Faramir Fiction Archive

The Prince of Ithilien (NC-17)

Written by Raihon

08 June 2007 | 33215 words

Bonding

Faramir stayed in his father’s study late into the night, dwelling long and hard on the past, until he was spent and he felt the calm of acceptance seep into his heart. He barely made it back to his own bed before collapsing and sleeping deeply, rising only after he heard the third bell.

Doronil told him that several people had asked to see him, but Faramir put them off until later that morning, needing to walk in the garden for a bit to clear his mind. The day was cold, with a brisk wind whipping down from the mountain, and Faramir found it refreshing. When Faramir went back inside, he sought out Valacar and asked him where Aragorn was.

Valacar hesitated for the briefest moment before saying, “the King is very busy today. May I give him your message, my Lord?”

Faramir drew in a breath carefully, his body tense with the realization that Aragorn must have told Valacar he did not wish to see him. “Please tell him…” Faramir struggled to conceal any emotion from the secretary, and pretended that he was musing over his words. “Well, it is nothing urgent, but when you see him, please tell him that I am feeling better today, and I thank him for his concern.”

“I hope you are quite well, my Lord,” Valacar said politely.

“I am. Better than I have been in a while, actually,” Faramir replied honestly.

Valacar gave him a slight smile. “I am glad to hear it. I will give King Elessar your message and I will seek you out should he require you later today.”

Faramir nodded and departed, looking for Doronil. As he walked down the hallway, he told himself not to worry about Aragorn. Perhaps he really is that busy, he thought. Surely he will seek me out later? But he could not convince himself. Again, he felt the stabbing fear that things were about to change, and he could not push back the desperate fear that if such a break should come, he might never feel whole again. But what can I do about it if Aragorn will not see me? he thought. I myself have too much to do today. I cannot let this distract me from my duty.

That night, Aragorn came uninvited and unannounced into Faramir’s chamber from a door to a back hallway that linked this room to a room in the King’s private chambers. Faramir was half undressed, washing himself at a basin. He looked up at Aragorn then resumed what he was doing.

Aragorn quietly shut the door and walked over to Faramir, who was hunched over the basin. He ran his hands down Faramir’s bare back, making the other man shiver. Faramir dried his face and arms with a cloth and turned to face Aragorn. They stood less than an arm’s length apart, staring at each other for nearly a minute.

“Thank you,” Faramir said at last, “for last night. I know it was not easy for you.”

Aragorn looked sorrowful. “It seems lately that I cause you nothing but distress.”

Faramir’s impulse was to touch him, but he could not. It was as if there were a barrier between them he could not push through. He felt a hopeless resignation wash over him, and when Aragorn saw this change in Faramir’s mood, his eyes filled with fear, as they had before, when Faramir had refused to give in to his plea to acknowledge their love.

“Please, Faramir, tell me why you are angry with me. I cannot bear it when I hurt you and you turn away from me.” Aragorn said pleadingly.

“Then why did you tell Valacar to send me away today?” Faramir asked, trying to keep his tone calm.

“I feared we would fight again, and you would walk out again, and I would wonder…” Aragorn swallowed, “again, if I were losing you.”

Faramir sighed. “I am not angry with you, Aragorn, but you have caused me distress. I am exhausted from trying to play three parts at once.” He moved past Aragorn to a table and pulled the bracelet from the pouch, putting the tip of a finger through each ring, letting the wrist piece dangle.

“You see, here is Faramir, bound by a pretty silver chain to three masters.” He moved his hand so that the silver bracelet swung jerkily at the end of its tethers. He smiled grimly. “Ah, but if we turn this puzzle around,” he said, holding the wrist piece in his other hand and letting the rings dangle, “we see that all three, Steward, Prince and lover, are all in turn bound to a single master, but that master is not named Faramir.”

Aragorn shook his head in disbelief. “Why are you saying this?”

Faramir put down the bracelet and walked over to Aragorn, his mood turning from wry to volatile as he confronted the other man. As he had last night, he felt a reckless desire to face it all and let it ruin him, if that was his fate. “Is it not true?”

Aragorn looked pale. “I do not wish to be your master.”

“Then why do you seek to command me as Prince?” Faramir asked, roughly tangling one hand in Aragorn’s hair and wrapping the other arm tightly around his waist. “Your Steward will obey you in all things, but the Prince must have a will of his own.”

“And the lover?” Aragorn asked softly.

Faramir closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “He would loose himself in you, and destroy the others in the process.” Faramir moved Aragorn backward onto the bed and moved on top of him, covering Aragorn’s body with his. “Admit it to me, to yourself. Do you not want me this way? Desperate for you? Dependent on you?” Faramir pulled Aragorn’s arms up along the bed, pinning them above his head. Aragorn flushed and grew hard under Faramir’s thigh.

“I do not,” Aragorn gasped.

“All because you do not trust me.”

“Of course I trust you!” Aragorn protested.

“Why do you keep lying to me?” Faramir said softly. “To you, my absence means my betrayal, my independence means my disobedience. You doubt me too readily, so please stop saying that you trust me!”

Aragorn’s trembling mouth had no response, so Faramir kissed it, wildly, as if starved for him. Aragorn moaned, kissing back just as hard, bruising their lips.

“Faramir,” Aragorn gasped when he was given a moment to draw a breath. “I am sorry. You have never given me cause to doubt your wisdom, your selflessness, or your love.”

Faramir held still and closed his eyes, a kind of relief flowing through him, but Aragorn’s words only made it more painful to make his own confession. He released Aragorn’s wrists, ashamed of the way he had forced this admission from his lover, though there was no doubt that Aragorn had taken pleasure from something in it. Aragorn’s hands were now on his back, gripping him greedily.

“I ask you to trust me, yet I do not even trust myself,” Faramir said, finding it hard to meet Aragorn’s gaze. “I should have stayed with you the first night I was back. I desperately wanted to, but I had to know if I was still capable of putting aside my desire for you when I had duties to fulfill.”

“Is this what has changed in you?” Aragorn asked. “You have seemed different to me. Distant, and yet…more ardent. What has happened?”

“Aragorn, this love is running roughshod over my reason. It is shameful for me.” Faramir looked into Aragorn’s eyes and finally allowed himself to admit everything. “Elen nín, I look upon you, and nothing else matters to me but finding a way into your arms. The slightest touch of your hand sends me into a spiral of longing. When we are apart, I crave the taste of your breath. I sit in my study and dwell for long minutes on the memory of our last night together, caring little for the distraction of my duties. You have become like the sun to me and I fear I will burn, yet I cannot withdraw from your heat. All these things and more…” Faramir’s voice broke and he gave himself to the comfort of Aragorn’s embrace, laying his head on the other’s chest.

Aragorn caressed Faramir’s back and kissed the top of his head. Neither man spoke for a while, but at last Aragorn said, “I see,” and Faramir could hear the trace of a smile in his voice. “I am sorry you are suffering now, but I think you will soon master the worst of this affliction. I am just surprised, and my pride is a little wounded, that it took you this long to fall in love with me.”

“I cannot believe you are mocking me,” Faramir muttered miserably.

“I am not mocking you,” Aragorn said, stroking Faramir’s hair. “I know of what you speak. I am a man who loves easily, though rarely has love turned my head from duty or good sense. But Faramir, this is how it has been for me since the first night we spoke of love. Now for three years I have known your devotion and your passion, and though it was more than I dared hope for, still I wondered why you did not love me the way I loved you. Only, it seems…you do!” The joy was plain in Aragorn’s voice.

Faramir raised his head to look at Aragorn and reached up with one hand to caress his cheek. He searched Aragorn’s face, questioning him with his eyes.

Aragorn smiled tenderly, and his eyes glistened. “Oh, love, how was I to know how ready my heart would be to give itself to you? I love you with desperation because your music completes the harmony of my life. As soon as you touched your lips to mine and gave me hope, I heard the song it all its glory and I was forever changed. Even if Éowyn had not…” Aragorn took a deep, shaky breath. “You see? I cannot bear to think of it even now, for had you told me never to touch you or speak of my feelings again, I fear that my love for you would remain undimmed even to this day.”

Faramir was touched and did not speak for a moment, letting the meaning of Aragorn’s words sink in. Then he asked, “why did you not tell me this before?”

Aragorn raised his eyebrows. “I knew your heart was not as ardent as mine. I did not want to frighten you.”

Faramir smiled grimly. “Aye, you might have done so. It is a fearsome affliction.”

“You suffer because you resist it,” Aragorn suggested softly.

Faramir’s entire body responded to the thought of giving in, of accepting this consuming need for Aragorn. “It will destroy me,” he muttered.

“It will not. Struggling will destroy you.” Aragorn reached up to tuck Faramir’s hair back behind his ear, and then smiled. “Faramir, it is not like you to be so dramatic. You must be very much in love with me!”

Faramir smiled back, a little embarrassed. “Of course I am,” he whispered. Then he kissed Aragorn tenderly, and they became absorbed in the language without words. At last, Faramir let himself relax and enjoy the touch of Aragorn’s mouth, the feeling of the other’s body underneath his, the growing arousal each could feel in the other. Faramir responded to a movement of Aragorn’s hips with a slow grind of his own, and the two men’s lips pressed together in a smile. Faramir raised his head and as he looked into Aragorn’s eyes, he grew serious, his heated emotions flooding through him.

“Faramir,” Aragorn whispered huskily, “make me yours.”

Faramir stripped Aragorn of his clothes and finished shedding his own. Gently now, he made love to Aragorn, moving slowly inside him and looking deep into his eyes. He felt his fears dissolve; this was not the end, and for this moment, there need be no struggle. Now is the right time, he thought. I may give in and lose myself to him completely. And so he did, watching Aragorn’s face, seeing everything the other was feeling, and making it all his own. His hips pressed forward and Aragorn almost closed his eyes. Faramir held still, his heart pounding, his chest aching with love, waiting to connect again to his lover’s gaze.

Unspoken words passed between them as Faramir pulled slowly back, his arms trembling slightly. Aragorn’s eyes flashed heat and devotion and the realization of cherished dreams, all in one look. Faramir felt humbled and bent forward to kiss Aragorn’s mouth. It was a delicate kiss, neither man wanting to speed the pace of their lovemaking. Faramir moved in, driving deeply but gradually, almost loosing control, his breath coming out in a gasp.

Faramir raised up again and took another long, slow thrust, putting into it all the love he felt for the other man. As he moved, he tried to read each expression on Aragorn’s face, each change in his eyes. To his surprise, he felt himself coming completely into focus as he looked at Aragorn. Though they merged into one movement, one sigh, one thought, he sensed himself there more clearly than ever. Then he stopped moving, their bodies deeply joined, and for several breaths, he dissolved completely. There was no sensation, no thought, nothing but them, together. Just as it had been five years before, when Aragorn had called Faramir back from the dark: their minds touched and they knew each other in ways beyond the understanding of the senses. Slowly, Faramir lost this sense of merging and was aware of himself again as he blinked away his tears of joy. With one hand, he caressed Aragorn’s face, brushing hair from his damp brow, and lingering to feel the other man’s cheek pressed against his palm.

“I know, elen nín,” Aragorn said, his eyes full of wonder, “I felt it, too.”

A rush of elation swept over Faramir, followed by a wave of desire. He shifted their position so that he could touch Aragorn more intimately, matching his pace to Aragorn’s growing passion. A surge in Aragorn’s pleasure echoed through Faramir and he felt them both approach the edge, Aragorn’s cries amplifying his own, the sweat of both their bodies covering them, the sensations each was feeling ringing throughout the other’s body.

When they were done, Aragorn wrapped his arms around Faramir and pulled him down so that their bodies were pressed close together. “We are one,” Aragorn whispered, and the thought filled Faramir with nothing but joy.

Faramir held very still. He felt Aragorn’s heart beating against his chest. They breathed as one. He felt the surge of strength in his veins and knew that the same force ran through Aragorn, too. An entirely different longing came to Faramir, one he had struggled with in recent months but which he had never fully acknowledged. He wanted Aragorn to be sure of him, never again fearing to lose him; was this what Aragorn needed? Faramir tried to stop himself from making this choice, but now it suddenly seemed inevitable.

He kissed Aragorn’s temple and felt the words welling up from deep inside him, overwhelming his doubt. “Aragorn,” he whispered. “I pledge…I pledge to you…”

“No, my love!” Aragorn’s hand clasped Faramir’s cheek and his thumb pressed gently against Faramir’s lips. “Whatever we feel, we must not say those words. That pledge is not for us,” he said emphatically.

Faramir closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, releasing it in a long sigh. He felt suspended between two moments in time, having taken a first step down a path that was now vanishing before him. He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

Aragorn lay on his side, an arm across Faramir’s chest, gripping his shoulder. “We must give our wives something that is sacred and for them alone. Whatever happens between us, they will have our marriage vow. They will always know who they are to us, do you see?”

“I do see,” Faramir said, a tranquil smile creeping onto his face, “but I thought you needed to hear those words to be sure of my heart.”

Aragorn smiled, too. “It seems that I no longer need words to know your heart, love. I see you clearly when I look into your eyes.”

Faramir pulled Aragorn into his embrace, and Aragorn rested his head on Faramir’s chest. Faramir could no longer detect within himself the pull of resistance, doubt, or fear. Giving up the struggle had freed him somehow, and he hoped it would last.

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