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26 April 2013 | 7383 words | Work in Progress
The chaos Faramir is put through when his King demands his best qualities as both handsome man and loyal steward.
Will he decide to stand up against his king for his own good? Or does someone else need to step in?
The rain poured down in all over Gondor that night. The sunshine after the war and the joy and festivities had been well used. When the rain had used to bring a dark wave of fear, it now brought only wetness and annoyance to the people, which some smiled at as they knew peace was finally theirs.
Faramir barely noticed as he was focused on scrolls and papers on his desk in front of the window high up in the citadel. The fog and rain blocked the usual view of the pelennor fields, and the small brown curtains hung piecefully and friendly at the sides, perceiving its troubled master.
The steward took a deep breath and sighed while rubbing his forehead. He thought it would give him some relief so he could go on, but it reminded him of how tired he actually was. He surrendered to lean on his arm while closing his eyes, trying to lower the tight shoulders by breathing.
He could feel the hour of the unexpected visits from his king closing in, and it uneased him. His ears tricked him to hear the steps of his determined king getting closer. The door opened in his imagination and the fear struck him and made not only his shoulders tight, but all his body as well. He started to tremble and his legs numbed. He closed his eyes once again and focused on his breath.
‘Please, no. Not tonight. I can’t take no more.’
He sat listening to the sounds he did not want to hear.
As he had repeated the sequence four times in his mind and prayed it would not come true, the feeling vanished and he was happily surprised; the door had not opened and he was not being forced onto the bed and humiliated by his king’s lusts.
He blinked and swallowed. His body loosened and he let his cheeks twitch to a minimum smile.
He sighed in ease and stood up to face the room with a turn. It was true; he was not being grabbed by his hair and the king did not kiss him hard and passionately. He walked over to the bed and leaned on the pole. The sheets were cold and hidden by a soft big blanket with beautiful patterns.
He dared to smile again.
It was a big bed rooming two loving couples, Faramir imagined.
Then Aragorn haunted his mind and the body tightened once more remembering the pain coming along with the king’s presence. He listened once again after sounds from the hall. He wondered why his king had not come tonight. He used to come to his place on such occasions. He’d feared it all day. He’d seen it on Aragorn all day, that when finally nightfall would come, he would need his steward’s best uses, as he called it.
But he had not come.
Faramir was shocked that he actually stood missing the king rather than celebrating with a few extra minutes of work, in peace.
He clasped a hand at his head and shook himself out of the absurd thoughts.
He hurried over to sit by the desk to finish.
When the door opened, he quickly tenced and grey eyes widened with fear.
He did not dare to turn and look as he was not yet sure if his mind played with him or if the sound actually had come for real this time, which he prayed and prayed it had not, but the foul truth came to him when a dark voice sounded.
“Missed me?” The door closed and was locked.
The fear numbed poor Faramir and although he wanted to break the red feather in his hand of anger, the fear made him weak.
Faramir knew the procedure, but somehow the king would always be a step ahead of him. No wonder.
He couldn’t even tighten his fist. He paled even further when a gentle hand slid from his shoulder and down his chest.
Faramir strained to a whisper.
He had to greet him. Keep the formalities as long as possible.
Aragorn slid his steward’s hair away to see the neck and just when Faramir swallowed, he bent down to kiss him softly.
Faramir made just to hide a whimper and his back tightened further.
Aragorn purred and made his steward close his eyes.
“Done with your duties, Faramir?”
Faramir made to open his eyes to look down at his papers after a breathtaking kiss upon his neck, and saw he had only three signatures left.
“I need more time.”
He said, hoping the king would loose interest and perhaps get the hint.
Aragorn understood what Faramir tried to say. He straightened his back and slid his hand from the chest up to the shoulder again.
“Be done with it.”
He said in a darker tone and grasped his steward’s shoulder in a warning.
Faramir did not look forward to what could occur when the third signature was written.
He barely whispered again.
The proud and frightened steward slid the paper closer and with a trembling hand he dipped the feather in red ink.
Because of the wavering, as he was afraid to make the signature uneven, a drop of ink fell onto the light brown paper and made a fine circle.
He damned it and started to write in a hurry. The red letters ended halfway, and the scraping of feather against paper without any ink subduing it made the young man tremble even more. He was always so neat with his work and only the king made him falter.
Aragorn narrowed his lips and looked down at his steward when he heard the strained shaking breath. Faramir fought not to lose it.
The steward wanted to keep his dignity both outside the citadel and inside of himself. He’d never done his paperwork badly and he had not yet subdued to the king’s demand freely. He had always fought when Aragorn had grabbed him for the duty he had not agreed to.
He missed Boromir and Denethor so much. He would spent hundred years in the same room as his father rather than this.
“You seem distressed, my young steward.”
Aragorn started to massage his shoulders and somehow it wasn’t as bad as he thought it be. He hoped the broken friendship to return.
“I am worn…and if I could only do this and get to bed…I would be more than happy.”
Aragorn kept rubbing so the white shirt of his steward wrinkled in a way he adored.
“Of course. I see it is only three left, but skip the third. I do not want any deals on that. Go on.”
Faramir tried once again, still trembling. The signature did not turn out his best. In fact it looked like a child had written it.
He tried to avoid the King’s arms. It was no use, Aragorn started to caress him even further and bent down again to kiss him on the cheek and neck.
Faramir’s breath uneased as Aragorn kept on. The warmth of those kisses from the body which had woken him up from the dark made his emotions mix in a whirl of confusion.
While time spent, he went further and further by undressing him and lowering his hands on the shaking body. Faramir, with clenched teeth and trembling confused body, fought his way to end all the peperwork.
Aragorn had made to unbutton the shirt and make a red flush on his face when he finally and quickly rose out of the King’s grasp and skipped a few steps away.
“Please, stop this!”
He looked at him pleadingly to let him be and wanted to close the shirt again, but as he saw the annoyed and stern gaze from his King when he straightened up, he was prevented from moving. His chest was bare and the two remaining buttons below tempted Aragorn.
When Aragorn came towards him, Faramir tried to speak, but was not aloud to while being grabbed by the older man forcefully. He surrendered when pinned down on the bed, but still begged him to let go.
The shirt was ripped off and tossed on the floor and the lean bright back pleased the king far more than any other man had done. Faramir’s hands had tried to push himself up and away from the bed, but now the stronger ranger had grabbed his right arm and pressed it to his back.
“Be still and it will not hurt as much, you know this. I have told you.”
Faramir’s legs were spread as the King placed himself between them to prevent him from kicking loose.
“Please, Aragorn. Let me serve you, but not like this!”
“I know you actually want it. I have seen you fight far better, Faramir. So be still.”
Faramir lay still trying to make up his mind. Should he give it all to the fight?
When Aragorn let go of the arm to finally remove the rest of the clothing, Faramir found his strength and courage. He pushed himself out of the bed, and when he was grabbed once again by his king and the weight of him got him back down, he screamed.
Aragorn laughed when having him under control again.
“Come on, Faramir. Is this what you can do? Now I know you yearn for rough sex.”
Faramir screamed again as Aragorn hurt him.
“Either you can fight your way free or taunt me with these games of yours.”
“Please, Aragorn. You are my king…”
Aragorn massaged the intended entrance with oil and made his steward moan and raise his voice.
“I do not want to harm you…”
Aragorn remebered the struck face on his steward when he’d hit his king quite hard in the face in one of their fights where he’d immediately surrendered and begged for forgiveness, but it did not save him from any pain as he’d already angered the keen man.
Bittersweet pleasure filled him as Aragorn pushed two fingers in and out of him in a way he’d not done before. Perhaps because he’d not fought as badly this time.
When Aragorn stretched for more oil to his own shaft, Faramir caught up with his breath.
“I do want to serve you, but please; not like this! Please, listen.”
Aragorn was nowhere to end what he knew was to be conquered. Only a few times more, and Faramir would subdue to his every wish.
Aragorn pressed into Faramir for the fourth time in his life and made him scream. A bit lower this time as he’d become somewhat used to it.
Faramir tried to escape by dragging himself forward, but Aragorn used the move to jolt harder inside of him and he was given back a growl from his steward who clenched his teeth not to scream.
When being fucked by his king like this and realizing he was not getting out of it now or in the future, Faramir lost the will to fight and the painful thrusts made him scream and sob in agony and frustration.
Aragorn pictured all the other times when his little steward had looked upon him with pride and admire. Faramir’s suffering were ignored and excused the entire time.
All Faramir could do was breath, scream and moan while grasping the thick blanket.
The steward of Gondor had been given the day off and had placed a pillow on his chair for comfort on his aching butt when reading one of his favourite books.
A hand was placed carefully on his shoulder.
“You don’t look too good, my Lord. Shall I bring you something?”
Faramir declined the librarion’s offer gently and watched him wander off to the shelves after bowing to his lord.
They had come to know each others company as comfortable, as he’d spent alot of time in there his whole life. He’d been one of those who’d dared to berate the steward’s sons. Which made the old man wonder why he spent more time in there than necessary. And now more often.
The huge windows shielded them from the heavy rain, and the fog was thick.
“Quite a storm outside.” Faramir said somewhat surprised and wondering as a wave of rain was tossed on one of the big windows.
“Oh, it’s been going on for some time.”
The Libarian said while placing his arms at his sides while perceiving the storm only a few meters from him. Then he laughed teasingly; “Where were you last night? When it was at it’s worst.”
Faramir couldn’t help but throw his gaze down again at his book while a tiny blush hit his cheeks. A lump in his tummy made him uncomfortable, followed by a stinging pain in his behind.
“Have you hurt your back, my lord? Wouldn’t it be more comfortable in a couch?”
A dark and unfriendly gaze from Faramir up to the nagging librarian made him silent. He bowed in acceptance and left the room all to his moody steward and could swear he would become like his father going on with this behaviour.
Faramir stared in front of him in dark hatred for a while before the stress caught him and he clasped the book shut before tossing it across the library in frustrated anger. He calmed when the stinging pain made him wince.
He started to lose himself. He wasn’t like this. He didn’t give someone a bad enough gaze to scare them off, and he certantly did not toss books around like that.
He took a deep breath to collect himself and sighed in pain while standing. When walking over to collect the book, Arwen entered with a caring and worried expression.
She stood silent like the air while perceiving the pained man while he walked, bent and wobbled to a shelf when the pain was too great to stand on own legs. His whole body ached and it wasn’t until he was on his way back he saw the statue of a gueen in the end of the room.
He ignored the weariness and pain to salute her and bow with his book to his side.
He knew the elves were almost impossible to keep secrets from and feared he could ruin the entire kingdom if she knew what business he and the king were at.
She had a loving glare at him with serious lips who greeted him when she came closer.
“If you’re you looking for a book I could help…”
He pictured himself trying to hide the pain while climbing latters, and gained other thoughts.
“…or if you were just looking around I’ll be at my leave.”
His stress could be revealed to even a human at this point.
“Or perhaps I could do you another favor?”
“No thank you, dear Faramir.”
She had never called him by his name before like this.
The tender and friendly gaze of Faramir was blurred by pain and confusion when he looked at her.
Their bodies were frozen like a painting with the woman strong and firm and the man tilting and weak trying to remain strong. Eyes melting together in a silent conversation for a few seconds before Faramir understood she knew and sought to comfort him. He shook his head and stepped back in surprise. When he spoke the spell were off.
“I did not want for you to know. I’m sorry…”
“My husband has revealed this side of him which I never thought possible for him to hold.”
Faramir’s throat tightened and his hand ached to caress her.
“He hurt you?”
Her deep and ancient eyes drifted him away for a while when her voice woke him up.
“He has not hurt me in a way you fear. He has only made a burst in my heart for what he does to you.”
He breathed slowly knowing his planned lies would not do and spoke beaten.
“I want to tell you the king does not hurt me. For I am to do his will. I risk my life in war and battle for him, why not the rest?”
This question he asked for real as he had not dared to think otherwise.
Arwen shook her head slowly with her marble pink skin, and red lips spoke.
“This is not the way. The people are made fools thinking great of their king the way he is now. That is not the kingdom I nor my father foresaw.”
Faramir took a deep shaking breath before asking again.
“Then what do you suggest we do? He is king no matter what.”
Faramir worried when the dark haired beauty plotted a plan on the floor with her eyes, and when her dark purple eyes met his bright grey, his instincts wanted to shut her up as she was plotting against his king. It feared him, but he calmed hearing her answer.
“I will come up with something. I need more time. I know it is cruel of me, dear Faramir, but can you stand to wait?”
“Wait for what?”
The elf shook her head and sighed at the man.
“All of this he does to you and still you care for his well being. You are truly a man of honor…which should have been treated thereafter and have his right place in this kingdom.”
She turned swiftly like a wind, but stopped when Faramir called and stretched out without daring to touch her.
He did not continue until she turned only her head and met his eyes.
“What do you intend to do?” He kept on.
“Don’t worry, Faramir.”
She said warningly with love.
“Don’t call me that, my lady!” Faramir said in panic.
Her stern gaze whipped him.
“I’m, sorry. I just…”
She nodded in understanding and gave him a strong determined gaze before leaving with the grace and strenght of the valar.
“Arwen…” Faramir whispered. And he knew she heard.
Several days and weeks had past where Faramir had been kept busy as usual, but with more work outside the citadel, which he gladly did as the gazes from his king had been harder, or perhaps it was his imagination, but nonetheless he was frightened.
He’d been berated by his king for his nervous features as people from the counsil had asked Aragorn whether he worked his steward to hard and perhaps could lay of him a little.
Faramir strived with feelings if he liked it or not that perhaps Arwen had something to do with his growing freedom. Did she say or do something that made the king stop? was she alright?
Aragorn had visited him once or twice, but never implied anything sexual or threatening. Only the eyes followed him like a snake.
A careful knock was made on the queens door and the elf turned from her book to call the late visitor in.
Faramir entered with a shy smile and nodded shortly while closing the door silently. Even though the king was away he had been as silent as a mouse walking through the castle.
He stepped back as she came forth and lowered his head. He named her politely by her title nervously.
She cupped his cheek and made him look her in the eyes. The elf barely held back a smile when he blushed and couldn’t stop his breath from trembling. He caught his breath when her beautiful and gentle face glistened with ancient care.
“You do not need to worry, dear Faramir. He is gone and will not know of this visit.”
Faramir made to hide the growing worry when she let go of him and walked over to a big cosy chair beside a small stone table. That excact thing worried him; they were alone and more secrets could fasten themselves upon his shoulders.
On the other side of the queen there was a same chair which she hinted Faramir to sit on.
He pictured Aragorn sitting there occationly and hesitated on his way over.
He finally did sit down and looked at the queen.
“Forgive me for not having this conversation sooner, dear Faramir…”
The expectant man felt the usual chill whenever she called him by name.
“…both of you have had so much to do and I have tread very carefully not to tilt Aragorn in the wrong direction.”
“What do you mean tilt? What…?” He shifted on the chair trying to climb the ladder of authority.
“I am not sure if I like or agree to this, my lady.”
A cunning and cute smile pressed its way on to the graceful face and she blinked before speaking.
“Whether you like my interference or not doesn’t matter.”
Faramir looked insulted at his queen, but then they both had to smile ironicly at how both queen and king had been telling this to their steward on many occations, though he was the one they should listen to.
She looked at him more seriously and spoke with care, making the steward turn to his worried usual.
“I have made to keep him from you for so long, but I fear he will seek you out soon and I do not know for how long I can keep you out of the city.”
She saw the steward pale and drop his eyes at the table while thinking hard. She saw his brows tighten the way whenever he thought of something unpleasant and his lip twitched.
“I do not want you to do this battle for me.” He straightened up while speaking honorably and brave.
“I appreciate the help, but now I must speak to him.”
She looked at him with pity and sorrow and shook her head.
“He will not let you-”
“Someone must suffer for others’ pleasure. I do not want to ruin this kingdom for my own- I can’t…”
Faramir shook his head while refusing to stand against his king.
Arwen stood up and walked a few steps with her back against Faramir.
“I mean…what can we do, Arwen?”
She turned quickly and frightened the man. Who didn’t dare look at her and turned insecure again.
“I’m sorry. My lady, please.” He stood up and met her gaze with care. “I just don’t want anyone else to be dragged down in this with me.”
“You do indeed love your king.”
He closed his lips and lowered his gaze in defeat.
“Yes, I do love him. But I never thought…”
Arwen studied him for a while before breaking the silence.
“What do you want then, Faramir?”
The man turned away in the slightest chagrin and strived to hide it when speaking.
“Why do you call me by name, my lady? Whenever you do…I feel-”
Two hands cupped his crossed arms and a warm chill run through him when she hugged him.
The safety was frightening and he gently pulled out, and when the steward turned to face his queen, he was surprised he dared not to. Instead he stared hard on the floor trying to settle on words flowing his mind.
When she suddenly spoke he met her purple dark eyes. They had been dark blue earlier.
“Faramir or not, man or woman, ally or enemy, what Aragorn does to you is wrong. I will not have such actions whilst I live.”
The man had learned that when it came to sex among elves, it was something far more than humans would ever know.
Faramir had seen lord Elrond once, and now he saw she was daughter of the great elven lord.
Faramir nodded solemnly, though frightened; she looked at him with such pity and care.
“He will be back in about a week. Come to me when you have decided. Faramir, dear. Think about what I’ve said.”
The elf said. And the steward accepted with a twitch on his chin of an attempted smile.
A few days had past and a calm late night in the citadel Faramir used to wander in peace. He had just placed a book back into the huge library shelf when noticing a book he’d been looking for in years and smiled as he pulled it out.
“There you are.”
He mumbled to himself and forgot the insecurity he had felt since the king had returned earlier and he’d not gotten to speak to the queen as his thoughts had not settled and work was piling.
He had not forgotten Arwen’s words: “He will soon seek you out.” But now he forgot that he was in Gondor and sat down with the book in front of him.
A few lit torches were the only light, but it was good enough and it made the room dim and cosy.
In the winter there were placed more blankets and pillows around in the citadel, so he placed himself comfortably with a blanket covering his thighs and a pillow steadying the lean back.
He spent little time in his private chambers since the king had returned and somehow sitting in the library with a locked door seemed safe enough to make him relax.
Someone determined and long legged marched through the citadel in the dark.
Faramir shot his gaze up when the handle to the library were pressed down and released.
Faramir tenced and made ready to run if the door would open. He kept his breath in prayer it would not be him, but when the handle was brought down again more forcefully, he jumped and the chair bumped into the shelf behind and he grasped the book in one hand and the blanket in the other for comfort when stumbling back on to the shelf. His shocked stare fastened to the door. The truth was he had nowhere to go.
He heard keys being chosen, but it wasn’t until it actually got into the lock that he ran to the back of the room and hid in the most far off corner where there was no light.
‘No, please. I should have listened to Arwen. Arwen! My queen, please!”
He embraced the blanket and book while the door opened and he could hear by the footsteps it was Aragorn.
He barely made to stand, and pressed the trembling and shaking body to the cold stonewall.
‘Please don’t let him find me. Oh, dear Valar please make him leave. I want to be alone. If I could just stop trembling! Please don’t come here!’
He tried to keep the breath even and clasped the book to keep him from making a noise.
He hoped Aragorn left by the door shutting, but his hopes were crushed when he heard the door being locked from the inside and the boots of his king came closer and closer.
By this Faramir knew he’d been caught. ‘No, please I don’t want to. Please, let him be merciful as I have made him angry.’
Aragorn turned up at the last shelf and Faramir could see him staring at him. After a tormenting while with numb limbs, Faramir was the first to speak.
“You know why I hide.”
“Yes, you like to taunt me.”
“No! I yearn for peace. I don’t want you to touch me. Let me be.”
“Now come on, you’re like a cornered rabbit. Get out of there and act like the man I know you are.”
“You destroyed the man I was.”
The king was tired of talking and stepped a long step towards his target. Faramir made to toss the book at him for a distraction to run away, but didn’t get far before the taller man grabbed him and lunged him on to one of the longer tables.
Again he numbed by fear, both of pain and not wanting to hurt his king, and with hands pulled backwards by the brutal man, it was not much he could do but yell and beg.
“No! Please, Aragorn. Let us talk this through.”
His shirt was almost off and he called in a last hope.
“I love you, please don’t do this!”
Aragorn ingored him and kept on undressing them both while having one thing on his determined mind.
He tried a last jerk for freedom and screamed “No! Listen!”
A hard pinch in the arm made him silent after a whimper of defeat.
Suddenly a piercing and yet low and warm voice made them both jump and freeze. Especially the king. For it was his queen who had spoken.
“I’d listen if I were you, Aragorn!”
She’d always called him Esthel, but not now.
When letting go of Faramir he understood why she hadn’t. He stepped back and stood proud and firm while gazing wantingly at his steward who turned and leaned on the table while taking in shaking breaths with eyes warily on his King.
The door was closed and she stood strong and gracefully on the other side of the room while perceiving them both. Her husband with hate and disappointment and Faramir with care and pity.
When Faramir saw the ruling couple eye one another, he straightened up and put his shirt firmly back to place.
The couple started talking. The elf gently at first.
“I see now that you are not the man I thought you were. How could you do this?”
“You do not understand this, my lady. This is between men, and men only. You do not need to fret-”
“I fret on whatever I find fitting!”
Aragorn raised his chin in annoyance and looked skeemingly at Faramir.
The loyal steward knew his king demanded him to go on with his excuse and plan.
Faramir wanted to run over to his queen for safety, but didn’t dare to go against his king’s will.
He began, but already then, Aragorn knew the two of them had been skeeming together and stepped forward to grab Faramir’s shoulder.
Faramir lunged himself away from his king and stumbled to the queen. She placed a reassuring hand on his back and checked him alright before she stopped the jolting king with her piercing purple lightning gaze.
Aragorn gave them both a dark gaze.
“You have gone behind my back. I will have you for this, Faramir.”
Faramir shook his head, but then Arwen stepped forward.
“Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You are to stop these insults against your steward or else you will face trials.”
“What insults? I am merely keeping my lonely steward with royal company. But i see now that he makes it fine by himself to find company.”
Aragorn dared skeemingly.
A darker purple gaze from Arwen shook the air along with her voice.
“Stop this madness. You know far too well what I speak of. It will come to an end.”
Faramir did not know what to say, but managed to utter truth to his king.
“Please, my lord believe me when I say I have not gone behind your back. I haven’t in any way. You know I wouldn’t.”
For once both queen and king listened to the distressed man.
“Though I must say that you dishonor your wife, your queen…”
The king darkened his gaze, but this was truth, and it was up to the steward to inform his king.
Faramir had never been this frightened before. He did not know what was to happen to him, to Aragorn or the beloved elf after this.
“…your way with…”
But he trusted the system and the country’s laws.
Before the king could berate Faramir, or Arwen make peace between the now tence fighting men, the steward continued:
“I want to serve you, that I have said and promised. I am yours!”
A small smile from the king pressed on. Arwen did not like it, but let Faramir explain further.
“But these actions are not royal. And a king most of all should act royal.”
Faramir remembered his father when he’d berated his youngest son, and he felt pride when copying his father’s words.”
“A royal, especially a king, shall follow all laws and etiquets. The law involving the relationship between king and steward goes as followed: The steward shall guide and serve his king truthfully with all his might, where the king shall listen and respect his steward though he does not need to follow the given advice-”
“And where does this lead you, dear Faramir?”
Aragorn laughed and said.
“You keep telling me that I can-”
Faramir interrupted him with a bark.
“If you let me finish, my lord!”
Arwen smiled at this steward she’d not seen before, but it saddened her heart when she saw that Faramir had fought with his king many times before. And she’d heard Faramir’s begging this time when Aragorn had attacked him.
“The king does not need to follow his steward’s advice or do what he asks, but when we look at the king’s responsibility to make sure all of his people, and especially his royal allies are comfortable, he is to follow that no matter what. And I can assure you, my lord, I am not comfortable with the actions you are putting me through.”
Even Arwen was thrilled to hear what the king would say to this.
The man in front didn’t think Faramir had the courage to stand up to him like this, but he managed to make Faramir’s knees numb and counterattacked him by the emberrassment he knew he’d feel.
“I thought you liked it the way you alway tease me and scream when I make you come.”
Arwen’s anger grew by every image Aragorn revealed to her.
It had only happened once when the king had told him the most wonderful things and he’d actually made him believe he cared for and loved him, though after a hard fuck from behind. It pained Faramir the naivety he’d shown and he had trouble speaking, but it didn’t take much time before he gathered up enough courage to.
“Forgive me for giving the wrong signals, my lord. I thought you were bright enough to understand I didn’t want to when punching you in the face.”
Louder he said: “I thought you were clever enough to understand the meaning of no!”
The man almost burst in tears when keeping it loud.
“I thought you took the tiny little small hint where I tried to push you away and beg for freedom whenever you’d ravish my body for your own pleasure, my lord!”
The steward shook and the elf felt the human warrior’s strength ache to kill or at least attack it’s way back to honor.
Aragorn pulled the string.
“Well, let’s face your lack of communication. And when I say that a steward is to make his King comfortable, I put that issue aside. There is nothing more to it, little Faramir. You are a lonely pleading boy who wants a king to put you back on place.”
Aragorn took two slow steps closer in arrogance and power.
Faramir stepped back where Arwen followed.
“No! Don’t you understand? It can’t go on like this. We have to cooperate for the sake of your land. Make each other-”
Aragorn stepped forward to grab his talking steward, but a punch in his royal tummy from the queen made him fall to his knees right in front of his surprised steward.
Faramir was half pulled and he half stepped back with the angry elf.
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The following people read the story, enjoyed it, and would like to thank the author: LN Tora