Faramir Fiction Archive

Trail of Tears (R)

Written by Kissa

21 June 2008 | 6893 words

Chapter 5

He found Thorongil sitting on a rock a bit further away from them, smoking his pipe in silence. The Ranger, although deep in thought and quiet, seemed in prey to great turmoil. Faramir dropped to one knee in front of him, close enough so the Ranger would feel his personal space invaded.

„I’ve been meaning to thank you, Thorongil. Your skill and wisdom have saved my brother’s life, and for that I am infinitely grateful.” Faramir began.

„He is everything to you, that is obvious.” Thorongil commented, removing the pipe from his mouth.

Faramir watched the Ranger’s face and found it rejuventated somehow. The lines on the man’s face had disappeared and he now looked – amazingly – just as young as Boromir. As his fascination with this man and his gratitude peaked, Faramir found himself almost in the man’s lap, kissing him desperately.

There was a second, perhaps the longest one in Faramir’s life, when everything could happen. He had never let himself be so vulnerable in his whole life; he had never given so much of himself – Thorongil could turn him down and crush him like an insect. He had no way of knowing if his offer would be met with the usual desire men felt for him, or with distant coldness. Thorongil had been unreadable in this respect, and he had seemed unfazed by the obvious, albeit questionable closeness between the brothers.

Yet Thorongil’s hands came to rest on his waist, pipeweed-flavored lips opening to allow Faramir access. Ah, victory. It was almost a disappointment, that even this one gave in so easily to temptation. But then, who could blame him? The temptation was designed to be irresistible.

Hands fumbled with laces, clasps and frogs and, unexplainably shy, Faramir gasped as he touched soft warm skin which was not Boromir’s, for the first time. It brought a strange sense of relief, to see the man pulse and heat up just like them, as if in the back of his mind Faramir had expected him to not be as human as he first appeared to be.

They made their way to where Boromir now waited, doing visibly better compared to the previous day. He had eagerly gone to the back of the cave, bathing in the warm stream, washing away the traces of grime and poisoned sweat. As soon as the Ranger and Faramir sat down next to him, Boromir smiled and reached for Thorongil’s wrist, urging him closer and wasting no time in snaking a leg in between the Ranger’s, effectively pinning him down, at the same time making sure the Ranger did not feel trapped.

He was older than the two of them, true, but they had no way of knowing what his limits were. True, he was a Ranger and many things were said about the relationships forged between Rangers in the wild, but this one did not fit the idea of a Ranger they had got from books and other accounts.

While Boromir loosened Thorongil’s clothing, Faramir kept him distracted by kissing him, no longer keeping the touches light and shy, but throughly enjoying making the Ranger gasp for air in between kisses.

„How…?” Thorongil got the time to ask in between kisses, not fully understanding what the young warriors wanted from him. He had never considered approaching a man that way, and he was not ready to accept he might be wanted by another male… but, and this was a major but, there was something about the two brothers. The same thing which had made him stray from his plans and stay with them, helping the older one just so he could pass the time studying the younger one.

Eramir had caught his eye from the very first moment. True, when he had laid eyes on him, Eramir had been in the throes of passion, writhing on top of his brother with his eyes closed, looking elf-like in the faint moonlight coming from outside. But even after that, it had been obvious that, both brothers being special, each in his own way and together as well, Eramir had a certain… glow to him. He was also disarmingly young for his role and position. Thorongil had seen the hilt of the boy’s sword, had seen the runes carved on his bow. He was a company leader, at such a young age. Either things in Gondor were more desperate than he had surmised, or the little one was a nobleman’s son. Or both, who knew?

Right now the brothers had complete control of his body. Never would he have guessed firm muscle and narrow hips would elicit such reactions from him, or that the sight of Eramir baring his body for his eyes to enjoy would spark such dark desires in him. It was as if… he felt strangely protective of the boy (who tried hard to pass as a man, but failed miserably because of his elven looks, hairless maidenlike skin and long, auburn curls), but at the same time he had the irrepresible urge to capture this moment and what it offered to him.

Aradhel’s hand had found its way inside Thorongil’s breeches, stroking him with practised moves. They both knew that part was hardly necessary, not with Eramir now standing naked before them.

Aradhel let him go for a few moments, taking his brother’s hand and helping him straddle his lap, making sure Thorongil could see his hands slide down the young one’s back, over the firm little butt.

Boromir looked up at his brother, seeing no trace of reserve or apprehension. Together, no one and nothing could break them. Reaching for the salve, he uncapped it and coated his fingers in it, taking his time in preparing the little one, making a show of it for Thorongil’s pleasure.When he looked over to their „guest”, Boromir saw the man was not touching himself , probably not knowing it was not just tolerated, but also expected of him to do so, but instead his eyes were riveted on what the two brothers were currently doing.

As Faramir bent forward, briefly kissing Boromir to let him know it was alright to proceed, the older brother nodded at the Ranger, who knelt behind Faramir, grasping a long silky auburn strand, moving it aside so he could kiss the white neck he thus uncovered.

To his shock, Thorongil felt a greased hand grabbing him, guiding him into the tightest, hottest… heaven he had been allowed into. His breath was stolen from him and all the blood rushed to one part of his body, making him dizzy and high. He still did not understand how he had come to be in that situation, but he for once decided not to overthink things, so he could enjoy them. Boromir’s hand was still on his manhood, thoughtfully gripping the base of it and squeezing hard, which was a most inspired move, because the older man would have come as soon as he had been accepted by the young beauty’s body.

Next, when he thought there was no more he could feel, he was proven wrong by the delicious pressure-panic of Aradhel’s shaft pushing in alongside his. Eramir gave a small mewl between them and went still, but only for a few short moments, rearing up against Throngil’s body and melting against him. The Ranger’s arms simply wrapped themselves around the lithe body, caressing where they reached, gender preferences long forgotten in the midst of such an intimate connection. It was an instinctive gesture of tenderness sprung from primeval instinct. Thorongil would have said something, anything, but he was too awe-stricken to do so. All things which came to his mind seemed to only serve in ruining the moment.

It was Boromir who began to move, sliding in deeper, then pulling almost all the way out, eliciting pleasure-filled sounds from both his brother and the Ranger. Soon, all three of them found a rhythm which suited them, wanting to draw out the experience for as long as possible.

Faramir felt his control wane first, from the overwhelming pressure and the sensations coursing through his body, but also from his unlikely lover’s hesitant, but loving and delicious touches. His head fell forward in abandon as orgasm wracked his body, Thorongil biting into his shoulder as he came as well.

The Ranger froze in the midst of his climax as his peripheral vision caught sight of something he had not hoped he would see again in his life.

A small sign at the back of Eramir’s head, right under the hairline… a sign he and his long-lost love had left on their newborn sons’ skin using magic dug up from scrolls of the First Age. She had wanted that, for both her sons, wanting to preserve her people’s tradition and to deny her unjust husband the claim over her children.

Denethor had become Steward of Gondor, and with the gain of this position, he had lost all trace of gentleness. Only Finduilas, his frail wife, knew he was unable to sire any offspring… and for that, he hated her. But he needed heirs, so he did the one thing a wise breeder does when the line is threatened: he brought in a male from another lineage… And once the deed was done, he had ordered Finduilas’ mate killed. The steward’s sick wife had called on a few favors from guards and elves and thus the man had been saved, but condemned to exile.

Now, as he beheld the lily-shaped pearly sign on Eramir’s skin, the Ranger realized he not only knew the truth, but it did not affect him in the least. He could only love the young man more. And he could bet there was an identical sign on Aradhel’s skin as well.

Coming down from his high, he pulled away, lacing his breeches up and letting the brothers cuddle. There was something bestial and simple about them together; they seemed perfectly content to be alone against the world. Probably they were just responding to having been thrown in a world of lies and deception, without even their mother to teach them how to protect themselves without shutting the rest of the world out. He could not begrudge them their unbrotherly bond – it was all they had. For now.

Much later, after Arda herself had gone through a whole cycle of change, Elessar looked at his Steward who stood before him… he had but one son left alive, and he hated himself for not having spoken sooner. Tonight the veil of secrecy fell and there would be no more borrowed names and aliases. Tonight the trail of tears ended for Faramir; an entire world had fallen around them, and Faramir could mourn it, as he did his brother, every waking moment. But tonight he would have his father’s arms around him to offer the much longed for comfort.

~end~

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