Blackmailed Love

BLACKMAILED LOVE.


PROLOGUE:

Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, more likely known to the population of the Shire as the troublesome duo of Merry and Pippin where outside on a windy Autumn morning picking the last of the apples from a large and beautiful old apple tree on the edge of a small hill.

“ Just a bit further Merry…” cried Pippin reaching forward for a small and rather wrinkled apple, just like many of the other apples they had picked. But that did not matter, it was the sense of adventure of sneaking into Farmer Maggot’s orchard to steal the measly apples that drew them.

“Easier said than done cousin…” panted Merry squatting on the crook of a tree branch with Pippin on his shoulders trying to boost him up further.

Just then a sudden icy blast of wind blew from the north.

“Woah! It’s really shaky up here!” wailed Pippin looking down and squeezing his eyes shut with fright.
“Don’t worry Pip, I gotcha… just reach a bit more you can do it.” Encouraged Merry chocking as Pippin’s legs tightened around his throat.

Pippin started to reach forward again when the wind blew back the other way, hurting his eyes. Pippin yelped and reached out for the apple and at the same time toppling over.

“Ahhh!” yelled Merry as Pippin caused him to fall also.

Pippin felt as if the world was moving in slow motion as he and his cousin fell to earth, but having smaller bodies than most other people in Middle Earth Pippin had more time to roll up into a ball before his body came into contact with the ground.

SMACK! He hit. He had hardly enough time to recover his wits before Merry came crashing down on top of him, smacking him down the hill they both tumbled. Their screams of fright turning into whoops of joy as the rolled down the hill together. The world looked like a kaleidoscope to Merry as everything went round and round and round. He could feel the small squashy apples in his back pockets turning into applesauce as they tumbled. Then he saw it… the small stream looming up.

“STREAM! STREAM PIPPIN STREAM!” he yelled out as best as he could still rolling over and getting mouthfuls of grass. He tried to reach out to his younger cousin. There was a small bump and he managed to grab Pippin before he fell in. Unfortunately with the sudden yanking back of his jacket on behalf of Merry, Pippin lost his apple, which he had managed to hold in his hand throughout the entire journey down the hill. Yes, the very apple that caused Merry and himself to fall out of the tree and down to where he was now sitting on the bank of the stream.

“Hey! I was saving that!” he cried rather affronted. Merry was most put out by his heroics going unnoticed.
“Would you rather you fell in the stream you foolish Took?” he asked, shoving his cousin so that he fell into the shallow part of the stream.

Pippin grinned at the memory of the day. The very day before he had gone with Frodo to Bree. Now he was trudging along, feeling exhausted already during the early part of the day with a company of friends and strangers alike. They were going to some place called Mordor of which Pippin knew little and all of it was unpleasant. With him went his cousin and best friend Merry, his older cousin Frodo, his gardener Sam, Gandalf the Grey, a powerful wizard and friend of Frodo and Uncle Bilbo, Strider a ranger, Gimli a dwarf, Legolas an elf and lastly Boromir a man of a Southern land called Gondor. It was only the second day since they had set out from Rivendell but already Merry and Pippin had made an impression on all members of the fellowship.
“Are you from Mirkwood, Legolas?” asked Merry breaking the ice on the first day.

“Yes.” He replied.

“The ACTUAL Mirkwood?” said Merry astounded, he had heard many a tale from Old Uncle Bilbo about Mirkwood.

“Yes, the same. Do you know of any other?” asked Legolas a faint smile forming on his lips by the Brandybucks irrepressible curiosity. Pippin grew into an excited, mumbling body.

“Do you suppose he was in the Battle of the Five Armies Merry?” he asked quietly and quickly.
Legolas of course heard but did not let them gave the benefit of knowing that.

“I dunno Pip, why don’t YOU ask him?”

“I don’t know, I thought perhaps it would be rude of me.”

“You never cared for manners before Pippin, why start now?”

“I’m trying to make a good impression in front of an Elf, Merry.”
At this Legolas started laughing.

“Do not worry about making any impressions young hobbits, I have already heard a great deal about you two rascals from Aragorn.”

Pippin blushed, “You heard me.”

“Of course. What do you think these are for?” he said indicating his ears. “I see you have much to learn about the ways of Elves Master Peregrin and Master Meriadoc.”

“Merry and Pippin thanks.” Said Merry.

“Very, well, Merry and Pippin.”

But of all the member of the fellowship Pippin had inexplicitly been drawn to the quiet, arrogant Steward of Gondor. Boromir. There was just that something about him, Pippin just couldn’t explain.

Pippin was being annoying.

‘Okay Pip, you’re my best friend and I love you but could you please just shut up! You’ve been telling his life story over and over again… even my life story though I have to tell him to keep his mouth shut at some parts. Good lord!’ Thought Merry to himself.

Boromir had been grinning now he was trying desperately to tune out the yapping voice of the young Took.

“Blah blah blah…” Pippin just went on and on. “That’s it!” Merry yelled. He went to kick Pippin, but Pippin yelped and leapt away. Merry began to chase him round the fellowship. Pippin was now breaking into high-pitched shrieks, enjoying the chase. “Come here wussy boy!”

“I’m not wussy!” called back Pippin, colliding into Gandalf’s staff and promptly knocked himself out. The whole Fellowship cracked up then realized that Pippin could be really hurt and Gandalf revived him.

Pippin groaned, “Since when have you had a twin brother Gandalf.” Asked Pippin obviously seeing double.

Gandalf chuckled and said, “I fear you may have concussion young Peregrin but it did shut you up.”

“Ha! You are a wussy!” said Merry triumphantly, helping his smaller cousin up. “You knocked yourself out on a lame old stick.”

Pippin looked a bit putout but the out come was that he finally shut up and the rest of the Fellowship could travel in peace. Pippin was grumpy the rest of the day, not to mention having one hell of a headache. Suddenly he felt a large hand on his shoulder.

“How’s the head feeling Pip?” It was Boromir.

Pippin blushed slightly at the touch. “Mm much better now thanks.” He stuttered a bit. Boromir grinned and patted him lightly on the back as he walked past. Pippin could smell his musky masculine smell that he had become very fond of radiate from him as he walked past and he sighed slightly. A dreamy look past of his eyes. A look that Merry instantly noticed in his young friend.

“So go make a move.” He said sidling up to him.

“What?” Pippin was shook out of far away thoughts.

“Boromir I mean, I see that look you get after he talks to you. Look’s like little Pip’s got a crush on one of the Big Folk!”

“Merry, what are you on about! If you’re on pipe weed then share it around!” Said Pippin going from a pale white of shock to an angry red.

“Never worry Pip Squeak, I won’t tell him, but if you’re going to insist on being a foolish Took around him all the time than I’ll be forced to step in.”

Pippin was silent for a moment, “I hate when you call me that Merry.”

“What Pip Squeak? He he! I know you do, but that’s what makes it so much fun.” Pippin knew that Merry was getting hyped up, he often did too when he was lacking in sleep, just as they where, but at the moment, he was in no mood for Merry’s good-natured jest.

Soon they stopped off.

“Finally,” moaned Frodo, rubbing sore feet. Sam immediately went to help relieve his master of his pain by giving him a foot massage. If anyone had been looking in his direction at the time they would have seen a fleeting scowl of jealously on the face of a certain Brandybuck.

Pippin slumped down and let the bag slip off his back. He yawned loudly and pulled out a woolen blanket. He wrapped it around himself and got ready to go to sleep. “Pippin…” there came a quiet voice.

“Hmmm,” he moaned frowning, opening one eye. It was Legolas.

“You are appearing that you have chosen not to have any supper. Are you unwell?” he asked a little concerned. From what Legolas had gathered on the few days he had spent on the road with hobbits was their insatiable appetities.

“No. I’m not hungry.” Muttered Pippin closing his eyes again. Legolas was rather taken aback and leapt back up to tell the others immediately.

“Pippin not hungry? This is bad!” said Frodo.

“I reckon he hit himself harder on the head than we gave him credit for I’d say, this is very much unlike Mr. Pippin and no mistake.” Said Sam.

Merry frowned. He got up and walked towards Pippin.

“Hey Pippin, you awake?” he asked. No reply. “Piiii pin, hellooo?” Still nothing. Merry gently flicked the tip of his nose. Pippin groaned and wrinkled his nose.

“What?” he asked, sleepily and annoyed.

“Hey Pippin, there’s Sam’s yummy mushroom soup. Remember how much you like that, I kept some for you.”

“Thanks but you eat it.” Pippin sighed rolling over.

Merry reached out a palm and layed it against Pippin’s head. It felt normal. “Whassa matta Pip?”

“Headache.”

“Bet Boromir could make it all better huh?” he grinned. Pippin rolled over eyes wide.

Merry laughed, “I know you Pip! Attention seeker! You just want some sweet loving from big old Boromir, well if that was the plan than I’ll go get him! Otherwise, come and get some supper before you sleep. You’ll need it for tommorow.”

Pippin was astounded; he thought that he’d tricked Merry too. Obviously knowing a guy your whole life has some drawbacks.

“So getting up?” Merry asked.

“Oh all right, but speak a word of this to anyone and I’ll tell Frodo about that look that you gave Sam today.”

Now it was Merry’s turn to open his eyes, stunned. “You saw that!”

“Of course, just the same way you saw through my guise. I saw that look.”

“Fine you got yourself a deal Pip. Just keep that pie-hole of yours firmly closed!”

“Hmmm, what sort of pie Merry?”

After supper was devoured, Pippin returned to his blanket and prepared to settle down a second time. Boromir also wandered over to his blanket some feet away from them.

‘Oh, how he wished to lie with him, to feel his arms as big as tree trunks wrapped snuggly round his delicate frame…’Pippin was knocked by such thoughts by the loud, rude voice of Merry.

“Hey Boromir, come lie over here! Don’t go isolating yourself over there, it’s rude!” The man’s head snapped up and he grinned.

“I thank you Meriadoc for you kind invitation, I will accept.”

Pippin paled visibly when Boromir came over.

“You can sleep here.” Merry patting the ground with his foot where he intended Boromir to go, this was practically less than a hair’s breadth away from Pippin. Merry smirked, pleased with himself. “You’ll be thanking me later,” he said quietly.

Pippin was quite dumbfounded, he did not know whether to love or hate his cousin for what he had done. Merry went to lie on the other side of Boromir.

“Merry, I thought that you would lie here, next to Frodo, like you always do. He’ll be disappointed.”

“What!” shrieked Merry. “Pippin, you just shut your trap!”

Pippin giggled, “Make me!”

Merry roared and leapt over Boromir. Pippin yelped as Merry began to pound him.

“Ow ow ow, I’ve just eaten arrrgg!”

“You’ll pay for that you treacherous Took… ow… stop pulling my hair you ass!”

Boromir, who at first had sat back letting them sort out whatever problems they where having was now worried for the safety of both. They wrestled, trying to scratch the others eyes out. Eventually Merry, being the larger stronger one of the two, backhanded Pippin and the groggy Took found himself on the ground with a nose, which had just begun to throb a little. Blood tickled his nose and snarled: “That’s it!” But Boromir grabbed both of their jackets and held them apart in the air. They swung fists at each other, yelling things such as, “Let me at em!” and “I’m not through with you yet villain!”

“Calm down you two, please! You are behaving like spoilt little children. Be still or I’ll be forced to treat you like the children in Gondor and tell you a bedtime story to shut you up.”

“Really?” they asked in unison, shutting up and looking immediately interested.

“Beware Boromir, there is no age restriction for bedtime stories in the Shire.” Said Aragorn grinning at the comical scene of the two young hobbits dangling from Boromir’s hands by their collars. Boromir grumbled, he did not mean the threat to go this way.

“Well,” said Merry, folding his arms and legs still hovering above the ground, “Aren’t you going to put us down so we can listen?” Pippin hacked; his shirt was being pulled up around his throat and was chocking him. Boromir put them down.

“What’s the story about?” asked Merry.

“Umm, well, I, I’m sorry but I don’t know many stories, sorry guys.”

Merry and Pippin’s faces turned to complete disappointment.

“Not even one?” asked Pippin, giving him puppy dog eyes, which he had used to get out of trouble for as long as he could remember.
Boromir hated that look and he searched his mind for something to keep them entertained.

“Well, let’s see here, well how would you like to know the tale behind my largest scar?”

“Oh yes please!” said Merry excitedly, “We’d love to hear that one, wouldn’t we Pip?”

Pippin nodded fervently.

Boromir chuckled, “Well, it’s not nearly as exciting as it sounds looking back on it, but for lads of your age the story may prove to be amusing.”

“Can we see the scar Boromir can we?” asked Merry excitedly.

“Well, I don’t know about that.” Merry and Pippin’s faces fell again. “But I guess I could…”

“YEAH!” they started before he could finish.

Boromir hesitantly took off his leather jacket. Suddenly, it registered in Pippin’s mind; maybe Boromir did not want to show them the scar because it was in an unsuitable place. His cheeks flushed scarlet. Merry leaned forward to watch. Boromir slowly undid his thin shirt revealing a smooth, tanned skin underneath. Pippin’s breathing hitched. He had to look away or he just knew he would start drooling, but his eyes where magnetically held onto Boromir’s fingers as he slowing removed his clothing.

“Well there it is,” said Boromir. He had taken off that clothing way to quickly for Pippin’s taste, he could have sat there watching that display forever.

“Woah! It’s huge!” said Merry. Pippin shook his head and laid eyes on the biggest scar he had ever seen in his life. It started at Boromir’s shoulder and ran in a fairly straight line down to his belly button.

“Can I touch it?” asked Merry.

“You may,” he replied, smiling at the young Brandybuck’s wonderment.

Merry reached out and snaked his finger along the scar. “Man, that would’ve hurt!”

“It did at the time yes, would you like a touch Pippin?” asked Boromir.

Pippin suddenly looked like a deer in the headlights. Would I ever! He thought. But just as he was about to he thought suddenly, what if I can’t let go? It may sound silly to you or I but this thought was very serious to Master Peregrin. What if he touched him, and liked it so much he could not be removed.

“Um, I don’t want to hurt you,” he muttered lamely.

“I thank you for your concern Pippin, but I assure you that it does not hurt.”

Feeling he had no more excuses Pippin reached out and touch his warm skin. It was soft and smooth and yet hard from the thick cords of muscle, which lay underneath. Pippin was lost then with a small cough from Boromir he removed his hand. Pippin was in a trance as Boromir put his clothes back on.

“Well on with the story.” Said Merry cheerily.

Yes the story, now Pippin remembered the reasoning behind what had just occurred.

“Well,” said Boromir, “It was a long time ago, you may not have been born at that time, but this is how I remember it.”

***

“Faramir you dog, give that back!”

Twelve year old Boromir charged up the stairs of the White Tower. It was an early Sunday morning, and Boromir had been up writing a secret love letter to a certain lass he shared classes with at the local school.

Faramir laughed out loud, “Mwaaaahahahahaa, I hold the key to Brom’s undoing! Finally, I have beaten you big brother!” called seven year old Faramir in a high-pitched voice.

“If you ever show that to anyone you’ll curse the day mother brought you into this world you little miscreant!” Hollered Boromir, feet away from catching his brother.

Up and up they ran, legs burning but never ceasing as they ran up the flights of the 50 odd story high building. Soon they had reached the top and Faramir ran panting in, catching his breath. The truth of the matter was that he would never really show that letter to anybody and he would give it back eventually. But Boromir didn’t know that and Faramir was bored and wanted a bit of fun. He laughed a little thinking that he had lost him. And turned his back to read the rest of the letter.

“Oh no you don’t!” Boromir came lunging up the stairs two at a time. Faramir yelped, he was trapped, on the top floor of the tower there was nowhere else to go.

“Ha ha! I have you now! Nice going Faramir but it seems I have beaten you at brains also!” he said as he menacingly approached the younger sandy haired boy. Just as he was about to pounce, Faramir leapt onto the open windowsill of the tower.

“Not yet! If you still want your lovey dovey letter to Gwilia back you’ll have to follow me!” said Faramir as he backed out onto the thin ledge that wound around each level of the tower.

“Faramir are you crazy?!” shrieked Boromir in frustration and terror for his little brother. “Get back inside here right now!”

“We’ll see who’s crazy, if you want it Brom, come and get it!”

Boromir in a fit of rage ran up to the window and leapt onto the sill. He looked down, “Oh!” he squeaked, his insides freezing at how high up he was. He had often looked out of the White Tower on the balconies, but never from a windowsill on the top floor.

“What’s the matter, you’re not scared are you?” asked his younger brother a little mockingly, a little worried that maybe they shouldn’t be doing this. As a rule, it was usually too dangerous if Boromir was afraid to try it, but Boromir growled:

“It is you who should be scared. I’m coming for you.”

He crept out onto the sill and with his back to the wall slowly edged around.

Faramir grinned and began to edge away from him, giggling with the excitement of it all.

Far below, on the streets of Minas Tirith it was market day. Denethor, the Steward of Gondor and acting King was wandering around looking for some fresh pork for that night’s meal. All of a sudden there came a shout.

“Look up there!”

“What is it?”

“It can’t be? Is it?”

At that time Denethor looked up.

“What in all of Middle Earth are Boromir and Faramir doing outside the top floor of Ecthelion?”

As you can probably guess he was none too pleased about seeing the heirs of Gondor dilly-dallying around in what could potentially be an extremely dangerous situation.

“Boromir! Faramir! Get inside right now!” he yelled up.

Of course he was not heard.

“Gerond, quickly send forth word to the people in the tower to get my sons down from there.” As his manservant left Denethor quickly went another way to another tower opposite Ecthelion.

Boromir was quickly gaining on his brother and was nearly in range to make a grab for his brother but just as he we had the instinct to look across. Down a bit in the adjacent tower he saw… HIS FATHER?! And he did not look like he was about to offer him ice cream either.

“Sir!” he yelled out.

“What is it Brom?” Faramir asked.

Boromir just about jumped out of his skin, he had forgotten Faramir was there. But he did not jump out of his skin, he just, jumped right off the tower!

“Boromir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” yelled Faramir.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Boromir yelled.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!” Denethor yelled equally loud.

Boromir began to windmill his arms and just as he was about to say his final prayers he felt something tear into his stomach right up to his shoulder. In his mind filled with adrenaline Boromir reached for the cold sharp thing that had cut him. He stopped falling. His heart very slowly began to slow down and he jerkily looked up to seen what he had caught hold of. It was one of the banner spikes. He grinned stupidly, such dumb luck that was. All of a sudden he noticed the pain in his side. He yelled out a bit pain and for help.

“Try to stay calm Son of Gondor.” Said a familiar voice. It was Gerond.

A ladder was lifted up and Boromir was brought down. It was such a relief to be back inside again and alive.

Faramir came running in.

“I’m soooo sorry Boromir, I’ll never do that again. I thought you where going to die!” sobbed the boy.

Boromir now sufficiently calmed down was able to have a try at a joke. “Yes, I am alive, but I am afraid that you will not be.”

Faramir looked up, his eyes shinning with tears and began to cry again, he clenched onto Boromir’s shoulders.

“Ow!” cried Boromir sharply. He grasped his shoulder and blood seeped out onto his hand. Gerond immediately went to Boromir’s aid, who passed out from sheer exhaustion.

When he woke up sometime after his father was there by his bedside.

“Sir?” he asked timidly.

“That was a dangerous stunt you two pulled and you shall be punished severely for it. You just about gave me a heart attack seeing my only blood up there on the verge of death.”

“I am very sorry sir, it will not happen again.” He said apologetically.

“Yes, I felt that that scar that you’ll get will be hindrance enough against repeating that exercise.”

“My scar?”

“You have injured yourself quite severally Gondor’s Son. This day will mark you the rest of your life.”

“Where is Faramir?”

To that Denethor chuckled a bit. “Somewhere he wishes he wasn’t,” was all he said.

*

“There that was how it happened,” said Boromir, coming back into the present and leaving that memory to burrow deep back into the recesses of his mind. There was a strange silence that followed, before Pippin blurted out:

“You wrote a love letter?!” he snorted with laugher at the very thought of Boromir ever writing a love letter.

Boromir was shocked that Pippin would find that the most important detail of the tale, he certainly did not think that was the highlight of it.

“Master Peregrin I am going to have to ask you to stop laughing. It is not that funny.”

“Oh yeah, right!” sniggered Pippin.

“Right that’s it I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget, no one gets the best of Boromir!”

Pippin shrieked as Boromir reached for him and rolled away. Boromir grabbed him by the ankle and yanked him back and began to poke him all over with gentle fingers.

Pippin yelped and wriggled. “No! No! Oh Merry help!”

Merry who had been half listening to the story was now devoting his time to watching Frodo help Sam to clean up and clear away the cooking ware. He especially enjoyed it when Frodo had to bend over. But now his Frodo observation was rudely interrupted from the racket, which had begun behind him all of a sudden.

He grinned when he saw that Pippin was ultimately getting what he deserved. Boromir now had both of Pippin’s wrists in a tight grip above Pippin’s head. With his free hand he was tickling Pippin just below his under arm. Pippin was crying with laugher and was kicking his feet in an attempt to remove Boromir.
Merry allowed himself to indulge in this play before he lunged at Boromir with a roar to get him to stop but only succeeded in getting into Boromir’s grasp as well.

Legolas who had been spending the past half hour brushing his hair whilst having yet another argument with Gimli looked up to see Boromir trying to pin Merry to the ground while having Pippin leaping onto his back covering his eyes from behind.

The rest of the fellowship laughed at them until Aragorn got up and told the ‘children’ that playtime was over and that they would have to get a good night’s sleep so that they could start of bright and early.

Boromir, in his present excitable mood said, “Yes sir, right away sir, whatever you say sir.” Merry and Pippin giggled quietly before getting ready to settle down for sleep for a third time that night.

The firelight played red and black shadows across their faces. The Fellowship sat around it in their blankets.

Pippin had a smile as wide as the Anduin on his face. Whatever Merry had done, he was grateful for it. Boromir was sitting right next to him and yet he didn’t feel like a complete bumbling idiot. He wouldn’t have him know though; he did want to live the rest of his days being gloated to by his cousin. He sighed as he realized that he would have to return the favor with Frodo, though he had no idea how. He was not as clever as Merry in that department.

Merry was joking with Sam or rather at him. Sam, like everyone else, knew that Merry was never serious. Aragorn, Gandalf, Gimli, Frodo and Merry where all sharing in a quiet smoke and where discussing about trivial things such as where they would like to be in the next twenty years, to which Sam depressingly said:

“If we live that long.”

And that convosation was ended, which led into another, and that was what Merry was teasing Samwise about.

Pippin sighed, feeling safe and warm in the company of his friends. He snuggled against Boromir’s arm. Boromir grinned and Pippin giggled as he was lifted into Boromir’s lap, wrapping his arms around Pippin in a bear hug. Pippin slipped down Boromir’s chest looking like a small child in the arms of the large man when in actual fact Boromir would not have been that many years older than himself. Pippin could have sworn that he had died because if this wasn’t heaven than he didn’t know what to call it.

His eyes began to cloud over and the smoke curled into many smiling faces, Aragorn who was directly across from him was a coloured blur. He yawned sleepily and closed his eyes. Within moments he had fallen asleep leaning against Boromir’s chest.

The discussion around the fire did not last much longer, the moon was rising and the clouds parted to reveal a million stars. Aragorn yawned and Gandalf suggested it was time to turn in. Aragorn looked across at Boromir, who was looking down at his lap. Aragorn could not describe the look on his face; it was a mixture of content, a little amusement and a deep fondness for the little creature in his arms. Aragorn’s first reaction was “Awwww”. The Gondorian’s head shot up.

“What was that supposed to mean?” he asked sharply, mistaking the ‘awww’ for mockery.

“I meant nothing by it just that you two look so cute like that!” said Aragorn, getting a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Cute? Bah!” said Boromir.

“I’ve never seen this side of you before Steward. It’s really quite… oh how shall I put it… adorable?” said Aragorn cheekily.

“Beware you may be my future King, but you are not the King yet. There is still plenty of time to kill you before that time comes.” he said getting up, totally forgetting about Pippin until he moaned a little in protested at his snuggly bed’s sudden choice to get up. Boromir instantly froze and slowly sat down again.

Aragorn and the others chuckled at the bemused expression on his face.

“What am I going to do with you Pip?” Boromir asked quietly under his breath.

“You are a case Gondor’s Son,” said Aragorn to himself.


TBC