Title: Tick
Author: Dragongrrl
Email: l_dragon@bellsouth.net
Pairings: A/B B/H A/L
Ratings: R - NC17
Summary: Aragorn is torn between liking Boromir and distrusting him when a tiny
intruder causes some new complications.
Disclaimer: No disrespect or theft intended.
Author's Note: Movieverse, mostly, from just outside Lothlorien to the end of TTT.
Beta - Jennifer M (shapedfromsin) Thanks girl!


Chapter 1: Tick

Aragorn leaned his head back against the cold, uneven stone. The company had been
forced to stop and he had chosen to rest in the harshest spot the lovely, green
glade had to offer. He had picked the spot the same way he chose everything else in
his life. With his heart. And his heart was not interested in allowing him comfort. 

His mind was wiser. His mind knew that he was not at fault for what had happened.
But his heart, the heart that expected him to protect all things good in this world.
That heart was filled with self-blame. 

He protected his eyes from the low-riding sun and turned his vision inside himself.
Gandalf. Aragorn’s mind winced at the thought of his name. Gandalf… was gone. Never
did he think to live in a world without Mithrandur. He looked around the lush
woodland just outside Lorien and the feeling inside of him stayed as cold and barren
as the slopes of Carahdras. 

It was a crueler world now, he thought bleakly. A world less worthy to be saved. He
shook his head to fling such t
houghts from his head, even though he knew they would remain in his heart. There
could be no distractions now. 

You must be the leader, he told himself. You must carry out what he began. The Ring
must go forth; the Bearer must be protected. In war there are losses. His fingers
closed around the Evenstar gleaming at his throat. Grievous losses, he thought.

He gathered himself and rose smoothly to his feet, irritation puckering his brow. No
distractions. Just delays. Where in the Realm of Dwarves and Dragons was Haldir? How
long could it possibly take to get permission for them to cross into Lothlorien?
Celeborn was no fool. He must know that they had to get through for the quest to be
successful. He couldn’t want the alternative. And surely Galadriel knew that Elrond
was behind them. He sighed. Not letting them in made no sense. 

He looked around for his companions to see how the wait was affecting them. The
Hobbits sat together, Sam, Merry and Pippin huddled around Frodo, tears in their
eyes and on their faces. Gimli and Legolas stood close by them, staring blankly in
different directions. Only Boromir was on the move. 

Aragorn’s eyes narrowed as he watched the man prowl the site, his shoulders hunched,
the hands at his sides clenching and unclenching as if grasping at something.
Aragorn thought he knew what that something could be. Not the Ring, he felt, despite
what happened up on the mountain. No, this time Boromir was grasping at the same
thing Aragorn longed to grasp. What they all wanted to grasp. The hand of
Mithrandur. Boromir was a soldier like Aragorn. He would not like to lose.

A flush of liking, almost of affection, toward Boromir arose in him at the thought.
It was times like this that the big man’s ways teased at Aragorn. Getting to know
Boromir was rather like getting to know a side of himself of which he’d always been
ashamed. Aragorn had lived with Elves all his life. He’d always felt deficient next
to his lovely, graceful Rivendell kin. The Rangers were men, but they tended to work
alone. Boromir was the first man Aragorn had been exposed to for any real length of
time, and he was finding it intriguing to associate with another human. Maybe
knowing Boromir would help him understand a bit more why Arwen loved him as she did.

Arwen. As ever the thought of her name sent a cyclone of love, pride, and need
twisting through him. He wondered if he had lost her. He doubted it. Arwen did what
she thought best and although it was possible that her father’s desire that she go,
coupled with Aragorn’s encouragement, could have swayed her, it was equally possible
that if he managed to encompass this quest she would be there at journey’s end
waiting for him still. He didn’t know which ending he hoped for more. Whichever
would be better for her, he thought; he knew which would be better for him. 

He closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment to miss her fiercely. She too loved
Mithrandur. She too would miss him. The pain in his heart doubled and felt
unendurable.

He reopened his eyes and Boromir ranged past him again, this time muttering to
himself. 

“... so useless.” 

The words drifted back from him as he passed. He stopped just beyond Aragorn as if
he felt his regard. The Ranger watched the blond head tilt then an emerald glitter
flashed his way and disappeared.

“Useless, Aragorn, that’s how I feel,” he said, with his head turned away as if
ashamed. “How could one so vital to our task have been lost.” 

Boromir’s words touched off more pain, but beneath it there was again that glow of
affection as the warrior confirmed Aragorn’s suspicions of what he was feeling. 

“Not all of Gondor -or Middle Earth itself- could have saved him,” he told the man,
wishing his own heart could hear his words. Again the green eyes flicked at him and
again the head turned away, but Aragorn was rewarded by a decrease in the restless
movement of the man’s hands. He watched as the tousled head slowly turned his way
yet a third time, and Aragorn read hesitation in the eyes of the normally
self-assured man.

“I couldn’t have let Frodo go out onto the bridge, eh Aragorn? He... I... we
couldn’t have saved him... could we?”

Aragorn felt a jab of compassion. No wonder the man seemed so restless. “No,
Boromir.” He leaned forward in his eagerness to convince the man. “It was too
dangerous. You did well. You did what I could not. You speak of your uselessness
when I couldn’t move. I was lost until you called to me. You pulled me back from the
brink as well as Frodo, my friend.”

Boromir looked surprised and momentarily gratified at the last word. Then the
anxious, harried look returned and he wandered off to pace anew. Aragorn pursed his
lips and leaned his hip against the rock behind him. Evidently there was more
bothering Boromir than his words alone could ease. 

Suddenly Boromir stopped pacing and sat down near the Hobbits, looking over at Frodo
uncertainly. Aragorn’s lips tightened as his protective instincts were aroused and
he edged closer to the little group. Then he saw Haldir returning. He turned toward
the Elf, searching his face as he approached. But Haldir’s face was remote, and his
eyes were hooded. Aragorn could not read him at all. 

And he still wouldn’t let them go any further. Aragorn argued with him, noticing out
of the corner of his eye, Boromir speak briefly to Frodo then get up and wander off
into another part of the wood. Frodo stared after him in grateful surprise. Aragorn
wondered what Boromir had said to him. Then Haldir distracted him again as he
addressed the entire group.

“Come with me,” he said and led them a short way on into a more open area. There he
stopped. “You are to rest here for the remainder of the night.” His chill voice hung
in the chill air. “In the morning we will see,” his eyes gleamed as a rapier-glance
of distaste flicked out toward Gimli, then with a blink, his face was impassive
again, “if you may enter Lothlorien to meet with the Lord and Lady.” 

From across the clearing Aragorn saw Legolas roll his shoulders forward and take a
protective step closer to Gimli. Hmm, he thought with a hidden smile, it seemed not
all of Elvendom was anti-dwarf these days. 

Haldir continued. “I will leave you now to return at first light.” He nodded
reverently to Legolas who had spoken to him earlier with friendliness. Now he merely
watched him steadily. For a moment Haldir looked uncertain, then his expression grew
cold again. “Farewell,” he said and with a golden flick of hair, he was gone.

The Hobbits, all but Frodo, got up and with Gimli and Legolas, began to set up camp.
Frodo still sat, curled, his head resting on his knees. Aragorn walked over to him. 

“Frodo?” he said, squatting down in front of him. The Hobbit lifted his head and
looked at him somberly. “What did Boromir say to you before he left?”

The sadness softened a bit in Frodo’s face. “He said that Gandalf’s fall was not my
fault. He told me not to carry the weight of the dead.”

Aragorn’s heart warmed even more to the other man. “He’s right,” he said and put his
hand on Frodo’s shoulder, rubbing it bracingly. Frodo regarded him blankly. 

Aragorn stood up and watched in concern as Frodo’s head sank back onto his knees. He
looked so small and tense. Aragorn shivered at the sight of him. He needed a fire,
he realized suddenly. They all did. He cursed himself for not building one before
this. He wondered if Boromir could have gone after firewood, then realized the man
did not know they had moved. He threw together some wood that lay around in the
clearing then headed off into the brush to find the other man. He wanted to tell him
the news and get more wood, in case that wasn’t why he had disappeared.

He padded silently through the scrub in the direction he had seen Boromir go,
gathering small twigs and mosses for tender as he went. In a short time, the trees
thinned and he came upon a clearing that was made by a sheet of still, dark water.
Aragorn gasped. Boromir was there, spotlighted by the full moon, naked, thigh-deep
in water, splashing his chest and lower parts generously with liquid. 

Admiration flared in Aragorn’s eyes as he watched the man. Anyone who could
nonchalantly spatter water that Aragorn /knew/ was colder than Haldir’s welcome to
Gimli on his tenderest parts earned Aragorn’s respect. Aragorn did not like cold
water. He would rather just stay dirty. And since Arwen was not there, that would
not be a problem. He turned to leave the man to his rugged cleansing. He would get
the fire going back at camp, then find Boromir again.

“Ah, Frodo.” 

The softly breathed words floated over the water freezing Aragorn in his turn. He
twisted back and squatted down again. Was Frodo out here too then? His eyes explored
the area, his ears searching for any sound. No. He wasn’t anywhere that Aragorn
could detect. So why had Boromir spoken his name? He waited in his crouch, hoping
for something more to explain the mystery, but Boromir waded out of the water,
stripping moisture from his limbs with his hands and flinging droplets everywhere as
he shook out his hair. Aragorn rose from his cover, his movement attracting
Boromir’s attention.

“Aragorn,” he said absently. “What news?”

Aragorn nodded to the man and resolved to keep a tight eye on him. He might be
growing to like Boromir, but he wasn’t going to let him get in the way of the
mission of the Fellowship. 



The moon had set by the time Aragorn’s watch ended, and in the intense darkness that
comes just before dawn, the only light available was that of the banked and
smoldering fire. Using that and his night sight Aragorn found his way to Legolas who
awoke at a feather-touch, gathering his bow to take his turn on watch. Aragorn did
his usual scout around the fire, checking on the sleepers. All he could see of Frodo
was one dark curl peeking out of his blanket. The other Hobbits lay in a row beside
him, hairy feet sticking out in the night air. Gimli snored loudly into his beard
and Boromir… was nowhere to be found. Reflexively, Aragorn glanced back at the
bundle that contained Frodo, again taking in that lone curl. 

So. Where could he be and why? It couldn’t have been just to relieve himself. He had
been gone far too long for that.

Although he knew the soldier could take care of himself, Aragorn decided to find him
anyway. He must have left during Gimli’s watch because no one had stirred during
his. That meant he’d been gone for at least two hours. Perhaps he needed someone to
talk to and Aragorn could get some answers. He lit a small torch and stole softly to
Legolas’s side. 

“Aragorn?” Legolas nodded to him as he approached.

“Boromir is not with the others,” he replied.

“Yes, I heard him go, just before Gimli’s watch ended.”

“Hm,” Aragorn scowled. “I wonder why I did not.”

Legolas grinned. “Age perhaps?”

Aragorn glared at the smiling Elf and did not answer. Legolas swallowed his amusement. 

“Perhaps Boromir prefers to sleep deeper among the trees.”

“Without a blanket? He is no Elf to ignore the cold of the night. I’m going to go
look for him.”

“You fear he’s in danger?” He looked meaningfully at Aragorn. “Or do you fear he
/is/ a danger?”

Aragorn’s eyes flew up to meet the shrewd glance of the Elf. “I heard him, at the
pool tonight . . . ” he told Legolas. “He spoke Frodo’s name.”

“Frodo’s name? Ah, Carahdras. The Ring again?”

“That is my fear.”

“And you would know.”

Aragorn nodded.

“Good hunting, my friend,” Legolas smiled. Aragorn turned and disappeared into the
brush.



He found Boromir in the first place he looked. At the pool, leaning against a tree.
Aragorn carefully chose a twig and stepped on it to announce his presence. At first
Boromir didn’t even seem to hear. Then as Aragorn began to move again, he spoke.

“The Elf is on duty, so you must be the Ranger,” he said quietly without turning.
“If you wish to bathe, I could go.”

“Smoke?” Aragorn was filling his pipe. He ignored the bath offer. Boromir waved his
hand to decline. Uninvited, Aragorn then sat down next to him and used the torch to
light his pipe. He jabbed the end of the brand in the mud and looked over at the
flickering profile of his companion. He sucked on the end of his pipe wishing he
could suck what he wanted from Boromir as easily. Boromir looked at him
unemotionally. Aragorn smiled at him in determination and asked him silently, Why
did you say his name? 

“What brings you here, Ranger, if not to bathe?” Boromir asked.

“I came out for a smoke. I didn’t expect anyone else would be out at this hour.”

Boromir shook his head and laughed. “I’m certain you noticed I was gone Ranger, and
came out to find me.”

Aragorn drew on his pipe once again. “Perhaps,” he acknowledged. They sat quietly
for several minutes then Boromir made a move to rise saying, “In the morning then.”
Aragorn placed his hand on his shoulder to prevent him from rising intending to try
to talk to the man when his attention was caught unexpectedly. 

In the light of the flickering torch Aragorn had seen a small movement under the
fringe of hair on Boromir’s forehead, right along the hairline. A tick! A tick was
about to escape into the denser locks of hair to disappear forever. Aragorn’s desire
to draw out Boromir was lost in his determination to get that tick. Aragorn did
/not/ like ticks. 

"Hold Boromir,” he said turning toward him in determination. He left one hand on the
man’s shoulder and slid the fingers of the other into Boromir’s hair right behind
the escaping bug. He could feel the little vermin running, just ahead of the tips of
his fingers, but he couldn’t quite catch up to it. He closed his eyes and focused
all of his concentration onto his task, his breath quickening, his lips parting
slightly in his preoccupation. 



Meanwhile, Boromir was having a host of feelings about the events unfolding by the
quiet pool. His initial feeling was one of triumph. He had expected to be missed
from the campsite. Had intended to be. Had intended to be followed out to the
water’s edge. Had intended it to be Aragorn. Had intended him to stop him from
leaving. Boromir had enticed Aragorn out here to talk. Boromir wanted the Ring to go
to Minas Tirith and he wanted Aragorn to be the first one he convinced. He figured
if he could persuade him, then Aragorn would take care of the others.

However, after the Ranger’s hand fell on his shoulder, events seemed to get away
from Boromir. At the first introduction of Aragorn’s fingers into his hair, Boromir
started heavily despite Aragorn’s command to sit still. He turned his head to stare
at the Ranger and saw Aragorn, leaning forward, his eyes closed, his lips slightly
parted. Boromir’s eyes widened in shock. 



Aragorn’s brows snapped together when he felt Boromir’s head turn. The movement had
almost made him lose track of the tick. However in his eager rush to recapture its
trail, he managed, in a happy accident, to place his fingers directly on the
creature and in excitement, gripped it tightly between his thumb and forefinger. But
his crow of triumph never got past his lips as a sudden hard pressure on his face
and chest bowled him over into the grass. His eyes flew open, wondering what in
Mordor was going on and found Boromir on top of him kissing him passionately. He
wrenched his mouth to one side, breaking the kiss, barely managing in his surprise
to hang on to his tiny prisoner. Meanwhile, Boromir was looking at him in astonished
delight.

“I never expected… I wouldn’t have thought…” the man stopped and blushed. “I... I
didn’t think that you could ever feel about me the way… well the way I feel about
you…” He turned his head away. “I wanted you from the first when I saw you seated
there at Rivendell, looking so remote and untouchable. I thought of you so much that
night, but I knew... well... I thought... then, that you were not like me. That I
had no chance. And I saw your Elf-princess and I was in despair. But then the next
day when the Elf said… that you were who you are… well, I must still have been
hoping... because I felt such pain. As if I had lost the world. And I said those
things because I was angry and... Oh! I don’t know what I’m saying.” He laughed and
moved in to kiss Aragorn again.

Aragorn’s eyes opened wide as Boromir’s lips sealed themselves to his. He allowed
the kiss, uncertain of how to expose this embarrassing misunderstanding without
alienating the man. And also because his attention was being distracted by where
Boromir was putting his hands. 

Aragorn wriggled around trying to defend the sensitive areas that were being
ruthlessly explored by the hands of the Gondorian, while maintaining his hold on the
struggling tick he still held between his fingers. Boromir’s lips moved
distractingly on top of his, and then a tongue was probing his mouth, softly,
ardently.

Then Boromir stretched himself atop the other man, using his weight to push him down
onto his back, grinding his crotch seductively into him. To the Ranger’s alarm, he
felt a growing hardness in the other man’s breeches. It was well past time to call a
halt to this, Aragorn thought in panic. 

One of Boromir’s hands had somehow found its way into his tunic and was stroking and
rubbing his chest in a most disturbing manner and the kiss was finally broken off,
but in favor of licking and biting Aragorn’s neck. Aragorn felt unable to cope with
such a multi-leveled attack and looked around in desperation, trying to find a
distraction. He looked to the East and saw the first streaks of morning sunlight. 

“Boromir!” He gasped, as he felt yet another hand at the strings of his breeches.
How many hands could the beshadowed man have, he wondered, as he used his body to
try to gently throw the other man off of him. 

“Yes,” Boromir breathed, evidently enjoying the feeling of Aragorn’s movements
beneath him. “What is it you wish? Tell me and I’ll…” 

“Dawn,” Aragorn broke in hastily, panting in his desire to escape. “It is dawn. The
Company… the others will be looking for us. We must stop.”

“By Sauron’s hand,” Boromir swore. “What cruel timing.” He paused and then as if
unable to stop himself, dipped his head for another kiss. 

Suddenly over Boromir’s shoulder, Aragorn saw the astounded blue-eyed stare of
Legolas. He caught the Elf’s eye with his own and saw him start, drop his gaze and
begin to turn away. Aragorn’s eyes widened and his hands began to wave in an
agitated signal behind the head of the man who was busily exploring his mouth again
with his tongue. Legolas paused and Aragorn then began making come hither motions
with his hands. To Aragorn’s helpless rage, Legolas began to smile, then to grin,
and was starting to shake in silent laughter when Boromir finally released the man.
The Elf ducked out of sight as the two men scrambled to their feet. 

Boromir looked ruefully at Aragorn and executed a little squatting step as if
encouraging his excitement to subside. Aragorn could feel himself looking wildly at
the other man and was trying to school his features into a nonchalant expression
when Boromir leaned forward /again/ to brush his lips in a lightly sucking kiss.

“Until later,” he murmured softly into Aragorn’s mouth.

/Later!/ Aragorn thought in horror. 

“Aragorn!”

He whirled at Legolas’s call. 

“Did you find Boromir?” Legolas asked grinning. “The Elves are back and the company
is ready to depart.”

Boromir turned toward Legolas and behind him, Aragorn rolled his eyes at Legolas,
irritated with his amusement. Legolas ignored him and inclined his head for Boromir
to go before him then fell into step beside Aragorn. Aragorn tried to outstrip the
amused Elf, but had to slow down again as he would have run over Boromir just ahead
of them. He chose to ignore the laughter on his friend’s face and strode along
behind Boromir wondering what in Middle Earth he was going to do about “later.”
Legolas leaned over and whispered in barely contained glee, “Discover anything new
from Boromir, Aragorn?”

Aragorn glared and marched on past him. As he left, he lifted his fingers to look at
the tick he still held between them. 

'It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a
thing,’ ” he quoted ironically to himself, crushing the little beast between the
tips of his fingers then wiped them clean on his breeches.               


Chapter 2: Tick, Tick


Aragorn stood with the rest of the Fellowship as Galadriel and Celeborn descended
the radiant stair. He heard the silent voice of the enchantress in his head, probing
his thoughts, testing his resolve. It was a test he passed easily, as did all of the
Eight save one. Aragorn took note of the strain on Boromir’s face. As the Company
was being led away, he fell into step beside Legolas. 

“If your amusement at my expense has passed...?” he said with a touch of bitterness.
Legolas’s face remained suitably grave under Aragorn’s scrutiny. If he smiled at
all, it was internally. Aragorn felt satisfied that he would no longer tease about
this... this... tangle in which he was trapped.

“He expects there to be a ‘later,’ ” Aragorn said tensely. “What can I say to him?
How do I explain? You should have seen him Legolas. He was so happy when he thought
that I wanted him, he was almost gay.”

“You never did explain how it was that this, er, ‘misunderstanding’ occurred. Where
did he get the idea that you...?”

Aragorn scowled. “There was a tick.”

“A what?” Legolas asked startled.

“A tick. I am certain that Elves never get ticks but surely you know what a tick is?”

“I... yes, of course I do. And where was this tick?”

“It was crawling into his hair.” He looked over at Legolas who was obviously
struggling again not to laugh. 

“Hair?” Legolas gasped eventually. “Hair, where?”

“On his head. This is /not/ why I came to you, Legolas, to hear you jest with me. I
need your help. I know not what to do.”

Legolas squared his shoulders and seemed to put his mirth behind him.

“I will tell him if you wish it.”

Aragorn frowned at this. It was an attractive thought, but... “No. I must tell him
myself. It would not be right to use him thus. But would you try to find out why he
spoke Frodo’s name as he did.”

“Why does that yet disturb you?” Legolas asked in exasperation. It seemed the least
important of loose ends. “We already suspect that he desires the Ring. We now know
that he desires men. Frodo is a comely lad. Perhaps the Warrior desires the Bearer
as much as what he bears.”

Aragorn’s frown deepened and he shook his head in certainty. “He spoke to me as if I
was the only one he wanted. I don’t think him capricious. It was not for love that
he sighed.”

“He was naked in a pool.”

“He was bathing. That is not the riddle’s answer, Legolas.”

“Aragorn, you almost sound...”

“What?”

“Nothing. I will do what I can to uncover the truth of your puzzle, my friend. And I
will leave the breaking of his heart to you.” Aragorn glared at him a moment
suspecting the Elf of irony, but Legolas looked steadily back. Finally Aragorn’s
eyes dropped. They had reached the end of the stair and the two parted to help the
others set up camp beneath the roots of the Mallorn tree.



Sam finished declaiming his rhyme about Gandalf’s rockets and sat down in
frustration to castigate his muse. Aragorn looked across the makeshift camp to
Boromir sitting far away from the rest. He squared his shoulders. Now was as good a
time as any, he thought and walked over to where he sat.

“Take some rest,” he began. “These borders are well protected.” He watched in
surprise and concern as pain played across the man’s face. He listened as Boromir
vowed he would find no rest there and why. Galadriel’s voice had sounded in
Boromir’s head as well. But he had not been at ease with her words. Aragorn sat down
beside him, touched by his suffering. He listened as Boromir, in a just a few words,
poured out his heart about his Father and his place as a son of Gondor. Aragorn
understood how it felt to let a father down. He often felt that he was letting down
two of them. Eventually he left Boromir and wound his way to Legolas’s side.

“You tell him,” he said in depression. “I find that I cannot.” Legolas nodded and
Aragorn left him, immersed in his own sense of failure.



Boromir stood alone in the Wood, trying to drink of the peace and beauty of
Lothlorien. He was failing miserably. Perhaps he would try to sleep after all. He
had hoped that Aragorn would come to him again, but he had watched him bed down and
realized that he would not be invited to join him tonight. So he had gone for a walk
to try to calm his disordered heart. He recognized that Lothlorien would be a
difficult place for Aragorn to tryst in, what with a prescient relation of his
Beloved in the vicinity. But his heart leaped when in the corner of his eye he
noticed a figure approaching. He turned.

“Arag...” he began joyfully, then recognized the lithe figure approaching him. “Oh,
Legolas. Cannot you sleep?”

“I can, but I have a duty to perform before I do.”

“I cannot imagine that there would be a need for duties in this place. Surely we
don’t require a watch here.” He smiled. Legolas paused a moment and then smiled in
return. Then his face became solemn.

“I am here to speak to you for Aragorn,” he said. The smile faded from Boromir’s
lips as a feeling of dread jolted him. 

“I cannot imagine what Aragorn would need for you to say to me,” he said, his lips
stiff with discomfort. 

“I believe that you can,” Legolas replied carefully.

Boromir grimaced. “His feelings have altered.”

“No.”

Hope surged in Boromir’s breast. “Then he still...”

“No.” The Elf looked sadly at the man. “He never.”

“What do you mean? He... I... we... er, shared...”

“I know. Aragorn is... a kindly man. But he loves the Evenstar, Boromir. He has
never, in the many years that I have known him, wavered in that devotion.” 

Legolas’s words struck Boromir as piercingly as one of his arrows would have. He
looked up and saw the Elf wince and realized the devastation he was feeling must be
showing on his face. He reined in his grief and smoothed out his features.

“I can only assume that you know what you’re saying,” he replied without expression,
“as he has obviously sent you to me. I do not understand why he didn’t feel he could
tell me himself.”

“He didn’t wish to hurt you.”

“Ah,” Boromir said and rolled his eyes.

“Yes, well,” Legolas smiled. “Perhaps he did not think that out very clearly.”

Boromir turned away from the Elf. Then said with an effort at nonchalance.“Well, now
that you have delivered his message, you can retire with a clear heart.”

“Hardly that. The news was reluctantly given.”

Boromir dropped his head and laughed bitterly. “Apparently not by him.”

“No. He just didn’t know how.” Legolas paused. “Perhaps there is another who could
give you what you need. Another who attracts you?” 

Boromir shook his head. “I need no other. There is no other.”

“No?” Legolas asked probingly. Boromir turned his head in surprise at the Elf’s
persistence. Then he raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

Legolas looked taken aback. He evidently hadn’t realized how he sounded. “No,” he
smiled. “I am not offering myself. I only wondered if there was another.”

“Who?” Boromir laughed. “Gimli?”

"You would indeed be fortunate if that were the case,” Legolas answered seriously,
to Boromir’s surprise, as he had been speaking facetiously. “I was thinking more of
Frodo.”

“Frodo! Is he then...”

“Oh, I do not know.”

“Then why...?”

“You were heard, while bathing, sighing his name.”

Boromir grimaced in annoyance. Had he no privacy within this group? “Who...?” he
began and then as he realized the obvious answer, “Aragorn?” then, as another
thought struck him. “Is that why he...?”

Legolas shrugged. Boromir sighed, then decided to answer him. What, after all, could
it matter?

“I was merely thinking about how small and helpless Frodo was. How innocent. How it
saddened me to see him burdened thus. I meant nothing... lustful.”

“Aragorn thought not as well,” Legolas admitted. “The lust was entirely my idea.”
The two sat quietly together for a moment, then Boromir rose. 

“Well, now that you’ve discovered all of what you came to find.” He paused. “You
have discovered all?” Legolas nodded uncomfortably. “Yes. Then you can go and report
to him. Let him know that he is safe from me, as is Frodo.”

Legolas stood. “I’m sorry, Boromir.” He left him. Boromir watched as he disappeared
into the greenery then he curled up within himself and gave himself over to his
pain. He had never felt so alone in his life.



Aragorn felt someone squat beside him as he lay in the darkness. His eyes flew open
and found Legolas looking down at him.

“I thought you would want to know, I have spoken with him.”

Aragorn sat up. “So soon?” he asked. “He was... unhappy?”

Legolas shrugged. “He was, but he hid it well. I asked him about Frodo, who, by the
way, is not in his blanket.”

“He left with Galadriel. Did you think I would not have heard him go?”

“I knew I would have,” Legolas smiled. “I was unsure about you.”

Aragorn suppressed a sudden desire to shove the Elf over onto his rear. After all,
Legolas had information he wanted. “So what did he say? Not that he wanted Frodo?”

“No. You were right about that.”

Aragorn felt rather smug. He thought he knew Boromir better than that. “So?”

“So, he was musing.”

“Musing? About what?”

“The innocence of Hobbits. Even Hobbits who have the weight of the world around
their necks.”

Aragorn nodded in relief. “That’s all right then. However he would still bear
watching. Do you agree?”

Legolas nodded and Aragorn stretched out again. “Thank you, Legolas.” The Elf
retired to his own place under the tree. Later, both of them heard Frodo when he
returned. But neither heard Boromir return because he did not come back.



The Company was to stay several days in Lothlorien, which all knew after they met
with the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. Boromir did not return the next day
either. Aragorn’s relief had now completely evaporated. He knew Boromir would come
back when it was time for them to go, but he felt horribly responsible for the pain
the man was in now. He began to track him through the Wood. He knew they had to
talk.

Aragorn had gone perhaps two miles into the Wood when he heard sounds of laughter.
One of the people laughing was Boromir. Aragorn was certain of it. He was surprised
by how annoyed he felt at the sound. Here he was, worried that he had really broken
Boromir’s heart and the man was out here amusing himself... with someone else. Then
he began to laugh at himself. He should be glad that Boromir had found another. This
trip was long and arduous. They must take their rest where it was offered. 

He began to slip away, to leave the man in his haven, when a thought intruded. Who
was Boromir’s, er, friend? The more he thought about it, the more it bothered him.
He had to know, he decided. As leader of the Company, he needed to know if alliances
were forming that might compromise their mission. He would just ascertain the
identity of the other, then slip away again. Then he would know if he would have
something else to worry about. 

He slid silently up the hill that was between him and the voices. The laughter had
stopped and other sounds had taken its place. Aragorn’s head carefully cleared the
top of the hill and he looked down into the corrie that held two figures. Two naked
figures. Boromir and... the long blond hair of his partner slipped to the side and a
cold blue eye locked its gaze in his. He should have known an Elf would hear his
approach. Haldir smirked at the Ranger and then bent his head to the lips of the man
in his arms. Aragorn slipped back down the hill and left the two to their bonding.



Boromir had slept alone in the Lorien Wood the first night after Legolas spoke to
him about Aragorn. He had awoken stiff and miserable the next day still unwilling to
return to the others. He didn’t want to see Legolas, couldn’t bear to see Aragorn,
and was even a bit uncomfortable seeing Frodo, considering what the leaders of the
Company had thought of him and the attractive Hobbit. 

But he was hungry. And thirsty. And was uncertain of what to do about either without
returning to the camp. He sat silently, putting off the inevitable, knowing he would
have to go back soon when a sound caused him to start, spring to his feet, and whirl
around.

“You must like solitude as much as I,” the haughty voice observed. “Are you tired of
your companions that you avoid them so thoroughly?”

“Damnably tired of them,” Boromir replied wearily. “But about to be driven back to
them by the need of food and drink.”

“There is no need to return just for that,” Haldir said. “I can help you with those
needs here. Then you can enjoy your isolation in peace.”

Boromir smiled at the Elf. It was the first smile he had felt like giving since the
embarrassing confusion with Aragorn. 

“You have a nice smile,” Haldir said, smiling in return. Boromir just stared in
surprise at the change that came over the Elf’s face when he dropped his ice and was
friendly. 

“So do you,” Boromir said and felt a stir of interest awaken inside of him. He felt
his face flush and noticed Haldir’s eyes dilate in reply. All at once, he found he
was no longer hungry. At least, not for food. 

Suddenly Haldir leaped toward Boromir who stepped up and met him full on. Boromir
was not one given to impulsive couplings, but he was lonely, confused, and
heart-sore. And Haldir /was/ a beauty. And he wasn’t one of the sacred Fellowship,
so it was no one’s business but his own what he did with the Elf. Not even
Aragorn’s. He could wall the Ranger out with the golden light of Lorien after all.
So he caught the Elf’s full-bodied rush with his own and their lips met in a
crushing kiss. He gripped Haldir’s tunic, pulling him tight against his legs and
hips. Haldir hissed his enjoyment and twisted, easily taking the man with him down
to the ground.

“You are stronger than you look,” Boromir said, gasping from underneath him. 

“And you are softer,” the Elf laughed and writhed against the soldier. He leaned
forward to lick the lips of his opponent. Boromir caught the questing tongue between
his lips and tried to suck it into his mouth, but Haldir eluded him, rolling off the
top of him and disappearing into the brush in a twinkling.

Boromir groaned and lay his head back down against the ground. He didn’t want to
have to chase anyone, let alone one as fleet as an Elf. In the name of Isildur, was
nothing in this world ever simple? He considered just laying there and allowing the
Elf to return or escape, as he saw fit, but then the loneliness he hadn’t even known
he was feeling settled down on him again, and with another groan -this one of
resignation- he got up and trotted off after Haldir. 

He found him easily enough, in a clear pool. The Elf was nude, bathing in the bright
water. Boromir’s shoulders shook lightly as he chuckled at the Elf’s elegant way of
letting him know that he preferred him freshly washed. He stripped and followed
Haldir into the water, allowing him to wash the sweat and dust from his skin and the
despair from his heart.



The Company was gathering their things to leave when Haldir brought Boromir back to
the campsite. Aragorn watched as Haldir collected a knowing smile from Galadriel
when he joined her in distributing the gifts she wished to give to the group. He
watched Boromir take his place in line and receive cloak, brooch and a coy look from
Haldir that set Aragorn’s teeth on edge. Boromir had been gone from the group for
five days. Aragorn was not pleased.

Once the gifts had been distributed, the line broke up, and Merry and Pippin ran to
Boromir, welcoming him back by showing him the sword moves they had been practicing.
The face of the usually grim man was split in a sunny expression as he watched the
exhibition made by the two Hobbits. Gimli slapped the man on the back as he and
Legolas headed for their canoe. Boromir’s expression stilled as he looked at
Legolas, but the Elf smiled encouragingly at him and, hesitantly, Boromir smiled
back. Then he turned and came face to face with Aragorn. Before he could stop
himself, Aragorn’s eyes swept the man from part to sole with an expression so
repellant that Boromir blenched. Aragorn made it clear that he thought better of
Boromir and been disappointed. He passed the shaken man and strode to the canoe that
held Sam and Frodo. Legolas grabbed his arm before he could board the boat.

“What purpose did you serve by treating him thus?” he snapped. “He was happy. He was
past what went on between you. With one look you destroyed it all. Why Aragorn? I
have never known you to be so clumsy.” 

Aragorn jerked his arm away from Legolas. He was furious with himself. He had not
known how angry he was with Boromir until he saw the two of them return so obviously
relaxed and involved with each other. He was sorry for the look he had given him,
but he hadn’t been able to stop it. He savagely attacked the water with his oar,
causing the canoe to leap forward, and Sam to grasp the edges of the boat in terror.
He was going to have to get himself under better control than this if he was to
continue to lead the Company in their quest.

After Aragorn had glimpsed Haldir and Boromir entwined, he had returned to camp in a
rage. He realized now that seeing them together had been a mistake. It bothered him
terribly that Boromir was coupling with one he had only first seen a few hours
before. Of all failings that a man could have, Aragorn found inconstancy the worst.
After he had fallen in love with Arwen, he’d had to fight the urge to find release
in other arms over and over again. He had initially not been successful which chafed
him terribly, adding to his loathing of his own human weaknesses. These early
failings were still a source of shame for him and it was this shame that drove his
condemnation of Boromir now. Even though he had rejected the man, Aragorn felt it
should have taken him longer to get over him. He knew this was a ridiculous
expectation. Once again, Aragorn’s head and heart were at war. And once again, his
heart had won.

Still he fought against his feelings of judgement where the man and the Elf were
concerned. He threw himself into activities at Lothlorien. He met with Celeborn and
spoke with Galadriel, he poured over maps of the best paths to use to pursue the
quest, and watched as the Hobbits practiced their fighting, explored the beauty of
the Wood, or pursued their custom of eating eight meals or so per day. But he chafed
at the continued absence of Boromir. He suddenly realized that he missed the man.

Finally, on the fourth day, at the midday meal, he saw Haldir, obviously packing
food for two, or even three, Aragorn thought critically, into a basket. He wandered
over to stand near the Elf. Haldir turned and nodded coldly at Aragorn, making him
wonder what Boromir saw in such a distant sort of person. Then he considered that
maybe Haldir wasn’t that way with Boromir. Even as that thought entered his head, he
saw a gleam of amusement warm up the chill in Haldir’s eyes. 

“Aragorn,” he said demurely. “I would like to thank you for bringing your group to
us. I have enjoyed getting to know... each of you.”

“Some more than others evidently,” Aragorn said stiffly. If Haldir noticed his
displeasure, he ignored it. His smile broadened. 

“Yes, and to think, I almost didn’t let you in. What a tragedy that would have been
for me. As you saw.” He smiled conspiratorially and winked.

“Why /were/ we barred at first?” Aragorn asked, suddenly distracted. “That has been
a puzzle for me. It did not make sense to me then or now.”

Haldir looked long and silently at the Ranger. Then he leaned forward, lowering his
voice. “You know who wears the White Ring, Nenya?”

“Of course,” Aragorn answered.

Haldir shrugged. “Celeborn was concerned. A sip of power can sometimes cause a
thirst for a longer drink.”

Aragorn started in surprise, his eyes flying up to meet Haldir’s. He remembered
hearing Galadriel pass the camp and Frodo rising and following her. He dropped his
head in self remonstrance. He had never considered she could be a threat. Evidently
she had not been, but if she had, Aragorn would never have seen it coming. Again he
was overwhelmed by his shortsightedness. He looked at Haldir. It must have cost him
to admit this to an outsider. “Thank you for telling me,” he said.

Haldir smiled. “You came to find him. You were worried about him. For love of him I
give you this knowledge.” He nodded to Aragorn and glided away. 

Aragorn watched him go in distaste. Love! How could he speak of love when he’d known
Boromir such a short time. He watched the Elf disappear into the trees and was
surprised to find himself longing to follow after him.

On the fifth day Boromir had at last returned to the group, looking more relaxed and
happy than Aragorn had ever seen him. Aragorn listened numbly to Celeborn’s warning
about the creatures marked with the white hand, and then Galadriel was speaking to
him of the possible diminishment of the Evenstar. He told her of his request that
she leave Middle Earth with her kin; his freeing of her. His heart was filled with
despair at the possibility of losing her, and he turned, just in time to see Haldir
simpering at Boromir as he pinned the elven cloak to his shoulders with the brooch
of Lorien leaves. A hot anger started in Aragorn at the sight and then Boromir had
turned, coming face to face with Aragorn. 

Aragorn had managed to alienate Boromir within the first five minutes that he had
returned to the group. He stroked miserably along in the fast flowing river and felt
his helplessness growing inside of him. He finally knew... he was beginning to have
feelings for Boromir. 


Chapter 3: Tick Tick Tick


Aragorn stared uneasily into the curve of the Anduin as he, Sam, and Frodo slid
smoothly along in the embrace of its current. Behind him rode Boromir, Pippin, and
Merry and alongside of him, Legolas escorted a moonstruck Gimli. Gimli had
discovered his hidden love of Elves in his admiration of Galadriel and was
entertaining Legolas with his new-found obsession. But Aragorn was wrestling with a
new-found obsession of his own. 

He was at a loss to explain it, this blossoming attraction to the Gondorian soldier.
Aragorn had never felt this way for another man and it was a puzzle that was
irritating him increasingly. He was glad that Boromir seemed determined to glide
along in back, so he didn’t have to watch as he avoided him. After the look he had
sent him, Aragorn could hardly blame the man. He was going to have to apologize for
that. 

They stopped in the late afternoon to make camp, pulling the boats up onto the sandy
ground. Aragorn watched as Boromir studiously kept from looking his way, immediately
disappearing into the brush. Aragorn saw his chance and followed, wanting to get it
over with as soon as he could. He trailed along after the man, watching as he
gathered an armful of firewood. 

When his arms were filled, Boromir turned and Aragorn knew he could see him coming
up behind him. Boromir froze, looking so wary and uncomfortable that guilt again bit
hotly into Aragorn’s gut. His eyes fell and he approached the man slowly, as one
might approach a skittish horse. Boromir didn’t move, but Aragorn could feel him
staring as he neared him. Aragorn stopped in front of him and his eyes found those
of the other man. Boromir began to edge to one side as if to go around, but Aragorn
dodged over to block his path. He stepped forward and took the firewood from the
other man, placing it carefully on the ground in a pile.

“I would... I must speak with you, Boromir.”

Boromir shook his head and moved forward to pick up the firewood again.

“Please.” Aragorn put the suffering he had been feeling all day into the single word
and it stopped Boromir cold. He straightened up and reluctantly nodded his head,
giving Aragorn his full attention. Now that the time was upon him, Aragorn found he
could not look at the other while he spoke. His eyes slid away as he began what he
had rehearsed all the way down the Anduin.

“I wish to apologize for treating you... the way I did today at Lorien. I had no
right to resent the relationship that you built there with Haldir. You have... You
deserve any happiness you can find and I should have been glad for you, not
condemning. I regret my actions.” He breathed out in relief after getting it all out
and looked up anxiously. Hopeful blue met stony green. Then Boromir jerked his head
once, but his face didn’t soften. He bent forward again to gather the wood into his
arms and this time Aragorn let him take it. He watched as Boromir walked slowly past
him, hoping for a word. Any word. Then, just beyond the other man, Boromir stopped
and turned.

“When you looked at me like that, you reminded me of how my father looks every time
he looks at my brother. I have always hated that look because of the way I thought
it must make my brother feel. But I never really knew how he felt until this
morning. Now I do. It’s awful.” He turned to go and Aragorn, unable to leave things
the way they were, lurched forward grasping him by the arm and pulling him around to
face him. Boromir turned surprised, his armful of wood separating him from his
frustrated companion. Aragorn tried to lean over the bundle, intending to press his
lips to those of the other man’s. Boromir recoiled in shock.

“What are you doing?” he yelped, backing away in consternation. Aragorn maneuvered
forward, trying to lean in upon the man again. Boromir backed away once more and
tripped over a log in his path, falling backward, dropping the gathered wood as he
fell.

“Boromir!” Aragorn stepped forward, holding his hand out to help Boromir to his
feet. Boromir ignored the proffered hand and scrambled to his feet while continuing
to back away from the other man. “Are you all right?” Aragorn asked.

“Get away from me,” Boromir gasped. Aragorn paused, his face closing up in pain. He
turned away from the man. He didn’t want to watch as Boromir walked away from him.
From them. He closed his eyes and dropped his head forward, waiting for him to go. A
few moments passed. Surely he had gone by now, he thought, although he hadn’t heard
him leave. After all, he couldn’t stay this way all night. He straightened and then
started heavily as a hand fell on his shoulder. He spun and saw... Legolas.

“Aragorn?” his friend asked, sounding uncertain. “Anything wrong?” 

Aragorn shook his head. “I merely came out to apologize to Boromir. I have done so.
Hopefully we can put all this behind us.” 

Legolas searched Aragorn’s face, then he nodded in approval. “Good. I’m glad.
Boromir is a good man. If we can help him resist the pull of the Ring, we should be
able to finish this affair.” Legolas turned, then glanced back over his shoulder.
“Are you coming Aragorn?

“Soon,” he answered. Legolas disappeared in the direction of the camp. 

Aragorn turned back around and sat down on the log Boromir had fallen over. He
placed his face in his hands and rubbed at it in fatigue. He felt like such a fool.
Of /course/ Boromir didn’t want him anymore. First he sent Legolas to tell him he
didn’t want him, then he was ugly to him about his new... -Aragorn struggled with
the label- ... love, and then he tried to kiss him. Aragorn squirmed in discomfort
at the light in which he must appear to Boromir. Well, he had tried and he had
failed. He steeled himself to return to the rest of the group. 

There was a slight rustling and Aragorn said over his shoulder, “I’m coming
Legolas.” He stood and turned, almost walking into Boromir. He fell back in
surprise. “Boromir,” he said shocked by the man’s sudden reappearance.

Boromir scowled. “What do you want of me Ranger?” He asked in anger. “Why did you
try to kiss me? I don’t understand you.”

“I find that I have... feelings for you.”

“Feelings,” Boromir took an agitated turn around the clearing. “For me?” He stopped
back in front of Aragorn again. “What of your Evenstar?” 

Aragorn dropped his chin to his chest. “I have released her from our bond. I must be
honest and tell you that I do not think she will allow me to release her. But this
is the first time in my life that I have hoped that she would.” 

“Why?” Boromir sounded stunned.

Aragorn continued to look down. “Because I would know you, Son of Gondor,” he murmured.

“Why?” Boromir asked again. “If not before, why now?”

Aragorn’s head lifted. “I’m not sure. I... it has been a long time for me, I cannot
even tell you how many years it has been since I last felt the touch of a lover.
Perhaps when you had your hands on me, you began something inside of me, something
that has been growing ever since. All I know is that when I saw you with Haldir...”

“You saw us?” Boromir asked in fury.

“Yes, did he not tell you?”

“He knew!”

"He saw me when I came to check on why you had not returned to camp.”

Boromir looked away from him then. “Why did he not say?” He muttered in confusion.
Then he looked accusingly at Aragorn. “And you were spying on me?”

Aragorn did not try to avoid the charge. “I admit I was having trouble trusting you.
I wanted to see who you were with in case it was someone I had to worry about.”

“I see. I take it that you are not worried about Haldir.”

“No, I do not doubt Haldir’s loyalty.”

“Only mine.”

Aragorn was silenced. Boromir continued.

“So having seen us, you did, what?”

“I went back to camp and awaited your return...” his eyes flickered briefly. “For
days,” he said quietly.

“I see. You were jealous.”

Aragorn frowned. “I had not thought of that, but I suppose that it is true.”

“So, having decided that you did not wish to be with me, your mind was changed by my
touch?”

“Yes,” Aragorn said in relief. “At least, I think so.”

Boromir slid around behind Aragorn who closed his eyes as the man came up behind
him. He felt a lurch of excitement at his nearness. Boromir leaned in to whisper in
his ear. 

“A bit like what happens to a man when he turns down the overtures of a harlot, who
then falls against him, using her hands in the darkness to change his mind for him.”

Aragorn’s eyes popped open and he frowned again. “Er, I don’t think...” he began.

Boromir slid over and breathed into the other ear, “Tell me Aragorn, why were your
hands in my hair, your eyes closed, and your lips parted as though awaiting my kiss
when we were out in the woods that other day?”

Aragorn closed his eyes again, this time in annoyance. If he had to tell this story
one more time... “You see there was this tick...”

Boromir, his mouth open in disbelief, came slowly around to the front of Aragorn as
the Ranger explained what had happened. When Aragorn finished speaking, Boromir
stood silent, evidently absorbing what he had said. When finally Boromir spoke, his
tone was lighter.

“Well, I should thank you, I suppose, for saving me from the bite of this... fell
creature. And I might not have met Haldir if this misunderstanding had not occurred,
and I would not have missed him for all the rings in Middle Earth. As for your newly
discovered feelings,” he paused. Aragorn looked at him, waiting. “Perhaps there is
another who could fulfill your yearnings as well as I. Frodo is a handsome lad...” 

Aragorn jerked his head away from him then. “There is no need to be cruel, Boromir.
A simple ‘no thank you’ would suffice. I regret all of our misunderstandings and I
hope that we can accomplish this quest without further difficulties. I consider you
a valuable member of the Fellowship and I am glad to have had this chance to know
you.” He started to plunge away, farther into the brush, but he was stopped by two
hands that gripped the backs of his arms and pulled him gently backwards. 

The breath caught in his throat as Boromir came up against his back again, nuzzling
the hair from his neck and burying his face there instead. Strong arms slid around
his waist and Boromir pulled him tightly to him. 

“I am sorry,” Boromir whispered into his ear. “I have been hurt and very, very angry.” 

Aragorn nodded. “I never thought you wanted Frodo,” he said.

“I know you did not.”

Aragorn turned around then, breaking the other man’s hold. He and the Boromir looked
at each other for a moment. Then Aragorn realized Boromir was moving in to kiss him
and he closed his eyes in anticipation. The light and teasing touch of the lips that
brushed against his was nice, but he wanted more. He pressed forward greedily,
seeking to flatten himself against the other. Boromir staggered at first at the
man’s assault, then braced himself and pushed forward as well. They came together in
a fierce binding of bodies and mouths and Aragorn felt the other man’s arms encircle
him again as they each squeezed closer together. Aragorn thought of the gentle and
elegant toying he did with Arwen and found himself shaking with the desire to be
swept completely away.

His control crumbled and a sob escaped him. He began to move convulsively against
Boromir, completely lost in the closeness of him. He opened his eyes and stared into
the green eyes across from him, brushing the hair back from either side of Boromir’s
face, cupping the strong jaw in his hands, then stroking his cheeks with twitching
hands. He pulled the other’s face closer and placed a deep and loving kiss upon his
mouth. When he pulled away, Boromir drew a shaky breath. 

“By the hand of Isildur, Ranger, even after all that had passed between us, you
still had the power to undo me with a glance. But I never would have guessed that
you would be so eager, or that such eagerness would be so captivating.” He moved
forward to engage the lips of the other man again. Aragorn finally broke away, still
wanting more from Boromir.

“When I saw you with Haldir,” Aragorn began, as his fingers carefully unclasped the
Lorien brooch at Boromir’s throat. Boromir’s hands came up to do the same to
Aragorn’s brooch. “I was fine until I looked down on the two of you. Then I wanted
to rush down the hill and tear him off you. I told myself that it was because I was
shocked. That you had just met him and shouldn’t be with him so soon. But I wanted
you myself. I wanted to take you right then and make you my own. So you would never
look at another again. It was so powerful. I knew then that I was in trouble. That I
would never be satisfied until I had you.”

“And once you have had me?”

"I never really had the chance to get past the other thought to consider that. I
kept thinking the feeling would go away, but it only got stronger, until I thought I
would go mad from it. And still you stayed away. With him. I wanted to kill him.”
Aragorn shook his head. Boromir moved away from him, then, uncomfortable.

“I needed him,” he said. “And... I wanted him.”

“If I had not seen the two of you together, I might never have realized how I felt
about you. The next time I see him, I will welcome him with open arms. You’ll see.”
He returned to divesting Boromir of his clothing. 

“Aragorn.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t you think it would be better to wait until dark?”

“No.”

“The others will wonder where we are.”

Aragorn gave an irritated yank at the chain mail he was endeavoring to pull over
Boromir’s head. “I will not wait for you any longer unless it is that you would
prefer to wait yourself.”

Boromir stared at the fierce look on Aragorn’s face. Then he smiled. “No. I do not
wish to wait for you either. But let us move deeper in the wood. Or we might be seen
and I have had enough of that sort of thing.” 

Aragorn’s eyes flew wide at the last comment. Then he realized Boromir was teasing.
He regarded the man reprovingly. “Well I have not had the ministrations of a wanton
Elf to cool my ardor and so I ask you, if we are to move, let us do so quickly.” 

Boromir laughed and led the way, walking briskly until they entered a small clearing
with a grassy sward that lay beneath thickly branched trees. He turned around in the
pretty place and caught the lips of the other man, sliding his tongue swiftly past
Aragorn’s teeth. 

Aragorn’s hands returned to stripping the clothes from his lover and soon both men
were naked and clasped tightly in each other’s arms. Boromir bent his knees and
pulled at Aragorn and they lay down together on the soft grass. 

Boromir’s hand stroked at Aragorn’s hip and slipped over to touch the hardness that
was pressing into his leg, but Aragorn stopped him, catching his hand with his own. 

“What is it?” Boromir asked in disappointment.

“It has been so long, I fear if you touch me, it will all be over before we have
even begun.”

Boromir placed his mouth against Aragorn’s and murmured into it.“Then we will just
have to continue, that is all. I am certain we will be able to draw more from you if
we persevere. Do not you agree?”

Aragorn nodded and released Boromir’s hand. Sure enough when Boromir touched him,
Aragorn gave a moaning cry and spilled his essence into the grassy loam of Middle
Earth. Boromir ignored the reaction and kissed and licked his way down the shivering
body of the Ranger. He waited, lapping gently, in the mean time, at inner thighs and
belly. When the spasmodic shaking ended, Boromir took the softening desire in his
mouth. Aragorn cried out in amazement as a wet heat surrounded him. He immediately
grew hard again and caught himself as he was beginning to thrust between the
kneading lips. 

“By the Valar, Boromir, stop, or its going to happen again.”

Boromir released him laughing and moved up to kiss the man underneath him. “You make
me feel like the most desirable man in Middle Earth.”

Aragorn smiled and hid his face in Boromir’s neck. “You /are/ the most desirable man
in Middle Earth.” 

Boromir held the other man close. “Okay, tell me then, what can I do.”

“You can lie still. And let /me/ try some things. Some things I was considering in
Lorien.”

“In Lorien?”

Aragorn fixed the man with a jaundiced eye. “You were gone five days, Boromir. Five.
Long. Days.”

Boromir looked at Aragorn with compassion. “If I had known that it was upsetting you
so thoroughly...” he paused.

“Yeeeesss?” Aragorn said, a dangerous light in his eye.

“I would have taken seven.”

Aragorn grabbed Boromir rolling him over to lay beneath him. “Will you or will you
not be still?”

“Anything for you my Companion. Please. You may take point.”

Aragorn chuckled and did just that.



Later the two men wound their way back to the campsite, separating at the last and
entering at different times and from different places, but it was obvious that the
others had noticed their combined absence. There was a tension in the Company that
had nothing to do with the Ring. But it lessened when the two made it obvious in
their demeanor that whatever they were doing, it had not been fighting. As both men
joked and mingled with the Hobbits, Gimli and Legolas sat off to one side, watching.


“It seems things are better between those two,” Gimli observed, sharpening his axe.

"Yes,” Legolas frowned. “It certainly does. I wonder how it was that that happened.”

Aragorn caught Legolas watching him and smiled gaily. Legolas’s sucked his breath in
with a hiss. He was going to have to have a talk with Aragorn tonight, he realized
in anger.




Sam nodded tiredly on his Watch. Aragorn lay quietly, watching him. It was almost
time for Pippin to relieve him and then Aragorn would be able to slip off to join
Boromir. Boromir had left a few moments earlier. He licked his lips in anticipation.
Finally Sam straggled past and shook Pippin who arose and staggered to where Sam had
been sitting, dropping down and promptly going back to sleep. Aragorn snorted and
got up, shaking Pippin awake again as he left the campsite. 

He had gone less than a dozen steps when Legolas stepped out of the trees to block
his path. Aragorn stopped in surprise.

“Legolas,” he said, after a moment in which the two friends eyed each other warily.
“What are you doing up?”

“I’m always up during Pippin’s Watch. He sleeps straight through it.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” Aragorn felt taken to task by the fastidious elf. “It is
good you are so, er, conscientious,” he said lamely.

“Hm,” Legolas answered. “Yes. Well there is something else. Boromir is not in his
bedroll.”

“It seems Pippin is the only one that sleeps during his Watch,” Aragorn joked
nervously.

Legolas did not smile. “Why are you up, Aragorn?”  Aragorn inhaled to answer him, to
lie to him, but Legolas gave him no chance. “How many decades have we known one
another Estel?” 

Aragorn’s eyes narrowed. Legolas rarely called him by that name. “Too many to
count,” he answered cautiously. 

“In those years I have watched as your youthfulness and gaiety settled into a rather
dour stoicism. You were always serious, but as you aged, you became almost hard.”

“Legolas...”

Legolas held up his hand for quiet. Aragorn subsided. “I knew why this was happening
to you. Your avoidance of your destiny, your love for an immortal whose father
wanted better for her, your desire to prove yourself to the living father that you
shared with her and to the dead one that you didn’t. Your inability to obtain his
permission to marry her and your unwillingness to betray him with her behind his
back.”

“Legolas what is this?”

Legolas ignored him and continued. “Today after being lost in the weeds with our
Gondorian Steward for several hours, you smiled at me like the youth you once were.”
Legolas leveled a glare at Aragorn. “So don’t bother to lie to me about why you are
out here.”

Aragorn pursed his lips and his eyes studied the ground. Legolas continued. “In
those many years of our friendship, during which you have confided in me many things
and have never once, before now, felt the need to lie to me, there has been one word
that I have heard from you morning, noon and night. Arwen. It has been Arwen, Arwen,
Arwen until I thought my ears would bleed if I heard her name one more time from
your lips. And now, after rolling around in the dust for a few minutes with a man
whom we do not know, whom we do not trust, you abandon everything you once held dear
and betray us all with this clod, this arrogant boor from Gondor.”

Aragorn’s face took on a set and angry look. “Do not call him names, Legolas.”

“Names! What if the names I wind up calling him are Usurper, Destroyer... Ruler?”

“You think he still wants the Ring. He does not, I promise you.”

“You are blind, Aragorn. The Ring merely bides Its time before It takes him from
you. What if, in your new-found love that you think will obscure the Ring from his
mind, you are actually strengthening the hold It has on him?”

“How could that be?” Aragorn scowled at Legolas, but he felt the sting of fear in
his heart. “You’re hysterical. There has been no sign of what you say. Boromir is
true to the Company. To the Fellowship. To Frodo.”

“To you, you mean. Hysterical you call me? Well I call you irrational. You are lost
in this infatuation that has claimed you and you think not with your head, but with
your heart. And your heart is wrong Aragorn. It is wrong and it will ruin us.”

“You’re right Legolas. We have been good friends for many years. And because of
those years, I will overlook this conversation. I am sorry you are disappointed in
me about Arwen. I have loved her a long time and waited for her all these years. But
I found that I could not stop the feelings I was having for him. I’m happy Legolas.
For the first time in years, I’m happy.”

“And how many years will it take for me to be happy Aragorn?”

Aragorn looked flummoxed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course you don’t. You never do know, do you? Not until something horrible
happens. I have spent years loving you and you never suspected it. And I have
listened to you in your adulation of the Evenstar and supported your love of her and
never once asked for anything from you, but I can not and will not support you in
this. This man is dangerous and he leads you to your doom.” 

Aragorn’s mouth had opened in disbelief as Legolas declared his love for him, but at
his return to the subject of Boromir, he lowered his brows in a scowl. “I can’t talk
to you of this now, Legolas.”

“Of course not. He is waiting is he not? Well hurry up and go to him. I will keep
the Fellowship safe in your absence.” Legolas spun on his heel and disappeared into
the brush. 



Boromir wondered what was taking Aragorn so long. Finally he saw the man enter their
clearing. Boromir smiled broadly and watched as Aragorn approached him. Then his
smile began to wobble. There was no answering smile from Aragorn. Something was
wrong.

“Your doubt of me is back,” he said accusingly.

Hurt flickered across Aragorn’s face. “I have been talking to Legolas,” he said. 

“He can’t have you,” Boromir snapped. 

“That is not the problem. He is worried and is right to be.”

“What worries him if it is not that he wants you?”

“He worries about you... and the Ring.”

Boromir stiffened. Guilt curled a powerful hand around his heart and squeezed. He
/had/ intended to speak to Aragorn about taking the Ring to Gondor. But what was the
harm in that? As a member of the Fellowship, he had the right to make suggestions to
the group. And if he had had some stray thoughts about a grateful and awestruck
Aragorn watching as a Ring wearing Boromir slew the Dark Lord, clearing the land of
his evil, and opening the path for Aragorn to re-take the throne, then what of it?
His motives were pure. His intent was clean.

He realized that Aragorn was waiting for a response and his answer had already taken
too long. He opened his lips to speak but a pale and stricken Aragorn turned away
from him, stumbling away into the scrub. Boromir seethed with grief and anger. He
knew he had lost it all.


Chapter 4: Tock


Legolas dipped the leaf-shaped oar into the Anduin. Everyone was irritable and angry
today with the possible exception of Merry and Pippin. But they were being affected
by sitting in the same boat with a morose Boromir and so very little liveliness was
coming from their quarter. Frodo was feeling responsible for the eddies of distrust
and unease that were invading the group; Sam was upset that Frodo wasn’t eating;
Gimli was worried about losing Galadriel’s hair; Aragorn was saying nothing at all,
to anyone, and he, Legolas, was feeling like he’d killed his best friend. 

Boromir had arisen and followed miserably around in Aragorn’s wake. Aragorn ignored
him. He then shot Legolas a murderous glance that made the Elf even more unhappy. He
actually liked Boromir, when he wasn’t busy being jealous of him. Aragorn wouldn’t
look at him either which was just fine with Legolas as he was still angry with him.
If he would just stop looking so grim, Legolas could be angry with him without
feeling so worried about him too. 



They were still two days from Rauros. Something would have to break soon, and
Legolas feared the break would not be a wholesome one. There was too much tension
growing within the group, like a wire that was being stretched tighter and tighter.
Eventually he knew it must snap. He had tried to diffuse it when he confronted
Aragorn about Boromir. But it had only winched tighter. And when Aragorn had
stumbled back into camp too soon from his assignation with Boromir looking like he
badly wanted to be sick, tighter still. 

Aragorn had sprawled into his bedroll, curling up entirely inside of its folds. Then
Boromir had trailed in and stood over the lump of blanket that was Aragorn for an
hour, waiting to be acknowledged before, finally, giving up and retiring. 

There was also a feeling of dread that was growing inside Legolas that had nothing
to do with the tension in the group. It was an outside menace, an even more alarming
danger than the threat coming from within. Legolas’s heart quailed at the thought of
what must be coming. He wanted to speak to Aragorn about it, but hesitated due to
the strain that lay between them. Aragorn had not told Legolas about what Celeborn
had said about the Orcs that bore the white hand, or that they were being tracked.
He had been too preoccupied with Boromir and Haldir. So Legolas decided to wait to
talk about it with him. The threat did not feel imminent... yet.



Again in the late afternoon they pulled the boats up onto a sandy bank to make camp.
Tomorrow they would make it to Rauros, where they would have to leave the boats and
strike out across country on foot once again. It was on foot that Legolas feared the
attack would come and he would speak to Aragorn then. He wanted the Fellowship to be
ready, for whatever was coming. 



It was dark when Boromir noticed the log moving oddly in the current of the river.
He knelt and watched it closer. Yes it was definitely bobbing strangely. He heard a
movement behind him and Aragorn’s voice sounded at his back. “It is Gollum,” he
said. 

Boromir rejoiced silently at the sound. Aragorn was acknowledging him again. More,
he had spoken to him. Boromir restrained the impulse to turn throw himself at the
man. It would not do, here, in front of the others. Aragorn would not like it. So he
gabbled something about the enemy, then in his anxiety, he could not resist using
Gollum as a reason to promote the idea of going to Minas Tirith. The look of
stubborn resistance on Aragorn’s face as he refused the idea goaded Boromir beyond
all caution and he railed at Aragorn, spitting out a contempt for the man that was
in truth only a part of what he thought. The bitter part. 

“You are afraid,” he burst out. “All your life you have hidden in the shadows.
Scared of who you are, of what you are.” Aragorn shifted away, then swung back to
snarl at him.

“I would not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city.” 

Your city, Boromir thought miserably. Not our city. Not my city. Aragorn was back on
the outside. Back with the beshadowed elves. Boromir’s lip curled as he looked over
at Legolas. Legolas helplessly listened as the winch tightened even more.



Legolas ran into the clearing as Boromir lay in Aragorn’s arms. The wire had snapped
at last and it had lashed out in the breaking, cutting deeply into all of them.
Frodo had wandered away with Boromir creeping after him. The careful watchers, Sam,
Aragorn, and himself, had failed to notice the two of them go until it was too late.
Then the Orcs had come and all else was forgotten as the eight tried to come
together to fight them. But the rifts were too deep, the Company too scattered, and
the Orcs too many. 

Now Frodo and Sam were who knew where, Merry and Pippin were taken, and Boromir lay
bleeding from too many arrows, dying in the dirt of Amon Hen. As he ran toward the
two men, Legolas heard Aragorn swear to save the city Boromir loved. Aragorn
embraced his legacy at last in the arms of the man he loved and Legolas could only
watch and ache to comfort him, his own heart breaking for Aragorn as the two men
said their goodbyes. 



They lay Boromir in the boat and watched as it disappeared into the mist of the
Falls. Despite his sorrow at the loss of the man, Legolas’s heart felt light and
clear again. The feeling of dread had disappeared at last. It had gone when the Orcs
attacked. Legolas always felt better fighting an enemy he could see and touch rather
than a suspicion of disaster ill-defined. He felt whole again as he had not felt
through many of the days of their journey. Since losing Gandalf to the Balrog in
fact. He pushed the last boat into the water, eager to get away from this place of
death, before the feeling of doom returned to weigh him down again.

“Hurry!” he said. “Frodo and Sam have reached the eastern shore.” He turned and
looked at Aragorn who was quietly donning Boromir’s gauntlets. Despite this solemn
gesture of brotherhood, Aragorn seemed past his loss. His tears were gone and he
seemed solidly back in his sterile role of leader. 

He was also not moving toward the boat. 

Realization swept through Legolas. “You mean not to follow them,” he said quietly.
Aragorn looked up, watching Sam and Frodo disappear into the trees on the eastern
shore.

“Frodo’s fate is no longer in our hands,” he said quietly, tightening the strap on
the leather legacy on his wrist. 

And so the decision was made. Gimli, Legolas and Aragorn would go to Merry and
Pippin’s aid and leave Frodo to make his way as best he could with Sam to Moria. 

“Let’s hunt some Orc!” Aragorn snarled, sending a thrill through Legolas.

“Yes!” Roared Gimli evidently feeling the thrill as well.

Legolas smiled at Gimli’s vigor, but the lightness he had felt earlier was gone. He
was uneasy. About Aragorn. It was true that Aragorn and Boromir had only had the one
encounter. Perhaps his recognition of Boromir’s weakness had cured his infatuation
and he was even now thanking the Valar for his escape and renewing his pledge to
Undomiel. But Legolas felt he should watch him. He wished he knew what he could do
to help him. Aragorn would deny any need for help now, Legolas knew. He would just
have to be patient and watch for his chance. Until then, all he could do was support
Aragorn the best way he knew how. With his obedience.



Gimli tightened his hips and abdomen and forced his short legs to pump faster.

"Come on Gimli!” Legolas shouted encouragingly. 

Blasted long-legged Elf. “Three days’ and nights’ pursuit,” Gimli puffed. “No food.
No rest. And no sign of our quarry but what bare rock can tell.” And he had to take
three steps to every one that the other’s had to take. It wasn’t fair. But he would
show them that Dwarves were equal to anything.

Aragorn was like a machine, unbending, untiring, even the Elf seemed more human than
the man. At least he looked back from time to time to make sure a body was still
with them. He saw Aragorn lean down to pick something up from the dirt. A brooch!
Gimli lost his concentration and tripped, rolling down a hill and out onto the
trail. 

"Come, Gimli! We’re gaining on them.” Legolas again.

Gimli hauled himself up and trotted off after them. If it was the last thing he did,
he thought, he would make them pay. He wondered what exactly was driving Aragorn.
Gimli loved the two littlest Hobbits too, but Aragorn was driving them harder in
their pursuit of their rescue than he had in their guarding of the Ringbearer. 

Gimli still felt the Fellowship had failed, no matter what Aragorn said about
holding together. First Gandalf, then Boromir, then Frodo and Sam, and finally Merry
and Pippin. It /would/ be good to salvage two of the lost. But he wondered if that
was the only reason Aragorn ran so relentlessly.

And Legolas, just following along with no opinions, no concerns, no thoughts of his
own. That wasn’t like him. It was almost like he was determined not to question the
Ranger. Gimli wondered what it was he was missing. For now, all he could do was
follow, run, and breathe. 



Gimli was still struggling to breathe although they had long since stopped running.
But the air of Fangorn was thick and heavy in his lungs. He tried to keep his gasps
quiet as he and his Companions stared at the apparition before them. It was too good
to be true. It was some trick. It had to be. It could not be Gandalf standing before
them telling them the Hobbits they had given up for dead, were safe and with a
friend. But it seemed that the good news was truth and Gandalf was back with them.
“At the turn of the tide,” he told them. Hurumph! Gimli thought. At least now they
could take a break and rest. 

They made camp and released the horses to run free.  

“Shadowfax will protect them,” Gandalf said. “And horses of Rohan are trained to
return to their riders. They will be back in the morning.”

Gimli hoped so. It was not comfortable, riding double with Legolas, but it was
better than running unendingly over rock. He definitely did not want to lose the
horses. 

He watched as Gandalf sat by the fire. He would take first Watch, so Gimli and the
others could bed down for the night. Gimli gratefully collapsed onto his blanket. 

When he rose for his turn at Watch, Gandalf waved him back to his bedroll. “Rest now
Gimli. You and the others have gone long enough without sleep. I will watch tonight.
I feel as renewed in body as I have been in spirit. I’ve told the same to the
others. Gimli looked around for the others, but they were nowhere to be found. 

“Gandalf?” he asked in concern. “Where are Aragorn and Legolas?” 

Gandalf looked up from his work. “Eh? I don’t know.”

“What kind of a Watch are you keeping Gandalf, if you don’t notice when two of our
group wander off?”

“Don’t be ridiculous Gimli, I am not watching for them.”

Gimli considered going to look for the other two then lay back down in fatigue.
Gandalf was right, they could take care of themselves. He was going to take
advantage of Gandalf’s offer and catch up on his sleep. Not that he needed it of
course, any more than they did. After all a Dwarf was the match of anyone else, man
or Elf or whatever else came...” and suddenly he was snoring.



Aragorn sat in the shadow of an overhang of rocks, smoking his pipe and leaning
against the cold stone. There were no trees or lovely glades out here on the plain
of the Riddermark. He sighed aloud for the comforts of Lorien. His hand absently
caressed the leather gauntlet hugging his wrist. 

The darkness in front of him parted as a pale shape drifted into view. Legolas
approached hesitantly and stopped in front of the seated man. 

“Aragorn,” he said. “I...” He stopped, unable to think of what to say. He hesitated
to follow Aragorn when he heard him get up to leave. He wanted to offer comfort to
the Ranger but didn’t want to intrude on his grief. He wished he had kept his
silence that night that he had confronted Aragorn. It felt good not to have to hide
anymore, but it was playing merry Mordor with his friendship with the man. He had
not felt comfortable around him since that night.

He had watched Aragorn for a while before approaching him. The man looked fine.
There were no wracking sobs, no tears, no morose spirits. But his hands never
stopped rubbing at the leather on his arms. 

Legolas tried again. “If you would rather be alone... ” he said uncomfortably.

Aragorn tapped the ashes from his pipe and tucked it into his jacket. “If I had
wanted to be alone,” he said, looking up at the troubled face of the Elf. “I would
have told you as I left, for I knew you would hear me go.”

Legolas smiled and sat down beside Aragorn, leaning back on the same stone as he.
They sat for a moment in silence.

“Well,” Aragorn said quietly. “You were right. About all of it. Boromir, the Ring,
even the part about me not seeing things until something horrible happened. Not much
next to Elves am I?”

Legolas was taken aback. He had forgotten some of the things that he had said that
night. Especially the last part. It hurt to think that Aragorn had been mulling over
his hasty words all this time. 

“Even Galadriel can’t see everything,” he told the man, a bit awkwardly.

“No, perhaps not.” He pulled up his knee and rested an arm on top of it. “My heart
is not as heavy now that Gandalf has returned and Merry and Pippin are safe. But...”

"You wish there could be some way of finding him alive as well.”

“Yes,” he said colorlessly.

“He loved you.”

“Yes.” 

“It must comfort you to know that you were with him at the end.” Legolas looked at
him. Aragorn said nothing, his lips tightening.

"I mean, he did die in your arms.”

Aragorn’s hands clenched and his body jerked in frustration. “No,” he bit out.

Legolas looked at him in surprise at the sudden sound of hurt in his voice. “He...”

“I couldn’t hold him,” Aragorn cut in sharply. “Not like I wanted to.” His voice
broke and a sobbing breath escaped him. “The arrows... the arrows were in my way. I
wanted to hold him tight. So tight that he couldn’t leave me.”

Legolas was startled by this first evidence of grieving by Aragorn. He uncertainly
touched the man on his arm. “I am sorry, Aragorn.”

“I know.” Aragorn seemed to struggle and pull himself together. “You are a good
friend, Legolas, and will ever be my friend. That has not changed. That will not
change.” They sat quietly together. Aragorn seemed back to his old self again, but
the silence between them made Legolas squirm a bit.

“Aragorn,” he said finally. “Take some rest. You have not slept in many days.”

“I intend to. But I would talk with you again soon, Legolas. There are things that
must be cleared between us.”

Aragorn rose and left Legolas where he was. Legolas sat a while longer then followed
him. He was apprehensive. He now wished that he had waited before urging Aragorn to
sleep. ‘Things that must be cleared between us?’ That sounded ominous. It seemed
when it came to Aragorn, all of the ways Legolas chose were perilous.



They approached the city of Edoras. It had been many days and nights, and Aragorn
still had not spoken to Legolas of what he wished to say. Legolas feared he had
forgotten it. He continued to obey his every request, supporting him in the only way
he could. And Aragorn continued to knead the leather at his wrists. Legolas did not
follow Aragorn again from the camp. If Aragorn wanted to talk, he would have to say
it. Legolas did not wish to push. Well, he did, but he wasn’t going to. 

He bided his time by getting to know Gimli better. The way the stout-hearted fellow
had kept up in Aragorn’s rocketing rush to the Hobbit’s rescue had impressed Legolas
even more. He had already been impressed with the way Gimli had fought the cave
troll, and charmed by his head over heels adoration of Galadriel. Legolas was well
on his way to a friends for life status with his staunch Companion.

As he and Gimli grew closer, Legolas couldn’t help noticing another relationship
forming. He tried not to mind the growing closeness between Aragorn and Eowyn. He
liked her. It seemed he was fated to see the good in all of his rivals for Aragorn’s
attention. He could see that she suffered in her love of him even as he did. He
recognized the look in her eye when she watched Aragorn when she knew the Ranger was
not looking. He’d seen it in Boromir’s eyes before and had felt it in his own. The
only difference was that she watched as Aragorn touched the jewel at his throat.
Legolas watched as he touched the leather on his arms. And Aragorn gave none of his
thoughts away. And he did not speak with Legolas of anything but needful things.
Legolas began to feel taken for granted. 



Aragorn stewed. He already felt helpless and alone and Gandalf was leaving him
again. Heading out to track down Eomer and the rest of the Rohirrim. A much needed
task, but Aragorn still felt abandoned. He was to go to Helm’s Deep in support of
Theoden. Fleeing to Helm’s Deep was not the path he would choose, nor would any of
the others, but they would back Theoden in his decision because the man was in no
condition to handle anything else. His mind had been taken hostage by the enemy and
while it was gone his kingdom had been thrown into disarray, his subjects attacked
and driven from their homes, his nephew banished with most of Rohan’s best warriors,
and his son killed. The man was in no condition to be disagreed with. 

Aragorn felt the lack of Boromir more and more. The man might have had tainted
opinions, but at least he had opinions. Aragorn missed the energy that came from
pitting himself against another. 



Gimli wriggled out from beneath the pile of Wargs and riders. Splinters and shards,
he thought. He’d gotten trapped so early in the fight he hadn’t been able to account
for much. The Elf had obviously bagged more than he had, and as for the Ranger...
Hmm, Gimli looked around. Where was the Ranger?

“Aragorn!” Legolas’ sharp call cut across the moans of the dying.

“Aragorn?” Gimli called. Where could the lad be? A dying Orc gasped and laughed at
Gimli’s feet. Laughed? Why would a dying Orc laugh? If he had ill news, Gimli
thought. He looked up as Legolas approached him and the evil creature. 

“Tell me what happened and I will ease your passing,” Gimli growled to the Orc.

“He’s dead,” the Orc choked and laughed again. “Took a little tumble off the cliff.”

“You lie!” Legolas snapped then grabbed something from the fingers of the Orc. It
was Aragorn’s pendant that his Lady Elf had given him. Gimli looked at Legolas. He
was white as pearlescent limestone. Gimli felt a little pearlescent himself.
Aragorn’s loss would be a disaster of unimaginable proportions. Gimli couldn’t get
his mind around the possibility.

Legolas scrambled over to the edge of the cliff and looked down. Gimli joined him
there with Theoden. All Gimli could see was an impossible drop bound by sharp
unforgiving rock. How could the lad have survived that?

Theodan’s voice rang out. “Get the wounded on horses. The wolves of Isengard will
return. Leave the dead.” 



Gimli watched as Legolas’s head snapped around to look at Theoden in shock. Gimli
knew leaving the dead made sense. They didn’t have the men to withstand another
attack. But he also knew how Legolas felt hearing those words. Leaving the dead
meant looking for Aragorn was out of the question. Dead or alive, the man was on his
own. 



Gimli wandered the halls of Helm’s Deep looking for Legolas. He was worried about
the Elf. He was taking the loss of Aragorn very hard. Faith, he was taking it hard
himself. Perhaps he was looking for the Elf so that Legolas could comfort him. Too
many losses on this quest. And now here they were, immured here with the others.
Rats in a hole. Gimli didn’t mind holes, he was more used to them than being out in
the open. But this hole felt dangerous. This hole felt deadly. He went out onto the
top of the Deeping Wall and there was his friend, sitting and staring out over the
aspect it afforded him.

“Preparing for the attack?” Gimli asked, coming up from behind him. Legolas started
heavily. “Eh, Laddie. Ye must be deep in thought indeed not to hear /my/ approach.
Deep in the Deep if you will, heh, heh.”

Legolas’s smile was rather anemic, but then so was the joke, Gimli acknowledged to
himself. He approached the Elf and laid his hand on his shoulder. Legolas turned and
nestled his forehead against Gimli’s chest. Gimli was touched at the Elf’s reliance
on him in his grief. Legolas was not normally one to be demonstrative. He placed his
hand on the back of Legolas’s head, stroking his hair awkwardly, then paused in
anxiety. His finger was caught in Legolas’s braid and Gimli couldn’t think how he
was going to get it out.

Suddenly a horseman appeared on the horizon carrying a rider that appeared huddled
on his back. Gimli shook his finger free, covering the action by gesturing toward
the rider. A long blond hair clung to his fingers and flustered, he hid it behind
his back.

“Look,” he said. “Another refugee. I wonder... man, woman, or child?” Legolas lifted
his head and turned to look where the rider had started down the slope toward the
Deep. Then he surged to his feet, focusing harder on the approaching figure.  

“What is it lad?” Gimli asked in surprise.

“It is Aragorn!” Legolas crowed. “He’s alive!” He sprang from the Wall and raced to
a stair to rush down to meet the man. Gimli stood staring hard out at the figure.
All he could see was a tiny black speck on a bigger black speck. Elf eyes were
amazing, he decided, maybe even better than a Dwarf’s. 

“Come Gimli. We must greet him.”

Gimli ran along in Legolas’s wake. Suddenly the Elf turned. “Go to him Gimli! There
is something I must get.” Gimli continued forward wondering where Legolas was going.




Aragorn pried himself from out of Gimli’s embrace. “Where is the King?” he asked him
tensely. He had to warn him of the host that was bearing down on them. They were in
more danger than anyone could ever have suspected. His rage and fear for all of them
bubbled up, burning deep in his throat. He left Gimli behind in his haste to deliver
the news to Theoden. Seeing the people around him staring at him in surprise and awe
and getting in his way, exacerbated his apprehension. If the hoard had its way,
everyone he was looking at was dead.

He neared the opening of the fortress and Legolas stepped out, shining brightly
against the people Aragorn was viewing as dead. He was beaming happily. 

“Le ab-dollen,” he said, and handed Aragorn his pendant. Aragorn’s eyes burned into
him as they traveled from the jewel in his hands to the smile on the Elf’s face.
Then, “You look terrible,” Legolas blurted out in consternation as he took in the
extent of Aragorn’s injuries. Aragorn began to laugh. Was there ever such a friend
as Legolas, he wondered? His heart filled with thankfulness that he had the generous
warmth of the Elf in his life. Losing him must not be an option.

“Hannon le,” he responded, grinning at him and gripping his shoulders in happiness.  

 

Aragorn watched as the men of Rohan were armed for battle. “Farmers, farriers,
stable boys,” he said sadly. “These are no soldiers.”

“Most have seen too many winters,” Gimli struck in.

“Or too few,” Legolas added. “Look at them, they’re frightened. I can see it in
their eyes.” He paused then continued in Elvish. “And they should be... three
hundred against ten thousand.”

Irritation shot through Aragorn. Didn’t Legolas know? He knew this already. He
answered Legolas in Elvish as well. “They have more hope of defending themselves
here than at Edoras,” trying to inject a note of positivity into the Elf.

Legolas made a frustrated movement at what he apparently thought was Aragorn’s false
hope. “Aragorn,” he said, still in Elvish. “We are warriors. They cannot win this
fight. They are all going to die.”

“Then I shall die as one of them!” Aragorn spat out in anger... and in English,
glaring at the Elf, abandoning Legolas and the Elves with his choice of language.
Counting himself utterly among the humans at last. He thought of Boromir. The man
would have been proud. Then he spun on his heel and left the room. He heard Gimli
stop Legolas from following.

“Let him go, lad. Let him be.” 

Aragorn was grateful to the Dwarf. He needed to be alone right now.

 

It was an hour later that Aragorn entered the armory again to finish his
preparations for the battle. He had not spent his time alone after all. He had spent
it getting hope by giving it to a youngster who was terrified of what was coming. He
had watched as the boy took back his sword from him and pelted off to his friends
intending to pass on the words of encouragement that he gleaned from the Dunedain. 

Aragorn reached for his own sword thinking about the boy, and all the other boys who
would be in danger this night. His sword was handed him... by Legolas. 

“We have trusted you this far and you have not led us astray.” Legolas spoke in
English. “Forgive me. I was wrong to despair.” Aragorn appreciated the gesture. He
already knew Legolas was with him. He answered him softly in Elvish. 

“There is nothing to forgive, Legolas.” He smiled and Legolas grinned back in
relief. The silence stretched out for a moment longer than expected. Aragorn felt
himself sway toward Legolas whose eyes widened and jaw tensed. Then Gimli appeared.

“If I have time, I’ll get this adjusted,” he said and released the gathered folds of
the mail, several inches of which hit the floor with a clank. “It’s a little tight
across the chest.”

Then, just as the man and the Elf were laughing together at the irritated Dwarf, the
silvery notes of a horn sounded in the Deep.

“That is no Orc horn,” Legolas gasped, astounded to hear such beauty in a place of
so much desperation. 

The three friends ran from the armory in time to see Elves arriving at Helm’s Deep.
Aragorn lived up to his promise to Boromir to welcome Haldir with open arms the next
time he saw him by throwing his arms gratefully around the astounded Elf. Truth be
told, he would have done it no matter how he’d felt about the other. Such was his
feeling of vulnerability and his delight in the support of his Elvish friends. 

Haldir already knew of the loss of Boromir. Galadriel had seen it in her mirror and
had broken it to him. Aragorn was relieved that he did not have to tell him himself.
Tears burned in the Elf’s eyes as he eulogized the man. It was strange, Aragorn
thought. Seeing Haldir mourn brought up no feelings of grief for him where Boromir
was concerned. He missed him, certainly, and was sad that he was gone, but it was a
pale memory of what it once was. Like a healed over scar. Still there, but no longer
so painful. Perhaps he was finally getting past his loss of the man. He stroked the
leather gauntlets again. He would always love and miss Boromir in some ways. But it
was good to be out from under the weight of his departure. 



Haldir felt the Orc weapon slice into his back. He knew instantly that the wound was
mortal. He began to fall, the world shifting into slow motion inside him. For the
first time in the fierce battle, he had time to look around. He wished he hadn’t.
Death and destruction assaulted his senses. The unseeing eyes of rows and piles of
beautiful Elves met his fading gaze. They had sacrificed themselves for this fight,
as had he, he realized at the last. He wondered if Middle Earth would survive this
loss. He had wanted to help save it. But now he feared it was over for all, not just
for him.

“Boromir,” he gasped. Perhaps he would see his love again, Haldir thought as the
light of the world dimmed. It was odd how close he had gotten to the man in so short
a time. That was not Haldir’s way. He coupled quickly and casually with many, and
rarely risked his heart. But there was something about the Gondorian. A hidden
torment. A secret sadness. Something they had not spoken of. Haldir knew he was but
a respite for Boromir, but he had lost his heart to him anyway. He had missed him
intensely after the Company had left. 

It was very strange, he thought. Everything was moving so slowly. He was still
falling, in fact. He vaguely heard Aragorn screaming his name and someone caught him
before he hit the ground, gently lowering him onto the flagway. But his sight was
dark and he could not see whom it was had caught him. It did not matter anyway. The
fight was lost as far as he was concerned. He wondered what the Havens looked like.
Now he would never know.

             

Aragorn sat wearily on his horse, in a line with Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf, Theodan,
Gamling and Eomer. The fight was over; they had won. But the price had been
staggering.

“Sauron’s wrath will be terrible,” Gandalf told them. “His retribution swift. The
battle for Helm’s Deep is over. The battle for Middle Earth is about to begin. All
our hopes lie with two little Hobbits, somewhere in the wilderness.” 

Aragorn looked over at Legolas, nodding solemnly at something Gimli had said to him.
It was time he talked to the Elf. Of many things. Haldir’s death had made Aragorn
realize his time was limited. Trouble was on its way. Aragorn did not want to lose
his chance again. 



Legolas sat on the bed in his room at the Golden Hall brooding on Frodo and Sam. He
hoped they were still well, although he didn’t see how they could possibly be. He
spoke a plea to the Valar, to guard them and guide their footsteps on the path they
needed to tread. 

“Send them friends in their dark times, when the friends that wish to, cannot aid
them,” he prayed. A knock on the door interrupted his supplication. He finished it
quickly then called to the unknown to enter. The door opened and the form of Aragorn
filled the doorway. 

“Come in, Aragorn,” Legolas said in surprise. “How can I be of help?” 

He watched Aragorn slowly wend his way across the room, stopping in the middle.
Legolas looked at him curiously. Something was different. Then he realized... no
gauntlets. His eyes flew up to Aragorn’s neck. No pendant. Legolas straightened up
on the bed. This could be interesting. Aragorn cleared his throat edgily.

“Do you remember a night on the Mark?” he asked. “I said there were things of which
I wished to speak?”

Legolas stared at the man. Did he remember? Was he jesting? Not a day had passed
that Legolas had not thought of that conversation. Did the man mean that he would at
last clear up the mystery of his words of that night? Legolas nodded to the Ranger.
Indeed, he did remember.

Aragorn sat down on the bed with the Elf, facing him. “I haven’t said anything
before this, because it did not seem to be the right time. But Haldir’s death taught
me that time can run out, even for Elves.” He reached across and took Legolas by the
hand. Legolas’s breath caught in his throat and a thrill ran through him at the
touch of the man. 

Aragorn hesitated and seemed to struggle to find words. Then with a gesture of
impatience, he slid closer to the Elf and grasped a handful of the flaxen silk atop
Legolas’s head, allowing the strands to slide off his fingers. 

“You still want me?” He rasped softly. Legolas nodded. “That’s all right then,”
Aragorn said. “Because I want you too, more than even I did a few moments ago.” He
pulled gently at the soft golden mass and maneuvered the lips of the Elf to his own.
“What do you want?” he murmured into the wet, darkness of Legolas’s mouth. “What do
you like?”

Legolas’s body softened into the arms of the Ranger. Pliant and accommodating, he
molded himself to the will of the man before him. “I love you,” he breathed back
into the other man’s mouth as he took him into his arms. The urgent lips of the
Ranger felt wonderful, so hungry atop of his own. “Do whatever you wish to me.” 

Aragorn’s smile faded. “What,” he asked the Elf, startled, “have I done to engender
such trust?”

“What haven’t you done?” Legolas said and pulled away, laying back on his bed, an
open invitation to exploration. And Aragorn’s hands did explore, reaching around and
under restraining pieces of clothing. Legolas began to unfasten and slide out of his
clothes so there would be no restraints between them, at least on his side. Aragorn
was still fully dressed. 

Naked now, Legolas turned his attention to uncovering as much of Aragorn’s skin as
he could. As he pulled and tugged at the clothing in his way, Aragorn’s lips latched
on to the bare skin on his neck, high up, so it would be hidden by his hair. Legolas
shivered, the skin on his neck tightening as the warm lips touched him. Aragorn
began to suck until the lustrous skin bore a bright purple mark. Then he kissed and
licked the mark that he had made. 

“You are mine,” he smiled into the bright blue eyes that met his own. Legolas
laughed at his possessive tone. 

“I have been yours for years,” the Elf said. “Without a mark anywhere but on my heart.”

Legolas then pulled at the last piece of clothing on Aragorn. His breeches. Aragorn
obligingly lifted his hips so the Elf could drag the pants down off of him. Now,
both were free of clothing and Aragorn drew the Elf tightly against him as they lay
down together on the bed. 

“What finally made you decide that you wanted me?” Legolas asked, stroking Aragorn’s
muscular chest. Aragorn smiled and buried his face in the golden hair of the Elf.

“So many things,” he said softly. “When you told me you loved me and asked me for
nothing. When you continued to support me even when you were enraged at me. Your
courage and ability to fight. Your beauty and grace and strength and skill. Your
friendship. Your wisdom. Your generous ability to forgive my stupidity. But the
decider... the decider was when you fought against me at a time when I needed you
to. At the Deep. You galvanized me, Legolas. Helped me get ready for the battle to
come.”

“Well,” Legolas smiled. “As long as you are sure that you know what it is about me
that you like. Anything else? Please continue.” Aragorn stared at him and burst into
laughter. 

"You are incorrigible,” he said, nuzzling the tip of Legolas’s ear. Legolas leaned
into the caress greedily. Aragorn’s calloused hands made their rough way down the
satin of Legolas’s skin to his hardness, gripping him gently, massaging and pulling
at his length. Legolas’s fingers stroked at Aragorn’s bare wrists.

“No gauntlets?” He asked innocently. 

“They will go back on after. As will the pendant,” Aragorn said. “But for now, I am
all yours. As for the future, I do not know. But for today, you are all mine.”

“Done,” Legolas smiled and draped his arms around the strong shoulders of the man.
“Whatever you will give, I will take.”

“You deserve more,” Aragorn said with guilt lurking in his eyes.

“I will have more someday. Today I want you.”

Aragorn smiled, dropping his head and looking up through his hair at the Elf. “Did I
mention your devilish Elven wit?” He asked.

Legolas laughed in his throat and turned over, nestling the swell of his rear
against Aragorn’s erection. Aragorn’s breath whistled in sharply.

“Take me today, Aragorn,” he whispered, leaning his head back on the Ranger’s
shoulder. “Take me today. While I’m yours.”

Aragorn’s fingers stroked the soft flank that rested against his thigh. “I have
never done this,” he said hesitantly. 

Legolas looked back at him in surprise. “Boromir...?” He began, then winced at his
clumsy mention of that name at this time. But Aragorn merely shook his head,
undisturbed. 

"Hands and mouths,” he replied briefly. “It was to be a beginning.” His hand rose
higher to caress the defined musculature of the Elf’s back. “Before that it had
been... oh years since I have done anything more than kissing. And none of it was
ever with a man. To be honest with you Legolas, just the thought of it is making it
unlikely that I will succeed.”

Legolas rolled away looking at Aragorn in concern. “Too repellant?” he asked.

“Too exciting,” Aragorn answered, leaning forward to nuzzle the Elf’s cheek. “I
wouldn’t last.”

Legolas slid down the bed and took Aragorn into his mouth. The Ranger stiffened and
fell onto his back, as if he’d been stabbed. Legolas followed him over, losing his
grip on him, his hair streaming down around his head to pool softly on Aragorn’s
lap. “I can help with that, I think,” Legolas said, taking him back into his mouth
again. 

Legolas was just getting started when Aragorn stiffened again, a grunting gasp
escaping his lips and a warm thickness flooding Legolas’s mouth.

“We’re going to have to do that again,” he said to Aragorn after he swallowed.
“Later.” 

He positioned himself partially atop Aragorn, laying his ear over his heart and the
Ranger reached down and stroked his hands over his arousal, slowly, patiently, and
with an aching gentleness until at last, Legolas arched, feeling an intensity of
release he had never felt with a rougher touch. They lay together quietly. The first
heat of passion soothed, waiting for the next wave to lift them and send them
tumbling again into one another.

“Legolas,” Aragorn asked suddenly. “Since you know so much about me. How long has it
been since you last...?”

Legolas felt a flush start in his cheeks. “Aragorn, time is relative to an Elf.” 

“I’m sure you get offers all the time,” Aragorn pursued. 

“Offers, yes. Many of them. As have you, I am certain.”

“So when is the last time you accepted one.”

“Aragorn, why is this important to you?”

“Well the more you evade, the more curious I am. What was it? Last night?”

Legolas laughed almost bitterly, “Hardly.”

Aragorn’s eyes narrowed. “Years?” Legolas said nothing. “Decades?”

“Aragorn this is foolish.”

Aragorn moved away from the Elf. “How long Legolas?” He persisted. “I can tell you
that, before Boromir, it had been almost sixty-six years for me. I forswore all
lovers but Arwen one year after first I saw her.”

“I too forswore all lovers after I saw someone.” Legolas said hesitantly. “But in
the length of my life, the time has been but the twitch of an eye.”

“Who was the lucky one? Did you ever get together? What happened to the two of you?”

Legolas smiled. “So many questions.” Aragorn’s eyes pleaded an answer. Legolas
relented. “Well, I met him when he was just a boy of sixteen. We seem to be in the
midst of getting together, and evidently for today,” a graceful finger stroked the
purple mark at his neck. “I am his.” 

Aragorn stared at the Elf. “Oh, Legolas,” he said sadly. ‘Did I say you deserve
more? You deserve all.” He swept forward fastening his lips on the mouth of the Elf.
“Guide me,” He demanded. “I want you so much. But I want it to be magic. I want it
to be right.”

“It will be for me, my love, no matter how it is done.”

Aragorn slid his body over, taking the path offered earlier by the Elf. He prepared
the way carefully with a lotion from Legolas’s bedside and then slowly, tenderly
slid into the intense beauty of his friend. They lay still for a while. Joined.
Connected. Together, at last. Then Aragorn began to move. Slowly at first, then with
gathering speed and force. And Legolas gave back, as always, more than he took. 


Aragorn knew that this was right. Arwen, Boromir, and now Legolas. All had been his
loves and all would ever have his love. But right now, this was where he belonged.
If Boromir was still alive, perhaps this would not have happened. And Aragorn
acknowledged he would have been poorer for it. But he and Boromir were each so
different, they probably would not have lasted as lovers very long, even without the
influence of the Ring. And Legolas seemed to have been willing to wait as long as it
would take. 

Aragorn knew he had chosen Boromir with his heart. Arwen, he had chosen with his
head. Who else was more right to be the Queen of Men. She represented everything
that he could never be. She was without flaw. He didn’t know what would happen if
she was waiting for him when he returned to Rivendell. He would address that when it
was upon him. 

Right now, he wanted to be where he was. With Legolas. The one he had chosen with
his heart and head together at last. It wasn’t that he was inconstant or a fool,
Aragorn decided. It had just been a matter of timing.