Eomer walked along the corridor of the king's palace sandwiched between Elrohir and Elladan. The lines and planes of his face were smooth again, showing none of his previous anguish or internal struggles. His head felt clearer than it had since Helm's Deep. He had, during his two days in Elrond's chambers, learned to accept not only who he was, but also what fate had forced him to become. Certainly the burden of kingship rested heavily on his shoulders, but now he felt better capable of bearing the weight.
They were the last to gather in the hall, besides Aragorn and his companions, before the coronation ceremony. Eowyn rushed to greet him as he entered.
"Eomer, I wanted to come see you, but Lord Elrond said it would be better if I let you rest." She searched his eyes, noting they had lost their lack-luster appearance. His cheeks glowed with health and vitality and Eowyn began to relax for the first time in days.
"I am sure Lord Elrond knew what was best. I feel much better, for having rested." He laced his arm around her waist and gave her a gentle kiss on her cheek. "And have you and Faramir used the time wisely?"
Eowyn blushed. "I promised him that I would make my decision today. After I had seen you."
"Then we shall have two weddings this week," Eomer stated. He was glad for Eowyn. At first he'd had his reservations, but he found he liked Faramir and wanted nothing more than to see him wed to Eowyn. Not only would it provide an alliance between the Rohirrim and Gondor, but also it would create a line of succession for the Rohirrim, which would be beneficial in the long run. Eowyn moved to Faramir's side and Eomer went to take his place beside the other rulers waiting to witness Aragorn's assumption of Gondor's throne.
He walked close to Orophin and Rumil and his breath caught. They were so much like Haldir that he had to pause and admire them. They wore matching tunics the color of mallorn leaves trimmed with silver that gleamed like the night stars. When they eyed him coolly, he lowered his eyes. Taking his courage firmly by the hand, he stepped up to the brother. "Orophin and Rumil, brothers of Haldir," he began haltingly.
They bowed, perfectly, in unison. Neither one smiled or offered any sort of friendly gesture. "King of the Rohirrim," Orophin, the elder of the two responded. "I am glad to see you are well enough to attend the ceremony."
Eomer met the deep blue eyes squarely, refusing to be intimated by the Elf. "Thank you. I would like to offer my apologies for my previous behavior. I am not accustomed to treating my allies so crudely. I can only offer the excuse that I was unwell. Your brother's death left me greatly unnerved." He added in an undertone, intended only for Rumil and Orophin.
Rumil's lips pursed. "I was not aware that you were intimate with my brother, Haldir." He, too, kept his voice quiet, so that others could not hear the exchange.
Eomer's eyes clouded briefly with memory. "You brother and I met on the plains of Rohan before the battle of The Hornburg. I am aware of the greatness of his sacrifice and the cost to the two of you."
A brief flare of silver trumpets interrupted their conversation and he hurried forward to take his place. Across from him, Faramir stood next to his sister. The two men nodded to each other. Beside him, Lady Galadriel's vivid eyes were speculative.
----Thy heart slowly heals, Man of the Mark. Nonetheless, thou hast much to learn and many steps yet to take. Thou hast yet to accept the truth, for that which you crave is not thy heart's desire. Look you beyond him who enthralls you, for that heart-the heart of your heart's desire-stands in the shadows of the great.----
Eomer swallowed. He was decidedly discommoded by Galadriel's presence in his mind. Her words, too, caused him concern. What did the Lady of the Golden Wood mean? What had she seen? Eomer had no time further introspection as Aragorn, accompanied by Lord Elrond and Gandalf, entered the King's Hall. The long ceremony prevented Eomer from questioning Lady Galadriel, nor was he sure he would have, had he the time.
The phallus buried in his ass constantly rubbed against his prostate and his erection jerked relentlessly against the soft hairs of his stomach. During several short breaks, Eomer was led from the chambers by Elladan and allowed a moment's respite while the Elf deftly extracted the leather implement and allowed Eomer to relax. As soon as the breaks were over, the phallus was just as deftly reinserted and Eomer returned to the ceremony in a state of arousal that left his mouth constantly dry and his hands lightly trembling. When anyone asked, such as his ever-worried sister, he told her fatigue was the cause of his angst. By the time the ceremony ended, evening had begun to shade the White City and all Eomer wanted was relief.
When the coronation ended, the guests retired for a respite before the banquet. Combined sexual need and the heightened emotional excitement of the day's activities left Eomer feeling tense and hypersensitive. Eomer felt Lord Elrond's hand on his shoulder.
"How fare you, King Eomer?" Elrond's visage was a marvel of compassion and sympathy.
The King of Rohan had no doubt that Elrond's concern was genuine. Yet, it was not Elrond's compassion that Eomer craved. Rather it was his passion that Eomer hoped to release. "I am fatigued but otherwise, fine, Lord Elrond." He responded truthfully.
"Perhaps you should use this time to rest?"
"You are doubtlessly correct, Lord Elrond," Eomer lowered his eyes demurely; hoping those around him mistook the gesture for one of politeness and not submissiveness. He knew his master would be displeased otherwise.
Elrond made an eloquent gesture with his hand and Elladan instantly appeared by his side. "Would you help King Eomer? He has expressed the need to rest before the banquet and I must agree with his diagnosis. He is only recently from his bed and should not overtax himself today of all days."
Eomer hid his disappointment. The request was a natural one as Elladan had his father's healing skills and had used them during the battles against Sauron's armies. But this was not what Eomer had hoped for and he was saddened that his master would not be coming to relieve him.
With a comforting smile to Eowyn, he excused himself to 'rest' before the banquet and meekly followed Elladan from the Hall. He walked tensely beside Elladan without really seeing where they were going. Instead of arriving at Lord Elrond's chambers, Eomer was surprised to discover himself standing outside an unfamiliar door. He avoided giving Elladan a questing look, fearing to irritate the man to whom his master had entrusted his care.
Elladan opened the door and ushered his play toy inside. Once inside, Eomer found himself in a room that was similar to Elrond's save in color. Obviously Aragorn thought as highly of Elrond's sons as he did of Elrond. Thick carpets covered the wooden floor. Cream velvet drapes covered the windows overlooking a garden. A door led to the sleeping room where a large bed was draped in gold satin brocade. A push in the middle of his back propelled Eomer to the sleeping room.
"Let's get those clothes off, shall we?" Elladan began working on the straps binding Eomer's armor.
Eomer was soon standing in nothing but a linen under tunic. He was relieved to be rid of the clothes, though he'd never before been bothered by the armor he'd all but grown up wearing. He stretched his muscular shoulders, reaching above his head until the muscles and joints creaked in protest. He bounced on the balls of his feet, relieving the tension in his arches and knees. As he wriggled luxuriously, he could feel the phallus inside him shift, nearly sending him over the edge. He drew in a deep, calming breath and willed his body to behave. He would not embarrass his master by having an undisciplined body. A stinging slap to his buttocks instantly brought his mind back into focus.
Elladan swung the leather strap idly, walking around Eomer and examining the Rohirrim's body. "Remove the rest of your clothes."
Eomer quickly divested himself of the last of his clothing, discarding them carelessly on the floor. The welts and bruises glistened on his skin. To Eomer, the marks were a badge of honor, a sign of ownership. Possessed. Desired. The lash flicked against Eomer's right nipple and he shivered with desire.
"What shall I do with you, little whore?" Elladan rhetorically inquired.
Eomer lowered his head. He knew what he wanted more than anything, but he knew he could not vocalize his request. Quietly he waited to see what Elladan decided.
Elladan decided to remove the phallus first of all. The heavy leather slipped from his body, leaving Eomer feeling empty. He whimpered. The lashed swished through the air and connected with Eomer's back. He arched and bit his lip. The pain was exquisite. What came next left Eomer feeling confused.
Rather than continuing with the beating, Elladan discarded the whip and clutched the back of Eomer's head. Twining his fingers in the long blond tresses, Elladan pulled Eomer close in a deep, soul-searing kiss. His tongue pushed between Eomer's lips and gently touched Eomer's tongue. Eomer moaned, feeling the silkiness of the Elf's tongue invading his mouth and, oddly, finding an unexpected delight in the new sensation. Elladan held himself away from Eomer so that only their tongues touched. After several minutes, the Elf broke the kiss and stepped back, studying Eomer.
"You taste good for a Man, little whore," he crooned softly, running his hands lightly down Eomer's hairy chest. "Tell me something, Eomer of the Mark, if you could chose your pleasure, what would you chose?"
Eomer thought carefully. "I would choose to pleasure my Master."
"Meaning you would rather have my father's cock in your mouth then mine in your ass?" Elladan's eyebrow arched, reminding Eomer so much of Elrond that he almost smiled.
"He is my master, Lord Elladan," Eomer reminded the Elf. "I only live to serve and please him."
'What will you do when he abandons you, King of the Mark? What will you do when he returns to Imladris with his favorite slave, Erestor? What will you do when he finally departs these shores for the West?' Elladan asked nastily.
Eomer could not formulate a reply.
"Will you curl up and try to die the way you did after Haldir went to Mandos? Will you slowly lose your mind before your people? Will you risk your crown, King of the Mark?"
"I do not know," Eomer managed. He had not thought past the moment, in truth. He had committed himself to Lord Elrond that night on the balcony and he'd simply never thought beyond Aragorn's coronation. He could not, he knew, abandon his people and follow Lord Elrond across Middle Earth. Nor could he afford to crumble the way he had when Haldir had died.
Elladan tugged fitfully at one braid. Eomer exasperated him.
The more he got to know the Man, the more infatuated with him he became. However,
Eomer had willingly given himself to Elrond as he had to Haldir. Whatever did
one do with one so willing to be bent and broken by another? What was it about
Eomer that he could so easily switch masters? Masters. The thought stilled Elladan's
hand.
"Tell me, little whore, did Haldir allow you to top him?"
Confusion showed on Eomer's face. "I am unfamiliar with the term, Lord Elladan."
"Then the answer is no." Elladan peeled off his plum and gray robes, revealing his perfect body. There were faint traces of a previous beating, though mostly they'd healed. His erection jutted out, plainly ready. He retrieved the whip and passed it to Eomer.
Eomer stared at the hand proffering the whip as if Elladan had offered him a dismembered body part. "Surely my lord does not mean to suggest?"
Elladan laughed. "Oh, but I do, Eomer. I will teach you
what my father will not." He turned his back and spread his legs wide,
holding his arms away from his lithe body.
"Come, master, punish me," he invited.
Eomer felt his cock go even more rigid. He did not think his erection could get any harder, but it did. Painfully hard. Experimentally he swung the whip, getting the feel of it. A sudden sense of power exploded in his chest. He swung the whip, not hard, for he was uncertain of himself, and the tip touched Elladan's smooth skin. A little red mark appeared on the Elf's shoulder. Eomer breathed deeply, savoring the power. He swung again, this time harder. He was rewarded by Elladan's soft moan. He circled Elladan, flickering the whip up and down the Elf's body, watching in fascination as the blood welled to the surface. He moaned himself when Elladan threw back his head, the long, dark, silky hair brushing the muscled shoulders. Eomer felt a bloodlust overcome him and swung the whip with such violence that Elladan screamed, not in pleasure, but genuine pain. Horrified, Eomer dropped the whip.
"Lord Elladan?" He whispered with his lips against the Elf's ear. His fingers roamed Elladan's body, causing the Elf's skin to ripple as the salt of Eomer's fingers seeped in to the welts.
"My master does not know his own strength," Elladan panted softly.
"I am sorry," Eomer laid his head against Elladan's shoulder.
Elladan relaxed against the Man and smiled to himself. "Tell me something, King of the Mark."
"What?" Eomer inhaled Elladan's fragrance and was aroused by it. He couldn't resist the opportunity to nip the tip of pointed ear. He'd once heard that for Elves, the ear tip was one of the most erogenous zones of the body. He had not been misinformed, he discovered as Elladan pressed against him and writhed.
"Have you ever lain with a male to whom you were not a slave?"
"No," Eomer ran his hand along Elladan's back, delighting in the feel of the soft skin beneath his fingers.
"If I ask it, will you lay with me?"
Eomer's hand stilled. He had never considered what it would be like to be a willing partner to sexual intercourse with a male. He had, of course, initially tried to pretend he was repulsed by Haldir's advances. That, he knew, had been a lie. But the impulses had never been his. He'd been submissive. He'd been able to pretend he did not want a cock inside his mouth or his ass. He could lie to himself. But if he went willingly to Elladan's arms? Could he still lie to himself?
"If my master commands this." He answered; knowing that wasn't what Elladan had wanted to hear.
Anger flooded Elladan and he brutally shoved Eomer from him. "Turn." He commanded.
When Eomer complied, Elladan forced the Man to his knees and shoved the phallus back into place. "You are not worth my time, little whore. I shall send you back to my father. Wait here until he comes to claim you."
Elladan quickly redressed and left the chambers.
Eomer wiped away his tears with the back of his arm.