Wandering in a Dream
'Cause I believe in you
"Faramir should have come," he muttered, as he followed another elf to his rooms. These were luxuriously appointed, but once again, he was not at ease. He paced restlessly for several minutes and then decided to explore.
Boromir wandered aimlessly, absorbing the strangeness of Rivendell, until his head was swimming from the endlessly repeating patterns and his mind was becoming disconnected. His brother would have been curious and fascinated and not at all overwhelmed by this. Thinking of Faramir steadied his thoughts and he remembered conversations with him about his brother's fascination with Elves and Elvish tales. "Men and Elves were not meant to mix, little brother." But this thought brought to his head a tale of Faramir's where Men and Elves did mix, with legendary results. He strained his memory to call up Faramir's voice softly singing of Beren One-Hand and his quest for the Silmaril as he walked into what appeared to be a gallery of paintings depicting the history of Middle Earth.
The Man of Gondor stood in front of a painting of Isildur and Sauron, staring in wonder, but his mind was still full of the legend of Beren. Isildur had found a mighty treasure and lost it to his own doom, but Beren had kept his treasure until the end of his days, if Faramir had the tale right. Boromir wondered glumly whether his fate would mirror Beren's or Isildur's if he obeyed his father's commands.
Suddenly aware of eyes on him, Boromir swung around and gaped in surprise: for here was the Man of whom he had been thinking. The stranger had dark hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to take him in and lay him bare, all his desires and secret dreams.
"Beren?" Boromir wondered if, in this place of enchantment, his thoughts had become physically manifest.
"What?" the Man responded.
"You're no Elf," Boromir explained.
"No, I am friend to Gandalf the Grey," the Man replied. "Men of the South are welcome here."
Boromir turned away, shaken by his mistaken impression of this Man, who on closer viewing, appeared to be no more than a Ranger. How could he have thought that this shabby hunter was the greatest hero of the First Age? He saw the shards of Narsil and seizing on something to break the tension, picked up the hilt. The blade was still sharp and he promptly cut his finger from the nervous shaking that seemed to have overcome him. He put the hilt down, but he missed the table and the hilt clattered to the floor. He did not stop to pick it up, but fled, ashamed of his ineptness and thoroughly discomforted by the eyes of the Ranger and the strangeness of the Elven land.
After the Council of Elrond and the forming of the Fellowship, Boromir retreated to the woods surrounding Elrond's house. His confidence was badly bruised by the things that had happened to him since he had arrived in this place of Elven magic. His father had been dreadfully wrong about the Ring and he had to accept the words of Gandalf. Gandalf, a wizard. Boromir snorted to himself. He was a plain soldier, dedicated to Gondor and all she stood for, and here he was consorting with beings out of half-forgotten legends. Halflings, and Dwarves, and wizards, and Elves. And the legend that perturbed him the most was... him. Not a mere Ranger after all, but Isildur's Heir, with all that implied. And here his thoughts tangled. Loyalty to his father had made him mock the Man, and concern for Gondor, and whether this Northern Ranger could understand his country. But he was drawn to this Aragorn, pulled in by those impossibly deep eyes.
At least the woods seemed normal, he thought as he settled on an enormous fallen log. The beech and linden trees towered over him and leaves fluttered around him as the gentle west wind sent flurries down from the treetops.. The peaceful silence of the forest stole into his heart and he was calm when he saw Aragorn walking through the trees toward him.
"May I join you?" Aragorn asked and Boromir gestured to the log beside him. The Ranger sat down, and Boromir stared up at the lacy pattern of leaves, trying to regain his peace, for his heart was beating unsteadily.
"We shall be companions on a long and weary road, and there should be no ill-will between us," Aragorn stated as Boromir gazed at him.
"I bear you no malice, Aragorn," Boromir replied softly. "You are heir to the throne of Gondor and I am naught but the son of her Steward."
"You are a brave and valiant man and we shall be sword brothers," Aragorn smiled and Boromir nodded in agreement.
The two men sat peacefully for a time and then Aragorn asked, "Why did you call me Beren when you saw me in the library?"
Boromir's fair skin blushed rosy and he laughed nervously. "I thought I had strayed into some Elvish dream where my thoughts were brought to life. I was remembering the song of Beren One-Hand and you seemed the very image of him. I am very bad at history and lore, but surely I am correct that you are of his line?"
"I am descended from him, but I am not the hero that he was. I cannot stretch out my hand to this token of power, you do understand that?"
"I am just a soldier of Gondor. I will accept the words of the Wise, that we cannot use this thing."
Aragorn nodded and Boromir turned slightly to face the Ranger. "But you are a hero, I can see that in you. I know a leader when I see one, and you are a man to inspire loyalty."
"Perhaps. And perhaps my fate will somewhat follow Beren's," Aragorn replied, thinking of Arwen.
Boromir suddenly remembered more of the legend of Beren, and said slowly, "Beren had a sword brother who loved him so much that he was willing to die for him."
"Finrod Felegund," Aragorn agreed.
Boromir bowed his head, "I do not know what oath I can give you that you would accept or what will not conflict with my other oaths to Gondor. But you have pulled me to you, Ranger, whether you meant to or not, so I say to you: that I will lay down my life if needed to save yours."
The Ranger was unexpectedly moved by the Gondorian's heartfelt pledge and tears trickled down Aragorn's cheeks as he lifted Boromir's head up. "And I will give my life for you," he answered and brought his lips to Boromir's.
Aragorn meant only to seal their vows, but Boromir knew as soon as they touched that he did indeed love this Ranger and he felt bonds form around his heart that would never be broken, not even by death.
Aragorn did not expect the passionate response that he got from Boromir to the simple kiss, but he knew that the thing between them went further than friendship or brotherhood. As their desire burned brighter, Aragorn realized that somehow, he had pledged his love to two beings.
"May the Valar protect them both," he thought as he answered Boromir's urgency.
And the ancient trees leaned over them in shelter and the leaves swirled around as the west wind clothed them in autumn finery after their heat was spent.
by Raederle
I would die for you
I've been dying just to feel you by my side
To know that you're mine
I believe in you
I would die for you...
—from #1 Crush by Garbage
oromir of Gondor stood quietly for a moment while his horse was led away by a helpful elf. He slowly walked up the broad steps that led to the Last Homely House. The place was beautiful, that he could see, but the architecture was alien to him, and he thought that the intricate twining forms carried a message that he was too dull to understand. He had been there mere minutes and already he felt uncomfortable and out of his depth.
