Chapter 45:

Wizard of the Grey Order

Author's Note: You know? Sometimes I feel like I'm an evil, evil person with no heart or soul. I suspect myself of such evil whenever I write chapters and scenes like the ones depicted here in particular. I guess if this keeps you all vaguely entertained, then I'm doing my job right! Anyway, hope you enjoy this little side quest. I think this is the general theme of this story is all the side quests that are in it. The addition of this particular side quest allowed me to find a purpose for Boromir since I'm stilly currently trying to work out exactly what I'm going to do with him in this story. Don't you just hate it when the characters and plot take on a mind of their own and assert themselves over my will? The original outline had been written for Boromir to die and then the Fellowship left Lorien with Ara in tow. While Aragorn clearly suspected there was an issue with Boromir, he hadn't quite understood the full gravity of it. Ara being another pair of eyes - relatively fresh and less trusting - allowed her to change the direction of his character to where I have it now.

Now, there is a sequel currently being stewed around in my head. I have an inkling of an idea for what I'd like to do with Boromir in said sequel, but a great deal of that is up to the full circle of Boromir's character. It very well may be that I'll do something about this unplanned anomaly later on or decided that Boromir's place isn't in any weird sequels and leave it at that.

Anyway, please enjoy and don't be afraid to leave a few criticisms here and there. The things I've forgotten about Tolkien's world can certainly fill several books :3!

One of the things Boromir had forgotten about Rohan was that it was filled with grass that stretched miles upon miles around him and showed little variation in landscape. Needless to say, he had no idea where he was in the land and wouldn't have any inkling to the direction if he his new comrades hadn't been following the clear path laid by the multitude of orcs charging toward Orthanc. Had Boromir been less grave with melancholy, he would have found it curiously humorous that the outlander wizard, Mafortion, was the one leading himself and five men of Rohan across those very plains to whichever obscure hiding place the enemy hid his queen.

Mafortion of the Grey Order of Wizards who hailed from Earth was himself an enigma. His skin was like the light reddish-brown of the Haradrim and his hair just as dark. Yet, his ears were pointed like an elf's and his eyes were an emerald green that clearly glittered with expression. There were moments when the man displayed dramatics that constantly made Boromir fight to keep himself from rolling his eyes at the wizard's ridiculous display. When those moments passed, the man became quiet and contemplative. His eyes became distant as if he didn't see what was directly before him. Boromir supposed that was the case though he still barely understood how "looking through the matter of the world" could actually be possible. When he'd attempted to get a straighter answer, he'd been met with laughter.

"I could break down into the complex mathematics of it all and leave your mind a numbed, confused mess! Let the scholars and philosophers divine the workings of the known universe, Lord Boromir. Anything more than simple explanations will only serve to confuse you and I'd prefer that brawny brain of yours remain focused on the task at hand," Mafortion said.

He hadn't known whether he should have been insulted by the wizard's words or accepting them as fact. It wasn't too far of a stretch for anyone to pin Boromir as a less than ideal scholar. Such pursuits remained solely for the necessary politics and histories to best understand battle tactics and strategy. Anything beyond that wasn't within his interest. Let it not be said that Boromir was a stupid man! He was good at executing certain aspects of Gondorian law and he was particularly skilled in the art of war. True scholarly pursuits had always been Faramir's strength and his father hadn't valued them enough to be sure they were sufficiently instilled in the elder brother for the maximum benefit of the realm.

Boromir pulled a face at the thought of his father. The man had shown favoritism towards Boromir since the day Faramir had been born. He never understood why that was. Their mother hadn't died birthing him, but had withered away - as he'd understood it - in the confines of the city and the horrors of Mordor that had continuously plagued them since before Boromir was birthed. Madness seemed to consume Lord Denethor since her death and it only grew worse as Boromir and Faramir grew into manhood.

I wonder what sort of despair my death would have driven him to? He thought.

Even so, Boromir suspected that the escalation of the war would still cause his father's mind to deteriorate further and he feared what he would find of the man when he returned to Gondor. Further, he feared his father's ire once he knew of the quest to destroy the One Ring and that Boromir, in the end, never took the Ring of Power for himself and no longer desired anything but its destruction.

Such a fate for that black magic trinket was the thing he desired most in life at that present time. Nothing would give him more satisfaction than to see Frodo and Sam stumble out of the Gates of Mordor having completed their quest. Boromir would take them both into the palace at Minas Tirith and subject them to every care and hospitality the city could offer. A chance to atone for his actions against Frodo concerning The Ring was also on Boromir's heart.

Remembering that moment also brought forth the question that had long been on Boromir's mind. Aracasse's words of power that placed such a great purpose on Boromir's shoulders. What had they done to him? Boromir hadn't paid much heed to the queen's explanation of the wizard, but he had listened long enough to know that the man's name was Mafortion - or Maf to his friends - and that he was a learned man of high esteem. It was likely that the Grey One would know more than the suppositions of the others and have the ability to give Boromir some sense of it all. The inquiry was always on the tip of his tongue, but he found that he couldn't quite bring himself to ask. Shame permeated that thought like a cancer. It reminded him that this Mafortion seemed to approve of him on some level.

"You seem concerned about something," the grey wizard remarked as their horses cantered across the grassy plains.

Boromir glanced at him and steered his steed closer to the wizard. Eomer's men rode far enough behind them that conversation was difficult to hear, but he didn't want anything to be overheard. The men of Rohan respected him and it wouldn't do the mission well for Boromir to reveal that he wasn't worthy of it.

"I made a grave, personal error that heralded many misfortunes to come upon our company. One of them is the capture of our hobbit friends and your apprentice," Boromir explained. "Before her capture, Aracasse found me and placed a great purpose on me. I know not what it has done to me, but I feel strange as if I have stopped but time continues to pass around me."

Mafortion was silent for a stretch. Boromir feared he hadn't heard, but one look at the man's contemplative expression assured him such wasn't the case.

"What were the words?" Mafortion asked.

"You've betrayed your friends for power. Power will hold you until you discover that which is more precious than it," Boromir recited.

"Ah, don't tell me the whole of it. I don't need to know to tell you the effects," said the wizard. "She didn't coin the words or place the geas on you. The Almighty inspired in her a curse, a prophecy, and a blessing to be placed on you as a way to atone for your crime. Until you fulfill the requirements for atonement - until you learn to let go of your power - you will not age, you cannot become ill, you won't die of hunger, thirst or wounds, and you will find little joy in life. These sorts of things are known to happen, though I must say, yours is the first case I've seen in five hundred years."

Boromir swallowed. He didn't understand much of the explanation, but what he could glean made his blood run cold. There was no escape from these words. They would follow him and keep him alive for many years until he learned to release his hold on power.

Must I relinquish everything and become nothing more than a beggar? He wondered.

While he would do so if Frodo asked it of him as payment for the serious injustice he'd inflicted on the hobbit, Boromir couldn't imagine he'd do so for anyone else. Before he could continue with that line of thinking, the Grey One pulled his horse to a sudden halt. Boromir and Eomer's men did likewise.

"I know that stench anywhere," Mafortion muttered darkly then turned to the rest of them. "Brandir, you're the best swordsman out of us. You will come with Lord Boromir and I to help extract Aracasse from the enemy. The rest of you remain here, vigilant. At the first sign of failure, ride back to Edoras with haste and inform Lady Eowyn of the venture. Do not speak to the king or Grima unless Eomer gives leave."

The one Boromir believed was named Erland inclined his head in ascent and said, "We will remain. You will meet with us after your apprentice is in hand?"

"Give us thirty minutes. If more have passed, don't linger," ordered the Grey One.

"It shall be done," Errand said.

The small company broke and Boromir followed the wizard riding next to Brandir. Despite the gravity of the situation, his fingers itched for his blade. Nothing would give him greater pleasure than to lop off the heads of the sorceresses who dared to harm his companions and facilitate their capture.

It wouldn't be the first time she'd felt sick at the thought of what was to come. Aracasse rested her back against a large rock - an oddity in the grassy plains of Rohan - while Erebus and Persephone paced at different intervals throughout the day and night. At first, she'd paid attention to their worrying and hoped it was an indicator of a small sliver of hope where she could make a sudden bid for freedom. The presence of Erebus' curse and the few members of Persephone's coven told her such an attempt was fruitless. Even if she could somehow break the curse, or resist it long enough to make a bid for freedom, the sorceresses would manage to stop her.

Her first night alone with them and, as the night went on, all hope of escape - or coming out of this with her mind in tact - left her. Aracasse spent many hours attempting to divine a simple, but effective, escape plan, but to no avail. The curse placed in her blood by Erebus and maintained by Persephone's chanting acolytes at every hour alone kept her in place, but the addition of restraints designed to only be removed by the person who placed them on her and the fact that said curse scrambled her connection to the elements.

She was well and truly fucked and it was all her fault.

As the sun rose in the east and climbed high into the sky, Ara turned her melancholy thoughts to Hades. She'd read about him, of course, but she never once had the desire to actually meet the bastard. His hatred of the children of Zeus was clear and she'd read accounts from those elves who'd served him but never taken steps into sorcery that he'd placed Aries on the elven throne as a puppet bearing Zeus' name and lineage whose strings were ripe for the pulling. By all accounts, Aries had circumvented that idea by exerting his own authority over Hades with his own. The self-proclaimed God of War had delved into his own brand of dark magics and pulled forth the wrath of the most potent of The Fallen. The name of the Once Heavenly was never written down, but from the varying accounts Aracasse pulled from over the years, she decided that, if the need arose, she could make a very accurate guess as to where Aries gained his power from. It was her hope Mab hadn't been fool enough to bring that abomination out of hell, as well, though Ara wasn't entirely certain how the Dark Faerie would have gone about such a task.

Hope.

Estel.

She decided, when thinking of him, that his less common name would be better served at the forefront of her mind. The name Strider was relatively well-known in these last couple of decades, or so he said. For his sake, she hoped such was the case and that the enemy wouldn't associate the name given to him by the elves with the true name bearing his actual lineage.

It won't matter when that Siren places the curse on you, a treacherous voice in her head reminded her.

Shut it! She snapped in reply.

Holding a conversation in with herself in her head was possibly not the best way to go about things, but there was nothing better to do than sit, wait and talk to herself. The sun was making its descent towards the horizon when he came. Despite the superficial curse, Aracasse felt his presence coat her like a layer of sticky tar. She had closed her eyes and pretended that she was back in Lorien in Estel's arms. In particular, was the memory of the day he'd led her to the banks of the Nimrodel and made love to her as the day turned to night. Even with the advent of her uncle, Ara focused on that memory: his scent, adoring blue eyes, and the feel of his breath dusting the back of her shoulder blade as he'd taken her from behind.

"Must be a nice dream."

Icy terror struck her heart. Aracasse fought to regain control of her emotions before she opened her eyes and peered at Hades through the late afternoon sun. She sniffed and closed her eyes again.

"Go fuck yourself," she grumbled.

To her surprise, he laughed. It wasn't the musical laugh of most elves, but a harsh, guttural, sound that grated on her sense of hearing.

"I had been warned you were nothing like the niece from whom your ancestors spawned," he said.

Ara smirked, but continued to keep her eyes firmly shut, "I know. I'm apparently an idiot."

Never had she thought she would have proudly worn the insult Estel laid on her, but as it was one of the last important things he'd said to her Ara refused to let it die. Hades merely grinned at her. The particular glint in his eyes almost broke her facade, but she maintained it anyway.

"I wouldn't say that, but that is likely because your choices have benefited me instead of you," he replied silkily.

His eyes - so pale that they were almost white - studied her, settling on certain parts of her body he had no business looking at. Aracasse continued to glare at him, but the longer he stared at her - lust in his eyes - the more she wanted to shrink away from him. After what seemed like an age, Hades looked away from her and fixed his gaze elsewhere. She sighed and shuddered. She started when a pale hand rested on her shoulder and she looked to see the lime green eyes of the blond haired Siren.

She shouldn't have looked at the elf-siren. Immediately, her mind was invaded by the siren's presence and left her feeling dirty, violated, and open for manipulation.

The elders have done well to mitigate the effects of this curse, the siren told her.

Aracasse's brows furrowed. The Siren smirked.

Did you think I'm a willing participant in this? Queen Mab has betrayed us, one of my coven-sisters was forced to cary an abomination to term for the Dark Lord. I will not let them win, the Siren continued.

Who are you? Ara asked.

Daenith, eldest daughter of Igraine, sister to Morgause, Elayne and Morgana of Cornwall, she replied.

And you want to help me?

I want revenge, Daenith's eyes became hard, angry. You are my only path to that. I am unable to retaliate as is appropriate, so I must help you enough to succeed.

Why? Wouldn't this go against your master's plans? Ara asked.

Yes. But I don't care. This venture has caused me to second-guess my path and I fear it is too late for me to turn back. I can hurt them before my death and I will do so. Now, listen, Hades will enable the curse to take root within you. Your bond is too new and has weak points that he can exploit to make this so. You will want Aries. You will have a need for him. Remember your bonded and fight Aries' will. I don't know the best way for you to go about this - it's different for every person as I'm told - but you must find it.

Before Ara could think of the best way to respond, Hades and Persephone approached. Her uncle's expression was dark as he pointedly stared at Daenith. The elf-siren merely blinked in his direction and moved to back away, but the Lord of the Dead shook his head.

"No, stay where you are. I will need you shortly," he ordered and then knelt at Ara's side.

A slow smirk worked its way across his lips as his eyes once again began to roam Ara's form. Then, he stretched out his hand and traced his long, white fingers above her breasts before moving to the nape of her neck and unclasped the first few hooks. Ara struck. Her teeth sank into his skin and she forced herself to keep the bite in place despite the foul taste her tongue was subjected to. Then the wind was knocked out of her as Hades' fist hurried itself in her abdomen.

She let go and curled in on herself - gasping for breath. His hand closed around her neck and cut off her air supply. She gagged and tried to claw at his hand, but the chains binding them made that difficult. Every gasp became harder and harder. The pressure on her neck grew tighter. Darkness blossomed across her vision and Ara wondered if Hades' mind was so deteriorated by his time in Sheol that he'd kill her before whatever plan they'd concocted ever became reality.

Then the pressure left her and Ara curled on her side and tried to massage her neck with her bound hands coughing in great gasps of air.

"Husband, stay your anger!"

"The bitch thinks she may harm me! The spawn of that bastard brother mine who thought himself so high and mighty to usurp my throne!" Hades spat.

Ara regained enough air to see again though the world around her appeared heavily blurred. She could make out the vague images of Persephone and Hades. The elvish crone looked to have grabbed one of Hades' arms and had used it to push him away from her.

"Control, my prince. Regain control. The deed must be done," croaked Persephone.

Hades shoved her away and sprung from the ground. Ara watched his retreating back as silently as the rest of the camp. Persephone huffed and gingerly rose to her feet as well. She beckoned her coven-sisters and they crowded around her eyes shining with adoration and complete devotion. Ara shuddered and lowered herself back on the ground. Tremors wracked her body as she went into shock from the sudden assault.

No comfort came her way. There was no shout of rage followed by a charge into battle. No one would come for her. Erebus had made sure of that.

The sun had dipped below the horizon and the sky turned blue and grey heralding the coming night. Aracasse remained as still as she dared and continued to stare at the night. Ignoring them wouldn't prevent the inevitable, but it would hopefully keep her from thinking about it too much.

"Is there a way to break the marriage bond?" Persephone asked.

"No, not with a destined one. Such was attempted in the days long past, but never yielded results. She must doubt her destined one in some way for the curse to set in. From there, it will proceed to break her will and, while the bond might remain, it will be insignificant to the presence of Aries," Hades explained. "Once Aries takes her there will be no escape."

Ara shuddered and swallowed the growing lump in her throat. He knelt beside her once more, grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. If she hadn't guessed what he'd intended earlier in the day, Ara wouldn't have been prepared for the sudden onslaught of his mind against her's. As it was, Hades managed to bring forth the argument from the back of her mind.

"You idiotic, stubborn woman! Are you so arrogant in your failing that you won't recognize when you need help?"

Hades latched onto that argument and forced her to relive it; especially the words said by Estel.

"Fuck that and fuck you! You don't get to just order me around like I'm some sort of dutiful little wife meant to serve as your bed warmer and breeding stock!"

"Such would be preferable to a foul-mouthed fool who fashions herself worthy enough to be queen of anything!"

She clenched her jaw as the words bombarded her consciousness over and over and over. Hours passed and Hades held her in that mental state until tears trailed silently down her cheeks. Finally, he released her and she stared into nothing as he moved to sit before her. There was compassion in his eyes - a compassion that Aracasse didn't trust - and he reached out to press his hand into hers. She recoiled and tried to tug her hand from his, but his grip was too firm.

"This Estel seems a fickle cad in my mind," he remarked. "I suppose this is the fate of our women - to wed men who will leave them for another in the end. The fact that this man is mortal makes this all the more insulting."

She glared at him through her tears, but offered no response. In the hours following their argument she and Estel hadn't addressed those particular words. She hadn't known how to bring it up and he…

Why hadn't he said anything?

He hadn't reassured her of his love. He hadn't attempted to make sure she understood that he wanted her and no one else. What if…?

Estel had reached out for her first. He'd apologized for them. He'd held her in his arms and kissed her tenderly.

Because you only exist to warm his bed. That's all he wants from you. He doesn't want your tenacity, or your dark past. All he wants is your body and nothing more. If not, why didn't he take back those particular words? They were the ones most hurtful. They're the most significant. They -.

Stop! She cried to herself and closed her eyes.

All he wants is a quiet, demure woman who'll provide good breeding stock for his heirs. You might fit the third, but the first two leaves much to be desired, continued that voice.

Where had all of that come from? It wasn't true! Hades must have…

I'm you, idiot! And I speak truth, you know it. You know what your Estel really is. He's a human man with greater things than you will ever be. He is better than you will ever be. You aren't his equal and you were never worthy of him in the first place. The idea that this marriage could have worked was ludicrous.

"Wouldn't it be better to just let it all go? To never feel this way again?" Hades asked as if guessing where her thoughts had gone.

"No," she said, voice wavering. "I would rather die one thousand deaths, face one thousand betrayals, then live one day unable to feel the love I have for that man."

"Really? Even if he makes you queen and proceeds to bed every lady and maid in the kingdom? Even if he gets his heir and a spare and then never beds you again?" Hades asked.

Aracasse remained silent. Had she been in her right mind, maybe she would have emphatically defended the character of Estel. As it was, she wasn't in her right mind and she knew he'd slept with a whore in the past. What if he'd lied out of fear or embarrassment? What if he'd lain with other women? What if having lain with her, he found her lacking?

He does find you lacking, said the voice. He said as much.

She sobbed. Not only at the thought, but because Hades' eyes lit as if finally finding what he'd hoped for and rose to his feet.

"Now, Daenith. Speak and cast our curse."

The Siren stepped into view and Aracasse tried to scoot away.

"No! No! Don't! Please!" She begged.

It was too late. Daenith cupped her face in the palms of her hands and opened her mouth. The low-pitched sound that came out was that of a man's as the curse leapt from her in inky black and red tendrils. The magic wriggled and writhed and then plunged into Ara's heart.

She screamed.

The pain, the sadness, and the loneliness threatened to overwhelm her. Then, in the midst of her despair, she felt a longing. Olive skin and golden hair and the crimson jeweled eyes that held power and command.

Aries.

The curse settled in her heart and all thoughts of her husband were done away with. For several long moments, she basked in the feeling of lust and admiration for Aries, the God of War, greater than all, who would herald in a new age for the elven race. She hugged herself and imagined his caresses and gentle, but powerful voice and his bright blue eyes worshiping her. Loving her.

Blue?

Estel.

Strider.

Elessar.

Aragorn.

Aracasse blinked and looked at Daenith who returned her gaze with a hard one. The Siren inclined her head and rose to her feet then turned to Hades who looked on, frowning.

"Her destined one," she said. "His name is Aragorn."

Boromir heard her screams. He suspected anyone within several leagues could hear her screams. They pierced the air as if the very fabric of her soul were being shredded. Brandir - who currently rode beside him - paled at the sound and they looked to their de facto leader, Mafortion, for direction. The grey wizard - if anything - looked ill, but determined. As suddenly as the elven queen's screams began, they ended and left the world in a still quiet. It was too still for Boromir's liking.

"Let me distract them," said the wizard. "You both must take her as soon as their attention is on me. We're in open plain, so your time to extract her will be limited."

"It will be done, Grey One," Brandir replied in a tone that Boromir could only describe as reverent.

They spurred into a gallop with Mafortion riding ahead. Soon they split with the wizard riding directly into camp and the two men following at a much slower pace. He heard shouts of alarm and anger in the distance and, as they neared the camp, Boromir beheld what could only be described as the most impressive feat of magic he'd ever seen. Mafortion was a wizard indeed with the flashes of color and light. He was also, very clearly, a bit mad as he engaged the entire camp in an outright magical battle. Briefly, he wondered if Gandalf would have been just as flamboyant if he'd ever faced enemies such as these, but then his attention fell on the single enemy left behind leaning over the prone form of his queen.

She glanced behind at the warring monoliths of power and then looked back at them and whispered, "Quickly, hit me over the head wit the butt of your sword."

Boromir opened his mouth - to argue or to question he wasn't sure which, but she hissed, "Now! Before they notice!"

His lips thinned, but he rushed forward and hit her over the head. The elf teetered to the side and slumped prone to the ground. He then moved to Aracasse whose eyes were wide and mouth agape.

"I hadn't thought you'd survive," she blurted out.

Boromir chuckled and lifted her over his shoulder, "We'll speak later. For now we must ride far from here."

He nodded to Brandir and the two slipped from the campsite and sprinted for their steeds. A feminine shout was heard at their heels and Boromir swore as he heard one utter a fell spell and felt the heat of it barely miss him. When they reached their horses, he slung her over the saddle and climbed on in front of her. Before the enemy had time to cast another fell curse, the two men rode away with their prize and galloped away.

Dawn was fast approaching when they found the men left behind. While they'd dismounted their horses they hadn't moved to make a fire or removed any of their packs. One man passed out bits of dried jerky, but that was the extent of it. Boromir moved to dismount and see to any injuries Aracasse accumulated, but was stopped by the call of the wizard not too far behind them.

"Fly! Quickly while they can't see us!" Mafortion said.

The four other men hopped into their saddles and dug their heels into the horses' sides. Boromir and Brandir followed suit and soon they hastily thundered into the night. They didn't stop until well after dawn close to where what remained of the fellowship had met with the Third Marshal. It was here, in sight of Fangorn Forest, that Mafortion of the Grey Order called for a halt.

Relieved, Boromir turned to look at the elf behind him and was happy to see her leveling a most offended glare in his direction. He grinned despite himself and hauled himself off the horse before pulling her from the saddle after.

"Have you any idea how uncomfortable that was?" She asked, clearly annoyed.

"And do you have any idea how tiring it is to run after a pack of orcs with your husband leading the chase?" He countered.

The queen blushed and looked away, the argumentative light in her eyes dimmed. Boromir frowned. Something wasn't quite right, here and he couldn't put his finger on as to what. He set her on the ground and began to inspect the chains binding her wrists. Before he looked, his eyes settled on the exposed parts of her neck where black and purple bruises peeked out for all to see.

She grimaced and said, "Hades doesn't like being bitten."

"I can see that," Boromir responded and then moved to inspect the chains.

He frowned. They were made of some sort of metal he'd never seen before. Footsteps startled him from the object and he looked up to spy the approaching Mafortion and watched the wizard kneel next to him. He was smiling.

"You could never resist dangerous situations, could you?" He asked.

Boromir noted a level of fondness coloring his voice - as if he were a father gently chastising his daughter. Aracasse's sheepish expression only served to strengthen his opinion on the nature of their relationship.

"That would be too boring," she quipped.

Mafortion chuckled and lifted the chains - and her hands - for inspection. After a few minutes, the man reached one hand into the pouch hanging from his belt and brought forth a small, thin object Boromir had certainly never seen before. He tapped it along the length of the chains, took note of a particular location, and then wedged the thing in one of the links. It was painfully slow work to watch, but Boromir did and saw the moment when the link finally snapped and caused the rest of the strange metal to dissolve into dust.

"Dragon's blood - of the ones on Earth, mind you - tend to have metallic qualities. Objects forged with the combination of blood and bone will be more difficult to break. Unless forged in dragon fire; however, there's always one weakness to find if you know what to look for," Mafortion explained.

Well, that certainly answered that!

Boromir wasn't sure what he'd intended his response to be, but Aracasse interrupted the talk by suddenly reaching out and roughly grabbed the sleeve of the wizard's tunic. A frenzied look came across her teal eyes and she leaned forward almost too eagerly. His eyes narrowed and the wizard simply looked alarmed.

"Have you come to take me to him?" She demanded.

"Yes, your husband. Rather impressive fellow, I'd thought," Mafortion replied dryly.

She sneered, "Not him. I meant Aries. I will only see Aries and no one else!"

Boromir was glad that the men of Rohan didn't seem to know what an Aries was - not like he did - because had they known hostility would reign. As it was, Boromir had to mentally talk down his own anger to ask himself why she asked such a question when the wizard reached out and pulled open the front of her tunic. A scandalized cry was on the tip of his tongue until the gondorian beheld the truth of the matter. Her chest was covered in black and red tendrils that roped through her blood and muscle. It disappeared under her chain mail and undershirt.

The move had startled her enough for Aracasse's eyes to widen and a look of absolute horror overtook her. Her hands shook, then the tremors wracked the rest of her body.

"By the Triune! It's like cancer. It just stays with me no matter what I do to try and get rid of it," she whispered.

Mafortion drew her into his embrace and let the elf queen sob against his shoulder. Boromir stared at the distant horizon as the gravity of the situation settled on his shoulders. Despite their best efforts the curse had taken root.

If the possible fell fate of our hobbit friends isn't enough to further burden Aragorn, this will, Boromir thought sadly.