Boromir left the next morning, and even though Faramir wanted nothing more than to cling to his older brother and beg him not to go he knew that it would be pointless. It was Boromir alone that had so far managed to stop Gondor completely falling into ruin under the hand of an insane Steward, and an extended absence may possibly lead their people to that end. So he wrapped himself around the bulkier form of his brother in the early hours of the morning, memorizing the feel of his skin and his smell to help get him through the long nights that were to come.
It had nearly killed him to watch Boromir ride away from Erebor, and then when his bay stallion was finally out of sight, to turn back to the huge Dwarven fortress and try to make the best of his situation. Reaching up he ran his fingers along the braid which Thorin had placed in his hair, a symbol that he now belonged to another though his heart ached for someone else. Though if what the Dwarf King had said was the truth he wasn't the only one who suffered in this way.
"Oh there you are." The voice was feminine and came from further down the battlement, causing Faramir to turn and look in that direction.
Lady Dis, sister of King Thorin, was striding towards him with her skirts swirling around her ankles. She looked so much like her brother that it was frankly terrifying, and if she hadn't been wearing a dress and have a much slimmer frame it would be easy to confuse the two.
"My Lady." He gave a short bow, only to find himself forced to stand upright as she pushed on his shoulders.
"If you are to be Consort to the King of Erebor you need to remember that you don't bow to anyone," she said, patting him gently on the cheek. "Now speaking of my brother he asked me to come and get you to show you to the courting room."
With that she turned and walked down the stairs leading from the battlements into the main gallery of the city, and he had to hurry to catch up with her.
"What exactly is a courting room?" he asked, his longer legs thankfully making it relatively easy to keep up with her faster pace.
"It is the room that you will live in whilst you and Thorin are courting," answered Dis, gesturing at him over her shoulder. "When you are wed you will move into the Consort's apartments."
"Oh," said Faramir, following her as she led him down the corridor into the Royal wing of Erebor. "It all seems very complicated."
Dis stopped outside a pair of huge oak doors set into an enormous stone archway, Faramir didn't even need to ask whose room this was. During the past two days of his betrothal he hadn't really thought about what he had gotten himself into. It was behind these doors that he was expected to spend his wedding night, in the bed of Thorin Oakenshield. If Dwarves were anything like the men of Gondor he would even be expected to spend many a night before the wedding beneath the King.
It wasn't that Faramir was against sharing a bed with his betrothed, he was handsome enough for a Dwarf and since he was nearly three times Faramir's age he could probably teach him a few things. However he had only been with Boromir, and the very idea of anyone else touching him so intimately filled him with dread.
"You have no reason to fear my brother," said Dis, her slim yet calloused hand resting on his elbow. "He will not force himself on you, he knows he has me to answer to if he so much as looks at you the wrong way."
"Thank you." He covered her hand with his own.
She smiled at him.
"Those the Consort's apartments," she said, nodding in the direction of an equally large set of doors further down the corridor. "And these are the new courting rooms."
She walked across the corridor and pressed her hand against a smaller door.
"The new courting rooms?" he asked. "What happened to the old courting rooms?"
Dis's face fell and she looked very sad and tired all of a sudden.
"My brother had them made up many years ago, and now he insists on them being kept that way."
Oh that seemed so incredibly tragic, this great majestic King pining away for his long lost love. It was romantic, the kind of romance that Faramir had read about in the library of Minas Tirith.
"He still has hope then?" he asked.
"His heart does," she answered. "Even though his head knows its useless."
"Are they dead then?" he questioned. "Thorin's lover?"
"No," answered Dis. "Well not as far as we know anyway. No he had to leave because …"
"Because I treated him most heinously." Thorin's voice echoed down the corridor, and they both turned to face him.
"I don't believe that my Lord," said Faramir. "You have shown nothing but kindness to my kinsmen and I."
"I was not myself," said Thorin, the sound of his heavy boots echoing off the stone walls as he approached them. "I called him traitor, gravely hurt him both in body and spirit, and threatened to have him killed should he return."
Faramir pressed his hand against his mouth in shock. "Yet you love him?"
Thorin nodded. "Very much so."
"Dwarves clearly do things differently to us," he said.
"Not as differently as you would think," said Dis.
"Please." Thorin placed a hand on the small of his back, and guided him towards the door. "This is where you will be staying."
Faramir hesitated on the threshold before pushing the door open when Thorin gave him another nod. The room was even more extravagant than his father's rooms back in Minas Tirith, and he found it hard to believe that the Dwarves had managed to get this together in two days.
There was a foyar just beyond the doorway, with a small hearth, three sofa's, and a round table in the corner. Beautiful tapestries lined the walls, and upon closer inspection he saw that they were maps of Middle Earth and scenes from Gondor.
"My Grandfather had these made back in the days when Erebor traded with many other cities, they were hung in the ambassadors rooms which survived the fire. I thought you might like to have something which reminded you of home." Thorin had stepped into the room beside him, and Faramir found himself blinking back tears as he looked at his betrothed. "I know what it is like to be homesick."
"Thank you," whispered Faramir. "You didn't need to do all of this."
Thorin's forehead creased in surprise at this. "You are my betrothed, one day will be my consort and rule Erebor at my side. This is the very least that could be done in the limited time we had, over the course of the next few weeks you will be draped in the all the jewels and finery offered by my Kingdom."
"My Lord…" Faramir couldn't keep the waiver from his voice, shocked at the kindness shown him.
"Thorin," answered the King, stepping close and brushing a tear from Faramir's cheek with the rough pad of his thumb. "We will be spending many years together and I will have you call me by my name, then when time and age has made us comfortable with each other I shall let you call me by the name of my soul."