Part Two: The Breath Before the Plunge
Boromir, first born son of the Steward of Gondor, captain of his father's army, and protector of his people, glanced around the table at the others gathered for the feast. Elves on one side, dwarves on the other, and himself in a cluster of humans in the middle. He hunched his shoulders and drank from the silver goblet he'd been served with the offer that he take the cup with him when he left Rivendell. He couldn't help but feel it was also a suggestion that he not linger. But he had no intention of doing so, and the delay of a feast before they got to the business that had drawn them all there seemed to be so much foolishness.
At the head of the table sat Lord Elrond, and beside him, the wizard he knew as Incanus but whom everyone here called either Gandalf or Mithrandir. Boromir trusted neither one, but could not help respecting them. Nearby, among the ethereal nobility of Elrond's court, sat an elf woman that Boromir's eyes were repeatedly drawn to. She had golden hair that seemed alive with its own fire and a mouth of such infinite beauty the gods must have sculpted it to sing their own music. He disdained the elves for their superior airs, and yet he longed to kneel at her feet and receive the gift of her gaze.
The evening's festivities continued while he marked the minutes. Much of the remnants of food were taken away, though full plates were left before the dwarves and the curious creatures called hobbits that he'd at first taken for dwarf children. Space was cleared on the floor and the gentle wash of music that had accompanied their dinner turned to a sprightlier air, encouraging the guests to dance. Boromir drank and watched the elves bow and weave together. The hobbits were the next to give in to the sound and caper like the children he'd thought them. He found himself grinning and buried it in his cup. This was no journey for pleasure. The fate of his people hung in the balance.
His glance slid again to the elvish woman as she rose and put out her hand to the wizard who was puffing a pipe with satisfaction. He could not catch their exchange of words, though he wished he could hear, just once, the sound of her voice.
Across from him sat the ranger he'd encountered brooding in the dark, the night he arrived, the one who seemed so at home in Rivendell, though he was no elf. He claimed to be a friend to the elves and spoke their tongue. Boromir had largely ignored him through the meal, but now he caught his eye and directed his attention to the golden-haired woman.
"Who is she?" he asked.
"Ah." The ranger nodded as if he understood Boromir's interest. "She's called Elanna, the gift of the stars. She is one most honored by the Eldar."
Elanna had drawn Gandalf the Grey from his throne-like chair and led him to the center of the room among the dancers. He bowed to her and took her hand, holding it high to spin her around in a circle about him. Boromir thought it was kind of her to dance with the old wizard, though he was surprised at the sprightliness with which the wizard trod the floor. Joy spun from the lady's flashing feet. The swirl of her path brought her face to face with an elf lord with long golden hair like herself and the straight back of a warrior. He cut in to be her partner now and she grinned, making a circuit around him.
"Does she live here?" Boromir asked. "Or is she one of those that came with him." He jutted his chin toward the elf princeling that had arrived from the dark forests to the northeast.
"Yes, she has a permanent place in Elrond's House," the ranger replied. Then he smiled. "And her heart is taken."
Boromir snorted and pretended to drink again, though his cup was empty. The elf maiden in question threw back her head and laughed, a glittering sound that penetrated across the room to his ears and made his stomach flutter. He tried to sound disinterested as he asked, "And who has she fixed on?"
The ranger nodded at the dance floor. "Gandalf, of course."
Boromir gaped. "What interest could such an old piece of gristle hold for one so young and fair?"
The ranger laughed. "Be not deceived by appearances, Lord Boromir, for though Gandalf the Grey has stalked these lands for years far beyond mere men, Elanna is older still. She is one of the Noldor who lived in the green realm of Valinor before the breaking of the world and fought against Sauron at the side of Gil-galad."
Boromir did not understand the details of all the ranger had said, but he understood the meaning, and swallowed hard, looking with wider eyes at the golden head as it twirled past.