Faramir Fiction Archive

My Beloved One (PG)

31 July 2006 | 501 words | Work in Progress

Pairing: Faramir/Imrahil
Rating: PG

When did I first begin to love him?
It was less than a year before the War of the Ring, and he came to my castle bearing messages from his father, my kinsman. For the first time he came alone, his brother being away on some errand of greater importance, and he seemed troubled, as if something weighed heavily upon his mind and heart.
The day after his arrival we would have gone hunting, had his brother been there, but now we walked instead in the gardens. He spoke of things unknown to me, strange things that he had learned from the Grey Pilgrim, and his eyes shone with a hint of the same light that I had seen when last I met Mithrandir. Then he told me of the riddle that had come to both him and his brother in a dream, and I could see that this was indeed the matter that troubled him so. For he had offered to go and seek the answer to the riddle in the elven vale of Imladris, knowing that their father wanted his heir by his side, but the older brother had claimed the errand and would not suffer any other to have it. He told me how his father’s eyes had grown cold, and how he had locked himself into his tower, waiting for the return of his oldest son.
‘My lord…’ I started, but he laughed bitterly.
‘Nay, say not so, for I am no lord, I am but the younger and unwanted son of one, whilst you are the ruler of a realm. It is I who must bow to you.’
With that he half-jestingly bowed, and took my hand to kiss it in a courtly manner, but I wrung it loose and touched his chin, forcing him to face me.
‘Here thou art not unwanted,’ I said. ‘Even if thy father will not love thee, there are those who do.’ Then I embraced him and kissed him, and there was wonder in his eyes, and I felt that some place in me that had long been empty now was filled with pure joy.

Soon, too soon, he had to depart, but we met again many times that golden autumn, for the shadow in the east was growing, and though his father would make no move against it yet, my beloved one would often come to my castle, or I wold come to him, and we would discuss matters of war, and what ought to be done, and why his father did not do it. But when the dark talk lay too heavy on our hearts, we would leave the council-chambers to walk in the gardens, seeking half forgotten places where the wild flowers filled the air with sweet fragrance, and for a while we would forget the Shadow.
When night came, he followed me to my chamber, unseen, and we slept in each other’s arms, and the autumn turned into winter.

To Be Continued

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