Love Knows No Boundaries

BROKEN ARROW
by Janet Elizabeth

Boromir sat wrapped in darkness and sorrow as he took his long watch at the beginning of the night. He had volunteered to take first watch since they had left Rivendell, as it gave him time to think. But his thoughts were always dark now. His father had sent him away from Minas Tirith and set his brother in his place at the fore of the defenders.

Denethor claimed to love his eldest son and it was certain that he was proud of him, but he never showed any kindness nor any affection. And it still troubled him that his father had sent him instead of Faramir. His brother had the dream and yet Denethor had seen fit to send the eldest son, like he was an errand boy or worse, unfit to wage war against the enemy.

Tortured images rolled through Boromir's mind as he thought back to the rout that had driven them back over the bridges of Osgiliath. He could still see the men as they fell one by one and felt the burn of shame at his own cowardice. He should have stood and fought, not run like a rabbit from a fox. And yet, if he fell, who would lead the might of Gondor? Faramir? Boromir scoffed at the idea. His younger brother was a fell swordsman but could not approach the skill of Boromir. And the youngest son of Denethor did not have the knack for leading men the same way as he did, though the men of Faramir's company loved him more than Boromir's did him. It made no difference now. He had been sent away, discarded like a broken arrow, still dangerous but no longer possessing it's original usefulness. He was ashamed.

And then, when he had arrived in Rivendell there had been more disgrace for the proud man of Gondor. He had been kept waiting by the master of Rivendell, like a child expecting a treat, while others were granted entrance. Then when he had finally gained access to council, he had been slapped in the face by the claim of that dirty stranger out of the wild. A wood crafty simpleton named Strider, claiming to be the heir of Isildur. Boromir spat in disgust at the memory of the usurper and his haughty display of Narsil reforged. It had made bile rise in his belly to sour all his thoughts.

As if this wasn't enough though, then came the ridiculous idea that they should cast away their only hope of defeating the Dark Lord and placing it in the hands of a Halfling. How dare they put the fate of all Middle-Earth in the hands of someone so small and helpless. The little ones couldn't even defend themselves properly. They had no knowledge of battle and swords. They were childlike and did not belong in the affairs of the mighty and the wise. But it was not his decision to make and so he kept his thoughts to himself, covering his initial outburst at the council with deference to Elrond and Gandalf.

Boromir sighed heavily as he thought of Frodo and the other's. He could not abide the fact that such small little things, so soft and weak, could be allowed to be a part of this ridiculous quest. A thought occurred to him that perhaps there was more to them than met the eye and mayhap he should take the time to get to know them better. He resolved to begin tomorrow, but not with Frodo nor his manservant. No, approaching the ringbearer would be a mistake and arouse suspicion. He would befriend the two younger Halflings and perhaps ferret out all their secrets. Then he would be able to understand them better and in the end he could appeal to Frodo and persuade him to bring the ring to Minis Tirith. Then Boromir could return in triumph and regain his father's trust and pride. He would be the hero of the day and the ring would hold no power over him with his pure purpose.

He smiled to himself in the dark and glanced over the sleeping forms of Merry and Pippin. Something unexpected happened as he did. His heart was moved as he observed their small bodies all bundled and cuddled together beneath their blankets. As much as he despised the fact that they were among the fellowship, he could not but help feel sorry for them.

They truly didn't understand what was happening and had been manipulated into their situation. The two younger ones had only come along out of loyalty to their kinsman. They had no business here and should never have been allowed to join the company. But Gandalf had insisted and Boromir knew it was a wrong choice. Something in him forebode their coming, much as Elrond had spoken of. But here they were and he added to his resolve to befriend them better but also to be their protector. He would teach them what skills he could in the use of their small weapons and show them what kindness and consatioation as there was in him. It was only fitting that he give to them what his father refused to give to him. He had no sons but Meriadoc and Peregrine would be as sons to him.

He let his gaze wander from the small sleeping forms as he resumed his nighttime watch.

*the next morning*

Boromir awoke with a start as he felt a small hand poke at his shoulder. He had slept too soundly and now was startled into wakefulness. He grabbed the hand that was prodding him and pulled the owner close to his now open eyes.

His stern, gray gaze met soft hazel eyes as he found himself face to face with Merry, the older of the two younger Halflings. He was struck by the sweetness and guilelessness of the soul behind those eyes and the retort he had prepared to give died on his lips. A strange feeling crept over him as the moment of contact lingered on. His heart was warm as it had never been and emotions began to grow that had never been fed. The Halfling smiled at him.

"Breakfast is ready." Came Merry's soft voice. "We let you sleep as long as we could, but, well, we have to go on now. Sorry."

Boromir found himself smiling back at the little one and gently released his hand from his rough grasp, before sitting up. He jumped to his feet and put his hand on Merry's head, ruffling the astoundingly soft curls amassed there.

"Thank you little master." He said warmly. "For the extra sleep and the call to break my fast. I am much appreciative. Have you eaten yet yourself or are you merely cook?"

Merry grinned up at him.

"I've had a small bite but can always do with another."

Boromir chuckled and took the young Hobbit by the hand, leading him towards the small, smokeless fire.

"Then you shall share mine with me. And perhaps you can tell me something of your people and your land away in the north. I am afraid that I know nothing of you except rumor and legend."

Merry beamed at him and led him towards the others as they ate.

*a day days later on the trail*

Boromir marched along in the rear, watching the others as they made their weary way across the barren lands of Eregion towards the feet of the Misty Mountains. He had been keeping a close eye on the young Hobbits to make sure that if they stumbled or fell or grew too weary that he would be close at hand to help them. His joining in the breakfast conversation with first Merry and then Pippin had seemed to break down the barriers that had surrounded him and separated him from the other members of the fellowship. He had felt a greater sense of camaraderie than before and it was soothing to him. Almost he could feel as if he were still back with his company in Osgiliath.

He had even felt more comfortable around Frodo and Gandalf, both of whom had been giving him discomfort as the former continued to send worried glances his way and the latter seemed to be trying to read his thoughts. Either way, both had been more relaxed in his company since then. He still had difficulty with Aragorn, but was coming to respect his skills as a tracker and guide. He seemed to know how to pick the easiest trail even when no track existed. He had even been able to make a few jests with the dwarf and the elf, though both of them seemed more concerned with impressing each other than with joining in the company conversations. The most lively of the companions were Merry and Pippin with their irrepressible humor and sense of adventure. No matter how dreary it seemed, both of them were able to bring either a smile or a laugh to his lips. He grew more glad of their company every day.

But another concern had been growing on his mind of late and that was the strange feelings he began to have whenever it came time to perform bodily functions or eat and even sleep. The two younger Hobbits had taken to following him wherever he went, even when he went to make water. They would pull their swords and take the stances that he was teaching them and say they were watching his back. But on more than one occasion, he had caught both of them trying to gain a glimpsehis his manhood. He had smiled at this at first, as he saw them as young boys merely curious about their elders, but lately it had felt different.

Just this morning, while the light was still pre-dawn, he had slipped away to perform his duty. Both young Hobbits had scrambledto fto follow him, drawing their swords and larking about. He had ignored them for the most part as he took himself in hand and began to empty his water on the stony ground, his eyes closed in the pleasure of the moment. A small sound had made him look up sharply only to discover Merry standing just off to his left with his hand in his breeches and gazing open mouthed at his significant member. Merry didn't notice that he was looking at him and Boromir was a little surprised that the young Hobbit's hand was moving in a familiar rhythm that he himself had employed on many occasions. Boromir looked away and gazed off into the distance before clearing this throat. Another soft sound told him that the little one had moved away and it was safe to finish his ablutions. It intrigued him that his own member was hardened slightly at the remembered sight of the young Hobbit pleasuring himself and gazing at him. But he had no time to wonder at this and with a final shake, he had put himself away and straightened his leathers. Legolas' call, gathering the company together for their march had driven such thoughts out of his head.

But now, as they marched along, coming closer and closer to the mountains, Boromir's mind raced at the thoughts he was having.

* ... it is perfectly normal for men of action to take pleasure with other men if no women are about ... a man at war must take care of all his needs as they arise ... these young halflings are out of their normal places and have no females of their own kind to take solace in so it is perfectly obvious they are merely youngsters who are seeking to satisfy whatever needs they have ... and why should they not find you fascinating ... are are different from them and you have been kind to them ... and you must admit that you are as interested in their different but not so different bodies as well ... it is not as if you have many other options ... there are no male comrades of your kind that you are comfortable with ... aragorn is too haughty andolveolved with himself to need you or anyone .. gandalf is a wizard and too dangerous by far... neither elves nor dwarves interest me as the one is too fragile and the other too rough ... the ringbearer and his servant are off limits to you as they are obviously invested in each other ... and so that brings you back to your two young friends... and fine young friends they are too... so sweet and small and yet sturdy too ... you could have some fun with them and perhaps give some of the love in your heart ... bah... love ... who would love you ... and why would your love be of interest to them ... such sweet creatures as they are.. you presume too much on ones so young and full of life ... you are a man of war and have no time for love .. your father saw to that ... no ... you must stay away from them in that way... go off by yourself and take care of your own needs and ask not others to seek anything from you ... it is best ... until you reach your home ... until the ring is safely in your hands .. remember your vow...*

He shook himself as he watched the curly heads ahead, one honey brown and the other softly lit with sunshine. It wasn't right for him to seek comfort with them. He wasn't good enough, at least that's how he saw it. He wouldn't be good enough until he brought victory to Gondor and then, mayhap then he could ask the little ones to join him. But no, they would go to their own lands and find females to succor their hurts and woes. His eyes darkened like a stormy winter sky as he spiraled down into his despairing thoughts of victory and loneliness.

*during the storm on Carahdras*

The Ice Giants had been flinging their fierce weather down upon them for two days and yet Boromir had spent the last two days in sheer joy. He had been responsible for the care and carrying of both Merry and Pippin. Despite his earlier resolve to avoid anything more than friendship with the two young Halflings, he had been unable to stop the growing desires and heartfelt emotions within him. They had grown closer to him as well, as the journey began to tell on their happy little souls. As they grew more despondent, they drew closer to him both physically and emotionally. The doted on him and began to worry for him as his moods grew darker and more dour. It had gone beyond friendship when the two had taken to snuggling up to him at night when they slept. He had not the heart to stop them and none of the others seemed to have objections so the three of them had become closer than brothers, but not quite lovers. None of them were brave enough for that, especially with no privacy. Nonetheless, the little ones had less control over their needs than he and many a night he had lain still as one, the other or both either rubbed themselves or rubbed against him until they fell asleep after a shuddering little climax.

Afterwards he would lie awake, his manhood throbbing and rigid inside the pouch of his leather breeches and wish he had met them during better days. But he would never take himself in hand as it would be most obvious and untoward for him to express himself so exposed as they were. Merry and Pippin were able to keep their actions small and quiet, but he would not have that ease as he knew his own reactions too well. His moans and movements would either awake the others or rouse them from their own quiet thoughts, bringing only shame and disapproval upon all three of them. He would wait, until some opportune moment and then slip away to have a quiet interlude and release himself without fear of discovery. It was distressing and left him both deeply tired and painfully aware of his own needs, but it was for the best.

He did not want to seem unworthy in the eyes of the others. He had already disappointed his father and now, after all these days and weeks, he had grown more than bonded with these brothers of the road. Gimli and Legolas had become fast his comrades as the three of them strove to support Gandalf and the Halflings. Gandalf had impressed upon him that he was very needed on their journey south and appreciated too. He and Aragorn had begun to form a bond that should be shared by Steward and King, though he was still loathe to admit that the rangy man was the true heir, but nonetheless, he could not deny the stoutness or majesty of Aragorn's heart. Even he and Sam had bonded a little, though that was difficult as the young gardener kept close to his master in all things, but the two had shared a few moments of brotherhood when Sam needed help with Bill the Pony.

And so, his feelings and needs towards the two youngest members of the company had to be put aside for the greater good. This would also ensure that he suffered no rejection or ridicule from them or any of the others. It would serve no purpose to have them shamed into showing their feelings and then have them reject him to avoid further shame by the rest of the fellowship. His way was best. Let them continue to satisfy their urges in the dark with him silent and close, while maintaining their dignity. It was enough for now.

But then the storm had started and the little ones were all too small and weak to brave the snows alone. He had quickly volunteered to carry Pippin and Merry up and over the other side if need be. They were now snuggled deep beneath the folds of his cloak, their warm, soft little bodies clutching at his big, strong one and their sweet, dainty hands tucked in places that were best left covered by cloak and blowing snow. In fact, Merry had his hand snugged inside his over shirt and was rubbing at his right nipple with his smooth little thumb and Pippin's hand clutched just in the top of the cleft of his buttocks. Both had their thighs wrapped around his waist, each with a knee rubbing against the bulge in his leathers. Their own warm little packages were pressed hard against each hip and he could feel the heat of them warming his body. It was all he could do to keep his attention on the path ahead of him, but keep going he did, until Gandalf finally called a halt. He regretfully let his young friends down to the ground where the went and stood shivering with their friends. He didn't miss their longing glances in his direction but he had to do what he could with the others of greater stature to ensure that the company did not fail. He shivered withwith a soft lowering of his lashes at his two little ones, he marched over to discuss their progress with Gandalf and Aragorn.

*deep in the Mines of Moria*

It was the middle of the night, or so Boromir thought and all about him were asleep except their guard Gimli. He was restless and things were made worse by the closeness of this little friends. They had performed their nightly duty for themselves but their hands had grown bold in the dark. Merry seemed to have more knowledge of touches and knew the spots he wanted to caress and have caressed, but Pippin had fumbled about, seeming not too sure of what he should touch and how. Boromir had very gently settled the youngest Halfling's hand on the warm spot on his lower belly, but not so low as to actually touch his manhood. This had seemed to satisfy the fair young little one and he had sighed softly as he rubbed the spot and himself at the same time.

After they had finished, they had drifted off to as contented a sleep as they could and he had tried to push his needs away, but tonight they would not go. He tried to not move too much and disturb his sweet young charges but he had to have some relief. There had been no opportunity for him to achieve release since they had left Imladris, and this constant attention without an end had finally built up to a point of insatiable agony. He had to complete the act at least once tonight or he would get no sleep and be of no use to his fellows on this dark leg of their journey.

Carefully, rising from his place between the two young ones, he gently nestled their heads and limbs on their packs and covered them with his own cloak. Then, with the softest of footsteps he made his way towards the dwarf where he sat guard. The two had a whispered conversation that Boromir was glad was in the dark as he had to explain why he needed to separate himself from the company for a brief while. Gimli had delivered a quiet warning to take great care and keep the noise down, but nothing else. No recriminations and no laughter. Perhaps his friend understood things better than he knew. The dwarf and elf Legolas had grown quite close since joining the fellowship and it was possible that they had formed their own special, secret alliance. It mattered not to him, but his own needs must be met. He bid Gimli farewell and went in search of a dark, safe corner to attend to his needs.

*a few moments later in a small, faintly moonlit anteroom off the main path*

He had found his solitude and almost at once breathed a sigh of relief. Finding a cozy spot on the floor he had settled himself in place, his knees slightly raised and spread apart the way he liked. With a sigh, he loosened his leathers and released his now rock hard member. The cool air caressed his flesh as he let is fingertips brush his shaft lightly from base to bulging tip. A low moan escaped his lips and he had to clamp his teeth shut to avoid any louder sounds. After a few moments of the barest of touching he slid one hand deep inside his breeches and clasped his overfull sack. He could feel how much he had held back as the heavy balls were stretched to capacity. Reveling in the sensations he firmly grasped his cock in his large hand and began to stroke it with a gentle squeeze at the base. As he approached his first climax, knowing that in his repressed state there would have to be more than one, he released his cock for a moment and spit into his palm. More lubrication was needed for these final moments of this orgasm and he let the slick hand glide up and over the tip. He could feel the first pearly drop form and push it's way out, adding to the slipperiness and his motions began to increase in pace. Finally, after only a few moments, his climax flew from him like an arrow in flight and his body arced and shuddered as heat and sticky fluid burst from his loins like fire.

When the orgasm faded to a dull warm heat, he released his member from his grasp and leaned his head back against the gritty wall. He waited for his breathing to slow and his heart to stop racing. His cock softened slightly and dripped the last remnants of it's precious fluid into a puddle between his thighs. A half moan, half sigh escaped his lips and he felt at peace for the first time in weeks.

A second later a soft gasp and then a whimper made his head snap forward. He felt his skin go cold as he knew he had been discovered.

*continued in SANCTUARY*