Before dawn could break, Aeardis ventured down to the Silverlode, stripped away the fine gown that the elves had lent her and sank deep into the cool, clear waters. A wash basin had been a refreshing, but nothing could compare to a proper bath, even if it was in a small river. The oil that she worked through her hair was sweet and heavy with the scent of almonds, roses, and lavender mixed together. It reminded her of the Minas Tirith in a way, with the lavender that grew wild within greenswards over the city.
From the low shrubs and trees, Boromir halted in his tracks before he made his presence known. Guilt swelled in his gut as he watched her from afar. She was sitting on a rock, her hair pulled over her shoulder, but in place of smooth, pale skin her back and shoulders were a smattering of deep purple and blue bruises. It was a sight he never wished to see. Aeardis was too fair and gentle to bear such painful marks. Sighing, Boromir stepped forward into the clearing at the water's edge, close enough to hear that she was humming a melody that he remembered his mother singing. "What have I done to deserve to stumble upon such a sight?"
"Boromir!" She exclaimed, heart racing, with red cheeks she slipped into the water again. He laughed and looked away to save what was left of her modesty, "Forgive my intrusion." It was not an earnest apology as a certain amount of smugness lingered in his voice. For a moment she could have fooled herself into thinking that they were in Gondor once more, sharing a foolish and carefree moment as they so often did as children. "What say you to company?" he finally dared to ask as she pulled her hair over her shoulder again, this time to begin braiding the dark strands.
"You, Captain Boromir," she began with a teasing tone, "are poor company." Aeardis had lost track of the number of days that they had been together on this quest and in a selfish way, she enjoyed every moment. "You wound me," he lamented, though the grave tone of his voice was thrown off by a small chuckle when she splashed water in his direction.
"You are hurt," Boromir whispered in her ear, his hand ghosting over the bruised skin. It explained the slight limp in her step, the way she oft braced her side before sitting and standing. "I'll be fine," she smiled, "I don't think the elves can heal bruises." Bruises took time to heal and only time, but Boromir frowned nonetheless.
"Aeardis," he breathed, in the same scolding tone that she had spoken his name in many times before. She knew well what he was trying to do and let out a soft laugh. "Truly, Boromir, I will be fine," she reassured him.
Silence befell them for a moment, though for some reason it was an uneasy one filled with words that needed to be spoken but were unable to form on their lips. Boromir waded closer to her in the water. He had not managed to escape the Mines of Moria unscathed either. There were a handful of small bruises on his arms and chest and a slim but scabbed over cut on his forearm that she had not noticed before now.
"Forgive me for leading you into such peril," he raised his hand to her cheek, running his thumb over the scabbed cut on her cheek, "it was never my intention." Aeardis shook her head, she had known the risks when Lord Denethor sent her with him. Middle Earth was a vast land and there were bound to be dangers around every corner, but she had accepted that.
"There is nothing to forgive," she whispered, leaning into his palm, her eyes closed. Something brushed over her lips and it took a moment before she realized that it was Boromir's trembling lips against her own. It still seemed odd, to be kissing him, but she threaded her fingers through his damp hair and leaned into him with a quaint sigh. It was a peculiar oddness that she could become very accustomed to.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
They remained some days in Lothlórien, so far as they could tell or remember. All the while that they dwelt there the sun shone clear, save for a gentle rain that fell at times, and passed away leaving all things fresh and clean. The air was cool and soft as if it were early spring, yet they felt about them the deep and thoughtful quiet of winter. It seemed to them that they did little but eat and drink and rest, and walk among the trees, and it was enough. Enough to almost forget about the quest at hand.
In the morn when the company woke and prepared to depart from the realm of Galadriel no one dared speak of Gandalf, or of the perilous journey that still lay ahead of them. Aeardis adjusted her small pack in the elven boat and secured the fairy dagger at her hip, it was the only weapon she had left as the Watcher in the Water had taken her sword.
Celeborn and Galadriel came forth and behind them were three elves, each carrying a bundle of cloth. Cloaks, Aeardis realized. Their color was hard to define – grey in twilight but green when moved or brown as fields or dusk-silver in the night. Each of them was given an elvish cloak, to conceal them from unfriendly gazes, and a green brooch in the shape of a leaf with veins of silver to fasten them.
Galadriel came to a halt before Aeardis, a soft smile appearing on her ageless features. The Lady of the Wood had to all but look into the murky green-blue eyes of Aeardis to understand that she was a child of the sea. "Lady Aeardis, I fear there is little that I can give you for this quest other than my blessing." Her blessing would have been more than enough, "but I shall give you the sea as well." When Galadriel held her hand out, lying within her palm was a silver ring. The band looked like rolling waves and set in the center was a small round blue stone. "Ulmocor, may it serve to ease your longing." Aeardis took the ring and slipped it onto her left hand.
"Thank you, Lady Galadriel."
The Fellowship turned with their gifts and strode toward the waiting boats. Haldir came forward and presented her with slim, light, curved blade that had a supple near red sheath, "an elven sword for your journey." He told her. Aeardis crossed her arm over her chest and lowered her head, he did the same. "Thank you." It was an added comfort to have the weight of a sword in her hand.
Merry and Pippin sat at the head of the boat, curious and excited about the uncharted river and surrounding country. Ahead of them were two other boats, Legolas and Gimli occupied one, and the other was left to Aragorn and the two remaining hobbits. The current of the river Anduin carried them swiftly down the channel until mid-afternoon when they steered toward the shore to set up camp for the night. And so became the routine for several long days.
"They're fighting again," she whispered, a forlorn expression falling over her fair features. Merry and Pippin sat at her side looking toward the river where Boromir and Aragorn were speaking in hushed but raised voices, it had become a common occurrence since Moria. Aeardis had begun smiling less since leaving the borders of Lothlórien and it was because each passing day she could see the Ring strengthening its hold on her beloved.
Legolas stood as Boromir stomped away from the river and toward the tree line, meaning the intercept his path to momentary solitude. "Let him go, Legolas," Aeardis said, softly and with no small amount of sadness. The elf looked at her with his brows furrowed and she explained, "I have learned it is best to let him be alone for a bit in times like this." Boromir's wrath was rare but strong, just like his father and no one in the fellowship deserved to be on the receiving end of his anger.
She hadn't heard exactly what the dwarf had said, but regardless she looked across the fire at him with a deep frown. "What would you have him do Gimli?" She asked. Few knew the troubles that Gondor had endured over the years, and fewer still even cared about the dying realm of men. "Forsake the first hope he has had in over a decade? Imagine growing up in the Shadow of Mordor, seeing good men die in battle, and carrying the weight of a kingless state upon your shoulders all the while. Boromir is proud and stubborn, he loves his city, his country but Mordor grows stronger and Gondor weaker. He sees the ring as the salvation of Gondor, the way to save his people and end the war. He means well." Aeardis stuttered over her words, not realizing that at some point she had begun crying until she tasted the salt of her tears, "I swear on my life that he means well."
After a few moments of tense silence between the remaining members of the fellowship, Aeardis rose from her seat beside the fire and walked toward the river. She pulled her cloak around her shoulders to fight off the chill in the air and sat on the bank, looking over to the eastern shore of the Anduin. Her fingers mindlessly brushed through the surface of the water, it was cold and calm.
"Miss Aeardis." She looked to her side at the hobbit who had joined her at the river's edge. "Yes, Merry?" Aeardis asked, noticing just how childish and frightened the hobbit looked at the moment.
He sat next to her, his shoulder just brushing her arm. "Thank you," Merry said quietly. Aeardis looked over at him, a slight smile appearing on her lips. She had grown extremely fond of the Halflings since Rivendell. "Whatever for?" she asked in return.
"Helping look after Pippin," he explained. Pippin was his cousin and his closest friend. They had grown up together and he did not wish to be parted from him. Aeardis nodded, her fingers still combing through the water until for a brief moment a glow emanated from the tips of her fingers below the water's surface. She retracted her hand, startled, and found that Merry was watching her with wide and curious eyes. "How did you do that?" He asked.
She shook her head and looked down at the water and then at her hand and the elven ring resting upon her finger. "I do not know," she breathed.