Faramir Fiction Archive

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

Written by Raihon

19 March 2006 | 32932 words

Chapter 13 – Closing the Circle

They rode, the sun-warmed soil soft beneath the hooves of their horses. They rode, two alone, though the captain of the tower guard had insisted that he send a rider to later on to accompany the King back home. Faramir had noted the grim resignation in Aragorn’s face when he agreed to be met at the foot of the road leading in to the Emyn Arnen four hours hence.

They rode, quickly bringing their horses to a gallop and swiftly covering the short distance across the Pelennor to the Harlond. The cool spring wind whipped through their hair and the smell of freshly turned earth greeted them as they sped past the fields and half-rebuilt settlements.

They rode more slowly as they approached the wall, briefly surveying its condition before leaving their horses in care of the men at the ferry crossing. A small boat took them across to the Ithilien side and they walked the three miles up the hillside. When the road went through a small forest, the path was thick with rotten leaves and pine needles. The smell was heady and lush, and Aragorn paused to take a deep draught of the forest air.

“It is marvelous here,” he sighed.

Faramir smiled and held his breath. If the King did not turn from him and proceed up the path, he feared that nothing would restrain him from throwing him down under the trees and kissing him passionately.

Aragorn put a hand on his shoulder and started to laugh. “No,” he shook his head. “No! Stop! Your thoughts are transparent as the air!”

Faramir laughed and roughly plunged toward Aragorn, who slipped out of his grasp. “My Lord Steward,” Aragorn laughed, running up the hill, “you forget yourself!”

Faramir was suddenly overcome by a childhood memory of roughhousing with his brother on a fine spring day, and his joy at his freedom with Aragorn mixed with the emptiness of Boromir’s absence. And so he walked, a bittersweet smile on his face and tears brimming in his eyes.

On the approach to the estate, they were greeted by Luthir, who told them that all was well in the house of the Prince. The guard let them in the front gate and told them that lunch would soon be ready.

“Are you hungry?” When Aragorn shook his head, Faramir said, “good, neither am I and I want to tell Éowyn the good news right away.”

They walked up the stone steps to the large wooden house and entered the handsomely inlaid Elvish door. “Éowyn?” Faramir called.

“Welcome back, my Lord. She is upstairs,” a voice called from the next room. Maida emerged into the entryway. “Oh!” she exclaimed when she saw Aragorn and bowed deeply. “Welcome, King Elessar!”

The King nodded to her. “Thank you, Maida, is it? It is nice to see you again.”

The young woman blushed and took their cloaks.

“Maida, please go tell cook that the King will be joining us for lunch and then please set a place for him,” Faramir said, patting her on the shoulder.

“Yes, Lord Faramir,” the girl curtsied and scurried across the yard to the building that housed the estate’s kitchen and the dining hall for informal meals.

“Wait here a moment, my Lord,” Faramir said. “I will tell her you are here.”

Faramir darted up the steps two at a time and found Éowyn in the sunny workroom located off their bedchamber.

“You are home so early!” she exclaimed, rising to embrace him.

Faramir kissed her and held her close. “I brought the King.”

Éowyn looked up at him with a mixture of emotions on her face.

“He has good news for you,” Faramir reassured her.

“Shall we go down to him?” Éowyn asked.

Faramir suppressed a smile. “Better I bring him up here.”

Faramir watched Éowyn’s face turn from bemusement to delight as the King explained the decision of the council that she should take charge of working with the Elves in Ithilien.

“My Lord,” Éowyn said, “I know not what to say. This honor fills me with gratitude and joy to my very depths. When shall I begin?”

“I fear you must put away these embroidery frames to make room for a work table where you can organize your reports,” Aragorn teased. Gesturing around the room, he said “those seedlings will have to be moved to the greenhouse because you will need another large table by that window for the drafting plans. And I noticed that the entry hall is rather bare; you will require more chairs for your superintendents while they await your orders.”

Éowyn laughed with pleasure. “And I will need a secretary to accompany me on land surveys, and I will have to seek out the elders in the towns to gain knowledge about the care and use of local plants, and…will I be required to report to the Council?” she asked hopefully.

Aragorn smiled. “Thrice yearly.”

Éowyn looked from Faramir to Aragorn and back again to Faramir. “This is good news, indeed.”

Faramir took her hand, and in his other hand he took the King’s. Slowly he drew their hands close and clasped them together with his own. Éowyn gave him a suspicious look, but he directed her eyes to the King’s face with his own gaze.

Aragorn’s eyes showed his worry, but he smiled at Éowyn. “My Lady, as my advisor, as the wife of Faramir, and also, I hope, as my friend, I would have you understand something of my attitude toward you in the past.”

Faramir looked back to Éowyn’s face, anxiously trying to read her reactions. She frowned a little, but returned the King’s smile. “What is it, Lord Aragorn?”

“To resolve a puzzle that troubled you, Faramir asked me a question about my feelings for you. Why I never returned the love we both knew you felt.”

Faramir removed his hands from theirs and Éowyn made to take a step backward, but the King grasped her by both hands now. “Truly, it troubles me no longer, my Lord,” she said a little breathlessly. “You need not speak of it.”

“I appreciate your efforts to spare me this difficult conversation, but your words do not come from your heart,” Aragorn said, some anguish in his voice. “Rightly does it seem strange to you that I freely disclose my feelings to your husband, yet I hide my feelings from you.”

“Lord Aragorn, let the past be what it was. Do not bring me back to such unhappy times,” Éowyn pled, still trying to release her hands from the King’s grasp.

“Then let us speak only of the present. Discretion prohibited me from saying it then, but as wrong as the time was then, so now is the time right.” Slowly Aragorn drew her closer to him. “You think I never cared for you, but what man would not love you, so strong, so lovely?” he said with feeling.

Faramir saw Éowyn grow pale and her lip tremble. Aragorn continued, “I tell you this with no burden upon you to act or to speak in response but I would have you know that I have loved you ever since I saw you at Edoras. But always there was good reason for me to convince you otherwise, until you were so distant to me I could no longer reach you. But now I have come, and I hope it is not too late to rekindle in your heart at least the warmth of friendship towards me.”

Faramir watched Éowyn closely. She looked to him, and her eyes shone with tears and something fearful. Faramir leaned in to her, kissed her on the lips, and smiled. Slowly the color came back to her cheek and she looked up at Aragorn, a crease on her brow as she contemplated him.

“Lord Aragorn,” she said slowly, “if these words come from your heart, I think I begin to understand why I saw coldness in your eyes when in the past I sought the reflection of my love. But long has my own heart been cooled by the veiled look of your eye. Now you wish to rekindle its warmth.” She took a deep breath that exited as a shuddering sigh. “But what if this fire spreads?”

She looked to Faramir and her eyes challenged him to stop her. He held her gaze and gave a small nod, his heart pounding and his palms growing damp. Éowyn’s voice grew stronger now as she said “you require no action or response, yet I would act. I will respond. A man cannot take a woman into his arms and tell her he loves her, then hasten her back to her daily cares, even if that man is the King. So tell me, Aragorn, what else would you rekindle in me?”

Faramir saw that Aragorn was struggling with his answer to this question, so he moved his body behind Éowyn’s and gently pressed her towards the King.

Éowyn reached up with one hand, pulled Aragorn’s face to her, and kissed him hard. She then looked at him fiercely. “I do not believe you,” she said finally. “Your kiss is temperate, and so is your love, at least towards me.” Faramir squeezed her shoulder. “I will give you my friendship, but I will not trust your words.”

For one more moment, Aragorn held back, giving Faramir a searching look and Faramir gave him a nod of assent. Then Aragorn’s expression changed utterly, his gentle and troubled look dissolving into wild desire. He grabbed Éowyn’s face in his hands and kissed her passionately. She threw her arms around his neck as Faramir pressed into them both, Aragorn’s hands moved down over Éowyn’s and Faramir’s shoulders to rest on Faramir’s waist. Éowyn threw her head back against Faramir as Aragorn kissed her neck, and Faramir slipped his hands between them to caress her breasts.

“Éowyn,” Aragorn moaned, kissing her face, “doubt me not. I long for you,” and again he kissed her deeply and pressed hard into her. Faramir smiled and nuzzled the side of Éowyn’s bare neck. He then withdrew from them to open the door to the bedchamber.

As Aragorn and Éowyn kissed and caressed each other in the middle of the workroom, Faramir barred the main door to the bedroom, shut the window and drew the curtain. He was fairly certain they were alone in the house, but the kitchen was just across the yard. He went back to the other room and led the other two by the hand into the bedroom, where he and the King undressed Éowyn. Faramir watched the King’s face glow as he caressed the smooth skin of Éowyn’s shoulders, and his fingers traced the outlines of her small, firm breasts. He watched Éowyn’s face, hot with desire, as the King bent down to take a nipple in his mouth, and Éowyn drew Faramir to her to lean on as she gasped with pleasure when the King’s fingers dove into her.

When Aragorn stood up straight again, she pulled away from both of them and said to Faramir, “I want to see you kiss him.”

Faramir’s hardness leapt at her words and he took Aragorn in his arms, kissing him tenderly. Éowyn slid her hand down Faramir’s backside, then between his legs, and teased him with her fingers. He turned to her and their mouths danced as Aragorn undid Faramir’s clothes. Then he removed Aragorn’s clothes while Éowyn watched, her eyes sparkling as Faramir’s caresses made Aragorn moan. Then they moved to enclose Aragorn within their embrace, Éowyn in front and Faramir behind.

As Faramir bit down softly on the back of Aragorn’s neck, he heard him say, “Éowyn, do you know what time in your cycle…?”

Faramir’s eyes flew open and he took a step back. It had not even occurred to him to worry about that none too small question, though Aragorn had made it clear he was quite cautious in such matters. It occurred to him that mending the rift with Éowyn must be very important to Aragorn, and to Arwen, for them to take such a risk.

Éowyn thought for a moment and then nodded. “There is no danger.”

“Be utterly sure,” Aragorn cautioned.

Éowyn looked up at Aragorn questioningly. “I am due on the morrow. But if you would rather not…” she could not finish her sentence because Aragorn had stopped her mouth with his kiss and her words turned into a moan.

Aragorn pushed her back on the bed and knelt between her knees, hungrily devouring her with his mouth. Faramir joined Éowyn on the bed and kissed her deeply as she reached down to stroke him. Aragorn’s muffled groans of delight nearly sent him over the edge, so Faramir concentrated on kissing his wife until her cries of passion drove him back to watch as her climax played out across her face.

Éowyn sat up and Faramir moved so that his back was to the wall to make room for Aragorn on the bed. Éowyn slid backwards between his legs, pulling Aragorn on top of her, so that Faramir cradled both of them in his lap, Éowyn’s head resting on one of his splayed thighs. Aragorn kissed Éowyn and then found Faramir’s hardness with his mouth. Éowyn was pinned between them and watched with delight as the King pleasured her husband. Then she turned her head a little more, and her tongue was darting along the parts of him that Aragorn could not reach.

Given such attentions, Faramir’s release was quick and the moment the King was done with him, Aragorn said to Éowyn, “lean a little more against your husband,” and rose slightly to let Faramir taste his mouth. Faramir helped position Éowyn under Aragorn so that the back of her head rested against Faramir’s chest.

The view this gave Faramir of Éowyn’s body was arousing him again and he watched with delighted fascination as the King gently entered her with a low moan, and his face softened, as if a burden had been lifted. For a moment, Faramir’s eyes locked with Aragorn’s and he could see the hunger building and within his own body, he felt something else growing, a feeling that was now becoming familiar and much less frightening. Aragorn’s second thrust was deeper, and by the third, Éowyn’s body went rigid and such a loud cry escaped her that Faramir briefly wondered that the servants did not come running from the kitchen. He gently covered Éowyn’s mouth with one hand and used the other to caress her breast as Aragorn thrust into her, occasionally looking into Faramir’s eyes with naked desire, his face contorted with pleasure. Éowyn thrashed wildly, the nails of one hand digging in to Faramir’s shoulder and the other hand buried in Aragorn’s hair.

Faramir wished he could get his hand between his wife’s legs to add to her pleasure, but he had not the reach without disturbing her position, so he had to content himself with caressing her upper half while Aragorn played an intricate rhythm below. At first Aragorn had been crouched above Éowyn, taking her hard and fast, and she had continued to cry out so uninhibitedly that Faramir’s hand still covered her mouth. Then the King had slid her body down a little so he could lay down on top of her. Now his thrusts were deeper but less forceful. All this Faramir could feel through his wife’s body, and he vividly recalled how it felt to be receiving such thrusts, and wondered if it felt at all the same for men and women.

The King was muttering in her ear, but Faramir could only catch snatches: “…so much…tell you…wanted to be with you…so long…to taste you and feel…dream made real.” Faramir caressed the back of Aragorn’s head. Éowyn’s face grew tender as she looked at Aragorn, and a tear fell from her eye.

Éowyn wrapped her arms and legs tightly around Aragorn’s body and her sighs of pleasure were like sobs, but her mouth wore a peaceful smile. Her eyes then closed and her open mouth began to pant out the words, “at last, at last.” And Faramir felt every fiber of his being come alive with the blood of Númenor and he knew with certainty that this force within him was born not of animal passion, but of the most worthy part of the makeup of men.

Aragorn raised himself up a little and grasped Faramir’s thigh and stayed still in Éowyn to gaze into Faramir’s eyes. Éowyn, too, turned her head to see him, and Faramir smiled and said with great emotion, “I love you both.” Aragorn held his gaze for a moment more, then looking again into Éowyn’s eyes, passion tore him away as he cried, “oh, Éowyn!” and finished inside her with a frantic flurry of thrusts that left Éowyn gasping for breath.

For a moment they stayed in place and Faramir felt the sweat of the others trickling down his body. Then Aragorn rolled off to one side and Éowyn to the other. Aragorn pulled Faramir’s arm so that he was lying down between them, each one curling around him and kissing his shoulder, his neck, his face. Faramir felt tears of happiness welling in his eyes. He looked to Éowyn, trying to read her face. Was she content?

Éowyn looked at him through half-closed lids, her face flushed and feminine. She graced him with a devilish smile that turned into a peal of laughter. “Oh my husband!” she laughed. “In all the legends of both our lands, never has there been a husband who loved his wife as you do – with the help of another man!”

All three of them shook with laughter.

Faramir turned his body to Éowyn’s and smiled shyly. “Perhaps the legend has yet to be told of the woman worthy of being loved by both the Steward and the King.”

Aragorn lay his head on Faramir’s shoulder and reached across his body to caress Éowyn’s face. “Then let us now, very quietly, sing the song of the Lady, her husband, and the man who loved them both.”

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