Chapter Summary: Aragorn and Faramir promptly deny having any feelings for each other. Silly men.
A/N: The author respectfully requests that nothing be thrown at her as a result of the continual denial Faramir and Aragorn are experiencing. It's their fault, not mine, I swear.

Chapter Eight: Walls

Faramir sighed in annoyance when he heard a polite but firm rapping on the doors to his chambers. Imrahil, who was trying to tie the complicated laces on the back of Faramir's tunic, also sighed.

"Come in," Faramir called out, earning a light shove from Lothiriel, who was trying to lace up his sleeve. Under normal circumstances only male relatives would have been with him now, helping him prepare for thewedding ceremony, but in cases when there were fewer than four living male relatives women were also allowed to help dress the groom and ease his nerves until the bride was ready.

Imrahil and Lothiriel were all Faramir had to boast of, and as such he had been subjected to a fairly constant stream of courtiers trying to make up the difference with loud and insincere condolences about how awful it was that his father and brother couldn't be here for this day, succeeding only in reinforcing their loss in Faramir's heart. He had already carefully arranged his facial features into a pleasant, neutral expression when he turned around and saw Aragorn enter the room.

Faramir managed to maintain his pleasant expression despite the sudden nervous pain in his chest and stomach. But he was afraid his eyes betrayed him. "Good morning, Sire," Faramir said politely, fixing his gaze to a point on the wall over Aragorn's shoulder so he wouldn't have to meet the King's eyes.

"Good morning, Faramir," Aragorn replied. His tone was less cordial than usual, more subdued—or was that just Faramir's mind projecting things? Aragorn opened his mouth again, but no words came out.

Faramir decided to go ahead and save them both any awkward fumbling he could; the coming conversation was going to be difficult enough without an audience. "Imrahil, Lothiriel, could you give us a minute please?" he asked. He tried to make his tone very casual, but even he could hear that there was an edge to it.

Fortunately, rank had its privileges, and when Aragorn smiled it was as though he had made the request himself. Lothiriel abandoned the complicated criss-crossing ties at Faramir's wrists and made for the door without a word. Imrahil gave Faramir's shoulder a little pat before leaving. "Don't be too long," he warned gently as he closed the door behind himself and his daughter.

Faramir found himself completely alone with Aragorn—a situation that had never before displeased him, but now had him ready to break out into a cold sweat. Aragorn took a small step forward, and Faramir had to call upon all his strength to keep from stepping back. "I have something for you," Aragorn said, smiling hesitantly.

"Oh."

Faramir's panic must have come through in his voice, because Aragorn frowned and quickly said, "It's from Arwen." He held out a small green brooch. "It's bad luck to marry—well, in Elven lands, that is, it's bad luck to get married without something from a friend. Something borrowed, I mean. That you wear." Was it Faramir's imagination, or was Aragorn tripping over his own tongue? Aragorn was holding the brooch out, uncertainly. "May I—"

Faramir's face grew hot as he realized Aragorn wanted to pin the brooch on him. "Oh. Yes. Of course." His voice sounded flat and unnatural. He swallowed quickly.

Aragorn frowned and took a slow step forward. Every nerve of Faramir's body was practically screaming with his proximity, and it took an immense effort of will not to back away. He was certain he was blushing all the way to the roots of his hair; his skin felt on fire. Burning couldn't have possibly hurt like this.

Faramir couldn't help a small flinch as the stray thought flashed across his mind. Aragorn froze, interpreting the motion as a response to his presence. "Maybe you had better do it," he acknowledged ruefully, holding the brooch out in front of him.

Faramir swallowed. His first instinct was to explain what had really happened, but he suppressed it, anxious for any excuse to keep Aragorn out of his space. But it was impossible, literally impossible, to take the brooch without their fingers brushing against each other, sending an unwanted thrill through Faramir's spine. He wondered if both their fingers were shaking, or if it was just his. "Thank you," he blurted out as he fumbled with the brooch, realizing he had forgotten to say it before. "I mean, please thank Arwen for me."

Aragorn nodded. "I will." He watched in silence.

Is that all you have to say? Faramir thought, fingers slipping on the clasp. It didn't help that his
ceremonial outfit was still only half-tied together and his sleeves were flopping around with every
motion. He wondered dizzily if Aragorn was expecting another kiss.

"Faramir, we have to talk," Aragorn said suddenly, harshly breaking the silence that had descended between them. He had turned his back to the younger man, for which Faramir was extremely grateful, and was looking out the window, his hands braced on the sides. "I understand that this is a horrible time for us to speak. It's your wedding day, by the Valar. The last thing you need is this kind of a complication. But you and Eowyn are going to be leaving for Dol Amroth, and this is the last chance I have to talk to you before you go. I couldn't let you go without at least trying to explain myself."

Faramir's throat had gone dry. "I—should explain myself, also," he said hesitantly.

Aragorn paused, almost as if hoping Faramir would go on, but when the younger man did not Aragorn spoke again. "I—apologize for what I did last night, Faramir. I didn't mean to do it, but you were....I am—attracted to you, obviously, but I shouldn't have done that. I don't know if you were even fully aware of what I was doing. I acted reprehensibly—I should never have forced you to do that. I hope you can forgive me."

"You didn't force me," Faramir said quickly, horrified at the thought—then he hesitated, embarrassed to go on. His mind had fogged up in confusion and pleasure when Aragorn had said the words "attracted to you," and now he was struggling to process everything Aragorn had said after and come up with a suitable response. "I should apologize I—" Led you on was not quite the phrase he was looking for. "I wasn't even thinking last night. I was so confused, I mean
emotionally, I was just reacting."

Aragorn had turned back from the window, and Faramir was shocked cold by the contortions of guilt on his face. "I know that now. I shouldn't have abused your trust that way. I don't know how you can ever forgive me for taking advantage of you."

"No, Aragorn, it's not like that," Faramir protested. I wanted it too. "I was just trying to explain why I—why I kissed you when I—I can't—"

Mercifully, Aragorn cut him off. "I understand," he said calmly.

Faramir felt relief flood through him, not realizing that his words had been misconstrued as disinterest. What kind of a coward am I—I can't even reach for this thing I want desperately. I feel too vulnerable, and I let that stop me. Still, he was relieved beyond all reason that this chance had fallen away. "I simply can't enter into any kind of relationship right now," he said with a sigh.

Aragorn raised one eyebrow. Cocking his head to one side, he reached forward and lightly touched the dangling laces of Faramir's wedding tunic.

Faramir went cold. But after only a second Aragorn burst out laughing and Faramir, shaky with relief, couldn't help but laugh with him. "What I meant," Faramir said carefully, "is that so much is happening now—I can't be sure of how I will be from day to day, or when the fire is going to affect me. I can't inflict that on anyone else. Or I shouldn't," he added ruefully, looking down at his clothing.

Catching and holding Faramir's eyes for permission, Aragorn took another step forward and lifted Faramir's arm, gently starting to do up the laces Lothiriel had abandoned. "I hope," he said quietly, "that you will still trust me. I hope you will continue to come to me in times of need."

Faramir met his eyes tiredly. "You're a good friend, Aragorn."

Aragorn moved to the ties at the back of Faramir's jacket, effectively hiding the shine of tears forming in his eyes. "That's all I want to be," he lied calmly.