Boromir had seen Eomer wield the whip, one foot on the grass and the other on the cantle of his saddle, swinging the long lash around his head and over the body of the prone horse, then suddenly the air crackled and the thong came to rest wrapped harmlessly about his body.
He had mastered cracking the whip in an afternoon, but to aim for and hit something cleanly, to take a horse-fly from the rump of a beast and not set it running, to drop a kiss on his lover’s flesh and know it would land safely for both of them, was a skill he realised would take a lifetime of study.
“Three over, three under....four over, two under...three...”
“You’re muttering.”
They had been dozing in a patch of late Autumn sun, or at least Boromir had been dozing, his head resting in Aragorn’s lap. His love had been running his fingers gently through his hair which had lulled Boromir to rest. Now he realised that Aragorn seemed to be twisting his hair together.
“Three over...”
“What are you doing, love?”
Aragorn’s hands stilled suddenly and then he began to card his fingers through Boromir’s locks once again.
“Just a fancy,” he said.
Boromir was not deceived but knew better than to press and in time Aragorn had knelt and presented him with the finished whip, the thong, as long as a man could reach, plaited with silk cords, an inner core three-by-three and the outer ‘four over, two under’. The fall was of soft leather. There was not the weight in it to split the air, but as Aragorn pointed out it would not leave bruises either...and then he showed Boromir the little weights that could be threaded on and would assuredly mark him as his Steward’s own.
Summary: Aragorn improvises
Rated: PG-13
Categories: LOTR FPS Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 307 Read: 602
Published: 01 Dec 2011 Updated: 01 Dec 2011
Story Notes:
DISCLAIMER: "These characters originate with their copyright holders. I borrow them for entertainment, not profit."