Surrender to the King
A small sound caught his attention and he turned to
see Aragorn silhouetted against the morning sun. His
hair blazed in the golden rays, his profile absolutely
vigorous and radiant. This form before him was surely
a distillation of the best of Gondor. As it had been
since leaving Rivendell, he longed to reach out and
touch tenderly this person who promised fulfillment
for his land and people. Yet he clearly felt that
Aragorn saw him as a rival. The stubborn set of his
jaw, clenched tighter, whenever he, Boromir, asked a
question. A rival for what, he could not say, Gondor,
perhaps?
Once, when in Rivendell, he had rested his hand on the
back of Aragorn's, where it had remained, their eyes
locked together. Moments it had lasted...longer than
moments. He had been sure that Aragorn would feel his
offer, his surrender, in that gesture. But Aragorn had
pulled back and away. So Boromir would show his love
with valor and with the blade. Could he then refuse
his heart? Boromir smiled. Today was his day to be
last in the line of the Fellowship, to guard the rear.
Aragorn would be walking ahead of him, he mused to
himself, as he laced up his boots. His chance to
watch, unobserved, with wonder and love, the man he
called Aragorn.
He had been daydreaming again: loving dreams of desire
for Aragorn. Boromir shook himself slightly and
glanced around at his companions. Legolas was speaking
softly to Haldir in elvish and gesturing at their
respective bows, probably trading tips or compliments.
The hobbits were nowhere in sight. They were probably
all off bathing together somewhere. Aragorn was
sitting near, but with his back to him, obviously not
wanting to talk. The loss of Gandalf had dampened the
spirits of the Fellowship. And, judging from the
snoring, Gimli slept heavily not far away.
The audience with Celeborn and Galadriel had left him
shaken. He was feeling tired and more than a little
angry. He was the one, after all, who had grabbed
Frodo and physically hauled him out of Moria. Why did
his actions always seem to inspire questions and
doubts? His loyalty to the Fellowship and the Quest he
had proven time and again. Maybe he should have just
let Frodo throw himself off the bridge after Gandalf.
Of course that would have meant the loss of the Ring.
And that he could not abide. So he had carried the
hysterical hobbit kicking and screaming all the way up
and out of the mines.
Now he lay back on the soft leaves and gazed upwards.
Lothlórien was unnerving and wondrous. All around him
the leaves shimmered in shades of green-gold, dancing
and vibrating as if to an unseen music. It all made
him feel insubstantial and unreal, like living inside
some kind of dream.
Feeling a little sorry for himself, his thoughts
shifted suspiciously.
To Sam.
Sam was always there, coddling Frodo. Sam was always
there, agreeing with and defending Frodo.
The more and more he thought of it, the more it
seemed that this whole distrust of him was the fault
of Sam.
Sam was always shielding Frodo from any differing
word or opinion. Sam soothing away any fear or doubt
Frodo might have about the Quest...or the fate of the
Ring.
Frodo might have given the Ring to him if not for Sam.
There really was no reason why Frodo should have to
bear the burden of the Ring all by himself.
If Frodo, was bound to the Ring and slave to its
fickle whims, then surely Sam was a slave to
Frodo...and Frodo's fickle whims. That kind of abject
loyalty was something that came from respect. Respect
earned; proven in deed and in battle.
Did you not also show such loyalty to a lover?
It came on him in an instant. Why hadn't he seen it
before? Sam was in love with Frodo! It was more than
just the Quest...Sam was a total slave to his love for
Frodo! His heart captured by those unbelievably
beautiful eyes. Those incredible blue eyes, always
full of pained looks and longing. Frodo's eyes were
always full of adoration for "his Sam".
His breath caught for a moment: God, would Aragorn
ever look at him in that way?
Sam's reason was clouded by love! That must be it...
that clouded judgment was going to carry, coddle, and
cajole Frodo all the way to Mordor. Where surely the
ring would fall back into Sauron's hands.
Oh poor Sam. He was going to have to have a talk with
him and set him straight.
It would do no good to talk of this openly around the
others though, it was too intimate. He was going to
have to find a moment where he and Sam could talk
alone. Maybe Sam could understand if he shared some of
his own feelings about Aragorn. What the mad torment
of love can do. Maybe he could gain Sam as an ally and
then perhaps turn the aim of the Quest. His people
would surely not hesitate to proclaim Aragorn king if
he brought a boon as great as the One Ring back to
Gondor.
For Aragorn then, and for the salvation of his people,
he would convince Sam of his folly. He must convince
him. Samwise would have to listen to reason.
Somewhere high up in the trees he heard the soft music
of tinkling chimes. It sounded like Galadriel's
laughter.
He rolled to his side on the soft spongy leaves. It
was nearly sunset and he watched as the rays of the
late afternoon sun filtered through the branches
above. Tonight he would find a way to talk to Sam,
alone, in a quiet secluded place.
Dinner always a majestic affair in Lothlórien, was
made more so for the Fellowship and myself, Estel. The
table was a large rectangle with Galadriel and
Celeborn seated together with the hobbits on one end,
Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, Haldir and I seated at the
other. The meal prepared for the Fellowship was
simple, yet elegant. There was fruit and wine, and
many plates were filled with a variety of breads and
nuts. A wonderful type of drink that tasted of tree
saps and sugars, that gave the feeling of floating
when you drank it, was served. I spoke softly to
Haldir about the next day's journey. I noticed that
Boromir would gaze intently at the Hobbits and then at
me. More than once I caught him staring at my face or
resting his gaze on some other part of me. I was
keenly aware of his infatuation.
What Boromir did not seem to realize, however, was
that I was becoming as deeply infatuated with him.
It was in Rivendell that he first began to intrigue
me. Tall, dark and passionate. He strutted through the
elven palaces and gardens with a clumsy sweetness, as
if he had always belonged there. In the meeting halls
and common rooms he would tell heroic tales of
Gondor's struggles. Always with a deep resonant voice
and with particular flair, gesturing with his arms, or
flourishing his sword to make the story more real and
lively. Once, in the garden below my window, I heard
him singing to a small group of elves. His voice low
and sweetly gruff. A beautiful song of Gondor about
the love between a warrior and his betrothed. A love
that could never be, for the warrior was destined to
die in a battle. I wept.
I felt more and more awkward around him. I watched him
with a growing sense of excitement and repressed
longing.
There really had been no time for Boromir and I in
Rivendell. How could I under Arwen's nose? I could not
hurt her so cruelly, so openly and force her to endure
the ill-perceived ridicule.
Gradually, on the road though, I became more and more
agitated and on edge around him, such was my constant
desire for his physical body. I satisfied myself with
stolen glances and once, touching with my own hand.
Imagining, in my mind's eye, both of us lying naked in
the other's arms.
What was this warrior like? Under all that leather?
This was my real conflict. I knew it was more than
just the sum of my sexual desire and infatuation. I
felt a completeness around him...just because he was
near to me. The tension that arose occasionally
between us was a rebellion, a futile attempt to deny
our physical desires and our deepest needs for one
another.
After the meal he moved his leg to rest against mine.
I had recently grown used to the idea of taking
comfort where I could...especially after the ordeal of
Moria. So I did not move my leg away as I normally
would have. I picked up my half-filled glass of wine
and tapped it lightly against his glass.
Boromir seemed somewhat surprised that I hadn't pulled
away from him. I was surprised I didn't. I was
surprised at his surprise. Under my leggings, I
stirred. I knew what it meant. His touch seemed the
most natural thing to me now. My eyes smoldered
intently into the sky blue of his. I would never again
pull away. My thoughts became focused with a sudden
purpose. He broke my gaze to glance up to where the
hobbits sat. Galadriel laughed suddenly and rose from
her seat.
"Good Guests, you must rest for tomorrow's journey and
we must prepare the items to complete your departure.
You will have your comforts and these will be as
normal as sleep to you here. The love of one's heart
can endure no pretense in Lothlórien, and all who come
here desire healing in this way. "
Her eyes twinkled once toward mine and she then looked
and smiled at Boromir.
I knew that tonight I would show Boromir how much I
felt I needed him.
Boromir lay quietly on his bed and waited until it
seemed the heavy sounds of sleep were the only sounds
around him. He rose and stole quietly down the path to
where a pair of hobbits were sleeping.
Aragorn lay awake also and heard Boromir move quietly
away. With stealth that only a ranger trained with
elves can possess, he silently rose and followed him.
Boromir wondered as he crept quietly down the path,
how was he going to get Samwise alone? Away from
Frodo? What excuse could he find?
As he rounded the corner, he stopped short, for there
was Galadriel leading Frodo away from his bed. Sam lay
sleeping still as Frodo followed Galadriel as if in a
stupor.
Galadriel had unintentionally solved his problem! Sam
was now alone! What a stroke of luck!
Boromir watched silently as Galadriel led Frodo away.
She stopped abruptly...as did an apparently
sleepwalking Frodo, then she turned to look directly
at him. Boromir gazed intently at her and watched as
silently she ran her fingers along her face, closed
her eyes, and laid a hand over her heart. Words
flashed through his mind....
"Do not fear that your love is in vain, Man of Gondor.
First yield to your heart's desire, and in time, you
will find it reflected back to you in kind." Slowly
she turned back around and resumed the slow pace with
a mesmerized Frodo, both moving farther and farther
away till they were lost from sight.
Had Galadriel just by happenstance given him this
chance to talk to Sam? Had it really been
unintentional? He didn't think that anything Galadriel
could do or say would be unintentional. She seemed a
very deliberate elf. Maybe she held no suspicion or
mistrust of him after all?
Did she know of his feelings for Aragorn? How could
she?
He shook his head slightly and brought his focus back
to himself and the task at hand. Slowly he inched his
way toward the sleeping Sam. He crept along the
ground, crouching down, and moving a hand up, he
clamped it firmly over Sam's mouth. Sam awoke
startled, and struggled in his grasp. Raising an index
finger to his lips in a "SSHH" Sam took a few seconds
to quiet as he moved his hand away.
"What's this ? Long-shanks?" Sam questioned. "Frodo?
Where's Frodo?"
"With Galadriel, and safe I think, so just relax my
friend," he paused, then he began again .."I have to
talk to you Sam. I think you are being misled. I
think your heart has led you to do strange things that
are not good for the Quest...or the Fellowship," he
stammered and the words seem to fall apart.
Here was this kind and loyal hobbit, Samwise
Gamgee...and what was he trying to say after all? How
could he say what no longer carried conviction...his
fearful and worried thoughts burst and floated away,
hollow and insubstantial. There was no blame here.
Where were his 'reasons'?
"Your love of Frodo...my love of...we can't let love
influence things...I mean the way we do or say...what
we do or say....The Ring needs to go to..." he
stammered and then broke off suddenly as a strong hand
clamped over his mouth. Aragorn crouched right behind
him. His hand held firmly over his mouth.
"Peace, Boromir," Aragorn whispered in his ear. "Sam,
go back to sleep. Boromir and I must talk. The Woods
of Lothlórien have stirred...," he paused, hand still
clamped tightly, "...much feeling." He nibbled on the
back of Boromir's neck and then angled his own head
slightly to give him a tender look.
"Yes, Strider," Sam mumbled and rolled lightly over to
return to sleep.
"You must come back and rest, for morning will come
too soon for us all." He winked at Boromir and then
stood up, letting his hand slide off his mouth, as he
moved away...motioning him to follow. Quietly they
slipped back down the path to where their own beds
lay.
Arriving, they both sat down, each on their respective
beds and looked at each other without saying a word.
Boromir lay back and watched as Aragorn lay back also.
He could see only Aragorn, all else was in shadow.
Aragorn moved to touch his chest and smiled. He
shifted his body closer. He then moaned and turned
closer to Boromir. Boromir could now see him clearly.
Aragorn's face framed beautifully in the night's
light.
"Boromir, you must forget the Ring and trust me" he
said, moving now so his whole body would lie atop,
pressing tightly against the man from Gondor. Boromir
strained against him but he did not struggle or pull
away. His eyes locked tightly in a match of wills with
Aragorn's.
Aragorn's eyes then welled up with tears, and Boromir
saw him completely, all this longing, all this inner
conflict, reflected his own, and then his tears began
too.
He realized it suddenly. He saw how deeply this man,
Isildur's heir, wanted him. "Aragorn" he murmured, and
he moved his arms. placing his hands so that he could
gently hold his face. Timidly, Boromir felt his face
and neck. Tenderly he moved his fingers to play
lightly with Aragorn's ears.
"You are utterly unique in all the world, Boromir.
Your beauty, your bravery, your grace..." His hand
stroked Boromir's hair and gently he bowed his head to
lightly kiss his chest. His teeth pulled lightly with
the fabric of his shirt. He looked up and smiled
broadly.
Stunned and shaking, Boromir stroked the stubble on
Aragorn's face. "I feel as if I have always known you
Aragorn...my heart...," his voice trailed to a
whisper.
"Aniron"...Aragorn murmured, planting small kisses
along his lips and chin. He stopped suddenly
remembering Boromir spoke no elvish, so he drew his
head back slightly and lifted it, as he looked deeply
into his eyes. "I desire nothing less than your
reckless heart Boromir, and into your hands I give you
mine."
Suddenly he found himself at a loss for words.
Boromir's mind reeled to take it all in. This is my
surrender...Oh My Captain and My King... "I love you
Aragorn."
He looked into the icy intensity of his incredible
eyes.
Then he, Boromir, Captain of Gondor, gave in...for he
could resist him no more...his mouth came up to meet
his, his lips parted, passion swelling in his body,
and he was suddenly lifted and rising up. He began
pulling at himself, stripping off his clothes.
Soon they were naked and embracing each other. Both
giving in to it, with nothing held back. Alive and
reveling in each other's body, speaking love's secret
language in soft moans and kisses.
Exquisite, and it seemed endless, and Boromir went
right on, with Aragorn loving him right up on top...
then loving around behind and inside him...
and then his mouth was slowly riding down the mountain
of him...
He felt as if he were falling.
Out of Reason's Lapse Part One
by lavingaround
oromir woke up this morning hard. His back was tight
and stiff. Muscles knotted and cramped. Sleeping
around the rocks at the base of the mountain was not
at all like sleeping in a bed he mused. He yawned and
stretched his arms over his head, scrunching his
shoulders and twisting from side to side. Maybe the
soreness in his back and shoulders would work itself
out with the day's long miles.
