An elbow to the stomach does not lighten one's spirits, but in this case neither did it dampen Boromir's. The Lord of Gondor merely chuckled and kept at what he was doing, knowing Haldir would say nothing. He liked Galadriel, he decided, reflecting on her pretty smile and those starry eyes so full of wisdom and mischief as she directed Haldir and Boromir to the same boat. What she had in mind or why she would care about such a thing as their game, Boromir did not know, but was thankful he stood in her favor in this.
Together they sat now in close, cramped quarters on this small boat, traveling the waters of the Great River away from Lorien, one thoroughly amused and the other quite irritated. Thank the Valar for small mercies, for their vessel was last in line and that fact gave the Gondorian leave to play a little in secret.
He was feeling much refreshed now that they were on the quest again. His cares had little leave to trouble him with this vision of beauty sitting before him, hands occupied by oars. The temptations were numerous in the possibilities offered, for there was little the Elf could do to deter Boromir's attentions. And he would say nothing, for not far before them was the boat bearing Legolas and Gimli and without doubt the Wood Elf would hear any utterance the Marchwarden made. Presumably that bothered Haldir, for through several 'accidental' touches and some blatantly obvious, he continued to stay silent, offering protests through physical contact.
Boromir laid his hand on the hip of Haldir and gave a suggestive little rub, knowing full well what it would do to him. Over the course of the past hour he had learned Haldir's most sensually favored places--hips, the back of his neck and what little Boromir could reach of his thigh. Each place when touched elicited some form of aggravated movement and sometimes this vision of beauty's struggle with anger moved the human to mercy, to his credit. There were short periods of rest where he neither touched nor teased the Marchwarden. Yet inevitably and regrettably so, Boromir could not keep his hands to himself in the end.
The Elf's huntwear was entirely too thick, he noticed and sighed as he pet the man in front of him with no hint of irritation on the other's behalf. That was another thing he noticed. Haldir wasn't always quick to protest and perhaps that above all was what kept Boromir playing. Oh, would that he could be touching the flesh of his side bare, but the Marchwarden had taken care to be seated on his tunic to prevent it from being raised, as if he had foreseen such a need.
But when Boromir finally did uncover this man and savor him, he held little doubt it would be worth the wait. Temptations to whisper sensual promises met his lips every so often, but he respected Haldir's want of privacy and said nothing. Besides, what better way to convey his intent than this? The Gondorian leaned close against the back of the Marchwarden and breathed the scent of his hair, then moved close to kiss those beckoning strands.
Haldir pulled away and let go of an oar just long enough to slam his fist into Boromir's unsuspecting hand still petting a warmly clad hip. "Do you mind, you filthy human?" he hissed, taking up his rowing again.
Boromir caught sight of Legolas turning his head just enough for a curious glance back at the fighting duo. What would the Wood Elf assume? Would he defend Haldir's honor if the Marchwarden spoke against him? "My apologies," he replied in a husky tone, unable to contain his winsome mood despite even that threat. "The boat is small. I do not mean to intrude."
The Elf grunted and yanked his oar back, then shoved it forward again roughly. In a lowered voice, he muttered so softly Boromir scarcely heard it, "You just wait."
Grinning, the Man slid his hand up the green cloak Haldir wore and pressed his hand against a strong back beneath, kneading and massaging. "What was that, Elf?" He chuckled when the only reply offered was a frustrated sigh. Still, he decided to let up on his conquest. One thing he did not want to do was aggravate the other into hatred. His last move was to draw Haldir's golden mane away from one shoulder and gather it to the other side, and only then did Boromir give up and lean back on his hands. "Speak to me, Haldir," he breathed, tracing the Elf's neckline with half-lidded, hazel eyes.
"Of what would you have me speak?" Haldir replied in a curt tone. "Must I do all the rowing and entertain you now as well?"
This would never do. Ever since his Lady's unsuspected announcement Haldir had been very cool towards him and seemingly disinterested, but instead of taking that as defeat Boromir had thought this a sign he was closer than ever to the victory. It wasn't mere disinterest the Marchwarden displayed. He was skittish like a cat trapped in a corner, nervous he would be bested. That was what kept Boromir trying and what made him want to calm the creature he had cornered. He leaned against the Elf and gently clasped the other's hands on the oars, whispering softly, "I will row."
Haldir's hands seemed to tremble beneath the hold and his retreat was slow as he allowed the Man to take up the work. Still, he remained silent and that bothered Boromir. Perhaps, he thought, he had gone too far. "Must you hate me so?" he asked, groaning with a pull of the oars.
The Elf let out an exhale of his own and turned his head slightly to look back. His expression was weary, but bore no resentment and that encouraged the Lord of Gondor. "I do not hate you, Boromir. Forgive my harsh tone. I merely..." He stopped and faced front again, his movement speaking images of eyes that surveyed their dimming surroundings.
"Have no worry, Marchwarden. All is forgiven." A smile spread across his lips at the other's grunt.
Still, Haldir made no biting remark and offered a return of that expression when he looked back. "Arrogant," he accused lightly, shaking his head and causing those blonde strands of starlight to shiver. "Arrogant and prideful, even when making amends. You would place the blame solely on my own shoulders, would you not? I should bind you to this boat and let you sail thus through course waters until you learn some manners."
Boromir laughed at that and yanked the oars back again. "I am sorry if I have offended you. You may bind me if you wish, though I would prefer it to be elsewhere than this canoe, if you would spare me such care. I have no desire to see the bottom of the falls in such a manner. Do you forgive me?"
The Marchwarden swept his hair back and leaned on his hands, replying quite seriously, "Not yet, Boromir." At the Gondorian's intake of breath, he added, "I will forgive you. Worry not of that. Elves are very a forgiving people. But I will need time. Be sure to mind your manners, Boromir, or it will take longer."
A strange response, but to him Elves were a myriad of oddity. "So be it," he answered, furrowing his brow and looking at the water ahead.
But there was little time for him to ponder the reasons why forgiveness could not be given right away. From ahead Aragorn called, "We will halt for the night."
The boats were directed by the Ranger to a small shore nearby and Haldir left him to the duty of seeing their canoe secured, wandering off in the fading light to where Aragorn worked the same task. Boromir followed him with curious eyes, watching the Marchwarden and Ranger speak and wondering what their traded words would be about.
Something else caught his attention, however, before he could concentrate enough on their body language to form an opinion. Walking from Aragorn's canoe was Frodo and without thinking, Boromir's eyes left Haldir. The little Hobbit walked unassumingly with his loyal servant in his shadow and the expression written in his blue eyes was ever the same as it had been since Gandalf's departure. The Lord of Gondor's mind wandered between two things that held him captive with powerful hands and he wanted to heed the wisdom of Aragorn, but he could not shake the call of the Ring easily. It spoke to him constantly in a voice that had no tangible sound, always reminding him that his people were in a state of hopelessness and with this small token he could mend the wounds.
He knew the others watched him and possibly thought him a threat. They made him feel almost wrong for wanting to do what he thought best for Gondor, but could they not see who he truly was? He was no power mongering evil. Was it counted a sin to want to turn this war around? They sat protected in their homes in trees, or beneath their mountains or in their Shire, but he faced the evils of Mordor up close, every day and had since his ability to wield a sword. He saw the bodies of children that had wandered too far east. The visions of warriors mangled by Orcs were his to cherish. He hated Sauron and all of his mad servants, he hated Mordor and its perils and he hated being held back from conquering this evil. Take the Ring. That was all he had to do. Reach out, take it and end this terrible war.
Boromir let out a shuddering breath and tore his eyes away from the Hobbit, feeling himself becoming too restless. Such impetuous feelings took away from one's ability to think things through logically. There was a reason they wanted this quest done in this fashion. Elrond and Galadriel both were reputed to be wise and both spoke against using the Ring, and Gandalf made no arguments to that either. There was a reason to wait. A good, wise reason and Boromir would heed to it. It was no hard labor to wait. He would not let his despair control him.
Standing from the canoe and now thinking a little more clearly, he blinked once and looked back to the other phantom of his thoughts. Both Haldir and Aragorn were watching him, both weighing his expression with wary eyes. Somehow he felt he had disappointed them. The Marchwarden closed his long lashes upon his cheeks, his hair moving fairly with the wind, and whispered something to Aragorn in that cursedly unknown to Boromir tongue of his. The Ranger shook his head and replied something in earnest, then Haldir looked up again gravely.
Something in Boromir did not take well to being under such scrutiny. He had done nothing but lost himself to thought. Was he not a Lord of Gondor? Did he not act honorably at all times? Such insults to his character grieved his heart and stirred him to temper against Elves, for it was they that distrusted humans. It was they that had raised Aragorn against his own kind. It was by their counsel he could not do what he thought to be right for his people. Boromir glowered and turned, stalking off into the forest that surrounded the shore. Let them judge. He knew his own motives and trusted them to be forged by only the highest of integrity. He was a Son of Gondor and no less than that should be expected.
In his walking it was not long before his solace of solitude was intruded upon. Lost somewhere within the forest, for he had not been watching his way, Boromir stopped and put a hand to his sword. "Be at peace," called a voice, that belonging to Haldir. He came from behind, fading in from the shadows with concern glinting back from his blue eyes. Boromir let his sword go and crossed his arms, waiting for an arrogant remark. "You stand rigid. You are angry." The Marchwarden circled him gracefully, looking soft in the moonlight. "Boromir, in your pride you would turn away our concern which may be the only thing that saves you. Do not..."
"Concern?" Boromir cut in, trying not to watch the other's beauty too closely. He wanted to be angry and offended, he wanted to be separate from the others... It was the Ring that wanted this for him, but for all his heart he could not see it. "You needn't be. You all needn't fear me so. I am no common thief, nor would I do anything that was not in the best interest of this Fellowship. Yet you all watch me and doubt me until I begin even to doubt myself, and you..."
Haldir frowned and would have none of this speech. Fingers pressed into Boromir's lips, stopping his talk quickly and blue met hazel with firm command. "You speak these things from your own heart, not from any proof that we have such opinions. Quiet your mind. Do not let yourself be troubled so. I come not as an enemy or a judge. Do not let your arrogance blind you from the truth."
Boromir narrowed his brow and pushed the tempting fingers from his mouth. "You are full of many commands, you self-righteous..."
The hand met his lips again and Haldir shook his head with a long-suffering sigh. "You already have one penalty to pay to win my forgiveness. Will you indebt yourself to another?"
He was given no time to react. Boromir fell to the ground hard when the Marchwarden tripped him and quickly found the other straddling his lap with suddenly impassioned eyes. A milky pale hand rubbed through the hair on his face wantingly and Boromir felt his body responding to Haldir's touch. But his anger was no less. "Your forgiveness? Take yourself up from me, Elf!" he demanded, trying to block soothing hands away from him.
Haldir looked down in amusement, his eyes thoughtful and playful. "I seem to recall trying to convey that self same message to you, proud and fair Lord of Gondor. Let us see how well you take to having your wishes denied you." Hands slammed his wrists to the dirt and a hot mouth sealed itself to his as Haldir took full advantage of having the upper hand. "What you did to me in that boat was cruel. Now I shall repay in kind. You have not tasted my passion fully loosed yet," he hissed fervently, his lips seeking and taking wherever he would have.
"Get off of me," Boromir again breathed, though he could feel his vexation transforming into something else. With a growl of frustration at his inability to control his wants he shoved Haldir and rolled over in an attempt to get away.
But the Elf only laughed and moved to his feet, pouncing before Boromir could get away. The Lord of Gondor fell to the dirt beneath the other's weight and groaned at hands pawing through his auburn hair. Haldir straddled his back, holding his arms down with legs bearing his complete weight and brought his mouth close to the Gondorian's ear. "Did you not think I wanted you to win? Boromir, I had reasons which surpassed even those holding me back from taking Aragorn. Yet you torment in my agony and for reasons unknown my Queen has abandoned me to this." A tongue flicked over Boromir's ear, tasting the round shape as if that tongue took delight in the sensation it found. Boromir was actually liking this, he discovered, to his irritation.
Yet he would not be mocked this way. Beneath Haldir Boromir struggled, but found himself trapped in an iron hold and the Elf did nothing but continue to stir his arousal. "You say you have reasons and I say hold true to them, for you will not find me a willing partner."
Haldir paused and that was all he needed. The moment of weakness had come and Boromir wrenched himself away, watching the Marchwarden tumble to the earth. He got to his feet straightened his clothes, but would not run. He would not flee any Elf as if he could not hold his own. Haldir looked up breathlessly, his platinum hair in pleasing disarray, as he said, "Do you not want me, Boromir?"
"Aye," he answered truthfully, brushing a hand over his chin and pacing a few steps as he glared half-heartedly down. "But..."
The sudden loss of balance and the rushing impact to the ground made Boromir groan in dizziness and pain as the other lay over him again and found the buckle to his belt. "By your own lips you confess," Haldir whispered in triumph, seeking through layers of clothing until Boromir felt a hand rest on his bare stomach. "Forget your pride and give in to what you want."
As fingers traced the rim of his leggings Boromir found himself wanting to do just that beneath Haldir's heated gaze. He lay still, allowing sensation to ease away the last of the Ring's hold. A smile found his lips as he reached for the other's hair. Haldir's face reflected that in anticipation. It was the perfect opportunity.
Boromir took it and threw himself into the Elf, wrapping him in a cage of arms as he forced him to his back and began raining kisses onto his fair face. A dark little laugh came from the Marchwarden, who allowed him for the time being to enjoy his dominance, but Boromir was no fool. He could hear the intent behind such a laugh and knew it was only a matter of time before Haldir made his move to capture his human game. Well, they would have to see about that.
He had waited far too long for this, he decided, though a few days was but a moment to the man beneath him. Boromir found the bottom of Haldir's tunic and traveled up into the fabric, smoothing over warm flesh to cup on side of his chest. The Gondorian brushed heated fingers over the Marchwarden's nipple and smiled at the look of pleasure on the other's face. Haldir responded enthusiastically, his hands searching desperately for a way to open Boromir's pants. Boromir shook his head and wrapped his fingers around Haldir's wrist, finding the other and forcing his hands up and pinning them to the earth. "Slowly, Marchwarden. Slowly," he breathed huskily, meeting the other's mouth with the want of his own.
Boromir asked entrance and Haldir allowed it, opening his lips to the call of a slick tongue. The sweetness of the other's mouth caused the human to groan as he thrust his tongue into the heat, tasting and savoring the Elf's kiss as his free hand kneaded and groped beneath Haldir's tunic. All anger forgotten, Boromir was now thoroughly aroused and ready to forgive and be forgiven. But this would be handled with skill rather than giving in to the need for release. Stroking a hardened nipple the Gondorian had every intention of taking things slow, tormenting his lover with pleasure and enjoying every sensation lingeringly, but he was not fairing well in the idea of waiting.
Haldir had other plans. Though pinned in submission, the Elf would not give up trying to incite more active play and kicked Boromir's legs apart, quickly filling the space between his thighs with his own that he could rub and tease the human's growing erection. "Give me more, Boromir," he pleaded into a still searching mouth, struggling to get his wrists free.
"More?" he whispered against Haldir's lips, then offered a kiss as he freed one hand and ran it down the length of the Elf's arm, side, hip and finally to the thigh stroking his arousal. With a decidedly wicked little laugh Boromir shoved the leg down and apart from the other, then met Haldir's own desire with a seeking hand. "How easily do Elves give over to pleasure?" he mused, rubbing over the Marchwarden's hunting pants. The need within that strained fabric could plainly be felt.
The Marchwarden threw his head back quite prettily and Boromir took things a step further, seeking and hunting until he found the rim of the other's leggings. He gripped the pants, jerking and yanking, until they were pulled to Haldir's mid thigh, baring him before the human's eyes. But he did not touch him. Contenting himself to visual exploration of the flesh he would in no time capture with fervor, Boromir let the Elf suffer with need until finally Haldir asked in a smart tone, "You have seen the parts of a male before, have you not?"
The Lord of Gondor grinned and met demanding blue eyes. "Of course. I am merely enjoying the beautiful sight of a half-bare Elf in need of my touch."
"Hmm. Really," Haldir mused. "For a moment I despaired, thinking you uncertain of what to do."
With that one free hand Boromir pushed the other's tunic up gently until his stomach was shown and began a slow, soft rubbing just above his conquest's need. "On the contrary, I know exactly what to do," he whispered, leaning into Haldir's face with a soft kiss. He could feel the Elf shaking as his hand made the descent and found his erection. The fondling was slow and sensual, teasing and Haldir writhed in need for more, trying to urge Boromir into faster movements. But the Lord of Gondor would not be swayed.
So the Elf took more desperate measures and took advantage of Boromir's attention to skill, yanking his arms free. "I need you now, Boromir," he hissed, finding the other's pants and pulling them down urgently. "Take me now."
The Gondorian was given no time to reply as a hand traveled through his hair, jerking him down to a crushing kiss and he felt his own need storming through his system. The explicit desire between them had built enough for him to go along with such a demand. The hand now rubbing at his groin stirred him into echoing such need.
Boromir forsook the lips of his lover to pull his leggings all the way off, kissing and tasting Haldir's long legs the journey down and up, then snaked his arm beneath the Elf's neck to brace him into unstoppable kisses. The heat between them was intense and the Gondorian found himself growing impatient with want. He could wait no longer and began seeking of his own erection to the liquid he was leaking in his need, covering his length for the entry. Then, snaking an arm beneath Haldir to give support to his waist, Boromir grinned into those hungry lips that bit at his and took his place between two pale, granite thighs. Haldir arched and groaned throatily as Boromir penetrated his waiting entrance slowly, savoring the union and causing the Elf torment.
When Haldir could think straight he peered up through desire filled eyes that gave the Gondorian sudden need to surge forward, winning a cry from the man beneath him. The Marchwarden arched again and grasped through the dirt and on up Boromir's hip, urging his companion down again before he could raise himself fully. "Shh, my Elf. Slowly."
"Fiend," Haldir hissed when his arm was thrown back to the ground and held. Boromir looked down on his fair conquest and felt compelled to run his hand down the other's face. Like a feline Haldir met that hand and rewarded his palm with a kiss before returning the caress. Boromir rubbed his cheek across the Elf's hand in kind and groaned when that touch became fierce. The Marchwarden crawled his fingers through auburn hair and pulled, need more of his lover's taste. It was a kiss Boromir wholly returned.
Haldir traveled down the length of his hair, seeking and finding the nape of the Man's neck to touch, sending little shivers through him as he moved over and within the moaning Elf. The sounds of Haldir and the sensation of this entire experience burned within him as an all-consuming fire. He knew not where this would lead either of them, nor if it would come again even, but it would be savored and cherished. This was no victory over Haldir as he may have strove for in the beginning of this game, or if it were, it was joined with a victory over him. And it did not shame him to think so.
Boromir pulled his lips from Haldir's and laid small kisses upon the Elf's smooth cheek down into his golden mane. It was soft to the touch, painted with dark specks of dirt and seemed to reflect the starlight. "Mine," he breathed into it, inhaling its woodsy scent as Haldir moved with him.
A hand tracing unknown patterns upon his naked skin increased his desire and with the knowledge that both he and the Elf were panting and groping towards bliss, Boromir cradled his arm beneath Haldir's neck and nuzzled against the soft skin there as he held the warrior-Elf down, forcing him to accept the slow pace. It tormented and vexed him to no end, but he would not give in to the want of a sudden finish. The pleasure ached, but inevitably would be more encompassing if waited for.
And it was. Haldir writhed beneath him, but was given no mercy until at last he was driven beyond the threshold of desire. When the Elf moaned and shuddered uncontrollably Boromir stopped holding him down and drank in every sound, movement and breath until he too could not contain himself. With a sudden jerk and a deep groan the Man filled his Elven companion with his seed and was quickly accepted into an embrace he was barely coherent enough to acknowledge beyond his own need to mold into the strong body below.
It was sweet insanity, now that he could awaken his senses to understand what had happened. The Fellowship was so near and the quest's true danger suddenly hit him as he rested his head against Haldir's shoulder. They could walk from this and find death at any moment. This was something he did not want to lose. Something he could not lose. "This is wrong," he breathed and gazed out at the greenery surrounding.
Haldir's pawing hand upon his head paused. "I beg your pardon?"
Boromir drew himself up and looked down through softened eyes. "Return to the Golden Wood where you belong. I know not how many years you have seen, but you belong there. Not on this...this...dark mission."
This drew a sultry smile from the satiated Elf below. Haldir reached for him again, touching his facial hair in absent fascination. "Do you care for me, Boromir of Gondor? Nothing you could say would ever cause me to abandon what my Lady bid of me to do, but...the thought that you care is flattering."
The young Gondorian narrowed his brow and kissed Haldir's wrist, muttering, "Flattering. Only you would allow such a thing to pass your lips after what I have given."
Haldir laughed lightly. "What you have given? And was it not you that swore to claim me?"
"You bewitched me," Boromir replied in a light-mannered accusation. He found Haldir's hair to touch. "You know what I feel."
The other's eyes grew serious and Boromir sighed at the beauty of those lids. Indeed he had been bewitched by some Elvish sorcery. "I am no mind-reader, as you may think, Boromir. I know not all that lies within your heart. I can but guess." He let out a breath as clear and soft as the Heavens. "Boromir...when I see you pass the test you will face, then I shall know what you feel. Not before. Now let us lay in quiet." His head was drawn down again. "The Ranger has finally left us to our privacy."
Boromir lifted his head. "What?"
tbc...
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