Part Two
Prince Boragorn's nurse discreetly closed the door as she exited the room,
smiling to herself at the morning scene of the king happily and snugly wrapped
in the arms of his lover, Gondor's greatest Lord, Boromir son of the last ruling
Steward, Denethor. Eryn had been enraptured by Boromir's beauty ever since he
came of age, as all women in her generation were.
Well, at least his love was worthy of him, odd choice that he was.
She had been greeted with this tender scene for the past two weeks, during the
king's holiday at Emyn Arnen, the Steward's seat.
The three-year-old prince toddled determinedly up to the large bed, and then
launched himself manfully onto the bed clothes and scrambled up so he could kiss
his mother's now royal nose.
"Goo morning fah-da," Borrie said, pleased at his own feat of athleticism which
he had perfected over the last two weeks.
"Good morning, Borrie," Aragorn said, returning the kiss.
"Good, not goo," corrected a freshly awakened Boromir. He pulled the blanket up
to cover himself and Aragorn up to their necks with subconscious modesty.
"Gooddd morning Boh-mir," Borrie said obediently. He kissed his champion too,
and the man smiled back at his little son, amused.
"Swim today, fah-da said," Borrie said, his command of the language still fairly
poor. The elves were often shocked at Borrie's ungainly gait and his poor
speech, but Elrond constantly assured them that it was normal for baby humans.
Aragorn's councillors assured him that the prince was the most beautiful and
brilliant and brave child in the world, barring the young glorious King Elessar
himself of course (this regardless of the fact that none had known him during
his childhood), but Aragorn knew they were prejudiced.
He was comforted by Elrond's observations but rather wished they wouldn't be so
frequently accompanied by accounts of his own childhood, when apparently he was
clumsy, often confused and rarely coherent. But he had been very cute, Elrond
recalled fondly, and the brightest of all the line.
Aragorn hoped this was a compliment.
Boromir seemed happy enough that Borrie liked playing with his toy swords and
shields, running about, shouting in a war-like fashion at play and riding the
larger dogs of Minas Tirith. The little prince had his own horse from one of
his biggest fans, King Éomer of Rohan, but he couldn't ride it unsupervised
until he was much older.
Talk and letters could be developed later (in Boromir's mind these were less
important skills than manliness and martial prowess) although he was always
careful to make sure that his son formed his words correctly, so he didn't sound
like the peasant village idiot or a poncey elf. (The last opinion he kept to
himself, he knew how fond Aragorn was of Haldir).
"Swim? You just had your bath yesterday," Boromir asked his son.
"Bath in tub, swim in river. Today. Fah-da said," Borrie smiled impishly. He
couldn't form proper sentences yet, but he was certainly determined to get his
own way.
"I did promise him. And since we are on holiday, we can spare a day for a
picnic. I don't want to sit in council today if I can help it," Aragorn said. He
snuggled closer to Boromir pre-empting any protest. He too was often determined
to get his own way.
"Mmm," Boromir said. He had had other ideas on how to spend the morning, but
he'd better allow himself to be bullied a little now so Aragorn would be most
grateful come nightfall.
"Alright. You have a lie in and I'll go prepare for our outing," Boromir said.
"Come along, Borrie."
"Yay!" crowed the happy child.
Aragorn strode out into the morning sun with Legolas and two of the elf lord's
warriors at his side. The Lord of Ithilien was on holiday too. The elves could
keep watch while they picnicked, although there had not been any dark things in
the area for years, thanks to Faramir's vigilant rule and Aragorn's fierce
protection.
The small party gaped at the twenty mounted knights of Gondor and thirty sturdy
foot soldiers who greeted them at the courtyard.
"All hail the king!" bellowed the captain.
A thunderous salute of: "Hail! Hail!" almost drove Aragorn and the elves back
inside.
Aragorn dipped his head graciously at the salute and waved regally.
Boromir appeared from somewhere among the throng of steel and men, bearing
Prince Boragorn, who was clad in boots, sturdy leather hose, a long-sleeved
inner tunic, a half sleeve woollen outer tunic, a small leather breastplate,
tiny arm guards, and a cloak with a protective hood emblazoned with the arms of
Gondor.
"Is there a war on I didn't know about?" Aragorn asked, baffled.
"Well, aren't we venturing outdoors? With your son and heir?" Boromir asked. "As
his champion and your most loyal servant I thought to take the proper
precautions."
The elves were trying hard not to giggle. It did seem more like a march to
battle than a morning picnic by the river.
"I thought you were just going to ask the kitchen to pack sandwiches," Aragorn
said.
"Ah yes, bring forth the pack horses for the king's approval," Boromir
commanded.
Three fully loaded pack horses were led forward, laden with meats, sweets,
bottles of wine and mead, fruit, plates, eating knives wrapped in linen and two
rolls of fine fur for picnic mats.
"The men have their own supplies for the day," Boromir explained, seeing
Aragorn's eyes bug. Were the day's supplies too modest? Aragorn was now king
after all.
"Should I get more food and perhaps ask for some serving wenches to accompany
us?" Boromir asked.
"We aren't going to a picnic with a band of hobbits! How are we to eat all this
food?" Aragorn cried.
"And all these men, surely it is overkill," he continued, vexed. All he wanted
was a quiet picnic with Boromir, his son and some friends.
"They are only a fraction of your usual escort. What if we were to be attacked?
And everyone was slain? And you were left all alone and helpless with poor
Borrie?" Boromir asked. Obviously this was one of his favourite nightmares;
never mind that he was the one who had been felled by Uruk arrows, not Aragorn.
"We have three elves, one of whom is Legolas, with us. And helpless? Boromir, I
am the same man I was during the war, I have neither grown slovenly nor slow nor
old," Aragorn said, bristling.
Boromir, who tended to look at Aragorn more with tender protectiveness than
brotherly respect since the birth of Borrie, realised his mistake. "Uh, I meant
Borrie might be helpless...,"
"I'm not helpless! I'm a Man of Gondor! I can fight orcs! I'll protect the
king!" said Borrie manfully.
Aragorn smiled fondly at his three-year-old son. These sentences he learned like
some elf children learned the lines of classic songs, which was why he
pronounced them so well. Boromir had clearly been teaching him about his
traditional duties as Prince, and made him repeat these lines until he had them
committed to memory; as no doubt a whole line of little Stewards to be and
little princes had done before him.
After a few more exchanged words, and soothing reassurances from Aragorn (he had
learned that batting his eyes and smiling could achieve wonders in persuading
Boromir to relent, much better than any shouting or bullying could) it was
decided that the party would go picnicking with one pack horse (no serving
wenches), five knights and ten foot soldiers. And Borrie could take off his
cloak as he was turning red from the heat.
"Your Majesty!"
Aragorn looked up at the startled cry as he pulled off his leggings for a swim.
Boromir was thundering towards him from a small distance away where he had been
chatting with a knight. He was severely agitated!
Aragorn quickly looked around, senses alert. No orcs...what then?
Boromir threw his cloak around Aragorn.
"Boromir, I'm about to swim," Aragorn protested. Honestly, all these Gondorian
conventions and rules about modesty were seriously outmoded.
Boromir gasped in horror when Borrie trotted up to them, stark raving naked. A
nude Legolas was folding the prince's clothes neatly into a pile on the ground.
"The prince! He is not decent...and he will catch cold exposed thus to the
elements!" Boromir broke into a sweat, torn between protecting his king's
modesty and that of their little son.
"Calm down, Boromir! It is a very hot day, and I'm sure the men could not care
less to see a naked man and boy-child having a swim, especially as I don't have
any suspicious stretch marks," Aragorn chuckled, adding the last in a low
whisper.
"But you are the king!" Boromir protested.
"I am a man, Boromir, not some virgin maid with swelling breasts. And soon I'll
be in the water and so will Borrie. No harm will come to us, I spent much of my
time in Rivendell naked," Aragorn explained.
Boromir's eyes narrowed. He'd always thought there was a pervy air around Lord
Elrond, and now his suspicions were confirmed.
Suddenly another thought occurred to him.
"Why mention swelling breasts?" he asked, hurt.
Aragorn froze. Arwen's marriage to Erestor had motivated him to bring Boromir
back to Gondor from the death realm, but his lover sometimes felt that he had
come in a poor second. Especially when Aragorn even vaguely hinted at his
appreciation for a woman's bosom.
"Most virgin maids have small breasts or none at all," Boromir said huffily. He
had read many racy books with detailed pictures at puberty, and been hounded by
eager young maids intent on deflowering him during his handsome youth.
Aragorn opened his mouth to speak, but Boromir wasn't finished.
"Why not a snowy, beautiful bottom or fair, shiny locks?" he continued in the
same indignant vein. Both of these assets Boromir himself possessed and was
secretly proud of, although his masculine identity did not allow him to openly
express pride in such quintessentially feminine attributes.
"Boromir, it was just what popped into my mind. It was a thoughtless, careless
comment," Aragorn explained.
"How often do full breasted maids pop into your mind? And do they have dark hair
like the night?" Boromir queried. He really was feeling rather vulnerable out in
the open with his king and their precious son, both of whom insisted on being
naked without a decent sized escort. And he really wished that he hadn't gotten
up so quickly to start preparations for the outing, his sex could have done with
some early morning attention. He was in a rather foul mood.
Legolas cleared his throat.
"I have a leaf to keep the sun out of Borrie's eyes," the elf said, smiling
kindly at poor speechless Aragorn.
He carried Borrie and pressed the dry leaf over his head, it fit perfectly
behind his ears and over his fluffy blonde hair, although not so perfectly as it
would have fit around a small elf head.
At the sight of his worried looking little son Boromir became abashed. He had to
remind himself children were always listening, even if they stayed quiet when
adults argued. He instantly beamed.
"I was just teasing your father, Borrie," he said gently. The prince smiled
winningly back, he hadn't understood most of the conversation, although he
hadn't liked the tone. He was much happier that his champion seemed to have
recovered his usual good spirits.
Boromir felt a pang of fierce joy and protectiveness when he saw his own smile
on that small trusting face with Aragorn's eyes. He felt very badly for being so
fussy now, after all, his king had given him such a truly marvellous gift and
had gone through great pains for it. He would have to tell him about how he felt
tonight, though not in front of their men and sharp eared elves!
He retrieved his cloak, heart in his eyes as he locked glances with Aragorn, and
then extended his hand courteously towards the river so they could go for a
swim.
Aragorn kissed him briefly on the cheek as he took Borrie from Legolas.
"Some meat, Legolas?" Boromir asked, offering him a well laden dish.
Legolas lifted a skewer of meat and nodded in thanks.
The blonde man sat heavily beside Legolas, still in his thick leather outer
tunic and summer cloak. It struck the elf as odd that Boromir was always
decorous and well groomed; he almost never exposed his nudity in public,
although from their infrequent baths during the quest, Legolas remembered that
Boromir was an exquisitely well made man.
Boromir stoically and politely ignored the elf lord's nakedness, staring out
into the distance as they spoke, seated side by side. It was more comfortable
that way. Talking face to face for long moments hinted at intimacy among
fighting men, and Legolas knew Aragorn, for all his confidence and quiet, was a
very jealous man.
"You have a letter from Ori?" Boromir asked, smiling. "I always recognise the
red crayon."
"Ori likes to show off, Haldir says he gets it from Father and Father says he
gets it from Haldir," Legolas said with a laugh. The usually stern and quiet elf
always became animated when talking about his little half brother.
"How quickly elven children grow in their skills. Borrie won't be writing for
some years yet," Boromir said. He smiled with undisguised fondness at his son,
who was paddling enthusiastically and almost blinding Argaorn with mighty
splashes in the nearby river.
"Father will teach him his weapons soon, and Haldir will teach him his letters
and lore and history," Legolas said quietly. "Or maybe Elrond will teach him. He
taught me when I was little and visited Rivendell."
The elf sighed suddenly with so much sadness that Boromir started.
"What is the matter, Legolas?" Boromir asked.
"I have been trying for so long, for a child," the elf admitted.
"I thought it would be easy, being bigender. All father ever had to do was set
his mind to it and it was done within weeks, similarly for Elrond and his former
wife," Legolas said.
At the mention of her, Boromir noted that Legolas's voice hardened noticeably.
"Was it hard for you and Aragorn?" he asked.
Boromir's brow furrowed in thought.
From the very first after their return journey from the death realm, Aragorn had
insisted Boromir take pleasure in his new opening. The Lord of Gondor had
assumed then that Aragorn had always possessed it; perhaps it was some
aberration of the physical make-up of the royal line, so it seemed natural that
his king would have urges of that nature needing fulfilment. He only learned
after Borrie was born that Aragorn was eager to have a child to silence the
pro-marriage lobby among his councillors. Gondor needed an heir and Aragorn
being Aragorn, he had just gone ahead and done it effectively and discreetly.
"To be honest, it seemed in no time at all, less than two seasons after our
return from the death realm that Borrie was on his way, and me totally
bewildered, and scared and protective and delighted all at once," Boromir said
with one of his infectious grins.
"But Legolas, Elrond already has children. I'm sure he would rather you be happy
instead of fretting over a matter such as this," Boromir said kindly.
"And being immortal, it is not as if you need heirs," the Lord of Gondor added.
"It is true that Elrond has children, but they are hers," Legolas said bitterly.
Aragorn had told Boromir enough so that the man knew that Elrond's and
Celebrian's union had been a contractual one to produce royal offspring, future
leaders for their people after the first great war's dark times, and that she
preferred elf women. But they had been very fond of each other and very close
right up until she left for Valinor. Moreover, much later, Elrond had not
consented to bind himself to Legolas until Haldir's intervention during the
post-ring quest months spent preparing for the latter's union with Thranduil.
Boromir thought about his own jealousy towards Arwen, and how much Borrie had
done to alleviate that nagging feeling of insecurity and he sympathised greatly
with Legolas.
Legolas chewed silently on the skewered meat chunks.
"I do not think he loves you any less for it, Legolas. And who knows, perhaps
with time..." Boromir tried to comfort his friend.
"Thank you, Boromir, for your kindness," Legolas said with one of his rare warm
smiles, reserved only for close friends; but it was tinged slightly with
sadness. "I knew you would understand."
Boromir smiled in return, but he worried for Legolas's new union. Here was the
Lord of Ithilien on holiday and Lord Elrond far away in the Wood of Greenleaves
with Haldir and Thranduil and their son, Legolas's little half brother, Orophin,
or Ori for short. The child had been named in memory of Haldir's youngest
brother who had perished courageously but tragically at Helm's Deep.
He knew little of elven unions, but had had the pleasure of visiting with
Thranduil and Haldir shortly after Ori's arrival, during the early months of
Aragorn's then secret pregnancy. The elf lords' mutual affection was very
apparent, as was their passion, sometimes to the point that Boromir with all his
Gondorian hang-ups thought it was embarrassingly obvious.
Legolas and Elrond were warm, but not remarkably tender towards each other,
which was odd, considering that their union was still so young. Perhaps it had
to do with Legolas's romantic inexperience, or Elrond's restraint cultivated
from lifetimes of ruling in difficult times, but things did not seem quite right
with them.
Boromir decided he must ask Aragorn to write to Elrond and ask him to visit, and
he might as well ask Haldir along as well (if Thranduil could be pried off him
long enough). The elf was snooty and annoying, but he was indispensable when it
came to sorting out romantic relationships. His skills as a diplomat were
unparalleled, as was his knowledge of all gossip.
Boromir had been brought up to rule, so he was perhaps more sensitive to the
personal politics of great lords than Aragorn.
Both friends sat in silence for a while after that, watching Aragorn and his
miraculous heir play in the river, their laughter carrying across the green
fields bathed in sunlight.
End
Heir of Gondor
by Dayast Joy
Picnic preparations
ragorn awoke to the patter of tiny feet.
