Faramir Fiction Archive

Boromir gets bladdered (R)

Written by Fawsley

22 December 2006 | 1706 words

Title: Boromir gets bladdered
Author: fawsley
Seal of approval: brigantine1
Characters: Aragorn/Boromir, Arwen, Faramir
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Characters are ever and always property of the Professor.
Summary: Written for the LJ sons_of_gondor Hallowe’en trick or treat fic exchange.
Written for: ribby
Author’s Notes: 1) In the UK, ‘to get bladdered’ means to drink far far far too much. In Minas Tirith, Boromir finds that it can have another meaning.
2) What do you mean you didn’t realise there was a wood just outside the city? The Ents planted it when they cleaned up the Pelannor Fields after the great battle.
3) Queen Arwen has absolutely no problem with her dear husband doing what he does with miraculously!undead Boromir. In fact, as we shall see, she really rather encourages it….

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‘Beggin’ your pardon, Lord Boromir…’

The Captain General of the armies of the reunited kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor froze in his tracks, dumbfounded that his subterfuge had failed.

Cook, oblivious to his astonishment, continued to attack her pumpkin victim with a ferocity that would have done any one of Boromir’s swordsmen proud.

‘…but ‘as you got any idea what it is Lord Faramir wants with all them bladders?’

‘mblddrs?’

However hard he tried to swallow, the great mouthful of purloined cake refused to disappear, and as Cook peered expectantly up at him Boromir realised the main stumbling block to the success of his theft was the fact that he was no longer eight years old.

‘Been down the slaughter pens every day this week, he has. On the scrounge. In here as well t’see if we’ve got any. Dunno why. Won’t say. Always been deep, that one.’

Boromir wondered for a moment whether anyone could truly have deep thoughts about offal. Then, as Cook’s eager eye spotted the threat of an unattended pot making its presence especially felt, he grabbed another cake in each hand and made good his escape.

Cool evening air lifted his hair, brushed his skin, gently drying the sheen of sweat and banishing the red glow of exertion from his noble face. Boromir knelt naked upon the window seat, gazing idly from an opened casement across the dusky garden.

‘Aragorn….’

‘Come back to bed, my love.’

‘Aragorn, there’s an eye… A great blue eye. It’s looking at me…’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t think I really care. Come back to bed.’

‘It’s on the garden wall. Or in it. A blue eye. Looking out. Oh! There’s another one!’

‘Boromir, beloved, you’re seeing things. All the blood has drained from your head after what you just did to me, and so you’re seeing things. Come back to bed.’

‘Two great big blue eyes! Staring!’

‘Sounds like Legolas that hot day Gimli stripped off and danced naked in the fountains.’

‘Don’t remind me of that, please. But come and look. There are two blue eyes looking out of the garden wall.’

Aragorn bundled himself and the quilt off the bed, onto the floor and crawled his way over towards the window seat.

‘I find I have something far better to observe than two eyes that exist only in your mind. Two strong mounds that beg for my immediate attention. Your arse is truly a sacred object ever to be worshipped and adored.’

‘Honestly, there are two blue eyes looking… Oooo! What are you doing? Oh….. Yes, oh yes! Nnggghh….’

And as the king’s agile tongue set to work, Boromir began to think that indeed the mysterious eyes were all the work of his overheated imagination.

For a third staring eye had now appeared upon the stonework. And this one was orange.

‘I am concerned about the Citadel children’ Arwen announced to her husband and the Steward at breakfast.

‘Every year they stay up late for the Autumn festivities but become tired and fractious. They do not enjoy themselves, and nor do the adults for they are disturbed and upset by the children’s unhappiness. They need some entertainment of their own earlier in the day.’

‘You mean something to wear them out so they go to bed and don’t bother us’ the King clarified.

‘All taken care of!’ exclaimed Faramir. ‘Your worries were in my mind also, and thus I have devised an afternoon game that will keep them happy and occupied, and also make them ready for bed at a suitable hour.’

Arwen clapped her hands in glee.

‘Faramir, I can always rely upon you to see to the heart of every difficult situation and find the right solution to any problem. Do tell me more of your plan!’

‘Forgive me Arwen, but I would prefer to keep the plan a secret. Should I whisper it even between the three of us here, no doubt it would leak out and the children would know beforehand.’

At this point four eyes turned accusingly towards the King.

‘Me?! Why are you looking at me? You can trust me!’

‘Trust you to make a formal proclamation and send riders to Rohan to spread the word, you mean’ huffed Arwen. ‘Dearest Faramir, I trust you implicitly. Your secret is safe me with. Although I don’t actually know what it is…’

‘All will be well. As long as Boromir doesn’t get in the way. He’s my greatest concern.’

‘Then he must be kept out of the way. Elessar, make sure that you distract Boromir for the afternoon.’

‘I can’t simply order him not to do whatever it is he’s not allowed to do…’

‘Oh, just demand his presence and do something filthy with him. You’re good at that.’

At which point the King and Queen dissolved into fits of simpering giggles. Faramir rolled his eyes and clamped two rounds of hot buttered toast to his ears.

‘Not listening! Not listening!’

Boromir was worried.

Perhaps Aragorn was right. Perhaps he was beginning to see things. Their lovemaking could be extreme at times… Maybe he was wearing himself out. Not just his body, but his mind. He was getting on in years – the failed expedition to the kitchens had proved that.

Aragorn had ordered his attendance in the King’s private chamber that afternoon, which could mean only one thing. Sex. And lots of it.

He had to escape! Had to get away before Aragorn’s demands further encroached upon his sanity.

A heavy head rested itself upon his knee and a gentle querying moan suggested that a nice long walk might be a good idea.

‘Cal, old friend, you are right as always. Let’s be off to the woods and see if we can raise any pheasants before the party begins. He won’t know where we’ve gone and he certainly won’t think of looking for us there.’

Man and hound slipped quietly away, safe in the knowledge that no harm could possibly befall them in the sweet glades beyond the city wall.

Faramir stood before the troop of eager children at the far edge of the woods.

‘Now. Green hoods. You have bladders filled with blue paint. Browns hoods yours are orange. Handle them carefully. They are strong but will split if you are too rough with them. I’ve tested them against the garden wall. You know the rules – even if you are marked with your own paint you will be deemed dead. You all have your catapults, yes?’

Green hoods and brown nodded together.

‘I shall be the only adult in the woods today and I challenge you to test my ranger skills! Should any of you manage to spot me and burst your paint bladder upon me, you shall gain an extra fifty points. Though do not expect to succeed – the Rangers of Ithilien are not known as the Invisible Shadows for little reason!’

Awed that so great a battle-leader had condescended to play with them that afternoon, the children nodded again.

‘So, scatter now into the woods. When I whistle, the game has begun. May the best team win!’

Thirty little figures, shivering with excitement, melted into the undergrowth.

Aragorn yelped in surprise and consternation when he saw the blue and orange monster drip slowly across the courtyard. Then, recognising what it was, he doubled over in fits of gasping laughter.

‘And what exactly happened to you?’

‘Help…. Help me Aragorn…. Children…. Hundreds and hundreds of children. In the woods. They attacked me! All I did was whistle for Cal and suddenly they were upon me. Chased me! Out of the woods! Hunted me down! Chasing, chasing, screaming and yelling, all the way back here. They painted me….’

Boromir stood bedraggled and forlorn in an ever-widening pool of colour.

‘Hmmm… I think this must be something to do with your brother’s afternoon entertainment, whatever it was. You are not stepping inside like that! Into the fountain with you!’

‘Not naked! Not like Gimli!’

‘Of course not. Your clothes need a wash as much as you do. Just get in there and don’t come out until I tell you to.’

Luckily, the inhabitants of the Citadel were far too concerned with preparations for the evening’s festivities to notice the Captain General being scrubbed down by the King in a fountain that was swiftly turning a murky green colour.

When Boromir finally emerged, sleek and smooth, Aragorn could not help but find himself more than a little aroused at the sight.

‘I’m f-f-f-f-freeezing!’ complained his warrior.

‘What you need is to get out of those wet things and into a nice warm bed.’

‘Bed, oh yes please! Bed! Warm bed!’

Boromir was too cold and distressed to see where the King’s mind was going.

‘Well’ Aragorn thought to himself, ‘She did insist that I do something filthy with him. And I always obey my dear wife.’

A sly grin playing across his face, Aragorn took Boromir by the arm and guided him into the King’s House.

Faramir’s satisfaction at having successfully evaded all thirty children dissolved into confused annoyance when he realised that not only was he the lone adult in the woods that afternoon, he was the only person there at all.

Emerging from the trees he was greeted by the faithful Cal, still waiting patiently for his master to return.

‘Where on earth’ he enquired of the hound ‘did everybody go?’

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