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Darkness and Light (NC-17) Print

Written by Lilith and Minx

29 March 2004 | 29486 words

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CHAPTER TWO

The weary travellers had journeyed as fast as they could, stopping only to tend the wounded hobbits along the way, but the moon was high in the sky by the time they reached Nimrodel. In the shadows they heard murmured elvish conversations and sparkling laughter. They knew that they were being watched, but the elves stayed hidden.

"Can you not call out to them, Legolas? I must return soon." Aragorn's voice was desperate.

"You know as well as I that the guardians of Lothlórien must hail us first," Legolas reminded him gently.

"But what of Faramir? What has happened to him?"

Legolas was silent. He did not like to think whether their friend was dead, or worse.

"I should leave you and Gimli here with the hobbits and return to Moria now."

"No, Aragorn, you cannot do that," Legolas insisted. "Gandalf entrusted their care to you. And how will Sam make it to Lórien without you? Gimli cannot carry him." Legolas looked at the tiny hobbit on the man's back, the cut from a stray Orc's blade on his leg making it difficult for him to walk.

"And I do not suppose you can bear yet another small hobbit? Aragorn asked, glancing at Pippin riding piggyback behind Legolas. He sighed, "What ill fortune we have met."

They struggled on, well into the forest of Lórien, before the guardians hailed them.

"Daro!" said a commanding voice, as three elves stepped forward from the trees. "Who dares to cross unbidden into the land of the Lady?"

"Finally," murmured Aragorn under his breath, eliciting a shushing sound from Legolas. They set the injured hobbits beside each other on a log; the other walkers stood behind the man and elf. Stepping forward, Aragorn bowed slightly as he introduced himself. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. My friends and I have journeyed from Rivendell to seek aid from the Lady of Lórien."

"We have heard rumours of your coming through Elrond, and the Lady welcomes you," said the tallest of the three. "We are the Guardians of Lothlórien. I am Haldir; these are my brothers, Rúmil and Orophin." He gestured towards the two figures beside him, and the fellowship gazed at them in wonder. Like three silver birch trees they stood, their porcelain skin framed by long golden locks. The shimmering iridescence of their garments mirrored the shadows cast by the moonlight in the trees. Though accustomed to the elves of Rivendell, the travellers found themselves strangely awed by the terrible beauty of the brothers.

Haldir scanned the party even as their eyes took him in. "Elrond spoke of a fellowship of nine. Where are your other companions?"

"One of our party, Gandalf the Grey, was lost to the Balrog in Moria," Aragorn replied.

"That is a sore loss to all of us," Haldir said bitterly. "Gandalf has long been a friend of the elves."

"Our ninth companion, a son of Gondor, was captured by the Orcs – alive, I believe – and I must go back for him," Aragorn continued.

Haldir shook his head slowly. "The Orcs do not take prisoners, I fear. Even if he was alive for a short while, the foul beasts have surely killed him by now. And it is far better that they do so," the elf added, a faint shudder passing through his broad shoulders.

Legolas glanced at Aragorn and saw the despair deepen in his eyes. Speaking rapidly in Silvan elvish, which he knew the ranger did not understand, he addressed the guardians.

"I am Legolas Prince of Mirkwood."

"We have heard of you, kinsman," Haldir acknowledged.

"You are correct – the chance that our friend is still alive is very slim. We fled Moria two days ago. We travelled as quickly as we could, but as you can see, two of our companions were injured. I fear that nothing we can do will help him now."

Legolas took a deep breath before he continued, "Nonetheless, Aragorn is heavy-hearted at the loss of his two friends. The possibility that he might save one of them is driving him to desperation. I fear that he will act rashly by returning to Moria alone."

"The rashness of men is not the concern of Lórien," Rúmil said haughtily.

"Nor should it be," Legolas conceded. "However, the events that bring this man here concern all of Middle-earth. I hesitate to speak of our quest, as that is for the ears of the Lady alone, but I will say that Aragorn is the greatest hope that we have against the growing darkness in the east."

"What would you have us do, Legolas?" Orophin asked. "Do you want legions of elves to storm Moria looking for your friend's dead body?"

Legolas smiled disarmingly. "Yes, actually, that would be quite helpful."

Orophin and Rúmil snorted in disgust, but Haldir regarded Legolas with a bemused expression.

"You are very bold, cousin of Mirkwood," Haldir said, "and this man's devotion is admirable. These are qualities that we need in our friends in these troubled times. Aragorn son of Arathorn has the favour of the Lady Galadriel. In her mirror she has foreseen great things for him, and would want us to lend what assistance we can. That will not be legions of elves, but perhaps there is something we can offer. Let me consult with my brothers."

Legolas returned to his friends as the three elves conferred.

"Are you going to save Faramir?" Pippin asked weakly.

"Yes, Pippin, we are, one way or another," Aragorn answered, rubbing the hobbit's brown curls. "What of the elves, Legolas? I must start back soon."

"There may be hope, Aragorn, we must wait and see." He looked over to where the elves were having what passed, for elves, as a contentious discussion. Rúmil and Orophin seemed to be protesting, but Haldir was answering each of their objections in a smooth and commanding tone. Their silvery voices sounded like rushing water to the travellers, and they were soothed by the sound.

Finally the elves finished and rejoined the others. Addressing them in the Common Language, Haldir said, "Legolas has told me of your plight. It is extraordinary for Lórien to become embroiled in the affairs of the world, especially those that primarily concern men. However, these are extraordinary times. I have been moved by your fidelity towards your kinsman, Aragorn, and offer the aid of myself and my brother Rúmil. We will accompany you back to Moria and help you find your friend. Orophin has consented to take the rest of your party to the Lady, save the dwarf. Only I can vouch for his passage through Lórien."

"I must go with Aragorn!" Legolas protested.

"No, kinsman," Haldir said. "It is your duty to explain your quest to the Lady. As you say, it is for her ears alone, and it will be better if she hears you tell it."

Legolas started to object, but was stopped by Aragorn's hand on his shoulder. "He is right," the man said. "You are in charge of the fellowship until I return. Look after our friends well."

"As you wish," Legolas bowed his head.

"I want to set out immediately," Aragorn said to Haldir.

"As you wish," said Haldir, only half-mocking the other elf.

"And dwarves can travel day and night without fatigue," Gimli added, his annoyance at not being allowed to enter Lothlórien assuaged by the fact that he would accompany Aragorn.

After bidding their friends a brief farewell, the four travellers started back in the direction from whence they had come, Aragorn pushing them ever faster. Only his frenzied pace could keep his mind off what they might find when they arrived.


"Well, what have we here?" The human voice should have been a relief after the harsh grunts of the Uruk-hai, but instead it made Faramir's blood run cold.

"He's mine," Lurtz growled.

"Oh, I was not aware the Uruk-hai had such a soft spot for men," the voice purred. "Saruman will not be pleased by your little … distraction."

"He will never know; this man won't live to tell. Mind your own business, Gríma Wormtongue."

"You fool, do you know who this is?" the velvety voice hissed. "The son of the steward of Gondor is a valuable prize, not a plaything for a hell-beast like you."

Faramir's battered eyes opened just enough to see the man standing above him. His waxen flesh was inhumanly pale. Heavy lids covered misty eyes that greedily darted over Faramir's face, drinking in the sight of the man lying naked before him, shivering and streaked with sweat and blood. Gríma licked the bottom of his curled lip, the suggestive gesture making Faramir feel sick. His head rolled back and a faint groan escaped his chafed lips.

"You poor creature," the man said silkily, brushing his long fingers through Faramir's matted hair. "I would never envy anyone unfortunate enough to win Lurtz' heart." The Uruk-hai moved toward him in rage, but Gríma stopped him with a wave of his hand. "You have done quite enough, Lurtz. Do not force me to tell Saruman of this latest indulgence; it will go ill for you."

The Uruk-hai grunted derisively, but then turned and stormed out of the room, followed by the others.

"There, my young lord, you are safe now," Gríma whispered as he ran his fingers along the length of Faramir's chest. "My, but you are a pretty one. I see why Lurtz was tempted."

Gríma took a wet cloth and began cleaning his injuries. His touch lingered long on each of the wounds, searing the pain deeper into Faramir's broken body, and the young man fought not to cry out. He tried to think of something else – anything else – but found nothing to grasp beyond the blackness of the last few hours. Gríma's hands wandered further down now, to the cuts on his stomach, then lower, to stroke the bloody gash on the inside of his thigh. Faramir groaned when the cloth finally delved between his legs to wipe off the oozing cum. He opened his eyes just enough to see Gríma's erection. No! he screamed inside, but outwardly only released a faint moan.

The sound was enough to startle Gríma, and he quickly withdrew his hand.

"But first things first. I will take you to Master, but you are too weak to travel now." He rummaged through a tattered bag on the floor and returned with a small bottle. "This will make you stronger, my precious, and ready for me," he cooed, lifting Faramir's head and forcing him to drink.

Faramir choked as the burning liquid coursed down his throat. Before the foul taste even dissipated, a blinding pain hit him between the eyes. Faramir arched his body in pain as blackness took him.


"There you are. I searched everywhere for you."

"Boromir?" Faramir struggled to open his eyes, but he was still blinded with pain.

"Of course, who else must always save you?"

"Boromir, how did you find me?" Faramir could just make out a figure in the shadows, but the features were unclear. The voice was clearly his brother's, though.

"It is not as if I had nothing better to do," Boromir continued, with a hardness that Faramir had never heard before. "Yet once again, I must drop everything to pull my little brother out of trouble. Why is that, Faramir?"

Faramir could only whimper as he reached towards the voice, grasping nothing but air. Still his brother continued, "Because even your friends abandoned you – you should have known that they couldn't be trusted."

"But they got away –" Faramir started.

"What a foolish thought, my brother. Even betraying you could not save them. They are all dead now, no thanks to you. Father is right, you know. You are quite useless. Even this simple journey was beyond your ability."

"No, Boromir –" Faramir pleaded, fighting the grievous thoughts he had long held back. He well knew his worth to his father, and had thought to earn his respect with this journey. Now he knew Denethor was right. When he was put to the test, he was found lacking. And his friends had died because of it. Now he deserved to die as they had....

Icy hands groping his shredded back snapped him back from these dark thoughts. He felt one hand caressing him while the other held him firmly in place. Greedy exploring fingers dipped into the crack between his legs, and he instinctively clenched his muscles to prevent further entry. His efforts were futile – the fingers probed inside him, followed by a thicker thumb. Faramir cried out as the wounds left by the Uruk-hai were reopened.

His brother spoke more gently now. "You are fortunate that Gríma found you, little brother. He is our friend, and your only hope. Do whatever he says – I leave you in his hands."

"No, do not leave me – please –" Faramir pleaded, but the voice spoke no more.

He fought to open his eyes, desperately needing to see Boromir. Instead he saw the cave's stone floor and felt a heavy weight across his back. It took him a moment to realize it was the weight of another's body. Then he felt a shuddering pain as his protesting flesh was impaled. Faramir tried to pull away, but rough hands secured his hips and drew him back, piercing him even deeper. He wanted to scream, but could only grunt helplessly, in time with his attacker's ruthless grinding.

Gríma's face contorted grotesquely in concentration. It had been long since he had enjoyed this kind of sport. The terror in the other man's rigid body excited him even more, infusing him with an intoxicating power. With ever-increasing speed he pounded Faramir mercilessly into the hard table. He knew the drugs were taking effect when he felt the body behind him straining back towards him.

Faramir clenched his eyes tightly as he fought against the quickening of his own erection. His own body was betraying him, reflexively pushing back against Gríma's relentless attacks. The friction was too powerful, and though he hated himself for it, Faramir felt himself building towards climax. Even as Gríma gasped and collapsed onto him, Faramir felt his own release. There was no pleasure in it, just the aching of the other man still between his legs and a growing wave of nausea.

Gríma leaned over Faramir's back, beads of sweat dripping from his pale face. Yes, this man is quite a prize, he thought to himself. It will not be easy handing him over to Master. As he reached out to stroke Faramir's face, the man quivered beneath him and retched onto the floor. Gríma sighed, and pulled himself out from between his legs.

"Yes, sadly that is one of the side effects of the draught," he said, turning Faramir over and drawing him into his arms. "But you will see, you will be stronger soon, and well able to travel." He brushed Faramir's locks from his face. "I dare say you are stronger already, for I felt your own pleasure then as well as mine. Another side effect, but it is better for you this way, is it not?"

Faramir's head lolled to the side as the room spun around him. He could hear someone speaking, but the words made no sense. He remembered his brother had been there ... and before that some smaller creatures, and an elf. Where did they all go? he thought, trying to focus his clouded mind.

Through the dim he heard Aragorn's voice. "The fellowship is lost, Faramir. We were so close to the door. If you had held out a just a few minutes more we could have made it."

"I did what I could, Aragorn, I tried to hold them back."

"Because of your incompetence the quest is lost. The hobbits are all dead. Legolas is dead. Gimli is dead. As am I. You are the only one still alive, Faramir. Why do you think that is?"

"It's not my fault –"

"Excuses, just as I would expect from the steward's second son. Why could he not send his best man? Your brother would not have given up so easily."

"But I did not give up – I fought as long as I could –" Faramir stammered.

"Perhaps you did, and perhaps you did not. All I know is that you are still alive while those you called your friends were killed. Somehow that reeks of a treachery that I did not expect from a son of Gondor."

Faramir protested weakly, "No, it's not true."

"But perhaps it is in keeping with your devious plan. If the last of Isildur's heirs is killed, then the crown would be in the hands of the stewards forever. I should never have trusted you."

"No!" Faramir cried, "I would never do that! The crown is yours, Aragorn. The stewards have always kept it safe for your return."

"Yes, it was safe as long as the king was missing. Once I reappeared, you had to scheme to get rid of me. I see it all now. Oh, why did I ever trust you, Faramir?"

Faramir tried to protest again, but it was no use; the blackness was taking him again, and he was too weak to resist.

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

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7 Comment(s)

I loved the way Faramir went from someone scared out of his wits to someone so loving. Keep up the good work.

— balrog    Thursday 28 June 2007, 10:15    #

Oh man, I’m probably going to hell for liking this! :)

— Luthien    Monday 7 January 2008, 8:15    #

This is one of my favorites to read with Faramir’s courage. I would recommend it to all. Thanks

— balrog    Tuesday 3 March 2009, 5:30    #

Thank you Balrog!:)

— Minx    Sunday 8 March 2009, 18:09    #

read it twice, love it.Great work. Hope you write more Faramir-Haldir work. :-)

— blondie    Saturday 14 December 2013, 19:10    #

@blondie: Thank you so much. Good to hear you liked reading this. Lilith has written a few sequels to this, and I hope you were able to read those too.

Minx    Wednesday 1 January 2014, 14:45    #

Loved it, whats is the name of the sequels,,,have you other faramir haldir yourself, its great

Line    Wednesday 4 November 2015, 13:46    #

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