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Feb. 16th, 2003 03:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
claudia603Okay, 'cause you haven't heard enough from me this weekend....
Title: What Blooms in Ithilien 11/11 COMPLETE!
Author: Claudia
Pairing: Frodo/Faramir
Rating: PG13 up to NC-17 in later chapters
Summary: An ill Frodo is captured by Faramir. Love blooms.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no money from them.
Thanks to all who have enjoyed/reviewed this story! Yay, I finished!!
What Blooms in Ithilien 11
Frodo and Faramir leaned against the curved stone pillars of a balcony that jutted from one of the tallest towers in the city. Faramir’s arm touched Frodo’s just enough to make the hobbit’s stomach quiver. They had finally broken away from their friends and the strangers with good intentions who crowded and clutched at them to express their gratitude to the Ringbearer and to the new Prince of Ithilien. Frodo and Faramir had escaped to the tower and had found this terrace where the hot May sun warmed their faces and a thick blanket, perhaps left behind from an earlier lover’s tryst, cushioned their backsides. If they chose to peer between the pillars, they would be offered a breathtaking view of the seven levels of the White City, the Anduin, and the lands beyond. Though Frodo was not comfortable being so high above ground, he was grateful for time alone with Faramir, far from prying eyes.
Faramir slid his arm around the hobbit’s waist. “Are you happy?”
“I do not know what you mean,” Frodo murmured, leaning into Faramir’s embrace. A shadow passed in front of his eyes. Something that he could not put his finger on had been ripped from his heart after the Ring had been destroyed. Though he wanted nothing more than to answer Faramir with an enthusiastic “Yes!”, the wounds were too raw. And Faramir had not yet, in all their conversations since Frodo had awakened, spoken of his future and whether he intended Frodo to be in it beyond these days of celebration. It was one matter to lie with him far above the city, but quite another to commit to the reality of a lifetime with a wounded hobbit by his side.
“To be here in the sun, laughing about dark times with the one I love…this is what I dreamed of after you left, when I despaired of seeing you again, when I lay in a delirium of evil dreams… You do love me, do you not?” Faramir pushed a stray curl from Frodo’s brow. “Do not say otherwise or you will break the heart of the Prince. And then our new king will be forced to pass judgment on you.”
“I do love you,” Frodo said, and the shadow in front of his eyes scattered, at least for the time being. “If that is what you mean by happy, then I am happy.”
“I want you to be happy with me.” Faramir cupped Frodo’s face in his hands and Frodo closed his eyes, surrendering to moist, insistent warmth on his lips. He was chilled, even in the warm sun, and so weary, yet when Faramir anchored him with such fervor, he could for that moment relinquish the fierce effort it took to get through each day and he could allow new strength to pour into him.
A guard stepped onto the balcony, and he recoiled in embarrassment at the sight of Frodo and Faramir in their embrace. “I beg your pardon…I was but on duty.”
“Wait!” Faramir called, climbing to his feet and walking to the guard. Frodo heard him speak in a soft voice as he handed the guard a bag of gold coins. The guard bowed and left the terrace.
Faramir smiled, snuggling beside Frodo again. “I bid him to make certain nobody else disturbs us this afternoon.”
“Oh,” Frodo breathed, and his heart broke into pleasant pattering. He gave Faramir a teasing smile. “And why might we need the time alone?”
Faramir became sober as he unclasped the brooch at Frodo’s neck. The cloak slid off Frodo’s shoulders, and Frodo forced himself not to shiver. He did not want Faramir to fuss over him.
“You wear too many layers for a lovely spring day in Minas Tirith,” Faramir said. “Too many buttons.” He laughed softly as his large fingers struggled with the hobbit-sized buttons on Frodo’s vest.
“You should talk,” Frodo said, pulling at the knotted leather laces on Faramir’s tunic. Faramir peeled the vest off the hobbit’s shoulders and slid his fingers under the braces. “And I dearly love these silly things!”
Frodo covered his mouth and burst into laughter. The very idea of Faramir dressed hobbit-like in braces made him so weak that he collapsed against the pillars. “I’m certain the king could arrange to have some made for you.”
Faramir slid the braces off Frodo’s shoulders and gently eased him on his back. He hovered over the hobbit on hands and knees, planting soft kisses on his neck. Frodo groaned, letting his head loll, exposing more tender skin on his neck. He reached for Faramir, but the Man stayed just out of reach. As Faramir popped open the buttons on Frodo’s linen shirt, he kissed each newly revealed patch of the hobbit’s chest. When both of Frodo’s nipples were revealed, Faramir’s tongue explored both of the taut red knobs, and Frodo quivered.
“Faramir…” His arousal thickened.
“Shhh, Frodo, we have time.” Faramir’s shirt was half open since Frodo had been unable to finish all the unlacing. “No shadow haunts us now.”
“I’ve waited long enough,” Frodo said, tugging at Faramir’s arms with shocking strength, knocking the Man off balance. He fell on Frodo, knocking the breath from him.
“Are you all right?” Faramir asked, scrambling to ease most of his weight from Frodo.
“Only if you stay,” Frodo said, pulling again at Faramir’s arms.
Faramir eased his weight back on Frodo, stroking his cheeks and kissing him. “You are insatiable.”
Frodo forced his tongue inside Faramir’s parted lips.
The afternoon filled with gasps and grinding warmth, leather lacings tangling with tiny buttons, and muscled thighs straddling slim hips. Hairy feet slid over muscular calves, velvet breeches were yanked down, and Frodo was filled with throbbing heat that emitted gasps of pain that turned quickly to cries of delight as calloused hands clutched soft skin in final need.
***
Frodo lay in a pleasant drowse, his head cushioned by the crook of Faramir’s arm. Faramir’s hand absentmindedly explored Frodo’s bare skin. He frowned when his fingers brushed over the mutilated surface of Frodo’s back, where orc whips had left their permanent mark.
“It burns my heart when I think of all you endured,” he whispered. “You are so strong…I remember how valiantly you endured the poison of the streams of Mordor…would have killed any one of my men–-“
“What of the future?” Frodo could not bear Faramir to sigh over his wounds.
“Do you wish to go home, Frodo, back to your Shire?”
Frodo looked at him, his blue eyes filling with tears. So Faramir did not want him in his future. His chest ached. Somehow he could bear it, as he had everything else. “I have nothing left there,” he finally managed.
“You have no desire to see your home?”
Frodo’s jaw trembled, and he could no longer keep his voice steady. “I do. But…I would rather stay with you.”
Faramir’s eyes softened, but he did not answer.
Frodo let out a shuddering sigh. “It was the Shire I labored to save, even at the end when I was broken inside.” Frodo clutched Faramir’s tunic until his knuckles were pale. “Yes, Faramir, I want to see my home. I wish to see it safe and in full bloom, but I do not think I shall ever live there in peace.”
“You should go home,” Faramir said softly. “Go home and set your mind at ease…put your affairs in order. I will come for you at such time you deem reasonable.” Frodo’s heart leaped in joy, and Faramir continued. “I shall be in Emyn Arnen, in Ithilien.” He managed a small smile. “With naught but Captain Beregond for company.”
“Not Anborn?” Frodo asked, cocking his head teasingly. His heart felt light, and a joyful buzzing filled his ears. Faramir *did* want him. “If he is there, I will be unable to resist coming immediately.”
Faramir shook his head. “I would not have him.”
“He apologized to me, you know,” Frodo said. “The day of the coronation. He looked as though he would have rather been eaten by wargs. I think perhaps Aragorn forced him into it.”
Faramir laughed a little. “The king has placed him on duty in Osgiliath, where he will labor to rebuild that city. We’ll have naught to do with him.”
Frodo blinked, his eyes filling with tears. “You would not miss me while I go home? For it would probably be a year, perhaps longer, before I would see you again.”
“I would miss you to distraction.” Faramir swallowed again. “But I’ve always been told that if you love something, let it go, and if it comes back, it was meant to be.” He kissed Frodo. “You need to go home.”
“No,” Frodo said, clutching Faramir’s hand. “I do not wish to go yet.”
Faramir tried not to look eager, but he failed, and the lightness in his voice filled Frodo’s heart with joy. “If you choose not to go home now, I would not keep you from your home indefinitely. I would take you there in time. After all, I would dearly love to visit this unruly Shire where the one I love grew up.”
“So, it is settled,” Frodo said as the pain over his chest fully dissipated. “I will stay with you.”
Faramir clutched Frodo’s hands. “Yes. Together we shall make Ithilien bloom again.”
Frodo rolled onto his stomach and peered out between the pillars. The sun danced over the pearly white towers, nearly blinding him with silver sparkles that seemed more fit for an Elvish hall of kings than for a city of Men. “What a marvelous view!”
Faramir squeezed Frodo’s hand. “If you look carefully beyond the walls of the city, you can see in the far distance the hills of Emyn Arnen, where your new home will be.”
“My new home,” Frodo repeated happily, and Faramir pulled him into a close embrace.
Despite his bare skin, the usual chill failed to penetrate the warm reverberations of hope and love that danced under his skin.
END
The sort-of, kind-of sequel to this is “Spring in Emyn Arnen,” of which there are 5 chapters already written…
Title: What Blooms in Ithilien 11/11 COMPLETE!
Author: Claudia
Pairing: Frodo/Faramir
Rating: PG13 up to NC-17 in later chapters
Summary: An ill Frodo is captured by Faramir. Love blooms.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no money from them.
Thanks to all who have enjoyed/reviewed this story! Yay, I finished!!
What Blooms in Ithilien 11
Frodo and Faramir leaned against the curved stone pillars of a balcony that jutted from one of the tallest towers in the city. Faramir’s arm touched Frodo’s just enough to make the hobbit’s stomach quiver. They had finally broken away from their friends and the strangers with good intentions who crowded and clutched at them to express their gratitude to the Ringbearer and to the new Prince of Ithilien. Frodo and Faramir had escaped to the tower and had found this terrace where the hot May sun warmed their faces and a thick blanket, perhaps left behind from an earlier lover’s tryst, cushioned their backsides. If they chose to peer between the pillars, they would be offered a breathtaking view of the seven levels of the White City, the Anduin, and the lands beyond. Though Frodo was not comfortable being so high above ground, he was grateful for time alone with Faramir, far from prying eyes.
Faramir slid his arm around the hobbit’s waist. “Are you happy?”
“I do not know what you mean,” Frodo murmured, leaning into Faramir’s embrace. A shadow passed in front of his eyes. Something that he could not put his finger on had been ripped from his heart after the Ring had been destroyed. Though he wanted nothing more than to answer Faramir with an enthusiastic “Yes!”, the wounds were too raw. And Faramir had not yet, in all their conversations since Frodo had awakened, spoken of his future and whether he intended Frodo to be in it beyond these days of celebration. It was one matter to lie with him far above the city, but quite another to commit to the reality of a lifetime with a wounded hobbit by his side.
“To be here in the sun, laughing about dark times with the one I love…this is what I dreamed of after you left, when I despaired of seeing you again, when I lay in a delirium of evil dreams… You do love me, do you not?” Faramir pushed a stray curl from Frodo’s brow. “Do not say otherwise or you will break the heart of the Prince. And then our new king will be forced to pass judgment on you.”
“I do love you,” Frodo said, and the shadow in front of his eyes scattered, at least for the time being. “If that is what you mean by happy, then I am happy.”
“I want you to be happy with me.” Faramir cupped Frodo’s face in his hands and Frodo closed his eyes, surrendering to moist, insistent warmth on his lips. He was chilled, even in the warm sun, and so weary, yet when Faramir anchored him with such fervor, he could for that moment relinquish the fierce effort it took to get through each day and he could allow new strength to pour into him.
A guard stepped onto the balcony, and he recoiled in embarrassment at the sight of Frodo and Faramir in their embrace. “I beg your pardon…I was but on duty.”
“Wait!” Faramir called, climbing to his feet and walking to the guard. Frodo heard him speak in a soft voice as he handed the guard a bag of gold coins. The guard bowed and left the terrace.
Faramir smiled, snuggling beside Frodo again. “I bid him to make certain nobody else disturbs us this afternoon.”
“Oh,” Frodo breathed, and his heart broke into pleasant pattering. He gave Faramir a teasing smile. “And why might we need the time alone?”
Faramir became sober as he unclasped the brooch at Frodo’s neck. The cloak slid off Frodo’s shoulders, and Frodo forced himself not to shiver. He did not want Faramir to fuss over him.
“You wear too many layers for a lovely spring day in Minas Tirith,” Faramir said. “Too many buttons.” He laughed softly as his large fingers struggled with the hobbit-sized buttons on Frodo’s vest.
“You should talk,” Frodo said, pulling at the knotted leather laces on Faramir’s tunic. Faramir peeled the vest off the hobbit’s shoulders and slid his fingers under the braces. “And I dearly love these silly things!”
Frodo covered his mouth and burst into laughter. The very idea of Faramir dressed hobbit-like in braces made him so weak that he collapsed against the pillars. “I’m certain the king could arrange to have some made for you.”
Faramir slid the braces off Frodo’s shoulders and gently eased him on his back. He hovered over the hobbit on hands and knees, planting soft kisses on his neck. Frodo groaned, letting his head loll, exposing more tender skin on his neck. He reached for Faramir, but the Man stayed just out of reach. As Faramir popped open the buttons on Frodo’s linen shirt, he kissed each newly revealed patch of the hobbit’s chest. When both of Frodo’s nipples were revealed, Faramir’s tongue explored both of the taut red knobs, and Frodo quivered.
“Faramir…” His arousal thickened.
“Shhh, Frodo, we have time.” Faramir’s shirt was half open since Frodo had been unable to finish all the unlacing. “No shadow haunts us now.”
“I’ve waited long enough,” Frodo said, tugging at Faramir’s arms with shocking strength, knocking the Man off balance. He fell on Frodo, knocking the breath from him.
“Are you all right?” Faramir asked, scrambling to ease most of his weight from Frodo.
“Only if you stay,” Frodo said, pulling again at Faramir’s arms.
Faramir eased his weight back on Frodo, stroking his cheeks and kissing him. “You are insatiable.”
Frodo forced his tongue inside Faramir’s parted lips.
The afternoon filled with gasps and grinding warmth, leather lacings tangling with tiny buttons, and muscled thighs straddling slim hips. Hairy feet slid over muscular calves, velvet breeches were yanked down, and Frodo was filled with throbbing heat that emitted gasps of pain that turned quickly to cries of delight as calloused hands clutched soft skin in final need.
***
Frodo lay in a pleasant drowse, his head cushioned by the crook of Faramir’s arm. Faramir’s hand absentmindedly explored Frodo’s bare skin. He frowned when his fingers brushed over the mutilated surface of Frodo’s back, where orc whips had left their permanent mark.
“It burns my heart when I think of all you endured,” he whispered. “You are so strong…I remember how valiantly you endured the poison of the streams of Mordor…would have killed any one of my men–-“
“What of the future?” Frodo could not bear Faramir to sigh over his wounds.
“Do you wish to go home, Frodo, back to your Shire?”
Frodo looked at him, his blue eyes filling with tears. So Faramir did not want him in his future. His chest ached. Somehow he could bear it, as he had everything else. “I have nothing left there,” he finally managed.
“You have no desire to see your home?”
Frodo’s jaw trembled, and he could no longer keep his voice steady. “I do. But…I would rather stay with you.”
Faramir’s eyes softened, but he did not answer.
Frodo let out a shuddering sigh. “It was the Shire I labored to save, even at the end when I was broken inside.” Frodo clutched Faramir’s tunic until his knuckles were pale. “Yes, Faramir, I want to see my home. I wish to see it safe and in full bloom, but I do not think I shall ever live there in peace.”
“You should go home,” Faramir said softly. “Go home and set your mind at ease…put your affairs in order. I will come for you at such time you deem reasonable.” Frodo’s heart leaped in joy, and Faramir continued. “I shall be in Emyn Arnen, in Ithilien.” He managed a small smile. “With naught but Captain Beregond for company.”
“Not Anborn?” Frodo asked, cocking his head teasingly. His heart felt light, and a joyful buzzing filled his ears. Faramir *did* want him. “If he is there, I will be unable to resist coming immediately.”
Faramir shook his head. “I would not have him.”
“He apologized to me, you know,” Frodo said. “The day of the coronation. He looked as though he would have rather been eaten by wargs. I think perhaps Aragorn forced him into it.”
Faramir laughed a little. “The king has placed him on duty in Osgiliath, where he will labor to rebuild that city. We’ll have naught to do with him.”
Frodo blinked, his eyes filling with tears. “You would not miss me while I go home? For it would probably be a year, perhaps longer, before I would see you again.”
“I would miss you to distraction.” Faramir swallowed again. “But I’ve always been told that if you love something, let it go, and if it comes back, it was meant to be.” He kissed Frodo. “You need to go home.”
“No,” Frodo said, clutching Faramir’s hand. “I do not wish to go yet.”
Faramir tried not to look eager, but he failed, and the lightness in his voice filled Frodo’s heart with joy. “If you choose not to go home now, I would not keep you from your home indefinitely. I would take you there in time. After all, I would dearly love to visit this unruly Shire where the one I love grew up.”
“So, it is settled,” Frodo said as the pain over his chest fully dissipated. “I will stay with you.”
Faramir clutched Frodo’s hands. “Yes. Together we shall make Ithilien bloom again.”
Frodo rolled onto his stomach and peered out between the pillars. The sun danced over the pearly white towers, nearly blinding him with silver sparkles that seemed more fit for an Elvish hall of kings than for a city of Men. “What a marvelous view!”
Faramir squeezed Frodo’s hand. “If you look carefully beyond the walls of the city, you can see in the far distance the hills of Emyn Arnen, where your new home will be.”
“My new home,” Frodo repeated happily, and Faramir pulled him into a close embrace.
Despite his bare skin, the usual chill failed to penetrate the warm reverberations of hope and love that danced under his skin.
END
The sort-of, kind-of sequel to this is “Spring in Emyn Arnen,” of which there are 5 chapters already written…
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-02-16 04:56 pm (UTC)I love 'Spring in Emyn Arnen.' Are you going to continue writing it? I hope so!
Re:
Date: 2003-02-16 05:17 pm (UTC)Yep, will eventually continue Spring in Emyn Arnen. I have so many bunnies for that story that I'm not sure where to go next. heh.
no subject
Date: 2003-02-18 04:13 pm (UTC)Kudos, Claudia... great story.