|Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in adventdrabbles,|
@ 2010-12-05 08:56:00
|Entry tags:||contributor: celandineb, dec05, fandom: lord of the rings, year: 2010|
Dec05, Lord of the Rings, Aragorn/Boromir, Oath of Silver, Oath of Gold
Title: Oath of Silver, Oath of Gold
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Warning: watersports, D/s [in a sense]
Note: 1195 words. For cruisedirector who left my options wide open and gave the prompt "No such thing," which I used rather allusively. Also, this turned into almost a full-length fic rather than a drabble or even a ficlet!
The first day or two out of Rivendell, Aragorn assessed his companions. It was old habit: where did each stand in the abilities that would support the well being of the group, and which-if any-of them could be trusted to take over leadership in need? Out here in the wild, a strong sword and a strong will were both necessary in that role.
Gandalf was their guide, of course, and Aragorn had nothing but respect for the wizard, but he was not by nature one of a military bent. The hobbits, of course, were even less so. They had good stuff in them, and he had no doubt that they would be brave in a pinch, yet their size, and the isolation of their home from the larger world, meant that no hobbit was likely to be a natural leader of a mixed group such as this.
The dwarf and the elf, he acknowledged, were both experienced fighters, but young. Gimli was little more than a stripling among his own people, and Legolas not much better for all that he was a king's son. While each surely had some experience leading hunting bands, again, Aragorn was not wholly confident of either one's ability to take charge of the Fellowship without provoking dissension, although he knew each would do his best, were it necessary.
That left Boromir, the only other man in the group. He certainly had the ability and experience in matters military. Aragorn guessed that it had been ten years since Boromir had had any superior officer save his father, the Steward. He would have had little or no experience of working with allied races, but then none of the Fellowship had much of that save for Gandalf and Aragorn himself. More worrying was Boromir's reluctance to accept Aragorn as the leader of the Fellowship in matters practical as he accepted Gandalf as the group's guide. Aragorn understood why, but that made no difference. He would have to find a way to demonstrate dominance, a way that Boromir would accept, and one, too, that would not involve the rest of the Fellowship.
His years of service in Gondor gave him the answer. Though he had held no rank higher than Boromir's, he had been granted it many years earlier, and thus had seniority. He trusted that the rituals reinforcing that hierarchy had not changed in the intervening decades.
On the fourth day out from Rivendell, then, Aragorn found occasion to give Boromir a signal that he knew the other man would recognize, though not expect. Boromir's eyes widened, and his jaw set in stubborn lines. Aragorn repeated the gesture, and followed it with a second, one that was certain to bring Boromir less joy yet, but which he could not in honor deny.
Aragorn had chosen a night when Gimli had the first turn at watch, trusting that the dwarf would consider any strange actions of the two men as unworthy of his notice. Accordingly he slipped from his bedroll and made his way quietly to a spot several hundred yards north of that night's camp. There he waited, and as he expected, Boromir found him there a few minutes later.
"What mean you by this?" Boromir demanded in a low voice. "Why should I obey you?"
"Because your oath as a captain of Gondor demands it," replied Aragorn. Standing at his full height, he measured several inches taller than Boromir, although the other man was doughtier. In battle, Aragorn surmised, they would be well matched-and tonight was a battle, of sorts, if one of will rather than steel.
"Name your authority, then." Boromir's voice conveyed pride and reluctance. "It is my right to know that."
"So it is," agreed Aragorn. "Know, then, that my commission comes from the late Steward of Gondor himself, your grandsire Ecthelion, and know further that I too have been sworn by both silver and gold."
Boromir yet resisted. "No oath of gold has been taken since my father's time."
"Then as your father still lives, it is still his time. Even were it not, this demand may not be gainsaid. Once more, Boromir, captain of Gondor, I call on you. Yield up to me, or know that when this quest is fulfilled and I have the leisure to attend to it, I will make known your refusal throughout Gondor." Aragorn put all the power of his will into the words. "Kneel."
Slowly Boromir knelt. Even in the dim light Aragorn could see the heat of anger smoldering in his eyes.
"What would you have me do, then?"
"It is too cold to require you to strip naked, and although you could wash in the stream, our companions should not be made aware of the rituals of Gondor. You may perform the ritual and take the oath of silver, first, and then accept an abbreviated form of the oath of gold." Aragorn waited for Boromir's nod. "Begin."
With unsteady hands Boromir untied the laces that held closed Aragorn's leggings, revealing the erect cock beneath. He nuzzled at it, his hands on Aragorn's hips. Boromir's tongue was agile: it flickered along Aragorn's pulsing length before he took it all into his mouth, suckling in a way that felt curiously reverential. Aragorn wondered how often Boromir had done this before, whether in ritual or for pleasure; his technique was not that of one who lacked experience.
As Boromir mouthed him, lips and tongue and even teeth working, Aragorn gave himself up to the sensation, resting his hands on Boromir's head to keep his balance. He was careful to give no sign of his impending orgasm; part of the significance of the ritual was that the one performing it should accept what he was given, when he was given it, without dismay or demur. Thus when Aragorn quivered with release, Boromir gasped and choked slightly, but maintained his position, swallowing each drop.
"Thus the silver," said Aragorn softly. "Are you prepared for the gold?"
"My lord..." Boromir hesitated. "May I ask, will I be required to accept the oath gold in the same way?"
"No," Aragorn assured him. "Not unless you so choose. I had thought that you might take it by hand, under the circumstances."
Boromir licked his lips. "If I might choose...?"
Hastily Boromir lowered his leggings to his knees. "I would mingle your gold with my silver," he said, stretching out on the fallen leaves and taking his cock in hand.
Had he not reached his own orgasm but moments before, Aragorn would have been hard immediately at the sight. As it was, it took all his willpower to control himself enough to nod acquiescence, and to send a steaming stream of the king's gold onto Boromir's now willing body. Boromir gave a muffled cry at the first drop, his hand working himself frantically. Before Aragorn's bladder was empty, Boromir had come.
They were sealed to each other now; the oath of silver bound many of Gondor's warriors, but the oath of gold had never been given to more than a few. Boromir might still speak his mind, but no longer would he contest Aragorn's leadership.
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