Far Horizons ❦ Boromir

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FROM the winding forest path emerged a narrow bridge that led into the valley of Imladris, Aeardis extended her arms in glee towards the house of Elrond, "Alas!" She cried in mockery of all that had transpired during their long journey from Gondor, "I was beginning to think we'd never make it."

Her travel companion huffed and continued onward, shifting the weight of his shield and her small pack of books and other trinkets that had not run away with the horses, "Was it really necessary to bring these?" he scrutinized.

"Yes!" Aeardis exclaimed, her few book had proven useful on their journey and he knew that to be true, "I was not the one who lost the horses," she lambasted, "nor was I the one who mistook the Angren for the Gwathló." Boromir glowered though she found his sour expression particularly amusing.

They only stopped bickering when a dark-haired elf strode forward, extending his hand in greeting. "Welcome to Rivendell," his voice had a calming, melodic factor about it that reminded her of her late father. Boromir straightened his back and Aeardis clasped her hands together as if the gesture could make up for her travel-weary appearance. "Rooms have been readied for your arrival," the elf added as two more elves strode forth, one male, the other female. Each of them led Boromir and Aeardis in separate directions, not giving them time to protest.

In haste to keep up with the long strides of the elleth in front of her, Aeardis hardly glanced around at the splendor that was Rivendell, though she did take note of certain rooms and statues that lined the halls. Finally, the elf woman came to a stop and gestured toward the guest room. She immediately stepped over the threshold and was delighted to see a featherbed and bath. Aeardis turned to thank her guide but she had already gone.

The room was bathed in a golden hue from the light of the setting sun. It seemed that over many years, the halls of had been hewn from stone and the furniture sung from trees. It also appeared to Aeardis that the elves had a keen distaste for chamber doors that rivaled that of Minas Tirith. Openness and fresh air seemed to be of utmost importance in the rooms that privacy was nearly lost, especially within the bathing chambers.

A few moment's passed before a stream of elven women came through her door bearing large pitchers of warm water to fill the stone tub. Another, younger looking elf, brought a simple dress and laid out a loose fitting robe to be worn while her clothes were mended and cleaned.

She bit back her small whine of satisfaction upon seeing the assortment of sweet oils and soaps that had been laid out too. When the water grew cold, Aeardis stood with a great amount of relief, it had been many weeks since she had the luxury of a bath. Her skin had been rid of the dirt and grime, her hair once again was soft and clean though she had not worked out the tangles yet.

Cool autumn air nipped at her skin as she reached for the shapeless robe, it was unlike any garment she had ever worn, even more finely crafted than her ceremonial dresses. It was a made of green silk, so thin it grew close to transparent when it touched her still damp body.

"Aeardis?" In the mirror's reflection, she saw that Boromir was peering into her room with a cautious air, unsure as to whether he would be interrupting her bath or catching her in an inopportune state of undress. "Yes?" She called back, looking over her shoulder. He stuck out her small pack that had still been strung across his back when they parted ways. "Your things?"

"Will you place it on the bed, please? I'm a bit busy at the moment." Frustrated would have been a better word as she picked at a matted nest of hair at the back of her neck. Boromir chuckled to himself as he entered her rooms, catching sight of her sitting at a vanity with a pearl comb half stuck in a matted mass of hair.

It made him think of the time when she had braided Faramir's hair when they were younger. She had offered to do the same to his hair but he had told her that only women wore braids, that was when she told him of the elves and dwarves for both genders wore braids without shame, even their fierce and legendary warriors. He never mocked her again for such things. Those childhood memories were gone the instant he saw the figure that lay beneath the limpid robe, almost unhidden from his gaze. He swallowed hard and left as quickly as he had come.