Note: This fic is rated R for a good reason. This is a revised version of 'Falling Tears'. None of these characters are mine! Shounen ai between Legolas/Aragorn. Elvish speech is in ''. Sorry, I knocked the confrontation back one chapter. Next chapter, I swear!

Bitter Rivals

Part 8

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Boromir
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I wanted to leave, but I could not. Something was forcing me to stay. I'd try walking away, but I was compelled to remain. I was so cursed. Why was this happening to me? The one person I would find worthy of ruling Gondor despised me thoroughly.

I disgusted myself. How can this be? I'm the son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor. I should have more control over myself than this. More control over my actions towards the beautiful Elf, who had made his decision. Legolas would no longer willingly submit to me. Yet I wanted him, so much that it hurt just to look at him.

This cannot continue.

Watching him and Aragorn kiss had nearly driven me into a killing frenzy. For a few moments, I'd actually decided to kill Aragorn to take the Elf back.

Cruel words were spoken from me to Legolas, who again showed me his compassion.

Damn it, why did he have to be so perfect? Legolas is the light; compassion, pity, understanding, and uncaring how much it had hurt him when he'd submitted to me. None could ask more of a friend. Wise, ethereal, grace, beauty… So much more than a Man could ever hope for.

I was the dark; jealous, self-serving, uncaring how I'd hurt him. Rough to his soft, fair skin… I was not unpleasant to look at, however. But I knew why he'd chosen Aragorn.

Aragorn was everything I was not. Noble, strong, self-sacrificing, just as Legolas was. My rival took most of the watches, and slept little when another was on watch. His patience seemed endless, as he protected everyone in the Company. Caring little of how much the odds were against us, he took charge and had not been as bad a leader as I had thought. Aragorn had won my grudging respect, even as I had lost his.

I was supposed to be the strong one. Not the heir of Isildur. And I had failed. The combination of the One Ring's influence and the temptation of the Elf had proved my own downfall. Pathetic of me, I thought. I was not some young boy, whose urges and needs controlled them constantly. Yet they did so now.

Soon, Aragorn will confront me. Very soon, I knew. We would fight over Legolas' honor, whatever was left of it. I was certain that Legolas himself would not know of our fight, unless his Elven hearing let him hear it.

I finally decided to return to the camp. It was better than this cowardice of hiding and waiting.

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Legolas
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I sat in the camp next to Aragorn, as I slowly mended some arrows. Our eyes would meet knowingly, while he sharpened his sword and I fixed my broken arrows. A secret smile would be shared, before we turned back to our work.

The Hobbits were eating again, and Gimli polished his axe. They didn't seem to notice the looks Aragorn and I gave each other. We were all ready to go, and had packed our things. But Boromir was not here, so we were forced to wait for him. I did not want to think of him, for I had not told Aragorn.

I was barely able to believe it. Not only had Aragorn claimed me as his, but he'd said that he cared for me the way I cared for him. I was beyond the hope I had brimming in my heart. Memories of the kisses we shared were constantly in my thoughts.

'By Elbereth!' I cried, as the knife I was using slipped and cut open my palm. I'd been watching Aragorn instead of paying attention to what I was doing. I looked at my bloody hand in shock.

A slightly rough hand reached out and caught it, before grey eyes inspected it carefully. I brought my face up to look at Aragorn, who had a slightly amused expression on his face. A blush appeared on my face, as we looked at each other for a few moments. I felt like a was a mere five hundred years, instead of my nearly three thousand.

'What happened?' Aragorn questioned, as he applied pressure to it.

A tingle went through me, at the feel of his hand on mine. 'My knife missed my arrow,' I said. 'I do not believe it is too bad. It does not hurt.' I kept my voice normal.

Aragorn smiled slyly. 'An Elf missing his target?' he jested.

'Tis not unheard of,' I retorted calmly. I will not let him get to me… I will not show him that a simple touch is enough to make me act like a child again.

Aragorn simply bandaged my hand carefully, and kept the amused look on his face, as he continued holding my hand. He absentmindedly massaged it, and a thrill went through me. I merely raised an eyebrow at him, and challenged him to tell me what was so funny.

The sounds of someone approaching caught our attention. I schooled my face into a neutral mask, and Aragorn frowned as he saw my closed expression.

I knew that he did not understand why I did not want Boromir killed. I neither disliked or liked Boromir, though it would probably be easier if I did so. My father had instructed me on the weakness of Men, and had taught me to show compassion and understanding, instead of anger and impatience.

I was also aware of the effects that Elven beauty could have on a Man's mind. That, combined with the Ring, would be too much for anyone to bear.

Boromir entered the camp, and wordlessly looked at me, before his eyes saw Aragorn holding my hand. His anger was apparent, before the cruelty entered his dark eyes once more.

"Whore," he mouthed at me.

I froze, and met his gaze neutrally. I pressed my lips together tightly, as I kept him from seeing how those words hurt. But my face had gone pale.

Boromir sneered and mouthed it again. Then it happened.

Aragorn growled and jumped to his feet, releasing my hand. I gasped as he struck Boromir hard across the face.

"Never call him a whore, Boromir, for I know words I could call you that would earn you the disrespect in the Fellowship," Aragorn hissed, just loud enough for both Boromir and myself to hear.

"What? He can't stand up for himself?" Boromir scoffed, not caring that Gimli, Sam, Pippin, Merry, and Frodo had come over and were watching curiously. "Are you his caretaker, Aragorn?" His dark eyes ran over me seductively. "Legolas is quite pretty to look at when he screams."

Aragorn had had enough; I could see that much. The one I loved was furious, and it lent him strength, as he reached out and instantly twisted Boromir's right arm behind the other Man's back.

"We are going to talk," Aragorn snarled.

I finally unfroze and stood. "Aragorn, no! You cannot-"

Aragorn looked at me. "I will not kill him, but I will teach him a lesson." He then turned to Gimli. "Guard the camp and everyone else. I do not want Legolas to follow."

Gimli didn't understand, but nodded.

Aragorn roughly took Boromir away, and I went to go after him. I was certain that one of them was going to get severely hurt. I had every confidence in Aragorn, but the Ring made Boromir stronger. And I knew that that Boromir would not fight fair, as Aragorn did.

Gimli stepped into my path, and shook his head. "You heard what he said, Elf. You are not to follow."

"Son of Gloin, if you think you can keep an Elf here against his will, you are mistaken," I said. I leapt straight up, and caught the branch of a tree, not caring how it hurt my slightly injured palm. After pulling myself onto it, I began running through the treetops, glad that I had my bow, and my unbroken arrows in the quiver on my back. I'd only taken out the broken ones. My short sword hung at my side.

Gimli and the others were following me; I could hear the snapping of twigs and branches, as I followed where I believed that Aragorn was taking Boromir.

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Aragorn
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I was certain that Legolas was following. Not even a dwarf could keep an Elf where he did not wish to be. So I had made a trail earlier, and I took Boromir somewhere else.

The other Man twisted in my grip, muttering obscenities to me, which I ignored.

How dare he call Legolas a whore when Boromir had forced himself onto the Elf? I was beyond furious to a cold anger.

I finally released the other Man, and shoved him forward.

Boromir turned and glared at me. "I was just stating the obvious, heir of Isildur. Why are you so angry?"

I slapped him hard on both sides of his face. "Never call him a whore, Boromir. You aren't even worthy to know him."

"He offered himself," Boromir smirked. "I intend to collect what he offered."

Anduril was drawn before I knew it, hissing as it emerged from its sheath. I pointed it directly at Boromir.

"You try my patience, son of Denethor. I told you to stay away from him, and I meant it. Legolas is mine, now, and that is how he wishes it to be." My voice was cold and deliberate, leaving no room for an argument.

Boromir drew his own sword. "Then he shall not be yours for long, son of Arathorn!" His sword sliced at me, and I blocked it with Anduril.

Our eyes met, with anger burning in both of our faces.

To be continued