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 8

Éomer was waiting in the throne room when Boromir and Aragorn arrived, pacing impatiently back and forth in front of the tall windows and hanging tapestries. Not that his pacing meant anything in particular; both men knew the King of Rohan was completely unable to keep still for any length of time and generally preferred to be outdoors and on a horse.

“What brings you here, Éomer?” Aragorn asked, extending his hand.

Éomer grinned and, bypassing the hand, captured Aragorn in an embrace that made him gasp for air. Éomer released him and moved to do the same to Boromir, who took a step back with arms raised.

“No, no! None of that for me!”

Éomer studied him shrewdly, hazel eyes green in the sunlight from the windows. “You’ve been drinking.”

“That’s none of your business,” Boromir muttered.

Éomer grinned. “Just more proof that men of Gondor can’t hold their liquor.”

“And men of Rohan can’t hold their tongues,” Boromir shot back.

Éomer licked his lips. “But there are so many useful things to be done with a tongue, Lord Steward. Or do you need to be reminded…”

Aragorn stepped in quickly. “That’s enough of that. Éomer, Boromir’s not feeling at his best this morning and if you’re looking for a fight, I’m sure there’s a bear or an orc somewhere you can taunt for a while. Assuming you didn’t come here to torment my Steward…”

Éomer shrugged. “Just paying a visit.”

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain blond elf, I’m sure,” Boromir said.

Éomer scowled. “What he’s up to is no business of mine.”

“Right. That’s why he’s wearing the Rohan royal brand on all his tunics.”

“He needed some clothes, so I gave him some,” Éomer muttered.

“That wouldn’t have anything to do with your habit of not bothering to unbutton or untie a person’s clothes before you remove them, would it, Éomer?”

Éomer gave Boromir a sharp look. “I thought you weren’t feeling well.”

Boromir grinned. “Suddenly, I’m feeling much better.”

Aragorn rolled his eyes. “Boromir, why don’t you go and see what the little ones are up to?”

Boromir sighed and turned away, winking at Éomer over his shoulder. “Have fun with your elf. I’m sure he’s around somewhere. Elves are very popular in Gondor, you know.”

“Boromir…”

“I’m going!”

…..

Faramir watched with some amusement as Legolas turned his head back and forth, watching his reflection as he worked at the braids behind his ears.

“You know… I believe Berendir said someone was supposed to help you with those braids.”

Legolas flushed slightly. “Berendir occasionally fails to mind his own business.”

Faramir rose and came to stand behind Legolas, looking into the mirror over his shoulder. “You didn’t tell me there were braids that meant you were… involved.”

Legolas dropped his eyes. “Technically, they indicate that you’re… courting. Or being courted.”

Faramir chuckled. “And what made you decide to start wearing them?”

Legolas met his eyes in the mirror. “I wanted to.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I have never had the opportunity to wear them before I met you.”

Faramir raised his eyebrows, and his hands moved to rest on the elf’s waist. “You’ve never courted an elf maiden? Or… anyone else?”

“No, I have not.”

“You’re far from inexperienced, Legolas.”

“I didn’t say I hadn’t had my share of… encounters. I said that I had never courted anyone.”

Faramir leaned in closer. “Are you courting me?”

Legolas smiled. “I thought perhaps it was the other way around. It seems to be you coming to my rescue more often than not.”

“Hmmm. You rescued me from being alone.”

“That isn’t very heroic,” Legolas said, shaking his head.

Faramir reached for the braids. “Why don’t you teach me how to braid these for you? That’s how it’s supposed to be done, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so. Here… give me your hands.”

…..

Boromir rounded the corner heading for the hobbits’ room and nearly collided with a tall figure in long white robes. He had started to mutter something between an apology and a curse when he stopped in his tracks and stared.

“Gandalf?”

“No, the other White Wizard,” the old man said sharply. “Where is everyone? You’d think no one knew I was coming!”

“No one did know you were coming,” Boromir said, frowning.

Gandalf raised an eyebrow. “Is that so. What happened to the meeting I am supposed to be having today with Aragorn and Thranduil?”

“With Aragorn and… Thranduil? You know Thranduil is here?”

“Of course I know he’s here! I bloody sent him here! Didn’t he give you people my letter?”

“Not that I know of.”

Gandalf rolled his eyes. “You’re no help. Take me to Aragorn immediately. He is supposed to be expecting me for an important meeting with Thranduil this afternoon, and I am running late.”

“When are you not running late?” Boromir muttered.

“I shall pretend I did not hear that, Steward. Take me to your King immediately.”

Boromir smiled to himself. “Of course. Right away. Last I saw him, he was just down the hall here. Follow me.”

He reached the hobbits’ door and knocked briskly.

“Hello! Is King Elessar there?”

Several loud squeaks and a crash came from inside the room, and someone was telling someone else to put some bloody pants on, and then an excited scrambling, and then the door flew open, revealing two half-clothed and flushed-faced hobbits with disheveled hair. Pippin’s eyes were still a bit red, as he’d been crying till Merry had managed to distract him, but at the sight of Gandalf they both exclaimed delightedly and launched themselves at the wizard.

“Gandalf! We haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Ages and ages! Where have you been?”

“When did you get here?”

“Are you staying for dinner? There’s always something good when you’re here for dinner!”

Boromir chuckled and walked away, leaving Gandalf to deal with the hobbit onslaught. As he walked, he realized with some amusement that he was actually humming to himself, so cheerful was his current mood. Annoying Éomer had nearly cured his headache, and finding out that Thranduil had not come to Gondor of his own accord but on a summons from Gandalf had brightened his day even more; the Istari knew the Mirkwood elves well and was very fond of Legolas, and Boromir was optimistic that Thranduil was not likely to enjoy whatever Gandalf wanted to meet with him about. He smiled to himself and wandered off in the direction of the throne room to find Aragorn and deliver this interesting bit of news.

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