*** Finally, another chapter. Sorry for the delay!! And everybody who's reading this: Thanks so much for still being with me and my story! I really appreciate it a lot. Thanks for your patience. I hope you like the new chapter. (Note: This wasn't beta-read. I apologize in advance for the mistakes I've made.)***

The next day started early for everybody who somehow was to be involved in the later wedding ceremonies. Boromir got up with the first rays of the rising sun and reluctantly put himself into the hands of several servants who swarmed around him like a flock of bees around a jar of honey. He didn't really understand all the trouble that was made and his mood shifted to the worse with every passing minute. He was still in pain from his healing injuries and he was tired, and though he was looking forward to finally taking Aerilyn as his lawful wife, the whole fuss-making about today's event was getting on his nerves. After long, exhausting hours of getting prepared for the festivities, the servants rushed off and granted their lord a few minutes on his own before he would get fetched and brought to the location of the marriage ceremony.

Boromir took the opportunity to have an undisturbed, thorough look at himself in the huge mirror that happened to be in the room he was waiting. It felt as if it wasn't his reflection but a total stranger who gazed back at him from the mirror. If the sight of his bruised face hadn't mercilessly stirred up unpleasant memories, Boromir would have laughed at the absurd combination of the precious, cheerfully sparkling clothing and the maltreated head on top of it.

He was dressed in very costly, creme-coloured garments with exorbitant adornments in glittering gold and shimmering silver, definitely the most expensive - and most uncomfortable - wardrobe he had ever worn in his whole life. The very high and extremely stiff collar was so tight that the hard fabric was practically cutting into the skin of his neck, and the long, velvety cape tore at his shoulders as it had even more and heavier ornamentation than the rest of his clothes.

Swallowing with much effort, Boromir stepped closer to the mirror and eyed his face more accurately. His unusually pale skin was flecked with ugly bruises and there were dark shadows under his eyes. He still had a terribly black eye, but at least the swellings were almost gone completely. What bothered him most was his lower lip that had been split at various points when he had received several hard punches right in the face. Slowly, he pulled the exquisite glove from his right hand and traced the line of his injured, awfully rough lip with a bare fingertip. This was definitely not what lips that were to seal a wedding should feel like.

His gaze still focused on his own battered face, Boromir slid his hand back into the pale glove and, in a habitual gesture, rested it onto the hilt of his favourite sword that hung at his side, stuck in a golden scabbard crusted over with colorful gems and polished to perfection.

"Maybe I should wear a veil today, too..." he muttered under his breath, his low voice dripping with bitter sarcasm when the image of his beaten betrothed came to his mind.

"Excuse me?" a bewildered voice asked from the doorframe. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing," Boromir replied, dropping out of his deep thoughts in an instant, and quickly turned around to face his younger brother who was dressed in stunningly beautiful garments as well. The huge difference between them, how Boromir noticed immediately, was that Faramir looked natural in them.

Natural and impossibly comely, Boromir thought as he discreetly scanned his sibling from top to toe. Aloud, he only managed a curt "Neat, Faramir." His brother accepted the seemingly mediocre compliment with a genuine smile. He knew it was actually the highest form of praise Boromir could offer.

"Thank you, but I think I can't bear comparison with you today," Faramir replied politely and approached his sibling with enthusiastic strides.

"I look ridiculous," Boromir commented dryly.

"Nonsense. You look very noble and elegant."

"Faramir, please."

"I mean it!" Faramir protested when his brother shot him a warning gaze. "Why can't you stop being so pessimistic about everything for one minute?"

"Because," Boromir said a little gruffly, "these clothes are distressing, to say the least! I've never ever worn anything this uncomfortable!"

"This is one of the joys that come with marriage, I suppose," the younger brother teased with an amused grin upon his fair features.

"I will remind you of that wise saying of yours on your wedding day."

Faramir gave a short but hearty laugh. "You are very welcome to do that, one day when the time has come. For now, you need to stop whining. The ceremonies will start in only short time, you should start practicing to smile a little."

"How shall I smile if I can't even breathe in this cursed thing!" Boromir blurted out. "This collar will be my death!"

With the brusque words, he hooked his gloved fingers with the stiff collar and tugged at it to demonstrate to Faramir how unbelievably tight it was. Too late did he realize that his motion was somewhat too harsh...

A little gasp of horror wrenched itself from Boromir's throat when he felt the large clasp that held the collar together loosen from the fabric. Paralyzed, he watched it going off his clothes with the unpleasant sound of ripping textile and falling down to the ground.

"Great, Boromir. You just managed to tear one of the most precious heirlooms off your wedding garments and at the same time damage the collar of your suit," Faramir said as he squatted down to pick up the clasp that bore the engravings of the tree of Gondor. Fate was cruel enough to pick exactly this moment to let their father burst into the room.

"Boromir!" Denethor barked and totally ignored the younger one of the men, much to both brother's relief. Unnoticed, Faramir straightened up and quickly clasped his hands behind his back, holding on to the buckle from his brother's collar.

"Yes, father?" Boromir replied, his voice totally calm again, but Faramir could see the nervous twitch at the corner of his brother's right eye. It was such a tiny detail that no one ever noticed, not even Boromir's own father, but Faramir always had been a very attentive observer of the smallest things.

Without adding another word, Denethor grabbed the gloved hand of his startled firstborn and slapped a roll of paper into the large, open palm.

"What's that?" Boromir asked in confusion as he brought also his other hand up to enroll the piece of paper so he could read what was written on it.

"I revised your speech," Denethor explained while Faramir was still standing some feet behind his back and studying his brother's face. The twitch was getting worse, he noted. Boromir was getting angry. Really angry.

No wonder father doesn't notice Boromir is almost bursting, Faramir thought. He doesn't even notice the buckle is missing.

"What was wrong with my speech?" Boromir demanded.

"Read the new version and you will know. You have about ten more minutes. I think that will do to learn this one by heart."

Before Boromir could reply, Denethor turned away from him, suddenly facing Faramir instead.

"Father!" Boromir protested from behind, but his sharp call showed no effect. Denethor didn't even listen to him anymore. Something else had caught his attention.

"What are you hiding, Faramir?" he asked his younger son.

"Nothing."

"Faramir! Don't you dare lie under my roof! What is it you are hiding from me?"

"The... clasp," Faramir said in a rather low voice, shooting an apologizing gaze towards his brother.

"The clasp?" Denethor repeated, obviously not understanding what his son was talking about.

"Yes. The clasp. The family's clasp."

As soon as Faramir had voiced it, Denethor swirled around to Boromir and, when he finally saw the damage done, was speechless for a second. A condition the Steward was very rarely found in.

"What happened to it?" he then wanted to know as he turned back to Faramir. Boromir opened his mouth to give an explanation, but Faramir cut him off even before he had the chance to get the first word out.

"I accidentally ripped it off Boromir's collar," Faramir said, much to his big brother's surprise.

"You did what?!" Denethor snarled, his voice building to an intimidating crescendo.

"Faramir didn't do anything, it was I who ruined it," Boromir suddenly said from behind, causing Denethor to turn around to face him again.

"You?" the old Steward asked, obviously deeply shocked about the just received information.

"Yes, me. I alone am responsible," Boromir stated matter-of-factly.

"Do you realize what this clasp means to the family? I wore it the day I wedded your dear mother. And my father wore it on his wedding. It was given from generation to generation. It is an honour to wear this, and you have nothing better to do than... rip it off?! One should think you had a greater understanding of habits and traditions that were carried on with our lineage. I am in huge dismay about your unbelievable lack of respect for our family and Gondor."

"I didn't do it on purpose. It was an accident," Boromir emphasized.

"You cannot afford any accidents, Boromir," Denethor stated and held his open hand out to the younger of his two sons. Wordlessly, Faramir dropped the buckle onto his father's palm.

"You will put that back on," the Steward told Boromir and with a rough motion pushed the clasp into his son's hand that wasn't holding the roll of paper. His voice was calm but bore a dangerous undertone. "I don't care if you have to sew it on with your very own hands. You won't marry without it. Is that understood?"

Not willing to listen to any contradictions, the Steward of Gondor turned away and headed towards the door. Before he left the room, he came to one more halt, but didn't make the effort to turn around to look at his sons when he spoke.

"And don't forget about that speech," he ordered gruffly and then exited, slamming the door shut behind his back with a loud bang. Boromir stared at his brother, slightly baffled, but soon found his tongue.

"I can't believe you just lied into our father's face. For me."

"It is your wedding day, after all. I didn't want him to get furious with you today."

"That was really stupid of you, now he's furious with both of us. And twice as furious with you in particular," Boromir pointed out but couldn't help smiling. In fact his brother's deed, though it hadn't been honourable at all, warmed his heart. Since he couldn't get himself to form appropriate words, Boromir just stepped forward and drew his younger sibling into a tight, brotherly hug. Faramir relaxed into his big brother's embrace and stood still for a few moments, eyes closed and thoughts revolving around how sorrowful his life would be if Boromir had died from his injuries.

"I've missed you," Faramir said simply when he gently broke from his brothers embrace. For a few seconds, they looked one another in the eyes without saying anything. Just when Boromir wanted to reply similar words to tell his sibling that he had missed him as well, Faramir clapped his hands together and destroyed the thoughtful, melancholy moment.

"Let's go find somebody to fix your collar and reattach the clasp so you can get married!" he suggested cheerfully. "We better hurry or you won't manage to learn your revised speech."

Before Faramir could react, Boromir swatted the roll of paper against the side of his head. Laughing, Faramir tried to duck away but his brother was too quick and bombarded him with a series of playful slaps, almost tearing the roll of paper to pieces.

"Stop it, Boromir! You need to be ready in less than ten minutes!" Faramir cried out, still laughing, but it didn't show any effects.

"There's always time left to give my beloved baby brother a decent whacking," Boromir announced, a wide grin upon his face, and then lunged forward in an attempt to catch Faramir's head in the lock of his right arm.

"Ready?" Atalar asked after entering the room in which Aerilyn was being dressed.

"Almost," his sister sighed as she turned around to face him and to allow one of the maidens to tighten the laces on the back of her dress. She couldn't suppress a smile when she saw the admiring expression on Atalar's face.

"You look so beautiful, Lyn," he complimented her promptly, causing her to blush slightly. "Boromir won't believe his eyes when he sees you."

"You're exaggerating," she said laughing and then sat back down on a small bench so the maidens could put the finishing touches to the incredibly pretty arrangements of her raven hair. When one of the young women wanted to attach the veil, Aerilyn quickly raised her hand to stop her.

"Would you be so kind and leave me a minute?" she asked when the maidens looked at her questioningly. "I'd like to talk to my brother. Alone."

The servants withdrew silently while Aerilyn stood up and gently grabbed Atalar's hands. He showed a very open, genuine smile and she thought that she hadn't seen him like this in a very long time. Though she was glad, it surprised her. She had expected him to be sad about the fact that they would live in separate empires from today on.

"Are you happy?" she asked.

"Are you?" he asked back, moving his hands so hers lay in his.

"Yes. Very."

"Then I'm happy, too," Atalar announced, a little too cheerfully.

"Atalar... You know you will always hold a special place in my heart, don't you?"

"Yes, I know. Don't worry about me."

"But I care about you. Promise me that you will write letters and visit me as often as you can."

"I promise."

With a loud sigh, she leaned against him.

"I miss you already," she murmured while his arms closed around her. Before he could reply, she backed away again, breaking out of his embrace.

"You smell of horses," she pointed out with a grin.

"I've been at the stables."

"In this wardrobe?" she asked and cocked an eyebrow.

"Legolas was adorning some of the horses for the parade, I thought I could give him a hand."

"You really do like him, don't you?" Lyn asked him with a grin.

"He's very kind," Atalar only said. He had never told Aerilyn about his suicidal attempt and that it had been Legolas who had kept him from putting an end to his life, and he didn't intend to do so such short time before her wedding.

"I'm sure he is," Aerilyn said. "If you like him so much, he must be special. After all you are really heavy-going with making friends."

"Is this a lecture?" Atalar asked, still smiling.

"No! Of course not. I wouldn't dare give my big brother a lecture." She reached out to where she had been sitting and picked up the veil.

"May I put it on?" Atalar asked enthusiastically.

"Oh, I bet you will look wonderful!" Aerilyn said chuckling and handed him the veil.

"I'd be honoured if you did it," she said solemnly.

"It will be my pleasure," he replied. As soon as he had finished with his sentence, Aerilyn turned all pale and the cheerful expression on her face faded away abruptly.

"What's wrong?" her brother asked, concerned, and stepped even closer towards her, softly getting hold of her elbow. "Do you feel unwell?"

"I think I have to throw up," she whispered and lifted a hand to her mouth. Before Atalar could respond she raced out of the room. When she came back again Atalar still stood at the spot she had left him, still holding the veil in his hands.

"How do you feel?" he asked and walked towards her when she closed the door behind her back.

"Not very well," she groaned and leaned back against the door. "I feel so sick."

"Don't worry, that's only the excitement," Atalar tried to soothe her. She smiled, although she felt so miserable at the moment. He misunderstood her smile, thinking she wanted to show she was grateful that he was there to support her, and so he smiled back. The truth was that she had to smile about his ignorance of the true reason that caused her sickness. It was kind of sweet that he didn't even take this possibility into consideration. Her grin grew wider, and when she imagined the startled and shocked expression that would show on his face if she told him that Boromir had both taken her virginity and made her pregnant so many days before their wedding she had to chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Atalar asked innocently.

"Nothing," she replied and had to laugh even more.

"You act really strange, to say the least. First, everything was fine. Then you get sick all of a sudden, and now you are laughing for no reason at all. If I didn't know you better, I would say you are drunk."

"No, I'm not drunk," Aerilyn said, slowly sobering up again. "I believe you are right. I'm only a little excited."

"Of course you are. Now come here so we can get you ready for the ceremony," he said. "I just hope you won't get sick in the middle of it all."

She gave him a horrified look that caused him to laugh softly. "Don't tempt fate, Atalar!"

"I'm sorry."

"You are forgiven," she said and then joined in his chuckle.

~ I guess we will have a wedding to celebrate in the next chapter. So stay tuned. ~