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Title: Heartbound
Chapter Eight
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
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He told Boromir of his dream that night, while both of them were still engulfed by the warm afterglow of their lovemaking, and to his complete surprise, Boromir had taken his vision seriously. Rather than fighting it however, Man seemed to have accepted his fate so quietly and so calmly that it was almost as if he were being informed of something as trivial and inconsequential as what they would be having for breakfast the next day.

And Elrohir could not understand it. As the tears rolled silently down his cheeks, he wondered how Boromir could approach the subject of his coming death with such calm tranquility. Perhaps his father was right after all. Perhaps this truly was what the Man's life had been leading up to. Perhaps, for the longest time, the Man himself knew it in his heart, had known instinctively from the very first time he picked up his sword that he was destined to fall in battle.

He was a Man of Gondor, Elrohir thought. And that was the problem. The Men of Gondor were desensitized, numbed by the continual assaults that flowed, vile as excretion, from the gates of Mordor. From young, Boromir had been trained as a warrior. He had been conditioned by his bleak reality to live each day as if it were his last, never looking back, and never leaving any room for regret.

"I only wish," he said ruefully, "that I could have seen my brother one last time. Just to tell him how much I love him. Just so that he would know. Just so that he might gain strength from my faith in him. My father will not take the news well."

"And what about me?" Elrohir breathed, "What about us?"

Boromir smiled sadly, and then pulled his lover in for a kiss. "You knew it would not last, dear one," he murmured against the Elf's soft lips. "I belong elsewhere, and I am but a Man. I am not immortal. And unless I underestimate you, you would not leave the splendor of Rivendell for the Man-stench of Gondor. Not even for me. Not even if I asked you to."

And Elrohir was forced to acknowledge the truth of the Man's words. Much as he wanted to, he would not leave his home for the Man-city. He would not leave the safety of his family nest to be an exile among mortals. The smell would slowly drive him crazy, and their uncouth behavior would alienate him to his end.

"I would not be able to survive," he agreed quietly. "My father has lived amongst Men in battle. He is better suited to dwell amongst mortals. I might be a warrior who rides with the Rangers, but there I am in the wild, not penned up like an animal. And even then I am amongst people I know. Even then I am with my twin. You are right, Boromir. Gondor would be the death of me."

Boromir shrugged helplessly. "Even if I were to come to you, it would only be for a month or two at a time," the Man conceded. "And ten years is all it would take before my body will start to resist the hard journey to Rivendell... but hush now," he crooned, pulling Elrohir close and melting into his lover's lithe frame. "Let us not darken our thoughts for the present. What must come must come, and tonight is too beautiful for us to let it slip by unheeded. Come, let us enjoy each other's presence while we still can."

They made love, softly and slowly, and Elrohir wished it could go on forever. He dreaded the time when Boromir would pull away from his body and leave him cold and lonely, just as he lived in dread of the day of Boromir's departure.

If only life were a painting, he would capture this moment forever. Two months was too short a time to spend with his newfound love. Oh, if only he could live, frozen and suspended for eternity within the soft tints that danced across the canvas. There, a single moment was perfect and everlasting, and Elrohir wished he could capture that moment and never have to let it end. He could live etched this way forever, preserved for eternity by an artist's skilled hand. Ai, that tomorrow will never come, now that every new dawn brought him closer to his lover's death. He wanted Boromir forever...

"Don't stop..." he mewled as Boromir moved against him. Closing his eyes, he arched his back and twined his long pale legs wantonly around his lover's waist, willing the Man deeper into his body. "Ai..." he gasped, drawing the Man closer to him, "Boromir... please... please... ai, please... don't ever let me go..."

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As the weeks flew past, Elladan noticed something very queer about his twin. The stress of the relationship was leaving it's mark: his skin lost it's luster, his eyes hung heavy with the repressed demands of sleep, and he grew surprisingly unreasonable and impatient. It worried Elladan. He was convinced that driven by the fear of the impending separation, his twin kept a nightly vigil while his lover slept. He knew that while their Naneth was ill, Elrohir would sit in her bedside chair, silent and sad while her vitality seeped out of her, and observing his twin now, Elladan was sure that his brother was reenacting his over-zealous nocturnal wakefulness.

"You cannot keep doing this to yourself," he had chided his brother once over breakfast, but Elrohir had turned large, mournful eyes back to him.

"What else can I do," Elrohir had whispered back, the ache in his voice oppressively obvious to his twin. "What else can I do, brother? I feel him slipping away. Every second that passes is one second less of our time together. I do not want to miss even a moment of it, Brother. I cannot."

The younger Elf sighed, and pushed his food around on his plate with his spoon. "Besides, I do not have long to go," he said softly. "Boromir will leave before we know it, and then... and then, I will close my eyes and... sleep."

His twin's fatalism sent a shudder running through Elladan's being. Blanching white, he turned and studied the other's face anxiously as he tried to grasp the meaning of his brother's words. "You *are* referring to a healing sleep, Rohir... are you not? Just a brief repose to regain your vitality?"

But Elrohir only smiled sadly, his eyes downcast.

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The night before the departure was a somber affair. The pair had retired early and stood silently in Elrohir's balcony, arms entwined as they watched the setting sun cast it's long shadows across the land and bathe the sky in an ocean of blood. When at length, the crimson orb dipped beneath the horizon, the two shuddered in unison. Day had passed, and night had come all too quickly for the lovers.

Unable to hold them back any longer, Elrohir let his tears flow freely down his cheeks, and watching his lover's silent sobs, Boromir was unable to keep the stray tears that spilled unbidden from his eyes. He drew the distraught Elf close and hugged him tightly, so tightly that Boromir was surprised his lover did not cry out in pain.

Torn between giving comfort and receiving it, Boromir buried his nose into his lover's hair and inhaled his lover's scent deep into his system. "I love you," he choked. Like his tears, the anguished words that left his lips had come as a rude shock to him, and he blinked in disbelief at his unconscious confession.

"You... what?" Elrohir's red-rimmed eyes rose to meet his, wide with a mixture of both hope and fear. "What did you say... Boromir?" Suddenly weary, he closed his eyes and swallowed hard, then shuddered once more into tears and buried his head in his lover's shoulder. "Ai, Boromir... my Boromir...my life... Why did you have to say it now?" he sighed, clinging desperately to his beloved. "Things are already... too hard as it is."

Boromir closed his eyes and rocked his lover, the slow rhythmic movements calming both him and his Elf. "I apologize," he whispered sadly into Elladan's dark tresses. "I should have told you sooner. I should have told you that I love you. Roh, I have loved you since..." he trailed off, letting his eyes wander unseeingly across the starry sky.

"Do you remember the time, Rohir," he said, a soft smile touching his lips, "when you took me by the hand and told me to trust you? You pressed my hand to your chest and let me feel your heartbeat. And I have been under your spell ever since. I love you, Roh. You mean everything to me."

"I would not tie you to me," the Man continued. "Once I am gone, I would have you love again. I would have you smile again. I would have you be happy. I will die, one way or another, be it with the Company, or defending my country, or maybe even of old age, but when that happens I would want you to seek your own happiness without me. All I ask is that you cherish my memory," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Cherish the memory of us, and what we had, and what we shared. Remember that I will always love you... and know that not even death can ever take that away from me."

"I cannot live without you--"

"You will," Boromir cut in firmly. "You must. You will promise me this, Roh."

"I cannot..." he faltered. "I am not strong enough..."

"I have composed a letter," Boromir said quietly. "And you must be my messenger. I will not entrust this task to anyone but you. If your dream comes true and I do not live to see the White City again, you will ride to Gondor, you will seek out my brother, and you will give it to him. You must grant me this one last favor, Roh. I beg it of you."