Faramir Fiction Archive

Family Honor (NC-17)

Written by Mcguffan

14 July 2006 | 162886 words

Chapter 8

Aragorn was in a pleasant humor as he made his way back to camp. He had beaten his latest opponent without much effort. Though he took little satisfaction in the victory itself, he could not help but marvel that he was healthy, he had food and shelter, the sun shone brightly and it would not be too many hours more before he would once again be in the company of his very sweet Faramir. The sudden emergence of Halbarad the day before had instilled in Aragorn an especially keen sense of the reality of the great occurrences of this expedition. So much of Aragorn’s life was fragmented into disconnected shards. He moved from place to place and community to community with no true sense of a continuous home. Even in Rivendell there were so many parts of himself that had to remain hidden. There were a few people, though, who by their mere presence could knit together all the disparate series of incidents that made up his life and provide a sense of coherence and meaning. Halbarad was one such person and his miraculous attendance here just as Aragorn was discovering a deep and abiding love for Faramir struck Aragorn as great good fortune.

Trained to survive both the hostilities of nature and humankind, Aragorn did not lose himself so much to his pleasant musing that he forgot his surroundings. Approaching the perimeter of camp, Aragorn slowed to exchange a few friendly words with the sentry on duty. As he did so, however, he was surprised to notice that Gildel was pacing anxiously a few feet within the camp. Thinking that the young man on guard would be disinclined to banter with a nervous lieutenant right behind him Aragorn was on the point of quickening his step when Gildel himself hailed him.

“Strider, you’re back are you?”

“Indeed, good day to you, Lieutenant?” Aragorn would have continued on but Gildel touched his arm. Lifting a politely inquiring eyebrow, the ranger waited.

“You didn’t happen to see Flyn out there, did you?”

“I did not.” Aragorn answered somewhat surprised. He hadn’t remembered that Flyn had any leave time today. He was on the verge of asking what Gildel meant before he restrained himself. Flyn was not a model soldier but he couldn’t be really missing. This was probably just some administrative miscommunication. Aragorn would ask Halbarad if he had heard anything but make no further inquiry. He would just have to resist the urge to manage everything, especially here when Faramir would be willing to let him.

It took a visible effort for Aragorn to break from these thoughts, but any evidence of his wandering ideas was lost on Gildel who had already shifted his gaze toward the Gathering. Wishing, the lieutenant a good day once again, Aragorn left the soldier to his watch.

The sight of the young man before him, equipped with his newly issued short sword and buckler could not help but please Halbarad. It had been simple enough to fulfill Captain Faramir’s commission: Find Aragorn’s first round opponent and offer him a place in the army of Gondor. The most difficult part of the mission had been finding the youth. Having been eliminated so quickly Isu had not hoped to be sought after and instead had gone from tribe to tribe hoping to find a lord who had at least some care for his infantry. The lad had little success and had been plaintively pleading his case with a burly sergeant of the M’lik tribe when Halbarad found him.

The sergeant was having a bit of fun at the youth’s expense and it was with great satisfaction that Halbarad intervened. The thought of traveling to a strange western land, where everyone was rumored to have extraordinarily peculiar grooming habits, meant nothing to Isu as he accepted Halbarad’s offer with nearly pathetic gratitude. Halbarad did his best to leave the confused sergeant with the idea that he had just lost out on a fabulous opportunity before leading Isu back toward Faramir’s camp.

They had not traveled far before Isu’s curiosity got the better of his determination not to question his good fortune and he addressed his guide nervously. “Sir, why choose me when others have already achieved more in the tournament?”

Halbarad, who approved of curiosity in small amounts, hid his grin as he prepared to impress upon Isu the great honor and thus the great responsibility he had been given. “The man you fought in the tournament is a remarkable judge of men. Lord Faramir puts great faith in his opinion. It seems you are not completely without potential, young man and the lord Faramir wishes to see that that potential is not wasted.”

Isu was silent as his perceptions shifted to accommodate this new information. After a time Isu spoke again. “That tall stranger, he said I fought well?”

“He said you might fight well, if you work hard and do as you are told.” Halbarad corrected.

“Of course… I mean I will work very hard and do exactly as I am told.”

Taking his charge to the quartermaster Halbarad saw that Isu was properly kitted out and watched as the young man admired his new sword and traced the image of the white tree rather crudely drawn on the buckler. “You will have to wait for Lord Faramir to return before you may take the oath but you should get acquainted with your new comrades. An expression of fear replaced the look of wonder as the enormity of the changes that were about to occur in his life struck Isu with full force.

“They’re good lads. You will get on well enough.” Halbarad reassured patting Isu’s shoulder and preparing to lead him toward the center of camp. Before he could take a step, though, he heard his name called. Schooling his features to stillness Halbarad turned bringing Isu with him.

“Halbarad, I…” Aragorn broke off as he saw Isu accoutered as a soldier of Gondor. “You have been busy.” The ranger finally finished lifting an inquiring eyebrow at his friend.

“Master Strider,” Halbarad replied in the Khandrim language, struggling not to grin. “I was just about to show Gondor’s newest recruit around the camp and introduce him to the others. You two are already acquainted, though?”

“Indeed, I hope you will be happy here.” Aragorn responded, offering his hand to Isu, though he was still not entirely certain he understood.

“I will.” Isu responded a little breathlessly, touching Aragorn’s hand gently without grasping it. “Thank you. Thank you for being kind to me at the tournament. Thank you for speaking to Lord Faramir. Thank you.”

Once again Aragorn looked to Halbarad for an explanation and this time the other man relented answering in the Common Tongue. “You mentioned to Faramir that he might make a competent soldier and the captain wants men who know Khand’s language and customs.”

Grinning widely, Aragorn reached over and gave Halbarad a quick one-armed hug before returning his attention to the young man. “Come master Isu, let us see you settled.”

`Flyn was pushing things too far. This was serious business.’ Gildel fumed as he watched for the return of his fellow lieutenant. `Why did the fool have to antagonize the captain? It wasn’t necessary and if there were hostile Variags skulking about then there had to be unity among the Gondorhim.’ Gildel wished again that the lord Denethor had chosen someone else for this assignment. In any other situation Gildel would recommend that Faramir send Flyn home or at least demote him. It offended the career officer that he had to defend Flyn whenever the man decided to go flitting about without regard for proper military procedure. As Gildel continued to rage against his absent colleague he began to wonder if the damned glove could be worth so much stress and duplicity.

Questioning the Steward was the last thing a self-respecting soldier would ever do but in that small part of his mind that escaped the nearly ubiquitous blind loyalty to his Steward Gildel knew that Denethor was not aging well. Little things, nothing terribly important in themselves, kept niggling at Gildel’s mind. It was always a mistake to send a commander one did not have complete confidence in on a mission and yet that was exactly what Denethor had done. Also, the steward’s treatment of his second son made no sense. Faramir was not incompetent. Young, yes. Inexperienced, certainly. But the captain was learning fast. Why had the Steward wished to keep the true nature of the mission from his own child? It was all such an awful tangle. Gildel spat on the ground. He absolutely hated politics.

“Good news!” Flyn shouted as soon as he saw Gildel. `The man needs to stay out of the sun.’ The returning Lieutenant observed to himself. `That color can’t be healthy.’ “Gorm and Hilo’s chances look good! The men I saw fight today will be easy pickings.”

“Quiet down, will you.” Gildel muttered, his anger at the other man increasing at his causal delivery. “It is not supposed to be common knowledge that Gondor has two men in the tournament.”

“What’s eating you?” Flyn inquired, completely undismayed by the admonishment.

“What is eating me, you reckless little fool, is that the captain noticed your absence. He-”

“If he wanted me to go to another meeting, I’m glad I was gone.”

This attitude appalled the older man and he was momentarily sidetracked. “I would see you flogged for such dereliction of duty in other circumstances.”

Flyn’s eyebrows rose. He had not realized Gildel was quite this upset and while he was not alarmed he was mildly curious. “Calm down. I am not so indispensable that I cannot be spared for a few hours. Besides, we answer to a higher authority than Captain Faramir.”

Taking a deep breath, Gildel tried to focus on what was important. “The captain wanted you because there is a large company of Variags just to the east and he wants their number and position scouted. That is, if you are not too busy.” He had been unable to refrain from adding a little sarcasm to his explanation and Gildel felt a perverse satisfaction watching the insouciant expression slip from Flyn’s countenance.

“There isn’t supposed to be any armed men except for those necessary to impress the other tribes. What can they be doing?”

“Gather some men and find out.” Gildel answered with a tired sigh. “The captain wants you to report back as soon as possible.” Gildel turned away from Flyn then. He needed to find some shade. He drew a hand across his brow and took a few deep breaths, maybe the sun was starting to get to him.

Aragorn did not have the opportunity to speak privately with Halbarad for several hours. The two men had spent their time easing the initial awkwardness between Isu and the other men of the company. Isu did not know the Common Tongue and he was embarrassed to try and make himself understood with gestures. Aragorn and Halbarad taught him a few words but they spent most of their time encouraging the curiosity of the Gondrohim about the new arrival. The others would force Isu to learn and hopefully they would learn something themselves in the process. In the meantime Aragorn and Halbarad would be available to make sure things went smoothly. In any group there were always one or two who enjoyed the role of mother hen and Aragorn and Halbarad had made sure that Isu had a protector until the youth learned his way around.

“I doubt he will have any trouble.” Halbarad commented, once the two had left Isu in the care of his comrades.

“Mm.” Aragorn replied, filling his pipe. “I was not aware Faramir was actively recruiting.”

“Never have too many good men, as I understand it.” Halbarad had been surprised at how good it had been to present Aragorn with something pleasant.

“It was good of you to be so helpful to Faramir. It would have been difficult for any of the Gondorhim to find the lad.”

“Always glad to be of use.” Halbarad was obviously not interested in being expansive. Aragorn recognized in this reticence that his friend was unwilling to steal Faramir’s thunder and Aragorn appreciated it. The recruitment of Isu was both kind and practical, an idea, in short, typical of Faramir.

The two rangers smoked in companionable silence for a while before Halbarad asked after the tournament. Aragorn answered succinctly. “I fight again tomorrow morning. I suspect the numbers of spectators will increase as the tournament proceeds.”

“I want to look over the competition tomorrow. Hopefully, I can pick out the ones who might pose a threat and evaluate their styles.” Halbarad announced. If Aragorn was going to continue with this then Halbarad would help anyway he could.

“I appreciate that, Halbarad.” Aragorn replied sincerely.

“I know you have had little time here but Lieutenant Gildel was looking for Flyn earlier today. I had the impression he was missing. Have you gathered an idea about Flyn yet?” All of Halbarad’s observations tended to be insightful and the man had a special knack for rumors. Information seemed irresistibly attracted to Halbarad. People spontaneously told the ranger things that Aragorn could not find out with even the most careful questioning. When he had mentioned how much this uncanny ability impressed him Halbarad had only shrugged. `They are embarrassed to tell you the sordid little secrets of their imagination. You make people want to better than they are and with you, for a time, they are better. They tell me the gossip because I’m one of them.’ Aragorn disagreed with this analysis, finding it far too cynical an assessment but Halbarad had just responded with another of his unanswerable shrugs.

“Flyn’s a weasel.” Halbarad answered easily. “He is not much liked but neither is he really hated. I doubt he is a deserter- more of a flatterer.”

Aragorn smiled. “You are incisive, my friend.”

“Is he someone we need to be concerned about?” Halbarad asked trying to calculate all the ways in which Flyn could be a potential threat.

“I cannot say I care for the man much but I know of no reason to consider him an enemy.”

“I’ll just keep my eyes open, then.” Halbarad answered, mentally writing Flyn’s name under the heading `enemy’ and underlining it a few times. Aragorn was too scrupulously fair for his own good. Halbarad trusted instinct, his own and Aragorn’s.

“Thank you, Halbarad. I could wish you safely west of the Misty Mountains but I confess I am glad you are here.”

Halbarad concentrated on a point off in the middle distance for a while before he trusted himself to give Aragorn a grateful smile. The two smoked together, speaking occasionally but mostly silent, enjoying the day and one another’s company.

The sun had nearly set when Faramir found them. The young man approached diffidently, trying hard not to feel like an intruder. Aragorn looked so much at his ease and Faramir was glad to see him so relaxed. Perhaps he should come back later. Faramir suspected his lord had few moments like this.

Faramir was still poised on the brink of decision when Aragorn addressed him. “Will you join us, Faramir?” The ranger smiled at the younger man and gestured to a place near him- but not so near as to disturb anyone who happened to glance their way. “I would be glad of your company.”

“I did not mean to disturb you.” Faramir replied, looking to Halbarad to make it clear that it was the two of them he did not mean to disturb. “I- I thought perhaps you- you both- would care to join me for dinner. I made inquiries about the Variags. I fear I learned little enough. Though, perhaps you would care to know what I did learn?” That had not come out as suavely as Faramir had practiced in his head but Aragorn gave him that warm gentle smile that said louder than any words could that everything was all right and the world was a good place. Faramir’s nerves calmed a little as Aragorn accepted the invitation on his own and Halbarad’s behalf. Faramir led the way towards his tent, barely managing to restrain himself from looking over his shoulder every few steps to make sure Aragorn was still with him.

Faramir quickly blurted out all that he had learned from his inquiries at the Gathering about the large force of Variags hovering nearby. He spoke as though he were delivering a report that he knew was poorly researched and that he expected to be reprimanded. Several of those he talked with, though professing to have been completely ignorant of the extra Variag presence, expressed neither surprise nor alarm. Others tribal representatives knew the Variags were there because members of their tribes were merchants who were employed in provisioning them. One man speculated that the extra men represented some great nobleman who did not wish to mix with the common folk at the Gathering but that had only been a guess. Apparently each tribe relied on the traditions of the Gathering to keep them safe from any attack. The situation merited close monitoring and Faramir dearly wished he had Flyn’s report to supplement his own meager findings.

It was tempting for Aragorn to begin questioning Faramir in detail about everything he had seen, done and even thought since they had parted that morning. He loved being with Faramir when he was enthusiastic. The younger man had such a peculiar and delightful way of looking at the world that Aragorn never tired listening to him. Faramir’s insights were always perceptive and it pained the older man that Faramir seemed to feel that he had not learned all he should have. Aragorn wanted to reassure Faramir. He wanted to lavish affection and praise upon him and tell him everything he was doing was right. Especially, Aragorn wanted Faramir to know how impressed he had been that the younger man had had both the compassion and insight to begin recruiting native Khandrim to Gondor’s cause. For the time, however, he contented himself with a few words of quiet approval. On top of Faramir’s obvious concern that he had not done enough to untangle the mystery of the Variags, it was clear that Halbarad’s presence also had Faramir a little flustered. He had regained much of his old shyness and though Aragorn was confident he would quickly grow more comfortable he did not want to force his lover to be the center of attention. Aragorn, thus, resolved that he would do as much of the talking as necessary until Faramir felt ready to participate.

Aragorn guided the talk to matters he believed Faramir would find most interesting. This strategy quickly had its desired effect as Faramir could not resist the pull of new ideas. `The trick is to arouse my Faramir’s curiosity. Then, all self-consciousness leaves him.’ Aragorn thought rather smugly as he watched the rapt expression on his beloved’s face as Halbarad, at Aragorn’s urgings, recounted his impressions of Minas Tirith. The ranger was, naturally, an astute observer and Faramir was fascinated to see his City through the eyes of another. For his part, Halbarad was impressed by both the knowledge and interest revealed by Faramir’s questions.

As Faramir gradually grew bolder Aragorn withdrew a little from the talk. He enjoyed the sounds and the subtle inflections of the conversation without attending rigorously to the words themselves. He listened to the rise and fall of voices letting the emotions behind them become more prominent in his awareness. It was almost no effort for Aragorn to discern the curiosity, the occasional amusement and the solicitude in Faramir’s clear and honest tenor. In contrast to Faramir’s innocent straight forwardness, Halbarad’s voice revealed layers upon layers of protective concealment. The habit of hiding his true emotions had damped some of his expressiveness but Aragorn, who knew his friend well, could hear the grudging approval he was beginning to feel for the younger man. So caught up was he in this pursuit that he found he had to think a moment before he realized what it was precisely that Faramir had just asked him. He took a bite of mutton, considering how to answer. As he chewed Aragorn noticed that Halbarad, too, was watching, no doubt wondering what he would say.

“Yes, I have seen Minas Tirith, though not so recently as Halbarad and I used a different name while I was there.”

Faramir leaned forward eagerly, his food long since forgotten as he took in this new information. “And do you share master Halbarad’s opinions?” Though he was desperate to hear everything about what his lord thought about the White City Faramir’s question was asked almost cautiously as though he anticipated that great revelations were at hand and a certain amount of solemnity was called for.

“As a matter of policy it is always wise to agree with Halbarad.” Aragorn replied grinning at the other man, who gave a snort- not the least impressed. “I must say though that I have a higher opinion of the architecture on the second level and a somewhat lower opinion of what has been done with the gardens.”

“How… how long ago were you there, my lord.” Faramir probed, moving even further forward and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“It has been close to twenty years now but Halbarad knows the story. He may tell it if he wishes.”

Faramir turned from Aragorn toward Halbarad and though Aragorn could no longer see the younger man’s face clearly he was certain that it bore a look of desperate pleading. Halbarad regarded his chieftain a moment before he seemed to come to a decision. “Very well.” Scratching his chin, Halbarad turned his attention toward Faramir. “This tale should help to gratify your interest in history, young lord. For it could not be that the Lord Aragorn- even disguised- should travel to Minas Tirith and the world be not changed.” Aragorn rolled his eyes at this but Halbarad ignored him and Faramir did not see. As Halbarad began the tale of Thorongil and the battle against the Corsairs Aragorn once again leaned back no longer listening to the words but absorbed in the expression of his two friends.

Faramir clutched the table, his eyes riveted on Halbarad as though more of the story might be gleaned from the shape of the man’s mouth or the light in his eyes. Thorongil…Thorongil, there was no end to the wonder of it. Of course, later when Faramir had time to process a tenth of what he was learning he would wonder about Thorongil, Denethor and Ecthelion. There were personal questions, questions that Faramir might never truly learn the answer to but even as he was caught up in the moment of discovery, the young man knew that upon his return to Minas Tirith he would learn everything he could about `Thorongil’. It would give him a way to be close to Aragorn even when they could not be together.

Halbarad was in the midst of reenacting the Battle at Umbar complete with the use of condiments for artillery when the rattling of a spear against the shield hung near the tent entrance could be heard from without. Though the noise had been clearly heard by all present Faramir allowed himself a few seconds to hope that if he ignored it then maybe it would go away. The rattling continued, though, and bowing to the inevitable, Faramir called out permission to enter. It was with no surprise that Faramir turned to watch Lieutenant Flyn saunter into his tent.

“I have a report, Captain.” Flyn announced, eyeing Faramir’s two companions. Eru, one ranger was bad enough but now Strider’s was bringing more of his kind to camp.

“Yes, of course. Just a moment Lieutenant.” Faramir could not have expressed how bitterly he resented Flyn’s timing but he needed to hear whatever Flyn had discovered. “Gentlemen, I hope you will excuse me. I will return soon. In the meantime, please enjoy the rest of your dinner.” As he said these words Faramir surveyed the haphazard remains of their meal feeling a little silly.

Feeling all his self-consciousness return, Faramir rose to his feet and, as he knew they would, both Aragorn and Halbarad came to their feet with him. It was what protocol demanded but it made Faramir blush furiously. At least, as dinner guests he could leave them within the pavilion while he spoke to Flyn outside, Faramir tried to console himself as he gestured with almost frantic urgency for his king to return to his seat.

Faramir had nearly crossed to Flyn when he remembered something. Blushing again he hurried to his desk picked up several papers then hurried out. Flyn waited a moment after Faramir had exited, surveying the two scruffy men seated comfortably around the table of the Steward’s son. Denethor would never have tolerated such a thing. He did his best to give them both a menacing glare. Strider ignored him but the other one gave him a feral smile and Flyn suddenly decided he really shouldn’t keep Faramir waiting.

“He is not at all like his father.” Halbarad commented after he was alone with Aragorn. “Perhaps he has something of Denethor’s mind but I suspect Faramir’s intelligence is both broader and deeper.” The ranger amended after thinking about it a moment. Most of what Halbarad knew of Denethor was hearsay but he believed the Steward was clever rather than wise and he sensed better things from his son. “At least he has none of the arrogance.”

“It sometimes seemed to me that a part of Denethor’s arrogance masked a dissatisfaction with himself.” Aragorn mused. His expression was distant as though his thoughts had drifted far.

It had surprised Halbarad at first that Aragorn had been willing to have Thorongil spoken of at all and then he had been yet more surprised when he had asked Halbarad to give the details. As he thought on it though, he began to see more of his Chieftain’s reasoning. Aragorn had never particularly enjoyed speaking of his time as Thorongil. He seemed to regard his time in Gondor as representing a great personal failure and Halbarad suspected there were deep secrets there. Still, Faramir had soaked up the information regarding Aragorn’s history and connection to Gondor with such avidity that Halbarad did not doubt the young man would cherish the knowledge. Further, Halbarad as storyteller kept the narrative from touching too closely on the complex relationships that had existed between Thorongil and the Steward’s family. Finally, Halbarad had had the opportunity to experience the not inconsiderable charm of Faramir’s complete attention. The young man was a very good listener.

Before Halbarad could decide if he wanted to pursue Aragorn’s remark about Denethor, though, the other man broke from his reverie. “Did you not find him absolutely enchanting?” Aragorn asked with a broad smile.

Despite himself Halbarad smiled back. “I don’t think I would have chosen to describe him so, my lord, but he is not altogether unappealing.”

Aragorn laughed. “High praise, indeed! Don’t fret, Halbarad. I shan’t ask you to compose poetry in his honor.”

“I was worried.”

The two men continued to talk, falling into the easy camaraderie that never diminished no matter how long they spent apart. This time, though there was a subtle difference. It was so slight a change that it hovered at the edge of Halbarad’s perceptions for a while before he became aware of it. Aragorn was smiling more, his observations were free of the self-deprecating irony that he always employed when he was troubled. Halbarad himself noticed a certain easing of the tension in his shoulders as though a weight had been removed. Not understanding the nature of these little changes, Halbarad grew anxious until it occurred to him suddenly what was happening. Aragorn was happy.

It was just unfair that Flyn should be standing here in the increasing cold huddled by the dim light of a torch making a report while two men, who probably weren’t much better than brigands, sat in comfort. He had been out all afternoon watching the comings and goings of the Variag troops. He was tired and a cup of wine would not have come amiss but no, he was out here, nearly shivering, because his captain fancied his men rough-looking. It wasn’t fair!

“The Variag camp is to the north-east of our position. No attempt to conceal their whereabouts seems to have been made. If it were not for the hubbub of the Gathering we could probably see them from here. Of course, there isn’t really a lot of shelter around anyway. The land is too flat, and there are no trees.” When Faramir had no comment to make on this observation Flyn continued with a sigh. `No credit for being thorough.’ “Officers came in and out from the Gathering bringing some of the better quality food for themselves and escorting a few dancing girls but the troops stayed within the perimeter of their camp.”

“Could you tell what the men were doing in their camp?” Faramir asked, wondering whether the Variags were trying to be inconspicuous or whether they had some other task that required their attention.

“As far as I could see they weren’t doing anything. I think they may have brought in the girls because the men were getting bored.”

“It was not just that most of the men remained away from the Gathering, they stayed in camp? No foraging expeditions, scouting trips or anything like that?” Faramir asked for clarification. A sick dread had come upon him that the Variags were waiting for something, ready to deploy the moment something, what?, happened.

“I took three men with me and they all reported the same thing. Only the officers ever left and none of them stayed away long. The men had nothing at all to do. It might be that the Variags don’t intend to stay very long for the men have not even been occupied setting up a more permanent camp. Just in case they do leave in a hurry I left three of our men there to keep watch.”

“Very well, we will need to keep a vigilant guard and hopefully, with time, we may discover their purpose in coming.” Faramir finally said, the dread that the Variags were somehow seeking Aragorn a dark weight in his stomach.

“I have already arranged to have men always watching their camp.” Flyn announced, ready to go get something to eat then find his bedroll. “If there is nothing else then, Captain…”

“A moment more, please.” Faramir interjected suddenly brought back to the present. “I think it is important that I have an idea where I may find my officers at any given time. We are in uncertain territory and we need to be able to respond quickly to changing circumstances.”

“Of course, Captain. This morning I was merely monitoring to see our men were able to interact smoothly with the natives.” Flyn answered trying to sound sincere rather than bored. Faramir, though, did not seem to be really listening to his explanation but was instead offering him a few pages he had brought from the tent.

Curious, Flyn accepted the papers squinting at them in the dim torch-light. “What are these?”

“I think keeping a schedule of your activities will help you structure your time better and it will allow me to have a better idea of what is being done around camp.” Flyn just stared at his Captain uncomprehendingly. “I have prepared a lists of the tasks I would like to see accomplished and the amount of time each one should take. Please do as many as you can and put down the time it took you. Then, together we can plan how best to organize your time most efficiently.”

This had to be a joke. Flyn wanted to laugh. What absurd punishment was this? Faramir did not seriously expect him to keep a record of his daily activities. How was he supposed to get anything done with the Captain always looking over his shoulder. “Surely, the very act of keeping such a detailed account will waste more time than it could possibly save.” Flyn finally pleaded as it became increasingly evident that Faramir was serious.

“That will probably be true the first few days but after a while it will become second nature. I know this will help me get a better idea of how to allocate resources.” Faramir said, watching Flyn’s reaction carefully. He didn’t want the man to think he was angry with him but it seemed to Faramir that Flyn was the sort of man who needed a lot of structure and, as his Captain, it was Faramir’s job to see that he had it. “Give it a try and we will talk about it tomorrow.” Faramir added, for Flyn had remained silently staring at him. With a final encouraging smile Faramir turned from his Lieutenant back towards his tent.

As soon as Faramir returned to Aragorn and Halbarad he told them what Flyn had reported. In Halbarad’s troubled countenance Faramir saw his own fears reflected. The two made eye contact briefly and Faramir felt relief that his concerns were shared. “Perhaps, it would be prudent to abandon your quest for Gandalf’s glove.” Halbarad suggested, hopefully. “Or at least you might postpone it until we find out what is going on.”

“I don’t know how I would postpone it. I will either continue to fight or not.” Aragorn answered, not altogether pleased that Halbarad would make such a suggestion so soon after Aragorn had make it clear he intended to continue in the tournament.

“The gauntlet could always be purchased from the winner.” Faramir put in, timidly. “Or perhaps the winner might be tempted to take service with Gondor.”

“I think the winner might indeed be tempted to take service with Gondor.” Aragorn replied, smiling at Faramir. Then he turned back to Halbarad. “I am not yet ready to give up the quest. We do not know enough to justify believing this has anything to do with me.”

This was the reply Halbarad had expected but he had thought it worth the effort of asking. Though, it had surprised him Halbarad had been pleased to see that Faramir had seemed to agree that Aragorn would be better off forgetting about Gandalf’s relic. Perhaps the two of them together might eventually prevail upon Aragorn to take fewer risks. Bowing slightly to demonstrate his acquiescence to his chieftain’s decision, Halbarad murmured something about the lateness of the hour then excused himself.

“Are you certain you have everything you need?” Faramir asked following the ranger towards the exit to the tent.

“I am indeed, thank you.” Halbarad replied smiling a little. He was accustomed to making do with much less. “Good night, my lords.”

As Halbarad left Aragorn came up behind Faramir and wrapped his arms around the younger man’s shoulders. Sighing blissfully, Faramir turned in his embrace so that he could wind his arms around Aragorn’s neck. He could feel the tension of the day already beginning to flow out of him as Aragorn supported him. Faramir had enjoyed dinner very much and he admired Halbarad greatly already. The thought had crossed his mind several times, however, that while he was not actually in physical contact with Aragorn then he would always be lacking a key component of his happiness.

“I am very proud of you, my Faramir.” Aragorn murmured into Faramir’s hair.

The younger man, who had been happily rubbing his forehead against Aragorn’s shoulder looked up at these words. He wore an expression of polite inquiry, as though he had not understood what had been said and was awaiting clarification. The combination of intelligence coupled with so much trust shining from Faramir’s mild blue eyes silenced Aragorn and it was not until Faramir asked a question that he returned to himself.

“What have I done that you should say such a thing?”

“Dear one.” Aragorn took a breath and made a conscious effort to moderate his tone. “It grieves me that you should sound surprised. Are you not my kind, generous, compassionate Faramir? Did you not take pity on young Isu, changing his future for the better while at the same time ensuring that Gondor has a resource to draw upon in all future interaction with Khand? Are you not attempting to forge a meaningful alliance with those who have suffered under tyranny? Do you not always consider the welfare of others before your own?”

As Aragorn had been speaking Faramir allowed his head to drop onto the older man’s chest. Aragorn could feel the heat of the young captain’s blush through his shirt. “Why does it embarrass you to hear your goodness spoken of?” Aragorn asked raising Faramir’s chin so that he could look into his eyes.

Faramir’s face and neck were a delicate pink and he smiled a little self-consciously. “It does not embarrass me if I should do right but I am not so very good as your kindness makes me seem. I would not have you deceived in anything, my lord.”

At this, Aragorn had no choice but to laugh. “In time, my love you will come to have greater faith in my judgment.” Faramir’s protest had not yet formed upon his lips when the young man suddenly found that the world had tilted. With a quick movement Aragorn had swung Faramir up into his arms and proceeded to carry him, still laughing, toward the piled furs.

Faramir had to stifle a delighted giggle as he clung to Aragorn’s neck. The arms about him held him securely and the younger man felt that he was both safe and freed somehow from responsibility- as though, in some strange way, it had been a great effort to stand on his own.

Smiling tenderly, Aragorn set Faramir down gently upon the soft furs. While he was still bent over the recumbent form of his beloved, Faramir leaned forward to give him a quick, tentative kiss. The invitation had been made with all of Faramir’s most endearing and heart-rending shyness. And though, Aragorn’s response was not the least shy, yet it was still with the utmost gentleness that he pressed Faramir to the ground and covered the younger man’s mouth with his own, taking his breath and replacing it with his own.

Hungrily, Faramir opened his mouth to receive Aragorn’s sustaining force. His arms still wrapped about his beloved lord’s neck, Faramir did his best to pull Aragorn against him, wanting to feel all the older man’s weight over him. Partially acquiescing, Aragorn stretched out on his side letting some of his weight anchor the man beneath him. Moaning happily into their kiss, Faramir moved one arm around Aragorn’s waste while he clutched at his shoulder with the other.

Pausing only for the occasional breath, Aragorn continued kissing Faramir. He delved deeply into the other man’s mouth, seeking the truth of Faramir in the heat of his desire. At the same time, one arm curled around the younger man’s head, fingers tangling in the dark hair. The other hand moved over Faramir’s chest and belly. Aragorn could feel even through the embroidered cloth of Faramir’s shirt, the smooth, firmness of his beloved’s skin.

As always, Faramir gave himself utterly to Aragorn’s passion. He marveled at his lord’s strength and power and clamored for greater contact. He loved being touched. He craved the feeling of Aragorn’s hands on him anywhere, everywhere. His flesh sang for joy with the contact. With Aragorn, Faramir found unity within himself. He was no longer merely a collection of unconnected parts. He was no longer a body that hungered, a mind that sought, a heart that desired, a soul that yearned. He was a complete person who loved.

With one last searing kiss, Aragorn drew back a little. His desire for Faramir was in no way appeased but for the moment he was content to study the beautiful face before him. The younger man gazed back dreamily and pressed himself a little closer.

Carding his fingers through Faramir’s hair, an idea occurred to Aragorn and he sought to have it confirmed. “I think I know when the thought of recruiting Isu struck you. It was yesterday evening right before we met Halbarad.”

“Yes, it was.” Faramir responded, smiling up at Aragorn. The man he loved was very clever.

“Is that why you asked what you did then? Because you thought I might not approve of your idea?”

“I- I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not. Sometimes I have rather bad ideas. I was afraid that you would be angry with me if I tried something that turned out wrong. I would never purposefully do anything to displease you but I wasn’t sure.”

Aragorn’s hand stilled in Faramir’s hair, words of reassurance flooded his mind. He dearly wished to convince Faramir that such uncertainty was not justified, that even in the unlikely event that Faramir should displease him that did not mean he would stop loving him. Yet, had he not been cautioning himself about probing too deeply into Faramir’s insecurities. What if he brought out issues then had to leave before Faramir gained enough confidence to continue the healing process? The knowledge that there were negative forces in Faramir’s life from which he could not protect his beloved was a knife in his heart. Finally, Aragorn answered with a simple uncomplicated truth. “I love you, my Faramir.”

“I love you, too.” Faramir replied, nuzzling Aragorn’s neck. The words came readily to his lips for the truth of them had become a part of his awareness of himself. “I love you with everything that is in me.”

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