Faramir insists on leaving alone
Chapter 11: A Chance for Faramir
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“No Mablung,” Faramir said softly, “I must leave, and I must leave alone.”
“But Captain –“
“You heard him Mablung,” Faramir said almost tiredly, as he began walking along the perimeter of the camp behind the tenst to avoid meeting more men, “He is angered enough with me, and I would not see you hurt on my account.”
“And besides, you are my second-in-command, Mablung and no matter what the lord Steward says I cannot bear to see Gondor or the Ithilien rangers come to harm. You must take care of them. Besides I have known father to rant like this before. He will change his mind in a few days. I will camp nearby until then.”
He was lying through his teeth but Mablung was beginning to look convinced.
“It will just be a few days,” he repeated, although inwardly he laughed bitterly as he said those words.
They were near Denethor’s tents now, “Please Mablung,” Faramir tried again, glancing nervously at Denethor’s tent.
It took some persuading but soon the doughty ranger left and Faramir found himself walking alone past Denethor’s tent. He was so lost in thought trying not to thin of where he could go in the darkness of the forest beyond that he nearly walked into the broad figure of Menelcar, his father’s secretary.
“The Lord Denethor wishes to see you before you leave,” the older man said and without giving Faramir an option dragged him through the tent and shoved him in so that he landed at his father’s feet.
Denethor had just finished eating a quick but hearty meal by the look of things and was gulping down a large portion of wine as he looked down derisively at Faramir.
Faramir rose to his feet unsteadily. He was feeling truly exhausted now and the day’s events were getting to him. He hurt where he’d been spanked but more so he hurt from his father’s words and the callous way he had banished him and now the way he was brought in front of him. But perhaps Denethor was going to reverse his decision.
“I have decided to offer you another chance, well, more of a choice,” Denethor said in cold voice, “You will ride with me to Minas Tirith and we will discuss this there.”
Faramir stared at him in surprise.
Denethor rose and swept past him, “We leave now!”
Faramir mounted the hastily prepared horse in confusion. Some of the soldiers were still milling around and a few of them even came up to him and wished him well, thinking Denethor had forgiven him. Somehow Faramir could not agree with that line of thought. His father had offered him – a choice?
They were not far from the city but it was still nearing dawn when they reached and Faramir was nearly swaying from fatigue as he dismounted. His patrol duties had kept him up the previous night and riding a horse this distance after being thrashed twice in so short a space of time had not really helped his sore bottom.
“Wait in my study,” Denethor told him and so he made his way there and waited. He stayed standing there. He had been made clear once that he was not to sit there without being told to and he had no desire to anger his father further. The room was cold and he shivered slightly but stayed still as he heard footsteps approach.
The door swung open and Denethor walked in wearing a long robe. He stood in front of Faramir and then suddenly yanked him forward pulling him by his collar, letting the tunic rip in the process. His eyes were cold and calculating and his hands cold as they slipped deftly into Faramir’s shirt and onto his torso and down to the waistband of his pants.
“You are a fine looking lad, Faramir, and I too have my desires that would be unsafe to fulfil in the brothels your brother is so fond of frequenting. Agree to quench my desires as and when I wish for it, and I will let you stay on in Gondor. Else you leave this instant,” Denethor said slipping his hands into Faramir’s pants and squeezing his sore buttocks lightly.
What happens next?
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