Nothing much had changed in the little house on the edge of Minas Tirith. It was cleaner, I suspected, though it was hard to see in the darkness. There were new objects here and there, packs, weapons, a weapon rack, crates in a dark corner. Numerous seats of various sizes around the edge where a fire was as well as cushions of various shapes and sizes. It had been set up for a larger group of people instead of just two women.

What I did notice that compared to the room up near the great hall, the one designed for a 'Princess', this place was pretty bare. Not that I minded. It actually relaxed me quite a bit to be back in a place that didn't make me feel like walking on the carpet was like walking on a masterpiece.

"The hobbits have agreed they prefer the basement." Aragorn said from my side. I blinked. We had a basement? Wow, that was so cool.

"I wouldn't mind..."

"You need not feel guilty. They are used to homes in the ground. It is more comfortable for them down there. Your old room is empty for you now." Aragorn moved closer, lowering a lantern he'd had to a table, and added, "Is the cut a bad one?"

"Not really. It's already stopped bleeding." I checked to make sure. I was right though. Boromir, for all his talk, had been petrified of injuring me 'in this condition'. Aragorn checked anyway and nodded.

"I hope he did not torment you too much tonight. I had hoped you would be better with some time alone." Aragorn moved towards the kitchen, sliding a thin piece of wood into the wood heated stove, fiddling with it as he did.

"Was it really five days?"

"No, four."

I was going to kick Boromir's ass again. I supposed four was as bad as five. I crossed my arms and sat down at the little kitchen table while he knelt in front of the wood stove. "How is ...your crowning? Day? Thing?"

"The coronation planning is out of my hands now." He shrugged. Aragorn seemed to at least be coping with the idea of being King. Me? Sure, I could see him as a great King, but at the same time he was still Aragorn to me. "Which is a relief. I have much on my mind about that which comes beyond the ceremony."

"I bet. King."

"Aye. King." He laughed softly. Aragorn closed the door to the wood stove and turned to me. "I did not mean to trap you with the confines of a title as well. I may not have thought this through. Unfortunately there are now problems with it."

Uh oh. I breathed in slowly. Whatever it was, I could handle it, I wasn't going to panic.

"Being with-child and unmarried, within the eyes of Gondor, is going to cause you problems."

Oh, bloody hell, how had I not seen this coming? I screwed up my face as he continued.

"I do not wish to pressure you but Boromir has informed me you intend on staying longer." Aragorn looked increasingly uncomfortable as he spoke. "You must be aware- if you remain here, pregnant, and unmarried, I cannot change the opinion of those within Minas Tirith. It would be difficult."

For him too, I bet, seeing as I was his 'sister'. I wanted to stab something again. Problems were great. They distracted from Legolas. But I had no clue what to do. "You mean I'd have trouble walking along the street or something?"

"You may have more trouble than you'd like. The people of Minas Tirith are not bad but a crowd can forget itself very quickly. I do not say it to worry you or with the expectation that you'd leave. I am preparing you for a difficult time."

With that cheery thought he went to bed and I went to my own. The room was a little different, the bed was different, sheets maybe from the 'princess' chambers, this one also a four poster bed with the velvet curtains. There was a nicer rug. A painting on the wall of a forest meadow. I undressed and crawled into the bed, inhaling slowly as I smelt something familiar under the sheets.

Legolas had been here. Maybe not recently but I could smell it. I flopped down against the cool sheets, cheek pressed against the pillow, and tried to sleep.

It didn't work though. I just lay there, head repeating Boromir's words over and over, staring into the darkness. Obsession? What did he mean by that? Had I ...was I... obsessed with Legolas? I loved him. That was an absolute truth that I knew deep down. And here I was, lying in the bed he'd lain in, and I ...well, I wanted to go find him.

Obsession? Could love become obsession?

Boromir's words unsettled me big time. In a way... I did live around Legolas. There was the time before him, in 'my world', and then there was the time with him. Literally from the moment he plucked me out of the river. Now I felt like I was in 'after Legolas' time.

Was that unhealthy? That my entire life was revolving around him?

My sleep was uneasy and it wasn't long after I fell asleep that I was woken again anyway. Aragorn stood there, half his profile visable in the dim light of a lantern, knocking on the inside of my wall as he stood there.

"...What?" I mumbled, sitting up, confused and groggy. "What?"

"I am sorry. But you are needed. Boromir and Farmair have sent for you."

"Now?"

"Apparently this could not wait." Aragorn frowned and lowered the lantern onto the chest of drawers.

I dressed again, pants, belt, long tunic, then remembered that the belt was supposed to go over the tunic. Or was it under? Second belt. Couldn't hurt to have both. I took three seconds to realise that it COULD hurt- my pants were too tight- and abandoned the belt under the tunic quickly.

No time to worry about hair. Or... maybe there was. I didn't know. Truthfully I was too sleep to care about hair. I brushed it for three seconds before heading out into the hallway with the lantern.

"My Lady. I will escort you." A nervous looking man in the traditional metal plate spoke up from downstairs as I came down.

"Is it far? Her leg is not so good."

I had forgot about it, honestly, I'd gotten so used to getting around with it.

"The library, my Lor... Sire." He added quickly, "I can walk slow." It was kind of funny. The guy was a few years older than me, maybe, but so new and nervous that he seemed to be unsure about how to act, what to say, like we were some special species he had to be VERY careful around.

"All right." I agreed. I was kind of amused. Was every soldier around here some nervous guy?

Aragorn leaned in, voice low and soft, as he informed me, "Boromir delights in sending the new soldiers to yourself or to my side. He torments them greatly over our safety."

Sadistic bastard. I was kind of amused though. Another distraction that diverted me from the usual place I kept sinking into. The new soldier led me up through the darkness, the stars bright between clouds, and he kept at a slow pace that I could keep up with.

It was so cold outside now, a light rain drizzling down, and I noticed that there was a tavern between the house and the top. Those people seemed pretty warm.

"Come, my Lady." The soldier urged softly. As we passed by, I felt eyes on me suddenly, stares. For the first time since I'd come to the city...well, except for the battle itself... I felt pretty uneasy. He glanced back too. "They come to trade. I do not think they are bad but they drink."

"So avoid them."

"My sister told me that they can make some comments they shouldn't to women when they drink." He responded, glancing backwards, and we heard laughter.

"Are you new?"

"I fought at the battle. I'm not that new." He responded. "Captain Boromir wants me to do night duty for a few months. Get used to the dark. He said the Orc prefer the dark and … is it true you fought?"

I nodded and he smiled. "My sister thinks it was true. Mother doesn't. I'll tell her. Here we are."

We ended up at a larger library. I hadn't seen this one yet. It was massive, endless rows of books and scrolls, carved into a building near the top of Minas Tirith, with heavy iron doors that weren't quite on right. The front of the library had been devastated, even now I could tell, with the traces of fires and damage in the stone. I had to assume Orc had smashed their way in here and played a bit... but without actually being able to read they'd probably gotten pretty bored with a pile of papers.

"This way, my Lady."

I was led past the main room and into a long hall with various doors going to smaller rooms. As we walked I heard an argument drift down the hall towards us.

Boromir. I didn't have to hear the words to know his tone of voice.

"I have refused. Why do you continue to goad me?" Boromir's voice drifted down the hall. I hesitated, wondering if I should back off, but I heard him continue, "I have refused the place of Steward-Prince. There is none better for it than my brother. I am content and comfortable as Captain of Gondor and-"

"And what of your father's wishes? Faramir is not so useless as Denethor believed, I do not disagree, but you were intended to take his place when he died." An unfamiliar voice. "You spent your life being trained..."

Oh crap. Yet another complication of bringing Boromir back to life. I stayed frozen, even as the guard glanced back, and when he gestured for me to continue to follow I did. Warily. As I came around the corner into a smaller room Boromir spoke.

"And everything I was taught I taught my brother." He caught sight of me and held out a hand. The urge to hang onto it when I saw a complete stranger standing there, a dark haired man with a few lines of silver through his hair, was surprisingly overwhelming. I clenched my hand to avoid it. "This is Wenduin. Wenduin, this is my uncle. Prince Imrahil, who acts as Steward until the time Faramir is strong enough. He is the brother of my mother."

Faramir wasn't acting as steward yet? Really?

"Uncle, this is the Lady Wenduin."

"Princess Wenduin." Prince Imrahil corrected his nephew softly. "An honour to meet the Lady that I have heard so much of."

I wanted to cringe at the title. But I was too busy trying to suddenly figure out what to do. Curtsey? In a panic, hidden deep inside, I nodded my head and was relieved when he did the same. Apparently 'head bowing' was appropriate. "Please, just call me Wenduin."

"As if we were family?" He actually smiled. It reminded me of Faramir's smile than Boromir, this gentle smile that warmed the older man's eyes, and he nodded. "And you may then call me Imrahil. I must thank you for saving Boromir's life. How old are you?"

"Eighteen." The words came out before I could say them. Was that really my age? Nineteen? I wasn't sure it even fit any more. But I was, wasn't I? I'd had a birthday somewhere between Rivendell and Minas Tirith. I'd promised Brian to lose my virginity to him on my birthday. I felt like I had aged ten years since then. I felt stronger. Older. Maybe I had gotten my age wrong after all. I hadn't a clear memory, after all, and … who knew? The answer seemed to please him though.

"Then you are just a few years younger than my youngest daughter." Imrahil's eyes went to Boromir, "And near the same age as my sister when she agreed to marry your father. He was also in his early forties when they married."

Oh, really? His mother married young then. Okay. 'Agreed' to marry young. But then I was married now too. The last part's meaning only dawned on me after a moment and I blinked. Oh boy. What had Boromir told him?

Before I could open my mouth Boromir spoke. Probably cut me off on purpose. "This is not the issue I wanted to discuss. Wenduin, you spoke of foreseeing the future, and that Faramir was Steward. Did you not?"

Oh. I got it. "Yeah. I saw Faramir as steward."

Boromir relaxed somewhat.

"But Boromir was not alive."

"No..." I admitted. This uncle of his, Imrahil, was boring into me with his eyes. "No, he wasn't. But Faramir was meant to be ..."

"In the absence of you." Imrahil turned to Boromir. "I do not doubt her visions. They are what saved you. But to abandon your title so easily..."

"I am happy, uncle, and do not feel any loss over it. Why can you not accept it?" Boromir flopped heavily against the desk and sat there, arms crossed, frustration all over his face. I wondered why it mattered what his uncle thought, aside from the whole moral thing, but apparently it did. I didn't need to for long- Boromir continued. "The Council have agreed to uphold my decision. Can you not agree?"

"Not until I am certain it is the right one. You are the hero of Minas Tirith..."

"I was, and now Faramir is as well. His bravery and honour holds great respect amongst my men." Boromir groaned. I wondered if I should leave but when he met my eyes, he was clearly happy with me staying, and I leaned against the desk as well somewhat. Unladylike slumping? Tough... really. He reached out to clasp his hand over mine and I hesitated, allowing it just a moment before drawing my arms back to cross my arms.

Imrahil had not missed this, of course, and he seemed to have enough restrain to not comment. He raised one of his eyebrows though.

I decided this was probably a good time to head back. I'd said what Boromir had needed me to say. Standing up, I opened my mouth to say something, and Boromir got the hint.

"I have said my piece." He stood up again, straight. "I am staying as Captain. There will be no man greater suited to Steward than my brother. If you do not support him openly, I will, as will his men."

"I support you both." Imrahil called after us. But he didn't follow.

Boromir slid his arm through mine, leaning against me, and waved the guard off as he tried to follow. "Back to the wall."

"Yes, Captain."

I walked slowly beside him, gazing around the library, reaching out to touch a book that'd been left on a table. Interesting. It was a family tree. Boromir froze as I slowed and he watched me as I traced the names on the thick paper. I looked up at him. "Weren't you supposed to be tied up?"

"Aragorn will delay it till tomorrow night, as my uncle had urgent business. Or so he claimed."

"Then we'll have a rematch."

"Will we? If you wish a rematch then I gladly will fight at a chance to not be strug out naked for my soldiers to torment. Look. Here we are." He reached out to twist the book a little towards him and pointed to where his and Faramir's names sat. "They have left room for our children. The next page will be for the children of our children. A new age."

I had to assume by 'our' he meant his and Faramir's children. I didn't ask though. If I asked he'd, even if he HAD meant himself and Faramir, would probably not miss the opportunity to suggest us again. Boromir was moving towards the door again anyway and I followed slowly.

He waited for me at the door and slid his arm through mine again. We walked slowly, side by side, the city so still and quiet that it could seem almost dead again. I gazed around for signs of life. They were subtle but there. Squeak of rats. The smell of people, which wasn't all pleasant, but also in some windows the flicker of light which meant fires were being kept going all night. There was the clear smell of smoke.

"It's so quiet at night." I said quietly as we stopped at the edge. "Isn't it?"

"As the warmth of summer comes there will be more and more life past the darkness. Tonight is a spring night none but the mad would be out in. Would you like my cloak?" Boromir agreed. I shook my head.

"Do you have festivals. Celebrations?"

"Aye, and it will not be long before the next. There will be great streamers tied from post to post, upon each level of Minas Tirith, music, and we will have peformers come from far and wide. It is to celebrate the approaching summer." Boromir grinned. "It is the mid-summer celebration that you would like most, I think, for the warmth lingers from dusk to dawn during that time and many will remain up all night during the full moon. We feast, we dance, and we enjoy the warmth of the night. Once, when I was a boy, it was tradition to ride to the river and to swim and dance beside it. As the dangers of Mordor grew too much it was abandoned. I intend on resuming that tradition this year."

"It sounds nice."

"This city, I love, but it is far more formal than I like." Boromir's arm crossed over my shoulders again, his cloak in one hand, and I was pulled into the warmth between his body and under the fur lined cloak. "Many are in bed too early. Now. Osgiliath. That was a city that I can see you loving. Music, dancing, the very best artists on the land, and even at dawn in the cold of winter there was still men and women upon the streets."

"Even though it was so trashed?" I hadn't even seen it yet but I had vague memories of it being ...well, rubble. An endless battle ground.

"I speak of its history. When it was the capital." Boromir shrugged lightly. "But I spent much time as a youth learning of the history of Gondor. I swore that as Steward I would begin the rebuilding and restore her. Now, as I am Captain, perhaps I can do that freely as Faramir takes the role of Steward."

"You can do that?"

"Aragorn has already spoken of wishing to restore Osgiliath and the lost city of Annúminas. I will build you a home there." He breathed out slowly and stopped, pulling me into his arms, and when I went to shove him back, Boromir just tightened his arms and grinned down at me. "You felt cold, my lady."

"I can still retract our rematch and get Aragorn to tie you up, my Lord." I snapped. It was so hard to be angry or to push him away when he was in this kind of mood. This almost dreamy mood. "What's this about a home for me?"

"I promise. Live here or far away, there will be a home for you in Osgiliath, right beside the river. And another in Annúminas."

"Seems like a waste if no one's there."

Boromir ignored my statement. He rested his chin on my head. "It will have a balcony and and a room for your child, should he or she come to Gondor to visit, and a garden."

I felt tired suddenly. I didn't know where I would be in nine months, in ten years, and I had no clue where my baby would be. His arms still held onto me and I leaned against him now, breathing out, sadness filling me again. His dreams made me sad. I didn't know if I could ever forefill them. No, I wasn't with Legolas, but …

"I'll probably have to return to my world, you know."

Boromir grunted and tightened his arms. "Not if I have much to say. I must find Lord Elrond."

"Enough." I muttered. I slid down out of his grasp. "Maybe they're right. Maybe … I don't know. No. I do know."

Well, okay. I didn't know. But then, I didn't know a lot of things right now, and that problem was hanging over my head. I moved away on my own, ignoring the stare of the young soldier that was trailing after us, crossing my arms. The thought about that made me feel tired again, exhausted, and I just wanted to crawl back into bed. Boromir's affection did not help. Every time he was close by, every time he tried to do something with me, it woke me up. Angered me, or amused me, or stimulated my mind, or all of the above.

Some part of me wanted to be sorry for myself now. I wanted to be sad because Legolas was too. It seemed so wrong to keep finding myself smiling or laughing or something.

"You know I wasn't meant to be here." I said softly. I stared at him. He may have been handling my mortality better but ...well, reality just wasn't with him either.

He didn't follow. I glanced back. Boromir had frozen, his face shadowed, his body tense. He was actually walking away from me. Towards Gandalf, I realised, as I caught the old wizard's gaze. He nodded at me before Boromir grasped his arm.

It was probably better to leave Boromir to it. He had started to argue, I could tell, and he was seconds from dragging me into it. Or if not him, Gandalf, who I equally couldn't face.

I hurried away.

As I did, I swore that I was being followed. Being watched. It was like earlier, when I'd felt like Legolas had been in bed with me, because I was sure he was close by. I froze, glancing around, heart starting to thud hard. Nothing. Dark shadows, cold, the rain, and that was it.

It was amazing how dark these cities could get at night. There wasn't even so much as a lit lamppost out here. I shivered, watched as Boromir argued with Gandalf further up the street, something about 'her fate' from Boromir. But Gandalf just stood there. It looked like Gandalf was being the passive 'wall' and letting Boromir rant. Really not important. I turned and continued on alone.

"Okay, relax." I muttered. I stared around again. Legolas, however much it felt like it, was not behind me or beside me. If he was lurking in the shadows that was his problem. My leg made sure my going was slow and I tried to think as I hobbled down the street.

If I stayed here, would Legolas have to take the baby anyway? Or would I raise it here? Aragorn didn't know yet but Arwen would be here. Or would I … have to leave? Would I take the baby with me? Why were they so keen on keeping it here? I got that Elf children were treasures but...

Then again, how could I even have thought of taking this baby home when even I struggled with that world? I still didn't know much. I knew I had a boyfriend. I knew that I lived with him. Or had they rented the room out that I'd shared?

The glow of the tavern hit me suddenly and I blinked, freezing, as two shapes came close.

"You the woman?"

"Probably not." I muttered and stepped sideways. A hand closed over my wrist and I spun, slapping it hard, backing up. My leg just about gave way with that sudden motion. Tough. As I faced them, half-blinded by their lantern, I crossed my arms. They all stank like cheap beer and had that 'I need a woman' expression I'd started to associate with Boromir. So if they were waiting for a woman I clearly wasn't going to come close to what they wanted. "I'm not whoever you're waiting for."

"Don't know, brother, she's ..." The shortest of the three, who looked the oldest, looked a little less drunk than the other two. He blinked at me through hazy eyes. His lust seemed to dim somewhat. "She ain't the one."

"She'll do." That was the first man, younger than the other, and stronger. I suddenly had the sense that I needed a sword or something. My eyes flickered to his belt. Knife. They both had a knife. If they came close...

"That wasn't what I meant."

Arms grasped me, a hand sliding up my tunic, the smell of alcohol as third man grunted, "Hello, beautiful. Out looking for some real men?"

"Hold her arms." There was a third voice, sharper, and my 'knife' plan went out the window as my arms were twisted back painfully. Something rough brushed one arm and this time I went crazy, kicking, trying to get one arm free to grab a knife, while one of their stinking hands covered my mouth.

"Stop moving, girl..."

There was the flash of something, a knife, and something pressed against my neck. Cold and sharp. I froze.

"That's it, girl, you know what that is. Stop moving. We won't hurt you." The man behind me, slightly pudgy, breathed against the neck of my neck. "This woman has some hideous ears."

"Men, brother, I really..." The oldest man, the short one, still hadn't moved. His eyes were locked into my furious eyes, cringing somewhat, reaching out.

"We won't hurt her. Not much." The tall young one laughed as if this was the most hilarious joke. "Hold her but a moment..."

Fear reared sharply as the knife was dug in, even though it'd fallen to my collarbone, I was so aware of how drunk they were. They might slash my throat without even thinking. I froze, ignoring the grunt of 'good girl', watching as the young drunk man tried to kneel and pull my over-tunic off, leaving me in the sleeveless under tunic, and apparently a woman's bare arms were as big a turn on as ankles around here. He was so busy staring at them that he nearly tipped over sideways in the effort.

I wasn't so worried about having no warm over-tunic or having bare arms. It was when the man behind me literally shoved me against the edge of the building, and one of the men … I was too fogged with fear and anger to figure out who... was following as his hands went to his waist. To his belt. My body was twisted around so I was face first into the wall, a knife reappearing as I struggled, breathing hard in short sharp pants.

Oh fuck no. But I was afraid. I hated that I was afraid. I had a baby inside me and ...I didn't know what to do. I could cope with fighting Boromir, I knew he wouldn't be rough, but with men who were drunk? Who didn't know or care? It was the fear that paralysed me, fear of the blade, and of ...being there again. And where was Boromir? Fucking arguing with a wizard who'd let him go on all night.

What if this hurt the baby? Oh fuck. I couldn't cope with this. I twisted around, or tried to, striking whoever was close, ignoring the knife now. I struck out, punching the closest man, and cringed as sharp metal dug into my shoulder.

"I'm not … I am just passing by." I tried to snap. It didn't work. It sounded more like a plea. I hated how weak my voice was. It was my fear speaking, not my anger, and I tried to 'change channels'. Intimidate. I was feeling safe in this place and some drunken horny idiots had to ruin that. When I struggled, the knife dug in harder, and skin gave way so easily. "Let me go and I won't harm you. You don't want to... my friends..."

"Stay quiet and you'll see them soon. Who's first?"

"Brother, I don't think she's the one..." The voice, the oldest man of the three, was the reason I hadn't gone into full panic mode. He seemed to be sane. He was moving forward, actually pulling one of them away from me, adding, "We should wait."

The arm was actually being pulled off me, the older shorter man trying to pull me free, when Boromir finally caught up.

"Woman, can you not avoid a fight for three seconds?" Boromir. Cranky. I groaned with relief and then inhale sharply as the knife cut, whoever was holding it apparently either swaying or turning, which caused his 'casual' tone to change very fast. "These three were tiring of life, it seems."

I'd never heard Boromir so cold before. Never.

Apparently his tone got them to back up too, because I was suddenly let go of, and with two strides Boromir was beside me, blocking me from them, the softness of his cloak dropped over my shoulders. He turned me around slowly, ignoring them a moment, fingers grazing over where the knife had dug in.

"Are you all right?"

I nodded. He didn't believe me, I saw it in his face, and as his anger increased, my own seemed to drain out. Boromir. Stealing my anger. Typical. He turned. Massive man. Taller than all three of the drunk me.

I had never felt any more relieved than right now for him to be stealing my anger.

"Which of you wish to die first?"

"Come on, man, we were just going to have a little fun... have a dip... welcome to join us..."

Boromir struck out at the speaker, who just so happened to be the one who had his pant halfway down his legs and was now nearly tripping over them trying to get them on, and the force of his blue sent the man stumbling back. There was a sickening crack as one side of the man's body struck a pile of crates. Wood or bone, I wasn't sure, but it wasn't him I was focused on.

I'd never seen Boromir so angry. Never. Not even when fighting Orc. I could barely ...recognise him. He was approaching one of the other men, his breathing hard, the veins in his necks standing out, and he grasped the throat of the nearest with such speed that they barely had time to blink.

Boromir grabbed the throat of one of the other two, lifting him up, his face white with rage as he squeezed hard. "I've heard reports about you. Harassing our women."

"Thought she was … was... one of your whores..." The man gasped, grasping at Boromir's hand, and beside the big man he looked pretty scrawny and pathetic.

" Do you know the penalty in Gondor for this?" Boromir hissed softly. It suddenly snapped in my head. He wasn't just angry. He was about ready to kill them. The man's face was starting to turn purple and he was making some weird rasping sounds.

"Boromir, I'm fine." I grasped his arm, tugging, his muscles hard. Okay. Bad. He more or less ignored me. This was a first. "Let him down." Freaked out, sure, but ...well, they were drunk. There was better punishments. Like tying them up for a day so everyone could throw rotten tomato at them. "Nothing happened." Nothing more than bared arms and ...well, knives.

I was grabbed, Boromir's head snapping to the side, that sharp metal pressed against my throat again.

"P... put him down. Put my brother down. You'll kill him!" It was the oldest of the three men, the short one, and I could literally feel his heart pounding against my back, his arm iron around me, his breathing hard. I squeezed my eyes shut when the blade dug in a little too deep for safety. "Put him down or I'll … I swear. It was a mistake. We hired a whore. I tried to tell him but..."

"Did you not see the fear?" But Boromir's hand relaxed around the man's throat, his other hand reaching out for me. They'd pretty much spotted his weakness straight off. Me. No one answered. I squeezed my eyes shut as the blade sunk deep a moment, warmth flooding down my neck, heard Boromir's sharp inhale.

"If she dies, you all die, and I will make sure it is the most painful death I can imagine." He scowled and flung the man to the ground, very hard, and the man stumbled to remain standing, grasping at his neck, wheezing for air. Boromir twisted towards me. "Release her now."

"Sometimes they look afrai... when they're new... or young..." The third man, the one with a broken bone somewhere, hissed softly. He was kneeling, cradling his arm, hunched over, face drained of blood as he tried to breathe.

This statement did not pacify Boromir. He twisted around, fury filling his face again, and grabbed the kneeling man. Or went to. Something whistled through the air, something fast, and the man fell back with a soft cry of pain. He stared at the arrow in his thigh like he couldn't believe it. His eyes shot to the nearest guard tower.

"About time." He muttered.

The man behind me stiffened. Suddenly he was gone too, the cold of the night replacing his panicked grasp on me, and he was on the ground grasping onto his leg, face drained of blood.

Arrows. So perfectly shot. I knew, even if Boromir had thought otherwise, that this had nothing to do with any Minas Tirith soldier.

I felt him before I saw him, felt his presence, his eyes, and shut my eyes a moment. Legolas.

Time seemed to slow, I barely noticed or felt Boromir has he tried to get me to stand, barely heard him calling for guards or some shit like that. When I opened my eyes, I couldn't see Legolas, but I knew he was around. Was he hiding on a roof? My eyes were scanning the dark buildings again, even as Boromir spoke at me, but I couldn't really hear him.

I saw movement. Just a brief second. Time slowed more, as our eyes met, and even though there had to be several hundred metres between us... I'd seen him. He'd seen me. It was as clear as if we'd been merely feet apart. His brows were furrowed, the merest trace of anger on his face, but it was nothing like Boromir. He was ...controlled. Calm. Deadly, sure, but calm. Then he was turning and leaving.

I wanted to call for him to come back. I wanted to …

The sense of 'going mad' returned big time. What was wrong with me.

A sharp slap shocked me out of my daze, Boromir's hand lowering, and he grasped my head, twisting it back, some kind of cloth wrapped around my neck. "Snap out of it, woman."

"Legolas..."

"Twas probably an archer from one of the towers. Slow tonight!" He called the last part, with a gruff grunt, and it was only now I saw the three men were being restrained by a pair of older soldiers.

"Sorry, Captain."

"The cut isn't bad. The woman has lost her mind again." Boromir raised his hand to slap me again. I blinked and, before he could slap me again, I hit him hard in the stomach. To my surprise, he actually laughed, and pulled me against him in a hard embrace. "There you are."

"Yes, let me go."

"Not a chance."

I hit him hard, harder than before, only to get kicked in return. I scowled. "Ow!"

"You deserve it for walking away on your own without a weapon, woman."

"Well, you were the one trying to argue with Gandalf..."

If the soldiers thought it was strange we were hitting each other and arguing apparently they didn't want to show it because they were turning quickly, one of the men being dragged, the other two being marched off somewhere.

"You walked away from me. In the dark."

"You were arguing with Gandalf." I stood back. Boromir stepped forward to match me, cloak still around me, and when I tried to step back, he literally bundled me up into his arms like I was a damsel. "I had it totally under control. Put me down!"

"Yes, with a knife to your throat and a baby to protect, I saw. Not on your life, woman, not until you're safe at home."

I hit him, hit him all the way home, but it was half-hearted. Legolas was in my mind and ...well, I was kind of relieved he'd shown up.

"Thanks." I mumbled, against his shoulder, and added, "Sorry."

"Minas Tirith is safe, much of the time, but no city is safe at night. Where is your sword?"

"At home."

"Useless there." Boromir slowed down as we reached the door. I opened it and we went through, his foot closing it behind us, and he only put me down when we'd reached my room.

I didn't know why I didn't tell him Legolas had been there. He was twisting back towards me, fingers gentle now against my jaw as he twisted my head, tracing the cuts and gritting his teeth. "If one had not been already finding his senses, I would have gutted the three."

"That wouldn't have solved anything." I muttered. I prodded him in the stomach as he started to put pressure on one of the deeper cuts, inhaling sharply at the pain, adding, "Why weren't any guards watching them if they've been harassing women?"

"In truth I did not pay heed to it. I heard they spent time with our whores and thought nothing more of the other rumours."

"Even the soldier who took me to the library knew about it. His sister was worried enough to tell him." Or something like that. I added, "You should have had guards."

"This is why you will become a soldier here, should you stay, for you are probably right."

"Really?" I blinked at him. He wasn't kidding. Boromir was too focused on my cuts to be joking around.

"Aye, and do not ask what others think. I do not care." Boromir bent forward, suddenly, clearly intending on kissing me. I froze and without thinking my hand was between our mouths, pushing him back. "Do not make me tie you up, so I may kiss you, for we are alone at last and I would like to-"

"I saw Legolas." The words slipped out as my cheeks reddened. Okay. He hadn't said ANYTHING yet. But I had a bad feeling where he'd been going with that.

This killed whatever mood he'd been trying to work himself into. Boromir flopped against the wall. "And?"

"And I saw him." And what else? "He was there tonight. We ...looked at each other."

"Is that all?" Something was in his face. Hurt? Sadness? I wasn't sure. Anger, he was still angry and tense, but something else had joined it.

"I don't know." I admitted. His expression was making my stomach twist painfully. I'd never seen him look so … I didn't know. Disappointed. "We did see each other. It was weird. I felt … I felt like..."

"You miss him." When I nodded, he sighed, and I wished I hadn't agreed. Something broke in his face and he twisted away as if he couldn't even look at me now. "Then you have returned to his side. I have lost my chance to win your heart."

"I … I don't know!" I slid down to sit on the bed, crossing my legs, his reaction surprising. Had he been waiting for me to return to Legolas all this time? I couldn't. I couldn't mess his future up. Suddenly I felt like I was looking forward to the crowning. Then, at least, Legolas would leave. I felt so claustrophobic suddenly. Legolas following me outside. Boromir with me all the time inside. "I miss him. I miss you when you're not around." His head swung up at that but I continued, staring at my hands, refusing to meet his eyes. "I'm so confused right now. I don't know what to do. Some part of me wants to just leave. Leave everything. I don't know how to please both of you."

Maybe Rivendell for nine months wasn't such a bad idea after all. Maybe Lord Elrond had a good point.

I didn't know. All those weeks of doubt. Yes, they'd gone away whenever Legolas had been close enough to touch, but then he'd vanish for a while and they'd return.

"You can not please us both. All I would ask of you is that you please yourself." Boromir said softly. I still refused to look at him. "Do not think of us at all. If you are happy, then I am, and I do not doubt Legolas would feel the same way."

"You said it's obsession."

"I was angry."

"Do you think that's what it is?"

"I do not know." Boromir sighed. "I feel my own control slip around you, as you have well noticed, so perhaps all love is obsession. But when I see you and he loose the desire to live, I cannot help but only hear that word."

That hurt. He'd lost it? But he'd said … he'd said we were two halves of the same soul. Or something. Except that I was mortal. And by being with me, I changed his future, and ...I groaned softly, head in hands, fingers in my hair.

"I don't know what to do. I shouldn't have let it go so far. I knew something was wrong with it."

"What do you mean?" His voice had tensed, suddenly, and I heard him twist towards me slowly.

"I feel so bad. I … maybe if I'd just trusted my feelings earlier, he wouldn't be like this." I said quietly. The news about Legolas was not welcome. The urge to run to him rose up so badly... I wanted to hold him, and kiss him, and braid his hair, and explain everything.

I missed him.

Fuck, I loved him. And the sense of betraying Boromir again weighed on me. If I went to Legolas, I betrayed them both, and that was the sad truth of it. I didn't know what the fuck Legolas' future had to do with ...well, anything, really.

Boromir had no future. He was supposed to be dead right now. I couldn't screw him up unless I broke his heart.

"I guess... I should have told him my doubts right from the start. Maybe he'd at least had warning then." And it wouldn't be close to being 'obsession'. Or would it? I didn't know.

And what was with the sight thing? Why … why did I keep seeing distance so clearly? Was that because Legolas did something to help? I had to assume that was it. He'd wanted me to see him tonight. Had he hoped I'd change my mind?

I was seconds from it. I really was. Just knowing he was out there right now watching my back... I was seconds from going to the balcony and trying to call him. But Boromir kept heavy in my mind and chest.

"Doubts?" Something in Boromir's tone made me look up to where he reclined across my bed. He was staring at me like I'd said something terrible. He actually looked hurt and upset with me now. "You had doubts? What doubts?"

"I... of course. I mean, um, it was … well, it was difficult. I always knew that. You know what I mean. You seemed to notice." Didn't he?

"I thought I was going mad, Wenduin, I thought my heart was following the madness my father had!" His face had paled with anger. "You had doubts about Legolas?"

"I-"

"I cannot believe you did not listen to me then! All this time! And that child … it could have been mine! Did I not always make it clear to you how I felt?" He stood up, stumbling a bit, and the expression on his face was terrible. Not just anger. Hurt. Really terrible hurt. "Did I not show you that I loved you?"

"You were going to offer me to your brother!"

"Yes, and I would not offer anything less to the man I love most, than the woman I love most! You would have been happy and I would have been happy for it."

"Then why can't..." I corrected myself just in time as his face darkened, "...couldn't you be happy for me?"

"I was last night! And I still am! Nay, I am not, for I have just found out that this entire time you felt the same way about me and your Elf as I did! And you lied to me! To him! That child could have been mine! Many a time I wish..."

"What?"

"I wish that child was mine. That I had … but no, I could never do such a thing to you."

I got it. He wished he'd really done it. Forced himself onto me. I felt my own anger rise as my face paled. I could barely remember the illusion now, just fragments, but it was enough to remind me of how traumatised I'd been. "You bastard... and that child would never have been yours. It was conceived in Lothlorien." Most likely.

"Lothl..." He shut his eyes. More hurt. Regret too, that he'd admitted that terrible thing, but he said anyway, "I would love your child as if it were my own, no matter who or how it was begun. Do not mistake me. I do not hate your child. It is yours and so I love it as much as I love you."

"Boro-"

Once again I was cut off as his eyes locked into mine. I couldn't find the energy to speak. Fuck. Why had I admitted that?

"All this time. You could have told me. One word. One moment. I would have been there for you. All this time, you agreed with me, that Legolas was not right. That an Elf and a human could not remain lovers. If it had ended sooner, would Lord Elrond take that child away? Would he even know who's it was? If nothing else, I could have protected it."

I felt the blood drain out of my face. "I'm sorry. I couldn't pretend anyway."

"I know. I know also that you hurt. This was not easy. But … so long, you could have told me, and ..." His eyes widened. "Is it my age? Do you reject me because of my age?"

"What? No! You're only..."

"Forty."

Okay. Twice my age. I hesitated long enough to add to the pain on his face. It was like rejection Boromir all over again. My chest hurt and I was sure I was about to cry all over again. Legolas and now Boromir. I suddenly hated all males. Couldn't stand it. I felt suffocated. He'd gone from so good to ...well, this.

"My father and my mother also shared this difference in age and were happy until her last days! I..." He inhaled sharply, shut his eyes, clenched his fists, his breathing heavy. "I cannot look at you. Not right now. You will have to excuse me. I... I swore to bring your Elf back. If it makes you happy, I would spend every last breath ensuring you two may remain together, but … I do not know myself now. I need a moment to breathe."

And with that, he was gone. Just walked out. Slammed the door even.

I was breathing hard, face white, staring at it as it continued to vibrate. It almost felt like I couldn't get enough air. Somehow I rose, slowly, my legs weak somehow. When I got to the door I locked it and for good measure, dragged something in front of it, this urge to keep everyone out overwhelming. I felt so sick.