Chapter 10: First Tryst
This chapter has nothing bad in it, no matter what the title. "First Tryst" was all I could think of. Sry for not updating more. I had no ideas.
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Boromir strode wistfully along the upper halls of Rivendell the next night in silence. Though only his legs moved, questions and answers flooded his mind. Kit had not been at dinner, and he wondered why on Earth she would not be there. He had moved his seat halfway down the table so he could talk to her at meals, yet she was absent the entire day. He had only seen her twice that day; first when he had first woke as she swept by him in the halls, her hair streaming out behind her, on the way to the stables, and just a little while after that as she cantered by the window on her mare just as the sun rose over the mountains.
"What am I to say?" he thought, a sudden panic coming to him as he stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening. He couldn't stand to make a fool of himself in front of her, not with the fragile love that bonded them together; he knew it would break should he make any wrong move. He swallowed hard, forcing his rapid breathing to slow, and he continued to walk down the hall, showing a false confidence.
The door to her room was open again, as he almost always found it. As he stepped in, he thought it empty: no exquisite movement graced his presence. Nothing… With a sigh, he turned to leave, but just then, a soft whisper floated through the air to his ears. "Boromir?" He turned again and he suddenly noticed the sharp outline of her form against the deep shadows of the room. He quickly went to her, pulling her into his arms from the blue velvet chair on which she sat. "Why do you seek solitude?" he questioned softly, stroking her hair.
Kit buried her head in the crook of his neck and breathed in deeply, taking in his scent: leather, iron, innocent sweat, and the sweet smell of lavender soap. He felt her smile against him; smiling back, he asked her again, thoroughly concerned. "It is the way I have always been, Boromir. Come, I'll light the fire." He could sense she was holding something back, but he did not inquire further. He sat in the chair opposite of the one she had sat in, biting his lip to hold back his desires. Oh, the shameful images that came to his mind whenever he caught a look of those beautiful eyes or a bare patch of skin just below her collarbone…
He shook his head, watching as she turned her back to him, kneeling at the stone fireplace. Within moments, she stood, dusting her hands of black soot, and sat back in her chair. A flame was blazing. Boromir quickly took up the small bottle of wine and poured two glasses. She always seemed to have an endless supply of wineglasses. "Only half full," he noted with worry. "How much did you drink before I came?" he asked, taking a sip of the heady wine. She lowered her eyes, clearly ashamed. "Half of it," she muttered so quietly he could hardly hear her. "Kit!" he exclaimed, going to her and taking her into his arms. Kissing her hair, he felt hot tears prick at the corners of his eyes at the thought of this beautiful woman wasting herself away…with wine.
She reached up to stroke back his fiery mane of hair and look into his eyes. Their gaze locked and it was a long while until he could see anything but the raging love swirling in these deep cerulean depths. "Boromir…" she whispered, and he shuddered, closing his eyes. He could not help it.
"I have to confess I have not been entirely honest with you, beloved," he said in what he hoped was a seductive voice, taking her hands in his and leading her to the bed. Both of them sat down. Unaware, his forefinger began to trace the scar above her chest. "I have been dreaming…of us…together in this bed…" His voice trailed off as he imagined them like his dream…right at that very moment. He drew his hand away as he felt her body tense under his palm. "I understand," he murmured, leaning in close. "I'm not ready for that either, but I cannot help if I dream." She glanced away, shifting backwards a little, and it was her turn to take his hand. Her delicate fingers traced the solid muscle in his upper arm, barely hesitating, yet she stopped as she came to the fourth finger of his right hand. Her gaze turned to the silver ring there and with a small sob, she turned away and nearly ran out onto the balcony.
Boromir grimaced, disgusted with himself. He went to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. He stroked her arm as she had done to him, silently noting every sadness about her now. She was gripping hard the steel rail, tarnished from weathering, as she wept. She was weak, very weak, as a sudden pain struck her like a blow to the head. "How could you pledge your love to another woman?" she cried, and her voice seemed to echo in the silent night. "Shhhhh…" he murmured, brushing his lips across the scar on her cheek. Her words then sank in. "What? I never pledged my love to anyone but you, Kit!" he said gently. "The ring," she snarled through her tears.
His eyes moved from her perfect eyes, sparkling in the moonlight, to the silver band. He winced in guilt, but a sudden agony smote his heart. "No, my beloved," he murmured sadly. "My mother gave this to me the night before she died…" Her weeping suddenly stopped. She turned herself to face him, in turn, enfolding her arms around his waist to pull him close. "Boromir, I did not realize," she whispered into his chest. "You know how I am: I jump to sudden conclusions."
It all happened so fast…
One moment, he was gazing down into the tear-washed brightness of her eyes, the next, he could feel her soft lips against his own. His eyes widened in shock, and he was amazed that his body was still functioning under these romantic circumstances.
His Kit obviously knew what she was doing. Her tongue reached up to slide its way across his lips, seeking entrance. They parted in amazement at being taken with such skill and tenderness; their tongues found each other, and almost upon instinct, they began a sensuous battle for dominance. For a long while, this continued, until a lone raven cried out from a nearby tree. They broke apart….
"That was my first kiss, you know," Boromir whispered into her ear, moving her silky hair away and grating his teeth gently across the lobe. She giggled, hunching up her shoulder to ward him off. "It was my first real one," she said with a guilty smile. "I have kissed before." "And you scold me of loving another!" he scolded playfully, lightly pushing her back into the room and onto the bed.
"I'm exhausted," he admitted, settling his hand on her cheek. "So am I," she whispered, curling up against his chest. They drifted off into sweet dreams as a nightingale sang, hoping good fortune for this pair of lovers..…