Far Horizons ❦ Boromir

twєntч-fσur: quαrtєr єlf

AEARDIS supped alone in the library, rethinking over what had been said and proposed at the council and the impending journey that she would undoubtedly be taken on if Boromir had his say. He would not leave her to travel back to Minas Tirith on her own in these dark times. Her thoughts were interrupted by the very person that consumed them. He sat across from her at the small table and reached for both a glass and the decanter of red wine. "What do you think of the fate of the One Ring?" He asked.

He had spoken openly in the council that Isildur's Bane was a gift to the foes of Mordor and indeed that would be true if there was anyone strong enough to wield the ring and not succumb to its power. The council had ridiculed him for such a statements and Aeardis had noticed the way many now regarded him with wariness. Perhaps if the others had grown into manhood in the Shadow of Mordor then they would understand that his intentions were not evil, that he only wished for the strength to defend the realms which he loved. Though that did not change the fact that the ring was pure evil. "It must be destroyed, Boromir," her voice was tight.

"Perhaps, but think of what Gondor could accomplish with it. We could drive the enemy out of Osgiliath, restore the city, and clear our lands of orcs. No more of my brothers-at-arms would have to perish for this cause."

"No one can wield it and do such acts," she snapped, almost repeating what Aragorn had said during the meeting. She was tired of all the talk of war and the end of the dominion of both men and elves. "Not you, not your father, not even Faramir or any other soldier can use the ring." Aeardis did not regret her words though she did regret her tone. Her voice was softer now, more akin to what the Captain was used to hearing. "You may seek to do good with its power but through you, it will do evil."

Boromir's expression darkened. "Have you so little care for your home and people?" He rejoined. She was almost rendered speechless by his backhanded words.

"Listen to yourself, Boromir!" Aeardis could not bear to look at him, so she looked anywhere else. Down at her hands, the small scratches on the table, to the open balcony on her left and the shelves of books on her right. "I love Gondor as I loved Tol Eressëa. It is my home now and I do not wish to see it fall but using the Ring is not the path to be taken." She met his gaze and frowned at how muddled and distant it seemed as if he had not even been listening as she spoke. Aeardis reached across the table taking both his hands into her own and held them with a fierce determination.

"Stay with me, okay?" Her voice cracked. The trance that had taken hold of Boromir lifted like a morning fog. He frowned, slipping his hands free of hers only to lean forward and rest them upon her cold cheeks. "I feel its power too, its temptation," she admitted, "but as long as I draw breath I will not give in."

His eyes were no longer clouded with angry, but rather held a clear sort of sadness within them, "You do not understand," he said, quietly, "my father commanded me to bring the Ring to him." At one point, that would have surprised her, but now with Denethor's ailing mind and use of the Seeing Stone, it didn't seem to shock her at all that the Steward would make such a foolish request of his dutiful son.

"And you must deny him," Aeardis replied, softly, as she could see the pain it brought to his fair features. Never had he disappointed his father and yet for Gondor's sake, he would have to. Boromir met her murky gaze, still holding her delicate face between his battle-hardened hands. "What is your choice here? Do we unite as one or do we die as many?"

Boromir's hands fell away from her face at the heavy question she had asked. "This is the city of the men of Númenor we speak of. I would gladly give my life to defend her beauty, her memory, her wisdom." Aeardis's smile was fleeting, though Boromir did not see it as he stood to leave the library, having left his glass of wine untouched.