The week passed fairly uneventfully… until Boromir and Faramir ushered Avalain to return to Minas Tirith with them two days before she was supposed to leave. The reality that she would have to leave soon became very real very quickly. Avalain found herself wishing she had more time.
But eventually, the day had to come: the final day of her stay in Gondor. Avalain awoke with a dry throat, her dread and uncertainty looming over her. She was loath to leave Boromir and Faramir, whom she had come to care for very greatly. Even though she would be returning to the Mirkwood—to Legolas and King Thranduíl—it was still hard to say goodbye.
Fortunately, Boromir and Faramir were both strong for her. They were in the dining hall when she arrived, with smiles on their faces as if it were a normal day. They seemed to know how much she needed their strength, because the moment Avalain sat at the table, they began regaling her with tales that set her to laughing.
Once breakfast was over, the brothers implored that they take her around the White Capital of Gondor, one last time. Knowing that it may very well be her last opportunity for a long while, Avalain obliged.
The remainder of the afternoon was just as pleasant as the morning. Despite Faramir's jesting about how the library was sweltering during the spring and summer seasons, the three of them spent their time there, talking away one last afternoon. This time, however, the conversation turned away from silly stories towards things that they would do together when next Avalain was reunited with the brothers. Although the topic was treated merrily and lightly, the She-Elf was very upset by the fact that in less than one day, she would be riding past the great gates of Gondor and not returning for a very long time indeed.
It was Boromir who took a closer look at his friend and murmured, "You look unwell, Avalain. Are you feeling all right?"
"As well as can be," she responded, just a little too lowly, a little too sadly. The uncharacteristic sound made both Boromir and Faramir raise their eyebrows.
It was Faramir who next mused, "You are not doing a very good job of convincing us. Are you worried about the travel back to Mirkwood?"
"No, no, it's not that, it's… nothing," she retorted, looking down. Her eyes darted to the silver ring. The white jewel happily gleamed from her left hand, as if it sensed that she would soon be returning to Mirkwood. Avalain herself was excited for that, she was beyond elated to see Legolas and King Thranduíl again—but in order to reach them, she would be losing her two newfound yet incredibly close friends for an unbearably indefinite amount of time.
Seeing her expression, Boromir gently grasped her hand. Quietly, he asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?"
The She-Elf looked into his brown eyes and noted all there was to see within them: concern, curiosity, care. She knew that he would be the person she would miss the most… throughout the entire City of Gondor, it would be Boromir.
And so, deciding to tell them the utmost truth, Avalain answered, "I simply… I will miss you incredibly. Each day with you has been a new adventure, one I have adored greatly. You two have turned my visit from a political necessity into a joyous eight months that have borne an invaluable friendship. But while my time here has been amazing, I do not know when I shall see you again… I am terrified the war will take you away from me…"
Avalain stopped short as she realized tears were beginning to fill in her eyes. She closed them tightly and lowered her head. She couldn't afford to think like this. It was the last day. She needed to be stronger.
Try as she might, however, she couldn't banish the fear from her mind. What if Boromir and Faramir died in war, without her there, without her able to protect them or even say goodbye?
Just like Fili.
She breathed. In and out. Slowly and methodically. For a minute, she took the necessary pains to recompose herself.
That was when she felt a strong set of arms around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace. Avalain leaned into the gesture, drawing comfort from what she could—she felt warm and safe here, and she could at least appreciate that.
The second set of hands found her right arm and hand, supportively providing a presence. Avalain blinked and looked toward that figure. It was Faramir, who was offering her a wistful half-smile.
"I'm sorry," she heard herself whisper. She felt Boromir release her from the embrace; she sat up and looked between them. "The past sixty years I have struggled to keep my deepest fears in check but… I have made little progress, if any."
"You do not need to apologize for that," responded Faramir softly. "It is only human of you to worry for those whom you care deeply about."
Avalain nodded. She cared for them deeply indeed. How far her affections ran for them she did not quite know—but it was clearly far enough that the mere thought of their deaths caused her to feel faint.
"I do care for you two," she murmured, a light smile ghosting her face. Her eyes travelled from Faramir to Boromir as she continued, "More so than perhaps is good for me."
Boromir chuckled and shook his head. "The feeling is mutual, Avalain."
She smiled shyly and looked away, feeling a slight flush creep into her face.
For a moment longer, this silence reigned throughout the library. Avalain found herself gazing into the fireplace, her eyes flickering with the yellows, oranges, and blues within it. Faramir had been right in saying that the library was sweltering this time of year, but Avalain liked it that way—she enjoyed feeling warm much more so than feeling cold.
The peaceful silence was eventually broken by Faramir, who declared, "Avalain, we have something to tell you."
The She-Elf glanced at him out of the corner of her eye warily. "What is it?"
"Our father is hosting dinner tonight in the foyer as a thanks and a farewell after all you have done for us. We figured it would be best for you to know what you'll be walking into."
This last statement was said with a poorly withheld smirk, which only made Avalain roll her eyes. It was slightly unsettling to know that the Steward of Gondor would be present for this night's dinner, but she was grateful for the warning. Raising an eyebrow, she jokingly asked, "Do I need to wear my finest dress, or am I allowed to show up in my casual wear?" As she said this, she gestured to her simple lavender dress—it had been her favorite throughout the spring season.
"Do whatever makes you feel comfortable," chuckled Boromir. "All I know is that our father has requested we wear our armor."
"Drat," muttered Avalain. Wearing armor usually signified a more formal event. Thus, with a dramatic sigh, the She-Elf exclaimed, "Then it appears I shall have to make myself more presentable. Shall I meet up with you in the foyer in an hour or so, then?"
Faramir laughed at her flippantness and nodded. "Sounds perfect."
Avalain tossed a careless grin at the brothers and rose from the couch, waving in brief farewell. While the thought of leaving still haunted her, Boromir and Faramir had a way of making her feel joyous and carefree, and it did not fail her now.
It was fifty-five minutes later that Avalain found herself ready to progress to the foyer. She was standing in front of the looking-glass in her room one last time, making sure that she seemed presentable for this final dinner with the Steward and his sons.
She gazed across the ruby-red gown that she had chosen. Despite the summer heat, she'd thought that long sleeves would be appropriate—at least there was still room for her shoulders to breathe. She glanced at her hair, pinned up in an admittedly rushed braid, and hoped that it would do. Fili's circlet would hide some of the stray hair that she'd failed to tame.
Avalain watched her reflection as she lightly touched the largest ruby within that circlet. She could almost see him smiling at her in the looking-glass, and she could hear him speak.
"You look positively radiant, Star Lady."
She closed her eyes and smiled painfully. It was still a bittersweet memory.
Without glancing at her reflection again, she spun away from the looking-glass and exited into the hallway.
It was exactly an hour since she had waved Boromir and Faramir farewell in the library that she stood outside the grand oak doors that led into the foyer. She glanced up at them for a moment, forcing herself to breathe and not be intimidated by the fact that the Steward's verdict on the alliance would be taking place during this dinner.
But she shouldn't be worried. This dinner was a thank you; Faramir had said as much. Everything would be fine.
She hoped.
With this thought in mind, Avalain inhaled deeply, pushed the doorway open—and promptly froze.
Standing within the foyer was not only the Lord Denethor and his two sons, but Lieutenant Uthrain, Gryffin, Dalgrad, and all the other close friends she had made during her time at Gondor. They were all clearly waiting for her; it was Gryffin's face she saw light up and his voice she heard exclaim, "Hello there!" before rushing forward, two drinks in his hands as he greeted her at the door.
Avalain laughed, more so out of shock than anything, and gracefully took the drink that was offered to her. She allowed the Man to escort her further inside and towards the black throne at the far side of the room, in front of which stood the Steward of Gondor, dressed in fine robes of navy blue and silver.
As she was moved towards Boromir's and Faramir's father, the She-Elf found herself growing anxious. Everyone's eyes landed on her as she passed, and while she had known about this evening for some time, the knowledge didn't make her feel any more prepared for what was about to happen.
At last, she stood in front of the black throne. Avalain thought it would be safe to bow before the Steward—so she did. She felt the Steward's bright, harsh eyes blaze through the back of her head throughout the gesture, and those eyes met her own whenever she upright herself again.
Lord Denethor smiled, but the kindness suggested by his lips did not reach the depths of his eyes. For a moment, he was silent. That uncomfortable silence lasted only a couple of seconds, but to Avalain it seemed to last much longer.
At last, however, the Steward spoke:
"Avalain Nightshade, you have been among us for eight months. During this short amount of time, you have helped defend the garrison at Osgiliath, you have trained our soldiers, and you have even rebuilt some of our fallen city. You have made a great many friends who have come to appreciate and adore you—all the while attempting to solidify an alliance between the peoples of Elves and Men. You have become a visitor of hope and joy. Thus, we will be most sorry to see you leave us. For this reason, we have all gathered here tonight to wish you a final farewell. You will be missed, my dear."
At the conclusion of his speech, the Steward rose from his chair and took one of Avalain's hands from her sides. Ever so lightly, he barely kissed the tops of her knuckles, and while she knew the gesture was meant in goodwill, the She-Elf couldn't restrain the chill that ran down her spine.
Nonetheless, when the Steward released her hand, Avalain smiled as charmingly as she could and bowed again before him. When she turned around to face the remainder of the ensemble, however, an explosion of applause made her freeze. She hadn't expected such a gesture and was quite at a loss of what to do…
She looked across the two dozen people that had gathered in the room and noticed Lieutenant Uthrain was waving her over—with a relieved sigh, Avalain began to walk towards him. Halfway to her destination, however, she heard a familiar voice declare, "An hour on the dot. Impressive."
The She-Elf laughed and turned around to see Boromir approaching, the same excited smile on his face as was on everyone else's. She couldn't help but notice that he looked incredibly handsome, having donned what seemed to be a celebratory set of armor used only for formal occasions.
Avalain was embarrassed to feel her face turn pink; trying to hide the fact, she looked at the ground. But when Boromir took her hand and murmured, "You look beautiful, Lady Nightshade," it was admittedly difficult to drain the extra color from her face.
She looked up to meet his brown eyes and noted the warmth within them. Much to her relief, he either didn't notice her blush or didn't care that it was present—at this, she felt much better.
"Shall we?" asked her friend, gesturing to the tables around the foyer.
Eagerly, Avalain nodded, ready to sit down and have all the attention be redirected to the banquet that was about to follow. Noticing her slight jitteriness, Boromir chuckled and took her arm, leading her to a seat in between himself and Lieutenant Uthrain.
As soon as they sat down, servants of the Steward emerged from the kitchens and began placing plates of food down across the tables. She was astonished by the amount of vegetarian food—feeling grateful, Avalain immediately jumped upon the opportunity to compose herself a salad of spinach, rutabaga, tomatoes, grapes, and carrots.
A glass of red wine didn't hurt, either.
The dining experience was certainly a change from what Avalain had grown accustomed to in Osgiliath. The soldiers in that outer city were raucous as can be, and never failed to indulge themselves with ale during mealtimes. Drinking songs were a popular commodity as well—but tonight was different. Tonight was oddly civilized, the volume wasn't overly obnoxious… it was, in fact, peaceful.
It almost reminded Avalain of home.
"What is it?"
Avalain looked to her right to see Boromir looking at her sideways, a curious smile on his face.
In reply, the She-Elf chortled and remarked, "This almost feels like Rivendell. Tonight is… quite different from our nights in Osgiliath, isn't it?"
Boromir laughed and nodded, although he did not answer otherwise. Avalain blinked and cocked her head sideways, noticing that Boromir was fidgeting with something in his hands. A flash of light hinted to what it was—and then it was gone.
She blinked and decided to return her attention to her salad.
The remainder of the dinner was strange. For some reason, whenever Avalain attempted to talk to Boromir, he seemed quite distracted. It was almost as if all of her anxiety regarding the evening had been transferred over to him. When she noticed him tapping his fingers on the table, she finally decided to speak up.
"And here I thought I was going to be the nervous one," quipped Avalain, raising both an eyebrow and a forkful of her salad to her mouth. Upon seeing the flash that ran through Boromir's eyes, however, she placed the utensil back down on her plate and softly questioned, "Are you all right? You look ill…"
The longer she gazed at him, the more worried Avalain became. It was clear that something was setting him on edge… Did something happen during the time she'd spent getting ready for the evening?
But her friend just smiled again and murmured, "I'm fine, Avalain. Don't worry about me."
Avalain nodded, although she was slightly disappointed. She wished to help, if she could…
Finally, the hour spent for dinner had passed, and desserts were being passed throughout the table. Avalain was delighted to note the presence of strawberries—upon noticing her penchant for them, Gryffin and Lieutenant Uthrain made sure to save an entire plateful of them for her. This gesture did not go unnoticed by the others; before another minute had passed, Avalain had three platefuls of strawberries sitting in front of her. The sheer mountain of the fruit caused her to throw her head back and all but shriek with laughter before covering her face with her hands.
The final straw, however, was when Faramir decided to rise from his chair two places down and dump a fourth plate of strawberries on top of her already more-than-full plate—they began cascading down the side of the strawberry mountain, landing upon the table, Avalain's dress, Lieutenant Uthrain's lap.
Everyone roared with laughter as Faramir and Avalain attempted to scoop up all the stray berries and put them into an empty bowl so they wouldn't be stepped on and made a mess of. Or at least, everyone was laughing… except for Boromir.
This did not go unnoticed by Avalain. But since none of her words had convinced her dear friend to tell her what plagued him before, she decided not to bother him with her concerns again.
At last, the end of the dinner arrived. It was full dark outside, the starlight and the candlelight being the only way the congregation could see. Everyone was full of good food and wine—contentment was felt throughout the room, and as Avalain gazed among her friends, she felt like she could finally make her peace with leaving. She had the memories of an exceptionally wonderful night to sustain her until she saw them again. And it wouldn't be long, she knew. Perhaps a year or two—but they would still be here. She would see them again.
With this realization, she found herself glancing at the person she knew she would miss the most. When his eyes locked with hers once again, she smiled gently at him but took the utmost care to put all she felt in her expression: happiness, gratitude, concern, care, love.
For the first time since they sat down, Boromir looked like himself again as he returned her look. Before Avalain could decipher all the emotions that were present in his face, however, he took a deep breath and stood, wine glass in hand.
When he tapped the glass with a spoon, the room was immediately quiet. All eyes travelled to the eldest son of the Steward as he gazed around the room and raised his still-full glass.
"A toast," he began, a meaningful look passed among his friends and brethren. "To friendships made within the past eight months, to the battles won, to Osgiliath strengthened, and hope restored. All this we should celebrate, as well as the person who helped to bring it all together."
Avalain felt her eyes sting with grateful tears as Boromir turned to face her, that same helpless grin on his face. Grumbles of assent were passed around—other wine glasses were raised in the air. But Avalain was watching Boromir extend his hand to her, and she did not hesitate to fill the space between them.
"We are here tonight because Avalain has made a difference in our lives. She has believed in us during our darkest hours and taken great care to remind us of who we are as soldiers of Gondor. I cannot speak for everyone here, but I believe many of us would agree that she has changed our lives for the better."
The Men cheered at that; Avalain even heard Dalgrad yell, "Hear, hear!"
She found herself giggling at the praise and squeezed Boromir's hand. Her friend turned back to look at her as he breathed again and continued.
"While it has only been a short while, Avalain, there can be no doubt that you've won our affections. We have grown to love you as we would a sister, a close friend, a fellow soldier. But… I confess you have left a different mark on me."
Avalain blinked and cocked her head sideways, staring at him, wondering what he meant. Yet as she looked into his eyes and saw his sincerity, the depth of his adoration—she recalled how he had acted throughout the night, the nervous quirks she'd never before seen—
"I can hardly imagine life without you. Everything about you, your ability to love unconditionally, your unending compassion, your persistence in bringing good to the world, I have grown to love and adore. While tonight may be farewell, it does not have to be a night of sadness or despair."
Before the words were even said, Avalain felt her mouth drop open in complete astonishment.
"With your blessing, our next reunion would be our last. I love you, Avalain, and I would be beyond honored to spend the remainder of my days by your side, if you wish for the same."
Everything crashed into place with this last sentence: the formality of the event, the date the event had been chosen, the anxiety he'd experienced throughout the evening.
It had all been planned.
Time stopped. Avalain gazed into Boromir's eyes and could see for herself how deeply he did love her. And she cared about him too, she did—but she was still healing from her first lost love. If she said yes, she wasn't sure if she could love him as fully as he deserved. But she didn't even know if she wanted to be married within the next number of years…
That was when Boromir revealed what he held in his other hand. Avalain was brought back to the present as she found herself looking at a golden bracelet with a beautiful diamond in the middle of it.
"May I?" he murmured.
Avalain exhaled sharply but somehow managed to smile. She prayed it didn't look like a grimace—she was just caught so off-guard…
As Boromir returned her hopeful look and began sliding the bracelet around her wrist, Avalain's eyes fell upon the Steward of Gondor, who was watching the exchange with clasped hands and narrowed eyes. She took the briefest of moments to assess his expression… he looked thoroughly invested in what was occurring before him, but it did not appear that he was invested for the purpose of his son's engagement. There was something else.
The Steward noticed that she was looking at him quizzically. He raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his seat, an emotionless smile slowly but surely spreading across his face.
And it was in that moment that Avalain realized: he hadn't solidified the alliance.
Now she knew why.
This was the final test. Her final test. Would she marry his beloved son in order to cement the alliance between Elves and Men? Would she prove that she was willing to do anything, even promise her hand in marriage, to unite the Free Peoples of Middle-earth?
Avalain swiftly began to anger, wondering if Boromir and his wretched father had planned this the entire time—but when she looked back at her dear friend once again, she immediately knew that he had had no part in it. He simply loved her, deeply and truly, and as all the memories they'd shared flew through her mind again, she realized it had been there all along. She had just… never seen it.
Realizing that she was expected to say something, Avalain opened her mouth… only to laugh uneasily and throw a hand to cover her lips.
"I must admit I'm caught a little off-guard," she hiccupped.
Boromir chuckled and lowered his gaze—Avalain followed it. He had gently placed the bracelet upon her wrist, and as she drank in its presence, she noticed the diamond glimmered buoyantly at her.
But her eyes also landed on the silver ring… the parting gift from Legolas.
Could she do it? Could she carry out Gandalf's bidding by marrying a man she cared about, while being unsure of whether she wanted to marry him?
Do whatever you can, he had said.
She… could do this, if she had to.
Avalain smiled back at her friend and began to say, "Boromir… I—I would be—"
The door to the foyer slammed open, and an unexpected but more than welcome voice shouted, "Avalain!"
Everyone whirled around to see who had just entered. But Avalain didn't even need to turn to know who it was.
It was Gandalf.