Boromir strode through the rich woods of Lothlórien, marveling at how beautiful this forest was, even at night. He had been restless, his legs refusing to stay still, and thought a walk would help to calm him.
Galadriel's voice in his mind earlier that night had spoken of hope. Hope for the future, for his father, hope for him. Boromir desperately wanted to believe that there was hope left. He had to, or else everything he held dear would fade into oblivion. His beloved Gondor would be forgotten, and the blame –right or wrong- would be on him.
Yet as he walked through this tranquil wood he found he had never been at such peace; it seemed fitting in a place like this. Years of battle and bloodshed seemed to be wiped clean from his memories, leaving only harmony and a hunger for beauty.
Boromir let his fingers linger on the rough bark of the trees as he passed them. The touch brought back memories of Aiyla, of what she'd said to him earlier that day.
The ghost of her voice, soft and silky, rang in his ears as though she were whispering near him, 'Life is a cycle, and everything comes in pairs. For every good thing we experience, there is a bad thing. For every dark place, there is one filled with light'
So wise, so beautiful, and such grace! Aiyla filled his thoughts and he let his feet guide him blindly, as fantasies of her overtook him.
Boromir found himself at the edge of a small clearing, a small waterfall pouring down into a rippling, clear pond. It was full of silver moon beams that bounced off the smooth gray tree trunks and reflected in the pearly surface of the pool. The golden leaves that crowned the trees sat like dim, shifting clouds in the night sky.
Boromir slowly stepped forward beyond the line of trees, taking in the beauty of the little moonlit dell.
Suddenly he noticed that he was not alone.
A tall figure stood with its back to him. A lithe, pale, slender figure with long, straight hair darker than the night sky above them.
It seemed the figure was in the process of undressing. Her sword in its sheath lay with a pair of boots and a belt that were strewn behind her, as well as her dark green cloak and grey leggings. She was left in only a light green tunic.
She turned and looked at him, her long black hair falling over her shoulder. Even in the moonlight he could see the pale green of her eyes sparkling.
Their eyes met and a flash of molten heat blazed through Boromir, going straight to his loins. How long had it been since he'd had a woman?
Too long.
Aiyla surveyed Boromir over her shoulder, studying his long light brown hair, his storm gray eyes. She noted his size, the wide chest, rippling arms and broad shoulders. He was larger than a normal man, and Aiyla had seen many men. Big men, small men, strong men, fat men. But none like Boromir.
Yes she had heard of him, of all his valiant deeds and unrivaled leadership in Gondor. But what she hadn't mentioned was that she also knew of his renowned size in the nether-regions, something dozens of women could attest to.
"My pardons Aiyla, I did not realize you were undressing" Boromir said, his voice a low rumble in his throat.
She gazed at him for a long while, looking him up and down. Boromir felt as if those celadon eyes were stripping him bare, down to his very soul.
When she finally spoke her voice was soft and sultry, "How long has it been since you've lain with a woman?"
Those words caused a second flame to lick down Boromir's belly, to his stiffening manhood. It was as if she could read his mind.
"A long time" Boromir replied in a gravelly voice, "and you?"
"Even longer" Aiyla said, a coy smile curling her lips.
Their eyes met again and Boromir knew he had to have her this night; he was lost in those green eyes. She took the edge of her tunic and pulled it up over her head, revealing pale thighs, a taught stomach, twin globes each topped with a pink nipple, and at the apex of her thighs were folds of glistening dark pink woman flesh.
Naked and beautiful she walked towards him, her silky dark hair flowing down her back and swirling around the curve of her waist. By the time she reached him Boromir's breath was coming heavy, his muscles taught.
She reached for the clasp at his throat, her slender fingers brushing the flesh of his neck. The second and third clasps came undone and his leather overtunic slid off onto the ground. He now wore a scarlet and gold quilted tunic, with a shirt of mail under that, dark leggings and sturdy boots.
Boromir stripped off his tunic and mail, his chiseled chest, chorded with muscle, now bare to Aiyla. She lightly touched him, her fingers tracing a path from his collar bone down to the waist of his leggings. There were assorted scars along the way that she ran her fingers lightly over, the more sensitive scar tissue causing him to shiver under her touch.
Her small slim fingers slipped under the waistband of his leggings and Boromir groaned low in his chest. He helped her remove them, along with his boots and then he was naked as well.
He reached for her then, brushing his fingertips down the curve of her breast, down the side of her ribcage and curved his hand around the dip in her waist. Boromir pulled Aiyla to him and smirked at the small sound that escaped her.
He bent his lips down to hers and kissed her, long and deep; she tasted better than any saccharine sweet he'd ever had. He groaned into her mouth when he felt her tongue caress his. He entwined his hands into her hair and it ran through his fingers like silk. The scent of rich, luscious honey enveloped him.
Aiyla reached up on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around Boromir's neck, and she felt his erection pushing insistently into her stomach. Boromir kissed her harder, twining his thick arms around her waist and pressing her to him, causing a sweet blistering heat to bloom in the pit of Aiyla's stomach.
In an instant, Boromir had Aiyla flat on her back and was kissing his way down her neck. She moaned and felt that sweet heat building deep in her belly. It truly had been too long.
Boromir reached up and cupped one of her breasts in his hand; it fit perfectly in his palm. He ran his thumb over the pink nipple, causing Aiyla to gasp. Music to his ears.
Suddenly she took his length in her hand, her firm grip eliciting a groan from him, and pumped it. He gasped when her fingers brushed the sensitive head. She guided him to her entrance and glanced up at him.
In response he took hold himself and teased her slit, rubbing the head back and forth between her lips but not fully penetrating. She let out a frustrated groan and shifted her hips, trying to move him to that sweet spot where he could sink fully inside her.
He smirked and suddenly the head slid into her, and Boromir gasped, her exquisite, tight heat surprising him. Unable to hold himself back, he slowly pushed in, being careful not to hurt her. He knew he was large, former lovers could attest to that, and he didn't want to cause discomfort.
Aiyla gasped as Boromir slid into her. He was so large! So amazingly large, every inch of her felt stretched and full.
As he went in further Aiyla moved her head side to side, face a mask of pleasure, as she moaned "Ai! Mae meleth! Ai!" Boromir did not speak elvish, but one did not have to know the language to hear the pleasure in her voice. When he bottomed out they were both panting and shivering.
Aiyla's body seemed caught between heaven and earth, the only thing keeping her from soaring into the heavens out of ecstasy was Boromir's weight on top of her, his heat inside her, and the pleasure sparking from their union.
Boromir pulled out slowly and then pushed back in even slower, drawing small cries from Aiyla. She ran her hands down his back, the strong muscles shifting as he moved inside her.
Boromir was drowning, drowning in pleasure and bliss. He fell into that old familiar rhythm, rock himself in and out to the time of her moans and his grunts, seeking that sweet release that would bring contentment to them both.
Behind the dell, hidden in the trees, Legolas stood spellbound, watching his oldest friend make love to the human, Boromir. He had taken a walk to enjoy the beauty of the forest when he'd come upon the clearing.
The sight, even the smell, of such pleasure being had awakened something old and long-dormant inside of him and Legolas felt the sharp prickle of jealously, somewhat to his surprise. What had Boromir done to convince Aiyla he'd make a suitable bedmate?
Their grunts and moans increased and Legolas knew they were both close. Boromir's thrusts were becoming more erratic and forceful, and Aiyla was moaning each time their flesh met with a squishing sound.
"Tolo hi, nînmeleth!" Aiyla called out, her voice colored with pleasure from her impending release.
"Come now, my love" She'd said. Legolas felt anger - and again - jealousy creep into his mind. What right did Boromir have to be called 'my love'? Love was what Aiyla and Legolas had, not a night of carnal pleasure.
They both climaxed then, Boromir letting out a long, passionate groan and Aiyla a moan as Boromir's seed shot deep into her. Legolas seethed in the silence that followed afterwards. He watched as Boromir shifted so that they were lying next to her. Within minutes he was asleep. Had it truly been so long since his last sexual encounter that the human's one climax left him exhausted?
It seemed the human's stamina was not up to par. Aiyla stroked Boromir's face and slowly rose from his arms, her naked body silhouetted by the glittering waterfall behind her. She dressed quickly and walked towards the woods.
Right to where Legolas was standing.