Faramir Fiction Archive

The Ritual (NC-17)

Written by Valkyrie

22 April 2004 | 36281 words

Title: Readying (Part 7/9)
Series: THE RITUAL
Author: Valkyrie (email)
Pairings: Aragorn/Faramir, Aragorn/Arwen (implied)
Rating: NC17
Archive: yes, but let know where
Warnings: male/male relationship
Summary: Is the day of the Ritual and Faramir must prepare himself.
Authors’ note: this is AU. Some things are loyal to Tolkien’s story; I have changed some events and invented all the rest. If you like to read things canon, this is not a story for you.
Feedback: kind words will be welcome and constructive criticism as well.
Disclaimer: The characters are property of J.R.R. Tolkien. I have not and will not receive any money for this story. It is free for all to read.

Beta Reader original version: Minx
Beta Reader revised version: Chris
What would I have done without you guys? All remaining mistakes are mine.

NOTE: Blocked texts mark the words written in the book of the Ritual.

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PART SEVEN – Readying

Faramir woke at first light in the morning. He had slept straight through the night without even waking up once. Aragorn was gone. Faramir smiled and stretched, he had not slept this well in a long time. His King definitely had a healing touch.

He suddenly remembered the entire pouting argument. He flinched inside and put his hands on his face, thinking he was reverting to his adolescence. He got out of bed and spied out of the window. Today was going to be a bright day, the sun was shining and no clouds were visible on the horizon. He wished to take a walk but he was not allowed to leave his rooms.

On The day of the Ritual the Steward must be cloistered in his rooms until a Councillor comes to retrieve him

He wondered about the fact that Aragorn might be getting ready for the crowning Ceremony. He wished he would be able to see such a magnificent act but he had to wait for whoever would retrieve him.

A knock on the door interrupted his reverie. He put on a robe and went to answer the call.

“Galen?” Faramir was surprised for surely the councilman would not retrieve him this early?

“Faramir, you must come with me now,” said Galen.

“Now?” repeated Faramir, his heart starting to beat wildly in his chest.

“You must prepare,” was Galen’s only answer

The Steward will be taken to the location where he will stay until the time of the Ritual

“Fine, let me change into—” Faramir started to say.

“That will not be necessary,” interrupted him Galen.

“But…,” Faramir started to protest again but seeing the futility of it, he complied and followed Galen through the empty corridors.

Faramir saw they were heading to the part of the tower that was mostly empty. He suddenly realized he was wearing no weapons and felt uneasy. He never parted from his weapons. Galen stopped in front of a room that had remained closed since Faramir could remember.

They entered the room and Faramir was surprised to see the room was well furnished, even better than his own rooms. The room had a bed with two bedside tables, four armchairs—two beside the fireplace in front of the bed and two more beside the luxurious curtain gracing the entire front wall. Near the entrance was another door, which led to a bathroom.

Galen went to one of the bedside tables and poured some liquid from a jar into a glass. He gave the glass to Faramir.

The Steward will cleanse his body of any remaining food and waste. He will not drink or eat anything during this process. Only when the process is done will the Steward drink the Nourishment specially prepared for this matter.

“You must drink this to empty your bowels,” stated Galen. “It will take effect within half an hour.”

Faramir took the glass, feeling embarrassed to no end. He had not had any idea what preparing would entail, but now he started to fear the whole situation would be humiliating. He drank the beverage in one long gulp.

A servant will bathe the Steward and shave all the hair from his face. During and after this the Steward must not touch himself until the Ritual is fulfilled.

“A servant woman will come at midday to help you with your bath, I will accompany her to give you further instructions,” said Galen.

“I can certainly bathe myself without any help, Galen!”

“Do I have to remind you that all that happens to you today was written to be so a long time ago?” answered Galen, his tone neutral.

Faramir averted his gaze and said nothing, trying to control the impotence he felt. It seemed the whole thing was about humiliation after all. How fitting! Was he ever going to have a respite?

“I will leave you on your own now. You will find everything you need in the bathroom. However, I warn you, you must not bathe under any circumstances until the servant woman takes care of that,” said Galen turning to leave the room. At the door the councillor halted, “You cannot leave this room, either. It is sealed. You can only leave here in my company, and though I know you would never desert your duty, this serves as well to not let anybody enter the room either,” finished Galen before exiting the room.

Faramir went to open the curtains. At least he could entertain himself looking out of the window. The Steward of Gondor was very surprised when he encountered only walls behind the curtains. He brought down the whole thing with one furious pull. What was the point of the curtain, then? It seemed the whole situation was prepared to immerse him in despair.

Suddenly, he felt nauseous. He barely had time to get to the bathroom when he threw up whatever was in his stomach. Did not Galen say half an hour? He felt helpless and was mortified to see the day had just started.

“Stop being worried, he will be fine,” said Arwen for the umpteenth time, walking to the window of their room.

Aragorn sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees and hands on each side of his temples. “You do not know what I will have to do to him, Arwen. I am afraid I may lose him over this,” said Aragorn, looking even more worried, if that were possible.

“Is it that bad?” asked Arwen, leaving the window to stand close to her husband.

Aragorn just closed his eyes, shaking his head from side to side. Feeling the spell work to prevent him from revealing what was not supposed to be known. He had a lump in his throat and his heart felt, as though something was squeezing it. He fought to get a grip on himself but could not prevent a silent tear from falling down his cheek.

Arwen sat by his side and embraced him tightly.

A knock on the door startled them both. Aragorn let go of Arwen’s comforting embrace and composing himself, bade the visitor behind the door to enter.

A guard in full armour entered the room. “The guard is ready for you, my King,” he said, bowing respectfully before the regal figure.

Aragorn nodded in response and extended his right hand to Arwen, which she promptly took. “Lead the way,” said Aragorn to the guard.

“It would be an honour, Sire, my Queen,” said the guard, bowing again before the two figures who were dressed in the rich garments designed for such an occasion.

The guard turned. In the hall waited a full honour guard consisting of eight armoured soldiers who took their positions as soon as the royal couple exited the room. Aragorn and Arwen walked behind the Herald of the Realm, and the guard of eight followed them.

Thus began the crowning ceremony of the King of Gondor.

Faramir had a wretched morning. Now it was midday and he lay on the bed, back facing the door, feeling weak and miserable. On top of everything, he was very thirsty and there was not a drop of water to drink in the room, unless he wanted to drink the water destined for his bath. He wondered if that was done on purpose to weaken any resistance and humiliate him further. He was waiting for the servant woman and Galen to make their appearance. He was so exhausted that he even did not have the strength to think about what lay ahead.

A noise at the door caught his attention and he turned his head in time to see Galen and the servant entering the room. Galen had a big package in his hands and the servant a plate with two jars and a glass. He averted his gaze again and ignored them.

Galen left the package on one of the chairs beside the curtain. “Raise yourself, Faramir, I have brought you water,” said the councillor, offering a glass from the plate the servant had brought.

Faramir started to raise himself into a sitting position and felt the room spin around him. Galen quickly put the glass on the bedside table and helped him lean comfortably against the headboard of the bed. He then took the glass again and held it against Faramir’s lips.

Faramir drank greedily; he raised his hand to hold the glass by himself and saw his hand was trembling badly. He had no choice but to accept Galen’s help.

“I did not think you would be this weak, Faramir, though we have to take into account that your body has sustained much strain lately,” said Galen, putting the empty glass aside.

“What did you expect?” said Faramir with a furious glare, “I am dehydrated!”

“It had to be that way, Faramir; it is part of the Ritual. This drink will replenish your strength,” said the councillor, pouring liquid from the other jar on the plate.

Faramir drank from the offered glass as well. “What is it? It is sweet, I have never tasted this drink before,” stated Faramir.

“It is a recipe specially prepared for this purpose,” answered Galen. “Do you feel better?”

Faramir raised a hand in front of his eyes and saw that it had stopped trembling. He sat up on the edge of the bed and realized that the room was not spinning anymore. “Yes,” said Faramir somewhat intrigued by such a sudden improvement, “I feel better already.”

“Well, then go with the servant and take your bath. But first, hear what I will say,” said Galen, “The servant will clean your body. You are not allowed to touch yourself. She will clean your private parts and you must let her do it. You can touch yourself only after the Ritual is completed. Do you understand what I am saying?” asked Galen.

Faramir felt all colour drain from his face. He had thought the servant would be helping him to bathe, pouring the water over him, washing his hair or something like that…but not this. It was one thing to take a bath with a woman who is your lover and from whom you would take with pleasure any touch she would give. But it was another thing to feel the impersonal touch of a stranger all over your body, doing tasks that only you had done until this day. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm the rage he was starting to feel. It was futile to get angry. He had agreed to be subjected to this, though certainly he did not know the preparation’s details. He opened his eyes and looked at Galen.

“I understand,” he answered.

“I will wait here and prepare your attire. Go now then,” finished Galen.

Faramir followed the servant into the bathroom. He started to take his sleeping robes off but the servant halted his hands with her own looking at him apologetically. He dropped his arms in defeat.

The servant took the outer robe and then bade him to raise his arms to divest him from the sleeping gown. Faramir felt his entire body turn a deep shade of red, yet again. He felt so ashamed. The servant, then, placed a hand on his elbow and instructed him to enter the tub, first one leg and then the other. The servant bade him to sit and Faramir did so, gripping the edges of the tub during the entire bathing process, his knuckles white from the effort he was making to not jump at every touch. Only when the servant asked for his hands to wash them and to clean and cut his nails, did he let go of the edges, holding them again when she was done. She also cleaned and cut the nails on his feet.

The servant washed his hair and shaved his beard, all of it. At first, he thought the servant had made a mistake and he started to protest but she gave him another apologetic look and he knew this was part of it, too. His beard, he would look like a child now! His beard was for a reason! He gripped the edges of the tub harder, if that was possible.

The woman emptied the tub and poured fresh water. She washed his ears, his torso and his arms and then, bade him to stand up. He looked hesitantly at her but did as she wanted in the end. She started to clean his legs and Faramir closed his eyes trying to think of something else. She then cleaned his private parts, thoroughly, and Faramir missed the anchor the edges of the tub gave him.

More water was poured over him and then the woman bade him to step out of the tub. She waited with a mantle in her hands, which she used to dry his body. When she finished she left the mantle over his shoulders and Faramir was relieved that at least this part of his ordeal had ended. He took the edges of the mantle to wrap it around his body and walked to the exit of the bathroom but the servant indicated him towards a stool. It seemed this ordeal was not finished yet after all.

The Steward will be anointed with oil which will be prepared as told in this Book.

The servant retrieved a bottle from the stool. She approached him again and he took a step back; he wished that she was not going to do what he thought she was going to do. He looked at the bottle in her hands and watched mesmerized as she took the lid off and poured some of it in her hands. He could smell the sweet fragrance of the oil. She motioned him to let go of the protective mantle and he reluctantly complied.

Putting the oil bottle aside, she started to spread the oil all over his body; his face, torso, arms, back, buttocks and legs. However, she spared him what he dreaded the most. When she finished, Faramir released a sigh of relief. He expected to feel clammy, when the woman spread the oil on his body, but his skin seemed to have absorbed the oil. He motioned to recover his mantle but the servant did not let him. Then the woman indicated him to exit the bathroom. The whole thing was getting worst with every passing moment. How could he face Galen again when the man had seen him like this?

Galen was waiting sitting on a chair. Faramir noticed that some garments and items were spread on the bed. He looked at the councillor again, feeling his face redden with shame for he was unaccustomed to men seeing him completely naked. He had been oblivious to it when he was younger and he did not know about the duty he one day might fulfil. But, since the day he was told about the tradition followed by the Steward and Royal Lines and learned about the nature of the test he might endure, he became more and more aware of his body. He instinctively tried to cover himself.

The servant guided him to a chair beside the fallen curtain. She dried his hair methodically with a towel and then took a brush and combed it. When she finished, she bowed and left silently the room.

“I will dress you now, Faramir,” said Galen, motioned him to stand up and get close to the bed where the garments awaited.

“Why am I not surprised?” muttered Faramir to himself.

Galen took what seemed to be a long white loincloth. Faramir saw that the thing consisted of two pieces linked at one side by a clasp and a fitting set of ring and clip on the other. Galen placed the cloth around his waist and clasped the set; the cloth fell low on his hips. As it was, Faramir thought, the thing would cover his front and buttocks if he remained unmoving. He did not want to think what would happen when he walked because the loincloth was open at both sides, all the way up to where it rested on his hips. But then it did not matter for the cursed thing left nothing to the imagination. His mortification was now complete.

Galen motioned for him to extend his arms at his sides. The councillor helped him pass first one arm and then the other through the sleeves of a blue long tunic. The tunic was open on the front, left side wider than the other, and Galen clasped the left upper end to his right shoulder with an ornamental clip. The tunic looked now like a long robe. Galen retrieved a belt, which was made of some kind of metal, and secured it around his waist.

Next the councillor retrieved from the bed a pair of items that looked like thin manacles and put one on each of his wrists, a clicking sound announcing that they were secured. Another set similar to the manacles was secured on each of his ankles. Faramir did not like the fact that each one of the things had a ring protruding from them, as though to secure them to something else.

No footwear was provided.

Faramir was ready now.

When the moment comes the Steward must follow the Councillor to the Royal Chambers and when the Steward is at the King’s door he must knock three times.

“It is time, Faramir, you must follow me,” said Galen.

Faramir’s heart started to pound fiercely. He followed Galen through the corridors toward the royal chambers.

They arrived at the King’s chambers where two guards in full armour were posted. He felt his face burn from embarrassment at being in such robes and barefooted on top of it. Galen left him and Faramir knocked as told, his heart pounding madly in his chest.

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