Title: Crusade Reprise
Author: Arctapus/H-boy
Codes: LOTR, Sequel to Crusade, A/F, Eo/L, GG/E, Challenge, GP-ish
Disclaimer: Tolkien, etc. I merely entertain.
Summary: This story picks up where Crusade left off.
Feedback: Answered.
=0=
At a lakeside in Gondor ...
The sun went down slowly, shadows casting along the ground as the trees closed in around the small cabin of the King. He sat on the bed, staring at the quiet figure of the lord of most of the known world stoking smoldering embers in the fireplace he had lain down by his own hand.
They had embraced, Aragorn holding him for the longest time and then the king had stepped back, staring at him with bleak and sorrow-filled eyes. Without a further word, he had turned and headed back along the path that led along the lake, walking back to the cabin where he was residing.
Faramir had watched him go, pausing uncertainly for a moment before following. He watched as the only person he had ever loved with his whole heart picked up an ax and began to split wood. He rubbed his palms against the soft cotton of his gray tunic and then moved closer, staring at the pale and shuttered face of his lover.
"Aragorn."
For a moment, he didn't look up and then he did gazing at Faramir with an expression of such sadness that Faramir swallowed, his own stomach churning. For a moment, Aragorn just stared at him, all the pain of decades coursing through him and then he turned putting a piece of wood on top of another and splitting it with one smooth and powerful stroke.
Faramir watched him split block after block, then he moved, picking it up and stacking it neatly next to another split pile by the cabin door. The place was neat but plain, nothing to indicate that the owner of its small wooden confines was the most powerful human living in Middle Earth. It had shuttered windows, now open to the warm afternoon breeze gently caressing them.
It looked no bigger than the usual homestead of a small farm holding, a room for eating and sleeping, the lake nearby a place to wash up. Aragorn had built it, therapy for the dull emptiness the made up a portion of his heart. They had lived together for more than a year during their short time together, rough living in caves and rock shelters and the simplicity of that tense but emotionally satisfying time had called to him. Aragorn had found a lake, one glittering in the sunlight of a new spring and words had come to him as he paused watching a loon settle on its dappled surface.
/... I have a vision .../
It came to him, the soft voice whispering in his ear and when it came, he could feel the faint ghost of someone in his arms, a lean and lanky form pressed against his own body. He could feel the sway of that beloved body, arms around his neck, lips next to his own and the soft and wistful words that had never faded even as years came and went.
/... I dream of a time when we can be together and the threat is not upon us .../
What do you see he remembered asking his hands rubbing Faramir's back gently, easing the tension that had never seemed to leave him.
/... a summer's day .../
Aragorn swallowed, moving closer to the water's edge. He stared into the impossibly clear liquid, speckled rocks clear to his eyes, bending and shifting as the water covering them lapped gently at his feet.
/... a summer's day by a lake some place. A summer's day and you and I together, walking along the shore by ourselves .../
Tears burned in his eyes, tears that came to him when no one was near to see. He had buried his grief deeply, the only time it emerged being unguarded moments triggered by some unexpected stimulation, some unprepared reaction to a memory trigger.
"Some day, Faramir, if the world is not lost, perhaps we can find our way to a lake some place, a lake dappled by the sun."
He said it out loud, the words that he had given in response and then he sighed knowing at that moment that this would be the place he would come, the place that was his to remember someone so important that nothing else in his life would ever over take it.
"Aragorn."
He turned, staring at the apparition before him afraid to see too closely the warm blue eyes and the laugh lines that framed them. There wasn't a part of Faramir's face that he hadn't memorized but he was frightened to look lest reality deny him what his mind and eyes told him he saw before him.
The vision came closer, stopping before him, a pale hand touching his face. Aragorn closed his eyes, turning his face to connect somehow with the figure before him and the warmth of the hand that touched him came back to him in his memories. Fingers callused by sword and bow, strength to spare, all of it was so familiar that he moved back withdrawing from the thing that he wanted more than anything.
He turned and paused staring at the chopping block and then turned again, walking to the cabin and entering. Faramir watched him, uncertainty reclaiming him and then he followed hesitantly, entering a spare but elegantly furnished cabin dominated by a bed and a large stone fireplace. Aragorn walked to it, poking at the embers that barely glowed. Faramir watched him and then walked to the bed sitting down on it and crossing his legs before him.
Faramir watched Aragorn's face, the conflict upon its handsome visage passing like storm clouds across a summer sky. He noted his age, the gray in his hair and the silence that was etched in the lines of his face. He was handsome as ever but graver, more serious, the burdens of his life leaving their mark upon him. He sighed and longed to walk to the solemn figure, to take him into his arms and hold him. But he didn't, acutely aware that something barred that intimacy between them as of yet.
"Aragorn ... talk to me please," Faramir whispered his hands clutched nervously together in his lap.
Those same grave eyes turned to him holding his own levelly and then a sigh escaped Aragorn's lips. "I cannot give myself the luxury of thinking that you are truly here. So many times alone have I wished this to be true. I longed for you so completely I thought I would go mad from sorrow."
Faramir sighed, biting his lip. "Aragorn ... I am here. You must believe."
"So it would seem," Aragorn replied. He rose and stared at Faramir, his eyes roving over the unchanged and ageless form of his one true love. It didn't seem possible that the world could hold such mercy at this time in his life. He refused to acknowledge it no matter how much he longed to do just that.
Faramir rose and walked to him, pausing before Aragorn. He took the King's hand, squeezing it gently and then brought it to his lips. He kissed it softly and sighed. "You do not believe that I stand before you but I do. Touch me, my Lord, and let me show you that I am truly here."
"I cannot," Aragorn whispered turning his gaze away from the gentle blue eyes that looked at him with such intensity that he felt himself crumble inside. "You won't truly be here and when I come to my senses, the pain will be more than I can bear. It is always so."
Aragorn turned away but paused caught by Faramir's grip. The younger man stepped around him and pressed his lips against Aragorn's, the soft sweetness of his mouth stilling the King completely. He pressed closer, slipping his arms around Aragorn's neck and after what seemed an eternity was rewarded by strong arms encircling his waist.
A soft groan broke the silence as Aragorn kissed Faramir back, falling away into a need that was so powerful he felt painfully the impact of his own hopeless desperation. He pulled Faramir into his body, crushing his mouth with his own desire until he felt himself light headed with breathlessness. Breaking the kiss, he stared at his lover, hope warring with fear in his heart.
"You cannot be here," he whispered huskily his arms tightening around Faramir's waist. "It would be too much to hope that the world could grant me this much mercy."
Faramir smiled slightly kissing Aragorn's cheek. "I am here. You have tasted my lips. Do they not feel real?"
"They do," Aragorn replied pulling Faramir into his arms with an almost brutal need. "But they have before."
"This time it's true," Faramir whispered wrapping himself around the body of his lover. "Feel me. I am truly here, Aragorn. I promise you."
"Your words," Aragorn replied swallowing around the lump in his throat. "I remember your words."
Faramir smiled and looked at him nodding slightly. "Then I am glad."
Aragorn stared at his lover, at the apparition that he held in his arms and it all fell away, the fear and disbelief, the loneliness and the sadness. Moving slowly and then with gathering urgency he pulled Faramir with him until they fell onto the bed, moving swiftly to cover the younger man lest he fade and it all be just a dream.
Staring down into Faramir's eyes, he sighed memories of other times filling his mind. Then he leaned down and kissed Faramir, shifting gently as he overpowered the dream creature in his arms. Long legs moved, spreading as strong thighs moved to grip him holding Aragorn tightly.
Faramir sighed and licked his lips, shifting to pull his lover even closer to him. He opened his mouth to speak but strong and callused fingers stilled him, then soft lips nuzzled his own gently.
"Do not speak," Aragorn whispered. "Just love me. Don't break the illusion. I cannot bear this not to be real between us, Faramir."
Faramir stared at the anguished eyes that bore into his own, holding them with their neediness. Then he nodded and sighed as soft lips found his neck and a strong hand pulled at the shirt that covered his chest. It was silent in the cabin as the sun departed for another day, leaving behind the silence of night in a wooded glade.
*********Years before ...
The wedding had been glittering, an almost forgotten possibility in the battered and brutalized world left behind by the destruction of the One Ring. Minas Tirith had been the place where it had happened, the influx of greatness for this uniting and healing event almost unheard of in the memory of most of those gathering.
Elf kings and queens, lords and ladies of all the peoples of the world and citizens of many lands had gathered drawn by the prophecy of Men and Elves of the great prosperity that was to be had by the joining of two great and ancient Houses of older times and the present day. The gracious and beautiful Evenstar was to wed the Elessar, the Heir of Isildur and the peace of all the world would be thus achieved.
He had met her with a white horse at the dock of the river. She was beautiful in scarlet and gold, her family of such nobility a hush had fallen over the multitudes that had gathered to do homage to the once and future queen of the Reunited Kingdom.
She had descended from a white swan ship followed by her family from the Blessed Lands, an impossibly beautiful figure shimmering with jewels, her long hair plaited and draped in delicately woven braids. She paused before him, this tall, almost mythological figure of a man from days long past, this throwback to the great Kings of Numenor and held out her hand.
He took it and kissed it, holding it in his own rough-hewn hand, willing himself to feel the fire that such a thing once conjured in his heart. But it wasn't there anymore and it never would return but he vowed as he stared into her lovely eyes that she would never know that by any word or deed of his own.
Turning, he held her hand and led her to the white horse, helping her to mount it and gather a handful of long white mane into her delicate hands. A shout rang out and the crowd roared its joy, an almost animalistic convulsion of sound that flowed over and around them like the moaning roar of an animal in pain. He looked at her, at the shining look of joy on her face and smiled slightly turning to walk to his own mount.
Pausing, he met the dark emotional eyes of his foster father, Lord Elrond, himself mounted and waiting to leave. Aragorn sighed and smiled slightly nodding and mounting easily. Then he turned, moved to sit beside Arwen and take the approval of the crowd. Behind them in gilded carriages or on horses of incredible beauty the members of her party moved to follow as slowly they wend their way back to the White City shimmering in the morning sun nearby.
The green trees rustled in the warm breeze of the spring day, the sky achingly blue overhead. People threw flowers and followed their happiness almost visceral, a contrast to his own muted sensibilities. She smiled at him and he smiled back, watching as she turned to accept roses from a future subject. They paused and then continued, two people drawn together by birth and destiny, two people who would by this moment in time bind the world together as it should have been from the beginning.
Elrond rode beside his wife, his sons behind him. Following in order of importance behind the father and mother of the bride came kings and queens of Arda and Middle Earth, the grandparents, Celeborn and Galadriel, the High King of the Noldor, Gil-galad of Lindon and those of Elrond's house, the grandsires and mothers of his own distinguished line.
Cirdan and Glorfindel, Thranduil and his family, glittering and wondrously beautiful men and women of the most noble Houses of the Eldar followed on mounts befitting their status. Along with them, glittering in their armor rode men of the Citadel and Edoras providing an escort of honor.
People followed, the procession making for the white city where flying from the citadel were the banners of great houses. The White Horse of Rohan, the White Tree of Gondor and among them the many banners of the Eldar lords as well. They paused by the gate, where Arwen was welcomed by the Last Steward and First Minister of the King, Lord Boromir. Beside him, gracious and beautiful Prince Imrahil and his Knights bid her welcome as well.
Among shouts of delight and gladness, they continued within, petals of flowers raining down on their heads from the houses and ramparts that composed the city. By the time they reached the Citadel, trumpets were blowing and songs were being sung among the gathering throng.
He pulled up before the door and dismounted, helping Arwen as well and together side-by-side they stood arm-in-arm. The family and their friends, hobbits, elves and men gathered around them and together they entered disappearing into the tower to the shouts of the throng.
By that evening, by the power of the lords of the world, Arwen and Elessar would be wed man and wife. By the morning they would appear on the rampart and show themselves to the crowds, a couple consummated in the eyes of the people and the gods. Even as he stood waving every inch the noble king, Aragorn, son of Arathorn would never give to Arwen of Imladris that which she wanted most.
His heart.
=0=
The following day ...
The morning light filtered through the small round panes of glass that served as windows, building shadows in the corners of the room. The smell of wood burning brought him to his senses and he turned, gazing around in momentary befuddlement.
He was sitting before the fire kneeling and poking at the gathering flames, his face shuttered and his expression unreadable. Faramir raised up on one elbow remembering other times and other moments when this very sight had been his to gaze upon every morning. A hundred campfires, a hundred different days had begun this way. Aragorn was a woodsman, someone more comfortable and at home in the forest than in the great halls of a palace.
It suited Aragorn somehow to do such simple elemental things and for a moment Faramir felt a disconnect with the present as the past that held both of them hostage overtook this moment between them. "Aragorn," he whispered noting a momentary hesitation in the hand of his lover and then nothing more. He sat up and pulled on his trousers and tunic, rising and walking to where the King crouched. He knelt too side-by-side with the one who was the sole source of warmth in his life when he believed his beloved brother was gone for good.
"It's sunny outside but it's cold in here. Why do you suppose that is?" Aragorn turned to gaze at Faramir's face, the beloved visage that had haunted his dreams for more than a quarter of a century.
Faramir sighed. "You are weary and heart-sore. I can imagine that it is cold to you, my brother to be so alone and so sorrow-filled."
Aragorn looked away and sighed. "Perhaps."
"You are not alone now."
Aragorn tossed the stick in his hand into the fire, rising and staring down into its sputtering flames. Faramir rose and stood beside him scrutinizing his face with worry. Then Aragorn turned and stared at Faramir hesitantly placing his hand on Faramir's chest. It felt warm to him, the solid and muscular flesh that had been his last night. He had availed himself of his lover, devouring him with a searing urgency and when the howling of his mind and the hunger of his heart had been quenched he had gathering Faramir into his arms and held him throughout the night fully expecting to be alone again this very morrow.
That it hadn't happened had been disorienting and strangely perplexing. It still wasn't certain to him that this wasn't some terrible illusion, some lingering stab by the Shadow at the one who had done so much to doom Him from the world of Men. Perhaps there was some lingering curse in the world that had sprung on him, taking that which he desired most and holding it before him like a shining bauble ready to be snatched away if he let down his guard. He felt that if he truly believed that this miracle was possible it would evaporate before him like mist.
He slid his hand up Faramir's chest, up his pale neck to his long wavy hair. It was soft and golden, scented of the woods and fields, slightly reddened by the sun. He slid his arm around Faramir's waist and the apparition before him stepped into his body sliding his own strong arms around Aragorn's neck. They stood together, their gazes unwavering and then Faramir leaned forward kissing him softly.
Aragorn felt things fall away inside so desperately did he want to believe but the fear of spells and magic, of retribution and desolation were overpowering. He pulled Faramir tightly against him and kissed his mouth, harshly and demandingly. Faramir moaned and melted into his grip his arms tightening around Aragorn's neck.
"I don't want you to go," Aragorn whispered his breath warm against Faramir's neck. He gripped Faramir painfully tight expecting at any minute to see him disappear.
"I am here. I don't know how to convince you. Last night you and I were together. You and I were one flesh, Aragorn. Do you remember?"
"I do. I remember every moment." Aragorn whispered. He sighed. "I could not have made it through the dark times without you and then I saw you fall. How can it be that you are here? I saw you end."
"I know. I remember." Faramir sighed rubbing his cheek against Aragorn's. "I remember sacrifices, Aragorn. I remember needing you so completely that I was jealous of your friendships. I was jealous of Arwen even though I believed that you would never see her again. I was jealous of all the pleasures you had before I ever met you."
"It was all in ashes when the world fell," Aragorn said rubbing Faramir's back with his hands. He held the younger man tightly, almost fearfully. "It was so cold and empty until you somehow came to me. I don't know how it happened but it did and when you were struck down, when I *saw* you *fall* ... I didn't think I could ever feel anything again."
"I am sorry," Faramir whispered his eyes burning with tears. "I didn't mean to bring you pain. I would never want to do that to you, my Lord."
"You said that," Aragorn said smiling slightly. "You called me Lord."
"You are," Faramir replied smiling. "You are the great good leader of us all, the moral center. I love you, my Lord, my brother. I love and will only ever love you. You saved me from dying of despair."
"And you, me," Aragorn replied pulling Faramir against him. He sighed. "I love and have loved only you all these empty years."
"You have been alone?" Faramir asked not daring to hope further.
It was silent a moment and then Aragorn released Faramir holding him by the arms. "There is much to tell," he whispered. "Walk with me."
Faramir nodded and the two turned stepping out into the fresh morning air. It was warm all ready and the world was filled with the pine scent of trees, the sweet aroma of flowers and the songs of birds everywhere. Turning and taking Faramir's hand Aragorn began down the path that led around the sparkling blue lake before them. They walked a while in silence and then the King sighed."I found this place two years into my marriage."
Faramir swallowed and nodded, his stomach churning. Aragorn glanced at him and sighed.
"It was put to me that the world could be different than envisioned. It would take a sacrifice, however. It would take the wedding of an Elf and a Man to make a new possibility."
"You and Arwen," Faramir posed his gaze downcast.
Aragorn halted and turned fixing emotional eyes upon Faramir. "I had no choice. I am a king and kings have to make sacrifices for the good of their people."
"I understand," Faramir replied. He sighed and reached out touching Aragorn's arm. "You once loved her."
Aragorn turned taking Faramir's face into his hands, looking at him with desperate pleading eyes. "I love only *you*."
"You do not have to explain to me what you did. I had no hold on you."
"You *had* my *heart*," Aragorn replied dropping his hands and turning toward the water. "Sacrifice. It was the last word you said before ... before." He stopped, shaking his head in his turmoil.
"Before I died," Faramir finished.
Aragorn turned, agonized. "Don't *say that word*."
"I am sorry," Faramir said as Aragorn swept him into his arms. They held each other, clinging to each other and when the storm passed, Aragorn turned and stepped away rubbing his face with his hands. "It was impossible, the emptiness. I needed you with me, I had to have your company, your strength."
"My strength," Faramir replied shaking his head. "I was in despair. You were the only safe port in the storm for me, Aragorn. The only one, ever."
Aragorn nodded sighing. "I kept you with me, never letting you go anywhere alone. I couldn't chance losing you. I needed the comfort of your presence. You had no idea how much I needed you with me did you."
Faramir shook his head. "No."
"I did," Aragorn said moving closer. He pulled Faramir into his arms, his hands gripping Faramir's ass tightly. "I had to have you with me."
"I am here now," Faramir replied sighing sadly. "I am sorry for your hurts."
For a while they held each other and then Aragorn turned clasping Faramir's hand. They continued on silently. By the time they were halfway around the lake Aragorn stopped and looked at Faramir. "I married a woman I could no longer love. We had children, a son and three daughters."
Faramir nodded. "I am glad for you."
Aragorn nodded. "I love them dearly. They are my fortune."
"It could never have been so between us. To have children, to leave a legacy, that is worth much."
"You left a legacy. Boromir grieves still for you."
"My brother ... he is well?" Faramir asked his voice catching in his throat.
"Boromir is my Steward and Chief Councilor. He is my friend and my brother, Faramir. He is well. He married Eowyn of Rohan after some number of years. They have a son. They named him Faramir."
Aragorn smiled in spite of himself caressing Faramir's stunned face with his hand.
He nodded and sighed shaking his head. "My whole life. I have missed my whole life."
Aragorn sighed, moving to sit on a rock. For a moment, Faramir stood silently and then he joined Aragorn, the two staring out at the birds bobbing on the blue and shimmering surface of the lake.
"I wished for so much, Aragorn. I missed everything."
"You are here now are you not?" Aragorn asked his voice filled with hope and fearfulness.
Faramir turned and looked at him, nodding. "Yes. I am here."
"Then that is what matters. You are here."
They sat together talking about people and shared memories as Aragorn brought him up to date with the world. By the time the sun was setting, the past had been cleared up and they would return to the cabin with more peace in their hearts than they had before they left it that morning.
**********Years before ...
He paced in the corridor, the sounds behind the door separating him from his wife heavily muffled. Elrond had come from Imladris, others of the family coming from the Havens, Lothlorien and East Lorien. They had gathered for the momentous occasion, the birth of the first child of the King and Queen of the Reunited Kingdom.
Elrond would deliver the child, his healing hands more than up to the challenge of bringing his first grandchild into a loving world of family and friends. Celebrian, now living apart from him with her parents assisted.
In the corner of the corridor where Aragorn paced, Gil-galad sat reading a book. Others gathered around him, friends and relatives, each of them waiting for the good news to come. Legolas and Eomer, along with Gimli had ridden down from Rohan to sit and wait.
The tension of his body was clearly delineated in the short and brisk turns of his pacing back and forth. Eomer, King of Rohan watched him and then glanced at his companion and lover, Legolas of the Wooded Realm. He grinned and rose, walking to where Aragorn paused staring out a window to the sparkling night beyond. Torches of light, signaling the vigil of hundreds of citizens sparkled below them as people waited to hear the news of the birth of a son and heir to the kingdom of their beloved King and Queen.
"You pace well, my brother. I am impressed with your persistence."
Aragorn glanced at him and smiled. "I am King. I am by station required do all things well even if they are frivolous and annoying to others."
Eomer snorted and began a retort when the door opened and Celebrian appeared a radiant smile on her lovely face. She glanced at all of them and gestured for Aragorn, who jolted from his surprise to follow her inside.
The door was ajar and Eomer stood before it, Legolas materializing at his side. The bedroom was filled with female relatives and friends, ladies-in-waiting and other interested parties. Elrond, toweling off his hands stood nearby, a huge smile on his face. Glancing at Aragorn, he watched with pleasure as his son-in-law walked to his daughter and sat beside her on the bed.
He watched the wonder and gratitude on Aragorn's face, the gentle touch of his hand on Arwen's brow. Then Aragorn leaned forward and kissed her tenderly, sitting back to stare at her with emotional eyes. Then Celebrian handed him the greatest treasure of his life, an heir and son, Eldarion of Gondor.
There was no conversation because words weren't necessary as they sat together as a family. Holding his son, Aragorn felt awe fill him as the beautiful child opened his eyes to look at his father for the very first time. Blond hair, a wisp of softness and dark blue eyes, the mark of his birth. Aragorn was filled with love and pride over the child in his arms and at the woman who had given him this wonderful joy. He looked at Arwen lying on the bed, her eyes closed in weariness and felt more for her at that moment than he had felt in many years.
Friendship and companionship, humor, conversation and affection. These would be the things that they would share over the years that they would be man and wife. They would become close and share many confidences but she would never hear from him about the one most central to his heart.
She would never hear about Faramir.
Ever.