MIZPAH. ᶠᵃʳᵃᵐⁱʳ [REWRITTEN]

ii. the super secret council is not, in fact, that secret

𝐢𝐢.

LEAVING Briareth to rest, she follows Elrond into an elegant courtyard. The area is small and round, with a stone pedestal in the center. A gathering of Men, Dwarves, and Elves mill around the area--which is remarkable in of itself--but that's not what catches her eye.

Her steps falter as her gaze falls on a familiar figure.

One she has not seen in a very long time.

"Boromir." Her voice is but a whisper, as she watches the Captain of the White Tower murmur something in a low tone to one of his men. It only takes a moment for him to realize her gaze, and when he stiffens and turns around she can't help but take a step back.

His eyes meet hers, and immediately shock, relief, and flurry of emotions flit across his face. Without breaking eye contact, he mutters something to his men. She holds her breath as he strides towards her, mind racing. What is he doing, what is he--

He pulls her into a crushing hug.

"Y/N L/N." His voice is gruff, deeper than before, but warm and empathetic against the top of her hair. "Where have you been? Why are you here?"

She can feel a slow smile spreading across her face, relishing in the feel of the familiar hug. It feels like ages since she's ever been held like this, and it brings a lump to her throat. She hadn't realized just how much she missed home until this moment.

"Oh, everywhere. But I just had to attend this Council." Her voice threatens to waver, and she clears her throat before drawing back and studying his face again. He looks so much older--hair longer, eyes fiercer. "I missed you," she whispers. I miss home.

Boromir's face falls, and he pulls her close again. "I know," he murmurs.

She shuts her eyes as the old heartbreak and homesickness rise up in her throat. Fighting it down, she leans into Boromir's embrace.

"My Lord and Lady."

A voice breaks the reverie, and Y/N exhales. Breaking away from the hold, she turns to see an elf with an expectant expression on his otherwise blank face. "The Council will begin shortly."

"Ni lassui," she tells him softly. Thank you. He nods, walking off, and the two take their seats around the courtyard. Boromir raises an eyebrow at her.

"Since when do you speak the language of the Elves?" he asks, a questioning tone to his voice.

"Since my travels have taken me into the far realms of Middle-Earth," she answers. Her gaze roves around the seated participants of the Council, realizing with some surprise that there are some familiar faces. A Ranger she knows as Strider sits silently, observing the Council as well, and she recognizes Gandalf the Grey and Legolas of the Woodland Realm convene in hushed tones with each other. She winces. The last time she saw the Elf-prince, they did not exactly part on good terms.

"You have changed." Boromir studies her face. He sees the sadness in her eyes, how they seem far too old for her age, and he frowns. After eight years of friendship, he's grown to see her as a sister he's never had--so this, seeing her so changed after three years of her disappearance, makes his heart ache.

"As have you," she says, then winks. "For the better, of course."

The same sense of humor, though, he thinks fondly, but lays her with a half-hearted glare. "Of course."

"By the way, how is Faramir? And..." Her face closes off, humor fading. "My family, have you--have you seen them?"

Boromir dips his head. "Faramir has risen to become Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien. I argue he deserves more, but Father..." He sighs, pausing. "I have not seen your family since two years ago. I'm sorry."