Blissful Nights 1 Frodo/Boromir PG13
Title: Blissful Nights 1
Author: Claudia
Pairing: Frodo/Boromir
Rating: PG13
Summary: In Rivendell, Boromir and Frodo cannot deny an instant attraction.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no money from them. ANY reference to herbs or treatment is purely made up. I haven't a clue, so don't try it at home :).
Story notes: I am aware that the council of Elrond was right after Frodo woke from his injuries, but I’m making it later.
Frodo watched the large man ride into Rivendell and dismount from his horse. His large, muscular body was both fascinating and frightening, and Frodo felt at once breathless. He had not yet gotten used to interacting with Big People. He had traveled with Aragorn, but Aragorn was not typical. He was more Elven-or more appropriately, more similar to Gandalf. This man riding into town had exactly the look that Frodo had pictured when he thought about the Big People-intimidating and arrogant but full of muscular grace.
The man looked up suddenly, as if he sensed Frodo’s gaze. He lifted his hand in tentative greeting before striding away, leading his horse. Frodo hoped that he would show up for the feast that evening. His stomach rumbled with hunger. He had only been out of bed a few days. His appetite had returned with a vengeance.
“Hallo, Frodo.” Pippin squeezed his arm. “How are you feeling?”
“I couldn’t be better,” Frodo said.
“What were you looking at so intently just now?”
Frodo realized that he had a secret smile on his face. His cheeks grew warm.
“Oh, a man rode in just now. I was wondering who he was.”
“You can soon find out. I was sent to get you. Dinner is served, and several newcomers will be there. That man must be one of them.”
At the dinner, Frodo sat between Sam and Aragorn. He enjoyed the company of his friends very much, but he was distracted. He found that his eyes kept wandering across the table to the man who had captured his fascination. He couldn’t believe that the man had had such a strange effect on him in so short a time. His heart sped and slowed in strange rhythms.
“Excuse me,” Frodo said softly to Aragorn. “Who is that man? Is he from a distant land?”
Aragorn smiled softly. He cleared his throat to capture the attention of the man, who had been deep in contemplation.
“Excuse me, Boromir. I’d like to introduce you to someone.”
The man Boromir looked up from his meal. His eyes rested on Frodo. He seemed to notice him for the first time. His lips parted in curiosity.
“Boromir, this is Frodo Baggins. He came from the Shire, through many perils, of which you’ll learn during the council. Frodo, this is the son of the Steward of Gondor. He has come to learn more at Elrond’s council.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Boromir said with a soft smile. “I have never seen a halfling, though my brother used to tell me tales of little people who lived far to the north of us. That is where the Shire is, I would guess.”
“Yes,” Frodo answered. “And I, in turn, have not met many men. I’m glad to meet you.”
A tall elf bent over Boromir and whispered something in his ear. Boromir nodded. He turned to Frodo.
“Please excuse me. There is a matter I must attend to.”
The large man got up, pushed his chair in, and strode out of the room. Frodo stared after him, his cheeks red and hot. Boromir was a big man, but he moved with agility and grace. His huge hands were callused from a lifetime of wielding swords. His voice had been soft and courteous.
Frodo looked up to catch Aragorn smiling at him. Frodo glanced down at his food. He suddenly had no appetite. He was bitterly disappointed that Boromir had been called away before they could talk more.
“He’s a good man,” Aragorn murmured. “Trustworthy and brave.”
“Yes, it seems so,” Frodo answered.
“Frodo, you will be in Rivendell for several weeks before the council. I am quite certain you’ll have further opportunity to talk to Boromir.”
Frodo’s cheeks flamed. He had been too obvious. He wondered if Boromir had sensed his over-eagerness. Frodo would not be able to bear it if he had already made a mess of his potential friendship with the man.
Aragorn dropped his voice to a whisper.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said. “You would not be the first to fall for such a man.”
Frodo pushed his chair back. His humiliation was complete. He could not meet Aragorn’s gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he stammered. “Please excuse me.”
Frodo’s hobbit friends followed him out of the room.
“What is with you?” Merry asked. “Are you ill?”
“No,” Frodo said. “I just want to be alone for awhile.”
Pippin smiled knowingly.
“I think it has to do with a certain Gondorian who arrived in town today.”
“Does all of Rivendell know already?” Frodo said, his throat catching.
“No, only your dear friends.”
“What are you talking about?” Sam asked.
Frodo told him about how Boromir had ridden into Rivendell that day and the effect it had had upon him.
Frodo flushed again. Now that it was in the open, he found that he could more clearly define his feelings. He could admit to his friends and to himself that he had a sudden and violent crush on Boromir. He wanted to know more about him. He wanted to know everything about him. Most of all, he knew the next few weeks would be full of the distraction of trying to meet up with the young man.
“If he’s out and about dealing with business now,” Pippin said. “Then he’s not in his room.”
Pippin smiled mischievously. Merry punched his arm.
“I see what you’re getting at, cousin.”
“I don’t understand,” Frodo said with a puzzled frown.
“You Bagginses can be so dense sometimes,” Pippin said, shaking his head. Sam glared at him.
“What he means, dear Frodo,” Merry said. “Is that your fellow is not in his room. We can sneak in and you can find out more about him. You can find out if he has a sweetheart or-“
“No,” Frodo said, appalled. “I’m not going to sneak through his belongings!”
“You don’t have to go through his stuff,” Pippin shrugged. “But aren’t you be curious as to what his room looks like? His bed?”
Frodo flushed furiously.
“I should never have told you!”
But he was tempted. Pippin was right. There could be no harm in simply entering his room and smelling his scent, seeing what manner of pack he had or the swords he carried with him. His breath caught at the image of the powerful man wielding a sword nearly the length of Frodo’s body.
“All right,” he said quietly. “But if we get caught, I’ll blame it all on you.”
“That you may,” Pippin said.
“Mr. Frodo-“ Sam said, shaking his head. “I don’t know about this.”
Frodo put his arm around Sam’s shoulders. “It’s all right, Sam. You don’t have to go.”
“If you’re going, then I’m going.”
Frodo took a deep breath. Despite his initial annoyance at his younger friends, he felt a surge of excitement. He hadn’t done anything this mischievous since he had stolen mushrooms from Farmer Maggot’s field as a youngster. After the past dark weeks, it felt good to be a little youthful.
"Do you know where he sleeps?" Frodo asked as he followed his friends down a long, arched corridor. The steady chirp of crickets filled the silky night air. Frodo imagined being invited by Boromir to come to his room. The thought made him feel warm all over.
Pippin and Merry looked at each other, and Pippin winked.
"I made it a point to find out. I saw cousin Frodo with stars in his eyes at dinner, gazing at Boromir, that unmistakeable look of desire in those big blue eyes--"
"How could he resist, I wonder?" Merry asked.
"Stop, you two!" Frodo protested, turning red again. Had his feelings been so obvious to everyone at the feast?
"Anyway," Pippin said. He finished the apple he had been nibbling on and threw it into a nearby bin. "I asked around until I found out where he was staying. Just follow me."
Frodo's heart sped as they climbed a flight of stairs and entered a new corridor. He had explored the house of Elrond after he had first awakened, but he had never been in these quarters.
Pippin stood proudly in front of a huge door. Elvish runes curved around a gold knob. Frodo found himself blushing again. He had never fallen for anybody so violently before. A wave of dizzyness overcame him, and he clutched the knob.
"Are you sure we should do this?" he asked.
"He won't be back for hours," Merry said. "Any matter involving conversation with the elves is bound to take half the night."
"I still don't know," Sam muttered, shaking his head.
Pippin pushed open the door, and it swung open. The hobbits crept in. Frodo was amazed by the size of the room. His own quarters were huge, but the elves had kindly tried to give the hobbits the smallest rooms they could find in order to make it as home-like as possible. This room seemed the size of all of Bag End, if it were spread into one chamber.
A huge sword and round shield leaned against the wall. Frodo brushed his hand over the shield. It smelled like pinewood and leather. Frodo inhaled, imagining burying his face into Boromir's hair.
"What's this?" he heard Pippin ask in the background. Frodo saw that his young cousin had picked up several rings from the dresser.
"Oh, Pippin, be careful," Frodo said. "Those look quite valuable."
Frodo ran his hand on the hilt of the sword. He lifted it with both hands. He had been right in his earlier musings. The sword was nearly his height and extremely heavy. He could barely lift it. He curled both hands around the hilt and raised it from the ground. What strength Boromir must have in order to thrust through the air, to strike down his enemies! His own small hands felt soft and inadequate.
A loud voice at the door caused Frodo's heart to leap into his throat. He released Boromir's sword, and it fell to the floor with a huge clatter.
"What is going on here?"
Frodo stared up in dismay at the large man. He felt so ashamed. Sam cowered beside him, clutching his arm. Sam was trembling and Frodo felt rotten for dragging him into this situation. Sam had been terrified of the men in Bree, and had barely trusted Aragorn until the end of their desperate journey to Rivendell. And now here was this warrior from Gondor furious at them.
Merry and Pippin stood in place, fidgeting and looking very much like hobbit children who had been caught stealing mushrooms.
"I asked what's going on," Boromir took a threatening step into the room, causing the hobbits to flinch and move back. "Why are you going through my belongings?"
Frodo's throat filled. He had no excuse for the foolish way he and his friends had acted. He smarted inside, knowing that he had ruined any chance he might have to pursue the young Gondorian. Now the man no doubt would have the impression that hobbits were silly, mischievous children.
"We're very sorry," Pippin said in a small voice. Boromir wheeled to him in a fury. He raised his fisted hand, and Frodo gasped, wondering if the man would strike Pippin. Instead, Boromir shook his head, obviously disgusted. He took in a deep breath and unclenched his fist. His voice, which had been so beautiful at dinner, was low and threatening. His gray eyes glinted like iron.
"I did not know the halflings were so discourteous--now all of you--get out!"
Merry and Pippin fled the room immediately. Frodo felt rooted in place. He wanted to say something, to apologize for his shameful act. A lump filled his throat. Any chance he had ever had with the man was now gone forever.
Sam dragged Frodo out the door, glancing back in terror at the man glaring down at them. Frodo looked up, knowing his cheeks were red.
"I'm very sorry," he managed before Boromir slammed his door shut on their faces.
Frodo followed his friends numbly down the corridor until they were out of earshot.
"Oh, Sam!" he choked. "How could I have done that? I acted like a hobbit just into his tweens. Now he will never--he'll hate me now. I've lost my chance."
His shoulder ached, and he felt like fierce icy fingers were digging into it. He was weary. He just wanted to curl up in bed and not come out until the council.
"Mr. Frodo, it wasn't your fault. If you ask my opinion, it's Pippin that ought to have his bottom bruised. We should never have listened to him. Now, don't fret. I'll help you fix this. When this fine man hears about what you've gone through, he'll not let something this trivial get in the way--you'll see! Now let's get you to bed. You look right tired, Mr. Frodo."
Boromir breathed in the fresh morning air. Though it was late October, it felt like spring in Minis Tirith. The sweet fragrance of lilacs wafted under his nose. A silky warm breeze rustled his clothing, which seemed much too heavy for Rivendell's mild weather. He found Aragorn sitting on a carved chair on one of the many balconies. He was sipping tea, a faint smile of contentment on his face.
"Good morning, Aragorn," Boromir said, nodding. He had originally intended to keep walking in order to get something to eat, but instead he paused. He couldn't rid his mind of the vision of the beautiful dark-haired halfling he had met at the feast and his friends trespassing in his room two nights earlier.
"Morning, Boromir." Aragorn took in a sniff of the air. "A fine day it will be today--as is every day in Rivendell under this sun."
"That is true." Boromir leaned against the balcony. "Tell me, Aragorn. You traveled with the halflings, am I right?"
Aragorn gave him a strange, knowing smile that puzzled him.
"Yes, why do you ask?"
"I wonder. Is it the custom in the Shire to think nothing of rifling through the belongings of others?"
Aragorn's smile faded. "Not that I know of, Boromir, though certainly hobbits are much more open with each other than men. Did something happen?"
Boromir explained what happened when he came back to his room and found the four hobbits going through his belongings.
"It's not that I have anything to hide, Aragorn, but it is the principle of the matter. I nearly spoke to Elrond about it, but I decided that I gave them enough of a scare."
"All four of them, you say?"
"There were four."
"Frodo was there?" Aragorn said in disbelief.
"Frodo?" Boromir looked confused.
"The halfling I introduced you to at the feast."
"Ah, yes," Boromir said with a faint smile. He remembered thinking that the halfling looked more like an elf with his soft, flawless skin and huge blue eyes. "Yes, Frodo was there, too."
"I don't understand it," Aragorn said, shaking his head. "I understand the two younger hobbits--they are but like teenagers among our own kind. And Sam, he would follow Frodo anywhere. But Frodo is so serious and intelligent--much like his uncle--and he's gone through so much. I'm just surprised he was involved in such mischief. Though he was quite curious about you."
Boromir shook his head. "If he was before, I don't think so anymore. I saw him in the corridor yesterday. He fled to get out of my way. Perhaps I overreacted when I found them in my room. Frodo was curious about me, you say?"
"If I know Frodo," Aragorn said. "I would say he's deeply embarrassed by what happened."
Boromir felt an unexpected shudder of warmth under his skin as he remembered the hobbit's flushed face. He wondered what it would be like to stroke that cheek. He wondered how it would feel to sink his lips into Frodo's moist bow-shaped lips. He flushed. What he was thinking was proposterous. He was a warrior on a mission. The last thing he needed was to fall for a helpless, silly halfling.
***
Frodo wandered around the grounds of Elrond's house, avoiding his friends. Pippin had already apologized profusely to him. Pippin had tried to comfort him the best he could
"He can't be that kind, anyway, Frodo, if he yelled at you like that and slammed the door in your face."
"No, Pippin. We deserved it."
Frodo waited around the dining area, hoping the Gondorian would show up. This time he would not flee. Just the day before, he had wandered down the corridor, close to Boromir's quarters and the large man had turned the corner out of nowhere, startling Frodo badly. Frodo had fled, his heart thudding too hard to encounter Boromir. He had agonized over his lack of courage the rest of the night.
Finally Boromir entered. Frodo took a deep breath and bravely walked to the man.
"Boromir," he said softly. THe man did not appear to have heard. He cleared his throat. "Boromir!"
Boromir flinched, as if startled, and then looked down at Frodo in surprise. He didn't say anything.
"I...I wanted to..." Frodo looked up at the man's stubbled face, but he could read no warmth there. "I wanted to apologize for the other night."
Boromir nodded curtly, but still did not say anything. Frodo flushed. This was becoming awkward. He wasn't sure whether to continue. He felt his throat swell in disappointment.
"All right," Frodo said. He turned away in humiliation. Perhaps Pippin was right. The man was not worth pursuing. But he could not let it go so easily. There had to be a reason Frodo had felt such a strong initial reaction to him. It was worth one more chance. Boromir started to walk away. Frodo trotted after him and grabbed his sleeve.
The man turned in irritation. "What is it?"
Frodo's face heated. "I want to start over. Pretend you never saw me in your room. Please let me make it up to you. Come, Boromir. We can arrange to take a picnic into the fields just beyond the house. I...I'd really like to know you, to talk to you."
Boromir's eyes widened in surprise. His cheeks turned slightly red and he released an awkward laugh. "I don't think it's a good idea, halfling. Now, good day!"
He turned and strode quickly out of the room. Frodo's cheeks burned in deep shame. He had thrown himself at Boromir, and he had been ruthlessly turned down. He knew now that Pippin was right. The man was cold, not someone who could ever please a warm, affectionate hobbit like himself. The knowledge didn't make it hurt less. In fact, his insides felt like tiny pinchers attacked him from all angles. Frodo collapsed on a nearby chair and lay his head on his knees in despair.
Boromir rushed through the corridors, barely noticing his surroundings, his heart thudding. He had gone into the dining area to eat, but food was the last thing on his mind now. He could not believe what had just happened. The halfling Frodo had begged him to go on a picnic, in a private field, so that he could get to know him! Now that he thought about it, Aragorn had worn a secret smile after Boromir had mentioned the halflings. Aragorn had also said that Frodo was curious about him. What did it mean? He was afraid to think too much about it. He knew he had just been incredibly rude to Frodo, but he simply didn't trust himself.
If he went with Frodo, and the halfling wanted to kiss him--his breath quickened at the thought. He wouldn't be able to control himself. What was it about his lovely dark curls, soft, flawless skin, and most importantly sparkling blue eyes that made Boromir's breath catch? He could fully admit it to himself. Just being in the presence of the halfling made him feel weak. Weakness was something he could not allow in himself. He did not have the time or inclination to fall in love.
Later that afternoon, he walked around the outdoor grounds of the House of Elrond. The calm he had begun to feel in this Elven fortress had left him. His mind burned. He could not go back to his room and rest. He pictured himself taking Frodo up on his offer, going with him into a sunny field with nobody else around.
***
Frodo felt weary beyond belief. His attempt to charm Boromir had failed miserably. His shoulder had begun to ache again. Elrond had told him that it would be common for it to hurt occasionally and that unfortunately he would probably never be rid of it completely. He had only been out of bed a few days and sometimes even a walk from his quarters down to the dining area left him winded and weak. Today especially. Now there was nothing to look forward to. When he had first seen Boromir and recognized his attraction for the tall man, he had believed that something exciting was going to happen to him, that he had something outside of the Ring to think about. Now he had butchered that hope by behaving foolishly. He didn't care that he was tired. He needed to get some fresh air. After that he would go back to his room and take a nap--and try to rid his mind of Boromir.
He found himself wandering around the steep paths and staircases outside. The air was sweet and warm, and he breathed it in. After an hour of such wandering, his shoulder ached with an icy intensity that he hadn't felt since before losing consciousness at the Ford. He thought he should probably inform Elrond, as he was to tell him if his shoulder hurt more than a gentle throb.
***
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur for Boromir. Everywhere he went, he could think of nothing other than trying to catch sight of the slight figure with the curly dark hair. He should never have spoken so abruptly to him. The halfling had just shocked him--he hadn't known how to deal with it. He wished he had at least been less cold to him. What must Frodo think of men after his two encounters with him?
He finally spotted Frodo climbing a flight of stairs, looking pensive. He hadn't seen Boromir yet. Boromir held his breath, just watching him. The halfling looked pained, pale and sad. Boromir shook his head in self-anger. He was going to talk to Frodo--and let whatever came of it come. Boromir flinched in concern as Frodo staggered and nearly fell. Frodo clutched his arm, as if it pained him greatly. He leaned heavily against the wall that ran along side the stairs.
Boromir ran quickly toward him, intending to help him. It was obvious Frodo had injured himself or was ill. His face looked very pale now.
"Frodo?"
Frodo looked up at him; his eyes looked glassy and pained. There was no doubt that he was ill.
"Boromir," he gasped. "Please help me, I--"
Frodo's eyes rolled behind his head. Boromir caught him as he collapsed. Boromir's heart sped as he lowered Frodo gently to the ground and onto his lap. He felt Frodo's cheeks. They were frigid.
"What's this?" Boromir muttered, feeling sick inside. He had never felt skin so cold on a living person before. He shook Frodo's shoulder. He clutched Frodo's hand and squeezed. It felt icy, as if Frodo had held his hand in a bucket of snow for several hours.
"Frodo? Can you hear me?"
Frodo groaned but did not open his eyes. Heart pounding, Boromir carried him down the stairs. He nearly ran into Aragorn at the bottom. Aragorn immediately grew concerned when he saw Frodo in Boromir's arms.
"What's happened?"
"He collapsed on the stairs. He's very ill, Aragorn. Feel him. His skin is like ice."
Aragorn took Frodo from Boromir. He stroked Frodo's face in concern. He sighed when he felt how icy his skin was.
"It is his wound. I must get him to Elrond at once. He should have spent a few more days in bed."
"What is wrong with him, Aragorn?"
"I will say no more other than to say that he was stabbed by a blade of the Enemy. The poison still troubles him, though Elrond's hands are the best healing he could have had."
Boromir paled. He had badly misjudged the hobbits as being soft and silly. Frodo had experienced horror and pain that most warriors in Minis Tirith, near the border of Mordor, had never had to face.
He looked up to ask Aragorn more, but the ranger had already lifted Frodo over his shoulder and run down the stairs.
***
Frodo had seen a lovely vision before he had fallen into cold shadows. He had seen Boromir's shining face, creased with concern. He had thought he felt his strong arms clasp him. But then the red-eyed orcs surrounded him with whips and cudgels. He had thought he had awakened already from this nightmare, but it continued. A fiery red eye blazed in front of him, whispering dark words. He tried to remember the details of Boromir's face, but the fiery eye kept blocking it. He shrieked, trying to rid his body of the icy pain, hoping anybody would help him.
TBC
Author: Claudia
Pairing: Frodo/Boromir
Rating: PG13
Summary: In Rivendell, Boromir and Frodo cannot deny an instant attraction.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no money from them. ANY reference to herbs or treatment is purely made up. I haven't a clue, so don't try it at home :).
Story notes: I am aware that the council of Elrond was right after Frodo woke from his injuries, but I’m making it later.
Frodo watched the large man ride into Rivendell and dismount from his horse. His large, muscular body was both fascinating and frightening, and Frodo felt at once breathless. He had not yet gotten used to interacting with Big People. He had traveled with Aragorn, but Aragorn was not typical. He was more Elven-or more appropriately, more similar to Gandalf. This man riding into town had exactly the look that Frodo had pictured when he thought about the Big People-intimidating and arrogant but full of muscular grace.
The man looked up suddenly, as if he sensed Frodo’s gaze. He lifted his hand in tentative greeting before striding away, leading his horse. Frodo hoped that he would show up for the feast that evening. His stomach rumbled with hunger. He had only been out of bed a few days. His appetite had returned with a vengeance.
“Hallo, Frodo.” Pippin squeezed his arm. “How are you feeling?”
“I couldn’t be better,” Frodo said.
“What were you looking at so intently just now?”
Frodo realized that he had a secret smile on his face. His cheeks grew warm.
“Oh, a man rode in just now. I was wondering who he was.”
“You can soon find out. I was sent to get you. Dinner is served, and several newcomers will be there. That man must be one of them.”
At the dinner, Frodo sat between Sam and Aragorn. He enjoyed the company of his friends very much, but he was distracted. He found that his eyes kept wandering across the table to the man who had captured his fascination. He couldn’t believe that the man had had such a strange effect on him in so short a time. His heart sped and slowed in strange rhythms.
“Excuse me,” Frodo said softly to Aragorn. “Who is that man? Is he from a distant land?”
Aragorn smiled softly. He cleared his throat to capture the attention of the man, who had been deep in contemplation.
“Excuse me, Boromir. I’d like to introduce you to someone.”
The man Boromir looked up from his meal. His eyes rested on Frodo. He seemed to notice him for the first time. His lips parted in curiosity.
“Boromir, this is Frodo Baggins. He came from the Shire, through many perils, of which you’ll learn during the council. Frodo, this is the son of the Steward of Gondor. He has come to learn more at Elrond’s council.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Boromir said with a soft smile. “I have never seen a halfling, though my brother used to tell me tales of little people who lived far to the north of us. That is where the Shire is, I would guess.”
“Yes,” Frodo answered. “And I, in turn, have not met many men. I’m glad to meet you.”
A tall elf bent over Boromir and whispered something in his ear. Boromir nodded. He turned to Frodo.
“Please excuse me. There is a matter I must attend to.”
The large man got up, pushed his chair in, and strode out of the room. Frodo stared after him, his cheeks red and hot. Boromir was a big man, but he moved with agility and grace. His huge hands were callused from a lifetime of wielding swords. His voice had been soft and courteous.
Frodo looked up to catch Aragorn smiling at him. Frodo glanced down at his food. He suddenly had no appetite. He was bitterly disappointed that Boromir had been called away before they could talk more.
“He’s a good man,” Aragorn murmured. “Trustworthy and brave.”
“Yes, it seems so,” Frodo answered.
“Frodo, you will be in Rivendell for several weeks before the council. I am quite certain you’ll have further opportunity to talk to Boromir.”
Frodo’s cheeks flamed. He had been too obvious. He wondered if Boromir had sensed his over-eagerness. Frodo would not be able to bear it if he had already made a mess of his potential friendship with the man.
Aragorn dropped his voice to a whisper.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said. “You would not be the first to fall for such a man.”
Frodo pushed his chair back. His humiliation was complete. He could not meet Aragorn’s gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he stammered. “Please excuse me.”
Frodo’s hobbit friends followed him out of the room.
“What is with you?” Merry asked. “Are you ill?”
“No,” Frodo said. “I just want to be alone for awhile.”
Pippin smiled knowingly.
“I think it has to do with a certain Gondorian who arrived in town today.”
“Does all of Rivendell know already?” Frodo said, his throat catching.
“No, only your dear friends.”
“What are you talking about?” Sam asked.
Frodo told him about how Boromir had ridden into Rivendell that day and the effect it had had upon him.
Frodo flushed again. Now that it was in the open, he found that he could more clearly define his feelings. He could admit to his friends and to himself that he had a sudden and violent crush on Boromir. He wanted to know more about him. He wanted to know everything about him. Most of all, he knew the next few weeks would be full of the distraction of trying to meet up with the young man.
“If he’s out and about dealing with business now,” Pippin said. “Then he’s not in his room.”
Pippin smiled mischievously. Merry punched his arm.
“I see what you’re getting at, cousin.”
“I don’t understand,” Frodo said with a puzzled frown.
“You Bagginses can be so dense sometimes,” Pippin said, shaking his head. Sam glared at him.
“What he means, dear Frodo,” Merry said. “Is that your fellow is not in his room. We can sneak in and you can find out more about him. You can find out if he has a sweetheart or-“
“No,” Frodo said, appalled. “I’m not going to sneak through his belongings!”
“You don’t have to go through his stuff,” Pippin shrugged. “But aren’t you be curious as to what his room looks like? His bed?”
Frodo flushed furiously.
“I should never have told you!”
But he was tempted. Pippin was right. There could be no harm in simply entering his room and smelling his scent, seeing what manner of pack he had or the swords he carried with him. His breath caught at the image of the powerful man wielding a sword nearly the length of Frodo’s body.
“All right,” he said quietly. “But if we get caught, I’ll blame it all on you.”
“That you may,” Pippin said.
“Mr. Frodo-“ Sam said, shaking his head. “I don’t know about this.”
Frodo put his arm around Sam’s shoulders. “It’s all right, Sam. You don’t have to go.”
“If you’re going, then I’m going.”
Frodo took a deep breath. Despite his initial annoyance at his younger friends, he felt a surge of excitement. He hadn’t done anything this mischievous since he had stolen mushrooms from Farmer Maggot’s field as a youngster. After the past dark weeks, it felt good to be a little youthful.
"Do you know where he sleeps?" Frodo asked as he followed his friends down a long, arched corridor. The steady chirp of crickets filled the silky night air. Frodo imagined being invited by Boromir to come to his room. The thought made him feel warm all over.
Pippin and Merry looked at each other, and Pippin winked.
"I made it a point to find out. I saw cousin Frodo with stars in his eyes at dinner, gazing at Boromir, that unmistakeable look of desire in those big blue eyes--"
"How could he resist, I wonder?" Merry asked.
"Stop, you two!" Frodo protested, turning red again. Had his feelings been so obvious to everyone at the feast?
"Anyway," Pippin said. He finished the apple he had been nibbling on and threw it into a nearby bin. "I asked around until I found out where he was staying. Just follow me."
Frodo's heart sped as they climbed a flight of stairs and entered a new corridor. He had explored the house of Elrond after he had first awakened, but he had never been in these quarters.
Pippin stood proudly in front of a huge door. Elvish runes curved around a gold knob. Frodo found himself blushing again. He had never fallen for anybody so violently before. A wave of dizzyness overcame him, and he clutched the knob.
"Are you sure we should do this?" he asked.
"He won't be back for hours," Merry said. "Any matter involving conversation with the elves is bound to take half the night."
"I still don't know," Sam muttered, shaking his head.
Pippin pushed open the door, and it swung open. The hobbits crept in. Frodo was amazed by the size of the room. His own quarters were huge, but the elves had kindly tried to give the hobbits the smallest rooms they could find in order to make it as home-like as possible. This room seemed the size of all of Bag End, if it were spread into one chamber.
A huge sword and round shield leaned against the wall. Frodo brushed his hand over the shield. It smelled like pinewood and leather. Frodo inhaled, imagining burying his face into Boromir's hair.
"What's this?" he heard Pippin ask in the background. Frodo saw that his young cousin had picked up several rings from the dresser.
"Oh, Pippin, be careful," Frodo said. "Those look quite valuable."
Frodo ran his hand on the hilt of the sword. He lifted it with both hands. He had been right in his earlier musings. The sword was nearly his height and extremely heavy. He could barely lift it. He curled both hands around the hilt and raised it from the ground. What strength Boromir must have in order to thrust through the air, to strike down his enemies! His own small hands felt soft and inadequate.
A loud voice at the door caused Frodo's heart to leap into his throat. He released Boromir's sword, and it fell to the floor with a huge clatter.
"What is going on here?"
Frodo stared up in dismay at the large man. He felt so ashamed. Sam cowered beside him, clutching his arm. Sam was trembling and Frodo felt rotten for dragging him into this situation. Sam had been terrified of the men in Bree, and had barely trusted Aragorn until the end of their desperate journey to Rivendell. And now here was this warrior from Gondor furious at them.
Merry and Pippin stood in place, fidgeting and looking very much like hobbit children who had been caught stealing mushrooms.
"I asked what's going on," Boromir took a threatening step into the room, causing the hobbits to flinch and move back. "Why are you going through my belongings?"
Frodo's throat filled. He had no excuse for the foolish way he and his friends had acted. He smarted inside, knowing that he had ruined any chance he might have to pursue the young Gondorian. Now the man no doubt would have the impression that hobbits were silly, mischievous children.
"We're very sorry," Pippin said in a small voice. Boromir wheeled to him in a fury. He raised his fisted hand, and Frodo gasped, wondering if the man would strike Pippin. Instead, Boromir shook his head, obviously disgusted. He took in a deep breath and unclenched his fist. His voice, which had been so beautiful at dinner, was low and threatening. His gray eyes glinted like iron.
"I did not know the halflings were so discourteous--now all of you--get out!"
Merry and Pippin fled the room immediately. Frodo felt rooted in place. He wanted to say something, to apologize for his shameful act. A lump filled his throat. Any chance he had ever had with the man was now gone forever.
Sam dragged Frodo out the door, glancing back in terror at the man glaring down at them. Frodo looked up, knowing his cheeks were red.
"I'm very sorry," he managed before Boromir slammed his door shut on their faces.
Frodo followed his friends numbly down the corridor until they were out of earshot.
"Oh, Sam!" he choked. "How could I have done that? I acted like a hobbit just into his tweens. Now he will never--he'll hate me now. I've lost my chance."
His shoulder ached, and he felt like fierce icy fingers were digging into it. He was weary. He just wanted to curl up in bed and not come out until the council.
"Mr. Frodo, it wasn't your fault. If you ask my opinion, it's Pippin that ought to have his bottom bruised. We should never have listened to him. Now, don't fret. I'll help you fix this. When this fine man hears about what you've gone through, he'll not let something this trivial get in the way--you'll see! Now let's get you to bed. You look right tired, Mr. Frodo."
Boromir breathed in the fresh morning air. Though it was late October, it felt like spring in Minis Tirith. The sweet fragrance of lilacs wafted under his nose. A silky warm breeze rustled his clothing, which seemed much too heavy for Rivendell's mild weather. He found Aragorn sitting on a carved chair on one of the many balconies. He was sipping tea, a faint smile of contentment on his face.
"Good morning, Aragorn," Boromir said, nodding. He had originally intended to keep walking in order to get something to eat, but instead he paused. He couldn't rid his mind of the vision of the beautiful dark-haired halfling he had met at the feast and his friends trespassing in his room two nights earlier.
"Morning, Boromir." Aragorn took in a sniff of the air. "A fine day it will be today--as is every day in Rivendell under this sun."
"That is true." Boromir leaned against the balcony. "Tell me, Aragorn. You traveled with the halflings, am I right?"
Aragorn gave him a strange, knowing smile that puzzled him.
"Yes, why do you ask?"
"I wonder. Is it the custom in the Shire to think nothing of rifling through the belongings of others?"
Aragorn's smile faded. "Not that I know of, Boromir, though certainly hobbits are much more open with each other than men. Did something happen?"
Boromir explained what happened when he came back to his room and found the four hobbits going through his belongings.
"It's not that I have anything to hide, Aragorn, but it is the principle of the matter. I nearly spoke to Elrond about it, but I decided that I gave them enough of a scare."
"All four of them, you say?"
"There were four."
"Frodo was there?" Aragorn said in disbelief.
"Frodo?" Boromir looked confused.
"The halfling I introduced you to at the feast."
"Ah, yes," Boromir said with a faint smile. He remembered thinking that the halfling looked more like an elf with his soft, flawless skin and huge blue eyes. "Yes, Frodo was there, too."
"I don't understand it," Aragorn said, shaking his head. "I understand the two younger hobbits--they are but like teenagers among our own kind. And Sam, he would follow Frodo anywhere. But Frodo is so serious and intelligent--much like his uncle--and he's gone through so much. I'm just surprised he was involved in such mischief. Though he was quite curious about you."
Boromir shook his head. "If he was before, I don't think so anymore. I saw him in the corridor yesterday. He fled to get out of my way. Perhaps I overreacted when I found them in my room. Frodo was curious about me, you say?"
"If I know Frodo," Aragorn said. "I would say he's deeply embarrassed by what happened."
Boromir felt an unexpected shudder of warmth under his skin as he remembered the hobbit's flushed face. He wondered what it would be like to stroke that cheek. He wondered how it would feel to sink his lips into Frodo's moist bow-shaped lips. He flushed. What he was thinking was proposterous. He was a warrior on a mission. The last thing he needed was to fall for a helpless, silly halfling.
***
Frodo wandered around the grounds of Elrond's house, avoiding his friends. Pippin had already apologized profusely to him. Pippin had tried to comfort him the best he could
"He can't be that kind, anyway, Frodo, if he yelled at you like that and slammed the door in your face."
"No, Pippin. We deserved it."
Frodo waited around the dining area, hoping the Gondorian would show up. This time he would not flee. Just the day before, he had wandered down the corridor, close to Boromir's quarters and the large man had turned the corner out of nowhere, startling Frodo badly. Frodo had fled, his heart thudding too hard to encounter Boromir. He had agonized over his lack of courage the rest of the night.
Finally Boromir entered. Frodo took a deep breath and bravely walked to the man.
"Boromir," he said softly. THe man did not appear to have heard. He cleared his throat. "Boromir!"
Boromir flinched, as if startled, and then looked down at Frodo in surprise. He didn't say anything.
"I...I wanted to..." Frodo looked up at the man's stubbled face, but he could read no warmth there. "I wanted to apologize for the other night."
Boromir nodded curtly, but still did not say anything. Frodo flushed. This was becoming awkward. He wasn't sure whether to continue. He felt his throat swell in disappointment.
"All right," Frodo said. He turned away in humiliation. Perhaps Pippin was right. The man was not worth pursuing. But he could not let it go so easily. There had to be a reason Frodo had felt such a strong initial reaction to him. It was worth one more chance. Boromir started to walk away. Frodo trotted after him and grabbed his sleeve.
The man turned in irritation. "What is it?"
Frodo's face heated. "I want to start over. Pretend you never saw me in your room. Please let me make it up to you. Come, Boromir. We can arrange to take a picnic into the fields just beyond the house. I...I'd really like to know you, to talk to you."
Boromir's eyes widened in surprise. His cheeks turned slightly red and he released an awkward laugh. "I don't think it's a good idea, halfling. Now, good day!"
He turned and strode quickly out of the room. Frodo's cheeks burned in deep shame. He had thrown himself at Boromir, and he had been ruthlessly turned down. He knew now that Pippin was right. The man was cold, not someone who could ever please a warm, affectionate hobbit like himself. The knowledge didn't make it hurt less. In fact, his insides felt like tiny pinchers attacked him from all angles. Frodo collapsed on a nearby chair and lay his head on his knees in despair.
Boromir rushed through the corridors, barely noticing his surroundings, his heart thudding. He had gone into the dining area to eat, but food was the last thing on his mind now. He could not believe what had just happened. The halfling Frodo had begged him to go on a picnic, in a private field, so that he could get to know him! Now that he thought about it, Aragorn had worn a secret smile after Boromir had mentioned the halflings. Aragorn had also said that Frodo was curious about him. What did it mean? He was afraid to think too much about it. He knew he had just been incredibly rude to Frodo, but he simply didn't trust himself.
If he went with Frodo, and the halfling wanted to kiss him--his breath quickened at the thought. He wouldn't be able to control himself. What was it about his lovely dark curls, soft, flawless skin, and most importantly sparkling blue eyes that made Boromir's breath catch? He could fully admit it to himself. Just being in the presence of the halfling made him feel weak. Weakness was something he could not allow in himself. He did not have the time or inclination to fall in love.
Later that afternoon, he walked around the outdoor grounds of the House of Elrond. The calm he had begun to feel in this Elven fortress had left him. His mind burned. He could not go back to his room and rest. He pictured himself taking Frodo up on his offer, going with him into a sunny field with nobody else around.
***
Frodo felt weary beyond belief. His attempt to charm Boromir had failed miserably. His shoulder had begun to ache again. Elrond had told him that it would be common for it to hurt occasionally and that unfortunately he would probably never be rid of it completely. He had only been out of bed a few days and sometimes even a walk from his quarters down to the dining area left him winded and weak. Today especially. Now there was nothing to look forward to. When he had first seen Boromir and recognized his attraction for the tall man, he had believed that something exciting was going to happen to him, that he had something outside of the Ring to think about. Now he had butchered that hope by behaving foolishly. He didn't care that he was tired. He needed to get some fresh air. After that he would go back to his room and take a nap--and try to rid his mind of Boromir.
He found himself wandering around the steep paths and staircases outside. The air was sweet and warm, and he breathed it in. After an hour of such wandering, his shoulder ached with an icy intensity that he hadn't felt since before losing consciousness at the Ford. He thought he should probably inform Elrond, as he was to tell him if his shoulder hurt more than a gentle throb.
***
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur for Boromir. Everywhere he went, he could think of nothing other than trying to catch sight of the slight figure with the curly dark hair. He should never have spoken so abruptly to him. The halfling had just shocked him--he hadn't known how to deal with it. He wished he had at least been less cold to him. What must Frodo think of men after his two encounters with him?
He finally spotted Frodo climbing a flight of stairs, looking pensive. He hadn't seen Boromir yet. Boromir held his breath, just watching him. The halfling looked pained, pale and sad. Boromir shook his head in self-anger. He was going to talk to Frodo--and let whatever came of it come. Boromir flinched in concern as Frodo staggered and nearly fell. Frodo clutched his arm, as if it pained him greatly. He leaned heavily against the wall that ran along side the stairs.
Boromir ran quickly toward him, intending to help him. It was obvious Frodo had injured himself or was ill. His face looked very pale now.
"Frodo?"
Frodo looked up at him; his eyes looked glassy and pained. There was no doubt that he was ill.
"Boromir," he gasped. "Please help me, I--"
Frodo's eyes rolled behind his head. Boromir caught him as he collapsed. Boromir's heart sped as he lowered Frodo gently to the ground and onto his lap. He felt Frodo's cheeks. They were frigid.
"What's this?" Boromir muttered, feeling sick inside. He had never felt skin so cold on a living person before. He shook Frodo's shoulder. He clutched Frodo's hand and squeezed. It felt icy, as if Frodo had held his hand in a bucket of snow for several hours.
"Frodo? Can you hear me?"
Frodo groaned but did not open his eyes. Heart pounding, Boromir carried him down the stairs. He nearly ran into Aragorn at the bottom. Aragorn immediately grew concerned when he saw Frodo in Boromir's arms.
"What's happened?"
"He collapsed on the stairs. He's very ill, Aragorn. Feel him. His skin is like ice."
Aragorn took Frodo from Boromir. He stroked Frodo's face in concern. He sighed when he felt how icy his skin was.
"It is his wound. I must get him to Elrond at once. He should have spent a few more days in bed."
"What is wrong with him, Aragorn?"
"I will say no more other than to say that he was stabbed by a blade of the Enemy. The poison still troubles him, though Elrond's hands are the best healing he could have had."
Boromir paled. He had badly misjudged the hobbits as being soft and silly. Frodo had experienced horror and pain that most warriors in Minis Tirith, near the border of Mordor, had never had to face.
He looked up to ask Aragorn more, but the ranger had already lifted Frodo over his shoulder and run down the stairs.
***
Frodo had seen a lovely vision before he had fallen into cold shadows. He had seen Boromir's shining face, creased with concern. He had thought he felt his strong arms clasp him. But then the red-eyed orcs surrounded him with whips and cudgels. He had thought he had awakened already from this nightmare, but it continued. A fiery red eye blazed in front of him, whispering dark words. He tried to remember the details of Boromir's face, but the fiery eye kept blocking it. He shrieked, trying to rid his body of the icy pain, hoping anybody would help him.
TBC