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Treacherous Trust

Title: Treacherous Trust
Pairing: Faramir/Gríma
Rating: R
Warning: character death
Genre: Dark fic, Slash


"Ever have I indulged you, little brother. Ever have I protected you from father's wrath and indifference, but this I will not allow. I forbid it!"

Faramir bristled at his brother's words, echoing as they did Denethor's earlier rant. Why could they not see he would not be swayed? Why did they think he could be turned from his path by their disapproval?

"You cannot forbid me from seeking in the arms of another what you and father incestuously share!" Faramir shot back, both gratified and guilt-stung by the look in Boromir's eyes.

"Do you think I have protected you all these years through words alone?" Boromir said, grieved. "What you perceive as just another of father's slights has been bane to my soul since my eighth year, as you well know, and has nothing to do with the foolish decision you would make. The man is suspect, even among his own people, Faramir. His counsel is unwise, if not evil. All I ask is that you wait a few months. Wait until this business is over and he has returned to his homeland. If your thoughts of him wane after his parting then you must see this is not right. But if after he has gone you still feel as you do now, I myself will accompany you to Rohan. We will fetch him back or you can remain there as you choose, and father be damned!"

Faramir, his eyes filled with tears, stepped forward and caught his brother in a tight embrace. Boromir hugged him back as tightly, relief flooding his breast.

"My brother," Faramir said, "my friend, my only ally and protector... I cannot do as you ask."

Boromir gasped and pushed Faramir away roughly, not recognizing his beloved brother in the hard-set determination he saw on the face before him. He had never seen Faramir so bold, so decisive, so near obsession. His own face hardened in response, his green eyes glittering, hard as jade.

"This will not be. I have posted a guard at his door to keep you from going to him tonight. I will post a guard at yours if I have to!" and he turned on his heel and stalked off.

Faramir watched him go, his mouth set in a grim line. "We shall see, brother." he growled, and headed for his rooms, feeling as though he'd been kicked by two strong, angry mules.

At dinner that eve, the company was strained. The Gondorians each tried to outdo the others in politeness to their guests, while barely passing two words amongst themselves. Faramir sat next to Boromir while Denethor and Éomer sat at the ends of the table. Gríma sat beside Éomer, pointedly avoiding Denethor's eye while casting surreptitious glances at Faramir. Though Éomer did not fully understand the meaning of the interplay, that it had something to do with Gríma was clear enough.

After an interminable meal of terse smiles and false politeness, Éomer finally had enough. He excused himself and stood, motioning for Gríma to follow, but the counselor just shook his head.

"I will join you after dessert." he said, smiling at Faramir. "The company is so pleasant this eve I find myself reluctant to depart."

All except Faramir glared at him, their eyes filled with revulsion, but Éomer only gave a small bow to the Steward and took his leave, shaking his head in bewilderment.

The dessert was served almost immediately following Gríma's remark. Faramir called for wine and Gríma called a toast to the health of the family of Gondor. All drank and then finally, thankfully, the meal was over.

Faramir waited fretfully until the candle upon his table had burned to the fourth mark before slipping from his rooms. He approached Gríma's door, trying to quell the nervous flutter of his stomach. The guards Boromir had posted were nowhere to be seen. Faramir smiled and knocked lightly on the door. It was opened at once by Gríma, who greeted his lover with a kiss.

'Wormtongue indeed', Faramir smiled inwardly as they parted.

"We must away at once." Gríma whispered.

Faramir nodded and the two set off down the hall at a moderately swift pace. As they approached Denethor's door, Faramir hesitated and Gríma tried to pull him on.

"Come Faramir, there is no time." he hissed urgently.

"I must say good bye to my brother." Faramir insisted, pulling his arm away and opening the door.

The bedchamber was nearly black within but once Faramir's eyes adjusted he found the moonlight streaming through the window was more than enough to see. Moving quietly he approached the bed and beheld the two figures there. His father and brother, their bodies entwined in incestuous repose brought a tear to Faramir's eye.

"How I loved you Boromir." he whispered. "I know you loved me also, but you were father's favorite and there was never a place for me, stuck as I was between the two of you. I don't think you believed I also could find love, and when I did it drove you mad with jealousy." He sighed and reached out to stroke Boromir's hair. "Sleep well with your love, brother, as I shall sleep ever with mine."

He slipped from the room, leaving Boromir and Denethor's lifeless bodies lying pale and cold in the moonlight. Gríma had been right. 'Never poison the wine', he had said, 'poison the cups.'

"And to think, Boromir thought your counsel unwise." Faramir smiled to himself as he joined his waiting lover.




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