Disclaimer: If I could own Éomer (or better still Karl Urban…) I'd be a very happy bunny indeed.

A/N: This is a two-part story, told back to front- i.e. the second will be a memory, or a flashback. The idea came to me when I heard the following song on the radio:

An enchanted moment

And it sees me through

It's enough for this restless warrior

Just to be with you

And can you feel the love tonight?

How it's laid to rest?

It's enough to make kings and vagabonds

Believe the very best.

-Elton John, Can You Feel The Love Tonight?


Restless Warriors

Éomer eased himself from his horse's saddle and sank to the ground.

Rain water pooled around his feet. He swept his dripping hair from his forehead and rubbed his eyes. The gentle twilight of a short while ago had dissolved into sheets of water.

Éomer was – undoubtedly - lost.

He reached inside his robes and produced a small piece of parchment. It was a map of sorts, not especially detailed but good enough for finding the way about Ithilien. Or at least so the map-seller had claimed. "Knotted tree… Knotted tree… Stream? A knotted tree by a stream…" Éomer glanced around the surrounding area. He couldn't see anything that even vaguely the resembled the spidery-ink patterns of the map.

He led Firefoot forward a few paces; the horse pranced, splattering up mud and water. Éomer groaned.

"Who goes there?" A green-hooded man appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, with an arrow notched in his bow.

"A friend," Éomer answered.

"Are you armed?"

"I carry my sword, nought else."

The man nodded. "You are a stranger to these parts?" A statement intoned as a question. The hooded man was hostile.

"I am Éomer, of the Rohirrim." Eomer took a hesitant step forward. "I wish to speak with Captain Faramir of Gondor."

"Is he expecting you?"

"Not exactly…" Éomer shrugged. "You'll either have to trust me or shoot me!"

The hooded soldier laughed. "The shadow in the east grows; there are strangers on the old roads. We can't be too careful." He beckoned Éomer forward. "I can take you to the Captain but you'll have to be blindfolded."

Éomer nodded. He didn't care if he had to strip naked and walk across burning coals; he needed to see Faramir. This longing – if that's what you'd call it – had to be satisfied.

Éomer mounted his horse and tied the piece of cloth over his eyes. It wasn't so bad after all- he might not trust this hooded soldier from a neighbouring land but he certainly trusted his horse, Firefoot.

The horse stepped off, the soldier leading it by the reins. "Do you know Captain Faramir?"

Éomer considered. "I did know him, once, and I hope I still do."

They passed the next half hour in silence, before Éomer was ordered to dismount. He was led a few hundred yards on- the ground was treacherous and running water sounded loud in his ears.

Suddenly, everything was quieter. Éomer could no longer feel the rain.

And then he heard the hooded soldier speak. "I bring a man of Rohan who wishes to speak with you, Captain."

"His name?"

Éomer's breath hitched. How long had it been since he'd heard that voice? Too long.

"He said his name was Éomer, sir."

There was a note of wonder in Faramir's voice. "Éomer? Are you sure that's the name he gave?"

There came the sound of footsteps coming towards him and after a few moments his blindfold was removed. He was pushed forward into another chamber. The light of flaming torches was a little too bright all of a sudden and Eomer blinked several times. And there, scarcely feet away and bathed in warm light, stood Faramir. Tall, slender and gentle-eyed: he took Eomer's breath away. He always had done.

And Eomer was frozen in his presence.

"Gods…" Faramir whispered. For a moment, neither man moved; neither wanted to break the spell, the threads of invisible emotion that seemed to tie them together and force them apart at the same time.

"Gods…" Faramir repeated. "I never-" And then he launched himself into Éomer's arms. Their embrace was rough and hard: the embrace of soldiers, parted for too long. "It's been so many years…" Faramir murmured, still clasping the younger man to him. "I thought I might never see you again."

"I had to come." And that was just it- Éomer didn't have a legitimate reason to be there; no errand had caused him to rush off to a place God knows how many leagues away from his home. Perhaps by leaving he was neglecting his duty to Rohan but Éomer had reasoned that the men would be safe with Theodred as their Captain. Yes, they could manage without him for a few days.

"You have aged…" said Faramir, as he cupped Éomer's chin in his hands. Blue eyes met brown. "You were a boy when last I saw you…"

"I was eighteen!" Éomer chuckled. "You have not aged at all," he added and then, more softly, "Although now you have more cares resting on your shoulders."

"We all have more cares, these days." Faramir smiled. "Yet right now I can't remember a single one."

Éomer's smile had never possessed Faramir's gentle warmth; it was wider and fiercer, more of a grin than anything. "Me neither!"

And then there it was. The awkward few seconds that always follow moments such as these.

Faramir cleared his throat. "You're wet," he said, a little shyly.

"Yes…"

A man brought them wine, bread and fruit for supper and a change of clothes for Éomer. The tunic was embroidered with the crest of Gondor, the White Tree that Faramir loved so much.

"What of Boromir?" Éomer asked, as he removed his wet clothing and tried not to feel nervous at the way Faramir's eyes lingered on his naked body. It had been so long since anyone had looked at him like that- with such hunger.

"He left for Imladris not that long ago." Faramir swallowed and tore his eyes away from Éomer. "I fear for him."

"He's a great warrior," Éomer said. He pulled the tunic over his head before parading the Gondorian livery. "How do I look?"

"Like a man of Gondor: very handsome." Faramir beckoned him over. "Let's eat and think of happier times."

Éomer sat down next to the older man. "Do you remember-" But he couldn't go on. He'd dreamt about this moment for too long and now it was here- well, it was difficult.

"I remember…" Faramir rested his hand on Éomer's. "…Loving you."

Loving you.

Loving you, Éomer

How I loved you, once.

How I may still love you.

I don't know.

"You were so young..." Faramir continued.

Éomer laughed. "You were unhappy," he said. "I thought I'd never be able to make you smile…"

"But you did." An odd light had entered Faramir's eyes and a faraway look settled on his face. "I've never been happier."

Éomer didn't really know what to say; when words failed him, he seized Faramir's hand, pressed it to his face and then kissed the palm. Sitting there, his side pressed against the older man, brought back so many memories of the brief time when they had been lovers.

It was so long ago- and yet it could have been only yesterday...