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Healing (PG-13) Print

Written by darkstar0203

19 December 2010 | 2343 words

Title: Healing
(a.k.a Healing someone as stubborn as Faramir is an extremely hard task)
Rating: PG – 13
Pairings/Characters: Elrond/Faramir, Aragorn (who was supposed to be the narrator, but somehow got shoved to the back after the second scene)
Warnings: Lack of inspiration and a bit OOC Oh and..fluff..? I think…? And a bit short.

Written for the 2010 Midwinter Swap.

Request by Khylea: How about Faramir/Elrond? Something along the lines of Faramir isnt recovering from his injuries from the Orcs at Osgiliath and Elrond helps heal him? And then *ahem* more happens than just healing? *wink wink*


Blue-grey eyes blinked in confusion, mind already trying to figure out what he had done wrong. Faramir’s hand held a grape half way to his mouth, which hung open as he tried to make his tongue work out his confusion. His steward truly did make such amusing faces when surprised enough, though this time, he could not help but wonder if it had been too much of a shock. Aragorn watched him, trying to hide how he thought such a reaction better suited the brother Boromir often told him off, as he tries to find the words to properly express his confusion, mouth opening and closing in a very good imitation of a fish out of water. The older male was about to call to him, worried that the information may have been a bit too much when he finally responded with the words he often used to express out-right confusion at his King’s actions. It often amazed him how two simple words could express the state of Faramir’s surprise.

“M-my Lord…?” the confused steward managed to stutter out, putting the fruit back onto the plate so he could give his King his full attention. ‘Ah, just one stutter. Not irreparable then. ‘ It had been worse when he had suggested he go out on Ranger duty. Honestly, Minas Tirith often felt cramped compared to the woods he was used to. Aragorn thought to himself before steering his mind back to the current problem.

The two were enjoying a dinner in one of the King’s chambers, the Man finally having been able to pull his dedicated Steward away from his work. Aragorn had been worried his friend, for he did consider Faramir such, had been working himself into exhaustion, and the seeing him now, Aragorn was willing to believe he had suspected correctly.

The younger male’s eyes had shadows under them, proof he had not been sleeping well and the kitchen’s complaints about the man skipping his meals were quite true, seeing as he hadn’t gained any weight despite it already being a month after his release from the Healers. Following the train of thought, Aragorn wondered if it had been a good idea in the first place to allow Faramir out of the Healers’ jurisdiction so soon. The Man had wanted to get to work as soon as he had accepted he was going to be steward and Aragorn had foolishly allowed it, knowing he’d need Faramir’s help during his crowning and even his wedding. Faramir was a wonderful help then and still is now, however Minas Tirith was in peace like the rest of the land, and still he is restless. Aragorn observed his Steward and knew he had reason to

“Did I…do something wrong?” Faramir’s wary question broke Aragorn out of his train of thoughts. The King sighed. Oh yes, he was definitely making the right decision.

“No, you didn’t Faramir,” he said, softly, knowing the Man was already quite nervous, “But I worry about you, my friend.”

Faramir flushed an attractive red. To have worried his King… Faramir felt utterly ashamed. Sighing in defeat, Faramir turned his gaze back to his plate, as he picked up his wine and sipped it, “If my Lord is that worried for me, then please, do what you believe would ease your worry,”

‘Hopefully, he can do something about that too…’ Smiling charmingly at his victory over the usually stubborn steward, Aragorn gave a firm nod, “Perfect, my ada, Lord Elrond is already on his way. I sent hin my letter a few weeks prior,”

Faramir chocked on his drink, eyes widening. “L-lord Elrond? Lord Elrond is the healer you spoke of assigning me?”

Aragorn simply gave the other a kind smile, knowing he was definitely doing Faramir a favor. If there was anyone who could help Faramir, it would be the elven lord.


The elven lord arrived a fortnight after his king had told him of the arrangement, and the time had not calmed the steward at all. Instead of trying to relax and actually get a start on the healing process, the Man was taking charge of the arrangements for the Elven lord’s arrival. Aragorn sighed, knowing full well what his ada would say upon finding out about this. For now, all three were in the Healer’s wing, his ada checking on the tense Man.

Stepping away from his patient, Elrond turned a questioning gaze to the fidgeting Steward, “Tell me, have you been sleeping properly?”

The question made Faramir sit up straighter, somewhat wishing he hadn’t taken off his shirt when the Elf had asked to see his wound. Aragorn felt a wave of sympathy for his steward, he knew what it felt like to receive that ‘Look’, having been on the receiving end of it during his childhood with the twins, and surely being half naked did not help. Watching as Faramir’s face turned into an attractive pink, Aragorn readied himself for what would surely be a lecture.

“The preparations-”

“For my arrival?”

“Yes, I-”

“You did it yourself?”

“…Yes…?” The wave of sympathy turned into a tidal wave and Aragorn sent his Steward a pitying gaze. Oh well, he had to learn.

“Are you telling me, that already knowing you were in a condition needing a Healer, you still took on this work and over worked yourself?” Elrond arched an aristocratic eyebrow and Faramir suddenly felt quite silly. He had simply took on the task because he had felt it was his responsibility to make sure the Lord was comfortable. ‘I worked to make sure the person..elf..who would be making sure I didn’t over exert myself was comfortable..’ Faramir could not help but be annoyed by the irony in that statement.

“I…” Faramir stole a glance at his King, who seemed torn between grinning and looking at him with pity, and blushed a darker shade of red, “My apologies,”

The Eleven Lord simply sighed, already having a feeling he was going to have a hard and stubborn patient.


And apparently he was more than right in his judgment, as Elrond once more found himself hunting down his wayward patient. Why the Man found the need to try and over-work himself, ignoring sleep and meals, when he was technically on vacation, Elrond, who managed Imladris himself, would never know. It was baffling the Man’s love for work.

Pushing open the door to Faramir’s office, Elrond pinned the Man with a Look. He had raised the twins, Faramir stood no chance. The Man stared back at him much like a deer caught off guard by a hunter, and for a second Elrond wondered if, much like the deer, Faramir would run. Apparently, the Man had enough sense not to. Aragorn would throw a fit if he discovers his Steward, whose supposed to be resting, was instead running around the halls trying to escape and do his paperwork.

“Is there something the matter, my lord?” Faramir asked, the picture of innocence.

“You skipped your meal. And the maid had reported to me, that you have once again decided to camp in your office,” the Elf stated dryly, “Tell me, is the seat more comfortable than your bed and that is why you prefer it?”

“No, I-”

“You were staying up to work,” Elrond finished, “We have spoken about this, Faramir,” he continued, much like a parent scolding a child, “You need sleep, much like any other Man-”

“I have nightmares.” Faramir interrupted, surprising the Elven lord. The Man had always just allowed him to speak, always being polite and respectful. He had never seemed the type to interrupt someone speaking, and most especially not someone like Elrond.

‘Ah, finally. Progress.’ Elrond thought to himself, simply waiting for Faramir to continue.

“The nightmares…I…They are…I cannot sleep,” He finished somewhat tiredly, a hand running over his face and stopping to cover his eyes as if this will erase the memory of his nightmares. There was no need for further prompting, as Faramir continued, “Boromir and father… I… I failed them. I should not be here. He should.”

“Has Boromir ever said such a thing? That he would want you dead in replacement of him?” Elrond asked gently, approaching Faramir.

“The nightmares…”

“Has Boromir, your brother, ever said such a thing?” the older male repeated with more intensity.

Faramir dropped his hands, and the smile that stole its way to his lips spoke clearly of the love shared between the brothers. “No, never.”

“Then why listen to the lies you tell yourself? Would you really sully the image of your brother by assuming he would ever think such?”

The words seem to shock Faramir into action and the Man stood suddenly, surprising the Elf, “No! I would never! Boromir is…”

Deflating suddenly, Faramir gave the Elf a defeated look. “I understand that there is possibly no truth in my dreams… however…”

“When you dream, will you try and remember your brother would not like you thinking in such a way?” Elrond said simply, offering a hand to the Man. The offer’s meaning was obvious, and after a few seconds, Faramir took the offered hand, knowing there was unlikely any way he could get out of it.


After a short argument (“You’re going to watch me sleep?” “Yes.” “But-” “Can you prove that you will not try and avoid sleep?” “I might not even be tired, you know.” “As your healer, I could prove that’s not true”), Elrond found himself watching Faramir’s sleeping form. With how deeply the other was sleeping, his exhaustion was obvious. Elrond sighed at the Man’s stubbornness, with how Boromir spoke of his brother one would think he was a docile kitten.

Glancing at the sleeping male, Elrond allowed himself a small smile, “Well, perhaps that comparison is not too far off…”

Faramir’s hair was splayed along his pillow, forming a sort of halo around the young Man’s head. Just as Aragorn assumed, Faramir was obviously much too thin, as was obvious from the young Steward’s think night shirts. However, this did nothing to ruin Faramir’s obvious beauty.

‘And from the way he is spoken of, it is not just beauty he has inherited from his Númenorean lineage…’ Elrond had heard of enough tales of Faramir from his brother and Mithrardir, and while he did disagree on some accounts, the Man’s wisdom, at least when it didn’t concern his health, and kind nature was already proven to him during his stay. With an affectionate smile, Elrond, reached forward to brush some strands of hair away from the man’s face where it had fallen from all the twisting and turning, only to freeze as blue-grey eyes snapped open. Well, apparently people had also gotten Faramir’s ranger reflexes wrong.


Feeling a presence coming closer, Faramir used all the control he had honed as a Ranger, eyes snapping open only to find himself staring at a similarly shocked Elrond. The Elf’s porcelain face was far too close for Faramir’s comfort as his face burned in embarrassment. “M-My Lord?”

“Two hours.” Elrond suddenly said, confusing Gondor’s Steward, “You have only slept two hours, you cannot possibly be fully rested yet.”

He…was talking about that? In this situation? Faramir’s mind tried to catch up with the odd events as he tried to sit up, only to be stopped by a hand on his chest. “But I-” the man tried to say.

“Will you really force me to use drastic measures to get you to stay in your bed?”

The statement seemed to shock both parties as they stared at each other for a few seconds before Faramir decided to try his luck. “But I-”

The statement was left unfinished as soft lips met the Man’s. Both remained frozen and unmoving, lips simply connected, before Elrond took a step away, staring down at the Man curiously. The gaze made Faramir blush an unflattering shade of red as he placed a hand over his mouth.

“Why would you do that?” Faramir asked, dazedly. “With me, of all people.”

Elrond arched an eyebrow at the man, “I may have found the reason for your nightmares.” The elven lord said dryly. “You really must stop thinking so lowly of yourself.”

“I don’t…” the Man said, although even from his tone it was obvious he did not believe himself.

“Faramir. You’re brother loved you, and in his last act, your father, albeit in a way I would not recommend, your father showed he did as well.” Faced with a doubtful scoff from the Steward, Elrond leaned forward, cupping the Man’s face in his hand, he placed a soft kiss on the Man’s lips, “Perhaps that’s where we have to start…”

“I..beg your pardon?” Faramir’s face was a mix of worry , confusion and perhaps excitement as he licked his lips, subconsciously filing away the slight difference in taste after the short kisses.

Somehow, the smile on the elven lord’s face was far from reassuring as Faramir felt his heartbeat accelerate. The next thing the steward knew, a weight was on top of him and he felt warmth seep through his nightclothes and blanket.

End

Yes, I know it’s a bit of a fail. I wanted to add so many more scenes but I sort of lacked the time. I’m so sorry. I can add to this when my schedule allows me. (I have some projects for graduation lined up in school and my internship starts soon so… >.>)

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/healing-someone-as-stubborn-as-Faramir. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!


3 Comment(s)

I like your Stuttering!Faramir, and I like even more that Aragorn can accurately judge the strength of a reaction by the number of stutters!

— Mira Took    Sunday 19 December 2010, 21:13    #

Thank you for the lovely story! Poor Faramir, trying so hard to live up to what he thinks Elrond and Aragorn want. I hope you do more of this, I’d love to see how the relationship develops between Elrond and Faramir.

— Khylea    Monday 20 December 2010, 6:03    #

I love the differences you show between Faramir as Boromir described him and Faramir as he really is. Those were my favorite parts.

— Anna    Thursday 13 January 2011, 17:16    #

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