Faramir Fiction Archive

Éomer: Memories (NC-17)

Written by J_Flattermann

11 November 2011 | 6966 words

Éomer: Memories [part 2]
Pairing: Éomer/Théodred/Faramir/Aragorn
Genre: Slash
Rating: NC-17 (for this part)
Word count: 1662
Disclaimer: Pure fiction. No copyright infringement intended. ? All characters belong to their legal copyright holders.
Summary: After the war Éomer mourns for Théodred and Faramir stirs up feelings unintentionally.
Beta: ingrid44 with my warmest thanks.

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Part 2

Aragorn had walked out of the hall and stood at the far end of the courtyard staring out towards the Northwest. His mind wandered to the River Anduin near the Falls of Rauros. He envisaged the attack at Parth Galen and how he had found Boromir mortally wounded. Boromir had died in his arms that day and he blamed himself. Over and over he mused of what might have been. What might have happened if Boromir had sounded the horn earlier. What might have happened if he had responded quicker, if there were no Uruks in his path. Would he have reached Boromir sooner? Would he have been able to prevent his death? He believed the answer was Yes.

At the other end of the courtyard Faramir opened the door to his office, lit a candle and invited the young King of Rohan to come in and sit down. Out of a sideboard he produced two glasses and a crystal decanter filled with red wine. He brought them back to the table, filled the glasses and sat down opposite of Éomer.

Éomer inhaled the bouquet of the offered wine but it was Faramir who took the first sip. He had to steady his nerves so he took another sip. He cleared his throat and wiped his hands on his thighs. “ My Lord,” he started, “I have just recently inherited the position as the Steward of Gondor and as you might know had been severely wounded.” Again he took a sip and started to cough as the wine went down the wrong way. Éomer waited until the coughing fit ceased. For the moment he was none the wiser. He had no idea where this conversation would lead. However he was willing to wait until Faramir had stated his case.

Aragorn hung his head. Tears stung his eyes. Now that he need not rush to the next battle the memories were tormenting him. Causing him sleepless nights and even affecting his marriage. His wife was very understanding and supportive. T his made him feel even worse. He felt he had no one to talk to. Legolas and Gimli had set off on new adventures. Faramir he couldn’t confide in as the topic was to painful for both of them. Here in Minas Tirith he was constantly confronted with reminders of Boromir and he did not know how to cope. Gandalf found him crouched close to the precipice weeping like a child. He took the king by his arm; pulled him up away from the abyss. Having seen Denethor jumping from this spot evoked the greatest fear for the king’s safety.

He escorted King Elessar back to his quarters and sat him in a chair by the fire. The Queen had sent him out to find her husband. Her Elven instincts had told her that her husband needed someone, preferably a member of the Fellowship to talk to. So there they sat, the king and the old wizard. Aragorn poured out his heart and spoke of his guilty conscience. After Gandalf heard the full account of what had transpired at Parth Galen, he stood and walk over to Aragorn who again had begun to weep violently. “It is not your fault. You did what you could that fateful day.” he said, “I know that it will not console you if I say that it was fate. Nor am I saying that Boromir died to redeem his failure to resist the ring. That ring was pure evil. It tempted many.” He looked down at the sobbing king. “I truly believe that Boromir had the best intentions at heart. He believed if he could bring the ring to Gondor something good would have resulted. The only mistake he made, and it is a very human mistake at best, was that he underestimated the power of the ring.”

The old wizard bent down and patted the king’s shoulder. “He didn’t deserved to die. True. However you were in the midst of a battle yourself. So were Legolas and Gimli. From you accounts I take it that you were quite some distance away when you heard the horn and immediately you made your way to join Boromir. No my friend, this death does not fall on your shoulders. You are not to blame and I will go even further and say that it would grieve Boromir deeply to see you in such a state.” The old wizard walk over to the door and opened it. Outside stood the queen with a tray in her hands. Food and drink were on the tray. The old wizard smiled at her, “Go to your husband my child,” he said. “He needs you and your wisdom.” With these words the wizard shut the door behind the queen and left.

Faramir finally stopped coughing. He continued, picking up the thread of his previous statement “Being wounded I was at the house of healing. I had to spend quite some time there as you might know. It was while there that I met her. Your sister, Éowyn.” Éomer nodded but remained silent. He was wondering where this strange conversation was heading but now had a faint idea that it involved his sister.
“Um, and it’s about her why I wanted to speak to you.” Faramir took another sip. “There, now I’ve said it.” he declared. “I would like your permission to court her. I want to marry her.” He uttered the last words as if they were choking him. Éomer gave as small smile. “It is not for me to decide, you know. You have my blessing thou, Steward of Gondor. But remember she is a Princess and her brother a King. I don’t know what she will make of this, but if she loves you it will not matter.” Faramir nodded. “I already thought about that.” he said, “My king, King Elessar has given me his blessing as well. He said if she agrees to marry me, he will make me Prince of Ithilien. If this helps.” Suddenly the young Gondorian looked very miserable. Éomer stood and walked over, patted his back and said “Chin up, I think she likes you already. But you have to find out for yourself if she loves you as well. Sorry, chap, I can’t help you with this.” And with these words he left the Steward alone in the office.

Éomer looked over to the Great Hall where the festivities was still on going. He heard the laughter and the singing. Suddenly he felt he could not return to the crowd. He walked away over to the other end of the courtyard and soon found himself at the edge of the precipice. The same precipice where shortly before Aragorn had stood. Éomer looked down into the abyss. He had heard of the manner of Denethor’s death, the father of both Boromir and Faramir. A shudder went through him at the thought that the old Steward had jumped from here. Suicide was strictly against his beliefs. A warrior had to die in combat to be allowed to join the ancestors in the Great Hall. There King Théoden and most important of all Théodred would be waiting, when he met them again. Nothing in this world would make him jeopardise his chances to rejoin his beloved Théodred.

His mind wandered again to happier days when he and Théodred spent time together. They had spoken about death. Often! However it was always their fear that he Éomer would be the first to die. His responsibility had been the Mordor frontier. Théodred frequently mentioned his worry knowing that even routine patrols would bring Éomer close to the Enemy’s front line.

Another smile appeared on Éomer’s face. He suddenly remembered when Théodred stayed at Aldburg to be instructed in warfare and strategy. He only wished his uncle had sent his cousin over sooner, then maybe Théodred would have been better prepared for the battle at the Fords of Isen and with a slim chance, survived. Éomer shook his head. These were mind games, these ‘What if’s’ did not change anything apart from making him depressed and morbid.

The queen sat next to her husband. She handed him a glass of red wine. “Drink.“she said, “drink this.” She softly stroked a stray strand of hair out of his face. His face was flushed and blotchy, his eyes swollen. She took him in her arms rocking him like a small child. “I know,” she whispered, “I know you miss him. We all do. Not in quite the same way of course.” He remained silent. “Estel? Talk to me. Please!” she said, “You know me, I understand. I am not jealous nor am I about to make a scene. I am an Elf, you know we think differently. You were raised with us. I know. I understand these things. You need male company. Don’t misunderstand, I know Boromir can’t be replaced. But remember I have two brothers who also love you dearly, they would be only to happy to help. If you would just ask them. Or would you prefer if I was to ask them?”

The king looked at his queen and suddenly grabbed her and kissed her hard. “Thank you.” He whispered. “Thank you.”

Éomer sat in his room by the window on the upper level of Minas Tirith, overlooking the courtyard. Tomorrow they would return to Pelenor Fields and recover King Théoden’s remains to take back to Edoras. Éomer had ordered the remains be buried in the Kings vault next to Théodred’s tomb. He personally would oversee the transport back and the remaining Eoreds would form an honour guard for the dead king. Tomorrow he would visit his sister and see if she wished to accompany him back to Edoras. He was curious. Had Faramir spoken to her already?

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