Faramir Fiction Archive

And All Because... (NC-17)

Written by Foofy

02 February 2005 | 55500 words | Work in Progress

Part 4: Influence

Arwen stalked through the halls of Rivendell, cold fury on her mind. Aragorn had an amazing ability to be able to frustrate her with ease. He was far too unpredictable and yet far too determined when his mind had been made up. Whether he would still take the throne of Gondor remained to be seen, although perhaps he might consider it out of sympathy to his now extremely shaken lover.

The she-elf’s eyes narrowed further as she considered exactly what to do with said lover. Boromir was becoming even more unpredictable as a tool than Aragorn, although ironically this tended to have nothing to do with the man himself who seemed to have a remarkably simple outlook on life. His brother was a different matter of course, but Faramir was a minor inconvenience. The younger son of Denethor could simply be returned, untouched. Boromir, however, had new scars to consider, the majority of them not physical in the slightest. A trained and obedient Steward was one thing. A partner in crime to your husband was quite another.

She turned a corner, swiftly making her way towards the chambers where Haldir was alleged to be waiting, guarding their little prisoner with, no doubt, extreme efficiency. Haldir might be an arrogant elf, but at least he was reliable and he certainly achieved all that he set out to do with little trouble. A useful ally, and thankfully one that need not be on the doorstep when Gondor was finally hers.

Arwen located the said elf within the prisoner’s room, both Haldir and Faramir sitting on the floor, a plate of half eaten bread to one side of the captive. The captive himself had looked towards her as soon as she entered the room; the elf in comparison carelessly glanced towards her from his cross legged position on the floor as though bored of her constant intrusions.

The she-elf halted, her gaze moving from Haldir to Faramir slowly. The young man flushed at the intensity of her glare, and looked towards the floor. Faintly satisfied, Arwen turned her attention back on to Haldir.

“Exactly what is going on here?“ Arwen folded her arms. The fact that the young man was half dressed had not set her mind at ease. This promised complications.

“Investigation,“ Haldir seemed indifferent to her tone.

“Into what, pray tell?“ Arwen raised an eyebrow. Faramir gave Haldir a little look which Arwen faintly recognised as the type that Boromir gave Aragorn whenever he was after something, normally protection. It did not aid her mood in the slightest.

“Psychology,“ Haldir still seemed completely unrepentant. Arwen stared at him a few moments more, then shook her head irritably.

“I am not in the mood for your foolish games, Haldir.“ she said coldly. “There are more important considerations to take care of than your . investigations,”

Haldir surveyed her idly. “Everything going well, then?“ he queried lightly. Arwen glared at him, then turned her attention back onto the prisoner, who was watching her cautiously without drawing too much attention to himself, aware that the balance of power had shifted. The boy’s position was submission personified. Highly suspicious in one of Gondor, although she had heard that the current Steward was somewhat firm on his opinions regarding obedience.

“His brother is not co-operating,“ Arwen snapped back at Haldir, not failing to notice the slight raise of Faramir’s head at this. Haldir looked faintly bemused.

“I confess myself surprised at that. What did you wish him to do?“

Arwen turned her head to be able to watch Faramir closely whilst still using her hair as a natural shield. “??His task was simple, to encourage Aragorn towards our aims, using his body or whatever else appealed. And he manages to fail in this one task!”. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the young man. His face was neutral as he could keep it but there was a definite look of alarm from one who supposedly did not speak the language.

“So what now?“ If Haldir was surprised at Arwen’s keenness to discuss business in front of the prisoner he did not show it. “I assume Aragorn has now shunned him,“

“I’m not certain. He may find him infuriating and exasperating but Aragorn undoubtedly still finds him attractive enough to fuck.“ Arwen deliberately chose the cruder word to ensure that there would be no doubt in Faramir’s mind. At the ranger’s slight wince, Arwen smiled grimly to herself. So the child thinks he can fool an elf does he?

“And what are you doing with this one, incidentally? Keeping him as a pet?“ she continued pointedly.

Haldir seemed indifferent to the tone. “He interests me,“

“That does not answer the question, Haldir. If you must start relations with this boy, kindly wait until I have his brother firmly under my control. And then you can do what you like with him,“ Arwen gestured dismissively. Haldir raised an eyebrow.

“And what of the political consequences?“ the elf queried. “I thought we could not possibly take a Captain of Gondor,??”

“And yet here he is,“ replied Arwen dryly. “Giving him back is unlikely to make a lot of difference, especially with what I understand about the current Steward’s preferences towards his children,“

Haldir uncurled himself slightly. “Look at his back,“

The she-elf paused delicately, then moved to be able to view the ranger properly. Her eyes fell on the raised scars thoughtfully.

“Well, at least one rumour is not completely fabricated.“ she said after a pause.

“It appears not.“

Arwen glanced at him, amused. “And is this why he fascinates you so? A damaged child? It would be sweet if I didn’t know exactly what you would have planned for him,“

A flicker of displeasure crossed Haldir’s face briefly. “And what exactly does that mean?”

“You know what it means. I would not speak of it here as I would only frighten the child,“

Haldir made a dismissive noise. “The child cannot understand,“

“Is that what he told you?“ Arwen raised an eyebrow. “?? No, he comprehends well enough. He reacted to the news of his brother, and has been paying close attention to our conversation,“ She stood. “ But obviously you can discuss this at a later stage. For now I will have to find out what agreement Aragorn has managed to reach with the other son of Gondor. However, make sure he is ready for visitors tonight.??”

Faramir was aware of a pointed stare upon him as soon as the she-elf started to walk towards the door, and he stared at his hands silently.

“I see,” Haldir said coldly.

There was a long, long pause. The young man shivered again, this time from the draft from the briefly opened door which had clicked shut after the she-elf. Haldir did not move. Finally, reluctantly, Faramir gave a little sideways glance towards the elf.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I… I didn’t know when to say,”

“If you do this sort of thing with your father I can see exactly why he beats you,” replied the elf sternly. “Don’t take me for a fool, Faramir. You will regret it,”

Faramir looked alarmed as the elf began to rise, seeing his advantage wavering. Bloody she-elves! He put his most vulnerable expression on his face as he stared at the elf, looking lost and dejected.

“Please don’t go. I’m sorry,”

However, Haldir was obviously not the sort to bend to people’s wishes merely because of a pitiful expression. He simply stood, arms folded, staring down at the man as though he was beyond contempt. Faramir was painfully reminded of his father and finally lowered his gaze to the floor, recognising the fact that he could do nothing to influence this decision.

The elf took in the tense posture, the obvious concern, and smiled grimly to himself.

“And if I stay,” he rolled the words in his mouth as though sampling them, Faramir raising his eyes to look at him. “what would you do then?” Their gazes met. “How would you please me?”

The young man hesitated, uncertain of the elf’s meaning. “Any way that I can,” he said finally. Haldir cocked his head to one side.

“Seems somewhat vague. Like what, boy?”

Knowing his advantage was balanced on a knife edge, Faramir took his time to judge the elf’s expression. Haldir seemed aloof but not in any manner that would suggest frustration. Neither did he seem particularly impatient. The look was firm, if slightly bored, but no disgust showed itself as it had so often with his father. Faramir ran his tongue over dry lips and looked beseechingly towards Haldir.

“I would-”

At which point the door swung open, stopping the young man in his tracks. Another elf that Faramir did not recognise stood at the doorway, his attention only for Haldir. Orophin glanced behind him, then walked forward swiftly, completely ignoring the young man on the floor. Haldir stood gracefully, and looked towards the visitor.

“Brother, there is a problem,“ Orophin’s tone was urgent.

Haldir gave a look towards Faramir, who had the decency to look embarrassed, then nodded and steered his brother from the room. Shutting the door firmly behind them, he folded his arms and stared towards the elf.

“Explain,”

“Lord Elrond is requesting our presence,”

Haldir frowned. “Has there been any indication of why he wishes this?“

Orophin shook his head. “There has not. Mithrandir’s presence has also been requested,” The elf’s eyes were full of concern. “What if Lord Elrond knows of our activities?“

Haldir gave a snort of irritation. Out of his brothers, it had been Orophin who had been most concerned about the kidnapping. “I doubt that. Lord Elrond has more to worry about than the deeds of his visitors. The ring-bearer will be taking up all of his time,“

“The meeting is set for ten minutes, brother. Something must have happened. Arwen.?“

“There have been set backs with the plan, but nothing of that nature,” Haldir shook his head. “No, this must be unrelated,“

Once he had started crying, Boromir found he couldn’t stop. His fears, his frustrations, his terrors all converged in this one lapse of concentration. He could faintly hear Aragorn’s calming murmurs, trying to soothe him, but it was all a little too late. He could barely feel the hand on his shoulder, his own head buried in his arm, trying to stop the sobs from escaping. His upper thighs, buttocks and lower back were just a fireball of pain. In a strange way it was a relief, something to focus on other than his fears for Faramir and the unyielding pressure to get Aragorn to agree to Arwen’s desires.

“Boromir,” Aragorn was almost as distressed as he was. After realising the Gondorian was not about to push him away as he put his hand over his shoulder, the ranger tried to soothe him a little more, moving to lie next to him on the bed, his body against Boromir’s, his words automatically switching to the language his foster father used to soothe him with. “Cormlle naa tanya tel’raa. Lle tyava quel? Lle anta amin tu?”

There was a faint sound of a sad chuckle from Boromir.

“Aragorn,” it wasn’t much more than a whisper, the voice ragged but faintly, just faintly, amused. “I can’t understand a word you’re saying,”

“Sorry,” Aragorn tried to see Boromir’s face but the Gondorian kept himself hidden, although clearly he was slowly recovering. “Are you okay?” His hand stroked Boromir’s shoulder. “Do you need help?” The anxiety in the ranger’s voice was clear.

There was a long pause from the Gondorian.

“I honestly don’t know what you want me to say, Aragorn.” A shiver went through Boromir’s body again, his voice sad and slow. “You know I’m not alright. You made sure,”

The ranger opened his mouth to speak, but found no words emerging. He found himself cuddling up closer, trying to soothe the pain with his body. Boromir did not speak, although neither did he move away. The trembling within the other man’s body had died completely, only the speed of his breathing giving away his distressed state.

With a great deal of effort, Aragorn forced himself to move again to inspect the damage he had inflicted. Blows that had caused a rosy red effect had long since darkened to an angry red, occasionally even showing the dark purple-black of the bruises that would follow. Those lines which had cut the skin had stopped bleeding, the faint beginnings of the scab starting to show. For a long time Aragorn just stared at the wounds, the rage that had driven his hand a distant memory.

“My poor baby,” he murmured. He shifted from the bed and padded towards the chest of drawers, pulling open a drawer and obtaining a little bottle of healing cream that he had left just in case of games that became rougher than usual. Moving back, he positioned himself over Boromir, and watched him for a brief period before opening the bottle and scooping some of the cold cream out.

“This may sting a little,” he warned, sitting over Boromir’s thighs and carefully applying the medicine. Boromir arched his back in shock, and glanced over his shoulder. The ranger’s hand stopped as Aragorn took in the red rimmed eyes, the sad and frightened expression that seemed so remote from the proud warrior Boromir had been. Their eyes met; Boromir immediately went back to his original position, hunching his shoulders and burying his face.

“Oh, Boromir,” Aragorn sighed miserably. “I’m sorry,”

“What you must think of me,” Boromir’s voice was muffled. Aragorn could feel the soldier’s embarrassment, his distress.

“It’s okay,” Aragorn tried to calm him, but it had the wrong effect. Boromir lifted his head incredulously.

“It’s not okay! It never was okay and it never will be okay!” The force of Boromir’s explosion startled Aragorn slightly. “It’s weak and pathetic,” he muttered, dropping his head back down. “And… I can’t stop it,” his voice hitched again. Shaking his head in obvious anger against himself, Boromir quietened. His back stiffened slightly as Aragorn went back to applying the salve but no further protests escaped his lips.

They were silent for almost five minutes, the ranger tenderly treating the wounds. He could feel Boromir growing more calm with every minute that passed, his breathing relaxing to something approaching normal. Having finished, Aragorn simply sat back on his heels and watched him.

“I can go-”

“No.” Boromir’s response was immediate. “Stay. Please,”

Aragorn leant forward again, curling around Boromir as tightly as he could manage without pressing against injured flesh. Boromir squirmed briefly, but relaxed again as Aragorn’s arm drifted across his back, holding him close.

“So you don’t hate me any more?” Boromir’s voice was low.

“I didn’t hate you before,”

Boromir lifted his head to look at him incredulously. “You are kidding me,”

Aragorn dropped his eyes. “I was just… angry,”

“I noticed,”

The ranger was happy to hear the slightly dry sarcastic tone make a fleeting appearance into his lover’s words.

“It’s just it’s a very… sensitive subject,” he continued weakly.

“Also noticed.” Boromir gave a faint smile, resisting the urge to ask why. This query was a little too dangerous now, and yet it would have to be broached before Arwen turned up. Boromir coughed and turned a little to face his lover, his eyes nervously scanning his face for fear of further offence. Aragorn was a mystery of tightly constrained tensions, nerves. “Aragorn, I.,”

“It’s okay, Boromir. Just rest,” Aragorn patted him.

“I don’t need rest, I need to know why you hit me,” Boromir almost winced at the words that had managed to escape his mouth, tactless as always. Hurriedly he tried to search for some way of softening his sentence, pausing only as Aragorn slowly leant forward and kissed his forehead gently.

“It doesn’t matter. I was wrong,” the rangers voice was soft, regretful.

“It does matter, Aragorn.” Boromir forced himself to speak rather than just let that little statement slide. “I would never do what you said I did, you should know that,”

The ranger was silent. Boromir stared at him. “Don’t you?” his voice was a little more unsteady. Aragorn smiled finally, and kissed him again.

“Of course.” However, he kept his eyes well away from Boromir. The Gondorian felt his heart sink a little further, clasping onto Aragorn’s other hand like a lifeline.

“I mean it, Aragorn.”

The ranger looked back at him doubtfully, then nodded. Boromir relaxed slightly, knowing there were still doubts in the other man’s mind, but a few doubts he could live with. The majority had been won.

“Will you rest now?” Aragorn asked gently. The Gondorian lowered his head back to the bed, watching the ranger carefully. Aragorn settled himself close to his lover, and sighed slightly. Boromir waited for a few more moments before closing his eyes himself and drifting into a light troubled sleep.

There were few present at the meeting. The elf lord himself sat behind his desk, looking impassive as usual. The wizard Mithrandir sat near the window, occasionally looking out at the splendours of Rivendell. Rúmil had already arrived and had seated himself near the bookshelves, as far away from the possibility of being asked questions as he was able. And Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, was stood on the opposite side, his arms folded, an unreadable expression on his face.

As the door shut behind them, Elrond nodded his greeting. Noting Orophin moving to sit next to their other brother, Haldir elected to stand. He was aware of the wizard’s scrutiny as soon as they had walked into the room. Legolas, for his part, acted as though they were not there.

“Good day,” Elrond wasted no time into beginning the meeting. “It graves me to bring this gathering together, but I have little option under the circumstances. It regards certain worrying correspondence from Gondor.”

None of the brothers gave any indication that this was in any way alarming. Haldir raised an eyebrow.

“Gondor?” he echoed. “Why would Gondor be concerned about Rivendell? From what I hear they are somewhat insular in their discussions,”

“The elder son of the Steward put himself forward to travel as part of the Fellowship,” interjected Legolas, his eyes cool on the march-warden. “I do not consider that to be insular,”

“Nevertheless,” Elrond broke the silence. “it is partly Boromir’s presence that appears to have caused his father to fear the worst. It appears that the younger son, Faramir, has gone missing,”

“Missing?” echoed Gandalf, frowning slightly. “Faramir is a ranger. It does not take much for others to consider them missing when they are perfectly safe. What brings Denethor to believe such a situation?”

Elrond sighed. “It would seem that he was taken by force whilst on a routine scouting mission. One of the rangers he was with also suffered injuries from this kidnapping, although these seemed to be intended to subdue rather than seriously injure. The lieutenant reported the matter as soon as they arrived back at Minas Tirith.”

“Orcs?” suggested Legolas. “They would have been close to the borders,”

The elf lord shook his head. “I do not think it likely that Mordor would bother to kidnap a Captain of Gondor. There would be no profit for them, and any entertainment would be fleeting,” Elrond closed his eyes briefly at the image, and scanned the room thoughtfully. “And also the ranger reported the assailants to be of elven descent,” he added softly.

“What?” Legolas leaned forward. “It cannot be so!”

“I am as doubtful as you, Legolas. However, the ranger is apparently most insistent. The attack was well planned and executed. Apart from one or two tracks from Faramir, the assailants managed to accomplish their task without leaving any evidence. I am aware of the skills of the Ithilien rangers, and I do not doubt them with regards to their report. No orc would have been able to do this,” Elrond watched the faces around him. Gandalf cleared his throat.

“And what does Denethor demand?” the wizard asked softly.

“Lord Denethor believes that we hold his youngest son captive. He also expresses concern for his elder son, with whom apparently correspondence has been… fleeting.”

“Boromir does not seem the correspondence type,” replied Legolas. Elrond smiled slightly at this.

“Indeed he does not. However, this does not aid our position. Our allies within Middle Earth are few. We cannot hope to succeed if suspicion grows within the city of Minas Tirith,”

“Agreed,” Legolas nodded. “But what options are open to us?”

Elrond’s gaze swept around the other members of the room. “I have brought you all here as a last hope that you might have any information which could assist. You are all the last visitors from your respective homes to enter Rivendell. Has anything of note occurred that might be relevant? It is likely that the assailants would have to have entered one of the elvish realms.”

“We do not deal with Men, let alone those of Gondor,” replied Haldir. “We have not seen any sign of this man. Mirkwood would be more likely,”

Legolas glared towards him. “Exactly what do you mean by that, Haldir?” the elf’s voice was hard. Haldir shrugged nonchalantly.

“Two reasons immediately spring to mind, Legolas. One, Mirkwood would presumably be easier to reach. And two,” Haldir looked away, a slightly mocking expression on his face. “that it still holds all the marks of being unmanageable. Mirkwood holds many dangers,”

“How dare you accuse-” Legolas’ voice became raised, anger clearly blazing behind his eyes, but stopped as Elrond held up his hand.

“Although the phrasing could have been better worded, Mirkwood might indeed be a more likely suspect, for no reason other than logistics. It would make more sense to take a prisoner the shorter distance, although depending on their mode of transportation it would be debatable which would be quicker to reach. Equally, the Lady Galadriel would be able to sense any disturbances within her woods. Lord Faramir’s thoughts would be a danger to any who brought him to Lothlórien.”

Legolas subsided, although his glare lingered briefly on Haldir before finally staring out the window.

“I know of no groups who would have done this. There were no reports of any disturbances before I left,” Legolas’ voice was low.

“Has his brother been notified?” asked Gandalf quietly. Elrond shook his head.

“I do not want to inform Boromir until we have a little more information. Although he seems to have relaxed to a significant extent in the past week, I think we are all aware of his opinions during the council. However, I cannot keep this from him for very long.”

“There is no possibility that this man has just left?” Haldir said finally, folding his arms. “From what I have heard about Gondor, the Steward is particularly harsh to those who are not his favourite. Perhaps this boy has just had enough,”

“Faramir is not the type of man to run from a challenge,” replied Gandalf sharply. “It is true that he and his father are.not close. However, he would rather die than leave Gondor at this time, when his men need him. I do not feel that he would just leave of his own accord.”

“Either way, he is not where he is supposed to be, and this causes us difficulties,” Elrond sat back and considered the matter. “Would your father be willing to investigate this further, Legolas?”

Legolas hesitated. Finally, he shook his head. “I do not know,” he said reluctantly. “But I fear not. My father does not welcome the prospect of Men within his realm. He will be focused on the dangers to the city, not on another man’s son,”

“I find it strange that no demands have been received by Denethor for the return of his son,” Gandalf was considering the situation. “There must be some reason for his capture. The most likely seems a political motivation, and yet.,” The wizard sighed. “Haldir is right. Boromir would have been a much more logical choice.”

“Perhaps they were unaware of the tension within the family,” suggested Legolas. Gandalf shook his head slowly.

“But that would suggest a lack of research, which I greatly doubt. Unless the necessity arose since Boromir left Minas Tirith for Rivendell, the reason must be linked to Faramir himself.”

“What about the men of Harad?” Rúmil suggested. “Are they not also present on the roads?”

“I doubt whether they would have the capabilities, though motives would not be lacking amongst them. It would also explain the lack of demands,” replied Gandalf grimly. Rúmil raised an eyebrow.

“I do not understand,”

“The rangers of Ithilien and the Haradrim have a long history. Faramir has headed many successful attacks against their raiding parties and their homes.” The wizard looked towards the elf steadily. “If they have him, they will mean to torture and kill him in revenge, if they have not done so already. As much as it pains me to say it, I hope with all my being that it was an elf who has seized him. Faramir is a brave and honourable man. He does not deserve a slow and painful death at the hands of the Haradrim.”

Elrond interlaced his fingers, considering. “Unfortunately, we are only speculating,” he said finally. “It would appear that we will need to find out the current situation within Gondor before reacting, if we are able to react at all. I will need to speak to the brother,”

“The news will come as a heavy blow to him,” warned the wizard. “They are extremely close,”

Elrond nodded his understanding. “Nevertheless, he will need to be told. If nothing more than to assure his father than at least one of his sons is still accounted for,”

The knocking on the wooden door woke both men up from their sleep. Aragorn stared towards the door in surprise, then glanced towards the window where the setting sun was causing a beautiful red-orange glow. Boromir huddled down further in the blankets, trying to pretend to be still asleep.

The ranger looked down at him, smiled, and gently kissed his shoulder before sliding off the bed and slipping into his breeches. He glanced back at the bed, Boromir having already pulled over the blankets to hide himself from any watching eyes, and walked towards the door.

“Lindir,” he greeted the elf outside the door. “Can I help you?”

“Good evening, Estel. I was seeking Lord Boromir. Have you seen him?”

Aragorn shook his head. “Not recently,” he replied. “Although I can pass on a message if I see him,”

Lindir looked cautious for a moment, then nodded. “Agreed. Lord Elrond wishes to speak to him on an urgent matter,”

Aragorn stared at him. “Urgent matter? I know nothing of this. What has happened?”

The elf shrugged lightly. “I fear I do not know, Estel.”

Aragorn considered the matter, then nodded. “I will pass on the message as soon as I see him,” he confirmed. “Thank you, Lindir,”

The elf nodded, and continued down the corridor. Aragorn slowly shut the door, and looked back at the bed where Boromir had moved the blankets back and was looking back at him. Boromir shook his head.

“I cannot see your foster father,” he said shakily. “Can it not wait?”

“Apparently it cannot,” mused Aragorn, walking to the bed and sitting down on the edge. Boromir curled up beside him, Aragorn’s hand already resting on his shoulder, gently stroking the soft skin. There was a soft satisfied sigh from Boromir.

“You will need to go,”

“I know. Just… not yet,” Boromir buried himself a little more around Aragorn, still feeling vulnerable and extremely embarrassed about his lapse. To stand in front of an elf lord – for there was no way he was sitting – and look him in the eye would take more willpower and strength than Boromir possessed at this moment in time.

And then of course there was always the fact that he was due to see Faramir. Boromir was already alert to the door, awaiting Arwen’s arrival. He knew that she would keep her promise with regards to the visit, just as she would keep her threats. The growing concern regarding his brother gnawed away at him. His eyes flickered towards Aragorn again, but fell away reluctantly. He could not broach the subject again without problems. Only Aragorn himself could initiate that particular conversation, and that was surely not what Arwen would wish to hear.

Aragorn was still pondering on the urgent summons, the ranger frowning slightly as he considered all the options.

“There is nothing at home that might be the reason for this request?” he hazarded. “Nothing that your father would want to contact you to do?”

“I cannot think of anything,” Boromir’s voice was muffled from the blanket.

“When was the last time you sent word to your father?”

Boromir buried himself a little more. Aragorn frowned.

“Boromir?”

“I had better things to do,” came a small mutter. “I am no writer,”

The ranger groaned to himself. “Have you sent word at all to your father since you arrived?”

There was a silence that stated exactly how much correspondence Boromir had bothered to do.

“Heaven knows what your poor father has been thinking during this time.”

“My ‘poor father’ can focus a little more on the borders and a little less on me,” snapped Boromir from the security of the blankets. “I am no child to be governed and babysat!”

“We have birds who will easily deliver a message,” Aragorn resisted the urge to snap back. “You must write to him before we leave,”

“Fine,”

Aragorn eyed him. “I will be checking,”

“I said fine!”

The ranger paused, studying him, before nodding. “Then once you feel able I will take you to see Lord Elrond. “

The blankets twitched again. Boromir ran a few thoughts through his mind before starting reluctantly, unhappy about the conversation but recognising the need to ensure that Aragorn was well away from the room before Arwen arrived.

“Would it be possible to have some time to myself?” he deliberately kept his voice meek, trying to ensure against any possible offence. Boromir was successful. A look of guilty anguish crossed Aragorn’s face briefly, before the ranger nodded and shifted towards the door.

“Certainly,” Aragorn’s voice was sad. “I am sorry, I did not think,”

“Only for a short period,” Boromir hastened to add, feeling guilty himself from the obvious distress of his partner. “Just to run things over in my mind,”

Aragorn nodded.

“Honestly, it’s okay Aragorn,” Boromir was feeling distressed himself. The ranger smiled at him.

“Come and find me when you’re ready,” he said softly, and was gone before Boromir could even sit up in bed. Boromir stared at the door as though expecting it to open once more, then slid out of the bed to dress carefully and slowly, cautious of his injuries.

Now all he had to do was wait.

Haldir was in a fine mood when he walked back towards the chambers, both of his brothers choosing to avoid him at this present moment in time. His posture was perfectly balanced, his features expressionless yet a burning intensity raged in his eyes.

His mood did not improve as he was joined by the daughter of Elrond as he turned a corner. Arwen had been sitting near a window awaiting his arrival and simply joined him as he strode past, walking swiftly to catch him up before matching his pace.

“I assume you’ve heard then,” her voice was delicate and yet ice cold. “Your little extravagance appears to have caused more problems than he’s worth,”

“I don’t see your boy doing any better,” replied Haldir coolly. “Has he managed to persuade Aragorn yet?”

“All in good time,” Arwen’s voice was clipped.

“I thought not,” They turned the final corner, Haldir’s hand pushing the door open. He waited until she had entered before shutting the door smartly and turning to face her.

“Everything is fine. They know nothing. If we remain with the intended plan then there should be no complications,” Haldir searched her eyes, although confident that nothing would change. This meant more to Arwen than it did to him, and he could feel the stubbornness raging in himself as it was. The she-elf nodded after a while, and stared towards the chamber door where Faramir was being held.

“I assume you will tackle that particular complication,”

“He is satisfactory. Just because his brother is proving more of a headache than we had anticipated does not mean that the younger boy will automatically go the same way,” Haldir was not in the mood to debate Faramir’s existence in their plans. Arwen shrugged lightly.

“He has already lied to you once. Your patience is remarkable,” her eyes met his briefly, before turning away again. “I want his brother to see him tonight. I need some type of… persuasion to ensure that Boromir will do as we ask immediately,”

Haldir narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Exactly what did you have in mind?” he asked slowly. Arwen smiled.

“Don’t look so concerned. I simply require you to ensure that Boromir believes that the threat to his brother’s well-being is closer than reality.” Arwen’s eyes flickered to the room again. “I don’t care how you achieve this, whether it be physically trained or simply performance. However, if he fails to perform satisfactorily.,”

“He will be the very essence of a defenceless child,” Haldir’s voice was confident. Arwen nodded, satisfied.

“Good. Boromir must believe his brother’s health and virtue is in the balance, otherwise he becomes even more unpredictable than usual. And I can assure you his usual unpredictability is irritating enough.” Arwen nodded to him and made her way back to the door, the tension in her posture slightly relaxed. “I will bring him in one hour,”

“An hour?” Haldir raised an eyebrow. “Cutting this a little fine, are you not?”

Arwen paused, her hand on the door. “Do you doubt whether you will have Faramir controlled by that time?” her voice was cool.

“He shall be cowering as required, you have my word. However, one would think by giving this instruction at such a late stage that you were trying to ensure punishment to train his obedience.” Haldir’s eyes were steady on her.

“Fancy,” Arwen commented dryly and left.

Faramir’s eyes were immediately on him as soon as he returned to the chamber, the young man having returned to the corner he had favoured since he had been brought there. The new bedroll lay untouched in the opposite corner as though the ranger had shunned this in fear of a trap.

Haldir was pleased to see the ranger’s eyes drop to study the floor, his head slightly bowed in a subservient manner. At least some things were not as bad as they could have been. Previously he had had images of having to constantly restrain the mortal, and was thankful he did not have to keep one eye firmly fixed on him at all times. Obviously the language difficulty was a mere lapse.

“You want to see your brother?” he asked after a moment. Faramir glanced at him, obviously surprised.

“Yes,” his voice was longing, wistful, one who knew that this was simply going to be a torment. Haldir leant back against one of the walls, and watched him carefully.

“I can get you to see him,” he said slowly, watching the hope grow. “However there will be conditions,”

“Conditions?” Faramir was wary, cautious of any new game. Haldir gently rubbed his ear with a hand.

“I need you to convince your brother that you are mistreated,” he said casually. Faramir blinked at him, confused. Surely it was usually the other way around?

“How mistreated are we talking?” he said finally.

“Just show some fear, some caution. Cringe. Cower. Wince every time anyone comes near you.” Haldir was enjoying watching the conflicting emotions cross the man’s expression, obviously still confused but eager to do anything to see his brother. “Act as though I’ve thrown you against that wall and beaten the very essence out of you,”

Faramir watched him with suddenly a very unreadable expression. “Anything else?” he asked.

“Just be as broken as you can be,”

The young man watched him steadily, his usual docile expression having been forgotten briefly. He ran his tongue over his lower lip before speaking.

“And what,” he said carefully. “happens if I don’t?”

Haldir smiled gently.

“ It’s very simple,” he said, his eyes clear with honesty. “ I get to break you.”

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