#faramir x y/n
Text
Once More (With Feeling)
Prompt: Faramir invites an old friend back to Minas Tirith
A/N: It's a little different, just slightly, to how I usually write. It's a rollercoaster, and it's long, so get yourself a hot beverage and prepare yourself for 6k words worth of brainrot.
Faramir x Reader
Fem reader
No content warnings
6.2k words
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You paced the lavish sitting room, throwing irritated looks at all the doors. Faramir was a busy man, you knew, but he had always been punctual. With a groan you sank into the cushioned bench and stared out of the tall, pointed windows.
Minas Tirith had changed since you were last in the city as a girl. Gone was the heavy atmosphere, the distant encroaching darkness on the horizon, The Dead Tree, its gnarled branches cold and bare, the darkened halls, haunted by Denethor’s bitterness.
The city had thrived under the new king’s rule and the new steward’s management. The white stone glowed in the sunlight, vines grew across walls and flowers blossomed in window boxes, there was chatter in the streets and laughter in the halls.
It was no mystery then, why Faramir wrote to invite you back into the city, now renewed and reborn. No, the mystery was why he wrote to you at all.
You had only known him for a year, more than ten years ago. Just two young teenagers, bickering with each other over readings while the tutor tried to calm the both of you. He had been a scrawny thing then, growing taller, but not broader. Not quite a man, like his brother was growing into, not quite a boy, like the other children in the Citadel. His hair too, had been at an awkward length, shaggy around his ears, falling about his forehead and into his grey eyes.
But while Boromir might have been the bolder of the two back then, when it came to academics, Faramir was just as eager. He had been relentless in his pursuit of knowledge, hounding the tutors and dogging the librarians, and, more than once, your spirited debates with him had drawn a small crowd of curious onlookers in the Citadel. There was even a time where you had to race him to the library to get your hands on some coveted book before he did.
But perhaps, the most infuriating thing about him was his kindness.
How he would smile softly after an intellectual argument, as though consoling you, if you had lost, or congratulating you, if you had won. How he would share his notes with you if you had missed lessons, or gift you with chocolate in return for a peek at your own writings. How he would walk you back to your rooms after classes, showing you shortcuts and asking about your day.
How he had offered you his handkerchief and wiped your tears away the night before you left the city with your uncle.
Your heart clenched and you blinked yourself back into the sitting room.
There were voices in the corridor now, and hurried footsteps. You stood and straightened yourself, smoothing the creases in your dress and schooling your features into something neutral.
The door swung open and a man walked in.
He was tall and broad with the build of an archer, with steady legs and strong arms. His light brown hair fell in gentle waves to his shoulder, and his beard was short and well-trimmed. You took in his sharp jaw, his pink lips, his face, handsome, noble, familiar somehow.
His grey eyes sparkled in the late afternoon light and a jolt shot through you.
Faramir.
You stared at him and his barely-there smile grew.
“You’re late,” you blurted.
His eyes widened in shock before he shook his head and chuckled. “And I was told you arrived early.” His voice was low and rich, inviting and warm.
Faramir. This man was Faramir. Solid, handsome, real.
“You have my apologies,” he continued. “There was a meeting that ran over. I did not intend for you to wait so long for me.”
“It’s no matter, I was just admiring the city. A lot has changed.” You turned away from him, scolding your racing heart and chastising your rapidly flushing cheeks. You sucked in a breath and straightened your spine. It was just Faramir.
He came to join you by the window and you kept your eyes fixed on the plains beyond the buildings. “Your letter surprised me,” you said. “I hardly thought I ever crossed your mind.”
A laugh escaped from him, short and sharp. “You’re still the same.”
Your head snapped towards him and you narrowed your eyes. His easy, unfazed demeanour rankled something in you. “It is quite a slight, being told one hasn’t changed in so many years.”
Did he still see you as that awkward, graceless girl? Someone who had not filled out her dresses yet, who made ill-timed comments in conversations, who battled with her skin, her hair, her sharpening mind and her rapidly fading childhood.
He blinked at you, jaw agape. “I did not mean… I simply meant…” He laughed again and gave you a rueful smile. “Forgive me. What I should have said, I suppose, is that I am glad to see you again.”
That strange, foolish feeling was rising in you, like you were fourteen again and you had said the wrong thing at the dinner table. You fought the urge to cross your arms and you nodded slowly. “I am glad to… to be back. Thank you for your generous invitation.”
The words felt strange in your mouth. So formal and distant. Polite. You gestured woodenly at the view. “My uncle would have been pleased at how well the country is doing.”
“I am sorry to hear about your uncle.”
“It has been a few years now.” You hazarded a look at him. His eyes had melted into something soft. You forced yourself to hold his gaze. “I am sorry about your father and,” your breath hitched, “and Boromir.”
“Yes,” he said, voice low. “It has been quiet in the Steward’s House of late.”
Your chest constricted and you wanted to reach out, to lay a hand on his arm, to say, I too have been left alone by all who loved me.
He cleared his throat and nodded at the door. “Has anyone shown you to your rooms yet? I thought that the one on the second floor, that faces east, would be best. But if you’d prefer your old room, I’m certain we can —”
“No.” You swallowed and flashed him a smile, burying the discomfiting feeling. “I mean… No, thank you. I’m sure what you have prepared will be suitable.”
A bell tower somewhere chimed the hour and he grimaced. “I’m sorry but I have another meeting, the last of the day, in a few minutes. Would you be happy to join me for dinner? It would not be anything formal. We could even dine outside, if the fine weather holds. There is so much I wish to discuss with you.”
It was jarring to hear those words coming from Faramir’s lips. Invitations to dinner were something said between two adults, not adolescents.
But you were no longer fourteen, and Faramir was a man now. A friend.
A stranger.
“Yes, dinner outside would be lovely,” you said. “I look forward to it.”
He broke out into a wide smile. “I shall send someone to show you to your rooms, and please, if there is anything you should require, just ask.”
“Of course, thank you.”
He reached out and took your hand, large fingers enveloping your own, and gave it a light squeeze. “I shall see you in a few hours.”
He withdrew with a smile and closed the door behind him.
You stared at your hand for a moment, heat rising to your cheeks, before scowling and scrubbing it against your dress.
-
The evening breeze swept through the open doors and the candles on the table flickered. The temperature had dropped with the sunset, and in the end Faramir had settled for dining in one of the rooms that opened up to a courtyard. Trees rustled and crickets chirped and music from another part of the Citadel drifted over the walls. The warmth from the lit fire licked at his back and he belatedly wondered if he should have offered you the warmer seat instead.
Faramir caught his eyes wandering from some vague spot behind you to your face again. You were focused on the last bit of roasted meat on your plate, cutting it into dainty pieces before lifting it to your lips. He let his eyes trail over your hair, braided and pinned, to the softness of your cheek, the angle of your jaw.
When he had seen you that afternoon he could scarcely believe his eyes. He did not expect you to stay the same, of course, and yet… the sight of you, grown, beautiful and striking, made his pulse jump.
Where was the girl he had known? Who had picked up her skirts and clambered up walls with him, whose quick wit had both frustrated and delighted him? Was she gone, suppressed by etiquette lessons and laced up gowns, washed away by time and tempered by misfortune?
But then you had opened your mouth and bluntly stated his tardiness and he couldn’t help but laugh. No, your spirit was still unchanged, your fire still undimmed.
You looked up and his eyes skittered away. His palms grew clammy and he exhaled. Valar, he was acting like a silly boy, sneaking looks at you across the table, filling his mouth with food instead of conversation.
“What is the matter, Faramir?”
“Nothing.” He smiled.
You had an inquisitive look on your face, half-curious, half-challenging. The same sort of expression you used to wear before launching into an argument. “You were looking at me.”
Heat started to creep up his neck and he dropped his eyes back to his nearly empty plate. “I was just thinking.”
He heard your intake of breath and he prepared himself for an onslaught of words, ready for the cajoling comments and prodding persuasions that you always used to coax him to speak.
Instead, he heard the clatter of cutlery and he looked up to find you arranging your fork and knife at the side of your plate. You glanced towards the open door and, something in that small action, so intensely familiar, made the words tumble from his lips.
“Would you like to go on a walk?”
“I…” Your astonished look morphed into one of suspicion. “How did you know?”
“You used to walk after meals, if I remember correctly.”
“I didn’t think you noticed.”
He noticed. Of course, he noticed. Boromir had once pulled him aside, warning him that if he did not get his looks and glances under control, their father might start getting ideas for future marriage matches. He had wondered if your uncle had realised this and that was why he had whisked you off to the family estate back in North Lebennin when autumn arrived once more.
In truth, Faramir never found out the reason; he was never told, and he never asked.
He grinned and stood. A walk would be good. Dinner had been pleasant, with the usual, banal questions asked and answered. Proper and polite. A far cry from shared smirks and ceaseless chatter you once shared with him. Perhaps some movement would ease the atmosphere. “Shall we walk? Is there any place you would like to see first?”
You paused for a moment, biting your lower lip, before a sly smile crept onto your face. “The old lookout tower. The one that overlooked the Houses of Healing.”
“I do hope you won’t chase me up it. I do not think the excitement would agree with the food we just ate.”
“I won’t.” You looked out at the courtyard then back at him, eyes now dancing with mirth. “Are you becoming old and decrepit?”
“More like sensible and wise.” He walked over to the hooks by the door and reached for the two cloaks that hung there. “Here, you are welcome to borrow one of mine. It is cold out.”
He offered you the thicker one and watched as you ran your fingers over the soft wool before throwing it around your shoulders. It fell past your feet, pooling on the floor, and the sight of you swathed in his cloak stirred something in him.
He led you out into the courtyard and then onto the open ramparts. Hundreds of little lights flickered in the city below. It was quiet, save for the distant bustle of the kitchens and the rustle of the guards shifting on their feet. The wind carried your perfume to him and he inhaled the sweet scent of lilies.
“I have always wondered,” he said, “why you left Minas Tirith.”
“My uncle was worried about me growing up in court. I think he wanted to avoid any pressure that might have befallen me. Marriage offers and gossip and the kind.” You looked away, towards the plains. “I was sorry to leave, but I am glad that I had gone.”
His heart dropped. Had he been selfish? Writing to you and asking you to visit the city when you were clearly happy out in the country? Had you not thought of him once in all the years? He swallowed. “Does it bring you pain to be here?”
“No, not at all.” You shook your head and laughed, and his shoulders relaxed. “I simply meant that I think he made the right decision. It might have been a little boring, but I grew up unrestrained.”
“I do hope you will enjoy the excitement of the city.”
“The change of scenery is refreshing. And I will confess that a break from my responsibilities back home is welcome.”
He noticed then, the shadows under your eyes, the weary tinge in your smiles.
Yes, the both of you were no longer children.
The old, crumbling tower neared and your steps quickened. You paused at the base of the steps, throwing a mischievous look over your shoulder, before vanishing up the stairs. He chuckled and hurried after you, taking the steps two at a time. “You said you would not race me!”
“I said I would not chase you up it!”
He caught sight of the edge of his cloak and the flash of deep purple silk underneath it as he rounded the corner. “So you’ll have me chase you instead?”
Your laugh echoed in the narrow stairwell. “I have no doubt that you’ll catch up. You were always the faster one.”
“And you always the cheater.”
“It is called levelling the playing field.”
The gap between you and him rapidly narrowed, and as the both of you emerged at the top, his hand closed around your shoulder before he could stop himself. You turned, flushed and giggling, eyes alight. Laughter rose in his chest and he chuckled, breathless and buoyant. “You’ll get me into trouble. Like before.”
“Faramir, you are the steward. There is no one to get in trouble with.” You grinned at him before striding towards the merlons. “In any case, I have no plans to lob mushy apples from here so you need not worry about disgruntled guards and unfortunate citizens.”
“I always have to worry about disgruntled guards and unfortunate citizens. It is no easy feat, running a city like Minas Tirith.”
“I can imagine.” Your voice was soft, sympathetic.
He strolled towards you, and you glanced behind at him, shadows from the flickering torches dancing across your face. Your eyes were intense, searching. Valar, he could never stand to hold your gaze when it was like this. It was as though you saw through him.
“Faramir, why did you ask me here?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling boyish and clumsy. “I was… clearing some of the rooms in the Steward’s House when I chanced upon our old classroom. I found one of your old essays.”
“A beastly thing, I’m sure.”
He slowed to a stop beside you, close enough that your cloak fluttered against his legs when the wind blew. “It was rather good, actually. I’m certain you would have made a valuable advisor if you had stayed in court.”
“Well,” you scoffed. “I do not think the court missed us much when my uncle and I left.”
“Boromir and I did.”
“You did not write.”
“I was not certain I was allowed to. Father refused to tell me anything, and then there were other matters. Training, classes, scouting missions.”
He felt a pang in his chest. In truth, he had thought of you over the years, but there were always things to attend to. His father’s growing resentment, his strange prophetic dreams, city matters and trade routes.
The War.
It had been a sleepless night when he had wandered the empty halls, opening old doors and peering into neglected rooms, when he stumbled upon the old classroom. It was still and dusty, books stacked by the window and sheets of paper on one of the tables, abandoned as though someone intended to come back, but never did.
He had been hit with an intense loneliness, a hollowness, an aching.
When he had seen your familiar scrawl on the sheets of paper, along with an unflattering sketch of the tutor, the memory of your playful smile flashed into his mind. And then there was a comforting warmth in his chest, and then for the first time in weeks, he had laughed.
“Faramir,” you said, and he shook himself out of his thoughts. “I am sorry I did not write either.”
“It is no matter.” A smile tugged at his lips. “We are here now.”
-
“Faramir, if you wobble the ladder I will drop these books on your head.” You gripped the polished wood with one hand and clutched a stack of books to your chest with the other.
“If memory serves, you were the one who had a habit of rattling stools and ladders.”
You glared down at him, scoffing at the grin on his face. He was leaning against the shelf with his arms across his chest, relaxed and languid. That night on the tower had shattered the stiffness between the both of you, and the last week and a half had been filled with nostalgic adventures.
Between his duties, Faramir had shown you the changes in the Citadel, walked with you to the markets and shops, even challenged you to a slingshot contest which he won. There had been dinners on balconies, and picnic lunches in gardens, and midnight snacks in derelict towers.
He had told you about his experience in the war. His heartbreak at finding Boromir’s cloven horn, the near-fatal Osgiliath charge, recovering in the Houses of Healing. And you told him how you had to manage the family estate, the scramble to build temporary houses for the refugees, how many of them chose to settle and work the land instead of returning to the ruins of their villages.
He had smiled at you in that soft way you knew, had given you the unbroken strip of apple skin he peeled, had discussed new theories and topics with you by the light of the fire.
“Are you coming down?” Faramir smirked at you. “Or are you going to add to that dangerously heavy pile in your hands?”
You shook your head and started down the ladder, feeling the rungs with your feet.
The library was empty, the librarian having gone home for the day. Light rain pattered on the windows and a fire crackled somewhere in the room. The library, of all places, had remained the most unchanged. There was something comforting in that, in the musky smells of books and paper, of the plush chairs and rickety stools.
As you neared the bottom, your foot slipped, misjudging the distance to the floor, and you stumbled. Instead of hard stone, you were met with a firm chest at your back and a hand on your waist.
Had Faramir always been this warm and big?
“Are you alright?”
You felt the rumble of his chest, his breath by your ear.
His hand, large, heavy, burned through the thin silk of your dress.
“Yes, thank you.” You stepped out of his touch and fumbled with the books in your arms, rearranging them into a neat stack. Valar, what has gotten into you? It was just Faramir. You shoved the books into his arms and turned away. “Next time you can go up on the ladder.”
“I think I would flatten you if I fell.”
“I’ll be sure to step out of the way.” You forced a laugh and wandered down the aisle. You heard him follow after you, his steps slow and steady.
How could such a simple thing affect you so? It was not as though you were so wholly inexperienced; there had been one or two sweethearts in the past, though most of them were short lived.
Had there been anyone for Faramir? Some pretty thing with a perfect education who could recite poetry and embroider and dance?
Your stomach churned and the twisting feeling in your heart squeezed the traitorous words up your throat. “You know, I am surprised you have not found a partner yet. I would think that the offers must be pouring in.”
“Why would you think such a thing?” He was closer now, just behind you, and you could hear the dismay in his voice.
“The maids, they love to gossip.” You laughed, but it sounded hollow to your ears. “I spoke to a couple of them when I went down to the kitchens two nights ago.”
He fell in step with you and you glanced at him. There was a small smile on his lips but his eyes looked clouded. “There have been offers, yes, but I have declined them all.”
“Unable to find a suitable one?” You arched an eyebrow at him.
“It is not a question of suitability. There is no need for me to choose a partner for their station or standing. Such things never mattered to me, even more so since my family’s passing. I would much rather have someone’s genuine love and affection.”
Of course he would say something of that sort. You smiled to yourself, heart warming at his words. They would be lucky, whoever he loved.
The rain fell harder against the glass and thunder rumbled. You glanced at the window, a memory coalescing in your mind. “Is the little alcove still here? The one behind the curtain?
Faramir grinned and inclined his head towards the back of the library. “I believe so, though it has been some years since I have sat in it.”
He led you to the back of the library where a narrow velvet curtain hung in the corner. He drew the fabric back to reveal a cosy space with a wooden bench built into the wall by the window. The lantern that hung from the low ceiling was dusty and unlit.
You padded over to the bench, bending and inspecting the corners. “It is still here,” you breathed, tracing the two sets of initials carved into the wood. “I cannot believe it.”
He leaned over you, so close that you could inhale his scent. Sandalwood and something, paper perhaps, or mild soap. “So it is.”
You looked up and Faramir’s face was mere centimetres away. Were there always so many yellow flecks in his grey eyes? And his lips… did they always look so soft and inviting?
All you would have to do would be tilt your head, and your lips would connect…
You stepped back and waved stiffly at the lantern. “Shall we light this? We could read here. If you’d like.”
He glanced at the narrow bench. There would be no doubt that the both of you would have to be pressed up in some way to fit.
“If you would like. I think there are might be some oil on the librarian’s desk, and a lit candle, I could —”
“I’ll go.”
You turned around and marched away, pressing your hands to your hot cheeks when you were safely hidden by the shelves. You took a breath. It was just Faramir. You would find the oil and the candles and sit and read with him, and think nothing of lips or kissing or how solid he had felt behind you.
-
Faramir was in a hell of his own making. Truly, it had been all his fault. For the first time, he cursed his gentle nature. If he had chosen not to speak and steered you away from the instrument shop…
How could he have forgotten that he was not the only friend you had made in your youth?
Elphir, the boy, no, the man who made lutes and drums had been one of them as well. And how could Faramir have denied you when you had lit up at the sight of the old shop and nearly tripped over your feet rushing to the door? And when you had asked if Elphir could come to the Citadel in the evenings to teach you how to play, he could not find it in himself to refuse you, even as discomfort settled deep in his stomach.
In some fantastical lapse of judgement, or perhaps in some foolish notion to watch over you, he had offered the sheltered courtyard below his sitting room to you and Elphir, and now music drifted into the room. Teasing, taunting, tormenting in the way it would mingle with your laughs.
He strode over to the window and slammed it shut.
For five evenings now, you had rushed off after dinner to Elphir, returning to your rooms after your lesson without seeing him. The pot of tea you usually shared with him in the evenings sat unfinished and cold on the table each night. Faramir sagged against the stone pillar and stared up at the vaulted ceiling. If Boromir was alive, he would call Faramir a fool and insist that he go over and chase the man away. But what right did he have?
He was not your lover or your partner, and even if he was, it would be unreasonable to get upset over you spending time with another, especially for something as innocent as music lessons. Faramir was your friend and…
He was your friend.
His breath hitched as the thought rippled through his body. Somewhere in the past three weeks he had forgotten that.
When he had written to you, inviting you to the city, he had only planned to reconnect with an old friend. Someone who got along with him, who understood what his family had been like, who was not a soldier or a subordinate.
He did not intend to be run away with his feelings.
He had grown used to you in the Steward’s House. Your shawl was draped over a chair, the table was always laid for two, you wished him goodnight in the evening before you retired. He had even considered clearing the set of rooms next to his own for you so that you did not have to walk through two corridors just to visit him.
But alas, you were not his.
“Faramir!” You burst into the room with a wide smile on your face and he startled. You slowed your steps, tilting your head and lowered the arm that held your lute aloft. “Is something the matter?”
He shook his head and tried to smile. “I was just deep in thought. How was your lesson?”
“There is something I want to show you.” You wandered over to the cushioned seats by the fire. “Will you sit?”
He nodded and sat in the lone arm chair instead of sharing the bench with you. Your brows creased for a moment before you shook your head and positioned your hands on the lute.
A haunting melody began to fill the room. It was simple, no more than five or six notes that changed subtly every few bars. It tugged at something in his mind, a dream perhaps, or a memory.
A woman humming, a gentle hand on his cheek, the comforting scent of beeswax.
“My mother,” he whispered, frozen where he sat. “She used to sing this to Boromir and me. To get us to sleep.”
Your playing petered out and you looked up at him. “You used to hum it when we were younger, when you thought no one could hear.” You laid your lute to the side. “Elphir taught me the basics of playing. I taught myself the song. In the night, after my classes.”
He felt the corners of his eyes start to burn and he glanced away. How could he not love you now?
“I am sorry, if I shouldn’t have —”
“Please do not apologise. I…” He shook his head and dabbed at his eyes. “ She would be happy to hear these rooms filled with her music once more.”
You came over to him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, your thumb soothing the tension in his muscles with its idle strokes. His eyes focused and unfocused on the decorative ribbons on the bodice of your dress. The crackle of the fire and the rhythmic sound of breathing filled the space between your bodies. He felt your hand drift towards the side of his neck, your thumb just grazing the edge of his jaw, and he slowly, slowly looked up at you.
Your eyes were soft and half-lidded, your lips slightly parted.
He did not dare move, did not dare breathe.
“Faramir.” He shivered at the sigh in your voice. “I—”
A knock sounded on the door and you jerked away from him. Cold air replaced where your heated hand had been.
A muffled voice came through the door. “I have your tea, sir.”
“The tea,” he muttered, rising to his feet. “Would you like to…”
“It has been a long day,” you said, snatching up your lute and striding to the door. “I… Goodnight.”
You flung the door open and he heard the startled squeak of the maid followed by the rapid patter of your footsteps.
-
You slammed your room door shut behind you and leaned against it. Your breaths came short and quick, chest heaving and skin searing.
What had you almost done? What words were going to spill from your traitorous lips?
It was just Faramir.
Just… a friend.
You shook your head and slumped to the floor. There was nothing decidedly friendly about what had just passed between the both of you. And… and what? What could possibly happen between you and him? You had an estate waiting for you in Lebennin, there were people who needed your instruction and leadership. And Faramir was the Steward of Gondor; the people needed him as well.
Your trip to Minas Tirith was supposed to be nothing more than a visit to an old friend. You had forgotten yourself. For so many years you had run the estate on your own, had resigned yourself to quiet meals in the day and lonely nights in the study. There was no time, no place, to entertain such ridiculous notions like love.
And yet…
You stared at your hands, hands that had held him for just a moment, had felt the coarseness of his beard and the beat of his heart.
Want burned in you.
Want for his lips, his hands. For his gentle smile, for his joyous laughter. For a permanent seat at the table, for space on his shelves for your books.
-
Faramir stared at the tea tray on the table. Two cups, two saucers. A full pot of tea.
He stroked the side of his jaw, his own fingers feeling indelicate compared to your touch. There was no mistaking the look in your eyes, desire mixed with tenderness. Perhaps it was not so ridiculous to think that you might return at least a fraction of what he felt for you.
His stomach swooped and a strangled laugh burst from him.
But was it just a flash of fancy, borne from the moment? A reckless action in the dim of the night?
Were you going to slip from him, retreat back into your shell of polite distance? He would not be able to bear it, to hear your stilted words, to have you shrink away from his casual touches. To have you vanish again, taking your laughter and your light away with you.
Should he go to you? Would that be impertinent? But he had lost you once before with his inaction, and only a fool would not learn from their mistakes.
-
You tugged the borrowed cloak on your shoulders closer around you. It smelled like Faramir, like sandalwood and that evasive something, ink perhaps. Mist had descended on the Citadel and drifted across the parapets like sheer curtains. Your steps were soft on the stone and you wandered from torch to torch, veering closer for warmth, roaming further for the cover of shadow. The guards paid you little attention, and the stars overhead twinkled unbothered.
Twice you had tried to walk to Faramir’s room, twice you had turned on your heel and fled back to your rooms. In the end, your room had become stifling and you rushed out into the open air.
Your blood had cooled and, now in the starkness of the open night, you felt foolish.
You paused by the old watchtower, leaning on the cold stone and staring down at the Houses of Healing. You would apologise when you saw him next, and then perhaps it was time to return to the family estate…
Muffled footsteps approached and you turned.
Faramir emerged from the mist, still in his day clothes, his hair mussed and his eyes tired.
“Faramir,” you whispered, arms falling to your sides. You opened your mouth to speak, but your rehearsed speech refused to leave your lips.
He came to a stop in front of you, a disarming smile on his face. “Somehow, I am not surprised to find you here.”
“Were you looking for me?”
He nodded, and amusement coloured his smile. “I suppose, in a way, I have always been looking for you.”
“Is there something you wanted from me?”
His twinkling eyes grew serious. “I wished to speak to you.”
You turned away, suddenly unsure, but his hand reached for yours. His thumb caressed your knuckles and you lifted your eyes to him. “What about?”
“I think you already know.”
You swallowed and tried to speak, but the words stayed lodged in your throat, and your eyes fell to your joined hands.
“I have never been good at disguising my feelings,” he said, voice soft and low. “I am sure you must be aware…”
Aware? Aware of what? His feelings? That he only viewed you as a friend, and that perhaps you had taken advantage of his kindness, mistaken it for affection and…
His fingers skimmed your chin, gently urging it up. His grey eyes were alight, burning almost, with an open passion so rarely seen in him. You scarcely dared to look away. Your heart pounded in your ears.
“Perhaps I have always loved you, even before I realised what that word meant. I was too young, too naive.” He cupped your cheek and you leaned into his touch. “But we are older now. And I can say for certain that I… I —”
You surged forward and pressed your lips to his. They were pillowy and soft and carried a trace of bitterness from the tea. He deepened the kiss, pulling you flush against him. You laid a hand on his chest, fingers splaying across his heart. He sighed into your lips, his exhale hot on your skin. You felt him grin and you nudged his nose with yours.
“I think,” you muttered, “I have wanted to do that for a long time now.”
He laughed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You are welcome to do it any time you wish.”
“Faramir, why me? And after so many years since we last saw each other.”
“Can such a thing truly be explained?” He hummed to himself. “I suppose the simplest answer I can give is that you bring me joy. And perhaps also, I think we make good partners. We have always made good partners.”
You sobered at his words. “Faramir, we are not children anymore. My estate… I cannot leave it unmanaged. And I have neglected my duties already these past weeks.”
“We will find a way,” he assured. “It is only a full day’s ride from Minas Tirith, is it not?”
“Less, if one has a good horse.”
“Less, I think, if you had the reins.” He chuckled. “We are not children anymore, yes, but that only means that we can truly do as we wish. As we choose.”
You mulled over his words. “And you would choose to have a busy bride, to have to make trips out to the country with her?”
“I choose to have you.” He stroked your cheek. “And you, my love? What would you choose?”
“I choose, I think,” you said with a smile, “to remain where I have always belonged.”
“In Minas Tirith?”
“With you.”
He grinned and wrapped his arms around you. He laughed into your hair and you tucked your nose into his neck. You inhaled his scent, thinking of the unknown, familiar note in it that always eluded you. Thinking of how it smelled like rain and books, of apple peels and bitter tea.
Thinking of how, perhaps, it smelled like home.
---
If you made it this far, holy shit thank you for reading.
I characterised Faramir a little bit differently here. I think I have a tendency to conflate kindness with passivity when it comes to him, but I think he can be pretty intense if he wanted to be.
And also, I feel like this entire piece is tinged with the bittersweetness of growing up, but I hope that it veered more sweet than bitter. To you young'uns out there, truly, I promise you, it is not terrible to grow up ❤️
Taglist: @sotwk
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incorrect middle earth starring y/n #5
Faramir: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos-
Y/n: I wrote you a poem.
Faramir, already crying: You did?
#im in love with faramir and about to make it everyone elses problem#lotr x reader#lord of the rings#lotr#lotr incorrect quotes#incorrect quotes#faramir#faramir lotr#faramir x reader#faramir x y/n
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Courting Faramir
Just some headcanons for courting Faramir. The Bestest Boi.
Warnings: None.
The Most Unassuming Guy Ever™
Even tempered.
Always seems to have a gentle smile on his face.
If cool wind blows, Faramir would give you his cloak.
Lightning fast reflexes.
Faramir is non-aggressively protective. It's sort of a quiet awareness.
Honestly, this guy is probably one of the respectful dudes out there.
Having been raised in the court he is likely a good dancer.
The most courtly gentleman ever.
Bouquets of wildflowers.
Kisses on your hand.
Gentle strolls in Ithilian.
Gondorians would adore you because Captain Faramir has exceptional taste.
Sometimes you race horses.
He took you to Henneth Annun. (glass waterfall curtain place)
Happy to spend hours in Minas Tirith's archives, pouring over history with you.
Probably has a few secret spots in the city he found to hide from his father.
Assisting the poorer folk in the city.
He would not push you to learn defense but would indulge you if you requested it.
He would test different weapons with you, even obscure ones, to find the right match for you.
After you have your perfect assortment, he will get the best instructor for you if it's not himself.
By the time he's done with you, you've become a deadly assassin.
He gives you an armor set all your own.
It's etched with intricate designs, obviously tailored for you.
You watch the sunset together
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Faramir trying to tell you he is in love with you:
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
It takes him a while to realise that he is in love with you
When he realises it, he's nervous as hell, even if he tries not to show it on the outside
Nevertheless, you notice that he often nervously tucks his hair behind his ears or avoids your gaze
It takes him a lot of effort to admit that he's in love with you to himself because he is sure he isn't good enough for you
The first person he told was Boromir, who was overjoyed that there was someone like you to make his brother so happy
He encourages Faramir to talk to you
Faramir invites you for a walk through the forest, as he has realised how much you like nature and animals
You talked about all sorts of things for a while, but at some point he stopped and avoided your gaze
He seemed nervous, but then you gently reached for his hand
His voice was quiet as he confessed his feelings to you
When he finally looked you in the eye again, you smiled softly and gently wrapped your arms around him
#faramir x reader#faramir#tolkien x reader#x reader#tolkien#lotr#lotr x you#lotr x reader#lotr x y/n#faramir x you
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𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫…
Summary ➳ You are a street rat in Gondor, after the rise of soldiers patrolling the streets, you become desperate for coin and meet the man you attempt to steal from.
(A/n) ➳ I would consider this a series but not really a storyline/story. It’s more like headcanons/scenarios because I have a lot of them.
You guys can check out the masterlister for this if you wanna request something!!
Word Count ➳ 1.2k
Content Warnings ➳ Gender Neutral Reader, Reader’s age is eight, stealing, mentions of starving, violence, mentions of death…
Series’ Masterlist
Thirteen Years Before LOTR: Fellowship of the Ring - Reader’s age is eight - Boromir’s age is twenty seven - Faramir’s age is twenty three -
You were part of a misfit group in Gondor, causing trouble wherever you all went. And you all had one thing in common, all of you were unwanted by your families. It’s what kept you all together, made you believe you were your own family.
You all got away with various crimes, and being the youngest of the family, you listened, learned, and paid attention to whatever they did. You knew your way around Gondor like the back of your hand, well… Almost all of Gondor.
But it was like a flip was switched. Suddenly soldiers patrolled the streets, it didn’t matter the hours. The citizens spoke of how they cannot wait to get rid of the thieves plaguing their homes. You watched as the thieves were dragged off.
You were scared, and they all saw it. They reassured you that it wouldn’t happen to them and they would be with you, forever.
Yet one-by-one everyone started getting picked off, getting into trouble that was certain to be their demise, or getting into fights that they could not win. It was until you were the only one left. If you continued and followed in their steps, you would surely end up like them.
So you tried to stray off the path that they all followed, but being on the poor side of Gondor meant you had to do it to live.
You went back to stealing, getting into fights over food or even housing… You weren’t proud of yourself but hey, you were still breathing. That’s when you got over your head. You heard there was a high price on any of the soldier’s swords. No way someone would dare to try but you were willing.
It was late at night when you found two soldiers alone, chatting and the younger one was drinking at the older one’s request. When the younger one went inside, believing he forgot something, the other seemed to follow, leaving their swords behind.
Maybe you could take both, get paid double. You would be set for a long time if you used the money wisely.
You slowly made your way to the swords, grabbing the hilt of one and reaching for the other. You were suddenly pulled away by the shoulder while the sword in your hand was taken back. You were met by the eyes of the older one.
One would say he looked angry, but it seemed like he was more frustrated than angry.
“What’s ?” He kept a soft grip on your shoulder, letting you run if you pleased. But you were scared, unsure if he was going to use the sword to strike you down. “What is a little child doing playing with dangerous weapons?”
“I-I didn’t mean to sir, I promise!” You begged.
“It’s alright.” He smiled, setting the sword against the wall. “But you shouldn’t go touching stranger’s belongings, if I was someone else, they might not have been so kind.” He warned you, releasing your shoulder. “What is your name, child?”
“(Y/n).”
“Well (Y/n).” He searched through his pouch and tossed you a couple of coins. “Here, go and get warm. There’s a tavern that would take a single coin for a week. It gets very cold in Gondor around this time.” He took the swords, sheathing one and with his back turned to you. “Take care (Y/n), I hope you will not find trouble.” And he enters the tavern, following the younger one.
“Did something happen?” Faramir asked, taking the sword when it was handed to him.
“It was just a child.”
It was strange for a stranger to have an effect on you. You tried to live by his words for the next couple of weeks, anything to keep you from straying on the road you were on. But you were down to two coins left, two weeks, and the weather wasn’t getting any warmer.
People stay inside to keep warm, and when people stay inside, there is no work to be done.
You were starving, you could buy just for the day from the two coins or use the coins for the shelter given to you. You would say the hunger clouded your judgment, and the cost for the soldier’s swords was still in the air.
You swiftly maneuvered around the boxes blocking the street, you looked through alleyways for any soldier leaving their weapons unattended, unaware of another soldier following you from afar.
But as far as you could search without looking suspicious, none decided to leave their swords, not even from a moment. They all desperately searched for warmth.
Your last resort was to steal from the very few vendors still open, all you needed to do was distract, snatch, and then run back to the tavern. You made sure to calculate a route that would surely lose the vendor.
You pulled the cloak tighter around your frame, hood up and head down, you walked to the vendor asking questions and picking out what you wanted. While they were busy, you grabbed the largest piece of bread dashed away.
“Hey!” The vendor shouted. The soldier ran after you but made no promise to the vendor, the vendor believed that the soldier would drag you back to them.
You made cuts through the alley, jumping over boxes and did your best to speed past soldiers without looking suspicious, but it’s difficult when you’re being chased. Your lungs burned as your legs felt heavy, it seemed that the cold weather didn’t like you and slowed you down.
When you cut into another alley, you tripped another box. You let out a cry, falling to the stone cold ground. As you dragged yourself to the bread, it was taken from you and you were thrown over someone’s shoulders.
“Let me go!” You demanded, struggling against his hold.
“No one is going to help a thief.” You remembered that voice, just barely.
“S-Sir?!”
“Quiet down.” He ordered you, rushing deeper through the alleyways until it was a dead end, he finally let you down yet still kept the bread in his hands. “Did I not say to keep out of trouble?”
“You hoped that I wouldn’t get into trouble.” You retorted, reaching for the bread only for him to pull. You reached for it again but he held it over your head. You weren’t going to even try to jump. “What do you want from me? Who are you?!”
He quickly hushed you, covering your mouth with his gloved hand. “I’m Boromir.” Your heart dropped. “You are young, you shouldn’t be out here without your parents but from what I’ve seen, you don’t have any… How long have you been alone, little one?”
He stepped closer to you, his arm coming down, and handed you the bread. His hands were caring, especially when they took your hands to hold the bread.
You sniffled and held the bread close to your chest, you broke down crying. You felt his arms come around your body, kneeling to meet your level. He rubbed your back as you cried into his shoulder. “It’s alright, little one.” His thumb swipes away a tear. “I’ll take care of you now, you’re safe.”
© Intoxicated-Chan 2023, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.
#divider by cafekitsune#x reader#x gender neutral reader#boromir#boromir x reader#faramir#lotr x y/n#lotr x you#lotr x reader#lotr#lord of the rings x y/n#lord of the rings x you#lord of the rings x reader#lord of the rings#boromir x you
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Finding Beauty in Imperfection- Faramir x reader
Author's note: Thank you for 251 followers!
You stood on the balcony of the White Tower, feeling the cold breeze blowing through your hair. You were in deep thought, thinking about all the things that went wrong in your life. You felt like you were constantly making mistakes, no matter how hard you tried.
"I can't do anything right," you whispered to yourself, feeling defeated.
Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder, and you turned around to see Faramir standing behind you.
"What's troubling you, my lady?" he asked, looking at you with concern in his eyes.
"I just feel like I can't do anything right," you said, feeling a tear roll down your cheek.
Faramir gently wiped away your tear, and held your face in his hands.
"That's not true," he said, looking into your eyes. "You are a kind and compassionate person, and you always try your best."
You shook your head, feeling like you didn't deserve his kind words.
"But I keep making mistakes," you said, feeling the weight of them on your shoulders.
Faramir put his arms around you, holding you close.
"We all make mistakes," he said. "It's how we learn and grow from them that matters."
You felt comforted by his embrace, and for the first time in a while, you felt like things might be okay.
"Thank you," you said, looking up at him.
Faramir smiled at you, and took your hand.
"Come with me," he said, leading you down the stairs and out into the gardens.
As you walked, he pointed out the beauty of the flowers and trees, telling you stories of their history and significance.
You felt yourself relax, the weight of your mistakes lifting off your shoulders.
"There is beauty in imperfection," Faramir said, looking at you. "And there is always room for growth and improvement."
You nodded, feeling grateful for his kind words and the beauty of the world around you.
As you walked, hand in hand with Faramir, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you were capable of doing something right after all.
#y/n#lotr#faramir imagines#i love faramir#faramir#faramir x reader#lord of the rings#lotr fanfic#lord of the rings x reader
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A Losing Battle | Faramir x m!reader
『••✎••』
↳ ❝ Hello! Can I request male reader with really bad separation anxiety x faramir with prompt "Just close your eyes and go to sleep, I'll still be here" ? ❞
: ̗̀➛ You and Faramir will be married one day, but that doesn't stop you from constantly worrying about him.
: ̗̀➛ brief mentions of injury/fighting
•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•
Faramir frowned when he noticed that your horse was tethered beside his, as he had explicitly told you to stay with his men when he had left; that horse would not allow any other rider in its saddle, and it vexed him to think of what possible reason you could have for showing up at the camp.
Of course, he understood that you tended to worry and panic a lot when he was gone for more than two minutes; he knew that you liked to be within his vicinity as often as you could be, and that you would sometimes find it overwhelming to be without him.
But he didn’t want you to get hurt, either; he needed you to stay back so that he could deal with the task at hand and make it back to you without needing to try desperately to keep you safe at the same time.
He tried not to think anything of it as he approached where he had been sleeping, but when he saw a rather large lump beneath his blanket, he knew that there could only be one person in the entirety of Middle Earth who would do such a thing.
Faramir didn’t mind, though, not really; when he got down on one knee beside you and gently shook you awake, he realised that he didn’t particularly feel angry for you at disobeying him, and nor did he feel particularly disappointed to find you beneath his blankets.
If anything he was relieved to know that you were still alive and that you had made it there in one piece; it made him smile when you snuggled into his blanket, taking in his scent for a moment.
Faramir knew you well enough to know that you weren’t so easily woken, and it was likely that you had fallen asleep after trying to stay up waiting for him to get back.
Perhaps any other day, he would have felt guilty for making you stir, but tonight, he just wanted to lie down beside you and know that you were there in his arms. Safe and protected, as always.
It did take him quite a while to wake you, but when you looked up at him with your face half covered by the blanket and your eyes still blurry from sleep, he couldn’t help but to smile and to take it in for a moment.
“I do apologise for disturbing you, but erm, you do happen to be in my bed.”
“‘M always in your bed,” you muttered softly, struggling to sit upright but getting there eventually. “I’m really sorry, Faramir, I know you said to stay put and to wait until you got back, but I started thinking about, y’know, everything and I started worrying if you would be alright, and-”
“I understand,” Faramir whispered kindly. “I know that you tend to think too much for your own good. I will not shame you for that, ever.”
You nodded, wrapping your arms around your knees as you rested your chin on them and hummed. “Thank you…”
“Of course,” he whispered. “If you’re to be my husband one day… well, you know the rest of it. And Boromir was always the better speaker between us, anyway.”
You laughed softly, nodding as you beckoned him to sit beside you, which he did so gladfully, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “One day I will be your husband, and you will have to put up with me at your side constantly - regardless if you order me to or not.”
Faramir grinned as he licked his lips, nodding slowly. “Is that not exactly what happened tonight?”
“Well, either way,” you shrugged. “How do you feel, anyway? I heard from some of your boys that it was pretty brutal out there.”
He nodded, clearing his throat. “We all managed to do fairly well - a few of the men were injured but thankfully nothing major.”
Immediately, you switched to sitting between his legs, your hands wandering his body to check for any piercing in his armour. “And wha-”
“I am fine,” Faramir said calmly, taking your wrists in his hands and holding them close to his chest as he shook his head. “I did not suffer so much as a blow from a shield.”
You nodded slowly, splaying your fingers out across the taught leather breastplate as you swallowed thickly and licked your lips. “Not even a bruise?”
He shook his head, putting his hands over yours. “Not even a bruise.”
“Alright,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. “Just as long as you promise you aren’t hurt.”
“I’m not,” he told you softly. “I promise you, I am not hurt… although, I am a little hurt that you would try and steal my blanket from me on such a cold night.”
You smiled, shrugging as you tilted your head to the side for a moment. “Well, maybe, if you’re so cold, we could share?”
“I think that would be a good plan,” he admitted, waiting for you to get comfortable before he took his breastplate off and laid down beside you. “You know, you can just close your eyes and go to sleep, I’ll still be here when you wake up.”
You nodded as you snuggled into him, trying to squirm as close as you possibly could. “You promise?”
Slowly, Faramir threw his leg over you to keep you against him, and he was quick to let his arms welcome you tightly the second he could. “I always promise. Believe me, you will soon enough get sick of me.”
You laughed softly, tiredly as you pulled up the blanket so that it sat around you both, although you could feel the cold breeze against the backs of your legs. “I doubt that could ever happen, really.”
Faramir wanted to laugh, although the way you were pressed against him and the feeling of your soft breath against him was all too difficult to ignore, and he soon found himself fighting against the urge to sleep; he waited, though, only daring to admit defeat when he felt you go limp in his arms as your breathing became all too steady.
With a smile on his face, Faramir allowed himself to lose that battle.
#mlem writes#faramir x reader#faramir son of denethor#faramir imagine#faramir#lotr x reader#lotr x you#lotr x y/n#lotr imagine#lotr fanfiction#lotr fanfic#lotr fic#lotr#faramir lotr#lotr faramir#lord of the rings x reader#lord of the rings x you#lord of the rings x y/n#lord of the rings imagine#lord of the rings fanfiction#lord of the rings fanfic#lord of the rings fic#lord of the rings faramir#faramir lord of the rings#lord of the rings one shot#lord of the rings oneshot#lord of the rings
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Stars - Faramir X Female Reader
Title: Stars
Faramir X Female Reader
Additional Characters: Reader's father (Mentioned), and guards (Mentioned)
Requested by Anon!
WC: 1,018
Warnings: Oblivious Reader, friends to lovers, slight angst, and fluff
The stars, they shine down at you and Faramir just as they did when you were children. It's like their magic never left them - that you're still part of this beautiful universe. And you were beyond happy to be in the same universe with Faramir. You can remember every star from the sky. You know what the constellations meant because you've studied them for so long that you could recite them backward by now. They calmed you, as did Faramir beside you. His hand was in yours as the grass softly tickled you as you lay under the stars. You remembered when you were both kids, running around the courtyard together, dancing together, and pranking the guards. You remember laughing so loud that your throat hurt, and most of all… You remember how happy you felt, and what a great day it was until your father called you back home.
Your friendship never died as the years went on if anything... You grew closer. So much closer, you began to fall for your life-long best friend. The only problem was that you knew Faramir would never feel the same.
And, yet, you were wrong... So wrong.
Faramir was head-over-heels for you. And you had completely missed his obvious signals. Every. Single. Time. When he brought you flowers. No, they were just a sweet gesture from a friend. And that necklace he got you for your birthday? Yeah, what a sweet and caring friend thing to do! And when he told you basically every day that he loved you. Yeah, I love you too, best friend! You were that oblivious.
And yet, Faramir never stopped trying. He would confess to you every day until you realized his true feelings for you. And yet, here you both were, staring up at the stars above, and he was speechless. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? Everything he had tried left him in the same place he started at. Only a friend. Only a confidant.
"Y/N," He finally spoke up, tilting his head to the side to look at you, "You know I love you?"
You turned your own head, a smile on your face, "Of course, I love you too. You know how important our friendship is to me."
He nodded, looking away again, a blush rising up his cheeks. He then turned back towards you with a hopeful expression in his eyes, “Remember when we used to prank the guards? Tossing pepper in their armor?”
You let out a laugh. “Of course, I remember. It was the best day of my life.”
Faramir hummed, looking back at the sky, “The best day of my life was when I met you.” He confessed, making you blush as you smiled warmly.
“Well, I take my statement back then. The best day of my life was when I met you too.”
Faramir sighed, anxiously shutting his eyes as he listened to the breeze and the crickets. "Will you marry me?"
"What? Faramir? What are you saying?" You asked, as Faramir sat up and you followed.
"I wish you weren't so oblivious, Y/N. For years I've been in love with you. Yet..." Faramir sighed, running a hand through his hair, "You never truly understood that when I said 'I love you,' I meant it romantically."
"But I'm your best friend! I understand everything!" You insisted, shaking your head.
"No, you do not. You do not understand how I feel," He argued, pulling out the box from his pocket before handing it to you. Your fingers brushed against each other as you reached out to take it, finding a small wooden box.
"You were serious?" You looked up at him with wide eyes, "How could I have been so blind? For years?" You looked into his eyes, tears gathering at your eyes, "This is why I thought there must be something else going on with you! You're always so nice to me and I was too dense to realize!" You took a deep breath and wiped away the falling tears, "I am in love with you too, Faramir. I have been since we were children."
"Oh, thank goodness," He said, sighing in relief as he leaned forward and pulled you into an embrace, "It's so good to hear you say those words."
"So good to hear you say those words, too," You smiled against his shoulder, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I'm sorry I couldn't see it sooner. I’ve been so blind. I thought about all those gifts and kind words… Were just that… Gifts and kind words. Deep down, I was so upset, knowing you probably would never feel the same for me as I feel for you, but I was wrong. And I am so sorry I didn’t see it sooner."
"Don't apologize," He said, smiling softly at you as you separated, "There's no need for apologies. We'll sort it all out later." He then took the wooden box from you, opening it to reveal a ring.
"Are you not supposed to court me first?" You asked and Faramir blushed, frowning slightly.
"Uh, well, um," He stammered, "If you desire so, we can start courting. I'll save the ring for later." He laughed nervously and you giggled.
"Well, alright then," You replied, reaching out and taking the offered hand on your own. "Let's make the most of it. Together." He squeezed your hand firmly and kissed your knuckles lightly.
"Together," He agreed, kissing your forehead. You grinned and held onto his hand tightly, letting yourself enjoy the warmth and comfort radiating off of him. You were glad that you had finally realized, feeling so foolish about missing his hints, but at least you could admit it now. Yes, you were blind, but Faramir made you see… Though you did regret all the time you and Faramir had lost in your obliviousness, you were glad you had the rest of your lives to spend together. Faramir was a wonderful man, one of a kind. A prince among men. A man of true quality. And you loved him.
#requests are open#requests open#requested#requests#request#fanfic#fantastic four#fanfiction#fandom#the lord of the rings#lord of the rings#lotr#x reader#x female reader#x fem!reader#x you#x y/n#faramir#faramir x reader#faramir x you#faramir x y/n#faramir x fem!reader#faramir x female reader#fluff#cute#slight angst
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Lord of the Rings Masterlist
Aragorn
Legolas
Gimli
Boromir
Frodo
Sam
Pippin
Merry
Faramir
Elrond
Lindir
#lotr#lotr x y/n#aragorn#legolas#frodo baggins#samuel gamzee#pippin#x male y/n#Merry#faramir#elrond#lindir#tolkien#x teen!reader#x gn reader#lotr x gn reader#lotr x male reader#x child reader#x ftm reader#aragorn x reader#legolas x reader#gimli x reader#boromir x reader#frodo x reader#sam x reader#pippin x reader#merry x reader#elrond x reader#faramir x reader#lindir x reader
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A Queen in Body, Mind, and Spirit Part 2
A.N: Guess who did the writing? Me! So sorry this took an unimaginable amount of time but here you are! Hope it's worth the ridiculously long wait (seriously tho if I was a reader of my own writing and had to wait this long I would have murdered myself thu my screen y'all are angels).
Word Count: 1,574
Chapter 2/2.
Read on Ao3 or Wattpad!
*****
At the banquet, it was all you could do to sit there without fidgeting. People kept coming up to the high table to congratulate you, and you were so nervous all you did was smile and nod. It took Legolas coming up and wishing you well before leaning down to whisper something to Aragorn and pinching your arm at the same time to make you remember you knew how to speak.
Aragorn, thankfully, seemed equally nervous. He’d clearly thought more about this hairbrained scheme in the time since proposing it to you, and that thinking hadn’t done his confidence in it any good. But he was the one who’d gotten the two of you into this mess in the first place, so he had to deal with it.
“You know…” you said, leaning over to Aragorn, “I’ve been thinking we should do some sort of performance. Or an announcement. Something to make this seem extra official.”
He looked at you like you’d sprouted a second head.
“You want to do something to draw even more attention to us? Why?”
You shrugged. “It seems like something we should do? But honestly, my ass is starting to hurt from sitting down for so long.”
He snorted, and quickly tried and failed to conceal it with a not-so-elegant cough.
“Fine. Let’s dance,” Aragorn said, before rising and offering you his arm.
“I had something a little more along the lines of sneaking out of the banquet and going to sleep in mind, but I guess dancing works too?”
You grabbed his proffered arm, letting him help you down the steps from the raised dais where you’d eaten onto the dance floor. As you walked to the center, you saw Legolas rise and tap his spoon against his goblet.
“The king and his betrothed would like to dance!” Legolas declared.
With that, every eye in the room that wasn’t already on you—which was admittedly few— looked at you. And you stood in the center of the room, alone except for Aragorn, waiting for the band to start playing.
The band began, strings of notes floating down to your ears as Aragorn placed one hand on your waist and clasped your own in his other. Your other hand rested on his shoulder, careful not to crush his cape. You began to move together, stepping slowly until your feet started to remember the pattern and you picked up speed. You spun around each other, all the other dancers on the floor falling back to simply watch the two of you move in complete harmony.
Aragorn whirled you around the dance floor, spinning you out with arms always there to bring you back to him. Neither of you really knew what specific dance you were doing, you just let the music take you with the other. The music swelled to its apex and you began a circle of spins on your own, your only point of contact your hand clasped with his above your head, his other arm always there to catch you. Revolving only through the light touches of your feet on the ground, the exact right touch happening almost as if by magic to propel you through. And as you finished the twirls he clasped your waist once more, steadying you as you danced with him again.
As you moved together his hand crept from your waist to rest on the small of your back, drawing you in closer to him. Your own hand traveled up to rest on the back of his neck, bringing his head down until your foreheads pressed together. You looked into each other's eyes as you slowed your movements, breathing in unison as you pulled apart to silence from those watching.
Until you saw, out of the corner of your eye, Faramir’s hands raised to clap and then the noise of applause bombarded your senses. You heard a wolf-whistle and knew without looking that it was Legolas.
You felt a hand on your waist again, and Aragorn guided you back up the steps. People were starting to move back onto the floor as the first strands of a new piece began to trickle through the air, but you didn’t notice. Your eyes were locked with his as you reached your seats, your body knowing that you were supposed to sit but your heart keeping you in place, one hand resting on his shoulder, his still on your waist, poised almost like the beginning of another dance.
And then the moment ended—his eyes broke from yours and looked over your shoulder as Legolas bounded up the steps behind you.
“Aragorn, we cannot have you taking all her time the whole night! The kingdom needs to see their soon to be queen mingle!”
Aragorn seemed surprised for a moment, before dropping his hands and nodding.
You turned, and took Legolas’s offered arm, gliding down to the floor with him, and spent the rest of the night making small talk with various nobles, none of whose names you would remember the next day. Your mind just kept flitting back to the way Aragorn had looked at you, like you were the only person in the world. It had confused you, because that was the way you felt that you looked at him. But he was not in love with you, so it didn’t make sense.
Much later that evening, after having excused yourselves from the banquet, you found yourself walking down the torchlit halls, Aragorn alongside you. You reached the door to your rooms and pressed your hand on the handle, ready to open it and say goodnight, but then Aragorn took your other hand and spun you around to face him.
You stood there for a moment, breath unconsciously held as he simply looked at you.
And then he moved, and held you by your waist and spun you around until you felt the cool wood of the door against your back. He hesitated for a moment, looking at you before slowly kissing you. And then he deepened it, pressing your body against the door as your hands tangled in his hair and you melted into his touch, kissing him in return as you marveled at his actions. You didn’t know how long you spent there with him, kissing each other for the first time, not quite realizing what this meant but knowing it was bringing you delight to be with him.
Later, you stood on the balcony outside your room together, gazing down at the city before he turned to you. Your eyes didn’t move from his as you mirrored him, gazing at the picture he painted. He practically glowed in the moonlight, dark clothes not drowned out by the moonlight but instead set apart from the rest of the world. The silver thread looked like liquified moonlight, and in that moment, even without the crown that had doubtless fallen off somewhere inside, he looked every inch a king.
But he didn’t seem to care. He was simply drinking in the sight of you. You were sure that your cheeks were flushed, eyes bright and hair mussed but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away. And he was right not to do so—however much the moonlight made him glow, it was nothing compared to the vision before him. It practically set you aflame, bright colors burning in the night sky as the white light caught the shimmering threads at just the right angle
And then his eyes left you as he moved, suddenly.
“My queen,”Aragorn said, bowing his head.
You stood there, shocked for a moment.
“Aragorn—”
He looked up, meeting your eyes once more. “I was ignoring what I felt for you in order to make both our lives easier in some way. But I cannot ignore it—I suspect it was this that made me suggest this inane plan in the first place.”
He laughed then, a small, wry chuckle.
“But I do hope that in doing so we may have found ourselves right in the place that I, at least, was trying to deny in the first place.”
You tilted your head, deep down knowing where he was leading but your heart pounding in your chest was too nervous to follow.
“Where might that be?”
“Love,” he said. “For me, at least, I have been in love with you for a great deal of time. I am not so presumptuous as to assume that you return my affections, however I must tell you that I dearly wish for us to be betrothed in truth. I want to spend every next step, every coming spin, with you.”
As he spoke your eyes widened, hardly daring to hope but knowing that these words were real. You could tell by the depth of emotion held behind his eyes now, the softness but sureness with which he spoke. And you realized then that you had somehow always known—this was who you were meant to spend all the joyful moments, all the sad moments, and every moment with.
He took your hand as you opened your mouth, searching your eyes as if bracing himself for your answer.
You laughed, nearing giddiness in this moment, standing on a balcony that overlooked all of Minas Tirith, flaming in the moonlight as the man you loved looked at you as if you were the only thing in the world.
“Well, then. I believe we should make this betrothal official.”
******
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#maiawrites#aragorn#aragorn x reader#aragorn/reader#aragorn x y/n#aragorn x you#aragorn elessar#lord of the rings#lotr#lotr fanfiction#legolas#faramir#eowyn#fake relationship#fake dating
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Of the Earth
Request: Could I request a fic faramir x reader where she has stumbled into ithilien and he comes across her? he's all angry at first because it's dangerous, but it ends well :) (they don't have to know each other either)
A/N: This one has more ranger!Faramir which was fun to write. Boromir lives because I say so lol Hope you all enjoy it!
Faramir x Reader
Fem reader
No content warnings
4.1k words
---
You inhaled the cool evening air, breathing in the scent of fir and cedar. You followed the worn path, now dotted with primroses and overgrown with fragrant herbs of thyme and sage, and swept your eyes over the trees and shrubs. Where was the entrance to Henneth Annûn? Idhron mentioned that it would be along the side of the mountain. The dying light of the sun filtered in through the trees and the forest was bathed in a dreamy glow. Ithilien truly was such a beautiful land, even now, still sullied with the lingering darkness of the orcs.
Something rustled behind you and your hand flew to your short sword. Your eyes darted around, breath hitched in your chest. Were there orcs about this evening? Most of them had been driven away, especially after the destruction of the Ring, but there was always the risk of stray orcs around. The forest settled, still and silent, but you kept your steps light and quiet as you continued on.
You neared the rock face and raised a hand to the rough surface. Idhron had said that the entrance looked little more than a crack, just wide enough for a man, and that what differentiated it from other cracks was the feeling of the stone. He had said that it would be cool and damp, and that there would be a change in the air, a subtle rushing in of the breeze. You continued past a few fissures until you felt exactly what he described. With a final glance behind you, you slipped into the stone.
You felt along the wall of the crevice, eyes adjusting to the dim, careful not to stumble on any errant stones or steps. There was a faint glow on the wall ahead, orange and warm, and you frowned. Torches? A fire? But Henneth Annûn was supposed to be empty. You drew your sword and rounded the corner.
“Do not move if you value your life,” a voice said, low and stern.
You froze and blinked at the hooded figures in front of you. Their weapons were drawn. Your eyes darted to the white tree on the leather breastplates of the men and you relaxed a fraction.
“Peace,” you said, lowering your sword. “I come from Minas Tirith.”
“We were not informed of any other parties dispatched to Ithilien. And you do not look like a messenger.”
“I come on behalf of Ioreth, of the Houses of Healing.” You sheathed your sword and offered the pommel, where the crest of the white tree was embossed, to the man. “Would the Enemy carry a sword from The White City? I think not.”
The figure threw his hood back and you flinched. Captain Faramir.
Prince Faramir.
“My lord,” you murmured, stunned, and he gestured for his company to lower their weapons.
His grey eyes were cold and stern, his lips set in a displeased line. “What are you doing here? Do you not know that there are still dangers lurking in Ithilien?”
“I am well aware. But I have come on a matter of urgency — I am in search of a plant, a herb, that they require. I have been searching for the last two days.”
“And you would dare venture out alone?” He frowned. “Why were we not informed of such an errand? My men and I could have found the plant for you.”
“By the time Ioreth realised what plant she required, your men had already departed. And it is not as though we, in the Houses of Healing, are told where the rangers go.”
His brow cleared a little but his jaw was still tense.
“As for leaving the city alone — there were no others we could spare to come with me. Our little band of foragers are not as well staffed as the rangers and guards,” you muttered, a hint of bitterness lacing your tone. “I was not going to let some woman die simply because I had no companion on this quest.”
“I cannot decide if you are brave or foolish,” he muttered and nodded to dismiss his men. They took one final glance at you then wandered off further into the cavern. “How did you find this place?”
“Idhron told me. It was getting dark, so I thought such a shelter would be a good place to camp for the night.”
He sighed and shook his head. “Come, my men were just about to sit and eat before we were alerted to your intrusion. Join us, and we can talk.”
He led you to one of the caverns where a few worn tables and chairs were scattered about. Some of the Rangers ate at the tables, but most were seated on some woven mats on the floor. Braisers lit and warmed the space and the distant hush of the waterfall echoed above the chatter. Faramir handed you a bowl of stew and a piece of bread and sat with you at one of the empty tables.
“How do you know Idhron?” he asked.
“He is a friend of the family. They did not wish for me to join the rangers as they thought it would be too dangerous but I did not wish to be designated to a life of weaving or scribing. He had suggested foraging for the Houses of Healing as a sort of compromise. It allows me to be in the wilds, but the work is far less perilous than that of a ranger.”
He hummed. “He is a wise man.”
You nodded and went back to your stew. How strange it was to be seated at a table with Faramir. Prince Faramir, you reminded yourself. You tucked your dirt stained fingernails under your palm and tried not to slurp while you ate. You glanced up, eyes trailing over his wavy hair, to his proud brow, down to his lips and short beard. He truly was handsome up close; it was no wonder the Houses of Healing were all a flutter with gossip after he had stayed there. His eyes met yours and you nearly choked on your stew.
You cleared your throat and let your eyes fall to the table.
“Tell me about this plant,” he said.
“I do not know what its proper name is but we call it Dawn Root. It is leafy and unassuming and the only way to find it is to listen for it.”
“To listen?”
“Yes, it… it chimes. It is easiest heard at dawn, hence its name.”
“How curious. I have never heard of such a thing,” he murmured. “Will you be searching for it tomorrow morning?”
You nodded, and he said, “I would like to accompany you, if you are amenable to that.” His gaze had softened, the firelight melting the steel in them. “It is not because I think you are incapable. I simply wish to see this strange plant.”
Your stomach lurched and you gave him a hesitant nod.
”I must confess to some curiosity about how a practised forager goes about it. We are taught some basics, enough to keep us alive, but I’m certain there’s still much more to learn. Even after the sun has risen, perhaps we can still forage, if you do not mind sparing some time to show me.”
Your eyes dropped to your half-eaten stew. Faramir wished to learn from you? “What would you wish to know about?”
“Mushrooms,” he murmured, a slight smile in his voice. “We’re taught mostly to avoid them unless we are absolutely certain they are not poisonous, and even then, most of us are wary. I am fond of morels, but I know they have a deadly counterpart.”
You shrugged. “They are easy to differentiate. In fact, it is the season for them now. We might find some while we are looking tomorrow.”
“I suppose, then, I can trust you to pick some?”
Your eyes rose to meet his. They were unguarded now, so different to how he looked before, and a gentle smile was on his face. He looked like the sort of man you would cross paths with in the market or in the library. Just an ordinary man, eager for mushrooms.
“And then you’ll cook them for us?” You asked with a chuckle and he nodded. “I did not think there would come a day where I would see Prince Faramir standing over a campfire, cooking.”
The moment the words left your mouth you snapped your jaw shut. What were you thinking? Teasing him like that?
You opened your mouth to apologise but his eyes crinkled with amusement and a breathy laugh escaped from him. “Do you know how to cook?”
“Only well enough to survive.”
He grinned. “Ah, then perhaps this is something I can teach you in return.”
-
Faramir held the torch aloft and swept his eyes across the trees and shrubs. It was so dim, the sun still yet to break the horizon, that he could scarcely see beyond the torch’s little sphere of light. Every morning for the past week, he had set out with you to search for this plant. You walked beside him, steps so silent he wondered who had taught you to stalk and creep through the land, your eyes fixed on the darkness, focused yet distant.
The light illuminated your profile, highlighting it in a soft orange. He followed the line of light down from the line of your forehead to the swell of your lips. You had shown up at the cave with your hair mussed and your skin shiny with sweat, and yet, in that moment, you seemed to him more beautiful than the courtly ladies of Gondor.
Ever since his appointment as Prince of Ithilien, it seemed like there was no end to the subtle romantic overtures from the nobles.
There was no need for an advantageous match, both Boromir and Aragorn assured him, but even if there was, he could not betray himself to pick someone based on some arbitrary checklist of what would make a good partner. It wrenched his heart each time he spoke with the ladies — they were lovely and polite, intelligent and funny, but they were all lacking a certain something he could not name.
It seemed, to him, with each passing day, that he was destined to be a bachelor like his brother, though unlike Boromir, it would not be of his choosing.
When his brother had offered to temporarily take over the post of Steward while Faramir cleared and reestablished Ithilien, Faramir had marshalled his men and left the city within the week. It would be good to get away from the empty rooms and halls, away from the hollowness that echoed the loneliness within him.
Some part of him missed the warm and dry library, the scent of books and paper, but there was peace to be had in the wild too, in the quiet of the caverns, the stillness of the morning. And even now, in the silent understanding between two people united in the quest for something.
He squinted out into the dark and sighed. “We can hardly see in such low light. Perhaps we set out too early this morning.”
“You are not using the right sense, my lord,” you said, a sly smile growing on your face. “As I said, it chimes.”
“I cannot hear anything.”
“Perhaps if your steps were not so loud…” You flashed him a smile and he chuckled, a strange warm feeling growing in his chest. How long had it been since someone, anyone, aside from his company and his brother, dared to joke with him?
“My steps are hardly making a sound. You move like a cat; it is unnatural.”
“What is unnatural is seeing you out here.” You laughed. “I thought that —” Your smile vanished and you glanced away. “Forgive me, sometimes I forget myself, especially away from the city. I did not mean any offence.”
“I am not offended.” He smiled. “I would like to hear what you were about to say.”
You eyed him, hesitant, then looked away and spoke your words to the woods instead. “I… I thought that you would prefer to be in the city. I am well aware that you were, are, a good captain and ranger, but your love of literature and lore is just as fabled. I did not think you would return to your former roles now that we are in a time of peace.”
“Such a sentiment certainly isn’t unfounded,” he mused. “But sometimes even I, too, find the city a little stifling. It is nice to simply exist as oneself, unobserved by people.”
“I shall do my best to keep my eyes to myself then.” You laughed and he relished the sound before you pursed your lips and forced yourself to stop. “Um, what about your men?”
“We have travelled a long and weary road together. We see each other as friends.”
You opened your mouth then closed it with a snap, forging forward, and his chest tightened. He had thought that all the nightly conversations at dinner would have put you at ease with him but alas. He wished you would speak freely, like you did late at night when your tongue was loosened with fatigue.
He adored the way you would speak of your little adventures out of the city, eyes aglow with a fond smile on your lips. How you had one too many mishaps with a collapsing tent, how one of your companions taught you the shapes of the stars, how there was no greater thrill than discovering some strange new herb.
And just last night, you had leaned close to him while he fried the morels. The cavern was loud with chatter, but he had deliberately kept his voice low and gestured for you to move closer when you said you could not hear him. He could smell you, musk and moss and lemon from the homemade bar of soap you said you brought. You were so real, so alive. And when an errant strand of hair fell over your forehead, his fingers twitched to tuck it behind your ear.
If he were to do such a thing, would you welcome it? Or would the height of his station prevent you from entertaining such a notion? It vexed him, the way you would speak to him as an equal, a friend, then suddenly pull back, withdrawing to formalities. Perhaps he should make it clear to you that there was no need for such things.
“I was thinking…” he began.
“Hush,” you whispered. “I hear it.”
He stilled, straining his ears, and there, just faintly to his right, was a clear tinkle. You followed the sound, pausing every other step to listen, and he trailed after you. The first of the sun’s rays spilled through the trees, casting the forest, and you, in a hazy glow. His eyes lingered on the lines and curves of your body, marvelling at your grace.
You let out a triumphant cry and knelt a few paces in front of him. Just as you had said, the plant, leafy and unassuming, was chiming softly. You gently dug it out and cradled it in the palm of your hand. Its roots were a deep crimson and remained undamaged. You grinned at him, so open and so genuine that his heart ached with some unknown feeling.
“I must head for the city at once,” you said, tucking the plant into a canvas bag.
“You do not have a horse, correct?”
“A horse? Valar, where would I get a horse? They have been in short supply since the war, and Rohan are yet to send more over. And should the city even have some, the guards and messengers would take precedence over the foragers.”
“I did not realise your company was so ill-equipped.” A strange discomfort settled in his stomach. “It is no matter. We have some horses, please, take one.”
You blinked at him, astonished. “Where do you keep them?”
“There is another tunnel in the rock face not far from the cave entrance. It is large enough for horses to pass through and widens onto a grassy plateau. Come, let us make haste.”
You nodded and the both of you hurried back to Henneth Annûn. While you gathered your things, he untied and retrieved a horse for you. When would he see you again? He supposed he could always visit the Houses of Healing and ask for you, but perhaps you would not appreciate that. You still seemed a little ill at ease with him and, despite his own stirring feelings towards you, he would not wish to discomfit you further. With a sigh, he led the horse out to meet you.
Saddled and ready, you gave him a lingering look, then turned and galloped away.
-
You handed Ioreth the most recent bunch of gathered herbs, trying to ignore the curious glances the other women gave you. Ever since you arrived in the city three weeks ago on Faramir’s horse, the Citadel and the Houses of Healing have been abuzz with rumours. It did not help that a couple of days after your return, a messenger had arrived at the Houses of Healing with a letter for you with the bright blue wax seal of Ithilien stark on the envelope. Your foraging company knew better than to ask, but it seemed everyone else was not above gossip.
Iotheth gave the whispering women a stern look, thanked you for your herbs, and handed you another list of plants required.
You grumbled to yourself. Faramir’s horse! You did not know it was his, but perhaps you should have noticed the round medallion on the bridle which bore the newly created crest of Ithilien. Still, in the quiet of the night, you wondered why he had chosen that particular horse for you. Perhaps it was the most agreeable one they had, or maybe it was the most well rested, or he thought that sending you on his horse would be the most efficient way for you to reach the city without anyone stopping you.
Or perhaps… perhaps he simply wished to send you on his horse.
No, no. What a foolish thought. Evenings spent in conversation and mornings spent foraging and letters sent with the supply carts and messengers was hardly a basis for anything more than friendship.
Still, the letters had been unusually intimate. There were the usual inquiries about the patients and medicinal herbs, how the outpost in Henneth Annûn was coming along, whether the resource changes he and Boromir agreed on were helping your company of foragers, but there were also little personal comments and questions.
Other women here in the city might beg to differ, but I think the Rangers’ uniform is far more attractive than the guards’.
You’ve never used a bow? They can be quite handy, especially when hunting dinner. Perhaps when I am back in the city I can teach you.
Thank you for the pressed primrose you sent, they remind me quite fondly of my time in Ithilien. Do you have a favourite flower?
We’ve had another delicious morel dinner. I must confess that the sight of them makes me think of you.
It would amuse you to know I overheard some ladies mourning your absence from the city. Though, I begrudgingly admit that I share their sentiment.
The lily perfume Ioreth made for you sounds lovely. I imagine it must smell wonderful on you.
No, I do not write to you out of a sense of obligation. I look forward to your letters; you bring me more joy than you can ever know.
And each time he had signed his letter as ‘Faramir’. Not ‘Captain Faramir’ or ‘Prince Faramir’, but just… Faramir.
Your heart fluttered when you thought of that, but you squashed the feeling as soon as it arose. He was a prince, for Valar’s sake. And you were just… just…
Ioreth’s voice broke through your thoughts. “Girl,” she said, amusement in her eyes. “You have a visitor.”
“Who in Arda would come see me here?” you groused, pocketing her plant list. “All my friends are out —”
Faramir stood in the archway, his cheeks red from the wind and his cape hem muddied.
“Not all your friends, I hope,” he said, an unsure smile on his face.
“Fara — My lord,” you muttered, bowing your head a little.
His brows drew together. “Please, I am certain we are past such formalities.” You cast a nervous glance around the room and his frown deepened. “Shall we speak elsewhere? There is something I wish to discuss with you.”
You nodded and led him to one of the secluded gardens outside. “I did not know you were returning to the city,” you said.
“I had thought of sending a letter but I thought what I wished to discuss would be best done in person.”
“That sounds serious,” you murmured. “Not ill tidings, I hope?”
You paused by one of the shrubs, rubbing a waxy leaf between your fingers, avoiding his eyes. What could be so important he would make the trip back from Ithilien?
“I hope you will forgive me for being selfish,” he said. “Coming to the Houses of Healing and seeking you out. I am not oblivious to the… the rumours circulating around the city.”
You took a hesitant look at him. “So why did you come?”
“I wished to see your face when you give your reply.” He swallowed and clasped his fidgety hands behind his back. “I have read your letters again and again, trying to find some sort of hint or clue in them, and in your last letter… You said I brought you joy.”
You stared at him, the sound of your heart loud in your ears. The words had slipped from you before you realised, but you had left them in, a cautious declaration of how you felt, hoping that he would take it as a friend being overly sentimental.
“I must know,” he said. “Is there… Is there a chance you might return my feelings?”
“Your feelings?” you stuttered, scarcely believing what he was saying.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “You are a most singular person to me and there has been no other who has captured my heart so.”
He paused and looked at you, hopeful and apprehensive all at once. You gaped at him.
Singular… Captured his heart… All this time, he felt the same?
“Ah,” he said, voice flat, eyes shuttering. “I suppose your silence is enough of an answer.” He took a step back. “Forgive me, I —”
“Wait, no, please.”
He stilled but his face remained impassive.
“I am simply in disbelief,” you said in a rush. “I did not think… I dare not hope…” A strangled laugh burst from you. “Of course, of course I share your feelings.”
A smile spread slowly across his face and he offered his hand, palm up, to you. You reached out, but the sight of your hands, rough and dirt stained, stopped you.
“Why do you hesitate?” he murmured.
“Faramir, you are a prince. And I am not of equal standing or birth.”
“I do not care for such things. You are kind and brave, and smart and good-humoured.” He offered his hand once more and you tentatively curled your fingers around his. “And you are beautiful.”
He tugged on your hand and you stepped closer. Slowly, slowly, he brought his forehead to yours. You sucked in a deep breath, inhaling his scent of leather and musk, relishing his nearness after so many weeks. He nudged your temple with his nose and pressed a kiss to your temple.
He hummed, low and satisfied. “The perfume really does smell wonderful on you. I suppose I must smell a bit ripe in comparison. Though, in my defence, it was a swift ride, and I was far too eager to see you.”
“I think you would benefit from a bath, yes.” You chuckled and drew back. “But Faramir, what about the court?”
“Tongues will always wag, my love,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “But we shall face them together. And besides, you have already shown your service and care for the people. What more could Gondor ask of you as my partner?”
“I suppose I cannot argue with that.” You grinned. “But maybe, we could proceed slowly? I do not think I would fare well if I were immediately tossed into society.”
“Of course. And it shall give me time to court you, properly. I will be returning from Ithilien soon, and then I assure you, there will be flowers and walks and picnics.”
“And mushrooms?”
He laughed and kissed your cheek. “Yes, and mushrooms.”
---
A/N: Lowkey feel like the pacing was a bit off. I originally planned for it to be longer, but my brain decided to be shitty lmao so I had to pare it back. I hope the flow is still okay.
Nirnroot was inspiration for the Dawn Root, lmk if anyone picked up on that lol
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incorrect middle earth starring y/n #6
*Faramir comes home absolutely drunk, undresses, and stands in Y/n’s bedroom.*
Y/n: Darling, are you.. coming to bed?
Faramir: No thank you, I’m sure you’re lovely but I have a girlfriend.
Faramir: *Lies on the ground and falls asleep*
Y/n: ...
#im in love with faramir and making it everyone elses problem#lotr x reader#lotr#lord of the rings#incorrect quotes#lord of the rings incorrect quotes#lotr incorrect quotes#faramir lotr#faramir#faramir x reader#faramir x y/n
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Fuck the Forbidden Pt. 2
[Boromir/F!MermaidReader]
PART 1 | PART 3 — coming soon
Fuck the Forbidden: FTF LINK MASTERLIST
A.N: my apologies for taking so much time to update: graduate school is a tornado, plus getting sick and the craziness of holidays season didn’t help. Anyways, thank you for your patience and your continuous support! I literally read all your comment in order to inspire me to write again!
Request: none
Pairing: Boromir X Fem!MermaidReader
Summary: The Reader is a Mermaid and witnessed a shipwreck. She becomes interested in human life—particularly one human: Boromir.
Disclaimer: Any mythology relating to the mermaids of middle earth is not canon. also I tried my best with arda water/river geography plz don’t come at me—it’s not one of my finer subjects :/
Word Count: 5.7k — listen, yes, I STILL have a problem
Warnings: depression, drowning, ptsd, alcoholism, angst, comfort, fluff, stalking (idk how to make that last one sound less creepy. you’re just gonna have to read it).
MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD
The following day, (Y/N) waited in the depths of the Anduin River by the entrance of the Minas Tirith castle. Sure enough, the captain, decorated in silver, came out upon his steed. Though he did not have the cheer he normally held—despite his recent struggles—he seemed….different. (Y/N) had hoped that he didn't remember what he saw under the lake. Maybe he figured he was too drunk and his mind was playing tricks on him? Maybe he would forget it all together? However, that fearful look in his eyes when he glanced at the river told her otherwise. It appeared Faramir failed to convince his brother that the mer-folk were just a myth.
Boromir deviated from his routine as well. He did not go to the market for the breakfast that he seemed to love. No, no. Instead he went out towards the edge of the city–towards the docks. And (Y/N) went with him. He passed his horse off to another and walked upon the wood, passing ship and boat, until he came upon a small fishing vessel. (Y/N) swam around it and took to the surface upon its side, far enough to not be spotted, but close enough to see and hear.
“Iwar,” Boromir called out. “You there?”
“Oi!” the old man replied, emerging from the sails. “What can I do for yer?”
“You have a moment?”
“For ye? Of course I do, lad. What is this about?” Iwar stated, squinting in the sun.
Boromir huffed, and pulled something from his pocket. He lightly tossed it to the older fellow. “What do you make of this?”
Iwar frowned, holding the whale up before his face by the string Boromir had used to make it into a necklace. “Where’d ye get it?”
“In a pond. One that connects to the Anduin River.”
Iwar sent him a strange look. “Do ye know what this is made out of?”
Boromir shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.
“It’s bone, Boromir,” he replied tentatively.
At this, the captain’s lips parted. “Bone?”
Iwar tossed the whale carving back to him. “Aye, couldn't tell ye what it came from. Whittled too much away for that. Ye said yer got it from a pond?”
He nodded, swallowing dryly.
“Could’ve washed up from the currents.” Iwar stated, nonchalantly, returning to the tasks of his sail. “Some trinket someone lost to the sea.”
Boromir dipped his head, his anxiety present as he fiddled with the whale.
Iwar glanced at him. “Something else, boy?”
Boromir inhaled slowly. “Iwar, do you–do you really believe those tales of the sea-folk?”
The old man sent a weary look at the captain as he tied off one of the ropes upon the fabric. “Aye. Saw one of em’ when I was just a lad. Nearly lost my life.”
Boromir focused his gaze upon Iwar. “I think–I think I saw one last night.”
At this, the older man froze. Slowly, he turned his full attention to the captain, dread slipping from his face.
Still, Boromir continued, trying to justify his sighting. ‘Though, I don't know. I was very drunk. Had a couple ales too many. My mind could’ve—”
“You were out on the sea last night?” Iwar interrupted, confused.
Boromir shook his head.
“The shore then? Never heard of em’ venturing so close.”
Boromir released a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh, I was in the pond by the Minas Tirith castle.”
Iwar’s form stiffened as he walked toward the captain. He nodded at the bone carving in Boromir’s hand as he spoke in a tone that held so much anxiety that it radiated through the air around him. “The same pond where ye found that?”
“Yes.”
Iwar’s eyes widened wildly. “I’d tell ye what, lad. Ye have been marked by em.’ And that—” he dipped his head at the whale once more. “—I reckon that's human bone.”
Blood drained from Boromir’s face, replaced with sheer panic. His fingers clumsily grappled with the carving, uncertain of how to handle it. Reluctant to make direct contact, he hesitated before settling on gripping the string, allowing the whale to dangle. Disgust etched across his brow.
“I’d get out while ye can. Stay away from the sea waters, boy.” Iwar warned.
….
That night, Boromir didn't go to the pool of water by the white walls—nor the following night. He, quite frankly, didn't go near the water at all. He stayed far from the beaches and from the Anduin River. He took longer paths to where he needed to go in order to avoid such circumstances that put him near what Iwar had described to live in the sea.
And this—all this broke (Y/N)’s heart. It stirred up a tumult of emotions—sadness, anger, fear, and frustration. Therefore, on the third day, she sought solace in a secluded nook along the Bay of Belfas. Hoisting herself onto a warm rock, she sat, enveloped in her misery. Her once-vivid fantasies of the land-people and Boromir now dissolved into sorrow and regret. What lingered was the haunting image of Boromir's disdainful expression when Iwar speculated that her gift was crafted from human bone. Any mer-folk would be delighted to receive such a heartfelt gesture! But Boromir wasn't of the sea, now was he.
(Y/N) stayed upon the rock for hours, hoping the sun would soak up her melancholy mood. However, that is not what the golden beams absorbed. Her skin dried, her hair lightened and billowed freely, and the scales on her tail lacked the moisture they once held. It was at that moment discomfort struck. Excruciating, searing pain surged through her tail, a relentless agony that prompted a deep cry from her lips. Every nerve seemed to flare with an intense, burning sensation, rendering her nearly paralyzed by the sheer intensity of the pain. She couldn't move, only shake and claw at the rock she perched upon. It felt like hours as she laid there, praying to the gods to make it end. And when it did, she instinctively reached for her scales. However, to her surprise, her hand met no such thing; instead, flesh had replaced the once-familiar tail.
(Y/N) gasped.
Her father had said…
He had tested them all…
None had the gift….
He lied.
Emotions swirled around her naked form as she stared at the strange extension that replaced her glimmering scales—legs. Anger, irritation, sadness, regret, frustration, excitement all ran through her blood.
Slowly, she stood. As she took a wobbly step upon the rock, a loud, breathy giggle escaped her lips.
Was this a dream?
(Y/N) took another uncertain step, and another, and another—until she stumbled, her hand reaching out to break her fall. However, a splash came from that, for her palm struck where water had gathered in a dip upon the rock.
Immediately, she felt it.
Her skin tingled, then burned and stung, stretching and pulling in a painful dance. (Y/N) cried out as the pain intensified. With scales attempting to form on her dry legs, the tugging became excruciating once more—tears streamed from her eyes as she desperately scrambled towards the water.
Her form slipped and rolled, right off the rock and into the ocean.
Immediate relief enveloped her. Scales continued to knit together without a hint of pain. The water soothed her. It coated the soreness into nonexistence.
(Y/N) allowed her form to sink, adjusting.
There she floated, letting her body and mind adjust to what had just happened.
It was then when one of the turmoiling emotions overtook the rest of them. It coursed through her gills and surged through her veins.
How dare he…
With a decisive flick of her tail, she propelled herself toward her father's palace.
The anger granted her remarkable speed, causing other merfolk to whip their heads around in confusion as she barreled past them.
She swam directly to the grand chamber, where she anticipated her father perched upon his throne, and busted the door open with her tail.
“HOW DARE YOU?!” she screamed at him.
Heads turned instantly—her father’s, her sisters’, the guards’.
“HOW DARE YOU LIE TO ME, FATHER. HOW DARE YOU NOT TELL ME I HAD THE GIFT?!”
Her father rose, signaling the guards to leave. They swam away quickly, avoiding the impending wrath of the sea's king and his children.
“You lied straight to my face,” (Y/N) stated.
“(Y/N), what are you talking about?” Anahita interjected, appalled by her sister’s tone.
Mareena added to her statement. “That is no way to speak to our father!”
(Y/N)'s tail flicked with irritation as she focused her gaze on the man before her. “I have the gift to walk among the land-folk.”
Una gasped. Seria’s mouth dropped open. Rana’s eyes widened. Nerida’s brows shot upwards.
Their father swam towards (Y/N). “You went to the land?!” he growled. “It is forbidden.”
“I DID NOT GO ONTO THE LAND!” She snapped back. Taking a deep breath, she spoke again. “I was letting the sun warm me upon a rock when it happened—the tingling, the splitting, the pain.”
“You went to the surface—”
“How dare you not tell me, Father!”
“I DID NOT TELL YOU BECAUSE OF THIS!” He yelled. “Because I knew the minute you would figure it out, you would want to test out your new form. You would put us all in danger.”
“YOU HAVE PUT ME IN DANGER. YOU HAVE MASKED YOUR PROTECTION IN LIES THAT HAVE ONLY CAUSED ME PAIN. HOW DARE YOU!” (Y/N) retorted.
With that, (Y/N) swam away. She twisted through the reefs and the grass. She slipped through the schools of fish and their bubbles. She slithered through the rocks and caves. She did so until she was back in the Anduin River, where the lively markets and the hustle of people's households awaited. Breaking through the water's surface, she emerged with a cautious awareness, ensuring she remained unseen.
She swam along the edge until she came upon a line of clothing strung between two buildings. On it hung sheets as bright as a lemonpeel angelfish, a skirt holding the vibrance of an orange clownfish, a flowing wrap the hue of a blue tang fish, a pair of trousers the color of a brown leafy sea dragon, a top shaded like that of a pink fairy wrasse, and a flowing dress the cream color of a stingray’s belly.
(Y/N) looked at her surroundings.
The people were on the other side of the clothing line—all mucking about in the market. None even bothered to shed a glance behind the fabric. All were too busy going about their day.
Therefore, with little regard for the forbidden nature of her actions—because, really, fuck the forbidden—(Y/N) decided to defy the rules that had once controlled her life.
Originally, she hadn't intended to act in such defiance, but the anger coursing through her veins urged her forward into impulsive urges.
Hauling her form out of the water, (Y/N) manipulated the water clinging to her, using her fingers in twisting and rippling motions. She gathered the liquid into a cohesive ball and, with a flick of her wrist, sent the sphere dancing through the air before it plopped back into the river.
The tingling sensation began, followed by the excruciating pain, and soon enough, the transformation into legs commenced.
Anxiously, (Y/N) stood. Her shaky legs wobbled as she adjusted to their unfamiliar form. Her trembling fingers swiftly seized the cream colored dress—she didn't want to stand out, she needed to blend in—and she clumsily slipped it on. Her gaze then fixated on a brilliant blue wrap. The color resonated with the deep seas she hailed from, and she couldn't resist. The mermaid grasped the silk and yanked, winding it around her hair in a manner she had observed from land women when peeking from the river. Letting some of her locks cascade out of the twisted band, the blue fabric draped over her shoulders. She smiled.
Her hand instinctively rose to her neck, where her necklace adorned with shells, sea glass, and bones encircled her skin. A frown crossed her face. She couldn't part with it—this cherished gift from her since passed mother. Therefore, she let it remain, finding that it didn't look too out of place.
(Y/N) ventured into the market, nervously navigating the bustling city of Minas Tirith with her new, wobbly legs. The vibrant atmosphere teemed with life and excitement as diverse groups came together to weave the people into the human race. So many men, women, and children—all different sizes, all different shapes, all different skin tones—bustled through the streets.
Young children ran through the tents playing games and tricks on one another. Often enough, a woman was pursuing the chase while yelling for their halt of mischief. Men were not involved in this matter. Instead, they loudly called out the names of what they sold, along with prices, at the busy passerbyers in hopes of getting a customer. Never had (Y/N) seen something so brilliantly enthralling and engaging—not in her time under the sea with the mer-folk.
As she moved through the people, she discreetly snagged what she needed. A pair of sandals disappeared from a rack, and she swiftly turned away before anyone noticed. Vibrantly colored bracelets caught her eye at a vendor's stall, and she couldn't resist snagging a few. Additionally, she plucked food from bins and baskets. She didn't know what it was—but oh how delicious it tasted when it was not dunked in the salt of the sea.
Here, (Y/N) stayed, exploring the thrill of humanity and letting their culture enrapture her senses. So much so, that she failed to notice a soldier adorned in silver until she collided with his metal-plated chest.
Her form tumbled backwards, taking an extra moment to steady.
“Are you alright, miss?” a concerned voice inquired.
(Y/N) slowly raised her head to meet a familiar face: Faramir.
Unable to find her voice, she could only nod in reply. Shyness and anxiety filled her as she backed away from the unexpected encounter.
He acknowledged her reply with a dip of his own head before turning to another soldier a little ways away. He made way towards him and gently touched his arm. “Boromir, we should get going. Father is expecting us.”
(Y/N) went still. Her inquisitive gaze shifted towards him, and indeed, there stood Boromir. His dark, sandy hair brushed upon his forehead, tousled slightly from the refreshing breeze. Vibrant blue eyes held a sternness, concealing the sadness she knew resided in his heart. His pink lips pressed into a firm line, refraining from the warmth of a smile. Boromir was clad in the silver armor and the metal weapons that she had seen him in nearly every day. He looked fit for his position as captain, his authority nearly radiating from him. Now that she was upon the land, he seemed so much bigger—so much stronger. So much more important.
(Y/N)’s cheeks began to heat, prompting her to quickly ducked behind the fabric of a tent. After giving herself a moment, she peaked out.
Though she knew she shouldn't, she found herself following them. At a safe distance, she mimicked every turn, accentuated every step, and utilized every path they took. And when the Steward's sons crossed the threshold of Minas Tirith Castle, so did she.
Instantly, she was met with just as much business as the market. Servants flooded the halls, carrying trays of fruit and platters of meat. Maids held onto neatly folded laundry and finely pressed sheets. Guards bustled about, their steel clanking as they moved through the halls, to get to their next shift, meal, or rest.
(Y/N) was so overwhelmed that she failed to notice a group of soldiers rounding the corner. As they pushed past her, a heavy shoulder slammed into her, the edge of the metal plate catching her forehead. The impact sliced the skin open, causing her to tumble backward against the wall.
Surprising her, she felt a gentle hand upon her arm, holding her steady. A soft voice that she knew all too well, that spoke words all too similar to his brother’s, filled her ears. “Are you alright, miss?”
In a daze, (Y/N) looked up at the dark sandy hair, vibrant blue eyes, and perfect pink lips of Boromir. Too stunned to speak, she merely stared at him, every thought that had occupied her mind vanishing in the moment.
Boromir turned towards the group of soldiers who had caused the commotion and knocked her down. With a tone infused with authority and anger, he snapped at them, “Watch where you are going!”
They turned, initially confused and uncertain of Boromir's reprimand until they spotted the frightened and injured girl beside him.
“What kind of soldiers are you that you let your steel hit a woman!” Boromir added, his irritation even more obvious. “Keep better track of your things—and your forms!”
The soldiers nodded, though their indifference was evident, and they shuffled away without much concern.
Boromir turned back to (Y/N), repeating his prior question, his tone gentle once more. “I apologize for the actions of my men. I will reprimand them later, but right now you are more important, yes? Miss?”
She looked up at him, blinking. He didn’t recognize her, did he?
“You’re bleeding,” he stated softly, his finger pressed gently upon her forehead.
A quiet gasp of pain escaped (Y/N)’s lips and her expressions distorted slightly.
“My apologies. I did not mean to make your pain worse. May I take you to the infirmary? We can get that treated.”
Unsure what to say—and what an infirmary was—she nervously dipped her head.
“Alright,” he began. “Let’s get you moving.”
Gently, he helped her move away from the wall, one arm wrapped around her waist. However, with a couple steps, her vision swirled and she stumbled.
Boromir caught her quickly. “Whoa, whoa. Slow down. Just a step at a time.” His brows pulled together as he looked down at her. “Are you dizzy? Is the room spinning?”
“I—I,” she stuttered. “Y-yes, uh, sir.”
He released a heated breath from his nose, the anger at the men who had harmed her simmering within him. However, he pushed it away, ensuring his attention remained on her. "How about you sit back down? Lean against the wall to keep you upright, yes?"
(Y/N) nodded, allowing him to help lower her to the stone floor. As the coldness rushed through her bones and the stillness began to steady, she looked up at him. “T-thank you,” she whispered. “Uh, sir.”
The captain smiled softly. “You may call me Boromir.”
She nodded slightly.
Boromir looked up and stopped a passing servant. “Could you please fetch me a medical kit from the infirmary? Just basic supplies.”
The man nodded, accepting the order, and rushed off. Moments later, he returned with various materials in a small box.
Boromir expressed his gratitude as he opened the kit. Without hesitation, he took hold of a soft cloth and gently swiped it upwards, collecting the blood that was now trickling down (Y/N)’s forehead. He then pressed it against the cut that was bleeding rather heavily. "Hold this there," he commanded gently.
The woman reached up to follow his instructions, and Boromir proceeded to lay out an array of little bottles and scraps of cloth. "What is your name?" he inquired as he doused a cloth in the liquids of one of the containers.
Her eyes followed his motions nervously. “(Y/N),” she replied timidly.
The Captain smiled, attempting to provide some comfort. “Are you from around here, (Y/N)?”
She shook her head.
“No? What are you doing in these parts then?” He asked.
“I—I don’t know.”
Boromir frowned, looking up at her from the medical supplies. She appeared more disoriented than he had initially expected. Perhaps the blow to the head was more substantial than he had thought?
“You don’t know?” He questioned, no alarm in his tone. Meanwhile, he began threading a needle, preparing it for the task of stitching her forehead. “Have you come with anyone? A husband? A father?”
She frowned, a blush creeping into her face at the implications of his words. “N-no. Alone.”
Boromir pressed his lips together, a sudden loneliness hitting him—one that he knew all too well—as he placed the threaded needle upon a clean cloth.
“Do you have a place to stay?”
She shook her head.
“Hmm. Alright. Let’s get you cleaned up, then we can worry about that.”
Boromir took the cloth from her forehead, his hand brushing upon hers as he did so. He then began bringing a damp cloth towards her face.
Instantly, her eyes went wide and she ducked away from the material. “It’s alright. It’s alright. It’s just alcohol.” He replied, lowering the cloth.
“N-not water?” She whispered, almost fearful.
He shook his head. “Nay. Water would not clean it properly. This will prevent any infection, though I’m afraid it will sting a bit. Is that alright?”
Slowly, (Y/N) nodded.
Boromir pressed the cloth to the cut and, instantly, she hissed.
“I know, I am sorry,” he murmured.
Gently, he cleaned the wound, being careful to not make any sudden movements that may startle her. When he was certain it was clean, he moved to pick up the needle.
“I will have to stitch it back together so it heals properly.” He looked into her worried gaze and he instantly felt guilt tugging at his heart. It appeared she had never experienced such an injury, or perhaps she had but never received proper treatment for one.
Cautiously, he used his other hand to pick up her own. Her soft palms brushed upon his hardened calloused, gentleness upon her touch. Placing her hand upon his knee, he spoke softly, “If it hurts too much just squeeze really really hard, and I will pause, alright? It is important that you keep your head still, yes?”
She nodded, adjusting her grip upon his knee, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety in her eyes.
Slowly, Boromir began the delicate task of stitching her skin back together. Her grip tightened upon him, only slightly, as she adjusted to the strange sensation of tugging on her skin.
"You are doing beautifully, (Y/N). We are almost done. I promise," the Captain reassured her. As he finished the last stitch and skillfully moved the thread to knot itself, he breathed out, "There we go," placing the needle back upon the cloth. He smiled gently, a reassuring warmth in his eyes, as he carefully cleaned the area around the stitches. "All finished," Boromir stated before leaning back, (Y/N)’s hand slipping from his knee.
“It will be sore for a bit,” he said. “But it should heal in a week. The stitching will fall out on its own, so if it starts to come out, do not worry. Though, I would advise you not to get it wet.”
At that last sentence, (Y/N) smiled softly. She wasn’t planning on getting wet—not anytime soon.
“Can you stand? Has the dizziness subsided?”
The woman nodded and slowly rose to her feet, taking Boromir’s hand when he offered it.
“Let’s find you a place to rest while you heal. And I would like to apologize for my soldiers’ actions once more. You are welcome to stay in Minas Tirith as long as you would like. I will make sure you get everything you need.”
(Y/N) looked up at his kind expression and spoke with that same nervous hesitancy. “Thank you.…Boromir.”
The captain guided her through the castle, arriving at a room. He opened the door and gestured inside with a soft smile. "It is yours to stay in. I will ensure the maids are alerted to provide you with adequate care. If you need anything else, my chambers are just down the hallway to the right, the second door."
She nodded in reply.
He bowed his head. “I will leave you then, miss.”
With that, he was gone.
(Y/N) moved to the center of the room and slowly spun around taking it all in. It was massive and airy. The windows were wind open, the sea breeze rushing in and caring hints of the city. The white curtains blew with that gentle wind, dancing in its whispers. The walls of the chamber were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting only what she could assume to be the legendary tales of the city. They were woven with beautiful silver and turquoise thread, catching the light so delicately. A bed sat in the middle of the room, soft white blankets and comforters piled on it. (Y/N) walked towards it and gently sat upon the fabric. It was….strange. Very different from the large shells she was used to curling up in.
Feeling a sudden tiredness take over her form, she laid down with ease. Resting her head upon the pillow, she allowed sleep to consume her.
…….
When she finally woke, the sun had set, and the stars took their place among the blanket of the sky. Cautiously, she pulled her legs from the cage of blankets and let them dangle off the side of the bed. They looked so….strange upon her form. She was used to her glimmering tail that collected light to share among the waters. Not—not this. She lowered her feet upon the stone floor, almost startled by the coldness that greeted them.
Hunger settled into her stomach as she moved towards the door. However, she found herself at a loss, unsure where to find a meal at this time. The markets were long since closed and she knew not where the kitchen in the Minas Tirith castle was. Of course, she could wander down to the tavern that Boromir frequented regularly—she knew the way well enough, but she didn't have any means to pay.
(Y/N) shifted on her feet. Boromir did say she could come to him if she needed anything….
Almost as if it were an excuse to see him again, she slipped through the door and began following his directions to his chambers. With every step, her heart pounded harder. She would get to see him again—and it wouldn't be through layers of water.
Upon arrival, the door stood ajar, allowing a whisper of cold air to drift from his open windows. Cautiously, she peered into the room. It was shrouded in darkness, with only the soft glow of the moon reflecting upon the vast room—oh, and what a beautiful room it was. The room eluded a captivating chaos, in the most exciting way. Tablets and shelves were filled with various items—maps, books, stones, germs, inventions, and trinkets. The room held a multitude of objects, each beckoning to be looked at, studied, and pondered—igniting a sense of wonder and an urge to guess the intention. Oh, it was a captivating sight.
“Boromir?” she called out.
Silence.
Slowly, (Y/N) stepped in. She let her feet carry her throughout the room, her hand brushing upon every object that her eyes could consume. She picked things up, examined them, then put them down for another. She did so continuously, urgently, the thirst for knowledge of the humans’ customs eager in her blood. She did so, until she came across something familiar—something she was surprised to see.
(Y/N) picked up the bone carved whale from the shelf that it rested on.
He had kept it.
A little grin formed on her face, for after his conversation with Iwar she didn’t think he would.
“Does that one interest you?” A soft tone asked.
(Y/N) jumped, startled.
Boromir chuckled lightly, stepping into the room. “I am sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.”
She glanced down at the whale carving before looking back to him.
“I am not quite sure how that one came into my possession,” he continued as he moved to stand beside her.
She frowned, looking up. Her eyes were now direct at him, focused and stern—for the first time since he had met her. He would be lying if he said it didn't startle him a bit.
“You don't remember?” she asked, her tone strong.
“Well, no it’s not that. Of course, I remember how I got it. It just was a bit peculiar.”
(Y/N) tilted her head, not understanding.
Boromir sighed, his tone was distant as he spoke, his blue gaze not wavering from her curious eyes that suddenly seemed so bold. “A friend of mine says it's a dark omen, ment to mark me for death.” His vision trailed across her face. “He says it is made of the bone of my fallen brothers, urging me to follow them to their deaths.”
“Do you believe that?”
He blinked, his gaze lingering upon the whale. “I do not know what to believe.” Boromir looked at her expression. “What are your thoughts on such a statement?”
(Y/N) shrugged, placing the whale in its spot upon the shelf. “I believe people don’t understand other cultures and customs. I believe they make their own assumptions out of ignorance and fear.”
The captain raised a brow at her intelligence. “You are feeling better then?”
“Hmm?” (Y/N) hummed in question as she moved to another object.
“Well, that is the most I have heard you speak since I met you. You are wiser than you appear to be.”
She only shrugged in response, picking up a telescope and looking through its glass—by the wrong end.
“Though,” Boromir continued in a teasing manner as he plucked the object from her grasp, turned it the correct way, and placed it back in her palms. “That wisdom seems not to extend to everything.”
She frowned, looking through the glass once before placing it down. She then went for a music box, her confused expression deepening. “We do not have all these….these things where I am from.”
Boromir reached across her and twisted the little lever, releasing the gentle music from its hold. “And where is that, may I ask?”
At the twinkling sound, her smile, born of pure delight, extended from her expression. Her response to his question, however, was only that of a simple word, “Far.”
The captain raised a brow. “How far?”
(Y/N) shot him a strange look, placing the music box down and picking up a crystal sphere instead. “You ask a lot of questions,” she mumbled.
He grinned playfully. “You do not seem to give many answers, Miss (Y/N).”
She glared at him.
With that playful smile, he spoke again. “Would it help if you got to ask a question?”
(Y/N)‘s eyes crinkled with thought as she placed the object down and turned towards him. She saw how his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, how the circles under his eyes appeared so dark, how his expression was so hollow. Softly, she spoke again. “Why are you so sad, Boromir?”
Taken aback by this, his lips parted. “I—I do not know what you mean.”
She took a step closer to him, a step that nearly eliminated the space between them, and her piercing gaze burned up at him for the truth.
Hesitantly, he whispered that truth, as if she compelled it right out of him. “I—I recently was in a shipwreck. I thought, well, I thought I was dead—left for the watery graves below.” He paused, just for a moment. “But yet I am here and I do not know why. And, I am beginning to question things that I know, well, thought I knew, for the world appears different now.”
Silence.
Boromir's soft voice then picked up again, his breath warm upon the woman’s face. “Why are you so sad, (Y/N)?”
At this, her shy nature returned. (Y/N) turned her head away, not wanting to look at the source of her sadness.
Gently, Boromir tugged on her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You implored me to tell you such a truth,” he whispered. “May I not ask the same of you?”
(Y/N)’s tone was soft. “My truth is complicated.”
“Are not all truths complicated?” he responded.
With that, she withdrew from his grasp—a hold she desperately craved—and created enough distance between them, leaving him to wonder if such closeness had occurred at all.
A loud grumble then echoed through the dark room—splitting the darkness with something else, something much for lighthearted.
“When have you last eaten?” Boromir asked.
Her brows pulled together as she looked at her stomach.
He chuckled, offering her his hand. “Come. Let’s get you some food. I can take you to my favorite place.”
“But I—I have no coin,” she whispered shyly.
“You are a guest of Gondor, Gondor will see you fed.”
(Y/N) smiled, that innocent gaze returning. She hesitantly took his hand and he led her through the castle and towards the tavern.
The two arrived at the tavern rather quickly. Urine, stale ale, and sweat flooded (Y/N)’s nostrils—familiar aromas reminiscent of her vigilant watch over Boromir along the Anduin River. The lively atmosphere enveloped the pair. In the corner, a bard sang to the patrons, his melodic voice resonating throughout, enticing some to join in. Drunk men, tapping their feet along to the beat of the tune, howled in laughter and glee as they clinked their ales together and shoveled food into their mouths. Requests for additional drinks prompted maidens, adorned in long skirts and aprons, to gracefully deliver brimming glasses, the foaming liquid sloshing about.
(Y/N) smiled, taking in the environment.
Boromir cast a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “It’s just a tavern.”
She turned to him, her grin unwavering. “We don’t have taverns where I am from.”
He raised a brow. “And where is that? You never said.”
She shrugged. “Far.”
(Y/N) moved deeper into the tavern, with Boromir following suit. He motioned towards an available table, and they both took a seat. Before long, a serving maiden approached. Boromir signaled for two meals and two ales, and they promptly arrived.
The woman wasted no time and eagerly indulged in her food, swiftly emptying the plate.
Boromir tried to suppress a smile as he saw this, for he was glad she was getting proper nutrition after her likely long and hard journey. He, of course, wished to know more of her origins; though, he could see she wasn't quite ready to discuss such things. Instead, he opted to answer any and all questions she had which began with her curious tone.
“Boromir, would you be willing to tell me of your city? How you live in these parts? I wish to know.”
His soft gaze made contact with hers and he nodded, chewing his food and swallowing before he spoke. “What would you wish to know?”
“Everything—its structures, its people, its culture, its history.”
Therefore, Boromir spoke of such things. He described the White City's towering architecture, the valor of its people, and the complexities of the various beliefs held. He relayed its history and tales, showcasing the values of the Gondorian people.
His narratives ignited a spark in her eyes, drew laughter from her lips, and filled her heart with joy.
Fuck the forbidden indeed.
As the hours stretched on, Boromir’s friends joined them. (Y/N) could see the gleam in their eyes and catch the less-than-subtle teasing tones as they whispered about Boromir bringing a lady to their tavern. Faramir, arriving shortly after, seemed prepared for a night of dealing with his drunken brother, only to find himself pleasantly surprised by his brother's apparent sobriety and the joy the unknown woman seemed to bring to his melancholy soul.
Yet, amid the cheerful atmosphere, a pair of shifting gray eyes belonging to an old man that (Y/N) recognized as Iwar, kept her uneasy heart alert.
…..
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#vayawrites#lotr#lord of the rings#the hobbit#boromir#boromir x reader#Boromir/reader#boromir fic#boromir fanfic#boromir fanfiction#boromir x you#boromir/you#boromir one shot#boromir oneshot
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Tolkien Kink Alphabet
(Which characters have these kinks)
A- Anal
Bilbo, Boromir, Kili, Legolas, Lindir, Thorin
B- Bondage
Aragorn, Fili, Haldir, Lindir, Thranduil
C- Creampie
Boromir, Fili, Glorfindel, Haldir, Thorin
D- Deepthroating
Aragorn, Bard, Boromir, Elrond, Eomer, Glorfindel, Haldir, Thorin, Thranduil
E- Exhibitionism
Eomer, Haldir, Kili
F- Fingering
Aragorn, Bard, Boromir, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Legolas, Lindir, Thorin, Thranduil
G- Gags
Haldir, Lindir, Thranduil
H- Hair Pulling
Bard, Bilbo, Boromir, Eomer, Eowyn, Faramir, Fili, Frodo, Glorfindel, Kili, Legolas, Merry, Pippin, Thorin, Thranduil
I- Intimacy
Aragorn, Arwen, Bard, Bilbo, Boromir, Elrond, Eomer, Eowyn, Faramir, Frodo, Glorfindel, Kili, Legolas, Lindir, Merry, Pippin, Thorin, Thranduil
J- Jizz
Bard, Boromir, Eomer, Fili, Glorfindel, Haldir, Kili, Thorin, Thranduil
K- Kneeling
Elrond, Glorfindel, Haldir, Thranduil
L- Love Bites
Aragorn, Bard, Boromir, Eomer, Glorfindel, Haldir, Thorin
M- Multiple Orgasms
Aragorn, Arwen, Elrond, Glorfindel, Haldir, Legolas, Lindir, Thranduil
N- Nipple Play
Arwen, Bilbo, Faramir, Frodo, Kili, Legolas, Lindir, Merry, Pippin
O- Orgasm Denial
Haldir, Legolas, Lindir, Thranduil
P- Praise
Aragorn, Arwen, Bard, Bilbo, Boromir, Faramir, Frodo, Kili, Legolas, Lindir, Merry, Pippin
Q- Quickies
Bard, Fili, Haldir
R- Riding
Bard, Bilbo, Boromir, Elrond, Eomer, Faramir, Fili, Frodo, Glorfindel, Kili, Legolas, Lindir, Merry, Pippin
S- Spanking
Elrond, Glorfindel, Haldir, Thorin, Thranduil
T- Threesome
Elrond, Glorfindel, Thorin, Thranduil
U- Uniforms
Boromir, Elrond, Glorfindel, Haldir, Thorin
V- Voyeurism
Glorfindel, Haldir, Thranduil
W- Whips
Glorfindel, Haldir, Thranduil
X- X-Cross
Elrond, Haldir, Thranduil
Y- Yelling (REALLY loud moaning)
Aragorn, Arwen, Bard, Bilbo, Boromir, Elrond, Eomer, Eowyn, Frodo, Glorfindel, Haldir, Kili, Merry, Pippin, Thorin, Thranduil
Z- Zipper Sex
Aragorn, Bard, Eomer, Haldir
#Tolkien#Tolkien imagine#lotr#lotr imagine#lord of the rings#lord of the rings imagine#the hobbit#the hobbit imagine#Bilbo Baggins#Bilbo Baggins imagine#Boromir#Boromir imagine#Kili#Kili imagine#legolas#legolas imagine#Lindir#Lindir imagine#Thorin#Thorin imagine#Aragorn#Aragorn imagine#Fili#Fili imagine#Haldir#Haldir imagine#Thranduil#Thranduil imagine#Glorfindel#Glorfindel imagine
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LOTR pref - Y/N being drunk and flirting with them 🫣🤪
Warnings: Not much Really.. fluff mixed with very light smut :)
LOTR characters x Reader 🌸
Aragorn -
At first he was laughing at you when you started drinking and just let you do you, but when you came over to him and started outlining his jawline he became panicked. As much as he wanted it he wouldn’t try anything while you’re drunk. So off to bed for you, don’t bother trying to say anything else because it will be a simple
“No. You’re drunk doll. Now sleep.”
Legolas -
He felt his fingers begin to tingle from the alcohol he was not used to. Only elvish alcohol was what he could take. But he was still slightly there to notice how drunk you got. You were a runaway elf, so you were used to running to different places and drinking different alcohols none like him. But he became instantly flustered when you sat on his lap and started playing with his hair. He just admired you with a smile and you both eventually passed out.
Boromir -
You never thought of him in a dirty way until that alcohol hit your system. You couldn’t take your eyes off him and it bothered you. But you couldn’t deny how good he looked and it helped you realised that you actually liked him. Making you confident enough to straddle his lap and kiss him. He would be shocked but quickly grin and melt into the kiss. Gradually pulling back and looking into your eyes.
“I’d kiss you again if you weren’t drunk love.”
Faramir -
You had your little pouch of goodies which secretly included little bottle of alcohol. Which due to the terrible state you were in with the war soon to be, you drank it. Faramir noticed you drinking and sat beside you, taking it a having the last amount for himself. But he wasn’t expecting you to grab his chin and make him look at you. You complimented his eyes and he got flustered but just laughed and thanked you for the drink.
“Now we should sleep, we have a long journey ahead of us darling.”
Merry -
He was dancing like a maniac with Pippin and only stopped when he was exhausted, leaning on the wall and closing his eyes as he laughed, trying to bring himself back together. Only to feel hands cupping his cheeks. He got shy when he saw you looking at him. You wanted a kiss and your eyes said it all but Merry knew it was was odd. But he was drunk as well so he also had a side that wanted to.
“Be careful Angel. I might have to ignore my mature thoughts and kiss you if you keep staring at me like that” he chuckles.
Frodo -
He was immediately flustered and confused when you gave him a back hug. Your lips placed a warm, yet soft kiss on his neck. It sent shivers throughout his body. You were only slight taller than him, but he liked that. Turning his head to look at you just shyly smiling, trying to laugh it off like he was all good and not panicking inside.
“H-Hey! It’s a fun.. ah.. party?” Shy king
Pippin -
Pippin already noticed how drunk you got and saw you checking him out as he danced. So right at the end he made the move by pulling you onto the table and kissing you. Merry laughing and everyone else clapping. You were drunk and were the one however to try and continue the kiss after you both got off the table. You grabbed his hand and took him to a private area, but Pippin didn’t care he kissed you until Aragorn showed up and asked you to the get a room. Cringing and ruining the moment making you both laugh.
Sam -
He was so sweet and kind. Not knowing how to feel when you started being all affectionate. He enjoyed it but was confused by it coming from you who was usually stubborn and nothing like that. He just panicked and talked about the first thing that came to his mind. Blushing anytime you got closer to him.
“Ah.. potatoes.. are- what are you! Potatoes I said.. they’re delicious, yes?”
Arwen -
She was just having fun with the group and smiled as you laid your head on her lap, playing with the lace on her dress. She loved how soft you looked in your drunk state. When you gently tugged on her dress and pulled her down to your level, she blushed and was fine until she noticed her father in the area and she shyly backed away and sat back up, shyly giggling.
Lindir -
You were a dwarf-human and he was not expecting you to actually enjoy elvish wine so much. But you did and he just admired you, leaning on the table and laughing at you as he swirled his wine around in his glass. Blushing when he felt your hand on his thigh under the table. Elrond was across the table from him and he would be in a whole lot of trouble if he got caught. He placed his hand on yours to try and stop you from moving at all. He definitely had a red face and was asked if he was alright by other elves.
“Yes. I’m quite alright Lord Elrond.”
#aragorn#lord of the rings#legolas#elrond#Arwen#samwise#lotr frodo#Baggins#lord of the rings preferences#fluff#smut
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Hi! I know this isn't one of your prompts, but would you mind doing a Frodo x human reader fic in which she's worried that she'll succumb to the Ring like Boromir did and Frodo will despise her for it, and Sam comforts her? Whether or not Frodo hears this is up to you (plus, I feel like how the ring would affect the reader isn't really talked about enough)
Torn in Two
Word count: 4.2k
Warnings: none, a little angsty
A/N: This is my first ever request and I had a blast writing it! Thank you! ♥
_________________________________________
“You will destroy us all! Curse you! Curse you!”
The shout came not far away. That alone was worrying, but even more, it was a voice you knew and that was worse. Much worse.
You dashed through the forest, a panic rising in your chest. Your sword was drawn. You feared what lay ahead. You knew not what you might face. Even so, you ran. At last, you caught sight of a figure kneeling on the hill. He was mumbling to himself and seemed to be greatly distraught. You stopped and sheathed your sword.
“Boromir?” You stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Boromir? Brother, what is the matter? Where is Frodo?”
Boromir said nothing. He didn’t look up.
“Where is Frodo?”
You had almost never seen Boromir so troubled. Your brother was strong and fearless. You knew something terrible must have happened.
“He’s gone,” Boromir said, trembling, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s gone.”
“Where to? What happened?” You looked into your brother’s eyes but he did not keep your gaze. Guilt and pain you saw.
“I . . .” he started. “I do not know. He disappeared.”
Your eyes widened. “He used the—it?!”
Boromir nodded and clasped your hands, pressing them to his forehead. “Forgive me! Forgive me!”
“For what? What has happened? You must ell me!”
“I tried to… no!” Boromir shook. “I tried to take it from him! I do not know why. A trance came over me, stronger than any will! I could not resist it! It was as if nothing in the world was of value except that thing. Frodo ran away. He was not hurt. But I tried to take it from him, Y/N!” And with that he wept. You were stunned. Even as you pondered these words Boromir’s face changed and he managed a smirk. “But why not? Why shouldn’t I have taken it? After all, we are doomed if the Ring is in the hands of that…rat.”
“Boromir!”
“What?” Boromir’s face was dark and fell to look upon as he stood over you. “Would you too take us all to our death? Would you march the One Ring straight to Sauron and have us all destroyed? The quest is hopeless! Yet you would counsel that we give the Ring back to the Evil One! No! I will find it! I will have it! I must have it! It is mine!”
“Boromir, no!” You grabbed at his cloak as he started away.
Boromir drew his sword, his face filled with rage and darkened passion. He lifted it high above you, gleaming in a red fire that reflected his face. Then it came down. You screamed.
_________________________________________________
“Boromir!” You sat up with a jolt, your hand over your side where the sword had pierced you . . . or where you thought it had.
The night was dark around you and the world was mostly silent except for the invisible winds whistling quietly over the rocks and lonely clumps of grasses nearby. There was no wound and no Boromir. You sighed, laying your head in your hands. It was all a dream, well, partially. You, Y/N, a daughter of Gondor, Boromir and Faramir’s sister, was one of the Fellowship of the Ring. You had insisted on coming with your brother. Though many laughed at your attempts to fight for greater things because you were a woman and “not a warrior,” you kept on. Mainly that was because you were tired of the dreary, hopeless waiting in Gondor that grew as the days went on, but also you wanted to keep your brother in check. He was dear to you, yet you knew he could be too proud sometimes, and you were one of the only ones who could remind him and keep him steady. And you were one of the only ones he would tell his mind openly to. Yet most of those in Gondor still doubted you.
“One does not need to be a master of the sword to change the world,” you had told them, “one only needs wisdom, courage, and endurance.” Even then, you were very skilled in the ways of swordsmanship, but you did not like to show it unless the need arose. Your brothers had trained you well. Strong and mighty though they were, they still treated you with love and respect and you loved them for it.
But now you were far away from your brothers, though it had pained you to leave them. Faramir had stayed behind in Gondor under his father’s wishes. And Boromir . . . you did not know where he was. Aragorn had sent you to find Boromir since you were his sister and that you did, but Frodo had been nowhere to be found. After Boromir told you what had happened, he was too distraught to go anywhere for a while. You had gone in search of Frodo, and you had found him just before he had left. He couldn’t convince you to stay, and you, Sam, and Frodo had left the company. Now it was your second night since the Fellowship was broken.
You sat back against the cool ledge of rock under which the three of you had taken refuge for the night. Rest seemed far away, for you at least. You looked over at the two hobbits who were sleeping nearby. Sam was unmoved, snoring lightly. His sword was still on his side in case of an emergency and he needed to protect his master. Frodo slept less easily it seemed. His face looked worried, as if he were in a troubling dream. That you did not doubt. Often on your journey since Gandalf had fallen, Frodo had been disturbed by unhappy dreams. It hurt your heart but there was nothing that could be done about it. Even now he mumbled Gandalf’s name, tossing and turning slightly. You watched them, your heart ever filling with love for the small creatures. You could easily see, as you had when you first saw them, how Gandalf so loved hobbits. They were small yet had such courage as many men lacked. In fact, you believed what they lacked in size, hobbits made up for in character. You were thankful to be a part of the journey with them and the others of the Fellowship and to have gotten this far.
As you looked, Frodo turned on his back and you could barely see the cold silver of the chain that he wore, the chain that held the fate of Middle-earth. You flinched when you saw it. So easy it would be to take it and rid the hobbits of the torment and horror that might lay ahead. A valiant deed it would be. Yet, as you thought about these things, something seemed wrong about it all. If you were to take it, trust would be broken. How long could you resist the ever-growing pull of the Ring? How long until you, like Boromir, were driven mad with the desire of it and harmed the very ones you claimed you were helping? Maybe it would have been better if it had just been Sam and Frodo left to take the Ring. Maybe you weren’t meant to be here at all. Maybe . . .
“Worrying about what-ifs is not going to change anything,” you whispered to yourself. “You mustn’t despair now. They need you. It would be foolish to leave them.”
But is it just as foolish to stay? How long can you hold out? How long?
You shook your head. It was as if another voice was whispering into your ear, low and menacing yet almost sweet to hear.
Spare them the pain. Spare them. Take the Ring and spare them of what lies ahead. You know it is the only way. Maybe Boromir was right. Is there any hope with things going the way they are now? Spare them.
“No!” you said to the darkness, as if someone stood before you. “I will not. Indeed I would spare them if I could but it is not my choice to make.”
Think of Gondor. Its power is failing. Think of the deeds you could do to save your people. What honor you would receive!
“I heard what Gandalf said. Only the Dark Lord can use its power and I cannot. The Ring-bearer was chosen and it was not me for a reason. Leave me, you foul voice. Leave me in peace.”
Your head was silent once again. You felt weary in your spirit yet as if you had won a victory, though it seemed small whatever it was. You did not doubt that the temptation would come again. How long could you hold out?
You sighed and laid back down, watching the hobbits rhythmic breaths. Frodo moaned in his sleep, clutching his elven cloak. Sam was motionless and seemed peaceful. Slowly, sleep took over you and you drifted away into dreamless darkness.
________________________________________________
“Miss Y/N,” it was Sam’s voice that pulled you into the morning. “Miss, the sun’s up. I think we best get going as soon as we can.”
You opened your eyes and sat up. The day was dull and soundless but for the Great River roaring not far away. Sam had made a small fire and three small fish were cooking in one of Sam’s pans. Frodo was silent, watching the fire. He seemed deep in thought.
“How did you manage to catch fish?” you asked.
“I happened to find a net in my pack,” Sam said. “I don’t know what from but it’s a blessing for sure. It’s a shame I won’t be able to use it much, considering where we’re going and all, but I thought we should have a good meal before all we have is lembas. It’s not too risky to make a fire, is it?”
“If it smokes,” you looked up at the dreary sky, “but it isn’t. It might be the last fire we will get in a long while, so enjoy it. We should reach those barren hills today.”
Sam nodded and served the fish as best he could manage with the meager spices he had. The three of you ate as slow as time allowed, but you needed to be off soon. When you finished, you packed up what belongings you had and continued your journey once more. You led the way with Frodo behind you and Sam bringing up the rear, not that you knew much about these lands, for it was far away from Minas Tirith and was largely unfamiliar.
The vast terrain before you between the Great River and the Dead Marshes was lifeless and unfriendly. There seemed to be nothing but the brown-gray rock in many forms of jagged hills. You cautiously picked your way between the sheltered clefts, sheer drops, and rugged boulders. For now the Ring was forgotten to you and your mind was only focused on picking the right path, and the safest one at that. Every now and then, you would reach a dead end, some high wall that none could scale or some drop that led to an end that you could not see. However, you did not give up hope and the three of you worked your way backwards and came upon another route that seemed to have appeared only then which had hidden itself from you before. Thus, slowly, you worked towards the Land of Shadow.
But even as the day went on a fog began to grow in the deep crevices of the hills and worked its way slowly upward until it covered everything. You could not see much farther in front of you and it was only thickening. It was as if someone was building up the mist to stop you from going forward, and maybe someone was. It didn’t dampen your spirits entirely, only making the way harder and more troublesome.
Even so, the three of you spoke softly of your homelands far away. You were very interested in life in the Shire and Sam and Frodo told you of what things were like there. They told of the land, their heritage, and happenings of their childhood and whatever they could recall had happened before they left. They spoke lovingly of their home and as you looked at their faces you could see their longing to return to its comforts. Frodo especially seemed saddened and when he spoke of his home, you could see in his eyes that he feared he would never return.
Then you all fell silent for a while, walking in the ever-thickening fog. The end of the day was coming near and the light was beginning to fail. For some reason or another, your heart felt heavier as the day faded. A light rain began.
“We should find somewhere to rest for the night,” you said, peering around you in search of some form of shelter. “I don’t think we shall be able to see much further.”
“I don’t think I can walk much further either,” Frodo said. He swayed a little where he stood. Sam put a hand on his arm to steady him.
“Come, this way.”
You led them to a shallow cave-like opening in the rock and made yourselves at home to the best of your ability. After eating a little lembas, you settled into silence and laid down. Frodo was asleep almost instantly and Sam followed soon after, but you couldn’t shake a rising feeling of dread that seemed distant and near at the same time. An hour or two passed, and you looked out into the fog, waiting for something or someone dreadful to appear. Then suddenly you heard what sounded like the beating of wings coming nearer. The dread was so strong you couldn’t think at first. Forcing yourself to move, you shook Sam and Frodo awake.
“Frodo, Sam, wake up,” you whispered as quietly as you could manage. Your hands were shaking.
The hobbits started awake and the three of you crouched against the rock as far back as it would allow.
“They’ve come,” Frodo whispered.
“It’s only one,” you managed to say.
“But that’s more than we can handle,” Sam said, shaking.
Then out from the darkness there came a cry so piercing and full of hatred and evil power that the three of you covered your ears and lay on the ground in terror. Now you could hear the Nazgûl on whatever evil creature it rode not far above. It shrieked again and Frodo cried out, clutching where his old wound had been. He slowly reached for the Ring on its chain but Sam stopped him. You saw It now, right in front of you and not far from your grasp. Then, in some dream, your hand reached for the Ring under some will that was not your own. You felt the chain cold and heavy in your fingers against the warmth of Frodo’s body. Sam was staring at you with wide eyes but made no move.
Take it. Take it. The voice from the night before was back, luring you. Take it and have it for yourself. Put it on and you can run, invisible and mighty. You can escape the death that awaits. You can escape. Take it now.
Your fingers were inches away from the Ring. All you had to do was take it. But the image of Boromir in your dream flashed through your mind and another of him lying in one of the boats of Lothlorien still and unmoving, floating away to be swallowed up by the sea and stars. Then in an instant something awoke inside you and you reeled back and the voice and terror and evil will passed. The Nazgûl was gone.
You sat back against the wall, breathing heavily and staring out into the distance. Frodo sat up now and looked at you. You covered your mouth with your hand as tears welled in your eyes.
“Forgive me,” you whispered. “Forgive me.”
You stood and, without another word, walked out into the fog. You didn’t go very far, so as to not get lost, but you went as far as you dared. You sat down on a small boulder, heedless of the cold, and let tears fall down your face. You wrapped your elven cloak around you and cried softly to yourself, drawing your knees to your chest. What was the point of all this? The struggle? The pain? Why were you even here in this desolate land? Then your mind went back to the day you had left Gondor with Boromir.
“I’m still not sure about all this,” Boromir said, saddling his horse.
“There are many things we do not yet know, brother,” you answered. “I think we will learn much more in the days to come. Who knows? Maybe one day tales will be sung about us, whatever we are about to do.”
Boromir shook his head with a smile. “Ah, sister. Still dreaming of valor and tales? You may have your chance to be in one yet. But whether or not we are, we must do what is right, honor or no.”
“So you have learned a thing or two from me.”
“Indeed. I have a feeling that more than the lives of our people depend on this.”
“Then let us not forget. Let us not fail. Let us fight to the end.”
You looked back up into the fog, resting your chin on your knees. You breathed the night air deeply. Though it wasn’t fresh or pleasant, you felt a little lighter somehow.
“Miss?”
You turned around wiping the tears from your eyes. The hazy figure of a hobbit stood behind you. “Sam! What are you doing?”
“I wanted to make sure you were alright,” Sam said. “It’s getting quite cold I think. Mr. Frodo’s already out. We should probably get the most sleep we can too.”
“I don’t know that I can,” you said, not looking at him.
Sam sighed and sat down next to you. “I . . . I know you think you . . . well, I know you feel bad for it.”
“For what?”
“What happened . . . with the Ring . . . when the Black Rider came by.”
You looked at Sam and then buried your face in your hands. You couldn’t stop the tears and you didn’t try.
“I’m so sorry!” you cried. “I don’t know what came over me. It was so . . . strong, whatever it was. My mind filled with thoughts of the Ring and some foreign desire made me want it! I do not want it, Sam! I do not! Yet ever since we left it’s tempted me. I understand now why Frodo told me not to come. He saw in me what I could not see in myself. I thought I could resist it, more so than Boromir, but I was wrong. I fear I may succumb to it and be taken by it and who knows what I will do then!” You could say no more and your words were buried in sobs.
You felt Sam’s hand on your arm. “Miss Y/N,” he said, “with all due respect, you seem to have missed something. I’ve noticed how it’s tempted you and made you torn in two. Mr. Frodo has too. But, Miss, you resisted it. When that Black Rider came by, you were drawn to it, sure, but you didn’t let it get a hold of you. You said no. When you did that—now don’t take me for a loon—but when you did that, I saw a light around you. It was as if you had finally overcome it’s call to you and you won, if you understand me. You don’t need to worry about it any more. And even if it does still draw you a little, you’ve got something stronger than it. I don’t know what, but it’s there. Mr. Boromir, he had strength, but he didn’t have all of what you do. It would be more than a shame if you left. I think we’ll be needing you down the road, so that’s why you’d better not leave.”
You looked at Sam in shock and admiration. “Do you really mean that?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do. I may be a bit of a ninnyhammer sometimes but I’m no liar.”
“Oh, Sam!” you hugged the hobbit tightly. “Thank you! Thank you. Bless you, dear hobbit! Gandalf was right, there is more to halflings than meets the eye. Come, let us rest now.”
“Just a minute,” Sam said. “I just want to say, too, that Mr. Frodo, he doesn’t hate you, Miss. He told me just now that when you came back he was going to say something similar to what I just said now, but my poor master can hardly keep his eyes open whenever we stop for the night. He’s fond of you and I am too. Mr. Frodo and I would trust you with our lives, and everything else besides.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” you said softly. “I have never really had friends so close as I have you and Frodo. Thank you for that.”
“Of course, Miss, it’s a pleasure.”
The two of you went back up to the cave where Frodo was at rest. You felt at peace now, at least enough to get through the night. You laid down and closed your eyes, humming a song that you had learned many years before. Such a song had never been heard in those parts in many many years, if ever at all. And over the dreary hills it floated, a sign of hope sailing the wind.
____________________________________
The next day came quietly, and your small group got an early start when the light was still new. The fog still lay thick around the land, but it was thinner than the day before. The misty whisps curled around the shapeless rock forms like ghostly white snakes. Although the day was just about as dreary as the last, you felt more hopeful. You had hardly spoken to Frodo and Sam at all, as there was nothing much to say. You had wanted to say something to Frodo but you couldn’t find the words. You kept glancing at him and opening your mouth to speak but no words would follow.
Just before you thought you couldn’t bear it any longer, the three of you stopped to rest. You sat on a small rock with withering moss clinging to it and looked out into the dissipating fog. You could barely see a glimpse of the Dead Marshes far away. You could smell them too. Nearer by, you could hear what sounded like a trickle of water.
“If my ears aren’t mistaken,” Sam said, breaking the silence, “I think there’s a stream nearby.”
“I believe you are correct, Sam,” you said, glancing around.
“I’ll refill our bottles,” Sam said, grabbing the three flasks you had. Not waiting, he started off with a quick look in Frodo’s direction.
An awkward silence ensued.
“Frodo,” you said at last, forcing the words out.
“Yes?”
“Please . . . please forgive me for what happened last night with the Ring. Sam already spoke with me about it, but I need to tell you myself that I am sorry, terribly sorry, for what happened. I do not think it will happen again but . . .” Suddenly, everything Sam had said the night before was forgotten to you and the tears ran down your face again. “Oh that it should be I that is your worst enemy, and whom you have most cause to fear! It would be better if I stayed here while the two of you went ahead! It would be better if I rotted alone in this desolate place than brought any harm or trouble to you!”
Frodo’s face was filled with sadness when you said this. He squeezed your hand, looking into your eyes with empathy. “No,” he said. “That is . . . nonsense, Y/N. It is a shame to me to hear such a word. I would not hear it of you, and I shall not hear it from you. May Eru judge me by my deserts, and punish me with more bitter suffering than even this hour, if by any act or will of mine anything shall ever come between us!”
“But it is not your act, Frodo,” you said, looking away. “It is mine. It is all my doing.”
“No. No it is not. It is not your fault that we are here. It is not your fault that the Ring came to me. It is not Bilbo’s fault that it came to him. I do not believe it is Gollum’s fault that it came to him either. When we were in the mines of Moria, Gandalf told me this: he said it is not for us to decide the times we see or what we face, but all we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. You are not succumbing to the Ring, Y/N. If any of us is, it is me. Last night you resisted and overcame the desire for it. I wish I had the strength to do the same. You have more to you than meets the eye, a hidden strength, I think. I trust you, Y/N, and I believe I always shall. Please don’t forget it.”
You said nothing. You couldn’t. You wrapped Frodo in a hug and cried. Frodo said nothing else and patiently returned the gesture, holding back tears himself.
“So there is hope for this journey after all,” you whispered. “We just might not see it yet.”
#lotr fellowship#lotr two towers#lotr fanfic#lotr x you#lotr x reader#lotr x y/n#frodo x reader#frodo x sam#sam x frodo#sam x reader#sam x you#angst#lord of the rings fanfiction#fanfic#my writing#request#the one ring#middle earth#the fellowship x reader#the fellowship of the ring#lord of the rings#i love hobbits#i love you frodo
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