COMRADES IN ARMS

Part One of 'Of Humans And Elves'

by Janet Elizabeth
E-mail: ishtar@golden.net
Website: http://home.golden.net/~ishtar
Rating: NC-17

Boromir sat in the midst of one of the leafy sun-drenched groves of Rivendell, eyes closed, breathing deeply and lost in thought. He let the sound of the birds in the trees lull him into that semi-dream state his father had taught him to take whenever he had a hard decision to make. And the son of Denethor had a very hard decision to make.

His whole world had been rocked after the Council of Elrond a week ago, with so many announcements. First the almost unbelievable news of Sauruman's treachery and then the riding of the Nazgul over the river. But those were not the most stunning of announcements. As surprised as he had been over the revelation of the halfling possessing Isildur's Bane, he had been more taken aback by that usurper, Aragorn son of Arathorn, and supposed heir of Isildur.

His blood had boiled though he had kept his words courteous and light. How dare this scruffy man, this ranger of the wild lay claim to the bounty that was Minas Tirith. A bounty he and his ancestors had cared for and defended with their lives, and this stranger wanted him to believe he was the king of that fair city. All these generations, the line of kings had been hiding, like mewling children playing a game, while the Stewards of the city ruled. And now, while the Stewards kept the free world safe, this fool out of the north claims it is time for him to return and take back his crown. The worst part being that Elrond and Gandalf were both besotted and taken in by this man's lies! And lies they were! More proof would be needed before Boromir, heir of Denethor and next Steward of Minas Tirith trusted and allowed some dirty northern tramp take over his precious city.

A cry of rage escaped his lips and he smashed his fists onto his knees. The bird song stopped and he held his breath, knowing that he could never reveal these thoughts to anyone here. Because distrust of Aragorn was not his only problem. Before the announcement was made at the council, Boromir had seen Aragorn walking in the glades of Rivendell and had been struck by his beauty. The grim faced man shivered at this remembered thought. He had been sitting quietly, resting after his long journey and sharpening his sword on the balcony outside his room and then he had heard voices; one high and feminine and the other deep and rough.

He had stopped his work and gazed out into the deepening gloaming to see who disturbed his solitude and had found Aragorn and his elven paramour, Arwen Evenstar. They had been walking arm and arm, she leaning into him and though their voices were low, he could hear the intimate words that passed between them. He had flushed at that, remembering how he was so uncomfortable with women and how men of Aragorn's stature were his favorite companions.

As a boy, Boromir had only had the company of other boys. His only female companionship had been the nurses that had cared for him and his brother. But while Faramir had responded well to the motherly ministrations of the women, Boromir had not. He had rejected all women who were not his mother and thus turned toward his father more. But Denethor was not an affectionate man and the young heir of Minas Tirith was left wanting for affection. He had found it in the company of others destined for a warrior's life, and as he grew into manhood, had little to do with the females his friends seemed to so desire. He had little to no interest in the women that his father had sent to him, to make his son a man. Boromir instead found solace in the beauty and love of his company of soldiers. When Osgiliath had fallen and his entire company wiped out, he had grieved for such life and companionship that had been lost to him. He had been glad to take the journey north to Rivendell, if nothing more than to dull the pain of losing his dearest companions. But then there came Aragorn and with him the confusion that now warred within the dour man.

His mind was filled with strange thoughts and his heart and body responded to the Ranger in ways that Boromir had only felt in echoes of other of his warrior companions. He began to have dreams of Aragorn, his stern face and deep-set blue eyes. Whenever he came near him, his body would respond in embarrassing ways, so that he would have to excuse himself as quickly as possible. And when he did get himself alone, he could not seem to make those feelings stop unless he took things into hand and relieved his passions. What was worse was the fact that Boromir was torn in two by these feelings. He knew that some men were lovers of other men, but he could not indulge those needs. He was the heir of Denethor and must someday produce an heir of his own. Still he could not deny the fact that he was haunted by the heir of Isildur in ways he should not be.

And thus, was the base of his terrible decision; to fulfill his commitment to the fellowship as he had given his word to do or to ride away from this place of strange feelings and return to the war where he could at least bury his shame with the bodies of his enemies. He knew that either choice would cause him pain. To leave now would be to show him as faithless and cowardly. But to stay would be sheer torture as he would have to travel for days, weeks and months with his bane looking more and more beautiful to him every day. The lure of the ring was not as strong as the lure of Aragorn.

Boromir sat down again, bowing his head and regaining his center of calm. Moments passed with nothing but the sound of birds and the distant elvish singing that seemed to pervade this place. His breathing slowed and his thoughts began to drift again. An image of Aragorn entered his mind and as he was about to banish it, a familiar voice startled him out of his reverie. His eyes flew open to behold the vision straight from his head. There stood Aragorn, tall and dark haired, no blade at his side and smiling slightly.

"I'm sorry to have troubled your retreat my friend." He said, his voice husky and low. "I'll leave you to your thoughts!"

He turned to go, but Boromir sprang to his feet, his emotions run rampant and fear, love and loathing intermingled on his face. With a snarl he jumped at the other man, knocking them both to the ground. Aragorn's face bore a look of shock, but then he began to struggle with the heavier man on top of him. The two men tussled around a few moments, but Boromir's heavier build put Aragorn at a disadvantage. The bigger man sat astride Aragorn, his feet hooked over his thighs to hold him down, his knees pressing down on his arms and his large hands pressed to the collarbones and thumbs laying on his throat.

"Usurper!" growled Boromir. "You think to take my inheritance from me. Isildur's heir is a fool if he believes that I will just step aside for his silly claim to the greatest city of the third age!"

Aragorn gazed with disbelief at the bigger man, not yet afraid for his life but also with sorrow and pity for this driven soul who's pain he had some part in.

"I would take nothing from you that was not due me and would give you more in return for the gift of your allegiance." Said Aragorn softly. "I would you were rather my comrade in arms, and my stoutest supporter, than mine enemy and outcast."

Emotions warred across Boromir's face, as he began to press his thumbs against the windpipe of the man beneath him. If Aragorn were to die, then his pain would pass. There would be no conflict of hate and desire. But as he gazed into his adversary's eyes, hate began to give way and desire to build. His grip loosened and his muscles relaxed. He moved his hands, trembling from the throat of the man beneath him, gently caressing up his jawline and onto the cheekbones. Tears welled up in his eyes as Aragorn's arms were released from the prison of Boromir's knees. His vision blurred and then he felt hands caress his own face tenderly and wipe the tears away.

"I am sorry..." stammered the son of Denethor. "My demons do us both injustice and I am undone by them. I owe you my allegiance and yet I am afraid. Will you forgive me, Aragorn?"

Aragorn pushed himself into a half sitting position, allowing Boromir's body to bestride his lap. He put his arms around the weeping man and held him carefully and soothed him. Moments passed as the bigger man regained himself and began to rise from his perch atop his newfound liege. He was stopped by the strong arms of Aragorn. Wonder passed over his features as Boromir looked askance at the other man.

"You are not the only one conflicted and I deem that we have both had similar childhoods." Came the husky voice of the future king of Gondor. "Like calls to like and I have heard your call. I see no shame in love of many kinds."

Aragorn reached up and brushed the hair from Boromir's eyes. The big man shivered and took his liege's face into his hands. Aragorn did the same and in the space of a breath, their lips met, tongues searching for each other's mouths. An experienced mouth traveled the country of virgin lips, seeking its warm wetness, teasing it into bolder and bolder acts. Hands roamed over strong arms and muscled chests, teasing and tender. Fingers found and fumbled over fastenings, carefully caressing the hardened manhood beneath. The two men nestled into each other's embrace, their passion overcoming all other senses.

An eternity passed of wet lips and caressing hands and then both men were unclothed. Boromir, trembling with desire and fear put a hand upon his lover's chest and looked deeply into his eyes.

"I have never allowed this of myself!" came his hoarse voice, filled with wanting. "I do not know what you need of me."

"I need you to be mine, in all things, including this." Came the husky voice of Aragorn.

Then the heir of kings leaned into the heir of stewards and began to make love to him. His touch was gentle as their bodies mingled, and nothing disturbed their tryst, as if the world knew that this was to be so. And as hardened manhood entered into tender places, and cries of release were freed from hiding, there was a bonding of the two men with a depth like the mines of Moria. When the passion was spent to their satisfaction, they lay in each other's arms.

Boromir gazed shyly at Aragorn, stroking his cheek. Aragorn gazed back at him, a slight smile playing about his lips. He leaned in for a single soft kiss and then began to pull away, gathering their clothes. Boromir followed his lead, knowing that this moment had passed, but hopeful of others. After they had dressed and were suitable for other company they held each other again for a brief moment.

"You know we cannot tell the others." Came Aragorn's silky voice. "I am not ashamed but it would not be seemly for either of us. This is something we can share, in private. Do you understand?"

Boromir hesitated before he answered.

"Yes, I understand better than you think. And I will abide this choice, but not until I extract a promise from you that this is not the last. I would not give up this joy!" he said roughly.

Aragorn smiled and kissed him softly. "I would not give it up either and so shall we not!" said the lean man. "We must go back to the hall separately. Until we are on the road, we must keep this discreet."

He pulled away and with a lingering touch on Boromir's arm he slipped away through the trees in the direction of the house. Boromir stood there a few moments longer, his thoughts lingering over the joy he had been given.

"I will also wait to tell you of my love, Aragorn son of Arathorn and Isildur's heir! But I will tell you someday, sooner than you think!" he muttered and smiled to himself, before setting off toward the house through the trees.

THE END


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