Author’s Notes: Pairing; Faramir/Legolas. Written for Christmas Challenge 2006.
Disclaimer: I don’t know any of these characters, and I’m not making any money from this story.
Warning: Hurt/Comfort non-con spanking of an adult.
WHEN THE POSSIBLE BECOMES PROBABLE
Faramir watched with hooded eyes, appearing to be engrossed in the latest council reports. The object of his attention sat silently in the window embrasure, staring out at the starlit sky. He had not moved in hours.
He sleeps, but does not rest. He eats when pressed to do so, but finds no nourishment. He walks the halls like a ghost, a shadow, a wraith. Aye, a wraith. Formless, drifting careworn through the halls, eyes hollowed and dark with care. Would that Aragorn was here to deal with this, to take charge, to bring light and laughter and release to one who suffers so. But Aragorn is not here. He is not here…and I am. It falls to me. Faramir thought to himself with a sigh.
Pushing aside the unread reports, he rose and stepped softly towards the high window. “Legolas. What troubles you, my friend? It is not like you to be so silent.” Faramir inquired gently.
Legolas looked up with an obviously false smile. “Nothing at all, Lord Faramir. I am quite well, thank you.” His eyes, dark with inexplicable sorrow, belied his reassuring words.
Inside the rapidly churning Elvish mind was a far different refrain. Why could they not stay? Why did they leave Minas Tirith…leave ME…at this season? It is Solstice…a time of light and joy and celebration. Yet they leave me here, alone, to cope with a youthful steward thrust too soon into the burden of adulthood; brought too quickly face-to-face with the ugly reality of war and pain and evil. Leave me to create a ‘holiday’ for a people devastated by the recent horrors of war and destruction. Leave me to bring the return of the sun to a kingdom long submersed in darkness. And to accomplish this without the support of those I love, and those who love me…even Gimli has returned to his kin, depriving me of the taunts and challenges that had turned to trust and friendship…
“I think perhaps not, Legolas. This is a season of happiness; we have both worked ceaselessly to bring a semblance of celebration to a people desperately in need of it. You have much to rejoice about, and yet you are melancholy.” Faramir pressed on. He did not say the remaining thoughts.
In all my years, I have never seen the like. I have seen the horrors of battle, heard the screams of the dying, felt the pain of the mortally wounded. Yet sorrow and abandonment pour from him like rain; he is bereft without those he calls “father” and “brother” and “friend”. Without those he loves. I would not have thought it; his people seem not so needy; aye, they fairly shout of courage and strength and independence. Yet he has formed bonds in his life that are not lightly broken, and he grieves now that those he loves are not with him during this holiday season. Would that I could bring him relief… He is missing his Ada…his companions…his former life, free from the taint of Sauron and his evils. He is missing his freedom, and chafing at the restrictions of being left here, with only me for company, and so many duties; so many responsibilities. He is but young, and has had little joy of late. He needs…but what is it he needs? What could I possibly provide? I am not Aragorn, to take him in hand and show him in no uncertain terms that he is loved, and cared for. I do not have the right… He despairs, this night; I can feel it. My senses reach for him, but cannot touch. Why did Aragorn leave me with this responsibility, with the care of one so dear to him? Ah, but he did. So I must needs fulfill his trust. I must, indeed, do as he would do; do as my beloved brother Boromir did for me. I must give strength, and comfort, and love…to one who has never seemed to need these things; has always been the epitome of courage and strength to those around him, no matter what the obstacles thrown in his way. I will not fail. I will not fail Aragorn, and I will not fail HIM.
Finally Legolas spoke quietly, as though to himself. “I know not what ails me. I have no thought for others; no care for their needs or desires. I feel only the need within myself, the need for love, the longing for one who will notice, who will care, who will wipe away my secret longings and fill my empty heart with song. I would sing again. I would forget the blood, and sorrow, and pain; I would laugh again. I would…yet I cannot.”
“Legolas.” Faramir’s voice rose quiet and firm from the darkness that seemed to surround him. “Come down from the parapet. I need to speak with you.”
“I have nothing to say to you, Faramir.” His voice, normally lilting and melodious, trembled slightly.
“That matters not. I have much to say to you. Much that Aragorn would say, were he here.”
“Do not speak to me of Aragorn!” He dropped to the floor and turned to confront the Steward. “Aragorn is NOT here. Aragorn has gone to the far reaches of the kingdom with Arwen, to secure the Marches and cement his alliances. He is not here, and YOU do not speak for him!”
Faramir responded calmly, “He is not here, but I do indeed speak for him, Legolas. I speak for the man who must be King first, and see to his kingdom. I speak for the man who owes you his life several times over, and who loves you as life itself. And I speak for myself, as one who sees the loneliness and longing in your eyes and echoes it within his own soul. I know what you are feeling, Legolas, and I would help you.”
“You do NOT know! You are not left abandoned now that the work is accomplished; cast aside to settle farmer’s disputes and determine luncheon menus! You are not surrounded day after day by arguing, petty fools and jealous councilors whose most urgent decision is how many desserts there should be at dinner! You do not…”
Faramir interrupted his tirade by stepping forward and placing both hands on the angrily shaking shoulders.
“Yes, I do. I know, and I am. Who do you think is sitting beside you day after day while they endlessly argue seating arrangements? Who decrees that Farmer Halfnog owes Farmer Pennythreat a hog for damages to his property?” His voice quavered slightly. “Who…who is left just as alone, just as bereft at this holiday season?” He thought of Eowyn, so far away in Rohan; and of Boromir, lost to him forever, and his eyes clouded with pain.
Legolas blushed with shame. It was true; Faramir had lost his family for good, while Legolas was only MISSING his. Faramir too was alone, and burdened with trivial administrative matters, and missing those he held dear.
“I…apologize, Lord Faramir. I should not have spoken to you like that.”
“No, Legolas, you should have spoken to me like that much sooner. Then we could have dealt with this matter before it became so painful for you. Still, better late than never…” Faramir sounded strangely like Aragorn now, and Legolas narrowed his eyes.
“What do you mean?” He asked bluntly.
“I mean, of course, that I intend to answer your needs, both spoken and unspoken, as our King and friend would wish me to do. As my brother often did for me. As one who loves and cares for another would do without hesitation. For I do love and care for you, my friend.” Faramir said softly.
Legolas’ eyes widened as he realized what the Steward meant. “You don’t…you can’t…Faramir, this is not proper! I am an elf of Mirkwood, and you…!”
“I am Aragorn’s representative here in Minas Tirith. While he is away, I am Steward, in charge of all in this kingdom that is his. And THAT includes you, sir.”
Legolas stared in disbelief as Faramir strode purposefully toward a nearby bench and seated himself.
“As you well know, I cannot force this Legolas. I can only rely on your sense of honor, of decency, of trust…in both Aragorn and myself. I know what you need, Legolas; I’ve needed it often enough myself. Let me show you that Aragorn is not the only one who cares; that you are truly not alone this Solstice.” His steady gaze held the elf’s eyes, drawing him step by step nearer until he stood at Faramir’s side.
“I…cannot, Faramir. It is not possible…”
“All is possible, Legolas. Some things are only slightly less probable. Surely you have noted that?”
A myriad of images flew through Legolas’ mind; of Aragorn spanking naughty hobbits, of himself spanking Faramir’s beloved older brother Boromir, of Aragorn with Faramir upturned over his knee…and finally of one very repentant elf across Aragorn’s lap…it would appear that most things were, truly, possible. He gulped.
“Aye.” He whispered. “Are you…are you sure?”
Faramir reached out a gentle hand. “I am sure, my elfling.” Deliberately using Aragorn’s term of endearment, he drew the unresisting Legolas over his lap. “I am sure.”
Legolas lay still, only his flushed face revealing his emotion as Faramir slipped his leggings down, exposing his bare bottom. This was not right; no man should be allowed to do this thing…then a sharp smack caught him unawares, and he sucked in a surprised breath. Sudden memories of being in this position over Aragorn’s lap assailed him as the patently hard hand of a ranger descended upon his tender flesh.
Several smacks later, his breathing growing somewhat labored in an effort to withhold all obvious reaction, the resemblance was increased as Faramir asked, “Why are you being spanked, my elfling?”
“Because you have delusions of superiority?” He gasped as the blows suddenly became impossibly harder and faster.
“Not quite. Try again, sir; and have a care if you wish to sit down again any time in the foreseeable future!”
Damn! The man had obviously spent too much time around Aragorn. It was becoming difficult to think.
“Because…because Aragorn would have done so!”
“True, he would. But why else?” A flurry of hard smacks landed in staccato upon his already blazing behind.
“Because…I was…OW!…Faramir, you have a heavy hand! Because I was allowing myself to feel unloved…OW!…and unneeded…OW!…and neglected…OWWWWWWW!”
“And are you any of those things?” Faramir turned his attention to the silky smooth upper thighs with some vigor.
“NO! Not….not….no…sorry, Faramir! I know you care…OW! And Aragorn cares…OW!…and….” he was gasping for breath now, as the man’s persistence made an obvious impression upon his seat. The loneliness, the abandonment, the fear that had built inside him these past weeks burst forth in one heartrending wail. Faramir slowed, but continued to spank the brick-red buttocks.
“You are not alone, my elfling. You are with me, and you are as safe with me as I am with you. Aragorn will return, and all will be well. Do you believe this now?”
“Y..y…yes, Faramir! Yes, I do!”
Faramir’s hand ceased it’s labors and began to rub the quivering back gently. He murmured soothingly, words he had heard Aragorn use time and again, and slowly Legolas began to relax. Faramir continued his ministrations; half-remembered words of comfort and love he had heard from Boromir flowed warm and reassuring; strong hands stroked and soothed until some composure had returned to the recipient of his attention. Legolas was eventually ready to rise, adjusting his leggings as he did so, and gazing with something akin to wonder into Faramir’s eyes.
“I would not have thought this of you, Faramir. The understanding, yes. The compassion, yes. But the strength…I underestimated you, my brother. I…am grateful.”
Faramir smiled, and held out a hand, which was quickly and firmly clasped. “I was not sure I had it in me myself, Legolas. But it is the Solstice, a time of love and understanding to be freely given and freely received. And at a time like this, when a friend has need, even the most highly improbable things can become possible…”