This is nice,"
he said. "Very nice."
"Yes, it is." Faramir pressed his cheek against the top of
the hobbit's light brown curls. "It is very nice that you allow
the touch of my hand, that you do not sneer at my very presence as my
kin have done. That you think me worthy of your consideration means
much to me."
"Oh, Faramir," Pippin looked up at him with sympathy. "Denethor
was a monster!"
"He was Denethor, no more, no less. He was unable to give me what
my heart craved from him. I expected nothing, and received just that."
"Faramir," Pippin struggled to situate himself face to face
with him, which required straddling his lap and reaching up to cup both
sides of his head. "I am not like Denethor. I will never be like
him. What I want from you is not only touch—not only friendship.
I have much more in mind! If approval or a pat on the head is all you
require, any old hobbit will do! Denethor was cold to you, and to everyone
else, but he's dead and buried. Let him go, and give me a chance to
make you happy."
Faramir's lips descended on the hobbit's sweet mouth to kiss him desperately.
Small, roving hands opened his tunic and gently groped his muscular
chest. Deft fingers found a nipple and began to toy with it. Faramir
shivered and sat up straight. His blue eyes burned with need. "What
do you want from me, Pippin?" he asked breathlessly.
"Why don't you take off all your clothes and lie down on the bed?"
Pippin suggested as he stretched for another kiss. "And we will
see where this takes us."
"Yes," Faramir agreed, and carried him to the bed with him.
They both undressed and got into bed, covering themselves with the quilts.
Rising to his knees, Pippin leaned over to kiss Faramir's lips again.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured. "Such a beautiful,
beautiful man. You're the second man I've fallen for. Did you know that?
Or should I even tell you that I was also in love with your brother?"
Faramir stared at him in surprise. "You loved Boromir?"
"Yes, but not as much as I love you. Our time together was short,
and ended too quickly. He was much too busy fighting and saving our
lives to pay attention to the fact that I was smitten with him."
"Am I his replacement in your mind, Pippin?"
"No. It's not like that, Faramir! I love you more for your differences
than for your similarities. I love you because you are kind and sweet,
and because you needed love."
"So you pity me."
"Faramir, I'm going to get angry if you don't stop your `worthless
me' shite! I love you because I love you! I need no other reason!"
Faramir's arms closed around him and brought him down for a lingering
kiss. "I'm sorry, Pippin. Forgive me. I love you, too!"
"I hope love means the same to you that it does to me. In my world,
love lasts forever and ever, and never ends. In my world, when I give
my love to you, it means I want to remain with you and love you until
the end of my days, and beyond if it's possible! I will have no others,
and will insist on your faithfulness to me. It's like a marriage, an
unbreakable bond that I will cherish with you, Faramir. I will always
love you. That is what I believe, and what I want. Now, tell me, how
is it done in your world?"
Faramir laughed and wept at the same time. "I don't know how it
is done in other worlds, but, oh, my sweet Pippin…I want to live
in your world." He kissed Pippin passionately again and again.
"And I want us to live there together, there in your beautiful
world for the rest of my life!"
Pippin wiped a tear from his eye and began to kiss a path from the
man's lips to his throat. "We have a lot of things to talk about,"
he said softly, "And plans to make, but all that can wait until
later. Nothing is as important to me this minute as making love with
you."
"How will we do this?"
"I've never been with a man before! How should I know? I was hoping
you would have some ideas!"
"I will do anything you want," Faramir said, gently touching
his face. "Anything, my love."
Pippin took a deep breath, thinking. "I've heard tell of men sucking
each other. It's supposed to be pleasant."
"Then, let's give it a try," Faramir said. Carefully, he
pushed the hobbit's head onto the pillow, rolling on top of him to kiss
him again, then crawled backwards between his legs, beneath the quilts,
and took the small erect organ into his mouth.
Pippin shouted out at the first pressure of suction, which caused Faramir
to sit up quickly in alarm. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"Yes," the hobbit answered shakily. "Please, don't stop.
I couldn't seem to help myself. I warn you, this will take no more than
a minute. I'm already too close. It's your beauty, Faramir. You make
me too hot." He caressed the scruffy cheek again, smiling affectionately
at the steward.
Faramir kissed his hand, then returned to his purpose. Sucking him
in, he soon realized that Pippin was not exaggerating. His orgasm was
strong, and his shouts were loud. He swallowed quickly to avoid strangling
on the salty deluge, hoping no one would hear and think he was harming
the hobbit.
He realized when Pippin began to tend his swollen member that his own
endurance was also very short-lived. He drew in several deep breaths
to stabilize himself, but the oxygen intake only served to make him
come faster and harder. In dismay, he heard the thunderous outcry ripped
from his lips as wave after wave of delicious agony overtook him and
wrenched his body nearly double around the hobbit.
When it was over, he fell still, weak from exertion. "That was
magnificent!" he whispered.
"That it was," Pippin agreed, and twisting about, cuddled
up in his arms. He sighed peacefully. "That it was."
Faramir kissed his forehead, and tried to force his brain to function,
but thoughts were fleeting. "There are many things we should talk
about," he began.
"Not tonight, my love. All things are better left until tomorrow."
Pippin's hand was slowly painting a pattern of warmth on his belly.
"Tonight, we can succumb to something more…physical."
"What do you speak of, Pippin? I admit I'm a bit too weary for
more lovemaking. What else do you have in mind?"
"Touching you, my love," Pippin answered, squeezing his hand
beneath the quilts. "And you touching me."
