Faramir Fiction Archive

Tales Only Whispered (NC-17)

04 April 2004 | 6339 words | Work in Progress

Part IX: The Scent of Roses

I had not left the Houses of Healing long ago. Most of my time I spent in the gardens, where I was sitting on a marble bench next to my mother’s rose bushes. I inhaled their scent…it made me think about my father. Father had loved the scent of roses as much as he had loved my mother. He used to say that roses reminded him of her.

Mother had always used rosewater as her only perfume. The scent of roses had always been around her… Soft blonde hair and the scent of roses were the only things I remembered about my mother. This scent was on all my mother’s things, even after she died it remained. Therefore, as a child, I loved the scent of roses. It comforted me and I felt loved.

Until one fateful night many years ago…Father gave me mother’s coat…and there it was…yes, I clearly remember it… a faint scent of roses clung to the coat…I remember how this scent filled my head that night. That night…yes, that very night I learnt to abhor the scent of roses. I clearly recall the pain I felt that night… the horror… and I remember how I fled my father’s bedroom…running to my mother’s rose garden…I fell asleep there, the scent of roses on my nose and on my mind. And when I woke the other morning I was still surrounded by roses…

Father made me perfume myself with rosewater whenever he summoned me to his bedroom. He wanted me to smell exactly like my mother when he loved me. Soon I grew to hate the scent of roses… I simply felt sick at the sight of a rose or whenever this particular scent came to my nose.

But then… then so many horrible things happened. I got injured in that terrible battle and father…yes, father died. This was when I met him for the first time…Him…my king…my Aragon…my love…I loved him almost form first sight on.

One day, however, he brought this oil with him to the Houses of Healing. “I want to give you al little massage, my love”, he said and uncorked the bottle. My eyes widened with fear…There it was… The scent of roses!

“My king…”, but I wasn’t able to say more. He didn’t understand what was troubling me, he couldn’t understand. How should he? “Don’t be shy”, he said. “Just relax.” I tried to obey. I was shaking with fear… cold sweat all over my body…I had to fight hard not to throw up.

He poured a little oil on my back and slowly started massaging me with gentle hands…gentle hands with gentle touches… no hard and cruel touches like my father’s …never again! I fought with my tears.

And then… then I suddenly was able to relax… his hands moved over my body…his soothing voice whispered loving words into my ears. The scent of roses clung to these hands, these hands that caressed me softly…

And for the first time in many years I truly felt comforted, I truly felt loved…and this was when I learnt to love the scent of roses again.

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