"Who do you think of?" came Legolas's voice out of the trees of Lothlorien. Boromir whirled; startled. As was becoming the norm the elf had appeared silently in a space that had been vacant a mere moment before.
"Who?" Legolas repeated walking into the moonlight. At Boromir's affronted look, he continued, "You nearly always appear as a soldier, but at times you lower your guard. When your thoughts or words stray to your brother. Who is this one that has you look a man and not a Son of the Steward?"
For a moment Legolas thought he had pushed too far. Although Boromir had grown more open to the Fellowship he had kept a slight distance with the elf. Privately Legolas thought that it was probably due to the utter absence of Elves in his life. Dwarves were known as great craftsmen, hobbits could be looked at as smaller versions of Men and even Isildur's Heir was a Man as he was, but an Elf was one who had walked out of a legend into the mortal world. Still, they had traveled together on a common errand becoming brothers-in-arms of sorts he was curious about the man, and if he could be on friendly terms with a dwarf then where was the danger in speaking to a the man?
"Keen are the eyes of the Elves," Boromir finally replied sardonically. "Yes, I think of one dear to me. What is it to you?"
"An observation," Legolas replied mildly, and waited. No need to say that he was starting to wonder who Boromir was and not just what he was.
"Silael." The word was uttered so softly even his Elf-ears strained to hear.
"Her name is Silael."