Title: Infrequent Meetings 
Author: Minx 
Pairing: Faramir/Eomer 
Rating: R
Disclaimer: LOTR and all its characters belong to Tolkien 
Archiving: Drop me a line before you do 
Warnings: Slash, angst 
Summary: Eomer and Faramir meet before the war, possibly AU
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated - greenrivervalley@gmail.com
A/N: This was written for the Faramir Fiction Archive Midsummer Swap in response to a 
request by Laurelote: I'm pretty flexible about this, but I guess I'd like to read some more 
Faramir/Éomer, maybe something set before the war?
Many thanks to Iris for her help and encouragement!
Eomer walked swiftly into the great hall behind the other riders, his eyes searching the room 
anxiously for their visitor. Faramir was sitting by Théoden, talking quietly to the king, he 
realised. Smiling, he strode towards the large table, his eyes never leaving the other man as 
he moved closer.

He looked exhausted, Eomer thought dismayed, and as he glanced at the lean face. He 
thought he could see lines that had not been there the last night. He was thinner too, and 
tiredness radiated off him, in the slight slump of his shoulders once Théoden had turned away 
and in the listlessness of his eyes.

He reached the table and slipped in next to Faramir, causing the other man to turn towards 
him.  Dull grey eyes lit up with a spark of brightness that made Eomer hurt in a most 
pleasurable way.

“Eomer!” Faramir’s voice was soft yet eager, “They said you were out and unlikely to return 
for a fortnight.”

“Your message from Ithilien was delivered to me with the despatches,” Eomer said quietly, 
feeling strangely self-conscious, “It was a surprise, albeit a pleasant one. I thought you were 
in Minas Tirith to attend your father’s councils for some weeks still.”

“I was a day in Minas Tirith, no more, before Father asked me to join the party reaching here. 
I left as soon as I could.”

It had been more than a year since they had last met. 

It was the first time they’d met. Eomer had been sent to Minas Tirith with a delegation similar 
to the one Faramir accompanied now. 

…………..

Eomer felt a little nervous but he knew he mustn’t show it. He had just been given an eored 
and here he was in Minas Tirith surrounded not just by other Riders, all of them older than 
him, but Gondorian captains too. They were not unalike his companions, save in colouring. 
They ‘d seemed quieter but now gathered together in the large hall in the citadel, sprawled 
over the large stone tables, surrounded by good food and ale, they were much like the riders. 
Loud and overly cheerful, trying to forget their soldering lives for the moment.

He still felt a little awkward surrounded by older men, who’d seen so much more than he had. 
Loud, cheerful laughter cut into his quiet thoughts, and he turned to see his cousin Theodred 
talking to Boromir. They laughed again and Eomer found himself smiling just at the 
joyousness he heard in their voices. It was good to see Theodred smile. Often these days, all 
he seemed to do was worry over the defences.

He’d been curious about the Steward’s sons. Boromir had been much as he’d heard he would 
be – tall, well-built, handsome, especially when he’d smiled at his cousin Theodred, when they 
had all met for dinner. Eomer was anxious to speak to him and get to know him better. He’d 
been hearing all about him for long now, and not just from Theodred who seemed to know him 
quite well. He wished he could have been seated near them, instead of at the foot of the table. 
But then perhaps, it wasn’t so bad… he actually felt nervous about talking to him.

Faramir had been different. He had returned from Ithilien that day, and his brown and green 
outfit was still streaked with mud. At eighteen, Eomer was already as broad as him. Boromir 
had laughed and talked boisterously with the men around, Faramir had smiled, exchanged a 
few words and lapsed into silence. Yet, the silence was not accompanied by sullenness as 
Eomer would have envisaged. 

The supper finally broke up as the men began staggering home or to taverns, still cheerful but 
not yet drunk. Eomer watched as Theodred and Boromir rose together. He rose too, intending 
to join them but they slipped away through the door before he could, laughing and talking, 
hands slung around each other in a manner that Eomer had seen many a rider do.  He tried to 
bite back the disappointment. He’d have liked to have joined them. Surely they must be 
discussing the horses Theodred had brought along this year. Some of them, Eomer had 
trained.

He found himself left alone with Faramir, and mad to leave, awkward still, wondering whether 
to return to his chambers or to search for the other two. Faramir had risen with him, he 
realised then, and turned awkwardly towards him.

Faramir was staring thoughtfully after the door, and then he turned to Eomer.

“Would you join me for some wine in my chambers?” he asked suddenly.

Eomer stared at him, confused, unsure what to say. He was about to decline politely when he 
recollected that Faramir too was the Steward’s son. It would not be polite, he decided, to 
refuse.

“Certainly,” he said overly cheerfully, in a bid to trying to sound enthusiastic.

Faramir’s rooms were not far from the guest rooms that had been given to Eomer and 
Theodred. They were not very large but looked comfortable enough with tall windows looking 
out over gardens and terraces below. A small terrace led out through a large wooden door. 
Faramir led him into a small sitting room, where a fire lingered in the hearth.
They were rather dull rooms, Eomer thought as he looked around curiously, taking in the old, 
frayed curtains, the dusty vases that held no flowers, the books crammed untidily into a 
wooden shelf, a faded multicoloured rug no longer as bright as it must have been. For all that 
people spoke of Gondorian culture, his chambers in Rohan were better he thought.

“Do sit,” Faramir said courteously, waving towards the chairs near the hearth, “I’ll ask the 
kitchens to send us something to eat too.”

Eomer decided not to point out that they’d just had supper. Faramir had joined them later and 
missed most of the meal. He nodded quietly instead.

He walked out into the small terrace. It was chilly outside and he could feel the nip in the air. 
The winters were nearing.  He looked out interestedly, wondering if he could see a view of the 
city from here. 

Theodred had said Boromir’s rooms looked out over the city. From Faramir’s room all that 
could be seen were the same gardens and that he could see from his room, he realised. And a 
level lower, a smaller balcony jutted out right over an ornamental pond. He was still looking 
around when he heard the soft sounds from near the pond.

There seemed to be someone there, he thought, surprised, two people perhaps, and they 
seemed to be lying there together. Whatever were they doing out in the cold he wondered, 
and then realised that they seemed to be partly undressed. A languid movement revealed that 
they seemed to be completely undressed. He could see a tangle of arms and legs, glowing 
palely under the starlit sky, and then they untangled, their bodies gracefully curving apart and 
then sliding against each again, as they kissed briefly. He leaned forward curiously as they 
came apart and gasped softly as he recognised the men. 

He could see his cousin’s lean and well-muscled body arching, and then Boromir was kissing 
him. A wild tangle of golden hair pressed against a dark head. He moved closer to the railing 
as he watched the way their mouths met, and they seemed to be melding into each other, 
their strong, beautiful bodies glistening in the starlight. Hands flew quickly all over, touching 
exploring, and then Boromir moved, bending his dark head between Theodred’s parted legs. 

The sounds wafted up to his ears, louder now – soft grunts growing louder, until they turned 
into low, pleasured moans, that left him wishing they were emanating from his mouth for they 
were the sweetest sounds he’d heard.

A strange feeling coursed through his lower body. He took a deep, ragged breath as he felt it 
again, a strong surge of such pleasure as he had never felt even when he touched himself on 
lonely nights out with the riders. 

He stepped back and then pulled up short almost immediately when he realised Faramir had 
come up right behind him.

“The food is here,” Faramir said, and then lapsed suddenly into silence. Eomer jerked his head 
away from the sight below to force himself to reply.

“Oh,” he said, and then noticed where Faramir’s gaze had fallen to his leggings, which seemed 
to be confining him now. He moved away from the terrace, feeling his face flush rapidly, trying 
to steady his rapidly beating heart, and to calm the sensations that coursed through his lower 
body. He couldn’t though.

He found his eyes moving towards the couple below again. Their sounds still wafted up. He 
gazed up at Faramir, feeling strange and trying not to blush.

“I – Theodred -, Boromir –“ he stuttered uncertainly, glancing back towards the oblivious 
couple, “I didn’t – I thought they were here to talk of horses,” he said lamely.

 “They meet often on various matters,” Faramir told him quietly.

“Oh,” he said flushing, “I didn’t know. I didn’t -,” he broke off in confusion. 

They stood there uncertainly for a moment, and with each passing second Eomer blushed 
more deeply as his arousal refused to subside.

“Should we go inside?” he said nervously, and without waiting for a reply, stumbled into 
Faramir’s chambers and threw himself into a chair.

“Eomer?” Faramir said gently.

“They looked beautiful,” he blurted out suddenly and then bit his lip.

“Yes,” Faramir said agreeably and poured out the wine into two goblets. He handed one 
quietly to Eomer.

Eomer took it and shifted uncomfortably. The hardness remained, if anything it felt worse as 
he remembered the way Theodred and Boromir had moved against each other, skin on skin, 
touching each other, their arousals meeting. He moaned softly, and then tried to cough to 
cover it. What must Faramir think of him!

“Theodred never told me he – that he –,” he faltered again, “In Edoras all the women fawn 
over him and he in return courts them all.”

“As does Boromir in Minas Tirith,” Faramir replied.

“I did not know – some of the riders, they do well, they do –“

“It’s often so for soldiers – riders and other alike,” Faramir murmured, Away from others so 
long, and faced with what we do constantly, the comfort of companionship is welcomed. 
Another soldier sometimes understands as no woman away from the battlefield might.”

“I suppose so,” Eomer said softly, “But none looked as these two did… they looked so 
beautiful,” he repeated wonderingly, and then, “I have never-“ he added blushing, and 
wondered why he was revealing something as intimate as that to another. But somehow, with 
Faramir it did not feel so wrong to reveal that. 

Faramir looked at him understandingly.

“Have you?” he blurted out and it was Faramir’s turn to look startled and redden slightly.

He nodded briefly, “Some times…”

Eomer looked at the other man, at the intelligent grey eyes and the slender archer’s figure 
and wondered briefly how Faramir might look if he’d been on the balcony sprawled naked on 
the floor with someone… it was a surprisingly delicious thought, he realised… and felt himself 
hardening some more. He groaned and brought his hand to the waistband of his pants, but a 
touch on his wrist prevented that.

He looked into Faramir’s face.

“You’re beautiful too,’ he murmured, and then paled as he realised what he’d said. Suddenly, 
he didn’t feel so hard any more. Gasping softly, he sat up straight and stared back into 
Faramir’s amused face.

“You are very kind,” the other man said, smiling.

“I should leave perhaps before I utter more such inanities,” Eomer muttered, “And take care 
of my needs…”

“I could help,” Faramir said hurriedly.

Eomer raised his eyebrows, trying hard not to picture Faramir naked again. The Gondorian 
however misinterpreted his expression and backed away slightly, “Forgive me, I –“

“No,” Eomer said softly, “I would be glad…but you would have to teach me… what to 
umm…do…”

And he did.

Eomer could never forget that night. He often lay awake nights recreating in his mind every 
moment, every little word, every touch, every gesture of Faramir’s, from when the Gondorian 
had led him to his bed and helped him undress. Faramir had kissed him then, his lips soft and 
wet, with the taste of the sweet wine still lingering.

Eomer had been with women, but not as many as perhaps Theodred would have. But then, 
Theodred was older, stronger, braver and much favoured by the young women in Edoras, and 
the young men too, Eomer realised now. 

And not one of those women had made Eomer feel even half of what Faramir made him feel 
by merely kissing him on his mouth, his jaw, his neck, his shoulder blades. When Faramir 
undressed, Eomer watched with unrestrained pleasure… Faramir was every inch as he’d 
imagined, and more.

They felt each other, bare skin against bare skin, and he gasped at the sensations that flooded 
through him when his arousal pressed against Faramir’s, and responded eagerly as Faramir 
had kissed him again snaking his tongue into the older man’s throat, hesitantly at first but 
then eagerly as Faramir opened up encouragingly, breaking away only when they were out of 
breath.

“You are most beautiful too,” Faramir murmured huskily, “I have not taken my eyes off you, 
since I first saw you yesterday… do you know your hair gleams as gold when the sun falls on 
it,” he whispered before moving down and licking Eomer’s nipple.

“Would you like to take me?” he asked in that same husky tone and Eomer nodded, unable to 
speak.

Faramir took him in his mouth, causing Eomer to nearly scream, licking and kissing him into 
hardness. Eomer watched through lidded eyes as Faramir quickly prepared himself, and then 
sprawled across the bed, spreading himself out for Eomer. 

He then guided him into entering him, encouraging Eomer to push into the tight warmth, 
harder and harder, telling him to breathe in then out to stop, to push, to push harder. Eomer 
tried to be gentle, pushing in slowly, until he’d sheathed himself, and then he could control 
himself no more, even as Faramir kept urging him to move faster. And then the older man 
cried out, and he knew he’d done something right, for Faramir had clenched around him.

He came inside Faramir, his entire body trembling as he felt his release spurt out and fill up 
the tight space. He’d moved his hands fumblingly over Faramir’s hardness, stroking him until 
Faramir had cried out again, and he’d felt warm fluid spill out over his fingers. And then he 
suddenly found himself feeling extremely lightheaded, and closing his eyes, slumped over 
Faramir’s bare stomach, breathing heavily, hoping he wouldn’t black out. 

“You are beautiful,” Faramir had repeated softly.

“I want you inside me,” Eomer murmured.

They’d spent the night together, exploring each other. And later, they had lain together in 
Faramir’s room, in front of the hearth, drinking warm wine, a rug carelessly swept over their 
bare bodies, and talked and discussed their likes and dislikes and Faramir had flushed and 
retrieved a book tightly wedged in between two fat tomes, and they had glanced through the 
illustrations and made plans for the rest of Eomer’s visit.

…..

It was all they could do. The next morning when Eomer had entered the council room, Faramir 
had been standing in front of Denethor, his head bowed, shoulder slumped tiredly. He’d 
watched anxiously, then Boromir and Theodred had entered, and Denethor turned to them.

“Faramir, you may leave now. Set out immediately.”

“Set out?” Boromir frowned, even as Eomer gaped.

“Faramir must return to Ithilien,” Denethor was saying decisively. He was saying something 
about movements but Eomer heard none of it. Eomer was staring solely at the misery etched 
on Faramir’s face.

“Why do you wait here?” Denethor snapped at Faramir, suddenly., causing him to straighten 
up and leave after wishing them farewell. Eomer slipped out after him.

They had parted with a passionate kiss, each trying to display understanding.

“I shall try to return soon,” Faramir promised, “There is that thing we discussed about the 
fruits and honey.”

Eomer smirked in reply and kissed him again, “I’ll look forward to it,” he said smiling.

But Faramir could not return till the day they were to depart, and all they could manage were 
a few furtive kisses as Eomer packed.

…………………

When Eomer and his men rode out the next day to check the defences on a hill to the east of 
the city, Faramir offered to join them since his councils were theoden were completed.

“It is good of you to ride with us,” Eomer said, quietly although in his eyes he could have done 
with more rest than work.

“I am glad I could,” Faramir replied.

They spoke little that day, for they needed to ride hard, stopping only briefly at midday to 
have a quick meal. 

They camped that evening on a small stretch of land by a stream. Eomer’s tent was pitched 
some distance away, closer to the small stream that stumbled down the hillside. He finished 
seeing to the men, giving them his instructions and then returned there.

Faramir was lying under a tree, his head resting on his saddle pack watching the tall yellow 
grasses swaying in the soft wind. A wayward appleblossom floated lazily down from the tree 
they sat below. Eomer plucked it gently off Faramir’s hair, and continued to watch the older 
man.

“Eomer,” Faramir smiled up at him.

“You looked tired,” Eomer said softly.

“I’ve never felt better,” Faramir said, “What do you think of?”

“I was thinking of when we met last year.”

“I have thought of naught else all these days,” Faramir said softly.

“Would you rest,” Eomer asked gently.

“That would depend on what you mean by rest,” Faramir rose himself on to his elbows slowly.

Eomer sat down beside him.

“Well you would have to just lie down, and I could see to that thing we spoke of with fruits 
and honey…”

-end-