Faramir tells them of Denethor’s involvement

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Plot by dream_in_a_jar

Written by Iris


“Faramir, Faramir! Can you hear me?” Seeing him slowly return to consciousness, Aragorn lightly tapped Faramir’s cheeks with the back of his hand, hoping to speed the process.

His head was still foggy, the room still spinning, but Faramir’s mind was clear enough to register that he was lying on the king’s bed, and for once, he wasn’t dreaming. The warmth was real, the softness of the covers and mattress so different from his own bed. And the scent! That wonderful herbal-masculine smell he only ever caught a glimpse of. That was certainly never part of his dreams, yet now it was everywhere around him – mixed with a hint of sex, he noted bemused.
Yes, he was most definitely lying in the king’s bed, and – oh! – what’s more, his brother and his king were kneeling on this bed on either side of him, dressed in nothing but light dressing robes.

“Faramir!” Aragorn tried again, “Are you awake?”

He didn’t want to be awake, didn’t want to talk. Just lying here, being the centre of attention in these wonderful surroundings was all too perfect, he didn’t want it to end just yet.

Faramir couldn’t help but moan when Aragorn moved his hands from his forehead to his neck, shoulders and chest, but the sound made Aragorn withdraw his hands as if burnt. Faramir’s eyes flew open at the sudden loss, finding himself staring straight up into his king’s stare. It took a few seconds before he caught himself and turned his face away shyly.

“All these bruises– they’re not just from day before yesterday, when I saw you and Marek in the throne room, are they?” Aragorn asked, tugging at Faramir’s nightshirt to reveal more of the angry marks, “Did he come after you again, even after I told him this deal was off?”

Faramir hesitated. Of course he couldn’t lie to Elessar, but how was he going to explain Marek’s visit to his chambers without also revealing Denethor’s involvement? He would be in enough trouble already if the Steward found out he had not ‘kept out of sight’, as ordered.

He could have kissed his brother for changing the subject.

Boromir had been staring at his brother’s injuries in disbelief for long moments, but when he finally accepted they were there, and they were real, he turned to his lover for answers.

“How can it be that Faramir came to your room last night, with marks like this on him, and you did not notice? You are a healer, are you not?” He didn’t give Aragorn the chance to answer, but continued in an increasingly sharp tone, “And how is it that Marek is still here after you saw him attack my brother? Or that he is here in the first place, after the appalling proposals he has made?”

Boromir had got off the bed and started pacing up and down the room angrily. “From Father I might have expected, no – dreaded, this sort of behaviour, but from you! You would also consider giving Faramir away? And how could you not see his injuries? How can you show so little concern? He’s my brother! I've seen you show more care for stray dogs!”

“Please, love, being angry at me is not going to solve anything right now. Faramir needs care. We can talk about this later.”

Boromir stopped pacing for a moment and regarded the royal bed. While he had been raging, Aragorn had fetched some supplies and was now tending to Faramir’s many cuts and bruises. Seeing the two men on the bed - his little brother obviously in pain, but never complaining; and his lover, his king, tenderly caring for him - Boromir remembered what was important. He was still angry though, but Aragorn was right, he wasn’t the one his anger should be directed at.

“That filthy, scheming bastard Marek!”

“Boromir, please– either help me here or sit down and be quiet. You are making me nervous.” Aragorn turned his back to his lover and faced his patient, “You are making Faramir nervous.”

Either Boromir had not heard or took no notice.

“He ought to be hanged for this! We have laws in this land! He is not in Harad, he can not just do as he pleases!”

“Well then, if you’re not going to be any help, maybe it is better you retire to you chambers.”

“I’ll do you one better than that! I’ll go see father right now and make sure that Marek and all of his entourage leave at first light! I don’t want to see them anymore, and neither should Faramir.”

“No!” Faramir yelped, “he mustn’t know!”

“Who mustn’t know? Marek?” Aragorn asked puzzled.

Faramir bit his lip nervously. Now he’d done it...

“No, you don’t mean Marek, do you? You mean father mustn’t know? Why not? And what shouldn’t we tell him?” Boromir came back to the bed, carefully kneeling next to Faramir again while he warily studied his anxious expression.

“Faramir, does father know Marek attacked you? Did he have anything to do with it?”

Aragorn gasped. He had always known there was little love lost between the Steward and his younger son, but he would have never suspected Denethor would be involved in anything that would inflict this sort of injuries on his own child. Still, Faramir’s lack of denial said enough.

Appalled, he looked over at his lover, who had obviously, for the third time that night, found a new subject for his anger.

Only this time, he was reaching for his sword.

“Boromir, please,” Aragorn tried to reason, “going to Denethor in the middle of the night, sword in hand, can only ever cause more problems, not solve any. Let’s calm down and think about our options first. Faramir could always come with me to Arnor with me, there is always room for a bright–”

Aragorn was interrupted mid-sentence when Boromir slammed the door behind him. He cast one apologetic look at Faramir, mumbled “I have to go after him” while he shimmied into some random garments, and in a matter of seconds he too was out the door.

Now left alone in the royal suite, Faramir’s first instinct was burrow under the covers and not come out anymore for a long time. How could he have been so careless? Father would surely be furious now! Being sent to Harad did not seem so bad right now...

There was only one thing for it. He had to go after them.






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