The long road back from Mordor was filled with mingled joy and relief and, in some parts, grief. Lives were lost, even if the enemy was defeated. More Rohirrim would lay scattered in the soil far from their homes. But those homes were now safe and that lightened the burden of Eomer’s heart. At least some of it. In a small corner of his heart a captain named Faramir had taken up residence. And the space he occupied grew larger every hour. Every minute. Reason was crowded out, as was logic, and even compassion for his sister, who’d obviously fallen in love with the Gondorian. But so had he.
The closer the surviving troops got to Minas Tirith, the thicker the waiting crowds became. They lined the road and fields. They cheered, but the sound was solemn; they could count and knew that the flower of manhood lay behind the returning soldiers. They watched for familiar faces and when they failed to find them, tears mingled with their cheers.
At Minas Tirith, the crowds were thickest. Those who’d survived in the Houses of Healing lined the walls. The women and children stood before the city walls, and crowded the ruined city gates. Eomer had eyes only for the parapets, scanning the high walls for some sign of the ginger haired man who’d managed to wiggle his into long guarded thoughts.
On the walls, Faramir stood tall, hiding his loneliness behind a mask of joy. The army that should have been led by his brother, or even himself, returned behind the lead of the new king, the crown returned. He did not begrudge Aragorn, only regretted that this moment had come at the cost of his father and brother and that he’d not been deemed well enough to take part. As they days passed, he’d heard nothing of the army’s movements and, like Eowyn, watched from the ramparts every day for some sign of how the battle went. But part of Faramir’s mind was focused on a certain Horse Lord, a tall, golden haired warrior with a permanent scowl and eyes the color of rich soil. Try as he might, he could not erase that face from his mind or his heart.
“There,” Eowyn cried and her finger extended over the parapet. “My brother’s banner.”
Faramir gave his friend a relieved hug, as glad for her as for himself. “It is over, then. They return in victory and both Rohan and Minas Tirith will crown kings ‘fore the winter sets in.”
Eowyn’s face was alight with joy and her eyes sparkled. “Tis not what Eomer wished, but it what must be done now.”
“A new age as begun, Eowny.” Faramir once more turned his eyes toward the column making its way toward the gates.
Eowyn gave Faramir a side long glance. “I hope so.”
“Your brother will make a good king, I’m sure,” Faramir said as his gaze followed the line of dust settling around the riders. “From all that you have told me of him, his strength will see Rohan through.”
“As will yours, my lord. You may find that Eomer has hidden skills and strengths that have yet been revealed. You and he have much in common, I think. You are both strong and, yet, have a gentle side. You both love your people, even beyond care for yourselves. In some ways, you remind me of him.”
Faramir looked down at his feet, suddenly uncomfortable. “Eowyn, we have become good friends of late and I treasure you beyond any other.”
“As I treasure your, my lord.”
“With our victory, things may become rather tangled. I fear--”
“Let us not speak any more of it, my lord. Look, my brother is riding through the gate. While Lord Aragorn leads the troops, he is not yet king. It is you who should welcome the troops back to Minas Tirith.”
*~*
Eomer paced from one end of the small cubicle to the next, each step ringing on the stones. He’d counted the paces from wall to wall, exactly four of his strides. At each turn, he stared at the wall as if it was an orc trespassing in the Golden Hall, before spinning on his heel and taking four ground-eating strides to the opposite wall. His feelings were in turmoil and he’d tried to gain control of them, tuck them away in a small space, much like the cell where he paced. After seeing Faramir as he rode into Minas Tirith, Eomer’s feelings were in an even greater turmoil. The meeting, of course, had been brief and Eowyn had also come, leaving Eomer feeling awkward as he tried not to let his burgeoning feelings for Faramir show.
“Hello?”
Eomer froze and blinked at the wall.
“Is anyone there?”
Eomer clenched his jaw and fists. He knew the voice. He dreamed about it, soft and gentle with a hint of tempered steel. A foot scraped outside the opening and he knew that Faramir was moving away. “Come in,” he said.
The gold-red head appeared and Faramir studied the tense Rohirrim. “If I am disturbing you I can return another time.”
“No,” Eomer spun and pinned Faramir with his ferocious stare. “We should talk.”
Faramir nodded and fully entered the room. He wore simple clothes, dark tunic and leggings and soft boots, not the clothing of a man who would soon assume the position of Prince. “About Eowyn.”
“What are your intentions?” Eomer sat down on a stool and waved his hand toward one for his guest.
“I have none.” Faramir said reluctantly. “I mean, none that are not honorable.”
“Of course,” Eomer planed his fists on his thighs. “I had not meant to suggest anything else. You have come seeking her hand?”
Faramir looked at his hands laced in his lap. He didn’t know how to express the confused emotions in his heart. He liked Eowyn, as a sister that he’d never had. But it was Eomer who haunted his dreams and made him long to reach beneath the covers and relieve his aching loins. “The alliance would be good for both kingdoms.”
“If you do not love her, then alliance or no, she will suffer. I will not see her a pawn. She deserves much more.”
“You are right, of course,” Faramir agreed. “She is special to me.”
“Special. You do not love Eowyn. Then why? Do not tell me it’s politics.” Eomer’s hand came up and he slashed the air. “I will not give her to you if that is the case.”
Faramir lifted his eyes and met Eomer’s harsh gaze. “Forgive me, your highness, I have no intention of giving false pretenses to you concerning your sister. I cannot lay claim that I love her with all my heart, but I can swear to you that she would never suffer at my hands.”
“Of that I am sure,” Eomer spoke less vehemently. “Your gentleness is what attracts me.”
“My lord?”
Eomer colored to the roots of his dark hair. “Why I believe you would be a good match for my sister, if you loved her.” He forced his eyes to fix on Faramir’s face and ignored the growing heat on his cheeks.
Tilting his head to the side, Faramir studied the Horse Lord. “I preferred your first answer, I think. Do not be fooled into thinking that I am weak because I understand gentleness. I can be fierce. Despite everything that has happened, I am still strong.”
“That is my hope,” Eomer leaned forward and his expression grew intense. In a moment, he‘d made a decision that would effect far more than Eowyn‘s life and have far more lasting consequences. “Are you strong enough to hear what I would say to you?”
Faramir’s chin raised and set in a stubborn line that would have made his brother laugh. “Say what you will, King of the Horse Lords.”
“I love you.”
Faramir blinked and drew in his breath. “So quickly has the tide turned. I desired this and yet now that I sit before you, my breath is stolen and my thoughts are scattered.”
Eomer’s put out his hand and brushed softly at Faramir’s cheek. “Do you mean that you hoped?”
“I dared no such thing as hope. I desired in my heart and longed with my body. But hope? No. I could not risk a broken heart.”
Flattening out his hand, Eomer cupped Faramir’s face and stroked his thumb over the fine bones. “There is no risk to you.”
Leaning forward, Faramir closed the space between himself and Eomer. His lips brushed Eomer’s. He held his position, waiting to see what Eomer would do.
The warm lips against his own sent thrills along Eomer’s spine and he parted his lips expectantly. When it came, it was a complete shock. The kiss was gentle and demanding. Faramir’s tongue slipped into his mouth and slithered over the side of his tongue and out again almost before he realized it. Strong white teeth bit his full bottom lip and held it firmly while a wicked tongue danced along the rim. Beard scratched his chin. And when he thought it could not become more sensuous, Eomer was again surprised when Faramir cupped his head and forced his lips open once more. This time their teeth clashed together as Faramir’s tongue forced its way into his mouth and aggressively assaulted his own. Eomer breathed in and with it, he breathed in Faramir’s taste and scent. He groaned.
Faramir placed his head against Eomer’s temple and inhaled deeply. “I love the scent of you. For days after you left my room, I could still smell your scent. I was like a hound chasing quail, my nose all a-twitch, seeking out the last traces of you.”
Eomer put his hands on Faramir’s waist and placed his face in the crook of his neck. The curly locks tickled his skin and he touched his lips to Faramir’s neck, tasting the salt of him. His tongue lapped at the tender space behind Faramir’s ear and Eomer felt his shiver. “The taste of you on my tongue is sweeter than any wine I have ever drunk.”
“I would have all of you, Eomer and give you all of myself you care to possess.” Faramir spoke as he kissed the long of Eomer’s jaw.
“I will possess all you have to give me, all that you are.” Eomer pushed his hands beneath the dark tunic and found the firm abdomen and fine hairs trailing along the center. His calloused-roughened palms pushed higher and his fingers located Faramir’s nipples. He rubbed them with his thumbs. For his reward, Faramir’s teeth sank into his neck and he growled low in his throat.
With trembling hands, Faramir tugged at Eomer’s tunic, loosening the top laces. He kissed a trail over Eomer’s throat and lapped at the hollow of his collarbone. The rough fingers pinching and soothing his nipples made him ache and he longed to rub his erection against Eomer. Climbing off his stool, he stood between Eomer’s legs bending his head to continue kissing the strong throat and caressing the broad shoulders.
Eomer placed his hands on Faramir’s bottom and squeezed the firm globes and pulled him closer so that their groins touched. He looked up and met Faramir’s gaze. An unspoken signal leapt between them and both men moved as one to the stone floor. Eomer pulled Faramir on top of him, forcing their erections together so that they pressed harder and harder against one another, increasing the friction of cloth on aching flesh. He wrapped his legs around Faramir’s waist and held him closer. Once more their lips met and their tongues glided over one another. Eomer’s body strained against Faramir’s
Faramir broke the kiss and buried his head against Eomer’s neck. He sucked the throbbing artery and bit it gently, leaving a pale blue bruise behind and he moved his head lower. His hips worked independently of the rest of his body, rubbing harder against Eomer. Reaching between them, he stroked over the bulge in Eomer’s leggings.
“Yes,” Eomer’s back arched into the caress. “Touch me.”
Hoisting himself onto his knees, Faramir made quick work of the lacings and released the thick cock into his waiting palm. He stroked it several times, feeling the way it twitched in his palm, the sticky cream seeping from the head coated his fingers. “So hot,” he was unaware that he spoke his musings aloud.
Eomer bared his teeth in a smile. His touched Faramir’s leggings and felt the throbbing muscle beneath the fabric. At Faramir’s nod, he pulled the laces and opened the material so that the cock sprang free and bobbed gently against his wrist. He wrapped his fist around it and stroked it, matching time to Faramir’s hand.
Leaning down again, Faramir began kissing Eomer while their hands pumped in unison. Their moans and pants echoed around the stone room. Eomer felt each twitch and throb of Faramir’s cock and knew that Faramir could also feel his own. He locked his ankles behind Faramir’s thighs and arched his back. His throat and neck was raw from the scratch of Faramir’s beard. Faramir’s throat was bruised where Eomer had bitten it. His body grew tense and his throat muscles strained as he tried to stifle his moans.
“I cannot wait any more,” grunted Faramir and his seed suddenly spilled over Eomer’s hands.
Eomer continued to stroke Faramir, his palm slick with semen. His hips ground against Faramir’s hand and his breathing hitched in his throat as he, too, reached climax. They lay panting in each other’s arms.
In the corridor, Eowyn bit her lower lips as she turned away. She crept quickly and lightly down the hall. A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she tried to curb the joyous laughter that threatened to spill from her. Her plan had worked to perfection. She’d known, from the moment of meeting Captain Faramir, that he was the just the gentle but passionate soul her brother needed. It had been difficult to lay her plans in the Houses of Healing. Every waking moment had been spent going over each of her brother’s traits, painting them in the best light she could manage. Sometimes, she feared she’d overestimated Faramir’s interest in her brother, but he always came back for more. And while she enjoyed Faramir’s company, he did not hold her heart the way he held Eomer’s. Eowyn stepped from the hallway into a courtyard and her laughter, too long suppressed, bubbled forth. “A new age indeed,” she said to the evening sun.