Rating: PG
Pairing: Boromir/Legolas
Summary: Stream-of-consciousness-type exploration of what two men from utterly different worlds might think of each other, and their prospects.
A/N: Well, this is my first effort ever at LotR slash, and, well, please don't hurt me? This is Movie-canon(I guess you could call it), set after the Fellowship leaves Lothlorien, but before Amon Hen. Please, please give feedback, I'm new to this, and if anything jumps out at you as glaringly off, please forgive.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Characters belong to the estate of Tolkien and to
Christopher Tolkien. Not making any money. Do not sue.
Feedback: kitty@swbell.net
Distribution: Pleaded for. Tell me so I can go look and jump up and down. :)
-----
He is the worst of men. He is proud, arrogant, dirty. He hates, he covets, he bleeds. He is loud, brash... He is the worst of all that it is to be a man.
I thought I knew men. Estel is a man, a great man, a king. Yet he holds within his breast the heart of the Evenstar, as she holds his. He knows our ways; he is good man. But yet... He is not as much a man as this man is.
Why can I not purge him from my thoughts? The others sleep, I should be guarding, yet he still haunts me. The breadth of his shoulders, the strength in his hands, the very smell of him pulls at me... Makes me feel the rush of days, as surely he must. How can he hold within himself such pride, such assurance, when he must feel time, pulling him ever closer to the earth's embrace?
Why does he pull me so? Why do I wonder how he would touch? Could he possibly covet me, as I do him? Surely he cannot, I am not enough, too frail, maybe, not a woman. But I would give... I would give in, to feel his breath on my skin, his hands on my body, his voice - so rough, harsh, commanding - whisper want in my ear. I want to feel the world as deeply as he, to feel him deeply.
But I cannot have the Steward's son.
----
Why can I not sleep? Why do eyes like the sky haunt me? Why?
He is vain, wise, above me. I am dirty, with sweat, and blood, and fear. He cannot know fear, he is above that, above time, to live forever. He must love beauty, all that is fair and pure, all that I am not and can not be. I am sullied, with hate and want and time.
Maybe he yearns for the Guard who watched, under the golden leaves. He was fair, and deadly with his grace. Or perhaps Arwen - yes, surely her, for all that Aragorn keeps her heart on a chain - she is fair enough for three beauties, and wise with all the years that she does not show.
Surely he cannot want me, when all I know is want. What I would not give! I would give my father, my country over to Isildur's heir, to hold the grace of him in my arms, hands in his hair entwined, to glimpse immortality in his eyes.
What I would not give for one glance, one touch, one smile. Surely his smile is every bit as bright as those trees of gold, with twice their worth and more. What I would not do, to be worthy of what he might give.
But I am just a man...
I cannot have the Eldar's son.
Pairing: Boromir/Legolas
Summary: Stream-of-consciousness-type exploration of what two men from utterly different worlds might think of each other, and their prospects.
A/N: Well, this is my first effort ever at LotR slash, and, well, please don't hurt me? This is Movie-canon(I guess you could call it), set after the Fellowship leaves Lothlorien, but before Amon Hen. Please, please give feedback, I'm new to this, and if anything jumps out at you as glaringly off, please forgive.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Characters belong to the estate of Tolkien and to
Christopher Tolkien. Not making any money. Do not sue.
Feedback: kitty@swbell.net
Distribution: Pleaded for. Tell me so I can go look and jump up and down. :)
-----
He is the worst of men. He is proud, arrogant, dirty. He hates, he covets, he bleeds. He is loud, brash... He is the worst of all that it is to be a man.
I thought I knew men. Estel is a man, a great man, a king. Yet he holds within his breast the heart of the Evenstar, as she holds his. He knows our ways; he is good man. But yet... He is not as much a man as this man is.
Why can I not purge him from my thoughts? The others sleep, I should be guarding, yet he still haunts me. The breadth of his shoulders, the strength in his hands, the very smell of him pulls at me... Makes me feel the rush of days, as surely he must. How can he hold within himself such pride, such assurance, when he must feel time, pulling him ever closer to the earth's embrace?
Why does he pull me so? Why do I wonder how he would touch? Could he possibly covet me, as I do him? Surely he cannot, I am not enough, too frail, maybe, not a woman. But I would give... I would give in, to feel his breath on my skin, his hands on my body, his voice - so rough, harsh, commanding - whisper want in my ear. I want to feel the world as deeply as he, to feel him deeply.
But I cannot have the Steward's son.
----
Why can I not sleep? Why do eyes like the sky haunt me? Why?
He is vain, wise, above me. I am dirty, with sweat, and blood, and fear. He cannot know fear, he is above that, above time, to live forever. He must love beauty, all that is fair and pure, all that I am not and can not be. I am sullied, with hate and want and time.
Maybe he yearns for the Guard who watched, under the golden leaves. He was fair, and deadly with his grace. Or perhaps Arwen - yes, surely her, for all that Aragorn keeps her heart on a chain - she is fair enough for three beauties, and wise with all the years that she does not show.
Surely he cannot want me, when all I know is want. What I would not give! I would give my father, my country over to Isildur's heir, to hold the grace of him in my arms, hands in his hair entwined, to glimpse immortality in his eyes.
What I would not give for one glance, one touch, one smile. Surely his smile is every bit as bright as those trees of gold, with twice their worth and more. What I would not do, to be worthy of what he might give.
But I am just a man...
I cannot have the Eldar's son.