Faramir Fiction Archive

Trial and Judgment (NC-17)

Written by Mcguffan

04 April 2004 | 57094 words

“Very well, you have answered my questions. This night you will both dream. The dream will reveal something you desire. I have the power to make dreams reality. If you wish I will do so. That is the second test.” The lady did not simply disappear, she remained in place until I blinked naturally and in the less than a second that my eyes were closed she was gone. I did not know what to do so I simply stood where I was and stared at the ground. I still could not bring myself to look at Aragorn. I hated my own cowardice and weakness. I could neither behave properly nor stoically accept the consequences when I acted the fool.

Finally, in a quiet careful voice, he spoke. “Will you show me, Faramir?” I held my wrists up to him holding them close together like a prisoner expecting to be chained. I kept my eyes riveted on the floor. He took my hands in his and studied them. After a moment he began slowly tracing the scars with his fingers. A warm tingle seemed to follow the path his fingers took. “I wish I could have been there for you, dear heart.”

I was so surprised by his words that I automatically raised my head to look into his face. He was looking at me with profound sympathy. In his deep grey eyes I thought I saw understanding. “It wasn’t that father didn’t love me, I believe he did.” I had no idea where the words had come from. I rarely spoke of Denethor and I never spoke of how it had been between us, but having started I continued. “It was just that we were so alike and… and he never had much affection for himself. I think he blamed himself for whatever it was that was wrong with me.” When I finished I felt somehow better. It was all an unutterable relief. He still caressed my scars and I felt gentle heat flowing into my wrists then down to my hands and up my arms. I was enveloped in the calm acceptance of his gaze. For a moment I was at peace. But then the reality of who I was, who he was and what I was doing crashed in upon me. I carefully extricated my hands from his grip for I did not wish to feel the anguish when reality inevitably returned to him and he would push me away. Something too quick for me to identify flashed over his features as I freed myself. I took a pace backward uncertain of what to do next.

Aragorn appeared to come to a decision as he watched me draw away from him. “When our host asked about Arwen, it was very difficult. She was very skillful. Somehow it was easy for her to find and prey upon my fears and vulnerabilities. She was succeeding in opening deep wounds. But then, I tried imagining that the interrogator was not there at all, that it was simply the two of us talking together as friends would. It became easy after that. I found I could bring myself to speak of even the most painful things with you by me. I am glad you are here with me, Faramir.”

He seemed to be waiting for me to say something, but what could I say? Could I tell him that whenever he spoke of friendship between us I was so filled with joy and fear that my heart shook? Could I tell him that even the idea of him in pain made me sick with anger and terror? Could I tell him that if only I was permitted to be near him then I would ask for nothing more and consider myself the most fortunate of men? No, I could not and these were the least of the things I could not tell him.

When it was clear I had no response, Aragorn sighed deeply. He turned away from me and raised a hand to his face as though to rub away the fatigue that collected in the flesh between his eyes. “Well, if we are to stay here three days, we may as well do what we can to make ourselves comfortable.” This was said in a resigned, matter of fact tone. Another crisis had passed. Though I had said far too much I still kept my most precious secret. I hid this secret so deep within myself that except in circumstances of great emotion I could conceal it even from myself.

I looked around wondering how best to go about setting up ‘camp’ when I noticed a doorway. It had certainly not been there before. I drew Aragorn’s attention to it and together we cautiously made our way through the doorway and down a short corridor. The corridor was at an angle to the rooms on either end of it so it was impossible to get a clear view of what lay at the other of the passage. We arrived stealthily and with hands on sword hilts at a large and pleasant room. There were two beds at one end of the room neatly made up and surrounded by semitransparent draperies. A table closer to the center of the room was set with two bowls of mutton stew that were still steaming. There was also fresh fruit, a large loaf of bread and a round of cheese. In the far corner there was a screened area which upon closer inspection appeared to be for washing and dressing.

“Very nice,’ Aragorn said dryly, though I could tell he was quite impressed. There still didn’t seem to be any particular source of light though it was as bright as a summer afternoon. The place gave the impression of being open, even airy, though there were no windows and it was almost certain that we would never leave this place unless the lady permitted it. We could not possibly be in the black tower any longer. There was simply no way such commodious quarters could have escaped Gimli’s eye for spacial relationships.. I wondered where we were or even if the term ‘where’ still made sense.

My lord seated himself before one of the bowls of stew. He tore a piece of bread from the loaf, dipped it into the broth and carefully brought it to his lips. The thought of poison flew through my mind and I considered objecting but I discarded the idea. Poison was over subtle for the lady. Besides we were her current playthings, she would keep us safe and well cared for until we ceased to be interesting to her.

At the first bite my lord’s eyes lost focus and his head began tipping backward. I rushed to his side but he had already recovered. “Try this.” He commanded when I reached him. Obediently I took the food he pressed into my hand and ate a morsel. It was not that it was good, it was astonishingly so, but there was something else. The smell and taste reminded me of home. I don’t mean the house in Ithilien. I mean Home, that place that probably doesn’t really exist but everybody secretly believes in where its safe and warm and there is always someone to take care of you. I dropped into the chair by the second bowl and ate ravenously.

It was impossible to judge time in this sunless place but I imagined it was not more than half an hour later when Aragorn was scraping the bottom if his bowl with his spoon and I was using the last of the bread to collect any flakes of cheese that might have escaped me. “Many more meals like that and I shall become as placid as a hobbit.” Aragorn spoke in mild jest but I thought what a wonderful life it would be if so much pleasure could be taken from simple things: food, sleep, reading in a garden with the sun warming your back.

“If I dream of apple pie with cheddar cheese tonight then I will accept the lady’s offer and damn the consequences.” To my immense satisfaction Aragorn laughed as he rose from his chair to stretch his long limbs.

“I could hardly blame you for such a choice, but perhaps our host intends for us to accept. It is said among the elves of Lórien that ‘self-indulgence is not so tragic a flaw as self-denial.”

“I am not surprised that such things are said among the Lórien elves.” I spoke with much more bitterness than I intended. Aragorn who had returned to his seat and was leaning back contentedly sat up straight and raised an inquiring eyebrow at me. I searched for something to divert his curiosity. Happily the table had somehow been cleared. The lady’s magical displays were becoming a bit tacky in my opinion but I took advantage of the opportunity to change the subject.

“Do you suppose there is any chance we will discover the lady’s identity or her real motives and source of her power?” I asked a bit coyly.

“In truth, I doubt it unless we ever chance to find Lady Galadriel in a particularly communicative mood.” He replied. “I wonder, though. Faramir, if you ruled a large empire and one of the remoter provinces had just overthrown its local government what would you do?”

I loved these games. We played them often. He would ask questions, I would do my best to come up with answers that made sense and together we would come up with a theory or strategy to address any problem. “First, I would want to reestablish some sort of government as soon as possible. Anarchy makes a place vulnerable to foreign invaders but more than that I wouldn’t want the instability to spread.” It was difficult to see the whole of Middle Earth as no more than a backwater on the extreme edge of some vast empire, Sauron as no more than a petty bully and local despot and it was difficult to see the lady as the representative of a powerful and sophisticated civilization. Yet, it all followed a very compelling sort of logic.

“My lord,” I began nervously a very troubling idea slowly forming in my mind. “Do you think there is any possibility that the this lady that she is… that she could be-”

“I don’t think it serves any purpose to speculate about that.” Aragorn said before I could bring myself to fully express my idea. “Only ask yourself: Is there any name our host could assume that would change your opinion of what has happened here?” I thought about the coldness of the lady’s eyes, the casual way she probed our sorrows, the cavalier manner in which she proposed to judge us.

“No, it does not matter what she calls herself.” I finally answered. My conclusion frightened me for it had implications I was not sure I wanted to face.

“Then let us leave that question for the time at least.” Aragorn advised wisely. “Now, tell me, Faramir how selective would you be about what sort of replacement government would you establish if you were emperor. He questioned, unconsciously running his fingers up and down Andúril’s engraved hilt.

“Not much.” I concluded, warming to my new role as imperial overlord. “Except that I would want to make sure that I did not let a true fanatic come to power.”

“You mean you would want someone who could compromise, who would bow to political expediency.” He said with a twinkle in his eye. He was thinking about how he had decided not to pursue the question of the lady’s right to judge others when we first entered this place. He was mocking himself.

“Zealots may make dangerous enemies but they are even more dangerous friends.” I said severely. I saw nothing admirable in those who went out of their way to kill or die for a principle. My lord was wise, he knew that those who would not break must sometimes bend. I wasn’t going to let him get away with implying that he had made a cowardly decision.

“Very well, Master Faramir, I will concede the point.” My lord laughed, raising his hands in surrender. “Would you require any other basic qualification?”

“Yes, the leader of the new government would have to be reasonably competent. I would have to repeat the whole bother about finding an appropriate candidate if whoever I appoint gets himself killed or overthrown.”

“Just competent, why not seek out a genius?”

I thought for a moment. “Two reasons. First, finding a genius takes more time than I am probably willing to devote to the problem. Second, as a great emperor I am arrogant and a genius might threaten my inflated image of myself.”

Together we wiled away the afternoon deep in conversation. We discussed how important a candidate’s character or personal flaws might turn out to be. We talked about how much support a candidate would receive from the empire once he had been chosen. Occasionally, we would wander onto a tangent but we always found our way back. We did not know if we were explaining our situation or if we were simply debating political theory but whatever we were doing it kept us from feeling quite so helpless.

It occurred to me that I really had been feeling much better since this trip. I had had no more headaches. I admit the actual moments I did something foolish were unpleasant but I usually was much more at ease afterward. I knew my improvement had to do with spending so much time with Aragorn but I was a little concerned: what would happen if he tired of me? Exile from his presence would be so much more difficult now that I knew how it was to be constantly by him.

Before dinner appeared, my lord asked if I would spar with him. He felt he had been far too passive and wanted the exercise. I agreed readily. I supposed I could do with some exercise myself. Naturally enough I was soundly trounced. I simply could not bring myself to use even the most basic attacks against my king even for the purposes of practices. I was sorry not to be able to give him a challenge but it was as if my arms refused any orders to raise a weapon against him.

While we sat sweating and breathing hard Aragorn said, “When we return to Minas Tirith we shall have to play a few games of chess and I shall make this day’s victory complete.” At chess I could beat him two games in three. I smiled happily. In part, of course, he had been joking but if Aragorn suggested we play chess he was quite serious and he would not forget. He must not be bored with me quite yet if he was willing to not only endure my company but also to endure defeat on the game board.

Dinner arrived the same way lunch had and we attacked it with the same vigor. When we had finished the meal, the light began to grow dim. “Ah, sunset.” Aragorn said with mild derision. The lady may have been clever but she was hardly subtle. We took the hint and prepared for sleep. There had been hot water for washing and big fluffy towels. I wondered if even the elves could boast of such luxury. There was even soft loose fitting clothing laid out on the beds. I think my lord was very reluctant to accept the new clothing. He disliked the lady and he was wary of incurring any obligation to her by accepting her generosity. I felt no such compunction. In fact, I rather hoped the lady might get around to cleaning and mending our travel clothes sometime in the night.

Though I was well-fed, clean and comfortable I did not wish to sleep. In truth, I was afraid of what I might dream. If we had been outside I might have taken a walk or looked at the stars but here in this room no such delay tactics were available. Just then Aragorn emerged from behind the screen. He had, it seemed, decided to take advantage of the new clothing. The trousers fit his lean frame well. His dark hair was still damp from washing. I tried not to look at his uncovered torso but I really had no choice but to see the tight muscles of his chest and abdomen as well as the sharp curves in his shoulders and arms.

Aragorn padded across the room on bare feet. I sat on one of the beds idly twisting my fingers. When he reached me Aragorn gently patted my shoulder and murmured ‘good night.’ He went on to the other bed and flung away the gauzy curtain with an almost irritated twitch of his hand. In a moment he was wrapped in the blankets, lying on his back with his eyes closed. With a resigned sigh I slipped into my own bed. I lay on my side with my face turned away from Aragorn. I knew it wouldn’t do me any good to lie there staring at him waiting to dream. I sighed again and began to fight a losing battle with sleep.

My eyes flew open. The room was still dark. As quietly as I could I turned so I was facing the direction in which Aragorn lay. I could make out the outline of his figure. I even imagined I saw his chest rise and fall as he breathed. I watched him intently for several minutes. I wanted to make sure he was sleeping soundly. When I had satisfied myself that he was indeed lost in slumber I silently rose from my bed. I held my breath as I crept across the room to the corridor. When I reached it I began to move more quickly. I arrived in the room where we had first entered the lady’s prison. The lady was there waiting. She stood in the center of the round room, a faint smile on her lips.

“Yes,” I said a little breathlessly. “Yes, I want it to be real. Grant me my desire.”

“So be it.” Replied the lady. She was every inch the gracious queen dispensing favors. Only the trace of smugness around her eyes belied the regal image. I was dizzy with eagerness and expectation. When the lady vanished I made my way back down the corridor, my heart beating thunderously. The room where moments ago I had left my sleeping lord was brighter than when I had departed. All was illuminated in the uncanny light of a sunless dawn.

Aragorn was stirring. Still faintly disoriented he had flung his legs over the side of the bed preparing to rise. When he saw me standing at the entrance to the corridor his expression brightened. “Good morning, Faramir. You have wakened early.”

I saw him there so wise and yet so trusting. The innocence of sleep still hung close about him. He was so vulnerable and so beautiful sitting there without sword or crown or even boots or a shirt. All at once it was as if I had come out of a trance. I was overcome with a sudden surge of terrible guilt. I had been mad, possessed. What had I done, dealing with that creature? With a sob I ran to him and threw myself at his feet.

He took hold of my arms and stood up bringing me with him. “What is wrong, dear heart? What has happened?” He said searching my face for answers.

“I went to the lady. I… I agreed. I told her to fulfill my desire. I’m sorry, so sorry” I said brokenly, wondering again how I could have done it.

“Oh, Faramir, angel mine, I’m not angry. How could you possibly think I would be angry? It was your decision to make. Gods know that if anyone deserves to have a wish granted it is you. I am so glad you have finally accepted something for yourself.” He spoke desperate to convince me. He was still supporting much of my weight. If he had released his hold on my arms I would have fallen to the ground.

“You don’t understand, my… my dear lord.” So steadfast himself how could he comprehend the depth of my perfidy? How could I explain how badly I had betrayed him. I was sick with shame and guilt. “You don’t know what it was I asked for, what I wanted. She gave me… She said she would make it possible for me to… I coveted… Oh gods, why did I do it?”

“Faramir, Faramir! Listen to me!” He was shaking my shoulders, gently at first, but with increasing force until he saw that my panic was beginning to recede. “That doesn’t matter, none of it. It’s not important, do you hear me? It’s not important.” Then with the greatest care he leaned forward and ever so lightly brushed his lips against mine. I stood as though I had been turned to stone. Again he touched his lips to mine, exerting just a little more pressure.

He was leaning forward to kiss me a third time when I broke free from my daze. I threw my arms around him and locked my fingers tightly. I had embraced him with so much unexpected force that he took several steps backward before running into the wall next to the head of the bed. I pushed my body against him, trying insistently to get still closer to him, to put my body into as much contact with his as possible. Now he did kiss me again, but this time he kissed me with a passionate hunger. His tongue thrust into my mouth and I moaned a heartfelt welcome. As we continued to kiss Aragorn’s hands gently caressed my face, carded through my hair and stroked up and down my back. My blood was singing through my veins. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to see him with my hands but I wasn’t going to release the grip I had around him. I wasn’t going to let him go.

“You are beautiful, Faramir.” Aragorn said as he delivered a tender kiss to my temple. I shook my head ‘no’ and buried my face in his shoulder. “If only you could see what I see.” He said hugging me tightly. After many more kisses I slowly started to realize that Aragorn was not going to disappear. With great caution I slowly began to release the hold I had on him. My fingers ached from being so tightly fastened together for so long. Gently I moved my hands letting my hurting fingers travel over the strong muscles in Aragorn’s back. He responded to the clumsy motion of my hands with a sound of satisfaction that started deep in his throat. I nuzzled against his neck and he obligingly raised his head allowing me to cover his throat with my lips and tongue.

I grew increasingly confident. Each time he kissed me I felt infused with strength. He touched me as though I were somehow precious. I was overwhelmed with joy. I was made bold with my desire for him and with great audacity I brushed my fingers over his growing hardness. I heard him take in a sharp breath at the contact. The sound echoed in my own throat as my senses reeled with the nearness of him. With sudden passion Aragorn pulled my head to him and kissed me fiercely. I took this as encouragement. I rubbed my hand down the length of him with greater firmness. Only a thin layer of cloth separated me from the pulsing steel of his erection.

I looked up at him, needing to make sure that what I wanted to do would be permitted. His grey eyes were clouded with desire. Was it desire for me or was he simply experiencing an impersonal physical need? Perhaps he was imagining Arwen in my place? I loved the lady Arwen, truly I did, but I would have gladly surrendered my mortal’s soul to any power good or evil for a mere fraction of what she had traded her immortality for. Oh, if he would only love me, just a little, for just a moment.

Part of me didn’t care what his motive was in accepting me, I would try to be whatever he needed so long as I could be with him. Though with my whole heart I desperately wanted to be special to him. “Faramir, sweetheart, its all right. You don’t have to do anything, its all right.” Aragorn’s voice was thick with a need he was trying hard to subdue. He kissed my forehead in a manner that was almost chaste as he struggled to slow his breathing. He had misread the mix of fear and hope in my eyes as hesitation or reluctance.

I almost smiled, I did indeed have to do something. If I let this chance go by I would never forgive myself. I moved my hand with renewed vigor. A groan escaped my lord’s lips as I stroked up and down. I pressed my lips to the hollow of his throat and began kissing a line downward as I slowly sank to my knees. With reverent fingers I worked his shaft free of its confinement. For a moment I simply stared, admiring him. I wasn’t sure what exactly I was supposed to do. I had never really been in this situation before. What if I did something wrong? With an effort I forced down my doubts and reached out to touch him. I was faintly surprised by the heat of his rigid flesh. The feel of him had triggered an almost painful response in my own groin. With mounting excitement I kissed the tip of his shaft. Aragorn’s hand had been smoothing my hair but at the touch of my lips he clutched my shoulders just barely resisting the urge to pull me closer. Eagerly I opened my mouth. I swirled my tongue around the head tasting him.

Aragorn made small sounds of encouragement and pleasure. I continued to explore him. I was still learning how best to give him pleasure for I wanted to prolong this as long as possible. Gradually, I took more of him into me, all the while using my tongue to caress the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft. I did not let my hands lie idle, trying to gauge the proper amount of firmness I kneaded his balls. I wanted to take all of him into me but I couldn’t manage it. I used my other hand to stroke up near the root. Each move of my hand, each lick of my tongue, each kiss of my lips was an act of worship. Finally, I came to a sort of synchronized rhythm, my hands and mouth working in concert. I could feel the pressure building within him. Aragorn cried out sharply and my mouth was filled with his hot seed. I drank deeply, tasting the results of his pleasure. When the tremors had finally ceased to shake Aragorn I carefully tucked his softening flesh back into the folds of his trousers and rested my head contentedly against his stomach.

Aragorn took a moment longer to recover then reached down to lift me to my feet. I tried to ignore the tightness of my own erection as I basked in the satisfaction I saw in my lord’s eyes. “Thank you,” I said letting my fingers run through his thick dark hair.

He laughed and then kissed me deeply. “It is I who thank you, dearest Faramir, but perhaps I may find some way to earn your gratitude before too long.” His voice was deep and rich with amusement. As he spoke he moved his hand to close firmly around my aching member. I gasped and Aragorn carefully maneuvered us around so that I could brace myself against the wall. Still smiling he rubbed his thumbs over my chest teasing my nipples into an intense sensitivity. Then he continued the process with his tongue. In moments I was moaning and twitching as my body tried to deal with all of the new sensations. Pleased with what he was accomplishing Aragorn started to move lower. I made a little noise of protest as he tried to come to his knees before me. In great distress I pulled him to his feet.

“What is the matter, lovely one? Am I being too rough?” He asked soothingly.

I shook my head ‘no’. My face was hot with the embarrassment of what had almost happened. “You should not… You should not kneel to me, not even in jest, not even for this.” I said earnestly.

Mirth, again, rose up within him but he suppressed it lest I think that he was laughing at me. “Well then, it will be for you to say. Would it be acceptable for you to lie down on the bed, my heart?” He asked.

I hesitated. Unbidden, a deeply buried fantasy had leapt to my mind. After I had met my lord Aragorn I sometimes had… desires. Desires I had no right to have. I thought about this fantasy in my darkest most shame filled moments. My already swollen shaft pulsed painfully with the forbidden thoughts. I tried to ignore the intense craving and refocus my attention on the wonder at hand. I was on the threshold of incredible bliss, nothing else should matter. With a great effort I thrust the fantasy away. Aragorn, however, always seemed able to read my mind when I had the most to hide. “Tell me what you want, Faramir. What would give you the most pleasure?” he whispered seductively in my ear, his warm breath stirring a few strands of hair at my temple. I was tempted, desperately tempted, but I dared not risk it.

I swallowed hard. “My lord, I only want-” Aragorn cut me off with a wounded look in his eyes and a shake of his head.

“Even now you will not call me by my name.” Aragorn spoke sadly. “Why do you mistrust me so? I have only ever wanted your happiness.” He kept his arms comfortingly around me but he was hurt. My insides twisted with grief at the look in his eyes. I trusted him completely. It was I, myself who could not be trusted. I disappointed everyone who had the misfortune to put faith in me. I was depraved and sick in my inmost self. My face burned with shame and the knowledge of my own corruption. I was bad.

Trembling I rose to my tiptoes. Though I had hurt him Aragorn still held me close to him. With my lips a hair’s breadth from his ear I whispered softly: “Punish me.”

I did not so much as breathe as I awaited his reaction. I thought for a moment that he had not heard me for he did not shove me away in disgust, instead he pressed me to him with crushing force. He took my face in his hands and gazed into my eyes. I don’t know what he saw in them but from him I saw compassion in the grey depths mixed with hope and a newly born curiosity. There was something else too; something I couldn’t quite name.

He studied my face for a long time. I gazed back at him too worn-out to hide anymore. Finally, he kissed me, a long sweet kiss. His hands moved down to my trousers and began undoing the laces. I caught my breath as he touched my bare hips, working me free of the clothing. In a moment the trousers were pooled around my ankles and at his urging I stepped out of them. I stood before him completely naked. Aragorn grasped my arm and sat down on the bed, pulling me with him so that I ended up with my face against the bed sheets and my body across his thighs. One arm circled my waist and adjusted me over his lap then held me firmly in place. I let myself lie there submissive to his touch but there was a knot in my stomach, a tension in my muscles and the blood beat through my straining shaft like a drum.

He just held me there for a time letting the anticipation build. Then, without warning, he brought his hand down hard against my upturned buttocks. I moaned and my eyes rolled up into the back of my head. The second blow followed the first in a rapturous explosion of pain and pleasure. I quickly lost count of the number of stinging smacks. Aragorn was strong and he did not hold back. Soon I was wantonly thrusting my hips upward eager for the next assault. Between blows I ground my shaft desperately against his legs.

Again and again Aragorn brought his hand down upon my now reddened flesh. To my surprise and delight I felt Aragorn’s renewed excitement press against my side. With an ecstatic moan I wriggled against him trying to further stimulate him. Against my stomach I felt his thigh muscles tighten but he did not pause in his work, delivering heavy handed strokes one after the other. By now every inch of my backside had been spanked many times. The pain was growing increasingly intense. My arms were free and I clung desperately to the bed sheets. I might have been crying. I don’t know why being bent over Aragorn’s knee and thoroughly punished sent me into an ecstatic frenzy but it did.

A series of five powerful slaps landing in the exact same spot knocked me over the edge and I came hard. With a shuddering cry I spilled myself onto the bed sheets and against Aragorn’s leg. Perhaps I lost consciousness for a moment. I was vaguely aware of slipping off of Aragorn’s lap into a boneless heap on the floor. The next thing that really registered was that Aragorn was now on the floor beside me, holding me as I shook with reaction. He was whispering something too quiet for me to really understand as he caressed my back and kissed my hair.

I wasn’t used to such powerful emotions or experiences and I was a long time recovering. When I had finally come back to myself Aragorn and I rose from the floor. “Are you all right, Faramir?” Aragorn asked a little shyly. For answer I threw my arms around his neck and kissed his face. He kissed me back before disengaging. “Lie down, dear one, I want to see if I can find anything to make you feel better.” As he spoke he brushed my sore backside with his fingertips to demonstrate what he meant. I hissed a little at the delightful and hitherto forbidden sensation. Even though it hurt, it still felt so good to have him touch me there.

“I want to go with you.” I said determinedly. Though, the little screened off portion of the room was only a few feet away Aragorn made no objection. I put my arm around his waist and together we walked to the little shelf of perfumes, soaps and lotions that had been provided. Aragorn sniffed at the different jars and bottles, occasionally testing the consistency of whatever substance lay within. I spent the time nipping at his earlobes and kissing his neck. I felt so completely relaxed, so completely happy. For the time being at least, all my guilt was gone.

When Aragorn found something he deemed appropriate we returned to the bed. I lay face down and Aragorn quickly rid himself of his trousers and lay beside me. Carefully he rubbed the cream into my sore flesh. The lotion felt cool against my burning skin and I sighed blissfully. When he had finished his healing ministrations he lay on his back and I moved to partly cover him with my body.

“Faramir, I need to tell you how very important you are too me.” He said as we lay together. I started to smile but something odd was happening. With each word Aragorn’s voice grew quieter until I could hardly hear him. “You are wonderful, sweetheart, I…” His lips were still moving but I could no longer hear. I sat up in a panic. I knew he was saying something terribly important but he was making no sound. I tried to take a hold of his shoulders but somehow he slipped from my fingers.

“My lord, don’t go.” I pleaded as I snatched empty air that had moments ago been solid flesh. “Don’t go! My lord, stay. Aragorn, Aragorn, please! Please, don’t leave me. Aragorn, I love you! I love you, Aragorn! Please!” It was no use, he was gone. He had simply faded away. One moment he had been there and the next I sat alone making a low keening sound. Then, abruptly, I was lying on my side in a bed. My eyes flew open. ‘It couldn’t have been a dream. It couldn’t have been.’ The room was still dark. ‘It was all so real.’ As quietly as I could I turned so I was facing the direction in which Aragorn lay. ‘How could I simply have dreamed it. It just wasn’t possible.’ I could make out the outline of his figure. ‘Why couldn’t it have been real? Why?’ I even imagined I saw his chest rise and fall as he breathed. ‘It wasn’t fair. It should have been real. I needed it to be real.’ I watched him intently for several minutes. I wanted to make sure he was sleeping soundly. ‘Perhaps I could make it real.’ When I had satisfied myself that he was indeed lost in slumber I silently rose from bed and looked with yearning down the corridor to where the lady waited to make my dream come true.

I stood there a long time at war with myself. If I closed my eyes I could still feel the touch of his hands and the warmth of his breath as he spoke gentle endearments. Surely to have that would be worth any price. Yet, yet it would not be of his own will that he touched me. It would be the lady’s compulsion. I wanted his love more than I desired his touch and the lady could not force him to love me. Even if she could would that really be love? There was a name for those who tried to take love that was not freely offered to them and whatever else I was, I was not that. Then, too, there had been the ending of my dream. I had been almost certain he was going to say he… he cared about me and yet he vanished before speaking. Had his sudden disappearance just at that moment been a warning or a promise of things that could be mine if I accepted the lady’s offer? If only I could be sure. With a final desperate glance at the corridor I turned away.

My dream had been very vivid and I had woken up in a sticky mess. Ordinarily I would have felt an adolescent embarrassment at this fact but now I was far too depressed to care. My lord still slept peacefully so I made up the bed to conceal the evidence. Then I went to the bathing area to clean myself off as best I could. My clothes from yesterday had been cleaned and mended by the lady’s magic. I put them on and then washed the clothing I had worn to bed. I had nearly finished when I heard a heart wrenching groan from the larger part of the room.

I dropped what I was doing and ran at full speed to where Aragorn lay. I found him sitting up in bed looking very pale. When he saw me he gave me a weak smile. “Are you all right?” I questioned, trying to sound calm. He nodded after a moment’s thought. “Bad dream?” I asked trying to keep the despair and bitter irony out of my voice.

He rubbed his hands over his face before answering. “Not bad, no. But it ended a bit… abruptly.” He said giving me another weak smile. He was still very pale and I wanted to hover making sure he was all right. He probably wanted privacy, though, so I went to clear my things from the washroom so he could bathe.

When he emerged I was sitting on my bed staring at nothing. “There is food on the table if you are hungry, my lord.” I said thinking it best that he eat something. He looked better than he had upon waking but he was still pale and he seemed somehow subdued. My impertinent curiosity asserted itself again. What had he dreamed? What could a man such as he possibly desire? Perhaps he dreamed about finding a way to give Lady Arwen her immortality back. Perhaps he dreamed of a healthy son fit to rule after him. My thoughts drifted along these lines for a while before it occurred to me that he might ask me what I had dreamed. I could not lie to him but how could I tell him the truth?

These were my thoughts as I sat listlessly pushing my breakfast around on my plate. I noticed Aragorn was not eating any more than I was. I wanted him to have something but I was afraid that if I nagged he would bring up my own lack of appetite. The food still had the aura of Home but now it ceased to fill me. It only reminded me of my emptiness. If I had to eat more I would be sick so I held my peace as Aragorn left his meal virtually untouched.

When it became obvious that neither one of us was going to eat another bite of the now mangled food on our plates Aragorn cleared his throat. “Are you ready to see our host again, Faramir?”

I had hoped to postpone this moment as long as possible but there was no way out of it. I nodded. “What would you like me to tell her?” I asked. I dreaded what he would say next for he could only really decide what answer to give her if he knew what she had offered me and then I would have to tell him. Maybe I could keep it general. Maybe I could get through this without naming names or acts. I doubted it though. Aragorn would want to know who I lusted after so that he could protect Éowyn and then it would all come out.

“Tell her whatever you have decided.” He answered a bit puzzled. Then as he understood he continued: “Its completely your decision, Faramir. I trust your judgment. I know you will make the right choice but don’t forget to consider your own happiness, dear one.” He paused then as though an idea had just occurred to him. “Of course if you wanted to tell me a little about… anything I would be happy to listen to-”

“No! Um, no, thank you, my lord. I have already made up my mind. Thank you, though.” I really was a fool. I had nearly tripped over my own tongue to reject his kindness. If it had been anything else I would have told him but what were the chances he would ever be kind to me again if he knew the truth.

“Very well then. If you have decided we may as well tell her now.” He said stoically.

Once again we were granted audience with the lady. Her manner and stance were exactly as they had been in my dream and I shivered a little. It was not evil exactly that I sensed from her. She did not wish us harm particularly. She did not care enough about us as people to take any interest in our well-being or our suffering. We were tools. We had no identity beyond our usefulness to her purpose. Whether that purpose meant good or ill for us or for middle earth was simply not something she needed to consider. It pained me to admit but sometimes
I felt something similar from Gandalf; not often and to a much lesser extent but the wizard seemed to have few qualms about manipulating people in the service of his plans.

“What say you, Aragorn? Will you claim what was offered in the dream-vision?” She asked, sounding imperious.

“No.” “No?”

“No.” There was no triumph or defiance in my lord’s voice, though the lady was obviously incredulous that he would refuse. He simply sounded weary.

“Take care, Man. I have seen into your heart. If you deny that you desire what I have shown you then I will know you lie.” She spoke angrily as though pushed beyond her endurance by the stupidity of a servant. My palm itched to slap her face.

“I do not deny that I desire what you have shown me, but my wish granted by you would be worthless. Less than worthless because if ever I am to have what I desire it will not be through conjuration or magical trickery.” Aragorn still sounded subdued and unhappy. He was not trying to insult the lady or provoke her. He was telling her the simple truth though he seemed too tired to bother putting the truth into his usual courteous phrases.

The lady’s eyes seemed to glow with rage for a moment but then her frosty composure reasserted itself. Without another word she turned from Aragorn towards me. “What of you, Faramir? The fulfillment of your greatest desire lies withing your grasp. I know how much you want it. Have you not suffered enough? Do you not deserve happiness? Take what I offer and find joy.”

“No.” This answer cost me dearly but as I spoke I realized I had done the right thing. I did not deserve the thing I wished for. If I was ever to find happiness it must be in learning to accept my limitations.

“Will you follow your master’s lead to your own continued misery, little one?” The lady said sweetly, feigning sympathy and compassion.

I nearly laughed. If the lady thought to change my mind by implying I was being too subservient to Aragorn by refusing her then she was a fool. I was more than willing to be guided by my lord in every aspect of my life, though he rarely interfered and he had never commanded me in a matter concerning personal choices. In this instance Aragorn had specifically told me it was my decision. The lady read our hearts and minds I doubted that she would be above listening to our conversations. I was just about to tell the lady that I would always consider it an honor and a privilege to follow my lord wherever he led when some intuition made me turn to look at Aragorn.

His face was contorted in grief and guilt. He seemed desperate to speak but he must have been gagged by the lady’s power. When he realized I was looking at him his eyes became pleading. What was wrong? What had upset him? Then I knew. I was not the lady’s target. She did not care if I changed my mind. She wanted Aragorn to believe I was denying myself something that would truly make me happy because he had somehow bullied me. It was ludicrous for my lord to worry about such a thing but it was his nature to assume responsibility for all bad consequences whether they were his fault or no. The lady was more devious then I had supposed her to be.

I had to choose my words very carefully. I had to let Aragorn know that I wasn’t mindlessly telling the lady what I thought he wanted me to say. Returning my gaze to the lady I told her boldly. “The fulfillment of my desire is not yours to give nor is it mine to accept. How could I be happy knowing that the only reason I possessed my greatest desire was because it had been stolen for me? I am no thief nor do I consort with thieves.” I tried to sound as though I was standing firmly on principal, as though I had never been tempted. My anger at the lady added strength to my voice and it relieved some small part of the great aching in my chest.

When I had spoken I glanced quickly at Aragorn. He still looked dispirited but my answer must have allayed the worst of his fears. He tried to give me an encouraging smile but it never touched his eyes. His melancholy was starting to distress me. What could he have dreamed to depress him so?

The lady did not appear particularly impressed by my defiance. She regarded us both with condescending equanimity. “If that is your last word then we will proceed to your final test.” Aragorn and I both affirmed that we stood by our refusals.

“I will now give you each a gift. You may decline the gift but not before tomorrow morning. These gifts will provide great advantages to you but of course the choice to accept or refuse is yours.” ‘Gifts’ I thought like Sauron’s ring, like Galadriel’s mirror. My pulse quickened. Would a day and a night be enough to make whatever token of power she offered irresistible?

“I have devoted a great deal of time to selecting the appropriate gifts. I hope you are not ungrateful.” The lady said drily.

Suddenly, she was holding something in her hands. It looked to be a knife. In the other hand she held the sheath attached to a slim belt. “Faramir, this is for you.” I was shocked to hear my name called first. In all our earlier encounters Aragorn had been addressed before me. This breach of protocol struck me as suspicious.

The lady placed the knife in its sheath and stepped towards me. For an awful moment I thought she was going to fasten the belt around me herself. I did not want her that close to me. I didn’t want to be within smelling distance of that perfect, beautiful creature who played with men’s futures as a child played with her toys. Fortunately, she simply held the weapon, scabbard and belt out to me. I took them from her as though I was taking a poisonous snake.

Even upon close inspection everything appeared normal. The knife was well made and carried a very sharp edge but not supernaturally so. There were no jewels, writings or designs. The belt and scabbard were of soft leather. I had been close to the one ring when by chance I had come across the hobbit Frodo. I had felt something sinister and seductive from the ring but I felt nothing like that when I held the knife.

“Put it on.” The lady commanded once I had examined the knife. I hesitated. “Put it on.” The lady did not shout or seem to change her voice in any way but the command seemed to bypass my brain and work directly on my muscles. I was fastening the belt around me by the time my mind caught up to my body. “The power is in the sheath, Faramir, not the blade. The blade is purely decorative.” Even as she spoke I began to feel a sense of warmth and safety flowing into me. It was as though a great river or ocean of feelings was flooding into me. Other feelings were contained in the flow: pride, affection, tenderness, concern and still others that I did not stop to identify. One great feeling, however, underlay, contained and surpassed all the others. It was an emotion I had seen before but I still could not name.

I fled from these feelings. I clawed at the belt trying to remove the thing from my waist but I could not so much as loosen it. I feared I would drown. I took a deep breath trying to ward off panic. Though, I knew the emotions did not originate in me they felt somehow familiar. Then without warning or conscious effort on my part the tidal wave of feelings ceased to rush through me in torrents. It was as though they had been dammed up. I could still sense them but they no longer threatened to overwhelm me. All the emotions were safely banked so that I could think about them without having to feel them.

Cautiously I began to experiment. I could will myself closer to the swirling ocean of feelings but to do that I had to start letting myself get caught up in the emotions themselves as though I were wading or swimming. Likewise I could move away from the feelings until they diminished into vague perceptions, like the distant roar of the surf. As I moved closer to the emotions the strange sense of familiarity increased. There was something important that I was not seeing, something that should have been obvious and instantaneously recognizable. As I continued to study I noticed that the emotions were subtly changing. The general mix remained the same but as I stared inward I saw that concern was growing ever more urgent. It was beginning to border on anxiety. Affection too was transforming itself into an acute desire to protect.

It was all fascinating but as I continued to observe the increasing tide of anxiety was beginning to insinuate itself into my own feelings. I was starting to get very worried. I pushed the new emotions far away from me until I was only just aware of their existence. Then I returned my focus outward onto the external world again. “What does it do?” I asked the lady in wonder as I ran my hand over the soft leather that had somehow given me access to all these strange emotions. It was odd but as soon as I had asked the lady the question I became dimly aware that the anxiety level in the now distant ocean of feelings had dropped.

“Can you not guess, Faramir?” The lady asked torn between amusement and disgust.

“No.” I answered truthfully. Was the sheath a mirror of my own emotions? Was that why they appeared both familiar and foreign? When I felt self-disgust did the pool reflect back to me great affection? When I felt despair would I find hope splashing against the borders of my mind? That was the best theory I could come up with but what possible purpose might be served thus.

“You may now understand, even experience, how others feel about you.” The lady explained tantalizingly. “Think of it, Faramir. With my gift at your side no one will ever be able to lie to you again. You will always have the advantage. If you wish to deceive others you will know exactly which tactic will be most successful. You will know if you are believed. No diplomat will be able to out maneuver you; no general will be able to bluff you and no lover will ever be able cheat you. Think of it.” After her first sentence I heard her words without fully registering them.

“But whose emotions am I feeling now?” I asked completely befuddled. “Where is the… the fondness coming from?” It surely wasn’t coming from the lady. I was nearly certain she disliked me. Besides, why would she give me something that would make her own emotions accessible to me? It just didn’t make sense.

The lady’s lip curled in contempt. I did not need any magic to be convinced that her opinion of my intelligence had just dropped precipitously. But from the ocean of feeling I felt amusement grow and surge. I caught my breath, recognition finally hitting me. Eyes wide I turned towards Aragorn. He was smiling as he often did when I did something silly that he was choosing to interpret as endearing. When he caught my eye I was nearly swept away by the onslaught of affection and… and that feeling I could not name.

Perhaps I had been slow witted but it simply exceeded the bounds of my imagination. It seemed more plausible that I would be able to know the lady’s feelings than Aragorn’s. I still couldn’t quite believe that it was true. Did he really feel such wonderful things for me? I was smiling now too. I must have looked positively simple-minded but I could not stop beaming. I was caressing the scabbard at my hip and drawing that ocean of feeling in around me, letting it wash over me.

“With practice, Faramir, you will learn how to detect subtle changes in feelings. You will be able to decipher complex and ambivalent emotions. You will be able to have insight into what a person feels about other matters if they relate to you.” The lady promised. I nodded that I understood but my mind was focused on Aragorn.

I hardly noticed as the lady turned away from me. When she addressed my lord, however, I felt Aragorn’s emotions contract suddenly. The emotions hadn’t changed I realized as I unconsciously clutched the lady’s gift. Perhaps it was only that his attention had been diverted to the lady. I had to force myself to concentrate on what was happening. I was useless enough without letting my wits go wandering. With the greatest reluctance I loosened the grip I had upon the scabbard, though I still kept my hand upon the soft leather. Part of me wished that the lady would just shut up and go away. I wanted Aragorn’s attention back on me.

“What I offer you, Aragorn, entails the greatest gift of knowledge. Faramir has been given the knowledge of people’s feelings so long as they concern him. I offer you their thoughts.” The lady’s voice seemed to boom with power and foreshadowing. Suddenly, I had no problem at all keeping my mind on what was going on.

“No, I reject that power and that knowledge.” Aragorn answered immediately and I thought his voice contained the same power and potential as the lady’s.

“Tomorrow is the time for choosing, Aragorn. Today you will listen. The power I offer you is great indeed and if you reject it I will not let you profit by what you gain in the meantime. If you tell me ‘no’ tomorrow then I shall take your memory of all you have learned. From this moment until the moment you refuse me you will remember nothing.” The lady announced, smiling.

“Why do you do this?” Aragorn asked. Anger, barley suppressed, seeped into his voice.

“That question can have no meaning for you or your kind. Perhaps my action is absolutely necessary to achieve a perfect harmony where all sentient creatures will be free and happy. Perhaps I delight in watching those who account themselves strong broken by too much power and too much knowledge. Perhaps I just want to see what you will do. Even should you live for a thousand thousand years, mortal man, you will never ever know ‘why’. ‘Why’ is a foolish question.”

Upon speaking her final word the lady raised her hand. A white star glowed in her palm. As I watched the star grew bigger and brighter until it filled my vision in a great burst of dazzling light. For several moments I was blind. As my sight gradually returned I looked around frantically for my lord. As the size of the star had grown I felt his concern for me grow also but his attention was mostly elsewhere. He was standing where he had been but now the lady’s pale star shone from the center of his forehead. The mark could have been mistaken for a scar and it did not detract from the beauty of his austere features in the least. As I continued to stare I saw that the mark was no longer purely white but more of light bluish gray like the sky before a thunderstorm. It matched his eyes.

At the same moment Aragorn turned to me and I felt a great sadness permeate all of his feelings for me. I shivered. I had always believed in my secret heart of hearts that Argorn was omniscient that he knew everything I thought about him and now it was so.

“I would not have you believe that I had cheated you Aragorn. A day and a night is, after all, such a little time to experiment with such a great power. So I shall tell you what you would have learned of Faramir’s thoughts had you been possessed of my gift.” Never had I heard such grim satisfaction from a feeling creature.

“No, nothing justifies this. Leave him alone.” Aragorn’s anger was no longer suppressed. He did not usually give way to rage but now there was lightning in his eyes.

The lady ignored him. He opened his mouth to speak again but the lady was no longer permitting speech. I trembled as my mind shrank from contemplating the horror to come. With every ounce of courage I possessed I turned toward Aragorn and thought: ‘I’m sorry.’ Then the lady began to speak.

In the time I had known Aragorn I had had innumerable thoughts about him. Most of these thoughts were perfectly proper. I loved him as my king. I admired him as a leader. There had been times when we had been together that I dared to think of as companionable even brotherly. Though I tried to be polite to everyone there were few I counted as true friends but I had counted Aragorn as one such despite the fact that he was my lord. The lady did not speak of any of these thoughts or the thoughts associated with them.

She told him that I had thought him beautiful ever since the moment in the house of healing when I had opened my eyes and seen not only my king but my destiny. She told him of the hours I had spent wondering what it would be like to touch him and to be touched by him. She told him how my thoughts ran like searching fingers over the times I had seen him sparring with the guard: shirtless, soaked with sweat and breathing hard. I wanted to cry out: ‘Stop, this is like rape.’ But I could hardly breathe let alone speak.

It grew worse. In dispassionate tones the lady told how I had wondered- hoped that he might have kissed Éowyn, just once, so that when I kissed her I might have something of him. The gods’ truth I loved my wife. I loved her for herself but I could not deny what I had thought. The lady told of how I had speculated that Aragorn might tire of the lady Arwen if only for a day an hour or even a moment and then seek love elsewhere. She revealed my curiosity about whether Aragorn had ever lain with a man or even a male elf. If so I had wondered if he had enjoyed it.

In excruciating detail the lady spoke of all the thoughts I had struggled valiantly but vainly to smother. There was no strength in my legs. I felt my body shutting down. I dared not reach towards Aragorn’s emotions though I still sensed them at the edge of my mind. Oddly I did not feel any real change from his feelings but he was probably in shock even as I was and he was too frozen to change his feelings.

I had prayed it was nearly over. I tried to remember that nothing could truly last forever. All torment had to come to an end sometime if only in death. Perhaps that was so but pain does last forever for as long as it is happening and my suffering was not finished. The lady told him. . the lady told Aragorn, my dear, beloved lord, about my dream-fantasy. She spared me nothing. She spoke of every moan and sigh that my imaginary Aragorn had moaned and sighed. She told him how pleased I had been with myself when I had brought make-believe Aragorn to his release and she told him how excited I had been when the dream Aragorn had pulled me across his lap and beaten me like a naughty child.

I was swaying a little. If I had been allowed to speak I might have been mumbling to myself. I was so estranged from my surroundings that I didn’t realize it was finally finished until several moments after the lady had fallen silent. I accidently caught a glimpse of Aragorn as my head bobbed from side to side. I quickly cringed away from the passionate fury I saw in him. He was currently staring at the lady but I knew when he turned the full power of his angry gaze upon me I would certainly die. It would be a better death than I deserved. I wondered how the lady withstood it. Perhaps she could not for at that moment she vanished. As she disappeared I felt myself released and I flopped to the floor like a ragdoll that has fallen off its hook.

The stone was cool and comforting against my cheek. My eyes were closed and darkness surrounded me. I had not lost consciousness but I felt somehow distanced from what had just occurred. The razored caress of the lady’s voice no longer seemed to cut my heart. The stone supported my body as I lay motionless. I wanted nothing more than to lie where I was in the stillness and the silence, letting the unyielding stone carry my weight. I willed the stillness, the silence and the cold stone into myself. I felt my heart slowing, my breathing quieting and my flesh growing cold. Time passed.

There was now motion somewhere in the room. Soft sounds intruded upon the soothing silence. Had Death finally come for me? Had my body finally decided to grant my mind’s desperate prayer? Soon, let it be soon, before I came back to myself, before my body rebelled against my mind and struggled towards life and all its suffering. I wanted it to end now surrounded by the dark, the silence and the cold stone. Let it end while there were no humiliating tears, no futile attempts to excuse the inexcusable, no last abject plea for an undeserved forgiveness. Just a quick and clean ending of something that never should have begun. I hoped it would be quick, anyway. I was not afraid to die. I never had been but, oh gods, I was tired of hurting.

The sounds moved closer. I felt Death standing over me, scythe raised. On my mind’s horizon I saw a glimmering ocean of feelings. Like great tides the feelings reached for me. I pushed them back. I would grant myself this one last mercy. I would not force myself to experience my beloved’s rejection of me. I was ready. ‘Come Death. You cheated me at our last appointment. Come, you, now and make amends.’ Death swung his arm down. The scythe descended. ‘I love you, Aragorn. I love you and I am sorry.’ The world exploded in pain.

Death no longer stood over me but Aragorn. No weapon pierced me but Aragorn’s hand, warm and gentle, touched the side of my face sending the coldness fleeing back into the stone. Oh, it hurt. “Faramir.” He called my name in no more than a whisper but my heart leapt at the call and my lungs clamored for breath in hopes of bringing the sound into me.

The calm disconnection of my Death vision was gone. I was myself again; alive and aching. Terrible humiliation and despair flooded through me coupled with a soul crushing sorrow. With a whimper I scuttled away from Aragorn. I crouched against the room’s curving wall raising my hands half in supplication and half in self-defense. I turned my face to the wall and squeezed my eyes shut. Again, time passed.

Aragorn had not pursued me. My body could not maintain itself at such a high level of tension for long and after a while I started to calm down slightly. I let my eyes open into little slits. Aragorn still knelt on the ground close to where I must have fallen. When I saw that he was not looking directly at me I calmed further. While I had been distracted by my flight the vast ocean of Aragorn’s feeling had expanded. Though I tried to push them back to the periphery of my mind the emotions seemed to percolate through any boundary I put up. I was fighting a losing battle. With only a slight tremor I surrendered to the clamorous strength of his emotions.

I was engulfed by urgent concern shot through with sympathy and powerful regret but there was no hatred, no contempt and no disgust. I had no explanation. I just did not have the resources to try and figure out what was distorting my perceptions. No matter that it was false, the tide of consoling emotions had a soothing effect upon me. As I continued to watch Aragorn I finally realized that he was getting closer to me. He was moving silently and slowly. Also, he was not coming directly towards me but he was moving at angles giving the impression he was not even aware that he was approaching. It was as if he was hunting a particularly skittish rabbit. As I thought this I saw Aragorn wince slightly. “I mean you no harm, Faramir.” He said in a quiet, comforting tone.

“I know.” I answered in a small voice. All the adrenaline from my first blind attempt to escape had been used up. I was now slumped against the wall with my knees drawn up under my chin, watching my lord from under hooded eyes.

Aragorn now approached more directly though he still moved slowly so as not to alarm me. When he reached me I tried to pull myself inward so that I took up as little space as possible. Aragorn sat down next to me, letting me get used to his presence. He made no effort to touch me and I was glad. I was too heart sore and defiled to endure another human’s touch especially not the touch of the man sitting next to me. I still felt the calming influence of compassion coming from him, lapping gently at the shattered fragments of my mind. I would have to think about that mystery sometime, sometime but not now, not yet.

“I have done you a great wrong, dear-heart. If I had been more forthright with you, perhaps I could have spared you much suffering.” I heard Aragorn’s voice, deep and sad, but what he said made no sense.

“My lord, I don’t understand.” I said desolately, resting my forehead on my folded arms. I had truly grown stupid in the last few days. I used to be so vain about my intelligence. I had truly believed that I was almost clever and now even the simplest things seemed beyond my capacity. I suppose that that is what is meant by ‘poetic justice.’

“Faramir, surely it was clear to you that I have always cared about you deeply?” He asked.

“You have always been kind to me, more than kind. Very patient too, very patient I often marveled at how you tolerated me.” I whispered. Remembering just how good he had been to me brought home how contemptible I truly was.

Pain, like lightening, lanced through Aragorn’s emotions. Rushing in to fill the rips made by the shooting pain was that strange nameless emotion. The effect was like thunder and I shivered a little as I never would have done in a genuine storm.

“Oh, sweetheart, I never imagined it was this bad. You hide it so well. And… and perhaps I did not look as closely as I should have done.” Aragorn, at first, sounded shocked and then thoughtful. Even so, he kept his voice more or less calm and quiet. I still could not understand
his meaning except that perhaps he was finally coming to realize how terrible I was. I buried my face deeper in my arms.

“Faramir, it is very important that you listen to me. It was never a matter of ‘patience’ or ‘tolerance’. I have great affection for you. Each day was special if only you were there to keep company with me. You have been a joy to me ever since I first saw you battling the Witch-King while you lay wounded and unconscious. Even though, it looked hopeless you fought on bravely unwilling to surrender to the enemy. I admired you then but since I have grown to know you, Faramir, I have grown to love you. Are you listening, dear one?” Aragorn spoke steadily and clearly but the strength of his feelings flooded my mind. I did not know whether it was his strength, my own weakness or even if it was my own great wish but his affection for me was sluicing through me in torrents with nothing to stop it. Hope, small and faint, nudged at my awareness

“Yes.” I replied, my voice scarcely audible.

“You are so precious to me, Faramir, so astonishingly lovely. You must believe that I love you. It is true that I did not speak of it. That was a mistake, a mistake for which I shall never stop castigating myself but every time I drew close to you, beloved, I felt you retreat from me. I assumed you sensed something of my feelings and wished nothing to do with them. I did not want to frighten you, Faramir, or burden you with my love so I said nothing. I hoped that in time you would come to trust me, to see that you never had anything to fear from me.” Aragorn spoke earnestly almost pleadingly.

“Do you believe me, Faramir? Do you believe that I love you?” The question was asked in a hushed whisper but it rang through my mind.

“Yes,” that was the proper answer but “… I don’t know. I want to believe it so badly but… I don’t know.” I struggled hard to get the words past the tightness in my chest. I loved him so much but how could he love me? I was such a disappointment. I seemed to blight everything I touched. I grew weaker, stupider and more useless as each second passed. But these things were only symptoms of the greater truth: I was fundamentally unworthy of love, any love but most especially Aragorn’s love. I should never-

“Stop, Faramir! No more, I beg you.” His cry jarred me out of my thoughts. I raised my head from my arms to see what could have alarmed him. He was pale and there was a horrified expression on his face. I searched for an explanation and then I saw the star shining dully on his forehead and I remembered what it meant. My face darkened with shame and I lowered it again onto my arms.

“No, please look at me, sweetheart.” Reluctantly I raised my eyes to him

“Faramir, you are not by nature cruel but what you have just done was cruel. You must resist these thoughts. They are vile lies. They are terribly harmful. If anyone else had said such things about you, I may very well have done something I would have later regretted. You are dear to me, Faramir, I will not have you slandered, not by anyone.” He spoke forcefully and I did not doubt his abhorrence of my negative thoughts at all.

My eyes had grown very wide as he spoke. “Do you really love me?” I asked in a hushed whisper.

“Yes, I really do love you.” He answered, looking straight into my eyes.

I could not stop myself. “Really?” “Yes, really, really. I love you very much. You possess a keen and penetrating intelligence. You are quite possibly the most perceptive, incisive person man, wizard or elf I have ever known. In this one matter only, you are blind for the world is full of those that delight in you, Faramir. I wish I could show you how very much you mean to me.” I blushed at his words but I was starting to believe he meant them. Trembling a little I put my head on his shoulder. His arm was around my shoulders in an instant.

“The lady, she spoke the truth. All those things she said were true.” I was really shaking now but his arm held me fast. “She didn’t speak all the truth, though. She left out the most important thing. She never said that I love you. I love you so much.” My throat was dry and I was sweating. I felt like I was going to cry but no tears came.

“Oh, Faramir, I have waited so long to hear those words from you, my angel. You make me happy, beloved.” His voice was a caress. Now the tears did come but I did not bother to wipe them away. He loved me; nothing else mattered.

We sat together for a long time. Once in a while I heard the lady’s voice in my mind and I relived the terrible violation but then Aragorn would hold me tighter whispering that I was safe and the lady’s voice would grow faint. Finally, Aragorn bent his head and pressed a soft kiss to my temple. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

I gave him a weak but genuine smile. “I am much better than I was.”

He nodded returning my smile. “I don’t know about you but I am getting too old to sit in the dark on a cold, hard floor when there is greater comfort available.” So saying he patted my shoulder and rose gracefully to his feet. Once he was standing he offered me his hand to help me up.

I smiled again ‘too old’, indeed. Now he was just being silly. I took his hand preparing to lever myself to my feet but I stopped. His fingers were long and slim. I felt the power in them and I felt the rough callouses on his palm. My own hand was cold but his was warm. Carefully for I feared to ruin the tranquility between us by taking liberties I brought his hand to my lips and kissed it, just once. Then I hauled myself to my feet. To my delight we continued down the corridor hands clasped together.

When we reached the other room I saw that the table had been set for lunch. To my surprise my stomach growled. “I did not expect I would be hungry.” I murmured half to myself, half to my lord.

“It is a good sign, Faramir. An interest in food can often mean an interest in life.” Aragorn replied.

I blushed thinking that food was not the only thing that I was taking an interest in that could be construed as life-affirming. I did not pursue the thought, however. I was not ready. I still felt so fragile. “I don’t think I can bring myself to eat anything provided by the lady, though.” I said looking with a combination of longing and disgust at the mugs of frothy ale and plates of beef and mashed potatoes drowning in thick gravy.

“I still have a little bread and dried meat in my pack. Would that be better?” Aragorn offered moving to his pack.

“Yes, thank you.” I answered, clearing the table of the lady’s meal.

We passed a canteen of tepid water back and forth between us as we swallowed stale bread and chewed tough and stringy meat. It tasted delicious to me. I wanted nothing more from the lady. I wanted very much to escape from her cage, though I knew I had to endure it for a while longer. Refusing to eat her food, however, felt like a step towards independence.

“My lord, I have been thinking about what has been happening.” I said quietly as we finished eating. Aragorn expression reflected interest and attention, but from his emotions I felt concern that I had been brooding. There was also relief that I was finally volunteering information.

I continued trying to organize my thoughts. “The lady could be trying to turn us against each other. With her questions and… and the dreams she exposed vulnerabilities then she gave us each power over the other. It could be she hopes that fear, shame and paranoia will make us enemies so that we will battle and she can better judge our strengths.” I was thinking out loud. I desperately needed a way to make sense of what had been done to me. It followed a sort of twisted logic that someone like the lady might think I would grow to hate my beloved Aragorn since he had witnesses my humiliation and he had constant access to many of my most secret desires and imaginings.

“I had not thought of that. It would indeed be a subtle test of men’s ability to cooperate.” Aragorn said, considering. “Sometimes our host appears remarkably insightful and other times amazingly obtuse. I wonder if she even understood the nature of what she was doing to you.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I think most of the things she does are aimed at you. She knows that you are the stronger of us. I am only incidental.”

Aragorn leaned towards me, his voice taking on intensity. “Do not mistake my meaning, Faramir and do not underestimate your own strength. Few have been faced with the obstacles that you have been and yet you endure. I said nothing to mitigate our host’s guilt. She does not consider the harm she causes. She treated your feelings with depraved indifference. She is as despicable as if she did what she did for the sole purpose of causing pain.” He was angry now. His hand which had been casually gripping his sword tightened into a fist. He looked like an avenging angel.

“Please, my lord, don’t do anything to antagonize her.” I begged, suddenly afraid for him. If the lady was who I now believed her to be then I did not want her angry at my beloved lord. “It isn’t worth it. No permanent harm was done.” I licked my lips wondering if this last was entirely true. “Accept the lady’s gift. You shall become the most powerful lord who has ever lived and middle-earth will thrive under your control. Both Galadriel and Sauron accepted the lady’s gifts and Galadriel, at least, is considered wise and honorable.”

“Faramir, this ‘gift’ as you call it is hateful to me. I feel as though I were constantly peaking in at windows. If it were not that I could…” He paused and shook his head to clear it before continuing. “The power is innately wrong. I must not accept it. As far as antagonizing our host, I do not know what I may do against her but she is not excused merely because she is powerful.” The light of anger still glowed in his eye but he was calmer now.

I sat and worried. He had rejected the dream, would the lady permit him to reject the gift also? The lady might kill him in a fit of pique and I could not allow that to happen. I tried to think from the lady’s perspective: What would she gain by having Aragorn accept the power to read thoughts- or at least read thoughts that concerned him. I thought about Sauron and Galadriel. I wondered if Galadriel had dreamed of the magic mirror or if she had dreamed of the mind reading power. Which was the gift and which the desire? The more I learned of this test, the less well I liked Galadriel. And then I fell upon a new idea.

“I think the lady wants you to accept her gift so that she will always be able to control you.” I said rather excitedly. Aragorn had also been lost in reverie but he focused back on me when I spoke. When he heard me I saw an answering insight dawn in his eyes but I was so intent upon explaining my idea that I rushed on. “All Galadriel’s power depends upon her mirror and her ability to see into hearts. Perhaps that was not always so, but now if you were to take those things away from her she would be helpless. She has a window on the world through her mirror so she never bothers to visit the real world. She is safe in her wood but she is also trapped there. She can look into people’s minds so she never bothers to get to know them or to develop a trusting relationship with anyone. All the lady would have to do is threaten to take away what had been given and Galadriel would have no choice but to cooperate.”

“For Sauron the situation was similar. The dark lord was immensely powerful but he grew to depend too much upon the ring. When the ring was destroyed Sauron’s power simply faded away, but we might not have been able to defeat Sauron in a fair fight. If the ring had simply not been part of the equation it was anyone’s guess how the war would have ended. Besides Sauron wasted a lot of resources hunting the ring. Sauron would have been better served sending the Naz-gul to strafe Gondor than to pursue hobbits.” I finished a little breathless.

Aragorn was smiling at me and I sensed he felt a great pride in me. “I believe you have discovered the key to this mystery. When I said I hated this power to know thoughts, I spoke the truth. There is one advantage, however, to the ability. Forgive me, Faramir, but your mind has been brutally assaulted. If I can ‘see’ the wounds it is easier to try to do what healing I may.” As Aragorn spoke I realized that it was true. I had been hurt, the cruel questioning, the unattainable promise of the dream-vision and the brutal revelation of my secrets was all so that Aragorn would be tricked into accepting an insidious power that he could nonetheless use to help me. Once we left this place the lady hoped that Aragorn would- despite his reluctance- eventually grow to depend on the power until he could not do without it then the lady could use him when and if she needed to. It was fiendish.

I felt a sense of triumph at penetrating the lady’s designs but I was also horrified at the cynical calculation that must have gone into the planning. I was not a child I knew that sometimes people had to be hurt to achieve political goals but that didn’t make it right. Sometimes it was necessary but it was not right. The lady did not seem to feel that questions of right and wrong applied to her and that terrified me.

As the day wore on I found myself staring at Aragorn with increasing regularity. I had fallen into a contemplative silence after our discussion concerning the lady. To occupy himself Aragorn had retrieved a pouch from his pack full of seed pods. He used his dagger to pry open the pods and then he used the hilt to crush the green seeds on the inside to powder. The powder was then put carefully into another pouch. When I asked he told me that if you collected the seed pods, waited a few days for them to dry then crushed only the green seeds discarding the brown and yellow you could make a remedy to cure most any stomach ailment. I asked if I could help and together we worked on extracting and pulverizing the little seeds.

While we worked Aragorn would occasionally ask a question or compliment my work. Once he looked up and without preamble said simply. “I still love you, Faramir, you mustn’t forget that.” It took me a while to realize that his comments corresponded to the times my own thoughts began drifting into the self-abusive. He was right, those thoughts must have been harmful I felt so much better having gone just a few hours without wallowing in self-hatred.

As I continued to feel better, however, other thoughts started to become more frequent. I was profoundly mortified as my thoughts seemed driven to contemplations of Aragorn’s grey eyes, the perfect curve of his shoulders and his stern but somehow benevolent profile. My lord had said he loved me and I was slowly beginning to accept that wonderful fact but that didn’t necessarily mean he desired me, did it? He was so beautiful sitting there. I really should try to exercise a little more self-control. If I just leaned over and… and kissed him would it be as wonderful as I imagined? Why couldn’t I stop thinking about this? I loved him so much, I desired him so much. Why was I being so ungrateful when I already had so much more than I deserved?

“Faramir,” the sound of my name brought me, blushing, out of my thoughts. “Now that things are a bit calmer. I think it is only fair that I tell you of my dream, that is, if you are interested.” Aragorn offered as he collected all the powdered seeds from the table.

Of course I was interested but why was he volunteering such personal information? Was it only to distract me from my inappropriate thoughts? With my hand on my scabbard I tried to probe his motivation. This was wrong of me, but I was so curious and I had to know if he truly wished to share or if he was only offering out of kindness. I studied his feelings and I sensed so much trust that I retreated from his emotions ashamedly.

“I would like very much to know of your dream, my lord.” I admitted.

“Very well, Faramir. This was what I dreamed: I was walking through the palace garden on a bright and sunny day. I could smell the perfume of the flowers and the sun was warm on my back. Soon I came to the fountain and I found you reading in the shade.” I was not sure but I thought I saw a hint of pink coloring Aragorn’s sun darkened complection. Even so, he spoke without faltering. “You were reading Bilbo’s story: ‘There and Back Again.’ When you saw me you smiled your lovely smile. I came to sit by you and I asked what you thought of the book. You said that you found the shire very charming and thought it must be a wonderful place for children to grow up. Then you began telling me stories of your own childhood. I had never heard you speak so unreservedly before and I was delighted that you chose to open your heart to me. You spoke of happy times and sad but the sadness did not consume you.”

“You asked me about my past and I told stories I had nearly forgotten. Then I told you about the ring quest. You asked about Boromir and I said that he spoke of you often. It was clear he loved and admired you greatly. After that we were both quiet for a while appreciating the day and content to be in each other’s company. The afternoon was fading to evening and though I wished to stay I had duties awaiting me. Reluctant as I was to leave you I asked if you would return with me to the castle. You smiled and there was something close to mischief in your eyes. You said that you would much prefer that we both stay where we were. I thought a little while longer would do no harm so I remained where I was.”

“As the sun sank behind the city walls you came suddenly into my arms. You were kissing me and after only a moment’s pleased confusion I was kissing you in return. You were laughing and I had never seen you so joyous. The joy reverberated in my own heart and I was happy. You did not run from my embrace. You let me hold you close though I could not seem to clasp you tightly enough to me. I wanted very much to tell you that I loved you. I was struggling to find my courage. Ah, but it was so good simply to hold you so I delayed and luxuriated in the feel of you. I wanted more of you, my dear, but I had to tell you what you meant to me. As I began to speak I felt you begin to fade away from me. I was desperate to hold you but you were gone and I was left alone. That was what I dreamed, Faramir and hard it was to reject the promise of its fulfilment.”

Aragorn was staring off into the middle distance, lost in contemplation. I felt a great rushing sound in my ears. Without giving myself time to think I leaned forward and kissed the side of his mouth. In the next moment his arms were around me. In the same instant he came to his feet pulling me with him. I heard his chair crash to the floor behind him as he claimed my mouth in a fierce kiss. I kissed back with all the stored up passion of a lifetime spent in quiet desperation. My hands quested over him, pressing him to me with my fingers, palms, wrists and forearms. I sucked at his lips and tongue, trying to draw him further into me. When lack of breath finally forced our mouths apart I groaned and still gulping for air I pressed quick kisses onto his throat.

I heard Aragorn breathing rapidly and I felt his chest heaving against my own. He was life and he was stronger than death. “I love you, I love you.” I repeated over and over again. As I continued to frantically kiss his neck and shoulders.

“Faramir,” My name on his lips was a blessing, a holy thing. “Faramir, my darling I have wanted you for so long.” I moaned and tears again streamed from my eyes. I had cried more in the last few weeks then I had in my entire life, but I was not ashamed. Some great wound within me had been lanced and the tears carried the poison from my soul. Aragorn took my head between his hands and I looked up at him with adoration in my eyes. He kissed my forehead, my temples, my eyelids, the sides of my face and even my chin. He ran his tongue over my parted lips. I was breathing in short gasps and my fingers dug into his back. He did not quite kiss my lips though I strove against his restraining hands to make fuller contact. He stayed close sharing my breath and giving only the gentlest of kisses and caresses.

He drove me near to madness with his gentleness. When he finally released me and wound his arms around my waist once more I attacked him with redoubled ardor. I exhausted myself trying to meld my flesh to my beloved Aragorn’s. I tugged at his shirt and tunic, suddenly, the cloth barrier between us seemed unbearable. Obligingly Aragorn allowed me to undress him. I tried to be careful but my fingers had grown clumsy with urgency. When I had finally subdued his shirt and tunic I fell to kissing his bare chest and rubbing my face into his shoulders. Soon Aragorn’s fingers began working at my own clothing. I tried to cooperate but it was awkward for I did not want to let him go long enough to get my arms out of the sleeves. We both laughed a little as we wrestled with the garments. After much struggle I was free and we stood gazing at each other.

Aragorn caressed my cheek. “My Faramir, you are such a beauty.” He said eyes clouded with desire. His words were so close to what he had said in my dream that I was thrown into a panic. This time I would not lose him. I clutched him tightly and my fingernails rent the flesh of his back. I pressed so hard against him that when I felt his heart beating against my breast I could imagine his heart beat for both of us.

Aragon held me closely in return. “I am not going anywhere, my lovely, not without you. Faramir, Faramir I want you with me forever.” He soothed. The knife belt still hung around my waist sending me proofs of his desire and… and love. Just a few days ago I was content to live the rest of my life patiently waiting for a glimpse of my beloved for a just a moment of his attention. Now I knew what is was to be held in his arms and I could never again be content with less. My passion had been given an opportunity to burn openly and the fire could not be banked or contained. Greed, selfishness, lust, true love by whatever name it could be called, nothing would ever part me from my lord.

“Will you let me show you how beautiful you are, loveling?” He asked petting my tousled hair.

“Don’t let me go. Please, Aragorn, please I need you to hold me.” I answered not sure what he had in mind but a little frightened. I even called him ‘Aragorn’ in hopes of pleasing him. It wasn’t that I thought I was hideous. I wasn’t. There was just nothing particularly attractive about my appearance.

“Trust me, beloved. I won’t let you go.” He promised. Slowly I nodded. I was still not certain what was to come but I could deny him nothing.

Aragorn turned me around slowly so that my back pressed against his front. Happily I rubbed my back against him relishing the warmth of him and enjoying the tickle of the hairs on his chest against my back. When I discovered the steel of his erection pressing against me I writhed against him with a renewed sense of purpose. Aragorn had been kissing my ear and the side of my neck when he hissed as I wriggled against his hard shaft. “Stop that, sweetheart, or I shall lose all control.” he warned, gently nipping my ear in remonstrance.

I grinned, curving my neck backward to demand a kiss. As he kissed me I twisted against him once more inviting him to lose control. I belonged to him and I wanted so very much for him to claim me. He groaned, but he still had a plan and was not to be deterred. He put one arm around my waist to hold me quiet. His other hand he placed over my hand, his thumb covering my thumb, his index finger over my index finger and so on. His hand was a little larger than mine so that he could grip my hand even as he covered it. He brought my now captured hand to his mouth and brushed his tongue across my palm. He licked tiny circles onto my fingertips. I wanted to touch his face and caress his lips and jaw but I was held back. Too soon he took my hand from his mouth and placed it against my own chest.

“Faramir, You are beautiful. Your hair is as black as a raven’s wing, yet your skin is as pale as the moon.” As Aragorn spoke he moved my hand down my chest. My slick hand ran across the taught skin of my belly and circled my navel. “Can you feel how soft and yet how firm your skin is, Faramir?” My own thumb under Aragorn’s firm direction was rubbing my nipple to hardness. “But of all the many marvels your eyes are the most wondrous. They contain fathomless understanding and infinite kindness. A man could drown in the blue ocean of your gaze, my darling.” Aragorn kissed me as he continued running my hand over my own body. I tried to visualize the picture my lord was painting. I did not recognize myself and yet the flesh under my hand was pleasing to touch.

Even as I started to enjoy the feel of my own body I kept my other hand in constant contact with Aragorn. I reached behind me to stroke his side and from time to time I caressed the arm that held my waist. Aragorn continued speaking. He spoke of red lips full and swollen with kissing and thick eyelashes and an almost pointed chin that could be lifted in a display of regal defiance. I listened as I pressed back into Aragorn and ran my hand up and down my throat then over my face pulling at my lips and pushing back stray tendrils of silky dark hair. Was that last description mine or his? I could not remember.

The honeyed words continued to flow into my ear. Aragorn had ceased holding me still and had begun to caress me himself. I was moaning softly with my head lolling back against Aragorn so he could kiss my neck and shoulders. At some point he had released my hand and I was no longer guided by him as I pinched my nipple crying out at the painful pleasure.

“Now do you see why I must have you, dear-heart?” Aragorn breathed into my ear as he took hold of my erect penis through my trousers.

I could not answer him as jubilant sensations washed through me. I maneuvered myself around to face him. Then I ground against him moaning at the friction. Aragorn began working my trousers down my hips and moving us towards the beds.

When we reached the nearest bed we collapsed onto it pulling down the gauzy draperies with us. Aragorn made a low aggressive sound in his throat and moved to quickly remove the rest of my clothing then he started to do the same for himself. I was little help, though, for as he pulled at his boots I coiled myself around him kissing his face and wriggling against his lap.

After Aragorn had finally succeeded in fully undressing he pushed me gently but firmly down onto the bed. His hands and mouth played over my entire body. The only exception, however, was that he stayed away from my right hip where the lady’s dagger sheath hung against me. I would writhe in spasms of pleasure and when by chance the empty scabbard touched him he shied away as if it stung before returning to the thorough exploration and conquest of my quivering body.

My understanding of the lady’s gift was becoming ever more subtle. Since the sheath was so closely associated with me I was beginning to sense how he felt about the thing. He seemed to perceive it as somehow threatening, dangerous and thoroughly unerotic. Truly, I wished I could remove the alien thing so that I could relieve my lord’s distress. And yet… and yet, it was so good to feel the endless flood of love, affection and desire flow into me. It reassured me and eased my fear. I loved him so much. I needed the lady’s gift to be certain, to accept that it was indeed Aragorn’s hands upon me, that he truly did care for me and that he would not be stolen from me in the next moment by fate’s cruel whim.

I had no more time for thought as Aragorn grasped the length of my throbbing penis. I made a strangled gurgling sound in my throat as Aragorn squeezed gently and ran his thumb over the little slit at the head.

“Don’t hold back, my darling. I want to hear your pleasure. No restraint, Faramir, not now.” Aragorn’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it seemed to have taken hold of my heart as surely as he had taken hold of my yearning flesh. I nodded vigorously, letting myself moan helplessly as he continued to fondle me.

I had my arms around his neck but he began to use his other hand to extricate himself. I whimpered forlornly as my groping hands were gently batted away from my lord’s neck. “Wait, beloved.” came the quiet command. I kept one hand against his shoulder which was apparently still permitted and the other wandered almost of its own accord to the lady’s knife belt. Aragorn moved slowly down my body until I felt his chest against my thighs. Then I did cry out, as loudly as he could have wished, for Aragorn’s mouth had replaced his hand and he was now moving his tongue back and forth over the weeping slit.

I wrapped my legs around Aragorn’s waist crossing my ankles and trying to pull him closer to me. My fingers dug into his back and with no control over myself whatsoever I thrust my hips wildly. The ferocity of my need for him caught Aragorn off guard and it took him a moment to recover from my unbridled fervor. I calmed under his gentling and soon he was setting me a slow pace that I had no choice but to follow. His tongue stroked up and down my rigid shaft while he massaged my balls. Then he began taking me into his mouth a little at a time. At the same time he continued to fondle my balls but he moved his hand even further back until he came to the tight ring of muscle at my opening. I whined for more even as I tilted myself upwards to give him greater access. Now he was taking me all the way into him very slowly. I feared I would lose consciousness if he did not move faster. One finger continued to probe gently at my entrance. He never went more than a few centimeters into me but he worked at stretching the muscles. I wanted him to go deeper as badly as I wanted him to go faster. There were so many new sensations and new feelings. It seemed like it would all be beyond my ability to experience and yet I was experiencing it.

“Aragorn, please, my lord. Don’t stop please. I need you so much, please.” I panted nearly incoherent. I felt Aragorn tense ever so slightly at my supplications and the scabbard at my hip told me that my words had the power to increase his own pleasure in me. I cried his name again as he increased his pace. He grasped my hips hard as he brought me closer to release, though, even now he was wary of the knife belt. I was drowning in a rising tide of ecstacy, I had to struggle for each breath until with a sudden crash the world disappeared leaving only an indescribable rapture.

Aragorn had pulled me close to him and I lay still trembling in his arms. As soon as I was able I put my arms around him. “Did I truly exist before I met you? The world was grey before you touched me.” I murmured into his chest. “Somehow I must have always known you were there somewhere in some part of my mind or I could not have endured. I recognized you the moment I saw you, the moment I heard your voice. I’ve always known you: my lord and my love.”

He kissed me sweetly. I felt a warm tear slip down my cheek and I was not surprised that I was again crying but as I reached toward my eyes I realized that it was not I who wept. I rested in the perfect safety of Aragorn’s embrace for several moments recovering my strength. I felt Aragorn’s continued desire press against me and the empty scabbard showed me ardent passion barely held back. The knowledge of his unsated hunger spurred the renewal of my own excitement. Very soon I was kissing him again, eager to bring him pleasure.

“Faramir, loveling, have you ever been with a man before?” Aragorn asked putting a momentary hold on the kissing.

“No, my lord.” I answered with a bit of a grin. There had never been another man nor would there be any other but him.

“Do you know what it is I want to do with you, sweetheart?” I found that question very exciting. I hoped there were a great many things he wished to do with me.

“Yes,” I replied but honesty forced me to add “I thinks so.” Though the addition unfortunately made me sound like a complete innocent. I knew things of this sort went on between soldiers but somehow- perhaps because of my place as my father’s son I had never had first hand experience. I had done, however, a great deal of reading of ancient texts and historical documents. It was amazing the sort of things you could learn from history. I knew of how men loved men from the older generations. I did not know, I thought as my mind skated manicly from idea to idea, how women loved women. History had been oddly silent on that question. I had always wondered if Éowyn might tell me but I had never been able to talk about such things candidly with her. Perhaps with a little effort I could change that. Gods it was so much easier to be confident, forthright and open when things didn’t hurt all the time.

I felt Aragorn’s keen gaze piercing me and I struggled to reign in my racing thoughts. I sensed reluctance warring with fierce passion within Aragorn and my heart thudded madly. Why the reluctance? Could it be that after all this he found me somehow unappealing?

He drew me close for a reassuring hug before he took a deep breath to speak again. “Are you willing to let me make love to you, Faramir. I am sorry, dear, but there will be some pain. If you are willing to try we can stop whenever you like.” It was his nature to ask he had no choice really. But he could have used me to test the sharpness of his sword and I would have had no complaint. Surely he knew that.

“Yes, make love to me. If there is pain it will be a healing pain.” I told him leaning forward to kiss his mouth and run worshipful fingers over the steel of his erection. He kissed me back and pushed harder into my hand.

After several savage kisses he moved away from me, a little breathless. “We need something to make this easier, my dear.” He said, attempting to rise.

I grabbed hold of him suddenly apprehensive: “Nothing of the lady’s. Please, my lord. Please, Aragorn.” I begged. Aragon nodded his understanding and with great reluctance I let him go to his pack. It was a thrill just watching him cross the room. While he rummaged I fetched my discarded shirt and tied it around the scabbard. There was no effect upon my abilities to sense his emotions, of course, but I hoped it would make Aragorn more comfortable.

Aragorn finally returned to me carrying a small jar which I had seen him use to cover minor scrapes and scratches earlier in our journey. When he saw that I had covered the scabbard he grinned and kissed me. I watched him open the jar and rub some of salve onto his fingers. I reached for the jar myself and he gave it to me. I sniffed at it but there was no odor that I could detect. Then I dipped my fingers in to feel the greasy substance. I took a mid-sized dollop and rubbed it into my hands. When I was done I took Aragorn’s penis into my hands, carefully massaging the cream into his flesh. Soon Aragorn was moaning softly into my ear and I was starting to rub with greater enthusiasm.

With a stifled cry Aragorn removed my hands from his straining shaft. Unable to resist I brought my hands to my mouth and licked at the liquid that had dripped onto my fingers as I had stroked him. Aragorn took the pillows and stacked them in the center of the bed. Then he guided me over them so that I was lying on my stomach with my hips slightly raised. I opened my legs without any urging. My heart and soul lay spread before him as surely as my body.

I knew that the long delay was starting to cause him real pain but even so he carefully inserted two fingers into me continuing to stretch my muscles. Now that he had me better positioned he probed more deeply. I had always been modest even bashful, but I was completely shameless when it came to his touch. I was already jerking upward desperate to further impale myself onto his fingers.

My lord was also impatient and he did not require further proof of my readiness, though I would have gladly begged for him. Aragorn shifted position to kneel between my legs. I bent my knees but I kept my arms fully extended in front of me on the bed. Aragorn put his arms around my waist and pulled me a little closer to him so that my chest and forehead dragged a few inches along the bed. My stomach muscles tightened. I was breathless with anticipation.

There was a moment when I felt him pressing against me then he pushed gently and he was inside me. I nearly screamed. It felt like I was being torn in half yet at the same time I felt like I was being made whole. The pain was already starting to subside overwhelmed by a growing sense of completion.

“Are you all right?” Aragorn demanded his voice edged with fear and concern. Even as he spoke I felt him begin to withdraw from me.

“Yes,” I answered quickly. “Don’t stop.” I begged. I tried to rock backward onto him but it was difficult to find my balance. His arm around my waist steadied me and moving together he ventured further into me. Aragorn was careful. He moved slowly, letting me adjust to him. As time went on I was finding greater and greater pleasure in the way he moved within me and the way he had such complete control over me as I lay defenseless and vulnerable beneath him. I even took a perverse pleasure in the residual pain which though it had dulled considerably still lingered.

Aragorn moved back and forth inside me. The third time he buried himself deeply and he touched something. This time I did scream but it was scream of unadulterated pleasure. When I cried out Aragorn struck that tiny part of me again and I nearly went into convulsions. He was thrusting into me with greater force now and I thrust myself onto him with all the strength I could muster. Each time he found that special place I would cry out and as if in answer from the lightening storm of my lord’s emotions I saw gladness flash. Indeed as our love making grew more intense it became harder to distinguish between Aragorn’s feeling and my own.

As Aragorn continued plunging into me I began to whimper with the nearly unbearable ache that had been pulsing in my groin for a long time now. I squirmed a little trying to make contact with something, anything at all, but there was nothing. In response to my movement Aragorn’s arm around me tightened and he drove into me with even more power. This evidence of his mastery only increased the throbbing in my painfully hard penis.

I was not going to be forced to suffer much longer though. After a few more savage thrusts Aragorn took me in hand and began pumping in rhythm with the forceful motion of his hips. We were both very near orgasm. My emotions were merging with my lord’s even as our bodies merged. I was jerking my hips wildly, down into pleasure, up into ecstacy. And then in a moment of sublime unity we came together. An identical cry of savage triumph was ripped from two throats and I felt myself collapsing still joined with my beloved Aragorn.

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