Faramir Fiction Archive

A Steward’s Desire (NC-17)

Written by Laurëlóte

27 February 2006 | 13627 words

Chapter 4

Aragorn sat in his study, a report in hand, distracted. He cursed when he realised he had just read the same passage for the fifth time, and threw the sheaf of papers across the room.

He just could not concentrate. Every time he started to read about the current state of defences in Dol Amroth, his mind just wandered to his gorgeous steward, definitely a much more pleasant thing to think about.

Faramir had seemed apprehensive at breakfast, and he knew somehow that it was due to Éomer’s expected arrival later that day, but still believed that it was due to the King of Rohan’s over-protectiveness of his sister Éowyn.

“He just worries too much,” thought Aragorn smiling. “I am sure whatever happened between them has been long since forgotten. And anyway, how could anyone not forgive Faramir?”

Aragorn could not help but think back to when he had asked Faramir to continue being his Steward after his coronation. Faramir was so young and inexperienced and had been so nervous about taking up the position, worried that he would not be good enough. He was proud at how hard Faramir had worked at it since then. He gave his all in everything which had been asked of him.

He had fallen hard for the young man, and had no idea what he would do if Faramir did not share those feelings.

Sighing, he reluctantly he got up to retrieve the report from the floor and started to read it for the sixth time. This time he was disturbed by a knock at the door.

“Come in,” called Aragorn.

The door opened and a guard entered. “My Lord,” he said bowing slightly. “The party from Rohan have been sighted and will be arriving shortly. Captain Faramir is waiting to greet them.”

“Thank you,” replied Aragorn. “You may return to your duties.”

As the guard left, Aragorn rose and went to the window. The party were indeed close, and he decided that he would also meet them. If there was any tension between Faramir and the King of Rohan he wanted to make sure it did not develop into anything more serious.

Heading down to the gates he arrived just in time to see the group riding in.

“King Éomer, it is a pleasure to see you again,” said Faramir in a professional manner as he welcomed the party.

“No, I assure you the pleasure is all mine Lord Steward,” replied Éomer as he dismounted from his horse and gave the reins to the stable hands waiting.

“Éowyn sends you her regards. She wanted to come along, but I managed to convince her that someone had to stay behind and look after things. Although I do feel it is me she would rather keep her eye on.” At this he smiled, giving Faramir a mischievous look.

“She has not yet forgiven you then?” chuckled Faramir.

“Alas, no. I feel that if may take a while yet. You however, were forgiven long ago. It was all my bad influence apparently,” Éomer said with a wink.

Aragorn watched the exchange closely. He instantly disliked the friendly banter and the closeness that was apparent between the two men. He especially hated the way that Éomer was looking at his steward, and the way that Faramir seemed so at ease with him.

Deciding it was time to interrupt the reunion, Aragorn made himself known. “Welcome back to Gondor, Éomer. I trust all is well in Rohan?” he asked politely.

Éomer turned to face the king, “Greetings, Aragorn,” he said with a false smile. “Thank you for seeing me at such short notice. Things are slowly returning to normal, but there are still a few problems which I am hoping you can help me with.”

“We can discuss them briefly after dinner if you like,” said Aragorn. “Right now I expect you want to bathe and relax. Faramir will show you to your rooms and if you need anything else just ask the guard outside.” With that he made his excuses and left.

“Is Aragorn alright?” asked Éomer as he followed Faramir through the castle. “He seems somewhat distracted.”

“Busy with all the work. You know how it is,” sighed Faramir. “We both have a lot to get done. It seems as though we just get on top of things and something else happens.”

“I am afraid I must return to my study as well,” said Faramir pausing outside a door. “I will see you at dinner,” he added.

“And there I was hoping for a less formal welcome,” teased Éomer, “Maybe later?” Not waiting for an answer he entered his room. It was more of a statement than a question.

---

Dinner had been a rather uneventful affair and the three men retired to Aragorn’s study fairly early in the evening.

Éomer explained that many of their crops had been destroyed by Saruman’s army and that it would be a poor harvest this year. He was hoping that he could trade his horses for some of Gondor’s crops. He went on to say that he hoped the arrangement would continue for a few years because some of the fields were too badly damaged to plant for a while.

The men briefly discussed possible figures for a while before deciding to continue the matter as planned in a meeting the next morning.

Talk quickly turned away from business and before they knew it they were exchanging orc slaying stories and talking about the time before they had fallen into these positions of power they never believed they would have.

Aragorn could not help noticing the looks which Éomer kept throwing in Faramir’s direction. Was there a glimmer of lust in those eyes? “They are just looks,” he told himself. “Poor Faramir seems to be getting more and more uncomfortable. As long as they remain just looks.”

Faramir was desperately trying to ignore the looks. He had enjoyed his brief liaison with Éomer but as far as he was concerned it had been over long ago. He was not interested in a repeat performance and did not want to play Éomer’s games.

Darkness fell and Aragorn, finding himself falling asleep by the fire, decided it was time to retire. Bidding the other men a good night, he got up to depart but found that he was extremely reluctant to leave the two of them alone together. He could not help but pause outside the door to think.

Making a quick decision he decided to stay. Fortunately the men were seated around the fire, with their backs to the door, allowing him to slip back inside the room unnoticed. He settled himself down in the shadows in the corner of the room hiding between the curtains and a bookcase.

“My dear Faramir, you have seemed tense all evening,” said Éomer slipping round the back of the steward’s chair and running his fingers down the other man’s neck before coming to rest his hands upon his shoulders. “Will you let me help you to relax now that we are alone?”

Aragorn watched uneasily as Éomer started to massage Faramir’s shoulders and neck. He noticed the young steward attempting to stand up, obviously uncomfortable at the touch, but the hands kept him firmly in place. Éomer started undoing the fastening at the top of Faramir’s tunic and pushing the material downwards to allow him access to as much flesh as possible.

Faramir tried harder to shrug off Éomer’s hands. “Thank you Éomer, but I am fine, really,” he said “I just need some sleep. Maybe I should retire to my quarters also.” He was not in the least bit tired, but he did not want to be alone with Éomer. It would be just too easy to fall back into the old routine, and it was Aragorn he wanted, not Éomer.

“Do you need any company, my love?” whispered Éomer seductively, just loud enough for Aragorn to hear.

Aragorn just about managed to suppress the growl which was forming in the back of his throat. He was reluctant to give himself away, but at the same time wanted to pin Éomer against the wall with his sword at his throat. He wanted to tell him that Faramir was his and no one else’s, especially not Éomer’s.

Éomer moved back round the chair. He leant over and gently lifted the steward to his feet. Then tenderly he slipped one arm around Faramir’s waist and moved closer towards him, whispering something in his ear. Then he brought his other hand up to rest on the back of Faramir’s head and pulled him close, kissing him softly on the lips.

To Aragorn, the kiss seemed to last forever, and when eventually Éomer broke it off, he kept Faramir close to him, as though reluctant to break his hold.

In the corner, Aragorn was furious. How dare Éomer make a move on his Faramir! And why had the steward just let him? His head started spinning.

“Good night Éomer,” said Faramir forcefully. He broke Éomer’s hold and made to leave, but as he reached the doorway, he turned and added with a smile, “Oh and by the way, my door will be locked, all night. So don’t even try it.”

Éomer grinned, “It’s alright Faramir, you can play hard to get,” he said teasingly, but sounding a little disappointed. “Just do not play too long. Otherwise there will be no time for other games, and I quite clearly remember you enjoying them last time.” With that he left the room, leaving Faramir to put out the fire.

Aragorn felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, “Last time?”

“It can not be true, it can not,” he told himself. Feeling sick he watched Faramir disappear out of the study, leaving him alone and confused in the shadows.

“Why does he shy away from me but allow Éomer to touch him in that way?” he thought sadly. “What does he have that I do not?”

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