Faramir Fiction Archive

To Love a King (NC-17)

Written by Minx

05 April 2004 | 32130 words

Chapter 11

Legolas grabbed Faramir as he pitched forward, and gently pulled the unconscious man into his arms, tugging his legs from under Ardamir’s prone form. The stained knife lay on the ground, having fallen out of the older man’s hands when Gimli had shoved him off a struggling Faramir. Minardil and Turgon of the guard had taken care of Merdil at the outset, and in the confusion that ensued; Ardamir had turned from where Aragorn lay to attack Faramir. He had grabbed the dazed Steward by his hair and slammed him into the ground, all the while screaming at him. Legolas had reached them just in time to prevent him driving the knife into Faramir’s unprotected midriff.

“He said Aragorn was hurt!” he called out to Gimli and Minardil, where they stood over Aragorn. Turgon was determinedly seeing to the two conspirators.

“Yes, he has an injury to his forehead, but he is rising now,” Minardil called out.

Aragorn was indeed trying to rise, despite Gimli’s best efforts to prevent him doing so. He looked dazed and confused, having woken up amidst the struggles that had ensued around him. His face was pale and the blood that seeped out of the cut under his hairline, stood out starkly against the grey skin. He was trying now to take stock of his surroundings.

“What is happening?” he murmured tiredly, as Minardil helped him sit up, “Where – Is that Merdil?”

The other man simply nodded, as Aragorn buried his aching head in his hands, and then almost immediately jerked it up, ignoring the pain that hit him.

“Faramir!” he shouted fearfully, “I saw him. Where is he?”

“He is well,” Gimli tried to reassure him, as Aragorn made to get to his feet. He stumbled over the stones towards Legolas who was still holding Faramir.

“He is a little bruised, Aragorn, but I think he will be all right,” the Elf stated.

Aragorn crouched by them and gently brushed the hair off Faramir’s face and studied the discoloured forehead and face, and then examined the cut on the shoulder. It was an ugly gash, and still bleeding, but it was not very deep. He could see other signs of injury too, marks all over the body, and a shallow wound in the palm of the right hand.

Aragorn himself was in no fit condition. He sank to his knees and tried to think clearly but his head was pounding. He looked around once again.

“Rath Dinen,” he gasped softly, as he realised where they were.

“They chose a fine place,” Gimli muttered sarcastically, the anger coming through clearly. The Silent Street had plenty of connotations and none of them seemed pleasant given the circumstances, especially for Faramir.

“Let me see to his injuries,” Aragorn said painfully, standing up once again. His head whirled as he rose, and he nearly fell, only Minardil’s hand on his arm keep him up.

“He will be fine,” the older man said gently, “Come, Sire, you are hurt too. We should get you in. It is too cold. Turgon, arrest those two men.”

“We’ll see to Faramir,” Gimli assured him, while Legolas effortlessly scooped up the Steward’s unmoving form.

Aragorn nodded unhappily, and finally accepted Minardil’s arm, his face scrunching up in pain. The councillor gently led him back to the Citadel with Gimli’s help. They decided to use the passage, having no desire to attract untoward attention. Turgon stayed behind to watch over their prisoners until the rest of the guard came to take them away.

A chilly breeze was heralding the onset of dawn as they left the street. The sky had lightened somewhat. Aragorn stubbornly stayed awake all through the walk back to his rooms, collapsing against Minardil only when he reached his chambers, the headache from his wound proving too much to bear.

---

The Warden of the Houses of Healing had hurried to the Citadel to tend to both men. After seeing to their wounds, he had declared that neither was seriously hurt. Faramir might need to keep his arm in a sling for a few days and both would probably suffer a bad headache, but that would be all.

The others heaved a sigh of relief at that. They had been worried they may have arrived too late when they had seen Aragorn lying still on the ground, and Faramir struggling against the attackers. Their arrival had been a matter of chance. Wishing to ask Aragorn if he wished to join them over the ale they had brought back from one of the taverns, Legolas and Gimli had stopped at the king’s chambers only to find them empty, and the chair that had been propped against the passage entrance no longer in place. It had been the tiny stains of blood from the cut in Faramir’s palm that had alerted them to danger. A closer look revealed hastily covered up signs of struggle. The stains had shown them the way down the passage too, and hurriedly calling on Minardil and Turgon for help they had set out in search of their friends.

When Aragorn woke up later in the day, he had wanted to rise immediately, and had much to say on the subject of his enforced bed rest. Leaving the angry king to deal with the Warden, the two friends had hastily escaped to Faramir’s rooms in search of a little quiet. Faramir had slept all through since they had brought him back, waking up just once for the briefest of seconds. Legolas felt a little guilty as he noticed the exhaustion written on the sleeping man’s face, when he thought of how he had deliberately chosen to speak to Faramir on a subject that he should really have spoken to Aragorn of. But Aragorn was a very close friend, and Legolas had found it easier to confront Faramir first, especially as he had found that that way he could safely vent his anger and frustration on the other man, something he could never get himself to do with Aragorn.

“Poor lad,” Gimli said, “He looks tired.”

“He’s waking up,” Legolas exclaimed, as he saw Faramir stir under the covers.

“I’ll get the Warden,” Gimli offered.

“Yes, but do not let Aragorn know. He will not lie still!” Legolas said as he darted towards Faramir who was trying to push off his covers in his half-asleep state. Legolas stroked his hair gently and urged him to wake up, as he murmured something unintelligible. Faramir awoke in a haze of dull pain. His shoulder stung, and his head throbbed miserably. He blinked a few times, trying to figure out why he felt so tired. The memories came rushing back, and he sat up gasping in horror, as he remembered that someone had been trying to kill Aragorn. Then, he realised he was in his chambers and not out on the grass where he last remembered being. “Hush, now, don’t move yet. Let me help you,” the soft, musical voice rang in his ear, and he looked up in surprise at Legolas’s concerned expression, and he wondered of it had all just been a dream. “Legolas? What do you do here?” he asked, his voice strangely hoarse and dry. “Would you like some water?” the Elf asked gently. He nodded, and tried to sit up only to fall back down with a cry. A sharp sliver of pain shot through his head, another through his ribs and shoulder, and unbidden tears pooled in his eyes, as he gasped at the waking sensations. “Lie still,” Legolas cried out softly, “Let me help you.” He nodded, and tried to sit up only to fall back down with a cry. A sharp sliver of pain shot through his head, another through his arm and unbidden tears pooled in his eyes, as he gasped at the waking sensations. It hadn’t been a dream he realised. Merdil and Ardamir had indeed attacked Aragorn.

“Aragorn,” he pleaded hoarsely, unable to speak beyond that.

“He’s fine,” Legolas said soothingly.

He found himself pulled up leaning against the Elf’s chest. Too confused to think clearly, he obediently opened his mouth and sipped the water that Legolas fed him slowly. He felt very tired, and he was extremely worried for Aragorn. He wanted to sleep but not until he had seen for himself that Aragorn was safe. He asked for him yet again. More voices filtered through his muddled brain and he struggled to concentrate finding the Warden, and Gimli had entered the room. They wouldn’t let him get up again. The Warden looked him over, even as he protested, then gave him a healing draught, which soon put him to sleep again.

When he woke a second time, he felt much better, and this time he had a clear memory of all that had happened. He sat up quickly against his pillows and yawning, glanced around his rooms, stiffening when his eyes fell on the figure curled up in the large chair by the fireplace. A white bandage stood out under the dark hair, and the face was still a little pale and drawn but it was still the face he loved. “Aragorn,” he cried out softly, and regretted ot immediately for the king seemed to be resting and he had no wish to disturb him. Aragorn however, came awake immediately and turning at the sound, moved forward swiftly, his expression relieved and happy. Soon Faramir found himself wrapped around a careful but loving embrace, his face being subjected to a series of gentle kisses.

He found he was sobbing silently, tears coursing down his cheeks, even as kisses rained down on him.

“Why do you cry? Do you hurt anywhere?” Aragorn demanded fervently, pulling away a little, and subjecting Faramir to a critical scrutiny.

“No, I am well, but I was so scared for you. They wouldn’t let me get up and – Oh Aragorn! You are hurt! You should not be out of bed,” Faramir said worriedly, as he fingered the bandage.

“I sneaked out, but Celion waits for me outside. They said you were sleeping for you were very tired, but I was so worried for you, I had to see you for myself” Aragorn murmured, as he stroked Faramir’s hair gently.

Faramir moved a little and made space for Aragorn so that they could sit comfortably in each other’s arms.

“I was afraid they hurt you badly. You were lying so still all the while,” Faramir said quietly, “If it had not been for the others arriving when they did, I fear -,” he shuddered at the thought, “I – I tired to stop them, but I could not have kept up much longer.”

“Hush, sweetheart, don’t think about it anymore. We are both well, and that is all that matters.”

When Legolas and Gimli went to see Aragorn in his chambers a while later, they found the bed empty. Wisely forbearing form raising an alert immediately, they nevertheless, raced down to Faramir’s chambers stopping only when they saw Celion standing in front of the door with a determined expression on his young face. He nodded shyly at them and let them enter before resuming his guard duty.

Legolas shook his head with a sigh at the sight of Aragorn leaning against the pillows on the bed, holding Faramir tenderly in his arms, both men fast asleep.

---

Aragorn recovered completely in two days as did Faramir but for the bruised ribs and immobile shoulder that caused restricted his movements somewhat. Aragorn had been concerned over how Faramir might have felt to be dragged back into Rath Dinen, but the younger man would not speak of it. He, in fact, spoke little of what he had endured while Aragorn had been unconscious, merely relating the reasons Ardamir and Merdil had given for their acts. But Aragorn’s conversations with Merdil and Ardamir themselves, a few days later, in the rooms where each had been placed under arrest, had also given him an inkling of anything else they might have said to Faramir. He did not at all like the idea that they might have taunted the younger man.

He had expected resistance to his claim, and Faramir’s immediate acknowledgement of his heritage, as he had healed him of the black breath had surprised him greatly. Now, that the opposition had come and in such a string manner, he was not sure what to feel. These were old men, who had been in Gondor for many years. Their actions would be tried by the entire ruling council and he knew well that they faced either exile or death, for attempting to murder the King and the Steward. He himself was very angry with them, but he found that the anger was more due to the fact that Faramir would have been harmed too by the whole plan, and of the worry the Steward had endured all these weeks on account of such lies as were perpetrated by the two men.

That night they made love for the first time after the ordeal, slowly and gently, relishing each other’s very presence, and both knew deep inside that whatever might have been said to put down their relationship was mere fallacy, and that the other knew it too.

---

Aragorn smiled as he watched Faramir greet Arwen a few days later. The younger man still wore a sling, and his face still bore faint marks of injury, but he looked well otherwise. He had, a few days earlier, received a sudden and unexpected message from Arwen, that she had cut short her journey to Dol Amroth and would be returning soon. Aragorn was soon to have an heir, as she had discovered. It was news that had been received with great joy all over the City, and the Queen’s arrival was cheered by all. Aragorn and she had spent a few quiet moments together before entering the throne room where a small celebratory lunch had been planned with the lords and ladies and other important dignitaries of the land. He had quietly accepted that Legolas had been correct when he had advised him and Faramir to tone things down in public, yet at the same time he found that others seemed more receptive of his closeness with Faramir. It was now a well- known fact that Faramir had kept Aragorn safe while they were in Ardamir’s clutches, and that very fact seemed to have brought the Steward back into the rest of the Council’s favour. And now Arwen’s open concern for the younger man, and her genuine warmth on seeing him well would go a long way in convincing people that the rumours floating around earlier had been just that.

Watching Arwen smiling and talking to the various dignitaries, even as he listened to the prattle of one of the ladies, he suddenly remembered that Éowyn would be returning from Rohan on the morrow. She had heard of what had happened, but only after Faramir had recovered, much to her chagrin, for he did not want her to worry. She had left for Minas Tirith as soon as she could.

Aragorn looked towards Faramir again, smiling as he noted how fine he looked when he dressed up in court finery. They had the rest of this day, after the lunch, he decided, and excusing himself as politely as possible, he walked in the direction of a small curtained alcove. Catching Faramir’s eye, he nodded discreetly towards the alcove.

Faramir caught the glance, and watched bemusedly as Aragorn slipped out of the celebration. Waiting a few moments, he too moved out discreetly, and slipped through the curtains, into the tiny little room.

Aragorn smiled at him and gently tugged him forward, kissing him lightly on his lips, “In your chambers, after we are rid of all these people,” he said.

Faramir nodded smiling, and Aragorn deepened the kiss before pulling away and slipping out again. When Faramir came out a few moments he ran into Legolas who quirked an eyebrow at the curtains.

“I love him greatly,” he told Legolas quietly.

“I know,” came the equally quiet response.

The celebration left most of the inhabitants of the Citadel feeling lazy and sluggish for the rest of the day, save the two men in the Steward’s room, who had not time for laziness, as they hastily pulled off each other’s clothes., and fell into the soft sheets where they spent the rest of the day undisturbed.

 

The End

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