Faramir Fiction Archive

His Light Beneath... (NC-17)

Written by Númenora

25 May 2006 | 13263 words

Chapter Two

Faramir was the last to arrive in the King's private Dining Hall—a telltale sign that he was upset. At home, this was often the case when the young Steward-Prince had endured his father's ire in some form or other; then, his tardiness would lead to more criticism. At least, I will be spared that for tonight, He thought to himself.

As he approached the Princes Band plus Éowyn, he smiled, though it did not reach his lovely, sad eyes. "Forgive my lateness; have I missed much?"

"Théodred was curious about your reference to Legolas as `Prince- bride,' and Legolas was just about to explain its origins." Boromir informed, scanning his brother's face for his earlier despondence.

This made Faramir smile genuinely, as this was one of this favorite tales. Legolas had been in Minas Tirith for several months, but the people were still in awe of him—being an elf, but also because of his exceptional beauty. When Aragorn and he announced their engagement, the people were pleased; but later, when they discovered that the Elven Prince could bear children, they were jubilant— fawning all over themselves to please him. This was especially true of the nobility and wealthy merchants—which led to the incident that spawned the moniker that Legolas himself inadvertently penned.

Gifts to the newly engaged couple came daily (sometimes hourly) to the Citadel and one prominent tailor took it upon himself to design Legolas' wedding raiment and trousseau. He had begged a private audience with the Prince to present his wedding gift; the crown jewel being a long-sleeved, floor length white tunic of gossamer lace and covered with seedling peals.

"You should have seen this monstrosity! It had a long train-like attachment at the waist that trailed at least six-feet. And he had the nerve to stand there beaming while telling me that his `lovely daughter' had a dress made from a similar material and she was radiant at her wedding; and I, who is even more beautiful than even she, would look `simply divine!' I was livid and I told him that I was no maiden and that I wanted him to leave my sight at once!" Legolas shuddered to remember.

"That is where Faramir and I came into it. We had arrived at `Las's suite of rooms so that we all could go join Boromir at the stables. His guard was inside and my Beloved's sweet voice was spouting very vile expletives at the hapless tailor, who's Sindarin was thankfully quite rusty as he kept saying `Slowly, Your Highness, I do not understand!'"

Faramir took up from Aragorn. "If looks could slay, that poor man would have been dead where he stood. And Legolas' guard was trying to usher the man out, but the tailor was continually trying to calm Legolas, assuring him that he could change the color if that would please him.

"He said—and this nearly caused his death—`My daughter wore white, so you probably don't wish to appear in a similar garment as hers.' Then Aragorn..." He chuckled. "Aragorn had to grab Legolas, for he'd pulled his guard's sword from his scabbard and was inches from removing the man from his head—which would have only been an improvement!"

"By this time, Elurín had pushed the merchant from the sitting room and into the hall; I could hear the elf trying to reassure him that the Prince was preparing to attend sword lessons and that if his Lord decided to except his kind offer, he would be in contact. The elf obviously missed his calling as a diplomat!" The peredhel kissed his spouse's temple as he'd finished.

"Aragorn truly saved that man's life!" Legolas said.

"We then asked Legolas what could have upset him so; that's when he picked up the `garment' and shoved it in my arms. When I held it up and away from me, Faramir and I were both shocked, but my Cousin here didn't help the matter by laughing and declaring it `very pretty.' Then `Las sputtered, `Pretty! You think that monstrosity is pretty?'"

Then Faramir and Aragorn finished by quoting Legolas together, "`I don't wear pretty!'" They all laughed at that.

Then Legolas ended the tale. "I told them that I didn't appreciate being treated as if I weren't male; just because I'm capable of bearing children, didn't mean that I was some Prince-bride; and that's when these two started referring to me as Aragorn's Prince- bride."

"Of course, when Boromir learned of this, he started referring to me as the Prince-groom so that everyone could tell who was which. We were careful to only tease about these amongst family and since we consider you here as kin, you now know." Aragorn and Legolas kissed briefly.

"That is a very amusing story, Your Highnesses." Éowyn said. She then glanced over to Faramir, smiling as she did so, which caused Éomer to glare at the younger man when he returned it out of courtesy.

Faramir's brief joviality fled at the Third Marshal's fierce look and he stared down at the stone floor. Boromir noticed this, but the dinner gong sounded, preventing him from commenting. He vowed to get to the bottom of the matter after supper.

As an honored guest and the Crowned Prince, Aragorn sat to the King Théoden's right, with Legolas next to him; Boromir, who would have sat to his left, chose to sit at Théodred's right, leaving the King's left for Faramir. Éowyn was placed next to Faramir simply because she wanted it, which left Éomer sitting to Théodred's left— this put him across from Éowyn and gave him sidelong view to Faramir.

The conversation was lively during dinner and Éowyn asked permission to relay the story of Legolas' wedding `dress' to her uncle who had not been present earlier; as she talked, her brother would smile fondly at her, while occasionally throwing hostile glares at Faramir whenever she would ask him to clarify something.

It became increasingly uncomfortable for the young Gondoran and he began speaking in stilted sentences and monosyllabic answers. At one moment, his voice caught, which alerted Boromir, Aragorn and Legolas that something was the matter with him—having become used to this whenever Denethor was dining with the Steward-prince.

The conversation slowed due to the trio's concern for their relative. Éowyn noticed, but didn't understand what was wrong, so she asked about everyone's excursion, "Prince Legolas; how did you like the Falls?"

"Please, Éowyn—Just `Legolas' or I'll start calling you `Princess.'" He joked since he knew that she didn't like being called that.

She held up her hands in surrender, "No, please!"

"To answer your inquiry—It was magnificent; a wonder even."

"And you, Faramir—How did you find it?"

"Quite beautiful, My Lady...sorry...Éowyn." He corrected.

"I am so glad. I would have loved to see your reaction to your first glimpse, but my brother thinks me too fragile." She looked pointedly at Éomer.

"He is merely concerned for you and your welfare." Faramir said.

"And I will continue to be so until my dying day—vowing to protect you from all who would harm you." Faramir did not miss the jibe at him, but kept his eyes downcast.

Éowyn became uncomfortable at the exchange. Boromir looked at Éomer with growing anger; Aragorn and Legolas were fast following. Even King Théoden was becoming annoyed at his nephew's behavior.

Théodred whispered into his ear, "What is this? Why are you purposely being rude to Faramir?"

"Why don't you ask him—or Boromir? It seems we are not good enough for them!" Éomer hissed back.

Glancing at her sibling and then back to Faramir, she sought to make the conversation lighter. "Perhaps we could do something together. There are several new foals and some of the older ones will be brought out to the paddocks; I could show them to you. Wouldn't you like to do that, Faramir?"

The idea of seeing these newborns appealed to Faramir's gentle soul, but before he could answer, Éomer next declaration stopped whatever he would have said.

"Do not place your hopes on such an outing or anything else with Lord Faramir; for it will come to naught. I have learned to never make that mistake again." Éomer looked directly into Faramir's devastated eyes—now a deep violet with unshed tears.

The younger Steward-prince fought against blinking, not wanting his tears to fall before everyone. They would always cause Denethor to berate him for his weakness.

"What are you about, Éomer?" Boromir hissed at him. Then Faramir stood and addressed King Théoden.

"Sire; would you excuse me for the remainder of this lovely meal? It would seem that I am unwell; I believe that today's outing and last eve's overindulgence have taken their toll. I do apologize for the interruption." He spoke quickly, his words running together in some cases.

"Of course, Faramir." The King was not blind and he threw a hard look at Éomer.

"Thank you, My Lord." He gave a quick bow, careful to keep his face up and turned to go—his urge to run making his steps hurried. He prayed to Eru that he would make it before anyone noticed the teardrops that were imminent.

He lost the battle as he stepped into the corridor outside the Dining Hall and his hot tears met with the cold stone floors, a testament to his breaking heart. As he got closer to the wing set aside for him and his family, his steps slowed, so overwhelmed by his emotions. Somehow, he found himself crumpling to the floor and he leaned back against the wall; bringing his knees up to his chest, his head fell forward as he cried silently—another skill he developed over the years.

Boromir left the Hall a few moments behind Faramir, but it seemed like forever and he couldn't get to his brother fast enough for his tastes. When he caught up to the younger man, his heart skipped at the familiar sight; though lately, Faramir had gotten better at hiding himself away. This new hurt from another that he loved obviously had caught the young dúnadan off his guard.

The Ranger that stood guard at Faramir's door had tentatively approached him, standing protectively over him, but not knowing what to do to comfort. The look of relief he threw Boromir's way when he kneeled next to his little brother spoke volumes. The young Gondoran moved away to the wing entrance to keep intruders away while the older Steward-prince looked after the younger.

"It is alright, Love; your Bro'mir is here." When Faramir was just past a year, he couldn't say `Boromir,' it being too many syllables; but he managed Bro'mir.

Faramir lifted his head and all his pain was reflected there and his next words (spoken with anguish and a touch of humor) really broke his big brother's heart. "I told you he didn't want me."

Boromir pulled him close to his chest, tucking his curly, red head underneath Boromir's chin as he rocked him gently. He kept repeating `I love you, Little One' over and over as sobs (no longer silent) wracked Faramir's smaller frame; the whole time he silently vowed to make Éomer pay for harming his sweet boy.

King Théoden asked Aragorn and Legolas if they wanted to leave as well, saying that he would understand under the circumstances— looking coolly at Éomer.

"I thank you, Your Majesty; but in times like these, we have learned it's best to give the brothers some time alone first. Boromir is what he needs most right now." Aragorn informed.

"Very well; but I won't hold you to conversation or dessert. Éomer, I would speak to you after supper." The rest of the meal was finished in silence. When the last dishes were removed, Aragorn and Legolas left to check on their cousin.

And true to his word, King Théoden pulled Éomer aside afterwards. "I want to know what that matter with Faramir was about."

"I am sorry, My Lord; but it is a matter between Faramir and me."

"Then perhaps, next time you will keep it away from the supper table! I will not have my guests—My Royal guests—upset; especially from a representative of Rohan."

As the First Marshal left his nephew, the Second whispered into his ear. "Father may have accepted that, but I will not! How could you speak so cruelly and disrespectfully to our friend? I thought that you loved him?"

"I loved the person that I thought he was—not that hypocrite! I thought him so good and noble, but I was wrong, for he is neither." Éomer was so disillusioned by who he thought that Faramir was.

"I can not believe this; Faramir are none of those things."

"No? Well, he is not the only one; Boromir and the entire Dúnedain race of Gondor are just as false as he." At Théodred's incredulous stare, he continued.

"Did you know that we are not good enough for our dear friends? Yes, that is right. Éowyn and every other non-dúnadan mortal woman are not fit to marry one of them for they would taint their precious Númenórean blood with their inferior offspring!"

"How can that be true? Legolas is not Dúnadan..."

"Nor is he mortal! That is the rub, Dear Cousin; elves are permitted apparently because they add to their lifespan, while we diminish it. Maybe you should think on that the next time Boromir's cock is inside you!" Théodred looked about as Éomer's voice carried.

"Mind your words! Do not take your anger out on me. If what you say is true, I fail to see how it affects you or me."

"How can it not? Are we not the same as my sister?"

"No—we are not, for she is female and besides, Faramir does not love her; he loves you. Even if he did love Éowyn, I doubt that Faramir would allow that to stop him from marrying her."

"That is not what he told me in the glen." He rubbed his temple, saying," I weary of talking about this. I would ask a favor of you, Théodred; look after Éowyn while I am away."

"Where are you going?" Théodred asked.

"I'm going to join my men in the Eastmark; and as far as I'm concern, the Princes Band is no more." With that, he walked off.

Théodred left a few moments later. As he past one of the large columns beside door just outside the Dining Hall, he didn't see Éowyn standing just out of sight. Her cousin had seen her leave the room just before King Théoden spoke with Éomer; but she became worried about her brother and wanted to know why he'd been so rude to Faramir. She entered just in time to hear Théodred say that the Gondoran loved Éomer and not her and now she stood with tears streaming from her eyes as the fantasy ended.

Boromir stood near the window, staring down upon his little brother as he silently cried on Legolas' shoulder. Aragorn and his Elven spouse had arrived an hour ago just after Boromir carried Faramir into the young man's room. Legolas had taken one look at the distraught mortal and crawled onto the bed and pulled him close and was now leaning against the headboard, humming Elvish lullabies to him.

Aragorn was next to the Sindar, holding Faramir's hand. He'd seen his cousin hurting before, his uncle very good at crushing his spirit; but this was different. Faramir was in love and the man he loves had rejected him—Aragorn could not imagine what that pain was like. He looked away from the 20-year-old's devastated violet depths to Boromir's ferocious green ones.

"I will return." Boromir said, his voice was a near growl.

Faramir said fearfully, "You are leaving me?"

The blond mortal smiled reassuringly, "Never, Pet; you are my Sweet Boy. I will always be there for you—never doubt that. I just have to go...settle a few things before we depart this place." He tenderly kissed Faramir's tremulous lips and left the room.

Boromir's guard intended to follow him, but his Lord's `no' stopped him and he watched as the murderous Steward-prince stalked down the hall.

Éowyn knocked on her brother's door three times; when there was no answer, she called out his name and then, "Please—may I come in?"

"It is open," Came the flat response. He didn't look up from his packing.

"You can not leave like this," She stated without preamble.

"Did Théodred tell you that I was going?"

"No; you did." At that he turned to face her, his brow lifting in surprise. "I overheard you and him talking—I heard everything. Well, nearly everything...Important that is."

"I never meant for you to hear any of it; but, now you know how misplaced your affections are, for he does not deserve you." He went back to his packing, putting likenesses of Éowyn and their mother inside.

"You should not think badly of him—of Faramir."

He looked in disbelief at her. "How can you defend him after the way he has treated you?"

"He has always been gentlemanly towards me and kind—as he's been to you."

"You love him and he has misled you!" He said.

"No, Éomer; he has not. Never once has he said that he loves me or indicated that we had a future. That was my doing and...And I prevailed upon you to play the matchmaker for us. It...It was a fantasy, only. A little girl's fantasy." She came over and cupped his face. "I am so sorry; had I known of your feelings for him and his for you..." She left the rest unsaid.

"It matters little now; we are not good enough for him or his precious blood." He was still bitter.

"That is not true," She said softly.

"It is true—you do not know..." He started.

"I do know and have known since I was a young girl."

"How? Whe..."

"From Grandmother Morwen. When she was a girl of twelve, she became infatuated with a young dúnadan ranger when his company came through Lossarnach, proposing to him on the spot. He told her that even if she were not 12-years-old and he 120, they would not be permitted to marry because of the Valar's Gift.

"She didn't understand it then, but later found it out and she understood. She said just as the House of Eorl is proud of its heritage, so is Númenor—and rightly so. And so do I, even though a "little girl" can dream; I guess that I am too much like Grandmother."

"I wish that I had known; I would not have wasted your time or mine." He said.

"I did not want you talking me out of my dream; but I hurt you and Faramir without meaning to."

"He will get over this...and so will I." He turned back to his task.

"But, he loves you as Boromir loves Théodred." She smirked at his shocked stare. "Do not look so surprised. I may not have known about you and Faramir, but those two have fooled no one!"

"I can not be with him—their laws..."

"Do not pertain to you. You can not bear half-Dúnedain children; that is the only reason for the law. Éomer; don't you realize how good and noble he is? I have no doubts that if he loved me, knowing that I felt the same, he would give up everything to make me his wife—regardless of what he said in the glen." She moved over to stand before him, looking up into his hazel eyes. "Do you not know that he is the kind of man who would die for those he loves? What are positions and titles compared to that?"

He looked deeply into her eyes and saw the truth of her words. In his heart, he knew that Faramir was not the kind who would play a person false; his love for Éowyn and his vow to always protect her, had blinded him to that truth. And there was another truth—his guilt for loving the man she wanted and the knowledge that Faramir returned that love kept him from declaring himself.

"What have I done? I have been such a fool!"

"Then go fix it! Go beg his forgiveness!" She laughed as he spun her around and kissed her cheek. Her bruised heart sang at the joyous (and relieved) look on his handsome face; she had missed seeing it for so long.

He sat her down and moved to the door; as he opened it, the last thing he saw was a pair of furious green eyes and a balled-up fist as it connected with face—then nothing.

His name sounded as if it was coming from far off; then there was pain on the left side of his face.

"Éomer—No, don't move; lie still." Something cool on his forehead and left cheek, then, "I do not think that it is broken, Théodred, but it will look quite nasty for sometime."

Éowyn, the Rohirric Captain recognized.

He opened his eyes and immediately closed them back as the harsh glare from candles and sconces caused pain to shoot to his aching head. "Can someone douse a few of these blasted tapers?"

"All done—how's that?" Théodred.

He peaked and found it much better. "What happened?"

"Boromir happened." Théodred said dryly.

"Where is he now?" Éomer asked, thinking that he got off lightly.

"Probably outside the door; I asked him out just before Théodred arrived."

"I have to see Faramir." He tried to get up, but soon fell back again. "Boromir hits like a cave troll; but I deserve no less. Will you ask him in, Cousin?"

"That is not wise..."

"Please? I must know how Faramir fairs—please?"

Théodred nodded and opened the door, noting that, though his lover was no longer fuming, his anger had not diminished. Stepping into the corridor, he asked, "Am I your enemy, as well?"

"That would depend on your stand in this matter," Boromir's voice was coolly neutral.

The Rohirric Prince stepped up to him and caressed his handsome face. "I love you and will until I draw my last breath upon this Earth. I have never lost faith in you nor in Faramir."

Boromir had been unconsciously holding his breath throughout, and its release following Théodred's statements expelled much of his anger—leaving only the hurt he felt for his `Little One.'

Théodred enfolded his arms around the larger man, laying his dark- blond head upon Boromir's broad shoulders. "Éomer would like to speak with you about Faramir; will you see him?"

"I will see him, but briefly." He kissed Théodred deeply, hands entangled in his long tresses, before moving towards the door.

"Be mindful of Éowyn; she understands your pain, but worries for Éomer."

"I will be considerate of her—worry not, My Love." As he entered the room, Éowyn was holding a cup to her brother's lips.

Her fearful look brought a reassuring smile to his face. "Do not fear, Dear Éowyn; I am here to talk only."

"Will you give us a moment, Sister?"

"I will not leave you..."

"Please? Boromir has given his word to talk only. I shall be fine."

She left reluctantly to join Prince Théodred in the hall.

"How...How is Faramir?"

"How is he? Why, he is quite devastated and how are, My Lord?" Boromir inquired sarcastically.

"I would like to see him—to beg his forgiveness for my harsh words."

"`Harsh words?' You have a gift of understatement, Sir. Faramir is quite strong and harsh words can upset him or cause him insult; but cruel and fallacious allegations from someone he loves wound him to his soul. You do not know my father's true nature for he keeps this hidden for the most part from Honored guests and Dignitaries, not wanting to jeopardize Gondor's interests. But when he is in...familiar company, he cares not who witnesses his displeasure and Faramir is usually the one who feels it most.

"Do you know that he blames my brother for our mother's death? She was weakened giving birth to him and when she died, any love Denethor bore for Faramir died with her. I became both Mother and Father to him, though Uncle Arathorn and Grandfather Arador cared for him, too. But grandfather was ill physically from old injuries and at heart for my mother's death and Arathorn had Aragorn.

"Can you imagine a 10-year-old being the primary source of nurturing for his 4-year-old sibling? Well, I was; but I did not mind for Faramir was a joy—My Sweet Boy. And he is still my sweet and gentle Faramir who bares ill for no one; a kind-hearted soul who loves freely and asks for nothing in return—feeling that he deserves nothing." Tears were falling freely down Boromir's face, but he did not wipe them away.

"I tried to shield him from life's harms, but I could not—not from Denethor or vile creatures such as Orcs that roam this world. But, I can keep him from further harm from you!" He laughed a mirthless laugh. "I encouraged him to tell you how he feels—that he's in love with you; but he said that you could never want him because `no one does.' He truly believes that now."

Boromir turned to go, but threw over his shoulder, "You will stay away from Faramir and you are no longer welcome in Minas Tirith. As soon as he is able to ride, I will be taking my brother from this place—never to return as long as you are here."

The door slammed, punctuating Boromir's words—words eerily similar to the ones Éomer spoke to Faramir at the White Falls. Hot tears burned his eyes and his cheeks; but his foolish pride cost him Faramir and that burned his soul.

Boromir, Legolas and Aragorn rarely left Faramir's side the next day and the next. King Théoden, Théodred and Éowyn all came to call on him, but Boromir was adamant that Éomer stay away. They nearly came to blows when the man camped outside the door, but Aragorn convinced Éomer that it would be better if did as Boromir asked. He complied when he realized that he wasn't helping Faramir, but causing him further distress.

On the third day, the Gondoran Party made to depart Meduseld. Boromir had a private farewell with Théodred and then bade King Théoden and Éowyn farewell along with his cousins and Faramir. When Éomer came near as they stood at the top of the portico, Boromir and Legolas flanked the young Steward-prince, but the pain and fear in Faramir's eyes were enough to make Éomer keep his distance.

Aragorn made the three before them welcome in the White City any time, then the Gondorans all mounted their horses and disappeared through the gates. Éomer watched continually, even when he was no longer able to see the small figures. Eventually, he went inside never noticing that dusk had fallen. He forwent dinner that evening, preferring to stand, staring about the room that held Faramir.

He picked up one of the pillows from the bed and inhaled the young man's scent, crying. This is where Éowyn found him the next morning, sitting on the floor at the foot of Faramir's bed. "I have lost him forever. How will I live now?" He looked up into her soulful blue eyes hoping for answers; what he saw surprised him. Anger.

"I never thought that I would be ashamed of you, Éomer." She had her arms folded, reminding him of Grandmother Morwen when he'd done something to displease her.

"You should be ashamed of me for what I did to Faramir."

"That is not why I'm ashamed." When he looked askance to her, confusion written upon his face, she explained. "I understand why you behaved the way you did towards Faramir—misguided though it was. But this wallowing, I do not. You know the truth now and yet you allowed the one you love to leave here without one word of apology."

"But, Boromir..."

"To the ruins of Mordor with Boromir! Boromir is behaving much as you did—protecting his sibling. Although he is justified, this is not his life's happiness. It is yours and Faramir's."

"He does not want me." Came his dejected response.

"That's what he thought about you and you are both wrong! Do not let more misunderstandings and cruel words keep you two apart. Well, don't just sit upon the cold floor like a forgotten pair of old boots—go!"

"But, what if he tells me to leave him be?"

"Then you will know. But, the real question is what if doesn't? Do you think that he would have been hurting for three days by your words if he did not love you?" She kneeled next to him, looking far wiser than her 19 years. "He deserves to hear you say that you love him. And when you apologize, make it about him and not you."

He grabbed her in a bear-like hug, nearly cutting off her air supply before jumping to his feet. A brief stop at his room to retrieve his packed bag and he was off to the stables to saddle his horse. He barely remembered tearing through the gates and the ride across the plains; all he could see was Faramir's face the morning before as he stood between Legolas and Boromir.

"You just wait, Beloved; I will make this up to you and show you my heart." His stallion answered his signal for more speed and the two made for the direction of Gondor.

Faramir smiled indulgently as Boromir, Aragorn and Legolas tried to cajole him into eating, his appetite non-existent— the very thought making him queasy.

"You've eaten barely enough to keep a bird living!" Legolas said, trying to spoon-feed him stew made of root vegetables and dried mushrooms.

Any other time, the smell would have been appealing, but now, nothing appealed to him. "I am not hungry, Meldomelin (dear friend)."

"Well, at least eat some fruit or one of these pastries Fréawyn made especially for you," The elf tried.

"I could always give you one of my herb teas, Cousin Mine; and not the sweet one you fancy, but the other I gave you last year when you lay abed with a chest cold!" Aragorn threatened, only half jokingly.

Boromir chuckled at the horrified look on his brother's face. "Sounds delightful, Little Brother."

The Gondoran took the pastry, nibbling it to appease his overprotective relations, not wanting to tempt Aragorn into fixing that fowl-tasting tea for him. As he ate, Boromir and Aragorn walked away to discuss tomorrow's travel, and Legolas moved behind Faramir and wrapped his arms around the man's shoulder as he eat his food.

He started to sing, laying his blond head right next to Faramir's auburn-locked one. "You spoil me, Lovely `Las; but I would not have you, Aragorn or Boromir worry so."

"You are worth it, Lovely Fara'—for we adore you, so."

Faramir's face became mischievous as he, said, "You will make as good a mother as any Prince-bride ever did."

"Such impudence! You do not deserve vile teas, you need one of Boromir's great punishments—merciless tickling! Come here, Boromir, Aragorn; this child must be tickled!"

They both heard and ran quickly to carry out his `punishment.' "Take his neck just at the collarbone; the waist is yours, Boromir and the feet are mine!" Aragorn laughed as he reached to remove his boots.

Faramir giggled like a little boy as his tormentors descended. "Maglor, my friend—help!" Faramir's personal guard laughed.

"Yes, My Lord; I shall help—I find just behind the knees to be most vulnerable." The gray-eyed Ranger informed.

"Thank you, Maglor," Aragorn told him, abandoning the booted foot he'd held.

"Scoundrel!" Faramir laughed

Legolas froze, turning his head aside. Aragorn, ever attuned to his spouse's moods, inquired, "What is it, Mela?"

"I hear thundering hoof beats; someone approaches." Helping Faramir to sit up from his position across the elf-Prince's lap, Legolas moved to the edge of the hill where they camped and peered into the valley. "From the design of his garments and horse's raiment, this rider is from Rohan."

"Éomer." Faramir whispered, both fearing and hoping.

"Can you see who it is, Legolas? Though, I feel I know already," Boromir said angrily. "Why does he not leave my brother be? I warned him," This last through clinched teeth.

Faramir went back to sit where he and Legolas had been—sitting heavily against the ground. He didn't know what to think or to feel and he cursed his traitorous heart that longed to look upon that beloved face of the Third Marshal of the Riddermark. Legolas came back to sit with him, cradling as before and after a while, the passage of time meant little to Faramir.

Éomer saw the guards and he recognized Boromir's and Aragorn's physiques from afar. As he mounted the hill encampment, the hostility, not only from his former friends, but from the Dúnedain Rangers that were escorting them chilled him to his bones; but he refused to let it (or them) keep him from seeing Faramir.

As he dismounted, Boromir confronted the Rohirric Prince. "You will mount your horse and go back from whence you came!"

"I will; but after I have spoken with Faramir."

"No. Now—or you will feel more than my fist! I warned you to keep away and I meant it."

"I know you did; and were I in your place, it would be the same. But, this concerns Faramir and me. I will speak my piece and if he wishes me gone, then I will go—not before." Éomer said respectfully, but firmly.

The green-eyed Gondoran made to eject him, but Faramir's hand on his forearm stopped him. "I will hear what he has to say."

"No, Little One..."

"It is alright, Love—I will hear him out." Faramir said gently.

"I will not leave you." His brother said, looking deeply into Faramir's eyes.

"I know—you never have. I will be fine," He smiled bravely. "Just give us a few moments?"

Boromir nodded then looked pointedly at Éomer. "I will be just over there—watching." He left to join his cousins and Maglor and the other Rangers not standing guard—Faramir was well-protected.

Now that he was there before Faramir, words failed him; so he drank in the sight of the beautiful young man instead.

Faramir's violet-blue eyes dropped to the ground under the scrutiny— not used to this from Éomer.

"I was—am—a fool. You did not deserve my cruelty and I am sorry for hurting you so; and I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I will ask it only to show you how repentant I am." He stepped a bit closer to Faramir and saw him flinch briefly in response.

"If...If that is all that you require, then I will accept your apology. Perhaps...we can be friends again—someday." Faramir made to turn away, but Éomer spoke, and he faced the man once more.

"That is not all, Faramir. I...I wish to tell you something...something that I should have long ago. I thought that as a good brother, I should step aside when I saw Éowyn's love for you; but, I failed to ask if she was what you wanted. But that is not what's important. What is important is that I...have loved you from the very moment I first set eyes upon you. I my heart rejoiced at your first smile and my soul melted the first time I heard your laughter. You are as the sun and the moon to me; your are my breath and my heart's beat and I will go to my grave loving you." He took a deep breath, "That is what I wanted to tell you. I will leave now; thank you for hearing me out, Sweet Faramir. Farewell." He mounted his horse and left the camp, making his way down the hill.

Faramir was stunned—too stunned to move at first. He looked to his brother and cousins. Boromir's gaze was conflicted, but after a time, he smiled, then nodded at Faramir. Faramir turned and ran after Éomer, stopping briefly on the edge of the hilltop before running down the slope, never considering taking his horse.

Éomer moved slowly across the grassy plains, tears streaming down his handsome face, blinding him. His sobs and the horse's clip-clop were all that he heard—at first. He felt that his mind was playing tricks on him when he first heard his name being called; but then the desperate, sad tone made him stop. Faramir?

He turned to see the young man running after him. Now I am seeing things, he thought. As the figure drew closer, he cried out in joy as he jumped from his steed, running the rest of the way to Faramir.

As they closed the gap, it was like a dream to both; especially when Éomer grabbed the smaller framed man and scooped him up, spinning him much the same as he'd done with Éowyn before he met with Boromir's fist.

Faramir's head felt light and giddy; some from his adrenalin rush as he ran, but mostly from having Éomer's strong arms around him. They held to each other for a long time, but then the blond man sat Faramir on the ground and stepped back just enough to look into the young Gondoran's eyes, assuring himself that the man was actually there before him, in his arms.

"Are you real? Are you truly here?" Éomer asked in awe.

"I am. What...What you said back there—you truly love me?" He was still unsure.

"I truly do love you more than words can reveal and actions can show— but I'd like to use both to convince you." He took Faramir's lovely face between his hands, thumbs caressing his cheeks and brought their lips together for the first time. It was a tentative exploring with closed mouths, but then the older man's tongue grazed along Faramir's bottom lip, tasting.

Faramir moaned against Éomer's mouth, parting his lips which gave the Rohirric Marshal the encouragement to deepen the kiss, their tongues meeting in a sweet hello. Faramir's knees became weak, never having been kissed like this before; but Éomer's strong arms held him up. They soon had to break the kiss for want of air, but the blond kissed his cheeks, eyes, ears and every part he could reach, not willing to cease adoring this beautiful man in his arms.

"Come back to Meduseld with me—let me show you how much I love you. I wish to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much!"

"I...I don't know. What of Éowyn—I do not wish to cause her pain." Faramir said uncertainly.

"Worry not for Éowyn; she knows how we feel about each other. She is the one who made me see how foolish I had been and she will be happy to know that you love me still." Éomer kissed him again making that giddy feeling come back.

When he could talk again, Faramir said dazedly, "We must inform my kin—Boromir may object."

"Then you should ask him, for here they come." Éomer indicated, causing Faramir to look over his shoulder. From the looks of it, they had broken camp, pack horses carrying their belongings.

As they came to a stop near the new lovers, Boromir stated, "I am guessing we make for the Golden Hall." When he saw the tentative look on Faramir's face, he smiled, saying, "It is alright, Dear One; I am looking forwards to seeing Théodred again."

Faramir's happy smile made Boromir's breath catch and he watched as Éomer helped Faramir atop his horse, climbing up behind him then turning his steed towards home.

Aragorn asked Boromir, "Are you alright, Cousin?"

"I will be; but if he so much as harm a hair on my Sweet Boy's head, I know of some Olog-hai trolls that will be most happy to feast upon his bones!" He was only half joking, planning a painful end to Éomer if he stepped out of line again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Faramir was nervous. He and Éomer had been spending hours upon hours together talking, riding and dancing even. They loved each other deeply and two nights ago before his family and friends, Éomer declared his love for Faramir and then he dropped to one knee and proposed marriage to him before all.

And Faramir said yes.

Now, Faramir stood in his bedchamber staring at himself in a mirror. He had asked Éomer to come to his room; that there was something that he wished to ask of him. Éomer seemed concerned, but replied, "Of course, My Love."

He ran a comb through his auburn waves and checked his robe. It was his favorite dressing gown, the same color as his eyes; it had been a birthday gift from Boromir. But he forwent the matching nightshirt and was totally naked beneath.

"What will he think of you?" Faramir nearly sent for Maglor, sending him to go tell Éomer that he would see him in the morning. But then, thought better of it. Éomer loves you and he desires you.

Faramir squared his shoulders and walked over to the table where he had an open bottle of wine and two goblets, lighting a candle there. Next, he approached the bed; as he fluffed the pillows, he jumped at the knock at his door. Peering quickly into the mirror once more, he opened the door to see an equally nervous Éomer standing there.

"Welcome, My Love; please come in." The taller man entered and Faramir whispered something to his guard who smiled knowingly as he moved to the hall's end, making Faramir blush.

"Would...Would you care for some wine?" The Gondoran offered.

"Of course." Éomer's nervousness was abating as he took in the Faramir's clothing and the many candles about the room as well as the turned-down bed. As he sipped his wine, asked mock seriously, "Are you planning to seduce me, Faramir?"

The younger man's eyes flew to Éomer's hazel ones fearfully, thinking that he'd made a mistake—not recognizing his betrothed's teasing. "I am sorry...I thought...I thought..." His voice trailed away in shame, fearing he'd insulted Éomer.

Éomer was contrite and pulled Faramir into his arms. "No, Love—I am sorry; I should not be teasing you. I am so flattered and pleased. I have wanted to be with you, but did not have the courage to ask, thinking that you'd prefer to wait until we marry."

"You want me?"

"Why do sound so surprised? You are so beautiful and desirous and you make me want to do both good and wicked things with you." He kissed him to show him just how much he desired Faramir.

"Make love to me, Éomer; I want to feel you inside of me." Faramir said breathlessly.

"There is no place that I'd rather be, but are you sure?" He was touching Faramir's face as if it were a delicate butterfly.

"I am very sure." Faramir pulled Éomer's head close and kissed the man deeply, gently exploring his mouth. As the kiss deepened, Éomer's hands roamed about Faramir's slender frame, his eyes opening briefly as he realized that only Faramir's robe stood as barrier to his questing hands.

"Oh, Love—I want you so!" Éomer growled as he felt his loves arousal beneath the thin gown. "I am wearing too many clothes—and so are you!" Éomer said playfully and he began to remove his clothes.

When he stood in just his pants, he embraced Faramir, holding him close and kissing his temple. My Love, have you ever...ever done...this before?"

"I have kissed briefly; nothing as deeply as you kiss me. There have been some boyhood explorations, but I have not... given myself nor taken another." Faramir blushed as he finished speaking.

"Worry not, Lovely One; I will be most gentle with you. But—I will not lie; there will be some pain at first."

"I trust you," Faramir said as he laid his head on Éomer's shoulder. Éomer pulled back to stare deeply into his love's violet- blue eyes and saw the trust there, feeling like the most blessed man in Middle-earth.

He took Faramir by the hand and led him to the bed, and he watched as the younger man began un-tying his robe. Then Éomer helped him un-do the toggles that held the garment closed, marveling at the beauty of Faramir's nearly hairless form.

The garment pooled at Faramir's bare feet as it fell from his shoulders. Éomer whispered, "So very, very lovely." Faramir smiled while stepping backwards, first sitting on the bed, then he next laid down, holding out his hand for Éomer to join him.

Never wanting to refuse Faramir anything, Éomer lay next to him, reverently touching his skin, before devouring the Gondoran's mouth in a soul-stirring kiss. He broke the kiss and buried his face at Faramir's neck, nibbling him there before moving onto his chest; he nipped and licked the smooth skin, following his questing lips with his fingers—Faramir's taut flesh warm and trembling. "Mmmm...sooo good," Éomer groaned.

Faramir arched his back as his lover took an erect nipple into his mouth, nipping pleasurably on the dark-pink nub. As Éomer traveled from one peak to the other, Faramir's hands ran through the man's long blond hair, pulling his mouth closer to his toned chest.

Éomer suckled hard, ravishing the pebbled nub in his hot mouth, his fingers caressing as he pulled Faramir more firmly beneath him. His clothed member rubbed enticingly against Faramir naked shaft making the younger man groan from the friction there as he continued to be ravished by Éomer's tongue and teeth at his heaving chest.

Éomer finally released the peak, giving it one last swipe of his tongue, before he moved up to capture Faramir's sweet lips, parted and gasping. His tongue plunged deeply, forcing its way down his throat; the organ inside meeting his more experienced one in a loving duel. Faramir's hands cupped Éomer's face, pushing him slightly away, breathing hard. He looked deeply into Éomer's hazel depths and, whispered, "Make me yours, Éomer—I need you desperately."

The Rohirric Prince nodded and kissed him briefly before moving away from his new lover to remove his last piece of clothing. Faramir gazed in awe at Éomer's handsome frame and impressive cock, hard and dripping, making Faramir tremble with desire and a little fear. Kissing him briefly on his lips, Éomer moved to nuzzle Faramir on his soft throat, then the side of his neck beneath the fall of soft hair where the shoulder and neck met. His hands also moved on, caressing smooth, firm sides, down to finely muscled hips and thighs, pushing the limbs apart as he put himself between them, causing the body under him to tremble anew.

Éomer 's strong hands hooked under Faramir's knees, pushing them back, exposing the flesh of his inner thighs and vulnerable nether region; his bearded face rubbed against the soft skin, cheeks and chin lightly abrading before lips and tongue tasted Faramir's virgin flesh. Faramir's lovely scent assaulted his senses as his mouth nuzzled the organs nestled between his thighs, the swollen shaft and sacs enticing him to feast. Éomer was no stranger to love between males, so he had no trouble taking Faramir's column, firm and leaking into his mouth.

The exquisite pleasure caused Faramir's body to arch again, this time forcing the tumescence deeper as the warm cavern suckled roughly, drinking the fluid seeping from the inexperienced body, the rough tongue molding itself to the hard flesh as Faramir reached his peak.

Éomer was impossibly hard as he swallowed the last of the Faramir's sweet essences and he desperately needed to find his release, too. Releasing the spent organ, he took the legs still held firmly in his grasp and forced them further apart, then stated, "I will need some oil to ease the way."

Blushing, Faramir admitted, "I...I put some there on the table beside the bed—under the cloth."

"You thought of everything," Then teasing, "You must have known how easy I'd be?" He chuckled as he found the vial of oil and taking out the stopper, he poured some into his hand, coating his fingers liberally.

He took Faramir's legs and pushed them apart, draping each one over his shoulders; then he parted the firm globes hovering above the sheets. He ran his oiled finger along the crease between until he found the puckered entrance. Faramir's young body froze when one finger touched his virgin entrance, the puckered opening tightening against the unfamiliar probing.

"Easy, Lover; I must prepare you for me. I will be as gentle as possible, I promise you." At Faramir's tremulous smile, he circled the tight aperture, before pushing carefully to gain entrance, slicking the walls as he went. When one digit went in easily, he added a second finger, scissoring the opening to stretch it so that a third could be added just to be sure.

When he was sure that Faramir was ready, he took his swollen flesh in his hand and rubbed his length with the oil and his own emissions; he then placed the large head of his swollen member to the opening, then pushed inside his lover's body. As he went deeper, the tight passage contracted in pain, causing Faramir to cry out. Stopping briefly, the Éomer whispered soothing words of regret before kissing his lover's gasping mouth, tasting Faramir's salty tears. Éomer's hand moved between their bodies, stroking his lover's cock, bringing it to arousal again.

As the body before him began thrusting in his fist and the kiss deepened, Éomer resumed his forward motion, the hot tunnel impossibly tight until he breached the guardian ring of muscle, becoming fully sheathed in the tight heat. A pained whimper reached his ears before being followed by a moan of pleasure as he hit the tiny bundle of nerves inside the untried channel. Wanting to hear that sound again, Éomer aimed and struck the spot over and over again, the body rising to meet him thrust for thrust before screaming out—the Steward-prince finding his release for the second time that night.

As the smaller man bucked and writhe in pleasure, his entrance gripped Éomer almost painfully, milking his plunging shaft, undoing him until he too reached his climax, hot fluids surrounding him inside the grasping body. He smiled against Faramir's mouth; then, satisfied and sated, he released Faramir's slender thighs from his broad shoulders.

Faramir sighed in regret when Éomer's soften member slipped free of his body, feeling empty and less whole until Éomer pulled him close to his broader form, wrapping him in loving arms. "You make me very happy, Éomer and I love you with all my heart and soul."

"And I love you as well, with all my heart and soul." They kissed again until the need to breathe forced them apart. "What was the name of the tailor?" At Faramir's confused look, he clarified, "The one that offered to design Legolas' weeding raiment?"

"I forget—why?"

"I think that I will have him design yours." Éomer's look turned dreamy as he said, "Gossamer lace and seedling pearls sounds lovely. Do you not think so?"

"Just what are you about, Éomer?" Faramir inquired, laughing.

"Aragorn is not the only one with a beautiful spouse and you will be my Prince-bride!" Éomer didn't see the pillow before it hit him in the face (the unbruised side).

He retaliated by pinning Faramir down and tickling him, knowing how susceptible the Gondoran was to this. "Will you be my Prince-bride?"

"Yes—yes! Whatever you say, please!" Éomer thrilled at the sight of Faramir's delighted face.

"Then I say that you are beautiful and I will love you—forever."

"Forever and ever..." Faramir echoed.

And a kiss sealed it.

Fin

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