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The Strangest of Dances (NC-17) Print

Written by Eora

17 March 2013 | 19768 words

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Title: The Strangest of Dances
Pairing: Faramir/Aragorn
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Warnings: Slash, sexual scenes, my attempts at humour.
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. All written in good fun with no offence intended!
Author’s Note: I tried for a very long time to even think of a title for this and I’m still not sure I’m entirely happy with this one but I feel this story has been sitting on my hard-drive for so long now that I better set it free before I forget all about it! This was originally about two pages long and long-abandoned until I found it again over a month ago I think and suddenly became possessed with the urge to finish it and it became rather long I’m afraid. The characterisation is wildly non-canon. It’s meant to be funny. But whether it is funny is another matter entirely. Just don’t take anything you read below too seriously and I’m sure we’ll be fine :) (To be honest, I think it starts out a little ridiculous and settles itself toward later chapters but that is entirely my own judgement :P)


Chapter 1.

There was a wryness about Faramir, a sense that the lifting of the weight of armour, and therefore the weight of war, from his shoulders had allowed and even encouraged his more likeable aspects to blaze forth. I realise that I never knew him in wartime, as a commander, the captain, the ranger; our first meeting was rather mundane on the face of things, he unconscious in a healing bed, myself unwashed (overdue for a bath by a day or three, I was told in no uncertain terms by a healer that I with some conviction decided was not much of a royalist) and harried by innumerable nurses. It was all so rushed and by nature of his condition we did not speak. In any case, it didn’t matter; once awake I liked him regardless of whether or not his mouth curved in what he probably thought, or hoped, was a hidden smile, privately amused at some thing or other, and one day a few weeks after my coronation (and a few weeks after the first of many, forced or otherwise, baths,) in pleasant exasperation I asked him what he found so funny.

“You,” he said simply.

“Me?”

“Yes!”

I stared at him, and he stared back, before the smile widened into a grin that quickly disappeared from my view as he bent his head back to his task. We were sorting the old maps in the small library, my hands were full of decrepit sheaves but I’d lost interest in the face of this new information. Peacetime was having a remarkably attractive effect on my new steward (not, as I mentioned, that I knew him when he was, presumably, dourer. No, sterner maybe. I can’t imagine Faramir as unpleasant, not that I spend much time trying. Considering him attractive is apparently something I do partake of, however.)

“What’s so funny about me?” I asked, wondering if it was the fact that I asked stupid questions. (There hadn’t been that many, had there? It’s not every day one inherits a kingdom; one was entitled, I felt, to the odd bout of idiocy.)

“Nothing,” he replied, and equally stupidly I thought, for I judged him as too intelligent to be the sort of man to laugh at nothing. “Pass me the ink, would you?” Luckily for him I had foolishly instructed him in the lack of necessity of titles when alone with me. Foolish, because I might have used his easiness with me as arsenal in this bizarre affront to my (so far, for I know modesty is something of what, hopefully, makes me attractive) imagined dignity.

As it was, I passed him the inkwell without comment and resumed staring, even going so far a to put a hand on one hip though I refrained from raising an eyebrow. One can be too coquettish, even a king. I watched as he, with infuriating casualness, made a note in the ledger he held open with a finger. I noticed, for the first time somehow, for I had seen him write endlessly at council, that he was left-handed. Eventually, he looked up, the elevated brow his gesture to perform.

I waited, and after a pause Faramir straightened and shook the hair from his face. He set down the quill and raised his hand, placating what he thought would be my inevitably angry reaction. “Your…trepidation, it’s very becoming.”

An odd choice of word, that. Becoming. “And you find that funny?” Wait. I put down the parchments. “My trepidation?”

Was that a sigh? Of impatience? No, more the sort of exhalation one performs when trying to dig oneself out of the hole one has inadvertently excavated and then immediately fallen into whilst standing on the edge looking in, wondering how it got there. For no other reason than to bother Faramir, for his admission had certainly bothered me, I immediately became engrossed in the parchments again, sifting through them, ordering and reordering and laying them out beside one another, all the while avoiding eye contact with the man but nevertheless making my expectation of a response clear with many little ‘hmm?‘s and similarly facetious noises. As a king, I could get away with this. As a friend, I was sure Faramir would later find a way to exact revenge in a suitably squirm-inducing way, likely in public. Our war of words was one that would never be over and that was just one of the things I found likeable about him; he fought well. He always had an answer, and even when it was one I didn’t agree with it was one I usually somehow inexplicably found agreeable anyway. I’m not sure I can really articulate it. I’ll come back to this, I promise.

Faramir shifted, his boot heel scraping against the leg of the table. I studiously continued to ignore him. “How can I put it?” he began, and a voice inside my head did an accurate impersonation of him, chorusing ‘without signing my own execution warrant‘ involuntarily as if he’d ever be so brazenly cheeky and as if I’d ever command such a thing. Shamefully, I fought a smile and won for the most part; there would come a day very soon when Faramir would hit that level of (private) impudence and I‘d let it slide because in secret it delighted me. I think I’ve become a very good actor- for all Faramir knew the secret to eternal youth was scrawled on those parchments so welded to them was my gaze. In reality if I’d looked up at him I’d have just asked something stupid (and, I‘m going to be immodest here, I believe that I already come as close as one might get to eternal youth without being an elf). Then Faramir said something stupid.

“It’s the way you, well, not hesitate, and it‘s not about quietness either, but how gentle you are when you speak. A king needs to be loved, not feared, and you inspire confidence with your manner; you’re very accommodating. I mean, today you asked me if I’d rather we do this in here or the great hall or maybe my study, and then when we got here you wondered if you should send for food or could I wait for lunch. Did I want wine or light ale? You are allowed to command me, you know, delegate. Make decisions to suit you; you have that right because you are the king. But you don’t. And it’s charming.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. So I said “I thought it was becoming.”

“It’s both.”

“Can it be both?”

Faramir shrugged and bent over the ledger again, free of my interrogative shackles. And I described his speech as stupid because it set in motion some hitherto unused and undiscovered wheel in a back alley of my brain which prompted me to perform acts and say words and instigate and participate in a whole manner of unpredicted circumstances that would eventually culminate in his hand closing around mine three weeks and four days from that very day in the library. And as he did that I said something extremely stupid but I’ll come back to that too, don’t worry.

“So,” I said, drawing it out. There was no reaction to my prolonged silence, so I blundered on, eyes boring into the back of Faramir‘s head while my mind decided right then and there was the optimum moment to argue with itself over whether he was blonde or red-haired or whether it really just depended on the light. “My charming you is funny.”

Faramir nodded without looking up. Maybe the secret to eternal youth was the thing he was so diligently inscribing, so at ease with ignoring me as he was. Or maybe it was the fact I’d phrased it as a statement and not a question. He underlined something, satisfied, and answered me anyway; “Not in a ridiculous way, though.”

“In what way then?”

“A charming one.” I was about to give up on this useless nowhere-conversation and ask, no, wait, I should probably delegate something to him (but then my so-called charm would evaporate and though the thought of my being becoming was an alarming one the thought of not being so was now equally undesirable) when he closed the ledger with a snap, startling me. “I find you very agreeable.”

What an odd thing to say. “Agreeable?”

He seemed undecided. “Likeable.”

Likeable?” Today I was mostly going to be repeating everything that Faramir said.

“I like you.” Suddenly I realised it wasn’t indecision, it was nerves! What was happening? He laughed, and I opened my mouth to probably tell him I liked him too, but in the time it took me to work out how to say that without just parroting him again someone else said;

“My lords, lunch is being served in the lesser hall.”

And that was the end of that excruciating conversation.


A fortnight later and I was pretty certain that I had fallen in love with Faramir. Now, I need to explain this a little, so bear with me. It wasn’t the sort of love where really it’s just lust and all my getting to know him better was just a poorly wrought excuse to shove my hand beneath his shirt. I mean, I can put that very hand on my heart and swear to you that I have never had thoughts of that sort about any man in my life, real or imagined. And I absolutely was not having those sorts of thoughts about Faramir (except it falls apart here slightly because I absolutely was).

I found myself lying awake thinking about that afternoon not long after his release from the healing houses, where, in the privacy of my office, he had, without so much as a blush, dug up the hem of his shirt from its burial beneath belt and breeches to show me the burn mark on his waist when I enquired if he had recovered fully. It wasn’t bad at all, rather neat in fact, and as he ran his hand over it to show that it didn’t pain him I got an uncensored glimpse of his ribs and belly as his shirt rode up with the movement of his wrist. For some reason I remember leaning in closer as if to deliver the final, official royal verdict upon the neatness of the scar. “It’s healed very well,” I declared, and Faramir made some sort of satisfied grunt of acknowledgement and lowered the hem. It was at that point I retreated behind the desk again; the only possible conclusion to my continuing to stand so close to him was to capture him in an all-encompassing and life-igniting kiss and I’d only just found out about my need to shove my hands beneath his shirt and that was quite enough for one day. I sat down and thanked all the gods in existence for keeping the lower half of my body ignorant of my mind’s rash decision-making. (The decision being that I was now going to be attracted to Faramir, or that I was always attracted to him and only now was my brain planning on revealing that to the rest of me. Either way, it posed some obvious difficulties.)

I’ve not really explained it, have I? I think I wanted to prove that it wasn’t just uncouth lust but I suppose in the beginning it was. I was just lucky that everything else about Faramir, the things you couldn’t see, suited me too.

Now, lying in a storm of sheets I realised I was obsessing over whether the hair on Faramir’s stomach had been blonde or red (you know I hadn’t even really bothered to look properly when I had the chance, and when else was it likely that I be presented with various unclothed parts of Faramir’s body? But then what is there to recall? He was not as if carved from marble but his belly was flat and mostly toned and his waist dipped inwards and that was good enough for me; I am not chiselled from stone either) and I’d decided also that it was merely the proximity to another man’s bare skin in such an intimate scenario that had somehow muddled my brain into thinking this was something erotic. There must be an aura, or some sort of undetectable scent people give off that draw others in like a magnet, this was obviously the reason for my confusion; I was newly crowned, we‘d just won the war, baths were almost daily occurrences now, what man wouldn‘t fall prey to such intoxicating pheromones? I tried desperately to think of occasions where I’d been in similar nearness to reasonably handsome men and not fallen in love with them (the reasonably-handsome bit I had trouble with.) Of course there were none, or rather I mean there were many I had not fallen in love with, all of them in fact, and rather irritatingly I had to abandon my paltry theory (mainly so I might get some sleep) and surmise that while I didn’t prefer men on the whole I might prefer Faramir but it didn’t matter anyway because I wasn’t going to be so stupid as to actually tell him.

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The following people read the story, enjoyed it, and would like to thank the author: Nerey Camille , Minx

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25 Comment(s)


NB: Comments span all chapters and may contain spoilers!

Oooh! Very good! Magical: so many words and you caught me in a wave of excitement. I like this Aragorn, and the explanation of Faramir. Ahh, sunshine and fun!

— Laivindur    15 November 2012, 16:52    #

Why thank you! I’m glad it’s going down well so far; there will be more chapters in the upcoming weeks so I hope you enjoy those too! :)

Eora    15 November 2012, 20:37    #

Very funny and unusual version of Aragorn and Faramir :). I like it!

— Nerey Camille    16 November 2012, 00:42    #

Thank you! It’s not exactly the most accurate portrayal of them both I admit but I’m happy it’s working out so far!

Eora    16 November 2012, 14:54    #

Oh lovely! I love the tone and the characterisation of both :) Looking forward to more!

Minx    16 November 2012, 18:51    #

Great Elephants! I snorted with laughter when I came to “… was not much of a royalist”. XD Not only because of the ironic tone, but also because this is a topic the book seems not to consider. In each halfway healthy society there are supposed to be at least some people who might have their reservations about the new king. I mean, one fine day he arrives, a total stranger, wins the war (which is not exactly his earning), claims absolute power and nobody objects? The last king has disappeared about 800 years ago and though everybody goes like “Hooray, monarchy´s back! Hail to the king!” Nothing against Professor Tolkien (how could I dare?), I think he was very familiar with the human mind and just decided to leave some realities out (instead of being totally naive regarding the way the hairless ape behaves) – yet I find it truly refreshing to read about a side character who doesn´t lose one hundred percent of his common sense just because YE Gods, it´s THE KING! ;)

You see, I´m already drifting, but at least I should take a minute to assure you of two things (just to make you sleep peaceful): First: It´s not funny, it´s hilarious. :) The lines are sparkling with wit like a glass of Veuve Cliquot, so to say (though I was told the humorous skills of champagne are rather limited). I can´t help but adore people who are good with words and even more if they manage to be both intelligent AND funny. And second: I would say it is totally in canon with movie Aragorn. I would even go further and say it is the sort of self-irony that would have fitted the book character. I love that inner dialogue that reveals a lot of Aragorn´s personal insecurity and shows a healthy down-to-earthness. There is a lot of Viggo in it – or the motion I have of him. :)

My second favourite part? “He was not as if carved from marble” and “I am not chiselled from stone either”. Thank you for that, dear. Thank you. Thank you. THANK YOU. It is not that there was anything wrong with a divine male body but… sometimes I´m fed up with all the clinical perfection. Bodies don´t have to be flawless to be desirable – as a matter of fact it is the flaws that make us love somebody. Perfection is admirable, but there´s also a scary aspect in it. Apart from that I´m pretty sure the body of a person who is used to hard physical work and spends most of their time outside is still different from a super-shaped highgloss model. – But it seems this comment is about to become an entry by itself. Actually all I wanted to say is: Beautiful and incredibly skilled work – please keep it going! :)

— raven22372    16 November 2012, 20:47    #

Minx- Thank you so much! The fic itself is actually complete so have no fear, I won’t leave you hanging! :)

Raven- Thank you!! :) Haha, I was almost hoping someone would pick up on that! :P Imperfection or perceived flaws only add to perfection in my opinion, and of course, no-one is perfect. I do try and strive for realism in my stories, no matter the implausibility of the plot-lines on occasion. I personally find it far more romantic when all of the inelegant bits are included, if you catch my meaning (so uh, I guess stay tuned for a later chapter where there is a rather undignified moment haha!)

I figure Viggo is a bit of a trickster (well I’ve heard/read interviews where he has quite the mischievous sense of humour) so I’m very humbled by your assessment that my portrayal of Aragorn here (and I will maintain that it is probably as far from canon as one might get) is something that plays to his sensibilities. Of course, I don’t believe that Aragorn was all noble and austere and all that 100% of the time. But I’m not sure if he would be quite so…well, misty-headed due to love as he will be in later chapters as well but this isn’t exactly aiming for utter realism in all aspects here :P)

And yes! I’m sure there are equal amounts of people who are all ‘Hooray, the king!’ and ‘Screw the king!’ and a bunch more who are ‘King who?’ Hopefully not enough of the second sort to cause any sort of problems, but I’m sure Denethor had his supporters, those who shared his opinions on certain political matters (but hopefully not on the inferiority of certain sons of his.) I think that healer, while not really malevolent, was purely of the justified opinion that after running about in the wilds for god knows how many days and weeks Aragorn was rightly in need of a scrub. I always watch the films and think, oh my, he’s so dreamy…but when did he last have a wash? In fact I think the part where he falls off the cliff during the warg attack is the only time he’s seen actually getting any sort of bath :P And during the coronation, of course, isn’t he so nicely groomed? See, Aragorn, it’s not so bad, really!

(P.S the email is incoming, I’ve been ill this week and basically useless, I’m sorry!)

Eora    16 November 2012, 23:24    #

Yes! It’s hilarious! :D A good laugh indeed ;) Thank you. Great portrait of the two ;) I love Aragorn like this.

— Laivindur    29 November 2012, 19:56    #

“Was I any good?” HMWUAHAHAHA, goodness, that is a oneliner written in heaven!!! XDDD
Well, err – cough cough – yes. I can only suppose I feel that intrigued because of the statement´s strong contrast to the true persona of Faramir – who likely would never ever ask if he was good in bed. X) Your skills in dialogues are enviable, and just in case I forgot to mention it: so is your sense of humour. There are different ways to create humour and my most favourite is the one that comes from the use of language (in German it´s “Sprachwitz”, which means the witty, subtle dealing with language, but I couldn´t find any English equivalent, so I hope I can get across what I mean. Humble apologises at this point). I love the gentle and yet feather-light atmosphere, accentuated by occasional flashes of self-irony that, as sharp as it may be, never gets bitter. Truth be told, I could wallow in your writing for hours – what am I saying, days!

I was going to say ´poor Aragorn` but since the entire setting is so bright and drenched with warnth and easiness, I refuse to believe it will come to a bad end. And for the ´confessio interruptus´ scene in the stables (Please excuse my terrible puns. The later the hour the worse they get): for some inexplicable reason it seems absolutely natural to bring Faramir in line with horses. Of course, Aragorn as well, but that´s at least something one would expect, whereas the character of Faramir is not explicitly introduced as a rider… I can only hope it´s not my subconsciousness playing filthy tricks on me… XD

— raven22372    30 November 2012, 20:51    #

Oh, I like this Faramir! And this Aragorn is pretty cute too. Looking forward to more!
Thanks for sharing,

Iris    23 December 2012, 10:25    #

How did I miss these comments! Please accept my sincere apologies!!

Laivindur- Thank you :P It is of course all meant to be read as quite tongue-in-cheek so I hope I don’t ruffle too many purists! I’m glad you’re enjoying it so far!

Raven- Yeaaaaah, I don’t know. I think I may have let a little of a certain actor’s imagined capriciousness and mischief seep into Faramir’s dialogue there, ha! I think it’s safe to say that this story is about as far from canon as you could possibly get, but all in the name of fun and doing something a little different. Honestly, I don’t know where this story sprang from, it really was just a few paragraphs I found on the computer which began weeks of furious typing to what effect I don’t yet know. I think I know also what you mean by Sprachwitz, though I can’t quite put it into a definition myself, but I thank you most sincerely. Aragorn’s meant to be very self-effacing, ironic, self-deprecating and very self-aware, and probably a bit dry though I may have just named a bunch of things there and you’re going…‘but where is this in the text?’ I’ve tried not to make either of them too sarcastic, because I think t’s the easiest sort of humour to write, and gets a bit repetitive after a while and less funny. Not that I really believe anything else I’ve typed up there is going to win any comedy awards but I digress :P

And as for Faramir and horses…well, I’ll let imaginations do what they will, but I do like to try and write him as more than just a ranger with bow and arrow. He’s maybe no Rohirrim horse-lord (or an Aragorn!) but I like to think he’s quietly very competent at a lot of things and makes no fanfare about it, horsemanship included. Modest, is our steward, except in the discussion of bedroom performance! ;) Thank you so much for your thoughts!

Iris- Thank you for reading so far, and there will be an update soon, I promise (I realised I’d not added the next chapter when I meant to but I didn’t want to update right as the Midwinter stories were going up and push someone else off the front page with something else by me, but the next part is forthcoming shortly!) There is plenty more where this Faramir came from, and Aragorn too ;P Glad you like it, as nonsensical as it may yet be!

— Eora    26 December 2012, 00:46    #

Oh-oh, my poor aching heart – and the poor aching corners of my mouth, too! For this is so loving and heart-warming, with the delicate sense of humour coming on velvet paws… I can´t even decide if I should laugh or cry and this is a compliment (and therefore true). :) Poor Aragorn, has cut off a speech that might have revealed something quite important, because he finds himself unable to stand the feeling of red-hot embarrassment for two single seconds longer. Don´t get me wrong, I´m not laughing at him at all. On the contrary, I find it incredibly loveable to see him cringing like that. ;) Challenging Sauron the Deceiver himself – HAHA, no problem! Facing twenty Uruk-Hai armed to the teeth (err, fangs) – not even worth a blink! But one word, one tiny more word that may contain even the slightest hint of a rejection – and he´s close to faint like anybody else in the same situation. And of course Faramir is even more lively and adorabe than ever, indeed, I can literally SEE his signature occupying half of the letter, with extra paraphs and the three little dots over the ´a´ (those Bilbo adds for decoration when writing his book).

If the tone of the narration wasn´t so warm and lighthearted I would almost worry about the end! But as things are the way they are I´m only afraid His Royal Majesty will find the clumsiest way of all to declare himself. ;) Or at least that is what he thinks about himself which makes him even more adorable. <3

— raven22372    29 December 2012, 20:55    #

I lovelovelovelove it! The characters are, if not slightly ooc, delightful! There is one flaw, however… The abscence of MORE CHAPTERS!!! HURRY UP AND WRITE MORE! I AM ON MY KNEES! PLEASE!
This story is certainly a Brilliant, Lirimaer, PLEASE WRITE MORE!

collapsing and dying with need for more chapters

— Asëa    31 December 2012, 05:29    #

Ahhhaa, i’m so glad you’re enjoying it! :D And you can rest easy now, more chapters ARE most definitely on the way (the story is finished and sitting on my computer, but I think it’s better to leave the reader wanting more rather than flood everyone with the whole story all at once ;))

Thank you for your comment, it really made me smile! (And a happy new year!)

— Eora    1 January 2013, 16:04    #

Oops! Raven, I somehow missed your comment there! D: Forgive my blindness!

I think even kings get nervous too, and facing the truth over matters of the heart is often a far more intimidating prospect than facing off an army of orcs…so or I presume :P I know I’ve taken Aragorn’s character to almost the opposite extreme to that of the canon, I mean, I hardly see him in reality as being the sort to fumble over such things, though I do like to imagine him as being a little less stern in personality. I know the ring-quest was a rather serious undertaking, and that he does smile on occasion, but I like to think that as king, when not holding court or doing official things, he is at least a little more light-hearted when with friends!

Don’t hold off on worrying just yet, I’m sure our (in this case slightly hapless) king may yet have plenty opportunity to put his foot in it during events to come. Will there be a happy ending? Thing is, when I say that this piece is finished I may have left out the part concerning the very last chapter, and how there are a few paragraphs missing from the very end, so who knows how I decide to really wrap things up…:P I can promise you that Faramir will continue to be as lively as ever, though whether or not he is really receptive to Aragorn’s declarations is between me and my muse ;)

Thank you and happy new year! I hope you’ve had a wonderful one!

— Eora    2 January 2013, 00:24    #

Oh no no no! There´s absolutely no need to say sorry! I was perfectly well with a general reply. :) By the way, should I ever get the feeling that I somewhat lack the attention/praise I deserve I will ask myself “In this very situation, what would Faramir do?” Whereupon I will become all quiet and humble. Dealing with our beloved steward shapes the character, you know? :)

Perhaps the reason why our king tends to wrap himself into a slightly aloof attitude IS a certain fear of embarrassing situations? ;) Leaving book canon aside, I remember him rather dumbstruck when Gímli falls round his neck after his return from the death. And Éowyn´s cooking skills leave ihm cringing as well, and this is not aimed at the content of the stew… it just seems that common talk is one size too big for him – dealing with kings and lords is way easier! XD

Besides, and I will deny I ever said that: The Aragorn in the book, as admirable as he is, is not quite a loveable character. To me he appears rather distant towards ´normal´ people´s issues. I mean, he must have noticed Éowyn´s feelings and though he does not take any effort to clarify the situation. Any variation of “No thanks, I´m not interested because…” would have helped, but does he get off the fence? HAH!!

A doubtful happy end? NO NO NO NO NO, you won´t talk me into that! LALALALALALALALALA I cannot hear you!!!!

Okay, skip the last part. I´m far awy from pushing you into any direction. No, really. I am strong, I can deal with it! (sniffle)

— raven22372    2 January 2013, 21:33    #

Oh dear, I certainly didn’t intend to make you feel like Faramir does when he is ignored by his father :S You are not the lesser son! (What a strange metaphor…) But it is just as well that our favourite steward’s qualities are ones that we might take on ourselves and find we are not lit harshly by them :)

I think you are right, Aragorn (well, movie Aragorn) is a bit of a hypocrite I think, maybe. He is uncertain about his destiny, but then again doesn’t quite know how to place himself at the level of the ‘common man’ enough to not feel awkward when sampling Eowyn’s cooking or a jovial embrace from Gimli. Or maybe he feels perfectly at home as the anonymous ranger or soldier, but since his name and birthright is known to those he is surrounded by, maybe he feels he ought to behave a little more like a king should? And then Faramir comes along and Aragorn stumbles over himself in his mis-guided attempts to woo him, sort of :P

I would much rather have a more personable Aragorn, something about a king who is not only noble and wise but also kind and a good friend makes him all the more appealing. Poor Eowyn, though she does (canon-wise) end up with a rather acceptable husband in the end, don’t you agree?

Happy ending? What is that again? Hmm…let’s see, should I be kind to our boys or leave them hanging? ;P

Thank you again!!! :)

— Eora    11 January 2013, 22:30    #

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Man, what is your mouth doing to you? Don´t let it ruin your life!!! There are so many lovely things lips are capable of, go focus on those!!!

(cough cough) Err… well. I beg your pardon, I must have got carried away by my feelings. (sniff) Of course I would never try to take influence of any kind ever… ;)
What was I going to say? Ah yes. I CAN HEAR THEM. I swear I can hear their voices talking, so perfect you captured their tone. Faramir a little warmer, Aragorn a bit more mocking, but so well adjusted to each other. And then the images! This is a pictorial broadsheet full of beauty. The snow, the warm welcome, Faramir returning from his morning walk wet and in a slightly desolate state. No need to mention that now I feel inclined to draw those nightgowns…. oh my! :9

No worries, as a matter of fact I rather meant it like “dealing with out beloved Faramir Steward”. :) Really, sometimes when my huuuuuge ego is about to take me over, I try to remember what Faramir would do. “How important would this be to Faramir?” Occasionally it works (at least).

Quite an acceptable husband indeed HUM HUM HUM… definitely one for allday´s life, which you can´t say about (book) Aragorn. Most likely one has to be an immortal being to put up with so much supernatural nobility.

Beg your pardon again for this comment all shred into pieces. I´m not myself this morning, and now, after this enchanting reading, I have to go ponder about this night- err, shirt… :9

Totally irrelevant addendum: Ginger chest hair. (very shaky sigh)

And another one: “In my middle ages…” I absolutely support that! XD

— raven22372    13 January 2013, 08:36    #

Whaaa! Noo! Let Aragorn stumble back to say that he do love him!
If you’re gonna torture them and us some more, please let it be alright asap at least!

— Laivindur    13 January 2013, 20:23    #

YAY, the pitfalls are avoided!!! Rejoice, oh sons and daughters of Gondor, for the King´s clouded pate will be crowned with the halo of bliss again! \o/

Or, am I banging my drum too soon (eyes mistrustfully)? “To be continued”? What other cliffs are there to steer clear of? What is this new devilry the author is about to come up with? Do we have to fear for our heroes´ new found happiness???? /o\

(Cough cough) Err, sorry. Totally serious now. Erm. Yes. (Oxford voice on) Once more I´d like to point out how brilliantly the author points out the narrator´s insecurity and self- doubts, which is the more intriguing since he´s what one could call a person to be respected and used to deal with weighty issues. Also, mentioning the protagonists´physical averageness brings a refreshing breeze into the world of flawless superheroes and allows the reader to identify with them. And furthermore the writer of this comment would like to express her huge adoration for the author´s empathic writing and her subtle, affectionate sense of humor. (Oxford voice off, Dwarven voice on). May her beard never thin out! :)

— raven22372    23 January 2013, 13:17    #

Why am I so terrible at keeping up with comments? It’s not as if I’m not totally humbled by each one, I just seem to have the world’s worst attention span and get distracted by ten thousand other things and before you know it, two weeks have passed and I think to myself…time to post another chapt– hang on, the comments! D: So, please accept my heartfelt apologies again again forever again!

Laivindur, I’m very late in replying but hopefully your panic has been assuaged! Fret not, I really can’t be too cruel to these two for very long (even when writing more angst-ridden stories I can never finish them because I feel too sorry for everyone!) Thank you!

And Raven, my eternal inspirer (your coronation-rehearsal story is so very nearly finished…a paragraph or two more…it got a bit out of hand and is a lot longer than I anticipated, so I hope you don’t mind!) I thank you again, and attempt to combine my reply to two of your comments into one and somehow have it make sense even though the first comment will have questions that may have been answered by the chapter in between and I don’t know, help! To be continued indeed…in about five minutes when I upload the next chapter…I won’t spoil anything at all :P

While this story is generally just a tongue-in-cheek example of nonsense (well, sort of) I still can’t help but harken back to my most favourite of themes, i.e. the ‘weak’ king, here diluted slightly– we have Aragorn’s insistent internal monologue second-guessing himself, doubting, worrying away, wishing he hadn’t said this or that and altogether making a bit of an arse of being in love, but then again, why should kings be immune to that which can make us all a bit silly at times? And I’m sure, in an alternate universe where I have infinite time, patience and no distractions the version of the story written from Faramir’s perspective will have exactly the same volume of niggling little voices in the back of his mind stressing out about the perfect time and place to confess his feelings to Aragorn, or inwardly vocalising his anxiety over whether or not the king prefers redheads (and their chest hair) :P I don’t know, I really don’t think I’m very good at any of this writing lark whatsoever, it’s all just a bit of fun for myself but I at least hope that in my attempt to make the characters as ‘real’ as they are to me in my head (how do I explain? When I think of them all no-one is on a pedestal…I’m interested in the people themselves, the minutiae of their daily lives, their thoughts and dreams and fears…the realism of awkward, non-Hollywood sex, ha!) I’m creating something that is at least passable? As for physical averageness, I find it generally more attractive than looking at someone straight from the pages of Middle Earth Vogue or whatever :P Nobody’s perfect and that’s the best part [strokes beard] :)

— Eora    3 February 2013, 22:35    #

Oh no no no! Do you not apologize for fan work not counting as a respectable occupation you get a kingly salary for! It´s an unfortunate fact that even the most dedicated writer suffers of constant distraction by real life´s demands. But no matter how massive the pressure, do always remember rule no. 243: “Thou shalt not let the feelings of guilt get between you and your creativity!” :)

But now. Eventually! :D They made it! With a little push from a benevolent author, that is. Rejoice, o Gondor!!! :D After endless squirming and suffering finally the first morning under the ostensibly NOT-seeing eyes of the servantry! What a great day for the realm! :D

Indeed, I have no doubt that given we would unscrew Faramir´s head and take a look inside, we would catch a sight of the same mental turmoil. A thicket of hope, fear, doubts and the omnipresent feeling of coming across terribly stupid, woven around a center of stainless virtue and glory: THE KING. The King who never does anything wrong. The king who never doubts or feel silly. The King… oh, well, he could take a bath now and then…

Speaking of it:
“I thought frequent baths were a thing you were doing now?”
I always had the vague feeling there was a certain gap yawning in the movie script but couldn´t figure it out until you came up with hhis sentence..! XDDD Yes, Mr. King, wasn´t that part of your daily duties? As in:
19:00 – Small private Dinner with close friends
20:00 – Discussing the preparations for the upcoming bards´ contest
21:00 – General relaxation by the fireplace with a cup of wine
22:00 – Daily BATH, including head massage and subsequent foot reflexology
22:30 – to bed with hottie and favourite pillow; bedtime story at 22:45, lights off at 23:00.

But again I digress when it´s actually my intention to praise your achievement! Which of course I fully blame you for. It´s oviously impossible for me to read through even the shortest piece of Eora literature without hatching a thousand ideas and a million thoughts. In earlier centuries your writing would have certainly drawn the attention of the Department for Witchcraft, Spells and other Supernatural Activities!

P.S.: It´s also impossible to not need at least one tissue. The intense atmosphere of universal affection and comfort you create makes the lack of it in RL way too palpable and you shalt not get away without a big, wet, sobbing hug. :)

P.P.S.: I still can´t believe there is a ´coronation´ fic under construction. Seriously. The universe must be mistaken here. Oh my… :)))

P.P.P.S.: One tiny subject that has nothing to do with your fabulous work (or, well, actually it does) but since I´d like to avoid spamming your mail box again with count- and mainly meaningless messages, I thought it better to drop it here:
Given that the fabulous tea has come to a quick and definite end and left nothing but its prettily printed box, I wonder whether it is recommendable to store English tea in a can saying “Scottish Breakfast tea”. Do you, as an expert, think this would cause any severe problems? I fear revolt, mayhem, and the ghosts of blue painted men roaring “FREEDOM!!!!” in my kitchen…

— raven22372    7 February 2013, 20:39    #

“You’re a funny one.” – I can´t help figuring Glenn Owen Dodds saying this…

And since I´ve started this quotation thing:
“I can’t believe I just slept with the king,” – I might be overinterpreting once more but to me this tiny simple sentence grants us a quick glance on Faramir´s own insecurities. All the time he appears to act with sleepwalking self-confidence and sudenly he is like “Omg, I can´t believe this is happening!”

And for another unknown reason I find the image of two proper men trying to hide behind statue incredibly pleasing. Like in a cartoon when all you can see is a column/tree/statue with a belly and redundant feet and No no, there´s absolutely nobody back here. X) Of course my same warm affection goes to a slightly intoxicated Aragorn. I bet he has long found a method to look very grave and focussed, ´an image of the splendor of the kings of Men´, so to say, when in truth his only desire is to get into his steward´s pants asap. X)

Again you created such a rich atmosphere of love and understanding and humour – if it was me to leave the country and discover the great wide world, this was exactly what I would take with me to ease the pain of homesickness!

Somehow I had expected Faramir being the steersman in this encounter… but for Idontknowhich reason the fact that he is NOT adds a strangely delicate aspect… like, of course its´s Aragorn telling the story, but at the same time it´s also the first-person narrator and… okay, this might sound very silly, but the notion of having sexual intercourse with err, Faramir, and being, err, ON TOP is err…WOW. To the power of ten. With an echo. Err. I think I better get a cloth and care about that puddle of saliva before any innocent passer-by accidently slips and gets hurt…

Plus: I´m firmly convinced of ´epiphanous`being a word. And if not, I´ll be the first one who vote for it to make its way into the Oxford Dictionary!

Eight days left! :D Have no fear, Eora! The forces of good are with you and it will all turn out fine! :D

— raven22372    17 February 2013, 08:36    #

I really enjoyed this piece. I liked the chemistry between the two and esp. Faramir’s optimism and playfulness. Very nice work.

— Nessa Lossëhelin    22 February 2013, 17:02    #

…Blonder now with age…
And I thought that was only my perception. Aah, the Austra… Ithilien sun! ;)

This, my dear. This is the most shameless and beautiful declaration of love an object of desire could ever wish for. :) If all these divine images became photographs, they would make the most exquisite picture book – if they became frescoes and murals, they would make a second Sistine Chapel. Your fics – and that means all of them – are monuments of love for their protagonists and it´s almost a pity the ´real´ people can´t read them (though, who knows?). I genuflect in awe! :)

And just when the beauty of the man scenery is about to make your heart break, you add that pinch of reality that grounds the story and makes the characters even more adorable. An ´ever after´ after ´and they lived happily…´You give us an enchanting (and though convincing) idea of a well-working relationship when the ´hot phase´ (is that a term at all?) is over. The excitement has ceased, the presence of the other one has become familiar. And though the tension has not been replaced by habit, the respect for each other is still there. I like this calm, serene tableau; it spreads so much faith. They´re now on a level when you don´t ned the other one around to know he´s there. Time has not worn out this relationship but made it solid.

I´m glad to learn that, in the turmoil of RL, you still find time to do what you love to do. :) And of course I agree to your suggestion regarding err, material issues, I was just worrying it might get you into trouble. I promise there will be a reply coming in soon – and I´m firmly determined to keep it short, so you can focus on other things (like, the sighting of unexpected redheads)! Keep an eye on your flip flops, dear, and mind your sun screen!

— raven22372    19 March 2013, 08:35    #

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Eora

Hello, I’m Eora :) As well as on this site I collect my writing (and general ramblings) on my journal. If you want to ask me anything you are more than welcome to comment/befriend me there :)