Eomer sat in his tent wearing only light breeches and a tunic of unbleached linen. His armor lay on the floor with his outer clothes scattered around as though haphazardly discarded. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the muscles creak and blew out a frustrated breath. After a light meal in Aragorn's tent, there had been a discussion regarding how best to divide what few—too few—troops they possessed. In the end, they agreed to send some men to Ithilien and take the remainder to Mordor. Whether or not they could buy the Halfling bearing Isildur's Bane any time, or if there remained any time left to buy, was anyone's guess.
The weeks and months blurred in Eomer's memory until he felt as though he were living in one long nightmare. First, the death of his cousin at the Ford of Isen, then the death of his King, and injury to his sister that had left her near death, and now the weight of all Middle Earth seemed to be resting upon the shoulders of a battle hardened, but pitiably small army. At only twenty-eight, Eomer felt as though he were much, much older.
"My Lord?" A tall blonde with a thick mustache stuck his head through the tent flap. His eyes were bright blue and crinkled at the corners.
"Come," Eomer said with a grim smile. To have Elfhelm call him by his newly acquired title still made him uncomfortable, but he was learning. "Is everything in readiness?"
Elfhelm nodded as he stood before Eomer. The Marshal of Eastmark, as his new title named him, was taking some of the Rohirrim to Ithilien. "We will leave out at moon set. Lord?"
"Please, Elfhelm, we are alone. Call me Eomer." The king rubbed his face with both hands and winced as the tension in his shoulders sent pain lancing up his neck.
"I was going to say you looked tired and that you should rest," Elfhelm dropped his helm on the ground and knelt in front of Eomer, a liberty few would have dared. He pulled Eomer's hands away from his face. "The Rohirrim have faced worse in the last months; we shall face this with pride and dignity…and, yes, even hope."
Eomer thought back to the words he'd said only a few short weeks ago to another Marshal, Dúnhere. He had told the chieftain of Harrowdale that he had found hope after the battle of the Hornburg and he wondered now whither that hope had fled. "Aye, Elfhelm, you remind me of something I said to a friend not long before we took the Pelennor Field. I see no hope, yet I look around and see men with courage unequalled and think to myself that they do not despair. So why do I?"
Laying his hand on Eomer's shoulder, Elfhelm stared deeply into his king's eyes. "You feel the weight of responsibility, for in you—and Lord Aragorn—rest the fates of all men. Nevertheless, you do not need to despair, for we know what we face and face our doom willingly. I would rather fall in battle at your side than live in hiding and fear, knowing that we did nothing to stop the enemy."
For the first time in days, Eomer felt some of the tension drain from his body. All that Elfhelm had said was true. He feared failure; he feared the loss of life that would surely come and he feared the fate of their people if they could not drive back Mordor's plague. "Thank you," he said simply, his gratitude shining in his dark eyes.
"Your shoulders are tense. May I?" Elfhelm dismissed his liege's gratitude and rose to his feet and hesitated but a moment before stepping behind Eomer and placing his strong hands on Eomer's shoulders. He could feel the knotted muscles and the heat radiating from them. Too long had his lord been in the saddle and wielding sword and shield.
At the first touch of Elfhelm's hands on his neck, Eomer flinched and bit his lip. Deft fingers dug at the knots along his shoulder blades and neck and pain stabbed even more sharply than before.
"Relax." Elfhelm commanded as he pulled the king back against him and continued to minister to the strained shoulders. His hands worked at each knot, feeling each time Eomer flinched when he encountered a particularly tender spot. Blond hair spilled over his hands and tickled his wrists. He shifted his stance, moving so that his hips did not encounter Eomer's back lest the king feel his desire beneath his leggings.
Sighing contentedly, Eomer gave himself over completely to Elfhelm's care. The pain gradually decreased as he relaxed. Hands slid over his shoulders, massaging lightly over his collarbones, before slipping along his shoulders and upper arms. Eomer laid his head back, resting it lightly on the crook of Elfhelm's arm and closed his eyes.
Elfhelm ran one hand forward, caressing the front of Eomer's shoulder. Eomer reached up and clasped the hand before it could return to his neck and pushed it lower, along his chest. Elfhelm did not hesitate as he smoothed light circles over Eomer's chest, feeling the hairs beneath the light linen tunic. Eomer kissed the inside of his forearm and Elfhelm smiled to himself as he slipped his hand inside the fabric and splayed his hand wide.
His hand brushed over a flat nipple that instantly puckered at his touch. He moved his hand lower, over Eomer's belly, briefly circling the small indention of his navel. Then he leaned down and kissed the king's ear, moving his lips to kiss his jaw and then his cheek. Eomer turned his head and Elfhelm pressed their lips together. Eomer's lips parted and Elfhelm slipped his tongue inside, sliding his tongue over Eomer's in a slow, sensual dance. Once they were both breathless, he moved away from his king and came to kneel before him. Parting Eomer's legs, he placed himself between his thighs and moved his hand beneath the tunic.
Looking down at Elfhelm, Eomer was struck by the marshal's beauty. The blond hair was pulled back from the high forehead and secured with a clip. The full lips peeked shyly from beneath his thick mustache and were ready with a quick smile or a stern frown. Reaching down his hand, Eomer traced Elfhelm's lips, pressing his thumb between them and into the marshal's mouth. Elfhelm sucked greedily on the digit as his hand moved up over Eomer's stomach and chest, searching for the tender nipples nestled in the golden curls. He guided his palms over them, smoothing them over and then pinching them lightly. Eomer withdrew his finger from Elfhelm's mouth and moved it to his hair, trailing the locks through his fingers, feeling the texture of the fine strands. Elfhelm leaned forward and placed his face against Eomer's crotch, nuzzling the bulge between his thighs through the leggings.
Eomer sighed and shifted, pushing Elfhelm firmly against him. The cloth grew warm and damp from the marshal's breath and it clung to Eomer's erection. His own head tilted back as Elfhelm sucked him through the fabric, his tongue running up and down the length of his shaft and pushing against his balls.
After a few minutes, Elfhelm straightened and tugged hesitantly at his armor's buckles, as if waiting for Eomer's permission. Eomer took Elfhelm's face between his hands and kissed the marshal deeply before helping him unbuckle his cuirass. When the last buckle was removed, Eomer helped Elfhelm from the heavy leather and placed it to the side. Elfhelm removed his shirt and tossed it carelessly away.
"Stand up," Eomer ordered as he scooted forward on his stool. Elfhelm complied and Eomer set to work on his boots. They were tossed more carelessly aside than the armor, as Eomer grew more impatient to see Elfhelm naked before him. The leather thongs lacing the leggings was quickly dispatched and Eomer pulled open the material to expose a rigidly erect cock surrounded by dark curls bobbing inches from his lips. The leggings slithered over Elfhelm's hips and pooled at his feet and he stepped out of them. Standing before Eomer, he allowed his king to gaze at his flesh, feeling at once blessed and self-satisfied; blessed for it was he to whom his lord turned and self-satisfied that he was able to give the king what others could not or would not.
Slowly Eomer leaned forward and engulfed Elfhelm's hips with his arms, and opening his lips wide, took the marshal deeply into his mouth. Elfhelm's fingers twined in his hair and his hips rocked forward as Eomer hungrily sucked at his cock, pressing his nose against the damp curls. Elfhelm watched as Eomer's cheeks hollowed and puffed in time to the increasing and decreasing pressure on his cock. One hand continued to stroke Eomer's hair, while the other moved down and caressed is back.
Eomer raised his head and kissed Elfhelm along his hips, up to his lower belly, pausing only long enough to dip his tongue into the marshal's navel. Heavily lidded eyes gazed down at him and he felt an overwhelming sense of desire for Elfhelm that was more than physical. Truthfully, he could have his pick of men or women, but Elfhelm was different for he was equal in stature, though not status. The noble warrior had chosen to come to Eomer, unasked and unlooked for, and for that, Eomer was grateful. Rising gracefully to his feet, Eomer stood before Elfhelm and covered his face in light kisses. He murmured endearments against Elfhelm's ears and heard pleasured sighs for an answer.
Taking off his shirt, Eomer allowed Elfhelm free reign to kiss and touch where he would. Not surprisingly, Elfhelm kissed a trail down Eomer's stomach to his hips and slowly, as though handling a precious object, unlaced Eomer's leggings. With the weeping cock exposed before him, Elfhelm looked up at his liege.
"Will you take me?" He asked quietly, with one hand wrapped around Eomer's length.
Eomer ran his fingers lightly over Elfhelm's jaw. "Is that what you want or what you think I want?"
"It is what I want," Elfhelm instantly replied.
Eomer felt a tightening in his groin and he licked his dry lips. "If you are sure."
Elfhelm did not reply, but set to work on coating Eomer's cock with his saliva. He worked slowly, easily taking all of the heavy length into his mouth. He danced his tongue over the sensitive underside before drawing away and licking the tip. The cock twitched in his hand as he circled the swollen head with his tongue before sliding it back into his mouth.
"If you keep that up, I shall be undone," hissed Eomer as Elfhelm swallowed deeply several times.
Elfhelm chuckled and the vibrations traveled through Eomer's cock, through his tight sac and up his spine. He shivered. Elfhelm pulled away, however, not before placing a kiss on the head of Eomer's cock, and scooted backwards. He turned over on to his hands and knees, exposing his puckered opening for his king.
Stepping out of his breeches, Eomer then knelt behind Elfhelm, and stroked his buttocks and kissed up his spine. Then, he pushed Elfhelm onto his back, saying. "I want to see you."
Elfhelm spread his legs as Eomer moved between his thighs. He moaned softly as his king leaned forward and dropped kisses along his abdomen and chest. He felt Eomer's cock nudge his tight hole and spread his legs wider.
Rising up, Eomer placed the marshal's legs over his shoulders and slowly pushed his way past the protective muscle until, inch by inch, he was completely sheathed inside Elfhelm's heat. He leaned forward, grasped Elfhelm's hands, and held them still while he began to slowly move in and out of the tight passage. He kissed Elfhelm deeply, imprisoning the other's lips with his own, as he shifted angles, searching for the sensitive spot that would send his marshal soaring.
Elfhelm grasped Eomer's hands in a death grip as his opening was stretched beyond endurance. Though Eomer was slow and gentle, the pain and burning were still intense enough that Elfhelm had to struggle for breath. Then Eomer brushed over the sensitive nub and Elfhelm arched his back, his leg muscles straining, as he gasped with surprised pleasure. He tried to force Eomer to hurry, to pummel him harder, but the king maintained his slow, steady pace. Elfhelm thrashed and bucked and sank his teeth into the king's shoulder.
Eomer refused to be hurried as he slid his cock out of Elfhelm's body and then deliberately slid back in again. He wanted to enjoy the feel of the tight heat surrounding him. He wanted to enjoy the build up of pleasure and prolong it until he thought he might go mad from it. And so, he gritted his teeth and kept his rhythm for as long as he could. Sweat dampened his hair, slicked his back, and coated his chest. Beneath him, Elfhelm continued to writhe and wriggle and his engorged cock slapped against his belly with each thrust. Pre-cum dripped from the head and pooled on his sweat-covered skin.
"I need," he cried out. "Please."
At last Eomer could hold back no longer and increased his pace until he slammed so hard in and out of Elfhelm that they both scooted across the rug. Elfhelm's legs were locked behind Eomer's shoulders and his buttocks arched from the ground while his mouth remained open as he gasped out his pleasure. Eomer reached between their bodies and wrapped his fist around Elfhelm's cock and stroked it from base to tip. That was all Elfhelm needed and his whole body went rigid as cum shot from his cock and splattered his chest and Eomer's fist. Muscles clinched around his cock and Eomer shuddered as his own release spilled deeply into Elfhelm's body. He smothered their cries in a deep kiss as they climaxed in unison. When his body was finally spent, he collapsed atop his marshal and lay panting and shaking with aftershock. He could feel Elfhelm do the same as his cock softened and slipped from the puckered opening.
At moonrise, Eomer stirred and looked down at the sleeping marshal. Once more, he would be separated from a lover. He wondered if it would ever end, the constant uncertainty, the unendurable losses, the constant pain. Gently, he shook Elfhelm awake and when the marshal opened his eyes, covered his mouth in a searing kiss.
Elfhelm met Eomer's troubled gaze and smiled jauntily. He displayed far more optimism than he felt. "I shall see you at the gates of Mordor, my liege."
Eomer took a deep breath and offered an answering smile.