Faramir Fiction Archive

I Cannot Wait (Letter #6) (G)

02 April 2009 | 1309 words

Title: I Cannot Wait (Letter #6)
Rating: G
Fandom: LOTR
Word count: 1210
Characters: Haldir/ Faramir, Rúmil/Orophin, Denethor, Boromir
Beta: The smoochable and ever so talented minxkat who truly makes the best suggestions. Trust me, you’re lucky I have her. :)

Author’s Notes:
1. Written for 10_letters Prompt: #11 Fire
2. No money was made from this. All characters belong to JRR Tolkien and his estate.
3. SUMMARY: Haldir’s plan is put into action.
4. Totally AU – follows neither bookverse nor movieverse.

Letter #1 · Letter #2 · Letter #3 · Letter #4 · Letter #5

It is working!

I know I only wrote you yesterday, telling you that I had a plan, but I could not wait to tell you just how well my plan is working already.

Last night, Boromir stopped by as usual. He asked me to dinner, and, much to his surprise since I have turned him down dozens of times already, I accepted. I dressed in my finest clothes, donned my most elegant cloak and brushed my hair until it shown, leaving it long and flowing around my face, forsaking my usual warrior’s braids to further entice him. I needed him to want to be close to me, to rush through our “courtship” so we could get this entire, ridiculous façade out of the way.

When I opened the door, Boromir’s face flushed with desire and I could tell – this was going to be easy. Whereas Faramir had acted as if he could not believe he had my attention, Boromir seemed to think it was his due. He touched my hair, my cloak, even my hand, and I almost laughed when he looked at me cautiously, as if he expected me to fall at his feet in gratitude.

Hardly.

I clenched my teeth when he put his arm around me and rubbed my back while we walked down to dinner, but I forced myself to smile as we entered the main hall.

Faramir was there too, next to Denethor, looking withdrawn, his gaze unfocused. I wanted nothing more than to go to him, wrap my arms around him and beg him to trust me. Just looking at him made my heart ache and my anger at his brother grow tenfold. But I loved him more in that moment than ever before, because he was there, not hiding in his rooms as I suspect many would have done in such a situation. As he nervously tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, my fingers itched to help him, and I silently promised him I would fix this if it was the last thing I ever did – that we would be together as the Valar had intended.

When he saw me, he offered a smile that warmed my heart and gave me hope for a moment…until he saw that I was with his brother. When his gaze shifted to Boromir, his lovely face crumpled and once more became a blank canvas. I tried to convey to him that I was doing this for us, and that his brother had not won my heart no matter how it might look; that my heart was still true to him – but he refused to meet my gaze. My dear, sweet, stubborn Faramir! I only pray he will listen to me when this is all over, and understand.

I did see Denethor give me a strange look though, then reach over to pat Faramir’s hand, reassuring him, I think, with both his words and his touch and telling him to be strong. Denethor seemed to see the strain in my eyes as Boromir leaned over frequently to whisper in my ear, and I believe he understood that all was not as it seemed.

Boromir tried to amuse me, but I was careful to look at him as if I was always waiting for the humorous part of each story, or as if I did not understand why everyone around me was laughing at his grand tales. In truth, had my arms been around Faramir, I would have enjoyed listening to the man, but how can one laugh when one’s heart has been torn in two?

I picked at my food, pretending to find nothing I could stomach, while he ate heartily the feast that had been set out before us. I told him I longed for a table filled with nothing more than water and lembas bread. I whispered that I never drank ale and turned my nose up at the brew he offered me from his own cup; brew he said was made exclusively for his family, and coveted throughout all of Gondor. I told him I thought it smelt vaguely of sheep’s urine and he quickly paled and pushed his cup away. I noticed him wrinkling his nose the next time he started to drink it, but I pretended not to have seen.

It was pure torture, being so close to my sweet, handsome Faramir, and being unable to touch or even speak with him. I couldn’t allow myself to steal more than a glance or two, since if Boromir noticed, he might catch on to my plan and ruin everything.

The few precious times I did look, however, Faramir seemed ill at ease, almost as he had during those first days when he thought I was mated to another, yet still pursing him. Gods, my stubborn, sweet, honorable Ranger! So pure, this devious little game I am playing would never occur to him. As they say, though, desperate times call for desperate measures, and I will stop at nothing to rid myself of Faramir’s annoying brother so that I might be free to be with the one I was made for.

I noticed Denethor hiding his smile behind his hand more than once as he watched us, his eyes shining with mirth, and I could only pray he is, even now, helping Faramir to understand what went on at dinner.

After dinner, Boromir suggested we go down to the practice fields. There were, he explained with great excitement, targets for bow practice and hay-stuffed forms to pierce with swords. My brothers, you should have seen his face when I looked uncomprehendingly at him and asked why we would want to do that when there was a perfectly good library just down the hallway, filled with books on the history of Arda and the lines of a thousand poets who had lived and loved within these very halls!

He excused himself then, and leaned over to kiss me good night. I thanked him for a lovely evening, and turned my head at the last moment, pretending not to see him, so his lips met nothing more than thin air.

He stammered for a moment, then asked to see me again, though this time, he did not seem quite as enthusiastic about the prospect. I agreed happily enough, then suggested we could spend the hours after dinner reading “A History of Hobbits” by the fireside while we munched on toasted lembas crumbs and sipped herb-laced tea. Not ready to give up yet, he offered to bring some pipeweed, but I told him I was allergic and would swell from head to toe if I were anywhere near the stuff.

Looking thoroughly put out, he grudgingly agreed to pick me up at my rooms tomorrow night and backed away, muttering so softly to himself that even I could not hear his words.

I went back to my chambers, asked Veritas to bring me all the leftovers from dinner and sat before the fireplace, smoking an old pipe Denethor had loaned me, eating until I could barely move, and feeling quite pleased with myself.

I cannot wait until tomorrow night, when he picks me up for our second assignation.

Love,

Haldir

On to Letter 7

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