Faramir Fiction Archive

Tales from Gondor (R)

Written by Minx

23 September 2012 | 36179 words

Title: A Day in Ithilien
Characters: Aragorn / Faramir
Rating: G
Author’s Notes: For the ‘home’ prompt on 25fluffyfics. Many thanks to Iris for reading through this!

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Faramir pulled his cloak close with one hand as he stepped in through the arched doorway, the tallow lamp held up in his other hand. Aragorn followed him quietly, stooping slightly and putting out a hand for support as he stepped into the dark enclosure. Faramir was using the lamp to light torches placed in brackets on the wall.

As the torches lit up, the enclosure came into view, a large rock chamber.

“Welcome to Henneth Annûn,” Faramir said quietly. Aragorn had to strain his ears to hear him above the roar of the water that curtained the entrance to the cave.

Aragorn looked around the high-walled cavern in wonder. He had heard much about this refuge, secluded as it was, accessible only by a passage that he was one among those privileged enough to see. It was no longer inhabited by rangers as it had been earlier, but still served as a refuge and storehouse of emergency supplies, as did all the old ranger shelters. There were a few barrels and casks placed in one corner, containing salted meats and ale, a pouch full of healing herbs and a few pelts and furs.

They were visiting Ithilien for a few days, Argaorn having decided to accompany his Steward on one of his regular trips to oversee the resettlement and restoration works. When Faramir had asked him if he’d like to accompany him on his visit to Henneth Annûn to check on the supplies, Aragorn had agreed.

“This is where we would gather each evening to report the day’s sightings, and to sup,” Faramir said, leading him further into the cave.

Some of the trestles and tables they had used still lay stacked in one corner. Faramir showed him the area where the rangers had slept, large, and dry, but cold from the proximity to the waterfalls. And he showed him into a small enclosure, at the end of the cavern.

“This was my chamber,” Faramir said, as he placed the lantern on a ledge along the wall.

Aragorn looked around the enclosure. A few tiny pinpricks of light filtered in through fissures in the rock, and along with the tallow lantern afforded some light to the dank chamber. This far inside the cavern, the roar of the cascading water outside seemed a little muted.

The enclosure was small, smaller even than the tiny terrace outside Faramir’s chambers in Minas Tirith. A natural ledge ran along one wall, forming a natural shelf. All that lay there now was a wooden mug. Bits of straw indicated where a pallet must have been placed, next to the ledge. In the corner opposite a large flat slab of polished rock had been placed on top of smaller rocks, to form a table. Aragorn walked towards it, and smiled slightly as he noticed the faint dark smudges left by ink stains on the surface. He could well imagine Faramir sitting there each evening methodically writing out his reports in the dim candlelight. He often found the younger man working through the evenings in Minas Tirith, oblivious to the dimming light outside.

Faramir led him out through a narrower passage, showing him the small, dark and cold healing rooms on the way. The narrow passageway led a way out to rocky outcrop that Aragorn could see served as a good vantage point.

The bright sunlight outside almost hurt after the darkness of the caves, but the view the outcrop avoided was breathtaking. The falls fell below them, and the Anduin snaked faraway into emerald green lands. Far to the west, under a cloudy haze they could see the browns of buildings. And out to the east, mountains that were now clearly visible.

“Those were always under smoke then,” Faramir said softly, before turning to gaze towards the west.

Aragorn nodded.

“You can see the moon set from here at night,” Faramir said, “Over the Mindolluin.”

“It must be a beautiful sight,” Aragorn said, quietly.

“It is,” Faramir agreed, “It is quiet all round, and all is dark save the silver of the moon over the snows.”

Aragorn glanced towards him. It seemed to him, Faramir had said more in the last half hour than he normally spoke in an entire day.

“I did many a watch duty here after joining the rangers,’ Faramir said smiling, and led him back into the cavern, to the alcove that had been his chamber. They unpacked the bread, cheese and wine they had brought along and ate at the table, discussing the other duties they had to complete before they returned to MinasTirith

After they ate, Faramir checked the supplies, replenishing the stores as required. It felt colder inside, after the warmth of the sun outside. There was no scope to light a fire. Unlike in the northern wilds where Aragorn had spent his days as a ranger, the Ithilien rangers spent much of their time in hiding and took every effort to ensure they could not be tracked. Henneth Annûn was the most strategic of their strongholds, and every effort had been made to keep the location secret.

He listened as Faramir spoke of the caves, and how they had been formed by changing the course of the river, and of the rangers converting it to their refuge. The younger man sounded different, more assured, more animated, his voice betraying his excitement as he described the way the rangers could be summoned from across the forests and hillsides by a series of birdcalls, of their gathering here together, of yule celebrations with no more than old breads and dried fruits, of the excitement the packet from Cair Andros brought with it, for along with food and supplies came letters and tidings from their homes.

“You liked it here,” Aragorn commented softly, as they were riding back to Emyn Arnen.

“In Henneth Annûn?” Faramir asked, “I suppose I did. It was dry and comfortable, and served as an excellent base for us.”

“In Ithilien,” Aragorn said, aware that outside of the refuges, a ranger’s life in Ithilien was often tiring, damp and marked by shortages of supplies, “You like the forests, and the fresh river-scented air, away from the stone of the city. I can see now why you oft spoke of Ithilien with such longing when you took on the mantle of the Stewardship.”

“Did I?” Faramir asked, “I – I suppose I did. I was unused to being in the city for as long as that, although I spent my childhood there.”

But it was, Aragorn knew, a childhood that was marked by loneliness and a constant need to live up to expectations.

“Ithilien – it always felt more of a home to me than Minas Tirith,” Faramir said heavily, “I learnt much here – tracking hunting, honing my archery, and – and the men… they spoke to me as one of them. They advised me, helped me, and when I spoke, they listened.”

It was late in the evening when they returned to the house in Emyn Arnen. Aragorn spent much of the ride thinking of Faramir’s words. It was at his request that Faramir had not moved to this house permanently. Faramir had once expressed a longing to live in Emyn Arnen and visit Minas Tirith regularly to attend councils.

That had been before they had discovered the intimacy they now shared. Now, Aragorn had insisted, and Faramir had agreed that the young steward would stay by his side in Minas Tirith, and visit Ithilien regularly to oversee the resettlement. And yet as he rode on, and watched Faramir’s animated face and gestures, Aragorn wondered if he had done wrong.

He broached the matter after they had supped. They sat with spiced wine on the open terrace in the house at Emyn Arnen. Aragorn stood by the wall, watching the valley below, while Faramir curled up on one the chairs.

“Ithilien was always as home to you was it not…and more to your liking than Minas Tirith?” he asked

“I suppose you could say that,’ Faramir replied, a little startled by the sudden question.

“And you stay in Minas Tirith only because I ask you to,” Aragorn said softly, “Away from a place you love, in a place that you found stifling and full of memories you seek to lose.”

Faramir bit his lip thoughtfully, “I did stay on in Minas Tirith then because you asked me to. And it is true that as a ranger I had thought of home as Ithilien, where I could be as I sought to be. Now though…” he paused and rising, walked up to Aragorn.

“And now?” Aragorn asked curiously. He found he was very anxious to know the answer.

“Now,” Faramir replied softly, lips curling into a small smile, “I think of home as where you are.”

Aragorn smiled back at him and pulled him closer.

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