Chapter 7: Love
This is my own thing, this didn't happen in book or movie, as you can tell. Hehehehehehe! Thanx Crystalhorse72 and Connor Wolf!*hugs them* "Taur" means "forest" in Sindarin.
Disclaimer: Song by The Mediaeval Babes. They're really good.
**************************************************************************************** Account of Boromir
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So ethereal was she, dressed in billowing silver velvet, she nearly glowed in the mid-morning sun. And yet a rapier was hung from a belt that was girt about her waist. Strange for a woman, to say the least. Despite that, I instantly grew weak in the knees as she brushed past me on her way down the many paths of Rivendell. I had to support my weight by leaning against a tree on the side of the narrow path. This should not have happened: we had known each other for a long time. But I was lost and wished to know this great Elven haven. "Aertali?" I called, hoping she would not notice me. But she turned and cocked a fine eyebrow. Oh, how perfect, how deep and blue her eyes were…I never remembered them to be such…shaking my head, I went to her. Much to my surprise, she was nearly as tall as I: she had always been on the small side. When we were we were in our adolescence, my friends back in Gondor would tease her. I would fend them off with several threats, but as they threw insults at her, she just stood calmly, a look of amusement etched on her features. In faulty Sindarin, I said: "Might I walk with thee?"
The drawn line of her lips curved up in a smile and parted for a laugh, before replying in fluid Westernesse. "Goodness, Boromir, there is no need to speak in Elvish to me. I know Westernesse and Westron, whichever you might prefer. I may be an Elven princess, but I could not care less. And call me Kit!" she said between giggles.
"Of course…Kit. May I walk with you?" She nodded. Her strides were slowed, less hurried, as I walked beside her. "Why is it that you wield a rapier?" I asked, speaking in Westron. Her gaze hardened.
"I have every right to," she said. Her voice was strained: I could tell she was trying hard not to snap. "Solomar has saved my life so many times. Without him, I would be dead." I had not noticed before, but there were three silver scars: one across her temple, one across her cheek, and the other, the longest, a long streak about seven inches long from the base of her neck to the fabric of her dress. A blow from an orc's blade, most likely seeking to cut out her heart. I reached up to caress the mark of battle on her temple, to help sooth the memory of pain, but she jerked her head away almost grotesquely before collecting her movements once more.
Not ready, then…yet, I hoped. "Boromir, please…don't…" she murmured, her voice low and serious. There was a silence between us as the robins and the jays and the sparrows called to each other. A cascade of golden, red and orange leaves fell upon us. Several landed in her hair and I plucked one out, a beautiful mixture red and orange, and gave it to her. She took and smiled, only to look up to meet my gaze. For the first time, I could see joy dancing in her eyes, but it was reserved. I smiled in pity.
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Account of Kit
Pity. The last thing I needed. To get away from the swirling pit of desire in my stomach, I ran ahead, steadying Solomar with my hand. I came to the bank of the mountain lake that Arwen and I had discovered when we were little, as well as curious and rebellious. Unbuckling my belt, I laid it upon the grass and stripped off the silver dress I wore, revealing a gray silk slip. Feeling Boromir's eyes on me, I briskly walked down the sandy beach to find the deepest spot. It was warm for autumn, and the heat pressed in on my bared skin like a blanket. I anxiously jumped in with the special call that Arwen and I had agreed upon as girls.
An answering call came from the great palace, and soon enough, while I floated carelessly upon my back, she came running. She too stripped off the velvet she wore, dark blue today. Her slip was a beautiful light sapphire that matched her eyes to perfection. She dove in like a swan, coming up on the other side of me. For quite a long time, we played pranks upon each other and relieved our grace for a while: something that my Uncle, her father, had never allowed us to do within his view.
As the dusk fell, Arwen and I had successfully swam to the other side of the lake, something we had never dared to do before. We slowly drifted back towards the diving bank, and the stars winked merrily at us from the midnight blue sky. My thoughts suddenly came to Boromir. All I could see was his youthful face, his muscular body. "Kit?" Arwen said and she nudged me gently. I looked over at her and smiled. "My apologies, Arwen. I was just thinking…" "About what?" I rolled my eyes playfully. She was too curious for her own good. "Boromir." I answered truthfully. My cousin raised her fine eyebrows and smiled. "Stop it," I said, pushing her playfully.
We reached the shore and we heaved ourselves up onto the fallen leaves and the grass, laughing. Boromir had gone in: I did not blame him. But there was something Arwen and I should have been doing now…
"The feast!" she cried and we hastily did our best to dry our hair and free our dresses of the leaves dotting them in ridiculous patterns of red, orange, and gold. No slips tonight: they were soaked. Sliding the velvet over our heads, we dashed back to the House of Elrond.
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Auspiciously, we had not been missed until the moment we elegantly walked into the Dining Hall. My uncle glanced at us and my cheeks flushed in shame. "Ah, so the two princesses have decided to join us," he scolded gently as we approached. "The other maidens await." he said as he motioned to the long line of our sweet-voiced friends. They smiled and gestured to the gap in the middle of the row saved for us. We took our places with apologetic grins and the song began with the flute:
Ah si mon moine vouliet danser
Un capuchon je lui donnerai,
Danse, mon moine danse
Tu n'entends pas le danse
Tu n'entends pas moulin-lon-la
Tu n'entends pas
Mon moulin marcher
Ah si mon moine voulait danser
Un ceinturon je lui donnerai
Danse, mon moine danse
Tu n'entends pas le danse
Tu n'entends pas moulin-lon-la
Tu n'entends pas
Mon moulin marcher!
Ah is mon moine voulait danser
Un chapelet je lui donnerai
Danse, mon moine danse
Tu n'entends pas le danse
Tu n'entends pas moulin-lon-la
Tu n'entends pas
Mon moulin marcher!
Ah is mon moine voulait danser
Un beau psautier je lui donnerai
Danse, mon moine danse
Tu n'entends pas le danse
Tu n'entends pas moulin-lon-la
Tu n'entends pas
Mon moulin marcher!
Si'l n'avait fait voeu de pauvrete
Bien d'autres chos' he lui donnerais
Danse, mon moine danse
Tu n'entends pas le danse
Tu n'entends pas moulin-lon-la
Tu n'entends pas
Mon moulin marcher!
And so the song ended. The whole hall clapped and cat-called as we laughed and pranced back to our seats among all the guests. I sat down in my usual seat across from Arwen, Frodo to the right of me, his uncle Bilbo to my left. Bilbo laid his hand on mine in the common greeting of the Rivendell Elves, and one that I strongly disapproved of. "Well done, Aertali! Your voice makes the sun and the stars shine brighter," he commented. I rolled my eyes playfully. "Thank you, Bilbo, but that was nothing compared to my cousin." I added modestly, motioning with my wine goblet to Arwen.
She chuckled and shook her head, thanking me. But I noticed Frodo was silent, an shade of crimson coming to his cheeks as I gazed at him, that I found strangely attractive. Probably remembering the bath. Rolling my eyes again, I set to eating.
Soon enough, the feast ended and Elrond dismissed everyone to do what they would. It was my time to read in the library.
Frodo came in soon after I had picked up my volume, bound in black velvet, titled "Taur" in wavy, silver writing. His knees began to tremble as I gazed at him. "Frodo? What's wrong?" I had helped heal him, and would not let him fall into illness again. "Nothing. I just feel I need to speak to you." Closing my book, I motioned to the chair across from me. He heavily sat down, his good hand gripping the chair as if to steady himself.
Cocking an eyebrow, I set my book in my lap and sat back, waiting. "Kit?" he began. "Yes?" I answered. "Have you ever loved someone and they did not return your feelings?" I shook my head slowly. He nodded and stood. "Thank you for your time, Kit." he said and began to leave. "Frodo," I called and curled a finger to signal him to come. He instantly obeyed.
"I wanted to have feelings for…someone. I showed him love I did not feel, and he soon righted my mind. We're just friends now." "Who was he?" the hobbit asked eagerly. I hesitated. "Strider."
He nodded and left quickly. With a sigh, I put my book back and went to my room.