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.

---

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.”

Chapter 2

Faramir feels Boromir’s eyes on him constantly during the many days trip it takes to reach Lothlorien from Gondor. Estel and the Queen take this trip yearly. It’s a chance for her to reconnect with her family and Estel to reinforce the ties between Gondor and Lothlorian that would keep both of their borders safe.

Boromir always rides along, eyes open for possible danger. For the past 5 years now Faramir has taken Denethor’s place. Denethor has claimed that the long trip leaves him sore and weary for many days. But Faramir knows that to be a lie. For in the past 5 years Denethor has waged a war against Faramir, trying to incite enough wrath in him so that he might take up arms and kill Estel. Political intrigue is nothing new to Faramir, or to Boromir for that matter. All royal families face constant plotting both from other lineages or the common people themselves.

His father likes to circle around him, like a hawk eyeing a tasty mouse from on high. “You are a good son.” And Faramir finds himself frozen to the spot as Denethor trails one finger across his shoulders. His father’s touch is ice cold, no matter the time of year, and now his father will lean in as if Faramir were a lover and not his child.

His breath is warmly obscene against Faramir’s ear. “Don’t you love me?”

In the beginning Faramir did love Denethor and wanted desperately to please him. But there is always a price for his father’s affection and as he has gotten older he has come to despise the man he has become at Denethor’s hands.

“Kill the king and I will put you on the throne.”

The first time Denethor had purred such words in his ears Faramir had yanked away, intending to leave the family’s private quarters and inform the king immediately. But there was a deceptive strength in Denethor and he pinned Faramir against the wall.

“Come boy, you know you want the throne.”

He leaned close and ran one hand through Faramir’s hair. “I couldn’t ask for a better son.”

Faramir was panting, his breath harsh, and he felt heat far below.

His father moved even closer so that now he had one leg between Faramir’s. This is how lovers would stand, not father and son. But Denethor was a master at manipulation and Faramir was trapped like a fly in amber.

“With you on the throne and me as your advisor we can guide Gondor once again into her full regal majesty and none shall dare threaten us again.” Denethor had all but purred those words, a cat facing a saucer full of cream.

It took two false starts but Faramir finally found his voice. “What of Boromir?”

Denethor brushed a hand across the front of Faramir’s tunic; his voice came out deceptively mild. “Your brother is a sword to be wielded until he is blunt. He is the instrument by which I will name you Steward to Gondor.”

Horrified, Faramir pushed his father away. That family could be used so callously, both his mind and his stomach churned. He made it two steps before falling to one knee, vomiting as he did so.

That was nigh on 3 years ago and since then the fights between Faramir and Denethor have become far more subtle, dangerous. Time and time again Faramir finds himself on the edge of blurting out the truth to Boromir. One time coming perilously close. To cover that blunder he’d taken a swing at Boromir, fully expecting his brother to retaliate in kind, perhaps beat him into oblivion and forgetfulness. But Boromir had gotten both arms around him, held him close, shielding him as best he could from fears that Faramir could not give voice to.

But all that is three days behind him now, three days down and four more till they reach Lothlorien. With each clop of a horse hoof Faramir finds his heart growing lighter. It will be nice to be among friends again. Five years ago Faramir made his first trip to the elven wood and it was there that he met the one person he has always considered to be a friend. Haldir, Captain of the Guard to the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn.

All of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel’s retinue had been there to receive the King and Queen of Gondor on the first day of their arrival. Faramir had been quite taken aback by the beauty of the elven beings he had seen before him. Perhaps because he was used to Queen Arwen he had never felt inferior. But these tall, willowy men and women all proudly arrayed in the colors of forest green, russet brown, fiery red, their hair, that glorious shade of autumn gold. Beside them Faramir had felt plain, drab.

But out of all these there was one to whom Faramir felt his eyes constantly drawn. Tall and fair of face, this elf radiated a calm self assurance. Twice he had leaned in to say a brief word to Lord Celeborn. There was something about him that even now, five years later, Faramir still could not pin down, something that told Faramir he would be safe having this elf as his friend.

They had met quite by accident, literally, two days later. Faramir was descending the last stair from the flet where he and Boromir had been stationed during their stay at Lothlorien, he had rounded the tree trunk and smacked into that same elf who was rounding the tree from the opposite direction.

“I’m… s-sorry.” Faramir had managed to stammer out.

“It’s not often a human sneaks up on an elf,” came the amused reply.

“I wasn’t sneaking, my brother, he… we’re… I…” Faramir subsided into silence.

Faramir had glimpsed up at that moment and was startled by the kindness he saw in the blue eyes of this elf. There was a deeper look that Faramir recognized from his brother Boromir as one who has seen both battle and death also.

Tentatively, he smiled. “I’m Faramir, son of the Steward of Gondor.”

“I am Haldir, Captain of the Guard.”

With those simple words of introduction a most unlikely friendship was forged.

Time flows differently inside the borders of Lothlorien, and later Faramir could never really be sure how much time he spent there in the Golden Wood. It seemed to flow fast enough when he had time to spend with Haldir. Sometimes Boromir also came along, but mostly it was just Haldir and himself. They roamed about from tree lined glade to mossy river bank, Haldir sharing the lore of his people, listening intently when Faramir recounted Gondor’s most glorious days of yore. For the first time he could ever recall Faramir experienced something he had never felt before, Faramir felt accepted for being who he really was and his heart beat faster whenever he spent time with Haldir.

On their last night in Lothlorien there was a grand banquet given in honor of Gondor’s King and Queen. Nothing had been spared. There were tables piled high with honeyed sweets, cheeses, venison and the special golden wine that only came from the vines in Lothlorien. There was song and laughter, stories were passed about and ties were once again reaffirmed between Gondor and Lothlorien.

The evening grew late and Faramir had yet to see any sign of Haldir. Worried that he might leave without being able to tell his friend goodbye, Faramir slipped from the great hall. Ghost-like he slipped from shadow to shade, blending with the night, but every place he checked, no Haldir.

The moon was reaching its apex as he topped the hill. Full and round, it bathed the world below it in a silvery glow and there, sitting before him, was his friend.

Haldir turned at his approach, “Ah, Faramir. You found me.”

There was a wistfulness in his voice that Faramir had never heard before and he halted a few steps away.

“You weren’t at the banquet, I had hoped to see you one last… time.” Faramir’s voice grew soft and he had to swallow before he could continue. “Did you not wish to be found?”

Haldir looked back at Faramir for a moment before returning his attention to the moon.

“Every full moon I come here.” He indicated with one hand for Faramir to come sit beside him.

“Why?”

“I’m waiting.”

Faramir had never seen Haldir this pensive before and it frightened him a bit. But there was no quaver in his voice, “For what?”

Softly Haldir began to chant, “Love is revealed, when the moon glows, time cannot dim it, like the death of the rose, the moon is the key, the moon knows.”

Faramir shot a startled look at Haldir, but all words were lost when Haldir took him in his arms, laid him back upon the soft grass and kissed him.

Heat surged through Faramir and, novice that he was to the art of passion, truth be known it was the first time he had ever been kissed. But Boromir used to say that some things you had to experience to learn and Faramir understood that saying for the first time.

Haldir had been gentle, kind and for the first time in his life Faramir had finally felt alive. Afterwards he’d laid there with Haldir, looking up at the night sky. He felt no guilt, no shame; Haldir had wanted nothing from him other than the pleasure of his company. But soon he would be departing back to Gondor and this lovely time would have to end.

The moon had finished its zenith across the night sky when Faramir began gathering his clothes up. Quickly he dressed against the morning chill.

Boromir had also never alluded to what one should say after a romantic encounter but Faramir was astute enough to know that “thanks” probably wouldn’t cut it either. Casting about he finally said the first innocuous thing that came to mind, “you never did tell me what you were waiting for.”

“Legend states that one who seeks their true love place a petition to the Goddess of the Moon.” Haldir stood and took Faramir into his arms, “I petitioned the Goddess and you arrived.” He placed a chaste kiss upon Faramir’s lips, “you are the one I have been waiting for.”

Startled Faramir replied, “I can’t… it’s..it’s not that simple.”

Haldir smiled, “it’s never simple. But we are destined to be together.”

Faramir pulled away, “you don’t understand and I can’t explain, but there are far greater stakes here than your feelings for me.”

Haldir’s face turned serious but before he could say anything Faramir had stepped out of reach, “or my feelings for you. I’m sorry.”

Faramir turned and walked away, he didn’t know how to tell Haldir the truth. Faramir’s destiny was to kill the King and help Boromir ascend the throne and in doing so to bring about his own demise. Death from the hangman’s noose was the only allowable outcome for the path that Faramir had put himself on.

Chapter 3

One night away from Lothlórien and Faramir’s thoughts ever turn inwards toward Haldir. Since that single night of passion shared upon the hill Haldir has not spurned him, indeed he has courted him. Faramir is glad for the dark as he stands guard that none may see the blush upon his face when he thinks of his lover. Being courted, having a lover, words Faramir never thought to apply to himself. Yet that is what Haldir has done. When the courier arrives from Lothlórien it is rare that there is not some letter from Haldir. Though duty has called Haldir to other borders he has always taken the time to send something, even if it is a brief note, reminding Faramir that there is one to whom he is very special.

Denethor is aware of the letters almost from the beginning and Faramir has been forced to burn these missives after reading them. He is afraid that were Denethor to find out the truth, he would find a way to use Haldir against him.

The arguments between Denethor and himself are always most fierce after a letter has arrived. His father will trail a cold hand down his spine. “Come boy, there should be no secrets between father and son.”

Oddly enough these are the times that Faramir finds his backbone. Haldir’s words have opened a secret resource of strength and Faramir shoves his father away.

‘Tis none of your business, old man.”

Shrewdly Denethor eyes him for a moment. “None can do for you what I can do.”

Faramir relents, just a fraction. “Letters from a friend. Nothing more.”

“Royalty does not have friends,” Denethor scoffed.

But there is a dark gleam in Denethor’s eyes that Faramir does not trust, and since that time he has made alternate arrangements with the courier so that Denethor will be unable to pry further. But he still feeds each letter to the fire after reading it just to be on the safe side.

But no matter the content of each letter and no matter how Faramir replies, he is on a path set by his father. And while he wants badly to trust Haldir enough to tell him of his father’s manipulations, he is more worried that he will not be believed. Learned though he is at letters, there are no words he can think of to give vent to his worries and his feelings of uselessness after each confrontation and so he says nothing.

This will be Faramir’s last time to Lothlórien; he has set events into motion that will forever change his life. Certainly he will assassinate the King but by the time Boromir returns to Gondor, Denethor will be dead. As for himself, Faramir knows he will die for his actions against the King. But it seems a small price to pay to see the Steward’s line back on the throne and Boromir free of his father’s manipulations.

Faramir finishes his watch without incident. Even as he settles down to sleep all he can think of is the last time he will see Haldir and the tears he has kept close, never shedding once through all these years of difficulties at his father’s hands, flow freely and silently into his bedroll.

The next week is one of the best Faramir has ever experienced. He finds the thoughts of his impending death to be oddly liberating and it is he who seeks Haldir out at every free moment he has. From tree- lined glade to mossy river bank he gives all of himself to Haldir. His lover tries to question where this change has come from but Faramir kisses the questions away. Whispering his love over and over into a delicate ear or showing his love through selfless acts of pleasure. When they are finished and Haldir lays beside him, worn out from exertion, Faramir will allow himself to be pulled close. He cannot speak, for he does not know what to say. But Haldir knows that something is amiss for never has Faramir ever hinted of such longings before.

Gently Haldir smoothes the hair away from Faramir’s face. “Tell me what it is that the moon knows that I do not.”

Faramir takes Haldir’s hand in his own and begins kissing the palm. “There is nothing to tell.”

Enough of the week has gone by that Haldir knows the bloom of first coupling should have passed. But each time Faramir seeks him out there is a desperate urgency to his lovemaking and Haldir, who has never known other than a brief twinge of fear, is scared for the first time in his long life. His lover harbors secrets, he can feel the dark tales of despair that ride upon Faramir’s touch. But each time he proposes to ask, Faramir steals the words away with a whisper soft stroke of his hand, with the gentle suckling of his mouth. He parts his legs and invites Haldir into the one place where none have gone before. There is exquisite heat, velvet softness, and when Haldir hits the spot deep within Faramir all rational thought flees from Haldir’s mind save that of bringing pleasure to the man beneath him.

Panting as though he has run a great distance, Haldir falls back onto the bed. Faramir has done things to him this evening that Haldir has only heard whispers of and then a few more things that he has never encountered before.

Faramir flops down on the bed, worn to the bone. This is his last night to be alive and he wants to be sure that Haldir never forgets him. He doesn’t know why this is so important to him, being remembered for being in love is better than the memories of his actions that history will impose on him after this night he supposes.

Haldir reaches out and pulls Faramir close. Beneath his hand he can feel the tremors that run through his lover’s body. He goes to speak but before he can say anything Faramir raises up on one arm.

“Promise me that you will never forget me.”

Haldir has to hold back a laugh when he sees the look in Faramir’s eyes. This is no idle lover’s game, Faramir is deadly serious.

He turns Faramir away so that he may spoon his body close. He feels Faramir shaking and grabs a blanket pulling it up so that they are both covered. Faramir presses back into him but this isn’t about heat, it’s about comfort.

Haldir runs his hand over Faramir trying to find the one place to best offer solace through touch.

“What is wrong my love?”

Faramir gives a quick look over his shoulder before laying his head back down, “I… nothing, it’s… I have never been in love before.” The words come out sounding trite but there is truth to them and Faramir prays that Haldir will not look deeper for any meaning to his actions.

Haldir presses a kiss onto Faramir’s shoulder. “We have a very long time, there is no need for worry.”

Anything he says in reply will be a lie so Faramir holds his tongue. But he lays there in the safe haven of Haldir’s arms, knowing this is the last time he will ever be loved again and wanting so badly for it to never end. But each moment he waits he knows the parting will be even more difficult.

He listens as Haldir’s breathing changes to the slow easy cadence of reverie. Carefully he slips out of bed, dressing quickly in the half light of the moon. He pauses once at the door; looking back he sees nothing but peace and contentment in the face of his lover.

Haldir does not hear the soft footsteps across his floor, the creak of a door opening, or the last words that Faramir whispers to him.

“I love you.”

Haldir hears nothing until much later when someone runs, screaming, past his window.

“The king has been murdered!”

Chapter 4

Haldir is awakened instantly by these words. Grabbing the nearest clothing he can find he dresses quickly. Barefoot, he grabs his weapons and runs out the door. Ahead of him there is a blaze of light and he heads that way. He’s passed by a few soldiers but they are headed the other way and he does not try to stop them for information. Mentally he’s going through his mind about who would have been on duty during this time and why they were not able to stop the assassination. But the names that come to mind, Echarad, Thenithim, Magorlas, and Rodongol, are all loyal followers and have served under him for years. Briefly he wonders where Faramir is, but his lover is a man by many years and Haldir is positive that wherever he is, he is safe.

He is, therefore, completely caught off guard by the scene he encounters when he enters the great hall. It is as though night has become day, for every available light has been brought into this one room and there can be no hiding the terrible scene that Haldir sees in front of him. Faramir is kneeling upon the floor, Queen Arwen stands above him, she has a sword in her hand and the tip of it rests against the back of Faramir’s neck. There is an angry glint in her eye and Haldir braces himself for what is to come next.

Boromir surges forward but he is grabbed and held in place both by guards of Gondor and Lothlórien. “Please my Queen, I beg of you to spare him.”

The sword in her hand never wavers. “Even were we to return him to Gondor the outcome would be no different. Though he deserves it, at least at my hand he will not suffer.”

Haldir finally finds his voice, “Is justice so swiftly served without a trial?”

Arwen ticks her gaze to him. “You are his lover, I could hold you complicit as well.”

Haldir goes cold but before he can reply a male voice rings out.“You would be both judge and jury my Queen?”

The throng parts as Aragorn comes walking forward. Haldir can see the ripped shirt and the bloody bandage, so an attempt was made but the King still lives. He is grateful for that. To have a murder here in such a peaceful place would ruin the sanctity that Celeborn and Galadriel has worked to achieve all of these years. But he is still confused, for Faramir has never hinted of such thoughts and Haldir has ever known him to be a seeker of peace.

“He tried to kill you, my King. You suffered greatly to prove your worth before you took the throne and many years I waited for you to prove to my father that your intent to be my husband was sincere.” Her hand still never wavered and that point remained sharp upon Faramir’s neck.“Natural death will take you one day, but until then I will kill any who tries to take you away from me.”

Aragorn placed a gentle kiss upon her brow. “Justice is Gondor. We will deal with actuality first.” He removes the sword from Arwen’s hand.

Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel came to stand beside Aragorn and Arwen. “We have failed to keep you safe and we are to blame here also.”

Gravely Galadriel intoned, “I had perceived that there was one among your group who was planning ill, but the person masked their intent well and I only ever picked up on fleeting glimpses.”

Aragorn tested the heft of the blade in his hand, “We will solve this here and now. Arwen is correct that death is the only allowable outcome here. We will have stained your land with blood and I deeply regret this.”

“NO.” Both Haldir and Boromir surged forward once again. But it was Boromir who reaches Faramir first. “Please my King, though this attempted deed was done by my brother’s hand, it was not his idea.”

Haldir only catches Boromir’s words in passing as he kneels beside Faramir. Carefully he reaches out with one hand and places it on Faramir’s shoulder. Beneath his hand he feels nothing; Faramir’s psyche has made its final retreat.

He gives a thoughtful look to Galadriel, but he does not remove his hand. Instead he focuses on what Boromir is now saying.

“For years after you took the throne father waged a never ending war with me. Kill the King and the house of Denethor will once again ascend the throne.”

He turned sad eyes from Aragorn down to his brother. “He was like a sickness, his whisperings were insidious, ubiquitous. When I refused to do his bidding he turned his attention to Faramir.”

Boromir knelt beside Faramir, gently he ran a hand over his brother’s head. “The failing is mine, my King. I should have come to you years ago and told you what was happening. But I only know what happened with me for of these arguments between father and Faramir, Faramir only mentioned in passing and any time I asked that he come to you only resulted in physical confrontations between us. I did not have proof of anything more. If you take his life, then you must take mine also, for even by proxy I am complicit in these events.”

Boromir laid his head down upon the floor by Faramir’s.

Aragorn shifted his gaze from the brothers kneeling at his feet over to Arwen, and then to Galadriel and Celeborn. All he had other than Faramir’s atrocious actions were Boromir’s words. He had heard whispers of Denethor’s plotting, but all his discreet questioning led to naught. There had simply been no proof other than muttered hints here and there. That Faramir had been badly used was obvious given his actions both during and after the attempted assassination. But other than that, there was no evidence of anyone else being involved.

As if reading his mind, Haldir gained his feet and surged forward. He looked directly at Galadriel.

“I invoke the right of Illuvenolodo.”

Every elf in the room goes still. Boromir raises his head up questioningly. The air is heavy, like right before a lightning storm, and he can feel the silent struggle of wills between Haldir and Galadriel. He hadn’t realized the depth of the attraction between Haldir and his brother. By the Valar, he hadn’t even been aware they were lovers. His heart clenches in pain. What other things does he not know about Faramir? But of one thing he is very sure, Haldir is the only one who can save Faramir.

Galadriel looks at Aragorn. “Illuvenolodo is an ancient rite, where the memories of the accused can be transferred into another being.”

“NO.” Faramir jerks away from Boromir and tries to stand, but Boromir falls on him, pinning him to the ground.

Haldir is on his knees instantly beside Faramir. “Please beloved, it is the only way.”

Faramir slams his head into Boromir’s face. His brother rolls away, groaning, one hand clamped over his nose as blood begins to seep between his fingers. Faramir tries to stand but both the guards of Gondor and Lothlórien are on him instantly and he is roughly jerked to his feet.

Wild eyed, he looks from Aragorn to Galadriel. “No, It was only me, this was all my idea.” He pleaded, “I’ll swear it on anything you want me to.”

“Please,” his knees give way and he sags back to the ground once more. “Please, just kill me now.”

Had Faramir reacted any other way, Aragorn might have executed him out of hand, right then and there, but in his heart, he knows there is truth to the rumors he has heard. But proof is still needed, more than one life is on the line here.

Aragorn turns to Galadriel. “If you accept Haldir’s petition of Illuvenolodo, then I do as well.”

Faramir goes ballistic, “NO, I WILL NOT ALLOW IT.” He fights fiercely, almost winning through,but at the last moment both Boromir and Haldir get hold of him. Faramir goes down with an audible woof as the breath is knocked out of him. Haldir and Boromir are solid muscle and he cannot throw off their combined weight.

“Please brother, none will judge you harshly.”

Faramir swings his head around, aiming for Boromir’s nose again. “You have no idea brother, and I will not have my memories judged by another.”

Boromir dodges Faramir’s blow, pulls back and slaps Faramir hard across the face.

Faramir’s head jerks back against Haldir’s chest, the struggling stops but his eyes narrow dangerously.

Haldir is a warrior and he understands Boromir’s action. Keeping his arms wrapped securely around Faramir (and feeling the frantic beating of Faramir’s heart beneath his arm) he leans forward carefully, mindful of the fact that Faramir might just as easily turn on him at this moment.

“Your King has spoken and you must do as he asks.”

Faramir looks at him out of the corner of his eye but says nothing.

“This is an elven ritual and I will be the one to whom your memories will be given.”

“I will not have you responsible for the things in my head.” Faramir twists out of Haldir’s arms, aided no doubt by the sweat that covers his body. He makes a desperate lunge for Aragorn but Arwen intercepts him and Faramir finds himself lying flat on his face with one arm twisted behind his back.

Haldir, Boromir, Aragorn and all the guards are openly gaping at what they have just witnessed. “I will explain later my husband,” came her terse reply.

Aragorn hoisted his jaw off the ground. “Aye.”

“Listen well Faramir, the king has made a decision and you WILL abide by it. If you cannot stand for your brother or lover to know what has come before, then I can stand in their stead.” Her voice is low, steady but very commanding.

Faramir tries once more to struggle, but Arwen twists his captured arm and he immediately subsides.

“I also give you my word I will not reveal what I have seen, I will only confirm or deny Boromir’s story.”

Many long moments pass but then Faramir finally takes one deep breath. “Do you swear this, my queen?”

Arwen releases his arm. “To the day of my death I swear.”

“I accept your offer.”

Arwen moves away as Faramir rolls over. Both Haldir and Boromir go to him. They each take a hand and pull him up. He embraces both of them, but buries his head into Haldir’s chest.

“Please, don’t be angry. I just can’t bear for either of you to know the truth.”

Haldir presses a quick kiss onto the top of his head. “I would never think less of you, no matter what the truth is. Faramir brother of Boromir, you are a good man; the Moon would have brought none but the best.”

Boromir drops his head onto Faramir’s shoulder. “Brother, the fault is mine. I knew what father was trying to do, but you always seemed so strong.” His voice trails off for a moment. “Whatever the truth is, I wish you would let me share it with you.”

Faramir raises his head. “I cannot bear the things I might see when I look in your eyes, should you know all that happened. Please brother, this is for the best.”

They stand together, the three of them close, Haldir and Boromir sending what strength they can via touch for the trial that Faramir is about to face alone.

They stay that way, unmoving, as Galadriel orders out all but the players in this terrible game of truth and dare out the door. Illuvenolodo is a private ritual and too many about will muddle the waters of memory.

Chapter 5

As the last elf filed out of the great hall everything became silent. It was as if even nature was holding it’s breath, no crickets, or the chirripings of birds or even the squeaking of bats penetrated the hush that had fallen on the land.

Galadriel stepped forth, “Faramir you must now separate yourself from those you love. Illuvenolodo is a trial of the heart and it must always be faced alone.”

Faramir embraced Haldir and Boromir, he wanted to speak, but suddenly his voice just wasn’t there. He gave Boromir a brief smile then stepped away. His eyes were clear and he felt terribly scared but oddly free at the same time.

“Faramir, son of Denethor and the house of Stewards do you accept this ritual?”

Faramir stared at Galadriel for a long moment, “I do.”

She placed on hand on his head, “kneel.”

Galadriel motioned for Arwen to come stand beside Faramir.

“Queen Arwen of Gondor and daughter to Elrond do you accept these memories, to judge them truth or not ?”

“I do.”

Galadriel placed her other hand upon Arwen’s head, “kneel.”

Boromir leaned towards Haldir intending to say something but received a shake of the head. He couldn’t imagine what things Faramir was carrying around in his head that would make him fight so badly to die rather than speak openly. It was probably a good thing Arwen had agreed to being the memory keeper. For it was nigh on likely that Galadriel would sense that when he got back home, Boromir was going to kill his father.

Haldir’s eyes went from Boromir to Faramir. That his lover’s brother was strong was never in question, but he prayed to the Valar that whatever strength Boromir possessed that it had been passed on to Faramir as well. The moon had brought him this wonderful kind man, though someday he would die a natural death Haldir was just not ready for it to be today.

Off to one side Aragorn watched pensively. There was too much going on here and he had been privy to none of it. A king should know about those he ruled. Even Arwen showed some unexpected fighting skills. But regardless of the outcome, death was really the only viable option for Faramir. The cub had bit him once and the taste of blood was there. There were no guarantees that somewhere down the road Faramir might not feel compelled to follow through with these same actions again. Arwen’s information would help but there were no other options unless..

Galadriel took a deep breath, once again the air took on that heavy feel of an unseen lightning storm. Outside there was one ominous rumbling then silence.

Boromir felt the surge of power that swirled around the room. This was old powerful magic, no wonder the elves were leaving these lands. Power like this could be dangerous in the wrong hands and as it stood right now, Mirkwood was the last elven stronghold. How much longer before it fell and that magic passed into the possession of those who had no right to wield it?

Haldir’s eyes went from Faramir to Arwen and then back again. Faramir’s breath became short and beneath his closed eyelids Haldir could see his eyes dancing back and forth. A rare frown creased Arwen’s face and most oddly she began to clench and unclench her fist.

Dawn was just approaching through the tree tops when Galadriel stepped away. Immediately attendants were at her side, helping her to a nearby chair, offering her drink. Not once did she open her eyes.

Aragorn went to Arwen’s side at once. She was panting as though she had run a great distance and in her eyes he could see the terrible reflections of memories that were not her own. He went to help her stand but she waved his hand away. Instead she moved over to Faramir, hovering but not touching him.

Faramir dropped his head to the floor and began to sob. These were great gut wrenching tears but the occasional high pitched whistle of incoming breath gave them a sadly childlike quality.

Haldir and Boromir both went towards Faramir but Arwen waived them off as well, enigmatically she spoke, “moments of truth are always faced alone.”

Deeply troubled Arwen stared down at the weeping Faramir. Never would she speak of the evil she encountered within Faramir’s mind, but that such barbarous actions could be visited upon one who was so intrinsically good, the parent in her heart was outraged and even were it to be privately she was going to see to it that Denethor lost his life for this.

Time continued to pass, as Faramir cried, as Arwen gave consideration to what she had witnessed and how much of what happened could be attributed to Faramir alone. Finally she waved Haldir and Boromir forward, he heart gladdened by the tender way in which Haldir took Faramir into his arms. His brother Boromir encircled them both in his arms. Family came in many forms, but love never changes.

Arwen stood, taking a deep breath she looked at her husband, “Faramir speaks the truth. He was goaded beyond reason.”

Aragorn inclined his head, “I accept your wisdom in this matter, but I still cannot allow Faramir to live. There must be retribution for his actions.”

Haldir and Boromir both came towards Aragorn, between the musical language of Haldir’s elvish and Boromir’s strongly worded protests nothing specific could be made out, but Aragorn got the gist of it all the same.

He quelled both of them with a look. “I can however allow Faramir to live outside the Borders of Gondor. He is banished from my realm for as long as he lives and never again can he be allowed to roam freely about as he has done for so long now.”

Arwen put a hand on Aragorn’s arm and he looked at her.

“Faramir is a deeply wounded man, I believe that he will find much healing here in Lothlorien.” She turned a tired smile upon Haldir.

“Tell me guardsman, can you provide a safe place for Faramir to reside and seek healing as he is able?”

Haldir nodded one time, “No one will ever harm him again.”

With that he scooped Faramir up into his arms and exited the great hall.

Epilogue:

Faramir lived long and within time he found the peace and healing that had been denied him within the land of Gondor. Queen Arwen kept her word and never again did she ever speak of what she had seen that day. But she did show Aragorn that nifty move that had turned the tide of battle within Faramir’s broken heart. Many years later the king took his final rest. Arwen left the land of Gondor never to return. For one season she wandered the land of Lothlorien, broken by the loss of one she had loved so deeply. But she was not alone, during that time there were two guardsmen who never left her side. Haldir, who would not sail to the land of his people while his beloved still lived and Faramir who owed his existence to her. For she had seen his tragic abuse at the hands of another and never once judged him for it. Six months later when Faramir died with his last breath he looked at Haldir and smiled.

“I die free.”

END

NB: Please do not distribute (by any means, including email) or repost this story (including translations) without the author's prior permission. [ more ]

Enjoyed this story? Then be sure to let the author know by posting a comment at https://www.faramirfiction.com/fiction/waiting-on-the-moon. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!