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Chapter One
Elrond of Rivendell nodded to himself as he read the latest message
from the scouts, reporting that the small party was only a few hours
from arrival at Imildaris. The Elf Lord was satisfied that all was in
readiness and stood, smoothing his robes, and put the letter in a box
before walking out onto the balcony off his study. Idly he looked toward
the path that the riders would soon be arriving on, curious to see his
guest and patient. It had been six months since he had left Minas Tirith
and last seen the newly invested Prince Faramir, Steward of Gondor.
During the past months many letters had been exchanged between Rivendell
and Gondor. Elrond always read letters from his daughter and foster
son with pleasure, happy to hear about their new lives, giving them
advice when he could. Less than two months after he had returned to
Imladris, Aragorn and Arwen both began to speak of being concerned for
the young man who had become the new Steward.
Faramir had been slow to heal from his wounds saving the White City
despite Aragorn's healing. He had quietly and unobtrusively shouldered
responsibilities and burdens that he had never imagined that he would
have to bear, and performed those duties admirably. It was not until
he had nearly collapsed during a council meeting that everyone realized
that he was not as healed as he claimed. In all the celebrations for
the new king and queen, and all the work in establishing peace after
the War of the Ring, no one realized just how exhausted the young Steward
was.
Aragorn cursed himself for failing in his healer's duties and set out
to help his Steward. But he was thwarted by Faramir stubbornness, and
by the depth of the wounds that had been inflicted. Faramir was not
one to allow for any weakness in himself, and pushed himself beyond
all reason. And even Aragorn could offer little solace for some of the
injuries: how could one heal the fact that his own father tried to kill
him?
Faramir threw himself into work, trying to hide behind duties and responsibilities.
He respectfully but firmly refused Aragorn's offers to take time to
rest, and the new king was bemused to learn that while he might now
rule Men, he could not make his stubborn Steward obey him in this particular
order.
Arwen wrote that she had hoped that Faramir would pursue the affection
between him and Eowyn, but to everyone's disappoint the two had quietly
ended any potential relationship. Eowyn returned to Rohan with her brother
shortly after Aragorn's coronation and there was no sign that Faramir
was interested in any of the young ladies at the new court.
Throughout the summer and fall Aragorn had indeed been burdened with
many duties, as had Faramir. But as the first winter since the War of
the Ring approached, things began to settle down and Aragorn turned
his attention anew to his Steward. Faramir was getting no better and
it was time for action. Letters were exchanged between Gondor and Rivendell,
and it was decided that the only way to truly get Faramir to rest was
to remove him from the White City. Everyone knew that the city held
too many memories for the young man that hindered his healing. Perhaps
in a new environment he would let himself relax and be cared for.
Elrond offered to take Faramir into his house and offer him his healing
and Aragorn and Arwen eagerly accepted. Winter would be a slow time
in the City; there were no pressing duties that would require Faramir's
presence and he would have time to hopefully heal and rest, far away
from reminders of the War. Once the winter snows settled in, it would
be months before Faramir could return to Gondor and he would have ample
time to recover.
Aragorn tried to present it as a request for his Steward, but Faramir
was too bright to be fooled. He was not happy, especially when the king
admitted the true motives, but there was nothing he could do. His belongings
were packed and the king hand picked a group of Rangers to accompany
the Steward. It was perhaps a sign of just how ill he was that Faramir
offered little protest. He quietly accepted the order, and left the
city.
Elrond looked forward to spending time with his new houseguest. The
young Man he had briefly met during the celebrations in Minas Tirith
had intrigued Elrond. A warrior, yes, unquestionably, but his soul had
also spoke of being a scholar, one who loved to learn. The Elf Lord
had not had the opportunity of any long conversations with the new Steward,
but he remembered being impressed by his intelligence and wit. Gandalf
told Elrond of Denethor's final madness and Elrond was impressed with
Faramir's quiet dignity and efficiency during the time of Aragorn's
coronation.
Elrond admitted to himself there was a certain elegance and beauty
about the young man that attracted the Elf. Faramir was unlike other
Men that Elrond had encountered, and so vastly different from his brother
Boromir. It would be a pleasure to have the Steward in Rivendell.
Several hours' later riders appeared over the pass, and Elrond's keen
eyes spotted them even as the signals from the sentries were sounded.
He gathered his thoughts and turned to go to the courtyard. Erestor,
his chief advisor, already waited downstairs and they went out to greet
the riders.
Elrond watched as the party arrived, quickly scanning the Men to find
Faramir. One of the figures had the hood of his Ranger uniform pulled
up around his head, and he knew that this was his young guest. The Man
dismounted his horse, turning the reins over to a groom. A moment's
hesitation and then he approached the Lord of Rivendell.
"Lord Elrond." Faramir made himself push back the hood of
his cloak, knowing it would certainly not due to great the Lord impolitely,
and bowed respectfully. Manners and protocol had been pounded into him
from his birth and he in fact found it easier to take refuge in formality
at times when his emotions threatened. He was not happy about being
sent here, but knew that Elrond only wished him to be well.
"Prince Faramir," Elrond returned, using the young man's
new title. He saw the blue eyes flicker and then look down, and guessed
that Faramir was not comfortable yet with his awards. Aragorn had been
delighted to bestow the man with the title, knowing it was well deserved,
but Faramir was rather embarrassed with the new position.
Elrond was already appraising his patent and he was dismayed to see
that Aragorn's misgivings and concerns had not been exaggerated. Faramir
had never been truly muscular, but now he was decidedly thin. His eyes
were bright and betrayed his weariness despite Faramir's efforts to
avoid the Elf Lord's gaze. His entire being spoke of disquiet and unease.
Elrond knew that he would need all his healer's skills to help this
young mortal.
"I bring you greetings from the King and Queen," Faramir
continued, his voice calm and polite. "There are letters for you
and others in Rivendell in the luggage." He started to gesture
to one of the guards to open a bag, but Elrond raised his hand.
"I am delighted to receive their letters, but papers can certainly
wait. It is cool this evening. Come; let us go into the house where
the fire awaits." He ushered his guest through the doors of the
house where Erestor was waiting. The advisor effortlessly took charge
of directing the unloading of Faramir's things and guiding the servants,
letting Elrond take Faramir into one of the studies where a fire was
warming the room and tea was waiting. Faramir handed over his traveling
cloak and riding gloves to one of his men and followed Elrond without
argument.
"Your journey went well?" Elrond asked, gesturing for Faramir
to take a seat while the Elf fetched tea from the sideboard.
"Very well, thank you." Faramir was still angry at being
packed off from Gondor, but knew to mind his manners. "It seems
that all the lands had a good harvest this year, and no one has spotted
Orcs for some months around Gondor. It will be a fine winter."
"It is a new age," Elrond agreed, smiling as he handed Faramir
a cup and took a seat across from the Man. "I have seen many winters,
but this one does promise to be a time of peace and prosperity. We are
all blessed to have the curse of Sauron removed from Middle Earth."
"And to have the king restored in Gondor," Faramir added
firmly. He took a sip of the tea, and smiled at the unusual taste.
Elrond nodded in agreement and smiled at his guest. "I wish to
hear all the news from your lands, but it can wait until tomorrow. And
I have received news from the Shire that you will no doubt be interested
in hearing. Our little friends are doing well after their final scuffle
in throwing Sauroman out."
Faramir looked amused, his eyes lighting up for the first time. "When
I told the valiant Pippin that he was a true warrior of Gondor, I never
intended for him to take up arms in the Shire. And we heard that Merridock
was equally persistent in showing his new skills in battle."
The Elf lord chucked at the words. "I fear that the stories were
accurate. We always wondered what would happen when Halflings were let
loose on Middle Earth. Now it is time to see the results." He decided
to gently change the subject a bit. "We should have ample time
to discuss our friends. I would like you to join me and the household
tonight for dinner and then listen to the songs in the Hall of Fire."
"I would be honored." The Man had heard of the legendary
hospitality at the Last Homely House, but he was still very pleased
to be invited on his first night to dine with the household.
"Then I will escort you to your rooms. I am being a poor host
making you sit in your traveling clothes after you have reached more
comfortable surroundings," Elrond smiled. "There is a bath
waiting for you and your things should have been unpacked by now."
He stood and Faramir followed his lead.
The Steward hesitated for a moment after putting his now empty teacup
back on the small table. "I must thank you, my Lord," he said
softly, holding himself a bit stiffly suddenly. "The king and queen
were most grateful that you were able to take me in."
Elrond raise his eyebrows at the words and Faramir's depressed tone.
"I am grateful that you were able to come and stay this winter,"
Elrond said firmly. "I consider myself to be fortunate to have
your company." Faramir looked about to protest and the Elf raised
a hand slightly. "Tomorrow we will talk about what has brought
you here; tonight, I am welcoming my honored guest. I will hear no other
talk." He looked at the young man sternly, and then smiled to let
Faramir know that his words were meant kindly. Faramir nodded and then
followed his host upstairs.
Chapter Two
Rivendell was merry that night as the Elves and their guests enjoyed
the autumn colors and feasting. The musicians began playing even before
dinner was finished and everyone chose to forgo dessert and instead
go to the Hall of Fire to enjoy the singing and dancing.
During dinner, Elrond continued his study of his new patient. He did
not approve of how little Faramir ate, but said nothing, knowing that
it was too early to begin imposing his healer's directions on his guest.
He wanted Faramir to relax after his journey and enjoy a sample of Rivendell's
hospitality. Hopefully, the Steward would be content in his time spent
with the Elves. In his letter, Aragorn mentioned that Faramir spoke
some Elvish, and Elrond reminded himself to arrange for a tutor for
the young Steward. It would give him something productive to occupy
his mind with while his body rested.
Elrond also noticed others things about his patient, chief of which
was Faramir's beauty. The Elf Lord recalled thinking at the coronation
that the new Steward was handsome, but now he had to firmly revise that
opinion. Faramir was beautiful, his gentle soul adding softness to his
perfect features. In the light from the fires, his hair took on a golden
shine that drew one's attention, and his eyes were bright with interest
as he watched the singers and dancers. His neatly trimmed beard added
to his charm, making him stand out from the Elves.
The Lord of Rivendell realized that a number of Elves were giving the
mortal long, lingering looks, and guessed that he was not alone in admiring
the Human. Faramir had a certain air and grace about him that the Elves
noticed and appreciated. He was beautiful and unattached; if he wished,
there would likely be a number of suitors vying for his private time
this winter.
"You rooms are satisfactory?" Erestor asked. The advisor
was sitting to Elrond's left at the table, and he too had taken a liking
to the young Man. Erestor had been one of the many Elves looking at
the Steward with interest, and Elrond found himself unsure how he felt
about this. He did not desire Erestor as a lover, so why was he feeling
rather uneasy all of a sudden?
"They are wonderful," Faramir said truthfully. The suite
of rooms was comfortable and there was something familiar about them.
A servant had mentioned that the rooms were in the family area of the
home, and Faramir was surprised at being placed there. He ventured to
say so to the Elf Lords and saw them smile.
"They are Estel's rooms," Elrond explained. "He specifically
directed that you stay there."
Dark eyebrows rose in surprise and Faramir took a nervous sip of wine.
"I hardly expected that, my Lord," he said shyly. Now that
he knew who the rooms belonged to, he could indeed see some signs of
Aragorn in the books that the king so loved to have about. Faramir had
already spied several books that he longed to read.
"You are to make yourself at home, both in those rooms and in
the entire house," Elrond said firmly. "Tomorrow someone will
show you the libraries and studies. They will welcome having another
scholar in them, and there are many maps that I think should be copied
this winter and sent back to Gondor to supplement the libraries there;
I would ask your advice in what to send first."
Faramir's eyes lit up at the suggestion and he happily promised to
help however he could. Elrond exchanged a smile with Erestor, and knew
that they had found at least one way to channel the young man's restless
energy into a safe pursuit that would keep him from dwelling on the
war and his battles.
Elrond mentally reviewed the preparations that had been made to Estel's
rooms to receive their new occupant. The softest mattress and warmest
blankets that Rivendell had to offer had been installed in Faramir's
room and the last of the season's flowers had been carefully dried to
preserve their sweet smell through the winter. Arwen sent a list of
books that she thought Faramir might like, and they were brought from
the main library for the young Steward. Elrond hoped that Faramir would
be happy in his new surroundings.
Faramir was obviously taken with the Elvish entertainment, but his
eyes were growing more weary and Elrond decided to retire early for
the evening, confident that Faramir would be courteously follow his
lead. He was correct, as the young Man stood when he did and politely
said that he too, would retire. They left the Hall and made their way
to the family wing of the house.
Elrond paused outside the door to Faramir's room; his own room was
just down a hall. "I am most pleased to have you here," he
said, willing the young man to believe him. "I look forward to
our time together."
"As do I, my Lord," Faramir answered politely. He was suddenly
very tired, feeling that the journey had caught up with him. He was
looking forward to sleeping in a bed again.
"Then I bid you good night," Elrond smiled. "Erestor
will no doubt come to see you in the morning and ensure that the rooms
are to your liking; he takes pride in knowing everything about the Last
Homely House. I hope to see you at breakfast."
"Of course," Faramir said quietly, bowing before his host.
He guessed that Elrond was waiting for him to enter his rooms and he
did so.
Elrond waited for a few minutes outside the door, then sighed and returned
to his study. The fire had died down a bit, casting shadows on the walls.
In one of the side chairs was a pensive figure waiting for Elrond. The
healer saw him as he entered and he shook his head, knowing the question
that was about to be asked.
"We must wait a time," he said firmly. "He is not ready
for such news at present. I would like to give him a week, perhaps two,
to rest and begin to regain some of the weight he lost and his strength."
The visitor briefly closed his eyes, but nodded in agreement. "I
watched him from the Hall while you ate. He does not look well."
"Faramir had a long journey, and he believes that he has somehow
failed Aragorn and others by being sent here," Elrond said regretfully.
"Things will look better for him when he has had some time to rest."
"I will leave then for a time. Thank you for what you are doing,
my friend." The visitor rose and quietly left the room.
Elrond sat down in his chair and starred into the flames of the fire,
lost in thought. What was it about this young mortal that was drawing
more than his professional attention? He thought about the visitor that
had left and shook his head. Things were far too complicated and Faramir
would need all his strength in the time to come.
The cheerful sounds of birds having their early breakfast greeted Faramir
when he awoke the next morning. He lay in the soft bed for a time, groggily
reflecting that he had slept very deeply the night before. Looking about
the room and seeing things laid out for a morning bath, he realized
that a servant had been there and he had not even awoken. A bit surprised
at this, he left the bed and pulled on the warm robe that had been laid
out for him.
The bath was a delight and he thoroughly enjoyed the unusual luxury
of not having to rush to Council meetings, or sessions with the soldiers.
And the bath in this room was far larger than his at Gondor, almost
as large as the suite now used by the king. His clothes had been unpacked
while he was dinning the night before and were hanging in neat rows
in the closets. He dressed in a rich green tunic that had been a gift
from Arwen and had mysteriously found its way into his belongings that
were packed for his stay in Rivendell. Arwen had embroidered the white
tree symbol of Gondor on the collar and sleeves herself, and looking
through the closets, he saw a number of new outfits that bore her work.
He had just returned to the main room when there was a polite knock
on the door.
"Enter," he called, and he was not surprised to see that
Erestor was in fact making his first visit. He bowed to the Elf Lord,
feeling uncomfortably flatted that Lord Elrond was seeing to his comfort
by sending his own personal advisor. Surely he did not merit such attention.
"Good morning," Erestor smiled at the Human, seeing his faint
blush. He had been told the story of what Faramir had endured before
and during the War and he had a deep respect for the young man. A powerful
and brave soul obviously resided in that quite body. Erestor had not
met many Men before, and he was looking forward to knowing this young
one better. "I hope you slept well last night?"
"I did indeed, Lord Erestor," Faramir assured him.
"Esestor is fine to call me," the Elf smiled. "And may
I take the liberty of calling you by your name? You remind me much of
Estel, and he never did take well to formality; neither does Elrond."
Faramir smiled in return. "The king still does not often stand
on formality," he said ruefully. He was at times quite unsure how
to act around the king and queen. Denethor had always demanded the strictest
of protocol from his younger son, and Faramir had no idea how to behave
otherwise. It was rather unnerving for him to deal with a king who insisted
he be addressed by his first name most of the time.
"That is good to hear, for no one here insists on formality,"
Erestor assured him. He was pleased to see Faramir's blush recede, and
took that as a hopeful sign that the young Human would soon relax in
the Last Homely House. Everyone was determined to do their best to help
heal the Man and Erestor knew that Estel and Arwen were entrusting them
with someone very dear to their hearts.
Faramir followed Erestor down to the hall where breakfast was being
served, and found Lord Elrond already present. After a few morning pleasantries,
the healer encouraged Faramir to fill his plate and take a seat at the
table.
Elrond studied his patient again, and was pleased to see that Faramir
looked a bit better after his long rest. He'd had mixed feelings about
secretly administering a sleeping draught to Faramir's wine the night
before, but had justified it in that no healing could begin until the
young man was rested. Seeing his eyes look brighter, Elrond knew that
he had made the right decision. He would continue to secretly give Faramir
a sedative as long as he felt it was necessary.
The Steward did seem far more relaxed this morning, and he seemed to
enjoy the relaxed chatter of the household assembled for breakfast.
Glorfindel was present, and Elrond knew that the Barlog slayer would
find a willing audience in the young Human for his tales. He made a
mental note to remind Glorfindel, however, that Faramir was here to
rest and he hoped that Faramir would not be tempted to ride out hunting
with the warriors.
Faramir inquired about his Rangers who had accompanied him and Glorfindel
and Elrond took him out the warrior barracks where his men had been
made welcome among the Elves. There was already some friendly jousting
planned as the Elves were eager to try their skills against the Rangers,
and vice versa. The five soldiers had quickly settled happily among
their fellow warriors, and they were glad to see their Captain. Elrond
noticed that all of them were older than Faramir, and although they
were completely proper and respectful, there was an air familiarity
as they talked to the Steward. Aragorn had been careful to pick only
those he was assured who were most loyal to Faramir, and Elrond knew
they had careful orders to make sure that Faramir recovered this winter.
His thought was confirmed when the oldest of the Rangers, Damrod, practically
shooed the young man back to the main house. "We are fine as can
be, Captain," he said a bit gruffly as he firmly escorted Faramir
to the door of the barracks. "Stop worrying about the likes of
us. Now get yourself back inside and get to following the king's orders;
he'll have my hide if you take sick again." The Ranger fixed his
gaze firmly on the Elf Lord. "I'm certain that Master Elrond knows
what's best for you." Elrond understood the Man's unspoken words,
and bowed slightly to the wise Human. Damrod had indicated that he trusted
the Elf with his captain, but only if he felt that Faramir were being
taken care of properly. Elrond had no intention of causing the old Ranger
any doubt.
Faramir seemed a bit subdued as they returned to the main house and
Elrond raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Your men care for you a
great deal," he said, hoping to draw Faramir out of his quiet musings.
"And I for them," Faramir answered. He managed a small smile.
"The king ensured that the most persistent of my would-be nannies
accompanied me. They should be back in Gondor helping with the reconstruction
instead of here with me."
Elrond guided Faramir into his study and gestured for the young man
to take seat by the windows. "Why do you think that you are not
worthy of their attention?" he asked directly.
Blue eyes seemed startled for a moment, - and then Faramir resumed
his usual calm mask. "Because I am not," he said, his tone
flat.
"Why?" Elrond persisted. He would not allow a change of topic
until he was satisfied.
"They should be at home," Faramir repeated. "But they
were kind enough to agree to baby-sit me." He looked apologetically
at the Elf. "I mean no disrespect, Lord Elrond, but surly you all
have better things to do than look after me."
One dark eyebrow rose as Elrond took a chair beside Faramir. This young
one was going to be a challenge, indeed, he mussed. "Your men are
very loyal to you, and they willing accompanied you here in hopes that
you would find healing. You are usually quite observant, Faramir, except
in matters where you are concerned. Estel, Arwen, and your Rangers care
very much for you. Why is that so difficult to accept?"
Damn the persistent Elf, Faramir thought darkly as he accepted a cup
of tea. "I am.was." he hesitated and shook his head. "I
am just the second son; I never expected to be anything other than a
Ranger, and certainly not the Steward."
Elrond nodded in understanding. He knew that Faramir had loved his
brother deeply and the feelings had been returned. "Boromir was
a good man, and if you wish, I would be glad to share with you tales
of when he was here. He impressed many in Imladris during his stay."
He smiled in a conspiracy manner. "He and Glorfindel jousted several
times, and I suspect from Glorfindel's mood that he was defeated at
least once by your brother." Faramir smiled and it lit up his face
again.
"But," Elrond continued, "you are also a great man,
my young prince, and it is time you begin to realize that. You have
pushed yourself too hard while still recovering from your wounds in
the War. For the good of your people, you must heal. You will not be
able to help anyone if you continued to be ill."
Faramir looked faintly guilty at that observation, and Elrond knew
he had found a key to getting Faramir to accept his healing. Faramir
would do anything to help the king and the people of Gondor, even if
it meant submitting to a healer. This tactic would work for now, but
Elrond knew he had to eventually convince Faramir of his own worth.
Elrond suspected that much of Faramir's insecurity lay with Denethor,
but he knew it was far too soon to broach that subject. The Elf truly
had no desire to raise his name until it was necessary; he had never
liked any of what he had heard of the late Steward. His opinion had
moved even lower after learning about Denethor's final madness.
Faramir's words about his role in life concerned the Elf. The race
of Men seldom allowed their children freedom to choose their own path.
Elrond was a healer of great renown, but he had never blindly expected
his sons to share his devotion to the healing arts. They were free to
do as they chose.
Faramir would not have chosen to be a warrior, Elrond thought. He had
become one only because of Gondor's need and the fact that he was a
son of the Steward who expected his son to be mighty in battle. In one
respect, they shared that in common; Elrond had had no love of being
a warrior. His sword was needed in the time of war, but his healing
abilities were more valuable than his fighting skills. Faramir could
be the greatest healer in Middle Earth, and his father would not have
allowed him to do anything other than fight.
They were both reluctant warriors, the Elf decided. Faramir's heart
and soul belonged to a scholar. He was an accomplished Captain and his
men were devoted to him, but his heart was not that of a fighter. Perhaps
the men in his command sensed that, Elrond mused. They were protective
of him and loyal because of his undisputed bravery and his determination
to master the skills of war. He had mastered them, and become a warrior
of undisputed skills, but it was not his destiny in life.
Elrond had put away his weapons after the Battle of the Last Alliance.
Perhaps Faramir would be able to do the same now. It was time he was
allowed to become who he wanted to be.
"Winter is a time for many things to heal," Elrond said aloud.
"I am pleased to have you here, and I hope that in time I will
win your confidence." The guilty look increased on the Human's
face and Elrond smiled again. "That is a matter I may obtain only
in due course. For now, will you accept my friendship and hospitality
this winter?"
A slight smile graced the thin lines of Faramir's face. "I think
I would like that, my Lord," he said softly. "Matters were.difficult.
at times in Gondor." Elrond knew that Faramir referred to the memories
of the War, and even older memories of a harsh parent.
"Then let us begin," Elrond said. "My daughter and foster
son sent you here for rest and I am pleased to be your healer. But for
me to carry out my duties as such, I should examine you."
He saw Faramir stiffen at the words. "That is hardly necessary,
my Lord," the Man protested.
Elrond shook his head, his dark hair moving slightly on his shoulders.
"It must be done," he said mildly. "I would be amiss
in my duties as you healer if I do not. Will you trust me in this?"
There was a long pause, and Elrond knew that Faramir was evaluating
him in some manner. He could only look at the suddenly hooded light
eyes, and hope that he passed the test. A long pause, then Faramir nodded
ever so slightly.
Elrond silently released a breath that he was not even aware that he
had been holding. It mattered to him very much that Faramir trusted
him, even beyond his healer's role. He wanted Faramir to trust him in
every way. It was a puzzle why, but his heart knew it was true.
Chapter Three
Faramir tried very hard to not flinch as the Elf's warm hands examined
him. He wanted to race out of the healing house, but he had promised
the king to obey Lord Elrond's orders, and right now he was under orders
to lay quietly. It would likely be easier to face a herd of Orcs, he
thought sourly.
For his part, Elrond was quiet and Faramir could not guess at what
the Elf was thinking. Elrond calmly and gently examined him, asking
once or twice about the wounds that he encountered. The scar from the
Southern dart was still red and angry; despite Aragron's efforts, it
had never fully healed. It ached at times, but now Elrond's touch seemed
to soothe it a bit and Faramir was silently grateful. Other small scars
were obvious in their cause – the marks of any warrior, and Elrond
made no comment on them.
"Turn over onto your stomach now, if you please," Elrond
said. He waited patiently, and finally Faramir obeyed him. The Man lay
as stiff as stone, his fists clenched. Elrond busied himself with checking
the rest of the Human's back, finally satisfied that there were no fresh
wounds other than the dart. He stepped away from the bed, signaling
that the exam was over, and Faramir quickly and gratefully sat up.
Elrond smiled at him, noting the uncomfortable look on the Steward's
face. "Erestor mentioned earlier that he would show you the main
library," he said. "I have a few other patients to see to
here, why don't you go to the house? Erestor is likely to be in the
hall at this hour overseeing dinner preparations."
Faramir pulled on his shirt and stood up, an uncertain expression in
his eyes. He seemed to be expecting some lecture or questions, but looked
grateful at Elrond's suggestion. "We will talk, young one,"
Elrond said, holding up one hand. "But it can wait."
"Of course," Faramir said quickly, and Elrond's eyes laughed
at the Human's obvious distaste for any such discussion. Faramir looked
rather like a young child hoping to put off some punishment and the
Elf was amused. Moving with a speed matched only by the twins when they
were trying to evade their father's wrath, Faramir bowed and fairly
raced out of the room.
Elrond chuckled to himself as he put some things back in order on the
end table. Faramir reminded him much of young Estel and the Elf knew
that he would have his hands full this winter. He had never encountered
a worse patient than Estel, but Faramir seemed bent on winning that
distinction.
Once his herbal was in order, Elrond sighed and took a moment to compose
his thoughts. Erestor was indeed waiting for Faramir, so he had not
told a complete falsehood, but he would have found some excuse to send
Faramir away if the advisor was not waiting. He needed answers to his
questions, and there were some answers that he would not find from Faramir.
The Elf lord headed toward the warrior's barracks, stopping to make
some inquires from young trainees. He was directed to one of the training
fields where three of the Human Rangers were participating in a weapon
exercise. Damrod was easy to spot, the older man standing out from the
Elves with his beard and bulky frame. The Ranger saw the Elf lord approaching
and excused himself from the next drill.
"Good afternoon," Elrond greeted him. Damrod returned the
greeting, but then settled immediately to business.
"How's the Captain?" he demanded. His gruff manner concealed
his obvious concern, and Elrond knew he could count on this Human for
aid in dealing with the Steward. He appreciated Damrod's bluntness and
decided to respond in turn, knowing the Man would understand.
"How ever did you manage to get him to Imladris?" Elrond
turned, gesturing for the Man to walk with him. He had been rather shocked
at how thin Faramir truly was and just his brief superficial exam had
revealed extreme exhaustion and pain. It was a wonder he had managed
the journey.
The Ranger snorted as they left the others and walked down one of the
isolated paths. "It was a strange thing," he commented. "My
horse threw not one but two shoes, requiring a full day's stop. Then
one of the pack ponies went lame and made us stop often and let the
beast rest. While it rested, we rested too, of course; including the
Captain."
Elrond raised a dark eyebrow. "And Faramir did not realize that
you were travelling slowly so he could rest each day?"
Damrod looked at the Elf. "What do you think?" he countered
dryly. He nodded at the expression on Elrond's face. "The Captain
can read men better than any wizard I've ever heard of, and he's no
fool. He knew all right, but what could he do? We had him outnumbered,
all the horses were secured at night so he couldn't sneak away, and
we had the king's leave to truss him up like a deer if necessary and
deliver him to you. He wasn't happy at us coddling him but we got him
here in one piece and more or less under his own power. But if this
valley had been much further, we would have arrived with him tied to
a litter."
The Elf sighed, knowing that the Ranger was not exaggerating. "I
sent a dispath to Gondor last night that you arrived; they will be glad
to hear it." Damrod nodded in agreement.
"Two of us who accompanied him are also healers in our modest
way. The king knew to pick those would be able to keep him going and
make him get here." The man stopped and looked directly at the
Elf. "Now answer my question, if you please. How is he doing today?"
Elrond smiled inwardly at the Man's concern. It was good that Faramir
had such loyal men. "My daughter and the king sent letters detailing
his injuries and health. He is as poor as the letters warned. It is
nothing that cannot heal, but it will take time. He is severely underweight,
and obviously in pain from his recent wounds. He may be developing a
cold, and if he does, it will not be easily cured." Elrond had
noticed a hitch in the Man's breathing that usually indicated a growing
chest cold.
"He hardly sleeps," Damrod added. "And when he does,
it is filled with nightmares."
Elrond appraised the Man for a moment before speaking. "And do
you know some of what may haunt those dreams?"
Damrod met his gaze directly, obviously doing his own assessment of
the Elf. A pause, and then he nodded shortly. "Some think that
warriors blindly follow whoever is the leader of their people, regardless
of that leader's value. Those who think that are blasted fools. True
warriors will follow their leader to their death, but they choose
who they will die for. Not a one in the Gondor company who knows the
Captain would refuse to follow him. I cannot say the same for previous
leaders of Gondor." A cool breeze was in the air, and Elrond looked
at the trees for a moment, hearing something like a sigh on the wind.
It reflected his thoughts and fears. Damrod would not directly say so,
but it was obviously that he was referring to the late Steward.
Elrond turned back to the warrior, knowing that Damrod was placing
vast confidence in him by speaking thusly. "And now?" he asked.
Damrod straightened, looking every inch the proud warrior. "We
are loyal to the king, my lord, never fear. But we will also never lose
our devotion to the Captain. We want to see him healed and returned
to us."
The Lord of Rivendell bowed to the Man. "Then I welcome your help.
It will take all of us to heal this soul."
Elrond found Faramir with Erestor in the library, and he again wondered
at why he was slightly irritated at the sight of his advisor so obviously
enamored with the Steward. He then guessed from Erestor's somewhat frustrated
look that Faramir was completely oblivious to Erestor's attempts at
mild flirting, and this pleased him.
"My Lord," Faramir stood when he saw Elrond enter the room
and Erestor followed.
"Sit," Elrond said in a friendly tone, waving them to sit
back at the table where they were examining books. "Have you found
things already to study?"
"Your libraries are unbelievable," Faramir enthused, his
eyes bright with excitement. "I hardly know where to start."
Erestor smiled at the Human's eagerness. "I am trying to convince
him that the books will not run away if he leaves here." Faramir
blushed a little, but managed to smile in return.
"They will not," Elrond assured him. He glanced at Erestor,
and the advisor read the message in his eyes. "Fararmir, may I
borrow Erestor from you? One of the secretaries asked for him on my
way here."
Faramir quickly gave his agreement, and Elrond saw Erestor to the door.
The advisor understood Elrond's intent and quietly left, making certain
to close the door behind him. Then he stood watch at the end of the
hall to see that Elrond and his patient were not disturbed.
Faramir put the book he had been looking at back on the table and straightened
a bit as Elrond returned and took a chair across the table from him.
His body went a bit rigid and a cautious look was in his eye. Elrond
was a bit nonplussed at the change, wondering what had brought that
on.
"Do I assume correctly, Lord Elrond, that we will have that talk
now?" Faramir inquired. His tone was still respectful, but Elrond
detected a certain tone in it as well. It sounded exactly like one of
his son's when they were expecting a lecture.
"I believe so," Elrond answered. He smoothed his robes and
studied the young man. Faramir once again looked like a young child
caught at doing something he knew was forbidden. "And do you know
what I am going to say?"
The Steward tried to assume an innocent look, then let it fade as Elrond
raised an eyebrow. "It is similar to what the king said?"
At Elrond's nod, Faramir sighed. He straightened his shoulders and began
reciting in a perfect imitation of Aragorn's voice and mannerisms. "Too
thin! Not rested enough to recover from that wound. You need more sleep.
I am the king and you will listen to me for once!"
Elrond couldn't help but smile at the import performance, his lips
twitching despite his efforts to be stern. Faramir apparently had talents
for acting, as well. "That is my diagnosis," he agreed dryly.
"Now we will discuss what will be done to treat the patient."
Faramir looked a bit guilty at his imitation now and did his best to
try to match the Elf's seriousness. "I apologize, my Lord,"
he started hesitantly. "My sense of humor tends to show at the
most inopportune times."
Elrond held up a hand to end the apology. "It was a fine impersonation,"
he said, "and if word gets around that you can imitate our Estel
so well, you will be asked for many performances this winter."
He smiled at the embarrassed look on Faramir's face. "And now,
young one, no more stalling." He folded his hands in his lap and
assumed his healer's calm expression. Faramir sighed and settled back
to hear the lecture.
"You are far too thin, and this will be addressed immediately.
Since we take our meals together, I will be ensuring that you eat adequately."
Faramir looked down sheepishly, knowing that the Elf lord would likely
count every bite going into his mouth. "I am preparing several
medicines that you will take every day without argument. And you will
rest."
Blue eyes looked nervously at the Elf. "I am sorry to be such
trouble, my lord," he said hesitantly.
"And," Elrond continued smoothly, "you will get it through
your head, young one, that you are not trouble to anyone. There are
many who care about you. Let us help!" He looked sternly at the
man and was rewarded with a shy smile. It made Elrond smile in return.
Chapter Four
Over the next two weeks, Faramir became a familiar sight
in the libraries. He was hesitant about over staying his welcome, but
the archivists finally convinced him that they were happy to have him
visit, and the young man was soon found happily curled up with books
or maps in the afternoons. Elrond was especially pleased to find the
man even napping at times, a book resting protectively on his chest,
and took heart that there was some progress with his patient.
Despite his compliance with the new medical program, Faramir developed
a cough. It did not escape Elrond's notice, and he added more medicines
to the tonics that Faramir reluctantly took in the mornings and evenings.
The first time Elrond had handed him two cups of medical brew that were
to be consumed with breakfast, Faramir had looked ready to growl. He
quickly changed his expression at seeing the Elf's raised eyebrow and
obeyed.
He also sat patiently for healing sessions with Elrond each afternoon,
allowing the Elf to tend to the persistent dart wound. Elrond could
still feel some poison and darkness around the injury, and silently
reflected it was amazing that Faramir had endured so long with such
a hurt. It appeared that the young Steward had some of the toughness
of Hobbits in surviving wounds that would take down most other beings.
Elrond watched over his guest carefully, and was pleased to see his
entire household following suit. Erestor found books to keep the young
Human occupied and the advisor began tutoring Faramir in Elvish. Each
night Faramir sat in the Hall of Fire where he enjoyed the songs and
stories, and he became more animated as he grew comfortable in his new
home.
Faramir slowly blossomed under everyone's care, truly relaxed for perhaps
the first time in his life. He looked a bit longingly the first times
the hunters rode out without him, clearly having always joined them
in Gondor, but his attention was easily diverted to the books and maps.
Glorfindel and Damrod marched Faramir back to the main house the one
time he tried to take part in the daily drills and he had to sat through
a scolding from Elrond and Erestor. He sulked for a day, then relented
and let the matter drop.
Elrond found himself watching Faramir intently during those evenings
in the Hall, and he drew closer to the Man. Faramir already looked more
rested, and Elrond continued to quietly administer his patient a mild
sedative at night to ensure that he slept. Some of the shadows were
leaving the pale face, and the Man's beauty grew each day in Elrond's
eyes.
He didn't realize that his admiration of Faramir had become so clear
until Erestor raised the subject one afternoon. They were going over
the household accounts and the advisor looked at Elrond with an amused,
fond expression as they settled back with tea.
"What are you smiling at so, my friend?" Elrond asked curiously.
"I am smiling at you," Erestor responded, his eyes twinkling.
"It is good to see you this way.
Elrond ran the words over in his head. "In what way?" he
asked, very puzzled. Erestor chuckled.
"Have you looked at yourself in a mirror recently?" he teased.
"You are mooning over him like a youngster."
A dark eyebrow rose and Elrond frowned. "What ever are you talking
about?"
"Faramir," Erestor answered simply. "I think you love
him, my friend."
"What?" Elrond was stunned at his friend's words. He put
down his cup of tea and frowned, agitated. "I don't know what you
mean."
Erestor sighed, but still smiled. "It is obvious in your eyes,
even if your stubborn mind has not paid attention yet. You glow when
he walks into the room or even when his name is mentioned. He coughs,
and you grow alarmed and fuss over him like a mother hen."
"I am his healer," Elrond protested.
The advisor grinned. "Yes, you are, but I think there is more.
You growl at anyone who takes Faramir from your side. Have you not noticed
that every night in the Hall you sit by his side and no one comes between
you? One of the musicians asked Faramir's opinion on a new song the
other night and your expression could only be described as extremely
jealous."
Elrond pondered those words, then sighed, sinking into his chair. Valar!
He cared about Faramir, of course; had it evolved into something more?
He searched his heart and then buried his face in his hands for a moment
before looking up at his friend.
"I do love him," he said. He had known this almost from the
first day, but refused to admit it or give voice to his emotions.
Erestor laid a hand on his shoulder. "Why does that distress you,
my friend?" he asked. "Surely this is a happy moment?"
"I do not know," Elrond replied, his tone nearly distressed.
"I should not harbor this feeling for one of my patients!"
To his irritation, Erestor simply started laughing. Elrond glared at
him and it made the advisor laugh more. "Elrond, "Erestor
finally managed to say, "you would have to be a very poor healer
to not realize how special our young Human is. Your being his healer
is not a determent. What is the real reason you have not admitted this
attraction to yourself?"
Elrond looked out the window, watching the wind toss the few remaining
leave about the balcony. Snow would come in a few days, and Rivendell
would be blanketed in winter's grip. "He came here to heal, not
to find love," he said quietly.
"Why can he not find both?" Erestor argued. "What is
in your path?" Elrond remained silent, and Erestor laid a hand
over his. "What troubles your mind? Celebrain set you free to find
love again, my friend. She would not want you to be unhappy and lonely
for the rest of your time on Arda."
"She did set me free," Elrond agreed quietly. "I have
taken a few lovers since she sailed as she told me specifically to look
for happiness after she left. I know what I would want, but it is not
fair to place any burden on Faramir."
A dark eyebrow rose as Erestor looked incredulously at the other Elf.
"Your love would be a burden?" he asked, unable to believe
what he was hearing.
Elrond stood and began pacing, his thoughts whirling about like the
leaves. "He has gone through so much! I am just beginning to gain
his trust. He needs a confidant and friend while he heals."
"Why can he not have a lover as well?" Erestor was very determined
to make his friend see the good in this potential relationship. "Surely
would not a lover be his best confidant and support?"
"He must return to his duties in Gondor," Elrond said weakly.
Erestor's lips twitched. "Ah, and he will be so enamored of you
that he will never recover?"
Elrond was about to reply, but stopped and considered the comment.
He saw Erestor start to grin and had to shake his head at his own words.
"Alright, my friend, you have me there," he admitted dryly.
"You could offer him comfort and healing in his heart as well
as his body," Erestor continued smoothly. "I do not think
that Faramir has known love before, save the love of his brother. He
needs to feel special, Elrond, by one who loves him. And I do not think
that your love would be rejected by him," he added.
Elrond looked up quickly. "You know something?"
"Only what I see in his eyes and face. He watches you as closely
as you watch him; it is like seeing a dance between you two." Erestor
smiled ruefully. "You are certainly not the only one taken with
our guest, Elrond. There are a number who would be delighted to spend
private time with him, myself included. But you are the only one he
watches in that manner. Faramir is of Numenorean blood, and you two
would be well suited. Should you not at least see if he is open to the
possibility?"
Elrond sighed and folded his hands. "I will think on this. Faramir
will certainly need someone soon to confide in." His eyes looked
to the window again, and something in the air whispered to him. "There
is going to be a revelation soon, and I fear for him."
Chapter Five
Winter arrived in full force the next day in Rivendell, blanketing
the grounds with a thick cover of snow. Most of the valley celebrated
the first snow, even elves many thousand of years old merrily pelting
one another with snowballs. Faramir joined a group of young warriors
building several forts and engaged in a few fierce battles, but did
not stay outside too long for he found himself chilled after a few hours,
despite being warmly dressed. Reluctantly, he retreated inside and found
Lord Elrond and Erestor in the main hall with cups of hot chocolate.
He cheerfully joined them by the windows, watching the snow fights from
the warm safety of the den.
"Ouch!" Erestor winced as one young elfing went down after
a particularly fierce barrage of snowballs. The youngster jumped up
quickly, however, and retaliated. "Were we ever this rambunctious?"
he asked Elrond, frowning at the number of snow missiles that came perilously
close to the windows.
"We were far worse, my friend," Elrond chuckled, sharing
a smile with Faramir. "And I fear that some are setting a bad example
for our guest," he added. Faramir was still weak and his nagging
cough had been joined by a sore throat that persisted despite the daily
medical brews Elrond prepared. Elrond hadn't liked seeing his patient
romping through the wet snow, but he had also seen the smile on the
Man's face, and knew that he was enjoying himself. He contented himself
with seeing that some medicine was added to Faramir's drink. Those light
eyes silently informed Elrond that Faramir was aware that his mug contained
something in addition to chocolate, but the Steward had said nothing.
"I thought elves were fierce with arrows, but that is nothing
compared to a snowball," Faramir remarked in amusement, savoring
the feel of the warm mug in his hands. Elrond pulled a blanket over
Faramir's lap and the Steward sighed, but accepted it. "I will
have to inform His Majesty that time may be wasted on preparing arrows.
The smiths should be concocting snowballs instead, or better yet, arrows
with flames to melt your arsenal."
"He has found our secret weapon," Erestor said, deadpan,
looking at Elrond.
The Elf Lord smiled at his advisor and guest, inclining his head slightly.
"It was a fool's hope that only Estel would know our secret prowess
with throwing snowballs," he commented.
"Well, I –" Faramir paused in his rejoined for a fierce
sneeze. Erestor was a bit startled, for Elves did not get sick, but
Elrond was prepared for this event.
"Upstairs with you now," he ordered lightly, seeing that
the prince had quickly finished his hot drink. "The servants have
a hot bath waiting and some tea prepared for you. A nap might also suit
you before dinner," he added, seeing Faramir yawn. The Steward
looked a bit nonplused and the Elf smiled. "I long ago lost track
of how many times Estel caught cold after playing in the snow. After
much studying, I came to the conclusion that a hot bath and warm drink
are the best methods of preventing such an illness."
Faramir looked slightly insulted at the suggestion that he had been
'playing' in the snow. "We were not playing," he said with
great dignity. "It was winter battle tactics." But he respectfully
took his leave of the Elves and went to his rooms.
He found everything laid out for a perfectly decadent afternoon bath
and nap. Shaking his head a bit, he quickly shed his clothes and relaxed
in the warm water, sighing a bit in relief as the heat soaked through
him. During the past weeks, he had become more than a bit spoiled at
the luxurious baths, enjoying the oils and scents always present. It
was far different from the conditions he had grown up with; only cold
baths and hard camp beds for the younger son of the Steward. Denethor
had claimed that he was too soft, and did not deserve any pampering,
and Faramir had never known differently.
Faramir sipped the cup of tea that he had found waiting for him on
the counter in the bathing chamber and shook his head. So many things
were different now, he thought morosely. Boromir was dead, and somehow
he -so completely unworthy- had become Steward. Denethor had never expected
his younger son to become Steward, and Faramir had certainly never wanted
it in the least.
He angrily forced himself to snap out of his dark thoughts. He was
weak indeed, he thought, to allow himself to be pulled into such sadness
whenever he thought of his father and brother. Why was he so emotional?
Angry, yet exhausted, Faramir rose from the bath and dried himself
off. Pulling on the warm nightshirt that had been laid out by the fire,
he retreated to bed and fell into an exhausted sleep.
The Hall of Fire was full and merry that night with everyone celebrating
the first snow. There were many tales of snowstorms of the past, some
of which turned into elaborate humorous stories. Faramir tried unsuccessfully
to suppress his laughter as he listened to Glorfindel and Erestor argue
over who had gotten colder centuries earlier during a hunting trip.
Both seemed determined to win the unofficial title of "ice elf",
and their squabbling caused much laughter in the hall. Faramir wandered
toward one of the sideboards where refreshments were laid out and was
near the door when it opened and a new guest arrived. It took him a
moment to recognize the figure, covered in snow.
"Mithrandir" he exclaimed in delight, surprised to see the
wizard.
"Aye, Faramir, it is good to see you, my lad." Gandalf shook
his hat, causing more snow to fall from the brim. "I think I've
discovered a disadvantage to being Gandalf the White; I can't see where
my bloody clothes end and the snow begins!"
"Surely you thought of this before," Elrond commented, appearing
behind Faramir. The Elf Lord bowed slightly to the wizard in welcome.
"We were rather expecting you before the snow flew."
Gandalf sighed, accepted a towel from a helpful she-elf with a smile,
and dried his face. "And I planed to be here, but this snow storm
came earlier than I expected." Elrond appeared and the Wizard was
welcomed into the Hall.
Gandalf kept busy for the next few days, sharing news of his travels,
and happily entertaining the Hall of Fire with stories. Faramir saw
little of him, but knew that the wizard no doubt had very serious and
important matters to speak with Elrond and his advisors. Gandalf had
announced that he planned to stay the winter at Rivendell, and Faramir
was content that he would have plenty of time to visit with his old
tutor. He continued in his new routine of studying in the libraries,
sorting materials to send to Gondor, and resting.
The morning of Gandalf's third day in Rivendell, Faramir was surprised
to look up from one of his books and find Elrond looking at him. "Am
I disturbing you?" the elf asked.
"No, of course not," Faramir answered quickly. He didn't
know why his heart beat a little faster when he was with the Elf Lord,
and frankly, he wasn't sure he liked it. He gestured to a nearby chair,
but Elrond shook his head slightly.
"I was wondering if you would join me in my study, " he asked,
his voice musical as always, but with a tone Faramir had not heard before.
One of the healer's hands lightly brushed the Man's brow, checking for
signs of fever. Faramir had become used to the gesture and let Elrond
conduct the brief exam. "We must speak."
"Certainly." Faramir was puzzled, but followed the elf to
his private study. He was even more surprised when he entered the room
and found Gandalf waiting in a chair. "Mithrandir," he greeted,
bowing slightly.
Gandalf smiled at him and stood, taking one of Faramir's hands. "My
dear boy, it is good to see you," the wizard said, his eyes intently
studying the young steward. "I do apologize for not speaking with
you earlier."
Faramir brushed the apology aside lightly. "I know that you have
serious matters to discuss with Lord Elrond." He detected a look
of concern in the wizard's face and frowned. "Is everything well
in Gondor? Are the king and queen well?" He would leave for Minas
Tirith that night if needed at home.
"Everything is fine, perfectly fine," the wizard quickly
assured him. "I crossed paths with a group of Rangers not five
days ago and they say all is well in the city and the lands. You are
sorely missed, but Aragorn is managing to keep the councilors in line."
The wizard glanced behind Faramir and looked at Elrond, who had closed
the door and now joined them. "Please, let us sit," Gandalf
said. "The three of us must talk."
The three were seated in chairs near the fire, and Faramir frowned,
knowing that something was certainly bothering both the elf and the
wizard. If all was well in Gondor, what could it be? He saw Gandalf
fidget with his robe and tried to smile a little. "Is it that bad?"
he asked.
"No," Gandalf answered quickly, then he paused. "I don't
think so. Actually, I have no idea where to begin."
"We have discussed this, Mithrandir," Elrond said, his voice
calm. He looked from the wizard to the Steward. "There is something
you must be told, Faramir. It is not evil news, but it will not be easy
for you to hear. Mithrandir and I knew the time would come; we waited
until you had time to rest and regain some of your strength and health."
Blue eyes studied the older beings carefully, Faramir's face becoming
impassive. It had always been his shield to guard himself from Denethor's
rages as to not let any emotion show. "Then pray tell me know what
it is you must," he said, his voice quiet.
Gandalf looked at the fire, and his eyes took on the gaze of someone
seeing things not visible. "Faramir, I knew for years that the
time would come when Gondor would be besieged. I spent years searching
for answers about the evil we could feel growing, but never suspected
it was the One Ring. Gondor was the place I could feel the dark shadow
the most, and I spent most of my time traveling in that land."
Faramir inclined his head in acknowledgement. "You have long been
well known to the Men of Gondor," he said quietly.
The wizard nodded. "And known to the rulers of Gondor. I am an
old man, and I have known many Stewards. I tried to find answers to
the threat some could sense, and I sought allies in Gondor. Your grandfather
was the first to truly sense the danger, and then… Denethor…"
he trailed off, uncertain how to continue.
Faramir looked at Elrond nervously, and the Elf picked up the story.
"Denethor believed that there was danger, but he thought he could
battle it himself. The moment he became Steward he began to close himself
off, determined that he alone would find the way to save Gondor. He
was not always as you knew him, Faramir, he was full of hope at one
time. But as he saw hints of the danger grow, he became more withdrawn
and refused to let anyone get close to him. Even your mother."
"My mother?" Faramir was confused. Why would she figure in
this story?
"Findulas was full of life and joy," Gandalf said, his voice
growing soft with fondness. "And Denethor loved her as he loved
no other. But from the moment she married and was brought to the city
of stone, she began to fade. Even the birth of her first son could not
sustain her when her husband withdrew from her. Denethor loved her still,
but soon after Boromir's birth he began to disappear into his chambers
for weeks, leaving her alone. Findulas became like a fragile flower,
left on rock to wither."
Faramir clenched his fists, not knowing how to respond. He had been
told many tales about his mother, and all agreed that she had indeed
faded in Minas Tirith. Denethor had in fact blamed his younger son for
her ultimate death, and her name had not been spoken for years. "Why
are you telling me this?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion.
"What possible reason could there be to speak of my mother?"
There was a long silence, filled only with the cracking of the fire.
Then Gandalf finally spoke.
"Your true father was not Denethor. I am."
Chapter Six
"That's…not possible." Faramir was barely aware that
he spoke, all he could do was stare in shock at the wizard. His eyes
flew to Elrond, and the Elf nodded, causing Faramir to gasp. "No,"
he said, his voice faint.
Gandalf was looking at the fire again, unable to meet the Steward's
eyes. "I blame myself," he said heavily. "Your mother
came to me for advice and comfort when Denethor turned her away. I should
have never allowed for it to…" he stopped, shaking his head.
Faramir became aware that Elrond had pressed something into his hand
and found himself holding a small glass. "Drink," the Elf
said, his voice deep and calm. Faramir obeyed, and sipped the minuvor.
It strengthened him and he took a steadying breath after finishing the
glass.
"It was my fault it happened," Gandalf continued, his guilt
visible. "I allowed myself to think that it was comforting her,
but there is no excuse for what I did. I should have gently turned her
away, but I did not. And when I next came to Minas Tirith, there was
a new baby in the household of the Steward, and I realized what had
happened."
Faramir stared at Gandalf. "You knew I was your child?" he
said weakly.
Gandalf sighed. "Yes," he said. "When I first saw you,
you were just a babe in a nurse's arms. But your eyes were as bright
as anything in the hall." Without realizing it, the wizard's voice
grew soft and fond with remembrance. "I recognized you immediately."
"Recognized me?" Faramir asked, puzzled.
"I recognized you as being part Istari," Gandalf said gently.
"We look…different… to each other than as others see
us. There is a certain light, or image, that Istari have."
Faramir frowned, and Gandalf saw the young prince look back and forth
between the wizard and the Elf. He smiled at the puzzled look on the
pale face. "Have you ever noticed something about me? A light perhaps,
or some glow?"
"Yes," Faramir said slowly in wonder. "I thought…I
thought that all could see it." He had long ago stopped noticing
the faint glow that sometimes seemed to surround the wizard, thinking
it was normal for one with magic powers.
"No, only an Istari can see it in another Istari. Thus I knew
immediately that you were my son."
Faramir shook his head, trying to reconcile all the bizarre news. He
looked at Elrond for assurance and the Elf inclined his head slightly.
"Elves normally cannot see the light of the Istari, but there is
something I detect in you that is missing from Men. Perhaps it is an
effect of Vilya's powers." The Elf lord looked at the Ring that
he still wore. "Its strength is dimming since the destruction of
the One Ring, but some abilities linger."
"Your eyes see it clearly, my friend," Gandalf said. "And
I would have known anyway that you were my son, Faramir. My heart told
me the moment I saw you."
Faramir had to nearly remind himself to breathe. "Did my mother
ever talk to you about…me?" he asked.
Gandalf sighed regretfully. "No. This may sound strange, but I
truly do not think that she ever suspected that you were my child. Denethor
did love her; he was still visiting her bed occasionally when he was
not in the tower. It is also a long held belief that Istari cannot have
children, a belief that your lady mother shared. When she introduced
you to me there was no hint that she thought you could be my child."
Faramir looked doubtful, and Gandalf smiled a bit sadly. "Her conscious
was clear, Faramir. She may have felt guilt at lying with me one time,
but she never thought that you were my child."
The Steward paused, uncertain how to phrase his next question. "Did
my…father...know?" he asked, suddenly realizing that he did
not know how to refer to Denethor. He felt as if he was smothering in
confusion.
"No, he never suspected either," Gandalf answered. "No
one knew what took place between your mother and I."
"But perhaps he wondered," Faramir said. He stared off into
the flames of the fire. "Perhaps that is why he hated me so much,"
he whispered sadly.
"He did not hate you, Faramir," the wizard said. He knew
the Man did not believe him and cursed the fact that Faramir was burdened
with those beliefs. If such a thing was in his power, he would not hesitate
to cause those thoughts to leave Faramir, but even an Istari could not
interfere with memories.
"That's why you visited us so much," Faramir continued, slowly
piecing things together in his mind. He had always so looked forward
to those visits, feeling even as a child that there was something special
in the wizard.
Gandalf nodded. "I needed to visit for business, and keep an eye
on you. I could not admit to being your father at the time, but I did
what I could to be there for you."
All the visits, the special gifts, Faramir thought. All the hours spent
with the old wizard smoking his pipe and answering any questions the
curious child had. Faramir had never failed to feel special when Mithrandir
visited. It had truly been bright spots in his childhood. "Is this
why everyone insisted I come here?" he finally managed to ask
"It was time for you to be told the truth of your parentage, Faramir.
And as your wounds did truly require you to come here to heal, it was
decided this would be the best time while you were away from Minas Tirith
and all its memories."
"Does the king know?"
"I told him," Gandalf admitted. "Aragorn needed to know
that you would be coping with yet another shock."
Faramir closed his eyes. No wonder Aragorn had looked at his Steward
so curiously one night. Another thought occurred to the young man and
he looked at Gandalf uncertainty. "I have wondered why you chose
to save me from…the fire," he said hesitantly. "You
wasted time that should have been spent going to the armies."
Gandalf looked up, his eyes suddenly angry. "I wasted time saving
you?" he repeated, disbelief in his tone. "How have you gotten
this insane notion? No, don't say it, I know who told you such nonsense."
The old wizard was so angry he stood and began pacing around the room.
"I've regretted many things in my time, and right now I regret
nothing more than that I did not take you away from Denethor!"
"What?" Faramir was shocked yet again, his eyes wide. Even
Elrond looked unsettled at that statement.
"How could you have done such a thing, Mithrandir," the Elf
asked reasonably. "To reveal Faramir as your son would have also
revealed his mother's one lapse, and her memory deserves better."
"I would not have had to say he was my son," Gandalf argued.
"I could have persuaded Denethor to foster him to me, or better
yet, to you. Faramir should have been brought to Rivendell."
"And that would have separated him from the brother he loved,
and from the only home he knew," Elrond continued calmly. "Then
he would not have been able to help Frodo when he did. Faramir's place
was in Gondor."
Faramir's head turned back and forth, watching the conversation between
the two with a detached fascination. "I would…not have wanted
to leave," he said quietly, his voice uncertain. They heard him
and it made the Elf and wizard turn their attention back to him.
"No, and you were needed elsewhere," Elrond agreed, casting
a look at Gandalf. "We have discussed this before, Mithrandir.
You should bear no guilt; you did everything you could and making Faramir's
true parentage known would have put him at a even greater risk."
He saw Faramir's eyes grow wide in understanding and nodded. "It
could not be risked having anyone learn your ancestry, Faramir. No more
than it could be risked revealing Estel's heritage. You both would have
been hunted."
Gandalf considered those words carefully and then sighed, sitting back
down heavily. "I did…what I thought was right," he said.
"I am a old man, and I question many things, and this will always
remain one of them." He looked at the young man who was staring
at him. "I am sorry, Faramir, for not being able to tell you sooner.
And I am sorry for the pain that I know this is causing you now."
Faramir blinked a little, trying to decide what to say. "I understand,"
he finally murmured. Pale eyes regarded the Elf and wizard, and Elrond
knew that they were silently being judged for their truthfulness. "Why
are you telling me this now?" Faramir asked.
"With the defeat of Sauron, there is no need to hide Estel or
you," Elrond answered calmly. "Still, I think it would be
best that we continue to keep this secret, except for a very few."
Faramir nodded, knowing that if his parentage was revealed, his mother
would be scorned by some in Gondor.
"But then I am…not really the rightful Steward," Faramir
said.
"Nonsense!" Gandalf huffed. The wizard had taken up his pipe
and was taking great puffs, something he did when unsettled. "You
are the Steward, Faramir, and Aragorn was very clear that that is a
closed subject. It would cause great turmoil if you were to try to renounce
your position. There is no logical reason why Denethor's younger son
would not take up the duties as Steward, and to Middle Earth you are
his son, Faramir. There can be no other."
Elrond saw the hesitation in the man's eyes and he nodded his agreement.
It would be best for all if this remained a secret. Faramir seemed like
he wanted to argue for a moment, and then he lowered his eyes in acceptance.
There was a long uncomfortable silence in the room before Elrond took
charge.
"I think it is time for you to rest, young Faramir," he said,
standing and placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "This has been
a great shock; you need time to reflect upon this. There is no need
to force more discussion." Gandalf looked a bit disappointed for
a moment, and then he saw the look in Elrond's eyes and accepted the
healer's judgement. Faramir was quite pale, and he was unable to look
at the wizard.
Faramir was barely aware of standing and letting Elrond guide him out
the door. He paused in the doorway and looked back at Gandalf. The wizard
looked suddenly very old and worried, and Faramir knew it had been a
very difficult discussion for him. "I…am not angry,"
he murmured, sensing worry in Gandalf's mind. Gandalf looked up, his
face brightening and he nodded.
Elrond led the young Human down the hallways back to his rooms, steering
him toward the warm bed. "Rest now," the elf said quietly.
"Your mind is rightfully confused at present; there is time for
answers later." Faramir sat on the bed, and Elrond deftly removed
his shoes and pulled a blanket over him as he laid down. "Sleep,"
he whispered, and there was a command in his voice. Faramir closed his
eyes and fell into a deep peaceful dark.
Faramir stared at the flames of the fire, his mind idly watching the
flickering tongues of fire. A pleasant fire had been burning in the
hearth in his room when he had awoken, and he thought that Elrond had
likely started it earlier. It did feel good to be warm, and seeing the
latest snowstorm swirl outside his windows, he was content to stay inside.
The whirling snow perfectly matched his confused thoughts.
A knock came at the door and he quietly answered. "Come in,"
he said. He was not really surprised when Elrond entered. The Elf inclined
his head in greeting and then sat in a chair beside Faramir when the
prince gestured welcome.
"How do you fare?" Elrond asked after a moment. Faramir managed
a small smile at the question.
"Surprisingly good," he answered after a moment. "I
feel I should be more shocked, or angry, but I'm really not."
Elrond regarded the steward thoughtfully and then nodded. "Perhaps
a part of you knew," he suggested. "If you inherited a fraction
of Mithrandir's foresight, you would have felt something at some point.
And you two were very close when you were young; he wanted to be a father
to you as best he could."
Faramir glanced at the Elf, his light eyes curious. "How long
have you known?"
"Since you were a child. My own foresight told me the war of the
Ring was drawing closer, and Mithrandir spent much of his time between
here and Gondor. He decided to confide in me when he was certain that
Sauron would rise again and you would be one of those to face him."
Elrond saw that Faramir was eager to hear more, and he settled back
in the chair and continued.
"He did wonder if you should be brought to Rivendell," Elrond
said. "But both of us and Galadriel had seen that your destiny
was in Gondor. It was difficult for Mithrandir to leave you there, but
there were many reasons we knew it had to be so."
One of Faramir's dark eyebrows rose in surprise. "The Lady Galadriel
knew?" he asked, rather nonplussed. It was quite a surprise to
learn that such a powerful lady knew something of him.
"She occasionally saw glimpses of you in her mirror, and knew
you would figure in the future of Middle Earth. But even now she does
not know the truth of your parentage; Mithrandir told only me, I assure
you." The healer smiled, a faintly mischievous glint in his dark
eyes. "She hates puzzles; I imagine that she would give quite a
bit to know more."
Faramir tried to picture the Lady of the Golden Wood indulging in gossip,
and had to shake his head. Elrond looked amused, and continued. "We
knew you had to remain in Gondor, but Mithrandir never stopped worrying
about you. It was very difficult for him to leave you every time he
left the city, but he did what he had to do." He regarded the young
man thoughtfully. "I know that he wishes now to be able to spend
time with you, to try to make up for what was lost."
The Steward considered this, and then nodded. "I would like that
as well," he said quietly. "It does feel…right, somehow.
I meant when I said that I am not angry."
"He worried that you would be upset," Elrond said.
"No," Faramir shook his head. "Very confused, but I'm
not angry." He was about to say more when he coughed violently.
Sheepishly, he found his handkerchief and noticed that Elrond was giving
him the healer glare.
"I'm not sick," he said. It sounded peevish even to his ears.
"You seem to be doing your best imitation though," Elrond
countered. "And your shoulder is aching as well." He had noticed
Faramir wince a few times. "We did not conduct your healing session
for that wound this morning. We should do so now." He stood and
moved over to a small chest where some of his healing herbs were stored.
Faramir scowled behind the Elf's back, quickly switching back to a
hopefully earnest expression when Elrond returned. "It does not
hurt much," he protested.
The healer ignored him. "That was not terribly convincing,"
he replied dryly. Elrond placed the small flask that he had brought
over onto a small table. "I need to apply some ointment to the
wound this time, and it will also alleviate some of the tightness in
your breath." His ears had picked up the congested sound in Faramir's
chest.
It took Faramir a moment to realize that Elrond wanted him to remove
his shirt. "Oh," he mumbled, suddenly flustered. He fumbled
with the lacings on his over tunic, his fingers bizarrely clumsy. It
was not the first time Elrond had applied salve to his wound or chest,
but each time he did Faramir found himself growing more and more self
conscious.
Elrond barely stopped himself from offering to help the young prince.
His fingers itched to touch that soft skin, and he scolded himself for
feeling this way about a patient. Faramir had received yet another shock
that day, although he was coping well, and this was not the time to
think about expressing his desires to the Man. He forced himself to
remain still while Faramir shrugged out of his tunic, and then removed
the soft shirt underneath.
Faramir nearly jumped when Elrond touched him and the Elf immediately
drew back. "Does that hurt?" he asked, eyeing the wound with
concern. It was still red and angry, though he had been able to detect
some small improvement in the past week.
"No, not at all," Faramir assured him hurriedly. It feels
goo— alright," he stumbled. He wanted to bit his tongue off
for nearly saying that it felt good. But every time Elrond touched him,
it did feel good. Elrond studied him for a moment, and then
resumed applying the salve carefully.
He finished with the wounded area, and then rubbed some of the softly
scented oil onto Faramir's chest. Elrond silently scolded himself for
letting his mind wander, but it was most pleasing to touch Faramir this
way, telling himself that it was very likely the only touch that Faramir
would accept from him. But why were those light eyes watching him so
intently?
Elrond finished and stepped back before those eyes could study him
too deeply. Both were silent as Faramir dressed and Elrond returned
the jar to his medical chest. Both knew there was something they would
need to speak of, but for now, they chose the silence.
Chapter Seven
Faramir did not believe that wizards could turn invisible, despite
his knowledge of Gandalf's considerable powers, but he concluded that
Mithrandir had done a commendable job of vanishing. No one claimed to
have seen Gandalf since the afternoon before, and Faramir had a distinct
impression that the wizard was hiding from him. Elrond had looked a
bit guilty when he asked at breakfast where Mithrandir was, and Faramir
decided that he needed to track him down. He was a Ranger, Captain of
the Ithilien guard, and he would find where that wizard had bolted.
Gandalf had not appeared at dinner the night before, something that
Elrond had hinted would be likely. The Istari felt it only fair to give
Faramir some time and space after his revelation, and Faramir had appreciated
the time to think. But he was done with brooding, and now he wanted
talk.
After one false start, Faramir tracked Gandalf down to an isolated
corner study in the guest quarters. Once he had found his quarry, Faramir
realized that he didn't know what to say. The wizard was staring at
a fire in a small hearth, puffing on his pipe, swirls of smoke floating
in the air. The faint smell of the pipeweed brought back memories of
visits in Minas Tirith, and almost without realizing it, Faramir spoke
softly.
"You always brought me a birthday present each year," he
said, one of his fondest memories surfacing. "You brought one for
Boromir as well, and I thought that you had always delivered gifts.
But then my nurse told me that you only started bringing presents after
I was born."
Gandalf nodded; he had sensed Faramir's presence and was glad he was
starting with such an easy subject. "It was the least I could do
for you."
"It made me feel very special at a time when I needed that."
The wizard turned and met the pale eyes of the Steward of Gondor. They
regarded each other for a long moment and the tension suddenly eased
in the air. Faramir made his way over to a chair beside the Istari and
settled back, feeling warm and comfortable. He had always felt relaxed
in Mithrandir's presence and knew now that there was a reason for that.
"Do you know what my favorite present was?" he asked.
Gandalf tried to look uninterested, but failed miserably. "No.
What?"
"A stuffed dragon, bigger than I was." He smiled in memory.
"How did you ever get it into that old wagon you traveled in?"
Gandalf snorted.
"That was nothing compared to defending myself when I was packing
that blasted thing in the wagon. Some men in a nearby tavern though
it amusing to see an old man carrying a child's toy. They regretted
it when they realized that the old man was an old wizard, and already
feeling quite self-conscious about parading about town with that animal."
Faramir's grin widened as he pictured Gandalf wielding the stuffed
dragon. "What did you do to them?"
"Let's just say that they had reason to believe that perhaps the
dragon was alive when it suddenly breathed fire at them."
Faramir burst into laughter, and after a moment, Gandalf's lips twitched
and he joined in the chuckling. Faramir had to stop laughing when he
began to cough and he regained his control reluctantly. "For all
I know that beast is likely still somewhere in the citadel, packed into
a chest. When it finally stopped sharing the bed with me at night I
still kept it around for some years. It was always a fond reminder of
you and your visits."
"I hoped it would be." Gandalf smiled at him, the wizard's
eyes soft with memory. "I so wanted to do more, but I lacked the
courage."
"I understand," Faramir said truthfully, hoping Gandalf would
believe him. "There was nothing more you could do, and I agree
with your reasons for staying silent." He looked at the window,
seeing the snow fall silently. "It would have caused my mother
grief to know that I was not…Denethor's…son." He was
still uncertain now how to refer to the former Steward.
"You are his son in many ways, Faramir," Gandalf said quietly.
"You have his intelligence and Denethor was very proud of you.
You reminded him of your mother, and at some point he decided it was
easier to deal with her loss if you were kept at an arm's distance,
but he did love you." The wizard dared to reach out and lightly
touch Faramir's hand, so that the prince looked at him. "I know
not exactly what happened to Denethor later, but knowing of the planatir's
powers, I can guess. It twisted his senses and his mind from the moment
he first used the stone."
"When was that?" Faramir had never dared to speak even to
Boromir about the time their father spent in the tower.
"I cannot be certain, but I believe it was shortly after Boromir
was born."
"That long ago?" Faramir was shocked.
"Aye," Gandalf said, his tone heavy. "But I did not
know it for decades afterwards. He was not always as stern as you remember,
Faramir. Your lady mother would never have married him if he had been."
He squeezed Faramir's hand a little. "Denethor was a proud man,
but I never saw him more proud than when Boromir and you were born.
When I realized that you were my son, I realized at the exact same moment
that Denethor loved you."
Faramir considered his words for a moment, and then nodded. "Thank
you," he whispered. Gandalf nodded and released his hand, taking
a moment to refill his pipe.
"You would have brought me to Rivendell?" Faramir asked
when the wizard was settled back in his chair.
"I considered it, aye," Gandalf nodded. "Many times.
I very nearly did so once, shortly after your mother died, and I realized
that Denethor had used the planatir." The wizard looked down at
his pipe, not meeting Faramir's eyes. "I was furious with him for
doing that, and furious that he was ignoring a child."
Faramir closed his eyes briefly, memories overtaking him. "I have
always felt… guilty…that I could not please him. I know
that my mother never fully recovered from my birth. He never directly
said so, but I knew he blamed me in a way for her death."
The wizard puffed his pipe angrily, not wanting to acknowledge Faramir's
statement, but both knew that it was true. "If I had possessed
any courage I would have taken you away then, but Elrond was right;
it would have separated you from Boromir and after the loss of your
mother, I could not bear to think of you having to deal with the loss
of your brother as well."
The young steward looked down. "I am a grown man and it is hard
to accept Boromir being gone," he admitted.
"And it would have been devastating for you as a child,"
Gandalf sighed. "No, for my own selfish purposes I would have taken
you, but that was not the way it was supposed to be. I am sorry, Faramir."
Faramir managed a small smile, hearing the wizard's sadness. "There
is no need to regret what could not be prevented, Mithrandir. Denethor
was the only father I knew, and Boromir was my life after mother died.
I would not have wanted to leave Minas Tirith." He touched the
wizard's hand, hoping he believed his words. "I understand why
you did what you did. It is not best to take advantage of the time we
have now?"
Gandalf still not meet the young prince's eyes, but he muttered something,
and Faramir felt more of the tension in the air ease. He decided it
was time to change the subject a little. "Did the Lady Galadriel
really see me in her mirror?"
"Of course she did. You are half-Istari, and visible to one with
her powers, although she does not know who you are." The old wizard
smiled. "She would dearly love to hear this piece of gossip."
Faramir regarded him warily. Hearing someone call him half-Istari made
him wonder. "I'm not going to…developed any strange powers,
am I?"
Gandalf chuckled. "No, my boy. Only perhaps strengthen the abilities
you already have." He saw the blank look on Faramir's face and
his chuckles increased. "You do not admit it, but you can read
people, Faramir. You can see into their hearts and minds far better
than any mortal. That is my legacy to you, and if you wish, we could
work to strengthen it, and control it. I know at times you see flashes
of foresight that disturb you."
"Sometimes I hear what people are thinking," Faramir said
softly. "I used to be able to hear only Boromir's thoughts, but
later I could usually sense what my men were thinking."
"Elrond has had a similar gift his entire life. He could help
you learn control," Gandalf suggested. He saw a look flash across
Faramir's face at the mention of Elrond's name, and smiled to himself.
He was about to say something when Faramir coughed again, and the wizard
put his pipe aside.
"Come, I think it is time for lunch, and your medicine. Elrond
will have my hide if you do not rest and continue to take his prescriptions."
"I hate being sick," Faramir muttered. He looked irritably
at the wizard as they stood and started down the hall. "Do you
every get sick?"
Gandalf smiled. "That is a long story," he said.
Over the next days, Faramir and Gandalf spent most of their time quietly
visiting. There had always been a bond between them, and for the first
time Faramir understood the reason for the closeness they felt. He had
always been comfortable around the wizard, curious and never afraid
even as a child, when most children believed scary stories. They spent
hours talking, sitting in front of warm fires and sharing stories.
Elrond watched his patient carefully, pleased at Faramir's acceptance
of this news. There was still much to be discussed, but the Steward
was not angry, and Mithrandir was finally letting go of some of his
guilt. The Elf Lord was glad that they had accepted one another so willingly,
and he knew this long winter would be an important time for the newly
reunited father and son.
But he was not pleased at the persistent cough that continued to nag
Faramir, and the wound in his shoulder remained painful. One afternoon
Faramir participated in another snowball fight, and he was wincing when
he joined Elrond and Gandalf at dinner. He tried to hide the discomfort,
but both noticed his stiff movements and pain.
"What is wrong?" Gandalf demanded.
"Nothing," Faramir tried answering, then wilted under the
stern looks he received. "I think I hurt my shoulder earlier. It
has been hurting a bit more since its gotten colder," he reluctantly
admitted.
Elrond reached out to feel his forehead and his eyebrows drew together
at feeling a warm flush on the steward's skin. "You are also running
a low fever," he said, not at all pleased. "How long have
you been feeling thus?"
Faramir tried to look innocent, but failed. "Since yesterday,"
he grumbled. Gandalf peered at him intently.
"And you look as though you have not slept," he added darkly.
Elrond felt a twinge of guilt; he had stopped giving Faramir a light
sedative each night, thinking that the steward would tell him if he
did not rest well. Faramir looked irritably between the Elf and the
wizard.
"I am alright," he protested. It was rather unusual to have
people fussing over him, and he wasn't quite sure how to respond. "I
hate being sick," he added, contradicting his own words and sounding
like a cross child. "It's been months; why haven't I recovered?"
"I think it is the nature of the Southron poison," Elrond
said, silently thinking of how close Faramir had come to death. "The
poison is very deadly to men and elves alike; I suspect its effects
will continue to linger for a time."
Faramir looked at Gandalf, and the wizard could hear the unspoken question
in the steward's mind. "Even I could possibly die from that poison
if the dose was high enough," he said quietly. "My blood may
have saved your life, but you still have much recovery ahead."
Faramir nodded and looked down at his plate, his appetite gone.
"Come," Elrond said, standing from his chair. "That
fever must be broken and then you need to rest." He was irritated
at himself for not realizing earlier that Faramir was experiencing discomfort
and was determined to make amends for his lapse. He stopped briefly
to speak to a servant, and then went upstairs, with Faramir reluctantly
following him.
Faramir found himself escorted to his bedroom and ordered to lie down
while Elrond gathered some herbs from his study. A few minutes later
Elrond returned, accompanied by several servants carrying huge buckets
of steaming hot water. Faramir looked at them suspiciously as Elrond
directed them to pour the water into the tub in the bathing chamber.
"A hot bath will ease some of the muscle pain and warm you,"
Elrond explained. He readied his medicines and thanked the Elves as
they left. Then he approached Faramir, who was sitting on the edge of
his bed. "I need to see your shoulder," he said, reaching
out to help the prince remove his formal outer tunic.
Faramir sighed, but relented, accepting help in shedding his tunic
and soft undershirt. Elrond frowned at seeing the angry red marks around
the wound and he gently rested his hand above it for a moment, letting
some of his healing energy flow into Faramir, then he gestured to the
chamber. "Into the bath with you," he directed.
The Steward toed off his boots and retreated to the bathing area as
ordered. He was about to remove his trousers when he realized that Elrond
had followed him in, and was standing right behind him.
"Wh—" Faramir snapped his mouth shut, hearing himself
nearly squeak in surprise. Elrond walked past him to a small table and
began preparing something in a bowl.
"Get in the bath before you become chilled," the Elf said
mildly.
His back was now to Faramir and the Steward debated worriedly for a
moment. Why was he nervous? As a warrior he had certainly been undressed
around men countless times, he even vaguely recalled Arargorn helping
bathe him on one occasion when he was ill. So why was this different?
'It's Elrond,' he told himself. He hastily undressed and sunk down into
the warm water, feeling better when he was covered.
Elrond made certain to not turn around until he knew from the sounds
that Faramir had found refuge in the tub. He scolded himself for just
walking in like that, but as a healer he assisted his patients in baths
often for various injuries, and he had not thought this through. 'It's
Faramir,' he told himself. The one he had admitted that he loved, but
the Elf still had to keep his thoughts to himself. Faramir needed a
healer now, not someone gawking at him. He composed himself and turned
back to his patient.
Faramir watched a bit warily as Elrond crushed some leaves into another
bowl and sat it by the small brazier so it steamed. He recognized the
scent of athelas and smiled a little. "What is that?" he asked,
gesturing at the other bowl that the Elf carried over to him.
"Some ointment for your shoulder, and it should ease your cough
as well," Elrond explained. He gracefully sat down beside the tub,
tucking his long formal robes under his legs, and began to rub the softly
scented cream into the area around Faramir' wound. The Steward winced
a little at first, but sighed as his muscles began to relax.
Elrond carefully applied some of the ointment to Faramir's chest and
back. He felt the prince tense, but then relax again and smiled to himself.
Faramir was not accustomed to being sick, or having someone take care
of him, and Elrond was more than pleased to take the time to fuss over
the steward. The ointment was impervious to water, and once he had rubbed
enough into Faramir's skin he gently pushed on his shoulders, guiding
Faramir to sink down further into the warm water.
Faramir closed his eyes and sighed, already feeling the pain and coldness
in his shoulder ease. He coughed once, then breathed in deeply, the
athelas scent soothing and calming. He drifted happily for a time, hearing
the soft sounds of Elrond rising and adding a few sticks to the brazier
to keep the room warm. Sometime later he felt a light touch on his shoulder
and opened his eyes to see Elrond standing beside the tub, holding a
large towel.
A bit self-conscious, Faramir stood and let himself be wrapped into
the warm towel as he exited the bath. He was then guided to a chair
and sat quietly while more ointment was applied to his shoulder. He
was feeling quite relaxed and drowsy now, and managed to control most
of his blush as Elrond helped him pull on a long bed robe. The Elf simply
smiled at him and then guided Faramir to the bedroom and into bed. He
handed the steward a cup of tea that had been delivered by one of the
servants, and waited until Faramir had drank its contents then he pulled
the covers up around his charge. Faramir was asleep within minutes,
a small smile on his face.
Faramir health improved over the next days, mostly due to Elrond's
hovering. The Elf lord finally realized that he needed to keep his distance
for a time, wondering how to keep his feelings for the Steward secret.
Erestor had spied his thoughts, and he worried that others would as
well.
Elrond shook his head a little as he sat down at the desk in his study,
thinking of Faramir, as he often did these days. He had retreated to
his study to attack some of the work that he had put off, but he was
not in any mood to deal with the papers.
A knock on the door made him end his brooding. "Come," he
called. To his great surprise, Faramir entered.
"Am I disturbing you?" Faramir asked, his voice a little
hesitant.
"No, of course not." Elrond stood, forcing his usual impassive
tone to keep his voice steady. He regarded his patient with a practiced
eye. "Is everything alright?" He had not conducted a healing
session for several days, thinking that Faramir should spend the time
with Mithrandir.
"Yes," Faramir answered quickly. "I…well, you
weren't in the Hall of Fire last night, or at breakfast this morning,
and I wondered if something is wrong." He blushed a little as he
spoke, thinking he sounded impossibly silly.
Elrond smiled at the concern evident in the steward's words. "No,
I was simply attending to very dull household matters." He gestured
at the papers on his desk. "Erestor sometimes delights in coming
up with paperwork for me to do."
"Ah, I believe the king no doubt thinks the same of me,"
Faramir confessed. "He did express concern that the councilors
would bury him with papers while I was gone."
"Estel is a grown man; he must learn to deal with it himself,"
Elrond said, amusement in his voice. The prince smiled, but then when
he started to excuse himself, Elrond waved to a pair of nearby chairs.
"Please stay. I would welcome any excuse to leave the papers sit."
Faramir looked pleased and accepted the invitation. "Where is Mithrandir
this afternoon?" Elrond asked after they settled by the fire.
"He said something about being old, and entitled to take an afternoon
nap," Faramir said. "Actually, I think he ate too much pie
at lunch, and needs to lie down and digest."
Elrond laughed aloud, something he rarely did, and saw the shy smile
Faramir gave him. "And Mithrandir suggested that I talk to you,"
the steward continued. "He thinks that my…ability to sense
thoughts will increase." Faramir did not look very happy with that
revelation.
"Strong emotions can make the ability clearer," Elrond agreed
quietly. "You have been under much strain and it is normal to think
that you may begin perceiving more. The visions and thoughts will often
come when you least expect it."
Pale eyes looked at the Elf. "I don't know what to expect anymore,"
Faramir said, his voice worried.
"Then let me help you," Elrond answered. Faramir took a deep
breath and nodded.
Chapter Eight
Several weeks later, Gandalf found Faramir in the library after breakfast.
He smiled at the sight of the young steward buried in a thick book of
maps and filled his pipe while he waited for Faramir to emerge from
his concentration. After a minute Faramir finally realized that he was
no longer alone in the room and raised his head, smiling sheepishly.
"Sorry," he said.
Gandalf waved a hand at the stack of books. "Nonsense, what is
there to apologize for? Elrond has a magnificent library; and I've nearly
forgotten to emerge for meals sometimes. I do believe he nearly sent
out a search party once to find me after I had discovered a particularly
fascinating text."
A twinkle appeared in Faramir's light eyes. "So is that where
I get it from?" he asked in amusement. "I used to go for walks
with a book to read. Boromir always said that one day I would run right
into an orc and not realize it. He told me that you nearly ran into
a tree while reading during one visit to Minas Tirith."
The wizard huffed a bit. "I have excellent powers of concentration,"
he countered defensively. "And yes, you have likely inherited that
gift." He waved his pipe in a sharp jab. "Run into a tree,
indeed!" he muttered. "What a ridiculous notion."
Faramir grinned and joined the wizard by the fire, willingly putting
away his books for a time. Gandalf muttered something about boorish
warriors with no respect for good books, then got over his mild snit.
He looked fondly at the prince. "I hope you don't mind my interrupting."
"You are not interrupting," Faramir assured him. "You
know that I am always happy to visit with you." He smiled, and
Gandalf knew it was true.
Over the past weeks, they had spent much time together, and found that
any unease between them had long since passed. They were comfortable
with one another, taking comfort now from the other's presence. They
had talked long and settled into their new relationship. Faramir did
not blame Gandalf for keeping secret the truth about his birth, and
Gandalf had accepted that Faramir understood the need for secrecy. Faramir
could even joke with the wizard now a little bit about being half-Istari,
and Gandalf was relieved that Farmir bore him no ill will.
Gandalf looked at him fondly, nodding a bit to himself. He was incredibly
proud of how Faramir had handled the news of his true parentage, thanking
the Valar that they had guided the prince. Faramir was also looking
healthier than he had in months, the cough finally subsiding and his
shoulder bothering him less. Even Elrond, who hovered over his patient,
had admitted that Faramir was on the mend. Ah, and thinking of Elrond…
"Do you have a session with Elrond this afternoon?" he asked.
Faramir shook his head
"Not today, but its getting easier to control what I hear,"
he said, satisfaction evident in his tone.
Gandalf smiled, very satisfied. "It will get easier," he
assured him. "It is vastly annoying to be able to hear so many
thoughts and you do need to tune them out. And mind you," he warned,
waving his pipe again, "Aragorn is well aware of your small abilities.
He is likely to ask you to spy on certain councilors during meetings
to ascertain what they are truly thinking. You should use this ability
for good."
Faramir looked innocently at the wizard. "But surely determining
if they are truthful when they go on and on is using such an ability
for good," he protested. "And besides, I distinctly recall
that most Rangers refuse to play cards or dice with you. They claim
you are reading their thoughts."
Gandalf snorted, and quickly changed the subject. "You and Elrond
get along well," he said innocently.
"We do," Faramir agreed. His tone was mild, but Gandalf saw
the hint of a blush and pounced upon the opportunity.
"You smile whenever his name is mentioned," he said casually.
Faramir blushed again, this time a far deeper shade.
"I don't know what you mean," he mumbled, looking at the
floor.
"Nonsense," Gandalf said. "I don't mean to intrude,
but I can see something in your eyes when he is around." He didn't
need to go any further as Faramir sighed and tried to sink back into
his chair and escape. "Of course, I may be imagining it,"
he admitted, his tone casual. "But I am very certain that I am
not imaging what I see in his eyes when he looks at you."
"What?" His voice was almost a squeak, and Faramir winced.
"No indeed," Gandalf continued. He was looking at the fire,
seemingly intent on the small flames cheerfully warming the room. "Yes,
there is most definitely something in his eyes that I have not seen
since his wife sailed. He is in love." Gandalf glanced over and
saw that Faramir was red-faced and unable to look at him, but he was
obviously listening to every word the Istari said. "He is in love,"
Gandalf repeated in satisfaction, "and I am very happy about this.
But even happier that I see the same look in your eyes."
Faramir blushed fiercely, certain that his face was hotter than the
fire. Gandalf reached over and lightly patted his knee. "Let's
have a talk," the wizard said brightly.
That night Elrond sat in the Hall of Fire, contentedly listening to
the musicians and the chatter of soft voices. There had been few times
in his life when all had felt this well and safe, and he treasured the
moment. He had not felt this at ease since Celebrain had sailed. He
smiled as he thought of his beloved wife; he missed her still, but he
knew they would one day be reunited. And now his heart had opened to
another, unexpected, person.
Faramir sat quietly beside him, following one of Glorfindel's stories
intently. Something the elf said made Faramir smile, and it lit up his
entire face. Elrond took pleasure just from watching the young prince
enjoy himself. He thanked the Valar that all was progressing well for
the Steward. He and Mithrandir were at ease with each other, spending
the days talking and sharing, and his illness was finally on the mend.
There was even reason to think that Faramir returned Elrond's feelings,
although the elf was patient and did not press his suit. There was something
in the way Faramir looked at him that hinted there was more beneath
his quiet exterior. Elrond had long ago admitted that he had lost his
heart, but told himself firmly that he had to give Faramir time to cope
with all the recent revelations. It was unusual for an elf to not speak
their heart, but he contended himself with watching Faramir grow happier
each day.
The Elf lord saw Mithrandir looking at them, and raised an eyebrow
in question. Gandalf simply smiled and turned back to his pipe and conversation
with one of Rivendell's scholars. Elrond sighed inwardly; he suspected
that Gandalf knew of his feelings for Faramir, and he was not at all
certain how to broach the subject with the wizard.
Gandalf was free for the first time to act very paternal toward Faramir,
and he seemed to be making up for lost time. He was discrete when others
were around, but when they were alone Gandalf fretted and fussed over
the steward. Faramir protested that it was unfair that he now had both
the wizard and the elf forcing medicines upon him. He tried to tactfully
and respectfully point out that he was not a child, but understood that
Gandalf wanted to be a father to him as much as he could, and he indulged
the wizard.
Elrond hoped that his love was also showing through to Faramir, and
the smiles and glances from the prince encouraged him. Faramir was usually
quiet when around Elrond, but Erestor assured Elrond that it was shyness
and the advisor insisted that Faramir did love him. Erestor had not
forgotten his conversation with Elrond, and was subtly doing his best
to bring the stubborn steward and elf lord together.
Faramir was calm on the exterior, but inside he was shaking. He saw
Gandalf give him a very pointed look and sighed. He almost moved away
from Elrond but stopped, scolding himself for being so nervous. He had
promised the wizard to make his feelings known to Elrond this evening,
and Gandalf assured him that he had nothing to fear; Elrond would be
delighted.
Later, he and Elrond stayed close as they walked outside on one of
the balconies for a breath of fresh air. It had become a pleasant habit
to visit quietly before Faramir retired for the evening, but Elrond
refused to go outside until Faramir had pulled on a long warm cloak.
"I'm not cold," Faramir said, but he obediently wrapped the
cloak around him. "I've never really felt the cold, except for
when I'm ill. It used to make Boromir crazy; he hated the cold and never
understood why I didn't."
"Estel does not feel the cold either," Elrond commented.
He looked at Faramir with mock sternness. "Do not try to freeze
out unwanted councilors by refusing to heat the meeting chambers in
Gondor."
Faramir looked intrigued. "That is a very good idea. Where did
you get that from?"
"Estel already tried it. Arwen wrote that she has appointed a
servant whose sole duty is to now ensure there is adequate heat for
council hearings. And she gave Estel a stern lecture on behaving properly."
A peal of laughter came from Faramir. "I wish I was there to see
that," he said. "Mithrandir said that he seldom feels the
heat or cold either, and that when I am finally recovered from the poison
I should be nearly as impervious to the temperature as an elf."
Elrond nodded in agreement. "You likely will be, but you are not
fully recovered yet and as such, you must stay warm." He brushed
a hand over Faramir's shoulder, subtly drawing the cloak closer around
him. Elrond guilty admitted to using any excuse to touch his beloved.
Faramir smiled a little at the gesture, glancing down.
"I just wish that I would get better," he said, mildly frustrated.
"I received a letter from the king in which he made it perfectly
clear that he is putting off doing whatever he possibly can until I
return. I feel that I should be there helping him."
"Estel will survive until spring," Elrond said firmly. "And
has this not been a time of healing in many ways?"
"It has," Faramir agreed. He stopped and looked up at the
stars that seemed to hover just above the trees. "I do not regret
a single moment of my time here," he added softly.
"I am glad." Elrond found himself again moving close to Faramir,
and once again, the steward seemed to relax against him. There was silence
for a time.
"Elrond-"
"Faramir-"
Both started to speak at the same time, then stopped and shared a smile.
Elrond inclined his head slightly, indicating that Faramir should speak
first.
Faramir looked at him intently, some strong emotion in his eyes. "I
want to thank you…for everything," he said softly. He took
a deep breath and lifted a hand. It stopped just short of touching Elrond's
arm. "I do not regret a moment of my time spent with you,"
he finally whispered.
Elrond felt the emotion pouring from the prince now, and without thought,
he clasped Faramir's hand, pulling it against his chest. "Nor do
I," he said. They were standing now with only inches separating
their bodies. Elrond saw the hesitation in Faramir's eyes and knew that
he was reluctant to speak. It was time for him to admit his own feelings.
"I have been alone for many centuries," the elf said quietly.
"I did not know what was lacking until you arrived. You have found
healing, and a new father in Rivendell, but I have found someone who
entered my heart and captured it utterly. I am very grateful that fate
brought you here."
Faramir looked down for a moment, then quickly back up, his eyes shining.
"I've never known love before," he said reluctantly. "I
kept telling myself that I was feeling some foolish emotion that would
go away, but it didn't. It grew stronger, and then after Mithrandir
arrived, I grew confused at what I was sensing from others." He
shook his head a little, trying to find the words to explain. "I
realized that I was feeling emotions, but they were so hard to read.
I knew they were from you, but not what they meant."
Elrond smiled. "They meant I had found a very special person.
I blocked what I could from you; you needed time with Mithrandir, but
my feelings were too strong, and your mind too agile, to escape complete
notice." He raised their joined hands and placed a kiss on Faramir's
hand. "They meant that I am in love with you."
"And I with you," Faramir whispered. He hesitated, still
unsure, and Elrond closed the small distance remaining between them,
their lips meeting.
It was a sweeter kiss than Faramir had ever tasted before, and far
more passionate. He felt Elrond's hands gently coming around his shoulders
and eagerly pressed himself close to the Elf lord. His hands reached
up to run through the long silken strands of dark hair and Elrond hugged
him tighter.
Suddenly, a door opened down the walkway and several elves emerged,
laughing and talking. Though they were some distance away and hidden
partially in shadows, Faramir immediately tensed and pulled away. Elrond
looked disappointed, but he saw the worried glance Faramir gave the
elves, and the blush appear on his face, and it made him smile a little.
He took Faramir's hand, and led him inside.
By the time they made their way to Elrond's study, Faramir had regained
some of his poise. He looked at Elrond sheepishly as the Elf closed
the door behind them. "I'm sorry for reacting like that,"
he apologized.
"Do not apologize," Elrond replied, putting an arm around
Faramir and guiding him to a couch by the small fire. He removed Faramir's
cloak and they sat on the couch. "Love between men is new for you?"
He saw Faramir's blush and nod, confirming his suspicion. Faramir was
shy about many things, and this was a new type of love for him. "I
regret that they interrupted us." He kissed Faramir's hand and
was rewarded with a huge smile.
They sat beside each other, their hands still clasped. Faramir watched
the Elf and shook his head. "How can you love me?" he asked
softly, sounding rather amazed.
Elrond raise a dark eyebrow. "How could I not?" he answered.
"Your heart is pure and true, and you are beautiful to behold."
He ran a finger gently along the neatly trimmed beard. "There are
many who wished to court you. I am surprised that you would choose an
old Elf as myself."
Faramir matched the raised eyebrow. "Old?" he scoffed. "That
is nonsense. But I do wonder…" he hesitated, and continued
only when Elrond squeezed his hand encouragingly. "I must return
to Gondor in the spring," he whispered, his heart wrenching at
the thought.
"I know." Elrond rested his hands on the prince's shoulders,
making Faramir look at him. "I cannot foresee what the future holds
for us, Faramir. The time of Elves is over in Middle Earth, and someday
I will sail with my people. But I ask that you do not let an uncertain
future prevent you from loving in the present." He smiled, dark
eyes searching Faramir's face for signs that he believed him. "We
do not know what amount of time we will have together. Will you accept
my love for the time that we do have?"
The Steward smiled and touched a strand of the long hair. "I do
accept it," he answered quietly. This time he closed the distance
between them and the kiss was even sweeter.
Sometime later Elrond made himself end the kissing but he kept hold
of Faramir, both men resting against each other and relaxing. "Mithrandir
will be pleased," Faramir finally ventured to say. "He gave
me a rather stern talk this morning about admitting my feelings and
to stop hiding."
"Ah, I owe him great thanks then," Elrond said, now understanding
the look the wizard had given him earlier. "I wondered what had
made you speak. And perhaps he gave me some courage as well."
Faramir chuckled a little. "Perhaps," he agreed. His head
had come to rest against Elrond's chest, and he almost purred as long
slender fingers ran through his hair.
"You should grow your hair longer," Elrond mussed aloud.
"The curls are so beautiful. It very unusual for Elves to have
curly hair; it makes you stand out."
Faramir blushed. "The curls are a nuisance and it grows so quickly,"
he grumbled. "I have to cut it every month or risk being mistaken
for a girl."
Elrond laughed at the idea. "You are beautiful, but Men would
have to have very poor eyesight indeed to mistake you for a female,"
he assured the prince. "And I would battle anyone who tried to
claim you from me."
The steward sighed happily, pleased at Elrond's statement. But it made
him think of something and he raised his head.
"Elrond, do you want…I mean, want me…er, I mean tonight…oh,
damn," Faramir cursed, thoroughly embarrassed. He had just admitted
he was in love, and already he was acting like a fool! Elrond smiled,
relishing the feel of the warm body in his arms.
"I do not wish to rush you into anything, and you are still healing."
Faramir muttered something under his breath that even Elven ears could
not distinguish. "I am healed; at least enough,"
he protested, lifting his head.
One dark eyebrow rose in amusement. "Enough for what? Whatever
could you mean?" Elrond asked, seeing the color immediately rise
in Faramir's cheeks.
"You know what I mean! I may have never…well, never done
that with a male… but I know what happens," Faramir stuttered
in indignation. He moved to pull away, but Elrond held him carefully.
"Ah, young one, yes, I do know what you mean," Elrond allowed,
now feeling a bit guilty at his teasing. "And I dearly desire you,
Faramir, but I think you are not ready yet. We have just declared our
love; I see no reason to rush in any manner."
The Steward regarded him, his light eyes probing. "Have I not
wasted enough time?"
The words sounded like another plea, and Elrond's heart filled with
love for this brave Man. "There has been no time wasted,"
he said, running a finger down the planes of the thin face. He saw the
disagreement in Faramir's eyes and some of his resolve melted. "A
compromise then," he proposed. "I do not see any reason we
cannot sleep together tonight – sleep only," he added sternly.
A light blush spread to Faramir's ears, but he nodded agreement. "I
would like that," he whispered.
Elrond placed a kiss on his hair again. "Then will you stay with
me tonight?" He could hardly believe that he was asking this already,
but his love was strong and Faramir was determined. For months they
had longed for each other in their hearts, and now that they had admitted
their love, Elrond was reluctant to let the moment pass.
"Yes," Faramir answered firmly.
Elrond stood and held out his hand, which Faramir accepted, and he
led them to his bedroom.
Faramir looked about curiously as they entered the chamber. It was
smaller than he would have thought, and rather simply furnished. But
it reflected its occupant well in the books and healing herbs scattered
about the room and it had an air of peace and quiet. He decided it was
a perfect retreat for the Elf lord.
Elrond moved about the room gracefully, lighting a few small candles
and adding some logs to the fire. Faramir looked glad when he returned
to his side and he happily relaxed into the Elf's embrace. The healer
had to smile at the yawn that Faramir tried to conceal. "You need
to rest," he said, deciding that he needed to take the lead tonight.
He guided Faramir to the wardrobe and withdrew one of his sleeping robes.
"Go change," he said, gently pushing Faramir toward the bathing
chamber. He had guessed from Faramir's nervous look that he was rather
uncertain about disrobing in front of him tonight. The steward smiled
and disappeared into the small room. He emerged a moment later just
as Elrond was finishing pulling on his own robe.
Elrond had to take a few deep breaths and sternly remind himself that
he had insisted that they move slowly tonight. He hadn't counted on
how tempting Faramir would look in his room, dressed in one of his robes.
The blue robe changed Faramir's pale eyes to a darker shade, and Elrond
admitted to feeling very pleased and rather possessive of this beautiful
prince. Faramir smiled at him, but there was a slight blush on his face
and he hugged his arms to himself.
"Are you cold?" Elrond turned to add more logs to the fire
but Faramir held up a hand.
"I am fine," he said. "Nervous, but otherwise well,"
he admitted, smiling sheepishly.
"Ah." Elrond drew the steward into his arms again. "I
understand, as I feel quite the same."
Faramir tilted his head a little, studying the Elf. "Why would
you be nervous?" he asked.
Elrond raised an eyebrow. "I have a very beautiful and desirable
young man in my chambers, a prince that says he loves me. How could
I not be nervous?"
The steward felt better at hearing that he was not the only one uncertain.
He pressed a light kiss to Elrond's lips, and sighed as the arms around
him tightened. Elrond was more than happy to kiss for a time, but then
he quietly guided them to the bed, knowing that Faramir was tired, even
if the prince would not admit it. He pulled back the covers, and Faramir
obediently laid down, making room for the Elf.
They settled quickly, their bodies seeming to fit together perfectly.
Elrond drew the covers over them, making sure that Faramir was warmly
covered, and pulled him close. He heard Faramir give a little sight
of contentment, and smiled.
"Why are you comfortable?" he asked fondly.
"I can't believe I'm here," Faramir confessed. "It seems
like a dream."
Elrond kissed his hair. "Then sleep, and when you wake, you will
know that it is no dream." With that promise, he felt Faramir relax,
and soon slip into a peaceful sleep. Elrond himself stayed awake for
some time, still marveling at his fortune, and watching over his beloved.
Chapter Nine
Elrond turned at the soft sound from the bed and saw that Faramir
was awake. There was a moment of confusion on the prince's face as he
saw the unfamiliar room, and then he smiled when he spotted Elrond by
the windows. The Elf lord picked up the cups of tea that he had prepared
and walked over to the bed. "I hope I did not wake you," he
said quietly. He had risen only a few minutes before, deciding to make
some tea for them.
"You didn't," Faramir assured him. "Although I was rather
hoping to wake up with you still in bed." He colored a little at
his bold words, but continued to smile. Elrond chuckled as he placed
the tea on a nightstand. Faramir drew back the covers in invitation
and Elrond rejoined him in bed.
"I thought we might enjoy some tea before having to get up."
"That is wonderful, thank you." Faramir snuggled against
the Elf and sighed as Elrond drew the Steward into his arms. "But
this is even better."
"Ummm." Elrond leaned down and placed a kiss on the man's
lips, feeling Faramir respond immediately. "And how about this?"
"Best of all," Faramir agreed softly.
They kissed for long minutes, lazily waking up and enjoying the closeness.
Elrond finally made himself turn away and pick up the teacups before
he was too sorely tempted to let the kissing progress further. Faramir
gave him a look that indicated that the prince knew he was stopping
them for the moment, but accepted his tea with good grace. They settled
back against the headboard, their bodies still lightly touching, and
enjoyed their morning together.
Gandalf eyed the two empty places at the breakfast table, his smile
growing as his suspicions deepened. He had a very good feeling about
this, and when Elrond and Faramir finally arrived – together –
he quietly congratulated himself on being a genius.
"You are late," Erestor observed as the Elf and Steward hurried
over to the table. "The council meeting starts soon." It was
very unlike Elrond to be late and he frowned, wondering what could be
the explanation.
Elrond, however, didn't offer any explanation, but just nodded and
sat down. The advisor looked at the two late arrivals, and pondered
what could be happening. Faramir was blushing, and Elrond was not his
usual calm and collected self. Erestor then saw the smirk on Gandalf's
face, and blinked as he put the pieces together. His eyebrows rose and
he smiled broadly. Elrond met his gaze and then he blushed a little,
looking down. Erestor barely restrained his laughter; he had never seen
Elrond blush before.
Faramir saw the advisor and Gandalf smirking and silently groaned.
He felt like kicking Elrond under the table for making them so late,
but refrained from the childish behavior. He had not wanted to get out
of bed either, he admitted. They had lain for some time, talking quietly
and enjoying the peace together. Still, he hadn't thought of the jury
that they would face at breakfast. Silently praying that he survived
the embarrassment, he hurried his meal as quickly as he could politely,
and then escaped for the warrior's barracks. Elrond similarly rushed
and then fled to the safety of his office before the meetings began.
Soon the wizard and advisor found themselves alone at the breakfast
table yet again.
"I believe you owe me three bottles of the vintage of my choice,"
Gandalf said cheerfully. Erestor regarded the Istari suspiciously.
"This was your influence, I assume?" he asked dryly. He had
wagered that Elrond and Faramir would not admit their love until at
least the winter solstice. He knew now that he should have suspected
something when Gandalf had been more than eager to take the bet.
Erestor and Glorfindel were only ones at Rivendell who had been told
truth of Faramir's parentage. Both had been surprised, to say the least,
but they had grown fond of the young steward and were delighted that
he was finding peace with his heritage. Erestor had suspected that Gandalf
would try some paternal matchmaking, but he had not wagered that the
wizard would move so quickly.
Gandalf looked innocent at the advisor's question. "My influence?
Whatever are you talking about?" Erestor scowled at him and the
two settled into some mild bickering, both delighted at the turn of
events.
Over the next days Rivendell residents noticed the new closeness between
their lord and the steward. There were a few disappointed looks from
elves that had longed for a chance to get to know Faramir more intimately,
but everyone was happy for them. Faramir blushed for the first days
whenever he realized that people knew of their love, but graciously
accepted it after a time.
For his part, Elrond was completely besotted with his young love and
his heart felt lighter than it had in centuries. After that first night,
Faramir almost completely moved into Elrond's apartments at the Elf's
insistence, who scolded the steward when Faramir worried that would
be intruding. Elrond had no intention of letting Faramir think that
he was unloved ever again.
He did, however, still refuse to deepen their relationship at the rate
Faramir wanted. They exchanged kisses and touches and it was enough
to make Elrond want to swim in the river at night to cool off, but he
still did not rush the physical part of their love. Faramir pouted but
could do very little to convince Elrond otherwise.
Two weeks after they had admitted their love, Elrond was summoned from
his study with word that there had been a mild injury on the practice
field. He hurried down the stairs to the wide outside porch and watched
as Glorfindel and Damrod appeared, carrying between them a very mad
Steward. Faramir was trying to resist their attempts to carry him, and
was insisting on hopping on one foot. Damrod, in turn, was scolding
the younger man in a bellowing voice that easily carried to Elf ears.
"..and didn't lord Glorfindel warn you that there were tree roots
under the snow? Yet you insisted on running on that very path. Should
have just let you lie there in the snow!"
"And I'm telling you that I am fine! Stop trying to carry me,
you fool," Faramir grumbled back. He slapped Damrod's arm away
from him.
Seeing that Faramir was obviously not badly hurt, Elrond smiled at
the sight. Glorfindel looked up as the trio neared the stars and Elrond
could see the barely contained laughter on the warrior's face.
"Aye, just see if you can walk," Damrod was continuing. Years
of serving with Faramir in the guard allowed the older Ranger a certain
degree of familiarity with his young Lord. "You'll fall flat on
your face again and that's a fact."
"I will not," Faramir protested. He looked ready to argue
further, and Elrond decided it was time to intervene.
"What happened?" he asked, walking down the steps to meet
them.
Both Faramir and Damrod opened their mouths to reply, but Glorfindel
spoke up first. "We were practicing maneuvers, when the young Steward
here went off the cleared area and tripped over a tree root buried under
the snow. Twisted his ankle a bit."
"It's nothing—" Faramir began, but Elrond raised a
hand to stop the arguments from continuing.
"Let's get you inside and then we will see if it is nothing,"
he said smoothly. Glorfindel and Damrod helped Faramir up the stairs
and then turned him over to Elrond. The Elf lord put an arm under Faramir's
shoulder and guided him inside. After removing Faramir's cloak he sat
the steward down on a nearby couch and asked a servant to fetch some
bandages.
"This is embarrassing," Faramir groaned when they were alone.
"The first day I'm allowed out to practice and look what I do."
Elrond chuckled at the indigent look on Faramir's face. "You are
not the first to find those roots. I've treated more sprained ankles
than I could count."
"But do I have to add to the total?" Faramir complained.
He winced when Elrond gently pulled off his boot, gasping a little.
Elrond smiled in apology and then peeled down the socks so he could
study the ankle.
He was relieved to find no signs of a break or serious sprain, just
some bruising that was painful, but would heal quickly. A healer helped
him to wrap the ankle in a tight bandage for support, and together they
got Faramir upstairs and settled into bed. Faramir was still complaining
and managed to not blush when Elrond very specifically directed them
to his bedroom, where they had spent each night. The healer just smiled
and gathered the herbs and bandages Elrond requested and then left them.
"You are fortunate," Elrond remarked as he helped Faramir
pull off his outer tunic so he would be comfortable in the bed. "Stay
off your foot the rest of the day, and by tomorrow it should be nearly
fully healed."
"But I'll still be a fool for tripping like that," Faramir
said dourly, although he smiled a little at himself.
"Indeed you will," Elrond said gravely. Faramir scowled and
threw a pillow at the Elf, making then both laugh as Elrond easily ducked
the missile. "Now settle down and let me see what can be done for
your ankle."
Faramir sighed and let Elrond work on his foot, soaking it for a while
in a small basin of water and herbs, and then carefully re- wrapping
it again after using some of his healing energy on the injury. When
Elrond was done he joined his lover in bed and Faramir was more than
content.
"So I am supposed to stay in bed?" Faramir asked. Elrond
should have been suspicious at the look in those light eyes, but he
was not paying adequate attention.
"Yes, for the rest of the day and tonight."
"Perfect." Elrond frowned, knowing that Faramir's idea of
perfection was anything but being ill, but then he saw the expression
on his face and the Elf knew he had been neatly trapped into something.
Faramir blushed a little but gathered his courage and faced the Elf.
"Elrond, please, tonight can you make love to me…fully make
love?"
Elrond sighed at the request. Faramir had been growing more and more
stubborn about this issue, and Elrond had been sorely tempted to do
more than he had allowed. He had insisted on waiting for a time, not
wanting Faramir to feel rushed or pressured, but it did seem that the
moment was right. Still, there was Faramir's injury. "Your ankle…"
"Even I know that the use of my ankle is not terribly vital for
what I am asking," Faramir pointed out stubbornly. "And didn't
you just tell me to stay in bed?"
Elrond regarded the steward warily. "I almost suspect that you
injured yourself on purpose so to have this very excuse," he remarked.
Faramir raised one eyebrow and touched Elrond's face lightly. "I
leave in the Spring," he said quietly. "Even though we will
have some time together in the future, I do not wish to waste any of
our time here."
Elrond sighed at the plea. They had talked long about the future, and
Elrond admitted that he was hearing the call to sail West. He did not
plan to leave for some years yet, but it would eventually happen, and
Faramir accepted the Elf's fate. They would, however, still have some
years together before he left. The Elf planned to travel to Gondor and
enjoy time with his daughter and foster son - and his young love - before
he finally sailed.
Faramir searched his feelings and knew that his heart would break when
the Elf sailed, but he resolved to enjoy the time they did have. Elrond
reminded Faramir that he would not be alone, for Estel and Arwen looked
upon the Steward as family, and in time Faramir would have his own wife
and children and be loved by many. It was bittersweet, but both accepted
their destinies and took comfort in the time they shared now.
Elrond teased the prince about a future wife, trying to lighten Faramir's
mood. He said he would write Arwen that she should begin seeing contestants
for a bride for the Steward and Faramir groaned, complaining that Arwen
was already auditioning ladies. The last formal party Faramir attended
in Minas Tirith had been a thinly veiled matchmaking session, with a
number of mothers throwing their eligible daughters at the steward,
while the king and queen looked on approvingly. Faramir complained that
he felt like a prospective stud horse, and Aragorn merely laughed as
Arwen considered the crop of debutantes.
Seriously, Elrond said firmly that he wanted to see Faramir married
and settled before he left. Faramir was surprised that Elrond would
say thusly, but Elrond wanted to know that the prince was cared for
and happy. He had in fact already written Arwen, advising her that while
Faramir did need to take a wife, it should ideally be a love match.
No one planned to see Faramir pushed into an unwanted marriage, and
Arwen assured Elrond that it would be Faramir's decision on who to marry.
Elrond raised a hand and stroked the soft curls that fell around Faramir's
shoulders. "You are persistent, aren't you?" he said fondly.
"I have to be, since you drag your feet," Faramir responded,
smiling. The Elf returned the smile and sighed, making himself stand.
"We will talk," he promised. "Now however, I have a
meeting and you should rest for a few hours." He bent and pressed
a kiss to Faramir's forehead. "I will return as quickly as I can."
Chapter Ten
Faramir looked up from the book he was reading when Elrond returned.
He smiled at the Elf lord, as he saw him balancing a large tray of food
and drink. Elrond carefully put the tray down on a nearby table and
came to the bedside. "Dinner in tonight, I take it?" Faramir
asked.
"Most definitely," Elrond agreed, checking Faramir's ankle.
There was no further sign of swelling and he was satisfied at the condition
of his patient. "How does your ankle feel?"
"It throbs a little," Faramir admitted, "but not bad.
It doesn't hurt at all when I keep it still."
Elrond nodded. "And that is one reason to dine in here tonight;
you are in no shape to be hopping down to the dining hall."
"I could if necessary" Faramir argued mildly. "You said
that is one reason; what is the other?"
Elrond sat down on the edge of the bed and took Faramir's hands in
his own. He kissed them, and then smiled at his young love. "I
do not want to waste a single moment of this evening."
Faramir looked puzzled for a moment, and then his eyes grew wide. "Do
you mean what I think you mean?" he asked hopefully. Elrond nodded
again, his smile growing to match Faramir's grin.
"You have persuaded me, my love. Tonight I am yours." Elrond
found himself with an armful of warm Steward as Faramir hurled himself
at the Elf, hugging and kissing him. The healer laughed in between their
kisses until he put his hands gently on either side of Faramir's face
and made the young man pull back a bit.
"Thank you," Faramir whispered. Elrond shook his head.
"Thank you, my love, for being persistent with an old Elf who
is too cautious most of the time." Faramir chuckled in agreement
as Elrond stood up and went to the table. "But first we should
eat something." He made himself turn away to pick up the plates
of food.
They ate slowly, talking of small matters and enjoying each others
company. Faramir practically glowed with happiness and his joy was contagious.
Elrond smiled at his young lover, idly thinking how utterly desirable
Faramir looked and that he had indeed been a fool to deny Faramir this
intimacy. Elrond understood that there had been precious little joy
in Faramir's life and he was determined to change that.
The food on the tray was soon emptied, and Elrond made himself leave
Faramir's side one last time to put the tray on a table near the door.
He brought the bottle of wine back with him, and placed it on the nightstand
beside their glasses. Faramir smiled as the Elf lay down next to him
and soon they were kissing softly, Faramir happily stretched out, Elrond
carefully lying on top of him. They exchanged kisses and caresses until
Faramir sighed and pulled back a bit so he could look at the Elf.
"I'm afraid that I am not terribly certain what to do," he
admitted ruefully. Elrond chuckled and kissed his brow.
"All that time in the library and you never came across the more
interesting texts stored in there?" he teased.
Faramir grinned back. "Of course I found them," he said.
"But while the poets wrote lovely emotions there was precious little
insight into the precise details. Quite annoying of them, I must say."
"Ah, some things are best left to the imagination," Elrond
explained with a smile. "I know that this is new for you, my love.
Will you trust me and let me guide you as best I can?"
"I do trust you," Faramir answered firmly. "I just don't
want to disappoint you."
"You could never do that," Elrond assured him. He kissed
Faramir again and then stood up and began slowly removing his robes
and shoes. Faramir watched him lazily, his eyes appreciatively examining
each part of skin that was revealed. When Elrond stood before him completely
unclothed there was only admiration and love in Faramir's gaze, no apprehension
at all. Elrond smiled, and then began to pull off Faramir's clothes,
the steward sitting up to help him. When Faramir was as unclothed Elrond
the Elf bent and easily picked him up into his arms.
"What are you doing?" Faramir asked curiously as Elrond carried
him toward the bathing chamber.
"I think perhaps a warm bath is an excellent idea," Elrond
said.
"A perfect idea," Faramir agreed cheerfully. He sighed as
Elrond lowered him into the warm water. Elrond had returned to the room
an hour earlier when Faramir had been napping to light the coals in
the braziers under the metal tub. The water had warmed nicely and Faramir
grinned as the Elf joined him. They had shared baths before, but Elrond
had been strict about keeping some small distance between them and truthfully,
Faramir had been rather nervous himself. Now he was relaxed and looking
forward to what the night would bring.
Elrond drew Faramir onto his lap and they kissed, pulling apart only
to gently soap the other one, enjoying the warmth and intimacy. Faramir
was well aware of Elrond's growing arousal and his own manhood grew
in response. He shifted a little, deliberately brushing against Elrond,
and the Elf growled a little.
"Imp," he murmured into one ear. He kissed the lobe and Faramir
was the one now growling. "What are you trying to do?"
Farmir had to giggle as Elrond continued to kiss his ear. He'd had
no idea that was a ticklish spot for him and he knew Elrond was quite
pleased with his discovery. "Well, you were the one complaining
about how old you are," he started to explain, then he laughed
again as Elrond tickled his poor ear with kisses.
"Old?" Elrond asked, one eyebrow raised indignantly. "I
will show you who is experienced here, youngling." He turned Faramir
to face him and soon the man was joyfully accepting fierce kisses and
caresses that made him tremble.
Elrond ran a hand lightly down Faramir's chest, and slowly closed around
his cock. He watched for any sign of nervousness, but Faramir just sighed
and threw his head back at the touch. Encouraged, Elrond set about stroking
him and was rewarded with soft groans. He knew that Faramir truly trusted
him and his heart warmed with happiness.
"Have you done this before?" Elrond asked softly.
"Not…with another male," Faramir managed to answer.
He was trying to kiss the Elf, but Elrond's hand on his cock was distracting
him far too much, and he decided to just enjoy it. It did not take long
before he felt his release coming and his hands tightened around Elrond's
shoulders.
"Then accept this first gift, my love," Elrond whispered,
kissing his ear. In response Faramir tensed and then cried out as his
release exploded within him. Shaking and trembling, he arched his back
and then fell into Elrond's arms.
It was some minutes before Faramir regained his wits and then he kissed
the Elf softly, sighing in contentment. "Thank you," he said.
Elrond answered him with another kiss and soon he felt the Elf cuddling
him against his chest and then rising from the bath. The part of Faramir's
brain still thinking reflected how strong his lover truly was as Elrond
stepped out of the bath and stood Faramir on his feet only long enough
to dry them quickly with a warmed towel. Then he was swept back up and
carried to the bed.
Faramir stretched out on the bed once he was lowered down, making himself
comfortable and eagerly accepting Elrond as the Elf stretched out over
him. It felt warm and incredibly safe in Elrond's arms, and Faramir
delighted as he learned what touches made the healer tremble, thoroughly
enjoying his exploration. He sighed in bliss as Elrond's fingertips
caressed his cheeks; the touch was soft and fleetingly magical as the
Elf did his own exploring and discovery. His eyes drifted shut as the
fingers continued to wander down.
Faramir was a virgin to male intercourse, but not naïve and he
knew what to expect. When he felt Elrond rise up off him he opened his
eyes to see the healer taking a small flask of oil from the night table.
He felt nervous, but unhesitatingly accepted the Elf back into his arms,
knowing what Elrond was doing. He parted his legs at the gentle urging
and took a deep breath to calm himself.
Elrond's healing touch could be used in many ways, and he drew upon
that gift now to make their joining as painless as possible for Faramir.
His heart filled with joy as Faramir accepted him without hesitation
and by the time his well oiled finger found the small opening it was
seeking, Faramir was looking at him with only love and anticipation.
The healer took his time preparing the tiny spot, watching as Faramir's
eyes drifted shut. The steward was nearly purring as he grew accustomed
to the touch, and Elrond poured all his powers into easing the tight
muscles. He told himself firmly to not rush his young love, and it was
only when Faramir shifted under him, reaching for the oil flask, that
he drew back. Faramir smiled as he poured the oil onto his hands and
confidentially coated the Elf's manhood, then lay back in invitation.
Faramir's eyes were wide open, watching the Elf as their bodies joined.
There was some pain, but it was fleeting and he concentrated on the
pleasurable feelings, quickly becoming swept up in the passion. Dimly
he heard soft cries of joy and knew they came from him and Elrond. When
the pleasure peaked he closed his eyes and for the first time in his
life truly gave himself over to the joy he felt in his body and soul.
EPILOGUE
The birds sang in the trees, welcoming the return of Spring. They were
joyous that winter was gone and cared not of the beings in the courtyard
of Rivendell who seemed disappointed that spring had truly come to the
land. The birds thought the Elves and Men were quite silly anyway, and
paid them no attention as they continued their songs.
Standing by his horse, Faramir took a deep breath to steady himself.
Feeling Elrond's warm hand on his shoulder, he smiled and took comfort
from the touch.
They had said their private good-byes earlier and now all that remained
was for Faramir to begin his trip back to Minas Tirith. His Rangers
stood a polite distance away, visiting quietly with the Elves that had
come to see them off. Faramir tightened the last strap on the saddle
and turned to face his lover.
"We will see each other in a few months," Elrond said. He
had decided to journey to Gondor for the next winter, and Faramir was
looking forward to showing him around his city.
"I will count the days," Faramir answered, and from Elrond's
smile he knew the Elf would do the same. "I will never regret any
of the time we have together."
Gandalf smiled at the two, his heart light at seeing the love they
shared. "I will be only a few days behind, Faramir," he said.
"We will have much to do to help restore Gondor to its glory and
the time will pass quickly until fall." He looked at the Elf. "And
we will expect you before the first snows; do not be late for this one
will likely coming looking for you." Faramir laughed softly at
the teasing, knowing it was true. Elrond simply looked his usual calm
self, but Faramir saw his eyes twinkle in amusement.
The steward took a deep breath and turn to face the wizard. "Thank
you, Ada," he said softly. Gandalf startled at the word, and Elrond
raised one eyebrow. Faramir looked shy, but nodded. "Denethor is
my father, but you are Ada," he said carefully, his words quiet
so only they could hear. "May I call you that?"
Gandalf reached out and hugged the steward fiercely. "Of course,"
he said. He continued to hug the prince and only let go when Elrond
cleared his throat subtly.
It took all his will to mount his horse, but Faramir would not leave
this place sad. He touched Elrond's shoulder and felt the Elf's healing
power pass to him one more time, this time soothing his heart. He smiled
at them, and then turned his horse to the path to Gondor.
weeks later
The bells of the city heralded the return of the Steward, and Faramir
was a bit overwhelmed at all who welcomed him back to Minas Tirith.
It was sometime before he was able to politely get past all the people
and headed for retreat to his own apartments. He just had time for a
quick bath before joining the king and queen for supper. Aragorn had
smiled mysteriously when he had directed the Steward to his rooms and
Faramir wondered whatever the king could be up to this time. He opened
the door to his bedroom and stopped short at the sight that greeted
him.
Sitting in the middle of his bed was a huge stuffed dragon, looking
freshly washed and fluffed. Faramir stared at it for a long minute before
noticing that it had a card on a ribbon around its neck. He sat down
on the bed and opened the card, recognizing at once Elrond's writing.
*We both love you* the card read. Faramir smiled, and knew
it was true.
THE END
