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Forgotten Moments (NC-17) Print

Written by balrog

27 December 2010 | 49648 words

Title: Forgotten Moments
Author: balrog
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Faramir & Éomer
Warnings: MPREG

Faramir finds out that his life was nothing but a lie.

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Chapter 1

It had been a long hard day: the orcs had been slaughtered, men had been killed and Éomer had his life.

Éomer, son of Éomund and the Marshall of Rohan, sat on his horse, Firefoot, looking at what was before him. Dead bodies lay littered on the land he rode upon.

“Send scouts to see if there are any more enemies around. Also check to see if any man is alive amongst the dead,” he shouted looking at Hama. Somehow in his mind someone was out there still alive. He could feel it in his gut.

Éomer had been sent out with orders from his uncle, King Théoden, that orcs were in the vicinity and getting closer to Rohan. It was imperative that they keep the vile beasts back. Théoden did not like anyone snooping around and finding out about Helm’s Deep.

On the far side of the slaughter, a body rose from the dead carcasses that littered the ground. He didn’t know how he got here or who he was for that matter. He brought his hand to the back of his head and felt a lump that was the size of a duck egg. As soon as he touched the lump, he flinched with pain. This man brought his hand from the back of his head to check his fingers: blood. He tried to get up from the ground only to feel a body across his legs. Pushing the body that was covered in black blood, he got up from the ground and nearly fell back down feeling dizzy. He slowly tried to steady his legs so that he could take in his surroundings. As he stood, he tried to figure out what he was doing in this forsaken land, wherever that may be.

Making his way across the field to see where he was did him no good. It was flat, barely any trees. Off in the distance, he thought he had seen dust raise from the ground. Having a destination in mind, he made his way towards the dust. They were either friend or foe but he didn’t care, as long as it was someone that would take care of this pounding in his head which was excruciating. It wasn’t long before the riders came upon him that he passed out in someone’s arms. Someone with flaxen hair and eyes the color of the sky. That was the last thing he had seen.

Éomer had 104 men in his éord but many more had joined him because the Riders of the Mark knew of his skill. Some of his men were killed in this ambush and Éomer’s éord reigned proudly with their kills.

Riding on his horse, a descendant of the Maeras, Éomer came across someone standing amongst the dead. Not knowing who it was, he came closer realizing it was a man but not of his people. This man wore the tunic with the White Tree of Gondor on his chest.

Getting down from his horse, Éomer made for the man before he collapsed in his arms. He knew who the man was but didn’t have time to utter his name. The man passed out before he could call out his name. He was the son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor. His name was Faramir.

He cradled the man in his arms as he called for a litter to take him back to Edoras so the healers could look at him. He put his hand on the back of the man’s head, feeling a lump and felt something sticky. He brought his hand forward seeing the blood. When his men approached with the litter, they placed him on it gently, covering him up with a blanket. Éomer walked beside the litter that carried the man.

It took them a few hours to get to Edoras, home of the Horse Lords. They entered the gates when the man on the stretcher grabbed at the hand nearest him.

Éomer was watching where he was going when he felt someone take his hand. Looking down he saw Faramir’s eyes were open.

“Hi. How are you feeling?” Éomer asked.

“Fine except for the bump on my head. Where am I and who are you?” Faramir winced as the pain got worse and he passed out again.

Éomer told the men with the stretcher to take him to his quarters and send for the healers. Éomer wanted to take care of Faramir. It was the least he could do for his family.

When the healers arrived, Éomer wanted to stay close. He knew all there was about Faramir from his visits to Gondor. Faramir was a kind soul to his men. They became fast friends when he visited Gondor. His father was something else. Éomer knew that Denethor never appreciated anything Faramir did for his land.

Something about the Gondorian made his heart swell. Seeing the grey eyes and the long auburn hair, made him look beautiful. Éomer sat on the edge of the bed and took one of Faramir’s hands into his own letting the man lying on the bed know that there was someone beside him. He rubbed the man’s knuckles. He didn’t know why he did it but somehow he wanted Faramir to know that he wasn’t alone.

Two younger healers arrived and bathed him. They needed to see if there was any more injuries to the Son of Gondor. Seeing none, they turned to the head healer, they both nodded. This nod assured the healer there were no other wounds. The two healers dressed Faramir in a heavy bed robe to keep him warm but their efforts were in vane seeing the shiver. They left the room not wanting to disturb the young man. When the healers were done with the Gondorian, the head healer told Éomer what was wrong.

“Well, My Lord, he as a nasty bump on the head with a small cut, a few scrapes and bruises but there’s one thing, My Lord.” The head healer knew what was to be done so he asked Éomer.

“What pray tell is that?” Éomer asked raising an eyebrow.

“He has developed a fever. He is cold to the touch and the only thing that will warm him is skin contact. Would you be willing to keep him warm through the night if you don’t have pressing matters to attend to? I know you know him and if he wakes up it would be nice for him to see a familiar face.” He noticed that the King’s nephew had taken the hand of Faramir. The healer put more blankets on Faramir to warm him up but it was doing him no good.

“I can. I will warm him. Could you send a message to my uncle telling him I would like to see him? I think he would like to know that Denethor’s son is here in Edoras.” Éomer watched Faramir as he spoke to the healer.

“I will do that. Keep him warm and let me know if he awakens. If he does, make sure he doesn’t get up or he could get sick. With head injuries, the mind makes the stomach upset and you lose everything. Have a chamber pot handy. I will send another healer with herbs for his stomach and another for pain.” With that said, he bowed to the Marshal and left.

Éomer sat on the edge of the bed for long moments. He was so entranced with the beauty of the young man that he didn’t hear the knock on the door.

After a few minutes, Éomer went to the door and opened it. On the other side was his uncle, Théoden, King of Rohan. “Come in sire. It is good to see you again.” Once his uncle entered, he quickly closed the door trying to keep out the drafts. Being in the mountains had its drawbacks with wind.

“Hello, Éomer, what’s this I hear of you finding Faramir in this part of Middle Earth?”

“I was out on patrol when I came across a band or orcs fighting men but not mine. We took over the fight and some of my men were injured. The injured have been dispensed to the healing quarters. On the field not far from here, I found Faramir almost dead. I don’t know what they were doing here in these parts. I came across him when I was trying to find any wounded in the fight, not realizing that I would only find him. He has a bump on the back of his head and he doesn’t know who he is, uncle.” Éomer took up his seat on the edge of the bed and rubbed Faramir’s knuckles.

“This is most unusual. They never dispense any troops this close. Gondor has never given aid to Rohan. Denethor never upheld his bargin with the Oath of Éorl. If he was dispatched, a message would have been sent weeks ago. I never received any message. As for him not knowing who he is, we will have to take care of him until he does. I don’t have anything pressing at the moment for you so would you mind being in charge of him until he recovers, Éomer? I will make sure that your patrols are covered for the next little while until he has recovered from his injuries.” Théoden knew that his nephew had feelings for the young man in the bed. He could see it in the way he held his hand.

“I will, my King. I will take care of him until he recovers. Right now I need to get him warm. He has developed a fever and has chills. Would you mind sending some food for me, My Lord? I need to take a bath and get into bed with him. The healer said that body heat will get rid of the chills that the body harbors inside.” Éomer rose from the bed and looked at his uncle. “I will make sure he gets his memory back.”

“Thank you, Éomer. This means a great deal to me and I will see to some food for you.” ‘And a great deal to you, I might add,’ the King thought to himself. He walked to the door and left.

Éomer stood from the side of the bed and gathered the blankets tightly around Faramir. He took a pair of sleeping pants and proceeded to the bathroom to bathe. After bathing he entered the bedroom and watched as his charge shivered in his sleep. The Marshall went to the fireplace and put more wood on the fire to make the room warmer. Éomer then ate the food that was left. He then made his way to the bed where he crawled into it and gathered Faramir into his arms. It felt good knowing that the Steward’s son was in good hands. He was definitely tired from the fighting that took place on the Riddermark.

Sometime during the night Éomer woke to Faramir mumbling in his sleep and lying on his back. Éomer tried to soothe the man beside him of his dreams. He brushed loose hair from his forehead finding his forehead wet with sweat. He found a cloth on the night stand and used it to take the wetness from his forehead. Faramir turned again into Éomer arms and placed his head on his shoulder with his arm draped over his chest. Faramir cuddled up to the person beside him feeling the warmth and fell back to sleep.

When morning arrived, Éomer woke to whimpering. ‘Who did he know that whimpered’ he asked himself. It wasn’t until he felt movement beside him that he realized that he was taking care of someone. He looked into the eyes of his bed mate and seen a question furrowed on the man’s face.

Faramir was whimpering in his sleep. He woke with a start and realized that he was lying on someone. He turned his head to find that he was in the arms of a man. The red hair somewhat like his own but longer with a beard that covered some of his face. His bed mate was sleeping soundly. ‘Why am I in the arms of a man?’ he thought to himself. Then the eyes before him opened up and he stared back into his bed mates eyes. These were the same eyes that he had last seen before he passed out on the field. They were the color of the sky.

“How do you fair this morning, my friend?” Éomer asked. “You must be hungry. We both need to eat so I will get us some food.”

“I am fine other than this pounding in my head and I don’t… think…” he stammered as he tried to sit up in bed, putting his hand over his mouth.

Éomer knew exactly what was going to happen next. He dashed out of bed and took the chamber pot that was hidden under the bed just in time for Faramir to roll over and empty his stomach until there was only dry heaving. He laid back onto the bed and put his hand to his forehead.

“I asked the healer for herbs to settle your stomach and for pain. I can imagine your head is being split like an orc’s axe.” Éomer mixed up the herbs and gave it to the man in bed.

“What is an orc?” Faramir was confused. He didn’t know much of anything, only that his head was being split in two. He closed his eyes trying to close out the sunlight that entered the room through the window.

Éomer noticed that Faramir winced at the bright light and closed the curtain to the window. He forgot that bright light can make the pain worse in the head. He cleaned up the chamber pot and set it back under the bed. He soaked a cloth in water and put it on Faramir’s forehead and headed for the door. Opening it, he caught a servant passing asking her to get the head healer and some breakfast. Closing the door, he went back to the bed and noticed that Faramir had closed his eyes. As he was putting on his robe, he heard a knock at the door. He called out to enter.

The head healer entered making his way to Faramir’s bed. He checked Faramir over and noticed that the bump on the back of the head was smaller and the smell of something sour.

“Has he awakened yet, my Lord?” the healer asked. “I can smell a sour scent in the air. He must have thrown up.”

“Yes, he woke up sometime ago. He did indeed empty his stomach. I have ordered breakfast and sometime today I will give him a proper bath, if that is alright.” Éomer sat on the side of the bed watching Faramir.

Just then Faramir opened his eyes and seen Éomer sitting on the side of the bed. He turned his head and noticed someone else in the room.

“Nice to see you awake,” the head healer said. “Do you know who you are and why you were in Rohan?” ‘This is the fastest anyone has ever gotten over a fever before!’ he thought to himself. ‘Not to mention the size of the lump. He should not be awake for another few days with this kind of head injury. I will have to report this to the King.’

Faramir looked at the healer and thought of his questions. Nothing was there for him to answer. “I don’t know who I am. As for being here, I don’t know where here is. All I know is that this beautiful man here saved my life.” He looked back at Éomer and placed his hand into his.

‘Did he just call me beautiful?’ When Éomer felt the gesture of Faramir’s hand in his, his cheeks reddened a bright color. He knew all there was to know about Faramir because they had been long time friends. Whenever one or the other visited, they would spend all their time together. They had become the best of friends. He loved him like the brother he never had. But since he spent last night with his friend, that friendship has turned into something else. His love had grown in a different direction not just as a brother’s love.

“Well,” the healer said. “your name is Faramir and you are the son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor and brother to Boromir. As for being in Rohan we don’t know about that. The King of Rohan, Théoden, Éomer’s uncle, is looking into the matter. Right now I want you to recover.” The healer looked to Éomer. “I will send more herbs for the pain. He should get all the rest he needs. If you want to, you can give him a bath later but don’t leave him alone. We don’t want to injure him further.” With that said, the healer left the room.

A few minutes later there was another knock on his door. Éomer went to the door and opened it. A servant was standing there with a tray of food. He stood back when she entered and set it on the table by the fire. The servant left and Éomer went to Faramir.

“Do you think you can sit up and eat or would you like me to bring the tray to you?” He waited for an answer and watched as Faramir tried to raise himself from the bed.

“I think I would like to sit by the fire,” Faramir answered. He rose from the bed and put his feet down on the floor. His head started to pound again but it wasn’t as bad as before.

Éomer walked over to the bed and helped Faramir to his feet. He led him to the fur by the fire, sitting his charge down against some pillows, then he went back to the bed and got another blanket, wrapping it around the shoulders of the young man. He put more wood on the fire, sat down beside him and served out the food. They sat in silence for what seemed like hours not saying a word. Éomer looked up at his guest.

“Has any memory come back at all, Faramir?”

“No, nothing at all. I wish I could remember something but it’s all a blank. The only thing I remember is you holding me on the field before I passed out. Other than that, nothing.” Faramir stopped eating. He was trying to remember anything but nothing would come to mind. His head was beginning to hurt a little. He picked up his tea and took a swallow. Whatever was in the tea soothed his pain.

“I will try to help you in getting your memory back. We have been friends for many years and I don’t want to loose our friendship over something so trivial. I will take you to places here and in Gondor to gain your memory back. How does that sound to you?” Éomer didn’t want to loose this friendship.

“I want to get my memories back. I want to find out what kind of person I was before all this happened. What was I like, my Lord?” Faramir used his royal name.

“Call me Éomer. I never liked that title. You have a kind soul, knowledge beyond compare, love reading and you love life. As for being a warrior, you are fierce, strong, and your skills with bow and arrow are beyond reason. Also, you have great ideas when it comes to strategies. Your knowledge of maps are uncanny. You must have had a great teacher.”

“Yes, Gandalf was a great teacher.” His eyes widened and he gasped. “How did I remember that? I don’t even know who Gandalf is for that matter.” His head was beginning to pound. “My head is beginning to hurt. Can we stop talking? I think I need to lie down.” Faramir put his hands to his head to ease the pain. He rubbed his temples to ease it but it was not helping.

“We shall stop. It seems to me when I mention something from your past that a memory comes to you just like that. Come, let’s go lie down. I could use more rest myself.” He got Faramir comfortable in bed and covered him with blankets. He went to the fireplace and put more logs on it to keep the room warm. Éomer took his robe off and climbed into the bed beside Faramir. He gathered the man into his arms and rubbed one side of his temple.

When Faramir was in the arms of his friend, he felt his temple being rubbed. It felt good and sometime later he fell asleep. His mind reeled on his past trying to remember but it was no good. Somehow those memories will be forbidden to him until they caught up with him.

They both slept the day away. Faramir awoke first realizing he was in someone’s arms. He felt content and looked up at the person next to him. When he saw the red hair he realized it was a kind soul that comfort him and it felt good. Faramir was glad that he had someone who was willing to help him in recovering his memories.

Éomer felt someone stir in his arms. He opened his eyes and realized that the sun had set with the darkness of the room. He saw a smile on his friend’s face which put one on his.

“How do you fare?” Éomer asked.

“I feel much better. I still can’t remember anything but I hope I will recover quickly. My head no longer hurts.” Faramir sat up in bed realizing that the dizziness had passed.

“I still can’t believe you have recovered so quickly. I never seen anyone do so before which is most unusual. Are you sure you’re human?” he jokingly said at the last thing.

“If I wasn’t human, I would not be living amongst men. Besides, Boromir and I have the same hair color.” Faramir gasped at the name he just said and turned to look at Éomer’s reaction.

“You remember your brother! That is good. See, what did I tell you this morning? You will recover the more you talk. I will keep reminding you of your past and family. This would be great news for your father.” With that said he then asked, “Would you like to have a bath? Now that your head does not hurt any longer I have no fear of leaving you alone in the tub.”

He pulled the neck of his sleeping robe away from himself and took a whiff of his body odor. He looked to Éomer with his nose wrinkled.

“With a look like that I would gander that is a yes.” The Marshall rose from the bed and donned a robe from the chair. He made his way to the bathroom and prepared the tub for his friend. He poured some oil into the water to sooth the muscles of his friend.

Faramir got his legs over the edge of the bed and stood by himself for the first time. He waited for the dizziness to overtake him but when it did not happen, he took a step forward and did not fall. Grabbing a robe off the foot of the bed, he made his way to the bathroom to watch as Éomer got into the tub.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking a bath with you. I figured I could wash your back and you can wash mine.”

“No, I don’t mind. In fact I was going to ask that you join me just in case I drown or something.” He said this last statement with a little laugh.

It was good to hear his friend laugh. “I would have joined you no matter what. Come into the tub.” Éomer rose from the water to help Faramir into the tub so that he wouldn’t slip.

They rested a bit while the water caressed their skin. After a bit, they washed each other and rose from the tub. Éomer got out first and put on a thick robe that hung on a peg on the wall. After he tied his sash, he went to the tub and helped Faramir out as well making sure he didn’t slip. When his feet were planted on the floor, Éomer grabbed for the other robe and helped his friend into it with ease. They made their way to the vanity table and the Marshall proceeded to comb the hair of his friend. He made sure that he was careful not to hit the bump that was on the back of his head. Then he realized that the bump had disappeared. This was another part of the puzzle he would have to solve.

“The bump on the back of your head is gone, Faramir,” Éomer said.

“You’re kidding right?” Faramir asked. He brought his right hand up to the back of his head and didn’t find a bump at all. It had completely vanished. “This is not right is it?”

“No. I’m going to have to ask the healers about this. When one of my men came in with a bump on the back of their heads, it usually took almost a week for it to vanish. This is most peculiar.” Éomer continued combing his hair until all the tangles were free. He then took his comb and unlocked all the tangles in his own hair.

“Come by the fire. I will stoke it and make it warmer in here for you. The weather is getting colder outside by the day and we need to keep the cold winds out. It won’t be long until we board up the windows to keep the snow out. If I hadn’t found you when I did then you would still be out there in the cold. I would have lost a friend.” He put a log on the fire as a tear slid down his face.

Faramir watched as the tear fell and made his way to Éomer to put his arms around him from behind. Somehow this is what friends did to comfort each other. He rocked the Marshall. “You found me in time. I am glad it was you that found me.” Faramir said these words in a whispered tone only for his ears alone.

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The following people read the story, enjoyed it, and would like to thank the author: lucy , Lucienne , Eliza

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2 Comment(s)

NB: Comments span all chapters and may contain spoilers!

Wow! I’ve only gotten through chapter 3, but it’s great so far! :)

— Morwen    27 December 2010, 22:50    #

I’m glad you’re liking this, morwen. It took me 2 years to write this. this is my longest story yet posted.

— balrog    28 December 2010, 01:37    #

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