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An Unexpected Visitor (PG) Print

Written by J_Flattermann

15 April 2012 | 4807 words

Author: j_flattermann
Pairing: Éomer/Faramir, Boromir
Genre: Slash
Rating: PG (so far for violence, subject to change)
Word Count: 1542
Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. Written for fun and foxrafer’s birthday. All characters belong to the Tolkien estate. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: Sequel to Stealing Time. Faramir stumbles into Éomer in Aldburg.


Part 1

Éomer held Faramir in his arms very tenderly not to re-open the wounds again. He kissed the sleepers forehead and wiped sweat stained strands of hair out of his face.

Two hours ago a fatigued Faramir had collapsed into his arms and the smell of blood had Éomer alarmed instantaneously. He had pulled Faramir back onto his feet but when he withdrew his right arm, keeping the young Gondorian steady with his left, he spotted the blood on his hand and sleeve.

To Aid! I need the healer! Immediately!“ He had bellowed his commands and his team of trusted men had responded without hesitation or questions asked.

Love paired with worry was written over the Marshal of the Eastmark’s face. “Who ever did this to you …” He whispered but Faramir had shushed him, placing his index finger on Éomer’s plump lips. “Please. No.” Faramir more or less breathed out the two words before darkness and a pair of strong arms engulfed him.


Éomer had been furious. That letter from Mundburg demanding the immediate return of the ruling steward’s youngest son was nothing but impertinent. He was glad that it wasn’t his duty to respond. As soon as Faramir had stumbled over his threshold Éomer had informed his uncle. Théoden King had responded very sympathetic and allowed Éomer to take care of the wounded young man. A few days later the King of Rohan had paid a visit to the patient and his sister-son at Éomer’s headquarters in Aldburg. After he had evaluated the situation the king had ordered a scribe and dictated a letter address to Denethor to let him know that Faramir was in Aldburg being treated for some severe injuries.

Now the response had arrived strangely enough addressed to Éomer. He had informed his uncle again. Still angry he greeted his uncle and handed over the letter. Éomer sighed as he saw the colour change on his uncle’s face. However, he knew that Théoden would reply in a moderate fashion to this Gondorian insolence.

This of course would put a further strain to the relationship between the two peoples. A relationship once founded on friendship and trust but now gone sour since Denethor had taken up office as Ruling Steward of Gondor.

However, Théoden King’s reply had been formulated in a polite but firm fashion. Stating that the young Gondorian had suffered such severe injuries that he was currently in no state to make the long travel back to Mundburg. For sake of a full recovery the young man would remain in Aldburg as guest to his sister-son the Third Marshal of Rohan, under whose care he, Théoden King, placed the son of the Ruling Steward.

At first Mundburg’s reply to the second letter was that they insisted on one of their own healers to treat Faramir in Aldburg. However, an unexpected attack on Osgiliath required the attention of all Gondorian healers in Minas Tirith. So the plan was dropped.

Faramir remained in the care of the Rohirrim. Éomer was relieved to hear and gave his healer instructions to take as much time as possible for the treatment to make sure that Faramir was fully recovered and in good strength. This way he knew that this will not only give Faramir a chance to proper heal but also keeps him out of harms way. Apart from that Éomer had his own agenda with Faramir as soon as he would be better.


Éomer spent most of the days at the bed side of Faramir. In fact he did not leave him for a minute very much causing complaints from his own healer, moaning that Éomer is constantly in the way.

But Éomer was not to be moved. “Faramir’s welfare is my responsibility.‘” He said firmly. “It became my responsibility the moment he stumbled into Eorlseld. And I shall make sure that he receives the best of care and treatment.”

Of course there was much more to his refusal to leave the young Gondorian to his healer. What he urged to find out was why Faramir had ended up at his doorstep bleeding from several deep cuts on his back.

Éomer remembered the time he had spent together with the young Captain of Gondor who now lay pale and hurting. The days he had managed to drag Faramir away from his insulting father. But then he had no recollection of Faramir being maltreated or even tortured. He had to find out who was behind this viscous attack and why Faramir had been tormented in the first place.


Actually Éomer was contemplating to get a message to Boromir currently fighting in Osgiliath. But Théoden King had advised him against. “This is a Gondorian internal affair. Bad enough that we are drawn into this. We will leave that matter for Gondor to solve. Faramir has stumbled into Aldburg and it is our duty to make sure he is treated well and recovers. We can’t afford trouble with Mundburg. Not in this uncertain times. Boromir will find out soon enough when Faramir is back in Gondor.”

The king had made his position clear and with a deep sigh left for Edoras. He was glad that Théodred, his own flesh and blood had finished his education in Gondor and was now stationed at the Hornburg.

Faramir’s absence from Minas Tirith had become known and soon reached Boromir’s ear. Boromir immediately made enquiries on his own about the whereabouts of his baby brother. At first he had received contradicting reports. So he had his own men set out to find out the truth behind Faramir’s disappearance.

The men reported back that Faramir was currently recovering form a strange illness and treated for it in Aldburg.

Boromir had been fuming with anger on the response. What kind of rubbish was this? Why should Faramir go to Aldburg or being sent there for medical treatment if they had their own house of healing in Minas Tirith. This all made no sense at all.

Meanwhile Faramir grew stronger with each passing week but every time Gondor made enquiries they were told that the progress of the Ruling Steward’s youngest was slow. The Rohirrim healer made excuses as to why Faramir was not able to make the journey home.

Utterly unsatisfied with the incoming reports, Boromir mounted his horse and rode out to Aldburg. He needed to see for himself what was going on. On arrival he was greeted by Éomer. Boromir’s anger grew again and was matched by Éomer’s cynicism.

On Boromir’s request to see his brother immediately, Éomer raised an eyebrow and left the room. He kept Boromir waiting for half an hour before returning.

“He is willing to see you now. However, he is still very weak due to the amount of blood he has lost. So make it brief.” Éomer snarled.

At first Boromir thought he would explode right into the face of this arrogant child warrior. But Éomer mentioning vast loss of blood made him grow pale. This wasn’t about a mysterious illness. Faramir had been wounded. Boromir was determined to find out what really had happened to his brother.


Despite Boromir’s hopes Éomer did not leave the room whilst he was visiting his brother. Faramir look very weak and pale with his back propped up against the cushions.

Boromir had given Éomer his famous look which had other men trembling, crumbling but the youngling had guts and simply crossed his arms before his chest but not giving Boromir an inch.

The young Rohirrim had stood his ground. Boromir sensed that the young Marshal of the Eastmark was trying to protect Faramir. Boromir couldn’t get his mind around from what.

Éomer on the other hand witnessed the worry and love Boromir felt for his younger sibling. On this grounds the Rohirrim changed the behaviour toward Boromir and found the older brother changed as well.

Faramir soon showed signs of exhaustion and drifted off into sleep. Boromir had tried to get behind the incident that had let to his brother stumbling onto Éomer’s doorstep in a blood soaked shirt and in need of urgent medical treatment. But Faramir had blocked, shut him out.

Refused point blank to co-operate.

The refusal to give away who had obviously either tortured or tried to kill Faramir, came as a shock and surprise to Boromir.

Never before had Faramir shut him out. His head falling down onto his chest Boromir stood in the corridor outside Faramir’s sickbay. He shrugged signalling defeat to Éomer. “Has he said anything at all? Anything to you?” Boromir asked but got only the shaking of the head as a reply.

Boromir sighed.

He had his suspicion. But he would need time, for it would take him some time to get behind what had really befallen Faramir. But he would get to the bottom of this and unearth the truth.

“I cant have him come to Minas Tirith. Not as long as I don’t know who attacked him and the culprits are dealt with.” Éomer simply nodded again. “I will keep him safe as long as it takes.” Was the Rohirrim’s reply.

Part 2

Éomer held his promise to keep Faramir out of harms way to his best abilities. It was Boromir who struggled to keep his part of the bargain. And so time went by with not one word from Mundburg about a development on finding the tormentors of the young Gondorian. Of course Éomer knew that Boromir was distracted fighting off a bunch of let loose Orcs which tried to overrun Osgiliath and therefore was occupied.

However with Faramir growing stronger each day and his wounds almost completely healed it became harder and harder for the Third Marshal of the Riddermark to explain why his guest was not able to return to his own home.

Strangely enough it wasn’t pressure from Mundburg that troubled Éomer. No, the Gondorians seemed to have him utterly forgotten. It was Faramir himself who grew restless. Hearing about the onslaught of Orc companies he urged to go to fight side by side with his older brother.

Éomer had to use a trick to keep the young man from running off to the frontline of the battle. The Rohirrim knew that Boromir would not appreciate if he was to face not only the battle but also his brother. Having to keep him safe in the madness of the fight.


“I have given my word not to let you leave unless you are fully healed and fit enough to face the perils of a fight.” Éomer said to the impatient Faramir. Pulling the young Gondorian to his chest stroking his sweat covered chest. Faramir was still suffering from nightmares and even Éomer’s presence would not ease the troubled mind. Éomer propped against the cushions ran his hand through Faramir’s tousled hair. “I will go with you on the training ground today and then we see how well you are.”

Éomer had a plan. He knew this would work. So he smiled down at the Gondorian snuggled up in his arms. Faramir had rested his head on Éomer’s chest shivered. He would never get used to the cold in Aldburg. He cocked his head to look at the younger man who still held him wrapped in his arms. “OK. And I will prove you that I am fully healed. You must see that my place is at my brother’s side. I have sworn to defend Minas Tirith and Gondor. I can’t remain here whilst my people facing such danger and my arm is required to defend.”

Éomer leaned forward and kissed Faramir gently. He only too well knew. He himself shared this feelings of duty and his heart was full of love and adoration for the young Gondorian Captain. But he had given his word and his honour demanded to keep it at all costs.

Of course his uncle had learnt of Boromir’s visit and request and had allowed it as long as Éomer would not risk an open break with Gondor. But Théoden King knew his nephew well and trusted him despite his young age. Éomer would never risk the safety of the Mark. He was much to attached to his home.


The early spring air was still crisp and old in the morning and Faramir could see his breath clouding up before his nose and mouth. Another shiver ran over his body. He compared his outfit to Éomer’s and shook his head. He was wearing mittens and a thick cloak over his uniform and still he was shivering with cold. Éomer on the other hand only wore a leather tunic and his breeches of soft buckskin. The steam billowed from his heated body as he slash the training dummy on the field.

“You will get warm if you pick up training.” The Captain of the Eorlingas of the Eastmark had said, carrying on wielding his blade. Every muscle in Faramir’s body screamed in protestation when he reached for the broad sword Éomer had provide for his training.

Éomer tried hard to concentrate on his practise and not to smirk or laugh out loud as Faramir struggled to lift up the sword. Éomer had fetched the heaviest of broad swords the Aldburg arsenal held. It had belonged to one of the great warriors of the Éothéod, Fram the dragon slayer.

Fram was known to have been a very tall man of sturdy build and many a warrior had tried to yield his weapon but faltered. A very young Éomer however had been very ambitious and therefore had secretly trained with the weapon. Which meant that now that he was much older he handled the great sword with an easiness that even surpassed his thirteen years older cousins skills.

As expected and planned by the young Eorlinga Faramir struggled to even lift the sword off the ground. Struggling with the effort sweat pearled from his forehead. Finally he shrugged admitting defeat. “It seems that the wounds and the long treatment has weakened you, my friend.” Éomer said. “So let us start with exercises to build your strength. But I am sure that you can see now why I can’t let you go. Especially as I have promised your brother to only allow you to leave Aldburg when you are fully restored to your abilities.”


The weeks passed by and the Gondorians received regular reports that the patient had taken up a light training. However, the healer stressed that there was still a weakness in the young Gondorian’s limbs that would not allow him to stay up all day long.

Fact was that Faramir was more than capable to stay up on his feet and Éomer struggled to keep him at Eorlseld. When his uncle paid another visit he enquired after the patient. Éomer shrugged and confessed up to his troubles. “I promised Boromir to keep him until he had discovered who was trying to harm Faramir. Only Boromir is not coming back with his part of the bargain and I am struggling to keep Faramir in Aldburg. I’m at a loss, uncle.” Théoden King embraced his young nephew. “I told you not to meddle with Gondorian affairs. Now you see why. Whilst you have stuck to honour and kept your word. The brother of your patient couldn’t care enough to keep his given word.”

Éomer couldn’t believe this. Not after he had seen the care and worry in Boromir’s eyes. But time was against him as well. His uncle’s visit had not been one of courtesy but rather to give him his marching orders. If Osgiliath was to fall. It was feared that the Orc forces would over run Gondor. Éomer’s orders were to secure the long border of the Eastmark. Éomer watched his uncle leave for Edoras. Dark thoughts filled his mind. If he had to leave Aldburg there was no reason for Faramir to stay behind. Gondor certainly would insist on Faramir to return to Minas Tirith. He had hoped to hear from Boromir. Now it was too late.


Boromir frowned. The trouble in Osgiliath had kept him from Minas Tirith for the last months. Of course he had his spies a group of trusted former soldiers in the White City but still all their reports had come back leading to nothing.

Only one thing was revealed. Faramir had been attacked to be killed. The attackers had failed to make it look like a robbery however. His brother had managed to fend off the attacker he faced but a second offender had stabbed him with a knife int the back several times. The attack had taken place whilst Faramir was on his way to the guard house. Strangely enough non of the guards seemed to have heard or seen anything.

The enquiries always had hit a dead end no matter where Boromir or his men had directed their investigation. An old nursemaid of Faramir who had signalled that she wanted to tell something she had observed was found dead the next day. The healers had announced her death as unsuspicious as she had been very old.

Boromir began to worry. This plot was more serious than he had suspected. Only a very influential person was able to pull of such an attack and get away with it. He knew that his initial suspicion seemed not so far off anymore. At the same tim if he was right there was nothing he could do to protect his brother but to try to arrange for Faramir to leave Minas Tirith.

When Éomer’s notice arrived he was hard pressed. He hadn’t achieved anything. His brother would be send back to Minas Tirith and be facing the same threat again. There was only one possibility.

Pulling out a piece of paper Boromir sat down to write a petition.


“You are not a great help, my love.” Éomer complaint but Faramir shook his head. “I am not going to say anything. It would only mean that I would endanger Boromir and you. As long as you are not in the know you are safe, both.” Faramir knew that the fact that Éomer or Boromir had learnt who had tried to kill him would immediately observed and not only would they dare another attempt on him but also on his brother and the man he loved.

“Please, love. Please you must understand.” He pleaded and reaching out wrapped his arms around Éomer. “I can’t afford to put you or Boromir to harm. You have to promise me that you are not pursuing this. Please, promise me.” Éomer struggled. How could he allow his lover to go back to a city where his life was under attack. Where he had no means to protect him. Boromir had written, expressing defeat. He had however explained that he had petitioned his father begging for Faramir to lead reinforcement troops to Osgiliath.

This request had been granted. The order had even extended and Faramir was ordered to report first in Minas Tirith to take the troops out to replenish his brother’s ranks. But then he was to carry on and take a small band of men to build an outpost in North Ithilien. Now Boromir and Faramir had been to North Ithilien before but couldn’t think a place despite Cair Andros. It was Éomer who suggested a cave called the Window of the Sunset, Henneth Annûn.

Faramir took his leave from Éomer. “I will build a fortress on Cair Andros but I shall remember and explore the Window of the Sunset. It shall be my hideout in need of peril. My heart is sad to leave you for I cannot say when I may see you again.”

Éomer kissed Faramir tenderly. “Love, I shall not be far, as my uncle sends me to protect the East Mark. I will send you a message as soon as I reached the land north of the mouth of the Entwash. If you remember the Window of the Sunset, so shall I and we will meet there as long as our duties binds us. You to North Ithilien and me to East Emnet.”

Faramir embraced his young lover, kissed him. “I shall look out for you then.” He said.

Éomer was still very troubled watching Faramir mount up and ride out of Aldburg. Suddenly he wished he and Faramir were already up North, despite them being in imminent reach of the enemy.

‘I only wished we would have found out, who was trying to harm you.’ He spoke to himself. ‘I only wished I could ride out with you. Be by your side until you reach Osgiliath and your brother’s protection.’

Éomer sighed deeply. In a week time he hoped to meet with Faramir again. ‘May the gods and the great ancestors be watching over you until we meet.’


With worry in his heart Faramir proceeded to Minas Tirith. He was on high alert and hoped to leave as soon as possible. His orders had been clear. Collect the reinforcement troops and proceed to Osgiliath to leave the troops with Boromir. Then take the group of his own men, the Rangers, to North Ithilien to create an outpost.

But as soon as he arrived in Minas Tirith he was told that he should report to his father. Faramir had hoped to avoid to meet with his father but could not disobey the direct order to report. So he told the Captain of the Guard that he wanted the men ready to move out as soon as he returned from his meeting with his father. A very nervous Faramir was facing a highly annoyed Denethor. “Oh, look who we have here. Have you finally decided to come out of hiding from behind the backs of these impertinent Rohirrim?” With a sigh the Ruling Steward turned to one of his advisers. “What can we do with this coward? He defies all my orders.”

Faramir blushed. “But father I am here on your orders. I am here to take up my duty in the defence of Gondor.” Denethor waved his hand in a disapproving manner. “The only son I can rely on is Boromir. What would we be without him?!” The adviser bowed low and in a wailing voice agreed to everything the Steward said.

“If I am such a useless person and so annoying to your eye, father, why then have you ordered me here?” Faramir dared to challenge. “I have my marching order. Every minute I am staying here in Minas Tirith is wasted on Boromir who is desperately waiting for the men to arrive. Again the faster I leave the earlier the Rangers can press on to North Ithilien and fortify our northern border.”

Denethor sneered not knowing if to express anger or distain. He waved his adviser to produce the dispatches which were meant for Boromir. “These Lord Faramir are for your brother the Captain Boromir and have to be delivered to him in person. Under no circumstances these letters are to fall into enemies hands.”

“See that you can at least run this errand without messing up.” Were the parting words of the Steward addressed to his youngest son. Faramir bowed and retreated.

The letter tucked away in his tunic he rushed down the levels of the City to reach the stables and his horse. There he knew the men were assembled for riding out to Osgiliath. He had to take a dark corner to get into the street that led to the stables, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned swiftly and drew his sword whilst at the same time catching the attackers right hand which held a knife ready to strike. He tried to keep the wall of the building in his back throughout the attack. He managed to strike with his sword and the attacker fled wounded.

For a moment Faramir was tempted to pursue the attacker but then remembered Boromir who was in urgent need of the fresh troops so he discarded the idea.

So he turned into the street and rushed to meet with the troops by the stables.

Faramir missed to notice the figure clad in dark clothes peeling himself of the wall’s shadow and followed his attacker.


Boromir was on the look-out. ‘Where was Faramir?’ He only hoped that Faramir was out of Minas Tirith and on his way to Osgiliath. Only when one of the outer guards called out that riders were approaching he stormed onto the wall of the City to find out if this was his brother.

But it was too dark so he returned to the gate. He arrived to the news that indeed his brother and the long awaited men had arrived. So he rushed out to welcome his brother.

The two brothers fell into each others arms. Faramir produced the letters his father had ordered him to hand to Boromir. “It must be your new orders, brother. Father made it quite clear that nobody but you should lay their hands on them.” “Were you in trouble because of them.” Boromir asked sensing the tension in his younger sibling. But Faramir was in no mood to dig deeper on this subject.

All of Boromir’s arguments to keep Faramir in Osgiliath were to no avail. The next morning Faramir gathered his rangers and moved out. “I have my duties, you have yours, brother. Father is unhappy with my performance and I don’t mean to cause him further trouble. My orders are clear. The first part I have delivered. Now I have to go and fulfil the second part.”

As soon as Faramir had left the troops in Osgiliath, the captains of the reinforcement troops were called to report to Boromir. Had there been attacks on the way from Minas Tirith? Had they had seen anybody following them? Had they spotted any suspicious behaviour amongst the men or Faramir’s rangers?

All questions were replied with a firm “No.” But as soon as night fell Boromir was approached.

“Captain, I do have something to report. But I couldn’t in front of the others. This is a delicate matter.” Boromir nodded and the two men walked out of the City to a quiet spot near the river bank.


Faramir rode up to the waterfall. Somewhere behind the curtain of silver glittering droplet lay the entrance to the Henneth Annûn. He directed his horse into the water and rode up towards the waterfall. With a heel kick the horse overcame it’s natural fear and stepped through the curtain of water.

Behind the water he entered a great cave with an archway at one end. He stopped short as he heard the footsteps coming towards him. A torch was lit at the back end of the cave and Éomer came from around a corner waving him to bring the horse. Faramir followed and the outer cave fell into darkness again.

“You can’t keep a fire in that cave. It can be seen through the water and give away your retreat.” Faramir nodded as he followed Éomer. The Rohirrim walked through the archway and signalled Faramir to leave his horse there. The archway led to and open courtyard like clearing. If there ever had been a roof it was no longer detectable. Instead the space was filled with plants and another small waterfall that gathered in a small pool. Éomer led Faramir further along a steep ledge into another cave, smaller than the first but furnished and with a fire running.

“I want you to remember this place. Faramir, promise me that when you are in danger that you try to come here. What ever happens I will come and find you here. Please will you promise?” Faramir hugged Éomer and promised. The young Rohirrim took him by the hand and led him over to a bed.

The pulled Faramir down to sit beside him.

Before they lay down, Éomer took Faramir’s hand. “I want you to know that you are not going to be attacked anymore. Hush!” He placed his finger on Faramir’s mouth. “I know why you kept this a secret and believe me, I did not go all the way. But I think I managed to convinced the culprit to not try again.” Éomer smiled.

Faramir was safe as safe as a soldier could be in a country at war. But as long as he lived, he Éomer would take care that his lover was protected.

Continue to Henneth Annûn.

NB: Please do not distribute (by any means, including email) or repost this story (including translations) without the author's prior permission. [ more ]

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