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 6

“I don’t know what you two are so worried about,” Aragorn said, allowing Merry and Pippin to drag him along by the hands toward Boromir’s rooms. “He’s allowed to not answer his door, you know.”

“Yes, yes,” Merry said impatiently. “But we heard some… odd sounds. Somewhat concerning.”

“Very concerning,” Pippin interjected.

“Sort of like… groans,” Merry said.

Pippin nodded in agreement. “Pained groans.”

“And maybe a ‘thud’,” Merry added.

“And possibly… oh, hello, Berendir!”

The green-eyed elf had just come around a corner in the hall and stopped, not expecting Pippin’s enthusiastic greeting.

“Hello to you, Master Hobbits. King Elessar… I’m looking for my brother. He’s not in Captain Faramir’s rooms and none of the guards have seen him this morning. Although several of them did mention that there were two hobbits looking quite diligently for me yesterday…”

He glanced at Merry and Pippin curiously. Aragorn raised his eyebrows. “What were you two up to?”

“I suppose it’d be rather ineffective to tell you it must have been two other hobbits,” Merry said.

“Since you are the only two hobbits in Gondor at the moment, I suspect I’d be unlikely to buy that story,” Aragorn agreed. “What mischief did you two want with Berendir?”

“Why do you assume we’ve always got mischief in mind?” Pippin protested, looking hurt.

“Because you always do,” Aragorn reminded him.

“That’s not true,” Merry said. “We’re quite often distracted by food for considerable periods of time before we start thinking about mischief again.”

Aragorn turned to the elf. “We’re on our way to Boromir’s rooms, and we’ll ask him if he knows where your brother might be, although in my personal experience, if Legolas doesn’t want to be found, nobody’s going to find him.”

Berendir joined them on the walk to Boromir’s rooms. Aragorn reached the door first and knocked briskly.

“Hello! Boromir!”

A low mutter came from inside the room, followed by a loud exclamation of alarm. Aragorn, immediately concerned, turned the handle and pushed the door open, then froze.

“What the bloody hell…”

Berendir looked over his shoulder, and his eyes widened. “Oh, my!”

Merry and Pippin glanced at each other, grinning. From inside the room, they heard Boromir protesting loudly.

“Wait a minute! What… this isn’t what… what the hell are you doing, elf?”

“Me?” Legolas exclaimed.

“You’re the one on top of me!”

“You’re the one whose hand was on my ass!”

“It wasn’t!”

“Then whose hand was it, do you suppose?”

Boromir groaned. “Stop shouting! It feels like there are dwarves with pick-axes working on the backs of my eyeballs.”

“Ugh,” Legolas muttered.

The two hobbits squeezed their way forward, looking up at a bemused Aragorn and an astonished Berendir before peering into the room. Legolas and Boromir were sitting on the floor in their underwear, staring at each other suspiciously and looking very out of sorts.

“Should I even ask what that was all about?” Aragorn asked.

“I certainly don’t know!” Legolas said sharply.

“You were laying on Boromir and you don’t remember how you got there?”

“I told you this was your fault,” Boromir growled.

“My fault? My hand wasn’t on your ass!” the elf argued.

“I don’t know how my hand got on your ass!”

“Well, I don’t know how…”

Legolas stopped suddenly and glanced toward the door. “Meriadoc. Peregrin.”

“Yes?” Pippin asked innocently.

Aragorn glanced down at them and raised his eyebrows. “You two wouldn’t have had anything to do with this, would you?”

Merry snorted. “Of course. First, Pip and I snuck in here last night and poured a bottle of whiskey and several mugs of ale down their throats while they weren’t looking…”

Legolas and Boromir looked at each other guiltily.

“That part was most likely our fault,” Legolas admitted. “But that still doesn’t explain the rest of it.”

“I think that much whiskey probably explains just about anything,” Pippin observed helpfully.

Aragorn chuckled. “Arwen did mention to me that she thought I might find my Steward indisposed this morning. She didn’t specify that by ‘indisposed’, she meant ‘rolling drunkenly on the floor and groping the rear end of an elf he professes to dislike’.”

“Arwen knows about this too?” Boromir exclaimed, horrified.

“She is very observant,” Pippin pointed out. “And I’ve found that…”

“What’s all this, then?” a voice called.

Aragorn, Berendir, and both hobbits turned to look down the hall. Faramir was striding toward them, travel-dusty and smiling, his bow and quiver still over his shoulder.

“Are we having a meeting outside my brother’s rooms?” he asked, joining them. “Is there something… what the hell is all this?”

Aragorn looked at Boromir and Legolas, still sitting on the floor in their underwear, surrounded by scattered clothing and empty mugs and bottles, disheveled and confused.

“I’m not entirely sure, Faramir, but I strongly suspect that whatever it is, alcohol started it, and certain hobbits finished it.”

“It was Merry’s idea!” Pippin squeaked, unable to remain silent one second longer.

Merry crossed his arms and shot his cousin a dirty look. “You helped.”

Boromir glared at them. “I should have known you two had something to do with this.”

“Don’t be cross, Boromir,” Pippin said. “We were just…”

He gave the younger hobbit a look that silenced him mid-protest. “I am extremely cross, Peregrin. With both of you, you devious little pests. I suggest you both go away immediately, before I say something I shouldn’t say to you… and you know me well enough to know that’s more courtesy than anybody else gets from me.”

“But…”

“Pip,” Merry said, grabbing his arm. “Come on.”

He tugged a forlorn-looking Pippin off down the hall. Faramir stepped into the room, looking around with amusement.

“I’m suspecting that the hobbits weren’t the ones consuming all this alcohol.”

“No,” Legolas said. “I suspect most of that was probably my fault.”

“Oh?” Faramir asked.

“Well, I was the one who asked Boromir to… assist me with distracting myself from my thoughts.”

Faramir chuckled and held out a hand to the elf, pulling him to his feet. He offered his other hand to his brother, who grunted and closed his eyes.

“I think I’ll stay on the floor for now, thank you.”

“If I’d been here, I would have thought of less self-destructive ways to distract you,” Faramir said, handing Legolas his pants. “Your father isn’t here yet, but he will be in a few hours. I left some of my men to keep an eye on him, and I rode ahead. You may want to have a bath before he arrives… at the moment you smell like bad whiskey and my brother.”

Legolas flushed slightly. “Perhaps I’ll do that.”

“Ugh,” Boromir muttered. “How are you even standing up right now?”

Aragorn grinned. “Didn’t he tell you? Elves don’t suffer from hangovers.”

Boromir scowled. “That’s not even remotely close to being fair!”

“True,” Aragorn said, chuckling. “Are you still furious with me, or should I come in and brew you some tea and see about some breakfast?”

Boromir looked up at him, musing. “I think I’m still angry with you, but I can’t quite recall why at the moment, so you might as well come in.”

Faramir laughed and offered Legolas his arm. “Shall we? I’ve been on the road for several days… I’m in need of a bath myself.”

“Go away,” Boromir said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t care to hear about that sort of thing.”

Aragorn slipped into the room and closed the door. Legolas glanced at Berendir.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry. Go on… I’m just going to go back to my room and put on some clean clothes and braid my hair. I noticed you don’t wear the Mirkwood royalty braids we used to wear.”

“Haven’t worn those for centuries,” Legolas said.

“True,” Berendir said. “I was wondering how long you’d been wearing braids that indicate you’re… unavailable.”

Legolas smiled slightly as Faramir grinned. “Is that what those braids are about? They’re rather unnecessarily complicated.”

“They’re not made to be done alone,” Berendir said. “They’re designed to require someone to assist you. Preferably the one who has resulted in your ‘unavailable’ status.”

“At least I’m not wearing a Horse Lord’s brand on my shirts,” Legolas challenged, laughing.

“I thought it was a decoration,” Berendir said.

“Éomer apparently thought he’d better put his mark on you before he let you go,” Faramir said. “I’m assuming that means he’s expecting you back.”

“We… didn’t discuss that,” Berendir said, his smile fading. “Go get your bath, Legolas, or you won’t be ready when father gets here.”

Alone now, Berendir made his way down the halls toward his room. He was interrupted by sounds from one of the narrow side halls, and stopped to investigate. It didn’t take him long to find two hobbits sitting with their backs against the stone wall, Merry rubbing Pippin’s shoulders and petting his hair while Pippin sniffled and rubbed his teary eyes.

“Are you all right, little ones?”

Merry looked up at the elf. “We’re fine. Pip’s just upset because Boromir snapped at us.”

“I was under the impression he snapped at everyone.”

“Not generally at us,” Merry said. “But Pip… you know he does get annoyed with us, and he always forgives us.”

“I know,” Pippin said miserably. “But he said we were pests.”

“We are pests, Pip,” Merry pointed out.

“But if we’re just pests to him, and we’re not even that to anyone but him, what’s the point in staying here?” Pippin said, fresh tears spilling from his eyes. “Maybe my father’s right… what use are two hobbits in a city of men, anyway? Maybe we should go home and do all those things we’re supposed to do, Merry.”

Merry frowned. “Shh. Don’t say that, Pip. Of course Boromir wants us to stay here.”

“No, he doesn’t. He loves us, but don’t you think he’d be happier if we’d just go away?”

Merry shook his head and rubbed Pippin’s hair. “I think he would be very unhappy if we went away, even if he won’t say it.”

“He doesn’t care enough to say it,” Pippin sniffed.

“Don’t say that, little one. You know he loves us.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Berendir said, “from watching him with the two of you, I’m quite certain it would be hard for a man to adore two creatures any more than Boromir adores you two.”

Pippin looked up hopefully. “Do you think so?”

“I do,” Berendir said, smiling.

“Pip,” Merry said. “Didn’t we have some very important questions we were going to ask Berendir when we found him?”

“Oh, yes!” Pippin exclaimed, brightening immediately. “We were looking for you all evening! We’ve got some questions for you, Berendir!”

The elf bowed his head politely to mask his amusement. “Ask away, Master Hobbits. I’ll answer if I can.”

“All right, then,” Pippin said. “First off, I have to ask… when elves do… you know… things… with their…”

“Not those questions, Pippin!” Merry exclaimed.

“Oh, right! The ones about Legolas,” Pippin said.

Berendir raised his eyebrows. “What about Legolas?”

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