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I, Faramir: the latter days (R) Print

Written by Surreysmum

02 April 2011 | 14742 words

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Part 6

28 Víressë, 35th year of the 4th Age, Minas Tirith

I’ve taken to visiting the archery range very early in the morning: right at sun-up, which comes sooner each day now that we are well past the equinox. Not only is it a very pleasant time to be out, with the fresh breeze and the noisy birds, but it means there are fewer witnesses to my ineptitude. My inability to find my range and direction has been a source of considerable grief to me lately!

This morning, however, I had some expert help. I did not realize at first that Legolas had been standing a little behind me, watching me grow more and more exasperated. I jumped when he stepped forward. But he just smiled.

“You are moving your head slightly just before you release the arrow,” he told me.

I tried twice more, concentrating each time upon the position of my head. But both arrows went their own way, as always.

“May I?” asked Legolas politely. And stepping close to me on the opposite side from my bow-arm, he laid his long fingers across my neck and cheek with as firm and impersonal a touch as a healer. “Try now.”

I released an arrow, and though it still missed its target, I was aware this time of how I had turned my face slightly into Legolas’ hand.

“Hold there?” I asked him, and he obliged wordlessly as I pulled the last arrow from my quiver and let it fly. It did not hit the bull’s-eye, but it was a much better effort.

Legolas’ hand dropped briefly to my shoulder as I thanked him. “It was my honour,” he responded, and he accompanied me down the field to retrieve my arrows. “Do you shoot more today?”

“No, I think that will be enough for this morning,” I said.

“Walk with me, then?” I nodded my assent. We stowed away my bow and quiver, and Legolas led me into an orchard nearby. All around, the trees were shedding their blossom, making ready for the summer work of creating the flesh of their sweet fruits. Legolas was silent until we were well into the shade of the trees.

“Tell me, Faramir, if you would,” he said at length, “why do you not take Aragorn to your bed?”

I stopped short in amazement – and annoyance. “I thought Elves did not discuss such things!” I retorted sharply.

Legolas shrugged. “I am a northern Elf. We are known to be a little uncouth when we see the need. And my friend Estel is direly unhappy, so again I ask you, why do you not take him to your bed?”

A myriad of perfectly good reasons rose to my lips, but the one that emerged was, “Well, for one thing he has never asked me to!”

Legolas sighed. “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure!” I snapped.

“When you left us five years ago…”

“That is none of your business,” I said. “But if you must know, he did mention desiring me then; once only, in a way he did not think I would hear or understand. And I doubt he really meant it.”

Legolas shook his head in exasperation, muttering something I did not catch.

“But that was years ago, and we have talked much since then,” I went on. “He loves me as a brother only, Legolas, as I him.”

“Do you really believe that?”

I hesitated. For Aragorn’s part, I had no reason to disbelieve him, but the dreams of him that woke me nightly, stirred, yearning, and furious with my treacherous body, told me that I was being less than honest about myself.

“Why would I not believe him?” I said belligerently. “He has the most beautiful Elvish woman in the world to wife, and no doubt every fair lad and maid at the Court, Human and Elf, trooping through his chamber. Why in Arda would he look twice at me?”

Legolas stared at me incredulously. There was real anger in his tone as he replied, “I trust you jest, Faramir, though I think little of your humour in insulting Estel so. To my certain knowledge, the only ones to have received the most precious gift of his person in the last forty years are Arwen and I.” He carried on, but I no longer heard his words. It was true, then – Legolas was Aragorn’s lover. I felt myself sag against the nearest tree. He had more than proved my point.

“… and so, no more than I can ever possess Arwen, who is my dearest love – no more than that can you possess Aragorn. There is no place for jealousy in this, Faramir, no room for ownership. The Valar have decreed Aragorn and Arwen’s bond, and it is strong and true.” Legolas was still angry. “Is that why you withhold yourself, Faramir – because you wish to possess him outright? Let me tell you – that is not love, it is sheer selfishness!” He ceased his tirade and looked at me, a quizzical expression coming across his face. He must have finally noticed my bewilderment.

I shook my head. “Possess him?” I asked, trying to make sense of what the wrathful Elf was saying. “Legolas, look at me! He has you and Arwen for lovers. Of course he does not desire me. It does not matter what I want.”

Legolas frowned, and the effect was most unpleasant upon his beautiful features. “Why would he not desire you?” he asked.

“Look at me,” I said again helplessly. “I am old; I am plain. Friend and brother I can be to him, but to think of more is mere perversity – the stuff of malicious dreams.”

Legolas pursed his lips and put a hand up against the tree near my head. I do not know why, but I feared him a little at that moment. However, his voice was mild.

“Do you think me to have good taste in lovers, Faramir?” he asked. That was simply unkind; who could have better taste than the lover of Aragorn and Arwen? I nodded silently.

The next moment I was gasping in shock, as Legolas bent forward and kissed me, sound and long. Within seconds, the shock changed to yielding and burning as his soft, demanding lips opened mine and his sweet breath blew into me a gust of pleasure as great as any I ever experienced from the kisses of my dearest Wynnie. At the thought of her I groaned and tried to shift my head away, but he merely followed and pressed his point until I was thinking no more, but simply trembling with awareness of my own hungry body from top to toe.

The Elf drew back at last. “There,” he said with satisfaction. “Now, I trust you will not insult me by impugning my taste in persons to kiss. You are not old, Faramir, and you are not plain. And if I, who am merely comrade and friend to you, think thus, how much more must Aragorn, who loves you dearly?”

I slid down the trunk of the tree to sit at its foot, still thrumming with sensation throughout my body. I put my face in my hands, utterly confused. My thoughts whirled, and I was caught in a maelstrom of contradictory feelings. Only one thing stood out, and I seized it and clung to it. I desperately wished that Wynnie were here to help me sort this out. I had to choke back tears at the thought of her.

Legolas had joined me upon the orchard floor. “It is too soon, Legolas,” I said shakily. “I cannot…”

“Ai, Valar, I am sorry, Faramir,” he replied, his gaze full of sudden compunction. “I should have listened to Arwen: you grieve still, and it was cruel of me to push you so. Will you forgive me? If I have any excuse, it was that I thought only of Estel.”

“You were not cruel,” I said, swallowing my tears determinedly. “You have given much to think upon, and I thank you.”

He rubbed my shoulder a little awkwardly. “Then, if I may, let me offer one last thought,” he said. “You told me that Aragorn had never asked. That does not surprise me. He would cut off his own hand rather than cause you pain or anxiety, Faramir. That does not mean he does not want you – but he has it stuck in his stubborn Mannish head that you despise the thought of him as a lover. If you do desire him, you will have to woo him a little. I hope that, in your own time, when you are ready, you will do just that, for his sake and for yours. Will you consider it, Faramir?”

The promptness of my answer surprised me. “Yes, I will,” I said, and found a watery smile for him.

He left me sitting there on the new grass with the scent of apple-blossom all around, suspended between grief and hope. When I closed my eyes I heard my blood thundering through my veins and, for the first time in many moons, knew myself to be alive.

And I am still wondering to myself just how in Middle Earth you go about wooing a King?

tbc

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

Enjoyed this story? Then be sure to let the author know by posting a comment at https://www.faramirfiction.com/fiction/i-faramir-the-latter-days. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!


12 Comment(s)

I was tremendously excited to find this story, because I’ve always loved “I, Faramir” though it’s a little sad when Faramir makes his final decision. (And yet your ‘Wynnie’ was such a well-rounded, likeable character that I almost didn’t mind my favorite pairing being broken up. It just made me like your Faramir more.)

And you really are giving us a detailed glimpse into Middle Earth in this one. The Elvish customs are nicely explained — Legolas is brilliantly done, he actually sounds like himself while saying things that the human chroniclers never wrote. And I adore the town of Bathholme, village green and all. How like Faramir to note the etymology!

From your final A/N, it looks like there may not be any more of this story, but I’m glad you posted this part so that we got more of Faramir’s unique voice in his journal. If you ever come back to this one, I’ll definitely be reading!

— Mira Took    Sunday 27 February 2011, 7:28    #

What a delightful surprise to find a comment on this story! Since finishing “The Stranger” last month, I have sometimes thought of coming back and trying to finish this one. No promises, though. But if Faramir speaks to me again, I will listen.

— surreysmum    Sunday 27 February 2011, 18:41    #

Now I’ll begin this by insisting, nay, demanding…okay, hoping that you’ll continue this story, you can’t leave us hanging! My heart leapt into my mouth at the very first line. What an opener, straight to the point and perfectly capturing that sudden shock that death does indeed bring. The fact Faramir still calls her Wynnie speaks volumes of their fondness for one another. I like too the fact this (and the predecessor) focusses on Faramir in his later years (obviously, going from the title :P) I’ve not read many fics where this period of his life is documented so it was really refreshing to see how well you went about it. Eowyn’s letter to Faramir was so lovely and so heartfelt too, and though I’m not a massive Legolas fan in general I enjoyed his forthright behaviour! I understand completely when the muse decides to abandon an idea but I really do hope you find inspiration to continue this story, I’ve really, honestly loved it so far :)

Eora    Monday 28 February 2011, 20:55    #

It’s lovely that my Faramir stories are finding readers again; they have been the orphan stepchildren, I’m afraid – not very explicit, and not set in the sexiest part of life (although I have tried to emphasize that neither Aragorn nor Faramir is crumbling to pieces!) Thank you again for letting me know you liked this. No promises, but positive feedback like this can only encourage me!

— surreysmum    Monday 28 February 2011, 21:46    #

Very nicely done. Please do continue. I’m not good at analytical comments or I’d write more. Thanks for writing.

— Rick    Friday 18 March 2011, 2:38    #

Thank you, Rick! Good news (well I hope it’s good). I went on a vacation last week, and completed this story, at least in draft. I did it in manuscript, so I hope I can read my handwriting while I type it in, and then it’ll have to be edited, but look for the concluding chapters soon!

— surreysmum    Tuesday 29 March 2011, 21:15    #

Absolutely delighted to see more chapters! Once again a nice blend of the relationship between the characters with back-story and secondary characters.

— Mira Took    Saturday 2 April 2011, 9:43    #

Thank you, Mira! It took a long while for Aragorn and Faramir to tell me how to end this, but I’m pleased they finally did1

— surreysmum    Sunday 3 April 2011, 13:21    #

Ah, this is all the sweeter for the long delay(s), dear!

— ebbingnight    Sunday 3 April 2011, 23:34    #

Thanks so much! It’s a great victory to write that “finis”!

— surreysmum    Monday 4 April 2011, 20:02    #

You finished it! A while ago, too, which shows how busy I’ve been not to have noticed… How perfect that we came full circle back to the cave. Thanks for the ending — and for both the I, Faramir stories.

— Mira Took    Tuesday 19 April 2011, 5:06    #

Thanks so much, Mira! There really was only one proper place for them to resolve it, wasn’t there? :)

— surreysmum    Tuesday 19 April 2011, 15:34    #

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