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Summary: Boromir finds himself in a tight spot

Rated: G

Categories: LOTR FPS Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir

Warnings: None

Challenges:

Series: None

Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes

Word count: 706 Read: 569

Published: 03 Sep 2011 Updated: 03 Sep 2011

Story Notes:
DISCLAIMER: "These characters originate with their copyright holders. I borrow them for entertainment, not profit."
There were few occasions when Boromir had seen his love lost for words, so that this was a moment to savour

The business of formal visits by neighbouring rulers, their envoys and trade delegations would have proved burdensome if the Lord Steward had not decided to muster his office like an army, following protocols, honing ceremonies and always, minding the details that would make each visiting party certain that their interests were to the fore.

In particular, details were kept of official gifts offered which re-appeared tastefully on view at the next occasion of a visit. Gifts of jewelled trinkets or rich cloths to the Queen were easily dealt with, likewise hawks, hounds or horses gifted the King were paraded and praised.

Other tokens were less readily accounted for; the stuffed oliphant, a parting gift from an ambassador, was too distracting to remain in the council chamber, too large to fit easily into a store room and took a company of men to shift. It was just like the man, thought Boromir, to gift them a white oliphant; however, more often gifts reflected a nation’s trade or history and canny envoys would include the Lord Steward in the list of recipients in the hopes of gaining his undoubted influence with the King to their cause.

A party from Harad had arrived that morning and their previous tokens had duly been much in evidence. This was a minor province anxious to rebuild by trading on their past history as workers in fine leathers and it had been no hardship at all for the Queen to praise the soft slippers they had gifted her and which she had all but worn out. Their leader had beamed and proffered her a hanging purse in delicate cut-work and at her gentle protestations had assured her that it was their pleasure to find small tokens of their respect that would show her their best.

The King had been wearing the belt, embossed with vines, which was noted although they did not presume to make enquiry, it was enough that Elessar was seen to acknowledge their skill; however, the envoy had no such compunction in the case of the Lord Steward, catching his eye as they waited for the remove of the fish course at the banquet that evening and leaning across to smile and joke with him that he had managed the thing after all!

On the previous occasion they had prided themselves on a coup in obtaining an imprint of the Lord Boromir’s shoes and had gifted him with a set of leather boots that fitted close and to the top of his thigh. The pattern, unique to their town, was originally meant for riding and it was thought that the better the fit the more they would resemble a second skin.

At their last visit, Boromir had spent a good hour trying to put them on, stripping down to his hose, whilst his secretary had suggested a dusting of powdered chalk and the smiling envoy had recounted his sire’s struggles with a similar pair only resolved by a copious use of fish oil.

His assurances then that the smell faded with time did not reassure and the King had been genuinely startled to see his Steward appear that morning sporting the long boots, a short tunic and a small smile. The envoy and his party had applauded him whereupon the Lord Steward had bowed graciously, made a brisk pivot on the red heels, and led the way in to the palace.

He had to admit, Boromir thought, they were exceedingly comfortable once on and at this precise moment, in coming off again, there was the added bonus of the light kindling in the King’s eye.

Slumped back against the pillows of his bed, Boromir had graciously accepted Aragorn’s offer to help him with them and then, as Aragorn had clasped at toe and heel, prepared to haul away, had thoroughly enjoyed his notable silence as the boot easily slid free.

Just now Aragorn, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, seemed to have forgot how to breathe and Boromir was doubly glad that he had followed Arwen’s suggestion and worn the silk stockings.