"Death has broken that bond, Eomer."
"I struggle with that knowledge. I struggle with my guilt, with my anger. I struggle with my loneliness. I am terribly lonely," he whispered. "I miss being held in the night. I long to - to ease this ache. And that also gives me cause to grieve afresh, for I feel as though even to think of loving someone else betrays Theodred's memory."
"Please forgive me," Imrahil leaned forward and laid his hands atop the desk. Dimly, he noted how they trembled. "I did not mean to cause you pain. Had I realized how much my words cut you, I would never have said what my heart felt."
"What your heart felt?" Eomer echoed the words, testing them, tasting them. "How does you heart know? What secrets does it whisper that I cannot hear? Tell me, Imrahil, how do you love someone on first sight? Is that possible?"
"On first sight? Nay, on first sight you were covered in Orc blood and the blood of Easterlings. Not until after the battle, as you stood beside your uncle's bier, with your shoulders stiffened with pride and grief did I see you. Not until King Elessar laid out his tactics for attacking Sauron's fortress did I see the wisdom in your eyes—wisdom that came from years beyond your years—and realized the nature of your strength. I saw the compassion and care for your sister, for your fallen comrades, even the way you mourned for those you did not know. I have born the brunt of your anger and been able to answer you without anger because I see whence that rage comes. I love you for the anger that simmers in your soul, not in spite of it."
"You offered me your heart."
"Because you are not a cruel man."
"You would trust me with it? Even though you know I love someone else?"
"He. Is. Gone." Imrahil emphasized each word separately. "Mourn him until the end of time, if you like, but he will not come back to you. Will you throw away a chance at loving again? Where is the courageous man I saw upon the Pelennor Field?"
"What if I cannot love you?"
"You won't even try."
Guilt washed over Eomer like the waves washed over the sands. He tried to rationalize, he tried to hold true to the memories of Theodred. He tried to tell himself what he was doing was wrong. He had no right to toy with Imrahil just to sooth his own loneliness. "Do you not fear that I will give in out of loneliness? Out of desperation?"
"That is my risk." Imrahil watched the internal struggle and felt his heart constrict. He knew how much Eomer hurt and he felt his own guilt as he knew he caused some of it. Was he being selfish? Did he push too hard to achieve his own ends from one who had recently suffered so much? Did he have that right? He stood up and came around the desk so that he could squat beside Eomer. "I am a selfish man," he admitted at last. "I long for your courage and your strength. I want to feel what it is like to brave the wildness that is in you. I fear, in my own greed, though, that I have hurt you. And I am so sorry, Eomer, for we should never harm those we profess to love."
"I believe that the worst of the storm is finally over," said Eomer as he glanced beyond Imrahil to the clearing sky.
Imrahil did not look around. "Is it?"
Eomer shifted and the chair creaked in the silence. Slowly, he lifted his hands to cup Imrahil's face. His thumbs traced over the tiny laugh lines around the prince's mouth and smoothed the thick mustache. They grazed over the sculpted cheekbones, finally touching on the corners of the almond shaped eyes. Gently, he lowered his head until his lips touched Imrahil's. The kiss was light, soft, sweet. He tested his feelings. He was not overwhelmed with guilt, as he feared he might be, so he pressed his lips harder against Imrahil's mouth. Beneath his lips, Imrahil's mouth opened, inviting him to drink more deeply. He slipped his tongue past Imrahil's lips, slid it along Imrahil's tongue, so that they moved slowly together.
Imrahil remained still, although he longed to reach out and clasp Eomer to him. He knew that, like a wild animal, Eomer would only be gentled, never tamed. He let the Eorling set the pace and followed where the king led.
Eomer broke the kiss and laid his forehead against Imrahil's. He craved the warmth that Imrahil offered. He needed it. As if understanding Eomer's thoughts, Imrahil at last raised his hands and glided them along the strong chest, ruffling the heavy tunic. Eomer moaned softly and closed his eyes.
Without hesitation, Imrahil thrust his hands inside the tunic, running his hands over the dark hairs on Eomer's chest. He felt Eomer's heart beating erratically beneath his palm and wondered at the wisdom of being so close with the wounds still fresh on Eomer’s soul. However, he needed this moment, and any more that may come his way. His heart knew that this wasn’t the time, but he silenced the nagging inner voice and focused instead on the pleasure of the soft chest hairs against his palm. The flat nipple puckered against his palm as he slid his hand over the broad chest, down over the flat plains of the warrior’s stomach. He felt his insides clench, felt the tightening of his loins, and his heart began to palpitate in time with his rising desire.
Eomer placed his hands on Imrahil’s shoulders and was amazed to feel how strong the elder man’s shoulders were. His slightness was deceptive and Eomer found himself leaning more and more against Imrahil, allowing the prince to support his entire weight. Together they tumbled to the floor with Eomer on top. They lay entwined, cramped together between the desk and the chair. Eomer rubbed himself against Imrahil’s hip, grinding his erection into the prince’s pelvis as his desire mounted beyond his control.
Imrahil felt the king’s rising desperation, but chose to ignore it. Rather, he sought a compromise between his need for slow, tender love-making and Eomer’s frantic need. He grasped Eomer’s buttocks in his strong hands and tried to hold the younger man still while he spread his legs so that Eomer could lay between his thighs.
Eomer lifted his head a fraction, and eyes closed, nuzzled along Imrahil’s throat. “Theodred.”
Imrahil gasped and tried not to tense, but he couldn’t help it. The
whispered name of the deceased lover was like an orc blade in his chest. He
chided himself. He had known Eomer wasn’t ready, yet he’d pushed
any way. He’d known the risks he was taking with his heart and still
he took it. He had no one to blame but himself. Still his anger and his pain
mixed and his desire quickly faded as his humiliation became complete. An
old fool was what he was.
Eomer felt Imrahil go still and heard the soft gasp. He realized too late what he’d whispered only moments ago and his faced colored red with shame. How could he have been so careless with his tongue and with the prince’s affections? He had tried to warn Imrahil, but that was not enough. He could not find any excuse for what he’d done. Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted his head and stared into pain filled eyes. “I am—“
“Shh,” Imrahil mustered a small smile that did not reach his eyes and only barely stretched his lips. “I knew you weren’t ready, but still I pushed you. It is I who should apologize for trying to make you into someone you are not.”
Eomer eased himself into a sitting position and placed his back against the side of the chair as Imrahil also sat up and leaned against the desk. “What do you mean?”
“I recently lost someone I loved, too, although he was long gone before his death.” Imrahil drew up his legs and laid his forearms over his knees. “Denethor left me a long time ago, although I always thought he’d come back. Of course, I did not know that he was enthralled by the Palantir at the time, nor could I foresee how he would perish. I am glad I was blind to all that went on, or else I might have tried something foolish. Even more foolish than this.”
Eomer’s dark eyes filled with compassion. He had no idea that Imrahil, too, was recovering from such deep wounds. In a way, he wished he had known.
“That’s in the past.” Imrahil lifted his eyes to Eomer. “I have work to do, my lord. I am certain, however, that Lothiriel will be more than happy to entertain you for a while. I will see you again at the midday meal.”
Eomer knew he’d been dismissed and he wanted
to protest, but he couldn’t find the voice to do so. Silently, just
as in earlier that morning, he left Imrahil’s company. This time, however,
he wondered if it were for the last time.
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