Faramir Fiction Archive

The Ritual (NC-17)

Written by Valkyrie

22 April 2004 | 36281 words

Title: A Day Out (Part 4/9)
Series: THE RITUAL
Author: Valkyrie (email)
Pairings: Aragorn/Faramir, Aragorn/Arwen (implied)
Rating: NC17
Archive: yes, but let me know where
Warnings: romantic situation between two males -do not read if you do not like
Summary: Aragorn and Faramir spend the day together and the King realizes what he is starting to feel for Faramir.
Authors’ note: this is AU. Some things are loyal to Tolkien’s story; I have changed some events and invented all the rest. If you like to read things canon, this is not a story for you.
Feedback: kind words will be welcome and constructive criticism as well.
Disclaimer: The characters are property of J.R.R. Tolkien. I have not and will not receive any money for this story. It is free for all to read.

Beta Reader original version: Minx
Beta Reader revised version: Chris
What would I have done without you guys? All remaining mistakes are mine.

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PART FOUR – A Day Out

“This is my favourite place in the entire realm,” said Faramir, contemplating the waterfalls from the wide platform of smooth rock where he sat with the King. “This place is beautiful, even more so in nights when Ithil shines so bright the waterfall seems to glow and the foam, formed by the crashing of the water over the rim creates an ethereal mist on the shore. “I remember a time,” he continued, “when the war had not reached this part yet. I used to ride all the way here and sit for hours watching the waterfall, hearing its soothing sound. Not few times Boromir came to drag me out of here. I missed the passing of time in this beautiful place,” said Faramir, his eyes unfocused in remembrance.

“You would love Imladris then. There are many waterfalls and glades that take your breath away,” commented Aragorn, pleased that Faramir seemed at last to be at ease in his presence. “Gondor has her own beauty too.”

Faramir laughed lightly. “Your friend, Prince Legolas, thinks different from what I heard.”

“Oh? And how is that?” replied Aragorn.

“Well, while I was in the houses of healing, I overheard the healers. They gossiped about the whereabouts and sayings of your friends for they had never seen Elves, Dwarves or Halflings before. The lady Éowyn and I laughed much at your dear friends’ expense; you must forgive us for that, Aragorn. The healers found out that while Prince Legolas wanted to fill everything with trees and birds, Gimli wanted to reform the stone foundations and of the Halflings, they said that they eat too many breakfasts.” Faramir looked at Aragorn and laughed louder this time.

“Have you talked with Éowyn?” asked Aragorn; delighted with the way Faramir’s mood had improved.

“Yes,” answered Faramir, calming a little from his laughing fit, “she is a strong and fine lady, she has the heart of a warrior, well… she ‘is’ a warrior. You should have seen her, giving the healers the headache of their lives.” He started to laugh anew.

“I could imagine that,” said Aragorn, “what a pair the two of you would have presented to the healers for I know you were not so judicious either.”

This last sentence seemed very funny to Faramir.

Aragorn was mesmerized by Faramir’s happiness. The young man’s laugh was so rare that when it happened it was a sight to behold. One that was light and spontaneous, as a beam lighting his face, replaced the forlorn look. “You have a beautiful laugh, and I regret I do not see it often,” said Aragorn to a bewildered Faramir.

The young Steward became suddenly shy and Aragorn would have kicked himself for losing Faramir’s laugh so carelessly. “There had not been much to laugh about in those times. Hopefully, that will change now that the King has finally returned?” replied Faramir tentatively.

“That will ‘surely’ change now that the King is here,” said Aragorn, the confidence plain in his voice.

Faramir lay down more comfortably on the grass, a light sigh on his lips. He closed his eyes to feel the sun warm his face and the light breeze lull him. “I do not remember the last time I could do this, just being here, enjoying the day, worries forgotten even if for a little while,” said Faramir, his voice a quiet murmur. “Things definitely have started to change,” he continued with a smile on his lips, his eyes still closed.

Aragorn could do no more than stare. This uninhibited Faramir he liked very much. In his opinion, the young man worried all the time, and tended to think things over a little too much for his own good. He studied the young man a little closer.

The Steward was a little pale; too pale if Aragorn thought about all the hours he had spent outdoors. The recent ordeal was still clear on his face, though now, he definitely looked much improved, the ghostly paleness of death gone. The injury Faramir had suffered would give him trouble for the rest of his life, though, for it was a Nazgûl dart that had wounded him; the nuisance would fade more with the passage of time but it would always be there.

Faramir was now sound asleep; the soothing breeze and good memories had lulled him into slumber. He could not help but reach out and brush a wayward strand of hair from the young man’s face. Faramir stirred a little in his sleep, seeking the comforting hand. Aragorn smiled. His Steward was a trusting soul by nature. He had admitted to himself that he was already lost to this young man, now he was sure. Faramir was a remarkable man, kind and brave, his spirit was a blinding force indeed. He chuckled to himself. Now that times of peace had arrived, the kind soul of his Steward would raze everything in its way, he will blind us all with his shining light, no doubt of it.

After a while Aragorn grew bold and started to caress the young man’s face, tracing with his index finger the contour of the sleeping man’s eyebrows, the eyelashes, the perfect nose, the slightly open luscious lips that right now begged to be kissed, and he could not refuse such a plea. So he slowly lowered himself and lightly touched with his lips those of the sleeper. The touch was so sweet it begged for further tasting, so he kissed him again.

Faramir was dreaming and it was such a good dream. He rode through the countryside with his King and the sun was setting on the horizon. They had decided to stop at the waterfalls and spend the night there. When the first stars showed their sparkling light they arrived at the site. In his dream, the light of the stars was so bright it lit the whole place so they did not need a fire, for the weather was warm as well. They laid the bedrolls beside one another and went to sleep. However, sleep was elusive for both of them so they started a conversation.

In his dream, his King moved closer to him, very slowly reached out, and ever so lightly caressed his face. Then his King drew closer still and tenderly kissed him on the lips.

For some strange reason, Faramir did not feel shy or ashamed to experience such emotions of lust and desire for his King. He closed his eyes, the sensations deepening as well as the kiss. He parted his lips to give further access to his King, his heart was racing, his senses on overload.

He opened his eyes to see the grey eyes of his King shining under the bright light of midday.

Aragorn deepened the kiss and unexpectedly Faramir parted his lips further, inviting him to taste him thoroughly, which he gladly did.

Then Faramir opened his eyes halfway, the hooded gaze full of desire. And just as suddenly, Faramir froze, wide eyes staring right at him, desire replaced by embarrassment.

Aragorn quickly broke apart from the young man, an apologetic look on his face. “I am sorry, Faramir. I do not know what came over me to take such a liberty. Please forgive me.” Aragorn waited for the other man’s reaction.

Faramir was stunned and quickly sat up. He had been dreaming they were at this same place but… In his dream, it was night and Aragorn was kissing him but… Aragorn had just kissed him right now and it was, obviously, midday and… He could still feel the heat on his lips and he wanted more of that, he wanted to feel it again, now, being wide-awake.

“Do it again, please,” asked Faramir, his gaze unwavering.

“What… But…” It was Aragorn’s turn to be nonplussed. This, he had not expected. The young man was very shy and he never thought he would get carried away in the kiss so Faramir would notice. And now that the young man was awake and had caught him in the act, he had expected him to recoil, not this forward petition for more. Something had happened for he would have not dreamt of this version of Faramir.

Aragorn saw enthralled how Faramir lifted his right hand to his own lips and touched them as though to assure himself the kiss had really happened. The Steward’s unwavering gaze started to shift, started to doubt and Aragorn saw how Faramir abruptly lowered his hand and his gaze. This last gesture made Aragorn emerge from his astonished state; he quickly reached out and tenderly touched the side of Faramir’s face, bidding the young Steward to lift his gaze.

Faramir looked at Aragorn once more with hope showing in his eyes. He lift his hand once more, this time to rest upon the hand touching his cheek, he inclined his head a little, closed his eyes and enjoyed the tender contact.

Aragorn closed the short distance separating them and took Faramir’s head between his hands. Slowly, drew near the other man and kissed him tenderly at first, but then, increasing the pressure and deepening the touch.

For Faramir the kiss was gentle, consuming, and possessive and bone melting. He would have slid down onto the floor were he not already sitting. The kiss ended and they parted; he looked straight into Aragorn’s grey gaze, and was lost all over again. He reached out and touched Aragorn’s lips, feeling the warmth there, feeling the faltering breathing, matching his own.

“You are beautiful; in every sense, you are beautiful. Your soul feels… pure, it seems war has not touched it, nor tarnished it,” said Aragorn. He felt as though his body was on fire. He wanted to ravish Faramir without delay but he knew he could not. Faramir must not lay with any man, not even him, before the night of the Ritual.

Aragorn realized he cared deeply for Faramir, not only as a friend, he wanted more. He had fallen for the young man, unaware of the moment that it had happened. He should see this as a complication, but instead, he felt glad. He knew he could bring happiness to Faramir, if the young man let him. He would have to talk to Arwen about this because now, he was not sure he could leave Faramir if his wife bid him to do it. Though, Arwen had stated very clearly how she felt already. Nevertheless, he wanted to be sure. He would talk to her as soon as they were back at the city; he only hoped she would understand for he could not live without her either.

Faramir stared back at him, waiting, saying nothing, but blushing prettily. It was clear he was unaccustomed to praises, even more if said praises were about his beauty.

“Faramir, what do you expect of the Ritual?” Aragorn asked suddenly.

Faramir was taken by surprise by the sudden change in subject, his face reddening anew by the thoughts the question aroused. “I…,” he faltered, lowering his eyes. “Could we please talk of something else? …I do not feel comfortable talking about it,” asked Faramir with pleading eyes full of embarrassment.

“I want to know, Faramir, and though I said you do not have to answer the questions you felt uncomfortable with, I would prefer if you answer me this one time. I will understand if you do not but I really want to know what you think of this, I do not want to hurt you more than necessary.”

At this Faramir immediately replied. “I know you would not hurt me, Aragorn, I trust you completely, I trust you with my life.”

“I hold you to that, Faramir, please remember that the night of the Ritual, no m…” Aragorn could say no more for he felt the power of the spell preventing him from saying anything further to Faramir. It was most unsettling. He wanted to reassure the young man that he could trust in him, no matter what. He did not want Faramir to think that he, Aragorn, had betrayed him, after promising he would be safe at his side. He wanted to tell Faramir many things.

“What? Aragorn?” asked the young man, seeing the odd expression on his King’s face.

“Nothing. It is nothing. We must go back, it is late and I am sure the guards are wondering about our whereabouts by now. Besides, it is well past midday and you have skipped your lunch, though this time I am the only one to blame,” said Aragorn trying to lighten the mood. Faramir did not want to answer his question and he would not push the young man further.

Aragorn rose and extended a hand to help Faramir stand up as well. They mounted their horses and slowly made their way back to the city. Neither said a word, each immersed in his own thoughts.

After a while Faramir broke the silence. “I am afraid,” he said quietly.

Aragorn almost missed the quietly said words, deep in his thoughts as he was. He looked at Faramir, waiting for the young man to say more.

“I am afraid the Ritual would declare me not worthy of the duty of being your Steward,” continued Faramir looking sideways to Aragorn. “That would mean I would die right there and though I do not fear death I do not want to be away from you… so soon.”

“You will be declared worthy, Faramir, of that I have no doubt.” assured Aragorn his Steward.

They fell silent and again Faramir was the one who broke the silence. “I fear…” He clenched his fingers on the reins and taking a deep breath he continued, “I fear the act itself and I am ashamed to concede such.”

“You have nothing to feel ashamed of. It is only natural to feel that way. Someday I will tell you of my first time and you will laugh of how nervous I was then,” said Aragorn, chuckling at seeing the wide-eyed expression on Faramir’s face.

Aragorn’s answer reassured Faramir and he was most surprised at what he said. He looked at Aragorn with a very comic expression, smiled and nodded to himself. “You certainly know how to lighten the mood, I concede that, my King,” Faramir bowed as far as he could in his saddle.

It looked like underneath all the sadness and shyness laid a frustrated little devil. He would be delighted to help him coming out.

Aragorn started to sing an old Gondorian tune and Faramir bestowed upon him one of his most beautiful laughs and then joined him in the song. That way they crossed the city gates, merrily singing. The guards watched them in stunned silence.

From a balcony, Arwen secretly smiled.

Later that same day Aragorn approached his Elven princess and invited her for a walk in the gardens after dinner.

“The stars shine beautifully, The Mariner sails high in the sky, his light brighter than other nights. Father must be happy.”

“When does he sail for Valinor?” asked Aragorn.

“Within a month, he will be one of the last to sail, along with Glorfindel, Erestor and my brothers.”

Aragorn did not say anything for a while for he knew this was a sad topic of conversation for Arwen. They walked in companionable silence for a while and came to the same bench he had been with Faramir. They sat, side by side, their arms intertwined.

“You had a good time with Faramir today, I could gather that much from the way you two were singing your lungs out,” said Arwen, smiling at Aragorn expression.

“Did you hear us?” asked Aragorn, somewhat surprised.

“Elven hearing, beloved. Though decreasing by the passing days to adjust to a mortal level, it is sharp still,” answered Arwen, laughing merrily.

No matter what, thought Aragorn, Arwen always had the upper hand and he loved her for it even more. Life with Arwen would never be boring. “I enjoyed my day with Faramir,” said Aragorn at last, “he has a beautiful soul and has suffered much.”

“He deserves to be happy, Aragorn,” said Arwen, “He already loves you, are you aware of that?”

Aragorn looked at Arwen for a long time. “Yes, you can say that he feels something for me that is not only friendship. He is loyal and—”

“No, Aragorn,” said Arwen, interrupting him. “He. Loves. You,” she repeated. “Trust Elven intuition, which I will never lose. Blame it on you saving his life; or maybe he had a glimpse of your beautiful soul when you drew him back from death; or it was simple love at first sight. He loves you and it is not gratefulness, if that is what you were thinking. It is love. Moreover, I can see you have started to care deeply for him as well, if not even love him, I dare say. You know what I think of this, Aragorn, you know what Elves think of love. Do not deny him, do not shield yourself on mortal customs, do not sacrifice him for petty laws.”

“But… I cannot help but to feel guilt every time I am with him for I will not be with you, and I am afraid the opposite would someday happen as well. I do not want to feel guilty when I am with you. I feel I cannot have you both, my love,” answered Aragorn.

When he had been with Faramir at the waterfall everything was clear for him, he was sure he wanted Faramir. He wanted to keep him and not only as a friend. But now, nothing seemed as easy as it had in that moment.

“You can have us both on our own time. We have each, our own chores. I am your Elven Queen, I am your nexus with what is left of the Elven realm, and I will be the mother of your children. He is your Steward; he is your nexus with your heritage, your people. He is your most trusted ally and will be your most trusted friend. Heed my word, Aragorn, for what I say is true.”

“Yes, beloved, but you are my most trusted friend already,” answered Aragorn.

“I concede that but give it time; he will be ‘one’ of your most trusted friends. Both of us will mean love for you. It is good to have some to choose from, don’t you think?” asked Arwen, trying to stifle her laughter.

“You are incorrigible and I like it when you laugh like that, and yes, I concede that I care deeply for Faramir. You are wise and know me better than I know myself, my Queen,” said Aragorn, placing a gentle kiss on Arwen’s cheek. He then, placed another light kiss on her lips. “I guess we should go to bed, don’t you think?“ he continued in a seductive voice.

“I think…” she answered, placing a finger on his cheek as though pondering about it.

Aragorn tugged at one fine strand of her raven hair.

Arwen laughed with mirth.

“…That yes, we must.”

“You better, my lady, you better.”

And they made their way back to their rooms, to greet the night properly.

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