What Blooms in Ithilien

Title: What Blooms in Ithilien 7/?
Author: Claudia
Pairing: Frodo/Faramir
Rating: PG13 up to NC-17 in later chapters
Summary: An ill Frodo is captured by Faramir. Love blooms.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no money from them.

Story notes: There is a conversation that follows the real conversation in the book--including a quote from Tolkien's "Seek for the Sword that was Broken" poem--with some similar quotes. However, I have taken many liberties.

What Blooms in Ithilien 7


Frodo was first aware that he lay on something unyielding that rose and fell in slow rhythm. Frodo opened his eyes. Sunlight streamed through the crack in the curtain giving the walls of the cave a golden hue. Frodo's limbs felt weak and shaky, but the horrible agony in his stomach had gone. He realized with a start that he was lying atop Faramir's warm chest, and that he had slept to the rhythm of the man's breaths. Muscular arms encircled Frodo's slight frame. Frodo shifted and turned to look at Faramir's face. Faramir appeared to be asleep with a content smile on his face. Frodo let his hand lightly brush the silky hair on Faramir's chest.

Faramir's gray eyes opened. When he saw Frodo directly above him, his mouth curved in a drowsy smile. He covered Frodo's small hand with his. Frodo hid an amused smile. It was almost as if they were new lovers waking up after a wild night. He only wished that was what they had been doing throughout the night.

"How do you feel?" Faramir asked. "You have color in your cheeks."

"Much better," Frodo said. "Even a little hungry, if I may be so bold."

"You may," Faramir said. "I can send for a breakfast for us."

He hesitated, as if reluctant to release the hobbit. Frodo gave Faramir a shy smile. Faramir reached up to Frodo's face and pushed a stray curl from his forehead. His fingers lingered, and his eyes closed, as if it pained him to draw his fingers away. Frodo edged closerFaraFaramir's mouth. Faramir did not pull back. Faramir opened his eyes with a sharp intake of breath. Frodo clasped his hands around the back of Faramir's neck and leaned into Faramir's mouth.

They were locked in a desperate kiss. Faramir's tongue thrust into Frodo's mouth. Frodo gasped for breath, though he did not want Faramir to release him.

Faramir pushed back. He gripped Frodo by the shoulders and rolled him on his back on the bed. He looked at Frodo's flushed, bewildered face, and he covered his mouth in shame.

"I am sorry, Frodo!" he cried, jumping off the bed. "I should be deeply shamed for what I have done. Please don't be frightened. It won't happen again."

Frodo stared at him, his bruised lips parted in surprise. Then he began to laugh. He had not had a good, genuine laugh in so long, and it relaxed the muscles in his sore stomach. Faramir paused, his cheeks flaming. Frodo felt sorry to be the cause of Faramir's raw discomfort at that moment, but he couldn't help it. Faramir looked so distressed--and over a kiss that Frodo had initiated.

"Oh, no, Faramir," Frodo finally gasped. "Please don't say it won't happen again."

Faramir closed his eyes in relief and sagged against the wall. "You...you liked it?"

"Yes."

Frodo kept his eyes on Faramir e fie fidgeted with the tea kettle. Frodo watched his flustered movements with great amusement, and for a moment he pictured him as he would have looked as a child--adorable and vulnerable, more sensitive than most. How Boromir must have taunted him for always wearing his emotions on his sleeve!

"I will get you some ginger tea," Faramir said. "I'lI'll bring us some breakfast cakes. It's good after a bout with the stomach as you experienced."

"Ginger tea," Frodo said, his mirth replaced with a wistful smile. "Bilbo used to make it for me when I was unwell."

"Were you often unwell as a child?" Faramir asked. He set a kettle on the fire. He was obviously eager to start any conversation other than about what had just happened between them. Frodo tried to hide the amused smile from his face.

Frodo nodded. "When Bilbo first took me in--my parents died when I was twelve--I was sick all the time. I got pneumonia, mushroom poisoning, and measles all in one year. Poor Uncle Bilbo hadn't had children of his own and suddenly here was this youth who was ill all the time...But he was wonderful--"

Frodo broke off. Surely Faramir, a great captain of men who had seen much suffering in his life, had no urge to listen to a hobbit prattle about his childhood illnesses.

Faramir settled on the edge of his bed watching him with a smile. He did not seem bored. When the kettle boiled, Faramir handed Frodo the steaming mug. The spicy fragrance of ginger filled the room.

"Careful, don't burn your hand," Faramir said, putting his large hand over Frodo's. Frodo looked up and their eyes met. Frodo felt an electric tingle. Faramir pulled his hand away, reddening again. Frodo sipped the tea. He longed to rid Faramir of his shyness. "I will go now and bring back some cakes."

When he returned, Frodo had changed out of the clothes he had been ill in. He felt much better with the clean cloth against his skin. He had curled up in a huge cushioned chair in the corner of the curtained area.

"Frodo," Faramir said, setting the tray of cakes on the table in front of him. "I arranged for Samwise to stay in his tented partition for now. He's not happy, but he agreed once I convinced him that you were much better and that he'd see you later in the day. I arranged for breakfast to be brought to him. I need to talk to you in private--about why you are here in Ithilien and what you know about my brother."

Faramir's eyes had turned sober. Frodo suddenly had the sickening idea that Faramir had not been shy. He had merely been reluctant to become romantically involved with Frodo when he was not certain he could trust him. Frodo shut his eyes. His stomach turned again, from nerves this time, and he wondered if he would be able to swallow even one of the small cakes. He felt he could trust Faramir, but when it came down to it, he was terrified about the burden the council had put on him. He alone was responsible for fulfilling the quest. If he trusted Faramir because he felt an attraction for him, and Faramir turned out to be false, then the responsibility lay fully on Frodo.

"Take your time," Faramir said softly. "I know you're not completely well."

"What do you know of why your brother traveled to Rivendell?" Frodo finally murmured. He tried to nibble on the end of a small cake. There was a slight cinnamon flavor that Frodo would have found very pleasant under different circumstances.

"What do I know of it?" Faramir asked. "I know about the dreams that we both had."

Faramir described the dreams which echoed with poetry.

"Seek for the sword that was broken, in Imladris it dwells," Frodo murmured.

"Yes," Faramir said. A look of pleasant relief swept over his face. Frodo could understand from his expression that he had not wanted to interrogate this halfling that he had grown fond of. He had been afraid of what he might find out. "It is a token of your honesty that you know these words. And the Halfling forth shall stand. I take it you are the Halfling that is referred to?"

"Yes," Frodo said.

"But what of Isildur's Bane? If one reads the words of the poem correctly, it was to have awakened at your coming? Do you have this thing?"

Frodo's heart grew cold. Faramir started at the fierce expression in his eyes. "Or shall we not speak of such matters? We can turn instead to the matter that concerns us directly. You came out of Imladris with my brother. I am assuming that you were both on a mission dictated by the House of Elrond. Why would they send two halflings into this cruel land? To what purpose?"

"The council commanded secrecy," Frodo said. His heart was thudding so hard that he could barely breathe. He wished that he could let go and trust this man. It would be so pleasant to put the burden on a man who was familiar with the ways of the Enemy, who had lived under the shadow for so long. "Just know that it is an errand of great urgency against the shadow in the East."

"And what of my brother? This is what burns on my heart the most. You are one of the last to have seen him alive."

"It is difficult to speak of this," Frodo said. He shuddered, remembering Boromir's burning eyes as he assaulted him.

Faramir's gray eyes hardened. He was in military mode now. Frodo could expect no mercy. His heart sank.

"You did not part in friendship?" Faramir asked. He paced back and forth, hands clasped behind his back.

Frodo was silent. He could not imagine how best to describe the distrustful relationship he had had with Faramir's brother. In doing so, he realized that he would probably lose whatever respect and tenderness Faramir had felt for him. Though there seemed no sign of that tenderness right now. Frodo got the frightening impression that if Faramir had discovered that Frodo had somehow had something to do with Boromir's death that he would reach over and break his neck right then. Frodo shivered. He let fall his cake. He had no appetite now.

"He...," Frodo swallowed. "He...From the beginning he did not like the council's decision regarding Isildur's Bane. He would have taken it to your city and used it to fight the Enemy."

"Yes," Faramir said thoughtfully. His eyes softened somewhat. "That sounds much like him."

"He was a valiant member of the fellowship, Faramir. He fought hard against the enemies we faced. Several times he saved my life and I will always be grateful to him."

Frod han hands trembled as he held his cup of tea. Faramir absentmindedly poured him more and set the kettle back on the fire.

"So where did it go wrong for him?"

"In Lorien, I believe. That was when he fully realized that I was in the way of what he wanted."

Frodo's throat filled. The betrayal still hurt. That the Ring had been able to turn the noble, friendly man into a vicious attacker. Tears spilled from his eyes. He wiped them away, ashamed by his lack of control next to the rigid military captain.

"Frodo, take your time," Faramir said softly, kneeling beside him. Frodo was relieved to see Faramir's eyes had fully softened again. He took a few shuddering breaths.

"It's just that...He attacked me, Faramir. This...Isildur's Bane wrought such evil influence that it turned a good and noble man into someone you would not have recognized. But still," Frodo said, bravely grasping Faramir's hand. This time he did not pull away. "Even as he fell to it, I think there was still much good in. He. He could have come upon me in stealth and killed me with one stiff stab. Or broken my neck with his bare hands. He did not. He tried to reason with me first. Then...even when he was in the heat of his attack on me, he did not do violence to me. He did not strike me. His only aim was to get the Ring--"

Frodo's heart lurched, and he looked up with a terrified gasp. He had spoken before he realized what had happened. He broke out into wild trembling and shrank back against the chair.

"The Ring!" Faramir slowly rose to his feet. He stared down at Frodo with a strange smile. "The Ring. So much falls into place."

TBC