Faramir Fiction Archive

Cedar and Cloves (PG)

Written by Mira Took

19 December 2010 | 7721 words

Chapter 4

Faramir drew a deep breath and let it out with careful control, waiting for his heart to stop hammering before he knocked on the door. He was standing outside the Blue Haradic suite that the sons of Elrond had been given for their stay, which had started three weeks ago now.

Faramir had come here to ask the twins to keep their distance. It wasn’t that they were always around – they were more often in the company of the King than not, and Faramir avoided Elessar as he had always done. The twins might even have been said to see more of Boromir than of Faramir, since they joined in the sword practice every day and were seated near the center of the high table for every formal meal. It was just that Faramir kept seeing them whenever he stole a moment alone. When he went to the gardens, there was Elrohir sitting against Faramir’s particular tree, looking just as at ease as he did on a chair in the King’s receiving room. When he went to the library, there was Elladan, leafing through a volume of Haradic history that Faramir had rescued from the Librarian’s weeding of unwanted volumes. At first, Faramir had suspected that they were doing it deliberately. Yet they never made it a point to speak to him. Elrohir would smile or Elladan would nod a greeting, and then Faramir would turn away and busy himself nearby until he could decently walk away again. In fact, the twins couldn’t be following him, for they were always there ahead of him. Apparently, they just enjoyed doing the same things he did himself, in the same places and at the same times of day.

Faramir took one more breath and then knocked on the door. He waited in mounting tension for his knock to be answered. Surely they had not gone to bed thus early after Hall. Surely one or the other would answer. Faramir began to consider leaving rather than suffering the agonies of waiting or – worse still – the embarrassment of knocking more than once. Like a schoolboy hanging on the bell on May Day, determined that his sweetheart should come down and admire the bouquet he had picked her… Faramir wondered what Elrohir would make of the May Day customs here in the city. He had always liked them himself, but they did require gathering rather a lot of foliage. Would Elrohir enjoy the carefree sneaking about? Or would he find it barbaric: ripping flowers from the ground to wilt in vases?

The door opened on a sunny smile below a pair of shining grey eyes. “You’re here!” Elrohir said, pleased but not noticeably surprised.

“Do Elves pick flowers?” Faramir asked without thinking.

“Pick them up?” Elrohir replied, taking the young man’s elbow and drawing him into the room. “We do when the blossoms fall.”

“No, I mean pick them to give to people,” explained Faramir, somehow not feeling in the least self-conscious about starting a conversation on this absurd topic. Besides, now he really wanted to know.

“Well, for that we usually put them in pots. Or even boxes. My favorite flower-gift came from my sister. She grew the flowers right inside a box of soil, you see, and talked to them just as if they were trees. So we put that box on our terrace, Twin and I, and I usually talk them into blooming well into autumn.”

“He does, too,” confirmed Elladan, walking in from the inner chamber. “Good evening to you, Faramir.”

Faramir seconded the greeting, feeling his self-consciousness creep back up on him. Not because of what Elladan had said, but rather because he had so obviously just come from bathing. He was wrapped in a loose robe made of a thick, cream-colored material, and his hair was wet. So was Elrohir’s, for that matter, though it was braided back and he was wearing one of the twins’ customary grey mantels.

Elrohir insistently drew the young man over to the hearth and pulled him down so that they both sat cross-legged on the thick Haradic carpet. Elladan came to join them, sitting sideways so his shoulder almost touched Faramir’s and his long legs stretched out towards his brother. He was barefoot. They were both barefoot and had slim, pale feet with high arches. In panic, Faramir said the very first thing that came into his head, “Why do you have a fire this late in the spring?”

Idiot. Graceless, blundering dolt. Stupid- Elladan started singing in a low voice. Faramir could not follow the words, though he read Sindarin almost as easily as Westron. Perhaps this was Quenya or some other dialect. It hardly mattered, for the words wound themselves around the young man’s mind until he could see two high pillars, rich with carvings, on either side of a hearth on which burned a bright fire. He could smell a scent like fresh pine-wood and hear other voices blending with Elladan’s. And then the song ended and the vision faded, leaving Faramir once more on a rug with two Elves, before a smaller fire.

“Fires are good for telling tales and for drying hair,” said Elrohir softly. “Here, Twin, let me see to yours.”

Elrohir came around behind the other two and produced a comb to run through his brother’s hair. Faramir looked on as the long, steady strokes began. Such tenderness in such a homely gesture. Faramir wondered what Elladan’s hair would feel like to the touch, falling wet down his back, and at the same time wished Elrohir had reason to comb Faramir’s own wavy hair.

“Who goes first, then?” asked Elrohir, continuing his combing. “Faramir?”

“Yes?”

“Why do they call it the Tower of Ecthelion? I know of two Ecthelions, the Elf of Gondolin and your grandfather, and I doubt that either of them built the Citadel.”

So Faramir began to relate some of the story of the City, safe ground for one who had read so much of his people’s history. And then Elrohir told a story about the building of bridges in Imladris, which Elladan countered with one about a jackdaw living in an abandoned mill, surprising Faramir with his quiet humor. That led to more talk, until Elrohir declared Elladan’s hair to be dry and Elladan turned around to kiss his twin full on the mouth.

The kiss made Faramir catch his breath. He was not conscious of any feeling of surprise or censure, just a yearning toward the twins. He wanted to hold them, closer to each other, closer to himself.

They came apart, Elladan moving to kneel in front of Faramir and Elrohir to sit almost directly behind him. They both regarded the young man for a moment from their different angles and then Elladan reached out to clasp Faramir’s hands and Elrohir unfolded his legs alongside Faramir’s. Elladan kissed each hand and Elrohir bent his head to kiss a place just where Faramir’s neck curved into his shoulder. Faramir inhaled sharply and stared at the Elf in front of him.

“Elladan, I don’t- I don’t understand.”

He had tilted his head to look up at Elladan, who leaned in to kiss Faramir’s forehead. The Elf pulled back enough to look into the young man’s eyes and then spoke softly.

“Twin and I have always loved each other in all the ways we could. You don’t ‘fall in love’ with someone who has been beside you every day all your life, but you do share things. We shared thoughts, and experiences, and clothes, and toys, and hugs. And when we came of an age to enjoy kissing and more than kissing, we naturally shared that too. I imagine it wasn’t all that different from someone who is one person learning about those things on their own. We are two people and we learned together. So we love each other, and we show it in many ways.”

“I can understand that,” Faramir replied slowly. His brow furrowed slightly as he considered the matter. Over Faramir’s shoulder, Elrohir gave his brother a look indicating helpless admiration. The man was breathtaking when his mind was working. “What I don’t quite understand is what- I mean, I know if you didn’t want to, you wouldn’t be- but where do I… where do I come in?”

Elladan moved in again, this time to kiss him gently on the mouth. “We’re in love with you, Faramir. We’ve always known – hoped – that there would be someone we could love like that and when we saw you, we knew.”

“All at once?” demanded Faramir with a stern note to his voice. He had never believed in love at first sight. Attraction, certainly, perhaps even a strong instinctual liking, but to use the word love for it…

“It helps to be about thirty centuries old,” Elrohir answered, with a smile in his gentle voice. “You’ve met a lot of people by then and you know your own mind fairly well, so it’s easier to pick your true love out of a crowd.”

Elladan, watching Faramir’s expression closely, could see that he was thinking over Elrohir’s answer as though it were a line from a learned tome to be compared carefully to the dictates of a larger philosophy.

“And we knew something of you before we met you,” Elladan added, trying to satisfy that scholarly mind.

“How?”

“I am not sure how to explain it. It was akin to the way you saw the pillars in Imaldris’s Hall of Fire. We recognized you when we saw you because we had seen you before.”

“We recognized you, and then we met you and knew for certain you were the one we love,” Elrohir finished.

Faramir nodded, still thoughtful. Then he looked up and met the eyes of both in turn. Elladan decided that Faramir’s courage was even more breathtaking than his intelligence.

“I do not know if I can say that I love you. For I am young, even as my people reckon such things, and I would not say those words unless I were sure I could say them forever. But, as to falling in love…” Here Faramir paused and then went on in a whisper, “I’ve been falling in love with you both since I saw you through that mulberry tree.”

At that, both Elves moved at once. Elladan reached around Faramir to clasp his brother’s elbows, allowing Faramir to hide his flushed face against the older twin’s chest and Elrohir to come up even more closely behind Faramir. The younger twin’s arms slid around him and then tightened, until Faramir could not have moved if he tried. The young man sighed a little and relaxed into that unbreakable hold.

Held and safe. Safe and warm. So warm. Faramir breathed in the scent of Elladan in front of him, with traces of Elrohir behind. Cedar and cloves. He could feel the strength of their arms, of their bodies against his. Held.

Elladan pulled one hand free in order to slide it through the hair at the back of Faramir’s head. He flexed his fingers slightly and Faramir made a small sound as the touch raised wisps of sensation along his spine. Just that one touch had him ready to yield completely to whatever the twins asked him to do.

Elrohir continued to hold him fast, while Elladan pulled back slightly. “Will you lie down, love?” he whispered.

Faramir nodded. Elrohir loosed his grip to help Faramir lie face-up on the rug, with Elladan looking down on him and his head in Elrohir’s lap. Voice also hushed, Elrohir said, “Tonight we just want to touch you, Faramir. Is that well?”

“Yes.” Faramir whispered back, feeling his heart beat faster in anticipation. His eyes darted back and forth between the twins. Then Elrohir’s hands were upon his head, thumbs at his temples and fingers sliding down to massage around his ears. Faramir’s eyes shut almost at once and his head lolled back against the Elf’s folded legs.

Elladan meanwhile was moving his hands in deliberate movements up Faramir’s body. He pressed firmly in each spot, his hands warm through Faramir’s clothes. Faramir relaxed even further. Then Elladan was removing his boots, carefully unlacing them and drawing them off. He put his hands around Faramir’s ankles. Faramir opened his eyes just a little to see Elladan smile down at him and then across at his twin. The young man smiled back, feeling as though he might laugh at any moment. And then Elrohir supported his head in one hand, lifted it, and used the other to rub strongly from between his shoulder blades to the nape of his neck. Faramir moaned instead of laughing.

As Elrohir continued, Elladan moved his hands from Faramir’s ankles up his legs and the young man discovered that he had a spot just above each knee that made him gasp when a thumb pressed into it. And Elladan kept pressing until Faramir moaned again, and again. Elrohir lay Faramir’s head back down and soothed his temples once more. Faramir moved his head – just a little, it was so heavy now – to rub back against the warm hands. Elrohir bent himself in half to kiss Faramir’s check. “Dear love.”

Elladan stroked his fingers along Faramir’s feet, finding some places that caused the man’s whole body to become boneless and loose, and others that caused shivers to run up his legs, his spine, his arms. Faramir started to drift and tried to open his eyes, to keep awake and feel everything that was happening. But Elrohir was caressing his forehead now and Elladan was cradling his feet as he touched them, and Faramir was too far gone to do anything but sigh.

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