Far Horizons ❦ Boromir

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"THE Lady Galadriel has offered us sanctuary here in the realm of Lórien until you are fit to travel," she had told them when they both woke in the pale morning light. He had nodded and pressed his hand against the linen bandages, wishing to be rid of them, but such wounds did not heal quickly, he had seen enough men killed and wounded by arrows to know that. Aeardis adjusted the knot that held the wrappings in place and slipped her hands down his arms and into his own.

She saw that he cast a wayward glance toward his shield and scabbard, it was this part that she dreaded the most. Aeardis glanced up at him and he could see the sorrow lingering in her murky eyes. "They do not think you will be able to use a sword with vigour for some time," she said, quietly and with no small amount of hesitance. In all his years, Boromir had never felt useless until now. He had been wounded before, had shed far more blood and still persisted on, it seemed like a cruel punishment for him to not be able to wield a sword. He was a soldier, that was all he knew.

When the day came to pass and the silver light of the moon shone down through the canopy of the trees, Boromir stood before his sweet sea bride, holding both her hands within his own. They had walked the greensward until he had tired of the same scenery and until his muscles ached in protest at the exertion.

"Your ears," he breathed after pushing back the hair that had fallen in front of her face. Aeardis felt her ears and cheeks heat up, she had dreaded this day for many years, and even more so now after what had transpired. "What about them?" she murmured, not daring to look up.

Boromir traced over the pointed tip that he had never realized came from elven blood, "I've only just noticed they come to a soft point."

Aeardis swallowed the lump in her throat. "I have elven blood in me if only but a drop." There was a wistful smile on her lips as she remembered her father and kin on Tol Eressëa.

"Boromir," she took hold of his hands again, hoping that it could make him understand. "Haven't you ever wondered why it appears that I have not aged since my thirtieth nameday?" It was true, for nigh ten years not a wrinkle had appeared on her features, nor had a grey hair sprouted despite how much she worried. "Why my father looked ageless despite being much older than your grandfather?"

He already knew though, Galadriel had told him, but he listened regardless. "I'm not quite half-elven, you see, more like quarter-elven," she mused. Though by his reaction she had a budding suspicion that another had already divulged that much about her. "But I need not tell you that. I believe the Lady of Light spoke to you earlier." Aeardis almost sounded sad.

"She told me that you had given something up," Boromir spoke, unsure now if he wished to know what it had been as he did know the Tale of Beren and Lúthien, of Idril and Tuor. Of fair elven maids sacrificing everything to be with their beloved. He felt his throat and chest grow tight until breathing was nigh painful. Aeardis lifted her nimble hands to his cheeks.

"When I chose you, I chose to forsake the extra years that my elven blood could have given me." She swallowed hard and watched his expression furrow in confusion and then darken. "I am mortal now, Boromir. Our lives have been bound together." Though deep inside her heart, Aeardis knew that they had always been bound together.

Boromir shook his head, forcing back the tears that had come and wet his eyes. "Why?" he rasped out.

Aeardis smiled, her eyes sparkling in the soft glow of the moon. "Because I love you." The answer was easy enough. She had loved him for years. Her thumb brushed away the single tear that had managed to escape from his stormy grey eyes.

"You shouldn't have," he muttered, then after a moment he took her into his arms and pressed his lips against the crown of her head. "But, I am grateful that you did," he added.

"As am I," she took his hands back into her own. "Tolo a bosto," she whispered, leading him back into their own private alcove beneath the mallorn trees.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It was not a subject he wished to dwell on, but part of him needed to know what the Ring had tempted Aeardis with. She had told him before that she could feel its temptation, its power, but never once did she try to seek it out. While with the Fellowship it seemed she was immune to its growing power and perhaps that meant that she was stronger than he. Boromir winced as she undid the dressings, checking for any signs that his wounds could begin festering. The three punctures were healing well and much faster with the aid of the elves.

"What did the Ring show you?"

Her eyes flittered up to meet his at the sudden question, but she quickly resumed her work of gathering clean bandages and the herbal salve that had been prepared. She dipped her fingers into the sticky salve and faintly touched his right breast, dabbing the purplish colored substance over the worst of the wounds. Aeardis did not break concentration as she began to speak. "My father, Tol Eressëa, you."

His brows settled into a deep furrow. "How did you not give in at the promise of your father living once more?"

Aeardis looked up at him with a sad smile. "Because everyone has a time and place that they must die." Her father had told her that when she would ask about her mother, when her tutored passed away, and when Ecthelion of Gondor did as well. "My father's was on the road back to me. I do not wish to interfere with Ilúvatar's will." Saving a man from death was one thing, bring one back from the dead was entirely different and unnatural.

She could still sense there was another question on his tongue, one which she believed could be answered without him asking it. He wanted to know what drove her resistance, how she could remain unchanged in the Ring's presence. "I did not give in because there was something I wanted even more than the Ring," she began, her eyes flicked upward to meet his own gaze as she wrapped the bandage under his arm and over his shoulder, "something that I already had." You.

"What did the Ring tempt you with?" She questioned softly in return, believing that she knew at least part of the visions that the One Ring had tempted him with.

"The prosperity of Gondor," he began, "and you, my sweet Aeardis." There was a long pause as he took her in flushed cheeks and messy hair. So few people had ever seen her in such a state of unrest and disarray, and yet even Boromir still found her to be more beautiful than all the elves in the land. "A vision of you in white with a crown of winter roses beneath the blooming flowers of the White Tree." Heat rose to her cheeks.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The elves had spared a bow for him to work with while the shards of his sword were reforged. His muscles still did not obey like they once had and now he could not even draw back the string of a bow far enough to hit a target from across the greensward. Each miss only made him grow more and more frustrated.

Aeardis manifested behind him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and the tension was eased. The bow fell from his hands and into her own. "You do more harm to yourself than good," she breathed.

But he shook his head, adamant. He was a soldier of Gondor, a Captain to the men and city. It would not do for him not to swing a sword or string a bow. "What good is a Captain of the White Tower if he cannot protect the city and people he loves?" He gritted out.

"Boromir," the way she spoke his name broke his heart. Aeardis slipped in front of him and placed her hand on his chest. The open neck of his tunic revealed one of the scars that had persisted even with her and the elves' healing. "Only time can heal these wounds now." Those were not the words he wished to hear, but they were the ones he needed to hear. In the end, time was the best medicine.

He stepped away from her and looked around at the elves who, under Elrond and Galadriel's council were being sent to aid the people of Rohan at the Hornburg. "I should be going with them to Helm's Deep," he confessed with a bitter tone. Aeardis frowned and led him away, it would do him no good to dwell on his current inadequacies.

Translations:

Tolo a bosto. - Come and rest.