Faramir Fiction Archive

Tales from Gondor (R)

Written by Minx

23 September 2012 | 36179 words

Title: Legacies
Pairing: Aragorn / Faramir
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: LOTR and its characters are Tolkien’s.
Summary: For the ‘Gifts’ prompt on 25fluffyfics
A/N: Many thanks to Iris for her help:)

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Aragorn walked down the familiar hallways of the old Stewards’ wing, in search of his own Steward. Sunlight streamed into the wide hallways through open windows and balconies that looked out over the bustling city.

Aragorn found Faramir in Boromir’s rooms as he’d been informed. The Steward had long earlier indicated that he would prefer not to move into either his father or brother’s larger apartments, giving them over instead to the use of the citadel, especially as they were constantly entertaining visitors in these days.

He stood at the open doorway and watched quietly for a few seconds. Boromir’s old apartments were large, spacious and comfortable, full of sunshine streaming in from open windows and balconies looking out onto the vast gardens of the city, quite in contrast to Faramir’s smaller rooms, with their bleak, grey walls. The furniture inside was functional yet tastefully selected; a large comfortable bed, a well-equipped writing desk, a huge hearth, comfortable well-worn chairs and rugs. It was a room that a soldier would come and relax in. The only occupant right now though did not look very relaxed. Faramir was sitting on one of the chairs; his posture slightly slumped, as he leafed through a bundle of papers.

He looked up as he heard Aragorn enter and made to rise. The king did not miss the slight hint of worry that flickered across the quiet grey eyes, before the younger man smiled at him in greeting. He sat on a chair opposite Faramir’s.

“The servants told me I would find you here,” he said quietly. He knew Faramir well enough now to realise that behind the quiet yet efficient exterior of Steward was a still rather young man, who was as yet learning to cope with his grief, even as he tried to learn his way around tasks he was unused to and expected little appreciation for. There were still times when his younger lover worried far too much over fulfilling his duties.

“I thought I would sort out Boromir’s things, so that these rooms can be set up again. It took longer than I thought it would. Is there anything needed?” Faramir asked, and Aragorn could see from the tiny frown on his forehead that the younger man was probably thinking back to his duties and tasks and trying to see if he had forgotten something. Aragorn wished he could reassure him more thoroughly. Faramir was extremely efficient and rarely left work undone, and even so, it was no matter of worry.

He shook his head now, “There was a small matter I wished to discuss with you, but it is not of much importance. You may finish your work here, and we will speak of it in the evening.”

“Truly,” he said as he noticed the almost fretful expression on the Steward’s face, “It is naught to do with work, merely a matter between us. You must not worry,” he said teasingly.

“I had almost finished here,” Faramir said, “I was merely reading through some old correspondence. It is nothing I cannot leave for later.”

“Oh no,” Aragorn began.

“I would leave it for later, Aragorn,” Faramir said his lips curving into a smile, though the grey eyes reflected a deep sadness that Aragorn found himself wishing he could drive away. And he certainly hoped to do so or at least to lessen some of the loneliness he often noticed in Faramir.

“Very well,” he said agreeably.

“I have sorted through nearly everything,” Faramir nodded towards some items stacked by the desk, “I merely need to carry what I desire to keep to my chambers.”

Faramir’s rooms were situated in a distant wing of the Citadel that Aragorn still had difficulty locating.

“Allow me to help you carry these to your chambers,” the king offered, taking in the clothes, books, armour pieces, and even a large earthen tub containing a witling lily plant.

“All I need are some books,” Faramir said.

“What of the rest?” Aragorn asked, surprised, for there were quite a lot of items left.

“The rest I thought we could give away. There are many in the city who can use warm clothing or armour,” Faramir said indicating Boromir’s old garments and various pieces of armour.

“Do you not wish to keep any of it?” Aragorn could not help but ask. He had inferred that the brothers were very close.

“Nay,” Faramir said softly. However, he clutched the bundle of papers he had been reading close to his chest, and moved close to a small pile of odds and ends on the desk. Aragorn noticed books, a hunting knife, gloves and the lily plant.

“That is quite generous of you,” Aragorn said quietly.

“It would go unused here,” Faramir pointed out, as he began gathering all the items together into piles, “Especially if these are to be the new guest rooms.”

Aragorn turned his attention to the books. He leafed through a few, smiling wistfully as he read the notations inside; some were gifts from Faramir, some from Denethor. Faramir brought some more books over to the desk. Aragorn helped him sort through them swiftly, smiling again as he noted how rapt Faramir could be around books.

He found himself looking forward to the talk they would have soon. There was something most appealing in Faramir’s expression as he handled each book carefully.

They moved to Aragorn’s study once they were done, and the king watched as Faramir sat expectantly.

He picked up a box, and placed it on the table. Opening it, he pulled out some books and placed them on the table in front of Faramir, “These came from Rivendell,” he said smiling.

“From Rivendell,” Faramir echoed, his voice containing a hint of the awe that always struck his face whenever anything related to the elven lands was spoken of.

“Yes, these are some books from Elrond’s personal archives, and I thought you might like to see them,” Aragorn said smiling, as Faramir promptly began to look through them.

“Oh!” Faramir said, his weary face seeming to lighten immediately, “Is this on the history of the southern lands? I have read about this in the archives! And oh –” he latched on to another slim volume, “I know of this too… it is a compilation of the harvest songs of Rohan, one of the few written texts about their culture!”

Aragorn watched with amusement as the younger man exclaimed over the books that had been sent from Imladris.

“We do not have any of these here,” Faramir exclaimed.

“I know,” Aragorn said softly, “That is why I thought perhaps you would like to have these,” he said smiling gently.

Faramir stared at him.

“These are for you,” Aragorn said.

“For me?” Faramir said, his voice betraying his surprise and puzzlement.

There was a hint of wonderment in the younger man’s voice and expression that almost made Aragorn ache.

“Yes. Elrond shall be leaving for the havens in some months and I know he will be glad if these are given to one who would appreciate them. I could think of none better than you.”

“Oh!” Faramir said, his face still so full of excitement and happiness.

He came round the table and hugged Aragorn suddenly, “Thank you… you always care for me so much…I could never thank you enough!”

“It is Ada you should thank; he asked if he could send them here. But I’m sure we could find a way for you to express your happiness towards me,” Aragorn said laughing, not without a slight hint of smugness. He leaned down and cupping Faramir’s chin in his hands, gently brushed a kiss on his forehead.

“I could never thank you enough for all you do for me, always,” Faramir insisted, his voice slightly choked as he hugged Aragorn closer.

Aragorn shook his head but pulled Faramir into his arms anyway.

Later as they sat with the books to look through them more carefully, Faramir suddenly went quiet, as he fingered the spine of a large book thoughtfully.

“What is it?” Aragorn asked.

“I – I think,” Faramir spoke a little hesitantly, “Some of these books, we do not have them in the archives, or any like them…”

“And you think they may be of more use there?” Aragorn said gently.

Faramir stared at him a little worriedly, “I do truly appreciate your thinking of me when these books arrived, and I would understand if my request angers you but… there are many scholars here who would not have access to Rohirric written volumes or even to ancient Haradric texts, at least not until we have some measure of political stability in our relations with them, I suppose, and this way they would be available to any who would want to read them and learn from them.”

“I am not angered, love,” Aragorn said, smiling, “I would rather be gladdened that you care as much for others. And you can after all still keep the ones that the archives already have.”

Faramir smiled gratefully, “I knew you would understand.” And then he frowned again, “but what of Lord Elrond? I know these are books that were dear to him, and he is after all your foster father, so…”

“I think Lord Elrond would be the gladdest to hear that my Steward and dearest friend is perhaps the most generous man in all of Arda,” Aragorn said softly.

“I’m not, I-”

“Ssh…” Aragorn said, pulling Faramir into his arms gently, “It is all right. But you give so much to all of us, Faramir, and seek so little for yourself.”

“I-”

Aragorn ran a finger down Faramir’s cheek gently, “I can however think of one thing you can have all for yourself…”

Faramir smiled, as Aragorn’s lips brushed over his, and the king’s hands moved down to his robes, as he nudged Faramir onto the pile of furs in front of the hearth.

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