Posted: October 2003
Title: Revenge: The First Step
Series; A Question of Leadership
Sequel to: Elvish Whispers
Author: Foofy
Type: FCS
Characters: Aragorn/Boromir, Legolas
Rating: NC17
Warnings: None
Disclaimers: Don't own them, don't wish to be sued, be nice!
Summary: Third in the A Question of Leadership series. The humans try to get even with the elf.

*****

Revenge: The First Step

Legolas was feeling smug. It was a nice sensation, he reflected as they continued their daily trudge over random landscapes, something to keep you jolly and satisfied through the days of mud, stones, brambles and dangerously low branches that always threatened to mess up one's hair.

Legolas glanced towards the two warriors again, and smirked to himself at their feeble attempts at being subtle towards each other. Ever since he had forced their hand they had been so attentive to each other that it was in danger of becoming extremely slushy. Who would have known, Legolas mused to himself as he carefully avoided a rock that Sam had just tripped over, that Aragorn could be quite so romantic? Apart from possibly Arwen., but what did women know about these things.

Yes, he concluded, casting another look back at the lovers. It was definitely worthwhile and right to have become involved with their romantic tussling, to allow the love to blossom and bloom into the touching - if slightly nauseating - sight today. The entertainment factor was purely an unintentional side effect.

Honest.

Satisfied, with just a hint of pride, Legolas turned back just in time to be hit fully in the face with a swinging tree branch, accompanied by a most undignified wet splat sound. This was not according to plan, and almost completely ruined the moment of smugness. The sounds of Aragorn trying not to snigger behind him grated on Legolas' ego; Boromir hadn't even made the attempt at restraint, and was roaring with laughter.

Furiously, Legolas wiped off the few leaves that were desperately clinging to him and glared at whoever it was who had dared to attack the Prince of Mirkwood with, of all things, nature. Pippin beamed back at him.

"Sorry!" he said cheerfully. " Accident!"

Merry, who had watched his cousin deliberately locate a suitable low hanging branch, aim and time it exactly, gave Pippin a worried look. Legolas awarded Pippin with a scowl that could have withered a good size redwood.

"That's okay," he replied through gritted teeth. Pippin nodded happily, and scampered towards Gandalf to avoid any repercussions from the elf. Merry stared after him, looked back at Legolas who was giving him a suspicious look, and belted up the path behind him.

"What are you doing?" Merry hissed as soon as they were tagging behind the security that was Gandalf.

"Walking," Pippin gave him a surprised look.

"Not now, then!" Merry gestured frantically behind them. " The branch!"

"Ah!" Pippin's eyes gave a worrying twinkle, and leant closer to his cousin. " That's called the art of revenge, Merry,"

"No, it's called being bloody stupid, Pip!" Merry stared at him, then glanced nervously over his shoulder in case Legolas was sneaking up on them. " What have I always told you?"

"Always bathe after mud fights?"

"No! I mean, yes!"

"Never talk to Sam when he's cooking?"

"Never get into an argument with someone who's got better weapons than you!" hissed Merry.

Pippin frowned. " But everyone's got better weapons than me," he protested. " Even a weasel's got better weapons than me,"

Merry sighed. Pippin was very sensitive about the whole Weasel episode. " Why revenge on Legolas, anyway?" he said finally, dodging past a sharp rock that had been lying in ambush on the path for unwary hobbits.

Pippin grinned at him happily. " Revenge for what he did to Boromir!"

Merry rolled his eyes. " I think Boromir's big enough to sort out his own revenge, Pip!"

Pippin grinned, and peered back at Boromir, who at that point had managed to surreptitiously grab Aragorn's hand in his own, lean over and plant a kiss on the ranger's cheek. " I think he's busy,"

Merry rolled his eyes again. The fact that both Aragorn and Boromir had recently become extremely "busy" had not escaped the attention of anyone apart from possibly Sam, who was too busy fretting about Frodo to worry much about the romantic status of the rest of the group. They both, for example, seemed to go on a lot more scouting missions together, normally at dusk, which tended to result in an in-depth knowledge about surrounding clearings and whether there was a stream nearby.

"And what did you have in mind?" he said finally.

Pippin grinned at him again.

*****

Gandalf had called a rest break. It was usually Aragorn who decided on these matters, but he had spent most of his time in the rear, " in case they were being followed,". Gandalf had heard many excuses in his time, from " It just blew up in my hands," to " It's a really small army - how was I supposed to spot it?", and Aragorn's attempt ranked just above the " My dog ate my sword," excuse.

The calling of the rest break automatically produced the cooking utensils from the hobbits in record breaking time. Sam had been going on about a possibly of malnutrition in Frodo, and had been eagerly trying to feed him up for a couple of days, much to Frodo's uneasiness about the emphasis on a good sausage. As the others settled down, Gandalf decided to seize his chance to get at least five minutes with Aragorn before he started becoming "busy" again, and dragged him off to the side.

"We're making good time," said the wizard, thoughtfully. " but I fear it is becoming too easy."

Aragorn murmured a reply. His attention was being physically assaulted by the sight of Boromir stretching lazily some distance behind Gandalf's shoulder. Hastily, he tried to avert his eyes and focus on what the wizard was saying, who luckily seemed to looking at the view. Nothing to see there, he thought determinedly. No. Definitely not. My mind will not wander into thinking about how his muscles feel under the palm of my hand, neither will it meander around memories of him trembling beneath me, and certainly it will not roam into the areas of the moans and cries that he makes when he -

"... and of course it would be terrible for us all. What do you think?" asked the wizard.

Aragorn looked panicked for a minute, then grasped the nearest answer that he could find. " It's a bit early to say, really,"

Gandalf raised an eyebrow, sighed in what appeared to be agreement, and looked back at the view again. Aragorn gave a sigh of relief.

"You may be right." he said softly. " We cannot assume anything just on the basis of past performances. Who knows what will come before us? There was talk of-" and the wizard continued, going into detail of tales of monsters and demons, dark magic and terrors.

Aragorn listened with half an ear, which became considerably less when Boromir stripped off his tunic and started to massage a shoulder. I should be doing that! thought Aragorn, sulkily. He watched Boromir's half naked form longingly, the way the Man kneaded the firm muscle with a strong practiced hand, remembering the nights when those hands were on his own muscles, kneading, relaxing, before drifting lower, the strong squeezing pressing actions transforming into smooth, stroking caresses that made him squirm in pleasure. The nights when they tussled together, trying to emerge triumphant over the other and claim the prize that was so obviously on offer. The memories of sliding into that firm, warm, welcoming body, hearing his lover moan gently in invitation.

".. of course, no one has seen the Stone Giants in a long long time, but that doesn't mean that don't still exist. They might be shy. No one ever considers Giants feelings, basic courtesy just doesn't get taught these days. Or indeed, the Giants could be inconvenienced. However, even if they did cross our paths, it would not be quite as alarming as..."

Aragorn continued to gaze at Boromir, giving occasional grunts and murmurs in response to the wizard's talk. Boromir seemed to be quite oblivious to Aragorn's desperate long distance longing, and was still paying his own shoulder attention, laughing at something Pippin was saying to him. The hobbit was perched on top of another one of the huge boulders that this landscape seemed to be inundated with, and was chatting nineteen to the dozen in his normal fashion.

"... dragons, on the other hand, are a different matter. You will, of course, remember Samorg, and what he was capable of. We did get through a remarkable amount of ponies as well, and it was lucky that ..." Gandalf continued.

Aragorn felt his mind freeze and his loins give a violent kick as Boromir glanced in his direction; with his eyes on Aragorn, Boromir started to slowly stroke his own chest, making sure Aragorn could see his actions clearly. The wicked smile on Boromir's face was enough to make Aragorn want to go over there and spank him. The ranger's mouth grew drier as he followed the warrior's movements, his mind whispering other ideas to fuel the fires in a moment of bodily unco-operation.
" .. furthermore," Gandalf added, his eyes drifting back to the ranger in front of him. " these problems are always solved when we barbecue the hobbits as a sacrifice to one of the great sky lords. And then of course I could poke out my own eye with my staff, which would add to the mix. Do you think this would be a good idea?"

"Sure, yeah," said Aragorn, completely distracted by the sight of the wandering hands, giving rise to thoughts of Boromir's naked oiled body coiled around him, hands everywhere, muscles trembling in response, tongue on his neck interplayed with kisses over him...

Gandalf sighed.

"Aragorn,"

.. Boromir moving gently against his skin, softly at first, but growing harder and more impatient, willing him, pleading with him to take him, to make him complete; the hands growing more insistent, stroking, probing, exploring and possessing every inch of his body...

"Aragorn,"

... the feelings of pure desire burning through his body, desperately needing release, his body rammed up against Boromir's so that his lover could feel the heat, the need, the yearning that he felt towards him; and then slowly, gently, relishing every moment, slipping inside him, feeling those sensations course through his body at the feel of the tight...

"ARAGORN!!"

Aragorn jumped, as did most of the Fellowship who had been lounging around waiting for the sausages to cook. Gimli almost dropped his axe; Sam cried in shock, which tripled in volume as one of the sausages fell off a plate. Boromir had managed to catch his nipple with a nail, and was now rubbing it to try to stop the stinging. Pippin fell off his rock. Even Legolas jerked his head up at the sudden shout.

Conscious of everyone's surprised gaze on him (apart from Sam, who was desperately trying to perform first aid on the martyred sausage), Aragorn flushed and looked extremely sheepish. Gandalf glared at him.

"You haven't been listening to a word I've said, have you,"

Aragorn considered the question, then slowly shook his head. Gandalf glanced over his shoulder and noted Boromir's state of undress, then turned his hardened expression back onto Aragorn, who was squirming nicely under the scrutiny.

"For heaven's sake, Aragorn, pull yourself together! This is causing more disruption than if the pair of you were fighting! Thank god I only told you to go talk to him at Rivendell. I'd hate to think what may have happened if I'd used stronger language!" Gandalf paused as a thought struck him. " I told you to go talk to Gimli, you didn't ...?" Gandalf gestured with a hand.

"No!!"

"Just checking," Satisfied with the horrified look he had just received, Gandalf settled himself in a more comfortable position on a log and gave another assessing look to Boromir, who had managed to work out the lie of the land and was now hurriedly getting dressed again. His eyes also took in the figure of Legolas, now lounging against a tree.

"Have you ensured that Legolas will not do anything more to affect the situation?"

"Yee-ess," said Aragorn doubtfully. His mind hadn't really thought about Legolas, preferring to obsess on other things like Boromir's naked form, Boromir's actions whilst naked, and .. well, just Boromir really...

"Aragorn, if I see that dreamy look cross your face once more I will clout you with my staff," said Gandalf irritably.

Aragorn pulled himself together.

"I shall talk to him," he promised. Gandalf sighed.

"Talk being the conveying or exchange of idea by spoken words or the Aragorn special?"

Aragorn resisted the urge to stick out his tongue at the wizard for fear of being clouted.

*****

When Aragorn finally managed to slink back to the others, he found Boromir in the process of being talked at by Pippin. Merry was sulking nearby, arms folded, a mixture of fury and nervous tension invading his face. Boromir's eyes slid to acknowledge the presence of Aragorn, before turning back to Pippin, who was becoming even more animated in his speech than normal.

"And that's what I think we should do!" finished Pippin, proudly.

"Do what?" asked Aragorn, crouching beside Merry. " And why are you over here and not with the others?"

"Pippin believes that we should take revenge upon Legolas," said Boromir dryly. " And I have to admit, I agree with him."

Aragorn blinked. Pippin looked startled for a moment, then beamed proudly. Merry looked furious, and kept glancing around to check for elvish eavesdroppers.

Aragorn looked at Boromir in surprise. " You never said anything about wanting revenge!" he said accusingly.

"Well, how could I?" retorted Boromir. " Every time I open my mouth to say anything I find your tongue down it,"

"And you're complaining are you?" Aragorn raised an eyebrow and grinned mischievously.

"Er..." said Pippin.

Their attention was diverted back to him, much to Pippin's relief. Aragorn sighed, and moved to properly sit down.

"What did you have in mind?" Aragorn asked finally.

Merry gave a snort. " Mind? What mind!!"

"Oi!" Pippin sulked for a few moments, then got bored of it. " He's only grumpy 'cause he's worried about what Legolas will do. "

"Don't worry Merry," grinned Boromir, making a macho pose. " I'll protect you,"

Merry looked slightly more at ease as a result of this statement; his furious look seemed to dissolve into something more resembling nervous agitation. " Yeah, but you might turn round and get shot full of arrows or something!" he squeaked. " And we wouldn't be able to do anything! Just watch you bleed to death with arrows coming out of your chest!!"

Boromir laughed. " I'm not going to get shot full of arrows, Merry!" he replied cheerfully. " I've got other things to do with my time than get Horribly Massacred,"

Merry looked at him unconvinced. Pippin shivered. Aragorn adjusted his position carefully, and patted Merry on the head.

"I'm not going to let Boromir get killed, Merry," he said softly, his eyes drifting to Boromir as he spoke. " They'll have to go through me first,"

Boromir grinned. " My hero,"

Pippin, now reassured that Boromir was unlikely to become a bad copy of a porcupine, continued on his favorite revenge topics. However, Aragorn stopped him mid-explanation of a trap.

"We can't do anything that may endanger the Fellowship," he said. " Stripping Legolas and hiding his clothes may be fun-" he ignored the sharper look emanating from Boromir at this, " but he wouldn't be able to fight as well if Orcs attacked,"

"What about a pit?" asked Merry.

Boromir gave a snigger. " He'd ponce right over it without breaking a twig," he commented.

"Spike his drink?" offered Pippin.

"Back to the night attack. And do you really want a drunken elf with a load of arrows?" Aragorn raised an eyebrow. Pippin had to concede the point.

"Well, what if we made sure nothing was coming?" asked Merry, with a sideways glance at Pippin. " We haven't seen anything more threatening than a weasel!"

"It was a big weasel!" said Pippin defensively.

Aragorn exchanged glances with Boromir, who shrugged.

"Why on earth would being drunk be a great revenge anyway?" asked Boromir, who was always up for the less subtle plans.

Pippin frowned in great concentration. " It's a shame, " he said slowly. " that we don't have any knock-out potions or something. 'Cause then we could get him to wake up in an embarrassing situation or something,"

They all looked at Aragorn, who was well known for his wonderful and slightly disturbing knowledge of unusual and potent herbs. Aragorn shifted uncomfortably under the weight of the looks.

"It's all very childish," he said finally. " And we don't know what he'll be up to tonight either,"

"Oh, he'll be in the bushes watching you two again I should think," said Merry automatically. " He normally does,"

The hobbits were suddenly aware of an increase in tension. Merry edged away from the now frozen Aragorn beside him, while Pippin made sure he was a safe distance away from Boromir, who was doing a remarkable impression of a statue (except without the moss). Boromir stared at Aragorn, then seemed to snap out of his trance.

"I'll bloody kill him!"

Aragorn still hadn't said anything. The hobbits watched warily as Boromir paced around the little patch of grass like a really pissy tiger in a cage. Finally, Aragorn spoke:

"What sort of embarrassing situation did you have in mind?" he asked. Pippin glanced at Merry, shrugged, and turned back.

"We'd sort it!" he chirped, eager to get into the good books of anyone who currently had a frown as deep as Aragorn's. Merry looked merely shocked.

"But didn't you say earlier that it was childish?" he said.

Aragorn gave a snort of amusement. " Since when have you lot listened to me anyway?" He gaze fell on the still stalking figure of Boromir, whose fury had not abated but was clearly under check as the nearby trees were not being slashed into toothpicks (this being his normal style of stress relief.). Thankfully Boromir's rages did not tend to last long, as the warrior didn't have the attention span that this sort of feud would need.

"And we can carry on with the stuff we were doing!" continued Pippin, also conscious of the prowling force that was Boromir. Aragorn looked at him sharply.

"What stuff?" he asked.

"Er, " said Pippin. " This and that,"

Aragorn leant forward. " Exactly," he said slowly. " how much this and how much that?" He noticed Merry trying to sneak away, and his eyes narrowed further. " Exactly what have you done?"

"Does Legolas like pink?" asked Pippin.

Aragorn looked at him, trying to work out where this was leading. " I don't know," he replied. " I've never really spoken to him on the subject of pink,"

Pippin smiled. "Soon find out then!" he said.

It was actually about five minutes later that they discovered whether or not he liked pink.

*****

Legolas had become suspicious. There was a remarkable amount to be suspicious about, as far as he was concerned. He had noted Merry and Pippin's strange behavior to him much earlier, but he had thought little of it; Merry and Pippin tended to act strange to nearly everyone at one point or another. Legolas was still amused by their earlier fascination with Gandalf's hat, or with Gimli's beard (the latter being a lot less graceful about the prying, and who had threatened to show them exactly what being a dwarf was all about. Neither Legolas nor the hobbits had any idea what he would have shown them, but thankfully they hadn't pressed the matter for which Legolas would be eternally grateful).

However, this current behavior was going far beyond their usual strangeness. Whereas previously it had been fuelled by a youthful curiosity, the situation appeared to have altered. Legolas mused on the possibility that it could be linked to Boromir - Pippin did seem to have an unhealthy fixation on the warrior, which Boromir (being a Man) had no idea about - but dismissed this quickly. Boromir wasn't the type to sneak around in the dark, preferring to stand up to his enemies in full view. Really, thought Legolas sadly, he might as well stick a target to his chest.

Legolas considered the problem further while munching on an apple. He hadn't even been remotely tempted by the offer of one of Sam's fat sausages, much to the hobbit's relief who promptly tried to force it on the reluctant Frodo. He was also beginning to be concerned about the disappearance of the two hobbits when Boromir and Aragorn were also absent from the group. Legolas would have started to search for them, if not for the steady glare of Gandalf from the corner. What the wizard had against him was unclear, but the elf preferred not to push it. Unfortunately, he could not even make an excuse to wash as he had already disappeared to the nearby stream earlier.

Legolas sighed, and moved to his pack, dropping the apple core carefully in a suitable spot. Stripping himself of his light leather armor, he reached into his pack to retrieve his spare white tunic.

Which had suddenly and inexplicably turned a pinky-red color.

*****

Boromir had reached the stream, sulking badly. His suggestion of breaking elves had been dismissed by Aragorn, albeit carefully, and he had now been told to re-fill their water flasks as an obvious ploy to get him out the way. The hobbits had come along with him, tagging behind his heels like two faithful if noisy hounds. Merry had started a debate over which berry was the best, and was now cheerfully arguing the merits of wild strawberries.

With the argument raging behind his back, Boromir crouched down to start filling the flasks. He judged that raspberries were now winning, on the basis (according to Pippin) that you could eat them AND blow them. The philosophy of small roundish fruits was suddenly dropped when Pippin was uncharacteristically silent and cocked his head to one side in a reasonable imitation of a bird spying a particularly juicy worm.

"Did you hear anything?"

Merry paused. " Like what?" suddenly a thought came to him. " It's not Legolas is it?!"

Boromir started to screw up the first flask. " You don't hear elves," he said, over his shoulder. " That's the point,"

However, this proved to be an inaccurate statement. Forgetting all about the correct etiquette for elves, Legolas stormed into their area, an impressive frown on his face, material clenched in his fist. His eyes took in the presence of the two hobbits, both staring at him in shock, mouths open. Boromir, who being crouched by the waters edge was being partly concealed by another one of the big rocks, was utterly ignored.

Legolas waved the offending article of pinkish clothing in Merry's face, being the closer of the two hobbits. Surprised and alarmed by such an unusual attack, Merry stepped backwards, only to trip over an inconvenient tree root and land heavily on his back. Pippin immediately jumped up to defend his now flattened cousin from the wrath of the fashion elf.

"Oi!" he said. As a rousing and dangerous speech, Pippin felt it needed work, but at a pinch Oi would have to do. Besides which, Legolas didn't seem to be in the mood for rousing. In fact, he was doing a remarkable job of acting like a raging mob by himself, which was always impressive when done by someone of Legolas' stature.

Pippin cringed as the dark gaze fell onto him, but attempted to stand his ground. His ground suddenly became slightly less important to him as the staring intensified. Hey, his mind whispered. Its only a piece of mud. Sacrifice it! Run away! Run away! After all, the traitorous voice continued, you are, after all, only a very small hobbit.

Finally Legolas spoke. " You did this," he growled.

Merry, who had always thought that elves were too refined to growl anything, scrambled to his feet and began to back away in what he deemed was a suitable retreat. Pippin drew himself up to his full height. This would have been more effective, he reflected, if I could stare him in the eye rather than the stomach.

"I did not!" he said, automatically.

Legolas gave a mocking laugh. He was good at mocking laughs. He had spent many years simply practicing the mocking laugh, occasionally with use of a suitable mirror.

"If not you," he said, " who else?"

"Me,"

Legolas paused, and slowly turned his head to view Boromir lazily lounging by the rock that had so usefully concealed his presence. The warrior appeared to be nonchalantly examining his fingernails, as if he had suddenly obtained a great desire to worry about manicures. His sword was casually held his other hand, as though it had suddenly got there of its own accord and was now viewing the landscape.

Boromir's eyes slowly left his fingernails, and met Legolas' gaze steadily. Legolas hesitated in the face of this new threat, although not a twitch nor a flicker gave away this new state of mind on his face.

Boromir, however, was still looking as though he was on quite a relaxing holiday by the seaside. He detached himself from the rock in an effortless move, and strolled over to where the elf was stood, frozen to the spot.

"Did you wish to say anything about it?" he continued, in a warm friendly voice that was normally associated with kindly little old ladies with vast amounts of biscuits and a desire to feed all the children they could lay their hands on.

"You did this?" asked Legolas, in a cold but slightly bewildered voice. Mad tunic dying warriors had not previously come to his attention. Boromir, whose rock had also concealed the offending article from his view and therefore had no idea what it was that he had actually claimed, nodded grimly.

"How did you do it?" continued Legolas, still bemused by the turn of events. Boromir hesitated.

"It's an old Gondorian trick," he offered. From the corner of his eye he noticed Pippin scamper behind Legolas and start signaling frantically. Boromir suddenly started wishing for a book of hobbit gestures.

Legolas was still giving him a strange stare, as if Boromir had pulled half a dozen white rabbits from his breeches and was now doing something strange with brightly colored handkerchiefs. Boromir didn't really take this in, as he was watching Pippin mime an action which looked like he was trying to drown some small furry animal.

"Why would you do something like this?" continued the elf.

Boromir smiled. He could do this one. " To keep you from prying into other people's business," he said coldly.

Legolas blinked. " How would a pink tunic stop this?" he enquired, fascinated despite his irritation. Boromir paused. The conversation had suddenly strayed upon dangerous lands that he was unfamiliar with. His eyes took in the reddy pink tunic in Legolas' hand, then Pippin's shrug behind the elf.

"Because," he said finally. Good God, he thought, this better not get back to Gondor. Faramir would have a field day.

Legolas nodded, as if Boromir had said something sage and wise. " I see," he said, giving a knowing smile. " This is some petty form of revenge,"

Boromir's grip on his sword hilt grew tighter. He gave a grim smile. " I tend not to do petty," he said softly. " Neither do I dally around with being subtle."

Legolas' eyes narrowed. " Are you threatening me?"

"Well done," Boromir raised a mocking eyebrow. Legolas bristled at this. Only he had the right to be mocking. It was part of his heritage.

The hobbits had been watching this exchange in worried fascination. At the sight of Legolas reaching for one of the weirdly bent but nevertheless deadly daggers that he carried, Merry decided that action was called for. Or at least Aragorn was called for, supplier of action in many forms. Never had a hobbit run so fast, except for possibly Terene Proudfoot and the Episode of Kicking the Really Big Wasp Nest.

Pippin, meanwhile, was attempting to become Chief Hobbit Negotiator.

"Hang on!" he squeaked. Oh yes, whispered the traitorous voice in the back of his mind, first Oi, then Hang On. You're really good at this public speaking...

He was relieved to notice that both warriors had, indeed, hung on, although they were still gripping their hilts as though their lives depended on it and trying to burn through the others eyes with their stare. What Pippin hadn't realized was that this situation had occurred simply because both fighters were waiting for the first move rather than any hobbit ability.

The situation was tense. The surrounding forest had suddenly become quiet, as though the local wildlife were equally waiting for the fight to start. No doubt, thought Pippin gloomily, there was a badger somewhere taking bets. You could never trust badgers.

He searched desperately for something better to say, something wise, something suitable, something that could defuse the situation so they could all go off for tea and muffins with a cheerful smile and a slap on the back.

"Er," he managed.

Oh bravo, said the little voice sarcastically.

Thankfully, Pippin speech was suddenly disrupted by the rustling of bushes that indicated that someone was coming towards them at high speed. Aragorn? thought Pippin hopefully. Possibly even Gandalf?

Boromir caught the sight of the saucepan and hobbit coming hurtling towards him out of the corner of his eye. Not again! he thought before leaping sideways into a nearby bush, sending an innocent hedgehog scuttling out of the leaves towards safety from mad Men. Legolas, who had not yet had the privilege of having a speeding hobbit and saucepan charging directly at him, simply stood and stared at the unusual sight.

However, Sam was not interested in either Legolas or the now extremely leafy Boromir, or even the uneasy Pippin who had suddenly remembered about the biscuit he had "borrowed" yesterday; heading straight for the stream, Sam dunked the saucepan into the water, made a miraculous swivel around on his heels and belted off the way he had came, bellowing something about Frodo needing boiled eggs and causing a fine spray of water as he ran back with the full pan. He narrowly missed Aragorn and an exhausted Merry who were also speedily trampling their way through the undergrowth.

"What's going on?" snapped Aragorn, finally reaching the stream. " What's happened? Where ... why are you in that bush?"

Boromir carefully removed a leafy twig that had been accidentally decorating his hair, and stepped out of his leafy refuge. " Defenses against strange hobbits,"

"Oh," Aragorn looked puzzled for a moment, then re-focused on Legolas, who was the most obvious one with a weapon. " Put it away, Legolas," he snapped harshly.

Legolas gave a snort. "For him to threaten me again? I think not,"

Aragorn gave a quick glance at Boromir, who was currently fighting a horrible feeling that parts of his clothing had been invaded by small creepy crawlies of various species, then turned his furious gaze back on the elf.

"I will not have the Fellowship destroyed by petty bickering," he said irritably. Legolas raised an eyebrow, and turned to Boromir.

"*Petty* bickering?" he said softly. Boromir scowled angrily, and made to step towards Legolas. However, a sharp glare from Aragorn held him in place, albeit grudgingly.

"All he - we - want is for you to stay out of our business," said Aragorn steadily, uncomfortably aware that he was unlikely to be able to keep Boromir under control for very long. Boromir had a nasty habit of being rather explosive, even if he did have a ladybird crawling over one of his gauntlets at the time.

Legolas gave another trademark mocking laugh. " Your business? If left to your own devices the pair of you would still be at each other's throats. In a bad way," Legolas glared at the ladybird invested Boromir. " This is typical of Men. No skills whatsoever, just the ability to be randomly violent."

Aragorn struggled to keep his random violence under control. " You are a valued member of the Fellowship, Legolas-"

"Obviously,"

"- however," continued Aragorn, through gritted teeth, " you should stay away from us,"

Legolas gave him a surprised look. " Are you threatening me too, Aragorn?"

"By jingo, I think he's got it," muttered Boromir, but shut up again after another harsh glare from his lover. Legolas looked from one to the other carefully, as if trying to memories them.

There was a pause that was swiftly followed by a silence. Aragorn was aware of Boromir moving to stand directly behind, a comforting presence and one, he admitted to himself, that would allow him to be able to grab Boromir quickly if the warrior made to kebab the elf. Although he must remember to tease him about the phrase jingo as soon as humanly possible.

The silence lasted for some time, neither side wishing to make the first move. The hobbits, who had perched themselves in suitable yet safe seating positions, watched avidly. However, it soon got a bit boring and the constant trickle of water nearby started to affect Pippin drastically. The need to fertilize the bushes grew in his mind until it had taken over all other thoughts, including what was for dinner. Sliding off his rock, giving a quick explanation to Merry in the form of a gesture, Pippin hurried into the undergrowth, sending a badger fleeing away. I knew it, thought Pippin.

Legolas gave a condescending look at Aragorn. " I know you have these wonderful ideas that you are in charge, Aragorn. But please don't assume the rest of us have the same delusion,"

Aragorn glared at him. Boromir growled from behind the ranger's left shoulder. Delighted at the nerve he had just struck, Legolas casually moved position.

"When Gandalf whistles, you just come running, don't you? Like your lover," Legolas' eyes slid across to Boromir, " comes running to you whenever you beckon. It's quite pathetic really. But what can we expect from such a species that allowed the ring to survive in the first place,"

Aragorn stiffened. His attention was too distracted to allow him to react quickly enough when Boromir, whose patience had finally snapped, barged past him and slammed the elf against a tree. Legolas, who had expected such a move, smiled into the warrior's enraged eyes then moved his gaze onto Aragorn, who was still stood in the same position.

"Back to the random violence?" he commented. Merry had to admit, for someone who had a furious Boromir in his face, Legolas did not look worried in the slightest. There was only the faintest wince as Boromir tightened his grip on the elf.

"Boromir," warned Aragorn.

Legolas smiled patronizingly at Boromir. " Go on doggie," he sneered, " Back to your master,"

Boromir raised a fist, teeth gritted.

"Boromir!" snapped Aragorn. The fist hesitated for a brief second, before taking on its own initiative and landing quite firmly into Legolas' face. Boromir released the elf, and took a few steps back, random violence sated. Legolas ignored the thin trickle of blood that was coming from a split lip, and stared defiantly at Aragorn, who was staring back at him in shock.

Boromir spat on the ground and walked to stand beside Merry's perch, the hobbit being the safer of his two allies at that present moment. The warrior studied his own boots, not willing to meet Aragorn's eyes quite at that moment. He could already feel the disapproval come off the ranger in waves.

Slowly and deliberately, Legolas wiped off the blood with the back of his hand, his eyes firmly set on Aragorn.

"So is that how you try to keep a pretence of control, Aragorn?" he said, coldly. " Physical strength is a poor and oppressive ...," the elf trailed off, his eyes unfocused as he concentrated on his hearing. He snapped his head towards the direction that Pippin had taken, and grabbed his weapons.

Merry looked blank then horrified at the implications, and looked desperately towards the direction that he had last seen his cousin as if he could scan through the thick foliage that hid the distance.

"Pippin!" he wailed. Boromir grabbed the hobbit as Merry tried to scramble towards the wood, and positioned himself between the Hobbit and the advancing danger. Neither Aragorn or himself could hear anything as of yet, keeping their eyes firmly fixed on Legolas who was indicating with a hand which way the approach was coming.

"We've got to help him!" Merry desperately tried to get round the warrior who blocked his path, but Boromir continued to keep the hobbit behind him with an arm.

"Be still and quiet, little one," he whispered. Merry subsided, anxious eyes still on the undergrowth.

The noise was becoming to grow enough for all four to hear an approach through the bushes, as if something was crashing through the undergrowth without care for paths or easy routes through the uncompromising forest. Aragorn and Legolas moved to positions that they could easily defend the small clearing.

Suddenly Pippin breached the last foliage hurdle and crashed into the clearing, tripping over the same tree root that Merry had had difficulty with and skidding to a dusty and undignified halt in front of Boromir's boots. Boromir had hoisted the hobbit to his feet and shoved him behind him as the first orcs bounded into the clearing, slowing in surprise at the presence of three armed, furious and most of all prepared warriors standing in front of them, two hobbit faces peering anxiously from behind the solid armored mass that was Boromir.

The first orc, a large muddy looking creature with more than its fair share of scars, made the mistake of immediately charging at Boromir, screaming a random curse that they presumsed had a death theme to it. Boromir obliged with an almost effortless swing that sent the creature crashing to the ground in a decorative mixture of dust, blood and leaf, but was slightly off balance as the next orc, who evidently was undeterred by the death of its colleague, charged in with what appeared to be an axe that had fallen on harder times. However, it had not acknowledged the presence of Aragorn, whose carefully placed sword managed to kebab the orc using its own momentum.

After this first brief attack, the clearing got busier; the hobbits, who had worked out exactly where not to stand, had managed to scramble up to the relative safety of one of the trees, and was now perched on a thick high branch just out of spear reach like two rather fat and clothed squirrels. Unlike squirrels, however, they were engaged in hurling down the large heavy nuts that the tree had produced accompanied by hobbit themed battle cries and the odd query about whether the nuts were okay to eat.

*****

*****

An orc glared upwards as a nut bounced off its helmet with a solid chink! before getting swiped in the throat by one of Legolas' pointy daggers. The hobbits cheered, and refocused on aiming at a particularly tough looking orc attempting to menace Aragorn, who was too busy dispatching two other orcs to do anything more than a vicious glare in its direction.

Merry, who had already worked out that their nuts were doing nothing more than increasing the orc's irritation, paused to survey the battle. These creatures were obviously inexperienced fighters, making some moves that even Pippin had worked out not to do after a few sword sessions with Boromir. However, it allowed the hobbit to view the individual fighting techniques that were currently being messily employed beneath him. Boromir, for example, fought like a Man who had just found out his lover had been cheating on him with the village idiot, using violent heavy thrusts that seemed almost personal. Mind you, thought Merry, that sort of death should be slightly personal. I should think there's nothing worse than finding out that your slayer had actually been pondering about what was for lunch at the time.

Legolas, on the other hand, seemed to be a decorative whirlwind of sharp pointy death, preferring to slash and go than apply the heavier skull cracking that Boromir favored. Merry watched as the elf sliced and diced as though he was intending to carve a noughts and crosses board into them for future entertainment, or possibly become Middle Earth's first elf food processor. Some of the less elaborate moves were being echoed in Aragorn's styles, although the fancy footwork was completely ignored. Occasionally Legolas looked as though his bottom half was engaged in ballroom dancing.

Aragorn felled another orc with a blow with the hilt of his sword, and allowed himself a quick glance to check that Boromir was still okay. Boromir, however, seemed to be enjoying himself, even toying with some attackers before delivering another of his trademark solid blows. Aragorn sighed. This was just going to get him overexcited again. It would be a long night, no doubt.

The battle also seemed to be waning; those orcs that were left were hovering around the outside rather than start engaging what was obviously a psychopathic enemy with shiny weapons. Finally one orc won Brain of the Year, turned tail, and pelted back through the undergrowth, followed swiftly by its companions who were happy to follow once the decision had been made. A miniature hailstorm of nuts followed them, as the hobbits tried to get in their last attacks.

There was a pause as silence fell on the little clearing. The hobbits slid down their tree and bounced across numerous orc bodies that were polluting the clearing to reach the fighters, who were still standing around. Aragorn gave the trees a suspicious look as though they were about to take a sneaky swing at him, and glanced at Legolas.

"Nothing," said the elf, listening hard.

Boromir grinned. " God, I needed that," he said, bending over a body to wipe his sword on its clothing in a most disrespectful manner.

Legolas raised an eyebrow at this. " Not getting enough relief recently?" he enquired politely. Aragorn gave him a look.

Pippin poked a body with a toe. " That was so cool!"

"Battle is never cool," admonished Aragorn sternly, and ignored the "uh-huh," that came mockingly from Boromir. " It is dangerous to our mission!"

The others looked at him.

"You're becoming increasingly dull, Aragorn," commented Legolas. Aragorn scowled at him, and waved a sword in the direction of the camp.
" We must head back. The others may be in danger," Aragorn seized the nearest person to him, who happened to be Merry, and gave him a light shove in the correct direction.

"So, what did you decide?" asked Pippin, as they trudged back through the undergrowth. Boromir gave him a funny look.

"Decide?"

"The revenge thing. I missed everything again, didn't I? I never get to see any action. Well," he corrected himself. " action that doesn't involve nasty things getting clobbered, which is always cool .. I mean, er, interesting and ...er...,"

"Educational?" offered Merry, who had noticed the looks that were being exchanged and was hoping to steer the conversation on to less rocky subjects.

"...yeah, educational, especially if I don't get hit. Or anyone else too, I don't want to see Frodo do that whole eye thing again, with that weird poison and the disappearing dagger blades, although this did mean we got to see....," Pippin, whose empathy radar was never good at the best of times, suddenly perceived the tension and trailed to a halt.

"Er," he said. Pippin desperately searched for a cheerful topic. " Aren't muffins brilliant?" he began again. " You can eat them at any time of the day, and you can have fruit ones, or chocolate ones, or creamy ones-"

"Lets stay off the creamy ones, eh Pip?" said Merry, hurriedly, trying to place himself between Boromir and Legolas.

"- and jammy ones, and that reminds me, did I ever tell you of the tale of my other cousin's jam pot and the big loaf of bread?" continued Pippin speedily.

"You are allowed to draw breath between sentences, Pippin," remarked Aragorn dryly, but not, as Merry was pleased to note, in a particularly furious way.

Boromir, however, slashed at an overhanging branch, a sure sign that he was getting grumpy.

"Muffins aside," he glared at Legolas, who returned the look with a disdainful expression. " did we get a promise?"

"Oh, look, here's the camp," said Merry in a forced bright tone, as they entered the camp clearing. " Isn't it nice?"

Frodo looked up from his enforced plate of boiled eggs.

"Nice?" he repeated doubtfully, and scanned the surroundings. " Well, I suppose the dust is a pretty color," he allowed, and waved the plate in the general direction of the newcomers. " Anyone want any eggs?" he asked hopefully, ignoring Sam's scowl.

As Boromir helped himself to a boiled egg (earning himself a grateful look from Frodo and a furious look from Sam), Aragorn checked the surroundings for any more evidence of impending orc attacks. However, this unfortunately meant he caught Gandalf's eye.

"So what took you so long?" asked the wizard, pointedly. Aragorn gave a half-hearted shrug which he only did when he was nervous, and tried to look as though he was busy. He failed.

"You don't know?" continued the wizard, dryly. " Was the stream too difficult to find? Did you have to find a different route past some awkward bushes? Was Boromir," Gandalf's gaze flickered to the warrior who had finished the egg and was now getting persuaded to eat the others by an increasingly desperate Frodo. " too weak and feeble to screw up the water bottles by himself?"

Aragorn opened his mouth to speak, then realized Gandalf's attention was suddenly focusing on something else.

I've seen that expression before, thought Aragorn gloomily as Gandalf's eyebrows went up at a rapid speed. It normally comes before a fireball.

"And what," snapped the wizard, turning back to Aragorn. " happened to Legolas' nose?"

Those who hadn't seen the punch looked round to study Legolas, who would have shuffled his feet if it had been dignified for an elf to do so. He settled for an arrogant look instead, and tried to ignore Pippin who was staring at him in wonder or shock, only having just noticing the bruised and swollen area.

"He hit a tree," offered Boromir, who was still trying to get away from being passed more boiled eggs. There was a snort of disgust from Legolas.

"There was an orc attack," said Aragorn, giving Boromir a hard look.

"After he hit a tree," persisted Boromir, not one to be stopped in his train of thought.

"It was an accident," piped up Merry.

Gandalf digested this in silence. " An accidental tree," he said slowly. " followed by an orc attack,"

"I saw the orcs! We threw nuts at them!" offered Pippin. Gandalf glanced at him.

"But not the accidental tree?"

Pippin looked bewildered. " There's no point in throwing nuts at trees," he said, reproachfully. Gandalf sighed.

"You did not see the tree event?" he tried.

"No, they were all standing around arguing when I left," said Pippin, and was suddenly aware of many pairs of eyes glaring at him. " But it could have happened afterwards!" he added helpfully.

"Hitting a tree," mused the wizard, his eyes drifting to Legolas who had the decency to look ashamed. " from a standing position?"

"Well..," said Aragorn. However, Gandalf was not to be drawn from his topic of conversation.

"Did the tree suddenly jump out and hit you?" he asked, in a kindly voice. Of course, the Ents could, the wizard thought. But if they wanted to hit him he wouldn't have a nose left. And lets not muddy the waters with facts.

Legolas hesitated. " I'd prefer not to talk about it," he said, firmly.

Gandalf smiled. " Oh would you," he said, with a voice that could cut steel.

"Yes,"

"And I suppose you would also prefer not to talk about this argument either?" the wizard continued, not missing the panicked look from Boromir. Aragorn cleared his throat nervously.

"We were having a debate-"

"Debate? How marvelous," Gandalf's eyes glinted at the ranger frostily. " Pray, continue,"

Emphasis on the pray, he thought grimly. Aragorn was about as good at lying successfully as he was at knitting.

"- a debate," continued Aragorn nervously. " about the best route through this area,"

"I see," Gandalf settled himself back on the seat he had vacated. Finally he looked back at the ranger. " And why was I not invited? Or indeed, Gimli?"

"It was a spontaneous thing," commented Boromir, who knew all about spontaneous actions. Gandalf gave him a Look, then turned his gaze back onto Aragorn.

"And what did you decide to do?" he asked. " As a result of this spontaneous debate?"

Aragorn hesitated. " To continue as we are," he said finally.

Gandalf nodded in approval. " I'm so glad to see we are in agreement for that, at least," he said. Aragorn sighed in relief.

"So," continued the wizard. " what was the alternative route?"

Aragorn froze, and looked desperately at Legolas, who made a faint shrugging gesture. Both of them knew damn well there wasn't another suitable way through this area without getting into major trouble. Gandalf followed this silent exchange with a polite expression on his face.

"Er," said Aragorn, after a long pause.

Gandalf raised an eyebrow. " Would that be the Path of Er, the Hills of Er, the Mountains of Er, or across the river of Er?"

After it was obvious Aragorn had nothing further to offer, Gandalf peered at the forgotten member of the "debaters".

"Mr. Brandybuck...," he began.

"I don't know nothing!" said Merry desperately. " Not a thing! I don't even know what the difference between a Hill and a Mountain is! Honest!"

Gandalf waited for the panicked outburst to die down, and gave him a kindly and encouraging smile. Merry looked even more panicked at this, and looked around desperately for someone's aid. However, Pippin was looking at him in fascination and the other three were too busy avoiding Gandalf's attention to give him any assistance whatsoever.

Gandalf, however, kept a respectful silence. Yet Merry could feel the inquiry within the silence, like a big invisible hobbit sized trap waiting to spring on him. Gandalf's smile grew more pleasant. Merry began to sweat.

There was a long long pause.

The inquiry beckoned.

It was followed by another long pause.

"Boromir hit him!" Merry finally blurted out, unnerved by the attack of silence and pleasant smiling. " 'Cause Legolas wouldn't say he wouldn't interfere anymore! That's all I know!"

Shit, thought Boromir, and turned to sneak off.

"Going somewhere, Boromir of Gondor?" The voice was cold.

Boromir cringed. Oooh, that was not a good voice. That was a voice that promised pain and torture, intermittent with psychological torment and the odd couple of mini fireballs on parts of the body that really shouldn't be singed.

Slowly, Boromir turned back round to vaguely face the wizard, although he made sure that he certainly didn't meet eye contact. Gandalf eyed him coldly. Boromir shuffled his feet in a manner that made him suddenly resemble a schoolboy, albeit a school boy with a large sword and chain mail.

"And what are you smirking at, Legolas?" snapped Gandalf. The said smirk disappeared from Legolas' face instantly. Gandalf sighed heavily. " I don't believe this. Honestly, if I had my way I'd flog the pair of you!"

"Sorry," muttered Boromir, who thought his day was quite bad enough without the idea of flogging getting introduced. The wizard frowned at him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear that," he said pointedly. Boromir shuffled his feet and tried to look as innocent as he could remember.

"There are orcs in the area, Gandalf," Aragorn tried to get off the subject. " We must-"

"Oh, we must, must we?" Gandalf shot the ranger a look. " I see. Can we also punch random members of the Fellowship whenever we feel like it?"

"That's hardly fair," protested Aragorn.

"Surely it's not fair to the rest of the party who doesn't get a go!" retorted Gandalf. " Apart from possibly Sam and his multi-talented saucepan."

"The problem has been solved," said Aragorn steadily. " We have come to an agreement with Legolas,"

Legolas gave a barely disguised snort of disgust. Gandalf glanced at him.

"Most convincing. And what form, for the sake of argument, did this agreement take?"

"He has given us his word on the subject," Aragorn ignored the look he was receiving from the elf in question, and accidentally found himself in the skeptical stare of the wizard. Aragorn quickly turned his gaze towards Frodo, who could be relied upon not to look at him in a nasty, furious or otherwise strange way, especially when Sam was scrumptiously trying to feed him some type of cookie. Where Sam managed to find all this food Aragorn had no idea. The hobbit was obviously a walking larder, but without the handles.

"I see," Gandalf, deprived of his ranger to stare at, examined one of his fingernails idly. " And exactly which word would this be? Rude or otherwise?"

"He has promised not to get involved in our .. relationship again," said Boromir hurriedly, before Legolas could get in his say in. Gandalf raised an eyebrow. Boromir found himself really hating eyebrows. Eyebrows never believed him.

"Oh good. How nice of him," the wizard looked at the elf. There was no expression on Legolas' face to betray his emotions, but Gandalf had been around Elrond too long. That slight raise of the left eyebrow spoke of contained rages and many furious thoughts. Or possibly the desire for strawberry ice-cream. " And do you agree, Legolas?"

"Yes," his voice barely sounded gritted at all. Gandalf was impressed.

"By the extent you're lying to me, it's obvious you're sincere about this," Gandalf adjusted his robes as his audience paused to work this one out.

"Er. Yes?" tried Aragorn, and caught Boromir's eye for some response from him.

"Don't look at me, I have no idea what he's on about," hissed back Boromir.

Gandalf smiled to himself. This seemed to make his audience even more nervous than before.

"What I mean to say," he said slowly. " is that you appear to be sincere that this situation will not happen again,"

"Well, it can't," piped up Pippin. " We'll be in a different location next time. Unless we do it again now - OW!"

Pippin was aggrieved. He had managed to be kicked by no less than three people at the same time. Things would be sore in the morning, no doubt. No one ever considered the fact that he was, after all, only a small hobbit, and all this kicking was likely to make him stunted in growth. Poor me, thought Pippin sadly.

"How very literal," sighed Gandalf. " I suppose I did specify punching rather than kicking,"

Pippin brightened. " Does that mean Merry can't thump me anymore?" he asked hopefully. "'Cause that would be bad and nasty and definitely bad for the Fellowship and the other random things that you said,"

Merry looked horrified at this suggestion.

"But he could still kick," commented Frodo, who had managed to avoid the forceful cookie in a dexterous fashion.

Pippin looked smug. " I'll get bigger boots," he said. Merry gave him a strange look.

"You don't wear boots, Pip!"

Pippin sulked. " I could do. That's just unfair, me not being able to wear boots. I could wear boots with the best of them!"

"Best of who??"

"I dunno! The people who wear boots!"

"Do they HAVE competitions for the Best Boot Wearer?"

"ANYWAY," continued the wizard, trying to avoid any further conversations about hobbits and leather articles of clothing. " we shall say no more about it."

"What, boots?" Pippin, awash with defensive boot plans, was surprised.

"No. Well, yes. But not specifically boots. The situation as a whole," Gandalf made a mental note to work out the best hobbit gag spell next time he had a spare moment.

"Oh." Pippin was thoughtful. " So I can still talk about boots?"

Gandalf sighed. " Pippin, if you continue in this fashion I will have no option but to clout you round the back of the head with my staff,"

"You can't do that! That's thumping that is." Pippin considered this new threat that boots were unlikely to assist with. Unless he wore them over his head.

"Clouting is an entirely different matter." snapped Gandalf. Pippin took the hint and shut up, shuffling a few paces back out of clouting range and intending to hide behind the vaguely clout-proof force that was Boromir. However, the warrior had taken the imitative and disappeared during the Boot Debate.

So had Aragorn. Leadership was all very well but a clouting staff was a clouting staff.

Legolas, still leaning against his tree, was aware of people's gazes turning to rest on him in query.

"What?!" he said accusingly.

Gandalf smiled. " Nothing,"

*****

"So do we believe him?" asked Aragorn finally, running a hand absent-mindedly through Boromir's hair as though the warrior was a cat that needed to be petted. Boromir stretched from his position on the floor, and looked up at the seated figure beside him indulgently.

"Believe who?" he asked sleepily.

"Legolas,"

"Oh," Boromir lent back against the log and nudged the hand to encourage further petting. The hand rubbed behind his ear, and Boromir suddenly found himself in danger of becoming a puddle on the floor.

"Was that a yes oh or a no oh?" asked Aragorn idly.

"It was an oh oh," replied Boromir, who was too busy with pleasurable sensations to start to worry about mischievous elves again. The hand was withdrawn, accompanied by a rather pathetic whimper-sulk sound from Boromir.

"You're not concentrating," warned Aragorn, who had managed to teach himself to ignore Boromir's sulks, despite the intensity of the pouting.

"I'm listening, aren't I?" the warrior was indignant.

"It was your idea for revenge!" countered Aragorn.

"It was Pippin's!"

"And who encouraged him?"

Boromir made a "Pah!" noise, and settled back to the floor, avoiding the worst of the stones that littered the floor. He tried to ignore Aragorn, who was obviously waiting for a suitable answer for the trust question. However, ignoring suddenly proved to be more difficult when Aragorn inserted a kick to Boromir's upper thigh. Boromir yelped in surprise.

"Was that truly necessary?!" he snapped. Aragorn smiled at him.

"Do we trust him?" he repeated. Boromir rolled his eyes and again settled himself down on the floor, making sure that the offending foot was away from his more sensitive areas.

"Sure. Fine. Whatever,"

"You do not convince me,"

"Well, you've always been a suspicious bastard." replied Boromir sulkily. " And it's hard to concentrate when you have a boot up the arse,"

"Keep this up and it'll be more than a boot up the arse," Aragorn gave another affectionate rub to Boromir's head.

"Promises, promises," Boromir relaxed into the touch with a sigh. Aragorn smiled. It was incredibly easy to encourage Boromir nowadays.

"Legolas promised under duress," continued Aragorn.

"You mean you can promise without duress?" remarked Boromir sleepily. " My word, you live and learn." He moved slightly to be able to get access to Aragorn's lower half. " Now, are we going to sit here all day or are we going to get more interesting?" Boromir's hand slid up Aragorn's left thigh in a persistent manner.

Aragorn captured the questing hand with his own. " Not until we've settled the matter,"

"What? Why?!" said Boromir impatiently. " What can't wait until afterwards?"

"It's the right thing to do,"

"Bugger the right thing to do," said the warrior irritably. Aragorn always had these irritating moments of morality, usually at the most inappropriate times. And then it was coupled with the horrible fact that Aragorn never backed down when he felt he was doing something "right." Boromir searched desperately for a quick solution to his dilemma.

"He promised in front of Gandalf," he said finally. " He wouldn't risk it,"

Aragorn considered the matter thoughtfully, which allowed Boromir to sneakily retrieve control of his captured hand and continue on its search upwards. Aragorn's attention was brought back when he suddenly realized his breeches were being skillfully unlaced. Really, Boromir was a man of many talents.

Aragorn re-seized the hand, calmly ignoring Boromir's hiss of impatience.

"Do we want to take that risk?" he said.

"At this moment, yes, yes I want to take that risk!!" Boromir gave an experimental tug to his hand to try to dislodge the unwelcome obstruction. " What can he do to us anyway?"

"Never say that about an elf," warned Aragorn. " They'll always be able to do something,"

"Humph," Boromir moved himself so he was properly facing Aragorn, albeit on his knees, which allowed his other hand into play without the problem of balance and gravity interrupting his movements. " I'm not scared of him,"

"How about cautious?" Aragorn, who had seen the other hand coming, managed to grasp it. However, the second hand was obviously a decoy, allowing Boromir to seize the opportunity of Aragorn's divided attention to obtain control of his first hand and continue his quest into Aragorn's breeches. Aragorn's train of thought suddenly discovered a large brick wall on the track as Boromir's hand finally reached its intended target. Aragorn jerked in surprise, and almost fell off his log backwards.

Boromir smirked. He withdrew his hand quickly, grasped onto Aragorn and smoothly pulled the ranger off his seat onto the ground. Aragorn decided not to object any further and looked up patiently at Boromir, who had seized the opportunity to straddle him. Boromir rubbed his groin against Aragorn's in what was undoubtedly an encouraging way.

"He could strike at any point," continued Aragorn, unaffected by the change in his vertical status. Boromir gave him a bewildered look.

"You're still not on about that are you?" he said. Aragorn attempted to shrug.

"It's an important situation," he said. " Just because you happen to be trying to do something obscene to my lower regions at the time does not change the importance of it,"

Boromir stepped up the obscene actions, and was gratified to notice the shudder through Aragorn's body as he did so. However, it was seriously increasing his own frustrations, which had been pretty damn high to start off with. Aragorn's breeches were obviously a danger to the Lord of Gondor and his sanity, and needed to be neutralized immediately.

"Rip those and I'll take a belt to you," warned Aragorn, as Boromir set Aragorn's boots free and started with breeches removal. Boromir had already managed to destroy a pair earlier, which had led to some embarrassing questions that Aragorn really didn't want to repeat.

"Why does everyone want to start hitting or whipping me?" complained Boromir, who nevertheless slowed down his actions.

"You're immensely whippable, my dear," Aragorn fought to remain passive as Boromir finally managed to remove the obstructive clothing without causing any further problems.

"Oh, joy," Boromir glanced at him, then crouched back over Aragorn's lower half and started to lick up Aragorn's inner thigh with deliberate slowness. Aragorn attempted to control himself, as he knew damn well that Boromir would slow down even more if he twitched or moaned. Suddenly he violently jumped as the icy coldness of Boromir's chain mail came in contact with his leg.

Boromir, who had had a reactionary knee planted suddenly and painfully in his chest, leaned back quickly in surprise.

"Take off that armor!" demanded Aragorn, whose knee was now killing him. Boromir sulked for a few seconds before swiftly relieving himself of his clothing, and dumping them unceremoniously near the clearings edge to avoid rolling on them. Last time they did that Aragorn had had Boromir's sword hilt engraved on his left thigh for a good two hours.

Boromir, still unnerved by the whole knee-chest experience, moved back to position carefully, as if Aragorn was a precious fragile object that could break or explode at any given moment. Aragorn could feel the heat and firmness of Boromir's arousal pressed against his leg, as Boromir started to focus on the ranger's neck. Aragorn suddenly felt extremely over dressed.

Rolling them over so he was finally on top (which was where the king of Gondor should be anyway! he thought), Aragorn stripped himself of the remainder of his clothing and tossed them casually into the pile already started by Boromir. Leaning down, he echoed the way Boromir had worked on his own neck, licking, nipping and nuzzling.

Suddenly he paused and looked up, eyes narrowing.

"Did you hear anything?" he said. Boromir rolled his eyes again in frustration.

"No, I did not hear anything!"

Aragorn remained unconvinced. Boromir could feel the tension run through the ranger's body as Aragorn scanned the surroundings in case of vicious anything.
This is what comes, thought Boromir sulkily. Or not bloody well comes in this case, of leadership skills. Bugger this for a game of soldiers.

"It could be-" began Aragorn, but was silenced by Boromir grabbing him and pulling him down for a violently passionate kiss. Boromir released Aragorn's precarious position after it was clear that the focus of the ranger's attention was the figure below him rather than possible dodgy shadows in the bushes.

"I do not," said Boromir softly and deliberately. " give a rat's arse to what's in the bushes."

"A good leader must always give a rat's arse to what's in the bushes," replied Aragorn idly, who had come to the conclusion that whatever it was unlikely to be a serious threat. Orcs were not well known for their love of silence and bushes.

Boromir shrugged. " Then I'm a crap leader," he said, and continued his assault on Aragorn. The ranger allowed him to carry on for a few minutes before seizing control again, pinning Boromir's arms to the floor as he started giving gentle bites to Boromir's chest. The bites increased as Boromir, extremely frustrated by now, tried to buck him off or at very least speed him up a bit. Boromir gave another yelp as Aragorn's teeth connected on his nipple as punishment.

Aragorn's hand was also not idle. After the pinning, it had wandered down Boromir's body once the warrior stopped trying to get control again, relying on suitable bites to keep Boromir occupied until it had reached its indented target. Boromir shuddered as Aragorn's hand brushed itself lightly over his cock before making its way between his legs.

"Oil," whispered Aragorn urgently. Boromir looked at him, panting yet bemused.

"Well, I haven't got it!" he managed.

The hand paused. " Where is it?"

Boromir shrugged, which almost made Aragorn's teeth connect with his nipple again.

"With the stuff at the camp?" he guessed. Aragorn looked appalled, then narrowed his eyes.

"Okay, we'll try a different course of action," he whispered. Boromir looked unsure for the few seconds that Aragorn allowed before the ranger got back into action. He slowly worked his way down Boromir's body with his tongue, tracing the ribs on his chest and slowly drifting nearer towards his goal. He nudged Boromir's legs further apart with a well placed knee, and brought his hands down to grip Boromir's hips firmly, ensuring that the warrior stayed put.

Boromir gasped as Aragorn ran a tongue over his arousal, dragging his teeth across the head lightly, tongue flickering over the more sensitive areas in a teasing manner. Aragorn was working overtime attempting to keep Boromir still as he started to increase the speed and movements, the warrior bucking against him as he took it as deeply as he could.

Finally Aragorn felt Boromir was almost ready, leant back and continued with a hand, leaning up Boromir's body to run his tongue over Boromir's lips, taking the chance to explore whilst the whole of Boromir's consciousness was focused on the smooth strokes of Aragorn's hand. Aragorn felt the warrior tense up before having to kiss away the shout that Boromir gave as he came, feeling the warmth spread over his hand as he did so.

Dropping kisses over the now exhausted Boromir's shoulders and chest, Aragorn gently moved his seed-covered hand back between Boromir's legs.

"Is it just me," gasped Boromir, as Aragorn's finger reached its intended target. " Or are you taking this whole environmentally friendly thing a bit too far?!"

Aragorn shrugged, and did things with his fingers to make sure that Boromir couldn't say much more than the occasional moan/grunt/sigh. Finally he slid into him, feeling the warm and now familiar body open up to his gentle but increasingly strong thrusts, holding Boromir down onto the ground with the majority of his body weight whilst also gently and teasingly playing with Boromir until he had the warrior cursing, panting and pleading underneath him.

Finally, after much further thrusting, panting and other things of a sexual and downright naughty nature, Aragorn exploded into Boromir accompanied by a loud cry by the pair of them that was almost harmonious. Aragorn managed to roll off Boromir before he slumped in exhaustion. All this sex and fighting was beginning to get exhausting!

"You okay?" panted a tired yet happy Boromir, who had been slightly alarmed by his lover's flop to the floor. Aragorn made a mumbling sound that seemed positive to Boromir's ears, a suggestion that was aided by the ranger's arm coming around to pull the warrior closer to him.

Boromir grinned, detangled himself and moved over to the pile of clothing, still looking interestedly at the exhausted body of Aragorn.

"No stamina, that's your problem," he remarked cheerfully.

"My problem seems to stem from having a sarcastic bastard as a lover!" retorted Aragorn, safe in his little heap of human satisfaction. Boromir smirked, and glanced towards the pile of clothes. The squirrels in the tree opposite noticed his smirk suddenly fade from his face as Boromir scanned the area which was noticeably clothes free.

"Actually," he said slowly. " I think your problem may have changed."

*****

Gandalf was sitting, smoking the last of his pipeweed and reflecting upon the journey ahead. Occasionally his eyes slid across to where the elf sat; Legolas had worried him slightly when he had vanished for a few minutes earlier, but since the elf was back and not appearing to wish to cause a huge disturbance, the wizard thought it was unlikely to have caused any major situations. Frodo and the ever persistent Sam were innocently trying to sleep seeming on top of each other - for warmth, Frodo had insisted. Gandalf had raised an eyebrow at this idea but had decided not to comment. After all, it was not his place. And thank the Gods for that.

Gimli had offered to go back on watch, which had been accepted as soon as he had paused to draw breath, and was now humming some dwarven tune that Gandalf vaguely recognized as "Hit the Rock". And Merry and Pippin had very kindly offered to wash some clothes in the nearest stream, after Legolas had made the comment that soon the orcs would smell the Fellowship coming. Although he was sure that Legolas hadn't started off with the amount of clothes he had produced for washing. Oh well. It couldn't hurt.

Could it?

*****

THE END

Go to the next story in the series: Revenge - Agony Elf

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