TITLE: A King's Love
AUTHOR: Kassandra
DISCLAIMER: All belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm just borrowing them to do things with them he surely wouldn't have approved of. Sorry.
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: The history of a love that cannot be.
CONTENT: Aragorn / Faramir
NOTES: Set in the early summer 3019, just after Aragorn's coronation.
FEEDBACK: Will make my day.

WARNING: SLASH! If that is not your cup of tea hit the delete button NOW!

A King's Love

PART I - To Know

Aragorn sat on his throne, and the never-ending procession of representatives from other lands, petitioners and thankful inhabitants of Gondor was already beginning to tire him out, although he had only just begun to attend to his obligations as king. He looked about the crowd beneath the high ornamented ceiling, desperate for a distraction, anything that would release him from all this at least for a while, but there was no help in sight. He wondered where the rest of the fellowship was, envying their freedom to explore the city, when a familiar face caught his eye. Faramir, Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien made his way slowly but determinedly through the tight gathering of people. He excused himself for many a time until he finally bowed deeply in front of Aragorn after throwing the foreign man that had just started to assure the king of his land's allegiance a polite apologetic smile.

"King Elessar", he said gravely, one hand pushing a long reddish-blonde curl out of his eyes, the other resting lightly on the hilt of his sword, "there is a matter that needs your immediate attention." When he looked up Aragorn saw an amused expression in the younger man's eyes and his lips were curved into a conspirative smile. He dropped his voice and bowed his head again, "I had the feeling you might wish to escape for a while."

Aragorn smiled gratefully back at him, then he forced a serious expression onto his face and stood, raising his voice, "Dear visitors, please excuse me, there is an urgent business I have to attend to. Feel free to have a look around this beautiful city and come back tomorrow." He turned around and left the throne room through the back door, motioning for Faramir to follow him.

All of a sudden, the constant talking and abrupt rush of annoyed whispering was cut off and blissful silence, carried by the wafting cool air in the high halls, surrounded them while they ascended the stairs that led to the king's private chambers. Inside Aragorn leaned against the rough wall next to the door and sighed. For a moment, he traced a forefinger over the ridges in the mortar, a ritual he found rather relaxing.

He had almost forgotten that he was not alone, when suddenly there was quiet melodic laughter, and then, "Right now you wish naught more than not to be Isildur's heir for a while, do you not?"

The soft voice came from somewhere beside him, decidedly too close for Aragorn's comfort at the moment. However, he refrained from commenting on it and instead slowly opened his tired eyes to look at Faramir. "Thank you for saving me."

The steward smiled. "You are welcome, my lord. But my actions have not been entirely unselfish, for I wish to discuss a certain matter with you." He shrugged. "I did not know when else to approach you..."

Aragorn nodded while peeling himself out of a part of the stiff formal attire that had made him feel uncomfortable all day. Then he suddenly shook his head slightly, more to himself than to Faramir. "King only for a couple of days", he muttered, "and already my steward has to make a formal appointment to see me." He threw the robe over a nearby chair before settling down on it. "What is it?"

Faramir kept on standing leaned against the door, gazing at Aragorn with carefully hooded eyes. His posture, however, bespoke his inner turmoil. "King Elessar, my brother Boromir... You were with him when he died, were you not?"

It was exactly the last thing Aragorn had expected, and he tried to hide his uncomfortable surprise with more or less success. He had known with a cold certainty that Faramir would speak up about the subject, but he had secretly hoped that the other man would wait longer. "I was."

Faramir uneasily shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I realise that this might be a highly impudent request, but... Would you tell me about his last moments? About what befell on this final journey of his life?"

"I am afraid that not all the things you can learn about the last deeds of your brother would enlighten your heart." Aragorn silently congratulated himself to his steady voice and choice of words. "And I do not like the dead to be a matter of discussion in passing."

They studied each other for a moment, a question lurking in Faramir's cornflower blue eyes. He cocked his head, sincere gaze fixed on Aragorn who felt himself becoming slightly nervous under the unwavering if not unfriendly regard. "I respect your objections, my lord, but... you are the only one who can help me. And as much as I have wished to delay this, the upsetting dreams of what might have happened to my brother would not give me a choice in it." He paused, swallowing. "I could not sleep properly for some time, and I do not wish my tiredness to affect the quality of my work."

Aragorn sighed, suddenly filled with overwhelming compassion for the younger man. He gazed at Faramir and for the first time noticed signs of excessive weariness on his face. He stood and stepped towards the steward, meaning to appear cordial. "If your time allows you might want to come again in the evening, and we will drink a glass of wine - then I will tell you everything you wish to learn and be a friend for you to mourn with."

A quick flicker of curiosity passed over Faramir's face before he bowed his head as a sign that he accepted Aragorn's offer. "Very well. I shall bring the wine." When he looked up again he smiled.

Aragorn, feeling somewhat relieved, considered the conversation to be over and went into the next room, changing into more comfortable clothes. When he returned Faramir was still lingering at the door. Aragorn frowned confused, wondering what the steward could still want. "Is there aught else I can help you with?" he asked with barely suppressed impatience.

"Actually... yes." Faramir smiled a little awkwardly and crossed his arms behind his back, unwittingly standing at attention. "There is something that has been weighing on my mind for a while now."

Aragorn tried to encourage him to go on by raising an inquiring eyebrow while Faramir seemed to become more disquieted by the moment.

"I wondered about the Lady Éowyn..." His voice trailed off, and his eyes seemed to beg Aragorn to conclude the nature of Faramir's speech all by himself without forcing the steward to spell it out.

Aragorn bent slightly forward. "Are there tidings from Rohan, yet?"

"No, none that I have heard of." Faramir hesitated again, looking down. "I wanted to ask you... for the lady's hand." He sighed relieved and raised his gaze again to that of the other man. "Will you do it? I have already asked her, but she wanted me to get your blessings." He paused, his tongue flicking out to moisten his dry lips. "It would also lighten my own heart if you approved of such a union."

Aragorn pondered Faramir's words for a moment, puzzled by the man's request. He inspected a little wound on the palm of his hand that he could not remember receiving, wondering why he did not feel pain although he put a strain on the tender edges of the cut with every movement of his hand. When he looked up again Faramir eyed him with shy expectation and nervously stroked one square hand over his beard, the short hairs bristling.

"You have my blessing, Faramir", Aragorn simply said, unsure as to what other words were appropriate in such a situation. He only hoped that there were not so many other people in Gondor and Arnor that hoped the approval for their king would somehow ensure the happiness and prosperity of a marriage.

"Thank you, my lord", Faramir replied, an expression of gratitude and relief finally relaxing his features, "it means a lot to the both of us."

Aragorn nodded, waving dismissively with one hand. "It is all right. So will the wedding be held here or in Edoras?"

"We have not yet decided."

After a moment of silence that stretched uncomfortably long Aragorn spoke up, "Is that all? If not, do say so now. And do not be afraid", he added as an afterthought, regarding Faramir with a slight smile.

It mirrored on the steward's face, only with a rather self-deprecating note. Then he bowed his head respectfully. "No, my lord, there is no more. Thank you again." He turned around, but before closing the door behind him, he said over his shoulder, good humour crinkling the skin in the corners of his eyes, "I will see you after dinner."

***

Aragorn leaned on the fissured balustrade and let his eyes travel over the several circles of Minas Tirith, a part of him still unable to fathom that after all these long decades of travelling and serving he had finally come into his heritage. He shaded his eyes and surveyed the hustle and bustle of the citizens below, feeling uncomfortable reminded of his responsibility and the fact that these people had laid their lives into his hand and looked up at him to protect them. Relief washed over him when he remembered that Faramir was still there as a representative of the old House of Stewards, and that he knew far better about the daily goings-on in this city and what her inhabitants expected from their ruler. Since Aragorn was sure that he would have to leave Minas Tirith in order to set things right in the Northern Kingdom and also at the southern borders it eased his inner troubles to know that there would still be someone he could trust to reign the city in his stead, at least as long as the steward could neglect his work in Ithilien.

Aragorn let his gaze travel further and squinted against the afternoon sunlight. Men were busy on the fields of Pelennor, and where the Rammas Echor stood closest to the city he imagined to see figures repairing the wall where it had suffered from the dark onslaught of Sauron. He had been aware that all these things were necessary, but he could not remember ordering any of it over the course of the last days for so many other matters had taken up his mind. Therefore, it must be Faramir's doing.

A lone man - someone from the Tower Guard judged by his apparel - made his way up the ascending road towards Aragorn, and when he had reached the king, he recognised the face, covered by a faint sheen of sweat from the exertion on the warm spring sun, as that of Captain Beregond.

Beregond bowed deeply, taking a deep breath before saying, "King Elessar, Prince Faramir sent me to give you a message. He is very sorry that he will not be able to attend the appointment with you this evening, for in the second circle an old house has collapsed and he has to take care of the now homeless inhabitants."

"Is someone hurt?" Aragorn asked.

"No, no, do not worry, my lord, the house was reportedly empty when its roof broke down. But the family has nowhere to live now, and they are rather poor, and none of it was their fault, for their house had been damaged during the war."

"They are very welcome to stay in the Tower, then. There is room enough for guests. Now lead me to that house for I would like to inspect the damage myself. Did aught happen to the surrounding buildings? We should probably evacuate those, too, until we have examined the houses to make sure that they are safe."

"From what I saw there seem to be cracks in the walls of the adjoining buildings, but I am not an expert concerning architecture", Beregond explained, effortlessly keeping up with Aragorn's great strides. "The lord Faramir has sent for a suitable person to carry out the necessary examinations, but until then the inhabitants should best not spend the night in their homes. So there are quarters in the Tower, you say?"

"Indeed, there are. And even if there were not I would sooner give them my own bed to sleep in than have them stay in their dangerous houses." Aragorn shook his head and voiced his earlier thoughts, "There are so many things that need taking care of... I am afraid that without Faramir I would be lost."

"He is a good man, my lord, and a worthy steward whatever his father thought. Trained in combat as well as learned in lore and song which is an unusual combination to be found in a warrior." Beregond paused, as if considering whether he would betray his Prince's trust with his next words. "People... some people look down on him for he seems to them less valiant than his brother. He did not have an easy life with his father's bitter words and disregard to accompany him."

"Why are you telling me this, Beregond?" Aragorn looked straight ahead towards the gate that would lead them to the third circle, but he felt the stiffening of the man next to him nevertheless. He wondered whether his voice had sounded too harsh, but he really did not feel like discussing such intimate matters with somebody except when Faramir himself would choose to do so, even if Beregond was one of his friends.

"I apologise", the other man exclaimed hastily, "I should not have-"

"Do not worry", Aragorn cut him off, "I assume you merely intended to make me understand the lord Faramir's better. But I assure you, Beregond, that I think of him no less than of his brother and that I am not someone to lend his ears to petty gossip."

"I did not mean to imply-"

"No, you did not", Aragorn said calmly but resolutely. "Let us drop the matter, then."

The rest of the way they covered in silence, with Beregond occasionally staring anxiously at Aragorn, unsure whether he had angered the king. When they neared the site of the broken building and could already make out the red head of Faramir catching the sunlight Aragorn said quietly, "It makes me glad for the steward that he has such friends as you are, Captain."

Beregond did not have the chance to reply, for Faramir had caught sight of them and approached them quickly. Aragorn noticed that his sleeves were rolled up to reveal sinewy forearms, also his hands and parts of his face were covered with dust. "Beregond, I did not send you to fetch the king but to deliver my apology", he scolded good-naturedly, then his gaze shifted swiftly from the Captain to the king, and his tone of voice changed subtly from familiarity to reverence. "Lord, you really did not have to bother with coming here. I did not want to keep you from more important business, so-"

Aragorn held up his hands in an appeasing gesture and smiled. "What is more important than the well-being of the citizens?" He put a reluctant hand on Faramir's shoulder and led him back towards the wrecked building. "Where are the families of this house and those that surround it? I would like to have a guard guiding them to the Tower and show them to the quarters where they will stay until we have arranged otherwise."

"The Tower? My lord, are you serious?"

Aragorn laughed mirthlessly, his finger involuntarily gripping the steward's shoulder harder. "I suppose Denethor would not have approved of such measures. Will you still order one of your men to do this task? How about Beregond here..." The Captain had trailed behind them, raising his head attentively at the mentioning of his name. "I have already told him what I have in mind."

"Indeed", Beregond spoke up. "Men have been sent to look for the inhabitants of the ruined building, and I will have guards positioned in front of the still intact houses in the neighbourhood to have those families prevented from going inside before all is made secure." He bowed. "I will send report on the proceedings. Undoubtedly the people will want to thank you-"

"Yes, I believe so. Will you receive their gratitude for me for the time being? I might meet them in the Tower later."

Beregond nodded and walked away to mind the business at hand. Aragorn turned back to Faramir, finally realising that he still held onto the other man's shoulder. He drew his hand back hastily, embarrassed by his careless and inappropriate display of familiarity. "I hope you do not mind me taking matters into my own hands."

The steward shrugged, a quick unsettled glance darting down to his shoulder where Aragorn's hand had just lain. "Absolutely not. You are the king, my lord."

Aragorn could not get rid of the feeling that this justification was somehow not sufficient, and that Faramir did not believe it to be, either, but he decided to not comment on it. "Have you examined the wreckage already? I should like to see if aught of the inhabitant's possessions is intact and can be retrieved before night is falling."

"I did not want to send someone in there just now, for parts of the debris might be instable and fall down and kill someone." He eyed Aragorn dubiously. "You mind is set on it, is it not?" He sighed, somewhat resignedly. A sudden gust of wind tangled in his hair and he impatiently pushed it out of his eyes and behind his ears, thereby also marking his neck with dark stains of dust. "Then at least let me accompany you, my lord."

Aragorn nodded, starting to roll up his own sleeves. "You somehow seem reluctant to have me dirty my own hands, Faramir. I might be the king, but surely you have not forgotten what I was before and how I came to be where I am now." Faramir strode purposefully towards the ruined building and tried to open the heavy wooden door that hung ajar in its hinges. Aragorn watched him struggle for a moment, then hastened to lend a hand. "Will you explain your behaviour?"

Faramir flinched quietly when a splinter from a burst plank drove into his finger. He let go of the door for a moment and caught the offending thing between his teeth, removing it from the skin. Blood welled up, but he did not care for it. After spitting the splinter out onto the pavement next to him, he said flatly, "I merely think you have enough to do without me putting unnecessary strain on you."

Aragorn was touched as well as angered by Faramir's concern for his well-being. "You are my steward, not my nurse", he stated sardonically. Together they managed to lift the door out of its hinges and carry it to a place nearby. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Faramir, truly, and also that you are taking care of things as long as I am still rather... unacquainted with the ways in this city. Nevertheless I will not tolerate you keeping important things from me like that."

Faramir regarded him with a disarming smile beneath lowered lashes when they ventured into the remains of the building, carefully ducking their heads to avoid hanging beams. Inside there was twilight with bright streaks of sunlight falling through the broken ceiling and dust swirling up everywhere Aragorn set his feet. When he felt the steward's gaze on him he turned, barely able to make out the outline of the other man's face. "Is there aught you want to say?"

"I owe you more than I could possibly make up for, even if my life lasted as long as that of the Númenórean kings of old", Faramir said, his voice serious. While he carefully made his way through what had once been the kitchen and watched out for Aragorn at the same time he continued, "The least that I can do is to help you. As your steward and friend. And if that includes saving you from unnecessary troubles that you would not have stayed away from on yourself, then, my lord, I will even live with your wrath."

Aragorn smiled despite himself at the eagerness of the younger man. A strange gleam caught his eye in the only other room, and, his vision finally fully accustomed to the play of light and shadows, he went to examine it. He felt reminded of his earlier words to Beregond, and how he had realised that although some people had frowned upon Faramir, he had as well inspired love in his men and the citizens of Minas Tirith. And in this he might have been more successful that his brother. "I would rather have a friend watching my back than someone who does it only out of duty", he said at length, normally. He carefully stepped over to an upturned bench and lifted it up to put it out of the way. Beneath he found a cat curled into a small furry ball, eyes that reflected the light rather eerily frightfully turned towards the intruder. "Look what we have here", Aragorn muttered and gently picked up the animal that went completely stiff under his hands.

"What is it", Faramir asked, making his way slowly towards the king from where he had poked on the rubble. "Did you find aught of noticeable worth? From what I have seen the furniture seems mostly broken and all else is probably buried somewhere beneath the debris. I would suggest to let be for today and come back tomorrow with more men to start clearing away the mess." His eyes fell on the cat in Aragorn's arms, its ears tightly sticking to the narrow head and its claws deeply buried in the man's clothing.

"I have found a survivor, and it is a rather unwilling one", Aragorn replied, amusement colouring his voice. "Well, now at least we do not have to leave with empty hands, and I assume the inhabitants will be glad to have this back. I only hope I will have made it back to the Tower before my shirt is torn to shreds." He looked up at Faramir to find the steward smiling absently with a cocked head. "Did you hear me? You look worn-out, Faramir. Why do you not finish for today?"

"Ah, no", the steward said wearily while wiping his dirty hands on the cloth of his trousers. "There is still so much-"

"That is an order", Aragorn cut him off. Then the tone of his voice softened. "Please, you need a rest. Did you not say that you suffered from lack of sleep? I am convinced that Minas Tirith will survive without you for a few hours."

Faramir pondered Aragorn's words for a moment, then he reluctantly nodded. "It seems I do not have a choice in the matter." He sighed and extended a hand to pet the cat's head but drew it back hastily when a low hiss greeted him. "What a wilful little creature", he remarked good-naturedly. "All right, then, I will go back to my rooms and take a bath."

When Faramir had led them back outside into the now setting sun he turned around to Aragorn. "Thank you for your help, my lord. Without your generous offer to take the people in we would have faced serious troubles accommodating them, for in these times nobody has much to spare. I will have the other buildings examined for possible dangers tomorrow. And let me assure you that I am dearly sorry that I took so much of your time." He smiled, the lines around his eyes and mouth dark with dust, giving him a roguish look.

The other man shrugged, carefully weighing the cat in his grasp. The animal seemed to have finally accepted its fate, for its paws still kneaded Aragorn's chest but at least the claws were drawn in now. "Oh, it was pleasant to work with my hands again, after all the diplomatic duties. I should thank you for giving me the possibility."

Their eyes locked for a moment, and without him really noticing it, Aragorn's lips curved upward. "Well, then..." he drawled.

"Am I still invited this evening?" Faramir asked unexpectedly, his gaze straying away from the other man's face for a moment to look at the guards positioned along the street.

"Yes, of course", Aragorn replied, almost too quickly. "My order to relax did only refer to your work. And if it will help relieve a little your burden..." His voice trailed of, a sudden shadow darkening his eyes.

Faramir caught it and smiled gently. "It might relieve a little of yours, too." He stared at the filthy tips of his boots for a moment. "I will leave you now to give a couple of commands before retiring for today. Until after dinner, then." He bowed his head and walked past the other man.

Aragorn absent-mindedly scratched the cat's furry side, barely aware that his finger was not bitten. When something in the ruined building collapsed even further he was startled out of his reverie and began ascending the long way back to the tower. Looking back over the wall from a little higher upward, he saw Faramir's men guarding the buildings, but the steward himself had been swallowed by the maze of Minas Tirith.

To be continued...