Title: Walk No More in the Shadows - Chapter 9 of ?
Authors: Minx & Iris (greenrivervalley@gmail.com and 
margot.iris@gmail.com)
Rating: NC-17 overall 
Pairing: Faramir / Aragorn; mention of prior Denethor / Faramir
Warnings: References to predominantly incestuous rape; child abuse; 
violence. AU timeline.
Summary: This is a sequel to "One Last Time" which gave an account of the 
last time Denethor molested his younger son. This sequel deals with 
Faramir's recovery after the War.
Authors' Note: For background information and updates, see 
http://www.faramirfiction.com/fics/no_more_shadows.html

***

Aragorn rose from Faramir's room only after seeing the young man sleep off 
in Gandalf's arms after a light dinner. Faramir had looked so small and so 
scared, and the unhappiness that still remained in his eyes would not leave 
Aragorn's mind. He was afraid too that the younger man might have 
exhausted himself further with all the emotional turmoil he'd undergone and 
made a mental note to check on him,

"How is Pippin?" he had asked Gandalf wearily.

"Oh, he'll do fine."

"How did he know, Gandalf?"

Gandalf sighed, "He found Faramir retching after he had been with 
Denethor. I came across them shortly after and that was how I learnt of it."

"When?"

"Before he left for the final charge on Osgiliath."

"He raped him before sending him out to what was nearly his death?" 
Aragorn said aghast, and then promptly turned around and excused himself 
as he felt tears welling up. He went into his room and just stood there for a 
moment, leaning back against the closed door, taking a couple of deep 
breaths as he struggled to compose himself. Yet soon he had to admit defeat, 
and had to rush to his antechamber to disgorge much of what he'd eaten that 
evening.

***

Faramir spent much of his waking hours the next morning trying not to think 
of all that had happened, even though what had happened had been 
something he had dreaded ever so much. He had laboured for years to let 
none know what he was enduring and now in these few months, it seemed 
the secret was his no longer. He was no longer sure of what to feel of that, 
and especially of the fact that now the king too knew the truth about him 
now. 

He had not reacted as Faramir had thought he would. He had not pushed him 
away in disgust. He had not called him all those names that his father's voice 
threw back at him in his dreams. He acted instead much like Mithrandir did, 
offering comfort and kind words. Faramir was fast beginning to see why the 
wizard had insisted so that he confide in Elessar.

And Elessar thought of him as a dear friend... he had said so... despite all he 
knew of Faramir. It left a very pleasant and warm feeling inside Faramir, 
and his lips curled unconsciously in a shy smile, as he remembered how 
Aragorn had held his hands the evening prior. The strong fingers had 
clutched his trembling hands, and wiped the stray tears off his cheek with an 
affection Faramir had known from none but his brother.

But what if he had changed his mind overnight? What if he had slept on it 
and now realised how unworthy Faramir was of being a friend of one as 
noble as he? 

Faramir sighed, and tried to think of something else, anything else, as he 
rose and readied himself. 

Gandalf and Aragorn came by soon. He found himself nervously glancing at 
the king's face for any sign of displeasure, instead all he saw was a little 
weariness. Well, he would be weary he thought glumly. 

"Good morning," the king said softly, and smiled at him. Faramir smiled 
back a little warily, and returned the greeting softly, as his breakfast was 
brought in by one of the servants.

The huge pile of food on the plate reminded him of Pippin.

"Mithrandir," he said anxiously causing the wizard to give him a sharp but 
concerned glance, "How is Pippin?"

"He's fine," the wizard said gently, "Would you like to meet him after 
you've eaten?"

Faramir nodded, "Yes, please."

He picked his way through the breakfast, not feeling very hungry, and was 
promptly scolded gently by Mithrandir.

"You're too skinny," the wizard said, "And you've been skipping meals in 
your illness. And don't say you're not. That tunic hangs on you!" Faramir 
had the grace to blush a little at that, "Aragorn wants to take a look at you, 
by the way. We're afraid you might fall ill again."

"But, Mithrandir –"

"Hush, now! Let Aragorn look at you. And look at his shoulder will you, it's 
hurting him again, isn't it?"

Aragorn came and sat by the half-protesting young man and checked his 
temperature and pulse, well aware that some degree of wariness had 
returned to Faramir's demeanour,  "You're looking a lot better," he said, as 
he slowly slipped the tunic off the injured shoulder, and examined it, 
probing and squeezing gently, "It's still a little stiff isn't it?"

Faramir almost tensed at first when the tunic was slipped off and then felt 
absurd. Aragorn's fingers had the most comforting touch he realised 
suddenly.

"Just a little," he said softly.

Aragorn nodded, "Elrohir has some salves that could be useful. I'll ask him 
for them." He slipped the tunic back on and then sat back and looked at 
Faramir intently. 

Faramir thought he looked a little tired.

"So I can return to work soon?" he asked softly.

"Soon," Aragorn smiled gently, before realising he'd been staring at Faramir, 
"Not immediately. If you like, work from here a few days."

That brought some brightness to Faramir's face. Aragorn shook his head in 
wonder.

***

Aragorn watched from a balcony as Faramir sat on a garden bench with 
Pippin. Snatches of conversation drifted up to him, Pippin's voice at first 
subdued, and then progressively animated as Faramir deliberately made his 
own voice cheerful. By the time the two had risen from the bench the young 
hobbit was laughing aloud and back to his cheerful self.

They followed that routine the next couple of days, allowing Faramir to 
work from his room. It gave him the distraction from his thoughts that he 
craved. He walked in the gardens often too, alone at times and at other 
times, in Pippin or Merry's company. He was as yet too shy to seek out the 
others.

Aragorn was trying desperately to ensure he didn't let his unhappiness show 
through to Faramir. The younger man had enough burdens as it was. But he 
couldn't keep it away from the others, and especially not from Gandalf. The 
wizard finally cornered him on one of the balconies as he sat watching 
Faramir talking to the young hobbits in the garden below. The hobbits were 
munching their way through a small picnic basket Faramir had thoughtfully 
had the kitchen prepare for them.  

"You're unhappy for him," Gandalf spoke without preamble.

"Yes," Aragorn said heavily, "He didn't deserve it... not he... look at him, 
Gandalf! He is kind, generous, warm-hearted and selfless. He deserved none 
of what he went through! How could anyone hurt someone like him?"

"Well, we'll just have ensure he's never hurt again..." Gandalf said heavily, 
"You will do that for me won't you Aragorn?"

Aragorn looked back at him puzzled.

The wizard gazed back calmly, "I know I cannot stay here forever and 
reassure myself on that count but I know I can trust you to ensure he's never 
hurt again."

Aragorn nodded quietly.

"You are fond of him, aren't you, Gandalf?" he said after a while.

"Yes, I am. He was always a sweet little thing. He used to tag around behind 
me all the time whenever I visited and never stopped asking questions when 
he was young, and when he was older, he would just listen."

"Why didn't you take him away, Gandalf!" Aragorn burst out suddenly, 
"You knew he was unhappy!"

"If I had but an inkling of the true cause of his unhappiness..." Gandalf 
responded heavily, "But I never did... he hid it well. He was always 
outwardly happy and cheerful, interested and clever and witty... it wasn't 
often I met one like that and so young. He impressed me immensely. And 
with him around my work in Minas Tirith was so much easier, he was 
always so eager to help me. If I had but known, I would have brought him 
away as soon as I could... taken him to Lothlórien perhaps.... Left him under 
Celeborn's care... or Rivendell."

"I wish you had," Aragorn said quietly, "I would have loved to have known 
him earlier on."

Gandalf frowned suddenly, causing Aragorn to glance up at him surprised, 
"Do you remember... you came with me once while we were searching for 
Gollum...you would not enter the city but you asked about the young man 
who rode out with me..."

Aragorn remembered the glimpse he'd had from a distance, of a young man 
in a ranger outfit, raven-haired and grey eyed, hanging on to every word the 
old wizard said... Aragorn had thought then there was something about the 
boy, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Gandalf had dismissed 
him as merely a  young acquaintance, a curious child naturally interested in 
what a wizard could tell about the world outside the White City. Aragorn 
hadn't pressed the issue. He gasped now. That was Faramir. The thin, quiet, 
unhappy looking boy.

It did not take long after that for the guilt to set in. 

"I didn't think it wise for you two to meet, not at that time," Gandalf spoke 
softly as he saw the expression on Aragorn's face change. "Sometimes I 
think I could have discovered his secret, had I really wanted to. Maybe it is 
not so much that he hid it too deep, but rather that I did not want to see."

The wizard rubbed his brow and sighed dejectedly before he continued, "Oh 
I knew his father was harsh and thought he hit him occasionally, but Faramir 
never spoke of it and I didn't ask. You sensed there was something about 
him too, and I kept you apart, but I think not just because of the implications 
on your future as a king. I wonder if perhaps somewhere in my mind, I was 
too afraid of the implications of our knowing entirely what was wrong. Had 
I known, I would have been obliged to take action. It's easy enough to say I 
would have taken him away, though what would Denethor have done then? 
Perhaps, somehow, I felt it was better not to find out."

Aragorn frowned, he had never seen Gandalf like this. "My dear friend, I 
know you worry about Faramir a great deal, but I think that line of thought 
is neither constructive, nor healthy. Have you been getting enough sleep 
lately?"

Gandalf responded with a morose silence.
 
***

Faramir paced his room distractedly. He'd slept badly the previous night and 
so had spent the whole day trying to distract himself from the thought of 
those nightmares, first immersing himself in some paperwork and then 
seeking out Pippin who was back to his usual cheerful self now. But Pippin 
had had to leave and now he truly needed another distraction. It was a little 
difficult though, for Mithrandir had taken all his paperwork, telling him he 
looked tired.

"And how do you feel?" Aragorn's voice interrupted his thoughts. 

"Terrible," Faramir muttered.

"What happened?"

"Mithrandir took away my papers," Faramir said almost petulantly.

"Did he? Hmm... I wonder why!"

Faramir missed the gentle sarcasm entirely, "That's just what I asked him!"

"Perhaps because someone needs rest? You don't look like you have been 
sleeping well," Aragorn suggested quietly.

"I was not sleepy," Faramir mumbled.

"You are still not sleeping well, are you?" Aragorn said worriedly.

Faramir sighed. There were times when Elessar was more like Mithrandir 
than he'd ever know. Neither stopped fussing. And like the wizard, he 
thought he detected a note of guilt.

"I have ever been a light sleeper," he said flatly.

"Oh," Aragorn said a little dismayed. He could well guess why Faramir 
might sleep lightly.

"It's a good trait for a ranger," Faramir said suddenly.

"Yes," Aragorn agreed quietly.

"Is aught the matter, sire?" Faramir asked sharply, not missing Aragorn's 
listless tones, "You seem worried."

"Nay!" Aragorn replied too hurriedly, "'tis nothing."

Faramir looked quite unconvinced, so he continued, "I just – I just wish..." 
he rubbed the bridge of his nose absently. He'd been thinking of this awhile.

"I do wish – I could have helped you earlier, Faramir. I wish I had done 
something!"

Faramir looked at him puzzled, "But what could you have done? You were 
not even here. You couldn't have known. You couldn't even have known I 
existed."

"Perhaps I should have not waited so many years. If I had not waited so 
long, if I had come to Gondor earlier..."

"But there was reason behind your waiting," Faramir replied quietly, "I 
know Lord Elrond and Mithrandir advised you to wait. They would surely 
have said so with reason. They would not have advised you so if they did 
not feel it was better for all concerned that you bide your time, and..." he 
broke off here, unwilling to go on.

"There is nothing you could have done, then," he said firmly after a while.

Aragorn found he had no reply, and was extremely grateful when the gong 
for the evening meal sounded. As Aragorn got up to leave, he looked around 
the room, and at Faramir's almost unhappy face and spoke promptly, "Why 
don't you join me for supper, Faramir?"

The Steward looked up flustered, "Join you for supper?"

"Yes," Aragorn said amused.

"But-"

"I would like it if you did."

"But you eat with your friends, and –"

"And you are one of my friends. The others ask about you. Come, Faramir. 
You used to join us earlier, remember?"

He had, and had at first been almost shocked at the change from the 
formality in the days of his father. These meals had been like the meals 
Boromir had had in his camp - noisy and full of people yelling at each other 
and laughing irreverently. He had felt out of place and to his sleep-deprived, 
tired and distraught mind in those days, the boisterousness of the elves and 
the hobbits whenever they joined them had been almost painful, so he had 
stopped eating with them, asking the servants to give his apologies to the 
king, and later not even doing that.

He bit his lip uncertainly. He did need a distraction...

"Very well, sire, I shall join you," he said softly, but still uncertainly.

***

The twins, Legolas and Gimli were already there when they reached, talking 
surprisingly quietly.

"Estel!" one of the twins yelled out when he came, "You're late. We're 
hungry!"

"Quiet down, Elladan," Aragorn said almost imperiously, as he ushered 
Faramir in, "You'll give Faramir a fright."

"Faramir! How nice to see you here," Elladan said delightedly, and smiled 
so widely at him, that the steward took a step back and stared at his king in 
surprise. Aragorn simply shook his head and nudged him towards the chair 
next to his at the table.

'Sit," he said smiling.

"How are you now?" Elrohir asked him quietly from across the table, his 
grey eyes gazing so intently at the young man that he almost blushed.

"I'm well, thank you, my lord," he answered softly.

"We hoped we'd see more of you, but Gandalf said we'd be bothering you," 
Elladan pouted playfully.

"Yes," Elrohir added indignantly, "As if we'd do any such thing!"

Faramir was beginning to look overwhelmed by now so Aragorn gave the 
twins a stern look to quieten them, which they surprisingly caught on to, and 
even more surprisingly obeyed.

But it was Faramir who spoke up, "but you did come to see me," he said 
reddening slightly, "And I was very grateful. It was remiss of me not to 
thank you earlier for coming to see me. I – I'm afraid I was not very 
welcoming..."

"We had not meant to waken you that day," Legolas said apologetically 
from next to him.

Faramir reddened even more at that, "And I – forgive me Prince Legolas for 
what I said of you."

The elf's brow wrinkled in confusion, "what you said of me?" he asked 
haplessly, "I do not understand Faramir. You said nothing."

The twins hooted, "He called you Éowyn!"

Legolas reddened at that, "I'd already forgotten about it," he hurried to 
assure Faramir who was beginning to look a little distressed.

Aragorn stepped in promptly, "Faramir! You're not eating. Gandalf will 
have my hide if he hears you have not eaten."

Gimli helped by turning the conversation back to food and things remained 
quiet for the rest of the meal, the voices soft but full of humour, and often 
Aragorn caught Faramir's lips curving in a small smile at some remark or 
the other.

"He looks much better," Elrohir whispered to him from his other side, 
"You've looked after him well!"

"Not well enough," Aragorn whispered back sadly, "He's still not fully 
recovered."

"It's nice to see him smiling."

"He's going to do that a lot more often," Aragorn replied resolutely. Elrohir 
gave him a strange look and then smiled widely.

"That will be good," he said still grinning. Aragorn wondered what caused 
Elrohir's strange behaviour but at the serving maid had brought on the 
second course and he thought it more important to ensure Faramir got a 
large helping of that.
 


Title: Walk No More in the Shadows - Chapter 10 of ?
Authors: Minx & Iris (greenrivervalley@gmail.com and 
margot.iris@gmail.com)
Rating: NC-17 overall 
Pairing: Faramir / Aragorn; mention of prior Denethor / Faramir
Warnings: References to predominantly incestuous rape; child abuse; 
violence. AU timeline.
Summary: This is a sequel to "One Last Time" which gave an account of the 
last time Denethor molested his younger son. This sequel deals with 
Faramir's recovery after the War.
Authors’ Note: For background information and updates, see 
http://www.faramirfiction.com/fics/no_more_shadows.html

***

Aragorn thought the meal was quite a success. He wanted to invite Faramir 
to stay back and have some wine with him, but the younger man was 
beginning to look tired now, and he noticed him struggling to stifle a yawn 
as they began to rise.

“We shall see you at breakfast tomorrow,” Elladan was telling Faramir who 
blushed a little at the attention and nodded shyly.

It was difficult to refuse either of the twins when they set their minds to 
something, Aragorn thought grinning. Faramir caught his grin and returned 
a small smile of his own.

Faramir’s thoughts turned to Boromir as he walked down the long hallways, 
and of the numerous times they had spent together over the evening meals 
like this, laughing and talking quietly. For those few hours Faramir would 
forget all his troubles and simply revel in his brother’s company. 

If only Boromir were here… but if Boromir had learnt of the truth… he 
shuddered slightly, the relaxed feeling the dinner had left him, being 
replaced by a weary and troubled feeling.

***

Gandalf watched Faramir’s sleeping form quietly. The younger man had oft 
told him he needn’t stay by him each night but the wizard felt troubled 
leaving Faramir alone for he still slept badly. Faramir mumbled something 
and rolled over to one side, causing Gandalf to start. The younger man 
whimpered and curled up into himself.

“Will you for once stop acting like a delicate little girl and stand up 
straight!” he heard called after him as he made for the door out of his 
father’s study, indeed, hunched over and feeling miserable. 

Faramir turned to see his father slumped in his chair, lacing up his leggings. 
If anything, that sight made him want to curl up even more. Denethor 
smirked at him, shaking his head, “You bring it on yourself, you know that, 
with all your squirming. If only you would stay still; even a girl could do 
that!” 

Faramir cringed. He recognized this mood in his father, and it bode no good. 
The sooner he got out of here the better. He took a deep, steadying breath 
and straightened his back, but right away sparks of pain shot through his 
lower body and up his spine, causing him to whimper and double over once 
more. 

Denethor laughed at him again, “What is Boromir going to think when he 
sees you walking the halls like that? What is going to happen to all that 
fraternal love when he recognizes you for the filthy little whore you are?” 

The mocking look turned menacing, “He would probably never wish to 
speak to you again. Or wait… I’ll tell you what else I think might happen- I 
think he would like a sample.”

The air hitched in his lungs and he felt like the room had just got colder. 
Still all Faramir could do was listen to his father as he continued, “He’ll 
only need one look at you like that to work it out. I might as well call him 
over now and see if he’d like to take a turn like my friends did. How would 
you like that, hmm? Would you also wince and cry when your beloved 
brother takes you, or urge him on like the proper slut you are?”

“Wake up!” 

Faramir’s eyes flew open as he sat up gasping and crying, forcing Gandalf 
to move forward quickly.

“Oh Faramir!” Mithrandir’s voice was full of tenderness and Faramir fell 
broken into his outstretched arms, “Child, don’t cry!”

He sobbed. He couldn’t help it. The wizard’s hands around him were so 
comforting and his voice was so soothing.

“Was it another dream?” Gandalf asked softly when he had calmed down a 
little.

He couldn’t trust himself to speak so he just gave a small nod. His head 
nestled against the wizard’s chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head mutely.

Gandalf sighed and pulled the young steward closer in his arms, “Alright 
then. I won’t press you.”

They sat that way awhile, Faramir ensconced in the worried wizard’s arms.

Then Faramir spoke, “How long?” he said in a voice full of soft anguish.

“What, young one?” Gandalf asked compassionately.

“How long will I be haunted by my memories, Mithrandir?” he spoke 
bitterly, the tears starting up again.

“I do not know, child, but you know, if you were to open up a little more 
about this, it might not trouble you as much in your sleep,” he suggested. In 
the last few days as Faramir had gradually opened up a little more to the 
others, Aragorn and he had tried a few times to get him to speak of what he 
had gone through. The younger man had tried refusing but then given in and 
tried to speak. However, he would still get overwhelmed sooner or later and 
refuse to say more. All they knew was that it was a frequent occurrence any 
time Faramir visited Minas Tirith, more so if Boromir was not also there as 
was usually the case. It had pained Gandalf to think of the young man 
coming home on his few short trips to that reception. More so when Faramir 
had just the day before inadvertently muttered, “I used to ache to return to 
Ithilien even thought it hurt so much to ride at times.”

“I don’t wish to talk about it,” he said now, repeating a line Gandalf had 
heard many times.

After a brief while, he shifted and Gandalf loosened his embrace. The young 
man stayed in his arms but turned to look towards him.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“For what?”

“For being with me each night. I know you lose sleep over it, and I wish you 
wouldn’t but I am thankful nevertheless.”

“It is but little I do for you,” Gandalf said tiredly; touching Faramir’s cheek 
lightly, “I wish I could do so much more for you.”

“Y-you don’t have to…”

“I do. You have ever called me your friend and I have ever seen you as one 
and a dear one at that, but I have done little to show for it. If I had paid more 
attention to you, if I had had but one inkling these years of what you were 
truly going through…”

“Please, Mithrandir,” Faramir pleaded, “Do not say that. There is nothing 
you could have done save fret and worry as you do now. You have done so 
much for all of us… you have helped free us from the darkness… and you 
help me so much now! How can you say such things?”

Gandalf tightened his arms around the younger man, “I help you but little. 
You still suffer I can see it,’ he said, “But I will see you recover, as will 
Aragorn!”

Faramir didn’t reply but stayed in Gandalf’s arms letting the wizard’s voice 
act as a soothing balm to his distraught mind, wondering if he were not 
letting himself get too used to this comfort.

Gandalf sighed when Faramir finally fell back into an exhausted sleep. He’d 
known the younger man hadn’t recovered fully despite his insistence to 
return to his duties. His illness coming on top of the not too distant injuries 
in war and the shock of losing both his brother and his father had ensured 
Faramir had much to recover from.

***

Faramir watched bemused as Elladan, Elrohir, Legolas and Gimli all spoke 
at once to Aragorn in his study.

“We found the finest ever wine in the second circle. You must come with us 
next time.”

“And the tavern was so unique!” Gimli was saying, “Such fine walls, very 
old stonework.”

“And the young er-ladies,” Elladan smirked.

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at that, “In the second circle? Fine wine?”

“Oh, very well!” Elrohir huffed, “so it is not just a tavern and they do 
indulge in ‘other’ activities but the wine is indeed fine.”

Faramir almost smiled. The taverns in the second circle were less taverns 
and more brothels. Boromir had taken him there once. His smile faltered as 
he remembered his father’s reaction to his rather woeful first attempt with a 
woman. He didn’t realise he was being spoken to until he heard his name 
called out a little loudly.

“Y-yes?” he stuttered looking dully at Legolas who was asking him 
something.

“I said which is the best of these ‘taverns’?” Legolas asked calmly.

“I – I don’t know,” he said feeling rather inadequate when five pairs of eyes 
broed into him.

“But-” Elrohir started.

“Surely –”

Aragorn cut in swiftly, “I should have thought you wouldn’t. Gondor 
borrowed from Khand the fine practise of having courtesans for the sons of 
nobility. It caused less scandal and gossip.”

“Yes,” Faramir said quietly, though he didn’t tell Aragorn that in his father’s 
eyes he had never qualified as worthy enough for the attentions of one. The 
few other experiences he had had with women had been in other brothels – 
in Pelargir, once and in Dol Amroth another time, and while not as 
disastrous as his first attempt, he’d known in his oft tense state he wasn’t a 
flying success either.

“And are all sons of nobility as shy as you around women?” Elrohir asked 
smiling gently.

Faramir reddened at that, “I’m not,” he began protesting.

Elladan joined in, “Yes, we heard Éowyn remonstrating you at your refusal 
to erm – display affection publicly.”

“I-” Faramir blushed even deeper, as he remembered that day the twins were 
talking about. He had felt Éowyn’s lips on his and had kissed her back 
dutifully though his mind had been on the pile of paperwork on his table, but 
when she’d loosened her collar and then slipped her hands under his shirt 
and tried to work them past the waistband of his trousers, he had panicked. 
He had not wanted to be found like that, what would Éomer have said? Or 
Elessar? And what if Éowyn realised he was so inexperienced in pleasing 
women… she would leave him.

Aragorn frowned at this line of conversation. He remembered Elrohir’s 
casual remark many weeks ago that the young Steward seemed to tie 
himself in knots when in close contact with women, and that Éowyn seemed 
to be losing patience with his restraint.

*He couldn’t have had much time for chasing skirts… not with Denethor the 
way he was… not with him spending most of his time at home being hurt in 
such a fashion…*

“You can’t expect him to have kissed Éowyn with the two of you goggling 
at them,” Legolas said smartly, and got an apple thrown on his head by 
Elrohir.

A fruit fight ensued and so Aragorn shooed them all away, and then settled 
thankfully back to work in peace. 

The light drizzle of that morning had given way to glorious sunshine when 
Aragorn glanced up some hours later. Faramir had wandered over to the 
window. He looked tired and tensed. 

*How did he ever survive it? I’m glad he did, but dear Eru, how did he?*

He was still lost in thought when Faramir turned from the window and 
looked to him. The young steward didn’t miss the pensiveness in his face.

“What is the matter?” he asked anxiously.

Aragorn put down the papers he’d been pretending to read, wondering what 
to say. There were so many things…

“He hurt you oft times, didn’t he?” he said quietly. 

Faramir didn’t miss the note of unhappiness in his voice. He sighed silently 
and looked out of the window again. He wanted nothing more than to forget, 
to blight out the past and what he’d had to go through. He wished he didn’t 
have to talk about it. Why did Aragorn and Mithrandir always try to remind 
him? They kept pushing him to speak of all that had happened but truth be 
told, he didn’t even want to remember it. And it only worried Aragorn 
further. 

He hurried to allay Aragorn’s worry, “It wasn’t that bad, really; I learned to 
live with it.”

It had the opposite effect. Aragorn rose and coming towards him, turned him 
around so they were facing each other.

“Not that bad! But he hurt you! You told us you couldn’t even ride at 
times!" The distress in Aragorn’s voice was clear, and his eyes seemed to be 
filling up, worrying Faramir.

“Oh, but that was my own fault,” he said hurriedly, again, “If only I had 
cooperated more, controlled myself better and hadn’t winced as much, there 
wouldn’t have been that much pain or injury.”

Aragorn’s grip on his shoulders tightened and Faramir nearly winced.

"Is that what he told you?” The king had to struggle to keep from raising his 
voice, “That the pain was your own fault? Oh Faramir, surely you can’t 
believe that still?” he felt his voice breaking there.

Faramir turned his head away distressed. It had been his fault hadn’t it? 
Denethor had said so each time, Faramir had been forced to cry out. His 
father had hated to hear his cries, and berated him often, and simply hurt 
him even more and deliberately so, so that Faramir had learnt with time to 
bear it in stoic silence.

Aragorn hooked a finger under the unhappy man’s chin and forced him to 
look up. To Faramir’s shock, the king’s face was streaked with tears.

“It was not your fault,” the king said quietly, “Never think so. It pained you 
because a grievous hurt was inflicted on you.”

He didn’t want to think about it. About any of it. Of the constant fear he’d 
lived in, of the pain he’d felt so often, of the worry that anyone would find 
out. His eyes welled up.

“Please don’t cry, Faramir. It’s all over now. I’ll never let anyone hurt you 
ever again,” Aragorn whispered softly and pulled him close. 

Faramir melted against his king’s chest. A small voice at the back of his 
head reminded him he shouldn’t act so craven in front of Aragorn; what 
would he think of him, how long could he abuse the king’s kindness, how 
long until he would be pushed away in disgust? 

But Aragorn’s embrace was so warm, so comforting, Faramir couldn’t bring 
himself to pull away. With his head resting on Aragorn’s shoulder, his ear 
against Aragorn’s chest, he could hear his heart beat, feel as much as hear 
his voice whenever Aragorn spoke, smell that lovely musky, herby smell 
that was so typically Aragorn continuously rather than catch the occasional 
lucky whiff. 

All these wonderful, intimate experiences on their own would do to silence 
any voice for a time at least, Faramir reasoned with himself, well aware he 
was clinging to his king like a forlorn child, but together they were all 
consuming, making him want to hang on just that little bit longer.

What had got into him? Why now? Why Aragorn? He had never been this 
clinging, not with Gandalf during the past weeks, or even with Boromir 
when they were children. What must Elessar think of him?

Taking his cue from Faramir’s tensing shoulders, Aragorn shifted his gaze 
to the window and sighed, “Again, it is far too nice a day to spend indoors. 
Would you care to join me for lunch in the gardens?”

They had a quiet lunch under the shade of a large tree. Faramir had gaped at 
the assortment of foods that had been packed for just the two of them. There 
was fruit for dessert, large, luscious apples from Lossarnach. Aragorn took 
out his knife and began cutting one, taking out a large piece and handing it 
to Faramir smiling.

“Eat,” he said around his own mouth full of apple when Faramir refused the 
slice. “Go on,” he insisted, holding the piece up to Faramir’s lips now. 
Faramir started at the gesture and hastily grabbed the piece to cover up his 
surprise.

“This is a beautiful garden,” Aragorn said calmly, digging out another apple.

Faramir nodded quietly, anxious to start a new topic of conversation, “Yes, I 
have come here often. It is what I remember of my mother. She used to walk 
with me and Boromir here and sing to us.”

It was the only memory he had of his mother. Boromir had said she was 
beautiful and that their father had loved her very much and that was why he 
had fallen into a gloom after she had passed on.

“Really?” Aragorn was saying, smiling, “That must have been sweet 
indeed!”

“Yes it was,” Faramir said quietly.

“Indeed. You must have looked a beautiful family surrounded here by these 
flowers and trees…”

“Sire,” Faramir broached immediately, “About that –”

“What?”

Your… family… I mean, about your marriage… We have to make plans… 
you’ll have a family soon, and-”

“A family,” Aragorn said softly, his eye shining a little.

“As will you,” he said smiling at Faramir whose face suddenly became 
inscrutable as he thought of Éowyn’s anger when he had refused to bed over 
before their marriage.

“Faramir,” Aragorn’s voice was soft and gentle, “what is it my friend? You 
seem worried.”

“I-I’m fine,” he said dully.

Aragorn watched him for a few moments and then decided to plunge right 
in.

“Faramir?”

“Yes, sire?”

“You have – have you lain with others, Faramir?” he asked.

The younger man stared up at him his face looking hard, “If you mean have 
I lain with a woman, yes I have. I’m not so – so –”

He faltered miserably.

“I didn’t mean that,” Aragorn was saying alarmed, “I just-”

“How could I do more than kiss her before we are wed?” Faramir said, “She 
is sister to a king!”


***

Faramir watched as Aragorn played a game of chess with Elladan, his eyes 
taking in every single little detail about the king as he sat hunched over the 
table, the way his brow furrowed while thinking, the way the long fingers 
curled around a pipe, the way he’d lean back once his turn was over. The 
evening light played on the king’s hair and somehow added to the entire 
dignity of his person.  

They were sitting in one of the high rooms of the citadel relaxing after an 
early supper, a habit that the elves had brought with them, for Faramir was 
more used to a late, light supper and then bed. The elves preferred to spend 
some time after their meals talking and he’d been told, in Rivendell, there 
would be music and poetry and much merriment. Here they simply sat in 
this large room, with a nice view and either sang or read or played an 
instrument as Elrohir was doing quietly, humming to himself or like Legolas 
and Gimli bickered over something or the other. Aragorn had tugged 
Faramir along this evening. The younger man had been reluctant at first to 
intrude among friends, but Aragorn had insisted and as was becoming 
increasingly usual, Faramir found it difficult to refuse this man he had come 
to like so much. 

Aragorn felt the eyes linger on him and looked up towards the other end of 
the large sofa he occupied. Catching his Steward’s contemplative gaze he 
smiled in return inducing a shy smile from Faramir who then proceeded to 
turn his attention back to the papers he’d been reading… upside down… 
Aragorn noted in amusement. He was glad Faramir had joined them here. It 
had struck him greatly when Faramir on being invited had simply said 
diffidently that he wouldn’t want to disturb his evening with his friends.

“You won’t” Aragorn had assured him, “And anyway you are a dear friend 
to all of us now!”

It was Gandalf’s urging and the promise that he could work there that had 
induced Faramir finally to come up to this large airy room and join them. 
The others had been surprised but delighted to see him there, and he’d 
blushed a little at their attention. Aragorn had helped him onto a large 
comfortable sofa and joined Elladan at the game they had left off the 
previous day. 

Faramir’s gaze made Aragorn feel strange inside, it gave him a nice, warm 
feeling. The grey eyes had been frank and appraising and undoubtedly 
admiring.

Faramir’s gaze was back to the papers now, which he’d hurriedly 
straightened, a faint tinge of red marking the still wan cheeks. Aragorn 
smiled and returned his attention to the game. After a while, Faramir moved 
a little closer, seemingly watching the game. Aragorn found his attention on 
the game waning as he kept contemplating whether or not to look up and 
catch Faramir’s eye. Legolas and Gimli continued arguing while Elrohir 
continued playing his lute.

“Estel, I think your new chick is tired,” Elrohir said after a while.

Aragorn stared up from the game, confused, and realised the young steward 
lay slouched into the sofa his eyes closed. The next move had been his but it 
was left completely forgotten as he darted towards the sleeping man in 
concern. Whatever had happened to him? He hoped he hadn’t fallen ill 
again. He should have let him rest, not dragged him here where he’d have to 
endure this ever noisy bunch of elves and dwarf. 

“Faramir,” he whispered gently. The younger man mumbled something and 
slouched forward, leaning closer towards Aragorn, so that the king suddenly 
found himself pulling him into his arms. He smiled indulgently when he 
realised Faramir was just sleeping. It seemed a shame to wake him, he 
decided.

“He’s just sleeping,” he said with a sigh of relief to no one in particular and 
stroked Faramir’s cheek gently, “Poor thing, he must have been quite tired.”

“To bed with you, young one,” he said softly and collecting Faramir into his 
arms, rose from the seat, grunting a little as he did so. Faramir mumbled 
something incoherent again and snuggled into his hold.

The twins watched with increasing interest as their foster brother carefully 
adjusted his hold as though holding something extremely precious. They 
nudged each other and grinned but Aragorn didn’t notice their little interplay 
at all or the equally interested looks Legolas and Gimli gave him, having 
stopped arguing briefly.

“Oh dear, you’re still so thin, I can easily carry you...” he murmured softly 
as he carried Faramir out of the room, towards his chambers, his friends 
watching on.

“Well!” Elladan said grinning, “Poor Faramir. Aragorn’s decided to look 
after him!”

“I think,” Elrohir said calmly, “He could do with it. And I’m sure he won’t 
mind. I don’t think Aragorn will return to that game, Elladan. Should we all 
go out to the city do you think?”

Aragorn deposited the younger man on his bed as gently as he could but the 
movement was still enough to awaken Faramir a little.

“Sire,” he whispered softly.

“Yes, … now rest.”

“I – wasn’t I in the hall with....”

“Yes, but you fell asleep.”

“Oh!” Faramir’s eyes widened, and his face coloured, “I apologise I... your 
friends must think me so rude!”

“Hush! Why do you apologise? Anyone would fall asleep if that elf and 
dwarf quarrelled again. I think you’re very brave to actually do so,” he joked 
as he pulled the blankets up around the slender figure.

Faramir opened his mouth to respond but Aragorn forestalled him, “Hush, 
anyway it is more my error. I should be the one to apologise. I should have 
realised you would be tired and it’s enough for even a healthy man to 
withstand the strain of the twins as well as those two!”

“No, no,” Faramir murmured half-sleepily, “I’m glad you insisted I come. It 
was very enjoyable. I’m just a little tired that’s all. You mustn’t ever say 
such things about yourself,” he continued mumbling, “You’re always so 
nice and considerate, and you’re always good to me… I don’t even thank 
you for that… I’m so glad you’re the king. Gondor couldn’t ask for a better 
king. You’re so kind and wonderful.”

Aragorn bit his lip at the speech and suddenly on impulse bent and kissed 
Faramir on the forehead.

“Good night my friend.”

Faramir smiled in his half-asleep state as the kiss permeated through his 
brain.

He was still smiling softly when Gandalf came by to watch over him.


Title: Walk No More in the Shadows - Chapter 11 of ?
Authors: Minx & Iris (greenrivervalley@gmail.com and 
margot.iris@gmail.com)
Rating: NC-17 overall 
Pairing: Faramir / Aragorn; mention of prior Denethor / Faramir
Warnings: References to predominantly incestuous rape; child abuse; 
violence. AU timeline.
Summary: This is a sequel to "One Last Time" which gave an account of 
the last time Denethor molested his younger son. This sequel deals with 
Faramir's recovery after the War.

For previous chapters, background information and updates, see 
http://www.faramirfiction.com/fics/no_more_shadows.html

***

Faramir's routine was slowly falling back in place. He was still not 
allowed to do the entire gamut of work he'd been handling prior to his 
illness though. Aragorn and Gandalf let him do his paperwork from his 
room now and also allowed him to sit in on a few meetings in the 
mornings. However, while his physical health slowly returned, the 
nightmares he suffered remained. While not always as intense, there were 
nevertheless times when he would again wake up screaming and sob 
disconsolately in Gandalf's arms, which convinced the wizard to continue 
spending his nights in the chair next to the Steward's bed.

It didn't take Faramir long however to start worrying over Gandalf, whom 
he was quite sure couldn't possibly withstand the strain of spending each 
night with him. Anyone could see he was beginning to look tired from the 
effort. 

He thought over it and soon made up is mind. When Gandalf came to his 
chambers one evening he felt he had readied himself to sleep alone.

"Mithrandir," he greeted him.

"Aren't you in bed yet?"

"I was just about to lie down."

"Good lad," Gandalf said affectionately.

"And I think you should be in bed too, Mithrandir," Faramir told him, 
"You look very tired and I know you've been forgoing sleep on my 
account for some days now."
"Don't you bother yourself about that now," said Gandalf.

"Why not?" Faramir retorted, "You've been spending each night on that 
chair, and I know you can't be sleeping comfortably there, if you get any 
sleep at all. I will not have you trouble yourself so because of me."

"Well, I will not have you suffer from nightmares alone as yet!"

"I can handle them myself; I can't always have someone around to help 
me, can I? It's about time I learnt to cope on my own!"

"No, you won't have someone to help you always," Gandalf agreed, "But it 
is early yet to leave you to cope alone. So why don't you lie down now and 
stop worrying about me, please?"

"No," Faramir stated adamantly and crossed his arms over his chest.

Gandalf sighed in annoyance, "Now, look here," he began when a small 
cough from the doorway interrupted him.

"I couldn't help but overhear," Aragorn began.

"Of course you couldn't!" Gandalf replied sarcastically.

"It's obvious you two aren't going to reach an agreement on this issue, so I 
have a proposition," Aragorn continued, ignoring Gandalf and giving 
Faramir a warm smile that evoked a small smile from that young man in 
return.

"Yes?" Gandalf snapped.

"You, Gandalf, should go get some sleep in your bed," Aragorn said and 
immediately put up his hand to forestall Gandalf's possibly acerbic 
response, "He's right, you know… you do look tired! Don't worry about 
Faramir. I'll stay with him tonight."

Gandalf bit back the retort on the tip of his tongue and nodded in 
agreement, smiling as he did so, "Yes, that's a good idea, now. I think that 
should be fine."

"No," Faramir stated.

Gandalf ignored him and continued, "We can take turns from now on. 
That's a very good idea."

"No!" Faramir repeated more forcefully.

"What?" Aragorn inquired politely.

"You're the king! You can't stay awake all night because of me. It's bad 
enough Mithrandir had to, but I can't trouble you too!"

"Nonsense!" Aragorn and Gandalf both snapped out at once.

"No, you mustn't," Faramir insisted, "I can handle it myself. It's just 
nightmares! I'm used to them. They aren't really that bad. You have so 
much to do! How can you attend council when you've been up most of the 
night?"

"No, it's always my good dreams that make me wake up in the night 
crying!" Gandalf muttered to Faramir's mortification.

"Faramir," Aragorn said patiently, grasping the younger man lightly by his 
shoulders, absentmindedly feeling the still thin contours, "I'm a ranger! I 
can do with very little sleep. I've done that for most of my life now! I'll be 
able to catch up with enough sleep, even if I have to stay the night with 
you. And, besides I do recollect you telling Pippin this evening that you 
were feeling tired."

Faramir glanced up guiltily at that. He hadn't thought anyone had 
overheard him.

"You aren't fully recovered yet," Aragorn was continuing, "You need 
proper sleep!"

"Indeed!" Gandalf said with a tone of finality, and headed for the door, 
"I'll leave you to deal with his stubbornness, Aragorn. Good night both of 
you!"

"Alright, then I'll leave the choice to you," Aragorn began in a tone that 
suggested Faramir would in fact have little choice in the matter, "I can 
either watch you from the chair as Gandalf did, or if you are worried about 
me losing sleep that way, I can join you in the bed. I'm used to sleeping in 
the wild and will easily wake up as soon as you give only the slightest hint 
of a nightmare."

Against better knowledge, Faramir decided to give it one last try, "There 
really is no need for you to lose sleep over this. I can manage very well on 
my own."

Choosing to ignore the second part of Faramir's statement, Aragorn sat 
down on the bed to pull of his boots. When he looked up to undo the collar 
of his tunic, he found Faramir still frowning at him. Not wanting to argue 
any further, he simply smiled and asked, "The bed it is then. Do you have 
a nightshirt I could borrow?"

Once he'd changed into the nightshirt Faramir had quietly but 
disapprovingly lent him, Aragorn nudged the steward back against the 
pillows, "There now, lie down comfortably. It may be a little snug, but 
compared to the accommodations at Henneth Annûn, this is still basking 
in luxury, is it not?"

Faramir looked anything but comfortable so Aragorn did what he would 
usually have done and gently pulled him into his arms, intending to give 
him some comfort through his embrace. But Faramir tensed slightly, 
clearly feeling awkward at the sudden close contact. Aragorn loosened his 
embrace a little.

"Sleep now," he suggested gently, drawing relaxing circles on Faramir's 
back, "You look very tired." 

Faramir nodded tentatively and closed his eyes. The arms around him felt 
awkward initially but at the same time he felt protected and calm.

Aragorn watched as he fell asleep, his head against his chest. He stroked 
the sweat-damped locks of hair gently, and smiled as Faramir murmured 
approvingly at his touch. Carefully, so as to not awake the sleeping man, 
he put out the lamp by his bedside.

Faramir snuggled closer. Aragorn sighed in contentment and let his eyes 
close.

"Sweet dreams," he murmured. 

Faramir's dreams were confusing. He lay in the darkness, his ears straining 
to hear any sound at all. It was time, he knew. The door would creak open, 
a single thread of light would fall on him, and yet another face would be 
leering at him in the lantern's glow, even as he would whimper in pain. 
And yet, he felt as though all was not lost. He felt safe, somehow, and he 
could not understand why. Then the door creaked open, and the light fell 
on him, forcing him to sit up with a cry.

Aragorn was nearly asleep when he heard the soft knock, and then 
Gandalf pushed the creaking door open, and hissed out Faramir's name. 
The wizard pushed his head in and held up a lamp. Aragorn glanced up, 
even as Faramir moved restlessly releasing a soft cry.

Faramir tried to open his sleep-weary eyes. All was dark around him, save 
for the lamp at the door. They were back. He didn't know which one, but 
he did know his already abused body could tolerate little more. 

"Not again, please!"

"Hush," Aragorn whispered pulling him back in his arms, "It's all right, go 
back to sleep," he kept murmuring, noting in the dim light from outside 
that Faramir hadn't awoken fully. Stroking his hair softly, he glanced up at 
Gandalf, still at the door, and turned the full force of his glare on him.

"You'll wake him," he whispered angrily, and then to a restlessly 
murmuring Faramir, "It's alright, I'm here."

"I wanted to see how he was doing," Gandalf said stepping inside, "He 
looked so tired earlier."

"He was tired," Aragorn conceded, "But he was doing quite well till you 
decided to scare him so!"

"Aragorn?" Faramir's voice was weak and confused and he was clutching 
at Aragorn's tunic fervently.

"Aragorn," he repeated, burying his head against the king's chest.

"I'm here," Aragorn reassured him again, at the same time feeling rather 
pleased Faramir had called him by his name as he'd so often requested.

Gently he rubbed his hand in circles over Faramir's back, until he calmed 
down somewhat.

Gandalf slipped out quietly unwilling to disturb either man. A last look 
over his shoulder showed him Aragorn kissing Faramir on his head, the 
younger man secure in his arms now. Gandalf smiled broadly, as he 
walked down the darkened hallway.

***

Faramir came awake slowly the next morning feeling warm and strangely 
languorous. He stretched out yawning and then realised he was in 
someone's arms... Aragorn's arms...? He was still trying to process the 
information, as the recollection of Aragorn's offer to stay the night 
returned to him. He shifted uneasily and but then froze in panic as he felt 
the hardness against his backside. 

His heart racing, he scrambled away in haste, slipping out of the 
comforting embrace, and waking Aragorn, who yawned widely and stared 
up at Faramir, confused at first and then smiled.

"Good morning," he said, taking in the sight of the frantic looking young 
man, hair tousled from sleep, and the nightshirt slipping off a shoulder, 
"Did you sleep well?"

"I – I – yes... thank you. I did... I'll leave now, shall I? You – you'll need.... 
I shan't be in the way...," Faramir stuttered uneasily, unable to keep his 
eyes from straying towards the tell-tale bulge under Aragorn's nightshirt.

After that, Aragorn didn't have trouble interpreting what Faramir meant. A 
part of him felt angry with himself for he knew he would have scared 
Faramir, but this wasn't the time to make Faramir panic further. He gave a 
small self-conscious laugh, "Oh dear, don't be silly Faramir, it's far too 
early! Now come back to bed. It's not even light outside."

Faramir stared at him uncertainly, and Aragorn felt like kicking himself. 
Of all the things to happen… if Gandalf learnt, Aragorn wouldn't hear the 
end of it.

Aragorn smiled again, and deliberately looked down at himself, before 
glancing up at Faramir, "I'm sorry if I have scared you. Believe me when I 
say I would never do anything to hurt you. But you know it's natural for a 
man to wake up in the morning like this often. It's nothing to be afraid of. 
You do trust me, don't you? It happens to all of us."

He paused to allow Faramir to collect his thoughts. The younger man still 
looked a little alarmed. He was biting his lower lip now.

"It doesn't mean anything. Although I must admit I did quite like the 
feeling of holding you in my arms," he continued guiltily, "But that's about 
all. Come now, you can rest some more, please? I'd hate to think I've kept 
you from your sleep."

Faramir stopped biting at his lower lip and moved forward slowly. 
Aragorn wouldn't hurt him of course! He should know that! 

He sat down gingerly at the edge of the bed. Aragorn smiled reassuringly 
again. Faramir tried to smile back but his eyes were drawn again to 
Aragorn's groin. He was at least partly responsible for that, he thought. 
And Aragorn did say he should get back into bed; what else could he mean 
by that?

Surely, the least he could do would be to help him out.  After all, Aragorn 
had done so much to help him. Naturally, the king was too noble to ask 
outright, and he would certainly never force – but surely it's what he 
wanted, what they all wanted?

And he wasn't going to hurt him, he knew that. Not like Denethor… or the 
others. But it wouldn't be fair to his king to leave him like that...

Before Aragorn could realise what had happened, Faramir had darted 
forward, "I – I could help," he stuttered and pushing up the nightshirt took 
Aragorn in his mouth, immediately swallowing him almost completely 
down. 

"Faramir!" Aragorn almost yelped in surprise as the wetness surrounded 
his admittedly aching need, "Faramir, you don't have to do that! You 
really - stop now!" he started off only to gasp as Faramir's tongue began to 
skilfully work around him.

Aragorn could only moan as Faramir continued. He came to completion 
soon letting out a shaky sigh as a warmth infused him. It had been a long 
time, he realised dimly... he'd forgotten how good it felt and Faramir was 
really quite incredible! Faramir was sitting up now, wiping his mouth with 
the back of his hand, staring at him anxiously.

"Oh, Faramir," Aragorn murmured sighing, "Thank you," he said rather 
inadequately. 

But it seemed to reassure the Steward who returned a small smile and 
moved back to let him rise. Aragorn however reached for Faramir and 
gently tugged him down, running his hands along the lithe figure. 
Faramir's eyes widened a little, as the hands wandered under his nightshirt 
over his back, along his chest, brushing his nipples and sending a tiny jolt 
running through him.

"Sire," he said uncertainly and almost fearfully, as Aragorn expertly 
flipped him onto his back. 

"Mmm?" Aragorn muttered as he gently kissed his throat, making Faramir 
jerk up a little. The king was kissing him, he realised... he'd hardly ever 
been kissed, least of all like this, so tenderly and sensually, and certainly 
not over there, he thought incoherently as his nightshirt was undone and 
kisses landed on his chest.

"Wh – what," he stuttered, almost terrified as he wondered where this was 
going. Aragorn looked up and smiled gently at him.

"Surely it is my turn to return the favour now, is it not?" he said.

"Wh-what?" Faramir yelped.

Aragorn was still smiling as he pushed up the nightshirt to expose 
Faramir's member... he took it in his hands first, only to meet with a very 
startled protest from his steward.

"No!" Faramir cried out, "No, you mustn't..." he mumbled.

"Hush," Aragorn said softly and gently squeezed the limp flesh in his 
hands, watching with delight as Faramir's eyes flew up in surprise.

He began stroking him gently at first and then more rapidly. Faramir let 
out a loud moan when Aragorn lowered his mouth onto him. It didn't take 
long for him to climax... he was rarely afforded the opportunity after all. 
He lay flushed on the bed, hair scattered wildly around him, his eyes wide 
open, breathing heavily.

Aragorn moved up to him and pulled him in his arms, "Well, that was 
nice," he murmured thickly.

"You-you shouldn't have," Faramir said.

"What? Why not?" Aragorn asked amused, "Didn't you like it?"

"Yes, but you mustn't... it's not..."

"Not what? It's only fair... you helped me out, I help you out. Didn't you 
like it?"

"Y-yes, but..."

"Well, so did I, so there's that. I suppose we should be rising soon?"

"Yes, but..."

"Sshh," Aragorn soothed and ran a hand through the wild hair, "All that 
matters is that we both liked what we did."

Faramir gave him an uncertain look.

***

Gandalf came by later in the evening, finding Aragorn in his study still 
engrossed in his work. Without even a word of greeting, the old wizard 
had taken one of the comfortable chairs by the fire, and silently motioned 
for Aragorn to take the other. 

After what seemed to Aragorn a long time spent alternately staring at 
Gandalf anticipating him to speak his mind any minute and following his 
steady gaze into the fire all but expecting to find whatever captivated the 
wizard there from the intensity with which he looked at, Aragorn decided 
to break the silence himself. 

"What troubles you, my friend?"

At first, he was unsure Gandalf had even heard him, until he finally spoke 
up. 

"I may be seeing things. Problems where there are none. Too many nights 
with too little sleep tend to bring that on."

"Yes, even in wizards!" he added when Aragorn's eyebrows went skyward 
at that. Aragorn for one was glad to be acknowledged; to him it had 
seemed that until then, Gandalf had been addressing the fire. 
 
"Like butter that has been scraped over too much bread, dear Bilbo would 
have said. 'Thin.' Not that you can compare of course."

"So it's good then, that you've had some more sleep last night?" Aragorn 
tried tentatively when he sensed Gandalf drifting again.

"Aha! But that is what I was thinking, you see. As said, I may be seeing 
problems where there are none, but before you protest, I say so far we 
have nothing but underestimated the problem." The intense stare that was 
reserved for the fire just moments ago was now firmly fixed on Gondor's 
king.
 
"How am I to protest when I do not yet know which problem you think 
may or may not exist?" he countered calmly.

Just as calm now, and not breaking his gaze for a second, the wizard 
responded. "You are the new authority in Faramir's life. He takes his 
orders from you, he answers to you, it is your judgement of him that 
matters now. In many a sense, you have replaced his father. Your office, 
*this* office," he made a hand movement meant to indicate the room, 
"used to be his. Here, he used to report to his father, now it's you, sitting in 
the same office, behind the same desk."

Aragorn waited for his friend to continue, but when no further explanation 
was forthcoming, he was forced to ask. 

"And you think that is a problem?" 

"It may be, it may not. But you have also heard how Faramir talks about 
what he has been through: 'not so bad' or even his fault. It is merely a 
theory, but he may well be more damaged by this than is obvious. I do not 
believe he has ever had a normal adult relationship, and I wonder if he 
fully appreciates their complexity. On top of that, he desperately wants to 
please, and I am not sure if he would for example know there is a 
difference between shining your boots or seeing to your sexual needs, if he 
thought you needed either."   



	
Title: Walk No More in the Shadows - Chapter 12 of ?
Authors: Minx & Iris (greenrivervalley@gmail.com and 
margot.iris@gmail.com)
Rating: NC-17 overall 
Pairing: Faramir / Aragorn; mention of prior Denethor / Faramir
Warnings: References to predominantly incestuous rape; child abuse; 
violence. AU timeline.
Summary: This is a sequel to "One Last Time" which gave an account of the 
last time Denethor molested his younger son. This sequel deals with 
Faramir's recovery after the War.

For previous chapters, background information and updates, see 
http://www.faramirfiction.com/fics/no_more_shadows.html

***

Aragorn started at that. "Dear friend, I wish you would have spoken of this 
yesterday."

Gandalf looked up sharply, "You did not -?"

"Well, not exactly, but, well... he insisted on helping with my 'needs' as you 
term them, and-"

"I was afraid of that!" Gandalf said, sounding more than a little annoyed, 
"You see now what I said? You stopped him, surely?"

Aragorn flushed a little at that. "I tried to of course, but he is, well, very 
talented." 

"You think this is a *talent*?" the wizard sounded truly agitated now, "A 
gift he was born with?"

Aragorn cringed slightly at his friend's outburst. No, of course it wasn't 
talent, but he had not wanted to contemplate just how Faramir had acquired 
such skill. He had tried to avoid thinking about the incident at all, and yet he 
had caught himself several times that day with his mind far from his work. 
And although it was not unusual these days for Aragorn to be distracted by 
thought of Faramir, today it was not only worry for his young steward that 
kept him from his work, but also, much to his embarrassment, less innocent 
thoughts. 

Seeing the guilt build on Aragorn's features, Gandalf quickly intervened. 
"What's done, is done. What is more important now, is how the boy reacted. 
What exactly did you say to him?"

"I -," Aragorn flushed a little as he spoke, "I well, I helped him out too," he 
said, loathe to discuss something as intimate as this but feeling that Gandalf 
ought to know.

The wizard nodded slowly, raising one questioning eyebrow.

"And - he was surprised, very much so. He felt I shouldn't have done so. I 
told him I was returning the favour."

"It would have been an unorthodox move for him, certainly," the wizard 
agreed.

"It's what I would have done were he anyone else. It is only fair to return the 
favour, I should think," Aragorn countered.

"But he is not anyone else. I do not think his pleasure has ever been catered 
to, Aragorn," Gandalf said calmly, "As said, I think he has a very limited 
understanding of what is normal in adult relationships. Or when he does 
understand, he does not see himself as someone who could ever be a full, 
equal partner in such a relationship."

Aragorn nodded slowly as Gandalf voiced much of what he'd assumed.

"Perhaps," Gandalf said carefully, "This is not so bad an occurrence after 
all."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at that.

"There is much Faramir needs to learn - of his own worth, and of the fact 
that he too can be loved. Learning such things is a bumpy road for all of us, 
with some nights we'd rather forget about, and some lovers best left behind. 
But that is the only way to learn."

"Most of us get this out of the way, for the most part at least, while we're 
young. Quite a bit younger than young Faramir perhaps. But in my opinion 
it is never too late to learn, so the sooner he's set off on this road, the better."

Gandalf carefully studied his companion's expression as his words sank in. 
"Unless, of course..." he added slowly.

Aragorn looked up questioning.

"Unless of course this was not a night - or a morning, as the case may be - to 
forget, and you, my dear friend, would rather not be left behind." Gandalf 
suggested shrewdly. 

Aragorn had been thinking about things, and a tiny thought at the back of his 
mind kept pushing itself forward insistently. The little thought that kept 
reminding him that he was beginning to enjoy Faramir's company and that 
he was coming to be more than a little fond of the quiet young man.

"Perhaps you speak truly," Aragorn said instead, "And what I think is one 
thing but what Faramir may understand of all this is another. Should I speak 
to him, do you think?"

"Yes, you need to speak to him," Gandalf said quietly, "He is a rather 
confused young man nowadays and perhaps a small talk with him will help 
him clear his thoughts, as well as yours."

"He is confused yes," Aragorn said, "And you are right, there is much he 
must understand, more so if he is to marry soon."

"Hmm," Gandalf continued, "I would rather it is you he turns to than anyone 
else. Clearly he is increasingly fond of you, and - you are right. You must 
speak to him. And tell me what he says."

The wizard got up to leave, but before he reached the door, he turned. "And 
if you decide to pursue this, do be careful. It is up to you to go slow, for he 
will not deny you anything - you have seen that now. And you have also 
seen he can react to the simplest things. You know of what I speak - the 
vivid flashbacks he has." 

He waited for Aragorn's comprehending nod before he continued, "If he 
experiences those at the sight of a lantern, or the thought of a bath, I can 
only begin to imagine what memories will be stirred up should the two of 
you ever become more intimate than you have been so far - if you 
understand what I mean."

With that Gandalf left the room.

***

The day seemed interminably long to Faramir. There was a lot to do for 
which he was grateful... it gave him something to focus his attention on 
instead of the events of the morning, although truth be told he could just not 
keep his mind off the morning. He had woken up to feel the king behind 
him, and true he had almost panicked at first. And yet, Elessar had actually 
apologised for scaring him. He hadn't meant to wake up like that, Faramir 
knew. He himself had acted almost out of habit after that. Anyone else, 
Denethor or anyone in that situation would have wanted only one thing from 
him. 

Elessar had not. Elessar had instead had only kind smiles and gentle words 
for him, despite his discomfort. It had felt right to him to take away that 
discomfort.

Elessar hadn't expected that, and yet Faramir knew he'd been more than 
satisfied. But he couldn't help but wonder what the king might think of him 
now. Denethor had always expected Faramir to cater to his needs but it 
hadn't made him any better disposed towards the younger son. Instead 
Faramir had been constantly referred to as filthy, dirty and nothing better 
than a common whore for seeing to these needs.

Elessar was not Denethor and nothing like him, Faramir knew that. He had 
constantly seen that, but... what if Elessar saw him the same way? 

His hands trembled slightly as he lifted some papers off his desk, and he 
nearly jumped at the knock on his door.

"Enter," he said trying desperately to keep his voice calm even as he 
wondered frantically who might have come to visit him. 

"May I come in?" Aragorn asked hesitantly, still half hiding behind the 
door. 

"But of course, my liege," Faramir stumbled instantly, automatically, 
overcome by surprise of the king's presence in his study. 

The king barely ever came to his study; Faramir always came to him. In 
fact, Faramir now realized, the only time Elessar had ever come to his study 
before was when he had first fallen ill, which had made him miss a meeting 
- and the king very angry. 

Faramir observed his king uncertainly. He looked uncomfortable, unsure 
what to say. Perhaps he was angry again, Faramir thought. He certainly had 
good reason to. Perhaps the king had come to tell him he'd best leave the 
city after what happened that morning, that he didn't want him around 
anymore. Perhaps it was worse news still.

Aragorn had been pondering over just what to say to Faramir ever since 
Gandalf left his room earlier that evening, and seeing his steward now - so 
timid, anxious almost - made him hesitate yet again. He had not doubted 
Gandalf's assessment of the situation, but seeing Faramir now made it all the 
more real. 

Looking around his steward's study, he realized there were no comfortable 
chairs or roaring fire to create a pleasant corner for an informal conversation 
like in his own study, so he took a place at the window-seat instead. 

"Come join me," he patted the seat next to him while addressing Faramir, 
who was still eying him apprehensively, "I'd like to talk about what 
happened this morning."

In the high but narrow windows in this part of the tower, the window-seats 
only barely provided enough room for two, but Faramir duly obeyed and 
squeezed into the space Aragorn had indicated, sitting primly upright and 
pulling his legs in just so, in order to prevent their knees from touching

Seeing the gesture, Aragorn quickly put his hand on Faramir's knee and 
smiled at him at the same time, urging him to relax. "Please, there is nothing 
to fret over. I told you this morning, you did nothing wrong. It is I who came 
to apologize," he started.

"Oh no, my lord! You have nothing to apologize for!" Faramir insisted 
instantly, looking if anything more tense than he had a moment ago.

"Faramir, please, let me speak. I frightened you this morning, and for that I 
am deeply sorry. I should have shown more control, especially since I know 
you have been through so much, and the reason I was there was to protect 
you from more hurt. I understand if you would prefer Gandalf to tend to you 
from now on."

Faramir bit his lip nervously. So Elessar didn't want to care for him 
anymore. He probably found him repulsive, but was too kind to tell him 
outright. What a fool he'd been for thinking this could have ended any other 
way, for believing anyone like Elessar would want to spend time with him. 

Aragorn watched the turmoil on the younger man's face, discouraged that 
his words seemed to have done little to reassure him. "Faramir, forgive me, 
please," he tried.

"But my liege, you never frightened me. I know you would never hurt me. 
I've know from the first time I saw you, when you called me out of the 
shadows, and again last night when you called me from my dream. You 
have always made me feel safe." Faramir took a deep breath before he 
continued, "I understand you do not want to have anything to do with me 
anymore for the liberties I took this morning, and for that I can only 
apologize. But you, my Lord, have nothing to apologize for. You have only 
ever shown me kindness."

Aragorn grabbed hold of Faramir's knees with both hands now, needing the 
contact. "The liberties you took? Oh Faramir! You did no such thing, I 
assure you. It is not that I want naught to do with you - there is nothing I 
would like more than make you feel safe and help you sleep soundly. But 
you have to understand you do not need to repay me. And-," he paused to 
reflect on Gandalf's words, and to choose his own carefully, "and there are 
some favours that should never be used for bargaining."

Faramir looked up to him and nodded. He seemed less anxious now, but it 
was difficult to read from his expression if he had really understood.
 
"If you want, I will sleep next to you again and keep your nightmares at bay. 
Or if you prefer, I am certain Gandalf will be more than happy to watch over 
you instead. It is entirely up to you."

"I could not ask any more of either of you," Faramir protested weakly.

"Nonsense. We both are happy to help. But if you feel safe with me as well, 
maybe it is best to let the old wizard sleep. I think he needs it."

Faramir continued to bite his lower lip uncertainly, trying to sort out his 
muddled thoughts. He wasn't sure why he'd acted the way he had that 
morning, and truly the breathless look of pleasure on Aragorn's face had 
evoked a strange feeling in him. He had acted almost on impulse, knowing 
somehow that Elessar would never expect it from him.

The king had spoken of favours that should never be used for bargaining and 
Faramir felt a dull ache inside him as he recollected the words. To him, such 
favours had always been a bargain, a losing one. He had never had the 
choice to refuse. And he had never received anything in return. 

Perhaps the king did not indeed see him as Denethor had...

"I feel safe with you," he repeated softly, "Safer than ever." 

Aragorn smiled gently at him at the words and quietly grasped the Steward's 
cold hands in his own and pressed them gently, "I shall see you after the 
evening meal then," he said. And then after a pause, "You did nothing that 
you need fear about this morning. I liked what we shared, but I would not 
have it unless you liked it too, and did so from your own desire and not from 
a need to oblige me as lord. If you wish to forget ever that it happened, I 
shall do so too. If you choose to remember it I shall cherish it." 

***

Faramir had been quiet while eating, too lost in thoughts. Elessar's words 
had left him quite thoughtful. It was not often that he had catered to 
someone's needs and created such a near-uproar. He had expected surprise, 
disgust, shock but not an apology. He noticed the king and Gandalf 
exchange glances at dinner.

They were worried he realized, almost surprised. Worried for him, because 
he had chosen to cater to his king's needs. Worried because he had been 
intimate with another. Mithrandir had subjected him to a close scrutiny 
making Faramir wonder uncomfortably whether the wizard expected him to 
fall over during the meal.

It hurt him a little. Did they think what had happened that morning would 
hurt him? Did they expect him to react like a swooning maiden? He'd been 
scared he realized now, but he'd pushed the fear away. And yet, he had been 
afraid and they must have realized that for they feared for him now in their 
glances at him every now and then. 

He was being stupid. He had to lose his fear.

He met the king outside his chambers after the meal.

They entered Faramir's room quietly and Aragorn gently steered him 
towards the bed.

"You said we needn't do anything," Faramir said suddenly, almost 
nervously.

"Yes," Aragorn smiled reassuringly, "We'll just sleep. You need enough rest 
anyway."

"I - um... I'd like to," Faramir said rapidly. 

"You would like to?" Aragorn asked, quietly.

Faramir nodded diffidently, "If - if you'd like. I don't want to forget what we 
shared this morning. You cared for me unlike - unlike - ... and you reminded 
me that - that - this is not an act I should fear,...But if you'd prefer to not - I - 
"

"No...I would like that," Aragorn replied gently, pulling Faramir into his 
arms. "You are right, it is not an act that anyone should fear. It is meant to 
be enjoyable - for both."

"I - I know it is meant to be enjoyed... and I have seen happiness on the 
faces of others after they have spent the night with another. But I - I have 
never - enjoyed it," Faramir said haltingly, miserably, " And yet I know it is 
meant to be enjoyed, but -"

"Sshh..." Aragorn whispered gently, taking Faramir's face in his hands and 
gazing into the clouded grey eyes, "I'll show you how... let me show you..."

They sat down on the bed and Aragorn pulled off his outer garments and 
stood in a thin tunic and pants. Faramir made to remove his clothes too, but 
Aragorn stopped him.

"Let me," he said softly, not missing the slight tremble in Faramir's figure. It 
was clear a part of the Steward was still troubled. He gently pulled Faramir 
onto the bed and leaned over him and began to undo the bindings on the 
tunic exposing Faramir's bare chest underneath. Faramir's eyes were full of 
uncertainty as Aragorn pulled off the tunic entirely and moved his fingers to 
the ties of his pants. But Aragorn also kept up a soft and tender stroking 
motion on the small of Faramir's back that seemed to allay his nervousness a 
little and he even began to relax slowly. He then helped the younger man up 
to pull off the pants entirely and then leaned over and kissed him softly on 
his mouth, before placing him back against the pillows. Faramir flushed 
slightly and gave Aragorn an anxious glance as the older man smiled gently 
at him. 

Realising Faramir felt a little awkward over his nakedness, Aragorn busied 
himself with undoing his own tunic. He'd seen the younger man undressed 
earlier but Faramir had been unconscious then and would probably be as 
embarrassed to hear about it.

Faramir turned over onto his stomach and spread his legs slightly and turned 
his face sideways towards Aragorn, who had removed his own pants and 
tunic completely now, revealing a well-proportioned handsome figure. 

Aragorn could see Faramir still felt a little tense; the bright grey eyes darted 
around rapidly at every movement Aragorn made, and a slight tremor ran 
through the legs. The sight made him remember Gandalf's words from 
earlier that evening: his warning to go slow and be aware some things may 
jog unpleasant memories. 

Very gently, Aragorn reached for him and turned him over. Surprise was 
etched clearly on Faramir's features, and discomfort too. Going slow was 
easier said than done! He would have to act somehow, he decided, or else 
the young man's fragile confidence would soon disappear completely. 

He stroked the pale face gently, in a relaxing motion. And then reached 
lower and took his arousal in his hands. Faramir gasped very softly at that.

"You look beautiful," Aragorn murmured softly, as he reached for the bottle 
of oil he'd seen by the nightstand, and coated Faramir's shaft with it, slowly 
and gently, watching the expression on his face change as it thickened under 
his fingers.

The grey eyes opened wide as Aragorn took more oil in his fingers and 
contorting his body coated his entrance generously with it.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Faramir asked worriedly.

"I'd like to feel you inside me," Aragorn said softly, as he continued working 
the oil into himself.

"Wh-what?" 

Faramir stared at him a little uncomprehendingly as he repeated, "I'd like to 
feel you inside me."

"B-but..."

"Ssh..." Aragorn murmured placing a finger on Faramir's lips as he straddled 
himself over the younger man's thighs and pushed himself onto his erect 
member.

"No," Faramir cried out, as Aragorn grunted a little, "It'll hurt you... you 
mustn't!" He reached for Aragorn's waist trying to urge him to pull out.

"I'll be fine," Aragorn gritted out as he felt Faramir fill him. He pushed in 
harder, forcing Faramir to fall back against the pillows, and despite himself 
Faramir found his body betraying him as Aragorn's tight muscles clenched 
around him. He let Aragorn take over after that, pushing as demanded, and 
allowing the king to take his hands and wrap them around his arousal and 
stroke it as they rocked in tandem, until Aragorn suddenly cried out and 
clenched tighter around him. Faramir gasped softly at that, knowing he 
could not control himself any longer. The king threw his head back, his hair 
flying wild sweat glistening off the muscles of his chest and abdomen, and 
let out another animalistic moan before releasing himself at the same time as 
Faramir.

They came apart slowly and lay in each other's arms getting their breath 
back. Faramir spoke first, "Are you all right?" he asked timidly, turning to 
look anxiously at Aragorn.

"Never better," Aragorn smiled, "You were wonderful!"

"I didn't hurt you?" Faramir asked worriedly. 

"Of course not, darling! It was most enjoyable!"

"You-you enjoyed *that*?" Faramir asked a little incredulously. He'd had to 
impale himself once on Denethor who had had a bad back and the pain the 
experience had caused had remained for days after that. He'd been sore and 
in pain not just from the act itself but also from the bruises Denethor's 
fingers had left in his waist and hips. And while he knew that there were 
others who found this pleasurable it was difficult to remember that while 
being made to hurt in performing the same act.

"Of course I did," Aragorn repeated reassuringly.

"Oh," Faramir said, and then after a longer pause, "Could - could you show 
me how," he said in a rush.

Aragorn stared at him in confusion, "How to what?"

"How to enjoy that?" Faramir said blushing a little, as he realized how he 
must sound. It was supposed to be an enjoyable act he knew, but he had 
never been given an opportunity to enjoy it and that hurt.

Aragorn looked at Faramir closely. The younger man seemed to need this, 
he thought, and he was determined to ensure he'd teach Faramir what it felt 
like to actually be made love to. Still, it was all very much, so soon. What if 
he could not make it good for him? Or what if Faramir panicked, like 
Gandalf had suggested, before he had even had a chance?

"I suppose so," he said slowly, gently, "But, tonight?" 

Faramir nodded.

"All right," Aragorn said pulling him closer and kissing him softly on his 
forehead, "But we'll go only as far as I say we shall."

Faramir nodded and then to Aragorn's puzzlement rose and turned away 
from him. He smiled as he realized the Steward had reached for the oil, but 
the smile faltered as he watched Faramir take it in his fingers and swiftly 
coat himself with it before Aragorn could even tell him to let him do it. He'd 
obviously done this before, Aragorn realized with a pang of sadness.

"I'm ready," Faramir said in a small voice, sounding a little nervous once 
again.

Aragorn quietly took the oil from his hands and nudged him down onto the 
pillows, spreading his legs apart a little. He could feel the steward's puzzled 
gaze rest on him as he helped himself to more oil from the bottle, noting 
quietly that Faramir had taken but a bare minimal amount, and coated his 
fingers thoroughly with it. Kneeling down between Faramir's spread legs, he 
gave him a small smile, "Relax," he said soothingly, and circled his fingers 
around the tiny entrance.

He pushed in very slowly and gently. Faramir took him in easily and 
Aragorn soon slipped in a second finger, circling inside the passageway 
lubricating it thoroughly. Faramir still looked a little uneasy so Aragorn 
leaned over and kissed him gently on his lips, and stroked his chest with his 
other hand. He inched his fingers in slowly further and further, until he felt 
the tiny gland he sought, and then he crooked his fingers brushing over it 
gently. Faramir gasped aloud.

"Oh!"

"Did you like that?" Aragorn asked softly, as he pulled his fingers away and 
then brushed over the area once again.

Faramir could only nod. Aragorn kept up a deliberate routine of pulling 
away and brushing in again and again and watched as Faramir's gasps turned 
into an almost silent ecstasy. Faramir's hands were gripping his arms now 
and he moaned softly as Aragorn's fingers worked. 

Once more, he lightly stroked the sensitive gland, and watched as Faramir's 
eyes clouded over. He kept up the stroking motion, gently circling the spot 
with two fingertips.

Faramir groaned aloud and then cried out as Aragorn wrapped his free hand 
around his arousal and squeezed it lightly.

Faramir was still crying out softly when he came, breathing heavily and 
rapidly, his eyes full of a dazed wonder. 

"Did you enjoy that?" Aragorn asked gently as he made Faramir lie back 
after cleaning up.

Faramir nodded quietly, too tired to speak.


Title: Walk No More in the Shadows – Chapter 13 of ?
Authors: Minx & Iris (greenrivervalley@gmail.com and 
margot.iris@gmail.com)
Rating: NC–17 overall 
Pairing: Faramir / Aragorn; mention of prior Denethor / Faramir
Warnings: References to predominantly incestuous rape; child abuse; 
violence. AU timeline.
Summary: This is a sequel to "One Last Time" which gave an account of the 
last time Denethor molested his younger son. This sequel deals with 
Faramir's recovery after the War.

For previous chapters, background information and updates, see 
http://www.faramirfiction.com/fics/no_more_shadows.html

***

It was dark and foggy around him and terrifying, as he felt the familiar 
weight descend upon his aching body, followed by the pain that seared 
through his lower back. Harsh, smirking words echoed into his ears, even as 
he tried desperately to keep from crying out. It hurt as much as the words 
did. 

He was worth little else, he was nothing like Boromir, he was to be taught a 
lesson.

He shifted uneasily, he would be held in place and it hurt, his head hurt, and 
–

He whimpered fearfully. And then louder.

Aragorn murmured softly as the whimpering sound reached his ears, and 
instinctively moved closer to Faramir’s trembling body. Still sleeping, he 
slung an arm over Faramir’s waist and buried his face against the thin 
shoulder.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he whispered, still in deep sleep, “I’m here. All 
shall be well.”

Tears continued to flow down his cheeks, as his father continued to berate 
him. And then suddenly the pain stopped, as did the scornful words.

Firm but soft hands circled around his waist, fingers splaying across his 
stomach, then running up and down his upper body, stroking him gently in 
calming, soothing motions. Gentle words wafted into his tired ears.

“I’m here for you…”

“Sire,” he murmured as he raised his head to see his king standing before 
him, resplendent in his regal robes, the crown set atop his head, bending 
over his ungainly, naked frame sprawled across the marbled floor in front of 
the king’s throne.

“Dear Faramir,” Elessar responded softly, before helping him up, “Do not 
worry dearest, I am here for you.”

He felt himself being pulled into a gentle embrace, his aching body coming 
in touch with the silk of the robes. He fell into those arms, and let himself be 
touched and stroked gently, slowly, a bevy of strange wonderful feelings 
collecting in his lower belly.

The king’s robes disappeared, evaporating into thin air, and his skin was 
touching soft skin now. Hands wandered over the back of his thighs. As 
though on impulse, he moved to kneel down and pleasure his king, but the 
hands around his waist prevented that. 

“Ssshhh…” Elessar murmured softly, and then shifted his position, so that 
his erection brushed against Faramir’s semi-aroused length. 

Faramir gasped softly. Elessar pulled him closer, holding him in place 
maintaining that wonderful contact. And then he shifted again. Faramir let 
out a soundless cry.

They fell to the floor, still holding each other, Elessar still stroking lightly 
all over. Gentle hands continued to probe his upper body, running over his 
chest, skimming over his ribs, brushing his nipples, before moving to his 
lower belly. He spread his legs wide, raised up, breathing heavily. The slight 
nudge to his backside, caused him to gasp softly from  the excitement the 
touch induced. Greased fingers parted his legs wider, before slipping 
between them and touching him. 

As awareness returned slowly, his mind still processing the feelings his 
dream had evoked, Faramir found himself waking to a strangely familiar 
feeling. One that he noted as wakefulness filtered back into him, no longer 
felt as scary or even uncomfortable as he would have thought. 

His dream had left him recollecting the feeling of the king’s nakedness 
against his own, much as he felt it now. The king seemed to be a morning 
person, he thought with amusement as he felt the telltale hardness brush his 
bare bottom. And this morning, the king wasn’t the only one! 

He flushed slightly as he remembered how they hadn’t bothered with 
nightclothes last night after they had cleaned up, their close proximity 
providing plenty of warmth. Faramir had been so tired but in the nicest 
possible way. He remembered how it had felt to have Aragorn’s hands 
touching him so tenderly, the feel of those soft hands lulling him further into 
sleep.

He ought to feel more embarrassed than he felt, to be naked, in his state, 
with his king so near. But then again, the king was equally naked, and in a 
similar state. And truth be told though, Faramir quite liked the feel of 
Aragorn’s skin on his. It felt warm and cosy and comfortable. He flushed a 
little more as he recalled all they’d done the night before and how the king 
had shown him after all these years how it was truly supposed to feel to be 
intimate with another. It had been pleasurable, and even exciting in a way 
and most of all, gentle, full of the tenderness and care that came to mind 
whenever he thought of Elessar. 

His eyes drifted to the bottle of oil on the nightstand, where Elessar had 
replaced it. The sight of the oil bottle had usually filled him with trepidation 
all these years, bundled as it was with memories of countless occasions 
where he’d been sent summons by Denethor just as he’d been ready to retire 
for the night, and had had to hurriedly prepare himself before leaving. 
Today, though a strange tingling feeling coursed through him.

Wouldn’t it be nice, he thought sleepily, to give the king a nice start to the 
day, just as they had done the previous day. The king had seemed to like it 
the previous morning. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind if he’d help him out again? 

Yes, perhaps he could give the king a nice start to the day again. He reached 
out for the small bottle taking care to ensure that he did not disturb Aragorn 
with his movements. He shifted as discreetly as possible and smiled as 
Aragorn murmured something indistinctly.  He took out some oil and deftly 
prepared himself. The king was still asleep, lying on his side, when he was 
done. 

How was he to go about this now? It would not be fair to disturb the king 
before everything was ready, he decided. He would do it slowly. Quietly, he 
lay back down by the king on his side, aligning himself till he could feel the 
stiffness against his buttocks. There was a slight murmur.

Elessar seemed to be waking up he decided, smiling, and then curling up his 
legs, pushed himself back against his arousal. That should wake the king! 

It did. Aragorn’s eyes flew open as he felt the tip of his erection breach 
Faramir’s entrance.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, in surprise.

“Good morning,” Faramir was glancing back over his shoulder, a small 
smile on his face.

“Oh, it is good indeed!” Aragorn managed to reply, feeling very wide awake 
now, “If only all mornings could be this good,” he gasped out as Faramir 
pushed back against him again.
 
“We could try,” Faramir offered, blushing a little.

“Hmm...” Aragorn murmured, wrapping his arms around Faramir, as the 
steward pushed against him again, a little more assertively this time. 
Aragorn moaned at the sensation that pulsed through him, and gently pushed 
into the welcoming passage, sighing softly as the tight muscles constricted 
around his stiffness, “We could... “

Faramir felt himself filling up slowly and for the briefest of moments nearly 
froze, waiting to be pushed onto his stomach and the rough, hard thrusts to 
start. But all he felt were gentle nudges and he felt himself begin to relax 
slowly, and pulled his knees up further allowing Aragorn deeper inside, 
before the tender pushing stopped. They lay like that for a few seconds 
before Aragorn began to push in slowly once again, his arms still around 
Faramir.

The thrusts were slow and so unlike the painful ones he was usually used to, 
Faramir realised, gasping a little at the tenderness he felt. Aragorn was in no 
hurry... he was almost lazy in fact. His hands meanwhile were roaming over 
Faramir's chest, the touches soft and gentle, brushing his nipples, his ribs, 
his navel. The fingers played with his nipples, kneading them gently, 
hardening them. Faramir moaned softly, he’d never known a touch like 
this... he could hardly move, Aragorn was holding him snugly in place. At 
any other time, he’d have panicked he knew, but this time, Faramir didn’t 
want to move. He felt perfect here. He coloured a little as he realised how 
much he was enjoying this feeling. Soft kisses landed on his back and 
shoulders, as the almost lazy thrusts continued, engulfing Faramir in a 
dream-like feeling that didn’t let up until Aragorn touched him in that place 
again. He moaned loudly as the warmth coursed through him. He’d never 
realised it could feel this way, he though hazily as they climaxed together, 
and Aragorn continued to hold him and kiss him gently.

They parted only when the sun filtered harshly through the curtains into the 
room, Faramir still blushing a little. Aragorn studied him carefully for a 
moment, suddenly anxious over going against Gandalf’s advise as well as 
his own intentions and becoming this intimate already this soon. But there 
was nothing but relaxed bliss in the steward’s features. 

He smiled at the slightly silly expression, as he wondered just how long he 
would have waited if Faramir wouldn’t have made the first move. Just be 
glad he did, he quickly concluded. 

“Did you sleep well?”

Faramir’s blush deepened as he once again remembered his dream. “Yes, 
very well, thank you,” he answered smiling.

Aragorn couldn’t help but smile back. “Good. That’s very good to hear,” he 
said planting one last kiss on Faramir’s shoulder. 

“Shall I see you again tonight?” Aragorn asked softly as he rose from 
Faramir’s bed, not wishing the younger man to undergo the same turmoil 
that he had the day before, worrying over what Aragorn may think.

Faramir nodded quietly, and gave a small smile in return.

***

They had to spend the morning and afternoon apart, Faramir having to go 
through some old work still leftover, while Aragorn had an audience with an 
envoy, meeting again only at an early supper where most of the conversation 
was monopolised by Legolas and Gimli who were arguing about something 
Aragorn paid no attention to. It was only after supper that they got time 
together again, to discuss Aragorn’s talks with the envoy.

Gandalf came by just then, and found both men in Aragorn’s study.

“Mithrandir!’ Faramir said smiling, “You do look much better today!”

“Thank you, child,” the wizard replied almost sarcastically, “So do you. I 
trust the new arrangements are comfortable enough?”

“Indeed!” Faramir said his eyes shining as he looked at Aragorn.

Aragorn simply nodded.

“I suppose you won’t need me tonight,” Gandalf said grumpily.

“No,” Aragorn agreed steadily, “You could do with more rest.”

Gandalf shrugged, “Good,” he grunted, “The hobbits have some idea of 
visiting taverns tonight. I think I should go along, just in case!” 

***

Gandalf said nothing a day later either when Aragorn told him that he would 
spend the next few nights as well with Faramir. He merely shrugged.

Faramir welcomed Aragorn’s sharing his bed each night shyly but willingly. 
And Aragorn for his part decided to ensure that whatever they did, Faramir 
got to sleep regular hours each night. The younger man had been through a 
lot, he knew, and he ensured that he was at all times nothing but caring, a 
sensation that, he realised each day, was new to the younger man. It made 
Aragorn all the more determined to ensure that Faramir know that sex could 
be enjoyed. He was old enough and sensible enough to know that the act 
when not forced was meant to be just that, but years of being taken against 
his will would be difficult to overcome. Aragorn was the first person he’d 
met who had been in such close contact with him and not wanted to abuse 
him sexually.

He carefully but discreetly, along with Gandalf kept a watch on the younger 
man’s eating habits and work hours, never hesitating to pull him away for a 
walk whenever the young Steward seemed to be getting overwhelmed by the 
necessity to learn so much of the Stewardship in such little time. 

Faramir sighed softly as he leaned contentedly against a tree. It was 
beautiful outside, and the air was crisp, so Aragorn had suggested a long 
walk in the gardens after they’d finished going through a particularly 
gruelling set of papers on new trade treaties. Faramir had agreed, for he had 
begun to feel exhausted, the recent illness still troubling him. They had 
spent a wonderful hour in each other’s company talking about books and 
poems, and had only stopped when Aragorn had decided it was time for 
Faramir to rest a little. They sat on a small stone bench in a shaded nook 
enjoying the view, and he felt his eyes drifting shut.

“Here you are!” the sudden sound made his eyes fly open and he found 
himself instinctively moving closer to Aragorn.

Twin faces grinned back at them in delight, as Aragorn protectively 
wrapped an arm around Faramir’s shoulders and pulled him close and then 
stared back at the sons of Elrond who sat on either side of them now.

“Elladan, Elrohir,” he said with a calmness that Faramir envied. His own 
heart was beating furiously as he realised what an odd position he and his 
king were in. The elven twins were not only the brothers of the King’s 
betrothed, but also like foster brothers to Aragorn himself, and he wasn’t 
sure how they’d react to his nearness to the King. Aragorn however made no 
move to release him so he stayed where he was, staring from one to the 
other.

“Hello Aragorn,” the one sitting near him said cheerfully, Faramir thought it 
might be Elrohir, “How are you now, Lord Faramir? We have missed you 
greatly. We hardly see you nowadays, even though Gandalf says you’re 
continuing to recover quite rapidly now. Aragorn seems to have claimed 
most of your time.”

Faramir opened his mouth intending to say something, anything, but the 
other Elf interrupted him, “Well, Aragorn did always have surprisingly good 
taste, although that doesn’t explain Arwen!”

Both of them snickered loudly at that while Aragorn groaned and looked 
around for help in the form of Legolas or Gimli to shoo the twins away. All 
he could see was one of the councillors in the distance sitting in another 
shaded bower, reading a book, Tarnost he though his name was.
 
Meanwhile, Faramir tried to sit up, slipping out of Aragorn’s embrace, 
confused and a little fearful. 

“I did wonder to see Faramir smiling at breakfast. It was a fine sight but 
curious nevertheless. I see now what caused it!” Elladan said irrepressibly.

The twins arose together and Elrohir smiled at a gaping Faramir, “We are 
very glad to see you are well again.” Bending down he grasped the 
Steward’s face lightly and bestowed a small kiss on his forehead.

Faramir gasped softly in surprise, and felt his face redden. He dropped his 
eyes to hide his embarrassment, even as Elladan too dropped a kiss on his 
lowered head.

He looked up bewildered, to find them smiling gently at him. Aragorn was 
giving him an amused yet fond look, “You’re embarrassing him,” he said 
lightly, and brought his arm around Faramir once again and kissed him 
lightly on his cheek.

Aragorn could see too that more than a few people noticed Faramir’s 
changed mood over the next few days, though he was sure no one was aware 
of the full circumstances as much as the twins were. He was certainly going 
to ensure the younger man continued to take things lightly for a while!

Aragorn couldn’t help but think there were many more things also that he 
could teach Faramir, especially when it came to his ways in bed. The young 
man was inexperienced enough in many matters and Éowyn for one would 
not care much for a husband like that, he thought. For now he was glad 
though that he was beginning to drop his reserve with him, even if it was 
only in bed. He’d convinced him to call him Aragorn while they were alone, 
and to hear his name being uttered in a voice so thick with emotion and an 
almost reverence had thrilled him and awakened a strange feeling inside 
him.

***

They were in Aragorn’s study a few nights later, when Aragorn put his quill 
down and rose from his seat, “Come,” he said warmly to Faramir, “I’m a 
little tired and I’m sure you are too!”

They walked down the winding passageways with Aragorn leading the way. 
He’d decided they might as well spend the night in his chambers. The bed 
was larger and much more comfortable than Faramir’s straw-filled mattress. 
He stopped at his chambers and opening the door, stepped inside. Faramir 
waited outside politely.

“Well, come along then,” Aragorn said smiling.

Faramir stared at him worriedly, but stepped in all the same.

“I was thinking we could sleep here instead,” Aragorn said, “It’s a larger 
bed and more comfortable as well.” 

Faramir stopped hesitantly and stared around the room, causing Aragorn to 
look at him in consternation. Faramir was biting his lower lip unhappily as 
though thinking of something else altogether and Aragorn felt a pang in his 
heart.

*I thought he said he liked being with me…Is Gandalf right? Did I rush 
things after all?*

"What’s wrong?” he asked anxiously, “Do you not wish me to spend the 
night with you? Is it because of–” Aragorn stopped mid-sentence, seeing 
Faramir’s apprehensive expression, still focussed on the bed.  “Don’t 
worry,” he tried to reassure the younger man, “we can also just go to sleep. 
All I want is to keep your nightmares away so you can sleep easily, just like 
Gandalf did. You don’t have to do anything for me.”
 
“I know,” Faramir said sincerely, turning to Aragorn now, but a troubled 
expression remained on his face.

“Then what’s the matter?” Aragorn asked gently. Something seemed to be 
bothering the younger man.

Faramir took a deep breath before answering hesitantly, “It’s the room. 
Father used it sometimes… with me.”

It took all of Aragorn’s self-control to not look as aghast as he felt on 
hearing that. “He did? This room? Why not his own bedroom?”
 
“He used that too, but only at night. If he wanted the use of a bed during the 
daytime, he’d send me here. These rooms were not in use then, so it was 
quiet here.”
 
“But surely it would be noticed if the rooms had been used? Someone would 
have had to clean up, put fresh sheets on the bed.”
 
“I did that.”
 
“Oh,”  Aragorn said. He looked at Faramir closely. The younger man was 
staring at the bed again, clearly unhappy, “You’d be more comfortable in 
your room then?”

Faramir nodded in response.
 
Aragorn nodded and led Faramir out. 

“I’m sorry,” Faramir whispered miserably.

“Don’t be,” Aragorn said reassuringly as he closed the door behind him, “I 
can understand if you have unhappy memories of that room.” Indeed he 
could. In fact, he briefly wondered how he himself would feel, next time he 
slept in his own bed, now that he knew what had come to pass there, in his 
room, in his bed... But no, those were not healthy or helpful thoughts. The 
last thing Faramir would need right now, was for him to get upset too. 

Seeing that Faramir still looked unhappy, he continued, “Maybe, in a while, 
we can make some happy memories for you in that room, so it won’t be all 
bad ones. How about that?" 

Faramir gave him a tiny smile and ducked his head sideways, nodding.

***

Faramir smiled shyly at Aragorn as he finished undressing and sat upon his 
bed. Aragorn was struggling with the bindings of his ceremonial robe. 
Faramir had offered to help him but he’d shaken his head. 

While he was slowly beginning to feel more and more comfortable with 
him, the king’s nearness still caused a strange sensation in him. It seemed 
unbelievable to him that Aragorn could actually want to spend so much time 
with him, being so gentle with him. He felt himself redden a little as he 
remembered how Aragorn’s hands felt on him, how his mere fingers had 
caused that strangely pleasurable sensation inside him…

He watched as Aragorn finally untangled the bindings. He reached out for 
the small bottle that he’d ensured was readily placed on the nightstand. He’d 
even ensured it contained a sweet smelling oil instead of the usual saddle oil 
he’d often used for want of anything else. He uncorked the bottle, preparing 
to take the sticky substance on his fingers, when Aragorn came and stood by 
him.

“No, don’t use that,” Aragorn said. 

 Faramir stared up at him.

 “I don’t think we’ll need this tonight,” Aragorn said firmly and plucked the 
bottle of oil from Faramir’s nerveless hands.

The Steward barely managed to keep the scared surprise he felt off his face. 
He watched dumbly as Aragorn replaced the stopper in the bottle and placed 
it on the table, and then recommenced undressing. They were not going to 
use the oil? 

He wondered whether to protest, no perhaps plead that he be allowed to use 
some oil, but then – Aragorn was his king. And he had been through this 
before.

He gulped noiselessly at the unbidden memories that filled his head. 
Denethor had always seemed to like it better when Faramir hadn’t used the 
oil. There had been times when he’d been summoned unexpectedly and had 
had no time to prepare. It had pleased his father to catch him unawares, and 
it had pleasured him the more the pain was. He could still remember the 
pain he’d experienced each time, even as his father had gloated into his ear 
calling him tight as a whore in the first circle, and told him this was his sole 
use. 

But these had been rare occasions. Faramir had made it a habit to prepare for 
the worst each and every time he went to see his father, as well as each time 
he had to appear in front of the Council since Denethor often called him 
back afterwards. It had been humiliating, standing there in front of all the 
councillors, delivering his reports and all the while feeling the oil creep 
between his buttocks. Especially since soon enough his father as well as a 
number of members of the Council were well aware of his predicament and 
taunted him mercilessly with it. But it was a humiliation he had gladly 
accepted. For  he could not easily forget the one time, when he had been 
summoned a mere half hour prior to leaving for Ithilien and had gone 
unprepared; he still remembered the tremendous pain he’d been through on 
the ride there and the his ensuing efforts to hide his awful predicament from 
the rangers concerned over his clearly pain filled and ailing demeanour. 

But on all such occasions, Denethor had always been more than satisfied. 
He didn’t shove him away roughly off his bed as he usually did after 
finishing with him. 

No wonder Elessar didn’t want the oil either. He would get more pleasure 
without it. And that was what Faramir was meant to do after all – to please 
the king. Why had he ever thought otherwise? He had been foolish to think 
Elessar might have liked him! Why should he? He was the king of Gondor 
due to marry the elven daughter of the Lord of Imladris. How could 
someone like Faramir be more than something to pass the night until then?

And as if anyone could love someone like him. He was too spoiled and 
defiled for anyone at all to want him for any other reason. Of course 
Aragorn knew how worthless he was. He was of use for only one thing. All 
of them knew that. 

He lay down on his back, spreading his legs slightly, and waited, trying to 
control his rapidly beating heart. He was used to the pain, after all. He 
shouldn’t be so worried. And it was not as though he had much work on the 
morrow. Perhaps, Elessar would let him rest off the pain awhile in the 
morning. He hoped he would. He could catch up with his work later in the 
morning. A few hours of rest extra, that was all. He mustn’t ask for more.  

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Aragorn sat by him, having finally 
divested himself off his outer garments.

“Turn around,” he said calmly, and Faramir obediently flopped onto his 
belly. He laid his head on his hands as he felt Aragorn’s weight descend on 
the bed between his legs. He should have expected this too, he told himself, 
nevertheless feeling slightly dazed. 

Denethor had always made him face away from him. Facing Denethor had 
invariably meant a stinging lap. More than once, the Steward’s ring had 
scratched his face; he still had a series of faint little scars, running almost 
parallel across his right cheekbone, to prove it. 

He raised his hips slightly. Aragorn’s hands were on his buttocks now, 
spreading his legs wider apart. He shut his eyes tight, burrowing deeper into 
his hands, trying to force himself to relax, despite the pain he knew was to 
follow. 

He couldn’t help but tense up as Elessar’s hands spread his buttocks wider. 
A breath of warm air hit his backside and then he felt something wet enter 
him, pushing into him… before he scrabbled up in shock, a squeal erupting 
involuntarily from his shocked mouth.

The sudden movement sent him up against the hard wood of the headboard 
even as Aragorn let out a startled exclamation and drew back from his 
flailing legs.

Faramir huddled against the headboard now, rubbing at the bruise that was 
forming where his forehead had impacted against the carved wood.

Aragorn was nearly at the edge of the bed now, a bemused expression on his 
face.

“You almost kicked me,” he complained as he moved towards Faramir.

Faramir stared back at Aragorn’s face, at the tip of the pink tongue that had 
entered him barely seconds ago, “I – I’m sorry, Sire!” he gasped out, “I 
didn’t mean to hurt you!”

Aragorn’s expression turned to one of concern, as he took in the fear and 
confusion in Faramir’s eyes. He moved closer to Faramir, “You didn’t hurt 
me at all,” he assured him

“Wh – why did you do that?” Faramir stuttered and hugged his legs to his 
chest, covering himself.
	
“Why? Didn’t you like it?” Aragorn countered, “I had to use something to 
prepare you, didn’t I?” he continued teasingly, “You don’t expect me to just 
- ” and then stopped suddenly.
 
There was an awkward pause before Aragorn swiftly pulled Faramir into his 
arms, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you,” he said quietly, a little 
alarmed at how fast Faramir’s heart seemed to be beating, “You’ve bruised 
your forehead.” 

“N- no. I’m fine,” the steward answered. He had that same confused look 
Aragorn had thought he’d seen earlier but not thought to probe into. He 
wished now he had. 

Apparently Faramir had indeed expected him to not bother about preparing 
him. Somehow he didn’t think he’d have to explain to Faramir that that 
would have hurt him a great deal. He continued to hold the tense young man 
in his arms, and then gently kissed the bruise on his forehead. 

As he waited for Faramir to calm down, Aragorn debated on what to do 
next. Knowing Faramir, he would probably clam up about this, especially if 
Aragorn let him go off to sleep now, much as he would have liked to. Once 
Faramir seemed to relax a little, he spoke.

“Faramir?”

The younger man looked up at him mutely, his grey eyes filled with an 
almost fearful expression, but he made no move to leave Aragorn’s 
embrace, for which the king was grateful.

“I told you earlier this should always be enjoyable for both partners, it can't 
be a one-way stream, remember? And I would certainly never do anything 
that would hurt you. You know you can always say 'no' if there's anything 
you don't like - I won't be upset,” he said sincerely, “Will you tell me, from 
now on?”

He received a meek nod in reply, and settled for that. Pulling Faramir closer, 
he gave him what others had called his ‘naughty smile’ and hoped it would 
work on Faramir as well as it had often worked on those others.

“Then should I assume from your earlier reaction that you do not like this 
preparation method or should we try that again before we reach any final 
conclusions?” he asked in a half teasing tone.

“No!” Faramir said softly but emphatically, moving away from Aragorn 
slightly. His ‘naughty smile’ wasn’t going to work on Faramir, the king 
realised quietly.

“No?” he responded, “You didn’t like it?”

“No!” Faramir retorted with a little more force this time, “It’s too 
undignified for you. A king shouldn’t have to stoop to that for his subjects!”

“I think that’s for the king to decide,” Aragorn countered, “And besides I 
didn’t know you thought of me as just your king here. I thought I was more 
than that to you,” he said.

The little fire that had developed in Faramir promptly fled at that, “You are 
more than that to me, Sire!” he said frantically, “But – ”

The use of the address didn’t escape Aragorn’s notice but he knew it was 
difficult for Faramir to slip out of an ingrained habit, so he simply sighed 
and pulled him closer yet again, “Then nothing we do between us can ever 
be too undignified.” 

Faramir bit his lip uncertainly in response.

“Should we try it again?” Aragorn suggested. He truly wanted Faramir to 
feel the pleasure he knew he could give him, if he would only let him.

There was a pause before Faramir glanced doubtfully at him and finally 
gave a very tiny nod.

Aragorn smiled and after kissing Faramir lightly on his bruise again, gently 
laid him back on his stomach. Faramir automatically spread his legs out, yet 
Aragorn couldn’t miss the tension that marked his entire body. The slender 
back was rigid, and every muscle seemed to stand out, the arms and legs lay 
spread out stiffly, and the discomfort was evident on Faramir’s face.

Sighing silently, Aragorn placed his hands on Faramir’s backside, and the 
tenseness seemed to increase. Making up his mind rapidly, Aragorn simply 
placed a light kiss in the hollow at the base of Faramir’s rigid spine. The 
younger man’s face turned towards Aragorn, confusion writ clearly on his 
features. Aragorn smiled gently at him, and then placed another kiss on his 
spine right above the spot where he’d kissed him previously, then another 
above that and another till he’d trailed all the way up the tense backbone, 
interspersing the feather-light kisses with tiny licks. Faramir’s tension eased 
somewhat, though the confusion remained on his face. Aragorn placed 
another light kiss between his shoulder blades and then reached over him for 
the oil still on the nightstand. 

Faramir tensed imperceptibly, an involuntary gesture on his part, for in his 
heart he was glad that Aragorn had decided to resort to the oil instead of his 
tongue. 

“It’s alright, Faramir, please don’t worry,” Aragorn said softly.

Faramir nodded dumbly. 

“Would you like it if I were to give you a massage? It will help ease the 
strain I know you felt in your shoulder this afternoon while pulling those 
books off the topmost shelf in my study, and it will soothe me to knead your 
muscles.”

Faramir turned onto his side at that and gaped at him.

Aragorn continued in a soothing tone, “I know we have been making love 
each night but I thought tonight I’d like to just touch you and be close to 
you.”

Faramir nodded again, a little hesitantly this time. 

Aragorn brushed his cheek lightly with his lips and nudged him back onto 
his stomach. Taking a generous amount of the oil, which he noted had a 
sweet smell to it, he began by kneading the muscles between Faramir’s 
shoulders, which he knew would need extra attention. Faramir’s face was 
turned sideways and his eyes were open.

He worked his way slowly down Faramir’s body, noting the gradual 
relaxation in the tense muscles with gratitude, over the upper back, frowning 
slightly at the scars he could still feel there, then onto the lower back, down 
the thighs, even the calves, and finally the buttocks. 

As he kneaded the soft buttocks letting the oil spread over them, the 
wariness lessened very gradually, and after a while Faramir had simply let 
his face rest on his pillow, his eyes half-closed, a smile half-forming on his 
lips, once in a while letting out a soft noise almost like a cat’s purr that made 
Aragorn smile in satisfaction. He returned to knead the shoulders once more, 
before dropping a kiss near Faramir’s ear.

The grey eyes opened and glanced expectantly at the king, who had realised 
that there was still a fair amount of oil left in the bottle. 

“Would you turn over now?” he whispered in Faramir’s ear. 

Faramir complied immediately but not without giving him a confused look. 
Aragorn poured some more of the oil onto his hands.

“Haven’t finished,” Aragorn murmured hoarsely, before laying his hands on 
Faramir’s chest, and gently rotating the heel of his palm. Faramir stared up 
at him silently as Aragorn began running his oily fingers over his chest. As 
the fingers drew a light circle around his nipples however, he gasped softly. 
Aragorn let his fingers flit over the now sensitised nubs before running them 
down each rib. Faramir gasped again. Aragorn set to work on the flat 
stomach next, dipping his index finger into Faramir’s navel. Faramir was 
definitely purring now, he realised with a smile, at least when he wasn’t 
gasping.

He returned to the nipples now, gently rubbing the tips of his fingers over 
them, feeling them harden, just as he felt a hardening sensation in his own 
groin. Glancing down he realised Faramir too was getting aroused now. He 
worked his way down again. Faramir looked flushed now, but he seemed to 
be enjoying himself, Aragorn thought as his steward smiled shyly at him 
through half-closed eyes.

He stopped as he reached the lower belly and then reached for Faramir’s 
arousal. The steward’s eyes flew open and he gasped aloud this time, and let 
loose a hoarse moan. Aragorn felt like groaning himself as he ran his hands 
up and down the thickening shaft feeling it throb under his fingers.

He let go suddenly, inducing a protesting moan but then immediately spread 
himself atop Faramir, grinding his hardness gently against the Steward’s and 
kissed him in the hollow of his neck.

“Aragorn,” the younger man murmured, clutching at the older man’s body 
and pulling it closer. They moved against each other, the rubbing motion 
inducing them to release simultaneously. 

Aragorn collapsed against Faramir when they were done, “Sweet heart,” he 
murmured, lovingly.

“Aragorn,” Faramir murmured softly in response, an almost dreamy smile 
forming on his lips.

Aragorn rolled off him but continued to run still oily fingers down his arm, 
lazily watching Faramir’s eyes flutter close again from the soothing feel. He 
must be exhausted, Aragorn thought to himself. Once Faramir seemed to 
have fallen into a light doze, his lips still curved in a smile, he moved.

“I think, young one, you need cleaning up,” he said affectionately, and rose.

Faramir simply purred in reply, and Aragorn laughed softly as he searched 
in Faramir’s chest for a towel. Finding one, he cleaned himself up rapidly, 
and then came to Faramir’s side. The Steward still laid dozing, lines of 
tiredness beginning to show up on his face, his body glistening lightly from 
the oil, his stomach covered with the traces of their combined release. 
Aragorn thought he’d never seen a more attractive sight.

“My sweetling,” he whispered softly, as he began cleaning up the younger 
man.

Faramir fell asleep shortly after that but Aragorn stayed awake, gently 
running his fingers through Faramir’s sweat dampened hair having noticed 
that the movement seemed to calm the younger man. 

He needed to be careful with Faramir, he realised yet again. 

He’d been through far too much at too young an age. And yet, when it came 
to such matters as receiving a little pleasure himself he knew so little. Had 
he even been kissed properly, Aragorn wondered, as he traced his fingers 
lightly over the slightly open lips. He doubted it.

***

Aragorn awoke before Faramir the next morning. He opened his eyes to find 
Faramir curled up against him, his head resting near Aragorn’s chest. The 
massage would have helped him sleep he realised as he ran gentle fingers 
through the soft hair. Faramir stirred slightly and after a few seconds opened 
his eyes slowly. Seeing Aragorn in front of him, he smiled, but then his 
expression changed a little as though he had remembered something.

“Sire?” he said softly.

“Sweet Faramir,” Aragorn whispered softly, inducing a look of confusion on 
Faramir’s face.

“I- last night – I – “

“I really enjoyed last night,” Aragorn said gently, and pulled Faramir up, 
into his arms, “And you look as appealing this morning.” 

Faramir blushed at that and made to duck his head but Aragorn cupped his 
cheek gently.

“I’d like to kiss you,” he said calmly and covered his lips with his. He felt 
Faramir stiffen a little as he slipped his tongue into the warm mouth. Pulling 
Faramir closer to reassure him, he continued to run his tongue around his 
mouth. Faramir responded, a little awkwardly though and Aragorn knew he 
couldn’t have had many kisses. 

He pulled away gently when he sensed Faramir was about to run out of 
breath but too scared to say it.