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Family Honor (NC-17) Print

Written by Mcguffan

14 July 2006 | 162886 words

Chapter 15

Fatigue was evident in Aragorn’s movements as he took off his clothes, with Faramir’s eager assistance, and lay down upon the furs. Though the lines of his body suggested utter exhaustion, he kept his eyes open until Faramir finished removing his own clothes and nestled in beside him. Once the younger man was tucked securely against him, Aragorn gave up fighting the looming unconsciousness and he succumbed to a deep sleep. Though Faramir had slept no more than Aragorn the night before, he determined to remain awake for a while to let the reassurance of the older man’s presence seep into him. As much as he had tried to tell himself that he was prepared for their separation, as much as he had tried to tell himself that duty demanded he say farewell with as much calm as possible, Faramir had lived through the night before in anguish. He had not hidden his anguish well and Faramir suspected, with a heavy feeling of guilt, that assuaging the worst of Faramir’s own misery had taken a toll on Aragorn.

He had not meant to be a burden, far from it. He had wanted desperately to be strong, desirable, beautiful. He had wanted to be anything and everything Aragorn could desire, not only as a proof of love but also so that Aragorn would remember him through the long days ahead. It had started off fairly well. Faramir had melted like butter into Aragorn’s first embrace. He had tried to be soft and yielding and do everything that would appeal to Aragorn, but it soon became obvious to the Captain that he was trying too hard. He could not conceal his own desperation. He could not stop himself from murmuring `I love you’ over and over nor he could keep the panic from his eyes if Aragorn left off touching him for even a moment. Aragorn had given him more than love, more than happiness. Aragorn had changed Faramir’s entire world. His adoration of the older man was more than gratitude, though he was grateful. It was more than a need to please. Faramir did want to please Aragorn very much but he was coming to understand that failing to please would not result in the same sort of punishment that he was accustomed to and that had scared him so much. No, Faramir needed to love Aragorn and make him happy because that was an end in itself because when Aragorn was happy then so was Faramir.

Before Aragorn, Faramir had lived at the mercy of a savage and unpredictable world. His thoughts were consumed by the elaborate minutiae of propitiating an unappeasable and apparently random deity. With Aragorn, the world took on order. Causes had effects and events occurred according to rational, interpretable processes. From this security, Faramir found an incredible sense of freedom. His ideas, no longer bound to questions of the immediate future, exploded in all directions. At every corner he was flooded with insights and intuitions. Faramir doubted he would be able to retain more than a glimmer of what he had found with Aragorn in his king’s absence. With everything in him, Faramir feared a return to the world before Aragorn. He didn’t want to go back to chaos and darkness. Unwittingly the Variag plot had afforded Faramir a small reprieve. Though it was selfish and though the danger was very real, peace had returned to Faramir. As long as he was with Aragorn, everything would turn out all right.


He had not intended to sleep, but as Faramir’s eyes drifted open he became aware that time had passed. Aragorn, who in Faramir’s last moment of awareness had been in profound sleep, was now regarding him with hungry fascination. Smiling, Faramir closed the short distance between them to press his lips against the older man’s. It was as though with that slight pressure he had loosed a flood. The moment their lips touched Aragorn reached out and pulled Faramir hard against him while forcing his tongue into Faramir’s mouth. Purring his approval, Faramir struggled to push himself beneath Aragorn, his own tongue welcoming the invader.

Adjusting his body a little to allow Faramir to reposition himself, Aragorn buried his fingers in the younger man’s hair striving to plunge deeper into his mouth. Once his weight was settled atop the younger man, Aragorn broke the kiss to look down into Faramir’s eyes. Aragorn loved the feel of Faramir’s warm mass underneath him. It managed to be both arousing and soothing. The look in Faramir’s passion-darkened eyes proclaimed louder than words his own pleasure but Aragorn continued to gaze intently as though searching for some hint that there was more to Faramir’s reaction than was apparent on the surface. Aragorn, himself, did not care to be pinned. Could Faramir truly enjoy something that Aragorn found… disagreeable? How could he do so many things to one he loved that he did not want done to himself? He had asked these questions of himself before but the events of the day before brought them once again to the forefront of his mind.

“Kiss me?” Faramir had endured his lover’s scrutiny for as long as he was able but he did not like the shadow that seemed to be gathering in his lover’s features. “Please?” Hands that had been stroking the nape of Aragorn’s neck exerted gentle downward pressure.

Leaning down Aragorn brushed his lips against Faramir’s, even as he shifted his body so that Faramir no longer supported the majority of his weight. “Tell me what you want, my love.”

“I want you.” Faramir answered without bothering to stop his attempts to deepen the too light kiss.

“No. You must be more specific. Please, Faramir.”

Now Faramir did pause. “I want us to leave Khand safely, to go to Minas Tirith. I would like to see you King in Gondor. I-” Aragorn laid a gentle finger across Faramir’s mouth, then replaced it with another too gentle kiss.

“I mean tonight. Please tell me specifically what you want tonight.” Though Faramir was not certain why, the question was clearly important to Aragorn.

“I want you to kiss me.”

This answer coaxed a smile from Aragorn and earned him another, slightly longer kiss. “What else?”

“More kisses!”

Another kiss, but then more sternly “What else?”

“I want to touch you and I want you to touch me… everywhere. I want to feel your hands on me. I want to breathe the air that you’ve breathed. I want…” Faramir left off speaking but drew his legs up to caress Aragorn’s hips with his thighs.

“Tell me, love. I need to hear you say it.” The words were still insistent but Faramir took it as a positive sign that Aragorn had relaxed some of his weight back on top of him.

“I want to feel you inside me. The taste of you in my mouth, the feel of you in my body is everything.” Faramir’s mouth was watering around his own words. He felt the muscles in his stomach and thighs tense at the almost shameful but altogether pleasurable confession. “I wish you could be everywhere inside me at once.”

Aragorn’s head sank down on Faramir’s shoulder in something like relief. There was a wall around his inner most desires and while no single moment could destroy that wall the persistent battering of Faramir’s love and trust was slowly loosening the mortar, dissolving the sediment and leaving a few small cracks. Stroking the ranger’s hair back and kissing the top of his head, Faramir was only dimly aware of Aragorn’s internal struggles. It was enough for him to be touched and loved in whatever way Aragorn chose.

In the next moment, Aragorn had recovered his self-possession and from where he had rested his head he began to take an interest in rubbing his bearded cheek against Faramir’s chest. Sighing contentedly at the resumption of the ranger’s attentions, Faramir let his hands move down Aragorn’s neck until he was caressing his back and shoulders. Unfortunately the position of Faramir’s arms interfered with Aragorn’s ability to trace the flexible curve of his ribs. This new task had taken a place of prominent importance in the older man’s mind as kissed a path down Faramir’s sternum. Becoming aware of an obstruction in his path, Aragorn, without conscious consideration, captured Faramir’s wrist and brought the younger man’s arm down to the blanket away from his body. He kept his lover’s arm securely pinned as he let his tongue follow the contour of his ribs. When Faramir shivered at the slight tickle Aragorn applied his tongue with greater force while still pressing down firmly on the younger man’s wrist.

Aragorn looked up at Faramir as a second, stronger, tremor passed through his lover’s body. The young man’s eyes were closed, bliss written clearly across his features. Faramir’s other arm had been flung to the side in rough symmetry with the arm Aragorn held. Straddling, Faramir’s thighs Aragorn rose to his knees. With careful deliberation, the ranger wrapped long fingers about Faramir’s free wrist holding it as firmly as he held its mate. Again Faramir’s body shuddered. Aragorn felt no resistance in Faramir’s limbs, nothing that even a highly suspicious mind could interpret as discomfort or an attempt to extricate himself. Still, the long sinewy muscles of the young man’s forearms stood out with strain. There was the barest flutter of movement beneath Aragorn’s fingers as Faramir reveled in this mild restraint.

“Look at me, my love.” Aragorn commanded quietly.

Aragorn’s hold on his beloved’s wrists tightened involuntarily as Faramir obediently opened his eyes. With the increase in pressure, another tremor racked Faramir’s body and his hips bucked, though the movement was constrained by Aragorn’s weight. Despite the helpless jerking of his hips, the younger man kept his arms still in Aragorn’s grip. His eyes were dilated with passion and Aragorn saw amid the love and trust, which he had grown accustomed to seeing in his beloved that there was also eagerness and excitement. Seeing the wild arousal in his lover’s eyes sent fire raging through Aragorn’s heart but even as he felt the sweat begin to run down his temples, Aragorn felt something tight and painful within him ease.

Aragorn thought he must have held Faramir like this before at some point in their times together. Surely, he had. Suddenly, though, he was aware of the significance of holding his lover down, of physically keeping him still, directing his every motion leaving the other man helpless to do anything but obey. Releasing one of Faramir’s wrists Aragorn brought the other to his lips. He kissed the palm, then pressed his lips to the rapidly beating pulse. The idea of Faramir so eagerly helpless within his grasp, of controlling his beloved’s every movement, touching him anywhere, everywhere he wanted was intoxicating, but in recognizing the need of it he found that the desire he had so long tried to hide within himself no longer threatened to consume him entirely. Finally able to recognize what he was doing- and much important- able to recognize that there was no fear or disgust in Faramir’s eyes as the younger man also became aware of what he was doing, Aragorn found the urgency within him abate. Together, he and Faramir could explore what would please them both best. He and Faramir could take long hours to find all the myriad ways to enjoy one another. This was not a thing to rush into lightly but must come from an unassailable core of understanding. The only indispensable thing was to love Faramir, other needs and desires could be postponed.

When Aragorn released his wrist, Faramir felt a wave of disappointment wash through him. It had been so very safe with his lord holding him tightly. For those few moments he knew Aragorn’s thought were only upon him, his only concern was for Faramir and the pleasure he could take from him. Faramir, himself, had felt freed of all responsibility but to do whatever Aragorn commanded him to do, to be whatever Aragorn desired him to be. The yearning to give himself entirely to Aragorn, to lose himself completely to the other man knowing that he would be cherished and protected was so strong it made him ache. It was a hard thing to glimpse something so wonderful, so beautiful but then to turn away from it.

As though sensing something of his lover’s regret, Aragorn seemed to rededicate himself to flooding the younger man with so much sensation that he forgot any lingering disappointment. Following the throbbing line of veins up Faramir’s arm, Aragorn kissed and licked his way to the warm vulnerable flesh at his lover’s armpit and inhaled deeply of his scent. Then Aragorn covered him entirely and claimed the younger man’s mouth with aggressive thrusts of his tongue. Faramir’s eager response broke off into a plaintive moan as Aragorn brought his hand between them and stroked their erections together.

Enthusiastically, Faramir wrapped his thighs around Aragorn’s waist, rocking against him as he tilted his hips up. Aragorn grit his teeth against the sensation of his penis sliding between the firm mounds of Faramir’s buttocks. He could not contain a strangled moan as he maneuvered himself off the beautifully supple body beneath him. Faramir’s eyes went wide with sudden panic before he saw that Aragorn had only moved away from him to retrieve some oil. He had forgotten about the need for preparation. Faramir groaned at the delay and wondered what it would feel like for Aragorn just to take him without concern for anything but claiming him, owning him. The thought caused Faramir’s penis to twitch in excitement and he spread his legs wider so that Aragorn could do what he deemed necessary as quickly as possible.

Feeling the same urgency as his lover, Aragorn moved as quickly as he could. Faramir rocked back onto his fingers, testing his patience almost beyond endurance. After Aragorn had prepared Faramir as thoroughly as he was able, he lifted the younger man’s ankles to his shoulder- dropping a kiss upon the thick part of the bone of his ankle as he did so. Aligning himself against the entrance to Faramir’s body, Aragorn pushed in inch by careful inch. Faramir struggled to hurry the process, desperately trying to impale himself onto Aragorn but finding himself prevented by the older man’s firm grip on his hips.

“Oh Aragorn, oh my lord, my…love, my Aragorn, oh my love.” Faramir moaned helplessly.

“Yes, my darling. Yes, sweetheart.” Aragorn crooned in answer.

It took only a few strokes before Faramir was overcome by orgasm. Even as he was gripped by his climax Faramir became aware that this he had peaked far too quickly. He wanted to hide his face at such a lack of discipline but Aragorn- who seemed to have tensed every muscle to forestall his own orgasm reached down to stroke his face. As the last of the tremors passed through him, Aragorn began, once more, to thrust within his lover.

Without the insistent clamor of his own arousal, Faramir was able to concentrate exclusively on the feel of the man moving within him. Experimentally, he tensed his muscles when Aragorn was buried completely within him and he believed he could almost feel the older man’s erection twitch inside him. Moaning in response to Faramir’s movements Aragorn stilled to take in several heavy breaths before he was able to reestablish his rhythm. Faramir pushed his hips as high as he could manage, trying to coax Aragorn deeper inside him. Again Aragorn paused, this time leaning forward to kiss his lover, forcing Faramir legs against into his chest.

Before very much time seemed to have passed, Faramir found himself hardening again and he found himself keening softly as Aragorn’s belly moved against his growing erection. Aragorn, too, was approaching the end of his considerable endurance. Sitting back on his knees Aragorn dragged Faramir up onto his lap so that he could move with even greater power into the willing body beneath him. Faramir’s ankles slipped from Aragorn’s shoulders but he wrapped them fast around the older man’s waist and pushed himself hard into Aragorn’s lap. Bracing himself over Faramir, Aragorn drove deeply into him, his face a mask of concentration as he pushed himself against the small bundle of nerves buried within his lover. Faramir pressed both hands against the ground to keep himself from sliding across the blankets with the force of Aragorn’s thrust.

Faramir, panting helplessly, began to feel Aragorn’s rhythm breaking down. On the last thrust, Aragorn stilled as if frozen and Faramir felt heat scalding his insides. After a few seconds Aragorn began moving gently as he emptied himself inside the younger man. Faramir’s own erection was twitching in sympathy with Aragorn’s and the ranger groped blindly until he was able to take hold of the Faramir’s aching flesh. Almost at the first touch Faramir spent himself for the second time. The pearly fluid arched across his chest to mingle with the drying seed of his first explosion.

Moving with the deliberate caution of a man who knows himself to be drunk or on the brink of exhaustion, Aragorn disengaged from Faramir and collapsed onto his side. Moving as though the very last of his strength had been wrung from him, Faramir moved the few inches necessary to fall against Aragorn and throw his arms about him. They lay together for a long time, taking long deep breaths. Eventually, concern for Faramir’s comfort roused the older man. Slowly Aragorn rose and brought back a damp cloth.

“Are you all right, love?” Aragorn whispered, examining his lover as he moved the cloth over his body.

Faramir nodded blissfully. He was certain he would feel this lovemaking all through the next day, perhaps longer.

When they were both a little cleaner and the blanket had been pulled up about them. Faramir rubbed the side of his face against Aragorn’s chest as he tried to borough closer. “Do you like to hear me say the things I want? It must be that since you know already.”

“I do like hearing you say it.” Aragorn answered stroking Faramir’s hair. “But I need to ask you since I don’t know what you want until you tell me.”

“But you do know. You always know. You know before I do.” Faramir replied putting his arms around Aragorn’s neck then deliberately crossing his wrists as if they were bound together.

Aragorn kissed Faramir as he rearranged him into a more natural and comfortable position. He felt remarkably contented as he told Faramir he loved him then closed his eyes to sleep.


When Halbarad met Aragorn the next morning, he knew immediately that his friend was in a much more positive frame of mind. They did not speak beyond an initial greeting as they filled bowls of porridge, Aragorn taking an extra for Faramir, but it was clear to the observant ranger that Aragorn’s mood had greatly improved. Halbarad was relieved but not truly surprised. He knew Aragorn was reluctant to assume too obvious a leadership role, he knew that his lord guarded the secret of his identity almost to the extreme of losing himself in `Strider’. This all had to do with Isildur and Elrond and an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. Halbarad could have rattled off half a dozen ready reasons to explain why his lord and dearest friend would lose his temper, grow nervous or- worst of all- withdraw into himself whenever he suspected men might see through to the core of the leader he was. Aragorn probably could list them too, and a dozen more besides. Insight wasn’t enough in these sorts of situations.

Whatever his doubts, whatever dreadful dreams of the future haunted him, however, Halbarad knew that Aragorn would not turn his back on his people. Aragorn would do his duty. He would become king. The stakes as Halbarad understood them had to do with Aragorn’s ability to accept happiness along with his destiny. In the right circumstance, times such as this were opportunities for Aragorn to be eased into seeing himself as leader and king. With Faramir present or Arwen or Halbarad himself on a good day then Aragorn could be gently reconciled to not only the inevitability but also the desirability of his future. Halbarad was pleased, then, to see that the magic of love or unconditional acceptance or whatever it was that Faramir had been able to provide had apparently been used to good effect. Sensing the direction, if not the particulars of his friend’s thoughts, Aragorn indulged Halbarad’s faintly smug expression and counted himself most fortunate to have such a friend.

Faramir had been unrolling maps and weighting the edges, but as the two rangers entered the tent he straightened to greet them both. While the Captain accepted the bowl of porridge Aragorn had brought him with a smile of gratitude- more for having been remembered than for the porridge itself, Halbarad advance purposefully on the Gauntlet. The `Killing Fist’ had not been moved since Aragorn had set it down the night before and when Halbarad stood before the object he jabbed it accusingly with a finger.

“Any chance this will reveal any further secrets?” Halbarad demanded, pronouncing `this’ in a way that would certainly have intimidated the gauntlet, if it were possible to intimidate inanimate objects.

“If it has secrets then I think they will be revealed to Gandalf or not at all, for I can make no more from it then what is apparent on the surface.” Aragorn answered, already having turned his attention to the maps Faramir had been laying out. Halbarad gave the offending gauntlet another few hard pokes before turning his attention to Aragorn at the head of the table. When Aragorn sensed that both men were looking at him, waiting for him to begin, he allowed himself a small rueful smile before proceeding to outline his strategy.

“The Variags will be feeling very confident in their plans right now, since we have acted, thus far, as they would have predicted. They will feel justified in their assumptions and wait eagerly for the first opportunity to close the trap.” Aragorn felt very self-conscious describing events, as he could not help but feel all of this trouble was his fault alone. He had to fight down the twin urgings of his wounded pride and his concern for his friends that bid him send Faramir and Halbarad away, face the Variags alone and let them do their worst.

Taking a deep breath, he soldiered on: “Our task is to undermine their confidence in their assumptions, postpone any opportunity to confront us and finally make the cost of that confrontation seem too high.” Aragorn would have continued feeling that the worst was now over but Faramir had a question.

“Is not the ultimate goal to find a means for you to escape—Of course, if we can convince them to leave us all alone that would be the best, but surely we should devote the bulk of our energy and planning to keeping the Enemy from you.”

“I cannot leave you and your men to be punished for my escape. Do not ask it.”

“But, was that not our understanding?” Faramir demanded helplessly.

“If I allow you to shield me then I cannot abandon you. I am not the only prize in this game. You, yourself would be of great value to the Variags as would Halbarad. We shall see this through together.”

Faramir was on the point of saying that Faramir himself was hardly very valuable either as a hostage or as a source of information- since he knew so very little about the Dunedain and Halbarad would only be valuable if he was caught alive and then broke under torture. Before he could voice his thought, however, he realized just how grizzly a picture he was painting. If he were in Aragorn’s place Faramir knew would not be able to leave those who were prepared to sacrifice for him. Resigning himself to Aragorn’s decision, Faramir took a deep breath: “What must we do, then, so that we see this through together?”

Aragorn smiled proudly at the Captain for a moment before returning to strategy. “I think Halbarad shall be the most able to conceive tactics for undermining the Variags belief in their assumptions. In general, my importance must be diminished whereas the value of the Gauntlet to Denethor and Gondor should be embellished.”

“I’ll have a loud conversation with Gildel about the lengths Denethor was prepared to go to to obtain the gauntlet as soon as were done here. I’ll also invent some history for you and perhaps a few endearing but less than majestic flaws.” Halbarad began ticking through an internal list. Once he knew what the enemy thought he could plan to mislead them. It had been miserable for him not to understand the goals and motives of his adversaries.

“I shall do my best to enact whatever unroyal idiosyncrasies you shall make for me.” Aragorn commented. He had the utmost confidence in Halbarad’s ingenuity. “I suspect I shall be tripping over my own bootlaces by lunch.” Halbarad smiled and Faramir struggled not to look pained.

“With your permission, Captain Faramir, I think it best if we told people that I have given an oath of allegiance to Gondor. If Strider and I are two humble soldiers of fortune then it would seem logical that I would take the opportunity to join my comrade in his new adventure.”

Faramir murmured his assent to the deception, though he was cognizant of a slight disappointment. He would have liked very much to have Halbarad’s oath in truth. Aragorn had pledged himself to Gondor. If Halbarad would do the same, Faramir could not help but think it would draw Aragorn yet closer to his country. A personal link between the canny ranger and Gondor appealed to Faramir’s patriotic sensibilities, but Halbarad’s loyalty would probably be to the west, with Arnor.

“It might also be necessary to make use of the common perception of your relationship with your father.”

“What do you mean?” Faramir’s voice had grown chilly as he regarded the ranger. For a moment, it looked as though Aragorn might have intervened in the conversation but ultimately he remained silent, allowing Halbarad to answer the question.

“It is well known that Boromir is the favored son. Given that, your search for the gauntlet might be interpreted as your attempt to prove yourself—either you seek to please the Steward or you seek to declare yourself a force in your own right. In both cases, Aragorn drops out of the equation.” Halbarad’s voice was calm and reasonable. Faramir was tempted to find it insulting but in justice he couldn’t.

It was the painful truth that all of Gondor considered itself entitled to know all the household details of the Steward’s family. Faramir considered it enough of a humiliation to know his father lacked respect for him, the fact that it was common knowledge was worse but to deliberately publicize the situation seemed unbearable. It was sordid to deal in gossip and rumormongering, wasn’t it? One couldn’t stop people from talking but the dignified thing to do was ignore it—not exploit it.

Yet, as Faramir continued to think he began to see the advantages of what Halbarad suggested. This was life and war not a romantic ballad. He lived in the public eye and as a result everyone, from the farmers who sold grain in Minas Tirith to the merchants’ wives who bought it, had an opinion about him and his father. Why not let Halbarad use that to deceive their enemies and protect Aragorn?

“Very well. But how do you plan to disseminate all of this misleading information.”

“Mostly, I’ll just talk. Or I’ll let someone else talk and occasionally wiggle my eyebrows in a meaningful manner.” Halbarad appeared as though he was looking forward to his task.

“You expect that those you talk to will run to the Variags? Surely, they will consider the source.” Faramir’s curiosity had taken over from his previous chagrin. The ranger didn’t think he could just tell the enemy what to believe.

“No, not exactly, but I’ll talk to people and they’ll talk to others and eventually I will be forgotten.”

“But how can you be sure the Variags will hear everything you want them to.”

“I don’t expect that one seed in ten to survive to bear fruit.” Halbarad admitted. “If I present 100 things for them to notice they will catch 10 but I don’t know which 10 so I have to do the hundred.” Halbarad continued as though in apology: “The percentage might be higher except that I am trying to communicate ideas that go against what the Enemy already thinks. It would be much easier if I wanted to give them evidence to believe something they already believe is correct.”

“I admire your persistence. I suspect you have a great talent for this particular aspect of warfare.” It was becoming ever clearer to Faramir that battles were not the only tactic of war—perhaps not even the most important tactic.

“Halbarad has a very subtle mind.” Aragorn commented, pleased at the way the conversation had progressed.

“Devious rather than subtle.” Halbarad amended with a small smile of his own.

“As you will, my friend. Just remember to keep me and Faramir abreast of your plans.” Turning his attention to the maps, Aragorn next spoke to Faramir. “Since we are less likely to be attacked in the company of Khandrim, Faramir must try to arrange to travel with the Western tribes as long as possible.”

Faramir nodded. “The Western tribes do not, as a general rule, get along with the Variags and I believe a number of them will be willing to help us provided they can do so without too much risk to themselves.”

“I trust you will be able to make arrangements with the tribes.” Aragorn affirmed. “If you find that you have a choice, take the longest route possible. The further west we go and the longer the Variags must trail after us the more nervous and uncomfortable our enemy will become.”

“There are several small forests that we might plausible pass through. That will be difficult going for such a large number of men with horses unaccustomed to the terrain.” Faramir added, studying the maps. Aragorn nodded, confident that Faramir had his task well in hand.

“For myself, I will make myself useful to you two in whatever way I can but I think it important to spend time training the men. We don’t have a great deal of time but there are some combat techniques that are better suited to facing a larger enemy than what the Gondorhim are accustomed to.” Aragorn had, as Thorongil, often preached the wisdom of adapting different styles of combat to different terrain and different situations. Ecthelion had been willing to let the Captain have free rein and Aragorn had been allowed to replace the plate mail worn by rangers and soldiers with boiled leather. Before too many more changes could be implemented, however, Denethor had managed to convince his ailing father that it would be much simpler and less expensive administratively to give all Gondor’s military force the same training on the same weaponry.

“Shields and heavy armor will only impede us. I would prefer to equip the men with light arms and to make more effective use of the bow. It may be necessary to purchase some different supplies and abandon some of the more cumbersome gear.”

Faramir, who had been thrilled at the idea of learning all he could of combat from Aragorn, suddenly felt his face warm with a wave of embarrassment. “I’m afraid, my lord, that it may not be possible to reequip the men.”

Aragorn looked at him inquisitively and Halbarad raised an eyebrow—the gathering had a wide assortment of weapons and armor for sale. One could not equip an army but one could easily find supplemental gear for thirty men.

“I had Flyn give me an accounting of all the goods and moneys he had used on the Steward’s behalf. He did not bargain judiciously. We have very little left with which to barter.” Faramir, feeling small and hot, wanted very much at that moment to kick Flyn but Aragorn had started to smile.

“That is easily solved.” Moving to his pack Aragorn rummaged about a moment before holding up Gilraen’s opal necklace. “This should be worth a goodly amount of fletching at the very least.” Aragorn announced- clearly pleased- as he offered the necklace to Faramir.

“Aragorn, I…” Faramir wanted to refuse. It seemed wrong to him that Aragorn should have to sacrifice such a thing simply because Faramir had not been able to control his own Lieutenant. Looking to Halbarad for support, Faramir’s brain began to spin with myriad alternative ways of finding money. Halbarad, however, after apparently assessing the probable value of the necklace had nodded as though satisfied and turned back to the table where the maps had been laid out.

The smile was beginning to slip from Aragorn’s lips as he took in Faramir’s hesitation. Feeling defeated, Faramir allowed his lord to drop the lambent jewels into his open palm. “I shall make a list for your quartermaster of what I think is most important and we shall see how far that will go.” Aragorn commented, placing a hand on Faramir’s shoulder and squeezing affectionately. His smile had returned once Faramir had accepted the opals.

“Yes, my lord.” Faramir acknowledged dutifully, letting the pressure of Aragorn’s fingers lessen some of the disappointment he felt with himself for making the loss of Aragorn’s mother’s necklace necessary.

“If there are no more concerns, then let us be about our tasks.”

Both Halbarad and Faramir bowed, the ranger touching fingers to lips and forehead and the Captain bringing his closed fist to his breast. The discomfort of a few minutes passed was now forgotten. Faramir felt filled with confidence. Aragorn was in charge now and he would do everything that could be done. He would take care of them.

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10 Comment(s)

Ah, a story with a real plot and real character does stupid dances... I´m so thankful for that ;)
Very nice so far and I´m looking forward to learn more about Khand and our mysterios ranger xD…
Please write more and update as soon as posible.

Greetings,
Elivyan

— elivyan    Saturday 15 July 2006, 4:38    #

Have read Trial and Judgement (although the beginning of it was mangled and I have no idea how much of it I missed) and anticipate another fine story here.

— Bell Witch    Saturday 15 July 2006, 11:36    #

i’m in deep trouble now, just can’t will myself to leave the wonderful little world you created thought i should have gone back to work long time ago…totally hooked! *sigh*

— traveller    Sunday 16 July 2006, 0:28    #

Great story! Thanks for sharing it with us.

— Mandy    Sunday 16 July 2006, 23:50    #

Read through Chapter 20 in one night and then no time to finish until now. You weave a fine story with plot and character details and cultural concepts that made those first twenty chapters a butt-hurtin’ necessity. Your Halbarad is especially interesting.

Damn fine story.

— Bell Witch    Monday 17 July 2006, 4:36    #

Read this over the past couple of weeks. This is a brilliant story. Your characterizations have sploiled me for the rest of the slash world – so resplendent and nuianced, grave and sweet in their integrity. The rich community of supporting characters itself was thrilling. What I value most is the simple layered craft of each chapter. Thank you!

— stillwell    Saturday 29 July 2006, 3:09    #

Wonderful – simply wonderful. A grand story. I will look for your work always. Wonderful.

— EJ    Saturday 14 April 2007, 22:34    #

very good story. Love it. I hope you write a sequel to it.

— kijo    Monday 3 November 2008, 6:58    #

I so love your stories, please, can you gifted us with a sequel or another marvelous story ?
Thanks for sharing!

— camille    Tuesday 30 December 2008, 15:28    #

Wow, I just came across your story and spend the whole night reading it! This is one of the few really fantastic LotR stories that I have found over the years.
I love the writing style and the character developement in this piece! Somehow I love the characterisation of Flyn … while I still dislike him personally :-)
There are many more reasons why I love this story, but I cant list them all here … instead, I think, I am going to reread this story immediately after I have finished this comment :-)

Thanks for sharing it with us!
(Please forgive any misspelling. English isn’t my first language)

— Mikkalea Luna    Saturday 14 May 2011, 19:39    #

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