Minas Tirith - Legacy of the Ring Bearer
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
20
Views:
4,336
Reviews:
38
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
20
Views:
4,336
Reviews:
38
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Minas Tirith - Legacy of the Ring Bearer
Fic Name : Minas Tirith - Legacy of the Ring Bearer.
Chapter Name : Loss of Hope.
Pairing : Faramir/Boromir, Faramir/Frodo, Faramir/Aragorn, Aragorn/Frodo,
Rating : NC17
Beta : The wonderful and stouthearted Hel! On suggestion from another friend, I changed the name of Faramir's friend to something more MiddleEarthish.
Timeline : During the War of the Ring, in the final days and the year afterwards.
Synopsis : Faramir learns from Gandalf that he is pregnant with Frodo's chthouthough love does not exist between them, or so the Prince of Gondor believes.
Special Note : Eowyn will figure prominantly in this tale as she is someone that Faramir will lean upon, but this is a slash story. There will be no sex between Faramir and Eowyn. Sex will all be slash. Sorry, no smooches between men and women in slash stories. Obviously its a slash story anyway if Faramir is pregnant.
Disclaimer : I don't claim to own anything or make any money. Suing me will not do any good, you'd get artearter at the most. Tolkien owns all the pretty men and hobbits.
ARCHIVE : Yes, but please let me know.
CHAPTER ONE “Minas Tirith -- Legacy of the Ring Bearer”
"LOSS OF HOPE"
Since he was a child, getting wounds or even scraping a knee had always been a big deal in Minas Tirith. It had taken his brother’s stubborn will to get permission for him to face any type of battle at all. Together they had learned how to deal with it, but Boromir was gone now. Nevertheless, the young man was well liked among the men he led and they took care of their own. So, when he took a moment to lean against a wall in Osgiliath mostly to catch his breath and began to unwrap the secure bandage around his forearm a strong hand stayed his, coming from nowhere. It was Gaellyn, his first lieutenant and oldest friend. Gaellyn was a tall dark blonde-haired man in his early forties who had taken the young Prince of Gondor under his wing since Faramir first began to swing a sword and fire his bow. “Don’t.” he said sharply, “Leave it bound tight. Here…give me your arm. Captain, when is the last time you slept?” he looked at the pale worn face of his friend carefully.
Faramir shuddered as Gaellyn began to retie the bandage, tightening it severely so as to stop the blood flow. He sucked in his breath to clear his mind of the pain and focused upon the elder man. “It doesn’t matter.” The young man shrugged vaguely, his eyes despairing as he looked over the ruins they now hid in. He remembered clearly a time when his brother would never have let this happen. He had failed Boromir, Osgiliath was overrun.
“We will get to Minas Tirith safely, and the medicine is there…and then you -will- rest.”
“I told you, Gaellyn. It matters not.” In truth, he had not slept since he learned his brother was dead. He never would truly sleep l hel he saw Boromir’s body, or someone could confirm it. Even then, sleep would not come easy. He knew the orcs were coming hard and fast, and more were on the way. They had to make one last stand, one last…attempt before they retreated to defend the city.
“Captain Faramir, just sit a moment at least. See, the battle is still for now.” Gaellyn entreated him. “Here, drink some of this.” It was harsh liquor in the small flagon, but it would at least be something in the young man’s stomach.
Faramir accepted it, taking several gulps before coughing and gasping. Strangely, he smiled. The pain had dulled somewhat and he was feeling slightly lightheaded. “We can head them off as they get off at the piers. Use the archers, what we have left.”
It really didn’t matter when the last time was that he had slept for no one in his company had done so either, not since Ithilien, not since the armies started passing through their lands. Gondor was effectively surrounded with their southern armies paralyzed in the south as they fought the marauding pirates Minas Tirith was left wide open to attack.
He closed his eyes, trying to drown out the sounds of dying and wounded. People he knew, had grown up with, fought with and even trained with. The young man’s thoughts drifted to a quieter time, trying to drown out the screams and the crumbling walls around him, of large blue eyes and a thick mop of dark curly hair. He took a few deep breaths, at least Frodo had got away, for the moment. Perhaps the tide of battle would turn if they could hold out a few more days.
Gaellyn laid a hand on his shoulder and massaged it gently. Even though they had been friends for many years, they had never been close. No one ever got close to Faramir, not until recently. They may have wanted to, they may have tried, but the young man would not let them. He leant into the blonde’s touch, wishing the world away, wishing -everything- away. How could he possibly return to Minas Tirith now? His father would have his head.
Osgiliath was lost, no matter what they tried. There were too many orcs coming from Mordor, and yet more pouring through every day. He’d tried every tactic he could, but his father had not given him enough men, nor had he given him a task that was possible. Defending the city without Gondor’s armies was nearly impossible, and only Boromir had ever been able to accomh ith it.
He should not have thought of Frodo just then, for since the hobbits had been sent away he had tried not to think at all, for his life was forfeit anyway. He’d given up the ring of power. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, not quite realizing in the slightest how ill he looked. Gaellyn frowned, sensing the change in Faramir‘s breathing. “Captain Faramir…”
BEGIN FLASHBACK --
Sweet blue eyes, gazing at him rapturously, pushing into him with more force than he could have possibly imagined. It had been nothing like the other times with men, and that one time with his brother…Faramir grasped Frodo’s shoulders, shuddering hard as the hobbit’s seed filled him.
“You’re beautiful Faramir.” Frodo whispered, kissing his neck and settling upon his stomach as he withdrew. “Do you know that? So beautiful. I love your eyes, everything…” The hobbit’s next words were cut off as he was captured in a kiss and the Gondorian captain curled his aarouaround the Ringbearer gently, holding him close.
Beautiful, he supposed, that’s what they had all told him. Even Boromir. He’d heard it so often. What good did that get you? He sighed inwardly. Their time together was slowly coming to a close. It was not real love, it was lust, pure and simple. The hobbit had needed release badly, and Faramir had been there. In fact, he could have sworn he’d heard Frodo call out another name when the hobbit had climaxed. Perhaps it had been his imagination. It had sounded like *Strider*.
“Thank you.” Frodo had whispered sweetly, kissing the young man’s jaw. Faramir had closed his eyes and not spoken further, simply murmuring in appreciation. He had long since been taught not to voice his own thoughts. It never got him anywhere in Gondor. No matter how many times one of his father’s soldiers had used his body. It had long been secretly whispered that Faramir was an easy target whenever Boromir was not around, and never had he complained about the treatment, at least they did not hurt him. They only sought to humiliate hior eor everyone knew what would happen should they really cause him pain. He -was- weak, like his father often said. Thankfully, it was often over very quickly, and they would let him go on his way. In fact, he almost lookedwardward to those occasions, at least someone was paying attention to him, at least someone wanted him.
When he had refused to let them go at first, Frodo had been very angry. After the Nazgul had left, Faramir had finally relented and decided to let them go. Frodo had begged Faramir to come with them, but the young man shook his head. He had made his decision. It had only been one moment in time for them both, and Frodo had to have understood that. Nothing would come of it. Why then could he not get those eyes out of his head? Faramir had given up on life when Boromir died, for as long as Boromir lived, there was still hope for happiness. There was still hope that one day he might be loved for who he was and not what he was, a beautiful Prince, an easy target, a momenttimetime. Now, all he could do was take as many orcs down with him as he possibly could.
---END FLASHBACK
Gaellyn frowned when the captain swayed and looked like he was going to try and straighten. He might have, but just then Faramir stumbled, collapsing forward. The Gondorian fighter cursed under his breath for the fighting had just begun anew. He dragged Faramir back to the wall and propped him up, holding him gently. “Captain…captain..” he smacked his cheeks a couple of times, attempting to revive him. Warm…the fighter frowned, and removed his glove quickly to feel the young man’s cheeks. Blistering warm. Faramir was burning up. The captain had been sick all this time, and he hadn’t said a thing. “Joseras, water.” he snapped at a youth who had just been running by, his shield held up to deflect an arrow.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. The Captain is wounded, he should not even be here.” Gaellyn cursed under his breath, takihe she second gourd from the other. “Stubborn fool. He should have gone immediately to Minas Tirith when his father summoned him. Denethor would not let his laws claim the life of his only living son.” He dabbed a half-soiled cloth with the water and rubbed it against Faramir’s face, dropping some down his forehead so it trickled into his eyes. He wasn’t out for very long,
He started, blinking rapidly as he looked between one to the other. “What happened? Was I hit?” Faramir stumbled over the words despite his attempt to appear alert.
“No, Captain. You fainted.” Gaellyn said matter of factly. Faramir stared at him, about to dispute the comment when from above a stone came sailing at them. They had no time to react otherwise as Gaellyn threw Faramir out of the way.
The battle had started again.
The young Prince of Gondor struggled to his feet, and despite the protesting look he got from his friend drew his sword to continue fighting for Osgiliath and for Gondor. What else could he do?
**TO BE CONTINUED**
Chapter Name : Loss of Hope.
Pairing : Faramir/Boromir, Faramir/Frodo, Faramir/Aragorn, Aragorn/Frodo,
Rating : NC17
Beta : The wonderful and stouthearted Hel! On suggestion from another friend, I changed the name of Faramir's friend to something more MiddleEarthish.
Timeline : During the War of the Ring, in the final days and the year afterwards.
Synopsis : Faramir learns from Gandalf that he is pregnant with Frodo's chthouthough love does not exist between them, or so the Prince of Gondor believes.
Special Note : Eowyn will figure prominantly in this tale as she is someone that Faramir will lean upon, but this is a slash story. There will be no sex between Faramir and Eowyn. Sex will all be slash. Sorry, no smooches between men and women in slash stories. Obviously its a slash story anyway if Faramir is pregnant.
Disclaimer : I don't claim to own anything or make any money. Suing me will not do any good, you'd get artearter at the most. Tolkien owns all the pretty men and hobbits.
ARCHIVE : Yes, but please let me know.
CHAPTER ONE “Minas Tirith -- Legacy of the Ring Bearer”
"LOSS OF HOPE"
Since he was a child, getting wounds or even scraping a knee had always been a big deal in Minas Tirith. It had taken his brother’s stubborn will to get permission for him to face any type of battle at all. Together they had learned how to deal with it, but Boromir was gone now. Nevertheless, the young man was well liked among the men he led and they took care of their own. So, when he took a moment to lean against a wall in Osgiliath mostly to catch his breath and began to unwrap the secure bandage around his forearm a strong hand stayed his, coming from nowhere. It was Gaellyn, his first lieutenant and oldest friend. Gaellyn was a tall dark blonde-haired man in his early forties who had taken the young Prince of Gondor under his wing since Faramir first began to swing a sword and fire his bow. “Don’t.” he said sharply, “Leave it bound tight. Here…give me your arm. Captain, when is the last time you slept?” he looked at the pale worn face of his friend carefully.
Faramir shuddered as Gaellyn began to retie the bandage, tightening it severely so as to stop the blood flow. He sucked in his breath to clear his mind of the pain and focused upon the elder man. “It doesn’t matter.” The young man shrugged vaguely, his eyes despairing as he looked over the ruins they now hid in. He remembered clearly a time when his brother would never have let this happen. He had failed Boromir, Osgiliath was overrun.
“We will get to Minas Tirith safely, and the medicine is there…and then you -will- rest.”
“I told you, Gaellyn. It matters not.” In truth, he had not slept since he learned his brother was dead. He never would truly sleep l hel he saw Boromir’s body, or someone could confirm it. Even then, sleep would not come easy. He knew the orcs were coming hard and fast, and more were on the way. They had to make one last stand, one last…attempt before they retreated to defend the city.
“Captain Faramir, just sit a moment at least. See, the battle is still for now.” Gaellyn entreated him. “Here, drink some of this.” It was harsh liquor in the small flagon, but it would at least be something in the young man’s stomach.
Faramir accepted it, taking several gulps before coughing and gasping. Strangely, he smiled. The pain had dulled somewhat and he was feeling slightly lightheaded. “We can head them off as they get off at the piers. Use the archers, what we have left.”
It really didn’t matter when the last time was that he had slept for no one in his company had done so either, not since Ithilien, not since the armies started passing through their lands. Gondor was effectively surrounded with their southern armies paralyzed in the south as they fought the marauding pirates Minas Tirith was left wide open to attack.
He closed his eyes, trying to drown out the sounds of dying and wounded. People he knew, had grown up with, fought with and even trained with. The young man’s thoughts drifted to a quieter time, trying to drown out the screams and the crumbling walls around him, of large blue eyes and a thick mop of dark curly hair. He took a few deep breaths, at least Frodo had got away, for the moment. Perhaps the tide of battle would turn if they could hold out a few more days.
Gaellyn laid a hand on his shoulder and massaged it gently. Even though they had been friends for many years, they had never been close. No one ever got close to Faramir, not until recently. They may have wanted to, they may have tried, but the young man would not let them. He leant into the blonde’s touch, wishing the world away, wishing -everything- away. How could he possibly return to Minas Tirith now? His father would have his head.
Osgiliath was lost, no matter what they tried. There were too many orcs coming from Mordor, and yet more pouring through every day. He’d tried every tactic he could, but his father had not given him enough men, nor had he given him a task that was possible. Defending the city without Gondor’s armies was nearly impossible, and only Boromir had ever been able to accomh ith it.
He should not have thought of Frodo just then, for since the hobbits had been sent away he had tried not to think at all, for his life was forfeit anyway. He’d given up the ring of power. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, not quite realizing in the slightest how ill he looked. Gaellyn frowned, sensing the change in Faramir‘s breathing. “Captain Faramir…”
BEGIN FLASHBACK --
Sweet blue eyes, gazing at him rapturously, pushing into him with more force than he could have possibly imagined. It had been nothing like the other times with men, and that one time with his brother…Faramir grasped Frodo’s shoulders, shuddering hard as the hobbit’s seed filled him.
“You’re beautiful Faramir.” Frodo whispered, kissing his neck and settling upon his stomach as he withdrew. “Do you know that? So beautiful. I love your eyes, everything…” The hobbit’s next words were cut off as he was captured in a kiss and the Gondorian captain curled his aarouaround the Ringbearer gently, holding him close.
Beautiful, he supposed, that’s what they had all told him. Even Boromir. He’d heard it so often. What good did that get you? He sighed inwardly. Their time together was slowly coming to a close. It was not real love, it was lust, pure and simple. The hobbit had needed release badly, and Faramir had been there. In fact, he could have sworn he’d heard Frodo call out another name when the hobbit had climaxed. Perhaps it had been his imagination. It had sounded like *Strider*.
“Thank you.” Frodo had whispered sweetly, kissing the young man’s jaw. Faramir had closed his eyes and not spoken further, simply murmuring in appreciation. He had long since been taught not to voice his own thoughts. It never got him anywhere in Gondor. No matter how many times one of his father’s soldiers had used his body. It had long been secretly whispered that Faramir was an easy target whenever Boromir was not around, and never had he complained about the treatment, at least they did not hurt him. They only sought to humiliate hior eor everyone knew what would happen should they really cause him pain. He -was- weak, like his father often said. Thankfully, it was often over very quickly, and they would let him go on his way. In fact, he almost lookedwardward to those occasions, at least someone was paying attention to him, at least someone wanted him.
When he had refused to let them go at first, Frodo had been very angry. After the Nazgul had left, Faramir had finally relented and decided to let them go. Frodo had begged Faramir to come with them, but the young man shook his head. He had made his decision. It had only been one moment in time for them both, and Frodo had to have understood that. Nothing would come of it. Why then could he not get those eyes out of his head? Faramir had given up on life when Boromir died, for as long as Boromir lived, there was still hope for happiness. There was still hope that one day he might be loved for who he was and not what he was, a beautiful Prince, an easy target, a momenttimetime. Now, all he could do was take as many orcs down with him as he possibly could.
---END FLASHBACK
Gaellyn frowned when the captain swayed and looked like he was going to try and straighten. He might have, but just then Faramir stumbled, collapsing forward. The Gondorian fighter cursed under his breath for the fighting had just begun anew. He dragged Faramir back to the wall and propped him up, holding him gently. “Captain…captain..” he smacked his cheeks a couple of times, attempting to revive him. Warm…the fighter frowned, and removed his glove quickly to feel the young man’s cheeks. Blistering warm. Faramir was burning up. The captain had been sick all this time, and he hadn’t said a thing. “Joseras, water.” he snapped at a youth who had just been running by, his shield held up to deflect an arrow.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. The Captain is wounded, he should not even be here.” Gaellyn cursed under his breath, takihe she second gourd from the other. “Stubborn fool. He should have gone immediately to Minas Tirith when his father summoned him. Denethor would not let his laws claim the life of his only living son.” He dabbed a half-soiled cloth with the water and rubbed it against Faramir’s face, dropping some down his forehead so it trickled into his eyes. He wasn’t out for very long,
He started, blinking rapidly as he looked between one to the other. “What happened? Was I hit?” Faramir stumbled over the words despite his attempt to appear alert.
“No, Captain. You fainted.” Gaellyn said matter of factly. Faramir stared at him, about to dispute the comment when from above a stone came sailing at them. They had no time to react otherwise as Gaellyn threw Faramir out of the way.
The battle had started again.
The young Prince of Gondor struggled to his feet, and despite the protesting look he got from his friend drew his sword to continue fighting for Osgiliath and for Gondor. What else could he do?
**TO BE CONTINUED**