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For your sake Badur (NC-17) Print

Written by Nerey Camille

20 February 2013 | 19253 words

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Chapter 5. A new hope

Faramir sat unmoving as Badur’s fingers explored his face. The thought of doing something that would stir the memories of their last contact held him paralyzed with fear. So intense was his desire to feel loved and forgiven in her arms, and so strong the hope awakened by her kiss and gaze, that he didn’t think the moment he moved he would be able to control his reactions. After a moment, Badur’s caresses stopped.

“What is the matter, Faramir? You are just letting yourself be touched.”

“I so much dread to do anything that would make you think I took things for granted.”

“Do not fear, my love. Here – do it.”

And she lay on the ground, hands behind her head, her eyes smiling at him. Slowly Faramir ran one hand over her cheek, her jaw line, her neck, tracing one gentle finger between her breasts and over her left hip. His hand cupped the curve of her body and he sighed. His other hand went around her neck and tangled itself into warm, black hair. He seized a handful of her mane and brought it to his lips, inhaling the scent of it deeply. Then he lay down beside her, took Badur’s face between his hands and, pushing back an image of himself sneering at her in the cavern, he kissed her lips.

They opened in welcome, but Faramir drew back, kissing her softly and quietly all over her face. Beneath his restraint and his infinite tenderness Badur could sense that all his passion was intact, heightened by years of starvation. A hot tremor ran down her belly, and she put her arms round Faramir’s back. The young man allowed her to pull him close and their lips met. Their tongues greeted each other warmly, and though their slowness at first told of wariness and unspoken fears, each touch showed them that they were home, that their friend was still the same, and that bliss was right there if they dared to take it – not too rashly, though, for it was fragile and too precious to be risked for anything in the world.

“How I have missed this,” sighed Badur, her fingers roaming over Faramir’s sides. “You’ve got scars. You’ve grown older. I am so sorry that you should have suffered pain.”

“The same is true of you. Scars you have, though they have not marred your body.”

And while he said this, his fingers delicately undid Badur’s clothes, revealing her skin in the gathering night.

“You are still so beautiful,” he whispered.

“And you,” she replied, smiling. Faramir took out his cloak and spread it so that they could both lie comfortably on it. They were now naked, and his desire was steadily increasing, but he was not in any hurry. He brushed Badur’s skin with the tip of his fingers, searching for any sign of discomfort that might still arise from touch in the parts he had so ill-treated the other night. If Badur felt pain, she didn’t show it. Her face contracted very slightly from time to time, but it could as well be from pleasure. Very gently she ran her fingers over Faramir’s back, careful not to bruise the cuts she had made a day earlier.

“I had forgotten how maddeningly slow you could be,” she teased. Faramir looked hurt. Badur’s eyes filled with tears and she spoke anxiously. “I didn’t mean to grieve you. I understand why you do it. It was just a way of saying that I desire you and to reassure you that you were not going too fast.” Still Faramir looked dejected, so Badur put her arms around his neck and hugged him tight.

“My love, my Faramir,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “Take the time you need. It’s just that all these years, amidst all the hardships and fears the memory of you was the one ray of light I held onto. When I met you, and you tortured me and I thought that you had betrayed all I believed in… well, that was a great blow. That one shining memory shattered… I was so relieved when I understood it wasn’t true, but I guess I was still shaken, and angry, and just miserable and in need of comfort…” She stopped. “Stars, my heart is burdened. Do you wish to hear more about it?”

“Please,” he said, his eyes intent.

“Even after I believed you, I still felt resentful. I had felt, and I still did, so vulnerable and so weak… Seeing you suffer made much to heal my wounds, though, and to lessen my anger. And I was surprised at my gladness to be with you again. Your company gave me joy greater than I had expected. And that brought back memories, and I started to miss your tenderness and love. Gradually, I came to accept you as my lover again, but you were so distant, you didn’t pay any attention to me. Of course, I thought, for all I knew you might be married now, or engaged.”

He looked like he was going to say something in denial, but she shook her head to stop him from speaking and went earnestly on.

“I told myself not to entertain idle wishes, to focus on the more important things that were at stake. But the wish wouldn’t leave me, and… what I mean is, I understand that you have your own fears and regrets to fight, and I’ll respect it if it takes you three months to lie with me, but all that has happened has shaken me too, and I feel awfully hungry for love and forgetfulness. And besides, you’re so desirable you’re making me crazy with want. There.”

And she fell silent, and looked at Faramir with those great coal eyes that he had never been able to resist. Two pearls glided over his cheeks. He could not speak. Instead, he took action, hugging her as warmly and closely as he could, and she hid her face in the curve of his neck and wept as he covered her shoulder in kisses. Then he brushed away the hair from her face and kissed her as fiercely, as demandingly as she had ever dreamed of. His tongue travelled swiftly to one of her nipples and she cried. His leg glided deftly between hers and her thighs hugged it in long-repressed need. Faramir cast his head backwards to look at her intently.

“The fact is,” he said detachedly, “I was wondering if I could still make you cry with pleasure.”

She laughed. His fingers treaded again over her chest, tangled themselves in her small navel, reached the dark bush below and found the fountain in the middle of it. She was slick with desire. He thought she became tense for a moment as his hand touched her there, and instantly slowed down, fearing again the intrusion of awful memories. Gently, softly, he stroked her skin, until she relaxed again, almost as if she were going to sleep. Then his fingers became pressing and she was moaning again. Swift as a cat, she rolled on her side and engulfed the head of his sex within her mouth. He gasped. Then her hand replaced her tongue and in a few skillful strokes she had him ready to come. He spilled, knowing that that was what she wanted. She ran her fingers over the sticky fluid and laughed.

“The sacred essence of love fertilizes the ground,” she said. The ancestral words with which her people ritualized the act of coupling came out of her lips as a private joke. Faramir smiled and kissed her effusively. When their lips parted, she was slightly out of breath.

“My job to arouse you again,” she said, and resumed a slow tasting of his private parts that was as pleasurable for him as for her. Face up, resting on his elbows to prevent his sore back from touching the ground, Faramir could sense her excitement. He knew she was going after her own pleasure now. Indeed, when lapping at the tip of his sex was not enough for her any more, she straddled one of his legs, rubbing her inner entrance against his skin and her nipples on his chest. Faramir fell back on the ground as his arms gripped her tightly, thus ceasing to hold him up. Badur tangled her tongue feverishly into his own, and holding his sex steadily in one hand, she climaxed.

They lay side by side, almost motionless, Faramir slowly caressing her body, dallying overlong on her buttocks.

“Upon my word, you are going to wear them out,” she laughed after a while.

“Funny you should say that just now,” he said, and rolled between her legs. “I was just thinking there was another visit I really shouldn’t delay any longer.”

Badur gasped as his hot tongue passed swiftly over her labia. The visit he paid was indeed long, attentive and most delightful. Faramir’s tongue teased, but not with words. There was no jesting nuance in his voice when he said that he desired to bury his cock inside her, and requested permission to be on top.

“For, as you know, my back is rather sensitive at the moment,” he smiled.

Badur laughed, but kindly.

“Come, my lover,” she said, in the traditional words of Haradrim women. Once more, her tongue glided swiftly over Faramir’s cock, and then she guided him in. It stretched her muscles at first after much time without lying with a man, but after a while she found she wanted stronger sensations.

“How would you like to come into my arse?” she moaned. Faramir drew out and slowly, very slowly, entered her more delicate and narrow channel. It just felt so good. Like they used to, they ended up forgetting all caution and coupling savagely. Badur’s fingers dug into Faramir’s back, drawing fresh blood from his wounds without him noticing. Faramir’s fingers dug hard into her fore entrance without her thinking once of his violence in the Orcs’ cavern. He rammed her bottom until they both came with cries that carried far into the night.
Faramir fell over Badur and laughed heartily.

“I love you, my redoubtable lioness. My back is on fire. What have you been doing?”

“You know me… Besides, I wonder which of us is the more redoubtable. I feel like I won’t be able to sit for a week.”

Laughing they went down to the fountain, and washed themselves. The water felt cool and refreshing after their lovemaking. Lying closely together in the cavern, drying themselves with their mutual heat, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.



The night was short, and at dawn they made ready to leave the refuge. Badur was already heading for the path when Faramir forestalled her.

“Whatever happens from now on,” he said, “I want you to know that I will love you always. Ever since I first met you, I have seen you as the embodiment of love and desire and all that feels good and innocent and fair. Last night with you was a gift for which I am ineffably grateful.”

“I have long known,” she answered, “that you are the man I would have chosen to live with, if I had had my way. No other lover has ever pleased me as you have, or made me feel so well-loved or admired. No one can ever hold your place in my heart. Though you knew it not, you saved my life long before I was captured by the Orcs.”

They set out by the first rays of the sun and after several hours of swift going they came to the Rangers’ main camp in Ithilien. There they stopped for lunch and news. The arrival of the captain with a beautiful woman after two days of unexplained absence was a surprising sight to say the least, and Badur thought it was a sign of the men’s respect and trust in Faramir that in spite of some grins no questions or remarks were heard. Though perhaps the stern, dangerous look in Faramir’s eyes also had something to do with it. Faramir gave a brief account to his lieutenant of what had happened, told him to assume command until new orders came, and then he and Badur left on horseback for Minas Tirith.

Day was ending when they sighted their destination. Badur halted, taking in the prodigious beauty of the White City gleaming in the sunset.

“I wish you could have seen it under more auspicious circumstances,” said Faramir. Badur leaned towards him, brushing his shoulder with her head.

“I am glad to have seen it at all. Do not be afraid.”

They went up right away to the Citadel, where Faramir named himself, thus proving his identity to the Lady Badur. They parted with a bow; she was escorted to a guest room, while he headed directly to Denethor’s presence. The Steward had already been warned of his arrival.

Faramir explained he had rescued Badur from the Orcs, asked for asylum for her and that obtained, proceeded to recount all that had happened. Denethor’s wrath was boundless when he learned that Faramir had given his mother’s portrait to rescue Badur and that his true identity had been mentioned by her in front of the Orcs.

“It is hard to say which shows the more impudence: to have kept this jewel against my express orders, or to have given it away rashly to a band of Orcs!”

“It was the only way to obtain her release, father. Do you mean that, being able to save her, I should have let her die that horrible death? An ally, and a noble woman?”

“Of course you should, rather than compromise your mission! We are at war. How can a woman represent more to you than the lives of all who depend on your discipline and caution? You have carefully secured my promise to protect her before telling me of the facts I might not agree to. Are you in love with her?”

Faramir, whose face had gone pale at his father’s reproach, hesitated.

“I care for her, yes.”

“A woman’s love should never get in the way of your duty!”

“My love for her was not the reason.”

“What was it then?”

“I couldn’t let her die. It seemed… dishonourable.”

“Dishonourable, indeed! Since when do you decide what is honourable, rather than following your Steward’s orders?”

“Since that night, it would seem,” answered Faramir quietly.

“It is clear to me that you’ve had too much freedom so far. I have looked upon your independence of spirit far too leniently and this is the result. I want your word that from now on you will obey my commands without contest and, when in doubt, you will do exactly as you think I should have done.”

“Forgive me, father…”

“You will return at once to the Rangers’ camp and resume your mission. You’d better contrive a way to earn back the Orcs’ trust, if they have found you out. I do not want to see you again until you have regained the locket. To think that you dared to keep it against my will…!”

“Forgive me, father, and hear me out. I… will not resume this mission.” Faramir’s demeanour was gentle and his voice a bit low, but it didn’t falter.

Denethor stabbed him with his glance, unable to admit what he had just heard.

“I truly mean it. I will not be a spy again. I will not utter a single lie again in my life. I will not torture another being, be it even an Orc and whatever the good of the purpose. I will negotiate with the Orcs to get back the locket, which is dear to me, and if they will not accept, I will kill every Orc in Ithilien. If we hadn’t associated with them, they would never have taken Badur captive. It will not happen again within my jurisdiction.”

“And what” said Denethor in a venomous voice “makes you think that you’re going out from here to captain the Rangers again, instead of being thrown into the dungeons or over the battlements as I have a good mind to command?”

“That is for you to decide, father,” said Faramir serenely. “But if you send me back as a captain of Rangers, I will do as I have told you.”

“Be careful who you are rebelling against, son,” said Denethor, trembling with wrath. “Either you beg forgiveness immediately and do as you are told, or that friend of yours will perish this hour. By fire, if nothing else will move you.”

Faramir paled. “That is unjust, my father.”

“I have a realm in my care, and I will not be defied by my own son. Make your choice.”

Faramir bent a knee. His countenance was deathly pale, but also as determined as his father’s. His voice trembled a little.

“My choice is made. I will not retract it.”

“You sentence Badur to death.”

“No, father. You do it.” It cost him a great effort, but the words were steady.

“You could save her.”

“Under such conditions, I choose not to do so.”

“Very well. Go away.”

Faramir bowed and left without another word. After pacing the room in furious thought for some time, Denethor sat down again and sent for Badur.

He insulted her, threatened her, cajoled her, but could not obtain her help to persuade Faramir to change his mind.

“He will be executed if he persists in his mutiny. I can see that you love him. Is it of no consequence to you whether he lives or dies?”

“It is of great consequence to me.”

“Then why not use your influence over him to save his life?”

“I do not know that any influence that I could have would be stronger than the call of his duty. If he has ignored that, then I doubt there is anything in existence with power enough to make him change his mind. If there is, it is certainly greater than you or me.”

And nothing Denethor said could make her budge on the matter.



Faramir was imprisoned in his room. He knew nothing of Badur’s fate, and he missed her. He was glad to have followed his own heart in spite of his father’s threats, but he wished in his heart of hearts that his present situation wouldn’t endure for too long. He couldn’t help but worry for Badur at day, and at night he kept having horrible nightmares about the Orcs’ cavern.

In his chamber high up in the cold of night, Denethor gazed into the palantír of the Kings. Faramir was screaming in his sleep. For the third night in a row, he had relived in his dreams the events that had brought Badur and him to Minas Tirith, and his father had been watching him earnestly, his eyes never leaving the young man’s face. Faramir relaxed and Denethor’s fingers glided over the Stone. The image changed and he saw Badur, also asleep in the guest room where she was a prisoner. Her sleep was uneasy at times, but no cries came out from her lips, nor could any sweat be seen on her brow. Clearly their ordeal had affected her less than him. She muttered Faramir’s name and smiled, without waking up.

Denethor sighed and bent his gaze further away, to the North where Boromir was in campaign against the Shadow. He watched his first-born inspecting the camp before he went to sleep. Boromir’s demeanour was proud, confident and strong-willed, as always. Boromir wouldn’t approve of Faramir’s incarceration. There was not much Denethor dreaded in this world, but he did not like crossing his elder son. To Boromir, Faramir’s well-being was a matter of the utmost importance. He might admit to himself that Faramir’s behaviour had been foolish, but still he would demand his release loudly – if he knew.

But he would know, of course. As soon as he came to the city. And he would not be glad. Two unhappy sons were perhaps more than Denethor could risk in the war against the Enemy.

The Lord of Gondor stood up and closed his eyes. Then he turned to someone who was always behind him, someone whom he did not need the Stone to see. She did not belong to the world of mortals – not any more.

What would you do?

The fair face of Finduilas comforted him with its reassuring smile and its affectionate, trusting gaze. Her countenance was kind, but there was no mistaking what she thought of the matter.

Denethor sighed. Ever since she had died, he had listened to her advice. Once more, he rued not doing so before she died. His voice was but a whisper.

“I will.”



Faramir watched from the battlements as Badur approached him. His smile was so wide as to make his jaws hurt, but he didn’t care. She joined him and they embraced as siblings.

“I am glad to see you,” he said, expressing but poorly what he felt.

“I’m glad to see that you’re Captain of the Rangers again,” she replied with a huge grin.

“I am to resume my command in a few days,” he confirmed. Then he looked her up and down. “What’s with the Ranger garb?”

Badur glanced at her new clothes.

“Just thought I’d try it on. Your father sent it. He told me I could work with the resistant networks in lands occupied by the Enemy. Not anywhere near you, though.”

“He would do that,” he smiled, passing over the other thoughts that came to his mind. He told me nothing of this. She has been spared. But it is deadly work. He might as well have killed her directly. What the hell did you expect? We’ve made it. Both of us, free, in Minas Tirith. Free. I will never act against my own heart again.

“A strange man,” said Badur. “He forbids us to be together, yet he reinstates you as commander and places me under your orders. After you have rebelled against him.”

True enough. Yet we will do as he wishes and separate. His father allowed them a certain freedom, but Faramir knew he would expect obeisance nonetheless. Nor was he intent on defying Denethor again. He would make sure to send her where she could be useful – and as safe as he could ask her to be. He held Badur against him and they stood in the sun, looking over the battlements to the lands where they would soon be fighting the Enemy. As he stroke Badur’s hair affectionately, Faramir thought of the dangers looming ahead – and for all that might be in store for he and Badur, he felt happy.

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