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This story is rated «NC-17», and carries the warnings «angst, AU, character death».
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Oubliette (NC-17)
Written by Kissa05 September 2007 | 779 words
Title: Oubliette
Author: Kissa
Rating: NC17 for extreme angst
Warning: AU, Character death
Pairing: Faramir/Éomer
Summary: Faramir and Éomer have admitted to their love in a homophobic Gondor. As evil creeps into their lives, it is once again proven that happy endings are for romance novels alone.
AN: My darkest fic yet. I am appalled by what came out through my fingers in only 7 minutes. But I had to exorcise something, it seems.
Note: there will be an alternate, happy ending, which I will reveal along with my 25 fluffy fics.
Archivist’s Note: That a happy-ended version is Last Moment Rescue.
An oubliette was a form of dungeon which was accessible only from a hatch in a high ceiling. To exit an oubliette was nearly impossible without outside help. The word comes from the French oublier, “to forget,” as it was used for those prisoners the captors wished to forget. Most prisoners were left to die of starvation.
(from wikipedia)
In the darkness, he lay on cold hard rock and cried, curled like a babe in his mother’s womb. Only now there was no one protecting him, he was left alone, everyone having turned their back on him.
They had caught him straddling a battered, barely alive Faramir, and they had accused him at once, for each and every small cut , graze and bruise on his mate’s body.
He blamed himself as well. He had not been there to protect Faramir against whatever had done that to him. And for that alone, he was going to take the blame and accept whatever punishment they would give him. He would have let himself be crucified or ripped apart by hungry wargs, as long as he could look into Faramir’s blue eyes again, as long as his beloved woke up.
Day by day, night by night, he mindlessly pleaded with whoever weaved the fates of men, to save Faramir. He no longer hoped anyone would believe him – they had not even asked him about his own version of the events!
And bit by bit , the flicker of his spirit died away, leaving behind an empty shell which would soon perish as well from the deprivation of food, water, light and sensory stimulation of any kind.
When the hatch to his cell finally opened, the light blinded him and he could not see the tall slender man who had come to free him. He could not tell it was Faramir himself, who had recovered and had pointed an accusing finger at Gríma who had come to take away what Éomer held dearest, his beloved mate. Faramir had somehow survived and although he had taken a long time to regain his strength, he had immediately got to the bottom of the crime, indicating his assailant and catching him himself… and then he had asked Gandalf where Éomer was, why he wasn’t there watching over him to see him awake… And Gandalf had looked away in shame.
No one had dared to tell him of the terrible mistake they’d made.
No one had dared to help him pull Éomer out of the hellhole.
He had cried until there were no more tears left to flow for the pain of his beloved.
Like a rabid dragon, sweet shy Faramir had roared his anger at them, chasing them away and holding on to a shivering, maddened creature in which Éomer could barely be recognized.
He wept as he saw Éomer lie there, catatonic, as he bathed him and treated his infected whip marks and rat bites, eyes unfocused and dead. But he never lost hope, not even after months of caring for the man who meant the world to him.
And one day, Éomer’s eyes became focused and he smiled at his love. With a voice raspy from lack of use he said:
“Faramir, love, you live.”
Faramir ran to him and could no longer leave his side, their reunion far too intense for the both of them to notice their other needs.
That night, bathed in the sweet silver moonlight, they made love for the first time since they had admitted their love to each other and to the world around them.
And as the last of his passion was spent and Faramir stilled inside of him, the light in Éomer’s eyes went out.
Faramir exhausted himself that night building the pyre, bathing Éomer and dressing him in his kingly clothes, laying him onto the pyre and setting the torch at the base.
With a last look back to the White City which had cast the dark veil over all he had ever loved, Faramir joined Éomer into the flames.
~end~
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Heart achingly beautiful and passionate! 7 minutes? We call it a story “told within one breath”.
— dream.in.a.jar Thursday 6 September 2007, 14:06 #