Faramir Fiction Archive

Simulacra (NC-17)

09 November 2011 | 30013 words | Work in Progress

III

‘Don’t! Don’t touch me. Don’t say you love me. I have nothing left to give you. I can’t do this.’ Faramir jerked his body away, turning his back on Haldir and wrapping his arms around himself.

Faramir’s words had lost their power to shock him, but the intensity with which they were uttered had not. Although Haldir had heard this so many times, the fear and anguish in the young man’s voice still made him want to cry, to hold his lover close, to whisper to him that what he had was enough; that he was loved; that he was whole. But although Haldir felt his heart was breaking whenever these dark times came again, the reasons began to change.

At first he had been horrified by all that had happened to Faramir, had cradled the broken body close and been awed and grateful that the man had allowed himself to be touched at all, had trusted Haldir enough to allow him near when he had cringed away from all others. He had brushed red-gold locks back from the ranger’s damp forehead as he twisted in agonizing dreams night after night. He had kissed silent tears from the pale cheeks when Faramir had no words to express his pain. He had whispered words of comfort into sleeping ears, promising that he would stay close, would keep his charge safe, would never hurt him.

And as protectiveness had wakened into love, Faramir’s periodic doubts had still torn at him for his lover’s sake. Haldir wanted nothing more than to comfort him, let him know he was safe and perfect, and that nothing that had happened to him was his fault.

But it had been so long. He had been loving. He had been patient. He had been understanding – far more so than almost anyone had ever been with him. And still Faramir pushed him away, proving yet again his lack of trust in Haldir, Haldir’s own unworthiness.

Haldir’s breath caught as that bitter thought crossed his mind and his mouth tasted of metal. That was it. That was what hurt so badly. In continually cowering in his shame, Faramir was holding his pain like a shield between them, telling Haldir he was not worthy of trust. He was protecting himself, yes, but he was also lashing out at the one person who had made himself available. The one person who was there, willing and waiting to help. Maybe Haldir wasn’t trustworthy. Maybe he would fail. But by refusing to even try, Faramir was judging him, controlling him, condemning him. And the reputedly proud Marchwarden was standing for it.

This position felt too familiar to Haldir. Too easy to slip back into. He felt the heavily muscled shoulders of his warrior self curling inward, folding in upon himself, beginning to hide. He did not like it.

Something snapped inside the guardian, and he did something unconscionable. As Faramir tried to pull back and turn away from him, Haldir caught him by the shoulders, keeping them face-to-face.

‘Shut Up, melanin!² You’re hiding. You can’t do that from me. Not Anymore. I Won’t Let You.’

Spoken mere inches from his lover’s gentle face, Haldir’s quiet words carried the force of a slap. Faramir cringed and recoiled, eyes widened in surprise. Then his voice took on the placating tone that made others weep, yet set Haldir’s teeth on edge.

‘Please Haldir, I love you. I do! I just… I need too much time. Sometimes it hurts so much. I don’t want you to waste any more of your time with me when…

Haldir cut him off. He was not going to hear any more heart-rending excuses. He knew the next words. They had been here before.

‘Fárea!¹ Stop. I will be the judge of whether you have anything left to give, whether you are worth my time and my love. And I will not hear any more excuses.’

How could he tell the edan the truth — that he had to save him, if only because he was alive today because of Faramir? That he had returned from the brink of death only because he knew Faramir would one day be? Would need him? Would save him again? To say Faramir did not merit his time and love meant his own life was worthless. He could not go there again. Please no.

In a sudden motion drawn from years of battle training, Haldir reached forward with one large square hand and grabbed Faramir by the throat, as one might a snake. His iron grip wrapped around the man’s neck, leaving the calloused thumb to rasp a gentle but meaningful stroke across the sensitive windpipe and skin, the promise of a threat.

Ithilien’s Captain inhaled sharply and froze, lips parted and eyes rolled back to watch his captor warily. Neither moved for a long moment. Deep in the shadows of Faramir’s mind, something stirred.

Haldir’s grip loosened slightly as he leaned forward to brush his lips across those of the trembling young man. Faramir’s eyes closed and his shoulders eased slightly with the kiss. It was okay. Familiar territory. Nothing had changed.

Haldir ended the kiss but did not pull his face away. They were close enough that fluttering eyelashes brushed one another. He now held Faramir only by fingertips and thumb hooked under his jawbone. And he noted that, although the lean body – a mere child by elven standards – shook with tension, the Ranger’s jaw held firm, muscles taut. Haldir slid the other hand down his lover’s arm to tangle their long fingers. Two archers’ hands, entwined. Strong. Calloused. Neither one shaking.

Faramir exhaled whispered words in the air between their faces.

‘I’m not worthy of your love Haldir. I don’t deserve this.’

‘Bullshit.’

Haldir’s response was no louder, but the sound vibrated the air between them like that of an unseen hunting knife drawn with deadly purpose across a sharpening stone.

‘Stop Lying Faramir. What you mean is you’re not willing to take my love, or give yours in return. You are refusing to be involved with me. That’s you making a choice. You’re not being forced anymore. They are all dead – Dead!’

‘Stop playing victim when what you’re really doing is grabbing the ultimate control in this relationship, acting the coward to hide your own power. If you mean to reject me, say it. Don’t lie to me. That is cowardly.’

Faramir jerked back as if slapped. He had opened his mouth to speak, to deny — and then froze, eyes wide. No words on his tongue could answer Haldir’s accusation. No response in his mind could be spoken aloud. His heart was gripped by ice at such complete and total exposure. Cold twisted up his spine and reached outward. It was the truth. It was not all of the truth. But it was true nonetheless.

Yet there burned a single finger of steely flame. His mind’s eye registered two images of himself, side by side, as he so often did. One crouched upon the floor, arms over his head, shaking and denying the words, protecting.

The other standing quietly beside him, silent and watching. Always watching. A tall slim Ranger, mouth grim, eyes hard, unflinching, knowing. That one had been there almost as long as the other, although few looked for him because they thought they saw through him to the cowering one. A trick of their perception. Or of his presentation. Perhaps this was the real secret.

And that self would meet the sharp eye of his elven counterpart in a deep warrior’s greeting, with a subtle nod in recognition that honest words had finally been spoken between them.

The game was up.

Silence stretched between Faramir and Haldir.

Tempest gray eyes met the hard blue of a deep and icy lake. A glare of challenge and of answer. Hard-won respect. And relief. It was finished.

‘I think at last we understand one another.’

‘One to another.’

¹ Fárea – Enough

² Melanin – My love

NB: Please do not distribute (by any means, including email) or repost this story (including translations) without the author's prior permission. [ more ]

Enjoyed this story? Then be sure to let the author know by posting a comment at https://www.faramirfiction.com/fiction/simulacra. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!