Far Horizons ❦ Boromir

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THE Yuletide celebrations had passed, winter had arrived though its icy grip had not befallen the land yet. A month passed before the first snow blanketed the city and surrounding lands, it just so happened that a faction of the army had been sent to South Ithilien near Emyn Arnen after reported sightings of orcs and shadow men from Harad. Everything seemed to point to a quick campaign yet the snow had been falling for nigh four days and travel would be difficult, especially with wagons of supplies and foot soldiers.

Aeardis looked to the south from the open balcony of the library and felt herself grow frustrated with the weather. She could not ride in the open fields nor go to the market. Despite the numerous tomes and scrolls that were still unread within the library, she found herself unable to concentrate.

Too often she would stare off into the distance, they had been due back four days ago. A strong and frigid wind came from the north and swept through the open arches of the room, cutting through her garments and extinguishing the candles, even the fire in the hearth had died down. Aeardis pulled her thick velvet and fur cloak tighter around her shoulders and shivered, hoping that the snow would not dampen the spirits of Gondor's defenders as it did her own.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Lord Boromir!" The herald intercepted him before he could even enter the last gate into the Citadel. He pulled the reins of his horse to a halting stop. "Lady Aeardis has fallen ill, she rests in the Houses of Healing."

Boromir's face paled, his mood instantly soured. His brown mare was passed off to a stable hand and the herald led him in the direction of the infirmary. "Why was this news not sent to me on the battlefront?" There was no shortage of anger in his voice and he tried little to disguise it. Many had come to be on the receiving end his wrath of the years and few wished to witness it ever again.

"Your father, my lord, he feared that such news would cause the battle to be lost." The herald bowed and took his leave of the Steward-Prince. His anger bubbled up into rage and betrayal, not understanding why his father would have thought news of Aeardis's sickness would turn the tides of the battle. If anything, such news would have driven him to carry out the campaign quicker and fight against the collecting snow to return.

His anger, however, subsided as soon as he entered the Houses and saw her lying there, peaceful and unbothered by duty. For a moment, he simply stared in her direction and nearly laughed at realizing this was the first time in many years where he had found her not working herself to an early grave.

He knelt next to the small cot and pulled the blanket back up to her shoulders, she stirred then and looked around with half-delirious eyes. "Boromir?" The small gasp of his name was sweeter than any music had ever been. Before he could take her hand, she had raised it to his face, his skin was cool compared to hers. Stubble had begun growing on his jaw again. She preferred him that way. "It is good to see your face."

The Steward-Prince enclosed her delicate hand in both of his, a strange feeling of guilt came over him, "I had only just returned when they told me." For a brief second, she had managed to thread her fingers through his.

Aeardis glanced over his shoulder, looking for someone else, his brother no doubt. "Where is Faramir?" she inquired in a scratchy voice. Boromir released her hand and pushed back the hair that had stuck to her sweat-slickened forehead, "He is still with the ranging party near Poros, they will not return until midweek if the weather allows."

He laid his hand on her forehead and frowned at how warm and clammy it felt, "You are burning up." Aeardis frowned at him when one of the healers scurried to her side again with a damp cloth at his soft observation. It was Trianna who had come this time. The cool cloth sent a chill through her blood.