Yes, I'm back! What, you thought I'd given up? Nope. . .had Alec (Trevelyan), Ian (Howe), and Luke chattering away at me, and I finally got a decent portion of this written. Just had to print out the reviews. I hope everyone had a great Christmas (I got the TT EE! Yea!) And minor spoiler for the rest of the story. . .when it comes time for me to get to ROTK, Aragorn healing Faramir will be in the story! That was my favorite part in the book. . .has to be in here. Has to be.

Also, don't be surprised if, in the updates ahead, the story title changes. I've been thinking it over, and I've come up with a more fitting title, given the way the story is heading. I'll alert you in an update before I do it.

Reviews:

Crecy: Here's the update. . .I hope your eyes are feeling better!

Bea: I'm very glad you like the relationship between Boromir and Alorie. I'll not say anything about Boromir's fate (don't wanna ruin the surprise). And Alorie's difficulties with both Sindarin and Westron come from my own experiences with learning other languages. I remember one time, I couldn't remember the Spanish word for 'calculator.' So I used 'mathematics machine' instead. Hey, it got the point across!

Terreis: Daniel, put a cork in it! (glares) Well, not too far in. . .Alec likes you. I think, Mel, that you'll enjoy the conversation between Elrond and Alorie in this chapter. And the confrontation between Legolas and Alorie was fun to write. . .a confrontation without words or fists! And Gimli. . .one thing I noticed in the movie especially was that it was Boromir who comforted Gimli in Moria, and it was Boromir who held onto Gimli after Gandalf's fall. I decided to extrapolate a little. . .they are very similar characters, just packaged differently. Gimli's still funny, but that's not his sole purpose in the story.

Lil-sis4556: It's here! It's here! It's here! It's here! (Much as I love reviews, I write faster if you tell me what you like about the chapter. . .it helps me a lot and sometimes makes me think about what comes next).

Sailor Elf: There was a series back years ago, called Strange Luck, and I think that phrase describes Alorie's situation perfectly. All the poor girl was trying to do was find a nice place where she could read. . .instead, she gets a bird's eye view of the Council, and immediately gets caught between Boromir and the elves. It sucks being caught in the middle (Boromir nods)

On with the story!

Silent Guardian

Chapter Six

Fate's Future

The next six weeks seemed to take forever and fly at the same time. Alorie spent as much time as she could with Arwen, and when Arwen was spending time with Aragorn, Alorie sought out Boromir. He was always pleased to see her, and was equally pleased with the progress she made in learning Westron. She still fumbled with words, just as she did with Sindarin, but she was growing more comfortable with the language.

It occurred to her, during her last week in Rivendell, that she hadn't spoken English in what seemed like forever. That wasn't exactly true, for while she hadn't spoken English since her arrival here, her journal entries were in English. There were times when she missed hearing English or an American accent, but in truth, she didn't like to think about such things. She had no way of knowing if she would ever go home.

She didn't know if she would ever see Brody or Ava, Wendy or Delia again. Boromir and Arwen eased the ache, at least until she realized that she would soon leave the only family she knew in Rivendell. And it was true. The elves had become her family. While the twins, Elrohir and Elladan, preferred to spend time with Estel. . .he was their little brother. And they were kind to her.

Alorie met with the dwarves several times during her last six weeks. As he promised Boromir, Gimli spoke with his father Gloin and the other dwarves, explaining that she was only just learning Westron. Perhaps because it was because the request came from Gimli and Boromir, Gloin was very patient with her, and very gentle in a gruff sort of way. She didn't find anything strange about thinking that, either.

As yet, she still didn't know the reason for the tension between the dwarves and the elves. Knowing what she did about people in general, Alorie suspected that it wasn't a single incident, but several over the course of thousands of years. That sort of distrust and enmity didn't spring up over night. While they were dwarves and elves, they were still sentient beings, and sentient beings had certain things in common. She could only hope she didn't get caught in the crossfire once she left with the dwarves.

Alorie was grateful to them, since they didn't have to agree to Lord Elrond's request. At the same time, the elves were her family. . .they were never anything but good to her. Elrond gave her a home and shelter, when he could have left her to die. Not that he would do such a thing, especially after it was established that she was no threat to them. Arwen taught her Sindarin and patiently answered her questions.

In fact, during the last few weeks, the main source of annoyance came not from elves, men, or dwarves, but from hobbits. More particularly, the Ringbearer and his servant. Somehow, she ran afoul the Ringbearer and gained his servant Sam's enmity at the same time. Alorie still wasn't sure what she had done, though Gandalf did explain that Sam was very protective of Frodo. Fine, she replied, then tell me what I did wrong so I don't do it again!

The only thing she could remember doing was tripping, but she managed to catch herself before she fell into Frodo. It was a close call, and Sam didn't help matters by shoving her physically away from his master. She realized that she was considerably larger than Frodo (that was unusual), but it wasn't as if she meant to hurt him. Not that it mattered, particularly. . .she would be leaving soon enough, and Sam so upset her, she avoided both him and Frodo through the rest of her time in Rivendell.

Merry and Pippin, however, wouldn't allow her to avoid them. Not that she could have, because the pair were already becoming very close to Boromir. There were a few bad moments there, not because of her tripping, but because she sometimes treated them like children. She was stunned to learn that Merry was thirty-six and Pippin was twenty-eight. However, Merry relented enough in his indignation to explain that he only just passed his majority three years earlier. Pippin was still a tweenager. . .no longer a child, but not totally an adult, either.

Alorie mentally translated that. . .in Shire reckoning, for that was where they were from, Merry was a young adult, roughly comparable to a man of twenty-four or twenty-five; while Pippin was comparable to a seventeen or eighteen year old. So, while Merry was older than she was, and Pippin only slightly younger. . .they were both a lot younger than she was. She had to admit, trying to keep everything straight was enough to give her a headache, but at least it kept her distracted from the day she would have to leave her new family.

And both Merry and Pippin were patient with her when she got confused about time according to Shire reckoning, as opposed to the rest of Middle-earth. No one, as yet, provided an explanation why it was called Middle-earth. Alorie wasn't sure if that was became no one really knew, or no one had figured out a way to explain it to the newcomer. It could go either way, and Alorie wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer. There really were times when it was better not to know something.

Boromir moved on from teaching her Westron, since it was now a matter of practicing, and instead, began teaching her about the various nations. There was his own home, Gondor. He still spoke little about Gondor, and Alorie didn't ask. However, there was also Rohan, home of the Horse Lords, and the inhabitants were called Rohirrim, while their language was called Rohirric. Alorie was intrigued, because some of the names she heard reminded her of her studies of Old English.

There were other nations, of course, other peoples, other cultures, but Boromir focused on those whom Alorie would encounter during her travels with the dwarves. The ones he hoped she would encounter, at least. He said no more, and she was afraid to ask. Boromir admitted that he also knew little of Elvenkind. His younger brother would know more about the elves, for he was fascinated by them.

And then it came. Her last two days in Rivendell, and Lord Elrond called her in to speak with her while she was with Merry and Pippin. This was it, then. Alorie rose to her feet, leaning over to kiss the tops of her companion's head, then walked as steadily as she could toward Lord Erestor. Inside, though, she was trembling, and she prayed to whoever would listen for strength to get through whatever came next.

It was time, and long past time, to summon Alorie and answer what questions she had before her departure. She walked into the library. . .deliberately chosen, for Elrond knew she was more comfortable there than anywhere else in Rivendell, and indeed, in his home. He knew it was she, for two reasons. First, despite the months she lived in Rivendell, she was still a human, and thus, couldn't walk silently like an elf. Second, she was practically quivering with tension as she entered the room, and Elrond felt that tension.

He turned to face her, saying quietly, "Alorie. . .please. Be seated. I know you have many questions to ask me, many things which are unclear to you." Alorie nodded very slowly, and sat down in a chair, folding her hands in her lap. He winced, seeing the grip she held. . .her very knuckles were turning white. Elrond sat beside her, feeling almost as if he was dealing with a small, skittish animal. . .or child.

"I am to leave with the dwarves on the morrow, my Lord Elrond," she stated quietly. There was no question in her voice. It was very matter of fact. Elrond inclined his head in acknowledgment, and Alorie continued, "I. . .do have questions. But I do not know which to ask first. I understand that your people are leaving Rivendell, indeed, leaving Middle-earth. I understand why I must go, why I must leave this place. . .why I must leave my friends."

"Do you wonder, then, why you are not being sent with the Fellowship?" Elrond asked, since they were also leaving Rivendell. She frowned at him, but not from misunderstanding. Her Sindarin, while not flawless, was becoming better with each day. And she did, in fact, mention on more than one occasion that her Sindarin was competent, rather than fluent. No. She understood exactly what he was saying. But. . .

"Lord Boromir has said that is no place for someone such as myself. . .someone who does not know these lands, or these dangers. I do not belong in this world. . .your battles are not mine. Were I to accompany the Fellowship, I might place the lives of the others at greater risk. Nay, my Lord Elrond. I wonder not at that. However, I am curious. . .why have I been kept separate from Lord Aragorn?" Alorie asked finally.

He was waiting for that question, and yet, hoped she would not ask it. Elrond replied heavily, "I know not for certain." Which was untrue, but he could not explain the truth to her now. Instead, he continued, "I know only that Mithrandir has stated that it is necessary. I have been told of your fears, and you must put them to rest. You are no peasant, Alorie, and even if you were, that would be no reason to keep you separate from Aragorn."

Alorie nodded. She didn't look pleased. More like. . .resigned. As if she was anticipating that answer. After a moment, she continued, "Mightyou tell me why you are so sad? I may not be an elf, but I can listen and I can observe. I see the sadness in your eyes, and it is worse sometimes when you look at Arwen. And. . ." She stopped herself, as if fearing that she would ask too much. However, Elrond motioned her to continue, and Alorie asked, "And what of your wife? I know she is not dead. . .where is she?"

Now that, he was not expecting. Elrond answered quietly, "You ask two questions, but they are one question disguised as two. Many years ago, my wife Celebrian was attacked, captured, and tortured. My sons rescued her, before it was far too late. But the damage was done. She tried to heal here, but it was not enough. She sailed to Valinor, to the Undying Lands, where there is no ailment, no hurt, that cannot be healed."

"Oh," Alorie said in a tiny voice, then dropped her head. Elrond didn't say anything for several moments. Her slim shoulders shook, as she whispered, "It makes sense now. Arwen told me that her mother left, and that perhaps my mother was wounded. I could not understand, but it all makes sense now." The Elven Lord made no comment, realizing that she needed to work through this on her own.

After several moments, he finally said softly, "And now, I have a question for you, Alorie." She frowned. . .this Elrond could see, even though her head was still lowered. Elrond continued, "These questions have long troubled you, I know. Arwen told me of your mother and your father, she told me that your mother's spirit drifted away after your father left. Now, I have a question for you to answer. Why are you asking this now?" A sound emerged from her throat that was a snort or a laugh, or something else altogether. Perhaps even a sob. Elrond was leaning toward that, as her shoulders still shook with minute tremors.

But still she didn't raise her head. Instead, she murmured, "I have nothing left to lose." Nothing left? Elrond frowned, then her meaning dawned on him. She would be leaving with the dwarves the following day. . .the child believed. . .ai, Elbereth. He was a healer, and while his talents lay in healing bodies, not hearts, he should have seen it, nonetheless. The words echoed mockingly. I have nothing left to lose. She would never see any of them again, and she had nothing left to lose by asking her questions.

Elrond placed a single finger under Alorie's chin, forcing her to look at him, and very softly said, "You should not have feared to ask these questions, Alorie. They were honest questions, and there was nothing shameful about it. During these months, you have become as a daughter to me. . .or perhaps a niece." That drew a weak smile from her, for he knew that she was ever closer to her honorary uncle, Devin, than her father.

"I. . .I was very inquisitive as a child. I loved. . .I loved to ask questions. I wanted to know everything about everything. Why things worked as they did, how they worked. There was no end to my questions," Alorie said hoarsely after a moment. Elrond smiled, remembering the little boy Estel, whose own curiosity was nigh insatiable. He always had a question about something. His smile faded as Alorie added, "I always wondered if Father left because I asked too many questions."

Elrond turned the girl to face him, staring at her evenly, as he replied, "Your father left you, your brother, and your mother because he lacked something. He did not leave because of anything you did or did not do. You were a child of seven. . .and he was an adult." Alorie nodded, as if she was finally understanding that. Elrond could not understand her father, despite his words. As maddening as his children were, as maddening as they could be, he could not leave any of them behind. Not willingly. Never willingly.

Alorie said after a moment, "I. . .I never told anyone that. I guess I realized how self-centered it was. And I was too afraid. Afraid of what people might think. Afraid that I might hear that I was right, that my father could not bear having such a nosy little girl, and so he left. I buried it deep. Too deep to find. Even if I wanted to, which I did not. I buried it deep, and I never allowed myself to think about it."

Elrond released Alorie's chin to grasp her shoulder, and said, "Perhaps, then, it was time. And, perhaps it was for this reason that you were sent here." Elrond believed that was part of the reason, but not all of it. He continued, "Know this, Alorie, daughter of Aidan, that if our time here was not coming to an end, you would not be leaving us. Know, too, that you have my love, and the love of my daughter."

Now Alorie's smile brightened as she replied, "I love you, too, Ada." She leaned forward and Elrond enveloped her in a comforting embrace. She returned the embrace with a ferocity that might have broken a hobbit, kissed his cheek, then darted from the room once he released her. Elrond slumped back into his seat, watching her go. I love you, too, Ada. Elrond tried to tell himself that she would be fine. . .but she was under his care for almost half a year. Letting of her would not be easy.

"Tis never easy. . .to lose a child," a familiar voice said and Elrond looked around as Mithrandir emerged from the shadows. The voice was gruff, but the elf could see the compassion shining in the eyes of the ancient one. He briefly considered telling Mithrandir that Alorie was his guest, not his child, but he would be telling the wizard naught he did not already know. Including the truth that the children you loved did not have to be your own.

Instead, he settled for, "It is not." Mithrandir seated himself beside Elrond, in the chair just vacated by Alorie. The pair were silent for a long time, then Elrond said softly, "Tis always difficult to say good-bye to Estel, when he leaves. I know not when I will see him again. If ever. But I raised and protected him for so many years, I loved him as my own. Gilraen was his mother, but I was the father whom he knew. Alorie is not a child."

"But in a manner of speaking, Elrond, she is," Mithrandir replied, "you and Arwen found Alorie unconscious and barely alive. You and Arwen nursed her back to health. You taught her to speak Sindarin. In her own world, she is an adult. . .but in this world, in Middle-earth, she is but a child. You raised her in this world, and now, before she is ready, she is being forced to leave her home. Calling her a child, even among her own people, is not so unfair a thing."

Elrond had no answer to that. After a moment, he commented, "I did not tell her the truth, about the necessity of her separation from Aragorn." Mithrandir nodded, and Elrond continued, "I can only hope she truly does not feel she has nothing left to lose. If she sees him now, before she leaves Rivendell. . ." Elrond had only to think of discovering someone who looked like his own twin, Elros.

"She will not. Boromir will keep her occupied," Mithrandir observed. Elrond looked at the wizard, who added somewhat innocently, "The friendship is good for both of them." Elrond merely nodded, though he had a feeling that Mithrandir was not as pleased about the friendship between Alorie and Boromir as he seemed to be. He had other concerns right now. He had two weeks to convince Aragorn to change his mind about his betrothal to Arwen. Elrond would not leave his daughter behind when he sailed to the Undying Lands.

Boromir returned to his own chambers when he finished with the preparations for the journey for that day. They only had two weeks before their departure from Rivendell, and much to Boromir's amusement, it was starting to remind him of the muster before departing on a new assignment. Against his will, he was starting to respect Aragorn, though he remained wary of him. There was something so unnervingly familiar about the man, but Boromir could not understand why that was. He never met Aragorn, he was certain of it!

The Ringbearer and his servant continued to regard him with suspicion. Boromir was not certain if that was because of his own actions during the Council or some other, darker reason. However, he was sworn to protect the little one, and protect him he would. Gondor will see it done, he said at the Council, and Boromir, son of Denethor, made no promises he could not keep. On the other hand, Merry and Pippin were proving to be excellent companions already.

As was Gimli. He continued to eye Legolas with suspicion, which was returned in full force. On the other hand, Legolas behaved somewhat differently with Boromir, and the Gondorian could not understand why. Boromir shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. He would, no doubt, get to know the elf well during the journey, perhaps a little better than he would wish, but that was to be expected on a journey such as this.

Boromir was a soldier, and thus, had little left of modesty. He thought naught of stripping down to his skin. . .so long as those surrounding him were men. Undressing around ladies was quite another thing. Fair-skinned by nature, Boromir's face heated up as he remembered a day, perhaps two weeks earlier, when he found himself in naught but his skin, and Lady Arwen in the same room. That was humiliating, to say the least.

He knew that Lady Arwen was Aragorn's betrothed, and he counted himself fortunate that he was not called out. It seemed that Lady Arwen's twin brothers, Elrohir and Elladan, decided to play a practical joke on their younger sister. . .and Boromir was caught in the crossfire. So Lord Elrond explained when Boromir kept trying to apologize to the Elven Lord, adding that if there were any apologies to be offered, then his two sons were the ones to tender them. This was also fortunate.

What was even more fortunate was Lady Arwen mischievously asking him if he would take part in a return prank against her brothers. Boromir, who was no stranger to pranks, particularly against his own younger brother, was all too happy to comply. Lady Arwen promised to share more details with him as she worked them out. This exchange took place in front of a hobbit. . .Bilbo Baggins, the uncle/cousin of the Ringbearer. Bilbo, who lived among the elves for some years, chortled, "The fair Lady Arwen does not play as many pranks as her brothers. . .but the pranks she does play are memorable, my boy, quite memorable indeed!"

As Boromir began to strip his armor, allowing it to fall to the ground, a gentle knock sounded at the door. He smiled, recognizing the knock, and called, "You may enter, Alorie." The door opened and his visitor smiled a bit ruefully. Boromir told her, "I recognize your knock at doors. Would you aid me, little one, with this armor? I have spent nearly the entire day either aiding with preparations or in practice."

"What must be done?" Alorie asked, stepping forward. Boromir motioned to his vambraces. His fingers were too numb to properly unlace them. Alorie took one arm and carefully unlaced the vambrace on that arm, then loosened it enough for Boromir to pull his arm free. He almost groaned at the relief that provided, but instead, held out his other arm. Alorie obligingly removed the other vambrace, her fingers moving a little more rapidly this time.

Now Boromir did groan, and Alorie said, "Sit down." He didn't think to argue, merely sank onto the bed. She sat beside him and began to massage his wrists and hands, murmuring, "Does that help?" He nodded wearily and she released his hands, looking up at him, adding, "I'm glad. I. . .you know I leave tomorrow." He had forgotten, caught up in the preparations for his own departure with the Fellowship in another two weeks. With his fingers not so numb now, Boromir finished unlacing the rest of his armor, until he wore only trousers and a loose shirt.

"Then it will soon be time for us to say good-bye, little one," Boromir said quietly. She nodded, her face a blank. He did not like that expression. During his time in Rivendell, and as his friendship blossomed with Alorie, he came to know most of her expressions. And this one. This one always meant that she was hiding somewhere deep within herself. This conclusion required no great intellect. . .but Boromir was a soldier, a good soldier, and a great general. Part of that included knowing the thoughts of his men and what they needed.

After a moment, Alorie's face cleared and she replied, "I will miss you, Boromir." He smiled at her, lightly ruffling her hair. It was something that annoyed her, which was precisely why he did it. He knew perfectly well that she was no child, and he did it anyway. She glared at him, her eyes crossing at the same time, and he laughed outright. That changed her expression from annoyed to a rueful amusement.

Now on more comfortable footing, Boromir told her gently, "I will miss you as well, little Alorie." She truly hated references to her diminutive stature, and thus, he was surprised not at all when she stuck her tongue out at him. Boromir waggled his finger at her and chastised lightly, "Now, now. . . remember that about which Mithrandir warned you. But unlike him, I cannot turn it into anything unpleasant. Merely place something unpleasant on it."

Alorie giggled, as she was meant to, and Boromir leaned forward, lightly kissing her forehead. He whispered, "Be well, little one, and never forget Boromir of Gondor." There was a promise in her eyes, that she would never forget, and Boromir believed her. That was what led him to the next thing he wanted to ask. He continued, "I have a boon to ask of you, Alorie. If ever you find yourself in Minas Tirith, in my White City, find my brother. He looks much like me, save his hair. Look after him, as much as you are able. He is a fine soldier, a master of men and beasts. . .but he is still my little brother, and ever shall be."

Alorie's eyes were moist with tears, but she replied in a steady voice, "You have my word, Boromir. . .if I reach your City before you do, I will do ask you ask. I shall look after your brother as if he were my own." With those words, she placed her right hand over Boromir's heart. Touched, he covered her hand with his own. He knew how much Michaelmeant to her, and he knew what that promise meant.

He told her softly, sealing their bargain not with a kiss, but with a promise of his own, "Faramir is ever in my heart. . .as are you." Though it was no longer necessary, for her Westron was improving greatly, he spoke slowly. He wanted to be sure that she understood what he said. And she did. He was rewarded with a brilliant smile, then an embrace that nearly pushed him from the bed. . .an embrace that did take his breath away.

He returned that embrace, silently praying that this little one at least would be spared what was to come. He would do what he could to protect Frodo, as he promised, but this would be among the most difficult of his missions. From his chest, a muffled voice asked, "Boromir? Be nice to Aragorn?" He wondered briefly if Lady Arwen put her up to that, because her friendship with the Lady was even stronger than her friendship with him. Either way, she deserved a straight answer, just as the Lady herself did.

"Ah, little one, if only you knew. I am caught betwixt and between. My own instincts as a soldier and as a commander tell me that Gondor needs a king now more than ever. But my loyalty to my father and my steward demands that I bow to none save him. To acknowledge Aragorn as king is treason," Boromir told the girl. There was more to it than that, of course. Including the whispers in the dark corners of Boromir's mind that Aragorn thought him less. And the resentment spawned by that perception.

Alorie, bless her, had no response. . .and he appreciated that. They were silent for a long moment. Boromir became uncomfortably aware of how wet his tunic was after the workout he received today, and how badly he needed to bathe. But Alorie drew back at last and looked at him critically, "Boromir. . .you must bathe." Boromir rolled his eyes at her. He should have anticipated what came next. Alorie's eyes gleamed wickedly as she continued, "Of course, if you'd like me to run ahead and make sure Arwen is nowhere around. . ."

"Why, you little. . .!" Boromir blurted out. Alorie danced just out of his reach, before speeding out of the room. Her laughter remained and Boromir shook his head, grinning broadly. However, a lady did tell him that he needed to bathe, and never let it be said that Boromir failed to heed a lady's wishes. He hoped he would see her again before she left. He wanted an opportunity for payback!

Boromir did not receive that opportunity at payback. The next time Alorie and Boromir saw each other was at dinner that night. Lord Elrond, for his own reasons, seated the two together. Alorie was pleased to note that her friend took her suggestion. His hair was clean and dry and neatly combed, as was his beard. He really was a handsome man, and if she ever returned home, she would suggest this look to Brody.

Assuming, of course, he gave that opportunity. Alorie knew that she was just as responsible for the schism between Brody and herself as he was. She shut down, wouldn't give him any chances after he blamed her for Michael and Flynn's death. When you came right down to it, she supposed that she stopped trusting him.

Too young and too stupid to realize that he was lashing out. . .that the one he blamed the most, aside from Saul Conover, was himself. Boromir must have noticed her sadness, for he murmured, "What troubles you, Alorie?" She looked up with a smile, and Boromir added, "Do not tell me naught troubles you, because I know better. I have a younger brother, as well as you, remember. . .I know such looks of sadness."

"I was just thinking of Brody. It was partly my fault, you know. More than anything else, he blamed himself for his brother's death. He just lashed out at me, because he needed to blame someone else, even for a few moments. I. . .I should have never shut down his attempts at reconciliation," Alorie answered quietly. Boromir said nothing for several moments, his green eyes expressionless in the candlelight.

Then he replied, "You were a child of nineteen when your brother and his died. How old was he? A grown man? He is the one to blame, for he behaved as a child when he was the adult. You were grieving, just as he was. He had no right to place blame on you." Alorie smiled at him sadly. If only things were that simple. Boromir added quietly, "I know of what I speak, Alorie. Grief is no excuse for treating those whom you profess to love poorly."

"No," Alorie said softly, "And that's why it's just as much my fault as it is his. Yes, I was a child when Flynn and Michael were murdered. But I wasn't nineteen forever. I only hope, when I return (if I return) that he can forgive me and we can find a way to be. . .family. . .once again." She smiled then, saying softly, "But for now, dear friend, no more talk of such sadness. There will be enough sadness another day."

Boromir took her hand, enfolding it in his, as she did that morning in his quarters. He answered, "Then we shall talk of joyful things. Shall I tell you of Merry and Pippin's most recent pranks against the other members of the Fellowship?" Alorie nodded eagerly, and Boromir launched into a story that had her shaking with laughter. She didn't ask him to reveal the details of the plot against Elrohir and Elladan. . .she knew better.

However, when Boromir finished his own story, she did tell him, "I wish I could be here to see your revenge against the twins. All Arwen will tell me is that she has enlisted your aid, as well as Bilbo's. . .and I have lived around Bilbo long enough to realize how dangerous that may be." She frowned, thinking of something she heard from one of the elves the previous day, then added, "Though not as dangerous as Merry and Pippin with swords."

"Ah, fear that not! I will be teaching the little ones how to fight during our journey. . .or perhaps Aragorn," Boromir replied. Alorie eyed him, knowing the topic of the king was a difficult one for her friend. He sighed, adding, "Do not look at me in such a manner. I have been conducting myself quite well around Aragorn. But it takes time to build trust. Trust and hope are both precious commodities in Gondor."

He looked down at his plate, then said softly, "When I was nine, almost ten, my mother died. Faramir was hardly more than a baby. . .he. . .he did not understand that she was terribly ill. My father had only been the Steward for a few years at that time."

Alorie said nothing, for he rarely spoke of his family, aside from his brother. Boromir continued after a moment, "A. . .an unfortunate remark was made by one of the scullery maids, within my father's hearing. 'If only we had a king.' Father flew into a rage. I remember. . .I remember, making myself as small as I could, and praying that Faramir would stay out of the room."

Still, Alorie said nothing, though she wanted to know what having a king had to do with his mother's illness. Boromir answered her question a few moments later, when he explained, "Once he calmed down, I found the courage to ask my father what she meant. It was then that he told me the legend. 'The hands of the king are the hands of a healer.' According to legend, the rightful king of Gondor might have saved our mother."

Alorie did some rapid calculations in her head, then pointed out, "But Boromir. . .that was thirty years ago. Aragorn was what, twelve or thirteen years of age at the time? There was naught he could have done for her!" Boromir nodded, his face reflecting a long-hidden grief. And Alorie immediately realized how insensitive she was being. She added, "I am sorry. You cannot help but wonder if Aragorn's father might have saved your mother."

"In my mind, I know it to be impossible. Mother became ill because living in a walled city sapped her strength. She missed her childhood home of Dol Amroth. I. . .I also think that she might have miscarried a child, after Faramir was born. I refuse to believe that she merely let go of her life. She had two children who needed her," Boromir replied, his voice tight with barely suppressed grief and frustration.

"Oh, Boromir. . .I'm so sorry," Alorie replied, her throat tightening at her friend's distress. The truth was, she could well understand why Boromir felt as he did. She felt the same way about her mother. But she chose to believe that Boromir was right. . .that there were other health problems that sapped his mother's strength. Her two little boys were reason enough to live, weren't they?

"No. . .no, do not be sorry. You are right. Aragorn could not have saved my mother. And yet, I wonder sometimes. . .I wonder what would have happened if our king returned, long before Faramir and I were born. I wonder sometimes, what would happen to Gondor. My words at Council were ill-spoken. I see what the stewardship does to my father. He is eighty-eight years old, Alorie. He should be enjoying his grandchildren, not ruling a country!" Boromir answered, bitterness warring with frustration.

She already put her foot in her mouth once during the last few moments, and Alorie was concerned at doing it a second time. In the end, though, she said nothing. She merely put her hand on Boromir's arm. He looked at her, startled, and then he smiled. He covered her hand with his own, saying, "I thank you for listening to me, Alorie. You have become a good friend to me, during these weeks."

Alorie smiled back, answering, "I am happy I could help, in however small a way. You asked a boon of me this day. Now it is my turn to ask it of you." Boromir nodded immediately, and Alorie said, "Do not misunderstand me. . .please, when I leave tomorrow. . .do not come to bid me farewell. I know that I will weep, and if you are there, it will be that much more difficult for me to be brave. Can you do this thing for me? Might we say our farewells tonight? You may not find it so easy to leave what you are doing when it is time for me to begin my journey."

"We will say our farewells tonight," Boromir answered huskily, "for if there is anything against which I have no defense, it is a woman's tears. I regret to tell you, seeing a woman weep completely unmans me." Alorie grinned, not just at his words, but at his rueful tone. Boromir said softly, "Yes, I will do as you ask. Remember me, Alorie. . .but I do not believe that we have seen the last of each other." Alorie nodded. She hoped he was right. Truly, she did.

Arwen was deeply grateful to Alorie for her companionship, though she could not tell her friend what troubled her. More and more, she was being pulled between her father and her beloved. Aragorn, while he was not losing faith in her, was losing faith in them. And that was just as devastating. Slowly, her father was wearing him down. Arwen held on, as much as she could. She was holding on for them both.

Centuries ago, when Arwen was but an elfling, she was very curious about love, and also terribly confused. Elves could, and often did, argue with each other. She asked her mother about arguments with those whom you love, and her mother drew her into a shielding embrace, saying softly, "There will be times when you argue with one whom you love, Arwen. Being the wisest and fairest beings in Middle-earth does not mean we are of one mind. When those times come, it is then that you must hold all the more tightly to the love you hold for another. That is when you must stand the strongest, and have the strength to bend. That which bends takes the most to break."

Her mother paused, her arms tightening around Arwen, and she continued, "There is more for you to know, my Undomiel. There will be times when you cannot be strong, and must seek the strength of the one to whom your heart belongs. There will be times when he cannot be strong, and then you must be strong for him. And if it requires more strength than you have. . .and that is a possibility as well. A shadow, even now, creeps across Middle-earth. When it requires more strength than you have. . .then you may draw upon mine."

"But what if you are not here, Naneth?" Arwen asked. She did not mean, of course, that her mother was dead. But there were times when her naneth went to Lorien, to speak with her naneth, and Arwen remained behind in Imladris. Celebrian smiled at her only daughter. In Arwen's young mind, it was like when she had a question that only Naneth could answer, and Naneth was not there.

"Why, then you draw from your ada. . .or your brothers. But Arwen, even if I am not here, no matter where I am. . .I will be with you. You will never be without me," Celebrian promised. Now, so many centuries later, Arwen smiled a bit sadly. She never would have guessed that there would come a time when she could not draw strength from her father. But so many centuries earlier, she never would have believed that she would fall in love with a mortal.

I wish you were here now, Naneth, Arwen thought as she glanced down the table. She really didn't know what her mother could have done, but just having her mother nearby would have helped. Her eyes swept over the table, and she had to smile. Both Merry and Pippin, the two mischievous young hobbits who asked to be included in her prank against her brothers, smiled at her, the younger of the pair winking at her.

Arwen welcomed the distraction. They came up with some very good ideas. She was not certain yet if she would use any of them, but at least she had plenty of ideas. Boromir had some good ideas as well. . .he told her when she invited him to aid her in the return prank of a trick his younger brother played on him once. It was in retaliation for a prank Boromir played on Faramir. He did. . .nothing.

It took Arwen a matter of seconds to realize what he meant. And when she did, she looked up at Boromir, bursting into laughter. He smiled at her, his green eyes dancing as he continued, "My little brother is an excellent strategist. He knows, you see, that sometimes the best weapon is not swords or bows. But the element of deception. Now, of course, as a soldier, I know that as well. But my brother has ever been better at using it. He knows how to out-think his opponent. In my case, I was expecting payback of some kind. . .and the more time that elapsed, the more anxious I became about the payback Faramir would enact."

"Fara-mir," Arwen repeated, "It means 'hunter's jewel' in the common tongue, does it not?" She was rewarded with a surprised smile from Boromir, and added, "That is your preferred translation, then. There is another, but calling such an admirable young man 'sufficient, or adequate jewel' is a terrible injustice. And I can tell your brother is admirable indeed, by the way you speak of him, my Lord Boromir."

"There is nothing 'adequate' or 'sufficient' about him, my Lady. Indeed, I think so because he is my younger brother, but ask any of his men, and they will tell you the same thing. He would love Rivendell, my Lady Arwen. Faramir has ever been curious about elves and everything about your people. The sight of your father's library would no doubt leave him in a state of bliss!" Boromir replied.

"Perhaps one day he will see it. Tis as I tell Aragorn, when need be. . .there is a shadow, yes. But it does not hold sway over us. And even when the shadow lengthens, it shall not remain so. There will be light in the world once more, Boromir of Gondor. You must hold to hope," Arwen replied. A shadow now passed over the young mortal's face and his eyes were lowered. Arwen was having none of that. She reached down to gently squeeze his hand and said softly, "If you let go of hope, Boromir, then all is truly lost. You are a brave and gallant man. Surely you have the bravery to seek out hope?"

"I am not certain where to look, my Lady," Boromir answered quietly. Arwen stopped and turned to face him more fully. He was half Estel's age, and though he was forty years old, a fully-grown man and general of other men. . .he still seemed so terribly young to Arwen. She knew that his mother, Finduilas of Dol Amroth, was long dead. The Elven Lady released Boromir's hand and brought both of her own up to cup his face.

She smiled at him tenderly, replying, "You need only look to your fellows, Boromir of Gondor. To your brother warriors on this quest. . .mission. . .thing." She used the words of Pippin deliberately, to make her companion smile. Arwen was quite pleased when her attempt worked as Boromir remembered her father's Council meeting. Arwen continued, "You need only to look to them. Look to Merry and Pippin in particular."

Boromir's smile widened as he asked, "Did you hear about my first meeting with them?" His first. . . ahhh, yes! Yes, she heard about that! Switching his trousers for theirs, while he was bathing! Arwen laughed aloud, and Boromir chuckled as well, "I must admit, I thought at first that they were children. And no doubt, they will be quite entertaining. I will watch over them, my Lady Arwen. I am sworn to protect the Ringbearer, but I protect all who cannot protect themselves."

Arwen smiled at him and drew his head down, until she could kiss his forehead tenderly. She whispered, "Then I wish for you, son of Gondor, a strong sword-arm and a stronger shield. Be well, Boromir." He blushed. . .actually blushed. . .and bowed, taking his leave. She watched him go. Her own far-sight warned her that when he left Rivendell, it might well be the last time she ever saw him. She hoped not. Boromir of Gondor was a good and true friend to have.

Her eyes moved next to Sam and Frodo. Frodo, the Ringbearer. Like Mithrandir, it made her ache. . .Frodo had already been through so much. And yet, as her father said, he showed amazing resilience to the evil imbued in the One Ring. Would he have the strength to go all the way to Mordor? Would he have the strength to cast the Ring into the fires of Mount Doom? Sadness swept over him and she silently pleaded, Whatever grace is given to me, let it pass to him. Let him be spared.

And Sam. In some ways, Sam reminded her of a mother hen, fussing over his master. Even if Frodo faltered, Sam would not. Even if Frodo's strength failed, Sam would have strength remaining. She remembered what her mother told her all those years ago, and Arwen nodded slowly. Yes. Yes, if need be, Sam would carry Frodo when Frodo's own strength gave out. . .Sam would see to it that Frodo succeeded.

Legolas. Youngest son of King Thranduil, of Mirkwood. Her Estel's best friend for decades. To human eyes, he appeared to be very young, and he was. . .he was young among Elves. But he was far older than he appeared to be, just as Arwen herself was. Though Legolas was actually older than she was, by a few decades, there were times when Arwen felt far older. He still had a playful spirit, similar to her two brothers. . .but she knew better than to underestimate him as well. He was as lethal with his bow as Aragorn was with his sword. And he was no fool. While amused at Alorie's protective stance toward Boromir, he was not foolish enough to think that she would not truly act to protect him.

Gimli. Suspicious of all elves, and Arwen supposed she could not blame him. But he was utterly devoted to those who earned his loyalty and respect. If there was anyone for whom she feared more than Sam and Frodo, it was Gimli and Legolas. Long had there been hatred between elves and dwarves. If there was a weak link within the Fellowship, ignoring the temptation of the One Ring. . .it was the potential of trouble between Gimli and Legolas.

Aragorn and Mithrandir. The Ranger and the Wizard. Arwen trusted Mithrandir to watch over Aragorn, for he was one of Mithrandir's chosen children. He had no children, he could never have children. But that did not mean he could not love. And he did love. He loved Estel, he loved Frodo, and many others. . .be they hobbits, elves, Men, or dwarves. In the hands of this wizard, she would place the life of her beloved. . .and the fate of her future. Her own fate was tied to Aragorn's. She had made her choice.