Faramir Fiction Archive

Half-Hearted Holiday (NC-17)

Written by Laurëlóte

29 September 2006 | 19511 words

Chapter 11

Éomer found Faramir in the private gardens that had once belonged to his mother.

It had been days since they had told Éowyn and she had not uttered a word to either of them since. The whole thing had put a strain on their own relationship, mainly out of guilt over the pain that they had caused.

Just that morning, Éomer had said some things that he had instantly regretted, so now he was here, preparing to beg for forgiveness, for he was not sure how he would cope if he lost his beloved as well as his sister.

Nervously, the Rohirrim approached, only to find strong arms wrapped around him.

“It is alright,” said Faramir gently, releasing his hold after a moment. He knew exactly why the Rohirrim was here and he too felt sorry about the morning’s argument. “I know that you did not mean those things.”

“That does not give me the right to say things that hurt you,” Éomer replied sadly allowing the Gondorian to lead him over to the bench in the corner of the garden.

“I do not deserve you,” he continued, raising a hand when Faramir tried to protest. “I should have just stayed quiet and let you marry Éowyn. At least then you would both be happy. Instead, I have brought misery to you both.”

For a moment, he fell quiet, seemingly lost in thought.

Sensing the Rohirrim had more which he needed to say, Faramir resisted the urge to speak and stayed silent.

Suddenly overcome with emotion, Éomer buried his face against the Gondorian’s chest, his shoulders shaking with pent up tears.

Faramir wrapped his arms round the younger man and pulled him close, trying his best to comfort him.

“What have I done?” Éomer asked, turning to face the Gondorian once he had recovered his composure. “What if she never speaks to me again? She is all the family I have left.”

“Shh… do not talk like that,” replied Faramir softly. “You are her brother and she loves you. Yes, she is angry now, but she just needs time. She will forgive you.”

Unbeknownst to them, a silent figure watched them sadly from a window above, only turning away when a hand gently squeezed her shoulder.

“I have never seen him cry in front of anyone before, not even me,” she said quietly.

“Éowyn, he feels safe with Faramir,” Aragorn replied gently. “I know that you feel betrayed, but they never meant to hurt you.”

A few days ago, he had been shocked but pleasantly surprised by the development as Éowyn had run crying into his arms. He felt sorry for her, but he understood completely how it felt to love two people at once, and the two men were perfect for each other.

However he knew that the only happy ending would be if the Rohirrim siblings were happy to share.

“I know that you are upset, but I also know that you adore Faramir, are you really willing to throw that away?”

“I care nothing for Faramir now.”

“If that is true, why are you so upset?” challenged Aragorn.

Éowyn had been moping around for days now. Finally losing his patience with her stubbornness he decided to speak frankly, believing it was the only way to make her see sense.

“At the end of the day, it is you who are missing out. They will have each other and you will be alone.”

“Marry Faramir and yes you will have to share him, but you will get to be with him every day. Éomer will not. Need I remind you that one is Steward of Gondor, the other King of Rohan? Realistically how often do you think they will get to see each other?”

With that he strode out of the room, leaving Éowyn to her thoughts, hoping that she would realise exactly what she was throwing away.

Faramir frowned and got up from his desk. He was convinced he had heard a knock on his study door but no one had entered. He opened the door just in time to see Éowyn walking away.

“Éowyn!”

Hearing the Gondorian call her name, Éowyn paused briefly, trying to decide what to do. She had come to speak to him, but as she had knocked at his door, she had realised that she just was not ready to see him.

“Éowyn, please speak to me,” pleaded Faramir, “Or if not me, Éomer. Do not throw your brother’s love away.”

Éowyn closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Reluctantly she turned round and headed back towards the study.

“You love him very much, do you not?” asked Éowyn after a while, having settled down in one of the chairs by the fire.

“Yes I do,” said Faramir softly, kneeling beside the chair and taking her hand. “I would not mess with his feelings or yours Éowyn. I love you both deeply; I never wanted to hurt you.”

Éowyn smiled sadly and turned to face the Gondorian. She knew that what he said was true, but never less she had been hurt, and inside her heart was breaking.

“I love you Faramir with all my heart, but I can not and will not share you with anyone.”

“Please do not ask me to choose,” replied Faramir quickly, a hint of distress in his voice. It was the one thing he dreaded most, having to choose would only serve hurt her more and would widen the rift between her and Éomer further.

“I do not ask you to choose, for I fear that you will choose duty over your heart, and then we shall all be miserable.”

“I release you from your vow to me, Faramir,” she added after a long pause. “I will not marry you.”

Faramir was saddened by her words, but deep down he knew that he was not as upset as he should be, it was only then that he realised that his heart belonged to Éomer completely.

“Are you sure that this is what you want?” he asked, biting his lip.

Éowyn squeezed his hand gently. “Yes, I am sure, and I give you and Éomer my full blessing. You are good for each other.”

“And now I will go and tell my brother the same as I have told you.”

“I thought you might need a little cheering up,” explained Éomer having arrived at Faramir’s chambers later that evening, armed with a large dish of strawberries and one of Aragorn’s best bottles of sweet elven wine.

Faramir smiled broadly on seeing his visitor and showed Éomer in, taking the dish and wine from him and placing them down on the table. “Thank you, although you should realise that you do not need to bring anything other than yourself to brighten my mood.”

“So tell me my love,” he said grinning as he leant over the back of the chair Éomer had settled himself into and wrapped his arms around the younger man’s neck. “Whose idea was the strawberries then?”

“Mine!” exclaimed the Rohirrim indignantly.
“Are you sure?” questioned the Gondorian teasingly.

“Oh alright! It was Éowyn…” he said defeated. “But the wine was my idea!”

“And a very lovely idea it was too my love,” said Faramir softly in between placing small kisses along Éomer’s neck.

Regretfully he pulled away to pour the wine, but returned moments later with two goblets and passed one to the Rohirrim.

“Let us propose a toast. ‘To us, and to all those we hold dear. May we all find happiness.’ “

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