Vicki (Elven Sword) suggested that I try to write my fanfic like how I write my poems and other types of prose, and so this chapter will be me giving it a go!
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CHAPTER 11 : The "Betrayal"
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With Faramir gone, Aislin threw herself headfirst into her work. She scrubbed, washed and dusted harder than anyone else, and Marian was really quite pleased with how much effort she put into her work, although at times she began to worry that Aislin was working too hard. "Why don't you rest, Aislin?" she finally asked. "You haven't been out and about in the city for such a long time! There are plenty of us here to do the work. Why don't you take the day off?" Although she made it sound like questions, Aislin could tell that there was no question about the matter at all, and so was forced to take a day off.
She went to visit her mother, only to find her busy with spring-cleaning, and so Aislin decided not to disrupt her work, and went on her way again. She had wanted to go to the beacon, but decided against it. She did not want to stand there alone. So there was only one more place… the library. Good. I do not think Boromir would be there. And so she made her way to the library.
She sat in a corner, drowning herself in the book, trying not to think of anything else. It is safe here, Boromir will not be here… I am safe from him, and from myself. She admitted to herself that she was afraid, afraid of being left alone with Boromir. When they were alone she felt this bond between them that she feared, that she so desperately tried to push away. The last thing she needed was to be alone with Boromir.
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No matter how hard it tried, it seemed that fate would not go as she wished that day. As she was leaving the library, she walked straight into Boromir. Both of them jumped, and then reddened. "Good afternoon, Aislin," Boromir said politely, as befits acquaintances. She knew that they just had to behave this way when they were around each other, but it still tore at her heart.
"Good afternoon, Boromir. Ah… I didn't know you still come to the library."
"I do not think that it's healthy for one to be thinking about soldiers and strategies all the time. Faramir has always found refuge in his books, and I thought that perhaps I could learn a thing or two from him. Are you just leaving?" Something in Boromir's eyes begged her to stay with him, and she looked down at her feet, nodding. Boromir hesitated for a moment, then turned. "Then I think I would like to spend the day with you, if you do not mind."
To that, she had no word of protest. It was impossible to deny him, or herself.
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Boromir and Aislin spent the rest of the day wandering about the city. They spoke of many things, and Faramir was often mentioned, as though both sides wanted to remind themselves of his existence. But then he began to fade from their conversations, and the walls that they had built between them began to come crashing down. Aislin found herself laughing without feeling guilty, and Boromir found himself lost in her carefree smile without feeling like he was trespassing on something. They began to relax, and it seemed not to matter when both sides felt that inescapable bond.
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They did not return home until night fell. Boromir had missed his dinner, but he did not feel hungry at all. In fact, he was oblivious to everything else but the way the moonlight cast a beautiful, ethereal look over Aislin's face. He heard nothing but the sound of her voice and her laugh.
"Well, thank you, I had a good time today," she was saying to him.
And then he was kissing her, or she was kissing him… he neither knew nor cared which way it was. All that mattered was that she was in his arms and that he had finally got what he had been dreaming of for so long. Why hadn't they done this before? What had stood between them…?
Both recoiled at the same time, suddenly remembering what it was that had kept them apart. Faramir. He saw the look of horror in her face, and knew that it was reflected in him. How could they have done this to Faramir? "I'm so sorry…" he began to say.
Aislin shook her head, tears running down her cheeks, and fled.
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The knowledge of betrayal is not something that let's go easily. It clings to your heart, holds on to your soul. Everyday you will try to forget, try to seek the peace of mind you had before, but there is no shaking off the guilt, no shaking off the memory. The knowledge of betrayal will haunt you, haunt every waking moment, and dwell in your dreams. There is never any escape.