FIC: Parth Galen: four drabbles (Aragorn/Boromir) PG

[mrkinch.livejournal.com]

Title: Parth Galen: four drabbles
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Rating: PG
Summary: Narrow escape, no escape.
Disclaimer: Thank you, Professor Tolkien.
Archive: my drabble site.
Notes: Movieverse. Originally written for lotr100, encouraged by cruisedirector, also posted to sons_of_gondor.


Breaking: take two

Had I time I would drop from relief. So close! Only Frodo's desperate trust prevented my fall. Alone between the Ringbearer and Saruman's horde, I seek the press of battle to keep his words of Boromir from breaking my heart. But it is not enough.

Only now do I know Boromir truly, at the Council, at Caradhas. In Lórien? How determined he was not to let me see! Where is he now? I dread what I must do if the Ring has him still, but no more than I fear his reckless, despairing pride if it does not.

His horn!

~*~

Suspension

A second horn call. Still so far! I do not think about what I will find. I dare not. The Uruks have moved off as though summoned, leaving the wood eerily still around my headlong rush. I force vain speculation on their going from my frantic mind and run.

Here another battle began. Foul corpses, sword hewn, and a familiar knife handle lead me on. I track the path of the encounter, searching light and shade, looking for color, red of velvet or blood, movement, the flash of a blade, life. I see none.

No, wait. There. And there. No!

~*~

Three Arrows

Still battle dazed, I stare at the hideous creature I have slain. How came I here? Where are the others?

Three black arrows crudely fletched rise in my mind. Memory staggers me. I look round wildly and find those arrows killing my comrade beneath a tree.

Another lost! This one lost. The quest is ruined for I am lost.

His eyes burn as I touch his too pale face, but it is not Ring madness. Almost I wish it were.

I master my despair. I will have time, too much, for grief and guilt and doubt, but he has none.

~*~

Knotted

I will not weep, though your reaching hand seems to pierce my chest and wrap round my heart. You need my strength, not tears, to feel my love and touch and trust as I feel yours, to grasp your sword as you die.

What do I need? Only to hold you and sob until we are both welcomed into this earth and thought and grief are forgotten. But it is not my fate to rest here as it is not yours to depart. I am your brother, have been your captain. You name me king and so I will be.

~*~

Comments

[cruisedirector]

You already know what I think but...yeah. Again, reading them all in a row. Oww in all the best ways.

[mrkinch.livejournal.com]

*whispers* a friend gave me an idea for an epilogue, if I can make a go of it.

Oww in all the best ways.
One of these days I'll write a bit of fluff, dammit!*g*
Thank you so much.

[cruisedirector]

Yay! Epilogue! No fluff necessary but I hope Aragorn finds some small measure of happiness!

[ryhasso.livejournal.com]

They're beautiful, all of them.

I especially love this line: I dread what I must do if the Ring has him still, but no more than I fear his reckless, despairing pride if it does not.

[mrkinch.livejournal.com]

I'm so happy you picked up on that! Realizing how Aragorn would expect Boromir to respond to his own actions led me much further into the characters that I had initially gone.

I'm glad you enjoyed this series, and thank you for letting me know.