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The King and The Ranger (R) Print

Written by Minx

30 March 2004 | 60419 words

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Chapter 9

Aragorn reached for his sword, but Faramir stayed his hand, as voices floated along the tunnel.

“Mablung! Damord! Anborn!” he called out.

Soon, the little cave had become a reunion point for a small group of Ithilien rangers with their captain, a move that almost left their king happily ignored. Aragorn watched with a loving smile as the young man he had grown so fond of was greeted with delight by his men. Faramir responded with characteristic quiet happiness, until all of them noticed their liege too stood there with them, and dropped onto their knees, even as Aragorn smiled widely, and waved his hand at them to rise.

Greetings and explanations were hurriedly exchanged as the men left the cave for the ranger’s camp near another refuge. All through the morning, Aragorn and Faramir sat in the camp and listened to the rangers report the level of activity they faced due to renewed Orc attacks or from stray groups of outsiders. Aragorn watched as Faramir spoke to his men with his usual quiet efficiency intermingled with the obvious pride he felt for them. And the obvious regard in which his men held him. After sending the rangers off to their duties, Faramir requested Mablung to stay back so that they could decide on troop requirements and other logistic issues.

The camp was in a different refuge - another cave, which Faramir told Aragorn was as large as the one at Henneth Annûn. But this one was simply hidden in the rocks and had no ponds or lakes nearby. The ground, Aragorn noted, absently was completely dry and hard. As they talked to Mablung, he noted that the tiredness was creeping back into the younger man’s voice. And he noticed that Mablung seemed to have noted the same thing.

Around noon, after they had had some food and ale, he turned to Faramir, “That’s enough for now. Get some rest. You will need it before we return.”

Faramir seemed ready to protest when Mablung spoke up, “Yes Captain, there’s a pallet at the back of the cave. You could lie down for a while.”

“I don’t –”

“You should. The water was very cold, and so is the air,” declared Aragorn and Mablung gave him a thankful glance.

Faramir didn’t protest again, and Aragorn realised with not little worry that he probably was quite exhausted. Placing a hand against his forehead he was relieved to see that it felt alright. Tucking the younger man under the blankets, he joined Mablung at a makeshift table, and continued the discussion they had been having, in a very soft tone. When they were done, he adroitly steered the conversation towards Faramir and spent the next hour and a half listening to the lieutenant talk about how he’d see Faramir grow from an inexperienced young man into a captain of rangers. Mablung had been with the company even before Faramir had joined, and had been like a mentor to him.

He spoke of Faramir’s maturing as a soldier, of the day he first killed someone, and how he had reacted to it, of how much he loved his life in Ithilien and how much he loved his brother. And Aragorn found he was listening attentively and learning a few more things about the sleeping man, and getting fonder of him by each minute.

When Faramir awoke two hour later, he felt refreshed and much more energetic, and found to his consternation that he had no work to do because all the plans they had discussed for the company’s requirements had been drafted out while he was sleeping and now the papers lay stacked in front of the king who was happily smoking his pipe and listening to Mablung talk. And to his horror, he realised that Mablung was talking of the day he had fallen at Osgiliath, while Minas Tirith held out against the dark forces, waiting for Rohan to come to their aid. Aragorn listened gravely as Mablung spoke of fighting the fell forces, until Faramir interrupted them. He was still uncomfortable speaking of it. They had feted him as a hero for leading his forces in that battle, but as far as he was concerned the real heroes were two halflings from the north and the king and steward of the realm.

Aragorn smiled at him as he joined them, “We should leave soon, sire” he said without preamble, “Boromir will probably send out half the army if we are even half a minute later than the time we said we would return.”

They borrowed horses from the rangers, fast steeds that moved at twice the speed their horses had taken the day before, and reached the city as dusk fell over it. Lamps were being lit all over. At the gate, Boromir and the others greeted them. Their changed horses were not commented upon; as everyone assumed the other pair had been too tired to undertake the return journey. When they all sat down to eat, Faramir spoke of the broken saddle strap. Seeing the servants enter with the food, he became quiet, and Aragorn suggested they talk of it after food in his study. So, they spoke instead of the Orc attack, while the others listened with worry.

“How do you think it happened?” Boromir said, as soon as they had gathered there.

“It was cut,” Faramir stated emphatically, “It looked frayed, but it was clear someone had made a cut to the strap first to weaken it.”

“Someone who has easy access to the stables,” Legolas pondered.

“All the city does, these were not from the royal stables,” Faramir told him.

“But local knowledge is still needed is it not?” Legolas asked.

Boromir nodded slowly, “So, it was either a local or a spy. Which one?”

“A spy? From Harad, do you think?” Gimli asked.

“Yes. Or even Khand, but my worry is if it is one of the locals. Why?” Boromir asked suddenly, “Why target Aragorn?”

“Because he’s the king,” Gimli said.

“Yes, so why target the king? What can one of the subjects have against Aragorn?”

Aragorn maintained silence all through listening to everyone, but contributing nothing.

“It cannot be an objection to having a king at all,” Faramir voiced the thought uppermost in all their minds, “Or they would have acted earlier. All this has happened very recently. So it must be instigated by some recent action that someone in the city disapproves of.”

“And if there is no such action?” Gimli asked.

“Then it is the work of spy. Whoever this person is had access into the palace, we must remember that, and knew that we were going to use horses from outside the royal stables. It is someone either in the household or in the higher ranks of Gondor.”

“But why?” Gimli persisted, “What could have happened that has suddenly induced someone to try and hurt Aragorn?”

“Harad!” Boromir cried out, “the peace talks.”

Everyone turned to him, and Aragorn leant forward frowning, “You think someone is opposed to peace?”

“With Harad? Yes,” Boromir stated, “Do you not remember how most of your council is against it. All those old fogies like Eredil will never trust Harad enough to want peace with them.”

“Eredil,” Gimli said thoughtfully stroking his chin.

“It could be anyone,” Faramir reminded him.

“But Eredil is most vocal about his disapproval,” Legolas stated.

“Well, what do we do? We cannot have the councillors being shadowed all day. It would cause an uproar if they were to find out,” Faramir said.

“No, we cannot,” Aragorn said firmly, “We have no conclusive proof against anyone. These acts could be by anyone in this household.”

“Not the household. We know all the servants,” Boromir said promptly.

“Reasoning can change,” Faramir told him.

“On the day the arrows were shot at you, Eredil was in the citadel at the same time,” Boromir said.

“So were Mardinel, and Firiel, and Tarlong and many I do not remember of now. It is not enough,” Aragorn said emphatically.

“And someone like Eredil would not do such a thing himself. He would get another to do it for him,” Faramir said.

“Yes, but even if it was someone else, he would still have to enter the citadel with ease, would he not?” Boromir mused.

“Whatever you say, but I will certainly keep a closer eye on the council members from today,” Legolas declared, and Gimli added consent.

“And I will get some my most trusted men to start checking into the actions of the entire household and the council,” Boromir said.

“If this is indeed Harad, there might be trouble when their envoy comes,” Faramir said suddenly.

“We will have to sort the issue out before he comes then,” Aragorn said calmly, “now let us discuss Ithilien.”

When they finally withdrew for bed at night, Faramir was the last one to slip out. Aragorn smiled at him gently, and taking his weary face in his hands, told him to go to sleep. Faramir obeyed, his arm was hurting him again. When he reached his chamber, he found Boromir waiting for him.

“How do you feel?” his brother demanded, “Aragorn said you might feel fevered because you fell into the water, and that you fought those Orcs despite your injury, and you have ridden very fast today.”

“I shall be fine,” he replied reassuringly, happy to see that his brother did not seem angry with him. He grasped Boromir’s arm gently knowing that his brother hated any display of emotion. To his surprise, Boromir suddenly gave him a small hug, and gently ran his hand through his hair, an action he had not displayed since Faramir’s early childhood.

“Sleep well,” he said softly and then left.

The next day, feeling much better than he had for the past week and more, he watched as Tarlong and Boromir sat and discussed strengthening Aragorn’ s guard some more. Aragorn simply groaned and left the room. Legolas and Gimli entered at the same time, and stared after their friend as he left shaking his head, followed by two armed guards. After Tarlong had left, the three sat and talked while Faramir listened. They listed out each person in the household and in the council, listened as Boromir discussed what he knew of their past history, and wondered if he or she could be the assassin since by now they had concluded that the archer was definitely one who could enter and leave easily. Within a short while the exercise had reduced to a joke as Boromir’s recollection of one particular councillor took on a particularly sordid hue, and soon all of them were laughing madly.

Finally when they had calmed somewhat, Faramir turned to his brother, “Have you spoken to the men?”

Boromir nodded, “For the next two days they will be intensively following the movements of all within suspicion. After all it is barely thirty people, ten councillors and twenty of the household staff, including the kitchen staff. I have also learned something from some of the old army records. Lord Eredil was at one time the best archer Minas Tirith boasted of.”

“That does not say anything,” Faramir protested.

“No, unfortunately, it does not,” Boromir sighed, “For, some years later, that title went to another, Lord Saracel from the council,” he rose at that, “I must leave shortly.”

The new battlements had been built in the port of Cair Andros and Boromir had wanted to check on them personally. He was to return the next morning and had meanwhile even told Aragorn that he should not leave the citadel at all.

Aragorn had raised an eyebrow at him and then when Legolas and Gimli had joined Boromir in his chorus glared at all three of them. Faramir had simply watched the proceedings bemused. Finally, Legolas rode out with Boromir to Cair Andros after the noon meal, and Gimli joined his kin for another night out in town. Aragorn had had enough of them hovering around him, and had threatened to ride off escortless unless they stopped behaving like his personal guard, of which, as he pointed out, he already had two. Seeing him in a foul mood, his friends had left him alone for the night, after requesting Faramir to keep an eye on him. And Faramir had solemnly promised that he would, inducing a gleam in his king’s eye that he found very exciting.

Later in the evening as the shadows began to fall, Faramir returned after finishing his work at the quartermaster’s to find the palace quiet and nearly empty. Aragorn had requested an early meal, and dismissed the servants. They ate quietly, just the two of them. After they had eaten, Aragorn rose, “Would you join me for some wine, Faramir?”

“Certainly sire,” Faramir replied, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry. He would join Aragorn for a lot more, if he would just ask. And Aragorn did.

“In my bedchamber,” he said softly. Faramir nodded silently.

They sat with empty wine glasses in hand; neither had had more than a spot to drink. Taking Faramir’s glass and placing it away, Aragorn pulled him up from his chair gently and stood in front of him. They stood in front of each other silently for a few seconds just drinking in each other’s sight.

And then Aragorn moved. He reached out and tugged at the bindings of Faramir’s tunic, pulling them loose, and then helped him remove the tunic. Then he undid the string of the leggings, and pulled them swiftly down even as Faramir stood with his eyes half-closed, a rapt expression on his face as Aragorn deliberately ran a finger lightly along his inner thigh. Rising up he motioned for him to step out of the fallen clothes, and watched as the younger man obeyed, showing just a slight trace of self-consciousness at having his entirely naked body exposed to another man. Aragorn stared back at the figure he had held in his arms in that cave for an entire night.

His heart fluttering a little, Faramir silently moved towards Aragorn, and reached for the long robe he wore. Aragorn gently pried his fingers away. Faramir stared back at him in dismay, and opened his mouth to speak. Aragorn tenderly placed a finger on the pale lips to silence him, and then lowered him with great care against the pillows. Sitting by Faramir, he ran a hand through his hair, before leaning down to kiss him lightly on the lips. With infinite care, he then moved on to kiss him first on his neck, then his shoulder, then across his chest and stomach. Straightening up, he glanced at his beloved’s face, and smiled as he noticed the mingled expression of anticipation and desire.

He stood up, and shrugged himself out of the robe, letting it slide to the floor in one fluid motion revealing himself for the first time to the younger man whose eyes devoured the sight of his naked body hungrily. Faramir stared at him, and then sat up reaching for him. Aragorn came and stood by the bed while Faramir knelt on it and ran his hands all over his skin. Tentative fingers roamed his chest and stomach and down his back, before the hungry eyes settled on his lower body. The hesitant hands rested along his muscled flanks, and well-sculpted backside before coming to his throbbing erection. Aragorn shuddered briefly at the touch, and grabbing Faramir by his bony shoulders pivoted him a little before joining him on the bed. The younger man moved forward, and began to slide his hands over Aragorn’ s shaft. He stroked it hesitantly at first and then as he realised what the touch was doing to Aragorn, his movements became more skilful, the long, dexterous fingers running lovingly up and down the engorged length, until Aragorn finally spilt his seed all over his fingers, softly muttering Faramir’s name over and over again.

The king moaned passionately and pulled his lover down onto the bed with him and began kissing him, sucking at his mouth. He wrapped his arms around his slender lover, hugging him tight and set to explore his body with his hands once again. His splayed fingers came to rest over the Faramir’s taut backside, and pushing him onto his back, he began to spread the legs apart while stroking his arousal gently.

Faramir felt the strong, callused hands run over his lower body and gently take his length in them and stroke him before letting him go, as the fingers began exploring lower. Each touch of those wonderful fingers sent him to a new height of ecstasy. He was breathing with difficulty now as Aragorn’ s very presence began to overwhelm him. Aragorn teased his hand in between his legs, and began fingering him lightly with almost feather like touches.

“Aragorn,” he cried out a full-throated cry, as he clutched at the sheets. He felt he could bear into longer; he was going to burst, “Please, Aragorn, do not make me wait, I cannot.”

“Ssh, love. We must go slowly,” Aragorn admonished him gently, as he spread his legs further apart, and continued sliding his finger up and down the crack, “I must prepare you properly, or it will hurt.”

“Hurry!” Faramir almost sobbed out, staring at Aragorn out of large grey eyes, still clutching the sheets with his fingers.

Aragorn smiled, and then swung off the bed. Faramir groaned loudly, a guttural sound filled with desire and want, that simply sent a fire racing through Aragorn’ s own aroused body. Quickly he went over to a chest of drawers and pulled out a small vial. Pouring the liquid onto his fingers, he reclaimed his position on the bed, and then gently, once more, slid his finger along the crack.

“Have you ever before -?” Aragorn asked him.

“Not – not this far,” Faramir murmured softly. He had touched and been touched by other men, and sometimes laid close to them at night all in his soldiering days when the tensions of war made men turn to those closest for succour. But he had never been made love to by one or made love to one himself. Aragorn nodded thoughtfully.

“Turn around,” he suggested.

Faramir obeyed, keeping his head turned sideways so that Aragorn could see his profile, and the desire clearly written on his face. Aragorn rubbed the oil all over his hands, and pushing the legs apart, set to applying it along his crack.  Faramir moaned deeply. Aragorn bent and gently kissed the scar on his shoulder, and then began a series of kisses all the way down the spine. Slowly, tentatively, he placed a fingertip against the tight entrance, and gently rubbed the oil in. Another guttural moan came out of the figure under him. As tenderly as he could, he slid the finger in little by little, all the while kissing Faramir’s back. His finger was soon completely inside the tight, hot tract, and Faramir looked rapturous. A second finger followed the first causing just a little twinge of sweat on the pale brow, even as the kisses caused the lips to crease into a marvelling smile. A third finger however caused a small cry of pain that made him reach up and stroke the thin face. He thrust his fingers in slower and slower, painfully stretching the muscles. Beads of sweat stood out on Faramir’s brow as he sucked his breath in.

Aragorn watched in concern, and stopped thrusting.

“No! Go on!” Faramir cried out, gasping.

Aragorn smiled, and then pulled out his fingers. Stooping to brush Faramir’s head with his lips, he pulled him up, and turning him around, lifted his hips off the bed with one hand, forcing him to wrap his legs tightly around him. Pulling him close, he prepared to enter him, resting the tip of his shaft lightly against Faramir’s entrance. He wrapped one arm around his back, and used the other to tease Faramir’s throbbing erection. The younger man’s breathing was coming out in short heavy rasps now, and his head was thrown back, exposing a long bony neck that Aragorn immediately started kissing.

“Hurry, please!” Faramir wailed out as Aragorn continued to tease him by hovering and not penetrating. Slowly and steadily, still kissing lightly, Aragorn pushed in a little, and closed his eyes as the tight muscles closed around the tip of his inflamed member, and aroused him even further.

A sharp rapping sounded on the outside door. Almost by reflex, the lovers pulled apart, Faramir grimacing at the sudden, painful movement. They stared at each other nearly frozen. The knocking sounded again.

“Who is it?” Aragorn called out in an irritated tone while Faramir gave out a groan that was almost a sob, as he curled over hugging himself.

“Sire, an urgent missive from Rohan has arrived,” came the voice from the other side of the closed door.

They stared at each other again, and then Faramir nodded silently. Missives from Rohan, and urgent ones could not be ignored lightly. Aragorn sighed, and gently stroking Faramir’s face called out, “I will be there.”

He pulled on his robe even as Faramir slid off the bed slowly, flushing a little and looking extremely disappointed.

“Soon, dear heart,” Aragorn said gently and reassuringly. Faramir gave him a small, almost shy smile, and pulled on a robe he found lying near the bed. He coloured slightly as he realised he had just soiled Aragorn’ s sheets.

When Aragorn returned from the door, he had a strange look on his face, and a piece of parchment in his hand. Faramir moved towards him worried. Aragorn did not seem to notice him as he stood reading the parchment, his face creased in thought. Faramir came and stood by him, his glance straying onto the parchment.

A single word leapt out at him, and heart beating mercilessly, he read the whole missive.

Aragorn suddenly realised warm breath was falling on his neck and looked up to Faramir’s almost white face. And then back at the message that he realised the younger man had also read. The missive from Edoras to inform them that Lady Arwen and her escort had reached their court, and would set out soon to arrive in Minas Tirith for her wedding with Aragorn.

Faramir backed away towards the door, his face a mask of desperation. Aragorn stared at him silently, rooted to the spot, as the younger man finally backed up against the heavy wooden door, and then turned and stumbled out.

Faramir’s last thought as he fell asleep was to wonder how those entrancingly beautiful lips would feel on the rest of his body.

NB: Please do not distribute (by any means, including email) or repost this story (including translations) without the author's prior permission. [ more ]

Enjoyed this story? Then be sure to let the author know by posting a comment at https://www.faramirfiction.com/fiction/the-king-and-the-ranger. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!

11 Comment(s)

This story was AMAZING! I loved how
1) There WAS a plot!
2) There was actual chracter development between Faramir and Aragorn…my FAV couple!

Great Job! Keep it up!

— FA4ever!    Monday 15 December 2008, 5:16    #

Hi FA4ever! Thank you for your kind comments. I’m really, really delighted that you liked this story so much!:)

— minx    Thursday 18 December 2008, 21:06    #

Hi! I loved your story! =) It’s really great, Faramir and Aragorn are perfect, so are the other characters. Especially Legolas who is wonderful! ^^ (Arwen is scary! XD)
I read other fanfics you wrote, and I loved them as well. Your writing is very good!

(hum… Sorry, English is not my first language! :S )
Bye, Lily

— Lily Of the West    Wednesday 11 February 2009, 20:16    #

Thanks Lily! I’m very glad you liked the fics.

Thanks for reading and taking the time out to comment!

— minx    Thursday 12 February 2009, 19:10    #

I so love your fics!!! I am very addicted to Fara/Ara stories. Perhaps is there a sequel awaiting. Please, say yes!!!!!!

— camille    Tuesday 24 February 2009, 18:16    #

Thank you Camille:) I’m not sure of a sequel to this one but yes, there are lots of A/F stories on their way:) thank you for reading this!

— Minx    Sunday 1 March 2009, 17:42    #

Oh! It was gorgeous! It was simply unique! Especially the ending! You are a great writer!
Oh, poor Faramir… No, poor Aragorn… How long he waited that!!!
Thank you very much, Minx!

— Anastasiya    Thursday 10 September 2009, 15:08    #

Thank you Anastasiya:) I’m really glad you liked it.

— minx    Saturday 12 September 2009, 20:22    #

Wonderful story! Thank you for posting it!!

(Even though I know it’s been awhile…)

— Radical    Friday 28 May 2010, 2:46    #

Thank you Radical! I’m very glad you liked it:)

— Minx    Friday 4 June 2010, 19:19    #

Hello, just wanted to stop by and say how much I adore this fic. I must have read it a dozen times over the years. I hope Aragorn has been making it up to our sweet Fara all this time ;-)

— Laurelote    Sunday 19 August 2012, 18:32    #

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