Fallen
"If fate wills it so," he said in the end, voice low and slow. "Then it will
happen. After all this... After all this, the world will be much changed. And we
will be changed with it..."
Aragorn leaned forward, "it has already begun. Can you feel it? The foundation
underneath us, Boromir... the very ground... The world is changing."
"I know." The answer was simple, but enough. The man of Gondor went silent
again, studying the darkhaired man next to him.
"You look troubled," Aragorn remarked, letting his fingertips touch Boromir's
face. "I know what is weighing so heavily on your mind, at least I imagine I
do... Why don't you let me help you ease the worries?"
The night was quiet around them, the gentle breeze only whispering through
the branches of the trees, in a soft lullaby.
"My worries are my own," Boromir replied, turning his face away. "Maybe I do
not wish to share them." The feel of a warm, strong hand on his wrist startled
him. The hand took hold of him, gently pulling him closer. Aragorn's other hand
folded around his neck, the thumb tilting his face upwards.
Aragorn's eyes were dangerously close. "There is no need to keep them to
yourself, Boromir," he whispered, his thumb brushing over the blond man's short
beard. "Talk to me."
"It is not fair," Boromir took a deep breath, not meeting Aragorn's gaze.
"This is not fair of you. You wish me to tell you what I keep in my mind, and
yet you look at me as if you already know...you do not need me to tell you,
Aragorn."
Both hands were cupping his face now, warm fingers moving lazily over his
skin. Boromir still couldn't face Aragorn, couldn't meet his eyes to see what
made them shine in the dusk of the early night.
"Perhaps I want your trust." The words came easy, without anger or
resentment, just those light caresses to his skin. "Your trust, in me, that you
may speak freely..." Aragorn was closer now, much too close. Boromir meant to
move away, but felt himself caught in strong arms. Finally looking up, he was
trembling, like a rabbit happened upon a deadly predator.
"I do trust you." The words were whispered, as a secret you were both
desperate to tell, but still afraid to. "I trust you, Aragorn."
The darker man smiled. "My name on your lips... It still thrills me. It
should be a name of shame, from the forever doomed Isildur who should have
destroyed the Ring...yet when you speak it, it's the most beautiful of melodies.
And your lips, do you know they are more enchanting than the sweetest wine? That
I long to touch them, brush my fingers over them, claim them with my lips... Am
I scaring you, Boromir? You are trembling."
Hesitant fingers touched the collar of Aragorn's tunic. "It is... all new to
me, this. As you said, the world is changing. Much is coming to be that I never
had thoughts of... or I hid away, in shame..." He stopped suddenly, surprised
over his own openess. Staring at his own hand, nervously gliding along the
leather collar of Aragorn's tunic, Boromir frowned. "I do not understand what
has come over me in this place... at first I could see no hope, and now..." A
finger strayed to swiftly graze smooth skin. "Now I feel..." At a loss for word,
he paused, looking at Aragorn.
"Speak no more," the other whispered, his mouth now close to Boromir's ear.
"There are other ways to talk, then with mere words... Ways that speaks truer,
and much more powerful."
There was silence between them as Aragorn slowly moved his head again, gently
touching his lips to Boromir's cheek, then the corner of his mouth. This close
he felt every shivering, hitched breath, felt each hurried heartbeat. Moving his
hand to run through fair hair, he twined the locks around his fingers. The tip
of his tongue slid over a full bottom lip, demanding access, which he got. Lost
in the heat and taste, Aragorn made a small growl, deepening the kiss.
The reply was tentative at first, as barriers were still being broken. Then
emotions won over sense, stirring up hidden feelings in both men, lighting fires
that could be all-consuming.
It was an urgency in all of it, a near frenzied impatience that devoured sense
and reason.
The fire was coming closer, the flames taking everything in sight. Finding
himself on the ground, Aragorn halfway on top of him, Boromir forced himself out
of the tempting trance.
"No!" he gasped, pushing himself away. "I cannot do this!"
Aragorn's eyes shone like wolf's eyes. Like the animaleyes they held great
power, the power to ensnare him again, to make him yield to the other man and
give himself freely.
"I cannot not let you do this," he added.
"Why?"
Boromir stopped, having only succeeded in moving a few steps away, still on
the ground.
"Why?" He stared wildly at Aragorn. "Because... Because of you! You are
Aragorn, heir of the throne of Gondor, you are the rightful king, I..."
"Nonsense."
Slightly alarmed now by the look on Aragorn's face and the small smile,
Boromir remained where he was, even with the other man moving closer like a wolf
on the prowl.
"Don't lie to me, Boromir. You are using the throne of a king you don't
recognize to set between us? Do not forget that you cannot hold any secrets from
me. Your soul is clear as day to me, everytime I look into your eyes..." Coming
closer, Aragorn pulled the other man to his knees, until they were facing each
other, kneeling like at some pagan altar.
"I know you felt it too," Aragorn voice was soft, assuring, making Boromir
want to give in so bad. "The first day in Rivendell, in the chamber of the
Broken Sword...you felt it too, Boromir, I can tell. Why else the hasty retreat?
Do not fear it. Give in to me." The words were followed by heated lips on his
neck, making him give a longing moan.
"I did feel it," Boromir admitted, his hand on Aragorn's shoulder, the motion
meant to push the older man away, only to find that he couldn't. "But...
Aragorn, listen to me! This is..."
"Yes, this is what? Madness? Weakness? Some sort of trick of nature?"
Aragorn's eyes were burning holes in him. "So be it. I do not care anymore." His
gaze softened. "But I do know, don't I? There is darkness is your eyes. Darkness
that is growing. I pray it's not in your heart as well..." For a second Aragorn
looked so sad, it nearly broke Boromir's heart.
"Tell me," Aragorn said, his voice heavy with emotions. "What is in your
heart, Boromir of Gondor?"
Raising a trembling hand, Boromir placed it on Aragorn's cheek. "You," he
whispered. "You are in my heart, Aragorn. Maybe I didn't wish it so, but for the
life of me, I can't help it."
Strangely shy and a little embarrased, Boromir let his hand fall, looking
away. Blinking away tears, he scolded himself for behaving like a fool. He was
a warrior, a man of arms, this kind of behaviour was unheard of.
His thoughts were interrupted by a finger curling under his chin, gently
making him look up.
"I wouldn't want you to be able to help it." The softest of all kisses was
pressed to his lips. "Because you are in my heart too, ever since I first laid
eyes on you. Time is kind to us, not letting us see what may be, she spares us
great sorrow that way." He could feel Boromir grow tense in his embrace.
"Don't hide your meaning in your words, Aragorn. Speak freely, you owe me
that."
Silently watching him, Aragorn sighed. "I fear I am not alone in your heart,
Boromir... A foe, greater than the both of us, have gained access... Let me help
you. There are those stronger than..." He regretted his words the instant they
were spoken.
Blue eyes glazed over, becoming cold and dangerous as sunkissed ice.
"You think me weak?"
"No!"
But by then it was too late. Boromir was forcefully pushing him away, getting
to his feet. Keeping his hand out to stop Aragorn from approaching him, he
backed away.
"Save your words, Aragorn... I do not wish to hear them, as pretty as they
may sound..."
Stopping, he met Aragorn's eyes, chin held high.
"Your advice is not needed, heir of Isildur." Boromir's voice held an egde as
sharp as the blade of Aragorn's sword. "And your presence unwanted."
Too caught up in the intensity of the moment, Aragorn acted without thinking.
Moving quickly, he grabbed Boromir by the arm, keeping him close. He ignored the
other telling him to let him go.
"Don't be too quick," he warned darkly. "Don't let stupid pride come between
us now, Boromir... Can't you see that..."
The blade of a daggard was pressed to his neck. The ice in Boromir's eyes was
burning, a fascinating controversy that captured Aragorn's attention more than
the feel of cold steel on his skin.
"I told you to let me go, ranger." Boromir's voice was soft, but without
warmth. He withdrew the daggard, twisting his arm free. Turning away to leave,
he was stopped by Aragorn's voice.
"Don't let it end like this, Boromir."
Boromir turned slowly. The coldness gone from his face, making hope blossom
in Aragorn's heart. But it was replaced with a wearyness, on top of solid
determination, that struck the feelings of hope down as quickly as they entered.
"Is there another way of ending to this, Aragorn? Let me go now, I want to be
alone. Do not follow me, I warn you." Turning again, Boromir walked away, not
once looking back.
"Foolish," Aragorn whispered, his hands curling into fists in silent anger.
"My foolish, stubborn, proud...dear, sweet Boromir... You walk so willingly into
the darkness, so eagerly out to face the abyss... Yet you walk without fear,
without evil... But you walk with anger, and pride, the most deceitful of all
feelings of Man."
Staring into the forest there was nothing there to soothe him, except for the
twirling coils of shadows.
"And you will face the abyss soon, the fall will be a mighty one..." A single
tear escaped his eyes, getting to leave its mark undisturbed on his face.
"I only pray I will be there to catch you."
by BlueKat
His
words sound heartfelt and true to me. And I cannot deny it... they paint such
vivid and inviting scenery in my mind...
houghts such as these were
filling Aragorn's head, sitting quietly in the forest of Lothlórien. The night
had fallen, shadows dancing with moonbeams among the tall trees. He should have
been resting, they both should. But he could not leave this moment behind, could
not let it pass. Could not leave grey-blue eyes, as bright and open as the
summer sky, could not leave the hand now finally stretched out.
