Faramir Fiction Archive

Half-Hearted Holiday (NC-17)

Written by Laurëlóte

29 September 2006 | 19511 words

Chapter 7

Éomer had just risen to his feet when Mablung charged into the room, his eyes displaying as anger similar to that which had possessed Faramir the day before. He had just seen his captain flee from the caves in an extremely distressed state and was determined to get to the bottom of the matter.

Just seconds later, Éomer found himself pinned up against the wall. “What the hell did you say to him?” spat Mablung. “Did I not warn you?”

The Rohirrim found himself unable to speak; he was far too shocked and confused to think straight. How did you explain to one who seemed intent on killing you, what you did not really know yourself?

“I said nothing, I swear,” he answered after a few moments, hoping he sounded convincing.

“Then why, pray tell, have I just seem him in such a state?”

“I… we…” stuttered Éomer before falling silent. The last thing he wanted to do was explain to this seemingly over-possessive ranger what had happened. His lack of answer however caused the grip on him to tighten more so he was almost choking.

“Answer quickly or I swear I will cut your cursed tongue from your mouth.”

“We kissed!” Éomer snapped, obviously flustered.

“We kissed,” he repeated again softly in defeat. “And then he fled, I know not why. I wish I did.”

Mablung growled but released his grip on the young man, at once becoming calmer, knowing exactly why Faramir would be upset. He could only guess at the emotional turmoil the young man was going through.

“And you did absolutely nothing to hurt him?” he asked, needing final confirmation before going to talk to his captain.

“No, I could never hurt him.” As soon as the words left Éomer’s mouth he knew that they were true. He did not want to see Faramir hurt ever again.

Mablung nodded; he may dislike the man but he found that he believed him. “Come my Lord, I will take you back to the main hall and then I will go and find our prince.”

Outside, Faramir cursed himself for being so foolish. He wanted the Rohirrim, he could not doubt that for a moment, but kissing Éomer had just made everything so much more complicated.

The kiss they had shared had been incredible; he had never experienced anything like it. If he had stayed, things would have gone further, and he knew that he would never be able to let him go if that happened. But they had stopped at a kiss, so maybe they could just go back to the way things were before, forget that it ever happened.

Faramir sighed, he was fooling no one, it was impossible to go back to hating Éomer, and he found that he was increasingly fascinated by him. He was a man of contradictions; he could be both warm and cold, both charming and spiteful. He wanted to experience everything about him.

He closed his eyes and found himself wondering what it would be like to give himself completely to Éomer, and how it would feel to have full control over the Horse-lord, to make him beg…

He shook his head angrily, attempting to rid his thoughts from his mind; he had to stop thinking this way. He could not hurt Éowyn like this, she did not deserve it. He had promised he would be faithful to her and look after her, and here he was in danger of breaking his oath before they even said their vows. And then there was Boromir.

He had told his brother that he could not choose who he fell in love with, and now he could feel his heart being stolen away from him; he was breaking his brother’s order and there was simply nothing he could do about it.

“He would not want you to be miserable, my friend,” said Mablung softly, resting a hand on Faramir’s shoulder, knowing exactly what the young man would be thinking.

“Those words he said were designed for the dark times we were in. The world is at peace now; there are not the same dangers as there used to be. If Boromir was here, he would take back his words.”

“But he is not. So he can not,” replied Faramir angrily, bitter that Boromir was not here when he needed him; the realisation that his brother would never be there for him again was more than he could bear.

Mablung sighed and wrapped his arms around the young man. He had looked after Faramir ever since he had first come to Ithilien and had watched him develop into a good leader and soldier, and an even better man. Over the years, the steward had confided in him, telling him many of his troubles and worries. It pained him now to see this lovely young man hurting yet again.

“Then I will leave you with this,” he said quietly. “A King is not a soldier. He is first a peace keeper and a diplomat.”

“Whatever you decide, you must talk to him tomorrow. I do not doubt that he cares about you, he is worried and it is only fair that you explain. Maybe he can help you find a solution to your worries.”

With that, Mablung rose to depart, leaving Faramir to his thoughts. He only hoped that the young man would take some time to think about what had just been said.

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