In the Shadow of Tol Brandir
When he sighted the Uruk-hai captain readying his second arrow,
Aragorn leapt at him with a cry, but the bolt had already been
released. Boromir twisted and caught it in the shoulder. When
Aragorn had finally dispatched his nemesis, many more orcs had fallen
to Boromir's sword, yet the bulk of the company had moved on and the
steward's son had again fallen. Aragorn rushed to his side and knelt
close beside him. Boromir's face was pale and sheened with sweat,
his breathing labored. He clutched at Aragorn's shoulder.
"Have you seen Frodo? I tried to take it. I tried to hurt him..."
"I let Frodo go."
Legolas and Gimli came upon them then and Aragorn asked the two
for water. They had none but set off at once to retrieve the gear.
Aragorn moved to sit close to Boromir, clasping his hand.
"I meant to guard Merry and Pippin, but the orcs have taken them. I
think they still live."
Aragorn frowned. "We ought to follow them, but you cannot travel.
These wounds may be long in healing, and we are not near to friendly
folk."
"You must continue without me."
"No! Were you dead, I would not leave you to the orcs." He grew
quiet and thoughtful, then said, "There is no right choice. If they
have taken the hobbits to Saruman, we will want for help in rescuing
them. We should not let the trail grow cold. And yet it seems we must,
for we cannot leave you behind. I think we must make for Rohan,
though I wish I knew what welcome we would receive."
Legolas and Gimli had returned. Aragorn grasped the shafts of the
arrows and drew them out, then washed and bound the wounds.
"Boromir," he said, "I pray you are not gravely hurt, still I fear
you may yet slip away." His cool finger's stroked Boromir's fiery
brow as the injured man fought to hold sleep at bay.
Boromir smiled. He wrapped his arms around the other man and drew him
down for a kiss that was less than gentle. Aragorn did not resist, but
in a moment he pulled away, saying, "You are not well enough. You must
rest."
"I am already much recovered. Our lives are too uncertain to wait."
He reached out again, feeling his strength return. Aragorn's lips met
his, and this kiss was all hunger and heat. Desperate desire, reined
in for so long, found expression at last. Boromir pulled at Aragorn's
tunic, tasting the skin of his neck and throat, and Aragorn shivered
at the touch of teeth. His hands roamed over Boromir's chest and
shoulders, and though his hands were cool, even through the thin
cloth, his touch was like fire. Boromir moaned with pleasure and
surprised them both with the name he called.
"Elessar."
Aragorn smiled with a touch of wickedness. He tore Boromir's tunic
and flung it away, then trailed kisses down his chest. Boromir drew
ragged breaths, pressing close against the lean strong body in his
arms. At the same time he clutched and tugged at Aragorn's garments in
an unfocused effort to pull them off. Again the ranger smiled. He drew
away and removed his clothing, all save the grey trousers. He
returned and knelt beside Boromir, gazing at him for a moment.
Then Boromir leaned close, breathing deep the scent of his
beloved. He pulled Aragorn down to lie beside him. Eagerly he sought
to learn, by touch and taste, all of his king's secrets. With deft
fingers he explored strong shoulders and smooth flanks, chest and ribs
and belly. Then with lips and teeth, he claimed each realm for
Gondor. Each gasp and moan he counted as a victory.
Venturing further, he slid the trousers down and Aragorn lay naked
and beautiful in the fading firelight, his eyes closed, all trust and
need. Boromir grasped his hips and took him in his mouth, tasting
almost reverently. Aragorn's fingers wove into his hair and a stream
of words poured from his lips, the sounds foreign yet captivating.
Then Boromir swallowed deep, and the grip on his hair tightened to the
edge of pain. After a moment the fingers relaxed, and Aragorn's right
hand sought his, twining their fingers together. Boromir closed his
eyes, overwhelmed by sensation. He could hear only his own racing
heartbeat and the harsh sound of Aragorn's uneven breath as he was
undone by ecstasy.
After that it seemed to Boromir as though he fell a long
way and landed gently on soft ground. As he drifted into pleasant
sleep he knew Aragorn bent over him, kissing him many times and
murmuring words he did not catch, except on one occasion when he spoke
in a voice of command. "Boromir," he said. "Live for me."
Again Boromir awoke, this time to cold, darkness and pain. Every
breath he drew sent waves of agony through him. It was difficult even
to think; yet he knew he must reason and plan. What had become of his
companions and what was to become of him?
The pain was from the arrows. He remembered standing against the
Uruk-hai. He remembered falling. The orcs had taken Merry and
Pippin, but Aragorn had come to his aid. Aragorn was gone, along
with Legolas and Gimli. They must have set off to find the hobbits.
Of course. It was the only choice. They could leave no fire, lest
enemies be drawn to its light. But Aragorn had come to him by the
fire. They had...
No. He now understood clearly that all that had been a dream.
Still, he was loath to consign it to fevered imaginings. The light
kindled in Aragorn's eyes, the sheltering warmth of his embrace -
these memories he would keep and treasure, real or no. Yet they had
never held each other. Never kissed. Never...
It did no good to dwell on that. He would rest a while, then get up
as well as he might and learn what he could of his circumstances.
He found, however, that as he waited, the pain only grew. He was
unable even to sit, unable to move any part save his left hand.
Casting about in the dark, feeling the cold ground beneath him,
brought no answers. He thought that he heard footsteps approaching
and was seized with fear, yet resolved to meet bravely with this doom.
But the sounds faded from his hearing, and his thoughts began to
flow disordered, as water over the falls. He could not draw enough
air with each breath and the darkness seemed to press in on him. As
his reason was breaking, one truth came to his mind. "I have dreamed
it all," he thought. "Not love alone, but rescue also. My companions
did not seek for me, traitor to the quest and to all hope. I have been
many hours dying slowly and here will I lie unmourned."
by
Sparky
ragorn was bleeding. The orcs slashed at him with their blades but
he chose to duck between them and keep running, fighting only when he
must. No thought did he give to pain or consequence, his one
thought to fly to Boromir's aid.
He perceived that he was too late. Boromir lay in a crumpled heap
and orcs charged toward him with weapons raised. Yet hope returned to
Aragorn's heart when his friend rose to engage the attackers.
When next Boromir awoke the sky was dark. He was half wrapped in
his cloak and another lay spread on the ground beside him. His outer
clothes were gone. Faint firelight revealed the form of Aragorn at
his side and made pale glimmers shine from the ranger's watching eyes.
"Welcome back," he said. "I am glad you will live to fight again at
my side," and he bent and kissed him gently on the cheek.
