Faramir Fiction Archive

Intentions (NC-17)

Written by RubyElf

18 March 2012 | 26062 words

Title: Intentions
Author: RubyElf
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Faramir

Thranduil arrives unexpectedly, Arwen solves everybody’s problems before dinner, Eomer is looking for his elf, hobbits are unhappy, Boromir is annoyed, and apparently Gandalf has shown up with some plans for Legolas and Faramir that perhaps he should have asked them about first.

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Intentions – Part 11

When Boromir stormed out into the hall, the guards hastily moved out of his way, pointing down the hall to indicate where they had spotted the elf king. The man stalked off in that direction, now prepared to add disturbing his attempts to cheer up Pippin to the list of grievances he held against Thranduil. When he came around a corner and spotted the elf standing on one of the balconies, leaning on the balustrade with his head in his hands, he had already prepared a fairly thorough and extremely un-diplomatic tirade, but something in the elf’s slumped stance stopped him.

“Lord Steward,” Thranduil said, without turning. “I would recognize your crude stomping if I had not heard it for a thousand years.”

“At least people know what to expect from me,” Boromir snapped. “I would prefer being crude to being deceitful and a liar.”

“I suppose you think you know something about me, then, son of Gondor.”

“I know your own son avoided his home and his family for hundreds of years just to stay out of your grasp because he feared and loathed you.”

Thranduil straightened up and glanced over his shoulder, but there was more weariness than anger in his eyes. “Was that necessary, Lord Boromir?”

“That depends. Tell me why you’re here.”

“I’m here because Gandalf summoned me here. And if you wish to speak of treachery and deceit…”

Boromir almost smiled to himself. “Wizards have a knack for that.”

“He told me that my son had chosen his mate and wished to be bonded to that person as soon as possible, and that I was being summoned so that I might meet this soon-to-be member of my family and that I might give away my son in a formal ceremony, as the Valar consider proper.”

Boromir was about to laugh at the king’s misfortune until the meaning of what he’d said sunk in.

“Wait… but… Gandalf didn’t mean…”

“He summoned me all the way to Gondor to find out that my son… not only has he allowed his immortal spirit to be bound to a male, and a human male at that, but that the cursed wizard for some reason feels it necessary to conduct a formal bonding ceremony to make this union permanent and binding in the eyes of the Valar!”

“Permanent and binding… to my brother?” Boromir demanded, alarmed.

“Yes, to your brother!”

“But… Faramir… he… bonding them in the eyes of the Valar would mean he’s vowing to…”

“To have no other, as long as both of them remain in this world,” Thranduil agreed.

“This was Gandalf’s idea? I’ll have him thrown out of this city on his bony old ass…”

Thranduil smiled slightly, apparently amused by the thought. “Much as I would like to see that, I doubt that one of the Istari would permit himself to be treated such. I fear that I have little choice in this matter. If I refuse to give him away, Gandalf is powerful enough to convince the Valar to bless this union without my approval.”

“What about my approval?” Boromir demanded. “That’s my brother! I’m not giving him away to anyone! He’s the only living family I have!”

Thranduil sighed. “I am rapidly running out of family myself.”

Boromir snorted. “You have dozens of children.”

“I do not have dozens of children,” Thranduil snapped. “Of those I do have, some of them have chosen to join those elves who are tired of this world and sailing for Valinor. Celeborn has arranged to marry some of them off to partners in Lórien or Imaldris, apparently to secure Mirkwood’s ties to the other elf realms. The few who remain have moved to Celeborn’s new territory of East Lórien… apparently he wishes it to be a realm represented by both of our people. I had come here… honestly, because I hoped that Legolas and his bride might return to Mirkwood, and that he might prepare to become king when I decide to depart.”

Boromir raised his eyebrows. “You want Legolas to take your throne? I thought…”

“Much has changed since Galadriel drove the forces of Sauron out of Mirkwood, Lord Steward. Much of the darkness that lay over all of us has lifted. Legolas knows more of Middle Earth than any other elf in Mirkwood… he would make a wise king, and build relationships between Mirkwood and other lands.”

“What about Berendir?”

Thranduil gave him a sharp look. “What do you know of Berendir?”

Boromir realized he’d slipped up. “Err… Legolas speaks of him often.”

“They were fond of each other as children,” Thranduil said. “Berendir left Mirkwood several months ago with a few of my soldiers. The soldiers returned but reported that Berendir had refused to return with them. I don’t know where he is, or whether he is alive.”

Boromir frowned and leaned back against the stone wall. “Well, we must go and deal with this plan of Gandalf’s at once. Perhaps I can talk some sense into my brother… or something.”

“An official union, blessed by the Valar?” Faramir asked, watching Gandalf blow contemplative smoke rings.

“That is what I said, yes.”

“Why? Legolas and I had never asked for such a thing.”

Gandalf smiled. “You two are already irrevocably bound. Do you not wish the Valar to recognize your bond?”

“This isn’t about us, and you know it,” Legolas said sharply. “What are you scheming?”

The wizard shook his head. “Impatient and rude. Do you know nothing of political marriages?”

“What are you talking about?” Aragorn demanded. “How would this be a political marriage when only a few people in Middle Earth could know about it? It’s not like we can parade them before the kingdom…”

“Because it’s only a few people I’m concerned about,” Gandalf said.

“You’re thinking of my father,” Legolas said, eyes narrowed.

Gandalf nodded. “Thranduil is troubled, and he’s weary of this world. The darkness that lived in Mirkwood has damaged him more than any of us may know. I have spoken to Elrond and Galadriel, and we all feel that he should sail for Valinor as soon as possible, in hopes that the darkness will leave him in time once he is free of this world.”

“What does that have to do with Faramir and I?” Legolas asked.

“Thranduil fears for the future of Mirkwood. We’ll never be able to convince him to sail unless he believes that Mirkwood will receive protection and support.”

“From Gondor,” Aragorn said.

“If these two are bound to each other in the eyes of the Valar, and with their blessing, Gondor will have a familial obligation to support Mirkwood and come to its aid if it were ever in danger.”

Aragorn sighed. “What makes you think we wouldn’t have done that anyway?”

“It’s not what I think. It’s what Thranduil thinks. He doesn’t trust mortals, and he has his own reasons for it, but he knows that a vow taken before the Valar is a binding one.”

“If he sails, who will rule Mirkwood?” Legolas asked. “You know perfectly well I’ll refuse.”

“What about Berendir?” Aragorn asked.

Faramir raised an eyebrow. “Éomer?”

“Yes, but I highly doubt Éomer is as devoted to Berendir as you…”

Gandalf choked on a smoke ring. “Wait… Éomer… and Berendir? They are…”

“Fucking each other senseless at every opportunity?” Legolas asked.

“Well, they were,” Faramir said. “Berendir hasn’t had much to say about it since he turned up here.”

“Berendir is here?”

“Well, yes,” Aragorn said. “In fact, so is Éomer.”

Gandalf’s bushy eyebrows raised. “Hmm. This is not at all part of what I had planned.”

“Serves you right, trying to marry me off,” Legolas retorted.

“I’m trying to marry you off to the man you’re already bound to!”

“That’s not the point,” Legolas said.

Gandalf frowned. “I had hoped Berendir might be interested in your father’s throne.”

“He might be,” Faramir said. “I suspect that depends on Éomer.”

Aragorn shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry about that too much. I’ve known Éomer since he was a lad and first came to live with his uncle, and ever since he discovered what that bit between his legs is for, he’s been trying to stick it in everything that walks by on two feet.”

“Only two?” Faramir asked.

Legolas snorted. “If he was up to that sort of thing, I’d think the horses would try harder to avoid him.”

“Maybe they enjoy it.”

“Now, he’s a fine-looking man, but I think implying that he’s proportioned to satisfy a horse…”

Gandalf gave them a sharp look. “I am attempting to have a serious and important discussion that involves the future of both of your kingdoms!”

Legolas glanced sideways at Faramir. Faramir attempted to focus on Gandalf and tried to look attentive.

“If he was,” Legolas whispered rather loudly, “I think we’d have noticed Berendir walking oddly.”

Faramir utterly failed to contain his laughter. Aragorn made a valiant attempt, but could not prevent his face from twitching with the effort. Gandalf rolled his eyes.

“This is as bad as dealing with hobbits.”

“Not quite,” Aragorn said. “They haven’t interrupted even once to ask you if it was lunch time.”

“We’d have interrupted you to ask if it was time for something else,” Legolas said, “but you’re in luck… we already did that twice before we came down here, so we won’t be bothering you with it for at least another hour or so.”

Gandalf gave the elf a sharp look, then glanced at Faramir and raised an eyebrow.

“Twice?”

Faramir shrugged.

Gandalf sat back and spoke out of the side of his mouth to Aragorn. “Perhaps I need to spend more time among elves.”

Aragorn smiled with just a trace of smugness. “I married one.”

Legolas raised his head and frowned, listening alertly. “Well, someone’s gone and told Boromir… I can hear him growling from all the way down the hall. I hope you’ve got a good explanation to settle him down, Gandalf, because otherwise something’s likely to get broken.”

Gandalf threw his hands in the air. “Is nothing secret in this place, even for ten minutes?”

“Of course not,” Faramir said. “We have hobbits.”

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