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"Here was one with an air of high nobility such as Aragorn at times revealed, less high perhaps, yet also less incalculable and remote: one of the Kings of Men born into a later time, but touched with the wisdome and sadness of the Elder Race. He knew now why Beregond spoke his name with love. He was a captain that men would follow, that he would follow, even under the shadow of the black wings."
[from: Return of the King; The Siege of Gondor]
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Title: Darkness and Light
Authors: Minx Kat (greenrivervalley@gmail.com) and Lilith (lilith@storm.ca)
Pairings: Faramir/Aragorn/Haldir, Faramir/Lurtz and assorted Orcs, Faramir/Gríma
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Slash, violence, torture, rape, AU.
Summary: Faramir joins the Fellowship instead of Boromir. After being captured and abused in Moria, he is rescued and taken to Lórien for healing.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the Tolkien estate, not us.
Notes: An intriguing plot bunny at the Library of Moria challenged us to take Faramir on the quest, have him captured in Moria, and then taken to Lórien to be healed. This is the result.
Many thanks to Iris for beta reading!

printable version

 

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CHAPTER ONE

The setting sun cast long shadows on the mountainsides as Aragorn looked back in despair, wondering again whether he had acted correctly. Then he watched the rest of the party that followed him straggling on, weary in mind and body.

"It will all be well now. We're near Lórien," Legolas tried to reassure him. "They can help us there."

"We are nine no more," Aragorn said unhappily, "First Gandalf," he shuddered as he thought back to the terrible events that had taken the wizard from them. "And then – I should not have left him there alone, Legolas! How could I have thought he would escape unscathed? I should have turned back when we realised he had not come out with us!"

"Then what of Frodo? He is weary and hurting, Aragorn. And Sam and Pippin? They are injured. I did not like leaving Faramir to guard our rear either. I should have stayed back with him to help," the elf responded heavily.

"We would never have left Moria had you and Gimli not cleared our way," Aragorn replied. "We must reach Lórien soon, Legolas, and then I will return for Faramir."

Bracing himself, Aragorn turned to lead the others forward again. After a long look back at the mines, Legolas too followed.


Faramir of Gondor came awake slowly. He felt cold and ached all over, and a foul stench assaulted his nostrils, confusing him greatly. It was a smell he had come across earlier while fighting near the borders of Mordor, and for a brief second he thought that was where he might be – on a battlefield. He forced himself to open his eyes, only to find that it was of no help. He could see nothing. He panicked at that and tried to move, sending sharp aches all over his body.

Breathing heavily, he tried to get his senses to respond, to figure out what was happening. There was no light, he realised; his eyes had to adjust to the darkness. He was lying on a hard surface; weaponless. Even his cloak no longer covered him. He was not in Ithilien, that much he could remember. He was not even in Gondor. I was travelling, he remembered, with others...

A harsh noise suddenly interrupted his thoughts.

"He's awake," a voice said gleefully, and pain erupted in the side of his chest as he was viciously kicked.

Faramir cried out involuntarily and tried to curl up to protect his midriff, pain flaring through various other parts of his body, but a second kick, this time to the small of his back, sent him rolling over again. He screwed up his face in pain, and nearly gasped as someone bent low over him, and the foul smell came nearer, almost making him gag. An Orc soldier, he thought to himself. Uruk-hai!

"Get up," the creature growled in his ear, even as he tried to process his muddled thoughts. "It's time to play."

"Hurry up, Lurtz, let's taste this one. He looks a fine piece," a second voice, much hoarser in tone, rang out in his other ear, and Faramir instinctively turned towards it.

There were more of them, he realised. At least four more, and he was trapped among them, his aching body unable to move. He remembered falling, being struck on his head by a vicious blow, followed by more blows to various parts of his body. But where was he? They had been on a quest...

He was dragged up by the largest of them, the one called Lurtz, and his grey eyes met the Orc's dark leery ones. He tried ineffectually to struggle, trying to hit the larger creature, kicking his legs out desperately. His resistance angered the Uruk-hai, who responded by punching him in the stomach. Faramir cried out in pain.

"The pup resists," Lurtz laughed, a horrible sound to the man's ears.

"Should we show him what we do to prisoners who try to resist?" a shorter one asked. More laughter followed as Lurtz released Faramir, forcing him to fall heavily to the floor. He lay there gasping softly, clutching his abdomen.

Moria! He remembered. The mines. They had travelled through the mines. He had been loathe to enter them, and yet had followed the others, for Mithrandir had said there was no other way. Mithrandir! There had been a tomb, and then noises, they had fled, then Mithrandir...

He felt himself being dragged across the hard floor, and then he was thrown forward into a small chamber. He fell against one of the walls, the side of his head hitting the surface so hard that he nearly blacked out. He was pulled up by his hair, and slammed against the wall again.

Where were the others? he wondered in a daze, as his face was pressed onto the cold rough surface. Mithrandir had fallen, that terrible creature... but the others? The hobbits, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli… he seemed to be alone here, in the blackness.

He felt hands on his body and came to awareness as claw-like fingers removed his clothes. His shirt was torn off roughly, the rending sound echoing off the walls of the dark chamber. He struggled frantically, screaming out as sharp nails scratched his bare skin, only to have his wrists grabbed, and then encased in cold metal. He tugged ineffectually, and then realised that his hands were shackled to heavy iron chains hanging from the ceiling. He fell forward slumping against the wall. The chains forced his hands above his head, while his feet trailed on the ground. A rough hand ran over his back, causing him to cry out in fear.

His face was pressed into the wall once again, stretching his hands, the pain from the jerking movement travelling all the way from his shoulders to his wrists.

Hot, rancid breaths hit his neck and cheek as Lurtz pulled back his hair and grunted in his ear. He felt the sharp blade of a knife run down the exposed portion of his cheek. He was scared, he realised. Scared not just for himself, but now for his companions too.

"You miserable little human! I'll show you what you get for trying to hit me!"

He tried one more time to kick out his legs. He felt his foot connect with bone, and heard a vile scream from Lurtz's mouth as he fell back, his knife grazing Faramir's face lightly. A string of curses followed in a language he could not understand but that by its very sound sent fear coursing through his veins. The others promptly sprang into action, and he felt the short one pulling him back from the wall. The pain travelled through his arms again, causing him to gasp aloud. Hands grabbed the waistband of his leggings and yanked them off cruelly, leaving him naked, before he could even force his protesting limbs to react. A kick to the back of his knees sent him crashing against the wall.

He moaned.

"What did I tell you, insolent pup!" Lurtz screamed in his ear, having risen painfully off the floor. He slipped his hand between Faramir's bare legs, pushing them apart, and Faramir stiffened as he felt the metal of the knife on the skin of his inner thigh.

"We haven't had our fun yet, or you would know what I can do to your like," Lurtz gritted out, digging the knife into the soft skin.

Faramir cried out in pain as the sharp edge dug into his flesh. Lurtz dragged it viciously up, tearing the skin. A warm trail of blood gushed down Faramir's leg from the deep, jagged cut.

"Try anything else, you little runt, and I'll take it higher!"

Faramir fell limply against the wall when the Uruk-hai moved away, panting softly, unable to support himself on his injured leg. He dreaded to think what lay ahead, knowing there was no way he could escape the clutches of these monstrous creatures. There was nothing he could do but endure whatever they put him through. He shut his eyes and waited for the torment he knew was yet to come. Even when he heard the cracking sound of the whip, he didn't react.

Leather knots landed on the bare skin of his back, and he bit his lip in a bid to stay silent. Soon the air was heavy with the sound of the lash and the Uruks' chorus of laughter. They took turns hitting him. The lash was thick and long, and it took but four strikes before it broke skin; a line of red that ran from his shoulder blade to nearly the hip bone. Faramir pushed his head against the wall, trying desperately not to scream. Tears coursed down his cheeks, and he gasped hoarsely each time the whip landed. He finally had to cry out, inducing further laughter.

"Little pup is not so brave after all, is he?" the hoarse one taunted. "He looks much prettier when he bleeds!"

"Hurry!" another one urged. "I don't know how much longer I can wait to taste him!"

Faramir was barely conscious when the whipping ended and he was unshackled. He crumpled down, falling right into the short one's arms.

"My turn first," the Uruk growled.

"No!" said Lurtz, grabbing at Faramir's waist. Sharp nails raked his skin and he sobbed harshly at the sensation.

"You got to whip him," came the answering growl. Faramir hung limply in Lurtz's arms as they argued over him. He supposed he should do something, but he couldn't. He could barely move. His back and leg were on fire, his ribs throbbed mercilessly, and his arms felt numb. And all through, his head pounded miserably.

Lurtz suddenly dropped Faramir to the ground, leaping at the other Uruk-hai in anger. Faramir watched disinterestedly from where he lay as Lurtz screamed at the shorter one, before stalking back to him. He pulled him roughly to his feet and dragged him to the far corner of the room, tossing him facedown onto a wide stone bench. Faramir felt himself being pulled back so that he lay bent over it on his chest and stomach, his backside turned up. Behind him, he heard the rustle of clothing being removed.

Realising what was to come, he tried one last shot at resistance.

"No!" he screamed, vaulting onto his back in a burst of energy that he hadn't known he still had in him, trying to fend off the half-naked creature looming over him, the eyes dripping with lust, the exposed member near-rigid in anticipation.

It was to no avail. They held him down, leaving him on his back so that the stone scraped his raw wounds. Lurtz grabbed his ankles and pushed his legs up and apart. Two of the other Uruks held his arms while Lurtz smiled at him, his leering eyes level with Faramir's terrified ones. Reaching down he stroked his large member and then leaned forward and assaulted Faramir's lips with his mouth, his rigid, wet shaft poking into Faramir's belly, until lack of air caused him to pull away.

"Fight all you like, little one! I like a plaything that tries to fight!" he said and then pushed into Faramir's unprepared entrance in one swift motion.

Faramir screamed as the huge organ tore through the tight ring of muscle, and pushed in relentlessly. Pain exploded through his lower body, as Lurtz thrust into him repeatedly. He bit into Faramir's left nipple, his sharp teeth causing the young man to rear up in pain, which only sent Lurtz into greater raptures. He lifted his head and grabbed Faramir's waist digging his nails into the soft skin, as the slender hips bucked under his weight. The Uruks holding Faramir down had let go, each preferring to concentrate instead on their own needs at the sight of Lurtz driving into the slender body writhing beneath him in agony.

With one final, painful thrust Lurtz came inside Faramir. He lifted his head and threw it back in a wild gesture, howling in pleasure as he released himself inside the tight passage, his nails digging into Faramir's waist. When he was done, he pulled out in a quick motion that caused Faramir to scream again. Then the hoarse one took his turn, and by the time he was finished, Faramir himself was so hoarse he could barely whimper in pain. One of the ones who had been holding him down took him next and this time they turned him onto his stomach, so that his head dangled off the bench, and while one took him from behind, the other forced his engorged member down Faramir's throat.

Faramir was not sure how much time had passed, how many times he was raped, or how many times he had sucked off one of the Uruks before they started arguing over him again. He had long since lost himself in some other realm of being, but now the raised voices brought him back to awareness, to the intense pain and the shock and fear that raced through his battered body. He lay on the stone bench, on his back now, his legs dangling off one side, splayed apart, a grotesque mix of blood and semen trickling down from his abused passage. He was covered with bruises and deep scratches, in addition to the cuts left by the whip, and the wound in his leg still bled. His cracked lips bore the sticky white remains of repeated oral assaults. He could not move. The sounds of argument stopped and he turned his head dully towards his attackers, watching as Lurtz and the hoarse one came towards him, leaving three resentful Uruks standing behind.

"Still alive, little one? Good, you can give us some more fun!"

Faramir remained there unmoving, as Lurtz grabbed his legs for the third, or was it the fourth time, and began pushing into him. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back; hoping he could just black out, afraid his pain would bring him back to consciousness again. This time however, it was the clunking sound of footsteps outside the chamber. Faramir automatically opened his eyes and turned his head slowly towards the entrance even as Lurtz pulled out of him, suddenly causing Faramir to let out a soundless cry of pain. All five Uruks turned towards the door. The footsteps neared, until a figure finally appeared at the doorway.

 

 


CHAPTER TWO

 

The weary travellers had journeyed as fast as they could, stopping only to tend the wounded hobbits along the way, but the moon was high in the sky by the time they reached Nimrodel. In the shadows they heard murmured elvish conversations and sparkling laughter. They knew that they were being watched, but the elves stayed hidden.

"Can you not call out to them, Legolas? I must return soon." Aragorn's voice was desperate.

"You know as well as I that the guardians of Lothlórien must hail us first," Legolas reminded him gently.

"But what of Faramir? What has happened to him?"

Legolas was silent. He did not like to think whether their friend was dead, or worse.

"I should leave you and Gimli here with the hobbits and return to Moria now."

"No, Aragorn, you cannot do that," Legolas insisted. "Gandalf entrusted their care to you. And how will Sam make it to Lórien without you? Gimli cannot carry him." Legolas looked at the tiny hobbit on the man's back, the cut from a stray Orc's blade on his leg making it difficult for him to walk.

"And I do not suppose you can bear yet another small hobbit? Aragorn asked, glancing at Pippin riding piggyback behind Legolas. He sighed, "What ill fortune we have met."

They struggled on, well into the forest of Lórien, before the guardians hailed them.

"Daro!" said a commanding voice, as three elves stepped forward from the trees. "Who dares to cross unbidden into the land of the Lady?"

"Finally," murmured Aragorn under his breath, eliciting a shushing sound from Legolas. They set the injured hobbits beside each other on a log; the other walkers stood behind the man and elf. Stepping forward, Aragorn bowed slightly as he introduced himself. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. My friends and I have journeyed from Rivendell to seek aid from the Lady of Lórien."

"We have heard rumours of your coming through Elrond, and the Lady welcomes you," said the tallest of the three. "We are the Guardians of Lothlórien. I am Haldir; these are my brothers, Rúmil and Orophin." He gestured towards the two figures beside him, and the fellowship gazed at them in wonder. Like three silver birch trees they stood, their porcelain skin framed by long golden locks. The shimmering iridescence of their garments mirrored the shadows cast by the moonlight in the trees. Though accustomed to the elves of Rivendell, the travellers found themselves strangely awed by the terrible beauty of the brothers.

Haldir scanned the party even as their eyes took him in. "Elrond spoke of a fellowship of nine. Where are your other companions?"

"One of our party, Gandalf the Grey, was lost to the Balrog in Moria," Aragorn replied.

"That is a sore loss to all of us," Haldir said bitterly. "Gandalf has long been a friend of the elves."

"Our ninth companion, a son of Gondor, was captured by the Orcs – alive, I believe – and I must go back for him," Aragorn continued.

Haldir shook his head slowly. "The Orcs do not take prisoners, I fear. Even if he was alive for a short while, the foul beasts have surely killed him by now. And it is far better that they do so," the elf added, a faint shudder passing through his broad shoulders.

Legolas glanced at Aragorn and saw the despair deepen in his eyes. Speaking rapidly in Silvan elvish, which he knew the ranger did not understand, he addressed the guardians.

"I am Legolas Prince of Mirkwood."

"We have heard of you, kinsman," Haldir acknowledged.

"You are correct – the chance that our friend is still alive is very slim. We fled Moria two days ago. We travelled as quickly as we could, but as you can see, two of our companions were injured. I fear that nothing we can do will help him now."

Legolas took a deep breath before he continued, "Nonetheless, Aragorn is heavy-hearted at the loss of his two friends. The possibility that he might save one of them is driving him to desperation. I fear that he will act rashly by returning to Moria alone."

"The rashness of men is not the concern of Lórien," Rúmil said haughtily.

"Nor should it be," Legolas conceded. "However, the events that bring this man here concern all of Middle-earth. I hesitate to speak of our quest, as that is for the ears of the Lady alone, but I will say that Aragorn is the greatest hope that we have against the growing darkness in the east."

"What would you have us do, Legolas?" Orophin asked. "Do you want legions of elves to storm Moria looking for your friend's dead body?"

Legolas smiled disarmingly. "Yes, actually, that would be quite helpful."

Orophin and Rúmil snorted in disgust, but Haldir regarded Legolas with a bemused expression.

"You are very bold, cousin of Mirkwood," Haldir said, "and this man's devotion is admirable. These are qualities that we need in our friends in these troubled times. Aragorn son of Arathorn has the favour of the Lady Galadriel. In her mirror she has foreseen great things for him, and would want us to lend what assistance we can. That will not be legions of elves, but perhaps there is something we can offer. Let me consult with my brothers."

Legolas returned to his friends as the three elves conferred.

"Are you going to save Faramir?" Pippin asked weakly.

"Yes, Pippin, we are, one way or another," Aragorn answered, rubbing the hobbit's brown curls. "What of the elves, Legolas? I must start back soon."

"There may be hope, Aragorn, we must wait and see." He looked over to where the elves were having what passed, for elves, as a contentious discussion. Rúmil and Orophin seemed to be protesting, but Haldir was answering each of their objections in a smooth and commanding tone. Their silvery voices sounded like rushing water to the travellers, and they were soothed by the sound.

Finally the elves finished and rejoined the others. Addressing them in the Common Language, Haldir said, "Legolas has told me of your plight. It is extraordinary for Lórien to become embroiled in the affairs of the world, especially those that primarily concern men. However, these are extraordinary times. I have been moved by your fidelity towards your kinsman, Aragorn, and offer the aid of myself and my brother Rúmil. We will accompany you back to Moria and help you find your friend. Orophin has consented to take the rest of your party to the Lady, save the dwarf. Only I can vouch for his passage through Lórien."

"I must go with Aragorn!" Legolas protested.

"No, kinsman," Haldir said. "It is your duty to explain your quest to the Lady. As you say, it is for her ears alone, and it will be better if she hears you tell it."

Legolas started to object, but was stopped by Aragorn's hand on his shoulder. "He is right," the man said. "You are in charge of the fellowship until I return. Look after our friends well."

"As you wish," Legolas bowed his head.

"I want to set out immediately," Aragorn said to Haldir.

"As you wish," said Haldir, only half-mocking the other elf.

"And dwarves can travel day and night without fatigue," Gimli added, his annoyance at not being allowed to enter Lothlórien assuaged by the fact that he would accompany Aragorn.

After bidding their friends a brief farewell, the four travellers started back in the direction from whence they had come, Aragorn pushing them ever faster. Only his frenzied pace could keep his mind off what they might find when they arrived.


"Well, what have we here?" The human voice should have been a relief after the harsh grunts of the Uruk-hai, but instead it made Faramir's blood run cold.

"He's mine," Lurtz growled.

"Oh, I was not aware the Uruk-hai had such a soft spot for men," the voice purred. "Saruman will not be pleased by your little … distraction."

"He will never know; this man won't live to tell. Mind your own business, Gríma Wormtongue."

"You fool, do you know who this is?" the velvety voice hissed. "The son of the steward of Gondor is a valuable prize, not a plaything for a hell-beast like you."

Faramir's battered eyes opened just enough to see the man standing above him. His waxen flesh was inhumanly pale. Heavy lids covered misty eyes that greedily darted over Faramir's face, drinking in the sight of the man lying naked before him, shivering and streaked with sweat and blood. Gríma licked the bottom of his curled lip, the suggestive gesture making Faramir feel sick. His head rolled back and a faint groan escaped his chafed lips.

"You poor creature," the man said silkily, brushing his long fingers through Faramir's matted hair. "I would never envy anyone unfortunate enough to win Lurtz' heart." The Uruk-hai moved toward him in rage, but Gríma stopped him with a wave of his hand. "You have done quite enough, Lurtz. Do not force me to tell Saruman of this latest indulgence; it will go ill for you."

The Uruk-hai grunted derisively, but then turned and stormed out of the room, followed by the others.

"There, my young lord, you are safe now," Gríma whispered as he ran his fingers along the length of Faramir's chest. "My, but you are a pretty one. I see why Lurtz was tempted."

Gríma took a wet cloth and began cleaning his injuries. His touch lingered long on each of the wounds, searing the pain deeper into Faramir's broken body, and the young man fought not to cry out. He tried to think of something else – anything else – but found nothing to grasp beyond the blackness of the last few hours. Gríma's hands wandered further down now, to the cuts on his stomach, then lower, to stroke the bloody gash on the inside of his thigh. Faramir groaned when the cloth finally delved between his legs to wipe off the oozing cum. He opened his eyes just enough to see Gríma's erection. No! he screamed inside, but outwardly only released a faint moan.

The sound was enough to startle Gríma, and he quickly withdrew his hand.

"But first things first. I will take you to Master, but you are too weak to travel now." He rummaged through a tattered bag on the floor and returned with a small bottle. "This will make you stronger, my precious, and ready for me," he cooed, lifting Faramir's head and forcing him to drink.

Faramir choked as the burning liquid coursed down his throat. Before the foul taste even dissipated, a blinding pain hit him between the eyes. Faramir arched his body in pain as blackness took him.


"There you are. I searched everywhere for you."

"Boromir?" Faramir struggled to open his eyes, but he was still blinded with pain.

"Of course, who else must always save you?"

"Boromir, how did you find me?" Faramir could just make out a figure in the shadows, but the features were unclear. The voice was clearly his brother's, though.

"It is not as if I had nothing better to do," Boromir continued, with a hardness that Faramir had never heard before. "Yet once again, I must drop everything to pull my little brother out of trouble. Why is that, Faramir?"

Faramir could only whimper as he reached towards the voice, grasping nothing but air. Still his brother continued, "Because even your friends abandoned you – you should have known that they couldn't be trusted."

"But they got away –" Faramir started.

"What a foolish thought, my brother. Even betraying you could not save them. They are all dead now, no thanks to you. Father is right, you know. You are quite useless. Even this simple journey was beyond your ability."

"No, Boromir –" Faramir pleaded, fighting the grievous thoughts he had long held back. He well knew his worth to his father, and had thought to earn his respect with this journey. Now he knew Denethor was right. When he was put to the test, he was found lacking. And his friends had died because of it. Now he deserved to die as they had....

Icy hands groping his shredded back snapped him back from these dark thoughts. He felt one hand caressing him while the other held him firmly in place. Greedy exploring fingers dipped into the crack between his legs, and he instinctively clenched his muscles to prevent further entry. His efforts were futile – the fingers probed inside him, followed by a thicker thumb. Faramir cried out as the wounds left by the Uruk-hai were reopened.

His brother spoke more gently now. "You are fortunate that Gríma found you, little brother. He is our friend, and your only hope. Do whatever he says – I leave you in his hands."

"No, do not leave me – please –" Faramir pleaded, but the voice spoke no more.

He fought to open his eyes, desperately needing to see Boromir. Instead he saw the cave's stone floor and felt a heavy weight across his back. It took him a moment to realize it was the weight of another's body. Then he felt a shuddering pain as his protesting flesh was impaled. Faramir tried to pull away, but rough hands secured his hips and drew him back, piercing him even deeper. He wanted to scream, but could only grunt helplessly, in time with his attacker's ruthless grinding.

Gríma's face contorted grotesquely in concentration. It had been long since he had enjoyed this kind of sport. The terror in the other man's rigid body excited him even more, infusing him with an intoxicating power. With ever-increasing speed he pounded Faramir mercilessly into the hard table. He knew the drugs were taking effect when he felt the body behind him straining back towards him.

Faramir clenched his eyes tightly as he fought against the quickening of his own erection. His own body was betraying him, reflexively pushing back against Gríma's relentless attacks. The friction was too powerful, and though he hated himself for it, Faramir felt himself building towards climax. Even as Gríma gasped and collapsed onto him, Faramir felt his own release. There was no pleasure in it, just the aching of the other man still between his legs and a growing wave of nausea.

Gríma leaned over Faramir's back, beads of sweat dripping from his pale face. Yes, this man is quite a prize, he thought to himself. It will not be easy handing him over to Master. As he reached out to stroke Faramir's face, the man quivered beneath him and retched onto the floor. Gríma sighed, and pulled himself out from between his legs.

"Yes, sadly that is one of the side effects of the draught," he said, turning Faramir over and drawing him into his arms. "But you will see, you will be stronger soon, and well able to travel." He brushed Faramir's locks from his face. "I dare say you are stronger already, for I felt your own pleasure then as well as mine. Another side effect, but it is better for you this way, is it not?"

Faramir's head lolled to the side as the room spun around him. He could hear someone speaking, but the words made no sense. He remembered his brother had been there ... and before that some smaller creatures, and an elf. Where did they all go? he thought, trying to focus his clouded mind.

Through the dim he heard Aragorn's voice. "The fellowship is lost, Faramir. We were so close to the door. If you had held out a just a few minutes more we could have made it."

"I did what I could, Aragorn, I tried to hold them back."

"Because of your incompetence the quest is lost. The hobbits are all dead. Legolas is dead. Gimli is dead. As am I. You are the only one still alive, Faramir. Why do you think that is?"

"It's not my fault –"

"Excuses, just as I would expect from the steward's second son. Why could he not send his best man? Your brother would not have given up so easily."

"But I did not give up – I fought as long as I could –" Faramir stammered.

"Perhaps you did, and perhaps you did not. All I know is that you are still alive while those you called your friends were killed. Somehow that reeks of a treachery that I did not expect from a son of Gondor."

Faramir protested weakly, "No, it's not true."

"But perhaps it is in keeping with your devious plan. If the last of Isildur's heirs is killed, then the crown would be in the hands of the stewards forever. I should never have trusted you."

"No!" Faramir cried, "I would never do that! The crown is yours, Aragorn. The stewards have always kept it safe for your return."

"Yes, it was safe as long as the king was missing. Once I reappeared, you had to scheme to get rid of me. I see it all now. Oh, why did I ever trust you, Faramir?"

Faramir tried to protest again, but it was no use; the blackness was taking him again, and he was too weak to resist.

 

 


CHAPTER THREE

 

Dawn was just breaking and already the travellers had entered the mountains. Their night passage had been swift through the valley, the fleet feet of the elves matched by the determined pace of the man and dwarf. Only as they approached Silverlode, at the mouth of the Great River, would Aragorn consent to a brief rest.

Gimli and Rúmil immediately sat down to eat, leading to a spirited debate about the merits of lembas bread. Their argument assaulted Aragorn's ears, and he wandered alone to the riverbank and gazed towards the Misty Mountains.

"Oh, Faramir, please be safe," Aragorn whispered quietly.

"There is a strong connection between you and this man, is there not?" Haldir said, startling Aragorn, who had not heard his silent footsteps.

"Yes, there is," Aragorn admitted, "and I confess that I wish there was even more." He turned and looked at Haldir, tears glistening in his eyes. "That is why I cannot believe he is dead."

The man would be better off dead than alive and at the mercy of the Orcs, Haldir thought to himself. He remembered the days of Celebrimbor, long past now, when Moria had been a friendly place to the elves. Since the dwarves awakened evil in the mountains it had been avoided, but Haldir still pitied Balin and his kinsmen. The tale of their cruel fate had crossed the borders of Lórien, leaving no doubt about the brutality of Orcs towards their prey.

Haldir knew that these thoughts would not comfort the man beside him, so he searched for another topic. "How was your friend captured?" he finally asked. The elf did not really care about the details of the skirmish; he just wanted to distract Aragorn in the telling of it.

"We were overwhelmed by Uruk-hai as we fled from the bridge of Khazad-Dû m. Gandalf was already lost – he held a Balrog at bay, allowing us to escape, but then he fell –" Aragorn shuddered violently at the thought before continuing his story. "We knew we were close to the entrance. There was light there, real light that gave us hope that we might escape that accursed place. But the Uruk-hai were unstoppable. We fought them, even the hobbits that you met. They are small, and not given to battle, but they are fierce combatants when pressed."

Aragorn smiled sadly. "Legolas and Gimli were our advance guard, Faramir and I held up the rear. We finally made it to the last hall. We could even see the door at the other end. Faramir yelled for me to go ahead. Oh, I should not have listened, but I did." Tears spilled onto Aragorn's face now, glistening in the morning sun. "I didn't even see what happened. One minute he was there, the next I only heard his scream, and horrible sounds –" Aragorn squeezed his eyes shut and wept quietly.

Haldir wondered at his wisdom in bringing up this subject. He was about to say something else when Aragorn continued in a quiet voice. "The thing is, when I first met Faramir, I did not esteem him as he deserved. I saw him only as the second son of the steward, only a representative of Gondor – even as a liability for our quest." Aragorn sighed heavily. "As we travelled I learned there was so much more to the man. He is wise, and compassionate, and so brave. I never realized how brave he was. It was only in Moria, as we were fighting side by side, that I saw him for who he is. Oh valiant heart!" Aragorn cried out, "I've failed you!"

Haldir, Guardian of Lórien, had never given much thought to the relationships between men. The few men he had met in the past seemed uncultured and bellicose, their lives too brief to encompass the deep feelings and understanding that elves took for love. But hearing these words, he found himself strangely moved. He wrapped his arms around the man, holding him tightly as Aragorn wept for his friend.


"Faramir, awake!"

The voice, one he had not heard for thirty years, startled him from sleep. "Mother?"

"Yes, my son, I am here for you." Faramir felt a comforting hand smooth his tangled hair.

Faramir scrambled to sit up, but his eyes could see nothing but dark shadows. "Mother, where are you? I need you," he pleaded, his voice cracking like a child's.

"My poor little boy. I did hate to leave you those many years ago," Finduilas said soothingly. Faramir sighed as arms encircled him, and he relaxed into his mother's warm embrace. He felt safe for the first time in ages. Her voice held the promise of peace and comfort.

"Long was my struggle to stay with my sons. But I have ever watched over you and your brother. He has become quite the warrior."

There was a pause, then his mother's voice said, "But I have not been happy with what I have seen of you. You are weak, Faramir. You shame the entire realm of Gondor."

"It isn't true," Faramir whispered.

He tried to pull away from the embrace, but arms held him fast as Finduilas continued. "Nay, I speak justly. I had hoped for much more from you. Instead you let your companions down. They are lost because of your weakness."

"I tried to save them –"

"Yet even your best efforts failed. What could you have done? What could you ever do? You could not even save yourself. It was lore and dreams that you always sought, when you should have been studying swordplay like your brother. Your books did you no good in the end, did they, my son?"

The hatred dripping from these last two words was horrifying. "Mother, why are you saying this?" he whimpered softly.

"I say it for your own good," the voice replied haughtily. "You are no son of mine. You are a prisoner, the whore of beasts like Lurtz. My death was a blessing, for I could not live with this shame."

"No! It's not real! You're not real!" Faramir protested, struggling to wake up.

"Only Gríma Wormtongue cares for you now, Faramir. You have no one else."

Faramir awoke sobbing in the very real arms of Gríma. Feelings of revulsion battled with his desolation. Despising himself, he surrendered to his need for solace as Gríma's pale, thin lips covered his own.


Faramir shivered. The stone floor was very cold on his naked skin – and very real. At least this is not another nightmare, he thought, reaching out towards a dirty blanket lying on the ground. As he moved, a blinding pain shot through his lower back and he groaned sharply.

"Ah, you are awake, my precious," Wormtongue purred. He knelt beside Faramir, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. "I fear I have no travelling clothes for you. Those filthy beasts tore yours to shreds, and mine will not fit you." He appraised Faramir's body with hungry eyes, and a pointed tongue darted over his upper lip.

Then he abruptly stood up. "Nonetheless, Master will not abide any further delays. Lurtz has already poisoned his ears, no doubt, and your health can only be blamed for so long. We must ride tonight."

"How long have I been here?" Faramir rasped.

"Your third day as Master's guest is drawing to a close. You will meet him soon – he will be well pleased with this gift," Gríma added almost to himself.

As Gríma roughly pulled him to his feet, agonizing pain shot through Faramir's back. He tried to slide to the ground, but Wormtongue held him fast in his grip. By the time a riding cloak was fastened around his neck, the pain had subsided and he took the blanket that Gríma handed him to wrap around his waist. Then the shackles were refastened on his bruised wrists and ankles. "Just a precaution, my dear. If you tried to escape Lurtz would only find you again, and I doubt he would be as gentle this time."

He turned then, pulling his prisoner by the chains. Faramir groaned as they moved, his body aching with every step.

"We have only a short distance to go," Wormtongue purred, pulling the chains harder now. "My horse is hidden outside the Gates. Then we ride to Isengard."

Even this short distance was excruciating to Faramir. As they entered the hall where he had been captured, his mind reeled and he collapsed to the ground. Gríma tried in vain to lift him, but the young man was beyond his reach. Looking around, Wormtongue spotted a small, dark recess that might have once been used for storage. He dragged him into it, pressing his lanky frame into the tiny space as Faramir moaned in pain. Gríma cast a furtive look around the hall before withdrawing another vial from his bag.

Faramir could only moan as his throat was burned with Wormtongue's draught. The last thing he saw before the blackness overtook him was a fair-haired maiden, clothed all in white, save a golden braided rope around her waist. Her voice was soothing, entreating him to trust Gríma, his only saviour.

 

 


CHAPTER FOUR

 

The sun was still bright when the travellers neared the road to the Gates. The closer they came, the more intense was the cold fear in Aragorn's heart. He dreaded to think what they might find. He would not even consider the possibility that they might not find Faramir at all. They had to find him. There was so much Aragorn needed to tell him, so much that he only now realised.

They walked cautiously, aware that the Orcs and other foul creatures would be on the alert for intruders. As they made their way through a clump of fir trees, Rúmil halted suddenly.

"What is it?" Gimli asked.

"There is someone leaving the Gates. Is that your companion, Aragorn? He seems to be searching for someone!"

Aragorn pushed through the rough branches eagerly, and then stopped.

"No," he said slowly, as he watched the cloakless stranger wander down the mountain.

"But who can he be?" Gimli wondered aloud, "In Moria, where all fear to go but for the Enemy's minions?"

"The Enemy has many servants," Haldir reminded him. "Come, let us search for your friend and leave this place. I do not wish to encounter more of our foes!"

They moved quickly once they reached the road. Up ancient stone steps they climbed, through the Great Gates and into the large hall where the fellowship had last encountered the Orc guards. Aragorn shook his head, hearing Faramir's last cries, but now only their footsteps echoed in the empty chamber.

"Let us search this way," Aragorn said, trying to keep his voice steady as he entered the passage leading from the hall into the mines. A few shafts of light lit the way.

"How will we know where to look for him?" Rúmil murmured, staring down the passage.

A small recess stood just at the other end of the hall, and it occurred to Haldir that there could easily be an Orc or two hidden there, ready to spring on them unawares. Silencing the others with a wave, the elf moved forward silently. Clutching his knife in one hand, he cautiously peered into the little alcove. He saw a bundle of cloth stashed inside. Cloth or a clever Uruk? he wondered, taking a step closer.

The others joined him curiously, wondering what was taking him so long.

Haldir reached for the strange shape, with Rúmil at his side ready to defend his brother. Nothing happened. His hand landed on the bundle and he realised that it indeed covered a live creature, albeit not an Orc, and certainly not one who could move, much less attack them. He gently tugged the still form out from the cramped space and, with Rúmil's help, laid him on the floor of the hall.

"Faramir!" Aragorn exclaimed as the cloak fell away, revealing dark hair and a pale, bruised face. He rushed forward and knelt by the prone figure, reaching out to touch him so he could convince himself it was no illusion.

"He's alive," Aragorn said, breathing rapidly as relief flooded through him, and made to gather him in his arms.

"Careful," Haldir advised. "He is badly injured."

He looked curiously at the bundle that was the young man they had returned for. All he could see was matted black hair and handsome features, albeit marred by marks.

Aragorn carefully raised Faramir's limp body into his arms. A clunking sound rang out as the feet were dragged ahead.

"He's shackled," Rúmil gasped.

"Is he all right?" Gimli asked worriedly.

The cloak fell open, revealing the half-naked body underneath, the chains on his wrists and ankles. There was a collective gasp as the half-healed wounds on his torso were revealed. With deliberately calm movements, Aragorn lifted the cloak to examine Faramir's abused back. He shut his eyes and swallowed hard at what he saw. Whip marks ran crisscross from his shoulder to hips. Some of the welts were still streaked with blood. There were clear signs of claw marks all over his body, and in a few places, even bites. The filthy blanket still covered Faramir's lower body, a strangely incongruous sight. An uneasy silence fell over the group.

Shifting Faramir so as to not hurt him further, Aragorn slowly unwound the blanket and let out a strangled sound. The man's waist, hips, and buttocks were covered in scratches and finger-shaped bruises, a mix of black, blue and purple. An ugly gash ran down his inner thigh. It was healing but obviously painful.

But what induced Aragorn's cry were the flecks of blood standing out against the paleness of the young man's legs. There was no doubt in the minds of the horrified rescuers as to what the young man had been subjected to. Tears glistened in Aragorn's eyes as he cradled the naked form, battered and broken, the shackles around his wrists and ankles making him seem all the more pathetic.

Haldir stared unmoving for a few seconds. He felt extremely angry. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to hunt down the creatures that had used this man so foully. How Faramir had survived after three days in the clutches of Sauron's servants he could not imagine. He must have known the risks if he had voluntarily stayed at the rear, and yet he had done so for the sake of his companions. What little Haldir knew of men had always shown them to be weak and selfish creatures. Faramir, he could see, was the exception.

He gripped his bow tight and rose. Rúmil and Gimli stared up at him. The dwarf's face expressed sorrow and anger, and he wasn't surprised to see that even his brother was moved by Faramir's plight.

"We must leave," Haldir said. "It shall be dark soon, and we must be as far from the mines as we can before that. Faramir needs tending to. I think we will have to rest for a while tonight. He may not be able to withstand travelling for long periods."

He looked towards Aragorn as he concluded. Aragorn nodded dully, and slowly made to rise, still holding Faramir. Haldir stepped forward to help.

"The shackles," Gimli began, gripping the handle of his axe.

"When we halt for the night," Haldir suggested, as he took Faramir from Aragorn's arms.

Rúmil picked up the riding cloak but discarded the filthy blanket.

"It is not his cloak," Aragorn said firmly. He started to unclasp his own mantle, but Haldir stopped him.

"I have a spare cloak in my pack," he suggested, "It will be softer."

Once they had wrapped the unconscious man in the soft elven mantle, Aragorn once again took him in his arms. Haldir thought of protesting – Aragorn was obviously tired – but he didn't. Seeing the look of determination, coupled with the fierce love in the grey eyes, he resolved to take over only at Aragorn's request.


The rescue party did not stop until they were some distance from Moria. Already the sun dipped low, for their progress had been slow. Aragorn and Gimli were both tired. The man had stubbornly carried Faramir almost all the way, only relinquishing him to Haldir for the last half-mile or so.

It was obvious they could not carry on further, as tired as they all were, and Faramir's injuries desperately needed to be tended, so they stopped at a small dell that the seven companions had used three days earlier.

They laid Faramir facedown on a cloak. He had still not woken up, and that in itself was beginning to worry them. Gimli and Haldir set to work removing the shackles.

Rúmil gathered wood for a small fire while Aragorn rummaged through his pack for his healing herbs. Most of his athelas had been used up treating the others, but he had some other herbs that would provide a little relief – very little though, he feared, for Faramir's injuries were extensive.

He picked up the herbs and knelt by Faramir, taking in the exposed wrists and ankles, reddened and scraped. Using a wet cloth, Haldir and he began cleaning Faramir's injuries. Then Aragorn made a paste from the herbs and they spread them over the worst of the wounds, while Rúmil and Gimli scrounged up some food from their packs.

"You were right," Haldir said suddenly breaking the silence they worked in.

Aragorn looked up puzzled as he spread the last of the paste on the jagged gash on Faramir's thigh.

"He is indeed very valiant. He obviously fought hard to stay alive."

Aragorn was about to respond, when a soft sound turned their attention towards their patient.

"He's waking!" Aragorn said in relief.

Faramir came awake, feeling cold and aching all over. He heard voices above him, one of which sounded very familiar. He realised he was lying naked on his stomach, with his legs splayed apart, and a hand resting on the tender wound in his inside thigh.

No! he screamed in his mind, and tried to struggle. Pain shot through his body as he moved, and he moaned loudly.

"Faramir!"

Hands came to rest on his hands and legs and he panicked. Ignoring the intense pain running up his lower back, he scrambled onto his knees, pushing away the restraining hands. There was something soft under him, he realised belatedly, as he edged away, pulling his knees to his chest.

Cool air hit his face. Cool, fresh air. He was outside! Surely, this was another vision! He moaned again. He could not endure more of this. He did not want to be told yet again to trust Gríma. The man always hurt him. He was dangerous, Faramir knew, and he wanted to take him to Saruman. A shadow fell over him and he raised his head to see someone in front of him.

"No!" he sobbed hoarsely, "I won't trust him. He'll hurt me! Leave me. Go away."

"Faramir!" the voice broke through his scattered thoughts, and he realised with a gasp who it was leaning over him.

"Aragorn!" he gasped, "No, not again! Please!" He edged further away, the pain of his movements turning his words into a squeal.

"Faramir, it is all right," Aragorn spoke as calmly as he could manage. "I am here now. You are safe."

"No, you lie! You're dead. Go away! Leave me be."

In his pain-riddled state Faramir could hear none of the concern and fear in Aragorn's voice. All he heard was the earlier denouncement of his weakness and failure. He had been responsible for Aragorn's death. He had let down Gondor by not saving its King. He sobbed louder – harsh, rasping sounds. This could not be Aragorn, and even if it was, Aragorn hated him. He was inept and unworthy and a coward.


Haldir had been overjoyed when he, like Aragorn, realised Faramir was awakening. Calling out to Rúmil to bring some water, he had helped Aragorn hold the young man down to prevent him from hurting himself. He was surprised to see Faramir react by struggling out of their grasp.

Aragorn reached for the young man, but Faramir slid away from him, shouting and sobbing all the while.

"No, Aragorn, you're scaring him," Haldir said urgently, as Aragorn tried to coax Faramir back.

The elf gracefully moved forward, and kneeling by the frantic figure, wrapped his long arms around him, pulling him close.

Faramir felt something soft wrapped around him. He raised his frightened eyes and took in the sight of a beautiful, fair face, pure and noble in mien.

"Hush, child, it is all right. You are well," a tender voice said in his ear. The very sound of that voice calmed him, its gentle tones soothing his frayed nerves.

"Help me, please!" he begged tearfully, collapsing against Haldir's chest from pain and exhaustion.

Haldir looked up to see the others standing around him. Gimli and Rúmil sported worried expressions, but Aragorn looked positively distraught.

"He was barely awake," he said soothingly. "He did not know you."

Aragorn stared at Faramir, unhappily swallowing the pain of rejection as Haldir gently wrapped the elven cloak around the Gondorian's shoulders and dropped a kiss on the dark head.


Gríma stalked back into the hall. "Damn horse," he muttered to himself. The foul smells of the Orcs had spooked it, and it would not come anywhere near the Gates. Hopefully the man could walk now, else he would have to be dragged some ways down the mountain.

He suddenly stopped when he saw the blanket and his cloak lying discarded on the ground. The man was not in sight.

"Damn Uruk-hai!" Gríma cursed aloud, the words echoing in the empty chamber as he sank to the floor. Now he must return to Isengard empty-handed. Lurtz had probably already sent news there, and Master would not be pleased that he had lost the prize.

 

 

 


CHAPTER FIVE

 

Faramir slept the rest of the way back, Haldir and Aragorn taking turns carrying him. Lost in his own thoughts, Aragorn remembered little of the journey. His relief at finding Faramir alive surprised even him. Deep in his heart, he had despaired of ever seeing the young captain again, although he would have never let that thought surface. As the man slept in his arms he held him close, listening to each breath, feeling each heartbeat through the soft elven cloak.

At the same time, Faramir's reaction to him was troubling. True, they had started their quest wary of each other, but before Moria they had begun to be friends. Aragorn had even hoped that that friendship would grow into something much more. The ranger found himself strongly attracted to the young man, and had begun to think that his feelings might be returned. Now Faramir was literally fleeing from his touch. A part of him felt very hurt, but another part noticed how frightened and fragile Faramir had seemed. Perhaps Haldir was right. Faramir might not have realised that he was among friends. Who knew what those terrible creatures had done to him?

The sun was setting as finally the rescue party reached Caras Galadhon, and Aragorn was invited to take counsel with the Lady. Reluctantly leaving Faramir in Haldir's hands, he and Gimli joined their other companions who had gathered around the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. It took him some while to tell them all that had occurred, and then longer to assure the others that Faramir was indeed alive, although injured, and that they could see him when he awoke.

It was several hours before Aragorn was able to search for Haldir. He found the elf in front of a small pavilion not unlike the larger one that he and the other companions had been given to share. Aragorn moved the curtain aside to see Faramir sleeping on his stomach upon the bed, a soft blanket pulled up to his neck. Aragorn could tell that the young man had been cleaned thoroughly; the ugly marks were now more visible in contrast with his pale skin. Aragorn sat down by his side and gently stroked the ashen cheek.

"He sleeps peacefully. The healers have left a draught for the pain," Haldir whispered, indicating a bowl nearby. "If you will stay with him a while, I shall go and find some clothes that may fit him."

Aragorn nodded, grateful for the opportunity to be alone with Faramir.

Haldir paused before he left. Then he turned back, his green eyes hard as steel. "The healers know something of the extent of his suffering." Very quietly, Haldir explained what they had discovered. It was as horrifying as Aragorn had dreaded and tears stung his eyes as his worst suspicions were confirmed. He felt sick to think that those foul creatures had toyed so with someone he loved, and abused him in such a terrible fashion.

"Oh, dear Faramir!" he cried out softly, when Haldir had gone, "I should never have left you!"

Taking Faramir's limp hand in his calloused one, he bent down and placed a soft kiss on his temple. He was pleasantly surprised to feel Faramir stirring under him.

Faramir awoke slowly, opening his eyes to the sight of Aragorn's face hovering over him. He blinked a few times, feeling somewhat disoriented. The pain had returned with awareness so he made no effort to move immediately. I was in Moria, he remembered, with that awful man. But this place looks different, and surely, this is Aragorn. But why was Aragorn holding his hand. And if this really was Aragorn, he couldn't be dead.

And then he remembered waking up outside. Aragorn had been there, along with someone else who had held him and comforted him. He stared at Aragorn quietly, unsure.

"Faramir," Aragorn said.

At the sound of that voice, Faramir snatched his hand away. It was so like the voice that he had heard denouncing him. This is another nightmare, he thought desperately, sitting up suddenly. Searing pain raced up his spine and he hissed audibly at the sensation. The blankets fell away, and he realised he was naked underneath, his wounds neatly bandaged. Then he looked at Aragorn again and, seeing the hurt expression on his face, fell back into despair. He had indeed failed, or else Aragorn would not look so.

Aragorn winced when Faramir pulled away from him. He could see the man was in obvious pain and was about to reach out and soothe him when Haldir returned to the room, holding some clothes in his hand.

"Oh, he's awake!" Haldir exclaimed, crossing to sit on the other side of Faramir's bed.

Aragorn watched in silent agony as Faramir promptly turned towards the elf.

"You're still here!" Faramir gasped out, his voice soft and raspy. He moved towards Haldir, pushing away the blankets and falling into Haldir's outstretched arms. "Wh – where am I?" he asked timidly. "I thought I was dreaming, but if you are here – I saw you earlier –"

"You are in Lórien, and I am Haldir, warden of the Lady Galadriel."

"In Lórien?" Faramir said in wonder, his voice still sounding hoarse, "B – but I was in Moria, and…" he trembled as unbidden images of his ordeal came back to him.

"Hush, you are safe now," Haldir said soothingly as he felt the young man tremble in his arms.

"But the others – the hobbits –" Faramir faltered, fearing for the fate of his companions.

"They are well. See, Aragorn is right here."

Faramir turned to look at Aragorn standing stiffly beside the bed.

"Oh! I – you're all right," he said feeling a little stupid, for he could think of nothing to say.

"Of course he is," Haldir assured him. "All your companions are."

"Th – they are?"

Faramir looked so doubtful at the statement that Aragorn was moved to sit down by his side. "Yes, they are," he said softly. "They are all here, and safe. All thanks to you."

Faramir could only stare at him in confusion. Aragorn felt his heart constrict as he saw that the man's earlier wariness still remained.

"They said you were lost –" he mumbled, "that you had fallen – that I let you down."

"But you didn't –" Aragorn started.

Faramir interrupted him," H –how did I get here?" He didn't understand. He had been inside that dark chamber with the Uruk-hai, and he knew that had been no dream. His aching body reminded him how real it was. And then that terrible pale man – and his mother, and Boromir, and even Aragorn.... Faramir shook his head to clear the confusion, remembering too late the pain that would cause. He closed his eyes as waves of pain racked his brain.

Aragorn noticed the tormented expression and ached to relieve his suffering. "We found you in Moria," Aragorn told him as gently as he could, "And we got you out as soon as we could."

"You returned?" he exclaimed as he realised what Aragorn meant. "You returned for me? To Moria?"

"I wanted to return sooner," Aragorn said, trying to fight back his tears. "Forgive me for not returning sooner!"

If I had reached you sooner, he thought miserably, you might not have suffered so much.

Why?" Faramir whispered in surprise.

Aragorn stared at him, the frail body sheltered in Haldir's arms. There was genuine confusion in the grey eyes. And suddenly the ranger did not know what to say. It seemed Faramir actually doubted that anyone, least of all Aragorn, would have returned for him.

*Does he really mistrust me so?* he thought despairingly as he searched in vain for an answer.

"We brought you out as soon as we found you," he said finally, skirting the question. "I was very worried for you, for what they might do to you –"

As his words broke off, Faramir suddenly remembered that he was naked under the blankets. He remembered Gríma had wrapped a cloak around him. Now there were bandages around all his wounds, and Haldir held him extremely carefully. Aragorn knows what has been done to me, he realised in horror. And Haldir does too, and probably everyone else as well. All of them knew now that the Uruk-hai and Gríma had used him as a whore, and not just once. Now they all knew that he was weak and craven.

He withdrew from Haldir's embrace a little too swiftly, his movement resulting in a small but heart-rending cry of pain.

"Don't move!" Haldir said worriedly, nevertheless letting the young man slip from his embrace.

"Do you need something for the pain?" Aragorn asked, reaching for the healers' bowl.

Faramir shook his head numbly, pulling the blankets closer around him, wishing to cover the signs of abuse.

"Is there anything you need?" Haldir asked gently. "I can have some food sent for you."

Faramir shook his head again, and shrank further into the covers, "My clothes," he murmured, and then remembered how they had been torn off his bare body before Lurtz had whipped him. He shut his eyes to wipe out the terrifying memory, but it was in vain.

"I brought you some clothes," Haldir said, "And a nightshirt as well. Would you like to put it on?"

Faramir nodded.

Aragorn rummaged among the clothes lying at the foot of the bed. He was glad to see that Haldir had eschewed the heavier velvet fabrics favoured by the Lórien elves, instead bringing a collection of garments in soft silks. He soon found the shimmering azure nightshirt and handed it to Faramir.

"Would you like me to help you dress?" he asked, seeing Faramir hesitate.

"No," Faramir replied quickly. "I – I am sorry, Aragorn, but I'm feeling a little tired."

"We will leave you to rest then," Haldir said getting up.

Faramir nodded gratefully.

"Are you sure you do not need anything else?" Aragorn asked once again, reluctant to leave. He wanted to stay by Faramir, but the younger man looked as though he did not want anyone at all around him. "I could stay if you like – should you wish to talk or – or – perhaps, would you like to see the others? Pippin asks about you." He knew Faramir was quite fond of Merry and Pippin, but the young man blanched at that.

"He needs rest, Aragorn," Haldir said firmly, a little annoyed by Aragorn's persistence. Surely, the man ought to be able to see that. He was supposed to have been trained as a healer by none other than Lord Elrond himself. There would be time enough for talk and noisy hobbit folk later. "We'll leave you to sleep awhile, child."

Aragorn stared at Haldir in annoyance and then turned back to Faramir. The young man was looking at Haldir reverently. "I should like that, thank you."

After he was sure they were gone, Faramir slowly pulled on the gown and curled up under the blankets miserably. He wasn't sure what to think. He had never expected to leave Moria alive; after Gríma had found him, he had thought he was destined for a worse fate in Isengard. But now he was in Lórien because Aragorn himself had brought him back. Aragorn had saved him!

But Aragorn came back for who I was before, Faramir reminded himself. He would never have returned if he had known the terrible things that they did to me – the terrible things I did! How can he even bear to look at me now?

Hugging the blankets tight against his broken body, Faramir slipped into an uneasy sleep.


Aragorn felt very irritated as he left the pavilion. He had sincerely wanted to care for Faramir, had in fact hoped that he could sit by his bedside through the night, but he could not bear to see the young man shy away from him. Not that he blamed him – he knew he might act like that until he had dealt with all that had happened to him – but he still hated to leave him alone. In a daze he returned to the pavilion he shared with the others. After washing up, Legolas persuaded him to indulge in a short rest.

Tired out by the multiple journeys he had made, Aragorn slept longer than he intended and the crescent moon was high in the sky when he awoke. When he returned hastily to Faramir's bedside, he found Haldir there already, a plate of uneaten food lying beside him. The elf was holding Faramir carefully in his arms, stroking his hair while singing softly to him. Faramir was mumbling something incoherently.

"He had a nightmare," Haldir said by way of explanation.

Aragorn sat quietly at the other side of the bed, his heart sinking as Faramir's words filtered through to his ears.

"Please – no," the young man kept sobbing over and over again, "It hurts -"

Aragorn's face went pale as he heard Faramir's anguished cries. Oh, my darling, why did I not come back for you sooner?


Faramir's horrific nightmares returned nearly every time he slept, and soon Haldir and Aragorn took turns watching over him, sometimes holding him as he slept, but usually just sitting beside his bed ready to comfort him when he awoke. On more than one occasion Aragorn tried to console him, only to be pushed away with anguished cries. He found it did no good to try to talk to Faramir when he was in this state. His voice seemed to send Faramir spiralling into greater depths of pain, it mattered not what he said. Instead he would murmur quietly in Elvish to him, the soft words calming Faramir's troubled mind.

The man's recovery was slow. He was unable to walk much without help and spent most of his time in his room, sleeping or simply lost in morose thought. Some days he allowed Aragorn to draw the curtains back to allow sunlight to stream in, but bright light seemed to bring his injuries into even starker relief and most of the time he preferred the shadowy glow of candlesticks, as though by hiding the marks he could for a brief while forget what he had been through. He remained withdrawn and quiet.

Haldir and Aragorn devoted themselves to tending his injuries, changing bandages and applying pastes daily, a painful ordeal that he bore stoically, but sometimes when he cleaned the wound in Faramir's inner thigh, Aragorn could see tears welling up in the younger man's eyes. Although he wanted nothing more than to gather the young man in his arms, kissing away his fears and anguish, he forced himself to be as clinical as possible when treating Faramir. The elf had recommended this approach, and considering the emotional trauma the Gondorian had endured, Aragorn had concurred.

Aragorn found himself concurring with much of the elf's counsel of late. The last time he had taken matters into his own hands had been disastrous. To lighten Faramir's heavy mood, Aragorn had tried to enliven him with a visit from the other members of the Fellowship.

Haldir, unaware of Aragorn's plans, had given him a pain draught so Faramir was sleeping deeply when they arrived. Pippin had rushed to his bedside to wake him up, but on seeing Faramir so ashen-faced, looking so much smaller and thinner, almost like a stranger, he had cried out in surprise.

Faramir nearly leapt out of bed at the sudden noise. It had taken a long while to calm him down and Aragorn could see that he was not only contrite about scaring Pippin but also ashamed of having cowered away from his friends. The rest of the visit had deteriorated rapidly. Gimli and Legolas had tried to be their usual selves, but that meant they had argued, and this seemed to make Faramir unwell. The hobbits were uncertain how to act, and so pretended that nothing had happened. Their boisterous tales failed to engage Faramir; he watched them silently, a wan expression on his face. Finally, in a halting voice, Faramir said he was tired, and they had quickly left. Aragorn had followed the others out, meeting the disapproving gaze of Haldir just outside the pavilion.

After they departed, Faramir fell into a fretful sleep, haunted by dreams of Uruk-hai, and blood, and his hobbit friends lying dead in the caverns of Moria.

 

 


CHAPTER SIX

 

For the past month Haldir had sat silently by Faramir's bedside each night, watching him sleep. He knew it surprised his brothers and fellow wardens that he spent so much time tending to Faramir. But they understood that, after his part in the man's rescue, he intended to complete the job he'd started. Faramir needed to heal, a slow and lengthy process. The Lady had assured Haldir he would heal when she had seen the young man shortly after his arrival.

The more time he spent around Faramir, the more impressed Haldir was with his innate qualities. Having survived such a gruesome attack by the Uruk-hai, and then suffering the pain from so many wounds so stoically, was a huge achievement. Faramir was a fine and noble young man, Haldir could see. The elf was also drawn to his diffidence that seemed much more Elvish than human. There was none of the boorishness that he associated with men. In their everyday encounters Faramir was unfailingly polite, his voice soft and gentle. If anything, he seemed too humble for his own good, always uncomplaining and deferential. The very attack, Haldir knew, would have done his confidence no good.

Haldir sighed softly as he watched Faramir's face, the tired lines somewhat softened in sleep. He should wake him and get him to eat something, he thought, but waking him suddenly did not prove wise, as Pippin had demonstrated. Haldir had arrived just in time to see the uncertainty and discomfort among the group, and had later gotten all the details of their encounter from Legolas. The days since had been tiring ones for the Gondorian. His nightmares had returned in full force since the walkers' visit. He woke up several times each night, crying out for his friends or his brother and father, and then would sob disconsolately before reverting to a fitful sleep, leaving the elf convinced that he surely needed more care and looking after. At least the healers allowed him to move around a little now. That had made him a little less morose.

Haldir ran a hand over the soft hair fondly, hoping that it would help rouse Faramir slowly. He really needed to get some food into him. He was thin and still quite pale. Haldir had seen enough of Faramir's body over these days to discern that, although on the smaller side, Faramir still had the look of a warrior, with the broad shoulders of an archer. The elf was committed to ensuring Faramir would once more look every inch the brave young warrior he once was. All it needed was time, much care, and love, all of which he was willing to provide. And especially, he realised with dawning clarity, love.

He had, he decided, become very fond of this brave young man.

"Dear, brave Faramir," he said softly, still stroking the raven hair as the man slept on.


Faramir lay still in bed. He'd been awake for a while, but it was so nice to feel the hand on his hair and he did not want it to stop.

He was no longer surprised to find the elf standing over him when he first woke up, but he could not help wondering why someone so fair as Haldir would fuss over him. Yet he found himself welcoming his attentions more and more. There was something so calming about him, something eternal and soothing. Others might consider him cold, or haughty, but Faramir could never see him that way. In his eyes, he was a saviour. He had saved him from the mines, from his nightmares. And sometimes, when Haldir was sitting beside him, Faramir felt whole again.

Faramir cracked his eyes just enough to see Haldir's distinctive profile. His beauty was breathtaking. His long hair shone in the morning sun, braided and pulled back in Elven fashion. It looked as soft as spun gold, and Faramir burned with the desire to touch it. He fought the urge, though. He was enjoying lingering over each of his features and wanted more time to observe the elf unawares. There was a tiny scar, long healed, marring the otherwise perfect skin on his cheek. Faramir wondered how he had gotten it. He studied the noble nose, his broad, untroubled forehead, the slight points on his ears. Suddenly an unbidden image flashed through Faramir's mind – he was kissing those ears, licking their entire length and tickling the tips with his tongue, as Haldir moaned ecstatically.

Faramir gasped. Haldir heard the strange sound and looked at him quizzically. "Good morning. Are you all right?"

Faramir could only nod in reply. He knew this was not the first time he had dreamed of kissing the elf. In dim dreams he had covered his entire body with kisses, and been kissed in return. Yet this was the first time that these thoughts had invaded his awake mind.

This could not be! Haldir was a march warden of Lórien, not some barmaid that he could entertain such lustful thoughts about. What a way to repay all of Haldir's tender care!

"Faramir, you look pale. What is it?" The elf's voice interrupted Faramir's thoughts, dragging him back to reality.

"I am fine. Just a dream, that's all," Faramir shrugged, grateful that he had such a convenient excuse. He looked at the elf with open eyes now.

"Are you sure? How do you feel?"

"Very well, Haldir. Did you sleep at all, or did you sit there watching me all night?"

"Elves need very little sleep," Haldir replied, sidestepping the question. "Now can I get you some breakfast?"

Faramir nodded again, grateful for the time alone to collect his thoughts. By the time Haldir returned, he had almost managed to convince himself that what had happened was indeed a dream, not the musings of his depraved mind.

Aragorn came by when he'd finished eating and Faramir found himself nodding shyly at the ranger in greeting. Haldir rose a little stiffly as the ranger entered the room, and immediately bade farewell. Aragorn did not seem to notice his absence. "How are you today, Faramir?" he asked gently.

"I am well," he replied, smiling a little at Aragorn's routine question.

"I have brought you some books from Lord Celeborn's library. I thought you might like to read awhile after you've had your walk."

Faramir took the books gratefully and then accepted Aragorn's arm as he very carefully helped him out of bed. The healers now allowed him to take small walks and indulge in light activity. It was slow and a little painful, but he endured it because it gave him something to do. Lying in bed all day, unable to even sit up without help, every muscle in his body protesting, had plunged him into a state of despair in which he questioned why he had even been saved. His thoughts had often turned to darkness – if not to what he had endured, then to what might happen to the quest now, and what might be happening in Minas Tirith, where his brother battled the forces of Mordor while he lay here helplessly.

But being able to move now made him feel much better and less depressed. He even felt lighter. He did not know whether the lightness he felt was due to the feel of cool air on his face, or the fresh smells of leaves and grass, or quite simply because Aragorn held his arm tightly and guided him very gently along the tiny path. He enjoyed these little walks greatly, but he'd have enjoyed them even more if they could have spoken more freely. He often had to rack his brain to come up with something to say, then Aragorn would answer. It was very unlike the spirited talks they had enjoyed earlier, before Moria.

He had truly appreciated the fact that they had started to become such good friends on the road from Rivendell. He'd been drawn to the older man in a way he had rarely felt. The more they spoke, the more they found they had in common. Both were scholars as well as warriors, and found many subjects of mutual interest to discuss. Aragorn had travelled through many lands, most of which Faramir had only ever heard of, and he thirsted to learn more of them. Aragorn had seemed to enjoy their conversations, and with the older man Faramir had discovered a degree of understanding that made him very happy.

He had that no more. Not for the first time, he cursed the Uruks for causing more than the physical hurt and trauma. He cursed them for ruining the wonderful bond that had been growing between him and Aragorn.

He despaired of ever finding that connection again. While Aragorn was solicitous towards him, always making sure that he had eaten enough, that he slept, even staying beside him during his worst nights, the bond that they had shared seemed to be lost. As the weeks stretched on, he and Aragorn were as much strangers as they had been on their first day in Rivendell. Yet he could not blame the ranger for rending that bond. How could someone as brave and noble as Aragorn want to even speak with one as cowardly as he?

He had let down the fellowship. He had heard how Aragorn had turned around without rest from the borders of Lórien itself. It was no small distance between the gates of Moria and the Golden Wood, yet Aragorn, and Gimli, too, had traversed that thrice in succession all because of him. They should have been resting here in Lórien, not running back to Moria to rescue him.

And now they were tarrying here too long, when there was so much at stake – for them, for Gondor, for the whole of Middle-earth. Aragorn said all of them needed rest, and the time to leave was not far. He knew he would have to get better by then, if he were to be of any use to the quest. But he could barely walk; much less use a weapon. It made him worry even more about why Aragorn might expend so much effort over him.

But even these troublesome thoughts could not keep the Gondorian from relishing Aragorn's attentions. Even lacking the bond that they had begun to forge, just being near him gave Faramir a deep sense of contentment. He often found himself sneaking peeks at the ranger when he wasn't watching. He liked to see the grave face, lost in thought, the deep grey eyes watching some unseen point. He liked the sound of the calm and soothing voice, his soft, gentle laugh. He quite simply liked the idea of being near Aragorn, he decided.

In the earliest stages of his recovery, still lost in dreams and the influence of Gríma's draught, Faramir had often shied away from Aragorn, unwilling to accept that his presence was real. Then he had avoided his eyes, not wanting to see in them the disgust and contempt that he felt for himself.

But when he finally met his gaze, he saw none of that. He had seen sadness and concern and, he thought, tenderness. As Aragorn cared for him over the weeks, he grew to depend on the man, and to trust him, until now he woke up each morning looking forward to his visits. Of course, he could never let him know this, or demand more of his time than he freely gave. Faramir had no intention of imposing on him more than he was already doing. And it would certainly do no good for Aragorn to learn how intensely he craved his visits. He could never admit that they were what he lived for.

Over the past few weeks, Faramir had begun to realise the extent of his feelings for the ranger. It scared him at first, to have such feelings for another man. As a soldier he knew men often lay together while out on the front. That none begrudged, for the warriors of Gondor led harsh lives, battling many foes, and in the thick of war what little comfort available was happily accepted. But this was not wartime, and they were not fellow men-in-arms. And to make matters worse, his feelings for Aragorn were something much stronger than these brief liaisons. Surely it was not right to have such strong feelings for another man, that too one who would be his king. This was not how the noble men of Gondor behaved!

He did not think Aragorn would appreciate such thoughts either. He had, very briefly, harboured a secret hope that he might share his feelings, especially when he learned how Aragorn had raced back to rescue him, and even later when he sat with him and looked after him. Sometimes the ranger would look at him with such tenderness that he had really wondered, and even dared to hope. But Aragorn never said anything. When Faramir caught him staring at him and asked if anything were the matter, the older man would only shake his head, smile sadly, and say it was nothing.

He wished he could drive that sadness away, that he could bring the smile back to Aragorn's face. Suddenly a second unbidden image came to him. He was pushing the stray locks of hair off the ranger's face as he kissed him lightly on his lips. When he moved to rub his cheek against the bristly hairs of the other man's beard, Aragorn wrapped his arms around his body and held him close. He leaned his head against the older man's chest and listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart while Aragorn stroked his hair and dropped light kisses on his head.

What is happening to me? Faramir thought as the image dissipated. First Haldir, now Aragorn? Not only did he not deserve their attentions, but now he was abusing their friendship. Faramir chewed his lip in confusion.

Lost in his thoughts, Faramir did not notice Aragorn watching him closely. They walked back to his room in silence, and Aragorn helped him back to bed.

"Haldir will be here soon with your noon meal," Aragorn told him, as he pulled the covers up to tuck Faramir in. "Would you like to read a book until then, or would you prefer to take a short nap?"

"A book," Faramir said promptly, and it seemed a ghost of a smile flickered on Aragorn's face.

"Which one would you like?" the ranger asked.

"I do not know," he confessed. "I have never seen any of these before, and – Oh! Is this an account of the Lay of Nimrodel?"

Aragorn smiled widely. Faramir looked so much livelier now, so like his old self as he thumbed through the books that he had borrowed from Celeborn.

"Yes, it is," the ranger said. "And it is quite good. I read it during one of my earlier stays here."

"Oh!" Faramir said, and then after a pause continued, "Would – would you like to read it with me, Aragorn? Unless – you have some work – er – unless you would rather rest. I will understand," he added hastily.

"I have nothing to do now, save watch the hobbits eat!" he said cheerfully. "Why don't I read it aloud to you?"

To Faramir's surprise, the ranger nestled beside him in bed and began reading the ancient song of hope and great beauty. Faramir fell asleep about ten pages into the book, lulled by Aragorn's sweet voice and the scent of the forest from his tunic.


Faramir's head slipped onto Aragorn's shoulder as he slept, so close that the ranger could feel his breath on his neck. He quietly closed the book, marking the page where Faramir had fallen asleep, and placed it on the floor. Then he carefully shifted himself so that Faramir could lean against him more comfortably. Slipping one arm around the younger man's slender body, he very gently pulled him close, taking care not to wake him. Faramir needed all the rest he could get. He quietly stroked his arm in a soothing manner, and watched his face, so peaceful in sleep.

"I am so glad we could find you," he whispered softly. "I knew we would. Yet, I wish we had reached you sooner, so you might have been spared this."

He closed his eyes as he remembered how Faramir had looked when they had found him, his battered body under the blanket. He recalled the despair he had felt in Moria, when he first saw the extent of his bruises and gashes, and later how it had pained him to see the grimace of agony on the unhappy face when Faramir first tried to walk. He also thought of the Faramir he knew earlier, the smiling young man who had countless times pleaded for tales of far-off lands. He looked so different now, pale and gaunt. And yet, Aragorn felt no lessening of his love. In fact, with his rapid recovery after his ordeal, he now appreciated his courage and his fighting spirit even more.

"My dear, brave one," he whispered as he kissed Faramir lightly on the head. "I hope you get better soon. I worry so for you. I really need you by my side."

He really did. He loved Faramir so much! He wanted nothing more than to hold him in his arms, to look after him and ensure that he was never hurt again. He unconsciously tightened his hold around Faramir, and stroked his cheek softly with the other hand. His fingers traced their way down to his jaw and over his neck, then he stopped himself.

How badly he wanted to touch Faramir all over, to kiss his worries away! But he could do no such thing. Only recently had Faramir stopped shying away from him. He still seemed wary of physical contact and often shrank back if things became too noisy. Aragorn could not possibly abuse that trust by forcing himself too close. And in all likelihood he would never be able to get as close as he desired. No matter what Aragorn felt for him, after Moria, Faramir would be looking to anyone but men for company!

Sighing, he continued to hold Faramir close, breathing in the scent of his soft hair, until Haldir arrived with his noon meal.

 

 


CHAPTER SEVEN

 

The sun was just creeping above the eastern horizon when Aragorn awoke. He stretched his arms over his head, gazing around at the beds that held his companions. Legolas was gone – the elf had probably been up for hours – but the others were sleeping peacefully. A smile flickered across his face as he enjoyed the moment of tranquillity before forcing his mind to more serious things.

The last two weeks had passed quickly. Faramir was growing stronger every day, and Aragorn even thought he saw signs that the young man was starting to open up to him more. They read together every day, and after reading the Lay of Nimrodel together it had become something of a habit for them to crawl into bed to read. It was all very innocent, and at the same time intoxicating. They were always clothed, separated by bedcovers, but Aragorn thrilled at the touch of the other man's body running the full length of his. He often fought his urge to hold him closer, forcing himself to concentrate on his reading. Faramir often interrupted their reading to question intriguing passages, and it was embarrassing when he couldn't answer because his thoughts had strayed to the heat of the young man's arm, to a wisp of his dark hair.

Still his recovery was not complete. His nightmares still came – less frequently, to be sure, but when they did Faramir still turned to Haldir for comfort. Strangely, as Faramir grew physically stronger, the elf was becoming more concerned about the emotional trauma he had suffered. He seemed to be increasingly protective too. Aragorn recalled the cold glare he'd recently received when Haldir had interrupted their reading. In a very disapproving tone he had been reminded that Faramir needed his rest, and that he was only delaying his progress. For some reason he had even felt guilty for a few moments, until these feelings turned to anger at the elf's possessiveness.

Aragorn shook his head to clear away these jealous thoughts. The important thing was that he be there for Faramir as much as he could. And that meant he needed to pull himself out of bed. He dressed soundlessly and raced up the steps towards Faramir's pavilion. Just as he'd suspected, Haldir was already there. The man was sound asleep, the elf solemnly gazing down at him with a gentle smile.

Standing in the open doorway, Aragorn called out softly, "Good morning, Haldir. How is my Faramir doing today?"

The possessive question did not escape the elf's awareness, and a shadow flickered across his emerald eyes. "Our patient has not yet awoken. I hope that he will sleep a while longer. Shall I call you later to see him?"

Aragorn bristled at this dismissal. Haldir seemed to be increasingly protective of Faramir, even to the point of restricting his access to him. Still, the elf was probably right. The young man did need to sleep, especially peacefully like this, undisturbed by his nightmares. "Very well, then," he replied. "I will return after breakfast."

The ranger braced his shoulders as he walked away, unwilling to reveal any sign of his discomfort to the elf. He need not have bothered. As soon as Aragorn turned to leave, Haldir returned to the patient's bedside, seeing nothing but the peaceful sleeping face encircled by soft wisps of dark hair.


Legolas had noticed Aragorn's increasing unrest, but had been unable to find the right time to approach him. Seeing him standing alone by the fountain, before the hobbits woke up and demanded his attention, he decided there was no better time.

"You seem troubled of late, friend. Do you care to talk about it?"

Aragorn sighed. "Are my feelings that obvious?"

"No, but you could never hide them from me. Nor must you. Perhaps I can help with your burden," Legolas said gently.

"Nay, there is little you can do. It is Faramir. I fear for his recovery."

"Faramir's body is mending quickly. Just yesterday he walked all the way to the Celebrant and back with the hobbits. In a few more weeks he should be fit for travel."

"He still has nightmares –"

Legolas interrupted, "And they are lessening. You know that his mind will take longer to heal. We cannot begin to imagine the horrors he must have faced in Moria."

"I know he needs time to recover fully. But when I am with him, I can tell he is holding something back. I can still sense a darkness in his heart."

"That is to be expected. Healing is not a straightforward process. Even the elves do not fully understand its intricacies."

Aragorn snorted at that. "Haldir certainly seems to believe he has mastered it."

Legolas regarded his friend in silence for a moment. Then he asked, "Is Haldir the real problem here, rather than Faramir?"

"He won't even let me in to see him!" Aragorn said angrily. "The guardian of Lórien has become the guardian of Faramir's bedchamber, and I must supplicate myself to even catch a glimpse of him."

"Haldir is doing what he thinks best for Faramir, you know that."

"Yes, I do know that. And in my heart I do appreciate it. Frankly I am surprised that he is so concerned for a mortal man, as he seems to hold us in contempt so much of the time. But how is he so sure that what he does is best? I am a man, and I do know something of healing myself. That alone should give me some say in what is best for Faramir."

Aragorn shook his head at this. "Listen to me, Legolas. I sound like a petulant child, whining because I do not get my way. But I cannot help myself. My heart aches to be with him. There is so much I need to say to him, so much that I want to do for him, and yet I am barred from his door."

"Perhaps you would have me speak with Haldir?" Legolas proffered.

"Nay, Legolas, there is no need for that," Aragorn said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Haldir always speaks of patience as the key to healing. I will try to respect that for now."

At that moment Rúmil approached the fountain, bowing as he reached the two friends. "The Lady requests your company," he said to Aragorn. "She has something that she wishes you to see concerning your journey."

"I will come with you," said Legolas.

"No, that is not the Lady's wish," Rúmil said firmly. "Her words are for the leader of the fellowship alone."

"I am sorry you cannot join me, my friend," Aragorn said, clasping Legolas' hand in his own. "I knew the day would come when the Lady would call me to her, and I both welcome and dread her words. I would have you by my side, but as that is not the Lady's wish, I would have you do something else for me."

"I will do whatever you ask me to do."

"I told Haldir I would return to watch over Faramir after breakfast. Will you visit with him today in my stead?" A pained expression crossed Aragorn's face as he realised that Faramir might think he had deserted him again.

Legolas squeezed Aragorn's hand tightly. "I am happy to do that, Aragorn. Do not worry for Faramir. I will explain what has happened."

"Thank you," Aragorn said. He turned to Rúmil and said, "I am ready."


Rúmil led him toward the wall of Caras Galadhon, finally stopping at an enclosed garden where the Lady Galadriel waited. She wore a shimmering gown of white, her golden hair resplendent as it cascaded down onto her shoulders. Aragorn drew himself up to his full height as he approached so he could meet her eyes.

"Hiril nín," he said, bowing his head.

The Lady bowed in return, but spoke not a word as she beckoned to him to follow. She led him soundlessly through the garden to a staircase that wound down into a darkened hollow. The morning sun was veiled from this place, and the air was very still. In the shadows Aragorn could make out a glistening silver basin sitting atop a low pedestal. With infinite grace, the Lady filled a pitcher with water from the stream that ran through the hollow, and then poured it into the basin. She waited silently until the water was still.

Aragorn quivered involuntarily at the power he sensed. Noticing his movement, the Lady held out her hand and guided him to stand beside the basin. Her touch was cool, and her sonorous voice when she spoke filled the hollow.

"This is the Mirror of Galadriel. It will show you what you desire, and that which you do not. Would you look into it?"

Aragorn stepped towards the mirror but did not look down. "There is much that I want to know, but just knowing is not enough. Will the mirror help me change these paths?"

The Lady smiled soberly. "The mirror reveals things that already were, or things that will be, but only you can decide what to do with what you see. Many are content to not look upon these things, for their thoughts are not then haunted. Others must look, hoping that what they see will help show the paths they must take. It is a terrible power, yes. The mirror may guide your actions, but it may bewitch you and prevent you from doing what you must do. In this I cannot counsel you. As the heir of Isildur, I can only offer you the choice to see if you will."

Aragorn weighed her words, already knowing that he could not withstand the temptation of the mirror. He took a deep breath and lowered his eyes towards the mirror. He gasped as the dark surface suddenly flashed, revealing a burning village, people and animals fleeing from hordes of invaders, silently screaming through the glistening water.


Faramir was just finishing breakfast when Legolas arrived. He greeted him with a shy smile,looking behind him for Aragorn. When he saw that the elf was alone, a confused expression crossed his face. Legolas took some pleasure in seeing the man obviously searching for someone. Maybe his friend's attentions were not as unrequited as he thought.

"Good morning, Faramir," the elf said brightly. "How are you feeling today?"

"I am better, Legolas, thank you," Faramir said diffidently. Although he had grown accustomed to Haldir's ministrations, he was still not comfortable with others fussing over him.

"Aragorn is not coming today, Haldir. I will look after Faramir so you may rest," Legolas said, the firm tone in his voice brooking no objections.

"I will leave you then," Haldir said. "Is there anything I can get you, Faramir?"

The young man could only shake his head. Aragorn is not coming today. He replayed Legolas' words in his head, slowly taking in their meaning. After a long look, Haldir bowed and left the room.

"Would you like me to open the curtains?" Legolas said, already reaching for the heavy drapes. "It is a lovely day, it will do you good to feel the sun on your face."

Without waiting for an answer the elf circled the room, carefully tying back the draperies around the entire pavilion. A cool breeze swept through the room, scattering pale golden leaves onto Faramir's bed, but he paid them no heed. All he could think of was Aragorn, and what he had done to give offence. *I must have said something wrong,* Faramir thought to himself, scanning his memory for anything that might explain the man's absence. Nothing came to mind, but Faramir knew that meant nothing. He had never meant to offend his father either, yet somehow he had repeatedly managed to do so.

Finally Legolas finished his meticulous work with the curtains and settled himself in the chair beside Faramir's bed. He examined one of the leaves lying before him.

"I always longed to look upon the mallorn-trees of Lórien," Legolas said wistfully. "Alas that it is winter. Would that the quest could go quickly, and I could return to see them in the glory of spring, when the leaves fall and the forest is carpeted in gold."

Lost it his own thoughts, Faramir did not even hear the elf. Or it could just be that Aragorn is fed up with my weakness, he thought miserably. He had tried to push himself harder, to walk further each day, but he was still unable to steady a sword. And when he had begged to hold Rúmil's bow, he had been embarrassed to find he could not even draw back the taut bowstring. He would be less than useless if they continued the quest now, and Aragorn was probably tired of waiting for him.

The elf looked up from his meditations to see Faramir staring glumly out the window, and rebuked himself for forgetting Aragorn's message. The man sitting in bed looked so despondent. "He wanted to come and see you, Faramir," he said quietly.

"Where is he?" Faramir said in a small voice.

"The Lady called for him. She has news of our journey. Aragorn was very sorry that he could not see you before he left."

"This is much more important," Faramir said meekly.

"I am not certain that he thought so," Legolas suggested, his eyes twinkling as he saw a puzzled expression cross the young man's face. "But if the Lady beckons, he must go. Now, tell me your greatest wish and I will try to fulfil it in his stead."

Faramir bit his lip, thinking carefully before he answered. "I want to be strong, Legolas. Can you help me?"

"There are many ways to be strong, my dear friend, and you are already many of those," Legolas said gently. "But I know that you long to be the warrior you once were, and that will take time."

"Time again!" Faramir said with exasperation. We're running out of time! he thought to himself.

Then Legolas had a thought. "Perhaps I can help grant your wish after all. Until you are able to lift your sword again, you might learn to use our elven knives. They are lighter, but just as lethal in close combat. Would you like me to teach you?"

"Oh, yes, I would like that very much!" There was no longer any trace of despair in Faramir's voice, and Legolas was very glad that he had thought of this. He left to collect the weapons while Faramir dressed, and then they spent the rest of the afternoon sparring together. Legolas was right. The light knives were easier for him to handle, and Faramir's lithe body was well suited to the acrobatics of elvish combat. For the first time in weeks he felt his physical power returning and felt new confidence in his battle skills. It was dinnertime before Faramir realised that he had not thought of Moria all day.


The dark images in the mirror came mercilessly. The burning village was replaced with scenes of a stone fortress surrounded by legions of Uruk-hai, whose relentless assault breached the walls of the refuge. He saw people running and screaming, fleeing the Orcs vicious attacks. Legolas was shouting frantically for someone, but no one came. He could not see Gimli anywhere. The next vision was of Merry, dressed in a strange riding outfit and lying very still, a dead Uruk stretched across his tiny body. A horrifying winged wraith flashed through the mirror, and Aragorn flinched reflexively. Pippin stood in the wake of the creature, tears streaming down his face as he knelt beside a dead white tree.

Next he saw himself and Faramir in a strange, still valley. He seemed to be blowing a silver horn, summoning a host of spirits who rushed at the two men, their incorporeal bodies brandishing ghostly swords that he knew their own weapons could not defeat. The mirror flashed and now he saw Frodo and Sam clinging helplessly to each other on a rocky crag, their tiny bodies the only life in a river of fire that threatened to engulf them at any moment.

These scenes were suddenly replaced by darkness, in which Aragorn saw a full moon. The moonlight cast a peaceful glow on an ancient mallorn-tree, under which he saw two bare figures lying together in a loving embrace. After so many scenes of destruction Aragorn welcomed this serenity, and fought to bring it into sharper focus. His mind reeled when he saw Haldir embracing Faramir, kissing each other passionately. Faramir's hands held the sides of the elf's face as if drawing him deeper into his kiss. Haldir's arms encircled Faramir's waist, tracing the newly healed scars that Aragorn could still see on his hips. As he watched, Haldir extricated himself from the young man's grasp and began to work his way down his body, gently grazing his neck, then moving lower to tease his nipples with his tongue. The image faded until Aragorn could only see the rapture in Faramir's face, and then that too was gone. The mirror's surface was once again still.

Aragorn finally tore himself away from the mirror, his knees threatening to give way. It took him a moment to get his bearings, and he was surprised at first to see the Lady standing there. "Do you know what it is that I saw?" he asked.

Galadriel shook her head. "I can only see flashes of it, but I can tell that it has greatly troubled you. Remember that what you have seen may not yet have come to pass. Your actions may still change this course."

"There were terrible things, many enemies, more than I had ever imagined."

"Yes, I share those dreams."

"How can we ever hope to stand against them?"

Galadriel smiled gently at him as she replied in Elvish, "There is a reason that you are called Estel. Your destiny is intertwined with that of the elves, and with the hope of Middle-earth. There is much that you will be called upon to do before the end, much that saddens you, but also much that will make your heart light."

"We must leave here immediately," Aragorn said, his last vision still burning in his mind.

"Indeed, the fellowship must leave soon," Galadriel agreed. "Your journey leads far beyond Lórien. But some of your party are not yet ready for that journey." "Faramir is much better. He will be able to travel very soon."

"It is not Faramir I speak of, Aragorn. Those who care for the injured man need healing as well."

The Lady would say no more, only smiling enigmatically as she departed. Aragorn's thoughts were indeed troubled and he took his time returning to Caras Galadhon. Over and over he replayed the mirror's images in his mind. There was death and destruction there, he knew, and little room for hope. The only happiness foretold was Faramir in the arms of another, and that brought Aragorn a pain that threatened to overwhelm him.

They had to leave soon, he knew that. Legolas was right in saying that Faramir needed two more weeks to heal fully. They could spare that much time. Not that he could see how their small company could hold back the waves of evil that the mirror had revealed. No, Aragorn, you will not think of that, he chided himself. *Nothing good can come out of that line of thought. We were there, we were all there.*

Two weeks would give him sufficient time to study the elves' maps and plot their course into Mordor. It will also give Haldir more time with Faramir, he thought grimly.

Hard as he tried, Aragorn could not wipe the image of Faramir's ecstasy from his mind. It was an image that he had long desired to see on the young man's face, but it was one that he had hoped to be the cause of. Haldir could not be attracted to Faramir, could he? Aragorn had to know.

By the time Aragorn made it back to the City of the Trees, it was already dark. He stopped by Faramir's room first, and was surprised to find it empty. Aragorn's heart almost stopped. Is he with Haldir?

Aragorn looked towards the next tree and saw candlelight flickering in Haldir's own pavilion. The guard's house was nearer the bottom of a mallorn-tree, allowing him to exit more quickly. It also made it easier for him to hear sounds from the outside, so Aragorn crept quietly up the few stairs to his doorway. He desperately wanted to look inside, but was equally frightened of what he might find. This is ridiculous, he thought to himself. You're acting like a love-struck maiden. Besides, he reminded himself, the image was under a mallorn-tree, not indoors.

Bracing himself with these thoughts, he silently drew back the curtain in the doorway. Haldir was standing alone, gazing out the open window at the other end of the room. Something about his bearing looked very sad, Aragorn realised, and his heart softened somewhat.

*Well, there is no time like the present,* he thought to himself. Aloud he said, "You love him, don't you?"

Haldir whirled around swiftly. It was rare indeed that someone was able to surprise him, but he had been lost in his thoughts. Thoughts of Faramir, as always. When he saw Aragorn standing there, he grimaced.

"It is not so simple as that," he sighed. "There are things that you will never understand about elves, despite living among us for so many of your mortal years."

"I do not accept that love is something that can only be understood by elves," Aragorn replied with as much dignity as he could muster. All the way back to Caras Galadhon he had resolved that he would not lose his temper with Haldir, he just needed to know where things stood. But the elf's self-assured attitude had never bothered him more than now. His next words made the situation worse.

"Your lives are so short, you want to rush everything," Haldir countered. "You never allow yourself time to think about the consequences of your actions. This was never more true than now. Yes, I love Faramir, and I desire him with all my being." Haldir drew his breath in sharply. He had not expected to speak so freely, yet saying the words he felt liberated. "You say you love him, too, yet you don't want him to heal."

"Who are you to question my love? You are an elf! Not only that, but you are a warden of Lórien. You have met few men, and you have never allowed yourself to befriend any of them. What would you know of how mortals heal – of how they love?"

"I can say only that I have learned something of it in the past few weeks. And I know that only time will bring him any lasting peace."

"I cannot see why Faramir's peace should concern you so much," Aragorn said testily.


Faramir had just enjoyed one of the best dinners he'd had in ages. All of the travellers were there, save Aragorn who was apparently still with the Lady, and at first Faramir had found himself grateful for his absence. Aragorn's physical presence had troubled him much of late. Tonight his unused muscles were sore but he was well pleased with his first knife instruction, and he looked forward to just relaxing with his friends.

All his recent trepidation dissipated as he listened to the carefree chatter of the hobbits and the gentle banter of Gimli and Legolas. He found himself laughing heartily more than once, and realised that part of him looked forward to their upcoming travels.

After dinner, they lounged on plush cushions around the fountain, enjoying many goblets of elven wine as Merry and Pippin entertained them with tales of a mushroom hunt with Orophin. Apparently his astute eyes had been no match for the hobbits' instinctual abilities to uncover hidden fungi. They cackled merrily as they mimicked the tall elf's ineffectual efforts to spot mushrooms from afar.

Legolas' valiant attempt to defend the honour of elves was tenderly rebuked by Gimli, and Faramir laughed to think just how far the dwarf and elf had come from their earlier bickering. When Gimli picked up a slice of pear and lovingly fed it to Legolas, the elf licking the stray juices off his fingers, Faramir realised just how far this really was.

Are they lovers? he wondered. His question was answered when Legolas caught his eye and smiled shyly. Feeling himself blush, Faramir quickly turned away. They are! He took a deep drink from his goblet as this thought registered.

The idea pleased him for some reason. He knew that it did not change his estimation of either one. He had been treated to a show of Legolas' skill earlier that day, and would never deign to question the elf's fighting abilities. And Gimli – since their first encounter in Rivendell, Faramir had been impressed with the stalwart dwarf. His courage in leading them through Khazad-Dûm, distraught as he must have been about his kinsmen's fate, was undeniable.

And yet his two friends had turned to each other for comfort. He watched as they whispered together, their teasing now revealed to him as love, and he saw how well matched they were. In a flash it made sense to him, and he realised how glad he was that they had been able to find each other.

Faramir thought of the visions that now came to him several times each day. Always he was making love to Aragorn or Haldir, and being loved in return. Their touches were so gentle, their kisses so sweet, and the feelings they caused were so real that they left Faramir aching with need afterwards. It was getting harder and harder to wipe these images from his mind. And he didn't want to. These feelings were unrequited, he was sure. For his kindness alone, Faramir would have loved him, but he knew the elf would never think of a mere man that way. His beauty was so far beyond anything Faramir had ever imagined.

It was even harder with Aragorn. When Faramir dreamed of the ranger, he felt his body completing the union that his mind had already begun. He knew he loved Aragorn – had known it since that first day in Rivendell when they met. Faramir felt that his entire life had led to that moment – nay, not just his life, but also the lives of his forefathers as far back as Húrin. He had pledged to serve the king then, and had meant it with all his heart. In the weeks since his feelings had grown ever stronger, tinged with a passion that he had fought to deny.

Could it be that these feelings are not wrong? Faramir wondered. At first he had thought the visions were signs of his depraved mind, remnants of what the Uruks and Gríma had done to him. But what he felt was entirely different than what had happened in Moria. There had been no love there; he had been used foully, against his will. The images he now saw were different. He was giving himself willingly, and taking what he needed in return.

His next thought was even more startling. Could it be that I do not have to deny my feelings? If Legolas and Gimli were indeed lovers, then maybe it wasn't unheard of for males to lie together in peacetime. If this were true, might his feelings also be accepted by Aragorn?

As he pondered these questions, he felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders. Suddenly he missed Aragorn's presence and decided to try to find him. He wasn't sure yet whether he would be able to share what he had discovered tonight, but he felt sorely in need of the man's company, even if he would only sit beside him for a little while.

Faramir felt strangely light as he bade the others goodnight and started towards the pavilion that the travellers shared. He was surprised to find Aragorn wasn't there. The Lady could not have kept him so late, he thought. Then, looking down from the treetop, he saw two figures in Haldir's room. Gleefully, he sped down the stairs toward it.

As he neared the low pavilion, Faramir heard his friends' raised voices behind the drawn curtain. He thought to turn around quickly, but hearing his own name drew him back. He paused and leaned close to the doorway.

"Haldir, you know that Faramir cannot stay here. We must continue the quest."

"He is not ready. He will be a liability, just as you believed he was when you first met."

Faramir gasped, but Aragorn's next words stopped his breath completely. "I admit that I did believe that. I hated Denethor for sending his younger son. I wondered why Boromir did not come, the warrior of Gondor that we all expected."

Tears welled up in Faramir's eyes. He had known in his heart that this was true. Aragorn did believe that he was unworthy. Self-loathing washed over him, and he missed the rest of Aragorn's words. Haldir's next words shook him back to attention. "He is even weaker now than when you left Rivendell. True, his body is healing, but his mind is still fragile. It takes time to recover from wounds such as those he has suffered."

"He does not have more time. None of us have any more time, not even the elves. The ring must be destroyed before Sauron's forces overwhelm us."

"And how will Faramir, as weak as he is, help you achieve this? He cannot even lift a sword!" Haldir asked. "What would you have me do? Leave Faramir here in your hands?" he heard Aragorn say disdainfully.

"It is true that his presence is somewhat disruptive to the guardianship of Lórien. Otherwise you would never have caught me unawares tonight," Haldir said ruefully.

Faramir could listen no more. Aragorn did not want him to go with him, and Haldir did not want him in Lórien. He was a liability to his friends no matter where he turned. Oh, what had made him think that he could help in this quest? Everyone could see his incompetence, and he could not blame anyone for wanting to discard him.

With tears streaming down his face, Faramir ran out into the moonlit night, hoping against hope that he could be engulfed in blackness once again.


Hiril nín = my lady

 

 


CHAPTER EIGHT

 

Haldir and Aragorn continued to argue, unaware that the subject of their discussion had fled in dismay.

"What would you have me do? Leave Faramir here in your hands?" Aragorn asked.

"It is true that his presence is disruptive to the guardianship of Lórien. Otherwise you would never have caught me unawares tonight. And there is talk that I have become soft-hearted, devoting so much time to a mortal. But I cannot help myself," he sighed. "Yes, I would have him stay here, at least until he is fully recovered."

"He is a man, Haldir, not an elf that can withdraw from the world for years. He will only get better when he turns his mind to other things like our journey."

"And how will Faramir, weak as he is, help you in this?" Haldir asked again.

"He has a part to play. And if nothing else, it will help him."

"No, Aragorn, if you were honest with yourself you would know that it is not Faramir you are thinking of. It is yourself." The elf's words came out more strongly than he intended, but he could not restrain himself. The ranger loved Faramir, of that he was certain, but he suspected that part of his love grew out of his pride – from his need to watch over all those in his company.

Haldir well knew about pride, and knew enough to realize that his own love of Faramir was inextricably tied to his own need to care for him. The challenge of healing his broken body and mind had become something he just had to do. He hated to admit that Faramir's recovery mattered almost as much to him as it did to the man himself.

"What do you mean by that?"

Haldir detected a note of warning in the man's voice, but he could not stop himself. "I know that you lost Gandalf," he said defiantly, "and you do not want to lose another of your friends." Aragorn felt the room spinning around him. Haldir had hit upon his greatest fear – the very one he had confronted in the Lady's mirror. The ring and all it meant were abstract ideas when compared to those who depended upon him – the hobbits, dear Legolas, loyal Gimli, and most of all Faramir. His legs threatened to give way, and he sank into a cushioned bench.

Aragorn's voice was very quiet when he answered. "I could not bear to lose Faramir. You are right about that. I love him too much for my own good. But you are wrong when you say that is the reason he must continue the quest. In fact, I fully expect to lose all of them, for that is what is foreseen."

Suddenly he realised why Aragorn had not come back that morning. "You have looked into the mirror of Galadriel," Haldir exclaimed. "I am sorry – I did not know –" The mirror's visions were always unsettling; in times like these, they bore very black tidings indeed.

"Yes, and I saw all my company in peril," Aragorn answered, despair in his voice. "You say that men do not consider the consequences of their actions. This is all I can think about now. Dark times are encroaching in every direction, and yet I have to pick a course to lead my friends. No way is safe – I lead them into danger no matter what I decide. Oh how I wish that it were not so!"

Haldir knew no words to soothe the man. He wanted to tell him that all would be well, but he could not in truth say this. He started to tell him that he could not choose his fate, but knew that the man would think him patronising. Finally he did the only thing he could – he sat beside him and put his long arms around his shoulders, drawing him close. He remembered holding Aragorn like this once before, when he had first been moved by the man's passion for his friend. Aragorn did not cry now, but he rested his head gratefully on Haldir's shoulder and drew a long breath.

A moment passed before he pulled himself from the elf's embrace. When he looked up, his eyes were clear.

"I apologize for burdening you with this, Haldir."

"No, Aragorn, it is I who should apologize. I did not realise what you had been through today. My mind is ever on Faramir, and I did not think of your other concerns. You have foreseen him continuing on the quest then?"

Aragorn was silent for a moment as a shadow crossed his face. Finally he answered, "I have seen us together battling an unbeatable foe."

Haldir winced. "I know not the details of your quest, nor would I hear them, but I feared that danger lay before you. I had hoped that he might be spared."

"As had I," Aragorn admitted. "But it is not to be. We must leave in two weeks."

Aragorn saw Haldir's face fall, and he truly felt sorry for the elf. Although they had disagreed about many things, he knew that Haldir's love for Faramir could not be found wanting. Should I tell him about the other vision? he wondered to himself. Would it ease Haldir's heart to know what Aragorn had seen? Or would it make it harder for him to let Faramir go? No, Aragorn finally decided, I will not tell him. The Lady's mirror is too fickle. I know not whether what I've seen will come to pass, or whether events may yet prevent it.

But he had to do something to relieve Haldir's despondency. Taking the elf's hand in his own, Aragorn said, "I love Faramir, even as you do. He sees me only as the king, but my feelings for him run much deeper. Be assured that I will never be reckless with his life. I will gladly give my own if, by doing so, it might save him." He squeezed his hand tighter. "And I promise you this, Haldir. If we somehow succeed in this journey, I will see to it that he returns to Lórien, at least for a time."

Haldir looked at the ranger gratefully. "You would do that for me?"

Aragorn smiled. "No, but I would do it for Faramir. Now I really must say goodnight. I am weary, and I would like to check on our patient before I sleep."

"Please do. He will be glad to see you," Haldir added. "Losto mae."

Just moments after Aragorn departed, Rúmil appeared at his door. "Excuse me, brother. I did not want to disturb you earlier, but Faramir has run away."

"What? Where did he go?"

"Orophin saw him running away from the City. He looked upset, so he followed him. He is headed towards Cerin Amroth."

Why would he go so far? Haldir thought as he grabbed his cloak. "Take me to him," he said aloud, then changed his mind. "No, Rúmil, first find Aragorn and tell him what's happened. I will go ahead."

The full moon lit the way for the elf's swift feet, and soon he neared the ancient mallorn that marked the halfway point between Caras Galadhon and Amroth's ancient mound. Suddenly he heard Orophin's low whistle calling to him. He found his brother waiting nearby, but he could not see the man anywhere.

"Faramir is here?" he asked. "Aye, brother, he is on the far side of the mallorn. I would have approached him, but he is very troubled."

"Do you know what happened?"

"Not really. I saw him outside your pavilion earlier and I thought he was going to enter. He never did, though, he just ran away a few minutes later."

*Had he heard them?* Haldir tried to think back to what might have upset the young man. It could not have been the talk of the travellers' fate. Faramir was a warrior, he would not have withered so easily. Was it his own admission of love? Was that what had driven the man into the night?

"I was not sure what to do," Orophin continued, "so I sent word to you."

"Thank you, brother," Haldir said. "You did the right thing. Now leave us please, I will look after Faramir now."

Drawing a deep breath, he approached the mallorn. The giant tree had stood since the early days of Lórien. Its mighty girth spanned the width of twenty men, and its pale golden leaves sparkled in the moonlight. The tree was revered by the elves, and Haldir could understand how Faramir might be drawn to it for solace. The young man was there slouched against its trunk, his back facing Haldir. It would do no good to surprise him, Haldir knew, so he gently spoke his name.

Faramir started and jerked his head around. "Haldir," he said, anger in his voice. "What do you want?"

"I was worried for you," the elf said gently, fighting the urge to take the young man in his arms. "What are you doing here?"

There was a long silence before Faramir replied, "Why did you save me? I didn't want you to."

The steely tone in the man's voice frightened Haldir, and he laid his hand on his shoulder. Faramir shrunk away from the touch. Haldir felt a pain deep inside, and knew it was how Aragorn had felt when Faramir had fled from him after Moria. "What's wrong, Faramir?" he asked quietly. "What have I done to anger you?"

"Why are you always fussing over me? I didn't ask you to."

"Faramir, please tell me what's wrong," Haldir pleaded.

"You should have left me in Moria," Faramir answered, his voice cold. "You should never have come back for me."

"What are you saying?"

"It was wrong of you and Aragorn to try to save me. I should have died there. I deserved to die, after those beasts used me." *Now I have become as depraved as they,* Faramir added to himself.

How could he ever have thought that Aragorn might accept his love? Even less that the elf might? For a few fleeting moments he had thought that his feelings might not be wrong, but now he knew them for what they were – as vile, debase nightmares every bit as hateful as those of Gríma Wormtongue. Under the guise of comfort these visions taunted him, forever reminding him that he could never fulfil his deepest desires.

"Now I am no good to anyone," he said bitterly.

The pain in his voice broke Haldir's heart. "Oh, dear heart," he said gently. "I cannot bear to hear you speak this way."

Faramir ignored the endearment. "If I hadn't been rescued, then you and Aragorn would not be arguing over who must take care of me."

*So that's what he overheard,* Haldir thought. No wonder he is upset. He knelt down beside Faramir and looked directly into his misty grey eyes. "We were arguing because we both want to keep you. Neither of us wants to let you go."

"It is not true," Faramir said, a single tear spilling onto his cheek. "I am weak. You both said so. And now I'm useless to you all."

"No, Faramir, you could never be useless. You are loved deeply, you have no idea how much." Haldir could not resist reaching out and taking Faramir into his arms. For a second he felt the man's body relax into his embrace, but then stiffen.

"No, you are trying to trick me," Faramir exclaimed, springing back out of Haldir's arms. "I heard you talking to Aragorn. I heard you say that I was disrupting the peace of Lórien."

"You heard me say you were disturbing my peace, Faramir," Haldir admitted sadly. "And that is true."

"Then I should leave. I don't want to be a burden to you. But I can't go with the others. I thought I could tonight, I thought –" Faramir's words trailed off as he remembered all that he had thought earlier during dinner.

"You could never be a burden, my dearest one." The elf reached out to wipe the lone tear from his cheek. "Aragorn and I were arguing about you, it is true. I would have you stay here longer to recover, but Aragorn has convinced me that you have a part yet to play in the quest. You will leave in a fortnight."

Faramir shook his head. "I would go anywhere with him, I love him so. I want to be with him, even if he does not share my feelings." He sighed before continuing in a miserable voice, "But Aragorn does not want me with him. He thinks me weak – he said he wished Boromir had come in my stead." Faramir closed his eyes as Aragorn's words echoed through his head. He thought his heart would break.

Haldir's heart was breaking too. He had to let Faramir know that Aragorn returned his love, but in doing so he knew he would forfeit his own claim. His love for Faramir was overwhelming, but he knew that the bond between the two men was even stronger. They shared hopes and dreams that the elf could never understand. If I truly desire Faramir's happiness, I must tell him, he thought.

Quietly Haldir said, "Then did you not hear what else he said? That ever since that first day he had found you to be the bravest and strongest man he'd ever met?"

"He did not say that!" Faramir looked doubtful, but there was a gleam in his eye that had not been there a moment before.

"Did you not hear him say that he loved you more and more with each passing day?"

"No, I don't believe you. Why would he say that?"

"Because it is true, Faramir. Your mind is noble and your heart is true. You are courageous and strong, whether you believe it or not. I see it, and Aragorn sees it. He wants you to continue the journey because he cannot live without you by his side." Nor can I, he thought grimly.

Faramir's face was full of confusion. "How can you say that, Haldir? How could you think that about me? I am nothing –"

"Never say that," Haldir interrupted him harshly. "You doubt yourself too much. You cannot see yourself as others do. It is up to Aragorn and me to show you how much you are loved. Isn't that right, Aragorn?" he said over his shoulder to the ranger he had heard approach a few moments before.

"Aragorn!" Faramir leapt to his feet in surprise.

Aragorn walked up to the distraught young man, throwing Haldir a grateful look as he moved away to make space for him.

Faramir looked up at him, his eyes suddenly brimming with tears.

"It's true," the ranger said immediately. "I do love you and I want you with me always."

Faramir's look changed to one of confused disbelief. He stared at Aragorn, and finally the tears he had been fighting to hold back fell.

"Oh love," Aragorn whispered holding out his arms and pulling Faramir into his embrace.

"You – you really want me beside you?" Faramir asked, his voice hoarse and muffled by Aragorn's chest.

"Of course, I do. Not just now during the quest, but always."

"But the quest – I – I'm slowing you down, and I cannot even fight!"

"Hush, love. You give us the strength to go on. It will all be fine, I promise!"

Faramir raised his face and glanced up at Aragorn, his grey eyes glistening, "Oh Aragorn! I never thought – I always – I do so love you!"

"I know. Now." Aragorn said. As he kissed him on his forehead he noticed Haldir slipping quietly away.

"Haldir!" he called out loudly, startling the elf as well as the young man in his arms.

Haldir turned back silently, not missing the confused look on Faramir's face.

"Haldir has something he wishes to tell you, Faramir."

"I do?" Haldir couldn't help saying. He looked at Aragorn quizzically, wondering what he was up to now.

"Yes, you do. Come on, tell him."

"What is it?" Faramir asked staring from Aragorn to Haldir.

"Tell him you love him," Aragorn said to the elf.

"What?" Faramir gasped, stiffening in Aragorn's arms.

"Oh yes, indeed, he does," Aragorn said smiling. "Haldir loves you dearly."

"But he's an elf!"

"Elves can fall in love," Haldir pointed out, the only words he'd managed to say since Aragorn's announcement.

"But you're so perfect," Faramir cried out, "And I'm – I'm – not! How – how could you love me?"

"You mean I'm not perfect?" Aragorn pouted, but no one heard him. Faramir disentangled himself from Aragorn's arms as Haldir walked back to him. He looked utterly bewildered.

"Like this," Haldir said in response to Faramir's plaintive question, and gently reaching out for his face, captured the soft lips in a gentle kiss.

Aragorn stared at them, and to his surprise, he felt not jealousy, but a strange lightness of heart. They exuded such an aura of healing love that he felt strangely blissful, and increasingly stirred. The sight of the fair, golden elf kissing the dark young man sent a shiver of excitement coursing through Aragorn's body. When Haldir finally released Faramir, Aragorn felt bereft at losing the lovely image.

"I am sorry. I should not have done that," Haldir said softly as Faramir gaped at him, his mouth still slightly open, the pink lips glistening. "But I had to show you that I do love you. Why would I not? You are brave, kind, and intelligent – what fool would not fall in love with you immediately? I will understand if you do not reciprocate my feelings, but I cannot let you ever think so little of yourself. I shall leave you two now."

Aragorn could not miss the adoring gaze that Faramir bestowed on Haldir when he was released. What he had feared was true – Faramir did love the elf. But suddenly he realised that he was no longer afraid of these feelings. Haldir turned to go, but Aragorn reached out his hand to stay him.

"No, do not leave," he said. "I think you will find Faramir has something to say too. But I fear that, like you, he may be unable to speak coherently. I think he wishes for you to stay. Am I right, Faramir?"

Faramir turned to him, tearing his gaze away from the elf, and Aragorn saw a multitude of emotions flit through the grey eyes. He nodded gently to reassure him. "We both love you, Faramir, and I know you love both of us."

He moved closer to the two and slipped his arms around Faramir from the back, so that the young man stood between man and elf, held in place, securely and protectively.

Faramir could barely speak. This was even more wonderful than his dreams.

"You – you really do? You really love me?" was all he kept saying.

Gently, Aragorn moved his hair away and kissed him on his neck, while Haldir kissed him along his brow.

"Oh!" Faramir gasped as both pairs of soft lips descended on him. He felt the heat pooling in his lower belly, but he no longer felt shame. No, he felt alive, and infinitely loved. Aragorn was nipping along his shoulder now, shifting the sleeve of his tunic downwards. Their hands held him securely between them, and he found himself leaning back against Aragorn.

Then Haldir gently turned him around so Aragorn could kiss his face. The ranger's lips met his, their tongues intertwining as they devoured each other's mouths. Faramir felt the tickle of Aragorn's beard against his own, contrasting with the smooth face of the elf as he nuzzled the back of his neck.

"That was nice," Faramir finally murmured after they had both kissed him sweetly and gently. "Don't stop there," he begged and it was obvious he spoke to both.

"What would you like us to do?" Aragorn urged softly. "I could keep kissing you forever."

"I think you should tell us what to do," Haldir said his eyes twinkling

"What I want to do?" Faramir said softly, "I – I want -" he bit his lip musingly. "I – I like what you were doing to me. I – I know how men make love to each other. And I know it can give great pleasure. But I do not know if I can – "

"No," Aragorn and Haldir said together, their voices soft and gentle.

"No," Aragorn repeated his voice still soft, "not yet."

"But there is much else we can do that is also very pleasurable," Haldir said immediately.

Faramir looked up at both of them, trust and love shining out of his eyes. "I should like to return that pleasure too."

They undressed, Aragorn and Haldir helping Faramir out of his clothes, bestowing small kisses as each part of his body was revealed. The full moon cast a soft glow on their bodies, on the fair, flawless skin of the elf, the more weathered skin of the two men. Faramir's scars looked like mere shadows in this light, and Aragorn and Haldir set to work kissing them away. The night was cool, so the three of them gathered close, Faramir in the middle, revelling in the heat of their bodies. Facing Faramir, Aragorn kissed his shoulder rubbing against him. Faramir gasped as the ranger's calloused hands touched his semi-erect length, sending a thrilling jolt through his lower body. He threw his head back, which Haldir standing behind him caught gently, turning his face sideways so they could kiss. Faramir moaned in pleasure as Haldir's tongue gently explored his mouth and stroked his hips slowly and sensually, even as Aragorn's shaft pressed against his stomach. He felt Haldir's erection poke against his hip, but it did not worry him. He trusted both of his lovers implicitly.

Faramir was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of awe. Here he was, being loved by the two people he had come to consider so important in his life. His entire being felt alive, an electrifying sensation racing through his veins. He felt loved and wanted.

He moaned louder as their contact became more frenzied, Aragorn stroking him faster, Haldir kissing him more deeply. He quickly came, emitting small, soft moans of pleasure. His legs felt weak and he almost collapsed. Fortunately he was braced between his two lovers, who caught him before he reached the ground.

After making sure that he was steady, Haldir laid their cloaks on the ground beneath the mallorn-tree and motioned for the two men to join him. "So much more comfortable," he said, stretching Faramir out between them. As they began kissing his arms, roaming up to his shoulders, and then onto his neck, Faramir felt himself harden again. Faramir reached out his hand to touch Haldir's face, drawing him to his lips for a deep kiss as Aragorn suckled the curve of his neck. The elf moved away and began working his way down Faramir's neck, and Faramir turned to kiss Aragorn in his stead. Their kiss was interrupted when Haldir's wet tongue brushed over his hardened nipples. Faramir's gasp caused Aragorn to pull back. When he did, he saw the rapturous face foretold in the Lady's mirror. Aragorn smiled broadly before resuming his passionate attack on the young man's lips.

The elf continued to work his way down his body. Faramir cried out softly as Haldir mouth descended on his erection. Wrapping one arm around Faramir's chest, Aragorn let his tongue explore the young man's mouth, smiling as Haldir's efforts induced tiny yelps of pleasure. Using his other hand, he gently stroked the line of Faramir's jaw, running his fingers through his soft beard. Faramir whined softly as Aragorn came up for air. His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily. The ranger looked down and saw Haldir working his mouth up Faramir's shaft, his lips encasing the hard flesh perfectly. He was working slowly but steadily, letting his tongue snake its way up first and then following with his lips.

Aragorn watched as he took Faramir's entire length in his mouth, and found himself echoing each little moan that came through Faramir's lips. The two lovers moulded perfectly in the moonlit night, in perfect symmetry. Aragorn did not want to stop the exquisite sounds of pleasure issuing from Faramir's mouth, so he ran his lips lightly along the outside of his ear. An even greater moan encouraged him to continue. With very delicate movements, he licked the ear with more urgency. Faramir seemed to tremble, so he pushed his tongue into the ear and lapped the tiny space even as the young man cried out lustily and spilled into Haldir's mouth.

As the elf lifted his head, Aragorn saw his own deep longing reflected in those green eyes. He reached out and pulled the elf toward him so that they faced each other, both on their knees. Aragorn drew Haldir's lips to his own, tasting Faramir's seed on his tongue. Haldir's body was rigid at first, but relaxed as Aragorn explored his mouth. A second later they both gasped as they felt Faramir's hands on their erections. They glanced towards their young lover and relaxed as they saw him smiling.

Faramir watched as his two lovers united in a deep, lingering kiss, the dark outline of Aragorn's beard in contrast to the pale smoothness of Haldir's perfect skin. He thought they looked extraordinarily beautiful with their arms wrapped around each other. Faramir stroked his hands along their rigid shafts, allowing his fingers to run up and down in tandem. He loved the feel of the thick, wet flesh hardening under his fingers. Haldir and Aragorn continued to kiss, moaning lightly into each other's mouths.

"Move closer," he whispered, and they did, Aragorn pulling Haldir to him so that the tips of their shafts brushed. Faramir watched in delight as that simple touch sent them into raptures, the kiss trailing off as they threw their heads back together. He stroked more vigorously now, grabbing both shafts in his hands and rubbing them together, inducing almost feral moans until they came together and collapsed back onto the cloaks.

Afterwards the three lay resting on the ground until the air turned chill around them.

"We should return to the City," Haldir said, rising to gather the random pieces of clothing that had been scattered around. Faramir started to get up to help him, but groaned and fell back onto his back.

Aragorn was immediately at his side. "Are you all right, love? Did we hurt you?"

Faramir reached out his hand to stroke Aragorn's beard. "It was Legolas," he said, grinning as a confused look crossed the ranger's face. "He was teaching me to use elven knives today. I'd forgotten how sore I was."

"We'll carry you back," Haldir assured him, pulling on his robe. Aragorn found his own tunic and carefully checked for stray leaves hidden in the cloth. One could never trust an elf, a dwarf, and four precocious hobbits to not guess what had happened, but he saw no reason to make it easier for them. Behind him Haldir was fussing over the younger man, helping him pull on his shirt. Aragorn turned to see Faramir smile and pull Haldir's face closer.

He watched as their kiss deepened, his lovers' beautiful combination of light and dark bringing a smile to his face. When he saw Faramir's eyes open, an adoring look filling his face, Aragorn suddenly realised that the loving grey eyes were looking directly at him.


Losto mae = sleep well.

 

 


CHAPTER NINE

 

The next two weeks passed quickly.

Haldir continued to sit with Faramir each night, sometimes beside his bed, but usually in it. Faramir was still awed that the beautiful elf desired him, but his confidence was growing – thanks to the help of both his friends. And Faramir discovered that the elf's ears were just as scintillating as his vision had given him to believe.

Aragorn still visited each morning, but Haldir no longer rushed away immediately. The three friends took pleasure in each other's company, well knowing that these days of peace would soon end.

Their afternoons were filled with preparations for the journey. Faramir practiced knives with Legolas daily, and became very skilled in their use. Although he would never be as fast as the elf, his lean, muscled body was perfectly suited to the weapon. He took turns sparring with Rúmil and Orophin as well, and the brothers readily admitted that he would make a formidable opponent.

Faramir also helped Aragorn and Celeborn chart their course. In addition to his rich store of maps, Celeborn's knowledge of the area was extensive. Faramir was especially thrilled with his tales of Fangorn Forest. He had heard tales of this mysterious wood in Minas Tirith, though Boromir had dismissed them as old wives' tales. Celeborn assured him that the old wives were right. Ancient tree shepherds had once roamed there, and might still. These creatures did not welcome strangers in their realm, and Faramir, although wishing to see them for himself, promised that they would take caution if they ventured into this strange land.

After consulting all the maps, they decided to follow the Great River, as it offered the fastest way south. Although Faramir was anxious to return to Gondor, he deferred to Aragorn's decision to ride the Anduin all the way to Emyn Muil. Celeborn warned them what to expect in Southern Mirkwood, and they felt well prepared to face the Orcs that now haunted the outskirts of Mordor.

Finally the eve of their journey arrived. The travellers feasted together with the Lord and Lady of Lórien, where they were each offered the chance to stay in the City of the Trees if their hearts so desired. Aragorn watched Faramir's face carefully as Galadriel silently questioned him. Although he knew the young man had every intention of continuing on their chosen path, a part of him did wonder if he was tempted to stay in this beautiful land. But Faramir's face was guileless. In it Aragorn saw only self-assurance and peace. Apparently the Lady saw the same, for she gave him a dazzling smile after she finished.

After the Lord and Lady retired, the travellers lingered for a while, reluctant to end their last night in Lórien. But when Merry and Pippin set out to toast each of the elves they had met so far on the journey, Faramir stretched his arms and yawned. "I regret that I cannot join you, as the elves well deserve our regard, but my bed calls to me and I will have to leave it far too early in the morning. Sleep well, my friends."

Aragorn smiled at the double meaning in his friend's speech. "Yes, we all have an early start in the morning," he agreed. "I will turn in as well. Do not keep all of Lórien up tonight, I would hate to wear out our welcome after so much hospitality."

As soon as they were outside, Aragorn pulled Faramir to him and kissed him passionately. When they finally stopped for air, Faramir smiled up at him, his eyes gleaming. "What was that for?" he asked.

"That was because your bed is calling, and I will miss you very much tonight."

"You aren't coming with me?" Aragorn was happy to hear a trace of disappointment in the young man's voice.

"No, I am not. I will have you with me every night after this one. Tonight Haldir has claimed you."

Faramir smiled at that. "Will you walk me home then?"

"Of course."

The men walked silently through the moonless night. When they arrived at Faramir's room, Aragorn took Faramir's head in his hands and kissed his forehead. "Good night, my love."

"Good night, Aragorn."


Haldir had not expected to be so nervous tonight. He kept telling himself that it was like any other night, but he knew that it wasn't true. It was his last night with Faramir, and he wanted it to be perfect.

He was glad that Aragorn had told him earlier that he would not be joining them tonight. He loved being with the ranger, but his heart truly belonged to Faramir. These last two weeks had only strengthened their love. Once he had overcome his awe of elves, and was finally convinced that Haldir was really interested, the man had begun to share little details of his life in Minas Tirith. He had talked of sneaking into his father's study to steal volumes of poetry that Denethor did not want him to read. He had spoken with excitement about the visits of Mithrandir, and then wept in Haldir's arms as he thought of the wizard's death. Mostly he talked of Boromir, of how his big brother had looked after him when their mother had died, practically bringing him up in the stone walls of the citadel. Listening to Faramir's worshipful words Haldir could almost picture the man, and he found himself believing that the warrior of Gondor might indeed hold back the forces of Mordor.

In turn Haldir had shared glimpses of his own two thousand years with Faramir. He found himself remembering things that he had long thought forgotten. He spoke of growing up in Lórien and the pranks that he and his brothers had played on the Lord and Lady when they were younger. He admitted his surprise when he was later chosen as a march warden. And he shared his past encounters with men, and they talked about why they had seemed arrogant and short-sighted.

Haldir realised that he had never opened himself up to anyone quite like this before. He was surrounded by elves who had known him for many centuries, and who never questioned who he was or what he liked. By contrast, Faramir was curious about everything. He never seemed to tire of hearing what he called history – what to the elf were just long-forgotten memories.

And now he was leaving. This thought saddened him deeply, but he had reconciled himself to it. This last fortnight had been filled with more life than he had known in many years.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard sounds outside the pavilion, and then Faramir entered. The man looked gorgeous. He was dressed in a rich garnet robe that complemented his dark colouring. His cheeks were flushed from his wine at dinner, and his lips were still bruised red from Aragorn's kisses. The elf could not imagine a more lovely sight.

Without a word, Haldir opened his arms and his lover rushed into his arms. Their lips found each other as a flurry of hands greedily pulled their bodies together. The imminent journey added an urgency to their meeting, and there seemed to be no time to waste. Faramir was already tugging Haldir's robe over his head, breaking their kiss for just an instant before attacking his lips again. Haldir started to do the same to him, but the motion threw him off balance and he fell on the bed, the man on top of him.

"Sorry about that," he said, feeling more than a little clumsy.

"I'm not," Faramir said boldly, pressing his hips suggestively against the elf. Haldir's eyes fell shut as the man's erection strained against the velvet robe, his own finding a delicious pressure against Faramir's stomach. They kissed again, Faramir's tongue probing deep inside the elf's mouth, as their bodies grinded against each other.

At last their kiss ended, and Faramir slid down to nibble on Haldir's neck. After a moment he murmured, "You are delicious – you taste of honey." Haldir's smile broadened as Faramir continued. "Now I want to taste all of you, my love."

He lowered himself to take Haldir's shaft into his mouth. It was too long for him to swallow, so he gripped the base in his hand and stroked it rhythmically as his head moved up and down. When he flicked the elf's throbbing blood vein with his tongue, shivers of delight raced through Haldir's body and he moaned. The moans increased as Faramir's other hand fondled his balls. He cried out his name incoherently, realising with satisfaction that his cries inspired Faramir to quicken his pace. At last he abandoned himself to the rising tide of pleasure, riding upon this indescribable feeling until the entire world seemed to disappear into ecstasy.

Faramir slid back onto the bed beside Haldir. "You taste delicious," he said, his husky voice almost making the elf stiffen again, "but I need you now."

Faramir was still wearing his robe, and his erection was straining painfully against the soft velvet. Haldir reached down and tugged at the bottom hem, then lifted the entire thing off his lover in a single flourish. As Faramir nestled back into the bed, the elf appraised his body appreciatively. His scars were fading and the muscles in his shoulders were becoming more defined. He was still pale, but not nearly as gaunt as he had been even a few weeks before. Most importantly, Haldir saw a peace in his eyes that had only surfaced recently. A peace, and something else – perhaps pure lust –

"Haldir, what are you doing?" The man's desperate voice interrupted his revelry.

"Just admiring my lover's body," he teased.

"Haldir, I am going to explode!"

The elf smiled devilishly. "I thought we might try something a little different tonight, if you feel adventurous."

"Haldir, this is hardly a time for games!"

"Oh, this is no game," the elf said, as he rolled onto his stomach and looked back into his lover's face. "I want to feel you inside me."

"You – you do?" Faramir asked, watching as Haldir's long fingers stroked his shapely buttocks sensuously. "I won't hurt you?"

"Not if we do it right. Would you like to try?"

"Oh, yes – I think so." He sounded eager, but still a little doubtful. Haldir knew this was a brave step for his lover. His violation in Moria had naturally made him anxious about certain things, and although Faramir had gladly accepted all the love that he and Aragorn offered, they had never gone this far before. Haldir hoped that if everything went well, this could help him further overcome his demons.

"Good. Then hand me that flask beside the bed." Faramir dutifully did as he was told, and was rewarded by the elf's fingers slathering silky oil along his entire length.

"Oh, that feels too good," Faramir moaned.

"It gets better, trust me," Haldir laughed.

"Oh, I do," the man said, looking meaningfully into the elf's eyes before reaching down to kiss his lips.

Then Haldir turned back over and rested on his hands and knees, moving his hips until they were right before Faramir's slick shaft. The man's hands on his hips guided him to the right spot, and he felt the pressure on his ring of muscle. It was tight and Faramir seemed hesitant to continue, but Haldir pushed back against him until he slid inside. He gasped as he was filled slowly but completely.

An animal-like moan erupted from Faramir. "Haldir," he heard him say, as he felt the warmth inside him disappear, only to reappear with the next thrust. He could only murmur Faramir's name in response as their pace increased. He felt himself struggling for breath, Faramir's hands on his hips urging him closer to release. Again he heard his name called, "Haldir," this time as a cry of ecstasy as Faramir exploded within him. The elf followed seconds later, Faramir's name on his lips, collapsing under the man as the world spun around them.

When Haldir was finally able to lift his head, Faramir's shining eyes were the first things he saw. He kissed the man gently and said, "That was incredible, Faramir."

"Was it really? I mean, I loved it, but – was it really good for you?"

Haldir smiled at the anxious tone in his lover's voice. He shifted to his side so he could face Faramir and stroke his arms. "That was truly wonderful, my darling one. It has been a very long time since I have felt so good." He looked into the man's face. "And how are you? Did you like that?"

"Oh, yes!" Faramir's radiant face confirmed his words. "I was afraid, you know –" his voice trailed off, and Haldir quickly reassured him.

"Yes, I know. But you do know that this is very different. I wanted you to do this – I wanted you desperately, my love, and have since we first met."

Faramir hugged him tightly. "Yes, I do know this is different. I did not imagine it could ever be this good." He thought for a moment before asking, "Do you think I will ever be able to let someone do this to me?"

"I do not know, my love," Haldir said softly, wrapping his arms around the young man. "If you want it, then I suppose you could. But only if you want it. No one will ever touch you again unless you want it."

Faramir smiled at that, and nuzzled against Haldir's smooth chest, absentmindedly fingering his nipple. Haldir felt himself begin to stir again but fought the urge, his caretaker instinct taking over. It was late, and the man had a long journey ahead of him tomorrow.

Aloud he said, "Let's get you under the covers. It is getting cold, and you need to get some rest."

"I will get into bed, but I have something for you before I go to sleep."

"For me?"

"Yes, something to remind you of me – so you don't forget about me when the next man stumbles into Lórien," Faramir teased.

"I don't know, I have a taste for men now, you know," the elf teased, taking a sharp bite out of the man's shoulder.

"So I've noticed," Faramir said, squirming away to extract a small wooden box from a pocket in his robe.

"What is it?" Haldir asked as Faramir handed it to him and scrambled under the blankets.

"Well, open it and see."

Haldir lifted the wooden lid. Nestled inside was an intricate carving of a city, many levels high, filled with tiny buildings, roads, and walls that wound up a steep hill. Right through the middle rose a sharp parapet like the keel of a ship. Atop this bastion rested a flat promenade before what looked like a beautiful palace. The single piece of wood from which it had been carved had been bleached and then polished to a high sheen so that the city seemed to sparkle in the flickering candlelight.

Haldir stared in wonder at the image in his hands. "What is it?" he finally asked again.

"This is my home, Minas Tirith."

"And you made this for me?"

"I carved it, yes," Faramir said humbly, "but Gimli made the box. He is much better at that than I am."

Haldir looked at the man in amazement. "Faramir, this is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

"No, Haldir, it's just a little thing –"

His words were drowned out by Haldir's lips and his repeated mumblings of "Thank you, thank you, my love, thank you."

When Haldir finally stopped kissing him, he said, "I have something for you too, Faramir." He placed Faramir's gift reverently beside the bed before retrieving a larger box, wrapped in a silken cloth, which lay on the table. "These are for you, my beloved. I know that you will find a good use for them."

Faramir opened the box and then looked up at Haldir, his eyes full of wonder. "Elven knives," he sighed. "Haldir, they are lovely."

Haldir watched as his lover caressed the fine leather handles, the Elvish words etched on the curved blade. "Yes, they are. They belonged to my father. He left them to me when he went across the sea."

"Haldir, I cannot accept these," Faramir exclaimed. "They are far too precious!"

"No, Faramir, you are what is precious. I want you to have them."

"But they are an heirloom – you should keep them yourself."

Haldir sighed. "Faramir, don't you understand, I have enough heirlooms. Everything around me is an heirloom! You came into my world and brought with you a freshness that I sorely needed. Your love renewed my world."

He brushed a lock of Faramir's dark hair behind his ear before continuing. "Faramir, you must take these. You must fight, and you must survive, for Aragorn has promised that you will come back to see me after you complete your quest. I hold him to that promise, and I give you these weapons to ensure your safety. Use them well, and hurry back to me."

Tears were shining in Faramir's eyes as he embraced Haldir. "Yes, yes, I will come back to you. I swear that I will come back."

Finally Haldir managed to coax Faramir to sleep. He sat by his bedside, watching the young man's breath rise and fall, as he held a tiny image of a white city and thought of this perfect night.

 

 


EPILOGUE: Minas Tirith, Midsummer's Eve 3019

 

The White City was abuzz with excitement – King Elessar's betrothed was arriving today, with a full complement of elves from Rivendell and Lórien. The Gondorians had seen many strange things of late, what with the appearance of Halflings and wizards, invading Oliphaunts and Haradrim, and the return of the king from exile. But this, the arrival of the Lady Arwen Evenstar, seemed to have eclipsed them all.

Or perhaps it was only that, after so many years at war and the death of so many, including the old Steward, a wedding was an especially joyous occasion – and a royal wedding even more so. Whatever the reason, everyone in Minas Tirith was eagerly looking forward to the festivities. The king had ordered feasts for every level of the city, with the best foods that could be found from Gondor and Rohan. Musicians had been hired to entertain the crowds and rumours abounded that Gandalf might treat the happy couple to a fireworks display. Old friends and relations had travelled from as far away as Dol Amroth, and even Rohan was represented by the lovely Princess Éowyn, who some suspected had won the heart of Steward Boromir. It promised to be a grand day for Gondor.

Inside a large room high in the citadel tower, two men were also preparing for the arrival of the bridal party.

"Ow, that hurts!"

"Stop fidgeting, Faramir. You're acting so nervous anyone would think you were getting married."

"Must you pull so hard? I'm not one of the horses in your stable."

"Fine, then greet Haldir with your tangled ranger hair," Aragorn said, tossing the brush onto the dressing table. "I'm sure he has done nothing special to look good for you today!"

"Do you think he has, Aragorn?" Faramir said dreamily. "It has been over three months since we left Lórien, he might care nothing for me anymore."

"Don't be absurd, my darling," Aragorn said, forgetting his exacerbation as he kissed the top of the raven head. "Once someone falls in love with you, I fear it is forever."

"You're a fine one to talk, getting married tomorrow," Faramir teased. "Haldir warned me of the fickleness of men."

In one swift motion the king lifted Faramir and tossed him on the bed. "I see I must remind you of the worth of men before you return to your elven lover," he said, falling on top of him and undoing the silver laces at the neck of Faramir's tunic. The young man playfully swatted his hands away, protesting half-heartedly as Aragorn's lips viciously attacked the curve of his neck.

A sudden knock on the door interrupted them, to their dismay. Aragorn sighed heavily as they got up from the bed. Faramir quickly redid his tunic as the king opened the door to one of the citadel guards. The guard bowed to him. "King Elessar, the wedding party has just reached Rammas Echor. They should arrive within the half-hour."

"Thank you, Falborn. Please bring them to the citadel. We will meet them outside the Great Hall."

The man bowed again and left. Aragorn met Faramir's eyes and smiled. "I see my lesson will have to wait until you return. And when will that be again? In two weeks? Three?"

Faramir returned his smile. "I promise to return by Yáviérë at the very latest. That's just three months away." Seeing the pained look in Aragorn's face, he quickly added, "And if you still intend to escort the hobbits home, you might enjoy some time in Lórien yourself. Besides, now is the best time for me to leave. I have few pressing duties, and I think that the Lady Arwen will want her husband to herself for a little while at least." "Yes," Aragorn admitted, "you are probably right. But please hurry back. Your brother would make a fine steward in wartime, but he leaves much to be desired in times of peace. Gondor needs you here with me."

"Oh, is it Gondor that needs me?" Faramir laughed, wrapping his arms around the king's waist and lifting his chin to kiss him. "Gondor will be quite happy with a Queen now, especially one as beautiful as the Lady Arwen."

"Can you honestly say you are not jealous at all?" Aragorn asked.

Faramir unwound himself from his lover's arms and sat down again at the dressing table, scrutinizing his appearance as he considered the question. Finally he admitted, "I do not feel threatened by your relationship, if that is what you ask, but I cannot say I am not envious of it. You have known each other for so long. Even when I first saw you together in Rivendell I envied your closeness. You seemed very comfortable with each other."

He looked closely at Aragorn's reflection in the mirror, and the older man nodded. "Yes, that is true. We fell in love so long ago, when I was very young. I always knew we would marry, and have children, and that I would grow old beside her." Aragorn moved to stand behind Faramir, resting his hands on his shoulders. "And in truth, I never thought to love another so much." He picked the brush back up and ran it – more gently this time – through his lover's dark hair.

Faramir watched the king in the mirror, smiling at his wrinkled brow as he battled a stubborn tangle. "And now what will you do with your lover once the queen arrives?" He knew the answer already, but he realized he needed to hear it again.

"I will force him to wear his hair short, for a start," Aragorn said with mock annoyance. Faramir giggled as he took the brush from him, and expertly untangled his thick black hair. "Then I will proclaim him my chief councillor, to advise me on all the urgent matters facing Gondor."

"And then?" Faramir asked expectantly.

"I will make him the Prince of Ithilien in reward for his valiant efforts during the war of the ring."

"Anything else?"

Faramir sounded very impatient now, and Aragorn decided to give him what he wanted. He leaned down and kissed him, gently biting his full bottom lip before saying, "And he will share my bed every night, and serve the King of Gondor in every possible way."

"Oh, yes!" Faramir's eyes were shining now.

"And I will command him to remain with me in Minas Tirith, and not allow him to run off to Lórien with a gorgeous elf," Aragorn added, as he stood up.

"Now who is jealous of whom?" laughed Faramir.

"It is not jealousy," Aragorn replied. "It is realistic. I am merely a king, how can I ever hope to compete with the warden of Lórien?"

"You will never have to compete, my love," Faramir said. He stood up and straightened the king's sable tunic as he talked. "You know that you are what I live for. I need you just like I need air to breathe. You are a part of me, part of my mind and my body. Not even Boromir, who I love more than my life, can compete with you for my affection." He paused as he pressed the soft velvet of the tunic into place, then stood back and cocked his head to one side to examine his work. Aragorn watched him with a bemused expression, but Faramir was too absorbed to notice.

Aragorn loved watching Faramir when he didn't know he was being observed. After leaving Lórien he had kept a close eye on Faramir, unwilling to let any further harm befall his lover. He had witnessed his fighting prowess at Amon Hen, where the fellowship was divided by an Orc attack, as well as in their battles at Helm's Deep and the Pelennor. He had been heartened by his courage as they ventured through the Paths of the Dead. In Edoras they had met Gríma Wormtongue, and he had seen the young man face his enemy with intelligence, calmness, and even compassion. Only Aragorn knew what this show of strength had cost him. As he comforted the weeping young man in his arms that night, Aragorn was reminded that his recovery was not yet complete. He vowed to do everything in his power to bring Faramir some peace, knowing that he would forfeit his own life if it would help this man he loved so dearly.

Once they were back in Minas Tirith, Aragorn had been concerned that Denethor's demise might prove a setback to Faramir's fragile emotions. Both brothers had been disconsolate at their father's death in the Battle of Pelennor, and he had found himself comforting Faramir more than once, but the younger man had finally rallied with his and Boromir's support.

Since the war ended there was no longer any need for this protectiveness, but by now watching Faramir had become second nature. Now he found himself relishing the tiny things that revealed more and more about this man he had come to love. His quarters were fastidiously neat, the only disarray in the books scattered wherever Faramir happened to be reading. He insisted on helping Aragorn select his attire for each public appearance, and the king soon discovered that he had an exquisite sense of style. He had insisted on the sable tunic today, claiming that it matched perfectly with the Lady Arwen's ebony hair and suggested a visual connection between them that Gondorians outside the citadel could see from afar. This attention to detail was just one of Faramir's endearing qualities. The king found his thinking fascinating, and realised he adored him more with each passing day.

When he was finally satisfied with the king's appearance, Faramir said softly, "Haldir can never come between you and me. The way I love him is different. I am still in awe of him, I think. He is so beautiful, so far above me that I still cannot believe he loves me."

"Of course he loves you, my darling," Aragorn said, as Faramir turned his attentions to his own tunic. Aragorn watched him with deep appreciation. If anything he had grown lovelier since they left Lórien. His deep blue robe set off his smoky eyes perfectly, and they shone like brilliant gems sparkling in the bright sun. His strength had fully returned now, and Aragorn could make out his sinewy muscles through the cloth. His lean build had filled out somewhat, and he had lost his former gaunt appearance.

"You can never see your own beauty, Faramir, nor will you believe how wonderful you are," Aragorn finally said, struck with the truth of his words. "So Haldir and I must keep proving to you that you are loved, even if that means I must share you with the elf."

Faramir blushed bright red now, and Aragorn yearned to savour those ruby lips once more, but their time was quickly running out. Instead he reached his hand out to stroke his cheek, and was rewarded when Faramir leaned into his hand and gently kissed his palm. Aragorn sighed and bestowed a quick kiss to Faramir's forehead as another knock sounded on the door. They smiled gently at each other and finally hurried out to meet their lovers.

THE END

 

 

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