Far Horizons ❦ Boromir

nínєtєєn: íll σmєnѕ

SWEAT trickled down Boromir's face and back as he parried the stroke of one of the young men's blade. One of the many recruits that would be sent to battle, however, no amount training could prepare them to face the foes of Mordor. Steel clashed against steel in the training yard, only a precursor to the sounds of battle when men were screaming in pain, and black and silver armor were clacking against one another, and Orcs cursing and speaking in the guttural tongue of Mordor.

Nothing could prepare them, only a battle itself. He swung with full force, missing Boromir and stumbling forward with the weight of sword and shield. Had it been a real fight, it was likely such an ill-calculated move would have cost him his life. "Again!" The Captain-General called, and so the match began anew.

One of Denethor's personal heralds ran through the sparring men and stopped near Lord Boromir, his stance resolute as he told the Steward-Prince that he had been summoned to the Great Hall by his father. It was an urgent matter that needed to be discussed. Already irritated by the ineptness of even the experienced soldiers, he rammed his sword back into its sheath and followed the herald back to the Citadel.

Posted sentries opened the large wooden doors and Boromir entered, adjusting his vambraces, as none of the other nobles or commanders were present, he knew this was not an urgent matter. Lord Denethor sat in the marble chair beneath the King's Throne and rose, though his face darkened upon seeing the harsh expression his son wore. "What is your reason for summoning me here?" The Captain-General demanded, he was needed elsewhere, not answering his father's beck and call for matters that were of no importance to the security and wellbeing of Gondor.

The reigning Steward's face contorted in ire, "How can the line of Stewards continue if you do not have an heir?!" His father demanded unease and panic laced his voice. Boromir felt his ears burn, "This is what I was interrupted for? To speak of marriage?"

Denethor stepped off the dais and was no longer at eye-level with his son. "I will not see the likes of Faramir sitting on this chair!" Came the bitter declaration. Boromir moved backward and shook his head, this was not the time to speak of trivial matters. "Name the beauty that has your eye and you shall have her, wedded and bedded."

Boromir sighed, "I will not argue with you about this, father."

"It's her you want is it not?" He asked his son and took the silence as his answer. Twenty years of her counsel were forgotten and all the things she had done for Gondor. All Denethor could picture was the way she bent both his sons and the Elder Council to her will. She was a meddlesome liability in his mind, that had been what the seeing stone told him. "The witch has you under her spell! She wishes to take you from me!" He paced back and forth in front of the throne. "She will not take my son from me, not you, not my firstborn!"

Alas, he understood what Aeardis spoke of when she called his father mad. Boromir bit back his harsh response and thought for a moment about the prospect of marriage. He did not desire some highborn lady whom he had nothing in common with, not even if she were a great beauty would he want to wed someone that there would be no common ground with. After almost three decades, there was only one woman he had ever come across that would wish to take as a wife and now she was in Ithilien, with his brother. "And if it was her I desired to wed?"

"No!" Denethor shrieked.

"Father please, I have done nothing but your bidding, if I must marry...," he paused and could see her gentle smile and murky eyes, "let me marry Aeardis with your blessing," he pleaded. She was his light in the darkness that grew upon the land.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Faramir crept along with a bow nocked with an arrow ready to shoot, as did the rest of the Rangers. Aeardis, however, kept her hand on the hilt of her sword, ready to draw it at a moments notice. In the low-lying, land was a hoard of orcs, marching on the Southern Road.