The Sky's Not Crying
Frodo placed a hand on Sam's shoulder in reassurance. "I'm sure the rain
will stop soon, Sam."
"Well, can you at least tell Pip to shut up? I don't need to hear about
Tooks and their wonderful water resilience."
Across the cave in which the Fellowship had taken refuge, Boromir couldn't
help but smile at the Hobbits' antics. It reminded him of the carefree times
he had spent with his brother, before duty had made him a soldier and
swordsman. Faramir had been only six to Boromir's twelve and he hadn't
understood that suddenly his brother's time would be spent on the practice
field instead of in the nursery. Boromir wasn't sure that, even now, Faramir
had forgiven him for deserting him so soon after their mother's death.
Faramir had been the scholar even then. He had demanded more and more
stories from their tutor, while Boromir had been content to merely hear
stories of famous battles. Even at that age their differences had been
apparent. Even before he knew what it truly was to be a leader of men,
Boromir had shunned the idea that the kings of old would return and set
everything right, while Faramir clung to it the same way a child does to a
favorite toy.
And the kings would not return. Boromir had seen to that, hadn't he, with
his rash words in council. Aragorn had already been wary of taking the
crown. How else was Isildur's Heir to react when the next in the line of
Stewards had informed him, quite bluntly, that he wasn't welcome or wanted?
How else was he to react when the future of Gondor went around molesting
heirlooms, and harboring thoughts of molesting heirs?
'Boromir, this won't do,' he chided himself. He had gone over this time and
time again during their two month journey. Aragorn was his king, even if
neither of them acknowledged that fact. And Aragorn was betrothed, as any
good heir to a throne should be. Boromir had been reminded seemingly every
day he was in Minas Tirith that he had not taken a wife. And he had no
intention to, especially now that he had seen Aragorn.
Oh, Aragorn. Would that all his troubles were as wonderful as the man
himself. Aragorn was tall, like the elves from whom he was descended. Quick
with a bow, as well as with a sword. A skilled tracker and hunter. And
totally, completely, out of Boromir's reach. Indeed, there wasn't even the
slightest chance of getting what Boromir would have given his life to have.
He had thrown away all chance of closeness with the man the moment he had
declared that Gondor had no need for a king. And, thus, no need for Aragorn.
"But, Merry, how else do you expect me to uphold my family name if I can't
proclaim myself a Took in front of this Baggins-of-the-hill?" Pippin whined.
"It's not like his family was the longest lived in the Shire!"
"Pippin..." Frodo sighed. "Please. We're all short-tempered now. Can we not
leave this until tomorrow?"
"Must be a Hobbit thing."
Boromir jumped at the sound of the voice in his ear. He turned around
quickly, hand already on his sword. A part of his mind told him that was
foolish, as only one of the Fellowship would have been able to sneak in
here, or would refer to the little ones as Hobbits. Needless to say, that
part of his mind was not the one in control.
"Aragorn. Must you go out of your way to scare me?"
Boromir could have sworn that Aragorn almost smiled at this. "My apologies,
then. I had thought I made a significant amount of noise in approaching you.
It seems I had forgotten to consider our entertainment for the evening in my
calculations."
Boromir nodded, aware that he was being made fun of. "Well, it seems that I
am truly a man then, and no elf, for I did not hear you come." Oh, bad
choice of words, Boromir. Don't even think of that. The man is your king!
"What can I do for you?"
'Smile, for one thing!' Aragorn clamped down on his tongue before the words
came out. This man did not care for him, and would certainly not welcome a
criticism on his lack of cheer. By all accounts, the man didn't even like
him. "Will you take first watch tonight," he asked instead. "Though he will
not admit it, Legolas needs sleep and I know that if he takes first watch
he'll stay awake all night."
Something akin to irritation flashed across Boromir's face. "Of course. The
elf needs his rest."
Aragorn frowned. "What's troubling you, Boromir?"
"What makes you think something is troubling me?"
Aragorn could almost hear the 'why don't you just assume it's the Ring, like
everyone else?' implied in the question, and he winced internally. What had
he done to make Boromir have such a low estimation of him? And what could he
do to remedy that fact? Aragorn had no delusions of what he was. And what he
was at that moment, and indeed for the past several months, was harboring a
deep desire for Boromir of Gondor. "You did not hear me approach."
"I am not elven, Aragorn. I'm mere mortal."
Again the bitterness. Again the reference to elves. "Boromir, please. I want
to help you."
"I am beyond help."
"No man is ever beyond help. There is always hope left."
"Not for this."
Aragorn thought for a moment and then took a deep breath. He had to ask. "Do
you pine for someone, Boromir of Gondor?"
Aragorn had not thought Boromir's expression could grow more guarded. "In
truth, I do."
"Oh."
"Don't you?"
Boromir could give lessons to poison. "Yes, I do pine. But I do not let it
consume me, as it seems you are letting it." Unconsciously, Aragorn leaned
forward and moved closer to Boromir.
Boromir closed his eyes in seeming defeat and then, in a burst of strength,
pushed Aragorn away. "It is none of your business, son of Arathorn. I will
take first watch as you ask." And before Aragorn could answer, Boromir had
stalked away, much to the amazement of the watching Hobbits.
He had been so close. By Elbereth, he had been so close. Aragorn could not
have known what was going through Boromir's mind as he leaned forward, and
indeed, if he had known he probably would have run screaming from the cave
out into the rain.
Boromir sighed, and adjusted his seat on the rock. All was quiet this night.
The Hobbits seemed to have called a truce and were sleeping in their usual
pile near the embers of the fire. The dwarf was sleeping off to the side,
but ready to spring up at any moment. He was second watch, but Boromir was
in no hurry to wake him. There was something soothing about being the only
one awake, about being trusted to watch over everyone. The elf was sleeping,
and Aragorn quite close to him. Boromir felt a stab of jealousy and buried
it as quickly as he could. Aragorn had been raised among elves. It was only
logical that he should take to them more than to his own kind. Be more
worried about them. Stay around them more. Talk about them more. Care for
them. Try to cheer them up.
Boromir laughed at himself. 'There you go, as if you have an excuse to be
jealous. Aragorn may have been born a man, but he was raised an elf. He's
one of them, not one of you. He's attracted to elves, and it is among them
that he feels most comfortable, not among a stranger from the land of
men.' And it was true. Aragorn spent more time with the elf than with anyone
on this journey, save perhaps the fallen Gandalf. Boromir had no reason to
be jealous; the others had known Aragorn far longer than he had. Yet there
he was, sitting on a rock in the middle of the wilderness, wondering how he
could go about stealing his king's heart. The entire idea was laughable.
But he wasn't laughing anymore.
by Lanna Michaels
weet is the sound of the pouring rain', indeed," Sam grumbled. "Though
what I wouldn't do for a mug of beer."
