Faramir Fiction Archive

Darkness and Light (NC-17)

Written by Lilith and Minx

29 March 2004 | 29486 words

CHAPTER SEVEN

The sun was just creeping above the eastern horizon when Aragorn awoke. He stretched his arms over his head, gazing around at the beds that held his companions. Legolas was gone – the elf had probably been up for hours – but the others were sleeping peacefully. A smile flickered across his face as he enjoyed the moment of tranquillity before forcing his mind to more serious things.

The last two weeks had passed quickly. Faramir was growing stronger every day, and Aragorn even thought he saw signs that the young man was starting to open up to him more. They read together every day, and after reading the Lay of Nimrodel together it had become something of a habit for them to crawl into bed to read. It was all very innocent, and at the same time intoxicating. They were always clothed, separated by bedcovers, but Aragorn thrilled at the touch of the other man's body running the full length of his. He often fought his urge to hold him closer, forcing himself to concentrate on his reading. Faramir often interrupted their reading to question intriguing passages, and it was embarrassing when he couldn't answer because his thoughts had strayed to the heat of the young man's arm, to a wisp of his dark hair.

Still his recovery was not complete. His nightmares still came – less frequently, to be sure, but when they did Faramir still turned to Haldir for comfort. Strangely, as Faramir grew physically stronger, the elf was becoming more concerned about the emotional trauma he had suffered. He seemed to be increasingly protective too. Aragorn recalled the cold glare he'd recently received when Haldir had interrupted their reading. In a very disapproving tone he had been reminded that Faramir needed his rest, and that he was only delaying his progress. For some reason he had even felt guilty for a few moments, until these feelings turned to anger at the elf's possessiveness.

Aragorn shook his head to clear away these jealous thoughts. The important thing was that he be there for Faramir as much as he could. And that meant he needed to pull himself out of bed. He dressed soundlessly and raced up the steps towards Faramir's pavilion. Just as he'd suspected, Haldir was already there. The man was sound asleep, the elf solemnly gazing down at him with a gentle smile.

Standing in the open doorway, Aragorn called out softly, "Good morning, Haldir. How is my Faramir doing today?"

The possessive question did not escape the elf's awareness, and a shadow flickered across his emerald eyes. "Our patient has not yet awoken. I hope that he will sleep a while longer. Shall I call you later to see him?"

Aragorn bristled at this dismissal. Haldir seemed to be increasingly protective of Faramir, even to the point of restricting his access to him. Still, the elf was probably right. The young man did need to sleep, especially peacefully like this, undisturbed by his nightmares. "Very well, then," he replied. "I will return after breakfast."

The ranger braced his shoulders as he walked away, unwilling to reveal any sign of his discomfort to the elf. He need not have bothered. As soon as Aragorn turned to leave, Haldir returned to the patient's bedside, seeing nothing but the peaceful sleeping face encircled by soft wisps of dark hair.

---

Legolas had noticed Aragorn's increasing unrest, but had been unable to find the right time to approach him. Seeing him standing alone by the fountain, before the hobbits woke up and demanded his attention, he decided there was no better time.

"You seem troubled of late, friend. Do you care to talk about it?"

Aragorn sighed. "Are my feelings that obvious?"

"No, but you could never hide them from me. Nor must you. Perhaps I can help with your burden," Legolas said gently.

"Nay, there is little you can do. It is Faramir. I fear for his recovery."

"Faramir's body is mending quickly. Just yesterday he walked all the way to the Celebrant and back with the hobbits. In a few more weeks he should be fit for travel."

"He still has nightmares –"

Legolas interrupted, "And they are lessening. You know that his mind will take longer to heal. We cannot begin to imagine the horrors he must have faced in Moria."

"I know he needs time to recover fully. But when I am with him, I can tell he is holding something back. I can still sense a darkness in his heart."

"That is to be expected. Healing is not a straightforward process. Even the elves do not fully understand its intricacies."

Aragorn snorted at that. "Haldir certainly seems to believe he has mastered it."

Legolas regarded his friend in silence for a moment. Then he asked, "Is Haldir the real problem here, rather than Faramir?"

"He won't even let me in to see him!" Aragorn said angrily. "The guardian of Lórien has become the guardian of Faramir's bedchamber, and I must supplicate myself to even catch a glimpse of him."

"Haldir is doing what he thinks best for Faramir, you know that."

"Yes, I do know that. And in my heart I do appreciate it. Frankly I am surprised that he is so concerned for a mortal man, as he seems to hold us in contempt so much of the time. But how is he so sure that what he does is best? I am a man, and I do know something of healing myself. That alone should give me some say in what is best for Faramir."

Aragorn shook his head at this. "Listen to me, Legolas. I sound like a petulant child, whining because I do not get my way. But I cannot help myself. My heart aches to be with him. There is so much I need to say to him, so much that I want to do for him, and yet I am barred from his door."

"Perhaps you would have me speak with Haldir?" Legolas proffered.

"Nay, Legolas, there is no need for that," Aragorn said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Haldir always speaks of patience as the key to healing. I will try to respect that for now."

At that moment Rúmil approached the fountain, bowing as he reached the two friends. "The Lady requests your company," he said to Aragorn. "She has something that she wishes you to see concerning your journey."

"I will come with you," said Legolas.

"No, that is not the Lady's wish," Rúmil said firmly. "Her words are for the leader of the fellowship alone."

"I am sorry you cannot join me, my friend," Aragorn said, clasping Legolas' hand in his own. "I knew the day would come when the Lady would call me to her, and I both welcome and dread her words. I would have you by my side, but as that is not the Lady's wish, I would have you do something else for me."

"I will do whatever you ask me to do."

"I told Haldir I would return to watch over Faramir after breakfast. Will you visit with him today in my stead?" A pained expression crossed Aragorn's face as he realised that Faramir might think he had deserted him again.

Legolas squeezed Aragorn's hand tightly. "I am happy to do that, Aragorn. Do not worry for Faramir. I will explain what has happened."

"Thank you," Aragorn said. He turned to Rúmil and said, "I am ready."

---

Rúmil led him toward the wall of Caras Galadhon, finally stopping at an enclosed garden where the Lady Galadriel waited. She wore a shimmering gown of white, her golden hair resplendent as it cascaded down onto her shoulders. Aragorn drew himself up to his full height as he approached so he could meet her eyes.

"Hiril nín," he said, bowing his head.

The Lady bowed in return, but spoke not a word as she beckoned to him to follow. She led him soundlessly through the garden to a staircase that wound down into a darkened hollow. The morning sun was veiled from this place, and the air was very still. In the shadows Aragorn could make out a glistening silver basin sitting atop a low pedestal. With infinite grace, the Lady filled a pitcher with water from the stream that ran through the hollow, and then poured it into the basin. She waited silently until the water was still.

Aragorn quivered involuntarily at the power he sensed. Noticing his movement, the Lady held out her hand and guided him to stand beside the basin. Her touch was cool, and her sonorous voice when she spoke filled the hollow.

"This is the Mirror of Galadriel. It will show you what you desire, and that which you do not. Would you look into it?"

Aragorn stepped towards the mirror but did not look down. "There is much that I want to know, but just knowing is not enough. Will the mirror help me change these paths?"

The Lady smiled soberly. "The mirror reveals things that already were, or things that will be, but only you can decide what to do with what you see. Many are content to not look upon these things, for their thoughts are not then haunted. Others must look, hoping that what they see will help show the paths they must take. It is a terrible power, yes. The mirror may guide your actions, but it may bewitch you and prevent you from doing what you must do. In this I cannot counsel you. As the heir of Isildur, I can only offer you the choice to see if you will."

Aragorn weighed her words, already knowing that he could not withstand the temptation of the mirror. He took a deep breath and lowered his eyes towards the mirror. He gasped as the dark surface suddenly flashed, revealing a burning village, people and animals fleeing from hordes of invaders, silently screaming through the glistening water.

---

Faramir was just finishing breakfast when Legolas arrived. He greeted him with a shy smile,looking behind him for Aragorn. When he saw that the elf was alone, a confused expression crossed his face. Legolas took some pleasure in seeing the man obviously searching for someone. Maybe his friend's attentions were not as unrequited as he thought.

"Good morning, Faramir," the elf said brightly. "How are you feeling today?"

"I am better, Legolas, thank you," Faramir said diffidently. Although he had grown accustomed to Haldir's ministrations, he was still not comfortable with others fussing over him.

"Aragorn is not coming today, Haldir. I will look after Faramir so you may rest," Legolas said, the firm tone in his voice brooking no objections.

"I will leave you then," Haldir said. "Is there anything I can get you, Faramir?"

The young man could only shake his head. Aragorn is not coming today. He replayed Legolas' words in his head, slowly taking in their meaning. After a long look, Haldir bowed and left the room.

"Would you like me to open the curtains?" Legolas said, already reaching for the heavy drapes. "It is a lovely day, it will do you good to feel the sun on your face."

Without waiting for an answer the elf circled the room, carefully tying back the draperies around the entire pavilion. A cool breeze swept through the room, scattering pale golden leaves onto Faramir's bed, but he paid them no heed. All he could think of was Aragorn, and what he had done to give offence. *I must have said something wrong,* Faramir thought to himself, scanning his memory for anything that might explain the man's absence. Nothing came to mind, but Faramir knew that meant nothing. He had never meant to offend his father either, yet somehow he had repeatedly managed to do so.

Finally Legolas finished his meticulous work with the curtains and settled himself in the chair beside Faramir's bed. He examined one of the leaves lying before him.

"I always longed to look upon the mallorn-trees of Lórien," Legolas said wistfully. "Alas that it is winter. Would that the quest could go quickly, and I could return to see them in the glory of spring, when the leaves fall and the forest is carpeted in gold."

Lost it his own thoughts, Faramir did not even hear the elf. Or it could just be that Aragorn is fed up with my weakness, he thought miserably. He had tried to push himself harder, to walk further each day, but he was still unable to steady a sword. And when he had begged to hold Rúmil's bow, he had been embarrassed to find he could not even draw back the taut bowstring. He would be less than useless if they continued the quest now, and Aragorn was probably tired of waiting for him.

The elf looked up from his meditations to see Faramir staring glumly out the window, and rebuked himself for forgetting Aragorn's message. The man sitting in bed looked so despondent. "He wanted to come and see you, Faramir," he said quietly.

"Where is he?" Faramir said in a small voice.

"The Lady called for him. She has news of our journey. Aragorn was very sorry that he could not see you before he left."

"This is much more important," Faramir said meekly.

"I am not certain that he thought so," Legolas suggested, his eyes twinkling as he saw a puzzled expression cross the young man's face. "But if the Lady beckons, he must go. Now, tell me your greatest wish and I will try to fulfil it in his stead."

Faramir bit his lip, thinking carefully before he answered. "I want to be strong, Legolas. Can you help me?"

"There are many ways to be strong, my dear friend, and you are already many of those," Legolas said gently. "But I know that you long to be the warrior you once were, and that will take time."

"Time again!" Faramir said with exasperation. We're running out of time! he thought to himself.

Then Legolas had a thought. "Perhaps I can help grant your wish after all. Until you are able to lift your sword again, you might learn to use our elven knives. They are lighter, but just as lethal in close combat. Would you like me to teach you?"

"Oh, yes, I would like that very much!" There was no longer any trace of despair in Faramir's voice, and Legolas was very glad that he had thought of this. He left to collect the weapons while Faramir dressed, and then they spent the rest of the afternoon sparring together. Legolas was right. The light knives were easier for him to handle, and Faramir's lithe body was well suited to the acrobatics of elvish combat. For the first time in weeks he felt his physical power returning and felt new confidence in his battle skills. It was dinnertime before Faramir realised that he had not thought of Moria all day.

---

The dark images in the mirror came mercilessly. The burning village was replaced with scenes of a stone fortress surrounded by legions of Uruk-hai, whose relentless assault breached the walls of the refuge. He saw people running and screaming, fleeing the Orcs vicious attacks. Legolas was shouting frantically for someone, but no one came. He could not see Gimli anywhere. The next vision was of Merry, dressed in a strange riding outfit and lying very still, a dead Uruk stretched across his tiny body. A horrifying winged wraith flashed through the mirror, and Aragorn flinched reflexively. Pippin stood in the wake of the creature, tears streaming down his face as he knelt beside a dead white tree.

Next he saw himself and Faramir in a strange, still valley. He seemed to be blowing a silver horn, summoning a host of spirits who rushed at the two men, their incorporeal bodies brandishing ghostly swords that he knew their own weapons could not defeat. The mirror flashed and now he saw Frodo and Sam clinging helplessly to each other on a rocky crag, their tiny bodies the only life in a river of fire that threatened to engulf them at any moment.

These scenes were suddenly replaced by darkness, in which Aragorn saw a full moon. The moonlight cast a peaceful glow on an ancient mallorn-tree, under which he saw two bare figures lying together in a loving embrace. After so many scenes of destruction Aragorn welcomed this serenity, and fought to bring it into sharper focus. His mind reeled when he saw Haldir embracing Faramir, kissing each other passionately. Faramir's hands held the sides of the elf's face as if drawing him deeper into his kiss. Haldir's arms encircled Faramir's waist, tracing the newly healed scars that Aragorn could still see on his hips. As he watched, Haldir extricated himself from the young man's grasp and began to work his way down his body, gently grazing his neck, then moving lower to tease his nipples with his tongue. The image faded until Aragorn could only see the rapture in Faramir's face, and then that too was gone. The mirror's surface was once again still.

Aragorn finally tore himself away from the mirror, his knees threatening to give way. It took him a moment to get his bearings, and he was surprised at first to see the Lady standing there. "Do you know what it is that I saw?" he asked.

Galadriel shook her head. "I can only see flashes of it, but I can tell that it has greatly troubled you. Remember that what you have seen may not yet have come to pass. Your actions may still change this course."

"There were terrible things, many enemies, more than I had ever imagined."

"Yes, I share those dreams."

"How can we ever hope to stand against them?"

Galadriel smiled gently at him as she replied in Elvish, "There is a reason that you are called Estel. Your destiny is intertwined with that of the elves, and with the hope of Middle-earth. There is much that you will be called upon to do before the end, much that saddens you, but also much that will make your heart light."

"We must leave here immediately," Aragorn said, his last vision still burning in his mind.

"Indeed, the fellowship must leave soon," Galadriel agreed. "Your journey leads far beyond Lórien. But some of your party are not yet ready for that journey." "Faramir is much better. He will be able to travel very soon."

"It is not Faramir I speak of, Aragorn. Those who care for the injured man need healing as well."

The Lady would say no more, only smiling enigmatically as she departed. Aragorn's thoughts were indeed troubled and he took his time returning to Caras Galadhon. Over and over he replayed the mirror's images in his mind. There was death and destruction there, he knew, and little room for hope. The only happiness foretold was Faramir in the arms of another, and that brought Aragorn a pain that threatened to overwhelm him.

They had to leave soon, he knew that. Legolas was right in saying that Faramir needed two more weeks to heal fully. They could spare that much time. Not that he could see how their small company could hold back the waves of evil that the mirror had revealed. No, Aragorn, you will not think of that, he chided himself. *Nothing good can come out of that line of thought. We were there, we were all there.*

Two weeks would give him sufficient time to study the elves' maps and plot their course into Mordor. It will also give Haldir more time with Faramir, he thought grimly.

Hard as he tried, Aragorn could not wipe the image of Faramir's ecstasy from his mind. It was an image that he had long desired to see on the young man's face, but it was one that he had hoped to be the cause of. Haldir could not be attracted to Faramir, could he? Aragorn had to know.

By the time Aragorn made it back to the City of the Trees, it was already dark. He stopped by Faramir's room first, and was surprised to find it empty. Aragorn's heart almost stopped. Is he with Haldir?

Aragorn looked towards the next tree and saw candlelight flickering in Haldir's own pavilion. The guard's house was nearer the bottom of a mallorn-tree, allowing him to exit more quickly. It also made it easier for him to hear sounds from the outside, so Aragorn crept quietly up the few stairs to his doorway. He desperately wanted to look inside, but was equally frightened of what he might find. This is ridiculous, he thought to himself. You're acting like a love-struck maiden. Besides, he reminded himself, the image was under a mallorn-tree, not indoors.

Bracing himself with these thoughts, he silently drew back the curtain in the doorway. Haldir was standing alone, gazing out the open window at the other end of the room. Something about his bearing looked very sad, Aragorn realised, and his heart softened somewhat.

*Well, there is no time like the present,* he thought to himself. Aloud he said, "You love him, don't you?"

Haldir whirled around swiftly. It was rare indeed that someone was able to surprise him, but he had been lost in his thoughts. Thoughts of Faramir, as always. When he saw Aragorn standing there, he grimaced.

"It is not so simple as that," he sighed. "There are things that you will never understand about elves, despite living among us for so many of your mortal years."

"I do not accept that love is something that can only be understood by elves," Aragorn replied with as much dignity as he could muster. All the way back to Caras Galadhon he had resolved that he would not lose his temper with Haldir, he just needed to know where things stood. But the elf's self-assured attitude had never bothered him more than now. His next words made the situation worse.

"Your lives are so short, you want to rush everything," Haldir countered. "You never allow yourself time to think about the consequences of your actions. This was never more true than now. Yes, I love Faramir, and I desire him with all my being." Haldir drew his breath in sharply. He had not expected to speak so freely, yet saying the words he felt liberated. "You say you love him, too, yet you don't want him to heal."

"Who are you to question my love? You are an elf! Not only that, but you are a warden of Lórien. You have met few men, and you have never allowed yourself to befriend any of them. What would you know of how mortals heal – of how they love?"

"I can say only that I have learned something of it in the past few weeks. And I know that only time will bring him any lasting peace."

"I cannot see why Faramir's peace should concern you so much," Aragorn said testily.

---

Faramir had just enjoyed one of the best dinners he'd had in ages. All of the travellers were there, save Aragorn who was apparently still with the Lady, and at first Faramir had found himself grateful for his absence. Aragorn's physical presence had troubled him much of late. Tonight his unused muscles were sore but he was well pleased with his first knife instruction, and he looked forward to just relaxing with his friends.

All his recent trepidation dissipated as he listened to the carefree chatter of the hobbits and the gentle banter of Gimli and Legolas. He found himself laughing heartily more than once, and realised that part of him looked forward to their upcoming travels.

After dinner, they lounged on plush cushions around the fountain, enjoying many goblets of elven wine as Merry and Pippin entertained them with tales of a mushroom hunt with Orophin. Apparently his astute eyes had been no match for the hobbits' instinctual abilities to uncover hidden fungi. They cackled merrily as they mimicked the tall elf's ineffectual efforts to spot mushrooms from afar.

Legolas' valiant attempt to defend the honour of elves was tenderly rebuked by Gimli, and Faramir laughed to think just how far the dwarf and elf had come from their earlier bickering. When Gimli picked up a slice of pear and lovingly fed it to Legolas, the elf licking the stray juices off his fingers, Faramir realised just how far this really was.

Are they lovers? he wondered. His question was answered when Legolas caught his eye and smiled shyly. Feeling himself blush, Faramir quickly turned away. They are! He took a deep drink from his goblet as this thought registered.

The idea pleased him for some reason. He knew that it did not change his estimation of either one. He had been treated to a show of Legolas' skill earlier that day, and would never deign to question the elf's fighting abilities. And Gimli – since their first encounter in Rivendell, Faramir had been impressed with the stalwart dwarf. His courage in leading them through Khazad-Dûm, distraught as he must have been about his kinsmen's fate, was undeniable.

And yet his two friends had turned to each other for comfort. He watched as they whispered together, their teasing now revealed to him as love, and he saw how well matched they were. In a flash it made sense to him, and he realised how glad he was that they had been able to find each other.

Faramir thought of the visions that now came to him several times each day. Always he was making love to Aragorn or Haldir, and being loved in return. Their touches were so gentle, their kisses so sweet, and the feelings they caused were so real that they left Faramir aching with need afterwards. It was getting harder and harder to wipe these images from his mind. And he didn't want to. These feelings were unrequited, he was sure. For his kindness alone, Faramir would have loved him, but he knew the elf would never think of a mere man that way. His beauty was so far beyond anything Faramir had ever imagined.

It was even harder with Aragorn. When Faramir dreamed of the ranger, he felt his body completing the union that his mind had already begun. He knew he loved Aragorn – had known it since that first day in Rivendell when they met. Faramir felt that his entire life had led to that moment – nay, not just his life, but also the lives of his forefathers as far back as Húrin. He had pledged to serve the king then, and had meant it with all his heart. In the weeks since his feelings had grown ever stronger, tinged with a passion that he had fought to deny.

Could it be that these feelings are not wrong? Faramir wondered. At first he had thought the visions were signs of his depraved mind, remnants of what the Uruks and Gríma had done to him. But what he felt was entirely different than what had happened in Moria. There had been no love there; he had been used foully, against his will. The images he now saw were different. He was giving himself willingly, and taking what he needed in return.

His next thought was even more startling. Could it be that I do not have to deny my feelings? If Legolas and Gimli were indeed lovers, then maybe it wasn't unheard of for males to lie together in peacetime. If this were true, might his feelings also be accepted by Aragorn?

As he pondered these questions, he felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders. Suddenly he missed Aragorn's presence and decided to try to find him. He wasn't sure yet whether he would be able to share what he had discovered tonight, but he felt sorely in need of the man's company, even if he would only sit beside him for a little while.

Faramir felt strangely light as he bade the others goodnight and started towards the pavilion that the travellers shared. He was surprised to find Aragorn wasn't there. The Lady could not have kept him so late, he thought. Then, looking down from the treetop, he saw two figures in Haldir's room. Gleefully, he sped down the stairs toward it.

As he neared the low pavilion, Faramir heard his friends' raised voices behind the drawn curtain. He thought to turn around quickly, but hearing his own name drew him back. He paused and leaned close to the doorway.

"Haldir, you know that Faramir cannot stay here. We must continue the quest."

"He is not ready. He will be a liability, just as you believed he was when you first met."

Faramir gasped, but Aragorn's next words stopped his breath completely. "I admit that I did believe that. I hated Denethor for sending his younger son. I wondered why Boromir did not come, the warrior of Gondor that we all expected."

Tears welled up in Faramir's eyes. He had known in his heart that this was true. Aragorn did believe that he was unworthy. Self-loathing washed over him, and he missed the rest of Aragorn's words. Haldir's next words shook him back to attention. "He is even weaker now than when you left Rivendell. True, his body is healing, but his mind is still fragile. It takes time to recover from wounds such as those he has suffered."

"He does not have more time. None of us have any more time, not even the elves. The ring must be destroyed before Sauron's forces overwhelm us."

"And how will Faramir, as weak as he is, help you achieve this? He cannot even lift a sword!" Haldir asked. "What would you have me do? Leave Faramir here in your hands?" he heard Aragorn say disdainfully.

"It is true that his presence is somewhat disruptive to the guardianship of Lórien. Otherwise you would never have caught me unawares tonight," Haldir said ruefully.

Faramir could listen no more. Aragorn did not want him to go with him, and Haldir did not want him in Lórien. He was a liability to his friends no matter where he turned. Oh, what had made him think that he could help in this quest? Everyone could see his incompetence, and he could not blame anyone for wanting to discard him.

With tears streaming down his face, Faramir ran out into the moonlit night, hoping against hope that he could be engulfed in blackness once again.

---

Hiril nín = my lady

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