Disclaimer: not mine, don't sue
The battle was over but the losses were great.
Stains of blood remained everywhere, on the grimy, broken stone walls, on the gaunt, haunted faces of men, on swords forever tainted with the blood shed that night.
A slight drizzle continued to fall gently, as if cleansing the site of the reckless hatred that had pervaded the air, the very pores of the opponents that night.
Standing atop the stone walls, Faramir surveyed the scene of devastation, feeling a twinge of doubt as to whether his decision to help had been the correct one. True, they had prevailed but was the cost too great? Was such a victory worthy of celebrating?
"It was necessary," A voice seemed to answer his thoughts as a comforting hand petted his shoulder.
Wincing slightly at the pain that shot through his bruised and abused body, Faramir managed to crack a grim smile at Aragorn.
"You look like how I feel," Faramir jested, as he took in the sight of Aragorn, his black hair limp and stringy, his face covered with smudges of dirt and blood. As for his armor, it was dented and almost completely camouflaged with mud and the blood of their assailants.
"You look worse than how I feel," Aragorn countered, his eyes melancholy but holding a glimmer of hope. Now that this battle was won, they had hope at least, hope they needed if they were to have any chance of defeating their greatest and most powerful enemy of all in the forthcoming battle.
Faramir grinned tiredly as he fingered his lank blonde hair which he surmised was now a lovely shade of mud-brown and reddish-black tint, courtesy of the Uruk-hai he had slaughtered.
Almost unconsciously, he turned towards a sudden ripple of appreciative, awed murmurs that rose behind them.
Stunned by the vision that had materialized before his eyes, he could only stand there like a statue next to Aragorn, mesmerized by the figure that seemed to radiate a soft glow, accentuated by the grime and gloom around him.
Pristine and pure, the figure was the only untarnished jewel among all these bone-weary, battle-accustomed souls
He was exquisite… and Faramir could feel himself, his soul irresistibly drawn towards this flawless, ethereal being.
Hair spun of shimmering gold fluttered in the slight breeze, as two delicate braids framed the pale, breathtakingly beautiful face.
As a hand swiftly, gracefully tucked a braid behind a delectably pointed ear, Faramir was even more spellbound. Never in his life had he even envisioned that pointed ears could be so unbelievably sexy.
An elf. A voice broke into his thoughts as he remembered the stories he had heard when he was a little boy.
The heavenly beings that grace Middle Earth.
"Legolas. Faramir." Aragorn introduced the two as Legolas stepped up next to them.
Faramir tried to revive his brain cells as Legolas's face broke into a breathtakingly beautiful smile.
Holding out his hand, Faramir felt oddly ashamed as his grimy hand tarnished the soft, unsullied hand of the elf.
Legolas muttered a greeting absentmindedly as his eyes fell on Aragorn. Placing a hesitant hand on Aragon's arm, he moved closer towards the man.
"Are you hurt?" He asked worriedly, his eyes appraising Aragorn swiftly, checking for injuries.
"Just a few bruises," Aragorn reassured him. Placing a comforting hand over Legolas's, he stared silently into Legolas's concerned, sparkling violet eyes for a moment.
The moment seemed to stretch into eternity for the couple and Faramir who was still enchanted by the elf. However, seeing the obvious bond between Aragorn and Legolas, a coil of despair began to writhe inside him, the disappointment startlingly deep and painful considering the fact that he had only set eyes on the elf barely seconds before.
Trying to prevent his features from betraying his emotions, Faramir hastily murmured an excuse and hurried away, stealing one last longing glance at Legolas.
The couple barely acknowledged Faramir's absence, too caught up in the heady exhilaration of just touching each other, allowing themselves the pleasure of forgetting about the vile war that was surrounding them and just savoring each other's presence.
"I've missed you," Aragorn finally uttered, smiling softly as he gently stroked Legolas's silky hair.
"I never left you," Legolas whispered, leaning into Aragorn's touch. "And I never will."