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The Ritual (NC-17) Print

Written by Valkyrie

22 April 2004 | 36281 words

[ all pages ]

Title: The Bonding (Part 9/9)
Series: THE RITUAL
Author: Valkyrie (email)
Pairings: Aragorn/Faramir, Aragorn/Arwen (implied)
Rating: NC17
Archive: yes, but let know where
Warnings: mentioning of past violence of sexual nature.
Summary: The bonding is done but it brought unexpected consequences.
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.

NOTE: ‘serif’ means the words spoken by a Valar.


PART NINE – The Bonding

They were one; united in body, mind and soul. They felt each other’s pain and pleasure, heard each other’s thoughts, and shared each other’s souls. Even in his unconscious state Faramir could feel Aragorn’s love for him, giving him the nourishment his soul needed and Aragorn could feel that love reflected back at him along with trust and adoration. So they lay, Aragorn holding Faramir’s trembling body and Faramir holding tight the arms around him, unconsciously looking for an anchor in his feverish state.

They could not see and if they would have been able to do so, they would have seen a soft light surrounding their bodies and the Book of the Ritual floating above them, it’s pages turning on their own, each one of them blank. They would have seen the Book disappearing into nothing. They would have seen the Lady of Light appear above them, her hair as black as the night sky, her eyes as bright as the light of a star, her skin as white as the moon and even brighter. However, they could hear with the ears of the soul and her voice was the sweetest music that could be heard.

‘The day foreseen has come. Two souls have broken the Spell with the Power of Their Love. The last of the Line of the Great Kings and the first of the beginning of a new age. The last of the Steward’s Line and the first whose love surpassed it all.’

‘The Ritual is no more but not for the Will of the King but for the Will of the Valar who created the Ritual to ensure the upcoming of the One who would raise against Evil and help defeat it once more and forever.’

Aragorn’s only thought was – why? Why had the Valar done this? Why did Faramir now lie trembling in his arms, whimpering in pain, even in his unconsciousness? Pain that he had been forced to inflict.

‘It was foreseen by Námo, the only one of us who sees things that shall be when it is Ilúvatar’s will to be so. The Line of Kings was in danger, the Númenóreans corrupted by greed and lust for power. Long time ago, we came to you, Race of Men, and offered the Spell, we offered a way for greedy and paranoid kings to ensure their survival and the loyalty of one that would die for them. However, we ourselves looked only for the survival of the One that shall come and be the first of a new age of Men. But it was given to the Númenóreans the choice to decide on the nature of the test and so they chose to test the Steward in the most humiliating way that they could imagine; for their souls were so, corrupted. Subduing a warrior to the lowest position; his honour and pride stripped from him by an act of violence; thus, the Spell was made and sealed in the Book and the Room was created out of reach of space and time known to Men, Vairë‘s weaves adorning its walls to remember a lost time, a longed for time.’

‘Your souls are pure and have come together in love and have passed a dire test. You are now bound, as no Soul of Men has been bonded before and never two others shall be. Both your lives’ essences linked as one. Thus, should one die, the other will follow.’

‘Aragorn, for your brave and kind spirit, you are granted the choice of departing from this world when you wish to do so. It will be your decision when the road would hold only weariness for you.’

‘Faramir, of compassionate and trusting soul, you are granted the long life of the bloodline of the Great Kings and for the great sacrifice you have made Ëste sends you her Gift of Rest and Healing Touch to ease the weariness in your body.’

Aragorn felt Faramir’s trembling body go limp in his arms; the occasional whimper replaced by the sound of even and relaxed breathing. Aragorn held him tighter, grateful tears running down his face.

‘The Ritual has been fulfilled, the test passed and a corrupted tradition destroyed; blessings, beloved children of Iluvatar. You will remember the words I have told you when you wake up. Now, rest for you will need it.’


Aragorn woke up and noticed two things; he was in his bedchambers and a warm naked body was pressed against his chest; Faramir’s body, left arm around Aragorn’s waist, face buried in the crook of his neck and the head using his arm as a pillow. Aragorn studied the young man’s face; Faramir looked so peaceful, he thought, so trusting in his arms. He caressed the young man’s face with his free arm and pulled the unruly locks behind Faramir’s ears. The events of the night came to him all of a sudden. Varda, the Lady of Light had come! The Ritual was broken by the power of their love and the will of the Valar. Aragorn smiled and could not help but tighten his hold on Faramir; they were bound and not for mere military tactics. No, their bond was of another nature and ran deeper, created by the Valar by means of their love and Faramir was granted a life as long as his own. Aragorn squeezed the young man even more, his eyes misting with tears which he could not prevent from running down his face.

“Ai Faramir! What grave hurt I have done to you, my love. I just hope you will forgive me, for the madness that overtook me was not my own,” said Aragorn in a quiet voice.

Suddenly, he felt Faramir’s awareness in his mind, vague confusion and… fear. He let go of the young Steward to look at his face and saw grey eyes staring back at him, full of caution, where once was only utter trust reflected in his gaze. And this pierced Aragorn’s heart worse than a sword would have. He reached out to caress Faramir’s face and to assure him that all was over, that he was safe now. But Faramir flinched from his touch, closing his beautiful eyes and wrapping his arms around himself in a clearly defensive gesture.

Faramir awoke to someone holding him tight and speaking words that he did not grasp. For a blissful moment, he did not know space or time; but then, everything came to him in a rush. He saw the man in front on him, laying with him on the bed and could not help but shy away from his touch, closing his eyes to not see, to not fall into the despair of the memories that came rushing back to strip his happiness from him.

Faramir knew all that had happened was due to the Ritual, that it was not Aragorn’s fault for he had felt it through their bond, and the Lady had told them about the Númenóreans’ choice. But he could not reconcile all those facts with the awful thing that was done to him. He could not separate King from Beloved for right now he could not help but see only one man. The one that had caused him so much pain and humiliated him as no one had before. Faramir thought that fate was, indeed, cruel with him for taking the solace it had offered in such a horrid manner. A soft voice dragged him out of his musings. He looked once more to the beloved face, his heart filling with doubt, and his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Faramir?” said Aragorn, though he did not know what exactly he wanted to ask. The only thing he was sure of was that his heart was breaking at seeing Faramir recoiling from him, the grey eyes widening now with despair, glazing over with the tears that would come. “Faramir?” he repeated, his voice a mere whisper. His hand that had stopped in mid air, resumed the intended touch.

Aragorn wanted to scream, he wanted to tear something, for all that had been gained was destroyed in a single act. Faramir’s smile, Faramir’s laugh, Faramir’s trust. He only hoped that the bond they now shared would help him to rebuild what they had lost. He cursed the one whose choice was such a damnable act; he cursed the corrupt ancestor who had doomed him to this guilt and despair. He cursed them all for now his sweet Faramir, his trusting Faramir, his compliant Faramir trembled at his mere touch.

“Shhh, I will not hurt you, you must believe me,” pleaded Aragorn, running his hand over the young man’s head, pushing the unruly locks out of the way behind Faramir’s right ear. “What I… what I did, I did under the influence of magic. That was not me who hurt you, my love. I would cut my hand before knowingly hurting you. Do not recoil from my touch; learn the truth in my words through our bond.” Aragorn sank into utter misery when Faramir’s tears started to run unhindered down his face.

The young man shook his head as though denying something. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get a grip on his emotions, but to no avail. His breath caught in his throat and he wanted to think that the keening sound he was hearing was not his own suffering finding its way out. He could not prevent himself from tensing up when Aragorn embraced him in a loose hold; an embrace that at any other time would have brought him succour in the middle of despair. But not now.

“Please, Faramir, see through our bond. I love you. I could not bear to lose you,” Aragorn pleaded still.

Faramir heard the words and somehow started to see, to comprehend, and to calm down. They had been victims of something beyond their control. He knew Aragorn had suffered during the ordeal. He had felt the guilt as well as the love. He forced himself to calm, to breathe, and to reach out for their bond.

And could not.

The bond was not there. He felt nothing. He raised his head from where it lay on Aragorn’s shoulder, pushing the King away from him, eyes wide, sight clouded by tears that had not stopped falling. He saw the bewildered look in the beloved face and reached out with his mind again, head shaking from side to side, feeling the panic rising in him when he still felt nothing.

Nothing.

Faramir was sure he had felt the bond. He had felt it and embraced it. He had felt connected to Aragorn’s bright spirit and despite all that he had suffered, in that moment, when the bond established itself in their minds; he had felt like a thirsty man drinking much needed water. In the middle of all, he had felt secure, cherished, and loved.

Now, Faramir could understand why he was feeling cautious, why he felt the fear, why he recoiled from the touch he craved the most. The bond was gone. He did not feel Aragorn’s warm spirit anymore. He did not feel the thing that once tasted; he could not live without. A scream caught in his throat and in the end, he panicked when Aragorn tried once more to reach out for him. He pushed his King away and dashed himself against the headboard of the bed, making himself as tiny as possible and holding desperately his head. He heard someone calling but everything was getting increasingly hazy.

“Faramir!” Aragorn could not prevent the exclamation from his lips, the panic wave hitting his mind with full and startling force. He immediately reached out to hold the young man, shaking like a leaf and disturbingly rocking back and forth. “Faramir, love, what is it?” He strained his hearing to catch what the young man kept repeating over and over.

“It is gone.”

Aragorn embraced Faramir tight and was surprised when the young man held him tighter in return, putting his arms around him and squeezing painfully, as though afraid that Aragorn might disappear at any moment. “What is gone, my love?” asked Aragorn, soothingly caressing the young man’s back, and alarmed to no end by Faramir’s increasing distress.

Faramir buried his head deeper in Aragorn’s chest, the fear of losing his beloved greater than the fear of the memories. He feared that somehow Aragorn did not want him, that somehow Aragorn had severed the bond. He did not know what to think or to fear anymore. He felt his mind falling into itself and he welcomed the approaching darkness. He wanted oblivion; he did not want to live like this. Used and cast aside. The bond had been so beautiful and consuming; he knew he could not live without it for now it felt as if it always had been there. It felt as though without it he would be incomplete, an important part of himself gone. Thus, he wanted to leave as well. He embraced the darkness for it offered the oblivion he craved.

Aragorn grew alarmed when Faramir’s mounting despair transformed into something more. Faramir’s mind was disappearing from his awareness as though the young man was not there. Faramir went limp in his arms and he felt him no more. He panicked. In a hurry he situated Faramir more comfortably on the bed and felt for a pulse, which was there, heart still beating strongly.

A very distraught King sighed in relief and covered the young man with the sheets. Then, he dressed himself in simple trousers and shirt to go to the door and ordered one of the guards to retrieve Varan for him. He did not miss the look of utter sadness that crossed the guards’ faces.

“He passed the test, do not fear,” Aragorn said to the guards reassuringly. “Hurry with the healer, please.”

The guard all but ran to accomplish the order.


“I do not understand,” said Varan after assessing Faramir’s state. “He seems asleep, but he does not respond to common stimulus. He should have awoken by now,” added the healer to Aragorn’s concern. “I must know everything that happened in order to make a further diagnosis.

A sinking feeling took hold of Aragorn’s heart for the power of the Ritual would not let… He stopped his contemplation in mid thought for now that his mind was clearer… the Ritual was no more! He certainly should be able to talk about it unhindered, should he not?

“Do you know something about the Ritual?” He said, testing the ground.

“What all people know. It is a test for the Steward of the realm. If he does not pass it, he would be killed, declared a traitor,” answered the healer.

“The test was of a sexual nature,” said Aragorn in a rush, surprised and relieved that the power that prevented him from disclosure, was gone. He could not help but redden under the healer’s bewildered stare, though. “Please, let us sit and I will explain everything,” he continued, guiding the healer towards the chairs beside the window.

Aragorn began to tell his story starting with the shock he had felt when Galen first told him about the unusual tradition. He told Varan about the grave error he almost committed and about the inevitability of fulfilling the Ritual. He told the healer about Faramir’s insecurities, about how, he himself, had promised Faramir no harm would ever come to him and how later, he was forced to break that promise by a dire and mad obligation. He told him every sordid detail of what had happened in the accursed room and he told him about the bond and the gifts of the Valar. In the end, Aragorn told the healer about their love, bitter tears running down his face.

Varan, on the other hand, was more than shocked. He was furious, not at Aragorn but at the mad kings of old. He looked at the seemingly serene figure on the bed and could not help but feel his heart constrict in sympathy. He looked then at the sight of his King, crying disconsolate as a child does and cursed under his breath. He rose from the chair and put a reassuring hand on his King’s shoulder.

“We will figure it out, my King. We will find out what is wrong with him. Have a little faith that all will be well,” stated Varan, not knowing what else to say.

“I could feel the bond, Varan, I could feel him. I could feel his distress, his fear, his panic,” said Aragorn, calming somewhat. “But it seemed he could not feel me. Ai Varan, you should have seen him. He was utterly panicked,” Aragorn started to say, but his voice broke before he could say anything more.

“Calm yourself, my King. You have to be strong for Faramir,” said Varan, trying another tactic to bring the King to relax.

It worked, for just as suddenly Aragorn angrily brushed away the tears running down his face, abruptly rose from the chair, and walked to Faramir’s side. He then, picked the young man up in his arms, wrapping him in the sheets and bade Varan to open the door.

“I will carry him to his rooms. The steward’s chamber should be his now,” said Aragorn, resolution painted on his face. “I will bring him back; I will not lose him to this.”

“Sire, I will give you my opinion about the new rooms if you do not mind,” said Varan.

“Speak,” said Aragorn curtly.

“Place young Faramir in other rooms for if he awakens in those he would be more distressed about the matter. He does not have good memories about that room, Sire,” finished Varan in a pleading tone.

“I will not even inquire about this matter, Valars help me I am glad for Denethor’s death,” said Aragorn, leaving his chambers with Varan in his wake.

Aragorn chose the rooms at the end of the same hall where his own chambers were located. Varan opened the door for him at his signal and he was rewarded with a grateful look from his healer for having paid heed to his warning. The healer put aside the sheets of the bed so Aragorn could place his charge there. Then, Aragorn himself covered Faramir with the blankets and sat at the edge of the bed.

Varan went to the door and at the threshold he said, “We will have to wait for it is clear, the choice to wake up is his. Meanwhile, I will send word to other healers to try and find out something that could help us to end this condition.” Then he left the King to his own thoughts.

Aragorn held Faramir’s right hand with his own while he caressed the young man’s face with the other, silent tears running down his face. “Wake up, my love, please?” he begged the sleeping man. “Do not rob me of your presence, beloved, for I would go mad. We can fight this, beloved, we will fight it. Wake up to fight at my side. I promise all will be well.” Aragorn lifted Faramir’s limp hand to give it a tender kiss and then placed it over Faramir’s chest.

Aragorn looked out of the window. It was raining. He thought how much Faramir liked to see the falling rain. He thought about all the things Faramir liked; such simple things. The rain, Anor reflected on the water, Ithil’s light, the mist in the falling waters, the wind blowing through the trees. His sweet Faramir was a kind and gentle spirit and his soul always looked for such beautiful things. His beloved could not end like this, he was sure of that. His Faramir could not end his days without tasting the happiness he deserved. No, he would recover and together, they would see happier times.

End of this series

Continued in: The Road Ahead

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/the-ritual. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!


7 Comment(s)

I have really enjoyed this story – di you evwer write the sequel mentioned? If so I should truly enjoy reading it.

— Mauz    Thursday 8 June 2006, 9:21    #

a sequel, please!

[This comment was originally entered in the 'Thank the Author' box and moved here by the administrators. Elena, please contact us if you have trouble with commenting.]

— elena    Saturday 20 October 2007, 17:10    #

Sequel is coming in about 2 days. Thanks for you comment!

— Valkyrie    Saturday 20 October 2007, 19:48    #

I can’t wait for the sequel! I read this story some time ago and always felt the ending was incomplete—too many questions still left unanswered. I like this story because the plot was original enough and seemed plausible. Also, any novel length Faramir/Aragorn fic with any kind of character development is a pure joy to read.

— Chantal    Tuesday 23 October 2007, 6:39    #

I read your story yesterday and I want to thank you. I enjoyed it very much and I’m looking forward to the sequel. Actually I hate to read tbc’s because I’m so impatient, but too late now!
I just wanted to say some more things:
1. I loved the way you described Arwen and her reaction towards Faramir when she heard about his death sentence. It’s so Faramir that he doesn’t say anything. And I like how she racted when Aragorn told her about his love for Faramir. It’s a pretty thought that elves admit all kinds of love, no matter if they’re involved or not.
2. I don’t want to be mean but Faramir was a little too whiny for me. I know that he’s in fandom either the stereotype of a wuss or a warrior and you managed quite well to show both sides of his character but for my taste he had too many emotional breakdowns, although it’s understandable because of his inner turmoil. I don’t know. I like him a little bit more manly but still with a soft core.
3. Because of that I loved the whole part where he got angry. Faramir, standing angry in front of Aragorn, dripping of Orc blood is a powerful picture!
4. I already said that I like that you try to don’t stereotype the protagonists (too much). Because of that it was a good decision to show Aragorns thoughts, that he hate to violate Faramir but that still the picture of this young, naked man, bound to a stone or dripping of Orc blood, arouses him. It’s a totally human reaction and makes Aragorn sympathetic.
I’m sure I forgot to mention some more of my thoughts but this comment is already too long. Sorry for that but I had to comment on 9 parts, so… now I’m going to read the sequel and hope that the next parts will come soon. Damn, I hate reading tbc’s!:)

dunderklumpen    Tuesday 23 October 2007, 23:42    #

Absolutely amazing story! So amazing as is its sequel “The Road Ahead”. Very interesting idea and wonderful writing! Thank you very much, Valkyrie, and write more!

— Anastasiya    Wednesday 17 March 2010, 12:02    #

I just read this story and I wish I had come in time to support it so it would get bumped. Very interesting idea of how to have the Steward’s loyalty tested, a wonderful Arwen, a great angry Faramir, and the way the story is told is quite efficient. Thanks!

— Nerey Camille    Saturday 7 April 2012, 14:56    #

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