What Went Unspoken

Chapter One: Fairest in the City

That evening, Boromir found he could not stay in the Citadel; even in his own apartments and their silent comfort, he could feel his father's vigilant scrutiny on him, disappointment in both of his sons permeating the very walls. Boromir found that he was haunted by the pain that constantly met his sibling here. This was not how a home should be, and he feared that his family was disintegrating around him despite all his efforts to hold it together.

Faramir had left the moment they had taken their evening meal, presumably to see that his fellow Rangers were seen to and settled in good accommodations for the length of the furlough in the White City. Boromir hated that when his brother did return for periods of time, when they should have been able to spend rare hours together, they could not enjoy the opportunity for Denethor's practically driving Faramir away again.

Eventually, Boromir gave up sitting alone and pondering melancholy thoughts. It did him no good and would change little. Standing, he scrubbed a hand over his weary face and left the room. Making his way across the greensward outside the Citadel, he found himself gazing up at the stars, idly wondering what it would be like to sit and enjoy them knowing that his city was safe and at peace. He stopped walking when he had finally winded his way down to the fifth circle, and was standing outside a familiar, yet nondescript, stone building.

Entering, he was greeted by boisterous noise, color, movement, and warmth; the direct opposite of the place he had just left behind. The inn was a common stomping ground for him, as it had been since his earliest campaign as a young soldier. Often, he had found that he couldn't bear the silence when he returned from battle. Images of fallen comrades, echoes of their pain, and the knowledge that they would never stem the tide of their enemies' onslaught came crashing down on him. Instead, he needed a place where he might sit with some of his fellows – still hale, hearty, and laughing, downing some of Gondor's finest ale served by pretty maids, raucously join in drinking songs, swap stories, and continue attempting to bury all that tormented him.

It was in this very establishment that he had met the person he now sought. A friend who often listened, calmed him, and lessened his fears. It had been one of those chance encounters; a moment of kismet bearing the sort of magic that Faramir so enjoyed in Elvish lore. Boromir's eyes warmed as he remembered their first meeting, a nostalgic smile softening his stern warrior's face.

And it was in this moment of remembrance that she walked up to him now.

A teasing smile and wicked gleam in her eyes lit the face of the woman who now stood before him. Light brown hair curled wildly about her face, glinting at times red or gold in the flickering firelight and lamps. She was tall and sturdy-built for a woman, Boromir knew, but he had never had much use for such slender saplings of women that he feared he might break them in their fragility. Her soft, full curves favored her and her lips pouted beautifully in a perfect Cupid's bow. "Ah, I see our city's great Captain-General has deigned to grace us with his illustrious presence once again."

He chuckled, knowing she meant no harm in her sarcastic flattery. To listen to his father, and the many Citadel servants and attendants, talk every overweening word was true. But he had no need for such obsequiousness at any time, and especially not here, in the one place he could lay that mantle down and be merely a man…himself.

"So, Mistress Galena, I gather you are most happy to see me," he parried back. He kept his tone light, praying that his eyes would hide their begging her not to refuse him. He needed her tonight, and would accept no other.

To his surprise, she lowered her eyes, a flush rising up her neck to cover her cheeks in rosy apple red. "You know, in truth, that I am," she whispered discreetly.

Boromir merely nodded, acknowledging her answer, and offered her his arm, where her hand came to rest lightly. As though it belongs there, he thought suddenly. Together, they then disappeared to the apartments at the back of the building, where they could be afforded some privacy.


It was much later in the night, as he lay with Galena in his arms – her stroking her fingers over his broad chest, lightly scratching and teasing his bare skin, curling her body easily into the shelter of his – when Boromir found that the racing of his heart had ceased. He could draw breath again and think clearly of what he must say and do.

"What troubles you, my Lord?" Galena asked at last, lightly touching his brow. "Worry rest heavy on you tonight. You have forestalled me long enough, I think. And though I have enjoyed the forestalling…" she smirked here mischievously, "I would be of help to you, if I can."

Boromir pulled her closer, laying a kiss on her forehead and running a hand through her long cascades of hair, loosed now by his own doing. "Galena, please, must I beg it of you again? Do not call me 'Lord.' I feel it somehow wrong in light of what we have. I do not expect it of you, nor is it necessary to be so formal when we are here alone."

"As you wish," she replied, a pleasured smile gracing her features.

Boromir was quiet again for quite some time, not sure how to explain what disturbed him, or even sure if he should. Finally, he offered simply, "I have been troubled by strange dreams of late. Dreams that I fear speak doom, and my destiny." He sighed heavily, not wishing to say more…he understood little more than that.

"My love," she whispered, now voicing her true feelings, concerned for him. "You are the noblest of men, both strong and brave. I have no doubt that, for you, the Defender of our City, destiny has something great rather than horrible in store." Here, she paused, cupping his face in her hands and staring into his eyes pleadingly. "I must believe it so."

He said nothing after that, only clung to her embrace, not knowing that she shed fearful tears at his words of dreams and strange fortune. Nor that she clung to him as a bastion of strength; as all she had to treasure in the world.