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Hidden Love (PG-13) Print

Written by Laivindur

19 January 2013 | 8166 words | Work in Progress

Title: Hidden Love
Author: Laivindur
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Faramir & Unknown / Surprise Characters
Warnings: Violence, threats of death. MalexMale.

What happens when the righteous and kind older brother is placed between his little one and his love for a Harad?
And how do Faramir handle the new knowledge of his older brother’s sides which he figures out after a talk with one of the Harads?
And to put a cherry on top: a war with the Harads lie above them all.
Added: Part 3

[ all pages ]

Hidden Love

“How dare you gain a fight with a steward?! That gives you a penalty, young man!”

The young rebel and the older berating man turned with surprised expressions at the youngest steward who’d called out with hidden pain behind determination. Both reddish blonde curls and black straight strings of hair dripped with rain. The darker and tallest man’s clothes were soaked in brown mud with the older man’s grasp at the shirt, and the young man measured Faramir as he calmed by what the youngest steward had said. The noble young man stood still, panting heavily with a painful grasp at his tummy and had to collect himself with a shy gasp before speaking more calmed.

“That will not be necessary. This was just an incident with two men fighting about a silly matter. Naught more I assure you.”

With a waving hand he sent the older man away. The bald man left in a more carefree matter rather than annoyed as he’d just stepped up for Faramir because he felt he had to, but as the steward ordered him off, there was not much else he had in mind than to follow orders and left the two alone in the muddy arena.

Evidence of the festival lay scattered around: flags and different kind of cloths were hanging from the fences which made a square in the field and the soil was hard to hold balance in as it was stamped into pits of mud and water with eager cheering men stubborn enough to stand through bad weather to see the homecoming Boromir fight the champion of the games.

The warm aroma after parties around the tribunes were carried away by the wind as the men spoke.
The man who had hit Faramir hard in the center pulled his shirt to place and spat before jerking his black hair back to place with a nervous but triumphing laugh.
“At least you know when to stand up for yourself.”

“Shut up!”

Faramir shouted angry and felt more like the loser even though he’d made to toss the bastard in the soil without being covered with mud other than on his thigh, face and arm. He stared like a mother lioness do when feeling threatened at the nervous but stubborn man who shifted and let his black mustache fell with the grin. He spoke deep and low just like his attitude. And his Harad background made his accent pester Faramir even more.
“You are only angry because you know it is true.”

“No! Boromir would never do such a thing! Stop lying and speak no more of it or else I take back the mercy I just showed you.”

The offending man snorted and wiped his muddy and bloody face with his elbow as a stripe of red fell from his nose, and he pressed the soil with his boots while balancing away rather than walking.
Faramir stood still alone as the rain started pouring with no mercy on the already soaked terrain.
‘I thought Minas Tirith was supposed to shine when you came home from Harad, brother.’

‘Damn it’ Faramir thought while twitching in chagrin for the dinner that was set for the three of them. It was supposed to be a fine dinner with the homecoming firstborn of the steward, but now he’d probably got to know what business his youngest had been at after the festival and would use the dinner as an excuse for interrogation and then get two flies in one when making a fool out of him in front of his older brother.

‘Damn it’ he thought again as he cursed his father’s spies. But most important was to figure out what to say to his father. He had to tell the truth, or somewhat of it, but how would he explain that he’d defended Boromir to such an extent and how could he avoid the dumb man to get executed for such an insult and accusation? The Harad was already marked as a traitor by blood if not by actions. Faramir knew the man had gone mad and angry for other reasons and chose to take his grief and sorrow out on the general Boromir.

It was not fair. There was no sense in making the situation worse for the one you love just because he won’t love you back.
He came back to the first step: tell the truth. ‘Alright’.
Faramir stood in front of the mirror after a bath and with his fine garment on, he stood firm and proud, though trembling.
“What happened was that I and another man was helping…we bumped into one another when helping the…helping with the gathering of…damn it.”

He closed his eyes and frowned in thoughts. Taking a deep breath with hands on hips in a short meditation, he then spoke more firmly.
“We bumped into one another-”

He lifted one eyebrow heedlessly and shook his head while waving a hand while speaking hurriedly like the subject was of no importance.
“…and the slippery mud made the rest, naught more to worry about.”
He looked at himself for a while and measured his stance. It wasn’t going to hold.

He sucked in a long breath to overlook his explanation and exhaled in defeat and exhaustion. It was not going to hold at all. He had tried for 23 years to gain his father’s trust and still he stood rehearsing explanations. He knew it; it was all going to fall back on him once again.

Just then his brother entered with his mighty form covered in fine garments which made Faramir raise brows and laugh as he saw Boromir’s insecure expression while lifting his arms.
“Alas there are no women to night or else I would have enjoyed watching them tear you apart in greed or drown you with their aroused bodies.”

Their hug was firm and loving, but when Boromir groaned as Faramir had squeezed his rib which had been hurt in the games earlier, the youngest jumped off and excused himself to a grinning but hurting champion.
“Aah, don’t mind it.” He gasped and tried to smile even though he felt the bone torture his lung.

Faramir was about to lift his arm up and caress his worry for him as he had ever done. It was normal and nothing of the unusual, but as he stopped himself as he felt a warning in his guts and made it to a pat on the shoulder instead, he blushed and felt the huge confuse in his sudden change of mind. He felt guilt.

They left after Faramir gave a smile and a beckon to leave for the dinner.

“Please, father. Let us enjoy Boromir’s victory rather than my stupidity.”

Faramir knew his father’s simple and hidden movement of his elbow further back on the chair handle signaled he was not happy that he’d used his brother to avoid confrontation. But Denethor thought his lastborn right and almost ignored him all dinner. He let the brothers have somewhat of conversation though, before interfering by leaving Faramir out for several minutes.

It wasn’t until late Denethor sent a servant for Faramir before he’d even entered his own room, and the young steward trembled even more when his father called him to open the door and enter.
“You called me, father.”
“Yes, you do not have to remind me, Faramir. I’m not that old yet.”

The young man shot his eyes down with a tight jaw and wanted this over as quickly as possible.

“Tell me, what unimportant business were you at? As you call it.”
Faramir thought back at what he’d said in front of the mirror and let his eyes rest on the colored carpet before looking at his mostly curious but still annoyed father who sat comfortably in his chair as if he watched some sort of entertainment.

“It was an unfortunate clash between me and a civilian. I let him know of his place and therefore nothing more to worry about.”

“If it was handled righteous or not, or if it was nothing to worry about, is for me to decide. I do not want you to cast humiliation on our nobility or weaken our reputation.”

Faramir kept his gaze firmly on his father and hoped he could hide whatever his father’s gaze wanted to dig up as he apparently saw that his son defended this civilian. He folded his hands and continued.

“Now, tell me the truth for I will know if you hide something from me. It is up to you if you want the consequences of such actions.”

The fear made the tender face of Faramir grow white and stiff and the nervousness tightened his throat so he had to swallow before speaking. He thought the civilian to meet the consequences of his own actions rather than he getting punished, but Faramir simply cared too much and saw the reason behind the Harad’s lie. The Harad was jealous.

The Harads was not to be given mercy and would be killed on whatever excuse they might come up with after they’d just proclaimed war upon Gondor. There were still some Harads in the city, people who had grown up there or just ended up there somehow. The only reason this man was still in town and not safely on the farms was because of Faramir, and he spoke calm.

“There were some problems with a civilian, but I confronted him about it as he spoke unfriendly words, and if I can have your permission I will send him away tomorrow.”

“This is unusual for you to be, dear son; to send someone away for mere confrontations. As you call it.”

“I do not wish to speak details to you, my lord. His actions have penalties of flogging that will only make his thought of the nobility worse; therefore I choose expulsion as a more fit punishment. If he does not like it here, then he might as well leave.”

“I do not look away from this verdict of yours. But I am curious of his actions. What did he do and say that showed his revulsion to the city?”

Faramir’s voice kept on just the same, though with some reluctance, which the steward almost did not detect “He said that he resented the nobility and thought their decisions wrong in the war. And he attacked me, though vaguely. It was naught more than…”

Denethor interrupted his son as he heard he was starting to defend this traitor. Faramir walked into a trap and knew he was unable to do anything about it. This would not turn out well.
“Then I must have second thought of your verdict at last. If you send this person out of the walls, he will probably seek revenge on this nobility that he hates and has already attacked, therefore there is not any chance of sending this probable traitor away. I give you a mission, Faramir, my son.”

Faramir prayed for all the valars he knew of that the order would not be as cruel as he feared.

“First: What is his name?” Denethor asked while writing on a paper.

Faramir took a deep breath and was tempted to say he knew not, but as the piercing grey eyes shot up from the table in anticipation, Faramir halted and held his breath before speaking.

“Veihar, my lord. Veihar and nothing more. That is their custom.”

“Well then, find this person we’ve spoken about, Veihar, and arrest him. While you do that tell him he is arrested for treason, attack on the noble family and cowardice. Bring him down to the dungeons.”
Faramir took a deep breath while listening to his father’s strict voice, and seeing his chagrin by the tight lips, he sighed inwards. ‘Damn it, I’ve made to fail him again.’

“There you will trial him with a proper punishment. Do you remember, Faramir? Cell 4 in the third grey floor. Is that understood?”

With small nods and mind desperately in search of another way Faramir felt his body cry and scream in agony. How could he ever make himself do this? He had to accept the order and leave with the courtesy needed to make his father happy and felt the anger boil up inside so hard he had to run to his room and scream the loudest he could in there.

“Noo!” He screamed and tossed the chair aside so it smashed into a big chest by the window. He kicked it further away into the bath place and cursed before falling down on his knees with moans of defeat and tears burning his cheeks. By god he did not want to send Veihar to his death, his best friend who had confessed his love for him and then been stupid enough to make him choose between the two he loved the most.

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

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7 Comment(s)

The emotions are so well written and compelling. Faramir’s frustration, turmoil, and anger are very poignant. Denethor’s cold attitude is portrayed excellently. I look forward to your next update! Please update soon!

— AvidReader    Monday 6 August 2012, 20:02    #

Love the dialogues! The “classical” language and the measured pace contrast with the emotionally charged atmosphere. And now of course I want to know the wheres and hows: when did they meet first? What does Boromir think about it? And what is it Boromir would never do? :P

By the way, and I hope this won´t come across like peering around in a writer´s recipes – did you have a real life model of how the other man looks like? I´m just curious, and again, if you get the feeling this question goes a bit too far, please feel free to ignore it. :)

— raven22372    Tuesday 7 August 2012, 11:21    #

Thank you so much for comments making my smile broad ;)

I will continue, yes, with answers to the questions u ask. Thank you for that btw, I love it when readers ask and want to know more. It can make me a better writer to know what my readers want :)
The looks on the Harad I have, though it’s a bit hard to explain without making it wrong.
Perhaps you could picture Prince Caspian in Narnia but with sharper and rougher features. He is also much taller x3 More explanations will come in the story ;) He is a character I rarely see in other stories, and he is a new one for me so it will be interesting to build him.

Again, thank you!

— Laivindur    Tuesday 7 August 2012, 22:04    #

Ooooh! Please do continue! I cannot wait to read more of this! Ah, poor Veilmar, in so much trouble now, as is Faramir… I look forward to our next enstallment.

I adore your writing style and the flow of your words! Though you be not a native English speaker, one would be hard pressed to gather that knowledge. Bravo!

— Avid Reader    Monday 13 August 2012, 19:34    #

Thank you so much “Avid Reader”. I assume you mean Veihar ;)

— Laivindur    Tuesday 14 August 2012, 20:41    #

cough cough Veihar, yes. I suppose that is what happens when one types something at 2 in the morning and doesn’t turn a light on. :)

— Avid Reader    Wednesday 15 August 2012, 1:05    #

Hahaha ^^

— Laivindur    Wednesday 15 August 2012, 14:26    #

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