Um I have nothing to say except that this starts in Faramir's dream, and there is no elvish so that about sums it up!

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"You have taken this too far young Steward" came the eerie voice, and Faramir fell to the ground face first, moisture clinging to his skin.

He was in the silvery forest again, except this time it was raining, a sickly looking black rain. Faramir shuddered, but then Aragorn and the raven-haired elf walked out of the trees, hand in hand.

Instead of calling to Aragorn right away Faramir followed them, as quietly as he possibly could, but that wasn't enough. The elf turned around and hissed at him, blood flecking her mutilated lips.

"He belongs to me now," she hissed, and at this color started to drain from her face. Black hair changed to golden silk and grotesque features turned to the soft stoic ones of a male elf. He was beautiful, but he had only one flaw, he was dead. Silvery blood was leaking out of a stomach wound, and it appeared to be self-inflicted. Shaking violently Faramir turned his head to the sky as a loud horn sounded. He paled knowing exactly what it meant.

"Why is this happening?" he screamed, while holding the blonde elf's head in his arms. "Why?"

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"Why?" Faramir yelled in his sleep, tossing and turning, his eyes screwed shut.

"Faramir!" said Aragorn, trying to wake him. "Wake up Faramir!"

Faramir's eyes flew open and he looked at Aragorn, his eyes full of fear. With a soft cry he threw himself at Aragorn, sobbing into his shoulder.

"It's alright," murmured Aragorn, thinking about how much he had been doing this lately.

Finally when he seemed to have calmed down significantly Aragorn ventured to ask, "What were you dreaming about that made you cry out like that?"

Faramir bit his lip. What words could express the terror he felt when he saw the face of the raven-haired elf, or when he heard the Horn of Gondor, while holding a dead elf in his arms.

"If you don't want to tell me that is alright," said Aragorn, rubbing Faramir's muscled back gently.

"Don't lie to me," replied Faramir, and Aragorn looked down at his feet guiltily. "Don't worry, when I am ready I will tell you."

This statement was rewarded with soft feather light kisses over his face and neck.

"I think it is safe for us to leave now," said Aragorn, as Faramir tried to pull him closer, silently begging for more.

"Yeah I guess," said Faramr, almost reluctantly.

"Don't despair lovely one," said Aragorn cupping Faramir's chin in his hand. "There will be plenty of time for that when we get to Rivendell." He winked at him before pulling on his shirt.

Smiling inwardly Faramir followed suit as Aragorn poured water over the fire, as embers were still glowing brightly.

When they exited the cave the sunlight blinded him briefly, but he followed Aragorn through the trees, bird song floating in the crisp morning air.

Aragorn chuckled at the look on his face. "You like my home nay?"

"Yes, very much so," said Faramir, shaking dew soaked hair out of his face.

Aragorn chuckled again saying, "Your eye is caught by pretty things."

Faramir smiled, catching the subtle hints in this statement.

"I can't find anything in Minas Tirith that compares with the rare beauty I find here," he whispered in his ear, ever so softly licking the lobe.

He felt Aragorn shudder, and pulled away. He stared into his eyes, but instead of finding desire and love he found fear.

"What's wrong?" he asked, gently stoking his cheek.

"You….you live in the white city?" asked Aragorn.

"Yes…why?"

"Nothing," replied Aragorn quickly, distracting Faramir by kissing him hard.

This seemed to work for when he suggested that they continue Faramir didn't object.

Relief coursed through Aragorn, but he knew that he couldn't keep his true heritage secret for long.

Why couldn't I see this before? he asked himself. I saw everything else. But we will worry about this later.

And so the two lovers walked into Rivendell, where three elves waited for them.