Faramir Fiction Archive

Tales from Gondor (R)

23 September 2012 | 36179 words

Title: The View
Author: Minx
Rating: G
Pairing: Aragorn/Faramir
Summary: Faramir would like to watch the sunset

Notes: For the ‘sunset’ prompt on 25fluffyfics.

It was quite chilly when Aragorn stepped out on to the terrace outside the citadel buildings and walked down the long flight of steps that led to the gardens. The Steward sat hunched into himself on a stone bench near the walls, looking out at the view of the Anduin and the forests beyond.

“Faramir,” Aragorn said, his quiet voice breaking into the silence of the gardens.

Faramir started, turned and rose slowly as he saw the king, a slightly guilty expression on his pale face.

“You are supposed to be at tea with the Rhunic prince,” he said. He would have been there too, had he not been ill the last few days.

“I was. But then I decided I’d rather be with you, so I left.”

Faramir frowned, “The prince may not like that.”

“He entered into a very long and tedious discussion with Legolas about the ideal manure for climbing roses. He begged my leave to see our roses while there is still light. So I thought I’d come spend the evening with you instead.”

“It was getting stuffy inside,” Faramir mumbled, and leaned against a tree, folding his hands across his chest, “And the sunset looks beautiful today.”

It certainly did, Aragorn thought quietly. The Anduin glimmered in the evening light, a beautiful shade of golden; the sky above a mix of pale blue and yellow. A flock of river terns swept across the water in a perfect formation, towards the trees on the far side.

“It does indeed,” he said. “It’s cold here,” he added. Faramir wore no cloak.

The younger man made a non-committal sound, and dropped his hands.

Aragorn placed a hand on his forehead. Faramir frowned.

“You are still running a fever,” the king said.

Faramir turned away, his usually sweet and gentle countenance, now sulky. Aragorn stifled a laugh as he observed the pout. Faramir continued to lean against the tree.

“Tired?” the king asked conversationally. From where they stood, the climb to their chambers seemed long and steep.

“No,” Faramir replied rather shortly and leaned a little closer to the tree.

Aragorn sighed and placed his cloak around Faramir’s shoulders.

“Aragorn!”

“It’s cold,” the king repeated calmly, hands still on the younger man’s shoulders, as he turned him to face him, holding the cloak in place, “And you’re unwell.”

“I can look after myself,” Faramir muttered sulkily, “I’ve been a ranger just as you have!”

“Yes, you can. But I’m also going to look after you, whether you like it or not,” Aragorn informed him, “It’s what one does to people one cares greatly about.”

Faramir’s cheeks reddened slightly.

“Would you like to return to the citadel now?” Aragorn suggested gently, “Our chambers have a fine view of the river too. And the dispatches from Rivendell came in today. Elrond has sent us some new books.”

“All right,” Faramir said in a small voice and heaved himself off the tree.

Aragorn pulled him gently into his arms.

“And I’ve asked the kitchens to send some food and warmed honeycakes and that hot spiced berry and milk drink from Harad that you liked so much.”

Faramir sighed and shrugged, moving into the loving embrace, and the soft lips that brushed his briefly. “We should leave soon then,” he murmured, pulling away reluctantly, “Honeycakes don’t taste as nice when they’re cold.”

Aragorn smiled.

Faramir pulled the cloak tight around himself as they ascended the steps, feeling suddenly weary. The stairs hadn’t seemed so many or so steep and uneven on the way down, he thought, feeling suddenly weary. He felt himself stumble over the next step and reached towards the stone handrail for support.

“Aragorn,” he sighed as the king scooped him up gently into his warmth instead.

“It’s a long climb,” Aragorn murmured.

Faramir took a sip of the spiced brew and sighed in pleasure as the warm liquid soothed his sore throat. The terrace outside Aragorn’s bedchamber was small but cosy, suffused with the comfortable golden glow from the lanterns above. Aragorn and he had settled down on a pile of rugs and cushions, with the honeycakes, brew and books. The sun was dipping behind the forests across the river now, and the violet sky looked even more beautiful than earlier. He huddled further into Aragorn’s embrace, pulling the soft quilt to his chin. The king paused his reading of a fine rousing adventure to drop a kiss on Faramir’s head.

The younger man smiled up at him gently. Truth be told, he didn’t quite mind being looked after liked this, sometimes.

“I love you too, Aragorn,” he murmured.

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