Chapter 28
Boromir was concerned, though he tried to keep it hidden. He feared it would only upset Melody more if she knew of his concern for her. That was where the elf had failed. He had shown too much of his concern, and to Melody that was a mark of her own weakness. The last thing she had ever wanted was to feel weak or be perceived as such by anyone else, striving always to be an equal in a world she barely understood. And for the most part she had succeeded. She had changed, adapted, become so much more than the lost, frightened girl Boromir had found wandering the woods of Rivendell.
But knowing this about her did not mean that he was not still concerned. Nor did it mean that he knew the right way to ascertain the source of whatever was troubling her. For she was troubled, that much was clear. She had been retreating slowly from everyone around her, even Pippin whom she loved so dearly, and Boromir felt a pang of guilt that he had not noticed it sooner. He had been drawn away too often, by his post and his duty, leaving her in the care of her new guardians, whom he trusted but could not be expected to know everything of her. Though it was clear the sons of Elrond cared for Melody, it had been many weeks since they had last spent time together. They simply did not know her as Boromir did.
But even he was at a loss to determine the root of Melody's distress. He hesitated to even brooch the subject, for fear of pushing her even farther away. But he resolved to make himself more available to her in the hope that, when she felt it was time to reveal the source of her melancholy, she would come to him. He felt confident that she would come to him, when she was ready. His confidence only faltered when he considered the possibility that she might wait until it was too late for him to help her. But he pushed these worries aside as quickly as they arose. He loved her and he trusted her judgment. He would wait until she came to him, because that was what she needed him to do.
So in the days following their skirmish he stayed close to her side as much as possible, waiting for the time to come when she might need him. But Legolas seemed to have reached the same conclusions, and in much shorter time than he. The elf had been keeping close to Melody all this time, unfettered by duty or responsibilities, and it grated on Boromir's nerves. The weight of his mother's ring swinging from his belt made him anxious for time alone with Melody, something that neither propriety nor the elf-prince seemed willing to allow him. Despite Melody's assurances, Boromir knew a rival when he saw one and it irked him. However, he did not dare make his irritation known. It would do nothing to strengthen his standing in Melody's affections, only make it appear that he didn't trust her, something which was completely untrue. So he managed to keep his peace… at least, until they reached the Morannon.
The forests of Ithilien came to an abrupt end on the fourth day of their march, and the army of the West was faced with nothing but unending plains of black rock and ash as far as even elven eyes could see. The chill of the Nazgul presence hung like a damp cloud in the air, a steady drizzle of dread that couldn't be seen, only felt. The men stopped and when Boromir glanced behind him, he saw so many frightened faces, so many men who had not expected this. And he knew that he could not rally their spirits. Not even the Horn of Gondor, the symbol of his family's power for generations, would be enough to bring back the courage of these men.
Then out of the silence, Aragorn's voice rang out.
"If there are those of you who would travel no further, go! But keep what honor you may and do not run! There is a task which you may attempt and so be not wholly shamed. Take your way southwest until you come to Cair Andros, and if that is still held by enemies as I think, then retake it if you can, and hold it to the last in defense of Gondor and Rohan!"
There was a murmur among the men, some quickly taking up their arms and gathering together to the southwest, preparing to make their way to the stronghold at Cair Andros. But there were a few for whom Aragorn's words seemed to have resolved them otherwise. Their faces hardened and their stances became that of braver men who would not turn away, not even to an honorable charge. Boromir felt his heart swell with pride for these men. He hoped they would live to see the results of their courage.
He caught a glimpse of Melody's face, sad but resolved, as her gaze swept over the men that remained in their company. She knew what he knew also, that most would not survive this march. And he felt a sudden impulsive desire to send her with the others, to the southwest, to Cair Andros. Though it was held by the Enemy it could be no worse than that which they went to meet. But he managed to hold his tongue, for he knew that she would not go. He could see it in the set of her jaw, the way she held her shoulders, the brief spark in her lovely eyes. It was a look he knew very well, a look of fierce determination that would not be swayed. Anything he said or did to move her would be a wasted gesture.
Legolas however, seemed not to recognize it. The elf edged his mount up on Melody's other side and leaned toward her.
"Mel," he murmured, so low that even Boromir could barely hear, "Perhaps you might serve better along the southwest road. The trees could…"
But he was cut off by the flash of fire in Melody's eyes as her head snapped toward him. Boromir recognized that look as well, knew what sort of explosion might result if the situation were not doused in some way.
"Melody…" he cautioned, hesitantly.
Her furious eyes whirled toward him, burning viciously. He held up a hand, attempting to ward off her anger before she lashed out at him.
"I am sure Legolas only means to settle your mind. You have been quite remote of late."
"Yes, your mind is not at all where it should be," Legolas broke in eagerly, causing her glare to swing his way once more, "Perhaps holding Cair Andros…"
Boromir tried to stop him, but it was far too late for that.
"You want me to run?" she snapped, "I came all this way, and you think I'm just gonna turn back? Now? After… After everything I've…"
She bit back whatever angry words had been on her tongue, a mixed look of anger and horror on her face. Only now did the elf seem to realize his mistake. Boromir could see his mind working behind those large blue eyes, trying to think of a way to remedy his error, but Melody did not give him the chance. She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a dangerous murmur.
"I wouldn't turn back now if Sauron himself came out to face me. For better or worse, elf-prince, you're stuck with me."
Her choice of words struck Boromir a fierce blow. So casually spoken, but for Boromir they were layered with more meaning than Melody could ever know. For better or worse… marriage vows. And she had spoken them to Legolas. No matter how angrily she had meant them, the words spoken to his rival made a part of him very angry, not at Melody, for how could she know the impact of her words? No, in lieu of any real target for his anger, he directed it instead toward the recipient of those words, toward Legolas.
It boiled just under the surface of his thoughts as they made camp there at the edge of the desolation. He found himself reliving all the grievances of the elf upon not only himself, but upon Melody. Pressing his lips to her scar on the fields of Pelennor, his insistence on continuing this subtle courtship of her even after her rejection, his persistence in being present during every moment of their precious time together. All of these things seemed to build up and expand until they filled every part of Boromir's mind.
And then these swirling thoughts seemed to culminate into one furious revelation. Was it possible that Melody's troubled mind was, at least in part, due to this petty rivalry? Her melancholy and subsequent withdrawal had begun in Minas Tirith, following the elf's return. And Boromir knew that, though Melody treasured all of her friends, she cared for none so much as Legolas. If she were forced to break ties with him over something such as this, it would break her heart.
The possibility that this ridiculous conflict between himself and the elf might be the cause of Melody's recent distress resolved Boromir's mind. It was unacceptable. Something had to be done. And he had always been a man of action.
That evening, after they had dined and in a moment when Melody was safely ensconced in conversation with Pippin, he took the elf's elbow so he would be sure to have his attention.
"I need to speak with you," he said in a low voice.
Legolas smiled amiably, as if nothing in the wide world were amiss.
"Of course, my friend. What would you like to discuss?"
Boromir's eyes darted to Melody, who was now looking at them both with a slightly worried expression on her face.
"Not here," he said, his voice still low.
Legolas followed his eyes, and then nodded.
"As you wish."
They left the tent together and Boromir began to walk briskly through the camp, Legolas easily keeping pace with him. The night was cool, but the heavy veil of fear that came from Nazgul's watchful eyes made the air feel oppressive. Or perhaps it was the weight of Boromir's thoughts that made it seem so. After several long moments of silence, Legolas spoke.
"Now, what is it that you would say to me, Boromir, that you would not have reach Mel's ears?"
Boromir kept walking. If Melody had followed them, he did not want her to catch up.
"It is about Melody that I wish to speak."
"Ah, have you finally noticed it then?" Legolas asked, "For one who claims to care so deeply for her, it has taken you an awfully long while to notice her shift in disposition."
The trite tone of his voice, edged with disdain, sparked a fury in Boromir's chest, but he managed to contain it.
"I have been aware of Melody's distress for some time. I had thought it best to wait for action until such time as she deemed it necessary to come to me with her burden. However, it has recently occurred to me that the source of her melancholy might be between us."
Legolas shook his head, "I don't what you could possibly mean."
"Don't you?" Boromir snapped, "You must be aware that your actions since your return to us have been a cause for friction. Have you thought through the consequences of your continued persistence in pursuing Melody's affection? Have you thought of what it might mean to her?"
"I am aware of no such thing," Legolas insisted stubbornly, "And as for considering consequences, have you considered your own, Boromir? For from where I stand, only one of us has ever given Mel cause to question his affection, and it certainly is not me. Perhaps if you had loved her all along…"
It was then that Boromir lost his temper. He whirled about and his fist connected solidly with the elf's jaw. Legolas stumbled back, but Boromir caught the front of his tunic and jerked him upright.
"I have always loved her!" he shouted, "My love for her has triumphed through madness, shame, and utter despair! You can never love her as I do! Never!"
He shoved the elf away and turned for a moment to collect himself, his chest heaving with a heavy, burning rage. It would not do to draw a crowd. Besides, Melody would be very upset if she knew they had been fighting.
When he finally felt he had control of his emotions once more, he turned back. Legolas was staring at him, his fingers absently touching the place where Boromir's blow had landed. His face had become an emotionless mask, an expression that his kind seemed to have spent millennium perfecting.
"You have her heart, Legolas," Boromir said, feeling the words come to him albeit reluctantly, "You must know this. It may not be in such a way as you would like, but you have it none the less. You are her most trusted friend; to part from you would destroy her. Is that not enough?"
For a long moment, Legolas did not speak. Then, finally, a small, reluctant smile touched his lips, softening his expression as he shook his head.
"Of course," he murmured, almost to himself, "I am such a fool, of course you wouldn't understand. The race of Men can be so narrow-minded, particularly in matters such as this…"
Boromir could feel his anger rising again, but before he could respond, Legolas met his eyes.
"I love her, Boromir."
His heart froze in his chest, as if a cold flame had encased it in ice, refusing to allow it to beat. His limbs were rigid, held back from violence only by the sheer force of his will, and Legolas seemed to perceive this, for he held up a hand, as if to fend off another attack.
"I love her," Legolas repeated, "But not in the way you have perceived it."
The thin strength of Boromir's resolve began to weaken. He could feel his fists begin to tremble at his side.
"Orenyanil."
The unfamiliar word, coupled with the desperate expression on Legolas' face, swayed Boromir's rising temper. He swallowed and reminded himself that Melody would not want them to fight.
"Orenyanil," Legolas repeated, "In the Common tongue it might translate into something like 'friend of my heart'. But to the Eldar it is… something more. I love her, Boromir, with the same strength as you. She is precious to me beyond measure, though it took our separation for it to become clear to me. But I do not desire her, beyond the wish that she be safe and well and happy."
Boromir stared at the elf. Some small part of him feared a trick, a ploy of some kind to lure him into complacency. But another part, a part that remembered the days of the Fellowship, the days before his madness, remembered also that Legolas was, above all else, his friend. When had he forgotten this, lost in his anger, his jealousy? The elf's earnest blue eyes were not the eyes of a trickster, they were the eyes of a companion who cared as much for the one he loved as he did, who would never intentionally do her harm, had protected her even from Boromir himself, was even now endeavoring to protect her. And Boromir, in his foolishness, had done so little to recommend himself to the one who held her in as much regard as he did himself.
Without knowing precisely why, he found his hand strayed to the pouch hung from his belt, working open the string and drawing from it the weight that had been his constant companion since their departure from Minas Tirith. He hesitated, and then opened the box lid, revealing the glint of silver and blue that rested inside, glimmering in the dim light of the campfires. He saw the same light reflected in the clear blue of Legolas' eyes as the elf regarded the ring with an expression of forced indifference. Boromir waited until those eyes rose to meet his own once more.
"So," Legolas said, his voice measured and controlled, "This is your intention?"
Boromir nodded, "It is."
"And it is your belief that she will consent?"
Those blue eyes narrowed briefly, his stance defensive, prepared to argue, to bring to light all of the reasons Boromir was unworthy of such an honor, all of his faults and mistakes. But Boromir knew all of these things. He was as uncertain as anyone what Melody's answer would be. So he answered honestly.
"I do not know. I know only that she is everything to me, Legolas. Without her, I am nothing."
Legolas considered these words very carefully, his eyes intense as blue flame in the dark. After several long moments, his stance relaxed marginally.
"Very well," he said, "If it is truly your intention to ask for Mel's hand, I will not keep you from it."
He held out his hand and after a moment, Boromir took it. Legolas held his grip for several moments.
"I know that she loves you," the elf said, his tone calm and factual, "And I would not wish to lose the bond of friendship that has grown between us all. So I will speak one final warning, Boromir of Gondor: Should you harm my orenyanil, in any way…"
His grip on Boromir's hand tightened briefly, like an iron band, before he released his hold, a small, but feral grin turning up his lips.
"You do not know the wrath of the Eldar, my friend."
Boromir dropped his hand and nodded his understanding. He had seen Legolas' wrath in the forest of Lothlorien, though he had not understood it then. It was swift and cold, with deadly precision, and he never wished to see it again. But if harm should come to Melody, by his hand or any other, he would welcome the elf's judgment and gladly. For without Melody, his life would lose meaning. Without Melody, there was nothing.
He turned and left the elf, the weight of the bag on his belt swinging in time to his step, as if counting out the rhythm of his anxious heartbeat, beating only for her.
A/N: "Orenyanil" is a word I constructed using my limited knowledge of Quenya, and loosely translated it means "my heart (inner mind) friend". I've taken it to mean something a bit like a soulmate, but with no romantic attachment. I've always believed that elves have different definitions of love than us, and it has always been my intention that this is how Legolas feels for Mel, but in previous iterations of this story it was difficult for me to express this. I hope this clears up some things about their relationship :)
