Never Parted-Second Born Part 2

Title: Never Parted (Second Born Series, Part 2)

Series: Second Born

Author: Khylea

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Celeborn/Faramir

Timeline: About two weeks after the battle at the Pelennor Fields, but before Aragorn’s coronation. Most definitely AU, since I much prefer to think of Faramir with Celeborn than with Éowyn.

Archive: Feel free, just drop me a URL where I can visit it please.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, no profit is being made. Usual stuff ya know....

Feedback: Almost as good as a chocolate covered Celeborn. sl_chester@hotmail.com

Beta: Manon, the best beta ever to walk the face of the earth. IMHO of course. LOL

Summary: The sequel to “Second Born”. Faramir lies near death in Minas Tirith, and only a love from the past can bring him back.

Author's Notes: Okay, here it finally is. I have had tons of requests for a sequel to Second Born, and I’ve finally had time to write it. For those who have been patiently (or impatiently, haha) waiting, I hope it lives up to your expectations. This is the first fic that has been a true sequel to another one I’ve written. FYI, words enclosed in asterisks *like this* are a character’s thoughts.

The early morning sun slanted through the high windows in the Houses of Healing, casting the face of the figure sitting next to the lone bed into deep shadows. Sighing, he wetted a cloth with an aromatic liquid from the basin on the table next to the bed and gently bathed the face of the man lying on the bed with the cloth. The seated figure removed the cloth and placed it back into the basin and rubbed his forehead, fighting a headache. He barely noticed the heavy wooden door opening and closing, and only just registered the figure quietly approaching his side. The other remained where he was for a moment, staring at the young man on the bed for a moment before speaking.

“Lord Faramir still does not wake, Your Highness?”

“Stop calling me that, Felaron!” Aragorn snapped in exasperation. “You have known me since I was an infant in swaddling clothes. I would like at least one person in this place to call me by my name.”

“Forgive me, Estel,” Felaron said softly, looking closely at the sunken eyes of the king. “How long has it been since you slept?”

Aragorn shrugged, staring intently at Faramir. For a long time, nothing was said. “No, he does not wake, Felaron,” he finally answered. “And I am at a loss as to why. His injuries were severe, but they are mostly healed. He should be awake. Perhaps weak and disoriented, but awake. There is no physical reason to account for his unconsciousness.”

“No physical reason,” Felaron repeated softly. “But perhaps it is not something physical that keeps him asleep.”

Aragorn looked sharply at the other healer. “What do you mean?”

“I talked with that young Hobbit friend of yours, Peregrin Took, when you returned from the Black Gate. Lord Denethor tried to burn himself and Lord Faramir alive.”

“Yes, I know that,” Aragorn interrupted, “and had it not been for Pippin’s courage, we would not be tending a patient at all.”

“Yes,” Felaron agreed, “but did he tell you that Lord Faramir regained consciousness for a brief moment after Peregrin pushed him off the funeral pyre?” Aragorn shook his head. “He saw his father burn himself to death. A father he tried his whole life to please and never could. And now he will never be able to. His brother is gone, the king has returned to take over rule of Gondor from the stewards.....” He let his voice trail off.

“He feels he has nothing to live for,” Aragorn said softly.

Felaron nodded. “Aye, so it would appear.”

Aragorn gently stroked the hair back off Faramir’s forehead. “So then how do we convince him he does have a reason to live?”

“Perhaps you need someone else for that task, Estel,” a soft voice said from the door, and the two spun around quickly to see a tall, silver-haired figure in deep blue traveling robes, standing just inside the door. His face was in deep shadow, the large hood he wore backlit from the early morning sun, but the powerful presence of an elf lord was unmistakable, as was the silver embroidery of a mallorn tree on the breast of his robe.

Aragorn bowed deeply, placing his right hand over his heart in a gesture of respect. “My Lord Celeborn....to what do we owe the honor of your presence?”

Celeborn barely seemed to hear him. Moving quickly to the prone figure on the bed, he laid a hand on Faramir’s forehead and spoke softly to him in elvish. After a moment, he looked up. “Estel, please leave us. Draw the curtains and ensure we are not disturbed until midday tomorrow.”

“But, my lord....” Aragorn started to protest. “He needs care. I cannot abandon my patient.”

Celeborn stood and grasped Aragorn’s hands in his large, strong ones, piercing the king with a penetrating gaze. “As you pointed out, his wounds are healed, Estel. He has no further need for bandages or herbs. What he needs now are for the wounds of his heart to be repaired.” He glanced at Felaron. “You are correct. He feels he has nothing to live for. He believes all those who cared for him are now gone. I will show him that is not so.” He returned his gaze to Aragorn, who seemed uncertain and confused. Of course he did not know about the previous relationship between the Lord of Lórien and the young ranger from Ithilien. “You have known me all your life, Estel,” he said softly. “Do you truly think me capable of harming him?”

Aragorn flushed the color of his royal tunic. “No, of course not, my lord. If you believe this is what he requires. I will be in the next room; you have only to call if you have need of me.”

With a nod, Celeborn released Aragorn’s hands. “Of course. Now please....leave us.” Though the words were spoken softly, it was clear they were not a request. Aragorn nodded, and with a last look back at Faramir, he and Felaron left the room, closing the door softly behind them.

With a smile, Celeborn pulled the heavy curtains, throwing the room into near darkness. He lit a few candles, their soft glow casting gentle, flickering shadows through the room. His smile dropping, he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, frowning at the sunken face of Faramir. Reaching out a hand, he gently caressed the thin face, brushing the reddish-brown hair back off the pale forehead.

The healers had done a remarkable job keeping their unconscious charge as healthy as they were able; though he had not woken in nearly two weeks, they had managed to drip nourishing liquids into his mouth bit by bit, entrusting in his natural swallowing reflexes to keep him from starving. And though he had been limp and unresponsive, he had been carefully carried to the bath faithfully every day, his body bathed in rich soaps and healing herbs.

Celeborn pushed back the blankets and caressed the nearly healed arrow wounds, one in his chest, one his stomach. Though he knew his skills in healing paled in comparison to the Lord of Imladris, even riding fast, Elrond would not reach Minas Tirith for many days. Celeborn knew he had been summoned, Estel would not have overlooked that, but after delivering Andúril to his foster son at Dunharrow, he had returned to Imladris to look after his dying daughter. Celeborn, on the other hand, had left Lórien when he had first sensed Faramir’s injuries. Closing his eyes and calling upon the strength of the Valar, he laid one hand on each wound, softly chanting the most powerful healing spell he knew.

Faramir moaned softly and moved slightly on the bed, but still his eyes did not open. Celeborn continued what he was doing for a bit longer before finally realizing Estel had spoken true. The last vestiges of damage from the injuries were not what was keeping the man unconscious. Rather, the hopelessness of his situation, the loneliness of thinking himself irrevocably alone, his father and brother dead, even stewardship of Gondor denied him by the return of the king. He felt there was no one who cared if he lived or died, no one who loved him and wanted him to go on for them. *There is someone who loves you, my dear Faramir.* Celeborn thought sadly. *But how do I convince you of that?*

His expression still thoughtful, he continued gently caressing the man’s body, Faramir unconsciously responding to the touches, pressing into the soft hands, even in sleep. After a moment, Celeborn removed his robes and tunic, laying down next to Faramir in nothing but his leggings. Pulling the limp body back against his chest, he wrapped his arms around him, slowly stroking up and down the flat stomach, occasionally brushing his fingertips against the taut nipples.

“Wake up, Faramir.....wake up my love....” he softly whispered, kissing and gently nibbling on Faramir’s ear. The man moved slightly in his embrace, moaning softly at the gentle touches. “Come back to me, beautiful one....let me love you....”

After a moment, he gently laid a hand on Faramir’s heart and began a slow chant to Ilúvatar, asking the Creator to return the man to the conscious world. Suddenly he jerked his hand away as if burned, gasping at the feeling of darkness and of death he sensed in Faramir’s soul. He swallowed hard, feeling a fear greater than he had in many years. He had been wrong; the man was not just giving up on life, he was actively seeking death. Taking a deep breath, he laid his hand again on Faramir’s heart, once again feeling the brush of death against his mind. But this time he did not recoil. *If you wish to take him, you must take me as well.* He thought to whomever it was that took mortal souls after their separation from the physical body.

He did not know how long the battle went on; it may have been a minute or an hour, but eventually he felt the pull lessen, and ever so slowly was able to return Faramir’s spirit to his body. The dark presence did not withdraw, not willing to give up so easily on its prize, but rather remained near, watching and waiting for another chance to gain the man’s soul. *I will die before allowing you another chance at him,* Celeborn thought darkly.

The man again moved slightly in his arms, his face beginning to acquire a little color, his shallow breathing becoming deep and regular. He relaxed against the warm body underneath him and, after a while, Celeborn smiled as he began to snore softly. Knowing the man was now out of danger and was merely sleeping, he slipped his leggings off and pulled the covers more tightly around them both, pillowing the man’s head on his chest and gently stroking the soft hair.

The hours passed while Faramir slept peacefully in the elf’s protective embrace. The candles burned low and one by one winked out, throwing the room into deep shadow. Rather than moving from the bed to replace them, Celeborn re-positioned his partner more comfortably across his chest and increased his own inner glow, remembering how it had comforted the man when last they had been together.

Finally he began to stir and mutter slightly in his sleep and, with a start, woke. He blinked several times in the darkened room, clearly disoriented and confused. “Wha....” he croaked out, his voice harsh after being unconscious for so long.

“Easy, mellon,” Celeborn soothed, tightening his grip on the man’s shoulder. Faramir looked up at the sound of the voice, his eyes wide and confused.

“Who....” he forced out, trying to force his muddled brain to focus. It was an elf, he knew that much, but the face was blurry and in deep shadow, and his eyes refused to focus enough on the fine details to be able to tell exactly who it was. But the voice....the voice was familiar....if only he could remember....

“Do you not remember the one who you shared such pleasure with in Rohan?” Celeborn whispered softly, gently caressing the side of the man’s face.

Suddenly, with a gasp, the memories came rushing back to him. The inn, the mysterious stranger, the elf who refused to identify himself, the night of pleasure, followed by a painful parting the next morning. A parting that only after it was completed did the man realize who he had been with. The newly regained color suddenly drained from his face as he tore his gaze away from Celeborn’s.

“My....my Lord Celeborn, forgive me....I did....I did not recognize you.” He pulled away from the gentle embrace and raised himself as far off the bed as his weakened body would allow, then lowering his eyes to the coverlet, bowed deeply to the Lord of Lórien.

With a frown, Celeborn moved closer and lifted the man’s body upright until he was sitting on his heels, keeping an arm around his waist to steady him. Faramir allowed the touch, but kept his head bowed and his eyes downcast. His frown deepening, Celeborn gently lifted his chin, forcing the man to look into his eyes. “Why do you deprecate yourself so my dear Faramir?”

Faramir was at a loss to explain his actions; all he felt was uncertainty and fear. Fear at what his father would think or say if he ever found out his youngest had spent a night with the powerful Lord of Lórien. Denethor had made no secret of his loathing for elves, though his distaste for the Fair Folk had not transferred to either of his sons. But what was Celeborn doing here? If his father saw him like this....naked and in bed with an elf, he would disown him for sure. “Please....you must leave here, if father finds us....”

“Faramir....” Celeborn gently interrupted. “Do you not remember?” The blank stare told him the man did not. “The oil? The funeral pyre?”

Faramir gasped, closing his eyes in pain, tears running down his cheeks. “Dead....father is dead....” he whispered softly. “And Boromir is gone....the king....I heard them talking....the man who tended me....King Elessar has returned....nothing....I have nothing....”

Celeborn moved closer and pulled the man into a tight embrace. “You do not have nothing, my dear Faramir. You have your life, your health will return in time. The war is over, the ring destroyed, Sauron defeated, his armies decimated.” Faramir pulled away slightly, looking up into the elf’s face.

“Then Master Baggins and Master Gamgee were successful? They made it past Cirith Ungol?”

“Aye, they did. They are resting in nearby rooms.” Faramir nodded and wiping away the tears, looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Do you remember telling me I had a task to accomplish in my life that no one else was capable of, not even my brother?”

Celeborn nodded. “I do. Did you discover your task?”

“To let them go....” he said softly. “To let them destroy the ring. They told me Boromir tried to take the ring, and others wished to possess it as well.”

“Like your father.”

“Like my father,” he agreed softly. “But after seeing the attack on Osgiliath, I saw we had no chance of defeating the dark one, even with the ring. He was simply too powerful, his minions too numerous. I saw the only chance for us to succeed was for the ring to be destroyed, for Sauron to be defeated from within.” He shook his head sadly. “We were outnumbered by at least ten to one at Osgiliath.”

Celeborn nodded. “The forces who attacked Minas Tirith I am told were even more numerous. Estel estimates their number at between fifty and a hundred thousand.”

“Estel?”

“Forgive me, King Elessar. Estel was the name he was known by as a youth.” He looked closely at the man. “Faramir, you never wished to rule Gondor. You were content to let that task fall to your older brother.”

“Aye, I was.”

“Then why do you rue the loss of that which you never desired to possess?”

Faramir blushed and said nothing for a long time. “Because I thought it was the one way in which I could prove my worth to father. I never wanted it, but I thought if it ever fell to me, if something happened to Boromir and father was still alive but unable to rule, I could prove to him that I could take over, that I could lead our people in a direction that would make him happy.”

“But your father no longer lives, Faramir,” Celeborn said gently. “Why do you have to prove yourself to him now?”

“Because I would like to think there was one task I could accomplish that would satisfy him,” Faramir whispered, blinking back tears.

Celeborn moved closer and gently pulled the man against his shoulder. “Did you never do anything right in his eyes?”

Faramir shook his head, leaning into the comforting touch. “When we retook Osgiliath, just before Boromir left to go to Rivendell, father congratulated him on his victory. As always, Boromir tried to give some of the credit to me as well, and father gave me a cold stare and said that were it not for me, the city would still be standing.” He could no longer stop the tears. “And when he sent me out on the mission to attempt to retake Osgiliath, I made the mistake of asking if he had wished me killed instead of Boromir. I should have known his answer would be yes,” he whispered.

“Aye, Pippin told me about that.” Celeborn held the man tighter, gently rocking him on the bed, his brow furrowing in concern as Faramir clutched him like a lost child. “Perhaps it does not help to know this, Faramir, but your father was ill. Lady Galadriel told him many times he needed to cease using the Palantír. With each use of it, Sauron’s hold on him grew stronger. But he refused, saying he needed it to protect Gondor’s borders, to see what the enemy was doing. I do not believe he meant much of what he said to you.”

“It still hurts, whether he meant it or not.”

Celeborn kissed his forehead. “I know it does. But do you wish to continue being hurt by what your father said to you? Would it not be preferable to look ahead to the rest of your life?”

Faramir nodded. “Yes, but it is so hard when everything I thought I would have to look forward to is gone. And I do not believe I will stay here. I have never been comfortable here. This is my father’s city; it has never been mine.”

“Where will you go?”

“Ithilien perhaps. I have spent the last several years patrolling there. Even with the dark shadow hanging over it, it was beautiful. I would like to see it recover its former beauty now that Mordor has lost its power.”

Celeborn smiled and nodded. He would not say anything about how he had heard several of the king’s advisors talking about giving the strip of land between Gondor and Mordor to the man, as a reward for his bravery and loyalty to Gondor. Not yet. Though he was sure if he asked Estel, the king would give Faramir anything he wished. He was not as blind as Denethor to the man’s contributions to the defense of his country.

Faramir sighed, closing his eyes and allowing himself to be held, laying his head against a strong shoulder. For many minutes, nothing was said while the two listened to the soft sounds from outside, the birds, the wind and the soft voices of people going about their day. “My Lord....”

“Shhhh. No titles, please,” Celeborn interrupted gently.

“But you are....”

“Aye, but you need not call me that. Call me by my name, please.”

“Very well, if that is what you wish....does your wife know you are here?”

“She was the one who encouraged me to come.”

“Then she knows about us....in Rohan....”

“Yes.”

“And she does not mind?”

The elf sighed. “Faramir, my marriage to Galadriel lost its passion many years ago. I love her still, and I know she loves me. But it is the love you feel for a best friend, which is what we are to one other. We have stayed married for convenience and because we know it is what is best for our people. But we agreed years ago that the other was free to pursue outside relationships. She has had other lovers over the years as well.”

“But your people are leaving these shores; will you not sail with her?”

Celeborn shook his head and sighed softly. “Aye, she will leave soon. With the destruction of the one ring, the three rings of the elves have lost their power.”

“Then she did bear a ring of power,” Faramir interrupted. “I thought so. And did Lord Elrond as well?”

Celeborn smiled. “Aye, you are most perceptive.”

“And the third?”

The smile widened. “Mithrandir.”

Faramir laughed for a moment. “I would have thought King Thranduil, or perhaps Círdan, but not Mithrandir.”
“Círdan did bear it for a while, but he gave it to Mithrandir many years ago.”

Faramir nodded. “Aye, I forget he is not the old man he appears to be.” His smile dropped. “But when your wife sails, you go with her....”

“No....I feel no urge to sail. Perhaps some day, but not for many years.”

“But where will you go?”

“Perhaps Rivendell. Elrond plans to sail at the same time as my wife. My grandsons plan to stay a while and I have seen little of them in the last few years. I believe I will spend some time with them.”

Faramir nodded, trying to ignore the crushing pain in his heart. Gone. Everyone he ever cared about was gone. Even his father, whom he had never been able to please, he had loved desperately. What would he do now? He did not want to spend the rest of his life alone.

Celeborn saw the frown and gave his partner a tight squeeze. “Not everyone is gone, beautiful Faramir. I am here. I will be here for as long as you need me.”

“But....you....”

“We have a connection that we developed that night in Rohan. Perhaps you could not feel it, but I could.” He gently stroked Faramir’s hair. “A connection that allowed me to watch over you, to keep you safe.”

Faramir’s eyes widened. “I....I felt....something....at times it seemed as if there was someone with me even when I was alone, or I had dreams of being held. At times it seemed as if someone was warning me of danger, telling me there was an enemy behind me when I am sure I neither heard nor smelled one....that was you?”

“Aye, it was. My duties prevented me from watching over you as often as I wished, but I did when I could.”

“But....but....why?”

Celeborn moved closer and gently kissed the man’s forehead. “Do you not know? Could you truly not feel my love for you?”

“I....I thought I felt something, but....we were only together for one night.”

“Yes, but I had known of you since you were just a child. I made many trips to Gondor during your father’s rule. I saw you grow from a mischievous child into a dedicated, caring young man. I grew to care for you long before that night in Rohan. Our time together merely strengthened what I had begun to feel for you earlier.”

“I....I did not know....”

“Did you not think it odd that I would invite a total stranger to my bed? I assure you, though my marriage has lacked passion for many years, I do have more standards for my bed partners than that.”

Faramir blushed and lowered his eyes. “Once I realized who you were, I thought it odd that you would bed me at all,” he whispered.

Celeborn gently lifted the man’s chin. “I know....why do you think I kept my identity from you?” He leaned closer and touched his lips to Faramir’s ever so gently. “But now that you know, I wonder....will you let me love you again?” he whispered, sliding a hand down Faramir’s chest, finding his shaft under the covers and ever so slowly stroking it.

Faramir sighed softly at the gentle hand on his shaft, his body responding almost instantly to Celeborn’s knowing touch. “I....I want....”

“Yes?” His hand ever so slowly increased its pace. “What do you want?”

“Take me....” Faramir whispered. “Please....let me feel your love again.” Celeborn nodded, pushing the blankets out of the way and letting his hands roam the man’s body. Faramir looked for the first time at the aftermath of his injuries and frowned, reaching to carefully touch the angry red scar on his stomach. Seeing his companion’s expression darken, Celeborn gently pulled his hand away, enfolding it in both of his.

“Now is not the time for pain or regrets, Faramir. You survived; your kingdom survived and is ruled by a fair and honest man.”

Faramir looked up into clear blue eyes. “Then you believe King Elessar will be a good leader?”

“I know he will. My daughter’s husband raised him from an infant when his birth father was killed. The king has the strength and devotion of men, the far-seeing wisdom of elves. He brings the best of both worlds to your kingdom.”

Faramir nodded. “Then I shall not worry.” Stretching up, he brought his lips closer to Celeborn’s, though he did not touch. Celeborn closed the distance himself, brushing his lips across the man’s. One hand slipped down Faramir’s back, the other reached up to entangle in his hair, pulling it through his fingertips. Faramir sighed softly at the touch, closing his eyes and leaning into the gentle hand.

Celeborn pushed him back until his head was lying on the pillows, then knelt over him, taking the man’s face between his hands and kissing him deeply. Ever so slowly he rubbed his groin against Faramir’s, brushing their awakening erections together. Faramir moaned softly, reaching up to stroke up and down the broad back, tracing patterns on the soft skin with his fingertips. “You glow....” he whispered, “with the light of the two trees.”

Celeborn smiled and arched into the touch, sighing softly. “Aye, we do.” He licked and nibbled on the man’s neck, working his way back to his ear. Reaching it, he breathed soft words of love into his ear. Faramir shuddered, both from the warm breath on his ear and the gently spoken words. Though his knowledge of elvish was limited, the intent of his companion’s words was clear. “So beautiful....” he finally whispered in Westron, causing bright tears to form in the man’s eyes. No one else had ever talked to him in such a way. No one else had ever made him feel so cared for, so valued. Though he had not been celibate since his night in Rohan with the Lord of Lórien, no other lover had spoken to his heart as this one had.

Slowly Celeborn moved down the man’s body, kissing and licking as he went. A long time he lingered on the dusky nipples, sucking on the taut flesh, flicking his tongue across the buds until the man was gasping and arching up into his touch. He reached a hand between the man’s legs, grasping his throbbing arousal and slowly stroking it while his mouth moved down the center of Faramir’s chest.

“Yes....please....” Faramir moaned softly, arching his hips up into the gentle touch. “More....” With a smile, Celeborn slid lower, darting his tongue into the man’s navel, then nuzzling into the dark red curls at the base of the hard shaft. Faramir gasped and clenched the sheets in his hands, pulling on them to keep himself from pulling on the soft hair tickling his stomach and legs.

Pulling away for a moment, Celeborn leaned over the side of the bed, finding the vial of vanilla scented massage oil in his discarded tunic. Setting it next to him on the bed, he rose up, engulfing the man’s erection in his mouth in one long stroke. Faramir gasped, thrusting up into the welcoming heat, moaning softly when he felt suction and a soft tongue circling his erection.

Celeborn shifted position on the bed, his own erection achingly hard and throbbing with each needy groan from the man. Moving lower still, he pushed Faramir’s legs apart and lapped at the tight opening. Faramir moaned louder, spreading his legs further and biting his lip so hard he tasted blood. But his lover was relentless, tasting, licking, until he thought he could stand no more.

A moment later, he smelled vanilla as the stopper was pulled from the bottle of oil, a finger carefully entering him, preparing him. He pressed down on the gentle invasion, reaching down with one hand to grasp Celeborn’s. His lover squeezed his hand and looked up at him with a smile. After a moment, another finger was added, then a third, and Faramir tensed in anticipation at feeling that secret pleasure spot within him touched. But his lover carefully avoided it, sliding his fingers in and out carefully, spreading the oil deep within his partner.

He again lowered his mouth onto the man’s erection, humming softly, sending the vibrations into the hard flesh. Faramir gasped in surprise, grasping the elf’s hand so hard he was afraid he would hurt the Firstborn. But Celeborn seemed not to mind, smiling up at the man as he continued softly sucking on his hard flesh.

Faramir was nearly out of his mind with sensation, gasping and moaning on the bed, arching his back to thrust his hips up into his partner’s mouth. He was so occupied with the throbbing pleasure coming from his shaft that he barely noticed when the elf turned his hand palm up, searching for the pleasure spot deep within him.

“AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!” He screamed in pleasure when the elf finally touched it, and only Celeborn quickly pulling his hand from Faramir’s and grasping the base of his erection kept him from climaxing right then. His own pleasure no longer controllable, Celeborn slicked his erection with oil, and sliding up the man’s body, buried himself to the hilt within his welcoming heat.

Faramir pulled his lover down against him, reaching around behind him to grasp the rounded globes of his buttocks, spreading his legs and urging his companion to move. Celeborn was more than happy to oblige, starting off with short, shallow thrusts, giving the man time to adjust to the feeling of fullness, then longer deeper strokes as the tightness around him began to relax.

When he could sense the man no longer felt pain from the intrusion, he angled his hips to brush against the pleasure spot within his lover, keeping his hold on the man’s shaft, not wanting to allow him to climax as of yet. Faramir squeezed his eyes shut tightly, the pleasure washing over him like a warm wave. Celeborn continued thrusting quickly, feeling his own climax fast approaching and, the instant he was on the pinnacle of it, released the man’s erection, whispering into his ear, “Come for me beautiful one.”

Faramir shuddered violently, his head thrashing side to side as he came hard, releasing across his stomach, shuddering again as he heard Celeborn groan and his warm seed fill him a moment later. For several long seconds, no sound was heard except for the shared gasps and moans as the two shuddered through their climaxes. Celeborn continued thrusting until his body weakened, then collapsed on the man’s body, breathing hard.

Faramir wrapped his arms around his lover, holding him close, feeling the softening shaft still within him. After a moment, Celeborn gently withdrew and rolled off him, cradling the man against his chest, gently stroking his back and shoulders. Faramir held onto him tightly, his mind still awash with the aftermath of his release.

For many long moments, the room was quiet while the two touched and caressed, whispering soft words to each other. Finally Faramir looked up into his companion’s clear blue eyes. “How long are you staying?”

Celeborn shook his head. “I am not sure. At least a few weeks, until the king is crowned. My wife will be joining me here shortly.”

“And then you will return to Lórien?”

“For a while, though Thranduil has asked for my presence in his forests. Now that the darkness of Dol Guldur is banished, he expects life to return to his lands. It must be decided what will be done with his territories, as he is not yet ready to sail as of yet either.”

“Will you stay there long?”

“Perhaps. My wife does not expect to stay for long. Now that her banishment from Valinor has been rescinded, she is eager to re-join her kin. Once she has sailed, I do not know where I will go. Perhaps Mirkwood, perhaps Rivendell as I mentioned earlier. I may stay here, I do not know.”

Faramir nodded, tracing patterns in the soft skin of Celeborn’s chest with his fingertips. “Then you really have nowhere you will feel comfortable calling home?”

“No, not with my wife leaving. The woods of Lothlórien were maintained all these years due to the influence of her ring, Nenya. Once that is gone, the trees will wither and die....” He hesitated. “I will not be there to see it. I could not bear to see my home waste away to nothing.”

“I thought an elf without a home faded away to nothing.”

“Aye, that often happens. Perhaps I will....with evil defeated, the world taken over by men, I have little place in this world any longer. Perhaps it would be best if I did fade from memory.” Though he tried to keep his tone neutral, Faramir could see the sadness in his eyes at the words and suddenly felt a deep kinship with the elf. They had both lost so much.

“Then why not sail? Be with your wife, with your kind?”

“I have seen Valinor. That is not where I wish to live either.”

“Perhaps....” Faramir hesitated. “Perhaps there is a place for you.”

“Where?”

Faramir looked down at the cover and took a deep breath, afraid to meet his eyes. “When your tasks are done with Thranduil, and you grow tired of spending time with your grandsons in Rivendell, perhaps you might consider living for a while in Ithilien,” he whispered. “I hear there is going to be a new steward there who would welcome the wisdom of an elf.” For a long time, Celeborn looked at the top of the man’s head, a smile slowly spreading over his face as Faramir continued. “I hear the new steward would be happy to give sanctuary to any elves who are left homeless by the change of the world.”

Celeborn tucked a finger under Faramir’s chin, gently lifting his face, seeing the tension in his body. He knew how terrified the man was of rejection and knew just how difficult the words had been to speak. “This elf would be most happy to know that, when his tasks are completed, he has a beautiful steward to welcome him home to Ithilien,” he said softly, leaning forward to gently kiss his companion, feeling Faramir’s body gradually relaxing under his touch.

Faramir sighed softly, feeling all the fear and uncertainty drain away at the elf’s gentle acceptance of his proposal. He closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted again, his relief draining the remaining strength from his body. “Rest now, my dear Faramir,” Celeborn said softly, lying back down on the bed and pulling the blankets up over them. “I shall be with you for a while yet, and soon, we shall never be parted.”

“Yes....never parted,” Faramir repeated softly, closing his eyes and letting sleep overtake him.

END