By Sharpeslass melindacatren@yahoo.com

NC-17 (for strong sexual content), AU/PWP

Pairing: Boromir/Eowyn/Faramir

This story is completely canon shattering, could never have happened and has no redeeming value whatsoever. To make matters worse, it has a sappy ending. However it does have lots of Boromir, Faramir and Smut. If these things interest you, read on. If not, you have been warned and I don’t want to hear about it later!

Disclaimer: Don’t own them. Am abusing them… but not making any money. Etc.

***

I had been called the White Lady of Rohan, The Ice Maiden of the Rohirrim. Now it seemed that these titles would become quite literally true.

Watching the final embers of our tiny fire fade, I felt the last feeling go out of my hands and feet, sensation stolen by the bitter chill. The younger son of the Steward of Gondor still massaged my icy appendages with his own as I huddled between him and his brother, desperate for the fast-fading warmth of their bodies.

***

My uncle, my brother, my cousin and I had accompanied the lords Faramir and Boromir. We were to be their guests in the white city. It had been a gesture on Denethor’s part to strengthen the ties of our people against the coming darkness.

I had known on our first meeting that I might be expected to marry one of these men some day. I had known and had not been displeased. Both were fair and strong in feature and form. Both had qualities to admire.

Boromir was a warrior of great renown. Faramir, though battle-tested and skilled in arms, had the reputation of a scholar and a reader. Such skills are not admired among my people, yet it was to the younger brother that I had found myself drawn.

Perhaps Boromir’s warrior nature had prohibited him from speaking to me as an equal. I wished to hear of swordplay and warfare, but he would not engage me on such topics. That same nature had not prohibited him from casting long appraising looks upon my form. Upon first meeting him, I had felt nearly naked before his inspecting gaze.

However, he had stayed fast beside my brother and cousin as we set out from Edoras. My attempts to join in conversations of battle had been rebuked and so I’d found myself riding beside Faramir, who seemed content to talk upon any topic of my choosing.

The day had been crisp and cold, but unthreatening enough. Though clouds gathered, the conversation was fair. But a sudden and unexpected snowstorm had risen against us as we passed through Anorien. Harsh winter was not uncommon in the Westfold but this was weather unheard of so far south.

As the men debated turning back or pressing forward, the mountains to the south of us let go a giant fall of ice and snow and an avalanche cut the three of us off from the rest of our party. We had tried to press forward. But our horses - my beloved Windfola - had succumbed to the cold.

As Faramir did his gallant best to protect me from the shattering icy winds, Boromir had forced a path through the snow to the small shelter a mountain cave could provide. Though free from the harsh winds, we had still been stung by the freezing temperatures.

"We have no hope but that of rescue," was Boromir’s grim proclamation upon our predicament. But he had been right. We could go no further. We had only enough tinder to start a weak fire. Its warming power would be brief. All other small provisions for our journey had been cut off from us along with our traveling companions.

The hope even of rescue had been a faint one. What impracticality, I had thought, regarding the banner of Gondor that Faramir bore: a white tree on a white background. It was not at all likely to be picked out upon the snowscape, or even the battlefield.

I had said as much and Boromir had regarded me for a long moment, a calculating look on his strong-featured face.

I had drawn my white robes around my russet shift. His thoughts had been all too plain. Eventually I had seen the sense in them. I was never impractical, nor overly concerned with feminine modesty. I had allowed the bottom of my skirts to be torn, and placed outside our refuge as a signal to what help might come.

Boromir had carried some harsh liquor in a flask at his belt along with his weaponry and the great horn of legend. The drink had warmed and burned, but the flask was long since empty. The liquor’s power no longer affected a warming in my limbs but still served to slightly dull my mind.

Perhaps this is an explanation for what was to come… but I had been drinking the sweet strong mead of Rohan since childhood. I think drunkenness cannot be my excuse. An instinct for survival is a more likely alibi. Yet it still rings false to my own mind.

It will be left to no one else to judge. For if they are truly men of honor, as they say and as I believe in spite of what took place between us, none save I will tell this tale.

***

When it began exactly, I cannot say. We were all freezing slowly to death. I think it was Boromir who began it.

"We would be warmer, little brother, were we flesh to flesh." He spoke over my head to the other man.

"Boromir," Faramir spoke through the chill, in weak despairing protest.

"What?" the older brother countered in harsh mocking tones. "Shall we all die to protect a maiden’s modesty?"

My mistake was not in modesty. It was again in imagining myself one among equals.

I am not a man, nor do I wish to be one. Though I did wish to be a warrior, and Boromir’s comment stung my pride.

It is a common knowledge among those who must survive against the elements that more heat is generated by bodies pressed naked together than those separated by clothing. And so, on top of our combined cloaks, we stripped down and laid the discarded clothing atop us for what warmth it might yield.

Never had I felt the truth of my gender more keenly. It was a shocking moment to find myself so pressed, skin to skin, against these two men to whom I had wanted to prove myself a comrade and equal. Moreover, I had wanted not to be the cause of their twin deaths.

Faramir would not meet my eyes as we huddled close. I faced him, with his brother pressed close behind. Faramir’s touch was tentative until I pulled him near to warm his cold skin.

Boromir had no such reservations. He pressed his flesh to my own as soon as we were bare.

Long moments passed before our shivering stopped, but stop it did.

There was now ample heat generating among us. Would it have been the same had we been three soldiers stranded together in the freezing cold? I doubted it, and doubt it still.

Both men were evidently aroused, though one took pains to hide it. The other did not. Faramir separated me from that one part of him with his tunic. Boromir’s shaft was hard and hot against my backside almost immediately.

Forgive me, but at first all I could think was that it was warm. I may have given him encouragement by pressing back toward him. In doing so I did not abandon his younger brother but pulled him toward me, pushing the shirt he’d worn out of my way.

I could hide what they could not, but believe me when I say that at that moment my flesh was urging my mind to abandon all reason.

The two brothers were hard against me their arms encircling my body, both a shelter and a threat. I held Faramir close, but the young man would not meet my gaze. Long agonizing moments we stayed as such, unmoving beneath the blanket of our cloaks and clothing.

Then I felt Boromir’s hot breath on my ear as he began to slowly move his body against mine, his hard flesh stroking my lower back as he rubbed his length along my skin. My breath hitched in my throat and Faramir’s eyes flew to mine, widening slightly as his brother’s motions caused the tender flesh of my abdomen to press again and again against his own erection.

"Boromir,." he protested again. His eyes never left mine, but he winced slightly when his hips jerked seemingly involuntarily against my own. I felt my face flush with a mixture of anger, embarrassment and a curiously demanding sense of need.

"The lady does not mind it." Boromir answered softly, not ceasing his movements. But there was a question behind his words. He gently grasped my shoulder and pressed me down so that I lay on my back between the two men. He propped himself on an elbow and looked down at me with hungry eyes. "We will doubtless be dead by morning," he continued, talking to his brother but never taking his eyes from mine. "To die without knowing one last taste of a woman’s love… She will not sentence us to such a fate."

For a moment a flash of anger eclipsed my other emotions, I struggled to rise, but found Boromir’s strong hand and the tangle of heavy cloaks impeding my movements. My anger warred briefly with a rising panic… and won.

"How dare you?" I snapped up at him. "I am no foolish peasant girl to be wooed by such words." My own brother and cousin had won their way into many beds using those same sentiments before battle. I had felt only scorn for those silly giddy girls, so ready to be used and tossed aside.

As I spoke Faramir reached across my struggling body and gently removed his brother’s hand from my shoulder. Boromir raised the offending hand in a gesture of surrender. I managed to sit but the frigid air stole my breath and my anger as it broke into the warm cave we had created with the heat of our bodies. I lay back with a gasp and both men instinctively pressed close to recapture the escaped heat.

Boromir gave no quarter. His lips were immediately upon my own as his free hand aggressively caressed the flesh of my torso, grasping my rib cage and moving relentlessly over my stomach. His hand closed upon my breast and my earlier protests were rendered meaningless by the instant response of my body.

One of my arms was trapped under Boromir’s weight. The other tightened instinctively about his brother and my fingers grasped frantically at the taut muscles of Faramir’s naked back.

Boromir removed his mouth from my own. Panting and beside myself with unfamiliar sensation I shot a pleading look at Faramir. In spite of his reticence he read the message in my eyes well enough, though it was not the message I had sought to convey.

His own mouth closed upon mine, in a kiss more tender, but no less searing. Twin hands now caressed my skin, coaxing my body into a betrayal I’d never imagined. Two mens’ fingers now probed a place that had felt no man’s touch, both finding me wet and wanting.

Their lips seemed to be somehow everywhere at once. I kissed one on the mouth as another tawny head bent to kiss and nip at my breasts. Their mouths warmed my skin as their hands set a fire inside my body. I moaned into their kisses as their fingers worked with skill and insistence upon and within me. I could not tell where one man’s hand left off and the other began.

When I thought I would go mad from the shame and pleasure of their dual caresses Boromir moved his calloused hand from my flesh and shifted to move over me.

I felt a panic rising in me, but again Faramir interceded, staying Boromir with the light pressure of his own hand upon his brother’s shoulder.

"A moment, brother," he murmured.

Boromir lay back on his side, breathing heavily. His arm moved slightly beneath our blankets as he stroked his own flesh and waited, still looking at me the way a beast of prey might study its lunch.

I was frightened. I felt like a rabbit between two starving wolves. But I was a rabbit who had baited its own trap, using its own flesh as a lure, and orchestrated its own destruction.

Faramir gently caressed my hair as he searched my face, reading my fear. "Are you yet a maiden?" he asked me softly. The expression of tenderness in his blue eyes held the frightened rabbit a willing captive. I couldn’t speak and only nodded in response.

They were two and I was one and I could not, as yet, read them both, but a look passed between the brothers and they seemed to reach an unspoken accord. Boromir simply nodded at Faramir.

Faramir slid himself slowly lower under our coverings stroking the length of my body with his kisses and caresses. I looked to Boromir as Faramir’s kisses branded my hipbones and thighs. I sought for a sign that I could trust this eldest son of Gondor and found in his eyes no such reassurance. In them I saw only pride and passion. He knew he would have me and I could do nothing to prove him wrong.

A protest rose to my lips and was cut off by my gasp of shocked surprise as I felt Faramir’s soft lips close upon the most sensitive part of me. Boromir in turn studied my reaction. His scrutiny intensified as Faramir’s tongue and teeth tore more involuntary sounds from deep in my throat. The elder brother then took my hand from where it had tangled (how had that happened?) in Faramir’s hair and led it to his own throbbing flesh.

Boromir moaned, a low dangerous sound, as my fingers closed about his thick length.

His mouth claimed mine, once again, the short hair of his beard chafing against the skin of my face as the stubble on Faramir’s own chin tortured me into ecstasy.

"Do you like what my little brother is doing to you my lady?" Boromir whispered wickedly between his deep kisses. I could not breathe to answer him, but the answer was all too obvious. Faramir’s thrusting tongue and warm lips soon caused a chain of convulsions to rack my traitorous body. I cried out uncontrollably into Boromir’s mouth and he seemed to feed on my moans and cries, drinking them in as he thrust hard and fast into my tightening grip.

Faramir rose quickly following my climax, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His once gentle eyes were now somewhat wild. As he lay atop me, his hardness pressed against my entry, he seemed, as I was, to be fighting for breath and sanity.

I lay like a creature stunned. My passionate response had surprised me and my body had not yet recovered.

"Do you give leave for this, my lady?" he asked raggedly.

"Yes." Before my answer was fully uttered, Faramir entered me with a mighty thrust. A sharp pain ripped through me,

"Forgive me Eowyn," he rasped, his eyes shut and his head thrown back.

Through the shock and a blur of quick tears I recognized that he was beautiful. He filled me completely.

He opened his eyes again fixing my gaze as he moved within me. He wiped away my startled tears and whispered my name as his gentle but insistent thrusts rocked my body.

The initial pain dimmed and was replaced by a sense of fullness and of growing pleasure. Boromir’s eyes were on me as well and my hand still moved upon him. But at this moment I was nearly unaware of him. It was over all too quickly.

"Eowyn!" With a jagged cry Faramir emptied himself into my still trembling body.

I think he would have lingered within and atop me. His look promised it. But I could see that this modest man believed he’d already taken more than was his due, both from me and from his brother. He moved off of me and Boromir quickly took his place.

I gave a small cry of dismay and Faramir captured my hand in his. I clenched it tightly as his brother (who did not ask for leave) pushed into me.

Again my body betrayed me. While it had moments ago promised itself to respond only to the touch of the younger son, it now bucked and rose to the bidding of the eldest. Boromir’s touch was less gentle, but no less skilled. Rising to his knees, now quite heedless of the cold, he grasped my hips in his hands and took me more deeply, so that the head of his shaft stabbed against my very womb.

I cried out in both pain and pleasure, ever aware of Faramir’s hand gripping my own. Though Boromir’s eyes were shut, I noted the concerned and contrite expression in Faramir’s own.

Even if he did not, I realized the futility of guilt this far into the venture. I cast my own beaten and bloodied sense of propriety into the void and allowed the rhythmic pumping of Boromir of Gondor within my body to bring me to a shattering climax.

He came with a grunt soon after and let himself collapse on top of me.

Boromir was the one who could not meet my eyes as he rolled to my side. I moved into Faramir’s embrace and the three of us huddled together, warm and breathing heavily, for several long minutes.

I did not allow myself to think, only noted abstractly that Faramir was aroused again. I instinctively moved my hands to caress him. But he caught them in his own.

"It is enough," he protested. I persisted and his hands fell away, allowing mine to pursue their course. Soon the sounds of his soft moans were filling our makeshift bed and his brother, again hard, was pressing his insistent flesh against my own.

"Both of us this time," he murmured into my ear.

"No." Faramir said sharply. "Boromir, she is not a whore to be so used."

I was not a whore, for I would take no coin. But to me, then and there, there was little other difference. I caressed Faramir, mesmerized by the sound of his soft unbidden groans. I would have him again at any price.

"Both," I said.

Faramir was still shaking his head to oppose the idea as his brother reached a calloused hand between my thighs from behind. He drew the slick residue of our previous couplings toward my other opening, stroking and probing to ease his impending passage. Every muscle in my body tensed at his touch. He must have sensed my reaction for though he did not still his own actions, he spoke to me.

"Be at ease Lady." His tone was far gentler than it had been. In my limited experience with the man he was rarely subtle, but he could at least be persuasive.

"Do not allow your body to fight this and it will hurt the less." His words were not entirely reassuring but I did trust that in this he knew better than I, for such an act was entirely outside of my experience. I fought my panic and attempted to will my entire body back into the languid relaxation I had felt just minutes before. I must have succeeded in at least presenting the outward signs of relaxation. "Good, my little one," Boromir breathed soothingly into my ear.

My limbs now obedient, he moved my leg so that it curled around his brother’s own, my thigh resting just above Faramir’s hipbone. Boromir shifted to bring himself closer, now rubbing the head of his thick member where his hand had been only moments ago.

Faramir however was still reluctant.

"No," he silently mouthed the word at me, a wary look of warning in his eyes. His body was not so reluctant. He was both flushed and breathless. As I felt the tip of his swollen manhood nudging at my soft inner folds a fresh wave of warmth washed over me. Boromir, now positioned to his satisfaction, brought both of his strong hands around my waist. I lifted a hand to Faramir’s troubled face.

"Please." I whispered urgently, for some reason anxious that he be inside of me before his brother.

Instead both men entered at once. I think I screamed aloud at the dual invasion. Boromir was not ungentle. But there was a pain inherent in the act itself. My mind reeled as I clung to Faramir, both arms around his neck and my head buried in his chest. The pair of them remained still for a long while and the searing pain retreated to be replaced by a dull ache. I was pinioned between them, hard flesh to the back and front of me and deep, deep within my own.

When I raised my eyes to Faramir’s the guilt I read there was unbearable. I felt the odd desire to comfort him. I laughed at the absurdity of the whim, but the sound that emerged was more like a sob.

"We will stop now if you wish it," Faramir whispered, stroking at my tear-streaked cheek with his palm. I could feel the quivering tension in both men’s bodies as they waited for my response.

"I have not changed my mind," I answered, trying to sound strong. In fact, in spite of the hurt, the closeness of these two bodies within and without me were beginning to cause a feeling that was altogether different from the pain, yet still strangely connected to it. I wondered at this then and still find it impossible to explain.

With a groan Boromir allowed my words to signal action. He moved within me, not roughly. But each thrust, no matter how slow and controlled, was a torment. Each movement also pushed me closer to Faramir, who began then to move in earnest. As his brother’s hands had found my waist, so Faramir’s arms encircled me, his hands gripping my shoulders, driving me down upon each of his thrusts.

The rhythm of our lovemaking was uneven. At times one man would enter me as another withdrew, at others both penetrated and filled me at once. For myself, I could not move at all. Locked between the two of them and impaled upon them I could only feel the hardness of their bodies, Faramir’s pressed tight against my womb and Boromir’s crushed against my backside. For long moments I wanted it to end, then I wanted it to go on forever. Both men were moaning their passion and my cries soon mingled with their own. I climaxed with Faramir, and the contractions produced within my flesh brought his older brother to an immediate release.

He slid from me, panting, and Faramir clutched me closer. His heart beat hard against my own as, eyes half shut he whispered to me.

"Eowyn, Eowyn. My own love."

Passion makes men say strange things… so I’d heard it said when listening unobserved to my brother’s unguarded conversations with his comrades. But Faramir’s eyes did not leave my own, and I sensed in them an honesty that went beyond spent passion. Of course I was not a practiced player in these games (in spite of the fact that I could now count as my own, an act some prostitutes would not willingly perform,) so I did not trust overmuch in his words.

I was in anguish and in the afterglow of ecstasy both at once, so could not count on my judgment. Which I had in any account obviously held in far too great an esteem from the start.

Both men slept before the chill began to once again overwhelm our small shelter. For myself, I could find no rest. I had hoped for rescue but now thought it might be better for myself and for my family if I were to die here and never be found. I wept, and Faramir woke to my weeping.

"Lady Eowyn," he said softly. I did not respond immediately and so he continued. "Please do not weep. There is no cause for weeping."

I laughed, a sound that was hollow to my own ears.

"Perhaps not," I said coldly, "for we may still die here. There is some consolation in that."

"We will not die," his tone was even and he looked me in the eye, reaching out to stroke my face. I caught his hand in mine and clung to it desperately.

"I should not live. My life would be a shame to my family and my name… to Edoras and Rohan."

"Lady," he interrupted before my words could lead me to a fresh onslaught of tears. "You must believe that what has happened here will go no farther than we three whether we live to tell the tale or not. You have my word and my brother’s as well. You may be certain of that." I nodded mutely and he gathered me tightly in his arms. "Do you trust that my word is my bond? And that my brother will be bound to it?"

"I do," I answered and did not lie. His words paired with the tenderness of his embrace calmed me. Perhaps this was a secret that could die with me… in an hour or in fifty years.

"That said my lady…" Faramir hesitated and I looked up at him again. "There is nothing to bind you to me, no threat to be held over your head." I pulled away slightly. He would ask something of me now, I was certain. "Eowyn," he continued. "My bond will hold, no matter your answer." His even gaze held me at rapt attention. "But I would consider myself well favored by fortune if you would consent to be my wife." I was stunned. What man would want such a wife? I struggled to keep my tears at bay. I could not hold him to his offer, nor tie him to a woman he felt honor bound to wed.

"You are a man of honor, Faramir," I replied. "But I would not ask this of you." He laughed then, a low rumble, and gently stroked my hair.

"Tis no noble sacrifice," he assured me. "I have wanted you since the moment we met, even loved you since that time. I would have preferred to have offered my hand under other circumstances, ‘tis true. But my feelings are no less now than they were." Intensity replaced amusement in his eyes. "I would marry you Eowyn because I wish it, and for no other reason."

"I also would do this thing." Faramir and I both started. Moments before we had been as if alone, but Boromir stirred and spoke, his presence a reminder of what had unfolded among us all. Sitting up, I scrutinized the eldest son of Gondor.

"You would take to wife a woman whom your brother had first?" I asked him. He shrugged, still evidently drowsy with sleep.

"It is a good match," he replied. "Though Faramir will owe me something on his own wedding night." Faramir tensed beside me and I turned back toward him.

"Would you ask the same of your brother were we to wed?"

"Never, my lady," he answered evenly. "I should be bound to you alone, and you to me. Nor would I share you again, with any man." I leaned to plant a small kiss on Faramir’s soft lips and smiled at him feeling suddenly and inappropriately shy.

"I will marry Faramir, my lord," I said turning back to Boromir, who had the good grace to try to hide his relief. He sat up with a smile.

"Then I wish you both joy, and if we survive this ordeal shall think of you only as a sister," he drew closer. "For the present, it grows cold again," he pressed a warm insinuating palm to my chilled back.

"No, Boromir," Faramir said roughly. "It is done. She is promised to me now and a wife is one thing that even brothers may not share." His steely tone brooked no argument but that did not stop Boromir from making a reply. He looked at Faramir in astonishment.

"You would die for this? But this is madness."

"Then call it madness," Faramir said, pulling me back into his arms. "But I will not yield on this point." I know not what might have happened next, for we heard clearly through the wind a voice calling from without. We all three reacted with a mixture of panic and relief. Faramir scrambled to throw my clothing at me as Boromir struggled into his own breeches. None of us was foolish enough to stay silent. We called out to our rescuers as we hurried into some semblance of propriety. We almost achieved it.

My own brother was first through the cave entrance, and upon seeing me he held up a hand, staying his unseen companions. Eomer took in the scene before him; his sister, now dressed but disheveled, Faramir in breeches and undertunic, and Boromir still struggling to pull his shirt over his naked chest. His eyes narrowed.

"What is this, Eowyn?" he commanded. "Have you come to harm?" At his words his hand fell to the hilt of his sword. I rushed to his side.

"No, Eomer," I stammered. "I am well. Their clothes became wet and they sought to dry them…" I waved a hand at the ashes of our long dead fire. The suspicion did not leave my brother’s eyes. Faramir, now fully dressed, approached us and received the full force of my brother’s glare. He did not quail.

"If your sister’s honor has been offended, Marshal of the Mark, then that offense shall quickly be repaired," he said softly. "I ask that your family give me leave to marry the lady Eowyn." Eomer’s eyes stayed locked with Faramir’s.

"Is this your wish, sister?" he asked.

"It is," I answered, moving to place my hand in Faramir’s. Questions evidently remained in Eomer’s mind. But it was a good offer, and well he knew it. He knew me as well and also realized that I would not enter into a match not to my liking. Nor would it be in my nature to leave an offense against my person unavenged. For these reasons he was forced to bide by my decision. With effort, he forced a more congenial tone.

"The king will be pleased," he said gruffly. Surveying our party anew and seeing us all now in a presentable state he called his men inside. They brought cloaks, blankets and fortifying liquor. After a short time we were ready to depart. Boromir approached Faramir as we left our small shelter for the last time.

"I may hope there is no ill feeling between us, little brother," he said seriously.

"None," came the sincere reply.

"And of the Lady?" Boromir turned to me. I shook my head.

"You will be as a brother to me, my lord Boromir." He took my hand and lifted it to his lips. Faramir shifted slightly but made no move to stop his brother as he kissed the back of my hand.

"It never happened," Boromir promised. "It is forgotten." But in his eyes I saw a different promise. A promise that he would never forget.

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