Sons of Gondor
Dec. 22nd, 2003 09:57 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
ozcmom.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
rugbytackleTitle: Bearing the Burden
Series: Sons of Gondor
Pairing: A/B
Warnings: First ever FPS (don’t LISTEN to Heath!)
Feedback: PLEASE!
Beta: None, wasn't game enough to inflict anyone....
Archive: Rugbytackle
Notes: Again, this is a first time go at FPS. Hope it is good enough, considering the wonderful stuff that is out there.
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Boromir looked around carefully. The stream had eroded away part of the bank under the roots of the large tree. He carefully slid the flask from his backpack, and watching to ensure his actions were not noted by any of the members of the Fellowship he placed it in the cool waters of the stream, tying it securely it in the roots of the tree.
He made his way up the bank and towards the camp. He could see the hobbits and the old wizard moving around. Gimli and Legolas seemed to be tolerating each other as they tended their weapons, and Aragorn was seated a little away from the group, smoking his pipe.
He walked to the ranger, who looked up at his approach. “You looked deep in thought,” he ventured. “A burden shared is a burden lightened.”
Aragorn looked up at him, and shifted slightly, indicating for Boromir to join him.
“Sometimes a burden is such that it cannot be divided,” Aragorn said quietly, glancing sideways at the man seated now beside him.
“In that case, the bearing of it can be shared, rather than the burden itself,” Boromir stated. “You have spent many years alone, and are perhaps not sure of the willingness of others to assist you in this journey.” His eyes had become fixed on his shield, which lay opposite, resting against a tree. Aragorn watched Boromir’s face, attempting to fathom the depth of knowledge this man held on the makeup of his burden, until suddenly Boromir turned, his eyes piercing, staking a claim on Aragorn’s as the ranger quickly drew his head up as though fending off a blow.
“In Gondor when the White Tower sounds the trumpets, announcing the return of her sons, all come forth to assist in the carrying of their burdens, to greet the returning soldiers, and to support the ones who return, for more oft than not, many do not return. This burden is carried by all, as is the way of Gondor.”
Aragorn watched the passion rise in the son of the country to which he himself was bound by birth, and felt the twist in his gut. For his whole life he had avoided it, had avoided the responsibility his bloodline had given him. The burden was beginning to bear heavily on his shoulders. And now, at this most critical of times, he had been called back. Not by the ring, not by the responsibilities of his bloodline, but by the pleas of this man now seated next to him.
He would return to Gondor, he knew, but not wholly for the reasons written in the passages of time. He would return for the man next to him, this son of the Steward of Gondor. He had resisted it for long enough, and now, with the potential for the world to fall into unending darkness, he knew he would finally go to the land of his forefathers.
“Perhaps you can teach me more of the ways of Gondor,” he quietly stated.
“I would be happy to advise you, my lord,” offered Boromir.
The ranger drew on his pipe and the son of a steward considered his future responsibilities.
(tbc??) it's up to you!
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Series: Sons of Gondor
Pairing: A/B
Warnings: First ever FPS (don’t LISTEN to Heath!)
Feedback: PLEASE!
Beta: None, wasn't game enough to inflict anyone....
Archive: Rugbytackle
Notes: Again, this is a first time go at FPS. Hope it is good enough, considering the wonderful stuff that is out there.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Boromir looked around carefully. The stream had eroded away part of the bank under the roots of the large tree. He carefully slid the flask from his backpack, and watching to ensure his actions were not noted by any of the members of the Fellowship he placed it in the cool waters of the stream, tying it securely it in the roots of the tree.
He made his way up the bank and towards the camp. He could see the hobbits and the old wizard moving around. Gimli and Legolas seemed to be tolerating each other as they tended their weapons, and Aragorn was seated a little away from the group, smoking his pipe.
He walked to the ranger, who looked up at his approach. “You looked deep in thought,” he ventured. “A burden shared is a burden lightened.”
Aragorn looked up at him, and shifted slightly, indicating for Boromir to join him.
“Sometimes a burden is such that it cannot be divided,” Aragorn said quietly, glancing sideways at the man seated now beside him.
“In that case, the bearing of it can be shared, rather than the burden itself,” Boromir stated. “You have spent many years alone, and are perhaps not sure of the willingness of others to assist you in this journey.” His eyes had become fixed on his shield, which lay opposite, resting against a tree. Aragorn watched Boromir’s face, attempting to fathom the depth of knowledge this man held on the makeup of his burden, until suddenly Boromir turned, his eyes piercing, staking a claim on Aragorn’s as the ranger quickly drew his head up as though fending off a blow.
“In Gondor when the White Tower sounds the trumpets, announcing the return of her sons, all come forth to assist in the carrying of their burdens, to greet the returning soldiers, and to support the ones who return, for more oft than not, many do not return. This burden is carried by all, as is the way of Gondor.”
Aragorn watched the passion rise in the son of the country to which he himself was bound by birth, and felt the twist in his gut. For his whole life he had avoided it, had avoided the responsibility his bloodline had given him. The burden was beginning to bear heavily on his shoulders. And now, at this most critical of times, he had been called back. Not by the ring, not by the responsibilities of his bloodline, but by the pleas of this man now seated next to him.
He would return to Gondor, he knew, but not wholly for the reasons written in the passages of time. He would return for the man next to him, this son of the Steward of Gondor. He had resisted it for long enough, and now, with the potential for the world to fall into unending darkness, he knew he would finally go to the land of his forefathers.
“Perhaps you can teach me more of the ways of Gondor,” he quietly stated.
“I would be happy to advise you, my lord,” offered Boromir.
The ranger drew on his pipe and the son of a steward considered his future responsibilities.
(tbc??) it's up to you!
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no subject
Date: 2003-12-22 04:17 pm (UTC)And why would I not want to read more of anything you write? Silly wabbit... *g*
You have me reading Aragorn and Boromir, for heaven's sake! Yes, I want to read more. :)
no subject
Date: 2003-12-23 01:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-22 04:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-23 12:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-22 06:20 pm (UTC)Oh, yes, more! Great set up for a long series. *begs*
no subject
Date: 2003-12-22 06:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-22 06:38 pm (UTC)Seriously, I loved this - started to get a tingle of what's in store. Oh please do keep going (and don't post too much of it while I'm away up north till the beginning of next year with no internet!!)
*hugs you tight*
no subject
Date: 2003-12-24 01:08 pm (UTC)Sounds like a great idea!!
It's up to us? In that case, pretty please???