Think of Me and How I Used to Be

Posted: June 2003
Type: FCS
Author: LadyHawksShadow
Characters: Boromir
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst, rape fantasy, insanity
Beta: Larian Elensar
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. The story is fiction.
Based on the Matchbox 20 song: Unwell.

Summary/Notes:Boromir begins his descent into madness in the darkness of Moira. Written as part of a fic challenge from the daemel group at Yahoo.

*****

The eternal darkness tore at Boromir's soul. He could feel the weight of Moira pressing on his shoulders, pushing him further down. He felt as though he might sink into the very stones of Moira if he were not careful. Boromir did not think he would make it through the mine. The dreams that had haunted him and led him to seek Lord Elrond in Rivendell had turned darker. Foul. They represented a man that Boromir did not know, had never met. The one who had entered the mines had ceased to exist and was replaced by a monster begging to shed Boromir's skin.

The dreams involved images that he did not understand. Boromir knew they heralded his death. Each step through the mine brought him closer to his end. He heard the doom of his people. He knew Gondor would fall. Anger slowly grew in his soul. He resented Frodo for having the Ring. The Ring should have been his, by rights. The Ring should have come to Gondor.

And there was Sam. The eternally optimistic companion. The one to whom Frodo turned to for comfort and guidance. The hobbit did not seek comfort from the men or from the stoic Elf or from the boisterous, blustering dwarf. Frodo sought Sam's council and Sam's advice and Sam's comfort. Boromir began to think there was something unnatural in their relationship. He knew there was something unnatural. He intended to catch them at it.

"Boromir," Legolas stood close behind Boromir, not quite touching him. The darkness made visibility difficult beyond the realm of Gandalf's staff. The elf did not need the light to see Boromir's distress. The man smelled of fear and anguish.

Boromir turned from his study of Samwise and glared at Legolas. He hated the elf for disrupting him. "Do not sneak up on me again, Legolas of Mirkwood." His hand drifted away from his sword.

"I did not sneak, Boromir." Legolas relaxed his grip on his bow. The man was dangerous now. More so than ever before. Legolas did not know if it was the darkness of the mines or something else, but he resolved to keep a closer watch. Aragorn had his hands full with the Ring Bearer. The least he could do, thought Legolas, was watch Boromir. "Why were you staring so at Sam? Has he given you cause for alarm?"

"Do you not see it? No. Of course you do not. Your kind indulges in such fancies." Boromir turned back to watch Sam and Frodo again.

The two hobbits were sitting quietly. In fact, Frodo seemed to be asleep for his eyes were closed and his head rested on Sam's shoulder. Sam, as ever, remained fully alert. When he saw Legolas and Boromir together he frowned.

"I see a tired Ring Bearer and his companion resting. Is there something that I have missed? Do Men not sleep?" His eyes blazed with fire but he kept his voice light.

Boromir turned away with a snarl. He met Aragorn's hard gaze and lowered his eyes. With a deep, shaking breath, he gave Sam and Frodo one last lingering look. Maybe he was wrong? Maybe it was the mine. Maybe it was his dreams. He could no longer tell. He could no longer distinguish between reality and the strange fantasies in his head. He canted his eyes at Legolas. "Forgive me, Legolas."

Boromir settled down on a chunk of rock and closed his eyes. They had agreed to rest a few hours before moving on. Two days already in the mines. Two days of torture. Two days of utter darkness. How much more could he take? He mentally squared his shoulders. He was the next Steward of Gondor. He would not be defeated by an abandoned mine. Still he could taste his death in the back of his throat.

He closed his eyes and could not tell the difference in the darkness. As soon as he fell asleep the dreams began. Always the same dream. Unlike other dreams, this one seemed to pick up where it left off when he woke. Nothing he did helped him to escape the nightmare.

"Give it to me, Frodo. It should have been mine! But by a twist of fate, it should be mine" He felt the small body beneath his tremble. Warm, sweet breath grazed his cheek. Thick and curly hair tickled his nose. Boromir felt his body respond and bile rose in his throat.

"Boromir," a rough hand shook him awake and Boromir stared into the cold green eyes of Aragorn. "Time to go."

Boromir shook his head to clear it of the too lucid dream. He dreaded the moment when the dream reached its conclusion. He rose and began to fall in with the rest of the company as they straggled behind Gandalf and his meager light. He intentionally chose the rear of the company.

In front, near Aragorn and Gandalf were Frodo and Sam, as always. Boromir had to tear his eyes from them. The image was too sharp, too clear. Something deep inside Boromir lurched and he struggled for breath.

"Tis only the fear of darkness, Boromir. It will pass," Legolas had once again crept up on Boromir.

He swallowed his anger. There was no point in antagonizing the elf. "Does not even the darkness bother you?" He panted through clenched teeth as they marched.

Legolas lifted his head, scanning the ornate columns and carvings lovingly crafted by the dwarfs. "I carry light in my soul. I do not fear the dark."

"Is there anything you do fear, Legolas?" He asked, hating the elf, but needing the other's company. He had to find stability or he would not come out of Moira alive. Not, he reminded himself, that it mattered when he died. For he knew his death was imminent.

"We all have fears, Boromir," Legolas' heart lightened at Boromir's questions. Whatever gripped the man, he was at least fighting. Perhaps there remained hope.

"What do elves fear?" He tried to keep his voice low so the echoes would not float eerily back to him.

"We fear losing those we love." Legolas moved closer. "We do not fear death, but we do fear the death of a loved one."

Boromir trembled. "Men fear inglorious death. Men fear futile death. We do not fear death that is noble of purpose."

"You fear too much else to be afraid of death," Legolas observed. Though the conversation centered generally on fear, he tried to steer it closer to Boromir's problem. "When we first entered Moira, you called it a tomb. Is this, then, what the tombs of Men look like?"

Boromir focused on the column moving slowly ahead in the dim circle of Gandalf's light. He could hear whispers and the voices bounced off the walls and echoed back and forth, folding in and colliding with one another. "Smaller," replied Boromir. "We build our tombs much smaller."

Legolas' eyes watched as sweat beaded Boromir's forehead and the breath laboring in his chest. Slowly, painfully, his heart constricted for he knew whatever gripped Boromir would soon force Denethor's son to an irrational act. They would be forced to kill him. Or he would somehow kill himself. Legolas ran light fingers over his bow.

Conversation died then and they marched in relative silence, speaking only when necessary. Finally Gandalf called a halt and rations were distributed along with water. Watches were set and the company bedded down for yet another night in Moira. Boromir and Legolas drew first watch.

Sitting near him, Legolas again sought to draw out Boromir. Hoping to help him, Legolas could only think that talking out the fears gnawing his soul might help the Man. "I do not fear the darkness of Moira. I fear the darkness creeping over Middle Earth." He allowed.

"My people will die before yours, Legolas." Boromir responded morosely. "Minas Tirith lies too close to the Black Gates of Mordor."

"Mirkwood has it's own shadows," Legolas shifted slightly, to get a better look at Boromir. He noted the cloudy green gaze and realized that, in his own way, the man had begun to fade. "Should the quest fail, I do not think we will any of us care what happens to Middle Earth, for we should all ready have passed from this life."

Boromir's handsome face twisted into a mirthless grimace. "Indeed, so we shall be. Tis not my own death I fear, for I have come to accept that I shall not see my home again. Tis the death of my people I regret."

Startled, Legolas began to understand at last that which plagued Boromir. "Do you have premonitions? Can you tell the future?"

"Nay, tis not the gift of Men to know the future. I can taste death on my tongue. I know it is my own." Boromir shivered in the chill air.

Legolas would have comforted him, then, if the man would not have taken offense. He knew that Boromir would never allow even the most casual touch from one of his fellow travelers. Once, he might have, but not now. Whatever else had happened, Moira had stirred a darkness in Boromir's soul.

Time passed slowly and their watch finally ended. They turned to their own bedrolls as Gimli and Aragorn took time to watch. Legolas lay on his back, staring into the darkness waiting for reverie to overcome him when he heard movement to his left. Turning his head, he could just make out Boromir moving away from the company, stealthily slipping into the darkness. Quietly, Legolas followed him.

They did not go far before Boromir threw down his bedroll and dropped gracelessly to it. He wrapped the blanket tight, like a cocoon. Legolas put his back to a rock and stretched his long legs out before him. He did not know why Boromir had taken to sleeping away from everyone else, but he intended to find out.

The body beneath his wriggled and struggled, exciting Boromir further. His member strained against his breeches and he ached with a longing unlike any he felt before. The dark curls tickling his nose smelled sweet and the tiny hands pushing so futilely against his body drew laughter from his throat. "Give me what is mine," he commanded. Only this time, he did not mean the Ring. For he could feel the cool metal in his fingers, the chain that usually kept it so secure around Frodo's neck dug against his palm. He thrust his hand against a flat chest and dragged his nails along the tender skin until he saw blood well. He bent his head and tasted the blood; salty and sweet with a hint of metallic under favor.

Warm hands cupped his face and Boromir sat up with a jerk. "What?" His breath labored painfully in his chest and he felt the all too frequent arousal pressing against his leggings. He felt dirty and disgusted. Ashamed. He turned his head away when he realized Legolas was the one to awaken him. "Tis time, then?"

"Nay, be at peace," Legolas laid his hands on Boromir's shoulders. "You cried out in your sleep. Your dreams trouble you, my friend. Let me help you?"

Boromir scrubbed at his face. "You can help me by letting me sleep. I am tired. Unlike you elves, men must sleep."

"What did you dream?" Legolas had listened as Boromir's evil laugh filled the chamber and his blood hand chilled in his veins. He tightened his grip on Boromir. "The Ring calls to you, Boromir. I see it. Do not let it capture you."

Boromir roughly shook off Legolas' hands. "Ever is it the way of elves to meddle where they are not wanted. Leave me, Legolas of Mirkwood." He flopped over on his side and pulled the blanket over his chin.

Legolas walked back to his corner and sat, again, watching Boromir. He heard Aragorn and Gimli end their watch and Gandalf and one of the hobbits take over. To Legolas, it sounded as though it might be Sam. Of course it would be Sam, for the gardener was ever vigilant where his beloved Frodo was concerned. The relationship reminded Legolas of the relationship between Elrond and Erestor; close and deeply respectful. He did not think that Boromir would fall asleep again that night as he listened to the man's ragged breathing. Whatever Boromir dreamed, it frightened him.

After a torturous night, the party set out again. Boromir looked tired, lines deepening on his face and eyes sunken in head, gave him an aged appearance. Grime collected in the dimples beside his mouth. His green eyes had gone from lack luster to manic over night and Legolas feared Boromir's end drew nigh.

But then, something happened that pushed all thoughts of the Steward's son from his mind. The Fellowship stumbled across the last defense of the dwarves of Moira. Pippin brushed against a Dwarven skeleton and sent it crashing down into an empty well. The Fellowship was forced to fight, and flee for their lives. And Boromir's madness descended even as the Balrog and Gandalf fell into shadow.

"Fools, he calls us and he is right!" Screamed Boromir as arrows flew all around them. "Why do we flee? There is no escape from this tomb." He stood still, defiantly letting the arrows come closer and closer.

Legolas gripped Boromir by the shoulders. "Run, Boromir. Let not Gandalf's sacrifice be in vain."

Laughter greeted Legolas' words. "His death is in vain, elf. We have all been deceived by our own wishes. The Ring has won. Sauron will have us all."

'No," shouted Aragorn, coming to shove Boromir hard towards the exit. "Sauron will not win for he has not the Ring. Flee, Boromir, or be left behind. I cannot risk Frodo for you."

Finally something resembling sanity returned to Boromir's eyes and reaching around, he grabbed up a struggling hobbit and fled through the exit. Outside, Aragorn again rousted the party, struggling to get everyone moving, despite their grief and anger and despair.

As the hobbits crumbled upon the massive boulders, Aragorn patted and pushed and gave orders like a general. Or a King. And Boromir's soul shriveled inside him. The King of Gondor had returned.

"Come, Legolas, get them moving." He turned and watched as Frodo stood on the edge of a boulder staring forlornly at the horizon. "Frodo!"

Boromir roused himself. "Give them a moment, for pity's sake." He heard the anguish in his own voice and hated the display of weakness even more than he hated the moment in Moira where he begged for death to take them all. He had not only shamed himself, he had shamed the Stewards of Gondor in front of their king.

"By nightfall, theses hills will be crawling with Orcs. We must reach Lothlorien and seek shelter." Aragorn led the party over the rocks, instinctively knowing they would catch up.

Nightfall came and indeed, the party reached Lothlorien. As either guests or captives of Galadriel's magic. The interpretation mattered little to Boromir. Her voice echoed in his head long after he left her presence and the lament sung by the elves only made him feel that much worse. The dwarf, won over by Galadriel, sang her praises. Boromir knew she had seen his soul and knew the man he'd become since the mines and despised him for his weakness. Even in the Golden Wood, his dreams remained unabated.

The body beneath his twisted with each terrified sob. Sweat and blood mingled and he liked the way it tasted on is tongue. When the blood dried, he dug his hands harder into the fragile skin, breaking it open anew for his tongue's delight. His leggings were so tight now he could barely breath. Clutched tightly in his palm, the Ring whispered. He straddled his little victim, pinning the shorter legs beneath his own. He leaned over, crushing his erection against the bloody welts, running his hands up the smooth chest. His fingers clasped the delicate throat, the chain still wrapped around his hands gored flesh. He laughed delightedly as he rubbed himself against the small body, feeling the sexual tension increase. His hands tightened. Tightened. Blue eyes opened wide with panic and reflected death back at him. He knelt so that all his weight pushed against the convulsing windpipe under his thumbs. He kissed the open mouth, running his tongue deep inside for a last taste even as he rocked harder and harder against the rigid body.

Legolas clamped his hand over Boromir's mouth as the nightmare reached its climax and the man started screaming. He struggled in Legolas' arms and then went limp as the dream faded and he returned to reality. What little he understood of reality. The whole world was no longer real to him. Since leaving Moira, the world had taken on the unsubstantial feeling of being underwater. Boromir spent his days in the Golden Wood alone, seeking solitude, hiding his anguish from everyone, including himself. He avoided Frodo whenever possible. And Sam aided him in that, always keeping himself between his beloved Mister Frodo and Boromir of Gondor. Good, solid Sam. Boromir, despite his earlier protests, had come to be thankful for Sam for he could not trust himself any more and was glad that someone so loyal stood between him and Frodo.

"Release me," he mumbled against the palm. He shook violently from the after affects of the dream and his leggings told of how unwell he truly was, for no one could find sexual pleasure from such were they whole. Frantically he scrambled away from Legolas as he was released.

He sat up and placed his back to the tree. He stank with his own sweat and fear. And death. Now that he had finally seen the conclusion of the dream, he understood even more.

"T'was a nightmare, Boromir." Legolas sat up. "I only meant to keep you silent so as not to wake the others."

Boromir brushed the tangled strands of his greasy hair from his face. "I know, Legolas and I thank you," his voice shook so that he was nearly unintelligible. "A boon I ask of you, please, if you can find it in your heart."

Legolas' right hand came up to his heart and he inclined his head in a graceful arc. "If it be in my power, Boromir."

"Kill me." Boromir gasped the words, unable to believe he had uttered them, but knowing deep down they were necessary. "I beg you, end my torment before I succumb to the darkness closing in on me."

Shock and horror reflected on Legolas' face. He was not certain he'd heard correctly and so said nothing for a long time.

"Please, I beg you" Boromir leaned forward and grasped the elf's forearm in his strong fingers. "Do this for the Fellowship. For me. I cannot go on like this."

"I cannot!" Legolas hissed loudly, his hackles rising at the thought of killing one of the Fellowship. "We have already lost Gandalf, Boromir."

"And I am next, I know. Maybe I will take Frodo with me. Do you wish to take that risk?"

"T'was but a dream."

"T'was an omen. It is my destiny to try to take what I cannot have. If I succeed my people will die. Tis better that I died instead."

The elf felt the blood drain from his face. Though he did not know the nature of the dreams haunting Boromir, he bore witness to the effect on him. He feared Boromir spoke the truth. "How could I explain my arrow in your throat?"

Boromir lowered his eyes. "I do not know, Legolas. I only know that I cannot go on anymore. I am lost."

"Nay, I will not allow you to do this to yourself or to the Fellowship. The grief would be their undoing as surely as you claim to know your future. I cannot. Ask another boon of me, Boromir of Gondor. For I cannot-nay, will not-grant you this one. You have been a friend and a faithful companion I will not watch you throw away your life so needlessly." Legolas reversed the grip so that he held Boromir instead of Boromir holding him.

The man turned his face away. "You refuse the one boon I need. There is nothing else to ask."

"Tell me what you dreamed. Perhaps if you talked about it, it would lessen."

"Tis not only the dreams, Legolas, tis what she said to me." Boromir hitched his head in the general direction of nowhere. "And that, like my dream, I repeat to none. I will not be remembered for shaming my house, my father's house. I would be remembered for the man I was when I left Gondor. Not this man I have become. I do not know who I am anymore, and I like it not. If I tell you what I saw in my dreams, if I share with you the secrets of Galadriel's words, then you will know. That I cannot bear."

"Tis a boon I can grant you, after all," Legolas said slowly, feeling his words carefully. "I will let none know of your dreams, or your torment. I am the only one to bear witness to this affliction. I will share this secret with none."

Legolas turned his face skyward as the boat bearing Boromir's body drifted to the center of the river and was captured by the swift current. He remembered their last night in Lothlorien and he wondered, again, what Boromir had seen in his dreams that had so frightened him. Regardless, he had held his promise.

None would ever know of his anguish and sorrow. Forever would Boromir be remembered as he had been, before the Ring claimed his mind. He would be forever in the hearts of the people of Gondor a hero.

THE END

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