Meanwhile, Boromir paced the paths of the gardens in a state of unrest. Little did he know that Lasmenel had also spent the night awake, lying on her side gazing at the night sky and thinking of his face when she had tried to sleep. He was about to resume his planned walk back to the house to find Aragorn when his ears caught the whistle of a blade cutting through the air. Pacing up the slight rise in the land he breached the small hill to find Lasmenel in a small clearing, oblivious to his approach. She swayed constantly, her eyes closed, the blade of her curved sword slicing the air in a dance like set of swings and thrusts, as if her grace was given to the weapon she held.

Boromir stepped closer towards her, his eyes roaming the silvery strands of her hair that brushed against her back, still wanting to smooth them with his firm hands.

In one swift movement, Lasmenel swung round to face him and brought the blade down in a cutting motion to point at his chest.

Boromir raised his hands in a peaceable fashion, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth upwards.

Lasmenel opened her eyes.

"You should be more wary of my blade, Boromir; it is sharp".

"As sharp as your tongue?"

Lasmenel smiled knowingly and he felt his palms tingle. She lowered the sword from his chest and sheathed it quietly. She regarded him with her eyes, that travelled over his face and body in a manner that made him feel vulnerable, despite the authoritative stature he had.

"Will you spar with me, Boromir?"

Boromir looked down at the place where his sword should have been.

"Again you find me unarmed, Lasmenel".

She smiled knowingly, and walked over to the foot of a nearby tree and produced a short sword, similar to that which he carried, and threw it to him. Boromir caught it with an expert hand and examined the blade. It was surprisingly light, and the hilt was carved with Elven runes that he could not read. It was a fine sword.

Lasmenel smiled warmly at his perusal of the weapon. Boromir caught the look on her face as he glanced at her and his heart gladdened. They assumed defensive positions. Lasmenel faced the captain as they circled slowly around each other, before striking out with a sideways swipe of her sword. Boromir countered the attack with an upward manoeuvre. The blades clashed together and the two instinctively swung again, each time their blades countering the other's attack, match for match.

By the fourth round of sparring they were still even. Boromir held his sword out in front of him, his breath tearing a little with the exertion of their play. Lasmenel raised an elegant eyebrow.

"You tire so quickly, son of Gondor?", she coyly asked.

Boromir grinned.

"I wish to raise the stakes of our swordplay, Lasmenel'.

"Indeed?", she lowered her blade a little.

"I would claim a prize for succeeding", he murmured, hoping that the ardour in his voice did not show as it broke slightly.

Lasmenel lowered her gaze and peered at him from under her long lashes.

"What prize would the Captain of Gondor claim?", she asked in a low voice.

"A kiss", came the bold reply.

She thrilled to hear his choice but decided against showing this. Assuming an aggressive stance, she pointed the tip of her sword at his head.

"You would have to earn it first", she returned.

Boromir tensed into a defensive position as Lasmenel flew at him, her blade sweeping in

circles of light as her long tresses swung around her beautiful face. He parried, fighting off her amazingly swift attacks, marvelling at the speed and ferocity of her swordplay. Fending off a low swing of her sword,Boromir ducked under its rise as the steel cut above his head, and thrusting upwards and around, swung her blade into a neutral position and pointed his at her throat as she stood.

Lasmenel looked at her feet. "It seems I underestimated your skill, son of Gondor", she admitted.

Boromir nodded and stepped closer. She looked up at him with her powerful gaze and transfixed him to the spot. Boromir tentatively reached up and held the line of her face in an admiring hand and looked at her almost reverently.

The woods were silent but for their breathing.

Boromir haltingly bent down to kiss her. He closed his eyes at the fragrance of her hair and drank in her scent like a drowning man in need of air. Lasmenel tried to read his thoughts by perusing his face with hooded eyes, and realised that he was still fighting with himself, whether to cast aside his impenetrable defences, and that this delayed his movements.

Sighing softly, she stepped back from him unwillingly and clashed the steel of her sword against his, sweeping the blade up in a circular motion away from his side.

Boromir opened his eyes, rudely awakened from his reverie.

"You tarry too long, son of Gondor", came her observation, which was swiftly followed with a lethal swipe at his chest. Boromir leapt backwards to avoid the glittering steel and thrust forwards with his short sword. Lasmenel spun as she countered the attack, sending the blade spinning out of his grasp and into the undergrowth.

She slid the tip of her blade carefully along his cheek. Boromir inwardly shuddered as the keen edge travelled along his skin, but trusted her steady hand and remained impassive until the curved tip of the sword left his face.

Lasmenel expertly manoeuvred her sword, drawing a perfect horizontal figure of eight in front of her before replacing the blade in its scabbard.

She faced him silently, a whisper of a breeze stirring her long tresses slightly.

"I would have you cast off your warrior's pride, if for one moment, Boromir, if it meant that I could glimpse the man beneath the stern brow and grim appearance. It seems I overestimated your willingness to reveal your true feelings".

Her words pricked his pride. Boromir walked away and retrieved the sword she had relieved him of. Approaching her with a purposeful stride, he smote the earth with the blade, stabbing it downwards into the ground halfway to its hilt. Drawing up to her, Boromir stood a fraction away from her and placed a confident hand on her shoulder, feeling the shape of her under the soft fabric of her gown. Lasmenel looked at his hand on her shoulder and returned her gaze to his, daring him to continue.

He reached for the belt that held her sword and roughly undid it with a tugging motion, the blade thudding to the ground. Boromir grasped her waist firmly with a strong arm.

Boromir leant down for her mouth and trembled as his lips grazed hers, soft and pliant. He gathered his courage and pressed his mouth to hers firmly but with a gentleness he did not know he possessed. Lasmenel reached a hand up to frame the back of his head, her fingers running through the hair that swung by his cheekbones, a low growl smouldering in his throat.

Boromir pulled her closer so that they were touching. He felt the ground beneath him sway as Lasmenel drew him to her, drowning in the slow burning of their mouths fusing together as they tasted each other. A feeling of warmth came over him, and spread again and again as he kissed her. He yielded to it and plundered her mouth with his, his tongue expertly probing its depths, skilfully lathing his tongue over hers. Her hands were at his chest now, and he shivered as they travelled fleetingly over the skin that his tunic did not cover.

Lasmenel felt him tremble and suddenly that aching feeling she had been experiencing fluctuated, melting away and returning again as she kissed the warrior, the man, feeling him yield to the kiss. Possessively they grappled at each others' clothes.

They drew away momentarily, his face so close to hers yet not touching it. Their mouths brushed against each other again. Boromir sighed as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Lasmenel stroked his wounded cheek as she stared into his eyes as they wavered, unsure of whether to meet her gaze or look away.

"Are you satisfied with the reward for your efforts?" she whispered slyly, her breath caressing his seared lips, his mouth almost snarling with want.

"-Yes", came his reply, his voice low and husky.

Lasmenel stroked the faint scar on his cheek once more and walked slowly away, still unwilling to leave him again, but knowing that if she did not he would never leave Rivendell, he would not protect the Ringbearer on his perilous journey. The Fellowship was made of the Nine. There could not be one left behind, even through his own choice. She closed her eyes and lowered her head at the thought of Boromir's departure. Then, drawing on her resolve, she turned to face him before she left.

"You must decide what it is that you want, son of Gondor. I am no unknowing and naïve child to be weaned on the half fulfilled wishes of others. I am not to be trifled with. Therefore I must leave you to your thoughts, but be swift in your decision, for I will not wait forever, despite the depth of my feelings".

The depth of her feelings. The simple sentence rang, bell-like in Boromir's head. Did Lasmenel want him as much as he did her? Was it possible? She, fearless and beautiful sword maiden, fair almost beyond his comprehension loved him? These questions and a hundred others swamped his head and blurred his vision as he watched her tread silently away, out of the clearing, down the hill and out of sight.

She was wondrous fair. And for one who had lived among such fair folk as the Elves to choose to touch him, only a mortal man, when any of the immortal folk would be more than an equal partner for her, was ludicrous, incredible. Pondering her life among the Elves made him think of Legolas. A twinge of jealousy rose up in him when he remembered the tall Elf telling him of Lasmenel. He seemed to know so much about her, while he himself knew almost nothing. Boromir strode off to find Legolas, intent to know if he had a rival for the - and he drew his breath sharply at the thought - the love of his sword maiden.

The man brushed through the low growing shrubbery and emerged onto the crisp lawns.