Title: Contest of Wills Pt 1/?: Suspicion  
Author: Eirien Rhovan (eirien_rhovan@hotmail.com) 
Pairings: Aragorn/Legolas; Boromir/? 
Rating: R 
Summary: The Fellowship has set out from Rivendell on its 
quest. Aragorn has his lover beside him, but has issues 
with another member of the group that need addressing. 
Disclaimer: The Ring made me do it. 
Authors Note: Sequel to 'Immortal Love, Immortal Peril' 
series. 
 
Feedback: Please. Much appreciation to everyone who 
provided feedback for the first series. 
 
 
Huge thanks to my beta, Menel. J  
 
 
Boromir sat apart from the others at the camp, pretending 
to sharpen his sword and wondering, again, why he was here. 
It had only been a few days since the Fellowship had left 
Rivendell on their quest to destroy the Ring. He had sworn 
to see the task completed, sworn to help unmake the one 
weapon that could put an end to the suffering of his 
people. He should have tried harder to convince them that 
this was not the best way, but everything had been 
overshadowed for him by the revelation that Isildur's heir, 
this man of myth and legend, was real, was here, and was 
about to claim the right to rule Gondor. 
 
Boromir watched the man sitting across the camp from 
beneath lowered lashes as he continued to draw the stone 
calmly along the blade. They had hardly spoken since the 
Council when Boromir had laid down his unmistakable 
challenge. What did this man know of Gondor, of the 
struggle of his people? He had spent his life in safety 
with the Elves or in the shadows in his guise as a Ranger. 
Where had he been, this man who would be his King, when his 
people had bled and died to protect their country? 
Suddenly, Boromir wished that he were back in Gondor, 
helping his father in the defence of the realm. He had 
given his word though, and also realised that this was an 
opportunity to gain important information about Aragorn, so 
that when this quest was over and they returned to Minas 
Tirith, he would have already taken the measure of the man. 
Boromir watched silently as Aragorn and Legolas sat 
together talking quietly. He wondered briefly what their 
history was. It was obvious that they were close; Legolas' 
defence of Aragorn at the Council made that clear, and the 
man seemed completely at ease with the Elf. Boromir watched 
as they shared a joke, then Aragorn moved to sit beside 
Gandalf.  
 
Not wanting to reveal his silent vigil, Boromir returned 
his gaze to the task at hand while his thoughts turned back 
to his family. When he had left the White City things were 
not well with his father. He seemed frail, more and more 
unable to cope with the demands of his position. Without 
discussing it Boromir had stepped in and helped where he 
could. He was close to his father, always had been, and 
Boromir often felt that his younger brother, Faramir, 
suffered for it. Their father always looked to his older 
son always for council, never to the younger. It was as if 
Faramir did not exist for Denethor, not when he had 
Boromir, and on more than one occasion Boromir had been 
forced to contradict Denethor's orders when he would have 
sent Faramir into needless danger. Boromir knew his brother 
to be capable of leading men and holding his own in battle. 
Faramir did not lack for courage, but neither was he a born 
warrior, he was quieter, less bold than his older brother, 
more at home with a good book or listening to musicians 
play, and somehow Boromir sensed that this disappointed 
their father.  
 
He, on the other hand, greatly admired this in his brother. 
Boromir had always been unable to sit still for long, 
certainly not long enough to learn the finer points of 
poetry or history, had felt them to be unimportant when the 
enemy was pressing hard against their borders. There had 
been times when Faramir would quote some line from a book 
or spontaneously recite a made up poem and Boromir would 
look at him, bemused. He would not quite grasp the meaning 
behind the words or understand how they related to whatever 
it was they were doing at the time, but he saw how 
Faramir's face would light up during such times and Boromir 
would feel glad that the words made his brother happy. He 
would allow Faramir these moments, knowing that his brother 
would not dare to speak like that before their strict 
father, and then he would laugh and gather the younger man 
in a headlock, ruffle his hair and call him 'soft' with 
heartfelt affection.  
 
When Boromir had left Minas Tirith, Faramir had been in 
command of a small company of soldiers near Osgiliath. He 
hoped his brother had been successful in holding off the 
new attack to that city without too many casualties. He 
knew the men under Faramir's command, knew them to be 
worthy opponents for any enemy. They would fight to protect 
the city until the death if need be, as would he, and he 
fervently hoped that when he returned it would be to hear 
tales of their victory rather than to see the all too 
familiar sight of freshly dug graves. 
 
". Boromir?" He started slightly at the sound of his name, 
breaking free from his reverie, and saw the rest of the 
group looking at him expectantly. Seeing the blank look on 
the man's face Gandalf repeated his question. "We were 
discussing whether or not to make camp for the night here, 
or make use of the last few hours of daylight." 
 
It was an easy question for Boromir to answer; each step 
they took was a step closer to home. "I say we move on." 
 
"Then we are in agreement," Gandalf announced and without 
another word they broke camp and set off with the afternoon 
sun warming their backs. 
 
That night he took his place by the campfire close to the 
hobbits for he knew that they would require his protection 
should danger fall upon them. He lay still, eyes closed but 
unable to sleep despite the long march that day. He allowed 
his mind to wander, walking through the familiar paths of 
the White City, visiting his most beloved places in an 
attempt to find some peace. The night stilled around them 
and just as he felt himself finally drifting off he sensed 
a movement to one side. Opening his eyes a fraction he saw 
Aragorn's back as he disappeared into the surrounding 
wilderness. Thinking the man had merely gone to relieve 
himself Boromir tried to relax again. When Aragorn did not 
return after a few minutes had passed Boromir lifted his 
head slightly to scan their surroundings. He noted, with a 
feeling of unease, that the Elf's bedroll was also empty. 
Boromir tensed, wondering if the Elf and man had heard 
something moving in the woods. Everyone else seemed to be 
asleep and Gandalf was sitting quietly on watch off to one 
side smoking his pipe, his back to the camp. Boromir's 
sword lay at his side and he drew it closer and listened. 
He heard nothing except the soft breathing of the hobbits 
and light snores from Gimli. The silence of the woods, now 
that he opened his ears to it, was almost deafening and 
somehow that made him more troubled. He toyed with the idea 
of going after the pair, but then who would defend the 
little ones? Gimli seemed to know how to wield his axe 
effectively, but would be outnumbered if a group of orcs 
happened upon them. One of the hobbits stirred in his 
sleep, muttering something unintelligible, causing Boromir 
to jump nervously. All thoughts of sleep were now forgotten 
for the Son of Gondor and he lay still, alert and 
listening, and waited. 
 
****** 
 
Aragorn found Legolas easily enough in the dark. The Elf 
wanted to be found. The man made his way toward him with 
quick steps, eager to take the Elf into his arms and feel 
the strong yet pliable body pressed up against his own. 
They did not speak, there was no need. Legolas and Aragorn 
had been lovers for many years, since before Aragorn had 
been made aware of his true identity. Since their first 
meeting in Lothlórien they had met whenever possible, 
sometimes travelling together for no other reason than to 
simply be close to each other, and Legolas had been both a 
reminder to Aragorn of his first love and the means by 
which to move on without him. At first Aragorn had been 
bedazzled by Legolas' beauty, but he had quickly learned 
that beauty was the least of Legolas' qualities. 
 
But it was the Elf's appearance that held his attention 
now. Legolas glowed in the starlight, an expression of 
warmth and affection on his face as he saw the man 
approach. Aragorn would have liked nothing better than to 
make love leisurely in the moonlight and afterward talk 
softly while they lay wrapped in each other's arms till 
morning, but they were pressed for time and needed to get 
back to camp as soon as possible. They were already running 
a risk by sneaking away together. If any of the others 
should find both of them missing from camp it would cause 
an uproar. With that in mind Aragorn quickly closed the 
distance between them. He caught the Elf's head with both 
his hands and brought their lips together in a hard kiss 
that left no question of his desire. He moaned quietly when 
Legolas returned the kiss with equal force and slowly they 
sank to the soft ground. 
 
They almost forgot the passing time as they lost themselves 
in the giving and receiving of pleasure, but their coupling 
seemed to be over too quickly. Both regretted the fact that 
they could not linger and enjoy the afterglow of their 
passion, but the need to return to the others overrode all 
else and they quickly dressed and made their way back to 
camp from different directions. 
 
****** 
 
Boromir could barely stand the tension. It had been some 
time since the Elf and man had left the camp. Perhaps he 
should alert Gandalf to the situation. If anything should 
have happened to the pair and it was discovered that he was 
aware of potential danger, it would be disastrous. But no, 
he had left it too long now, he would have to wait it out. 
His eyes scanned the faces of the others, making sure they 
were all still asleep, and finally came to rest on the 
Ringbearer. He stared at the Hobbit for some time without 
fully realising it. It was folly, sheer folly, to believe 
that they could lead this little one through the black 
gates of Mordor to Mount Doom with the Great Eye constantly 
seeking them out. No, they would all die and the Ring would 
fall into the hands of the Enemy. He had seen it in a 
dream, the Shadow from the East. They should use this 
weapon and smite their enemies before Gondor and the rest 
of the world fell into darkness. 
 
Boromir 
 
The voice crept into his mind, barely audible, but there 
nonetheless. It held a soothing, comforting quality that 
lulled him. Accompanying the voice were images. Images of 
him with the Ring, using it to destroy the Great Eye, 
images of his people living in peace, smiles of joy 
replacing the tears of sorrow too often seen on the faces 
of Gondor's many widows. 
 
Boromir. Yours. 
 
Yes, he wanted that, wanted the Ring to belong to him, but 
knew it was not to be. He had given his word and would not 
dishonour himself and his family by faltering. He could 
sense most of the Fellowship distrusted him already, 
particularly the Elf and Aragorn, and would not give them 
cause to further question his integrity. He willed the 
thoughts and voice away, buried them in the deep recesses 
of his mind. He would not tell anyone of these visions, 
would not show his weakness before Aragorn. Boromir knew 
the Ring was wresting these visions from his mind, from his 
innermost thoughts, they had been warned this might happen 
before they set out from Rivendell, but somehow the images 
made sense to him. To him, it seemed to be the only viable 
option. The Ring had fallen into their hands for a reason, 
and he could not fathom that reason to be simply to deliver 
it into the hands of the Dark Lord. With an effort Boromir 
tore his gaze away from Frodo and as he did so a flash of 
movement in the trees caught his eye. He tightened his grip 
on his sword once more, then let out a long breath as he 
recognised Aragorn. The man looked around the camp and 
Boromir shut his eyes before the other man could see that 
he was awake. He did not know why, but he did not want 
Aragorn to know he was aware of the ranger's movements this 
night. 
 
Although he was not aware of the Elf returning to camp, 
after a few minutes he heard Legolas talk quietly to 
Gandalf just before the wizard made his way to his bedroll 
and settled down for the night, leaving the Elf on watch. 
In the past, whenever Legolas had been on watch he had not 
woken any of the others to take over, letting his 
companions sleep through the night, and Boromir hoped it 
would be the same tonight. He had not yet slept and knew 
tomorrow would be another long march. 
 
****** 
 
The next morning the Fellowship set off early after a 
hurried breakfast. Boromir was grateful that Legolas had 
indeed kept watch for the rest of the night, allowing the 
others to sleep, but he still felt as if his slumber had 
been light, broken by dreams of Gondor in ashes. 
 
The companions chatted with each other for a while before 
falling into their usual pattern of walking in single file 
lost in their own thoughts, all apart from the hobbits who 
seemed more content to chatter amongst themselves. It gave 
Boromir the chance to observe Aragorn and Legolas as he had 
earlier that day. At breakfast he could detect no change in 
the pair, they gave away nothing as to why they had crept 
away the previous night. The fact that they did not give 
any mention of investigating a noise in the woods made 
Boromir wonder what they were up to. He was not used to 
people keeping secrets from him. A myriad of thoughts 
passed through his mind as he speculated as to what their 
secret might be. What were they hiding from the rest of the 
group? 
 
By the time they stopped for lunch Boromir could feel the 
beginnings of a headache and decided to take a break from 
his musings. Aragorn had given the hobbits swords but had 
neglected to teach them how to use them, a fact that 
bothered Boromir, and he used this time to set it right. If 
the little ones were to wield a sword at all they should 
know at least the basics of handling a weapon. The lessons 
helped Boromir to relax, he could almost forget where he 
was and what he was doing, and when they set off again he 
felt greatly refreshed. 
 
Whilst they were walking Boromir found himself again 
observing the Elf and the other man. This time he did not 
try to see into their minds, but his thoughts turned toward 
their physical appearance. They could not be more 
different. Whereas the Elf radiated sunshine, Aragorn was 
dark, like the sun and moon. Boromir walked behind the pair 
and could see, and appreciate, the lithe form of the Elf, 
his muscles clearly defined through the clothes he wore. It 
was not unusual in Gondor for warriors to find some measure 
of comfort in each other whenever they were forced to be 
away from home for long periods. Boromir wondered if it was 
the same for Elves. Looking at Legolas' effortless grace as 
he walked and his shining golden hair, Boromir could not 
help but meditate on how that hair would feel beneath his 
fingers, how it would look splayed out on the ground as the 
Elf writhed in ecstasy beneath his touch. It had been a 
long time since he had felt the solace of being with 
another, male or female, as the journey to Rivendell had 
been long, and Boromir felt an uncomfortable stirring in 
his groin forcing him to slow his pace a little. 
 
He forced his eyes away from the Elf and turned them toward 
Aragorn, hoping to dampen his rising passion. He felt the 
ranger viewed him with nothing short of scorn, although for 
what reason Boromir could not fathom. Was it not he who had 
held so much of the man's realm from the enemy for so long? 
Aragorn should be on his knees thanking him, and his 
family, for what they have done, should be treating him 
with the respect he was accustomed to. Instead the man 
largely ignored him, never sought his advice nor asked his 
counsel. A stray thought suddenly crossed his mind. What if 
Aragorn intended to depose him, to take away what was 
rightfully his? Perhaps Aragorn intended to install the Elf 
in his place once he became king. That would certainly 
explain their secret meeting and Aragorn's indifference. 
After all, Aragorn had been raised by Elves, was betrothed 
to an Elven princess. It was possible that Aragorn had also 
chosen to appoint one of them as his Steward. Feeling as if 
he had taken a blow to his stomach, Boromir struggled to 
catch up to the others from where he had fallen behind, all 
thoughts of lust gone from his mind completely. He was sure 
that his conjecture was correct. He could think of no other 
logical explanation for their behaviour. Now he just had to 
find a way to confirm it. 
 
****** 
 
For the next two days Boromir fell into a routine. He would 
rise each morning and observe as much as he could during 
the day. He always took personal interest in the little 
ones, saw them in need of his protection more than any of 
the others, and they seemed to warm to him as he taught 
them swordplay and told them stories of his home. 
Occasionally as he told these stories he would glance up 
and see Aragorn watching him. Although the other man's face 
would not show any emotion, his eyes would blaze with an 
intensity that stunned Boromir, then Aragorn would turn 
away before he would have the chance to decipher the 
meaning behind the stare. Each night Boromir would lay with 
his eyes shut, awake and listening, until he heard Aragorn 
slip away, and each night when he raised his head to look 
around the camp he would note that the Elf was also gone. 
 
That day, when they made camp for the evening Boromir 
volunteered to collect wood for the fire. All day he had 
been subjected to the view of Legolas as he walked behind 
the Elf and his long period of forced celibacy was 
beginning to take its toll. Each step had grown more and 
more painful as his erection had rubbed against his 
leggings, causing enough friction to keep him hard, but not 
enough to bring a release. Now was his opportunity to 
relieve his aching need without suspicion. 
 
He wandered as far as he dared into the surrounding wood 
before pausing at the base of a large tree. Leaning one 
hand on the bark for support, Boromir loosened the ties on 
his breeches and slipped his other hand inside, sighing 
with relief as his fingers closed over naked flesh. Knowing 
he did not have much time he did not seek to prolong the 
pleasure, wanting only an end to the burning need of his 
body and gripping tightly he set a fast pace. He let his 
mind wander back to lunch that day when he had watched 
Legolas as the Elf walked around the camp. His graceful 
movements and well-proportioned body had held his 
attention. He had a feline quality that one could almost 
mistake for femininity, but somehow the Elf radiated 
masculinity, strength and endurance, mixed with grace and 
agility, a combination that Boromir found undeniably 
stimulating. 
 
As he pleasured himself with long, firm strokes, Boromir 
allowed his eyes to close, willing his mind to recreate the 
image of the Elf, preferably one in which a yielding 
Legolas was on all fours in front of him, waiting for him 
to thrust into his body. What he saw instead shocked him; 
two blue eyes, but they were not the cobalt blue of the 
Elf's, instead what he saw was the intense and piercing ice 
blue of Aragorn's eyes. Boromir gasped and the hand on his 
erection stilled. He clenched his jaw and tried his best to 
push away the image of the man and replace it with the Elf. 
He needed this, needed this release from his physical 
needs, and he was not about to allow Aragorn to intrude on 
this as he did everything else. But the ranger would not 
give up, kept watching him silently, steadily, so that 
finally Boromir gave up in disgust and withdrew his hand, 
tying his breeches around his softening erection, and set 
about the task he had volunteered for. 
 
****** 
 
Aragorn and Legolas made their way together to the nearby 
river. While Boromir was collecting wood for the fire the 
rest of the Fellowship had used the opportunity to take a 
much-needed bath in the cool waters. Aragorn closed his 
eyes and took a deep breath as the refreshing water washed 
over him, then opened them to watch as Legolas swam in 
further to bathe. Aragorn's breath caught in his throat as 
the Elf's golden hair echoed the warmth of the late 
afternoon sun and water ran off his firm muscles. More than 
that though was the aura that surrounded the Elf, a gentle 
radiance that came straight from his soul. Aragorn was so 
in awe of this beauty there was no room for lasciviousness, 
only absolute admiration for the being before him. 
 
When they finished washing away the grime of the road, 
Legolas swam back to embrace the ranger tightly. Aragorn 
could feel the Elf's happiness and leaned into the touch, 
running his hands up over the smooth back. Legolas took his 
head in both hands and placed a light chaste kiss on his 
lips. When Aragorn would have moved back to the bank 
Legolas tightened his grip and held him in place. 
 
"Stay for a few moments. It's so pleasing here," he 
murmured. Although he was anxious to get back to camp, 
Aragorn willingly complied, resting his head on the Elf's 
shoulder as they wrapped their arms around each other. 
There was a peace in the moment that the ranger drew on. 
They remained that way for some time, not moving, as the 
waning sun played gently upon the water. The only sounds 
Aragorn could hear were birds chattering in the trees and 
the sound of their own breathing, but he knew Legolas would 
be able to hear if the others were in danger and so allowed 
himself to relax and simply enjoy the closeness of his 
lover. Since the Ring had revealed itself and they had 
begun on this quest Aragorn had felt the threads of his 
fate come together, binding him, felt it weighing on him 
more and more with each passing day. It was too soon. He 
did not know if he had the strength in him for this test. 
In the beginning he had fought against this destiny, 
preferring to lead a simple life as he always had done. 
Gradually, as the years passed, he had come to accept in 
his heart what his future might hold, but he had hoped it 
would be a long way off. The finding of the Ring had 
changed that and forced him to begin his journey and reveal 
himself whether he felt he was ready or not. Even if he did 
conquer the lure of the Ring, how would the people of 
Gondor react to his rule? If Boromir's reaction were 
anything to go by he would have a long hard road ahead of 
him.  
 
"What are you thinking, love?" Legolas asked softly, 
breaking the silence. 
 
"That we should run away. We could build a home somewhere 
in the mountains and live there together. I could sell 
healing potions and you could raise chickens." Legolas 
laughed at that and drew back to look into the man's eyes. 
 
"You would have to work very hard indeed to keep me in the 
manner to which I am accustomed, meleth-nin," he joked, 
bringing a smile to the ranger's face. They both knew that 
Legolas would gladly swap the trappings and responsibility 
that came with being a Prince for a lifetime of love. Even 
though being a younger son meant that his burdens were 
less, he still felt honour-bound to help protect his people 
and the wood they loved; although, on occasion, he did 
somewhat enjoy the intrigue of his father's court and 
having some input to the rule of Mirkwood. "And will you 
issue orders to Boromir from our hideaway, or simply leave 
him to rule as he wishes?" Aragorn sighed, the moment lost, 
and would have moved away if Legolas wasn't holding him so 
tightly. 
 
"How do you do it, melethron?" It was uncanny how the Elf 
could see into his mind. 
 
"I know you, Aragorn. I watch you watch him and see that he 
troubles you. You need to address this, meleth-nin, before 
it is too late." 
 
"I do not want to be at odds with Boromir. I feel he has 
the makings of a valuable ally. I could not wish for a more 
qualified Steward. I listen to him talk of Gondor and it is 
like he is transformed, he speaks with such passion about 
her and her people. If he would just accept me, I know that 
together we could restore Gondor to her former glory." 
 
"You both want the same thing, Aragorn. All you need to do 
is to make him see that. When you have a common goal it 
does not make sense to fight each other. Boromir will 
realise that eventually. Talk to him, Aragorn, and let him 
see you are no threat to him, that you value his opinion, 
and I promise he will prove a most steadfast ally." 
 
Aragorn thought upon this for a moment. Legolas' words made 
sense, but he would have to approach the other man 
carefully. Boromir had shown no inclination for any greater 
contact between them and Aragorn did not want to raise his 
suspicion by being over-friendly. It would take time, but 
now he thought about it he felt that if Boromir would give 
him a chance, their mutual love of Gondor might prove to be 
a common ground they could build upon. He relaxed once more 
and leaned his body back to rest against the Elf, laying 
his head on Legolas' shoulder again. "Hannon lle, 
melethron," he murmured. 
 
"I have not done anything, Aragorn." 
 
"Your just being here means everything to me, Legolas. With 
only a look you know what I am thinking, feeling, and are 
already two steps ahead of me, waiting, should I need you. 
Your very presence lends me strength, meleth-nin. You are 
my friend, comrade and lover. You are the sum of all these 
things to me and so much more." As he spoke Aragorn lifted 
his head to look at Legolas and saw the effect his words 
had. The Elf's eyes shone with emotion, the cobalt blue 
blazing with fire. 
 
"Ah, but that is simply what it means to love, Aragorn. To 
have that connection you must give yourself completely to 
another and have them do the same, until you become almost 
as one. To place your trust in some one else without 
reservation, and offer them unconditional support. I love 
you, Aragorn, and you do not walk this path alone. Not 
while I still breathe." 
 
He leaned his head toward the man for a kiss and when he 
felt Aragorn's tongue flick against his lips he allowed the 
man entry. The man swirled his tongue around the warm 
cavern, savouring the familiar fresh taste. Legolas' own 
tongue chased his until they were entwined, lips locked and 
he felt the Elf's hand reach up to cup the back of his 
head. All too soon they were forced to part for breath and 
Aragorn felt a great loss when the Elf ended the embrace. 
 
"We must go back, meleth-nin," Legolas whispered, but his 
eyes blazed with promise of fulfilment to be taken later. 
 
****** 
 
End of Pt 1.