Their first date is a trip to the blacksmiths

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Chapter 13 - Off to the Blacksmiths[edit]

this page added by Laurelote (laurelote@hotmail.co.uk)


“I know perfectly well how swords are made. I do not need to watch it being done,” said Faramir offhandedly.

“Fair enough, it was only a suggestion. Shame though, the blacksmith normally manages to work much faster when he has customers breathing down his neck,” replied Aragorn, getting up and making to leave.

He could not help thinking that if Faramir was anything like most soldiers, he would feel extremely uncomfortable being unarmed and would therefore do anything if it meant getting a weapon back in his hands any quicker.

Faramir had no interest in going anywhere, especially with Aragorn, but he could not help but feel uneasy at being without a weapon, particularly when there were elves around that clearly did not want him here.

“Oh I suppose I might as well,” Faramir said with a sigh. “It is better than sitting here doing nothing, and I am sure the blacksmith will understand my urgency for wanting a sword as soon as possible.”

They arrived at the blacksmith’s workshop a few minutes later, where a silver haired elf was busy melting a lump of metal in the furnace. The workshop was full of different pieces of metalwork, showing that the elf was highly skilled at his job.

Faramir could not help admiring the weapons and other objects mounted on the walls, they were all so beautifully decorated. He had never really liked carrying a weapon, but he thought that it might not be quite so bad if it looked like any of those on display.

“Which one do you like best?” came a voice behind him.

Startled from his thoughts, Faramir spun round to see Aragorn looking at him with an interested look on his face. Turning back round, he pondered for a while before gesturing at one of the swords, which had a simple geometric design on the hilt.

“This one, the pattern of lines on the handle is very interesting.”

Aragorn walked over, took the sword off the wall and handed it to Faramir. “Try it out and see what you think.”

As Faramir analysed the feel of the sword, Aragorn went over to talk to the blacksmith.

After several minutes of an intense discussion which Faramir did not understand, Aragorn turned back to the young man. “So do you like it?”

“I have never held a better crafted sword,” replied Faramir honestly.

“Then it is yours if you want it.”

“Really?” asked Faramir with a surprised, yet delighted look on his face.

Aragorn was pleased. It was the first same he had got from the Gondorian since they had left Ithilien. “Yes really. Although if you would rather wait for one to be made…”

“No, this one is perfect. Thank you.”

Faramir was still smiling when they left the blacksmiths a while later. He had never owned a new sword before. He was usually given Boromir’s when he received a new one; otherwise he was given a sword whose previous owner had met some painful and unthinkable end.

“Come, let us have a drink before returning to our talan,” said Aragorn, gesturing towards an outdoor seating area where a number of elves were drinking merrily.

“I would really rather not,” replied Faramir looking at the elves. Sword or no sword, he still did not feel comfortable around them. He also could not help but wonder if there was an ulterior motive behind Aragorn’s sudden friendliness.

“Oh come on, they serve some particularly fine elvish wine. You simply have to try it.”

“Alright, I will have one drink,” said Faramir slowly. “And while I do, you can explain why you are being so nice all of a sudden.”

Aragorn gestured for Faramir to sit down before disappearing off and returning a few moments later with two goblets of wine. “I am aware that we did not get off on the right footing, but I am really not that bad. I only want to make your stay here more comfortable. Anyway, it is nice to have someone besides elves for company.”

Faramir took a sip of wine and studied Aragorn closely. He had to admit, that he was very attractive and he was reminded again of the many times he had dreamt of them together.

The wine was good, but strong, and he had eaten little. He knew instantly that agreeing to stay had been a bad idea; he never could tolerate much alcohol. He would just have to drink this very slowly.

Aragorn wanted to get the younger man to open up to him, he had never wanted to lie to him, but there had been no other way to get him to Lorien. “Tell me about your rangers. Do you enjoy being their captain?” he asked, knowing that Faramir was very fond of all his men and enjoyed talking about them.

The plan worked, and Faramir was instantly more at ease as he started talking about life back home in Ithilien. He spoke of Malbung and Damrod, and the tricks some of the younger men played on each other, before talk turned onto his brother, Boromir.

Aragorn could see instantly that despite Faramir’s dislike at always being second best and being constantly compared to him, he was immensely proud of his older brother.

Feeling much more relaxed, Faramir had forgotten his original concerns about drinking too fast and cursed to himself when he found that he had finished off his wine much quicker than was good for him.

“Would you like some more?” asked Aragorn seeing the empty cup.





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