Title: From Rivendell to Rauros
(WIP 11/? PG-13 more talk than action)
By: Ithiliana
Section Rating Above.
Overall: G at start and in places but overall R, possibly NC-17 eventually (much much later but just in case-I don't quite trust Aragorn and Boromir...)
Pairings: Frodo/Faramir, Boromir/Aragorn, Pippin/Merry (implied)

Feedback: Always appreciated!

Disclaimer: Original characters and storyline belong to the Tolkien estate. This story is fan fiction, written with no intention to trespass on copyright, and I make no money off it at all.

Author's Notes: Major premise: Faramir has another dream and follows Boromir in secret, forcing him to take Faramir along on journey to Imladris. Minor premise: Sam is not along on Quest, having married Rosie and started family back in the Shire before action begins.

This AU combines book and movieverse elements, adds water, and stirs. The dates in the text, months and years, are drawn from Tolkien's Chronology in The Appendix published in Return of the King.



FROM RIVENDELL TO RAUROS

December 25-January 13, 3018: The Company leaves Rivendell, travels through Hollin, attempts Caradhras but are defeated by his malice and have to turn back and try the road through Moria after defeating the Watcher at the Gate and opening the doors by means of the secret word.

January 13-14, 3018

Frodo followed Gandalf into the room at the top of a long flight of stairs, careful to keep behind him as Gandalf called more light from his staff. Pippin and Merry tried to press forward, but Aragorn restrained them.

"I think we can safely sleep here," Gandalf said. "At least more safely than on the open stairs. But build no fire, and keep quiet. And stay out of the center of the room. Look!" he pointed at the large hole surrounded by broken chains and stone. "A well. But the cover has rotted. Take care."

Frodo moved aside as the rest of the Fellowship crowded into the room. He was glad to be away from the open stair and the currents of air that chilled him as they climbed. He wanted rest, and not to be forever imagining soft footsteps following him in the dark. And to be warm. He stood shivering inside the door as the others made as comfortable a spot as they could with blankets and cloaks in one corner of the room.

When Pippin called him over to eat, Frodo sat next to him and ate what he could of the cold food. But it was hard to force down.

Faramir came to sit and eat but paused beside Frodo, knelt, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Frodo," he said, "You're shaking. And soaked."

Frodo looked up. When the creature in the water had seized him, he had been pulled high into the air. His body still ached. Then the efforts Faramir, Aragorn, and Boromir had made to rescue him had left him wet although not as soaked as they were. The climbing they had done afterwards might have warmed him up but for the cold dankness that spread throughout Moria.

"I'm all right," he said. "I can wrap up and go to sleep. My clothes will dry."

"No," Faramir said. "You must change. Mithrandir, help me."

Gandalf came over, felt Frodo's head and back. "I agree, Faramir. Frodo, get into some dry clothing, and wrap up. I hadn't realized you got drenched earlier. I don't want the cold of the Mines to make you ill."

Frodo did not wish to reveal the mithril shirt Bilbo had given him to the others and did not see how he could change without doing so.

"Faramir, Aragorn, and Boromir fought in the water," Frodo pointed out. "You're not ordering them to change." To prove his point, he laid his hand on Faramir's leg, feeling the dampness of his leggings.

"They are trained and used to fighting, marching, and surviving in even worse conditions," Gandalf aimed one of his most ferocious frowns at Frodo.

"I'm sure I'll be fine." Frodo was shivering and uncomfortable but resisted being treated like a child.

Faramir interrupted the argument, saying, "I will change as well--come, Frodo." Faramir went to the corner of the room where the packs were piled.

Gandalf stopped frowning, and said. "Excellent. And I think we all could use some miruvor. Elrond gave me a flask for our journey. Here, Frodo, you first."

Frodo took the flask and sipped the fragrant liquor. As before, the mouthful sent a wave of warmth and strength through his body. He capped the leather flask and handed it back to Gandalf.

Gandalf said, "Since we dare not build a fire, I suggest that bundling together and sharing blankets might be the best way to sleep warmly while we are in the Mines. I will keep watch for tonight. The rest of you need uninterrupted sleep after that horror at the Gate."

He smiled at Frodo, then went to give the others a sip of miruvor.

Frodo looked after him, his mouth open. What had Gandalf just done? He looked over at Faramir who was standing by their packs. Faramir shrugged, then smiled wryly and turned to pull out dry clothing. Frodo stood and crossed the room to join him, ignoring Merry and Pippin's discussion about who got to drink the cordial first.

Faramir had draped their dry clothes over a pack and stood a little back to allow Frodo to change first. Frodo turned his back to the others. Quickly, he slipped off his coat, vest, and trousers, but not his shirt, and pulled dry trousers on.

"Frodo, your shirt," Faramir said in a low voice, laying his hand on Frodo's back. Frodo stiffened in dismay, and Faramir pulled his hand back.

"What is it?"

Frodo glanced around, seeing that the others were talking or eating, paying no attention to him or Faramir. "A mail shirt," Frodo whispered. "Bilbo gave it to me. He thought I should wear it secretly."

"A good idea. Here." Faramir pulled off his tunic and stood behind Frodo, shielding him from most of the others. "But you must have a dry shirt. Hurry."

Frodo looked around, checking to make sure nobody could see him, pulled off his shirt, and tugged on the dry one, then donned the vest and coat.

Faramir stripped and dressed with no hurry or concern for anyone who might be watching. Frodo watched, trying to control his breathing. Faramir then began cleaning and sharpening his sword.

They had not been together since Rivendell. Frodo was afraid of Boromir's response. Yet even if his fear had not been strong, the long night marches, meagre food, and constant cold meant that all Frodo had energy to do when they stopped for a rest at dawn was to eat, then roll up in his blanket and cloak and fall into exhausted sleep.

Faramir took turns with the other Men, Legolas and Gimli standing guard. None of them would allow the hobbits to stand guard, but even so, Frodo had to drag himself from the hard ground when called for daymeal. He could hardly believe he and the others had complained about the tree roots keeping them from sleeping on their first night after leaving Bag End. He now felt he could have slept on a bed of rocks, especially if they were warm.

But now Gandalf had given them the chance to at least sleep together this night.

Frodo shivered but not from the cold.

The others were settling down in various corners of the room. Gandalf was sitting near the door, the light from his staff dimmed enough to let them sleep but enough to hold back the endless dark of Moria. Legolas and Gimli both claimed not to feel the cold, and Legolas joined Gandalf near the door to the stairs since Elves did not sleep as Men and Hobbits did. Gimli took his blanket and rolled up in it to sleep in another corner. Deep snores soon resounded through the room.

Merry and Pippin, claiming Gandalf's blanket as well as their own, since, as Merry pointed out, he intended to watch the whole night, snuggled in together, laughing.

Despite Gandalf's words, Frodo noticed that both Aragorn and Boromir had taken the chance to change into dry clothes. They were sitting next to each other in the same corner to tend to their swords.

"You heard what Mithrandir said," Faramir said, smiling at Frodo. "Lie down here."

Frodo saw that Faramir had put one of the blankets on the floor and held the other one. He had spread their wet clothing and cloaks over the floor and packs to dry as much as possible overnight. His sword was leaning against the wall, close to hand.

Faramir gestured for Frodo to lie down on the blanket, then lay down behind him. Faramir slid one arm under Frodo's head and pulled him close him, lying spooned together, his other arm over Frodo.

Frodo began to feel warm for the first time since they had left Rivendell. He drifted off to sleep more easily than he'd expected, held in Faramir's arms, his last sight Gandalf sitting in a pool of dim light, facing the door, his head wreathed in smoke.

* * * * * * *

Boromir sat next to Aragorn, keeping his eyes firmly on his own blade as he worked. The fight at the Doors of Moria had been brief, but he had enjoyed it. To have a clear enemy to attack felt good after the months of debates and travel. He wished they could have avoided entering Moria. To leave the clean air and daylight of Middle-earth for this black hole in the ground galled him. He was not at all sure he trusted Mithrandir to guide them safely through.

But so far he seemed to know what he was doing, and it would be good to get a full night's sleep. Finishing, Boromir sheathed his sword and leaned it against the wall close at hand. He watched the others settling down for the night.

Sharing blankets certainly made sense. He had done it himself on more than one campaign. Too conscious of Aragorn's warmth at his side, the scent of his drying hair, Boromir thought of what else might be shared between men fighting together, aware that the next day could bring their deaths or celebrating having survived that day's battle, the body urgent to prove to itself it lived.

Boromir could not tell if he hoped or feared the prospect of what he was imagining.

Trying to distract himself, he looked around the room. Legolas and Gandalf were talking in low voices, both facing the door. The light was dim, but most of the rest of the Fellowship seemed to be sleeping. Faramir….Boromir stiffened as he saw Faramir wrapped around Frodo. Two people might sleep side by side for warmth, but Boromir was convinced that what he now saw for the first time showed more than fellowship.

Boromir stood, picking up his blanket and moved down the wall to sleep. He was a little closer to Faramir and Frodo sleeping as he settled himself. He watched for a while, long enough to see Frodo turn in Faramir's arms, burrow into his chest, and murmur something.

Boromir shut his eyes, fighting to keep his anger down, telling himself it was anger at Faramir's recklessness and nothing more.

* * * * * * *

Frodo woke slowly but kept his eyes closed, luxuriating in being warm and feeling Faramir breathing underneath him.

When Frodo finally opened his eyes to a room well-lit by the light from Gandalf's staff, he found himself looking at a large pair of boots. Looking upward, he saw a chain mail shirt, the red of an undertunic, and, finally, Boromir's face. Boromir was frowning down at them, his arms crossed.

Frodo realized that during the night he and Faramir had shifted into one of their favorite sleeping positions. Frodo was now lying on top of Faramir, head on his shoulder, draped over his chest and belly, with Faramir's arm around him. Frodo tensed, fearful.

Faramir woke, immediately alert as always. "Brother," he greeted Boromir.

Boromir said nothing.

Frodo rolled off Faramir and stood aside as Faramir tossed the blankets aside and stood, forcing Boromir to fall back a pace. Faramir shifted, standing between Boromir and Frodo.

For a moment, nobody spoke. Frodo watched the two brothers stare at each other, so alike and yet so different, and wondered what would happen to the Fellowship if they fought.

"Time to eat." Boromir turned and joined the others.

Frodo saw Faramir relax. Faramir turned and began to roll up their blankets. Frodo looked at him, but Faramir shook his head and stowed the blankets away.

Looking across the room, Frodo saw Merry and Pippin watching them, so interested in what was happening that their mouths hung open and they were holding uneaten food. Merry elbowed Pippin, tilting his head toward Boromir who was talking to Aragorn.

Frodo turned away and began to fold his damp clothes to pack. He suspected that more of the Fellowship than Gandalf was now aware of his relationship with Faramir.

* * * * * * *

Gandalf was sitting in front of three doors that branched out from the passage they were in, trying to decide which door would be the best way. The rest of the Company was taking the opportunity to rest and, in some cases, to enjoy a pipe.

Frodo was sitting alone, at the lowest point of the stairs, where the light from Gandalf's staff would not affect his vision, gazing back down the long way they had climbed, trying to discern if anything moved in the darkness. Since they had entered Moria, he had realized he could see in the dark better than his companions, except for Gandalf and Legolas, and he could hear more as well. All his senses seemed heightened since he had been wounded at Weathertop and healed in Rivendell.

And he was sure that he had been hearing soft footfalls pattering behind them since they began climbing.

Pippin and Merry appeared, dropping down to sit on the stairs, one on either side of him. They were both smoking, and Merry held out his tobacco bag in invitation. Frodo shook his head. He no longer found smoking pipeweed pleasant, and although he regretted the loss of a companionable smoke with friends, the harsh scent and taste sickened him.

They sat in silence a moment, then Pippin elbowed him in the ribs.

"So now we know," he said.

"What?" Frodo asked, dragging his eyes away from the stairs.

"Whose bed you were in back in Rivendell," Merry said from the other side. "Unless you've been bed hopping, and I don't think that's likely. Pippin, yes. You, no."

"Not at all likely," Pippin said. "I've been trying to get him to hop around with me for years with no luck."

Frodo wondered if there was any use denying it. He opened his mouth to speak, but--

"Don't try to deny it, cousin," Merry said. "Not after this morning."

"Yes, we noticed you looked much warmer," Pippin said.

"And happier."

"Faramir too."

"Not Boromir," Merry said, laughing.

Frodo sighed. He knew Merry and Pippin were only teasing him. He just hoped that Boromir wasn't able to hear them from where he was sitting, further up the stairs, next to Aragorn.

"All right," he said quietly. "It's true. Keep your voices down, please."

Pippin looked ostentatiously over his shoulder, then wiggled closer to Frodo and whispered loudly in his ear. "You saw Boromir this morning. He obviously knows."

"Yes, Pippin," Frodo said quietly. "I know he knows. But I don't want him to hear us talking."

Merry leaned forward, spoke in a low voice as well. "All right, but you have to talk."

"About what?"

"About him," Pippin poked Frodo again. "One of the Big Folk. I can't believe it. How could you?"

Frodo frowned at Pippin, dismayed. Was this what he and Faramir had feared, their own people disapproving of a relationship because it was between a Hobbit and a Man? He had thought Pippin liked the men, especially Boromir. "'How could I,'" he repeated. "What do you mean?"

Pippin sputtered a moment. "He's, isn't he, how do, well, he's one of the Big Folk, isn't he? Just how big is he? Doesn't it hurt? What do you do? What can you do?"

Frodo almost laughed aloud in relief. He should have known better.

Merry sighed. "Pippin, I told you not to say that. The Big Folk aren't any bigger than the Elves, and…"

"How do you know?" Pippin said. "The Elves are taller than Men, right enough, but that doesn't mean their prumph..."

Frodo had clapped his hand across Pippin's mouth. Carelessly, he'd been speaking in a normal tone, and Frodo knew that sound would travel up the stairs. "Stop it," he hissed. "Quiet."

Pippin licked the palm of his hand, and Frodo pulled away, wiping it on his cloak.

"If you want me to talk, you're going to have to be quiet," he pointed out.

"Yes, Pippin," Merry said, then gestured at Frodo to start.

Frodo had thought Merry and Pippin would figure things out eventually and had even tried to plan what he would say. But somehow that had all gone out of his mind. He decided just to start. "We started talking in Rivendell," he said, but was interrupted.

"But when did you start-OUCH," Pippin said as Merry leaned over and reached in front of Frodo and poked him in the chest, hard.

"In Rivendell," Frodo said patiently. "He's different from anyone I've ever know, but somehow we seem to be alike in many ways." Seeing Pippin frown, he continued. "Yes, Pippin, he's larger than a hobbit, but…" Frodo hesitated, then went on, "the difference in length is greater than the difference in girth."

"Like our swords," Pippin snickered.

Merry looked interested but did not speak.

Frodo shook his head, exasperated. "And he and I do the same sort of things I've done with Sam. It just takes some practice and care."

Frodo stopped there. He'd never enjoyed talking about the details of his relationships with other hobbits which, again, had set him apart from his friends. Pippin especially seemed to have more fun talking about sex, either before or after, than he did having it.

"THAT sounds interesting," Pippin said. "Maybe I need to see what this is all about. I don't suppose.."

"No," Frodo said firmly. "Not with Faramir."

Pippin pouted. "You'd never share Sam either. Very selfish of you, Frodo. Well, that leaves me two choices. Boromir or Aragorn. Hmmm…."

Merry frowned. "What makes you think they'd even be interested in you?"

Frodo stopped listening to the two as they discussed which of the men might be interested in, or, alternatively interesting to, each of his cousins. He looked down the stairs again, straining to see as far as he could. A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he could almost see something, someone, slither behind one of the pillars of rock several turns of the stair below. He stiffened, interrupted the argument.

"I have to talk to Gandalf," he said. Ignoring them, he rose to his feet and climbed up to tell Gandalf that he had just seen someone following them. And that he didn't think it was an orc. He was afraid that he knew who it must be.