In the Deep
'I know you are awake.' said Boromir 'I can tell from the sound of
your breathing.'
At that, he had to smile. 'Am I as loud, then, as a dwarf?'
'No, heir of Isildur. You are always very quiet. Very quiet. But
there is little that I miss.'
Yes. There was little that he missed. Aragorn wondered if the other
man could hear the beating of his heart, like drums in the deep.
Boromir did make a sound then, moving nervously and then instantly
repressing the movement. Aragorn heard him draw in a quick breath as
if to speak, and then let it out, unused. He waited. If there was one
skill he had developed, it was to wait in watchfulness.
It was several minutes more, reclining beside each other in the heavy
darkness, before Boromir spoke again. His voice was very low, but
harsh.
'I have been on many campaigns.'
'Indeed.'
'Oftentimes men can not sleep, but lie watchful in the night.'
'That is my experience also.'
Boromir cleared his throat.
'And... at such times... they may lie with each other.' Aragorn caught
the faint glimmer of Boromir's eyes as he turned his head away, even
as he spoke. It was hard for him to say it.
'Are you frightened of me?' Aragorn said. Boromir started with
surprise. Perhaps no-one had ever asked him such a question. His head
whipped back round and he was about to speak, but Aragorn was faster.
His hand reached up like a snake striking and touched the opening
lips. His voice was like the faint air moving the ancient dust of
Moria. 'You are not frightened enough.'
As Boromir's lips tightened in irritation, Aragorn's finger brushed
against them. Proud Boromir. I will bring you low.
'I accept your offer' he said, in a perfectly controlled voice. His
hand moved from Boromir's lips to the back of his head, and he
gripped a broad fistful of hair. Although he could see almost nothing
in the shadows, his mouth found his companion's. Unyielding.
'I wish I could see you,' Aragorn's ragged voice revealed his emotion
for the first time. 'I want to see your face when I make you come.'
In the darkness he heard Boromir swallow, though the other man said
nothing. Then, convulsively, the hard mouth yielded, opened, and
responded. Boromir gripped Aragorn's shoulders, and for a moment each
seemed to be vying for control over the other.
Then Boromir moved his hands to Aragorn's hips and pushed himself
against him. The length of each body pressed against the other, as if
they were straining to merge, to become one. Their mouths opened up
to each other and Boromir had the sensation that he was falling into
a different world. Laying down the burden of being himself, that he
had carried for so many years.
Then their mouths broke, and they gripped each other gasping for
breath, returning to the here and now.
'Careful, Oh great leader of men,' said Boromir, in a mocking voice,
'We'll wake the little ones.'
'You already did.' came an irritable voice from the darkness. Gimli.
'Get on with it, or shut up.'
Boromir felt Aragorn's body tremble slightly, and realised the other
man was laughing. Then the absurdity of the situation struck him too,
and wrung from him an involuntary snort of laughter. He bit his lip,
but it was no use. The two men lay, in the debris of the Mines of
Moria, in the eternal darkness of the depths, laughing quietly, and
not ceasing to hold each other.
Gandalf heard the brave sound, and sighed, thinking of what was past,
and passing, and what would be.
Part II
...but as they stopped laughing, Aragorn felt Boromir pull away from
him. His arms ceased to grip his companion, and his face turned away.
Under his thin robe, the muscles of his arms and legs tensed. Aragorn
realised that the other man was about to rise to his feet, probably
to vanish into the darkness alone, and therefore he anticipated him.
He sprang abruptly to his feet, and started to haul Boromir upright,
as if that was his idea all along. 'The dwarf is right, let us leave
them in peace to sleep. They will need all their strength tomorrow.'
This last produced a growl from Gimli, but none of the other
companions spoke, though all listened as the two humans walked softly
away together.
A short distance from the others, Aragorn stopped and moved his face
from side to side, with his eyes shut, smelling the air. Boromir
stood very close to him, feeling the warmth of his body, trying to
see what the other man was doing, but making out only a dim shape. He
was not about to follow him...
'This way,' hissed Aragorn, and set off, without stopping to determine
what Boromir thought. Face grim, Boromir lengthened his stride and
easily caught up. He reached out, without seeing, gripped the other
man on the upper arm and abruptly span him around. He spoke into the
blackness in front of his eyes. 'Where are you going? We can't leave
them unprotected.'
'Your concern is admirable, son of Gondor, but misplaced.' Boromir
heard a door opening in front of them, and a grey vertical bar
appeared in the almost impenetrable darkness. 'We will not be far
from them.' Aragorn grasped his hand confidently, and lead him
forward.
Boromir blinked. Through the cunning artifice of the masters of the
mountain halls, a pool of moonlight fell into the chamber that lay
beyond, through a shaft that had been cut into the rock. This dim
grey light had been completely hidden from where they lay. It was not
bright, but for the first time, he could see his companion. He was
aware of the broad hand that held his.
'I found this place before we lay down to sleep,' said Aragorn, with
a certain smugness, and Boromir wanted to hit him. Or something.
'Why have you brought me here?' He replied suspiciously.
'I think you know,' whispered Aragorn in his ear, 'fair Boromir.'
Boromir pulled his hand free. 'You speak foolishly.'
'I also act foolishly,' said Aragorn, and indeed his words were true.
For any man invited death, who would shove the son of the warden of
Gondor against a wall by brute force. Who knocked the breath from his
lungs and pinned him there, forearms across his chest.
In the dim light, Aragorn could see that Boromir's head was tipped
back against the rock, and he was regarding him through slit eyes
with a mixture of affront and amusement. The man of Gondor licked his
lips, the tip of his tongue flickering between them.
'Can you see my face now, heir of Isildur?' said Boromir. 'Tell me
now what you read there.'
Aragorn lowered his full weight onto his companion's chest, and
looked closely into his eyes, pale in the dim light.
'You are wondering whether to risk exerting your strength, for fear
it may not be great enough to overcome me.'
Boromir thought it prudent not to reply to this comment, and he
allowed himself to be kissed again, though he kept his eyes open. He
was able to grip Aragorn once more around his narrow hips, and pulled
their bodies more tightly together, feeling his hard flesh taut
beneath the woollen cloth.
Aragorn pulled himself away. He braced one hand on the wall, with his
face inches from Boromir's. Without changing his expression, or
averting his gaze, he undid the lacing at Boromir's throat, and
pulled the loose robe from his companion's shoulders. He ran his palm
down the other man's chest, letting the cloth fall aside. Boromir
neither helped nor hindered him, but met his gaze calmly.
Then he bent his head to scrutinise the progress of Aragorn's tongue
across his chest. Aragorn biting his nipple. And down his stomach.
Everything happened very slowly. Aragorn licking his stomach. Pulling
his breech-cloth aside.
Then he let out his breath as Aragorn's mouth closed on him. He spoke
a harsh word in the debased tongue of the streets of Minas Tirith. He
bent over Aragorn, holding his matted hair, moving his hips very
slightly, lips drawn back in what looked like a grimace of pain, but
was not. He felt the cold eternal night around his body, and the hot
wet mouth of the prince enfolding him.
Aragorn was businesslike. His fingers caressed the hard buttress
behind Boromir's cock, and he was rewarded with even less coherent
noises. Without warning, he sank his thumb into him. The word 'No'
escaped Boromir's lips, and his movements became less inhibited.
Aragorn pulled his mouth away and slid Boromir wetly between his
fingers, looking up into his contorted face. As he had predicted, he
watched the face of his companion as he came, desperately, into his
palm. Nearly weeping.
In contrast, Aragorn was calm. His dirty hair tangled in front of his
face, but his wide-set eyes were cold. He supported Boromir as he
sank down to his knees beside him, feeling the mighty warrior's heart
beating. And brought him gently down from his knees to lie on the
chamber floor, looking up into the moonlight, his clothes all pulled
aside, and his palms facing upwards, empty, in surrender.
'and to come...'
by Alison
he mine smelled of old, old dust, and behind that the sharp smell of
slaughter. A moving shadow blocked out the glimmer of Gandalf's
light, where the old wizard kept watch. Just for a moment. There was
only one companion so broad and tall, who could move so lightly. He
said nothing, as the man lowered himself quietly to the dusty floor
beside him, but remained alert and watchful in the blackness.
