Faramir Fiction Archive

What the heart wants (NC-17)

Written by Enide

08 May 2007 | 1837 words

Pairing: Legolas/Faramir
Warning: Fluffy
Summary: Aragorn is a total bastard. Faramir to the rescue!
Disclaimer: Sure, they’re all mine, of course, I bought them cheap from the Tolkien estate after a night of really heavy drinking… You don’t believe me? Oh, damn…
Publication: Yes, but please ask first
Feedback: Yes please! Sus_secret@hotmail.com

Author’s note: If soppy romantic nonsense is the only thing that makes anyone give me any feedback, then soppy nonsense is what you’ll get ;o) But I really wish I could get something on my darker ones.

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It was the night before the royal wedding, and Gondor was sleeping heavily, preparing for the great events of the coming day. I seemed to be the only one still awake in all of the great castle, but still I crept carefully in the shadows, not wanting my intentions to be known. Or, at least not yet. My heart was beating so fast in my chest, a steady thumping that grew with every step closer to the Royal rooms; so much fear and hope and excitement burning in my veins. And love. The undeniable, cruel sense of love, making me smile and hurry my steps.

I fell down on the balcony outside his rooms from the window above, landing softly and soundlessly. There were no cries from any guards, and no sound from inside. I was still unnoticed.

As I opened the doors and crept inside, the rhythm of my heart was racing, and my fingers were shaking slightly as I opened up my tunic and pulled it off, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

In the huge bed, I could see his naked form; the black hair tussled from sleep, the pale moonlight on his bared chest where the sheets had fallen down. Aragorn, the king of my heart. Oh, how I desired him! I wanted nothing more than to lean over him, waking him with my kisses. But I could not do that. It would be too presumptuous. Instead, I crouched by the bed, for a short while only enjoying the feel of his warm breath on my face. I was so frightened now, but I did not let it show.

With a tender finger, I followed the line of his jaw, from his temple to his lips.

“Wake, Aragorn.” My words were barely whispers, but he heard them.

When he opened his eyes and instantly recognised me, the look in his eyes made my heart fall heavily, but I did not let it show. Instead I put on a brave smile.

“Legolas?” he asked still slightly confused.

I leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his unresponsive lips.

“It is night, I know. And you need your sleep. But it is also the last night before your wedding.”

He sat up in the bed, watching me with compassion and friendship. My heart fell further.

“I was hoping…my desires for you were never a secret. This is not the first night I have come to your rooms. But Aragorn, tomorrow you are to marry, and I was hoping that I could get at least this. One night. One memory.”

I reached out and took his hand, placing it on my chest over the heart, and letting my own hand land over his. My voice was almost breaking when I looked into his face, and he must have seen the despair written on mine, the desire and love I held for him.

“I do love you, Legolas. Like a friend, or a brother. But I cannot give you this.”

He must have felt my heart breaking under his hand for he slowly withdrew it. I know I felt it shatter.

“Please!” I had sworn to myself that I would not beg, yet I could do nothing to stop it.

“Legolas…” in the sigh, I heard it all. I managed to stand up, without falling over, and tore my eyes from him and the pity in his eyes. Somehow, I even found my tunic, although I did not bother to put it on. Tears were clouding my eyes as I walked towards the door, not daring to look back.

“Legolas.” The sound of his voice stopped me, but I could not turn around. Not now, not unless by some miracle, he would suddenly love me as I did him. I waited, held in suspension like swinging over a bottomless pit by a thread. He said no more.

The thread snapped.

How I came out into the corridors, I will never know. I wandered aimlessly through them, barely seeing where I walked for the tears streaming down my face. There was no one around, but even if there had been, I would not have bothered to hide from them. What did anyone else’s opinion matter now?

A heavy hand on my shoulder and a soft voice behind me made me turn.

The open, calm face of the newly crowned Prince of Ithilien looked back at me, but only for a second before he closed me in his arms, wetting his tunic with my tears. He didn’t say anything while my harsh crying slowly died out, and I was grateful for it. No words would have meant anything to me now.

When my tears had slowly dried or at least dried to trickles on my cheeks, he carefully put an arm over my shoulder and led me outside, to a small lonely garden and sat us down on a stone bench with his arm still around my shoulder.

“He rejected you again.” It was not a question but I nodded. How he always managed to find me at these awkward moments was more than I could understand, but his calm and tenderness was a rock to lean on.

“You would have thought I would have learned by now,” I said hoarsely. “But tomorrow, after the wedding…I have vowed not to try to come between them, and I will hold to that. I only wanted one single night, to remember him by.”

He was warm and strong next to me; I leaned against his shoulder for support and felt his beard on my forehead.

“What will you do now?” He didn’t look at me as he asked the question, but I felt a strange quavering in his voice.

“I will leave Gondor as soon as it is polite to do so. I do not expect I will ever return.”

“All because of him?” His voice was carefully empty of feelings and I started to worry slightly over what he was hiding.

“Yes. I suppose I should have understood by now.”

“The heart wants what it wants.” Faramir suddenly turned towards me and in his eyes there was a shimmer of sorrow I had never seen before. “Few men know this as well as I.”

Softly, his hand raised my face to meet his, and as his warm lips touched mine, the feelings flooded me. How could I have been so blind? I was so shocked that my lips must have been cold and unwelcome and my went stiff under his hands.

When he pulled back and let me go, there was a faint glow of red on his cheeks but a small spark of defiance in his eyes.

“If this is to be the last time I see you alone,” he said, raising up and taking a few steps as if to leave. “I wanted to have something to remember you by. You, I hope, will understand this…”

He was interrupted as I took his arm in a fast grip, swinging him around so that he again sat on the bench but now on the other side from me. I took his head between my hands, pulling him forward again. This time, it was he who was stunned but only for a short while. His lips parted under mine, our tongues met and danced, and the beard on his cheeks played over my face. The warmth of him surrounded me, shielded me in comfort, but it was more than that. I told him as much when I let go, panting a bit breathlessly.

“You would never be a substitute for him. Never fear that. Others may think you similar, but I know better. Now, I know better.”

His finger traced over my face, caressing me. There was wonder in his eyes, but also a small fear.

“I have never done this. You will have to teach me.”

I smiled at such innocent words from such a wise man.

“There is nothing to teach in these matters. Do what your heart tells you to.”

A strong hand slipped down my back, the palm callused from his sword yet still soft from books and learning. His lips followed, making me smile as he got up from the bench to kiss his way down my back, following my spine. My blood seemed to rise and fall like waves under his caress; I turned around to pull the tunic over the head of the crouching man. His brown hair got tussled and I smoothed it down, letting my hands run down his face. He kissed my fingers as they passed his mouth and steadied himself on the bench as I caressed his broad chest. His breath was warm on my naked skin.

I let him push me carefully down on the hard stone bench, rewarded by the attentions of his hands and tongue as he leaned over me. He seemed so young and yet so wise beyond his years; , his cheeks still blushing but his hands never hesitating. The touch of his warm skin underneath my hands made me yearn for more.

Eventually, we fell down from the uncomfortable bench and in to the sweetness of the grass, tumbling and playing like young colts set free in a meadow. We laughed and we panted, we taught and we learned and in the end, we loved like only newly found lovers do. As we fell asleep in one another’s arms, there was no thought of anyone else in my mind.

The love of the prince and the steward was soon the wonder of Gondor, and the marvel of our love and our openness to let it show was soon the talk of the court. To get some peace, we often retreated to Ithilien, the place that held both our hearts. One of these days, when we were about to leave Gondor, our horses packed and ready and my loved one already seated on his, I suddenly felt someone watching us.

I spun around, surprised, for it was early in the morning and we had hoped to slip away unnoticed.

Aragorn was standing on the stair that led up to the castle, and his eyes were resting upon us. In this early dawn, he looked lonely and there was a hint in his eyes betraying that not until it was to late had he realised what he had almost had – but lost.

Good.

I swung up on Arod, not looking back.

The end

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