To Capture the Heart of a Warrior

Chapter twenty-five: Farewell to Gondor





Boromir sat with Pippin in his lap. He was brushing Pippin’s hair, relishing the way the soft curls felt, admiring the way the morning sun caught in the golden-brown locks. Yet another important occasion to attend today, and Boromir wanted his Pippin to look his best. There had been the coronation of the king, Faramir’s wedding and now Aragorn’s wedding, at which Boromir would stand at the side of the king. Pippin was yet again in uniform, and Boromir loved how it looked on him, but…

“As wonderful as you look in that uniform, poppet, I miss your halfling’s garb.” Boromir said. “I find I miss my little Shireling. I’ll be glad when all this is over.”

“I know. I love your city, Boromir, but I’m ready to go home. I miss the Shire.” Pippin said. “Oh, and you shall have to get used to calling us hobbits, not halflings. We call ourselves ‘hobbits,’ and since you are going to be among us, you should call us by the name we give ourselves.”

“I shall try to do better, poppet. I’m sure you miss your home, sweet one. I can scarcely wait to see it. I hope your family takes to me.”

“Well, they had better, or I’ll just come back here with you. I love my home, acushla, but I have no intentions of ever doing without you again.”

“Be still, I’m almost done.” Boromir put the finishing touches on Pippin’s grooming by finger-combing a few unruly curls into place. He kissed the crown of curls, then put Pippin on his feet and completed the task by tugging the uniform here and there and brushing the uniform with his hands, smoothing it out. “Now, then. You look splendid.”

“So do you.” Pippin said, brushing a lock of hair out of Boromir’s eyes. “My beautiful Boromir.” Pippin said. “There has never been a more handsome man in all of Middle Earth.” Pippin pulled Boromir’s face to him and gave him a brief, grasping little peck on the lips. “Are we ready? Is it time?”

“Yes, it is. I wish it were not. Now I have you looking so wonderful, I want nothing more than to undress you and make love to you.”

“I know, I feel the same way.” Pippin sighed. “We had better go now.”

He took Boromir’s hand and they walked together down the long halls. It was going to be a long day. The ceremony was quite beautiful, but a bit long. This was, of course, expected. After all, this was the wedding of the king to Arwen, daughter of a great Lord. The wedding feast was copious and delicious, much to the delight of all the hobbits. Pippin and the other hobbits sat beside Boromir, and Pippin watched them talking, noting that there was a special bond between Boromir, Frodo and Sam. He supposed this was only to be expected. The three had each had their brush with the evil of the ring. He had worried about how things might go between them. He had worried that Boromir would be resented, even hated, but the common sense of hobbits had shone forth, and all his fears had been for naught. The evening wore on into night and after much merriment and much ale, the celebration at last ended and little by little the guests had wandered off to bed.

Back in Boromir’s chambers, Pippin once more sat in Boromir’s lap as Boromir undressed his Little One, then himself. They curled up together in the big bed, gazing into each other’s eyes. The ceremony had put a romantic mood into the both of them, and soon the cuddling turned to caressing and kissing.

“My sweet little poppet,” Boromir murmured. “How far we have come. When I first met you, how I wanted you! How I loved you, right from the very first. I was terrified, I tell you. I wanted you so, and I was so afraid, so uncertain. My Little Teacher has taught me well. Are you pleased with your pupil?”

“More than pleased,” Pippin said. He tipped his head back, giving Boromir the silent command he had grown used to but which seemed forever new and fresh: kiss me, now! Boromir happily obeyed.

“Ah, poppet, how you have changed me. You have tamed me, you know. Once upon a time, no one and nothing had a claim on my heart save Faramir and Gondor. Now I need only know what you wish, and I’m yours to do with as you please.”

“You have changed me, too. I thought I would never love again, yet you made me love you, and not just love you, but love you more than I have ever loved another. I cannot do without you, now. Once, I thought I would spend the rest of my life alone.” Tears of joy stood in Pippin’s startlingly green eyes.

Boromir reflected that he had died once for his poppet and dear, sweet little Merry, and he would gladly die for them again, if need be. But something told him this would not be the case. His city was safe and in good hands. His brother would never suffer at the hands of their father again. The ring was destroyed, the Enemy crushed, and now he could see, for the first time in his life, the possibility of actually having a happy life. Yes, he owed much to this little bundle of perfection that clung so sweetly to him. He gathered the little body tenderly to him, enjoying the soft skin beneath his hands, the sweet mouth that seemed to somehow always taste of an apple. Well, that and pipeweed. He kissed Pippin again, softly and tenderly. The little bow mouth pried his lips apart and invited Boromir’s tongue to explore the small mouth. Again, Boromir happily obeyed.

Faramir’s rooms were still next to Boromir’s, and they could faintly hear Faramir and Eowyn. Apparently the ceremony had put that couple, too, in a romantic mood, for they could now hear Eowyn’s soft cries of passion.

“Do you miss being with women, acushla?” Pippin asked.

“Women are…different, poppet. Perhaps you should have tried love with a lass? Then you would know the difference.”

“No, no, I think not. Although…”

“Although, what?”

“There was this one lass. Absolutely beautiful, she was. Her name is Diamond. Nothing ever happened, though. I just didn’t want her enough, I suppose. It was the lads that caught my eye, and then Men. After I had a Man, it was a bit hard to go back to hobbits.” Pippin said. “But you haven’t answered my question. Do you miss being with women?”

“Well, they are very lovely, and I always did like my ladies. But I find that I can think only of you, now. Why? Do you fear I will lose interest in you, and go back to my former tastes?”

“I confess the thought has entered my mind, from time to time.”

“Pippin, put those thoughts away. I tortured myself to near illness with thoughts of you. I feared we would never have a chance together. I made a promise, remember? I swore to you that I would love no other, remember? As far as I’m concerned, we were wed on that day, with that oath. Nay, even before that, I knew. I knew I would never be happy unless I had you as my own; my own Little Teacher, my poppet, my sweet little halfling. Sorry, hobbit, not halfling.”

Pippin grinned and threw his arms around Boromir’s neck. He kissed Boromir’s face, then his mouth. Boromir returned the kiss, feeling the heat in his body rise, his desire beginning to burn as it always did with his Little One. He let his hands wander over the small body. He rolled over on his back so Pippin lay atop him, and Pippin, as always, thought of the large, warm, firm body beneath him as a princely bed. Pippin slid down Boromir’s body, leaving a trail of tingly little hobbit-kisses. When he curled up between Boromir’s thighs, grasping Boromir’s shaft in both hands, he looked up the length of Boromir’s body to make sure he was being watched. His little tongue licked out, ticklingly, teasingly. It made Boromir inhale with a hiss. He opened his mouth and took Boromir inside, and now he could hear Boromir moan, echoing the moans of Faramir in the next room.

He took his time, drawing out this feast as long as Boromir could bear it. When he was done, he used his little mouth to once more arouse his Man, then slid back up Boromir’s body. Boromir rolled him over onto his back and applied his mouth to Pippin’s nipples, further arousing his Little One before kissing his way down to Pippin’s navel, which Boromir always seemed to love kissing and tonguing. Then he swallowed Pippin’s shaft, loving how easily he could take Pippin into his mouth entirely. When Pippin was on the edge of climax, he drew his mouth away, and taking proper preparations, he mounted his little lover carefully, gently, tenderly.

It was a long, leisurely and tender session of lovemaking. Apparently Faramir and Eowyn were in the same mood, for soon Pippin’s moans and whimpers blended with Eowyn’s own moans and whimpers. The sounds blended between the rooms. Boromir was certain his brother and his brother’s bride could just as easily hear Pippin and himself. The passion of the one couple seemed to blend with the passion of the other until from both rooms the sounds of lovers reaching the pinnacle of passion at the same time could be heard.

When morning came the four broke their fast together, and the brothers were amused at the pretty blushes on the cheeks of both Eowyn and Pippin. The conversation soon took a serious turn, however. It was time to make plans for Boromir to leave with Pippin and the other hobbits. It was time to say farewell to Gondor.

To Be Continued