Title & Chapter Number: Everholt 4-5/?
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: Dalo's Archive
Fandom: Middle Earth
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Characters not mine. I'm just a guy who loves guys loving guys, filling in some gaps, with all due respect to Tolkien.
Warnings: Slash (duh), Angst. Homosexual relationships and acts. Nothing kinky, but definitely down and dirty at times (we're talkin' NC-17, folks). You gotta problem wit dat? Here's a tip: DON'T READ IT!!!
Betas: Elfscribe (Luv ya!)
Cast: Boromir/Théodred
Timeline: Third Age
Spoilers: None
Summary: Radagast takes it upon himself to heal Boromir's broken heart by encouraging the Gondorian to take a trip down memory lane.
Notes: This fic is part of the same story arc which began with "The Hand of the King," my first fic, and will continue with "The Heart of the King."
Chapter 4 - Everholt, July, 3004, TA
The morning was already warm when I awoke to the bright sunshine. Fortunately, the bed was still in shadow or my head would have been broken open by the piercing light. I smelled food being prepared and looked to find you at the hearth cooking breakfast. You apparently had been up for a while, for you were completely dressed and had packed all your belongings.
"Good morning," I called.
You turned and gave me a cursory glance before turning back to your work. "Good morning, Boromir. Did you sleep well?" Your voice sounded cold and distant.
I rose and stepped into my pants as I answered. "Yes, I did. But that should be no surprise, after last night."
"I'm afraid my father's wine completely trounced me last night," you said without turning. "I can't remember anything after dinner. That will teach me to steal more than one bottle from my father's cellar."
I was stunned. I felt suddenly very vulnerable and resumed the search for my shirt, which I located almost immediately. It had been right in front of me last night. Apparently I had been so distracted that I completely overlooked it. I slipped the garment over my head and tucked it into my pants.
"Sit down, Boromir," you instructed. "Your breakfast is ready."
I sat at the table, and you brought me a plate of food. My eyes sought yours, but you would not look at me directly.
"Are you not eating?" I asked.
"I already ate."
"Oh." I stuffed a forkful of eggs into my mouth. "It's delicious," I commented with my mouth full.
"Just leave the plate and silverware. I'll have someone pick them up later."
"Where are you going?" I asked, attempting to keep the alarm from my voice.
"I must return to Edoras." He began to pack up the bedrolls.
"Right now?"
"Yes, Boromir. Is that a problem?" you asked, your voice edged with irritation.
"No. Not a problem." I did not understand your behavior. I had thought the night before to be something very special. Did you really remember *nothing*? It hardly seemed possible, for I remembered every single moment. Every touch. Every kiss. How could you forget such an incredible connection?
"I will present the details of our meeting to King Théoden."
"Every detail?" I probed.
You finished packing the bedrolls and looked at me with an expression of exasperated confusion. "Of course. Why would I lie to my father?" you asked.
"Never mind," I said, hiding my profound disappointment.
You slung your packs over your shoulders and prepared to leave.
"So, Boromir." You finally looked me in the eye. "This has been an enlightening experience. I trust you are equally satisfied with our meeting?"
The blue eyes that last night danced in the firelight were now icy and dead.
"Yes. Satisfied." I felt an abyss opening within me. I lowered my eyes, returning my attention to my plate. My appetite had disappeared and I pushed the food around instead of eating it.
Your next question caught me by surprise.
"Do you think we should do this every year?" you asked.
I looked up at you, hope renewed, but your eyes were yet cold.
Still. . . .
"Yes, I think we should," I agreed before I had time to second guess myself. If any chance existed that last night might be recreated, I intended to take it.
"Excellent," you said, smiling for the first time that morning. You extended your hand. "Same time, next year?"
I grasped your offered hand in agreement as I searched your eyes for some warmth. "I shall be here," I promised. Your touch felt as if it set my hand ablaze and for moment I thought I detected a flicker of orange flame in your eyes.
We released our grip, and I felt the warmth slip away.
"Until then," you said, "farewell, Boromir of Gondor." You turned and left the clearing without another word.
I watched you go, wondering what had happened.
"Farewell, Rohan," I answered softly to the empty pavilion.
~*~*~*~
Chapter 5 - Lothlórien, January, 3019, TA
"I did not finish Théodred's breakfast before I left, but I washed the dirty dishes nonetheless, leaving them clean on the stone table. Then I mounted my own horse and left Everholt for Minas Tirith," said Boromir.
As a wizard, I had heard of morning-after regret and denial among humans, but had never encountered it first hand. "It would appear I've had memory problems from the very beginning," I said.
"Memory problems, punctuality problems, honesty problems. It's a wonder you've succeeded in the military at all."
"Serious charges. And what evidence do you present?" I asked.
"Evidence? My testimony has only begun, old friend."
Boromir appeared to be enjoying this banter, belying the seriousness of the issues involved. I took this as a positive sign.
"In faith, I can not refute your allegations," I said. "But I wish to hear the details of my transgressions. Will you not proceed, Boromir of Gondor?"
"If I must." He smiled as his eyes met mine. He paused, his eyes beginning to mist. "I have missed you so much, Rohan."
I reached up and wiped the tears from his cheeks. "There now, Gondor. Do not weep."
Boromir drew himself up and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands, drawing a deep breath to gather his composure.
"I'm fine," he said. I was amazed by the depth of emotion in this man's heart. He was not what I had expected at all.
"So when did we meet again?" I asked.
"Well, we had no contact until shortly before I was to leave for Firienwood the following summer. I received a brief letter from you confirming our appointed time. It said you were looking forward to meeting with me again. My heart raced as I galloped towards Everholt . . . ."
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