Faramir Fiction Archive

The Secret Widower (NC-17)

Written by Nissi

06 September 2006 | 17983 words

Chapter 3: The Captain’s Birthday, the Captains’ Love

In the crisp, fresh air, snuggled with Boromir, Faramir had slept deeply and long. He woke to find himself bundled in blanket and his brother’s cloak, but Boromir was no longer beside him. Faramir sat up swiftly.

“Easy, little one,” Boromir’s sonorous voice rang out from nearby. “I’m right here.”

Faramir turned his head and smiled softly. “Good morning, brother.”

Boromir sidled up and knelt, placing his hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “Good morning, Faramir,” he cooed as he bent forward and graced the crown of the younger man’s head with a tender kiss. “Happy birthday.”

Faramir beamed. “Thank you,” he responded politely. His eyes met Boromir’s as the older man righted himself.

“Thirty years of age,” Boromir spoke gently. “It hardly seems possible that I’ve had you in my life for thirty years. Time passes quickly.”

“Thirty years. Do you tire of me?” Faramir asked jokingly, a glint in his eye.

“I tired of you after twenty,” Boromir replied, teasing.

Faramir hit his brother’s arm in protest, but laughed all the same. Beneath his laughter, his stomach rumbled angrily. “Hungry,” he grunted.

“I’d hoped you would be. I worry sometimes you don’t eat enough. But never fear. Breakfast is ready,” Boromir smiled, rising and carrying over a plate filled with foods.

Faramir eyed the offerings. He beamed from ear to ear as he lifted a small green pearl from the plate. “Olives!”

“Your favorite,” Boromir smiled in return. “Gathered them this morning.”

“You’ll spoil me,” Faramir replied happily, popping the olive into his mouth and chewing the pit clean.

“With any luck. It’s your birthday. You’re meant to be spoiled!” Boromir proclaimed.

Boromir had always been careful to make a fuss on Faramir’s birthday. Even when he knew they’d be apart, he planned surprises to make the day special. The previous year duties kept him away from home, so he planted small gifts in well-hidden locations and bid a trusted servant to give Faramir the initial clue as to where to hunt for them. The activity had taken Faramir the entire day, which was no bad thing. Faramir never received the sort of celebration that Denethor gave Boromir. Their father afforded the younger man one gift and the freedom to spend the day however he wished, excusing him from his duties. In contrast, Boromir was showered with presents and an enormous feast, replete with fireworks over the courtyard of the tree.

The older man watched his brother’s face as Faramir sucked thoughtfully on the olive pit. “You don’t have to nurse that one, you know,” Boromir grinned. “Plenty more to go.”

Faramir cheekily pursed his lips and spit the pit an impressive distance. He lifted another olive from the plate and silently repeated the process. His brother accepted the challenge, and soon they were rocketing pits through the clearing as fast as their teeth could clean them. The sound of their laughter filled the air as the competition reached a fevered pitch.

In the light of day, playing like children, neither man had time or opportunity to focus on their unresolved desires.

When the olives were gone, Boromir ventured, “Did father tell you of your gift before we left?”

Faramir nodded. “During your feast. He bartered a number of horses from Rohan and has given me choice of them when we return. My steed grows old,” he explained.

“A new horse is a fine gift!” Boromir said excitedly.

“Aye,” Faramir could not disagree. “My mount is bay, as have been all my horses since my very first, and I would like something different. I hope to find a red chestnut. Or perhaps even a red dun!”

“Their color reminds me of your hair, at times,” Boromir mused quietly, with a smile.

Faramir studied his brother’s face, his piercing blue eyes raking over him until Boromir could no longer stand the force of them. He stood and rummaged through his pack. He returned to Faramir bearing an object wrapped in cloth, bound with a suede strip.

“What’s this?” Faramir queried, taking the item from his brother.

“A gift. Open it and you will see!” Boromir replied enthusiastically.

His little brother eagerly unwrapped the present. His eyes widened as he revealed a beautiful dagger, sheathed in an intricately carved wooden scabbard. He withdrew the blade and marveled at its graceful shape. “It’s beautiful, Boromir. Wherever did you find it?”

“I had it forged. Commissioned specially for you, down to the last detail. Took two smiths and a woodworker, but I think it came out well,” Boromir responded with pride.

“Better than well. It’s spectacular,” Faramir enthused. He unbuckled his belt and slid the scabbard into place. “It will be very useful in the wild. I’ve needed a new one. I wore my old dagger down beyond reasonable sharpening. A knife’s a ranger’s tool, through and through. But no ranger in Gondor has such a blade as this at his side!”

“I’m glad you like it. It’s befitting of a Captain. I hope it brings you good fortune in the field,” Boromir said softly, his eyes glimmering. After a short period of silence he asked, “Shall we pack up and carry on? I thought we’d stay the course and find shelter along a stream. Plenty around here, for sure.”

Faramir nodded. “I know just the place. If you’ll suffer my leadership, I’ll get us there.”

Boromir grinned. “I think I can tolerate your guidance for a day. But only because it’s your birthday.”

“Of course,” Faramir winked, securing his belt as he stood and began to gather his things.

Boromir sat observing his brother as long as he dared. He watched the length and lines of Faramir’s movements. He admired the shape of Faramir’s body clad in his ranger kit. All of his wants came rushing back to him, and he forced himself to busy with the task of breaking camp to avoid staring obviously. Journeying again would be good. It would clear his mind to fall into the rhythm of step and enjoy their lush surroundings. Ithilien was breathtaking—it was easy to see why Faramir loved the countryside. In Boromir’s esteem Ithilien was to nature what Faramir was to men—a treasure in his midst.

The day was unseasonably warm, and both men shed pieces of clothing as they traveled. They had reached their place of camp with ample daylight for exploration. There was a small meadow abutted by forest, and amongst the trees rested pieces of the sort of ruin that dotted Gondor hither and yon. Faramir had delivered more than a mere stream; water cascaded down a hill in a picturesque fall. At the base a large pool had collected. Faramir explained that the water was warmed by the presence of a hot spring. The spot was a favorite of all rangers, as it offered a chance to bathe and unwind.

Boromir returned from gathering firewood to find his brother sprawled out in the meadow, wearing nothing but his tunic and breeches, enjoying the sun while reading a book.

“You brought a book?” Boromir laughed. “Did you expect my company to be so dull?”

Faramir put the book down and grinned. “You know it pains me to be relinquish my reading, even for a short time.”

“What do you do when you’re with your rangers, patrolling our borders? Surely you cannot carry tomes with you in the wild,” Boromir asked seriously.

“No, I must do without. At times I cannot even afford to carry papers and a quill. When my mind is not focused on survival, I…think about you,” Faramir admitted, his cheeks coloring red.

“Think about me?” Boromir echoed, smiling. He hung on Faramir’s words, hooked entirely by the lilt of his little brother’s voice.

“I conjure happy memories of our times together. I think about how you make me feel. I try to imagine you’re with me,” Faramir explained. Once he began talking, the confession became comfortable.

“How do I make you feel?” Boromir asked huskily as he strode to his brother, kneeling down beside him.

“You make me feel warm and safe,” Faramir began, looking into his brother’s eyes. His heart began to beat in quicker pace. “You make me feel strong and brave. You make me feel loved. You make me feel hopeful. You make me feel whole…”

Boromir lifted his hand and softly stroked the side of Faramir’s face. “I am happy that I inspire so many feelings in you, little one. I like knowing that you keep me with you when we’re apart.”

“Always,” Faramir nodded emphatically. “Do you think of me?” He asked in a small voice.

“Of course! All the time. You are my singular focus…when I defeat my foes, I think of you. I do it for you, so that you may be safe. When there is a lull in battle I wonder what you are doing—try to imagine your life at home, or in the wild,” Boromir explained.

Faramir smiled broadly. “Then we are with each other at all times. That is a comforting thought.”

“We will be with each other, one way or another, forever. We are both of the Dúnedain, though admittedly with lesser pedigree than some. Still, we will live long lives, and live them together. I fully expect to have you by my side when I become Steward, and I will never send you from my sight. You will be my most trusted advisor,” Boromir fantasized. “And we’ll spend as much time together as we desire. We’ll walk in your gardens, and you can teach me about your plants. You can read your books to me—I’ll even acquiesce to learning some elvish. The Sons of Gondor shall never be parted, if it is within my power to prevent it,” Boromir concluded.

Faramir listened to the fantasy with a loving smile, even though a voice at the back of his mind warned him that Boromir was tempting fate. No man could tell his future with absolute certainty. While it was a likely outcome that Boromir should become the 27th Steward of Gondor when Denethor died, to speak of it prematurely seemed to invite disaster.

“That is a wonderful fantasy—being ever by your side is the stuff of dreams. But…” Faramir shifted the topic away from Stewardship, “…when you have a wife and children, you will not want my presence as much as you feel you do, now.”

Boromir waved his hand dismissively. “You do not know that.”

“I can guess it,” Faramir said softly. He sensed he was treading very close to a subject of annoyance for his brother, so he stepped softly.

“You do not know how I feel,” Boromir protested.

“How do you feel?” Faramir asked gently, placing his hand on Boromir’s arm.

Boromir sighed. He shed his shell and allowed his little brother in, allowed Faramir to see his insecurities plainly. “I feel as if no woman in Gondor will ever satisfy me.”

Faramir quirked an eyebrow. “Who will?”

Boromir shook his head. “A wife and children are not what I desire. No…there is one who will satisfy me; it is but a dream.” He remained deliberately vague.

“Who is she, this mysterious source of satisfaction? Why can you not have her? Boromir, son of Denethor, can have any woman he wants…” Faramir pressed the issue.

Boromir stared at the ground as if he was trying to bore a hole with his eyes. “Not a woman,” he muttered.

Faramir’s jaw dropped. “A man?” He knew the passions shared between soldiers, but he’d never thought it would result in true love or lasting contentment for his brother.

Boromir nodded slowly. “But not just any man, you see? A man I can never have.”

Faramir tilted his head. “He’s a fool if he will not give himself to you, even taboo as it is in the city.”

Boromir bit his lip. “He has no idea of my feelings for him. He’s never refused me…I simply have not told him. I am not sure…not sure how I could,” he stammered, realizing the conversation had reached a tricky point.

“Maybe you…just tell him. The worst that could occur is that he rejects you. It is better to be rejected than to spend your life pining and regretting inaction.” Faramir felt somewhat hypocritical, as he held his secret love for Boromir without any intent of revelation. Boromir was everything to him. If he lost him, there would be nothing in his life worth the effort of living.

Boromir fell back onto his heels, his shoulders slumped. Faramir draped his arm across his brother’s shoulders. “I hate to see you so disturbed, my brother. You’re hurting and conflicted; I can see it in your eyes. I wish I could take it all away.”

“Oh…Eru…Faramir, what’s happening to me?” Boromir buried his face in his hands. “Forgive me, little brother. Please forgive me,” he begged as his voice broke with emotion.

Faramir was utterly confused. “Forgive you? For what? You know you need give no apology for speaking freely with me. We are each other’s safe haven.”

Boromir shook his head. “That is not my offense,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Then what is? Please, Boromir, tell me,” Faramir requested, smiling encouragingly. “Let me in just a little further…”

Boromir closed his eyes. Faramir moved closer, pressing to him. He brushed his lips against Boromir’s temple. “Have no fear,” Faramir whispered.

“Faramir…” Boromir blinked hard to hold back the tears that were pricking at his eyes. “It’s you, it’s you. It has always been you.” He broke down and wept, a rare occurrence for the gem of Gondor.

Faramir instantly enfolded his brother in a warm embrace, catching Boromir’s cheek against his shoulder and supporting every part of him. Boromir’s tears wetted his tunic. His words rung in Faramir’s ears…”always been you”…and Faramir came to an earth-shattering realization. It was him. Boromir was in love with him!

He felt nearly paralyzed with the weight of it. He had carried his own love quietly, never expecting that Boromir would feel the same. Now his big brother was crying in his arms, wracked with everything Faramir was feeling, too. Faramir tightened his grip and reached up, tangling his fingers in Boromir’s hair. “It’s alright, brother,” he crooned soothingly.

Boromir sighed. “No…it’s not alright…I shouldn’t have said that, Faramir. I should not have placed that upon you. It is my burden, it needn’t also be yours. And on this, of all days, your birthday…”

Faramir listened to his brother drone apologetically and, impetuously, tugged Boromir’s head back. He looked down at his brother’s tear-reddened face. Faramir twisted his head to an opposite angle and pressed his lips to Boromir’s. Softly and stilly he held them there, until his brother’s sob breaths subsided and he nuzzled into the kiss. Faramir lifted his head and pulled his face away a distance enough to clearly see Boromir—to read his expression and search his eyes.

Boromir looked incredulous. He seemed to be struggling to speak. Finally he asked, “Why?”

Faramir traced the line of the older man’s jaw with his fingertips. “Because I wanted to,” he whispered in reply.

“Because you feel sorry for me?” Boromir queried, shuddering.

“Because I love you, Boromir. Beyond brotherhood…” Faramir explained, smiling softly.

When Faramir’s words had registered, Boromir grasped his little brother’s head and sank into a passionate kiss. Faramir moaned softly, the sound igniting white-hot arousal in his older brother. The younger man parted his lips to accept the probing of Boromir’s tongue, happily snaking his own against the invading muscle.

When both men were breathless they pulled apart. “Faramir…” Boromir whispered. “I love you too…”

Faramir slowly stretched out on the ground and held out his arms to his brother. Boromir eagerly cast off his vest and crawled atop the younger man. They showered each other with tiny kisses and laughed softly as they cuddled.

As the sun began to set Faramir quieted, watching his brother wreathed in the fiery orange glow. “I love you…I want this…but Boromir,” Faramir swallowed. “I am frightened.”

“Frightened?” Boromir asked curiously. “Of what…being with a man?”

Faramir bit his lip. “Well, there is that…”

Boromir looked surprised. “You haven’t ever…when abroad?”

Faramir shook his head. “No, brother mine. I knew men did it. I even stumbled on two men coupling, once, in Henneth Annûn. But I have never done it myself.”

“Why, Faramir? Haven’t you desires?” Boromir questioned without judgment.

“I have experienced little sexual desire in my life. I think, perhaps…on reflection…the whole of my interests have been in you, though I did not realize it until recently. But as you said, there was no satisfaction to be found elsewhere,” Faramir explained.

“I cannot withhold the truth from you, Faramir…I have been with men when away from home. But in a way…my experience will help us. I know how to make you ready,” Boromir stated, his arousal mounting once more. He kissed Faramir’s brow. “I know how to be gentle,” he continued, lowering his kiss to Faramir’s lips. “I know how to pleasure you,” he finished, drawing his lips down Faramir’s neck.

Faramir arched against the ground. “But Boromir, those are not the fears of which I speak.”

Boromir lifted his head and gazed into his little brother’s eyes. “Then what is your fear?”

“Only that this is forbidden. I fear what will happen if we are discovered,” Faramir sighed.

“Ah, little brother. It eats at me, as well. But…do we let it prevent us from finding bliss in each other? Do we—as you phrased it—spend our lives pining and regretting inaction?” Boromir smiled tenderly, smoothing back the younger man’s hair. “We can be careful. We know the ways of the White City. We are cunning.”

Faramir nodded. “I don’t want to live without knowing your touch.”

“Then you shall know it, little one, my love,” Boromir cooed. “And I will take care of you. You will want for nothing.”

“I have much to learn,” Faramir admitted, blushing. “I barely even know of my own pleasure, so infrequent have been my experiences with women.”

“We will discover together,” Boromir said confidently.

Faramir felt the pull of his older brother’s charms. Somehow everything seemed simple when Boromir addressed his concerns. He melted into a forthcoming embrace, sighing as Boromir’s lips kissed and suckled his face, neck, and ears. Boromir rearranged his body so that his hardness pressed into Faramir’s groin, both separated by the leather of their breeches. Even with the layers between, Faramir felt the heat of his brother’s cock as his own stiffened in response.

“Come to the pool with me, my beloved,” Faramir whispered.

“Anything you wish, Faramir,” Boromir replied with a wide smile.

The two men rose, gathered the discarded clothing, and walked leisurely into the forest. They knew they had ample privacy and all the time they’d need to explore what was unfolding. With the nearly palpable chemistry between them, neither held any doubts that in the pool waited their first experience as brothers and lovers together.

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/the-secret-widower. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!