Faramir Fiction Archive

Ghost Dance (PG-13)

Written by Helmboy

13 November 2007 | 12496 words

TITLE: Ghost Dance
AUTHOR: Helmboy/Arctapus/Arcpus
CODE: LOTR, G/F, E, B and many more, R-ish, Fantastical elements, AU on some items, Humor, Drama
Summary: I am going through the prompts at Faramirfiction.com and trying my hand at the fun. I LOVE prompts and people’s suggestions and I like to try them to see if I can improve myself with impromptu writing challenges. This one requires Faramir to have some sort of skill that is not natural to man —nothing too extreme— that an elf sees and decides to ‘blackmail’ or in this case, rattle to the core in exchange for silence. My characters are Faramir and Glorfindel with lots of secondary characters and many locations. Thanks to FaramirFiction.com for posting prompts. This is for Minx.
Disclaimer: No profit, just fun. Relax, Tolkiens. I love you.
Feedback: Any written will be answered. Comment below or write to arcpus@yahoo.com or elwingdior@gmail.com. Thank you in advance.

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Part One

In a sitting room at Rivendell

“You look positively pensive.”

“Do I?”

“Indeed.”

Erestor, Seneschal in the House of the great lord, Elrond of Rivendell, paused by the doorway, considering the expression upon the face of his arch nemesis and oldest friend and companion, Glorfindel. Balancing the need to go forth and finish his chores or spending a moment or two in verbal combat with one of the more wry and humorous personages of the house, he found himself moving to occupy the empty chair across from said personage. “Tell me. The doctor is in.”

Glorfindel smirked slightly. “You wish to probe my depths do you?”

“No, but I will listen to your confused dithering. It is my lot in life to be your sounding board and I resign myself to it without hope or possibility.”

“Oh, my friend, the possibilities are endless.”

“Elevate, elevate,” Erestor chided softly, quashing a grin.

“You must learn to get down into the gutter sometime, Erestor. I promise you the only thing you will dirty is your mind,” Glorfindel replied, smiling with a wolfish smile.

“When they invent cleanser for such you will see me there but until then, talk. Get it over with.”

Glorfindel sighed, staring into the fire once more. “I have had dreams, odd dreams.”

“About what, If I may ask,” Erestor said, settling back and crossing his legs. His smallest finger contained more elegance than most people’s entire body, Glorfindel mused, watching. Erestor coughed politely. “Pray, continue. Some of us have a duties and obligations other than lying about suffering through angst-ridden musings all day long.”

Glorfindel smiled again. “There is a dream I am having in which I am not alone. I am also finding this happening during meditation.”

“You meditate?” Erestor asked, slightly surprised.

Glorfindel’s perfect brow crinkled slightly into a frown. “I do.”

“Ah. Continue.” Erestor gave Glorfindel his ‘I-am-listening-even-though-it-looks- like-I am-not-even-though I-am-and-would-cut-my-own-tongue-out-rather-than- tell-you-so-I-give-you-this-face-and-know-it-needles-you-just-slightly-and-gives-me- points-in-this-interminable-tourney’ expression, the one Glorfindel could never read properly.

Glorfindel stared at Erestor, flummoxed once again, wondering if whether he was truly listening or giving him ‘the face’. Relaxing slightly, pulling up his own game, he gave Erestor the ‘I-know-you-are-listening-even-though-you-are-giving-me- that-face-the-one-you-think-I cannot-read-which-I-cannot-but-would-never-tell- you-so-in-a-million-years’ expression. The one he hoped Erestor could not read, which he could. “I meditate often and when I do there is this person who comes into my dream state, the highly elevated state of consciousness that I so effortlessly achieve. Often. Without effort.”

Erestor snorted. “Continue.”

Glorfindel grinned, his piercing eyes impaling Erestor. “Chuckle as you must, my friend. I have seen places you have yet to experience and lived to tell the tale.”

Erestor nodded, conceding that to Glorfindel. “That is true. Is there more to this ‘vision’? Have you seen this personage before?”

Glorfindel shrugged. “No. I do not believe I have. He is quite comely however.”

“Why did I guess this was so? You have a… a sexual fantasy and you want me to play?”

Glorfindel looked up at Erestor, slight offense forming on his perfect brow once again. “If I wished you to participate in my sexual fantasies, Seneschal, I would merely ply you with wine and take advantage of your maidenliness.”

Erestor suppressed with great difficult a chuckle. “My maidenliness. You presume to know the sheer tonnage of mine own experience.”

Glorfindel smirked wickedly, leaning forward in his desire to hear more. “Do tell, wench. Is there something beneath your robes other than ice floes? Could it be that there are facets to your fridgidity would swell a man’s interest? So to speak?”

Erestor gave him a witheringly humorless grin. “You would love to know.”

“That is obvious,” Glorfindel sighed. “One can hope. But enough about you.” Erestor chuckled aloud at the remark and Glorfindel settled back, chalking a point to his personal scoreboard. “This person, he is tall and quite comely as I have said before. I do not think he is Eldar. He has the attributes of a man.”

“And they are?” Erestor asked in spite of himself.

“Well, his hair is shoulder length. It is a shade of reddish blond that I have not seen on an Elf before. It is quite lovely, soft and wavy, the sort of hair that one would wind one’s fingers through during the throes of passion and… well, you know. Your tonnage of experience I am told.” He grinned evilly.

“Continue,” Erestor replied, not rising to the bait. However, other parts of him were beginning to buzz and so he permitted the conversation to continue.

“He is broad of shoulder and moves with a grace that bespeaks Elvish heritage. That is what is difficult. Is he Man or is he Elf? That is the conundrum. That and the exquisite curve of his buttocks.”

Erestor snorted and chuckled. “Would that I should have known buttocks would figure into your fantasy at some point. You have said mine own buttocks have an exquisite curve as well. Are you the most fickle lover ever or not?”

“Would that we were lovers and I was not just a suffering soul pursuing without avail an ice princess who has no pity on my suffering,” Glorfindel replied. He sighed deeply and meaningfully. “His buttocks are as two melons in spring, succulent and ripe with-”

“You are attempting poetry. You have little facility for such. Continue in your meandering, yet endearing manner and I shall be satisfied. Otherwise, I must go and dust something,” Erestor said dryly, smiling a tight smile as he folded his arms in front of himself.

“Ah, is that what you call it now,” Glorfindel replied smirking delightfully. “Anyway, this figure is quite intriguing and from his apparel I am led to believe he is more Man than Elf.”

“What apparel?” Erestor asked.

“His tunic bears the White Tree of Gondor but there is an ineffable air about him that speaks of Elvish heritage. I see also pale skin and freckles. Do you have a memory that includes freckles among an Eldar of either sex or of any age?”

“No,” Erestor replied, considering for the first time the idea that Elves do not freckle. “That is intriguing. We spend much time in the sunshine and yet we do not freckle. I wonder why that is?”

“I know not. It is rather interesting,” Glorfindel replied, musing for a moment. “I have never come to that bit of interesting trivia before now. Good things, dreams. Anyway, where was I? Yes, buttocks. This creature has appeared in several of my dreams and now in my meditations. When I make the effort to speak to him, he does not seem to hear me.”

“You should consult Elrond. He has great knowledge and even if it is to put you on the pathway to perfect buttocks, he can probably help you find a solution to this admittedly strange occurrence,” Erestor said, rising and adjusting his robes. “I on the other hand am on my way to do my duties. If you had any, I would suggest you do the same. However, you do not so I cannot. I must go.”

“Go,” Glorfindel said, waving him off with his hand. “I will consider your advice.”

Erestor paused in the doorway, smiling for a moment before composing himself into his usual arid and unapproachable stoicism. “That would be a first.” Then he disappeared.

Glorfindel watched him, his brow marred with a slight furrow. “Since when, wench?” he whispered with a sigh.

A short time later that same day

They arrived at the House of Elrond dusty and tired from their long journey. They dismounted and their horses taken by stable hands as others led them inside. The party entered the beautiful home from the front steps, moving inside to a decor of venerable age and exquisite beauty. Craftings of stone and wood spoke of the enormous skills of their creators, the great Eldar masons and carvers that made this house many lifetimes of men before. They were greeted by the Seneschal of the Lord of the House and taken to their rooms to freshen up. As they passed through the house they found in its beauty and furnishings such warmth and peace that the trials of their journey began to fall away.

Boromir led the way, the others following and Faramir brought up the rear. His brother had been here but once before, coming on the business of Gondor, seeking the counsel of the greatest of the Wise. Faramir had only learned of this place in songs, tales and the reminiscences of Mithrandir when the great wizard would make his way to their home.

As he walked down the hallway, he came to an open door, glancing inside as he moved by. Inside, sitting before a roaring fire was an indescribably beautiful Elf sitting on an overstuffed chair, quietly meditating on some great problem. As he passed the door way Faramir looked and the elf glanced up, meeting his eyes. At that moment, Faramir stumbled, his mouth dropping open for a second. He paused, his startled eyes meeting the startled eyes of the beautiful golden figure, himself sitting more straightly in the chair as he gawked back.

Faramir stammered, words refusing to leave his lips and when he turned, heeding the call of his brother to follow, he stumbled forward in obedience. Boromir stared at him with a slight frown and slipped his arm around Faramir’s shoulders, marshalling him forward as out of the room stepped the golden man.

Glorfindel, startled himself, watched as the men walked on, disappearing around the corner from sight. He stared silently and then sighed deeply, a smile forming on his lips. Looking upward as appreciation and awe began filling his heart in a major way, he sighed. “Thank you, Lady. I owe you greatly once again.”

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