Faramir Fiction Archive

The Healer (NC-17)

Written by Lilith

30 March 2004 | 11127 words

Chapter 7

Aragorn walked aimlessly for miles, preoccupied with thoughts of his steward.

Is it selfish to take him away from Ithilien, away from his men, just to have him by my side? Aragorn shook his head roughly. Or is it more selfish to keep him out here, like a caged bird kept only for my enjoyment, when his talents could best be used in Minas Tirith?

There was no question that Faramir was a very capable soldier. He had shown his courage in the war, almost losing his life in a valiant attempt to recapture Osgiliath. He had proven to be an even greater leader in the years since. His men obviously loved him. Each story they had told last night had involved Faramir somehow, as they either related how he had saved the day, or told how he had reacted to their own feats. Aragorn's estimation of his captain had grown even more as he listened.

Faramir could indeed be a very valuable to him in rebuilding Gondor. The young man had never had a taste for war. Like Aragorn, he preferred the peacetime pursuits of learning and lore. He had shown quite a talent for Elven-lore, a subject in which Aragorn was well-versed, and easily matched his king in his knowledge of the history of men. Aragorn smiled as he thought of the young man's passion as they had debated an obscure point about his own ancestor. Faramir's grey eyes had flashed as, with his almost photographic memory, he recited the Scroll of Isildur in such detail that Aragorn was forced to laughingly concede.

Yes, the man's mind is sharp, there's no doubt of that, Aragorn thought. But is bringing him to Minas Tirith the right thing for him? For although Aragorn loved to have Faramir in the city, he sensed his discontent there. It was understandable – it was not easy to live under the watchful eyes of the city, as he well knew. But there were ways around that. The steward had grown up there, and knew well how to avoid those eyes. He himself had shown Aragorn the secret passages through the citadel that he and Boromir had used as children. Using them had been a great boon for their meetings, as they no longer had to creep past the citadel's guards. No, that wasn't the only reason that Faramir seemed uncomfortable in the city.

Is it because of Arwen? The queen was very fond of the steward. Aragorn knew that one of the reasons Arwen was so accepting of their relationship was because she held Faramir in such high regard. She seemed to view him as a younger brother, one that must be protected and guarded from harm. For his part, Faramir was always extremely formal around the queen, which Aragorn now understood was the way he expressed his shyness. The steward had treated him the same way initially – it had been such a struggle to get him to call him by name.

The thought of Faramir saying his name earlier that morning came back to him – his husky voice, the pleading tone that cried out to be sated. Aragorn closed his eyes as he remembered his lover's face, and pressed his hand against his stomach where Faramir's kisses had landed. The thought of the probing tongue on his cock caused him to stiffen again, thinking of how good it had felt as he had fallen, tumbling into the abyss –

– until suddenly he was indeed falling, crashing down past shrubs and rocky outcroppings, tumbling down the side of the ravine. Time seemed to stand still, and yet race by, as he kept falling. He heard a scream and didn't realize until he violently landed at the bottom that it came from his own mouth. His last thought was how quiet everything suddenly was.

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