Faramir Fiction Archive

Tales from Gondor (R)

Written by Minx

23 September 2012 | 36179 words

Characters: Aragorn/Faramir
Warnings: Mild slash
Disclaimer: All characters and places are tolkien’s.
Author’s Notes: Written for 25fluffyfics for the ‘Writer’s Choice’
prompt, which I took as Snow.
Much thanks to Iris for her help!

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It was still dark outside when Faramir woke. He opened his eyes and blinked into the darkness of the small room in the old ranger shelter they had camped in. He sat up sleepily, pushing down the thick blankets that had been draped over him. There was enough light filtering in from outside through the covered windows, for him to look around him.

Aragorn lay beside him, on the pile of furs, still asleep. He’d kicked his blankets away and lay in his nightshirt, seemingly oblivious to the chilly morning air.

Faramir grinned and moved over to kneel by Aragorn. He ran a finger over the king’s lips, and grinned again as they curved into a small smile as Aragorn murmured something softly. Faramir shifted and pressed his lips against Aragorn’s. The king’s eyes flew open and he gave his steward an amused look as they kissed softly. Faramir let himself be pulled down onto the furs and cuddled against Aragorn, smiling. He was unused to the biting cold they were experiencing in their northward journey. Aragorn though was well used to it after his days with the northern rangers.

“I’ll rekindle the fire,” Aragorn said smiling, and rose, ensuring that he pulled the blankets over Faramir as he did so.

Faramir thought he could get warm enough just huddling against Aragorn but decided a little extra warmth wouldn’t hurt.

Aragorn moved towards the grate quietly, not wishing to awaken their companions occupying the other rooms in the shelter. On his way, he shifted the curtain a little to glance outside the window, and then smiled.

“Faramir,” he said softly.

“Mm,” the younger man replied from under the blankets.

“It snowed last night,” Aragorn said.

Faramir sat up on hearing that. “Will that delay us reaching Imladris?” he asked quietly, knowing how much Aragorn was looking forward to seeing his Ada and the twins again.

“No, it should not delay us much,” Aragorn said, “We are nearly there… we may need to go slower though. But that is not why I speak of the snow.”

Faramir gave him a puzzled look.

“You have never seen the snows of the North,” Aragorn said smiling.

Faramir had certainly never seen a sight such as this. The sun was yet to rise, and it was still grey outside but there was enough light to observe the snow. The entire area around the shelter was cloaked in white. The ground was ankle deep in snow and deeper still in some places and his heavy boots sank in with each step. The bare trees around them were powdered with white and here and there, clumps of snow had gathered on their boughs.

He was still staring around him in awe, when he felt the coldness bite into his neck and then slide down his back. He yelped in shock and turned around only to be greeted by more snow flung on his face this time. He ducked just in time but the sudden movement had him sinking to his knees through the soft whiteness.

“Aragorn!” he yelled, as a fresh lump of snow hit his face, right on target this time, forcing him to fall back so that finally he found himself sprawled in the snow, the cold rapidly seeping into his backside and legs through the pants he’d hurriedly pulled on. He groaned, “That was not very nice!”

“You weren’t supposed to turn around!” Aragorn retorted, as he put a hand out to help Faramir up.

“Oh!” Faramir murmured, and grasping Aragorn’s hand, promptly pulled him down, causing the king to yelp in surprise as he landed atop him in an ungainly heap.

“Now who’s being not nice?” Aragorn huffed.

Faramir smirked as Aragorn grumbled again, and shifted over him. Aragorn looked so happy, he realised, to be out in the wilds again. He smiled up at him.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, as Aragorn raised himself off Faramir so that he was half straddling his lower body.

Aragorn stared back at him, and smiled. “Flatterer,” he said, good-humouredly, and bending a little, kissed Faramir lightly on his forehead.

Faramir made the soft, approving little sound that never failed to send a thrill through Aragorn, and shifting his face up slightly, brushed his lips against Aragorn’s cheek, darting his tongue out to swipe at his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated, softly, as he raised a hand and ran it gently over Aragorn’s chest, and shifted his lower body a little.

Aragorn moaned a little at the movement. Faramir’s fingers moved slowly, exploring Aragorn’s chest, running over the thick cloth of his tunic. Aragorn kissed him lightly on his lips, welcoming the touch, and slipped his own hands under the Steward’s tunic, running them lightly over the flat stomach. He ran his tongue down Faramir’s jaw, to the tiny dip at the base of his throat.

He heard Faramir gasp softly, as he lapped at his throat, and felt him buck slightly against him. The younger man’s hip brushed against his hardening shaft, and he heard himself moan in response, his hands clutching the younger man’s waist, as he shifted to straddle Faramir properly.

He felt his knees come into contact with the ground, and sink through the cold wet snow, the sensation causing him to sit up suddenly. He glanced down at the snow-covered ground, and stilled his movements.

Faramir stared at him in surprise.

“Aragorn?” he said confused, gripping Aragorn’s wrist lightly, “What happened?”

Aragorn stared at the younger man, lying half sunken on the cold, wet snow-covered ground, his face flushed, whether from the cold or recent sudden exertion, he couldn’t tell. He rose swiftly, and gently pulled Faramir up, noting how wet his clothes had become. He should have realised that, he thought… he should have noticed…

“It’s cold here and wet! You must be freezing! I shouldn’t have-“

“I’m fine, Aragorn,” Faramir said, reassuringly, as Aragorn stared at him fretfully.

“No you’re not. You’re cold, and wet and unused to this weather. Forgive me. I shouldn’t have thrown snow at you like that, or – or-“

“Or tried to make love to me in the snow?” Faramir sighed, “But I’d have liked that.”

“Absolutely not! You could fall ill,” Aragorn said as he gently tugged Faramir towards the shelter. The younger man was starting to shiver by the time Aragorn had led him back to their room and helped him onto the pile of furs by the grate.

“Let’s get these clothes off you,” he suggested.

“Yes, let’s,” Faramir said grinning tiredly, even as he continued shivering.

Aragorn gave him a mock glare and helped him pull off the sodden clothes and rub down his body and hair with a dry towel, before wrapping a large blanket around him.

He rekindled the fire in the grate swiftly, and joined Faramir, pulling him into his arms. The younger man leaned against him, resting his still damp head against his chest, stifling a huge yawn.

The small room was soon filled with warmth, but Faramir still felt a little cold and found himself snuggling closer to Aragorn.

“How do you feel now?” Aragorn asked gently.

“Good,” Faramir pronounced, his head still burrowed against Aragorn’s chest. He stifled another yawn before continuing, “Warm. It’s not cold. Or wet. I love you.”

“And I love you,” Aragorn said, kissing him lightly on his forehead, “Rest now. We still have time before the others rise and are ready to leave.”

“Aragorn,” Faramir said after a while.

“Yes, love?”

“The snow might be beautiful, but I think you are far more so,” came the sleepy reply.

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