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Unexpected Blessings (NC-17) Print

Written by Nissi

14 November 2006 | 18644 words

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Chapter 7: Milestones

Faramir woke alone in his bed, naked and curled on his side. He could almost feel Boromir’s presence lingering, the warmth of his bare skin pressed tightly against Faramir’s back. Faramir did not mind that Boromir was absent; he knew that it was not the last he’d see of the apparition.

He rode back to Emyn Arnen accompanied by Legolas, an undeniable lift to his spirits—beyond what Legolas had inspired in him during their subtle courtship. When they stopped to water their horses, Legolas broached the subject.

“You seem happier than usual, my friend. It is good to see,” the elf smiled.

“I am happier than usual,” Faramir agreed. “Truly happy. Something unusual and unexplainable happened last night…”

Legolas arched a brow. “What occurred?”

Although they were alone among the lush hills beside the river, Faramir still leaned in and lowered his voice. “Boromir visited me,” he admitted excitedly.

“Had you too much to drink?” Legolas questioned skeptically. He tried not to look as crestfallen as he felt. He had hoped that Faramir’s happiness was somehow because of him.

“No,” Faramir shook his head. “I was sober. It was…real, Legolas, and I don’t know how. It simply was. I think that perhaps it was starting that night with the statue, but last night it was uninterrupted and came to fruition. It was no dream.”

Legolas looked thoughtful, training his eyes upon the ground. “I cannot say that I have heard of such events before, but I do not doubt you. I am glad for your joy.” His tone betrayed that the gladness was laced with a measure of disappointment.

Faramir reached out and cupped his friend’s chin, lifting his face to gaze into his blue eyes, which perfectly matched the cloudless sky. “He gave me permission,” Faramir whispered.

“Permission? Permission for what?” Legolas queried, his heart beating faster at the mere contact with Faramir’s hand, and Faramir’s eyes.

“Permission to do this,” Faramir said lowly as his lips fell upon Legolas’s, boldly kissing him. He slid his hand to the back of the elf’s head, holding him near as he moved his lips in little circles upon his friend’s.

At length he parted, leaving a stunned Legolas staring unbelieving at him. He lifted his fingers to his wet lips and touched them gently. They felt swollen and tingled slightly.

“Was that wrong of me, Legolas?” Faramir frowned at the elf’s reaction. “Was I incorrect about your feelings?”

Legolas merely continued to stare, as if unable to find his voice to speak. Finally his wits returned and he answered Faramir resolutely by pulling him closer and kissing him passionately in return. He silently thanked Boromir for the leave he’d given his husband to do this; to care for him and express his care in such an obvious, intimate way.

It had happened. Despite his assertions that it took many years for elves to fall in love, Legolas realized he was one of the few elves to have taken to another quickly. Arwen was right. Legolas had fallen for Faramir.


Shy of three seasons came and went. Legolas split his time between staying with Faramir in his home, and governing his people in their territory elsewhere in Ithilien. The two shared much, loving each other freely, though in deference to Legolas’s virginity and the slow pace with which the elf found comfort in their physical contact they had not experienced intimacy beyond kisses, caresses, and the occasional enjoyment of oral pleasure. Faramir patiently taught Legolas the ways of sensual touch, showing his friend what pleased him, and learning what pleased Legolas in return.

The wait for deeper intimacy was not a strain upon Faramir, for Boromir visited him frequently. The older man gave to Faramir everything he’d promised he would when he fantasized about life as Steward. Faramir read Boromir poetry, walked with him in the gardens, taught him basic conversation in foreign languages, engaged him in rousing and significant conversation, and spent many blessed intimate moments as married couples do. They made love often and well, taking every opportunity to be close to each other.

Faramir never knew if his experiences with Boromir were madness or some supernatural phenomenon. It didn’t matter. He had progressively emptied his house of servants and guards, constructing dwellings for them elsewhere beyond sight and sound of the property. He allowed himself privacy to be with Legolas, and privacy to be with Boromir. The arrangement worked well for all three.

Legolas knew that Faramir continued to experience the mysterious visits from his dead husband, and he was not given to jealousy. He was genuinely happy for Faramir’s enjoyment of life again. For so long the prince had been lost in grief and self-imposed torment. It uplifted the elf to observe the pleasant changes in Faramir. He was grateful for Faramir’s content, as it allowed them to explore each other and the budding romance between them.

One day there was an unexpected visit to Faramir’s home by two riders from Rohan, bearing a sealed envelope containing a missive from Éowyn. Faramir had not thought to hear from her again, and there was some dread inside him as he tried to imagine what the contents of the letter could be. When the riders had departed Faramir retired to his bed chamber to read the letter in total solitude. The servants were dismissed for the night. Legolas was at his elven home, so Faramir faced the reveal alone.

He sat upon his bed, precisely as he had when he read Éowyn’s goodbye note, and unsealed the letter:

Faramir,

I am writing to inform you that I have bore you a son. At the time of this letter he is one week of age. He is a perfectly healthy boy. He resides with me in Edoras and here he shall remain. I cannot return to Gondor, for reasons that are clear to you, so I shall raise our son as a Rohan. He will know of his Gondorian ancestry, and of his parentage, but it is your choice whether or not he will ever know your presence.

You are welcomed to visit him in Edoras, but do not expect to find my love. I will never withhold our son from you, but I will never see him as evidence of any true bond between us. I have written those words with no bitterness. I am grateful to you for gifting him to me. He is a blessing, Faramir. All of Rohan rejoices at his arrival. The birth of a Rohirric prince has not occurred in many years. Should Éomer remain childless our son will take the throne of Rohan upon Éomer’s and my demise. You can take pride that he lies in the line of kings.

It is difficult to tell at this early stage, but I believe him to look quite like you. Already downy tufts of red hair appear upon his head. He is a gentle child. He cries infrequently and sleeps in surprising peace. I believe that it is your temperament—the temperament you possessed before the grief of loss and the aftermath of war filled your heart.

It is my sincerest hope that you fare better now than you did when last we met.

Éowyn, daughter of Theodwyn, shieldmaiden of Rohan

Postscript: His name is Elboron.

By the time he had finished reading Faramir’s hand shook so violently he could barely see the words. A son. Elboron. Faramir could not process the thought.

He had never expected to have a child, and with his marriage to Boromir he had relinquished any such desire. It failed to occur to him that coupling with Éowyn could result in the conception of a child. It struck him ironic that Elboron was conceived during the final time he acquiesced to Éowyn’s request of intimacy, and that Faramir had spent the bulk of the encounter imagining he was being pleasured by Boromir. In a way, the brothers now possessed a son.

When he regained enough control to stand Faramir rushed to the stable, saddled his horse and galloped away from his home. He rode for Legolas’s dwelling, the letter crumpled in his saddle bag.

He would need the elf’s counsel. He did not know if it would be beneficial for Elboron to have contact with him. Even though Elboron would become Steward of Gondor upon Faramir’s death, he knew that remaining in Rohan was the right course for his son. Faramir was ill-prepared to be a father.


Faramir paced to and fro nervously in Legolas’s chamber as the elf read Éowyn’s letter. Legolas’s blue eyes widened beyond a size Faramir had ever seen them before. Legolas placed the letter aside and seemed to be searching for words.

“Faramir,” he began. “This is such mixed news.”

“Aye,” Faramir replied, switching from pacing to wringing his hands. “What do I do, Legolas? Do I go to my son? My son…so strange a phrase to me.”

Legolas tilted his head thoughtfully. “I think you will regret it if you do not make an effort to take part in the child’s life. You will ever know there is a boy in Rohan who knows not his father, and who will assume responsibilities—namely the stewardship, however much the position has been reduced in importance—without knowing anything of their nature or significance. Elboron will be poorer without your influence, Faramir, even if far removed and infrequently felt.”

Faramir sighed deeply. “You are the voice of reason, Legolas, and yet I cannot help but wish you had absolved me of this responsibility,” he said, including a small sheepish grin.

“I would if I could, dear one,” Legolas stepped to Faramir’s side and brushed his hair away from his face. “I do not wish you any more conflict than you have already experienced in your life. But I think conflict can be avoided if you simply resolve to meet your child, and to do what you can to play some part in his life.”

Faramir took hold of Legolas’s hand and kissed the back of it sweetly. “You are right. And as much as I feel unprepared to be a father, there is some allure in having a child. Some part of me will go on long after I have left this world. Legolas…” Faramir looked to the elf with a blend of adoration and sadness.

“What is it, Faramir?” Legolas asked with concern, sliding his arm around Faramir’s waist.

“I am mortal. I will die, and you will not. Come with me and meet my son. I want you to know him, Legolas. I want you to be part of his life so that when I am gone you will feel my presence through him. He will benefit from your friendship and counsel, as I have,” Faramir said with deep emotion. “Ride with me to Rohan.”

Legolas rested his head on Faramir’s shoulder. “I would be honored, Faramir. I will relish the opportunity to keep you in my life beyond your mortal years.” Legolas did not often think of the fact that someday he would be parted from the man. He preferred not to dwell on what the future would bring, but revel in the happiness the present provided.

Faramir brightened and reached up to stroke Legolas’s long blonde hair. “Thank you. We will leave in the morning, and take this challenge head on.”

“I would go anywhere with you, do anything you wish, and give you whatever you need. You scarcely had to ask,” Legolas kissed Faramir’s neck.

Faramir wrapped his arms around the elf and pulled him around to face him fully. He swiftly unfastened Legolas’s elegant tunic and slid it away from his chest. Faramir’s fingers moved to explore the ivory flesh revealed to him. “So soft,” he marveled. “So supple. Perfection.” There were times when Faramir felt terribly self-conscious beside the gorgeous, graceful creature, and this became one such time. He shifted on his feet and blushed.

Legolas fingered the hem of Faramir’s comparatively plain tunic before sliding his hands up the front and along his lover’s chest. He felt the tufts of chest hair beneath his palms. Legolas had no such hair. His smoothness was uninterrupted. Legolas found Faramir’s anatomy curious and delightful. It was so distinct from his own.

“You are perfection, Faramir. It is only that you do not see it,” Legolas replied appreciatively.

“Boromir often says a very similar thing, and always has,” Faramir responded with a smile. “He believes in me, and his faith never waned throughout our lives. Your belief reminds me much of his. I will never be able to express to you how dear it is to me.”

Legolas brought his lips to Faramir’s and kissed him softly. “If you cannot express it in words, express it in deed,” he whispered. “Make love to me, Faramir.”

Faramir’s mouth opened in surprise and he pulled away just enough to search the elf’s face. “But Legolas…are you certain?”

Legolas nodded slowly. “It is time,” he said simply. In truth he was nervous, but he knew that Faramir was experienced in such things. He knew that Faramir would introduce him to the act gently and with tremendous patience.

Faramir’s entire body came alive with excitement. Making love to Legolas was an incredibly enticing idea. With Legolas he felt dominant—he was the teacher, the leader, the guide—and it was so unlike his feeling with Boromir. His husband inspired delightful submissiveness, the desire to give himself wholly to Boromir’s desires; to offer to his brother his body the way Legolas now offered himself to him. Faramir would give Boromir his very soul if it was asked of him, and he did not doubt that Legolas would do the same.

The pace of Faramir’s breath quickened. “I will make love to you,” he whispered in return. He took Legolas in his arms and kissed him passionately, setting into motion events that marked a milestone in the elf’s life, and a milestone in their relationship. With Legolas he did not need to think of Boromir to find pleasure. Boromir’s blessing gave him the freedom to enjoy the elf’s innocent caresses, passionate kisses, and profound offering.

Faramir left no part of Legolas untouched in his effort to make the experience good for his lover. He brought Legolas to unparalleled orgasm while he gently moved within him, utilizing everything he had learned of lovemaking from his giving husband. When he could stand the intensity of the sensations no further Faramir relinquished himself to his own climax, filling Legolas with his seed.

Afterwards they lay in Legolas’s bed, which only seemed to see use when Faramir was visiting. They held and stroked each other, murmuring tender statements of affection. When Faramir drifted to peaceful sleep Legolas gladly remained close, watching him as he had done for countless quiet hours over the course of their relationship. He could feel the stretch of his body where Faramir had occupied him. It had been an unforgettable coupling, a memory he would cherish forever.

But Legolas was not beyond the need for sleep, as strange as elvish sleeping habits were. He felt warm and safe in Faramir’s presence—as safe as he had felt in the Mirkwood or in the watchful presence of the Fellowship, allowing him to settle his mind sufficiently to welcome restfulness. He closed his eyes and nestled his curves into Faramir’s. Together the lovers slept deeply and peacefully until morning’s light.

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