𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 || 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐁 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊

ʙᴏʀᴏᴍɪʀ - ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

I described this chapter to my friend as "a very brief interlude of Boromir fucking with Gríma" and she misread it as "Boromir fucking Gríma" which is certainly an interesting alternative way for this to go.

but yeah boromir definitely fucks around and finds out in this one. have fun!

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Leaning against a pillar in the empty throne room that evening, Boromir contemplated if he had not given up on helping Robb too quickly. After he had been taken, all Boromir had truly wanted to do in Edoras was ask for aid in finding him. The Rohirrim knew the Mark better than anyone. Even just informing the border patrols to keep an eye out would have eased Boromir's mind, for wherever the Orcs had taken Robb—Isengard or Mordor, but most likely the former—the guards would surely have come across their trail at the very least.

But with King Théoden in Saruman's hands, Théodred dead and Éomer banished, with the border patrols called off entirely...in truth, Boromir had not even attempted to ask for help. The only one with the authority to grant it was Gríma, and he was almost certain to worsen the situation. And the problems this kingdom faced were not something he could ignore, not when Éowyn had asked for his aid so directly. As much as he wished to rescue Robb, for now Boromir could not. But he could help Éowyn.

Boromir sighed soundlessly and startled when a door opened across the hall. A sliver of light illuminated the hall for just a few seconds, and in it Boromir recognized the dark hair of the king's advisor as he entered the room.

Boromir smiled, casting his thoughts of Robb aside for the moment. Finally, his quarry had arrived. The man crossed the hall quickly and quietly. Boromir pushed away from the pillar.

"My Lord Gríma," he said, and pretended not to notice the way Gríma jumped and froze in guilty surprise. "I wondered if we might have a word."

Finally, Gríma's eyes found Boromir in the darkness. "Lord Boromir. More suspicious minds would say you were trying to engage in a conspiracy."

Boromir laughed. "Me? No, I haven't the mind for it. I prefer to be open about what I want."

"And what would that be?"

"I realize, my lord, that both of our kingdoms are in peril." Boromir shrugged, crossing his arms. This, of course, was true. Faramir had always told him that the best lies were rooted in truth. "Our enemies are stronger than we had imagined. Not half a year ago, I would have gone charging into battle without doubt of our victory. But now?"

He shook his head, sighed. Gríma still had not moved, but at least he was listening.

"I have seen things, Gríma, that might have had Elendil himself running for his life." Elendil had faced Sauron in combat and so Boromir doubted it, but what came next was the real lie. The one he had to sell. "I have come to see what our only way forward can be. That way is not battle."

Gríma took a tiny step forward, an almost imperceptible shuffle, but Boromir saw it and knew he had the man hooked.

"What would you propose instead?"

"We condemn Ulfang the Black for his alliance with the Enemy, but I have realized he was right. If we want to live—if we want our people to live, that is the way we must follow."

Gríma tilted his head. "You would betray your father to Sauron?" He hummed. "That does not sound like the loyal son and Captain you are lauded as."

Boromir pressed his lips together. By the gods, Gríma was a suspicious bastard. Suddenly, he was thankful Éowyn had told him so much about the man, had helped him figure out his approach.