Faramir Fiction Archive

The (relatively) short version of the happenings here in Gondor. (Letter #7) (G)

07 May 2009 | 1975 words

Title: The (relatively) short version of the happenings here in Gondor. (Letter #7)
Rating: G
Fandom: LOTR
Word count: 1839
Characters: Haldir/ Faramir, Rúmil/Orophin, Denethor, Boromir
Beta: The smoochable and ever so talented minxkat who truly makes the best suggestions. Trust me, you’re lucky I have her. :)
Author’s Notes:
1. Written for 10_letters Prompt: 028. Headboard
2. No money was made from this. All characters belong to JRR Tolkien and his estate.
3. SUMMARY: Haldir’s plan progresses. Or does it?
4. Totally AU – follows neither bookverse nor movieverse.

Letter #1 · Letter #2 · Letter #3 · Letter #4 · Letter #5 · Letter #6

Dear Rúmil and Orophin,

It has been three weeks since my last letter. I have started to write you many times, but, up until last night, there has been little to say.

The (relatively) short version of the happenings here in Gondor since my last letter is as follows.

First of all, let me say that I am boring. So boring, in fact, that I wanted to tie my own tongue just to stop the incessant, meaningless words that have been falling from my lips every time Boromir is around! I want to bore him, tire him, make him want to spend less time with me, but, alas, he is still here.

ALL THE TIME, HE IS STILL HERE.

I have talked about every flower, tree and weed on Arda. I have discussed books I love (nonfiction such as A Discussion of Dwarves and How To Avoid, Ignore and Overlook Them, Volumes 1, 2, and 3 and fiction such as Boromir would hate – i.e., Moonlight Becomes Him), books I hate (Elves and Orcs – Not So Different After All? to name one), food I love (fresh melon grated over sweet cream with lembas bread), and food I hate (that horrible pastry Lindir makes every year for my birthday! (Thank the Gods I will miss it this year!)). I have explained how talans are built and told Boromir every single bit of Elven history I have ever been told, while studiously avoiding the interesting topics of conversation such as certain more… erotic… stories (remember that book called The Slave Who Loved Me?) and stories about our archery and swordsmithing skills – anything that Boromir would enjoy hearing about.

I have not let him see me laugh, for I wish him to believe I have no sense of humor. I have barely touched my food when he is around because I have no appetite in his company and because I want him to think that I eat little but lembas bread.

All this to say… he is still here. He will not give me a moment’s peace! I have to keep seeing him, for it would only take one command from him and I would be banished from Minas Tirith forever, and would never see my sweet Faramir again. That is the one thing I could never live with – a life without my incredible Ranger.

And speaking of my dearest one – I have not been able to speak privately with Faramir or even Denethor for over a month now. Boromir keeps me secluded and my door guarded. And always, they see me with Boromir. Though I do not laugh or smile when he is next to me, he does both… often, so I am sure that we come off as a somewhat happy couple to those who do not know better.

Boromir is here when I awaken in the mornings, standing patiently outside of my chamber doors, and he does not let me out of his sight the rest of the day. During the few times he manages to get a word in edgewise, he tells me stories of his own bravery and intelligence, of how many of the men in the city pursue him, and how even the warriors of Gondor would give their eyeteeth for one night with him. He is so full of himself, it makes me ill!

Last night, however, he seemed different.

We dined in the great hall as usual, and everything was much the same for a while. I could barely keep my eyes off my beloved Ranger, who carefully avoided looking at me. He seemed so lost, so alone – and I wondered how Boromir could do this to him, or how Denethor could let it happen. My sweet Faramir would just stare down at his plate, sometimes pick at his food or speak quietly to his father, while Boromir feasted on whatever food would pass before him and talked entirely too loudly, always findings a way to turn so that his leg rested against mine under the table. Faramir was wasting away before my very eyes, while his brother, his annoying, obnoxious, insufferable brother’s shoulders broadened and his ego inflated a bit more every day. Denethor looked torn between anger at me and anger at his eldest son, as if he was truly unsure which of us had hurt Faramir the most. He had believed in me for a while, I think, but it has been so long, I cannot blame him for losing hope.

After dinner, Boromir took my arm and led me to my chambers. That is not as odd as it seems, since we have often sat before the fireplace in my rooms and chatted late into the night – me trying to bore him and he listening patiently (the cur!) or telling tales of his own. It is, after all, his home, and another concession I cannot deny him for fear that he will send me away.

Veritas, the house servant and only friend I seem to have here at the moment, had laid the fire so it gave off very little warmth. (I asked him to make my companion as uncomfortable as possible, so the room stays quite chilly). As usual, however, Boromir simply stoked the flames and had them roaring to life in no time at all while I simply sat on the couch and tried not to let him see me sulking.

“You know,” he said as he sat down beside me and frowned when I automatically shifted away, “I have always been considered the more handsome of my father’s sons. Many have said so, and I can often feel eyes shift to me and away from my brother when I enter a room.”

“Everyone has their own tastes,” I said carefully. “Some would certainly prefer your eyes – what color are they? Oh… ..yes… your green eyes over your brother’s beautiful blue ones. His eyes sparkle and change color with his moods – have you ever noticed that? There have to be at least a dozen colors in there, I think, though I have yet to see them all. Still, the ones I have seen…” I sighed and offered Boromir a somewhat wistful smile and shrugged.

He looked at me oddly, but if he thought anything amiss, he hid it well.

“Yes, he has many emotions, my brother,” Boromir nodded. “Too many for me, in fact. He has these ridiculous ideas of romantic evenings spent under the stars, doing nothing more than walking hand in hand for hours, and afternoons spent in the gardens with his head in his lover’s lap as they read a book to one another! I cannot imagine anything more boring… especially when there is so much pleasure to be had in the bed chamber, if you follow me.”

I frowned at Faramir’s brother and furrowed my brow. “True, there is much pleasure to be had there,” I agreed. “I think the perfect evening would be burrowing under the covers with my lover, feeding him fruits and bits of cheese and bread with my fingers and talking about the best books we have ever read and the best music we have ever heard.”

Boromir paled a bit, and I had to bite back a smile. “I was… talking about sex,” he said after a moment. “Hot, sweaty, hold-on-to-the-headboard-for-dear-life sex.”

“Ah… so you enjoy holding on to headboards?” I asked, and had the pleasure of seeing Boromir nearly swallow his tongue. “Yes, I did in my younger days, drive many an Elf into the headboards – and footboards as well – but at my age, sex is not so important. I could easily spend an entire evening kissing the one I love without it ever having to turn into anything more.”

I have to say, at this point, that Boromir looked vaguely ill and more than a little pale, but he didn’t run screaming from the room as I thought he would. The man has fortitude, I will give him that.

And yes, on one level, I was lying, for you know I enjoy my bedroom activities as much as the next Elf. But on another – when I pictured Faramir in my arms, his tentative smile and the stubborn fire in his eyes beneath me, I could honestly happily just kiss and worship his body until the ending of days.

And oddly enough, I think he would like that.

Boromir cleared his throat and watched me with narrow eyes. “I hold the headboard for no one,” he managed, meeting my gaze head on.

I did not even blink. “Neither do I.”

With that, he stood and began pacing the room, muttering under his breath. I caught only words like “ridiculous,” and “foolish,” and “clearly I am the better choice,” and possibly even “he has no idea what he is missing,” before he moved to stand in front of me.

I simply looked up at him from my position on the couch and smiled.

“You… you boring, bookish, haughty, arrogant, self-centered, ridiculously emotional Elf!” His voice was loud, his tone bitter. “You look beautiful, I will give you that, but, by the Gods, our evenings together have been the most tedious, mind-numbingly tiresome hours I have ever spent in my entire life!”

I tucked my hair behind one ear and nodded. “Why, Boromir, I though you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me. Night after night of my stories and books and…”

“Never!”

And with that, Boromir strode across the room, opened the door and stepped out of my chambers.

I heard Veritas out in the hallway, as usual, waiting to see if I wanted any dinner since I ate so little while in Boromir’s company. “May I see if the Elf needs anything?” he asked Boromir timidly.

“No. He is not to leave that room, or I will have your head, Veritas.”

The next sound I heard was the lock on my door slipping into place and Boromir’s footsteps as he stomped down the hall.

“Haldir?”

I moved quickly to stand by the door and rested my hand upon it. “Veritas?”

“Haldir, what happened? Boromir looked very… odd.”

I pondered for a moment and closed my eyes. “I have no idea, my friend. But I doubt it was anything good.”

---

It has been nearly half an hour since he left, and I have heard nothing. I thought to pass the time by writing you this letter, but, seeing it all written down, I wonder if I have made a terrible mistake. While I do not think Boromir is a terribly bad man (perhaps just an arrogant and spoiled one), I could have misread the situation.

I will slide this letter under the door for Veritas to send to you.

Hope for the best, my brothers. I know Denethor would not allow his sons to physically harm one another, but no such rules protect me.

And if I die… then who would be left to love Faramir the way he deserves to be loved?

I will let you know when something – anything – changes.

All my love,

Haldir

On to Letter 8

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