Batter My Heart Prologue
Aid
"Legolas, get his shirt open, we've got to get this arrow out!" The elf
wiped his knife on the grass, then started unbuckling the various layers of the
Gondorian's rich clothes.
As Legolas eased the chain mail over Boromir's right arm, Aragorn ordered,
"Gimli, hold him up, let me feel what the arrow hit."
"Aragorn, you can damage him more pulling it out," Legolas protested.
"I know, I know it." Aragorn put one hand on the shaft protruding from his
friend's chest, the other hand on his back. "Ah, it missed the shoulder blade,
but it might have nicked his lung."
"Gimli, hold the arrow absolutely still, Legolas, cut the fletching off.
We'll lift the rest of the mail off and then push the arrow out through the
back."
Gimli wrapped his strong arms around the Man's chest and took a firm grip on
the arrow. He nodded to the elf.
"This might work, if his lung is not too badly damaged," Legolas' sharp knife
swiftly sliced off the feathered end of the arrow shaft.
"Keep holding him, Gimli, I'll push it through. When you see it poking his
skin, cut him, Legolas, to help it out."
Boromir moaned as Aragorn began to push. "Hurry, he's starting to come
around! I don't fancy doing this with him awake," Gimli exclaimed. Aragorn
nodded and continued to push. Legolas saw a bulge appearing between the Man's
spinal column and his shoulder blade, and he slashed the spot open.
"I can pull the arrowhead," he said. Aragorn gave another hard push; Legolas
grabbed the tip and pulled the shaft out of Boromir's body.
"Bind the wounds, put his clothes back on, and then let him rest," Aragorn
instructed.
"Where is Frodo?" Legolas asked, as he worked.
"I let him go," Aragorn replied, "the Ring has passed out of our reach. It
is for the best."
"And the others?"
"I do not know, I am going to try to read what tracks may be visible." The
Ranger started off, his eyes on the ground. Legolas finished the bandages and
the Dwarf lowered the injured warrior to the forest floor.
"Can he live?" Gimli whispered.
"I do not know, my friend. Aragorn thinks it did not hit anything vital. If
there is no poison, he has a chance."
After several minutes, Aragorn returned. "Sam went with Frodo."
Boromir thrashed his head. "The little ones," he groaned. Aragorn leaned
over him. "They took the little ones." Aragorn sat back on his heels, lost in
thought.
Finally, he stirred, "We will follow the Orcs. I will not abandon Merry and
Pippin to torment and death."
"But the quest," Gimli protested, "was the Fellowship all for nothing, that
we now let Frodo walk into Mordor alone?"
"No, the Fellowship served its purpose. We who remain will hold true; we
have other endeavors." He looked at Boromir, who was staring up with despair in
his eyes. "We have tasks before us, which may not matter if Frodo fails, but
they are honorable tasks, nonetheless."
He turned to the elf and the dwarf, "Pack only what is necessary, we travel
light." Aragorn kneeled beside Boromir, "Can you walk?"
"Yes, but leave me, I will slow you down. I don't deserve..."
Aragorn interrupted, "Yes, I know, and you and I must have a conversation on
this matter soon, but not now, there is no time." The Ranger got to his feet
and extended a hand to the Steward's son. Boromir slowly grasped the offered
hand and Aragorn pulled him to his feet.
"Where is my horn?"
"I do not know. It was not with you. I will look around for it but we
cannot spare much time, if we are to catch the Orcs."
Boromir felt a shiver of unease as he thought about the missing horn.
Aragorn continued, "Drink this waterskin and eat a whole wafer of lembas. It
will help you regain your health." He loped away. Boromir complied and as he
ate the waybread, he felt some of the marvelous potency of Galadriel's magic
lend him strength.
Legolas and Gimli came back with the remaining supplies. "Let's hunt some
Orc," Aragorn said and the remnants of the Fellowship headed west.
Solace
Aragorn set a hard pace through the woods surrounding the river and onto the
plains of Rohan. Legolas kept up easily, but Boromir and Gimli plodded along as
best they could. Boromir ran and ran, trying not to think, trying to forget,
trying to pretend that the pain afflicting both his soul and his body did not
exist.
When Aragorn finally called a halt, Boromir dropped to the ground where he
stood. As Boromir lay gasping for breath, he remembered all that had happened,
and his body involuntarily curled into a ball of misery. The others left him
alone, while they ate and settled for the night. Gimli alone came over and
insisted that he drink and eat some lembas. As Boromir mumbled his thanks,
Gimli patted his shoulder awkwardly. "Don't do that again, lad. You had us
worried, " he said kindly.
Boromir smiled slightly, wrapped himself in his cloak, and sank back into his
misery. Gimli does not know what I've done. I don't deserve any kindness.
His thoughts continued to chase around in circles: his self-loathing at his
actions towards Frodo, his worry about Merry and Pippin, and his grief for his
lost city.
Aragorn asked Legolas to take the first watch and walked over to Boromir.
"Come with me. It is time for our delayed conversation." Boromir rose and
followed the Ranger a small distance away from the camp.
"I tried to take the Ring," Boromir blurted.
"I know, I saw Frodo before he left."
"Forgive me, I have failed us all. I did not understand. I let despair
overtake me, but I still cannot see any hope. Gondor will fall and my city will
come to ruin." His words tumbled out; he was anxious to make Aragorn comprehend
the depths of his shame.
Aragorn grabbed his arms and stilled their restless movements. "Peace,
Boromir, you fought bravely and you have kept your honor." Boromir tried to
pull out of the Ranger's grip. "No, listen to me, Boromir. You fought to
defend the Halflings. You delayed the Orcs, so we are not far behind them. We
will find them."
Boromir felt his eyes begin to fill and he tried to sink to his knees, but
Aragorn shifted his grip to the other man's upper arms and would not let him
down.
"Penance, I will do any penance you require of me," Boromir begged.
Aragorn flexed his hands, giving Boromir a small shake, "I cannot impose any
penance on you." He shook Boromir again. "I do not require it of you. I
cannot give you any absolution. It is not in my power. Listen to me, you have
made amends, you need do nothing more. I need you." Aragorn punctuated each
statement with a shake. Boromir gritted his teeth as jolts of agony radiated
from his shoulder with Aragorn's rough handling. He tried to focus on what the
Ranger was saying. "I do not know if the blood of my ancestors runs strong in
me, but I swear I will not let the White City fall, nor our people fail."
"Our people... our people," Boromir repeated with wonder.
"Yes, our people. You have shown me with your valor what strength there is
in Men, and I understand the faith it has taken you and your family to continue
this fight when you thought you were alone. I can no longer run from my destiny
and you have shown it to me."
Boromir stared at Aragorn, and his path suddenly seemed clear. "Then I shall
choose my own penance and it shall be this. That I shall follow wherever you
lead. And I shall call you my brother, and my captain, and my King. This I
swear by my name."
"My brother," Aragorn echoed, "you are my brother, not of my blood, but of my
heart. I shall be proud to call you brother."
Boromir felt his heart lighten and he smiled, "Enough of your blood and mine
has been spilled on this quest, that we may be brothers in blood, after all."
Aragorn grinned in reply. "But Aragorn, if you don't stop shaking me, my brains
are going to rattle out and I will be of no use to you."
As Boromir straightened up, his eyes were twinkling and Aragorn suddenly
remembered the first time he had seen the Man of Gondor. Boromir had looked so
young and open when he had wandered the halls of Rivendell, before the Ring with
its foul corruption had worked its evil on him. Before Boromir had discovered
that the man he had taken an instant liking to was in fact his rival for power
in Gondor. The Ranger slid his hand up to cup the other man's face. "I don't
know what I would give to keep that look on your face. Seeing you look so free,
my heart is eased, and my burdens are lighter." His thumb gently stroked the
laugh lines around the green eyes.
Boromir felt his pulse pick up speed. "If I am free, it is your doing. You
are my healing."
Aragorn pulled the younger man closer, and gently kissed his brow, then
lightly brushed his lips over Boromir's. "Be at peace, Son of Gondor. Sleep
and heal."
They turned and walked back to the camp.
Burdens
Boromir unrolled his pack next to the fire, and fell into deep, restoring
sleep. Aragorn went to speak to Legolas, who was walking the perimeter of the
camp.
"Well?" Legolas tilted his head to where Boromir lay.
"He will do for tomorrow. The Ring has worked much evil on his spirit. I
think that with it and Frodo out of our reach, we can hope that he will be
completely healed."
"You rest; I do not need it. I will guard for the night."
Aragorn agreed and went to his bedroll. Sleep was long in coming and he
turned to look at Boromir. In sleep, the Steward's son had the open and
trusting look that Aragorn had seen earlier. Aragorn caught his breath; the
warrior was beautiful. Not the delicate and timeless beauty of the Elf, but the
beauty of strength and hard-won experience carved on his face. Aragorn saw
frown lines on his forehead, but also laugh lines around his eyes, the lines
that had drawn him previously. The Ranger wondered what Boromir would have been
like if he had been allowed to grow up in times of peace. Aragorn had been
raised by Elves and spent most of his adult life with the Dunedain of the North,
but he had never met anyone like the Steward's son. A man who made light of
cave trolls and comforted grieving dwarves. Boromir was a mass of
contradictions. On the one hand, he had proven himself time and again to be a
fierce and courageous warrior. On the other, he was made nearly helpless at
times by his doubts and insecurities. He was a ruthless fighter, but he was so
gentle, so kind and loving to the young Hobbits. Now that the Ring was gone,
Aragorn hoped Boromir could find peace. The Ranger regretted his treatment of
the warrior, regretted his refusal to trust the Man from Gondor when he first
met him. Maybe, if Aragorn had been honest with him, their relationship would
not have been clouded by so many misunderstandings. Aragorn silently vowed that
he would come to understand this man better, and indeed, it was fitting, because
if Aragorn were ever to be King, Boromir would be his Steward.
Boromir slept soundly until he began to dream. He saw an eye made of fire
and heard his father's voice. You have failed me. We will all die and burn.
Gondor will fall. The deaths of all her children shall be your fault. He saw
his father and his brother and they both were being consumed by flames. The
voice went on relentlessly, speaking of horror upon horror that would be visited
upon his people. Gondor was becoming an ash-choked, desolate wasteland.
Boromir began twisting and moaning in his sleep.
Aragorn had been dozing lightly when Boromir's distress wakened him. The
Ranger went over to the shaking man and touched his shoulder softly. Boromir
stilled briefly, but continued to mutter. Aragorn sighed, got his bedroll and
spread it out beside Boromir's. Aragorn lay down beside him, wrapped his long
arms around the warrior, and pulled the man to him. Boromir's muscles gradually
unclenched and he stopped moaning. He slid into peaceful sleep.
Legolas was standing nearby and he exchanged a long look with the Ranger.
Aragorn shrugged his shoulders. He would do what he must to keep his companions
safe, but this added another burden to his shoulders. Aragorn lay there, trying
to sleep, but his thoughts would not let him rest. Gandalf, I cannot do this.
Why did you leave me in charge? I am not fit to be King and I am not fit to
heal this man. He deserves far better than he has ever gotten from my hands. I
have given him nothing but suspicion from the very first moment I saw him. I am
not worthy of this gift of his trust and faith in me.
Boromir shifted slightly in his sleep and snuggled closer into Aragorn's
embrace. Aragorn felt the solid weight of the man in his arms, felt the
strength of the body and the muscles hardened by years of fighting, and knew
that he had to add yet one more item to his guilt over his treatment of Boromir.
For he desired this man. His groin was aching and his pulse was pounding, and
he wanted to kiss him until they both could not breathe. And this was wrong.
Boromir was injured, body and soul, and he depended on Aragorn to make things
right. Aragorn could not take advantage of that dependence by indulging in a
physical relationship that would leave Boromir more wounded than before. But
his only hope was that Boromir would never know his feelings and would never
return them. Because one thing stood out with startling clarity: if the
Steward's son wanted him, Aragorn knew he would never be able to resist.
Hope
The stars were still out and dawn was barely even hinted, when Boromir awoke.
He was puzzled by his situation. The arrow wound in his shoulder was sore, but
the pain had faded somewhat. He remembered vaguely that his dreams had been
troubled. The most curious thing was that he felt an overwhelming sense of
comfort and well-being. Did I die during the night? Have I passed beyond
Middle Earth? But no, he could still feel other aches in addition to his
shoulder. He explored what he was feeling and decided that the comfort stemmed
from the fact that he was warm and someone was embracing him. He slowly turned
his head and gasped as he saw Aragorn's face beside his own. He quelled his
first impulse to jump away and studied the Ranger as he slept. Aragorn kept his
secrets well and was never easy to read. Boromir saw the lines of care on his
face and the faint strands of silver in his hair, and decided that the man was
older than he had thought.
As Boromir continued to gaze, he remembered the first time he had seen
Aragorn in Rivendell, how he had been instantly attracted to the darker man.
Boromir had pushed those feelings away after the dissension at the Council and
the stress of the quest. But now his desire slammed into him with full force
and while his brain was telling him to get up and get away, his body wanted
something else entirely. His brain was getting frantic, Get up, you idiot!
You do not deserve so much as a glance from this man. You are beneath him!
Unfortunately, at that moment, Aragorn tightened his arms around the warrior
and nuzzled his face into Boromir's neck. As Boromir felt his control begin to
shred, he realized two things. First, he was rock hard and his lower body
appeared to be gently grinding into the Ranger. Second, there was an equally
hard cock nudging his own leg. Boromir reached out with a trembling hand and
grasped Aragorn's shoulder. The man came awake in an instant and Boromir felt
himself getting lost in a pair of intense blue eyes.
Aragorn stared back and the moment stretched out until Boromir became aware
of his inner voice hysterically telling him to move. He blushed furiously and
started to gabble. "Uh, sorry, always like this in the mornings... you know,
blood builds up, not on purpose... I mean, not trying to... uh, I'll just go
relieve... I mean... uh." Boromir scrambled out of the bedrolls and nearly ran
to the nearest rock.
As Boromir leaned against the rock and tried to calm himself down enough to
complete his morning piss, he wondered how many times he was going to apologize
to Aragorn and how long the list of his sins would be before they were done.
And he must think you are a halfwit, because you can never string a coherent
sentence together while you are doing this endless apologizing. Boromir
wondered glumly if Aragorn had indeed shaken some of his brains loose the day
before.
When he finally completed his business and returned, he found the others up
and the camp packed. Legolas handed him some waybread and a waterskin.
"We should not have stopped for the night, they are far ahead of us now," the
Elf told Aragorn.
Boromir felt guilt rise in him. They would not have stopped if they had not
had to succor a wounded comrade. Before he could say anything, Aragorn replied,
"We could not be sure that they would hold to a straight course during the
night. We would lose more time backtracking. Also I do not want to miss any
signs that may be visible in the daylight." The tightness in Boromir's chest
eased at Aragorn's words, but his worry for Merry and Pippin continued to gnaw
at him.
"Are we ready, then?" the Ranger asked. He turned to Boromir, "We will have
our vengeance, hey, Boromir? Can you run?" Boromir clenched his fist in reply
and the four hunters sprang away.
They had been running for several hours, when Aragorn suddenly put up a hand
to halt them. "Nobody move!" he ordered, and he swerved off to the side. The
others watched as the Ranger moved slowly along, bent over with his face close
to the ground. Finally, he gave a yell of triumph and came running back.
"See, Legolas, it was not for nothing that we waited for daylight to continue
our hunt!" Aragorn opened his fist and they saw one of the leaf brooches given
to them by the Lady Galadriel. "Yes, the tracks are clear, one of the Hobbits
got away briefly, ran out and dropped this. I believe it was Pippin, because
the prints are small. And, better yet, he was well enough to have his wits
about him, knowing I would be looking for tracks."
Boromir felt an intense wave of relief wash over him. At least one of the
little ones was alive! He began to run again, feeling better than he had in
days.
When they stopped for the night, Boromir was able to help set up camp. After
a brief discussion, they agreed that Legolas would take the watches again, so
the others could rest.
Gimli was already snoring, and Boromir sat on his bedroll, staring at the
fire, when Aragorn approached him. Boromir watched him, watched the easy grace
of the man's walk, the lithe strength of his body, and thought that it would be
extremely difficult to keep his feelings from the Ranger. Aragorn sat next to
him and they both stared at the fire.
Finally, Boromir broke the silence. "You were right."
"About what?"
"The Ring should never come near Minas Tirith. My father..." he gulped. "My
father would not hesitate to take it from Frodo. It would be the ruin of us
all."
"Not many men could resist the lure of the Ring."
"You did. My brother probably could."
"I have Isildur's exceptionally bad precedent to teach me. I have had to
live with the knowledge of his weakness, ever since Elrond told me of my
heritage. As for Faramir, who knows what a man will do, until he is tested? Do
not think that you have failed!"
"I am trying," Boromir said wryly.
"You told me that you could not see any hope. I will give you some. First,
take this." Aragorn handed the Elven brooch to Boromir. "Return it to Pippin
when we find him. And take it in the meantime as a symbol of hope."
Boromir wrapped his fingers around the brooch and nodded gratefully.
Aragorn continued, "The second thing I have to offer is myself." Boromir's
head came up and he stared at the Ranger in shock. You are an idiot, Aragorn.
That did not come out right. Hastily he said, "What I meant was, before I knew
who my ancestor was, before I was of age, my name was Estel. It means hope in
Elvish."
"I know what it means, what are you saying?" Boromir was starting to wonder
if the man could possibly be talking about what he thought he was talking about.
"I mean, you have surrendered yourself to me." He broke off again, seeing
Boromir's look of total amazement. By the Valar, get control of yourself. He
will know how you feel about him!
Aragorn took a deep breath and tried to get his thoughts in order. "What I
am saying is that you have agreed to follow me. And you have given the
responsibility for the safety of Gondor to me. And my name is Hope, so you can
take hope from me." Aragorn decided to quit talking before he bumbled any
worse. That was incredibly pompous, you ass! He did not remember ever being
so flustered around anybody, not even Arwen. "Well, good night."
Boromir watched him go, one eyebrow quirked up in puzzlement. What was that
all about?
Boromir settled himself into his bedroll, and drifted into sleep. When the
dreams began again, he shook off his sleep, but somehow, he was not surprised
when Aragorn slid into the bedroll with him and took Boromir in his arms.
Boromir felt a sense of peace steal over him, and he slept soundly the rest of
the night.
Meetings
The four hunters continued in the same manner for two more days, with Legolas
guarding each night, while Aragorn comforted Boromir as best he could. On the
morning of the fifth day from the river, Legolas woke the others with the news
that riders were approaching.
"Are we facing death this morning, Aragorn?" Gimli asked.
"No, they are not allies of Sauron, but Gandalf thought they might be paying
tribute in horses."
"I refuse to believe that," Boromir interjected, "their horses are their
lives."
The company settled into the grass with their Elvish cloaks wrapped around
them. The horses pounded past them, and most of the troop had passed when
Aragorn hailed them.
"What news, Riders of Rohan?"
The riders wheeled abruptly and the company found themselves surrounded by a
forest of spears. A Rider with a horse-hair plume on his helm dismounted and
approached Aragorn. Boromir recognized him and drew the hood of his cloak
further down over his face. Aragorn noticed the movement and frowned in
confusion.
"I am Éomer, son of Éomund, Third Marshall of the Mark. Who
are you who
trespass in our lands without the leave of our King?" the Rider demanded.
Aragorn wondered why Boromir made no answer, for he surely was known to the
Rider. Finally, he replied, "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Will you aid us or
hinder us? Choose quickly!"
"Aragorn? I know that name. What aid do you require?"
"We are seeking two of our companions, who were abducted by a party of Orcs.
Do you have information? Our companions were small, they would look like
children to you."
Éomer answered, "We found the Orcs and destroyed them yesterday. We
saw no
children."
Boromir felt as though a hammer had slammed into his chest, and his head
began to swim with grief for Merry and Pippin.
But Aragorn pressed on, "With your leave, we will check what signs may be
seen. Our friends are dear to us and we would know for certain their final
fate."
Éomer gave Aragorn a long assessing look. "I know nothing of you save
the
legend of your name and your ancestor. But I see that you are strong and
honest, and I believe your quest is a valiant one. I have three horses with
empty saddles, which you may borrow if two of you would ride double. I am
satisfied with you, but I would know more about your companions first."
Aragorn gestured, "This is Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, and an elf as you
see." Legolas nodded slightly to the Rider.
"The dwarf is Gimli, son of Glóin, of the Lonely Mountain." Gimli
bowed
deeply to Éomer, who inclined his head in return. "My other companion is
a man
like ourselves." They both turned to Boromir, who finally pushed back his hood.
"He is Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor."
But Éomer had already recognized the man and sprung forward to clasp
the
Gondorian's forearm. "Well met, Boromir, why did you not show yourself from the
start? I would have given you anything you asked!"
Boromir sighed, "It is complicated."
Éomer looked into the man's eyes for a long moment, and then nodded,
"Perhaps, when we have leisure, you will explain it to me." Boromir smiled.
Éomer turned back to Aragorn. "The horses I give to you freely, but I
would
ask that you come to Edoras and confirm my actions with my King, when you have
finished this errand."
"We will do so and I will bless this day of our meeting," Aragorn replied.
The Riders brought up the promised horses, with provisions in the saddlebags
and the company quickly mounted. Legolas and Gimli agreed to share a horse.
Aragorn headed out in the direction from which Éomer's Riders had come.
After
several miles, they came to the still-smoking pile of Orc carcases. A long line
of trees blocked the horizon in front of them. Aragorn signaled a halt and told
the others to wait while he looked for signs. They watched in fascination while
the Ranger crawled along the ground, muttering to himself. Finally, he stood up
and loped over to them.
"They escaped into the forest!" Aragorn's smile was brilliant.
"Durin's beard, they were not burned for Orcs," Gimli voiced his relief.
"Indeed. Tether the horses to one of the outer trees. We will enter the
forest on foot to resume tracking them."
The hunters walked into the forest, as Aragorn continued to follow the
Hobbits' tracks. Finally, he came to a large rock and the trail disappeared
completely. He cast around in confusion for several minutes.
"I do not know how to read this. Let us rest and I will try to decipher it."
The company spread out and began to eat some of the provisions that
Éomer had
given them. Aragorn came over to sit with Boromir.
"Perhaps you could explain your reluctance to face Éomer to me now,"
he
inquired.
"Rohan is one of Gondor's most important allies. If you would be Gondor's
King, you must deal with Éomer, who is well regarded by his uncle, King
Théoden.
You must win him over on your own merits, not because you are accompanied by the
son of a Steward."
"I see, but it would have made things easier."
"I gave the keeping of my country to you. I have no doubt that Gondor is in
the best hands possible. And you have confirmed my faith in you." He gave a
short bitter laugh, "Besides, my pride and arrogance nearly got me killed and
imperiled the whole world, all in one go. I thought I would try humility for a
bit."
Aragorn looked into Boromir's eyes, which were still haunted with his own
self-loathing. The Ranger silently gripped the younger man's shoulder, and
wondered how he could be worthy of such confidence, and how he could possibly
heal such pain.
Suddenly Legolas whispered, "Aragorn, there is something moving through the
trees over yonder."
Aragorn was on his feet in an instant, his sword drawn. "What is it?" he
asked urgently. Boromir stood with him, sword and shield at the ready.
"I am not certain," Legolas replied, "it seems to have a white glow, but it
is moving slowly, like a man walking."
Gimli swung his battle-axe nervously, "It could be Saruman, we are not far
from Isengard."
"Hold off any blows until we are sure, but be ready, "Aragorn instructed.
They watched the figure approaching, noting that it appeared to be the figure
of a man, clad in robes so white they seemed to glow. The man's face also,
seemed lit from within, as though a star had been captured in his eyes and now
radiated its light and warmth to all who dared to look upon it. As he neared,
the incandescence became so bright, that not even Legolas could bear to gaze on
him. Finally, with a nimble leap, the figure was on the rock where the Hobbits'
tracks ended.
"What wondrous strange sight is this?" a deep voice inquired. The company
felt as though a warm wind had caressed their faces. "Two men, a dwarf and an
elf in alliance together? Such a thing is unheard of, unless some urgent errand
binds such unlikely companions. Tell me."
None of the hunters were able to speak. The white figure looked at each of
them, and then with a sigh, passed his staff in front of his face. The glow in
his face died back.
As one, the companions sank to their knees, wonder on their faces. Boromir
felt his eyes fill with tears and his heart began to beat so hard, he felt it
would break loose from his chest.
"Gandalf," Aragorn whispered, "you have returned to us beyond all hope."
Gandalf smiled and suddenly the spell holding them speechless and motionless
was broken, and they clustered around him, pelting him with hugs and questions.
The wizard described his fall and subsequent battle with the Balrog. He gave
Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli messages from Lady Galadriel. Finally, he turned to
Boromir, and said, "The Lady sends you greetings as well, Son of Gondor, and
says to you, "Felicitations on your survival and defeat of the Shadow. Few have
fared so well under such circumstances. The weapon you craved is not for you,
but there is one weapon you can bring to Gondor, which can heal all her wounds.
Choose wisely.'"
Boromir felt his grief burst loose and he began sobbing uncontrollably, with
great wrenching bursts of sorrow exploding from his throat. He collapsed onto
the forest floor. "Leave us," Gandalf told the others quietly, as he sat down
beside the anguished warrior. He began to rub Boromir's back in slow circles.
"Merry and Pippin live, you know. Your heroics were not in vain. I met them
here two days ago and they told me of your desperate battle. I did not know
then that you had survived, so I was unable to comfort them."
Boromir's sobs stilled and he swallowed his tears. "Where are they?"
"I gave them into the keeping of a friend of mine. Have no fear for the
Hobbits, he will see that no harm comes to them."
"How is it that you have messages from the Lady for me, if you did not
already
know I had lived?" Boromir scrubbed his hands across his eyes like a fretful
child.
"She bade me to give you those words if I met you."
"Typical elf; her message makes no sense. How can a weapon heal?"
Gandalf gave him a long look, "I think you know."
Boromir thought for a moment. "Oh. Him. Both the fighter and the healer.
Well, I have pledged my fealty to him and I will do all I can to see him on the
throne in the Court of the White Tree. I will support him even against my
father. Have I chosen wisely?" he asked acidly.
"I believe you already know that as well. Let go of your grief, your fall
was necessary."
"Necessary? Necessary that I forsake the oath I swore?" Boromir sat up
abruptly and began clawing at the leaves on the ground. "Necessary that I
attack a member of the Fellowship? Necessary that I betray him?" The warrior's
voice rose into an agonized howl.
"Peace, Boromir, and listen to me. There is also good in the world. I
believe that the same power that put the Ring in Frodo's hands chose every
member of the Fellowship. You were in the Fellowship for a specific purpose,
other than your prowess in battle. It was crucial that Frodo leave the
Fellowship and go to Mordor on his own. Do you know the prophecy made by
Malbeth the Seer upon the birth of Arvedui, the last King of Arnor?" When
Boromir shook his head, Gandalf continued, "He said that no King would rule the
united realms of Arnor and Gondor until the Enemy's Ring had been found again."
Boromir tried to clear his head and understand what Gandalf was saying to
him. "The Ring has been found, therefore it is Aragorn's destiny to become
King."
Gandalf nodded, "Yes, but Aragorn cannot be King if we do not win this war.
What would happen to him if he had been exposed to the Ring's influence for a
longer time?"
"But he resisted it, he sent Frodo away."
"He withstood it that time, but could he continue to do so? For the Ring
will most certainly become stronger, the closer it comes to Mordor and to its
Master. It will be hard enough for Frodo, who has no ambition for power, to
resist it."
Gandalf held up a hand, as Boromir tried to argue with him. "Listen and I
will tell you precisely what you have done. Your actions forced Frodo to leave
the Fellowship, before any harm could be done to Aragorn. I know you think that
perhaps it would have been better if Faramir had come on this errand, and
indeed, I believe that Faramir would have resisted the Ring for a longer time
than you did. But if that had happened, Aragorn would not then be here in
Rohan, where he is needed. In truth, this war has two fronts. To Frodo,
certainly, falls the most important and difficult mission, for if he fails, we
will all of us be defeated. However, what if fulfills his quest and yet all the
lands of the West are burned and destroyed? How then can he have succeeded? It
is to Aragorn that the West must turn for salvation. And Aragorn must first
deliver Rohan if he is to save Gondor."
Boromir sighed, "Yes, I see that."
"There is more. Aragorn feared his heritage and he feared that he would
fail. You have forced him to try to be the King he was meant to be. If you had
not compelled him otherwise, he would make no effort to be anything but a Ranger
of the North. As you know from your own experience, no man is ever comfortable
changing his image of himself.
Boromir nodded and Gandalf resumed his lecture, "And then there is the matter
of Merry and Pippin. You delayed the Orcs with your valor. Delayed them enough
that Éomer could intercept them before they reached Isengard, and thus
the
Hobbits were allowed to escape. And so Merry and Pippin also are exactly where
they need to be, because their coming to this forest was as the distant rumble
of thunder presages a destructive storm. And I believe that this particular
storm is going to drown Saruman."
Gandalf looked at Boromir with a mischievous look in his eyes, "Better?"
Boromir gave him a tired smile, "It is a hard thing, for one such as I,
schooled in my duty to Gondor all my life, to be the instrument of this power of
good. To fulfill my destiny by forsaking everything I thought I was."
"Only the most loyal son of Gondor would have felt her pain so acutely."
Boromir whispered, "But I still hear the Ring, calling me, making promises.
I know that it is only lies and I will not listen to it. But it still tries."
Gandalf gripped his shoulder, "I cannot tell how or when, but I believe that
its hold on you will be broken."
"I suppose I am better knowing that my two little ones are well. And I will
think on the rest of what you have told me."
Gandalf clapped him on the shoulder, "Good man." He raised his voice so that
the others could hear, "Now we ride to Edoras, for the tidings of the war are
grim for the Riders of Rohan." He held out a hand to Aragorn, "Do not regret
your choice at Amon Hen. You did the right thing by following the Hobbits." He
led them to the edge of the forest to get their borrowed mounts. There too,
they found Gandalf's magnificent stallion, Shadowfax. The company prepared to
ride and then headed south towards the White Mountains.
Company
Gandalf on Shadowfax led them south without tiring for many hours. Boromir
had time to consider Gandalf's words during the long day. The Gondorian's sense
of honour warred with his respect for Gandalf's wisdom. Surely, the son of the
Steward was obliged to keep all his oaths and not fall victim to evil? But if
the wizard were to be believed, Boromir was the only one whose actions could
have set the pieces of this war into their proper positions. The tangled knot
of duty and knowledge could not be resolved and Boromir's head was beginning to
ache with thinking about it, when Gandalf finally called a halt for the night.
The remnants of the Fellowship quickly set up camp, and Aragorn and Boromir
placed their bedrolls together without discussing it or even paying attention to
what they were doing. Gandalf noticed the arrangement, but made no comment as
he watched through the night. Boromir lay on his roll, staring at the stars in
the endless Rohan sky, and felt, for the first time in many months, that maybe
there was some hope to be had in this world. He finally accepted Gandalf's
words, the warm bulk of his dearest friend and blood-brother lay beside him, and
he felt a small, fragile tendril of peace wind its way through his heart. But
one thought kept running through his mind, which threatened his peace, If I
have fulfilled my destiny, why am I still here?
Gandalf woke them before sunrise and they continued their swift ride to
Edoras. They reached the Golden Hall at mid-afternoon and attempted to see King
Théoden, but they encountered difficulties at the gate. Éomer had
been exiled
for disobedience and could not verify who they were, and Boromir once again
refused to use his name to gain them entrance.
"Things would be much simpler if you would just declare yourself," Aragorn
told him sharply as they removed their weapons in preparation for an audience
with the King.
"I know, but I told you, I am not a part of this game, you are. I will not
interfere, my Captain," Boromir replied softly.
"Ah, Boromir, forgive me. My nerves are taut today, for some reason,"
Aragorn held out a hand to the other man.
Boromir clasped the offered hand and smiled, "Always, my brother." Aragorn
drew his breath, as he found himself staring into sparkling green eyes.
The moment ended when the guards summoned the party into the presence of King
Théoden. Boromir was shocked at the King's appearance; he was old and
withered,
much more than he should have been. The King's guards and the visitors watched
with disbelief as Gandalf wrestled Saruman out of the King. Finally,
Théoden
was restored to his proper strength and health, and stood before the gathering
with a straight back and clear eyes.
"Tell me how fares the world," King Théoden demanded of Gandalf.
Gandalf went with the King into the council chamber and there they remained
for several hours. When they returned, Théoden gave orders that his
Riders
prepare to ride out at dawn the next day. Aragorn, Legolas, Boromir and Gimli
were each given rooms of their own to rest until dawn, for Aragorn had decided
to fight with the Rohirrim.
Aragorn paced his chamber, unable to sleep, or stop thinking. He was not
tempted by the soft bed, as downy as his own in Rivendell. He was restless for
the coming battle, but his unease stemmed from something else. He gave himself
a very firm lecture on the subject, but it did no good. You cannot stay here
and pace the night away because you are missing that stubborn warrior! You are
not a child, that you cannot fall asleep without your favorite toy. Leave him
alone, he is most likely happy just to have a bed to sleep in. Unfortunately,
the thought of Boromir in a bed brought up all sorts of ideas that Aragorn was
not prepared to deal with at that moment. After many more minutes of stomping
around his room, the Ranger decided that he would just wish Boromir good night
to be certain that the Gondorian would not be bothered by nightmares. You are
deceiving yourself, my Captain, he is only in the next room, if he has
nightmares, you will hear him. But Aragorn, who chose not to listen to that
sneering inner voice, went and knocked on Boromir's door.
Boromir answered the door wearing his under tunic and leggings and holding
his chain mail in his hand. The lamps were lit in the room and the fire was
bright. Boromir opened the door wider and gestured for Aragorn to enter.
"I am surprised to see you still awake," Aragorn said, "what are you doing?"
"Checking over this chain mail. My gear needs some tending, there has been
no opportunity since Lothlórien."
"Indeed, my own equipment could use some attention."
"Bring it here, then. Such chores pass more quickly with company."
Aragorn went to get his sword, and was surprised that the smile on his face
was so wide. When he returned, both men settled in front of the fire with
whetstones and polishing cloths in hand. They talked easily while their hands
attended to the tasks of caring for their weapons and other gear.
Aragorn saw that Boromir's left arm was moving stiffly as he worked on his
equipment. "How is your wound, may I see it?" Aragorn told himself that his
interest was strictly as a healer to his patient, as Boromir slid his shoulder
out of his tunic. The wound on his chest was puckered and livid, but Aragorn
saw no signs of infection. The place on his back was much cleaner, thanks to
Legolas' knife.
"We face battle again tomorrow, will you be able to fight? We have not
needed your arm since Amon Hen."
"I am grateful that it is not my sword arm. I do not need to move the shield
so much. I think it will do." Boromir shrugged his arm back in to his tunic.
He picked up his sword and resumed sharpening it.
"When did you see the White City?" Boromir asked, after a comfortable break
in the conversation. "You told me in Lórien that you had seen Minas
Tirith,
perhaps we have met before."
Aragorn answered slowly, "I served Lord Ecthelion for many years."
"Ecthelion?" Boromir was shocked. "How old are you?"
The Ranger gave him a wry look, "I am ninety-one."
Boromir burst out laughing, "You carry your years lightly, my brother!
Brother? I should call you father, for you are the same age as my own."
"You are never going to let this go, are you?"
Boromir smirked, "Of course not, wait till I tell the Dwarf!"
Aragorn rolled his eyes at the Gondorian who was still laughing so hard, he
could barely hold his sword and whetstone.
"Wait, you are Thorongil, aren't you?" Boromir stared at the Ranger. "I've
heard stories about you all my life."
Aragorn nodded tiredly, "I cannot believe that Denethor would tell his sons
stories about Thorongil. He was not fond of me."
"He didn't, Father would hardly acknowledge your existence. But the older
members of the Tower Guard told many tales about Ecthelion's Eagle. So, not
only Isildur's Heir, but a living legend in Gondor as well. I am privileged to
be allowed in your company. Should I grovel?"
Aragorn threw a polishing cloth at Boromir's head. "Are you going to stop
teasing me any time soon?"
"Not while I have life and breath," Boromir smirked again.
Boromir was still snickering quietly as he resumed his tasks. Soon the
conversation turned back to small, mundane matters. When their equipment had
been restored to perfect condition, the talk continued. Aragorn could not ever
remember laughing as much as he did with the Steward's son. As Aragorn sat in
the pleasant light of the fire, he looked at the man whom he now called brother,
and felt a sense of serenity creep over him. This interval before the battle
would be precious to him, and he would forever remember this time spent with
this man who had become so dear to him.
Fall
The next morning, King Théoden and his people set out for the
fortified retreat of Helm's Deep. His distinguished visitors accompanied him.
Gandalf rode with them on Shadowfax, but after a few miles, he went to
Théoden and Aragorn, saying that he had other matters to attend. "Look
for me at the dawn of the second day." Several of the Riders grumbled at this,
that he was deserting them, but Théoden refused to believe it. Boromir looked at Aragorn, "Where is he going?" "To find Éomer, I hope," came the reply. The line of refugees was spread out over a mile. The Riders of the First
Éored rode back and forth, trying to protect the straggling line of
people. Boromir walked with Aragorn and their easy camaraderie of the night
before continued. They were so wrapped up in each other that they did not
notice the longing glances given to Aragorn by the King's niece,
Éowyn. After a time, Aragorn said casually, "The road to Minas Tirith does not pass
through Helm's Deep. It runs the other way, actually. Why do you not go home?
I know you long for the White City." "Does your road run through Helm's Deep?" Boromir queried. "Yes, I've already said I would go to the battle," Aragorn answered. "Then my road goes there, too." Aragorn suddenly leaped on his horse. "Come, Boromir," he said, pointing to
an outcropping of rocks in the distance, "let's scout." A wild mood had
abruptly come over him. Boromir barely had time to get in the saddle, before
the Ranger was away. The blond pushed his horse as hard as he could to catch
the darker man, but though he was able to catch up to Aragorn, he was unable to
pass him. They raced together, their horses straining, with Aragorn's horse a
half a stride ahead of Boromir's. As Boromir tore along beside his liege, he
felt the incredible speed begin to burn his old life away. No longer was he the
son of the Steward of Gondor, with all the pride and dignity that rank entailed.
No longer would he seek mastery over men and armies. No longer would he contend
for power, not with his father nor with Aragorn. He would be a loyal soldier,
to his King and to Gondor, no more, no less. As they continued their insane
dash over the uneven ground, Boromir knew that all ambition had burned away from
him, leaving him with only one yearning: that he be allowed to be in this place
forever, one step behind Aragorn, but always at his side. When they reached the rocks, Aragorn finally reined up and turned to Boromir.
The Gondorian felt as though he had been hit with another arrow to the chest.
Aragorn had a savage grin on his face, his hair was whipping about his head and
his eyes had a fierce light in them, as that of some deadly predator. The
Ranger made Boromir think of a wild thing that had been brought to civilization
and had agreed to live by its rules, but underneath was still untamable.
Boromir realized that, somehow during their headlong flight, he had bound
himself to the Ranger, that he was no longer free, that his very life depended
on Aragorn's presence in it. The forward scouts came racing back to warn of the approach of a company of
warg-riders. The two Men of Gondor quickly unsheathed their swords, and with
the rest of the Riders, followed the scouts back to the attackers. King
Théoden turned to Éowyn, "Lead the people on to Helm's Deep, my
dear, we will pull these warg-riders away from the women and children." He
wheeled and followed his Riders. The Riders swiftly found the warg-mounted Orcs and the horses crashed into
the lines of the enemy. Gimli jumped off of the horse he had been sharing with
Legolas, the better to swing his axe. The battle went on, and when Aragorn's
horse went down, he continued to fight on foot. Legolas checked to be certain
that the Ranger had his fight with the Orc under control, then the Elf turned to
aid one of the Riders. Aragorn leaped on the Orc in an attempt to unseat the
brute from his loathsome steed, but the Man did not realize that his arm was
caught in the saddle as he stabbed the Orc. The Orc rolled off and Aragorn
tried to disengage his arm, and only then did he realize that he was trapped.
The warg, maddened by the feeling of the Man near him, ran full speed towards
the nearby bluff. Aragorn frantically tried to free his arm, but did not
succeed until the beast had pulled them both over the edge and they were
plummeting toward the river below. Legolas had not seen Aragorn trapped by the warg, but Boromir, who was ever
in Aragorn's shadow, watched in horror as the warg dragged Aragorn over the
cliff. No! I am nothing without you! Before Legolas or any of the Riders
could react, he flung himself off of his horse, ran to the cliff and leaped
after Aragorn.
Surrender
Boromir was able to gather himself as he fell, and he hit the water at a good
angle. He held his breath as the water closed over his head, and immediately
pushed toward the surface. Thank the Valar, the water is deep here. He
could have survived the fall. But which way? Surely downstream? Boromir
swam to the bank and began to walk downstream. In the meantime, Aragorn drifted in the river unconscious, finally coming to
rest in a shallow pool. He opened his eyes and saw Arwen leaning over him.
"Why did you not leave with your people?" She made no reply, only looked at him
with intense love and bent over him to bestow a sweet, lingering kiss. She was
fading away as Aragorn tried to reach for her. "Evenstar!" Aragorn slipped
back into oblivion as she disappeared. As Boromir stumbled through the rocks at a bend in the river, he heard a
horse nicker, and rounding the bend, found Aragorn's horse. This is a good
sign. He did not think to wonder how it got there, but instead caught up
the horse's reins and continued along the river. After a few more minutes of
walking, he spied a dark shape floating in a pool near the shore. As he began
to run, he whispered, "Please live." Boromir saw that it was indeed Aragorn, and dragged the man out of the water.
He removed his gloves to find Aragorn's pulse. Once he had found it and saw the
Ranger's chest gently rising and falling with his breaths, Boromir sighed with
relief. Aragorn was in no immediate danger. The Ranger was covered with small
cuts and scrapes, but none were serious. Boromir went back to the horse,
secured its reins with a rock, and then sat down beside his fallen King,
removing his vambraces as well. The Man of Gondor spent the time waiting for the Dunedan to wake up
contemplating the circumstances that had led him to this place. How did
this happen? When did this happen? He could no longer hear the Ring's
call and he realized that he had not heard its evil voice in his head for some
time. He had been enslaved to it since he had seen it at the Council of Elrond.
But the chains it had put on him had been broken and replaced with something
else. He had willingly bound himself to Isildur's Heir out of a complicated mix
of duty and respect and friendship. The Gondorian looked on the face of the
unconscious man before him, and suddenly knew that his emotions were not
complicated at all. Boromir discovered that he felt far more that friendship
and respect for his blood-brother. I love him. How? Boromir closed
his eyes in sorrow. Forty years old and I fall in love for the first time
in my life. With a man, which will make Father try to kill both of us, for
certain. Boromir opened his eyes and let them wander over the form of the
Ranger. He looked at the stern face, remembered the eyes, full of grief for all
the things he could not fix. Boromir recalled Aragorn's laughter the night
before and wished he could hear the joyful sound more often. Boromir's gaze
focused on the Ranger's chest, imagined the play of muscles under the clothes.
His eyes moved to the long legs, wondered what they would look like naked.
Boromir shook his head sharply. What are you doing, idiot? Lusting over a
man you do not deserve! Boromir stared determinedly into the water, until he sensed the man beside
him stirring. He turned and watched as Aragorn's eyes slowly came open. The
blue eyes were cloudy with confusion and Boromir caught his breath. The Ranger
was desirable beyond all comprehension. I cannot let him know!
Boromir looked into the sapphire eyes for a long moment. Then he reached into
the stream and splashed water on the befuddled Ranger. "What?" Aragorn spluttered. "I swear to follow you anywhere and you lead me right off a cliff!" Aragorn sprang to his feet; Boromir followed instantly. Aragorn shook his
head as if he was dizzy. "Have you lost your mind? What are you talking
about?" He grabbed Boromir's upper arms and shook him. Boromir shoved him off with a blow to his chest. "I am not the idiot who let
a warg drag him over a precipice! I swore to follow you, so I did. And I told
you to stop shaking me!" Aragorn shoved him back, "I went over by accident, what kind of fool jumps
off a cliff on purpose?" This time Boromir grappled with Aragorn's shoulders, trying to shove him into
the water. Aragorn tried to get a grip on Boromir's neck, and as the two men
wrestled back and forth, Boromir gasped out, "I am a fool, that I vouch, but I
feared for you." The tension flowed out of Aragorn suddenly and he stilled. He shifted his
grip on the younger man until his hands were cupping the back of Boromir's neck.
Boromir froze. Aragorn leaned his head forward until his forehead touched the
warrior's and their noses met. The Ranger stared into the green eyes with
wonder. Boromir hardly dared to breathe, as he felt himself probed by those
fierce blue eyes. Aragorn was getting lost in green eyes. They are not emerald green, they
are green like grass, like growing things. He looked at Boromir and tried
to see him, without thinking about what he might do or what trouble he might
cause, just to see the man. He saw a man of his own blood, of Númenor. But
with a strength and stubbornness all his own. He saw a man who would always try
to do the right thing, and like all men, not always succeed. Aragorn also saw
in the green eyes the faint hint of Elvish blood he had from his mother. As he
looked deeper, and Boromir endured his scrutiny, Aragorn perceived that, in many
ways, Boromir was his equal. And that there could be no shame in submitting to
this warrior. Aragorn drew a deep shuddering breath and dropped his eyes. Boromir felt as
though invisible bonds had suddenly released him and he grabbed the Ranger's
shoulders for support. Aragorn's hands were still wrapped around the back of
his neck, and Boromir realized the unwitting intimacy of their position.
You are a fool, you are going to make a mess of this. But he could not
help himself. He leaned forward and captured the Ranger's lips with his
own. Aragorn understood in an instant how foolish was his hope that Boromir would
not desire him. Boromir's lips were soft but the pressure of them against his
own mouth was firm, as his beard gently scraped Aragorn's lips. The warrior
held him lightly, as if he would allow the Ranger to break away if he wanted.
Aragorn knew that he would not deny Boromir anything, and he knew that the only
was to make this right for Boromir's wounded soul was to let him have dominance.
And Aragorn suddenly saw clearly that he wanted nothing more than to surrender
all to this man. Aragorn made a small whimper in the back of his throat and the mood of the
kiss changed abruptly. Boromir moved his hands to the other man's waist and
pulled him hard against his own body. The lips, which had been gentle, became
demanding. Boromir opened his mouth and sucked Aragorn's lower lip into his
mouth, caressing it with his tongue. Aragorn felt his head begin to spin and
still the warrior had done nothing but kiss him. The blood rushed to his groin,
and his cock became painfully hard. Boromir kissed like the world was ending
and the only way to stop it was to put all of his attention to the business of
kissing Aragorn. The Ranger had never felt so overwhelmed and overset by one
kiss. He moaned and instantly, his open mouth was invaded by Boromir's tongue.
As Boromir plundered his mouth, he grasped Aragorn even tighter. Aragorn felt
Boromir's erection grind against his own. The Ranger's head was swimming from
desire and lack of air, when he finally broke the kiss. Aragorn shuddered as he wrapped his left arm around Boromir's neck and buried
his right hand in the dark blond hair. Boromir, still holding him solidly
against his own body, turned the Ranger's chin to him. "What do you want, my
King?" he asked. Aragorn drew a shaky breath and stared once more into green eyes. "No, in
this, you are the master. So I ask you, what to you want, my Lord?" Aragorn
felt another wave of desire wash over him when he saw the flare of passion in
those eyes at his words. "I want you," Boromir replied in a voice hoarse with lust. Aragorn spread his hands, "Then take me."
Taken
Boromir threw back his head and let out a shout of laughter. "Oh, Aragorn,
you really are the most pompous man I have ever met. And considering that I am
the son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, that is saying quite a bit." "I..." Aragorn started, but Boromir interrupted. "Don't worry, I fully intend to take you, but I'm going to teach you to have
a bit of fun first. Are all the Dunedain as dour and serious as you are? No,
never mind, I do not want to know. And raised by elves, they are always going
on about something." Aragorn grinned, "You are demonstrating a shocking lack of respect for your
King." Boromir grasped Aragorn's face with his hands and proceeded to give him the
sloppiest kiss he could manage. He concluded by running his tongue up the side
of the darker man's face to his hair. Aragorn started to snicker. Boromir
moved his mouth to Aragorn's neck and started to suck with all his might,
determined to leave evidence that the Ranger would have a hard time explaining.
Aragorn's snickers grew into deep belly laughs as Boromir continued to maul
him. "Enough, my Lord, you have made your point," Aragorn gasped as he tried to
catch his breath from laughing. Boromir brought his lips up for another kiss, this time running his tongue
gently along Aragorn's lips until they opened for him. As Boromir explored his
mouth with his tongue, Aragorn was still shaken by an occasional gust of
laughter. When he opened his eyes to the kiss, he discovered green eyes looking
at him, and he exploded into a fresh bout of mirth. "You see, loving should always be like this, laughter mixed with passion,"
Boromir told him. As Aragorn stared into the twinkling eyes, with those delicious laugh lines,
he lost his breath again, but from desire this time. He swallowed, "I have
little experience with loving, of any sort, man or woman. Most of my journeys
have been made in solitude." "Soldiering has advantages over rangering, then. We always have
companionship, whether it is in whoring or in each other." Aragorn found that his fingers were once again tracing the lines on the
southerner's face. "Show me," he whispered. Boromir gave him a fierce grin, "Clothes first, I think." He began unlacing
Aragorn's tunic as the Ranger started dropping weapons to the ground. Boromir's
lips followed his fingers as he bared the tanned chest. Aragorn sucked in his
breath as Boromir's mouth wandered over his right nipple. Then he lost all
desire to breathe as the other man's teeth worried the tight bud. Aragorn felt his lips and fingertips begin to buzz with desire to intense to
bear. "Please, I need..." "Shh. All in good time." Boromir's hands found the ties to Aragorn's
leggings and he started easing them down the darker man's hips, as once again,
his lips followed his fingers over the Ranger's leanly muscled body. When Aragorn was finally naked, Boromir stood back and gave him a long,
appraising look. "As beautiful as I imagined," he murmured. Aragorn was
slightly taller than Boromir, and the Ranger was muscular without heaviness, all
sinewy elegant grace and danger. Numerous scars marred his skin, but to Boromir
they just added to the allure. Aragorn's chest was lightly covered in dark
silky hair, which narrowed to a line leading down to his groin. Boromir reached
out a hand and gently traced the path of hair down to Aragorn's aching member.
When the other man finally circled the source of his need with his hand, Aragorn
nearly fell to his knees. Boromir drew closer, and opening his lips, pursued
the path his fingers had taken. As Boromir took Aragorn into his mouth, a deep
tearing groan burst from the Ranger. The sight of the Steward's son on his
knees, Aragorn's swollen cock in his gorgeous face, his soft blond hair brushing
Aragorn's thighs, was too much, and Aragorn came, shouting and spewing his seed
into Boromir's mouth. Boromir swallowed it all and then sat back on his heels,
licking his lips like a satisfied cat. Aragorn's knees would no longer hold him and he sank down beside the blond.
"You..." he was incoherent, "clothes... off." "What was that?" Boromir smirked, "I didn't quite catch what you said." Aragorn drew in a deep breath and tried to collect his scattered thoughts.
He reached over and shakily began undoing the clasps on Boromir's leather coat.
The Ranger finally pushed the coat and Elven cloak off the Gondorian's
shoulders, and began to work on the maroon over tunic. Aragorn had recovered
his facilities when he got to the chain mail. "How much more do I have to
unwrap, before I can see you?" Aragorn demanded as he drew the mail over the
man's head, only to encounter another layer of clothing. When he had at last unveiled all of Boromir, it was Aragorn's turn to stare.
The younger man was bulkier than the Ranger, with muscles hardened from swinging
his enormous broadsword. His shoulders were large, but his torso tapered to
powerful, yet lean hips. His legs were equally sturdy, thickly bound with
muscle and dusted with golden hairs which caught the light of the fading Sun.
His chest had well-defined pectoral muscles and more tawny hair, which trailed
down to his groin. Aragorn put out a hand to trace one of the many scars on
Boromir's skin. It was the puckered arrow wound high on the left side of his
chest. "Does it still hurt?" he asked softly. "Not when you touch it." Boromir turned and spread out one of the Elven cloaks, and laid himself down
on it, opening his arms for the Ranger to join him. Aragorn complied instantly,
and as he lay down, the warrior twined his legs around the leaner man, and
pulled Aragorn into another soul-stealing kiss. Boromir rolled them over until he was on top. They were both gasping for
breath as they ground their erections together. "I would take you," Boromir
said. "Yes," Aragorn answered, as he felt both fear and excitement lance through
him. Boromir looked at him and the green eyes were gentle and soft, like the
first brush of new life in the spring. Aragorn felt his fear melt away for he
knew then that Boromir would be a patient and considerate lover. "On your knees, love, it will be easier this first time," Boromir urged
Aragorn into the proper position. The Ranger trembled, he felt open and
exposed, his erection was rigid and heat washed through him, leaving his skin
flushed. He had given up control in his surrender to Boromir, but these
feelings only served to intensify his desire. Boromir knelt behind the other man, and massaged the tight entrance with his
fingers, "Relax, open yourself to me." Aragorn was starting to feel dizzy again, and he pushed back against Boromir.
"No... please... I just want you... to fill me," he protested, trying to talk
past waves of need surging through him. Boromir sucked in his breath, fighting for control. The Ranger's words were
threatening to undo him, but he knew from the fear he had seen in Aragorn's eyes
that the other man was inexperienced in this. He would make this act good for
his love. He put his legs between Aragorn's, forcing the Ranger's knees further
apart. He rubbed Aragorn's cheeks, and then using his saliva for lubrication as
best he could, he nudged his head at the puckered entrance. "You must open for me, this will be better if you relax," he soothed the
other man. Aragorn let out a ragged groan as the words and the feel of Boromir
about to enter him washed all his reservations away. He had never known
submission could be so arousing. As Boromir worked the tip of his cock into Aragorn, he whispered, "Bear down.
Open for me." The darker man responded and suddenly Boromir was fully seated in
his blood-brother. The warrior stayed still for a moment to allow the Ranger to adjust to the
invasion, but Aragorn had other ideas. His body had been breached and he was
totally in Boromir's power. He reared up and thrust back into his lover until
his spine was against the blonde's chest. He turned his head and pulled the
other man into another kiss. When they broke the kiss, fierce blue eyes stared
once again into green. "You belong to me," Aragorn told Boromir. "I belong to you," Boromir agreed. He pushed Aragorn down again and pumped
into him with a hard but slow rhythm. With each inward plunge, he repeated the
litany, "I belong to you... to you... to you." To which Aragorn responded only,
"More." Soon Boromir was slamming into the other man with force and speed, and
they were both nearing the edge. Boromir reached around and rubbed the Ranger's
cock with hard, sure strokes. Aragorn lost all constraint and yelled as another
orgasm blew through his body. Boromir came a moment later, roaring with his
release as he spilled into his lover. They separated and Boromir collapsed on to the Ranger, intertwining their
legs, as the last ray of sunlight disappeared below the edge of the plain.
Space
After a time, Boromir pulled Aragorn to his feet and they went to the river
to clean up. The water was icy and the air, once the Sun went down, still had
an early spring chill to it. "That wasn't the best idea I ever had, " Boromir commented, wrapping himself
in his cloak as he began to shiver. "I suppose a fire is out of the
question?" "We do not know who else is out here." Boromir grunted in acknowledgment. "Probably no food either. I say, this is
a very shoddy tryst you planned for us, Ranger." "I didn't..." Aragorn glared, and then trailed off as he saw Boromir's smirk.
"I believe I still have some lembas in my pack. Perhaps it survived immersion."
He began to dig in his pack. Boromir was not diverted by Aragorn's attempt to change the subject, "You
just wanted to get me alone." By some remnant of Elven magic, the mallorn leaves had kept the water away
from the cakes and they were still fresh. Aragorn offered some to the other
man. "Here, the lembas is good." "Not until you admit that you wanted to have me to yourself." Boromir
ignored the proffered waybread. "Alright! I thought about it! But I certainly did not plan this. You
followed me!" "Ha, I knew it! And I freely confess that I have thought about it many
times. Although my fantasies always included an actual bed," Boromir said with
a laugh. "This whole scenario could be much improved." "No," Aragorn disagreed. "This is perfect. Our lives are nothing but a long
watch between the sleep before birth and the sleep of death, and these few hours
with you are precious. We have been given a space for love and delight, and I,
for one, will take what we have been given with gratitude." Boromir, whose eyes had gone soft green again, agreed, "Yes, this thing
between us will never be this simple again, will it?" Aragorn shook his head, "This little cove is somehow a place outside the
world, where the obligations and duties we face do not exist. Where we are no
more than two people who care deeply about each other." Boromir pulled the cloak around the two of them, "A space between one battle
and the next." He added softly, "I no longer hear the Ring." Aragorn raised his head, as Boromir continued, "You have replaced it in my
heart." Aragorn shifted the younger man closer and kissed him gently. His
fingers wandered over the warrior's shoulder until they once again encountered
the arrow scar. "I am sorry, my brother," the Ranger whispered. Boromir raised his head. "Sorry for what?" he asked with surprise. "I was not there to help you when you needed it. I heard the Horn, but more
and more Orcs were in the way." "No, stop. I didn't die. We are both here and we are together. Let it be
enough." Aragorn stroked the soft blond hair. "Our road is still long and perilous.
I cannot see how I can reclaim the throne without causing serious political
disruption in Minas Tirith, and the Steward did not like me when I was last
there." "My father should at least thank you for saving my life, and your destiny
will take care of itself. I do not know about the rest." "The rest of what?" Aragorn inquired. "This," Boromir gestured at their naked bodies, "us." "Is such a relationship frowned upon in Gondor? I cannot recall..." "No, not frowned upon. It is not commonplace, but it happens enough to not
cause any comment." Boromir sighed, "My father, as they say, is a whole
different story. He is... I am not sure what to say. He is proud, and
suspicious. And a hard and difficult man. Faramir bears the brunt of his ill
nature, but I have felt the sharp side of his tongue more than once. He will
likely think you seduced me in some strange bid for power." Aragorn snorted, "Twas you who seduced me. I'll tell him." Boromir began to chuckle, "Please, make sure I am present for that
conversation! No, on second thought, make sure I am miles away." He quieted
and nuzzled his face into the other's tanned neck. After a time, he said, "I
didn't know what I was looking for when I set out last summer. No more than the
answer to the riddle, I thought. As it happens, I found what I didn't know I
needed." "And what was that?" "Hope. I was looking for hope and I found you. You are the hope my heart
longed for. The Lady spoke true when she told me there was still hope. But I
did not see, I refused to see so many things, until it was almost too late."
Boromir tightened his hold on Aragorn convulsively. Aragorn caressed the younger man's face and whispered soothing words until
Boromir quieted, and they were silent for a time. "I thought the riddle of your dream was meant to summon me to Minas Tirith,"
Aragorn said softly. "I thought it was sent to Faramir by the Valar, to tell me
that my long exile was ending. That it was time to decide whether I would be
Isildur's Heir and reach for all that entails. Or would I stay a Ranger of the
North, content to strive quietly in the shadows. I meant to come with you all
along, but then Gandalf was lost and the onerous burden of leading the
Fellowship fell to me. I thought my duty was to follow Frodo to Mordor. I
would have come with you." "Thank you for that," Boromir said, wrapping his arms around his lover. As they lay bundled in their cloaks, but still naked, Aragorn pillowed his
head against Boromir's chest and stared at the stars. "What a bold firmament,
what a majestic roof of air, fretted with golden fire." Boromir stirred slightly and pulled the Ranger closer. Aragorn looked at the
man he now called lover, "Was that pompous?" Boromir put a hand under Aragorn's chin and lifted the other man's lips to
his own, "No, not pompous, just beautiful. I love you, you know." He turned
them both over and nudged his muscular leg between Aragorn's slimmer ones. "I
know you must be sore still, but... ?" "A little sore, but I want you." Boromir groaned as desire washed through him at the Ranger's words. He put
his other leg inside Aragorn's knees, and spread him wide open. The stars in
the endless Rohan sky looked down as the warrior of Gondor and the Ranger of the
North made love, with no thought in their minds other than the pleasure of their
bodies.
Battle
After one more passage of arms the next morning, the lovers knew that their idyll was over and their duties called them. They packed their gear, and mounted double on Aragorn's horse, headed for Helm's Deep.
As he rode, Boromir still felt wrapped in the peace that had come to him with loving Aragorn. His arms were wrapped around the Ranger's firm stomach and Aragorn occasionally dropped a light caress on Boromir's clasped hands.
The pair had been riding several hours when their path took them to the edge of a cliff. The sight below caused both men to gasp with horror. Saruman's army marched against Rohan and it was vast. There were tens of thousands of Orcs of various natures, half-Orcs and Dunlendings. All arrayed against the pitiful force of the King of the Mark.
"Saruman must have emptied Isengard," Boromir said with trepidation.
"Aye, we must hurry. King Théoden needs every man that can stand." Aragorn set his heels to the horse and they sped away to the refuge of Helm's Deep.
They found Legolas in the great fortress. "You are late." He smiled with relief, "I knew it was not your destiny to die." He looked at Boromir, "I see you found him."
Boromir smiled, "I swore to follow him."
Legolas laughed and then pulled the Evenstar necklace out of his tunic. "I found this, I knew you would be missing it."
As Aragorn murmured his thanks, he felt guilt wash through him. He had not missed the jewel at all. He had never thought about it as Boromir had planted kisses over the part of his chest where it usually hung. He looked at his lover who had a confused look on his face.
"I forgot about that," Boromir whispered.
"Come with me," Aragorn said as he pulled Boromir into a deserted hallway.
"Who is she?"
"Elrond's daughter, Arwen. But she left for the Undying Lands. I told her that I did not want her to sacrifice her immortality for me."
"And did she respect the decision you made for her, oh my King?"
Aragorn glared at him, "I thought it was for the best!"
"Please don't make any decisions on my behalf, I beg you, my King!" Boromir snapped.
"You are the most pig-headed, arrogant ... !" Aragorn growled. He whirled and stomped away. "I am going to check our defenses."
Boromir went after him. "Forgive me, Aragorn. I was speaking out of jealousy."
Aragorn stopped and rubbed his head, "Do not be jealous, Boromir, she is gone. She will always have a place in my heart, but you are now there, too." Aragorn reached to hold his lover and they stood, taking strength from the embrace.
Finally, Aragorn stirred, "Come, we must find Legolas, and see to the battle."
As they walked through the halls, and saw the extent of their ragtag army, Aragorn's face grew grimmer. Finally, they found Legolas sharpening his knives. The elf escorted them to the King. Aragorn and Boromir reported the sighting of Saruman's army, and then left with Legolas to locate Gimli.
"Have you seen our army?" the Elf demanded, "they are all either too old or too young. From what you tell us of Saruman's forces, they will be slaughtered."
"Then I will die with them," Aragorn retorted. Boromir was about to intervene when they all heard a strange horn call and Legolas' face lit up with joy.
"Help has come!" he exclaimed and ran for the gate. The two Men followed quickly and stood stunned at the sight that greeted them. There was a whole company of Lothlórien elves, led by the supercilious Marchwarden, Haldir.
"My Lady sends her greetings, Aragorn, son of Arathorn," the proud Elf bowed to Aragorn, "she has decided that aid is necessary here."
"And we give her many thanks," the Ranger replied, "Aid is desperately needed. Come, I will show you to the stronghold and we will order our defenses. You must also meet the King of the Riddermark."
Darkness was falling as Aragorn and his companions stood on the wall, awaiting Saruman's forces. Thunder rumbled in the sky and was echoed by the distant roar of the approaching army. Aragorn was seized by a sudden impulse, and grabbing Boromir, pulled the blonde man after him back in to the fort. Boromir protested, but the Ranger ignored him as the darker man quickly found an empty storeroom among the maze of passages. Aragorn shoved the door shut, and never losing his hold his lover, slammed the warrior against the wall.
Boromir was finally able to look into Aragorn's eyes and what he saw made him smile. "Oh, I see. Pre-battle lust."
But he was unable to continue as Aragorn's mouth crashed down on his. The Ranger's hand went swiftly to the ties of Boromir's leggings, freeing the erection that had responded instantly to Aragorn's need. Aragorn broke the kiss and stared at Boromir for a long moment. And then Isildur's Heir was on his knees to the Steward's son, and Boromir could not help but cry out as his King's mouth engulfed him. Afterwards, Aragorn stood up, licking his lips contentedly. He guided Boromir's hand to his own erection, and with their hands linked, they brought Aragorn to his own completion.
The lovers quickly readjusted their clothes, and prepared to return to the battle. But Boromir pulled Aragorn to him. "They can do without us for a few more seconds," he said as brought his lips to the Ranger's for a long, tender kiss. "Better. I love you. Let's go kill some Orcs."
As they exited the castle, the threatened rain finally began to fall. The wind picked up, blowing sheets of water in every direction. The two Men were quickly soaked. "Well, this gets better and better," Boromir said with amusement in his voice.
Aragorn remembered how Boromir had faced the cave troll, and felt something in his heart swell with joy at this lover's words. He remembered Denethor and he wondered how the grim Steward had managed to rear a son who was so full of light. The Ranger thought that the one thing Denethor had done right in his twisted life was to raise such a son. Aragorn still did not understand what he felt for the warrior of Gondor, did not know if he loved him. His feelings for Boromir were not the same as his feelings for Arwen, but nevertheless, something was there. Despite the warrior's recent anguish, Aragorn saw that Boromir was light to complement his darkness, Boromir was humor in the face of his sternness.
They rejoined Legolas and Gimli on the wall. The Elf and the Dwarf turned towards the Men and burst out laughing. Aragorn and Boromir looked at each other in puzzlement, and Aragorn realized that even though Boromir was soaking wet, he still had an air of satiation about him. And Boromir realized that, with his shorter stature, Gimli could clearly see the love marks he had left under Aragorn's jaw the night before. Both Men blushed, but could not hide the grins on their faces. "Well, lads, that must have been very urgent business that pulled you away so close to the battle," Gimli teased. Legolas merely rolled his eyes at the Dwarf.
Saruman's army arrived minutes later and the fight was quickly joined. As Aragorn dodged and spun, his sword a blur that was never still, he reflected on the security he felt, as though no Orc could ever touch him. He knew that confidence was directly related to the man beside him. For everywhere that the battle took him, Boromir was there at his side or at his back. The two Men had fought together so many times over the past months, that they each could read the other's movements and know, without thinking about it, how best to help the other. He looked at the blonde man, saw the light of battle in his eyes and the savage glee with which he dispatched the Orcs, and Aragorn was content. Boromir was everything Aragorn had ever wanted in a companion, fierce warrior and loving friend.
As the night wore on, the defenders were on the edge of exhaustion. Boromir's shoulder, which had not been truly tested since it was wounded, was throbbing with a dull ache every time he moved his shield. Aragorn's hair was drenched with sweat and hung in strings around his face. Gimli had long since ceased shouting his kills out to Legolas. Even though the fair Elf was still in good shape, his eyes were tight with grief and fatigue. Losing Haldir had cost him dearly.
The four who were the remnants of the Fellowship stood on the wall, trying to gain strength for one more sortie against the Orcs. Aragorn was struggling to catch his breath, when he saw a change in the darkness. It was not quite dawn, but a light seemed to be growing at the head of the valley. He suddenly remembered Gandalf's words, and raising his head, urged his companions to one last effort. Aragorn lofted his sword and his friends and some of the Riders followed him over the wall and into the front ranks of the Orcs. The light grew stronger and Aragorn knew his hope was not false. At that moment, Gandalf came back. And he had with him Éomer and all the Riders of the Third Éored, one thousand men strong.
The tide of battle quickly turned against the Orcs, who quailed at the awful brilliance emanating from Gandalf. The creatures of the shadow were caught between the hammer of Éomer's Riders and the anvil of the defenders of Helm's Deep. None lived to tell the tale.
Reunion
Small bands of Riders were finishing off the last of the Orcs, when Aragorn brought Gandalf into the fortress to see King Théoden.
"My new counselor has returned, and brought me a gift I had grievously missed." The King turned to Éomer, clasping his forearm in greeting, "Welcome back, sister-son. I am pained at my treatment of you, but please believe I did not know what I was doing. The Grey Pilgrim has cured me, as you see." The King embraced the man who was his nephew and heir.
"Now I have other tasks for you, Théoden King," Gandalf said. "We ride to Isengard."
"But Gandalf, my people have barely survived this night's work. They do not have the strength to assail Saruman."
"We go to parley, not to battle. Come, bring only a small escort. Leave someone in charge of your people and come."
So Éowyn was found and placed in charge of the refugees once again. King Théoden set out for Isengard with twenty of the Riders in his personal guard. With him went Éomer and the remains of the Fellowship. Aragorn was worried about Boromir, for he had retreated under the hood of his Elvish cloak again. As the day wore on, his unease increased, until finally, Aragorn pulled his horse close to the warrior's to inquire as to his distress. "What is it, my brother? Why are you hiding?"
Boromir turned to him and the Ranger could see that the green eyes were troubled. Boromir finally replied, "I have such anger in my heart towards Saruman, I can scarce breathe. He is responsible for so much suffering that I have felt personally these last few days. Indeed I hold him to higher crimes now than I do the Dark Lord. Saruman has injured me and those I love, and I fear I am beyond reason when it comes to him. Do not let me do anything foolish, please, Aragorn." The Ranger nodded and silently gripped his lover's hand in comfort.
The long miles passed quickly and peacefully and the next morning they saw the walls of Isengard come into view. The place was eerily quiet, the only sound to be heard was the bubbling and hissing of water. As they drew closer, the company could see that the once proud gates had been thrown down. The Riders murmured in wonderment, and could not imagine what force had wrought such destruction.
As the King's party rode up to the ruined gate of Isengard, they saw two small figures lying amidst the rubble beside the entrance. The larger of the two stood up and bowed. "Greetings, your Majesty, Riders of Rohan," he said to King Théoden and Éomer, ignoring Gandalf and his friends. "Isengard has fallen into different hands and we have been instructed by the new management to see to your comfort. I am Meriadoc, son of Saradoc, how may I serve you?"
The Rohirrim looked with amazement at the strange pair. Finally the King stirred and acknowledged the welcome. "Who is your sleeping counterpart, that he does not also offer greetings?"
"He is Peregrin, son of Paladin, and he is weary from our labors this morning."
"And what of your companions?" Gimli shouted as he jumped off the horse he shared with Legolas. "What about those of us who have gone through fire and battle and run hundreds of leagues, only to find you taking your ease on the edge of ruin?"
Pippin sat up and rubbed his eyes, "Greetings to you also, Master Dwarf. And to Strider and Legolas." Here he faltered a bit, still looking at the Riders. "We were told that there was one other, one we thought lost ... " he trailed off.
"I am here, little one," said Boromir, pushing his hood back. He swung off his horse as Merry and Pippin hurled themselves into his arms. The warrior tried to keep his footing, but he soon went down under the weight of the determined Hobbits, who did not seem to believe he was real without touching him for themselves. Boromir was briefly lost under a pile of furry legs.
"Oh, Boromir, we are so sorry. Please forgive us," they repeated over and over as they wrapped their small arms around their beloved friend.
Boromir eventually untangled himself, and still sitting on the ground, tried to get control of the situation. He ignored the fact that he was sprawled in the dirt like a child, under the amused gazes of his lover, the King of Rohan, twenty Riders, the wizard, the Dwarf and the Elf.
"There is nothing to forgive, my friends. Indeed, I must beg your pardon myself, for I allowed you to be captured."
"We are sorry that we could not aid you, that we abandoned you to fight all those Orcs by yourself," Merry explained.
"We did not see how you could prevail, when we saw the arrow hit you, and we grieved for your death," Pippin added. "We thought a hundred Orcs would be too much even for Boromir the Brave. We underestimated you and we are sorry."
Boromir raised his head and exchanged a smile with Aragorn, "Well, I did have some help. Aragorn finished them off for me."
Gandalf laughed his warm rich laugh, "I will take the King to consult with Isengard's new master, while you finish your reunion." He and the Riders turned and headed toward the distant tower of Orthanc.
Aragorn and Legolas joined the rest of the Fellowship on the ground. Pippin and Merry provided more food and drink, and the companions entertained each other with tales of their deeds since their parting.
Boromir suddenly remembered the leaf brooch that Aragorn had entrusted to him. He fished the Elvish pin out of his pack and gave it back to Pippin. "Aragorn found it when he followed your tracks. He gave it to me for safekeeping on the hope that we would see you to return it to you. It has comforted me."
Pippin hugged the Man once again, "I am so glad to see it again!"
The friends rested easily for a time, then Aragorn stirred. "We must find Gandalf for he means to confront Saruman, and we should be present."
The others got up reluctantly and followed Aragorn to the north in the direction that the wizard had led King Théoden and his Riders. The circle of Isengard was a wasteland of twisted metal half-buried in greenish mud from the diverted river. As they picked their way to the Tower of Orthanc, the stench of overheated metal and burned filth increased.
"I hope Saruman is enjoying the results of what he has wrought," Gimli muttered in disgust.
"He sought to flatter by pale imitation," the Ranger said, "but he cannot approach the horror that his master, the Dark Lord, has worked in Mordor."
They met Gandalf and the Rohirrim near the doors to the Tower. The wizard introduced them to Isengard's new master, Treebeard. The Riders looked unnerved to be meeting a talking tree, but Legolas was delighted and Boromir barely turned a hair at yet one more oddity in the extended escapade that his life had become since he first came to Rivendell.
Confrontation
Gandalf issued instructions before they challenged the traitorous wizard. "He will seek to snare you with his voice. His power remains, so do not let him provoke you." Gandalf approached the doors, followed by Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, the King and Éomer. The Hobbits trailed after them cautiously. Boromir pulled the hood of his Elven cloak up again, and stayed back with the rest of the Riders. He did not trust himself to hold on to his temper when confronted with the wizard who had betrayed them all and nearly gotten him killed.
When they finally heard Saruman, his voice was low and melodious, bringing enchantment with it. At first, all the listeners were swayed into agreement with the evil wizard. Boromir found himself trying to remember why he was angry with the owner of the gentle voice. But Gimli and Théoden were able to resist, and soon Saruman lost control of all those present and he resorted to threats.
Then Saruman's voice turned oily with sly insinuation, "And I see the Son of the Steward of Gondor is here to pay his respects as well. Do you cower in your cloak to hide your shame from the eyes of men?" The smooth voice became even more suggestive. "Does your father know how you ... serve ... Isildur's Heir?" Boromir tried to ignore the malicious voice as it continued, "Does this weakling pretender king force you to your knees to ... receive ... his blessings?" The listening Riders had no doubt to what Saruman was referring and they watched as the warrior of Gondor struggled to maintain control. Boromir felt a red haze of anger sweeping through his brain, and he was on the verge of stepping forward to challenge the evil wizard.
"Enough!" The roar of Gandalf's voice broke the spell woven by Saruman's words. Boromir breathed his relief, as Gandalf went on, "You have been given a chance to repent and aid the Light. You have rejected our mercy and so shall be cast down." Gandalf lifted his staff and Saruman's staff was broken in two, and the pieces flew off into the distance. "You are disgraced, now begone!" Gandalf gestured with his staff and Saruman jerked back inside the tower.
As Gandalf turned away to descend the steps, a small ball came hurtling down from above. It rolled away until Pippin caught it and picked it up. He saw a strange glow deep in the depths of the orb. Gandalf was startled when he saw what the Hobbit was holding. "Here, my lad, put that in this cloth. Those are dangerous."
The company mounted again, with Pippin on the horse with Boromir, and Merry sharing Aragorn's horse. Théoden was returning to Edoras to oversee the muster of Rohan, for he intended for fulfill the Oath of Éorl and ride to the aid of Minas Tirith. The small party made for the fords of the Isen, reaching the river as darkness fell.
The band was setting up camp, when they heard the sound of hoofbeats approaching quickly from the north. The Riders swiftly surrounded Théoden, afraid that they would be forced to defend their King with only a meager force. As the unknown riders neared, the two figures in the lead stopped their horses and dismounted. They came forward with their hands out in a gesture of peace.
"We seek Aragorn, son of Arathorn," one of them said.
"Why, they're Elves!" Pippin exclaimed.
Aragorn gave a shout of joy and swept both Elves into his embrace. "You have found him! These are my foster brothers," he said happily, "Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Elrond."
"Our father has sent the Dúnedain to your side, Estel. Word came that Isildur's Heir had need of his kinsman in Rohan," Elladan explained.
"Indeed, my thoughts have turned to you many times over the past weeks."
The twin Elves turned to their horses and removed two long, cloth-wrapped bundles. Elrohir presented his gift to the Ranger, "My father sends this to you and says, 'Remember the words of the Seer and forget not the Paths of the Dead.' " The Elf pulled off the cloth to reveal a magnificent sword.
"Narsil!" Boromir and Aragorn recognized the sword at the same time.
Elrohir bowed his head and, laying the sword over his forearm, presented the hilt to Aragorn. "My father had it reforged. It is time for the Sword-that-was-broken to go to war once again."
Aragorn reached out slowly and grasped the hilt. He swung Narsil into the air and the last light of the setting Sun lit the blade and seemed to turn it into liquid gold. The onlookers gasped in shock as the light from the sword fell upon Aragorn's face. The scruffy Ranger had disappeared and the Man standing before them was both noble and fair. Power emanated from his eyes and as one the company sank to their knees and bowed their heads to the revealed King of Men.
Aragorn stood for a moment looking at the beautiful sword in his hands, and then said, "Rise, my friends, I am not crowned yet."
The group stirred uneasily and got to their feet. Elladan came forward with his gift. "My sister sends this and says that she has made it long in secret and that you should use it when your hour comes."
Aragorn nodded, "I know what it is and I would ask you to bear it for me a while longer."
The Rohirrim relaxed and resumed the task of settling in for the night. Boromir was still shaking from the vision of Aragorn's royalty revealed. Why did the Valar not strike me down where I stood for daring to touch him? Boromir moved his bedroll far from where Aragorn was preparing for sleep. It hurt his heart to not sleep near his lover, but his insecurities had come back with his recognition of the lineage of the man that he had treated so badly when they met.
Aragorn noticed that Boromir was preparing to sleep some distance from him on the other side of the camp and walked over to ask why. Boromir's face was pale and his hands were trembling as he got out his blankets. Aragorn had not seen him so distressed since the day he had tried to take the Ring from Frodo.
"What is it, love? Why do you not sleep beside me?" he asked softly.
Boromir's eyes would not meet his, until Aragorn finally grabbed his chin and turned the warrior to him. The Ranger cursed under his breath, for Boromir's eyes were once again filled with self-loathing. Boromir closed his eyes as tears leaked out.
Boromir shuddered, "I thought ... ." He swallowed and tried again, "I thought you would not want Arwen's brothers to know of our relationship."
"I don't believe you," Aragorn stated flatly. "I do not believe that is the real reason, but I will tell you, I am not ashamed of you. Arwen is gone, you are here, and I do not care who knows it! Now, tell me the truth!"
Boromir wrenched his chin out of Aragorn's grasp and sank to his knees, "Forgive me, my Lord."
Aragorn knelt beside his lover, and gently stroked his golden hair, "Don't call me that, I am still the same man you have been loving and fighting with since we met. And you have done nothing wrong."
"But I did not understand, I did not see. I dismissed your claims and laughed at your heritage. I was too proud to see the truth."
"You knew this, you have known it since Rivendell. You knew it when you pledged your allegiance to me," Aragorn was puzzled.
"To know something with one's head is one thing, but to know it with one's heart is something else, entirely. What I saw when I vowed to follow you was that you where a fighter and a leader and a good man and true. I did not see the truth of your royalty."
"How could you see it, when I did not even see it, when I did not want to acknowledge my own blood?"
"But you have claimed the Sword of Kings, you have sworn to defend our people! Your line is the most noble in Middle Earth! Your lineage stretches back to the beginning of history, and I am nothing."
"No," Aragorn enfolded the miserable warrior in his arms, "your blood goes back just as far. Not as kings, but your forebears were nobility of Westernesse and before that they were of the Edain of the First Age. But none of that matters, it is you I want, not your bloodline!" Aragorn kissed Boromir with all his desperation to make the other man understand his feelings. He finally released the younger man only when they both were dizzy from lack of air.
"Stay here," Aragorn instructed, "I am going to get my blankets. I will sleep beside you or no where else." Boromir nodded tiredly and lay down. When Aragorn returned, he pulled the warrior close, twining their legs together. They drifted off to sleep as the rest of the camp settled down.
Pippin was restless and squirmy and could not get comfortable. All around him was nothing but the sound of peaceful breathing as the soldiers in the camp slept. He sat up to see where Gandalf was, noting with bemusement that Boromir and Aragorn slept as tangled together as he and Merry did. He finally located the wizard and gulped when he saw the round bundle under his arm. Pippin crept over and gently removed the globe. He slunk away and opened the package that he had stolen. He stared down at the orb and saw the shifting red light far in its depths. He gave a piercing shriek and fell over in a swoon.
The entire camp was roused by Pippin's shout, but they quailed in fear as his cry was echoed by a thin wailing from the air, which struck terror into the hearts of the listeners.
"A Nazgûl, in the air," Legolas exclaimed.
Boromir picked up Pippin and examined him for signs of injury. When the Hobbit finally stirred, the warrior asked, "What is that thing, Gandalf?"
"Seven stars, and seven stones, and one white tree," Gandalf muttered under his breath. "It is a Palantír, one of the Seeing Stones of Númenor." Boromir gave a start of recognition at the name. "It is how Sauron was able to control Isengard. I am fairly certain that Sauron has the Ithil-stone, for the Ringwraiths conquered that Minas Ithil many years ago." The wizard turned to Théoden, "Ride for your halls, we dare not wait for morning. The Nazgûl have taken to the air and crossed the river. Time grows late. I will take this Hobbit to keep him out of mischief and we will ride to Minas Tirith tonight. Merry will stay with you, by your leave." Théoden nodded in agreement.
Gandalf picked up the stone, and once again knelt in front of Aragorn, offering him the Palantír. "Take this, lord, in earnest of other things, which will soon be returned to you."
Aragorn frowned and slowly reached for the stone. "Do not kneel to me, you of all people, Mithrandir."
Gandalf rose and turned to the King of Rohan, "Where will you go first?"
"We must ride back to Helm's Deep to collect my Riders, and then on to Edoras to call the Muster," Théoden stated.
"Leave as quickly as you can then," Gandalf instructed as he boosted Pippin onto Shadowfax. "We will look for you in the White City, as soon as may be."
"Pack up the camp!" Éomer ordered the Riders. He looked at Aragorn, "What will you do?"
"I will ride with King Théoden, for I must take counsel." The Ranger turned to his companions, "Boromir, Gimli, Legolas, will you follow me still? My heart forebodes that our road will be dark ere we see the White City."
"Always," Boromir averred.
"Wherever you lead," Legolas agreed.
"He is my ride," Gimli's eyes were twinkling as he gestured to the Elf, "So I suppose I have no choice."
The Riders quickly packed the camp and it was not yet midnight before the party was on the road to Helm's Deep. They drove their horses mercilessly and reached the stronghold just after dawn.
When they dismounted and the tired horses were led away, Aragorn asked that Boromir and the sons of Elrond accompany him into the fortress.
Aragorn led his three companions to the highest room in the keep. There was a small round table in the middle of the room, where the Ranger placed a cloth-wrapped bundle. He pulled the cloth off to reveal the Palantír from Orthanc. "Now is the time to take the battle to Sauron, instead of acting defensively every time. I have need to know what goes on with the war in other places."
"Surely you do not mean to look in the stone?" Boromir was aghast, "Look what it did to Pippin who has no malice in him."
"This stone is an heirloom of my house, I have the right," Aragorn replied.
Boromir looked at the sons of Elrond for support, but the identical faces were both inscrutable. "Aragorn?" Boromir pleaded.
"What would you have me do? I cannot sail beyond the sunset to the western stars as Eärendil did, to ask the Valar for help. Though Elendil's line is diminished, made weak by time and fate, much abides still. I do not have the strength of the old days, but what I do have is the will to strive and to seek, and I will not yield."
Boromir exhaled slowly, then nodded his acquiescence. "How can I help?"
Aragorn smiled and brought a hand up to caress the laugh lines around green eyes, "Just lend me your strength by your presence, but you must not touch me, no matter what happens. I would not have Sauron forge a link with you."
Aragorn took a deep breath, and then laid his hands on the stone. Immediately, a dull red light could be seen deep in the globe. Boromir had a momentary vision of the fiery eye he had seen in his dreams when the Ring still tormented him. Aragorn closed his eyes and his face became even more stern than was usual. Boromir sensed the battle between two forces occurring in the room, as it seemed that a gust of foul air swept into the chamber. Aragorn's face clenched and beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. Boromir made an involuntary movement towards his lover, but one of the Elves, he thought it was Elrohir, said softly, "Hold," and Boromir, remembering Aragorn's instructions, stopped his hand. The warrior tried to send thoughts of love and strength to the struggling Ranger, but the pain on Aragorn's face was hurting his soul. The battle stretched on interminably, and Boromir began to feel that he had been locked in that room for years, when suddenly the oppressive sense of evil, which had been swirling through the place, disappeared.
Aragorn's face eased but he kept his hands on the stone and his eyes closed. The reddish glow in the Palantír changed and the watchers saw many different colors spiraling through the globe. Finally, Aragorn released it and opened his eyes. Boromir gasped for the other man looked grey with exhaustion and his eyes were horrified.
"What did you see?" he demanded.
"Minas Tirith will fall within days if we do not bring aid."
"How?" Boromir was shocked.
"A great fleet of the Corsairs of Umbar is preparing to sail up the Anduin. They will draw off any aid that might come to Minas Tirith from the south." Aragorn had an odd look on this face that Boromir did not like.
"What did he learn from you?" he asked softly.
"I let him see who I truly am, he knows I am descended from Elendil through Isildur. And I let him see that Narsil had been reforged. He did not know that I lived, it will sting his pride if nothing else."
"What else?" Boromir growled, mentally cursing the Ranger's reticence.
"If it was ill done, we will all pay dearly, but I let him see the Ring as it lay on the table at the Council of Elrond. And I let him think that I have it."
Boromir felt his irritation with Aragorn turn to sheer terror. "Why, by all the powers of heaven and hell, would you do a thing like that?" he shouted. "He will come after you with all the deadly power he possesses, every Orc in Mordor will be on his way here. We will have all nine Nazgûl sitting on our doorstep by morning!" Boromir began pacing around the room in agitation.
Aragorn grabbed the warrior's arms and looked into his eyes, "Exactly."
Boromir felt his eyes fill with tears as he stared at the man he loved so completely. "No," he whispered.
Aragorn gave him a small shake, "Yes, it is the only way."
"You are taking a horrible risk, not just to yourself, but to all the people of Gondor that stand between you and Mordor."
"I know, but it is Frodo's only hope. And I will see to it that I am easy to find, so that Sauron does not destroy all of Gondor looking for me." Aragorn rewrapped the Palantír and prepared to go, "We must find the King and take our leave."
Captain
Aragorn instructed the Dúnedain to prepare for departure, while he and Boromir went to find the King of Rohan and the Third Marshall. Théoden was deep in conference with the leaders of the Riders regarding troop strength and location. Éowyn sat nearby listening quietly.
"My Lord, I fear our paths must separate here," Aragorn informed the King.
"But we had counted on your strength to aid us. I have received word that the Dark Lord's army is advancing on Minas Tirith. The city will soon be besieged."
"I will ride to aid the White City, but my course leads another way. I will guide the Dúnedain to Harrowdale, where we will chance the Paths of the Dead. We leave at once."
Éomer sighed heavily, "I had hoped to draw swords with you and fight the powers of darkness together. But if you take that road, I fear I will never see you again in life."
Aragorn grasped Éomer's shoulders, "And I say to you this: though all the forces of Mordor stand between us, you and I will meet again. Farewell, good King. Ride hard." Aragorn turned and went out to his horse. He mounted quickly and the rest of the Rangers prepared to travel.
Boromir embraced Merry, "Keep heart, young Hobbit, I hope to see you again. Remember your sword lessons and how you defeated a man of Gondor."
Merry sniffled and wiped his eyes, "I am the last one left." Boromir hugged him once again and then got on his horse. Aragorn's party thundered out of the valley on the road to Dunharrow.
When they reached the trail into the mountains the pace slowed, for the path was narrow and twisted. Boromir pulled his horse beside Aragorn's to question him about their route.
"I had not noticed that either Théoden or Éomer are particularly cowardly men," Boromir remarked.
Aragorn raised a brow in query, "No, I had not observed that either."
"And yet, when you mentioned the Paths of the Dead, they both blanched as if you had proclaimed that you planned to assault Barad-dûr on your own. Where are you taking us?"
"Does it matter?"
"No, you know I will follow you. But I would like some warning if you are planning to lead me off another cliff."
Aragorn smiled at the memory. "There is a prophecy out of the North that Isildur's Heir may travel the Paths of the Dead when great need drives him. The road is barred to all others and will lead them to nothing but their deaths."
Boromir grimaced, "Is that how this route got its charming name?"
"Partly," the Ranger shrugged.
"Do I have to guess or will you please elaborate?" The warrior reflected that his lover was really the most annoying man in Middle-Earth.
Aragorn looked at Boromir with amusement. "The Dead are men who swore an oath of loyalty to Isildur, but then recanted for they had worshipped Sauron during the Black Years. Isildur cursed them that they would find no peace until they were summoned to fulfill their oaths. Even though death should claim them, they would not be released. As Isildur's Heir, I am given the right to call them to my aid."
"So, even the Dead will follow you and do your bidding. Not a mere Ranger at all."
The Grey Company came at last to a sheer wall of rock at the end of a small blind valley. A large shadowy opening was cut into the face of the mountain, and the Dark Door was full of a blackness deeper than night. The horses balked at passing through that door, until their riders dismounted to lead them. Only Aragorn and the Elves seemed immune to the fear produced by that dread door. Boromir passed into the opening and felt fear grab hold of him like a shaft of ice in his spine that caused his balls to clench and sweat break out on his forehead. The warrior used all of his stubbornness and pride to force one foot in front of the other. He stared determinedly at Aragorn, letting the bright fire of his lover's spirit pull him forward.
The path went on and on. Boromir felt his sanity begin to fray as the oppressive sense of the ghosts of men surrounded them. He started to see things out of the corners of his eyes, but when he turned, he could see nothing. The warrior started walking faster, until he was beside the Ranger. Aragorn turned and smiled at him, and Boromir felt a small beam of light pierce the blackness that was overtaking his mind.
"Keep courage, love, we are almost through," Aragorn clasped Boromir's hand.
At length the fearful journey was finished and the Grey Company exited the other side of the mountains. They mounted the horses and rode like the wind out of the valley. They reached the Stone of Erech at midnight and Aragorn summoned the oath breakers to cleanse the land of the servants of Sauron and thus at last fulfill their oaths.
Boromir was riding beside Aragorn, when he heard Legolas say, "The Dead are following. I see pale shapes and tattered banners." Boromir refused to look.
"Yes, the Dead are behind," said Elladan, "they have been summoned."
Then the Grey Company began their great race against time across the whole of southern Gondor. They routed bands of Orcs wherever they found them, and even the minions of Sauron could not stand forth against the stern Dúnedain and the forces of the Dead. Aragorn drove the troop relentlessly, allowing them just three hours of sleep at night.
Boromir was trembling with exhaustion after he was roused once again from inadequate sleep. "Let us take a break, for pity's sake," he begged Aragorn. "Give us a whole night's sleep. We are going to kill the horses, and even the Dead are tired."
"We can't. We must beat the Corsairs to those ships," Aragorn glared at the younger man. "Nearly everything we love will be at that city in a few days time. The Witch King himself is leading Sauron's forces. We have to be there when Théoden brings his Riders. Pippin and Gandalf are already there, as well as Faramir and your father. And I know Merry is not going to stay quietly in Rohan when his dear friend is in danger. We must be at hand and time is running out!"
"Alright!" Boromir threw his hand up.
"So much for your oath of allegiance! You bicker with me constantly!"
"I swore that I would never leave you, I did not swear not to argue with you." Boromir said stiffly.
The Ranger felt his anger dissipate swiftly. "Are you going to argue with me for the rest of our lives?" he asked lightly.
"Probably."
Boromir's voice was still sullen, but Aragorn saw the beginnings of a twinkle in his green eyes. He laughed then and pulled the blond into his arms, capturing bearded lips in a deep kiss. When they both were gasping for air, Aragorn stared deep into his lover's eyes, "I hope you never stop."
They continued to harass and drive out any bands of Orcs they found, even when the darkness welled out of Mordor and the Sun could no longer be seen. In each town they entered, Aragorn ordered the Dúnedain to cry out, "To arms, to arms! Gondor calls you to arms!" Those Gondorians who had horses joined the Grey Company, while those that did not were told to march to Minas Tirith with as much speed as they could make.
At last they reached Pelargir where the main fleet of Umbar was anchored. Aragorn allowed the Dead to pass him and the ancient warriors drove Gondor's enemies from the ships, for none could withstand the Dead. One Dúnedain was placed in commanded of each vessel. They released the captives and those that were strong enough manned the oars as free men. Aragorn found men from Pelargir who knew the river to captain each ship. He insisted that they cast off as soon as the boats could be readied. The sun was setting when he boarded the largest with Boromir, Gimli and Legolas.
Boromir sighed wearily as he climbed into the captain's bunk of the lead ship of the Corsairs. Aragorn smiled at him as he went about the business of securing his gear for the night.
"You do not even own the bed that I crawl into at night, but still I follow you, sometimes I forget why," Boromir pondered.
Aragorn turned with a wicked glint in his eye, "Perhaps I should remind you." He walked towards Boromir with a silent and dangerous tread. The younger man suddenly recalled that his lover was the greatest hunter in the North, for he felt like a cornered beast. Aragorn grasped him by his chin and assaulted his mouth with lips and tongue. Desire jolted through Boromir and his breeches became tight instantly in response to Aragorn's ardor. He still felt like a beast to be tamed to the Ranger's hand and he decided to follow through with the feeling.
"Please," he gasped when Aragorn finally broke off the kiss, "take me."
Aragorn looked surprised at the request, as Boromir had never yielded to him in this way before.
"I need this, I need you to do this," Boromir winced at the begging tone of his voice.
"Shh, of course I will, I will give you whatever you want. Have you ever...?"
"No," Boromir gave a wuff of laughter, "pride and arrogance, you know, doesn't lead to much submission."
"Are you sure?"
"More than anything, do it."
Boromir saw a fire seething behind Aragorn's eyes and wondered if he had done the right thing, but then he was unable to think anymore because the Ranger was claiming him with lips and hands, and not much later with manhood. Aragorn was not gentle and the initial pain was intense, but the discomfort soon gave way to mind expanding pleasure, and Boromir was battered through updrafts of sensation. He felt as though he had been thrown out of his own body and that the cleansing fire of Aragorn's love had shattered his spirit and remade it into something stronger.
As he drifted back to himself, the warrior realized that the ship had started moving upriver and he was finally going back to Minas Tirith. He could not think of the White City as home anymore, because he had found his true home and that was wherever Aragorn was.
Boromir rolled over and smiled at Aragorn, "We are moving."
"Yes, we must reach Minas Tirith tomorrow or all will be lost. Sleep now, tomorrow we fight."
The warrior slid into sleep quickly, for the long, hard ride had exhausted him. Aragorn stayed awake for a while staring at his sleeping lover. The next morning Isildur's Heir would do battle for the chief city and the heart of Gondor. It had been many years since the Ranger had served Ecthelion and he did not doubt that few still lived who remembered him. As he only vaguely remembered those that he had known from that time. The only person from the southern kingdom he could claim to be familiar with was Boromir. The Ranger had come to respect the warrior during their time together and he knew that the one overriding aspect of Boromir's personality, which had driven all of the Man's actions, was loyalty. It had caused him to try to take the Ring, for the sake of Gondor. And for the sake of his friendship with Merry and Pippin, it had caused him to tackle an army of Orcs on his own. It had even driven the warrior to take a blind leap off of a cliff for his love of Aragorn himself. Such loyalty must be requited. Aragorn would save Gondor, not because he was heir to its throne or because it was the last remnant of Númenor in Middle-Earth. He would save it for Boromir; to repay him for his unswerving loyalty to the people he cared about, for the warrior's faith in Aragorn. Because, for the man who would claim the throne, Boromir was Gondor.
Aragorn gently stroked blond hair away from the peacefully sleeping face next to him and tenderly placed a kiss on his brow. "I will save the things you love," he whispered, "I swear this by my name!"
Boromir awoke early the next morning to the pale light of dawn. The winds had picked up and they appeared to be blowing away the darkness that Sauron had sent out of Mordor. He dressed and went up on deck.
The ship cut smoothly through the water, a white froth boiling up from the prow, as the winds seemed to respond to Aragorn's need to reach Minas Tirith that day. Boromir stood at the bowsprit, his golden hair whipping about his head, as he strained to see past the mist on the Anduin, strained to see into the heart of the city ahead. I am coming back, Faramir, hold on! Aragorn had received reports from the leaders of the small cities along the river that the White City was under siege, and Boromir could only hope that his brother was well. There had been no news about the Steward or the Captain of the Ithilien Rangers.
Two tan hands appeared on either side of his own at the rail and bearded lips nuzzled his ear. Boromir pressed back against the firm body and turned his head as the wind tangled dark brown hair with his lighter mane. He met Aragorn's lips with his.
"What are you thinking?" Aragorn asked, burrowing his face into Boromir's neck.
"I am hoping that my brother is alright."
The ship drew ever closer to the White City and the two men could soon see a large column of smoke rising up in the distance. Boromir felt dread creep through his veins.
"Minas Tirith is burning," Aragorn muttered, before turning away to give further commands to the captain. "Send word to the other ships. We must be ready to fight as soon as we land."
The vessel rounded the last bend in the river and the Harlond was visible ahead. The warriors on the ship crowded to the gangway, with their weapons unsheathed. Boromir stood with Aragorn at the prow. "Unfurl the standard," the Ranger ordered.
And Elladan released the bindings on the package he had carried all the way from Rivendell, which Arwen had made for her love. The men on the ship cheered as the coverings fell away and the banner caught the wind. There displayed for all to see was the White Tree, for Gondor, and Seven Stars and a crown, and they were for Elendil. Boromir felt his heart swell with pride to be fighting beside the man who claimed those devices.
Thus, on that bright sunny day, Aragorn and his companions, and Éomer, the new King of the Mark, along with his sister, Éowyn, and the Halfling, Merry, did such deeds of valor and renown on that battlefield, that they were remembered as long as the kingdom of Gondor endured.
Night was falling when Aragorn approached the city gates with Boromir and Éomer. The young King was anxious to tend the bodies of his uncle and sister. The Prince of Dol Amroth urged Aragorn to enter the city in triumph and proclaim his royalty. But the Ranger refused.
"But why not, Aragorn?" Éomer protested. "The people are eager to acknowledge the man who delivered them from the forces of Mordor."
Aragorn answered Éomer, "I have not openly declared myself and I wish to talk to the present Steward about these matters. I would not have him resent me from the start."
Boromir nodded, "Yes, you do right. My father is proud and it was he who schooled me in the belief that Gondor no longer needs a King."
Aragorn and Boromir turned away from the gate and went to their tent. But when they arrived, a cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows and confronted Aragorn.
"You do well to have a care for the old Steward's feelings, but things have changed in the City and you are needed." The figure pulled off his hood to reveal Gandalf. "Come, Lord Aragorn, there are three in the Houses of Healing for which time is running out."
Steward
"Gandalf!" Aragorn exclaimed, "You always turn up where we least expect you."
"Make haste," was the wizard's only reply. "I will tell you the news on the way. You too, Boromir, your presence will do much good, I believe."
Aragorn grabbed his pack and hurried after Gandalf. "Who is injured?"
Gandalf sighed deeply, "Two who love you well and one who would, given the chance." He looked at Boromir, who felt apprehension crash through him like lightening. "Faramir took a Southron dart and has been in a fever ever since. The others are Merry and Éowyn."
"Where is my father?" Boromir demanded.
"That is a hard tale, but I will tell you what I can while we walk."
"Just the essentials for now, if you please."
"Denethor is dead."
Boromir sucked in his breath with pain. "Alright, tell me everything."
Gandalf took up the tale, "Did you know that one of the Palantíri remained in the Tower of the Setting Sun?" At Boromir's nod, the wizard continued, "Denethor dared to look in the Palantír, many times since you departed, I now believe. He was strong, so Sauron could not control him, the Dark Lord could only dictate what he saw. But the Horn of Gondor washed up on the riverbank many days ago. It was split in two and not with you, so he feared the worst. The grief broke his mind and Sauron was able to impose his will on the Steward."
Boromir closed his eyes, as his grief and guilt came flooding back. Aragorn gripped his arm in wordless comfort, but Boromir was oblivious.
The wizard went on, "He believed you dead. Pippin and I tried to tell him differently, but we arrived too late to stop Sauron from controlling him. When Faramir was stricken, your father, in his madness, decided that they both should burn. Pippin was able to save Faramir, but we were too late for Denethor."
"Then I owe to Pippin more than I can possibly repay. What ails Faramir?"
"A poisoned dart and the Black Breath, he fell under the shadow of the Nazgûl while leading the retreat from Osigiliath. Your father treated him abominably, because he was not you and because of other matters on which we will speak later. Here are the Houses, Aragorn, you must heal them."
Aragorn solemnly examined first Faramir, then Éowyn and Merry. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, "What happened to these two?"
Gandalf answered him, "What I can understand from their ravings, and what Éomer's Riders have said, she slew the Witch King and Merry helped her."
"Then she is a Lady more valiant than any on life, and we owe to another Hobbit a debt that can never be paid. But I must to Faramir first; his case is most grave. Come, Boromir." They returned to Faramir's room and Aragorn grasped the injured Captain's hand. "Take his other hand, Boromir, you are bound to me and to him through love. Where I go, you must follow, and help me call him back."
Boromir nodded and tried to block out the fear hammering through him, and think only of the love he bore for both his brother and his King. As he opened his mind to that love, he began to hear Aragorn's call, and added his own voice to the plea for his brother to return. Come back, Faramir, hope is not lost. I have returned to you. Through his connection with Aragorn, he felt when they made contact with Faramir's spirit and he started to heed their entreaties.
Finally, Faramir opened his eyes and stared with love at Aragorn, "You called, I come. What does the King command?"
Aragorn smiled, "I command that you rest and heal, and take joy in one who has returned to you." He nodded to Boromir, and then went to see to Éowyn and Merry.
Faramir turned to the man holding his other hand and his blue eyes filled with tears, "The Halfling said the Ring had driven you mad. I thought you were dead. Pippin said otherwise, but after I was injured, I had cruel dreams of you in a hopeless battle with hundreds of Orcs. I heard your horn blowing in desperation, and then I found it. I did not see how it could wash up on the riverbank if you lived." The young Captain's voice broke and he began sobbing.
Boromir gathered his brother into his arms and made soothing noises while he stroked the red-gold hair. Faramir finally settled and slid into healing sleep. Boromir stayed, his head bowed, rubbing his brother's hand. He was relieved that Faramir would live, but his emotions were in turmoil once again. He grieved for his father and the ruin Sauron had brought on proud Denethor. His guilt was suffocating him. He had delayed coming home, had instead followed Aragorn into battle and the Paths of the Dead. He had tried to take the Ring and had ended up in the skirmish at Amon Hen, cut off from his fellows and thus the Horn of Gondor was taken from him. He had no doubt that some Orc, acting on Saruman's orders, had thrown the Horn into the River Anduin for the very purpose it had achieved. Every choice he had made since he rode to Imladris had proven ill. He should have died at Amon Hen. Tears flowed freely down his face and his shoulders shook. And in this state, Aragorn found him.
Aragorn assessed the situation immediately and grabbing Boromir's arms, hauled him to his feet. "This is not your fault! Your father was certain of his own power. No steward has ever dared the Palantír before! He made his own choices!" Aragorn punctuated his statements while shaking the warrior.
Boromir protested weakly, "But..."
"No, I will not let you go down this path again!" Aragorn shook him, "You bound yourself to me, now heed me! I need you!"
Boromir seized the Ranger's face in his hands and pulled the other man in for a harsh kiss. "Stop talking and by all the Valar, stop shaking me!" Boromir smiled feebly.
Aragorn gave a relieved laugh, and dropped himself and Boromir down on to the couch beside Faramir's bed. The Ranger wrapped his arms around the warrior and drew him in close. The day had been exceptionally long and soon both were sleeping.
Faramir woke briefly much later and stared with sleep-fogged eyes at the slumbering pair. Boromir's face was pressed into the Ranger's neck and one of his legs was thrown over the darker man. Aragorn's hand rested on Boromir's hip and the other hand was tangled in the blond hair. Faramir did not need his Númenórean sight to discern the truth of the relationship between the couple. Boromir's face reflected only peace and delight, and Faramir smiled to realize that his brother had finally found love. Feeling wrapped in absolute security with his beloved brother close by, the Captain drifted back to sleep.
Near dawn, Gandalf came in and roused the Ranger and the warrior. "Come, Aragorn, we must hold council before you meet with your battle captains to plan the final strategy." He led them to an empty sickroom in the Houses. The wizard turned to Boromir, "You must take up the Rod of the Stewardship."
"But the King has returned, surely a steward is not needed?"
But Aragorn answered him, "I cannot be King until the war is won. There are more battles ahead if we are to insure that Frodo wins through. In any case, a King always needs his Steward."
Boromir looked from his lover to the wizard, "I am sorry, my King, Mithrandir, but I cannot be the Steward of Gondor. Faramir will recover, will he not?" At Aragorn's nod, Boromir continued, "Faramir shall be Steward."
"May I ask why you reject the position for which you have been trained your entire life, young Boromir?" Gandalf growled and lowered his eyebrows at the Gondorian.
"Because, like Finrod Felegund, I too have sworn an oath, which I must be free to keep. You have said that the battles are not over, therefore Aragorn must fight. My vow to follow him could come in conflict with my duties as Steward and I will not be foresworn. My gifts are for war, Faramir is a far better choice for Steward."
Gandalf stared at the warrior for a long time, as though assessing him. Finally the wizard nodded, "I believe that you have, once again, chosen wisely." He gathered up his staff and wrapped his robe around himself. "We must plan the final battle."
Boromir interjected, "Wait. I would know what else happened to Faramir. He is used to incurring Denethor's wrath, but this was something else. I felt his spirit, Aragorn, when you were calling him. What extremity of despair drove him to wish for death?"
Gandalf sat back down slowly, "I spoke to him before he went back to try to garrison Osgiliath. He found Frodo and Sam in Ithilien. He captured them, along with Gollum." Boromir and Aragorn both gasped at this news. "Yes, Frodo told Faramir that the creature was his guide. In any case, Faramir was able to piece together the truth of the matter from Gollum's rantings. Your brother ever had a quick mind." Boromir grunted and nodded his agreement.
Gandalf went on, "Faramir decided to bring Frodo and the Ring to your father. He brought them as far as Osgiliath, when a Nazgûl assailed them. Faramir shot its mount to prevent it from capturing Frodo and after Sam convinced him that their errand was critical, he repented and let them go on their way."
"He let them go? I knew he would resist. But our laws say that none may pass through Ithilien without leave, on pain of death!" Boromir protested.
"Yes," Gandalf sighed, "your brother's life was forfeit for his compassion. Denethor also had a very quick mind and he comprehended what it was that Faramir had let slip through his fingers. He turned away from his son and sent him on a mission that the Steward knew would likely kill him. Faramir understood that his own father had sent him to his death."
Boromir covered his eyes as pain for his brother's suffering enveloped him.
"Yes, the Ring worked its evil on Faramir, as well," Gandalf added.
"The Ring?" Boromir gave a bitter laugh. "My brother was your student, but you do not understand him at all. Did he ever lay hand on Frodo or attempt to take the Ring for himself?"
Gandalf frowned, "No, he did not say so."
"It wasn't the Ring that tempted Faramir! It was the hope of finally having approval from our father that tempted him. He would have sacrificed Frodo to have an indication of love from Denethor. The Ring may have planted the idea that he could finally earn Father's respect, but he is too sensible and too knowledgeable of lore and the folly to which pride leads Men."
"Hmm, you could be right. This explains his hopelessness, he knew he had done the right thing, but his father would let him die for it."
Gandalf stood once again and went to gather the Lords of Gondor. Boromir gave Aragorn a long appraising look, until the Ranger finally shifted uncomfortably.
"What?"
"We need to visit the palace armory before you speak to the captains." Boromir guided Aragorn out of the Houses of Healing to the barracks of the Tower Guard.
Doom
"Why are we going to the armory? We have a battle to prepare," Aragorn asked irritably.
"You need to look the part when you speak to the Lords of Gondor," Boromir replied.
"I am not going to claim the Kingship until Sauron is defeated, you know that!"
"First of all, it is a bit late for that, seeing that everyone saw you hoist the signs of Elendil yesterday. Secondly, I am not asking you to dress like a King, but you need to have a better appearance if you are going to be a battle commander."
"I do not understand, what does my clothing have to do with my abilities to fight?"
"Nothing, of course. But you do not understand my people, I do. You are nothing to them but a name and a vague legend out of the North. And while the scruffy Ranger may be enough to command the Dúnedain, and I personally find him charming, it will not satisfy the Lords of Gondor. They know your lineage, and they have seen the statues of Isildur and Anárion in the throne room. They will have certain expectations."
"I am not going to change my whole life just because I am suddenly a King!"
"Of course not, but consider what you are asking of them. If I understand you and Gandalf rightly, you are going to continue the strategy you began with the Palantír. You are going to concentrate all of Sauron's attention on you by directly challenging Mordor, in the hopes that he will overlook Frodo, correct?"
"Yes."
"And you cannot tell all of them what our real strategy is, regarding the Ring, on the chance that word would get back to Barad-dûr?"
"Precisely."
"And you are going to assault Sauron in his stronghold with barely a fraction of the troops that were present in the Last Alliance?"
Aragorn looked uncomfortable, "Yes, that is what chance has left to us."
They reached the armory and Boromir continued, "So you are going to propose a course of battle that will appear at best patently absurd to these men or worse yet, criminally insane. And you are going to do this when they know nothing about you other than what they see in front of them?"
Aragorn smiled slightly, "So it would appear."
Boromir sighed, "Éomer and I will vouch for you of course, and Gandalf, but that will not be enough. You must win them over on your own. Not just for this battle, but for the future course of Gondor."
"I am beginning to understand. You are quite a politician."
"My father trained me for such situations all my life. Although, I am sure he thought it would be me in your position." The warrior turned to the armorer standing by, "We need some armor, please, nothing too fancy, but we need a special breastplate."
"What did you have in mind, lord?"
"Just a regular breastplate with a special crest. Measure him while we talk." Boromir turned to Aragorn, "What symbols are you entitled to bear already, as the Chieftain of the Dúnedain?"
"The Star of the North, and the Elfstone brooch Galadriel gave me."
Boromir showed the armorer the brooch, "Put this design on the armor in gold and add a star above it. Do we have something here that will fit him?"
"Yes, he is fairly close to a standard size."
"Good, have it ready before the sixth hour. Come, Aragorn, you can practice what you are going to say to them."
They walked back towards the Tower. "Where are you taking me?" Aragorn inquired.
"To my old rooms, we can stay there until the armor is ready."
"Oh?" Aragorn picked up Boromir's hand, rubbing it lightly, "So tell me, you find scruffy Rangers charming?"
"Only one, so far," Boromir laughed. "Should I be looking to see if the rest are half so attractive as you are?"
"Not while I have life and breath," the darker man growled, slamming the blond into a nearby wall, and pinning him there with his body. "Now, I do not need to rehearse any words, but there are other arts which I could do with some practice," he purred into the warrior's ear, while grinding his hips slightly against Boromir's.
Boromir shuddered, "Yes." He led his lover into his rooms for some much needed privacy and relaxation.
At the sixth hour, the Lords of Gondor, King Éomer, and the rest of Aragorn's allies met outside the walls of Minas Tirith. The leaders of Gondor were already well disposed towards the Ranger of the North, because of his good fortune in bringing the Black Fleet in time to save Minas Tirith. They grumbled a bit first, but after the endorsements of Boromir and the King of Rohan, agreed to Aragorn's plan. They decided that they could be ready to leave in two days. Boromir spent his days with Faramir in the Houses of Healing and his nights in Aragorn's tent.
On the morning of the second day, the Captains of the West and their forces set forth on the road that led to Minas Morgul. Boromir was in high spirits, glad to be taking the offensive against the Dark Lord at long last. He was not good at subtle planning and manipulation; he preferred direct action. He had trained for this all his life and he finally believed that Frodo might prevail. It eased his heart to be doing something to help the little Ringbearer and erase the stain of his attempt to seize the Ring.
When Aragorn dismissed the faint-hearted to retake Cair Andros, their forces were lessened even more. And Boromir let go of the last evil that had resided in the dark silent places of his soul. He had wondered, since he came to manhood, in his most secret thoughts, which he revealed to no one, if he might one day sit on the throne and not the Steward's chair. He had thought that perhaps when Denethor died, he could convince the people to proclaim him King. But with Aragorn's act of compassion, Boromir understood what his father had told him all along. That in Gondor, a Steward could never be King, that only one of the bloodline of Elendil could sit on the throne of Gondor. He realized that the power of good that Gandalf had told him about was still trying to remake him.
When the Captains of the West reached the Black Gate at last, Boromir faced the coming battle with grim determination. He gasped with horror with the rest of the company when the Mouth of Sauron offered their surrender in exchange for Frodo's life. But he stiffened his resolve when Gandalf rejected the terms, and Boromir vowed at that moment that he would never yield anything of any sort to the Dark Lord.
Boromir stood with Aragorn on a low pile of slag and they prepared to make their final, desperate battle. Their forces should have been laughable in the face of the might of Mordor, but Boromir felt nothing but pride as he stood beside his liege under the sable banner bearing the devices of Elendil, which no King of Men had used since the dawning of the Third Age. The warrior reflected that if he died this day, he would die well content. But then the battle started and Boromir had no more time for reflection.
One of the Nazgûl flew near where Aragorn was standing and the Wraith shrieked as it recognized Isildur's Heir. The foul beast it was riding plunged towards the Ranger. Boromir saw its flight and pushed his lover to the ground. He turned to face the fiend and raised his shield over Aragorn. The Ringwraith shattered his shield with a blow from his sword and flew away for another pass at the warrior. Boromir resolved that he would stand between Aragorn and this doom, no matter what it cost him. He stood up and stretched his arms over the Ranger as the monster plummeted towards them. The deadly claws were only a few feet from sinking themselves into his chest, but he stood firm, he would let no harm come to Aragorn. Suddenly, the Nazgûl wheeled and sped away, along with the other Ringwraiths who deserted the battlefield. The two men had no time to celebrate their survival for the tide of battle had swept up to them once again.
Aragorn was fighting hand-to-hand with an Easterling, when Boromir saw a wicked crooked scimitar, wielded by another Easterling fighter, plunging for Aragorn's chest. The warrior interposed the remains of his shield between his love and the blade just in time. The weapon glanced off of his shield and line of fire burst along his hip and left leg as the cutting edge dug in to him. He brought his own sword around and cleaved the Easterling in two. His legs were weakening when he heard Gandalf's voice raised in a mighty cry, "Stand and hold, Men of the West! The hour of doom is upon us!"
The hosts of Mordor surrounding them seemed to lose their will and confusion swept over the forces of the Dark Lord. Boromir turned with the last of his strength and saw a tidal wave of blackness emanating from the Black Land. The wave crashed over his head as his injured leg collapsed and he fell to the ground and knew no more.
Absolution
The warrior of Gondor woke once, and though it was still dark, he was comforted, for it seemed that strong arms held him once again. His leg felt as though fire were licking along the wound and he slid back into oblivion. When Boromir awoke the next time, the low slant of sunlight through a canopy of leaves indicated that it was late afternoon. He heard the rasp of a whetstone on a blade and turned his head to see Gimli working the notches out of his axe.
The Dwarf looked at him and smiled, "Did you decide to rejoin us, lad?"
Boromir felt his stomach clench in fear. "Aragorn?" he could barely breathe.
"Do not worry, he is unharmed." Gimli smiled kindly at the anxious warrior, "There are many wounded who require his tending. He has not slept much the past two days, but when he does, he has joined you on that cot."
The blond relaxed, but then Gimli's words registered. "Two days? I have been out two days?"
Gimli looked serious, "The Easterling cut you deep enough that his weapon hit bone and you lost much blood. Aragorn was quite worried about you." The Dwarf paused, and then went on more lightly, "That is one reason he slept with you. Among many I am sure." Boromir laughed because Gimli was attempting to leer at him, but the expression was lost in his beard and merely looked comical.
The Dwarf put his axe away, "I will get you some dinner, I am sure you are hungry." Boromir nodded for he was suddenly ravenous at the thought of food.
"Will you tell me what has occurred while I eat?" he asked his friend.
Gimli returned with a plate of food, which Boromir devoured while the Dwarf related all that had happened since the warrior had lost consciousness in front of the Black Gate.
"Frodo and Sam are alive?" Boromir was shocked and delighted that the Ringbearer and his faithful friend had made it out of the Land of Shadow.
Gimli frowned, "They live, but whether they will continue to do so is not certain. They have suffered greatly and they are the main reason for the King's lack of sleep."
"King?" Boromir questioned.
"Aye, he does not deny it anymore. All have hailed him as King and he waits for his coronation when we return to Minas Tirith."
Night had fallen by the time Boromir had finished his dinner. Gimli lit a torch for the warrior was restless and could not sleep. "I need to get up and see to the men, to check on Pippin," Boromir groused.
"Nay, my lord, the King has commanded that you stay in bed, and he has set me here with my axe to enforce his decrees," Gimli glared at his charge, and hefted his weapon.
Boromir glared back, as he flexed his leg to see if it was strong enough to carry him past the Dwarf. At that moment, Aragorn came into the bower.
"I see the invalid is being difficult," he said mildly.
"I will leave him in your hands," Gimli said and stomped off into the darkness.
Aragorn turned to his lover, "I might have known you would be a challenging patient," he said with a smirk. "Lie down and let me see your leg."
"You can see anything you want," Boromir said hopefully.
"Not tonight, love," Aragorn sighed, "you are still healing."
"But," Boromir protested.
"Shh. There will be time for us. There will time for everything, now. The Ring is destroyed and Sauron is defeated." Aragorn gave a clear ringing laugh that gave Boromir chills of pleasure to hear it. "We will have our space for love and delight. No ardor tonight, but we will sleep in each other's arms."
"Aye, I believe I can rest if you lie with me." Boromir sighed with contentment as Aragorn gently wrapped his long arms around Boromir's chest.
Several days later, Boromir shifted nervously, trying to ease the ache in his wounded left leg. He stood with Legolas and Gimli, beside the thrones of King Elessar, King Éomer, and his uncle, the Prince of Dol Amroth, as they waited to honour the Ringbearers. The warrior had been appalled at the extent of the damage to both Hobbits, and most especially to Frodo. The small being had always been pale but now his skin was nearly translucent, as if the wraithing process that had begun on Weathertop had continued. Sam had lost a great deal of weight, but Frodo seemed to be a skeleton given life and animation. Boromir had stayed beside their beds for many days while Aragorn labored to heal them. Pippin had been badly injured as well, but he was soon out of bed, and his recovery was complete when Merry showed up with some supply wagons from Minas Tirith. But Frodo had not seen Boromir yet, and the warrior was ashamed to face the Ringbearer.
The Men of the West cheered the Hobbits who had delivered them all from Sauron. Frodo and Sam alternated between pride and embarrassment at being the center of so much attention. After the ceremony was completed, cooks brought out food and drink, and the festivities began.
As the celebration continued, Boromir observed Frodo withdraw from the company and then leave by himself. The warrior followed him and eventually found the Hobbit standing by the river, staring into the water. "Frodo?" he questioned.
The Halfling turned and nodded to the Man.
Boromir knelt before Frodo, and bowed his head, "Forgive me, I did not understand."
"No, Boromir, do not do that," Frodo rasped. "I cannot bear it, not from you."
"Then I will withdraw and trouble you no more," Boromir said stiffly, getting to his feet.
"No, I did not mean that, I did not want you to bow to me. Please stay," Frodo pleaded. Boromir hesitated a moment and then sat down on the riverbank beside the Ringbearer. Frodo dropped to the ground and turned to look at the Man, and Boromir was finally able to look into his eyes. What he saw there shocked him. Frodo's usually luminous blue eyes were dull and haunted. And they were full of the same self-loathing that Boromir knew had been in his own eyes for many days, before Aragorn had burned all such emotions away with his love.
"Frodo," Boromir said softly, "what is it?"
"Of all the people here, I believe that you are the only one who can fully understand me. Your presence comforts me. Please stay with me."
Boromir shook his head dazedly, "I would think that I would be the last person you would want, after my actions towards you, but of course I will stay."
"You do not understand, we are the same, but I see that you have prevailed and I am comforted."
"The same! I forsook my oaths and laid violent hands on you. While you carried that Ring through who knows what travail, at a heavy price to yourself, you kept your oaths and destroyed the Ring. You did what I could not."
"No, I didn't." Frodo held up his mangled hand, "This is the price I paid for my betrayal. You see, I claimed the Ring in the end. I carried it all the way to the Sammath Naur, and then I could not do it."
Boromir pulled the small hand into his callused palm, and rubbed it gently, "Then how?"
Frodo smiled bitterly, "Gollum. Gandalf was right, as usual. The creature did have a part to play after all. He could not bear to see the Ring on my finger and he bit the finger off. He was dancing around in triumph and fell into the Cracks of Doom."
Frodo pulled his hand free from the warrior's grasp and clasped both hands around his knees, as he went on, "You joined the Fellowship to save your country and I joined it to save mine. But you held trued to your love for Gondor, even when you tried to take the Ring from me. And I, I claimed the Ring for myself, I wasn't thinking about the Shire when I put it on, only that I would challenge Sauron himself for power."
The Halfling gave a small sob, "And now I do not know how I can find absolution."
Boromir laid a comforting hand on the little one's shoulder, "Have you spoken to Gandalf about this?"
"No," Frodo whispered, "I do not have the heart to tell him of my failure."
"Well, don't. He will just give you some rubbish about how it was your destiny and there is some higher power at work, and so on."
Frodo smiled weakly, "Yes, I think I have heard that speech before."
Boromir turned serious again, "I found in my own case that the only way I could find forgiveness was to grant it to myself. I made vows and imposed penance on myself, and Gandalf filled my ears with his nonsense, but in the end I had to find my way on my own. I had help from someone very dear to me, and he finally made me see."
"Who?"
"Well, you see," Boromir cursed under his breath as he felt a blush steal across his cheeks. "Aragorn and I, we became close, very close. It is hard to explain."
"I am not a child, are you saying you have become lovers?"
"Yes, exactly," Boromir breathed in relief that the Halfling understood.
"Are you saying that love could overpower the Ring?"
Boromir pondered the question for a moment, "No, I don't think so. I think the Ring was too potent for that. While it was near me, I would have harkened to its call whether I loved Aragorn or not. And I still heard its voice, even after you and Sam left the Fellowship. It would torment me in my dreams. But when I finally realized that I loved Aragorn, I could no longer hear it."
Frodo sat in silence, absorbing Boromir's words. Finally, he said softly, "Sam loves me."
"Then let him heal you," Boromir smiled. He got to his feet, "Frodo, I thank you for your graciousness and forgiveness. I think I will return to the party." He walked off into the darkness, and soon passed Sam on the way to the river to find his master.
As the warrior neared the lights of the celebration under the trees, hands reached out of the night and grabbed him. Boromir was pulled into an intimate embrace and bearded lips descended on his own. A husky voice drawled, "You belong to me."
"As long as I have life and breath, and then forever until the world is remade, Ranger," Boromir replied.
King
After several days of rest and recovery for the wounded, the Captains of the West departed for Minas Tirith to crown their King. The army traveled in slow stages in deference to those who had been injured, especially the Hobbits.
As they rode, Boromir found himself with an honour guard of Halflings. They seemed to delight in riding beside him and filling his ears with the ridiculous exploits of the inhabitants of the Shire. Sometimes a pain-filled haunted look would come over Frodo and then he and Sam would ride by themselves for a while. Merry and Pippin, however, would cease recounting their many pranks only when they broke into drinking songs. Boromir laughed until his sides ached.
The warrior of Gondor observed his little ones carefully and noted changes in their demeanor. They had seen and done things that even the most battle-tested soldier of Minas Tirith could not claim. But their experiences had not hardened them, for they still retained their merriment. However, they both had an air of quiet confidence about them. They both knew that they were not burdens, that they could take care of themselves if necessary. Of all the good things that come from the downfall of Sauron, Boromir was most thankful that his little ones had survived intact in both body and spirit.
Aragorn joined them frequently and Boromir was startled at the changes in his usually stern lover. The King laughed often with such joy that thrilled Boromir to hear it. His burden of being Isildur's Heir was gone; he had faced his greatest fear and prevailed. He had saved Gondor and kept his oaths. And Boromir rode beside him and Aragorn was content.
After many days of riding, they drew close to the gates of the White City. A rail was drawn across the entrance to the city, and Faramir stood behind it, along with many dignitaries representing Gondor and her allies.
Aragorn rode forward until he reached the barrier. Faramir stepped forth. "The last Steward of Gondor begs leave to surrender his office," he proclaimed in a loud voice, handing the Rod of the Stewardship to the King.
Aragorn looked at the white rod for a moment and then passed it back to Faramir, "Gondor will always need her Steward, and I grant this office to you and your heirs as long as my line endures. Do now your office!"
The Steward faced the assembled people of Gondor. "This man is descended from Elendil through his son, Isildur, and he would take the throne of the Reunited Realms of Gondor and Arnor! Shall we accept his claim and allow him to entire our city as our King?"
After receiving a roar of affirmation from all present, Faramir turned to a tall soldier in the uniform of the Tower Guard who was holding a jeweled casket. The Steward opened the chest and removed the ancient crown of the Kings of Gondor. As he lifted it, the jewels and silver on the winged helm caught the sunlight.
Boromir looked at Faramir with pride as his brother approached with the crown of Kings in his hands. Faramir had finally come into his own destiny and the flinching look that had haunted his gaze since their mother died had disappeared. The Steward had found his peace.
Faramir gave the crown to Frodo, who brought it to Gandalf. Aragorn knelt before the wizard. "Now come the days of King Elessar, and may they be blessed while the thrones of the Valar endure!" he cried as he placed the White Crown on Aragorn's head. Elessar stood up and turned to face his people. Once again, his royalty was revealed, as it had been when Aragorn first grasped the reforged Narsil. Those assembled saw his grace and nobility, his strength and his courage and his healing hands. The scruffy Ranger was gone forever.
And then Faramir shouted, "Behold the King!"
The barrier was pushed back and Elessar and his company entered the city. All of Minas Tirith joined in with singing and dancing and the Banner of the Tree and the Stars was unfurled from silver and pearl spike of the Tower of Ecthelion.
The celebration of Elessar's coronation had extended from one day and on into the next, when Aragorn finally found Boromir. "I am exhausted, Boromir, take me to bed," the King pleaded. The warrior looked surprised, but escorted Aragorn to the royal chambers, which had not been used in nearly a thousand years. The women of the Tower had worked for weeks, preparing them for the new King.
Boromir paced nervously around the room while Aragorn removed the winged crown and his ceremonial robes. The warrior laughed shortly in an effort to relieve his tension, "I don't think I've ever seen you so ... so clean. Well, maybe at Rivendell."
"Are you teasing me again, love?"
"Yes, always." Boromir faced his lover who had stripped down to just his leggings and boots. "My King, do you want me on my knees to you?" he asked shakily.
Aragorn was puzzled by his lover's agitation and then realized why Boromir was so skittish. Aragorn might be the leader of men and armies and now the King of both Gondor and Arnor, but Boromir had always been the dominant partner in the blankets. His warrior was concerned that the crown would alter their relationship. The King hastened to reassure the younger man. "Oh yes, please. As long as I can have you inside me properly afterwards," he told his lover warmly.
It was Boromir's turn to be perplexed, "But you are the King, it would not be right."
Aragorn reached for the warrior's hand and placed it on his chest over his heart. "King I may be, but underneath everything, I am still a man, a man who is your lover. I would not have that change. Now stop it before I have to shake you."
Boromir smiled, "I love you." He pulled the King closer slowly and ghosted his lips over the other man's. He cupped Aragorn's face and gently swiped his tongue along the seam of the darker man's lips. Aragorn opened his mouth, allowing the warrior's entrance, and then he moaned and arched towards Boromir, trying desperately for more contact than Boromir was giving him.
"Gondor has a King now," Boromir breathed. "Gondor needs the King."
"And the King needs the Son of Gondor to stop his teasing and get on with it," Aragorn demanded.
"Well, the Son of Gondor requires the King to have more patience and stop talking, or the Son of Gondor will quit what he is doing altogether." Boromir ran his hand down to Aragorn's left nipple and pinched it lightly. Aragorn gasped but did not make any further comments. The warrior smirked and ran his hands lightly over the King's chest, pausing occasionally to explore especially sensitive places. Aragorn was writhing and moaning, but he determinedly kept his thoughts to himself.
After a time, Boromir stepped back and Aragorn whimpered at the loss of his touch.
"Look at me," Boromir commanded, "watch." The warrior slowly removed his clothing one layer at a time. The deliberate pace was agonizing for the King, but one look at Boromir's face convinced him that he should not interfere. When Boromir was completely nude, he stood proudly and let Aragorn look his fill at his strong body. The King gasped and clenched his hands at his side, trying not to lose control and cause his lover to terminate the delicious torture.
Boromir moved closer again and Aragorn raised his arms to grab the blond, but Boromir smirked again, "No touching, my King." Aragorn hissed in frustration and returned his hands to his sides.
The warrior knelt in front of the King and lifted one of his booted feet into his lap, slowly working at removing the boot. When the foot was completely naked, Boromir ran his thumbnail along the underside of the arch, and Aragorn suddenly had to concentrate on staying upright. Boromir raised the foot to his lips and traced a line of kisses from the heel to the big toe. He let that foot down and repeated the process with the other one.
Aragorn was starting to feel dizzy and his fingers were buzzing, when Boromir moved to the laces of his leggings. The blond man gently and slowly pulled the leggings down his lover's legs, helping Aragorn to step out of them. Boromir was still kneeling at his feet, but he looked up at the King, who whimpered at the light of mischief in the green eyes.
"Don't touch and don't talk," Boromir ordered, before he engulfed the King's shaft in his mouth. Aragorn groaned as he melted under the hot wetness of his lover's tongue and savaged his lips with his teeth in an effort to keep quiet. Boromir seemed determined to continue his teasing for he took Aragorn's cock deep in his mouth, but then did not move, content to swirl his tongue in intricate patterns on the silken skin. Aragorn was on the verge of disobeying Boromir's commands and begging, when the younger man finally starting moving. The King's arousal had been so heightened by his warrior's erotic torture that he could not last long and quickly spilled into Boromir's mouth.
The blond man stood up and seized the King in a fierce kiss, thrusting his tongue into the willing mouth. Aragorn could taste his own seed on Boromir and moaned as the warrior pillaged his mouth. Boromir finally pulled back and guided Aragorn to the enormous bed.
"You may speak now, you obeyed me very nicely." Boromir lowered the King onto his back. "You must do what I ask, " he said, as he gently arranged Aragorn's arms and legs in a spread-eagle position.
Aragorn cleared his throat, but Boromir's actions were causing him to harden again and he was having trouble concentrating. "What are you doing?"
"I plan on enjoying your delicious body. Now, don't move." Boromir finally had the man displayed to his satisfaction. He stood back to look. "Beautiful," he murmured.
Aragorn was a picture of male splendor. His long dark locks were splayed on the pillow and his skin gleamed. The position in which Boromir had placed his arms caused the muscles in his shoulders and chest to flex slightly. He was breathing heavily but trying to control it. His legs were sprawled apart leaving all of his stiffening manhood exposed and vulnerable to Boromir's gaze. Aragorn desperately tried to control his urge to squirm, but he could not help the tremors that washed over him. "Please," he moaned.
"Stay there," Boromir commanded as he went into the bathing chamber. Aragorn reflected grimly that if this was more teasing he was going to kill the younger man when he got the chance. But Boromir returned quickly with a bottle of oil from the bath.
The blond knelt between the long tan legs and drizzled oil across his balls and down his crease. Aragorn flinched involuntarily, but stilled promptly when Boromir glared at him. The warrior slid an oiled finger into Aragorn, and grinned when the darker man desperately tried to control the movement of his hips. Boromir added another finger, knowing that his lover was more that ready to receive him, but wanting to continue tantalizing him and testing his patience. When Boromir decided that Aragorn was falling apart, when his pleading had turned into incoherent strings of syllables, the warrior grasped the lean hips and angled them towards his groin. He entered the King in one smooth stroke, and then stilled, trying to control himself enough to continue teasing his lover. Aragorn was frantically trying to stay in the position in which Boromir had placed him.
"Relax," Boromir whispered, "you may move." Aragorn sobbed in relief and wrapped his arms and legs around his lover. The King snatched fistfuls of blond hair and pulled Boromir's head down for a searing kiss. Aragorn thrust his tongue in and out of Boromir's mouth as his hips undulated in the same rhythm in an attempt to get the warrior to move. Boromir's control finally snapped and he slammed into his lover repeatedly. Both men were howling in minutes and Aragorn felt spasms building up low in his belly as he came again. Boromir felt the King's release and not hold out any longer, as he emptied into his love.
As they lay together afterwards, Aragorn pillowed his head on Boromir's chest and told him that he would make Faramir the Prince of Ithilien. "What titles and honours shall I bestow on you, love?" he asked his warrior.
"None," Boromir replied, "I gave up all thought of such things when I pledged myself to you."
"But you have been preparing since you where a child to step into a position of power and nobility. How can you set that aside now?"
"My whole life I have been the Steward's son." He shrugged, "I can now be the Steward's brother, it makes no difference to me." He tightened his hold on the King, "As long as I can remain your lover, I need no official rank."
Choices
Boromir knocked once and then entered the Steward's office. "You summoned me, my Lord Steward?" he inquired seriously of the man seated behind the desk.
Faramir rubbed his eyes tiredly, "Why are you being so formal, brother?"
"You asked me here in your official capacity. I merely respect your station."
Faramir sighed, got up from his desk and motioned Boromir over to some chairs by the window. "I am sorry, Boromir, let's not do this. This is official business, but you are still my brother."
"What official business does the Steward have with an ordinary soldier of Gondor?"
"You were never an ordinary anything, from the moment you were born," Faramir said with exasperation. "This business is between the Steward and the King's consort."
"Oh. I thought you approved the relationship."
"My brother, I support anything that makes you so happy, as your brother. As the Steward of Gondor, my concern is for the whole of Gondor." Faramir moved closer to his brother and grasped his hand. "Never forget that I love you, but this must be said."
"Then say it, brother. I can accept from you what I would not from anyone else."
"That throne has been empty for nearly a thousand years. Gondor has recently regained her King, after Eänur in his folly left no heir. The people are so happy just to have Elessar at this moment, that they will allow him any indulgence. But they will remember Eänur and comparisons will be made.
"Go on," Boromir said tightly.
"I know you see this as well as I do. Elessar must take a wife, he must produce an heir. If he were to die with no successor, I do not think Gondor would survive."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Convince the King to consider a wife. Perhaps he could find some noble lady who would agree to a political marriage to produce a child. I do not ask you to sever your ties with him, I know how much he means to you."
"It should not be difficult, if I present it for the good of Gondor." Boromir paused, and then said very softly, "He doesn't love me."
"What?"
"He doesn't love me. Or rather, he loves me, but he is not in love with me. That part of his heart is reserved for his Elven princess, the love he cannot have."
"Boromir, I do not understand. He seems happy with you, he says that he needs you."
"It is not the same way I feel about him. My love for him has overthrown my life. It came to me without my asking, and it is unbiddable, ungovernable. I care not whether it leads to ruin or rapture, I would do anything for him. He would not. He would not sacrifice everything for me. But he feels that way about Arwen."
"But you are more than just a diversion or a bed partner!"
"Yes, I am more than that, but not enough."
Faramir embraced his brother in a wordless attempt at comfort. Boromir choked back sobs as he clenched his fingers in his brother's hair. "Tell me it will be alright, Faramir. Tell me that the sons of Denethor are not cursed to endure their father's loneliness and blighted love for all their days. Lie to me if you must, but tell me we will be happy."
Faramir held his older brother trying to will the unhappiness away. The problem was that neither one of them had any practice at happiness. It was not in the air they breathed. Once their mother had died, joy had no part of their lives, except what they found in each other. Faramir wondered how his brother had managed to keep his sense of humor, after their grim childhood. Finally, he whispered in his brother's ear, "I cannot see your path, but perhaps I do have a chance for bliss."
Boromir pulled away and looked at Faramir questioningly.
"Perhaps you could do a more cheerful duty on my behalf," Faramir offered.
"What duty is that, brother?"
"I ... ah ... that is to say," Faramir was suddenly flustered.
Boromir gave his struggling younger brother an amused look, "You said it was cheerful, why such difficulty?"
Faramir sighed, "The Lady Éowyn of Rohan has agreed to be my wife. Her father and uncle are both gone, and my father is dead as well. That leaves only you to arrange the matter with the King of Rohan."
"You would take on the Shieldmaiden who slew the King of the Nazgûl? I always knew you were the braver of the two of us." Boromir was shaking with laughter.
"I love her with all my heart, brother," Faramir said softly.
"Aye, that I see, little brother. Then it is agreed, I will play the father to you in this business and speak to Éomer on your behalf."
The King found Boromir one morning, several days later, on a wall high on the citadel, idly throwing small pebbles into a garden that lay far below.
"What are you doing, love?" Aragorn inquired.
Boromir shrugged and continued picking pebbles out of the wall and tossing them over.
"I know you have not been happy these past few days," Aragorn said, as he jumped onto the wall to join the other man. "Please tell me, maybe I can make it right."
"You cannot fix everything for me. Some things I must do myself, and much as it pains me, this is one thing."
"What is this thing? Aragorn pressed.
"I must ask you to release me from my vow," Boromir replied.
"You took that vow upon yourself, I have no power to release you from it."
"But you accepted it, now only you can unbind me."
"Why do you wish this thing?" Aragorn queried.
"According to Gandalf, my destiny was to force Frodo to go to Mordor on his own."
"Yes, and?"
Boromir shifted impatiently, "I have fulfilled my destiny, why am I still here?" He held up a hand as Aragorn made an inarticulate protest. "I should have died at Amon Hen, there is no place for me now."
"But you have a place, beside me or behind me, protecting my back. I need you." Aragorn's heart was slamming with fear.
"No, my King, for you are King now. And Gondor needs a King and other Kings to follow. Gondor needs a queen as well. I cannot give you heirs, and I cannot be a part of your life. You have found the White Tree, surely you must realize that your Elven princess did not desert you."
"Perhaps, but what are you saying?"
"I am talking about leaving Minas Tirith."
"Leaving, but why?"
"Gondor has just been given back her King. Our people should not have to witness you torn between two loves. It might lead to political instability. There are some who have lost a measure of power at the return of the King. I cannot let any dissension occur that they could use to their advantage. I am not what Gondor needs for you to have. For the good of our country, I must do this one last thing, and leave."
"I am their promised King, they love me, we can make this work," Aragorn pleaded.
Boromir turned and gently caressed Aragorn's cheek, "I need to leave for myself as well."
Aragorn gripped the hand, holding Boromir to him. Boromir tilted his head forward, so that his green eyes were staring into Aragorn's blue ones.
"I owe you everything, Ranger. You saved my life, and then when I would have given in to despair and hopelessness, you would not leave me alone. You held me while nightmares took me, you gave me purpose and you let me love you. You battered through all of the defenses around my heart, all of my pride and arrogance and stupidity, until there was nothing in me but you. You saved me with your love." Boromir saw the blue eyes swimming with tears and felt his own fill as well.
Boromir gulped and whispered, "I no longer know if I can stand on my own anymore, but I have to try. If we were anybody else, things might be different. I might be able to stay by your side. But we are not. You are the High King Elessar and I am nothing but the brother of the Steward of Gondor."
"You are the steward of me," Aragorn breathed. "You hold my heart in your hands, and I have never regretted giving it to you." He slanted his head so that his lips met Boromir's in a long, gentle kiss.
Both men were breathing heavily when the kiss ended. "Your heart will be whole quickly enough, my brother. I know that the best part of it belongs to Arwen." Boromir touched a finger to the King's lips and buried his other hand in the dark hair, when Aragorn made a slight protesting noise, "No, I place no blame, but you know I speak the truth."
Aragorn nodded and stroked his lover's face, "I will release you, but there are still battles to be fought, there are still many Orcs out there. How can I fight without you to protect me?"
Boromir grinned, "Do not fear for your beautiful hide, my King. I believe that your destiny is to live a long time and grow very old. Well, older that you are now, anyway." He laughed as Aragorn growled at him.
Aragorn drew the younger man into a comfortable embrace, "Where will you go?"
"As you just pointed out, there are many unfought Orcs about. I think I will head into Dunland first, clean that out, and then look for any more trouble I can find."
"When?"
"I will stay to see Faramir wed to his Shieldmaiden, then I must go."
"Will you ever come back?"
Boromir gave him a lazy smile, "From time to time. I will have to see the nieces and nephews my brother will provide. And I must prevent my King from becoming too pompous."
Aragorn laughed through his tears, "Just promise me you will be careful."
Sacrifice
A week later, on midsummers eve, King Elessar and the Steward's brother stood on the walls of Minas Tirith once again and watched as a large company of Elves rode in through the great gate of the city. Elrond was there with Glorfindel and the other lords of his house escorting his daughter Arwen Und_miel, Evenstar of her people, to deliver her to the King of the Reunited Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor, as Elrond had long ago promised his foster-son.
Aragorn looked at Boromir and saw the deep sadness in his lover's eyes. "How did you know she would not leave? Elrohir told me that she had started for the Havens, how could you have known she would not complete her journey?"
"Because I would not, if I had been she. I would care not if I was forever sundered from my people, if it meant I could stay be your side for all of my mortal days and throughout eternity."
"Please do not leave me," Aragorn whispered.
"But I am not she, so I must go," Boromir answered, "for the sake of the people we both have sworn to defend. And for you, you have wanted this since you first came to manhood." He smiled, "Come, let us go and greet your lady."
Boromir and Aragorn spent that night in each other's arms for the last time. As they lay in peaceful satiation, the King held his warrior securely. "My heart is torn, and I wish this choice was not before me," Aragorn whispered.
"You swore that you would not let our people fail. You must do this to fulfill your oath."
"But I thought I would discharge that vow in battle. I did not realize that letting you go would be one of the conditions."
"That is the tricky thing about oaths, you can never tell where they will lead you. My oath to save Gondor nearly destroyed us all."
Aragorn kissed away the tears trickling out of Boromir's eyes. "I do not regret loving you, and I never will."
The next day was Mid-Summers Day and the High King Elessar wed his Elven princess to the great rejoicing of the entire city of Minas Tirith. After the royal couple retired to their chambers, Boromir took up several flasks of the strong Dorwinion wine and retreated to one of the gardens to get quietly drunk. Faramir and Éomer found him there some hours later.
"Come, Éomer, let us get him to bed," the Steward of Gondor grasped one of his brother's arms and the King of Rohan took the other.
"Take me to my old rooms," Boromir mumbled, "I have not slept there since ..."
The two younger men exchanged glances full of sympathy for the inebriated warrior. Éomer knew of the relationship between Boromir and the King, and had discerned it almost from the start. He realized that the Gondorian's heart was breaking, knowing that he had to surrender the King to another.
They finally reached Boromir's rooms, and Faramir propped his brother up against Éomer, while he tried to get the door open. He whirled around swiftly when they were hailed by a clear ringing voice.
"My lord Steward, I would have a word with your brother." The Queen stepped forward from the shadows.
"But Your Majesty, he is drunk and we were going to put him to bed," Faramir protested, even as he bowed low to Queen Arwen.
"Bring him inside and sober him quickly, I must speak with him."
Faramir hastened to get the door open and then he and Éomer pulled Boromir into the room. The Steward arranged his brother in a chair by the fireplace, while the King got the fire going. Faramir went to the bathing chamber and returned with a flagon of water, which he forced the drunken warrior to swallow. Much of the liquid spilled down his front, but finally Boromir opened his eyes, sputtering and protesting.
Arwen paced the room as Faramir tended to Boromir. She noticed that the furnishings were plain to the point of being stark, but the wood of the furniture was of the highest quality and the most expensive species. The hangings were few but exquisitely stitched with brilliant silks. She wondered how much the room reflected the man, as Éomer pried the warrior's jaws open for Faramir to pour the water. The Queen could easily see the Elvish blood running in the Steward, the dreamer of true-dreams. But Boromir was a puzzle and she doubted her purpose. Until Boromir finally opened his eyes, and then she saw it. No elf had eyes that color, but in his eyes lay the proof of his heritage from his mother. She understood Estel at that moment, for she also saw the vulnerability and the uncertainty that the proud warrior kept well hidden. She then knew that her course was correct.
"Brother, we have a guest." Faramir gestured to the Elven queen who watched the proceedings solemnly. "The lady wishes to converse with you."
Boromir's eyes became huge, "My lady, how can I serve you?"
Faramir and Éomer rose as if to leave, but Arwen stopped them. "Your brother, the Steward, may remain for this matter concerns Gondor intimately. But, King Éomer, I must do you this discourtesy, for I cannot open my mind in front of any but Boromir and his brother."
Éomer smiled, "No discourtesy, my lady. There are some things that I do not need to know. I have some unfinished business to tend to myself." He exited, closing the door tightly behind him.
Boromir stared at Arwen bleakly, wondering how he could endure a scolding from her when he had freely given to her the love of his life. But the Queen seemed uncomfortable, twisting her fingers in her lap. Boromir suddenly pitied her, an Elf walled into a city of stone, among people that were not her own, for the rest of her life. He covered her fidgeting hands with his own, and asked her more gently this time, "How may I serve you?"
She looked at him, and Boromir saw thousands of years of experience and wisdom reflected in her dark blue eyes, and he recalled that she was the daughter of one of the most powerful Elf-lords of this or any age, and his pity for her fled.
"Make no mistake, Boromir of Gondor, my marriage has been consummated. There is no child from this night's work, but there will be soon." Her voice was stern and unyielding, but she returned the clasp of his hands.
"My lady, I meant no disrespect, but you seemed unsure of yourself," he apologized.
"My position is unassailable, it is only the course that I am contemplating that I doubt. This is more difficult to say than I dreamed."
Faramir shifted uncomfortably, "Do you wish me to leave?"
"No," she sighed. "I must start from the beginning." She turned to Boromir again, "Do you know how long it has been since Estel and I swore to be bound together?" At the shake of Boromir's head, she answered, "It has been since you were two years old, Boromir of Gondor. We have been trothplighted for almost as many years as you have walked this earth. For years, he has had nothing in his mind but how to win me, despite the barriers placed on our love by my father. And I also have held true to our love, defying my father and forsaking my people for him." She closed her eyes, and Boromir hung his head. She continued, "Imagine my hurt and anger when he greeted me yesterday, and I saw that I was not the only soul in his heart. I did not know who it was until this night, when he told me all, that in a few short months another had taught him love." She stood up and Boromir quailed at the sight of the enraged Elf. But she merely went to the fire, and held her hands to its warmth.
Boromir swallowed nervously, "Did he also tell you that I plan to leave this place?"
Her shoulders hunched and she whispered, "Yes, and that alone has given me the strength to come here to you." She turned and Boromir once again saw resolve and courage in her eyes. "I love him and I can deny him nothing. He grieves for your absence and he loves you as well as he does me." The warrior gasped in shock, but the Queen held up her hand, "Let me finish, please. I came here tonight to see what sort of man has stolen my husband's heart. But I see now that you are both brave and noble, and well deserving of Estel's love. Therefore, I propose a bargain with you. That you will hold to your word to leave after Faramir's wedding, and I will agree to share him with you until that time."
Boromir nodded dazedly, "Yes, that is more than I ever dreamed and I thank you, my lady."
Arwen turned to Faramir, "My lord Steward, you are the witness to this agreement, and you shall see, on behalf of Gondor and her King, that it is fairly kept on both sides."
"Yes, my lady," Faramir agreed.
"Then come, Boromir, tonight you shall sleep in the bed which you have occupied these many months." She smiled, "Faramir, would you do us the kindness of escorting us to the King's bedchambers?"
Faramir held out his arm and Arwen took it. The Steward reflected that Gondor had gained a very remarkable Queen, and he felt secure in the knowledge that the kingdom was in her exceedingly capable hands. Boromir was still in a daze and wondered if the whole experience was not the result of a hallucination produced by the strong wine he had consumed. He shook off his befuddlement when Faramir opened the door to Aragorn's chambers and ushered him inside.
"I leave you here, brother, go to your love and enjoy this time together which you have been granted by the grace of our Queen." Faramir left them and returned to the feast.
Boromir turned and once again felt dizzy. Aragorn was asleep, lying on his side in the huge bed. He was quite obviously naked under the sheet that was drawn not quite to his waist in the warmth of the summer night. The King's hair was tousled and his tan skin glowed against the white of the sheets. Boromir shook his head and turned to Arwen. "Why?"
The Queen did not pretend to misunderstand the question. "I am an Elf. We take the long view of the world because we have no choice. We live forever and we recognize certain ... truths, shall we say. I am not bound by the conventions of Men. I am subject only to my capacity for love. And I see that you are worthy of love, therefore I give it to you." She gestured to the bed, "Join him and we will explain it to him in the morning." Arwen turned and went into one of the adjoining rooms.
Boromir slowly removed his clothing and crept into the bed beside his love. Aragorn instinctively shifted in his sleep, twining his long legs around Boromir's bulkier body. The King placed a sleepy kiss on the warrior's chest and then settled into deeper slumber. Boromir stroked the dark hair spread across his shoulder and contentedly let oblivion overtake him.
Leaving
After weeks of celebration and healing, the Hobbits eventually became restless and asked leave of the King to return to the Shire. Aragorn was reluctant to separate the Fellowship for the last time and asked them to stay until the court would go to Rohan for King Théoden's funeral. King Éomer and his Riders would be coming back to escort the old King's body to Edoras.
Boromir spent his time with the Hobbits, for their cheerfulness lifted his heart. He worried still about Frodo. "He will never heal completely, will he?" he asked as he and Elessar stood at a window watching the Hobbits in the garden.
"No, I think not," the King said reflectively. "Arwen has offered her place on Elrond's ship to Valinor to him. I judge that he will take it. And our Fellowship will be sundered forever. I believe that when we part from him this time, you and I will never see him again."
"It grieves me to see him so diminished. He saved us all, but we cannot save him."
"He will find healing in the West."
Arwen became pregnant at the end of the summer, after the royal party returned from the funeral of King Théoden in Rohan. She surrendered Aragorn completely to Boromir during the early days of her pregnancy, determined to give her husband time with his other love before their inevitable separation. Faramir and Éowyn were to be wed in Gondor on mid-winter's day.
The day after Faramir's wedding, Aragorn came to the stables and found Boromir had just finished loading his horse.
"Where you going to leave without saying goodbye? I could not bear that!"
"No, but listen, my mother's folk have a superstition. They believe that if you watch someone leaving on a journey until they disappear, you will never see them again in life. Promise me you will not watch me out of sight."
Aragorn wrapped his arms around his lover, trying to imprint the feel of his body on his memory. "I promise." He brought his lips down on Boromir's and poured all of his love into one final kiss. "Just remember, until you are home again, you belong to me."
Boromir nodded shakily, "I belong to you."
Aragorn held his warrior, gently stroking the laugh lines around his grass green eyes. "We left Rivendell a year ago tomorrow. It has been a long strange road that has brought us to this place. And we have passed through fire and deep water since that day."
"I know. I wish ... "
"What?" Aragorn prompted.
"That you and I could have come to an understanding sooner. Not just lovers, but friends as well. I resented you so much, thought you belittled my family and all we have striven for over the long years."
"And I did not have enough faith in my own race to trust you. But somehow, you managed to love me anyway."
"We have to stop this or I will lose my courage."
Aragorn nodded, "I will walk you to the gate."
As they walked, they chatted quietly about small matters, as the people greeted their much-loved King. When they reached the great gate, they found Arwen already there.
"I came to wish safe journey to my husband's beloved friend," she told them.
Boromir bowed low and kissed her hand, "Thank you, my lady, for your many kindnesses and understanding."
He turned and quickly mounted his horse. Aragorn reached up for one last handclasp, then Boromir wheeled the animal and trotted out the gate. He felt Aragorn's eyes on him, and then breathed a sigh of relief when the feeling went away. Boromir rode away from Gondor and his King and he did not look back.
Epilogue
So it came to pass that Boromir the Brave, brother of the Steward of Gondor, set out on deeds of errantry. He wielded his sword in defense of the little ones, for all people of all races. His exploits carried him throughout all the lands of the West, and eastward to the far shores of Middle Earth. Many tales were told about him, and over time his legend grew, and he became known as the Son of Gondor, a hero who would come at need, to defend those who had no other hope.
But in Minas Tirith, it was whispered that after sixty years of wandering, the Son of Gondor grew weary of exile and knew his life was near its end. He longed to come home to the city of his birth, which he had loved so dearly. He also yearned for his King, whose love had saved him from the Shadow. So Boromir came back to Aragorn, and they lived in bliss for the two years that remained of Boromir's life, and none gainsaid them. When he died, Boromir was laid to rest, in honour, in the White City. And the warrior journeyed beyond the Walls of the World, and there he waited to be reunited with his King.
Whether this be truth or merely legend, this tale does not tell. For the lands have changed and the old stories are long forgotten.
"Love lives again, that with the dead has been."
by Raederle
Yet dearly I love you and would be loved fain,
But am betrothed unto your enemy:
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
—from "Batter My Heart" by John Donne
he pain in his shoulder drives him to his
knees. Can't stop, get up, get up. Struggle to his feet, look for the
Hobbits. Still behind him. Where is that Orc archer? More Orcs.
It's
daylight, how are they so strong? Blow the horn again. Where is the
archer?
Another arrow. Missed me, you filth! Grit his teeth, swing the sword.
No,
give them back! More Orcs, keep swinging. Where is the archer?
Fight
through the Orcs, try to reach the little ones. Too many, too many.
Jolt to
his side. Something lost. Wait, the horn. Give it back! The archer
raises
the bow again, arrow nocked, cruel smile. A dark shape, falling out of the sky.
Aragorn. Keep swinging the sword. The pain, arm is tiring.
Archer dead,
the rest flee. Sinks to his knees, blood spurting down his left side, daylight
dimming.
—John McLeod Crum
