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The road down from Caradhras was just as miserable as the road through had been, all packed snow and biting wind that had threatened to send them tumbling over the ledges. Only a small relief could be found in the pre-worn trail that led them back to the beginning of the road, as the winds became less harsh and they didn't have to plough their way through mountains of untouched ice. Legolas, sure-footed and light upon the top of the snow, had run ahead to confirm that their path hadn't been lost, and if not for the fact that it would have left their faces frozen in sheets of ice the group might have cried in relief. Spurred on by the notion of finding relief from the cold, the men had shared the weight of the Hobbits to hurry down the mountain.
Aragorn cursed their lack of foresight as he cradled the young Ringbearer to his chest, rubbing his arms to coax the blood flow back into them. As soon as they had found a relatively safe place to set up camp, Gimli had been quick to fetch some wood for their fire. Until then, they huddled around what warmth Gandalf could provide them with his magic. With the help of magic, it had taken them no time to get a roaring blaze going, and everyone had taken up a spot to dry themselves off.
Whatever good luck they still had shined on them, as for being buried so deep within the bags there were a few sets of clothes that had not gotten damp from the snow. It gave the party some relief to be out of their wet clothes and in dry ones, warming their limbs as their clothes hung nearby.
Though cold himself, Aragorn could shove his own worry aside and focus on his less adapted companions. His time as a Ranger had left him in worse states than he was now, and a call of his alias had him searching his mind for what medical knowledge he had. The Hobbits had come to him, of course, as soon as they were all ready to sit around the fire. He had helped them dry their hair and work the feeling back into their limbs enough that they could help everyone get camp ready for the fast approaching nightfall. Merry and Pippin, massaging each other's hands and fingers until the sting of returning blood flow had them hopping around, were busy helping Sam prepare their supper. Sam had been fast to recover as well, moreso his need to help his friend than his own warmth motivated him though.
The ranger frowned as he pondered on this, rubbing Frodo's ankles as the halfling shook in his arms, busy with rubbing his own hands together to spark some warmth. The Ringbearer had tried to trudge on through the snow by himself as long as possible behind Gimli, keeping his head down in the blasting winds. It wasn't until he couldn't even stumble on his own two feet that he finally let Aragorn carry him. His stubbornness had left his poor feet partially frozen even down off the mountain, and Aragorn wondered how deep this stubbornness stretched in his life. If he could endure physical pain for so long on top of what the Ring already threw at him…
Nevermind that , he chided himself as he wrapped the Hobbit's feet in a damp cloth that had been warmed over the fire. That was something he could ponder later, when he had the opportunity to seek council in his older and wiser companions. For now, he could push that aside and focus on his ally. Frodo had cried out weakly when his feet were wrapped, more out of shock than pain, but the grimace that pulled at his face was promising. If it hurt, that meant the feeling was returning.
Sure enough, as he coaxed the muscles to relax he felt his toes twitch. Frodo gave a soft laugh of wonderment, trying to flex his extremities through the numbing feeling of static in his limbs. Aragorn patted his shoulder, encouraging him to keep the limbs moving as he sat back to glance out over the mountain.
It would take another day or two before they could reach the doors to the Halls of Moira, and he couldn't help but feel something was off. After being within forests and mountains for so long, perhaps it was just the fact that their camp was much closer to the ground now that had him on edge. Or perhaps his nomadic life had left him paranoid about enemies at every turn, and his mind could not settle with the possibility of danger now that he had the halflings to guide. All good possibilities, but none that would account for how the feeling grew the closer they approached the Dwarven halls.
" Egol na-neitha ?" Legolas questioned him from the edge of the woods. Having been the least covered in snow out of the group, he had recovered quickly and taken up the ranger's usual job of hunting for dinner so he could help the halflings instead. Returning with an armful of herbs for the soup Sam was finishing, he lingered at the edge of the fire, ready to run if needed.
Shaking his head, Aragorn motioned for him to join the group. " Alnad, mellon nín, " he reassured the elf, "No reason for both of us to be on edge." Nodding, Legolas set his find down and returned to his perch on a rock nearby. Though the brief Elvish had roused Gandalf from his musings, he settled back in with his pipe as the reassurance came.
By the time supper was passed around, Frodo had regained full control of his limbs again, thanking him for the help as he took his own seat by the fire. Everyone partook in the meal that night, even Legolas passing on his usual small ration of lembas bread to enjoy the extra warmth of the soup.
Though no part of their journey could be referred to as jovial, it was in these small moments of peace that their bonds grew. Samwise had cooked up the meat separately with the last of the potatoes stored in his bag, and the younger two were arguing over who got the last helping. Across the fire Gimli was sharpening his axe with great care, Legolas leaning over him to ask questions as he feathered more arrows. Gandalf was smoking his pipe lazily, offering it to Merry as everyone settled in for the night. Curiously though, he did not hear any laughter or storytelling from across the fire.
Across from him sat Boromir, much closer to the fire than usual as he stared into the licking flames. Usually by this time of night he and Gimli were trading stories to feed Merry and Pippin's curiosity, or he would carve a piece of wood aimlessly until he was happy with the result, singing some lowbrow soldier song to entertain himself. Instead he sat solemnly, seemingly oblivious to his companions as the light from the fire danced across his face. He looked pale in the light, dreadfully so. As Aragorn was about to leave him be, he saw him shiver.
Of course; he had been so quick to help the halflings .
"Boromir?" The sound of his name seemed to snatch his attention, gaze breaking from the embers to look across into his face. Aragorn set his empty bowl aside as he motioned for the captain. "Come sit with me."
The request had caught him off guard, and he had nothing to say in response. It wasn't an odd request by any means; Aragorn was a pillar of their group, everyone in their party had sat with him at one point. The Hobbits were quite fond of huddling around him to keep warm or learn weapon care, and Legolas has dozed off beside him during their friendship more times than anyone bothered to remember. Gimli had fallen asleep when they were back to back one night, and even Gandalf had dozed off on his shoulder before after having to use his magic extensively.
Everyone, that was, except for Boromir. In all the time from their leaving Rivendell not once had Boromir asked to sit with him, nor had Aragorn asked it of him. Though they agreed that their roles in the world of men were meaningless on this journey, something about it was so ingrained in the son of Denethor that Aragorn didn't have the heart to make him look past it. Then there were the... less formal aspects of their relationship, which he found the younger chose to ignore in the light of day. As such, it was an unspoken understanding between them that had gone unbroken all these miles.
Until now, with Aragorn propping his arm up on his knee as the request hung in the air. A small smile tugged at his lips as he motioned for the man to come closer. It was kind, as all his smiles are, but Boromir couldn't help but feel it was mocking him. He knew if he hesitated there may be questions from the less modest of their group about why he is so cold towards the other man, but he couldn't make himself move willingly.
"You are still cold, aren't you my friend?"
Boromir shivered, and the ranger laughed at him.
"Come here, I'll warm you up."
Though not yet a king, his words still carried great power for a man of Gondor. Whether his confidence or some elvish charm he had learnt, he could not say, but he found himself leaving his spot in front of the fire to cross over to him. Being similar in size, he was unsure of what exactly the heir to the throne expected of him, but Aragorn merely lowered his gaze as he stepped close and took him by the hand. Lips brushed against his hand in greeting, and he had not a moment to ponder it before he was being manoeuvred.
Pulled down to the warmth near the fire, Boromir glanced around with uncertainty as he sat between the ranger's legs on the blanket. He sat stiffly, trying to keep the air of propriety around them. As much as he might find it distasteful, he was in a better spot for the wind to blow the warm air of the flames towards him though, and he shivered as Aragorn felt his skin.
"Gods, you're still freezing," he remarked, the back of his hand pressing against his cheek. He could feel the heat draining out of him the moment their skin touched. "I suppose a man of Gondor is not used to these temperatures?"
Boromir scoffed at the taunt, shivering as he felt the older man brush the hair behind his ear. "No man is prepared for what Caradhras throws at them."
The man hummed, "True enough, my friend." His hand rested firmly on his shoulder, but wasn't forceful as it pulled him to lay back against his chest. Boromir objected quietly, but was silenced as the warmth of Aragorn's cloak surrounded them. It had been laying near the fire, warming for as long as the fire had been burning, and the relief it gave his freezing form was immediate.
He relaxed in Aragorn's arms, which had slipped around his waist under the cover of the cloak, revelling in the heat that worked hard to draw the cold out of his skin regardless of how deep it ran. Though he knew he was chilly, it wasn't until he was surrounded by the ranger's warmth that he realised just how dangerously cold he still was. He shivered again, and the arms around his waist pulled him closer.
"This is inappropriate..." he mumbled to the man, gaze sweeping over the group cautiously. It didn't seem like anyone was paying them much mind, instead preparing themselves for rest. If Legolas was paying attention enough to hear him, he didn't show it, too invested in bantering with the dwarf over something meaningless.
Aragorn's chin rested on his shoulder, words ghosting over his skin as he spoke. "Keeping my ally safe from frostbite is inappropriate?" Though his words were quiet, he could still hear the teasing lilt to his voice. He didn't need to see the man to know that damn smile was on his face. He moved to stand but relented as the ranger's grip tightened. "I know your worry, but in the world I am simply a Ranger."
"To the halflings maybe, but I know your lineage. I know my place, and this -"
"I have lived much too long to be concerned with such proprieties… We are not among men, and there is no one here who would condemn you for enjoying my company."
"Aragorn, we-"
"Be at ease. What are you so afraid of, naurnin? "
Though he didn't know the word, it still flooded his chest with warmth and quieted his arguments. No one had given him a nickname since his brother, and the first time he realised Aragorn was using it to call for him it made him feel… Well, he wasn't sure he wanted to name it. The reaction of a nearby elf had told him all he needed to, and he had memorised the sound of it in case Aragorn needed to call for him in the heat of battle. He never used it that way though, only when they were alone.
Or, in this case, alone enough as the fire burned and their companions rested. The chill of night was starting to set in over the fire now, and Boromir was glad as Aragorn secured the cloak around them, his nose pressing into the crook of the captain's neck. Despite being worn from years of travel, the cloak was quite thick and held the same musk as its owner. He felt encompassed by the ranger, letting out a long sigh. Stubble grazed across his skin, and though the light from the fire was low enough to cast their faces in shadows, he still felt his face heat as a kiss was pressed lightly to his shoulder.
He turned his head, nudging Aragorn with his chin in protest. Another soft kiss laid against the nape of his neck, and he swore he could feel the man smiling. "What game are you at?" he mumbled halfheartedly, eyes drooping shut as that stubble nuzzled against his neck.
"No game, naurnin ," Aragorn promised him with a slow press of lips against his jaw. "Can I not enjoy what fleeting time remains before danger is upon us?"
Boromir hummed low in his throat, lacing their fingers together as he resigned himself to his companion's advances. It was far from the first time they had been in such a position, but it was the first where there could be possible witnesses. Though their companions slept soundly and Legolas was busy with the watch, he still felt unsure as warm breath ghosted against his ear. The less people knew how deep their bond ran, the less of a risk it could be exploited.
"You're thinking too much." The lazy words almost made him laugh; for as cautious with everything else as he was, Aragorn had little care to tiptoe around his relationships. Still, he could not argue as Aragorn leaned back against his bag, reclining them both into a more comfortable position. "Let your mind rest for once."
Lips brushed against his cheek, and he turned to catch him in a kiss- quick, just the faintest brush of lips to let him know his affections were returned before turning back to watch the fire. That was enough for Aragorn though, who squeezed him gently as he nestled his face against the man's hair. Lips pressed against his temple one final time before they settled in for the night, wrapped in each other's arms for one more night.
It could very well be their last.