Faramir Fiction Archive

Ghost Dance (PG-13)

Written by Helmboy

13 November 2007 | 12496 words

Part Four

Faramir stared at Glorfindel, with effort keeping his gaze even. “A kiss.”

Glorfindel smiled. “A kiss.”

“That is your price.”

“For my silence, yes.”

Faramir bit his lower lip, surprise showing in spite of his efforts to control his reaction. Too many years dodging too many emotional bullets had made this moment jarring and out of sync. “You want a kiss.”

“I want much but a kiss will suffice.”

Glorfindel stepped back, folding his arms across his chest as he waited for the war in Faramir’s mind to cease. The young man was pale now, his eyes staring at some point on the floor as he working through his situation in his head.

“Why a kiss? What do you think of me that you should be able to ask such a thing?” It was a small anguished voice the young man used that spoke the words that greeted Glorfindel with surprise.

“I do not understand,” Glorfindel said, frowning slightly. “What do I think of you?”

Faramir looked at him, his eyes deeply serious. “Yes. What do you think of me?”

Glorfindel paused, suddenly aware that some vein had been struck, even advertently and he considered his words carefully. “All I know of you is what I see in my meditations and dreams.”

“And what do they tell you?” Faramir asked, straightening his spine, his expression becoming a mask of pride and defensiveness. His face was unreadable, his hair haloed with moonlight and misery clung to him like a cloud.

Glorfindel marveled that such a transformation should happen so fast. Then he cleared his throat and spoke in soft words, compelling the youngster to lean slightly forward to hear. “I see a young man in my dreams who has desires that cannot be met in his current life. I see a man filled with love and emotion and no one to give them expression beyond a brother who adores him and of whom he adores. I see a man who has a father who is so devoid of decency that he causes you to think unthinkable things sometimes.”

Faramir, feeling the blood draining from his face, turned slightly away. “Unthinkable things?”

Glorfindel moved to face Faramir again, his sympathetic eyes filled with compassion. “You have thought of taking your own life. More than once. Perhaps in battle.”

Faramir stood stoically, the truth of Glorfindel’s words falling on his soul like a cold rain. He did not answer so lost in misery was he at that moment but Glorfindel continued on, his voice gentle and soft.

“You can command men, even animals and yet you cannot command your father’s love. You wish to be important in his life and in the life of your people but he does not let you. It eats at your soul. I see it around you, a cloud of sadness that follows you. It only lifts around your brother.”

“My brother is my rock,” Faramir whispered. “I would have a difficult time if he were to leave me alone.”

“You look for other places to go, other people to meet when you do this,” Glorfindel said.

Faramir nodded. “It lifts me to be that light, that detached from the life that I live,” Faramir said. “I find it hard not give it up. The first time I did it I saw swan ships sailing on silver seas. I was so at peace, so unburdened that I could not give it up. Then I saw you. You did not see me at first. I was surprised. Others did. But you did not. So I kept coming to you, feeling your wisdom and your goodness. It made me feel better about a lot of things.”

Glorfindel nodded, fascinated. A thousand questions filled his head but he said nothing. Faramir sighed, shaking his head sadly.

“I am sorry for invading your privacy. It was wrong of me but I felt good in your company,” Faramir said simply. He glanced up and paused, entranced by the sympathy and kindness he met in the elf eyes. Glorfindel smiled slightly and nodded. Faramir, suddenly feeling exhausted walked to the chair and sat. He rubbed his face with his hands. “There are drawbacks besides going where I should not be. I can foretell things that might be coming. I feel anxiety over my brother. Perhaps it was better when I did not know.”

Glorfindel walked to his chair and sat, reaching out and taking one of Faramir’s hands. “Whether or not you know things they will happen as they may. You were only seeking happiness and respite.”

“Perhaps,” Faramir said, sighing. “I cannot allow my father to know. He would be all over this matter and it would mean the end of Gondor.”

“Then he shall not know. In the spring, I shall come to Gondor and you will give me the books for safekeeping. I will keep them here. We are protected,” he said, caressing Faramir’s hand. “The Enemy cannot reach them here and your father will never come to this land.”

Faramir looked at him, his eyes less sad and his demeanor more hopeful. “You can do that?”

“I can,” Glorfindel said, shrugging. “I have not been to Gondor in ages. Literally.”

Faramir chuckled in spite of himself. Then his expression turned thoughtful. “You wanted a bounty for your silence.”

Glorfindel smiled and rose, pulling Faramir to his feet. “I do not take bounties that are not freely given.”

Faramir’s expression became serious, his eyes dark with emotion. “I give freely to you that which you will, my Lord Glorfindel. Of this you are owed for my transgressions.”

Glorfindel smiled and shook his head. “I enjoyed your presence, Faramir of Gondor. It is not often one of my years and experience is surprised,” he said, moving closer. Their chests nearly touched when Glorfindel leaned forward, pressing his lips against Faramir’s. He felt the younger man’s lashes brush his skin as he closed his eyes, a soft fluttering sensation that thrilled him. Faramir slipped his arms around Glorfindel’s waist, falling into the kiss. Glorfindel, pulling Faramir toward him, kissed him back and when they broke from it both were more than paid for their trouble.

“You kiss well for a man,” Glorfindel said, his hands resting on Faramir’s shoulders.

Faramir chuckled. “You may take your bounty of me anytime.”

“Ah, that’s the attitude,” he said, pulling Faramir into his arms once more.

They rode from the great house, making their way back to Gondor. The meeting had been productive and the winter, which would lay a blanket of snow on their comings and goings would put end to further meetings until the spring. Standing beside Lord Elrond Glorfindel watched Faramir leave, pausing only long enough to turn in the saddle and wave. He waved back and smiled, calculating the number of days it would take for him to last through the winter and ride to Gondor in the spring. It was many and so he resigned himself to nagging Erestor and serving the youngster by his side, Elrond. They turned and walked back to the house.

“Are you going to tell me of your adventures?” Elrond said, smiling at his mentor and friend.

Glorfindel smiled. “I am preparing a rousing version of my story, embellished here and there to make it even better than it was, my friend. You must give me time. You cannot rush an artist.”

“So I am told,” Elrond replied with a grin.

Many months later

“So you are leaving the sanctuary of this place and riding to man land,” Erestor said leaning on the doorjamb of Glorfindel’s chambers.

“That is so,” Glorfindel said, cinching his saddlebags. “Do you want to come along or would that crimp your dainties bouncing on a saddle to Minas Tirith?”

Erestor smirked and shook his head. “I leave that to you and your own balls.”

Glorfindel laughed in spite of himself.

He rode through the gates, cutting an impressive figure on his white horse. Bells on the meara’s bridle tinkled a silvery song as he rode slowly through the town, riding around the seven circular levels as he made for each gate on his way to the King’s House. People, most of whom had never seen an elf let alone a lord of the First Age stared at him with something approximating awe and Glorfindel was secretly amused as he made his stately way upward through the thronging city.

Round and round through each gate he rode until he came to the place he sought, news of his coming evidently preceding him. Passing a withered tree he paused, remembering other times. Spurring on his horse, he headed for the great doors that led to the inner sanctum of Gondor’s seat of power. Glorfindel dismounted and was lead inside by a guard. His scarlet uniform was vaguely familiar from older and better days. He paused, taking in the scene and then walked with enormous dignity and not a little ethereal splendor toward a crowd of men and women who stood around the Steward. He, himself was sitting on his small seat below and to the side of the empty throne of the Kings of Gondor. Images from the past filled Glorfindel’s mind and he pushed them back, concentrating on his mission.

Reaching the Steward, Denethor rose and together with those around him bowed slightly. “I am honored, Lord Glorfindel, that you have come to Minas Tirith and graced us with your presence. There are many in our company that do not understand that there is more to your people than the tales and fables that they have learned as children.”

Glorfindel smiled and bowed ever so slightly. “I am honored to be here. It has been many ages since I have been to this city and,” he said, turning and sweeping his hand around the room, “many is the statue in this room that was a man in my lifetime.”

Denethor, his expression hardening at the sound of a mention of the rightful kings of Gondor barely managed a smile. “That was then. This is now.”

“Indeed,” Glorfindel replied equally as regally. Behind Denethor and off to one side Glorfindel could see Faramir and his brother, Boromir, both standing side-by-side, the most intense expression of wonder and anticipation on Faramir’s handsome face. That expression alone Glorfindel reasoned justified the hardship of this trip. He smiled at them and more than a few heads turned to see. “I am here to visit with a friend, a good friend.”

“Indeed,” Denethor said, nodding. “May I inquire who this friend might be? Could it be a member of my court?” he asked, looking back at Boromir with a smile. Boromir, swallowed hard and looked tense, glancing at his brother who stood silently.

“It is,” Glorfindel replied. “My good friend invited me to Gondor last year and I am very, very happy to come.”

“Ah,” Denethor said, understanding bringing a smile and relaxation to his body. “I will have him escort you to chambers then.” He turned. “Boromir, will you do the honors?”

Boromir, startled, dropped his hands to his side, staring from his father to his brother and back again.

“I am afraid, Lord Denethor, I was neglectful in being more explicit. My good and great friend is your other son, Lord Faramir.” He turned and bowed slightly in Boromir’s direction. “No offense, Lord Boromir.”

“None taken,” Boromir said with a smile. He turned and nudged Faramir, who started and stepped forward, taking Glorfindel’s saddlebags from him.

Glorfindel smiled, nodding to all including Denethor and then followed Faramir from the room. Winding up stairs and through corridors, they made their way to the quarters given over to visiting dignitaries. When the door closed, Faramir dropped the bags and turned, gripping Glorfindel in a bear hug. He hugged and hugged the older man, finally letting him go. Holding him by the shoulders, Faramir’s face was alight with happiness. “You came,” he whispered.

“I came,” Glorfindel replied. “I said I would.”

“You did,” Faramir said, grinning broadly.

“Your father was shocked,” Glorfindel said, looking doubtfully at Faramir.

Faramir just shook his head and smiled. “Do not worry yourself over him. I shall never forget his face as long as I live.”

Glorfindel grinned. “Good. It is worth the journey then.”

“You will never know how much,” Faramir said his voice filled with gratitude. For a moment he stood silently, the gratitude he felt overpowering him and then he stepped forward, embracing Glorfindel and kissing him. Glorfindel enclosed Faramir in his arms, kissing him back, all the trials of the journey fading away. As he held Faramir he heard a sound by the door. They broke the kiss and turned, meeting the deeply embarrassed gaze of Boromir. He shifted his feet and then cleared his throat. “Dinner… um, dinner is ready.” Then he turned and hurried out the door.

Faramir, blushing with his own embarrassment stood with his arms around Glorfindel. The elf sighed and glanced at Faramir, noting his discomfort. “Good thing you are not a completely backward country or you and I would be betrothed.”

Faramir laughed in spite of himself.

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