Author's note: So we've finally gotten around to completing the next couple of chapters. This chapter was written entirely by my lovely co- author, Jenn, so please sent her lovely comments at jholsh1towson.edu.

This is a slashy chapter, so if you don't like guys kissing guys (because it's gross, ew!), then please, I suggest you turn back now. If you enjoy reading that kind of stuff, then by all means, please read ahead!

Feedback is always welcomed and much appreciated. Please keep flames to yourself. Thank you.


"Girion, you are not to report for duty today," Boromir said evenly as he pushed open his friend's door so that it bounced against the small round table by the entrance, causing a wooden plate and cup to fall onto the stone floor with a resounding clatter.

Girion startled from his bed, taking on a defensive position, but relaxed once he pieced together Boromir's face through sleep-fogged vision. "Oh, it's you." Boromir shot him a dark glance, eyes seeming to smolder with an unquenchable blue-green fire. Something is amiss. And how convenient for him to show up now, right on the day I told myself to seek him out. "Why haven't I got to report this morning?" he asked, yawning and scratching his tangle of black curls. "And what is the time?" he added.

"It's just after dawn. Don't ask questions, just stay here, will you?" Boromir said quickly as he grabbed a chair from the table he hit, without troubling himself to pick up the dish and cup that he'd knocked over. He sat the chair down at the foot of Girion's bed, which was low to the ground and covered in a thin mattress, worn flat by years without replacement or refilling. Boromir's head was cradled in his hands, his fingers worked through his chestnut locks that fell over his face in a haphazard but appealing manner. "Gods, I've had enough of all of this..." he muttered, perhaps not aloud on purpose.

Girion scooted forward, legs crossed, and sat on his bed near where Boromir was brooding. He raised a hand and hesitantly placed it on his friend's strong shoulder, lightly squeezing. "What? You've have enough of what?" he asked, voice soothing, gently urging, and clearly drowsy. In all the years that Girion had known the steward's eldest offspring, who was a mere five years his junior, he could not recall a time when Boromir looked more distressed. "Come, you know I'll listen. I always have."

"Where do I even begin?!" Boromir asked loudly, suddenly rising and nearly knocking Girion backwards with the power behind his words and abrupt movement. He began to pace furiously around the small hamlet, in and out of the doorway that separated Girion's sleeping quarters from where he kept his foodstuffs and gear, as well as where he did all of his cooking.

Girion rose, feeling rather annoyed and growing quite tired of his friend's vagueness. Bravely, he grabbed Boromir's wrist and stayed his nervous circling, causing the younger man to halt abruptly mid-step and nearly keel over. But Girion caught him, clasping his upper arms and brought him around so that they were face to face. "Now stop it!" he ordered sternly, shaking Boromir ungently. "Though you may be the highest ranking man in Gondor save for Lord Denethor, you do not have leave to come in to a sleepy guard's hamlet, ranting and raving and pacing about without nary a crumb of explanation! Now please, my lord, would you mind sitting down and pulling yourself together and then giving me a reason for this spell?" Girion's words were sharp, cutting, but just what Boromir needed.

Gathering up his bearings, Boromir let himself plop down heavily on Girion's bed. "Where do I even begin?" he asked again, sounding defeated and lost. Bringing his watery gaze up to Girion's drowsy one, he said in broken tones, "I've missed your company for so long, Girion..."

Girion smiled sleepily, a smile which turned into a yawn. Covering his mouth, Girion took his place next to Boromir, causing their muscled thighs to touch. There was palpable warmth there, and both men felt it: the tingles beginning in their lower bodies and slowly trickling out to their extremities. Both sighed in unison, shuddering. "I've missed yours, too, Boromir," Girion whispered, using Boromir's first name for the first time in ages. It was something he saved for when they were alone. He continued, pulling away from the other man scarce inches, saying "But your missing doesn't appear to be the reason for your calamity. Anyway, you have been obligated, and rightfully so, to spend time with young Faramir. He is at that age when a big brother is most imperative to have."

Boromir sighed deeply and leaned back, supporting his weight on one hand. It gave Girion a pleasant view of his lean torso, muscles stretched and shaped perfectly from years of training and use in the line of duty. Boromir's deep voice, however, snatched Girion back into the present dilemma. "And alas, the very issue involves Faramir... Yet I fear to tell even you, Girion. Indeed the nature of it all makes me feel ashamed; I would not dare to risk losing a friend as dear as you because of a matter such as... this," he finished lamely with a vague toss of his hand.

Girion sucked his teeth, thinking, fitting together the tidbits of information littered in Boromir's words and actions along with all of the secrets that Faramir had shared with him ever since they first became friends less than a year ago. Staring at his hands, fingers laced together chastely, Girion simply said "You and Faramir are sexually involved, I know."

The look on Boromir's face was utterly indescribable. Gaping and gasping in disbelief, he cried "How -- What?! -- But -- Girion! How did you know?!" He sputtered, quite aghast at the clairvoyance the guard seemed to possess.

Girion soothed Boromir's babblings with a finger pressed to his lips. "Shh. Faramir informed me. He and I are friends, you know."

"No, I did not know, but now that I do, I feel much more at ease!" Boromir sighed, regaining composure of himself. Suddenly, he froze. "...What did he tell you?"

Girion yawned again, feeling tiredness wash over him anew as it appeared there would be no further revelations during this visit. "He said that you were just closer, you know, sort of like you and I are," he stated matter- of-factly, words rolling effortlessly off his tongue.

"We haven't slept together, Girion," Boromir said evenly. "That's just the thing."

Girion cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" This is getting interesting...

"No. He constantly teases me, whether he means to or not is another thing, but he does and it's so frustrating!" Boromir cried, aggravation waxing. "So I told him to go away and leave me alone. And now I am here..." He trailed off, leaving the connotation up for Girion's own interpretation. Still, Boromir chewed his lip hopefully, feeling that same old warmth creep through his limbs like renewed life spreads through trees once the first breaths of spring break through the winter ices and snows.

Girion was perturbed at his friend and partner's obvious displeasure over Faramir's lack of readiness, but he could sympathize, fully understanding the way that Boromir was by nature, because indeed most, if not all, men were the same way at that age. Stroking Boromir's knee lazily but in a bold move, Girion murmured "I understand your frustration, Boromir. You needn't say any more."

Boromir needed no further prompting. With one hand he covered Girion's and drew it slowly up his thigh, and with the other he reached up and cupped his friend's jaw, drawing their faces together using only his fingertips. Their lips fused together chastely, and hesitantly they fall away from each other again into electrically charged air, similar to that feeling and tension the atmosphere gains preceding a summer thunderstorm.

Girion's hand slipped from Boromir's and before Boromir could recover Girion was stretched out behind him, stroking the side of the bed where Boromir sat. "I'm tired. You'll have to wait," he said with a wink.

Boromir bit his lip, feeling betrayed again. But the look in Girion's obsidian eyes held the promise of more once the day had waned into night and the risk of interruption was dashed.

And so the hours passed; the pair ventured out just as dusk was settling over the world and dimming the sparkle of snow still scattered as far as the eye could see. Boromir sat on the wall outside of Girion's hamlet with his legs slung over the edge, kicking against the ice-encrusted stone bricks. The delicate crunch of snow under boots came up behind him and Girion's warming, calming presence urged him to lean back only to fall into Girion's embrace and nestle his head against the guard's belly.

"Are you feeling better, Boromir?"

Boromir nodded, causing his sun-splashed sandy hair to rustle against Girion's warm but rustic outerwear. Breathing the guard's scent in deeply -- one of woodsmoke and burned pipe leaf -- Boromir's brain was cleared of everything save the rekindled affinity he felt for the man, his first lover.

As the fiery red disc of the sun disappeared bit by bit behind the sawtooth peaks of the White Mountains behind them, their bodies became chilled and they sought body heat, unadulterated and ever-present. Though their heavy breaths crystallized in the chill air, the tangible hotness boiling up between Boromir and Girion chased away all groping fingers of coldness that pervaded the world once the last slice of sun was snuffed up behind jagged snow-capped mountains.

"We should go inside..."

The wooden door was scarcely clicked shut when Boromir caught Girion's mouth in a hot kiss. Startled, Girion jerked his face away and swallowed hard. He took a steadying breath and said, "Boromir, are you sure that this is what you want?"

"Yes, gods, yes" Boromir insisted as he pulled Girion back into his embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around the guard's muscled back and running his hands down the lean torso. Girion's lips on Boromir's neck sparked chills under his skin that penetrated down to the very marrow of his bones.

A small fire crackled in the shallow hearth opposite the door, illuminating the tiny chamber with an ethereal orange glow. Bare skin was splashed bronze as firelight danced and smoke lingered. Heavy breathing amidst the rustle of garments being removed turned to gasps and sighs once another sensitive patch of skin was unveiled.

"Want you so badly..." "It's been a long time." "Too long..." "So, so gorgeous."

The shoddy mattress rustled as the combined weight of the two men eased in to bed, one on top of the other. Girion felt somewhat detached, strangely enough, but Boromir's unexpected demand changed that sentiment.

"I want to kiss you, like you taught me."

Girion nodded and craned his neck up a bit, so that his slightly parted lips grazed Boromir's stubbled chin. He gasped when Boromir's tongue plunged into his mouth and ravaged it, no soft contour untouched. Their tongues swirled wildly around each other, eliciting sharp gasps as each new sensation threw more fuel onto the smoldering desire ignited in both men's bodies. Boromir deepened the kiss further by reaching around and threading his fingers through Girion's curly hair, hand splayed and fingertips gently massaging the skull.

Girion arched up against Boromir's body, almost unable to contain himself any longer.

Boromir's breath hitched and he eased off, sucking Girion's lower lip in between his teeth and worrying the tender flesh roughly. "Was that good?"

Girion broke into a smarmy grin. "Shut up and quit teasing."

Boromir groaned and rolled over only to collide with something warm that snored. He poked the bare back before him, saying "Girion, you're taking over the whole mattress."

The lump simply grumbled and rolled over to that Girion now faced Boromir. "Well good morning to you, too," he said, voice grainy and thick with sleep. He yawned hugely and stretched his arms out above his head. "I don't suppose you can stay much longer," he whispered, nestling his face into the crook of Boromir's neck.

"I could, if you wished it," he replied as he picked up a strand of Girion's hair and twirled it around his finger. "I have nothing pressing to tend to."

Girion glanced up at Boromir's impassive face questioningly. "And what of Faramir? No doubt he'll want to resolve this disagreement you had with him."

Boromir's eyes darkened, burning with irritation and impatience. He refused to say anything.

"Boromir? You should go to him," Girion insisted as he drew away from his lover. "He needs a brother, especially now."

"What do you mean 'especially now'?"

"You mean you don't know?"

Silence and tension.

"Know what?" Boromir's voice was edged with poisonous choler.

Girion sighed and swallowed hard, gathering his thoughts. "Well... not long after you left a year ago, Faramir was, well... attacked, by these incorrigible bullies and I found him, took him to the Houses of Healing." Girion didn't notice the way Boromir's jaw stiffened with anger. "And then not soon after he recovered, your father sent him out on his own to Ithilien. He thought it would do him good to be on his own, teach him how to be a man and take care of himself. But... he got lost, and a band of rangers found him near death in the wild. But they rescued him and he was healed. I'm sure that Faramir at least told you a bit of this?"

"No, he failed to have this conversation with me, Girion," Boromir replied evenly. Suddenly he catapulted out of the bed and pulled on his clothes. "I have to go."

"Boromir, you're in no state of mind to speak civilly with him now!" Girion said, pleading. "Just wait, calm down a bit--"

"You will not deign to tell me what I will and will not do, Guard! My business is with Faramir and I would prefer it if you kept out of my affairs!"

The same plate and cup that Boromir had knocked down from the table yesterday when he stormed into Girion's cabin tumbled to the ground and shattered. Before Girion could process what he'd just done Boromir was out of sight.

He groaned and sunk back into his bed, covering his face with his pillow. He knew that it would do no good to stop Boromir now; that would be like trying to stop an avalanche. "Gods, what have I done?"

TBC...