Faramir Fiction Archive

Tales from Gondor (R)

Written by Minx

23 September 2012 | 36179 words

Title: A Rainy Night
Author: Minx
Pairing: Aragorn / Faramir
Rating: PG
Warnings: Slash, fluff
Disclaimer: All characters and places are Tolkien’s.
Feedback: Welcomed with open arms:)
Author’s Notes: Written for the ‘Bath’ prompt for the 25fluffyfics LJ community. Many thanks to Iris for her help!
Summary: Faramir returns to Minas Tirith wet and cold

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Aragorn walked swiftly down to his apartments, as soon as he received the message that the Steward had returned from Osgiliath, after a week away from the city. He reached in time to watch Faramir shuffle up the hallway leading in to the building from the stables. The younger man looked wet and cold and completely miserable. His clothes clung to his body, streaked with mud, and droplets of water dripped from his hair and cloak. A leafy twig hung down his hair. His boots squelched on the floor as he moved.

“Aragorn!” he said as he noticed the king, a sweet and loving but very tired smile breaking out on his face.

Aragorn smiled back and pulled Faramir into his arms and kissed him gently on his forehead. “I’m glad you’re back!” the king said, “I wondered if you might have decided to stop for shelter somewhere on the way and returned in the morning instead.”

Faramir sighed and rested his head against the king’s chest, wrapping his own arms around the broader frame. “I didn’t really think of that,” he admitted, “None of the men did either. I suppose we were all anxious to return home,” he said.

“You must be very tired,” the king murmured gently, “That was quite a downpour; you must have been caught right in the middle of it.”

Faramir sighed and pulled away a little, “It was a little wet,” he admitted, and then staring at the king, gasped. “Oh!” he said softly “I’ve got your clothes wet. And muddied. Oh!”

“Well, then I suppose I’d better get out of them, hadn’t I?”

Faramir grinned tiredly, “That does sound nice,” he admitted, but made no effort to move out of the king’s arms, “We could both get out of our clothes… that will be very nice,” he slurred sleepily.

“I’ve had a bath drawn for you,” Aragorn said gently.

“So tired,” Faramir murmured. And then pouted up at Aragorn, “Don’t want to move.”

“It’ll make you feel far, far better,” Aragorn said, as he rubbed Faramir’s back gently, “And I could help you.”

Faramir blinked at that.

“Oh” he said.

“Come,” Aragorn said, and led him through to the bathing chamber.

The king’s bathing chamber was constructed in the style of the baths in Imladris – a large, fire-lit, warm wood-floored room, with a rectangular, stone lined, sunken pool in the middle of it, so unlike the tiny chambers with the old creaking wooden bath tubs that Faramir was more used to. A pile of soft towels were placed by one end, as were small earthen pots filled with cleaning herbs. One side of the room opened out to a small uncovered terrace, allowing a glimpse of the cloudy skies outside. The storm had abated and a few stars could be seen.

Steam rose from the pool. The aroma of lavender and other herbs and oils wafted through the room and Faramir found himself relaxing a little just from the fragrance.

“Let’s get you out of those clothes, shall we?” Aragorn suggested gently.

Faramir nodded tiredly.

Aragorn helped him remove the sodden tunic and pants. Faramir’s body was streaked with dirt and small scratches. The king pursed his lips at the sight. The younger man yawned and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He moved slowly as Aragorn gently tugged him towards the tub.

“The water should be just warm enough,” he said.

Faramir stepped in. The water was indeed just right. He sank into it and sighed, allowing the water to flow over his naked skin.

“This is nice,” he murmured, smiling tiredly at Aragorn.

“Good,” Aragorn said, and shrugging off his own robe, settled into the water beside him.

He slowly nudged Faramir so that the younger man was soon settled between his legs. He gently removed the twigs and leaves tangled in the wet hair, gathering water in his cupped palms and running it through the raven locks.
Picking up a soft towel, he wet it, and slowly cleansed Faramir’s face, wiping away the smudges of mud carefully. Then he gently nudged Faramir forward, and ran it over his back. He wiped away the streaks of dirt that covered the lean body, and dabbed at the numerous scratches, cleaning them gently, running the cloth slowly from the shoulders down to his buttocks.
The younger man bit back a hiss more than once as the cleansing herbs in the water stung the broken skin. Each time, the king stilled his movements to murmur soft, comforting words in his ear.

Once Faramir’s back was done, Aragorn tugged him back, so that his head rested against his shoulder, picked a fresh towel and saw to his arms and chest and stomach. Encouraging the younger man to shift sideways, so that he was now seated partly on Aragorn’s thighs, he moved onto the long legs, down the thighs and calves all the way down to his toes, pursing his lips a bit as he came across a purpling bruise on the right knee, before moving back up to the lower abdomen.

Faramir moaned softly as the cloth ran over his groin area, and reached between his legs to swipe his inner thighs.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, as he spread his legs a little, flushing slightly as his now warmed body began responding.

“I’m glad,” Aragorn whispered in his ear, continuing to work the towel over Faramir’s lower body, “I’ve missed you greatly too.”

Faramir sighed and leaned into his shoulder, resting his fingers across Aragorn’s damp chest.

“We should rise now,” Aragorn said gently, lowering him down reluctantly, “The water has begun to cool, and I would not have you catch a chill.”

Faramir watched through half-lidded eyes as the king rose from the water, his long sinewy limbs moving gracefully, drops of water glistening on the tanned skin in the firelight. He let himself be helped out of the pool, and gratefully accepted the king’s help in towelling himself dry.

“There now, let’s get you into bed,” Aragorn said softly.

“Oh good!” Faramir said, and shifting, angled his face up to kiss the king.

“I thought you were tired,” Aragorn murmured as their lips met.

Faramir snorted in response and deepened the kiss.

Faramir woke the next morning in Aragorn’s arms, feeling warm and dry and far, far better indeed. They shared a few gentle kisses and broke away reluctantly, only since they were to breakfast with Aragorn’s foster brothers and Legolas.

“I must admit,” Elladan mused aloud once they had sat down, “I always thought Estel had seemed rather allergic to baths. But strangely he looks a lot cleaner nowadays.”

Aragorn stared up in surprise.

“Perhaps,” Elrohir said grinning at a sheepish Faramir, “He found himself a cure?”

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