Boromir leaned against the doorway with a satisfied smile as he watched Aeardis going about her tasks. She was working on rearranging some of the ledgers and organizing her own diaries and books. Aeardis stepped back when she had put the last scroll on its shelf, giving her handiwork a nod of satisfaction. He chuckled to himself; it eased his heart to see her like this.

Some sound or instinct must have warned her she was not alone and she turned to see him watching her. Aeardis gave a little start of surprise. "Boromir!" she exclaimed, "I...I did not see you there." Despite his unexpected arrival, her answering smile seemed heartfelt; she was genuinely glad to see him.

"No matter, Aeardis," he replied, his smile broadening. "I enjoy watching you work." She reminded him of a honeybee, or hummingbird, never still for long. Aeardis flushed and returned to her letters and receipts, Boromir found himself content just watching her. Even if there were few words exchanged being in her presence was a gift that he had learned was growing harder and harder to receive in these darkening times.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Aeardis found herself standing in the archway of Boromir's apartments. He was sitting in front of the open windows with his sword laying across his lap, the blade having only just been polished and sharpened. She had been silent, but Boromir knew he was no longer alone, he turned, seeing Aeardis with an armful of linen strips and a jar of some putrid looking salve. "I came on behalf of Eryn," she explained, and he was grateful that it was Aeardis instead of the apprentice healer, "she has made a salve to reduce scarring."

He stood, careful not to move too quickly. "Such a scar should be kept." Aeardis feared he would say that at one point she had joked that soon there wouldn't be room for new scars but this had proven her wrong. She sighed and set the vial aside, "Then allow me to check the dressings, at least." To that, he did not object. The oblong injury was healing, slowly. Parts of the scab were now falling away, his skin knitting itself back together in a pale, milky shade. There was no sign of infection or excessive irritation. For once, Boromir had followed the healers and her orders quite well.

Silence encompassed them as she unwound the bandages and rewrapped them around his torso. A small knot secured the strips of linen in place, she stepped back, looking over her handiwork. By the end of the night's celebration, it was likely the white fabric would be dotted in blood. He grasped both of her hands before she could wander off, "Stay for the feast," he blurted out in a way that may have been taken as a command to someone other than her. "Oft times you run and hide at these celebrations, but I would ask that you stay this once."

With the way he had asked, it was impossible to say no, she would suffer the feast after the ceremony for him. Just as he often suffered losing round after round of chess to be with her. There was only a handful of hours of light left in the day, and even fewer until the commencement was to start.

"Is it not exciting to witness such history, my lady?" Nimmien asked, running a mother of pearl comb through her lady's deep brown hair. She was speaking in regards to the ceremony that would be underway come the evening in honor of Boromir's promotion to the Captain of the White Tower. "I imagine that he will look very handsome," the young chambermaid said in a hushed voice. Aeardis laughed at her boldness, though she knew the young Nimmien was not the only woman in the city to have eyes for the eldest son of Denethor. "He's a fine man, Boromir."

"A stubborn one," Aeardis supplemented as she looked at her reflection. Delicate silver embroidery lined the neck of her new dress, the deep-blue bodice gave way to a flowing skirt of the same rich material. No adornments crowned her head nor did any jewels except for the delicate necklace that Boromir had given her. It hung on a silver chain, the key shaped pendant remained nestled between her breasts.

Dozens of nobles and esteemed military personnel had gathered on the greensward to watch as Denethor announced Boromir's promotion and others whose accomplishments were now shadowed by the Steward-Prince. Hirgon and Dírhael took their promotions with grim humility. Eregond and Eradan were recognized for their bravery in the last battle with solemn expressions that did not speak any of pride or joy.

The sky above the White City was now painted in the colors of a summer sunset, a golden hue overtook the white stone. One of the elders placed a large ivory war-horn tipped with silver written in ancient characters into Denethor's hands. An heirloom of the House of the Stewards of Gondor. The Horn of Gondor had been carried by the eldest son for generations. The horn was crafted before the line of the Kings of Gondor was broken and it was rumored that its call would never go unheeded.

"Today, Boromir has raised himself to Captain-General of the White Tower for his valiant deeds that secured the eastern part of Osgiliath!" Denethor was proud, there was no denying that. Aeardis glanced at Boromir as he stood next to his father and back to Faramir who stood at her side in the crowd. He was proud of his brother, but she knew it did not stop the blatant favoritism from hurting. She gripped onto Faramir's hand and squeezed. "So comes the time to pass onto him the Horn or Gondor."

Boromir knelt and accepted the war horn, as well as his new rank and responsibilities.

The feast had ended an hour ago, now the drinking and rowdiness were to begin. Faramir was whispering in her ear of what gossip he had heard in regards to some of the ladies and esteemed men in attendance. Aeardis was not one for meaningless talk but after two glasses of wine, she did not mind laughing at other people's follies and soon began to whisper back to Faramir her thoughts of different dresses and those maidens who seemed to be anything but.

The young ranger laughed quietly when Aeardis had pointed out that Serawyn's dress looked like an estranged peacock with the different layers of silk and velvet. At least three dresses could be made from the amount of material that had gone into that atrocity. The young Ansley had forgotten her inhibitions for the evening as she clung to the arm of a guard who was red-faced from ale and unabashedly eyeing her tight bodice. Faramir had made a shrewd comment and despite laughing at the jest a flush of color crept up to Aeardis's cheeks.

"That one there's been eyeing him all night. Look at the ravenous deprivation in her eyes. Food and wine will not slake that hunger." Faramir shook his head in amusement at her antics. It had been many years since she had joined him and his brother for a banquet that was not of tradition. "There's another," she whispered pointing her empty glass in the direction of a sylphlike girl who would have been closer to Faramir's age than his brother's, yet she had pushed up her breasts and approached Boromir with a brazen resolve.

Aeardis couldn't hide her snort of gaiety when he turned her away and motioned to where she and Faramir sat, something he had said made the poor girl's cheeks burn with mortification. "You're jealous!" Faramir exclaimed, laughing at the revelation.

"I am not," she bit back, too quickly and harshly for the words to be true.

"If it pleases you to believe that lie then so be it." She glowered at him and filled her glass with wine once more while the newly named Captain of the White Tower made his dutiful rounds speaking to those in attendance before they would be too inebriated to function properly.

Denethor had retired for the night yet still the celebration went on. The seventh cask of ale and been tapped and now boisterous music filled the hall. Some clapped along while others did a jolly jig to the flute and fiddle. "A dance?" Came the sudden question.

Aeardis jumped and turned around to look up at Boromir with a disapproving scowl. "Boromir, I must desist. There are plenty of fairer maidens in attendance whom you could ask." All of which will throw themselves at you.

"Perhaps, but I am asking you," his smile was so bright and charming that it was almost impossible to say no, yet Aeardis was content on remaining at her seat for the rest of the night. Dancing did not suit her, she was a scholarly and political woman. Her strengths did not lie with such frivolous activities. Faramir elbowed her side and received another dark look from the woman before she placed her hand in Boromir's and stood, reluctant but compliant.

He pulled her into the center of those already dancing, she smiled at his consideration and gave silent thanks that she would not become the laughingstock for her poor dancing skills. In fact, few had taken notice of the newly named Captain dancing.

Aeardis smoothed down the lapels of his dark grey surcoat, letting her hands rest on his chest, over the stars of the Tree of Gondor, "You look very handsome tonight." There was a certain degree of propriety to her voice that seemed unnatural; as if she had forgotten their friendship that had spanned over two decades, he didn't like it.

"And you look lovely, as always," he remarked and her cheeks turned the light shade of red that he had come to adore so much over the years. The lute and fiddle played softly, as did the harp. It was a familiar song and soon it ended, but now they were loath to part from one another.

"You've been in the sun too much," she mused aloud, trying to distract herself from the growing number of eyes that had begun turning in their direction.

"What makes you think that?" He chuckled, realizing what she was doing but playing along nevertheless. She tugged on the ends of a lock of hair that was falling in front of his eyes, smiling, "your hair is not as dark as it once was." The boy she remembered had more brown in his hair than blonde, now nearly the opposite was true. Much had changed in the years since she had left her castle by the sea.

"How do you prefer it?" He asked, in all seriousness.

Aeardis shook her head and let one of her hands slip up to his shoulder, "It matters not what I think." There was a certain amount of sadness in her voice.

Boromir pulled her closer, though, "I value your opinion."

Alas, she smiled back at him and placed both her hands at the nape of his neck, "It suits you."