Faramir Fiction Archive

Someday (NC-17)

Written by Khylea

19 December 2010 | 13778 words

Title: Someday
Author: Khylea
Rating: NC-17 for graphic sex
Pairing: Faramir/Elrond/Glorfindel
Time line: Main body of the story: About 15 years before the War of the Ring. Faramir is about twenty. Epilogue: About 5 years after the War of the Ring. Faramir is about 40. Glorfindel and Elrond… well, they’re older than dirt really but they are prohibiting me from telling you their exact ages. *grin*
Archive: Feel free; just drop me a URL where I can visit it please sl_chester@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are owned by J.R.R. Tolkien. I make no profit off my writing.
Feedback: Hit me baby, one more time!
Beta: The ever awesome Phyncke *I bow down to her greatness*
Summary: Faramir travels to Rivendell on an important mission for his father, learning some things about himself in the process that are just as important.
Author’s Notes: Written as a challenge fic for the Faramir Fiction archive site. I tried to accommodate as much of my requestor’s conditions as I could. I hope you enjoy your story, unknown person! LOL

Written for the 2010 Midwinter Swap

Request by Angelstar3999: While on a visit to Imladris, Faramir meets up with Elrond and another elf (Erestor, Glorfindel, Legolas, Haldir-You choose) There while he is doing his duty he learns things along the way he has to make big decisions containing himself. While he is their he finds himself falling for these two elves who find themselves not wanting to let go of Faramir. (Please have a happy ending, and sub/but not pushover Faramir)

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Faramir shivered as he pulled his cloak more tightly around his face, jumping when another clap of thunder rumbled. It sounded far closer than the one just a few moments before. His mare snorted in irritation, shaking her mane, throwing additional water up onto the already drenched Gondorian. Raising his head into the pouring rain, his spirits lifted when he spotted the narrow cleft that was the sole entrance to the hidden valley. “Almost there”, he said to himself, reaching up to wipe the rain out of his eyes.

“Hold!“ A booming voice caused him to jump again, spooking his mare and causing her to sidestep suddenly, nearly unseating him. “Who goes there?“

Faramir glanced around, trying to see who was speaking, but could not even determine from which direction the voice was coming, much less who the speaker was. Assuming it to one of Rivendell’s guards, and therefore most likely coming from ahead of him, he opened his cloak, displaying his tunic, carefully keeping his hands away from his sword. The silver embroidery of the white tree of Gondor shone brightly against the deep blue of the fabric, and when no further challenges came, he wrapped his cloak around himself once more.

“Faramir, son of Denethor, from Gondor!” He called out, feeling rather foolish shouting to no one. “I request an audience with your Lord Elrond!” He glanced around again, still seeing no one, but his senses told him the one who had spoken to him was not alone. He could feel the eyes of the other border guards on him. But why did they not show themselves?

Taking their silence for acquiescence, he slowly urged his mare forward, ready to stop at a moment’s notice if another challenge was issued. For several long moments, he heard nothing but the pounding rain, but finally he made out the sound of hoof beats, coming fast. He pulled his mare to a stop and laid his hand on his sword, but as of yet, did not withdraw it. As far as he knew, the dark creatures had never penetrated this near the hidden valley and he saw no reason he should be attacked, but twenty years of living in the shadow of Mordor made him cautious.

The hoof beats were coming closer and finally he could make out a tall blonde elf astride a powerful white stallion. The elf halted only a few feet from Faramir’s mare and looked the man over with a clearly appraising gaze. He wore neither cloak nor oilskin. The water dripped down his sodden hair onto his equally soaked stallion, but neither elf nor horse seemed concerned by the rain. For many long moments, the elf continued evaluating the man, until finally Faramir was forced to look down. There was something in that gaze that unsettled him, a distance to his stare, as if he were looking not at Faramir, but through him.

“You are a long way from Gondor,” he finally spoke, in a deep, melodic voice that sent a shiver down Faramir’s spine. He looked up to see the elf looking up at the sky and smiling, letting the full force of the rain hit him square in the face. Faramir shook his head, wiping the rain away from his eyes again, wondering if this elf was mad. When he said nothing further, Faramir began to grow irritated. He was soaked, cold, tired, and hungry. Were they to just stand here all day in the rain?
“It was not my decision to place Rivendell so far from Minas Tirith,” he snapped, growing more annoyed by the moment. The elf lowered his head and grinned at the man before bowing slightly from the neck.

“Indeed it was not, Faramir son of Denethor. I am Glorfindel, captain of Lord Elrond’s armies.” Faramir started at hearing the name, suddenly understanding why this elf seemed able to look right through him. The legendary Glorfindel, slayer of a Balrog, hero of Gondolin, brought back to life from the very Halls of Mandos. The rain was suddenly forgotten as Faramir stared open mouthed at the fabled elf before him. Glorfindel appeared unaffected by the man’s scrutiny, his only reaction a slight lifting of one corner of his mouth. “You are getting even wetter sitting here, Faramir, son of Denethor,” he finally said, causing the man to jump. “Come… we knew of your arrival yesterday. A room has been prepared for you.” He wheeled his horse and galloped back the way he had come. Faramir followed, the stallion’s white tail acting like a beacon in the driving rain.

The rain had let up a little by the time they reached the courtyard and Faramir was dismayed to see Elrond already there, keeping dry underneath an overhanging walkway. This was not how he had wanted to introduce himself, nor represent Gondor, to the Lord of Imladris. Trying to muster what little dignity he had left, considering he could feel the cold rain dripping down his back, could see his feet and legs were coated with the mud his mare had kicked up, could tell his sodden hair was plastered to his face, he swung down off his horse and bowed deeply. “Faramir, son of Denethor. It is my great honor to make your acquaintance, my Lord Elrond.”

He straightened up to see the Lord of Imladris incline his head slightly and sweep an arm to the side, indicating a dry spot next to him. Gratefully, Faramir hurried out of the rain, surprised to see Glorfindel was not dismounting. Did he enjoy getting soaked? It would seem so. Finally he slid off his horse and Faramir was surprised to see he used neither bridle nor saddle. He whispered something to the tall stallion, causing the animal to snort and gently butt his master in the chest before turning and trotting out of the courtyard. A groom arrived a few moments later to lead Faramir’s horse away.

Faramir watched curiously as the elf approached, his expression changing as he turned his gaze to Elrond. The previously mild expression became intense, almost predatory, as did his demeanor. His previously casual steps turned slow and deliberate, stalking closer to the Peredhel.

“Glorfindel…” Elrond warned, backing away. “Do not even think about it…”

The captain suddenly leaped toward Elrond, leaning forward and shaking his head as if he were a dog, spraying drops of moisture from his sopping hair onto the pristine robes of the dark haired elf. A most un-elf-like shriek issued from Elrond as he jumped back, trying to avoid the worst of the assault. Glorfindel suddenly straightened up, grinned, and strode away.

Elrond shook his head as he turned to face his guest once more. “Perhaps some day he will cease acting like an elfling… though after this many years, I suppose I should stop expecting it. Come… your room is waiting.” He led the way down a narrow corridor and up a circular staircase, until they reached a guest room overlooking the valley. “A bathing room is in there.” He indicated a small room off to one side. “If the rain stops, feel free to open the doors to the balcony. Your belongings will be brought to you when they have been dried.” He stepped to the closet and pulled open the doors, revealing several tunics and leggings, and a pair of soft leather boots. “If these are not to your liking, I can have others sent up. I was told this is what is favored these days in Minas Tirith. Dinner will be served in approximately one hour in the dining hall on the first floor. The bell in the courtyard will sound fifteen minutes before the meal is served. Or if you wish to have something brought up to you instead…” He indicated a cord near the door. “Pull on that. It rings in the servant’s rooms and someone will be up shortly to assist you. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some matters I must attend to before dinner.” With a quick bow, he was gone.

For several seconds, Faramir stared after his host, surprised at the abruptness of one who was known even in Gondor for being accommodating and welcoming. It was not until he realized he was creating muddy puddles all over the hardwood floors that he quickly strode for the bathing room. Hanging his wet clothes on a hook in the corner of the room, he stepped into the tub, puzzling over the unfamiliar design of the taps for a moment before he realized how to operate them. With a soft sigh, he sank down in the warm water, feeling all the tension of the long ride melt away.

Though he could have stayed longer in the warm water, the bell in the courtyard rang, indicating dinner was about to be served. He sat up abruptly, surprised so much time had passed already. Rising quickly from the water, he dried himself, dismayed that he would not have time to dry his hair and would make another poor impression on Lord Elrond. He kneeled and wiped up the puddle he had created earlier and settled for combing his fingers through his wavy hair, removing at least some of the tangles.

He found the clothing that had been left for him to be plain, but serviceable and well-fitting. The laces on the boots were intricate, with hidden eyelets, and he realized with irritation that he would be late for dinner. Still one more mistake his father was sure to berate him for when he returned to Gondor.

Finally he conquered the recalcitrant laces and taking several deep breaths to calm himself, opened the door and strode out into the hallway. He stepped quickly but unhurriedly to the staircase at the end of the hall and began the descent. The only thing worse than being late to an event was appearing one was hurrying to avoid being late.

The smell of food made his stomach growl and he followed his nose down to the large room at the end of the hall. The sight that greeted him made him stare in surprise. He had expected formal dinners in Rivendell to be much like what he had experienced in Gondor; long tables with elegant place settings and straight backed chairs, servants in formal serving attire, meals that had many courses and took several hours to partake in. But the meal in Imladris was as different as it could possibly be.

One long table was laid out near the back wall, filled nearly to overflowing with all manner of sumptuous dishes; soups, breads, roasted meats, salads, fresh fruits, desserts. There were no formal tables with assigned place settings. Many soft chairs were scattered around the room, several clustered in front of the fireplace, and more around the large windows overlooking the valley. The rain had finally stopped and the balcony doors were open, allowing another place to eat and talk. Faramir’s fears that he might interrupt a formal dinner by arriving late were assuaged when he saw he was not the last to arrive. It did not seem that everyone was expected to stay if they wished to eat elsewhere. He watched as several elves in full patrol gear arrived, filled their plates, and quickly departed, eating as they went. He assumed correctly that they were the evening border patrol, come to have a quick meal before heading out on duty.

His tension dissipated as he realized no one seemed to mind him arriving after the meal had begun. A small side table was laid out with pre-filled glasses of wine so he took one, stepping to the side and observing how the meal proceeded. A small group of elves arrived, nodding to him and moving on to the table to fill their plates and look around for somewhere to sit. Another elf waved at them from across the room and they headed that way, to sit and begin their meal. Now that he understood how such a meal worked, Faramir set aside his wine and approached the table, looking over it for a moment before selecting anything.

Though many of the dishes were familiar, including a roasted pig, yams in a sweet syrup, and some type of roasted fowl, many were not and he found himself at a loss as to what to choose.

“Are you not hungry?” A voice at his elbow made him jump and he turned, looking up into the piercing blue eyes of an elf. It was a moment before his mind made the connection that this was none other than Captain Glorfindel himself. Faramir found himself staring at the vision of beauty before him, so different from the muddy, sopping wet elf he had seen just an hour before

Glorfindel appeared to have bathed, but Faramir was at a loss as to how he had managed to dry his long golden hair in such a short time. The elf wore a blue tunic, a near match to his eyes, loose fitting and open down the front, and snug black leggings with long black boots.

“I…” He swore softly to himself as he tore his eyes away from the radiant golden elf. Reminding himself he was here on a diplomatic mission, he took a deep breath to control the waver in his voice, doing his best to ignore what the presence of the elf was doing to him. “I am unfamiliar with most of these dishes and am unsure what I would like.”

“Aye… that is quite understandable. I had the same dilemma the first time I visited Gondor.” He took Faramir’s arm and pulled him around to the other side of the table, where the meats and breads gave way to fresh fruits and various delicacies that could be nothing other than an assortment of desserts. Looking over them a moment, Glorfindel selected the largest honey pastry Faramir had ever seen and downed it in several bites. “When in doubt, start with dessert. You will find there is little variation in desserts between here and Gondor.” He leaned closer and whispered in Faramir’s ear, “Best not to fill up on a dish you may not like and then not have room for dessert.” With a grin, he snatched a large piece of cake from the table and took an enormous bite of it.

“Glorfindel!” Elrond’s voice caused the other elf to jump and nearly drop his cake. Both turned to see Elrond standing a step behind them, holding out a plate to each of them. “A plate if you would please? Now I see where my children learned their table manners.” Glorfindel quickly stuffed the rest of the cake in his mouth, looking utterly unrepentant.

“As my lord wishes,” he mumbled around a mouthful of cake, taking the plate and bowing low, taking Elrond’s hand and deferentially kissing the back. He straightened up and swallowed his treat, licking away a bit of frosting from his lower lip.

Elrond’s irritated expression became a smile as he reached up and brushed a crumb away from Glorfindel’s cheek. “And in case you were not aware, there is this new invention called a ‘napkin’. Perhaps you could use one from time to time.”

“I prefer to use my tongue,” he replied softly, smirking when a light shiver went down Elrond’s spine.

“Indeed you do,” Elrond whispered.

Faramir watched the interaction between the two elves, instinctively understanding there was more between them than lord and captain. Far from being disturbed or upset as he thought he would have been, he found the innuendos and hints fascinating. Neither seemed disturbed by another having observed their conversation, and unless he was quite wrong, Glorfindel even seemed pleased by it.

“Yes well… we do have a guest tonight, Glorfindel,” Elrond said after a moment, attempting to draw himself together, but Faramir could see his skin was still a bit flushed and his voice trembled almost imperceptibly. “Perhaps you could try to conduct yourself with the dignity and discipline I know you are capable of.”

Glorfindel bowed again, though this time his eyes did not leave Elrond’s, causing another light shiver to rack the Peredhel’s body. “As my lord wishes,” he repeated. With another small shake of his head, Elrond nodded to Faramir before slowly walking away. Faramir noticed that Glorfindel’s piercing blue eyes followed his lord’s path across the room.

“Well now…” Glorfindel’s loud voice startled Faramir out of his musings. “Let us see what they served tonight.” He tugged Faramir’s sleeve, leading him around the table, pointing out what each dish was and a brief description of how they were prepared, and by the time they reached the desserts again, both had filled their plates. Again tugging on Faramir’s sleeve, the elf led him over to a pair of empty chairs in front of the fireplace. “Tis a cool night, I thought you might be most comfortable here.”

“Aye, I am still a little chilled from my ride here, though the warm bath felt most delightful.”

Glorfindel nodded, taking a bite of his meal. “Dreadful weather the last few days. ‘Tis hard to believe that winter is still many months away.”

“You did not seem to mind the rain.”

The elf grinned. “I enjoy the rain. Orcs do not like getting wet, so the chance of an attack is much diminished… and because it is ever so much fun to soak Elrond.” He took another bite. “He shrieks like a female, do you not think? The dignified Lord of Imladris, shrieking like a female from a little water.”

Faramir chuckled. “Aye he did.”

They continued eating in silence, Glorfindel occasionally nodding or waving to those greeting him. When they were finished, they sat back in their chairs, sipping their wine. “So…” Glorfindel finally said. “What brings you to Imladris? ‘Tis not often we have visitors from Gondor, and never one of Lord Denethor’s sons. We were surprised when we heard you were coming.”

“I had wanted to ask you about that… you said you knew yesterday that I was coming. But I felt it safer if I traveled anonymously.”

“Aye, that is a wise precaution… but did you think I was the first to spot you?”

“To be honest I had not thought about it.”

“Indeed. Nevertheless, I am the last line of defense, not the first. You were watched and followed for several days. We could not determine who you were until yesterday, when the rain stopped briefly and you opened your cloak to shake the water off yourself. But it was clear you were not one of Sauron’s dark servants, so you were allowed to proceed unimpeded.” He took a sip of his wine. “But you did not answer my question. What is so important to Gondor that the Steward would risk one of his sons to obtain it?”

Faramir bit back the bitter reply that wanted to push its way out, that he had not been chosen for this mission despite being one of the Steward’s sons, but because he was. Because he was only Faramir, was only the younger and less important son.

Because he was expendable…

“I…” He took a deep breath, fighting down the resentment. Regardless of the reason, he was here to represent Gondor and he would do so to the best of his ability. “I am to discuss that with Elrond alone.”

Rather than being angry or upset like Faramir had expected, Glorfindel simply smiled and sat back. “Of course.” He looked around, spotting a dark-haired elf standing near the entrance to the balcony. “That somber looking character near the balcony? That is Erestor, Elrond’s chief advisor. If you need an audience with Elrond, that is who you will need to arrange a time with. He knows Elrond’s schedule better than Elrond himself.”

“Thank you. Perhaps I should do that.”

Glorfindel put a hand on Faramir’s arm when he began to rise. “After you have dessert… and after I have dessert. Erestor can be most grumpy if he is disturbed before the meal is over.”

“But… you already had dessert.”

Glorfindel smiled, leading Faramir back to the table, which was now quite depleted. “No, I had an appetizer. A dessert eaten before the meal is called an appetizer. Now I will have dessert.” He snatched another honey pastry, deliberately ignoring the small dessert plates stacked on the end of the table. Faramir turned to look at where Elrond was sitting, not able to stop a small smile when the Lord of Imladris sighed and rolled his eyes at his Captain. “Here… they are quite good.” Faramir reached for a plate, jumping a little when Glorfindel gently slapped his hand away. Tentatively reaching for one of the pastries, Faramir took a small bite, brushing away a crumb that fell onto his tunic.

“They are very good. Thank you.” He watched in fascination as Glorfindel shoved another large piece of cake into his mouth, chuckling as the elf muttered something that sounded vaguely like ‘you are welcome’ though he could not be sure.

Noticing that Erestor was heading for the door, he excused himself and hurried to intercept him, bowing when the elf was close, which was returned. “Lord Erestor, I am told you are the one I need to see about scheduling some time with Lord Elrond.”

“Indeed. He has time tomorrow. How long do you need?”

“An hour, perhaps less.”

“Elrond’s office is at the other end of this hallway. Come there shortly after the morning meal.” With another quick bow he was gone, leaving Faramir standing in the hallway looking quite confused. It was not just Elrond… Erestor was abrupt also. Was anyone here friendly? He smiled a little as he spotted Glorfindel lifting an elfling up and swinging her around, causing her to squeal in delight. Glorfindel certainly was.

He watched the Elda for a while longer, unable to resist admiring his strong form, his infectious laugh, the pull from his deep blue eyes. He had seen few elves in his life; Denethor did not care for them and they were not welcome in Gondor. But the few he had met, though beautiful in their own way, could not compare to Glorfindel. Radiant… he could think of no better word to describe the golden elf.

As if aware he was being observed, Glorfindel suddenly turned to gaze at Faramir, causing the man to tear his gaze away and quickly hurry down the corridor. Berating himself for having been caught staring, he fled to his room. Had he turned at that moment, he would have seen Glorfindel watching him…

The next morning dawned clear and cool, giving no indication that the rain of the last few days would be repeated. Faramir woke just as the bell rang, signifying the morning meal was soon to be served. He was just rising from bed when a soft knock sounded on his door. He opened it to find a young servant holding his saddlebags, his clothes from the day before draped over them. Without a word the young elf handed them to him before bowing and hurrying away. He frowned as he returned to the room, setting his bags on the floor near the balcony door and draping the clothes over the bed. He remembered leaving his clothes hanging in the bathing room when he went to dinner. Had someone been in his room while he was out? Apparently so.

He suddenly felt a little embarrassed as he remembered how he had disparaged the welcome he had received. Perhaps the elves seemed a bit abrupt, but his every need had been seen to since he had arrived. His clothes had been cleaned, he had been fed a sumptuous meal and given a luxurious bed, he had been granted the audience with Lord Elrond as requested. The elves were not inhospitable, despite what his father would say. Their ways were just different.

He quickly pulled on his clothes and hurried down to the dining room, seeing it set out much as it had been the night before. The chairs were in the same arrangement, the same long table was present. The only differences he saw was that since the rain had subsided, several chairs had been placed on the balcony, and the long table was laid out with lighter fare befitting the morning meal, breads and pastries and fresh fruit. He couldn’t help but grin a little as he noted there were no desserts present. Glorfindel would certainly be dejected.

He filled a plate and looked around, disappointed the golden elf was not there. Once he was done eating, he filled a glass with clear water and strode out to the balcony. The sight that greeted him took his breath away.

More waterfalls than he could count spilled down from the sheer cliffsides, to converge below into a mighty river. Small bushes and trees clung to the sides of the cliffs, struggling to make their way from bare rock. The sun was just beginning to peek its way into the deep cleft, causing a rainbow in nearly every direction.

His gaze continued on, to the delicately formed buildings, the intricate scrollwork on railings and rooftops. Never could he remember seeing such a vision of beauty. He heard hoofbeats and turned to look down the pathway, seeing an elf approaching on a dark brown horse. The soldier in him suddenly understood there was far more to the city than simple beauty. He had been too wet and cold the night before to notice, but the pathway he had entered on circled around the edge of the city before spilling into the courtyard and was completely unshielded from the top. In the unlikely event an enemy penetrated the valley itself, there would be ample time for Glorfindel’s warriors to pick them off from above before they reached the heart of the city.

He continued his perusal of the valley, wondering how long he should wait before seeking out Lord Elrond. The Peredhel had not appeared as of yet, and the meal was showing signs of winding down.

“Most visitors find their way to that vista sooner or later.” A voice beside him caused him to jump and face the speaker. Elrond smiled slightly, sweeping his gaze over the city for a moment before returning it to Faramir.

“It is beautiful.”

“Aye, but it also serves a purpose.” He pointed to a cleft in the mountains. “The sun rises directly from that cleft on the longest day of the year. It helps us to ensure that we have kept our calendar correctly for the previous year. Over many years, the dates on a calendar can drift away from the seasons. This allows us to reset the calendar as needed.” He returned his gaze to Faramir again. “Erestor tells me you requested a meeting with me this morning?”

“Aye, I am here at the request of my father.”

“Come with me then.” He turned and led Faramir back through the dining hall and down the hallway to a small office at the other end. Indicating a chair near the window, he seated himself on another, folding his hands in his lap and waiting for Faramir to speak.

The man remained silent for a moment, going over what he was to say, making sure it was exactly right the first time. “As you are aware, the influence of the darkness grows by the day.” Elrond nodded. “An appeal has gone out to the far reaching villages that we are in need of more soldiers to defend our country. The response has been overwhelming and our numbers have nearly doubled.”

“Your people have always responded to threats with strength and courage,” Elrond said, causing Faramir to flush with pride.

“Unfortunately, though we have had an increase in numbers, our steel production has been poor lately. Many of the old sources of ore are no longer productive and new ones have been difficult to find. Though we have men who are willing to join our ranks, we have been unable to outfit them with swords and armor. We have been told that the elves would perhaps be willing to help, that you had a supply of ore you could spare or at least an area we had permission to look for more.”

Elrond sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers together. “What are you most in need of? Raw ore, swords, or armor?”

“Swords, if you are willing to give them up. The threat is growing so quickly we are weary of being without for any longer than is necessary. But if that is not possible, ore would be the second choice.”

“And what would Gondor give us in exchange?”

Faramir looked down, pulling out a piece of paper from his pocket and handing it to Elrond. He could not meet the elf’s gaze as Elrond perused the writing. Though Denethor had ordered him not to, Faramir had opened the note and read it and had been ashamed at the absurdly low price his father was offering for elvish swords, a price hardly above what they had paid in the past for ore.

Finally he looked up, seeing Elrond still carefully reading the note, and suddenly wished to be anywhere else. It was suddenly clear to him why he had been chosen for this mission, and it was only partly because he was expendable. Denethor was sure Elrond would refuse the offer, causing Faramir to return to Minas Tirith in shame, his mission having failed. A brief flash of anger made his face flush as he turned to look out the window.

“Have you read this note?”

He turned back to face Elrond. “I have.”

“And what do you think of your father’s offer?”

He hesitated for a long moment before answering. “I believe it is absurdly low and is an insult to you and to your people, Lord Elrond. But I was instructed to raise our offer no higher.”

“How many swords is Gondor wishing to purchase?”

“As many as you can spare.” He briefly wondered why Elrond was asking him this. What did it matter? He was going to refuse the offer.

“And how long after delivery could we expect payment?”

“As… as soon as the shipment is verified to be of the agreed upon quality and quantity.”

Elrond nodded and sat back in his chair, looking out the window for a moment before returning his gaze to the Gondorian. “Agreed.”

“I… pardon me?” Faramir stuttered.

“I agree to your terms,” Elrond said mildly.

“You… you do? At that price?”

“Aye.”

Faramir blinked several times, not quite sure he was believing what he was hearing. Was his mission actually going to succeed? He would not return to Gondor in disgrace? “But… the price we are offering is so low.”

“It is… and were these times of peace, you would find my response would be different. But I am not so foolish as to think what happens to Gondor could not happen here. It has never been the way of the darkness to attempt to overwhelm the entire world at one time. Were the darkness to gather strength, Gondor and Rohan would be the first to fall. Once that occurred, it would only be a matter of time until the realms of the elves were attacked. It is to our benefit as much as yours to stop them where they are now, to keep them behind the Black Gate.” He looked closely at Faramir. “What I find odd is that you were sent to obtain our approval; that the Steward’s son would be sent on a mission that a simple messenger could have accomplished.”

Faramir could not meet the searching gaze of the elf. “I do not know his reasons.”

“Do not know, or would rather not think about?” Elrond asked gently. Faramir looked up, seeing the ancient eyes now held sympathy and compassion. “It is no secret that your brother is Denethor’s favored son.”

Faramir again looked away, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. Was his shame known all across Arda? “Boromir is a good man, a good soldier. I am proud of what he has accomplished. I am proud to call him brother, and when his time comes to take over Stewardship of Gondor, I will serve him without complaint.”

“He will never become Steward,” Elrond said softly. Faramir looked back in surprise. “Though the darkness clouds many of my visions, this I have seen.”

“What will happen? Will Gondor fall?”

Elrond shook his head. “What I have seen is not clear. But the visions I have seen are not of darkness overwhelming the world. Men will prevail, but neither your brother nor your father will live to see it.”

Faramir’s stomach dropped. “When? When do they die?”

“Forgive me, but my sight is not that clear. I do not know the manner of their deaths, nor when they occur. But it is not for many years.” His eyes glazed over for a moment as his sight turned inward. “But I do know your brother will die so that many others might live.” He shook his head slightly. “I should not have told you this. No one should be burdened with such knowledge.”

“Everyone must die some day, Lord Elrond.” He smiled a little, wiping away a tear. “Though I will miss him when he is gone, it gives me comfort to know my brother will die so that another might live. He was born and bred a soldier, he could ask for no better way to die.”

“And your father?”

Faramir hesitated a long moment before answering. “As you said, Boromir is his favored son. Though he will always be my father…” He hesitated again, looking out the window and continuing in a voice barely above a whisper. “…I would be lying if I said I will miss him when he is gone.”

He jumped and turned to look at Elrond when he felt another hand covering his. “Does it happen often?”

“Does… does what happen often?”

“Your father giving you a task with little chance of success simply so he can berate you when you fail?”

Faramir looked down at their hands, surprised to see Elrond’s other hand had joined the first and was gently caressing his palm. “Often enough,” he whispered. “How did you know?”

“By the expression on your face when you handed me the offer for the swords. You were embarrassed, but you were also resigned. You thought it was inevitable that you were to fail.” The sad tone made Faramir look up, seeing pain in the ancient eyes. “It is much the same expression as that worn by the mortally wounded.”

Faramir hesitated a long time before moving his other hand to grasp one of Elrond’s. “And you have seen far too many of those.”

“Aye, far too many.”

Elrond blinked quickly several times and Faramir had the distinct impression that he was fighting back tears. “Forgive me, my lord… I did not mean to dredge up painful memories.”

“There are those who envy elves,” Elrond said quietly. “Who envy us our long lives, our health, our strength, our endurance. But what they do not understand is that with increased lifespan comes increased pain. You are young yet, and yet you have lost those you care about in your short life.” Faramir nodded. “I have lived for over six thousand years, have seen more than one war that I thought would destroy our world, have lost friends, family, comrades…” He sighed softly. “What I am saying, is that you did not dredge up painful memories. Those memories are never far from my mind.”

“Then you find no joy in life?”

“I did not say that. Six thousand years also gives a great deal of time for happiness. The defeat of evil, the birth of my children, the comradeship of friends and loved ones, even a simple walk in my garden or swim in the river, there is much that brings me joy. But those who envy us our blessings, who would wish to share in them, must also share in our pain. There cannot be one without the other.”

For a long time they remained as they were, holding hands, not seeming to know why they were doing it, but neither did they have any inclination to stop. It was Faramir who pulled away first. “If our business is concluded, perhaps I should return to my room. I will be on my way in the morning.”

“If you must, but will you not stay another day? It is a long ride back to Gondor, you should rest. Or at the very least, you should rest your horse. I can send word by messenger bird that I accept your offer if you are concerned with time.”

“Alright… I will stay until the day after tomorrow. My mare is not as young as she used to be, she deserves a rest. But I will take the message back myself.”

For the first time, Elrond smiled a little. “Of course, what was I thinking? You wish for the opportunity to gloat a little that your mission was a success.”

Faramir smiled also. “Oh no… I do not wish to gloat, merely to… revel… in my success… aye… revel is a better word.”

Elrond’s smile widened, tactfully avoiding mentioning that the two words had nearly identical meanings. “Good, it is settled then. I will have my scribe craft a formal reply to take with you in case he does not believe you.”

“Thank you. Now if you will excuse me…”

“Before you go, would you join me for a walk in the garden? You can return to your room from there.”

Faramir fidgeted for a moment. Something in the elf’s demeanor made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t place his finger on exactly what. Perhaps it was the complete turn around from the abrupt elf who had greeted him in the courtyard the night before. The Elrond he was with now was open and friendly, joking and talking with him as if they were old friends.

“It can help,” Elrond added.

“Help what?”

“Calm the spirit when it is bruised.”

A look of pain flashed over Faramir’s face for just a moment. “Alright.”

Elrond nodded and led the way out onto the balcony and then down a short staircase to a manicured garden surrounded by a high hedge. Immediately Faramir could see that though this part of the garden was not unreachable from the rest, it was meant to be accessed from Elrond’s office and was clearly separated.

“I love my people very much, but there are times when even I must get away from them. I can be reached here in an emergency but they know not to disturb me unless they must.” Faramir nodded, following him through the garden, trying to identify the plants that grew there, but having limited success. He knew only that they were from all across Arda, and understood the great deal of time that must be involved in caring for plants that did not normally grow in the local climate.

They continued further along, passing through a narrow gap in the hedge and out into the main area of the garden. Here the foliage changed, to a more formal look with elegantly manicured hedges lining the pathway, plants grouped together by size and color, forming secluded alcoves to sit and relax.

Elrond stopped at a large garden with neat rows of plants, carefully labeled in both Elvish and Westron. Faramir read a few of the names and immediately understood that it was where Elrond cultivated medicinal plants. “It has been my experience that most Rangers are well versed in the healing arts. Are you included among that group?”

“I am.”

“Then you know the uses for most of these plants.”

“Many of them, yes.”

“There are many others that grow wild in the woods near here. These are the ones that require special care to survive in our climate. You are free to use any of them you need during your stay. I would only ask that if you must take the entire plant, to inform me so that I may plant a new one.”

“Understood.”

They continued on, the well-tended, exotic gardens gradually giving way to more native plants, left to grow where they wished, the only attention given to them a pruning now and then to keep them from overrunning the walkways. After a while they stopped at a marble statue and Faramir found himself staring. It was of an elvish male and female, looking down at two babies held in their arms. The resemblance was so striking the male could have been no one but Elrond. Faramir watched as Elrond gently picked the fallen leaves off the statue and rubbed away a small smudge on the female’s cheek.

“Is this you and your wife?”

“Aye. And our sons. I had it commissioned the day they were born.”

Impulsively, Faramir reached to take the elf’s hand. “She would not want you to still grieve for her.”

Elrond turned to look at the man. “You know what happened to her?”

“I do… Mithrandir has been my teacher and mentor for many years. Just as you are informed about the goings on in Gondor, so does he make sure I am instructed about what happens in the elven realms.” He slowly ran his thumb across the back of Elrond’s hand. “I do not share in my father’s disdain for elves, Elrond.”

“You do not share in most of his opinions it would seem. And yet you follow his orders, even when you know what he asks is unreasonable and reflects poorly on Gondor.”

Faramir’s eyes flared with anger and he dropped Elrond’s hand. “What do you expect me to do? Defy him? He is my father but even more so, he is my liege, my captain. Do you counsel your people to ignore your orders if they find them unsuitable?”

“No, but neither do I expect them to remain silent if given an order they know is unreasonable. My people follow me because they know I have their best interests at heart, because they know their opinions are always welcomed, not because they are afraid to cross me.”

“My father is not like that,” Faramir snapped.

“Are you sure? You read the proposal, you knew the price was absurdly low. Did you read it only as you approached Rivendell and thus had no opportunity to ask him for a more reasonable offer?” Faramir looked away from the intense stare. “I did not think so. You read it as soon as you received it, as any good soldier should, so you would know what your mission entailed. And yet you said nothing. You said nothing because you were afraid of his response if you questioned him.”

Faramir remained silent for a long while, his anger cooling. “You would understand why had you ever been the one to cross him. He shows his disapproval rather… harshly.”

“Forgive me. I would never suggest you do anything that would cause you harm. But someday you will have to decide.”

“Is this another of your visions?”

“It is. There will come a day when you will face a momentous decision. Your father will order you to pursue one course of action, while you know in your heart that you must choose another, that what he orders would have grave consequences, the repercussions of which would reach far beyond Gondor.”

For a long time, Faramir stared at Elrond, his mind racing with this information. Was it really true? Could he really have such an impact on the world? He knew better than to doubt Elrond’s visions. Mithrandir had told him many times that though elves could not see everything with their foresight, what they could see was usually correct. “And do I make the correct decision?”

“I do not know. But as I have seen that men are victorious, it would seem so.” He turned and gazed up at the statue again, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and Faramir found himself also feeling sudden, unaccounted grief. His mind was flooded with an unexpected memory of his mother, of her kindness, her gentleness, how she would rock him back to sleep when he had a bad dream.

He moved closer to Elrond and pulled the elf into an embrace, not really knowing if he was giving comfort or seeking it. Perhaps a bit of both, as grief was universal. Elrond was the first to pull away, though he again leaned closer and softly kissed the man’s lips. “Come with me,” he whispered, grasping Faramir’s hand and taking a step down the pathway.

“Where?” Faramir whispered back.

“To a more private place.” After a long hesitation, the man followed. Elrond led them back to the main building. This time however, he did not enter there, but continued up a long spiral staircase to the top floor. Pushing a heavy wooden door open, he gently tugged Faramir inside, then down a long corridor to another door, this one more delicate, with elegant scrollwork around the edges. For this one, he produced a key, unlocked it, then secured it once they had entered.

Faramir looked around as Elrond moved about the room, lighting a few candles and opening the windows to allow the scents of the garden to waft in. One wall was taken up entirely by an enormous bookcase, while opposite were nothing but windows and doors leading out to balconies. Curious to see what view Elrond had afforded himself, he strode out onto one of them, gasping at the beauty.

He jumped when Elrond approached him, sliding arms around his waist from behind and shivered as he felt gentle lips softly kissing his neck. “Come,” Elrond whispered, taking his hand and gently leading him toward the bed.

“Wait…”

Elrond stopped, his expression confused. “Did I mis-read your desire?”

“No… no, you did not. I just thought… judging by the interaction between you and Lord Glorfindel last night…”

Understanding dawned on the Peredhel’s face. “That we were a bonded pair?” Faramir nodded. “We have known each other for many years, have been friends since before the Last Alliance. We are… close… but we are not bonded. Nothing you and I will do here, if indeed you wish to do anything at all, will jeopardize anything I have with him.”

“Does he live here as well?” Faramir asked, noticing the large painting of Gondolin hung above the bed.

“He does. Though he does not spend every night here. He lays with others, as do I. Our relationship is based more on love and comfort than on intimacy.”

“Then you do not lay together?”

Elrond’s smile widened, wondering if the man’s questions were the result of curiosity or nervousness. “We do. But that is only a small part of what we are to each other. He is the one who comes to me when I am lost and unsure of myself. I am the one who goes to him when a patrol goes wrong and he loses a close friend. We give each other love and support, and at times pleasure.”

“So then you…” He yelped softly as Elrond suddenly grasped his hand and pulled him closer, capturing his lips in a firm kiss.

“You may ask me anything you wish, Faramir,” Elrond whispered against his lips. “Afterward… or if you do not wish to do anything further, I would ask you to leave now, before my desire becomes any more unbearable.” He waited for a response for long enough to reassure himself that he was not being refused before sliding a hand between them, gently caressing the front of Faramir’s leggings. “I see I am not the only one in need,” he whispered, rubbing Faramir’s semi-erect shaft.

Faramir groaned softly and pressed his hips forward. “Please…”

“As you wish,” Elrond whispered, pressing more firmly, then after a moment, wrapping his arms around Faramir and pulling him closer, covering his lips with another forceful kiss.

It was Elrond’s turn to groan as their heated arousals contacted each other for the first time. “What do you like?” Elrond whispered, slowly running his hands through wavy auburn hair.

“I…” Faramir felt his face flush as he attempted to pull his mind out of the cloud of lust that was rapidly enveloping it. “I have found little I do not like.”

“This is good to hear, but I was referring specifically to something else. Do you prefer to be the sword, or the sheath?” He bent down a little and softly nibbled on Faramir’s neck, reaching up to untie the laces on the man’s tunic.

Faramir’s face flushed deeper. “I… I would like to sheathe your sword, Lord Elrond.”

Elrond looked up at him, his eyes dilated in desire. “Elrond.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Just my name… no titles.” Faramir nodded, reaching up to touch the long dark hair of the elf. Slowly he ran his fingers through it, causing Elrond’s eyes to slide closed, a soft sigh of contentment escaping his lips. “Mmmm… do that again.” Faramir willingly obliged, reaching up with both hands this time, leaning closer to kiss and softly bite the tender skin of Elrond’s neck. The Peredhel shivered, tugging loose the last lace, reaching for the hem of Faramir’s tunic and pulling it over his head.

He slowly ran his hands up and down the bare flesh of Faramir’s sides before reaching around to pull him closer. His hands stopped for a moment when he encountered not smooth skin like he had expected, but long stripes of roughened flesh. Faramir’s gaze dropped to the floor as he let the elf gently turn him.

“As I said,” Faramir whispered. “He shows his disapproval rather harshly.”

“Your father gave you these?” Elrond could feel his anger rising as he stared at the long scars across Faramir’s back.

“He is not above whipping those who disobey or fail him. And his son is not exempt from such punishments.” Elrond shook his head, slowly tracing one of the scars with his finger. Though Faramir had not said it, he suspected one of Denethor’s sons was exempt from such things.

After a moment, Faramir turned, taking Elrond’s hand and gently kissing the palm. Elrond smiled when Faramir reached to push his robe off his shoulders. He dropped his arms, allowing it to fall to the floor, chuckling a little when Faramir examined his tunic closely, unable to see the tiny buttons holding the front of it closed.

Afraid the man would simply rip the fabric in his haste to get the garment off him, Elrond unbuttoned the top button himself, then moved his hands away, allowing Faramir to do the rest. Once that was done, he dropped his arms again, the garment falling on top of the robe. Faramir stared curiously at Elrond’s nearly hairless chest, comparing it to his own, which grew a thick down of auburn curls.

His curious hands continued their exploration, across Elrond’s shoulders and down his arms, then back up his stomach. He lingered for a long while on Elrond’s erect nipples, squeezing and gently pinching them, testing the Peredhel’s reactions to his touches. The shudder that ran through Elrond’s frame with each caress made it clear his actions pleased the elf greatly.

He kneeled in front of Elrond, finding the ties for his leggings and undoing them, slowly drawing the fabric down his muscular legs. Elrond stepped out of them and Faramir tossed them off to the side. Again he found himself staring inquisitively at the light dusting of dark hair around the base of Elrond’s erect shaft. “Do elves not grow hair other than on their heads?”

Trying to pull himself from his desire, which was becoming more and more difficult with each moment, Elrond tipped his head down. “Full elves are hairless elsewhere, Peredhel have a little.”

Faramir smiled as he reached to grasp Elrond’s shaft in his hand. “So much the better. It allows me to see your lovely arousal all the more clearly.”

“Valar…” Elrond cried softly, reaching to steady himself on the wall, spreading his legs.

Faramir’s smile widened at the obvious evidence of desire, shifting position slightly as Elrond’s soft moans were making his own shaft throb with need. He stroked the firm flesh for a bit longer before lowering his mouth over it, drawing a strangled cry from Elrond.

“Please…” Elrond gasped, reaching down with his free hand to stroke Faramir’s hair. Faramir nodded, taking in as much as he could, slowly drawing his tongue around the sensitive organ, delighting at hearing the moans of pleasure. Elrond’s hand tightened in his hair as he continued, the discomfort not dissuading him from his task. Faster and faster he drew in and released the throbbing flesh, feeling Elrond beginning to thrust into his mouth, his actions growing more and more erratic. Finally the hand tightened in his hair just short of painfully and in the next moment he felt Elrond tense and tasted the Peredhel’s release. He gently cleaned off the softening member before standing and taking Elrond into an embrace. He smiled against Elrond’s neck as he felt the slight tremors wracking the strong body, delighted he could bring pleasure to such a wise, ancient elf.

After a long pause, Elrond pulled away slightly, smiling. “Thank you. It has been too long.”

“You have not…”

“I have not been in the mood lately, which I know has aggravated Glorfindel to no end.”

“Is that why he made those innuendos at dinner?”

Elrond laughed. “Indeed. And then he stayed away all night, knowing he would have sent my desire rising.”

“Then… you would have preferred to wait for him?”

“Not at all. He knows that once he arouses me like that, I stay interested for many days. There will be ample time for him to enjoy what he has started.”

Faramir chuckled. “Well I am pleased that I was able to be the unexpected beneficiary of his teasing then.” He reached up to stroke Elrond’s cheek. “Although you are so beautiful, it will be difficult for me to leave anything for him.” He was surprised to see Elrond color at his words.

“You think me beautiful?”

Faramir did not answer for a long moment, surprised to hear the hesitant, almost vulnerable tone coming from one who was renowned far and wide as being a wise, powerful leader. “I think you very beautiful, Elrond. Am I alone in my feelings?”

“Not… entirely… but there are others who are admired far more than I am.”

“Why?”

“I am considered not… Elvish… enough. My features are too coarse, my hair too harsh, I do not sing as well as most elves, and as you discovered, I do grow some hair on places besides my head.”

“Very little,” Faramir said with a grin, running his fingers through the thick hair on his own chest.

“Aye, but there is some. It is a reminder of how I am not entirely elvish. Many, such as Glorfindel, my wife, they do not care. But there are some who do. Some who think less of me because I am not… pure…”

“I do not think less of you, Elrond… and you will just have to endure me seeing you as beautiful.”

“I do not mind that at all.” He ran his fingers curiously through the thick hair on Faramir’s chest. “I have only been with elves… do all men have this much hair?”

“Mmmmm that feels nice. And no, they do not. Some have more, some less. I am about average.” He looked a little confused. “Surely you have seen other men in your duties as a healer.”

“Aye, but that is different. I had not paid much attention, my priorities have been on mending a wound or healing an illness.” He continued his exploration of the man’s chest. “And it is coarse. Much coarser than the hair on your head.”

“Aye, it is.” Elrond kneeled and softly kissed Faramir’s belly, reaching up to untie his leggings.

“And is what grows between your legs even coarser?” He slowly ran his tongue up the center of Faramir’s chest before taking a nipple into his mouth.

Faramir gasped. “Why… why not find out for yourself?”

“I believe I shall.” He gently pushed the man backward until his knees contacted the side of the bed, causing him to quickly sit. “Lay back,” he whispered.

Faramir did as requested lifting his hips when Elrond pulled his leggings down. Elrond kneeled next to him on the bed, slowly running his hands up and down the man’s body. Faramir’s hands clenched around the covers as Elrond swallowed down his entire throbbing erection in one motion. “Valar… how can you do that?”

For a moment, Elrond withdrew, looking up at him with a smile. “So it is. Much coarser. How interesting… “ Once again he took in Faramir’s length, grinning at the strangled scream that escaped his mouth. “But I see your responses are not so much different from an elf’s. All the better.”

“Please… more…” he gasped, feeling his climax quickly approaching.

“As you wish,” Elrond whispered, taking him in again and again. Finally when he reached up and gently squeezed both of Faramir’s nipples in his fingers, the man shuddered, arching up into Elrond’s mouth and spilling himself down the elf’s throat.

Elrond smiled as he looked up at Faramir’s face, seeing his eyes clenched tightly closed as he gasped for breath. Carefully licking away the last of the creamy fluid, he slid up the bed, pulling Faramir into a tight embrace. “Rest for a while, my friend,” he whispered, feeling the man nod against his chest. Before long he dozed, still holding tightly to the Peredhel.

He woke to a hand gently stroking his face, trailing slowly through his hair. “Mmmm, that feels nice, Elrond.”

A deep chuckle made him open his eyes. “Not Elrond.” He looked up into piercing blue eyes, long blonde hair… and a stark naked elvish body. “Do we have a guest today, Elrond?”

“Indeed we do, Glorfindel. It seems your teasing last night made me so needy that I could not wait until you returned from patrol.”

“Oh? And how did he do at satisfying your needs?”

“Mmmm, quite well.” Faramir blushed as he listened to the two talking about him as if he was not there, but his embarrassment gave way once more to desire as Elrond rubbed his reawakening shaft against Faramir’s backside. “But there is always more to satisfy.”

Glorfindel smirked, kneeling next to the bed and grasping Faramir’s semi-erect shaft. “As there is in you too, it would seem.” He slowly stroked the smooth flesh, smiling in satisfaction at how the man moaned softly and arched into his touch.

“If you wish him to stay,” Elrond whispered against the man’s neck. “We sometimes invite another to share in our pleasure but understand it is not common among men.”

Faramir groaned softly as he was assaulted by dual sensations; Elrond continuing to slowly rub his shaft against Faramir’s backside, and Glorfindel gently stroking his rapidly re-awakening arousal.

“And if you think you can handle both of us,” Glorfindel added with a smirk.

Faramir’s ire flared. “I am no weakling. I can take anything you can give.”

A golden eyebrow climbed into Glorfindel’s hair as he looked over Faramir’s shoulder. “Did you hear a challenge there, Elrond?”

“Indeed I did, my love.”

Glorfindel’s hand began stroking a little faster. “Do you believe he has any idea of what he asks for?”

“Indeed I do not.”

“Should we make him regret his hasty words?”

“Indeed we should.”

“Will you stop talking about me as if I cannot hear you?” Faramir snapped, slapping Glorfindel’s hand away, his annoyance briefly overriding his desire.

Glorfindel’s grin just widened. “Well well… such fire in one so young.” He again reached for Faramir’s shaft but before he could grasp it, Faramir was slapping his hand again and pulling away from Elrond’s embrace.

“I did not come here to be ridiculed. Find someone else to insult, I wish no part of this.” He slid off the bed, but before he could move away, Elrond had grasped his wrist.

“Faramir… do men not gently tease those they care about?” For a moment, he thought about yanking his hand away, but the expression on Elrond’s face stopped him. The smile had disappeared, leaving nothing but regret and sadness. “We did not mean to hurt your feelings.” Slowly, the tension left Faramir’s body and, when Elrond gently tugged on his hand, he allowed himself to be pulled back to the bed. “Glorfindel is rather lacking in diplomatic skills. He often says hurtful things without thinking.”

Glorfindel snorted as he lay down on Faramir’s other side. “I know my limitations, Elrond. It is why Erestor is your Chief Counselor and I am Captain of your armies. I would survive no longer in a counsel meeting than he would out on the borders.”

Faramir chuckled, the last of his anger dissipating at Glorfindel’s self-effacing humor. “I do so hate meetings. Give me a sword over a quill any day.”

“Agreed… now if I remember correctly… a challenge was issued? Our young friend believes he can endure both our attentions at the same time?” Slowly his smile dropped and his keen blue eyes began glittering with predatory fire. A shiver ran down Faramir’s spine at his expression. Did he not know how honorable and gentle the elf was, he would have been afraid of him.

Elrond’s grip on the young Gondorian tightened as Glorfindel again moved closer, but instead of grasping Faramir’s shaft again, this time he slid his mouth over the hot flesh. Faramir groaned softly, arching back against Elrond’s chest. He groaned again when he felt one of Elrond’s fingers slide between his cheeks and brush lightly across his opening. Valar, what had he gotten himself into?

Elrond shifted away for a moment and when he moved back, his fingers were coated with something warm and slick. He again gently rubbed them across Faramir’s backside before carefully sliding one inside. Faramir cried out softly as he was breached and again as Glorfindel lowered his mouth fully over his erection.

After a while, Elrond added a second finger, then a third, enjoying the young ranger’s moans and cries with each addition. He shifted away once more and when he again moved closer, it was to lift Faramir’s upper leg and slowly press inside. Faramir bit his lip at the discomfort, willing his body to relax and accept Elrond’s shaft.

“Has it been a while?” Elrond whispered, gently nibbling on Faramir’s ear.

“Aye.” He shifted position slightly.

“I am in no hurry, and I would not hurt you. Take as long as you need.” Elrond nodded imperceptibly to Glorfindel, who resumed his attentions on the Gondorian’s shaft. Faramir whimpered softly as the Elda’s skillful mouth brought his desire higher and higher, barely noticing when Elrond once more began slowly pressing inside. “There,” Elrond said after a time.

Faramir nodded briefly as he felt Elrond’s body against his and knew the Peredhel was fully inside of him, but his body was too consumed with pleasure to do any more. Glorfindel’s mouth and hands were driving him closer and closer to his climax, licking and sucking on him with a skill Faramir had never experienced. He clenched his hands around the sheets as he felt his body make the last climb toward release…
…and then cried out in dismay as Glorfindel abruptly stopped all stimulation. “Why…” he gasped, reaching to grasp his over-stimulated shaft, but Elrond stopped him before he could touch himself.

Glorfindel grinned, leaning close enough to gently kiss Faramir’s lips, and then Elrond’s. “Because you issued us a challenge. And a challenge is something neither of us can resist.”

“But I…” His words became another soft cry as Elrond withdrew once, ever so slowly, before gently pushing back inside…

…and then stilling completely…

“We will not leave you wanting, my friend,” Elrond whispered against his ear. “We are not so cruel as to do that. But you will find your release when and how we choose to let you experience it.”

Faramir squirmed, trying to rub his shaft against the sheets, to gain enough leverage to move himself on Elrond’s arousal, something, anything, to relieve the unrelenting need in his body. He had been so close to his release, to be pulled away just at the brink of it was incredibly painful. But Elrond’s grip, though gentle, was firm, and he realized with dismay that the Peredhel was much stronger than he. He knew that had he clearly stated he wished to end this, they would release him. An elf did not take another against his will. It was simply not in their nature. But if he wanted relief other than by his own hand, he would have to endure whatever torment they put upon his over-aroused body. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he stopped struggling.

“Better,” Glorfindel whispered, bestowing several tiny licks upon the head of Faramir’s shaft. He bit his lip again, determined not to cry out, but could not stop a soft whimper as Elrond once again withdrew and pressed back in.

“Do you like that?” Elrond whispered into his ear.

“Yes… Valar!” he suddenly cried out as Elrond thrust into him at the same moment Glorfindel took his shaft into his mouth.

Glorfindel left his aching shaft alone for a moment, sliding up his body to softly lick Faramir’s nipples before gently kissing his lips. He slowly ran his hand down Faramir’s side and across his hip. “Are you beginning to wish you had not challenged us?”

Faramir groaned as Elrond again withdrew and entered him only once. “Not at all,” he ground out from between clenched teeth.

Elrond chuckled. “Indeed? We can do this all night if we wish.”

Faramir turned to glare at him. “You would not…”
Elrond raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And how do you know that?” His hand dropped to Faramir’s shaft, taking over where Glorfindel’s mouth had recently left.

“Because it would… be… cruel…” he gasped. “And elves… are not… cruel…”

“Hmm, he could be right, Elrond… we are not cruel and we would not keep you from release all night.” Glorfindel looked over Faramir’s shoulder, grinning at Elrond. “Only until you beg for it.”

Faramir clenched his jaw, his eyes flashing at the Captain. “I do not beg. Ever.”

Elrond again stilled his hips. “Then prepare for a long night.”

Faramir closed his eyes, keeping his jaw tightly clenched, trying to ignore the throbbing of his aching shaft, the warm hardness pressing into him, the occasional touches to his ears or nipples or stomach as Glorfindel’s mouth roamed across his body. He would not beg! NO! He was the son of the Steward of Gondor, and even if his title meant little to him, he was still a respected captain in Gondor’s armies. Captains did not beg.

He didn’t know how long it went on. The two elves brought him to the brink of his climax over and over and over, never allowing him to complete. To his dismay, he found himself softly whimpering as they pulled him back from his peak one more time, but he could not find the words to end it. His eyes flew open in surprise when he suddenly felt Elrond swiftly stroking in and out, Glorfindel’s mouth taking him deep several times, until he went crashing over the precipice, his aching body at last allowed release. He was vaguely aware of Elrond’s seed filling him and a deep moan from his other side that told him Glorfindel too had peaked.

He closed his eyes and relaxed as his body slowly recovered from the most intense release he had ever experienced. When he finally opened his eyes, he looked up at Glorfindel, who was watching him. “Why? I thought you wanted to hear me beg.”

“Because you would not have. I could see it in your eyes. Nothing was more important than keeping your pride. Not even allowing yourself the fulfillment your body so desperately needed.” He took Faramir’s hand, running a thumb across the back. “Your pride is your weakness, as it was mine. Mine led to my downfall, do not let your pride lead to yours.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know the story of Gondolin and my battle with the Balrog?”

“I do. What of it?”

“I could have held him off indefinitely, waited for him to make a mistake. But I did not. I was young and full of pride, I wanted so much to be lauded as a hero for valiantly saving my people from the Balrog. I rushed in impulsively when I should have watched and waited for the right opportunity. I could have destroyed him without being destroyed myself. He saw my mistake and made me pay for it with my life.”

“But you are lauded as a hero.”

“What good is a dead hero? I would have been far more use to my people as a live soldier than I was as a dead hero. I should have been there to protect them for many more years.” He lifted Faramir’s hand to his lips and gently kissed it. “I see the same pride in you that I once possessed.”

“And as I had as well,” Elrond interjected, causing Faramir to turn and look at him. “Our pride has cost us dearly. Do not let it do the same to you. Pride itself is not harmful, only when you let it get in the way of making a decision. You waited too long; you pushed yourself too hard. Was your climax even pleasurable? Or was it just a relief that you were no longer being denied?” Faramir looked away from the searching expression in the grey eyes, unwilling to admit the answer even to himself. He was grateful that Elrond did not press him for an answer, only gathered him up in his arms and kissed the top of his head. “Rest for a while, my friend. And when you wake, I will see that you experience pleasure that you are not required to beg for.”

“I am not tired,” Faramir said.

“Yes you are,” Elrond replied in a soft, soothing voice, and Faramir found his eyes sliding closed. Before long, he slept.

He woke to the sensation of gentle hands slowly stroking his flesh, sliding down his chest to grasp his flaccid shaft. He sighed softly and opened his eyes to see Elrond smiling at him. “Such a lovely weapon you have. Surely you have buried it in many sheaths.”

Faramir blushed at Elrond’s innuendos. “Not so many.”

Elrond slowly slid his hand up and down Faramir’s awakening shaft. “Aye, you said you prefer to be the sheath. Does this not lead to complications when a captain chooses the submissive role?”

“I do not choose my partners from among those I patrol with. Because yes, it does lead to…” His breath hitched in his throat as Elrond flicked his thumb across the head of his shaft. “…complications.” He reached a hand up, stroking the side of Elrond’s face. “I am a soldier because it is required of me. But when I am freed from my duties, I spend my time elsewhere, with those I am closer to and have more in common with.”

“Understood.” He smiled at the touches, turning his head to kiss Faramir’s fingertips. “Do not push yourself so hard this time. Ask for your release when you need it.”

Faramir moaned softly as he felt Glorfindel’s hands roam across his shoulders and back before he felt the elf’s arousal pressing against his backside. “May I?”

“Please.” He cried out softly as he felt Glorfindel’s shaft slowly slide into him.

“Am I hurting you?”

“A little, but it is alright.”

“No it is not alright.” He shifted position a little and Faramir felt the pressure lessen. The Elda was more generously endowed than Elrond but the new position was more comfortable. “Better?”

“Yes.” He moaned softly and arched his back as Elrond suddenly slid down his body and took his throbbing shaft into his mouth. Though he would not have thought it possible after the intensity of the climax he had experienced such a short time before, he felt himself rapidly begin the climb once more. He ran his hands through Elrond’s dark hair as the Peredhel licked and sucked him with abandon.

Feeling himself spiraling toward his climax as he was assaulted with pleasure from both elves, he looked over his shoulder at Glorfindel. “Please… no teasing this time.”

Glorfindel smiled, leaning closer to gently kiss him. “As you wish.” He grasped Faramir’s hips and thrust faster and faster and soon the young ranger was tumbling over the edge.

When he again regained awareness, he opened his eyes to Elrond watching him, gently stroking his tangled hair. “That was not so difficult now, was it?”

“No, it was not. I was being foolish.”

“Yes, but you are young. The young are supposed to be foolish now and then.” Elrond smiled. “It is for us elders to guide and teach you so that you become less foolish.”

Faramir smiled back. “And do you use this method of teaching for all your students?”

Elrond snorted. “I do not but Glorfindel would if I let him.” He yelped when the Elda suddenly reached over Faramir’s shoulder and yanked his hair, causing Faramir to laugh loudly. His eyes narrowed. “Are you laughing at me, young one?”

Faramir bit his lip, trying to fight down the grin. “I am.” He yelped when he felt his own hair being pulled. “Ouch!” Elrond’s breath exploded from him in a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh as Glorfindel yanked on Faramir’s hair. Faramir grinned and flipped over on the bed, grasping Glorfindel’s shaft. “Do that again and I will yank on something a bit more tender than hair.”

“Ha! The prankster has the tables turned on himself,” Elrond called out, laughing.
The three wrestled on the bed for a few moments, teasing, tickling, and jerking on various body parts until they were all breathless with laughter. When they finally stopped, Faramir was again in the middle, both elves pressing up against his sides. For many minutes nothing was said.

“Are you sure you cannot stay longer?” Elrond finally asked. Faramir looked up into the ancient eyes, surprised to see the sadness in them.

“I am afraid not. I need to return as quickly as possible with your acceptance of our offer. We cannot afford to be without weaponry for much longer. The strength of the enemy grows by the day.”

“Of course. I had only hoped…”

“Hoped what?”

“It is not important.” He looked away.

Faramir gently turned Elrond’s face back to look into his eyes. “Hoped what, Elrond?”

The Peredhel sighed. “That you could stay. Though I know it is not possible. You have your responsibilities as we have ours. I just… it has been many years since one spoke to my heart as you do.” Faramir blinked back tears as Glorfindel nodded in agreement. “It would be nice if we had more time together is all.”

“Perhaps someday.” He felt Glorfindel’s arms tighten around him from behind.

“Perhaps someday,” the captain whispered.

Twenty years later (Five years after the War of the Ring)…

The Prince of Ithilien walked quickly along the covered pathways of his city, his step hastened by his page’s insistence that very important visitors were approaching. He ran through his mind the list of possible candidates. Few seemed likely to even consider a visit, much less be one who was so important that he had to go out in such dreadful weather to greet them personally. He glared up at the sky as the rain continued falling, seemingly harder than ever. Only the knowledge that the frequent rain kept his beloved Ithilien the green paradise he so loved kept him from truly resenting the downpours.

He hurried his step, reaching up to brush back his thick hair, now beginning to be streaked with grey. Anyone who had known the young Faramir would have been hard-pressed to see the quiet, dutiful young man he once was in the strong, independent, courageous person he had become. War had changed him, that he would admit. What he would be less likely to admit, but what was no less true, was that a single day with two ancient elves had changed him even more.

He smiled a little as he remembered that day when he was just a young man, on an errand from his father that he barely wanted and doubted he could succeed at. He remembered the pleasure, the caring, but more than anything, he remembered the lesson he had been taught. Did Elrond know how close his vision had come to reality? Would he have done the right thing had he not been encouraged to question his father’s orders when they became unreasonable, tinged with the madness of the Palantir? Would he have allowed Frodo and Sam to continue? Somehow he doubted it. He was still proud of his people, sometimes fiercely so, but his pride was now tempered with wisdom.

He shook himself out of his reverie, wondering what had caused the memories to resurface so strongly after so many years. Finally he reached the courtyard where important guests were received. He kept himself shielded on an overhanging walkway, awaiting his new arrivals. He did not have long to wait as two riders on horseback galloped into the yard, their faces shrouded by deeply hooded cloaks. They reached the center of the yard and swung down nearly in unison, striding quickly toward him. His hand dropped to the pommel of his sword as he tensed, more out of habit than because he thought there was any true threat. His guards intercepted all visitors, and only allowed passage to those whose intentions were honorable.

The two visitors stopped a few paces from him, glancing over him for a moment before tossing back their hoods. His heart leaped in his chest as he finally recognized them. He suddenly understood why the memories had been so vivid that morning. Though he had not known they were coming, some part of him must have sensed it, must have felt them approaching. They grinned at him before the blonde slowly advanced, leaning forward and shaking his head like a dog, soaking Faramir. The peal of delighted laughter that burst forth from Elrond at Glorfindel’s display stripped away any small bit of annoyance Faramir may have felt at the unexpected shower.

Elrond stepped forward as well and soon the three were holding each other tightly, happy to be reunited after so long apart. When they finally separated, Faramir’s face was covered with equal parts joy and confusion. “How can you be here? I thought Rivendell…”

“The remainder of our people have sailed. Men have learned to stand on their own. Rivendell was no longer needed.” Elrond interrupted, reaching up to stroke the side of Faramir’s face. “And now I can turn my attention to more personal matters.”

“I thought you would sail to the west.”

“We will in time,” Glorfindel said. “But not for many years.”

“Do you not remember what you said to us that day?” Elrond asked, smiling as he stroked Faramir’s cheek.
“Twenty years may be nothing to an elf, but it was a lifetime ago to a man, Elrond.” He took the Peredhel’s hand, squeezing gently. “Though I remember that night well, I cannot recall any specific words that were spoken.”

“Someday… perhaps we could be together someday is what you said…”

Glorfindel pulled them both into an embrace once more and whispered into Faramir’s ear. “Someday has arrived, my friend…”

THE END

Author’s notes: I made several cryptic references to things that happen later in life to Faramir, trying to keep them deliberately vague as it would seem an elf’s visions wouldn’t be precise. In case I made them too vague and you didn’t get the reference, here are the explanations:

“But I do know your brother will die so that many others might live.”

This of course refers to Boromir’s sacrifice to save the Hobbits.

“There will come a day when you will face a momentous decision. Your father will order you to pursue one course of action, while you know in your heart that you must choose another, that what he orders would have grave consequences, the repercussions of which would reach far beyond Gondor.”

And this is when Denethor orders the One Ring to be returned to Gondor, but Faramir chooses instead to let Sam and Frodo continue on with their journey to Mt. Doom.

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

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