Sons of the Steward

Thank you, Rangerlady, for your devotion to the hopeless--this story. ;)

*

The room was atmospheric. He had intentions for tonight, but how far he meant to go eluded him even now. He felt himself in a particularly dark mood and could use an elevation, particularly after having spoken with Boromir last night. Talking with his elder brother these days always seemed to leave him in some sort of mood. He sighed and stood up from the table, wandering to a cart oinksinks nearby. Minuial remained seated, taking a sip of her water. She had seemed very relaxed all night, as if she had been anticipating something.

Selecting a particular decanter of dark red wine, Faramir removed the glass cap and sniffed the liquid, then poured two drinks. “Have you spoken with my father?” he asked, taking them in hand and turning. “Care to sit by the fire with me?” He allowed himself a moment to look her over in her red dress. It set off her skin nicely, tempting him. He wondered if Elves customarily dressed this way for dinner, or if she had chosen that dress with a purpose.

Pushing back her chair, Minuial stood and brushed herself off, then smiled as she joined him on a low sitting couch near his bedroom fireplace. He handed her the wine and watched as she took her first drink, thenlowelowed up by one for himself. “I did speak to your father. He was in a foul temper, so it didn’t last long.” She took another drink and he could not help but watch.

Faramir grunted and sipped his wine, not wanting to push that particular conversation any further. “He is generally in a foul temper. Good luck in trying to find him otherwise, my dear.”

Minuial took another long drink and he smiled when she grinned. “I believe I shall need that luck, Lord Faramir.”

He made a face. “Oh, please. Do not resort to titles tonight, Minuial.” They shared a laugh, then he set his glass down.

The Elf watched him a moment, then said softly, “What did Boromir have to say?”

Raising an eyebrow, he considered reclaiming his drink. “What?”

“Last night?” she elaborated with a patient expression. “He seemed troubled.”

“Yes, yes. He…wanted to warn me of a few things,” he answered carefully, choosing his words with a certain discretion. Faramir sighed and shook his head. “My brother can be very boorish if he so chooses, but I would not concern yourself with him. He can be appeased.”

Minuial’s lips curved at that. “Appeased?” she repeated with a tone he found interesting. She finished off her wine. “And can you be appeased, Faramir?”

He coughed and hid his grin behind his hand as he stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “Now, dear Elf, what are you referring to?” Her eyes were glassy and she appeared pleasantly flushed, causing his own skin to feel a little warm.

Moving closer on the couch, she reached for his thigh and gave a squeeze that made him take a sharp breath. “What do you think I’m referring to?” she asked him, rubbing his thigh temptingly. “You are familiar with love?”

Reclaiming his drink, he shook his head and said into his cup, “Love, my lady?” Swallowing hard, he took her hand and smoothed his fingers along hers. “Is it not too soon for that?”

Her laugh was true and unguarded. “Truthfully spoken. What about lust, Captain?” Her hand trailed his arm, moving to his shoulder where she began to knead his tense muscle. “You are familiar with l I g I gather?”

“I am,” he replied, letting her explore his neck softly. “I think your drink has affected your judgment.” He gave her an appraising look.

Minuial’s eyes were very serious, very alluring and he found himself unable to look away at the moment. “Do you think that, Faramir? And what will you do with that knowledge?” He was about to speak when her hands met at the opening of his shirt, easing it open. Her hands were warm on his chest and he found himself entertaining the extent of his intentions.

Putting his hands on her sides, stroking softly, he breathed, “I think the wine has affected me as well, for I find myself wanting you more than I have wanted a woman in years. This is not wise.”

Her mouth rested against his for a long moment, her tongue darting along his lips in a tantalizing way that brought him to fall. He could not deny what he wanted. Wrapping his arms around her midsection, he drew her close to him and drew one side of her skirt up, finding the hot flesh of her thigh beneath as she moved to straddle him. Her lashes fluttered as he began to caress up into the back of her undergarments.

Minuial rested her forehead against his, working at the ties of his tunic until it was open, then pushing it down his arms. He was quick to allow her to disrobe his upper body, even as he began to untie the strings on either side of her underwear. As soon as the fabric was loose he pulled it from between her legs and tossed the lacy garment to the floor. “What do Elves feel like?” he mused, drawing his palm across her hip and belly. She bit her bottom lip as he started stroking her pelvis. “Are they hot and wet when aroused?”

She gave a dirty little laugh, leaning against his ear and nipping lightly. “Why not touch me and find out?” Her voice rang in challenge.

His eyes afire, he traced downwards, sinking his fingers into her curls. It had a pleasing effect on her, winning him a soft sound of delight as he stroked the full flesh. Driven, he took it a step further and went for the beginnings of her wetness. Pressing two fingers into the heat of her flesh, he began a slow, rhythmic rub, searching and seeking. She whimpered when he smoothed down, then sought the opening he meant to enter in short order. Watching those hazel eyes, he pressed his finger upwards inside her and noticed her shivering increase. Those thighs of hers tightened along his arm and it filled him with lust. She was tight and probably seldom taken, if at all. Too tempting for him to consider stopping now, no matter how unwise this situation was.

Bringing his fingers out of her wetness, he went for the strings to his trousers and pulled his striving hardness free, knowing he could not wait any longer. Not asking, not giving her a chance to change her mind, Faramir gripped her by the hips and jerked her to his pelvis, then down, entering her in a hard, quick thrust. The effect was pleasant; she fell against him and squeezed his shoulder. “You like that, Elf?” he asked, forcing her back and looking into her eyes. He shoved her away, then yanked her back, winning a wide-eyed gasp. “The love of a mortal man is quick and deep.”

Not giving her a chance to steady herself, he put both hands against her hips and moved her quickly, roughly, paying little mind to her whimpers of pleasure. The heat of taking her this way drew him far too deep into this act and he wanted to enjoy her thoroughly. “Faramir,” she whispered and he looked into her eyes, seeing sparks of pleasure there. She bit her bottom lip as he jerked his hips upwards into her quivering body.

Putting her hands on his shoulders, she began moving as well, her legs falling to either side of his, working towards his thrusts to increase their pleasure. He groaned as she rocked into him, meeting his oncoming plunge with a force all her own. Caressing one hand down her backside, he cupped the hot flesh and steadied her to his pace, not making any allowances for her to slow up. The room seemed very silent, charged with animal lust as their pantings and groanings reflected back at them.

Reaching up, Faramir let her move for a moment as he undid the ties at the front of her dress. He parted the soft fabric and beheld what it concealed with great appreciation. Snaking an arm around her, he pulled her forward and pressed his lips against her belly, moving upwards until he came to her breasts. Moving his hand up her back, he leaned forward and put his mouth on her supple flesh, kissing the side to leave his mark. He felt her thumbs caressing along his shoulders in response.

Satisfied, he pulled back, then dove in again to feast on her upraised peak. He flicked his tongue against the sensitive skin and she slowed her rocking to enjoy his tender suck. Her back arched, pressing her against him and he took full advantage, nipping at her and winning a gasp of surprise. Not to leave the other side in want, Faramir cupped his hand along her other breast and used his thumb to smooth along her. “You like to be pet,” he observed, increasing his insistent touch.

Pulling back, he looked up into her eyes and gripped her hip, moving her quicker, rougher. She was coming close and he worked fervently to see her needs met, delving up into her without reserve. She was thrown off balance by his upward thrusts, clutching desperately to his shirt to keep herself up. Smiling at that, finding he enjoyed it, he dropped his hands to the couch and shoved harder, getting a whimpered response each time.

When she hit her peak she moaned out, falling against him and he embraced her, still moving for his own pleasure. She shivered like a leaf against him and her warm body was enough to drive him to the end rapidly. Thrusting twice, Faramir groaned out amptimptied into her, closing his eyes. The moments ticked by slowly as each gathered their wits again. Some time later he opened his eyes and pushed her back from his shoulders. Her eyes were hazy and tired. “Minuial?”

“Hmm?” she hummed, trying and failing to focus.

He frowned, then eased her off of his lap to the couch. Fixing his own clothes, Faramir gripped the front of her dress and closed it. “You cannot stay here, love. Too many people would talk.”

“Talk?” she repeated, knitting her brow. “I don’t…I don’t feel so well.”

Faramir bent down and urged her into his arms, walking her to the door. “I am sorry, Lady Elf, but you cannot stay. Get to your rooms quickly and sleep it off.” He struggled to open the door, then aided her into the hall. Looking down, he pushed her hair from her face and said, “Too much wine?” He nodded, waiting for her to agree.

Minuial nodded in return, her expression a little sleepy. “That must be it. Goodnight, Faramir.”

He looked around, then placed a kiss on her lips, entering into her mouth with a quick, rough caress. “Goodnight, love. Try not to wake your Elf friend when you enter your rooms. Else we’ll both be in trouble.”

She nodded again and watched him retreat. As soon as his door shut, Minuial turned from his rooms and continued down the hallway, feeling very weary and fuzzy in her thinking. It must have been the drink. Though she had never had trouble like this before. Frowning, she moved slowly along, somehow making it downstairs on her level. Each step became more difficult until finally she felt herself fall forward. Her head spun.

And suddenly arms surrounded her. A soft but masculine voice breathed, “My lady?”

Opening her eyes, she registered the face of Aragorn as he held her upright. He had a concerned expression upon his face. “So tired,” she whispered, wanting nothing more than to be in her bed. “It’s so hot.”

She heard him sigh as she closed her eyes. “I will help you, Lady Minuial,” he said gently and again her head spun as the sensation of being lifted washed over her.

Minuial didn’t even realize when they had come to her quarters.

*

She could hear him breathing, she imagined. Curling into her pillow, Minuial admitted to herself that really she couldn’t, but she knew when Haldir was watching her. This particular morning she was not in the mood for it, either. And so she remained silent, hoping he would go away. Of course he would not have it. After a few minutes he said, “You are awake. I can tell.”

“So what?” she groaned into her pillow. She would have hurled it at him had she not been under the effects of a terrible headache.

Haldir sighed and got up from his chair, padding to the bed. He sat down within her view and she opened her eyes, seeing he was still wearing his silvery nightclothes. He looked at her critically, then spoke. “You’ve been drinking,” he accused in a reproving tone. “A lot by the looks of it. Did he do this to you? Get you drunk?”

Thinking back on the night before was uncomfortable, for she could not fully remember it all and that startled her. Knitting her brow, she shook her head gently. “No, I don’t think so. The strange thing is, I did not drink but one glass of wine. I would never fall so hard to the effects of liquor after one glass.” His expression was oddly sorrowful and that made her feel both angry and sad at the same time. “He drank as well.”

The Marchwarden nodded slowly, reaching out and stroking her cheek. “I will kill him for this.”

Minuial sat up sharply—tried to—and grasped her head in response to the pain. When she had recovered from the dizzy spell that had overtaken her senses, she looked at him seriously. “I wanted it, Haldir. I remember that.”

“You wanted it because you were drunk!” he shot back with a sudden glare.

Wincing at his elevated tone, she scooted away from him, intent on locking herself in the washroom for at least an hour. Haldir got up off the bed with her and stormed after her, following and forcing his way through the door. “What do you think you are doing!?” she demanded when he won past her.

Haldir gripped her arm, his eyes desperate. “I want you to leave Minas Tirith. Leave today and let me attend to Lord Celeborn’s orders. You do not deserve this.”

“And you do?” she hissed, throwing back his arms. She groaned in pain, then stumbled towards the tub that had been filled this morning while she slept. The coals had begun to burn away, but the water was still warm. Straightening herself, she looked at her reflection in a nearby mirror, noticing the gown that clung to her form. She could not even recall putting it on. There were a few vague memories of leaving Faramir, of being helped by Aragorn, him laying her down and then the door shutting, but she could not remember taking her clothes off or dressing in this, or even covering herself with the blankets. She could barely even recall having sex with Faramir, but the little flashes she got now and then told no lie.

Her companion noticed her disquiet and came to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. Turning her, he touched her hair softly. “He dishonored you. He should die.”

Minuial sighed and pulled away from him again, brushing her hair behind her ears. “I initiated the relations, Haldir. He only responded to what I started.”

“He should have stopped you,” Haldir insisted angrily.

She shook her head and sat on the edge of the tub, dipping her fingers into it. “I would have slept with him, thinking clearly or not. He may have been just as drunk as I, for he drank of the same wine. I just…I’m not sure what happened. One glass should not have done this to me.”

Sitting down with her, he looked her over with an expression he rarely wore with her, but when he did she felt tense inside. “So what is it you would have me do if not defend your honor?”

She wasn’t sure, to be honest, but she could not have him kill Faramir just yet if indeed he had coerced her into this act. “Wait and see. Let me figure out exactly what happened last night. Our missions are more important than this.”

“Are they?” Haldir asked, gazing down at the water as she poured a few oils in. “Or are we fooling ourselves in thinking we can succeed? Who is to say Aragorn would make a better leader?”

Minuial stood up, moving towards the bathroom door. Taking the hint, Haldir stood, but he did not have his usual smirk. As he exited, she watched after him and said, “Who is to say we should stop molding our world? We remained secluded and look what that has bought us. Denethor will wait and let the Ring corrupt him until he is no longer satisfied with Gondor, but seeks also the remainder of this world. He will deliver it to Sauron and we will be slaves.”

“Perhaps,” he conceded, then shook his head. “I will see to breakfast. Take your time.”

Nodding, she returned to her solitude, closing and locking the door behind her. She was bothered by the events of last night, more than she would say to Haldir. Disrobing and sinking into the tub, she fought for a moment, trying to remember the full details of the night, but it just would not come to her. One thing she knew, one glass of wine would not have done that to her. That left some rather uncomfortable possibilities. Had Faramir used herbs on her? She could remember feeling flushed from the very beginning of their meal, perhaps even a little beforehand. She had been alone in her rooms before that, however, preparing. There was no way she could have been drugged at that point.

It was possible he had put it in the food. She did not like to think that, though. Dinner had been genuinely enjoyable and she had not gotten the feeling he wanted to take advantage of her. He would not have had to if he had employed a little flirtation, which he did. There had been no hint of such vile intentions. Perhaps that was what he had meant for. To appear blameless. Cursing, she leaned back and glared at a vine plant pouring down a column at the end of the tub. She had lost control of the situation. Nothing felt right.

*

Boromir glared as his brother sauntered to the breakfast table. They had eaten dinner last night and probably more. The elder sighed in defeat, leaning back in his chair and stretching. When was his brother ever going to grow up? As expected, Faramir came to sit in front of his older brother. Kicking his feet up on the chair beside Boromir, the younger reached for the pitcher of ale and a mug. His expression was slightly delicate. Boromir frowned. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

The other glared a moment, then shook his head. “Getting critical on me this early, Boromir? I’m disappointed.”

“Did you fuck the Elf?” Boromir asked simply, cutting to the chase.

His brother made a sarcastic face. “Which one?” he asked smartly. Sighing when his elder brother glared, Faramir nodded, taking a drink. “Alright, brother. Yes, I did fuck her.”

The older ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head depreciatively. Still, what was done was done and nothing would change that. He eyed Faramir. “I suppose she got all doe-eyed and started talking of love?”

His little brother gave him a very hard look at that. Not many things would win his ire, but that one question would and Boromir knew it. “As a matter of fact, she did not. This one’s in it for lust and lust alone.”

“Lust?” Boromir repeated, raising his eyebrow. “Well, I was not aware Elves thought in those terms.

Faramir wore a telling grin. He leaned forward on the table. “This one does. She was quite insistent. I get the feeling if I started speaking of love she would laugh at me, to be ho.”
.”

Pouring himself a drink, Boromir laughed at that. “An Elf with sense, it seems. Now that’s a novelty.” He took a roll from a basket nearby, setting it on his plate. “I trust we can avoid a repeat of what happened last time a lady Elf roamed our city.” He noticed Faramir’s flinch.

“I see no need that this repeat the past,” his brother replieinisinishing off his drink and pouring more. “It is a different situation. Father need never know of our little tryst. She certainly isn’t going to go telling him.”

“Hmm,” Boromir hummed, welcoming the biting taste of the ale he had poured. It was never too early for a drink, he had always told his younger brother. Somehow it annoyed him to see his brother embrace that trait so readily, however. He sighed, feeling more at ease, but not completely. “If he does find out…”

Faramir looked at him flatly. “Father is not going to find out, Boromir. Stop this tired conversation before I fall asleep on the table. It is a different situation, as I said.”

Shrugging, the elder lifted his roll and took a bite. “Fair enough.”

*

Sometime in the night Sauron awakened and decided he had had enough, so he sent his army of Hobbit Elite's to finish off the world of man. Misfortunately both Boromir and Faramir met a foul end at the hands of Frodo Baggins, who then seduced Lady Minuial and put his child in her, thereby providing Sauron with a host body. The End.

;)