"Contact" - Sons of Gondor series
Dec. 24th, 2003 07:31 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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rugbytackleTitle: Contact
Series: Sons of Gondor
Pairing: A/B
Warnings: First ever FPS (don’t LISTEN to Heath!) OK, well FPS series now.
Feedback: PLEASE! (if you want more in particular)
Beta: The instigator - heath! (Thanks, hon)
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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“’T won’t be long now, Mr Frodo, before this’ll be ready t’ eat.” Sam was watching the contents of his favourite pot, stirring and lifting a sample of its contents for study. “Would y’ be able to call the others, so we can share it out,” Sam asked.
“Certainly, Sam,” he heard Frodo reply, smiling and turning to call the others to eat. Gathering around the fire, they ate in comfortable companionship, Pippin’s antics keeping them entertained as he attempted to distract Merry and steal his food. Boromir watched with a grin, marvelling at the way the four hobbits seemed to be so comfortable with each other. He wondered whether this was just the way of hobbits, or if it was something in particular about these four.
It wasn’t the way of ‘men’, to behave with such closeness in front of others. He pondered what it would be like, to be able to be that physically close with another man, someone you admired and even longed for, but knew you couldn’t approach even privately, due to the fate of birth.
Glancing across at Aragorn he observed the ranger’s distraction. He watched out of the corner of his eye, noting each movement and sigh. He could sense the inner turmoil, and wondered at its true source. Finishing his meal he stood, gathered the plates of the others who had also finished and walked to the stream to clean them, something he had never thought he would find himself doing prior to joining with this group.
“There are many things I am learning travelling with this unlikely band,” he mumbled to himself as he fumbled with the uncooperative cutlery.
“And what might they be?” came a voice from behind his shoulder. Freezing momentarily he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise unbidden. He hadn’t heard the approach of the ranger, and chided himself for his tardiness. Slowly turning his head he looked up at the face now positioned over his shoulder, silently noting that it was just far enough distant to ensure the body was out of reach of a sudden lunge. This man was used to keeping his distance from potential contact, he thought to himself.
“What might what be?” he said, remaining crouched, plates still between his feet, on the edge of the bank.
“These many things you are learning,” replied the ranger patiently.
Boromir thought momentarily whether this was the time to be honest, or to brush past the enquiry. “I have learnt that hobbits are indeed amazing creatures, and quite free in their sharing of body warmth. Not to mention their support for one another.” He turned as he mentioned the final point, his eyes meeting and challenging the ranger. As the steel blue met the glittery green they both paused, one waiting, one wondering, both wanting.
Finally the deadlock was broken, as Boromir turned away to collect the items he had washed, and stood. Aragorn had remained still, his eyes never leaving Boromir’s face. He continued his intent study, as Boromir turned back towards the camp, returning the utensils and plates. Aragorn’s hand darted out, gently holding Boromir’s upper arm. “I am sorry I disappoint you,” he said, after Boromir had halted.
“You don’t disappoint me, but you do intrigue me,” Boromir stated simply. A small frown played across the ranger’s brow.
“Intrigue you?”
“Yes, intrigue me. Each day you silently move forward, taking in everything around you, but not noticing those closest to you,” Boromir continued. Now he had broached it, the subject welled up inside him, the words bursting to be heard, his thoughts clamouring to be recognised.
“You can pick a trail from ground that has been undisturbed for many days, yet you cannot see the flesh and blood that wants to help you with your journey. You can hear the sounds of those who are not within eyesight, yet you cannot recognise the voice of one who wishes to be your support, whilst they are standing beside you.”
Aragorn listened, his hand now feeling like it was being burnt with the intensity of emotion issuing from this man under his palm. He blinked, as he absorbed this torrent, his mind struggling as it reeled under the overwhelming urge to silence the voice.
It stopped. The silence descended, and Aragorn’s mind slowly cleared, this time with an adjusted view. His eyes rested on his hand, still holding the arm of the man who would become his Steward, and he knew that he wanted that to come true, in all ways, and more.
(tbc)
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Series: Sons of Gondor
Pairing: A/B
Warnings: First ever FPS (don’t LISTEN to Heath!) OK, well FPS series now.
Feedback: PLEASE! (if you want more in particular)
Beta: The instigator - heath! (Thanks, hon)
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.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
“’T won’t be long now, Mr Frodo, before this’ll be ready t’ eat.” Sam was watching the contents of his favourite pot, stirring and lifting a sample of its contents for study. “Would y’ be able to call the others, so we can share it out,” Sam asked.
“Certainly, Sam,” he heard Frodo reply, smiling and turning to call the others to eat. Gathering around the fire, they ate in comfortable companionship, Pippin’s antics keeping them entertained as he attempted to distract Merry and steal his food. Boromir watched with a grin, marvelling at the way the four hobbits seemed to be so comfortable with each other. He wondered whether this was just the way of hobbits, or if it was something in particular about these four.
It wasn’t the way of ‘men’, to behave with such closeness in front of others. He pondered what it would be like, to be able to be that physically close with another man, someone you admired and even longed for, but knew you couldn’t approach even privately, due to the fate of birth.
Glancing across at Aragorn he observed the ranger’s distraction. He watched out of the corner of his eye, noting each movement and sigh. He could sense the inner turmoil, and wondered at its true source. Finishing his meal he stood, gathered the plates of the others who had also finished and walked to the stream to clean them, something he had never thought he would find himself doing prior to joining with this group.
“There are many things I am learning travelling with this unlikely band,” he mumbled to himself as he fumbled with the uncooperative cutlery.
“And what might they be?” came a voice from behind his shoulder. Freezing momentarily he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise unbidden. He hadn’t heard the approach of the ranger, and chided himself for his tardiness. Slowly turning his head he looked up at the face now positioned over his shoulder, silently noting that it was just far enough distant to ensure the body was out of reach of a sudden lunge. This man was used to keeping his distance from potential contact, he thought to himself.
“What might what be?” he said, remaining crouched, plates still between his feet, on the edge of the bank.
“These many things you are learning,” replied the ranger patiently.
Boromir thought momentarily whether this was the time to be honest, or to brush past the enquiry. “I have learnt that hobbits are indeed amazing creatures, and quite free in their sharing of body warmth. Not to mention their support for one another.” He turned as he mentioned the final point, his eyes meeting and challenging the ranger. As the steel blue met the glittery green they both paused, one waiting, one wondering, both wanting.
Finally the deadlock was broken, as Boromir turned away to collect the items he had washed, and stood. Aragorn had remained still, his eyes never leaving Boromir’s face. He continued his intent study, as Boromir turned back towards the camp, returning the utensils and plates. Aragorn’s hand darted out, gently holding Boromir’s upper arm. “I am sorry I disappoint you,” he said, after Boromir had halted.
“You don’t disappoint me, but you do intrigue me,” Boromir stated simply. A small frown played across the ranger’s brow.
“Intrigue you?”
“Yes, intrigue me. Each day you silently move forward, taking in everything around you, but not noticing those closest to you,” Boromir continued. Now he had broached it, the subject welled up inside him, the words bursting to be heard, his thoughts clamouring to be recognised.
“You can pick a trail from ground that has been undisturbed for many days, yet you cannot see the flesh and blood that wants to help you with your journey. You can hear the sounds of those who are not within eyesight, yet you cannot recognise the voice of one who wishes to be your support, whilst they are standing beside you.”
Aragorn listened, his hand now feeling like it was being burnt with the intensity of emotion issuing from this man under his palm. He blinked, as he absorbed this torrent, his mind struggling as it reeled under the overwhelming urge to silence the voice.
It stopped. The silence descended, and Aragorn’s mind slowly cleared, this time with an adjusted view. His eyes rested on his hand, still holding the arm of the man who would become his Steward, and he knew that he wanted that to come true, in all ways, and more.
(tbc)
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
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no subject
Date: 2003-12-23 09:57 pm (UTC)and YES, you shouldn't listen to Heath, particularly when it comes to FPS or she'll win you over to
Faramirthe dark side in no timeno subject
Date: 2003-12-23 10:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-23 11:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-24 01:13 pm (UTC)And I agree with previous comments, that this is a very interesting take on Aragorn.