a/n: I don't own these characters, and make no money from my shameless exploitation of them. =)
Legolas was not a young elf, with only a handful of centuries under his belt. He was not an elf-maiden, who always seemed to be the ones falling in love with human males. He was not at all the sort of elf who would swoon over the particular human male in question, who was actually above par for being aggressive, unrefined, and uncouth. To sum up, Legolas was absolutely not an elf with an insatiable desire for That Man.
Legolas nodded his head to himself, satisfied with this chain of reasoning; however, his righteous feeling vanished after a few short seconds. He could not imagine how this had occurred. He, Legolas, was wise, and beyond these sorts of ephemeral dawdlings. He was beautiful, and had had his pick of lithe, agreeable elves in his younger centuries. Furthermore, he was on a dangerous, terrifyingly serious errand with this man, and the Fellowship could ill afford any distractions or interpersonal crises. And this man, from what Legolas had seen of him, was trouble for Frodo, for the Fellowship, and therefore for Middle Earth as a whole. So naturally Legolas had become perfectly entranced by him, right from the beginning.
Perhaps Legolas had spent too many of his nights with slender elven archers. Perhaps he had forgotten the attraction of the rough, the earthy, the human. Repressed desires never die, they just sublimate. And when they erupt, as, finally, they must, they will seek out their most extreme manifestations. And a wise, elegant Elf will fall for: Boromir of Gondor.
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The Company was trooping across the hills and mountains, approaching the Pass of Caradhras, when it began. Initially, Legolas had noticed the man's habit of making eye contact, and then keeping it just a fraction of a second too long for propriety. It took a few days for the fact to penetrate that Legolas was the only one toward whom Boromir directed this unbalancing glance. Curious, Legolas countered by allowing Boromir to notice him watching, and then maintaining the briefest moment of eye contact. Boromir stopped making eye contact with Legolas altogether.
The Company was trekking through Moria when the situation suddenly intensified. One afternoon, probably the third day of the dark -- although these designations had little meaning in the mines without day, Legolas clung to them -- he stood among the others during a rest, inspecting his arrows for moisture damage in the dense wetness of the mines. He was engrossed in his task until he suddenly noticed that the others were gathering their packs and preparing to resume the long march. He moved quickly to collect the arrows at his feet, stepping backward and colliding with Boromir, who had apparently been standing unusually close behind him, and stepping on his foot. Legolas, of course, would have been off-balance only for a split second, but Boromir's hand shot out to grasp Legolas at the elbow, "supporting" him and holding him still.
"I'm sorry!" Legolas blurted very quickly. He made as if to move away and free his elbow, not to mention Boromir's foot, but Boromir did not pull his hand away. He still stood behind Legolas, close enough that Legolas could feel his warmth quite pleasantly. Legolas turned his head to look at Boromir, and saw that the man was looking directly at him -- for what felt like the first time in months -- and not moving away. Still unbalanced internally, if not physically, Legolas smiled somewhat nervously and laughed.
Boromir smiled, finally. "The one on the bottom is mine," he said, in low tone with a hint of amusement. Legolas could feel the length of Boromir's arm where it pressed along his own arm, and the man's body where it didn't quite exactly touch his own, but heated the small space between them and filled it with what felt almost like a magnetic pull.
"What?" Legolas asked. It took a moment for the actual words to find space in his mind, which had been sent whirling by Boromir's intimate timbre. "Oh. Yes," he agreed, and laughed, and now found the ability to remove his elbow from Boromir's grip and move away, though he instantly regretted the loss. He walked away, with what he hoped was a light, unstressed gait, and rejoined the preparations for departure.