Faramir Fiction Archive

Waiting on the Moon (PG-13)

Written by Lucky

20 June 2009 | 7836 words

Title: Waiting on the Moon
Author: Getty
Genre: Slash
Characters/Pairing: Faramir/Haldir
Rating: PG13ish
Summary: What if Aragorn had taken the throne earlier?
Warning: none
Permission to archive: Yes by all means
Author’s websites:
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters which is just a sad sad thing as Éowyn and Arwen would have been out saving the day instead of Aragorn and the boys. I’m also sure that Éowyn and Arwen would have gotten the ring destroyed much sooner too!!

Written for the 2009 Midsummer Swap.

Request by Vanwa Hravani: Strong, turbulent Faramir with either Aragorn, a Lórien brother, or a twin; Faramir is complex – needy and haunted at times, perhaps, but darkly brilliant and has agency. Faramir has to meet a challenge (military, political, intrigue, ?) and does so in an unusual way. Think of it this way: he has been shaped (and perhaps twisted) by his life experience, but certainly not broken.

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Chapter 1

Boromir worries when arguments erupt between his father and brother. But he worries even more when the angry words become silence and he can no longer hear the incensed recriminations between Denethor, Steward of Gondor and his younger brother Faramir, second in line to the throne of Gondor behind Boromir himself.

But the title of Steward is a title only, Gondor has had a King for many years now. Aragorn, as Boromir knows him in private, is a good friend. Estel as the people of Gondor know him, is a fair and righteous King. He is beloved by all his people and Boromir serves him gladly. But there is one for whom the name of the king holds no pleasure. Denethor, the last steward of Gondor, and the man who had to relinquish the crown when Aragorn staked, and then proved his claim to the throne of Gondor.

Denethor holds no love at all for the King and Boromir is relieved that the walls cannot talk, for Estel the King would have him executed if some of Denethor’s mutterings were ever heard. But the few servants who have heard, other than Boromir and Faramir, show stony discretion, a fact for which Boromir is grateful.

When Boromir was younger his father had waged a never ending war of hissing imprecations trying and failing to turn Boromir against his King. Now Boromir fears that the war his father once waged with him he has passed to Faramir.

The door to his father’s private chambers slams open and Faramir comes striding out. Boromir pretends that he has just come in from the other direction.

“Ah brother, there you are.”

Faramir ticks a glance at Boromir but does not break his stride, “What is it you need brother?”

Boromir turns and matches Faramir’s steps as they head out of Denethor’s private area and into the area reserved for both Faramir and himself.

“Some of the spring foals have arrived and Estel has said that we may take our pick.” It was the first thing that came to mind but Faramir appeared deep in thought and he said nothing in reply.

Boromir risked a glance at Faramir. Tired. There was no other word for it. Faramir looked worn out, but it was a fatigue that only touched his body. On rare unguarded moments Boromir would catch a wild fierceness in his brother’s eyes, and it was obvious that whatever had affected his brother’s body had not touched his mind.

They entered their quarters and Faramir slammed the door behind them with an oath, “Old Bastard.”

There is only one ‘old bastard’ and here in the safety of their rooms it is the only name by which Denethor is ever mentioned. Boromir reaches out but Faramir quick-steps away.

“Don’t touch me.”

Three simple words and Boromir feels his heart shatter. He goes over and pours himself a drink, anything to keep his hands to himself and away from Faramir.

“He cannot let it go.” Faramir yanks his over-tunic off and flings it against the far wall. “On and on he goes, nagging like an old woman.”

He whips around and Boromir takes a step back, that undeniable ferocity is in Faramir’s eyes again and in that unguarded moment Boromir sees a man inside his brother that he does not recognize. It saddens him greatly that Denethor’s machinations have unleashed such a monster in his younger son.

Faramir sits down, first one boot then the other hit the far wall, landing atop the tunic that Faramir has already thrown there.

Boromir says nothing as it is in these first moments after Denethor and Faramir have had a row that Faramir is most volatile and Boromir is a handy target. Faramir seeing him as an extension of Denethor, a place to vent his anger safely.

Once and only once has Faramir ever swung on him after having a confrontation with Denethor. The first blow landed (Boromir considered himself lucky that he only lost one tooth) but Boromir was prepared for the second one and he caught Faramir in his arms, holding him close, letting Faramir wear himself out. The struggles and cursing eventually gave way to tears and they stayed that way for a time as Faramir cried his anger and pain into Boromir’s tunic.

Of what Denethor and Faramir had been fighting that day Boromir would only learn bits and pieces for Faramir has learned the art of secrecy at their father’s knees and he mainly speaks obliquely when questioned by Boromir. Since that time he has also refused any attempts on Boromir’s part to offer comfort either by a brotherly hug or a clasp of understanding on the shoulder. Boromir is a good son, he is also a good brother and not for the first time he has wondered if it would be better to slip a knife quickly between his father’s ribs stilling that black heart and freeing his brother from Denethor’s torment than watch Faramir’s slow calculated destruction at their father’s hands.

Faramir’s breathing has evened out some and Boromir knows it is safe to talk to him once again. He pours a flagon of watered down wine and sets it down in front of Faramir before taking a seat himself.

Faramir drinks several long draughts before setting the flagon down, he gives Boromir a sad smile. “Some men we are, eh brother?”

Boromir tears himself a chunk of bread from the ever present platter of provisions in their common room before sliding the rest of it over to Faramir.

“What was it about this time?” Boromir is careful not to appear too interested for Faramir will stalk away from the table if he thinks Boromir is being too nosey.

“The king, the king, and then more about the damned king.” Faramir takes a piece of bread and stuffs it in his mouth. Thoughtfully he chews for a moment. “Do you remember what it was like before Estel took the throne?”

Boromir pulls the bread towards him and pulls off another hunk. There is a sad wistfulness to Faramir’s question. He takes another sip of wine and tries to recall that fabled Gondor of long ago when Denethor was all but King , before their mother left, before their father changed.

Finally he shook his head, “We were so young when Estel took the throne and I have no specific memories. Sometimes the smell of lilacs makes me think of our mother. But all else from those days comes from the memories of others.” He chances a glance at Faramir. No longer does his brother seem remote, dangerous. Now he just sees Faramir and he knows that he can risk a few more questions.

“Why do you ask?”

“That old bastard!” Faramir flares. “It’s all he can talk about.” Faramir’s eyes take on the unfocused stare of one who is searching within himself. He gives a harsh bark of laughter. “The fair city of Gondor, where Denethor ruled wisely. Loved by all,” Faramir spits the words out. “We were the son’s of Gondor and this kingdom should have been ours.”

Boromir stills, he knows now where this conversation is going for years ago he too had the same argument with Denethor, he closes his eyes afraid of what he might see on his brothers face when next Faramir speaks.

Draining the last of his wine, Faramir slams the flagon down on the table and then stands, from on high his voice floats down to Boromir.

“He says it would be better if the king were no longer here.”

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