Faramir Fiction Archive

Warriors of Gondor (NC-17)

Written by Hel

14 May 2012 | 182144 words | Work in Progress

Part 29: THE KING’S PROPERTY

He woke in a strange bed, with a smooth warm body in his arms. Sleeping alone had been the second hardest thing about the long months on the road. He remembered going to bed with Legolas, and knew it to be him in his arms.

His morning erection rubbed against the elf’s back, and felt so good. Still half asleep, he moved down so that he could lick and tongue the elf’s ass to readiness. Legolas had far less body hair than he was used to, and smelled and tasted very different from humans. His lithe form, the way he wiggled beneath Boromir’s mouth, the soft gasps, all reminded him of Faramir. This incited his passion, for he missed his brother more than anything.

He slowly entered the elf, with short pushes and withdrawals. When he was completely within, he paused to kiss the back of the prince’s neck. Then he began long, slow thrusts, pulling almost all the way out, than pushing all the way in. Soon Legolas started squirming and groaning, trying to make him move faster. Boromir pinned the elf’s hips down with his hands, and continued with his long, slow, hard thrusts. His mind was filled with the smell, feel, and sound of Legolas beneath him, and peppered with thoughts of his brother. He was thoroughly enjoying the wiggling male, keeping his pace steady. The gasps became cries, which turned into begging, and then almost screams as Boromir stroked inside his ass.

Finally, he pumped harder, just twice, and the elf screamed his release. The man continued the long, slow thrusts until the elf started wiggling and moaning again. Pausing, he rose to his knees and sat back on his heels, bringing Legolas with him. One hand went to the elf’s cock and the other stroked his body. He ravished the elf’s neck and face with his mouth, soon bringing him to the brink of orgasm again. Boromir kept him there by tightening his hand or slowing his attentions until Legolas was again begging and screaming. Then, he allowed the elf’s release, aiming his cock so that the cum sprayed the front of his body.

Turning Legolas as he let him collapse onto his back, Boromir licked much of the cum off his chest. Then he gave the elf a deep, almost endless kiss that had him whimpering. Taking Legolas’s knees in his hands, Boromir pushed them back so that they were against his sides. He watched Legolas’s eyes widen, and his breath quicken, as he entered him again.

This time, his strokes were fast and hard, slamming into the elf and making the bed groan. Watching his own rehardening cock with disbelief, Legolas was at the mercy of the man pounding into him. Sweat dripped from Boromir’s brow, as he slammed harder, faster, and deeper. The elf grabbed his own cock and pulled as he started cumming for the third time. Boromir finally climaxed, long and hard, crying out as he did.

He collapsed on the bed next to Legolas, breathing heavily. “Good morning,” he said, brushing a lock of hair from the elf’s face.

“Do you always wake like that?” Legolas asked, still almost breathless.

Boromir laughed. “Only when I can,” he answered. Then a shadow fell across his face. “There has not been much time for any pleasure of late. My brother, Faramir, and I have spent nearly every day in the saddle, fighting our enemies, and protecting our people.” He sat up with a sigh and moved to the edge of the bed. “I need a bath and clothes. Some food would be most welcome. I feel like I haven’t eaten in days.”

The elf laughed, “Well, you did sleep a whole day and a night. There is a bathing room through that door,” he pointed the way. “Your things are in that trunk,” he added, then paused as he saw Boromir’s eyes widen at the life-size paintings on the wall.

“That almost looks like you,” Boromir commented. There was a front and back view of a naked elf, both in suggestive poses. In the front view, his hands where behind his head, displaying his well-developed chest, which had rings in both nipples and a chain running between them. In the other picture, he was sitting backward in a chair and looking invitingly over his shoulder. His back was almost covered by a tattoo of a double dragon topped by elvish script. “That is truly amazing,” Boromir said, feeling himself becoming aroused at the sight.

“That,” Legolas said with a devilish grin. “Is my father, Thranduil, King of the Greenwood.”

“Does he know you have these?” Boromir asked incredulously.

“He’d skin me alive,” the elf grinned. “He commissioned the portraits, and I paid the artist a considerable amount to make these copies. I just couldn’t help myself after seeing the originals. He is even sexier in person.”

“I couldn’t imagine thinking of my father as sexy,” Boromir said, still unable to tear his eyes away.

“Me either,” Legolas agreed.

“What?” Boromir asked, turning to look at the elf.

Blushing, Legolas realized his slip too late to take it back. “We didn’t really hit it off too well,” he added lamely.

“You know my father?” Boromir questioned.

“It was a long time ago. I’m sure he doesn’t even remember me,” he said quickly.

“I’m quite sure my father wouldn’t have forgotten you,” Boromir said with a smile. “He probably wouldn’t have cared much for you either. He is a bit on the stern side.”

“A bit,” Legolas laughed. “My father tends to be a bit on the prejudiced side. He barely tolerates men, but can’t abide dwarves or hobbits.”

“I’m going to take a bath,” Boromir said heading for the door. He had better things to do with his time then discuss his own father, even if it looked like Legolas’s father might be interesting.

“I will send for some food and join you,” Legolas said, taking a robe and leaving the room. Mirrors lined the walls and Boromir looked at his nude body with a Grímace. He’d lost a lot of weight on his journey, and muscle tone as well. He would have to do some serious working out and eating as well. There was a pool fed by a small waterfall; it was warm, almost hot. He stood under the pounding water, letting it soak him. Strong arms embraced him for a moment, then threw him into deeper water. They wrestled for a while, before washing each other playfully.

The sight of Boromir relaxed, floating on his back, holding to the edge of the pool, was too much of a temptation for the elf. He slid between the man’s legs and began working his cock into his ass. As he pumped in and out of the tight hole, he was amazed again at the size of Boromir’s penis. Every time he thrust into the man, it jerked sharply and stuck out of the water like a mast. Legolas was enthralled, watching while Boromir floated, eyes closed and groaning his approval. Aragorn stopped in the doorway and watched the two. Water sloshed out of the pool as Legolas sped up, and they both started crying out as they neared orgasm. Boromir’s cock was only about two inches longer than Aragorn’s, but was easily twice as thick. He was becoming increasingly turned on as he watched them. Then the two in the pool began to cum noisily. The semen from Boromir’s cock shot in a large arc and splashed at Aragorn’s feet, splattering his shoes and the hem of his robe.

“Not bad for an elf,” Boromir remarked.

“Hah!” Legolas cried and pushed him beneath the water.

The man came sputtering and laughing to his feet. “I’ll get you for that later, but I need to eat now.”

“I brought the food,” said Aragorn from the doorway.

Legolas was pleased to see Aragorn, but Boromir appeared almost angry.

They swiftly climbed out of the pool and went to find clothes. A trunk revealed garments Elrond’s people had provided for Boromir, so that he wouldn’t have to wear his trail clothes during his time in Imladris.

The food was on a table in the sitting room. They took their places on the low couches surrounding it. “I want us to come to an understanding, Boromir,” Aragorn said. “I don’t expect you to regard me as your king.”

“No!” Boromir interrupted, “We all know who you are Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and if any will ever be called king in Gondor, it will be you. I am not pleased that you did not tell me whom you really were when we first met, but that was your choice. Even so, whether or not you choose to fulfill your responsibilities as king, you’re still the heir to the crown. It is not meet that you should serve me, the son of your Steward, in any way.”

Legolas stifled a laugh behind his hand, while Aragorn was frankly embarrassed. “I had no idea you felt so strongly, I am not used to being regarded in such a way,” he said, blushing. “As foster son to Elrond, I’m used to serving his guests. There was no intent to insult you.”

“It is sometimes hard for me to remember that not everyone holds to the strict rules of precedence my father insists on,” Boromir said, ruefully. “Everything is different here, and so unexpected. So far, elves are not at all like I was told.”

Legolas laughed openly at that. “We don’t always share every aspect of our nature, Boromir. You would not have been invited to join us the other night if your reputation hadn’t preceded you.” At his questioning look, the elf added, “Something about you, your brother, and a pair of twins in Anorion. They passed through Mirkwood on their way home.”

Boromir smiled fondly, “Ah, yes, they were identical, they thought Faramir and I might be twins. Lovely young ladies, we had a memorable time. I was able to renew their acquaintance when I passed through Esgaroth.”

“I’ve heard they dance quite regularly in the taverns there,” Legolas said. “Let’s eat. I’m sure you are hungry.”

The food was varied and good. They talked of the scouting parties that had already left, and those yet to leave. Boromir wished he could send a message to his brother and Éomer, but secrecy denied that to him.

“Speaking of secrets,” Aragorn added. “Elrond and most of the elves of Imladris are pretty straightlaced. They turn a blind eye to what goes on in this wing as a courtesy to the Mirkwood elves who keep these rooms for state visits.”

“We have a bit of a reputation with the other elves,” Legolas added with a smirk. “Also with the dwarves, men, and I guess about everyone else, too. There is nothing like a party in Mirkwood.”

“Tomorrow I need to ride out and meet with some of the scouts. I was hoping you would let me show you around Rivendell today,” Aragorn said.

“I would be honored,” Boromir answered.

“I would join you, but a messenger arrived from my father last night. I’ll be tied up in meetings all day,” Legolas told them. “Besides, Elrond has been dying to tell me how scandalous I’ve been.”

“He has your best interests at heart,” Aragorn said.

“Which is the only reason I allow it,” the elf remarked as he left.

The two men spent the rest of the morning exploring Aragorn’s boyhood home. Rivendell was beautiful and totally beyond anything in Boromir’s experience. The open view of the valley was the complete opposite of the caves and tunnels of Thranduil’s domain, which was all that he’d really been able to see there. It was a little disconcerting to hear Aragorn addressed by so many different names, and in such a familiar manner, but he soon became used to it. This was clearly not Gondor.

During their private lunch in Aragorn’s rooms, Boromir felt the connection, which had begun in dreams strengthening. They talked idly while they ate, with frequent comfortable silences. They had been quiet for some time, when Aragorn turned to Boromir. “What does the tattoo on your shoulder mean?” he asked.

“It means that I am your property,” Boromir answered, looking him in the eye. “My brother and I have dreamed of you for years. We both decided that we belonged to you above all else.”

Sliding from the couch to his knees, Boromir took one of Aragorn’s hands in his. “It is my destiny to serve you,” he said. “My brother’s dreams have never erred, and he has seen you saving our city and our people, as have I. He has seen me bringing you back to Gondor.” He shared the dream with Aragorn, except the part about his own death. “We established a rather large following in preparation for your return. My father still resists the idea, but he has made several grievous errors in the past year and has become more amenable to my counsel.” Then Boromir proceeded to tell him of the sabotage of the bridge at Osgiliath and of his father’s use of the palantir.

Aragorn drew Boromir back up to sit beside him as he continued. Boromir gave him a complete report of the state of both Gondor and Rohan, including the intelligence gathered from their extensive network of spies. “I should probably apologize to the wizard for not trusting him. If we had warned him of Saruman’s activities, he might not have been captured,” Boromir said.

“He can be stubborn sometimes as well,” Aragorn told him. “He might have sought to verify your findings and accidentally revealed your knowledge and sources.” He paused, thinking of his old friend for a moment, “but I’m sure he would appreciate an apology.”

“Then I will be sure to give him one as soon as possible,” Boromir assured him. “What of this quest to destroy the ring? It will be difficult for the hobbits, even as brave as they are, to travel all the way to the black mountain.”

“I had hoped that you might agree to accompany them with me, at least as far as Gondor,” Aragorn told him. “However, if your father is using the palantir, we might not be safe there.”

“My brother has showed me how to detect him using it to spy on me,” Boromir advised. “If Frodo keeps the ring concealed, we shouldn’t even need my warning.”

“But if Saruman or the Dark Lord learn that you are traveling with hobbits, they may guess our errand,” Aragorn worried.

“They would more likely believe that we sought to use it ourselves, my Liege,” Boromir disagreed. “Gondor is sorely pressed and I could easily see those of the Dark Lord’s ilk thinking we would stoop to using their vile tools.”

“The ring affects you so strongly then?” Aragorn asked. “Even now that you’ve had some rest?”

“I could tell that the halfling still carried it when we saw him earlier,” Boromir acknowledged. “Though with it out of sight, it didn’t cause me as much distress as it did at the council. I’m sure I could travel with them. We’ve lived for quite some time with the unshielded effects of the palantir; this isn’t any worse.”

“Then I will tell Elrond that you are willing to go at least as far as Gondor,” Aragorn said. “I’m sure that your knowledge will be invaluable.”

They discussed possible routes for their journey and what they might need. Aragorn began to feel more comfortable with Boromir’s manner; even as leader of the Dunadain he wasn’t treated with such deference. As afternoon faded into early evening, a knock at the door brought servants with food and drink for them both.

“I made plans for us to spend the evening together,” Aragorn told Boromir. “That is, if you wish to, my Lord.”

“I am honored, my Liege,” Boromir accepted.

“I’d wager that you always knew your place in this world,” Aragorn said, putting a hand on Boromir’s cheek.

“Since birth,” Boromir agreed, placing his own hand over Aragorn’s. “My father has told me as often as possible that I am the heir to the Stewardship of Gondor. My brother made sure I understood the history of our line and, together, we swore ourselves to your service.”

“I was twenty when Elrond told me of my heritage,” Aragorn told him sadly. “I had wanted to be a healer and had studied at his side whenever possible. Though I did learn some statecraft there as well, I’m sure you know he was herald to the last elven high king, Gil-Galad.” Aragorn continued telling Boromir of his childhood among the elves and how he had left Rivendell to make peace with his destiny.

As Aragorn spoke, Boromir realized that his face was familiar from more than just dreams. “My uncle, Imrahil, has a portrait of you in his study at Dol Amroth,” Boromir said into the silence that arose when Aragorn paused, trying to think of how to tell him of his prior history as Thorongil. “You served as advisor to my grandfather, Ecthelion II, and also to Thengel.” He paused, looking deeply into the eyes of his future king. “You were also at Forlong’s camp last fall; you didn’t want us to know you were there.”

“I didn’t want to cause unnecessary strife between you and your father,” Aragorn confirmed his statement. “Though how I managed to leave without full discovery is beyond me. One of Faramir’s manciples even approached me just before the morning’s battle.”

“It was what you wished,” Boromir answered, now more sure of his connection with his liege. “Belgar was going to tell us who you were, but I ordered him to silence. It was what you wanted me to do.”

Aragorn was stunned. He knew that there was some measure of control he held over Boromir from his talks with Arwen, but not this much. “I had no idea you were so sensitive to my desires.”

“It is more than we had hoped, my Liege,” Boromir said exultantly. “My father uses the palantir to spy on his people, usurping a power which is reserved for you. It has brought great distress and almost ruin to us. I believe the wizard Saruman uses it to control him, or at the least to feed him false knowledge. We decided that if we could know your will without waiting for messengers or relying on the old ways, many of which have been corrupted, then we would all be the better for it.” He told Aragorn of how they originally decided on the tattoos of the king’s seal on their shoulders and how, over time, they had worked them into the rituals and spells that their people used to strengthen their unity and keep them safe.

“There is at least one highly placed member who bears the mark in each of the noble houses of Gondor,” Boromir gave a self-deprecatory smile as he continued. “More often than not, it is the heir to the house and a first night offspring of either mine or my brother’s. We have bound them to you and to us by blood and oath, spell and kinship. If you were to return to Gondor today, all the great houses would support your claim.”

“Unfortunately we cannot return immediately,” Aragorn told him. “We must do what we can to assure the destruction of the ring before we turn our sights on home. If the dark one reclaims it, all will fall into darkness and be lost, no matter how well our plans are set.”

“I am yours to command, my Liege,” Boromir said, returning to his knees at Aragorn’s feet. “Body, heart and soul I am yours.”

Running his fingers through the soft blonde hair, Aragorn couldn’t help but to pull the younger man’s face up for his kiss. It was unbelievably easy to lose himself in Boromir’s complete submission. His previous lovers were mostly equals with a few of higher rank, at least to his mind. Even Arwen, maybe especially her, seemed to be far above him when they came together. Boromir melted into his touch, passively urging him to take control. Pulling his velvet tunic up enough to reach the laces in his pants, Aragorn began fumbling with the cord.

“Let me, my Liege,” Boromir whispered, low and sultry, making Aragorn even harder behind the restricting cloth. There was no little skill in those fingers that made such short work of their errand that the older man gasped in surprise when his engorged cock sprang free from its confinement.

Looking down at the blonde head, he almost began to worry at the amount of time Boromir simply looked at his fully erect penis without comment. “You are so beautiful, my King,” the younger man finally whispered as he leaned slightly forward and reached out with his tongue to capture a bit of precum from the tip. All his experience and all the rumors had not prepared Aragorn for the expert mouth that closed over him and slowly swallowed his length. Completely. He would have orgasmed right then, except for the adept hand that pulled his swollen balls just so.

As Boromir stopped moving, Aragorn almost cried out in frustrated lust. Then his hands were guided, one to each side of his future Steward’s head. Taking control, as he knew Boromir wanted, Aragorn began moving the sweet mouth in an ever-increasing pace on his copiously leaking cock. Never before had he experienced such a degree of control over his partner and knowing that Boromir could take whatever he could give him made the act even more pleasing.

Aragorn was well endowed, but Boromir took him easily to the root. He relaxed into his lord’s grip, only keeping the suction constant, not worrying about displaying any of his extensive skills. This was for his king alone and Boromir wanted him to experience the pleasure of complete dominance. It wasn’t long before Aragorn’s pace became uneven as he reached climax. On impulse, he pulled from the warm mouth to let his cum spray across Boromir’s face. He groaned as he saw the younger man open his mouth to catch what he could on his tongue.

Collapsing back on the low couch, Aragorn watched in newly rising lust as Boromir brought some of his spilled seed to his lips. It reinvigorated him and Aragorn felt himself hardening quicker than he ever had before. Leaning forward again, he began removing the light tunic Boromir had chosen to wear that day. With no other distractions, he saw the beautiful designs carved and tattooed into the younger man’s chest.

“Let me see,” Aragorn whispered as the tunic fell to the floor and he began running his fingers across the tree and the initials on its bole. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, so beautiful.” Once started, there was no stopping his hands from exploring the landscape of scarred and colored flesh over tight muscle. He could tell that Boromir had lost weight and maybe a little muscle tone. “I want you to take it easy and relax while I’m gone,” he said into a perfect ear. He gently turned Boromir until he could see his seal tattooed on the golden shoulder. The exquisite workmanship and detail took his breath away.

As Aragorn’s fingers came into contact with the warm flesh, a bolt of energy shot up his arm. Boromir arched back, crying out in surprise at the flash of power that coursed through his body. Moving restively beneath the hands of his stunned liege lord, he slid out of the soft slippers and loose pants he was wearing. Naked, he prostrated himself before Aragorn.

“I am yours to do with as you will, my Liege,” Boromir reaffirmed his earlier words. “I offer myself to you in hope that you will claim me as your own.”

Aragorn had read the words and was aware of all of the ceremonies. He even knew which rite Faramir had used to claim his manciples. This was more than he had ever considered possible and he knew there was no way he could refuse. With gentle hands, he grasped Boromir’s hips and pulled him to his knees, admiring the long beautiful line of the man down to where his shoulders still rested on the floor.

“I claim you as my own, Boromir, son of Denethor of the House of Hurin,” Aragorn said as he slowly entered the relaxed body. He was still wet enough from Boromir’s saliva and his own cum that there was little pain. “You are the first part of the kingdom that will be mine when we return to Gondor.” Wanting to say more, be more reassuring and masterful, he could only gasp in pleasure as his body moved of its own accord to finish the pledge between himself and this man. Before he could totally lose all restraint, Aragorn felt the movements and pressure from Boromir’s body guiding him back into control. It sent an indelible image to his mind of his Steward always being there to help guide him on the proper path.

Still, it was only moments before he reached completion, heard and felt Boromir cry out his own release beneath him. After a few minutes of lying side by side on the floor staring deeply into each other’s eyes, Aragorn urged him to his feet. “Come Boromir, let us retire to my bed,” he said.

“As you wish, my Liege,” Boromir quickly answered.

“When we are in private, I would have you only call me Estel,” he told him, stopping to put a hand to his cheek and look into his eyes once again. “It is what all those who know me and love me call me. There is no one I would have know me or love me more than you.”

“Estel,” Boromir whispered, tears slowly running from his eyes as he felt the bonds of prophecy and loyalty in his heart. “It is what I wish as well.”

Nervous energy had kept Faramir from spending his time with the court of Minas Tirith. Much of his day had been occupied inspecting the siege preparations and dealing with the unexpected problems that came up with displacing such a large populace so quickly and for so long.

Although he feared for their safety, he was gladdened to see Faril and Sayil amongst the children still in the city. The roads had become too dangerous to send them back with the onset of winter rains and increased enemy activity, so he exiled them to stay with the other boys their age. Though they pouted and protested, he knew they were thrilled to be allowed to stay in the city at all. Since both had been training as minstrels and had kindly brought their instruments with them, he assigned them to play for the men as they worked and for special occasions.

Faramir returned to his room as the odd feeling that had been plaguing him all day increased. He was about to bathe when a flash of energy passed through him. The tattoo of the king’s seal burned in a pleasurable pain so intense that he lost his footing. Stefle was able to catch him before he fell, his eyes widening as he saw flashes of light flare across the seal.

“He has found him,” Faramir whispered as he tried to regain his feet, unable to control the wide grin that covered his face.

• Looking at the elf in front of his desk, Elrond wasn’t fooled by his appearance of youth. When he had first met Legolas at the forming of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, he was already over a thousand years old. Now here he sat, still looking as if he hadn’t reached his majority yet.

“I am sending a dispatch to your father today,” he told him. “I’m letting him know of your intended participation in the quest to destroy the ring.”

“You do realize that he will come to stop me?” Legolas asked.

“I’m sure he’ll try,” Elrond answered. “But there is enough bad feeling between us, I will not conceal this from Thranduil. If you write him yourself, he might understand.”

Laughing outright at the idea, Legolas shook his head. “Ada still doesn’t believe I’ve reached my majority. There will be fireworks in Imladris.”

“What about the Gondorian?” Elrond asked.

“You haven’t written about him as well?” Legolas almost jumped from his seat.

“Of course not,” Elrond said. “But if your father comes, he will find out. Saelbeth will not say anything, but you haven’t been in the least discrete. Things are bad enough without an enraged father marching on Gondor to defend his son’s honor. We were barely able to stop him the last time.”

Legolas smirked at the memory, his face going quickly neutral at Elrond’s outraged expression. “If I have a half hour warning, I can take care of that problem,” Legolas assured him. Then a speculative look crossed his face. “It might solve a few other problems as well,” he added with a wide smile.

“What are you plotting now?” Elrond asked with a sinking feeling.

“Nothing world shattering, my friend,” Legolas told him. “But rest assured that I have learned how to deal with my father quite well in the last age. Of course the whole thing with Isildur would have gone a lot better if my grandfather hadn’t been throwing such a fit. He never cared much for me since my birth gave Ada sole rulership of the northern half of Greenwood. Besides, I never make the same mistake twice.”

“I’m not sure I entirely trust your confidence, Legolas,” Elrond was honest. “But you know Thranduil better than any of us here. Just remember there is much more at stake here than just the ring. Boromir will not thank you if you make your father his enemy.”

“All will be well, Elrond,” Legolas said with a grin. “Boromir is not Isildur and I am not even the same as I was back then. You will see.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Elrond said with resignation. “Galadriel took a lot of convincing to lift her ban on you. If things go badly before you even leave, she might change her mind. Will you have a letter ready for your father in two hours?”

“I have one now,” Legolas said with a smirk, pulling a sealed missive from his robes.

“There are times you almost unnerve me, Legolas,” Elrond told him as he took the sealed letter. “If I didn’t have Glorfindel and Erestor to counter you, I might feel completely lost.”

“Ah, yes. I should speak with them as well this evening,” Legolas smirked. “Boromir will no doubt be spending the evening with Aragorn, so I shouldn’t allow myself to be at loose ends. You never know what kind of trouble I might get into on my own.”

With a sigh, Elrond dismissed the younger elf and called for the Mirkwood messenger. A startled cry from the other office told him that Erestor would soon know of Legolas’s intention to keep him and Glorfindel occupied for the night. Despite his chief counselor’s posturing, he knew the three were fast friends and more, whenever possible. It helped to ease his doubts. Both Noldor elves were much older than him and had proven to be completely reliable. He could only hope that their trust in Legolas would again prove worthwhile.

When the beautiful elven princess who was to be his lord’s queen entered the room, Boromir made to rise from the bed in courtesy. At her signal, he relaxed against his liege and watched her cross the room. As she sat on the bed beside Aragorn, he stirred in his sleep until she ran a hand down his cheek and whispered words of comfort in his ear. Sighing, the older man nestled into the man in his arms and returned to his dreams.

“He has been very worried for you, my Lord Boromir,” Arwen said quietly. “He was afraid he had turned you against him.”

“I would die first, your Grace,” Boromir spoke up quickly. “Most of my life has been spent preparing for his return.

“My father gave Estel’s kingship as a requirement for my hand in marriage,” she told him. “He despaired of fitting in as ruler despite his many years of service in Gondor and Rohan. In all that time, he never really felt he fit in, even though both Ecthelion II and Thengel placed great trust in him. I think that his failure to win your father’s friendship affected him greatly.”

“My father calls no man friend, Liege Lady,” Boromir said with a sad smile. “I seem to be the only one who has ever found his approval, and sometimes that was even grudgingly given. I have read all the accounts of Estel’s leadership and even his martial treatises. He has no need to doubt his abilities.”

“Both you and I know that, my Lord,” Arwen whispered. “But I think he still needs reassurance. I can think of no one better than you to guide him and show him what a great leader he is.”

“It is my privilege, Liege Lady,” Boromir assured her. “There can be no higher honor for a Gondorian.”

“I have every faith in you, Lord Boromir,” she said before resting her head against Aragorn’s shoulder closing her eyes to sleep, a sign of her human heritage.

Boromir also closed his eyes, secure in his liege lord’s arms. His thoughts turned to home and, as always, his beloved brother.

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