Aragorn. All he could think of was Aragorn. When he was walking the trail, all he could think of was Aragorn so close behind him, but so far away. It wasn't love, it couldn't be love. Attraction. It could be nothing more.

Boromir shifted restlessly. He could almost feel the eyes of the elf upon him, boring into him. The elf didn't trust him. None of them trusted him. Not even his king...

'NO!' Boromir told himself angrily. 'I won't go there tonight. Not now.' He had visited it too many times, the look on Aragorn's face, the way his hand had rested on Anduril. Aragorn would have drawn on him. All over a midget the size of a five year old boy who couldn't even fight.

"Why do you torment yourself like this?"

A whisper on the wind. Boromir would have smiled, if he wasn't certain he was dreaming. Indeed, why *did* he torment himself like this? Why was he so obsessed with the remnant of kings? And why, oh why, did the voices in his head sound like Aragorn?

"You should rest, son of Denethor. You have a long journey ahead of you."

This time Boromir did smile. "You sound like the Ring, Aragorn," he whispered.

"There is a good reason for that. And I am not Aragorn, though I do admit to taking his form every so often. It is so pleasing to look upon, is it not?"

Boromir was content to play along with whatever game his delusions played with him, but... "I don't understand, Aragorn."

"Wake up, Boromir. You aren't dreaming."

Boromir complied, lifting one eye slowly, and then the other. A dark shape crouched before him, like a bird about to take flight. A dark shape that did indeed look like Aragorn, though it wore no sword or jewel. "Who are you?" Boromir demanded, reaching for his sword. A hand on his stopped him.

"Many call me Lucifer, though I have many other names. Prince of Lies, of Darkness. First of the Fallen. Gatekeeper of Hell. But just call me Lucifer."

"Those are auspicious names, Lord Lucifer."

"Just Lucifer. Where I come from, there is only one Lord, and he does not share power."

"You sound bitter."

Lucifer threw his head back and laughed. "Why do you still delude yourself that you are dreaming?"

"Am I not? Is this truly not a dream? I cannot see the Fellowship around, and I know this racket we are causing would surely have brought the elf."

Lucifer was silent for a long time. "Perhaps this is a dream," he allowed. "Though I would like to think that this is more a lost chance. Both for me, and for you." He raised a hand to forestall Boromir's objections. "I loved once. You love currently. Your lover has not yet pushed you away - though he will - and I have not been allowed before my love for millennia."

"'Millennia'", Boromir tasted the word carefully. "Are you an elf, then?"

"No, son of man. I'm an angel, was an angel. I keep forgetting that you do not have Heaven and Hell here. Then again, why should you? Jehovah has not seen fit to supply them here."

"Jehovah? Your Lord?"

"Yes. Jehovah. All powerful. All mighty. I love him, though I hate him. He pushed me away, much like Aragorn will do to you. Did you really think he would forsake his elven lady to be with *you*?"

"I had hoped." And, until he admitted that, Boromir hadn't known. Amazing what a mouth will say before a mind can stop it.

"Hopes are futile, son of man. Shall I bring you up to the highest peak? Mount Carmel is nowhere to be found, though I think Caradhras would do nicely."

"Speak plainly, if you will speak at all."

"So eager to return to your tortured dreams? Ah, but they will not last long. You will die on this journey, Boromir of Gondor."

"It matters not. Aragorn will survive."

"But what would you say if I told you that Aragorn will not take the crown? That he will die on this journey instead of you? I know his heart, I have seen his dreams. He wants to protect you, though I can hardly see why. I suppose he feels honor-bound to take those three Orc arrows for you. Yes, that is how you will die. But, fear not, you will be shot in the chest. A true warrior's death. Let not your enemy see your back."

"Do not mock what you do not understand. You have said that you are not a man, and that you are not an elf. Speak plainly!"

"I am the Devil. I am the tempter of mankind."

"Each man is his own tempter."

"I'm sure your father would be proud that you remembered his lesson. But going back to this lovely mountain we're on right now, would you like me to show you your kingdom?"

"You can show me Minas Tirith from here?"

"Well, yes, though that was not what I was speaking of. Ah well. Useless to hope that the New Testament would have made it here. I play a significant role in that piece of semi-fiction."

"Lucifer, you speak riddles. And your riddles are laden with poison."

"Boromir. I can offer you a choice. One man will die on this adventure. You or Aragorn."

"That is not a choice for men to make."

"Yet I am offering it to you. Do not disbelieve me, Boromir of Gondor. You can have the choice. Live, or die. Die, or have your king die in your stead."

"You claim to be the tempter of men. I cannot trust you, even if it was yourself who gave you that epithet, and no one else."

"Oh, my intentions aren't pure. But, then again, no one's ever are."

"You speak of a price."

"My price is a night." At Boromir's intake of breath, Lucifer leaned in closer, and Boromir could swear he felt a glimpse of foul smelling breath on his cheek. "You see, son of Denethor, you look like Jehovah. I have styled myself to look like Aragorn. Shall we exchange passion?"

Boromir stood quickly, his head reeling. He turned around and around in circles, trying to see the shape that was taunting him. "Where? Don't hide from me!"

'You chose to wake up, Boromir.'

The whisper on the wind again. Boromir paled. Had he made his choice and did not realize...? "No, please."

'You chose to wake up. You chose to end the dream.'

A night. A night with Lucifer, payment for his life. And the only night, if what Lucifer had said was true, that he could have with Aragorn. "Please..."

'No, son of man. Even I cannot tempt those that have shunned me.'

"I'm a masochist, aren't I?" Boromir asked himself humorlessly, not caring that the elf heard. He did not expect, nor did he receive, any answer.