Faramir Fiction Archive

The Prince of Ithilien (NC-17)

Written by Raihon

08 June 2007 | 33215 words

Negotiations

Faramir slept for a few hours before his breakfast meeting. Master Tawahir and two younger men joined him at a small table located in an alcove off the main dining room. Tawahir, who was hunched but still had a firm grip when he clasped Faramir’s hand, introduced the men as his assistants, no longer apprentices, but still junior members of the Woodcraft Guild. After Faramir had inquired about their work and where they were from, he introduced the topic he had asked them there to discuss.

“Settlers have returned to North Ithilien,” Faramir explained, “but prosperity is still a long way off for them. Since timber is the most abundant form of wealth in the area, it is only natural to bring woodcraft back to Ithilien. As you well know, there is not a single member of your guild in all of North Ithilien.”

Tawahir nodded. “Well, first it was the Orcs and now, well, begging your pardon, Lord Faramir, but where’s the wood to craft? It’s no more available in Ithilien than anywhere else. We’ve had to ration wood for over a year now and it is not entirely clear to me why that is, considering, as you yourself say, there is abundant timber in Ithilien.”

“Elves,” one of the assistants muttered and was shushed by Tawahir.

Faramir put a mask of patience on his face; the guild knew quite well the reasons behind the policy, and it was not to do with the Elves.

“I have a plan to work with the Elves, but that is not your concern,” Faramir said a little more sternly. “However, my next question does concern you: if I were to get harvesting limits increased for local woodcraft production, would the guild be willing to send master craftsmen to Ithilien to establish workshops?”

Tawahir’s eyes glinted. “Do you mean that you would free up the wood supply to the entire Kingdom, or only for use by craftsmen in Ithilien?”

Faramir briefly wondered if he should be thinking more broadly than Ithilien on this matter, but he spoke firmly, “only for craftsmen in Ithilien. This is a plan to benefit Ithilien, not the guild.”

The two younger men looked at each other and then down at their plates.

Tawahir stared long and hard at Faramir. “We spend half our time waiting for wood instead of working it. Demand for our work greatly exceeds supply right now, but, ah…the King keeps insisting on restricting what price we can charge. Even the master craftsmen can barely eke out a living. It would be difficult to ask them to start fresh in Ithilien.”

Faramir knew that Tawahir was preparing to give him a difficult time because of the King’s restrictions on what the guilds could charge for their wares. The man had probably been at the Council meeting soon after the war when Faramir had suggested that stability in Gondor would be achieved more quickly if none greatly benefited at the cost of others. The order had come from the King, but everyone knew whose idea it had been to impose price limits on the guilds.

“Naturally, your members must have incentives to make the move,” Faramir said, pouring some more tea in Tawahir’s mug. “But as you said, they will not have to spend half their time waiting for wood – they will be more productive than they would be elsewhere. And, if the Valar will it, soon we will be out of our crisis and prices will again be set by the guilds.”

“We would need to write a new guild charter for Ithilien,” Tawahir snapped.

Faramir gestured toward the King’s study. “I have the old charter here. I can have it copied…”

Tawahir shook his head. “No, a new charter that gives the Ithilien guild the right to treat directly with the Prince. There was no Prince when the old charter was written.”

Faramir considered this. It was not an unreasonable demand and though it would strengthen the Ithilien guild relative to the others, it would also strengthen his control over the economy by setting a precedent for other guilds to follow. “What else?” he asked, knowing this wasn’t going to be the only point of negotiation.

“Towns that want our craftsmen must provide a workshop and lodging at their own expense, but upon occupancy, the property will revert to the guild.”

Faramir said nothing, waiting for Tawahir to continue. He was sure the lords would agree to this provision.

“And for the first ten years, the Ithilien guild members are exempt from taxation,” Tawahir concluded.

Faramir smiled coolly. “There will be a new charter, which the guild should prepare at its earliest convenience. Let the charter reflect the following provisions.” Tawahir nodded to one of the younger men, who attended closely what Faramir was saying. “I will secure from the lords an agreement to provide workshops and lodging, if you will agree that the workshops should be overseen by a senior guild member, each of whom will take on a minimum of two apprentices from Ithilien.”

Tawahir whistled. “You think much of the talent of your Ithilien boys, my Lord. Are there two to be found in that wild land who are worthy of apprenticeship to a Master Woodcrafter?”

Faramir narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. “And I will exempt the Ithilien guild members from taxation for the first year after they establish a workshop.”

Again, the younger men glanced at each other uncomfortably. Tawahir held Faramir’s gaze, twirling his thumbs and muttering, “one year. Nothing can be accomplished in one year. Hmph.”

“On the contrary, Master Tawahir. Much can be done in a year. What say you?”

Tawahir harrumphed again and rose, so Faramir and the others did the same. “I will present your proposal to the guild. We will answer you before the Council meets.”

“Thank you, Master Tawahir, for your consideration,” Faramir said politely, escorting them through the dining hall. And thus, Faramir thought to himself, the Prince of Ithilien defends his charge.

After they had left, Faramir went back to the table to finish his breakfast. He had been attending Tawahir’s demeanor too closely to eat much while the guild members had been there.

Faramir then went to the Tower Hall to advise Aragorn of his plans, but he was not there and one of the Guard informed him that the King had gone down to the barracks, but would be back in the Citadel after lunch. Faramir then returned to the study and began making notes on what he would expect to see retained from the old guild charter.

Faramir took his lunch in the dining hall and caught up on the gossip of the court, but immediately returned to the study to survey the deeds. For now, he only needed to get a rough picture – how many families held which lands and for how long. He was familiar with most of the houses in question because their sons had served under him in the Rangers. If any family had not sent its sons to serve, it would be bold to make a claim to Ithilien’s lands now. When he finished filling in the map he had started the night before, he bade Doronil to summon the clerk from the archive to retrieve the deeds and the guild charter later that day. He then began perusing the law books to acquaint himself with the legal basis of land trusts.

Aragorn entered just as Doronil left. “Good afternoon, Lord Steward,” he said pleasantly.

“Good afternoon, King Elessar,” Faramir responded, a smile tugging at his lips. He rose from the desk to yield it to Aragorn, who was holding some parchment scrolls.

Aragorn put the scrolls on the desk and gave Faramir a quick kiss and a squeeze on the arm before sitting.

Faramir leaned his hip against the edge of the desk, and resisted an urge to smooth a lock of Aragorn’s hair that was out of place. “All is well?” he asked.

“Quite well,” Aragorn said. “We will have all of the discharges and promotions in order by the Council meeting. By the way, Cair Andros is requesting a new infirmary.”

Faramir nodded. “The roof leaks. We could get away with just giving them a new roof, but I think it might be wise to give Theron what he asks for.”

Aragorn looked up at him. “He has served with honor.” Faramir raised his eyebrows and nodded, and Aragorn picked up on his thought: “will he retire if we do not do as he requests?”

“He has threatened to, but more importantly, he has a desire to teach. I hear he wants a new facility that can accommodate training.”

Aragorn pursed his lips and nodded his approval, turning his attention back to the scrolls.

Faramir touched him on the shoulder. “I want to talk to you about Ithilien.”

Aragorn turned his attention to Faramir and a small smile on his face distracted Faramir from his thoughts for a moment. He returned the smile and said, “we have left some legal loose ends, or rather, I have failed to address certain issues in a timely manner, and I need your counsel,” Faramir struggled with his inclination to speak of ‘we’ and his intention to speak of ‘I.’ “I want to advise you of some discussions I have had regarding the timber…”

A knock at the door interrupted him and Doronil entered with a small velvet bag, which he handed to Faramir, along with some loose coins. “I paid what he asked. It was a fair price, I would say,” the boy said, smiling shyly.

“Thank you Doronil. After you deliver the documents to the clerk, you are free for the evening.”

When Doronil left, Aragorn asked, “what is in the bag, if it is not a secret?”

Faramir smiled. “Not a secret, but a surprise. A present for Éowyn. I think I will give it to her after the birth of our child.” He opened the bag and laid the hand piece out in front of Aragorn, who slipped his left arm around Faramir’s waist. With his right hand, he traced his finger along the delicate silver chains.

“Three rings bound to one master,” Aragorn mused, looking up at Faramir. “An interesting choice.”

Faramir tilted his head, looking from the bracelet to Aragorn. “I just thought it was an enticing piece of jewelry.” What did he see in this? Faramir wondered. For some reason, Aragorn’s comment irritated him.

Aragorn moved his chair so he was facing Faramir, a hand on each side of his waist. “It is enticing,” he said, giving Faramir a smoldering look.

Faramir’s hands traveled up Aragorn’s arms to his shoulders, along the curve of his neck and tangled into his hair. “You weave quite a spell on me these days,” he whispered. “I am utterly desperate for you.”

Aragorn stood quickly and pulled Faramir close. “Come to me tonight,” he said, his eyes intense. “I see a change in you and I would know what has happened.”

Faramir closed his eyes, confusion muddling his brain. He tried to withdraw from Aragorn’s embrace. “Aragorn, we should talk about the…about Ithilien,” he said, his heart pounding in his chest, his muscles straining to keep him from giving in to the desire that consumed him.

The sound of voices outside the door caused Aragorn to grumble, “what now?” He sat back down and Faramir went to stand on the other side of the desk.

Valacar, the King’s personal secretary, a slight man with short gray hair and somber eyes, entered the room and announced, “Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth has arrived to pay his respects to King Elessar.”

Faramir smiled and Aragorn said, “bid him enter.”

“Good day, King Elessar,” Imrahil said, smiling broadly. “And my dear nephew, what a pleasant surprise! I just arrived and I came to pay my respects.”

Aragorn rose and embraced Imrahil. “You are welcome, as always, Prince Imrahil. How was your journey?”

Faramir also embraced his uncle and they both remained standing.

“Smooth and uneventful,” Imrahil answered. “It is a fine spring we are having.”

“A little dry,” Faramir fretted. “May the new year bring rain.”

“Is there anything we need to discuss before the Council meeting?” Imrahil asked Aragorn, knowing that there were always things best discussed before such meetings.

“Perhaps we should find time to talk tomorrow. Will you return here after the third bell?” Aragorn asked and when Imrahil nodded, he turned to Faramir.

“Yes, I will be here,” Faramir confirmed.

“And I hope you have no plans for supper, nephew,” Imrahil said, clasping him on the shoulder. “Elphir asked me to find out if you were in the City yet and if so, to invite you to dine with us.”

Faramir bowed his head in deference, though he had been hoping to join Aragorn and Arwen again for dinner, and then to have Aragorn to himself. “It would be my pleasure,” he said, and reconsidered his impulse to seek out Aragorn at every chance. Imrahil would be a good person to talk to about his political dilemmas. He knew nothing about forestry, but he knew how to be a Prince.

“Excellent. Then, if you will excuse me, my Lords?” Imrahil bowed to Aragorn and left the room.

Faramir smiled wryly at Aragorn.

“What?” Aragorn asked.

“I am just waiting for the next interruption.” Faramir paused. “Or, if there is none, about Ithilien…”

Aragorn grimaced. “Truly, I am sorry, but perhaps you can bring it up tomorrow when we meet with Imrahil? I am about to be due elsewhere. There are, at last count, six petitioners waiting to be heard this afternoon and…Faramir?”

Faramir was already half-way out of the room when Aragorn caught his arm. “Faramir!”

Faramir turned to him, cheeks reddening. He did not speak because his emotions were warring within him. He was angry, but Aragorn’s touch shot through him, weakening him, and this weakness only made him angrier.

“What is it?” Aragorn whispered urgently.

Faramir shook his head. “Nothing that cannot wait until tomorrow,” he said, his eyes scanning Aragorn’s face, which looked concerned and a little hurt. When Aragorn did not protest or ask him again to come to him that night, Faramir turned away, pulling his arm from Aragorn’s hand. “Until tomorrow, then,” he said. Aragorn did not answer.

Faramir left the door open behind him and walked briskly to his chamber, changed into light breeches and a loose shirt and headed down to the Tower Guard training grounds. He grabbed a practice sword from the bench.

“Lieutenant,” he said to the middle-aged man supervising the training, “who here needs to be taught a lesson?”

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