When the nights are cold, it only makes sense to share body heat to stay warm, right? And if you happen to fall for the person you're sleeping with – sleeping next to! – that would be perfectly normal and fine. Right? Aragorn is about to find out.
My first Lord of the Rings fanfic!
Enjoy!
Warmth and love for the weary
It's been a long, hard day of walking. Over hills and around mountains, on rocky and rough grounds, the Fellowship has walked. They are all getting exhausted, especially the Hobbits. Even Aragorn is feeling like he might sink to the ground and not get up when Gandalf finally announces they will be stopping and resting here for the night. They manage to find a small cave that gives a little shelter from the wind and potential rain or snow.
Even though they can risk no fire, even though the ground is hard and uncomfortable, and even if their dinner consists only of some cold bread and cheese, the break is still a great relief. After dinner, they don't bother staying up to talk much longer and soon head to sleep, as they are all exhausted and wish for nothing more than some rest.
Aragorn offers to take first watch, Gandalf will take the second, and the third will go to Legolas.
The four Hobbits curl up in a pile like a litter of puppies in the back of the cave, with Frodo in the middle, trying to keep as warm as possible in the frigid temperature. Gimli settles near them, seemingly less bothered by the cold. Legolas seats himself against the wall of the cave, and Gandalf lays down near him. Boromir settles near the entrance to the cave, close to where Aragorn put down his own pack and bedroll.
While the others are doing their best to get some much-needed sleep, Aragorn watches as Boromir looks to the huddling Hobbits for a few moments, before he removes his coat and places it over them as a blanket.
"Won't you get cold?" one of the Hobbits, perhaps Merry, asks.
"No, I shall manage," Boromir replies, moving away from the Hobbit pile.
"Thank you!" Merry says.
"Sooo warm," Pippin murmurs, pulling the coat tighter around them.
When Boromir returns to his bedroll, Aragorn can see the pleased and content small smile on his weary face. The care the other man shows the smallest members of their company makes a smile tug at Aragorn's lips as well.
"What?" Boromir asks when he catches Aragorn looking.
"Nothing," Aragorn says, shaking his head. "It is good of you to look after the little ones so."
"They are not used to this harsh life," Boromir says, shrugging. "I can not do anything about the rocky ground or the exhausting walks, but I can at least make sure they do not freeze in the night."
"And you?" Aragorn has to ask. "Are you certain you will not freeze in the night?"
"As I said," Boromir says, "I shall manage." With that, he turns his back to Aragorn, attempting to go to sleep himself.
Aragorn turns his eyes towards the wilderness surrounding them, lit up by the stars and the moon. He focuses his eyes and ears to catch anything going on around them. A cool breeze flows from the north. He can hear Gimli's snoring, some quiet murmurs from the Hobbits, and some shuffling as Boromir tries to find a more comfortable sleeping position.
The first watch turns out to be very uneventful. The only living things Aragorn spots are a few owls on their nightly hunt, and a fox who sticks his head from a bush and quickly disappears upon noticing Aragorn watching him. His gaze occasionally turns to Boromir, who seems unable to properly fall asleep, shifting every few minutes.
When Gandalf comes to relieve him of his watch, Aragorn feels cold and stiff. A quick look around at the rest of the Fellowship as he stretches his limbs tells him they're all still right where they laid down. The Hobbits burrowed under Boromir's coat, Gimli snoring near them, Legolas with his back to the wall, and Boromir at the entrance. The man seems troubled, frowning in either discomfort or anguish.
Nightmares, perhaps? Aragorn thinks as he pulls his own cloak tighter around himself. Or just cold, he amends as Boromir shivers when another cold breeze flows over the camp.
Aragorn quickly makes up his mind. He moves his own bedroll next to Boromir's and lies down right behind the other man. He hesitates for a moment before pressing himself up against Boromir's back and pulls his cloak over them both. Resting his head on Boromir's shoulder, he wraps an arm around the other man's waist to pull them as close together as he can. Boromir smells like sweat, leather, and grass, and his broad form is warm against Aragorn.
"What are you doing?" Boromir murmurs, half-asleep. Aragorn had been slightly concerned Boromir might try to hit him for taking such liberties, but the man merely nudges him with an elbow as he tries to figure out their position.
"It is cold," Aragorn murmurs in Boromir's ear, quietly to not disturb the others. "It would be too much of a delay if one of us were to fall ill, and sharing body heat is the best way to stay warm. Other than lighting a fire, which we can not risk."
Boromir mumbles something he can't make out, then relaxes back against Aragorn's chest and falls back asleep, seemingly considerably more at rest. Aragorn also closes his eyes and relaxes, allowing sleep to claim him where he lays, warmer and more comfortable than he's been in quite a while.
When Aragorn wakes up many hours later, he's feeling warm and drowsy. He's still pressed up against Boromir's back, one arm slung over his waist and face tucked against the other man's neck. He doesn't open his eyes quite yet, content to simply bask in the warmth for just a few more minutes.
That's when he notices Boromir is already awake, and talking to someone. Or rather, two someones. He soon recognizes the voices as Merry and Pippin.
"– don't think I've ever seen Strider sleep this long," Merry is saying.
"I don't think I've ever seen him sleep at all," Pippin adds.
Aragorn doesn't open his eyes, but is still fairly certain the two Hobbits are staring at him.
"When Strider was taking us from Bree to Rivendell, I thought he doesn't sleep at all," Merry admits, a bit sheepishly.
"What made you believe that?" Boromir says in a low voice. "Surely it should not be a surprise that Men need sleep just as much as Hobbits?"
"Well, we just never saw him sleep," Pippin says. "He was keeping watch when we fell asleep, and he was still keeping watch when we woke up."
"Until recently, we've never known any big folk well enough to have any knowledge about their sleeping habits," Merry adds. "So you can't really blame us, can you?"
"No, I suppose I cannot," Boromir says. "Perhaps we will all learn new things about each other during this journey. Just do not tell me Hobbits do not get cold and that I gave you my coat for no reason."
"Oh, no," Merry is quick to reassure him. "Hobbits do indeed get cold, especially on such a chilly night. It was very kind of you to help us stay warm."
"Where did you leave my coat, anyway?" Boromir asks. "You better not have lost it already."
"Oh, nothing of the sort," Merry says quickly. "We left it with Sam and Frodo."
"They're still sleeping," Pippin informs Boromir. "Or at least Frodo is. I think Sam is just watching him."
"Or keeping him warm," Boromir suggests. "Frodo is lucky to have him."
"And you're lucky to have Strider to keep you warm," Pippin says. "Or else you would be freezing."
"Yes," Boromir murmurs. "I suppose I am lucky to have him."
After that first night, it soon becomes a regular thing for Aragorn and Boromir to share bedrolls for the nights. Once it's time for sleep, Boromir will hand over his coat to the Hobbits for warmth, and then crawl with Aragorn under his cloak, huddling together for warmth. Occasionally it's the other way around, with Aragorn handing his cloak to the little ones and curling up with Boromir.
Though the Hobbits have subtly (for them) hinted they prefer Boromir's coat, as it is larger and does a better job at keeping them warm.
Sleeping with Boromir – or rather, next to Boromir – is a rather comfortable feel, Aragorn finds. He assumes the other man feels the same way, for surely he would not be so alright with this arrangement otherwise?
It's been so long since Aragorn has shared his bed with another person, he almost craves it. The closeness, the comfort, the solid warmth, and the presence of another person.
Sometimes, they sleep like they had that first night, with Aragorn pressed up against Boromir's back with an arm slung over the other man's waist. Sometimes, Boromir is the one with his chest to Aragorn's back, face pressed against Aragorn's back in a way that makes him wonder how the man can even breathe.
Sometimes they wake up in the same position they fell asleep in, having moves very little, if at all, during the night. Other times, they wake up in different positions. More than a few times, Aragorn wakes up to find he has turned around during the night and is now facing Boromir, their arms around each other, his nose tucked against Boromir's neck, the other man's chin resting atop is head. Other mornings, Aragorn finds himself laying on his back, pressed down by Boromir's strong body covering him like a particularly heavy blanket. Almost as often, he's the one laying atop Boromir, hearing the man's strong and steady heartbeat under his ear.
The rest of the company take the newly found closeness of the two men as the most natural thing in the world. For the Hobbits, who sleep in a pile like puppies, it probably is. In fact, they probably consider it more strange that Legolas, Gimli, and Gandalf aren't sharing their bedrolls with anyone.
Gandalf, for his part, seems to find the whole thing rather amusing.
As the days go by, Aragorn finds himself spending more and more time with Boromir. They walk together during the long days, exchanging stories about their youth, occasionally joined y Merry and Pippin, who are especially interested in Boromir's stories.
When Boromir is teaching the two Hobbits some sword-fighting techniques, Aragorn sits nearby, sometimes offering some tips or advice.
And whenever the company has to gather firewood, seek food, or keep watch Aragorn is often pairing up with Boromir.
Aragorn soon realizes he probably likes Boromir far more than he should, but he just can't help it! Whenever Boromir is not with him, he finds himself looking for the other man, nearly craving his presence, his closeness. He realizes he has come to rely on Boromir, to need him nearby.
His affections for the other man don't go completely unnoticed, despite what he might have wished.
"Are you going to tell Boromir you like him, or just keep staring at him?" are the first words that come out of Pippin's mouth one evening when he and Merry sit themselves on each side of Aragorn, apparently trying to corner him.
"I -"Aragorn stammers at the unexpected question. He's not even certain which part of the question he should start with. "I do not stare at Boromir," is what he settles for, all too aware of how defensive he must sound.
"Yes, you do," Merry says, nodding sagely. "Whenever he's within sight, you barely take your eyes from him."
"At least you're not trying to deny you like him," Pippin says. "So, you should tell him."
If only it were that simple, Aragorn thinks, glancing over at Boromir. The man seems lost in thought, staring into the small fire they had decided to risk tonight, in the shelter of some rocks and dense trees.
"It's a bit more complicated than that," Aragorn says. He decides there's no point in trying to deny it. Apparently the Hobbits are more perceptive than he'd thought. He does like Boromir, far more than he'd expected when he first met the other man in Rivendell. He would love to be with Boromir, to hold him, kiss him, love him.
But it isn't that simple. He has to take into consideration that they're both men, how Boromir feels about such things, their respective positions, and the fact that he doesn't know if Boromir would like him like that anyway.
"Complicated," Pippin mutters, crossing his arms. "That's what Boromir said too. I still don't get what's so complicated about that."
"Boromir said that?" Aragorn asks, looking from one Hobbit to the other.
"We tried talking to him first," Merry admits. "After all, he's staring at you nearly as much as you stare at him."
Oh, Aragorn blinks. He had not expected that. Had not dared to think that Boromir would be looking back at him, maybe considering, maybe having the same thoughts and doubts and reservations as Aragorn...
"He just said it's complicated and that we shouldn't get involved," Pippin says. "Then he said he'd toss us into the nearest river if we ask him such things again."
Aragorn chuckles. That does sound like Boromir, though he doesn't think the man would actually be tossing the Hobbits into any rivers. At least no unless they want to be.
"Are you saying you would not want to be tossed into a river?" he asks.
"Well, not these ones. They're freezing cold!" Merry says. "Now in the Shire, however, there's this - "
Aragorn leans back, listening to the two Hobbits tell him about splashing around in streams in the Shire, glad he has managed to move the topic of conversation away from himself and Boromir. This allows him to think about it more carefully.
If Boromir were to turn him down, even find the idea of being with another man disgusting or wrong, it would cause much trouble for the entire Fellowship on the road ahead. Not to mention trouble for Aragorn. On the other hand, if Boromir does feel the same way for Aragorn, it could improve their mood and morale. Though it might also leave the two of them somewhat distracted. Then again, not knowing, always guessing and speculating, leaves at least him just as distracted.
He gives himself some time to think about it, and soon makes his decision. Tonight, he will talk to Boromir and finally find out exactly where they both stand with each other.
Later that night, Aragorn offers to go gather more firewood with Boromir. They still have some, but it's still better to gather a bit more. The two men walk quietly through the forest, not speaking to each other. Not quite yet.
The evening is clear and cold, lit up by the moon and stars. Aragorn picks up a few sticks he deems dry enough, keeping an eye on Boromir, considering how to best approach the topic. The straightforward way seems the best. After all, Boromir is not the kind of man who likes dancing around a topic instead of just saying what's up.
"Boromir," Aragorn says after a little while. "May I have a few words with you?"
"Aye," the man says, turning to look at Aragorn. "What is it?"
"When I first met you in Rivendell, I was uncertain what to make of you," Aragorn admits. Boromir's eyes narrow, but stays silent, probably sensing there's still more to come. "But during these many weeks we have spent together, I have come to see there is much to you that I had not seen then."
Boromir has topped frowning, and is now looking at Aragorn with a new curiosity, like he's trying to find something in Aragorn's words.
"I have come to realize you are a strong and kind person. I see it in the way you look out for the little ones, and the love and pride in your voice as you speak of your home, your people, and your brother. I have come to greatly appreciate and enjoy your company, as well as having you at my side, my friend."
"I -" Boromir looks down at the sticks and branches he has gathered, his cheeks and the tips of his ears going red. "I have come to enjoy your company as well, Aragorn."
Boromir's words give Aragorn a little more courage, and he takes a few steps closer to the man, placing his armful of firewood on a nearby rock.
"In the past few days, I have found myself thinking and wondering..." he slowly lifts a hand to Boromir's cheek, feeling the other man's warm skin and scruffy beard under his palm. "If I were to kiss you, would you kiss me back, or would you attempt to stab me?"
Boromir seems frozen in place under Aragorn's touch. His eyes are wide with surprise and shock, but Aragorn is glad to see no disgust or hatred in them. Boromir opens his mouth slightly, then closes it again. He swallows once and licks his lips. Aragon's eyes follow every movement intently.
"Why not try it and find out?" Boromir says in a hoarse whisper.
Aragorn looks closely at Boromir. His pupils are slightly dilated and his breathing has changed. Aragorn slowly lifts his other arm, cupping Boromir's face in both hands, then takes another step closer. Now they're nearly touching. Aragorn is slightly taller than Boromir, but the other man is broad and strong, more than capable of pushing Aragorn away if he doesn't want this.
Slowly, giving Boromir plenty of time to change his mind, Aragorn presses their mouths together in a soft kiss. He lingers for a few seconds, then pulls back just enough to look Boromir in the eyes.
He barely has time to blink before Boromir grabs him and pulls him in for another, more heated kiss. This kiss is more passionate, more eager, yearning, and even a little desperate. Aragorn responds with equal passion and eagerness, lowering one hand from Boromir's face to his waist in order to pull him closer. Boromir makes a low, keening sound as he grasps Aragorn's arms and tries to press even closer to him. Aragorn can feel the heat of his strong body even through all their clothes.
Aragorn moves his other hand from Boromir's cheek to the back of his neck, squeezing lightly. Boromir lets out a low moan, then relaxes slightly against Aragorn as the kiss loses some of its desperation. He allows Aragorn to take charge, while nearly melting against him.
Aragorn takes his time exploring Boromir's mouth, tasting him, pulling the most delectable sounds from him. He could do this for hours and never get tired of it.
Eventually, far too soon, the need for breath forces the two men apart. Foreheads pressed together and lips only barely parted from each other's, they gulp down much needed air.
Somewhere along their heated kiss, Aragorn has pushed Boromir up against a tree, and the firewood Boromir had collected is laying on the ground. They now use the tree for support as they lean against it and each other, as though worried their legs will not fully support them. At least that's how Aragorn feels.
"I notice you have not yet stabbed me," Aragorn murmurs quietly against Boromir's lips.
The forest is silent around them, with only a light wind moving through the trees. Breaking the quiet would feel wrong, somehow. One of Boromir's hands moves up from Aragorn's arm to bury it in his hair instead. Aragorn shudders as Boromir's nails scratch against his scalp.
"I left my sword at the camp," Boromir murmurs back, just as quietly. His hand tightens its grip on Aragorn's hair. "But I might still stab you later, if you do not keep kissing me."
Aragorn chuckles, but does as Boromir requests and presses their mouths back together in a warm kiss, this one less rushed and heated, but no less loving and passionate. Boromir sighs against Aragorn's mouth as he leans into him. It is with great reluctance that Aragorn pulls away from him.
"We should return to the camp," he murmurs, too reluctantly even to his own ears.
"Mmmm... soon," Boromir mumbles, seemingly not really listening to him as he leans forward to press their lips back together. It seems he has no intention of stopping or letting go anytime soon.
Can't blame him, Aragorn thinks absently as he tightens his grip on Boromir. After all, I am no better.
He wishes he could stay here like this forever, with Boromir in his arms. Feeling the warmth of the other man's body, tasting his mouth, the smell of him...
"We really need to return to the others," Aragorn says as they break apart for air once more.
"I know," Boromir says, closing his eyes. "Not much privacy at the camp, though."
"Not tonight," Aragorn agrees. He lets go of Boromir and picks up the firewood he'd gathered. "Tonight we will sleep. And perhaps tomorrow night as well, and some more nights after that. But we will find some privacy, soon. If only for an hour."
"Hopefully more than an hour," Boromir murmurs, eyes roaming up and down Aragorn's body. "I would like to take my time with you."
Aragorn finds himself blushing under the intense gaze, suddenly all too aware of how rumpled he must look.
"Perhaps one day we will have entire nights to get to know each other in every way possible," he says. "But for now, we will have to settle for what we can get."
"I suppose you are right," Boromir says, before he starts picking up his own firewood.
The two men return to the camp in comfortable silence. Luckily, no one asks what took them so long, no one says anything when they once again curl up together under Aragorn's cloak, or even when he leans over to press a soft kiss to Boromir's lips (though Aragorn is fairly certain he sees some cookies exchange hands among the Hobbits)
That night, though a cold wind blows, Aragorn feels warmer and more hopeful for the future than he has in a long time.
Thanks very much for reading. I really hope you all enjoyed this fic!
Please feel free to let me know what you think of it!