Love and Death

Part Two

 

Author:  Kinkyhobbit

Pairing:  Boromir/Legolas

Genre:  LOTR slash (movie-verse)

Rating:  NC-17

Warnings: Some violence.

Disclaimer:  Tolkien’s characters, I’ve only borrowed them to play with for a bit.

Summary:  The end. I don’t need to warn you, you know what’s going to happen.

 

 

They left Lothlorien surrounded by a feeling it would be their last journey together. The gloom they all felt was inescapable.

 

Their grief had drawn the hobbits together to the exclusion of everyone else, but the daylight brought them out again. Merry and Pippin had said little, but both went to Boromir upon waking and put their arms around him. When it was time to depart, they climbed into his boat with him.

 

Legolas travelled with Gimli who was unusually silent. They barely spoke, though at one point Gimli turned and simply looked at Legolas, and asked him how a wizard could possibly die. Legolas was stunned by the question and had no answer.

 

The current carried them swiftly but they rowed anyway, rowed to make as much speed as possible. When they finally stopped it was late afternoon and they had travelled a considerable distance. They should have been pleased, but the closer they got to Mordor the gloomier the mood became.

 

Boromir had been strange when they had come ashore. His face was pale and he was clearly nervous. Legolas had watched him briefly, making a note to speak to him later. They had much to talk about anyway, one night was not enough. They both wanted more, and Legolas felt an ache in his heart that told him they would never have it.

 

He didn’t see Frodo leave. Nor Boromir. Later he would spend a great deal of time chastising himself for not watching them both, for not seeing the trouble before it arrived.

 

***

When Frodo had walked off alone, he knew Boromir had followed. Even if Galadriel hadn’t warned him, his own suspicions had been aroused. Boromir’s mood now was radically different to when they had left Lothlorien. He was strange, pre-occupied and irritable, as if he was fighting some internal struggle. Frodo almost felt sorry for him before he remembered what such a struggle might mean. He had felt Boromir’s gaze for only a moment as they came ashore, and left almost instantly. He needed to get away from Boromir.

 

He was snapped sharply back to reality when, alone in the forest well away from their camp, Boromir suddenly appeared with a bundle of sticks in his arms.

 

“None of us should wander alone,” he said.

 

They exchanged words, Frodo wary despite Boromir’s easy manner. He was trying so hard to be concerned and caring, a marked contrast to the frustration and fear evident when they had first landed. His concern was false, Frodo knew, even before Boromir snapped and threw the bundle down in disgust.

 

“I ask only for the strength to defend my people!”

 

Frodo found himself taking a few steps back.

 

“Why do you recoil, I am no thief!”

 

“You are not yourself.”

 

A spark ignited in Boromir’s eyes, and Frodo knew he had made a mistake. He turned to run, too late. Boromir tackled him and was on top of him quickly, pinning him to the ground.

 

“Give it to me!” he screamed. “Give it to me!”

 

“No!” Frodo struggled to get to the Ring, frightened that he now reached for it so quickly. 

 

Boromir clutched at his hands and Frodo cried out, breaking free and swinging wildly, his fist catching Boromir across the chin. Boromir snarled in anger and grabbed his wrists, holding them down on either side, immobilising him.

 

Frodo froze in fear, the Ring clutched tight in his fist. He had never had such an encounter before, such a close, physical encounter with a man who was a danger to him. He was acutely aware of Boromir’s vice-like grip and the weight and size of the man’s body on top of him, between his legs, forcing them painfully apart and making him feel incredibly vulnerable. Boromir was breathing hard between clenched teeth, fighting to control himself. They stared at each other, Frodo’s eyes wide with terror, Boromir gritting his teeth and shaking with rage.

 

And then it dawned on Frodo that Boromir also presented another threat to him. He felt…a hardness pressed against him. Between his legs. He stared up at Boromir’s face, the man’s eyes dark with anger. He had heard about how men were in battle, how the fighting fuelled more than their bloodlust. He had never believed it until now.

 

Boromir saw this new fear in his face and smiled, slowly leaning closer until his hair brushed Frodo’s cheeks. His eyes were dark, his face somehow different.

 

“If you make me take it from you,” he breathed. “I will take you with it.”

 

Frodo realised what he meant and his eyes widened. “You are not Boromir,” he replied, shaking his head, his voice wavering with fear. “You are not him!”

 

He struggled vainly against Boromir’s grip, to no avail. Boromir laughed softly and leaned even closer. Frodo tensed, feeling Boromir’s warm breath on his skin.

 

“N-no…Boromir…I know it is not you, it’s the Ring…it has taken you!”

 

Boromir groaned and pushed painfully hard against him, licking his neck and breathing in his ear.

 

“I’ve warned you,” he whispered. “Don’t make me take it from you.”

 

“No!” Frodo yelled. “You are not Boromir! Let him go! Let him go now!”

 

Frodo lashed out, punching Boromir hard in the nose. He kept hitting and struggling until Boromir managed to grab his arms again, falling onto him, holding him tight and pinning him helplessly to the ground.

 

“Please, please don’t do this…” Frodo sobbed. “Please Boromir…Boromir …”

 

He felt Boromir tense and shudder, fingers digging in to his shoulders. He cried out and Boromir sat up. The pain in his eyes was unmistakable.

 

“Oh Frodo…”

 

Boromir looked exhausted and pale, his eyes no longer dark and frightening. He gently let go of Frodo’s shoulders, caressing his cheek before moving his hands away and leaning back, breathing hard.

 

“I’m…I’m sorry…” he whispered, a look of horror on his face. “I’m so sorry…”

 

He slumped to the ground. Frodo closed his eyes as tears spilled down his cheeks.

 

“Frodo…”

 

He felt Boromir’s hands on his body, trying to pull him closer.

 

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

 

This time Frodo came to his senses, and ran.

 

Boromir lay there and began to sob, ashamed and angry. He had nearly ruined everything.

 

He opened his eyes and cried out in shock.

 

Legolas was standing over him with an arrow pointed right at his face. His eyes blazed with rage, his mouth a grim line. Boromir gasped, trembling, holding up his hands vainly. As if he could stop an arrow.

 

“Le-Legolas…I…I didn’t take it, I tried but I stopped, I didn’t…please…put it down…”

 

“I saw what you were going to do,” growled Legolas menacingly, fighting to control his anger.

 

Boromir swallowed hard, terrified. “I…I couldn’t, I…Legolas, please…”

 

Boromir felt sick with fear as he noticed the elf’s hands. While Legolas’ face was dark and his breathing barely controlled, his hands…were perfectly still. The arrow drawn right back in the bow, pointed directly at Boromir’s face, did not move. It did not tremble or waver. It was totally, utterly still.

 

“Please…” Boromir crawled forward on his knees, turning his face away from the arrow, his trembling hands reaching out for Legolas’ boots. “I let him go…I let him go, Legolas…I’m sorry…”

 

Legolas glared at him, tears filling his eyes.

 

Boromir grasped Legolas’ legs, shaking with fear. He looked up.  “Legolas…please…”

 

Legolas met his pleading eyes as he lowered the arrow. For a brief moment it pointed again at Boromir’s face and he winced. Then Legolas’ hand began to tremble and he loosened the arrow, throwing it and the bow on the ground.

 

“Legolas…”

 

Legolas dropped to his knees, taking Boromir’s face in his hands, searching his eyes.

 

“I couldn’t do it,” whispered Boromir, crying. “I felt it take me and it felt so…wonderful, but…I couldn’t hurt him, I…I couldn’t hurt him.”

 

Legolas swallowed, his fingers caressing Boromir’s lips. Boromir closed his eyes and Legolas pulled him close. They fell to the ground, holding each other, a moment of solace in the storm.

 

Boromir kissed Legolas’s neck over and over, whimpering softly. Legolas thrust his hands into Boromir’s hair and kissed his lips, a passionate, desperate, frightened kiss. Boromir clung to him, returning the kiss briefly before Legolas gently but firmly pushed him away, looking into his eyes.

 

“I will go after him,” he said sternly. “You return to the shore.”

 

Boromir swallowed, and nodded. “I’m sorry Legolas.”

 

“I know,” replied Legolas, kissing him again.

 

Legolas stood and took off through the trees.

 

Boromir lay there for a moment, still breathing hard. The he stood, determinedly grasping his sword, and headed back to the shore.

 

***

Legolas was almost too late. Frodo was nowhere to be seen. He arrived to see Aragorn fighting desperately against an entire army of orcs and he began firing arrows mechanically, without thinking. It was as if his hands worked alone and he was just watching as arrow after arrow found its target.

 

Gimli had arrived when he did and they had both hurled themselves into the fray. Orc after orc fell lifeless at their feet, and still they were being pushed back, were barely coping under the onslaught.

 

 Then he heard it.

 

Boromir.

 

Aragorn reached him first. Legolas found himself caught up fighting yet more orcs, and when he finally hurtled madly down that last hill, he thought for a terrible moment that he was too late. Seconds later, he knew he was right.

 

He stood staring, at first not comprehending what he was seeing. Boromir was trembling, gasping, his face white. Aragorn knelt over him, holding his hands and talking to him. Legolas wanted to go near, to somehow help, but he was afraid. He didn’t know what to do, so he paced, confused and frightened. Lost.

 

He had been so angry with Boromir when he had seen him with Frodo. Elrond had once said men were weak, and Legolas in that instant had believed it. Now Boromir was dying, and he couldn’t take those thoughts back. He so desperately wanted to.

 

He couldn’t look away. He saw the last breath leave Boromir’s body. Saw his eyes staring blankly from his dead face. He couldn’t look away, no matter how hard he tried. His mind told him Boromir was dead, but he didn’t want to believe it. He just stood, staring, even as Aragorn picked Boromir up and carried him to the boats.

 

***

Legolas had insisted on helping prepare Boromir’s body. Aragorn had tried to tell him it was not his duty, but the look in Legolas’s eyes had told him the elf was not to be trifled with right now. Aragorn let it go.

 

They placed him in the boat together. Aragorn’s touch was reverential, as it should be when farewelling a fellow warrior, but Legolas was different. He gently placed Boromir’s hands, his fingers lingering on clothing and hair, arranging it, gazing at Boromir’s still face for a long time.

 

Aragorn squeezed Legolas' shoulder and stood and walked away.

 

Gimli was standing awkwardly close by, wanting to be near but not wanting to show his pain. He paced and grumbled instead.

 

Then Legolas turned and disappeared quietly into the forest. Other than his eyes, his face was a mask and he said nothing. Not until he was out of sight and could hide his face so no-one would see, did he collapse against a tree, shaking.

 

He had not seen many people he loved die. He knew men did, men lived their lives watching those around them die, and still they were not used to it. Still it hurt, like it hurt him now. He felt the bark dig in to his cheek as he pushed against it, biting back a cry.

 

He did not want to feel this. He didn’t need this now. Not now, not with so much at stake.

 

“Goodbye, Boromir,” he said softly.

 

He let go just a little. Enough to free some of the pain, to let it spill harmlessly into the soil. Then he wiped his face and stood, breathing deeply.

 

The rest he would save. He would keep it hidden away until it changed into something else, something darker. It would be a fire he would stoke inside. Eventually he would find a time and place to free it all. Then he would avenge Boromir’s death.

 

He took one last breath, looking around the forest, then returned to the shore.

 

***

Aragorn and Gimli exchanged glances, quickly looking away each time, lost in their own grief. They paced around the shoreline, trying to avoid each other. Time passed and it was too much not to say something.

 

“He has taken it hard,” said Gimli quietly.

 

Aragorn simply nodded. That seemed to cover it.

 

They pushed the boat into the water and watched it float down and disappear over the waterfall. Aragorn knew Legolas was near, he could sense him. He was watching Boromir’s last journey from the shelter of the trees.

 

Seconds later Legolas came running out of the forest. He was different now, the grief was gone and the warrior was back. He was eager to get moving. Their quest was far from over and he didn’t want anyone to have died for nothing.

 

Legolas was surprised at Aragorn’s suggestion that they follow the orcs instead of Frodo and Sam. At first he was hesitant, but he looked at Gimli and saw his own desire for revenge reflected in the dwarf’s eyes. Aside from that, Merry and Pippin needed their help far more right now than Frodo and Sam did.

 

They headed quickly back into the forest, Legolas’ thoughts filled with a waterfall, a boat, and its lonely occupant.

 

Kinkyhobbit 2002

 

 

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