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15 January 2007 | 4369 words
Title: Matrimonial Problems
Warnings: strong mention of het
Beta: none but repeatedly proofread. Still all mistakes are mine
Disclaimer: Aragorn and Faramir still belong to Mr. Tolkien, not to me (sigh!) Just played around with them in my crazy mind.
Summary: Two ex-rangers with problems in their marriages and lots of wine to loosen their tongues
Archives OEAM, Mirrormere, VOLA-Archive
My Site: http://phytha.livejournal.com/
Feedback: Yes please
A. N.: Written for Slashy Santa 2006 for Etharei
Request: I’d like it to be not overly angsty, and involves alcohol (the inebriation of either or both of the characters in the pairing).
“Something feels terribly wrong, don’t you think so, dear.” The queen’s brow was furrowed with concern as she spoke these words. “Faramir and Éowyn really acted quite strange today. It almost seemed like they wouldn’t want us to visit Ithilien.”
“Yes, love, I got the same impression. It’s been by far the oddest welcome I ever received. Something is amiss but they won’t speak about it. I really tried to get something out of Faramir but he simply kept telling me that everything’s just fine. As I could find out the country seems to be at peace, all the counselors I spoke to truly knew nothing about problems within the realm or the palace. But did you notice how Faramir and Éowyn seemed to hide behind formalities when all the times before we were greeted as dear friends? Did you see how the avoided any eye-contact with us, like they’d feel embarrassed by our visit? I’d really like to know what’s going on here. They are our friends and maybe they need our help. I wouldn’t like to see them suffering.” The king’s voice trailed off, he was almost speaking to himself.
Arwen smiled fondly at her husband. She knew how much he cared for their friends, how much he wanted everybody to be happy. With a regretful sight it came to her mind that although he tried so hard he was far from happy himself. Maybe it would be good for him to have some friends to care for.
“We’ll find out what ails them.” She said reassuringly, “I’ll invite Éowyn to my rooms this evening to have a little chat with her, you know like from girl to girl. And you, dear I think you should take some bottles of wine and have a manly talk with your steward. They can’t refuse if summoned by their liege. I’m sure ere the night is over we’ll know every single one of their secrets and then we’ll figure out how to help them.”
Aragorn and his wife were on their annual visit to Ithilien. They had both been looking forward to spend a great time with their closest friends like they’d done all the years before. But this time there hadn’t been a warm and friendly welcome instead their hosts had strictly kept to the formalities of a royal visit. Éowyn had been barely able to utter the words of greeting her cheeks flushed and her eyes erring around, never ever looking at her regal guests. And Faramir hadn’t done much better, his face pale like he’d see a ghost and his whole body shaking. The body language of the couple spoke clearly of utter discomfort and the desperate attempt to hide something which they thought to be embarrassing beyond measures. After only the basic phrases of welcome Éowyn and Faramir both had almost fled the presence of their bewildered friends leaving them to the servants to be shown to their rooms.
Dinner passed on in uncomfortable silence. As much as the king and the queen tried to involve their hosts into light conversation all the got were monosyllabic answers and timid sidelong glances as Faramir and Éowyn still weren’t able to meet their eyes openly. The downcast couple barely touched their meals and it was clearly visible that only the respect for their noble visitors kept them from fleeing out of the room in a rush. As soon as hospitality allowed they excused themselves from the table and tried to make a silent retreat. But their guests had just been waiting for this moment. As if she hadn’t noticed that something was direly amiss Arwen approached Éowyn with a beaming smile and chatting amiably about a “charming evening just for ladies”, slung her arm around her friend’s shoulder and gently ushered her towards the door. With a beseeching look at her husband, the eyes wide in her suddenly pale face, the young woman allowed herself to be led out of the dining hall.
Faramir managed an involuntary half-step towards his wife but there was nothing he could do. Inspecting the tips of his toes he clenched and unclenched his fists in a helpless gesture.
“So there seems nothing to be wrong between them,” Aragorn muttered silently to himself, “they still act like a couple. But there obviously is something they try to hide from us, something they dread us to know so much that they dare not to be alone in our presence. I’m really curious to find out what it is. And find out I will, even if I have to make him drunk until he gets sick.”
“A word, steward!” Swiftly moving towards the still dumbstruck man the king blocked his way towards the door. “There are some matters which I would like to discuss with you. Would you please join me in my rooms where we could talk in private and maybe share a glass of wine or two?”
Faramir turned round with an expression of sheer anguish on his face. This was the moment he had feared the whole evening. His first impulse was to gainsay his liege’s wish, to tell him that he was otherwise occupied or that he was coming down with a fever, or that he had just died or anything that kept him out of the dreaded presence. But this was his king he was speaking to and not only his king but also his best friend and as far as Faramir knew him he would never cease to insist to know everything what was going on. He already had the awful suspicion to have given away too much of his miserable condition. So the only thing he could do was to straighten his shoulders and nod his agreement with what he hoped to be a reassuring smile.
When they arrived at Aragorn’s rooms everything had been arranged for a restful encounter. Two comfortable chairs were placed in front of the fire and on a small table stood an already uncorked bottle of the potent red wine of Rivendell’s vintages together with two glasses. Some more bottles were to be found on a shelf beside the door.
“Take a seat and relax, my friend.” Pouring two glasses of wine the king took a seat himself and started what he hoped to be a pleasant conversation to loosen up his mate’s troubled mind. Ignorant to the monosyllabic answers given only reluctantly he went on and on talking about mostly unimportant incidents and matters of the kingdom, from time to time mingling his words with really lame jokes just to test Faramir’s state of mind. Every now and then he would bring out a toast, to their friendship, to the kingdom, to whatever came to his mind, thusly making sure that his companion drained glass after glass of the heavy beverage
The steward still seemed to be in quite some nervous tension, he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, eyes darting nervously around the room ever avoiding to look straight at his regal company he clung to his glass like it would be his only source of safety. And said glass was kept well filled by a very attentive monarch.
Only when the first bottle was emptied and replaced by a second the wicked treatment showed the first results. Faramir’s body rested more relaxed in his chair and from time to time a slight smile graced his lips.
Aragorn felt very delighted by the way his plan worked and slightly intensified his efforts. Although he was careful not to get too drunk himself he could not stay behind, having to take at least a sip of his own wine with every toast and soon felt the slight dizziness of too much alcohol.
When the steward giggled loudly at a really very lame joke the king thought him ready for the next step of his interrogative endeavor.
“Now tell me, my friend,” he asked sternly but with an openhearted reassuring smile, “what’s going on here. I can clearly see that you have some severe problems. You can’t deny that you have been acting quite, ehm, strangely since we arrived. Still I couldn’t find out something to be amiss in Ithilien. So you’ve got me really curious. You’re my friend and you know you can tell me everything, maybe I’m able to help you with whatever it is.”
Faramir looked like an animal which had found out that it had been caught in a trap. His whole body tensed and he made a sudden movement towards the door as if he wanted to try to break free but he knew that all his efforts to avoid Aragorn’s questioning would be in vain.
“Stop fidgeting,” he was told friendly, “you should know me well enough to be aware that you have no chance to get away until I have heard what ails you. I can’t imagine it to be so bad that you can’t tell me and I’m sure you’ll feel much better once you’ll have relieved your heart.”
“It,…it’s nothing, really!” the young man stammered blushing vividly, “Nothing that concerns you. Just… just some personal matters, just something between my wife and me. Personal matters which shall be sorted out soon. Really, nothing to bother you.”
“Don’t think I’m a fool, Faramir,” Aragorn sighted pouring them both another glass of wine, “I believe you, that it’s something that’s occurred between Éowyn and you but I just can’t imagine it hasn’t got to do something with Arwen and me. The way both of you acted towards us this whole day, all this squirming and blushing whenever we were in the same room, you couldn’t even look at us! You treated us like strangers who you were forced to welcome not like the friends we thought us to be .Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you tried to avoid our presence. And don’t tell me your problems haven’t got to do with us.” Taking a deep gulp of his wine he added with a slight grin in order to let his words sound less harsh “Well, you know, you surely wouldn’t have acted like this, if it would only have been the, ehm, you know, the certain little problem every man has to deal with from time to time. I can’t and won’t press you to tell me but I really want you to trust me and allow me to give you any possible help.”
For some minutes the two men sat in silence sipping their wine. From time to time Faramir opened his mouth as if he was going to say something but every time he closed it again, shaking his head in a slightly desperate motion and clinging to his glass even more ardently.
Finally the king broke the silence: “Look at me, mate! If happened what I think that happened, stay assured that I never ever encouraged Éowyn when I noticed that she thought to feel something for me. I’ve never touched her or even spoke to her other than in an official and friendly way. I ever told her that I was not hers to have. So if… if she happened to … to utter the wrong name when you were …ehm… performing your … ehm well …your matrimonial duties it doesn’t need to mean anything at all. Maybe her mind was still full of the preparations for our visit. Well …don’t know if this was very helpful.” His voice trailed off insecure of what to say to not embarrass his friend further.
Shivering with discomfort the younger man listened. He had known about his wife’s desperate love since he’d first met her, in some way this very fact had brought them together in the first place and he never held it against her when she cried out the wrong name at the summit of pleasure. Actually this happened on a quite regularly base and he was almost used to it. But what had happened to him last night had been quite another thing, mortifying him beyond any measure made even worse by Éowyn’s fuming reaction. It had been clear to them at the very moment that they had to keep this indignity secret from their royal visitors but they had not been able to shut it out of their minds whenever they were nears their guests, thus making it impossible for them to act like their usual selves. Cold sweat of utter terror broke out of every single one of Faramir’s pores as the picture of Éowyn being led away by Arwen for a “chat among girls” came back to his mind. No way that his wife would be able to withstand an elven interrogation, everything would be out in the open. And the queen would tell the king, tomorrow morning he would know the whole thing. Thick drops formed on the desperate man’s forehead as he tried to imagine Aragorn’s reaction to the shameful news. Maybe it would be best if he confessed everything right here and now.
“Well yes,… I know this, it’s happened before but … but this time, this time …it’s just that …that…” The steward’s murmured words faded away as he was not able to finish his sentence. Perhaps he just wasn’t drunk enough so he quickly drained another glass and appreciated the dizzy numbness which started to set his mind at ease.
“Faramir, my friend, always keep in mind that it has been you who brought her so much pleasure. Ah, my friend how much I envy you.” Lost in his own thoughts Aragorn sipped his wine as words started to flow freely out of his mouth, his mind slightly overruled by the strong beverage. “How much I envy you that you can make your wife loose her mind thusly! All I ever get from Arwen is a silent ‘Oh’. Just ‘Oh’, never more as hard as I try . – ‘Oh’ – can you imagine this? – ‘Oh’ – How much I whished to hear her cry out just once, unimportant which name she would choose. I wouldn’t even mind if it were the name of the Dark Lord himself of one of his orcs, if they have names at all. Everything would be better than this damned ‘Oh’.“ Giggling in a bitter fit of laughter the king buried his head in his hands like a man in utter desperation.
Shocked by this sudden revelation but on the other hand glad that his secret was save at least for the moment Faramir willingly jumped on this new thread of thought, eager to soothe his friend.
“This doesn’t have to mean anything at all! Maybe … maybe it’s just an elven thing; maybe they’re all like this …”
“Ah no, my friend, it’s not the way of elves.” Bitterness still seeped clearly through the king’s voice. “You know, when I lived at Imladris I had my room next to the twins’. I always had to stuff my ears with wax to be able to sleep whenever they were at home. And believe me, the walls of the Last Homely House are rather thick. No, my dear friend, it’s not an elven thing, it’s just that I’m not good enough for her. Not good enough for anybody I fear.”
“No, Aragorn, no! Don’t think of you like this. I won’t let you belittle you thusly! I won’t believe what you just told me! Let me …” Mortified the steward bit his lips just in time. The words ‘Let me show you how good you are’ had almost escaped his mouth. Fortunately the king was lost in his misery and had not noticed the almost fatal near-slip of his steward. Desperate to give his words no time to seep into his friend’s consciousness Faramir started to ramble on. “Surely you had many experiences before you got married, there must have been many opportunities to prove your maleness. I mean, look at you, look how beaut- ehm … handsome you are I’m sure you only had to choose, no one would have been able to refuse you.”
“You know, I was brought up in Imladris among the elves and although they ever treated me as their equal I couldn’t stop myself feeling inferior. Always I felt clumsy and ugly compared to their beauty and grace. I never would have approached one of them in matters of the flesh. And then I became a ranger, lived with the free-roaming wardens of the north for many, many years. These have been the best years of my life.” Aragorn’s troubled face softened at the memory of this wonderful time. “I should have stayed with them,” he sighted, “I never wanted to be king and I surely never should have given myself into wedlock. – Wedlock – I hate this word, it has got the term ‘lock’ in it. But I have been so proud when Arwen agreed to marry me after I’d become king. If I had only known … I really miss my time with the rangers.”
“Ah yes, I understand exactly how you feel, my friend! I’ve been a ranger myself for quite some time. I know how great it is. The company of men, the thrill of danger and at night sitting round the fire, sharing food and comfort with one another. Ah how much I miss it!” Eyes bright with blissful memories a dreamy smile grazed the younger man’s lips.
Snapping out of his drunken dizziness the king stared at his friend. Had the steward really just spoken of the action commonly called ‘warrior’s comfort’ the way men living on their own shared their bodies freely to deal with their sexual needs? A shiver ran through his body as an uninvited picture of a naked Faramir writhing in pleasure in the arms of a bold warrior clearly settled in his mind. Suppressing a groan he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his trousers suddenly much too tight.
“Yes, that’s been great. But as you surely know,” still hanging on to his former thread of thought and lost in his vivid imaginations Aragorn’s befuddled mind wasn’t able to let go, “rangers always stay silent when pleasing one another. ‘T would be too dangerous when they were noisy. ‘Cause of the orcs, you know.”
“Do they?” A part of Faramir’s brain shrilled in alarm at what he was about to speak with his king and friend, but the bigger part was happily drowning in alcohol ignoring all warnings. “Well, – they seem to have forgotten to tell me about this one. But they never complained. They actually seemed quite pleased …”
This time Aragorn could not suppress a deep moan. The picture in his mind was replaced with the image of a naked, writhing and MOANING Faramir, crying out his bliss through the dark woods. Involuntary his hand crept towards the growing bulge between his legs.
“Did I say something wrong, did I trouble you? I didn’t mean to …” The rumbling sound brought Faramir out of his reverie and he cast a troubled look at his king. But than his gaze settled on the burgeoning distension in his friend’s trousers and the finger almost stroking over it and his eyes went wide in sudden understanding.
“I’m just mourning my gruesome fate,” with an effort Aragorn managed to regain a part of his composure and stilled his naughty hand. “The cruel fate that kept me to the stern woods of the north with its silent men when I could have roamed the sunny glades of Imladris with you. What a great time we could have had.”
“But we still can!” A new idea was forming in the steward’s head and the words spurted out of his mouth like a sparkling well. “We can still visit the woods of Ithilien together only the two of us without an escort. You are the king you can command that there is no escort. We could pretend to be rangers again only that this time we wouldn’t have to care about orcs. If we start to prepare everything tomorrow morning we could leave ere nightfall. Well,” suddenly insecurity hit him, “that is if you want to do this with me, it’s just an idea you don’t have to….”
“You … you would do this for me?” Stammering in delightful surprise at the unexpected suggestion the king was almost unable to form a coherent thought. The picture of Faramir writhing and moaning in the arms of an unknown warrior being instantly replaced by Faramir writhing and moaning in his own arms, an image that enhanced the pressure in his loins to an almost unbearable degree. “You really would let me take you … ehm … take me there … ehm … take me out there?”
Gliding out of his chair in a swift motion Faramir dropped to his knees in front of his friend. He could feel the heat and smell the musky scent of arousal emanating from Aragorn’s body and it took all his willpower not to bury his face in the inviting lap and grace his lips over the straining hardness clearly evident under the heavy cloth of the trousers. Suddenly he was very aware of his own urgent needs.
“Everything …everything you’ll do to me, my liege, will pleasure me greatly … will be my great pleasure.”
Kneeling next to his steward the king put his arms around the broad shoulders, drawing him near until he was able bury his head in the crook of his neck.
“Ah Faramir, sweet Faramir, if I had only known! But,” cupping his friend’s and maybe soon to be lover’s chin in his palm he looked deep into the blue eyes, bright with emotion, “what will be tomorrow, will you still think like this when you’re sober again? Will you still want to roam the woods with me, will you still want me? Because I know that I will, I wanted, nay loved you since I first met you, although I never would have admitted it, contenting myself to have you as my best friend. But how about you, won’t you regret what occurred between us tonight won’t you be ashamed of what we said and did in a drunken haze?”
“I won’t, I won’t regret anything. Alcohol never has this effect on me. It only lowers my barriers, makes me give in to desires I’d otherwise deny.” Faramir tried to hold his gaze steadily on the stormy grey eyes although he felt a hot blush crawling over his face. “I have to confess something too. You asked my why Éowyn and me acted like …well like we acted today. Well… you were quite near with your conclusion, only … only that it hadn’t been Éowyn to whom it happened. … Well it happened to her too, but that is nothing unusual, but … but this time … this time it happened to me.”
“You … you called out my name while you were …?”
“Well, yes,” only for a short moment the bright eyes were lowered in embarrassment, “you know, Éowyn was so upset after it had happened to her that she wanted to reward me with her mouth. She does not like to do this very much, you know. But I … I just couldn’t stop thinking that she might like it more when it were you instead of me and … and then … something just shifted in my mind and … and I imagined you doing it to me and then … then it suddenly became so good … so very, very good … I came with your name on my lips. Éowyn was not pleased at all, actually she was quite mad at me and we decided that you never must find out.”
“Ah Faramir!” With a hoarse moan the king tried to pull his steward in an even tighter embrace, a movement which made them both loose their balance and set them tumbling to the soft fur on the floor. There they laid clutching at each other like their life would depend on it, kissing and groping, their still clothed bodies moving like one as needful hardness brushed over needful hardness.
“Show me what happened!” Aragorn breathed into his lover’s mouth.
At Faramir’s silent nod he quickly removed the hindering clothes and traced his lips down the quivering body. Faramir arched his back in a keening wail as his yearning flesh was engulfed by the hot wetness of an eager mouth.
“Hush, love, as much as I appreciate this, we should keep it for the woods. ‘T wouldn’t be appropriate if someone heard us.”
“Can’t …feels too good … maybe if you would give me something to fill my mouth … turn over, my liege, and let me put my mouth to better use.”
Groaning Aragorn shifted around gaining his lover access to his aching manhood. The blissful whimpers ad moans vibrating through their bodies swiftly brought them both to a fulminate release.
Snuggling in the afterglow of their pleasure they shared more soft kisses and tender caresses. Finally exhaustion, both physical and emotional got the better part of Faramir and his eyes drifted shut. Aragorn gently shook him out of his reverie.
“Maybe you’d better retreat to your rooms. ‘T wouldn’t be much fun if we’d be found like this com morning. Go get some sleep, love, I’ll write a list of the things we’ll need for our little adventure.”
“Yes, but don’t forget the oil.”
“Never, this will be the first and most important item I write down.”
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The following people read the story, enjoyed it, and would like to thank the author: LN Tora