Mixed Messages

Mixed Messages


A prince remains patient for only so long before he gives in to the temptation of being anxious. Despite a royal upbringing there were still a few lasting things that caused the prince of the Riddermark to grimace and look at the setting sun. The delayed arrival of Gondor’s riding party was one of these. The Gondorians had been expected to arrive at noon and now as the shadows became longer; Theodred felt a small tendril of worry begin to move up his spine.

There; he stood straighter as he squinted in the dying light, there was a lone rider coming. From Gondor apparently, as his horse lacked the superior legs and head that was inherent in all Rohirrim horses. Theodred wished deeply that he could go and meet Boromir face to face, yet as a Prince it was beneath him to meet with any dignitary without them requesting his presence. With the political atmosphere being what it was in these dark times, no Rohirrim heir could be seen as weak.

Beregond rode hard, trying to beat the dying light from reaching Edoras before him. There were many pitfalls that a horse could fall into, and a step wrong could easily take the life of his horse. Despite the seeming emptiness of the dusky plain, the Gondorian knew that orcs were never far from man now in these dark timeis lis lord had sent him ahead with a message for Prince Theodred, and as Lord Boromir had told him, it was of the utmost importance. The party was late in coming, due to an earlier attack of orcs that had taken out three of the horses and injured a dozen men. There were no fatalities of the soldiers but it made for slow going as riders had to double up and extra guards be put out.

Gamling let him in, and the Gondorian rider rode up the ets ets before swiftly dismounting and making his way to Meduseld. He was met halfway by a blond Rohirrim with the insignia of the Royal house. He stopped and bowed, showing respect to the Prince of Rohan. “My lord, this message is for you, the Lord Boromir apologises for the delay. It was unavoidable and hopes that there has been no offence taken on your side.”

The Rohirrim frowned for a moment, and then nodded. “It is understandable sir...?”

The guard bowed his headeregeregond, my lord. Guard of the Citadel.”

The other man smiled and nodded. “I see. Please help yourself to the hospitality of Rohan, Beregond of the Citadel Guard.”

Eomer watched as the Gondorian gave his horse to a stable boy and strode up the stairs into the Golden Hall. It was strange that the Gondorian would be giving a message from Gondor to him, rather than his cousin. It was usually Theodred that had dealings with their southern neighbour. Breaking the seal, he unfurled the parchment and read:

It has been too long love, and I await you tonight.
Being in Rohan again has made me wish for another mount between my legs other than my horse. Tell me Golden One, do you think of me often? I dreamt of you last night, and I burn now for your touch. Will you meet with me tonight for I fear I cannot last long now without you between my sheets.

Tonight then. Meet me half way from Edoras and my travel party, I shall await you there.

Eomer stared at the letter, trying to restrain himself from reaching down towards the ties of breebreeches. Rereading it for a final time, the fourth Marshall of the Riddermark closed his eyes and shifted softly. Beregond was a very skilled writer, though he could not remember ever meeting him before. Thinking of the dark hair and grey eyes, he smiled slowly before trailing the letter over the hardness between his legs. So, the guard wished to meet him tonight did he? That could definitely be arranged.

Theodred stared at the Gondorian guard, a slow burn growing in the back of his mind. What was Boromir’s game then, to make him wait for the night and sleep in a cold bed? Surely the Heir to Gondor was as needy for the Rohirrim Prince’s touch as he was for his. Boromir had promised to send a message to him with the location of where they would meet, and yet all that had appeared today was a lone guard. With no, apparently, message for Theodred.

Glowering at the oblivious Gondorian, the man set out for the stables. If Boromir would not come to him, then he would come to his lover. Theodred was not above humbleness when he was this desperate for a tumble in the sheets, yet Boromir would have great difficulty in explaining to him what he was thinking by not coming to Meduseld. Saddling his horse, the Prince rode off in search of the Gondorian party; silently fuming at being snubbed by another man.

Beregond swallowed the last of his wine, trying not to be caught staring at the Prince. Or what he had thought to be the Prince, he thought dryly to himself. When he had overheard the King address the man as Eomer, his heart suddenly dropped into his stomach. His liege lord had entrusted that letter into his hands, had made him swear to hand it Prince Theodred personally. Not only had he failed Lord Boromir, he had been told by a passing servant that the Prince had gone for a ride and no one knew when he was expected back. Beregond had swiftly gone from a trusted servant to an incompetent one. The possibility of going back to his party and telling his lord that he had delivered the letter to the wrong Rohirrim was not an ideal one.

The only other option however, was not pleasant either. How did a foregin guard go about telling one of the highest ranking men in the country that he had made a mistake and could he please have the letter back? Abject humiliation either way, though he would prefer to embarrass himself before the Rohirrim instead of having the Lord Boromir know how foolish his own servant had been. Damned either way he left the table and trailed down to where the Marshall had gone, strangely enough to the same place he had met him before.

Boromir tapped his foot with his sword, waiting. It had been a long time, too long for this to be just a simple delay. Did Theodred not know how much he was needed here at the moment, did he not care? He had travelled hard to get here and had pushed his men hard as well. Yet still Theodred delayed, wasting time when he could have been here where he was most needed; between Boromir’s legs. Could it be that the orcs had attacked yet again? The thought gave the Gondorian pause. Night assaults were not unheard of, and with Theodred journeying alone the Rohirrim would make a good target for a large p of of Orcs. Frowning, he began to worry when he heard to the left of him the soft thunder of an oncoming horse.

“My lord?” Beregond’s hesitant query was almost swallowed by the darkness. Eomer however, did stop when he had called. Walking quickly towards the Marshall, Beregond took a deep breath to explain the mistake. He did get get a chance as the Rohirrim suddenly turned swiftly around and kissed him deeply on the mouth. Stunned, Beregond froze as the other man took a leisurely exploration of the Gondorian guard’s lips with his tongue before tilting his head sideways and going further.

Eomer smiled softly as the guard suddenly clenched his fists. Trapping Beregond’s wrists in his hands, he pushed the Gondorian’s arms to his side before wrapping one arm around the other man and pulling the guard against him. “You taste sweet Beregond,” Eomer whispered against the guard’s ear. “Like honey. Tell me, would you taste sweet elsewhere as well? Shall I find out?” Not giving the guard a chance to answer he kissed him again, trailing his hands up and over the front of the man’s breeches and undid the ties.

Sighing in resignation, Beregond wrapped his arms around the Rohirrim; giving up hope of fixing the problem.

“It certainly took you long enough to get here, why did you keep me waiting so long? I was getting concerned!” Boromir snapped at Theodred as he watched his lover dismount and stalk over to him. He refused to admit that he had been more than concerned, that he had been thinking of all the horrible things that could happen to a lone rider in the night.

“I could ask you the same question Boromir! Why did you not come to Rohan? If you wanted to meet me here you could have told me so, or at least sent someone to say where you would be. I cannot believe you to be so arrogant to make me come at your beck and call. I am not your bitch, Boromir!”

Angry words that hung in the air between the two men. The Gondorian was the first to break the silence. “Did Beregond not come to you? Has no messenger arrived? For I did send one to you; truly Theodred, I did. If he did not arrive...” Boromir trailed off thinking off the possibilities. If Beregond had not arrived then the orcs-

“He did arrive, but he carried no message for me.” Theodred answered softly. Perhaps there was an explanation besides that of excessive pride, besides which there was no reason to cause the man undue pain over the guard.

Boromir jerked his head up. No message? “Beregond was sent there toiveriver a message to you, to tell you where to meet me. Did he not deliver it? Tell me plainly Theodred; what has he been doing there?”

The Rohirrim looked at his lover, saw the honest confusion in his eyes and forgave him. Obviously it was not the man’s fault that the messenger had not done his duty. “Boromir, your messenger has only spoken to my cousin. He handed Eomer a letter and then was sent to the kitchens to refresh himself. He gave no letter to me.”

Boromir stared at Theodred for a moment, almost unbelieving. “Eomer??”

“Eomer!” Beregond called out, throwing his head back as the sensations assaulting him became too much. He had not known that the Rohirrim were so skilled with their tongues. Obviously, he had been kept from very useful information. It had only taken a short while before the guard had completely forgotten about the misplaced letter and the need to correct his folly. Wrapping his fingers in blond hair he looked down to where the Marshall had placed his head, directly between the Gondorian’s thighs. “Aah...” Beregond moaned softly as he watched the man lick him before sucking softly at the hard flesh. “Please...” Eomer glanced up and smirked at the pleading guard.

“It does not take much for you to beg for my attentions, does it Beregond? Truly,” Eomer said in between licks “truly I do believe that you are a whore at heart. Are you a whore Beregond?” The Rohirrim grinned as his words caused the guard to flush and look away while hardening further. “Will you beg me to ride you, to be taken like a bitch hound in heat? Are you desperate for me Beregond? Tell me that you are or I shall not touch you further tonight. Do you long to be ridden?”

Shame faced and needy, the Gondorian nodded. “Aye lord, please... take me. I need this, I need you in me.”

The answering smirk could have lit up Mordor.

“He must have thought that Eomer was you,” Boromir mused to himself. “You do look alike and I had told him that the Prince could be seen wearing the insignia of the royal house. I did not realise that both you and he wore the same one. He must have given my message to...” Theodred frowned at the expression of horror on the man’s face. “What is it love? What has happened?”

Boromir groaned and then laughed, pulling Theodred towards him and kissing him soundly. “Just that Beregond may be getting a far different reward than I had thought to give him for delivering my letter. Let us leave it at that. I have missed your touch far too much.” Smiling, he led his lover down to lie on the grass before reaching for the ties of his shirt. “Come; let me show you how much I have missed you.”


Beregond chewed at his lip, the feeling of Eomer’s chest sliding against his back caused him to thrust back against the Rohirrim’s hips. He had never expected this, had never believed it could happen. When he had been assigned as a guard to Lord Boromir’s party the mental image of being laid out on the grass with his legs spread had not flashed through his mind. And all this, he thought, because of a misplaced letter of all things. A sharp thrust made him gasp as his new lover bit him hard on the shoulder.

Despite Eomer’s words he had been a gentle rider, or had been until the man under him had urged him on. This dark haired man from the south was pushing all of his limits, meeting him thrust for thrust in their coupling. Eomer had never felt anything like it before, as most maidens in Rohan either submitted delicately to his attentions or rebuffed him.

Beregond on the other hand seemed to enjoy the challenge of being mastered by a Marshall of Rohan, and had no qualms about taking any and all of what Eomer could press into him. Sighing gently as Eomer collapsed onto him, he rolled over and kissed the other man. Whatever happened with the dawn, Beregond would allow to happen.

Theodred stared silently at the night sky as he lay naked on the grass on top of Boromir. The other man was snoring softly, exhausted after the evening’s activities. The argument had quickly been finished with and they had both shared a good laugh over Beregond’s predicament. The Rohirrim Prince bit his lip, snickering over what would happen when the Gondorian guard found himself stuck with his cousin for several years. Eomer could become quite attached to his ‘conquests’ once he had found one that could meet his physical prowess. Sighing, he closed his eyes and rested his head on Boromir’s chest. He would escort his lover’s travel party with the utmost dignity; and when he was safely behind thick walls he would laugh himself sick at the expression Beregond’s face. Perhaps he would even explain to the poor man what he had gotten himself into.

End.