Comfort in the Dark

Summary: none given.

Author's Note: This is my first time writing humans outside of an RPS rpg, as well as my first time to participate in such a challenge. I hope that I do not disappoint. *smiles* Special Thanks to suemichave for all her most helpful advice. *hugs*

**___** = actual quotations from the movie

The Fellowship had sailed most of the day down the Great River after having left the protection and reasonable serenity of the Golden Wood.� Each member had reflected on the parting words and gifts of the Lady Galadriel, the loss of Mithrandir, and the need to continue toward their ultimate goal of reaching Mordor and destroying the One Ring.� By nightfall, the small band was weary once more and in need of rest, knowing that the morrow would see them approaching ever closer to the one place none wanted to go.� �

There had been an underlying threat growing all day for the group, a sense of urgency heretofore unrivalled in their journey.� The feeling was one of being approached by an unseen evil.� Aragorn, for his part, realized that the threat was more than the bitter determination and outright obsession of the creature Gollum, who had been following the group since before Mithrandir was lost to them.� No, there was something more sinister at work, the Ring calling the forces of darkness to them like a beacon.� It was clear that the lone Elf, Legolas, was attuned to this fact as well from the glances that he and Aragorn exchanged as they all floated down the river in the tiny Elven boats supplied them.�

As night quickly approached, Aragorn called a halt to their journey, instructing all to make for a small inlet along the river-side, where they might take there rest.� Gimli and the Hobbits soon took to setting up camp with a small fire for making their meal and for warmth, while Legolas, Aragorn, and Boromir searched the perimeter for any sign of trouble and made decisions on the best places to set the watch.� The Elf, who required much less sleep than the others, agreed to take the first one so that the others might quickly find some rest.� After the meal was finished and the others began to settle in for some hopefully undisturbed sleep, Aragorn moved toward a large boulder where Boromir seemed to be fixated upon something floating downstream.� The Ranger briefly apprised the Gondorian that it was Gollum who had attached himself to a log and stayed perilously close to the group, though Aragorn had hoped to lose him along the river.� The thought of the creature following them and potentially bringing great danger to them all, did little but stir the man's already overwhelming need to try to convince the Ranger of their folly in taking this path to Mordor.�

**� "Minis Tirith is the safer road. You know that," Boromir said, his eyes pleading again for Aragorn to heed his words. "From there we can regroup, strike out for Mordor from a place of strength."�

Aragorn shook his head slightly. "There's no strength in Gondor that can avail us," he answered softly.�

Boromir's voice raised slightly at the perceived insult, "You were quick enough to trust the Elves!� Have you so little faith in your own people?" he asked in disbelief. "Yes, there is weakness.� There is frailty.� But there is courage also, and honor to be found in men, but you will not see that," he concluded bitterly, but when Aragorn turned to leave, Boromir reached for the cloak the Ranger wore and jerked him closer. "You are afraid!" he spat out at the other man. "All your life, you have been in the shadows, scared of who you are, of what you are."�

That was more than the Ranger could take.� He had had enough of those that questioned his character, his valor.� He knew that this was not the road that he had intended to take for himself, but no one would call him coward.� He freed himself from the man's grasp before he leaned in and half-sneered at the Gondorian. "I would not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city."� He threw the words in the man's face, feeling sorry for his vehemence, if not the words themselves, the moment the disbelief and despair registered in Boromir's face.� **�

Aragorn steeled himself to speak to the man once more, but when he turned, he could see only the outline of Boromir as he wandered into the tree line.� Aragorn hung his head in defeat and looked for the Elf.� He saw Legolas but fifty paces or so from him, certainly close enough for an Elf to have heard all that took place, though he was sure even the Hobbits had heard the heated exchange.� He motioned to Legolas that he was going to follow Boromir, confident that Legolas would watch over the others as well as make sure he had the privacy needed to speak with Boromir further.� Legolas simply nodded his understanding and moved into his watch position.�

Traveling some distance into the forest, the Ranger used his well-honed tracking skills to locate the Steward's son.� He found Boromir perched in the soft moonlight on an outcropping of rock along a small hillside, his head bowed in despair.� The weight of all of Arda seemed to be draped upon the man's shoulders, and Aragorn felt great sympathy and understanding for the beleaguered warrior.� He quietly approached and came to stand beside Boromir, lightly touching the larger man's shoulder with an outstretched hand.� The Gondorian started only slightly and looked up at Aragorn with accusing eyes that were filled with the slightest moisture.�

"Have you come to rejoice in my misery, Ranger?" Boromir's jaw was set roughly as he softly ground his teeth.�

Aragorn was taken aback by the implication. "Nay, friend.� There is no rejoicing in the pain of another."�

"Then why not leave me to my thoughts?"�

"Boromir..." the Ranger sat beside the man and began hesitantly, swallowing harshly as he pondered his next words. "I would further explain myself, if you will allow."� When he received a grudging nod from the other man, he sighed nigh imperceptively and after steadying his own swirling emotions continued, "I can see that my words have caused you pain, and for that I am sorry.� However, I must confess that my words and beliefs would be the same whether for the men of Gondor, Rohan, or any others.� This small, seemingly insignificant band of gold is dangerous, more dangerous than an entire army if in the right hands.� It is foolish to trust it to any but the ones most likely to resist its call.� Even now, we have been fortunate that the magic of the Elves has allowed them to resist it for the relatively short periods it has been within their realms, though I do not doubt that the temptation has been great even for them."�

"And the little ones?� Do you think that they are stronger than men also?"� Boromir returned, his brow furrowed in confusion.�

"The Hobbits are different from you and I, even from the Elves.� They have led sheltered lives without the cares of the rest of the world.� Evil has not touched them, and therefore their hearts are purer, their souls heartier, for it.� Yet one such as Frodo can only fight the pull as long as he has aid to do so.� We are his strength, his weathervane for that, and we must continue to be so.� The fewer that know of the presence of the Ring the better for our success in its destruction.� Sauron's minions will not stop until he sees it restored to his possession.� Even the might of Gondor cannot stop him now, as Isildur could not before us.� It corrupts from within until all is laid to waste."� �

Aragorn watched the uncontrollable shaking that emanated from the man, though whether it was anxiety or anger, he could not tell.� He closed his eyes briefly and then slowly wrapped a supportive arm around Boromir.� The man flinched only a few moments before settling into the loose hold that Aragorn had established, his head bowed with worry and defeat.� Tears stung his eyes as he fought to keep them from spilling down across his cheeks.� He had never felt so utterly helpless in his life, and by the soft soothing that he received from Aragorn, the other man realized it as well.�

"Let me comfort you, Boromir." The Gondorian felt the breath from those words fall softly upon his ears and shivered.� "I would offer you a warrior's comfort, if you would have it."� The whispered voice continued sending waves of emotion spiraling up Boromir's spine.�

"I have...never," the words seemed to stick in his throat, which suddenly felt overly constricted.� He looked hesitantly into the Ranger's eyes, but only saw compassion settled there.� How did one explain such a thing?� The words finally seemed to pour out as his mind recounted the reasons. "Since I was old enough to bear a sword, my fate has been set.� As my father's eldest, it has always fallen to me to show strength and dedication to duty, to give encouragement and be a symbol to others of the might of Gondor.� How could I seek comfort in others and therefore show weakness or uncertainty when they looked to me to make things right again?� I dared not show my own true feelings lest it confuse or dishearten my men. Couple that with the demands placed upon me to marry and father future Stewards, and there was little I could do but suffer alone, my father's pride in me, my men's confidence, and my little brother's kindly ear my only comforts."�

Aragorn listened silently as Boromir shared his thoughts and memories.� He understood well how it felt for others to have high expectations of a person and how those expectations weighed heavily on one's heart and mind.� Had he not, himself, experienced much the same and fought against it tirelessly?� Here was a fellow warrior, a Lord among men in his own right, who could well understand his own trepidations.� The need to help Boromir find even temporary solace swelled within Aragorn's breast. �

He turned to face the man more fully and swept the back of his fingers along the strong jaw. "Trust yourself to me, Boromir, and I will give you the comfort you have long been denied.� There is no reason for you to forswear your needs with me, for we are alike in others' expectations of us.� There is no shame in us seeking comfort in the dark this night," he finished before taking Boromir's face in both hands and kissing him gently upon the lips, looking for confirmation.�

When at last those lips moved against his in willing supplication, he deepened the kiss, running the tip of his tongue against the man's bottom lip and silently requesting entry into that warm orifice.� His hands moved away from Boromir's face and began to caress the man's chest and arms through his tunic.� A slight gasp from the blond was all that Aragorn needed to plunge his tongue into the depths of the man's mouth, greedily exploring and suckling on the slick tongue he sought there.� �

Feeling the Gondorian's strong arms wrap around him and his wandering hands gliding along his back, he slowly broke their kiss and gently pulled away long enough to divest himself of his elven cloak to spread it out carefully.� He lowered Boromir onto his back atop the cloak that now lay upon of the slab of rock before leaning in to capture the supple lips once more.� His hands began to trace patterns along the quivering abdomen before carefully pulling the tunic free of the man's breeches to allow his calloused fingers to map out Boromir's chest.� He released the man from their kiss and trailed nips and kisses along the strong jaw line as he listened to Boromir's ragged breathing.� His thumb and forefinger caressed and lightly tweaked each of the pebbled nipples of the Gondorian as he continued his hungry assault upon the man's neck and then teased his earlobe unmercifully.� �

Boromir began to undulate under him, seeking greater contact for his burgeoning erection.�� When Aragorn felt it pressed against his own thigh so urgently, he moved down the man's body placing kisses at every bit of flesh he exposed in pushing the tunic upward until his mouth replaced where his fingers had previously been upon the man's nipples.� He suckled first one and then the other, lavishing them with the attention needed to properly distract the man while Aragorn worked the ties of the blond's breeches loose and began to slowly divest him of them.� He pushed them along the man's hips, patting the man meaningfully until Boromir raised himself far enough for Aragorn to shimmy them off his hips and down his strong thighs.� He could feel the man's heavy erection spring free as it jumped in the semi-cool night air and brushed his hand as he massaged the pelvic area.� �

All the while Aragorn's teasing tongue, teeth, and lips lapped, nipped, and kissed along Boromir's abdomen until he was swirling the wet digit in and out of the blond's naval, reminiscent of the actions he intended to perform elsewhere soon.� When he had moved downward once again, he finally allowed himself to fully take in the sight of the man's hardened member.� It was tightly curled upward against his pelvic bone, and the tip glistened with pre-cum.� Aragorn was not surprised by its girth, having long since realized that his mannish cousins of the North were generally quite different than his elven kin.� While the Elves seemed to possess greater length, the men were thicker and their smell muskier.� �

Aragorn nuzzled into the thick patch of hair that surrounded the straining member and let his nose drink in the scent that was wholly Boromir.� He flicked his tongue along the base a couple of times and listened to the blond's ragged hisses.� When he felt the Gondorian's gloved fingers filter through his hair, he carefully repositioned himself once more and, locking eyes with the man, ran his wicked tongue across the head of his cock and into the weeping slit, lapping at the salty-sweet tang he found there.� Boromir reflexively arched his hips seeking greater contact, and the Ranger was forced to push his hips back down and secure them with one forearm before he took the bulbous head within his mouth.� He slowly glided his mouth down upon the swollen length and took it in as far as he could, reveling in the small moans and gasps that greeted his ears as he did so.� Relaxing his jaw, he began an arduous pace broken only when he took time to catch his breath as he swirled his tongue along the underside and head of the blood-gorged cock or took one of the ever-tightening seed sacks into his mouth and suckled upon it.� He felt Boromir's body tighten, and he released the twitching flesh allowing the man's pearlescent essence to coat his lower abdomen.� �

With a few light licks to the now softening flesh, Aragorn cleaned the sated member before gently scraping up some of the fast-cooling seed onto his fingers.� He moved those fingers until he touched the displayed perineum and circled the tight ring of muscle he found there.� Carefully, he began to insert one finger, his forearm upon Boromir's hips moving as his hand rubbed soothingly upon the man's side.� When he had one finger fully within the blond, he stroked this way, then that, until he located the small bundle of nerves that when touched, caused the man to buck and gasp wildly.� He took the opportunity to add another finger while the man still shook from the unexpected pleasure.� Scissoring his fingers, he began stretching the taut opening until it could accommodate a third digit easily enough, without great discomfort to Boromir.� Aragorn waited until the blond rocked back upon his fingers before he withdrew them to loosen his own raging erection from its material confines and seek out the seed still coating the man's abdomen.� He slicked himself with the remnants of Boromir's spending and turned the man on his side, lifting his leg accordingly, before placing his own blunt head at the man's previously manipulated entrance and nudging it briefly.� �

Though Aragorn could not see it, a certain amount of fear shown in the Gondorian's wide eyes at that movement, but there was also more than a fair amount of lust and need in them.� Understanding that Aragorn was waiting for his permission, Boromir nodded hesitantly in answer.� With that, the brunet slowly penetrated the outer barrier and began to sheath himself within that blissfully tight heat.� Gasps and groans greeted his slow but insistent forward motion until he was fully seated within the blond's velvet channel.� He paused, letting the Gondorian adjust to the filled sensation.� When Boromir experimentally pushed back upon him, Aragorn began unhurried rhythmic plunges within his depths.� Any slight remaining discomfort was quickly displaced when the brunet angled his thrusts to brush against his prostate again and again.� The Gondorian took his own length within his gloved hand and began to stroke it in time with Aragorn's thrusts.�

Boromir murmured nonsensically as the heat of passion began to sweep him away once more.� Aragorn leaned forward to press kisses upon the man's neck, feeling the blond's body begin to tighten once more.� A keening wail trumpeted his completion this time as ribbons of cream coated glove and abdomen.� The tightening channel soon milked the Ranger of his own spendings as the warm liquid rushed out within Boromir coating his insides.� The blond collapsed onto his back as the brunet shuffled further to the side to allow him some room temporarily before resting his head upon the larger man's shoulder.�

He grasped the hand that was still coated in Boromir's seed and gradually raised it to his mouth.� He licked the palm of the coated glove and then each of the five fingers in turn until he had thoroughly cleaned it of any remaining evidence of their passion.� Then, he leaned forward to grasp the corner of his cloak and wipe the rest of the blond and himself clean.� When he finished, he wordlessly helped Boromir redress and did the same, before settling once more into a gentle embrace with the Gondorian.� The blond fell into a sated sleep while Aragorn rubbed his hands back and forth in a soothing gesture along the bracer on the man's left arm.� Aragorn lay dozing occasionally and listening to Boromir's quiet breathing until the sun began to rise, and he woke the man so that they might return to the others before they all awoke.� �

With a final gentle kiss, the two softly tread through the woods and back to campsite.� Boromir went downstream a little to wash up while Aragorn found the Elf and the Dwarf and apologized for leaving them alone to guard the others.� The Dwarf good-naturedly groused about their safety being well defended by his axe and not to worry before wandering off to begin some sort of breakfast.�

"Are things well now, Aragorn?" the Elf asked kindly, a slight twinkle of understanding in his eyes.�

"As well as they can be, my friend.� As well as they can be," Aragorn agreed half-heartedly.� Though the Ring's call upon the man had lessened with the comfort given, he could not help but wonder if it would be enough to sustain the Gondorian as they continued to Mordor.�

There was little time to discuss anything as the Hobbits and Dwarf prepared breakfast while the others readied the small boats for yet another day upon the Great River.� Soon, they were once again floating downstream and all thoughts briefly turned to the majestic sight of the Argonath, the Pillars of Kings.� There huge stone likenesses of Isildur and his brother An�rion stood on either side of the river unknowingly welcoming their lone direct descendant as he led his weary group past them.� The sheer size of these monuments to kings of old, silenced the group into thought, until they once again took to land at Parth Galen.� Each set about his assigned task of making ready a campsite to attain what they hoped might be one last good night's rest before crossing the shore and walking toward Mordor.� �

By the time that Samwise Gamgee realized that his dear "Mr. Frodo" was nowhere in sight, Aragorn experienced a cold sense of dread and unease settle upon him.� He looked around and saw no sign of Boromir either.� He turned to look at Legolas and knew that his trepidation was not for naught.� He hurriedly told Sam that he would find Frodo and took off at a run.� He scoured the area and finally located the Hobbit some distance from the group.� It was clear that the little one was disturbed by something, even pitifully offering the Ring to Aragorn, which he, in turn, refused.� Suddenly, they found themselves staring at a contingency of Saruman's minions approaching quickly up the hill toward them.� �

Aragorn warned Frodo to flee and take the Ring to Mordor, as he stepped into view and began to engage the enemy.� Soon, Gimli and Legolas had joined the fight and between the three of them, they managed to slay many of the evil creatures before hearing the Horn of Gondor sound, knowing that it meant Boromir was in dire need of them.� The remaining creatures fled in the direction of the Horn as well hoping to join forces with those minions engaged wherever the sound came from rather than fight in such lessened numbers against the Man, the Elf, and the Dwarf.� By the time that Aragorn could find him, Boromir lay dying, pierced by three black arrows and leaning next to a fallen log.� All around him were the dead that he had slain before he fell.�

The Ranger quickly dispatched the archer who had shot those arrows and rushed to the Gondorian's side.� He leaned over the man and tried to calm him.�

**� "They took the little ones," Boromir rasped loudly.�

"Be still," Aragorn advised.�

The Gondorian was not listening. "Frodo? Where is Frodo?"�

A look of resignation crossed Aragorn's face. "I let Frodo go."�

"Then you did what I could not," the blond shuddered. "I tried to take the Ring from him."�

"The Ring is beyond our reach now."�

"Forgive me," Boromir begged. "I did not see.� I have failed you all."�

Aragorn shook his head and looked deeply into the blond's eyes. "No Boromir.� You fought bravely.� You have kept your honor," he finished as he placed his hand around the shaft of one of the arrows.�

"Leave it.� It is over." Boromir's grief was thick in the air. "The world of Men will fall, and all will come to darkness, and my city to ruin."�

Aragorn's eyes began to show his quiet determination as he looked upon his fallen lover struggling. "I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you I will not let the White City fall, nor our people fail."�

"Our people, our people," Boromir repeated stiltedly with what relief and appreciation he could still muster.�� He reached for his sword, and Aragorn swiftly retrieved it for him.� The blond took it and laid it upon his chest in supplication.� "I would have followed you my brother, my Captain, and my King."� His last words echoed in Aragorn's mind long past when they left his lips.�

Aragorn's sorrow was immense as he leaned forward and kissed the fallen man's brow. "Be at peace, Son of Gondor."�

He stood slowly and turned to a still Legolas and Gimli and spoke softly, "They will look for his coming from the White Tower, but he will not return."� **�

They bore Boromir's body back to the boats, and after Aragorn had taken the favored bracers for himself as a reminder of his one time lover, they put the man's body into one of the boats.� His sword was secured by his arms to his chest and the Horn of Gondor was placed at his side, 'ere they left his body to drift down the Great River back toward his beloved Gondor.�