Faramir Fiction Archive

A Steward’s Desire (NC-17)

Written by Laurëlóte

27 February 2006 | 13627 words

Chapter 6

Éomer woke first the next morning. He smiled as he felt Faramir’s warm body curled up near him. He could not help but kiss the exposed neck, and move closer to him.

“Good morning, my love,” he whispered in Faramir’s ear when the steward started to stir. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you,” replied Faramir, turning and giving the other man a gentle kiss on the lips. “You should be leaving now, it is getting late and people will be stirring.”

Éomer groaned and buried his head against his love’s chest.
“Go,” said Faramir sternly. “Before you are missed.”

Reluctantly Éomer rose from the bed and dressed. “I will see you at breakfast,” he said with a smile before planting a final kiss on Faramir’s lips and disappearing out of the room.

Breakfast was well underway when Faramir arrived. He had spent ages trying to find a tunic which would at least partially cover up the bruise on his neck that Éomer had left him from the night before. The attempts had been futile, it was too high up to hide. He just had to hope that it would remain unnoticed, covered by his hair.

He groaned inwardly, realising that the only seat available was next to Aragorn. He did not want to face the king just yet, but he concluded that he could not avoid him altogether and so might as well break the ice and apologise now.

“Good morning, my lord,” he said nervously as he sat down.

Faramir had no need to be worried; Aragorn had instantly regretted his words to him, knowing full well that the young man would put Gondor’s well being above everything else. It had been unfair to suggest otherwise, and the words had only been said out of spite and jealousy.

Anxious to put the whole incident behind them as soon as possible, Aragorn smiled friendlily, “Morning Faramir.”

Seeing Aragorn’s smile, Faramir relaxed instantly. He would still have to apologise, but at least the king did not seem angry with him for yesterday’s disobedience.

“My lord, may I speak with you later about yesterday?”

“We do have to discuss what happened,” agreed Aragorn. “The party from Rohan leaves shortly; we will see them off first.”

Not long after, Faramir once again found himself in Éomer’s embrace. This time however it was not maintained for a second longer than protocol allowed.

“It has been good seeing you again my friend,” said Éomer putting his hands on the steward’s shoulders, earning him another glare from Aragorn who was standing a few steps behind them. “Although I am sorry my visit has been so brief.”

“Ride safely Éomer,” replied Faramir simply and politely.

“Come and visit whenever you like, I am sure Éowyn would be delighted to see you,” said Éomer before breaking his hold on the young man, brushing his hair slightly as he did so, exposing the bruise underneath.

“Mine,” he thought to himself, throwing a smug look in Aragorn’s direction before mounting his horse and riding off to join the rest of the party leaving Faramir and Aragorn alone at the gates of the city.

“I will see you in my study shortly,” said Aragorn before walking away, wanting to compose himself before speaking to Faramir. He had seen the bruise that Éomer had so obviously wanted him to see and once again he was fuming.

When he arrived at his study, Faramir was already standing at his desk waiting. Walking behind the steward to get to his seat, he moved Faramir’s hair to one side, indicating that he had seen the bruise. “I see that you gave Éomer a good send off,” he said disapprovingly as he sat down.

Faramir felt himself shiver in pleasure as Aragorn’s fingers brushed across his neck. Recovering quickly, he focussed on the issue being discussed.

“Yes my lord, I was with Éomer last night,” he replied, as emotionlessly as possible. He prided himself on his honesty; he saw no point in denying it. Despite his attempt at hiding emotion, Aragorn thought he detected a hint of nervousness about the words.

“I am sorry if you feel that it compromises my position in any way, it is not my intention. I would never put any personal liaison before my duty to Gondor.”

Aragorn motioned for Faramir to take a seat and tried desperately to not show his jealousy at the idea of his beloved steward being with anyone but him. “I know that Faramir, and I am sorry I suggested otherwise,” he said, forcing a smile.

Taking a deep breath, he wondered what to say next. He could not simply confess his feeling for the handsome man sitting opposite him, especially when it seemed so obvious that Faramir did not share those feelings.

“It is not that I disapprove of your relationship with Éomer, I merely worry for you. Your positions make it impossible to sustain such a relationship and I do not wish to see you get hurt,” he said slowly and carefully.

“Then you worry unnecessarily my Lord,” said Faramir simply. “I take pleasure from his company and that is all. I will not pine for him now that he is gone.”

“My heart only pines for you” he added silently to himself.

It seemed to Faramir that Aragorn visibly relaxed at being told the relationship was nothing serious. “Is Aragorn jealous?” he thought to himself hopefully. “Is that what it has all been about?”

He was not convinced, but it would make sense, and Aragorn had appeared to be flirting with him out riding the other day. It was definitely something to think about.

“I confess I am pleased to hear that,” said Aragorn. In fact he was highly relieved, but could not help wondering what to do next. He wanted Faramir badly, but could not risk ruining their friendship as he so nearly had with yesterday’s outburst. “Come, let us forget all that has happened these last few days. We have work to do.”

Faramir decided to be daring. He had been trying to avoid Aragorn recently, but now with the suspicion that the king might want to be more than just friends, he had to find out.

“Would you care to join me for a drink this evening Aragorn?” he asked hopefully. “I have a fine bottle of wine I have been saving.”

A huge smile broke out on Aragorn’s face. “Yes, that would be rather nice.”

“I will see you later then,” said Faramir returning the smile and leaving the room.

The first part of the afternoon was spent with Beregond, Captain of the White Company. He had been having difficulties with several members of his company, and Aragorn had asked Faramir to help sort it out. The men in question seemed to be a little over eager for battles and were struggling to adapt to peace time. More importantly they believed that sparring with each other was much more important than attending their duties.

Faramir thought it best to first talk with the men to outline the importance of guard duty. He saw no reason to charge in, take over, and order some horrible punishment. He wanted to give them the chance to do things right.

Meeting the six men later on that day, he made sure they understood the importance of the guard positions they held and the possible consequences of their absence from the posts.
The men had certainly seemed to get the message, and Faramir was quite pleased with himself, although he knew that only time would tell if they really had taken his words on board. “Next time, I will not be anywhere near as nice,” he thought to himself, heading off to dinner.

After dinner, Faramir collected the wine from his quarters, and made his way to Aragorn’s study, the location of many evenings spent together.

Aragorn was already there when the steward arrived, and was just finishing lighting the fire. Faramir stood in the doorway, admiring the figure standing in the firelight. The well fitting tunic showed off his perfect frame and broad shoulders, and the firelight made Aragorn look even more appealing. Faramir could not help but wonder what it would be like to run his fingers through that jet black hair.

“Ah, there you are,” said Aragorn smiling as he turned round and noticed Faramir. “What are you doing standing in the doorway? Come. Sit,” he added, gesturing towards the two comfortable chairs by the fire.

Determined to find out Aragorn’s feelings towards him, Faramir took a decision not to resist all the little touches he would normally try so hard to refrain from.

He allowed his hand to linger when Aragorn took the bottle from his hand, and again when Aragorn passed him a cup of wine. All the while he watched for the other man’s reaction.

Aragorn was pleased with the prolonged contact, but could not help but wonder at Faramir’s sudden change in behaviour, only a few days ago he would have pulled away, seemingly embarrassed at even the slightest touch.

Faramir noticed that Aragorn seemed more than comfortable with the contact, and could not help thinking that he should maybe step up his flirtations a little more.

Returning from their thoughts, both men soon settled down into their usual topics of conversation.

“They insist on asking the most pointless and obvious questions,” moaned Aragorn about his councillors, having had a particularly tedious meeting that afternoon. “They can manage perfectly well without me, but refuse to conduct any business without me being present.” He paused to take a sip from the cup in his hand.

“Maybe they just enjoy your company,” Faramir suggested teasingly. “What would they have to please their eye if you are not there?” with that, he threw Aragorn a shy smile, a hint of desire showing in his eyes.

The words and the look that Faramir gave him caused Aragorn to choke in surprise on his wine. As he was trying to recover from the shock, he felt his cup slip from his hand.

Instantly both men were on their knees, attempting to clean up the red liquid which was spreading across the floor before them. Their hands met on the cup as both reached out at the same moment to pick it up off the floor.

Wine forgotten, neither of the men wanted to move their hands away, enjoying the touch. As their eyes met, both saw desire in the face of the other. Subconsciously they moved their heads closer, narrowing the gap between them, their lips about to meet.

A knock sounded at the door causing both men to pull away abruptly. The spell was broken.

Aragorn went to the door, as Faramir finished mopping up the last of the wine.

After exchanging brief words with the guard who had knocked, Aragorn shut the door and sighed. “I am afraid I have to go. One of the solders hurt himself badly in training today. He has developed quite a fever and the healers want me to take a look,” he explained, looking very reluctant to leave Faramir’s company. “It is likely to be a long night for me. You should take advantage and get an early night for once.”

“Maybe I should,” replied Faramir forcing a smile. He was incredibly disappointed, and knew the moment had gone, their feelings once again remaining unspoken.

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