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The Strangest of Dances (NC-17) Print

Written by Eora

17 March 2013 | 19768 words

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Author’s Note: I thought it was about time I finished this (I know I’m woefully behind on replying to comments but life has been hectic lately to say the least!) Anyway, I hope you enjoy where this little journey has led as much as I enjoyed writing it :)


Epilogue.

I’d thought about it for a long time. Years in fact, and I’d dreamt of it once before everything even began. Now, I thought, was time enough.

I found Faramir out on the balcony as he was wont to be these days, enjoying the warm evening breeze, watching the summer sun disappear slowly beyond the hills, nursing wine or a book or often both. He had a chair there, something of dark wood and solidly wrought that I’d gifted him on a previous birthday. This was his space. He’d draped a deerskin over it, soft woven blankets, and there was a cushion for his back, and in the evenings when I read my letters and replied to some by firelight at my desk, he would take himself out for an hour or so by himself, and think his own thoughts. Often I would lean back from my notes, and watch him for a moment, intent on his book, peaceful, happy, I hope. He was older now, we both were, not by too much, but still. He stayed with me now in my rooms when he was in the city, more or less (of course, ‘officially’ he did not, but really the only things he kept in his own apartments were the books that didn’t fit into mine). We’d never come clean about our relationship, never gone public, but I think we would have been foolish to think that some of the more astute (or scandal-hungry) of the inner court didn’t have at least an inkling. Close friends were one thing, but in hindsight I realise now that it was probably quite apparent to anyone who looked closely enough in the early days that we were quite smitten with one another. No-one had ever commented, so I did tend to wonder what all the fuss was about (though I kept that thought to myself, for privately I think Faramir really did fear the reaction, and I was content to let it lie).

This evening I forwent my correspondence and headed straight for the balcony. Faramir glanced up as I passed him, heading for the balustrade, looking over the city out into the expanse of Gondor. He sat with legs crossed, leaning back in his chair, book held open with two fingers. “You’re early tonight, love.”

“Sick of writing,” I said, giving him a smile. “Thought I’d disturb you instead.”

“’Tis no disturbance.” (Our bickering had mellowed out a little over time.) “We might get you a chair; I’d enjoy your company here on nights such as these.”

“But in winter I can bugger off?” (Mellowed, only.) He laughed, and went back to his book. I smiled again to myself. I loved him, I loved him. Time enough.

“Come here?” I said, and when he set aside the book and rose, I slung my arm about his waist as we stood facing the city, the Pelennor, Ithilien, the distant notion of the Riddermark, the earth itself. Rather heavy-handed, I agree, but the moment was spiced with a strange magic beyond that of which I hoped to cast with my impending incantations.

But before I could speak, and weave such charms, Faramir shifted and leant his head upon my shoulder, heavy and soap-scented. I spun a kiss into his curls; blonder now with age, threads of pale gold amongst skeins of copper. My own hair was greying now, silver at my temples and in my beard, but Faramir still came to our bed with undiminished ardour and that was all I cared about.

“What on earth are you fiddling with?” He had lifted his head, and reached for my free hand, dancing on the stone of the railing. I opened my palm; the curve of twin serpents glinted there in silver and green. Faramir lifted Barahir’s ring from my hand and looked at it, running his fingernail along an edge gently. “I don’t think I‘ve ever seen you take this off.”

“Would you wear it?” I asked, leaning away from him a little. He looked at me, nonplussed. The wind caught his hair; he stood with the sunset behind him, framing him with a halo of molten star-fire, his auburn waves alight. His eyes looked into me, a thousand leagues into me, and I was open to him, every part of me. I was his, utterly his, until the last leaf fell and the rivers ran dry. Until the last wave crashed upon the shores of Valinor, I was his. “Will you marry me?”

I didn’t know what I expected but he was quiet for what seemed like an eternity of the earth. He was looking at the ring in his hand, and then I saw the shimmer of saltwater on his cheek, and I fought the almost irrepressible urge to reach out to him. “Faramir, love, don’t weep. You can say no!” I said with a little humour, but the reality of that refusal was something I didn’t like to prepare for.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, wiping his face roughly with his palm. “I just…I never…” He smiled, a huff of shy laughter that I’d not heard from him in the gods knew how long. “I just…you told me this ring has been in your family for generations. I’m not sure I should have it.”

I took his hand and curled his fingers around the ring. “You will be a part of my family, if you say yes.” I had thought about it, all of it, the practical aspects as well as the romantic; Faramir was not going to bear my children (nor I his, I hasten to add), but he had cousins, and their descendants would be my heirs. The line of the stewards would not longer be kings in all but name, but the line of kings itself. All of this I would tell Faramir later, we could arrange everything, it would be alright. All he needed to do was–

“Then, yes.” I had been looking at our hands; my head jolted up to see his laughing eyes, his warm, close-lipped smile. “I will marry you.” He leaned closer, tilting his head. “Heart of my life.” He kissed me then, so soft a caress, but firm, the sealing of a contract. I could had kissed him back for the rest of my life, but there was one thing I needed to do first. I looked down at his hands in mine.

“I hope it fits, after all that,” I said, and I felt his sigh of laughter dance in the loose strands of my hair. I took the ring, and turned his left hand over. “I know this isn‘t your ring finger,” I slipped it over the first digit where it fit as if made for his hand. “But you might agree we are not the most traditional of betrothed ever to grace this particular balcony.” I met his gaze again, and his eyes were shining. His hands lifted, and framed my face most delicately, thumbs brushing over my cheeks, smoothing over my eyebrows as if he was reminding himself of who I was. I watched him, wordless. His expression was one of wonder, and I wondered myself if he would ever really know how much I cared for him, how inexplicably lucky I knew myself to be for finding the other half of myself in him. Then he kissed me again, differently this time; he surged forward, and held me to him, and we shared the same breath for many minutes. His tongue was tender and hot, thrusting into my mouth not un-gently, and I met him with equal fervour, my longer whiskers catching on his coppery stubble. The sun dimmed, but Faramir was alight, and I wrapped my arms around him.

“Let us never be parted,” he said, his forehead against mine. I could feel his smile. His fingertips ran through my beard endlessly. There was nothing I could do but agree.


One of the nicer aspects of the length of our relationship was that it allowed for a certain degree of easiness with one another; one way of putting it might be that we were just used to being together, but I liked to think it was more our feeling comfortable, though in fairness it was both. Thus, I was often treated to the delightful sight of Faramir emerging from the bath chamber, wringing out his damp hair, reaching for a comb, perhaps shifting a chair out of the way, or selecting a book, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head as he passed before finally deciding at some point to put underclothes on. And sometimes, I treated him to a similar scenario.

This night, some time after my proposal, he did much the same thing, striding from the bathroom and looking around the room, before finally standing in the centre of it all with his hands on his hips and a puzzled expression on his face.

“Lost something?” I lay on my back on the bed, arms folded behind my head, ankles crossed, equally undressed.

“Believe it or not,” he said, moving cushions on the couch. “I’m looking for my smallclothes.”

“Pah, come here instead. I prefer you thus!” I grinned, reaching out an arm to him, into whose reach he eventually migrated. I pulled him onto the bed beside me and mussed his hair annoyingly.

He shrugged, face hidden behind a tumult of strawberry-blonde. He wore naught but the ring of Barahir. “I think only upon the questions the servants might ask when they find my linens in your chambers.”

“Remember when I cared about what the servants thought?” He made a face at me, then yawned, turning onto his front, chin propped up on his elbows to look at me. “I think you hurled them somewhere earlier, though I was hardly in a fit state of mind to record their exact landing position.” Sex as betrothed seemed to stir up within the both of us some sort of internal infernos, at least my blood certainly felt heated beyond all reckoning. Faramir took me, and I forgot my name and who I was for what seemed like my whole life. What on earth did I do before I met him? (Other than put my hands to certain uses.)

“Shift over, will, you? I’m going to fall off the bed.” And I knew then that I was looking at him strangely for he just shook his head at me and shoved me gently. I moved, digging the bedclothes out from beneath the both of us and drawing them up to our chins. I thought it best to leave out my prophetic dreams for the moment, even though now, at last, they had all come true. I knew he knew something of such things, but he was yawning again, and shoving me further over, and I was content to comply. His hand slipped from the covers and pushed my hair from my eyes. “Goodnight, husband,” he said, and kissed me, sweet as the very first time, when snow glinted in our hair, and chilly fingers clasped my own.


My dear reader.

That is the tale in its telling. Is this ending abrupt? Is it an ending?, I might counter, but for now my wrist aches, and the light is low, and my handwriting is bad enough without even such hindrances. I will set aside my chronicle, and beg refuge within a familiar embrace. He waits for me, you know, and though one could say he is used to such things this time I will not keep him lonely for long. Just a moment, I said to him, and the last I saw of him was his bare backside disappearing between the bed-curtains. I will join him shortly. I’m afraid he presents a far more enticing prospect than scribing this account even if he is its subject. Flesh over fiction, I would say, but you must know that everything I have laid out here has been nothing but the truth.

I must of course admit this has been but one side of a story of two halves; for the unbiased account, for an un-tapped slew of disparaging inner-monologues, for the whole truth and everything else, you will have to ask Faramir.

(But you will needs wait until morning for that.)

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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 :)