moldava: (Boromir_tongue by Elvenfair)
[personal profile] moldava
Sunday morning someone - you know who you are - planted a Sean birthday bug into my head.
It just lay dormant there for a while then Boromir started whining that if Sean had a birthday coming he should have one too and he bugged me until I wrote this.

This is the outcome. A moody ficlet, no smut really.

"What is it that bothers you, Boromir? I've been watching you.. Something is troubling you, makes you unable to find peace with yourself tonight..."

The question is asked softly in a low whisper as Aragorn drops down on the grass to sit by Boromir's side, their shoulders brushing where they both lean against the trunk of an ancient tree in the woods of Lorien.

The night is quiet and bright and the silvery light makes it easy for Aragorn to see the dark furrows of distress on Boromir's handsome face. Both men have stripped down to their breeches and tunics and warmth radiates where their bodies touch.

Boromir's fingers curl tightly on themselves, as if at a loss when not having a weapon to grip, but he shakes his head as if to make little of the state of uneasiness Aragorn has perceived in him.

"'tis nothing really.. nothing that should bother you, I mean... it's just that today's my birth day and the thought of being one year older has set lots of other thoughts in motion.."

"They don't seem to be good thoughts, judging from the frown on your face.." Aragorn suggests, conscious that he's treading ground no less dangerous than the trails they followed down in Moria but unable to leave Boromir to his own dark thoughts.

"One year older.. and what accomplishments do I have to show for it?" Boromir laughs deprecatingly, shaking his head and shrugging, shoulder slowly rubbing against Aragorn's.

"A lot, I would say. What about the reclaiming of Osgiliath? How about your father choosing you to come carry his message to Rivendell and seat in Elrond's council? And I'm sure in Minas Tirith there are only words of praise about the courage and mettle of the High Warden of the White Tower.." Aragorn offers softly, fingers reaching out and curling over Boromir's clenched fist.

"Aye, there is that... but all of that is not for me.. what I mean is.. what have I accomplished for myself? All that I've done seems to be for others or for Gondor, not for myself. What do I have to show that I have accomplished as a man, as just Boromir the man? Nothing.. I have no life mate, no heirs. I have no one rejoicing for me when I succeed or worrying about me when I'm away and in peril.. I've no doubt the courtesans in Minas Tirith are saying that things are livelier when Boromir is around, but I also have no doubt that someone is warming their beds when I'm away and that at the end of the day it matters little to them who it is that is doing that.. My life is making no difference, no one really cares.. and somehow I feel that time is running out on me.."

Boromir's words are whispered, as if he feels the night is too quiet and peaceful to spoil it, but the whisper is a harsh one and there is a desperate note to it.

"You're wrong.." Aragorn's whisper is as soft, but carries much determination, something that shows also in the way his fingers are gripping Boromir's and squeezing them tightly. "I care.."

"You are a good man and I appreciate the effort," Boromir replies, gripping Aragorn's fingers back. "But you're no different from the rest of them. The one you care about is the Steward's son and heir, the warrior who will be fighting at your side.. You care about what I can do for you, just the way everyone does when it comes to me.."

There is a note of quiet resignation in Boromir's voice and he closes his eyes, as if suddenly tired.

"You have it wrong.. I care about you, Boromir, and not for any of the reasons you said.. but I know you will not take my word for it.." Aragorn shakes his head, dark hair falling down to veil his cheek and hide his eyes for a moment.

There is determination in them when he lifts his head again and turns to Boromir. His hands grip Boromir's wrists, the warm skin usually hidden under leather and steel vanbraces now bare. The pulsepoint beats steadily and Aragorn's thumbs are drawn to it, rubbing it in slow circles.

"In a way you're right.. There are things I want from you, but they have nothing to do with your prowess on the battlefield or with the House of the Stewards of Gondor. I simply want you. I want the man who laughs like a kid when hobbits tumble him to the ground. I want the man whose eyes sparkle like emeralds when he talks of his city or turn the soft green of the first leaves in spring when he talks of his brother.." Aragorn whispers, leaning closer to look into those eyes as they blink open in surprise.

"You said people want things of you, but what does Boromir want? What gift can I give him on his birth day?" he asks softly, pressing closer still, so close that they're breathing the same breath.

Boromir's eyes have gone wide as they study Aragorn's face, looking for hidden purposes and finding none. His fists have slowly unfurled under the slow caress of the ranger's thumbs and now his fingers grip Aragorn's like a lifeline.

"I don't want to be alone tonight of all nights.. dark thoughts come to me when I'm alone.." Boromir murmurs, the soft tone making the words almost a plea.

"You will not be alone, not tonight, nor on any other night, not anymore. I'm here, Boromir, I will hold you through the night and keep the dark thoughts away.." Aragorn promises quietly, pulling Boromir down with him to lie on the blanket spread on the thick grass.

They lie side by side, fingers touching. There is silence, but it is not uncomfortable. After a while Boromir turns and settles against Aragorn's side, his forehead resting against the ranger's shoulder.

"This feels pleasant. Makes me feel that whatever it is that I will have to face will not be so daunting because I won't be facing it alone.." Boromir murmurs quietly, lips warm through the fabric of Aragorn's tunic. "It is a good birth day gift you are giving me, Aragorn."

"You deserve no less, Boromir, and I want to give you many more gifts of caring. Now rest, we make our way out of Lorien tomorrow and will have to leave behind the haven we found here. There will be no dark dreams for you tonight, I'm watching over you and always will. If you let me."

"I will. You're my brother, my captain, my king..." Boromir murmurs, the words trailing off as sleep takes him.

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moldava: (Default)

February 2009


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