"And then he will be mine, he will lie revealed to me;
Patent and open beneath my eye he will sleep of me;
He will lie negligent, resign his truth to me, and I
Shall watch the dawn light up for me this fate of mine."
--D.H. Lawrence, Wedding Morn
Lying next to Boromir the following morning, Sedryn propped herself up on her hand and studied his beloved features visible in the dim light coming through the curtains. Last night…Last night had been… Dreams of your skin on mine, she suddenly recalled, blushing. It seemed that she had meant her promises to him more deeply than she realized.
"I knew you did." Boromir said sleepily, lifting a heavy arm to pull her back down to the pillows and closer to him. She settled happily into his arms, settling a kiss on his lips. For a while they laid there in silence. Sedryn felt her eyes growing heavy and was about to slip back into sleep when a tentative knock sounded at the door. She felt Boromir shift behind her. "Don't get up." He told her, throwing a dressing gown on. "I'll get it."
Opening the door, he found one of Denethor's squires waiting. "I apologize for disturbing you and your lady, my Lord, but I have been commanded to tell you that the Lord Steward requests your presence as well as that of Lady Sedryn and Lord Faramir as soon as you are able. He says that it is not urgent, but that the sooner you can come the better."
"Thank you." Boromir answered. "Was there anything else?"
The man shook his head. "No sir."
"Then that will be all. Thanks."
The man bowed and left.
Boromir turned back into the room and climbed back into the bed. "What do you think?" he said. "Shall we get out of bed?"
She crinkled her nose. "And I was so hoping to have you all to myself." She said drolly.
Boromir laughed. "Oh, you do. Always."
She smiled, suddenly shy. "Thank you." she said quietly. "I love you," she Sent.
"Likewise, Lady. Likewise." He answered as she sat up and tossed the blankets off. She smiled at him as he followed her example and began changing into his clothes. "So. Shall we break our fast and go to the Throne Room or shall we go to the Throne Room first?"
"Let's eat first. I'd rather be official and subservient on a full stomach," she remarked.
He laughed. "Very well then. First day of wedded life – are you ready?"
She nodded, and they went to breakfast. It was a quick affair—neither of them spent much time in culinary pursuits.
A short while after they ate, Faramir met them before the Throne Room. Here we go again, he sent to both of them as they walked in.
"Ah! There you are," Denethor said when he spotted them walking in. "I was beginning to think I should send another messenger—evidently Courage and Healing spent last night in, shall we say, other pursuits?" He said with a knowing grin. Sedryn felt a blush suffuse into her face, very much surprised that the Steward would bring up such a thing, however obliquely, in public.
"Don't blush child; we're all adults here. At any rate that's not why I called you here. The Elven Lord Elrond of Rivendell has sent a messenger to me, calling a meeting with representatives of all free peoples of Middle-earth to discuss something of great importance that has come to Rivendell, of Isildur's Bane!"
Boromir's look of surprise did not go unnoticed by the Steward. "You know of it?"
"I…dreamt of it." Boromir said, suddenly recalling his dream from yesterday morning. "I meant to tell you of it yesterday but I forgot to when you told us of your prophetic dream."
"Tell it to me now," Denethor ordered, seeming somewhat troubled. Boromir complied.
"The eastern sky grew dark, and a growing thunder sounded, but in the West a pale light lingered. Out of it a voice, soft yet clear, spoke, crying:
Seek for the Sword that was broken:
In Imladris it dwells;
There shall be counsels taken
Stronger than Morgul-spells.
There shall be shown a token
That Doom is near at hand,
For Isildur's Bane shall waken,
And the Halfling forth shall stand."
Why didn't you tell us! Faramir and Sedryn shouted through the link. I too have dreamt this dream, many times. Faramir added. I could have explained most of it to you.
I forgot. Boromir answered, abashed. In all honesty, I forgot. But why didn't you say anything?
What would I say, hm? What could I possibly say that would make Denethor listen to me? Faramir retorted. Let's see what he says to you.
Denethor was uneasy. For a while, he was silent. "The Sword that was Broken…" He spoke slowly. "That can only be Narsil. Doom…Isildur's Bane. A Halfling is a Hobbit. But—Bah! Doom? What doom? I have dreamt of victory." He shook his head. "I must think on this. Leave me; I will call for you when I have come to a decision."
Interesting, Faramir said. He grows troubled.
Boromir nodded. "Certainly, my Lord." He said.
Denethor watched them bow and retreat beyond the gate to the Hall. For such a thing as this…Denethor gathered his robes up and swept away to the Tower. If Boromir had dreamt it then Denethor would dare…dare to consult the stone…
……
When they were summoned to the Great Hall shortly after midday all three of them were hard put not to express surprise at Denethor's ineffably weary visage. He moved slowly down the steps, but when he faced them his eyes were unnatural and foreign.
"Boromir and Sedryn, you will leave tomorrow for Imladris. Find Isildur's Bane and bring it to Minas Tirith."
No sooner had the words left Denethor's mouth before Sedryn felt a horrible premonition of fear sweep over her. Breathing deeply, she forced herself to listen to Denethor's continuing words.
"I have looked, and I have seen. War will come to Gondor, but it can be averted only if you bring the…weapon here to me."
"It does not belong in Gondor." Faramir said, stepping forward as though propelled by some unseen force. His eyes were glazed and farseeing, and Denethor felt a chill go down his spine as the dark eyes were turned onto him. He knew that Faramir saw a vision.
"Bring the Ring to Gondor and Gondor will fall so far that it will remain desolate for ever. There will be two dark Morgul-towers staring eyelessly at each other from a barren plain." Faramir said. "The City of the Men of Numenor will lie forgotten, and the living stones will crumble until they do not linger even in the minds of the enslaved men working to slake Sauron's greed. Send any Gondorian and you sentence all of Gondor to death."
Both Boromir and Sedryn sprang to Faramir's side as he collapsed to his knees, unable to bear the strength of the vision that had him in its grip. Pain coursed through Faramir's body as he felt the land he was bound to burn in an everlasting fire. Boromir and Sedryn, dragged into his mind through the mind-clasp, scrabbled for some mental purchase before they were able to hoist Faramir out of the vision. Breathless, they sagged against one another.
Denethor's eyes were oddly soft as he looked at Faramir. "What you see is only a possibility, Captain, and it is one that Gondor has stared in the face for a very long time."
This time Boromir shook his head. "Sir, I cannot abandon my post. You know of my oath." He said quietly.
Indeed, Boromir's Oath was spoken of among all the soldiers of Gondor. He had sworn publicly that he would never let a battle end without seeing him at the front line. In essence, he had sworn never to let his soldiers—and all Gondor's soldiers were his soldiers, for he was the Captain-General of Gondor—fight without him.
Denethor's eyes hardened again. "Nevertheless," he barked. "That is my final decision. You will go. That is an order, Boromir!"
"Send me instead!" Faramir said. "Do not send the strength of Gondor away from it. I will go!"
"Cease your endless noise!" Denethor roared. "You can hardly stand after one of your visions. Boromir and Sedryn will go. I know your strengths, Faramir, and this is not one of them. Slink back to your precious Rangers, and tend to your duties!"
"The protection of Gondor IS my duty!" Faramir hissed, unfazed by his father's yelling.
"Stand down, Man! Stand down!" Denethor fumed. "Enough! You will protect Gondor, you mewling puppy. If you remember, you are the Captain of the Ithilien Rangers."
"We will go, Father. I will abandon my Oath and my country for your strange notions about Isildur's Bane. I do not promise to bring it here; I will only go because of my dream. However let me warn you, lord! My men are well accustomed to being accountable to Faramir. They trust him." Boromir said, his steely voice showing how much he was restraining his anger.
"The sooner you go the sooner you can return." Denethor said, but he didn't meet their eyes. "You are dismissed."
Bowing stiffly from the waist, the three stalked out of the room. To the house, Boromir said abruptly.
They walked together in silence until they reached the house, alone with their thoughts. Sedryn poked the embers in the fireplace into a blaze and put the kettle on to boil as they gathered around the kitchen table, Boromir and Faramir on each side and Sedryn standing by the fireplace.
Heaving a deep sigh, Boromir spoke. "We've gotten our orders." He said, and both Faramir and Sedryn heard the hurt and anger and distrust Boromir tried so carefully to hide. Sedryn went to stand behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders. He leaned his head back against her chest.
"We'll get through," she whispered, her voice full of desperate promise. "I'll pack for us both; you do what you need to."
He nodded. "I'll have to tell the men." Boromir said. "I know you would prefer not to be tied away from the Rangers, Faramir, so I will instruct Captain Ildrin to take charge of the Men unless either the City or Osgiliath comes under fire, in which case they will look to you for leadership. Will that suffice?" Boromir said.
Faramir nodded his head. "That would be best," he said, and Sedryn watched as the familiar worry she saw whenever they faced battle or danger settle on to the brothers faces, and she knew that it descended on her own face as well.
"I'll ship out tomorrow with the Rangers as well. We go to Ithilien." Faramir said. Boromir blinked in acknowledgement as Sedryn moved away to retrieve the boiling kettle. She poured out the tea and added a spoonful of sugar and a splash of milk to each . Accepting his cup, Boromir inhaled deeply as the fragrant steam wafted up. Sedryn handed Faramir his cup and sat down next to Boromir with her own clasped in both hands.
"We will get through," she insisted. "And if we don't, we'll make sure Gondor does, in one way or another."
"And if Gondor doesn't?" Faramir asked, his intent not to wound but to hear her answer. "We all felt a premonition when he ordered it. Gondor might not get through, Sedryn."
She turned eyes gone suddenly old to Faramir, and he realized that she had long since fully understood the danger Gondor faced every day, long before they were ordered to this fool's errand, long before even she and Boromir had wedded.
"You know…" he said, the words more a statement than a question.
She nodded. "I know. If Gondor falls then it won't matter. It will fall because everyone will be dead, and I'd far rather them dead than enslaved." She said. "I'd do my part to ensure it." She said, shrugging. Her voice had gone very low, and she did not meet their eyes.
In the thousands of times both Boromir and Faramir had thought of the ways Gondor could fall, could die, they had come to the same conclusion. They would rather kill their people than see them enslaved, and out of the three none knew whether it was right or wrong—they only knew that they would do it without hesitation at the worst. Boromir put an arm around her. "As would we both." He said.
"Then let us keep that in our minds, that we will never truly be enslaved as long as we can think, and when we can't it will not matter anymore." Faramir said and drained off his cup.
"We should tell the soldiers." Boromir said. Faramir nodded and got up from the bench.
"Shall I come?" Sedryn asked, unsure of her role here.
Boromir looked searchingly at her for a few long moments. "Yes." He said finally. "Please come."