The Shortest Distance by mcguffan ive it back! I had it first!" The indignant shriek brought me out of my reverie with a start. Merry and Pippin were tussling at the other end of the boat. Pippin had gotten his hands on the last morsel of elfish cake that had been rationed to the pair of hobbits for the day. Pippin was struggling to get free of his cousin's grasping hands long enough to stuff the pastry into his mouth. Merry, however, knew the stakes were high and was putting up a valiant offensive. Finally, Merry landed a blow on Pippin's wrist. Pippin's hand spasmed open sending the cake arcing high over the edge of the boat. The two hobbits wore twin expressions of dismay as their prize sailed majestically toward the water. I reached my hand out and just managed to catch the pastry. I heard the hobbits sigh with relief. Merry even clapped his hands with delight at my heroics. Their expressions soon changed to shocked betrayal, however, as I grinned wickedly then opened my mouth wide as if to consume the sweet myself. I couldn't contain my laughter as I watched them. I took only the smallest bite from the cake before returning it to Pippin. "Share!" I ordered trying to sound stern and fooling no one. Pippin broke the pastry into rough halves and handed one portion to his cousin. Their quarrel now forgotten the hobbits sat down to concentrate on the serious business of eating. I felt a genuine affection—no, love, it is not too strong a word for Merry and Pippin. They had kept me from becoming consumed by my own inner turmoil. I have heard some say that hobbits are like children. I could not say. I know nothing about children, but I have never known the hobbits to behave with anything but courage even dignity in times of true peril. In a company that did not lack for bravery Merry and Pippin were alone willing to be silly if being silly would bring them or their companions a lightened heart. After a short time my thoughts drifted away from the hobbits and my gaze returned to the lead boat where I could see Aragorn standing at the prow. He stood as though he were lord of all he surveyed and I was overcome with a wave of despair for the man could not even stand in a boat without driving me near to madness with ambivalence. I now regretted that I had not told Aragorn all that I had meant to in Lórien. Perhaps my mind had still been clouded by the Witch's accusation. Gods damn the elf. She sits there; safe and secure in her little kingdom and watches the rest of Middle-Earth slowly go to hell in her magic mirror or crystal ball or whatever her sacred elfish magic is that is supposed to send us lesser beings to our knees in awe. Then she dares treat me as though I were a promising child who has quickly disappointed expectations. Oh, the great elf bitch acted so very genteel but she was not above a little mind grope. I have seen better manners in a whorehouse. As I have been thinking about the Witch my face has contorted in rage. I struggle to calm myself and return to my original thought. In truth, I think that even without the appalling arrogance of the Lórien elves I would still not have been completely candid with Aragorn. I was still too uncertain. I was still too... afraid? I have finally noticed that our very own elf has been staring at me from the third boat. He is frowning deeply. I give him a cheery grin and the elf looks away. I return my gaze to Aragorn. Perhaps the elf thinks I am casting covetous glances upon the ring and its bearer. Or perhaps not. Ever since the Council the elf has appointed himself Aragorn's protector. On the few occasions I seemed just about able to approach Aragorn with my thoughts the elf would appear out of nowhere to divert one or the other of us. Maybe I should tell the elf his concern is misplaced: Aragorn needs no protection from me. I could never harm him. I would gladly... But, no. It sounds too much like an apology and I have nothing to be sorry for. I had every right to voice my opinions concerning Gondor. It was the elf who spoke out of turn. Part of my difficulty is that I am still unsure about what exactly I need to say. I know I must say something, that some decision has to be made and soon, but what. Of course the ring has much to do with my trouble, so much is obvious. I do desire the ring. I have not the gift, like Faramir, to see clearly through arcane things but I know that Gondor's troubles will not end with Sauron's head on a pike. But without the defeat of Sauron nothing else can be done. I distrust the ring as I distrust all things magical, but why should not magic be made to serve men—just this once. The elves—with their power and immortality speak of corrupting influences while human children starve. The whole business reeks of hypocrisy and hidden motive. If Sauron could be eliminated quickly then we could direct all our energy to solving real problems that have nothing to do with who provoked whom millennia ago. Why can't Aragorn see that? I know Aragorn has thought beyond Sauron. We have talked on this journey of Gondor and his knowledge of my City astonishes me. He has traveled everywhere. He knows the different customs and practices of all sorts of people. He knows what sort of governance works best in what circumstances. It is fascinating to listen to him. He will make a truly great king; that is, he would if Gondor needed such a thing. I would have liked to speak to him about the ring and... other matters during these talks but the ringbearer hangs about him like a second Anduril. Aragorn is so stern, almost severe, and yet with the ringbearer he is heart achingly gentle. Sometimes I cannot bear to watch as the ringbearer tugs lightly on Aragorn's sleeve causing the man to lean down and sweep the weary hobbit up into his arms. Or, even worse the ringbearer will frequently slip his hand into Aragorn's as the group travels over rough terrain. Though, it is physically painful to see I can never tear my eyes away from their joined hands. Aragorn has stood motionless for so long that I flinch when he finally turns. For the briefest of moments I believe that he knows my thoughts and that he has turned to deliver judgment upon me. But no, there is a break ahead in the high cliffs that rise up on either side of the river and he is signaling us towards it. I am glad that we shall stop for a time. I have given myself a headache with all this endless brooding. I know myself. I will never be able to follow my tangled thoughts through to a resolution of these matters. I know I must take some action soon; I must talk to Aragorn. Then I will know if I am truly a part of this Fellowship. Then I will know if he is to be my enemy or my salvation. Then all will finally be decided, one way or another. Gimli grunted in greeting as I trudged up the small hill to our makeshift camp carrying the last bit of gear for two very lazy hobbit cousins. I answered in kind as I sat next to the dwarf. I watched the ringbearer approach Aragorn. "Strider, I'd like to take a little walk, stretch my legs a bit." 'Gods damn it' I mentally screamed at the hobbit. 'His name is Aragorn, Aragorn, you feckless little dilettante.' It was one thing for Merry and Pippin and even Sam to say 'Strider'. They meant no disrespect and probably didn't know any better. But when the ringbearer said 'Strider' it sounded as though he were saying 'my knight' or 'my champion' and that was unacceptable. I wanted nothing at that moment so much as to take that chain the hobbit wore around his neck and strangle him with it. As I seethed the conversation continued: "It is not good for you to be about on your own, little one. Perhaps I should go with you." "Please don't trouble yourself. I'll stay close, I promise." Aragorn looked unhappy but he finally nodded. The ringbearer gave him a smile of thanks then turned to go. As he moved off Sam got up to follow him but the ringbearer said: "Why don't stay here with Merry and Pippin, Sam. I won't be gone long." "You'll not be going far now, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked sitting back down, rather disappointed. "Not to worry, Sam." The ringbearer replied leaving the camp. "Strider?" Sam turned toward Aragorn with a plaintiff expression. "Let him have a little time, Sam." Aragorn replied sympathetically. "He always did need space to himself, even back home." The hobbit commented miserably. I felt a stab of pity for Sam. He just wanted to help but his constant attention was probably as fatiguing as the ring for the other hobbit. Well, it was none of my business. Shrugging I returned to my conversation with Gimli. The dwarf had just picked something black out of his beard and said with infinite disgust: "Cursed insects." Gimli was a fine companion. He had endless endurance and was as dependable as a rock. He did not sing often but when he did the songs were about women, gold or his homeland, which were what songs should be about. I gave his observations a few moments consideration before I delivered my opinion: "Mrrmph." I said. For me the absence of the ringbearer made for a much more comfortable camp. I began to think that now might be a good opportunity to take Aragorn aside. I could tell, however, that the man was in no mood to talk. He had taken his pipe out but had not lit it. His eyes wandered frequently toward the direction from which the ringbearer had left and the small crease between his brows made me think he was listening closely for something. I sighed. It would probably be best if I went to fetch the missing hobbit. As I thought about it I realized there were a few things I had to say to the ringbearer while I was about it. Just as I was about to rise and seek the hobbit, I heard a sharp cry. "Strider!" Aragorn was up and running before the sound had died in the air. The rest of us scrambled up and followed as quickly as we could. The ringbearer had truly not traveled far and Aragorn reached him swiftly. The hobbit was shaking his head—probably denying to Aragorn that he was in any way injured—and pointing towards the beach. All three of our boats were engulfed in flames. Aragorn and I struggled to douse the burning boats. Four frightened hobbits watched from the beach. Gimli was pacing and cursing. He wanted to help but Aragorn and I were both up to our waists in the water and I remember Gimli telling me earlier that dwarves did not swim. The elf must have seen something of the arsonist for he had run off into the woods drawing his bow as the rest of us hurried to fight the fire. When we had finally managed to put out the flames there was very little left of our boats. We had hauled what remained onto the beach and I noticed that I had gotten something black and viscous onto my hands from my struggle with the boats. I was about to wipe the stuff off onto my tunic when Aragorn caught my wrists. I was surprised, first by his action and second because I did nothing to free myself from his grasp. Aragorn brought my unresisting hand up to his face and sniffed at the oily blackness. "It is goblin fire." He said transferring both of my wrists to his left hand and bending down to pick up a piece of driftwood from the beach. "The enemy uses this to fire villages and cities as well as merchant ships. I have heard it said that enough of this will cause wet rock to burn." As he spoke, Aragorn scrubbed the dark ooze off my hands with the driftwood, careful to keep any from getting onto my clothes. When he was finished he gave my still unaccountably unresisting hands an absent-minded squeeze and threw the driftwood far out onto the river. By this time the elf had returned to us. "Did you discover who did this?" Aragorn asked the archer. "What kind of creature it was, I could not get close enough to tell. I shot and hit but my arrow was nearly spent and I doubt it caused much injury." Aragorn nodded at this report and thought for a moment before he began issuing orders. "Legolas, I need to know how many are coming and how soon they will be upon us." The archer nodded and loped off towards the forest. "Merry, Pippin, Sam, strike camp. Bring everything back here." The named hobbits ran off and the fourth shifted his weight from foot to foot unsure whether or not to follow his comrades. Aragorn saw the ringbearer's confusion and said quietly though still in a tone of command: "Stay right here, Frodo. I want you to help me with what is left of the boats." "Boromir, Gimli, go into the forest, cut down eight or nine trees with trunks about the height of a man and perhaps so big around." He mimed the desired circumference. Gimli fingered his ax and grinned before running off. As I followed the dwarf into the trees I could hear a frightened hobbit's voice ask softly "What is going on?" What was going on was obvious. We had been out maneuvered. Our only escape had been burned right under our nose. With our backs to the river there could be little doubt that an army of the enemy was converging onto this narrow spit of land to crush us. The only factors in our favor were that we had gained a little time by discovering the burning boats sooner than might have been expected and that the narrow pass from the beach up the cliffs to the woods was highly defensible. I examined the pass as I followed the dwarf on our mission to the forest. It was wide enough for perhaps five men to stand abreast. Sheer rock face rose up on either side of the pass. There was no way an enemy would be able to sneak around behind us. If we had enough time to fortify our position the four warriors among us could hold the pass till doomsday. I smiled grimly to myself: if the enemy was expecting easy meat they would be bitterly disappointed. A sword is not the best tool for woodcraft. I hacked at my chosen tree with a great deal of frustration. Gimli had already felled his first tree and was busy cutting the tree again where the trunk began to branch out so as to create a log about six feet long. Even if I had an ax I don't think I could have matched the dwarf in either speed or force. His ax swung as rhythmically as a pendulum. Very quickly Gimli had the first log ready. He must have read the admiration in my eyes for he shrugged. "When you have grown up hewing through stone, wood is not much of a challenge." I nodded in agreement. "It will be quicker if you concentrate on chopping and I begin taking the stakes back to Aragorn." Gimli assented to this division of labor and I gratefully sheathed my sword and took hold of the recently cut beam. As I dragged the sixth log to the beach I saw that the elf had returned from scouting. "There are perhaps five hundred orcs moving towards us. There are also other creatures, bigger and fouler." With these last words the elf closed his eyes, trying to dispel the mental image of something 'fouler' than an orc. "They should be upon us in little more than an hour." Then the elf added rather unnecessarily. "We have little time." "Is there any hope you might slip through their lines with Frodo?" Aragorn asked. The elf shook his head. "I might just make it through by myself; but with Frodo it would be impossible." Aragorn looked as though he had expected as much but was still disappointed. "Legolas, take the three hobbits and gather whatever aber tubers you can find or any other sort of vine with a decent tensile strength that can be quickly woven into rope." The ringbearer looked unhappy about again being kept from useful activity, but Aragorn was not about to let that particular hobbit go traipsing about the woods looking for plant life at this point. "Also gather as many conoru leaves as you can find. I want to make our little craft as water resistant as possible." I had been lingering to hear the elf's report, but it was not until Aragorn's last sentence that I finally realized that we were building a raft so that the ringbearer might escape this trap. I had thought only about how best to make our final stand and thus simply assumed that we were preparing some sort of barricade with which to defend the pass. I had completely forgotten that our primary mission was to protect the ringbearer and keep the ring from the enemy. First, I felt terribly foolish for missing the obvious, but these feelings soon gave way to a renewed optimism. After all it might just work. If we could get the ringbearer safely away and then hold the orcs at the pass for just a few hours. The enemy might never come to learn any had escaped their trap. Imagine, then, their confusion when the ring was not found on any of our bodies nor hidden anywhere on the beach. The thought nearly made me chuckle. Things were looking up. I continued to haul logs as Gimli tirelessly felled trees. The raft was beginning to take shape. As I returned to the beach sweating and grunting with exertion I saw Aragorn. His fingers skillfully braided vines into rope but his eyes were fixed on the little craft. Something about the intensity of his gaze made me uneasy. "Is anything amiss?" I asked, speaking softly so the ringbearer—who was several yards away stirring some concoction that Aragorn must have created over a small fire—could not hear us. Aragorn did not turn his gaze from the raft. "It is too small." he said. His voice was flat and emotionless. I saw what he meant. The ringbearer could escape and perhaps one or even two with him but that was all. "Merry and Pippin?" I asked, though there was no hope in my voice. "They will have to remain with us." Aragorn spoke in the same flat tone. It was one thing for warriors trained to battle and dedicated to fighting the enemy but thinking of the sweet and carefree hobbit cousins destined to meet their doom here in a hopeless battle was a hard thing. Still the hobbits for all their naïveté were not children. They had understood the risks and chosen to accept them. I honored them for their bravery. "Fate is often cruel. I would have liked to see the little ones come through all of this." I said sadly. For the first time Aragorn looked at me. What I saw in his eyes shocked me. It was pure unadulterated self-hatred. "'Fate' can hardly be blamed, Boromir. In a war what difference can there be between two enemies when both are willing to sacrifice innocents to accomplish their ends. Ah, but there is indeed a difference, for Sauron never claimed to be virtuous. Sauron never spoke of protecting and caring for helpless ones. Sauron never befriended them only to lead them to their death whereas I. I have done all these things." "Aragorn!" I cried. He could not truly believe what he was saying. In my astonishment I spoke louder than I had intended. The ringbearer jumped up and hurried towards us. "Is something the matter?" The hobbit asked, clearly upset. I gave the ringbearer a menacing glare for interfering where he wasn't wanted. Aragorn needed the support of someone who understood what it was like to be responsible for other people's lives. He did not need a scared little hobbit fluttering about him. The ringbearer caught me glowering and placed his small hand on Aragorn's hip. It was just like the hobbit to seek safety from Aragorn. But there was something else, something about the way the ringbearer stood, something about the way he met my gaze. There was something protective even propritorial about the ringbearer's gesture. The protectiveness in the ringbearer's posture enraged me. Though it went against every principle of my soul I believe I would have struck him. Aragorn, though, had recovered mastery of himself. "Do not worry, little one, nothing is wrong. I need you to keep stirring the conoru leaves, please Frodo, or else the paste will harden." The ringbearer was obviously reluctant to leave us but there was no easy way around Aragorn's request. With a final baleful glance in my direction the ringbearer returned to the fire. When the hobbit was again out of earshot Aragorn turned back to me. The almost violent self-hatred I had just seen in his eyes seemed to have subsided. "I apologize, Boromir. I had no right to take it out on you." Was the man mad? He wasn't taking it out on me; he was taking it out on himself. I racked my brain for something to say that might possibly make Aragorn see reason. Before I could come up with anything, Aragorn spoke again. "You need not worry. All that may yet be done shall be done." I think he was trying to smile reassuringly at me but there was too much pain in his eyes to say for certain. He was trying to comfort me! He had just compared himself to Sauron and he was worried about my feelings. I was still standing in stunned silence when Aragorn said: "I wouldn't be surprised if Gimli has cut another log by now for the strength and dedication of this fellowship is beyond all expectation." It was a clear dismissal. What made it worse was that he had dismissed the ringbearer in the same fashion: a word of comfort followed by a reminder of the task at hand. I wished to stay but I did not know how to help Aragorn and I feared that he might believe that I too blamed him for our situation if I simply stood there staring at him. I returned to Gimli in the forest greatly disappointed with myself for saying nothing. It was not until I had reached the trees that I realized the oddest part of the whole encounter: Throughout everything Aragorn had continued to work. He had never once ceased braiding vines into rope. Close to three-quarters of an hour later the eight remaining members of the fellowship stood together on a narrow beach and surveyed our handiwork. "She will win no prize for beauty." Gimli commented, no doubt accurately. "Let her float and I will be content." Aragorn smiled, managing to conceal all the signs of his earlier anguish. In truth, the little vessel looked more than river worthy. She had a rudder made from the salvaged skeletons of our original boats as well as two oars that had escaped the goblin fire. Aragorn had even equipped her with a mast and sails made from spare cloaks hastily cut and sewn together. The logs Gimli had hewn were of strong healthy wood and bound together by strands of vine woven into elfish braids. The 'rope' was then secured in knots that were confusing for me to even look at. Finally, the bottom of the craft had been liberally coated with some paste apparently known only to those deeply schooled in ranger lore that was made from crushing a certain kind of leaf with a certain kind of berry then heating the mixture. The stuff hardened very quickly and behaved sort of like lacquer. The hobbits had already gone through all our gear and moved all the necessities as well as most of the food into the ringbearer and Sam's packs. We were ready to launch. "Frodo, Sam, its time." Aragorn said Sam merely bowed his head but the ringbearer was not ready to accept the inevitable. "Strider, no!" the hobbit cried, eyes glittering. "Come little one or all our frantic toil will be in vain." Aragorn replied. "I won't leave you all here." The hobbit insisted. For the first time I could bring myself to pity the ringbearer—Frodo. It is a terrible thing to watch others sacrifice for you. "We all made our choices in Rivendell. I stand by mine. Will you balk now, Frodo of the Shire?" The elf asked quietly. Frodo seemed about to argue when Merry spoke up. "Come on, Frodo, the raft doesn't look that dangerous. You'll probably hurt Strider's feelings if you don't at least give it a try." Frodo made a sort of strangled gaspy sound and then threw himself into the other hobbit's arms, and then it seemed as though all four of them had collapsed in on each other. All one could see for several moments was the squeezing of shoulders and the stroking of backs. When they finally broke apart, Pippin put one hand on Frodo and the other on Sam and said "When you two return to the Shire and you're heroes and all on account of destroying the ring, I want you to see to it that they name a pub after me." With that he kissed each of them once more and retreated a few steps away with Merry. Then I found that there was no one between me and the ringbearer. I felt slightly awkward as I looked into Frodo's wet eyes. Finally, I held my hand out to him and he touched it briefly. We had not been friends. It would be pointlessly sentimental to pretend otherwise now. When Frodo had moved on I bent down and embraced Sam. "Good luck to you, then, Mr. Boromir." The hobbit said to me. "Good luck to you, Master Samwise." I responded. Gimli embraced each hobbit and received from each a kiss upon his bearded cheek. The elf had dropped to one knee to say his good byes. Frodo and the elf exchanged kisses and clasped each other's arms before drawing closer to rest chest to chest. The elf kissed Sam's forehead after briefly embracing him. Then he pushed a sandy curl back behind Sam's ear. To my surprise, Sam returned the favor and tucked a few strands of blond hair back behind the elf's own slightly pointed ear. Then the two grinned at one another. When Frodo reached Aragorn my mouth went dry and I started to feel sick to my stomach. The hobbit threw his arms around Aragorn's neck and locked his fingers. In turn Aragorn's own arms tightly encircled the hobbit's waist. Suddenly, I was seized with an almost irresistible desire to run forward and snatch the ring from around the ringbearer's neck. The thought of Merry and Pippin held me back as did the knowledge that to get that ring I would have to go through Aragorn. Frodo was now whispering urgently to Aragorn who was shaking his head and whispering back. After a few moments Frodo was still whispering and clutching Aragorn around the neck. The ranger gently reached back and broke Frodo's grip. He brought the hobbit's hands in front of him and kissed them lightly. Frodo wore an expression of despair as he continued to whisper until finally he demanded loud enough for the company to hear: "You must promise!" Aragorn answered just as loudly, but all he said was "no." The two locked eyes but it was Frodo who looked away first. Aragorn had loosened his grip on Frodo's wrists and the hobbit again threw his arms around the man. When they broke apart Frodo again spoke softly. This time Aragorn smiled and I could hear him say, "that I will promise." Frodo then boarded the raft. After Aragorn said farewell to Sam, the raft was pushed into the water where it was quickly caught by the current. We had done everything we could to protect the ringbearer, now there was just one more task awaiting the fellowship. We made our way up the beach to the pass where the battle was to take place. I could not yet see the approaching horde but the elf estimated that we had perhaps ten minutes more. Aragorn laid out our battle strategy, such as it was. I was to take the left side of the pass; Aragorn would take the center and Gimli, the right side. The three of us would stand together like a wall. The narrow pass would not only keep the orcs from surrounding us but only two orcs at most would be able to attack any one of us at a time. The elf was to stand in the second line and fire his arrows. Later the elf could replace someone in the front line for a while and thus we could hold off exhaustion by allowing short rests now and then. I had tried to convince Aragorn to give me the center spot which was also the most dangerous on the grounds that I was the only one with a shield. Aragorn had said no and refused to discuss the matter further. I shivered slightly thinking that death could not be as absolute as Aragorn's 'no'. "What about us, Strider?" Merry finally asked. "You two, keep the water bags full, bind any bleeding wounds when anyone in the front line is replaced and keep your swords sharp when the front line breaks it will all be over very quickly." These were make-tasks and the hobbits knew it. "We may not be warriors, Strider, but perhaps we could take a turn in the front line as well." Pippin put in with determination. I felt my heart ache for the brave hobbits. "I have sparred with them, Aragorn. I think together they could hold a place in line." This comment earned me two grateful smiles. Aragorn finally nodded but told the hobbits not to try and swap places before watching the elf and dwarf trade positions. We would be at our most vulnerable when someone was moving in or out of line. Throughout all this the elf had kept one eye on the horizon. By now, though, all of us could see the approaching army. There was still perhaps five minutes before battle would be joined. Aragorn took a deep breath. I knew what he was about to say. It was what any competent captain would say. I had said the same sort of thing myself countless times as the enemy closed in. He would praise our courage and remind us of the importance of what we did. He would soothe our fears and strengthen our resolve until there was a bare minute left. Then we would take up our positions and each of us would spend his remaining time thinking, praying or cursing as our individual natures dictated. Somehow—at that moment—the knot of worries, fears and doubts that had been a giant tangle in my brain twisting my actions and catching all my best intentions since this quest began came undone and I saw my way clearly. Perhaps it was the absence of the ring. Perhaps the imminent danger forced my mind to finally accept what my heart had known for a long time. Perhaps I was simply ready. But whatever the reason my confusion was over and the world made sense again. "Aragorn." I called out. The man was slightly taken aback. He apparently had not been expecting any trouble from me at this late stage. "Aragorn." I said again. I started to feel my throat close up and panic set in. I had to do this but the words were not coming. "Aragorn," I tried a third time. "You... you must accept my oath of allegiance now. The company shall bear witness." This was probably an unconventional way to offer fealty but I didn't care. I had taken the hardest step. Now I had the attention of the entire fellowship. The elf looked as though he suspected me of playing some foolish and highly dangerous prank. The hobbits could not decide whether to stare at me, at Aragorn, at the approaching orcs or at each other. Gimli looked pleased with my decision but disgusted with my timing. I could not read Aragorn's expression at all. "I have nothing to offer to make such a vow binding, Boromir." Aragorn said quietly. The bond between a man and his liege lord was essentially a very special kind of contract and no contract whether it be to take a wife or to buy a pig would be valid unless both parties gave. A king would usually offer a subject in exchange for his loyalty: protection, land, money, honors or even justice and fair dealing. Aragorn was an exiled ranger trapped on a miserable breath of land surrounded by orcs. He was in a position to grant none of those things. How annoyingly typical of the man to think first of his own duties and responsibilities to others. I felt panic rise within me again. I had to make him see that that didn't matter. I had to make him see that he had already given me so much. I had to make him see that though I had been a stupid fool I had meant well and if he rejected me now I would always be a traitor in my own heart. "I am a man of Gondor. I love my city. She is everything to me. You must let me die a good and faithful servant of her true king." I was not sure if I was begging or commanding, but I was so terrified he would tell me 'no'. I was afraid he would tell me that I had had plenty of opportunities and now it was too late. I stared into his gray eyes trying to communicate all those things I should have said but did not say. The waiting felt like forever, though it could not have been more than a few seconds. Neither one of us had forgotten where we were or what was coming towards us. "Come here, then, and kneel." I could not keep the relief from my face as I went to him and dropped to my knees. I felt strangely vulnerable and a little frightened but I also felt that this was somehow right. When I pressed my palms together and held my hands out to Aragorn I noticed that they were ice cold but they didn't shake. Aragorn's hands were warm and dry and it seemed to me very strong as they covered mine. I would have to improvise most of the oath. It had been years since last I had heard a pledge of fealty and I had never heard what one pledged to a king. I didn't mind though, that is how it must have been in the beginning: simply a man speaking his heart. "I, Boromir, son of Denethor, steward of Gondor, swear allegiance to Aragorn son of Arathorn giving him my life, my service and my love to use at his need. I promise him my sword in war, my council in peace and my obedience to his commands always." After I had spoken these words I took a deep breath and waited for his reply. "I, Aragorn son of Arathorn, accept Boromir as my liege-man and acknowledge his oath. Whatever power is in me I swear to use in the best interests of our city and I promise to Boromir my trust, my friendship and my love." I believe I trembled a little at his last sentence but his hands on mine held me steady. "So witnessed." I heard a sweet musical voice that I realized must be the elf. "So witnessed." came the gruff voice of Gimli. "So witnessed." chorused Merry and Pippin. With the final acknowledgment my lord released me and offered a hand to help me to my feet. A little self-consciously I took his hand and touched it quickly to my lips before I was hauled upright. When I was on my feet I looked into Aragorn's eyes and I read there the truth of his oath: trust, friendship and love. I stood at my king's side and waited for the tide of orcs to hit us. The first orcs to hit us were coming so fast and were under such pressure from those behind that they would skewer themselves on our swords if we could but hold our weapons straight. I was glad to have my shield to block the orcs' forward momentum. I reconsidered the practicality of allowing Merry and Pippin to stand against the ocean of orcs. I felt certain that some of the enemy in the middle ranks were crushed to death between those in front whose forward momentum had been halted and those behind eagerly clamoring to enter the fray. I had no way of keeping track of time during that battle. I had long since stopped hearing the snick of the elf's arrows behind me. I wondered if he had replaced Gimli in line yet or not. I could see nothing of my rightmost companion and I caught only occasional glimpses of Aragorn and Anduril from my peripheral vision. Blood and other matter was splattered everywhere. Sweat and other less pleasant things dripped into my eyes. The ground beneath my feet was sodden with trampled orc carcasses and the earth had become mud. There was no elegance or precision in this battle. It was pure butchery. After what could have been hours, the orcs finally attacked us with some sense of organization. They no longer simply hurled their bodies at us, but they now approached more slowly and engaged us in single combats that almost resembled duels, only in these duels as soon as one enemy was defeated another appeared immediately to take his place. My breath was not coming as easily as it had in the beginning and my arms and legs seemed to be getting heavier by the moment. I was far from finished but my strength was flagging and every sword stroke was an effort. Suddenly I saw a spear sail towards me. I raised my shield but whether fatigue made me slow or I simple misjudged the angle, the spear flew behind my shield and struck me in the chest. Upon impact the metal point came loose from the shaft and the long wooden pole fell harmlessly to the ground. I felt the spear point graze my skin but there was not the explosion of pain that accompanies major damage. After two more "duels" I had forgotten about the incident. I was about to finish off yet another orc when I heard my name called from behind. It was Merry and Pippin. They were ready to exchange places. I dealt the orc a killing stroke and as quickly as I could I stepped backward using my shield to cover my retreat and the hobbits advance. Then I was out of the melee. Gimli was there, having been relieved by the elf. He handed me a water skin and I poured water over my face and head. I reveled in the cool sensation and ignored the thought of horrible things sluicing down the back of my neck with the water. I rinsed my mouth out then spat, then I drank and drank. I had not realized how thirsty I was until that cool liquid began to flow down my throat. Gimli finally had to tell me to take it slowly. Recovering command of myself, I began taking little sips. "How long has this been going on?" I asked the dwarf when I finally felt ready to speak. "A little more than two hours." He replied. I sighed; it had seemed much longer. We sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Gimli got up saying: "I am going to take Aragorn's place. He has had no rest and I have recovered somewhat." I nodded and clapped Gimli on the shoulder as he strode towards our line. After a moment Aragorn emerged, sweating and covered in blood and viscera. I offered him the water skin and he did what I had done earlier: poured water over his face, rinsed his mouth and drank deeply. When he had finished he smiled at me and said, "You look like the very devil." I smiled back and answered: "Whereas you, my lord, look like quite an improvement on your usual mode of dress and appearance." He laughed merrily at this and I felt my weary arms and legs go feather light. After a time I asked him how much longer he thought this battle would last. "I think we can hold out until nightfall. After that... its hard to say." I looked up at the sky. There were perhaps two hours until dark. "I think I will take over for the hobbits now," I said getting to my feet. "The hobbits are holding their own and you have not yet had a sufficient rest. Refill the water bags if you are so anxious to move about." Aragorn said. He was right on all counts. The hobbits were doing fine, I was still quite exhausted and the water bags did need to be refilled. I was not accustomed, however, to the idea that other people could be right so I could not keep a petulant look off my face as I headed off towards the river water bags in hand. When I returned Aragorn was still watching the battle. The walk had done me some good, as I was able to keep my muscles from cramping up without really exerting myself. I put the water down and said. "I feel I have recovered my strength now." I chose those words so that technically I wasn't asking permission to rejoin the fight. It was foolish I know but asking for anything had never come easily to me. Aragorn turned towards me and I thought he was going to laugh at me for playing with words at such a time, but when he faced me I saw his eyes suddenly narrow in concern. I quickly looked behind me, searching for whatever had alarmed him. There was nothing behind me and I was still looking around somewhat confused when Aragorn put his fingers to the bloody tear in my coat where I now remembered a spearhead had entered. His eyes must be sharp indeed to find that one bloody tear amid so many other rips and bloodstains. "What is this?' He asked, hands already moving to the coat's laces at my throat. I told him. He nodded and began untying the laces so that he could get a good look at the injury. I didn't want him to bother about it, but as always I was helpless to resist him physically. So I said, "It doesn't hurt and there has not been much bleeding. It's not worth the time." This time I was right and Aragorn knew it. I could see it broke his healer's heart but eventually, he retied the laces of my coat that he had undone and put a hand on my shoulder. "All right, Boromir. Go and rescue the hobbits, if you feel ready." I made a motion that was something between a nod and a bow and strode towards our line. I caught a glimpse of the hobbits' faces as they left the line. They looked pale and a little sick but unhurt. Soon enough, it felt as though I had never left the line. I was again tired by the repetitive "duels" with orc after orc. Worse I was becoming careless I had received a few shallow cuts upon my arms when I let my concentration slip from the repetitive task. After defeating a particularly large orc, I stole a quick glance at the sky. There was less than an hour until sundown. I was dreadfully tired but I feared the coming of the night. For I did not think I could stand this hopeless bloody fight in the dark. Suddenly I realized that the orc I had just killed had not been replaced. I looked around. The elf was now in the center and he had no opponent either. Aragorn, at the end of the line, was likewise not engaged in combat. The orcs had retreated just out of our way. Then a corridor opened with orcs moving either to the left or right. I shivered as I had a sudden recollection of Moria and the seemingly inexplicable retreat of our enemies followed by the awful appearance of the Balrog. I must not have been alone in my memory for I heard the elf beside give a low moan. I felt Merry and Pippin approach and stand beside the elf and me. Gimli had moved between Aragorn and the elf. At the end of the corridor I thought I saw a single creature standing. "What do you see, Legolas?" Aragorn asked the sharp-eyed elf. The question seemed to help the elf regain his composure. "There is an old man standing at the end of the line of orcs. He is..." the elf hissed suddenly, then continued. "The man much resembles Mithrandir." "Saruman." Aragorn stated flatly. The elf nodded "He has started walking towards us he is holding his staff and what looks like a black stone." "What shall we do, Strider?" Pippin asked. There was a small tremor in his voice. "We have no defense against magic, little one, but whatever may yet be done with sword, ax and courage we will do." All this time the wizard had been moving slowly but inexorably toward us. I could now see what the elf had meant, the resemblance to Gandalf was uncanny. It was the black stone, however, that drew my eye. It looked to me as though the stone were actually expanding and contracting like the pupil of an eye. I began to feel dizzy looking at it. I tried to tear my eyes away but at that moment I felt an odd stirring in the air and then I was surrounded by blackness. Time had no meaning in the darkness. I felt disconnected from everything. Not even fear could penetrate the black cloak covering me. I might have spent the rest of eternity there without obvious distress, but there came a time when I again felt an odd stirring and then suddenly I was immersed in... water. I was at the bottom of a lake or a river or perhaps even an ocean I thought fear rising in me. My sword was still in my hand and I stuck it in my belt as I desperately began swimming upward. My clothes were heavy and I struggled to overcome their weight. I felt my lungs begin to burn, soon I could feel my pulse beating in my temples. I ached for breath. I couldn't stand it much longer. I was starting to see flashes of light behind my eyes, but just then my head broke the surface of the water and I took in mouthful after mouthful of precious air. Still gasping I surveyed my surroundings. I was in a lake, I could make out the near shore but it was difficult to judge its distance over the water. I saw Pippin and the elf not very far from me struggling to fill their own lungs. As I watched them Merry emerged from the depths gasping. That left only Gimli and Aragorn. I remembered that dwarfs did not swim and I was gripped with fear for my friend. I could not understand why Aragorn was missing, though. Surely a ranger would be able to swim. I continued to concentrate on breathing but every moment that brought no sign of my friends made me more desperate. Finally, I could stand it no longer I had to search for them. "Start swimming towards the shore!" I shouted to the hobbits and elf. "I will search for the others." "I will not leave them either, Boromir." The elf replied grimly treading water. The hobbits were silent but they had determined looks on their small faces. "Damn it! We don't have time for this. Get moving, I will follow when I find them." I was getting frustrated. There was no point in all of us drowning. No one answered me, but the elf started taking quick shallow breathes in preparation for diving back into the water. I gritted my teeth and started taking my own breaths. Before either of us ventured beneath the surface. Aragorn finally emerged taking deep ragged breaths. He had Gimli in his arms. The dwarf was trying to cough and suck in air at the same time. Gimli's struggles were making it difficult for Aragorn to keep a hold on him and keep their heads above water, but soon the dwarf was able to settle down. "Is everyone here?" Aragorn questioned looking around. A loud chorus of affirmation greeted him. "Perhaps now we should head for the shore." The elf suggested as he started swimming in that direction. The hobbits followed the elf and I waited for Aragorn to get Gimli situated on his back before moving on. We swam for a long time, the water was getting a little choppy and it didn't seem to me that the shore was much closer than when we had started. The dwarf looked profoundly unhappy not only to be helpless but also to be quite literally a burden. Aragorn appeared to be keeping up, though, despite the extra weight. Pippin to my surprise was swimming easily not showing any sign of flagging. Merry on the other hand was starting to have difficulties. His strokes were becoming increasingly feeble and the hobbit was stopping to tread water more and more often. The elf was also fighting fatigue and the water. The elf was much stronger than a human his size would be but that was not the same as being as strong as a man outweighing him by 80 pounds. The elf simply did not have the mass per inch to keep from getting thrown about by the water. After a few more minutes it was clear Merry needed help. I swam over to him, "Climb onto my back, little one." The hobbit was too exhausted to argue and I felt tiny hands go around my neck, careful to stay away from my throat and the hobbit's legs wrap around my waist. The extra weight as well as the slight restriction of my movement was slowing me down. The entire fellowship seemed to be slowing. Now everyone was struggling. After each stroke I looked longingly at the shore. It was close now, so close. Suddenly, I realized that I had passed the elf. I had meant to stay in the back to keep an eye on everyone but with my fixation on the shore I had forgotten. I turned to look for the elf. He was perhaps 10 yards back. He was feebly treading water. He could barely keep his head up. "Hold on, we're so close!" I yelled at him. If he heard he gave no answer but the rest of the fellowship turned to look back at us. Aragorn cursed, then he told Gimli to hold on. We were perhaps 30 yards from dry land and Aragorn had now changed his stroke and was moving very quickly. I knew he hoped to get Gimli safe then return for the elf, but speed took energy. I was afraid he would exhaust himself if he kept it up and even if he did not he might not be quick enough. I myself was near exhaustion and I knew I could not handle both the elf and Merry. So I continued towards the shore shouting back encouragement to the elf every few strokes. It was no good the blond head finally sank beneath the lake's surface. Then the head reemerged. Pippin had returned to the elf and now the hobbit was holding the elf clear of the water. "Well done, Pip!" I shouted excitedly. "Hold on. It won't be long." Indeed it was not long for Aragorn had made it to shore and was now swimming fiercely back to the elf. I finally reached land myself. Gimli reached down and carried Merry to safety. I dragged myself out of the water and rolled onto my side breathing heavily and feeling impossibly weak. Pippin having turned the elf over to Aragorn was next to arrive. Finally with infinite slowness Aragorn touched land hauling the elf with him. All of us leaned down to help them but when they were out of the lake both man and elf simply lay on the ground motionless except for the heaving of their chests. The elf looked a little green and Aragorn looked gray. Gimli had gone off to gather firewood and the hobbits were busy divesting themselves of their soaking excess clothes. I thought the hobbits had a good idea and I began removing my heaviest layers. It was only now that the last light of day had faded. Thus, we could not have been in the water more than an hour. It had been a very long day. Now in my trousers and undertunic I could not resist going over to check on Aragorn's recovery. His eyes were closed but his chest moved up and down rhythmically. "Gimli has started a fire. It might be good to move closer and get rid of some your wet clothing." I said softly. He permitted me to help him to his feet and guide him to the fire. He even allowed me to help him remove his overtunic and shirt. I had never felt so grateful to help someone. I knew that he wanted sleep very badly, but unfortunately the rest of the fellowship had recovered some of their curiosity. "What happened?" Pippin demanded, as he snuggled close to Merry. 'Magic had happened' I thought 'more details aren't likely to make it any more understandable, so why not let the man have a little sleep.' It was no good, though; Aragorn heard the question and was rousing himself to talk about it. "I believe we traveled from one palintyr to another." Aragorn said. "I have never heard of this capability of a palintyr." The elf put in. "I knew voices, image even thoughts could be transmitted but never people, metal or clothing." "I have never heard of it either and I must consult with Father about it, but Saruman was always one to try what has not been done before." Aragorn continued. "Consult with who?" Pippin asked. I, myself, was curious. I thought Arathorn was long dead. "He means Lord Elrond." The elf answered quietly. Aragorn looked around confusion and fatigue radiating off of him. "Lord Elrond, yes. What did I say?" "It doesn't matter." The elf reassured him. "Go on." Aragorn looked unhappy that he could not remember what he had said but soldiered on. "Saruman meant to send us to Barad-d'ur as living gifts to the Dark Lord." We all trembled at this and Aragorn's face was the color of ashes. "So what went wrong?" Merry asked, a quaver in his voice. "I cannot say for certain, but Saruman made two mistakes. First, he thought we had the ring and he counted on the ring's desire for its lord to aid him. Second, he did not realize he was using a palintyr against its rightful master. That palintyr belonged long ago to the kings of men. So instead of being sent to the Dark Lord we were sent through to another palintyr, one that happened to be at the bottom of a lake." Aragorn's strength was rapidly fading and he was having trouble sitting upright. I thought it was time to end the discussion for the evening, but the elf beat me to it. "We can discuss plans tomorrow. Now we all need sleep." So saying the damn elf stretched himself out corpse-like in the place nearest Aragorn. I awoke to the smell of cooking fish. I had slept into midmorning. Gimli had several trout warming in the fire. When he noticed I was up, he said "Dwarves cannot swim but we are not completely useless near water." I could tell my friend was still upset about needing to be rescued yesterday. "Where is the elf?" I asked a little harshly for the place near Aragorn had been abandoned. The elf was scouting. The hobbits still slept, as did Aragorn. I watched him as I put on my now dry clothes. He still looked tired but in sleep he looked less stern. My eyes slowly drifted down over his body. He had received some cuts and bruises from yesterday's fight but nothing that looked very serious. He had such a slim frame that seeing him from a distance one could forget that he was truly a large man. The muscles in his shoulders and arms looked sculpted and perfectly defined. 'He has a runner's body,' I mused to myself. "Good morning." Damn it! He was awake and probably wondering what I was doing staring at him. "'Morning." I muttered and then went to fetch his shirt and tunic. The elf returned to report that he could not say where we were but he had seen what looked to be a human settlement, a large village or even a small town half a day's journey west. With no other real option we decided to head towards the settlement. "Just think, soft beds." Pippin announced to his cousin. "And hot baths." Merry responded. "And FOOD!" They said together grinning. "But have we any money?" Merry asked, suddenly worried. "All I had was in my pack and that is gone plus I've lost my cloak in the lake and Sam had sewn a few pennies into the lining for me." We did a quick inventory and found that the elf never bothered to carry money—presuming, I suppose with typical elfish arrogance that all things needful to him would drop forth like the gentle rain from heaven. Aragorn and Pippin had lost the little they carried with the rest of our baggage. Gimli and I were the only ones who never went anywhere without a great deal of money stored very close to hand. Between the two of us, we could keep the two hobbits in luxury as well reprovision the fellowship. On our way to the village, Aragorn was quiet, even for him. He usually walked with a sort of casual power like a lion, but today he was moving more carefully as if he was having to concentrate upon putting what foot in front of the other. I was worried, very worried. I wanted to stand by his shoulder so that I could easily reach out to steady him. But again the elf was there before me. What in the hell was the elf planning on anyway providing a soft spot to land in case Aragorn stumbled? After an hour of walking I couldn't take it anymore. I sauntered up to the elf casually and asked if he wouldn't mind running ahead a bit to make sure we were still headed on the right track. The elf glared at me, but he wasn't quick enough to think up a good reason for refusing so off he went. When the elf had gone I stationed myself by Aragorn's elbow and vowed that nothing would dislodge me until we had found a safe place in which to rest. We arrived at the town in the late afternoon. We had decided it was probably wiser not to advertise either our presence or our ignorance of our location so we concocted a story about having had a mishap while fishing on the lake if any seemed curious about our appearance. We found an inn rather quickly and we took three rooms. By the time we had eaten our fill and bathed it was evening. We were all tired and sore and decided the best thing would be to go to bed early and think about the future tomorrow. I entered the room I was to share with Aragorn after checking in on the hobbits. I was dressed for sleep wearing nothing but my trousers. Aragorn was dressed as I was and he was sitting on his bed staring at nothing. My concern for him had grown steadily throughout the day. Now I went over and sat next to him. "Is all well, Aragorn?" I asked carefully. "I am simply tired." He murmured without shifting his blank stare. I was not at all reassured. I looked him over again, searching for some injury but I found nothing that could account for his weary spirit. "Indeed, my lord, we had a brave battle and a heroic swim yesterday." I commented, probing cautiously. "It is not the fight or the water that stays with me." He said, looking at me for the first time. I racked my brain for an explanation. An image of the elf's near drowning suddenly flashed through my mind and I silently offered my first born child to any god who was interested if only the elf would not be the cause of Aragorn's melancholy. Then enlightenment hit. "The Palintyr." He had given detailed speculation about what had happened to us. I should have realized that he would have experienced something different than the rest of us. He shuddered, confirming my guess. "Does it not haunt you, Boromir?" There was shame in his voice. "For me nothing truly happened. I felt slightly removed from myself but that was all. It was... odd, but not unpleasant. Will... will you tell me how it was for you?" I saw remembered horror in his eyes but also a hint of relief. He must have believed we had all experienced the same thing yet the rest of had not been fazed by it. It must have shaken his confidence to its foundation to have believed that he alone of the fellowship had been struck to the heart by whatever evil the palintyr revealed. Aragorn scrutinized me as he thought about my request. Suddenly he said: "Boromir, the spear point! Why did you not remind me of it earlier?" I had no idea what he was talking about. My complete incomprehension must have shown on my face, for Aragorn finally raised his hand to my chest and gently touched a place just over my heart. To my surprise the place was tender. Then I remembered: the battle, the spearhaft breaking and a metal point entering my chest. "It slipped my mind. It doesn't bother me." I answered, hoping he would drop this subject quickly and return to what was obviously more important. "I shall have to cut it out, the skin is already beginning to heal over it. It is dangerous to go around with a spear point lodged in muscle inches from your heart. Stay here. I will get some needle and thread from the innkeeper." Aragorn had already risen to his feet as he finished speaking. Everything was spinning out of control. It didn't matter if I had a hundred orc spears sticking out of me; my duty was to be of aid to my king. Why was I being denied that? In my frustration I reached out and seized Aragorn's wrist. He stopped and turned to face me. There was no anger in his eyes, only curiosity. That almost made it worse. I released him immediately and dropped my eyes to the floor. He stood looking down at me for a long moment. Finally, I felt him put a hand on my shoulder and say softly: "If you wish Boromir, I will tell you about what happened but let me get that orc metal out of you while I speak of it, all right?" Still looking down, I nodded. I waited until I heard him cross the room and close the door behind him before reaching up to wipe my eyes. When Aragorn returned I was still sitting where he had left me but I had regained my composure. Among the items he had brought there was a large jug, which he handed to me: "Drink this, it will help any pain." I took a long sip of the potent brew and let it warm me. Aragorn moved around the room placing a candle closer to the bed, setting up a bowl of water, putting clean cloths close to hand, holding his knife in the fire and performing a dozen other tasks to prepare for surgery. He moved with more purpose than I had seen in him all day. I continued to sip at the liquor and I wondered if the task he had set himself might actually be a useful distraction as he recalled unpleasant things. This thought made me feel slightly less useless but only slightly. Finally, all was ready. Aragorn told me to lie down and when I had obeyed both surgery and story began. "When we 'entered' the palintyr I could not see or hear but I could 'see' and 'hear' in the way one 'sees' mental images and I could 'hear' in the way one 'hears' thoughts. I 'saw' the fellowship but everyone seemed very still, not asleep only still. Once or twice I thought Legolas might have 'said' something but if he did the 'sound' was beneath my 'hearing' threshold. I did 'hear' Saruman but I could not understand all the 'vocabulary' of his thoughts. But I understood enough. He wanted to send us to his lord as presents. He was pleased with his cleverness and expected great rewards. "I must have said 'no!' I certainly thought it. Saruman must have 'heard' me for he asked who was there and his 'tone' was fearful. I was not really surprised that Saruman 'heard' my thoughts. After all I had 'heard' his thoughts but the palintyr also 'heard' me. The palintyr did not 'speak' as Saruman 'spoke'. I don't believe the palintyr thinks as men do but the palintyr could communicate and it was like communicating with an animal. The palintyr was somehow able to communicate to me that it would not send us to barad-d'ur. Saruman must have understood the same thing for he began to 'speak' again. His 'voice' was gentle and very soothing as he urged the palintyr to do his bidding. I sensed confusion from the black stone, so I too began to 'speak'. I 'spoke' as one would to a feral dog that had once lived among people. For what seemed a long time Saruman and I persuaded, cajoled and pleaded. Finally, however, it became clear the palintyr was not going to send us to the Dark Lord—I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" I had been holding my breath as he told of his battle with Saruman and I had released it with a bit of a gasp as he told of his victory in the black stone. In truth, I had not been paying attention at all to Aragorn's efforts with the spearhead, but I let him think that my reaction had to do with the tenderness of my wound. "No, not at all. I'm fine. What happened next?" Aragorn did not answer for a while. He had succeeded in removing the spearhead and had redoubled his efforts to be careful as he cleaned the injury. It was not until he was ready to begin stitching the wound that he took up the story once more. "Saruman grew angry but also frightened. He began to 'scream'. Then—then there was another 'voice'. I will not describe it Boromir—I cannot. The 'voice' said 'Why the delay, wizard?' The words were impatient but I knew with certainty that the 'voice' knew how to wait. If Saruman answered I did not 'hear'. I could 'hear' nothing for the heaviness of that voice in my mind seemed me to crush me. I desperately sought escape from that 'voice' but I did not wish to return to the orcs. This is very difficult to describe but I sensed an opening. With whatever was left of my mind I willed us through. Then we were all in the water." He was quiet for a moment. Then he said: "The heaviness of that 'voice' stays with me, Boromir. It frightens me." My chest was sewn and bandaged and without the need to keep his hand steady for my sake tremors racked his body. I sat up and threw my arms around him. Perhaps the wine made me bold but when he trembled my entire world shook and I could not bear it. He recovered very quickly but I could not let him go. "Let me help, let me do something, anything." I whispered into his shoulder and I realized that now I was the one shaking. "I hesitate to ask, Boromir. You are too generous, dear one." His voice was calm and he had begun stroking my hair as though I were a lost child. "Ask." I demanded desperately. I heard him take in a deep breath. "Will you sleep here tonight? Will you stay with me? Will you help me to bear this heaviness?" "Yes." I was not exactly certain what he had asked for, but it didn't matter the answer would always be 'yes'. As soon as I had spoken Aragorn gently pushed me backwards until I lay on my back. After he had blown out the candle, he returned to the bed and covered my body with his own. "Are you sure this is all right?" He whispered inches from my ear. I could only nod. Speech was beyond me. Within moments Aragorn's breathing changed and I knew he was asleep. I should have felt trapped or at least uncomfortable, but I didn't. I felt safe and warm and protected. His weight atop me made me feel stable and grounded. It was like certainty. I slowly eased my arms around his waist, careful not to move in anyway that might disturb him. I reveled in the feel of him. I traced the muscles in his back delighted to finally explore the phenomenon that could cause such fast and powerful sword strokes. I wanted to stay awake all night so that I could seer every sensation into my brain but my mind would not focus. I became lost in the wonder of it and thus sleep found me. When I awoke the next morning he was gone. I stayed in bed a long time, remembering. I had awakened once in the night to find we had shifted in our sleep. I lay on my side with my back against Aragorn. His arms were around my waist and one leg was thrown over mine. Again I resolved to stay awake to savor this but sheer contentment made my conscious mind vulnerable and I again fell victim to sleep. Touch had overwhelmed my other senses when Aragorn had been with me but now I could detect what I now recognized was Aragorn's scent on the pillow and bedclothes. He smelled of pipe smoke and the outdoors and something else, something essentially... human. I wondered idly if his scent also lingered on me. The thought made me smile. After a time, however, I became restive. What exactly had happened last night? What did it mean? What did I want it to mean? I knew I wanted it to happen again. I knew I wanted other things to happen also, but best not let my thoughts roam in that direction. The situation was enough of a mess as it was. The most immediate questions were: 'Where was Aragorn?' What did he think of all this? Could I have done something to annoy or disappoint him? I dressed quickly and went down to the inn's common room. Of the fellowship only Gimli was there. "Greetings, sleeping beauty." He smirked as he picked his teeth. I was in no mood for pleasantries: "Where's Aragorn?" Gimli informed me that Aragorn and the elf were out gathering intelligence and reconnoitering our position. The hobbits were still in bed. At least, I had not been the last one up. "Why'd he take the elf?" I asked almost angrily. Gimli opened his eyes wide. "I was not privy to that particular decision-making process. One might imagine, however—if one were disposed to do so, that an elf just might be useful on such a mission for his sharp eyes, his long ears or his innocent expression which might convince a human that he is slightly simple, thus arousing no suspicion when he asks 'Pardon me, sir but would you happen to know where I am?'" The dwarf was obviously under the deluded impression that he was being witty. I decided to take the opportunity to dispel his illusion. We were still discussing the finer points of humor when the hobbits appeared demanding breakfast. Apparently it had been decided that the four of us would spend the day reprovisioning the fellowship. I did not find out about this until second breakfast, though, because it wasn't until late into the first meal that Gimli and I decided it was probably safer to agree to disagree about the proper role of satire when someone makes a simple request for information. We were fortunate in that the town was large enough to have a market. All of us who wore boots needed replacements. We had lost all our food, cooking supplies, blankets, water bags and flint. Several of us had lost cloaks and weapons. Decency demanded some of us get new clothing. We also needed twine, pipeweed for the smokers and I wanted to find a deck of playing cards for though I was neither a singer nor a storyteller I knew several tricks and I wanted to do my part to entertain the fellowship around the campfire. I let Gimli do most of the haggling. The dwarf was as fearsome in commerce as he was in battle. For the most part I simply followed Merry and Pippin as they went from shop to shop and market stall to market stall laughing and chatting. I could have been a farmer come to town with his family. I wonder if that was how the townspeople saw us: a man out with his sons and a very surly, very short brother. This family image appealed to me very much. Roaming the streets I realized how badly I had missed the hustle and bustle of a human community. Men worked metal, tended animals, loaded and unloaded carts. Women sold eggs, bought cloth and gossiped. Children played, laughed and called for their mothers. All about there was the noise of ordinary life: frantic, confused and joyful. A man was not meant to spend his life wandering in the wilderness. Quests there would always be but in the end a man must return to his land, his people and his home. Oh Gondor, how I miss you. I left you only to search for aid in this time of trial. When I come back, my beloved country, I shall bring with me a gift beyond price; I shall return with your lost son; I shall return with our lost king. We fulfilled our mission just in time for dinner. When we arrived back at the inn Aragorn and the elf were still out. When dinner was finished and there was still no sign of our companions I grew positively nervous. The hobbits, ever attune to mood, were also starting to worry. Gimli did his best to reassure us but even he became edgy as time wore on. I had just about made up my mind to search when the two walked in. "Where have you been? We've been worried." Merry chastised—good old Merry. "Boromir has been ready to jump out of his skin for the last half hour." he continued—wretched little hobbit. "The fault was mine. We came across an old apothecary and I wished to replenish my supply of herbs then I searched the forest for a few things the man could not provide." Aragorn acknowledged without so much as smirking at me. "Well what have you discovered? Where are we and where are we going?" Gimli demanded. "Are you asking literally or philosophically?" The elf teased. "When" the dwarf replied with great dignity "have you known me to give a damn about philosophy?" Before this could go on any further Aragorn decided to take matters into his own hands. "We are just north of the Ash Mountains close to the northern border of Mordor." "Well" Gimli said after a moment "that could have been worse." "Aye," Aragorn replied "but that is not all. The enemy has finally bestirred himself. He has amassed a great host and the advance guard is already on the march moving west. "He marches on Gondor!" I said steel in my voice. "I think so too, but Legolas and I spent long hours eavesdropping on a few of the enemy's soldiers intent on a last carouse. The impression we received was that Rohan would not be a factor in any battle. Do you know why this might be, Boromir?" "Theodan grows battle-shy in his old age, but that is not unnatural. I have always thought his nephew and heir, Éomer, was keen enough for a fight, though." I replied. "I am more disturbed by rumors concerning the movements of the Ents." The elf put in gratuitously. "What the hell is an ent?" I asked. "Ents are a great and powerful race. They are the spirit and the consciousness of the ancient forests. Sadly their race is fading and it has been a long time since last they interested themselves in events perceptible on a human scale." "And what drunken sot let that little tidbit slip while in his cups?" I asked nastily. "I heard the rumor in the whisper of the wood and the sound of the wind through the leaves." The elf replied evenly, a challenge in his eyes. I stared right back. I had had a belly full of this elf. We had just learned my City would soon be under attack and he was concerned about some mythical tree soul that he had learned about from the local fauna. It was incredible. Not only that but I was convinced the elf had spent the time in the forest prancing about the woods trying to distract my king from his real concerns with some elfish silliness. The elf was always there trying to monopolize Aragorn's attention. The elf needed to realize that Aragorn had more important things to do than compose nature poems. I decided that it would definitely be in the elf's best interest to keep any furthur gossip from the foliage to himself. I was just about to explain the situation to the pretty archer in terms I was sure he could understand when Pippin spoke up. "So what are we going to do?" The question brought me back to the matter at hand. There would be time enough to sort the elf out later. "Our part in the ring quest is ended. For myself, I intend to travel west as quickly as possible. I will go to Rohan first. I fear the enemy has some sly work in hand there and Gondor will need the support of the Riddermark to defend the west. The rest of you must do as you will for I fear there is much danger on the path I choose and it would be a great comfort to me to know my friends have found safety." Aragorn announced. "Strider, you won't leave us." Cried Merry aghast. "I will not abandon you dear-hearts. Let us hear what the company plans to do. Perhaps you may accompany one of them. If not then there is a merchant here that has done business with some of my rangers. I know him by reputation to be an honest and trustworthy man. I am certain he could provide safe escort for you at least as far as Mirkwood." Before the hobbits could answer Gimli stepped forward. "As far as I am concerned Aragorn I have seen enough of you to know that if there is to be a decisive battle against the enemy you will be there. I will not have it said that no dwarf was present at the greatest combat of the age. I trust you to find us a battle and to see us through it and if not then to see our lives do not go cheaply or in vain. I will follow you." "I will be glad of your company Son of Gloin for one could not find a heartier companion nor a sturdier friend than you." The dwarf accepted the praise with a nod and returned to his seat. The elf was the next to speak. "What glory there is in this for the dwarves will have to be shared with the elves of Mirkwood for I will have full measure. I am not going to leave you, my hope." My gorge rose at this last statement but I swallowed hard I was determined to catch every last nuance of Aragorn's reply. "What have I done to earn such friendship from one so bright and shining?" My head ached with the sincerity of his reply and I thought that soon I would have to lie down. "Your silver tongue probably has much to do with it." The elf said lightly. "Well, now that that is all settled, I'd like to know what makes you think you can get rid of us so easily? Its awfully high-handed to pack us off somewhere out of the way while the rest of you go about saving the world" Pippin had regained his voice and was using it to full effect. "We have been through a great deal. We want to see it through. Besides we can't go back to the Shire now, knowing all we do. It just wouldn't be right." Pippin obviously had more to say but Merry was looking thoughtful and he touched his cousin on the arm to silence him. "Unless you don't want us. We have been a lot of trouble." "What trouble you have been I would gladly undergo many times over. You remind us what is at stake in this contest with the enemy. And as far as being wanted, my dear hobbits, you are ever welcome in my heart but I am not eager to lead you into peril even though you ask it of me." "All the same, Strider, we are part of this fellowship. We want to come along." Pippin said adamantly. Merry was nodding enthusiastic confirmation of his cousin's words. "Then I will not deny you. But please consider, your welfare affects me deeply and this will be a difficult and hazardous adventure." Aragorn's anxiety was clear in his voice. He respected the hobbits' right to decide for themselves but he was also worried about their fate. I shared his respect but I thought perhaps it would not be so demanding a mission for the hobbits, as Aragorn believed. Once we reached the safety of Rohan the hobbits would surely be protected. "Well that is a relief, isn't, Pip?" Merry said a smile beginning to curve his lips. "Oh, aye" drawled the other hobbit "I was afraid he was going to say," and here the hobbit lowered his voice to approximately Aragorn's register and spoke with great seriousness and formality in imitation of the Ranger, "be warned, little ones, upon this dire expedition there will much recreation. Opportunities to rest weary feet will abound. No noon shall pass but that we shall have had elevenses. Our steps will be dogged tirelessly by friends and allies guarding our comfort. Each night we will make camp safe from inclement whether and there will always be a large fire and an inexhaustible supply of chestnuts." The hobbit had captured exactly the pattern of Aragorn's decorous and grave speech. Gimli was choking with mirth. Merry's head was down, his shoulders were shaking and he was beating his little fists into the table. The elf was also laughing uncontrollably. I, myself, had tears in my eyes as I strove to contain my amusement. Aragorn looked torn between amusement and exasperation. Choosing amusement as I knew he would, he addressed the giggling Master Perigrin. "Well with a little more practice, Pippin, you shall not need me at all and I shall be able to return to my rangers." In a strange way it had been necessary for the hobbits to laugh a little at Aragorn's expense; perhaps it had been necessary for all of us. Even so, no disrespect had been intended. Demonstrating this Pippin, still giggling went over and embraced Aragorn. Aragorn hugged the hobbit back and kissed him on the forehead. "Don't worry Strider; we shall always be able to come up with a use for you." Pippin said. "What of you, Boromir? Would you prefer to travel straight to Gondor? It has been long and long since you have seen your home and the city no doubt has need of such a valiant champion." The question shocked me. I had assumed as had everyone else in the fellowship that I would go wherever he went. Did he think I had not meant my oath? I trusted he had meant his and if he thought it best for Gondor to secure the alliance with Rohan first then what difference did it make what I preferred? Where I went and for what purpose was for him to say. Besides, how could I leave him now? When I returned to the White City it would be at his side. "I will go with you?" I finally managed to mutter. He only nodded. There followed a long silence which I for one was beginning to find uncomfortable then Pippin sighed: "Well I suppose we'll be getting up early tomorrow. I may as well go to bed now and sleep while I can. Good night, all." Merry and a chorus of 'good nights' followed Pippin out of the room. "Tell me, Gimli what is the state of the treasury, for I think we can hardly dispense with horses for this journey?" Aragorn asked the dwarf as the two prepared their pipes. "Nay Aragorn, that was no part of our deal. A dwarf trusts only his own feet." Gimli replied, alarmed. "If you are frightened, Master Dwarf, you are welcome to ride with me and I shall keep you safe." The elf taunted. "Well, there is likely enough money left to buy horses for I have a mind to take you up on your offer, Master Elf. I wish to see your face when the beast breaks both our necks." The dwarf declared. I found suddenly that I simply could not endure another round of Gimli and the elf's perverse banter. I wanted time with my thoughts so I said my 'good nights' and headed towards my room. It was not more than half an hour later when I heard Aragorn enter the room. I was lying on 'my' bed, the one that had not been slept in last night. When I had entered the room I had been too despondent to even pull off my boots. I was fully dressed and there was a great deal of tension in my body so I did not even try to pretend to be asleep. "What is between you and Legolas?" Aragorn asked without preamble. I struggled to sit up and fling my legs over the side of the bed. I was tired but I was not about to have this conversation on my back. I had been a fool to think that Aragorn would have missed our little staring contest earlier. Perhaps he had also noticed the other times when the elf and I had exchanged baleful glances. "Aragorn, please if you have ever harbored the slightest affection or regard for me you will not force me to speak about the elf." "Very well. Since that is your wish I will not press the subject but if you will not accept my help in this then it is your responsibility. If anything arises from this quarrel that hinders the fellowship or our mission in any way I will not be sparing of my anger. Do you understand me, Boromir?" This last was said with a great deal of firmness. "Yes, my lord." I answered promptly. I knew instinctively that provoking Aragorn's anger was the very last thing I ever wanted to do. "Good. I have said the same to Legolas." I was relieved he had given the same warning to the elf. Perhaps that meant he didn't believe I was solely responsible for the friction between the archer and myself. "There is something more that troubles you, Boromir. Will you tell me of it?" Aragorn was all gentleness now as he came to sit beside me on the bed. I wanted to scream with the nearness of him and howl at the distance that still lay between us. "I do not know how to speak of it. I cannot explain it, even to myself." Sitting next to each other as we were I was spared having to meet his eyes. I was very grateful for that. "I fear I am to blame for this." Aragorn said and there was a deep sadness in his voice and—could it be—self-disgust. "I was wrong to do what I did last night, Boromir. I was exhausted and weak and I feared losing myself and you were so strong and solid but there is no excuse. I should have understood that you were not comfortable. I should have seen that your loyalty and generosity forced you to consent to something unwelcome. I was selfish and cruel and I am truly sorry." "No! You must not be sorry. There is nothing for you to be sorry for. I was glad; I was happy to—to be of help. I was concerned a little because I was not sure how things stood between us. Even now I don't know if I should have... If there was something I did that I should not have... Did you expect me to... Was it ever your intent that we... Oh god!" I finally managed to shut up. I had been so appalled by his apology that I had simply started speaking without even considering what I was going to say. Aragorn had moved a little away from me so that he could look me in the face without craning his neck. "What are you asking, Boromir?" "I do not have the words. I know only how it is called by soldiers, drunks in taverns or by court gossips. I will not speak such crudity here." I had moved when he had but I did not look at his face, rather I focused on a point a few inches above his shoulder. "Are you asking if I desired to make love to you last night?" I sighed in resignation, "Yes, that is what I need to know." Aragorn was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke his voice was as calm and steady as it ever was. "Last night, I only desired to be near you and to take shelter in your strength. But you are beautiful, Boromir, brave and honest. You are so passionately devoted to your cause and you are so wonderfully human. I do desire you. I love you yet I would hold my hand in fire until it burned to ash before I would ever take advantage of your trust and loyalty in such a way." As he spoke this last phrase Aragorn held out his right hand as if prepared even now to consign it to the flames. I caught it and crushed it to my lips. After a few moments I lowered his hand, though I still clutched it tightly. When I looked up I was finally able to meet his eyes. "Before anything else, you are my lord and king. There is nothing that can threaten that bond of love and honor." Aragorn nodded carefully, "that is so, for though I love you I would not let that love come between me and the protection of middle earth or the good of Gondor." I smiled and once more bent to kiss his hand. "Is there not also friendship between us?" I asked. "Yes, Boromir. There is friendship." Reassured, I took a deep breath. "You have said that you love me, that you desire me. You spoke when I did not have the words but even though I did not have the words I always had the feelings. I love you and I desire you and I am happy to have finally spoken this truth." We both moved forward slowly and cautiously, ready to jerk away at a moment's notice. Finally, our lips touched. We stayed just like that for a moment and then we pressed closer. I felt a terrible sadness begin to loosen its grip on my heart. I had lived with the sadness so long that I had ceased to feel the tightness of its grip upon me until now when it slowly started to ease. Relief from a pain I had not even known was there nearly made me weep. I had not known what to expect. I had never kissed someone I truly loved before. The first barrier had broken and we were both gaining confidence. We still clutched each other's hands and at the first kiss we had both squeezed with bruising force. Now Aragorn's grip was relaxing and he began stroking my hands. Strong heavily callused fingers crept up to my shoulders and then to my face. We kissed again. I reached for his shoulders and pulled him closer. The kisses were growing longer and deeper. I felt passion building within me. We explored each other's mouths thoroughly. My lips, swollen with desire, sought desperately to meld with Aragorn's. I welcomed his tongue into my mouth and thrust my own into his. Then he stood up retreating from me. "Boromir, there is something we must talk about." His words hit me like a blow to the face. I had never feared death so much as I feared what he would say to me. The fear left me cold and aching. I mustered what little protection I could by forcing my features to assume a mask of calm indifference. "What would you say to me, Son of Arathorn?" I asked my voice distant and icy. He must have felt the chill for he shivered. "Dear one, do not withdraw from me until you have listened!" There was genuine pleading in his voice. Was he intent on breaking me? "I am already at your mercy. Would you have me completely defenseless?" I replied willing my voice steady. "I wish you did not feel you had to defend yourself from me." "Say what you will and have done with it." "I am betrothed." I had expected the rejection to be quick and clean. That would have been the kindest way to deliver the killing stroke. What could he possibly mean by this sudden talk of betrothal? Since I did not answer, Aragorn continued: "I am engaged to Arwen Evenstar, the daughter of Lord Elrond." Still I had no comment. "In many ways the match is politically ideal. Gondor's ties with the elves of Imladris and Lórien will be greatly strengthened. The children of my house will derive much benefit from her elf blood. The lady herself is beautiful and I believe she will be an excellent queen." What was the relevance of this? Of course he would have to marry. I might have preferred that he choose one of the noble ladies of Minas Tirith, but he was right that the elf princess made a lot of sense. I continued to wait. Aragorn sighed at my ongoing silence and resumed his explanation: "The match is also ideal because we love each other deeply. She is a great friend and a wise counselor. There is trust and understanding between us. She is in my heart even as you are in my heart." Now I was utterly confused. Was Aragorn telling me that, though he cared for me he cared for this Lady Arwen more? That would be a gentle way to do it and my lord was nothing if not gentle. In my effort to understand I forgot to keep my voice distant: "Are you saying that you won't... betray the lady Arwen with me?" At this he smiled a little: "If loving you means I betray Arwen then I have already betrayed Arwen and I shall continue to betray her everyday of my life. But neither Arwen nor I would ever see love as betrayal. I knew when I asked to her to marry me that she loved another also." "Who?" I demanded, indignant for his sake. The idea that anyone could know Aragorn and yet love another was not something my mind could comprehend. "I will not reveal the name. The love would not be accepted even among the elves. I have told you this much only to show you that Arwen understands that a heart is the only thing that can be shared without being divided. Her love for this other does not diminish her love for me nor mine for her." I was still groping in the dark. Did Aragorn fear I would be a danger to the lady? I would happily kill anyone who betrayed my lord. I would happily kill anyone I thought might take my place in Aragorn's heart. Were these truths written clearly on my face? Yet strangely jealousy did not burn through me when I thought of the elf princess. If Gondor needed a king then a king needed a queen. Why should he not have one that he loved? I knew from the experience of my own parents the misery of a loveless marriage. I would never wish that upon Aragorn. "I will honor and respect the lady Arwen as your wife and as my queen." I promised, hoping that would be enough. I preferred to make no promises concerning this lover of hers, however. Apparently, this had not been Aragorn's concern for he looked a little confused. "I hope that you will find Arwen easy to love." He replied a little uncertainty. Damn and blast! If lady Arwen was not the problem then what was he getting at? "I don't understand. Why tell me any of this? Why tell me now?!" Aragorn's face was a mask of misery and shame as he answered. "Boromir, you deserve so much, so much that I cannot give you. You should be someone's entire world but I have so many responsibilities and claims upon me. I must face the dark lord, I must do what I can for Gondor, and I must somehow justify Arwen's faith in me. I must redeem the past and reclaim the future. How can I accomplish all this? I will try; Boromir, but I will fail. And when I do what will be left for you but bitter regret that you ever loved someone as weak as I am? What can I offer you, dear one, except grief and disappointment?" I barreled into him with so much force that I knocked him backward onto the bed. I landed on top of him, legs straddling his waist. "I am not a blushing maiden that you should not dally with unless you are able to offer honorable marriage. I will take whatever role there is for me and I will be grateful. Do not underestimate yourself, Aragorn. The world is yours if you will but stretch forth your hand to take it. You have resources you do not imagine. You will not fail because you are not alone. And no matter what happens I will never regret loving you." I paused after every few words to press fierce kisses onto his mouth. He did not resist me but neither did he return any of my kisses. Tears had started to gather in the corners of his eyes and I kissed them away with violent tenderness. I smoothed his hair back and traced the lines of his face with my fingertips. I continued to ramble between kisses, trying to reassure him, trying to make him feel the power in him that was so obvious to everyone else. After several minutes of this Aragorn finally reached up and caught my face in his hands. We looked at each other and I saw such love in his eyes that I could have burst with joy. But there was also fear mixed with sadness. I could not have borne either the fear or the sadness that I saw in those beautiful eyes. The strength of those emotions would have crushed me to nothing. To see the one I loved suffer so was devastating. As we gazed at each other, though, I saw the love grow and grow until Aragorn pulled me down into a long blissful kiss. When the kiss broke I began to laugh with happiness. He smiled and leaned up to kiss the tip of my nose. Still laughing I started to press my lips to every bit of his exposed flesh. I nipped gently at the lobes of his ears. I ran my tongue along the line of his jaw, enjoying the feel of the rough stubble of his beard. When I found the pulse in his throat I sealed my mouth around it trying to become a part of his life force. Aragorn's arms had wound around my neck. One hand stroked my hair and the other delved down my tunic to caress my back. I was desperate to explore the length of his collarbone and the hollow of his neck but our clothing was starting to get in the way. I tugged at his shirt resisting the urge to simply rip the fabric away. Aragorn's fingers were more dexterous than mine were and he was making admirable progress with my overtunic but I was wearing several cumbersome layers and we both still had our boots on. I groaned at the necessity of breaking apart for even a moment. I moved up to kiss his mouth once more as hard as I could and then I moved off of him and began freeing myself of my clothes. Though I have never gotten undressed faster in my life, Aragorn had been wearing less that needed to be removed. Thus, as I tossed the last article of clothing onto the heap Aragorn simply stood watching me. I have seen many naked men in my life, but I had never really looked at a naked man. I had never wanted to until now. I stared, drinking in the sight of him. I am no judge of beauty, but to me there could have been nothing so beautiful as he was. He looked thoughtful but his usual air of unconscious authority had returned to him. There was not an inch of unnecessary flesh anywhere on his long frame. Each muscle looked as though it could have been carved from stone. My own bulk appeared inflated and clumsy by contrast. The weapons of his enemies as well as the sun and the wind had left their marks upon him but rather than marring him they gave him the look of one who could endure all things with dignity. My gaze finally drifted towards his groin. His half-erect penis seemed to pulse with vitality. I was fascinated. I stood transfixed like a bird mesmerized by a cobra. I might still be standing there had Aragorn not embraced me and borne us both down to the bed again. This time it was Aragorn's body on top of mine. I moaned as I wriggled beneath him trying to create some friction for my aching member by rubbing against him. Aragorn began kissing my face and neck. Soon I was writhing in an attempt to handle the excruciating pleasure being visited on my body by Aragorn's hands, lips and tongue. When he began to graze my nipple with his teeth, I had to bite my lip so hard that it bled to keep from calling out. He would spend long minutes delivering the most delicate caresses and the lightest kisses until every nerve was at its maximum sensitivity straining to appreciate his lightest touch. Then without warning he would attack my quivering flesh with fierce passion. He pushed me into such an intensity of pleasure that it became very near to pain. Aragorn continued to work his way down my body until he came to my hips. He kissed and stroked the tops of my thighs and the very lowest part of my belly. He circled closer and closer to my fully engorged penis, which jumped in desperate need as his fingers drew ever nearer. I groaned helplessly when his bearded cheek grazed me and I clutched fistfuls of the bedclothes. I needed him now! Finally, I felt myself sheathed in a glorious wet heat. I think I would have come that instant if I had not been so surprised that he had taken me into his mouth. Somehow I had just assumed that he would take me in his strong hands. Those wonderful hands were not idle, however, even as he lavished wet sucking kisses upon my straining member, one hand restrained me from frantically thrusting my hips upwards while with the other he cupped my balls and began squeezing gently. My eyes were tightly shut and my breath came in ragged gasps. I could not take much more. As if he could read my body as well as I myself could Aragorn took me deep into his throat impossibly deep and then out again. He squeezed my balls in rhythm as the tight seal of his lips moved up and down my member. Once, twice the end of the world could not have prevented my climax now. I tried to pull away but he still held me in place. I tried to warn him but I had already lost all control. I shot into his mouth and rode a wave of ecstasy through the heavens. When I returned to my senses Aragorn had come up beside me. I looked up at him with trust and happiness shining in my eyes. He was smoothing my hair out of my face, kissing my sweaty forehead and murmuring that I was beautiful and that he loved me very much. I lay contented and relaxed for several moments as my strength returned to me. My hunger for Aragorn had never really abated. It had only been pushed to the back of my mind while I was caught in the throes of my own pleasure. I still wanted to explore every bit of him. As I continued to recover my desire for him grew ever more urgent. With a sudden burst of energy I swung myself on top of him, pinning his body to the bed. I began at the top of his head, inhaling the sharp clean scent of his hair and running my hands through the thick dark locks. I brushed the lovely strands straight back with my fingers in imitation of the style of the elves. I smiled a little at the result. The beard would have to go before any serious attempt at elf impersonation was made. Still I thought I saw the faintest shadow of Elrond in his features. I kissed a line across his forehead where my mind's eye already saw a crown. I quickly reacquainted myself with the feel and taste of his firm lips, angular jaw and soft earlobes. Once again I lavished affection on the vulnerable flesh of his throat. Delivering one final kiss to the hollow of his neck I moved on to uncharted territory. As I roamed down his chest and stomach Aragorn tangled his fingers in my hair. He did not try to control my exploration or even guide it; he was just seeking another point of contact. Occasionally, he would make a soft sound of encouragement or appreciation. I lived for those sweet sounds and I did everything I could to elicit them. I investigated the swells and dips of his shoulders and biceps. On his left arm I found a long scar running up the taught skin of his forearm well past his elbow. Strangely, tears pricked my eyes at the sight. I lapped gently at the inside of his wrists but I placed only a brief kiss into the palm of each of his hands. I knew that I could spend an eternity lost in the wonder of his beautiful hands so I decided to control myself for the time being for there was still much I planned to do. I turned my attention to his long thighs. I ran my hands up and down the great length of muscle. The insides of his knees fascinated me, such a soft and vulnerable place amid so much rock hard flesh. The first feather light kiss must have tickled for Aragorn's whole body jerked violently. I smiled happily to myself. Anyone else in the entire world would have kicked me in the stomach with his reaction but Aragorn somehow managed to hold back. I could not resist kissing him again but this time I pressed my lips hard into his flesh and Aragorn quivered only slightly. I moved still lower. In my mind I was already nibbling the delicate arch of his foot. "Boromir!" Aragorn's voice was edged with need and desire. I immediately realized how selfish I was being. Aragorn had been waiting a long time for release while I had been indulging in my greedy desire to know every bit of him. When I looked up I saw that Aragorn's penis was erect with beads of moisture dripping from the tip. I hurried forward to collect those precious drops on my tongue. The contact made us both shudder. I ran my hands up and down the hot, rigid flesh. Now my actions were causing Aragorn to groan in earnest and I found myself growing hard again. I tried to remember all the things he had done to me that had sent me into such a frenzy so that I could work the same magic upon him. I took him into my mouth. I had not realized how thick and hard and hot it would be. The taste of him was intoxicating. I struggled to relax my throat so that I could take him deeper but I never managed to take all of him into me. This was something I would have to spend a lot of time practicing, I promised myself. Aragorn was battling to keep from thrusting his hips upward. I wanted him to let go and push deep into me but I knew he would not permit himself to do anything he thought might hurt me. Soon I established a rhythm: sliding my mouth up and down his fiercely hot member. I felt the tremors slowly build within him. I increased my pace until suddenly my mouth was filled with his seed. I drank it in like a thirsty man drinks water in a desert. Placing one more soft kiss on the head of Aragorn's now melting penis I moved up to lie beside him. He was still breathing rapidly and his eyes looked far away. I took him into my arms so that his head rested against my chest. After several moments he raised his head to look at me and said: "Thank you, Boromir." "Thank you." I replied hugging him tightly. I felt good, very good. I thought I could even bring myself to be cordial to the elf. All seemed right with the world. Yet there was something left undone. We had found great pleasure in each other, but I wanted something more. Often men away from wives and sweethearts would barter for some comfort from their comrades. I had even done this myself a few times. Of course those brief, clumsy, vaguely awkward trysts were completely different from what Aragorn and I had just done. Still, I wanted something that could not be rationalized as a casual encounter. I decided that I was willing to permit... that with Aragorn I could tolerate... that I would be able to let Aragorn... Why the bloody hell could I not even think it? I decided that I wanted true union with my love. There, that was it. Gods! "Aragorn." "Hmm?" I tried to remember the phrase he had used earlier. "Do you still desire to make love to me?" At my words I felt Aragorn's stomach muscles tighten and his penis twitch. I was pleased with this undeniable demonstration that I was indeed desired. "Yes, dear one, I do. Very much." he said, stroking my hair. "Well?" I asked after a moment. "'Well' what?" Aragorn asked bewildered. "Well, you will have to tell me what you want me to do now. I have never made love with a man before." I was slightly annoyed. I hated admitting ignorance or confusion even at the best of times and at this time there was a great nervousness welling up within me. "Oh, Boromir, we have time, dear one. There is no rush. We need do nothing more tonight. We never need do anything more as long as you are even a little anxious. Besides there might be some pain involved. I don't want anything we do, beloved, to ever hurt you or make you uneasy." "Don't you dare! Don't you dare treat me like a frightened virgin on her wedding night. I don't deserve that and I won't take it from anyone not even from you, my lord." I was seething with rage. In part, I was angry because he had been able to perceive my anxiety. I was a bit apprehensive, it was true. Of course, it had nothing to do with any pain. What was pain to me. But it was the idea of letting someone—even Aragorn have so much control that made me edgy. In a fair world I would have been able to conceal my hesitation. More than my own inability to subdue my emotions I was angered by Aragorn's self-denial and restraint. Yes, he was a healer, kind, gentle, solicitous, always thinking about the welfare of others. But that was only part of who he was. He was also a leader who understood that all gains came with the risk of loss. I had seen him bold and confident in the face of the enemy. In Lórien he had unified us as a fellowship when that pompous gatekeeper had tried to exclude Gimli. He had ruthlessly driven four grieving hobbits onward when false kindness would have left them in danger. He had been willing to accept the loss of his own life if it would aid the ringbearer in his quest and he had turned a rival into a devoted—loving—adherent. Yet somehow he seemed to feel guilty about his own strength. He regarded the latent power inside himself with outright fear and he treated his own desires as if they were always selfish and harmful. What could I do to help him cast off this paralyzing self-doubt? We were both sitting up facing one another. Aragorn's expression seemed to say: 'Somehow I have been careless and now I have hurt him.' But even as I watched his expression started to change. I remained silent, watching. "You are so beautiful when you're angry." "Huh!?" Even as I delivered this eloquent reply I felt myself being pushed gently but firmly back onto the bed. Aragorn kissed me fiercely and I kissed him back. My anger had evaporated leaving behind a growing hunger. After another savage kiss Aragorn turned his head to whisper in my ear: "In truth, Boromir, are you certain?" "Yes." "Swear that if you change your mind you will tell me right away." "I swear." He kissed my temple and said: "Turn over onto your stomach. I am going to get something from my pack that will help." I rolled over onto my stomach as he had instructed. I heard him rummaging through his pack. I realized that I held the bed sheets in two very tightly clenched fists. I made a great effort to slacken my grip. This time I was determined to do nothing that might cause Aragorn to worry about me. When Aragorn returned he began to rub my back. Powerful fingers dug into my muscles. Gradually the worst of my tension began to dissolve. As I relaxed Aragorn moved his hands downward to knead the tight flesh of my buttocks. I caught my breath a little at the first touch but very quickly I grew to enjoy the massage. After I was as tranquil as I was likely to get Aragorn continued to caress my back with one hand. The other hand prodded softly at the side of my mouth seeking admittance. I gladly opened to him. I drew each of his fingers into my mouth sucking harshly at each in turn then stroking them tenderly with my tongue. All too soon he withdrew his fingers from my mouth. I turned my face back into the mattress and tried to concentrate on relaxing. I had been expecting it but I still had to struggle to control a sudden panic response when I felt Aragorn's finger slip smoothly inside the small opening between my buttocks. The panic warred with raging arousal. Then I heard Aragorn's voice: "It's all right, Boromir. My darling, my angel, my heart don't fight me. It's all right." He spoke in a comfortingly rhythmic cadence. Of course, it was absurd for him to say 'don't fight me.' I wasn't fighting. I wanted him to do this. I was bloody well cooperating. Still, it was so soothing to hear his voice. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation once I became used to it. He had worked a second finger in with the first and was exploring my insides, while my muscles got accustomed to being stretched. For some odd reason I thought about the women I had known in my life. They were willing bar maid and eager country girls for the most part. They always acted as though they had found pleasure in my company but had they? Was this what it had been like for them; this incredible feeling of defenselessness, of being controlled? If so, how could they have permitted it, knowing there was no love between us? I was willing to admit that sex could be fun, that it could be about love, but sex was also about power. Perhaps love made it so I didn't mind surrendering power to my beloved. As I thought this I became more intensely aware of the incredible tightness in my groin and I had to amend my last idea. Perhaps love made it necessary—even exciting—to surrender power to my beautiful Aragorn. With each gentle push forward I was coming to really like the feel of Aragorn's fingers more and more. A third finger was added. I was used to the stretching feeling by now and I was able to enjoy the added intensity. Throughout all of this, Aragorn's other hand continued to roam reassuringly over my body. He often leaned forward to kiss my neck and shoulders. Now he added a new element by using his thumb to fondle the underside of my sac. It was all becoming quite wonderful. Suddenly, Aragorn's fingers touched something inside me that sent geysering surges of pleasure throughout my entire body. For a moment I forgot to breathe. When I remembered I released my breath in a loud moan of rapture. Aragorn rewarded this sound by again finding that spot with his fingers. "My beautiful, my perfect, my Boromir!" His voice was more resonant with desire, possessiveness and power than I had ever heard it. I responded instinctively, pushing my hips towards him and letting my belly rub against the sheets. When Aragorn withdrew his fingers from me I nearly kicked the mattress like a child whose candy had been taken away. I heard Aragorn reach for something so I turned my head to watch him. He had a small jar of some sort of creamy liquid. He was slathering the stuff along the length of his penis. Next time, I thought rather idiotically, I want to do that for him. He finished quickly and came back to me. "Boromir, dear-heart, I need you to spread your legs for me." I shuddered. There was the tiniest thread of command in his voice, which was heart-stoppingly erotic. I obeyed making as much room for him as I could. One arm slipped around my waist lifting me upwards until I was resting some of my weight on my knees and elbows. With the other hand Aragorn positioned himself to enter me. My heart was racing and my own penis was dripping. With one firm push he was inside me, burying himself up to the root. It must have hurt but I was no longer able to distinguish between pleasure and pain as he moved, oh god, so slowly back and forth within me. Occasionally he would hit that pleasure center and my toes would curl in reaction, but his pace was driving me mad. I wanted him to find in my body a release from all the constraints and all the burdens of self-discipline and responsibility. "Harder, please, Aragorn! please!" I finally managed to beg desperately. I would lose my sanity if he continued as he was. Above me I heard Aragorn groan helplessly. It may have been only my imagination but I thought I felt a sudden surge of heat from Aragorn's penis. Then he was slamming into me so hard that I was sure that if it had not been for his arm around my waist he would have drilled me into the mattress. I thrust my hips backward to meet him. The impact should have brought down mountains. I simply had no choice I had to reach for my own weeping flesh and provide some relief. I shifted more of my weight onto my left elbow and sought for my aching member with my right hand. Suddenly I heard a low growl in my ear: "No, don't. I want to do that." I let out a soft cry and my penis jumped of its own accord. I wished there was something more he would tell me to do or not to do. The feeling was incredible. Then I felt his hand close around me and begin to pump in time with his own thrusts. I tried to push myself backward onto him and forward into his hand at the same time. I was not going to last much longer. I tried so hard to wait for Aragorn but several strokes later I let out a wordless cry and expelled myself into Aragorn's hand. I had no strength left. I would have collapsed onto the mattress but Aragorn's arm around my waist held me fast. One more powerful thrust and I felt Aragorn come inside me. I could feel Aragorn's strength ebb away from him, yet he still managed to lower me gently to the bed. As I was allowed to collapse slowly onto the bed I felt Aragorn's body disengage from mine. Though I was still starry eyed from my climax I felt the loss. We lay side by side panting. Aragorn had wiped his hand on one of the extra cloths from yesterday's surgery then put his arms around me. After we had recovered somewhat Aragorn asked me tenderly. "How do you feel Boromir?" "I love you," I answered without hesitation, "and I have never felt quite as wonderful as I do right now." He kissed me so sweetly. "I love you, too. You are magnificent, Boromir. You make me feel so glad to be with you." I am nearly certain I did not blush. Aragorn managed to pull a blanket up over us without ever letting me go completely. We were both spent and sleep would come quickly. As I waited, safe in the arms of my beloved Aragorn, I spared a thought for the future. Tomorrow the fellowship would continue its journey: First Rohan then Gondor. It all seemed so blissfully simple all of a sudden. No shadow of pessimism could arise to obscure the brightness of the future. I fell asleep with visions of Aragorn's coronation floating through my mind. anne_robbins@yahoo.com

Title: The Shortest Distance Author: mcguffan anne_robbins@yahoo.com Rating: NC 17 Pairing: A/B Summary: Alternate Universe. The fellowship encounters the orcs and breaks up a little earlier than in the movie/book. Aragorn/Boromir love ensues. Notes: A little feedback would really help my very fragile ego. Please review. This is a first LOTR effort on my part. Archive: Sure, if you want just let me know, please. back to top

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