Faramir Fiction Archive

In His Gardens (NC-17)

Written by Nissi

14 November 2006 | 5431 words

Pairing: Boromir/Faramir, Faramir/Legolas (mentioned)
Summary: Follows The Secret Widower and Unexpected Blessings. This is a small vignette occurring after the return of Faramir and Legolas from Rohan. A troubled Boromir seeks solace in his brother, sending them on a journey to peace and pleasure. Quite a bit of romantic ramblings, drama (mayhap even melodrama!), explicit sexual content, and angst.
Feedback: nissi@hushmail.com
Disclaimer: Any references to works of Tolkien are property of the Tolkien estate and New Line Cinema. This work is not for profit.

— Follows from Unexpected Blessings —

---

Chapter 1: The Weight of Things

The warrior sat upon the ground in the dark, musty tomb, his usually tall and proud form crumpled dejectedly. He leaned upon his mother’s grave as if letting her support him in a way she had not since he was a child.

The young captain strode into the tombs confidently, knowing that his secret lover waited there. It was one of their usual meeting places—not because they enjoyed the ambience—but because their love was a forbidden love. There were few areas of the White City where they could freely express themselves as husbands. The dead would not tell their secrets.

He immediately worried when he saw his brother’s figure slumped upon the floor. “Boromir?” he asked quietly, even the smallest of voices echoing grandly through the hall. “Are you well?” He stepped closer, placing his hand lovingly upon Boromir’s shoulder.

“I am well,” came Boromir’s unconvincing reply. He straightened his posture to emphasize the point.

“What ails you, brother of mine?” Faramir asked tenderly, kneeling beside his love. “You are clearly troubled.”

Boromir shook his head slowly. He was reluctant to open the flood gates even for his lover, whom he trusted as he trusted no other. But he did not want to express his feelings. They were overtaking him, and he was not accustomed to being unable to control himself. The last time he felt so swept away by his emotions was when he admitted the fullness of his love to Faramir.

“Please tell me. It pains me to think you are suffering and will not let me aide you,” Faramir said sweetly, pressing his lips to Boromir’s temple.

“It is nothing particular, my love. It is…everything,” Boromir waved his hand, his voice quivering. “You are my only respite, my only solace. But our times together grow fewer and fewer, as I am given more and more responsibility in the field.”

“All the more reason to make the most of what time we do have, Boromir. I do not believe that these days will last. I do not believe our lives will be filled with constant conflict and loss. The darkness will pass, my husband,” Faramir tried to console him.

“Meanwhile I am failing our people. I am failing our father,” Boromir nearly sobbed, his exhaustion and frustration giving rise to self-pity.

“You are doing nothing of the sort. You are trying your best, leading your men as well as you can. You are only one man, Boromir. You cannot carry the whole of Gondor on your shoulders,” Faramir explained, draping his arm across Boromir’s back.

“Father believes I can,” Boromir replied with more than a little bitterness.

“Father has taken leave of his senses,” Faramir declared. “Please do not judge yourself by his standards. Boromir,” Faramir turned his brother to face him. “I have judged myself thusly all of my life. It is torture. It is madness.”

Boromir sighed deeply. “Father is not yet as mad as you say, Faramir, but I feel as though if I fail to keep Gondor safe then he will lose his grasp. He places so much faith in me.”

“I have faith in you too, love. But I also see that you are fallible—and…” Faramir lifted Boromir’s chin and gazed into his brother’s green eyes, darkened with turmoil. “…I love your fallibility. I love who you are, Boromir. I do not love you only for what I think you can accomplish. Father’s affection has become too narrow in focus. Do not let it drive you to distraction,” the younger man concluded.

Boromir nodded slowly. “Thank you, Faramir. As always you are my rock. I will try not to judge myself so harshly. But it is not easy—we are nearly overwhelmed. Mordor’s power grows by the day, and I cannot long deflect the darkness. Osgiliath has nearly fallen!”

Faramir smiled softly. “Keeping the shadow at bay is a difficulty we all face. But try we must. That is all anyone asks of you, Boromir. You are already fulfilling your duty.”

“Father plans to deploy you to Osgiliath. He wishes you to maintain our presence there—to fight to hold the river,” Boromir said quietly. “It is perilous on the river, Faramir. I worry…”

“I am well accustomed to battle now, my love, as much as I dislike it. Please do not have undue concern,” Faramir responded.

“You once said that if we should find ourselves fighting among the ruins of that once-great city then I could coddle you. I fully intend for you to make good on your promise,” Boromir managed a small grin.

“Fair enough, brother,” Faramir patted Boromir’s back. “I will endure your fretting as you endured mine,” he added good-naturedly. He lifted his index finger to lightly brush up and down Boromir’s cheek. “We are war-wearied,” he mused. “So much we carry…” He traced the line of the symmetrical vertical creases on either side of Boromir’s brow—a feature that his husband had only recently gained.

“You were right, Faramir. Someday we will live in peace. There must be hope,” Boromir smiled gently.

Faramir nodded swiftly. He glanced up at the carved stone image of his long-dead mother. “Mother would have been proud of you,” Faramir whispered reverently. “She would have understood.”

“There is much of her in you, my husband, my love,” Boromir replied thoughtfully. “I love you more than words can tell.”

“As I love you, Boromir,” Faramir smiled brightly.

Boromir brought his brother’s hand to his lips and kissed the back tenderly. “Let us leave here. It is too somber—there must be another private place where we may enjoy each other’s company.”

Faramir tilted his head thoughtfully. “My garden. It is all but abandoned this time of night. And given the chill in the air, I would wager all of Minas Tirith is indoors basking in firelight. We can fetch a blanket from my chamber along the way.”

“Will you show me the stars again, little one—like you did when we were wed?” Boromir asked hopefully.

“It would be my pleasure,” Faramir replied as he stood and offered Boromir his hand.

“It will not be the only pleasure you have this night,” Boromir said in a hushed, desirous voice.

Faramir shivered at the prospects as he walked with his glorious brother out of the tombs and into the fresh, crisp air of the late autumn night.

Chapter 2: Naming the Stars

Faramir and his husband laid side-by-side upon the grass on the edge of Boromir’s memorial in Emyn Arnen, nude beneath a thick wool blanket, gazing up at the stars. It had been many months since Boromir’s inexplicable appearances began, and whether they were genuine or pure insanity Faramir never knew. Faramir never cared.

Faramir’s home was empty save for the couple. They had taken advantage of the situation to disrobe and run into the garden, Boromir chasing Faramir until they collapsed upon the green, laughing heartily at their childishness. There had been few such playful encounters for them in the last years of Boromir’s life.

Boromir clasped Faramir close to him, feeling the tickle of his younger brother’s chest hair upon his skin. “Tell me the name of that star again?” he asked, nodding to a particularly large white star.

Faramir smiled and kissed his lover’s brow. “You know its name perfectly well. But you are sweet to humor me.”

“I love the sound of your voice, Faramir. I would encourage you to speak of anything simply for the opportunity to hear its dulcet tones,” Boromir enthused in reply.

“Is that why you let me read you poetry?” Faramir asked with a grin.

“Aye, that and I always hope you’ll give me something generous to show your appreciation,” Boromir quipped.

“Generous? Like…” Faramir thought a moment. “A new suit of armor? Or perhaps your own enormous dwelling here in Emyn Arnen? Or perhaps a new steed, finest Rohan stock, donned in a freshly-tooled saddle?”

“Generous like this,” Boromir said with a mischievous glint in his mossy eyes as his lips descended to capture Faramir’s, engaging his lover in a breathtaking kiss.

“So,” Faramir swallowed as the kiss broke. “Not quite as generous as a house…”

Boromir laughed at Faramir’s determined play. “Generous like this,” the older man began anew, kissing a line along Faramir’s lightly-bearded jaw, down the graceful line of his neck, and across his chest. Boromir stopped to tease one of Faramir’s nipples with the tip of his tongue.

Faramir squirmed and bit his lip. After a moment he continued, “Perhaps not as generous as a new suit of armor…”

“Generous like this,” Boromir growled as he drew his tongue down across Faramir’s stomach and abdomen. He kissed his navel as his hands nudged apart the younger man’s legs and traced the slope of his inner thighs with feather light touch.

Faramir moaned softly. “Definitely not as generous as a Rohan horse with a new saddle. I’m afraid, my love, that leaves me with nothing suitable to give you. I am a pauper for gifts of a less generous nature.”

Boromir smirked as he took hold of Faramir’s hand. “I think what you have to offer me is no less generous, darling husband. It will not cost you a thing, and you will be able to see my satisfaction immediately.”

Faramir hmm’ed thoughtfully. “What is this marvelous gift that will make you instantly happy and cost me nothing? Sounds appealing. Economical. Efficient.” He grinned and chuckled lightly.

Boromir pulled Faramir’s hand down to the older man’s raging erection, hissing when his lover’s palm made contact with his hard shaft. He wrapped Faramir’s hand around his cock, making a fist, and righted himself to gaze deeply into Faramir’s eyes.

Faramir’s face lit with understanding. “So that is what you desire. Well, at least I know what to give you for your next birthday…” Faramir teased, withdrawing his hand.

“Tease!” Boromir growled, launching himself at Faramir and pushing the younger man onto his back. Boromir climbed atop him and pinned him to the ground. “I’ll have my gift now,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Will you?” Faramir challenged, a mischievous smile upon his lips.

Boromir ground his erection against Faramir’s own rapidly-hardening cock. “I will, my little brother.” He leaned in and caught Faramir’s earlobe between his teeth, nibbling with a fair measure of roughness.

“But your birthday is months away. We cannot celebrate too soon!” Faramir wriggled underneath his love.

“My death date approaches. Perhaps a conciliatory effort to hold me off until the celebration of my birth?” Boromir joked. But when he felt Faramir tense he knew he’d taken the play too far.

“I’m sorry little brother, I’m sorry,” the older man repeated, raining small kisses onto Faramir’s face. “I did not intend to sadden you…”

Faramir forced a strained smile. “It will always take…adjusting. Learning how to live with the fact that you’re dead. But you’re here. You’re so real…” Faramir reached up and ran his fingers through his lover’s hair. “There was so much pain, so much pain. But you have taken it away.”

Boromir nuzzled Faramir’s neck. “I would take any hurt from you, Faramir. I would shoulder any burden to keep you happy, and to keep you in peace.”

“And you know we require no special reason to ‘celebrate’ with intimacy, or to give one another the ‘gift’ of pleasure. I want nothing more than to feel you, Boromir. To feel your skin against mine…your lips upon mine…our limbs entwined as your slip inside of me, making me yours,” Faramir concluded.

“You are mine,” Boromir murmured. “And I belong to you, too. I will show you. The stars will be witness to the power of my love and passion for you, Faramir. The stars will see how hungrily I consume you in the union of our bodies. The union of the Two Brothers…”

Faramir continued to slide his fingers through Boromir’s hair. Moved by his husband’s words he lifted his head resolutely and pinned his lips to Boromir’s, igniting an explosion of want and need expressed in the thorough, desperate exploration of one another’s mouths.

There were no more words exchanged, yet they each knew what the other was thinking. Beyond the mere reveling in the closeness they were feeling, the freedom that allowed them to make love in this way, and the sheer power of one another’s presence, their thoughts were occupied with memories.

Memories of an encounter long ago, after Boromir’s crisis of faith by Finduilas’s grave.

Chapter 3: In His Garden

They had stopped for a blanket, as Faramir suggested, and settled into the tiny garden Faramir called “his.” It resided in a small cluster of gardens upon the sixth level of the White City, tucked along the edge of an alcove. It was partially hidden from the sight of their father’s chambers in the tower of Ecthelion, and from the exposed portion they were able to keep track of their father’s whereabouts therein by the presence of candlelight in the windows. There was none this night. They knew Denethor was sleeping.

Boromir held Faramir in his arms, his strength and confidence returned. He caressed his lover tenderly as Faramir melted into the power of his brother’s embrace. Faramir always felt profoundly safe when close to Boromir, and even while engaging in an act that would have them both in tremendous danger if discovered, he had the sense that he was wholly protected.

Their faces remained parted only far enough for them to exchange gazes almost unblinkingly, their eyes the same dark hue in the shadow of night. After some time Boromir closed the gap between them and brought his lips to Faramir’s, simply holding them still against the younger man’s, much the way Faramir kissed Boromir for the first time. Boromir’s hand strayed to Faramir’s buttocks, cupping one perfect globe and pulling Faramir closer.

Faramir’s thigh lifted and draped over him as he yielded to Boromir’s guidance, their hard cocks brushing together. Both moaned almost simultaneously into the placid kiss.

“Boromir,” Faramir finally gasped, planting several more tiny kisses on his brother’s lips.

“Yes, my love?” the older man responded.

“You know that I will support you through anything, unto the end of our days,” Faramir replied, wrapping his arms firmly around Boromir’s chest.

“I know that, little brother,” Boromir said tenderly, resting his brow against his lover’s. “Why do you say this now?”

Faramir shrugged slightly. “It came to mind. I feel so safe with you, so completely sheltered in your arms…so loved and supported. I wanted you to know I will afford you the same as long as it is within my power so to do.”

“My beautiful husband,” Boromir crooned. “Always I will look after you, and gladly I will accept your care in return. Whatever happens in these tumultuous times, we will have each other.”

“Always,” Faramir whispered, diving into a more passionate kiss.

“Mmm, Faramir,” Boromir whimpered when they emerged for breath. “I love you,” he whispered as the roaming of his hands became faster, more thorough, more insistent. He ground into the younger man and pressed two fingertips into the space between Faramir’s sac and his entrance. He stimulated Faramir’s prostate from without, causing Faramir to groan, writhe, and spill precum freely.

“Take me, Boromir. I am yours, yours to have always,” Faramir moaned.

Boromir nipped at Faramir’s chin. “I will have you,” he growled as he reared up, clawing for the bottle of oil they had brought from Faramir’s room. His hand clasped it and he made short work of uncorking it, gruffly ordering “On your belly, little one” to his love.

Faramir nodded, visibly shivering in response, and rolled onto his stomach. The paving stones were unforgiving as his erect cock jutted against them, but any such discomfort was worth bearing for the feeling of coupling with his husband. Dutifully Boromir prepared Faramir for their lovemaking, which he always did despite the fact that Faramir was well accustomed to the feeling of Boromir’s cock inside of him. Boromir recognized that often their sex came with long periods between encounters and he wanted to make sure that he readied Faramir’s long-neglected body for the experience.

As Boromir’s fingers worked to relax him enough for a painless penetration Faramir’s thoughts split time between the pleasure they brought him and memories of other sensual experiences with his husband. He turned his head and pressed his cheek against the ground and murmured, “Do you remember the time we made love in Osgiliath, in that quiet sheltered spot by the river? We were hidden on all sides by the ruins of walls. We knelt in the water, which was rather cold and dirty, and hurriedly maneuvered so that I could take you into me.” Faramir smiled as he spoke.

“I remember, yes,” Boromir said as he continued to work. “The environment was wholly unromantic, but you are such a beautiful, loving soul that anywhere you go becomes a romantic place. We made due, and the more involved we became with each other the more perfect it all seemed. That was a wonderful night…hidden away from our men…”

Boromir’s words trailed off as he completed Faramir’s preparation, lubricated his cock, and knelt between his brother’s thighs. He brought his organ to Faramir’s entrance, pressing forward while the younger man’s breaths came quicker in anticipation.

“And do you remember the night we snuck into the archery range under cover of dark, and found that small private cubby where they store the quivers?” Faramir asked.

Boromir grunted as he moved forward and began to breach his brother’s body. “Yes, I remember. But I would rather focus now on how good it will feel to be inside of you, my love…” He worked the head of his cock into Faramir’s tightness and kept going, slowly feeding his member into Faramir’s body.

Faramir took the hint and stopped talking, feeling a little rejected for it, but able to ignore those feelings while Boromir’s cock slid in further until he was fully sheathed. Faramir groaned at the sensation of stretch and fullness, a delightful ever-present reminder that his brother was joined with him in the most intimate way.

Boromir stretched out atop Faramir’s back. Boromir’s lips fell to his neck and kissed tenderly, suckling on the soft flesh while he withdrew his cock and plunged forward again, stroking the length of his shaft within Faramir.

The dual pressure of Boromir’s cock within him and Boromir’s weight atop him quickly made the position particularly intense for the younger man. He squirmed and groaned, his erection sandwiched between his body and the cold stone. While the fingers of one hand clung to the ground until his fingernails dug against the pavement, his other hand rose to beg for further contact with his brother.

Boromir brought his palm to rest atop the back of Faramir’s proffered hand, twining his fingers with Faramir’s and holding gently. He stilled within the younger man, as he recognized this gesture was often born of Faramir’s discomfort. Sometimes their coupling brought inevitable aches and pains regardless of how tender Boromir was or how well he prepared his husband. Faramir usually sought to hold Boromir’s hand while he adjusted or otherwise endured any discomfort.

“Does it hurt much, little one?” Boromir whispered in Faramir’s ear, following with a tiny kiss upon his cheek.

“Nay,” Faramir replied breathlessly. “Only so many sensations assailing me…you fill me so completely, my love. It is a delectable feeling, but on occasion there must be pain to achieve pleasure. Please don’t stop,” he panted. “It satisfies me to feel your enjoyment.”

“Such a generous lover,” Boromir cooed. “I love you beyond reckoning, Faramir,” he concluded as he resumed his slow but steady movements, working in and out of his little brother’s body.

“As I love you, Boromir,” Faramir sighed and pumped his hips slightly, progressively relaxing into the union. As Boromir felt the tension ease he increased the pace of his thrusts, struggling to refrain from going too fast or too hard until his brother was ready.

Boromir knew that coupled this way, with the simultaneous pressure stretching Faramir around his girth and the downward pressure of his weight pressing his hardness into his lover in unique places, Faramir’s initial discomfort was nearly inevitable. But Boromir loved to take his husband in such a manner, feeling the complete tautness of Faramir’s muscles around him as the younger man’s nearly-closed thighs made his passage a greater challenge.

Faramir never complained, and by the subtle motions of his hips Boromir could tell Faramir had passed into pleasure, enjoying the feelings and the knowledge that Boromir was achieving his own satisfaction. Soon Faramir was groaning and moaning repeatedly, shifting his hips as best he could to encourage his love to delve more deeply. Boromir moved faster, Faramir’s reactions always conspiring against his self-control.

The older man changed the angle of penetration subtly, angling downward towards Faramir’s prostate. He had achieved repeated stimulation of his lover’s small, sensitive tangle of nerves in such a way before. When Faramir struggled to strangle a cry of pleasure Boromir knew he had hit his mark. Devilishly he aimed again and again, his own excitement reaching fevered pitch while his brother weathered the sensual assault.

Faramir’s cock poured precum onto the stone beneath it. He covered his mouth in an effort to smother the involuntary noise that the pleasure elicited. His other hand squeezed his brother’s fingers tighter as he felt himself draw close to the edge, hovering on the brink of orgasm from the prostate stimulation alone, having been careful not to rub himself much against the rough stone.

“Ungh, Boromir,” he grunted. “Please,” Faramir said, though he spoke no further to explain his desire. Boromir knew. He angled once more for Faramir’s prostate and in one forceful, digging stroke, slid his cock against it and deep within the younger man. Faramir let loose one last great groan as he exploded into orgasm, a very productive ejaculation coating the ground beneath him.

The feeling of Faramir’s muscles repeatedly rippling around his cock with every wave of his brother’s pleasure was more than Boromir could bear. With a few short thrusts he too climaxed, depositing his seed fully within Faramir. The sounds and sensations of Boromir’s orgasm only served to heighten Faramir’s pleasure. There was nothing greater than the join in mutual gratification, knowing each had pleased the other.

When last Boromir’s orgasm subsided he slowly withdrew, ruing the loss of Faramir’s body as he rolled onto his back beside his husband. He reached for the blanket that had been dislodged in the lovemaking and spread it over them. Faramir lay still, recovering his breath, abhorring the feeling of emptiness that always followed Boromir’s withdrawal, but finding consolation in the heat of Boromir’s seed inside him.

Boromir’s chest heaved for breath as he floated on the post-orgasmic high, his entire body tingling and covered in the sort of fuzzy warmth he only felt from sexual satisfaction with his little brother. He watched Faramir’s face as it remained pressed to the stone, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Boromir thought he had never seen a sight so beautiful as his love in the peaceful aftermath of climax.

The older man reached out to stroke Faramir’s back. “Did I leave you in pain, Faramir?” he asked with concern.

Faramir replied, “No, love. Only tired.”

“Only tired?” Boromir parroted with a small grin. “Not tired and blissful?”

“Blissful goes without saying,” Faramir responded in a near whisper, wincing as his body protested the movement of rolling onto his back. Boromir’s hand swiftly found his chest and stroked slowly. Faramir opened his eyes and stared at the night sky, shifting his focus from star to star.

“You seem pensive,” Boromir observed. “Does something bother you?”

“Not much,” Faramir said plainly. “Only you hushed me in my recollections,” Faramir recalled.

Boromir had to restrain himself from laughing. His little brother was sometimes unnecessarily sensitive, the littlest things bothering him when he read too much into or incorrectly interpreted Boromir’s words or actions. The older man tolerated it well, realizing that Faramir had endured so much criticism in his lifetime that such insecurities were bound to occur.

“I am sorry, Faramir. I didn’t intend to offend you. You know how dearly I love your voice, and how much I enjoy hearing you speak while we make love. Sometimes…there are odd moods, and I suppose tonight brought one of them. I was so intently focused on breaching you…” Boromir responded.

As soon as Faramir’s bother arrived it was gone, and he turned his head to Boromir and smiled adoringly. “It matters not. I was being childish. I suppose that is one pitfall of brothers as husbands. There is always the potential for us to regress,” he grinned.

Boromir leaned in and kissed Faramir’s brow. “I hope that my carelessness did not lessen your enjoyment,” he said genuinely.

“Not at all, my darling brother. It was far from my mind while we coupled. There was nothing less than absolute enjoyment for me,” Faramir swiftly lifted his chin and kissed the tip of Boromir’s nose.

“Faramir,” Boromir closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

Faramir turned upon his side facing Boromir, propping his head on his hand and touching Boromir’s chest softly. There was an obvious shift in Boromir’s demeanor. “What is it, Boromir?”

Boromir shook his head slowly. “I am overcome of late…”

“Overcome?” Faramir questioned, tracing tiny circles upon his husband’s skin with the very tips of his fingers.

“I cannot fend off a sense of foreboding, something…something looms,” Boromir’s voice shook as he spoke.

Faramir frowned. Boromir rarely seemed so disturbed, but it was as though his behavior from the tomb had recurred. “What do you think will happen, Boromir?” He moved closer and draped his arm across his brother’s chest.

“I do not know, exactly. But I can’t stop feeling as though a chain of events will soon begin; a chain that can only lead to shackles that will claim me. Claim us,” Boromir replied quietly. As he squeezed his eyes shut further a single tear unleashed and slid down his cheek.

“My love,” Faramir kissed the tear, erasing its burden from Boromir’s skin with his full lips. “You are overtired. The mind conjures all manner of terror when it hasn’t the strength to remain reasonable.”

“It cannot be so easily dismissed, Faramir,” Boromir stated. “You of all people should know. Your dreams, your visions…”

“I fight them, Boromir, or they will consume me,” Faramir admitted. “I fight to change the course of things, to prevent what I have seen. And we can simply choose not to believe in portends. We can choose to see these things as merely tricks of exhausted and troubled minds.” To date Faramir had not revealed to Boromir the extent of his visions, as to acknowledge them would be to surrender to their power.

“I will fight to the death, if need be, for such a cause,” Boromir responded. Faramir’s chest tightened at the very mention of Boromir dying in battle. “Perhaps that is what haunts me…” Boromir mused.

“Speak no more of these things, Boromir,” Faramir nearly spat, feeling panic rise within him. He quelled it with a simple mantra, “We will endure, and we will survive.”

Boromir knew how greatly it bothered Faramir when he spoke of certain matters, such as death or his ascension to the position of Steward someday. Despite his suggestion of combating superstition Faramir remained remarkably superstitious, and his acts otherwise never fooled his older brother.

“Very well, Faramir. I will push these thoughts from my mind, and I will not give them further voice. But I do believe that now you are hushing me…” Boromir tried to lighten things.

Faramir chuckled softly. “You do not like it when the tables are turned, my love.”

“It is not the proper order of things for the younger brother to best the elder,” Boromir stated, putting on an air.

“And yet I manage to do it so well,” Faramir goaded, grinning like a little boy.

“Have a care what you start, little brother,” Boromir warned good-naturedly. “Or I will have to take you to the training ground and put your claims to the test. I would hate to crush your confidence.”

“Hah!” Faramir exclaimed indignantly. “I will always have the advantage of youth, old man.”

Boromir laughed heartily and embraced Faramir, pulling the younger man atop him and ruffling his hair. Faramir grinned and brought his lips to his husband’s, kissing him lovingly. Boromir’s arms tightened around the lean, lithe ranger as their tongues dueled passionately.

When their lips parted Faramir whispered, “Come to my quarters, my dearest, my glorious husband. Your presence will not be missed ‘til morning light. Rest with me, as wedded couples do.”

Boromir caressed Faramir’s cheek lightly. He could not resist such a temptation. “I will retire to your bed, love. I would not miss an opportunity to hold you in my arms.”

The two men rose and pulled on just enough clothing to make it through the streets decently, carrying the rest and the blanket in their arms. The stain of Faramir’s seed was already receding into the porous stone—the only evidence of their activities in the garden.

In Faramir’s chamber they held each other tightly until desire welled. They made love once more before morning, Boromir moving atop Faramir as their arms and legs tangled to crush every last space between them. They became one being, fully united, sealing the magic of the night and engraving every detail of the entire set of encounters in their memories. They would cherish even the melancholy, worried moments, for it was the fullness of their trust and intimacy that allowed them to be vulnerable together. Everything they experienced as husbands and brothers was nourishment that sustained them when they endured the torture of being apart.

There was little chance for sleep before dawn came, but neither felt worse for the wear. They gave each other everything they needed.

Chapter 4: The Welcomed Haunt

After their coupling the man and the ghost laid on their backs against the green of Boromir’s memorial, gazing at the stars. It was much like the memorable night in Faramir’s garden, but now they knew the conclusion of Boromir’s dreaded chain of events, and the fruition of Faramir’s visions. They had survived the worst, even in such an unusual way. There had been fear, and pain, and terrible heartbreak, but they were together once more.

There was nothing but complete serenity between them. It filled the very air and seemed to spread upon Emyn Arnen like a warm blanket. It was the peace of the light of love, emanating from both. The fourth age was upon them. Sauron was defeated. Their hearts were full—they were reunited, Faramir’s relationship with Legolas flourished, and the knowledge of the infant Elboron’s healthy and happy growth in Rohan pleased them.

“I will never leave you again,” Boromir whispered. “Always I will come to you, and you will ever know my love, my touch, my adoration.”

“And ever I will be yours, my love,” Faramir replied. “You are generous to return to me, and to share me in the times when you cannot be fully present.”

“I want you to be happy forever,” Boromir stated. “You have endured too much sorrow in your life. It is within my power to give you content now, little one.”

“I am content,” Faramir sighed sleepily. “At last.”

“At last,” Boromir replied, kissing the slope of Faramir’s jaw. “Sleep in peace, my brother, my husband. I will watch over you.”

Faramir nodded slowly as unconsciousness fell upon him. He gave himself freely to sleep, freely to only the best and brightest of dreams. Nothing haunted him now—nothing but the specter of his dead brother, and he was a welcomed haunt indeed.

The End, but look for further vignettes and full stories in the series…

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