Title: The Gravity of Making Light
Author: Elly
Character: Aragorn, Boromir, Arwen- A/B/A pairing
Rating: PG13
Notes: A/B/A, because I want to get in shape for twinkledru's ficathon. It was going to be longer, with a different ending, but I got there and just thought "Why not let them be happy for a moment?" So I let them.
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He knows he should think it wrong, that he should never have allowed himself to become seduced in such a manner. He should never have allowed himself to become seduced, period. It was for baser men than he, this game he was playing- lingering glances, heated touches and soft kisses. It was foolishness. He is startled out of his reprieve by the feeling of a body shifting and pressing against his back, one hand clasping his hip, lips pressing against his neck. He knows this feeling well, he has experienced it more than a dozen times in as many days. Somehow it is a great comfort to him, but that thought leaves him ill at ease. Then the warmth that he was accustomed to disappears and his companion leaves the bed. He will not pout. The Steward’s son did not pout. Struggling for a moment, he succeeded in preventing this childish behavior. And then blinked, unable to believe that he just had to uses every ounce of self control not to pout when his lover left. It worried him; this tryst was getting too serious. It was a casual affair, how could it be anything but? They were ill-fated and ill-matched, as far as lovers go. That he knew was a certainty. And yet he let himself be loved, physically and emotionally. It was foolishness. Once again a movement brings him from his thoughts to the situation at hand. He opens his eyes to stare into the eyes of the one who lay in front of him. Suddenly nimble lips are on his and he can feel the smile on them. Something in him stirs, he thinks that there is something shifting in his heart, but it is somehow more than just that. It is in him and around him and not there at all, all at the same time. His eyes take in the sight and his heart feels like the world looks when the sun comes out from behind a cloud; bright, a sharpened focus. For a moment longer he is confused. Then it all slips into place. He will not panic. It was not in his nature to do so; his training and his duty required a level head and clear thinking. But still he cannot stop the feelings snaking through him, rushing through his veins. He cannot be in love, simply cannot. It was foolishness. Then Aragorn is moving about in the room, dressing and speaking softly to his Lady in the Elvish tongue too quickly, Boromir cannot catch what is being said. But from her response he thinks Aragorn must have been teasing her. She laughs lightly and curls herself around Boromir, responding in a language that he understands perfectly and is slightly shocked to hear that particular combination of words and tone from the mouth of one who was so gently mannered. It seems he will never stop being surprised by them. He wraps his arms instinctively around her; almost frightened by the way she fits so well, her face pressed smiling into his neck, her hair tumbling everywhere to tangle with his. Aragorn stands half-dressed, looking at the picture they create. He laughs, walking over to the bed to soundly kiss them both. Boromir’s heart was twisting again; the love was blinding him, binding him. Aragorn admonishes them as slug-a-beds, throwing his head back in a laugh when Boromir grabs him by the breeches to pull him close, then whispers "Say that again." It was foolishness. Aragorn disentangles himself; smile brighter than the sunlight in Boromir’s heart. He whispers in Elvish once more and this time Boromir understands what is said, as Arwen echoes the words. Such a small thing, words, which can cause so much to change. Aragorn leaves and Boromir will not show his feelings. He cannot, the risk is too great. Arwen rises, now, her body slender and lovely beyond what little Boromir has seen of the world. She turns to him, brushing her fingers across his face. He always expects them to be cold, but they always match his heat for heat. He thinks now that the bright light is too much to take and he will break apart under the glow. Then she smiles and he finds he doesn’t care. It’s all foolishness. But here in this moment he has found something that made him complete. Her smile darkens a moment and the light in his heart flickers. She cups his face in her hand as she speaks. "Will you protect him, Boromir of Gondor?" He thinks at first she means The Ringbearer, but then her eyes reflect Aragorn and he can see for a moment what it must mean to be her. He is humbled. "You ask much of me, my lady." And it’s true. Aragorn would not submit to being protected or looked after, and especially not by one as young as he. "I can ask only for what you can give me. For what you can give him." Her hand is gone now. She sits proud and naked next to him. "And I can only promise to do what I can. I am just a man, Arwen." He looks the part, propped up on his elbows, nakedness covered as though he had something to hide. "Perhaps that is enough." Her words are not sad and neither is her tone but Boromir hears something there, perhaps it is wisdom, which makes his heart heavy. He is almost angry with her for a moment. Why does she spoil their happiness with dark talk? The moment he thinks it, he regrets it. They live in a dark world, they must always be mindful of threat. It was foolishness to be angry for what he cannot change. She rises and dresses gracefully, simple acts becoming a dance when she moves. The cloud of unease lingers in his mind for a moment, then Aragorn is there again with smiles and food and more merriment than Boromir thought the man could possess. And for now the worries are lost in the heart glow. |