Faramir Fiction Archive

Lust for possession (R)

Written by Anastasiya

18 April 2010 | 3838 words

Aragorn carefully leant over a cot, looking into big blue eyes. Faramir’s son was already two years old and he intently sucked his finger regarding the big kind man who had replaced his father.

“You have grown up”, Aragorn whispered as he gently ruffled dark gold hair, “come to me and I’ll give you something much more delicious than your small finger.” He raised the baby and put him on his chest. Every time he did it, warmth filled all his being. It reminded him of the Warmth of somebody so deeply loved and mourned.

“Your father would be proud of you,” he whispered again squeezing a small hand.

“Yes, he is the living image of his father.” A voice rang out and Aragorn turned round meeting the gaze of Éowyn. “I so often ask myself why you are so kind to us, Aragorn. Or could it be something else? I remember that Faramir was in a hurry to leave Minas Tirith in that terrible day and I wonder why. Might all be different?” She approached them and Aragorn saw pain frozen in her eyes. Will it die away anytime?

Much water had already flowed under the bridges but they both still thought about that day. Aragorn thought more often. After Faramir’s death everything changed in his life. It was like suddenly the sun had died and the darkness had grown. And only one small light had lit up far off when Éowyn had said that she was carrying Faramir’s child. And hope had arisen in Aragorn’s heart – the hope to expiate his guilt. It weighed heavily upon him and at the same time he needed to display the unsaid love. Love towards somebody who would never return.

Faramir had found piece in royal burial-vault of Minas Tirith, Aragorn had wanted so. And every time he went down there, sorrow and despair overcame him. He hated these feelings but still couldn’t live without them, over and over again coming to that dreadful place and leaning over the deathbed of his Steward. He remembered as Faramir took his last breath and his face in that moment had been so sad but still the most beautiful. And Aragorn understood then how much he had lost, how many words he had not said. All his time with Faramir as Gondor’s Steward had been expended in jealousy and distrust and in the only moment they were close, he couldn’t even show his real feelings.

How many times he had blamed himself for delaying, for not finding Faramir to say that he felt so guilty and to tell him about his affection. And now there was no one whom he could say that anymore. Now Faramir lay cold and soundless, separated from the world that gave him so much sorrow with cold envelope of death.

Only the love of Arwen saved him all this years. Arwen loved him, perceived his sorrow and understood when he decided that Éowyn would live in Minas Tirith. He heard no reproach from her even when she saw how lovingly he treated little Elboron. For she always knew that their own son was everything to him, but that Faramir‘s son was his comfort.

Only one thing she couldn’t know – that every time he did it he thought that Elboron would never know his father as Faramir would never see his son.

So the years passed. The years of bitterness and guilt.
Their children were close, loving one another like brothers, and the hearts of their parents calmed a little observing them. But then, Elboron went away to the beautiful Ithilien to succeed to his father’s title and Aragorn lost sight of him for months. And at that time he felt more lonely and miserable then ever.

He was sitting in his study, deep in his papers, when a smiling form appeared in the entry, a form that look like the first one he had of his Steward so many years ago. Aragorn held his breath as hope took possess on him. Faramir was here again, young and handsome. The same kind, generous light glimmered in his blue eyes and Aragorn felt the mad wish to kneel before him and cry out all the pain that he had all these years. But he was not quick on his toes anymore so he stayed in his armchair expecting the beloved apparition to approach.

The expression of Elboron’s face suddenly changed into trouble. He rushed to Aragorn and knelt.

“Father,” he always called him so. It comforted and wounded Aragorn at the same time. “Father, I thought you will be glad to see me. Are you alright?”

Aragorn swallowed the lump in his throat. “You are back.” He whispered squeezing the hand of young man.

“Of course!”

“Forgive me for what I’ve done.”

Elboron looked at him strangely noting that the loved gray eyes were filled with tears. “What are you talking about, father?”

“It doesn’t matter, my dear.” Aragorn whispered quietly as he embraced young man. “Simply I’m so very glad that you’ve returned.”

The youth raised his head looking into his eyes again. All the worlds’ affection and love were in these known blue eyes, but it was not those eyes, not that man, and the same weight of guilt on his heart.

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