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Warriors of Gondor (NC-17) Print

Written by Hel

14 May 2012 | 182144 words | Work in Progress

Part 17: THE GATHERING DARKNESS

The room was filled with an eerie light as he removed the cloth that covered the palantir. After staring at it for awhile he felt almost foolish about his earlier fears. It must have been something that Mithrandir had done that had caused all the problems before. This time was completely different. Stepping closer, Denethor looked into the seeing stone following the instructions Saruman had sent him.

The feeling of powerlessness that had been building in him as his sons grew ever more popular was swept away as he was able to see every city as he thought of it. He could see first hand what was happening in Gondor. He had to work hard to control what he saw, everything tended to blur together and he couldn’t hear what was being said. As the hours wore on he found that if he concentrated he could read documents and occasionally even the lips of those speaking. This would give him an unprecedented advantage against the spy network his youngest son had set up. He knew that Boromir, though an outstanding military commander, wasn’t the kind of man who would make use of subterfuge.

At the thought of Boromir and the stone clouded then cleared. He expected to see his oldest son sleeping in a darkened tent this late at night. Instead he was on his knees before Éomer letting him thrust his cock into his mouth. It infuriated the Steward to see his heir like this. He thought he’d accepted his son’s relationship with the prince, but seeing him in such a subservient position was more than he could tolerate. He hadn’t spent so many years of hard work just to see his sons kneel down before any king, let alone some barbarian prince.

Focusing on his youngest son, he tried to see what Faramir was doing and met nothingness. He knew that he was in the rooms he shared with his brother here in the tower, and surmised that there was some sort of blockage, probably from when Mithrandir had been there. He would write Saruman and see if he could tell him how to break through it.

Throwing the cover back over the palantir, he left the attic room intent on changing what he’d seen and hadn’t seen.


The crystal had turned black. Saphron stared at the burnt stone in Stefle’s hand and thought of all the materials she would need to reset the wards the wizard had put on the brother’s rooms. “Yes, it means that the palantir has been activated again,” she told him.

“Can you counteract it?” Cara asked from the desk.

“The wards here are still working, but we will have to check them regularly,” she paused a look of disgust on her face. “We will have to completely redo those around our lords’ rooms. I think we should only do partial shields there though. If we do complete shields ‘he’ will know that we are doing them. We need to set up a safe area, but leave everything else open. According to all the records we could find only an adept or the king will be able to hear words, but any good user will be able to read anything written.”

“Lord Boromir does not want him watching Lord Faramir,” Stefle interjected. “He will want their bedroom shielded.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Saphron told him. “But I don’t think I will be able to do anything that will last longer than a few days.”

“Lord Boromir should be back within the week, he was halfway across Anorien when the courier left him this morning,” Cara informed them. “We will do what we can until then. Have you made any progress on personal amulets?”

“I think so, but I’m not sure how we can test them,” Saphron hesitated for a moment looking at the notes in the little book she now carried all the time. “There might be another problem. The palantiri are property of the king and connected to him whether he sits on the throne or not. That may also link them to our lords and any who have joined them in their vows of loyalty. I’ll have to have the cooperation of someone who wears the seal of the king to be able to find out. If only the wizard were here, I’m sure he would know.”


Forgoing the usual protocol, the man had thrown himself down at Boromir’s feet and remained prostrate until he had his lord’s complete and private attention. Even then he had kept his face to the ground until he had related the entire oral message he’d been sent to deliver.

Years of practice kept his face from revealing his outrage at what he was being told. Memories of the pain and suffering his brother had endured the last time his father had meddled with the palantir filled him with loathing. He was trapped by the campaign he was waging against the roving bands of orcs that had infested Anorien, though soon he would return home. Even then his options would be limited.

He had no direct power over his father, no way to force him to stop using the seeing stone. Leaving Gondor had also stopped being an option. With all those who counted on them as well as the vows he and his brother had made to serve the king there was no way he could abandon his duty and still retain any sort of honor. Killing his father would have been his favorite choice at the moment. That the man would choose to do something so foolish after the last disastrous results was proof enough that he lacked any sanity let alone morality. This was not an option either however, not yet anyway.

Galmar had isolated all of the Steward’s servants so that poisoning was out of the question. Direct confrontation would lead to civil war, which Gondor wouldn’t survive at this time, not with Mordor breathing down their necks. He would have to find another way to keep his brother safe, and all those who relied on them. There was no doubt in his mind that his father would deal as ruthlessly with their followers as he had done with others in the past.

The network he and his brother had built was in danger of being discovered by the man he had come to consider his worst enemy, his own father. He knew that given the chance, Denethor would force them to bend to his wishes. While that would be unfortunate for him personally, it would be disastrous, even fatal, for his beloved brother.

Taking the packet of letters from the courier, he pretended to look them over while he dictated a new message to be taken back to Minas Tirith. Things would have to change to suit the new circumstances. He would have to tell his brother all the things he had been keeping from him, no matter how much it would hurt him. In the meantime, preparations had to be made.


Rising early, Faramir had ridden out of Minas Tirith to greet his brother. In the three months they’d been parted he’d become more aware of the net of spies and protection his brother had created just to protect him. He’d long known that Boromir knew far more then he let on but Faramir had chosen to let himself be sheltered by his older brother. Now all that was changing and there was no longer any way he could ignore what he didn’t want to see.

The sight of Boromir riding towards him wiped all thought of their problems from his mind. He urged his horse to greater speed as his brother’s mount broke into a gallop. They reined in close to each other and Faramir swung himself behind his brother, glad that Boromir had his shield tied to his saddle instead of his back. The older brother laughed as he was grasped in strong arms and a welcome mouth covered his own.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Faramir whispered into his ear before burying his face in Boromir’s neck.

“And I have missed you, my beloved one,” Boromir told him, reaching one hand back to lock his fingers in his brother’s hair so that he could pull him into another kiss. “I’ve brought you a special gift from Éomer,” he said, knowing that it would be too easy to continue kissing his brother.

Faramir looked at the horse that was following Boromir’s mount without benefit of a lead rope or any tack. He easily recognized the Mearas line in the mare. Responding to his call, the horse came beside Boromir’s mount nuzzling Faramir’s outstretched hand. “She is beautiful, brother,” the younger man said as he slid onto her bare back. “As is the one he has given you.”

They rode side-by-side back to the city, Belgar leading the horse Faramir had ridden out on. Word had spread that Boromir was returning and the streets were lined with cheering people. In the months that he had been gone the brothers had become even more popular with the victories in Anorien and Faramir’s constant presence in the city. Since he had not been allowed to leave, he’d spent as much of his time as possible among the people.

Denethor was glad to have his favorite son home again, though the sight of the two horses brought angry memories of the prince of the Mark. He couldn’t hold back a criticism of his youngest son riding bareback and bridleless as well as so lightly armed. The temptation to deny them the time together he usually granted was strong, but as he started to speak he looked into Boromir’s eyes and realized he could deny him nothing. The relationship between his sons had become common knowledge over the years and he no longer worried about any scandal associated with them. Still, he was searching for a way to permanently separate the two and end their relationship with Éomer.

Watching them climb the stairs to their rooms, he wished he could go to the palantir and eavesdrop on their conversation instead of attending to the business of running a large kingdom. Even though he wouldn’t be able to hear their words he had grown quite adept at reading lips. He was convinced that Faramir was the one who urged Boromir to defiance and undermined the power of the Steward with his fanatical followers. His oldest son was the epitome of everything Denethor had wanted to be, and as guileless as a child in his father’s eyes.


As soon as the door closed behind them, they began removing each other’s clothes. Despite the dreams, each separation was an agony to them only relieved by being each other’s arms again. They barely made it to their bed before Boromir had thrust his hard cock into his brother. There was nothing to compare to the bliss they felt in this first frenzied coupling, secure in the knowledge that this was just the beginning. As they reached their climax they called each other’s names, feeling whole once more.

Boromir rolled to his side without withdrawing from Faramir. Already he was becoming hard again and he wanted to see his brother riding him to completion. “You feel so good, my beloved one,” he whispered. “If only we could stay like this forever and let the rest of the world go on without us. I have missed you so much.” He buried his face in his brother’s hair feeling a wave of sadness overcome him at what he knew they now faced.

“I would crawl inside you, my heart,” Faramir replied. “You are everything to me. Let me show you how much I need you.” He continued their movement until Boromir lay beneath him. Flexing the muscles in his legs and ass, he felt the cock buried inside him reach full hardness. Slowly, he began rising to drop back down when only the head of Boromir’s penis was still within him. Faramir’s hands joined with Boromir’s as they held his hips. He could feel their bond as they moved together and faintly felt the contact with Éomer.

As they became more and more immersed in each other, they began to cry out uncontrollably. Each time they joined like this the bond became stronger, their tattoos almost burning. Their joining was beyond anything they had previously experienced. Faramir began increasing the pace, his eyes locked with his brother’s. At the pinnacle of their climax, they both called out loudly lost in the intensity of the moment.

Faramir leaned forward, snuggling into his brother’s chest. As Boromir’s softened cock came loose from him, he rose up enough to adjust their penises next to each other. Running his hands over his brother’s body, Boromir couldn’t resist slipping a finger into his stretched and slick hole. He wanted to be as much in contact with him as possible.

They lay silently together absorbing the pleasure of being so close. Breathing in each other’s scent and feeling each other, they were as happy as they could be with their world falling apart.


The sun shone brightly on the hills as they rode along. Their escort kept a discrete distance so that the two princes and the princess could talk privately. Éowyn tried to school her expression to calmness as she heard her brother’s disturbing report. Despite everything, she had not expected Gríma to be a traitor.

“Is there nothing we can do to stop him?” she questioned Brinel who was her constant companion.

“He has too many supporters in Edoras, your highness,” the small woman answered. “And we have no substantial proof, only coincidence and innuendo. Neither do we know who else is involved. It could be fatal to remove the enemy we know for one we don’t. With self-control and planning, we can work to change things in our favor.”

“Maybe if I talked to my father?” Théodred spoke up. At fourteen he was already nearly as big as many adults and full of confidence.

“He has turned as deaf an ear to you as he has to me,” Éomer said sadly. “We are too young and wild to know what we are speaking about in his eyes. It was all I could do to get him to release you to ride on patrol with me.”

“What could he possibly be expecting in payment?” the crown prince asked. “He already has control of the treasury and the king’s seal.”

“What is it that makes his eyes gleam with avarice, your royal highness?” Brinel queried him. “You have been watching these last few months, what have you seen?”

“His gaze follows Éowyn when she comes to comfort my father with her presence,” Théodred answered quickly. “But if things continue the way they’ve been, father may agree to give her to him in marriage, so that couldn’t be it.” He paused, thinking of all he had observed of the chief advisor. “He also watches Éomer,” the young man said suddenly. “I’ve often been grateful that his eyes don’t follow my every move as they do my cousins.” Looking up, he saw the angry blush on Éomer’s face and the outrage on Éowyn’s and knew he had guessed correctly.

“But that is preposterous!” he exclaimed. “How could he expect to receive them from the wizard of Orthanc?”

“You can be assured there is some plan established,” Brinel assured him. “That is one of the reasons I’ve been working so hard to train all three of you in the ways of unarmed combat. You especially, my young prince, must be careful. There is no way that you will be allowed to survive should our enemies gain the upper hand in Rohan, even if the worm wanted you as much as your cousins.”

All three of the young people paled at her words, even though the older two had suspected that this was probably the plan for some time. Théodred had been little more than a motherless infant when Éomer and Éowyn had come to live with their uncle. Both of the older children had adored their cousin on first sight and adopted him even more readily than their uncle had adopted them. Nearly his every waking hour (and many of his sleeping hours) had been spent in the company of one or both of them. They’d each spent more time with him than his own father and loved him as much as they loved each other.

“I will kill any who even looks like they would harm you, my prince,” Éomer told him with feeling.

“As would I, cousin,” Éowyn added.

They rode on for awhile longer, knowing that there was much danger in their world and only constant vigilance and a lot of luck would see them safely through their coming trials.


Denethor spoke briefly with Galmar before he entered the chamber where he was meeting with the leaders of Minas Tirith. He wanted the ties his sons had to Éomer severed. That the prince would give them such priceless mounts appeared tantamount to a bribe to him. That Faramir rode his in the style of the elves was also beyond aggravating. He hated elves almost as much as he hated Thorongil. The horses had to go.


“There are things I need to tell you, brother,” Boromir said as he leaned back against the headboard pulling Faramir into his arms. “Father is using the palantir,” he stated harshly.

“I know about that,” Faramir informed him. “I can feel it when he does, especially when he uses it to spy on me.”

“I wish I could tell,” Boromir said wistfully. “It’s unnerving, wondering if he’s looking over my shoulder.”

“Maybe I can show you, brother. We can try when he uses it tonight,” Faramir suggested. “But I know that there is more you have to tell me, though I’m sure I’ve learned much of it already.”

“I prepared some letters for you just in case something happened to me,” Boromir began. “I think you should read them now, and then we can discuss what is in them.” At his signal, Stefle brought a small casket forward.

Faramir took it and placed it on the bed beside them. Opening it, he found twenty sealed letters within and took out the one with the earliest date. As he finished each one, he gave it to Stefle who burned them in a brazier, making sure they were completely destroyed. There were names of all of the agents Boromir had used to infiltrate their father’s minions and friends, brief overviews of the information he had on his father’s activities dating back to Denethor’s teen years, well before either of them had been born. Each letter had been written to inform him of changes in the status of Boromir’s network and of actions their father had taken.

“I love you, Boromir,” Faramir said as he handed Stefle the last letter. Leaning into his brother’s arms, he closed his eyes and thought about what he had just read, integrating it with what he already knew. The brothers had always led others to believe that Faramir was in charge of the spy network they had set up, but he was only the titular head. The deception allowed Boromir to keep his appearance of ignorance when dealing with his father and others who couldn’t be trusted.

“I also have some letters that Éomer took from an orc courier,” Boromir told him. “I can’t read them but you might be able to.”

The letters were in the ‘black tongue’ of Mordor, which Faramir could barely make out. Unfortunately, they used unfamiliar names for landmarks and were simple military objective orders, nothing that would be of any real use. However, Saruman’s seal was on one of them, giving definite proof of his complicity in the orc attacks. “Do you think we could convince father to stop using the palantir if he knew Saruman wasn’t to be trusted?” Faramir asked.

“Have you ever known father to surrender any advantage?” Boromir answered with anger in his voice. “I’m sure the wizard would have a plausible explanation and he would believe it because he wanted to. He would destroy us all in his lust for power. I don’t trust him. I don’t want you to trust him; he is too dangerous. I’ll have these put away in case we need them in the future.”

“We should let Mithrandir know about Saruman’s defection,” Faramir stated.

“And what if he is in league with him?” Boromir asked. “I know it looks like he is innocent of duplicity, but they are of the same kind and he could damage us too badly. We will keep our secrets our own as long as possible.”


“Can you feel it?” Faramir asked as the tingly, nauseating feeling came over him.

“Yes,” Boromir hissed through clenched teeth, always more sensitive in his brother’s arms. “He does this every night?”

“Every night,” Faramir confirmed. The feeling intensified, making the hair stand up on their arms. They lay still, breathing quietly as if asleep and soon it weakened again. “He may focus on us again; he usually looks in here several times before he’s finished.”

“I’m tempted to give him something to stare at,” Boromir whispered. “Do you think he’d look away or watch?” he said as he ran his hands over his brother’s body.

“Who?” Faramir groaned melting into his brother’s touch, something he never got enough of. “I can only think of you.”


When first he looked into the room his sons shared, he felt an uncanny prickling as if they could see him as well. They appeared to be sleeping, but he couldn’t be sure. Deciding to check on other things for awhile, it was some time before he looked back in on them. There was much he wanted to see.

It was shocking to him when he brought his attention back to their room. Their blankets had been dislodged, leaving them fully exposed. He froze when he saw them, he always did. Nothing could be more beautiful than his two sons. They were so much alike and so very different. Boromir was aggressively penetrating his brother who lay open and welcoming beneath him.

All of Faramir’s attention was on his brother who paused in his thrusts to lean down and whisper in his ear. Suddenly, unbelievably, they both turned their heads and looked straight at him. There could be no mistake, they were both aware of being watched.

Covering the palantir, he went to a nearby chair and slumped into it. It was always draining to use the seeing stone, but his sons’ reaction had terrified him. If they could sense him watching them, it would make it dangerous and embarrassing to use it to see what they were doing. He’d suspected that Faramir was aware before, but now he felt exposed to both of them. Glaring at the covered stone, he contemplated his options.

There was something comforting and desirable in the closeness between his sons. Even in their everyday activities, they acted like two sides of a whole. Unfortunately, they were all too often at cross-purposes to his own goals. He didn’t want Boromir to share a Stewardship and a wife with his brother. He didn’t want Rohan raised to equal status with Gondor. Both his heir and his country deserved better than that in his eyes and he would do whatever was necessary to make it happen.

With a new determination, he strode from the room. There were numerous plans he had already in place. It was time for him to stop being soft on his sons. Saruman was right, he needed to make his own destiny.


Faramir was so lost in his brother’s attentions he barely noticed the change that announced his father watching them again. He groaned in almost agony as Boromir stopped moving and leaned close to his ear. “I don’t want him watching us, brother,” he said in a low growl. “I choose whom I share you with.”

So even though he didn’t think it was the best idea, they both looked to where the awareness seemed centered in the room. Then it was gone and they were alone with each other again. As if nothing had happened, Boromir continued making Faramir all but forget any interruptions.

Of course Stefle, Belgar and Nelis were well aware of what was going on as they quietly watched from the bed at the side of the room. Nelis, being the youngest, dressed quietly and left the room. This would change things and they would need to be prepared.


“There was a dead cat in the grain bin, my lord,” the embarrassed councilor said. “We believe that it got into some rat poison and died there. We would not have noticed it until spring when the supply was low enough to make it visible if the horses hadn’t fallen ill.”

“And why was someone using rat poison when there are cats in plenty around the stables?” Boromir asked in a low, angry voice.

“We’re not sure, my lord,” the man stuttered, becoming more frightened by the minute. “There seems to be some confusion as to who put the poison out and who ordered it. It is just ill fortune that it got into the grain reserved for your horses…”

“Out!” Boromir bellowed, cutting off anything else the man might have said. Rising swiftly to his feet, he threw the ceramic mug he’d been drinking from against the wall shattering it. “Now!” he bellowed at those few who hesitated at his earlier command, smashing his chair into the table, sending splintered wood, dishes and papers flying in all directions. The councilors ran to the door fighting each other to get through it first, fleeing the unexpected rampage of the Steward’s oldest son.

Denethor sat in shocked silence as Boromir smashed another chair against one of the columns that supported the roof. Drawing his sword, he hacked several tapestries into rags before throwing it to stick with a metallic thud into the wall. Striding to the dais at the end of the room, he mounted the steps to the king’s throne. Falling to his knees before it, he buried his head in his arms weeping in frustrated anger.

Kneeling at his side, Faramir wrapped his arms around him. “I’m sorry, brother,” he whispered.

“We need to have all the stables searched for any signs of poison,” Boromir finally spoke. “All of the grain bins, everything that could have been contaminated by this foolishness.”

“Don’t you think you’re getting carried away over a few horses?” Denethor asked caustically, finally recovering from his shock.

“A few horses,” Boromir growled, turning to look at his father in disbelief, the rage rising up in him again. Faramir caught at his arm when he began to rise, catching his attention. Looking into his brother’s eyes, Boromir took several deep breaths to calm himself. “I guess since warhorses are common enough I shouldn’t be concerned,” he said with sarcasm. “Especially the Mearas that my brother and I own that have been trained to heavy cavalry. Our enemy doesn’t have enough of an advantage yet, maybe we should just lay down all our weapons and fight bare-handed. At least we would get it over with quicker.”

Denethor bowed his head to concede the point, though he wasn’t entirely certain that Boromir’s anger was more because the horses had been gifted to them from Éomer. This was not the reaction he had expected from his heir. It was probably fortunate that the horses would all survive, though they would probably be useless for some time. “We will have everything checked, Boromir,” he said finally. “I think you need to show more self control though,” he admonished. “We have to set an example and I wouldn’t allow anyone else to get away with such behavior.”

The series of mishaps over the last week had driven Boromir to the edge of his patience. He had no doubt that his father was behind much of what was happening and was hoping that they could avoid open conflict. Apparently, his father was trying to take back some of his previous power. If he backed down now, he would be continually backing down in the future and that wasn’t going to happen.

“I’m just a simple soldier, father,” he said rising to his feet, his anger still clearly present. “I will do what is necessary to protect what is mine.” He started walking down the stairs towards his father.

Denethor suddenly became very aware that the only people in the room were his sons, Galmar, three of his sons’ servants, two of which were trained assassins, and him. Never before had he felt such helplessness and danger. It would be very easy for his sons to kill him and his servant and make excuses that would be snapped up readily by the nobility and the people. Boromir’s eyes were unreadable as he approached, and Denethor was unable to break away from his gaze.

“We need not argue, father,” Boromir said, taking the chair his brother had been sitting in earlier. “Both of us want what is best for Gondor and you are my father whom I love.” Leaning forward, he offered himself to his father’s arms.

It had been so long since he had felt any closeness to his son, the relief he felt was so great that Denethor clasped Boromir to his chest. Running his hands through his hair and kissing his brow, he forgave his outburst. “I understand, my son,” he told him softly. “We’ll make sure that something like this never happens again.” He was willing to promise anything to the golden prince who rested his head in his lap.

As Boromir turned his head to look at his brother, Faramir saw the anger that was still there. For the first time he realized that if their father hadn’t backed down, Boromir would have killed him without mercy. Quietly, he began making his way from the hall. It was always best to let his brother deal with Denethor in private.

The confrontation had happened so fast that Galmar had been completely taken by surprise. There were no doubts in his mind about Boromir’s intentions, but he knew from past experience that Denethor was blind when it came to his oldest son. Months of plotting and planning had just been destroyed, though he was glad that the Steward had not pushed Boromir into killing him. He knew that his own death would have been immediate and probably very painful. The look on Belgar’s face as he turned to follow Faramir only confirmed his suspicions.

Despite the palantir and all the aid that had been sent from Isengard and other sources, Boromir still held the power in Gondor. Denethor made all the decisions, but they were tempered by the wishes of his eldest son. It made his job so much harder. At this rate, Wormtongue would be able to turn Rohan over to Saruman well before he was able to deliver Gondor. He looked at the chief cause of his failure with undisguised malice, for once completely unaware of the watchful gaze of Stefle.

Boromir’s chief assassin and spy kept his features impassive and his eyes unfocused as he noted every action of his opponent. The time was soon coming when it would be more dangerous than not to keep Galmar alive. Stefle had waited long years for that time and planned to enjoy Galmar’s ending as soon as possible. He’d already discovered a direct link from him to the horses being poisoned. It would take very little more to convince Lord Boromir to get rid of the evil man. His outward expression showed nothing of how eagerly he awaited that day.

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16 Comment(s)

so good. more please

— cakresvari    Tuesday 11 July 2006, 9:53    #

So fabulous to see an update! Wonderful, as always.

— stillwell    Wednesday 20 September 2006, 22:44    #

Yea!! More updates soon please. I love it and can’t wait for more interaction between Aragorn and Boromir, and I assume Aragorn and Faramir in the future.

— cakresvari    Sunday 24 September 2006, 9:59    #

When I found this story few months ago I belived that it would never be finished. Which I thought was a pity cause it gripped me as not many stories did. I am extatic to see a new part. Welcome back!

— maeglina    Sunday 24 September 2006, 18:38    #

OMG I love this story!!!! I first read it at the Library of Moria and it is so friggen’ AWESOME!!!! It reminds me vaguely of Jacqueline Carey’s Kushiel’s series, which were very good books.
So Please I beg of you UPDATE!!!! My god this is so COOL!!!! I love all of it, after I read this story it was hard for me to get into other stories of this pairing just because none of them hit me like this one did. This story just has so much going on, it’s so cool, so please don’t abandon it!!! I’m given’ ya HUGE puppy dog eyes and offering lots of nakey Fara/Boro sexy cookies in return. ;^; Update Please!!!

— mokona    Thursday 6 September 2007, 4:10    #

I recently found this story and read all the parts as quickly as I could and then read thru them again. It is such a wonderfully crafted world you've woven here. It's Tolkien's world but with so many layers added to it. I am disheartened to see that the last part was posted back in 2006. I guess that means you never finished it and that SADDENS ME! Please, oh, please continue this….I need to know what you are going to do…

Hi - I'm not sure what makes you say this story has not been updated since 2006: a new chapter was added less than two weeks ago. At the moment, it's still on the top most page of our Recent Fiction.
To keep on top of the latest from Hel, join her Yahoo group - see link below these comments in the 'About the Author' block. And on a more general note: all stories at this archive are listed with a timestamp; either as 'x days ago' in chronological listings (Recent Additons, Recent Fiction), or simply a date anywhere else (listings per pairing, author). This timestamp refers not to when the story was first posted, but to the last (significant) update, eg, when a new chapter was added. In non-chronological listings (for exampleall stories by Hel, or all stories with Boromir), all stories that have been posted or updated within the last 30 days are marked with a red 'NEW' icon.
-the archivist

— cats_meeeow    Monday 23 June 2008, 15:53    #

I can only plead ignorance. I noticed that some comments appeared to be dated 2006 & figured that's when chpt 34 came out. I didn't go thru the recent fics to access the story or chapters…. Sorry. I'm very, very glad that it continues to be updated. Yeah! Thanks for setting me straight….

At this archive, comments always span the whole story - they're not split up by chapter. So whether you're looking at chapter 1 or 34, or at all chapters on one page, you'll always see the same list of comments - all the comments the story has accumulated over it's lifespan, with the oldest at the top, and the most recent at the bottom. Therefore, multi-chaptered stories always carry a warning saying comments may contain spoilers, as they may refer to something that happens in a later chapter.
- the archivist

— cats_meeeow    Wednesday 25 June 2008, 1:36    #

This is most excellent. Looking forward to more.

— Xyphe    Thursday 4 September 2008, 6:52    #

i have been reading this story for the last like two weeks coz seriously bordering on like war and peace with the epic-ness of this tale. but i absolutely adore it and i love the way you’ve weaved the characters lives and i totally cannot wait to find out what happens next.

magos    Friday 5 September 2008, 3:32    #

WooHoo an Update YAY!!!!!!! MORE PLEASE!!!! I LOVE THIS STORY!!!! Lpve Boro and Fara. Can’t wait for Fara to meet Estel in person. Not to mention Eowyn. WOOT this story kicks ASS!!! ;3 so please update more!

— mokona    Saturday 28 February 2009, 3:58    #

I really hope there’s going to be more… this story is brilliant. But somehow I don’t think there’s going to be any more updates… the last one was ages ago.
But if you read this: Please continue! I’m begging you…

— Gwydia    Sunday 29 August 2010, 11:31    #

I just found this, and there are really, no words to describe my epic love. I hope to see more eventually!

— Shadow Spires    Saturday 2 October 2010, 0:55    #

I admit that, though I would often read and reread this story, I didn’t hold much hope of it ever progressing past chapter 34. My shock is surpassed only by my utter delight to see a new chapter today. Thank you thank you thank you!

— LN Tora    Tuesday 15 May 2012, 1:50    #

Hel!!! If I had to pick one story I’ve always wanted to see finished, it is this one. In my opinion the most brilliant refashioning of the texts available. The amount of thought in the old religion, allegiance-fasting, realities of subversive politics — you have (re)created a world. I can’t wait to read on! Thank you!!

— Vanwa Hravani    Thursday 17 May 2012, 13:05    #

Are you going to make more? This is a good story.

— Evie    Tuesday 26 June 2012, 19:14    #

I had read this several years ago and i thought then how amazing this fic was and is, i’m unsure if you have any plans of ever continuing but know that its a great fic, and if you ever want someone to throw ideas with email me!I’ve greatly enjoyed this and will always come back to it

— minoki    Thursday 9 March 2017, 3:43    #

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