Faramir Fiction Archive

Tales from Gondor (R)

Written by Minx

23 September 2012 | 36179 words

Title: Dancing Lessons
Characters: Aragorn/Faramir
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Everything is Tolkien’s
Summary: Aragorn needs to learn a dance
Author’s Notes: Written for 25fluffyfics for the “Dancing” prompt.
Much thanks to Iris for her help!

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“A dance?” Aragorn murmured in surprise.

“It’s customary in the spring festival,” Faramir said shrugging, “We have not celebrated the spring festival these last few years, so they are eager to abide by all the usual traditions this year.”

“And I would have to dance?” Aragorn asked.

Faramir glanced up at him, “You would have to dance with the first set, yes. It is performed by a set of dancers in a circle, you see. I shall be with you, and Legolas could join our set, and perhaps, cousin Elphir and his lady, and Lothiriel. The rest will follow in other sets. It’s not very long, there are only five movements.”

“Well, if I must, then I must,” Aragorn murmured, “But you will have to teach me how to perform this dance.”

“Of course.”

They had the first lesson in the large terrace overlooking the private gardens, early the next morning. Aragorn had been firm that no one must know of these lessons, especially as he anticipated it would take him a while to learn it.

Both men wore just loose tunics and leggings. It was barely dawn, and just a little chilly. Winter still lingered, a long dreary one, and the spring was certainly much awaited.

“Are you certain, you would prefer we do this here?” Faramir asked again, a little doubtfully, “If someone should see…”

“There is no one this early,” Aragorn said, and Faramir was inclined to agree. Even the birds were yet to awake.

“Should we start?” Faramir asked.

Aragorn nodded, “I think it would help if you would do the steps first, and I watch, so I know what it is I will be learning,” he said calmly.

Faramir was, not surprisingly, startled by the suggestion. Aragorn made every effort to not smile as the Steward’s cheeks turned slightly pink. It was clearly not because of the cold.

“You want me to dance first?” Faramir mumbled, incredulously.

“Yes, it will help.”

“Alone?” Faramir asked again, awkwardly, his voice betraying his uncertainty.

Faramir might have been the captain of the Ithilien Rangers and Aragorn’s capable and very intelligent Steward, but those roles allowed him to stay in the background, as he liked to. Aragorn understood that he was uncomfortable being the centre of attention, and a part of him felt almost guilty at asking him to do something that would so obviously make Faramir feel he was being pulled into the forefront.

But then, he reasoned with himself, it was only he here, so Faramir had little reason to be uncomfortable.

“Yes, love, please,” he said coaxingly, “Unless I can see what it is I am to do, I shall feel I’m doing it wrong.”

“I don’t,” Faramir started uncomfortably, and bit his lip, “Th-there’s no music either.”

It took a little more of his gently persuasive words, a few more worries aired very subtly on what the citizenry might think of their king losing a step in the dance, and then Faramir agreed. And Aragorn offered to sing as he danced. He found he knew the songs that were used.

“We start in a circle, holding hands,” Faramir spoke nervously, “And then let go and alternately move forward like this.”

And so Faramir began dancing, awkwardly at first, aware that he had an audience, and that the man watching had seen him naked, and made love to him barely hours prior. Those thoughts only served to distract him more. He stumbled his way through the first movement, simple though it was, a mere movement of feet, Aragorn’s softly voiced words mingling with the self-consciousness he felt.

The second movement was just as awkward, as he found himself listening to Aragorn’s voice, husky and soft and wonderful. By the third movement he had managed only slightly better, as he forced himself to follow the rhythm of the song Aragorn sang, and to think of watching Aragorn’s fluid well-toned body matching his movements. He broke off his own commentary, half-closed his eyes, and relaxed as he envisioned Aragorn moving as he did, the king’s well-sculpted body, twirling as he did.

By the fourth, he had relaxed enough to remember how it had felt dancing in his younger days, laughing in the company of his younger cousins, as they had made up the second set. He found himself remembering the fragrances of the early spring flowers, strung in garlands and posies over bowers, columns and arches in the gardens, the happy laughter of young voices, the lilting music of harps and viols, under a fresh bright sky.

Aragorn watched with sharp eyes as he sang, only barely listening to Faramir’s instructions. He watched the stilted, awkward movements give way to more fluid, graceful moves. Faramir had the smaller, more agile build and the graceful movements of a man who had spent many years moving silently yet swiftly through the woods, up trees, down hillsides. He also, at times, had the awkwardness of one who had learnt at a young age to tread cautiously and quietly.

As the movements improved, legs twisting just so, back arching a little, arms rising and falling, he found himself glad he had insisted they practise here, alone, where he alone could watch his younger lover go from shy and introverted to capable ranger. It occurred to him suddenly that Faramir was extremely fluid and agile, and his body had a certain flexibility and grace. Oh he knew it, from the way Faramir stretched catlike over him, the way those long legs would wrap around his waist, but now it seemed reinforced. And Aragorn found his voice going hoarser as he forced himself to concentrate on the song.

“And then,” Faramir was saying hurriedly, now, “We move back, and pair up with the person next to us, hold hands and step away. That’s all.” His face was tinged red from the exertion, his neatly tied hair had strands hanging loose, but he looked happy. And relieved at having concluded.

He glanced curiously at Aragorn’s wistful features, “Would you like to try it now?”

Aragorn took a step forward as suggested, smiling as he did so, strangely pleased by just having Faramir near him. He bent forward in greeting, and Faramir’s hand rested lightly on his hip to tell him just how much to bend, just enough to be courteous to one’s fellow dancers, no too much, for he was after all, king.

The second movement was simple, there were claps involved. Faramir’s hand continued to rest comfortably on his hip. Here after all, there was no one to see such a gesture, and remark upon it.

The third had a half twirl that meant Faramir had to stop him from doing a full circle, by placing a hand on Aragorn’s shoulder and resting the other palm on his chest. Faramir’s hands moved then, one hand down to his waist, the other back at his hip gently nudging him to turn his upper body.

“And then you raise your hands and clap them lightly over your head, and turn a little to your right… move your left leg forward, not your right!”

The hand slipped off his waist and he frowned to himself. The fingers on his hip moved slightly lower, and Faramir was kneeling by him now.

“And you bend it slightly at the knee, like so,” he said, resting a hand under Aragorn’s right knee to show him, his fingers firm but familiar through the soft cloth of the leggings.

“Mm – hm.”

The fourth movement involved getting back in position, and Faramir’s hands returned to his waist, and then one hand slid slowly and lovingly down his thigh to his knee.

When Aragorn returned to the original position, Faramir’s hand rested on Aragorn’s upper thigh, lightly stroking the soft fabric, feeling the firm muscle underneath. Aragorn watched the fingers splayed on the gray cloth of his leggings, the same fingers that often worked something akin to magic each night by moving just a little upward. He couldn’t stop himself from letting out a small sighing sound. The younger man looked up at that, his wistful grey eyes meeting Aragorn’s tender gaze. He smiled softly as he rose, and took Aragorn’s hand in his.

“And then you pair with the person next to you, and step away,” he said. Aragorn smiled at him and grasping his wrist took a few steps back.

“I think I can manage that,” he murmured.

“It is simple, they say,” Faramir said, “But it is a good thing Legolas will be in our set, and my cousins, they dance well.”

“As do you,” Aragorn said smiling, his hands still holding Faramir’s.

“I-” Faramir’s cheeks reddened again. Aragorn pulled him into his arms, snaking his hands around him

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

Faramir smiled at that, the small delighted smile he gave whenever Aragorn made proclamations like this, “You dance beautifully too.”

“Yes, I noticed you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

He didn’t think he would tell Faramir any time soon that he had already learnt this dance in his earlier days in Gondor.

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