"I will find no rest here. I heard her voice inside my head." ~~ Boromir, Fellowship of the Ring (Movie)
"My Lord?" Aragorn spoke softly, knowing Celeborn was aware of him.
"Come, Estel. Sit." A graceful hand gestured to the bench opposite the silver haired elf Lord.
"There is a matter I would like to discuss, concerning one of the company."
Celeborn nodded, silver eyes fixed on the Man who was for all intents and purposes his grandson. "Is it Boromir?"
"Aye." Aragorn knew the Lord and Lady of the wood often communicated without words, and wondered how much Galadriel had told him of what she'd gleaned from the minds of the fellowship. He was not surprised that Celeborn had guessed at his intent. "He is not as weak as your lady seems to fear."
A raised eyebrow was Celeborn's only response, and Aragorn continued. "I have spoken with him, and he is a noble man, with passion only for his people and his home. He spoke openly of using the ring, it's true, but I sensed - and Mithrandir agreed - he has no desire for power of his own. He already effectively rules Gondor." Aragorn said this softly, remembering with a touch of shame that Boromir had been doing what many considered Aragorn's job for years. "His love, all of his life is given to his people, and defense of his homeland. He speaks of Minas Tirith a ... " Aragorn gave Celeborn a private smile. "He speaks of Minas Tirith as I have heard you speak of the Lady on occasion." Celeborn did not blush, even the tips of his ears, but Aragorn detected a flash in his eyes. "I would not ask your intervention, my Lord, but that Boromir is not resting. He grows more tired with each hour, but she is in his head and grants him no rest. If he does not sleep soon, he will be useless to the company when we depart here, and then he *will* break, as anyone would under such straits."
The elf lord spoke finally. "You speak well of him, Estel, and it is rare, for you hold little opinion of your own kind." While Celeborn held no love for Man, he felt a person should be proud of their people - The people of their birth, as well as those who had raised him. "And you remind me of something my wife may have forgotten in her desire to protect our lands from Sauron. Mithrandir did indeed choose Boromir for this company, and with Elrond's backing. One perhaps may mis-judge a person's character, but not both so grossly." He stood, silver robes whispering. "I will look into the matter." He gave Aragorn a small bow and swept from the garden.
=======================
Celeborn found the man under one of the great mellyrn trees, somewhat apart from the rest of the fellowship. The elf smelled Boromir before he even heard his breath, for the man was smoking, and the rancid scent filled the air, stinging Celeborn's eyes and nose. Not wishing to startle the Man, Celeborn deliberately cleared his throat, alerting Boromir to his presence.
Dropping his pipe, Boromir stood, then bent to scoop it up, accidentally spilling still lit ashes into his hand. Not wishing to betray his pain to the elf lord before him, Boromir carefully brushed the ashes away, hoping none of the cinders clung to his clothes. "Lord Celeborn," he bowed deeply, meeting the elf's gaze when he straightened.
Celeborn returned the bow. "Boromir of Gondor." Noting the way Boromir's fingers were curled, Celeborn moved across the small clearing, carefully picking a leaf from a plant growing at the base of the tree. "Your hand." He met Boromir's tired eyes and gave a small smile, hoping to reassure the man.
Too tired to resist, or even think much, Boromir lifted his hand, showing the slight burns on his palm. They were trifling, and he barely felt them, but his fatigue had weakened him physically and mentally.
Crushing the leaf in one hand, Celeborn took hold of Boromir's hand gently. "You have not rested." he said softly, gently rubbing the juice from the leaves into the light burns.
Unaware that Aragorn had spoken to Celeborn, Boromir dodged the question. "I have been thinking."
"Of?" Celeborn carefully wiped away the excess juice with the remainder of the leaves.
"Home," Boromir glanced at his hand when it was realized. He realized the faint red marks were all but gone, and he truly felt no pain. He flexed his hand slowly. Such burns never took long to heal, but his hand felt ... newer than it had before. "Thank you," he murmured, the fog lifting slightly from his mind. He was about to as Celeborn what he wished when the elf Lord spoke.
"You are from Gondor, yes, Minas Tirith?" Celeborn had been given the details of all those traveling with the fellowship, including their homes.
"Yes. The white city," Boromir's eyes lit instantly and a smile of remembrance came to his lips.
Celeborn nodded faintly, seeing a glimpse of what Aragorn spoke of. "Yes?" he gestured for Boromir to continue as he settled himself on the grass.
Boromir sat and his weariness seemed to be replaced by love as he spoke of his home city. His voice trembled when he spoke of the white tower, the great gates, the crowded marketplaces, the vast land beyond the city itself. Celeborn listened intently. It was not often he heard such passion from any creature, let alone a man. Boromir's eyes were alive as he spoke, and Celeborn was drawn to them. This was a being who knew the pass of time, who felt it with each breath, and still maintained a passion for life that had died in his own kind thousands of years ago. Remembering his original reason for being here, Celeborn separated a part of his mind. Still listening, he reached out carefully, gently, very gently probing Boromir's mind as Galadriel had taught him long ago.
Realizing Celeborn was staring, Boromir stopped, a little embarrassed. "I have bored you my lord, my apologies."
Celeborn smiled and shook his head, his circlet catching the light and sparkling almost merrily. "Do not apologize, I have enjoyed listening." He stood and bowed again to Boromir. "Perhaps we will talk again ere your departure."
By the time Boromir rose to his feet, Celeborn was gone. Settling back down, he took out his pipe and slowly filled the bowl. Bringing the stem to his lips and lighting it, Boromir closed his eyes. With a start, he realized all he heard was the woods around him - no voices. Smiling, he felt himself drift already to sleep, the pipe hanging unlit from his lips.
Having slept, Boromir woke more rested than he'd been in months. Standing, he stretched, and as he raised his arms, caught a whiff of himself. Normally he could go for some time without bathing and not be bothered, but something about Lorien demanded cleanliness. Gathering his pipe and tobacco pouch, he made his way to the encampment where the others were casually gathered. He bantered with the hobbits for a moment before asking where to bathe. They directed him to a pool some distance off, and Aragorn guided him there.
"So you've rested at last," Aragorn smiled as they ducked under a low branch.
"Yes ... I must have passed out from exhaustion." Boromir didn't remember falling asleep, but he remembered Celeborn's visit just before, and didn't connect the two.
"I see," Aragorn regarded him strangely before pushing aside some branches. "In here, it's mostly unused now, take all the time you need." He gestured to the path. "It's easier to find your way back than it is to get here."
"Thank you, Aragorn." Boromir shook the man's arm, then turned back to the small pool. It was naturally formed, one side gently sloping, and the sandy bottom could be seen as clearly as if the water wasn't there. Setting his pack down, Boromir stripped gratefully, mentally preparing himself for the cool water. He was surprised when his first test of the water revealed it to be quite warm.
Putting the soap close to hand, Boromir sank into the water with a groan, feeling it soak away his small aches and pains. Laying his head back, he wondered if this water had anything like the leaves Celeborn had used on him. Remembering the cause of the burns, Boromir felt his blood itch and he reached for his pipe. The bowl was still full from the night before and Boromir had little difficulty lighting a tiny fire from his tinderbox, just enough to light the pipe. Sighing, he smoked slowly, settling into the water, feeling the dirt and grime just slide off his body.
Some time later, Boromir finally rose from the tub. Sorting through his dirty clothes, he pulled out his mail shirt, and dumped the rest into the water. Taking the soap, he cleaned them vigorously, scrubbing at several spots. After spreading his clothes on the rocks, Boromir took out a shaving kit consisting of a tiny razor sharp knife, a small pair of scissors, a mirror, and a tiny comb.
Carefully, humming tunelessly to himself, Boromir washed his beard, trimming and combing it before scraping away the bits he didn't want that had grown too long. Digging a larger comb from his pack, Boromir untangled his hair, wetting it just a little. With the scissors, he trimmed it carefully, able to do so from years of practice.
Seeing that his clothes were still mostly wet, Boromir set about cleaning his boots. He started by replacing the lining, balling the old ones up and stuffing them into his pack before carefully inserting the new ones. With a rag, he began cleaning the outsides, noting several places that would need repairs soon, and made a note to ask for the proper equipment and materials before leaving Lorien.
Finally satisfied, Boromir saw that his clothes were dry enough to wear. Pulling them on, he left the heavy chainmail off for now, draping it over his arm as he made his way back to camp.
Aragorn was right - the trail back was far easier to follow. He heard a sound behind him and turned, seeing Celeborn. "Boromir," the elf lord nodded to him.
"My Lord Celeborn," Boromir bowed in return. "I never thanked you properly for last night. I fear my travels exhausted me beyond common courtesy."
Celeborn smiled and raised his hand. "There is no need, you thanked me last night." His eyes swept over Boromir, noting that he seemed very different now that he was cleaned and rested. Noting his hair and beard had been tended to as well as his clothes, Celeborn nodded to himself, approving.
"Ah. I apologize I was not better company, then, for I barely remember what we spoke of." Boromir remembered the lord tending to a very minor wound, and he remembered babbling about his home.
"You told me of Minas Tirith, and I confess your words moved me. I have not desired to leave Lorien for many an age, yet I wish now to see the white city with my own eyes.
Boromir nearly grinned at that, beaming with pride for his home city. "And the city would welcome you, my lord Celeborn, with open arms. Her banners raised, the palace made ready, the sound of silver trumpets in the air." Boromir's face nearly glowed as he spoke of his home, and Celeborn smiled. Realizing he'd lost himself, Boromir bowed slightly. "Again, my apologies, but my home means so much to me, and I miss it dearly."
The silverhaired elf nodded. "I don't mind in the least. It's refreshing to hear such passion untainted by shame. I was on my way to dine - I would very much like to hear more of your home."
Boromir nodded, then bowed slightly. "If you wish, my lord. Allow me to drop my things at the camp?" He held up his bag and mail shirt.
Celeborn nodded. "I will meet you there shortly." Smiling, he turned and walked into the woods.
Barely believing the encounter, Boromir returned to the camp and deposited his pack and shirt. A moment later, he saw Celeborn approach and stood to greet him. Hearing the others murmur, Boromir followed Celeborn through the trees.
Celeborn guided Boromir through the woods to his private dining area. "Sit, please." Celeborn gestured and seated himself. The elf who served them seemed to make no notice of the fact that the lord of Lorien was dining with a mere mortal.
As they ate, they talked, discussing many things. Eventually the conversation turned to soldering, and they compared the methods of their various cultures.
"I have seen your kind in battle," Boromir said. "And in Imladris, I saw Elves at rest," Boromir noted Celeborn's faint nod of approval of his use of the proper name for Lord Elrond's home. "I wonder, when at war, but not at battle, how do you pass the time?"
"Much as Men do, I imagine. We have our games and stories, some practice their weaponry." Celeborn was hesitant to mention the other favored way of passing time between fights, lest he offend the man of whom he was growing increasingly fond.
Boromir nodded in agreement as Celeborn spoke. "Games and stories, yes. Weapons ... And other things." Boromir too, held back, uncertain of the elf view of battlemates and passion born of war and boredom.
"What other things?" Celeborn sipped his wine as he waited for an answer.
Looking in Celeborn's direction, but not quite at the Lord, Boromir spoke slowly. "Some men find the best way of passing the time to be in the bed of another - A camp follower sometimes. Though more often is it easier to find true comfort in the bed of another who understands."
"A fellow soldier," Celeborn said softly, smiling.
"Yes, a fellow solder." Boromir turned his head and their eyes met for a moment. An understanding passed between them, having nothing to do with men or elves or rings of power.
They finished the meal in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. When the meal was finished, Boromir stood. "Thank you, my lord. A better meal I have not eaten since I left home."
Celeborn stood and smiled in return. "Knowing how you regard your home, I will take that as a compliment."
Boromir nodded. "I'll take my leave now, you no doubt have other things to tend to, and I've kept too much of your time. And my companions are no doubt wondering what I've been doing for so long."
Nodding, Celeborn called the serving elf and told him to take Boromir back to the camp. "We will talk later, Boromir."
"I look forward to it, my Lord." Boromir nodded and turned to follow the elf through the woods.
======================================
"A moment of joy in a lifetime of sorrow - Take it, while you can." -- Londo Mollari, Babylon 5
Settling on the cot provided him by the elves, Boromir's mind drifted back over the past few days. Celeborn was not what Aragorn had given them to expect. He had warned them that the Lord of Lorien was nearly a recluse, not entirely welcoming of those from outside - particularly those not of Elvenkind. To Boromir at least, the Elf lord had proven to be anything but cold, aloof, and unwelcoming. Thinking of their conversation earlier, Boromir wondered what the elf had meant - If there had been some message Boromir hadn't gotten from Celeborn's words.
Sliding his pipe from its loop on his belt, his other hand drifted to his tobacco pouch. Finding only air, he looked down to see that the dark red bag was gone, leaving only a bit of frayed cord.
Swearing, he stood, wondering where it could have fallen off. He'd had it at the pool, and he remembered its familiar weight when he'd returned, and on he path towards the meal with Celeborn. Thinking back, he didn't remember it on his return trip, so it must be somewhere on the trail.
Thanking the brightness of Elven stars, Boromir tried to find his way back to where he had dined. Elven stars - Odd he thought of them that way, since they were the same stars that lit the nights of Minas Tirith. But Lorien made everything seem ... Different. The stars here weren't quite the same as the ones home - Here they seemed brighter, and somehow both newer and older. It was as though the sky itself had stopped in time, as had the land, freezing the stars in their ancient state - brighter and newer than today, and placed slightly differently. If Boromir had not studied them so often from the battlements of the White City, he would not have noticed the difference now.
Picking his way carefully through the woods, Boromir desperately hoped he wasn't getting as lost as he felt. Seeing the vaguely familiar outline of a table and two chairs, Boromir approached cautiously, aware that guards might be stationed. When no arrows pricked his skin, Boromir sighed with relief and approached more quickly. Clouds had formed, cutting off most of the lights. The trees themselves seemed to have an eerie glow, but it didn't reach the ground where he searched. Kneeling, he felt the ground, hoping to find his bag.
After searching for several minutes, Boromir stood, frowning as he was still empty handed. Turning, he grunted as he impacted a body, and tumbled to the ground. He found himself laying half on, half off Lord Celeborn. He was still for a moment, gathering his bearings. He felt a firm, well muscled body under his, finding himself inordinately pleased. Realizing he had no good reason to be lying on the Lord of Lothlorien, Boromir stood quickly, offering a hand to Celeborn.
Gripping the man's wrist firmly, Celeborn pulled himself up, their bodies brushing as he leaned against Boromir for a second, regaining his balance. The clouds had thickened, and Boromir could barely see the face of the elf before him. "I trust you were looking for this," Celeborn's voice came from the darkness. Boromir felt something soft being pressed into his free hand. It felt like a pouch of tobacco, but the leather was too smooth, to new to be the one he'd lost. "I had the bag replaced," Was Celeborn's face closer, or was the darkness sharpening Boromir's hearing. "The cord broke, so I did not think you would object to a new bag."
"Not at all," Boromir replied quietly. "Thank you." Reluctantly, he released the elf's arm, feeling the grip on his own linger a moment longer before Celeborn dropped his arm. Sensing that the elf hadn't moved, but unable to see him, Boromir hesitantly reached a hand out. His suspicion was confirmed when his fingers brushed impossibly soft cloth mere inches from his own body.
"I've been thinking of our earlier conversation, Boromir," Celeborn's voice seemed almost disembodied, and Boromir realized he was almost blind in the near darkness.
"As have I, Lord Celeborn," Boromir confessed, his stomach clenching as he anticipated where Celeborn was going.
He gasped when fingers found his lips. "Not Lord, Boromir. We are soldiers, are we not?"
Boromir nodded, and pursed his lips slightly, kissing the fingers laid across them. His heart thudded in his chest, his pulse throbbing in his ears and other places. He swallowed when the fingers were lifted. Opening his mouth to take his leave before he embarrassed himself, Boromir felt soft lips on his. Barely a kiss, the contact was over almost before it began, yet it left Boromir panting. The next was more definitely a kiss, and Boromir slid an arm around the waist of the firm Elven body before him. With the third kiss, strong arms encircled the man, and both parted with heavy breaths.
"Soldiers," came the Elvish whisper in Boromir's ear, almost a question.
Nodding in answer, Boromir replied "Soldiers."
Celeborn stepped away, and Boromir couldn't feel him, even reaching his arm to full length. Blinking, he looked up, barely making out the outline of black trees on slightly less than black clouded sky. Even the trees had stopped their faint glowing. Perhaps they needed the stars? He started when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. "I forget, you cannot see in the dark," Celeborn's breath grazed Boromir's ear, and the man nodded. The hand drifted from his shoulder down to his hand, fingers curling, then tugging as Celeborn stepped away. "Come with me."
Boromir followed the voice, letting the hand guide him through the darkness. He knew he should have been worried, but he was able to make out enough that he didn't fear for his sight. Finally he heard a door open, and was guided inside. His eyes almost hurt as Celeborn lit a few candles. Though still dim, the room was at least bright enough for Boromir to make out the other occupant.
Searching for something appropriate to say, Boromir's quest ended when Celeborn kissed him once again. Not so unprepared this time, Boromir returned the kiss, his hands exploring Celeborn's body under his robes. When he tried to find the ties, Celeborn stepped back. In the dimness, he could see the elf was stripping, and followed suit.
When the kissed again, both were naked, solid bodies pressing together. Soft moans escaped from parted lips as hands caressed all available flesh. Celeborn moved then sideways a few steps and Boromir found himself on a soft bed on his side. Legs entwined, and Boromir's hand drifted down, encircling hard Elven flesh. His own arousal was pressed against Celeborn's thigh, and each thrust felt almost as though he were buried within a willing body. Boromir felt hands on his back and sides, down to caress his buttocks. Silken hair caressed the man's skin as Celeborn's lips grazed his neck and shoulder.
Celeborn's lips met his again, and Boromir tightened his fingers. When the kiss ended, Boromir was panting, hearing the elf groan against his skin. Long arms wrapped around Boromir, and Celeborn began to thrust into the man's hand. Sensing the elf was near, Boromir moved as well, the elf's heated body providing enough simulation that when he felt Celeborn's seed on his skin, he found his own release, their bodies shuddering together.
After a moment, their limbs untangled and they lay contentedly side by side. Neither spoke, for no words were needed.
