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Family Honor (NC-17) Print

Written by Mcguffan

14 July 2006 | 162886 words

Chapter 4

The next morning found Faramir in very good spirits. He had slept deeply and his joy at having attained such intimacy with his beloved Strider was indescribable. He had, immediately upon waking, experienced a fear that the easy friendship he had been developing with Strider on their journey would be strained or in some other way altered by the events of last night. His trepidation, however, was assuaged the instant he looked into Strider’s face and was greeted with the same gentle smile that he had grown so accustomed to seeing over the past few days. From then on, nothing could have caused Faramir the least worry or trouble.

He and Strider conversed as they usually did when the occasion permitted and the young captain found himself as fascinated as ever by the ranger. Though they had no chance to speak privately, Strider once contrived an opportunity to take his hand and squeeze it gently. This little gesture dispersed the last of Faramir’s fretfulness. The young man had half expected that during Strider’s frequent absences, either to scout ahead or now to accompany the last remaining family to their farmstead, he would be able to concentrate on nothing and be generally useless but this was not the case.

A great deal of the depression and anxiety that had been so much with Faramir that he had long since ceased to regard it, had somehow been alleviated by the ranger. To his happy surprise, then, Faramir found that not only could he concentrate on his duties but that his tasks seemed much less effortful than they had in the past. The captain who could easily obsess over trifles was more relaxed. His orders, which would often sound too tentative to command obedience were now delivered with more self-assertion. The change in him was subtle but it did not go unnoticed and all those who wished the young man well rejoiced in it.

Thus it was that, while Faramir lamented the moments that Strider was not with him, he filled that time easily enough planning how to pair up the soldiers hoping to find a way to ensure the best probability of controlling those men most likely to find trouble in Khand. He was able to discipline his thoughts and plan his strategies with more confidence than before. Once again, hope burned strong in the young captain that he could accomplish the two maind objectives of his life: to do good in the world and also fulfill the wishes of his father.


On his way back to the road after escorting the last of the families to their farmstead, Strider was reminded why he always hated traveling East. It was not so much the orcs, invisible to large groups of armed men but thick as flies on rotten meat whenever they sensed weakness, or the roving bandits preying on lone travelers. Battle did not intimidate the ranger. In all truth, Strider found a certain grim satisfaction in killing a few of the parasites that infested these lands. It was simple, easy and gratifying in a way he found troubling in his more introspective moments. No, what oppressed his spirits were the relentless, grinding poverty and desperation of the common people that was the inevitable result of marauding orcs and lawless men.

Adding to the ranger’s hopelessness was the conviction that so much of the human misery he witnessed was his fault. The weakness of Isildur carried through the generations now culminated in the impotence of his heir to care for the people. Strider knew these thoughts were dangerous. Indulging his sense of helplessness only made him vulnerable to anything that offered an easy answer. This journey was the first time, however, where he had braved the dark lord’s demesnes and been able- even for a little while- to fend off a deep melancholy. Faramir, Strider did not doubt, protected the ranger’s fragile sense of hope. The young man’s determination to do as much good as he was capable of doing, revived the ranger’s flagging spirits. As Strider’s thoughts turned to the young man he found himself smiling and increasing his pace to rejoin Faramir the faster.

Strider was very much looking forward to the evening, when he hoped to have another private meeting with Faramir. It had taken a great deal of self-restraint for Strider not to have gone further with the young man the night before. He had wanted very much to experience all the secrets of Faramir’s body at once, to feel him quivering beneath him, to listen to him moaning helplessly as he gave himself up to Strider’s complete control. The ranger, however, had wanted to take his time with Faramir. He was so very young, new born to the world, and filled with wonder and the promise of the future. Elves possessed seeming youth with their smooth skin and fair features but that was only external appearance hiding a world-weariness and an immortal’s indifference to all things transitory. Faramir, though, seemed to see the world with all its imperfections as a realm of possibility and he did not disdain small improvements. The young man deserved all the tenderness and affection he could show him and all the love he could not.

Another factor militated patience: Much to his chagrin, Strider had found himself plagued by thoughts of Denethor several moments after kissing Faramir. It had always been obvious to Strider that Faramir’s father was a strong and in many ways negative influence in the young man’s life. There were times when Strider almost imagined he could feel the aura of the Steward surround Faramir and guide his actions. Further, Denethor’s almost instantaneous dislike of Thorongil had impressed Aragorn greatly. He had taken it as portentous and even now whenever he worried about his own suitability for the throne he remembered Denethor’s hatred. Denethor enraged at Thorongil for alienating Ecthelion’s affection had become, in the ranger’s mind, Denethor enraged at Strider for seducing his son. The Steward of Gondor had nothing to do with Strider’s growing attachment to Faramir and the ranger did not wish the specter of the Steward to intrude upon them.

Thoughts of the Steward led Strider to once again consider the strange conversation he had had with Lieutenant Flyn. The man clearly intended to enter either himself or another in the fencing competition, his captain’s proscription notwithstanding. The question was why. Strider’s immediate impulse was to suspect that rumor of the `killing fist’ had found Denethor’s sharp ears and that the Steward had sponsored this expedition for the special purpose of getting his hands on it. Gandalf had not suspected that Denethor knew anything at all about the reemergence of one of the old relics. the wizard believed that Denethor accepted the stated purpose of the mission, to reach a rapprochement with Khand but Gandalf, despite his great self-knowledge was still inclined to overestimate the power of his own suggestions. Strider dismissed his suspicion, though. Denethor was more than capable of using a peace mission to conceal his desire for a weapon but Strider could not believe Faramir’s sincerity and commitment were feigned. The young man would be a poor dissembler and that, Strider/Aragorn mused, was surely an admirable characteristic.

Sighing a little as the image of his guileless Faramir appeared before him, Strider forced himself to stop day-dreaming and consider his own less altruistic mission. Gandalf had insisted that the gauntlet be retrieved. The Wizard had been so adamant that the gauntlet was important that Strider had feared a weapon of great power. To his relief, however, the rumored powers of the `killing fist’ were comparatively tame. The gauntlet could kill at a distance but only within seeing range. It could only take one life at a time. Gandalf had not known how long it would take to find a new target but as far as Aragorn understood the gauntlet was not much more dangerous than a crossbow. Further, no one had heard of the weapon being used since the first age. There was no reason to think there was any power left in the object. Argue as he would, however, Gandalf could not be swayed from the position that obtaining the `killing fist’ was vitally important.

The worst feature of the weapon seemed to be the way in which it killed. A victim could take hours to die as all his internal organs compressed as though squeezed. It sounded grizzly but it was certainly not the worst way to die in a battle. Yet, Gandalf insisted that it was not the actual damage done by the gauntlet that was to be feared but the effect it had upon the minds of the opposing army. Dread of the weapon and its wielder would sap the strength of even the most stout-hearted soldier. Men always feared magic and mystery more than they feared gangrene or a sword in the belly. This reasoning did not leave Strider entirely convinced. It was a subject upon which he would have like very much to have heard Faramir’s opinion but the ranger knew it was inappropriate to discuss the matter with the younger man.

There was, too, always the chance that Gandalf knew more than he was saying and this secret knowledge contained the real reason for the wizard apparent obsession. In the end, Strider had no choice but to trust Gandalf. The wizard’s labored ceaselessly to thwart every stratagem of the enemy and Strider could not in good conscience deny his friend help. The gauntlet would have to be obtained, then. Strider did not have Gandalf’s faith that he would win the contest. The ranger was very skilled but fencing was more than a question of skill. If he did not win, he would have to plan his next move very carefully. Whatever Gandalf said, Strider refused to have any part in stealing the gauntlet. That was too much to ask. At the bottom of the ranger’s pack, though, wrapped in a scrap of canvas, was an opal necklace that had been Gilraen’s. If need arose he would use that to barter for the gauntlet. And it would be another family treasure auctioned off to provide needful things to the once mighty line of kings.

Once again the ranger’s equanimity was threatened by these reflections upon his inability to reverse the decline, not only of his own family but of all the Dunedain. He strove to override his melancholy by reminding himself of his other reason for going east: the hunt for Gollum. If the Dunedain were not what they once were then they were at least the most formidable and versatile information gatherers in Middle-Earth. Not even Galadriel with her magic mirror knew more of what was happening in mundane politics and among the common folk than the rangers of the north. Though the majority of his kinsmen remained concentrated in the west guarding the Shire and Breeland, many spent several years traveling anonymously throughout all the kingdoms of men, sending back reports of not only the enemy’s progress but of any other fact or rumor that might conceivably be useful. While the Dunedain did not have the numbers to truly influence events they could do little things, teach the men of an isolated village how to defend themselves and their loved ones, keep the main roadways clear of bandits and maintain the stability of the world of men so that civil wars did not erupt to steel the strength of those who had to be united against a larger foe. If there was any word of Gollum in the East then Strider felt confident that reports of it would be left for him. Finally able to find a subject that offered him a measure of solace, Strider continued on his way back to Faramir’s troop.

By the time Strider returned to the Gondorhim, the soldiers had made camp. After inquiring, the ranger learned that Faramir was occupied in discussions with his lieutenants. Resolving to use his time to best advantage Strider sought a comfortable place to have a bit of stew and smoke his pipe. Watching the evening rituals of the Gondorhim camp through a haze of aromatic smoke, Strider continued to think upon the ready examples of nobility he had seen among his own rangers and among the Gondorhim while he was Captain Thorongil. This contemplation filled Strider with pride and a renewed sense of determination to meet his own obligation with all that was in him.


Within the captain’s tent Faramir surveyed his two lieutenants with a growing sense of frustration. He had called them together to show them the list of pairs he intended to divide his soldiers into when they had liberty to wander through the great gathering. Faramir had spent a fair amount of time getting to know the men under his command and he had chosen to match men based, not only on their compatibility with one another, but he had also meant to ensure that no two men were paired who would act as a bad influence on one other. The captain had not expected there would be any objection to his choices but he and his lieutenants had been in a discussion, not quite an argument, over two particular men for close to an hour.

“Gorm is a good man but he lets his temper get the better of him. Hilo tends to follow the example of his comrades whatever that example may be. I fear, I still think that pairing these two together would be most unsuitable.” Faramir repeated. He really didn’t want to be obstreperous but he did not understand why Flyn, in particular, wanted these two men together.

“I’m sorry, sir. It’s a difficult thing to explain, but when one has many years’ experience leading men, one develops an intuition about these things. Gorm and Hilo will do well together. I cannot think of another partner for either of them.” Flyn’s statement caused Faramir to color faintly. The captain did know the other men had more experience. He also knew that his father had ordered him to heed their advice. Faramir did not mind deferring but he needed some sort of explanation.

“Perhaps we should try the matches, I suggest. If a problem develops we can make a change easily enough.” Faramir hoped he was being reasonable and not making an ass out of himself but even if his judgment turned out to be wrong, he would like to know why it was wrong.

“Oh, sir, that sounds awfully risky. We don’t want to risk any offense to our eastern friends, now would we, sir.” Flyn replied. Faramir was growing to hate the way the man said `sir’. The lieutenant made it sound like what he meant was `idiot’. “Perhaps in a few more years, sir, you will grow attune to these kind of subtleties, yourself.”

Faramir struggled with himself for a few moments. Denethor had told him to trust these men. He supposed that left him no choice. Even so, Faramir would have liked to hear what Strider thought of the matter. The young captain felt certain that the ranger would be able to explain things. He couldn’t ask Strider, though. He would not whine about his command to a man whose respect he desperately wanted. Nearly defeated Faramir made one last effort and addressed the other man in the tent: “You have not had much to say in this debate, Lieutenant Gildel. How do you view pairing Gorm and Hilo?”

For a long time Gildel was silent. Finally, though, he spoke carefully avoiding eye contact as he did so. “I think the two men are well-matched. Though, your concern appears reasonable, sir, I think I must agree with Lieutenant’s Flyn’s advice.”

“Well, we shall match them then.” Faramir conceded, trying not to feel disappointed in himself for not being able to see whatever it was his officers obviously saw. “Thank you for your time gentlemen.” At this the meeting broke up. The two lieutenants exited the tent and Faramir followed them out.


“That was like pulling teeth. His lordship told the captain to do what we said. Why did he put such a fuss?” Flyn started complaining the moment the lieutenants were out of Faramir’s range of hearing. “It was not as if it should have made any difference to him who pairs with who.”

“No, except that your reasons for wanting to pair our two best swordsmen were bollix. Frankly, I’m surprised he gave in at all.” Gildel found that he liked the situation he had been put in less and less. He had nothing against Faramir and he felt that the young man was being treated rather shabbily. Orders were orders, though.

“Mm, it seems to me our young captain is getting a bit uppity.” Flyn continued, paying little attention to the other man. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the ranger has been filling his head with notions. Faramir was biddable enough before Strider turned up.”

Gildel did not bother to point out that they had not known Faramir for much more than a day before Strider had joined them. The lieutenant had learned that there was no reasoning with Flyn where it came to the ranger so he decided to let the other man have his little rant and be done.

“I wonder what his lordship would say if he knew how eager his son is to bend over for that scruffy, wild man.” Flyn mused with a mean-spirited grin. The time that the captain and the ranger spent together had not gone unobserved and Flyn was incapable of drawing any other conclusion about the relationship than that it was strictly about Faramir’s lust and Strider’s opportunism. The affection and tenderness that Faramir and Strider clearly showed for one another had irritated Flyn for some reason he could not quite articulate.

“If you tell him, I doubt he’ll thank you.” Gildel responded. While it had been abundantly clear from their first meeting with the Steward that the old man had a low opinion of his son that didn’t mean his lordship would tolerate low gossip and tale telling. Besides this was the army. If men who fought back to back chose to sleep belly to belly then it wasn’t anyone else’s business.

“No, I suppose you’re right.” Flyn replied glumly.

As soon as the conversation ended, Gildel promptly left off thinking of Strider and Faramir and any activities they may or may not be engaging in but Flyn continued to brood. The lieutenant wanted Faramir too unsure of himself to question anything Flyn did. Faramir’s job was to stay awake through the long boring sessions with the Khandrim diplomats, Flyn would see to everything else. And then there was Strider. The ranger had always been too full of himself. The idea that the two men could support and care for one another left Flyn feeling bitter and vengeful.


After leaving the tent, Faramir lost no time hailing a passing soldier. He asked if Master Strider had returned to camp, yet. When he was answered that the ranger had indeed returned and the soldier had indicated Strider’s direction Faramir had to firmly remind himself of the gravity of his position to keep from breaking into a huge grin and running to the other man.

“Hello Strider.” Faramir greeted coming up to the ranger at a pace that managed to maintain his dignity- just.

“Captain.”

Faramir tried not to shift his weight from foot to foot. “I have wine warming by the fire, if you would like to join me.”

“Thank you, that would be most welcome.” Strider answered, smiling as he came to his feet. Once again, Faramir had to exert all his self-control not to seize the man’s hand and pull Strider to the tent in a rush of unseemly haste.

“How did you find the homes and farmland you passed?” Faramir inquired, bringing Strider a cup of wine and urging the ranger to make himself comfortable.

“It was not as bad as I anticipated. Some crops were destroyed by orc fires but a lucky rain seems to have prevented total disaster. The gathering will be a boon to the people who live so near by. The presence of so many armed men will keep the orcs far away for a while, at least.” Strider answered, sipping his wine. The ranger would have been more comfortable to find a place on the ground but at Faramir’s agitated insistence he sat on one of the cushions and tried to think how best to manage the position of his over-long legs.

“Given the amount of territory controlled by the tribes, the gathering is being held fairly far west.” Faramir observed, wondering if he was making an intelligent comment or just prattling.

“All but the Variags were anxious to meet as far from Mordor as could be managed without it appearing deliberate.” Faramir nodded and for several minutes there was silence as each man sipped his wine.

“Faramir.” The sound of his name brought the captain abruptly from his thoughts. Moving silently, Strider had crossed the small distance between them and now stood looking down at the young man.

“Yes?” Faramir rose, standing face to face with Strider. The ranger reached out and drew the younger man into his arms. With a soft sigh, Faramir leaned against him and closed his arms about his waist. The ranger marveled at how perfectly Faramir fit against him, nestling into his embrace as though he belonged there and could not truly be comfortable anywhere else.

“I would like to kiss you.” Strider whispered into Faramir’s hair. “I would like to continue what we started last night, sweetheart.”

Faramir did not answer in words but he tipped his head up, smiling gently and closing his eyes. The expression of trust mixed with desire on the younger man’s face overwhelmed the ranger and he pressed his mouth firmly down upon Faramir’s. After a moment, Strider moved a hand to support Faramir’s head. Deepened the kiss the ranger showed the younger man a small measure of the dreadful passion he felt building within him.

Moaning at the pleasure the ranger’s intensity brought him, Faramir’s own hands sought Strider’s head and his fingers tangled in his hair. Relying on Strider to support the greater part of his weight, Faramir gave up all his concentration to enticing the ranger into becoming yet more forceful. The success of his strategy brought forth another moan from the young man as he found himself being slowly lowered to the ground. Strider’s weight descended upon Faramir and their kiss ended finally as the younger man panted for breath and the ranger moved so that he was covering Faramir but not crushing him.

“Strider!” Faramir cried, when he had the enough air for speech. “Oh goodness.” His mouth had gone dry and his hands had closed into fists in the ranger’s hair. Faramir was utterly swept away by the unexpected change he had just experienced, going from nervous excitement to helpless pleasure in the space of one kiss. For several seconds Faramir was torn between his own hunger to touch Strider, to learn every detail of the wonderful man on top of him, committing to memory everything from the shape of his hands to the location of each scar and his desire to simply experience all the blissful sensations the ranger was creating within him. This confusion had Faramir alternately nuzzling against Strider’s neck, running his hands over Strider’s back and shoulders and lying still, moaning softly as ecstasy rendered him powerless to move.

The harsh then suddenly gentle kisses that Strider had been lavishing upon Faramir’s throat, earlobes and temples abruptly ceased. Faramir emerging from the haze of pleasure in which the ranger’s caresses had left him frowned in concern. He wanted to ask what was wrong but the look of concentration on Strider’s face kept him silent. After another second Strider rose quickly and offered his hand to the younger man. Confused but trusting the older man implicitly, Faramir took the hand. Strider was helping him to his feet, when the sound of knuckles rapping against a shield signaled someone’s presence outside the tent. Without any more delay, the tent flap was pushed aside and Lieutenant Flyn entered.

Having prepared himself to keep his face neutral, Flyn took in the scene. The ranger was standing, regarding the interloper with an expression which, while by no means friendly, managed to be reasonably calm. Faramir, though, was on his knees apparently in the process of rising to his feet with. The captain’s cheeks were flushed and his lips swollen with kisses. In addition, his hair was mussed and his collar loose. If Flyn looked closely, he realized that signs of passion could be discerned in the ranger’s appearance also but Strider’s normally unkempt dress as well as his sun-darkened skin gave him an advantage over Faramir.

“Good evening, sir, Master Strider. I hope I am not interrupting anything.” Flyn’s voice contrived to sound apologetic and uncomfortable but it fell somewhat short. In truth, it was a little difficult for the lieutenant to conceal his disappointment that he had not interrupted the men at a more critical moment. He had even listened just outside the tent for as long as he had dared and he could have sworn he had heard heavy breathing.

Faramir felt as though he might faint. All the blood had drained from his face as soon as he took in Flyn’s presence. Strider, though, squeezed his hand gently and Faramir using the other’s presence as an emotional as well as physical anchor hauled himself to his feet. When he was up, Strider once more squeezed his hand before disengaging and moving a few paces away.

“What can I do for you, lieutenant?” Faramir asked. His voice started out rather higher than he would have liked but sounded normal again by the end of the sentence.

“Well sir, I didn’t know you were… Sir, I’m sorry. I just thought you would want to personally inspect the pickets we have put up tonight.”

As soon as Faramir had regained some of his composure Strider had politely turned to face the fire. The ranger was silently furious not only at the interruption but the obviously calculated disrespect Flyn was showing his captain. Strider would very much have liked to slice the man into bits using his eyes or voice but he resisted the temptation. He knew that he had to let Faramir handle the situation. The young captain would feel a great sense of inadequacy if Strider put Flyn in his place before Faramir had even managed to collect his thoughts.

“The placement of guards around the camp is a routine matter which I have full confidence you have the ability to manage without my supervision.” Strider silently cheered not only the words but the cool tone in which they were delivered.

“Oh, yes sir. No doubt of that. We are, though, if not exactly in enemy territory then we are certainly not in friendly territory. I hope you don’t mind if I presume to advise you, sir, but many very good commanders take a special interest in the defense of their men at such a time. I certainly don’t say that as a criticism, sir. No one, sir, expects you to start out knowing everything.

The authority and power that Strider had spent so much time learning to cloak behind the clothing and demeanor of a simple ranger threatened despite all his efforts to reveal itself. Strider desperately wanted to crush the soldier for his insolence and reduce him to a cowering heap. The older man somehow kept his temper, though, resolutely keeping his back to the scene.

Faramir quailed. Once again, the reminder that his father trusted this man’s judgment over his son’s own put doubt into the captain’s mind. Was he being remiss? He hadn’t thought so, but why else would Flyn come to him like this unless he was doing something wrong? It was true that Faramir felt himself humiliated by Flyn’s attitude but perhaps the fault did not lie with the lieutenant but rather with the incompetent captain who was not taking proper care of his men. Faramir wished desperately that Strider had not had to witness Flyn upbraid him so but perhaps Faramir deserved it. Even if this once instance of inspecting the patrol was a little trivial maybe Flyn felt he couldn’t take any chances with someone like Faramir. Maybe the lieutenant had decided to advise his captain on every possible detail to be on the safe side.

“Very well, I will be with you shortly.” To Strider, Faramir sounded like a reprimanded schoolboy and the ranger seethed with indignation.

“Oh, yes sir. I’ll wait for you. Once again, I apologize if I picked an inconvenient time to speak of duty, sir.”

When Flyn exited the tent, Faramir rushed over to Strider. The ranger turned from the fire and the younger man took his hands and murmured earnestly: “I’m so sorry. I- I didn’t mean for him to interrupt us. Perhaps, though, I should have a quick tour around the perimeter of camp. I- it’s probably not strictly necessary but- but I’m sure it is a good habit to get into and it won’t take me long.” At the end of this, Faramir raised his head to look into Strider’s face and then quickly looked down again. The anger he saw in the older man’s eyes made him tremble and he said again, very softly: “I’m sorry.”

Strider cringed inwardly at the way Faramir dropped his gaze and hunched his shoulders. It was as though the Steward’s son expected to be yelled at or, the ranger thought with a sinking stomach, beaten. Forcing all the anger, which was all for Flyn anyway from his face and voice, Strider took Faramir’s shaking hands and pressed them against his heart.

“You do your duty very well, Faramir. As you point out it may not be necessary for you to look over the camp now, your sincere concern for the safety of those in your charge does you credit. I would never expect you to neglect your duty for any reason. If, in your sound judgment, you want to take this precaution do so with no apology. I shall be here when you return.”

“You will? You won’t go?” Faramir asked aware that he sounded desperate but the anger in Strider’s face had frightened him. He wanted to ensure the ranger was truly not upset with him.

“Certainly, if you wish it.” Strider smiled gently, unable to keep the rush of tenderness he felt for the young man from his eyes as he released Faramir’s hands so that he could press a kiss to his forehead then brush back a lock of dark hair. Faramir visibly relaxed as he suddenly became very anxious to leave so that he could return the sooner.

“I will not be long.” Faramir promised, forcing himself to turn from Strider but a hand on his shoulder halted him.

Quickly Strider pulled the younger man into his arms. “Faramir, that man has only as much power as you choose to give him.” The words were whispered close to his ear and then Strider released him.

“I- I am going to speak to him.” Faramir responded and then repeated: “I won’t be long.” Before he hurried after Flyn.


Flyn and Faramir walked together in silence. Flyn felt satisfied in what he had accomplished and had no desire to push things further at the moment. Faramir had not caved in nearly as quickly as he should have and that troubled Flyn. The captain probably had not wanted to leave the damned ranger. It was as he had always suspected, Strider was a bad influence.

For his part, Faramir was organizing his thoughts. Strider had been absolutely correct. Whatever Denethor had said Faramir needed to protect a little of his own authority to be at all effective. He had let his own lieutenant walk all over him. Of course, it wasn’t Flyn’s fault. The man thought him weak but Faramir acted weak. The captain would have to try harder to demonstrate that he was worthy of respect.

The inspection of the perimeter guard took longer than Faramir liked. He wanted to be thorough, though, and Flyn was always finding new things to draw his attention for another few minutes. The better part of an hour had elapsed before Faramir found that the task was finished. During that time the two men had said no more to one another than necessity required. Now then, before Faramir allowed himself to return to Strider, was the time to talk to Flyn.

The lieutenant showed every sign of walking with Faramir all the way back to the captain’s tent but Faramir wanted to deal with Flyn before the man had the opportunity to get anywhere near Strider. Faramir halted abruptly, leaving Flyn no choice but to stop along side of him. Faramir took a deep breath and reminded himself again to be as fair and analytical as he could be.

“It seems to me that this was a task that did not require my personal attention, lieutenant.” Flyn frowned at his captain’s words. He had been taken by surprise. His plan had been to invite himself in for a drink and then to chat amiably for as long as it took for the scruffy ranger to grow bored and decide to seek out someone else to share blankets with. Flyn had certainly not expected to hear anything that sounded even faintly like a rebuke from Faramir.

“Well sir, it did look like you had something more interesting going on just then. I certainly meant no offense. But duty is duty, sir, even when there are things that one would rather be doing.”

Faramir could feel his face heat at these words but he strove to keep his voice even. “That is very true, lieutenant. Your duty, as I understand it, is to use your judgment to sift through the myriad problems and issues that arise in a military camp and present to me those that are worthy of my attention. The distribution of watches and pickets is not something that requires my daily supervision. I rely on you to oversee such routine matters on your own. If you do not feel able to use a lieutenant’s discretion expediently then that would be a matter we should discuss at greater length. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Flyn responded after a moment. Military training provided him with an answer he might not otherwise have been able to find, so utterly flabbergasted was he.

“Very well. Good night, lieutenant.” Faramir’s heart was beating fast but no sign of nervousness could be detected in him as he turned and walked on alone towards his tent.


Strider reclined upon the cushions in Faramir’s tent. His long body was stretched out a comfortable distance from the fire. His eyes had been closed but they opened instantly as soon as Faramir opened the canvas flap and entered. Faramir watched Strider’s eyes flick open and was reminded of a great cat who is ever alert even when he appears most relaxed. This imagery was greatly reinforced as Strider came to his feet with fluid grace and approached Faramir with a predatory hunger apparent in his movement and his eyes. Smiling, Faramir half expected to hear a leonine growl from the ranger as the other man took him in his arms.

“Faramir, you are quite chilled. Come by the fire and have some wine.” In the blink of an eye the hunter had become infinitely gentle. Taking Faramir by the hand, Strider led him further into the tent then left him briefly to pour him a glass of wine.

The day had been hot, almost stifling, but the night had turned bitterly cold. Faramir didn’t know if this was an effect of Sauron’s nearness or whether it was simply the natural climate but the extremes of temperature had taken all the Gondorhim by surprise. Such had been Faramir’s haste earlier that he had not even taken his cloak and he was now, as Strider said, quite chilled. In truth, he had not realized just how cold he was until he was back in the warmth.

Slightly embarrassed, Faramir kept his jaw tightly shut to prevent his teeth from chattering as he moved as close as possible to the fire. Strider, though, saw the twitching of Faramir’s muscles. The ranger realized that while some of it was no doubt due to the cold part of it was a physical manifestation of the stress of an eventful evening. The ranger guessed, though, that the ordeal with Flyn had ended well for Faramir had been smiling when he came in. As much as Strider would have liked to hear the details of whatever had passed between the captain and lieutenant he refrained from asking. It was not his place to interfere. He would support Faramir as best he could but he would not tempt the young man to discuss the details of his command with someone who was not part of the Gondorhim hierarchy.

Taking a seat by the fire, Strider pulled Faramir onto his lap and enfolded the young man in his arms. Sighing contentedly as warmth slowly infused him, Faramir nestled comfortably against the ranger. Strider smelled warm and comforting and the younger man allowed the scent of pipe smoke, leather and Strider to envelope him. The ranger kissed his hair gently and Faramir realized that he felt completely safe. In his beloved’s arms the younger man grew languorous. He loved Strider so much. He wanted to stay just like this forever…

Strider listened as Faramir’s breath slowed and evened out as the young man relaxed against him. The ranger pulled the other man more tightly against his chest, savoring for the hundredth time how easily- even happily Faramir accepted his touch. Strider could not do otherwise than love the man resting so securely in his arms. He was so lovely and he possessed such a lively, curious mind that seemed somehow to have escaped the corrosive cynicism that plagued Denethor’s keen intellect. The fact that Faramir could be who he was given that Denethor’s was his father astonished Strider. It meant that despite his lack of confidence Faramir had a deep and abiding strength of character. Stroking the younger man’s hair, Strider allowed himself a moment to imagine what it would be like to always have Faramir in his life.


Sighing deeply, Faramir twisted a little on Strider’s lap until he was able to put his arms around the ranger’s neck and kiss him softly on the lips. “Thank you for staying.” Strider did not answer the younger man in words. Instead he took Faramir’s head in his hands and gave him a slow and very thorough kiss.

“I think I must have dozed off for a moment.” Faramir announced as he squirmed a little, stretching his arms before settling contentedly once again in Strider’s lap.

“That is entirely possible.” Strider conceded fondly, nipping the younger man’s ear.

“I dreamed of you.”

“Was it a good dream?” Strider asked soothing the tiny bite with little sweeps of his tongue.

“Yes, it was about you.” Faramir confirmed trying not to giggle as Strider’s warm breath tickled his wet skin.

“Tell me your dream.” Strider said, his voice amused and half curious while he began moving down Faramir’s neck biting softly.

“You were standing at the end of a long corridor.” Faramir complied readily, lifting his chin a little to give the ranger better access to his throat. “I knew that it was you but I could not see your face. You started moving towards me and as you came closer I could see a light, twinkling like a star on your brow. That was all, but it was a very lovely-” Faramir stopped speaking as he realized that Strider had gone very still.

“Faramir, I have to go.”

“I don’t understand. What has happened? What is wrong?” Unconsciously Faramir had taken hold of Strider’s shirt and pressed himself against the other man in a desperate effort to keep him with him.

“It is not something, I am at liberty to explain. I- I don’t want to go. If I consulted only my own wishes I would remain with you but I have been reminded that my choices are not entirely my own. I have to think. I will see you tomorrow.” As he spoke the ranger carefully extricated himself from Faramir, lifting the younger man from his lap with obvious reluctance.

“Have I done something wrong? Please, I’m sorry. Let me make amends.” Faramir pleaded.

“This is not your fault, Faramir.” Strider said earnestly taking hold of the younger man’s shoulders and forcing him to meet his eyes. “It is mine. You are wonderful. I care about you deeply but I must think.” Strider repeated. He felt panicked, Faramir was far too perceptive. The ranger did not dare risk what further revelations greater intimacy with the Steward’s son might bring forth. Turning abruptly to escape the helpless, miserable look in Faramir’s eyes, Strider drew upon a lifetime’s worth of training overcoming his own desires and walked briskly away.

“Don’t go, please. I love you.” Faramir finally whispered to the now empty tent before collapsing to his knees, grief-stricken and alone.

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/family-honor. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!


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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