The Passing
Author - Nessa
The Company sailed through the waters of Silverlode, its currents taking them from the land of Lothlorien out into the body of the Great River. For many miles they traveled together southward, ever growing closer to their destination. Yet, their hearts were divided,
for each of the company desired to take different routes in their Quest to destroy the Ring of Power. Should they abandon their boats, taking the western roads to Minas Tirith? Or do they bear their boats to Rauros, only to take to water again, heading to Amon Hen, where there they would seek each other's advice of the right path to take?
Many days passed and slowly their minds became troubled and hearts heavy at the thought of the unseen peril that lay ahead. Aragorn and Legolas frequently sought each other's council, the quarrel they had at Lothlorien forgotten at such pressing times. They spoke together in whispers, their expression solemn as they contemplated the possible dangers that lies ahead. Already they had been ambushed by Orcs as they navigated through the River and they had barely escaped, thanks to the gray cloaks of Lothlorien that they wore, reaching the relative safety of the river bank opposite to where the Orcs patrolled in the Eastern Shores.
"Whither shall our course take us now, Aragorn?" Legolas was saying, as they were once again resting along the river bank, his brows creased in thought. "The time must come for us to decide. We must not linger. Do we go with Boromir to Minas Tirith? Or do we turn east towards Mordor?" Boromir lifted his eyes towards Legolas from where he was seated; his eyes were bright and eager at the mention
of his homeland.
The Company had ceased their whisperings, their attention narrowed to a point upon the two tall figures that stood before them, tensed and troubled. Frodo looked into the Ranger's face, tired and withdrawn at the dilemma that he had to face. Their eyes met and their gaze held. Aragorn was silent for a moment before speaking.
"I cannot choose the road for the Ring Bearer to take," he said,
finally. "Let us rest for a moment before we come to any consensus
for we are all weary." Boromir muttered to himself in disgust and
left the Company to attend to his own thoughts. Aragorn's eyes
followed him thoughtfully as the figure before them struggled up the
slope that led away from the river bank and disappeared from view
amongst the trees and huge lime boulders that littered the forest
floor.
"He only wishes to protect his people. War is upon Gondor and he
must answer his people's call," Legolas said, quietly, his eyes
seizing the Ranger's. Aragorn ran his hand wearily over his face,
his eyes troubled as they chance to look upon Legolas' once more.
"I know, Legolas, and it is right that he should seek to fulfill his
responsibilities. But we are given the task of following Frodo, to
take him to Mordor where the Ring is to be destroyed. It is a hard
road to take and the responsibility that is placed upon us is
greater than any wars put together." Here, he stepped forwards
towards Legolas and laid his hand upon his shoulder, feeling the
strength and the tension in his body. "We must not forsake him now.
Not when we are so close to the last stage of our Quest."
Legolas looked away, his eyes downcast as he struggled with his own
conflicting thoughts. "Then perhaps it is time we go our separate
ways. Go with Frodo if you must and I shall hither to Minas Tirith
with Boromir. The rest will choose their path as they see fit."
There was a sharp intake of breath from the rest of the Company.
"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens," said
Gimli, his voice harsh but in his eyes there was sorrow. The Hobbits
looked on upon their exchange with abated breath and they each come
terms with what they had long ago suspected – and that is the
Fellowship is slowly but surely falling apart.
"Yet upon us no oath or bond is laid to go further then we will,"
the Elf argued, his head held up and eyes holding on to the many
eyes that were looking at him. There was silence before Frodo speak
up, his face shadowed with worry.
"I know that haste is needed but yet I cannot choose. The burden is
heavy. Perhaps we should all be left alone and think upon our next
course of action." And that was exactly what the Company agreed to do.
Aragorn walked along the banks, deep in thought while Gimli stomped
and muttered his way towards the thick undergrowth of the forest.
The Hobbits sought each other's council, sitting in a circle, while
Frodo set apart from his friends, his eyes lowered, his brows
furrowed with the burden he carried. Legolas wandered up the slope
and entered the forest to seek solace in its greenery, his heart
troubling him more and more.
It was as if a shadow had passed over his mind, clouding what was
left of his bright and happy memories. It was a disturbing
sensation, chilling him to the very bone for he felt the danger that
seemed so distant and yet felt so near and a ball of ice seemed to
settle at the pit of his stomach. So deep was he in his thought that
when he passed by a large limestone statue, he let out a startled
cry when two arms suddenly reached out around his waist and dragged
him out of plain sight behind the sculpture, roughly bringing him
down to the ground.
Legolas was knocked and pinned to the forest floor, winded and
unable to free himself. A hard, unyielding mouth descended upon his
and started to kiss his lips. The mouth clamped over his in hunger,
seeking to possess and devour him whole. Legolas clutched at the
body above his, a moan forming at his throat as it began to grind
against his member, arousing his passions with terrifying speed. He
struggled to breathe as those lips began their sensuous trail down
from his lips to the long, white column of his neck, gasping when
the bearded chin scraped against his soft flesh.
"Boromir, nay, not here. The others… they will hear us. They will
know," he groaned, but his body belied his words as his hips began
bucking frantically as a large, calloused hand reached between them
to cup his hardening arousal, stroking him towards oblivion.
"Let them," was the curt reply as he continued his ruthless assault,
taking Legolas to the edge of his endurance with his hands and lips.
Boromir was calculating in his moves; touching, kissing and licking
Legolas in all the right places – movements that were designed to
bring one to the brink of madness in their desires but not enough to
bring about the completion that they sought desperately to have and
Legolas writhed under the assault, helpless to resist.
Boromir rapidly removed Legolas' tunic, and his firm tongue slid
across the turgid pink nipples that were bared to his hungry gaze.
Legolas' vocal appreciation sounded through the air before he
quickly clamped his jaw shut, on his face a pained expression of
pure pleasure. His back arched and his hips were jerking so hard in
his attempt to gain the much needed friction at his groin that he
threatened to throw off his lover who was stretched out atop him.
His leggings were next to be taken off, and his member sprang free
of its constriction, standing proud and eager as Boromir slid down
the quivering length of his body and bent his head towards Legolas'
source of desire to lavish it with his attention. A cry threatened
to fall out of Legolas' lips but he held it back, biting his lips so
hard that he could just barely taste a hint of blood that leaked out
from the small wound he incurred onto himself.
"Legolas?" came a voice that was certainly unwelcomed at this point
of time. It was Aragorn – and he sounded as if he were close by.
Certainly close enough to hear every moan that escaped from Legolas'
lips should he make any sound. He stiffened in apprehension but
Boromir was not to be distracted as he continued to squeeze and
stroke the hard arousal with his tongue and mouth. Legolas tried to
stop him but Boromir retaliated by sucking harder onto his root. The
Elf's eyes fluttered back into his head… `Leave me be, Aragorn,' he
thought to himself, desperately, as another wave of pleasure, almost
unbearable in nature, swept across his shaft as Boromir lapped
hungrily at the tip of the Elf's organ that was oozing with his
seed.
"Legolas?" the voice persisted and it sounded uncomfortably nearer
than before. Suddenly the statue that shielded the lovers from the
gaze of their comrade seemed to be too small and the Elf panicked.
He tried to wriggle away from Boromir but the Man was heavy. With a
soft sound of displeasure, Boromir allowed the pulsating organ to
slip out of his mouth, but he was not done. He moved up the Elf's
body, pressing his lips onto one of those delicate ears and began to
trace it with his tongue. Legolas gave a strangled moan, clinging to
Boromir as if to keep from losing himself in the tempest that the
Man evoked upon his senses.
"Answer him, or he will see me driving myself into you, your face
registering your delight at every stroke of my member that
penetrates your sweet body," he whispered, his voice hoarse with
need as he struggled to undo his breeches…
**********
"Legolas!" Aragorn called out, worry lining his face. He could have
sworn he had heard the Elf cry out and he wondered if he was hurt.
His eyes darted around, as he walked rapidly towards where he
thought Legolas' voice came from. In his heart, he felt the
stirrings of unease. And then he heard it again, a gasp followed by
a groan, coupled with frantic rustling of the leaves on the forest
floor. It sounded as if the Elf was trashing about amongst the
fallen leaves.
"Legolas, can you hear me? Speak to me!" he cried out, picking his
way as quickly as he could over the forest ground so as not to trip
over the thick roots of the trees protruded from the ground. There
was that stubborn silence again before a voice choked out.
"Leave me be, Aragorn," it said, its voice had a strained quality
and a hint of a tremor beneath it. There were the sounds of heavy
breathings as he approached a fallen limestone statue. For some
reason, he hesitated to look behind it.
"Are you hurt? I heard you cry out," he said, still looking
carefully at the statue and listening to the odd noises and
whisperings that emitted from behind it. He took another step closer
as the rustlings paused for a moment and then resumed. He took
another step.
"Nay! I am not hurt! Just leave! Please! Oh God!" his voice rang
out, jarring and strident, sounding as if he was on the brink of
tears. The sounds that followed then sounded muffled, as if he was
clamping his hand over his mouth to prevent Aragorn from hearing his
cries of distress. Aragorn started to walk away but faltered as he
heard the Elf drew in a shuddering breath and emitted soft cries. He
had never seen or rather heard the Elf so distraught and he wondered
at the cause. He stood still for a moment and still the cries did
not stop, if anything, it became more desperate…
***********
Legolas' body was on fire, his every limb twisting and his hands
grabbing hold of Boromir's head as its tongue worked its magic upon
his shaft. He wanted to find his release, to cry out in rapture at
the ecstasy that he knew only Boromir could bring. But the Ranger
still stood just on the other side of the statue, and the Elf could
have screamed in frustration.
"I would leave, if you but tell me what is wrong, Legolas!" Aragorn
said, his voice sounding worried and annoyed at the same time.
Legolas opened his mouth to answer but Boromir captured his lips in
a searing kiss. Spreading the Elf's long, muscular legs, he settled
between them and slowly slid his engorged member into Legolas'
opening. The Elf trembled at the sensation as Boromir began pressing
in and out, slowly and thoroughly stimulating the sensitive spot
deep inside his body. His eyes fluttered back into his head as his
hands grabbed onto the shoulders of the heaving body above him.
"If you do not answer me, I am going to come to you to find out
exactly what is it that is wrong with you," he warned, his footfalls
getting alarmingly nearer every time. "Aragorn…Saes… I… oh God… I
just… need to be alone," he stammered out, his breathing ragged and
chest heaving, as he reach closer and closer to the peak of his
fulfillment. His eyes clenched shut as Boromir's knowing hands
stroked the source of his desire in time to the movements of their
hips, his mouth opened in a silent cry of wonder as they strained to
reach for their completion.
There was another agonizing silence before he heard Aragorn slowly
move away. And then immediately, Legolas' body seemed to burst into
a thousand stars as he reached his release, his slender body
shuddering with the force of it. He cried out into Boromir's hot
mouth, tongues meeting wildly, sucking and teeth biting at each
other's lips in a raw and animalistic hunger. With another lusty
cry, Boromir joined his lover in achieving the summit of their
pleasures and they lay against each other, spent.
Legolas lay in a daze as Boromir pressed hot kisses on his face,
lips, neck and shoulders. It was as if he could never get enough of
his Elf. There was something so hungry and so sad about the way
Boromir touched him that it nearly brought tears to Legolas' eyes.
Their eyes met and held. Boromir reached out to run his hand through
the silky tresses, slowly and gently removing the leaves that were
entwined in his hair.
"You could have waited for nightfall before taking me," Legolas said
wryly, on his lips a small smile. Boromir's heart constricted at the
honest smile as his hands continue to caresses the Elf's face
lovingly but he remained silent, eyes gazing intently into his
lover's.
"I wanted you to see me in daylight so that you will never forget
how I look, be it night or day," he murmured and Legolas wondered at
the statement. But time had slipped by quickly and they heard in the
distance, the raised voices of the Hobbits. Legolas quickly put on
his clothing while Boromir followed suit, but at a slower pace, his
eyes downcast and his movements jerky. The Elf regarded his lover
with watchful eyes, registering Boromir's jaw clenching and
unclenching as if he were deep in a thought that he was reluctant to
entertain.
"I will go to them first. It's best that they do not know we were
together," Legolas said, as he stood up cautiously. He started to
move towards their camp when Boromir grabbed his hand. He started
and stared into the green eyes of his Beloved. Once again that same
shadow seemed to flit around in his mind and the chill of unease
settled at the base of his spine.
Boromir saw the love and concern in the Elf's expressive eyes but
still said nothing as he tenderly pressed his lips against Legolas'
eyes and gently turned him around. "Go," he whispered and turned his
back towards the Elf as he continued to dress. With a last long look
at Boromir, Legolas walked quickly to where the rest of the Company
stood, well aware that his Beloved watched him as he went…
Aragorn was the first to notice the Elf, and on his face he wore a
mask of calm but his heart was raging with an emotion that he would
not give name to. Images flashed in his mind, making a mockery of
what he had seen and heard back then, confirming what he had already
known in Lothlorien; and that was, Boromir and Legolas were lovers
in all sense of the word. But knowing it did not lesson the agony
when he saw the Elf pinned under the weight of Boromir's, his
slender body undulating and trembling with desire as Boromir speared
him with his instrument. He found that he could not look at the Elf
in the eyes anymore.
"Have we come to a decision then?" the Elf asked, coming next to
him. The Ranger could smell the scent of Boromir upon his fair skin
and he looked away, shaking his head in answer. "We cannot come to a
decision without the Ring Bearer. He had already requested for an
hour more to make up his mind over the matter," Aragorn said, his
calm voice a contradiction to what he felt.
Minutes passed in silence, and then the hour came and went and still
there was no sign of the Frodo. Aragorn shifted uncomfortably, his
fears increasing with each passing minute. Legolas seemed restless
too, his keen eyes darting towards the forest not far behind them,
as if looking for signs of Frodo… or Boromir…
"Boromir," Aragorn whispered and suddenly he understood why he was
so worried. Frodo was gone and Boromir did not return although he
was last seen with Legolas. The Elf's head snapped towards Aragorn,
his face registering the misgivings that the Ranger himself carried
in his mind. And then the Company sprang to their feet in horror at
the thought of what could have happen in the last hour. Where had
Frodo gone? Was he killed? And worse still, did Boromir kill him and
take the ring for his own?
Immediately a search party was sent out, the Hobbits going with
Gimli and Legolas followed Aragorn as they sprinted through the
forest. They searched behind every tree and every stone and they
still could find neither the Ring Bearer nor Boromir of Gondor. Fear
struck a chord deep in their hearts and although their lungs burned
with fatigue, they did not stop running. Wildly they called out
their friends' name, all hoping that they would be in time to stop
the inevitable, should Boromir be alone with Frodo.
Aragorn pressed on, his sword bouncing upon his hips and Legolas,
with his Elvish knives, bow and arrows forgotten in his haste. On
and on they seemed to run without any signs of their companions
until finally, they heard a loud squawk and saw Frodo tumbling down
from his perch on top of a statue. Legolas rushed towards the Hobbit
to give aid but Frodo yelled in fright and shrank from his touch, on
his face were bruises that were fresh and large. Legolas stopped in
his tracks, his eyes wide with dismay as Frodo wept into his hands.
Aragorn moved forward, his palms held out as if to calm the
frightened Hobbit.
"Frodo, do not fear us. We are only your friends, Legolas and
Aragorn," he said soothingly but did not touch the trembling body
for fear of him running away like a frightened rabbit. Frodo looked
up, his swollen lips quivering. "The Ring. It had taken Boromir," he
choked out.
"Did he take it? Where is it?" demanded Aragorn, his voice harsh
with emotions that he could not identify; a terrible mixture of
sadness, anger and regret. But Frodo cringed from Aragorn and
scampered away on all fours in a pitiful manner. It breaks Aragorn's
heart to see the little one so wretched.
"Frodo! Please, we do not seek to harm you. We swore to protect
you," Aragorn said, moving cautiously towards the small figure,
huddled on the floor as he bore the burden of the world upon his
little neck. "But can you protect me from yourself?" Frodo cried
out, reaching desperately for the Ring that hung on a chain and
thrusting it towards them. "Would you destroy it if it were given to
you?"
Aragorn approached Frodo, an inscrutable expression in his eyes. The
ring seemed to call out to him and yet, he closed the Hobbit's
fingers over the hateful treasure and looked deep into those large
Hobbit eyes. "I would have gone with you into the very fires of
Mordor," he said, his voice clear but they are not without emotion
for he knew that the fate of the Ring no longer lay in the hands of
the Fellowship, but in the hands of this one little Half-ling,
doomed to his fate. The Hobbit and Man stared into each others eyes,
and when Frodo ran off into the forest once more, Aragorn and
Legolas did not follow.
"Alas, what will become of the Fellowship now?" said the Elf,
distressed, as his eyes followed the small figure, running through
the forests. "I had thought that whatever road we take will be to
our benefit, not to our ruin." Aragorn's answer was cut short when
Gimli burst out of a bush before them, blundering into their arms.
"Where are the little ones?" said Legolas, his voice sharp with
worry. Gimli shook his head urgently, his breathing harsh. "They ran
off! Gone! Calling out for Master Frodo they did! And Sam took off
in another direction!" he panted, his eyes wild. And then they all
heard it, the deep-throated call of a great horn that blew, the
blast of it reverberating off every tree and every stone, rising in
a mighty shout against the roaring of the falls nearby.
"The Horn of Gondor," cried Legolas, his breath catching in his
throat. "Boromir," whispered Aragorn, his eyes wide with horror. "He
is in need! We must hasten to his side!" But Legolas had already sprinted like a deer towards the call of his Beloved.
Legolas dashed onwards, ignoring the loud beating of his heart,
ignoring the calls of his friends to stay together and ignoring the
arms of trees that slashed his cheeks open as he brushed past them.
All that matters was that Boromir needed him and nothing will stand
in his way. "Boromir!" he screamed, his voice cutting through the
closed air of the forest like a knife. Again and again he called out
Boromir's name, desperate to locate his love as he followed the
sound of the blowing horn that was going alarmingly fainter, as if
Boromir was growing wearier with each passing moment. And then all
of a sudden it ceased and Legolas' heart nearly stopped in his
breast.
Putting on a last burst of speed, he dashed on over the slope of a
hill and the sight that greeted him below filled him with horror…
there were multitudes of Orcs, surrounding a fallen figure, leering
at him menacingly. Boromir had fallen to his knees, his body pierced with many black feathered arrows. He was barely alive.
"Nooo!" Legolas screamed, in his eyes a wild fire of rage and hate
as he brandished his white knives, slicing his way through the sea
of foul Orcs, one by one felling them to the floor. But they stood
in his way, some laughing as they strived to keep him away from
Boromir and some jeering as they let arrows fly towards his
direction. But no one could stop him from reaching Boromir as his
knives flashed out like blots of lightning, slashing their loathsome
throats. And then he made a mistake of looking into Boromir's eyes.
There was such grief in them, and such painful regret. His swollen
lips were parted as if he wanted to speak words that Legolas could
not hear. He was so close to Boromir now, so close that if he but
took a few more steps, he would be able to reach out and touch him.
But the consequence of being careless made him pay dearly. Legolas
let out a cry of pain as an arrow pierced through his left shoulder,
the force of the shot pinning him to a tree, effectively
immobilizing him. A trembling hand reached up to remove the imbedded
arrow but the pain was excruciating as every movement served only to
tear a larger hole into his shoulder. But it was nothing compared to
the pain that the Orcs had in store for him.
"Nay!" he cried out desperately, as an Orc, the largest of the band,
took out his sword and traced the outline of Boromir's face and neck
with its tip, drawing blood as the sharp point grazed the soft
flesh. The Man looked up towards his executioner, completely at his
mercy and yet his eyes held no fear, just that same melancholic
expression that Legolas had seen before. Again and again the Elf
screamed out, as the enemy's sword cruelly carved lines onto his
love's flesh, his struggling causing the arrow to increase the hurt
in his flesh, and blood gushed warmly from his wound. Boromir just
stayed on his knees, accepting the torture upon his body. And when
the Orc finally positioned his weapon at Boromir's throat, it turned
to Legolas, its hideous face splitting in a mocking smile. Just when
he thought that all was lost, he heard a cry. "Elendil! Elendil!"
the voice rang out. Aragorn had come.
With renewed strength, Legolas lifted his hand again and broke off
the feathered end of the arrow. Gritting his teeth against the
burning pain, he dragged himself away from the arrow that impaled
him, its stem sliding cleanly out through his body, the tip still
embedded into the trunk of the stubbly tree as he staggered towards
Boromir. Aragorn and Gimli made short work of those that were
foolish enough to remain behind but there was only one who Legolas
had his eye on. The Orc chieftain. Grabbing his long knives, a
fierce battle ensued between the Orc and the Elf. Both were kin, no
matter how distant, and their moves matched each other perfectly.
But Legolas had become a fighting machine. He ignored the burning in
his shoulder as with a great cry, he thrusts his knife into the
belly of his enemy and unseamed it from its navel to its chin. It
fell to the ground, dead, entrails spilling onto the forest ground.
The pain in his shoulder burned still and the Elf was driven to his
knees due to blood loss. But still he crawled painfully towards his
Beloved, who was now lying on his back. He was not moving. "Beloved.
Beloved," Legolas called out, "I am here. Your Beloved is here." He
dragged himself towards Boromir, his blood leaving a trail along the
floor as finally he reached Boromir's side. Legolas sat up and
propped his love onto his lap, stroking his face and hair with his
good hand. Boromir's face was barely recognizable under the bruises,
cuts and blood that oozed out from the wound inflicted by the Orc's
sword. His lips were still moving, as if trying to form words he has
little strength to say.
"They took the little ones," he choked out, gurgling in his own
blood. Tears trickled down his face, leaving a clean trail down his
dirty cheeks. "I tried to take the Ring from Frodo. I have failed
you all." His eyes fluttered in his head, his breathing shallow and
ragged. Legolas wept openly, his head pressed against Boromir's.
"Nay. Frodo still lives. You spared his life and you protected the
others with yours. All is not lost," Legolas whispered, cradling
Boromir in his arms. Boromir's lips moved again as he strived to
maintain eye contact with Legolas and it was clear that he was
fading fast. "I did not tell you. I lo-…," But it was too late. A
shudder passed through the large frame and then he was still, his
eyes locked unseeingly into the face of one he had not the chance to
reveal his love to.
Legolas buried his face into Boromir's shoulder, crying and calling
his name. "Beloved," he said repeatedly, the name a prayer upon his
lips and he did not notice Aragorn and Gimli approaching him, and in
their eyes were tears of sorrow. Aragorn laid a hand upon the
heaving shoulder, racked with anguish. Gimli was quiet, lost in his
own grief. And as the night falls swiftly over the forest, basking
the trees in its shadows, the darkness was almost kind as it seemed
to lament the passing of Boromir, Son of Gondor.
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