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Sophinisba Solis ([personal profile] sophinisba) wrote2006-05-29 08:20 am

Frodo/Faramir ficlet

Here is a set of six drabbles for [livejournal.com profile] aprilkat who, back in February, requested a drabble about Frodo and Faramir in Ithilien. Events from the book, but characterizations closer to the movie and contaminated by my own sordid imagination. Intended to be disturbing, though not graphic, PG-13 or so.

Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] claudia603 and [livejournal.com profile] danachan for beta and encouragement! I've been fiddling with these, as one fiddles with drabbles, so more errors are likely to have crept in and I'd really appreciate having them pointed out. Thanks!


Path to the Forbidden Pool

If Faramir is aware of Sam following them up the path to the ledge, he gives no sign. Frodo isn't surprised to hear the third set of footsteps. Sam never lets Frodo out of his sight these days, and Frodo gave up trying to keep any secrets from him long ago. Sometimes Frodo himself isn't aware of the movement of his own fingers, and only the anxious look from Sam tells him that he's given in, gone and touched it again. At night Frodo still turns his back, out of shame and habit, but he no longer pretends to hide.

Sometimes Sam takes Frodo's hands in his own, pulls them away from his throat. Frodo fights him, but it's a comfort to know Sam won't let him give in to the temptation when it really matters. And it matters now, for there's a new kind of temptation here, perhaps even more dangerous than the other. Warring with the desire for the Ring, familiar now is a strange desire to have it all done with, out of his hands. Faramir could do that for him, could overpower him any time he wants, and Frodo could not be blamed for the failure.

They step out into the moonlight (Sam lingers in darkness) and the pale circle reminds Frodo of a dream he's had too many times. A white face grinning down at him while bony fingers wrap around his throat, a caress without love or pity. And it is useless to try to pry the hands away, or roll both bodies over and crush the skull against the rock. Fading, relieved, he has no air to speak but he mouths the words "Thank you." He wakes twisting in Sam's arms, and when he's calmed he speaks his thanks, and hides his disappointment.

Frodo shivers because he is tired and cold and almost alone, not because he is afraid. Faramir has said no harm would come to them, and Frodo feels almost safe, physically. More than afraid he is impatient to see how it will end. He doesn't think he'll be killed for it. He might not even be hurt if he doesn't try to fight. He could simply hand it over, and not spend another day trudging through the wilderness, nor ever again hear that hissing whine at his ear. And the weight of the world would be gone from his shoulders.

He thinks he recognizes the look in Faramir's eyes: desire not to destroy, but to possess. And the Ring is not the only thing he wants. Would it be so bad? Frodo wonders. If I don't want it but I don't fight it, is it still rape? Is it still wrong? And what's to keep me from wanting it, or keep me from liking it, even if it isn't my choice? Surrender would mean the end of hope, yes, but also the end of the struggle. And it might not hurt at all, except that he would be hurting Sam.

That's why part of him wishes he and Faramir were truly alone, with no one else to judge their actions, no consequences beyond their own pleasures. He doesn't want to think of the absent friends (perhaps living, perhaps lost, perhaps dying or dead) who put their trust in him; he doesn't want Sam here to remind him he is not quite alone, and this is not quite the end. But Sam speaks softly, and Faramir answers calmly, without surprise, and the thrill of danger and temptation disappears. He knows Faramir will let him go, and the struggle will go on.