Faramir Fiction Archive

Trial and Judgment (NC-17)

Written by Mcguffan

04 April 2004 | 57094 words

For minutes afterward my breath continued hard and ragged. Aragorn had rolled off of me so that I would not be crushed under his weight. He still held me, though, and I leaned happily against him.

“I love you, my Faramir. You are essential to my happiness, loveling. I need you with me.” Aragorn whispered in my ear as he tried to pull me still closer against him.

“I love you too. And there is no way for you to be rid of me, my beloved lord.” I said nestling against him. “I love you so much.” I repeated a little sleepily.

We cuddled together for a while kissing and touching until sleep overtook Aragorn. It was as though a nearly transparent veil dropped over his emotions at the moment he slipped out of consciousness. I had been fighting sleepiness myself but I wanted to know what it was to have my beloved Aragorn sleeping close beside me so I remained wakeful. I put my arms carefully around him as I pretended that I was his protector and his guardian that I had both the power and the right to keep him safe from all that threatened him. I had already faced down several large and impertinent dragons who had the audacity to offer my lord insult when my subconscious played a nasty trick and confronted me with the lady’s image. The fantasy was irretrievably shattered and worry began gnawing at my mind.

I felt certain Aragorn was intent upon rejecting the lady’s proffered gift and I was afraid. Would she permit him to live knowing that she could not control him? Even if she did middle-earth was still largely in chaos. People would suffer if he denied himself any advantage in reestablishing reason and the rule of law. I knew he would argue that there was a fundamental inconsistency about using a power which robbed people of their dignity to establish any kind of just system but the point was debatable. Then… then there was my own predicament. If Arargorn could no longer read my thoughts how would he know just how much I loved him. For I loved him beyond words and deeds. If he came to know of my devotion he might not believe or understand how completely I belonged to him. If Aragorn refused the lady she would at the very least steal his memory of the last day and night. He would forget I loved him and that he had loved me. How could I endure that?

Then there was my own desperate insecurity. Could I give up my window into another’s mind. It was so hard to believe that Aragorn could love me. Without the aid of the lady’s gift it might be impossible. There was so much paralyzing uncertainty. It was not only I who would benefit from whatever the scabbard revealed. I would be better able to meet Éowyn’s needs if I could better understand her feelings. I would know for certain when an argument concerned an intellectual disagreement and when it was merely a personality conflict. In short, there would be no more terrible agonizing doubt about what another expected from me. I would never again hurt someone because of some stupid misunderstanding or misinterpretation.

There were other considerations as well. Once we left this place I would no longer be allowed to spend every moment with my beloved. Beyond this place loomed the lady Arwen. I knew Éowyn would not begrudge me whatever love Aragorn might come to offer me. She desired my happiness. We loved one another greatly with a love that understood compromise and could endure all the slings and arrows of life. But what of the queen? Was she not of the fairytale world where everything resolved itself into a neat formula which always rendered ‘and then the prince and princess lived happily ever after?’ There was no room for the hopelessly enthralled Steward in such an equation. True, the queen had given me to understand that she did not disapprove of Éowyn and Leonin, but that was not the same as being willing to share Aragorn.

Of course Aragorn himself had not appeared to worry about lady Arwen. Surely he would never have done something he thought would be a betrayal of her. Perhaps it was simply true that elves were different. On the other hand, Aragorn could have honestly misunderstood his lady. Love had driven the queen to extraordinary acts of self-sacrifice. Might not the same love drive her to extraordinary acts of jealousy? The lady Arwen would be a formidable rival. For Aragorn I would challenge the gods themselves but what hope had I of prevailing against the Evenstar.

The worry and anxiety had worked themselves into my stomach and I felt a little sick. In my fear I held Aragorn even tighter but he too seemed to be in some disquiet. He could not remain still. Once he seemed to strike out at some invisible opponent. His breathing was somewhat labored and his skin glistened with sweat. I tried to calm him, murmuring endearments and smoothing his hair. As I brushed his hair from his sweat damp forehead I saw again the pale shadow of the lady’s star. Gods! I was giving him nightmares. As the realization hit me, it was Aragorn who moaned. Had I conjured into his mind some night terror vision of Arwen and me locked in deadly combat? Or perhaps I had forced into his subconscious some image of the peoples of middle earth tearing themselves apart as he watched helplessly and the lady’s laughter rang forth? I did not dare indulge in self reproach. By sheer force of will I made myself concentrate on pleasant things. At first I was completely stymied. The best I could come up with was a big platter of cheese. I tried harder and an image of a summer day with the sun glinting on the gleaming white tower of Minas Tirith sprang into my head. It was starting to get a little easier now. I imagined I was reading in my study with one of the household cats settled contentedly on a proposed amendment to the statute regulating liquor sale. It took a while but Aragorn was calm again. He even chuckled once. I sighed and drew him to me so I could curl protectively around him. Still aggressively thinking happy thoughts I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.

I woke to find Aragorn smiling across at me. He had been idly twisting a lock of my hair around his finger. When he saw I was awake he leaned forward to kiss me. I kissed him back. The room was bright now and the table was laden with a big breakfast. From this I surmised it was ‘morning’. I quickly turned away from the piles of sausages and fried potatoes. I was famished and it was better to avoid temptation.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Aragorn greeted me with another kiss. It was near miraculous to wake up beside him.

“Good morning.” I answered, seeking and receiving yet another kiss. The kiss deepened. When we broke apart Aragorn sighed happily and stretched out beside me. In the brighter light I noticed an angry red mark upon my lord’s shoulder. “What’s this?” I inquired lightly touching the laceration.

“You do not recognize your own handiwork, loveling?” Aragorn countered, smiling.

“I did this?” I asked mortified.

“You most certainly did and more besides, my fierce, ferocious, beautiful, delightful, wonderful Faramir.” He answered still stretching lazily.

“Let me see.” I demanded still incredulous. Obligingly Aragorn turned his back to me and I saw that it was true. I put my hand to one of the many patterns of scratch marks and my fingers matched exactly. “I am terribly sorry.” I said contritely.

“Don’t be, dear-heart. I’m certainly not.” He said with a twinkle in his eye. Then he grew somber. “But in all seriousness, Faramir, are you quite all right?”

I moved around a little bit trying to evaluate how my body felt. “I think I feel fine.” I answered after a moment. “A little sore maybe, but nothing at all to worry about.” I said confidently. I kissed him again before I continued. “I love you, you know. Let me do something about this.” I said gesturing toward the red weals that I had inflicted in the heat of passion.

Aragorn nodded his acquiescence and I went to fetch a wet towel. When I had the towel and I had finally found the little jar of ointment from last night (it had rolled under the bed) I began cleaning the wounds. It took a long time for I spent as much time kissing and massaging as I did cleansing and applying salve. Finally, there was no more to be done and I reluctantly put aside the towel and the now empty jar.

Aragorn sat up and whether it was instinct or the lady’s power he took me in his arms and held me while I cried. Time had run out and there would be no reprieve. Soon he would have to let me go and we would wash and dress then go forth to confront the lady and I was afraid.

My father had always taught me never to delay a necessary but unpleasant task. So it was that I did not tarry but prepared for the day at my usual pace. When all was ready I stood at the entrance to the corridor with a heavy heart. Aragorn came up beside me and turned me toward him. “Faramir, I love you. I want you to remember that. I need you to remember that. I love you.”

His gazed pinned me to the spot as he awaited an answer. “If it is your wish then I needs must obey.” I replied, trying but failing to smile. Aragorn leaned forward and kissed me once passionately on the lips then he kissed me once chastely on the forehead before taking my hand and starting down the corridor.

As always the lady awaited us. I had thought that I would be able to see the cruelty in her face but I could not. She was unchanged, cold and beautiful.

“What say you, king of men?” The lady asked, staring unblinkingly at Aragorn.

“I want naught to do with this abomination. Take back your ‘gift’, lady. I wish you all that it will avail you.” Aragorn spoke in his most kingly voice and the lady trembled whether in fear or rage I could not guess.

“Think, fool! Even in places where men live under what in their ignorance they please to call government, that government is as the mist that burns away in the heat of crisis, protecting none save those who could protect themselves. Your people are barbarian savages. When your petty warlords aren’t busy killing one another, they occupy themselves competing to see who can most throughly brutalize those under their command. Your life, health and safety and that of those you love are ever at the mercy of nature and she is not merciful. The only law is that the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must. With a strong leader, some progress might be made. Reason could be shown to those who understand it and strength shown to those who understand that. With a common purpose man might just have a chance and you would throw that chance away so that you may think of yourself as incorruptible Apparently there is not enough blood and suffering on man’s conscience to suit you. You would prefer to watch as man flounders in his degradation, abandoned by all races who make even a pretense at civilization, a pitiable creature whose capacity and ambition do not stretch beyond the next meal.” The lady spit forth her words as a snake spits forth its poison. Two bright spots of harsh color burned in her pale cheeks.

Aragorn watched the lady coolly, a striking contrast to her furious intensity. “What you have said has been said before. Perhaps there is truth in it. Perhaps more could be said. It may be that I simply lack the will to wield a power that will help my people. It may also be that men are selfish and arrogant as well as weak and brutal but that is only half. Nature may bring killing winters and famine but come the next season people persevere. They return to build again. All the storms and droughts, floods and plagues have not broken humanity’s spirit. Though a man may fail, Man persists. It is a grave error to question Mankind’s will.

If there is cruelty there is also compassion. People will risk their short, fragile, precious lives in aid of one another. More than that they will risk their lives for an idea if they believe that idea is more important than themselves. Much else might be presented to humanity’s credit but let one thing more suffice. Sometimes, not often but once in a while, Mankind learns from his mistakes and the mistakes of others. Humanity will make progress. It will be slow and painstaking but it will happen. To trot along at the end of your leash, madam, is no shortcut.”

The hair at the back of my neck was standing on end. I wanted to think about what Aragorn had just said. It seemed as though there were implications I was not quite fully aware of. Yet, I also feared the lady’s reaction. I tried to casually edge my way between my lord and the lady but as ever while in her presence I could neither move nor speak without her leave.

“Enjoy the new dark age, manling. I hope you live long enough to understand the full cost of your lack of insight.” As the lady spoke she raised her hand. A great ball of energy seemed to be torn from Aragorn and flow into her hand. When the blazing light faded and I could see again I turned and screamed soundlessly. Aragorn lay on the floor with a bloody gash in the middle of his forehead.

I strained against my invisible bonds until suddenly I was free. I ran to my lord’s side. I knew he still lived for I was yet attune to his emotions, even so, it was a great relief to feel the warmth of his body and see the rise and fall of his chest. His eyelids fluttered briefly as I drew his head onto my knee. His forehead looked like someone had cut a rough circle from its center with a dull knife. Blood still oozed from the wound.

“What is wrong with you?!” I yelled at the lady, horrified at her display of vindictiveness.

The lady, however, ignored my outburst. “What of you, little one? He still cares for you.” She had laced the word ‘he’ with venom but she then resumed in neutral tones. “But then you know that, don’t you. Will you still know it if you leave here without my gift? He need never find out you kept it. Put it in your pack use it only when you truly need it.” She said no more perhaps aware that my head was already spinning with the temptation.

Only my own soul was at hazzard. I was no true leader but only a poor substitute. Thus, whatever I chose affected me alone. The fate of a people did not rest upon my narrow shoulders. But I knew that wasn’t the entire truth. If I believed the only way to keep Aragorn’s love was to keep the lady’s gift I would move heaven and earth to keep the gift. If I accepted her crutch I would never walk again, better to teeter along on my own with the hope of slowly growing stronger. I knew that intellectually but that was a far cry from the knowledge I needed. Aragorn’s love for me shone like a jewel in my mind. If only I could be sure that I had the substance when I gave up the vision. I lingered long on the brink of decision.

“Take it.” I finally sobbed. Even as I spoke the unbreakable loop around my waist disintegrated and the sheath clattered to the floor. The jewel was gone. The light turned dark.

“You may go.” The lady’s voice broke me away from the morbid contemplation of my loss.

“That’s it?” I asked disbelieving. The casual dismissal seemed incredible given all that had gone on before. I wanted an explanation even as part of me urgently begged me to take Aragorn and get the hell out of there. Had the lady not already said that ‘why’ was a foolish question?

“You keep us in mortal fear for three days, put us through tortures that would disgust any honest ‘barbarian savage’ and all you have to say is ‘you may go.’” I was shouting. I was angry. I was angry for my lord and… and I was angry for myself. What she had done was wrong and somehow I had to tell her so even if she didn’t understand.

“Those who find death here, find it at their own hand or at the hands of their companions.” So the bitch had intended to incite us to violence against one another. “As for torture, you brought that on yourselves. If you had accepted my several offers you would have spared yourselves. It was repulsive watching the two of you dance circles around one another. Both of you pining desperately for the other. Both of you having the means to possess the other and neither of you having the nerve. When I tore the scales from your eyes and confronted each of you with the truth of the other’s affection, were you grateful? No! You whined about violation and voyeurism. It was as though you had enjoyed your previous state of ignorance. By the end you had both become so dull-witted and contrary that you would not eat when you were hungry.” The lady was contemptuous and I felt again the razored edge of her voice.

“What now?” I asked, caution slowly returning to me.

“Haven’t you been listening? A shadow falls over middle-earth. The cruelty of men will run unfettered. Chaos will reign until the next age when I will come again to offer the beleaguered survivors another opportunity to be guided into civilization. Pray that your lord was correct and by that time you will have indeed learned from your mistakes.” As the lady finished I saw the wall behind her shimmer into the weirdly shifting shapes of the tapestry.

“You’re wrong.” I said almost in a daze. Then I repeated more loudly: “You’re wrong. We will do just fine without you. We don’t need you. You have made trial of us and found us weak and perhaps stupid, but it works both ways. We have also made trial of you and there may yet come a day when it will be our judgment that counts.”

“Get you gone, child, before I become angry.” For the first time the lady turned her back before she disappeared.

The path lay clear to the tapestry and escape. I hurriedly pulled Aragorn’s arm around my neck and put my own arm around his waist as I struggled to my feet. Aragorn was hovering on the border between wakefulness and unconsciousness so he was able to support a little of his own weight as I half dragged, half carried him to the portal. The air did not so much as stir as we stumbled out, away from the lady and her prison… but not into freedom.

“Where the hell did you come from?” I looked around in a panic trying to take up a defensive stance in front of Aragorn.

I saw that the dark lord’s throne room now contained at least five men. The speaker moved boldly into my line of sight. With a sinking heart I saw emblazoned upon his breastplate a black boar standing beneath a golden sun. The men from Harad had arrived.

“Eru’s balls! They made it before us!” exclaimed a second voice. The man from Harad was shoved aside and I was looking at Gandalf. No, not Gandalf, his brother wizard, probably. Had all Istari been modeled on the same human figure? The resemblance was eerie.

I still supported Aragorn but I also gripped the hilt of my sword tightly wondering if I would have to draw before the others were able to disarm me. Aragorn was leaning heavily against me but he was standing, at least partly, under his own power. The wizard stalked up to us glowering malevolently. The men from Harad shrank away from the wizard’s menacing intensity.

“Greetings Berwith the Blue” Aragorn said, trying very hard not to slur his words.

The wizard did not look pleased to have been identified. He reached forward and placed two fingers onto Aragorn’s forehead where the blood still welled. Even such a light touch was enough to disrupt Aragorn’s balance and I had to use all my strength to keep him from swaying too noticeably. Berwith brought his bloody fingers to his lips and tasted. After a moment of consideration the wizard spat on the stone floor. “Greetings Elessar descendant of the Númenór. What found you in this place to give your blood such a deep flavor of magic?” The wizard asked, his voice stripped of everything but a polite slightly patronizing curiosity.

Aragorn did not answer and the wizard reached toward his bleeding forehead once more with an almost hungry expression. This time, however I abandoned the grip on my encumbered sword and struck the wizard’s hand away. My arm was instantly seized and wrenched behind my back by one of the men who had been creeping around us once Aragorn had been named. I ignored the pain shooting up my arm and met Berwith’s angry glare with a steady gaze.

Having found an opportunity to intervene the man I had seen upon first emerging from the lady’s world, most likely a captain, signaled for his men to disarm us. I was in no position to protest as our swords were taken. When two men began pulling Aragorn away from me, however, I started to struggle. I crushed the instep of the man behind me holding my arm. He yelled and released me. I punched another of the soldiers who had taken hold of my lord’s arm in the face. I was reaching for the man’s sword when I was grabbed from behind and thrown hard into the wall. I lurched back towards Aragorn but now swords had been drawn and were pointed at me. Undeterred I ignored the swords; I was intent upon reaching Aragorn. Another man hit me with the pommel of his sword, I staggered but continued forward. Then I was struck again and then again but I went on.

“Faramir! Stop!” Aragorn’s voice halted me in my tracks. My head was reeling and I found I had to slip to my knees. When I dropped to my knees the blows stopped. Quickly my wrists were tied behind my back and I was dragged upright. I looked around and saw that Aragorn was being held fast by two men. His hands were tied behind him and though he was obviously struggling hard not to lean too much against either man his guards looked more than a little wary of their captive.

Seeing that I had been subdued Berwith returned his attention to Aragorn. “I think you have something that might be of great interest to me. I would prefer that you cooperate with me, but I assure you, your cooperation is not essential.” The wizard’s threat was delivered in silky soft voice. I growled a warning deep in my throat. The grip on my arms tightened in response.

“Your pardon, master wizard, but I think we should apprize the prince of developments.” Interjected the captain.

“And interrupt his royal highness’s tea? What do you suppose the fat- headed toad is likely to contribute?” Berwith scoffed.

The captain fidgeted like a man who does not particularly respect his master but is too much a soldier to be comfortable hearing his superiors disparaged. “Sir, if this is indeed King Elessar then any interro- then any questioning should really take place in the presence-”

“Oh, all right! We’ll do it your way.” The wizard sounded like a man giving into a child’s unreasonable demand just to stop the whining. Turning with an exasperated shrug Berwith the Blue flounced out of the room. Aragorn and his two guards followed next, I was marched along in their wake then the captain brought up the rear of our strange procession.

The walk was clearing my head of the fog and dizziness brought on by the brief fight. I felt in full possession of my faculties as I was pushed into the bright sunlight beyond the great gate of the dark tower. To my profound agitation my lord was not fairing as well. I was certain he had a concussion and though he tried valiantly he was relying more and more upon his guards for guidance and support. To their credit the Haradrim were being as gentle as possible under the circumstances for it was obvious that Aragorn was injured, perhaps badly.

After my eyes had adjusted to the blessed light of day I saw that a large pavilion had been set up on the field before Barad Dur. There were a few smaller tents as well as cook fires, picketed horses and groups of men playing dice or resting in the meager shade. Legolas had not been far off his estimate I counted twenty-four mounts presumably for twenty-four soldiers. There also seemed to be an unnecessary abundance of pack animals which explained the gaudy pavilion.

“Well have you discovered the great magic you promised me yet, Wizard?” Called a man stepping from the pavilion. The man spied Aragorn and myself and stopped short. “What have we here?” He asked mildly curious. To my chagrin I recognized the man: Prince Dalfor, heir apparent to the kingdom of Harad.

“No, you arrogant little fop! You let others arrive before us! If you had not been so damn concerned with your precious baggage, we would have arrived first and who knows what power could now be in our hands.” The wizard harangued. Even while Berwith railed, the captain had gone up to his lord and was whispering quietly to the prince. As the captain spoke a feral grin slowly crept across the prince’s face.

“Well done, master wizard! You have brought me a prize beyond my expectation.” The prince exclaimed.

“Don’t be simple minded. You could have all your enemies in your power now, if you had but moved a little faster. All may not yet be lost, however for these two have been touched by magic. We may gain from them what we should have gained for ourselves directly.” The wizard was fuming at the prince’s smugness.

“Well perhaps I simply lack your ambition, my friend, for I am quite pleased to have this single enemy in my power. Lig, fetch a chair for our royal guest. He looks like he has had a rough time of it.” A man rushed off to comply with the prince’s command. Soon Aragorn was seated a short distance from the prince. Though Dalfor reclined on a couch strewn with embroidered cushions and Aragorn sat on a camp stool with his arms still bound, it was clear who was the king.

The prince leaned toward Aragorn as though he were speaking confidentially to a friend. “Elessar, I am so pleased to meet you, Berwith thinks you must have found something here in this gods forsaken place, something mystical and supremely powerful. Of course, I only half believed his tale of magical talismans and so forth but I came anyway. Frankly, I was beginning to regret the trip but the opportunity to meet you has made all well. Naturally, if you have found anything of note it might be best to speak of it now. If the rumors of powerful magic have reached your ears with enough strength to draw you here, there might well be some truth in them, no?”

“We have nothing to interest you, man of Harad.” Aragorn said quietly.

“He’s lying. They both reek of it. His blood is steeped in power.” Berwith hissed. The wizard was sitting cross legged on the ground. He had emptied our packs out before him and was going through everything meticulously.

Dalfor made ‘tut tut’ sounds at the wizard, then leaned in to address Aragorn again. “That is a little disappointing. I believe you of course, but I doubt the wizard has the breeding to trust a gentleman’s word and as distasteful as it is to me personally we are allies in this venture and so I must let him satisfy his small minded suspicions.” Dalfor smiled apologetically. “Yet still, it is awfully difficult to believe that the mighty Elessar would have trekked all this way with only a single companion…” at the allusion to myself, Dalfor fixed a curious eye on me, almost as if he were seeing me for the first time. The guard captain, still hovering by the prince, whispered to him once more.

“Faramir, Faramir…” The prince said meditatively. Then he snapped his fingers. “The Steward’s second son, right?”

I made the least bow possible consistent with the demands of courtesy. “Lord Prince Dalfor.” I said meeting his eyes.

Those eyes widened briefly as I named him but his surprise was fleeting. “Yes, of course we met once didn’t we?” I nodded in the affirmative. We had met but he had paid little attention to me, the shy bookish younger son of his father’s enemy.

Having settled the question of my identity he returned to baiting Aragorn. “Yes, Elessar attended by the scholarly Faramir traveling all this way chasing phantoms. It’s a bit embarrassing for you, really.”

“Duty may often lead us down unpredictable roads.” I answered, hoping to divert Dalfor’s attention from Aragorn. The prince’s amateurish attempts to intimidate my lord were infuriating.

“And the paths of ambition are still less predictable, are they not?” Smirked the prince. I gave the man a withering look. Dalfor assumed that everyone else’s motives were as base as his own.

I was considering my next remark for if the prince were in the mood to taunt it would be better for him to taunt me. Though my lord had given the enemy very little sign of weakness I was very afraid for him. Occasionally he still seemed to sway just a little. The wound on his head needed tending and I constantly worried about whatever the lady had done to his memory. He betrayed no confusion to our enemies but he must be disconcerted. Unfortunately, though he was wounded and perhaps dazed Aragorn still saw it as his responsibility to deal with our captors and shield me as much as possible.

“How fares your royal father?” Aragorn asked. The question appeared to be a non sequitur but the prince blushed deeply. The prince was too clever by half and Aragorn had caught him in his own witticism for Dalfor’s expression made it clear that he was on this expedition without his king’s permission. Had the prince come here seeking power to use against his father or was he simply out on a frolic, indulging a royal taste for adventure? Whatever the case Dalfor did not like being reminded that not only was he not his own master but that he would be punished if his exploit was discovered.

“Do you have what the wizard seeks?” The prince asked angrily. All of evidence of the lazy banter in which he had previously spoken was gone.

“I have told you: we have nothing for you.” Aragorn replied with complete calm.

“I think I can change your answer.” The prince smiled. “Guards, help our guest to his feet.” Aragorn was seized by his upper arms and forced to stand. I struggled against my own guards with increasing urgency. The prince also stood and moved very close to Aragorn. Dalfor whispered in my lord’s ear. I could not hear his words but I imagined. I imagined the prince promising to claim compensation for all the feelings of helplessness and inadequacy that plague the sons of powerful men and the leaders of second rate powers. I imagined Dalfor swearing to redeem every petty insult and slight he had ever endured in terrible acts of violence against a man the entire world recognized as his better.

“What of me?” I asked putting as much challenge and defiance into my voice as I could manage. “Or are you wise enough, princeling, to know better than to try and break me? I would like to know if Harad’s next ruler is as much the cowardly worm as hr was when I met him last.” I taunted desperately.

“Faramir, be silent.” My lord’s voice was as cold as ice without the slightest trace of affection or gentleness. Under normal circumstances it would have broken my heart to hear him speak thus to me but as it was I only shivered a little and silently pleaded that Dalfor would come to me.

The prince turned with a look of startled bemusement on his face. “Trying to curry favor at this late stage, little one? There is no challenge in breaking you. Besides what fool would take a pedantic little nothing like you into his confidence? Obey your lord and hold your tongue in front of your superiors.” The prince answered mockingly before dismissing me from his attention once more.

With great show the prince drew back and raised his fist aiming at Aragorn’s face. Two more men were needed to restrain me as I battled desperately to free myself. Aragorn did not flinch but stood impassively. I started cursing and managed somehow to move a little forward dragging the four Haradrim with me.

“If I might make a suggestion, my lord?” The prince lowered his fist and turned to look at the captain. I instantly fell silent still straining against my guards. The captain looked a little uncomfortable for the prince’s expression was not indulgent but the captain was not one to be silent when the voice of duty spoke within him.

“Gondor is a rich country whereas Harad has seen hard times. It may be that whoever rules in the White City would be willing to pay much for the safe return of their wandering king. Would it not be a fitting reward for Gondor’s arrogance to have to ransom Elessar.” The captain spoke hurriedly as if afraid of losing the prince’s attention if he could not explain quickly.

“Forget local politics!” Berwith interjected. The wizard had thoroughly investigated the contents of our packs by this time and was using his staff to lever himself to his feet. “There is a secret here that if you will but find it will ensure that you will never have to consider such a trivial thing as wealth ever again. Bleeding orc guts, man! Do whatever you have to but make this creature reveal what he knows.”

“My prince, if it were true that the lords Elessar and Faramir had some great power how was it that they were so easily taken? The wizard has spent too long in the fight against Sauron. The world has changed. History is no longer a matter of objects of power but rather it is all ‘local politics’. From what I have heard of Eleassar he will have to be hurt very badly before he will tell you anything. If we ransom him it will humiliate Gondor and enrich Harad but if we torture him. Gondor will seek vengeance. His wife will go to her father and grandmother demanding retribution. He is admired as a hero of the ring war. Harad will be a pariah state with all hands turned against us. And…” Here the captain paused and lowered his voice. “and it is not so good a thing for captured royalty to suffer pain and grievous injury. When a thing has been done once it becomes easier to do it again. People will get ideas. It is better to set no such precedent.”

“Do you think all magic must announce itself with a boom and a flash? There is power here, I swear it. It might be subtle but it is here. If you do not find it, you will not make it back to Harad with your prize.” The wizard’s eyes flashed madly and several of the Haradrim who had been standing near him retreated a few steps.

The prince looked torn. He could follow the captain’s logic but he could not dismiss Berwith’s promises and he wanted very much to hurt Aragorn. “Can you not find whatever it is on your own, wizard? Did you not say you could smell the magic? Once we have it, once we are sure, we can send Elessar back to his white tower in little pieces and we need fear no reprisals.”

“I can sense it but I cannot find its source. This one,” the wizard pointed to Aragorn “has much of the old blood in him and he has much that is elfish about him. His aura pulses with magical energy I cannot identify. His possessions are saturated with it. I cannot isolate the one magic I want from all the rest. This other one,” here the wizard pointed at me “is also of the old blood but more than that Elessar’s aura touches him and shields him. Also the touch of my own magic lies heavy on him and confuses my senses.”

“Do you admit responsibility for interfering with Faramir?” Aragorn’s voice broke into the argument. He spoke quietly but there was something terribly ominous in his tone. Despite the sun’s heat the men holding me trembled slightly as though chilled.

“I could not delay the dream so I delayed the dreamer. My intent was not to hurt him only to keep him from this place.” Berwith closed his mouth with an audible click. Then he shook his head slightly before snarling, “What difference does that make? I tell you Dalfor, kill this one as soon as you learn all that might be learned from him.”

“I will bring this matter before your own council, Istari. Perhaps they shall be able to explain to you what difference it makes.” Aragorn said sternly skewering the wizard with his gaze.

Berwith seemed to shrink a little at Aragorn’s words but Dalfor flew into a rage. “You make threats! Look at you, you are my prisoner. I hold your life in my hands and you threaten my ally. I am in control here, damn you. You are just an arrogant vagabond. I will teach you about the nature of kingship!” The prince’s voice had grown louder and more shrill as he spoke. After he uttered the last syllable Dalfor swung his fist full force into my lord’s unprotected face.

I moved so quickly that I broke free from my guards for just a second. I had nearly closed the distance to the prince when I was brought howling to the ground by my captors. Another few seconds and I would have had my teeth in the bastard’s throat. As it was I lay helpless beneath several Haradrim as Dalfor kicked Aragorn as he lay stunned.

“My prince! My prince, please that is enough. He is unconscious. This serves no purpose.” I could barely hear the captain’s pleas over my threats and curses. Dalfor must have heard, though, for he stopped his assault. Still breathing hard, Dalfor looked down on Aragorn with hatred.

Struggling to regain control over himself the prince finally turned to me. “Don’t be so squeamish.” He said with contempt. “After all it could have been worse, Faramir, it could have been you.” Seeing my expression of hatred and defiance the prince laughed. “Get some water, wake him up. I’m not done yet.”

As one of the onlookers rushed off to obey the prince the captain once again spoke. “My prince, I strongly advise-”

“Shut up!” Dalfor said harshly. Then he took in a deep breath and seeing his captain’s anxious expression he relented a bit. “I won’t do any permanent damage. If we do ransom him do you think he’ll announce to his council or explain to his woman how the Prince of Harad made him scream? None will know save us. Fear not.” Of course the captain had to know that no secret could be kept when known by so many soldiers but he had no choice but to accede to his prince’s will.

While the prince spoke Berwith had gone over to where Aragorn lay
sprawled on the ground. The wizard was going through my lord’s clothing checking for any hidden pocket or concealed object. “Use fire.” The wizard suggested absently as he tugged at Aragorn’s collar. He examined then impatiently discarded the pendant Aragorn wore as a love token from the Lady Arwen. “Saruman always used to say that burning was one of the worst pains any creature could endure.”

I stifled a small moan of anguished panic as I listened to the conversation. I couldn’t let this happen and yet I was helpless. The guards had allowed me to rise as far as my knees and I struggled feebly to move even a little nearer my dear lord but I was held firmly back. Finally, the man who had run off earlier returned carrying a full bucket. The water was thrown into Aragorn’s face and though I begged him to remain safe in unconsciousness he returned to awareness with a small groan.

I had enough time to see the prince smile with sadistic joy before chaos was unleashed. I heard a man on the periphery of the onlookers scream. Then there was the unmistakable sound of arrows flying through the air. The captain had retrieved his shield and had shoved his prince behind him while he shouted for his men to take up a defensive formation around the pavilion. In the confusion my guards had slackened their grip on me. I broke free and stumbled to Aragorn’s half conscious form. My hands were still tightly secured behind me but I was able to kneel astride my lord ready to use my body to shield him from whatever threatened.

I thought I heard the rumble of thunder though the sun shone brightly. Then I realized I was hearing the crash of approaching horses. Someone must have released the picketed Haradrim mounts for I saw unsaddled stallions galloping though the makeshift camp upsetting cook pots and trampling tents amid shrieks of equine terror. A few more arrows flew around me and each one struck an enemy soldier. I thought of Prince Legolas but there had to be more than one archer at work here and from whence came the approaching horses? The sound of metal crashing against metal told me that men were engaged in combat nearby. I hunkered lower over Aragorn and strained against my bonds but I succeeded only in abrading my wrists.

Then, miracle of miracles, I heard cries of ‘Gondor’, ‘Elendil’ and ‘Elessar’. It made no sense. Was this some magic of Gandalf? Was the magician that powerful? Whatever the mystery, my lord was injured and I was unable to defend him against the chaos of panicked men and horses careening about. “To me, Gondor!” I shouted. “To me.”

A soldier approached, his sword was bloody and I prepared to pounce if he showed the least inclination to attack but as he moved closer I saw the outline of the white tree on his surcoat and rejoiced. “Lord Faramir?” Came the careful inquiry.

“Yes,” I answered overcome with relief. “My hands are bound, release me quickly.” The soldier hurried forward shifting his sword to his left hand and drawing a dagger. In a moment my hands were free.

“My lord?” The soldier suddenly sounded ill. I twisted around and saw that the man had come to realize that I was protecting someone lying still on the ground. From the soldier’s horrified expression I was sure he knew or guessed who I was trying to keep safe. “Is he… is he…?” The poor man could not even formulate a proper question. Though I felt profound sympathy with his terrible dread I forced myself to speak with calm authority.

“Stand guard.” I ordered succinctly, taking the dagger from his unresisting hand. The man looked up from Aragorn’s pale bruised face into my eyes. He swallowed hard and then nodded. I bent quickly to my lord and cut the ropes that held him.

As soon as his hands were free Aragorn struggled to lift himself into a sitting position. I was not sure if he should try to rise. The sounds of battle were fading and a few more men of Gondor had come and a loose circle with myself and Aragorn at the center had begun to form. Perhaps it would be better for Aragorn to rest where he was until everything was sorted out and a healer could be found. Whatever my opinion, however, my lord was battling upward and I must either help him or watch him struggle. With a sigh I lent all the aid I could and Aragorn stood up leaning heavily upon my arm.

As soon as we were upright I tried to look around and get my bearings. The battle had apparently ended. The Haradrim were being disarmed and shepherded into the open away from the tents and fires. I was about to ask the young soldier who I had first seen who was in charge here but just as I opened my mouth I heard loud shouting. I turned in the direction of the noise and there was Gandalf coming towards us. My eyes widened in surprise as I saw that the man walking next to the wizard was Lord Everstil.

As soon as Everstil caught sight of Aragorn he increased his pace to a near run. “My lord, my lord!” He called finally coming to an abrupt halt right in front of Aragorn. Alarm spread across the man’s face as he took in the blood and dirt adorning the king.

“Your timing was most fortuitous, my lord.” Aragorn commented drily as he swayed a little despite my best efforts.

Everstil swore and seized Aragorn’s other arm to steady him. By this time we had drawn a crowd of soldiers. I looked out and saw expressions of fear, shock and the first stirring of anger play across the faces. Aragorn must have seen the same thing for he carefully freed himself from Everstil’s support and smiled reassuringly at those gathered around. “Gentlemen-” He began but whatever words he planned to use to allay the grave concerns of his worried subjects were lost as a new disturbance at the periphery of the crowd erupted.

“I could kill you all, but give me what I want and you shall return safely to your homes. Don’t be fools.” Berwith screamed as he swung his staff at the soldiers surrounding him with their swords drawn. The men did not try to close with the wizard but kept a wary distance, though they did not back off. “Do you dare stand between me and my desires! I will show you pain you cannot imagine.”

“What is your quarrel with these men, Berwith.” The soft voice cut cleanly the through the mad ravings. Gandalf the white stood with his staff raised facing his brother Istari. The madness receded marginally from Berwith and he looked upon Gandalf with a nearly lucid gaze. “Are you championing these mortals, my friend? Can I leave such power as I sense here in the hands of these children?” Berwith asked in the manner of one whose trust has been betrayed.

“Surely, these disputes are between the kingdoms of men and are of no concern to us. You cannot challenge the armed might of these soldiers. And you cannot challenge my magic. You have no business here and I cannot answer for what will befall if you remain.” Gandalf still spoke quietly, even sadly.

Berwith looked around expectantly at the men who still surrounded him. The men in turn looked to their leaders. Everstil stood motionless, he did not understand the full import of what was being said but he sensed he had his enemy within his grasp. He was not interested in letting him go. In the end, it was Aragorn who signaled the men to fall back. Gratefully the soldiers withdrew leaving a path so the wizard could leave if he chose.

Berwith drew himself up to his full imposing height. He had an undeniable aura of wisdom and power. He locked eyes with Gandalf and the look he gave his fellow wizard could only be called one of disappointment. “Your name afore time was more apt, Gandalf, for with the departure of Sauron the world has gone grey with compromise.”

With that the wizard turned his back, but he had not taken a step before Aragorn called to him. “Berwith, you may be glad of this new order of compromise ere long, for you and I shall meet again at the council of your brethren. Matters are not yet finished between us.” Aragorn spoke as softly as Gandalf but where Gandalf had spoken more in sorrow than in anger there was no mistaking the hard edge in Aragorn’s tone.

Berwith did not turn but he again addressed Gandalf. “Do you hear, my friend, this mortal means to bring me to account? Well, so be it. I have naught to fear from such a one. I wonder, though, my friend, are you still far sighted enough to see that the same fate may well befall you? When your turn comes and these creatures demand that you answer for your past deeds, how will you fare? I doubt, oh leader of the remaining Istari, that your conscience is as clear as mine.”

Berwith was allowed the last word and it was with great relief that I watched him depart the camp leaning heavily upon his staff. As he left Gandalf muttered quietly: “He is much changed. He was not always, thus. He was once very great and very wise.” No one commented upon Gandalf’s observation but I thought back to what the Haradrim captain had said that the ‘world had changed.’ Perhaps Berwith had become what he was because he had not changed.

Gandalf tore himself from his reverie with an effort and turned to Aragorn. “It looks like you and Faramir have had some grand adventure.” He stated.

“Indeed and I would gladly tell you all about it but I think I must first tend to these injuries. I would be glad of your aid Gandalf for a second pair of eyes and hands would be most helpful.” Aragorn spoke casually and loud enough for all around to hear. Then he started off in the direction of Dalfor’s pavilion, back straight and head held high. Aragorn still clasped my arm and though I could feel slight tremors running through him none of those who gathered to watch could tell just how much he needed my support. Gandalf and Everstil followed close behind us observing carefully.

As soon as the tent flap fell shut on the prince of Harad’s grand pavilion Aragorn stumbled. I reached to steady him but Everstil, who had been walking immediately behind us, reached him first. Ignoring the king’s faint protest Everstil swept him up into his arms. I stepped in front of Everstil and held out my own arms expecting the man to let me carry Aragorn. I felt entitled as though I had the exclusive right to care for my lord. Everstil just stared at me. I suddenly became aware that the king’s champion felt just as entitled as I did and as far as the world knew I had no special rights at all. Besides, Everstil was taller and broader than I and probably would have less difficulty supporting the king. As I considered this Aragorn gave up the pretense of strength and let his eyes flutter closed and his head rest on Everstil’s shoulder. I moved aside quickly, though I remained close by. Everstil carried Aragorn to a large bed strewn with cushions and set him down very gently.

“What has happened here? Did I not say this was all folly? You should never have come to this place. Who knows what might have happened had I been delayed. How can any of this have happened?” Everstil demanded angrily after he had safely set Aragorn down. The man looked very upset and a little lost. He was gazing about the luxurious tent as though seeking something or someone to heap his anger, confusion and frustration upon.

“I will gladly listen to your lecture, my lord. But I beg you to wait until tomorrow to deliver it when I will be better able to appreciate it.” Aragorn said tiredly.

Everstil still looked unhappy but Gandalf began shooing both of us away. “Go order people about or whatever it is you do. You will probably need to set guards on your guards to make sure no harm comes to your prisoners. I’ll tend Aragorn.” I badly wanted to stay and tend to Aragorn myself but I soon found myself pushed to the outside with Everstil.

The king’s champion turned to me still afire with questions: “What in blazes happened, Faramir? I want to know did any of those Southron scum touch him. Tell me everything.” I had no idea where to begin or what to say. How could I even begin to tell him everything? It was all so incredible. I didn’t feel up to answering any questions. All I really wanted to do was to go back inside the tent and make sure my lord would be all right.

Everstil had compassion upon me, though. He took a calming breath and put his large hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Faramir, I wasn’t thinking. Do you need a healer? I have a man who could take a look at you if you like.”

I shook my head ‘no’. I was ashamed that my lord had taken great hurt while I remained relatively uninjured but I needed no healer. My bruises would heal well enough on their own. “If you could spare some rations I’d be grateful.” I said moving to sit by one of the abandoned campfires.

“I’ll see what I can scare up.” Everstil offered. “The wizard is probably right, blast him. I’d best go see that my lads don’t get too rough with the prisoners. Wouldn’t want to cheat the executioner, would we? I’ll be back.” The big man added as he stalked off in the direction where the captured Haradrim huddled.

My thoughts were filled with Aragorn as I sat forlornly waiting for Everstil’s return. I was glad Gandalf was there. The wizard would do all that could be done but I worried. Head wounds were notoriously unpredictable and the lady may have done something terrible that I didn’t even know of yet. I nearly got up to go to the pavilion twice before I convinced myself that I would only be in the way and that it was better to let the wizard work uninterrupted.

After a while Everstil finally returned. He had brought a plate of stew and half a loaf of bread. I thanked him then fell to. I shoveled food into my mouth for several minutes before a thought occurred to me: “Where are Legolas and Gimli?”

“As we attacked a few of the Southron cowards ran without offering battle. The elf and dwarf volunteered to track them down.” Everstil replied. “They should return soon. I doubt they made much of an effort to take prisoners.” Everstil glanced in the direction of the captured Haradrim as if he wished he had not made so much of an effort to take prisoners either.

“But why are you here?” I asked as my curiosity started to reassert itself thanks to the food and the chance to rest. Everstil raised an eyebrow at my inquiry. “Not that I am not pleased to see you, but shouldn’t you be in Minas Tirith?”

“I should be at my king’s side.” Everstil said loyally but evasively. I waited patiently. Finally, the king’s champion continued. “I told him that I absolutely insisted upon collecting some men and accompanying him and there was nothing he could do about it. Elessar just looked at me with that sort of enigmatic expression. You know the one where he is trying to decide if he is amused or annoyed?” I nodded. Everstil often received that look from his king.

“Anyway he said that it was late and that he was leaving very early. And if I caused a panic in the City by mustering soldiers in the dead of night to escort the king on a quick jaunt to Mordor then I would regret it. Well usually I’d be tempted to chance it. After all the worst he could do would be to cut off my head, right? And if the people got wind that Elessar was planning a trip into such dangerous territory they would besiege the castle to stop it. So it would all be in a good cause. But- well you know Faramir, you were there- I did a fair bit of talking and maybe not enough thinking at that council meeting. Elessar had already had some rather harsh things to say on the subject.” Here Everstil fidgeted a little at the uncomfortable memory. I gave him a sympathetic look and nodded for him to continue.

“So I didn’t really want to challenge him just then. Instead I promised that there would be no panic but I would not be deterred from my duty as I understood it. He gave me that look again and said he expected no less from me. The next day he left with you and the wizard and I began collecting men who were good riders and knew how to keep their mouths shut. Oh, in case anyone asks: you and the king and the rest of us have been surveying some of the lands on the outer periphery of the Dark Lord’s former sphere of influence as well as making diplomatic nicety nice with various local chieftains etcetera.” Everstil added gruffly.

“Anyway I left the City two days after you did with about fifty men. Nearly the entire route was just crowded with orcs and those other nasty buggers, you know…”

“Uruk-hai.” I supplied.

“Right, those. We encountered three of them, lucky not at the same time. Damn large monsters. It was almost as though they were on the lookout for a large group of men. I would have expected much less resistence but I could almost believe they were waiting for us. All this fighting delayed us. We were nearly too late. Elessar, must have had some notion that I meant to follow him since the wizard sent Prince Legolas to find us. The elf came across our camp last evening and told us that Elessar was set to walk into a nest of Haradrim and if we wanted to be of any use we needed to get a move on. We’ve been riding since before dawn. Though, why if the Haradrim have been here three days you have only just now encountered them, what that gods damn Haradrim brat thought he was playing at or how my king came to be injured are not questions that I can answer.” Everstil’s voice rose steadily as he spoke the last sentence. At the end, he was grinding his right fist into his left palm cracking his knuckles ominously.

Everstil looked at me pointedly, anticipating that I would return the favor and give him the other half of the story. I wasn’t sure if there was anything I could say to this blunt practical man that would make any sense. I was going to try to give a brief account of the more prosaic happenings, glossing over anything having to do with magic and completely omitting reference to… to anything else when I was saved by the appearance of Legolas and Gimli.

The two friends strode up to us looking purposeful. “Faramir, I am glad to see you well.” The dwarf greeted, pumping my hand with genuine warmth.

“And I you.” I replied smiling. “You came at a most opportune time to save us from the dubious hospitality of Gondor’s neighbor to the south.”

“So I observed.” Legolas said. The elf’s voice was completely without inflection, I wondered what he had seen. Had his eyes been sharp enough to see Dalfor assault Aragorn? If they had been then Dalfor’s life very likely depended upon the elf keeping the information from Everstil and his men. As it was I noticed that Legolas and Gimli had returned without any prisoners and it was highly unlikely that their quarry had escaped them.

“How is Aragorn?” Legolas asked breaking me out of my thoughts.

“Gandalf is looking after him. Perhaps we should go see if we can be of any assistance.” I replied.

Everstil rose eagerly and gave Legolas a polite bow before heading off in the direction of the pavilion. The elf looked at him impassively before following with me and Gimli by his side. There was still a coolness between the two but I had hope that the elf and man would grow to respect one another.

As we walked Legolas addressed me softly: “How are you feeling, Faramir?”

The question surprised me and I gave the conventional answer automatically. “Fine, thank you.” As I thought about it I realized that it was more or less true. “Why do you ask?” I couldn’t help inquiring. The question would have been completely unremarkable coming from most people but the elf prince did not strike me as the sort of person to ask such a question as a mere conversation filler and I was obviously not in any immediate distress.

“You walk more lightly upon the earth, as though some great heaviness has been lifted from you.” Legolas replied with a straight face.

“Oh,” was all I could think to say. Before I could decide if I wanted to pursue the matter further we reached the pavilion.

Everstil pounded insistently against a shield set up by the tent’s entrance with the hilt of his dagger. There came from within a testy sounding response the words of which I could not quite discern. As we stepped into the tent all thought of the elf’s mysterious words fled my mind to be replaced by the sight of my lord sitting up in bed propped up by pillows with a bandage wrapped around his head and a large purple bruise marring his cheek. He looked tired but his eyes no longer shifted in and out of focus as they had done earlier. He had obviously been engaged in conversation with Gandalf. But whatever their talk it had abruptly broken off as the four of us invaded the tent.

Aragorn’s face lit up upon seeing his friends. Warm greeting were exchanged. I looked to Gandalf to see if I could find any sign of Aragonr’s condition on the wizard’s face. Gandalf did not look overly concerned and this relieved my mind much.

“What sort of trouble have you managed to get yourself into without us by your side?” The dwarf said eyeing Aragorn’s bruises.

“Nothing that won’t mend, my friend.” Aragorn answered with a smile.

“Do not be so sure. What would Arwen say if she found out you had lost this?” As Legolas spoke he produced from his tunic the Evenstar pendant.

Aragorn’s hand flew to his throat feeling for the object that was not there. It was clear from his expression that he had no idea how he had been parted from the pendant. After a moment he took the necklace from Legolas saying: “It seems I shall need looking after in my old age.”

I had quite forgotten about the necklace, myself. I surmised that it must have been surreptitiously retrieved by one of the Haradrim after Berwith had thrown it to the side. If Legolas had seen the theft and tracked the perpetrator it was no wonder that the prince and the dwarf had returned without any prisoners. Both elves and dwarves took matters of honor quite seriously.

Gandalf harumphed. “However that may be Aragorn, you will certainly need looking after for the next few days. You must be careful and rest. Someone will need to stay with you. I want to make sure that you don’t forget to drink this lovely delicious tea I’ve made for you.” With these last words Aragorn grimaced and the wizard, dwarf and elf broke into large vengeful smiles. I assumed these expressions alluded to some shared memory of the fellowship of the ring and again I felt like the odd one out.

This time, however, I was not the only one feeling excluded. Everstil had been pacing restlessly since entering the tent. “And who is responsible for the fact that you will need looking after?” The man interjected forcefully.

Aragorn turned his attention to his agitated champion. “Please, my lord stop pacing you are making me dizzy. How are the prisoners?”

Everstil came up to the side of Aragorn’s bed. He very nearly shouldered the slender elf aside before he remembered himself and approached more circumspectly. “They’re scared and their prince is shaking in his royal boots. But you didn’t answer my question.” Aragorn lifted an eyebrow and Everstil added a bit defensively “my lord king.”

“The worst injury cannot be avenged by you, my dear champion. I would urge you not to think upon it.” The king said as his hand reached unconsciously to his forehead where the lady’s power had struck him. “Assuage the prisoners’ concern. Assure them no harm will come to them. Consult with their captain and release those who will go home and cause us no more trouble on this journey. As for the prince I want him treated with all due honor.”

“So you want him hanged at dawn.” Everstil replied. Gimli laughed and the corners of Legolas’ mouth twitched upward.

Aragorn sighed. “No, I don’t. We are going to escort the wayward prince back to Harad and his father.”

“You aren’t just going to let him go! The little brute has committed an act of aggression against Gondor in the persons of you and Faramir. You may not choose to tell me everything but I can bloody well figure out that his intentions towards you were not benign. For the gods’ sake I was told how my men first found you. You were bound and nearly unconscious!” Everstil exclaimed.

“If you have such a care for my well-being then please not so loud.” Aragorn winced. “It will be vengeance enough to take the boy home to his father as the misbehaving child he is. Besides it will be a gesture of good faith. Ultimately we want to be friends with our neighbors.” I doubted very much that if Dalfor ever came to rule that there could be anything but outright war between Gondor and Harad. The king had other sons, though and Dalfor would be disgraced by this escapade.

Everstil looked a bit sullen. “Yes, I suppose so. Among my men, however, the Haradrim are known as a clumsy lot. It’s just possible that some of those we release might have some kind of accident. The kind of accident where a man stumbles and ends up strangled by his own intestines and left out for others to find as a warning not to be so clumsy. You know the kind of accident I speak of. The prince might have such an accident.”

“Then it is fortunate we are here to prevent such mishaps. I mean it, Everstil, if you cannot or will not control your men I will find someone who can. We must be better than that.” Aragorn looked quite fierce and Everstil sadly nodded his understanding.

“Very good, see if you can’t get everything sorted out and we shall be off tomorrow. I w-”

“You are not going anywhere tomorrow, Aragorn.” Gandalf interrupted. “I told you that you need looking after. I want you to have at least a full’s day’s rest, probably more, before you go anywhere.”

Aragorn looked ready to argue but Everstil had crossed his arms over his broad chest ready to back the wizard to the hilt. Gimli and Legolas both wore broad smirks as though they would dearly love for Aragorn to force the issue. I did my best to appear stern and moved closer to Gandalf and Everstil to show my support for their position.

Seeing how matters stood, Aragorn sighed. “Very well, but I do not wish to stay here longer than strictly necessary. Would it be too much of an imposition, Everstil, to ask you to escort the Haradrim back to their home tomorrow and I will return to Gondor as soon as it is permitted?” Aragorn asked his tone deceptively humble.

Everstil considered before answering. “I would be more comfortable, my lord, if I and the full contingent of men remained with you until we have left Mordor. Then, if it is your command, I will take the fewest number of guards consistent with safety to Harad with the prisoners while you return to your people.” Everstil had dropped his confrontational attitude, perhaps sensing that the king’s patience was finally wearing thin. Aragorn nodded and Everstil, taking this as a dismissal, bowed and left the tent to start choosing which of the prisoners could be released.

“If you are so intent upon leaving soon then I suppose we should leave you to rest.” Legolas said, though there was a twinkle in his eye that suggested he was not quite ready to leave off teasing his friend.

“You forget, master elf,” Gimli put in with an answering twinkle in his own eye, “this man cannot be trusted to take care of himself. The wizard said it himself someone more responsible will have to see he comes to no more harm.”

“I will stay.” I said rather more eagerly than was completely consistent with dignity.

“Don’t look at me.” Gandalf said. “I have played nurse-maid to enough hobbits in my time that I should be relieved of any future obligation to tend the helpless.” “I will stay.” I repeated insistently.

“I suppose we could draw straws.” Legolas suggested.

“Let me stay.” I begged.

“That would be the fair way, I suppose.” Gimli answered the elf.

“I will stay!” I announced trying to sound authoritative and trying to ignore the slightly puzzled look I saw on my lord’s face as though he were trying to recall some elusive thought.

“Damn it, Faramir.” Gimli snarled. “This was our chance to get a little of our own back and you go and ruin it.”

“It’s probably just as well, master dwarf. He really does need rest.” Gandalf said resignedly.

Legolas smiled a little at the dwarf’s near pout then took Aragorn’s hand. “Recover quickly, Estel.” The dwarf followed the elf from the pavilion after patting Aragorn’s shoulder and glowering one last time at me.

Gandalf quickly showed me the herbs he wanted Aragorn to drink every couple of hours, made sure I could tie a bandage the way he thought most proper and gave strict orders that I should summon him if Aragorn’s condition changed in any way. “Don’t be afraid to let him sleep, Faramir. The tea will keep him from slipping into a death-slumber. Make sure he eats slowly. The prince’s pantry is well-stocked and there is stew heating on the coals. I shall see that none disturb you.” The wizard concluded before slipping from the tent. Aragorn had listened to Gandalf’s lecture with a vaguely pained expression. I thought several times he was about to object to being discussed as though he were not present or as though he knew nothing about how to care for himself but he kept quiet while I listened attentively.

“Thank you for your intervention, Faramir. Those three could have been at it for hours.” Aragorn said once the wizard had departed.

I smiled nervously. I had wanted this, to be alone with my lord but now I felt all my confidence desert me. I wasn’t sure what to do. In my uncertainty I began tidying the tent. It relieved my anxiety to be putting things in order and perhaps I could work my way over to Aragorn and… and casually adjust the covers or examine the bandage or something that involved being near him. I bit my lip, ashamed of my petty plotting. I should really be trying to think of a way to tell him I loved him and never mind the nonsense.

“Was it… did everything go well, Faramir? I can’t remember. I have been trying but… I did not truly believe she could do it. I thought somehow my mind would resist her but it did not. I have no memory of the third day. There is simply nothing there.” Aragorn spoke very quietly and tears pricked at my eyes when I heard the distress in his voice when he admitted that the lady had stolen something which should always be safely beyond anyone’s reach. “All went well.” I said lamely, desperately trying to organize my thoughts so I could tell him what had happened between us on that day.

“I know, the first two days, they were particularly hard on you. The lady seemed to delight in hurting you especially. You were very brave, but I could tell. She did not… hurt you further, did she?” I had never heard Aragorn sound so unsure, so tentative.

I could not speak. He cared, he really did. The memory of the lady’s tormenting voice exposing my secrets and shattering my wounded soul into shards of pain and humiliation haunted me but that did not effect me as much as the knowledge that Aragorn’s greatest concern was that I had been hurt and that he was unable to even remember how or if there was any way for him to help. I wanted to launch myself into his arms both to give comfort and receive it. “She did hurt me but you healed me.” I said my voice thick.

Aragorn heard my words and the tension in his face eased for just a second then his face hardened into fierce resolve. He was so terribly tired. I moved to him then. I wanted to help him, love him, serve him, but all I did was worry him. “Tell me, tell me what that creature did to you, Faramir.” He demanded struggling to sit up on his own without the cushions.

I sighed. I couldn’t put him through this, not now. If I just blurted out ‘I love you’ then he would wonder why I said it. He might have to decide if he loved me or if he should say. He was too exhausted to have to deal with me and my onerous devotion. “Have you spoken to Gandalf about the lady and the tests, my lord.” I asked trying to change the subject so that he could relax a little.

He looked as though he were about to ignore my question and press forward with his own when he stopped and smiled kindly at me. “I have told Gandalf only what I thought he had a need to know, that we were asked difficult question, given dreams of our desires and that we refused arcane powers.” I wondered what that meant and then it occurred to me that Aragorn thought I was asking if he had told Gandalf my answer to the lady’s question. I blushed. I trusted him to use whatever information I had revealed in any way he thought best. I was not a child worried that he had shared my secrets.

“What did he make of it all?” I asked.

“He believes that it is now certain that all things magical will abandon middle-earth and that men will proceed alone.” Aragorn answered.

“Wasn’t that to be the way of things regardless?” I asked surprised.

“Not necessarily. If we had accepted the lady’s gifts there would have been an anchor for magic of all kinds. The elves would have had something to cling to. There would have been a role for wizards. That is over now. The ring has been destroyed and nothing has come to take its place. Without a dark lord the lady of light will not remain with us for long. The cycles and symmetry of history that have persisted throughout the ages have been broken. Are you disappointed, Faramir? Was it wrong to sever ties to the supernatural?” Aragorn did not sound regretful only curious to know what I thought.

I thought of the exhilaration and purpose, power and meaning that seemed so often associated with the ring war and its mystical talisman. It would be a pity to lose that, the splendor and beauty of the elves and the knowledge that one’s enemies were truly evil, bent on creating suffering for its own sake. It was one thing to fight orcs and uruk-hai it was another to fight someone more or less like yourself who wanted more land so he could sleep secure at night or more money so he could provide for his family. But then orcs were once elves and perhaps war always made each side altogether too smug. Now that I thought of it were the elves really so perfect. Were they not flawed by their ignorance of death and the cruel side of nature? Unlike men, though, who were constantly forced to face the consequences of their own limitations Elves were spared the responsibility of their flaws. My brother had been a good man, one of the very best, but he had not fit neatly into the too simple categories of good and evil that magic had divided the world into.

Men had their own magic, different than Galadriel, Sauron, Gandalf or the Lady, their own exhilaration and purpose, power and beauty. My troops, alone on the borders of Gondor fighting bandits, the occasional orc and the weather without any elfish spells or magical staff had possessed a certain magic. Mothers helping their children take a first step or fathers teaching their children to saddle a horse, that too was magic. When Aragorn had called me from the shadow that had been a human magic, subtler, less breathtaking than rings of power but real and meaningful nonetheless. I thought about what could be done in a world of human magic that had never been done in the world of elves and dark lords. We could make of the wide world a City where the laws did not play favorites and all were welcome to make of themselves what they could and forge their own understanding of what was good. There was so much potential and it was all magical.

“I think there is enough magic in the hearts of men without the lady’s tricks and props.” I finally answered hoping I did not sound like the starry eyed fool my father had sometimes thought me.

“It may be so.” Was all Aragorn permitted himself to say but I saw the smile in his eyes and the hope in his voice as he said it.

We looked at each other for a long moment and I think we were both lost in the possibility of the future. Eventually, my lord was brought out of his reverie by what seemed to me a sudden attack of dizziness. He brought his hand to his head and leaned back against the cushions. I started towards him. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry.” He said as he waved me away with his other hand. “Would you please bring me another cup of Gandalf’s wretched tea, sweetheart?”

I turned to obey but turned back as I heard Aragorn’s breath catch. He looked chagrined. “My apologies, Prince of Ithilien. I must be more tired than I realized.” He said as a faint pinkish glow was added to the blue and purple on his bruised face.

What was he talking about? I tried to replay the last few minutes of conversation in my head. A light dawned and I set about fixing the tea quickly to hide my smile. He had called me ‘sweetheart’. I had grown spoiled in the lady’s prison. His endearments had become like air to me only noticed when absent. I tried to calm my rapidly beating heart. I should not read more into a simple slip of the tongue than was warranted. After all, Aragorn had always been liberal- in a paternal sort of way- with words of friendship and affection. But still, perhaps some part of him remembered yesterday.

I brought the tea to him without comment. I would tell him. I would. I would just let him rest a little first. “You should sleep, Aragorn.” I said. Taking the now empty cup. I thought myself very bold to use his name but it would probably do some good to show him that I was comfortable with greater intimacy between us. He smiled up at me and nodded before settling deeper into the large bed and closing his eyes. I stood watching until his breath evened out and I was certain he slept.

I considered finding a spare blanket and lying down across the tent’s threshold to keep guard, but I did not want to sleep so close to my lord yet apart from him. It would be a torture I was not sure I could endure. Besides, I wanted this opportunity to go through Dalfor’s papers. There might well be useful information buried in the pile of loose documents cluttering the desk. I had a great deal of work ahead of me.

I woke to someone gently shaking my shoulder. As awareness slowly returned I realized that I was slumped over the writing desk in Dalfor’s pavilion and Aragorn was softly calling my name. From the sounds of insects I guessed it must be the middle of the night. I had a crick in my neck and there was drying sand from the documents stuck to my face where I had rested it against the papers. A lamp was illuminating the tent, Aragorn must have lit it for I had not and the candle I had been reading by had burnt out.

“My lord, you should be asleep.” I said my tongue still slow with sleep.

“I have slept enough for the time being. Besides, you should be in bed.” Aragorn responded, as he began putting together a meal from the food available. “Rather than hunched over someone else’s correspondence. Are you hungry?”

I rubbed my face and struggled to my feet. “Yes, but you should let me take care of this.” I said as I went over to him holding out my hand for the bread knife he was using.

Aragorn looked at me for a moment before surrendering the knife. “You look unhappy, Faramir. Why is that?” My lord asked me as I took over the meal preparation.

I froze. My brain was still fogged with sleep. I should gather my faculties before trying to answer that question. “Because I am a coward and I cannot tell you something that I need to tell you.” I blurted out. I cringed inwardly. I should retreat and make a better start later.

“Do you fear me, Faramir? I swear it has never been my intent but have I ever treated you cruelly?” Aragorn asked quietly.

“No, my lord.” Was all I could manage.

There was silence for a long time and then I just started speaking. I had no idea what I was going to say until I heard the words come out of my mouth. “It’s not that I am afraid of you, not exactly. I just want you to think well of me so much that it is like fear.” I brought a plate of stew to Aragorn with bread and raspberry preserves. I took a few bites of my own bread and jam without even really thinking about what I was doing. I stuffed the morsels into my mouth to keep myself from reaching for Aragorn. I knew that the food would do nothing for the emptiness inside of me but I needed at least the illusion that I was filling the aching hollowness. “You are so kind to me and I tell myself that that is just the way you are. That it doesn’t mean anything. Or maybe just maybe it does mean something but if you really knew what I was like you would no longer be kind or let me be near you. So I must be careful to make sure you never find out about all the ugliness inside of me because if you sent me away it would be like the end of the world.”

I took another bite of bread swallowing hard, swallowing the lump in my throat and the rising tide of fear along with my food. “I love you. I love you so much.” I took a long breath, fighting desperately for control of my rampaging emotions. “On the third day we spent in the lady’s prison you said… you said you loved me too and for the first time I no longer felt broken inside. But now I am just so scared that it wasn’t real, that it wasn’t true.” I was having to concentrate to breathe. My vision was a little blurry and though I tried to focus I could not make out my lord’s expression.

And then it was all over. I was being held in strong arms. My breath came easily and my heart no longer threatened to burst from my chest. “Oh Faramir, oh my angel. Of course, I love you. You never have to hide anything from me.” The affection, the love was clear in Aragorn’s voice. I draped my arms around his neck and hung limply. I lost myself in the heat of Aragorn’s body and the smell of his skin but as I pressed my face closer I encountered cold. I flinched away. It was the Evenstar’s pendant. I adjusted myself against him slightly and was again enveloped in perfect warmth. It was going to be all right, I thought in wonder. It was going to be all right.

As the panic fled away I clung more tightly to Aragorn. He was holding me and petting my hair as he whispered my name over and over. Strength flooded through me. I tipped my head upward and kissed Aragorn deeply, passionately trying to communicate all my burning desire for him in the pressure of my mouth on his. My lord’s eyes widened in surprise and though he did not pull back he did not respond either.

I broke the kiss feeling my face flush. Had I made a terrible mistake? Had I misunderstood what I was being told. He had said he loved me, yes, but there were many kinds of love in the world. What if he meant he loved me like a friend or a brother or, gods help me, a son. I certainly acted enough like a child when I was with him I thought bitterly.

“That was not the first time, was it, Faramir?” Aragorn asked. “We have kissed like that before.”

“Yes, my lord.” I breathed. Had some memory had been sparked?

“Tell me what happened on that third day or as much as you feel you can. I need to know.”

Aragorn led me over to the bed and sat down pulling me down with him. He put his arms around me and I leaned into him. I could do this. It would be all right. If he would just hold me then I could do anything.

I talked a long time. When I told Aragorn that the lady had revealed all my fantasies and lovesick imaginings about him, he cursed her. I could feel the rage burning in him. I smoothed his hair and told him that all was well until he was calm again. I marveled at his anger on my behalf. He held me tightly and told me never to be ashamed of anything I thought or felt. It was the lady who was wrong. He said it over and over until I was smiling at his insistence and nodding my agreement.

I could not bring myself to reveal the details of our lovemaking. I could not speak but in the most general terms but as I spoke I pressed very soft kisses to his neck and shoulder, hoping to communicate some of the tenderness and love that were behind my words. Again, though, the queen’s necklace seemed almost to put itself in the path of my kisses. It was strange for I did not remember even being aware of the pendant while we were in the lady’s prison but now the small crystal seemed to be everywhere, coming between us.

I continued to speak of the events of the third day ending with our rejection of the lady’s offered gifts and her parting words to me. Aragorn was lost in thought and for a while I was content to lean quietly against him. Finally, I summoned my courage and said: “I am sorry she stole your memories. It was a horrible thing to do.” It was hopelessly inadequate especially after all the comfort he had given me but Aragorn did not even seem to notice the banality of my words.

“We shall have to defeat her, Faramir, by making new memories.” Aragorn said in a whisper. Then he kissed me and it was a kiss of passion and desire. I kissed back tasting raspberry jam, healing herbs and Aragorn. We had been separated by something greater than time or distance but now we were together again and my soul was starved for him. The first kiss had melted into a second and then a third. I allowed my lips and tongue to roam from his mouth. Feeling the rough texture of his beard triggered something fierce and passionate within me and I began kissing with greater force until I felt Aragorn wince against me. I drew back and saw again the bruises that marked his beautiful face. I reached out a hand to tenderly touch the swollen flesh but Aragorn caught my wrist. He brought it to his mouth and sucked and nipped at the flesh between my thumb and forefinger. I shuddered as all the blood seemed to race to my groin.

I was on him again in a moment. Trying to avoid his injuries I licked at his ears and lay wet sucking kisses down his neck. When I reached his collarbone I meant to measure its length with my tongue but along with the warm slightly salty taste of his heated skin I also tasted cold metal. I was nearly in tears as I retreated once more from lady Arwen’s necklace. I wanted to ignore the thing but I couldn’t. We were no longer shielded from the world in the lady’s prison. My lord had a beautiful wife whom he loved. That fact would not go away no matter how much I wanted it to. Could I be anything more than an occasional diversion for him? And though I thought I could accept receiving only the scraps and leftovers of his affection Aragorn was a noble man. Would he not grow to hate himself for his dalliance with me? “What is the matter, beloved?” Aragorn asked peering into my face.

“What of the queen, your majesty?” I asked miserably. Aragorn recoiled slightly whether because of the mention of the of lady Arwen or because I had used more formality than he could tolerate hearing from someone he had just been kissing I could not say. I was grateful for his retreat, however, the nearer he was the harder it became to do anything but find a way to get even closer.

“What of Éowyn, lord prince?” He asked in a tone of gentle inquiry.

“Éowyn loves us both and is loved in turn. She would be happy if we were happy.” I answered. Éowyn was not the issue. I felt certain my wife would not only understand but approve. It was difficult to say exactly why but I thought that the love between myself and Aragorn could somehow bind the three of us all the more tightly together. I wondered if I had always been subconsciously jealous of the special relationship of trust and affection that existed between my lord and my wife and that jealousy had negatively affected my perceptions. But all this speculation was beside the point. Éowyn was not the obstacle.

“And it is different for Arwen?” The question took me by surprise. Of course, it was different for lady Arwen. The difference was the difference between Aragorn and Faramir which was to say all the difference in the world.

Aragorn looked into my uncomprehending face and moved forward a little to stroke my cheek. “Arwen knows I love you, Faramir. She knew even before I realized it myself. What is more, she is very fond of you. I think she could grow to love you if you would give her the chance.”

“She knows?” I was stunned. “How come she has not yet poisoned my food?” I wondered aloud. Aragorn laughed but it had not been entirely a jest.

“Listen to me, Faramir. Has Arwen ever said or done anything to make you think she found you objectionable?”

“No.” I murmured. And then suddenly everything seemed to click into place like a random pattern that suddenly resolves itself into a picture. For what seemed like months now the queen had been making cryptic comments to me that were now no longer cryptic. Lately Éowyn had been joining in. I had thought they had been speaking of Leonin but perhaps they had been talking about me. Had Éowyn and Arwen spoken together about me and my love for Aragorn? How could I have been so oblivious? “I thought she meant… Did she really know?” I was overwhelmed.

“When we return home we shall talk to the ladies. Everything will be all right but I don’t want there to be misunderstandings, secrets or mistrust between those I love, Faramir.”

I nodded. It would not be easy to face the queen, but my lord was right. The time for secrets was over. I moved forward eager to touch Aragorn again and feel his touch in return. I very much wanted to explore that wonderful little hollow at the base of his throat. I started by moving my tongue down across his Adam’s apple. Aragorn moaned softly and squeezed my shoulders. I moved a little lower and Aragorn raised his head to give me more room. His movement, however, brought the chain once more between us. I was determined not to let it bother me, though. So I moved away from his throat and moved down to suckle against the dark brown nipple that quickly hardened under my hungry mouth.

With a small groan Aragorn pushed me gently back from him. I looked up at him questioningly. He took my hand and brought it to his chest, to where the Evenstar pendant lay. “It’s all right, sweetheart.” He said as I trembled a little. Then he placed my hand over the pendant and held it there. It was no longer cold as I remembered it being. In fact, it was quite warm. It was such a little thing. It seemed impossible that this could have been an obstacle between us. The crystal somehow magnified the feel of my lord’s beating heart. It was an astonishing thing really, a symbol of eternal love. I moved my thumb along the smooth surface. I realized there was nothing here to keep me from Aragorn. I did not need to fear or avoid the delicate pendant I only needed to respect its meaning.

“You know, Faramir, that my father died when I was very young.” Aragorn said as my expression changed from trepidation to understanding as it finally came to me that the queen was truly not a rival but a friend. “Of course, Elrond did his best for me. In retrospect, I can see that he has always loved me very much but Elrond was never… demonstrative. Since I was a child I have always wanted a family. Now I want you to be a part of my family, Faramir.”

This was so much more than I ever expected. This surpassed all my dreams and imaginings. My mouth worked but no sound came out. After a moment I gave up trying to speak and simply hurled myself at Aragorn. “I love you.” I finally managed after I had said everything that could be communicated to another by pressing lips to lips.

“I love you, too.” Aragorn said as he ran his hands up and down my back.

Smiling invitingly I lay back on the bed. I did not quite trust the attractive power of my smile, however, so I also kept a firm grasp on Aragorn’s arms to make sure that he would come down with me. For the space of one deep kiss my beloved lord allowed his full weight to rest on top of me. I moaned into his mouth as his body covered mine completely. Then Aragorn sat up straddling my hips and moving his hands up under my shirt to caress my chest and belly. My own hands wandered over the long thighs pinning my hips to the bed. I explored the steel of Aragorn’s muscles through the thin fabric of his trousers. Gods he was so beautiful to see, to touch, to taste.

“This would be easier without so much clothing between us, dear-heart.” Aragorn said in husky whisper.

I quite agreed. Though Aragorn was wearing only a pair of loose fitting trousers I had not intended to go to sleep and was still completely dressed. With my eager assent Aragorn began working on my shirt and tunic. He would raise my shirt just enough to reveal a narrow band of flesh. Then he would stop to caress with fingers and tongue the newly liberated area before pushing the shirt up another inch and starting over again. I moaned quietly as he made his way slowly up my body. With my desperate urging Aragorn finished divesting me of my top layers. I sighed blissfully as the garments were finally tossed aside and Aragorn leaned down to kiss me while his wonderful hands flowed all over my bare torso.

I decided to help with the undressing by kicking off my boots. As I struggled, though, to remove them without dislodging Aragorn from atop me I found that my twisting and wriggling was bringing my hardening penis into thrilling contact with Aragorn’s own erection. I forgot the boots, only one of which had I managed to get rid of, and concentrated on writhing and rubbing against my beloved Aragorn. My lord responded by grinding his hips hard against mine and thrusting his tongue deep into my mouth. I tangled my hands in his hair pulling him closer, inviting even deeper contact.

When we finally broke apart to breathe Aragorn moved backward so that he sat astride my thighs rather than my hips. I moaned a little at the loss of the glorious yet achingly insufficient contact with my shaft. Aragorn took my shoulders and lifted me up into an embrace. My arms wrapped around him automatically and I let my head rest against his shoulder. I noticed that the chain on the queen’s pendant lay beneath my cheek but I was no longer troubled by the necklace and a moment later I forgot about its presence.

“So often, in Minas Tirith, I would see you and it would take all my self-control not to toss you over my shoulder and carry you off somewhere we could be alone.” Aragorn breathed into my ear.

“You would not have heard me complain.” I said trying to scoot a little forward so that our bodies could be even closer.

“Ah, but my darling, you never complain and the absence of complaint is not the same thing as consent. Though, I wanted you so badly I was afraid I would forget that.” Aragorn answered stroking my back from my shoulders down to the swell of my buttocks. I groaned and arched my back.

I summoned the remnants of my will-power to divert some of my concentration from his hands to his words. How could Aragorn ever doubt that I wanted whatever he wanted? How could he believe that I could ever object to his touch? It made no sense. Surely my desire for him was obvious, it permeated my entire being.

Or perhaps it was not so obvious. Under Denethor’s relentless eye, which I always believed to be just as penetrating as Sauron’s, I had learned to hide my thoughts, feelings and emotions deep within myself. Often it was useless and my father knew or guessed whatever I most wanted to conceal. Thus, I have always believed myself to be transparent. My thoughts were my own only so long as they did not hold any interest for Denethor. This habit of secrecy, however, had not died with my father. It was just possible that what happened in my mind was truly not apparent to others. Aragorn might actually need to be told what I wanted. He might want to be told.

“What if- in Minas Tirith- I had asked you to take me away somewhere we could be alone?” I murmured softly.

“Then you would have found out how fast a northern ranger can evade all pursuers when he has found a great prize he does not wish to share.” Aragorn replied as his fingers transformed the muscles of my lower back into liquid pleasure.

For a moment my mind abandoned me as Aragorn allowed a hand to lightly squeeze my erection through the confines of my trousers. I might have called out more loudly than would have been wise given our surroundings if Aragorn had not also sealed his lips over mine muffling my shout. As soon as thought returned to me I reached to take Aragorn’s straining shaft in a firm grasp. The feel of the heated steel against my palm only fueled my already burning hunger. This time, though, it was Aragorn’s cry that was lost in a kiss. Had he not been sitting on my legs, I think I would have taken him into my mouth right then, trousers and all. I needed to feel the rigid unyielding heat of him pushing hard against me, inside of me.

“What if I were to ask you to make love to me?” I said breathlessly.

The question caused him to stop stroking up and down the length of my shaft for just a moment. Soon though, he renewed his motions and he leaned forward to lick my ear. Then he whispered so that his breath teased the wet skin: “If you asked that, my Faramir, then I would proceed to fulfil a great wish of my heart.”

“Make love to me, Aragorn, please.” I was almost panting. Beneath my hand I felt Aragorn’s penis jump like a conscious thing.

The next moment I was lying on my back again. Beginning at the top of my forehead Aragorn kissed a line down the center of my body until he reached the top of my trousers my hands joined with his as I helped to push the offending material down past my hips. Finally freed my erection sprang up demanding attention. Smiling, Aragorn circled his thumb around the tip. My hands spasmed into fists and I jerked my hips upward. Pleased with my reaction Aragorn finished removing my trousers as well as discarding my one remaining boot before removing his own clothes.

Now that we were both naked Aragorn returned his attention to my aching penis. The pleasure was nearly intolerable as his gentle caresses became increasingly firm. I was quickly losing control. “Please!” I begged, flopping over onto my belly and giving him what I hoped was a winsome look. Aragorn made a low throaty noise that sounded to me like a hungry lion. He gripped my shoulders fiercely and kissed the back of my neck with bruising force.

“Wait just a moment, angel-heart, just a moment.” He said and I felt his sharp teeth graze my skin. I took a deep breath and tried to remember that I was supposed to relax for what was coming. I heard the sound of rummaging as Aragorn went through the medicines and herbs Gandalf had shown me earlier. Then I heard a muffled curse and the tinkling sound of glass breaking. I sat up suddenly. I should have been less demanding of my injured lord. I had detected no sign of any weakness but that meant nothing. He should be resting. At that moment Aragorn returned to me carrying an earthenware jar.

“How do you feel?” I asked concerned as he sat down on the bed. He raised an eyebrow at me suggestively but I was determined to see that he did not aggravate his injuries. “Does your head hurt at all? Do you feel the least bit dizzy?” I demanded gently caressing the unbruised portions of his face.

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry. I was just a little clumsy in my eagerness to get back to you, my Faramir.” Aragorn reassured me.

I let him soothe me and soon I was lying down once more. I tried to turn onto my stomach again but Aragorn’s hand on my hip stopped me. I waited curiously while Aragorn put his arm under my knees and lifted. Then he kissed the tops of my bent knees and nudged them gently apart. Understanding I moved my legs further apart to give him easier access to my hidden opening. Smiling Aragorn dipped his fingers into the jar and moved one slick finger up and down between my buttocks. My eyes drifted closed at the extremely intimate touch and I let my breath out in a murmur of anticipation. I did not keep my eyes closed for long, however. In this position I was able to see Aragorn’s face as he touched me. Watching him at the same time as his fingers circled around the tight muscles guarding my entrance was indescribable.

With one hand Aragorn stroked my thighs and belly, the muscle quivering under his touch. With the other hand he probed gently at the cleft of my buttocks. Then with a gentle but insistent motion a single finger delved into me. I gasped and twitched against the sheets. Letting his finger dart in and out of my body Aragorn leaned forward and rested his head against my stomach, while his bearded cheek rubbed against the flat surface. The gesture was strangely comforting. Tenderly I caressed his face and hair automatically I relaxed so he could have a soft resting place for his head. The tension that had been building in me in anticipation of the glorious yet still slightly frightening experience of having Aragorn inside me was dissipating even as another finger was added to the first.

Soon three fingers moved within me and I could receive them easily. I moaned helplessly as Aragorn crooked his fingers slightly stretching my opening and pushing a little deeper. How could he stand to be so patient. “Please.” I managed to gasp as I tried to keep myself from thrashing about in reaction to the exquisite sensation. Aragorn’s gaze met mine. Simply seeing him as he did such wonderful things to my body was a pleasure all in itself.

“I don’t want to hurt you, my angel. The more you relax and let me do this the easier it will be.” Aragorn said, leaning down to kiss me. I clutched at his shoulder desperately. I was as relaxed as a man who was being pushed inch by inch into all-consuming blood burning passion could possibly be.

“Won’t… hurt… please… now.” Though I seemed to have had lost the power to construct complete sentences my experience of the night before- had it been such a short time ago- made me feel like I could speak with the authority of an expert.

Aragorn studied my face for just a moment before withdrawing from me. Heaving a sigh of barely suppressed lust Aragorn turned to the jar of oil. I propped myself up on my elbows to watch as Aragorn rubbed the oil onto the glistening hardness of his shaft. Under the calloused hands the already enlarged organ seemed to grow even bigger. My eyes were wide and my mouth was dry with longing. In a moment Aragorn was back, kneeling between my knees. I lowered myself back down onto the bed as Aragorn brought my legs up to rest on his shoulders.

I watched my lord’s face as I felt the first gentle nudge of exploration and then a quick sharp thrust accompanied by the intense but short lived pain. I looked upon him with all the adoration of a lovesick adolescent as he took me. In his stormy eyes I saw flashing a fierce protective as well as a possessive intensity. But also hidden in the grey depths I discerned a simple and innate gentleness. I felt claimed, protected, possessed, loved.

I could not keep my legs perched atop Aragorn’s shoulders. So as he moved deeper inside me I let my legs move to encircle his waist. This position was slightly more awkward than when I had rested my weight on my knees and forearms but this way I could see his face. Once he buried himself completely within me he came forward to kiss me. I was complete, full, with Aragorn within me: kissing me and making love to me.

Eventually the kiss broke but my mourning was cut off as Aragorn began to move. I bit my lip to keep from calling out. He moved slowly until the initial pain had faded into the background to be replaced by a pleasure made all the more keen by the preceding pain. When I could tolerate the slow pace no longer I pushed my hips upward urging him to strike harder. The rhythm Aragorn finally established was just enough to keep me poised teetering on the brink of ecstacy without quite pushing me over.

I felt so close to the edge that I feared that if Aragorn even looked hard at my weeping shaft as it bounced between us that it would send me plummeting into orgasm. Yet, Aragorn was able to grasp my achingly hard member without sending me into unconsciousness. I looked up at him imploringly as he moved above me. Increasing his pace fractionally he began stroking me in synchrony. I flung my fist into my mouth biting down hard as hot semen erupted from me and I felt the world disappear in a mind obliterating release. I was not so lost, however, that I missed the searing explosion of heat inside me as Aragorn reached his own climax. Though my awareness was hazy I felt Aragorn lower himself exhausted on top of me. My arms came up around him and we lay together breathing heavily.

“I love you.” Aragorn said as he disengaged from me and moved to lie on his side.

“I love you, too” I answered, delivering a clumsy but heartfelt kiss to my lord’s chin. Still reeling from our recent lovemaking, I studied Aragorn through heavy lidded eyes. His hair was damp with sweat, the bandage around his forehead had come partially undone and I was certain that his cheek was more swollen than it had been before becoming the victim of my enthusiastic affection but a deep satisfaction shone in the grey eyes. Sighing contentedly, I turned towards him seeking out his warmth for just a moment more before I sat up and started gently removing the bandage covering his forehead.

“Leave that, sweetheart. It will keep until morning.” Aragorn said as I tried to coax him onto his back so that I could more easily examine the results of the lady’s attack.

“It won’t take but a moment. I don’t want to be the cause of any delay in your recovery. Let me do this, my lord. Besides, despite their teasing if Gandalf, Legolas and Gimli thought that I had been negligent in my care of you then I would have to face the combined ire of a wizard, an elf and a dwarf.” I said appealing to his sense of mercy.

Reluctantly Aragorn suffered me to bring him a cup of Gandalf’s healing tea, bathe his bruises with soothing herbs and fasten a fresh bandage around his injured forehead. My legs were a little wobbly as I set about my various tasks. A fact which thanks to the dim lighting in the tent I managed to conceal from Aragorn.

When I had finished tending my lord’s various injuries I started returning all the herbs and medicines to their proper places. Aragorn had left the jar he had broken in his search earlier that night on the table and the rest of the healing supplies were all disordered. Automatically I began straightening the jumble.

“Faramir.”

“My lord?” I asked looking up.

“Come to bed.” Smiling, I abandoned the still disorganized medicines. As I drew near to Aragorn, however, my eyes flicked reluctantly to my discarded trousers and the spare blankets folded neatly on one of the chests.

“Come here, sweetheart.” Neither the endearment nor the sleepiness that graced Aragorn’s voice could entirely disguise the note of command.

Obediently I scrambled into the large bed. Aragorn’s strong arms drew me close. Even as I was enveloped in the blissful nearness of my beloved Aragorn I summoned every last shred of my willpower. “Shouldn’t I… What if someone were to-”

“Sh.” Aragorn breathed, kissing the back of my neck as I nestled even more snugly against him. “The only one who would enter unannounced is Gandalf and if he is disquieted then perhaps he will come to learn the courtesy of knocking.”

I thought about that for a moment. Then I giggled.

I was quickly losing myself to the languor of sleep. Contentment permeated through me. I took one of Aragorn’s hands from where it lay against my hip and kissed it tenderly, reverently.

“Aragorn?” I asked softly.

“Mm, ‘heart?”

“I love you.” As I spoke his arms tightened around me. “I love you and… and I am very happy.”

-End

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