E-mail: angelchildr@freaky.nu
Rating: PG-13
Summary: LOTR/LOTR-RPS - Aragorn/Boromir; Viggo Mortensen/Sean Bean
Disclaimer: The thought that they are mine is simply laughable.
Distribution: http://penned-insanity.freaky.nu/ (My site) or ask.
Author's Note: Improv written for the taste challenge at Contre la Montre. Completed in 31 minutes.

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He always hated the moment he had to look over at the fallen man. The bile rose in the back of his throat, mixing with the blood from a torn lip and the sweat-drenched hair that never failed to find its way between his lips. Even the air was bitter, mixing with the other flavors on his tongue to form a nauseating blend.

One step closer, and he remembered the feast they'd shared scant nights ago under the mallorn trees of Lothlorien. The food was simple, but good, feeding them and giving them strength, filling reserves they hadn't noticed were empty.

Two steps, and he recalled the way the sulfur had clung to them. The rancid scent and gritty ash had infested their mouths after they'd escaped from Moria, the stench of the Balrog a living thing among them, replacing Gandalf's presence.

Three was the snow. The ever-present snow that had haunted their steps up the mountain. It had gotten into everything; the melting of it on their lips didn't turn it back into water, but something harder, the frigidity changing its flavor.

Four brought back memories of food eaten on the trail. Bites taken between laughs when he watched his now-fallen companion wield a sword against two hobbits, teaching them how to fight. The food was much sweeter through a smile.

Five was nothingness. Clean, empty lips moistened between shouts and arguments.

Six brought him to his knees, collapsing over the bloodied man. Words that were meant to be comfort to a dying man did nothing to remove the foul flavors from his lips. A kiss brought the taste of tears and sweat and blood further onto his tongue.

***

"Viggo? You still with us?" The low voice cut through his thoughts and he focused his attention back on Sean. Swiftly bringing his glass to his mouth, he let the sharp tang of alcohol rinse away the remembered flavors from the scene they'd completed earlier that day.

"Just a bad taste in my mouth."

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