Faramir Fiction Archive

Simulacra (NC-17)

09 November 2011 | 30013 words | Work in Progress

XXIII

Aragorn leaned back in the time-worn leather armchair, stretching his feet out toward the grate. The fire was warm, his book was interesting, dinner would be served in less than an hour – today it was good to be King. With a chuckle, the former ranger realized that not one of these deeply appreciated comforts had anything to do with being the High King. Instead they were things that any ordinary citizen could – and should – enjoy. How much more satisfying than feasts or jewels. Indeed a fine day to be alive.

He looked round the high-ceilinged room with unconcealed satisfaction. This room was another of his innovations since ascending the throne. He had modeled it on Elrond’s many public sitting rooms and Hall of Fire – gathering places where all members and guests of the household might relax and interact at their leisure without concern for rank or invitation. Under Denethor, guests in the Citadel might go days without greeting their hosts unless scheduled by appointment or invited to preplanned festivities. But no longer. Instead the ranger-king remembered fondly the many hours he’d spent as a youth in Elrond’s house, watching Glorfindel’s warriors and Erestor’s scribes bumping up against Gildor’s Wandering Company and other honored visitors. Some of the most fascinating tales and most scintillating romances had come to light because of Elrond’s willingness to set circumstance aside in favor of affinity. And so it would be in Gondor. In this room the King and Steward might relax on equal footing and in equal luxury with traveling bards, political advisors, residents and guests. Certainly it had great political advantages in terms of both information gathering and cementing loyalties. Not to mention that it was so much more his style than hiding away in his own quarters, feeling isolated and bored, waiting for someone to call.

Thus Aragorn came to be lounging by the fire in this welcoming sitting room, watching shafts of late afternoon sun slant through the tall windows to kiss the books on the far wall. Perhaps they would light up the One Magic Book that contained All the Answers, just as Master Bilbo’s sunset had lit up the keyhole of the Lonely Mountain so many years ago. Or perhaps he had better watch himself before he slipped off to doze by the fire. Loosening of rank was one thing; finding the dotard king snoring in his beard was another.

And thus it was that Rúmil and Orophin chanced upon the Dunedain Chief as they wandered through the halls seeking a musician friend of theirs.

‘A, Aragorn! Mae govannen! We had been wondering where you might spend your free time. Now that we see, we ought to send Haldir your way. He’d like nothing better than to laze a few hours away in the shadow of these bookshelves.’

‘Indeed? I should enjoy spending time with your brother. And these books are always at his disposal. And yours.’

‘No, thank you,’ replied Rúmil. ‘I’ll leave the page turning to you and to him. My passions lie with my bow, my music….’ He gave his brother’s waist an affectionate squeeze, ‘…and my relations.’

Aragorn grinned. ‘So I had heard. I must say it is a pleasant change from the old days to see those who love one another not hiding in the shadows. Tell me, did my own brothers’ openness with their hearts precede or precipitate your own?’

‘A, perhaps their openness with their hearts did not, but certainly their openness with their bodies. Their visits to Lórien have always been, shall we say, enlightening? And not only for those directly involved.’

Orophin scoffed. ‘Those many directly involved. Also for anyone who happened to chance anywhere within range of seeing, hearing, rumor…’

The king held up a hand to stop the recitation. ‘Enough information, my friends. I get the picture I believe. I can only say that I shared both house and campsite with them for many years. I do both empathize and apologize for their, ah, exuberance.’

‘House and campsite, eh, Estel? And mayhap bed and bedroll?’ Rúmil’s eyebrow rose, questioningly, though somehow the gesture on the Guardian’s fair face conveyed far more mischief and less criticism than on Elrond’s.

Aragorn had thought himself too old to blush, yet nonetheless found his cheeks suddenly warm at the mention of sharing with his brothers. He shifted his chair slightly back from the fire’s heat. The brothers, however, were not fooled.

Winking, Rúmil suggested they move on to other topics.

‘Yes,’ agreed Orophin, ‘Actually, speaking of, um, dalliances, we have been wondering what it might take for our dear eldest brother to seduce your Steward into his bed once again. Have you any ideas?’

Mildly surprised at the forwardness of the usually soft-spoken youngest sibling, Aragorn chose to continue their ribald banter. ‘Getting tired of waiting them out, are you? Haldir’s unmet desires causing you to lose sleep?’

Rúmil flashed an appreciative smile at the comment, yet Orophin continued in a more serious tone. ‘Our brother has been alone too long. We had great hopes for his romance with Faramir. He became…different. He seemed happy for the first time since we could remember.’

Aragorn glanced inquisitively at Rúmil, wondering at the level of confidence Orophin was allowing him. But Rúmil merely nodded, sighing as he lowered himself into the armchair across from the King.

‘We would not share this with everyone Estel. We trust that you feel for Faramir as we feel for Haldir, and that we can discuss this with you. What my brother says is true, Haldir has always been everything to us, but until Faramir came into his life, he never knew love. We would gladly offer ourselves to him if what we have could soothe him, but it will not. Ever has he been distant from others, self-contained – strong and valiant, yes, but alone. We had thought it would always be thus, and our hearts have always ached for him, especially since we have found our own happiness.’

Orophin’s hand came to rest on his brother’s shoulder, and Rúmil reached up to hold it as he spoke, seemingly gathering strength from the contact.

‘His time with Faramir changed that. We would have that for him again. We would have him happy.’

Looking into the Galadhrim brothers’ eyes, Aragorn wondered how much they knew, how much he could say. What had Haldir shared with them about Faramir’s life? For that matter, Aragorn wondered, how much did any of them know?

Orophin had been observing Aragorn closely, watching his thoughts flitting across careworn eyes. ‘We do not mean to pry, my friend. We only want what is best for them both. And we wonder if you know the paths of Faramir’s heart. Will he accept our brother again?’

Aragorn took in a deep breath and let his dark head fall back against the chair. Another breath taken, released. He replayed the conversation with Faramir again in his mind. Was there any hint in that exchange? Or in his behavior since? Oh would that he could read others as well as his foster father could!

‘In truth, my friends, I have no idea.’

The elven brothers exchanged a sorrowful look and sighed as one.

‘That is not to say he will not, but…Faramir has had a…complicated life. And he does not open himself easily to others. I am afraid your brother’s last departure closed a door within him, one he has been unwilling to approach since, though I have tried.’

From the grim set of Orophin’s jaw, Aragorn knew they both understood.

‘We counseled Haldir not to come then, to ask Our Lady to postpone his service. He would not.’

‘Counseled, brother? Nay, we begged him not to come. We pleaded and threatened. We all knew it was a mistake for him to leave here, and methinks Our Lady knew it too. Yet she suggested it. It was a test. One that he failed, to everyone’s pain.’

‘He was afraid.’

Orophin shot Rúmil a warning look.

‘Brother, if there is a chance of saving our brother’s heart, would you have us keep old secrets to his doom?’

Aragorn broke in as gently as he could manage. ‘Please, now it is I who will be prying, but I would know what the mighty Haldir had to fear in Minas Tirith.’

Another long look between the golden siblings. This time it was Orophin who broke the silence, again speaking for them both, just above a whisper.

‘Our brother has also had a ‘complicated’ life, Estel, and he was lost to us for many years. Perhaps he and Faramir have more in common than they have ever shared. And that which makes Faramir hide behind locked doors sent Haldir fleeing for the familiar loneliness of our Northern Fences.’

‘He has finally found the strength to return to your city, and we have ridden beside him. Perhaps with your help, Faramir can find the key to reopen the door and meet him halfway?’

Aragorn gazed long at the two Guardians before him, whose worried eyes contrasted so sharply with their ethereal presence. He swallowed and rubbed his soft lips with a calloused thumb.

‘I will try,’ he said at last. ‘For all our sakes, I will try.’

Long after the golden brothers took their leave of him, Estel remained motionless, staring into the fire.

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