Far Horizons ❦ Boromir

thírtч: fírѕt crαckѕ

BEFORE dawn could break, Aeardis ventured down to the Silverlode, stripped away the fine gown that the elves had lent her and sank deep into the cool, clear waters. A wash basin had been a refreshing, but nothing could compare to a proper bath, even if it was in a small river. The oil that she worked through her hair was sweet and heavy with the scent of almonds, roses, and lavender mixed together. It reminded her of the Minas Tirith in a way, with the lavender that grew wild within greenswards over the city.

From the low shrubs and trees, Boromir halted in his tracks before he made his presence known. Guilt swelled in his gut as he watched her from afar. She was sitting on a rock, her hair pulled over her shoulder, but in place of smooth, pale skin her back and shoulders were a smattering of deep purple and blue bruises. It was a sight he never wished to see. Aeardis was too fair and gentle to bear such painful marks. Sighing, Boromir stepped forward into the clearing at the water's edge, close enough to hear that she was humming a melody that he remembered his mother singing. "What have I done to deserve to stumble upon such a sight?"

"Boromir!" She exclaimed, heart racing, with red cheeks she slipped into the water again. He laughed and looked away to save what was left of her modesty, "Forgive my intrusion." It was not an earnest apology as a certain amount of smugness lingered in his voice. For a moment she could have fooled herself into thinking that they were in Gondor once more, sharing a foolish and carefree moment as they so often did as children. "What say you to company?" he finally dared to ask as she pulled her hair over her shoulder again, this time to begin braiding the dark strands.

"You, Captain Boromir," she began with a teasing tone, "are poor company." Aeardis had lost track of the number of days that they had been together on this quest and in a selfish way, she enjoyed every moment. "You wound me," he lamented, though the grave tone of his voice was thrown off by a small chuckle when she splashed water in his direction.

"You are hurt," Boromir whispered in her ear, his hand ghosting over the bruised skin. It explained the slight limp in her step, the way she oft braced her side before sitting and standing. "I'll be fine," she smiled, "I don't think the elves can heal bruises." Bruises took time to heal and only time, but Boromir frowned nonetheless.

"Aeardis," he breathed, in the same scolding tone that she had spoken his name in many times before. She knew well what he was trying to do and let out a soft laugh. "Truly, Boromir, I will be fine," she reassured him.

Silence befell them for a moment, though for some reason it was an uneasy one filled with words that needed to be spoken but were unable to form on their lips. Boromir waded closer to her in the water. He had not managed to escape the Mines of Moria unscathed either. There were a handful of small bruises on his arms and chest and a slim but scabbed over cut on his forearm that she had not noticed before now.

"Forgive me for leading you into such peril," he raised his hand to her cheek, running his thumb over the scabbed cut on her cheek, "it was never my intention." Aeardis shook her head, she had known the risks when Lord Denethor sent her with him. Middle Earth was a vast land and there were bound to be dangers around every corner, but she had accepted that.

"There is nothing to forgive," she whispered, leaning into his palm, her eyes closed. Something brushed over her lips and it took a moment before she realized that it was Boromir's trembling lips against her own. It still seemed odd, to be kissing him, but she threaded her fingers through his damp hair and leaned into him with a quaint sigh. It was a peculiar oddness that she could become very accustomed to.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

They remained some days in Lothlórien, so far as they could tell or remember. All the while that they dwelt there the sun shone clear, save for a gentle rain that fell at times, and passed away leaving all things fresh and clean. The air was cool and soft as if it were early spring, yet they felt about them the deep and thoughtful quiet of winter. It seemed to them that they did little but eat and drink and rest, and walk among the trees, and it was enough. Enough to almost forget about the quest at hand.