Folly
Written for the ringprov challenge, to write a fic with no dialogue: written in just over 30 minutes. Concrit very much welcome.
Title: Folly
Pairing: Faramir/Eomer, Faramir/Eowyn
Rating:R/NC-17 (not really sure on this)
Warnings: Angst.
He should have said something. The night in Minas Tirith when, both of them drunk, Eomer had pressed him against a pillar in a dark hallway and kissed him, knocking Faramir’s head against the stone in his enthusiasm. He should have said something when Eomer pulled him into his rooms, should have said something rather than undressing, and then there was nothing to say. He should have left, have gone back to his wife, but Eomer had fallen asleep across his chest, and he had no wish to wake him. Faramir had gone to sleep, thinking only of his wife, not the man he was in bed with.
In the morning he was woken with a kiss and a rough embrace. He didn’t resist as they- Faramir could only think of it as rutting, mindless and passionate but loveless. He loved Eomer, but not like this, while every touch left him wanting more. He washed and went back to his wife, full of excuses about having fallen drunkenly asleep on her brother’s floor, excuses that rang false in his head even as he thought of them.
Eomer left two days later, and Faramir banished all thoughts of what had happened. He was the dutiful Steward, the loving husband and father. If only he could go back and undo what had been done, to have drunk less, resisted more, so that he could call himself a faithful husband. He knew that Eowyn suspected nothing, but in his heart he was torn apart. He had hurt her deeply, even if she did not know. Honour was all to her; and what was more dishonourable than your husband to sleep with your brother? Faramir had thought himself honourable, but what was he now? No better than the common guards of the city, who boasted about their conquests behind their wives’ backs?
These feelings lessened as time passed. Normality came again, as Eowyn fell pregnant once more, as they rode together through the woods of Ithilien, shared their love in groves only they knew about. The next time Eomer visited Minas Tirith business in Ithilien kept Faramir there, and Eowyn went alone to show her brother his newest niece. Faramir could not help but feel relieved, and when Eowyn returned, bearing cordial greetings from Eomer, and that he would like to see Faramir again soon, his heart skipped a beat. He cursed himself inwardly; it had been a drunken folly, that was all.
A few weeks later a letter came, inviting them to Edoras. As he saw his wife’s face light up with the thought of visiting Rohan again, Faramir knew he could not deny her this. All was celebration in Edoras, for Eowyn was greatly loved there, and they were received with affection by Eomer. Faramir relaxed, for Eomer seemed to make no acknowledgement of what had gone on before between them. He had been worrying himself unnecessarily.
Mead and cheer flowed. Eowyn excused herself early, still tiring quickly from the demands of motherhood. Faramir sought fresh air outside the Meduseld, and it was there that Eomer found him, turning him round and kissing him as he pushed him into the shadows under the eaves. There was no taint of alcohol on Eomer’s breath: this was no drunken folly on his part. Faramir was more sober this time, and he opened his mouth to protest, but Eomer’s hand found the front of his breeches, and his protest turned into a gasp. He should pull away, he should remember his wife, he should not let himself be led to Eomer’s chamber, he should not let himself submit again. Even as he thought these things he knew he would not do them. His father was right, he was weak. As their naked bodies pressed together, as his fingernails dug into Eomer’s back even these thoughts fled.
That was until he heard the gasp. Until he turned, and saw his wife at the door, face set in horror, tears already starting at the corners of her eyes. Even as thought returned, still he could not say anything. What could he say?
Title: Folly
Pairing: Faramir/Eomer, Faramir/Eowyn
Rating:R/NC-17 (not really sure on this)
Warnings: Angst.
He should have said something. The night in Minas Tirith when, both of them drunk, Eomer had pressed him against a pillar in a dark hallway and kissed him, knocking Faramir’s head against the stone in his enthusiasm. He should have said something when Eomer pulled him into his rooms, should have said something rather than undressing, and then there was nothing to say. He should have left, have gone back to his wife, but Eomer had fallen asleep across his chest, and he had no wish to wake him. Faramir had gone to sleep, thinking only of his wife, not the man he was in bed with.
In the morning he was woken with a kiss and a rough embrace. He didn’t resist as they- Faramir could only think of it as rutting, mindless and passionate but loveless. He loved Eomer, but not like this, while every touch left him wanting more. He washed and went back to his wife, full of excuses about having fallen drunkenly asleep on her brother’s floor, excuses that rang false in his head even as he thought of them.
Eomer left two days later, and Faramir banished all thoughts of what had happened. He was the dutiful Steward, the loving husband and father. If only he could go back and undo what had been done, to have drunk less, resisted more, so that he could call himself a faithful husband. He knew that Eowyn suspected nothing, but in his heart he was torn apart. He had hurt her deeply, even if she did not know. Honour was all to her; and what was more dishonourable than your husband to sleep with your brother? Faramir had thought himself honourable, but what was he now? No better than the common guards of the city, who boasted about their conquests behind their wives’ backs?
These feelings lessened as time passed. Normality came again, as Eowyn fell pregnant once more, as they rode together through the woods of Ithilien, shared their love in groves only they knew about. The next time Eomer visited Minas Tirith business in Ithilien kept Faramir there, and Eowyn went alone to show her brother his newest niece. Faramir could not help but feel relieved, and when Eowyn returned, bearing cordial greetings from Eomer, and that he would like to see Faramir again soon, his heart skipped a beat. He cursed himself inwardly; it had been a drunken folly, that was all.
A few weeks later a letter came, inviting them to Edoras. As he saw his wife’s face light up with the thought of visiting Rohan again, Faramir knew he could not deny her this. All was celebration in Edoras, for Eowyn was greatly loved there, and they were received with affection by Eomer. Faramir relaxed, for Eomer seemed to make no acknowledgement of what had gone on before between them. He had been worrying himself unnecessarily.
Mead and cheer flowed. Eowyn excused herself early, still tiring quickly from the demands of motherhood. Faramir sought fresh air outside the Meduseld, and it was there that Eomer found him, turning him round and kissing him as he pushed him into the shadows under the eaves. There was no taint of alcohol on Eomer’s breath: this was no drunken folly on his part. Faramir was more sober this time, and he opened his mouth to protest, but Eomer’s hand found the front of his breeches, and his protest turned into a gasp. He should pull away, he should remember his wife, he should not let himself be led to Eomer’s chamber, he should not let himself submit again. Even as he thought these things he knew he would not do them. His father was right, he was weak. As their naked bodies pressed together, as his fingernails dug into Eomer’s back even these thoughts fled.
That was until he heard the gasp. Until he turned, and saw his wife at the door, face set in horror, tears already starting at the corners of her eyes. Even as thought returned, still he could not say anything. What could he say?