Faramir Fiction Archive

The Ritual (NC-17)

Written by Valkyrie

22 April 2004 | 36281 words

Title: Rebellious (Part 5/9)
Series: THE RITUAL
Author: Valkyrie (email)
Pairings: Aragorn/Faramir, Aragorn/Arwen (implied)
Rating: NC17
Archive: yes, but let know where
Warnings: romantic situation between two males -do not read if you do not like
Summary: Aragorn makes a decision and Faramir disagrees.
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 FIVE – Rebellious

Faramir felt as though he was floating on a cloud. He entered his room and went straight to the balcony to watch Ithil full and high in the sky by now. He gripped the rail of the balcony and took a deep breath; the night was fresh. It seemed it was raining somewhere, the wind bringing sweet fragrances through the air. He was very happy. He had not been this happy for a very long time.

He did not stay in his rooms for dinner as he had in the morning at breakfast time. Tonight he felt as though he could face everything life threw his way. So, he went to have dinner in the King’s private dining hall. Aragorn had said to him when they arrived at the city’s gates that he would make sure his Steward would have the proper nourishment for said Steward was still too pale for the King’s liking.

The evening passed happily with good conversation, jokes and anecdotes from Aragorn’s friends. Prince Legolas and Gimli did not stop bantering amicably between each other and he became aware of the devilish nature of the Queen. She and Aragorn laughed much at the expense of one very funny childhood story by Prince Legolas. Another thing that did not escape his attention was how much Éowyn and he had in common. They spent the rest of the evening talking about everything and anything, jumping from one topic to another with the ease of friends who had known each other from times ago, though they had just met one or two times during their recovery in the houses of healing. Lady Éowyn had a wicked streak as well. Life in Gondor would never be the same. And this was good, very good.

The next day Faramir woke up early to talk to the captains before they went on patrol. Though these were times of peace, there were still bands of renegade Orcs, who endangered the life of travellers, dispersed all over the land.

When he arrived at the barracks the men were ready to depart within the hour. He approached Beregond, one of his most trusted captains and asked about the situation.

“We are going to the River’s borders, Captain Faramir. Last night, the troops encountered a large band of Orcs, there were two wounded among the men,” said Beregond.

The slight discomfort of his Captain did not escape the Steward’s eyes. “Why was I not informed of this?” asked Faramir in an icy tone.

“I personally informed the King last night about this situation, as soon as Tanalcar gave me his report. The King gave me his approval for this morning’s scout,” answered Beregond, knowing full well that his Captain would see through his sidestepping.

Beregond was increasingly nervous for he knew Captain Faramir’s temper very well, and though the Captain was not quick to anger for any reason, he certainly knew how to make things clear when something bothered him.

“You have not answered my question, Beregond,” said Faramir.

“My Captain, you are still recovering and…,”

“And who decided that I was not well enough to attend my duties? Was it you, Beregond? Or was it Tanalcar?” asked Faramir, his anger climbing higher with each passing moment.

The men waiting in the barracks for further instructions were relieved not to be in Beregond shoes. They all loved their Captain, but nobody wanted to be the target of Faramir’s anger.

“No, my Captain, it… it was very late and we did not want to disturb you,” said Beregond finally.

“You did not want to disturb me, you say,” repeated Faramir, not so understanding as Beregond wanted him to be. “But it was, no doubt, better to disturb the King at… what time did you say the troop came back?”

“Eleven, my Captain,” answered Beregond, feeling more cornered by the moment. He knew it would come to this, he knew it and had said so to the King but the King would not listen. The King had certainly not faced Faramir’s anger yet, for if he would only know…

“Then, Beregond,” continued Faramir with an icy and controlled voice. He certainly would not have been more intimidating if he had shouted his rage at the top of his lungs, “it is well to disturb the King, and the Queen for that matter, at eleven in the night, but it is not so for the Steward of the Realm, who is in charge of security to certainly spare the King unnecessary nuisances, such as a filthy band of Orcs roaming our borders?” asked Faramir, waiting for his Captain to answer.

“Forgive me, my Captain, but the King ordered us to inform him of this type of thing no matter what hour, day or night,” answered Beregond, hoping this would appease his Captain. The King had certainly not forbidden him from telling Captain Faramir of his orders but Beregond knew it was better not to tell his Captain about it anyway.

Faramir, for his part, sensed this would lead to nothing good. He saw the nervous look Beregond gave him and he knew this Captain had never flinched under a reprimand. Not even once. He complied with orders to the letter and accepted the consequences of his errors without even batting an eyelash. This discomfort indicated something else for sure and his intuition told him something he did not like at all.

“The King ordered you to inform him,” said Faramir at last, “and what did he say about informing ‘me’ about this ‘type of thing’?” asked Faramir, unable to help himself from throwing back Beregond’s own words.

Beregond lowered his gaze. He felt ashamed for lying to his Captain, and he would not lie for omission anymore. “Captain… The King ordered me to… he ordered me not to inform you yet of things concerning fights in the field. He said you were recovering still and that he wanted you in all your capacity if anything came to happen.”

Faramir was speechless. He looked Beregond straight in the eyes and saw nothing but concern there. Concern for his well-being. Nevertheless, he could not help but feel all-consuming rage. He realized Beregond waited for an answer. He could feel at his back the eyes of the men who witnessed this uncomfortable situation and along with the rage came the chagrin.

He had obeyed orders all his life. He had been ordered to heed the protocol proper of his station, to be someone he did not want to be, to do his duty even if it meant to walk willingly to his own death. These orders had been given to his face, to him and him alone, and he had complied with every one of them, because that had been his decision.

Now, for the first time in his life, he was ordered without him being there. A decision that concerned him was made without him being there. A choice was taken out of his hands. The choice to fight, to do his duty. It did not matter that it was the King who took this decision away, it did not matter that it was the very person to whom he, the Steward of Gondor, had to submit. This had never been done to him.

He was not brought from death to this. He wanted things to change but not this way, not this much. Was this how it was going to be from now on?

“Prepare my horse,” he said in a tightly controlled voice, the men behind him understood his order was to be followed without delay, “and you, Beregond, you will stay here, for this day you will not be on duty, you can say that to the King,” and saying this he left, leaving a very worried Beregond behind.

Aragorn was bored. Were these the important things the Council wanted to talk about? At this pace, he would have to do everything himself! The Council as it was now seemed a decorative thing. He would have to make changes because he certainly would not pass the rest of his days restrained to his office.

A knock on the door interrupted the senseless exposition about two farmers’ fight over who had the right to sell the crop where. A guard opened the door to reveal a tense looking Beregond.

“May I have a moment of your time, Sire? asked Beregond.

Aragorn had one look at Beregond expression and interrupted the proceedings. “I am afraid we will have to continue this meeting in the afternoon. Some things await my assistance without delay.” The Council members started to speak all at the same time until Aragorn interrupted them, “If you are incapable of dealing with these simple things on your own, you certainly are not apt to be on this Council. Is it not your task to give me advice and not ask ‘my’ opinion on these matters? If this is so then I will make the decisions all by myself and leave you to go on your merry way,” he finished, leaving the room and a very nonplussed Council behind.

The councillors, all men past their prime, Galen included, were speechless. This was unheard of; the Council had always been treated with utmost respect.

Aragorn bade Beregond to accompany him. They walked in silence until they reached the King’s office, where a guard opened the door for them.

“Well, Beregond, tell me what news you have and… Are you not supposed to be with the patrol?” said Aragorn, sitting down at his desk, placing his arms on the wooden surface, fingers intertwined.

“My King… I do not know how to say this, I just hope you forgive me for my incompetence,” said Beregond, staring directly into his King’s eyes. “Captain Faramir went to the barracks and realized that we were preparing for a scouting. He asked me why he was not informed about this and I really tried to sidestep him, Sire, but I never have lied to my Captain and as your Majesty did not prohibit me from speaking about your orders… Sire, I told him about your orders,” finished Beregond, preparing himself for everything, even the divestment of his rank.

Aragorn closed his eyes. This day was getting darker than black with every passing hour. He lifted his gaze to ask the Captain, “What did he say?”

“Sire, I have known Captain Faramir all my life and have seen him angered very few times, each one of them… Well, one can say one does not want to be at the receiving end of Captain Faramir’s anger, Sire. However, I have never seen him as angry as I saw him today. He asked me who had made the decision of not informing him of the scout, he said that he was the Steward of the Realm, and as soon as I told him whose orders those were… He suspended me for the rest of the day and asked for his horse. He left with the scout, taking my place.”

“WHAT? Are you telling me that Faramir went to chase a very large band of Orcs in his condition? Why did not anyone stop him for that matter?” asked Aragorn, leaping from his chair and circling the desk to see the Captain face to face.

Captain Beregond certainly thought this was one of the worst days of his life. He did not know what was worse, the King’s wrath or Captain Faramir’s. It did not matter, because the important thing here was he was in the middle of it. He wanted this day to end before ‘it’ ended him first.

“My King, with all due respect, nobody would have dared to stop Captain Faramir from doing anything. My King, with all due respect; none of us would have dared to stop Captain Faramir this morning. He made it abundantly clear what he thought of this. All of us under his charge respect and love him. Not few of us owe their lives to him. We would never dare to oppose Captain Faramir as we would never dare to oppose the King. Please, Sire, do not put me again in this position,” asked Beregond. “Though I owe my allegiance first to you, my King, I owe my obedience and friendship to Captain Faramir as well.”

Aragorn calmed down, somehow, during the Captain’s explanation. He realized now he had made a grave mistake in not telling Faramir of his decision. He was sure that if he had told Faramir, the young man would have complied. Or so he hoped. Now, due to his own stupidity and carelessness, Faramir was out there, enraged, thinking who knows what of all of this. Of him.

“It is fine, Beregond. The fault is mine; I should have talked to him first. Please, inform me of any news, I will be in the Council room. If anything happens do not hesitate to interrupt,” and with this Aragorn dismissed the Captain.

Aragorn sat at his desk again, and a headache started to press behind his eyelids. Now that he came to think of it, Faramir would be prone to see this as a lack of confidence in him; as though he would try to divest him of his duties as a Steward. He started to rub his temples and decided to cancel the Council meeting for the afternoon. He would not pay any attention to it anyway, being this worried. His heart felt heavy and a sudden revelation burned through it.

He admitted to himself he was in love with Faramir and could not ever part from him. He would grieve greatly if anything happened to the young man. A knock on the door interrupted his dark thoughts and he bid the visitant to come in.

Galen entered the office, a grave expression on his face. “I gather you know the news, Sire?” asked the councillor.

“What news would those be?” asked Aragorn in return, he was not in the mood for one of Galen’s lectures. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“Faramir has gone with the patrol, Sire. Do you realize the Crowning Ceremony will take place two days from today and that if he is not present, he would—”

“If he is not present, Galen,” interrupted Aragorn, “then we delay the ceremony; we will delay it another week if necessary. If he arrives next year, the ceremony will take place then, is that understood or will I have to repeat myself?” His gaze betrayed how cold he felt inside right now.

Galen bowed and left the office. He saw this was not the moment to speak to the King.

The King was left alone once more, guilt heavy in his heart.

The patrol rode non-stop for three hours and during that time, Faramir’s thoughts were consumed alternatively by anger and guilt. Anger for being cast aside like he was useless and guilt for having disobeyed a direct order from the King. Then anger overtook him again as he thought the situation over. He decided the order was not given to him at all. No, he was sidestepped.

You are brave, Faramir, he said, You are a great warrior, he said, You are worthy, he said. But what does he do? Put me to shame in front of my men. That he does.

Faramir didn’t see anything of the bright day that seemed to mock his dark mood. He pushed his horse harder in rhythm with his thoughts. The men under his command had never wished so much to encounter Orcs on their way. At least, that way their Captain would vent his anger on the vile creatures. They thought, anyway, that their Captain was more than capable, wound recovered or not. They had seen him doing battle with fresh wounds gracing his body. They did not doubt Captain Faramir was capable of handling this situation.

Then, the orcs were spotted right ahead, and with a cry of war, he led his men into fight.

“I concede the part of your own stupidity beloved,” said Arwen, trying to appease her husband for the umpteenth time and failing on purpose.

The King and his Queen were in the royal chambers. Faramir had been gone the whole day and Aragorn was beyond himself. He could not sleep and it seemed he was not going to let his Queen sleep either.

“If you want to comfort me, my love, you are not getting the work done at all,” said Aragorn, in a suspiciously whining tone most unbecoming of a King.

“That is the point, beloved,” answered Arwen, “that way, you will think twice before you meddle like that again. I take the opportunity to warn you that if you ever do anything of the like to me, you will certainly be sorry,” she continued in the sweetest tone of voice.

“Oh Valar! I foresee the two of you will be the death of me,” said Aragorn.

“Please, love—”

Arwen did not get to say what she was going to say, for a knock on the door interrupted her.

Aragorn was out of the bed in no time and grabbing his robe, went to answer the door. He was sure that at this late hour it had to be news about Faramir. His heart wanted to escape his chest, he just prayed to the Valar and all his ancestors that Faramir would be fine.

“What news do you have?” asked Aragorn. “They have returned, my King, Captain Faramir is unwounded but he is at the houses of healing for three men have injuries and one died in the fight,” Beregond informed Aragorn.

“Thanks, Beregond, inform Captain Faramir I expect him in my office at once, tell him to wait in the office if I have not arrived, and then take a rest, it seems you need it,” answered Aragorn. He felt like his soul had flown from his body and returned. He went back into the room, changed into comfortable clothes and headed to his office to face Faramir, not before hearing a cheerful good luck from his Queen.

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