Faramir Fiction Archive

A Twisted Tale (NC-17)

Written by Minx

29 November 2011 | 4154 words | Work in Progress

A Twisted Tale – Part 1: Leaving Gondor

Rating: NC-17, Faramir/Various, definitely incomplete

Notes: This is basically a set of double drabbles on the 50_darkfics prompts, using the theme of Faramir goes on the fellowship instead of Boromir. Also the rather lovely theme of Denethor whoring Faramir out to all and sundry, which of course translates very beautifully into everyone and everything having their way with poor dear Faramir.

It’s of course nowhere close to complete… and very very AU!

So here goes…a long rambling not very comprehensive or conclusive tale in double drabbles:)

Warnings: Slash, non-con, OOCs

Pairings/characters: Denethor, OMC/Faramir, Orcs/Faramir (past), Haldir/Faramir, Elf/Faramir, Théodred/Faramir, Éomer /Faramir, Gríma/Faramir, Théoden/Faramir, Saruman/Faramir, Elladan/Elrhoir/Faramir, Implied Gandalf/Faramir, Implied Aragorn/Boromir, imaginary Aragorn/Faramir, Nazgûl/Faramir, OMC/Faramir

Note: Please, please read and heed the description and warnings. This can get fairly crazy, quite mean, and not always nice to other favourite characters

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Part 1: Leaving Gondor

1.1 Dreams

Prompt 025. Destiny

The dream first came to him early in the summer during a rare afternoon nap. He woke breathing heavily, unsettled by the images he could recall – the beautiful, unfamiliar landscapes, gentle hills, rugged mountains, a long winding river. A strapping, young man, laughing eyes bright in the sunshine.

Then an inky blackness.

It came again days later. The warrior, clad in black and silver, laughing as he strode through long, bright green grass under clear, blue skies. Then a splatter of crimson. Then the blackness again

It came again within a week. This time he could see the arrows flying through the air.

And then again. The arrows struck the smiling warrior.

“Boromir!” a shrill voice cried.

The dread in his heart unabated, he sent to Osgiliath for Boromir.

Boromir arrived, with Faramir in tow, both speaking of a strange dream summons, each requesting to be allowed to journey north post haste.

He made the decision easily. Boromir, as Steward’s heir, was destined for great deeds for Gondor. Faramir was the spare. His greater deeds lay in the bedchamber so far. But there too, the new lad from the courtesan’s street, showed great promise, so Faramir could well be spared.

1.2 Never again

Prompt 055. Never

Faramir knelt naked on the floor in front of the older lord, reached for the already aroused flesh, and began kneading it.

“Take it in your mouth! Now!”

He obeyed instantly, running his tongue over the bulbous tip and lowering his lips onto the engorged length.

The man began thrusting into him immediately, and he felt himself pull away as always. Fingers grasped his hair promptly, pulling his head forward again.

“Faster!”

Unable to move, his lips strained, mouth aching he continued to work his way down the fat length.

Later that night, as he lay in bed, breathing heavily, the same fat length buried painfully deep inside him, the older lord suddenly ran his fingers through his hair, almost tenderly.

“You may not know,” he said softly, “But your father has found a new one.”

Faramir stilled.

“Most prefer him to you. He enjoys it, they say, and knows many ways of bringing pleasure. And he’s younger too, and beautiful.”

No wonder his father was amenable to sending him to Imladris. He would never have to do this again, he realised. He would never again be required to give his body for the good of Gondor.

He sighed gratefully.

1.3 The Choice

Prompt 073. Cry / tears

Faramir yawned tiredly, pushing open the door to his chambers, shrugging off his robes. A hot bath, then bed! He hardly had time to react when his arm was grasped roughly and he was shoved onto his bed.

“Boromir,” he gasped. His brother loomed over him, his usually smiling features marred by a huge scowl.

“How did you do it?” Boromir asked harshly, “You went to his bed, didn’t you?”

Faramir made to rise, confused, but Boromir’s hand clamped on his shoulder held him down. He was stronger and taller and within seconds he had Faramir pinned down, straddling his legs so he couldn’t move.

“Wh-who… what…?” Faramir stuttered.

Boromir glanced at his naked body in contempt. Faramir blushed. His nipples were reddened and his lower body littered with finger shaped bruises and dried semen.

Boromir grasped his limp member painfully.

“You seduced Father so he’d let you travel,” he raged.

Faramir shook his head, miserably.

“He needs you here,” he whispered brokenly, “Not me.”

Boromir’s expression changed – confusion, then anguished understanding clear in his brimming eyes. His grip loosened, and he made to rise.

Faramir pulled him close, and reached for his leggings. He would soothe his brother tonight.

1.4 Departure

Prompt 038. Outcast

Faramir left early one summer morning, unusually chilly, obscured by a dull mist. The city was quiet, still asleep. He set off alone on horseback for the far northern lands that none seemed sure even existed beyond Mithrandir’s tales.

Boromir was in Osgiliath, sent back days ago. They had barely had the time for a hurried farewell.

Denethor remained in his rooms, having spoken to Faramir the evening before.

Faramir had thanked him for the honour of letting him make this journey. Denethor had replied with an indictment of the retreat from Osgiliath, and instructions for his journey to Imladris, and his return too.

“It is not for the honour that I send you,” Denethor had scoffed, “I am sending you for Boromir and the other captains are needed here, unlike you. Your uses are few. The uses of this journey too seem few, weighed against its dangers.”

He had listened unhappily but without protest to the familiar words.

“Your lack of skill in the battlefield and your reluctance in the bedchamber are a constant source of embarrassment to me. But now there are far more capable people to replace you in all your tasks. You are unnecessary to Gondor.”

1.5 Fighting Orcs

Prompt 032. Past

Faramir collapsed to the ground breathing heavily. He was exhausted, bruised all over; his sword was broken, his bow had come unstrung and his arrows were all used up.

Yet there was enough to be thankful for. His horse stood unhurt, and he himself was untouched barring a few surface injuries.

Most importantly he had evaded capture by the orcs that had attacked him.

For he knew very well how he could fare, if captured. He had some years ago fallen into their clutches in Ithilien. It had been two days before the rangers could rescue him. They had stormed the orc camp at night, killed all of them, then undone the ropes that held Faramir’s half-conscious body in place; bruised and bleeding, pressed onto athe rough bark on a broken tree stump, legs and hands spread out and bound to other branches by thick ropes that had cut into his skin.

It had taken a month’s complete rest in Minas Tirith for the injuries to heal. The scars from their serrated whips still covered his back. And seared in his memory were Denethor’s words after the healers had listed out his injuries.

“Orc whore!” he had spat out contemptuously.

1.6 Elves and arrows

Prompt 011. Weapon

Faramir stumbled upon the elf camp one misty evening, after wandering lost through woods for days.

He stared in awe at them – tall, lithe, golden haired, clad in grey, carrying longbows. He had always been enamoured by elves, long seeking to meet one.

“Greetings,” he said, shyly.

“What do you want?” the taller asked curtly.

““Any arrows you’d spare; I’ve lost all mine to orcs,” he stuttered, “And d-directions to Edoras.”

“Why should we lend weaponry to you? We too have a perilous journey back to our land.”

“I have coin-,”

“We’re not dwarves, lad,” the younger scoffed.

“We find men unpleasant,” the tall elf’s eyes flashed with anger, “They seek to purchase or sell everything, even themselves.” Then amusement, “What would you pay, little man?”

Faramir stared at him numbly.

“But he’s dirty, Haldir,” the younger elf protested.

“All men are.”

They alternated with him, through the night; a turn for each arrow. The younger one rough, quick and hurtful each time. Haldir more hurtful, yet slower, deliberate and once, even teasing Faramir into a painful arousal before pulling out. Both mocked him repeatedly with words and tantalising actions.

They let him go at dawn with arrows and directions.

Part 2: To Rohan and Beyond

2.1 The marshalls of the Riddermark

Prompt 048. Leather

The Riders encountered him shuffling through their windy grasslands alongside a limping horse; cold, tired and bruised.

They bound him, despite his protests and took him to their encampment on the hillside, a few bare, ramshackle stone dwellings.

“We’ll certainly allow you passage,” Théodred said, after identifying himself. “But for a price,” he smirked, running a leisurely glance over Faramir’s body.

Large, gauntleted hands shoved his upper body onto the low stone wall, holding him down, tiny pebbles pinching his bare groin and chest. He gasped as pain flared between his legs. Théodred was large, and he’d breached Faramir’s entrance in one swift, deep thrust, aided with merely some spit. The larger man’s loud, lust-filled grunts thrummed in his ears, drowning his own soft cries of pain, as his tight channel was invaded deeper. Leather gloves grasped his waist for purchase in a bruising grip.

He felt the horselord pulling out and then pushing back into him, harder. The smell of leather and wood smoke mingled with sweat and semen.

“I heard he was pretty.” A second rider walked over. Faramir looked up into amused grey eyes.

“You can have his mouth, Éomer,” Théodred declared generously as he continued thrusting.

2.2 The king’s advisor

Prompt 094. Lick

A horse could be his in Edoras, if the king would say so. Éomer and Théodred had told him after taking turns with him.

“An audience with the king?” Gríma, the councillor, queried, “He has no time for Gondorian pups!”

Faramir sighed, tired, cold and aching.

“Please,” he tried, “I ride far north and the way is rough and untested.”

Gríma licked his lips and stared at him.

“I suppose if you are really desperate,” he murmured and placed a hand on Faramir’s shoulder, slipping it under his collar, his fingers cold and clammy on the soft skin.

It was a familiar sensation. Faramir lay naked on his back on the councillor’s table, legs apart and raised.

He shivered as a dark pink tongue worked its way up his torso, cold breath whispering against his bare skin. Long, greasy strands of black hair trailed over his stomach, teeth scraping his nipples as thick fingers probed his sore entrance roughly, before moving away.

He bucked up moaning, his dry passage stretching painfully to accommodate the thick member pressing into him. Fat palms held him down, as he was penetrated hard and deep.

Gríma took him once more before letting him leave.

2.3 Pleasing the king

Prompt 003. Rule/Ruler

The king of Rohan looked old and tired, when Faramir arrived at his private chambers. But the dull eyes lit up at the sight of the younger man.

“Faramir!” Théoden’s lips curled into a strange wistful smile, as the young man knelt before him in greeting. He pulled him up into his arms, and embraced him.

“You have not changed much,” he murmured stroking Faramir’s hair and back, “It seems like merely a week ago that you came to my chambers in Minas Tirith, wearing nothing but your riding boots under your cloak.”

He sat back on his chair, pulling Faramir down to sit at his feet.

“A horse cannot be given away just like that, though,” he said frowning, hands stroking Faramir’s lower back.

“I can give payment,” Faramir said desperately and reluctantly placed his hand on Théoden’s groin.

Théoden sighed, “I am older now, and have little energy for these.”

Faramir heaved a silent sigh of relief.

“But if you would just pull that small chest over here. There are some things that can aid.”

Théoden’s toys were many and varied.

When Faramir finally left Rohan, he walked by his new horse for two days, sore and exhausted.

2.4 Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards

Prompt 066. Midnight

Faramir strived to make his way as swiftly through the gap of Rohan as he could. He knew Isengard lay in the distance, and dreaded that idea of coming across Saruman.

He had met him earlier when the wizard had visited Minas Tirith. He had been given chambers near Faramir’s. They met rarely for the wizard spent much time conferring with Denethor alone.

Until Faramir awoke, one night in his chambers, to a cold touch on his stomach and found himself lying naked on the cold floor on his back. His legs were bent at the knees and spread apart, exposing him completely. The lanterns in his room had been lit. Saruman sat by his side.

He sat up with a start, and automatically curled his legs to hide himself.

“You are quite a fine looking young man,” Saruman said kindly, “If you please me, I could give you all you desire.”

Faramir shrank away, terrified, well aware of how exactly he would need to please.

“I could else ask your father for you. I have heard he is not ungenerous with you.”

Faramir paled.

Saruman laughed softly, “Fear not. I will wait. Someday I know, you will reach Isengard.”

Part 3: In Rivendell and the northern reaches

Summary: Faramir reaches Rivendell and wants to travel with the fellowship.

I know the hobbits did not go in search of the riders with the scouts from Rivendell, but this is as I said, AU

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3.1 The destination

Prompt 065. Match

Faramir had been wandering aimlessly through fog and drizzle for close to two days now, still seemingly nowhere near Imladris.

He was almost faint from exhaustion when the elf came across him.

“Imladris,” he mumbled, stumbling to the ground.

“And who might you be?” the elf queried.

“Faramir of Gondor.”

“I’ve heard of you, son of Denethor,” the elf said frowning, “You’re not expected in Imladris.”

“It is very important that I reach there,” he beseeched.

“’How important?” The elf had a familiar glint in his eyes.

They moved to a clearing nearby. The elf leaned back against a fallen tree, his penis hard and erect. Faramir had just straddled him when a second elf entered the clearing.

Faramir gasped, and made to move.

“Sit back,” the elf said imperiously, “This is my twin, Elladan. We always share our pleasures.”

“I don’t suppose you’d mind?” The other elf said pleasantly, stripping down his leggings

Faramir shook his head unhappily, “Would you like me to use my mouth on you, while…”

“Nay, lad, we always ride together,” Elladan said, and moved to stand in front of his twin, so that their members rubbed against each other, glistening below Faramir’s trembling buttocks.

3.2 The king

Prompt 020. Master

Faramir stared at the ranger. Gone was the unkempt hair, unshaven face and the haphazard clothes. The man before them now stood cleaned, finely clad, tall and handsome as he uttered his claim to Gondor.

The voice rang in his ears, strong and powerful, sending shivers up his spine and through his groin.

Often he had woken wet and sticky from dreams where he surrendered all to one man; laying himself on soft, silken sheets, warm grass, hard stone, his body bared to this man, spread out and open for taking, crouching naked and bound at his feet, seeking merely a touch, lying whipped and aching on a cold floor, begging for more, at his command, anywhere he sought, being taken at will many times over. And he would always wake with the whisper of this voice echoing in his ears.

He ignored Legolas’ baleful glare, and continued staring, worshipping that magnificent form, taking in the firm build, straight back, powerful legs. There was power and strength there, but also grace and gentleness.

He trembled as the older man’s words washed over him. Whether Aragorn were king of Gondor or not, Faramir knew he would willingly be his subject forever.

3.3 Warnings

Prompt 015. Angry

Faramir waded out of the stream shivering, for the water had been frigid, although the elves had said it would be nice for a bath! Trembling as cool air nipped his bare skin, he reached for the robes he’d left on a shrub nearby.

He gasped as he was grabbed and shoved against a tree, Legolas’ palm on his chest, holding him in place. Rough wood scratched his bare back and buttocks painfully. Elrond’s twin sons stood behind scowling derisively.

“We saw how you stared at Estel,” Legolas growled.

What?” he squeaked, confused.

“You were practically undressing him with your eyes in the council!”

A swift punch to his unprotected stomach sent him down in a heap.

One twin smiled pleasantly above him, “Harm one hair on Aragorn’s head and we will hunt you down to whichever miserable corner of Gondor your father hides you away in and ensure you suffer. We’ll do far worse to you than you think of doing to Aragorn.”

Faramir flushed, annoyed. He’d never harm Aragorn! He made to rise painfully.

“I wouldn’t-,”

“For he’d certainly not be willing with you!”

The kick to his groin sent him down again, moaning pitifully. The elves left.

3.4 The fellowship

Prompt 057. Please

Elrond frowned when approached, “I don’t see why you should travel with them.”

“I assured my father I’d uphold the honour of Gondor. And surely there’s safety in numbers?”

“I am yet unsure where Gondor stands on the kingship,” Elrond retorted, “Besides, I don’t feel you’ll aid greatly on numbers. From what I’ve heard of your swordmsanship, your brother would have been more useful.”

Faramir reddened.

“They cannot be distracted by weakness,” Elrond continued, returning to his paperwork, “I hear besides that your skills in the bedchamber are more useful to your father!”

“Oh!” Faramir said dully.

He had thought Elrond would be different but clearly not. He shrugged off his robe.

Elrond stared at the stark naked figure and gasped, dropping the papers.

“Would you like to take me over the table, or the bed?” Faramir asked.

“What are you doing?” Elrond rose and shoved him against the wall, angrily.

“You said you heard of my… skills. I thought if you availed them, I could travel.”

He cried out as he was struck across the face.

“Get out!” Elrond shouted, throwing his robe at him, “You disgust me!”

Faramir scrambled hurriedly into the robe and left, humiliated and tearful.

3.5 The decision

Prompt 051. Yes

“I was surprised to see you here,” Mithrandir said, “I thought Denethor would send Boromir.”

Faramir flushed miserably, “Boromir is needed in Gondor. I’m not.”

“I’ll speak to Elrond,” Mithrandir said reassuringly.

Elrond was disinterested, “What use will this lad be on this journey?”

“He is well-skilled in battle,” Gandalf said reassuringly, “And leads the Ithilien rangers most capably.”

“I have heard nothing of those skills,” Elrond retorted.

“Denethor makes every effort to slight those, lauding instead his sexual skills.”

“Yes. Which are unnecessary here, however good they may be.”

“I will admit he is more than capable there.”

“You?” Elrond sounded appalled.

Gandalf shrugged, “Denethor sends him when I visit to seduce me for information. And I feed Denethor news that he must know but is too proud to ask.”

“But why must you -?”

“He would know if I hadn’t bedded the boy. I hear he has him examined. This is convenient.”

“I can’t believe…”

“I am most gentle with him. Unlike the others he is asked to pleasure.”

He cannot return to Gondor just yet. I am sure he will be of much use on this journey.”

“Very well. Take him with you, if you will!”

3.6 Dropping Eaves

Prompt 093. Voice

Faramir halted, hearing his name mentioned. Elrond, Glorfindel, Legolas and the twins stood in the garden below.

Glorfindel was speaking, “They say in the diplomatic circles if it can be resolved by war, Denethor calls on Boromir; if it can’t, Faramir’s whored out.”

Faramir paled.

“What use is a whore in this journey?” Elladan snorted, “Unless anyone has needs…” he nudged Legolas, smirking.

“I wouldn’t bed that stinking runt ever,” Legolas sniffed, “And I don’t trust him at all. He seemed ready to devour Aragorn in the council.”

“He’s Denethor’s son,” Glorfindel said, “The old man would hardly welcome Aragorn!”

“Boromir is Denethor’s son too,” Elrond said, “But Aragorn thought very highly of him, when they met in Pelargir.”

“We know why that is,” Elrohir smirked, “They nearly broke their bed.”

Faramir gasped. Boromir’s secret northern lover! His brother had raved one drunken night about that tryst, in shocking detail.

Elrond scowled, but continued, “I’ve heard he’s unlike Denethor, even Boromir; bookish, Gandalf says.”

“A coward,” Legolas opined.

Faramir flushed. That word always had the power to hurt.

“He’s no good for the fellowship,” Elladan said.

Faramir turned away unhappily.

“But the fellowship could be good for him,” Elrond mused.

3.7 On the broken bridge

Prompt 062. Shadow

Faramir shivered, young Pippin’s description of their flight brought to mind his own encounter with the darkness in Osgiliath.

He ‘d stood at the bridge, sword in hand, holding the defence as Boromir helped their men set fire to the wooden supports.

The shadow had engulfed him there, filling him with strange sensations. He’d felt a coldness creeping up his legs, between his thighs. It seeped between his parted legs, settling between his buttocks, and in his groin. He felt himself hardening and whimpered, shocked. Around him the battled raged.

The sensation spread to his stomach and chest; his nipples were hard and aroused. He gasped. A lethargic weakness set over him. His hand inched towards his swelling groin; he felt his knees tremble, barely holding him up

And then he noticed the Easterling spring towards Boromir. He moved immediately, intercepting it and three others that followed, back into the fray of the attack.

The bridge finally crumbled, forcing them into the river. When he crawled onto the other bank, wet and exhausted, he could no longer feel the shadow on him. But the lethargy stayed in him all that night and he lay shivering in Boromir’s arms, weakened and shaken.

In the northern reaches…

3.8 A room for the night

Prompt 079. Rain

Faramir stared out of the window at the persistent rain. Aragorn was to have met him and Pippin at the inn near the ranger village two days ago and Faramir had no coin to stay another night.

He sought the innkeeper.

“Out you go,” the man shrugged.

Faramir bit his lip. He’d have left but he had Pippin with him. And the rain was worsening.

“Another day,” he pleaded, “My companion brings coin.”

“He was due yesterday!”

“Please?”

“I could give you a night without coin…,” the innkeeper said suddenly, reaching for the younger man’s hip, smirking.

Faramir, eyes closed, mind on the pitter-patter of the rain on the stable roof, stood bent over a stall, gripping rough wood for support, naked legs spread wide, fat, sweaty fingers clutching his buttocks, panting, excited breaths in his ear, the innkeeper’s thick length thrusting into him in rapid bursts. Until finally, he pulled out, thick trails of release trickling down Faramir’s thighs.

Faramir rose. And gasped.

Aragorn stood there, watching disgustedly.

The innkeeper laughed, and smacked Faramir’s backside, hard. “I can see why you keep this runt around. He’s well worth the extra night!”

“We leave now,” Aragorn said and strode away.

3.9 Impressions

Prompt 077. Unforgiving

They rode back through intermittent rain, Faramir trying to ignore the pain caused by his sore lower body impacting the hard saddle. The terrain seemed rougher now than when they’d ridden out.

Aragorn would not speak to him.

He had tried to explain as they were leaving, red-faced from embarrassment, “I thought we’d need to stay another night. I had no coin, and didn’t know when you’d return, and -,”

“You could have camped outside!” Aragorn stated, a little too calmly.

“It was raining. And Pippin-,”

Aragorn had given him a disgusted look and shouldered past him, almost sending him falling.

Pippin prattled away merrily as they rode, “I’m so glad we left that awful inn. The rooms were terrible! I’d much rather have slept out in the rain! I’d brought a tent too!”

Faramir tried talking again later in the day.

“I’m grateful Lord Elrond is letting me travel on the quest. I look forward to journeying with you.”

“I’m not,” Aragorn said cuttingly, “Four hobbits will need enough looking after. I would have preferred to do without one more charge.”

“I do not need looking after,” Faramir retorted, “I too am a soldier.”

“Don’t you mean a slattern?”

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