A/N: The idea for this story came from a line in Moulin Rouge – 'Hurt him to save him', so thanks are also due to Baz Luhrmann and co.
The King's Braid
Chapter One
Aragorn pushed open the door to the study he shared with Boromir. It was almost a year since the destruction of the Ring and his coronation as King of Gondor and Arnor, but Aragorn didn't think he would ever get used to the boredom that was a result of official council meetings. Today's was a spectacular example. He had sat at the head of the table trying not to fall asleep while his councillors debated a farming dispute over land in Lebennin. He knew he should have paid more attention – as King it was his duty to see that all his people were happy. But sometimes it was hard to be interested in something with which he personally had nothing to do. The only interesting part of the meeting had come at the end, when Marin, his senior councillor, had draw him aside…
"My Lord, I have grave tidings," said Marin. "More rumours of unrest in the city have reached me, and I fear that this disturbance may escalate into something more dangerous."
"Your words grieve me," replied Aragorn. "I see no reason for the people of Minas Tirith to be unhappy, especially in this time of release from such a terrible evil."
"These people are believed to be those who were staunch supporters of the Lord Denethor before he died," continued Marin. "It is said that they share his views on your claim to the throne, making it out to be false, and you a usurper."
Aragorn sighed. He knew he could not please everyone all of the time, but he had thought his claim to the kingship had been accepted by everyone. His relationship with Boromir added an extra dimension to the problem. Although Boromir was the son of Denethor, the rumours also said that he was accused of siding with Aragorn, when he should have been upholding his father's views. Indeed, previously to the quest to destroy the Ring, Boromir had shared his father's opinions on the resurrection of the Kings of old and Aragorn's claim to the throne. But his experiences on his journey from Rivendell to Minas Tirith, and his new found relationship with Aragorn had shown him that these opinions were wrong, and he now supported and believed in Aragorn wholeheartedly.
Aragorn thought of all these things as he entered his study. But he wished to escape these thoughts, and there was only one person who could help him with that.
Boromir sat at his desk by the window, his back to the door, absorbed in a military report. Compared to Aragorn's rich court attire, he was simply dressed in breeches and a loose shirt, and his hair hung down his back in a style known as the King's Braid. Seeing this, Aragorn's face twisted into something that was halfway between a smile and a grimace. Boromir had let his hair grow longer at Aragorn's request. But in order to keep it out of his face while he worked, he often tied it back. Aragorn, however, preferred it to hang loose, and often said so.
Crossing the room, Aragorn gave Boromir's braid a short tug by way of a greeting. Boromir mumbled something that sounded like a reply. Another twenty or thirty seconds passed, and then Boromir flung the paper he had been perusing on to a pile at one end of his desk.
"Finished!" he declared. Looking up, he noticed the half-scowl on Aragorn's face. "What troubles you?" he asked, concerned.
Aragorn gave the braid another tug by way of an explanation, elaborating with the words: "it seems you have failed to abide by your King's wishes yet again."
Boromir laughed. "You know I would do anything to please you, my Lord," he replied. "But if you wish such dull reports to be read thoroughly, then I must have as few distractions as possible."
Aragorn grinned ruefully. "Ah well," he sighed. "At least it makes you easier to control." He demonstrated his point by laying hold of the braid once again, and pulling Boromir's head back, allowing Aragorn to lean in and kiss him.
The kiss went on for some time, but when the two men finally drew apart, Boromir could see that Aragorn still looked worn and preoccupied. "Be serious now, dearest," he said. "You are troubled. Will you not tell me what is the matter?"
Aragorn sighed again. "It is the same problem," he admitted unhappily. "More rumours of unrest have reached me." He hated telling Boromir these problems. If they had just pertained to him, Aragorn wouldn't have minded. But Boromir was also a factor. He had not seemed affected by the rumours when Aragorn had first told him of them, but Aragorn knew that Boromir was upset by the situation and, in some small way, believed himself responsible for the disturbances affecting the city of Minas Tirith. It was nonsense of course, and for Aragorn it made the situation a lot worse.
Boromir rose from his chair, and walked over to Aragorn, who had moved to the other window to gaze out at the city. He placed a hand on Aragorn's shoulder, drawing him into an embrace. "Do not worry," he whispered softly. "You will solve this problem – you always do. I have the utmost confidence that whatever needs to be done, you will do it."