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Darkness and Light (NC-17) Print

Written by Lilith and Minx

29 March 2004 | 29486 words

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CHAPTER FOUR

The sun was still bright when the travellers neared the road to the Gates. The closer they came, the more intense was the cold fear in Aragorn's heart. He dreaded to think what they might find. He would not even consider the possibility that they might not find Faramir at all. They had to find him. There was so much Aragorn needed to tell him, so much that he only now realised.

They walked cautiously, aware that the Orcs and other foul creatures would be on the alert for intruders. As they made their way through a clump of fir trees, Rúmil halted suddenly.

"What is it?" Gimli asked.

"There is someone leaving the Gates. Is that your companion, Aragorn? He seems to be searching for someone!"

Aragorn pushed through the rough branches eagerly, and then stopped.

"No," he said slowly, as he watched the cloakless stranger wander down the mountain.

"But who can he be?" Gimli wondered aloud, "In Moria, where all fear to go but for the Enemy's minions?"

"The Enemy has many servants," Haldir reminded him. "Come, let us search for your friend and leave this place. I do not wish to encounter more of our foes!"

They moved quickly once they reached the road. Up ancient stone steps they climbed, through the Great Gates and into the large hall where the fellowship had last encountered the Orc guards. Aragorn shook his head, hearing Faramir's last cries, but now only their footsteps echoed in the empty chamber.

"Let us search this way," Aragorn said, trying to keep his voice steady as he entered the passage leading from the hall into the mines. A few shafts of light lit the way.

"How will we know where to look for him?" Rúmil murmured, staring down the passage.

A small recess stood just at the other end of the hall, and it occurred to Haldir that there could easily be an Orc or two hidden there, ready to spring on them unawares. Silencing the others with a wave, the elf moved forward silently. Clutching his knife in one hand, he cautiously peered into the little alcove. He saw a bundle of cloth stashed inside. Cloth or a clever Uruk? he wondered, taking a step closer.

The others joined him curiously, wondering what was taking him so long.

Haldir reached for the strange shape, with Rúmil at his side ready to defend his brother. Nothing happened. His hand landed on the bundle and he realised that it indeed covered a live creature, albeit not an Orc, and certainly not one who could move, much less attack them. He gently tugged the still form out from the cramped space and, with Rúmil's help, laid him on the floor of the hall.

"Faramir!" Aragorn exclaimed as the cloak fell away, revealing dark hair and a pale, bruised face. He rushed forward and knelt by the prone figure, reaching out to touch him so he could convince himself it was no illusion.

"He's alive," Aragorn said, breathing rapidly as relief flooded through him, and made to gather him in his arms.

"Careful," Haldir advised. "He is badly injured."

He looked curiously at the bundle that was the young man they had returned for. All he could see was matted black hair and handsome features, albeit marred by marks.

Aragorn carefully raised Faramir's limp body into his arms. A clunking sound rang out as the feet were dragged ahead.

"He's shackled," Rúmil gasped.

"Is he all right?" Gimli asked worriedly.

The cloak fell open, revealing the half-naked body underneath, the chains on his wrists and ankles. There was a collective gasp as the half-healed wounds on his torso were revealed. With deliberately calm movements, Aragorn lifted the cloak to examine Faramir's abused back. He shut his eyes and swallowed hard at what he saw. Whip marks ran crisscross from his shoulder to hips. Some of the welts were still streaked with blood. There were clear signs of claw marks all over his body, and in a few places, even bites. The filthy blanket still covered Faramir's lower body, a strangely incongruous sight. An uneasy silence fell over the group.

Shifting Faramir so as to not hurt him further, Aragorn slowly unwound the blanket and let out a strangled sound. The man's waist, hips, and buttocks were covered in scratches and finger-shaped bruises, a mix of black, blue and purple. An ugly gash ran down his inner thigh. It was healing but obviously painful.

But what induced Aragorn's cry were the flecks of blood standing out against the paleness of the young man's legs. There was no doubt in the minds of the horrified rescuers as to what the young man had been subjected to. Tears glistened in Aragorn's eyes as he cradled the naked form, battered and broken, the shackles around his wrists and ankles making him seem all the more pathetic.

Haldir stared unmoving for a few seconds. He felt extremely angry. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to hunt down the creatures that had used this man so foully. How Faramir had survived after three days in the clutches of Sauron's servants he could not imagine. He must have known the risks if he had voluntarily stayed at the rear, and yet he had done so for the sake of his companions. What little Haldir knew of men had always shown them to be weak and selfish creatures. Faramir, he could see, was the exception.

He gripped his bow tight and rose. Rúmil and Gimli stared up at him. The dwarf's face expressed sorrow and anger, and he wasn't surprised to see that even his brother was moved by Faramir's plight.

"We must leave," Haldir said. "It shall be dark soon, and we must be as far from the mines as we can before that. Faramir needs tending to. I think we will have to rest for a while tonight. He may not be able to withstand travelling for long periods."

He looked towards Aragorn as he concluded. Aragorn nodded dully, and slowly made to rise, still holding Faramir. Haldir stepped forward to help.

"The shackles," Gimli began, gripping the handle of his axe.

"When we halt for the night," Haldir suggested, as he took Faramir from Aragorn's arms.

Rúmil picked up the riding cloak but discarded the filthy blanket.

"It is not his cloak," Aragorn said firmly. He started to unclasp his own mantle, but Haldir stopped him.

"I have a spare cloak in my pack," he suggested, "It will be softer."

Once they had wrapped the unconscious man in the soft elven mantle, Aragorn once again took him in his arms. Haldir thought of protesting – Aragorn was obviously tired – but he didn't. Seeing the look of determination, coupled with the fierce love in the grey eyes, he resolved to take over only at Aragorn's request.


The rescue party did not stop until they were some distance from Moria. Already the sun dipped low, for their progress had been slow. Aragorn and Gimli were both tired. The man had stubbornly carried Faramir almost all the way, only relinquishing him to Haldir for the last half-mile or so.

It was obvious they could not carry on further, as tired as they all were, and Faramir's injuries desperately needed to be tended, so they stopped at a small dell that the seven companions had used three days earlier.

They laid Faramir facedown on a cloak. He had still not woken up, and that in itself was beginning to worry them. Gimli and Haldir set to work removing the shackles.

Rúmil gathered wood for a small fire while Aragorn rummaged through his pack for his healing herbs. Most of his athelas had been used up treating the others, but he had some other herbs that would provide a little relief – very little though, he feared, for Faramir's injuries were extensive.

He picked up the herbs and knelt by Faramir, taking in the exposed wrists and ankles, reddened and scraped. Using a wet cloth, Haldir and he began cleaning Faramir's injuries. Then Aragorn made a paste from the herbs and they spread them over the worst of the wounds, while Rúmil and Gimli scrounged up some food from their packs.

"You were right," Haldir said suddenly breaking the silence they worked in.

Aragorn looked up puzzled as he spread the last of the paste on the jagged gash on Faramir's thigh.

"He is indeed very valiant. He obviously fought hard to stay alive."

Aragorn was about to respond, when a soft sound turned their attention towards their patient.

"He's waking!" Aragorn said in relief.

Faramir came awake, feeling cold and aching all over. He heard voices above him, one of which sounded very familiar. He realised he was lying naked on his stomach, with his legs splayed apart, and a hand resting on the tender wound in his inside thigh.

No! he screamed in his mind, and tried to struggle. Pain shot through his body as he moved, and he moaned loudly.

"Faramir!"

Hands came to rest on his hands and legs and he panicked. Ignoring the intense pain running up his lower back, he scrambled onto his knees, pushing away the restraining hands. There was something soft under him, he realised belatedly, as he edged away, pulling his knees to his chest.

Cool air hit his face. Cool, fresh air. He was outside! Surely, this was another vision! He moaned again. He could not endure more of this. He did not want to be told yet again to trust Gríma. The man always hurt him. He was dangerous, Faramir knew, and he wanted to take him to Saruman. A shadow fell over him and he raised his head to see someone in front of him.

"No!" he sobbed hoarsely, "I won't trust him. He'll hurt me! Leave me. Go away."

"Faramir!" the voice broke through his scattered thoughts, and he realised with a gasp who it was leaning over him.

"Aragorn!" he gasped, "No, not again! Please!" He edged further away, the pain of his movements turning his words into a squeal.

"Faramir, it is all right," Aragorn spoke as calmly as he could manage. "I am here now. You are safe."

"No, you lie! You're dead. Go away! Leave me be."

In his pain-riddled state Faramir could hear none of the concern and fear in Aragorn's voice. All he heard was the earlier denouncement of his weakness and failure. He had been responsible for Aragorn's death. He had let down Gondor by not saving its King. He sobbed louder – harsh, rasping sounds. This could not be Aragorn, and even if it was, Aragorn hated him. He was inept and unworthy and a coward.


Haldir had been overjoyed when he, like Aragorn, realised Faramir was awakening. Calling out to Rúmil to bring some water, he had helped Aragorn hold the young man down to prevent him from hurting himself. He was surprised to see Faramir react by struggling out of their grasp.

Aragorn reached for the young man, but Faramir slid away from him, shouting and sobbing all the while.

"No, Aragorn, you're scaring him," Haldir said urgently, as Aragorn tried to coax Faramir back.

The elf gracefully moved forward, and kneeling by the frantic figure, wrapped his long arms around him, pulling him close.

Faramir felt something soft wrapped around him. He raised his frightened eyes and took in the sight of a beautiful, fair face, pure and noble in mien.

"Hush, child, it is all right. You are well," a tender voice said in his ear. The very sound of that voice calmed him, its gentle tones soothing his frayed nerves.

"Help me, please!" he begged tearfully, collapsing against Haldir's chest from pain and exhaustion.

Haldir looked up to see the others standing around him. Gimli and Rúmil sported worried expressions, but Aragorn looked positively distraught.

"He was barely awake," he said soothingly. "He did not know you."

Aragorn stared at Faramir, unhappily swallowing the pain of rejection as Haldir gently wrapped the elven cloak around the Gondorian's shoulders and dropped a kiss on the dark head.


Gríma stalked back into the hall. "Damn horse," he muttered to himself. The foul smells of the Orcs had spooked it, and it would not come anywhere near the Gates. Hopefully the man could walk now, else he would have to be dragged some ways down the mountain.

He suddenly stopped when he saw the blanket and his cloak lying discarded on the ground. The man was not in sight.

"Damn Uruk-hai!" Gríma cursed aloud, the words echoing in the empty chamber as he sank to the floor. Now he must return to Isengard empty-handed. Lurtz had probably already sent news there, and Master would not be pleased that he had lost the prize.

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

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7 Comment(s)

I loved the way Faramir went from someone scared out of his wits to someone so loving. Keep up the good work.

— balrog    Thursday 28 June 2007, 10:15    #

Oh man, I’m probably going to hell for liking this! :)

— Luthien    Monday 7 January 2008, 8:15    #

This is one of my favorites to read with Faramir’s courage. I would recommend it to all. Thanks

— balrog    Tuesday 3 March 2009, 5:30    #

Thank you Balrog!:)

— Minx    Sunday 8 March 2009, 18:09    #

read it twice, love it.Great work. Hope you write more Faramir-Haldir work. :-)

— blondie    Saturday 14 December 2013, 19:10    #

@blondie: Thank you so much. Good to hear you liked reading this. Lilith has written a few sequels to this, and I hope you were able to read those too.

Minx    Wednesday 1 January 2014, 14:45    #

Loved it, whats is the name of the sequels,,,have you other faramir haldir yourself, its great

Line    Wednesday 4 November 2015, 13:46    #

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