What Went Unspoken

Chapter Nine: A Helpless Sense of Foreboding

Galena wished there was a way for her letters to reach Boromir, instead of having to wait until his return to give them all to him, when they were no longer most needed. She still hoped the letters would refresh him when he read them, would strengthen a brave but tired heart with feelings so deep she feared to utter them aloud in his presence. She had known for years, since the very night she met him, that she loved this brash, captivating, powerful Captain-General dedicated to fighting a losing battle. Though she had feared for a long time that he would move on to someone more suited to a man of his station and importance, or that she would lose him to the sword or arrow of one of Gondor's many foes, the idea that she almost knew he would eventually bring her pain could not temper or diminish her loving ardor.

She loved him despite his pride, despite his failings, despite the assurances and certainties he could not give her, just as she knew he loved her despite her reputation, her past, and her social standing which should not have even allowed her to speak to him directly – much less call him her own, her love, her heart's true match and mirror. She had not been blessed with foresight, and in truth had always imagined such a gift would be more curse than blessing. However, she wished now, waiting endlessly as days passed without her knowing where Boromir was, nor how he fared, that she could be granted a glimpse of the future. Borormir had told her more than once that Faramir, his brother, sometimes was granted such sight in his dreams, and she suddenly, desperately wished she were acquainted with Lord Faramir as well; that she could go to him and beg him tell her all of his vision, the Quest that should rightfully have been his to take, and if he knew aught of Boromir, whom they both loved.

But there was no way she could do such a thing. She knew that Boromir guarded what they had jealously – a precious secret, just one thing that was his alone. When with her, Boromir could be merely himself – not a soldier, or the Captain-General, or the Steward's favored son. He wanted no one else to have anything to do with their relationship, for fear it would be ruined or snatched away. Galena knew that perhaps she should be hurt or offended, thinking that he hid her from shame, but she understood. Instead, he treasured what they had so much that he wanted nothing to change it or threaten it. Until he was a man free from war and shadows, and could try to make a life with the one he loved, he wanted nothing to stand between the two of them.

So she struggled to carry out her daily tasks and routines; to smile for the men in the tavern at night, to cook, sew, wash, sweep, and mend whatever needed doing and tried only to think of her love's safe return to her side. Sometimes, she looked up from pouring an ale, thinking she would see him ducking to enter the establishment's door, laughing with a comrade-in-arms, a twinkle in his eye as he came toward her, his distinctive laugh ringing out as she'd blush when he pulled her close. But it never turned out to be him when she looked up and saw some other soldier laughing or trying fruitlessly to catch her eye. When this happened, she was swept again by the unsettling feeling of foreboding. She had no distinct vision, nor foreknowledge, but she felt he was struggling; lost or confused or simply needing his home and her arms. Countless times she wished she had just quitted the White City and gone with him, but she knew he would never have allowed it, not when he didn't even want Faramir to attempt the endeavor. It would have been worthless for her to even try arguing with him.

On the fifth day that Boromir had been gone, his younger brother Faramir came into her tavern and sat at one of her tables. Though Galena had never seen him closer than at a distance in ceremonies or parades, she recognized him immediately, mainly due to his resemblance to Boromir. Though he was of a slighter build than his brother, and quieter – not magnetically attracting the attention of all in his presence, but instead staying deep in conversation with the few he had entered with, all dressed as he was in the garb of the Ithilien Rangers. He had a noble brow, the same rare grey eyes – a trait of Numenorean descent – and a deep, studious, and wise bearing. Galena knew Boromir was smarter and learned as much as he needed to be , but he had no great love of books and lore. He had often spoken of how he and Faramir differed in that, and Galena found herself almost drawn across the crowded room toward the younger son of Denethor, wanting desperately to talk to him, to beg him to tell her if his learning, his visions, his familial connection, any of it, could tell her anything about how it fared with the man she loved.

But Faramir did not know her, would not realize who she was or why she needed to know. Nor would he approve of his brother's choice in companion, were she to even choose to go against Boromir's wishes and introduce herself. So, she kept her distance, teeth clamped down tight on her lips to hold in all her unasked questions and desire to be near someone close to Boromir, even if just by birth and association.

If only she could make her worry and sense of foreboding go away, or find out if someone else felt it too…