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My Lord, Return To Me (NC-17) Print

Written by Laurëlóte

06 January 2007 | 4589 words

Title: My Lord, Return To Me
Author: Laurëlóte
Beta: The lovely Minx, and much hand-holding and words of encouragement from the equally lovely Kissa
Characters: Faramir / Beregond
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: dom/sub themes, angst
Feedback: Yes please! laurelote@hotmail.co.uk
Summary: Beregond worries about his master as war descends upon Gondor
Sequel to My Lord, Command Me

My Lord, Return To Me

I watched my master turn from boy, into every bit of the man I knew he would be. He was loyal, strong and brave, yet gentle. And he was also a natural born leader whom all the men followed without question.

When he was made captain we celebrated by returning to the very hut in which he had claimed me for his own, though in truth, he had claimed me many times since. I loved him more than I had ever thought it possible to love another, and I simply could not get enough of him.

Each time he returned to Ithilien, I worked myself up into such a frenzy of worry that he eventually conceded to writing me letters in order to prevent me from leaving my own post to ride out every time I heard bad news, just in case he was hurt or needed me there.

I think in fact, although he would never admit it, he found the letters therapeutic. I was his confidant, I listened but passed no judgment and I also knew just how personally he took every injury, ever single scratch obtained by one of his men.

Because of this, I understood at least some of the pain he felt when Osgiliath fell; the very city he and his brother had fought so hard to regain, once again fallen into enemy hands. Many men had died that night.

I comforted him the best I could after he returned to Minas Tirith, holding him close for many hours, during which he did not utter a word. In truth, I was at a loss of what to do for him. I had never lost a man in battle before having spent all my life in the relative safety of the city guards.

That is not to say I had not seen death before, but breaking up brawls between citizens, no matter how nasty, could never be the same to losing a man to orcs.

He only spoke when I moved away to request some food for him knowing that he would starve himself otherwise, although I knew it would take much coaxing for him actually to eat it.

“I wish for you to take me tonight my love,” he said completely out of the blue.

It was a request which took me by complete surprise. Never once in the many years we had been together had he asked me to do this, though he probably would have consented if I had ever felt the need to ask.

“Are you sure, my lord?” I asked, somewhat uncertain about the situation, sitting back down close to him as I had before and searching his eyes for the answer to my question.

“Yes,” he replied, wrapping his arms around my neck and placing soft kisses down my neck. “I am numb. Make me feel again.”

How could I refuse? I had never refused him anything before, and I could not bring myself to start now, even though I felt myself completely unworthy for such a gift no matter how much I desired it.

I was just about to answer when there was a knock at the door and so I took his hands and squeezed them gently before getting up to answer it.

“You must eat first,” I said firmly, returning with the tray the servant had given me.

As Faramir shook his head, I scowled. “I have never asked anything of you, do you deny me this?”

The words came out much angrier than I had intended but I could not help it, all I wanted was to take care of him. We were on the brink of war and I needed him to keep his strength up if there was any hope that he would survive it.

He picked idly at the plate of food I gave him, but to his credit he did try and eat a little before pushing the food away.

I removed the plate and then pushed Faramir backwards until he lay on the bed, my hands remaining on his shoulders as I straddled his hips.

“And now,” I said with a mischievous grin. “I believe you wanted something from me.”

I could not help but notice that he looked so vulnerable that night, as though he was completely broken and so I was determined to make him feel every bit as worshipped as he should be.

I removed his items of clothing slowly, almost teasingly, purposely running my fingertips over all his most sensitive places as he did so. He whimpered quite beautifully as I brushed over his nipples, already erect with desire, and I could not help but be pleased that I could provoke such a reaction.

I undressed myself quickly and then moved myself back into position wanting to have the feeling of his skin brushing against mine.

It always surprised me how intense my emotions were every time we were together in this way. I had expected the feelings to dull over time, but this had not proven to be the case. This time was different however, which I believe was due to what he asked of me, I had butterflies in my stomach, nervous in case things went wrong or in case I hurt him, but I was also very excited, this was an honour I had never expected to receive.

Suddenly an idea struck me and I could not help but grin to myself, Faramir wanted to feel, and so I would help him by blocking off another of his senses.

“Do you trust me,” I whispered seductively in his ear.

“Aye,” he replied. “I trust you with my life.

I smiled again as I tore off a strip of material from my undershirt, and whispered to him again as I fastened it over his eyes:

“Shut off your other senses; give yourself over to me, just feel.”

I turned him over and positioned him on his knees before planting soft kisses down his back and onto his buttocks. With one hand I started to stroke his rapidly hardening length, while I positioned myself underneath him so I could take his sacks of flesh into my mouth.

I sucked and licked and ran my teeth gently across them, something that I knew Faramir adored, until he started wriggling and moaning.

“Gods Beregond, I need more,” he cried out, wanting me to end the torture. But I was not yet ready to end my fun; in fact I had only just begun. One thing I had learnt about Faramir was that he could be as patient as a saint with most things, but this certainly was not one of them.

I stepped up my assault by running my tongue along between his buttocks and over his puckered entrance causing him to buck and cry out in surprise.

“Shh,” I shushed him like a colt during a thunderstorm, running my hands over the thin skin on the inner pat of his thighs, while my tongue continued to trace mindless patterns in places where Faramir had never thought to touch himself. I had never tried this on anyone else before, I did not have a countless string of prior lovers to have built an experience on – but I worshipped my Faramir and he absolutely had to know the full extent of it.

Another idea came to my mind and I sat up to kneel behind Faramir, gently pushing his thighs apart until he was forced to lie down on his belly with his legs spread. I took a moment to behold my beautiful lover who at that time looked like an offering fit for the Valar. Before the feeling of humility got any stronger, I decided it was wiser to act more and think less. Our time together was precious and I would not waste one more second on musings, I thought as I straddled Faramir’s hips and leant over to place a small kiss at the base of his neck where the back began. He gasped and bucked under me and his movement brought the next vertebra to my lips. Noting fleetingly that my beloved captain was skinnier than it was healthy for a man of his build, I kissed the delicate bone and bit down gently, licking over it to soothe and arouse at the same time.

I continued my ministrations until he started to buck, and wriggle and moan, I knew then that he was close to begging me to end the torture, and that was one thing I was not prepared to make him do; my master should beg to no one, it was time to put him out of his misery.

I reached for the bottle of oil, which now lived constantly by my bedside and uncorked it, but I found myself pausing as I was about to pour some in my hands.

“Are you sure you want this?” I asked, needed to make sure that this was not something Faramir would wake to regret in the morning.

“Yes,” he almost spat at me in frustration but now desperate for release.

“Relax,” he added reassuringly. “I will not regret this, I could never regret us.”

I sighed, here was me determined to make Faramir feel better, yet once again it was him was reassuring me. Pausing no longer I coated my hands in oil, and once again ran my fingers across his sacred entrance.

I ran my tongue along his neck at the same time as slipping my first finger inside his body, knowing that it would distract him, and was instantly surprised by his tightness as his muscles clenched tight around me. I stretched him carefully, moving my finger in and out while continuing to nibble on his neck and shoulders.

“I love you,” I whispered in his ear as I added the second finger, they were words I had said to him before, but never often, and somehow I could not help but think I loved him more in this moment than I ever had before.

I moved my fingers in a circular motion, stretching the skin as much as possible, and when I felt him tense, I curled them round and brushed over his prostate. The noises he made were all so beautiful, and they were arousing me to no end, it was all I could do not to take him there and then.

How I managed to maintain my control when I added the third finger, I do not know, I was growing so impatient, and so was my master, but there was no way I was going to take the next step until I was sure he was ready, there was no way I could risk hurting him.

Only when I was completely satisfied that he was stretched fully did I pull out. Faramir whimpered at the loss, and pushed himself back towards me, begging for me inside him without actually saying the words.

“Turn over,” I commanded him, removing the blindfold before explaining “I want to be able to see your eyes as I do this.”

This he did, and my breath was taken away at the look of sheer desire that shone in his eyes. I paused again to recompose myself as I felt the nerves begin to overtake me, what if I hurt him? What if he hated it? But all such thoughts disappeared as he took the oil from the side and spread some on my arousal, then he positioned himself ready; he had always been the one on control.

I leant over to kiss him as I pushed myself into him, drowning out the moan which left his mouth, and then I paused, allowing him to adjust to the feeling of me inside him. I waited for his signal to continue.

“You feel good,” he said reassuringly. “Move.”

And so I did. Slowly at first, struggling to find a rhythm, but then faster and more purposely as my confidence grew, it felt so incredible and Faramir felt so tight around me that every stroke almost took my breath away.

It did not take long before I found myself heading rapidly towards release, and for that I was a little ashamed, I had wanted to make this last, for Faramir and myself. As my movements sped up more Faramir’s moans became more frequent and I knew that he was close to.

“Come with me,” I begged before devouring his mouth in another kiss.

I have never felt anything like the intensity of my release before, and I even think that I blacked out for a moment as I did so, but I remember Faramir crying my name at the same time I did his.

Exhausted I grabbed a cloth to clean us with before gathering Faramir up in my arms and settling down to a blissful nights sleep, and for the first time, I heard him say he loved me just as the night took me.

In the morning, I awoke alone although that in itself was not unusual, we could not take the risk of being seen together, and so despite the fact I loved to wake up with Faramir by my side, it was reserved only for those special occasions when we were away from the prying eyes of the citadel.

It was only when I saw the note folded neatly and placed upon my tunic did I begin to worry. I did not need to read his words to know what he was going to do.

I dressed quicker than I have ever done before and sprinted out of the citadel; but it was too late.

The trumpets sounded and I looked over the wall, praying to all and every higher being that existed that I was wrong about what I expected to see, for there was no way I would be able to get to the city gates in time to stop it. But alas, I was not wrong.

There I saw my love and my master riding out of the gates with a group of men, leading them out to certain death.

“Is it not wonderful? Captain Faramir is going to take back Osgiliath like his brother did before him,” said a fellow spectator, beaming happily at me, not understanding the suicidalness of the mission as I, and my fellow soldiers did.

I felt sick to my stomach, how did I not realise what he had planned earlier? All the signs were there! How on earth could I have been too late?

It was only when I could see him no more did I turn away and read the note he had left me.

Forgive me my love for not saying goodbye, but I knew that if I told you my intentions then you would beg me to stay. And if I could not bring myself to refuse, for it is my duty to go, you would insist on riding by my side.

Too many good men will die this day; I will not let you be one of them. I have to know that you are safe!

In danger of falling apart there and then, I held my head high and walked with purpose back to my quarters, hoping that no one would stop me to talk or to question where I was going. The tears forming in the corners of my eyes were threatening to fall and I had to keep telling myself that I would not cry, not in public where everyone could see, these were for my master alone.

Reaching my destination, I got not further than closing the door behind me when the dam broke and I slumped to the floor in the most unmanly of sobs.

It was the hobbit, Pippin who disturbed me sometime later. I came round on the bed, clutching Faramir’s pillow tight to my chest. It still smelt of his unique, somewhat earthy smell, and I had obviously found much comfort from it, but how I got there, and for how long, I could not say, but I came to my senses as I was shaken, surprisingly hard by the shoulder.

“There are many scared men out there,” said the hobbit. “Everyone is needed to make a stand; war will soon be upon us. Fight for what Faramir believed in, make him proud of you.”

How Pippin knew I do not know, but I was grateful for his words, it was exactly what I needed to hear. Victory for Gondor and the return of the King, this is what Faramir believed in and so I would do my part to see it come true.

I got up and splashed some water on my face and tried my best to compose myself. After taking a deep breath I walked determinedly to the door.

“Right my friend, we have duties to attend to,” I said as I pulled the door open.

I arrived at my post some moments later and took up the same statue-like position I always took, standing motionless, but always ready to pounce, just like a cat does a mouse. But I stayed like that barely moments before starting to pace up and down the entrance of the citadel, I just could not concentrate. Every minute seemed like agonising hours, and I knew that I would get no rest until my master returned home safe and well, until I could hold him in my arms once again.

At every noise, and every shout, I ran from my post to look over to the wall in the desperate hope that I might see him, but deep down, I knew that Faramir would not return while he could still fight.

Finally some riders appeared on the horizon but they were heavily pursued, the nazgul and orcs picking them off one by one. The situation was hopeless and there was nothing I could do.

I can not describe the feeling of relief that washed over me as the gates opened and the swan-knights of Dol Amroth rode out onto the battlefield, now there was hope for these men.

I ran, ran all the way from the citadel to the city gates. There was but a glimmer of hope that Faramir would be one of the few survivors and I was clinging desperately to it.

By the time I reached the gates, most of the survivors, though they were few in number, had already reached the safety of Minas Tirith and I could not see Faramir among them.

It was Prince Imrahil who rode in last. And there he was, my Faramir, cradled in the Prince’s arms. I tried desperately to push my way through the crowd to get to him, but they would not let me pass. I was beside myself with fear; he was not moving, but he was alive… he had to be alive.

The relief I felt when Imrahil called for a healer is indescribable, but it filled me with an even greater sense of determination that Gondor would win this war against evil, and that Faramir would finally see the tree bloom as he had wished for all his life.

I barked at the soldiers to return to their post, and I returned to mine, although there was nothing I wanted to do more than rush to my lover’s side, but I knew that I would not be allowed to get anywhere near him, and besides, the healers needed to care for him now.

Pippin was waiting patiently for my return and I quickly told him all I had seen. Once I had finished I crouched down next to him ands placed my hands on his shoulders, as I hoped this would help him understand the important of what I was about to ask him.

“Pippin, you must return to Denethor now. But if you hear of any change in Faramir’s condition, you must come and tell me at once. Understand?”

He nodded and told me not to worry before he disappeared back into the citadel.

The day was long and dark, the unnatural weather adding to the nervousness of the men around me. Out in the fields in front of the city, the battle had begun and even the Rohirrim had arrived, just like Mithrandir had promised they would. But still, Pippin had brought no word of my master.

I had heard talk, whispers that Faramir was dying, but I chose not to believe them, blocking the words out angrily from my mind; if they were true, then Pippin would come.

The orcs and other unspeakable evils breached our first defences and had now swarmed the lower part of the city. I formed part of the last defence and so it was time to prepare myself for what was now inevitable.

It was then that I saw Pippin running frantically towards me.

The look on his face told me that the news was bad, but even so, it took me a while to digest what he had said because it sounded so unbelievable.

“Denethor has gone mad; he is going to burn Faramir alive!”

“Go and get Mithrandir! Quickly!” I cried in despair as I ran to where Pippin had just come from.

The porter would not open the door, calling me a traitor for disobeying the orders of the steward. Well maybe I was, but I was not the one stood there while the Steward tried to commit murder, the murder of his own son.

I had never drawn my sword against a fellow soldier before, and I am not proud of myself for doing it, but he had left me with no choice.

The rest of what happened is somewhat of a blur, I was possessed, my only thought was to reach Faramir, to reach him before it was too late.

Three men of Gondor fell by my hand that day yet I remember little of it. The only memories I have are that of the stench of oil which filled the room and the sight of my beloved lying there upon a pyre. He looked so pale and worn, as if he had aged twenty years over night, but he was still just as beautiful to me as he had always been.

I vaguely remember Pippin arriving with Mithrandir just as I threw myself between Denethor and the oil soaked pyre. I pushed Faramir as hard as I could, sending us both tumbling to the ground just as his father lit it with a flame.

I clutched Faramir tightly against my chest, stroking his cheek, I had to protect him, had to look after him. I was not about to let him go for a moment. He stirred slightly, and to my delight he murmured my name, but then passed once more into unconsciousness.

I pulled him even closer to me as tears ran down my face, tears of realisation of just how close I came to losing him.

“I am here my love,” I whispered, rocking him gently in my arms. “Everything will be alright now, I am not going to leave your side, not even for a second, I swear it.”

It was a promise, that thanks to Mithrandir, I was able to keep, as he bid me to escort Faramir to the Houses of Healing and to guard him with my life; an order I was all too willing to carry out, and I did not move from Faramir’s side for a moment. I held his hand, mopped his brow and whispered words of devotion over and over again in his ear, not knowing how much longer I had by his side.

In the eyes of Gondor I was a traitor, and that was punishable by death.

When first I laid my eyes on the man who was our king, he stuck me as a man noble and kind, yet I knew that he would also be strong and ruthless; it was he, and no one else who would be the decider of my fate.

As he sat beside Faramir and did his best to heal his wounds, our eyes met, and I saw understanding there.

“My lord,” I bowed my head to him before I continued. “I know that I left my post, and I know that I spilled the blood of innocent soldiers, whose only crime was to follow blindly the orders of Denethor, and for that, I accept my punishment of death. But I beg of you, allow me to stay with Faramir until he wakes, so that I may say goodbye. He has lost so much already, do not let him wake and find me gone also.”

“I understand why you did what you did, Beregond,” he replied. “And I know the punishment for your crimes, but I will not pass judgement on you now. I am not yet king, and so you must wait to hear your fate. I will not take you from Faramir now.”

Aragorn stayed with us for a long time and the concentration on his face told me that the situation was serious. Faramir’s fever was dragging on and on, refusing to break, but never once did the new king lose faith that my lord would pull through.

The moment when Faramir woke was one of the happiest in my life, and though I felt a stab of jealousy that it was to Aragorn he directed his first words, it did not last long as he squeezed my hand and smiled at me.

“I could feel you here beside me,” he said to me in a hoarse voice, barely reaching above a whisper. “I could not leave you again.”

The next few weeks passed quickly and Faramir grew stronger day by day. I stayed by him, offering him help every step of the way, from feeding him in the early stages, and then providing him with support as he walked again for the first time upon shaky legs.

As soon as he was able, it came as no surprise that he wanted to start organising Aragorn’s coronation, saying that Gondor must have her king as soon as possible. It was not a day I was looking forward to, still not knowing my fate, but I asked in whatever way he asked of me, just wanting to be around him.

But now, I sit here with my master, my Faramir, back in the little traveller’s hut where this all started; and we are celebrating.

Celebrating the return of the king to the throne of Gondor, how beautiful the white tree is now it is bloom once more, and we are celebrating Faramir’s new position as Prince of Ithilien.

But most of all we are celebrating my new position, for no longer will I be wearing the black and silver livery of the city guards, and nor am I to be punished for my crimes. For my dedication and loyalty to my master, King Elessar, has appointed me the Captain of the White Company, guardians of the Prince of Ithilien.

And that suits myself and Faramir just fine; after all, it is all I have ever wanted to do.



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