Faramir Fiction Archive

Four Journeys (NC-17)

Written by Fawsley

01 September 2005 | 34096 words

Part 3: Aragorn's journey

Fourth Age, late Spring 03

Aragorn had shouted at Faramir. Unnecessarily. Shouted in anger and tiredness at the end of a particularly protracted and profitless council meeting. Publically insulted his steward.

He felt terrible.

When his temper had subsided and his head had stopped throbbing he'd gone looking for his victim to apologise, but Faramir was nowhere to be found within the city. Instead, Aragorn had ended up drinking with Imrahil whose selective deafness, so evident during the fraught meeting, appeared to have improved dramatically. He enjoyed the company of the prince who stood on no ceremony with his king yet whose loyalty, devotion and respect were, Aragorn knew, absolute. It was a refreshing relationship.

'I *must* apologise for my behaviour...' he had moaned

'A king can shout at whomsoever he likes. Denethor also did his share of shouting.'

'Usually at Faramir.'

'Hmm. Well, the pup certainly deserved it often enough. The both of them. Appalling behaviour.'

Aragorn chose not to pursue Imrahil's remark, though it only served as confirmation of what he already knew about his steward, a secret knowledge which offered a dark thrill.

'Prince Faramir in no way deserves what I did to him today. He is the most excellent of stewards. I could not wish for more from any man.'

'Well you certainly get an easier time of it with him than you would have done from young Boromir!'

'I believe that Boromir would have accepted me as his king.'

Aragorn kept his reasons for this belief to himself. He had shared that secret with only one other, the one he would share all his secrets with.

'Do you really think he would have acknowledged you? Given up the rule of Gondor to some upstart northern ranger just like that? I knew him better than you, he was headstrong, arrogant. No, you'd have had your hands full with him, my lad, mark my words.'

'Which is why I am so grateful for the steadfast support I receive from Faramir, why I need to find him and to apologise.'

'He's always been a problem, that one.'

Aragorn smiled to himself at Imrahil's ability to blow hot and cold.

'You have no idea where he might have gone?'

'No idea, none at all. Always a problem. Far too much elf in him I reckon. Sometimes even think I've seen a star on his brow. Any more wine?'

Despite his anguish, Aragorn laughed to himself, knowing that it was Imrahil's side of the family that had brought elvish blood to the wild and mysterious mixture that was Faramir. Imrahil's blustering was, like his deafness, intermittent. Aragorn knew the prince had a keen grasp on what went on around him which why he was still so important a member of the council, though Imrahil's son Amlachil would surely beg to differ. And he too had seen something elvish shimmering on Faramir's brow. There was a deepness about his steward that the king yearned to unlock.

'Imrahil, I am much concerned for Faramir. Not just because of my shouting at him, though that was bad enough.'

He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing.

'He seems so...withdrawn. It feels like he's shut out everyone and everything, almost as if he is frozen. I cannot reach him anymore. I think that is partly why I shouted at him, from frustration. I watch him and he seems so changed. There has been so much sorrow, so much loss in his life, that he has been able to bear it is a wonder, and for so long he has. But now, now I feel as if I am losing him. I don't know why, I don't know what has happened. And I cannot bear to lose him, Imrahil.'

The prince regarded his king carefully, weighing his words.

'Hmm. Éowyn leaving was a mixed blessing, of course...'

'Your meaning?'

'Oh, she was much like my sister Finduilas. Remember her? I never can recall where you fit in these days. I saw the same pain in her eyes. Hated Minas Tirith, longed for open spaces, wildness, wind in her hair... Oh dear!'

A tear ran from a crinkled eye.

'Never forgave Denethor for breaking her heart. Should have let her come back to Dol Amroth. At least the pup did the decent thing. Knew what was happening. Saw his mother in the girl, let her go. Girl hated all this stone, wanted some wood around her. Hated Emyn Arnen too, cooped up under the mountains, not on them, you see. Nice little hunting lodge though, if you ask me. Tried to escape in other ways, that attempt to be a healer for instance. Never going to work, no real patience. Was doing it for herself, not others.

Now she's free and she'll come and go as she pleases. At least the child ties her with Faramir. Good job there was an heir before she went off. But she'll be happy now and grateful. Weight off the pup's mind I think, in the end. But sad too, of course.'

'There are other weights on his mind, Imrahil. I would that I might help him, ease his sorrows, whatever they may be. But he is so far away from me now. And I do not know where he has gone.'

Imrahil was not surprised to see tears on Aragorn's cheek. He filled their goblets and waited.

'There seems no life in his eyes anymore. Ever they were bright, brilliant. And he smiles not. I watch his face yet there is no trace of joy. It grieves me Imrahil, more than you can know, it grieves me.'

Aragorn paused. Imrahil watched and waited.

'When he first awoke in the Houses of Healing, when I called him back from the darkness, it was as if a bright light pierced my soul and I was glad, my heart was filled with a joy I not known before. He is beautiful beyond compare and I love him Imrahil, so very deeply do I love him, but I do not know how to help him.'

The king was openly weeping. Imrahil knew he now had to speak, yet these were difficult words.

'Aragorn, look at me lad, and listen with your heart as well as your head. How do you love him? I mean, is it beyond his being your steward and your friend? Do you *want* him, want him as a lover? He’s not the only one to end up with a mess of a marriage. It might not be an easy course, though not the first time of course - king and steward together you know - but if you truly love the pup...'

Aragorn let the tears fall as he tried to control his breathing. He could not fight both at once, and he needed his breath to speak.

'I do love him truly, Imrahil. And I would love him more, much more if he would only let me. I would love him with my heart, my soul, and yes, with my body also.'

Aragorn ended on a whisper.

'Hmmm. Thought as much. You said before that you didn't know what has happened to Faramir recently but I think that you deceive yourself. I've seen you watching him. Expect he has too. And if so then he'll know what you're thinking. He's not stupid, you know.'

Faramir was, Aragorn thought, one of the least stupid people he had ever met.

'The pup's been badly scalded. Never forget that. He's lost everyone and everything he's ever cared for. His world changed whilst he was lost in the darkness. When you pulled him back everything was different. Denethor gone mad, tried to kill the lad and then killed himself, the Pelennor ravaged, city almost lost, half his comrades slaughtered, war won, Sauron defeated, lost king returned, no more ruling stewards. And he missed out on half of the battles. Sometimes I've wondered whether I did the right thing bringing him back half-alive from that mad death-charge. No wonder he went off with the first pretty girl he set eyes upon. Natural reaction. Wrong one, of course. Now she's gone too, for better or worse, and taken the child with her.

'He's hurt, Aragorn, incredibly badly hurt. If he's seen you looking at him the way you have been doing - and if I can see from your eyes what you want from him, then don't doubt it he can see it too - he's probably terrified. Desperately needs a bit of love, terrified that he'll lose it again and end up even more scarred. Probably taking it all out on that body-servant of his. So he's put up all his defences, won't let you nor anyone else in. He's a soldier, after all. What can you expect, poor lad? And then you go and yell at him! He's no doubt totally confused. Won't know if you love him or hate him now, whether he wants you or not. And of course, he'll never get over Boromir. Wherever he is, he's gone to hide like a wounded animal. And if he doesn't want to be found then he won't be. Damned good ranger, you know, one of the best.'

Aragorn refilled Imrahil's goblet, contemplating both the spoken and unspoken words that had passed between them.

'Should I seek him or wait for him to come back? If I just wait...'

'Let you sort that one out for yourself, my lad.' Imrahil drained his wine in one draught.

'An early bed for me, I think. Getting old, aching bones, not what I was you know.'

The prince unfolded his always amazingly tall body and Aragorn rose to embrace his friend.

'Prince Imrahil, words can not express my gratitude for your candour, your understanding. You are Prince Faramir's closest relative. I should ask for your blessing.'

The prince knelt to kiss his king's ring, blustered once more then headed towards the door. Aragorn turned to the open casement, watching the bright stars and wondering where Faramir was, whether he too was watching the stars. Then Imrahil was back at his shoulder, urgent, concerned.

'Aragorn! If what you wish comes to pass, then remember this. Faramir, well, in his past, urm...he was, let us say, uninhibited. I don't know all of it and I don't want to. No-one knows all of it now, only himself of course. But...well, there was deep depravity, violence,...sordid, shocking, shocking... They probably would have ended up killing each other eventually. I can only warn you - there's a hidden streak in him that may yet be dangerous.'

Imrahil again turned to go, again returned.

'And Aragorn, whatever you do don't hurt the pup. He needs to be loved but he can't take any more pain. He's my sister's child and I love him for that, see her in him many a time, many a time... I beg of you, don't break *his* heart as well.'

Then he was gone, taking the rest of the wine with him.

Aragorn could not sleep.

Faramir's absence ate at him, as did his own inability to find him and the realisation that he knew so little about the man he professed to love, did not know where Faramir's bolt-hole might be. The gatewardens had earlier assured him that Faramir had not left the city, but the man was a ranger and in truth would have been able to slip out of anywhere unseen if he so desired. Aragorn forced himself to lie still and concentrate, attempt to put himself in Faramir's position, try to think like him, to do what he might do.

In the end the answer came so easily that Aragorn was up and dressed and out of his chamber before he fully realised what he was doing or where he was going. It was good to be wearing his old ranger gear again, however worn and dishevelled it might be, though why he had it on he was not quite clear. Perhaps because he was going to seek another ranger. It was a second skin, one that had seen him through too many battles to now be recalled and this latest foray, though very different, would be no less a trial than any he had faced during the War of the Ring. The danger might not be physical this time, but there were two hearts in danger of great hurt.

The door to the antechamber was unlocked, though hidden by a thick curtain so that many now probably walked past forgetting that the entrance was there at all. Aragorn closed the door silently behind him and was in total darkness. Now all he had to do was wait.

At last, at long last, the inner door opened and closed and Aragorn was no longer alone in the darkness. There was a moment's pause.

'My liege.'

It was a statement, not a question. Aragorn could not see his steward nor surely could he be seen, yet Faramir knew he was there.

'How long have you been out here?'

'Long enough for the cold to eat into my bones. I did not feel it was right to disturb you, so I waited. I looked for you all day. I came to apologise, Faramir. I'm sorry for what I said. It was unforgivable.'

'Then I take it that you are not expecting me to forgive you?'

Aragorn rose with difficulty, stretching his aching limbs. Where was Faramir in this darkness?

'I wanted to find you. I didn't want you to hate me. What I said was unnecessary and I have no excuse. I'm sorry, Faramir.'

'How did you know where I was?'

'I didn't. Not at first. I looked everywhere but had no idea where you had gone. Thought you might even have left the city. I ended up spending the evening drinking with Imrahil. He had no ideas either so I went to bed but was too upset to sleep. Angry with myself and my behaviour, angry that I'd insulted you. Annoyed that I didn't know you well enough to find you. Furiously angry because I hurt you when I love you so very much. I should have told you that rather than shout at you. Should have told you ages ago.'

There. He'd said it. But there was no reaction. Aragorn continued, desperate for some voice in the darkness.

'Then suddenly it was obvious. So here I am. You missed supper. I raided the kitchens on the way here, there's a big basket of food and wine if you want some.'

A low grumble from Faramir's stomach answered.

'Not here, not here...' he whispered and Aragorn's heart bled for him.

More aware now of where Faramir was standing, Aragorn stepped towards him, reaching out into the darkness. His hand made contact with cloth, with body heat, identified an arm, and snaked around to take his steward into an awkward but gentle embrace that was not spurned.

'I called you out of the darkness once before, Faramir. Don't let it take you again, I beg of you. I love you. By the Valar, I need you. Don't let go, please.'

'Not here...'

Faramir twisted gently out of Aragorn's grasp and headed towards the outer door of what had once been Boromir's antechamber.

It had been a strange candlelit meal, taken on a stone bench on a cold balcony looking east towards Faramir's home in Emyn Arnen, no hint of dawn yet beyond the mountains. Faramir was at first almost silent and Aragorn tried not to press him to talk if he did not so desire, just to have found him and to be with him should be enough, though restraining himself was so very difficult. He was aware that he had perhaps already said too much but having held back for so very long, he was now finding it almost impossible not to pour out the story of his overwhelming love for Faramir.

When the steward did speak, his words were the last that Aragorn expected to hear.

'Éowyn is with child again.'

Aragorn nearly choked on his mouthful, had to cough hard before he could respond.

'How? When? Is it yours?'

Faramir nodded.

'It is mine, she assures me and I believe her. When? During my last visit to Edoras. How? By the usual method.'

'You still *lie* with her?'

Aragorn found himself strangely disturbed by the thought, almost jealous, and there had been something like anger in his voice.

'Éowyn remains my wife, though we are parted. There is still some kind of desire between us at times. Did my liege not also lay with the Queen when she was last here, yet long now she tarries in Lothlorien with your son and the last of her kind?'

Almost insubordinate, but Aragorn knew he deserved the riposte and that he must answer.

'Arwen... Arwen and I... Yes, with ourselves also there is desire at times, though since Eldarion was born the times have been few. Arwen is still elfkind and has found the love of a man, the body and needs of a man, difficult to understand. Despite her long years she was quite innocent when she first came to me. I... I asked things of her I should not, things she found distasteful... '

Aragorn's pale blue eyes met Faramir's grey ocean-depths and there was sadness and understanding between them, perhaps a hopeful acknowledgement of a future intimacy where no words would be needed.

'I too asked things of Éowyn which she could not fulfil... for her to take me in her mouth...to let me enter her as a man enters another man...'

Faramir's head was bowed and his voice but a hoarse whisper.

'She was disgusted. I thought that living amongst rough horsemen she would know. I would have used my body-servant alone for such purposes, but she was horrified by his presence as well. They have no such practice in Rohan. She demanded that he be sent away, so then there was no outlet for my needs and I tried to vent them upon Éowyn. I should have bought myself a whore rather than use her like that.'

Aragorn was obviously distressed at these words.

'I did not know. I should have been there for you, Faramir, for whatever you wanted from my body.'

Faramir looked up, startled.

As soon as he had spoken Aragorn regretted his words, knew that he must not push Faramir any more quickly than he wished to go or once more his steward might retreat in fear.

'Forgive me. I should not have spoken.'

Faramir did not acknowledge Aragorn's words, only gazed at him with a look the king could not yet fathom, a terrifying mixture of pain and desire and despair. Long moments passed before Faramir spoke again.

'I grieve for Éowyn. I wish we could have found pleasure in each other's bodies, but I am, I believe, like my brother, destined to find true fulfilment only with other men. The touch and taste of another man... That is a joy I can never tire of, something for which I ever hunger.'

Aragorn was greatly aroused and dared not meet his companion's eyes. Could Faramir not sense what his words were doing to him? He was, Aragorn supposed, paying him back for his own unguarded, provocative speech. The king's prick was hard and aching for his steward to suck until it exploded its rich salt cream within his mouth. Desperately he fought to regain control of both himself and the situation. He picked at the remains of their supper, trying to change the subject.

'What happened to your body-servant?'

'Edrill? I provided for him and recalled him when Éowyn left. He has been with me for many years now and is loyal, almost a friend, though I find increasingly that he cannot satisfy me, that the gratification of my lust is not enough, that I need something more. And I am only just coming to know what that need is.'

Aragorn placed a gentle yet shaking hand upon Faramir's arm. It was taking every ounce of his strength to restrain himself, yet restrain himself he must.

'Faramir, you know that I love you. Should you need me, should you need my love, I will be waiting for you. And I am prepared to wait.'

'I know. Please, give me time.'

'You have all the time you need.'

When they reached Faramir's chamber they had stood before the closed door unspeaking and Aragorn had known that he could not demand entrance. He had embraced his steward once more, firmly yet gently holding the man to him as he had so often wished to do as the long moments passed, burying his head in Faramir's long soft hair, nuzzling his face against the coarser beard.

'Faramir, you smell of sweet herbs and meadow grass and summer rain' he had murmured, inhaling deeply.

'And you smell of old leather and pipeweed and too much wine. It gave you away in the darkness.'

'A most excellent ranger!'

Aragorn had held Faramir's face close to his own, kissed his brow, then stood forehead to forehead, glorying in being so close to the man he adored.

'I wish you'd release that body-servant of yours and chain me in his place.'

Aragorn laughed gently as he spoke, but both men knew that he did not jest.

Faramir did not move within the king's embrace and at last Aragorn whispered again - 'Goodnight, my sweet prince' - and their lips had met in the most tentative of kisses.

'Goodnight, my lord king. You will allow me the time I need to think?'

Aragorn had nodded sadly and released what he wanted to hold forever and turned to leave, had walked slowly away without turning, aching to be called back.

But Faramir was not yet ready to call.

Amongst the council members only Imrahil guessed at the real reason for the cancellation of all meetings for the next month. Nor was he surprised to receive a personal morning visit from the king shortly after the message had reached him.

'Found him then? Where had he got himself to?

'I'll let you sort that one out for yourself.'

'Where's he now?'

'In bed. Hopefully asleep. And *no*' - the last in response to a querying look on Imrahil's face - '*nothing* has yet happened between us, though we have had long and intimate speech together. He knows my feelings, what I desire, how much I need him. But I promised you that I would not hurt him. I love him, Imrahil, he is more precious to me than all the mithril of Moria, but the decision lies with him now and I will never force him into anything he does not want.'

'Good, good. That's as it should be. Well, I think I'll be off back to Dol Amroth for a while. Could do with a bit of sea air. Amlachil will enjoy taking my place on the council when it resumes, about time he learned to do some work. And the pup won't want his old uncle around breathing down his neck whilst his king tries to seduce him, will he?'

Aragorn thought that he would be quite as happy to be seduced as to be the seducer.

'Let me know if Amlachil causes any trouble. Always a problem, that one.'

It was in fact almost three weeks later that Imrahil had finally departed one fine morning as the sun rose. Amlachil had eagerly bid his father farewell, glad to be at last left alone to represent Dol Amroth at the White City, hurrying back to the Citadel to study a stack of parchments ready for the next council meeting.

'Too keen, that one. Always a problem' muttered the prince.

With all meetings cancelled and a general holiday declared, it was the first time Aragorn and Faramir had met since their parting embrace in the night. The steward had kept his own secret company and Aragorn had known that he must now wait, must not pursue or pressure Faramir. The days had seemed a lifetime. Aragorn had been unable to focus on anything he tried to do, had ridden his horse fast and far, had spent many hours at the fencing school practising his technique, had tried to read through dusty piles of neglected histories from the archives, had ended up smoking and drinking far too much, regretting it afterwards. Driven mad by the waiting, he knew only the image of Faramir and the desperate hope of his coming to him.

They had exchanged the normal chaste kiss of greeting, had held each other briefly as king and steward always did when they met, and rivers of fire had run through Aragorn's trembling body at their touch. Did Faramir feel the same? He dared not search his steward's eyes for an answer, scared of what he might see and equally of what he might not see, scared of throwing himself wantonly into his beloved's arms. Then he held Imrahil in an embrace of farewell, and once more whispered thanks for the prince's kindness and generosity of spirit.

'Pup's changed. Standing taller than he was. Glint in his eye again. You're good for him, my lad. Remember your promise - don't hurt him or I'll be down on you with all my warriors. And don't let him hurt you. He may be a grown man but there's something wild in him still.'

*Always a problem, that one. Too much elf in him* Aragorn added to himself.

Then Imrahil embraced and spoke to his nephew, mounted his great patient horse and rode slowly out towards the southern gate of the Pelennor. King and steward were left alone.

'You look tired, my liege.'

'Too much wine.'

'And pipeweed?'

Aragorn nodded ruefully. Faramir paused for a moment before continuing

'I had thought, as the wind is warm and the sun promises to be so kind, to ride out towards the river and find a place to swim. There is a certain secluded island... Perhaps such a venture might help clear my king's mind? Might ease his body?'

The last was added almost under Faramir's breath and Aragorn was unsure whether he had indeed caught the words or imagined them, yet found it hard not to let the overwhelming joy he felt from flooding his face.

'A most excellent suggestion which I shall be most glad to accept. My steward is ever attentive to my needs. Let us meet at the stables in, say, an hour?'

They had made their separate ways back to the Citadel and the early risers were astonished to see their king sprint past them grinning like a madman.

Faramir had guided them to a deep tributary of the Anduin and pointed out a verdant islet further downstream before urging his horse into the fast-flowing waters.

'We must start to cross from here. The current will push the horses towards the island. It's dangerous but don't worry, I've done it before many times. Let Fanuilos lead so that Roheryn will know to follow her.'

Aragorn trusted Faramir implicitly but even so was concerned at the depth and strength of the river. Roheryn appeared much more confident, watching and copying Fanuilos's crossing so that horses and riders came safely ashore upon the secret isle. The horses were quickly unsaddled, the damp saddle-blankets shaken and spread out to dry, then the beasts freed of their bridles and loosed to wander at will.

Aragorn looked in amazement at the place to which he had been brought. The curve of a little bay interrupted the current creating an ideal bathing spot, whilst inland a natural amphitheatre girdled by ancient mossy trees held a meadow of long soft grasses and sweet flowers. The warm air was full of birdsong, the bright flash of butterflies and the hum of contented insects.

'This is beautiful' he whispered 'I never knew it was here.'

'Few do, if any. The crossing is not possible if you don't know exactly where to start. I found it by accident years ago, trying to cross the river and getting caught in the current. I ended up here.'

Aragorn wanted this to be their own private paradise.

'Did you come here often with Boromir?'

Faramir smiled and shook his head.

'No, never. This was always my secret place. And now it is ours.'

'I am thankful that it was not here that you secreted yourself the other night, or I would never have found you.'

Faramir had a certain crooked smile that he used but rarely, yet now it flashed across his face.

'Did you not know that I *wanted* you to find me, Aragorn?'

Then he was tearing off his clothes as he stumbled back towards the river.

'Come on! We came here to swim! Come *on*!' and with a splash he was gone.

Aragorn undressed with more care, stretching his naked body in the healing sunlight, knowing that he need not rush.

It was only when they were lying damp and tired amongst the flowers that Aragorn was able to see properly the wonder of Faramir's nakedness. It was breathtaking. He felt as it he had been hit. Faramir was Aragorn's ideal of physical beauty. The curve of his long limbs, the smooth intersecting planes of his muscles, the soft hair darkened from the water and clinging to shimmering skin. Aragorn ached to touch him, to convince himself that Faramir was truly real. Every battle-scar was an adornment. Other marks, fresh marks, were upon that body also, the origins of which Aragorn did not know but could guess. He would not enquire of them yet. And the might that lay between Faramir's legs, for that he yearned with every fibre of his body.

'Often have I vowed that I would gladly renounce my kingdom just to lie naked next to you' he murmured.

The reclining god turned and smiled sweetly at him.

But first there were things he must tell Faramir, and Aragorn was afraid.

Should he have told before? But when? He was sure now that Faramir was ready, whether to take or be taken he was uncertain - it mattered not - but to have brought Aragorn here to this magical place, to be lying here naked with him, surely now Faramir felt ready to reciprocate his love. He sensed that Faramir had had to defeat many dragons in order to be able to accept this mutual love. It had been a difficult journey for him, but now he was so close. There was one more turning along the road, a last secret to be shared. If Aragorn did not speak now then it would be too late. He had to let Faramir know all he knew.

'Faramir, there is something that perhaps I should have told you long ago, or perhaps I should not have told you until now. I do not know. It is hard for me to say and will be hard for you to hear. Forgive me if I have done wrong.'

Faramir was concerned at Aragorn's anguish, sat up and placed a comforting hand upon his king's shoulder.

'What is it? Tell me.'

Aragorn drew a deep breath. Where to start?

'Long have I wished to tell you of Boromir's ending.'

Faramir did not move.

'He died in my arms, Faramir.'

'I know that.'

'Yes. But you do not know all. I have not told you of his last words.'

'He acknowledged you as his king. You shared that secret with me and I have told no other.'

There was puzzled emotion in Faramir's voice.

'Yes, yes he did.'

Aragorn signed before continuing

'But that was not the very last that he spoke. I have told no-one of his final words. They are for you alone. I'm sorry I could not tell them to you before. Faramir, he died with your name on his lips. There was no pain. The darkness had begun to take him and he did not know where he was. I kissed him on the brow, and he thought I was another, thought I was you. "Ah my beloved!" he said "Kiss me! Kiss my mouth!"

‘So I kissed him chastely, but he was not satisfied. "Little brother, my sweet dark lover, my secret torment, *kiss* me Fara, as you ever would when I took you!" He arched up to meet my lips and kissed me deeply, our tongues entwined. It was a kiss of passion such as I have never known before or since. He called your name once more and smiled as life left him.'

Faramir was weeping gently, yet a smile crept across his face. Now it was Aragorn's arm that sought to offer comfort.

'Thank you. Thank you for telling me. It was the right time to do so. Thank you for being there for him. For us. He is ever with me, you know, even now.'

'Faramir I know that I can never replace Boromir nor would I seek to do so. But my love for you runs deep and true. If you will accept me then I am gladly yours.'

'It does not dismay you, the love between brothers that should never be? We broke one of the great prohibitions of Gondor. And you are Gondor's king.'

'No, do not fear that I should regard your love for Boromir as abhorrent, for remember that I was raised not in Gondor but in Imladris where such shame is unknown. My own elven foster-brothers, Lord Elrond's sons, were my first lovers, not that Elrond or indeed Arwen ever knew of it. Since then I have lain with men and women and elves, yet it has always been for the touch of a man, for the strong bodies and passions of my fellow warriors, that my body has ached. And you are the greatest of my warriors.

'Like you, sweetest Faramir, it is with men that my desires are fully realised. Boromir was magnificent and I wanted him, but I did not then know that the brother of whom he ever spoke with joy was also his lover. When I learned that from his own lips, I felt instinctively that it was good and right. And when you first opened your eyes to me in the Houses of Healing, when I too saw what Boromir had so loved, then truly I understood his love and I loved you also. I have been in your thrall since that moment and my love has only grown.'

Faramir was quiet with thought for a moment.

'It is hard to love again, Aragorn, when I have loved so greatly. And to have loved my own kinflesh from childhood, nothing can be quite the same after that. Boromir was my entire world. He owned my heart, my soul and my body. We were two but we were one. When we lay together it was as if I was taking myself, being taken by myself, and he felt the same.'

Aragorn dropped his head in silent sorrow. Was this the rejection he had dreaded?

'And yet, that it is not the same means not that it is less, only different. And if a man can love his own brother, then surely he can also love his king. It has been a difficult journey for me to come to understand this, and I have faltered so very badly along the way, but I know now that it is right.'

'You are sure?'

Aragorn's voice trembled and there were tears in his eyes as he raised his head.

'Most sure, my liege.'

Faramir came close, his tongue licking away a falling tear before kissing Aragorn gently on the eyes.

'I love you Aragorn. Love you and want you and can foresee no end to my desire. I accept that now, as I accept also your love for me. You are my king and my friend, and now my lover. I am glad to give myself to you.'

Faramir's lips moved to his king's mouth, claiming it with slow intensity, pouring all his desire and devotion into the act, submitting, accepting, promising, taking. Every skill he knew with lips and tongue was called upon in that one kiss, and when they broke apart Aragorn was trembling and there were tears in his eyes.

'Thus it was that Boromir kissed me' he whispered in awe, before Faramir claimed his mouth again.

Still astonished that so much of what he so desired had truly come to pass, Aragorn sat holding his steward in his arms, gazing at him in awe.

'Faramir, you are wondrous to behold. Do you taste as delicious as you look?'

'I don't know. Why don't you find out?'

For a moment Aragorn could not move. This pause before he made love to Faramir for the first time was so sublime he wanted to make it last as long as he could. Then he leaned in closer. Faramir did not protest, allowing himself to be gently lowered onto his back as the king began to explore. Aragorn's mouth closed over each part of Faramir's body, his kisses barely breaths, his moist tongue but a whisper, his voice low and seductive, his fingers spinning fire over Faramir's skin.

The steward's eyes were closed and his breathing shallow as slowly, gently Aragorn's mouth moved down, his tongue tracing a silver trail over the firm belly, following the line of darkening hair until it met the musk of his steward's groin. Faramir's twisted hands tore up clumps of grass at the pleasure Aragorn was subjecting him to, his breaths now ragged and erratic.

'Your skin tastes divine, my love, but it is upon your seed that I would feast.'

The king's voice was a low hiss composed entirely of lust.

Faramir bucked and was enveloped by the hot wetness that so desired him. Slowly Aragorn took the full length, opening his throat, his lips tight around the shuddering girth, tongue stroking, caressing, urging Faramir to fill him. Firmly he pulled back so that only the very tip of the head was between his lips, tonguing the slit gently, before once more swallowing all he could take, fingers cupping Faramir's balls, kneading and pulling gently, then one saliva-dripping finger reaching to circle and press at the hidden opening between the strong buttocks, his other hand was working at his own cock.

Witnesing Faramir totally abandon himself to the pleasure he was being offered was the most enthrallingly sight Aragorn had ever beheld. The steward's body reacted to even the slightest flick of tongue or finger, jerking and shuddering, whilst long deep moans of wanton lust filled the warm air, hands wandering over his own torso, cruel fingers pinching and pulling at his own nipples.

Again and again Aragorn pulled back, holding the thick cock's throbbing swollen head gently between his teeth whilst he teased it with the softest touches of his tongue, only to lunge forward to take Faramir once more deep into his throat, with each lunge pushing his fingers further into that most secret of places, seeking out the spot that would bring the writhing man to his climax, probing and stroking until he knew the moment had come, knew that he too was on the brink of a spectacular orgasm.

Pulling back whilst his fingers pushed ever harder he whispered - 'Quench my thirst for you, my steward' - and once more took Faramir into his mouth to drink of the spurting seed, Aragorn moaning, filling his own hand as they came together.

'I am under the most strict instructions,' Aragorn murmured as Faramir slowly and softly covered his throat and chest with licks and kisses '*not* to break your heart. Not that I would, anyway.'

Faramir sat up, curious. For a moment all thoughts of further seduction were pushed aside. Both knew they had plenty of time.

'Whose instructions?'

'Imrahil's.'

'He *knows*?!'

'I think he knew what was happening before we did. Perhaps it is from his blood that you gain your ability to read your fellow men so well. Like him, you see much, store it up in that wise head of yours. I have his blessing, by the way.'

'Is that what he was saying to you before he left?'

'He confirmed it. We had already spoken. Today he said that I was good for you but warned me that you might be a dangerous lover. What did he say to you?'

'Something similar, although of course then I did not understand his meaning. He said you were always a problem...'

'Too much elf in him!'

Laughing, they chorused Imrahil's words together.

'I have had an elf in me.' Faramir grinned as he glanced sidelong to see what Aragorn's reaction might be.

'Of what do you speak? You have had an elven lover? Tell me!'

And so Faramir proceeded to tell of his mysterious encounters with the nameless elf. Unlike Boromir, who had been so aroused by the story, Aragorn was visibly shaken.

'This is a tale beyond reckoning! I do not dare to think who your lover may have been. Only the most ancient and noble of elven lords are so adorned!'

Aragorn's face was creased with thought.

'And yet, and yet it explains so many things...'

'What things?'

'You say that it felt as though both light and life were poured into you.'

'Indeed. What of it?'

'Faramir, there is a fay air about you that the thin elvish blood of your descent alone, even the blood of Dol Amroth, does not suffice to explain. I believe that your have been somehow enriched. Imrahil has seen it too. Both he and I have thought we have discerned a star upon your brow, sometimes in council meetings when your emotions run high... And, just now, when you filled my mouth so sweetly...' Aragorn bent to kiss his beloved gently 'again I saw a clear light shine forth.'

'I knew nothing of this!' Faramir was clearly as amazed as Aragorn himself. 'You said that many things were explained. Is there more?'

'I believe there is. When did this happen? How old were you when the elf took you?'

Faramir had to think hard for a while. So much had happened to him it was now difficult to calculate an exact date.

'I must have been, oh, not more than twenty-two or three. Why?'

'And how old are you now?'

'I near forty, as you well know. What is your meaning?'

'Nearly forty, and yet your body is as strong and supple, your skin as smooth, your beauty as intoxicating, as that of a man nearly half your age. Have you never wondered at this marvel?'

Faramir shook his head.

'I believed I was but lucky that the years had yet to take their toll.'

Aragorn held his hand as he continued to speak, words which fell from his lips almost as if he were in a trance-like state, full of magic and mystery.

'Beloved, your beauty ever astounds me as, I believe, it astounded the elven lord. I think he saw in you the lost loveliness of Valinor itself, was entranced by it and could not bear to let it diminish and be lost. He has given you great gifts. An elven star shines upon your brow and you are blessed by a beauty that fades but slowly if at all. My gratitude to your elf overwhelms me. As Dunedain we both have long years ahead of us, mine already outnumber yours greatly, yet I have no fear of seeing you fade before me. Ever you shall be beautiful, my Faramir, until you choose to exercise that grace which allows you to leave at your own will.'

Faramir shed silent tears of joy and awe at what had been granted to him.

'It is strange and sad, is it not' Aragorn's voice held both a laugh and a sigh 'That I have foresaken the love of an elf-maid become mortal and given myself instead to a mortal made elf?'

He sighed again, and kissed away Faramir's tears as he stroked the head of the man he adored.

'Then there is your great skill with the bow. Once I thought only an elf could aim so true, yet now I wonder.'

'No' Faramir laughed 'That was ever the case. I'm naturally gifted!'

'The arrow you aimed at my heart has indeed found its mark, my beloved. But to continue, I think your tale of the elf also explains Boromir's intense interest in Legolas, for I presume you told him of your strange meetings.'

Faramir gasped. 'He wanted to know whether Prince Legolas was also bejewelled!'

Aragorn nodded, smiling.

'Did he ever find out?'

'No, though I could have assured him that Legolas is not so adorned.'

'You know this from experience?'

'Legolas and I have travelled many roads together. Sometimes lonely roads where we have taken comfort in each others bodies.'

'He is most beautiful and I am envious of your having him. Was he your lover during the quest?'

*One of them* thought Aragorn to himself. He still had not told Faramir all that he should, and now the moment had passed.

'Legolas and I did indeed become lovers once more. His sweet body has long been a temptation to me and perhaps will be again. And if you wish it, you may once more know the pleasures of an elf. I know that Legolas later regretted not having responded to Boromir's advances, but when he beheld his brother he became driven by a new lust. Legolas will, I know, submit to you most willingly should you desire it.'

Aragorn sucked slowly on Faramir's lower lip.

'And I shall enjoy watching you take him, my beloved, if I can restrain myself from joining with your coupling.'

Lying face to face the two men ground their erections into each other, using their legs to hook themselves closer, their mouths ravaging whatever skin could be found until they cried out together at the force of their release, stomachs and thighs covered in a thick slick of semen which could only be licked clean.

They were quiet and still for a while in the midday heat, contemplating what they now knew. Faramir gazed at the sky, watched the clouds, saw in them faces and figures of elves and men, lost in deepest thought. Aragorn rose and walked to where their gear was spread, rescuing something from a saddle-bag, returning to kneel beside his recumbant lover.

'Boromir once told me you gave him a star for his birthday. I did not know of what he spoke. But afterwards, when I sorted through his belongings, I found this and I understood. And now I understand even more. It belongs to you.'

Aragorn offered something like fire, like ice, something golden and silver. Faramir sat up and took the flask with reverence.

'It wasn't really his birthday present. Nor was the oil it contained...' he smiled crookedly. 'I was.'

Aragorn enfolded his steward into his arms, holding him tight and rocking him gently.

'A sweeter gift no brother could surely have wished for. How old were you?'

'He was twenty-two, I was seventeen. We wanted each other so badly.'

'So old! You were a full-grown man! I am astonished that Boromir did not take you sooner, truly you must have been temptation. I would have had to breach your tight innocent arse years before had I been in his place! Ah but then Gondor is not Imladris, is it?'

Faramir shrugged at the memory of how much he had wanted his brother, how he had first lain with Boromir.

'He had been away for many months. I had become a man in his absence. Though we had never spoken of it we had both wanted to give ourselves to each other whilst I was still a child, but I knew Boromir too well, knew that he would be brutal and that as a child I would have been broken by what he had to give. I think he would have killed me, he loved me so much. Loves me so much still.'

'Imrahil said that there was violence in your love.'

Aragorn felt Faramir stiffen slightly in his arms.

'Boromir, I...we were...we were extreme. We rejoiced in each other's pain. You do not know the brutality within me.'

'Worry not. No man lacks a violent side. I would know yours when the time comes. As you shall know mine. Pain can bring the sweetest pleasure.'

Aragorn gently lifted one of Faramir's wrists to his mouth and kissed it tenderly.

'These marks were not upon your body when last we met. I know the scars of shackles. What happened, my love?'

Faramir took a deep breath before he embarked upon the explanation he had so dreaded.

The heat of the day, the wine they had brought with them, the growing familiarity of each other's bodies, the exploration and fulfilment of mutual desires, all had combined to make the lovers languid. Both wanted to prolong as long as possible the crescendo of the day until it exploded in an ultimate consummation. Together they lay amongst the long grasses, watching the skies as Faramir ever loved to do, listening to the birdsong, speaking at times of the matter of their love, coming together to kiss and touch with an exquisite tenderness that was new to them both.

A gentle nicker from one of the horses reminded Faramir that he had brought some withered apples for their mounts. Aragorn lay watching him as the steward went to the horses, fed and petted them. Glorious was Faramir's nakedness next to that of the muscled animals and Aragorn was moved by the sight.

'You remind me of one of the great tawny cats of the south. You have such confidence in your body, the way you move is sensuous and feline, full of grace and pride.'

'You have seen such a great cat? I have only read of them.'

'I saw one once, long years ago, in Harad. It was caged and piteous, yet still it held great nobility in its sorrow. I would have freed it if I could, though I believe it would have killed me had I tried. You are my great cat, beloved, but I promise that I shall never subject you to any cage. You are the king's steward, his greatest friend and now his lover, but your will is ever your own.'

'The only cage I desire is that of your love and your need, Aragorn. To that I would be subject all my days.'

Aragorn had been wondering for some time which of them would be the first to take the other as only a man can do. Now he knew what he wanted, that he was ready to take the next step.

'Faramir, this place to which you have brought me will ever be the most precious spot within my kingdom, the place where we first knew each others bodies. It is sacred to me, as you are also.'

He moved closer, nestling against the warm sun-kissed body he so desired, hands working across Faramir's opalescent skin, lips nuzzling and teasing mouth and cheek and ear. Faramir groaned his pleasure in response.

'Faramir, I would ask something of you...'

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/four-journeys. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!