Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J.R.R. Tolkien's estate.
To Hate, to Love
Boromir glanced at the Lady Eowyn out of the corner of his eye. He was assisting her in sorting some baskets full of food at Helm's Deep.
Her face was pale and blank of emotion. She worked stiffly, hiding her anguish with practiced ease. But in the tightness of her jaw and in the cloudiness of her grey eyes he could sense her pain.
He had seen her reaction to hearing of Aragorn's death. Her face had filled with disbelief and grief. Tears had filled her eyes, but they had not fallen. She had moved about in a daze, hardly speaking. Now she hid her sorrow with skill and by keeping busy.
He, too, was grieved at Aragorn's fall. He had developed an unusual friendship with the ranger and had grown to truly respect him. He knew Aragorn's counsel and aid were desperately needed and desired here by all.
Boromir did not know what words of comfort and hope to offer the young woman – if she would accept them. They had worked in tense silence for a long while.
Since he had laid eye on the shieldmaiden in Edoras, Boromir had been intrigued by her fiery and strong spirit. She was unlike any other maiden he had ever met.
He had taken notice of the connection she had with Aragorn. She basked in the ranger's presence like a flower opening up under the sun's warmth. A rare smile lighted her face, and a merry laugh escaped her lips. As for Aragorn, the weight of many matters seemed to lift from his shoulders when she was near. His eyes brightened. And a smile graced his lips. Quite a few times Boromir had glimpsed them conversing in low tones. A man had to be blind not to be aware of what passed between the two. And Boromir was terribly jealous.
He desired to make her smile, to make her laugh. But she was cold to him when they spoke. Her face was stern, and she would look at him with scorn when she discovered him watching her. Boromir could not understand why she seemed to hate him so. He wanted to melt the ice around her, to see her eyes soften when she would look at him. He did not want her to run away from him.
Quickly he focused his attention back on his task when Eowyn briefly caught his eye with a hard glare. A flush rose unbidden in his cheeks. He hoped he had not been wearing his thoughts on his face.
Boromir's concentration was broken by Eowyn's gasp of surprise. He looked up from his work in time to see her turn around and walk away from him only to suddenly draw to a halt. He straightened up and walked after her. He glanced over her shoulder.
There, before the large doors of the Keep stood Legolas, looking over a ragged Aragorn. Boromir's eyes lit up. Aragorn was alive. He saw Legolas press something into his friend's hand. Aragorn opened his fist, allowing the silver to catch the light; Boromir realized what it was, and his smile began to fade. Relief flooded the ranger's face before he nodded to Legolas. They both entered the hall.
A troubled frown darkening his brow, Boromir looked at Eowyn who remained still, her head lowered slightly. He cautiously took a step forward.
"My Lady," he carefully laid a hand on her shoulder. "I am sorry. I know how you—"
She jerked away from his touch and turned on her heel. "Do not assume to know my thoughts and feelings, sir," she cut him off in a low voice. For a moment she looked at him, grey pools cold as winter. When he held her gaze, something flickered in her eyes. But before he could ponder on it, she looked away. With swift strides she returned to the waiting food. Boromir followed her.
"Lady…"
"Thank you for your help, sir. I shall manage the rest myself," Eowyn coolly said.
Now anger replaced Boromir's concern.
"Have I offended you, my Lady?" he demanded in exasperation.
"I do not know what you are talking about."
"You have been very uncivil to me since our first meeting. I desire to know what I have done to deserve such treatment."
She looked at him only to drop her eyes, a strange expression coming on her face. "Stop it!" she exclaimed.
"If you would kindly tell me what I am doing, perhaps I can stop," Boromir replied, surprised at how calm he sounded.
Eowyn's face flushed as she sputtered for a moment and turned away, attempting to get a hold of her senses. A grin slowly crept across Boromir's face. This was the most effect he had had on Eowyn; he felt a bit of accomplishment. And she was so beautiful when she lost her temper. He had to restrain himself from embracing her.
"Stop," she stated in a soft, dangerous tone, "following me. Stop always meeting my gaze when I look up. Stop offering your protection and companionship when you are near; no, you have never said it out loud, but silently you have. Stop seeking me out; leave me be. Stop calling me 'Lady.' And," she turned to level another glare at him, "stop watching me with…such an intense fire that scorches me and a soft tenderness that chills me. No man has dared to look at me in such a way. I hate you when you do that, and yet I love you when you do."
A wave of stunned shock hit Boromir in the chest. He stared incredulously at the furious Eowyn. She did have feelings for him! Aragorn… She did not… But how…
He watched in fascination as her eyes widened in horror, realizing what she had just said. She blushed, then turned pale, looking like a deer cornered by a hunter. A second later she rushed around the immovable Boromir and fled into the hall.
He continued to stare blankly at the space that had contained Eowyn a moment ago. "Pray tell, Eowyn, which do you wish me to return: your hate or your love?" he asked the air before him. It was a question he was determined to have answered.