Faramir Fiction Archive

Walk No More In The Shadows (NC-17)

Written by Minx and Iris

12 January 2007 | 50694 words | Work in Progress

Chapter 12

Aragorn started at that. “Dear friend, I wish you would have spoken of this yesterday.”

Gandalf looked up sharply, “You did not —?”

“Well, not exactly, but, well… he insisted on helping with my ‘needs’ as you term them, and—”

“I was afraid of that!” Gandalf said, sounding more than a little annoyed, “You see now what I said? You stopped him, surely?”

Aragorn flushed a little at that. “I tried to of course, but he is, well, very talented.”

“You think this is a talent?” the wizard sounded truly agitated now, “A gift he was born with?”

Aragorn cringed slightly at his friend’s outburst. No, of course it wasn’t talent, but he had not wanted to contemplate just how Faramir had acquired such skill. He had tried to avoid thinking about the incident at all, and yet he had caught himself several times that day with his mind far from his work. And although it was not unusual these days for Aragorn to be distracted by thought of Faramir, today it was not only worry for his young steward that kept him from his work, but also, much to his embarrassment, less innocent thoughts.

Seeing the guilt build on Aragorn’s features, Gandalf quickly intervened. “What’s done, is done. What is more important now, is how the boy reacted. What exactly did you say to him?”

“I —,” Aragorn flushed a little as he spoke, “I well, I helped him out too,” he said, loathe to discuss something as intimate as this but feeling that Gandalf ought to know.

The wizard nodded slowly, raising one questioning eyebrow.

“And — he was surprised, very much so. He felt I shouldn’t have done so. I told him I was returning the favour.”

“It would have been an unorthodox move for him, certainly,” the wizard agreed.

“It’s what I would have done were he anyone else. It is only fair to return the favour, I should think,” Aragorn countered.

“But he is not anyone else. I do not think his pleasure has ever been catered to, Aragorn,” Gandalf said calmly, “As said, I think he has a very limited understanding of what is normal in adult relationships. Or when he does understand, he does not see himself as someone who could ever be a full, equal partner in such a relationship.”

Aragorn nodded slowly as Gandalf voiced much of what he’d assumed.

“Perhaps,” Gandalf said carefully, “This is not so bad an occurrence after all.”

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at that.

“There is much Faramir needs to learn — of his own worth, and of the fact that he too can be loved. Learning such things is a bumpy road for all of us, with some nights we’d rather forget about, and some lovers best left behind. But that is the only way to learn.”

“Most of us get this out of the way, for the most part at least, while we’re young. Quite a bit younger than young Faramir perhaps. But in my opinion it is never too late to learn, so the sooner he’s set off on this road, the better.”

Gandalf carefully studied his companion’s expression as his words sank in. “Unless, of course…” he added slowly.

Aragorn looked up questioning.

“Unless of course this was not a night — or a morning, as the case may be — to forget, and you, my dear friend, would rather not be left behind.” Gandalf suggested shrewdly.

Aragorn had been thinking about things, and a tiny thought at the back of his mind kept pushing itself forward insistently. The little thought that kept reminding him that he was beginning to enjoy Faramir’s company and that he was coming to be more than a little fond of the quiet young man.

“Perhaps you speak truly,” Aragorn said instead, “And what I think is one thing but what Faramir may understand of all this is another. Should I speak to him, do you think?”

“Yes, you need to speak to him,” Gandalf said quietly, “He is a rather confused young man nowadays and perhaps a small talk with him will help him clear his thoughts, as well as yours.”

“He is confused yes,” Aragorn said, “And you are right, there is much he must understand, more so if he is to marry soon.”

“Hmm,” Gandalf continued, “I would rather it is you he turns to than anyone else. Clearly he is increasingly fond of you, and — you are right. You must speak to him. And tell me what he says.”

The wizard got up to leave, but before he reached the door, he turned. “And if you decide to pursue this, do be careful. It is up to you to go slow, for he will not deny you anything — you have seen that now. And you have also seen he can react to the simplest things. You know of what I speak — the vivid flashbacks he has.”

He waited for Aragorn’s comprehending nod before he continued, “If he experiences those at the sight of a lantern, or the thought of a bath, I can only begin to imagine what memories will be stirred up should the two of you ever become more intimate than you have been so far — if you understand what I mean.”

With that Gandalf left the room.

The day seemed interminably long to Faramir. There was a lot to do for which he was grateful… it gave him something to focus his attention on instead of the events of the morning, although truth be told he could just not keep his mind off the morning. He had woken up to feel the king behind him, and true he had almost panicked at first. And yet, Elessar had actually apologised for scaring him. He hadn’t meant to wake up like that, Faramir knew. He himself had acted almost out of habit after that. Anyone else, Denethor or anyone in that situation would have wanted only one thing from him.

Elessar had not. Elessar had instead had only kind smiles and gentle words for him, despite his discomfort. It had felt right to him to take away that discomfort.

Elessar hadn’t expected that, and yet Faramir knew he’d been more than satisfied. But he couldn’t help but wonder what the king might think of him now. Denethor had always expected Faramir to cater to his needs but it hadn’t made him any better disposed towards the younger son. Instead Faramir had been constantly referred to as filthy, dirty and nothing better than a common whore for seeing to these needs.

Elessar was not Denethor and nothing like him, Faramir knew that. He had constantly seen that, but… what if Elessar saw him the same way?

His hands trembled slightly as he lifted some papers off his desk, and he nearly jumped at the knock on his door.

“Enter,” he said trying desperately to keep his voice calm even as he wondered frantically who might have come to visit him.

“May I come in?” Aragorn asked hesitantly, still half hiding behind the door.

“But of course, my liege,” Faramir stumbled instantly, automatically, overcome by surprise of the king’s presence in his study.

The king barely ever came to his study; Faramir always came to him. In fact, Faramir now realized, the only time Elessar had ever come to his study before was when he had first fallen ill, which had made him miss a meeting — and the king very angry.

Faramir observed his king uncertainly. He looked uncomfortable, unsure what to say. Perhaps he was angry again, Faramir thought. He certainly had good reason to. Perhaps the king had come to tell him he’d best leave the city after what happened that morning, that he didn’t want him around anymore. Perhaps it was worse news still.

Aragorn had been pondering over just what to say to Faramir ever since Gandalf left his room earlier that evening, and seeing his steward now — so timid, anxious almost — made him hesitate yet again. He had not doubted Gandalf’s assessment of the situation, but seeing Faramir now made it all the more real.

Looking around his steward’s study, he realized there were no comfortable chairs or roaring fire to create a pleasant corner for an informal conversation like in his own study, so he took a place at the window-seat instead.

“Come join me,” he patted the seat next to him while addressing Faramir, who was still eying him apprehensively, “I’d like to talk about what happened this morning.”

In the high but narrow windows in this part of the tower, the window-seats only barely provided enough room for two, but Faramir duly obeyed and squeezed into the space Aragorn had indicated, sitting primly upright and pulling his legs in just so, in order to prevent their knees from touching

Seeing the gesture, Aragorn quickly put his hand on Faramir’s knee and smiled at him at the same time, urging him to relax. “Please, there is nothing to fret over. I told you this morning, you did nothing wrong. It is I who came to apologize,” he started.

“Oh no, my lord! You have nothing to apologize for!” Faramir insisted instantly, looking if anything more tense than he had a moment ago.

“Faramir, please, let me speak. I frightened you this morning, and for that I am deeply sorry. I should have shown more control, especially since I know you have been through so much, and the reason I was there was to protect you from more hurt. I understand if you would prefer Gandalf to tend to you from now on.”

Faramir bit his lip nervously. So Elessar didn’t want to care for him anymore. He probably found him repulsive, but was too kind to tell him outright. What a fool he’d been for thinking this could have ended any other way, for believing anyone like Elessar would want to spend time with him.

Aragorn watched the turmoil on the younger man’s face, discouraged that his words seemed to have done little to reassure him. “Faramir, forgive me, please,” he tried.

“But my liege, you never frightened me. I know you would never hurt me. I’ve know from the first time I saw you, when you called me out of the shadows, and again last night when you called me from my dream. You have always made me feel safe.” Faramir took a deep breath before he continued, “I understand you do not want to have anything to do with me anymore for the liberties I took this morning, and for that I can only apologize. But you, my Lord, have nothing to apologize for. You have only ever shown me kindness.”

Aragorn grabbed hold of Faramir’s knees with both hands now, needing the contact. “The liberties you took? Oh Faramir! You did no such thing, I assure you. It is not that I want naught to do with you — there is nothing I would like more than make you feel safe and help you sleep soundly. But you have to understand you do not need to repay me. And—,” he paused to reflect on Gandalf’s words, and to choose his own carefully, “and there are some favours that should never be used for bargaining.”

Faramir looked up to him and nodded. He seemed less anxious now, but it was difficult to read from his expression if he had really understood.

“If you want, I will sleep next to you again and keep your nightmares at bay. Or if you prefer, I am certain Gandalf will be more than happy to watch over you instead. It is entirely up to you.”

“I could not ask any more of either of you,” Faramir protested weakly.

“Nonsense. We both are happy to help. But if you feel safe with me as well, maybe it is best to let the old wizard sleep. I think he needs it.”

Faramir continued to bite his lower lip uncertainly, trying to sort out his muddled thoughts. He wasn’t sure why he’d acted the way he had that morning, and truly the breathless look of pleasure on Aragorn’s face had evoked a strange feeling in him. He had acted almost on impulse, knowing somehow that Elessar would never expect it from him.

The king had spoken of favours that should never be used for bargaining and Faramir felt a dull ache inside him as he recollected the words. To him, such favours had always been a bargain, a losing one. He had never had the choice to refuse. And he had never received anything in return.

Perhaps the king did not indeed see him as Denethor had…

“I feel safe with you,” he repeated softly, “Safer than ever.”

Aragorn smiled gently at him at the words and quietly grasped the Steward’s cold hands in his own and pressed them gently, “I shall see you after the evening meal then,” he said. And then after a pause, “You did nothing that you need fear about this morning. I liked what we shared, but I would not have it unless you liked it too, and did so from your own desire and not from a need to oblige me as lord. If you wish to forget ever that it happened, I shall do so too. If you choose to remember it I shall cherish it.”

Faramir had been quiet while eating, too lost in thoughts. Elessar’s words had left him quite thoughtful. It was not often that he had catered to someone’s needs and created such a near-uproar. He had expected surprise, disgust, shock but not an apology. He noticed the king and Gandalf exchange glances at dinner.

They were worried he realized, almost surprised. Worried for him, because he had chosen to cater to his king’s needs. Worried because he had been intimate with another. Mithrandir had subjected him to a close scrutiny making Faramir wonder uncomfortably whether the wizard expected him to fall over during the meal.

It hurt him a little. Did they think what had happened that morning would hurt him? Did they expect him to react like a swooning maiden? He’d been scared he realized now, but he’d pushed the fear away. And yet, he had been afraid and they must have realized that for they feared for him now in their glances at him every now and then.

He was being stupid. He had to lose his fear.

He met the king outside his chambers after the meal.

They entered Faramir’s room quietly and Aragorn gently steered him towards the bed.

“You said we needn’t do anything,” Faramir said suddenly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” Aragorn smiled reassuringly, “We’ll just sleep. You need enough rest anyway.”

“I — um… I’d like to,” Faramir said rapidly.

“You would like to?” Aragorn asked, quietly.

Faramir nodded diffidently, “If — if you’d like. I don’t want to forget what we shared this morning. You cared for me unlike — unlike — … and you reminded me that — that — this is not an act I should fear,… But if you’d prefer to not — I —”

“No… I would like that,” Aragorn replied gently, pulling Faramir into his arms. “You are right, it is not an act that anyone should fear. It is meant to be enjoyable — for both.”

“I — I know it is meant to be enjoyed… and I have seen happiness on the faces of others after they have spent the night with another. But I — I have never — enjoyed it,” Faramir said haltingly, miserably, “And yet I know it is meant to be enjoyed, but —”

“Sshh…” Aragorn whispered gently, taking Faramir’s face in his hands and gazing into the clouded grey eyes, “I’ll show you how… let me show you…”

They sat down on the bed and Aragorn pulled off his outer garments and stood in a thin tunic and pants. Faramir made to remove his clothes too, but Aragorn stopped him.

“Let me,” he said softly, not missing the slight tremble in Faramir’s figure. It was clear a part of the Steward was still troubled. He gently pulled Faramir onto the bed and leaned over him and began to undo the bindings on the tunic exposing Faramir’s bare chest underneath. Faramir’s eyes were full of uncertainty as Aragorn pulled off the tunic entirely and moved his fingers to the ties of his pants. But Aragorn also kept up a soft and tender stroking motion on the small of Faramir’s back that seemed to allay his nervousness a little and he even began to relax slowly. He then helped the younger man up to pull off the pants entirely and then leaned over and kissed him softly on his mouth, before placing him back against the pillows. Faramir flushed slightly and gave Aragorn an anxious glance as the older man smiled gently at him.

Realising Faramir felt a little awkward over his nakedness, Aragorn busied himself with undoing his own tunic. He’d seen the younger man undressed earlier but Faramir had been unconscious then and would probably be as embarrassed to hear about it.

Faramir turned over onto his stomach and spread his legs slightly and turned his face sideways towards Aragorn, who had removed his own pants and tunic completely now, revealing a well—proportioned handsome figure.

Aragorn could see Faramir still felt a little tense; the bright grey eyes darted around rapidly at every movement Aragorn made, and a slight tremor ran through the legs. The sight made him remember Gandalf’s words from earlier that evening: his warning to go slow and be aware some things may jog unpleasant memories.

Very gently, Aragorn reached for him and turned him over. Surprise was etched clearly on Faramir’s features, and discomfort too. Going slow was easier said than done! He would have to act somehow, he decided, or else the young man’s fragile confidence would soon disappear completely.

He stroked the pale face gently, in a relaxing motion. And then reached lower and took his arousal in his hands. Faramir gasped very softly at that.

“You look beautiful,” Aragorn murmured softly, as he reached for the bottle of oil he’d seen by the nightstand, and coated Faramir’s shaft with it, slowly and gently, watching the expression on his face change as it thickened under his fingers.

The grey eyes opened wide as Aragorn took more oil in his fingers and contorting his body coated his entrance generously with it.

“Wh—what are you doing?” Faramir asked worriedly.

“I’d like to feel you inside me,” Aragorn said softly, as he continued working the oil into himself.

“Wh—what?”

Faramir stared at him a little uncomprehendingly as he repeated, “I’d like to feel you inside me.”

“B—but…”

“Ssh…” Aragorn murmured placing a finger on Faramir’s lips as he straddled himself over the younger man’s thighs and pushed himself onto his erect member.

“No,” Faramir cried out, as Aragorn grunted a little, “It’ll hurt you… you mustn’t!” He reached for Aragorn’s waist trying to urge him to pull out.

“I’ll be fine,” Aragorn gritted out as he felt Faramir fill him. He pushed in harder, forcing Faramir to fall back against the pillows, and despite himself Faramir found his body betraying him as Aragorn’s tight muscles clenched around him. He let Aragorn take over after that, pushing as demanded, and allowing the king to take his hands and wrap them around his arousal and stroke it as they rocked in tandem, until Aragorn suddenly cried out and clenched tighter around him. Faramir gasped softly at that, knowing he could not control himself any longer. The king threw his head back, his hair flying wild sweat glistening off the muscles of his chest and abdomen, and let out another animalistic moan before releasing himself at the same time as Faramir.

They came apart slowly and lay in each other’s arms getting their breath back. Faramir spoke first, “Are you all right?” he asked timidly, turning to look anxiously at Aragorn.

“Never better,” Aragorn smiled, “You were wonderful!”

“I didn’t hurt you?” Faramir asked worriedly.

“Of course not, darling! It was most enjoyable!”

“You—you enjoyed that?” Faramir asked a little incredulously. He’d had to impale himself once on Denethor who had had a bad back and the pain the experience had caused had remained for days after that. He’d been sore and in pain not just from the act itself but also from the bruises Denethor’s fingers had left in his waist and hips. And while he knew that there were others who found this pleasurable it was difficult to remember that while being made to hurt in performing the same act.

“Of course I did,” Aragorn repeated reassuringly.

“Oh,” Faramir said, and then after a longer pause, “Could — could you show me how,” he said in a rush.

Aragorn stared at him in confusion, “How to what?”

“How to enjoy that?” Faramir said blushing a little, as he realized how he must sound. It was supposed to be an enjoyable act he knew, but he had never been given an opportunity to enjoy it and that hurt.

Aragorn looked at Faramir closely. The younger man seemed to need this, he thought, and he was determined to ensure he’d teach Faramir what it felt like to actually be made love to. Still, it was all very much, so soon. What if he could not make it good for him? Or what if Faramir panicked, like Gandalf had suggested, before he had even had a chance?

“I suppose so,” he said slowly, gently, “But, tonight?”

Faramir nodded.

“All right,” Aragorn said pulling him closer and kissing him softly on his forehead, “But we’ll go only as far as I say we shall.”

Faramir nodded and then to Aragorn’s puzzlement rose and turned away from him. He smiled as he realized the Steward had reached for the oil, but the smile faltered as he watched Faramir take it in his fingers and swiftly coat himself with it before Aragorn could even tell him to let him do it. He’d obviously done this before, Aragorn realized with a pang of sadness.

“I’m ready,” Faramir said in a small voice, sounding a little nervous once again.

Aragorn quietly took the oil from his hands and nudged him down onto the pillows, spreading his legs apart a little. He could feel the steward’s puzzled gaze rest on him as he helped himself to more oil from the bottle, noting quietly that Faramir had taken but a bare minimal amount, and coated his fingers thoroughly with it. Kneeling down between Faramir’s spread legs, he gave him a small smile, “Relax,” he said soothingly, and circled his fingers around the tiny entrance.

He pushed in very slowly and gently. Faramir took him in easily and Aragorn soon slipped in a second finger, circling inside the passageway lubricating it thoroughly. Faramir still looked a little uneasy so Aragorn leaned over and kissed him gently on his lips, and stroked his chest with his other hand. He inched his fingers in slowly further and further, until he felt the tiny gland he sought, and then he crooked his fingers brushing over it gently. Faramir gasped aloud.

“Oh!”

“Did you like that?” Aragorn asked softly, as he pulled his fingers away and then brushed over the area once again.

Faramir could only nod. Aragorn kept up a deliberate routine of pulling away and brushing in again and again and watched as Faramir’s gasps turned into an almost silent ecstasy. Faramir’s hands were gripping his arms now and he moaned softly as Aragorn’s fingers worked.

Once more, he lightly stroked the sensitive gland, and watched as Faramir’s eyes clouded over. He kept up the stroking motion, gently circling the spot with two fingertips.

Faramir groaned aloud and then cried out as Aragorn wrapped his free hand around his arousal and squeezed it lightly.

Faramir was still crying out softly when he came, breathing heavily and rapidly, his eyes full of a dazed wonder.

“Did you enjoy that?” Aragorn asked gently as he made Faramir lie back after cleaning up.

Faramir nodded quietly, too tired to speak.

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/walk-no-more-in-the-shadows. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!