The delicate sound a harp echoes through the halls of the Citadel, yet it was not until he reached the library that Boromir heard the soft and sweet voice that accompanied the instrument.
"To dream of silver locks entwisted, stormy
Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep-,"
"I don't believe I've heard that song before," Boromir smiled at the way she jumped in surprise, striking a dissonant chord. Her hands fell away from the strings of the harp and came to rest on her lap. He was leaning against the stone column with his arms crossed.
Aeardis sighed as she thought of the story behind one of her favorite songs, "It was written by a dwarf king for his fairy lover." She raised her hands back to the instrument and plucked the taut strings to the melody though she did not sing again. "Istannathon o gannadad angin."
Boromir sat on the bench next to her, words of praise on his tongue that would never be heard as Faramir came searching for him. "Father wishes to speak to you, it is urgent." Aeardis felt her heart sink at the expression that Faramir now wore and for a moment she knew that Gondor would go to battle again.
Hours passed, she tended to her duties and supped alone in her bedchambers as both Boromir and Faramir had not returned from the meeting with Denethor. Beside her bed was a burning candelabra, wax beaded down the pale candles and illuminated the script of the book she had chosen to occupy herself with until sleep would come. "You should be asleep at this hour," he uttered before he had even come into the dim light, his voice worn and laced with exhaustion.
"As should you," Aeardis countered. She slipped a folded piece of parchment between the pages of the book and placed it on the bedside table as he sat on the edge of her bed with his head hanging low and hands clasped together. "I am to be named Captain-General," the words did not come easily.
Long had it been known that a warrior such as he would be anointed to the position. Any other time he supposed he would welcome the new title and rank, but now, after the loss of the battle and so many, he could not find it in himself to be glad. She slipped free of her blankets and draped her arms around his shoulders, "Is that not a good thing?"
Boromir wrapped his fingers around one of her wrists and held it against his chest. He sighed, "I am not worthy of the title if I cannot protect my men, this city, or the ones I love." Aeardis pressed her forehead against the crook of his neck, though her attention was drawn to his injured side as blood had seeped through the bandages at one point.
"Have you tended to your side?" In truth, it was a pointless question, he was bullheaded when it came to healing and rarely did he heed what either the healers or Aeardis told him. Yet it had been quite some time since he had obtained an injury this severe. "Let me change the dressings."
Wordlessly he stood. Aeardis pulled back the soiled linens and prodded the area, gently. It had scabbed over, though she imagined that the scar it left would be large and angry, one to match the others that littered his back and torso.
The salve she spread over the broken skin smelled of clove and peppermint, with only the faintest hints of rosemary. It stung but he supposed that meant it was working. Turning back to her wash basin, Aeardis quickly scrubbed her hands of the remaining slave and fetched a clean piece of linen to serve as a bandage. When the cloth was tied off she gathered the salve and soiled bandages, he had returned to his seat on the edge of her bed, looking out to the fields of Pelennor.
Absently, she took his face into her hands and smiled. The cut that had been above his left brow had almost healed, as had the nicks on his cheeks. "You wear strength so well I oft forget that even you must take it off at the end of the day." He pressed his cheek further into her palm and sighed when the touch was lost, even if was only so that she may return to bed too.
Boromir dropped his head down to rest on her chest and she wrapped one of her arms around him, hoping that he could not hear how absurdly loud and frantic her heart was beating. With her free hand, she tousled and mused his hair. After a moment, she simply combed through his damp locks, humming a lullaby that her father used to sing on stormy nights. Aeardis lay back, pulling him with her. She kissed the top of his head, only a few minutes later he was asleep.
The first rays of sun flooded into her chambers and unlike the times before, Boromir was still asleep, his head lying on her stomach and hand loosely clutching at the thin fabric of her night shift. Aeardis shook his shoulder, but he only mumbled something incomprehensible and turned his head. She huffed and relinquished herself back to sleep, not eager to be rid of his warmth.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
The day had begun with meetings, prolonged by the insistent questions of those on the council that did not understand battle in the way the soldiers did or even the way she did. Afterward, the day had passed with a series of letters and scrolls as a large shipment from Pelargir had arrived. It was now her duty to inventory the supplies and see that each merchant was properly reimbursed for the goods and travel. Metallurgic items were the last to be inventoried and then there were letters that had to be written to Gondor's allies. If she kept pace and did not become distracted it was likely she could finish the days' work before the moon fully rose.
Of course, that plan could not succeed when the Steward's sons had already attended to their duties for the day and had yet to see their dear friend. "Aeardis," Boromir and Faramir stood in the doorway of her study, both of them wore large smiles that she suspected to be rooted in mischief, a ploy to prevent her from accomplishing the last of her letters. "Come with us," Faramir offered.
She looked around at the pieces of parchment that were strewn around on the surface of her desk that needed to be tended to and the half-finished letter to Théodred of Rohan, "I cannot leave my duties unfinished on such a whim, you two," she chastised, not fully realizing the reason for their interruption.
"An exception can be made," Boromir proclaimed, "after all, it is your nameday."
"Already?" Aeardis asked, not believing that it could have come so quickly. She was nine-and-twenty now. It was hard to think that she had been in Minas Tirith for over two decades, her mind quickly returned to the task at hand and she shook her head, dipping her quill into the inkpot to resume writing, "I really need to finish thi -Boromir!" He and lifted her from the chair and slung her over his shoulder in triumph while Faramir laughed and followed his brother from the study. For a time, she beat on his back and demanded to be let down, until finally her resolve vanished and she hung limp as a corpse, not wishing to be the cause of his wound to reopen.
They took her to what had been their mother's private garden. In secret the two of them had slowly been pulling weeds from the beds and trying to nurture the blooms back to health but neither of them had the correct touch. Their efforts, however, had been rewarded by a single yellow rose that had bloomed in the brown brambles.
A meal of honeycakes, warm bread, and an array of berries and fruits had been plated with seasoned apples and hard cheeses were spread out on a large piece of grey linen. It was all her favorites, even down to the sweet summer wine. Aeardis smiled, not sure how to thank the two brothers for this type of surprise and reprieve.
They did not speak of war or battle, nor was there any mentions about the politics of the realm asides from gossip that had been floating around the marketplace. The three of them dwelled on happy memories and spoke of hopeful things to come, like the summer festivities and the upcoming celebrations in honor of Boromir's promotion. For a short while, the threat of Mordor did not exist and it reminded her of times before the darkness, of her castle by the sea and the kiss of sea spray against her cheeks.
Faramir presented her with a large oaken box that had vines and leaves engraved into the lid, the make was obviously elvish. She opened the box and gasped, her joy barely contained as she took in the small jars of paint and the brushes that lay with them. It had been ages since she last painted and it surprised her to know that Faramir would remember her love for painting. "Thank you, Faramir."
Boromir held out his closed fist and opened his hand so that she could take what lay within his palm. It was a half of a seashell with a black pearl, though it was what else that lay within the caused her breath to catch in her throat and a deep shade of red to rush to her cheeks. Aeardis ran her fingers along the silver chain and down the small key-shaped pendant that had been adorned with a single deep blue stone. "And what does this key unlock?" She asked in a breathless whisper.
He smiled, "In time you will learn." She lifted her hair and shivered as the cool metal touched her skin, or maybe it was the way Boromir's fingers brushed over her neck as he clasped the two hooks together.
Translation:
Istannathon o gannadad angin - I can teach you to play the harp.