It was early morning in the warmth under the trees of Lothl�rien. and the golden haired Rumil O'Lorien with his paler brother, Orophin, lay resting under one of its mighty oaks, arm in arm. Here they spent the days before the coming of the Fellowship, lazing in one another often when they were not patrolling the Golden Wood's borders with their older brother Haldir. But now there was a darkness falling, even in this place the moss wasn't as soft, the green not as vibrant.
Haldir had been assigned with watching over those of the Fellowship, now broken with the loss of Gandalf and it had brought new wrinkles to the Marchwarden's brow. Having no love of Men to begin with, this only made the young brothers resent the coming of the Fellowship more. Long ago they had displayed their feelings toward men by refusing to learn Weston and now, as soon as they had been allowed, they strayed far from the place given to the eight to rest.
Across the vale, another slipped away from that place. Unable to relax after the baleful gaze of Galadriel, Boromir of Gondor slipped out into the wood for thought and reflection. He's mind was troubled by more than this vision of the future however, for being surrounded by so many elves had given him a different kind of restlessness. Elegance of the body that Boromir had never seen before, tempted him and he had caught his eyes staring more than once at both male and female of the pointed eared race. Indeed, some of them were hard to tell the difference, though he had especially found himself drawn to the Marchwarden Haldir. This was quickly broken off with a few hard words from Aragorn about diplomacy and respect of guest to host resulting in the Gondor guardian in the place he was now.. Lost.
Boromir wandered the woods aimlessly, stumbling over root and rock, and stopped suddenly when he heard soft voices and laughter coming from somewhere ahead. Slipping into a more stealthful mode, he crept up to the small clearing where the sound came from and peered just in time to see two slender blonde elves embrace and one move off while the other smaller, stayed. Boromir recognized these fair ones as the younger brothers of Haldir, introduced to him and the rest of the Fellowship upon their arrival. He'd thought the pair extremely arrogant at the time, though now with this small one alone, dressed in the silvery garb of the Galadrhim, he saw great beauty as well.
Rumil watched as his brother Orophin returned to Caras Galadhon in order to begin his day's patrol. With half of the elves wrapped up in the preparations of the hobbits and men, Rumil had been assigned a separate watch later that evening, separated from his brother for the first time in months. He sighed soft, watching the other disappear and was about to turn away when he felt eyes on him.
Boromir knew he should have turned back right then, but the madness of greed was coming more often these days as his mind was poisoned by the closeness of the One Ring, and denied that, his mind would not deny him the pleasures set before him now. As soon as he was certain the other elf was far enough away, Boromir stepped from the clearing. Rumil turned, his lightning blue eyes flashing dangerously as slender fingers reached for the knives at his waist. "Ya naa lle?! Mankoi naa lle sinome?!" *(Who are you? Why are you here?)
Boromir spoke no elfin, but offered a smile and turned his hands upward in a show of no weapons and peace. The blonde elf's eyes narrowed, but his blades slowly returned to their nest. Rumil, youngest of the three brothers, was also the most fearless. It had indeed gotten him into situations before that had overwhelmed him, and this was no different. He did not retreat even a step as Boromir came close, the scent of man filling his sensitive nostrils made his upper lip twitching ever so slightly in disgust.
"Your name, its Rumil, is it not?" The Gondor warrior spoke soft, his hands still extended outward as he came to stand just a foot away from the other. Rumil met his gaze, hard and cold and he repeated the name with a distinctive roll of his tongue, drawing out the "R" to give it more grace. It was more arrogance to Boromir and set the stage for his actions. Quick as a viper, the larger man's hands turned from passive to strike out and grip the elf's wrists with a hard twist. It brought the unsuspecting Rumil to his knees with a sharp yelp of pain. The golden elf attempted to pull back, but Boromir was too fast, shoving the young elf to his back and binding the slender wrists quickly with his strong leather and steel bindings. Rumil growled and fought like a badger caught in a trap but the weight of Boromir was more than he could fend off. The Gondorian merely sat on him until he stopped struggling, slapping his face when the elf resorted to spitting at his attacker. "Quite the little demon, aren't you? Good. You'll be more fun to tame."
"Amin Feuya ten'lle!" Rumil sneered, his eyes nearly able to sear with its intense hatred, but Boromir's deep laughter greeted the insult and he retorted "I do not know your language, pretty thing. Try again in Weston if you want your freedom."
Rumil snarled like a wolverine and twisted around onto his belly, trying to lift himself off of the ground with his bound hands. Boromir smiled and knelt behind him, grabbing the elf's slender hips and lifting them up off the ground. Even as his hands made their way to the front of Rumil's gray leggings, the elf could not believe the audacity of this man. Furious, he spun his head round and in perfect Weston yelled, "NO!"
Boromir laughed again, letting Rumil drop back down to the ground hard and rocked back on his heels over the elf. "I knew you could speak my tongue with proper motivation, little devil. Shall we see what else of Men you have knowledge of?" Boromir stood, dragging the elf up from the ground and lifted his arms high above his head, looping the leather bindings of the elf's hands over a broke, yet strong tree limb. Rumil's toes barely touched the ground as he hung like a slaughtered deer, still twisting and growling out curses in his own tongue and Boromir began stripping him of his� Galadrhim garb. When the slender blonde was bare bottom and his tunic opened as far as his bindings would allow, Boromir stood up close to him, opening his own britches and let his course fingers move over Rumil's sex.
Rumil's cry caught in his throat, unwilling to give this man any pleasure from the sound of his torment. It was freed quick enough as Boromir pinched the quickly swelling mushroom head, followed by teeth, hard on his two raised nipples. Twisting as he hung from the bough, Rumil clamped his eyes closed and let out a long howl of pain tainted pleasure. The elf waited for the next bolt of pain, but the torment took a new turn as something wet and warm encased his Elven pride. "Ai Valar!" cried the elf as his hips betrayed him and thrust towards that mouth that threaten to make him spill. Boromir worked him well, drawing out the sweet nectar of the elves in tiny droplets. Hungry for more, Boromir brushed his callused finger against Rumil's silk button opening, causing the elf's legs to tremble and part as easy as Gandalf had with his word of mellon.
Boromir watched as the golden elf went from fight to acceptance to desire for forfillment. As he stroked the tender opening with his finger, his mouth devoured shaft and sac, producing a mewling from Rumil that sounded less and less like someone being forced to perform. If there was any doubt, it was erased as the elf's slender legs wrapped themselves around Boromir's shoulders and his muscles tightened to turn the tide of control. Boromir suddenly found himself with Rumil rocking his hips firmly against his bearded face. When the Lothl�rien elf reached his climax, Boromir's fingers bit into the pale Rumil's skin and held him firmly as he drank the sweet rush down. Rumil's cries were loud and Boromir wondered in truth, if they would be discovered by them, but then thought if he knew elves at all, cries like this echoing through the woods would be commonplace.
Spent, Rumil lay his head on his shoulder, his throat dry from his cries and sweat trickling down the center of his chest. Boromir, still very much in need of release, stood and cupped the weakened elf's face, kissing him deep and slow. He pressed his tongue past the now,� more willing lips and gave Rumil a taste of himself. Blue eyes, only slightly less angry, looked back at the Man through out the kiss and when Boromir finally pulled away, he spoke low and without malice. "If you promise to behave, I might just take you down from there. Your arms must be nearly out of their sockets by now."
Rumil just turned his head away in angry defiance.
Smirking, Boromir shrugged and turned, withdrawing his belt from his britches and making a show of it in front of the elf. Eagle eyes watched every movement and when Boromir started to slap the leather against his hand, Rumil fidgeted against the tree. "Is Rumil going to be good or will I have to make him good?" He spoke slow, quite sure the elf knew more Weston than he let on. Rumil hissed through his teeth and glared defiantly. Boromir knotted the leather around his hand and moved closer. Fear started to rise in the young elf's eyes and just as Boromir reached out, taking Rumil's hip to turn him, the soft whimper came, "Rumil ... good." .
"Did you say something elf? I couldn't quite hear that." Boromir smiled, running the leather over the soft skin that would soon be marked.
"Rumil ... is be good!" The broken Weston tumbled out in panic as the leather tickled the sensitive skin between the tight globes. Boromir brought the leather down hard, once on the left cheek and growled against Rumil's ear. "That's for pretending to not understand." Rumil jerked and his long lashes were kissed with tears, more from humiliation than the bite of the lash. Boromir didn't think the elf could have become more beautiful, but with the softening of tears, it made his heart ache even more for this creature.