Hebo Estel

Chapter Four: Regret

A/N: Hip Hip, HOORAY! I got a much better response this time around, so I will definately continue for awhile!

Here's a note to my lovely reviewers:

Paulette: I'm so happy you're enjoying this! Keep reading and reviewing!

Cindy: Oh my goodness! I was so happy when I saw that you had reviewed again! Thanks for the tip; I actually didn't know alot of that! Keep 'em comin'! And yes, I do read parts of the appendices. In fact, the timelines have become some of my most important tools in writing Lord of the Rings fanfiction! Thank you!

Lord Voldemort:Squirrels?

PJ:Thank you so much for taking the time to read and review! Please keep on!

Lothiriel of Rohan: AHHHHH! You're like, my HERO! LOL! Thanks for reviewin', hun! Actually, I did relize how old he was. I will have to look harder when I edit to avoid phrases like that. Sorry!

Thanks to everyone who's taken time to read or review, or do both! You guys keep me going!

And now, without further ado, Chapter Four:

"What is going on here?" The Steward's baritone voice echoed across the hall. Boromir and Delyth both jumped in surprise. Boromir stood up, and held tightly to Delyth's hand.

"Father!" Boromir exclaimed.

"I asked you a question, son. What is going on?" Lord Denethor repeated. When Boromir did not answer, Denethor said, "I told you I wanted to see you in my studies. Be there in five minutes or you will be punished most severely." That being said, the Steward turned briskly and left the throne room through a large wooden door.

Boromir looked into the servant's eyes. "Don't fret, dear heart. I will speak with my father. Wait for me in my chamber, if you can. I will want totalk with you before I leave." He wiped his face and left the throne room, leaving Delyth very much alone.

Delyth returned to the kitchens in a state of shock. Anyone could tell something had happened to her. Eirien knew immediately Delyth was unwell, and ordered her to sit by the kitchen's great fire.

"You sit there. I've sent Dera to fetch Father, and I'll make you some nice warm soup to calm your head," Eirien babbled, sending her little sisters on random errands to get them out of her hair. Delyth knew none of this. Her head was spinning with what had just happened.

At last, Dilwyn, Delyth's father, arrived back to kitchen from the marketplace, and his face was filled with worry. "My daughter!" he cried when he saw her. "What has happened to make you so sad?"

Delyth had held back her tears up until that moment, when she let them flow freely down her pale cheeks. "Father! Lord Denethor caught us together, and now Boromir is going to tell him about us. I am worried that Denethor will be angry!" Delyth fell into her father's arms and sobbed into his chest. Her sister was there, also, and was patting back her wild hair.

"Oh," sighed Dilwyn. "Oh, my dear, dear girl. I am so sorry that you have to go through all of this. You are such a fair lass, and the knowledge that you have a difficult road ahead of you distresses me greatly. But such is the way with love."

"Oh, Father!" interjected Eirien, who was still stroking Delyth's hair. "You cannot tell her such things! Love is amazing, full of happiness and peace; honesty and intimacy. Love is to be cherished, not scorned. Love is not painful. Do not tell your heartbroken daughter such dismal things. Love does not cause hard times, it merely lives through them. When two people are in love, their love stays strong and true, even while things around them grow dark and difficult. Love is like a refuge; an oasis in a world of pain and hate." After finishing her speech, Eirien burst into tears and ran, crying, from the room.

The cook stared after his firstborn, worried. Then, focusing once more at the daughter in his arms, he said, "I suppose, Delyth, that your sister is correct. Love is light in darkness. What you have with Lord Boromir is special, and always will be, even if you cannot be together."

At last, Delyth lifted her head, and gazed at the familiar face of her father. His face was wrinkled, and his hair had turned white in the years since his wife's untimely death. His eyes were silver, eyes that only his two sons inherited. "Father, I am only upset that Boromir and I cannot be together. I want to be his wife, and I want the whole of Middle Earth to know that we love each other. I only regret that I wasn't born of a higher status."

"You regret me? Do you regret being born into this family?"

Immediately, Delyth felt guilty for what she had said. "No, Father. I do not regret you, nor do I wish I wasn't born in this family. My sisters and brothers I hold very close to my heart and you even closer. But at the same time, I am saddened because the Steward doesn't think me noble enough to wed his son. So you see, Father, I am torn."

Dilwyn mulled over what his daughter had said. Finally, he said, "Do not feel torn. We are your family, but Boromir holds your heart. I think that, in time, you will learn that there is room for all of us inside your heart."

"Father," Delyth ventured, "I know that I must help you prepare lunch, but Boromir wants to meet with me before he leaves. I was hoping…"

Dilwyn nodded vigorously. "Of course! Of course, Delyth. I would never deny you a few moments with your lover, especially now. Go now, before he has to prepare for departure."

Delyth gratefully kissed her father's warm face, and set off for Boromir's chambers.

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