Far Horizons ❦ Boromir

fíftєєn: ѕcαrѕ αnd hєαrtѕ

THE delicate sound a harp echoes through the halls of the Citadel, yet it was not until he reached the library that Boromir heard the soft and sweet voice that accompanied the instrument.

"To dream of silver locks entwisted, stormy. Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep. I know not if fate would have us live as one or if by love's blind chance we've been bound. The wish I whispered, when it all began. Did it forge a love you might never have found? You flee my dream come the morning, your scent - berries tart, lilac sweet-,"

"I don't believe I've heard that song before," Boromir smiled at the way she jumped in surprise, striking a dissonant chord. Her hands fell away from the strings of the harp and came to rest on her lap. He was leaning against the stone column with his arms crossed.

Aeardis sighed as she thought of the story behind one of her favorite songs, "It was written by a dwarf king for his fairy lover." She raised her hands back to the instrument and plucked the taut strings to the melody though she did not sing again. "Istannathon o gannadad angin."

Boromir sat on the bench next to her, words of praise on his tongue that would never be heard as Faramir came searching for him. "Father wishes to speak to you, it is urgent." Aeardis felt her heart sink at the expression that Faramir now wore and for a moment she knew that Gondor would go to battle again.

Hours passed, she tended to her duties and supped alone in her bed chambers as both Boromir and Faramir had not returned from the meeting with Denethor. Beside her bed was a burning candelabra, wax beaded down the pale candles and illuminated the script of the book she had chosen to occupy herself with until sleep would come. "You should be asleep at this hour," he uttered before he had even come into the dim light, his voice worn and laced with exhaustion.

"As should you," Aeardis countered. She slipped a folded piece of parchment between the pages of the book and placed it on the bedside table as he sat on the edge of her bed with his head hanging low and hands clasped together. "I am to be named Captain-General," the words did not come easily.

Long had it been known that a warrior such as he would be anointed to the position. Any other time he supposed he would welcome the new title and rank, but now, after the loss of the battle and so many, he could not find it in himself to be glad. She slipped free of her blankets and draped her arms around his shoulders, "Is that not a good thing?"

Boromir wrapped his fingers around one of her wrists and held it against his chest. He sighed, "I am not worthy of the title if I cannot protect my men, this city, or the ones I love." Aeardis pressed her forehead against the crook of his neck, though her attention was drawn to his injured side as blood had seeped through the bandages at one point.

"Have you tended to your side?" In truth, it was a pointless question, he was bullheaded when it came to healing and rarely did he heed what either the healers or Aeardis told him. Yet it had been quite some time since he had obtained an injury this severe. "Let me change the dressings."