Part Three
Aragorn winced. "If that is supposed to reassure me Boromir, I would have picked
a better choice of words," Aragorn muttered. "Although, I must admit, it is very
little."
"Why, thank you, Aragorn, what a charmer you are," Boromir said. He cast a
cheeky glance over his shoulder.
Aragorn was presented with a most charming picture; and a rare one indeed. The
rather magnificent naked Boromir on all fours, his legs placed temptingly apart,
in a sweetly cheerful and responsive mood.
Indeed, the little rosebud between his cheeks had featured prominently in many
brave men's wildest fantasies although only a very select few had ever laid
eyes, let alone hands, on it.
To Aragorn however, it seemed the most formidable of challenges.
"I say, Aragorn, am I putting you off?" Boromir asked. He sat down and turned
around to face his lover.
Aragorn shook his head and smiled warmly at the man he had only been reunited
with the day before, after a lifetime of longing. "I don't think I could want
you any more than I do. It is just that, I have only ever lain with elves, and I
am afraid I might be too rough and hurt you."
Boromir leaned in for a kiss and reached down to stroke Aragorn's engorged sex,
already covered in oil. Aragorn groaned lustily—he desperately needed
release.
"There now, I can't possibly be more fragile than a dainty elf maid," Boromir
purred.
"You would be surprised," Aragorn laughed. "Oh Boromir, don't tease me, I'm not
going to last much longer."
"Aragorn, we simply cannot carry on like this. If you don't have a good hole to
put your cock in, you will go insane or wander away," Boromir said mock
seriously.
"Earendil! How rude you can be, my dear lord of Gondor," Aragorn said.
"I'm about to be much ruder; so please brace yourself, your Majesty," Boromir
growled.
Aragorn was shoved onto his back and before he could get out a cry of protest,
his sex was enveloped in the tightest, hottest, most delicious opening he had
ever known.
Boromir was very vocal and astoundingly wild, being as fiercely expressive in
his pleasure as he was in battle. He stroked himself in time to the almost
brutal rhythm he set with his hips, and the vision was erotic enough to make
Aragorn glad he was lying down.
Aragorn seriously wondered is he was going to black out from the intensity of
their lovemaking.
He climaxed with a bestial howl, and his vision swam with little starbursts. He
collapsed on the bed with Boromir on top of him.
Aragorn would never have guessed that Boromir possessed such wantonness, he had
always been so perfectly well spoken, so immaculately groomed, so properly
martial during the quest, and so tenderly restrained the night before.
The former king caught his breath, gulping in the heady scent of sex, fur,
warmth, and above all, Boromir. Just for a fleeting moment he missed the fresh
dew kissed woodland scent of Arwen's fair skin.
No, he must not let those memories return, he was in the realm of Men now and
she was better off where she was. It was Boromir he held, hard muscle, hair,
sweat, taste of leather, hint of steel—comforting smells, smells from his
days as a Ranger, and smells of his new freedom.
There was no kingdom out there in need of him, he could lie here all day with
Boromir on top of him; there would be no complaints.
Aragorn cuddled Boromir closer when the man tried to roll off him.
"Happy?" Boromir asked, delightedly resuming his position and nuzzling the
beloved neck.
"I could lie here like this all day," Aragorn said, turning his head to tempt a
kiss.
It came immediately, and Aragon sighed as he felt strong hands caressing his
side and reaching for his hips.
Suddenly, the door burst open and there was a brief commotion punctuated by a
few shouts. Aragorn turned just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of
Éomer, as young as the day Aragorn first met him, trying and failing to
shove past a pleasant looking woman bearing a breakfast tray.
Seconds later the door slammed shut again and the two lovers heard urgent voices
outside.
Éomer son of Eomund stood with his back glued to the door he had just
slammed shut; his eyes wide.
"Well, is he hurt? What is with all that shouting and thumping? And he missed
his breakfast, which he never does, and he didn't respond to the guard we sent
up to tell him we had arrived with good news, and the morning patrol have rode
out without him!" Faramir exclaimed, bewildered.
"He hasn't had his supper from last night either, my lord," said Anna, the head
housekeeper. "He just told his captain to continue as usual without him as he
had a guest visiting, but he never left any instructions for the kitchens, which
he always does when we expect guests, his lordship is kind and thorough that
way, he is. What is to be done now with you all visiting, and so fair a lady
with you and another in there by the looks of it? And us not having a lady's
maid in this whole castle!"
Anna tried not to stare at the lady who wore a lovely white linen gown, but had
her hair down to her waist and a sword on her hip.
"It is alright, Anna. I need no maid, and some simple fare would be fine. Have
you bread and some meat cuts and some butter? Oh, and some mead? We might as
well have some light luncheon, we have already breakfasted. Just go down with
your tray and we will discover the reasons for Lord Boromir's odd behaviour,"
the fair lady said.
Faramir beamed proudly and fondly. Éowyn always knew what to do in an
awkward situation. And she had only arrived in the death realm two days ago.
"Most gracious lady," Anna said, curtseying gratefully before hurrying
downstairs.
Éowyn smiled as she caught Faramir's look, and her cheeks coloured and
she reached out a delicate hand, which Faramir caught in his own and brought to
his lips.
Theirs was a famous story now, their love having matured into an eternal bond.
Faramir never caged his bride, and all who loved the former Steward also grew to
love his wife, who sat in his council and rode with his men when she pleased,
although she also managed his household with the grace of a lady and the force
of a lord.
Even as she aged, Éowyn need only look into her husband's eyes to see
herself as he saw her for every day of their union: beautiful, wise, and above
all most dear and most beloved.
He never stopped regarding her as the great treasure he had somehow, against all
odds, discovered and kept; and she, in turn, warmed and bloomed, marvelling that
she had found a man of such enduring courage, nobility and gentleness, and that
he was hers so completely.
From the day of her wedding, Éowyn had considered herself more lucky in
love than even the much envied Queen Arwen Evenstar.
Éowyn laughed like a girl and then teasingly addressed the still mute
Éomer. "Come now, brother, who is in bed with my brother-in-law? Surely
it must be our cousin Theodred."
"Ssh! It isn't Theodred, but I dare not trust my eyes!" Éomer said
urgently.
"Theodred? Wha— is it a lady then as Anna thinks?" Faramir asked. He was
terribly confused. "That would be most unlike Boromir."
"She was probably in shock. If that is a lady, she must be the most weather
beaten in the land," Éomer said.
The door opened behind him and he tottered for a moment with a yelp.
"Good Éomer, should I be insulted or well pleased with your description
of me?" Aragorn asked.
Éowyn, usually so self possessed, let out a very uncharacteristic squeal
of shock while Faramir stuttered and finally said, "Your Majesty!"
"No, I am no longer a king. I am, my good lords, merely a Ranger again and a
guest at Boromir's castle," said Aragorn, and flashed everyone a well content
wide grin.
"But, where is...," Faramir stopped his query as Éowyn gave him a sharp,
warning look.
Sorrow passed over Aragorn's features for a moment, but then he smiled sadly and
said, "She has returned to her people. We had one lifetime together, but now it
is done."
Boromir finally emerged, dressed neatly, thoroughly scrubbed and clean shaven.
"We shall have a new beginning, Aragorn," he said warmly. He resisted the urge
to cuddle Aragorn—the almost urgent desire to touch him to reconfirm that
he was really here and his—but once outside his private chambers Boromir
was acutely aware of his public responsibilities.
He started to see Éowyn, and a deep blush coloured his cheeks.
"Lord Boromir, I have heard so many good things about you. Please don't be
embarrassed for my sake; I am a daughter of Rohan and a married woman who has
seen much of the world. And I am most happy for you both," she extended both her
hands to Boromir, who took them and greeted her warmly.
"My brother has always been wise in his love, my lady, and from what I know of
you through him—and seeing you now—I am ever more convinced of this,"
Boromir said.
Then he smiled charmingly and added, "Your beauty has grown much since I saw you
creeping about Théoden's council room corridor clad in Éomer's clothes."
Éowyn laughed winningly, "You remember! You never let on that you knew I
was eavesdropping behind the tapestry."
"Then we are old friends," Boromir said gallantly. Women lived very limited
lives, in both Rohan and Gondor, and Boromir—who had seen his mother waste
away from his father's coldness and the constraints of female life in Minas
Tirith—had taken an instant liking to her unique courage, a trait he
admired in both men and women.
Éowyn kissed Boromir on a freshly washed cheek, charmed that he was so
sweet and kind in real life. She had never conversed with him during his visits
to Rohan in the land of the living, being excluded from the king's council due
to her gender and age. And the post war Gondorian legends of their great fallen
Captain had always made him out to be an almost forbidding hero unbelievably
larger than life.
She saw the way he looked at Aragorn and the fond smiles that he flashed at his
little brother and the still flabbergasted Éomer, and Éowyn felt
instinctively that she would grow to love Boromir very much, as her dearest
husband always had. He seemed very much like the hero of the songs and stories
that Lords Meriadoc and Peregrin—or rather Merry and Pippin as they
preferred to be addressed—liked to share with her when they attended
banquets together after the war.
The happy party had luncheon in the open, the day was so lovely.
Anna was shocked to discover that Aragorn was no lady, but did some seem
particularly upset. She, like most of Boromir's men and servants, knew of his
preferences; although they could not help but secretly wish that their lord
would take a wife and people his estates with little Boromirs.
However, all the women agreed that Aragorn was most handsome and well spoken,
and their lord seemed very happy, so they should all rejoice.
It was like a reunion of friends, Éomer already had a closeness to
Boromir from the days they spent together in the death realm, and Aragorn was a
dear friend from his days among the living. Éowyn was pleased to find her
Faramir so delighted to be in his brother's company, and Boromir was unfailingly
gallant and warm towards her.
Aragorn was trying to tease Boromir into breaching the rules of public etiquette
by eating some bread from his hand, when a serving wench rushed up and announced
the arrival of Lord Theodred.
An awkward silence descended at the merry table, and Aragorn could not help but
stare at the magnificent young man who strode up to their table beneath the
trees.
Theodred was magnificently handsome, so much so that even the fair Éomer
seemed ordinary beside his masculine glory. He was built like a great warrior,
which he truly was, with powerful arms visible beneath exquisitely designed and
fitted arm guards, his shoulders were broad, his hips perfectly slim and his
stride commanding.
But it was his chiselled features, so extraordinarily noble that even the men of
Isildur's line paled in comparison, which arrested the gaze of any observer and
stirred the fire of desire. His hair fell like golden sunshine about his
shoulders, softening and framing the angular lines of his almost too handsome
face.
Aragorn suddenly felt very plain and too skinny beside this incredible male
beauty.
"Good morning! Ah! My lovely cousin Éowyn has joined us at last here. How
wonderful!" Theodred exclaimed with a deep, rich voice that was almost as
pleasing to the ear as Boromir's.
Aragorn suddenly felt high pitched and nasal on top of it all.
Éowyn stood to embrace her cousin with genuine affection, and
Éomer smiled, but Aragorn noticed that Faramir looked disapproving and
that Éomer looked nervous and uncomfortable.
Éowyn reseated herself and Boromir stood to greet his newly arrived
guest.
Aragorn knew his face darkened as Theodred embraced Boromir with intimate
familiarity. He kissed the now clean shaven cheek lingeringly while his hand
strayed to the small of Boromir's back and gently caressed the swell of the pert
Gondorian buttocks.
Boromir stiffened and drew back quickly, shaking his head firmly.
"Theodred, I would like you to meet King Elessar of Gondor, otherwise known to
us as Aragorn," he said formally.
Theodred bowed slightly, and Aragorn inclined his head briefly. He did not rise
from his seat. The king did not care if he was being improper to Boromir's
guest, he did not like Theodred much already.
"We must talk, Theodred. Please excuse us, and enjoy your luncheon," Boromir
addressed the second sentence to his guests, and then the two men walked back to
the castle.
Aragorn watched them go with worried eyes.
"Boromir will probably talk to him in the small chamber beside the main dining
hall, where he conducts most of his business which involves a chat with one or
two people," said Faramir.
He looked down at his thumbs.
"The door is quite thin, so if someone were to lean against it in a casual
fashion, their conversation would be quite clear," he continued.
Nobody commented as Aragorn nodded his thanks and hurried back to the castle
himself.
"You are being most cold, Boromir love. Come sit beside me, I have been away two
months, and I have missed you urgently," Theodred purred.
Boromir, who had been pacing, planted himself firmly in an armchair situated
across the loveseat in which Theodred was semi-reclining.
"There is no way to say this gently so I must be direct. Aragorn and I are
lovers now; which means that we can be no more than friends. I hope you will
continue to visit, Theodred, for you have been a good friend to me, but there
will be no more invitations to my bedchambers and I will not accept any of yours
anymore," Boromir's tone was forceful.
"Oh Boromir! I am happy for you, but I see no reason why we cannot still be
intimate! Don't be so ridiculous, we are young and robust and obviously will
remain so in this eternal realm, you cannot be serious about binding yourself to
one man! That's a preposterous idea!" Theodred chuckled.
Aragorn, ear pressed stealthily against the door, frowned deeply. That laugh was
one of the most engaging and seductive he had ever heard.
"Theodred, I understand your views on fidelity, I became painfully familiar with
them when we were alive," Boromir said stiffly, "And while you tumbled every
well made man in this realm."
"Boromir, you know I love you best," Theodred said.
"If you truly meant what you just said, you would not have so frequently left my
side these many months," Boromir retorted with heat.
Aragorn ached to hear the hurt in his lover's voice. There was emotion between
these two men, and that could not bode well for the fledgling love between
himself and Boromir.
Theodred stirred uncomfortably.
"But what do you know of this Aragorn? You may find that your idolised king has
clay feet if you learn more about him," Theodred said softly.
"My love for Aragorn is beyond learning or unlearning. I know it in my soul as
an absolute truth," Boromir retorted.
"You both became acquainted during one brief period, while on a quest of immense
stress. How do you know if you two are compatible, even for more than a few
months let alone eternity? I have loved you ever since we reached manhood,
perhaps even before. I know you, Boromir, my darling, I know you in ways no
other living soul does. Does this count for nothing? Does this great Aragorn's
'love' render all our wonderful years and heated embraces null and void? We
learned about pleasure in each other's arms," Theodred said passionately.
"And what you learned in my embrace you gave freely to other men in other beds,"
Boromir said bitterly.
"So you would cast me from your life? Because Aragorn offers you fidelity? Does
he please you, Boromir? Can he? A man chained to an elf wench for most of his
adult life?" Theodred asked.
"That is not your concern. And I would not throw you aside so carelessly
Theodred, you should know me better than that. I hope to be able to still call
you friend after today," Boromir said, more gently this time.
Theodred rose from his chair and knelt at Boromir's feet. He gazed up at the man
with the full force of his beauty, and the Man of Gondor could not help but
tremble.
"Won't you miss me, Boromir? Not even a little?" he whispered.
Outside the door Aragorn held his breath and tried not to give in to the tears
that stung his eyes.
Boromir took many long moments before he answered, and when he spoke Aragorn
could hear the tears in his reply. "I have been missing you for as long as I
have loved you, my wanton love. I cannot bear that burden anymore. Forgive me."
Boromir rose from his chair and strode towards the door. Aragorn scurried across
the dining hall, Ranger light, and hid in the shadows of the adjoining corridor
that led to the kitchens below.
"Boromir, you wound me. But if you should ever need me again, I am merely a
letter or a quick ride away," Theodred said. He tried to hold Boromir as he left
the room, but the man was stiff and unyielding, and his tears were dry upon his
cheeks, and his eyes fiercely determined.
Theodred had no choice but to leave. It was an old argument, and he knew it
would not be won this day. But he would wait.
Boromir took a few moments to compose himself before leaving the small room. He
was startled to bump into Aragorn, who immediately took his shaking hands in his
own weapon and weather roughened ones—how comforting that was!
Boromir understood in a moment, after looking into his lover's eyes, that
Aragorn had heard the entire exchange. He hesitated as the former king came
forward to hold him, feeling a sudden hesitation and unworthiness to touch this
man, who represented all that was brave and noble in his heart's eye.
"Perhaps Theodred was right...what is it truly that you know of me and I of you?
You might not love what you learn of me...," he said brokenly.
"Ssh," Aragorn hushed him. He put his arms around the strong slim waist and
kissed Boromir deeply, with much emotion.
When he withdrew from the kiss to regard his worried lover, Aragorn was glad to
feel the strong arms encircling his waist.
"Boromir, I know that you were raised a Steward's heir in Gondor, and that you
are acutely aware that I am Isildur's Heir and so on and so forth, man of a
thousand names and ten thousand titles and legacies. You can't help it that you
stand at attention the moment you leave your private quarters, never placing a
foot out of place nor speaking out of turn, unless need demands it. Always you
feel on display, always you are being judged for your worthiness. I know how
terrifying that can be," Aragorn began.
"But I fell in love with a man of strong opinions and fierce emotion; a man of
noble spirit and an even greater heart. You don't need to be afraid of revealing
yourself to me. I love you and in many ways we already know each other very
deeply, the days of the quest brought us together in a way no other journey
could have done. I do not think my feelings would change, not with time, not
with anything...," he added.
"This great heart you speak of, Aragorn, it failed the Fellowship and almost
brought us all to ruin," Boromir whispered, his eyes alight with pain—and
shame.
Aragorn placed a hand on Boromir's arm. "Forgive yourself Boromir. Give yourself
the room and the time to learn that my love for you is true."
"And am I enough to soothe the pain of her absence? I am terrified Aragorn, that
I will awake one morning and find that you long for her again, you were never a
lover of men before, and that is something born from our deepest nature. I
desperately want to keep you, and I wish I were a better man, and then I would
stand a better chance," Boromir said. He closed his eyes. There, it was spoken.
"I cannot deny that a part of me will always miss her. But you must know that
you have always had me, Boromir. Always. Perhaps not exactly like this, but you
have been a true friend to me all this while; the memory of you kept me strong;
kept me good for Gondor," Aragorn said with great force.
"Our lives were so burdened by the demands of the past. Here, I want to build a
future with you, now that I am free and you are free and we are among friends.
Surely we have found heaven if only we can be brave enough to claim it for
ourselves," Aragorn stared intently at Boromir.
He pulled a stray lock of reddish blonde hair from Boromir's cheek and then
caressed the strong jaw line. Boromir's teeth were clenched.
"And you would have me as I am? Flawed as I am? You, the hero descended from a
line of kings?" Boromir asked, only the hint of a quaver in his deep, rich
voice.
"I only found my destiny after I lost you," Aragorn replied in a fierce whisper.
"You called me brother, captain and king...I never had a worthier accolade. Ah,
Boromir! I would have you call me lover too, faults, warts and all," he smiled.
Boromir drew him close, no longer caring what curious eyes would think. "My
love," he said simply, softly, his voice thick with emotion.
Long moments passed as they both contemplated endless days like these together.
Boromir sniffed, and Aragorn feared he may be undone by emotion.
He kissed him, and then laughed, cuddling into his chest again. "Boromir, you
promised to make an honest man out of me last night. So I expect a splendid
wedding feast, and some music and dancing, and tournaments...,"
"My goodness! Not even in the marriage harness yet and here I am at the mercy of
a tyrant," Boromir jested, getting into the mood, glad that the sombre, serious
tone was lighter now, and that Aragorn was settled in his arms.
"We can get Éomer and his men to do a parade on horseback," Boromir
paused. "Where is Éomer? Is that him, by the river all alone?"
Boromir's sharp eyes were cast out a large picture window that ventilated the
grand dining hall.
Aragorn turned to look. Yes, Boromir was always sensitive to a comrade's
distress; he was very protective that way.
"Maybe I should go and talk to him. I have found so much happiness I must be
careful not to neglect my friends," Boromir said, giving Aragorn a good squeeze
to let him know he was loved, even as he prepared to speak to his friend.
"Boromir, a moment. What of Lothiriel, his wife? Has she not been found?"
Aragorn asked.
Boromir looked at Aragorn, and then sighed deeply. "I don't know if you noticed
during your reign, but Éomer and Lothiriel were...not suited. She is
here, but she has bound herself to another, with Éomer's blessing. He
told us this had happened when he met up with Faramir and me."
Aragorn remembered that Éomer had always been more eager to leave his
wife and single son at home to adventure and fight with him than Faramir, who
although a most loyal Steward, was always loathe to be parted from Éowyn.
"He has a passion for men," Aragorn said. "I knew this."
Boromir sighed and nodded. "It is not uncommon in Rohan. If Theodred had not
died, he could have lived his life with honour bound to any one of his men of
high birth. But instead, he became king, and was obliged to produce an heir for
his people."
"Poor Lothiriel. Poor Éomer, how hard and lonely his life must have
been," Aragorn said.
"Perhaps, Boromir, I should go and talk to him. We had a conversation shortly
before he died that we never got to finish," Aragorn said.
"You seem sad, Éomer?" Aragorn said mildly and warmly as he strode up
to the man who was now seated on the river bank, contemplating the setting sun.
"I am haunted by memory today," Éomer said softly. Then he smiled that
familiar hearty smile that Aragorn had grown to trust and love through many
battles and feasts and firelight conversations.
"I hope Boromir is going to ask me lead the cavalry parade at your wedding
feast?" Éomer asked.
Aragorn started and Éomer laughed heartily.
"Ah! I am right! He is such a traditional man, Aragorn, and all great men in
Gondor dream of their wedding feast, with a grand display by the Rohirrim,"
Éomer said.
"We would be honoured if you would oblige us," Aragorn said sitting down beside
his old friend and comrade-in-arms. How he had missed these quiet talks with
Éomer, as he grew older and the great King of Rohan lay cold in a grand
tomb.
"I am happy for you both. Although I love him most dearly, I always felt that my
dear cousin's carelessness with the hearts of others made him less than worthy
for one like Boromir," Éomer said.
"Now I suppose he will think more on settling down with one of his many lovers,"
the blonde man added. "That will do him some good, I am sure."
"And you, Éomer?" Aragorn asked. "Is there one you miss as you cast your
eyes far into the horizon of memory? You hinted once that you had found him, but
I always believed the war took him away from you."
Éomer looked at Aragorn with haunted eyes for long moments, with a half
smile of pure tenderness and infinite sadness.
"He had hair like morning sunlight on silver water, and even in stillness, he
was more fair than any other I have ever known, in life or in dreams,"
Éomer said softly.
"I did an evil thing, Aragorn, I cut a lock of his hair when he was lying
comatose in the sun! I must have been possessed by some madness, but if you only
knew the comfort those fine strands have given me through the loneliness of my
life, you might forgive me," Éomer reached into his heavy tunic and
pulled out a small locket made of fine gold.
Aragorn's eyes widened, he had seen that locket before, Éomer had never
been without it for as long as Aragorn knew him...no that wasn't right. He
started wearing it, shortly after they met—Aragorn remembered it reflecting
the sun as Éomer bathed or shaved during their many travels together.
He had worn the locket ever since Helm's Deep.
The former king's friend opened the locket with tender reverence.
Inside were six strands of long silver blonde hair coiled neatly. Aragorn knew
that no human hair would be so pliant, obedient and strong—and still so
exquisitely glossy after so many decades.
"I left orders that I be buried with it, and it came with me here to this
realm," Éomer said, "Although I know, he will never follow."
Aragorn was speechless, as all became clear.
"I never knew him, but surely a warrior who risked eternity for a friend
deserves to be exalted in song and not just in my humble heart. I may be a king
of men, but with just one glance I knew that trying to win him would be like
trying to rope the wind," Éomer said.
"Haldir was his name, and he was among the elves who recovered from their ordeal
and injuries after being left to heal in the Forest of Ents. You told me he was
crippled and marred; that he set sail for Valinor with his people. I never spoke
to him, but I think, I think, the dream of him, the foolish fantasy of us has
warmed me in my loneliness," Éomer laughed.
He caressed the locks just once with a calloused, rough finger, and then he
placed them into his locket and put it back into his tunic.
Éomer smiled at Aragorn shyly, "You must think me so sorry and foolish a
man."
Aragorn regarded his noble friend, and grieved in his heart that the death realm
of men was forever torn asunder from the undying lands of the elves.
Éomer looked out over the water.
"I think, Éomer, knowing Haldir as I did, that he would have loved a man
like you. So, no, you are not so very foolish, not to me. And I think, not to
Haldir, for all that he was proud he had a pure heart and would have valued
emotion such as your love, which he would have known to be true."
Éomer smiled, and cuffed away a small tear that rolled down his cheek
into his neatly trimmed beard.
The friends sat in silence for awhile, thinking of Haldir.
Aragorn closed his eyes and made a promise to himself never to tell Éomer
the truth about Haldir. His back had been grossly scarred after the battle, and
because of the nerve damage, his arrows were less sure and his blade less
lethal; his famed graceful carriage was ruined by a limp.
Haldir set sail for Valinor broken in body and spirit. No longer quick enough
for battle, and no longer fair enough for Celeborn's bed, and never having been
of ruling class blood, he had left rankless and alone for Valinor.
Aragorn had begged his dear friend to stay in Gondor to be feted as a hero, ah,
had he only known of Éomer's affections for the elf lord he would have
carted Haldir to Rohan post haste—kicking and screaming if necessary.
But Haldir had said he could not bear to see Aragorn grow old and die, he would
like to remember him as he was—triumphant, and young and in love.
Let Éomer remember Haldir as he was, gloriously brave and exquisitely
beautiful.
Aragorn felt bereft suddenly, missing the woman and the adopted family he had
loved among the elves.
He had Boromir, what a great comfort that was, but he wished, with all his
might, that Éomer might gain some happiness now after so much sorrow.
The sun set; and night crept quietly over to blanket the two men in darkness.
End
Embracing Sons of Gondor
by Dayast Joy
Haunted by Memory
t is strange that you should suffer so much fear and doubt over so little a
thing," Boromir said with a small laugh.
