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The Strangest of Dances (NC-17) Print

Written by Eora

17 March 2013 | 19768 words

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Author’s Note: Oh dear, have I kept you on a knife’s-edge? ;) Okay, I don’t believe it was that big of a cliffhanger, but rest easy now, for now you get to find out what happens next…

Chapter 5.

I think I meant, somehow, to say that I had done so much to forget, to make it as it was between us, as friends only. To prove to him that I was not some heartsick pest. But the damage was done. His face crumpled for just an instant, but I caught it and it tore through my heart like a knife. He turned from me, and though I’ll never know I pray to all the gods there are that I did not bring him to weep.

“We should be getting back,” he said, and didn’t look at me as he passed me, walking back the way we had come. Why am I such a damnable fool? I looked at the empty clearing and felt sick; he had probably wanted to kiss me here, in this secret, wintery place. I wanted to shake myself, kick my own backside, and probably would have attempted it but I had to get to Faramir and make him see that I was as great an idiot as I’ve always secretly assumed he thought I was. (Make no mistake, my thoughts at this time were about as clear as that last sentence.) I ran after him, crashing through the trees, so un-rangerly.

“Faramir!” He didn’t stop. I slowed to a walk, unwilling to catch up to him completely. “Faramir!” I called again, but he took no notice. I set my jaw. “Good gods Faramir, as your king I command you to halt and listen to me.”

He stopped, but didn’t turn. I suppose I deserved as much and so I set about explaining myself to the back of his head.

“Faramir,” I said, and was immediately at a loss. “I don’t even know how to-…look. You’ve been saying it for a long time but you’re right, you’re always right. I do need all the help I can get. I need your help Faramir. I need you.”

He shifted, I could tell he was looking up at the treetops. “That’s fine, Aragorn. I’ll always be here.” His voice was so devoid of emotion, defeated. “I know how you feel, now, and that’s fine too.”

“You don’t understand,” I said, knowing of no way to make him understand either. I ran my hands over my face. “Since that day in my study I’ve spent every spare moment trying to forget you, trying to put from my mind your image, trying to distract myself with work and weapons-practise and the gods know what else so that I wouldn’t dream of you.”

“I commend your dedication, my king.” The title sat ill with me, but it was no time for corrections.

“I told myself over and over, I didn’t love you. I didn’t love you. I told myself enough times that I started to believe it.” Exhausted all of a sudden, I leant against a tree, dislodging snow from the branches that fell in clumps around my feet. “I told myself I didn’t love you, but the thing is, all of those attempts at forgetting you failed.” He had half-turned, and I know he could see me in his peripheral vision but I didn’t draw notice to it. “Faramir, I love you desperately.”

He looked up at me with an expression I couldn’t read. “You’re just an idiot?”

“Yes!” I practically shouted. “Yes,” I repeated, mastering myself. “Gods, Faramir, please don’t say I’ve ruined this again. I can’t believe I could have had you all those months ago and here I am again, letting what brains I have rule my heart.”

In a moment, what brains I had would alert me to the inexplicable truth that Faramir, by his own admission, returned my affections, but right now all I could focus on was Faramir himself, a streak of golden flame walking toward me through the whiteness of the winter wood. He came very close, so close that I could feel his breath on my face, warm as the longed-for summer. He was beautiful.

“I forgive you,” he said in a low voice. And then, he kissed me.

All I remember is that his lips and tongue were cold, that his fingers were like icicles where they framed my face and yet my innards were on fire and that I kissed him back with my eyes open. It was over so fast; a brief confirmation, lingering long enough to shatter any illusions of chastity, just a promise, but it was enough. I shivered as he withdrew, and he reached up again, running the backs of his fingers over the side of my neck.

“Is this happening?” I breathed, and I remember expecting some snide remark, an ‘of course this is happening, you stupid oaf!’ or some such. But Faramir, he looked at me–and I told myself we were on uneven ground, for I was sure he was looking down at me, though only by the smallest degree–he looked at me, and he smiled the widest smile I think I‘ve ever seen upon his face.

“Yes,” he said, and we walked back to the house hand in hand.


The winter nights in Ithilien set in early and lasted long; but despite mutually unacknowledged but rather obvious attempts at prolonging supper for as long as possible, there were only so many ways one could play with the crumbs on one’s plate before one must give up, have the servant clear the table and direct one’s thoughts to bed.

You’d be forgiven for assuming that we were all over one another the moment we set foot over the threshold to Faramir’s home, but we weren’t. Surprising, perhaps, given my deranged longing and Faramir’s newly confessed ardour, but when we’d taken off our cloaks and stamped the snow from our boots and Faramir turned to me and said “Hungry?”, I could only nod with enthusiasm. It felt to me like Faramir was nervous about this small change in our dealings with one another; I know I was terrified, so why wouldn’t he be apprehensive, and putting dinner in the way of intimacy? My stomach wasn’t going to hold it against him.

When the plates had been taken away Faramir took a long time to get to his feet. It was his house, I thought, so let him lead the way. He stood, and glanced at me, and then smiled shyly, picking at a knot in the wood of the table with a fingertip.

“I’m fair tired,” he said.

“Me too,” I said, for lack of anything useful. I yawned. “I suppose–,” I continued, when the silence stretched. “–that we might as well go to bed.” Oops. “I mean, turn in. To our beds. Separately, maybe. If you want.” I’ll warrant my rallying speech at the Black Gate could hardly rival that for eloquence.

“Let’s decide when we get to the top of the stairs?” A genius, that man. I nodded again, and rose, head spinning as the blood rushed from my feet. I followed Faramir in silence, climbing the stairs without incident. It was dark at the top, and I walked immediately into the back of him when he stopped at the crossroads. Ahead were two doors; on the right, my bed chamber; on the left, Faramir’s.

“I don’t want to rush this, Faramir. I can wait, if you’d rather we…didn’t…” I made a face; I made it sound as if I was desperate to lie beside him, which, of course, I was. But I didn’t want a quick fumble ‘neath the sheets, a riotous rutting with no foundation. I wanted him, I wanted life with him. And for that I would wait forever.

Faramir’s tone was thoughtful, his voice quiet. “It’s cold in my room, even with the fire.” I could see what he was doing, and warmed to it. Start small, nothing too frightening. “We might just…cuddle, for a while.”

We both laughed at the same moment, which was a relief. “Cuddle? That sounds like something hobbits might do.”

“I have little knowledge of the bed-habits of hobbits,” Faramir said, and I actually, almost, hand on heart, giggled. (Hobbit habits. The tension was making me giddy, that was all.)

“Well, I would hate for you to be cold, Faramir.” And that seemed to settle it.

Inside the bedroom, Faramir bent to the fireplace, lighting candles from the grate. I walked slowly about the room; it was large, and a door off to one side promised the bath chamber I‘d made use of the previous day. In the centre stood a sturdy wooden bed frame, almost bowing beneath the heap of furs and blankets piled upon it (he’d be hard pressed to feel a chill under all of that, I thought with a smirk). A wide bay window opened out from the east of the room; though the curtains were now drawn, I imagined Faramir in the morning pulling them open, the new sun lighting faerie-beacons in his eyes. A noise distracted me. I turned; Faramir stood by the fire, his hand on the mantel.

“Will you come here?”

There were candles all about him and his hair seemed alight. I approached, my hand meeting his as he reached out to me. I was very aware of my own breathing. In, out. Just keep doing that and you’ll be fine. The heat from the fire was burning me up inside. We faced one another. (He was taller than me, but I didn’t care about something so silly as a half-inch any more.) When I kissed him, (and of course I kissed him; how could I not? You have no idea how beautiful he was in that moment, with the candles creating a halo about him, his shirt collar sitting just-so, the shadow of his beard upon his chin and throat, the slope of his nose…) it wasn’t like it had been in the woods. His tongue wasn’t cold, his lips not icy, and his stance now wasn’t so dominant; instead of cradling my face this time I felt his hands sneak around my waist, holding me there gently. I tried to tell him how much I loved him through that kiss; my tongue was light, tenderly seeking his. I closed my eyes this time, though I could still see him before me as clear as day.

We were standing apart; I let him pull me closer (or rather, I stepped forward and his hands stayed on my hips) and I wrapped my arms around him, pressing our bodies together. He murmured, and I broke from the kiss, resting my forehead against his. I liked this, I liked this a lot.

“Shall we…?” he asked, and his eyes darted in the direction of the bed and then back to mine. I nodded, and we melted apart, and what followed was the most awkward ritual of undressing I have ever experienced (awkward for me in any case). I let Faramir lead, for I didn’t want to usurp his side of the bed unintentionally (though I doubt he was that fussy). He rounded the bed, and we came to stand on either side of it; without much ado, he threw me a smile and began unlacing his shirt. My cue to begin hurriedly shedding clothing, but halfway out of my shirt I had a horrible quandary; exactly how unclothed should I become? In my own bed I slept in the nude, but this was not my own bed. I snuck a glimpse at Faramir through the collar of my shirt (it was still mostly over my head; I was feigning an entanglement that bought valuable moments in which to reassess the situation). He was so nonchalant, the way he elbowed his way out of his shirt and began wriggling out of his breeches. Soon, he stood but in smallclothes and undershirt and he made quick work of the latter, flinging it over the back of a nearby chair before raising his head to look at me.

“Are you quite alright in there?” Gruffly, I nodded, and then realised he could not see me through my linen prison. I threw off the shirt.

“I’m just…sort of-”

He looked at me kindly. “You have nothing I’ve not seen before.”

He wasn’t standing there without confidence, but neither was he showing himself off, he just stood there, unconcerned with his lack of apparel (though he was wearing an undergarment, and, gods he wasn’t yet aroused but I could see the impression of his manhood against the cloth and I thought I might expire from a combination of fear, lust and longing); he didn’t care, I noticed, what I (or anyone) might think of him beneath his garb. And of course, truthfully I didn’t really care what he thought of me but the fact that I was admittedly a lot older than he kept niggling at the back of my mind, and I became rather privately (and sillily) concerned of what wrinkles he might find in what undignified places and what he would think about them which only added to my hesitation.

He wasn’t perfect either, mind you. But I think I only grew fonder of him because of that.

I hurled off my undershirt and rid myself of my own breeches in short order but my worries were groundless; Faramir wasn’t even looking, busying himself with the removal of roughly forty-seven layers of bedclothes. I laughed.

“If you find any mithril in your excavations I know a dwarf who’ll gladly take it off your hands.” I could tell he was smiling even though he faced away, my stomach turned over in delight. I moved to the side of the bed, lifting the last (or so I hoped) blanket in order to climb beneath it although I only managed as far as sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“What will the servants think?” I said jokingly, though there was no way Faramir missed the nervousness in my voice I so gaily tried to mask. This was supposed to be romantic, I kept remembering, at least fake some seductive tones.

“I dare say I don’t pay them to think about the implications of discovering us in bed together.” Gruffness, and a wry glance. I relaxed a little; if he wasn’t bothered, then neither was I (in theory). “Anyway,” he continued, “everyone in the realm knows I’m your favourite.” He clambered into the bed, pulling his side of the blanket up over his lap.

Worried for a moment, I paused in my following him. “What if people think I coerced you? You know, ‘you’re my favourite so I took what I wanted because I’m the king,’ that sort of thing.”

He reached for me, pulling me by the hand into the bed. “Then I shall stand up before the court and set them straight.” We were sitting beside one another now, and he slid closer, his warm thigh against mine. “Time for bed, Aragorn.” And he drew me down, down, until we lay facing one another. I could feel the heat of him radiating; I decided to be bold and slung my arm over his waist. He liked that, moving closer so that our chests and bellies aligned. Our legs tangled, and our foreheads came together once again.

“Cuddling…” I smiled and so did he, and then we were smiling against one another, a joyful kiss. I was fully hard, and suddenly I didn’t even care if he discovered it (which I‘ll say was fairly inevitable). I wanted him, I wanted him to touch me. I moved my arm, running my hand up and down the valley of his lower back, and then, in a fit of boldness, reached down and found out just how firm his backside was (quite).

He liked that too because he made a pretty little noise of encouragement and moved his lower body closer, close enough now that my cock, still trapped beneath my smallclothes, was pressed up against some angle of him that I could not identify and oh gods, oh gods, I must be crude and tell you he felt damn good against me.

It was a bit of a blur after that; our kiss never ended, but we gave up on any pretence of cuddling rather quickly in lieu of a bordering-on-desperate embrace, grinding hips and pliant bodies. I was on top of him somehow, kissing, kissing until my lips and tongue were raw, his bent knees colliding with my hips. He reached up and began pushing my underclothes down; suddenly I was afraid, what if he found me after all of this… inadequate? Unattractive, incompatible? But it was too late, there was a slight breeze around my nether-regions. I crawled out of my smallclothes and had little chance to think about the situation before Faramir’s fingers encircled me.

We had stopped kissing and I was panting, looking down at him (I dared not look at his hand). My hair was damp with sweat, and batted my cheeks as it hung down on either side; Faramir’s was a tumult beneath his head, drawn back from his high forehead by quick fingers, those same fingers that were now between my legs. A moment passed between us, and then he began to stroke me as I lowered my face to his and left a very shaky kiss upon his lips. I thought of reaching down and sliding my hand into his smallclothes but I was getting too excited (and the thought of taking him in my hand only excited me further), I needed him to slow down, to wait, Faramir!, wait!, but suddenly all I seemed fit to do was ram my face into the pillow and pray Faramir wouldn’t be disappointed in me as I came all over his belly and hand with a shout and a violent shudder.

Mortified, I collapsed on top of him and just lay there, face hidden. Only now did I feel his own manhood pressing up into my stomach, stiff and waiting. It was awful, and the receding waves of a rather intense orgasm weren’t helping anything at all. I felt Faramir’s arms loop around my middle, and the kiss pressed into my ear.

“Are you alright?” he asked after an excruciatingly long moment.

“I’m so sorry,” I said into the pillow, then turned my face to his, cheeks burning. “I don’t usually…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence out of embarrassment.

He was smiling kindly, bless him, though a sheen of sweat coated his forehead and I felt even worse for his missing out. “Happens to us all, don’t worry about it.”

“I want to die,” I said.

“Was it that bad?”

I thought for a moment. “I’ve not come that hard in a long time.”

“Well, then?” Faramir was still smiling, and one of his hands tousled my hair. “Think how terrible this relationship would be if it began with no chemistry whatsoever beneath the sheets.” He showed me his teeth in a grin. “I’m a bit flattered, actually, that I elicit such a reaction in you.”

“I promise it won’t happen again.” Propping myself up on one elbow, I reached down. “Let me make it up to you.” I ran my palm over his stomach; it was fingers slicked with my seed that gripped Faramir now, and I swear I felt the heat rise in me once again when I touched him; he was gifted, and the encouraging noises he was making soothed my rather bruised self-image. I made it up to him, and then, about an hour later when I realised there was no way on the earth I was going to be able to fall asleep, I kept that promise.

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25 Comment(s)

Oooh! Very good! Magical: so many words and you caught me in a wave of excitement. I like this Aragorn, and the explanation of Faramir. Ahh, sunshine and fun!

— Laivindur    Thursday 15 November 2012, 16:52    #

Why thank you! I’m glad it’s going down well so far; there will be more chapters in the upcoming weeks so I hope you enjoy those too! :)

Eora    Thursday 15 November 2012, 20:37    #

Very funny and unusual version of Aragorn and Faramir :). I like it!

— Nerey Camille    Friday 16 November 2012, 0:42    #

Thank you! It’s not exactly the most accurate portrayal of them both I admit but I’m happy it’s working out so far!

Eora    Friday 16 November 2012, 14:54    #

Oh lovely! I love the tone and the characterisation of both :) Looking forward to more!

Minx    Friday 16 November 2012, 18:51    #

Great Elephants! I snorted with laughter when I came to “… was not much of a royalist”. XD Not only because of the ironic tone, but also because this is a topic the book seems not to consider. In each halfway healthy society there are supposed to be at least some people who might have their reservations about the new king. I mean, one fine day he arrives, a total stranger, wins the war (which is not exactly his earning), claims absolute power and nobody objects? The last king has disappeared about 800 years ago and though everybody goes like “Hooray, monarchy´s back! Hail to the king!” Nothing against Professor Tolkien (how could I dare?), I think he was very familiar with the human mind and just decided to leave some realities out (instead of being totally naive regarding the way the hairless ape behaves) – yet I find it truly refreshing to read about a side character who doesn´t lose one hundred percent of his common sense just because YE Gods, it´s THE KING! ;)

You see, I´m already drifting, but at least I should take a minute to assure you of two things (just to make you sleep peaceful): First: It´s not funny, it´s hilarious. :) The lines are sparkling with wit like a glass of Veuve Cliquot, so to say (though I was told the humorous skills of champagne are rather limited). I can´t help but adore people who are good with words and even more if they manage to be both intelligent AND funny. And second: I would say it is totally in canon with movie Aragorn. I would even go further and say it is the sort of self-irony that would have fitted the book character. I love that inner dialogue that reveals a lot of Aragorn´s personal insecurity and shows a healthy down-to-earthness. There is a lot of Viggo in it – or the motion I have of him. :)

My second favourite part? “He was not as if carved from marble” and “I am not chiselled from stone either”. Thank you for that, dear. Thank you. Thank you. THANK YOU. It is not that there was anything wrong with a divine male body but… sometimes I´m fed up with all the clinical perfection. Bodies don´t have to be flawless to be desirable – as a matter of fact it is the flaws that make us love somebody. Perfection is admirable, but there´s also a scary aspect in it. Apart from that I´m pretty sure the body of a person who is used to hard physical work and spends most of their time outside is still different from a super-shaped highgloss model. – But it seems this comment is about to become an entry by itself. Actually all I wanted to say is: Beautiful and incredibly skilled work – please keep it going! :)

— raven22372    Friday 16 November 2012, 20:47    #

Minx- Thank you so much! The fic itself is actually complete so have no fear, I won’t leave you hanging! :)

Raven- Thank you!! :) Haha, I was almost hoping someone would pick up on that! :P Imperfection or perceived flaws only add to perfection in my opinion, and of course, no-one is perfect. I do try and strive for realism in my stories, no matter the implausibility of the plot-lines on occasion. I personally find it far more romantic when all of the inelegant bits are included, if you catch my meaning (so uh, I guess stay tuned for a later chapter where there is a rather undignified moment haha!)

I figure Viggo is a bit of a trickster (well I’ve heard/read interviews where he has quite the mischievous sense of humour) so I’m very humbled by your assessment that my portrayal of Aragorn here (and I will maintain that it is probably as far from canon as one might get) is something that plays to his sensibilities. Of course, I don’t believe that Aragorn was all noble and austere and all that 100% of the time. But I’m not sure if he would be quite so…well, misty-headed due to love as he will be in later chapters as well but this isn’t exactly aiming for utter realism in all aspects here :P)

And yes! I’m sure there are equal amounts of people who are all ‘Hooray, the king!’ and ‘Screw the king!’ and a bunch more who are ‘King who?’ Hopefully not enough of the second sort to cause any sort of problems, but I’m sure Denethor had his supporters, those who shared his opinions on certain political matters (but hopefully not on the inferiority of certain sons of his.) I think that healer, while not really malevolent, was purely of the justified opinion that after running about in the wilds for god knows how many days and weeks Aragorn was rightly in need of a scrub. I always watch the films and think, oh my, he’s so dreamy…but when did he last have a wash? In fact I think the part where he falls off the cliff during the warg attack is the only time he’s seen actually getting any sort of bath :P And during the coronation, of course, isn’t he so nicely groomed? See, Aragorn, it’s not so bad, really!

(P.S the email is incoming, I’ve been ill this week and basically useless, I’m sorry!)

Eora    Friday 16 November 2012, 23:24    #

Yes! It’s hilarious! :D A good laugh indeed ;) Thank you. Great portrait of the two ;) I love Aragorn like this.

— Laivindur    Thursday 29 November 2012, 19:56    #

“Was I any good?” HMWUAHAHAHA, goodness, that is a oneliner written in heaven!!! XDDD
Well, err – cough cough – yes. I can only suppose I feel that intrigued because of the statement´s strong contrast to the true persona of Faramir – who likely would never ever ask if he was good in bed. X) Your skills in dialogues are enviable, and just in case I forgot to mention it: so is your sense of humour. There are different ways to create humour and my most favourite is the one that comes from the use of language (in German it´s “Sprachwitz”, which means the witty, subtle dealing with language, but I couldn´t find any English equivalent, so I hope I can get across what I mean. Humble apologises at this point). I love the gentle and yet feather-light atmosphere, accentuated by occasional flashes of self-irony that, as sharp as it may be, never gets bitter. Truth be told, I could wallow in your writing for hours – what am I saying, days!

I was going to say ´poor Aragorn` but since the entire setting is so bright and drenched with warnth and easiness, I refuse to believe it will come to a bad end. And for the ´confessio interruptus´ scene in the stables (Please excuse my terrible puns. The later the hour the worse they get): for some inexplicable reason it seems absolutely natural to bring Faramir in line with horses. Of course, Aragorn as well, but that´s at least something one would expect, whereas the character of Faramir is not explicitly introduced as a rider… I can only hope it´s not my subconsciousness playing filthy tricks on me… XD

— raven22372    Friday 30 November 2012, 20:51    #

Oh, I like this Faramir! And this Aragorn is pretty cute too. Looking forward to more!
Thanks for sharing,

Iris    Sunday 23 December 2012, 10:25    #

How did I miss these comments! Please accept my sincere apologies!!

Laivindur- Thank you :P It is of course all meant to be read as quite tongue-in-cheek so I hope I don’t ruffle too many purists! I’m glad you’re enjoying it so far!

Raven- Yeaaaaah, I don’t know. I think I may have let a little of a certain actor’s imagined capriciousness and mischief seep into Faramir’s dialogue there, ha! I think it’s safe to say that this story is about as far from canon as you could possibly get, but all in the name of fun and doing something a little different. Honestly, I don’t know where this story sprang from, it really was just a few paragraphs I found on the computer which began weeks of furious typing to what effect I don’t yet know. I think I know also what you mean by Sprachwitz, though I can’t quite put it into a definition myself, but I thank you most sincerely. Aragorn’s meant to be very self-effacing, ironic, self-deprecating and very self-aware, and probably a bit dry though I may have just named a bunch of things there and you’re going…‘but where is this in the text?’ I’ve tried not to make either of them too sarcastic, because I think t’s the easiest sort of humour to write, and gets a bit repetitive after a while and less funny. Not that I really believe anything else I’ve typed up there is going to win any comedy awards but I digress :P

And as for Faramir and horses…well, I’ll let imaginations do what they will, but I do like to try and write him as more than just a ranger with bow and arrow. He’s maybe no Rohirrim horse-lord (or an Aragorn!) but I like to think he’s quietly very competent at a lot of things and makes no fanfare about it, horsemanship included. Modest, is our steward, except in the discussion of bedroom performance! ;) Thank you so much for your thoughts!

Iris- Thank you for reading so far, and there will be an update soon, I promise (I realised I’d not added the next chapter when I meant to but I didn’t want to update right as the Midwinter stories were going up and push someone else off the front page with something else by me, but the next part is forthcoming shortly!) There is plenty more where this Faramir came from, and Aragorn too ;P Glad you like it, as nonsensical as it may yet be!

— Eora    Wednesday 26 December 2012, 0:46    #

Oh-oh, my poor aching heart – and the poor aching corners of my mouth, too! For this is so loving and heart-warming, with the delicate sense of humour coming on velvet paws… I can´t even decide if I should laugh or cry and this is a compliment (and therefore true). :) Poor Aragorn, has cut off a speech that might have revealed something quite important, because he finds himself unable to stand the feeling of red-hot embarrassment for two single seconds longer. Don´t get me wrong, I´m not laughing at him at all. On the contrary, I find it incredibly loveable to see him cringing like that. ;) Challenging Sauron the Deceiver himself – HAHA, no problem! Facing twenty Uruk-Hai armed to the teeth (err, fangs) – not even worth a blink! But one word, one tiny more word that may contain even the slightest hint of a rejection – and he´s close to faint like anybody else in the same situation. And of course Faramir is even more lively and adorabe than ever, indeed, I can literally SEE his signature occupying half of the letter, with extra paraphs and the three little dots over the ´a´ (those Bilbo adds for decoration when writing his book).

If the tone of the narration wasn´t so warm and lighthearted I would almost worry about the end! But as things are the way they are I´m only afraid His Royal Majesty will find the clumsiest way of all to declare himself. ;) Or at least that is what he thinks about himself which makes him even more adorable. <3

— raven22372    Saturday 29 December 2012, 20:55    #

I lovelovelovelove it! The characters are, if not slightly ooc, delightful! There is one flaw, however… The abscence of MORE CHAPTERS!!! HURRY UP AND WRITE MORE! I AM ON MY KNEES! PLEASE!
This story is certainly a Brilliant, Lirimaer, PLEASE WRITE MORE!

collapsing and dying with need for more chapters

— Asëa    Monday 31 December 2012, 5:29    #

Ahhhaa, i’m so glad you’re enjoying it! :D And you can rest easy now, more chapters ARE most definitely on the way (the story is finished and sitting on my computer, but I think it’s better to leave the reader wanting more rather than flood everyone with the whole story all at once ;))

Thank you for your comment, it really made me smile! (And a happy new year!)

— Eora    Tuesday 1 January 2013, 16:04    #

Oops! Raven, I somehow missed your comment there! D: Forgive my blindness!

I think even kings get nervous too, and facing the truth over matters of the heart is often a far more intimidating prospect than facing off an army of orcs…so or I presume :P I know I’ve taken Aragorn’s character to almost the opposite extreme to that of the canon, I mean, I hardly see him in reality as being the sort to fumble over such things, though I do like to imagine him as being a little less stern in personality. I know the ring-quest was a rather serious undertaking, and that he does smile on occasion, but I like to think that as king, when not holding court or doing official things, he is at least a little more light-hearted when with friends!

Don’t hold off on worrying just yet, I’m sure our (in this case slightly hapless) king may yet have plenty opportunity to put his foot in it during events to come. Will there be a happy ending? Thing is, when I say that this piece is finished I may have left out the part concerning the very last chapter, and how there are a few paragraphs missing from the very end, so who knows how I decide to really wrap things up…:P I can promise you that Faramir will continue to be as lively as ever, though whether or not he is really receptive to Aragorn’s declarations is between me and my muse ;)

Thank you and happy new year! I hope you’ve had a wonderful one!

— Eora    Wednesday 2 January 2013, 0:24    #

Oh no no no! There´s absolutely no need to say sorry! I was perfectly well with a general reply. :) By the way, should I ever get the feeling that I somewhat lack the attention/praise I deserve I will ask myself “In this very situation, what would Faramir do?” Whereupon I will become all quiet and humble. Dealing with our beloved steward shapes the character, you know? :)

Perhaps the reason why our king tends to wrap himself into a slightly aloof attitude IS a certain fear of embarrassing situations? ;) Leaving book canon aside, I remember him rather dumbstruck when Gímli falls round his neck after his return from the death. And Éowyn´s cooking skills leave ihm cringing as well, and this is not aimed at the content of the stew… it just seems that common talk is one size too big for him – dealing with kings and lords is way easier! XD

Besides, and I will deny I ever said that: The Aragorn in the book, as admirable as he is, is not quite a loveable character. To me he appears rather distant towards ´normal´ people´s issues. I mean, he must have noticed Éowyn´s feelings and though he does not take any effort to clarify the situation. Any variation of “No thanks, I´m not interested because…” would have helped, but does he get off the fence? HAH!!

A doubtful happy end? NO NO NO NO NO, you won´t talk me into that! LALALALALALALALALA I cannot hear you!!!!

Okay, skip the last part. I´m far awy from pushing you into any direction. No, really. I am strong, I can deal with it! (sniffle)

— raven22372    Wednesday 2 January 2013, 21:33    #

Oh dear, I certainly didn’t intend to make you feel like Faramir does when he is ignored by his father :S You are not the lesser son! (What a strange metaphor…) But it is just as well that our favourite steward’s qualities are ones that we might take on ourselves and find we are not lit harshly by them :)

I think you are right, Aragorn (well, movie Aragorn) is a bit of a hypocrite I think, maybe. He is uncertain about his destiny, but then again doesn’t quite know how to place himself at the level of the ‘common man’ enough to not feel awkward when sampling Eowyn’s cooking or a jovial embrace from Gimli. Or maybe he feels perfectly at home as the anonymous ranger or soldier, but since his name and birthright is known to those he is surrounded by, maybe he feels he ought to behave a little more like a king should? And then Faramir comes along and Aragorn stumbles over himself in his mis-guided attempts to woo him, sort of :P

I would much rather have a more personable Aragorn, something about a king who is not only noble and wise but also kind and a good friend makes him all the more appealing. Poor Eowyn, though she does (canon-wise) end up with a rather acceptable husband in the end, don’t you agree?

Happy ending? What is that again? Hmm…let’s see, should I be kind to our boys or leave them hanging? ;P

Thank you again!!! :)

— Eora    Friday 11 January 2013, 22:30    #

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Man, what is your mouth doing to you? Don´t let it ruin your life!!! There are so many lovely things lips are capable of, go focus on those!!!

(cough cough) Err… well. I beg your pardon, I must have got carried away by my feelings. (sniff) Of course I would never try to take influence of any kind ever… ;)
What was I going to say? Ah yes. I CAN HEAR THEM. I swear I can hear their voices talking, so perfect you captured their tone. Faramir a little warmer, Aragorn a bit more mocking, but so well adjusted to each other. And then the images! This is a pictorial broadsheet full of beauty. The snow, the warm welcome, Faramir returning from his morning walk wet and in a slightly desolate state. No need to mention that now I feel inclined to draw those nightgowns…. oh my! :9

No worries, as a matter of fact I rather meant it like “dealing with out beloved Faramir Steward”. :) Really, sometimes when my huuuuuge ego is about to take me over, I try to remember what Faramir would do. “How important would this be to Faramir?” Occasionally it works (at least).

Quite an acceptable husband indeed HUM HUM HUM… definitely one for allday´s life, which you can´t say about (book) Aragorn. Most likely one has to be an immortal being to put up with so much supernatural nobility.

Beg your pardon again for this comment all shred into pieces. I´m not myself this morning, and now, after this enchanting reading, I have to go ponder about this night- err, shirt… :9

Totally irrelevant addendum: Ginger chest hair. (very shaky sigh)

And another one: “In my middle ages…” I absolutely support that! XD

— raven22372    Sunday 13 January 2013, 8:36    #

Whaaa! Noo! Let Aragorn stumble back to say that he do love him!
If you’re gonna torture them and us some more, please let it be alright asap at least!

— Laivindur    Sunday 13 January 2013, 20:23    #

YAY, the pitfalls are avoided!!! Rejoice, oh sons and daughters of Gondor, for the King´s clouded pate will be crowned with the halo of bliss again! \o/

Or, am I banging my drum too soon (eyes mistrustfully)? “To be continued”? What other cliffs are there to steer clear of? What is this new devilry the author is about to come up with? Do we have to fear for our heroes´ new found happiness???? /o\

(Cough cough) Err, sorry. Totally serious now. Erm. Yes. (Oxford voice on) Once more I´d like to point out how brilliantly the author points out the narrator´s insecurity and self- doubts, which is the more intriguing since he´s what one could call a person to be respected and used to deal with weighty issues. Also, mentioning the protagonists´physical averageness brings a refreshing breeze into the world of flawless superheroes and allows the reader to identify with them. And furthermore the writer of this comment would like to express her huge adoration for the author´s empathic writing and her subtle, affectionate sense of humor. (Oxford voice off, Dwarven voice on). May her beard never thin out! :)

— raven22372    Wednesday 23 January 2013, 13:17    #

Why am I so terrible at keeping up with comments? It’s not as if I’m not totally humbled by each one, I just seem to have the world’s worst attention span and get distracted by ten thousand other things and before you know it, two weeks have passed and I think to myself…time to post another chapt– hang on, the comments! D: So, please accept my heartfelt apologies again again forever again!

Laivindur, I’m very late in replying but hopefully your panic has been assuaged! Fret not, I really can’t be too cruel to these two for very long (even when writing more angst-ridden stories I can never finish them because I feel too sorry for everyone!) Thank you!

And Raven, my eternal inspirer (your coronation-rehearsal story is so very nearly finished…a paragraph or two more…it got a bit out of hand and is a lot longer than I anticipated, so I hope you don’t mind!) I thank you again, and attempt to combine my reply to two of your comments into one and somehow have it make sense even though the first comment will have questions that may have been answered by the chapter in between and I don’t know, help! To be continued indeed…in about five minutes when I upload the next chapter…I won’t spoil anything at all :P

While this story is generally just a tongue-in-cheek example of nonsense (well, sort of) I still can’t help but harken back to my most favourite of themes, i.e. the ‘weak’ king, here diluted slightly– we have Aragorn’s insistent internal monologue second-guessing himself, doubting, worrying away, wishing he hadn’t said this or that and altogether making a bit of an arse of being in love, but then again, why should kings be immune to that which can make us all a bit silly at times? And I’m sure, in an alternate universe where I have infinite time, patience and no distractions the version of the story written from Faramir’s perspective will have exactly the same volume of niggling little voices in the back of his mind stressing out about the perfect time and place to confess his feelings to Aragorn, or inwardly vocalising his anxiety over whether or not the king prefers redheads (and their chest hair) :P I don’t know, I really don’t think I’m very good at any of this writing lark whatsoever, it’s all just a bit of fun for myself but I at least hope that in my attempt to make the characters as ‘real’ as they are to me in my head (how do I explain? When I think of them all no-one is on a pedestal…I’m interested in the people themselves, the minutiae of their daily lives, their thoughts and dreams and fears…the realism of awkward, non-Hollywood sex, ha!) I’m creating something that is at least passable? As for physical averageness, I find it generally more attractive than looking at someone straight from the pages of Middle Earth Vogue or whatever :P Nobody’s perfect and that’s the best part [strokes beard] :)

— Eora    Sunday 3 February 2013, 22:35    #

Oh no no no! Do you not apologize for fan work not counting as a respectable occupation you get a kingly salary for! It´s an unfortunate fact that even the most dedicated writer suffers of constant distraction by real life´s demands. But no matter how massive the pressure, do always remember rule no. 243: “Thou shalt not let the feelings of guilt get between you and your creativity!” :)

But now. Eventually! :D They made it! With a little push from a benevolent author, that is. Rejoice, o Gondor!!! :D After endless squirming and suffering finally the first morning under the ostensibly NOT-seeing eyes of the servantry! What a great day for the realm! :D

Indeed, I have no doubt that given we would unscrew Faramir´s head and take a look inside, we would catch a sight of the same mental turmoil. A thicket of hope, fear, doubts and the omnipresent feeling of coming across terribly stupid, woven around a center of stainless virtue and glory: THE KING. The King who never does anything wrong. The king who never doubts or feel silly. The King… oh, well, he could take a bath now and then…

Speaking of it:
“I thought frequent baths were a thing you were doing now?”
I always had the vague feeling there was a certain gap yawning in the movie script but couldn´t figure it out until you came up with hhis sentence..! XDDD Yes, Mr. King, wasn´t that part of your daily duties? As in:
19:00 – Small private Dinner with close friends
20:00 – Discussing the preparations for the upcoming bards´ contest
21:00 – General relaxation by the fireplace with a cup of wine
22:00 – Daily BATH, including head massage and subsequent foot reflexology
22:30 – to bed with hottie and favourite pillow; bedtime story at 22:45, lights off at 23:00.

But again I digress when it´s actually my intention to praise your achievement! Which of course I fully blame you for. It´s oviously impossible for me to read through even the shortest piece of Eora literature without hatching a thousand ideas and a million thoughts. In earlier centuries your writing would have certainly drawn the attention of the Department for Witchcraft, Spells and other Supernatural Activities!

P.S.: It´s also impossible to not need at least one tissue. The intense atmosphere of universal affection and comfort you create makes the lack of it in RL way too palpable and you shalt not get away without a big, wet, sobbing hug. :)

P.P.S.: I still can´t believe there is a ´coronation´ fic under construction. Seriously. The universe must be mistaken here. Oh my… :)))

P.P.P.S.: One tiny subject that has nothing to do with your fabulous work (or, well, actually it does) but since I´d like to avoid spamming your mail box again with count- and mainly meaningless messages, I thought it better to drop it here:
Given that the fabulous tea has come to a quick and definite end and left nothing but its prettily printed box, I wonder whether it is recommendable to store English tea in a can saying “Scottish Breakfast tea”. Do you, as an expert, think this would cause any severe problems? I fear revolt, mayhem, and the ghosts of blue painted men roaring “FREEDOM!!!!” in my kitchen…

— raven22372    Thursday 7 February 2013, 20:39    #

“You’re a funny one.” – I can´t help figuring Glenn Owen Dodds saying this…

And since I´ve started this quotation thing:
“I can’t believe I just slept with the king,” – I might be overinterpreting once more but to me this tiny simple sentence grants us a quick glance on Faramir´s own insecurities. All the time he appears to act with sleepwalking self-confidence and sudenly he is like “Omg, I can´t believe this is happening!”

And for another unknown reason I find the image of two proper men trying to hide behind statue incredibly pleasing. Like in a cartoon when all you can see is a column/tree/statue with a belly and redundant feet and No no, there´s absolutely nobody back here. X) Of course my same warm affection goes to a slightly intoxicated Aragorn. I bet he has long found a method to look very grave and focussed, ´an image of the splendor of the kings of Men´, so to say, when in truth his only desire is to get into his steward´s pants asap. X)

Again you created such a rich atmosphere of love and understanding and humour – if it was me to leave the country and discover the great wide world, this was exactly what I would take with me to ease the pain of homesickness!

Somehow I had expected Faramir being the steersman in this encounter… but for Idontknowhich reason the fact that he is NOT adds a strangely delicate aspect… like, of course its´s Aragorn telling the story, but at the same time it´s also the first-person narrator and… okay, this might sound very silly, but the notion of having sexual intercourse with err, Faramir, and being, err, ON TOP is err…WOW. To the power of ten. With an echo. Err. I think I better get a cloth and care about that puddle of saliva before any innocent passer-by accidently slips and gets hurt…

Plus: I´m firmly convinced of ´epiphanous`being a word. And if not, I´ll be the first one who vote for it to make its way into the Oxford Dictionary!

Eight days left! :D Have no fear, Eora! The forces of good are with you and it will all turn out fine! :D

— raven22372    Sunday 17 February 2013, 8:36    #

I really enjoyed this piece. I liked the chemistry between the two and esp. Faramir’s optimism and playfulness. Very nice work.

— Nessa Lossëhelin    Friday 22 February 2013, 17:02    #

…Blonder now with age…
And I thought that was only my perception. Aah, the Austra… Ithilien sun! ;)

This, my dear. This is the most shameless and beautiful declaration of love an object of desire could ever wish for. :) If all these divine images became photographs, they would make the most exquisite picture book – if they became frescoes and murals, they would make a second Sistine Chapel. Your fics – and that means all of them – are monuments of love for their protagonists and it´s almost a pity the ´real´ people can´t read them (though, who knows?). I genuflect in awe! :)

And just when the beauty of the man scenery is about to make your heart break, you add that pinch of reality that grounds the story and makes the characters even more adorable. An ´ever after´ after ´and they lived happily…´You give us an enchanting (and though convincing) idea of a well-working relationship when the ´hot phase´ (is that a term at all?) is over. The excitement has ceased, the presence of the other one has become familiar. And though the tension has not been replaced by habit, the respect for each other is still there. I like this calm, serene tableau; it spreads so much faith. They´re now on a level when you don´t ned the other one around to know he´s there. Time has not worn out this relationship but made it solid.

I´m glad to learn that, in the turmoil of RL, you still find time to do what you love to do. :) And of course I agree to your suggestion regarding err, material issues, I was just worrying it might get you into trouble. I promise there will be a reply coming in soon – and I´m firmly determined to keep it short, so you can focus on other things (like, the sighting of unexpected redheads)! Keep an eye on your flip flops, dear, and mind your sun screen!

— raven22372    Tuesday 19 March 2013, 7:35    #

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