Faramir Fiction Archive

Darkness and Light (NC-17)

Written by Lilith and Minx

29 March 2004 | 29486 words

CHAPTER NINE

The next two weeks passed quickly.

Haldir continued to sit with Faramir each night, sometimes beside his bed, but usually in it. Faramir was still awed that the beautiful elf desired him, but his confidence was growing – thanks to the help of both his friends. And Faramir discovered that the elf's ears were just as scintillating as his vision had given him to believe.

Aragorn still visited each morning, but Haldir no longer rushed away immediately. The three friends took pleasure in each other's company, well knowing that these days of peace would soon end.

Their afternoons were filled with preparations for the journey. Faramir practiced knives with Legolas daily, and became very skilled in their use. Although he would never be as fast as the elf, his lean, muscled body was perfectly suited to the weapon. He took turns sparring with Rúmil and Orophin as well, and the brothers readily admitted that he would make a formidable opponent.

Faramir also helped Aragorn and Celeborn chart their course. In addition to his rich store of maps, Celeborn's knowledge of the area was extensive. Faramir was especially thrilled with his tales of Fangorn Forest. He had heard tales of this mysterious wood in Minas Tirith, though Boromir had dismissed them as old wives' tales. Celeborn assured him that the old wives were right. Ancient tree shepherds had once roamed there, and might still. These creatures did not welcome strangers in their realm, and Faramir, although wishing to see them for himself, promised that they would take caution if they ventured into this strange land.

After consulting all the maps, they decided to follow the Great River, as it offered the fastest way south. Although Faramir was anxious to return to Gondor, he deferred to Aragorn's decision to ride the Anduin all the way to Emyn Muil. Celeborn warned them what to expect in Southern Mirkwood, and they felt well prepared to face the Orcs that now haunted the outskirts of Mordor.

Finally the eve of their journey arrived. The travellers feasted together with the Lord and Lady of Lórien, where they were each offered the chance to stay in the City of the Trees if their hearts so desired. Aragorn watched Faramir's face carefully as Galadriel silently questioned him. Although he knew the young man had every intention of continuing on their chosen path, a part of him did wonder if he was tempted to stay in this beautiful land. But Faramir's face was guileless. In it Aragorn saw only self-assurance and peace. Apparently the Lady saw the same, for she gave him a dazzling smile after she finished.

After the Lord and Lady retired, the travellers lingered for a while, reluctant to end their last night in Lórien. But when Merry and Pippin set out to toast each of the elves they had met so far on the journey, Faramir stretched his arms and yawned. "I regret that I cannot join you, as the elves well deserve our regard, but my bed calls to me and I will have to leave it far too early in the morning. Sleep well, my friends."

Aragorn smiled at the double meaning in his friend's speech. "Yes, we all have an early start in the morning," he agreed. "I will turn in as well. Do not keep all of Lórien up tonight, I would hate to wear out our welcome after so much hospitality."

As soon as they were outside, Aragorn pulled Faramir to him and kissed him passionately. When they finally stopped for air, Faramir smiled up at him, his eyes gleaming. "What was that for?" he asked.

"That was because your bed is calling, and I will miss you very much tonight."

"You aren't coming with me?" Aragorn was happy to hear a trace of disappointment in the young man's voice.

"No, I am not. I will have you with me every night after this one. Tonight Haldir has claimed you."

Faramir smiled at that. "Will you walk me home then?"

"Of course."

The men walked silently through the moonless night. When they arrived at Faramir's room, Aragorn took Faramir's head in his hands and kissed his forehead. "Good night, my love."

"Good night, Aragorn."

---

Haldir had not expected to be so nervous tonight. He kept telling himself that it was like any other night, but he knew that it wasn't true. It was his last night with Faramir, and he wanted it to be perfect.

He was glad that Aragorn had told him earlier that he would not be joining them tonight. He loved being with the ranger, but his heart truly belonged to Faramir. These last two weeks had only strengthened their love. Once he had overcome his awe of elves, and was finally convinced that Haldir was really interested, the man had begun to share little details of his life in Minas Tirith. He had talked of sneaking into his father's study to steal volumes of poetry that Denethor did not want him to read. He had spoken with excitement about the visits of Mithrandir, and then wept in Haldir's arms as he thought of the wizard's death. Mostly he talked of Boromir, of how his big brother had looked after him when their mother had died, practically bringing him up in the stone walls of the citadel. Listening to Faramir's worshipful words Haldir could almost picture the man, and he found himself believing that the warrior of Gondor might indeed hold back the forces of Mordor.

In turn Haldir had shared glimpses of his own two thousand years with Faramir. He found himself remembering things that he had long thought forgotten. He spoke of growing up in Lórien and the pranks that he and his brothers had played on the Lord and Lady when they were younger. He admitted his surprise when he was later chosen as a march warden. And he shared his past encounters with men, and they talked about why they had seemed arrogant and short-sighted.

Haldir realised that he had never opened himself up to anyone quite like this before. He was surrounded by elves who had known him for many centuries, and who never questioned who he was or what he liked. By contrast, Faramir was curious about everything. He never seemed to tire of hearing what he called history – what to the elf were just long-forgotten memories.

And now he was leaving. This thought saddened him deeply, but he had reconciled himself to it. This last fortnight had been filled with more life than he had known in many years.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard sounds outside the pavilion, and then Faramir entered. The man looked gorgeous. He was dressed in a rich garnet robe that complemented his dark colouring. His cheeks were flushed from his wine at dinner, and his lips were still bruised red from Aragorn's kisses. The elf could not imagine a more lovely sight.

Without a word, Haldir opened his arms and his lover rushed into his arms. Their lips found each other as a flurry of hands greedily pulled their bodies together. The imminent journey added an urgency to their meeting, and there seemed to be no time to waste. Faramir was already tugging Haldir's robe over his head, breaking their kiss for just an instant before attacking his lips again. Haldir started to do the same to him, but the motion threw him off balance and he fell on the bed, the man on top of him.

"Sorry about that," he said, feeling more than a little clumsy.

"I'm not," Faramir said boldly, pressing his hips suggestively against the elf. Haldir's eyes fell shut as the man's erection strained against the velvet robe, his own finding a delicious pressure against Faramir's stomach. They kissed again, Faramir's tongue probing deep inside the elf's mouth, as their bodies grinded against each other.

At last their kiss ended, and Faramir slid down to nibble on Haldir's neck. After a moment he murmured, "You are delicious – you taste of honey." Haldir's smile broadened as Faramir continued. "Now I want to taste all of you, my love."

He lowered himself to take Haldir's shaft into his mouth. It was too long for him to swallow, so he gripped the base in his hand and stroked it rhythmically as his head moved up and down. When he flicked the elf's throbbing blood vein with his tongue, shivers of delight raced through Haldir's body and he moaned. The moans increased as Faramir's other hand fondled his balls. He cried out his name incoherently, realising with satisfaction that his cries inspired Faramir to quicken his pace. At last he abandoned himself to the rising tide of pleasure, riding upon this indescribable feeling until the entire world seemed to disappear into ecstasy.

Faramir slid back onto the bed beside Haldir. "You taste delicious," he said, his husky voice almost making the elf stiffen again, "but I need you now."

Faramir was still wearing his robe, and his erection was straining painfully against the soft velvet. Haldir reached down and tugged at the bottom hem, then lifted the entire thing off his lover in a single flourish. As Faramir nestled back into the bed, the elf appraised his body appreciatively. His scars were fading and the muscles in his shoulders were becoming more defined. He was still pale, but not nearly as gaunt as he had been even a few weeks before. Most importantly, Haldir saw a peace in his eyes that had only surfaced recently. A peace, and something else – perhaps pure lust –

"Haldir, what are you doing?" The man's desperate voice interrupted his revelry.

"Just admiring my lover's body," he teased.

"Haldir, I am going to explode!"

The elf smiled devilishly. "I thought we might try something a little different tonight, if you feel adventurous."

"Haldir, this is hardly a time for games!"

"Oh, this is no game," the elf said, as he rolled onto his stomach and looked back into his lover's face. "I want to feel you inside me."

"You – you do?" Faramir asked, watching as Haldir's long fingers stroked his shapely buttocks sensuously. "I won't hurt you?"

"Not if we do it right. Would you like to try?"

"Oh, yes – I think so." He sounded eager, but still a little doubtful. Haldir knew this was a brave step for his lover. His violation in Moria had naturally made him anxious about certain things, and although Faramir had gladly accepted all the love that he and Aragorn offered, they had never gone this far before. Haldir hoped that if everything went well, this could help him further overcome his demons.

"Good. Then hand me that flask beside the bed." Faramir dutifully did as he was told, and was rewarded by the elf's fingers slathering silky oil along his entire length.

"Oh, that feels too good," Faramir moaned.

"It gets better, trust me," Haldir laughed.

"Oh, I do," the man said, looking meaningfully into the elf's eyes before reaching down to kiss his lips.

Then Haldir turned back over and rested on his hands and knees, moving his hips until they were right before Faramir's slick shaft. The man's hands on his hips guided him to the right spot, and he felt the pressure on his ring of muscle. It was tight and Faramir seemed hesitant to continue, but Haldir pushed back against him until he slid inside. He gasped as he was filled slowly but completely.

An animal-like moan erupted from Faramir. "Haldir," he heard him say, as he felt the warmth inside him disappear, only to reappear with the next thrust. He could only murmur Faramir's name in response as their pace increased. He felt himself struggling for breath, Faramir's hands on his hips urging him closer to release. Again he heard his name called, "Haldir," this time as a cry of ecstasy as Faramir exploded within him. The elf followed seconds later, Faramir's name on his lips, collapsing under the man as the world spun around them.

When Haldir was finally able to lift his head, Faramir's shining eyes were the first things he saw. He kissed the man gently and said, "That was incredible, Faramir."

"Was it really? I mean, I loved it, but – was it really good for you?"

Haldir smiled at the anxious tone in his lover's voice. He shifted to his side so he could face Faramir and stroke his arms. "That was truly wonderful, my darling one. It has been a very long time since I have felt so good." He looked into the man's face. "And how are you? Did you like that?"

"Oh, yes!" Faramir's radiant face confirmed his words. "I was afraid, you know –" his voice trailed off, and Haldir quickly reassured him.

"Yes, I know. But you do know that this is very different. I wanted you to do this – I wanted you desperately, my love, and have since we first met."

Faramir hugged him tightly. "Yes, I do know this is different. I did not imagine it could ever be this good." He thought for a moment before asking, "Do you think I will ever be able to let someone do this to me?"

"I do not know, my love," Haldir said softly, wrapping his arms around the young man. "If you want it, then I suppose you could. But only if you want it. No one will ever touch you again unless you want it."

Faramir smiled at that, and nuzzled against Haldir's smooth chest, absentmindedly fingering his nipple. Haldir felt himself begin to stir again but fought the urge, his caretaker instinct taking over. It was late, and the man had a long journey ahead of him tomorrow.

Aloud he said, "Let's get you under the covers. It is getting cold, and you need to get some rest."

"I will get into bed, but I have something for you before I go to sleep."

"For me?"

"Yes, something to remind you of me – so you don't forget about me when the next man stumbles into Lórien," Faramir teased.

"I don't know, I have a taste for men now, you know," the elf teased, taking a sharp bite out of the man's shoulder.

"So I've noticed," Faramir said, squirming away to extract a small wooden box from a pocket in his robe.

"What is it?" Haldir asked as Faramir handed it to him and scrambled under the blankets.

"Well, open it and see."

Haldir lifted the wooden lid. Nestled inside was an intricate carving of a city, many levels high, filled with tiny buildings, roads, and walls that wound up a steep hill. Right through the middle rose a sharp parapet like the keel of a ship. Atop this bastion rested a flat promenade before what looked like a beautiful palace. The single piece of wood from which it had been carved had been bleached and then polished to a high sheen so that the city seemed to sparkle in the flickering candlelight.

Haldir stared in wonder at the image in his hands. "What is it?" he finally asked again.

"This is my home, Minas Tirith."

"And you made this for me?"

"I carved it, yes," Faramir said humbly, "but Gimli made the box. He is much better at that than I am."

Haldir looked at the man in amazement. "Faramir, this is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

"No, Haldir, it's just a little thing –"

His words were drowned out by Haldir's lips and his repeated mumblings of "Thank you, thank you, my love, thank you."

When Haldir finally stopped kissing him, he said, "I have something for you too, Faramir." He placed Faramir's gift reverently beside the bed before retrieving a larger box, wrapped in a silken cloth, which lay on the table. "These are for you, my beloved. I know that you will find a good use for them."

Faramir opened the box and then looked up at Haldir, his eyes full of wonder. "Elven knives," he sighed. "Haldir, they are lovely."

Haldir watched as his lover caressed the fine leather handles, the Elvish words etched on the curved blade. "Yes, they are. They belonged to my father. He left them to me when he went across the sea."

"Haldir, I cannot accept these," Faramir exclaimed. "They are far too precious!"

"No, Faramir, you are what is precious. I want you to have them."

"But they are an heirloom – you should keep them yourself."

Haldir sighed. "Faramir, don't you understand, I have enough heirlooms. Everything around me is an heirloom! You came into my world and brought with you a freshness that I sorely needed. Your love renewed my world."

He brushed a lock of Faramir's dark hair behind his ear before continuing. "Faramir, you must take these. You must fight, and you must survive, for Aragorn has promised that you will come back to see me after you complete your quest. I hold him to that promise, and I give you these weapons to ensure your safety. Use them well, and hurry back to me."

Tears were shining in Faramir's eyes as he embraced Haldir. "Yes, yes, I will come back to you. I swear that I will come back."

Finally Haldir managed to coax Faramir to sleep. He sat by his bedside, watching the young man's breath rise and fall, as he held a tiny image of a white city and thought of this perfect night.

 

 

---

EPILOGUE: Minas Tirith, Midsummer's Eve 3019

 

The White City was abuzz with excitement – King Elessar's betrothed was arriving today, with a full complement of elves from Rivendell and Lórien. The Gondorians had seen many strange things of late, what with the appearance of Halflings and wizards, invading Oliphaunts and Haradrim, and the return of the king from exile. But this, the arrival of the Lady Arwen Evenstar, seemed to have eclipsed them all.

Or perhaps it was only that, after so many years at war and the death of so many, including the old Steward, a wedding was an especially joyous occasion – and a royal wedding even more so. Whatever the reason, everyone in Minas Tirith was eagerly looking forward to the festivities. The king had ordered feasts for every level of the city, with the best foods that could be found from Gondor and Rohan. Musicians had been hired to entertain the crowds and rumours abounded that Gandalf might treat the happy couple to a fireworks display. Old friends and relations had travelled from as far away as Dol Amroth, and even Rohan was represented by the lovely Princess Éowyn, who some suspected had won the heart of Steward Boromir. It promised to be a grand day for Gondor.

Inside a large room high in the citadel tower, two men were also preparing for the arrival of the bridal party.

"Ow, that hurts!"

"Stop fidgeting, Faramir. You're acting so nervous anyone would think you were getting married."

"Must you pull so hard? I'm not one of the horses in your stable."

"Fine, then greet Haldir with your tangled ranger hair," Aragorn said, tossing the brush onto the dressing table. "I'm sure he has done nothing special to look good for you today!"

"Do you think he has, Aragorn?" Faramir said dreamily. "It has been over three months since we left Lórien, he might care nothing for me anymore."

"Don't be absurd, my darling," Aragorn said, forgetting his exacerbation as he kissed the top of the raven head. "Once someone falls in love with you, I fear it is forever."

"You're a fine one to talk, getting married tomorrow," Faramir teased. "Haldir warned me of the fickleness of men."

In one swift motion the king lifted Faramir and tossed him on the bed. "I see I must remind you of the worth of men before you return to your elven lover," he said, falling on top of him and undoing the silver laces at the neck of Faramir's tunic. The young man playfully swatted his hands away, protesting half-heartedly as Aragorn's lips viciously attacked the curve of his neck.

A sudden knock on the door interrupted them, to their dismay. Aragorn sighed heavily as they got up from the bed. Faramir quickly redid his tunic as the king opened the door to one of the citadel guards. The guard bowed to him. "King Elessar, the wedding party has just reached Rammas Echor. They should arrive within the half-hour."

"Thank you, Falborn. Please bring them to the citadel. We will meet them outside the Great Hall."

The man bowed again and left. Aragorn met Faramir's eyes and smiled. "I see my lesson will have to wait until you return. And when will that be again? In two weeks? Three?"

Faramir returned his smile. "I promise to return by Yáviérë at the very latest. That's just three months away." Seeing the pained look in Aragorn's face, he quickly added, "And if you still intend to escort the hobbits home, you might enjoy some time in Lórien yourself. Besides, now is the best time for me to leave. I have few pressing duties, and I think that the Lady Arwen will want her husband to herself for a little while at least." "Yes," Aragorn admitted, "you are probably right. But please hurry back. Your brother would make a fine steward in wartime, but he leaves much to be desired in times of peace. Gondor needs you here with me."

"Oh, is it Gondor that needs me?" Faramir laughed, wrapping his arms around the king's waist and lifting his chin to kiss him. "Gondor will be quite happy with a Queen now, especially one as beautiful as the Lady Arwen."

"Can you honestly say you are not jealous at all?" Aragorn asked.

Faramir unwound himself from his lover's arms and sat down again at the dressing table, scrutinizing his appearance as he considered the question. Finally he admitted, "I do not feel threatened by your relationship, if that is what you ask, but I cannot say I am not envious of it. You have known each other for so long. Even when I first saw you together in Rivendell I envied your closeness. You seemed very comfortable with each other."

He looked closely at Aragorn's reflection in the mirror, and the older man nodded. "Yes, that is true. We fell in love so long ago, when I was very young. I always knew we would marry, and have children, and that I would grow old beside her." Aragorn moved to stand behind Faramir, resting his hands on his shoulders. "And in truth, I never thought to love another so much." He picked the brush back up and ran it – more gently this time – through his lover's dark hair.

Faramir watched the king in the mirror, smiling at his wrinkled brow as he battled a stubborn tangle. "And now what will you do with your lover once the queen arrives?" He knew the answer already, but he realized he needed to hear it again.

"I will force him to wear his hair short, for a start," Aragorn said with mock annoyance. Faramir giggled as he took the brush from him, and expertly untangled his thick black hair. "Then I will proclaim him my chief councillor, to advise me on all the urgent matters facing Gondor."

"And then?" Faramir asked expectantly.

"I will make him the Prince of Ithilien in reward for his valiant efforts during the war of the ring."

"Anything else?"

Faramir sounded very impatient now, and Aragorn decided to give him what he wanted. He leaned down and kissed him, gently biting his full bottom lip before saying, "And he will share my bed every night, and serve the King of Gondor in every possible way."

"Oh, yes!" Faramir's eyes were shining now.

"And I will command him to remain with me in Minas Tirith, and not allow him to run off to Lórien with a gorgeous elf," Aragorn added, as he stood up.

"Now who is jealous of whom?" laughed Faramir.

"It is not jealousy," Aragorn replied. "It is realistic. I am merely a king, how can I ever hope to compete with the warden of Lórien?"

"You will never have to compete, my love," Faramir said. He stood up and straightened the king's sable tunic as he talked. "You know that you are what I live for. I need you just like I need air to breathe. You are a part of me, part of my mind and my body. Not even Boromir, who I love more than my life, can compete with you for my affection." He paused as he pressed the soft velvet of the tunic into place, then stood back and cocked his head to one side to examine his work. Aragorn watched him with a bemused expression, but Faramir was too absorbed to notice.

Aragorn loved watching Faramir when he didn't know he was being observed. After leaving Lórien he had kept a close eye on Faramir, unwilling to let any further harm befall his lover. He had witnessed his fighting prowess at Amon Hen, where the fellowship was divided by an Orc attack, as well as in their battles at Helm's Deep and the Pelennor. He had been heartened by his courage as they ventured through the Paths of the Dead. In Edoras they had met Gríma Wormtongue, and he had seen the young man face his enemy with intelligence, calmness, and even compassion. Only Aragorn knew what this show of strength had cost him. As he comforted the weeping young man in his arms that night, Aragorn was reminded that his recovery was not yet complete. He vowed to do everything in his power to bring Faramir some peace, knowing that he would forfeit his own life if it would help this man he loved so dearly.

Once they were back in Minas Tirith, Aragorn had been concerned that Denethor's demise might prove a setback to Faramir's fragile emotions. Both brothers had been disconsolate at their father's death in the Battle of Pelennor, and he had found himself comforting Faramir more than once, but the younger man had finally rallied with his and Boromir's support.

Since the war ended there was no longer any need for this protectiveness, but by now watching Faramir had become second nature. Now he found himself relishing the tiny things that revealed more and more about this man he had come to love. His quarters were fastidiously neat, the only disarray in the books scattered wherever Faramir happened to be reading. He insisted on helping Aragorn select his attire for each public appearance, and the king soon discovered that he had an exquisite sense of style. He had insisted on the sable tunic today, claiming that it matched perfectly with the Lady Arwen's ebony hair and suggested a visual connection between them that Gondorians outside the citadel could see from afar. This attention to detail was just one of Faramir's endearing qualities. The king found his thinking fascinating, and realised he adored him more with each passing day.

When he was finally satisfied with the king's appearance, Faramir said softly, "Haldir can never come between you and me. The way I love him is different. I am still in awe of him, I think. He is so beautiful, so far above me that I still cannot believe he loves me."

"Of course he loves you, my darling," Aragorn said, as Faramir turned his attentions to his own tunic. Aragorn watched him with deep appreciation. If anything he had grown lovelier since they left Lórien. His deep blue robe set off his smoky eyes perfectly, and they shone like brilliant gems sparkling in the bright sun. His strength had fully returned now, and Aragorn could make out his sinewy muscles through the cloth. His lean build had filled out somewhat, and he had lost his former gaunt appearance.

"You can never see your own beauty, Faramir, nor will you believe how wonderful you are," Aragorn finally said, struck with the truth of his words. "So Haldir and I must keep proving to you that you are loved, even if that means I must share you with the elf."

Faramir blushed bright red now, and Aragorn yearned to savour those ruby lips once more, but their time was quickly running out. Instead he reached his hand out to stroke his cheek, and was rewarded when Faramir leaned into his hand and gently kissed his palm. Aragorn sighed and bestowed a quick kiss to Faramir's forehead as another knock sounded on the door. They smiled gently at each other and finally hurried out to meet their lovers.

THE END

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