Faramir Fiction Archive

The Song of the Steward and the King (NC-17)

Written by Raihon

19 March 2006 | 32932 words

Chapter 12 – Answering the Call

Faramir dreamed again: the evening star grew ever brighter on the Western horizon, brighter even than the sun, and on the shores of the Anduin, orchards and fields spread all the way to the sea. The star began to set and it became two stars, then four, then sixteen, then hundreds, and when darkness fell, great cities grew up in the light of the full moon.

Faramir awoke entangled in Aragorn’s limbs. He smiled and embraced the warm body beside him. I do not recall falling asleep, he thought, and then the shock hit him again, as he recalled the words they had exchanged and the vision from his dream. Though this second dream was clearer and more powerful than the last, Faramir could not help feeling profoundly foolish for quoting ancient prophecy to Aragorn earlier that night. The King was used to understanding his fate in such lofty terms, but Faramir, second son to the Steward of Gondor, was not. He dreamed of others’ fates, not of his own.

Éowyn was right: he had gotten a taste of glory and renown, and he was now trying to turn his weakness of the flesh into magic and destiny. He felt wretched and pulled away from Aragorn, wishing he could leave, but since they were in his bedchamber and it was the middle of the night, all he could do for now was to dress and go stand on the balcony.

The air was cool but not cold and smelled fresh and green, promising a fine spring day. At first, the thought of the ride back home cheered him. But then he thought to himself, ah, but Aragorn is coming with you, and if my memory by unbridled lust has not been dulled, the subsequent event to that ride, by my own design, may involve a liaison between my King and my beloved wife. Faramir rubbed his temples with his fingers and wondered, have I lost my senses and fallen into depravity? My mind is as impenetrable as the night, even to myself.

Then strong arms embraced him and the King gazed with him into the garden. “What draws you to the garden, my love? Has the morning bird’s song called you hence?” Aragorn asked.

Faramir knew not what to say and held his tongue until the impropriety of their state aroused his worry. “My Lord, someone might see you here,” he finally managed.

“So return with me to the bed.” Aragorn pulled him back into the chamber, a seductive smile on his face.

Faramir was too embarrassed to be seduced and he sat on the edge of the bed and bowed his head in his hands. “I feel quite the fool.”

“Why? What troubles you?” Aragorn asked with concern, and knelt on the floor beside Faramir.

A moment passed before Faramir thought to protest, pulling on Aragorn’s arms, “please, my Lord, get up!”

“It is still night and we are still alone; am I to be your King again so soon?” Aragorn asked, hurt. “Please, tell me what distresses you.”

Suddenly Aragorn lay his head in Faramir’s lap and encircled his waist with his arms. “Nay, tell me not,” he said, his voice breaking. “I fear to look in your eyes lest I see regret over the love we made tonight.” He was quiet for a moment and then said softly, “no, I will know it. Speak truthfully: you wish to take back what has passed between us.”

Aragorn’s distress caused Faramir’s irritation with himself to increase tenfold and he was agitated by the fear betrayed in Aragorn’s voice. “No, Aragorn,” he said soothingly, smoothing the King’s hair, “my distress is caused by the unguarded words I spoke before. Weakened by the strength of my passion for you, vanity got the better of me and played me for the fool. Please forget what I said. Were that I could also forget.”

Aragorn moved to the bed, sat beside Faramir, rubbed his eyes, and ran a hand through his hair. He took a deep breath and seemed to steady himself, but he would not look at Faramir. He took Faramir’s hand in his and pressed it to his lips, where he held it for a long while ere he spoke. “So you do not believe to be true what I said about the blood of Númenor?”

“Vanity utters praise no fool would repeat,” Faramir muttered, but his dream made him wonder if he was not being falsely modest.

Aragorn released his hand and now looked Faramir in the eye. “Then doubt you your own senses? Something is in you, or so you perceive, every time we embrace. If it is not some force of great power, what, then, would you call it?”

Faramir looked at him and considered what he should say. The kindness in Aragorn’s eyes began to twist into something else, and the longer the two men looked at each other, the more Faramir felt he was crushing Aragorn with his silence and wounding him with his doubt. What could he say?

Aragorn stood up and began to dress hastily, almost throwing his clothing onto himself.

“Aragorn, wait,” Faramir said pleadingly.

Aragorn held up a finger as if about to make a point, and his eyes flashed with anger, but he forbore from speaking. He lowered his finger and strode up to Faramir. “You think that what you felt was simple animal lust,” he said bitterly. Faramir could not reply, and he saw that Aragorn took that to be confirmation of his accusation. Aragorn allowed his pain to show for a moment, then turned away.

“How well you repay others’ faith in you! I did not feel foolish about what you said earlier tonight, but now I know not what to think.” He made for the door, but turned around again. “Would it be so troubling to know your future would be blessed? That all you sought to achieve in this life would be done? That…” and here he became choked up again, “that you would have love in abundance for the rest of your days? Do you not know yourself worthy of these things?” he asked, his voice agonized.

Faramir was struck dumb at the intensity of Aragorn’s emotions.

For a moment, Aragorn seemed to be struggling to control his feelings, but then they burst forth again, propelling him back across the room to Faramir where he said in a stern voice, “will you not learn to bear the indignities of fame like the man you are? The time is no more when you may hide in the shadow of your father or your brother, or of any man! Answer the call of your destiny, Faramir, Steward of Gondor! Your hour draws near, but you know it not.”

As Aragorn spoke these heated words, Faramir at first experienced alarm, then anger rose in him, but now he suddenly comprehended, and he rose to his feet and surprised Aragorn by grabbing his head and bringing his lips to Aragorn’s mouth for a tender kiss. “Oh, Aragorn,” he whispered. “I see you! I see how the burden of your blood taxes you yet, but I will do everything in my power to make it easier for you to answer the call.”

Then Aragorn embraced him so tightly it cut off his breath and whispered, “it is yourself you do not see, my brother.” Then he relaxed his hold a little and said, “I believe what you said tonight, Faramir. You must also answer the call. I believe that every hour we have spent together is fraught with meaning beyond the understanding of our minds. I know this call, and we are to answer it together.”

More than anything, Faramir wanted to soothe Aragorn, to agree to his lofty words and, for the sake of the King, accept the mantle of the heroes of old, but such thoughts just would not sit comfortably with a man such as he. He nestled into the warmth of Aragorn’s arms. “I even dreamed of it. Tonight was the second time,” he confessed. “I wish the meaning of this was sure in me as it seems to be in you, but it is not.”

Aragorn released him from his embrace and said with a small smile, “let us go, then.”

“Where are we going?”

“To seek Arwen’s counsel.”

After a quick and furtive walk through the darkened hallways to the Queen’s bedchamber, Faramir found himself recounting his dream and quoting an ancient prophecy before a child of the ancients.

“Your Quenya is beautiful,” she said.

“Thank you. Mithrandir taught me,” Faramir replied, unable to hold her gaze.

“It is clear that the sun is setting on our age. So what is the question at hand?” Arwen asked, looking from her husband to the Steward. “The sons of Númenor’s twilight stand before me and ask me what they are made of: earth, or starlight? That is the question.”

Aragorn nodded.

“Lord Faramir,” the Queen said, “what difference would it make if you believed that you were to be one of the stars in the prophecy? Would you live your life any differently knowing that your life was to be the last blaze of Númenor’s glory?”

Faramir sat down on a chair and thought for a while. What difference, indeed, would it make to him to believe that his life was graced and his actions were destined to benefit his people? Would he not make all the same decisions? Or might he become careless in his confidence?

“My Lady,” he began, “the King chided me earlier, and rightly so, for wishing away the burden of greatness. But he has learned to shoulder his responsibilities with humility and grace, and his example could guide me to do likewise. The real source of my fear and doubt lies in my belief in the fallibility of men. If one is confident that one can do no wrong, then there is no incentive to guard against weakness, prejudice, or poor judgment. Impulse takes the place of reason and ends are made to justify means.”

Arwen nodded and graced him with a rare smile. “There is much wisdom in what you say, but look behind the words of the prophecy. ’No doors shall be closed,’ but how easily will they open? ‘Stone and earth will bend to their will,’ but will must be exercised, perhaps at great cost.” She now regarded both men gravely.

Faramir’s breath was tight in his chest as he waited for her to speak again.

“If it is true,” she said at last, and Faramir let out a long sigh of relief at the sound of the word “if,” “then this force inside you will grow along with the strength of your bond to my husband. That is how you will know your role in this. Your own feelings will speak the truth to you.”

A chill passed down Faramir’s spine. To hear the Queen speak this way of his bond with the King made it suddenly seem much more real to him and he realized that until then, he had been half expecting this attachment to end at any moment. Now it began to sink in that there was much more at stake than his vanity.

Arwen turned to the King. “You, too, must look beyond your assumptions, Estel. ’Love makes them mighty,’ it is said. But there is a gap in the circle of love that would sustain you.”

Aragorn shifted uncomfortably in his chair and glanced at Faramir.

Faramir looked at Arwen with sudden comprehension, then said with a small smile,

Four less one is less than three
And four less two is naught to me
Two plus two is four reborn
But what holds up our Aragorn?

Arwen laughed with pleasure. “It is not just the blood of Númenor that shows itself in you tonight, my friend. I also claim you as one of my kin!”

Then Arwen grew serious and said, “I thought that once Éowyn returned to Gondor, Estel would be able to traverse the distance between them, but he was not able to find the right path. Instead, he moved yet farther away from her, fearing to interfere with your happiness. And now that you have given him joy beyond what your humility will allow you to know, he is also held back from action by his fear of losing you.”

“Arwen,” Aragorn moaned, “you say too much.”

“And you conceal too much that would be to your benefit to share. All four of us must understand our part in this if we are to act rightly.”

Faramir looked to Aragorn, who was now leaning forward, elbows on knees and his head in his hands. Many mysterious things now made sense, including Aragorn’s strangely antagonizing behavior toward Éowyn. Aragorn’s turbulent emotions of that evening were also now clear to Faramir and he felt profoundly humbled at the depth of feeling he now understood Aragorn bore for him. Aragorn yet doubts my devotion, he thought, because he misconstrues my doubt of myself.

Though he felt shy in front of Arwen, Faramir could no longer bear to see Aragorn suffer without attempting to comfort him. He went to Aragorn and sat on the arm of his chair, caressing his back.

“If this is prophecy, it cannot yet be fulfilled,” Arwen said. “A dissonant note will spoil the harmony, so you must take care, Estel. Your fear of Éowyn’s love has drawn your attention away from a development that is much more damaging.”

Faramir was amazed to hear Arwen’s variation on his earlier words to the King.

“She simply no longer cares for you,” Arwen said to her husband, “and that indifference is a problem that only you can solve.”

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