Title & Chapter Number: Lure of the Gypsy 1/1
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: Shadow's Lair
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is all belongs to Tolkien.
Warnings: Slash. Some graphic language/sexual content. A little romance.
Betas: larian_elensar
Cast: Boromir/Gildor
Timeline: Before the Fellowship meets. Mostly book cannon as PJ saw fit to delete this beautiful elf from the movies.
Spoilers: At this point? I'd say none. We all know Boromir is going with the Fellowship, right?
Summary: Boromir meets an elf gypsy on his way to Rivendell.
Notes: I was chatting with Alex_cat from LoTR_Adult_Fiction one night and this is the result.
Boromir allowed his horse to choose it's own pace. The rain had turned the roads to mud and the soft plop of the horse's hooves splashing through puddles and the twitter of birds was the only sound. Boromir's eyes scanned the horizon ahead, his green gaze constantly shifting, searching for enemies, signs of ambush.
The son of Denethor had enemies, both known and unknown, which was why he was on the road to Rivendell in the early autumn. His dreams of late were troubled and dark, full of portends he did not understand. But he knew that trouble was coming for his people and his lands. He could feel the shifting tides in his blood, could smell the coming of war. Every patrol that came back to Minas Tirith told the same tale.
The black gates welcomed new allies.
Singing reached Boromir's ears. He pulled tightly on the reins and cocked his head, listening. The voices were light and the harmonies complex. The tongue unfamiliar. There were many of them, whoever they were. And they showed no fear of discovery. His eyes roamed the tree line, seeking the direction from which the singing came. He thought he discovered it and focused on a stand of birch trees.
Were those elven voices wandered so far from home?
Boromir shifted in his saddle, sending the fine-tooled leather creaking as he listened. The song was beautiful and never mind that he understood not one syllable. For a tiny moment, his heart grew lighter, as though the weight of his people, his kingdom, and his dreams had been washed away by the lilting voices. The horse blew air though his lips and shifted restlessly.
The spell was broken.
He placed his heels against the horse's flank and the animal moved forward. Boromir kept his head cocked, still listening, though not as intently as before. The heir to Gondor's stewardship was mildly curious, nothing more. He was only passing familiar with the elven kind. He knew only of the three nations of Mirkwood, Rivendell, and Lothlorien. Rarely did men see those delicate beings. Though probably the elves saw men far more frequently than men saw elves.
Funny how everyone seemed happy with that arrangement.
He drew abreast of the copse of birch and an elf stepped from beneath the shade. His hair was light brown and hung down his back. Twin braids framed his handsome face. Lights danced in his brown eyes. Tall and lithe, the elf was a representation of beauty beyond compare, a god come to earth. His hand stretched out to Boromir, welcoming him.
Boromir's breath caught in his throat.
"Tis late in the season for men to be traveling. The news must be urgent indeed for this way leads to Rivendell and its lord, Elrond." The musical voice offered no hint of danger, no threat, though he managed to convey a sense of condescending superiority tinged with humor.
Captivated rather than put off, Boromir brought his horse to a halt. "I do travel to Rivendell, friend. Do you have news of that place?"
The elf laughed. "Oh, I have news of every place for I am a wanderer of my kind and I live neither here nor there, call no place home yet am comfortable regardless of where my body rests."
Behind him, more elves materialized, as if spat from the earth just that moment. There were only a dozen of them, all dressed similarly in gray and green and brown. The colors of the earth and growing things and shadows wove around them until Boromir was hard pressed to discern where they began and the world ended.
"Come, travel with us a while and let us learn what we may from each other," the one said as he stepped lightly on to the road. "You are not the only one going in this direction."
At first Boromir thought the elf referred to his troop, but something made him reconsider. Dismounting his horse, he walked beside the elf and the others formed a long line behind them. Gildor led them, setting a pace to rival a marching army, though none complained, even Boromir.
"I am called Gildor," said the elf. "These are my companions. Will you share your name with us?"
"I am Boromir of Gondor." The man hesitated to give his full identity to these strange elves. Though he had never counted them as enemies, these wanderers were an unknown quality.
"Denethor's son." Gildor supplied. "And he sends you to Rivendell. Ill portends abound, I fear."
Stunned, Boromir's mouth opened and closed. He could think of many things to say, but he was uncertain they should be said. So he said nothing, only continued to walk beside Gildor, sharing in an oddly companionable silence.
He assumed they would stop when the sunset, but they did not. Rather they continued to march, still singing, as though they had no fear of any enemies. Elven eyes guided him in the gathering gloom and someone took the horse's reins from his fingers.
"Why have you ventured so far from your home, my friend," Gildor asked at long last. "Will you share your tell with traveling elves?"
"I seek Elrond's council," Boromir cautiously replied.
"There are many doing just that these days," Gildor said cryptically. "Many are on the move and many go see Lord Elrond. The trees whisper of things dark and unfriendly."
Boromir shivered and he stumbled over a stone protruding in the darkness. Gildor grasped the man's arm and steadied him.
"You speak of things that have troubled me for a while. I know what pours in to the black gates. My people have seen it. My people have died so that others in Middle Earth are safe. My people are in grave danger and I know not where to turn. Will you share with me your thoughts? You know far more than you have spoken of and your council may help me and my people."
As Boromir did not pull away from his arm, Gildor slipped his hand down until it clasped his wrist. "There are many things in Middle Earth of which I could speak. But cannot, for they are not for me to speak of. Nor is my council of any use to you, Boromir, for you go to see one whose wisdom is far greater than my own. Let the lord of Imladris guide your future while I guide your night."
Something crawled up Boromir's spine. He felt an innuendo underlying the elf's words, but he hesitated to acknowledge it lest he was wrong. "Your company is appreciated."
Gildor laughed. "The moon grows round above our heads and it is time for us to seek our rest." With those words, Gildor pulled Boromir from the road and into a clearing that the human would never known was there.
Quickly the elves set about building a fire. From small packs and rucksacks, fruits and bottles of clear liquid were passed around. Gildor held the flask to Boromir.
"Drink, Boromir, and be refreshed. Tonight you are the guest of the elves and we will share with you what hospitality we may."
The man sipped cautiously and found the drink cold and sweet and his fatigue seemed to wash away as the liquid washed away the dust from his throat. He instantly felt refreshed, despite the length of the day's travel.
Gildor led Boromir to a bower of trees that the elves had woven into a comfortable nest. "Seat yourself, Boromir. Tonight you are our guest, remember?"
Another elf came and offered Boromir food. Gratefully, he took it. Gildor seated himself on the sweet smelling pine branches and made himself comfortable. Beneath the light of the full moon, the remaining elves sang and danced.
"You are a merry troupe for all that you say you hear whispers of dark things." Boromir could not help observing. The elf's body was warm next to his and was glad of the companionship.
"There is much to make us merry, for the moon shines brightly and the birds still sing. When those things are no more, then I will not longer be merry. As for the shadows many see and feel creeping across the land, those, too, shall one day pass."
"In your life time. Mine, I fear, will be far too short to see the end of such things," Boromir replied grimly.
"Have you some vision? Special knowledge? You can see the future?" Gildor's questions came one after the other and were just mocking enough set Boromir's teeth on edge.
Boromir's temper burst from him. "Aye, I have knowledge. Visions I have had, for I do not know what else to call them. I see a darkness crawling over the land, consuming my people. Consuming me."
"The future is not carved in stone. The future is more like the ripples in a pond when the first raindrops fall. Each ripple grows and spreads until it touches another ripple, and both courses are altered." Gildor said. "Dreams are the ripples by which we are touched. Yet, even now, perhaps your future is altered, for you have stumbled upon us. And we have stumbled upon others."
"What others," Boromir fixed on the reference. Twas the second time that day that Gildor had alluded to such.
"You will know when the time comes." Gildor waved away the question.
"Why do you not try to rest? The moon is high and you must be tired. Come, elf friend, for that is what I name you, rest and let us watch over your slumber. None shall disturb you whilst you rest in our company."
Boromir swallowed and stared down at his hands. "Would that I could. Sleep eludes me."
"The dreams you mentioned?" Gildor reached behind Boromir and gently pulled him down on the soft pine boughs. "Let me sooth you, Boromir. Tonight you shall have no dark dreams."
Boromir shivered. There was no mistaking Gildor's meaning or intent this time. Did he dare? The elf was handsome, almost beautiful, with his long dark hair and laughing brown eyes. His lithe body was stronger than it appeared and yet an ethereal gentleness was all that Boromir could see or feel. Allowing himself to be pulled back in the embrace, Boromir stared up in to the warm eyes.
A light finger traced the lines of worry and fatigue along Boromir's forehead. "There is nothing to fear here, elf friend."
Boromir swallowed as the light finger tickled his features. The other hand snaked inside his tunic and caressed his chest. Part of him wanted to be, should have been, outraged. He should rise in indignation and throw the elf's advances back in his face.
Boromir knew what he should do.
Instead, he wriggled more comfortably into the embrace. The soothing voices and Gildor's actions eased Boromir and he relaxed, as he had not done since the nightmarish dreams had begun to haunt him. The elven voices faded in to the background as he focused on the sensations being created by Gildor.
He and Gildor seemed alone in the glade.
Strands of dark hair tickled his cheek and Boromir sighed contentedly as every muscle in his body unknotted. He felt boneless, weightless. Nothing disturbed the content sensation coursing through him. Gildor was not pressed or hurried. He did not press his advance. He only soothed.
If he did more?
Boromir raised his hand and brushed it over the fine ends of the dark hair. They felt like silken strands of gossamer. Boromir smelled honeycomb and pine. He felt cool air touch his skin but did not know where it came from. Then he realized Gildor had undone his tunic, baring his chest to the night air.
When had that happened?
Strong hands roamed over the fine hairs of his chest and down his stomach. They went no further and Boromir was disappointed. A warm palm glided across his nipples and they peaked. Gildor smiled down into Boromir's face. Something about the smile sent pleasant chills all over Boromir's body. He took Gildor's hand and pushed it along his fevered skin.
Gildor's eyes seemed to absorb the moonlight and reflect it back at Boromir like a mirror. His hand moved up Boromir's jaw and cupped it in his palm. The shadows grew deeper as Gildor leaned forward, slowly, and laid a gentle kiss against Boromir's parted lips.
Sweetness and light.
Boromir's mouth opened wider, inviting Gildor to explore his warmth. Nor did Gildor waste the invitation. His tongue darted inside Boromir's mouth and swirled around his tongue before dipping out again. Boromir's hand came up and clasped the back of the elf's neck, holding his head down. Gently, Gildor sucked Boromir's bottom lip. He sank his teeth in to the soft flesh and rubbed the tip of his tongue over the slightly swollen flesh. Boromir moaned in to his mouth.
Gildor's hand glided over the bulge in Boromir's erection and they groaned in unison.
Lifting his head, Gildor shook back his hair. His cheeks were flushed and his eye bright. "Do you?"
Boromir laughed softly. "I am not stranger to this, Gildor."
Gildor shifted so that Boromir was lying on his back on the pine boughs and Gildor lay beside him. Boromir turned on his side to that he faced Gildor and laid his hand on the elf's smooth cheek. The skin warm and soft and Boromir allowed his hand to roam further down, over the long column of Gildor's throat and over his strong shoulder. His hand grazed the well-muscled chest. His fingers undid the toggles of Gildor's tunic, baring the elf's chest. Boromir lowered his gaze and stared at the flesh peaking from beneath the opening.
Spellbound by the beauty unfolding before him.
His head dipped lower and his lips connected with the pale flesh. Boromir tasted salt on his tongue. His tongue snaked out and flicked over Gildor's nipple and Boromir smiled to himself as it pebbled. His lips closed over the nipple and he sucked and bit. He felt Gildor's hand cup his head, pulling him closer.
Never before had Boromir tasting anything so sweet.
The elf thrust one long leg between Boromir's, pressing his thigh against the man's erection. He caught the sound of soft moans as Boromir's lips tasted and teased his nipple. The man was so greedy in his need. Gildor unlaced the leggings, freeing Boromir's erection into his waiting palm.
It was like steel sheathed in velvet.
Gildor stroked it once, experimentally, feeling the pre-cum slick his hand. Boromir lips released Gildor as a long groan erupted from his throat. Gildor pushed Boromir over on his back and began a slow, thorough assault of his mouth. He kissed the man until both of them were breathless and nearly dizzy.
They were in a world unto themselves.
Releasing his mouth, Gildor moved down, taking a bite of Boromir's neck just beneath his ear. The man arched beneath him, rubbing their cocks together. Gildor sighed at the contact. When Boromir reached between them and fumbled with Gildor's laces, Gildor raised his hips to give Boromir's hands room to work.
Oh, how lovely those rough hands felt caressing his heated flesh.
Boromir's arm wrapped around Gildor's neck and pulled the elf down. He nuzzled aside the silky hair and nipped at the earlobe it hid. Gildor hissed sharply and twisted his head, silently encouraging Boromir. Needing no further instructions, the man ran his tongue over the outer ridge and up to the delicate point. He sucked and bit the tip, delighting in Gildor's fevered response.
"Love me," he whispered against the ear.
Gildor's short nails dragged over Boromir's skin as he reached to pull the leggings further down. When they would go no further, Gildor growled and glanced down between their bodies.
Boots.
Dragging himself away from Boromir, he slithered down until he could unlace the offending boots and throw them aside. Suddenly inspired by the sight of Boromir's feet, Gildor knelt and sucked one of his toes into his mouth. He could feel Boromir's body thrumming with need.
Were all men so beautiful?
He crawled back up Boromir's body and lay between thighs made strong by years on horseback. Boromir's hands stroked down his back, pulling down the tunic and exposing his flesh to the cool air. Gildor wriggled until his was able to toe off his own boots and kick them aside. His leggings quickly followed.
His blood sang in his veins.
Boromir drew his knees up, giving Gildor access to his body. Slender fingers probed the puckered opening and then pushed gently inside. He smothered Boromir's moan with a kiss. Gildor gently twisted his finger inside Boromir's body, stretching and kneading the tight channel. His finger brushed the small bundle of nerves and Boromir arched upwards.
Gildor knew then that Boromir was ready.
He raised himself up on his knees so that his cock pushed at Boromir's entrance. He paused, looking deeply into the man's eyes, searching the depths for signs of discomfort or fear. He found none. He pushed and with a soft grunt, entered Boromir's body. He'd never before experienced such tight heat. The inner muscles clamped around him and squeezed, trapping him; holding him. He pressed down and felt Boromir shudder beneath him.
And the pain and pleasure mixed, melded, become one.
Boromir wrapped his legs around Gildor's waist and pulled him closer. Deeper. Gildor placed his arms on either side of Boromir's head and smiled down at him. He tensed his back, pressing against Boromir, driving himself deeper in to the slick heat. He and Boromir groaned together when Gildor brushed that sensitive spot deep inside the man.
"You feel so good beneath me," Gildor said before he captured Boromir's mouth with his own.
Abruptly he began to move, thrusting hard and fast in to Boromir. The smell of pine and sex assailed his nostrils. Boromir's soft cries echoed in his ears. Strong fingers clutched his shoulders. He balanced on one arm and grasped Boromir's weeping cock and began stroking it in time to his thrusts. Boromir arched at the contact and began a litany of words that had no meaning.
And the stars seemed to fall from the heavens.
Sunlight glittered against Boromir's eyelids and he groaned softly. He opened his eyes and looked around.
The elves, including Gildor, had gone, leaving Boromir asleep in the pine bower. He stretched languidly. He was moderately disappointed, though not surprised. He had understood that Gildor would not be with him come the light of day. Boromir pushed aside his cloak and located his discarded clothing.
No dreams had troubled his sleep and he felt rested and refreshed. He whistled for his horse and the animal came obediently. Once he dressed, Boromir reached for his flask and realized it was full of the same sweet beverage he'd been given the night before. Further checking revealed that the elves had given him some of their food.
Boromir mounted his horse and turned it back towards the road.
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