Disclaimer: Not mine, borrowing from Prof etc. . .
Thanks: as ever to Raksha that Demon and athelas63
Author's Notes: Clairon's bash at slash!
Thanks for all the reviews and kind words. The vision of Faramir naked, in chains seems to have stimulated much debate . . . I wonder why? Anyway here is the final part of this story; where the repressed Brit in me really comes to the fore!
Again, adult themes are discussed here and relationships between men. If you don't like the thought of it please do not read. I do not wish to offend.
Part 2 – Disclosure"Not to love is not to live,
Not to live is to feel no pain,
Unlock this heart of mine,
Show me the ways of mystery,
In the places where they say,
Only the brave can walk alone."
R MacDonald and C MacDonald
Minas Ithil
YEAR 82 (Fourth Age)
"Then how did you find the strength to turn from it, Faramir?"
"Strength?" Faramir whispered bleakly. "It was never that. Fear and guilt maybe . . ."
Aragorn glanced out of the window. All trace of the day had left the sky. He could see only the inhospitable blackness of the night. It was bleak and unwelcoming, matching the King's mood as he sensed the doom ahead.
"I have only ever really loved three people in my life before Tobir," Faramir said softly.
"Hush, Faramir," Aragorn fussed, trying to allay the dread he felt. "You have not the strength for this now. Rest awhile."
But the Steward shook his head. "My strength is left now only for confession."
Aragorn gripped his friend's hand more tightly. "Still you do not have to do this."
Faramir's eyes were bright in the lamplight. "But I do, Sire," he said. "I promised I would tell you and I owe you this now; for it is all I can give you."
"You have given enough all ready," Aragorn argued.
"Please." Faramir's eyes widened.
The sense of the past was so strong that Aragorn found himself once more contemplating the events of long ago. After his vision and experience with Faramir, Aragorn had described it all to Arwen, as he did with all matters of the heart. His wife had postulated that Faramir had suffered so much and his wounds were still raw; he may need time to come to terms with his feelings. She too had sensed the passions deep within the troubled young man and she did not believe that any mortal could contain such emotion for long. Aragorn had agreed with this assessment and waited patiently for a sign that Faramir's poise and self control was threatening to break.
The years past and both men became most engaged with governing the Kingdom. Aragorn however did not neglect his watch over the Steward and he slowly began to see that the conclusion he desired would never be achieved.
Faramir used all of his zeal in the rebuilding of Minas Tirith and Osgiliath and later still, the even greater work of Minas Ithil. There was nothing left for his personal desires – he gave of himself completely and utterly. But that did not mean he was happy; he staggered through a loveless marriage and beget the heir to the Stewardship as was his duty. But he rarely spent time with his wife, when he did so it was for the benefit of his children. His life was spent instead between the great cities of Gondor. And Aragorn grieved, that two people that he cared deeply for, could not find the happiness in each other that they deserved. After Eowyn's death Faramir never returned to the home they should have shared in Emyn Arnen. Instead he moved into apartments in Minas Ithil, leaving the beautiful mansion for Elboron and his family. The Steward considered it no great loss and hoped his son could find the pleasure there that had eluded him.
Throughout his life Lord Faramir was loved generously by the people but Aragorn believed such remote esteem was never enough to fulfil his Steward's personal want. Faramir lived hidden behind his emotional walls and never acknowledged his need. Quite simply the youngest son of Denethor sacrificed his own happiness for the greater good of Gondor.
Now, after all those years of waiting, Aragorn knew that Faramir needed to explain his selfless choice to his King. For, though he had fulfilled his duty to Gondor, Aragorn believed that Faramir still suffered pangs of guilt that he had refused his King all those years before.
Pulling himself back to this darkened room, his hand still holding Faramir's lifeless one before him, Aragorn sensed the weight of the past as an oppressive presence on the air. Shadows of old hurt and repressed passion lingered in the gloom and seemed to threaten to step forth and smother them both. There was danger here. Aragorn did not wish to hear what Faramir would disclose, for he knew it would be drenched in pain. Still, he realised he had neither the strength nor the will to deny his Steward his final request. He nodded, fighting back the warning fear that shivered deep in his heart and said only, "Stop when you feel tired."
Faramir closed his beseeching eyes then and pushed his head back into the soft pillows. He sighed deeply. "Three there have been; Boromir was first, whom I loved as my blessed brother; he was the golden idol of my youth and the very man I wished to be. And you my King, whom I love in a far more base though in the end no less chaste way. I burn for you, still. But there was another, one who I allowed to touch me as no other ever has. Long ago when the world was so very different . . ." His voice took on a dream like quality as he carried on.
"I had just passed out of the Academy and I thought that at last I had done something to make my father proud. But he reacted as coldly to me as he ever had. Boromir was away so, yet again, I had no one to witness my success. Achievements only matter when you can share them. I went to the passing out party. I should not have gone but I was so achingly lonely that it was a physical pain deep inside me. I stood alone, on the edge of the gathering, as ever, and then I noticed him staring at me . . .Rion. He was in the same year as me but we were not friends, acquaintances but not friends. I had no friends. It is in the stare, is it not, Aragorn? That is how you know each other?"
Aragorn smiled wistfully as those bottomless blue eyes opened again to blaze at him. "Yes, Faramir that is how we know."
"No one had ever looked at me in that way before. I felt dangerously exposed but also somehow elated. As if all my life I had missed something that now was blindingly obvious. The empty pain within me changed to a deep longing that I needed fulfilled. Neither women nor men had interested me up until that point. I had just assumed I would marry whomever my father told me and produce heirs to the glory of Gondor. But when Rion looked at me I knew that such a future would never make me happy nor would it fill the dark gapping hole inside me. "
"Rion left the gathering, casting a look over his shoulder, spearing me with that stare and I followed him through the gardens to some breathless point. He knelt before me and . . ." Faramir's eyes were closed again his face lost in the memory of the moment. "I could not believe that one man could bring another such pleasure. I had read of it in books of course but that did not prepare me. In my foolishness and youth I likened the wave building inside me to that which crashed over Numenor which I had often suffered in my dreams. But this was no nightmare; 'twas a lovely wave that brought only pleasure to my tormented existence. Rion was touching and licking in places so intimate and my legs were giving way. I felt sure I would lose myself forever in the wondrous sensation . . ."
Faramir stopped and drew in a long ragged breath. He began to cough, gruff aching sounds which seemed to rattle through his numb, useless body. Aragorn fumbled for the handkerchief in the pouch on his belt. He held it to Faramir's mouth and was not surprised to see its bleached whiteness coloured by the violent blood that Faramir choked up. Moving his position from the stool at the bed side, Aragorn lowered himself on to the bed beside his Steward. He wrapped his arm around Faramir's shuddering shoulders and held him close, waiting for the spasm to pass.
It took long moments before Faramir had regained the breath to continue but when he did so he took up his story immediately, his voice raw. "He seduced me, physically of course but emotionally also. I was eighteen years old and had never been touched; never even realised that such passion could exist. I do believe it did not matter that he was a man, what was important to me was that Rion treated me with respect, with love. In his arms I was not the Steward's second son, nor Boromir's little brother, nor a too serious newly promoted lieutenant, I simply was. He told me I was special, that I was beautiful and valuable; such concepts had never been uttered to me before. He said I deserved to be loved. . ."
Faramir stopped talking, his eyes focused on the middle distance.
"What happened, Faramir?" Aragorn probed sympathetically after a few moments of pause.
"I was bedazzled by his attention, awed by him. The night before he was due to leave for his first posting we had dinner together and afterward we were to . . ." He hesitated and swallowed hard before continuing. "For we had only boyishly fumbled previously and he said he would be gentle. He brought some sweet scented oil from Rhun that he said was all the fashion in the barracks. And I was so scared and yet so excited. My head told me it was wrong but my bruised heart could not forego the tenderness it had been promised. He rented a room down on the third circle. It was an enjoyable night and then we went through to the bed and . . ."
Faramir stopped and coughed once more, Aragorn gently wiping away the blood again. After the seizure stilled Faramir's eyes lifted to rest on Aragorn who patiently waited, displaying none of the emotion that the tragic story brought him.
"To spare you the sordid detail; Rion took me to bed." Faramir's chuckle was hard as iron. "He played me like a musical instrument, it was glorious. Imagine my surprise as I opened my eyes at the point of ecstasy and beheld my father. The Lord Denethor regarded his abnormal son with that cold loveless look he saved particularly for me. He had an uncanny ability even then to know everything that went on in his City."
"And?"
"He quite put me off my stride, so to speak," Faramir snorted with customary understatement which did not quite manage to cover the lingering hurt that had scarred him and tainted his life ever since.
Aragorn closed his eyes as the awful scene played across his mind. For a person as gentle as Faramir to be revealed in such a way and by his own father; it beggared belief! The King could tell from the pained expression on Faramir's face that this was not the end of his brutal tale; this was not the final disclosure. Aragorn shifted position and belatedly reached out to pick up the glass of water from the side of the bed. Gently he eased Faramir's head forward, holding the glass to his Steward's lips. Faramir drank deeply.
"You do not have to tell me more," Aragorn said, replacing the glass. He was shocked by the story but not surprised, his own research had made him suspect that some incident involving his father had caused Faramir to build his inner walls high and retreat behind them.
Faramir licked his lips. "He looked at me for what seemed like a lifetime with eyes frozen so cold they extinguished all passion, all pleasure," he continued, as if he had not heard his King. "And then he simply turned on his heel and left. The next day he gave me a lecture on unacceptable behaviour and how I must quell my aberrant instincts for the good of Gondor. And I, little fool that I was, congratulated myself that I had escaped a terrible situation relatively lightly. I even began to believe that he may have forgiven me because he understood how incredibly lonely I was." The chill, metallic chuckle again. "But I had misjudged father very badly. I never could see into his heart, not in the way I could other men."
"I should have known he would make sure I learned the lesson. And that the delay of almost a month would make his lethal blow all the more effective."
Faramir paused as if steeling himself for one last effort. "He asked me to attend Council at his side one morning, something he never had done in the past; it was only much later when I became Captain of the Rangers that he let me attend by right. I was awed and amazed that he gave me the honour. There had been much fighting on the eastern banks of the Anduin for two weeks previously. My father said to honour the dead I should read out the names of the noble men of Gondor who had fallen. I had never attended Council before let alone been given leave to speak, and I thought he gave me a weighty honour, thus I began the roll with as strong a voice as I could. I was halfway through the list when my eyes ran on to the next name. . ."
The violent coughing started again and Aragorn's fear for his Steward increased as his body quaked in rasping convulsions. There was nothing the helpless King could do however, except hold Faramir until the fit subsided. Aragorn suspected that this seizure had been brought on by the raw tension Faramir still remembered from all those years before. When Faramir recovered enough to continue in a rapidly weakening voice, his words proved the King's suspicions.
"My stomach tightened, my legs went weak and my voice died in my throat. All else in the room faded; there was suddenly only my father's eye on me, cool and calculating, waiting for me to fail, to show my weakness. I fought for my composure, I screwed my courage tightly and I forced all emotion away. Something in me shrivelled and died that day, something that I have missed for the rest of my life. I have no doubt my father killed it. But I said Rion, my lover's name, as bravely and as proudly as I could, staring challengingly into my father's eyes. And though the names swam before me I read them all, valiant men of Gondor who deserved more than to have their deaths used in such a contemptible way. At the end there was no acknowledgement from my father he simply moved on to the next item on the agenda and left me to sit through the rest of the Council. There is no place more lonely in the whole of Middle Earth that day; he knew that I had understood his message."
Aragorn was overcome with a wave of compassion. He encircled Faramir in a protective hug, squeezing him tightly. "I am so sorry," he whispered.
"My father's methods were always effective even if sometimes they lacked sensitivity." Faramir mused, resting his head on the King's shoulder. "I wanted you to understand that there has been no strength in my forbearance over the years. It is simply that I learnt as a child what was expected of me and of what I should expect in return. I learnt not to touch, not to expose another to such hurt to satisfy my own selfish desires, for I was of no consequence. My only worth was what I could be for Gondor." He sighed, "But in my dreams you were there. Before I met you I dreamt of the coming of the King and since you saved me, I . . ." Faramir's voice had faded to a whisper and it disappeared completely. He gulped, eyes wide with passionate honesty as he disclosed, "I have loved you always."
As he spoke a single tear rolled out of the corner of his eye and meandered down his pallid cheek. Awed Aragorn reached out and blocked its path with his finger.
"This is the first time I have ever seen you cry, Faramir," he said.
Faramir sniffed and managed a weak smile. "A sign of weakness," he replied ruefully.
"Never that; a sign of the depth of your love. If I could keep this tear close to my heart forever I would." Aragorn brought his fingers to his lips. "Instead I will taste its wonder."
Faramir snorted. "Do you understand now why I said no to you all those years ago even as my soul screamed yes?"
Words failed Aragorn at that point, intense emotions rolled within him; anger, sadness, regret and disbelief. How could Denethor have treated his own son with such cruelty and how had Faramir survived such outrageous behaviour?
"Only the brave can walk the long, weary road you have chosen, Faramir," he said grimly, his lips tight as he fought back his chagrin. "The rest of us lack the courage and the resilience. Though you knew I waited to comfort you, you never sought to ease your journey or take ought for yourself."
"You must not blame my father," Faramir said as he noted the King's expression. "He did what he deemed as right. He saw my weakness and he did what he could to overcome it."
Aragorn took in a long breath. He tried to make his tone gentle as he said, "Even after all these years, my sweet one, you do not understand. What Denethor saw in you was no weakness. I anger that you had to live through such torment and I am humbled by all you have achieved since. It frustrates me to think of how high you could have flown had your wings not been clipped at such a young age."
Faramir's eyes were intense. "It is you who does not understand my King," his voice was soft but with an unmistakeable edge. "I achieved what I did only because I suffered. He gave strength to my wings, he lit the fire in my belly, he planted the need to strive in my heart and he set the courage to endure in my soul. The Lord Denethor created the man I have become and he did it for the same reason I have done all I have. . . for Gondor."
Aragorn smiled sadly, remembering Gandalf's words from long ago. "Your mistress to whom you have remained ever faithful?" He asked as a deeply held guilt flickered in him. For though he was loyal to his Kingdom and his people, Aragorn had never felt the need to stifle and suppress his own personal passions in the way he knew his Steward had.
Faramir's face brightened into a weak grin. He lifted his head slightly as the last flames of intensity in his eyes died. "Yes," he replied softly. "I suppose she is my mistress for no one has touched the place in my heart that I keep for her. I cannot speak false and say I have never wished it to be different. I have. Many times have I prayed to have what other men take as a birthright; love and companionship, happiness and hope but I was not born for such. So I have striven to do what I could for my people and in their success have I found my own contentment. I do believe my father would be proud. It is sufficient."
Aragorn shook his head. "We are all proud of you, Faramir," he said. "It would have been so easy for you to turn to bitterness and despair but to channel your energy into such selfless endeavour so successfully shows the worth of you."
"My own walls are fallen now but she will endure, Aragorn," Faramir's voice was only a whisper. His head slumped slowly down and his eyes were dulled, losing focus as he seemed to fade – his duty done. "That has ever been what is of import. Gondor prospers . . ."
Aragorn leaned in close to hear the words and took his Steward's shivering body to his chest in the close embrace he had long desired. "She does, Faramir," he responded, "And she ever will."
Faramir nodded. "It is sufficient," he whispered once more. "What does my King command?"
"You are the finest servant she ever had, Faramir," Aragorn said. "The walls you built for her never will be breached by another living soul. But she was always an exacting mistress and she wearies you now, give her up. You have freely given and she has taken all you had; let me take her from you, brave warrior. Though it breaks my heart, my Steward, I discharge you from your duty and bid you rest now. Rest and be at peace; no other deserves it as you do."
The King was unsure if Faramir had heard for his eyes closed and he appeared to have fallen asleep, his head resting on Aragorn's shoulder once more as the words were spoken. Aragorn closed his eyes, ran his hand through Faramir's hair and breathed in the scent of sweet honey.
At such a moment Aragorn was completely unprepared for the visions that lurched into his head, as dazzling in their force as the first one had been all those years before. This revelation differed from its predecessor, however, in that instead of being one vivid scene, Aragorn found himself seeing a whole series of events from the past eighty years.
He saw Faramir standing at his side supportively as the High Council of Gondor welcomed their new King for the very first time, an event which had taken place shortly after the coronation. The Council Chamber faded to the intimate surroundings of the Steward's study. Faramir's face pale and worried was before him as they waited together as Eowyn laboured in a close-by chamber to bring their firstborn into the world. Aragorn saw his Steward's face change, pride shining in his eyes, as they received the news that Elboron was born. And he saw Faramir cradling the baby in his arms as he stood on the high walls showing his son the beauty of Minas Tirith before them. The vision lurched once more, this time Aragorn saw his Steward at the gates to the newly re-built city of Osgiliath. Faramir was smiling broadly, his eyes alight with excitement and success. Those same eyes were then shrouded in pain as the scene changed, Faramir stiffened in shock and Aragorn remembered this moment well. His Steward had thrown himself in front of the exposed King to shield him from the assassin's arrow as it flew through the air. The traitorous black shaft protruded from Faramir's shoulder as he fell to the ground at Aragorn's feet. Before Aragorn could react the scene shifted again to the beautiful new university buildings that Faramir had been instrumental in commissioning in Minas Ithil.
The speed of the scenes was increasing and Aragorn felt a dizzy sensation as he was bombarded by the memories of a life; for these were not scenes of what may be in the way the first vision had been. No, these were actual life events that he and Faramir had experienced together. With that realisation, as if the point had been made, memory shifted to a dreamlike sequence.
Aragorn saw masses of prosperous people stretching out before him. He saw daughters and a son, all smiling with love for their father. He saw the Lords of Gondor and their Ladies in the White City that buzzed with commerce and scholarship. The Lords smiled as they received delegations from the East or South, while still more ships bringing unimagined riches docked in Belfalas harbour. He saw ranks of soldiers, those in the forefront were of the White Company and the Rangers of Ithilien but in the distance were men from other companies and indeed from the armies of Gondor's allies. All stood, willing to fight with bows strung and blades bright but their countenances were marked by an irresistible peacefulness. And beyond Aragorn beheld lines of common people; men, women and childrenpicking fruits in the orchards of Ithilien and labouring in the fertile plains of the Pelennor. Every face was marked by the same expression of security and happiness. Every one was gazing with respect and honest love for the Steward of Gondor.
Aragorn sighed softly at the wonder of it, as he did so the vision before him shattered like glass. He was back in the darkened room. He leaned forward to gaze on Faramir's face and he knew by the enigmatic smile that played across the well loved features that his Steward had shared the vision with him once more.
Aragorn understood the message; the price Faramir had paid although high had been worthwhile. He felt light and unburdened as if suddenly free from a long held misconception. The realisation brought him no happiness, however, as he perceived what must happen now he finally understood the choice Faramir had made. This night could end in only one way. Accepting the inevitable, as he knew his dignified Steward had already done; the King leaned back into the pillow and gently rested his own head on Faramir's.
As Aragorn sat with Faramir in his arms, the smile remained on the Steward's pale face but it slowly diminished to grey as the night wore on. Aragorn gently stroked his hair and breathed in that same scent that had enticed him so many years before.
At some point during his vigil, though Aragorn knew not when, Faramir of the House of Hurin, Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien, passed out of the knowledge of this world, departing beyond the veil to be with his illustrious ancestors. The King sat alone and bereft with the body in his arms of the man whom he had loved passionately but purely for over eighty years.
As dawn streaked across the night sky outside, a stifled sob caused Aragorn to lift his head. He saw Elboron and Tobir hugging each other for comfort, standing in the doorway.
"The light has gone out," Elboron whispered sadly as they moved into the room.
"As all lights eventually must, Bron," Aragorn replied, his voice soothingly soft. "But Gondor will bask in the glory of his radiance for generations to come. His duty was done, his story told. He is at peace now and it is well deserved. He would not ask for more."
The two younger men sat beside their King and wept as the enormity of his loss crushed them. . .
. . . but, in the morning, Gondor would call them once more and Aragorn knew they must find the strength to go on. . .
. . . for Faramir.
THE END