Faramir Fiction Archive

To Love a King (NC-17)

Written by Minx

05 April 2004 | 32130 words

Chapter 6

Faramir’s words brought them to a sudden halt. Minardil was the first to move forward. He promptly went to Faramir’s side, stared at the shelf, then at Faramir and raised an eyebrow. The others trooped in curiously watching the two men.

“I remember hearing about -,” Minardil’s voice trailed off and his face contorted into a frown as he too started at the shelf.

“They have not been in use for so very long, I fear everyone has forgotten about them altogether,” Faramir said mystically, “Boromir and I found of them by accident. There was little need for them in all these years. I should have remembered earlier,” he said remorsefully.

“Remembered what?” Legolas interposed in his soft voice after his questioning glance drew blank looks from both Aragorn and Gimli. But his question went unheeded.

“I never realised -,” Minardil said in a shocked voice, “To think – Oh Eru! How could I have been so careless!”

“It is not your fault,” Faramir said earnestly, “It’s my error entirely. I knew and I forgot. And to think I have used them. I am such a fool!” he spat out bitterly.

That was as far that the other three of the occupants of the room were willing to let their more knowledgeable friends go.

“Faramir! Minardil!” Aragorn said sharply, causing the two worried men to turn and stare at them in confusion.

“What do you speak of?” Legolas urged, “We do not understand.”

But Faramir, rather maddeningly chose not to answer immediately. He looked towards Gimli, “You have the old plans of the Citadel for the restoration, Master Dwarf? The ones that the archivists found in the library last month?”

“They are here, in Aragorn study, along with the plans for the new housing settlements south of Emyn Arnen,” Gimli responded after a confused pause. He waved towards a jumble of parchments and scrolls lying on a small round table in a corner of the room.

The Citadel having survived the war relatively unharmed was accorded the last priority in rebuilding efforts. The houses in the lower levels had been worse affected, and the people dwelling there more numerous so those had been seen to first, so that it was only now, after so many months that anyone had thought to consider whether the King’s and sometimes the steward’s residence needed renovating or not.

Faramir promptly walked over and rifled through the papers, speaking all the while over his shoulder, “Passages. They would not be in the new ones you used earlier, of course. But I am sure they are there in the old maps. That is how Boromir and I know of them.”

Turning around he released the other three had still not comprehended what he was saying.

“Passages,” he repeated in a clear voice, “There are hidden passages running all through the Citadel. One opens into this room, behind the panelling between the cupboard and the fireplace.”

That was very clear. He was greeted with a chorus of voices, three surprised ones, and Minardil’s gravely voice, corroborating what he’d stated.

“Why was I not told of this earlier?” that was Aragorn.

“Where do they lead?” Gimli sounded very interested, “I did wonder about the thickness of some of the walls. I should have realised it sooner!” He began to examine the panelling minutely, “How does it open?”

“Why are they no longer in use?” Legolas asked.

Faramir answered as patiently as he could once the others had quietened after realising they were all speaking at the same time.

“Forgive me, Aragorn,” he turned remorsefully to his King, “I am sorry to say that I had completely forgotten of their existence until today,”

He fished out a few large parchments and handed them to Aragorn, before walking over to where Gimli stood.

“As had I, and almost everyone else, I expect,” Minardil added, “Although I am surprised to hear you know of them, Faramir.”

“I have used them a few times,” the younger man replied smiling suddenly.

“You have?” Aragorn looked up from the papers startled.

“Yes, they also opened into my rooms as well as Boromir’s. Once we had found them, I never had to worry about being sent to bed without supper,” Faramir grinned at the memory.

He removed a few books from the third shelf, and reaching into the back, ran his fingers over the wood, until he found the tiny crack. Prising it loose, he found the little opening that contained the lever to open the passage. He tugged at the piece of metal, hoping it had not rusted over the years. The movement was smooth, overly so.

Gimli, still examining the panelling nearly fell over when it suddenly gave way under the light pressure and a long narrow panel swung open to reveal a dark enclosure.

The others watched surprised. Faramir glanced into it and nodded, “Here it is,” he said, “And the lever has been used of late. I am sure this is how the entry was effected.”

“We need to explore this,” Gimli said firmly.

“Right now?” Aragorn asked, cocking an eyebrow upward.

“Yes,” Minardil and Faramir said simultaneously.

“We need to confirm whether someone is using this passage to enter your room, Sire,” Minardil explained.

“We shall need torches,” Gimli said.

“I’ll go get them from the stores. I would not like anyone else to know of this,” Minardil said.

The others clustered around the opening, examining the shelf and the lever that worked it, it’s smooth movement indicating very recent usage. Gimli asked Aragorn for the plans intending to study them.

“If we must explore, we must,” Legolas muttered, “But I do not like places such as this, dark and enclosed! How did you forget about this Faramir?” he asked curiously.

Aragorn looked toward him for an answer to. He shrugged.

“We stopped using them after Boromir left for his command in Osgiliath. He came home but once in few months. It was to remain our secret for Father would have been annoyed if he knew we had broken so many rules, so I could tell no one else. Then I left for Ithilien, and well, I too share your dislike for such places now.”

“Now?” Gimli interposed suddenly, but Aragorn knowing the reason behind that was linked to Faramir’s first and rather painful encounter with Orcs promptly cut in.

“Are they no longer in use at all? Who else knows of these?”

“They were built years earlier, perhaps even as the Citadel itself was first built for escape routes naturally. But their use has not been necessitated for a long time. The city’s defences have always stayed. Who knows of them I cannot say. The older people may remember hearing about them, as Minardil did, for there is mention in one of the histories.”

“But these plans have them marked clearly,” Gimli spoke up.

“The maps are not from the general archive,” Faramir replied, referring to the libraries, “They were from a restricted archive that none enters without leave from the King or the Steward.”

“Is that how you found them as a child?” Aragorn asked suddenly struck by a picture of a very young Faramir poring over the vast books in the archive, earnestly reading and making notes. He almost smiled, but he also found himself picturing a very young Faramir sitting hungry in his chamber until his brother could sneak something in for him.

Faramir nodded, “I was to help Mithranidr do some research during one of his visits. I managed to copy out the map over those days, so we could explore at leisure later.”

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at that, while Gimli and Legolas smiled.

“It seemed fun,” Faramir said defensively.

“Where is the map you drew?” Gimli asked.

“Oh, we memorised it and burnt it. We could not risk Father finding it. We’d already broken enough rules you see.”

Minardil entered then carrying two unlit torches stashed under a bundle of mail and armour. Discarding the other times he handed one torch to Gimli and kept the other. They lit them on the small fire in the grate, and then stared at each other before nodding and stepping into the passage. They were all too curious for any to want to stay back, even Legolas and Faramir.

Their dinner lay forgotten on the table, already cold, as they all set forth, closing the door carefully behind them unwilling for anyone to find out what they had discovered.

The passage was narrow but long and high. It wound between stone walls, following the path of the citadel’s structure. It was dark and they had to tread carefully although they planned only to cover a short distance just to see if they could make out which parts were in use. It was fairly airy for there were many hidden vents to allow air in, even if the light stayed out.

Minardil or Faramir stopped every now and then to point out a particular room they might be behind. In such places, levers held the door closed, and more than one was found in a condition that indicated recent usage. None however opened out to particular rooms. There were peepholes too. They were very tiny but quite effective, fitted to coincide with carvings on the panels inside the rooms and could be opened and closed from the passage.

At one place, no more than twenty paces from Aragorn’s room, the passage branched out.

“That goes to the section near the wall,” Faramir said, “And then under it to open outside.”

“Where?” asked Gimli.

“This one I think opens in the gardens of healing,” Faramir mused, “there is a little stone structure there.”

“There are others?”

“Yes, one on this level itself in the building outside the Citadel gates, one on the other side of the sixth level in a section of the wall, and one in Rath Dinen through a shallow dry tank.”

They followed the other branch a short distance, noticing all the while signs of an intruder’s presence. Faramir stopped suddenly and the others saw he was glancing through a peephole.

“Your chambers,” Minardil said quietly.

Faramir nodded grimly, “The lever has been used recently.”

He looked a little pale and tired, Aragorn thought, realising that the younger man would have had little sleep the night before, after their episode across the table. And the stifling atmosphere of these musty passages was beginning to get to him. He had stayed very close to Aragorn all through their walk. The King turned to Legolas who held one of the torches now, and noticed he too looked distinctly unhappy.

“We should return now,” he declared, “And explore further later. I think I should see the plans carefully first.”

“You are right,” Minardil agreed, “And it is not safe for you to remain here longer. Whoever is using these passages must not know you have found them.”

“What rules did you break?” Aragorn asked Faramir suddenly, as they walked back, trying to break his pensive mood.

It took Faramir a minute to understand what he spoke of. He shrugged, “I took the map out of the archive to show Boromir, without permission. And then of course, every time either of us was punished we took the other food anyway.”

Aragorn nodded quietly in the dark.

They returned to Aragorn’s room, and stopping to examine the vicinity, clearly noting the scratches on the wooden door where it had been scraped open after years, and the disturbance in the layer of dust on the floors. Faramir examined the eyehole into it. It lay near the door, on a pattern of carving near the grate, and gave a small gasp audible only to Aragorn who stood next to him.

“What is it?” Aragorn whispered watching the others open the door.

“I can see the table,” Faramir said turning around and sagging slightly against the wall.

“And?” Aragorn asked puzzled.

“And there is one in your chambers too, right over the bed. And one in mine too.”

Aragorn stared uncomprehending at him.

“Aragorn, what if someone saw us? And last night, over your table, -“ he gulped a little. He was pale and sweating a little now.

Aragorn didn’t answer. He simply grasped Faramir’s hand and pulled him out through the open door behind the others and pushed him into a chair, letting him regain his composure, while Gimli and Minardil discussed the find.

Legolas had helped himself to a glass of wine, and now he filled another and brought it to Faramir handing it over silently, getting a surprised yet grateful look in return. Aragorn threw him a thankful nod too.

The wine calmed Faramir a bit. He was irritated with his reaction. He was glad they had turned back, unsure whether he could have negotiated the enclosed space much longer. His mind kept harking back to the ordeal he had been put through in of the deep caves in Ithilien by Orcs during his first patrol. Aragorn had helped him get over that but the memory still unnerved him. He really needed to get over it, he told himself, angrily. He had purposely kept up a commentary of the rooms they passed as a distraction, but then the sudden intake of the fact that he and Aragorn might have been observed making love brought his worries back on.

And he kept getting struck by memories of his brother now and the way they had explored these ways. Boromir had commanded the party that had rescued his patrol from the Orcs, barging through the cave just as he often barged through the hidden door in his room laden with food, and on one occasion a large load of books. Denethor had forbidden him from reading anything for a week in a fit of anger, over his performance at sword practice.

He shook of the memories and straightened himself. Aragorn’s hand rested on his shoulder, a strong, reassuring touch. He looked up and met the equally reassuring eyes, and nodded unhappily, then they joined Gimli and Minardil in their conversation.

“You’re not safe here,” Minardil told his King promptly.

“But if he moves now, it is too suspicious,” Faramir protested, “We have to catch these people.”

“And we cannot do that if they realise we have discovered one of their secrets,” Legolas said.

Aragorn said nothing, waiting for his friends to thrash it out.

“But he is in danger this way,” Minardil protested.

“You have to block the passage,” Gimli said.

“Then it’s obvious he knows of the passage!” Legolas pointed out.

“No, not deliberately block it,” The Dwarf said exasperatedly, “Do it in error.”

“Shift the large chair to get more space near the window, perhaps,” Faramir suggested.

“Yes! And something similar to all the doorways, while Lord Minardil here starts his investigations.”

There was little objectionable to that so Aragorn forbore from saying anything. He did however; bring an end to the discussion claiming tiredness and hunger. They moved the chair and then had a hurried meal of cold soup and breads and cold meat before all retired for the night. Legolas even extracted an assurance from Aragorn that he would not take it into his head to wander through the secret passages later in the night.

Faramir left the last, a few minutes after the others, for he had been gathering up some paperwork from Aragorn’s desk.

They exchanged a brief kiss.

“I wish I had not promised Legolas,” Aragorn mused, “I quite like the idea of a secret passage leading to your room. It saves us trouble. Worry not, sweetheart. All will be fine.”

“I worry for your safety,” Faramir whispered, “Anything could have happened.”

“But nothing did. Sleep well, dear heart. You look tired. We shall save our nocturnal trysts for quieter times, much as I hate to do so! ” He wished it were otherwise. He wanted greatly to be with Faramir that night, not as much for making love to him, but to offer him comfort for it was obvious the younger man was worn out.

It was a while after Faramir had left for his chambers that Aragorn while perusing revenue estimates, found that his lover had left behind his gloves. He did not need a second excuse. Faramir would need those gauntlets in the morning. They were a worn pair, but he wore no other, for these had been presented to him by his brother when he received his captaincy of the Rangers. Although the night was yet young, Faramir would probably be asleep, but all he wanted to do was look at him awhile. He wanted to assure himself that the worry and sadness he had seen on that beloved face had been smoothed away.

Knowing that one of his guards would accompany him at Minardil’s orders, he grabbed some papers too.

The moment he stepped out, Celion of his guard followed right at his heels, albeit apologetically. He shook his head smiling and talked to the young man, asking after his family. The soldier replied blushingly, the awe he held Aragorn in very apparent.

They entered the wing where Faramir’s room was and Aragorn was relieved to note Celion had no untoward reaction to that. He frowned seeing a sliver of light under the door to the small anteroom his Steward used a study.

“I will be a while with the Steward, Celion,” he said, waving the papers with one hand as he knocked on the door, with the other, “You may leave if you wish.”

The soldier shook his head, and still blushing furiously said, “I –I - my orders, Lord. I must wait for you.”

Aragorn sighed. The door opened to reveal Faramir, still fully clothed, his hair tousled, and yes a little bleary.

“Aragorn!” he exclaimed, and then noticed Celion down the passage and gave vent to a relieved sound. He let his king in and shut the door behind him, as Aragorn placed the gauntlets and the papers on his table.

“I needed some doubts cleared before the council,” Aragorn said and then held his arms out and pulled Faramir into his embrace.

The Steward rested his head against his King’s chest, and closed his eyes, as the strong hands wrapped around his slim waist and held him tight.

“You should not be here,” he murmured softly, but made no effort to pull away.

“You should not still be awake.”

“I could not sleep,” Faramir admitted, running his fingers absentmindedly over the embroidered pattern on Aragorn robes.

Aragorn gently led him through a connecting door to his bedchamber and they both sat down on the soft bed, Faramir remaining in the warm embrace all along. He held him close, letting his tired Steward rest against him. He could see a chest of drawers had been moved and a faded tapestry hung on the wall over it.

“What troubles you tonight?” he asked softly, unsure what might have caused the unhappiness he could sense in his young lover.

“‘Tis naught,” Faramir murmured.

“Do you remember those Orcs still?”

“No,” Faramir said surprised, “I did awhile in the passage, but I am well now. It is an ld matter and I have faced worse than that.”

That Aragorn whole-heartedly agreed with.

“The eyehole?”

“I probably worried for nothing,” Faramir tried to sound dismissive but failed miserably.

“No. I should be more careful in future,” Aragorn frowned, unwilling to face up to the fact that Faramir’s fear could be real. That someone may have seen them make love earlier, or Eru forbid, the last night, when he had spanked the younger man, in such a foolish manner.

“No –“ Faramir began, but was stopped by a fleeting kiss.

“And you remember Boromir?” Aragorn asked him gently.

Faramir sighed, and burrowed his head lower, “I miss him so much.”

“I know love, I know.”

“I must return soon,” Aragorn whispered, after a small pause, “Let me hold you till then. You give me the most comforting feel ever.”

“You said you had doubts to be cleared,” his Steward came right back to business.

“Yes, I doubted if you were sleeping, and I doubted you had another pair of gauntlets for the morrow. Rest now. You’re tired,” he scolded and ruffled the dark hair, all the while holding him gladly.

“You’re so good to me,” Faramir mumbled.

Aragorn hugged him tight at the words. He was still angry with himself for hauling Faramir over the table. He had no doubt it had featured in Denethor’s punishments to his younger son that seemed far more frequent than those to the elder son. But he knew the two brothers had been good friends too. He was sure Faramir was as depressed over Boromir this night as he might be over the possibility that their relationship might be openly obvious to someone else.

He should leave soon, he knew.

But it just felt right holding his young lover. He could still remember the first time they had made love, in this same bed. Faramir under him, pliant and trusting.

At first, right after the coronation, Faramir had been always polite and formal, keeping his distance from the King, under the impression that that was as Aragorn wished, even though he was always there to aid and support the King, working hard through those busy months when all their efforts were concentrated on restoring Gondor to normalcy. He had seen the princedom and the retention of the Stewardship, as concessions by a king to his Arandur, his servant. He even saw Aragorn’s request to call him by name in the same light.

It had taken both of them a while to acknowledge their feelings, and more still to act on them. They had not looked back after that.

“I love you,” he said softly as he gently rubbed Faramir’s back a while. There was no response from the Steward. Looking down, Aragorn realised the younger man was fast asleep now, his head dipping against Aragorn’s chest, his hands resting limply against him. He sighed silently at the sight, and carefully lowered Faramir onto the bed on his back and pushed a pillow under his head. He straightened out the thick bedclothes, and wrapped them around the sleeping man. After ensuring that he would be warm, he leant over Faramir and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

Faramir murmured something in response but stayed asleep, his dark hair splayed over the white pillows.

Aragorn returned to his room, Celion still at his heels.

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