It was on the night of their betrothal that she first came to him. Boromir was alone in his room, a room sparsely furnished, a large, ornately carved bed, and two large windows overlooking the city to the West. Night had long since drawn in, the moon was beginning to descend and the Great Hunter looked down at the city.
Boromir was pleased with how the evening had gone, the ancient ceremony had gone smoothly. Daya had presented him with three symbols, a bridle, made of new leather to symbolize her obedience to her future husband, a cloak, to symbolize her duty to care for him, and a garland of fresh flowers, her willingness to be fertile for him. It was a ceremony as ancient as the city, and these were the traditional gifts of a woman being betrothed. However their high rank had made the ceremony even more complex. As a signal of Boromir's position she gave him an ornate brooch, detailing the Tree of Gondor, and also to Denethor, her future father in marriage. She gave these gifts, as a sign of her loyalty to them, but her own position insisted that they make a gift to her, in honour of her family. Boromir had placed around her head a silver circlet, engraved with seven stars, he admired the contrast of the cool metal to her dark hair.
The final act was unusual, and usually reserved for a warrior, but Daya as a skilled warrior picked up a heavy ornamental sword, kissed its jewelled hilt, and placed it at the feet of Denethor.
"My sword is yours. I shall defend this family and its honour while there is still life in this body. I swear this as a Warrior of Gondor" she paused, and then in deference to Denethor's Stewardship. "My sword is yours. I shall defend Gondor and its honour while there is still life in this body. I swear this as a Warrior of Gondor."
There was one simple formality to complete, the joining of the hands and the declaration that these people were betrothed. The ceremony was over and the feast began.
It was therefore very late when Boromir finally made it to his chamber. A torch illuminated the room, casting shadows on the walls as he removed his cloak, and weapons. Reaching for the clasp of his high collar he snapped it undone.
There was a knock on the door and Boromir froze. No one would disturb him at this late hour, and it was on this thought that his hand reached for the small dagger that lay on the plinth.
"Enter" he had called.
The heavy door had creaked open slowly, and to his surprise Daya had entered. She slid the door firmly into place and leaned against it. She had changed from the heavy traditional robes of earlier to a grey blue layered chiffon dress, held up on one shoulder by a silver clip. Her other shoulder and her arms were bare, as were her feet. Her skin was smooth and creamy, and she still wore the circlet he had given her earlier in her hair. It was the only adornment she wore.
He had heard that this sometimes happened; a woman would come to her future husband's chamber early, and not wait for their wedding night. It had not been forefront in his mind, their kisses had been passionate, but privacy difficult to come by. But now, alone, here in his chamber, her intent was clear.
In the laws of Gondor, a man and woman should not share a sleeping chamber, or a bed until a marriage ceremony had taken place, but as long as a couple was discreet... well theirs was probably not the only liaison taking place this night.
Daya was still pressed against the door, and Boromir stared at her, taking in every detail that he could of her. Her breathing was shallow and quick, as if she had run here, and her dress rippled with every movement she made. It was sheerer than he first thought, and his own breathing quickened as he thought he saw the outline of her slim body. His body stirred and desire grew within him. He had not lain with a woman for months now, a brief affair with a woman during his last absence had been his last romance, but she had not excited him as Daya did. There was no nervousness between them, he paused only to admire the woman that would be, in a month's time, his wife.
As he stared at her, she had been watching him, taking in his height and build; suddenly her eyes had flickered to his left. He turned to follow her gaze and he saw the bed there. He turned back to her, and a hint of a smile played about his lips. She took a step forward and picked up the cup of water that sat beside his neatly folded cloak. She handed it to him, and he sipped, finding his mouth was dry; he never took his eyes from hers. She was so close to him, he could feel the heat radiating from her body, and he noted that when she took the cup back from him, she turned it so that she placed her lips deliberately where his had been. It was a provocative gesture, and the cool water left a trace on her lips. It had teased him, he stepped forward, opening his arms to her, and she stepped lightly into them, pressing the length of her body against his, their lips meeting in a burning kiss. She was so much smaller than him, she had to rise herself on tiptoes to press her lips harder against his, and he pulled her closer, almost lifting her into the air. He could feel her body through the thin material of her dress, so unlike the heavy robes that hid the shape of her curves, and his hands had roamed across her shoulders, tracing his hands the length of her spine, dropping a kiss onto her smooth skin, trailing his lips up the heat of her throat, feeling the blood pulsing there, rapid with desire.
Unable to resist anymore, she reached for the clasps of his tunic, and gently but surely snapped them undone. His tunic came away, and he stood bare chested in front of her, wearing only the thick trousers that protected his legs in combat. She stroked the hard muscle of his chest, toned by hours of training, and of years of war. Her small hand was as light as air; she teased him, her hand trailing to his stomach, to entwine in the line of coarse dark hair she found there. Her lips were curved in a smile, her eyes dark with desire as she placed his hand over his heart. Suddenly he grasped her hand, and held it there, pressing it against his chest so she could feel his heart beat, racing with his own passion for her.
"My heart belongs to you. You and no other. While it still beats, I shall desire nothing but you. Nothing."
She smiled up at him, and whispered her reply, "And I, you."
Again, overwhelmed by the strength of his love for her, he drew her into his embrace.
Laying her on his bed, he was pleased that she did not fear his touch, but rather invited it, caressing him in return, never shying away from him. Her dress was tied simply and undoing the clip, he pulled the material away from her, and she was naked before him. Her body was both hard and soft at once, muscled by the exercises she took, but soft, with smooth skin, high pert breasts, and strong thighs, soft as silk. She helped him from his trousers, her hand already reaching for him, and he trembled as she touched him. Gently she pushed him down, until he lay on his back, and her hair brushed his stomach as her warm mouth enveloped him. Eventually he pulled her away, his mouth seeking her throat, his fingers trailing over her breasts, along her stomach until she parted her legs willingly for him. He found the place he was looking for, and she moaned, her breath already coming quicker, and he touched her, listening to her sighs, and little gasps of pleasure until she cried out his name, pulling him closer and closer to her, and he was inside her, her legs wrapped around his back, and he forgot his gentleness, as she kissed him fiercely, and he was lost in her and all the sensations he was feeling.
They made love until the sky began to lighten. Daya saw the light coming, and reluctantly untangled herself from him. As she clambered over him, he pulled her back down to him, their lips meeting, his hand already sliding up her thighs, until she pulled away with a small groan. She dressed quickly and picked up her circlet from where it had fallen and was gone, as silently as she had arrived.
Exhausted, Boromir had fallen into a deep sleep.
He had only slept for an hour before he was woken by the first bell of the morning. Breakfast had been taken in the same hall as the night before, and Denethor had taken in the silence of his son, the dark circles under his eyes, the hand constantly rising to his mouth to smother a yawn. It took several attempts to gain his attention, and once caught, it was easily lost. Denethor glanced down the hall to Veradan's daughter, his future daughter by marriage, and saw the same dark circles bruising her eyes, her swollen lips trying to hold back her own yawn. Yet she glowed with an inner light, despite the tiredness. He caught Veradan's eye and nodded in the direction of his daughter. It was apparent that Veradan had also noticed the lethargy of the young couple. A small smile and a nod were returned. Denethor suppressed his own smile, and laid a hand on his surprised son's shoulder. It was good if they were already bedded, Gondor would need heirs. Denethor was pleased by how well the situation was. All was good for Gondor.
That night, and every night, soon after Boromir had retired for the evening, a small knock would sound on his door, and Daya would return to his chamber. They would make love, sleep, and wake already reaching for each other, then sleep again. But as dawn broke, Daya would rise, and slip away, back to her own chamber. For Boromir the days were a tedious mix of council meetings, training and formalities, all designed to break the couple apart, and he would wish the sun away, and hope that night would soon appear, her presence marked by the moon. He would feign tiredness, pretending not to see the knowing looks of his father, and wait for Daya and her love to return to him.
Boromir had thought, that like many of his ancestors, he would be a man that would shun marriage, preferring instead the joy of battle, and seeking pleasure from battle alone. Instead with great ceremony he wedded Daya, and took her to be his wife.
Daya wore robes of the purest white, her arms bare, and the material fine and layered, disturbingly reminiscent of the gown she had worn to his chamber that first night. His own robes were even heavier than usual, uncomfortable and stifling, as he watched her enter the hall, proud with all the dignity of her forefathers. Her circlet was bright against the darkness of her hair, her eyes dark, her lips were as pink as a rose, her steps light and controlled. As he watched her walk towards him he forgot all discomfort. He barely heard the words spoken over his head as he watched her, but finally with a delicate piece of thread, their wrists were bound together. They would remain joined like this for the feast, to symbolize their union, but later the thread would be cut, and a half tied as a necklace around each of their throats, for the period of their confinement. The couple were left alone in their private living area for a fortnight, in the hopes that children would be born within the year. It was a tradition that Boromir had previously deemed pointless, that removed soldiers from their duty, but as Daya was declared his wife, he was eager to be alone with her at last, to fall asleep with her, and not to be left at dawn. Earlier that day Daya's possessions had been brought to his chamber, where they would live, and begin their new life together.
At last they were married and could be together. Their confinement was a happy time for them, and Boromir smiled at the memory of it. They would forget to eat, and would suddenly be ravenous, or they would dream about the future, with peace in Gondor, and the number of children they would have. It was as if destiny had declared that there was no other person they could be with. Destiny decreed that Boromir and Daya would meet, and eventually marry. But now, feeling alone on a mountain, in the cold night air, Boromir thought of his wife, and he ached for her.
"Daya." he whispered, just to hear her name out loud. It was difficult to get comfortable on the cold, hard ground, but he managed as best as he could, and dreamt once more of her. This time though he saw them surrounded by both dark and blonde haired children.
A distance away, but still under the same moon, Daya shifted in the bed she usually shared with Boromir, but in which she had slept alone for so many months now. She heard a whisper in her dream, and replied "Boromir." She settled farther into sleep.