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Title: Heartbound
Chapter Nine
Author: dark
Email: dark.malignity@gmail.com
Pairing: Boromir/ Elrohir.
Rating: PG
Summary: Boromir's appearance in Imladris complicates the twins'
lives, especially when he cannot tell the identical twins apart. AU,
pre-fellowship.
Warning: Slash (male/ male pairings)

Disclaimer: All Elfies and places (and the one Man) belong to Tolkien.
I am merely borrowing them for my own (and others') amusement. = D


A/N-- Please don't hate me. I've toyed a bit with the death scene so it's completely AU. It's a bit like the movie version, but just a wee little bit. =P The injury was one I read about once a long long time ago. That fella survived cos he was rushed to hospital, so it's not necessarily a fatal wound if treated promptly.
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Elrohir sighed as he stared down at the blank page in his diary. Usually the words came so easily, but lately everything had been falling apart. Slowly, tremblingly, he picked up his quill.

// The curse has begun// he scrawled at the top of the page. The tip of the quill made an ugly sound as it drew across the rough paper. Odd. He had never noticed how loud the noise was, or how painful it was to his ears. It sounded like something being ripped slowly apart.

//He is gone//, he wrote. //He has left me.//

Unable to continue, Elrohir flung down his quill and sobbed into the pages of his diary, his tears telling the story of his anguish more potently than any words he could seek to find. When the fit passed, he shuddered and picked his quill up once again.

//It has been some time since the Company departed, but I have been too ill to write before today.//

A pause.

//I feel as if my life were over. My heart breaks. The strength is fading from my limbs. I know I will never see him again.// Taking a deep breath to still his nerves, Elrohir rubbed his face roughly and moaned. //I have seen his death. I do not know when it will come, but I know the day will arrive soon. In my mind's eye, I see him standing amidst a pile of orc corpses. He is fighting bravely, but there are too many of them. My mind reels. I spin around and see a black monster emerging from the distance. I know it is that foul beast that will kill my beloved. I turn around to tell him, but it is too late. I scream as he falls to the ground, lifeless. That is the vision that has haunted my thoughts of late.

//Deep in my heart, I know Boromir senses it too. He brushes it off lightly whenever I beg him to reconsider. Sometimes he even makes a joke out of it all, but he knows it is true. I saw it in his eyes as he walked away from me. He knows we will never see each other again.//

"Boromir..." Elrohir's voice was as soft as a breath of wind, his illness and his heartbreak sapping him of all his strength. "I love you... where are you, my love? I need you desperately... Ai!" he choked, then clutched his chest painfully as a bout of coughing wracked through his body. "My love... my heart..." he wheezed. The whole room swam beneath his eyes, and a horrible feeling of nausea threatened to overcome him. Panting, he pressed his forehead against the cool of the desk and fought to regain mastery over his senses. At length, he raised his head and continued his writing once more.

//I will get well.// he continued as best as he could in a shaky hand. //I *must* get well. He handed me his letter as he was leaving. "Give this to my brother," he said to me. "If your dream was true, and I do not make the journey home, I want you to ride to Gondor and give it. Promise me this," he said, then he kissed me our last kiss. "I love you," he said, and I wept. It was almost too cruel to hear those words just moments before he left me. I almost wish he had kept the words to himself. Almost. Almost, but not quite.//

//I promised him, diary. I gave him my word. He has entrusted me with a task and I cannot let him down. It would kill me to let him down. Which is why I simply must get well. Once the letter is in his brother's hands, my task would be complete, and I will no longer be duty-bound. And then I will fade.//

//Now I know what Ada meant when he told me that Vilya had kept him alive. I feel the same way. For now at least, I have a purpose. My love for him forbids me to think otherwise. I must get well. I must make the ride to warring Gondor. I only hope I will not be too late. I pray I will not be greeted by his brother's dead corpse.//

//Boromir's time might come tomorrow, or the day after that. It might not be for several weeks hence. But for me, he is already dead, because I know I will never see him again. For me, he died the moment he stepped out of my sight.//

In his weakened state, Elrohir barely registered the soft footfalls coming towards him, or Elladan's worried face as he knelt before the writing desk. "Brother?" Elladan asked softly, laying a hand on his sibling's shoulder. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he dabbed away the tears that stained Elrohir's pale cheeks. "You should not be here, Roh," he chided gently. "You should be resting, my brother. You are not well enough."

"Needed air," Elrohir mumbled his reply.

"You should have told me you wanted your writing materials, Roh," Elladan said gently. "I would have fetched them for you. You shouldn't have walked all the way to the study all by yourself. What if you had collapsed on the way here? Roh, please. Do not make me worry like that. Brother, I love you."

Smiling apologetically, Elrohir pulled himself to his feet and leaned tiredly into his brother for support, but squealed in protest when his twin made to carry him back to his room. "Book..." he wheezed, stretching his hand out towards the diary that still lay open on the desk. Obediently, Elladan reached for the diary and passed it to him before trying once more to lift his twin.

"No!" Elrohir resisted, swatting his brother weakly away. "Letter..."

Elladan sighed, frustrated to the brink of tears at his own helplessness to help his twin. "There is no letter, Roh. Come, you need to lie down."

"No!" Elrohir urged, "Letter!" Swaying slightly, he stumbled towards the chest of drawers and pulled out a letter marked with Boromir's seal. "Letter," he said again, smugly this time, and beamed before tucking it safely away in his robes.

Elrohir snorted in mock disgust. "Is that all your highness?" he asked sarcastically, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. "Can we get you back to your rooms now? Or does your highness wish to have his cake and tea with the butterflies by the waterfalls?" he asked archly before breaking into an indulgent smile. "Come on," he grinned, holding out an arm.

Elrohir laughed in reply and stepped forward to meet his twin's embrace, but even as he reached for his brother's arm, he felt the earth rock beneath his feet. Thrown off-balance, he fell to his knees. He cast around, stunned, and realized to his horror that he was no longer in his father's study. He was in a wood. An unfamiliar wood, and the ground around his feet was littered with orc carcasses.

"No..."

Before his eyes, his Man-lover danced the deadly dance of battle, sweat glistening against the rough, dirt-encrusted face, blow meeting blow, blade clashing with orc blade as he fought the fell beasts. And although his lover skillfully slayed his enemies, more swarmed in to replace their fallen comrades. Elrohir stared in horror as he watched his lover being overwhelmed.

"No!"

All thought of his illness forgotten, Elrohir scrambled frantically around for an orc blade. His lover was in trouble. His lover needed help. Boromir was being overwhelmed in battle, and Elrohir would protect him. He had been training for this all his life, and not for nothing was he one of Imladris' finest warriors. He would kill any orc that so much as dared to lift a sword against the love of his life. They had already taken his mother from him. He would rather die before he let them take Boromir as well.

He pounced savagely on a sword lying abandoned in the dust beside the remains of it's previous owner, but his haze of bloodlust soon turned to one of horror when his fingers passed eerily through the cold orc metal. Panic-stricken, he lunged futilely at another sword lying close by, then a set of daggers, and then finally a discarded shield before throwing his head back and screaming in frustration.

Still screaming, he aimed a punch at an approaching orc, then cursed furiously as his arm passed harmlessly through his intended victim. Helpless, he tore at his hair in desperation. How could he rescue Boromir if he was trapped in an ethereal body?! Though it drove him crazy to be so powerless in the face of danger, he had no choice but to come to terms with his current disembodied state. He had been transported here not to help, but to watch.

He had been sent here to watch his lover die.

Weakly, the Elf slid to his knees. "Goodbye, my love," he whispered, resigned to his fate, even as the tears spilled from his eyes.

Sadly, he watched Boromir fight, and all too soon, the black shadow came, just as he knew it would. In a last futile effort to change his fate, Elrohir threw himself in the line of fire, and watched hopelessly as the arrows passed through him and sunk deep into the Man's chest. "No," he croaked weakly, pleading for mercy from the Valar, begging them to save his love's life. "Please... no."

Sobbing blindly, Elrohir stumbled to where his lover lay and knelt numbly beside him. The Man's eyes were dilated with pain and fear, but somewhere in his confusion, he sensed the Elf's presence. "Roh?" he rasped, scanning the area desperately.

"I'm here, love," Elrohir whispered soothingly. “I'm here.” Unable to curb the impulse, he lay a hand gently on Boromir's shoulder and frowned in surprise when their flesh made contact.

When he raised his eyes to meet Boromir's he saw the Man staring at him with a look of joy mingled with disbelief. "Roh..." he whispered, his lips parted in awe. "You're here..." Not believing his eyes, Boromir raised his arm to stroke the Elf's smooth cheek, and Elrohir noted dully that even the Man's leather glove passed harmlessly through his skin. So that was it then. He was only corporeal to his lover, his other flesh, the body which he had once been one with.

"Why are you here?" Boromir whispered. Elrohir shook his head.

"I cannot say," the Elf replied sadly. "I could not save you." Weeping softly, he curled up against his lover and laid his head on Boromir's chest. He knew how absurd he must have looked, with the arrows passing harmlessly through his face, but the Man did not wince at either the weight against his chest or the pressure against the wound, and Elrohir wondered if his ethereal body had any density at all, even towards his other flesh.

He could hear the Man wheezing as he examined his lover's injuries. Elrohir shuddered. Slowly but surely, Boromir was choking to death. One of the arrows had pierced a lung and unless something was done quickly, the Man would drown in his own blood.

"I cannot help you," Elrohir cried miserably. "I cannot treat you. I know what I must do, but I cannot do it. I'm not real enough. I cannot even ease your pain-- the herbs for that are practically at your feet but I cannot even touch them... " He passed his hand through the arrows again, to illustrate his point, before curling up helplessly against his lover.

"I am sorry," he whispered, defeated. "There is nothing I can do. I cannot even make the hurt go away."

"Hush," Boromir rasped. "You already have," he whispered, stroking the Elf's long hair. "You have, my love. You already have." Boromir smiled through the fog of pain and held his lover tightly. "Speak to me, Roh," he whispered. "Let me hear your voice."

Elrohir wiped his eyes and searched for something he might say. "Do you remember how you would take me in your arms and tell me how beautiful I am?" he whispered at last. "You said that I was beautiful, that even though I looked just like my twin, Elladan was not beautiful like me. You said there was something special about me, something different that set me apart from all the other Elves you knew... that I had a beautiful heart and it showed in my face... and that I was so beautiful."

Boromir nodded, smiling faintly at the memory, and hugged Elrohir close. "Thank you," the Elf continued. "Nobody has ever said anything like that to me before. Never in my life has anyone differentiated me from my twin that way. I am always the same as him, either that or not as good as him. I am always not good enough. I work, and I try so very hard to be more like him, but he is always so perfect and I always fail. I hate it. I am nothing more than Elladan's shadow. I always have been his shadow and I always will be. But you make me feel special. For that one moment you made me feel that I was worth something. Thank you for that."

The two lay together as the sun moved across the sky. As the hours passed, Elrohir spoke to him softly, smoothing his brow and planting soft kisses on the Man's face as they waited for death to come. When at length he ran out of ideas, the Elf sang softly in his native tongue. Though the queer Elvish words meant nothing to Borromir, Elrohir's voice and presence soothed his lover, and the Man visibly tensed whenever he was silent for too long.

"I'm dying," Boromir strained at last, fighting for breath. "My eyes darken... I... I cannot see you..." he gasped, a trace of alarm running through his voice.

"I'm here," Elrohir said quickly. "I'm here."

"Don't leave me," Boromir rasped, holding his hand tightly. "Please. I... I don't want to die alone."

"I wont leave you," Elrohir whispered back. "I promise. I will never leave you. I love you, hervenn. I love you…" A frown graced the Man's broad forehead as he registered the unfamiliar Elvish name. "Husband," Elrohir said again, seeing the Man's confusion. "My husband."

Instantly a brilliant glow swept across the Man's features. His lips, now stained blue, twitched in the beginnings of a smile, but the words he intended never came. "Hus..." he attempted twice, and yet his desperate fight for air prevented him forever from completing his statement. Helpless, voiceless, his eyes fixed themselves on his love one last time, large yet unseeing, before sinking into the eternal stasis of death.