Disclaimer: I don't own these characters (well, except Marin, but I don't really care about him). Oh, and I don't own the Moulin Rouge dialogue either.

The King's Braid

Chapter Four

Aragorn stretched and rolled over. Still half-asleep, he frowned. He shouldn't have been able to roll over. There should have been another body in the way. Opening his eyes, Aragorn looked blearily at the empty space where Boromir should have been lying. Where was he? The sheets on that side of the bed were cold, so Aragorn deduced he must have been gone some while. Groaning, Aragorn realised it must be late. This was confirmed by the fact that the sun was not streaming through the window, which it would have been had it been the traditional time to wake up, since the window of the bedroom faced due east. As Aragorn stretched again, the rustle of paper caught his attention. It was then that he noticed that Boromir had left a note for him on his pillow.

'Morning sleepyhead! Or should that be afternoon? Have gone to inspect the aftermath of yesterday's celebrations. Will be back in time for lunch, if you can be bothered to rouse yourself for such an insignificant act as eating. See you later.

Boromir.'

Smiling wryly, Aragorn climbed out of bed, pulling on a robe and crossing to the window. As Steward of Gondor, Boromir always seemed to have something to do, whether it was some kind of inspection, reading reports, or keeping the army in training. As King, all Aragorn seemed to do was attend incredibly boring councils, and be a public figure for the people of his kingdom. Aragorn knew that in reality he was much more than that, but the fact that Boromir had managed to rise at a respectable hour, even after last night's activities, made Aragorn feel a tiny bit guilty that he hadn't got up also and helped.

It was still at least an hour until lunch. Aragorn pulled on some clothes and went down the hall to his and Boromir's study. He had some correspondence from his official in Amroth that needed answering. However, when he sat down at his desk, he noticed that a new letter had appeared on his pile of paperwork. Thinking it was another note from Boromir, Aragorn unfolded it, smiling and wondering what new insults Boromir had thought up to make him feel even more guilty about sleeping late. However, a quick glance at the note showed him that it was not from Boromir. The style of writing was particularly neutral, and as Aragorn perused its contents, he could see why. This letter was clearly from someone who did not want to be identified.

'My Liege (and even though they were written down Aragorn could detect the heavy sarcasm behind the words).

I was very impressed by your oratorical fireworks yesterday. As a standard 'King's address' they worked very well. However, I feel I must inform you that they did not inspire my colleagues and I to any change of heart. I'm afraid our feelings on the subject of your monarchy are still in opposition to yours. In fact, after yesterday's little performance, they are even more so. You will no doubt have heard vague rumours of threats against your Steward and lover. Well, it seems that it's about time that I made these rumours a little more solid. My associates and I feel that while the Lord Boromir is present, the force that the two of you present together is not conducive to our plans. Therefore, we feel that he should be disposed of as soon as possible. It would be prudent of you, your Majesty, to get rid of him, or else we shall be forced to take more drastic action. And one more thing - do not mention your reasons to him. We are well aware that if he knew the true situation, Boromir would insist on staying to protect you, and we cannot have that. We trust that you will follow our instructions to the letter, and are eagerly awaiting the result.'

As Aragorn reached the end of the letter, he fell backwards in his chair, the piece of paper dropping from his numb fingers and fluttering to the floor. One half of his mind was amazed at the audacity of whoever written the letter, and was also partly wondering how it had gotten into his study. But the other half of his mind, and the one that was rapidly becoming the strongest, was screaming at him that Boromir was in danger. Aragorn could not seem to rouse himself to do anything about it, however. He had small doubt that if he did, the course of action implied by the letter would be carried out.

Aragorn was startled out of his misery by a tap on the door. Leaping out of his chair he scooped up the letter from the floor, crumpling it into his pocket even as he called out "Enter" in none too steady a voice. Marin came in, and Aragorn felt an immediate, if slight, sense of relief. After Boromir, Marin was his most trusted advisor, and if ever Aragorn needed advice it was now.

Marin, in turn, noticed immediately that something was amiss. "My Lord, what is wrong?" he asked quickly.

Aragorn explained everything, showing Marin the letter to drive home the full force of the situation. "Please help me, Marin," he pleaded, not caring how much desperation he was showing.

Marin paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He looked shocked at this development, but in reality it was not entirely unexpected to him. "You are a good and strong King, Aragorn," he began. "But you have one weak point – and that is Boromir. It is obvious to everyone who has seen you together, including most of the population of this city, how much you value each other. And this means that anyone who wants to threaten you knows that the best way to do it is through Boromir."

"I know what you say is true," replied Aragorn. "But what should I do?"

Marin knew that Aragorn was clinging on to a forlorn hope that there would be some way out of the situation, but there was none that he could see. "It is a hard thing for me to say, your Majesty," he said slowly. "But you have only one choice that I can see. You must take the 'advice' of the letter, and send Boromir away. It is the only way to keep him safe."

Aragorn's shoulders sagged in defeat. "I know," he whispered.

"There is more," continued Marin. "This letter says that you must not inform Boromir why you are sending him away. However, there is no mission that you could send him on at this moment that could not be carried out by a lesser member of your court. Therefore you must give him a more sufficient reason to leave."

"What are you suggesting?" asked Aragorn.

"There is only one reason powerful enough for you to wish him gone from Minas Tirith," replied Marin.

"And what is that?" said Aragorn.

"Make him believe you don't love him."

Aragorn's head snapped up. "What!" he gasped, unable to comprehend what Marin had just said. "No, I can't do it. I won't do it."

"You must," said Marin steadily. "There is no other way. If Boromir believes you do not care for him, not only will it seem plausible for you to be removing him from your sight, but he will want to leave, to get away from the scene of his…humiliation. You must hurt him, Aragorn. Hurt him to save him."

Aragorn clutched at the back of a chair for support. The room was spinning around him and the floor was swaying under his feet. He couldn't do that to Boromir, no matter how great the danger. Besides, Boromir would never believe it.

But Aragorn knew that he could. And that he would make Boromir believe it. For he saw that Marin was right. There was no other way. Boromir's life would be in great peril if he stayed in Minas Tirith, and the only way to get him to leave without telling him the truth was to cast him off, tell him the most important thing in his life was a sham.

"All right," whispered Aragorn.

Marin needed no more answer than that. "I shall send one of your guards to find Boromir," he said. "I believe he is in the stables." So saying, he exited to the room, leaving Aragorn to compose himself for the dreadful task he was about to undertake.