She remembered looking out over the open plains before Minas Tirith. The city was quiet, the calm before the storm as come the morning light Gondor's defenses would march to Osgiliath. The fortress on the Anduin was but a pale speck against the darkness of the Mountains of Shadow.
Aeardis needn't look to know who had come to stand beside her. "Please come back in one piece," she pleaded. Boromir wrapped one of his arms around her waist, pressing his nose into the crook of her neck. She smelled of flowers, sugar, rain, and sorrow.
"I have fought against the Dark Lord's forces for three decades. Danger has been my guide, and luck, my companion," he whispered. She looked back at him with a sad smile. He had spoken the truth but that did not help ease her mind, nothing did in these dark times. Boromir pressed his lips against her temple, "Fear not for me, my sweet sea bride."
He loosened his arms and she turned in his embrace. Aeardis raised her hands to his face, her fingers loosely combing through his beard and tracing over the small silvery scars on his cheeks. There was a lump in her throat that she forced herself to swallow. Boromir eyes flitted down to her parted lips. In all his years, he had never wished to kiss her more than now, even if it was so he would have something sweet to remember while marching into almost certain death.
Boromir tipped her chin up and meant to bend down to kiss her if not for the herald that approached them under the White Tree. "My Lord Boromir," he said, "your father wishes to speak with you." The Steward-Prince nodded and settled for placing a soft kiss on her brow instead.
Aeardis woke in a cold sweat, her hand reaching for the cool metal necklace around her neck. It took a moment for her stomach to settle and for her to remember that she was safe within the borders of Lothlórien. She turned and looked at Boromir to find him still sleeping.
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It took three days for him to wake, but when he finally did, it was in the dead of night. His grey eyes were open wide and his lungs quickly filled with air with a strangled gasp. "No, no, slowly." Aeardis reprimanded when he tried to sit up too quickly. Her hands were like ice on his chest, her touch had always been cool but never cold. Boromir shivered as he lay back down, a sharp ache encompassing the whole of his body.
He glanced down at the thick white bandages that had been wrapped around his torso and then back to her, thinking that it was all some type of cruel dream. "Aeardis?" He placed his hand on her cheek, not quite believing that she was there, but her skin was soft and real. "It is good to see your face," he murmured. She leaned into his palm, nodding, and he could feel the dampness of her tears.
Then despair overcame him as he recalled the frightened expressions of Merry and Pippin as the Uruk-hai carried them away. He feared for them, he feared that they were beyond saving. "The little ones?" Came his soft inquiry and by the way Aeardis's gaze fell to her clasped hands, he knew it was an answer that he would not find favorable.
"Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas search for them," she told him. Their whereabouts were now unknown, perhaps they had caught up with the Uruk-hai troop, perhaps they still tracked them across the countryside.
Boromir pressed down on the wound closest to his heart and moved to stand from the bed, "I must," he started, but the pain was too much and he collapsed backward with labored breaths. Carefully, Aeardis peeled back the bandage and saw that in the low light of the moon and stars the three wounds had nigh begun bleeding again.
She cursed his stubbornness, "You'd be of no use to them when you can barely even sit up under your own will." He looked at her and found that she wore an expression he had seen many times before when she had taken on the role of his healer. It almost made him smile if not for the grief and guilt that plagued him.
"I'm sorry," he breathed as she began to peel away the herbal plasters that the healers had placed over all three dark scabs on his chest. "You have no reason to apologize, Boromir," she responded.
She stood with her back to him at the small table where clean linens, extra salve, and medicine had been left. "But I do," he began, he looked at the way her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, but then turned his gaze to the wooden ceiling and the lamps of starlight that hung above him. "I've put you in immeasurable danger. If not for my desire then the fellowship would be unbroken."
Aeardis looked over her shoulder. "Perhaps it was for the best," came her quiet reply, though she turned back to pouring the cordial of the Valar into a chalice.
"You don't understand," his voice broke, the guilt was a weight on his chest that made it difficult to breathe. "I tried to take the ring from Frodo." In all her years, Aeardis had never seen Boromir of Gondor look ashamed. His head hung down in defeat. She had known that the ring tempted him, had seen its corruption progress, and heard what Galadriel had said. She already knew of his transgression against the Halfling, but that changed nothing. He was still Boromir the brave, the tall, the strong.
She sat next to him. "Drink." It was a golden nectar named miruvórë that she pressed into his hand. Elrond had given Gandalf a flask with the Cordial of Imladris, that was just a poor imitation of what Galadriel had offered. This was the drink of the Valar, made from Yavanna's flowers, and the strongest medicine that could be provided. He drank half the silver goblet and passed it to back Aeardis.
She had moved forward, meaning to place the half-empty goblet back to the table, but he gripped onto her wrist, not allowing her to move. "Aeardis," he breathed. Her brow lifted in question. "I can wait no longer to tell you this. I was a fool to wait even this long." It was true, he was a fool, a fool for not telling her before they had set out on this doomed quest, a fool for not kissing her when he had the chance. He let go of her wrist and lifted his hand to trace along the single silvery scar on her cheek that came from their antics as children. "You're beautiful, you know that don't you?"
Aeardis met his soft gaze and felt heat rise to her cheeks. "Boromir," she chided. She had never cared for flattery, not from him nor anyone else in the Court. Boromir shook his head and took her fair face into both of his hands, "I mean it in every aspect, Aeardis." Her heart clenched at the look in his eyes, it had always been there, but now she could place what it was. Love.
"I love you," he said in earnest as if he had never spoken anything truer in all his years. There had never been a single moment when he realized it, rather it had been a culmination of years and events. Faramir had tried to tell him that the feelings he had for her stretched beyond friendship. He swallowed hard and dared to look up and meet her gaze, "I always have." Aeardis felt her chest swell in return, though for some reason her mind was still processing his words.
Boromir took both of her hands into his own and placed a tender kiss on her knuckles. "It's why I fought so hard even against impossible odds, it's why I counted down the days until I returned to Minas Tirith every time I rode off. It's why I still fight, so that we may return to a home not overshadowed by Mordor." Aeardis swallowed the lump in her throat. The people of Gondor had always fancied her to be a wordsmith, but now, no words came. So she sat still, eyes scanning over Boromir's rugged features and alas, met his stone grey eyes. "Is there even a sliver of hope that my affections may be returned?" He asked.
There was a ridiculing type of smile playing on her lips. She freed her hands from Boromir's hold and placed them upon his cheeks whilst she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. It seemed that was all the reassurance he needed. Aeardis pulled back, smiling in full now and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, mindful of his wounds. "I promise they are returned in full."
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Three more days passed and by that time, Boromir was back on his feet, albeit most of his actions were carried out slowly and with great pain. He was left awake one night, troubled by Merry and Pippin's capture and his own transgression against Frodo. Though next to him Aeardis slept, peacefully and unworried.
In the pale silver moonlight, Galadriel emerged. "Son of Gondor, may we speak?" His pensive gaze was drawn from Aeardis's sleeping figure and to the Lady of Light. He rose and left the small alcove that had become their chambers of sorts. Boromir felt that he could not face her, not really, not after what she had shown him and the treacherous act he had committed.
"It is not of the One Ring I wish to speak to you about," she announced, knowing that the thought of his misdeed plagued both his mind and heart. Galadriel looked back to Aeardis and felt fondness in her chest for her orphaned kin. "What do you know of her?" She asked.
"Only that which she has told me over these long years. Her name means sea bride, she hails from Tol Eressëa," there was so much more that he could tell Galadriel about the women he loved: she likes to paint, play the harp, and be surrounded by the people of Minas Tirith. Her mind has always been sharp for strategy and never does she lack wit. She has a kind and gentle heart and a soul white and pure as silk. That remained unvoiced though, instead he wished to have his curiosity sated. "The ring you gave her, Ulmocor, what does it do?"
The briefest of smiles appeared on Galadriel's countenance. It was a magic ring, that much was certain, crafted in the early days of the world and untainted by anything dark and evil. It remained pure. "If she learns its workings then it can give her the power to tame the sea." The ruler of the Galadhrim knew that given time, Aeardis of Tol Eressëa would undoubtedly learn of its secrets. "I gifted it to her because of the song that the Valar had sung of your journey." The Valar of sung of many things, but the melody could always be altered, for better or worse.
"She is from an ancient line of elvish blood, the same line that bore the great kings of Númenor." Those words had been like a knife to the gut for Boromir, the very air in his lungs fled. Suddenly everything became more clear, yet at the same time, it all grew even hazier. He couldn't understand why she would not share her heritage with him. In the eyes of Gondor, she would have practically been royalty had it been known. "That is why she can use the power of the ring," Galadriel paused and looked at the troubled warrior, "and that is why she could save you." He was silent. "What she has given up I will not speak of, only she can tell you that."