Another flash of unearthly white light pierced the night sky, casting the stables into a brief brightness that blinded the eye. A loud roaring wave rumbled across the yard not even a second later, rattling the rafters and sending renewed shockwaves of fear through the yearling. Aragorn did not need his sight to tell the young horse's agitation was growing. He pitched his voice even lower, his words an odd mix of Sindarin, Rohirric and the common speech, an amalgam of languages he often subconsciously slipped into in his mind and occasionally verbalized in his most private moments. He kept his hands steady and firm along the horse's neck and flank, willing the tremors to subside beneath his palms.
This was the first storm to hit Minas Tirith since the animal arrived and Aragorn suspected this may be the first it had encountered away from its dam and the comfort of the stables in which it had been born. …omer had given him the animal, a foal sired by an offspring of Snowmane, Théoden's great steed, and Aragorn could see the strength and speed in the horse's young frame. They'd named him Déorwine after the great knight who had fallen on the Pelennor, and Aragorn had taken a special interest in his care, so pleased was he with the thoughtful gift.
He knew the head groom did not understand why a king would involve himself in this way. In fact, Aragorn was certain the man did not approve of his being here at all. But he'd found it was one of the perks of being King: he could do a great deal of the "less noble" work that pleased him and most would simply bow their heads and accommodate him. Only Boromir ever questioned him - good-naturedly and never in public - but if he was found occupying himself with a chore usually reserved for one of the staff Aragorn knew later that day he could expect the challenge. If he were honest he welcomed it, and he suspected Boromir quietly enjoyed knowing he wasn't above getting his hands dirty or filling more menial roles if the help was needed.
As if on cue, Aragorn could sense he and the horse were being watched, a methodically focused gaze he knew at once was Boromir. The yearling seemed to sense it too, as the presence of the second man seemed to slightly ease some of the tension in his muscles. Lightning briefly lit the enclosure and Aragorn wondered what Boromir was thinking, standing in the shadows, observing his ministrations. The clap of thunder followed much later this time; the storm was passing and soon he would not be needed here. Yet he had the feeling his night was far from over.
Boromir stood just outside the stall doors, the scene before him both intriguing and troubling to his mind. He always found it interesting how often Aragorn chose to take on the duties of his staff and sergeants, was heartened to see how much more at peace he seemed when he let the mantle of the throne slip slightly from his shoulders. Yet watching him tend to the horse unnerved Boromir; Aragorn's tone and movements, even the odd mix of languages, were somehow too familiar for comfort.
The wind shifted, sending the rain to beat even louder against the north wall of the stables, but despite the darkness and the roar of the storm Boromir knew his presence was known. Aragorn's senses were too finely tuned for a man standing just out of sight to remain unnoticed. Once his eyes readjusted to the dark after the last blaze of lightning, Boromir stepped forward into the stall.
"A horse who scares that easily will likely never be fit for battle," he remarked, his words harsh but his voice soft and calming.
Aragorn did not turn but listened carefully, hoping to garner some deeper understanding to what Boromir was saying. "You might be surprised," he slowly replied. "I've heard that Firefoot is still afraid of thunder and …omer must sleep in his stall with him on particularly tempestuous nights."
Boromir's full-bodied laugh slightly startled the horse, and he quickly tamped it down. "Sounds to me like …owyn has been telling tales out of school."
Aragorn finally looked at Boromir, a quick glance but with a smile brightening his face. "More than likely. Yet I also remember a young boy in this very city, one of high birth no less, who was terrified of storms, particularly lightning, and needed much coaxing to come out of his hiding place in the root cellar one night."
"That is an elaborate story."
"But quite true, nonetheless. This young boy grew up to be a great warrior and Captain of his people."
Boromir moved closer, leaving but a hair's breadth between them. "I trust you know it would be wise not to share such tales, my lord."
Aragorn huffed out a quiet laugh, enjoying the slight rumbling menace in Boromir's voice. "Hush, you'll spook the horse."
"He seems at much greater ease."
Aragorn had to agree; the worst was definitely over. With the storm quieting outside and having both men by his side, the young horse had begun to settle. Aragorn gave him one final pat as the yearling began to nibble at some hay, then ushered Boromir out of the stall.
"With proper care and training he'll become as great a war horse as his grand sire."
Boromir's doubtful sniff in answer made Aragorn frown. "But that's not your real concern," he continued.
It was more of a statement than a question, and Boromir rankled slightly to be so transparent to this man. He stood for a moment, arms crossed, staring at cracks in the wood along the far wall. Finally he turned toward Aragorn, something akin to anger in his stance.
"How you were with Déorwine - the way you spoke to him, the way you handled him – it's how you are with me..." he paused for a moment, wrestling with his words, "after."
Aragorn cocked his head slightly, trying to read between the lines. He stepped into Boromir's space and pitched his voice to just above a whisper. "You mean after I've restrained you, after I've finally earned your submission?"
Boromir quickly looked around them, hoping not to find any prying eyes in the shadows. Aragorn took advantage of the distraction and forcefully backed Boromir into the next stall, pushing him hard against the far wall. He knew that if not for the newly calm horse next door and the possible arrival of a groom or stable boy Boromir would have had much more fight in him. Yet he could see the mental struggle in Boromir's eyes as he pinned him to the wall.
"What exactly are you upset about, Boromir?" There was a hint of command beneath the low growl in Aragorn's voice, and despite his annoyance Boromir couldn't help responding to it, his body pressing for more contact even as he struggled beneath Aragorn's hands.
"I don't like being treated like an animal," he hissed through clenched teeth, at once feeling the full force of the shame that pricked him when he first started watching Aragorn and the young horse.
Aragorn locked his eyes with Boromir, seeing the weight of the emotions more clearly than he heard the words. He slightly relaxed his stance, and noticed with satisfaction that Boromir did not push his way free. "It was unconscious; I didn't realize I was doing anything similar."
Boromir nodded but tensed his body as if to fight, making Aragorn match his force.
Aragorn couldn't hide the smile in his eyes. "I promise I'll alter my actions, but whether I'll change how I am with you or how I treat nervous horses I cannot say."
He watched as Boromir's expression slightly shifted, the touch of humiliation dissipating.
"I'd rather you change how you are with horses," Boromir mumbled, shoving hard and nearly knocking Aragorn off his feet.
Aragorn wrestled him back to the wall, levering his arm across Boromir's throat, lusting after the flames burning in his eyes. "Done. I'll find another way to calm animals." He shoved his thigh between Boromir's legs and bit back a moan at the answering hardness. "Now let's see if I can tame this beast."
Summary: This is post-Ring war with miraculously undead Boromir
Rated: PG-13
Categories: LOTR FPS Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 1390 Read: 590
Published: 01 Mar 2012 Updated: 01 Mar 2012