Faramir Fiction Archive

Bring On the Good Times (PG-13)

Written by Kissa

16 March 2008 | 549 words

Note: written for the 25fluffyfics community on LJ. Prompt Home.

---

Faramir stood on the highest point of the White City, in the small courtyard around the White Tree. His City had been nearly turned to dust by the fury of the dark armies, and the Steward was happy and grateful his beloved city still stood, albeit crippled by formidable blows.

Many of his friends had lain dead on the steps and roads leading to the lower levels. Some beheaded, their heads used as projectiles; others had been crushed or burned; women and children had burned like mice in their homes, with no way out except right into the jaws of a Nazgûl beast. Faramir’s heart cringed and he bowed his head in sorrow and remembrance.

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder and turned around, prepared to salute his King. But it was not Aragorn who sought him.

“Beregond!” he addressed the other man, letting himself be hugged and relaxing into the embrace, his arms coming up to return the hug.

Ever since the blond young man had so boldly rescued him from the fire, they had become very close. They saw each other daily, went on patrol together, or fished together… Beregond sometimes stole cakes from the kitchen, as he was a bit younger than Faramir and his appetite for sweets was infamous; he was lucky though that his cuteness made the cooks look away when he snatched some goodies from the kitchen table, because everyone knew he was sharing with the Lord Steward, who rarely ate of his own will.

This time he had brought apple pie, and he gave the bigger piece to Faramir, who took it and bit into it absentmindedly.

“Thank you, Beregond.”

“Why are you so sad, Faramir?” the younger man asked, hand still on Faramir’s opposite shoulder, pulling him close to his side.

“I was thinking how sad this place is now. The White Tree is blossoming, the King has returned, yet I have lost almost everything I held dear. Only sad memories bind me to this place. Minas Tirith is no longer the enchanted kingdom of my childhood, where I played with Boromir; it is the place where my father only acknowledged my existence when he wanted to end it, and the place where I saw most of my friends die. It is somehow unfair that I should live to see all this and be the last one standing.”

Beregond could not find words effective enough to take Faramir’s pained memories away. Instead, he wound his hands in Faramir’s hair, bringing their foreheads together and whispering:

“I think this is a wonderful place. It is the place where I found you and fell in love with you.”

Shyly brushing his lips against Faramir’s, he drew back slightly, adding:

“It is the place where we first kissed.”

Although surprised, Faramir was wise enough not to turn away the immense gift being offered to him freely by his friend.

_end

Kissa’s 25fluffyfics

NB: Please do not distribute (by any means, including email) or repost this story (including translations) without the author's prior permission. [ more ]

Enjoyed this story? Then be sure to let the author know by posting a comment at https://www.faramirfiction.com/fiction/bring-on-the-good-times. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!