Faramir Fiction Archive

A Steward’s Desire (NC-17)

27 February 2006 | 13627 words

Pairing: Aragorn/Faramir, Faramir/Éomer
Summary: Sometimes it’s hard to bottle up your feelings and to hide your desires.
Feedback: This is my first attempt at a fiction, so feedback would be highly appreciated. Send it to laurelote@hotmail.co.uk
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, they all belong to Tolkien, I’ve merely borrowed them.

A big thank you to Minx Kat for agreeing to be my beta reader, the help is much appreciated. :)

Chapter 1

For the third time that week, Faramir woke late. It was most unusual for him, as his nightmares often caused him broken sleep, and to awaken at the crack of dawn.

But gone now were the dark dreams which had haunted him for so long, of Boromir, fire and orcs. Yet they had been replaced with something he found almost as disturbing, for his dreams had turned to passion and desire. They had caused a longing which scared him. A longing which would never, could never, be satisfied. No, he must not dwell on those thoughts.

The dreams had started almost three weeks ago, although he suspected that the desire had stirred long before that. Not that he would ever admit that to himself, or to anyone else for that matter. In fact, he had felt a connection the first time he saw those soulful grey eyes in the Houses of Healing, looking down on him with a gaze of worry and concern.

He had long since recovered from those physical injuries and much had happened since. Six months ago Aragorn had been crowned king and had asked Faramir to be his Steward. It was a role which was no longer necessary, with a king on the throne, but Aragorn had felt it important to keep up traditions and not to change things too much. He had assigned Faramir with a number of duties, which he himself did not have the enough time to dedicate himself to. He relied on Faramir, knowing that he would always do what was best for Gondor.

Since Faramir had grown up in the White City, Aragorn often asked for his advice on various matters, for he was still not entirely sure on how things were done, or how things were perceived by the public. They had started spending evenings together, discussing the more important issues of the city, along with less significant things such as poetry and literature. It was well known by everyone that growing up; Faramir had spent more time with his nose in a book, than a sword in his hand.

It was these evenings together that had triggered his dreams, and now Faramir did not know what to do. He had been trying to act like normal but it was hard, and he did not trust himself. How he wanted that man, desired him, he wanted to know what it would be like to have those lips against his own, to feel his beard against his cheek, to have those arms wrapped around him, holding him close.

He was no stranger to male lovers; he had known for a long time that he was not attracted to females. He had always been drawn to masculinity; that ‘rough and ready’ look, the muscular body of the soldier. Men who were full of strength and dominance. Aragorn was perfect, everything he wanted and more.

He wondered what it would be like to have Aragorn inside him, what kind of lover would he be? Would he would be rough, reinforcing his status as ruler, the one in charge?

“No,” he thought, “Aragorn cares deeply about everyone; he would be a considerate lover, making sure that I got as much pleasure from it as him. He would make us feel equal, while still maintaining that regal charm he has in everything he does... ”

He shook his head violently; he could not have those thoughts. As handsome as he was, this was no mere ranger, this was his king!

He was still trying to force those thoughts from his mind as he went down to breakfast. He hoped that he would be able to dine alone before disappearing into his study to do some much needed paperwork. He had been placed in charge of restoration of buildings which had been destroyed during the war and with the first lot well under way, he had to begin to prioritise those which were left. He had much to keep him busy, and he knew that once he started he would be unlikely to be disturbed.

The hall appeared empty as he entered, but he looked around to see a man eating alone. The King! He turned quickly; he had to get out before he could be noticed. He could not face Aragorn now.

“Faramir!”

Faramir winced as he heard his name being called from inside the hall. He had been seen. Reluctantly he turned back round.

“Yes, my lord?” he replied questioningly.

Aragorn gave a look of displeasure at the way he had just been addressed. He had asked Faramir many times not to be so formal and to call him Aragorn, as all his friends did. But he had refused to do so anywhere that he might be overheard, and would only address him as Aragorn in the privacy of either of their studies. To Faramir he was king first, and friend second.

“Sit, join me. Why are you in such a hurry to leave when you have not yet eaten? It is what you came here to do is it not?” asked Aragorn inquisitively “You turn down my company yesterday evening, and now you will not join me for breakfast. Anyone would think you were trying to avoid me!” he added teasingly.

Faramir felt a pang of guilt run through him. That is just what he had been trying to do. Although he knew he could not avoid him altogether, he thought if he could just spend less time with Aragorn, then maybe these thoughts would leave him, or at the very least he could shut them away in the back of his mind.

“Of course not my Lord, I am just busy that is all. The next set of buildings due for restoration need to be selected. Reviewing the requests seems to be taking up an awful lot of my time.” he replied, hoping that he sounded convincing enough that Aragorn would let the matter be dropped.

“Well, I best let you get on then,” said Aragorn, “At least join me for dinner tonight in my private dining hall. I have been warned about what you are like when you are in one of your working moods,” he chuckled. “Someone has to make sure you eat. If it were up to you, you would be half dead of starvation before you even noticed you were hungry.”

Faramir knew that he could not refuse; Aragorn would make sure he was there even if he had to carry him. So instead he nodded affirmatively and hurried out of the room grabbing a couple of apples from the table as he went passed.

Aragorn sighed, he cared about Faramir a lot, maybe a little too much. And he knew him well enough to know when something was bothering the young man. During the first few months of becoming king, he had learnt much about Faramir’s life, his closeness to Boromir, his relationship with his father, his skill as a fighter and his love of literature. He also knew that he needed much reassurance of his worth and his ability of being Steward. Everything he had learnt about him made him more and more curious, and he found himself liking him more and more.

But Faramir himself never spoke about himself or his relationships. He kept himself to himself, and had been trained never to show his feelings to anyone. Aragorn knew that Faramir had courted Lady Éowyn for a while after they had both been released from the Houses of Healing, but it had not worked out and she had returned home. Everyone loved and admired him, but he did not seem to notice, always striving to prove himself. Aragorn wondered if Faramir really had any close friends, he knew of none.

No, he would have to take it up on himself to get to the bottom of whatever it was that was bothering the young Steward; it had been weeks since he had seen the man smile. And quite frankly, he missed it.

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