Faramir Fiction Archive

Stone (NC-17)

Written by Minx

26 August 2011 | 2549 words

Title: Stone
Author: Minx
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Faramir
Warnings: Slash, non-con

The Palantír shows many sights

Many thanks to Iris for reading through and for some very lovely suggestions and ideas on the plot and for reading through and titling:)

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IV

He had opened the tower door and stepped in. The tall figure sat hunched over the glowing orb. He walked up to the older man and placed a hand on his shoulder seeking to rouse him. The seated figure rose with a start, shoving Faramir away as he did so, causing the younger man to stumble and fall, his head striking the sharp edge of the mantle nearby. The stone floor was cold and hard under him. The older man exclaimed in surprise, and then stooping, reached a hand out to him.

Faramir grasped it, dazed and aching from the blow to his head, only to be shoved down onto the large table, probing hands roving his body, tearing at his clothes, gentle mocking words and laughter brushing aside his feeble protests as he was held down, touched and stroked.

He remembered looking up into shining, smiling grey eyes as the older man had leaned over him, even as he had barely held onto consciousness, and the soft, insistent words he had to struggle to hear as his legs were nudged apart. He remembered the feel of the warm body over him as he was entered swiftly and painfully; he had pleaded to be left, to wait until later…anywhere else… Rough hands had grabbed at his torso and stomach, digging into him as the thrusts became more forceful, pushing into him until he could do no more than just wait for it to be over.

And then suddenly it was over. He remembered the cold insistent hands on his skin suddenly leaving him, a strange strangled cry.

Moaning, he sank now to the floor, hugging the torn robe around his aching body, as Mithrandir’s words came back to him.

“People react to the stone differently. Your father was overwhelmed by all that he knew, and as time passed, and as Sauron manipulated the stones, he saw more that induced despair and less that evoked hope. His mind was assailed by the Palantír. He would not have been able to stop watching. Few can. It shows you far more than you should see. It makes you yearn for all manner of things.”

“Aragorn has used it before,” Mithrandir had said, “But over time, he too may be moved by what he learns. He may act in a manner that may seem unusual. And as his Steward you will need to guide him and give him all the help he needs. Indeed, he is in the tower now, perhaps you should go there.”

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