Title: The Long Dark
Author: Elizabeth Wilde
Series: none; sequel to "A Gift"
Disclaimer: I don't own them, unfortunately. I am merely borrowing Tolkien's characters to toy with their emotions.
Distribution: Any Ringfest stuff, those who already archive my fic (Library of Moria, etc),
www dot biteyourtongue dot net slash wilde [my site]
Summary: Frodo seeks comfort in Moria.
Pairing: Boromir/Frodo, suggested Aragorn/Frodo and Aragorn/Legolas
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: This story was meant to be long. And... different. It ended up being nothing whatsoever like my original NC-17, potential threesome idea. Still, I'm happy with the end result, and hopefully you will be as well.
Completed: April 9th, 2003
Boromir threw down his pack and sank to the cold stone that formed Moria's floor. Every day, it
seemed, drew the Fellowship further from each other and closer to the darkness that reached out for them from every corner. The hobbits alone remained bonded though he watched Frodo shrinking slowly from their warm smiles and comforting words. From time to time, desperate for a more solid outlook amidst the false optimism, Frodo turned to Gandalf. The wizard seemed constantly distracted, however, and Aragorn shouldered ever more the burden of holding everyone together. Legolas sought solace in the hobbits as if absorbing their bright energy kept back Moria's brightness while Gimli thrived even with the tragedy that had so far greeted them.
They traveled mostly in silence save light banter between Merry and Pippin and Sam's constant inquiries about Frodo's well-being. For his part, Boromir simply watched. He longed for the stolen moments shared in the past and cursed his role in ending them. Even with the Ring clouding everything, he could see small things: a glance too sharp, a word too quickly spoken, a gentle touch twisted into something patronizing. /Fool. You risk losing him for the whispers. Power, glory, peace for Gondor... lies. You would lose his love for lies./ Seeing Frodo beg off Sam's offer of food with some thin excuse, Boromir rose again. His very bones ached with cold and weariness, but the opportunity to speak alone with Frodo carried greater import than tending to such discomforts.
When he spotted Boromir approaching some minutes later, Frodo looked up through tired blue eyes. "No light... there is no light. I thought of drawing out Gladriel's phial, but it seems... it seems so unhealthy here!" A near-sob escaped the hobbit, and he drew his knees up to his chest.
For all his years, Frodo looked terribly young and frightened thus, and Boromir felt his chest tighten. He fell to his knees at Frodo's side and blessed now the darkness that hid them from the view of the Fellowship. "For tonight, love, let me stay at your side."
Frodo whimpered and threw himself into Boromir's arms. He detested the gnawing weakness that drew all resolve from him and wondered offhandedly if it came from within his tired mind or from the Dark Lord. "For tonight," he echoed, "fight the dark with me." Shaking hands worked at Boromir's tunic, then thought better of nudity so close to their fellows. "Just... hold me."
The words alone ripped the thought of anything beyond Frodo's fear from Boromir's mind. "Let me succeed where I have failed. Let me ease your burden instead of adding to it." He drew the hobbit close and whispered, "Is it the darkness alone which disturbs you so this night?"
For several moments the hobbit held firmly to his silence, then ventured, "I went to find Strider."
Boromir's heart constricted once more, and it took great willpower to keep his voice even when he finally spoke again. "And did you find him?"
"Yes... with Legolas." Frodo shifted uneasily. "Legolas... offered himself. They spoke in elvish, and at first I could not understand their words. Strider... he... he said that he could not so betray Arwen, that he held her too dear to share his love with another..."
"And so you came here," Boromir finished. "I would that I commanded enough of your affection to fill his place." Over time Boromir had convinced himself that the hobbit's heart held room for other than Gondor's would-be king. /Fool to think that you could ever replace Aragorn in Frodo's love. Who has defended him through this journey even when your resolve failed?/
"I don't want you to take his place. I don't want a replacement, I... if I didn't want you here, I would have told you to leave," Frodo said firmly. "Please, let's not fight. Not here. Already there is darkness enough to skew everything. Soon... we do not know what still may come. For now, I would like to think we will pass through this endless night without incident, that we will move on toward Mordor and that, in the end, it will somehow end in victory. Help me believe it, Boromir." Again Frodo settled himself against the man's chest and sighed. "For tonight, let us forget."
"As you wish." Without another word, Boromir closed his arms around Frodo's slight form and kissed the unruly dark curls. "Sleep well tonight and tomorrow we will face the dark again."
Half-asleep already, the hobbit whispered, "It's always dark," before falling silent, his breath soon even and slow as sheer exhaustion took its toll.
Boromir leaned back against a cold stone wall and stared ahead. Sleep eluded him each night save a few precious hours, just enough to tempt him with real rest. Even now with Frodo in his arms, the very idea of drifting off was an ethereal dream. Instead he stared into the blackness of Moria and tried to call up the memory light.