Despair
Nearly a week later, Anorlach woke, and groggily turned over on her side. A sharp pain shot through her ribs, and she instantly sat up, gasping for breath as she gazed at this blurry room she lay in, her wide eyes, mirror images of her grandmother's, staring as if everything was unfamiliar, even though it truly was. A deep familiar voice whispered a request into her ear, and she instantly obeyed it, gently easing herself back into her pillows with a moan. Soon enough, she gained her vision back, and sighed lovingly at the sight of the face that loomed in her sight. It was Boromir. But where was she?
"Good morning," murmured Boromir jokingly, laying his hand on her cheek gently, careful not to hurt her in any way with his weight in muscle. Despite his amused tone, the look on his face was grave. He had terrible news, too much of a burden for himself, much less his love, his beloved Kit. He opened his mouth to tell her since she was silent for so long, but she interrupted him before he had a chance to speak.
"Where am I?" she asked, gazing quizzically around the bright sunlit room which somehow seemed so familiar. She then turned her eyes to his, allowing herself to let her mind sink deep into his beautiful sea green pupils, which held so much warmth and love, yet a bitter piece of sadness was held there. Boromir leaned in close to kiss her softly, as gently as he could, before framing her pallid face in his callused hands.
"You're in my room, back in Gondor," he said, lifting his head and letting his gaze roam over her perfectly rounded body. He had seen a few Elven maidens in his time, and they were all very well, but the one that lay in his bed was by far the most attractive. The maidens he had seen had been as thin and ethereal as a winter breeze, much less full and curvy as the ladies that lived in his home of the White City. But Kit, oh his Kit was like autumn in its prime. She could be as tempermental and as stubborn as a mule, yet there was another chance she could be sensual and quiet. Her bust protruded out from her skin like hills into white clouds, and her lips were as red as freshly picked cherries.and her eyes bluer than the sky.and her hair.he couldn't ever describe her beauty in one sitting. It was said that the Elves were airy, but not Anorlach. He could imagine her as a rose rising out from the earth, or a flame leaping towards the midnight sky. But the thing that had been tickling him from the back of his mind rose to his tongue, but he couldn't let it out just yet. He was only nineteen, hardly old enough to be what he was, and his glorious Kit, she was the same age as he in her kind's figuring. Both of them were barely of age to be married, even to be in love. He couldn't.but he had to.
"Kit," he began, drawing a deep breath and locking his gaze on her own eyes before plunging on. "This is not easy for me to tell you, but I must.you're a mother. You hold my child. It was confirmed by the physicians this very morning."
For a moment, his darling was silent, staring at him with a mixture of wonder and disbelief shining in her eyes. Then she started to giggle. Boromir couldn't understand what was so amusing about a situation like this.
"Why do you laugh?" he yelled, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her hard. He instantly regretted this action, for as soon as he gripped her arms, she cried out in pain and commenced to weep as her arrow wound was ripped open and began to bleed anew. Every nerve in her body felt as if it were on fire.
"Oh, my Kit," Boromir whispered, bending down to kiss away all her tears, and embrace her close. "I apologize with all my heart. I did not mean to harm you, but you must believe me. I am a father, and you the mother of the child that I sired. It rests within you." Then he himself began to shed silent tears of guilt and forlorn for his beloved who now had to endure all this pain and the humiliation her kind would subject her to, just for falling in love with a human, with a man of Gondor.
Nearly a week later, Anorlach woke, and groggily turned over on her side. A sharp pain shot through her ribs, and she instantly sat up, gasping for breath as she gazed at this blurry room she lay in, her wide eyes, mirror images of her grandmother's, staring as if everything was unfamiliar, even though it truly was. A deep familiar voice whispered a request into her ear, and she instantly obeyed it, gently easing herself back into her pillows with a moan. Soon enough, she gained her vision back, and sighed lovingly at the sight of the face that loomed in her sight. It was Boromir. But where was she?
"Good morning," murmured Boromir jokingly, laying his hand on her cheek gently, careful not to hurt her in any way with his weight in muscle. Despite his amused tone, the look on his face was grave. He had terrible news, too much of a burden for himself, much less his love, his beloved Kit. He opened his mouth to tell her since she was silent for so long, but she interrupted him before he had a chance to speak.
"Where am I?" she asked, gazing quizzically around the bright sunlit room which somehow seemed so familiar. She then turned her eyes to his, allowing herself to let her mind sink deep into his beautiful sea green pupils, which held so much warmth and love, yet a bitter piece of sadness was held there. Boromir leaned in close to kiss her softly, as gently as he could, before framing her pallid face in his callused hands.
"You're in my room, back in Gondor," he said, lifting his head and letting his gaze roam over her perfectly rounded body. He had seen a few Elven maidens in his time, and they were all very well, but the one that lay in his bed was by far the most attractive. The maidens he had seen had been as thin and ethereal as a winter breeze, much less full and curvy as the ladies that lived in his home of the White City. But Kit, oh his Kit was like autumn in its prime. She could be as tempermental and as stubborn as a mule, yet there was another chance she could be sensual and quiet. Her bust protruded out from her skin like hills into white clouds, and her lips were as red as freshly picked cherries.and her eyes bluer than the sky.and her hair.he couldn't ever describe her beauty in one sitting. It was said that the Elves were airy, but not Anorlach. He could imagine her as a rose rising out from the earth, or a flame leaping towards the midnight sky. But the thing that had been tickling him from the back of his mind rose to his tongue, but he couldn't let it out just yet. He was only nineteen, hardly old enough to be what he was, and his glorious Kit, she was the same age as he in her kind's figuring. Both of them were barely of age to be married, even to be in love. He couldn't.but he had to.
"Kit," he began, drawing a deep breath and locking his gaze on her own eyes before plunging on. "This is not easy for me to tell you, but I must.you're a mother. You hold my child. It was confirmed by the physicians this very morning."
For a moment, his darling was silent, staring at him with a mixture of wonder and disbelief shining in her eyes. Then she started to giggle. Boromir couldn't understand what was so amusing about a situation like this.
"Why do you laugh?" he yelled, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her hard. He instantly regretted this action, for as soon as he gripped her arms, she cried out in pain and commenced to weep as her arrow wound was ripped open and began to bleed anew. Every nerve in her body felt as if it were on fire.
"Oh, my Kit," Boromir whispered, bending down to kiss away all her tears, and embrace her close. "I apologize with all my heart. I did not mean to harm you, but you must believe me. I am a father, and you the mother of the child that I sired. It rests within you." Then he himself began to shed silent tears of guilt and forlorn for his beloved who now had to endure all this pain and the humiliation her kind would subject her to, just for falling in love with a human, with a man of Gondor.