Faramir Fiction Archive

When the last hope leaves you (R)

Written by Anastasiya

19 December 2009 | 8720 words

Title: When the last hope leaves you
Author: Anastasiya
Rating: R
Pairing: Faramir & Aragorn
Warning: Slash
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.
Feedback: Always appreciated!
A/N: Great thanks to Ingrid for being so wonderful beta-reader and simply good friend. I do not know what I would do without her.

Written for the 2009 Midwinter Swap.

Request by Leianora: I’d like anything with him paired with elves who are canon characters and/or Aragorn. It’d be neat to read a Young! Faramir fic where he is in his twenties or thirties. Happy endings are definitely required. No cute or shortened names, EVER! Optional Prompt: Faramir is sold to the Haradrim in exchange for a promise that they will not invade Gondor during his father’s rule. Someone, and again, any elf or Aragorn will do, saves him and helps him begin healing from the horrors he endured. You can be as descriptive or not as you choose to be.

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Prologue

Not a shadow of wonder passed across Faramir’s face as Denethor had given his consent to the Haradrims’ demand. Demand for giving to them his youngest son in exchange for the non-aggression against Gondor… No, Gondor was not so weak not to defend, as well as Harad was not so powerful to win the war, but Faramir knew that his father bewared of another threat. This was the spreading threat of Mordor, and Denethor, being the man of keen intellect, was well aware that Gondor could not endure the fight on two fronts. So, his decision was full expected.

Faramir was disturbed with just one thought – why the Haradrims wanted him? He was not an heir and, as he considered, had no significant worth for Gondor at all. But the claim was declared with the utmost clarity – Faramir, captain of Ithilien rangers, the youngest son of the Steward and no one else.

He gave Denethor a searching look wishing to see whatever father’s emotions, but the man’s face was absolutely impenetrable – he made his choice. ‘Perhaps,’ Faramir thought lowering his eyes, ‘I would truly never become a son worthy of such a man. I would not have strength to take such decision.’

But it made no difference now and he tried to throw all thoughts away.

Not everyone there, however, was as calm as he was. Boromir suddenly flung himself to their father crying in a furious, loud voice. His doing made Faramir’s heart warm a bit. Boromir had always loved him and tried to protect him, but now it was totally useless.

It seemed the walls were trembling with Boromir’s cries. His brother was a temperamental man and Faramir deeply admired him. But he had never allowed himself to behave that way before, especially in the presence of other people.

Denethor watched his eldest son grimly and said nothing. And that nonchalant drove Boromir to condition of absolute despair. In a final disparate motion he threw himself to Faramir, shielding him with his body and cried, “Never! Never will my brother be a slave in your damnable Land! Father, it’s an unreal request to satisfy! Sooner Gondor will fight to last drop of blood, but never my brother…”

Faramir missed his brother’s last words for at that very moment his eyes met a gaze of his father. He saw determination in Denethor’s face, perhaps even any kind of sadness. But the main was an order in his eyes, an order to stop this lunacy. Denethor knew his sons too well to understand that only Faramir could do this now. And Faramir obeyed.

“Boromir, it’s enough!” he said, laying his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Boromir became silent at once and turned around to look at his brother’s eyes…

And then all that Faramir remembered were his sorrowful and hopeless glance.

“Brother…” he whispered through the dream not wishing to wake up. He saw that part of his memories over and over again while he was sleeping. And that was the only thing his consciousness did for him not to go mad. Not to see that countless dead faces before his eyes. And still be alive.

But even the most horrible dream was more preferable than reality. However it came back to him inevitably, as always, and he agonizingly moaned from the mighty kick in his belly. He had no strength even to scream. His throat seemed to be compressed with an unseen cruel hand, his lips – crannied from the water’s shortage, eyes – swollen from the unshed tears of pain and desperation. He even did not feel himself as a human being any more…

How long had it been going on already? Three years? Four? Maybe five.

He lost the sense of time very long ago, and now it was the same to him. All he wanted was never to wake up, but he was not allowed even that.

Ruthless hand grabbed him by his hair pulling up, and a loud, sharp voice cried into his ear, “Stand up, stubborn pup! It’s time to give your Lord some entertaining!”

Oh, these hated voices, hated hands… They poured into his mouth in a disgusting swill, holding him in a sitting position, and he began choking.

“Easy,” the other prisoner said. “Master will not be pleased with us, if he is not in condition to fulfill his duties! Let him eat his “today’s meal” at first.”

“Eat then!”

Some slices of stale bread and old cheese fell onto the floor before him, and he recoiled with abhorrence. It was his only kind of food for many times and now he could not even imagine gulping it. However his prisoners had another mind. Pressing him to the wall they began forcing it into his mouth. He had no chance to refuse and swallowed all of it at last.

Few minutes later they grasped him by the hands and dragged him out from his cell. Faramir did not ask where he was being lead. He knew it perfectly well. And now it did not matter to him at all.

I

This Land was the absolute Hell. It seemed to me that my black hair was going to fade from that ruthless scorching sun. I wondered how I could have thought before that there was nothing worse on earth than the boundless burnt territories of Mordor. But now I knew better – Harad was worse. Yes, Orcs destroyed all that delighted the hearts of people and their hatred also spread towards the people themselves. However, not even Orcs seemed to be capable of such cruelty that was living in the hearts of the Haradrims. To be so malicious towards someone of their own kind was beyond my understanding. I had heard a lot about that their habits often overstepped the limits of rationality. But now, when I was as the fates decree here, I wished nothing more than to leave this land once and for all.

However now I was standing here having neither the strength to move from my place, nor taking my eyes from the big arena rounded with high dais, where all of the noble people of Harad were sitting. Three young men, nearly boys, were standing in the centre of the arena with swords in their hands and gazing around. Rags and bruises covered their bodies as well as coursed behavior said to me that they were slaves. But their eyes shined with baleful and hating light for they were here to fight. Just kill and live or don’t and die.

My heart beat heavily… And I only wanted to run far away from here. But I couldn’t – not because of any unfinished matters, no, but because of the man who was just now roughly thrown under the feet of the young men. And in this moment, not even realized, I stopped breathing.

This was deliberate humiliation, deliberate mockery – to push him such in a way – face down into dust, half-clothed and defenseless before men with swords in their hands. ‘How had he managed to become such an obvious hatred to the Haradrims?’ I asked myself over and over again. And my heart stopped beating for a moment when one of the young men reached and thumped the lying man’s head with his foot. The head rose, and a strange feeling was transmitted to me as if I knew exactly what emotions stirred in the man’s heart in that very moment. I had been watching him for a long time. But I didn’t understand my feelings towards him. Like the senses aroused by the Ring of Power I loved and hated him. Hated him for the cruelty he killed with, because I thought – better to die than to do this constantly. And loved him – because of the searching gaze he looked at his rivals with, accurately reading sensations in their gazes. But on those faces was only cold resolution and hatred. Having no possibility to see him from the front, I could only imagine how brightly his blue eyes must sparkle in his pale face.

Meanwhile the man stood tottering, glanced over his opponents and took a few steps back under their pressing. A spiteful laugh was heard above his head from the high level of arena, and a big sword fell near his feet. But when the sword was lifted up all sounds died away in the expectation of fighting.

‘Strike!’ I thought, holding my breath, and my lips opened a little in a convulsive sigh when the man repelled the first assault. In the first few moments I had thought he would not withstand this time for he seemed so weak and exhausted, and the sword was too big and heavy in his hand. But soon all of that suddenly changed. And I knew that the Haradrims took pleasure in watching him that way, for he fought with the dexterity and grace of a wild cat. His copper hair flied through the air like splashes of water illuminated with the sunset. His movements were so smooth that they resembled an unusual dance, when he unexpectedly did a quick turn and pierced the one of his opponents.

“Who is he?” I asked again. Not expecting to get an answer I was startled when it suddenly was given.

“Faramir, youngest son of Denethor, steward of Gondor.”

I quickly turned around and met the burning gaze from a man, standing in the shadow.

“I have been watching you for more than two weeks now. You come here constantly. Take enjoyment in the sight of blood?” The stranger asked, and I heard the threat in his voice.

“Blood would hardly give enjoyment,” I said calmly. “I thought that every Gondorian knew that.”

“How do you know I am Gondorian?” he asked suspiciously and narrowed his eyes.

“Your appearance and the manner of your talking gave you away,” I answered. But I needed answer to my own question. “What is a son of Gondor’s steward doing here?”

“Fighting for his life as you can see for yourself. His own father condemned him to do it!”

I turned around quickly. “What?!”

“Denethor gave him to the Haradrims in exchange for peace in Gondor.”

And only the abrupt scream of pain swallowed up the cry from my chest. With my interlocutor, we stared together at the arena in terror.

Meanwhile Faramir sprang back, quickly repulsed an attack. And with all his might he slashed the body of his rival with his blade. A terrible cry escaped from the poor man’s chest while the admiring exclamations of Haradrims, zealous for blood, were heard from above.

Faramir looked madly mesmerizing in that very moment when he suddenly turned to his last enemy. But the enemy, as it appeared, had no wish to go on the fight. With trembling hand he thrown aside the sword and ran to the grille that separated an arena from outside.

“Kill him! Kill him!” The Haradrims cried to Faramir, and he slowly moved towards the terrified man. When the shadow of the Steward’s son fell on the shriveled creature I felt how agonizingly my body was strained.

“Kill him, Faramir!” The brother of the King of Harad, Ismail, cried in a loud and menacing voice. “For you are well aware of what will happen if you do not fulfill my order!”

‘What will happen?’ I thought nervously, and shivers ran through my body.

But I did not have to wait long to receive my answer. Faramir had cast away his sword, showing that it was better to accept the punishment then to kill a surrendering enemy.

And at that moment the grille opened and few solders gathered round him. Faramir was standing without stirring. His chest rose heavily and copper hair gleamed dimly with the sun. And so he waited for Ismail to approach him.

A cruel, dangerous gleam was in the eyes of the Haradrim when he faced the son of Gondor. He grasped Faramir by his throat and hissed, “This is not the first time you refuse my orders, you fool! You think nothing could crush your spirit, do you not? But now you will regret about that!” He brutally pushed Faramir, breathless, into the soldiers’ hands. “Tie him to the grille! And leave this one here!” He pointed on the young man. “Let him see what will be done to anyone who does not obey me!”

At the same time he chose the biggest whip and lashed it on Faramirs naked chest. The lean muscles in his body tensed, and the ropes cut deep into the already bruised limbs. I rather felt than heard the moan, escaped from the beautiful bloody lips. My nails dug into my own palms with such strength that drops of blood appeared. But the most horrible part of this act was still ahead.

I could not say how much time had passed or how many blows Faramir endured, but his chest was all in blood. In spite of that his teeth remained clenched that brought Ismail into a state of furious anger. In a rage he lashed Faramir’s face with back of his hand, and a slim red streams ran down out of nose and the corner of lips.

And in that moment anything changed. With a wave of his hand Ismail ordered to free Faramir and my hands relaxed in the expectation of the end. But next actions made me with all my being rush forward to shield Faramir from that cruel man. Only strong hands of the stranger held me in place.

“Stop!” he said holding me by the elbow. “You can do nothing to help him now! You will just make worse.”

“No! He will not survive it!”

“Survive!” he said calmly and in that very moment I doubted if he was a friend to Faramir. I turned around and looked straight at his eyes but saw there the same feelings I experienced – sadness and compassion. I turned my attention back to the arena.

Faramir was untied, and solders pushed him on his knees. He was nearly unconscious from pain and fatigue. Closing his eyes Faramir powerlessly leaned forward.

“Now you will open your eyes, you obstinate one!” Ismail cried out. Coming to Faramir from the rear he put his left hand round Faramir’s abdomen. Being the man of mighty building, he lightly lifted the weakened body and tore the cloth that covered the lower part of Faramir’s body with one quick ruthless motion. His erection was utterly aroused when he exposed him from his breeches. Parting Faramir’s buttocks apart, he pushed him into the unprepared entrance swiftly, wishing to do it more painful. And in that moment I saw, how agonizingly beautiful Faramir’s face distorted. But his eyes stayed closed.

“Open your eyes, pup!” Ismail cried. Gripping with his merciless hand fair hair he drew Faramir’s head back. And eyes opened at last. I stared at them fascinated, not even realizing how badly my own body was trembling. The pain with different gradations radiated from that blue eyes, and I beg him in my mind, ‘Steady! Stand firm! You must survive it!’

And then all was over. With one final thrust, too painful as it appeared, Ismail came into Faramir. Faramir screamed, and Ismail shouted with provocative laughter. It was like a challenge. A challenge towards Gondor. ‘See, what I am doing with the son of Gondor’s steward.’ And laughter was heard around from above.

I was shaking all over. The picture of the unconscious Faramir, having been taken away from the arena, stood before my eyes. My voice interrupted with sobs as I said, “You must help me. You must help me save him!”

“It is not so easy. Ismail does not leave his slaves unguarded, so they never have even the slightest chance to escape. Nor has he ever sold a ‘gift’, and Faramir was given to him by his brother – the King of Harad.”

This was true, but I did not want to hear his words. Now it became a question of my conscience and more over – the question of my life, for I could not live with it any longer.

So I would do it with or without him.

“How could Denethor treat his son in such a way?”

“But how can a mere mortal understand you, noble person?!” Damrod suddenly said in an angry voice. I stared at him in wonder for I had never told him about my blood, but said nothing, and he proceeded. “If we have children we love them equally and do not make difference between them… But all right. I will help you, my Lord. Faramir deserves it!”

A door leading into the royal chambers was swung open, and the big figure of Ismail appeared in the doorway with a sword in his hand. But he had no time even to look around when I boxed him into his temple with all my might. He fell down with a terrible crush.

I turned around inspecting the battlefield. Several dead bodies were lying, spreading on the floor, and blood dripped from my sword. Damrod finished the last enemy off and gave me a searching look. Absolute understanding ran between us and having nodded, Damrod dissolved in the darkness of passage.

Ismail was lying without any movements but I knew he was still alive, only neutralized. A strange, intuitive grasp visited me that he was destined to be killed from not my hand. And since that very moment the implacable counting of his last years began. Death would expect him in Ithilien few years later.

I stepped over him and quickly made my way to Faramir. He was lying on the bed on his stomach, unconscious. His naked body faintly shined from the blazing candles. I bent over him, carefully turning over, and held my breath for a moment glancing at his face. He was beautiful. Even in spite of haggard cheeks, bruises and scratches he looked so perfect. But almost too pale and serene that I feared if he was still alive. However his weak breath calmed me.

I impatiently shook my head taking all thoughts away. With a quick motion I wrapped Faramir into my cloak and carried him out from the chamber. The corridors were still and empty and I easily came through them with my light load.

Damrod waited for me outside. He looked closely at my worried face, asking, “Is he all right?”

“I do not know… He is unconscious.”

“There is nothing to worry about,” he said inspecting Faramir’s face and body. “He is alive. He is under the action of the drug Ismail has given to him.”

“Drug?” I asked in wonder. “Why?”

“Lord Faramir is proud and stubborn. Even being in semi-syncope he would hardly allow anyone to take him without any resistance. It would inevitably lead to more wounds. And I doubt that Ismail wanted to hurt him more than he had already done, at least in such a way. But let us not talk about it now, my Lord. We need to leave this city. Follow me!”

Some time later we were in a tunnel, leading far beyond the bounds of the city. It was tight enough to thread our way with difficulty, but it was almost secret, so we would not fear for pursuit.

The full moon high above illumined the mighty trees before us when we slipped out at last. Damrod vanished for a few moments but then came back holding the horse by the bridle.

“I cannot give you two horses now for it’s not within my power. But this one is strong enough to carry you both,” he said.

“And you?” I asked.

“I have some business yet to do. So here our ways go separately. Here are some food and blankets for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Do not thank me. Let us clothe Lord Faramir,” he said. While we were dressing Faramir, Damrod went on. “If you follow my instructions you will reach the mountains by tomorrow’s evening. There in the forest at their foot you can have some rest,” he kept silence for a moment but then thoughtfully said. “It is hardly that Ismail would suspect you to move in this direction…”

He helped me to set Faramir on the horse and I lightly jumped on behind him.

“Be swift,” Damrod said again, “but avoiding the roads and settlements. In ten leagues from the forest you will find the only colony candidly aggressive towards the Haradrims’ nobility. And there you can exchange your horse to a pair. But do not risk more than it is necessary for if you are caught, no one could help you. You both will pay for it. But Lord Faramir will pay three times as much.

He took Faramir’s hand and kissed it. Then at last he looked up at me and said, “Farewell, my Lord!”

“Farewell to you too!” I said pressed Faramir to my chest and rushed along – rushed from these cruel people, from that damnable city, carrying Faramir with me.

II

Having leapt from the horse I wrapped my hands around Faramir, carefully pulling him down on the ground. I found the cave, Damrod had told me about, within minutes.

“Good,” I mumbled to myself as I began to cut young twigs of trees. I hoped to spend as much time here as it was necessary to heal Faramir’s wounds, so we both needed the proper beds.

Putting together the twigs along the wall of cave I laid more leaves above and cover all of it with a blanket. Then I carefully transferred Faramir there, covering him with my cloak. Poor and miserable the fearless warrior of Gondor was in that moment. His body was covered with bruises and scars, and though they did not bleed any longer, they had still to arouse the pain.

“Thank the Valar that you are unconscious,” I whispered, taking away the stuck strands of hair from Faramir’s face. “It has spared you from the soreness of the fast riding…”

Then I stood up and began building a fire. It was hot enough outside, but I needed to boil water to clean Faramir’s wounds and, moreover, cook some thing to eat.

Some times later a soft moan rang out from the far corner of the cave. Jumping up I swiftly moved towards Faramir to block any sharp movements, but the young man had already managed to sit up. Leaning against the wall he calmly stared at me. From the all emotions I had expected to see on his face, indifference placed the last. But just like that, cold and expressionless, it was at that very moment.

“Who are you?” he asked in a soft but strong voice. “And why am I here?”

I suddenly felt that I had no answer to no one question. But Faramir gave me no chance to answer, going on. “I know you…” I swallowed hardly. “I saw you earlier, during the fights. You were standing far in the shadow, watching my every motion. At first I thought I was going mad and that a ghost followed me, so light was your shape. But then I discerned you so distinctly. There, during the last fight. When I…”

“Don’t!” I burst in on him, not wishing him to remember all of it, more over – not wishing to remember for myself. “It would be better to forget about it for a while. Call me Estel.”

“Estel…” he repeated. “Hope…”

“Do you know Elvish?”

“Elvish?” he laughed bitterly. And now I plain recognized the notes of cynicism in his a little hoarse voice. “Elvish! How funny it’s to hear that word again! I am quasi from the other world henceforth… Elves, wizards, dwarves – are the words forgotten since many years. Years, I had no gleam of hope. I cannot call you so! Why I am here?” he said again impatiently.

“It was not your place there,” I answered simply.

“My place?” he asked in wonder. “And where is my place in your opinion?” Sarcasm was in his tone. “You do not even know me! How can you decide where my place is?” I felt anger spreading through him.

“I know who you are, Faramir, son of Denethor,” I answered calmly.

“Do you? And now, when you know who I am in reality, do you presume to judge where my place is?!” he suddenly placed his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it painfully. “My own father has decided that the freedom of Gondor is more important then the life of his son. So my place is not there!” his voice grew up about cry.

I was feeling how my nerves were straining.

“And where is my place? Perhaps among the people who lost their kin from the wave of my sword?!”

My nerves were ready to tear like forced strings.

“No! My place was there, where you have taken me from! I became a part of that world – as a creature of murder, as a pleasure slave!”

“It’s enough!” I lost all my patience and stood up quickly. “I beg of you to stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Stop speaking in that tone, laughing in that laughter! Stop torment yourself with what you had no power to change! You are not such a man who cannot understand it. So do not behave like a child!”

I suddenly felt how all my strengths left me. How could I be so heartless and rude with him – with the man endured so much over the years? In a desperate motion I knelt again, grasping his hand.

“Forgive me! I had no right to talk with you in such a manner.” I looked in his eyes with hope that he had no time to hate me yet. But to my wonder I saw there no feeling that could to be estimated as negative. On the contrary, he observed on me sadly, sorrowfully and… tenderly.

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said in surprisingly calm voice. The warm extended through my body from his sudden melodious sounding.

“Faramir… Let all your memories leave you for a while,” I whispered pleadingly. “Now you are far from there, and no one would dare to touch you any more.”

He gave me a strange look after my words, but said nothing.

“You are here now and I need your help,” I went on.

“Help?”

“Aye. Your wounds have to be cleaned. I will go and get some water out the river…”

“River? Is there the river? A cool bath would be more to my liking,” he squeezed my hand beggarly.

‘And why not?’ I thought. ‘Damrod said that the water in the river is crystal-clear and healing.’ And he looked at me so expressive that I have no chance to refuse.

“Can you move?”

“Aye!” he answered, gratefully accepting my hand for support. “I have had no sight of a river for very long time.”

We slowly went towards the bank. It was very dark already, but the moon highlighted the river under our feet. The air was amazingly warm, and somewhere not far from us a nightly bird was piping its song.

When our bare feet touched the water, Faramir uncertainly looked at me and said, “I fear I cannot compel myself to go into water dressed.”

“Where is nothing to worry about,” I smiled at him crookedly, beginning to undress.

“I am not the lover to take a bath clothed either.”

The water was cold, but it did not matter to him. For the first time in so many years he felt free and wishing to live again. The air was fragrant with herbs, and soft rustle of water cherished his ailing skin. He sensed the life-giving strength spreading through his veins.

He entered the water closing his eyes.

“How various life is,” he said quietly, thoughtfully. “You can live in a cell aching out a miserable existence, but life will take its normal course. Birds will always pipe their songs, rivers – carry their waters, the sun – illuminate the horizon from the east every morning… Only now I have understood how hardly I missed it”.

“And this life is opened to you again, Faramir,” I answered, approaching him from behind. I watched him, standing in the water up to his waist, being lighted by the moon, and painfully wanted to touch him. I reached out my hand, and he startled from the light contact, but did not move away. In a desperate wish to overcome uneasiness, originating with my touch, I carefully began cleaning dirt and dried blood from his back. I became aware of his emotions – for the first time in the last years another’s hands did not hurt him, make him no bit of pain. And when he moved back into my embrace I lovingly pressed him to me. I knew he needed it now, needed to feel a little safety, and I was ready to give it to him. I would do everything to heal his wounds from his body just as from his soul. If only all were so easy!

“Call me Aragorn if you wish,” I whispered into his ear.

“Aragorn…” he repeated and I carefully slipped my arm along his hand avoiding his wounds. Our fingers interlaced, and I lead him further into the deep water.

Faramir powerlessly hung his head back on the water’s surface. How he wanted to forget all that he had endured, hearing only the soft stream in his ears! And how long since his hair had had a possibility to be taken a dip into the water!

I began to cleanse them. My fingers were slipping through the moist strands, washing them out, when Faramir turned around. His eyes were shining with irregular light under the brightness of the moon, and suddenly all pain vented into the soundless sobs. I pressed him to me, stroking his head, covering with kisses, whispering, “Cry, Faramir, son of Gondor. Let your pain leave you.”

And I knew that he never had allowed himself to shed even one tear during his stay in Harad. If he had, he wouldn’t have survived all of this.

I carried him into the cave. He was haggard and tired from his own sobs that poured out his tormented soul. His blue eyes were looking at me silently when I covered him with a cloak. They said to me more than any words could say.

I gave him an encouraging smile, passing my hand over his cheek, and understood suddenly what feeling stirred deep in my heart for. But I still had no strength to call it by its true name.

I woke up from a scream. Swiftly jumping up to my feet, I moved towards Faramir. But when I tried to calm him down, embracing him, he pushed me away so sharp that if not my arm, putting under, I would have fallen onto my back. Falling I cried his name in a loud voice, and at once he awoke.

He looked at me with wide eyes. But having understood what had happened, he nervously said, “Aragorn. Forgive me. I did not want to shove you. I dreamed that I was fighting with someone.”

“Do not apologize,” I said trying to take his hand, but he suddenly withdrew, giving me a guilty look.

“Forgive me. But I need the time to come to my senses again.”

And I understood. The previous evening helped him relaxing a little, but now his ghosts had come back. They were still too close. And I could not refuse it to him.

Under the rays of the sun his skin began to gain the healthy aureate shine again, replacing paleness; the hair flied up from the least wind, having become light and soft afresh, and he shook constantly his head, throwing the disobedient curls back; the body fast recreated with an influence of normal food that, at last, his exhausted stomach began accepting.

For days on end he was sitting on a big white stone next to river, staring through the forest. Squirrels were leaping from the ones branches to others, going down sometimes and sneaking to him totally close; birds – were twittering merrily; even sun glares were playfully glittering on the surface of water. But all of these did not give pleasure to Faramir. Alas, he looked but did not see. He listened but did not hear. He became aware but did not feel.

He was deep in his thoughts, wondering through the darkest corners of his soul. I knew he had to go through this by himself. ‘If he does not pass it over, no one will help him. If he does not forgive himself for what he had done, no one will force to do it.’

So the days passed.

He did not push me away any longer and submitted like a lamb, when I had to examine his wounds. Understanding, however, what it cost him, I tried not to touch him without need. No one was ever dearest to me than he was. Never had I felt the pain of another man so agonizingly. And all his appearance illuminated with pain. Not body’s pain, for like a water acting upon the plain, a liberty affected upon him beneficially, but soul’s pain. I became aware of it in his every gaze, every sigh. It happened when a fleeting shadow darkened his light eyes, and my own body began thrilling painfully, or when a soft, hardly audible sigh flied off his leaps, and it affected me like an icy wind across the heated skin. And his eyes looked so tired.

I wondered how old he was. About thirty? No! The youngest son of Denethor could not be thirty. Twenty six? Twenty seven? It did not matter. His eyes looked too exhausted, too wise.

It happened at night. Some days passed without any words, and it was so hard to me as never. I was lying in the darkness when he stirred. I heard the movement towards me, and his hands touched my bare chest. Then I understood that he had gained even that fight – the fight with himself.

“Aragorn,” he whispered, leaning over me. His soft locks slipped over my neck. “May I…”

I give him no chance to complete his phrase. I pressed him to me only, having strongly entwined with my hands. Then I found his lips, soft and warm, opening under my pressure. I kissed him effusively, like a thirsty one would drink water. My arms stroked his back, pressing his hips to mine. He was so delectable yielding in my hands that I could not hold myself anymore. Turning him carefully over his back I began covering his chest with kisses, avoiding the still healing bruises. His nipples changed into small hard beads under the pressing of my searching fingers, but my lips moved down.

A soft moan flied from his mouth when my arm touched his semi-aroused erection. I started to caress him, arousing more while my lips made a hot kisses’ path down to his belly. Never had I done it before and now I wanted it so mush as never had dreamed of.

My lips touched his manhood, and he took a convulsive sigh, having shivered.

I took him into my mouth, and his breath became interrupted and heavy. I knew his eyes were wide opened now, and he caught an air brokenly. I wanted him to be much better and began methodical movements up and down. Joining my acts he commenced slowly moving his hips.

I felt he was close when he shrank his buttocks and accepted his release into my mouth. I would do everything for him.

Shivers ran through his body and I lied on top of him, warming. My lips touched his neck, and I found his mouth once again, having gently bit his lower lip. His hand slipped down along my body, but I stopped him, not wishing to lead him through this again. Still, at least. I became aware that he stared at me in the darkness in misunderstanding. Kissed his hand I whispered, “Not now… You will have time to do it yet… Rest now.”

He awoke in my embrace in the morning. So warm and unprotected he looked that it was hard to imagine him rush about the arena with a bloody blade in his hand. I reached for his cheek with my arm, and my lips parted a little wishing to say any words, but remained silent. However, it seemed to me that they said all what needed for he smiled suddenly.

“Good morning.” Faramir whispered burying his nose into my hairs. I smiled in return.

“You look nearly healthy today,” I teased him, and he gave me a look again.

“Good news,” he answered seriously. “Perhaps because of a good dream I have seen.”

“Hmm… What dream?”

“That one very strange mysterious man came and saved my life.”

I grinned from his words, but then became earnest again. Sitting up I said, “We need to go further. Do you feel yourself healthy enough to endure the riding?”

Faramir looked at me so sadly that I regretted my words. He seemed so happy a few minutes ago and now he was mournful again. Wishing to return his good mood I drew him to me, pressing his cheek to mine.

“Nay, I think we could leave here a bit longer,” I whispered into his ear.

“Do you not think that the Haradrims will find us?” Faramir asked, having kept away a little.

“If they could, they would have found us already,” I answered thoughtfully.

“You are so kind to me, Aragorn. Why?” he asked suddenly, observing me with his clear eyes. “I see high generosity in your heart, alien to the cruel plays of the Haradrims. And you saw me doing those terrible things…”

“Did you have a choice, Faramir?” I asked in return, lifting up my brow.

“Choice? Aye, I had a choice, more over – choices.”

“Choices?” I stared at him in mute amazement.

“Aye. At first I was suggested to disavow Gondor, to openly come over to the Haradrims’ side and accept an official standing to willingly become the lover of Ismail,” he laughed softly. “Why he wanted it I do not know. But he said, “Gondor forbade you to return to your home, and I can give you all what you want.” I refused and became a pleasure slave.” He kept silence for a moment but proceeded at last. “And then I had an ocean of possibilities to die during the fights. But I used no one.”

“Why so, Faramir?”

He shrugged a little.

“Because of my brother…” he said thoughtfully.

“Brother?”

“Yes, my elder brother. So many times I had thought about finishing it all, for never had I felt such hatred towards myself. And every time it was only the thoughts of my brother that stopped me. Because I saw it in his eyes, as he looked after me leaving Minas Tirith, that he will be alive as long as I will. I swore then that I would endure everything that would fall to my lot, for my brother’s sake”

“Good!” I exclaimed suddenly, grasping his hands. He gave me an uncomprehending look, but I said no word any more. I felt absurd happily for Faramir had a brother. ‘He kept you for me,’ I thought, looking in his eyes.

Minas Tirith, several months earlier

Boromir was hysterical again. Denethor understood it because of an endless noise that was worn out from his chamber – the noise from broken things and throwing to and fro. ‘How long it will be going on?’ Denethor thought, tiredly arising from the bed. Even now, some years after Faramir’s departure, Boromir had no peace.

He was drunk. Tears were running down his face and in impotence, in desperation he crushed everything that came across his hands. He wondered how he had managed not to show his feelings before his people, when he received the news from Harad.

He stood motionless the moment his father opened the door.

“I hate you!” he whispered in a low trembling voice. “I hate you! I curse the day of my birth! How could you do this towards Faramir?!” And then he pushed himself into Denethor’s embrace, shaking from the sobs.

Denethor hated himself as well. But at the same time he felt a great pride in his youngest son… for his strength and firmness.

“Are you ready?”

“Aye,” Faramir answered, taking a view of the place where we had some peaceful days.

We approached our horse and he laughed suddenly merrily.

“Faramir?”

He shook his head and gave me a meaningful look. His eyes shined.

“A miserable beast! How heavy it must be carrying us both!”

I laughed about his remark.

“Well, he fulfilled his duties in a worthy manner last time. So I hope he will proceed doing it, but not so long. We will exchange him for two horses as soon as it’s possible.”

“It is a pity to exchange such a fitting servant.” Faramir answered, lovingly smoothing the horse’s mane with his hand. Then he easily flied up above his back.

I followed him, placing myself behind, and we started out.

We were on our way nearly the whole day. All settlements stayed far from the paths being hold by us, so no one was met.

The sun was setting down quickly, and I felt terribly tired. But knowing that the village was close, I did not stop.

I leant forward a little for asking Faramir about his mood but find he was asleep. To make him more comfortable I pressed him to me, and his head lowered back on my shoulder. Shiver ran through me as I heard a soft sigh that flied from his lips. And yet again I felt as my heart was ready to tear to the many pieces from the overfilling sensations. My lips slipped along his neck, delightfully caressing its skin, and Faramir’s breath became smoother. He bent his head a little aside, giving me more expanses for kisses, and it made me forget about the necessity to manage a horse. My hands moved around his belly, leaving the reins, and I gave no attention that one of them caught on the metallic plaque on my sleeve. The horse moved sharply his head and I put my hand quickly back for support, and that made the beast to rear a little. If it was not freed rein, we would fall on to the ground. But the rein released and the hoarse headily moved forward. I grasped Faramir’s waist and breathed with relief when he, suddenly waking up, gripped the reins, demonstrating me his amazing reaction.

“What was it, Aragorn?” he exclaimed, taking a hurried breath. And when he turned half his head I thought abruptly that this dangerous action was entirely worthy of that excited look he gave me. But I was being answered. So, accepting the reins from his hands again, I tried to distract him, “You were dreaming…”

“Dreaming? Aye… I was in Osgiliath…” He forgot about the incident, going deep into his thought. “It was burning,” he breathed brokenly but possessed himself at once. “Where are we now?”

“In some leagues we are going to arrive to the settlement where we will exchange our horse. Nearby it, I hope, we can find the rest.”

The settlement truly appeared soon in a low place between the mountains. When we neared it, the dusk already wrapped the subsided world. Having left Faramir in a small wood, I went to seek a house that Damrod had mentioned on.

The Haradrim, the host of the house, looked at me suspiciously, but hearing Damrod’s name his face softened. He gave me two horses without the redundant questions and told about soldiers who had visited the village two days ago. He said that they looked in every house but having no success went out.

The moon was on the wane and the darkness reigned in the grove. Looking about, I could see no sign of life. I tied horses to a tree and came to look for Faramir. Fear took hold of all my being as I heard no answer to my soft call. I made several steps deep into the grove and stayed, listening to nightly rustles. And my body straightened as a sharp blade touched my back.

“Aragorn?” The voice was suspect and cold, but I relaxed recognizing it. How could he approach me so soundless?

“Faramir,” I sighed turning around. He stood before me, high and proud, as it seemed. But reaching out to him, I felt he was trembling. “You are trembling. What happened?”

He brought his hand to his face, closing eyes.

“I fell asleep… And again these dead faces appeared before me… Oh, Aragorn, I think that I never can forget them… distorted with pain, with pleading eyes. And then the horrible figure of Ismail froze near to me. I probably awoke in that very moment and heard the crackle of branches… Forgive me. I did not recognize you at once.”

I caught the notes of sobs in his voice and embraced him. He pressed himself against my chest with gratefulness and his lips lightly touched my neck. Yielding to desire growing within my body, I began feverishly smoothing his back while my mouth found his lips. He answered me without hesitation, and our kiss became more passionate and impetuous, like a kiss shared by two longing for one another people. We knelt, never taking off our kiss, and his searching fingers slipped under my tunic, sending waves of shiver along my spine. Having no strength to hold myself any longer I quickly took my cloak and tunic off, then did the same with his, and our hot bodies poured together. I felt his desire when he pressed his hips to mine, and our aroused erections got in touch. I brought him down on my cloak with convulsive sigh and started to untie the laces of his breeches while he tried to undo mine. The sighs of relieve flied up from our lips at the same time as the breeches did not tighten our lower bodies any more.

We were lying on our sides, kissing without a break, whereas our hands caressing one another. I felt with a sinking heart how his fingers moved along my member sometimes pressing hard, sometimes gently circling his aroused head. And squeezing his erection with my own hand I suddenly dreamily thought how it would feel having it inside me. However his next words gave me no chance to consider my thought.

“Take me,” he whispered through the kiss.

“No!”

“Take me!” Faramir repeated emphatically. “I want it.”

“No!” I said again, clenching my teeth. Never would I dare to take him after seeing what that Haradric prince had done to him.

“Aragorn,” he said, sharply pressing my back to the ground, “for five long years I was taken without my will, and the hatred of these people pierced me through. But now when I ask you to do it, you deny me. You do not hate me, Aragorn, do you?”

“I love you,” I said suddenly and was astounded with my own words.

“It is well,” I felt he gave me an encouraging smile in the darkness, “because I love you too. I feel power and confidence when you touch me and I want these sensations to fill me completely. Take me!”

It was no request any more, it was an order. But it did not matter to me anymore for I truly craved and loved him madly.

I turned him above his back and began passionately fondling. My hands slipped above his chest and lips moved lower. Never had I done it before, but my affection prompted me what to do. Licking my fingers I started preparing him to my intrusion slowly, carefully, and was ready to stop when he exerted. But he whispered, “Go on.” And I went on.

Assaulted his lips I carefully entered him. Oh, how tight and hot he was! I could not imagine how I could endure so long. I moved smoothly, urging him to relax, and, relaxing, he accepted me entirely. In a last thrust I came into him, and my hand steeped with his release.

My chest rose heavily and brokenly, and I had not ever thought before that it is possible to love so. And I loved him more than life.

Embracing him strongly, I whispered, “I love you! I want to belong to you too.”

So fascinated he looked sleeping in such a manner – on his back, half-covered, with closed eyes in the false dawn. I studied him leaning on my elbow, and my hand lightly slipped along his bare chest. I touched his neck and thought how soft and sensitive it was. His hair… ‘I adore them. They mesmerize me with their shine. It remains me the brilliance of noble gold. Eyelashes… Always I will think of the eyes they cover – the eyes as deep as sea is and as clear as sky. Always seeing in the sky I will remember you … ‘

This thought broke the sweetness of that moment off. I had to leave. Somewhere on the north Gandalf waited for me, and more important – Arwen waited. But I was here and, by Valar, I would give all I have for staying with him. But the irony of it was that I could not. Alas. I had no strength to leave Harad without him at first and now, when he was here at last, I had to leave him.

Carefully moving away I set up. My eyes were turned to the silver-plated sky on the east. ‘How can I say it to him?’

“You have to go away, do you not?” A soft voice sounded suddenly in stillness. I gazed at Faramir. I woke him with my movements, probably… But how clear he read my heart!

“Aye,” I said simply, and he understood all without further explanations.

And now we were standing here, on the border of Gondor. Far away a small group of Gondorian riders moved towards us.

Feeling as the last remainder of determination began leaving me I approached Faramir from behind and enclosed him in my embrace. I knew that if I stay with him a bit longer I cannot leave him at all.

“I love you…” I whispered as my lips slid over his ear. ‘My dearest… ‘

He said nothing, only turned around in the ring of my hands and looked at me with his expressive eyes. I gazed into them and saw there what I believed to see one day – hope. And a question… and an answer at once. ‘Yes, Faramir, I will be back.’ My glance said to him in return while my lips touched his with one slight, full of promises gentleness for the last time. ‘I will return when the last hope leaves you.’

And leaving my heart with him I went away.

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