by: Vema
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*'Nonetheless you must leave the Guard of the Citadel, and you must go forth from the city of Minas Tirith.'
Then the blood left Beregond's face, and he was stricken to the heart and bowed his head. But the King said:
'So it must be, for you are appointed to the White Company, the Guard of Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, and you shall be its captain and dwell in Emyn Arnen in honour and peace, and in the service of him for whom you risked all, to save him from death.'
And then Beregond, perceiving the justice and mercy of the King, was glad, and kneeling kissed his hand, and departed in joy and content.*
--"The Return of the King", J. R. R. Tolkien
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The gardens of Minas Tirith were fragrant and dark around Beregond that night, when he walked on the well-worn paths with clamorous emotions inside him. He was filled with a happiness that was still tinged with the horror of what had almost been, and he needed to reflect in this quiet place. He needed time to himself, away from his family and his post, where he could try to explain to himself why he had risked so much – his life, his home, his name – for the new Steward of Gondor.
Entering the circle of the courtyard, he realized it was not to be tonight, for there sat Faramir, on a bench of stone with white flowers about him as a veil of starlight. He looked up as Beregond entered the clearing, his face unreadable in the dim light of the moon. "Forgive my intrusion, sir," Beregond said, halting. "I did not know you would be here. I will take my sanctuary elsewhere."
"No, stay," Faramir called, shifting to make room for Beregond on the bench. "One sanctuary may bear more than one troubled soul and I would not be alone now."
"As you wish, my lord." He sat next to the Steward, feeling his senses overwhelmed by the strong floral scent that permeated the air, an afterthought the lilies would leave of themselves when they were gone in the morning. He looked up to his more visible companion, noting how the lilies seemed to reach up to receive the Steward as though he were one of them in his beauty, which was greater than many men. "If I may ask, what troubles you so that you would take solace here?"
"You may. I was thinking of my father."
Beregond nodded. "I thought as much."
"And also of you."
The words were loud in the thick silence that surrounded them, and Beregond looked up at Faramir, unsure what to say to such an admission. "Me, my lord?" he finally said.
"Yes." That was all the Steward said for a moment, and he bent to examine the flowers nearest him. "And what brings you here, Beregond?"
"I was unable to sleep, for relief that I would be permitted to accompany you to our new home." It was perhaps a bit more honest than he had meant to be, but it was said now and he couldn't take it back.
Faramir smiled at that for a moment, a small smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. "I, too, am relieved at that, though the events that occurred over a month ago are still fresh in my mind."
Feeling his face draining of color, Beregond turned to Faramir, his words swift and desperate. "You must not judge how I will serve you by how I served your father, my lord, for he was not in his right mind at the end, and would have killed you himself."
"I know that, dear Beregond. It is not on that account that my mind is plagued now. It is only that you put yourself in such jeopardy to save me that is troublesome."
There was silence again as the two men regarded each other. Beregond judged his words before they had left his mouth, though he knew it was too late and the Steward had guessed the truth of his actions. "I could not let you die, Lord."
"Why?"
He looked down. "Must you ask?"
"Yes, though you are under no obligation to answer, for I believe I already know what you would say." A hand took Beregond's chin and forced it up, two bright eyes finally showing emotion. "It is no shame."
"I…I don't understand."
"Then I will let this speak for me." Faramir leaned in and brushed his lips gently against Beregond's, and the newly made Captain gasped. His motion to retreat was stopped by Faramir's hand on his head, and all Beregond's awareness centered down on the feel of soft lips pressed against his, the insistent tongue that had taken advantage of his lapse to thrust inside.
This was it. This was what he had been wanting for so long. After a few moments of adjusting to the newness of it, he found his hands resting lightly on Faramir's hips, his own tongue trying to gain dominance. The humidity around them seemed to increase tenfold and his clothes felt confining and uncomfortable.
He wrenched away suddenly. "I am married, Faramir."
"And I am betrothed to the Lady Eowyn. It does not matter. This is different, and I believe they will understand that, though I do not know your wife. I wish for you to spend the night in my chambers with me."
Beregond cupped the other man's cheek gently, silently beholding him for a few moments before taking a deep breath. "You are dear to me, my Lord. I can refuse you nothing, but please do not ask this of me yet."
Faramir nodded in understanding, then stood and took his captain's hand, leading him back to the path. "Then walk with me a while, Beregond."
They strolled quietly for a long time in rhythm with each other, hands clasped and mouths silent. Beregond breathed in the air that seemed less heavy than before, and looked up at the stars through the trees. For the rest of his life he would recall how they were reflected perfectly in Faramir's eyes.
~end
