To a flame

Aragorn heard the awakening of the city. Through a crack in the shutters came a barely discernible hum of voices and the laughter of boys kicking through the streets for orc helmets. Women and children were taken out of the city before the siege began, but many simply had nowhere to go, and the families of the soldiers did not want to leave their defenders. On the night after the difficult victory, the city lived almost an ordinary life. The woman swore at the injustice of life, which consisted in the fact that her house was destroyed to the ground, and the hut of a drunken neighbour was not even touched. One of the men who were sorting out the rubble replied to the altercation that Mordor always destroys the best first. Aragorn could not stand it and laughed softly, at the same moment Boromir snorted behind his shoulder. ‘These people are incorrigible,’ he grumbled. Aragorn raised himself on his elbow and looked at Boromir. He still looked sleepy, and there was a pillow mark on his cheek. Aragorn touched his face, stroked his cheekbones, the dimple on his chin and the barely beginning to show a wrinkle in the corner of his mouth — the same one that will make him look more and more like his father every year. But Boromir's eyes are brighter, his hair is lighter, and his look is lighter. Aragorn respected his father very much and did not blame him for what despair had done to him. Denethor lost many people in his life and mourned each loss alone. Aragorn was determined to heal Boromir any wounds and prevent painful scars in his soul. ‘What's wrong with you?’ Boromir asked. He studied Aragorn's face with his eyes, then bent his head and caught his palm with his lips. It seemed to Aragorn that a little more, and his heart would not stand the love and tenderness that grow in it every hour. I'll just explode. This already made it difficult to breathe evenly, an unbearable heat filled the entire chest and descended lower, awakening no longer platonic desires. Having no strength to resist, Aragorn kissed Boromir on the lips, and he laughed and answered passionately, buried his fingers in his hair and pulled him closer. Aragorn realized that if he didn't stop now, it would be too late later. He gently but confidently pulled away, kissed Boromir again, but almost chastely, on the very edge of his moist, darkened lips, and got out of bed. He was genuinely glad that he had gone to bed in his underpants, and now he could try to hide the desires that his body could not cope with. ‘Go back to bed,’ Boromir immediately protested and shrugged his shoulders. ‘It's already dawn,’ said Aragorn and went to the window. The open shutters let sunlight into the room, the scarlet glow reflected on the gray walls. 'It's time to get up, the city needs us.’ ‘A couple more hours will be enough. They have Gandalf, people listen to him. Or a prince. There are many people who want to command.’ Aragorn heard the bed creak. Without turning around, he could imagine Boromir stretching like a huge cat and throwing off the blanket. Heat simultaneously rushed to his cheeks and immediately gathered in the lower abdomen. ‘Look at me,’ Boromir demanded. There was not even a hint of drowsiness in his voice, it was almost an order. And Aragorn obeyed. Boromir was reclining with his head propped on his palm. The blanket was pulled up to his hips, but it didn't hide his... obvious interest. ‘Go back to bed,’ he repeated, catching Aragorn's eye. Aragorn still couldn't take his eyes off him. Of course, they had seen each other naked more than once, first in the baths of Rivendell, then in Lorien. And Aragorn always admired what was revealed to his eyes, but never before had this picture been coloured by lust. And along with the permission and, moreover, the demand for intimacy, there was a feeling of the first touch of something great. ‘You don't know what you're asking for,’ Aragorn shook his head. His voice was hoarse and his throat was suddenly dry. ‘I know,’ said Boromir. ‘And I’m not a shy young maiden.’ ‘Have you ever shared a bed with a man?’ Aragorn asked, coming closer. ‘Yes, but I didn't let anyone take me,’ with these words Boromir rolled over on his back and threw the blanket on the floor. With the same quiet rustle, the future king's composure collapsed. ‘You'll be gentle, won't you?’ The steward chuckled. ‘I’ll never harm you,’ Aragorn promised. Lips met again in a kiss, hands intertwined, but passion replaced the night warmth and quiet tenderness. No one noticed the knock on the door, and the latch jerked. Who of the two locked the door yesterday didn't remember either. And Halbarad, who came to visit friends early in the morning, listened for a while, raised his eyebrows and went to look for something to eat. I was terribly hungry, and these two will soon be even more hungry. By breakfast, the king and the steward appeared fully dressed, washed, rested. Boromir had bright spots on his neck, and Aragorn's head looked as if it was shaken by all the winds of Caradhras. Pippin already had a question, and he almost burst out of his mouth, but Merry whispered something in his friend's ear in time, and he buried his eyes in the bowl. The rest refrained from commenting at all. Except Halbarad, of course. Everyone was leaning on the food as if they hadn't eaten anything for a long time, which, in principle, was not far from the truth. Provisions were being saved in the city — half of all the armies of Gondor were already concentrated here — and now the Rohans were added to them, who, after all they had done for Gondor, could at least count on food. So the winners' breakfast was meagre, but the main thing was that it was. Out of nothing, the Rangers managed to arrange a real feast again. Halbarad fried white bread in butter so that the butter completely soaked a thick piece, and the bread absorbed all the taste and softness of cream, and put fried eggs with bacon on top. The Hobbits were delighted, Gandalf immediately spoiled the mood, saying that it was for the whole day, there would be nothing more until dinner. Aragorn and Boromir swept away everything they saw without question or complaint. ‘Looks like you've worked up a good appetite,’ Halbarad said, giving them both another piece of toasted bread and pouring ale. ‘And I was wondering if you could resist a vulgar joke…’ Aragorn grunted. ‘I'm just saying the obvious,’ Halbarad shrugged. ‘And you're too gloomy. Maybe you came down for breakfast too early?’ Aragorn's attempt to teach his comrade a lesson was interrupted by Boromir. He hastily put the rest of the toast in his mouth, took another sip of ale, already getting up from the table. ‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘I'll have a look at the first circle, we need to find out what's left of the gate there.’ ‘Dust,’ said Gimli and took a drag on his pipe. ‘So we'll have to build something out of this dust that will slow down the progress of the Orcs,’ Boromir took gloves and a flask carefully filled with Halbarad diluted wine. 'Meet me at the tower of Ecthelion before sunset. I'll gather the commanders, see who else can fight and what forces we have.’ ‘Wait.’ Aragorn pulled out a pair of bracers and handed them to Boromir. ‘It's yours. You asked me to bring it back safe and sound, remember?’ ‘Keep it to yourself,’ Boromir smiled, then leaned over to Aragorn and kissed him briefly in front of everyone. ‘See you tonight!’ A minute later, he was already running down the stairs into the courtyard. In one shirt and tunic, without chain mail and shield. The wind ruffled his hair, and the sun was reflected in his eyes. At last, he was home, he had the right to hope again. Aragorn admired him, standing at the wide gallery window, until the silhouette completely disappeared from sight. When Aragorn returned to the table, Pippin had already cleared his throat — he took a sip of ale at the moment of the farewell kiss — Gimli and Legolas were going to the city, the dwarf badly wanted to walk along the walls, evaluate the masonry of the great masters of the end of the Second Age. Gandalf lit his pipe and sat lost in thought, blowing smoke rings. ‘Are you judging me?’ Aragorn asked quietly, sitting down next to him. ‘What?’ the old wizard woke up from his thoughts. ‘No, of course not. You've often had your own way and you've always been right. But be careful. Affairs of the heart are often more complicated than war and politics.’ ‘I am confident in my heart,’ said Aragorn. ‘What about Boromir’s one?’ Gandalf asked. And immediately raised a bony palm, suppressing objections. 'He knows nothing about his heart. He may claim to be sophisticated in this life, but he knows a lot about war and nothing about love. The love of his father, brother and people—that was all he knew.’ ‘I'll teach him.’ ‘It's a complicated science,’ Gandalf shook his head. ‘Wise men sometimes know less about this than a peasant.’ ‘Especially if this peasant has someone to tie up calluses and bring lunch to the field,’ grinned Aragorn.