"I must return to my people, Aragorn,"
Eomer stared straight ahead, his eyes focused on nothing. He could feel Aragorn's
confusion, but did not acknowledge it. "I have tarried here too long."
Their voices echoed in the large reception hall. At one end was a long table
covered with scrolls and papers. At the other end were several chairs in a
half-circle for quiet conversation. In between the two ends was nothing but
a long expanse of red carpet.
Aragorn shared a long look with Legolas, who stood just behind and to the
right. Eomer had not even glanced at the Prince of Mirkwood, nor did he respond
but with the barest commentary to anything Legolas had to say. Legolas found
the Man's rudeness annoying, but mostly, he just found it puzzling. He could
not think of anything he might have done or said that could have given offense,
yet the Man gave every indication of being just that.
The King of Gondor laid his hand upon Eomer's shoulder. "Will you not share your troubles, my friend?"
"All the lands and peoples of Middle Earth have suffered. Yet our mutual enemy is defeated and in time, the lands and peoples will heal. In this let us celebrate, let us rejoice, for we have defeated the evil of the east." Legolas dared to intrude where he was obviously not wanted.
"Legolas is right, my friend. We have weddings to celebrate, and not only mine to Arwen. But your sister to Faramir."
Eomer's back had gone rigid when Legolas spoke and, as Aragorn continued the Elf's train of thought, his face grew stormy as well. "There is much work to be done if the peoples of Middle Earth are to survive. Famine follows war, King of Gondor. Disease follows famine. My people face many years of deprivation. I would go to them and be with them now, for they need to know that they are not abandoned."
Aragorn's eyes lit with inner fire and he tilted his head to the side, studying Eomer. "All the more reason to celebrate, Eomer, for the people need this. They need to see weddings and coronations. They need to hear songs and to sing songs. They need laughter."
Eomer bowed. "I concede to your wishes, Aragorn. If you will excuse me, I have my men to see to." He turned to leave, but Aragorn prevented him.
"Is this about Eowyn and Faramir? Because if it is.."
"Eowyn proved her value as a warrior against the Nazgul. She is shield maiden of Rohan and has earned her right to chose whom she will. I will not gainsay her decision."
Aragorn gave in and stepped aside. Obviously Eomer would not reveal what troubled his heart. And whatever offense, either real or imagined, that Legolas had given; Eomer intended that should remain secret as well. "We will see you at dinner?"
Eomer inclined his head. "Of course." He stalked away without looking back, leaving a subdued King and Elf in his wake.
"Aragorn, I cannot imagine what I have done that offends the King of the Mark so," Legolas turned away from the retreating figure.
"Nor can I, my friend. Until he chooses to speak, we will not know. Come, we have much to do before this eve's festivities." He led Legolas in the opposite direction.
As soon as Eomer left the hall, he collided with Eowyn. She'd been outside, walking the walls, as was her custom since her injury. She and Faramir spent long afternoons there, together, staring out over the plains. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled with mirth and good health. He rejoiced at seeing her recovered, or nearly so, from the terrible blow she'd received from the Nazgul. "You look well, Eowyn." Eomer kissed her lightly on the cheek. "The sunshine and company serve you well."
Eowyn linked her arm through her brother's. "I feel better with each passing day. What concerns me now, is you. Will you not share your grief, Eomer?"
"Share? Eowyn, you and I all ready share a grief. I did not wish to be king. Yet, here I am, in Théoden's place. Theodred, who should have been King, lies buried next to his father. Our people are scattered. Widows and orphans have been made of many. My grief is a not public thing, I've no need to share." He breathed deeply and felt the cool air rush into his lungs, acting like a balm that cleared his mind.
"Tis not the grief closest to your heart. You have not been the same since The Hornburg, brother. Something besides the making of widows and orphans sears your heart."
Eomer paused and watched as Faramir slowly made his way over to them. "You should be concerned with the upcoming ceremony. Look at him. See the way he watches you? He worries for you as you worry for me. Yet, there is no need for anyone to worry. Go." He clasped Eowyn to him and then pushed her gently towards Faramir.
But Faramir had other ideas. He nodded to Eowyn and murmured as he passed her. "I will join you later, Eowyn. I have something to discuss with your brother." When Eowyn gave him an unhappy frown, he smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. "Nay, shield maiden, he and I are not enemies. How could we, for we share a love of the most beautiful woman in all of Middle Earth?"
Eowyn's face flamed bright red as she fled inside to the hall.
"Walk with me, Eomer of the Rohirrim?" Faramir fell in to step next to Eomer. His easy going ways were in direct contrast to his brother, Boromir. He was the one who thought before he acted. Unlike Boromir, he had been able to release the Ring Bearer. "Eowyn and I are both worried about you."
Eomer lost his patience and snapped at his future bother-in-law. "Why is it that my welfare is suddenly everyone's concern? I am a King, not an infant. I have not the desire to be coddled, as my uncle was coddled. I have responsibilities. Why is it that no one understands? What do I have to do to make you people understand? All I want to do is to go home." The last word was accompanied by an unmanly sheen of tears glittering in his deep brown eyes. He took a deep breath and held it, looking away from Faramir.
"I understand that you are under a lot of pressure. I only thought to help," Faramir quietly answered. "I, too, have lost a brother and a father. I too, assume a responsibility that I never expected. My brother should have been Steward to the King of Gondor, not I. We share more than a love of Eowyn. I only wished for you to know that I was here, if you needed someone with whom to talk."
Eomer felt shamed by his outburst and his display of emotion. Men of the Mark were fierce. They were loyal. They were strong. They did not fall in love with Elves. They did not fall in love with male Elves. They did not nearly burst in to tears in front of their sister's husband. "I apologize, Faramir. I know you, too, lost much in this. My wounds are too fresh for me to talk about. I feel adrift and lost and I cannot find my way while I sit here in Gondor. I need to be home. I need to ride on the grassy plains. I need to kneel at the grave of my uncle and cousin. I need to understand how I am king. How the," He caught himself just in time. "How the world changed in only a turning of a season," he amended.
Faramir's auburn head tilted in understanding. "There are some who have remarked that your ire increases in the presence of Elves and that you resent their presence at Helm's Deep." He held up a placating palm. "Nay, Eomer, I do not criticize. I only repeat the rumors circulating around the White City."
"I do not resent the Lothlorien Elves being at The Hornburg. Without Ha-Haldir and his people, the Mark would be no more." He spoke Haldir's name aloud to another for the first time in his life and it felt strange.
Faramir was saved a guarded reply by another voice. "I would not swear to that by your actions, Eomer." Unbeknownst to any, Legolas had approached the two Men. "I, too, fought beside Haldir and the Elves of Lothlorien. Yet, at every turn you insult me. Tell, me King of the Riddermark, what have I done to earn your ire?"
Eomer refused to look at Legolas. Not because he was angry at the Elf. He had no opinion of the Prince of Mirkwood, really. Oh, certainly he was aware that Legolas, along with Aragorn and a Dwarf named Gimli, had fought bravely for his people. Eomer could not stand to look at the tall, lithe form. He could not bear to stare in to vivid blue eyes and see long, beautiful blond hair. His heart broke every time he tried. Truly, under different circumstances, he and Legolas might have been friends. For now, all Eomer could wonder was how Legolas of Mirkwood lived while Haldir of Lothlorien did not. "You have my undying gratitude, Prince of Mirkwood." He tried to keep his tone even, to keep his voice from shattering as his soul felt shattered. Instead, he sounded wooden, flat; insincere. He stared down the wall, watching as yet another troupe of Elves entered the city.
Legolas' face remained placid and only the slight
flaring of his nostrils betrayed his irritation. "In that case, dine
beside me tonight."
"Yes, of course. Who is that?" He pointed below him to four Elves.
They had thrown back their hoods, revealing a wealth of straight blond hair.
Two of them were older Elves, a male and a female, though like most Elves,
their exact age could not be determined. The others were male. To Eomer's
untrained eye, they looked identical. But he had a hard time distinguishing
because he was too mesmerized by their resemblance to Haldir.
Legolas stood beside Eomer on the wall and glanced down. "Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien. Tis they you should thank for willingly parting with so many archers to defend the Mark."
"Not them. Them." Eomer snaked a finger at the two males. "The males. They look so much like. I mean." His face flushed beneath his beard. "They look a like."
"They are brothers, Rumil and Orophin. Their brother died at The Hornburg." Legolas noticed the faint flush staining Eomer's cheek and wondered.
"Ah. Perhaps that is it, then. For in truth,
all Elves look alike to me," Eomer turned, feigning a nonchalance he
did not feel. All he wanted to do was escape to his rooms. For the briefest
moment he thought he had been granted a reprieve. For a moment he thought
Haldir still lived.
Faramir pursed his lips and stole a glance at Eomer. He could hardly believe
his ears. He saw Legolas stiffen and thought the Elf might be offended enough
to take a swing at Eomer. Legolas swallowed the insult, never acknowledging
Eomer's rudeness.
"You can learn to tell us apart at dinner," Legolas said mildly.
Eomer went to move around Legolas, intent on putting as much distance as possible between himself and the Elves crowding Gondor. "…at dinner?"
"You agreed, King of the Riddermark, to sit beside me during the evening meal. I will introduce you to the brothers, Orophin and Rumil. Of course, Elladan and Elrohir will also be there. I am sure they will be more than happy to explain the differences between the Elves of Rivendell and Lothlorien, or even of Mirkwood." Legolas smiled serenely, but Faramir would have sworn he detected an evil glint in the blue eyes.
Dressed in gray and brown robes, Eomer entered the dining hall with Eowyn
on his arm Beside her walked Faramir who kept his face in a neutral expression
as he considered the evening's entertainment. He wasn't thinking about the
Elves and their gift of song and story, but rather of Eomer sitting between
five Elves from various kingdoms.
Legolas waited for Eomer and bowed with his hand to his heart when the King
of the Riddermark walked through the doors. "King Eomer. Please, I have
some friends, I would like for you to meet." He gestured behind him and
Orophin and Rumil stepped forward.
Eomer, despite having seen them from a distance earlier, paled when he came
face to face with the Lothlorien Elves. In their eyes he could see a reflection
of Haldir. He noticed, once he managed to tear his eyes away from theirs,
that they had less width in the shoulders, less bulk, than had Haldir. To
be certain, they had the amazing Elven strength, but, unlike their brother,
they seemed smaller and more slender, more in keeping with Legolas. Eomer
felt a moment of relief. He'd nearly made himself ill earlier as he contemplated
diner with two Elves who exactly resembled Haldir. He now only had to contend
with them as Elves.
He bowed, showing respect to the Elves. "I am honored," his lips barely moved and his words were barely audible, even to Elven ears.
So intent were they on the Man of the Mark, Legolas, Orophin and Rumil missed the exchange between Elrond's twins, Elrohir and Elladan. The twins had not known the King of Rohan before the Hornburg, but they had met him after and watched as his nerves slowly unraveled. The former Marshal of the Western Reaches was known as a fearless leader and tactician. He was known for his fairness, even when his temper grew short. However, somewhere between the great fortress of the Mark and Sauron's Black Gates, the man who had been forced in to the role of King had disintegrated into a distracted and ill-tempered hater of Elves and all things Elven. Or so it seemed to those who had come to know him in the past weeks. Elladan and Elrohir thought they knew why, though even they could not credit their own ears. Nor had they shared their thoughts, or the scene that they had overheard outside his tent that evening. Instead, they gave him a wide berth and showed far more patience with him than other of their Kind might have and encouraged Legolas to do the same.
Aragorn's dinner guests arranged themselves as they liked, for his was an informal meeting of friends and family. Too many changes had occurred in Middle Earth in the last year for ceremony to be taken too seriously. Time enough for that later when the marriages and alliances had been completed. When warriors returned to the business of being kings and leaders of men and armies. Galadriel watched Eomer as he was surrounded by the youngest of the Elves and ushered to a place between them, sandwiched, as it were, like an unwilling trout between Gollum's long-fingered hands. Her blue eyes shown and sparkled with a cold inner fire as she stared long and hard into Eomer's soul.
"I know the secrets of your heart, King of the Riddermark. I see the anguish you carry and refuse to share. I, too, share your grief for I also loved the March Warden of the Northern Fences."
Eomer's head snapped around, as though whipped by a stinging blow or a sharp breeze. His brown eyes grew first puzzled, and then angry. He finally locked eyes with Galadriel, who offered him the slightest bow, and glared at her, as though chastising her for prying into his most intimate secrets. "The Witch of Lothlorien," he said, barely loud enough for those next to him to hear. She only smiled her coy, sly smile in response.
"Do not be deceived, Man of the Mark, for though we may not show our anger and despair, that does not mean it does not exist."
"Get out of my mind, Witch," Eomer breathed. "Get out of my heart. You tread where you are not welcome. You have no right to trespass here."
"Did you say something?" Orophin leaned close to Eomer, straining to hear the barely breathed phrases.
"No." Eomer glanced sideways, swallowed, and looked down at his feet. "I said nothing." He seated himself at the long, polished table, several places down from Aragorn and his sister, Eowyn. The Steward of Gondor and Gandalf separated him from Celeborn and Galadriel.
Throughout dinner, Eomer sat and ate what was
placed before him, neither tasting nor smelling the rich food. He barely heard
the conversations swirling around him and drank copiously. Despite his efforts,
he did not become inebriated. Far from it, in fact, and he wondered if the
witch had not placed some spell upon him that prevented him from finding solace
in oblivion.
Once during the meal, he looked up and found himself confronted by Rumil.
The Lothlorien elf stared intently at him and Eomer found himself drowning
in blue eyes so like the ones that haunted his dreams. Does my pet wish to
play? Undress for me, pet. Eomer's hands twitched violently and wine sloshed
over the rim of his cup.
Rumil's eyes grew concerned as he watched sweat break out along the Man's forehead and his face paled beneath his beard. "Are you unwell?"
Soundlessly, Eomer's lips moved and Rumil had to lean close, nearly touching the Man. "I will not whore for you," Eomer said, his eyes glazing over and looking through Rumil as if the Elf were not there.
Rumil drew back, his face losing its customary composure, and gave Eomer a look of outrage that halted conversation the length of the table. Aragorn laid aside his fork and watched in growing alarm as anger spread across Rumil's features. Legolas raised his head to the King of Gondor with a look of bafflement. Even the twins, who suspected what tormented Eomer, were alarmed. Only Galadriel seemed oblivious to the tension between the Elves and Man. Fortunately, Lord Celeborn had the presence of mind to prevent his guard from skewering the King of Rohan with an imperceptible shake of his head.
Rumil bit down on his anger and uncurled his fingers. By effort of will and at the command of his lord, Rumil turned away from Eomer and began a conversation with his brother. Orophin was confused and startled by Rumil's reaction but realized that whatever had passed between his brother and the Man would not be revealed at the table.
Eomer blinked into the silence. Once again his body betrayed him and he felt the sexual stirring beneath his robe and leggings. He gulped wine and then placed the cup against his forehead, trying to cool his fevered skin. There is a pull between us, an electricity that I felt the moment you clasped my hand. Eomer shook and he had to set the cup on the table. His lips felt dry and cracked, as though he had been out in the sun for endless days without water.
A warm hand clasped his and he looked to his right, where Elladan sat. The Elf's hand gently squeezed his in a show of camaraderie. "When my father, Lord Elrond, arrives we will sing a lament for those who fell to Sauron and Saruman's forces. This will help you to heal, I think."
I do not understand why I cannot remove the image of your naked body from my mind, but there it is. "A song?" Eomer almost laughed. "I do not think a song will remove this pain from my heart or these images from my mind."
Legolas turned and frowned, as did Orophin and Rumil. Rumil and Orophin shared a look over Legolas' head. What had Elladan meant? Did Eomer mourn for the Elves at Helm's Deep? Would that be enough to explain the Man's peculiar behavior? Would it explain his apparent hatred of Elves?
Legolas started, his mouth opening in an 'o' of surprise and then snapping shut. Eomer's reaction to Haldir's brothers had struck him as odd. Now, perhaps, did he have an explanation? At his end of the table, Aragorn tilted his head to the side and said nothing as he watched the exchange between Elladan and Eomer.
After a few minutes, Eomer leaned over and spoke to Rumil. "I apologize if I have given offense this eve. I find I am unwell." To the table at large, he spoke. "If every one would please excuse me? I feel the need to retire." He rose and bowed to all and hurriedly exited the dining hall.
I am no man's-or Elf's-whore. Aren't you? An
inner voice mocked Eomer as he fled to his chambers, seeking solitude. You
are Haldir's whore, though he lies cold in the ground, you are his whore.
His pet. He possessed you. Owned you. Lament? Ha! You will mourn for him until
the day you die, Eomer. Deny it to the heavens. Your protestations will change
nothing.
I want to see how a Man looks unclothed. Inside his rooms, Eomer stripped
off his clothes and lay on the bed. His cock remembered as much as his mind
did. He willed his flesh to obey, but his member was no longer his to command.
The swollen flesh only remembered the commands of Haldir's voice. Remembered
the touch of Haldir's capable fingers.
And you wanted him to see you unclothed, proud in your manhood. You desired that Haldir should admire you. Be proud that you were his. In one night, with one thrust, he made you his pet. Eomer stifled his cries with his arm.
You will obey me." Smack. "I will not tolerate your insolence." Smack. "Disobedience has consequences." Smack. "Do you understand me, Man?" Smack.
Eomer panted, unable to think, unable to answer. He was surprised. He was embarrassed. He was unbearably aroused.
Smack. "Answer." Smack.
"Yes." Eomer breathed, he ass on fire and beginning to sting from the blows being delivered by Haldir.
Smack. "What?" Smack.
"Yes, Master."
Eomer's body jerked and convulsed as he remembered. His cock danced atop his belly, leaking clear sweet fluid. He tight opening contracted and he could almost feel Haldir buried deep inside him, scraping against that tender spot that had sent him spinning out of control. Eomer cried as his seed spurted and pooled on the hard lines of his stomach, matting the soft hairs.
You will do what I tell you, pet, or accept
the consequences.
"Yes, Master." Eomer rolled over on to his stomach and cried into
his arms.