Aragorn had indeed attempted to eat him and Boromir had put up quite a struggle. Boromir doubted that the bite marks would fade in less than weeks. He sighed in contentment and kissed the perfect indention of his teeth around Aragorn's left nipple, suckling gently. "You make cute noises in your sleep, Aragorn," he whispered and began to kiss his way down his lover's chest. Aragorn muttered something that might have been his steward's name but did not awaken. Boromir continued his ministrations, being careful not to wake Aragorn. He had been so tired lately and the demands on the kingdom were weighing heavily upon her king. Even the Ring could not forestall sleep for this long.
Boromir planted a soft kiss above Aragorn's heart and nuzzled the soft hairs there. He usually enjoyed the fact that Aragorn was a side-sleeper, though it often meant that Boromir ran a real danger of having his king roll on top of him while he was trying to savor Aragorn's flesh. Not that there weren't worse places for Aragorn to be, but still. Aragorn needed his rest.
Boromir paused and frowned. A name, unbidden, had risen in his mind. It was been a name he had heard a guard mention as a name of one of Eomer's guards, but he had thought nothing of it at the time. Now he cursed himself for his stupidity and oversight.
Dernhelm.
Boromir was out of the bed before he realized it and picked up the first pair of leggings he found. They were thankfully his but his fingers refused to listen to his brain. All it could think was 'hurry'. He finally got the laces tied and was pulling on a tunic and jerkin when Aragorn moved on the bed.
"Where you are going?"
"To check on something, my love. I'll be only a moment. Go back to bed."
Instead of obeying (not that Boromir had expected him to), Aragorn rolled over and got out of bed. He repeated Boromir's ritual from before, finding clothing and putting it on, and Boromir could almost feel Aragorn banish all fatigue from his body.
"What's going on, Boromir?"
"One of Eomer's guards answers to 'Dernhelm'," Boromir answered, eyes searching for more proper attire.
"What of it, my love?"
"There has never been a Rider by the name of Dernhelm. It is rather the name shieldmaidens use when they wish to appear as Riders."
"My love, you're going to have to be clearer."
Boromir seemed not to hear him. "But why would Eowyn chance discovery? Why would she come where she knows she is not welcome?" His eyes suddenly glowed and a sneer came over his face. "She's here for Faramir. She will not get him."
"Calm down, Boromir. Tell me what you see," Aragorn demanded, a hint of command in his voice. No matter how far gone Boromir was, he would always respond to a direct order from his king.
"Eowyn is here, my lord," Boromir answered, voice devoid of emotion. "Was here, actually. Something startled her and she has made for the Gate and for a prearranged rendezvous point with her brother and...my brother. There may still be time to stop her." Without waiting for Aragorn’s reply, Boromir opened the door which connected Aragorn's bedroom from the guard’s station. "Beregond," he acknowledged the head guard on duty. "Where are the Rohirrim quartered?"
Beregond seemed startled by the question. "In F Barracks, my lord. It was the only one with a stable."
F Barracks. Boromir felt his dread grow. There was no time to reach F Barracks. "And Eomer King?"
"He is in his quarters, my lord."
"I know that, you fool. *Where* are his quarters?" Boromir asked, silencing the tittering guards with a look.
Beregond flushed. "Well, my lord..."
He's stalling, Boromir realized with a start. First F Barracks, the furthest barrack house from the Palace, and now he was certain that Beregond would pick the furthest quarters in which to place Eomer.
'Boromir. Kill him,' Aragorn's voice ordered. Boromir nodded and turned to the closest guard. "Ingold, give me your sword." The guard unsheathed his sword and handed it to his captain without a word. Boromir tested the sword's balance and point and then lowered it. Without pausing, he approached Beregond, brought the sword to bear, and stabbed the guard. He pulled the sword out and watched dispassionately as Beregond slumped to the floor, blood already seeping out of his dying body. Another stroke and Beregond's head was off. Boromir knelt and wiped Ingold's sword off on Beregond's uniform and then straightened.
"Dispose of the body," he ordered the room, and the guards immediately set to the task of removing the corpse and assigning who was to do what job. With all the confusion, Boromir did not see the running guard until they were almost face to face. He held out a hand to steady the exhausted man.
"Message," the guard panted, face red, "for the king."
"The King is listening," Aragorn said, coming up from behind Boromir.
"Message from the watch at F Barracks. We cannot account for all the Rohirrim, my liege. Mablung is searching for them now and sent me with the missive. He begs you to allow him to sound the alert."
"He has my permission. Take two guardsmen with you and find Eomer King’s quarters. If he is not there, you are to find him and bring him to me to be dealt with, personally. If you cannot find him, prepare the death chamber. Boromir."
"Yes, my liege?"
"I need you to search the Palace. Find Eomer, or as close to him as possible."
Boromir blanched. "My liege..."
"I know you can do it. All that is necessary is for you to believe it. Use the ring I gave you. Find your old friend. If he’ll respond to anyone, he’ll respond to you."
Boromir bowed his head in acquiescence and closed his eyes. He felt himself fall into the connection between his ring and the One, and felt along the connection until he felt the guards standing nervously around him. ‘Eomer,’ his mind whispered. ‘King of the Mark, you are still a Man, and thus bound by this ring. You must answer my summons. You are sworn to another, but this one still holds power. Eomer. Show me where you are.’
"Dungeons," he croaked, and one clammy hand reached out blindly to grasp at Aragorn. Boromir felt himself sway and Aragorn call for a damp cloth, which was laid against his burning forehead.
"You did wonderful, my love." Aragorn’s voice was close against Boromir’s ear. "I have given the order to contain the dungeons and have sent riders after Eowyn. But if you wish to confront Eomer, you need to follow the sound of my voice and return to consciousness. Rest can come with the dawn, dear one. Awaken." Aragorn’s fingers brushed over Boromir’s hand and pressed lightly against his ring. Boromir choked and sat up quickly, hands clutching at Aragorn to anchor himself. He was still dizzy from using too much power. Aragorn had told him he needed to learn how to control it better, and Boromir wished desperately he could command his ring like Aragorn could the One. Perhaps then he wouldn’t have been so weak. Fainting was for children and men who lost blood on the battlefield, not for the Steward of Gondor in his king’s quarters.
"Faramir," he coughed and took a grateful sip from one of the guards’ canteens. "I need to...where is my brother?"
"Don’t be concerned about him. I will take care of Faramir."
"No. Aragorn, no. Please. Let me deal with him."
Aragorn studied his swaying steward for a long moment and Boromir mentally begged him to understand that he wished to make up for this terrible wrong his family had done to his king. Boromir knew he would not rest until he had, even if exhaustion bring him to his knees. Aragorn nodded. "Very well. He’s yours."
Boromir stepped grimly into the cell. Faramir lay on the floor and Eomer was working at the chains with a rusted key. Seeing Boromir, Eomer straightened and Faramir groaned. "Not now, brother. Give us a bit of privacy, if you don’t mind."
Boromir raised an eyebrow. "Outside this room is the king (your king, Eomer) and a host of guards. This is not the best time to be mounted, nor is that the best position in which to do so."
"You should know." Faramir winced as the chain was yanked from the other side of the wall and Boromir knew that to be the signal from the dungeon master that they were surrounded. Faramir would not be able to escape death this time. Eomer moved instinctively to see to his friend but was checked by Boromir’s sword suddenly drawn and at his throat.
"Disarm yourself, Eomer." Eomer made no move to comply. "I shall not tell you again."
"I will not submit."
Boromir laughed. "No one is expecting you to. In fact, I hope you do not. Your pain will be so much more fulfilling if you fight."
"Boromir!"
"You knew what chances you took, and one of the risks was being caught. Already we have riders out. They will overtake Eowyn soon, if they have not already. Face it, Eomer King. You have lost."
"I have triumphed. People will see, Boromir. They will see that they can rebel!"
"They will see what happens to those who do rebel," Boromir corrected.
"I worked alone," Eomer said quickly. "I have no organization."
"You’ll betray them anyway," Boromir said, bemused by Eomer’s attempts to save his friends. Did he truly expect Boromir to believe that a king in rebellion had no one helping him?
"You have no hold over me."
Boromir’s mouth quirked upwards. So Eomer had not noticed Boromir’s intrusion into his mind. Good. "True. But Aragorn does."
"Aragorn never gets his hands dirty."
"He’ll make an exception for you. You are not just a rebel, Eomer, you are a traitor. An oathbreaker." Boromir let that sink in. The Rohirrim prided themselves on always fulfilling any oath they made. They were a proud people and did not take dishonor lightly. Eomer had made a grievous mistake when he allowed himself to be spared and fealty sworn.
Eomer understood his moral peril. His life was forfeit by his own laws if he failed to fulfill a promise made. "I have not raised my hand against the Arathornion."
Boromir’s face hardened at the epithet. Eomer had just condemned himself by his words. Only the rebels referred to Aragorn as the son of his father and not worthy of a name of his own. "By your own words you have proclaimed your guilt. Your. Sword. Eomer." And even though Eomer was sworn to another, the ring of Men had power enough to force Eomer into obedience. Boromir felt his strength drain out of him, but pulled Aragorn’s close presence around him like a cloak. He could not let these traitors see his weakness. Boromir took the proffered sword and studied the jeweled bauble as it was handed to him. More a toy than a weapon and rather poorly forged. Boromir frowned. Eomer was a warrior. How could a warrior allow himself to carry such an inferior blade? "Now your draggers." Boromir said, and broke the sword over his knee.
"I’m not carrying."
"Come, horsemaster, do you think me a fool?"
"You were to follow that madman."
"And you to rebel. Though how do you know if I am not the power behind the throne and Aragorn merely my puppet?"
"You wear a slave ring!"
"I wear a ring of power, taken from the Witchking himself," Boromir corrected. "Daggers, Eomer."
Boromir saw the flash just in time and brought his sword up to deflect the gleaming steal. The daggers thudded bluntly against the wall and broke from the force.
"Poor weaponry, Eomer, shame on you. What would your uncle say?"
"My uncle is dead, thanks to you."
"He would not swear."
"Faramir did not swear and you spared his life."
"A mercy I greatly regret at the moment. Aragorn told me it would not end well. Foolishly, I did not believe him nor heed his words. I was proud enough to believe that *my* family, the family of the *Stewards*, would not deny their rightful king. But, alas, I am not perfect. I made a mistake, one I shall not make again. No, you both will die this night, or wish you could."
"It matters not. We have already triumphed."
"You have already failed." Aragorn spoke a few words into Boromir’s mind, with an added plea to leave the place of danger as quickly as possible. "And Eowyn as well," Boromir went on, ignoring his king’s request. Only if Aragorn made it into an order would he be compelled to obey, on his honor. "Your sister is dead, Eomer King. Would you condemn your wife as well?"
"Lothiriel is your spy."
"Not mine. Aragorn’s, perhaps, but without my knowledge."
"Then why..." Eomer shut his mouth and exchanged looks with Faramir. Boromir was relaxed enough into the power of his ring to interpret the glance without a thought as to why he understood it.
"Perhaps she is loyal to her king, however unfathomable that may sound to you," he said dryly. "Or perhaps she has a lover in the Palace. Her correspondence is her own affair, as is her curiosity. The child?"
Eomer’s head jerked up from his contemplation. "You won’t kill him."
"Worse," Faramir whispered. "They’ll make him hate you. I know my brother’s mind. He can think of no greater revenge than turning the son against the father. The Arathornion started it when he had my brother kill my father, and Boromir, I’m ashamed to say, has taken the lesson to heart."
Boromir ignored his brother. "You are in position to be making threats, Eomer. And you, my dear brother, are in no position to like it or not."
"Boromir believes that if he pretends that we were not friends in the past, that we share no tender memories, then I am of no consequence to his dwindling conscience," Faramir said to Eomer, pulled absently on the chains still manacled to his bruised wrists. "He is in denial that his king will use him and then discard him like he has everyone who ever mattered to him."
"My loyalty is not in question here, Faramir. Eomer’s treachery is."
"I said no such thing, brother. I am stating the fact that Aragorn is a manipulator and once he has no use for you, you will cease to live. You have said as much before my face without realizing that you were speaking of yourself. Aragorn is not worthy of your devotion."
"Who do you think convinced him to take the Ring?"
Faramir’s face whitened. "You-you didn’t, Boromir."
"I did."
"He allowed you to convince him," Eomer said, hesitating for a moment. "He let you talk, all the while moving the conversation around so that you would think you were in control of the conversation. He is a master at that."
"Then you do not know Aragorn. The Ring held no sway over him. It never has and it never will. He was too strong for it to master his will and once he bent it to his will, it cannot go astray. Sauron learned the price of doubting that."
"B-brother..."
"Faramir. And all this time you thought I could be ‘saved’." Boromir resisted the urge to laugh in his brother’s face. Faramir’s expression was almost comical. "Even if you had won, I would never have betrayed my king. You have lost."
"Indeed we have," Faramir said quietly, and Boromir felt something vital die inside his brother. Boromir nodded imperceptibly and called in the guards. He felt Aragorn’s power rush by him and he was pressed against the wall, his king’s hands holding him back and keeping him close.
"Never make me worry like that again," Aragorn growled. "Eavesdropping does not become a king."
"Yes, my liege," Boromir tried for a tired smile and Aragorn’s expression softened.
"Take from my strength, dear one. The night is far from over."
Go to next part.