Faramir Fiction Archive

Beginning to believe (NC-17)

Written by Anorienbean

22 December 2006 | 2033 words

Title: Beginning to believe
Pairing: Mablung and Faramir
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: No money was made from this, and we all know it’s not true. J
A/N: Faramir has lost everything… almost.

Written for the 2006 Midwinter Swap.

Request by Laurëlóte: I would like an Ithilien ranger fic please. Ideally I’d like something fairly romantic, with some comforting or reassuring in it. I have no preference as to which ranger Faramir is paired with providing Mablung makes an appearance somewhere. :)

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“No! Don’t leave…not like this!”

Faramir’s legs were tangled in the coarse brown blanket and his body was covered with sweat at he struggled to hold on to the last vestiges of his beloved brother. “Boromir! You can’t die! You can’t!”

The flap of the tent folded inward, and Mablung stepped inside, seeming to be little more than a shadow against the moonlight as he knelt by his captain’s side. Gentle fingers pulled the blanket away and he settled down next to Faramir, whispering softly. “Shhh… I’m sorry, Faramir, I wish I could tell you it was only a dream…” He brushed the hair back from the sweat-damp forehead of his longtime friend and lover, keeping his voice low, knowing that Faramir hated for his men to see or hear anything that would make them think him weak.

Slowly putting away his weapons, Mablung continued whispering, the mere sound of his voice soothing Faramir with its tenderness and familiarity, one of the few things in Faramir’s life that he knew he could trust.

Troubled gray eyes opened, and despite the darkness, found Mablung’s. “I miss him,” he whispered.

Mablung tugged his tunic over his head and lay down beside his captain. Their tent was far enough away from the other Rangers to allow them privacy, though they made no effort to hide their relationship. They’d been together for years, first as close friends, then as lovers, and the Ithilean Rangers treated them both with reverence and respect. Both men were courageous and strong, and not one of the soldiers around them wouldn’t have gladly given their lives to save either their captain or his lover.

On most nights, Mablung rested his head against Faramir’s shoulder, smiling as strong arms had held him close and rough hands had moved over him, unsure during their first few times together, but growing more confident over the years as Faramir learned what pleased his lover. Lately, however, ever since the first dream about Boromir’s death, Mablung had been the one who had held Faramir. The dreams had drained them both, making Faramir resist closing his eyes for as long as possible and Mablung wishing to keep watch over him once he did finally manage to sleep.

Faramir’s head rested against the dark, curly hair on Mablung’s chest and he closed his eyes, trying to push the dream away. “Did I call out for him again?”

Mablung simply nodded and combed his fingers through long, dark hair, wishing he knew what herbs could take away the nightmares, or, more to the point, wishing he could bring Boromir back.

“It should have been me.” Faramir’s voice was soft in the darkness of their tent, but Mablung heard him all too clearly and knew what was coming next. “Father wished that I had been the one to die…”

“And what about me?” Mablung had bitten his tongue for weeks now, ever since the dreams had started, and had, through sheer willpower and love for Faramir, managed not to say anything about Denethor so far. “You wish you’d died and left me alone, is that what you’re saying?”

Faramir looked up in surprise, eyes wide and head already shaking from side to side. “No, I…”

“That’s selfish, Faramir.” Mablung continued as if his lover hadn’t spoken. “Selfish of you, selfish of your father, and probably selfish of me to want you here when you’d rather be dead, but by the Gods, I can’t help it!” He sat up, carefully pushing Faramir away from him and moved over as far as he could, until they were no longer touching.

Stunned into silence, Faramir felt tears gather in the corners of his eyes and angrily wiped them away. He was a Ranger… and no matter what, he was not going to cry in front of his men… any of them. After a moment, he cleared his throat and sat up himself. “I only meant that my family, and Gondor and…and probably even you would have been better off if I had died instead of Boromir.”

“Yes, because I’ve told you again and again how much I hate my life with you, haven’t I?” Mablung’s voice was bitter, though all he really wanted to do was stop fighting. “I hate sharing a tent with you, sharing our rooms in the city, I hate kissing you and making love to you and making my life with you…so I would definitely be better off without you. Tell me, do you wish I’d fallen in love with your brother instead, so you wouldn’t have to worry about keeping me happy by living?”

Faramir’s face flushed as he stopped feeling pity for himself, and started to get angry…and jealous at the thoughts of Boromir touching Mablung. “Father said..”

“Your father is a fool!” Mablung hissed. “A pathetic, lonely old fool who cares about nothing but that…that thing he keeps hidden away in the upper rooms. If Boromir were alive, I doubt the old man would even notice now!”

There was nothing Faramir could say to this, nothing at all, because he knew his lover’s words were true. “Boromir loved fighting,” he finally managed. “He would have done a better job defending our city.”

“And you…you can’t fight at all, is that is? After all this time, I’ve been thinking I’ve served under the Ranger’s most skilled and intelligent captain. I suppose you’ll tell me next that I’ve been wrong in thinking that I was in love with you too? That I could find someone more suited for me, someone who would make me happy, as you seem intent on thinking you don’t do?”

Faramir looked down at his hands and twisted them together as he always did when he was trying to explain himself. Usually, it was in front of his father, but now, Mablung seemed intent on taking him to task as well.

“Mablung, I just meant…”

His words were cut off as Mablung moved across the small expanse of space separating them in less time than it took his heart to beat. His beard bristled against Faramir’s chin and lips and their mouths were sealed together before Faramir could even catch his breath. Mablung’s tongue delved into the recesses of his mouth, and long, calloused fingers tangled in his hair, pulling Faramir closer and deepening the kiss until they were both struggling for breath. Finally, Mablung pulled away, but held his lover’s face between both hands. “I love you, Faramir, and it would have killed me if you had died. Don’t you know that? Don’t you care?”

Faramir’s heart ached as he heard the softly but fiercely spoken words. For the first time since Boromir’s death, he wondered if maybe Mablung was right…everything did happen for a reason, and it was simply Boromir’s time to die, not Faramir’s.

Mablung reached down and unlaced his breeches, then shoved them down past his ankles in one swift, almost angry motion. “Let me say it again,” he whispered as he laid back and pulled Faramir on top of him. “I love you. Till my dying day, I will love no one but you.”

A soft moan fell from Faramir’s lips as he felt Mablung’s hard flesh against his thigh, and as always, his own body responded. He was hard and aching in no time at all, leaning over his lover and kissing him, kissing his face, his neck, his hair, and Gods, his lips…Faramir loved Mablung’s lips. “I’m sorry,” he whispered between kisses even as he rocked his hips and brought their erections together in his fist. “I just get scared when I dream about him, and…”

“I know.” Mablung’s fingers tangled with Faramir’s around their lengths, completing the circle of their hands and causing them both to whimper with pleasure. “Don’t talk…just show me.”

Faramir nodded and positioned himself between Mablung’s legs, which immediately spread wide in invitation. Sucking on two fingers to wet them, Faramir kept his free hand on his lover’s length, stroking him with long sure strokes. His saliva-slicked fingers slid easily past the guardian muscle before him. Mablung was still stretched and ready from their lovemaking earlier that morning and even as Faramir twisted his fingers inside the gripping passage, he felt remnants of his own release coating warm inner muscles.

Moments later, he was pressing forward, sliding inside his lover’s familiar tightness, sighing softly as Mablung opened up to him and shifted his hips to take him in deeper.

Since he was very young, Faramir had needed direction, something to focus on to keep everything else in his life from overwhelming him. When his father was cruel to him, he lost himself in his books. When his first crush turned away from him, he practiced with the sword Boromir had given him until he had blisters on his hands and every muscle in his body ached. And now, with his beloved brother’s death on top of the war raging around them, he lost himself inside of the safety and warmth Mablung offered him so freely.

He began to thrust as Mablung’s hand came up to gently cup his face and the lips he loved kissing smiled up at him. As he looked down at his lover, he felt his heart swell with love and a fierce possessiveness that he’d never felt with anyone else in all his life. “Gods, I love you,” he murmured as he leaned down and sealed their mouths together. His hand snaked between them and his fingers wrapped around Mablung’s dripping length, stroking in time with each deep thrust.

Mablung was holding on to Faramir’s shoulders so tightly, there would be bruises the next day, but that was fine with them both – if it took strong hands to hold him and a willing body to yield to him, then Mablung was prepared to offer as much, for he loved Faramir with every fiber of his being. “Come with me, my captain,” he whispered as his hips arched up from the blanket to meet his lover’s movements.

Faramir needed no further encouragement and leaned back so he could thrust in harder and deeper, slamming into the tiny bundle of nerves hidden deep inside Mablung’s tightness.

They came together, with Mablung pulling Faramir down to kiss him again, muffling both their cries as they both found their releases, Faramir’s filling his lover’s passage and Mablung’s coating the hand that was still moving so expertly over him.

Mindless of the mess between them, Faramir lowered himself and lay down on top of the man he loved, smiling when Mablung’s arms wrapped around him and held him still.

“I’m sorry,” Faramir whispered. “I do love you…I do want to be here with you.”

“I can’t stop the dreams,” Mablung said, pressing a kiss against the top of Faramir’s head, “and I can’t make you stop wishing you had switched places with your brother but I can always just remind you how much I need you here.”

Faramir sighed and closed his eyes, concentrating on the steady heartbeat beneath his ear. “Just don’t stop telling me,” he pleaded softly. “Don’t let me forget.”

Mablung almost crushed Faramir against him as he closed his eyes and swallowed back the lump in his throat. “I’ll never let you forget, love, I promise.”

Over the next few weeks, Mablung held true to his promise, reminding Faramir often, especially in the days after Denethor’s death. And though it took Faramir a few more years to stop dreaming of his brother, he did, in the meantime, learn to believe in the permanency of things like happiness and laughter and somehow being able to move past his grief. And love. Most of all, Faramir began to believe in love.

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