It was drawing toward dark, and the ramparts of the Deeping Wall were lined with watchful eyes.
Everyone in the fortress of Helm's Deep knew that Saruman's Uruk-Hai army would be upon them shortly. And among the defenders of the Keep........human and elvin alike..........a grim sort of determination lit their features. They knew that they were hopelessly outnumbered. Even with the addition of the Elves, which had been dispatched from Lothlorien with all speed by agreement by Elrond and Galadriel, the odds still remained in Saruman's favor.
Aragorn turned to look at the one who had spoken, a small smile playing at his lips, and Gimli answered in his gruff voice, "Aye.......I am with you on that, Boromir. I say bring them on!" He bristled with righteous Dwarf fury.
"Patience, my friends," Aragorn cautioned, his tone grim, directing his words at both of them but keeping his eyes on Boromir. "You will be sick unto death of blood and fighting before this night is over, I will warrant."
Boromir did not speak, but he held Aragorn's gaze steadily, and Aragorn could see that the warrior part of Boromir was the master of him right now. His blood was up, his green eyes blazed with a cold fire, his sword was sharpened, and he was spoiling for a fight.
Aragorn sighed, accepting that this was part of who Boromir was. The Gondorian had been raised to fight from the time he could first hold a sword steadily, and was now a finely-tuned killing machine. Ruthless, powerful, and fearless in battle. And it seemed that part of him even revelled in the carnage and bloodshed. Aragorn was much different in that regard. Being brought up by the Elves, Aragorn held their views on war..........Avoid it at all costs, and fight only if you must. The Ranger didn't like to fight. But if a battle had to be fought, he would throw himself into the task and give it his best.
Now, as the time for this battle drew near, Aragorn slipped on his mantle of command and said, "Boromir, I will need you to head up that group on the eastern part of the wall." He stood by his companion and pointed to the people in question. Most of them mere townsfolk of Rohan. A clutch of frightened young boys and resigned old men.
Boromir sighed as he looked at them, and some of the fire in his green eyes dimmed temporarily as he said bleakly, "Look at them, Aragorn. I admire their courage, but they should not be here."
"None of us should be here, Boromir," Aragorn said softly. "But they will need a strong will and a steady hand to lead them. I think that task should fall to you."
Boromir turned to look at Aragorn again, and as their eyes met, something seemed to silently pass between them. Something unnoticed by those around them, but as clear as spoken words to the two men.
Aragorn wished desperately that there was time to speak with Boromir privately. He smiled and said quietly, "There is so much I wish to say to you, but there is no time."
"Then you shall have to say it after the battle is won," Boromir replied confidently, his own voice slightly husky.
Aragorn closed his eyes briefly as a wave of emotion swept over him. Then he opened them again and laid his hand on Boromir's shoulder, letting his fingers lightly graze the side of the warrior's neck and sweeping through the golden strands of his hair. The urge to kiss him was almost unbearably strong, but he could only imagine the thunderstruck reactions of King Theoden and all the men of Rohan if they saw the future King of Gondor and his future Steward locked in a passionate kiss. The thought made him smile again.
Then he knew he had to let Boromir go. The Uruks would be arriving shortly. They had to be prepared. So Aragorn settled for embracing his friend warmly and whispering in his ear, "The grace of the Valar be with you, melda-nin. I pray for your safe return to me."
Aragorn felt Boromir's breath warm against his ear as the warrior replied, "And you to me. I love you, Aragorn." Then Boromir swiftly pulled away from the Ranger's embrace and, meeting his eyes briefly one last time, strode off toward the eastern wall without looking back.
Aragorn watched his lover walk away, and for the first time since seeing the massive Uruk-Hai army marching toward Helm's Deep, he was afraid.
This is a nightmare. It has to be a nightmare.
That was the thought that kept cycling through Aragorn's head as the Battle of Helm's Deep raged on. The Uruks had arrived shortly after full nightfall, and now the fighting was in full swing. The top of the wall where he fought was littered with the dead and the dying.......Men, Orcs, and Elves alike. The whole world was pouring rain, and clashing steel, and blood, and sweat, and screams. Aragorn seriously thought he might go mad before all was said and done.
At one point, when there was a temporary lull in the fighting in his immediate area, Aragorn glanced over to the eastern wall and had seen Boromir slicing his way through the enemy, his massive broadsword hewing down Orcs left and right. Aragorn wished with all his might that he could rush over there, that he could fight at his beloved's side. But his presence was needed here. He ran back and forth, shouting orders in Sindarin to the Elvin archers, chopping at Orcs that scaled the wall, throwing down the enemy's ladders.
Despite the overall hideousness of the battle, and despite being so outnumbered, the fighting was actually going quite well. Their forces were holding their own. What they lacked in numbers they were making up for in sheer ferocity. Aragorn was just starting to relax the tiniest bit when a bright light caught the corner of his eye. He turned his head and saw an Orc running toward the wall, holding some strange type of torch in his hand that burned with an eerie blue-white flame. Whatever it was......it looked evil and it suddenly filled the Ranger with dread. It seemed imperative, suddenly, for that Orc to be stopped.
He ran toward Legolas, shouting frantically in Sindarin for Legolas to shoot the Orc. Legolas pulled back his bow and shot an arrow at the running creature. It found its mark in the Orc's shoulder, but the Orc kept right on running, still gripping the torch.
"Kill him!" Aragorn yelled in Elvish, almost beside himself. They had to stop that Orc.........
Legolas's bow twanged again, and another arrow struck the Orc. But he still did not fall. He ran on. He was almost to the wall now.......
......And then the world exploded.
Aragorn suddenly felt the entire surface under his feet sway and move as if the massive stone wall had suddenly turned to liquid. He swung around and then he saw...........to his horror..........the entire eastern side of the wall suddenly fly into the air in a burst of fire and smoke. The noise was almost deafening. Huge chunks of stone........and flying bodies.......began to rain down on the Orcs below. But there were so many of the foul creatures that the loss of a few was inconsequential compared to the great victory they had just achieved.
The concussion from the blast knocked Aragorn back about ten feet, so that he landed heavily in a pile of rubble. He hit his head hard and had to struggle for a few moments to remain conscious. He was aware of a sound of rushing water and the growing din of Orc war-cries as they rushed through the massive breach in the wall.
"Aragorn!" Legolas cried, rushing to his friend's aid. He was closely followed by Gimli. They each took one of the Ranger's arms and helped him to his feet as Aragorn looked at them with a dazed expression.
"Boromir..........." Aragorn muttered. "Where........where is he?
He saw the Elf and the Dwarf exchange a glance, but before Aragorn could try to interpret it or ask another question, Legolas was suddenly pulling him aside, shouting, "Watch out!"
Just then, three enormous Uruk-Hai soldiers came running at the three companions, their scimitars swinging. Deftly moving in front of the still-dazed Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli made short work of the Orcs. Legolas felled two of them with his knives, and Gimli buried his huge battle axe in the chest of the third one. Then they were dragging Aragorn away swiftly.
Now Aragorn was starting to recover his senses fully, and as soon as Legolas and Gimli had stopped moving, Aragorn immediately grabbed hold of the front of Legolas's tunic in a rough fashion, causing the Elf to look at his old friend with a startled expression.
Aragorn's blue eyes drilled into those of Legolas, and he demanded in a low, harsh voice, "Where is Boromir? Tell me where he is."
Gimli bowed his head, but the eyes of Legolas never wavered. He held Aragorn's gaze steadily as he said in his quiet voice, "Aragorn, you saw the explosion. You saw what happened to the eastern wall. He is gone."
Now the hands that gripped the Elvin tunic began to tremble, and the intensity of the blue eyes began to waver. "No......." he whispered. "No, he could have survived......He could have escaped......."
"Laddie," Gimli said, his normally gruff voice softened with emotion. "Do not do this to yourself. You know nobody on that wall could have survived that."
Legolas continued to watch his friend, his own eyes growing sorrowful as he saw the light in Aragorn's eyes waver still more........then finally break. The Ranger threw a glance over his shoulder to where the eastern wall had once stood, and remembered his last glimpse of it, watching Boromir valiantly fighting the hoardes of Orcs who came at him. He had never faltered, never backed down. He would have stayed at his assigned post. The post that he, Aragorn, his lover and liege lord, had set him to.
So that was why the Valar spared you at Amon Hen, Boromir, Aragorn thought dully. They were saving you to be sent to your death by the one who loved you the most.....
Now he released the grasping claws of his hands from Legolas's tunic, and bowed his head, the grief within him too immense and choking right now to even allow the simple mercy of tears. He also knew that there was still a battle raging out there, and they needed every bit of strength that could be spared if they hoped to survive this night. They had to win this. They had to triumph. He would not allow Boromir to have died for nothing.
So, lifting his head, he gazed at his two friends, both of whom were awed and moved by the deep strength and grim determination in those blue eyes. Even after suffering such a tremendous loss, Aragorn would fight on. He would not admit defeat.
"My friends," Aragorn said softly, only the rough edge to his voice betraying the true depth of his pain, "Let us go out together. For this battle is not yet ended, and there is still much to do before morning."
Legolas laid his hand on Aragorn's shoulder, and leaned his head forward to lightly touch Aragorn's forehead with his own before stepping back. And Gimli clapped the Ranger on the arm, his brown eyes gleaming.
And so, the three companions moved back into the fray, to continue the fight for Helm's Deep.
It was finished. The battle was over. And the citizens of Rohan were safe.
And Aragorn sat alone within the Keep, his eyes on the floor, only half aware of the activity going on around him. Legolas and Gimli had gone out with others to help sort through the carnage and bury the dead. Legolas had his own grief to carry, for many Elves had been lost in the battle as well. Several of them had been known to Legolas all his life. Among them was Haldir, the Captain of Lothlorien and the leader of the Elvin army that had marched to Helm's Deep.
Aragorn grieved for these losses as well, but his own personal loss weighed heaviest on him. Ah, Boromir.....Was it supposed to end this way for us? I thought we were supposed to ride to Minas Tirith together. To rule together as the Lords of Gondor.
"Namarie, melethron" he whispered, his vision now becoming blurred as tears filled his eyes, feeling the tightness in his chest loosen as the pain started to both deepen and mellow at the same time. He drew in another breath, but instead of an exhale, the breath was released in a hoarse sob. With that first sound, the floodgates swung wide and Aragorn buried his head in his arms and wept long and hard until his sleeve was soaked with tears and his voice was hoarse.
Finally, he was able to lift his head, wiping his dry sleeve across his red, puffy eyes. He glanced around at the people still moving about within the Keep, gathering up belongings for the journey back to Edoras, now that they were no longer under threat of invasion. The faces he saw now reflected relief and hope. Yes, many had perished in the battle of Helm's Deep, but one of Gondor's closest allies was now safe.
"We won, Boromir," Aragorn said out loud, his voice cracking. "We beat them, melda-nin. We have triumphed."
"So I understand," a familiar voice suddenly said from over Aragorn's shoulder. The Ranger leaped up and turned toward the sound, then almost fell over with amazement as he beheld the figure standing there.
"Boromir?" Aragorn asked, his eyes wide, his hoarse voice tremulous.
"Yes, 'tis I, Aragorn." Slowly, Boromir made his way toward his friend. Aragorn noticed as he drew closer that blood from a head wound had coated a portion of Boromir's blonde hair. But he still had his wits about him, without a doubt, as he smiled at Aragorn, his green eyes sparkling, as he added, "Once again, your attempts to get rid of me have come to naught, it seems."
Despite himself, Aragorn laughed, then he was launching himself into Boromir's arms, clutching him almost frantically. Although Aragorn would have sworn not two minutes ago that he had used up his full allotment of tears, he found himself now weeping again. This time in unrestrained joy. "Gracious, merciful Valar," Aragorn sobbed. "I never dared to hope........I never dared.........." And then his words were lost as his tears overtook his power of speech.
"Oh Gods, Aragorn. Please do not do this. Please....." Now Boromir's own voice thickened in response to Aragorn's storm of emotion. He stroked the Ranger's hair soothingly, turning his head to press brief repeated kisses to Aragorn's head, his own tears starting to flow now.
Aragorn pulled back suddenly, looking intently at Boromir's face, then he whispered, "Never leave me again........." Then he was capturing Boromir's mouth with his own in a kiss so fierce it was nearly frantic. Boromir responded immediately, sliding his lips over Aragorn's with the same urgency. Both of them were whimpering with the intensity of their feelings, their tears mingling, their hands clawing and grabbing at one another, as if trying to assure each other that they were both really here, and were not going to go away.
Suddenly, Aragorn remembered that they were in an area where someone could come by at any moment and see them together. He reluctantly tore his lips away from Boromir's to look around at a small door to their left that led back further into the caves. With a slight tug, Aragorn urged Boromir over to the door, and both of them went through it, shutting it behind them and moving down the stone-walled passage until they came upon a small, secluded antechamber with a makeshift carpet of hay on the floor.
Immediately, Aragorn sank to the floor, pulling Boromir down with him. He began to make short work of removing the Gondorian's clothing, his breathing harsh and rapid, his hands shaking, nipping playfully but purposefully at the blonde man's neck as he stripped him. As soon as he had his lover completely unclad, he began to remove his own clothing as well, his breathing growing heavier by the moment, his shaft as hard as the stone walls that surrounded them. He felt almost delirious with his need for this man. He knew this encounter was going to be quick and savage. Both of them were much too excited and much too emotionally charged for it to be anything but that.
Aragorn now proceeded to coat Boromir's erection with the only lubricant available to them, and he did this by leaning down and taking Boromir's full length down his throat.
"Oh Gods......." Boromir breathed. He watched intently with glazing eyes as Aragorn sucked greedily on his engorged shaft, the heat and softness of that mouth almost driving him mad with desire.
It was not very long at all, however, before the Ranger pulled his lips off of Boromir and turned around, lowering himself on his elbows and knees, offering himself to his lover with the most brazen of invitations. To entice his lover further, however, Aragorn looked over his shoulder at him. Boromir had moved up behind Aragorn and was now running his hands over the firm flesh of the Ranger's backside. Then Aragorn said in a soft, husky tone, "Take me, Boromir. Prove to me that you really are here with me now. Make me believe, melethron."
With a low growl of determination, Boromir took his erection, still slick with Aragorn's saliva, and guided it to the tiny entrance to Aragorn's body. Then, with one long, slow push of his hips, he buried himself within the hot, clenching passage. Aragorn stiffened all over, and a shuddering moan burst from him as he felt himself so thoroughly filled by his well-endowed lover. Boromir did not pause, but now began to thrust into the body beneath him, pushing deeper and harder each time, his large hands firmly clasped around Aragorn's slim waist.
"Sweet Valar, I love so much having you like this, Aragorn," Boromir murmured between clenched teeth, his voice breaking slightly. He bent over the Ranger's back, wrapping his arms around the other man's torso as his thrusts increased in speed, causing Aragorn to gasp and arch against him. Boromir planted a gentle kiss between his lover's shoulder blades and let out a soft moan of pleasure as he pushed deep into Aragorn again and again. "Mmm........Your body was made for me. Made to be taken by me." With that, he suddenly tightened his grip around Aragorn and lifted the Ranger's upper body off the floor so that now he was almost sitting in Boromir's lap, his back pressed firmly to the warrior's chest.
Now when Boromir began to thrust up into his lover's heated body, he was striking Aragorn's sweet spot each time. Aragorn began to cry out shamelessly, his back arching so much that his head rested back on Boromir's shoulder, his eyes closed, his body trembling and glistening with perspiration. It was almost too much for Boromir, whose own moans mingled with the Ranger's cries as their bodies strained and bucked against one another's in their primal need. Growling softly, Boromir slid his parted lips over Aragorn's shoulder and then bit him sharply, possessively. At that same moment, he let his hand slide down the smooth, taut lines of Aragorn's stomach and abdomen, wrapping his fingers around the Ranger's rigid, pulsing manhood. He began to stroke it as he panted harshly in his lover's ear, "Do you believe I am really here now, Aragorn? Have I convinced you?"
Aragorn could only manage a shuddering, sobbing cry in response, as Boromir worked his hand rapidly over his lover's thick shaft, urging him swiftly toward orgasm. It only took a few more good, hard thrusts into Aragorn's body before the Ranger let out a hoarse yell and shot his seed in white hot bursts over the hay in front of their writhing bodies.
Now Boromir slackened the previously frantic pace of his hips as he slowly brought himself closer to his own release. He wanted to relish the torpid heat and velvety friction of his lover's body squeezing softly around his thrusting member. He wanted to indulge in the taste of the warm, sweat-slickened flesh beneath his lips as he kissed and licked and nibbled Aragorn's shoulders and the back of his neck. He wanted to feel the taut muscles underneath his hands as he stroked Aragorn's chest and stomach, hearing harsh breathing as the Ranger slowly recovered from his intense climax.
More than anything,though.......Boromir wanted to maintain the closeness........the contact. He had seen today how deeply the possibility of his loss affected Aragorn. For today had indeed been a close call. If that young boy had not broken ranks and run away to the dubious safety behind the inner wall, and if Boromir had not followed him in an attempt to bring the frightened youth back to his place........
The explosion had been forceful enough to knock him off his feet, and he came very close to landing on top of his own sword and impaling himself. He had had the presence of mind at the last second to move his arm as he fell, thereby saving himself from certain death at his own hand. Next thing he knew, there was rubble and debris and dust falling all around him. Something struck him viciously in the side of the head, and then he had known no more for a long time.
When he had come back to himself, the sounds of battle had faded, and he was half buried beneath a pile of crumbled stone. Slowly and carefully, he extricated himself from the rubble, gingerly testing all his limbs to ensure that nothing was too seriously damaged, and had walked away with little more than an ugly scalp wound and a slight headache.
The true agony had come from seeing Aragorn's wet, reddened eyes and the deep pain reflected within them as he had first turned to look at Boromir. But the change in them afterward.........The pure, raw emotion that Boromir saw there........
Triggered by such powerful memories as much as by the physical pleasure he was experiencing, Boromir suddenly felt the tingling surge and the flare of heat in his loins, and he let out a long, impassioned groan as he climaxed hard within his lover. His arms tightened around Aragorn, and the Ranger gave an answering soft moan as Boromir pumped his essence deep inside him.
Boromir leaned his forehead against Aragorn's back, breathing heavily and shivering with reaction. Then Aragorn slowly rose up, letting Boromir's softening member slide from his body, and then turned around to settle in Boromir's lap again, this time facing his lover, wrapping both his legs and his arms around the other man to encompass all of him. To try to meld them into one being, if possible.
For a long moment, the two men stared into each other's eyes. Then Boromir reached up to lay his hand against the Ranger's stubbled cheek, letting the tip of his thumb gently sweep along Aragorn's full lower lip.
"Such beauty," Boromir murmured, his voice deepened with emotion and touched with wonder. His eyes followed the movement of his thumb, then flickered up to take in the blue depths of Aragorn's eyes again. "How came I to be so fortunate?"
"'Tis I who am the fortunate one, melda-nin," Aragorn whispered, tilting his head down slightly to briefly capture the tip of Boromir's stroking thumb between his lips, sucking on it lightly before releasing it. "The Valar has seen fit to return you to me a second time, and I can think of no other gift in all this world, or in the next, that could ever mean more to me."
Then Aragorn let his roughened hands slide up to the back of the Gondorian's neck as he leaned forward to touch his lips with his own. Their kiss this time was slow, deep, heavily charged with emotions that ran to the very cores of their beings. It was no mere kissing that they were doing. They were actually tasting each other, each man acting like the mouth of the other was the sweetest of delicacies, to be savored and indulged in. Eyes fluttered closed as lips were gently suckled, tongues stroked and twined together sinuously, warm breaths and soft sighs mingled, their beards rasping over one another's. It went on for quite a many minutes, neither of them seeming to want to release the other. Their pace never quickened, the kisses never became more frantic, but remained slow and sensual. These kisses were not about the buildup of passion, but about the affirmation of the deepest of possible friendships.
And even as the various activities in other parts of Helm's Deep went on, inside this small, private chamber, time seemed to temporarily stop for the two lovers. For that too short period of time, nothing else existed for them besides the warmth and reality of each other, for both of them knew that two simple truths were in place at this moment.
This war was over, and now love was all that remained.
The End
Aragorn stood by the Elves, near to where Legolas and Gimli were. They were all silent, then a low, impatient voice snarled suddenly, "Why do they not make haste and arrive? I do not like this waiting. It is weighing heavily on me."
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