Legacy
The very thought of him coming to me on bended knee to swear allegiance to
me as his rightful king after publicly denying my existence had gladdened me
initially. It had dissolved the uncertainty I felt in his presence and given
me hope for not just the success of our quest, but that of our combined
survival as well. But when he had stood before me much later, long after the
others had bedded down for the night that my unease had returned and then
turned quickly to disbelief and finally anger.
It had been then, that he, Boromir son of Gondor, had unsheathed his sword,
offering it to me and disarming himself completely as he had once more
dropped to one knee and offered me something else. Something not spoken
about in the company of men less travelled than ourselves, or those who have
not seen war year after year without the hope of home or comfort. And
perhaps it was not the offer of release so much as the man making it that
had caused me to take him so, filled me with a rage I had not known I
possessed until I saw him as he had been at that moment. For all my concerns
I saw in Boromir an equal to myself, and not one to kneel before another,
whether it be his king or anyone else, so readily.
Now he lies beneath me, taking what I force upon him without whimper or
complaint, and it is that same willingness which also drives me to my
completion. Wanting a quick end to something that should have never begun, I
pierce his flesh repeatedly as my own cries cut through the still of the
night—shattering any illusion that this is not really happening, that I am
not using my steward as I would no man, woman or beast.
"There was no need, my lord." He offers when I finally withdraw from him.
His body is very still although I can hear the unreleased tension in his
words.
I kneel behind him, turning him over so that I can see his face, see for
myself what I suspect. He is hard despite the cruelty in which I have used
him. His cock stands out from his body, begging attention from its nest of
auburn curls, weeping silent tears that glisten under fragmented moonlight.
"There was every need," I tell him, reaching for the first time to touch his
hardened length. Grasping his rod in my hand I see a fleeting glimpse of
confusion cross his face as I then bend to take him in my mouth.
"You unman me to suckle me as a woman in need of gentle caresses," he
protests. "You are completed, now leave me be so I might find my own
release," he adds, though there is no resistance in him even as I continue
to taste him, noting as I do an undeniable and encouraging thrust of his
hips as I dip between his splayed legs, licking at all that he is.
"You unman yourself to taken as you have, Boromir," I inform him in between
pants for breath. The pungent odour of his blood and my release stings my
nostrils the lower I delve, searching the crevice under his scrotum for the
fluid I know that will be required. "What kind of man gives himself up such
as you? What kind of defence do you offer against attack?"
"I thought not to be attacked but to be of service."
"How can you expect to be of service, Boromir, if you will not fight, if you
do not protest even the violation of your own body?"
"The time to fight has not yet come. Tomorrow, or the next. There is much
ground to be covered before we reach Mordor. I will fight when attacked, and
not before."
"Yet you will give yourself to a man you hardly know. Why, Boromir? Why do
you allow such a thing? What manner of king do you take me for?"
"You are Isildur's heir."
Boromir's simple answer shocks me. Was this my legacy, I wondered? With the
ring so close, was this the path I would follow, no matter how unwittingly?
ÔYou are Isildur's heir, not Isildur himself. You are not bound to his
fate.' Arwen's words come to me like the whispering of leaves on an evening
breeze but not even they are enough to reassure me or to release me from my
nightmare.
All thoughts of continuing with my plan to finish Boromir desert me and I
scramble back from the man lying in complete disarray before me. His eyes
follow me, and as I struggle to stand and rearrange my clothing into some
semblance of order, I also see him reach for me. It is all I can do to not
accept the hand he offers me.
Backing away, my boots tangle within the hidden undergrowth surrounding us,
and I fall hard on to the ground where we had chosen to lie together.
Boromir vanishes from sight as I go down, but I am soon accosted by a strong
hand on my shoulder and the sound of my name demanding I respond.
"Strider!" It is not Boromir that rouses me from my nightmare but Gimli who
finally wakes me. "You are making enough noise to raise the dead," he warns
in a voice roughened with impatience.
Rising up on one elbow, I stare first at the serious expression of Gimli and
then past him to the rest of the fellowship. I had been dreaming I realise,
and none too quietly it seems.
"I am in your debt, master dwarf," I say and wait while he nods and recedes
back into the night.
Rising up a little further, I peer through the darkness to the others. With
the exception of Legolas, who stands watch somewhere outside of my line of
sight, they are spread around me.
The halflings are huddled close together, Gandalf nearby, separating the
ring-bearer and his friends from Boromir. It is a wise decision, though I
doubt the old wizard or any other member of the fellowship would name it for
what it is.
Feeling myself watched, I turn my attention to the man who has caused my
unrest. Boromir's eyes meet my own, and for the briefest of moments I let my
mind wander back to my dream and the part he played in it.
I may not be bound by Isildur's fate but we shared the same weakness it
seemed.
by Alia
he fury builds in me, refusing to be contained and I revel in it. Feeling
the power bestowed on me I rear back, my un-tethered hair clinging to my
face, my body covered with sweat as I stare down at the man at my mercy. I
should have taken the time to stake him to the ground, spread him even wider
than he already is while I stake my claim on his willing body, I muse. But
it matters not I decide as I arch my spine and plunge back into the tight
heat that is Boromir. It is his willingness that has been my undoing and I
know it. It is what has driven me to take by force what he has given freely.
