Faramir Fiction Archive

To Love a King (NC-17)

Written by Minx

05 April 2004 | 32130 words

Chapter 7

Aragorn returned to his room quietly, wishing he could have spent more time with Faramir. He wished he could have held onto his Steward all night, watching him sleep, ensuring no dreams disturbed the much-needed slumber. And he knew he too would have slept better.

But he had assured Faramir that he would display restraint as befitted their current situation. He had no doubt over Faramir's feelings for him. He knew Faramir loved him no matter what. Yet there seemed to be those around who had problems with that, and their actions were hurting the Steward. He wondered if indeed someone might have seen him make love to Faramir, or even spank him over the table. That someone was trying to hurt him, and in the process hurt Faramir was obvious.

And sitting back and watching Faramir get hurt was not something he was prepared to do. They would have to wait for more privacy in the citadel. It would just be a week or so more, he told himself. And then the councillors would be done, and then he would be with Faramir all through the day and the night.

The possible danger that he himself faced he did not worry over. He could take care of himself. He was a warrior.

He spent the night in an uneven fashion, and arose early the next morning to meet with his council again.

---

Faramir rose the next morning from a fitful sleep. He had awoken during the night again not long after Aragorn had left, aware that the King's absence caused an ache in him that no healing herbs could cure. He had tried to get back to sleep, but the peaceful state of slumber that Aragorn's embrace had lulled him into, was no longer attainable. He found himself drifting off his weary mind focussing over and over again on much he wished to forget.

He spent the night dreaming of his brother, of their childhood, the hidden passages, and Aragorn. He was very worried for Aragorn. The King, he knew, might not take the actions attempted upon him seriously. Or rather he might but he would not expect others to do so. Years spent as a ranger in the North tended to condition one into looking after oneself always. Faramir could understand that, it was something he realised all soldiers felt, more so rangers, who often spent much time wandering alone through wild lands. They fought their own battles.

Aragorn had not realised how many people there were willing to take over that job for him. He had found even the assignation of a personal guard superfluous. But then, he was King now, and he had many to fight for him. And many to worry for him too, Faramir being one such.

The younger man had been horrified when he had realised that there had been entrance into his lover's rooms that he had forgotten all about, one that allowed direct access to the King.

Anything could have happened, his mind kept repeating. And anyone might have seen them. Anything could have happened to Aragorn, to his lover.

Sleep eluded him for the most part, coming in fits and starts, as his dazed mind flitted from thoughts of his brother to the thought of Aragorn being harmed.

He wished he could have Aragorn near him so he could protect him.

---

Minardil and Gimli were already in Aragorn’s study when he entered it to pick up some papers. They had the city's plans over a table, and were poring through them minutely.

"Trust Faramir to have found this map as a child," Minardil was saying, referring to the old map from the archives, "That boy spent more time in the libraries than all the other children combined."

"Aragorn," Gimli greeted him noisily, "Lord Minardil and I were thinking of going through the passageways once again."

"Yes, I would like to see if there are any other signs of anyone having used them recently," Minardil acknowledged.

Aragorn agreed. He had realised during the night that one of passages opened into the rooms Faramir used, a thought that bothered him more than a little. He excused his councillor from the morning's meeting, a little envious, for his sharp eyes had not missed the look of relief that crossed the other man's face. Minardil was the chief councillor in charge of military matters, leaving commercial and other aspects to Lord Merdil. They were to discuss the new commercial treaty they had signed with Khand. They had discussed it at length for a week before signing it. Now that it was signed, someone had felt compelled to discuss it all over again, for it had far too many clauses and confused many people.

And they were to discuss the sending of aid to Rohan. Well, he'd have Minardil there for that for sure.

He sighed heavily, to the amusement of the other two, and picking up the required papers, left the room, reminding Gimli to be available for the meeting on the restoration work after the noon meal.

It was a long and tiring day for everyone. Minardil and Gimli combed various passageways all morning, and found nothing of use. The meetings were predictably irritating – the mod ranging from boring to acrimonious.

---

The next few days went by in a rush of councils and debates. Minardil had finally given Aragorn a thorough report on his findings. It was very clear they had recently been in use, but as yet they had no idea who might have used them. He had set investigations in full swing, having handled most of the information flow through normal and espionage channels under Denethor's rule. He had also ensured that the passageways that led outside the citadel were watched by those of his men posted unobtrusively, nearby.

Aragorn and Faramir deliberately avoided each other's company unless required. Neither was too happy about it. But they would not have had the time even if they had wished to meet.

The commercial treaty had hit a snag and Aragorn found himself having to meet various petitions sent by the different guilds and merchants' groups in the city. What time he spent not in councils, he spent placating the traders and producers, explaining the details of the convoluted agreement.

Faramir spent much time with Gimli looking through the reconstruction plans for Ithilien, and then defending them before the Council. When he wasn't doing that, he would go through the old trade agreements Gondor had had with various lands, friends and enemies both, so as to prove to the council that the current treaty with Khand was by no means riddled with errors and detrimental to Gondor's best interests.

---

It was with relief that Aragorn finally sat down in his study with a glass of wine. Much of the work was done, finally. The council meetings were all over, and most of the issues resolved.

They had finally agreed to allow the sending of a small force to aid Rohan against the Orcs on their borders, thereby resolving atleast that issue for the time being. The issues over the new treaty had been resolved to the satisfaction of all parties involved. And just that afternoon, a grumbling group had finally sanctioned the massive outlay that rebuilding Ithilien would require. Officially they would cite their reasoning to be that the revenues that Ithilien would be able to generate once returned to somewhere near its full glory would be generous. But the main driver behind the sanction had been the not so subtle hint from a short-tempered King that given Ithilien's strategic importance, he would approve the spend anyway.

Aragorn sipped the wine slowly as he sorted through some scrolls. He felt almost contented. In a couple of days, all the guests in the citadel would leave and they would have a little more privacy. He thought of Faramir's face and smiled as he remembered the serious faced young man who had sat through the meeting that afternoon, tirelessly defending the plans that Gimli and his people had drawn up, assuring the recalcitrant council of the returns in the form of taxes and duties. The sanction when finally given had brought a small smile to the tired face.

Aragorn shut his eyes briefly, imagining himself showering tiny kisses all over that face. He sighed, opening his eyes. Perhaps they could go riding on the morrow. Just riding, nothing else. But he doubted if he could be with Faramir that long and do nothing else after spending the last few nights alone, deprived of the only company he had desired.

He wanted Faramir. He needed him, as soon as possible. He needed to kiss him, make love to him, to hold him in his arms as he slept. Aragorn stared at the piece of parchment he had picked up absentmindedly. Then he placed it down, making up his mind immediately. He quickly finished his wine, and then purposefully straightened out his rumpled clothes, as he prepared to leave.

---

Faramir walked silently down the long corridor leading to his wing. His eyes lingered momentarily on the tapestries hung upon the walls, depicting various scenes of life in Minas Tirith. There were scenes of people sitting in taverns, of the horses in the stables, of children playing in narrow, winding roads, and even a few of the citadel as seen from the lower levels of the city.

He walked slowly past the pictures he had seen so often in the past, thinking of the work that lay ahead in Ithilien over the next few months. It was a pleasing thought, but the discussions in the afternoon had been tiresome and had left him with a headache as well as protesting muscles in his back from sitting all day long. He felt very tired, and found himself thinking with pleasure of a warm bath and perhaps a glass of wine, a light supper and then bed. The last thought made him gloomy. He did feel drained and wanted no more than to sleep, but he still felt he might get better sleep should he attempt to do so in Aragorn's arms.

He walked on conjuring in his mind the feel of Aragorn's arms around him; those long, sinewy limbs wrapped around his chest, pulling him back to lean against the strong chest, gentle lips hovering over his face, and the soft, sensual voice of his king lulling him into relaxation.

Lost in his thoughts, he failed to realise that there was someone nearby until he felt his arm being grabbed. Before he could even open his mouth however, a hand clamped down on it, even as he was pulled unceremoniously into the entrance to the hidden passage behind the tapestry. He flailed his arms uselessly and tried to kick his legs out, but it was to no avail. His arms were grabbed and a hand snaked around his wait, half-dragging, half carrying him down the narrow space.

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