Faramir Fiction Archive

The Ritual (NC-17)

Written by Valkyrie

22 April 2004 | 36281 words

Title: First Steps (Part 3/9)
Series: THE RITUAL
Author: Valkyrie (email)
Pairings: Aragorn/Faramir, Aragorn/Arwen (implied)
Rating: NC17
Archive: yes, but let me know where
Warnings: m/m relationship
Summary: Aragorn learns all there is to know about the Ritual and he does not like it. He takes the first steps to know Faramir better.
Authors’ note: this is AU. Some things are loyal to Tolkien’s story; I have changed some events and invented all the rest. If you like to read things canon, this is not a story for you.
Feedback: kind words will be welcome and constructive criticism as well.
Disclaimer: The characters are property of J.R.R. Tolkien. I have not and will not receive any money for this story. It is free for all to read.

Beta Reader original version: Minx
Beta Reader revised version: Chris
What would I have done without you guys? All remaining mistakes are mine.

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PART THREE – First Steps

The next day, right after breakfast, Aragorn had a private meeting with Galen in his office. Galen brought the book about the Ritual and they discussed every detail.

“Well, Sire, as I told you before, we do not know when exactly in time the Ritual came to be. Its origin in history is lost to us. All that we have is what is passed from generation to generation,” said Galen.

“Besides the King and Steward, the Chief Councillor is the only person who knows the details of the ritual. The Council do not know about the nature of the test itself but does know that the King has the power to end the tradition, that if the Steward is proven unfit the magic of the Ritual sentences him to death and that every party involved would read from this book what is meant for each party to read,” finished the counsellor.

“Explain this,” asked Aragorn.

“Anyone who opens the book, other than the four parties I just mentioned, would see only blank pages. When I open the book, I can read only what is meant for the chief councillor to read, that is, a general description and information about the procedures concerning the first part of the Ritual. When the Steward opens the book he can read what is meant for him to read. When the King opens the book, he can read it all. The book is a magical one and explains everything, but only to the King. It also cannot be destroyed for it is protected by a spell.”

Aragorn nodded at this and took a pensive stance. After some minutes he finally said, “Then, Galen, you say that what I must do now is read the Book?”

“Yes, my King, I said all that I know about this. Only the book would inform you further about the matter.”

“And Faramir? Would he read his part too?”

“Faramir read it two days ago, Sire.”

“Fine then,” said Aragorn with a sigh. “That would be all, Galen, thank you.”

“I will be in my office if you need me,” said Galen, exiting the office.

Aragorn opened the Book and without further ado started to read. It took him half an hour to read everything. Although the book was a heavy and big one, the pages were thick and full of elaborate drawings and large letters. All was clear and easy to understand, the only new thing he learned was about the nature of the binding. What would really happen the night of the Ritual and where this event would take place. He realized he certainly did not know all about his chambers.

Now that he knew everything about the Ritual, he was dismayed at what he would have to do. He did not imagine it to be like this. Not at all. Faramir was a kind soul and he did not want him to suffer without reason. He had promised Faramir he would treat him as a friend, that he would never be treated in a demeaning way and now the Ritual would make him break his promise. Sudden rage took over and he threw the book to the opposite side of the room.

Then Aragorn saw something he would not have imagined, surprise rooting him to his chair. The book landed on the floor, face up but then the pages started to turn themselves until the book was closed. Suddenly, the book gyrated into the air and came to float just in front of the one who threw it away in the first place. The thing seemed to mock Aragorn, daring him to do it again. Aragorn just took it carefully and put it on the table.

He decided to go and talk to Faramir.

Faramir decided to take breakfast in his rooms. He felt quite all right but not in the mood to face the entire castle yet. It had rained the night before and he had left his bed to watch the drops softly falling on the earth. He liked rain; the sound of its cadence soothed him. But last night the rain did not have its usual effect on him for his mind was in turmoil, but in a good way. Last night his life detoured to a good direction, he now had his King’s trust, though it seemed he had always had it.

His King was kind. He was unique. A King of Men raised among Elves. A man who seemed uncomfortable with titles and power but whose leadership was undeniable. He would follow Aragorn into any battle without question, not because he was a King but because he was a man who represented all that was good in the Race of Men.

Yes, he had stayed awake all night and his King’s kindness was not the only thing he pondered about. He thought about the duty he would fulfil in a week and this kept filling his thoughts even now.

No, he was definitely not in the mood to face the household yet, much less his King but for different reasons now.

He really hoped the King knew all about the Ritual. Or maybe he did not know all yet? It would be very embarrassing to talk about all the details in his presence.

A walk in the gardens might do him some good. The gardens would surely be beautiful after last night’s rain and maybe he could forget about the whole thing and relax a little. When he opened the door, the King was standing there, a hand raised in midair, ready to knock on the door.

“My K…,” Faramir started to say, “Aragorn,” he finished instead with a bow of his head and making room for the King to come into the room.

“My friend, if you call me Aragorn and bow your head each time it would ruin all I want to accomplish,” said Aragorn with a light laugh. “Were you going out? Would you accompany me on a stroll in the gardens?”

“Of course… Aragorn,” answered Faramir, embarrassed to almost slip again. It was difficult for him to get accustomed to call the King by name. Nevertheless, the familiarity of it was nice; that the King considered him a friend and treated him as such.

They walked through the corridors in silence. Faramir did not know what to say or ask to engage the King in conversation. He wanted to know all about such an unusual man, how it had been for him to grow up among Elves, had he known all along about his heritage? What perils had he faced on the Quest of the One Ring? In the end he just asked the one thing he wanted to know about the most, despite the pain it would cause.

“How was Boromir’s death? Did he suffer much?” Faramir gave the King a quick glance to gauge the effect his questions had on the other man.

“Let us find our destination first, Faramir, for to talk about this matter would be just as sad for you as it is for me,” answered Aragorn, not missing the sorrowful expression already appearing on the young man’s face. “We are almost there. Tell me instead, how do you feel this morning? Are you in any pain?”

“No, Sire… Aragorn,” answered Faramir, mortified at his slip. “Forgive me, I can’t seem to get accustomed to call you by name. I am trying though, it is not that I do not consider you could be my friend; it is that…”

Aragorn could not stop a chuckle to escape his mouth. “Oh, Faramir, what will I do with you?” he reached out and placed his left arm over Faramir’s shoulders. “You think of me as your King and nothing else. I do not blame you for we not know each other very well. You can ask me anything you want and I will answer if it is in my power to do so. If you feel uncomfortable with a question from me, just tell me and we will change the subject. Understood?” Aragorn hugged Faramir a little closer to emphasize his point.

“Understood,” answered the young man, a small smile on his lips.

Aragorn let go of Faramir noticing the young man was somewhat uncomfortable having his King’s arm over his shoulders.

Faramir was grateful. He was just not familiar with this kind of attention from anyone other than his brother and a few friends. Very few, indeed, for as the Steward’s son, everyone in the realm watched him with respect, protocol coming in the way so many times.

The gesture, though, let Faramir remember how rare, if not non-existent, this kind of attention had been where his father was concerned. He yearned for a love and approval that never came. Not even in death.

Aragorn watched Faramir silently, noticing the pensive expression on his face. They walked in companionable silence until they reached the gardens, Faramir just following Aragorn without paying much attention.

“We are here, my friend, let’s just sit on the bench close to the east wall. Nobody would be likely to disturb us,” said Aragorn, smiling at the startled expression on the young man’s face. ‘Oh Faramir, you look most endearing when you are surprised… Now where had that thought come from?’ Aragorn realized he was already falling for the young man.

“Oh… I was thinking… I had not noticed we had arrived. You must forgive me for these days I do not know where my head is,” said Faramir apologetically, following Aragorn to the bench.

They sat in silence for a while, side by side, legs almost touching, Faramir looking at everything but the King and the King oblivious to everything but Faramir. In the end, Faramir risked a peek and met the insistent stare of Aragorn. Though red to the points of his ears, the young man could not break away from the intense gaze of the King. He thought that there were no eyes as grey and kind and warm as the eyes of this man.

“What is on your mind, my friend?” asked Aragorn.

Faramir woke from his reverie.

“What… well,” he averted his gaze.

“What is the matter? You know you can trust me.” Aragorn flinched inside at his own words, thinking that soon he would betray that trust.

“It is nothing… Aragorn, it is just that, well, it is unusual for me, this familiarity with someone of higher rank. Even with father, I had to keep protocol. And… Now, having you ask me to treat you as a friend, it is… unusual,” Faramir shrugged and cast a sidelong glance at Aragorn.

“Well, none of that,” said Aragorn. “Why do we not talk of something else, not of ranks, or protocols? You asked me something in the corridor and while I would have preferred to begin to talk of happier things I understand your need to know.”

Faramir nodded.

“Boromir died bravely, Faramir, he was a great warrior and in the end died protecting The Fellowship. He will be honoured as the hero he is,” said Aragorn.

Faramir knew his brother dying honourably was a comfort but he wanted his brother alive. His brother was all he had that was good in this world and now he was gone never to return.

“He loved you very much. He talked a lot about you and held you in high regard as a warrior. As I told you before he called you his kind warrior. He said your heart was too good and your spirit far too kind to have them wasted on a battlefield,” continued Aragorn.

Faramir just nodded and smiled a little between the silent tears that ran down his face. “He wanted me to be a scholar,” said the young man in a quiet voice. “He thought I would be most useful in the Council not on a battlefield, but my father thought differently. My father never wanted me close so he sent me to training as soon as I was old enough. I just did as I was told. Father was not one anybody dared to oppose; and besides, I wanted to prove myself worthy… though nothing I did ever satisfied him,” said Faramir, bowing his head.

“Faramir, do you really think you lack skills on a battlefield? Answer truthfully, my friend,” asked Aragorn.

Faramir just shook his head as though he was incapable of answering. Finally, he forced himself to answer when he realized Aragorn was waiting. “I pushed myself to the best of my abilities, I knew I got the task done and I know I have the respect of the men under my command… You just get tired when you receive only disapproval from the person you crave approval the most, and in the end… I just could not help but think that maybe I was doing something wrong.” He looked at Aragorn, a pained expression on his face.

“Oh, Faramir, I do not know how it would feel to try to live up to someone’s expectations and know that nothing you do would be enough. I had, aside from my parents’ death, a happy childhood and my foster father always showed me unconditional love and support, so maybe, I am not suited to give you advice in this matter. Nevertheless, I had many doubts myself and I know now, that foremost, you have to believe in yourself, you have to believe in what lies in your heart. You are a great warrior for your men hold you in high regard. You are a good brother for Boromir loved you very much. You are a good son for you tried, despite how he treated you, to please your father in his every whim. Let me know you, Faramir, as a friend. Let me give you the comfort a brother would give, do not close yourself off.” Aragorn put his arm around Faramir’s shoulder.

Faramir shook his head in a gesture of impotence, tears falling in earnest now. He hugged himself in a self-protective gesture.

Aragorn hugged Faramir in a tight embrace and held him while the young man sobbed brokenly in his arms, for a second time. By now he knew Faramir well enough to be sure the young Steward would be embarrassed with this behaviour, not because he would think it was not proper but because he, Aragorn, was the King.

He let Faramir cry. This breakdown did Faramir some good. It was clear he had suppressed much. At last Faramir could start to get rid of his demons. Aragorn tried to comfort him as best he could, soothing his back, as the sobs seemed to intensify. He said nothing though, for nothing he would say could alleviate Faramir’s pain right now.

After a while Faramir calmed somewhat and withdrew from Aragorn’s arms. He brushed his hand over his eyes, a little angry at himself. “Forgive me… I do not know what came over me… you would think I am a weakling for I have done nothing but cry in your arms since we met,” said Faramir his voice hoarse and evidently very ashamed of himself.

“If Boromir were the one with you right now would you be this upset about having cried so?” asked Aragorn, his voice a little brusque.

Faramir tried to avoid Aragorn’s gaze but the latter insisted, unrelenting.

“Would you?”

“No,” came the sudden reply, “my brother was the only one I trusted with my feelings. Besides being my brother, he was also my only true friend.”

“Then you would die for me but I am not good enough to give you comfort?” pressed Aragorn.

Faramir did something very unexpected. He laughed. He laughed out loud. A laugh from the heart, spontaneous and beautiful, Aragorn thought.

“You never give up! You have a gift of twisting everything in your favour, even my own words. The Council will be in trouble with you,” said Faramir still laughing. He thought he must be going crazy for laughing this way after crying so much, over his King’s shoulder no less! He laughed harder still.

And Aragorn joined in the laughter and he felt like thanking the Valar for this beautiful sight of Faramir, a little happy at last, no matter if it was just for a little thing.

Faramir clamed down and grew serious again. The moment lost, it seemed.

“Ah no, my friend, do not dare to be all serious again, I will take the day off. Are you up for a ride? Why don’t you serve me as a guide and show me the wonderful place that Frodo told me about, the falls of Henneth Annûn? You will tell me about your childhood pranks and I will tell you about mine, and I assure you, after this, you will not think twice anymore before calling me Aragorn,” stated a not so regal King, yanking his Steward from the bench and dragging him all the way to the stables.

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