Disclaimer: Tolkien, or rather his heirs and those who bought the copyright, own Lord of the Rings. I just came to play in the sandbox.
Warning: Slash. Homoeroticism. Mild sexual situations intended for a mature audience.
Archive: Ask, and ye shall receive.
Summary: They say that to have loved and lost tis better than to never have loved at all. But have they ever tried it?

Notes: "Vanwa i Nenlantane" means "Over the Waterfall" in Quenya Elvish. I would like to say that Kaz is wicked. She has created these gorgeous pieces of fanart, to which my muses feel compelled to write a story about. I can't stop them, they are out of control. Originally, I had wanted to write a story based off a loverly Aragorn/Legolas piece she did, but the story refused to come out right. Then I noticed she said that Boromir and Legolas was her favorite pairing. And I was in the mood for angst. And an idea bit me... This is the written companion to a gorgeous piece of Boromir and Legolas kissing in the rain. This is my first Boromir piece, *and* my first non-Aragorn/Legolas piece, so please be gentle with me. (And yes, I know there's a little Aragorn/Legolas in here, but I'm a shipper. What do you expect?) Oh, yes, and this is movie-verse only.

Vanwa i Nenlantane

By Eruntalince

       

"I nearly think you fancy him."

Legolas didn't even turn to face Boromir when the Man spoke. The Elf was calmly meditating on a rock, and it seemed he was meditating on Aragorn, who sat a bit away, sharpening his sword.

A weary sigh escaped Boromir as he sat down near Legolas, staring up at the silent Elf. No expression crossed the perfectly smooth face. Boromir's wonderment for the Elf's smooth, masculine beauty had yet to fade. He desired the Elf, but Legolas seemed untouchable.

"As usual, you greet me with silence, Master Elf. I nearly think you prefer even the Dwarf's company to my own," Boromir said, a bit more crossly than he meant to.

Legolas finally broke his silence. "You ‘nearly think’ far too much, Son of Gondor. You should either think or not think. Nearly thinking will get you nowhere," Legolas said, his melodious voice rippling out to brush against Boromir's ears.

A smile twitched at the corner of Boromir's mouth. They were five days from Rivendell, and it was the first time the Elf had spoken to him since the council.

"Wit becomes you, fair Legolas. I nearly thought you had no sense of humor," Boromir said airily, intentionally using his phrase.

Legolas finally turned to regard the handsome Man beside him, as if to consider if Boromir was something he should ignore or squash like a bug. "You are jealous of him," he said evenly.

Boromir ground his teeth, his eyes narrowing. There was no point in lying to the Elf. "Do I not have a right to be? He has everything, does he not? Even if he does not see it, nor take advantage of it, he still has everything. Even your love, he commands," Boromir ground out.

Legolas shrugged, as if it did not matter. But there was a glimmer in his eye, a glimmer of some sort of emotion, though Boromir could not fathom it.

"So what they say about Elves is true then? That you fancy those of the same gender?" Boromir asked.

Legolas shrugged again. "We revere love. Love in all its forms. True love is not bound by the physicality of a body. It sees past things like gender or race. Most of us do not fancy those of the same gender, but when we do, we think nothing of it. Unlike the world of Men, who ridicule and ostracize any who differ from the norm. Do not think you can offend me with your harsh words and mindless prejudice," he said, managing to sound both patronizing and scornful at the same time.

Boromir smiled bitterly. "We Men, in our sorry mortal world, also revere love, though we often fall short of our ideals, being only Men. Those who dally with their gender at home are often scorned, but not always. And on the battlefield, rules change. Comfort and pleasure are taken where it can be found, as women are a rare occurrence then. Like Elves, we then ignore the casings of a body. I myself have found both comfort and pleasure in the arms of another man before battle. It makes no difference to me. Do not judge either my race or me so quickly, Master Elf," he retorted.

Legolas actually dipped his head in apology, his hair falling across his face in silken waves of gold. "My apologies, Son of Gondor. I confess I did judge you too quickly. I meant no offense," he said, his voice losing the frost the Elf reserved for both Boromir and Gimli.

Boromir fell silent for a long time whilst Legolas sat and meditated on Aragorn. "You do love him then?" he asked.

"I do not see how it makes a difference," Legolas said softly, pulling out his bow and polishing it with both love and care.

"Have you told him?" Boromir continued, as if Legolas had answered him.

"He is betrothed to the Lady Arwen."

"The Elf wench? Elrond's daughter? How convenient of Aragorn to find such a political union with a wench pretty enough to bed," Boromir snorted with disdain.

Legolas stiffened. "I shall forgive your grave offense because you must not know her. The Lady Arwen is no 'wench'. She is a great lady, possessing both wisdom and beauty beyond compare. That you insult her is an insult to my race," he said icily, his tone reminiscent of the scolding he gave Boromir during the council.

Boromir blinked in surprise. "You are not jealous of her...?"

"True love is not bound up in oneself, but in the other. That he is happy, and he loves, brings me joy. It is all I ask in life," Legolas said simply.

Boromir turned his face, considering Aragorn as the Man put away his sword and spread out his bedroll for sleep. "I admire you. If it were me, I would resent her," he said softly.

"You are not me, yet you resent her. Do not begrudge Aragorn his happiness. He suffers enough."

"You are wise, Master Elf, far beyond your years."

Legolas actually smiled. "Thank you, but I am already approaching my second millennia. I am no longer a child, and have simply adopted the wisdom of any adult Elf," he said with some amusement.

Boromir choked a bit. "You look young enough to be my son. To hear you speak so blithely of passing millennia disturbs me, for I have never even seen an Elf before arriving at Rivendell a week ago," he said.

"I am young for an Elf, if it comforts you."

"It does not comfort me in the least, I fear."

Legolas shrugged. "Perhaps you should rest, Master Boromir. You mortals require hours of sleep every night," he said.

"I have yet to see you sleep, Master Legolas. Do Elves, in their immortality, not require rest?" Boromir asked with a frown.

"We do not sleep as Men do, but we do rest. To close our eyes is unnecessary. We enter a state called reverie, nearly like a trance, that allows us to rest, but remain aware of our surroundings."

"How fortunate for Elves," Boromir said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Legolas chose not to respond to Boromir, and instead focused his attentions back on Aragorn, who was now attempting to fall asleep. Boromir left the Elf with a bitter taste in his mouth.

       

Even Legolas seemed to be looking at him with condemnation.

Boromir worked his jaw, glaring at the beautiful Elf. Legolas only stared back. They had set camp the moment they reached the base of Mount Caradhras, and everyone was avoiding Boromir as though he had the plague.

"Do you too wish to lecture me about the One Ring and its miniature Ringbearer?" Boromir hissed.

Legolas looked unperturbed. "No one has said anything to you since Aragorn asked you to return the Ring to Frodo," he said.

"Perhaps not with words," Boromir sighed, his anger draining off at Elf's infinite supply of calm and grace.

"T'was your own doing that brought their displeasure upon you, Boromir," Legolas replied evenly.

"So I have not displeased you then?" Boromir asked in surprise.

"I am not so easy to displease. I avoid the Ring at all costs, therefore avoiding the temptation of it. I understand what you say, Boromir. I even agree with you t o a point. But I too would have struck you down should you have not given the ring back to Frodo," said Legolas.

Boromir's lips pursed. "But I-" he began before Legolas held up his hand.

"Nay, Boromir. I do not wish to hear it. We are all on edge as we approach Moria. Their displeasure will pass, mayhap even as early as tomorrow morn."

Boromir was silent for a while, observing his eight companions. Legolas had set out his belongings for the night, and was combing his long, golden hair, a movement that captivated Boromir for a time. Aragorn was telling stories to the four hobbits, while Gandalf watched in bemusement. Gimli sharpened his axe and grunted to himself. Everyone seemed quite content, and with the exception of Legolas, all ignored Boromir's presence.

Rain clouds gathered, and the hobbits huddled closer to Aragorn. Aragorn calmed them down with a few words and pats on the back. Like children comforted by their father, the four hobbits relaxed and followed the Ranger's instructions on preparing for the rain. As the entire group found somewhere dry to sleep from the impending rain, Boromir found himself huddled under a rocky outcropping with Legolas.

"What is it about Aragorn that commands so much respect and love?" Boromir suddenly asked, realizing that Legolas was watching the dark-haired Man, who was settled up under another rock alone.

"He is both a noble and great man. He is wise and compassionate, intelligent and unyielding. But what draws people to him is his humility," Legolas replied blithely.

Boromir smirked. "Are you trying to tell me I am not humble, youngest Prince of Mirkwood?" he asked with amusement.

"I was not trying to tell you anything other than what I just said, Lord of Gondor. But since you brought the subject up, I will tell you that I think you both arrogant and brash."

Boromir actually laughed. "I do not deny it. Do you have nothing good at all to say of me then?"

"I will say that you are both brave and clever."

Boromir laughed again. "You are honest to a fault, Master Elf. And as fair as any maiden I have met. Aragorn is a fool not to take advantage of your company on this trip. I doubt even his Lady could warm his bed and keep his mind from being idle as well as you surely could."

Legolas stiffened, his blank expression freezing over. "The Lady Arwen gives him everything he needs. But no Elf gives of himself as freely as the race of Men. We are not given to petty lust, and your insinuations otherwise both insult and offend me," Legolas said icily, and with that statement, he swept off into the wood.

Aragorn looked over at Boromir as the Elf departed with as reproving a look on his face as when they had confronted each other on the snowy slopes of Mount Caradhras. Boromir returned the Ranger's gaze with all the haughtiness he could muster. He then abruptly turned away and followed Legolas into the wood.

Tracking an Elf was impossible, save for perhaps someone like Aragorn. So it was pure luck that led Boromir to where Legolas sat, just as the rains finally came. As Boromir approached the small clearing, the wood was bathed with a shower of silver, as cold as the mountain they had so recently escaped.

Despite the rain, it was not hard to see that the Elf had been crying. Boromir's expression softened, and guilt wormed its way into his heart. He came to stand beside Legolas, looking down at the blond as he attempted to hide his tears. That the Elf had not fled from him meant something, but Boromir was not sure what.

"Forgive me, Legolas. I did not mean to insult or offend you. I did not know my callous words would wound you so," Boromir said gently.

Legolas wiped his face and stood up, not looking at Boromir. "You could not possibly understand what it is like to love someone who will never love you back," he said sadly.

"I thought you said that the fact that he is happy is enough for you," Boromir said carefully.

Legolas was quiet for a moment before he turned to meet Boromir's eyes. "Most of the time, it is. But, sometimes I sit and wonder. And then I ache for what I can never have," he said softly.

The rain poured down over Man and Elf, and for a moment, something inexplicable passed between them. Night blue eyes gazed deeply into darkened hazel, and Boromir was overcome by something incredibly intense. It consumed him, and burned him from the inside out.

The desire to kiss the Elf before him possessed Boromir with strength it never had before. The observation of Legolas' beauty was no longer a dormant admiration. Boromir reached out and took Legolas by his slim shoulders. Legolas blinked in surprise, and opened his mouth to speak, but Boromir leaned in and stole Legolas' words from him with a firm kiss.

Despite his experience with other men, Boromir had never kissed any man with anything other than base lust. Never had he desired to become intimate and affectionate with another male before, even one as beautiful as Legolas. His body tingled with desire, and lightning surged through Boromir's veins as his lips supped on Legolas' own soft lips. Emotions, wild, untamed, and unidentifiable, raced through his being and never before had Boromir felt as though he could die from a simple kiss. He had even closed his eyes.

Odd.

He could feel the warmth of Legolas' hand on his chest, another source of the fire within him. Their lips moved softly against the other, and it seemed time stood still and only the sound of the rain could be heard over the pounding of Boromir's heart in his ears. Had he lived this long, for just this moment? To brush his lips against Legolas'? It was though all the feelings he had buried since he had met the angry, defensive Elf in the council bubbled up the surface. He had desired Legolas, even then.

But now unwanted emotion clouded his simple desire. He knew his heart had grown complicated, despite his wishes.

The spell was soon broken by Legolas, when the Elf pushed Boromir away from him, causing the Man to stumble back in surprise. It was easy to forget the strength hidden in the slender Elven form before him. Legolas' eyes were still closed, and he was breathing rapidly. His normal, blank expression was replaced with one of pain.

"Now you seek to add insult to injury? Do you understand nothing of my people and our ways? We only give ourselves in love. Such a union between male and female would bind them in marriage. For males, it is a lifelong commitment of love. I only love one person, and you are not him," Legolas said, his voice riddled with sorrow.

Boromir swallowed, wishing he could shove away his emotions, especially the sharp pain in his heart when Legolas spoke of his love for another.

"You mean to tell me that before me stands a two-thousand-year-old virgin?" Boromir asked angrily, emotions he could not explain possessing him.

Legolas opened his eyes. "I never loved before I met him," he said quietly.

"It's all for Aragorn, is it not? Even you, though he'll never take you? Nothing left for Boromir."

Legolas stared off at the woods, and said nothing. Rain washed the tears from his face away.

"I would give you comfort. You are fair, and I desire you. I find you witty and a fine companion. And yet, you still reject me, because I am not Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Boromir sputtered, realizing too late that his tongue had fallen loose.

"I am not a pretty bauble to amuse you on this quest. And you can never replace Aragorn in my heart. I have no need of your comfort, Boromir, son of Denethor. I do not partake of acts of lust. I would only give myself out of love," Legolas whispered. He would not meet Boromir's eyes.

Boromir felt wounded. He realized then he had grown far too fond of the Elf. Legolas was just with him, and treated him the same, no matter what. He always treated Boromir with respect. And the Elf was both lovely and clever. Boromir had allowed himself to care for the Elf, and now he paid the price, for Legolas was not his, and would never be his.

Like all else in his life.

"Forgive my assumptions, Master Elf. I had thought we might be friends, and even lovers whilst we travel. I did not realize Elves enjoyed being by themselves. But now that I do realize your desire for being alone, I shall leave you as such," Boromir said softly, and left.

And as he did so, he did not see the fresh tears that poured down Legolas' face as did the rain. Nor did he hear Legolas' soft whisper as the Man returned to their camp.

"You are wrong, Boromir. No Elf enjoys being alone..."

       

Legolas was not doing so well in the Mines of Moria.

The beautiful blond was pale, even for an Elf. His long, luxurious hair seemed limp and dull, and his eyes were as wide as they could go. The Elf's walk lacked its normal grace, and he spoke even less than he did before, to all save Aragorn. He kept his mouth in a tight line and jumped at even the slightest of noises. It seemed Legolas Greenleaf was not well-suited for underground life.

They were only half a day away from the Great Hall of Moria, but Gandalf had insisted they make camp for the night. The hobbits were close to passing out from exhaustion. As tired as Boromir was, he was grateful for Gandalf's insistence. Aragorn had argued for a while with the wizard, on behalf of Legolas, but even he gave in. Every night that they spent in Moria was torture for the Elf, that much was visible.

Despite their encounter in the rain, Legolas treated Boromir no different. As always, Legolas' impartial respect for all living beings overcame even the possibility of awkwardness between them. And strangely, Legolas' behavior only solidified the gnawing at Boromir's heart. He feared he had gone too far, and let too much of himself go. Emotions of this intensity for another male were dangerous, just as was letting himself feel for someone whose heart was already given away.

Legolas wandered a bit off from camp, separating himself, even more than usual. He sat just at the edge of the light Gandalf's staff gave out, hidden behind rocks. But this time, Aragorn followed him. And Boromir followed Aragorn at a distance, both curiosity and envy possessing him.

He was as silent as he could be, but Boromir realized both Aragorn and Legolas were far too distracted to hear his approach in any case. The sandy-haired Man hid behind a rock, peering over it as Aragorn approached Legolas. The Elf was sitting on a fallen pillar of some sort, his golden hair falling across his face.

"Legolas, my friend, are you going to be all right?" Aragorn asked gently, coming to a stop right beside the Elf and placing a hand on Legolas' shoulder.

Legolas turned his face, his hair spilled across half his face and only one eye peered out from beneath it. "I will be fine, Aragorn," he said, his voice falling flat. The music was lacking from it.

"I have never seen you like this," Aragorn whispered, concern etched into his features as his fingers brushed away the strands of Legolas' hair, as though they were lovers. Boromir wondered if Aragorn knew of Legolas' feelings after all.

"There is no sun, no stars, no sky. No trees, or birds, or flowers. I feel like I am dying, Aragorn. I do not know how to cope with this place of death and stone," Legolas admitted, grabbing Aragorn's hand and pressing the fingers to his lips.

Aragorn seemed drawn into the touch for just a moment before he abruptly pulled away, his expression seeming torn. "Legolas..." he breathed, taking a step back from the Elf. Boromir wondered what had passed between them.

"Forgive me, Aragorn. I only wished to seek comfort in an embrace. I meant no offense," Legolas said so softly that Boromir's ears strained to hear.

"I...understand. But I cannot-"

"I know. Go then."

Aragorn swallowed and stared at sorrowful Elf before him. "I could-" he began before Legolas cut him off.

"Go," the Elf said dully, but with power. Aragorn returned to camp without another word.

The expression of pain, sorrow, and loneliness of Legolas' features tore at Boromir's heart. The Man had spent many years without ever having his heart touched, but the simplest of expressions from Legolas could make him feel things he could not fully understand yet.

And that was why he left his rock behind and dropped down beside Legolas, saying nothing. Legolas did not look over at him, nor did he speak. But he did not turn Boromir away, either.

Boromir said nothing, and impulse possessed him. He put his arms around the Elf, causing Legolas to stiffen in alarm and surprise. "Relax. I swear I will not harm you, nor shall I attempt to seduce you. I said I would give you comfort, Legolas. If it is the comfort of an embrace you seek, I can deliver," he whispered.

Legolas said nothing, but Boromir could feel the Elf's gratitude. Legolas turned and embraced Boromir as well, burying his face in Boromir's shoulder. Boromir had never felt so...happy.

They stayed like that the rest of the night, even when Boromir drifted off into sleep.

       

Boromir turned his face from Legolas when the Elf approached him after Aragorn left.

They were in Lothlorien, and Boromir could feel the Elf witch in the back of his mind. Sleep would not visit him, for her words of warning mixed with his growing desire to possess the One Ring. Now, more than ever, he wanted to take it. For if even a creature like Gandalf fell, what chance did his people have?

Legolas quietly sat beside Boromir, his face still bearing the grief of the loss of Gandalf. He had joined the other Elves in a mourning song, and Boromir nearly thought that Legolas would not join them that night.

"I did not know."

Boromir looked sharply over at Legolas. That the Elf sought him was unusual, to say the least.

"Know what?" Boromir asked wearily.

"Why. I expect we all have a why. Why we would want to use the Ring. Your reason is not so wrong, Boromir," Legolas said softly.

Boromir looked away. He had made his peace with Aragorn, and he had even emptied out his heart before the Ranger. Must he show his weakness before Legolas as well?

"I can understand why you love him. He is a great man. I will never measure up to him," Boromir said in frustration. Everything was so much easier when he could hate Aragorn properly.

"Why do you keep trying? You are not him."

Boromir put a hand on Legolas' cheek, his emotions choking him. "Because, if I did, mayhap you would care for me," he said softly.

Legolas turned fully to gaze into Boromir's eyes. "But I do care for you," he whispered.

Boromir closed his eyes. "As you would one of the hobbits. Do not offer me false hope, Legolas. Now, please leave me be. I do not think I can sleep, but perhaps I can rest," he sighed.

"Why do you wish me to see you as Aragorn? Why do you seek me out?" Legolas asked, not moving.

Boromir opened his eyes and stared angrily into Legolas'. "Can you not guess, Legolas?" he asked.

Legolas fell silent and stared at his hands. Boromir sighed again after a moment.

"Let me rest, Legolas," Boromir finally said, breaking their silence. He was weary and he was afraid.

Legolas gently touched Boromir's shoulder suddenly and the Man felt Legolas' breath on his ear. "I could...give you comfort and pleasure, Boromir," he whispered.

Boromir's brows furrowed and he stared at Legolas, his own hand reaching up of its own accord to cup Legolas' cheek.

"I would give myself to you this night, if you still desire me," Legolas whispered.

"I thought you said Elves were not given to lust, Legolas," Boromir whispered back.

"This is not an act of lust," Legolas breathed, his face drawing nearer to Boromir's. Boromir wondered what desperation had driven the Elf to him.

He had wanted this. But yet, Boromir's heart forced him to cup Legolas' smooth face in his hands. "Tell me, Legolas, is this truly what you wish? For you and I to share a night?" he whispered.

Legolas wrapped a hand around Boromir's hand and smiled softly. "Mayhap more, Boromir. I think that perhaps we both tire of our own company, and wish for companionship," he replied.

Boromir smiled and released Legolas' face, meeting the Elf's questing lips with hunger. Never had he so desired to bed anyone. Legolas was right, this was no act of lust. Something grew in Boromir, and for the night, it countered the ache in his heart.

The feel of Legolas' smooth skin under his hands was like heaven, and Boromir had never known such bliss. Legolas was innocent, but strangely experienced, as if he instinctively knew what to do. Their bodies twined, their lips devoured each other, and when they joined, Boromir knew that he would never desire anyone other than Legolas.

Even lost in ecstasy, his body tangled with the slim Elf's, a darkened cloud settled over Boromir's heart. For he wished Legolas to love him, as the Elf loved Aragorn. He had never wanted anything more than the Elf's love.

And as Legolas entered his reverie, and Boromir slept, the Man dreamt that the One Ring could fulfill all his desires...

       

He had been wrong. But in the end, Boromir recanted his mistake, and died protecting the innocent. He died a hero. And in his own way, Boromir surpassed even Aragorn, for he had repented his mistakes, and overcome his desires. He sacrificed everything for redemption.

And Legolas' heart felt as thought it had shattered.

Aragorn gently placed Boromir's body in the boat, arranging the handsome Man's belongings with care. Gimli stood to the side, his head bowed in sorrow. Legolas' expression was blank and frozen, but his heart bled all the same.

"Did he not...say anything of me before he died?" Legolas asked softly. He had thought, whilst they made love in Lothlorien, that perhaps he and Boromir could become lovers. And now, Boromir was gone.

"Nay, Legolas," Aragorn said gently, and put hand on Legolas' shoulder.

Legolas stepped away from Aragorn and knelt beside the boat in which Boromir‘s body lay. He thought Boromir had loved him. He thought they could be together. He thought he wouldn't be alone anymore.

He had thought wrong.

Legolas bowed his head, almost angry at Boromir for dying. Why? Why when they had just found each other? Why had Boromir let his desire for the Ring consume him? Why had he so recklessly abandoned himself to protect Merry and Pippin? Did he not think Legolas would suffer from his parting?

Legolas placed a soft kiss on Boromir's lips, caring not what Aragorn thought he knew or didn't know. But as he did, his hand brushed against Boromir's tunic, and a crumpled, bloody piece of parchment fell out.

It was torn from a journal, but neatly folded, as if Boromir had wished to hide it contents, but couldn‘t bring himself to throw it away. Legolas sat back on his haunches and opened the paper, wondering what it said.

Even as we set from Lothlorien, my heart feels as though it would burst. I love him. I love Legolas. But he does not love me. It tears me apart to know his heart lies with Aragorn, but I cannot fault him for it. But my thoughts still turn to the Ring. It calls to me, it whispers to me. It tells me how much Legolas would love me if I had it. It tells me how I can save Gondor. I do not know how much longer I can resist it...

Legolas closed his eyes, folding the paper and tucking it away amongst his belongings. Boromir had loved him. And what had ultimately led to Boromir's fate was his love for Legolas. A love he believed was not returned.

Legolas cursed himself for not saying that he had come to love Boromir as well. For perhaps, if he had confessed his emotions at Lothlorien, Boromir would not be dead.

Aragorn pushed the boat that carried Boromir into the river, taking the sandy-haired Man's bracers as a symbol of respect. Legolas remained where he knelt, his head bowed, the parchment clutched firmly in his hand.

"Legolas...?" Aragorn asked softly, concerned.

"I finally found something I thought I would never have. But then I lost it over the waterfall," Legolas whispered.

Aragorn bowed his head in sympathy and placed Boromir's bracers on his arms.

Vanwa i nenlantane.

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