Disclaimer: This universe does not belong to me. However, I enjoy dreaming in it.
Author's Note: Hm…a small Erchirion backstory is in the making. A separate story, perhaps?
Warnings: AU. Boromir/OC. Other AU-ish elements.
The Captain's Wife
I am stunned, frozen in a half-turn away from Erchirion.
"I was a child when I first knew. And my father knew, also, or long suspected it, when I came to him, professing my feelings not only for the sea but those who live upon it." Erchirion's lips upturn in a memory I couldn't know.
"One of the truths of our Navy, that most ignore, is the freedom to cast your heart with its full spirit. For several, like your brother," he nods toward me in recognition, "it is a love shared with one. For myself, I find myself loving where I wander. It matters not their form." His eyes grow distant, glittering, like gems.
"My father let me become a Sea-farer at my entry to soldierhood, rather than the usual cavalry princes train in first. Upon the sea I learned what Heart-Casting - that is what we sea-people call it, at least - truly is: loving freely, without restraint, without fear of others' judgment.
"I have been in many a storm of love won and lost. In fact," he laughs a little, "I was ashore for that very reason when you arrived." He looks away, a faint smirk playing about his mouth; with marked dimples, his weather-worn face is suddenly younger, handsome.
"What of you helping others, as I did in the Houses of Healing? With medicine, with illness? Your father made no mention of love when we spoke of your assistance to me." I am moved out of my shocked reverie to ask. Indeed, Prince Imrahil had not, and I am uncertain again as to both lord and son's purpose. "I find it curious that, in the midst of, ah, romantic troubles…"Erchirion's smirk broadens at my inelegant turn of phrase. "…of your own, why you would agree to travel here."
"That is your first question?" He actually laughs and comes to me in a few strides, seizing my hands in a fluid, unexpected motion. "May the seawinds bless you, cousin!" He places a firm kiss on them, warm and scratchy with his beard. "You are a marvel, Lady Captain."
I am puzzled, but he gives no explanation, instead pacing away from me in energetic reply.
"I was aboard the Swan and Gull when one of our female crewmates gave birth. Her husband being ashore meant she sought my friendship. She claimed it was my coloring that reminded her of him; I think it is my personality, honestly." - he strikes an elegant pose and his eyes dance. "We became friends. She sought my aid when she was struck with pain, and at the first light upon the babe, I was in love, again. This time, in a new and different way."
"Herbs and tinctures became my obsession - after the sea, of course; She reigns Queen. At every port we stopped at, I consulted with the local apothecary or healer. Did you know athelas has different uses in the South of Gondor? They drink it as a tea. And in the far East, I am told, they create a paste to spread upon wounds, to relieve pain.
"My reputation for healing spread. After spending too much time in battle, I have found it a relief to focus on life, and keeping it. My brothers may enjoy the heat and muck of fighting, but I do not - not anymore. Not since I saw the wee one meet his mother.
"Currently, I am in the midst of finding out what or whom my heart is for. At my Father's advice, I was to attend to him while he sent out my brothers in my stead. So the beating of the Sea could give way to the beating of my heart, and I could understand it at last.
"Cousin, I may know not the nature of your relationship with our Captain General. However, I know it is not in him to deceive, nor is it in him to willingly bring pain to those whom he cares for. And such, I would caution against falling into despair, and wait instead for the beating of your own heart to ring true, in faith."
He kisses my hands once more, and drops them.
I am all astonishment. This was not the story I expected, particularly of the blood of Imrahil. Nor did I expect it of my brother, I recall, and with shame I remember my reluctance to help Amanion.
For several moments, we are quiet, a tableau of silent assessment. For myself, I search his gaze for any lies, any small deceit - but no. Prince Imrahil would not have sent his son if he did not trust him, and so my worry eases, and my respect for both lord and son grows.
"I thank you for sharing," I say, breaking the silence. The words sound harsh, and I rush to correct myself. "Perhaps I mean to say - I honor your honesty, as you do mine, in revealing yourself."
There is so much more I could say: that dwelling in the White Court, especially of late, has borne a suspicious root that will not let go. That not only was I seeking safety for myself and my child…perhaps I was also seeking a place to breathe free of the constraints I found myself in - a similarity that is striking as it is sharp, under the illumination of Erchirion's past and present.
And where now am I? I wonder.
"You are here, safe (at least for now), and I, like your lordly husband would, will protect you, in whatever ways I can."
I did not realize I spoke aloud. "I thank you for it."
I reach for his arm, and we let the weight of our conversation lighten, meandering in idle talk and pleasure.
—
The walks become our routine: I come down from my bed, sometimes rested, sometimes exhausted. The ginger tea handed to me each morning cleanses the remnants of nightmares from the night before; if I am not dreaming of the flaming Eye, I continue to dream of the giant wave overtaking my child. I have to spend a few minutes before leaving my chamber washing my face and arms of the sweat clinging to my bedclothes.
I begin to suspect tending the lamps was a ruse - as Glandur and Caranion faithfully attend to them, I am not much needed; rather, Erchirion distracts me with conversation and walks around the small isle the dor-e-galar stands upon.
We exchange tales, me of my brother, and he of the Sea. The grief of losing my brother so young shifts, gradually; it seems sharing my memories lightens a burden I did not realize I carried. The prince, also, seems lighter of heart as we speak; yet, ever mindful, I notice that the walks we take act doubly as patrols. Erchirion shows me how to watch for large disturbances near the horizon, or smaller ones nearer to shore. "We do not have as many traders sailing in," he tells me soberly. "The very tides are disturbed by the Dark Lord's malice. Already rumors have told us unnatural squalls appear and disappear, taking with them ships to the depths. One survivor mentioned to my brothers a wave larger than two houses tall."
My eyes widen, and I glance over at the sea…stillness. In fact, it is peaceable, almost soothing, despite the low clouds, persisting on, and growing lower with each passing day. What little light there remains is warm and not oppressive, at least for the hour. I can hardly believe waves growing that large, and say so.
"I trust the sailor," he replies, "as he has served loyally in the Amroth Navy for years. Now then," he continues, "let us speak of happier things. Was your brother as much of a troublemaker as you portray him to be?"
I let the subject lie. If I, no sailor and little water experience find the idea of tall waves impossible to conceive, I cannot fathom surviving one. Nor do I wish to, remembering my ongoing dreams of a large wave. I regale him with the story of my brother and I making castles of the stone rubble in our Mother's garden - since she spent more time sewing than gardening, the yard was overgrown and filled with forgotten stone pathways crumbling to pieces. We would while away hours constructing the best castles…unless my brother grew angry or jealous of my meticulous creation and destroy it with boyish abandon. One morning he catapulted stones from his castle into mine, damaging a courtyard window in the process.
"Needless to say, we spent more time indoors than out after that," I tell him, smiling. I struggle tugging on a stray weed where we have stopped; the growth leaves its home with force and rips out the tuber plant nearby. Erchirion laughs at me as I replant the tuber hastily.
I take after Mother - I am an inexperienced gardener; we spend afternoons by the cottage garden. The prince shows me how to clear the weeds without damaging any other plant. I am wary, but follow his instructions to the letter, unwilling to pull up anything else that is useful, accidentally or no.
Nights are spent with the men before the fire. I listen as Glandur recounts old legends of the Sea, including an exciting variation of the Sea-maiden portrayed on the iron stairwell. "She's alive still," he promises me. "Sea-maidens like her do not die, only return to the waves to seduce again." They roar with laughter when, kept awake by kicking and discomfort, I peer out watching for her famously bright hair and beautiful song. "It t'were a legend for a reason," Glandur teases. "Only aboard a ship can one see, anyhow. We are landlubbin' it. No hope of seeing a beautiful siren, other than the one here!"
I snort, pleased despite myself. Glandur has moved past embarrassment to flattery, and it lightens my heart to receive it. I am reminded dearly of my brother, and thank whatever Valar is watching I have found some small camaraderie with the men sworn to protect me and my child.
-to be continued-