Payments had been delivered to the merchants and everything had been cataloged as well, for once, Aeardis had tended to all her duties and she could find nothing else to be done for the rest of the day. Several of the passing children stopped to tug on her dress or arm, asking for a story. She, of course, obliged and gathered them around one of the fountains. It took a moment before she thought of a new tale to share, "Do any of you know the tale of the Gravewalker?"
All of them shook their heads with wide and eager eyes. As opposed to prior stories, Aeardis had not grown up with the tale of the Gravewalker, it was one she had learned through poorly preserved scrolls and by word of mouth that traveled through the city. She pieced together a story about an exiled ranger, Talion, whose family and he were murdered by Sauron's minions. Somehow, he became trapped between life and death, resurrected by Celebrimbor, one of the greatest elven smiths to ever live. Together they weakened the Dark Lord's armies by sabotaging and killing Uruk captains and war chiefs. Even attempting to forge a new Ring of Power that would rival the One Ring.
As her story was coming to a close, some of the children's parents had been calling them home for the evening. The sun was setting and she promised to finish telling the story some other time, as she always did. "A somber tale for young ears." Aeardis jumped at first, not realizing that Boromir had been listening in the shadows.
She looked at the Steward-Prince with a somber expression, "They have seen and endured worse than those words." It was sad, but the truth in darkening times was rarely something to smile over. He pulled her up to her feet and offered the crook of his arm.
"Where are we going?" She asked, curious to know why they were going in the opposite direction of the Citadel, the hour was growing late, after all. He did not answer for the sign that hung outside the establishment told her enough of his intentions, the Mûmak and Keep, it read in the Common Speech, but scrawled beneath the large letters was the tavern's name in Sindarin. Minas Tirith was home to several taverns, though this particular one was frequented by soldiers.
Typical for the time of day, it was boisterous, with a minstrel singing to the tune of a lyre and men yelling back and forth with bawdy jokes and tales of battle. From the tavern alone, one would never know that a great darkness dwelled within sight of the White City. Boromir slid two coins to the keeper and in return, he slid two wooden tankards filled with ale. Aeardis raised the large mug and took a long drink. Before either of them could speak, though, several of the men took notice of their Captain and Aeardis and took to filling what had been left of the empty benches.
Roran and Enduriel flanked her sides. Faramir had come to sit next to his brother, along with Thuviel, a young ranger who had only just returned from his first outing into Old Anórien. Aeardis turned toward the bard, recognizing the song he sang to be one of the dwarves. The Song of Durin. The minstrel had a fine voice that turned the lyrics of the age old song into something new entirely. It was as if she were hearing it again for the first time.
"I believe there is another skilled singer in our midst," Boromir said. Faramir quirked his brow, glancing toward Aeardis whilst finishing his drink and the other men clapped and cheered her name aloud. "A song! A song from the fair lady!" They all called, beating their tankards and goblets on tables and bar tops in an impatient rhythm.
An exasperated sigh escaped her lips, "Very well," though before she stood, Aeardis turned up her tankard of ale and the soldiers cheered. Each and everyone knew her as they knew their own sisters. She stepped up onto the bench and quickly thought of the songs and poems that she had read and heard over the years, but there was only one she wished to sing tonight. Perhaps her choice was because of the strong ale, or because of the way Boromir was looking up at her.
"On winds and waters may you cross,
See mountains white and blue.
But on your road, let's not forget
The love I have for you," there was a moment's hesitancy in the song, her gaze settling and lingering on Boromir and suddenly it seemed as if she had not drunk enough to carry on singing. To make it worse, he smiled, that stupidly large grin that, in her opinion, could chase away all the darkness in the land.
"Dance on beaches in Anfalas
Sleep in moonlit fields of view
May you cross another golden age
With preciousness free-flowing
With Halfling, Elves, and Dwarves engage,
Their wisdom on you bestowing."
Applause broke out in the tavern. Roran jumped to his feet, wrapped an arm around her waist he lifted her from the bench and spun around twice before setting her back to the ground. Someone pressed another ale into her hands and when she turned back to join the brothers, Faramir was whispering something into Boromir's ear that made his cheeks redden. Her curiosity was quickly forgotten as several of the soldiers began chanting something that could only be described as a drinking song.
The hour was indecent when she and the Steward-Prince left the tavern. "I can walk!" Aeardis protested, writhing in his hold to free herself. Boromir only laughed, "Hush, my sea bride, you drank twice the amount I did." He tossed her over his shoulder, "I won't have you stumbling about the city and diminishing your reputation."
The next morning, she woke to a pounding headache and regretted her indulgence the prior evening. Aeardis sat up on the bed and stretched her arms out with an unceremonious groan that turned into a yelp of surprise when her hand hit something, no, someone, the Steward-Prince to be exact. He was still sleeping, on his side with his back toward her and it suddenly dawned that she was not within her own chambers, but his, it would have been a shorter walk from the tavern no doubt. Heat rushed to her cheeks and carefully she slipped from the bed and fled down the hall to her own room.
Having gone unseen in the hall, Aeardis pressed her back against the stone wall and let out a relieved sigh, until a voice cried, "There you are, my lady!" Her hand flew to her chest at the suddenness of Nimmien's appearance. The handmaiden looked at her lady's appearance and asked nothing of it, she had been so bold as to assume that Aeardis had been with Boromir.
After tending to her duties and errands about the city, Aeardis supped with Denethor and his two sons and the tension in the air was palpable. Faramir offered a strained smile and Boromir kept his eyes on his own plate, unable to say much of anything as thus far he had done nothing but angered his father.
"I should like to join Faramir on his next ranging," Aeardis said, suddenly, and the knife within Boromir's hand clattered against his pewter plate. Faramir was just as stunned at the sudden proposition. Both the brothers looked at her curiously, wondering what it was she was planning to do with an idea such as this. Denethor, on the contrary, looked rather pleased with her newfound desire to leave the safety of the White City. "Seeing the lay of the northern land for myself will help when devising strategies," she supplemented, a poor excuse to veil her true intentions.
The Steward nodded, "So be it." His tone and words were meant to excuse her from the meal and she understood that and his hardened glare. Setting down her fork and knife, Aeardis rose from the table and turned toward the exit of the hall. One of the chairs scraped against the floor behind her and a hand grasped onto her shoulder.
"Aeardis," Boromir stopped her before she could leave the Great Hall. He was intent on preventing her from leaving, just as she had done to him many times before. There were too many things that could go wrong and he would be unable to stop it, but alas, he sighed upon seeing the determination in her eyes. "It will be dangerous," he said in a low voice.
She smiled, albeit it was hardly noticeable. "I know."
Boromir sighed and took both her hands, holding onto them tenderly. "Then I shall wait for your return."
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
They had long since passed into the borders of Ithilien, low shrubs and sparse trees covered the uneven land. Camp had been made once more, this time in the sacred encampment of the Rangers. Aeardis wandered to the Forbidden Pool and sat in the alcove carved out behind the waterfall, soon after, Faramir found her. He always had a knack for finding her when she did not wish to be found.
The ranger pushed a bowl of stew into her hands and sat at her side, looking out through the continually flowing sheet of water. She thanked him and had only just lifted a spoon of the broth to her mouth when Faramir spoke. "What is the true reason behind this?" He asked
Aeardis set her spoon back down and frowned, "Must there be some other motive?"
He chuckled and brought out a wineskin to be shared. "You may be able to fool my brother," Faramir paused and a fleeting smile crossed his lips, "but not me."
A long sigh escaped her lips. "He's actually the reason I wanted to come," she admitted. Faramir urged her to continue, unsure what Boromir could have done to drive her away in this manner. "I thought being away for a bit would help clear my mind," Aeardis frowned. It wasn't working, he occupied nearly every passing thought and it made her feel foolish.
"That is not all that troubles you, Sister," the younger of the two brothers added. He had already experienced a similar conversation with Boromir the night before the battle that claimed all but four. The words still echoed in his mind, tell her, Faramir, should I not return. Tell her, he had made the promise. Faramir wondered how much more time would have to pass before the two of them realized that they loved each other. The ranger knew that he loved Aeardis like a sister, but his brother's affections for her spanned deeper and across the boundary of familial love.
Aeardis took a long drink from the wineskin and wished the contents were stronger. "My heart troubles me, Faramir," she uttered and he knew that Boromir's troubled him as well.