November 15th 3018
Since I'm apparently not allowed to hang with Arwen anymore, I sought other amusements today.
The dwarves were busy deriding the elvish metalworkers, so that option was out, and Aragorn still seemed pretty pissed at breakfast this morning- so I'm pretty much stuck with either the elves, who think I'm a dirty-minded deviant, or the hobbits, who I'm convinced are Sauron's most devious weapon.
I went with the hobbits- Sauron's better than Elrond's eyebrows.
They usually had afternoon tea in one of the small rooms near the dining hall, eating cakes, drinking that tea stuff and smoking with Gandalf. Remembering my previous encounters with pipeweed, I chose a seat near the door where the breeze would free me from the smoke, and actually spent quite a pleasant afternoon chatting with the evil little creatures.
Surprisingly enough, they're quite cheerful for demon spawn and the cakes were delicious. I ended up eating quite a few while the five of them regaled me with tales of the Shire and the bizarre happenings therein- not once did they attack me or display the cruelty I know they hold in secret. I'm starting to think that this whole quest-to-destroy-the-One-Ring thing might not be so bad, if they continue to play nice.
November 20th 3018
Ai, Elbereth.
The last thing I remember is afternoon tea with the hobbits on the 16th… Gandalf was late, so I was forced to shove along the bench and was subsequently trapped at the back of the windowless room inhaling pipeweed smoke. After that it all kind of fades out…
What day is it?
"It's the twentieth of November, 'rommy."
Um. Who the hell was that?
I roll over to discover Arwen, sitting placidly and embroidering.
I'm not wearing any clothes.
She's wearing a nightgown.
We're in the same bed.
WHAT THE HELL?
My brain is swirling with so many more useful questions, but the one that pops out is, "Why did you call me 'rommy?"
She chuckled, but didn't look up from her cloth. "It's what you said I should call you. You said I had earned it."
I really don't want to think about what kind of situation would make me say that, but I kind of need to in order to know how soon Aragorn is going to arrive and kill me horribly.
"What exactly did you did to earn it?" I asked cautiously.
Arwen laughed again. "What didn't we do?" She finally looked at me, examining my face curiously. "You really don't remember anything, do you?"
I shook my head mutely.
"Well," she began, "You were pretty messed up with all that pipeweed you inhaled, but you spent most of Tuesday- that was the sixteenth- doing really random stuff around Imladris and basically causing chaos."
I winced, but indicated that she should continue.
"And after you finished dyeing Legolas' hair purple, you were streaking through the library, found me and tossed me over your shoulder, carrying me off to this unused guardhouse near the border of Imladris to presumably have your way with me."
I turned to fully face her, apology written across my features. "Lady Arwen, I am so sorry for whatever things I may have done- I assure you they were entirely the fault of that evil drug that I accidentally inhaled and I can never apologise enough for the indignities I forced upon you."
Arwen held up her hand to stop my rambling flow of heartfelt remorse. "Calm down, Lord Boromir. The fault lies entirely with me- in fact, you were simply trying to braid flowers into my hair when you brought me here. It was I that started our activities and I that continually surrounded you with pipeweed smoke to keep you properly insensible- oh, don't look at me like that. I'm over twenty-seven centuries old and I've spent most of that time imagining the kind of activities that made you blush- and I damn well know an opportunity when I see one. Aragorn's the kind of guy who thinks sex has a menu with only one item, and I'm into way more variation than that. I'm giving up my immortality for him, so this was my last chance to fulfil those fantasies before I die. Nobody will ever know."
I stared at her.
"Could you stop looking at me like that? It's a little weird."
"You intentionally kept me drugged in order to rape me and fulfil your twisted fantasies?"
She shrugged. "When you put it like that, it sounds awful. But yes, I did."
"But that's awesome! How come I can't remember any of it?"
Arwen shrugged again. "You did mention that the pipeweed tended to leave you without your memories."
I turned to face the wall.
"So I just spent five days having incredible, kinky sex with the most beautiful woman in the world and I can't remember a thing?"
"You are a flatterer," she said, smiling mockingly at me.
"Don't be facetious, Arwen. You're the best looking thing to walk on Arda since Luthien, and that's an objective fact."
She just grinned and worked at her needlework.
A thought occurred to me. "Won't Aragorn notice when you two get married and you're not… intact?"
"Oh, he's pretty oblivious."
"Arwen, no man is that oblivious."
"Boromir, I'm been here for over two millennia. In that time, I've done plenty of things that could have broken my hymen, none of them men- bar you."
"You sure he'll believe that."
"Who do you think you're talking to? I'll just take my clothes off and he'll stop in his tracks. Besides which, I'm Arwen Undomiel. I'm practically the cast mold for 'virtuous maiden' and I'm the daughter of Elrond 'Overprotective Father' Half-Elven to boot. I could tell him that I've never before seen myself naked before and he'd believe me."
"Huh. He really is gullible, isn't he?"
"Oh, yeah. Anyway, we should probably get back to Imladris. If anybody asks, you braided my hair and then I did embroidery while you were getting over the worst of the drug, too ill to move. Agreed?"
I grinned roguishly at her. "You don't think we could do it again, so I'll have something to remember?"
She just raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "What do you think?"
I sighed. "No."
"That's right."
"So nobody will ever know?"
"Nobody will ever know."
"What if somebody finds out?"
"Nobody will find out."
I looked at her intently. "How can you be so sure?"
She sighed somewhat resignedly and replied, "How would they find out? I'm not going to tell anybody and you can't remember, so any accusations you make will be utterly baseless."
"Aragorn will still be pretty pissed off if I accidentally let something slip," I pointed out.
Arwen picked at her nails, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "I have... had some foresight. About you."
"And?"
She looked even more uncomfortable. "You don't tell anybody."
I chuckled at that. "So what, you had a vision of me dying and attempting unsuccessfully to say it on my deathbed?"
Her eyes were firmly on her hands when she replied, "Something like that."
There was an awkward silence for a while, as Arwen avoided my gaze and I wondered where my clothes had gone.
The Elf spoke first. "Besides, I'm not the one people should be looking to for impurity, Lord Boromir- or should I say… Don Juan?"
I wanted to smack myself in the forehead. "How much do you know?"
She chuckled in a decidedly evil manner. "A better question would be: what can't I blackmail from you now?"
"Oh shit."
Arwen just nodded smugly.
"So… you don't tell and I don't tell? Sound like a plan?"
She shrugged. "I guess." There was a pause. "Do you ever wonder how many illegitimate children you've fathered over the years?"
I scratched my head. "I try to think of it as my enrichment of the common genepool, but it never sounds terribly good whichever way you look at it. I tend to end up travelling through the town again and always make sure that anybody in the family way is well provided for before I move on, which is more than most absent fathers can say. I usually buy them a small farm or give them a big enough dowry so that another man will overlook the pregnancy and they can get married- whichever ends up being most effective." I stared uncomfortably at the sheet. "There's no handy herb that can prevent that kind of thing, but I always accept responsibility for the result."
Arwen appeared contemplative as she tilted her head towards me. "Is it fair on the women?"
"I suppose not, but it was always their choice to bed me in the first place." I avoided her gaze. "There's a lot more responsibility on women than on men when it comes to sex, I guess, but there's not much I could do about it."
"You wouldn't get married again?"
"That wouldn't be fair on my wife, would it? I'm away all the time on patrols, missions or inspections- there's constantly a risk of me dying what with being on the front line all the time. I would have to love a woman to marry her, but then I wouldn't marry her because I couldn't do that to somebody I loved. The way it is now, they don't expect me to come back so when I do, it's always a welcome surprise. I can spread my wealth around a bit, enrich some dying towns- it's better than the alternative. Nobody gets attached, nobody gets hurt, and when I die in some battle against unsurmountable odds, I won't leave behind a grieving widow."
I risked a glance at Arwen, and realised that her eyes were glimmering with tears. "Are you crying?"
"It's just," she sniffed, "That must be such a lonely existence, to have nobody to love."
I shrugged. "I have Faramir, and Father," I offered.
She waved her hand dismissively. "You know what I mean," she scolded. "The kind of love where you know somebody better than you know yourself, where you know their flaws and love them anyway, where just hearing their voice seems to make everything better in the world- the kind of love that Aragorn and I share."
I really hate sappy romantic stuff, so I immediately cut in with, "And yet I'm the one you're in bed with."
"Shut up. This is just sex, and you were drugged out of your mind the whole time anyway."
"Aren't Elves supposed to think that sex is marriage?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.
Arwen shrugged. "As far as you know, all this is just a massive prank by Erestor to get back at you."
"What did I do to Erestor?"
"I'm not sure what happened before you guys came back within view of Rivendell, but when you did, you had somehow captured and put a harness on a Warg- you know, those vicious, wild and evil creatures in league with the Orcs- and were riding it bareback and naked, with a long vine in your hand that you were whipping Erestor with as you chased him, also naked, screaming, "Dance, bitch, dance." It was unbelievably amusing but he was incredibly pissed off, and he's vowed revenge."
I mulled over this. "But why would Erestor design a prank that could potentially ruin your reputation?"
She shrugged again. "Why would a highly respected, virtuous elven maiden like me sleep with the most conveniently-available Man?"
"None of this makes sense, actually. Is this all just some mindfuck by the author Eru?"
I turned to Arwen. "Do you know?"
She just grinned in response. "And why would I tell you something like that, when I'm so enjoying your confusion?"
I turned away with a scowl and she mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "It's not like this is just to make you feel better before your imminent death or anything…"
"What was that?"
"What? Oh, nothing."
