FIC: Trajectory (LotR)
Title: Trajectory
Author: Galadriel (caras_galadhon)
Fandom: LotR
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Rating: PG-13
Archive: Lothlorien and sons_of_gondor.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Disclaimer: I have a vivid fantasy life, but I do not pretend to be JRR Tolkien, nor do I pretend to own his characters.
Summary: One member of the Fellowship is unable to find rest.
Notes: A double drabble, written to stave off the shakes associated with not-writing. I'd offer it up as a birthday fic, but it's perhaps not appropriate for celebration. My thanks to nieninque121 for her quick and dirty beta.
Trajectory
By Galadriel
The roar filled his ears, blotting out all other senses; sight, scent, touch and taste given over to sound. He gasped, struggling for breath to combat the pain in his chest -- growing greater with each moment -- until he found himself pinned, slowly crushed under a weight that drowned all sense; a rushing wall of water, drawn directly into his lungs.
Had his body turned traitor, or would he learn to breathe bubbles, grow slippery scaled armour against the seeping, creeping cold?
As quickly as the thought flamed to life it flickered, slipping out of reach as the lightest brush of fin.
Pain, sound and self faded, snaking away into dark.
A jolt, and he awoke, certain he tumbled from the heights, falling in failure until the waking world took hold.
Beside him, Boromir slumbered soundly, as undisturbed by dreams as if in his final rest. Unable to resist, Aragorn held two fingers beneath his lover's nose.
A warm tickle against tips; relief came in waves, filling the nock in his heart with a quiet joy.
Yet still he shuddered, no setting to string to let the dream fly; the spectre had pierced his breast, an accurate arrow well-fletched with Shadow.
END
(March 28-31, 2007)
Crossposted to sons_of_gondor, athelingas, rugbytackle.
Author: Galadriel (caras_galadhon)
Fandom: LotR
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Rating: PG-13
Archive: Lothlorien and sons_of_gondor.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Disclaimer: I have a vivid fantasy life, but I do not pretend to be JRR Tolkien, nor do I pretend to own his characters.
Summary: One member of the Fellowship is unable to find rest.
Notes: A double drabble, written to stave off the shakes associated with not-writing. I'd offer it up as a birthday fic, but it's perhaps not appropriate for celebration. My thanks to nieninque121 for her quick and dirty beta.
Trajectory
By Galadriel
The roar filled his ears, blotting out all other senses; sight, scent, touch and taste given over to sound. He gasped, struggling for breath to combat the pain in his chest -- growing greater with each moment -- until he found himself pinned, slowly crushed under a weight that drowned all sense; a rushing wall of water, drawn directly into his lungs.
Had his body turned traitor, or would he learn to breathe bubbles, grow slippery scaled armour against the seeping, creeping cold?
As quickly as the thought flamed to life it flickered, slipping out of reach as the lightest brush of fin.
Pain, sound and self faded, snaking away into dark.
A jolt, and he awoke, certain he tumbled from the heights, falling in failure until the waking world took hold.
Beside him, Boromir slumbered soundly, as undisturbed by dreams as if in his final rest. Unable to resist, Aragorn held two fingers beneath his lover's nose.
A warm tickle against tips; relief came in waves, filling the nock in his heart with a quiet joy.
Yet still he shuddered, no setting to string to let the dream fly; the spectre had pierced his breast, an accurate arrow well-fletched with Shadow.
END
(March 28-31, 2007)
Crossposted to sons_of_gondor, athelingas, rugbytackle.