~*~* A/N: It took me a few days, but here it is! :-D The latest installment! *~*~
Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, as the company pushed on toward Gondor. Boromir's mouth wore a scowl, in worry for his city. Veerle's eyes seemed not to bear the same radiant love they had before. Since the night they spent together, they had spoken no more of it, both thinking that the other was not in love.
It was as night was falling that they came upon a fork in the road - one way led north, and one continued east. Veerle looked upon the path she was to take the next morning. The company settled for the night there. Loriana fell asleep quickly, for she was exhausted, both physically and mentally. The past weeks had been a challenge, seeing Legolas every day, and remembering how he held her and cried into her, showing her his weakness, weakness from a being that Loriana thought had none.
Veerle sat beside a fire, thinking. "Oh Valar," she murmured softly, then felt his eyes on her, penetrating and intense. She looked up, and there he stood, an intelligible expression on his face. Without speaking, he sat beside her, taking her hand.
"I know what it is you think, Veerle," he whispered.
"Do you, Boromir?" she responded, turning away. "I think you do not."
"You think I do not love you," he said, and she turned back.
"Then are my thoughts true?" She could barely say this, instead whispering it. Boromir shook his head, and, leaning forward, whispered into her pointed ear.
"I love you more than anything, more than life or even Gondor. It frightens me, to have something this, this intense and real, but I do have it. And I feel it. I hoped you knew without my saying it, but I would say it a thousand times over. I love you, Veerle, and you alone." He gulped back a tear, and continued. "I wish only to be with you, but I know you must leave in the morrow, and you know I must go to defend my city. Alas that this war must take place - but perhaps not, for if it hadn't, I may never have met you. And I would rather fight a thousand wars than not have the chance to love you." A tear fell from his cheek, sliding onto Veerle's shoulder.
"Oh Boromir," she said softly, and took his face in her hands. "I love you as much, or perhaps more, and I wish only that I did not have to go back to Mirkwood. I could travel with you; help you defend your city."
"No, Veerle," he shook his head softly. "For I would fear for your life, more than I would fear for mine." Another tear escaped his dark eyes, and fell. "I wish not to leave you, Veerle."
She placed her lips to his cheek, kissing his tear away. "Amongst my people, if you show emotion, cry, as you call it, in front of another, it means you love them dearly, and would die for their safety. I feel myself succumbing to tears, and when Elves cry, it seems that their entire bodies do, not just their eyes." Boromir placed his head on her shoulder, allowing his tears to fall freely.
"I am so lost," he whimpered quietly. "And torn between my city and my love. I would go to Mirkwood with you, if there wasn't such a war. And the moment it is over, I shall go to you."
"I know, my sweet," she said softly, kissing his forehead. "I know."
Legolas watched his sister and her love, his eyes dark. He looked down, gulping back more tears.
"I cannot be jealous any longer," he said softly. "I must be glad that she has found what I could not; true love, deep and everlasting, intense and real. Alas for the prophecy, alas!"
As the sun was rising the next morning, Boromir was awake to face it. He gulped, a bead of sweat dropping from his forehead. He glanced across the camp, and saw Veerle just rising from her bed in the grass. Sighing nervously, he approached her. It seemed as though the rest of the company stood and watched, as he smiled anxiously at the Elven woman.
"Uh.. Hello!" he said, and she smiled, raising her eyebrows.
"Good morning."
"Uh.." He stopped, thinking, and gulped once more. "Um.. Veerle?" She laughed.
"Yes, Boromir?"
"Uh, can I ask you a question?" Eyes twinkling, she nodded. Gulping once more, he lowered himself to one knee. Boromir reached up and took Veerle's hand.
"Uh.. Um.. Uh, Will you.. Can you.. Um.. " he cleared his throat, and started again. "I really love you, and I, Oh, dear Valar," he paused, and, taking a deep breath, blurted it all out, "Will you marry me, Veerle?"
"Of course, Boromir, I will marry you," she smiled, and pulled him up to his feet.
"Oh, dear Valar," were his last words, before his eyes closed and he fell over.
"Veerle! You killed him!" said Loriana, only half-jokingly.
"Oh, I did not, silly girl," replied Veerle, kneeling beside Boromir. She lowered her mouth to his, pressing their lips together gently. His eyes opened.
"Did I just propose?" he asked when their kiss was broken.
"Aye," said Veerle, smiling down at him.
"And you said yes?" he asked, and she grinned.
"Why not ask me again?" He laughed, and shook his head.
"That time almost killed me, sweet Veerle." This drew another kiss from Veerle, planted on the man's forehead.
"Stand up, Boromir," she said softly, and he did so. She however, remained upon her knees.
"Boromir, son of Denethor, Son of Gondor," she smiled, taking his hand, and gazing lovingly up at him. "Would you make my dreams come true, and marry me?" Boromir responded by lifting the Elven woman into his arms, placing loving kisses on her lips.
The company exploded into applause, Elves and Men alike touched by these events. Legolas caught himself watching Loriana, who had a happy, but pained expression on her face. Though she shed no tears, her eyes spoke of sadness and grief beyond their knowledge. Loriana turned her head slightly, and smiled at Legolas. Then, with a sigh, she turned back, and watched as the newly-engaged couple continued to kiss.
Eventually, Veerle and Boromir broke apart, Boromir with a sheepish smile on his face. Then it was to be decided what to do next. They came to the conclusion that Veerle would go ahead to Mirkwood, to prepare for the wedding, and Boromir would go to Gondor, to tell his father of the news, and then journey north to Mirkwood, to be married. They parted with another series of kisses, much to the amusement of much of the company. Veerle rode off into the distance, and Boromir watched her until she faded out of his eyesight.
"Now I must decide whose horse I shall share," said Boromir softly, and Strider smiled.
"A volunteer has already made himself known," he replied simply, gesturing to Legolas.
Boromir and Legolas shared a brotherly hug, for they soon were to be brothers-in-law, and then they set off.
Silver trumpets greeted the company to Minas Tirith, after the company broke through a small wall of orcs without much effort. The walls of the City opened wide, and the army rode in, almost 200 strong. Boromir smiled at several people in the crowd, whom he obviously knew. Strider looked up in astonishment at the White City. Even Loriana, who had tried to seem as stoic as possible throughout this entire ordeal, gasped in amazement.
Boromir grinned as he dismounted the horse he shared with Legolas, and approached an older man waiting in the center of the town.
"Father!" he exclaimed, glad to see him, and bowed in respect.
"My son, I see you have brought an army with you," the older man smiled, and embraced his son in a hug.
"Aye, father, an army worthy of Gondor," Boromir responded, as the rest of their company dismounted, horses whisked away to the stables to be fed and looked after.
"Indeed, for I have heard tell of a Blackthorne in your midst," replied the man, glancing the company over. Loriana, of course, with her long red hair and small frame, stood out quite a bit. "That is perhaps her."
Loriana, head bowed, approached the man, Steward of Gondor. She knelt before him, speaking in a low but strong voice. "Lord Denethor, Steward of Gondor, it is an honor to be of service to you."
The other man smiled, and bowed his head. "Lady Blackthorne, it is I who should be honored, for the arrival of The Blackthorne has been long anticipated."
It was then that Farimir, brother of Boromir, approached the company. He and Denethor told the army of the fate that had befallen Gondor in the past months. The armies that Gondor had drove the armies of orcs and worse back, almost to the border of Gondor, but had suffered many losses. Boromir was saddened to hear of the loss of one of his friends, one dear to him since childhood.
"Alas, father, with all the excitement, I'd nearly forgotten to tell you!" Exclaimed Boromir, shaking his head. "Father, I met a woman, a wonderful, beautiful woman, and I am to be married."
His father's face once again brightened with a smile.
"Well, where is this woman who has stolen my son's heart?"
"She had to return to her home," said Boromir, "And I am to go there as soon as I can, so we can be wed."
"Where is her home? Oh, Boromir, tell me it isn't Bree. The people in that place are dreadfully unkempt."
Boromir laughed, and shook his head. "Nae, father, she is of Mirkwood."
His father's eyes widened, and he sputtered for a moment. "Boromir, son, is she an elf?"
Boromir nodded. "Aye, father. Veerle, princess of Mirkwood. Legolas, with whom I shared a horse, is her brother."
Denethor's face remained shocked, but then it stirred. "I must be off," he said simply, and, turning, stalked off toward his chambers. Boromir's face fell. Legolas put a reassuring hand upon his shoulder.
"This, this.." Denethor was still sputtering as he flipped through a large book. He stopped briefly on the page about The Blackthorne, but, turning another page, continued on. Reading the heading of the page he stopped at, his eyes widened still. It was the last page of the book, for after it, none could be foreseen.
"A union, beautiful and wondrous, between two races, will bring peace and honor to all involved, until it crumbles beyond the gates of The White City, and all of Middle Earth will begin it's fall."
Denethor closed the book, covered with dust. With a short sigh, he looked down at the title.. "Prophecies of Gondor." He then stood, turning toward the window.
The scouts returned, bringing good tidings - the armies of Mordor had disappeared into the East. And although the danger was not completely gone, for they were sure to return, a little releif was got. Boromir, Farimir, Strider, Loriana, and Denethor decided that they would travel to Mirkwood the next day, with Legolas as their guide. A large group of men and elves bid them farewell, as they journeyed north.
Veerle sat inside her room, looking at her reflection in the mirror. With a sigh, she allowed a stray hand journey over her stomache. The door opened, and without glancing up she knew it was her dearest and closest friend, Malfriour.
"Are you well?" the other elf asked, a note of concern playing on her face. She had long brown hair, glimmering light blue eyes, and a fair complexion, an appearance slightly similar to Veerle, although Malfriour was a little taller.
"Aye," said Veerle softly, turning a little in her chair. Malfriour smiled, and sat beside her.
"Then why do you seem so depressed as of late?"
"Oh, Malfriour, I have not yet told my father of this union, and Boromir will be arriving rather soon. I know not what he will say, and I am deeply concerned. And I hold deep within another secret, one that I cannot tell."
"Veerle, you must tell your father, and quickly. For, I feel the presence of your beloved approaching. King Thranduil is noble and honorable - he will embrace Boromir as you have."
"Thank you, dear Malfriour," said Veerle, and her friend smiled back.
"Go now and tell him."
Veerle walked with soft feet down the hall. When she reached her father's chamber, she knocked on the door gently, taking a deep breath. She heard her father's strong voice command, "Enter", and she did so, opening the door and stepping into his lush chamber.
"Ah, Veerle."
"Hello, Father," she said softly, her head down.
"Something troubles you, my daughter. Speak of it now, if you please."
"Father, I should have told you before, but I was afraid of what you may say, and
now the hour grows close," she began, speaking in a rush.
"Veerle, please. Sit, and explain, slower if it is possible." Veerle smiled, and nodded.
"Aye, Father. You see, whilst I was in Rivendell with Legolas, I met someone. He asked me to marry him, and I said yes." Her father's eyes widened.
"A wedding, how wonderful! Tell me, is he a High Elf, or a Wood Elf?"
"Well, Father, that's just the thing that worried me."
"What is it, dear Veerle?"
"He isn't an elf at all, father. He is a man, a strong, wonderful man, Boromir of Gondor. His father is the Steward, and I love him dearly. Please be not angry with me, but I could not help myself, for he is noble and strong." Thranduil, after getting past the initial shock, then smiled.
"Oh, Veerle, I can clearly see he has stolen your heart. Have you thought this through completely?"
"Aye, Father."
"Then it shall be done. When will the wedding be?"
Another knock came at the door just then, and Thranduil looked up.
"Enter."
A guard entered, bowing his head. "My Lord, I thought it would please you to hear that your son, Legolas, has returned. He and three men approach the castle as we speak."
Veerle smiled, a contented sigh escaping her soft lips.
"The wedding will be soon."
~*~* A/N: Awww.. this was dedicated to my friend Lil, who is the inspiration of many, and the best idea-er around!!! *~*~
Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, as the company pushed on toward Gondor. Boromir's mouth wore a scowl, in worry for his city. Veerle's eyes seemed not to bear the same radiant love they had before. Since the night they spent together, they had spoken no more of it, both thinking that the other was not in love.
It was as night was falling that they came upon a fork in the road - one way led north, and one continued east. Veerle looked upon the path she was to take the next morning. The company settled for the night there. Loriana fell asleep quickly, for she was exhausted, both physically and mentally. The past weeks had been a challenge, seeing Legolas every day, and remembering how he held her and cried into her, showing her his weakness, weakness from a being that Loriana thought had none.
Veerle sat beside a fire, thinking. "Oh Valar," she murmured softly, then felt his eyes on her, penetrating and intense. She looked up, and there he stood, an intelligible expression on his face. Without speaking, he sat beside her, taking her hand.
"I know what it is you think, Veerle," he whispered.
"Do you, Boromir?" she responded, turning away. "I think you do not."
"You think I do not love you," he said, and she turned back.
"Then are my thoughts true?" She could barely say this, instead whispering it. Boromir shook his head, and, leaning forward, whispered into her pointed ear.
"I love you more than anything, more than life or even Gondor. It frightens me, to have something this, this intense and real, but I do have it. And I feel it. I hoped you knew without my saying it, but I would say it a thousand times over. I love you, Veerle, and you alone." He gulped back a tear, and continued. "I wish only to be with you, but I know you must leave in the morrow, and you know I must go to defend my city. Alas that this war must take place - but perhaps not, for if it hadn't, I may never have met you. And I would rather fight a thousand wars than not have the chance to love you." A tear fell from his cheek, sliding onto Veerle's shoulder.
"Oh Boromir," she said softly, and took his face in her hands. "I love you as much, or perhaps more, and I wish only that I did not have to go back to Mirkwood. I could travel with you; help you defend your city."
"No, Veerle," he shook his head softly. "For I would fear for your life, more than I would fear for mine." Another tear escaped his dark eyes, and fell. "I wish not to leave you, Veerle."
She placed her lips to his cheek, kissing his tear away. "Amongst my people, if you show emotion, cry, as you call it, in front of another, it means you love them dearly, and would die for their safety. I feel myself succumbing to tears, and when Elves cry, it seems that their entire bodies do, not just their eyes." Boromir placed his head on her shoulder, allowing his tears to fall freely.
"I am so lost," he whimpered quietly. "And torn between my city and my love. I would go to Mirkwood with you, if there wasn't such a war. And the moment it is over, I shall go to you."
"I know, my sweet," she said softly, kissing his forehead. "I know."
Legolas watched his sister and her love, his eyes dark. He looked down, gulping back more tears.
"I cannot be jealous any longer," he said softly. "I must be glad that she has found what I could not; true love, deep and everlasting, intense and real. Alas for the prophecy, alas!"
As the sun was rising the next morning, Boromir was awake to face it. He gulped, a bead of sweat dropping from his forehead. He glanced across the camp, and saw Veerle just rising from her bed in the grass. Sighing nervously, he approached her. It seemed as though the rest of the company stood and watched, as he smiled anxiously at the Elven woman.
"Uh.. Hello!" he said, and she smiled, raising her eyebrows.
"Good morning."
"Uh.." He stopped, thinking, and gulped once more. "Um.. Veerle?" She laughed.
"Yes, Boromir?"
"Uh, can I ask you a question?" Eyes twinkling, she nodded. Gulping once more, he lowered himself to one knee. Boromir reached up and took Veerle's hand.
"Uh.. Um.. Uh, Will you.. Can you.. Um.. " he cleared his throat, and started again. "I really love you, and I, Oh, dear Valar," he paused, and, taking a deep breath, blurted it all out, "Will you marry me, Veerle?"
"Of course, Boromir, I will marry you," she smiled, and pulled him up to his feet.
"Oh, dear Valar," were his last words, before his eyes closed and he fell over.
"Veerle! You killed him!" said Loriana, only half-jokingly.
"Oh, I did not, silly girl," replied Veerle, kneeling beside Boromir. She lowered her mouth to his, pressing their lips together gently. His eyes opened.
"Did I just propose?" he asked when their kiss was broken.
"Aye," said Veerle, smiling down at him.
"And you said yes?" he asked, and she grinned.
"Why not ask me again?" He laughed, and shook his head.
"That time almost killed me, sweet Veerle." This drew another kiss from Veerle, planted on the man's forehead.
"Stand up, Boromir," she said softly, and he did so. She however, remained upon her knees.
"Boromir, son of Denethor, Son of Gondor," she smiled, taking his hand, and gazing lovingly up at him. "Would you make my dreams come true, and marry me?" Boromir responded by lifting the Elven woman into his arms, placing loving kisses on her lips.
The company exploded into applause, Elves and Men alike touched by these events. Legolas caught himself watching Loriana, who had a happy, but pained expression on her face. Though she shed no tears, her eyes spoke of sadness and grief beyond their knowledge. Loriana turned her head slightly, and smiled at Legolas. Then, with a sigh, she turned back, and watched as the newly-engaged couple continued to kiss.
Eventually, Veerle and Boromir broke apart, Boromir with a sheepish smile on his face. Then it was to be decided what to do next. They came to the conclusion that Veerle would go ahead to Mirkwood, to prepare for the wedding, and Boromir would go to Gondor, to tell his father of the news, and then journey north to Mirkwood, to be married. They parted with another series of kisses, much to the amusement of much of the company. Veerle rode off into the distance, and Boromir watched her until she faded out of his eyesight.
"Now I must decide whose horse I shall share," said Boromir softly, and Strider smiled.
"A volunteer has already made himself known," he replied simply, gesturing to Legolas.
Boromir and Legolas shared a brotherly hug, for they soon were to be brothers-in-law, and then they set off.
Silver trumpets greeted the company to Minas Tirith, after the company broke through a small wall of orcs without much effort. The walls of the City opened wide, and the army rode in, almost 200 strong. Boromir smiled at several people in the crowd, whom he obviously knew. Strider looked up in astonishment at the White City. Even Loriana, who had tried to seem as stoic as possible throughout this entire ordeal, gasped in amazement.
Boromir grinned as he dismounted the horse he shared with Legolas, and approached an older man waiting in the center of the town.
"Father!" he exclaimed, glad to see him, and bowed in respect.
"My son, I see you have brought an army with you," the older man smiled, and embraced his son in a hug.
"Aye, father, an army worthy of Gondor," Boromir responded, as the rest of their company dismounted, horses whisked away to the stables to be fed and looked after.
"Indeed, for I have heard tell of a Blackthorne in your midst," replied the man, glancing the company over. Loriana, of course, with her long red hair and small frame, stood out quite a bit. "That is perhaps her."
Loriana, head bowed, approached the man, Steward of Gondor. She knelt before him, speaking in a low but strong voice. "Lord Denethor, Steward of Gondor, it is an honor to be of service to you."
The other man smiled, and bowed his head. "Lady Blackthorne, it is I who should be honored, for the arrival of The Blackthorne has been long anticipated."
It was then that Farimir, brother of Boromir, approached the company. He and Denethor told the army of the fate that had befallen Gondor in the past months. The armies that Gondor had drove the armies of orcs and worse back, almost to the border of Gondor, but had suffered many losses. Boromir was saddened to hear of the loss of one of his friends, one dear to him since childhood.
"Alas, father, with all the excitement, I'd nearly forgotten to tell you!" Exclaimed Boromir, shaking his head. "Father, I met a woman, a wonderful, beautiful woman, and I am to be married."
His father's face once again brightened with a smile.
"Well, where is this woman who has stolen my son's heart?"
"She had to return to her home," said Boromir, "And I am to go there as soon as I can, so we can be wed."
"Where is her home? Oh, Boromir, tell me it isn't Bree. The people in that place are dreadfully unkempt."
Boromir laughed, and shook his head. "Nae, father, she is of Mirkwood."
His father's eyes widened, and he sputtered for a moment. "Boromir, son, is she an elf?"
Boromir nodded. "Aye, father. Veerle, princess of Mirkwood. Legolas, with whom I shared a horse, is her brother."
Denethor's face remained shocked, but then it stirred. "I must be off," he said simply, and, turning, stalked off toward his chambers. Boromir's face fell. Legolas put a reassuring hand upon his shoulder.
"This, this.." Denethor was still sputtering as he flipped through a large book. He stopped briefly on the page about The Blackthorne, but, turning another page, continued on. Reading the heading of the page he stopped at, his eyes widened still. It was the last page of the book, for after it, none could be foreseen.
"A union, beautiful and wondrous, between two races, will bring peace and honor to all involved, until it crumbles beyond the gates of The White City, and all of Middle Earth will begin it's fall."
Denethor closed the book, covered with dust. With a short sigh, he looked down at the title.. "Prophecies of Gondor." He then stood, turning toward the window.
The scouts returned, bringing good tidings - the armies of Mordor had disappeared into the East. And although the danger was not completely gone, for they were sure to return, a little releif was got. Boromir, Farimir, Strider, Loriana, and Denethor decided that they would travel to Mirkwood the next day, with Legolas as their guide. A large group of men and elves bid them farewell, as they journeyed north.
Veerle sat inside her room, looking at her reflection in the mirror. With a sigh, she allowed a stray hand journey over her stomache. The door opened, and without glancing up she knew it was her dearest and closest friend, Malfriour.
"Are you well?" the other elf asked, a note of concern playing on her face. She had long brown hair, glimmering light blue eyes, and a fair complexion, an appearance slightly similar to Veerle, although Malfriour was a little taller.
"Aye," said Veerle softly, turning a little in her chair. Malfriour smiled, and sat beside her.
"Then why do you seem so depressed as of late?"
"Oh, Malfriour, I have not yet told my father of this union, and Boromir will be arriving rather soon. I know not what he will say, and I am deeply concerned. And I hold deep within another secret, one that I cannot tell."
"Veerle, you must tell your father, and quickly. For, I feel the presence of your beloved approaching. King Thranduil is noble and honorable - he will embrace Boromir as you have."
"Thank you, dear Malfriour," said Veerle, and her friend smiled back.
"Go now and tell him."
Veerle walked with soft feet down the hall. When she reached her father's chamber, she knocked on the door gently, taking a deep breath. She heard her father's strong voice command, "Enter", and she did so, opening the door and stepping into his lush chamber.
"Ah, Veerle."
"Hello, Father," she said softly, her head down.
"Something troubles you, my daughter. Speak of it now, if you please."
"Father, I should have told you before, but I was afraid of what you may say, and
now the hour grows close," she began, speaking in a rush.
"Veerle, please. Sit, and explain, slower if it is possible." Veerle smiled, and nodded.
"Aye, Father. You see, whilst I was in Rivendell with Legolas, I met someone. He asked me to marry him, and I said yes." Her father's eyes widened.
"A wedding, how wonderful! Tell me, is he a High Elf, or a Wood Elf?"
"Well, Father, that's just the thing that worried me."
"What is it, dear Veerle?"
"He isn't an elf at all, father. He is a man, a strong, wonderful man, Boromir of Gondor. His father is the Steward, and I love him dearly. Please be not angry with me, but I could not help myself, for he is noble and strong." Thranduil, after getting past the initial shock, then smiled.
"Oh, Veerle, I can clearly see he has stolen your heart. Have you thought this through completely?"
"Aye, Father."
"Then it shall be done. When will the wedding be?"
Another knock came at the door just then, and Thranduil looked up.
"Enter."
A guard entered, bowing his head. "My Lord, I thought it would please you to hear that your son, Legolas, has returned. He and three men approach the castle as we speak."
Veerle smiled, a contented sigh escaping her soft lips.
"The wedding will be soon."
~*~* A/N: Awww.. this was dedicated to my friend Lil, who is the inspiration of many, and the best idea-er around!!! *~*~
