8-year-old Boromir stood at Denethor's side along with 3-year-old Faramir. Denethor insisted that his sons spend the day watching their father handle business. Boromir watched the people of Minas Tirith come in and discuss matters with the Steward. He wanted to know what to expect when he became the next Steward.

"Who's next?" Denethor asked.

"Gamling of Rohan, my lord", the guard said.

"Rohan? What does a man of Rohan want in Gondor?"

Boromir was fascinated. He had never seen a person from Rohan, nor saw his father deal with matters of Rohan. He watched as a tall man with long blonde hair and a beard walked into the hall. The man held the hand of a small child who looked no older than Faramir. The child's face was hidden by the hood of the cloak it wore.

"Remove your hood, child", Gamling said pulling it down.

Boromir silently gasped as he saw the face of a little girl. He didn't know any girls, but he knew this one was pretty. She looked back at him with brown eyes. A blush formed over her rosy cheeks.

"Boromir?"

Boromir jumped as Solatiri's voice brought him back to reality. She was ahead of him and looking back at him. He quickly caught up with her.

"Something wrong?" Solatiri asked.

"Not at all", he answered. "I just had a moment of sentiment."

She said nothing as she smiled. She turned back to their map.

"Over the next hill should be Rivendell."

"At last", Boromir sighed.

"You know more about the Elves. What are they like?"

"They're supposed to be the most beautiful creatures in all of Middle-Earth. When they speak, their language is like the sound of bells."

Solatiri listened completely mesmerized by his description. She was excited to see what the Elves looked like as well as Rivendell.

"Look", Boromir said.

Solatiri watched as Rivendell came into view. She gasped as she took in the view. Rivendell was a civilization built in the trees. The waterfall flowed freely next to the trees. Elves on horses patrolled the area.

"Boromir, it's so beautiful", Solatiri said.

The two rode ahead into Rivendell as they looked in awe.

After settling in, Boromir and Solatiri walked through the woods of Rivendell. Solatiri looked at him and smiled. He looked back at her. It was almost as if Rivendell had made her more beautiful than normal.

"Everything is beautiful", she said.

"Like you", he said absent-mindedly.

Solatiri blushed as he took her hand. They walked into the House of Elrond and stopped in front of a painting. It had the image of Isildur holding a broken sword against Sauron.

"History before us", Solatiri murmured.

From the corner of his eye, Boromir noticed someone watching them. He turned to see someone sitting on a bench holding a book, looking at them. He looked nothing like the Elves they saw.

"You are no Elf", Boromir said.

"Men of the South are welcome here", the man answered.

Solatiri looked to see a Man around Boromir's age looking back at them. He had dark hair and light eyes. He

"I'm sorry", she said. "We didn't know anyone was here."

"No harm done."

"Who are you?" Boromir asked.

"I'm a friend to Gandalf the Grey", the man answered.

Boromir nodded as he looked in thought.

"Then we are here on common purpose…friend."

Boromir gave an awkward smile as the Man looked at him and Solatiri in silence. Trying to feel less awkward, he pulled Solatiri to a statue that held the broken pieces of a sword.

"The Shards of Narsil!" Boromir said in amazement.

He picked up the handle and held it in his hands as if the sword was whole. "The blade that cut the Ring from Sauron's hand."

His fingers went down the blade examining it. He accidentally cut his fingers when he touched the edge.

"It's still sharp", he murmured.

Boromir turned to see the Man still looking at them. Feeling even more awkward, he turned away and laid the sword back on the table.

"No more than a broken heirloom", he scoffed.

The handle fell off the table, to the floor.

"Don't you think you should pick that up?" Solatiri asked.

Boromir stopped and looked back at it. He turned and walked away. Solatiri looked back at the Man who stood up and picked up the handle.

"I apologize", she said. "That was disrespectable of him."

He said nothing as he returned the handle to its rightful place.