The Power of Love -- A Dynasty Broken Book III

By Adara
ckyser@yahoo.com
 

Rating: GP-13 (Due to some mature topics)

Category: Romance/Drama (A/U)

Era: Third Age, Ring War

This is the first chapter of The Power of Love, the final book of A 
Dynasty Broken. However, you do not need to read the other two parts 
to follow this story, which can be read alone and easily followed. I 
include the recap below to get you up to speed if this is your first 
journey into my world.

Synopsis: I read in The Treason of Isengard, History of Middle-Earth 
Part 2, that Tolkien had included a daughter for Theoden King in an 
early draft of LOTR. He named her Idis. He also had plans to include a 
marital alliance between Gondor and Rohan. Tolkien discarded both the 
daughter and the marriage. However, it gave me an idea for my story, 
in which Denethor and Theoden arrange a political marriage for their 
children. In the first book, Love and Lust, Boromir becomes betrothed 
to the Princess of Rohan, who is named Eledwhen. She is raped shortly 
before the marriage takes place and flees Minas Tirith. Boromir tracks 
Eledwhen, learns of the rape, and decides to take her with him to 
Imladris. Boromir is seriously injured during the journey while 
fighting brigands. Eledwhen and Haldir, Elf of Lorien, save his life 
and the three travel to Lorien. At the end of Love and Lust, Boromir 
and Eledwhen exchange vows and become man and wife. She becomes 
pregnant with the man of Gondor's child.

The second book, Paths of Peril, takes Boromir to Imladris and relates 
the relationship between Boromir and Aragorn before and after the Man 
of Gondor learns about Aragorn's heritage. It is a study in how a man 
reared to be the Steward of Gondor deals with the man who would be 
King of Gondor. I left the Fellowship outside the gates of Moria after 
Gandalf's fall to the Balrog. The Princess of Rohan becomes ill and 
Boromir learns she may lose his child.

This book, The Power of Love, reunites Boromir and Eledwhen. The 
Princess will eventually leave Lorien with the Fellowship. The 
question is, can she save the man she loves from the One Ring? This is 
the way I wish Tolkien's Lord of the Rings had been written, since I 
am fond of Boromir. I hope you take the time to read Love and Lust and 
Paths of Peril if you haven't already. I must stress that all three 
books in my trilogy are A/U.

Once again, to maintain the flavor of Tolkien's original writings, I 
have used some of the Master's wording verbatim. Some of the words are 
paraphrased, but most are mine. I am not making any money off of this, 
so I hope the professor's heirs don't mind. Thanks to Tolkien for his 
wonderful imagination.






Reunion

The night wind was chilly as the Fellowship approached Lothlorien, the 
realm of the Galadrim. The remaining eight members could hear an 
endless rustle of leaves like poplars in the breeze. Although it was 
evening, they could see tall trees before them, arched over the road 
and stream that ran beneath their spreading boughs. A hint of fallow 
gold still clung to the quivering leaves, despite the winter chill. 
Aragorn stood listening, the hint of a smile on his face.

"Lothlorien!" he breathed softly. "Glad am I to hear again the wind in 
the trees. We are little more than five leagues from the gates, but we 
can go no farther tonight."

Boromir stood restlessly beside the stream. He was anxious to finish 
this leg of the journey and reach Caras Galadon. "I see no reason why 
we cannot push on. There is no shelter here from the orcs of Moria 
that surely hunt us."

Aragorn shook his head resolutely. "Long has it been since I visited 
these woods; I do not wish to travel within while dark remains. Nor 
can the hobbits continue much farther. We must find a place to camp 
for the night." Boromir started to protest, but the Ranger's dark look 
silenced him.

The members of the Company had walked little more than a mile into the 
forest when they came upon another stream. "Here is Nimrodel!" said 
Legolas. "Of this stream the Silvan Elves made many songs long ago, 
and still we sing them in the North."

Gimli grimaced and growled, "Surely you are not going to sing! All the 
orcs of Moria on our trail and you look as though you are about to 
burst into song!"

Legolas glared at the dwarf, but it was Boromir who spoke. "Would you 
two be quiet? I am sick to death of listening to the two of you 
quarrel! You are worse than a couple of children." Angrily he stomped 
to the water's edge, climbed down the steep bank and stepped into the 
stream. "It is not deep. The little ones should have no trouble 
crossing." The rest of the Fellowship followed his lead and tiredly 
crossed the Nimrodel.

Once on the other side, they sat and rested. Sam rummaged through the 
packs and found food for them to eat. Legolas gave Gimli a hard stare, 
then launched into tales of Lothlorien that had been held for years 
uncounted by the Elves of Mirkwood. "Do you hear the voice of 
Nimrodel?" Legolas asked. He then proceeded to sing the maiden's tale 
in the Westron Speech. Gimli started to speak, but remained silent 
when Aragorn drew his dagger and began cleaning his nails. The dwarf 
had not missed the Ranger's warning look.

After Legolas finished the song they all remained silent, each caught 
up in the beauty of the tale. At length Gimli brought up the subject 
of where they would sleep for the night. "The Galadrim may be able to 
dwell in trees, but most of us are not Elves." He cast a worried 
glance across the stream to the road that led back to Dimrill Dale.

Aragorn stirred and stared at the dark boughs above them. "I believe 
we shall be safer in the trees than on the ground. We have sat beside 
the road longer than is wise."

The four hobbits looked skeptically at the towering trees about them. 
Sam spoke for them all: "You won't get me up into one of those trees. 
Hobbits do not sleep in trees!"

The dwarf stood up and hefted his axe in his hands. "Well said, Master 
Gamgee. We are of the same mind. I will remain on the ground with the 
hobbits. The rest of you climb to your hearts' content. I shall keep 
my feet planted firmly upon the ground."

Aragorn gave the son of Gloin a withering stare, then proceeded deeper 
into the wood. Not far from the falls of Nimrodel they found a cluster 
of trees, some of which overhung the stream. Legolas walked up to one 
very large tree and touched it reverently. "I will climb up for I, at 
least, am at home among trees. However, I have never climbed in one of 
these mellyrn trees."

The Elf sprang lightly upward and grasped a branch that grew high 
above his head; however, he let go and dropped quickly back onto the 
ground when a voice spoke suddenly in a commanding tone: "Daro!"

Only Boromir did not look disconcerted by the disembodied voice coming 
from the shadow of the trees about them, for he recognized the Elven 
voice. "Stand still," said Legolas in a hushed tone. "Do not move or 
speak!"

There was the sound of silvery laughter from high above their heads. 
Legolas looked over at Boromir, who was shaking his head and laughing 
quietly. The Elf frowned but remained silent. He jumped backward as a 
silver-gray rope ladder curled downward from the shadows above. It 
glimmered slightly in the moonlight. The Elven voice broke the silence 
again and Legolas translated. "They are Elves of Lothlorien and they 
say that we are so noisy they could shoot us in the dark. But they 
seem to know something about us and have asked that I climb up and 
speak with them."

Legolas started to climb the Elven ladder, but Boromir's sharp words 
stilled him. "If Haldir of Lorien wants to speak with us, let him come 
down. I am not in the mood for his games." Another silvery laugh 
erupted from the boughs above them and a tall Elf moved gracefully 
down the ladder.

"I was wondering when you would finally find your way back," the Elf 
said to Boromir, who looked at him anxiously.

"I hope all is well within the Golden Wood, Haldir of Lorien," Boromir 
said formally.

Haldir frowned and glanced about at the rest of the Fellowship. "You 
come none too soon, but we shall not speak of that now. The Lady told 
us you would be arriving; we have looked for your coming for several 
days. I worried that some evil had befallen you on your journey." 
Haldir looked about him, then froze, seemingly startled. He looked 
questioningly at Aragorn, who gave his head a minute shake. Haldir 
turned to the tree behind him and looked upward to the shadows. He 
spoke a few words in the Silvan dialect and was answered in kind.

Aragorn turned to his companions. "Frodo, Sam and Legolas will climb 
up and I will follow. Do not be afraid, for the Elves will not harm 
you." The last he added because both hobbits looked decidedly fearful. 
Legolas scampered up the rope easily and was followed reluctantly by 
Sam and Frodo. Aragorn gripped the rope ladder firmly and began 
climbing.

"Surely they do not intend to leave us alone down here!" Pippin cried. 
"What about the orcs?"

In answer to his question, Elven ladders descended from two other 
trees. "I believe those are for us," said Boromir, walking to the tree 
nearest the one Haldir and the others were in. "Pippin, Merry, if you 
would come here." The two hobbits exchanged worried looks but 
obediently walked to where the man stood. Boromir steadied the ladder 
as the two laboriously climbed upward. Once the ladder became still in 
his hand, he looked at Gimli and nodded his head to the tree where the 
other ladder dangled. "That one, I believe, is meant for us. After 
you, Master Dwarf."

Gimli looked dubiously at the slender ladder and shook his head. "I am 
not a Tree Elf and do not belong up there. I will take my rest down 
here."

"Dig a hole if that is more to your liking, Master Dwarf. But it will 
not hide you from the orcs which, even now, draw near our border." 
Haldir had come up silently behind the dwarf and was now looking down 
at him with an amused expression that belied the seriousness of his 
demeanor. Gimli snorted and looked up at Boromir.

"Are YOU going up, man of Gondor?"

Boromir smiled innocently. "Of course. I have become rather fond of 
sleeping in trees." He and Haldir shared a wicked grin before the man 
began climbing the ladder. Still grumbling, Gimli awkwardly followed.

* * * * * * * *

Boromir and Haldir sat side by side on the wide flet high in one of 
the ancient mallorn trees. Gimli was snoring loudly, despite his 
protests that he would never be able to sleep in a tree. "How is 
Eledwhen?" the man asked.

"She is well enough," Haldir replied noncommittally.

Boromir tried to glean the meaning behind the rather laconic answer, 
but gave up since he could see almost nothing of the Elf's face in the 
gloom. "And the child?"

Haldir sighed. "I think it is best that you speak with the Princess. I 
do not like to speak for others."

The man gripped the Elf's arm roughly. Haldir winced painfully at the 
contact but did not attempt to remove the other's hand. "If my son is 
dead you must tell me. It will give me time to prepare myself before 
reaching your city."

Haldir drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I am sorry, but 
your wife miscarried two nights ago. The Lord and Lady could do 
nothing to prevent it. I am sorry, truly." The Elf heard what sounded 
like a strangled sob. He turned to look back toward Caras Galadon, 
allowing the man some privacy.

"I know this is a difficult thing to bear, but you are both still 
young enough to conceive more children. The Lady Galadriel says that 
the Princess has suffered no permanent injury, so there is no reason 
why she cannot yet bear you a son."

Boromir clasped the Elf's shoulder as though to say "thank you" and 
moved to the edge of the flet. He became aware that the dwarf was no 
longer snoring. If he is not asleep, then he has heard all that was 
said. No matter, for he will hear it soon enough. I should have ridden 
straight to Lorien instead of accompanying the Fellowship. But if I 
had, one of the Halflings might have died in Moria. It seems that I am 
cursed. Boromir pulled his cloak tightly about him to ward off the 
chill wind. He spent the rest of the night planning how best to help 
Eledwhen deal with the tragedy of losing their child. Haldir was 
right. He could father another son, but the loss would be devastating 
for Eledwhen.

* * * * * * * * *

Haldir and his brother, Rumil, lead the Company to Caras Galadon. It 
took a full day, at the end of which Boromir's nerves were strained 
thin. Haldir finally lead the Company up to a high flet within a 
circle of white trees and bid them look South. All were able to see a 
hill of many mighty trees; it appeared to be a city of green towers. 
"Caras Galadon," said Boromir, letting out a long breath. "Finally."

Haldir smiled gently. "Not yet. It will be nightfall ere we reach my 
city. Be patient." A look of pity momentarily crossed the Elf's fair 
face; he turned and began the climb back down the rope ladder. Aragorn 
clasped Boromir's shoulder gently before following the Elf.

Gimli paused before following the others and turned to face the 
Gondorian. "Sometimes bad things happen and we cannot see the reason 
for it. I hope you find your wife well." The dwarf seemed suddenly 
embarrassed and hastened down the ladder. I knew he wasn't asleep, 
Boromir thought wryly. Now everybody probably knows my business. Tears 
sprang to his eyes and he dashed them away with the back of a gloved 
hand before beginning his descent.

* * * * * * * * *

Night came beneath the trees of Lorien and the Elven guides uncovered 
their silver lamps. Ahead Boromir could make out the high, green walls 
of the Elven city. "Welcome to Caras Galadon," Haldir said for the 
benefit of those who were seeing the city for the first time. "Here 
dwell the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn. However, we cannot 
enter here for the gates do not face the North. We must go round."

The Company walked westward and finally came to a halt before a white 
bridge, beyond which lay the great gates of the city. Boromir placed a 
hand upon Haldir's shoulder and whispered, "I want to see Eledwhen as 
soon as possible." Haldir nodded and led them to the gates, which 
opened as though by magic. At last they reached the lawn of the 
fountain, and the home of the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. A very 
tall Elf appeared by Boromir's side and indicated that the man should 
follow him.

"Where do you suppose he is going?" Merry asked.

"You ask too many questions," Aragorn replied, giving the hobbit a 
stern stare. Silently they followed the path that Boromir had taken 
many times during his stay in Lorien. Merry looked at Boromir's back 
as the man walked away; there were unshed tears in his eyes.

* * * * * * * * *

The tall Elf led Boromir to Eledwhen's room and left as silently as he 
had arrived. The man hesitated, then swept the curtain aside and 
entered. The Princess of Rohan was alone and sleeping. Boromir walked 
quietly to the bed and stood looking down at her still form. She is so 
pale and thin. It's as though I can almost see right through her. He 
pulled a chair to the bedside and sat watching her.

* * * * * * * * *

The Princess of Rohan was dreaming. She was in a slender, gray canoe 
that was moving swiftly down the wide Anduin River. She stared forward 
and saw Boromir in a similar boat with a small child-like creature 
sitting in the prow. Somehow she knew he was a Halfling, perhaps the 
one in Boromir's dream. Eledwhen looked about and saw two more gray 
boats, but the occupants were too shadowy to be seen clearly. She 
caught up to Boromir's boat and studied the man intently. Something 
was wrong with him; she could tell by the haunted look on his face and 
the shivers that gripped him from time to time. His eyes kept shifting 
to the boat directly in front of his, which was being steered by a 
dark-featured man. Two more Halflings were huddled in its prow.

As Eledwhen watched, Boromir rowed his boat forward until it was 
almost touching the stern of the boat in front of it. He peered 
anxiously at one of the small creatures. Eledwhen did not like the 
feverish look in his eyes. "Boromir!" she cried, reaching toward his 
boat. Almost immediately the scene changed and she was standing in a 
grassy place ringed by Rowan trees. In the midst was a wide, flat 
stone; upon it sat the small Halfling from the boat. As the Princess 
studied the Halfling, Boromir stepped out of the woods; he stood 
motionless, staring at the creature on the stone. They began speaking 
to one another but Eledwhen could not hear the words. As the 
conversation progressed, Boromir became highly agitated and the 
Halfling began to back away from him. She watched the man she loved 
lunge at the other, knocking it to the ground; he seemed to be trying 
to take something that hung on a slender chain about the small 
creature's neck. As she watched the struggle, the Halfling suddenly 
disappeared. She knew Boromir had seen it, too, because he looked 
incredibly startled and bewildered.

The scene shifted again and the Princess heard the desperate call of a 
horn. Boromir stood in a little glade and watched grimly as an army of 
orcs and large Uruks rushed toward him. Behind him stood two very 
frightened Halflings. Almost too terrified to breathe, Eledwhen 
watched her husband fight desperately, stopping only to put the Horn 
of Gondor to his lips and blow deep-throated calls for help. No help 
came, however, and Boromir once more began meeting the steel of the 
orcs' weapons with the steel of his great sword.

Eledwhen knew the situation was hopeless unless the companions she had 
seen in the boats came to Boromir's aid. Her visions either came to 
pass, or they did not; either way, there was nothing she could do to 
change the outcome. The first orc arrow struck Boromir's body, 
throwing him backward against a large tree. The arrow was followed by 
many more. Eledwhen screamed repeatedly until the vision faded.

The world about the Princess brightened once more as a gray day upon 
the plains of Rohan unfolded before her. She looked about and saw many 
Rohirrim warriors fighting desperately against overwhelming odds. 
Thousands of orcs and Uruks -- many wearing the symbol of the White 
Hand -- hurled themselves madly against the shieldwall defense. The 
Rohirrim had tightly closed ranks and were using their shields as 
protection from the seemingly endless barrage of arrows.

On a knoll not far from the battle, but near the Fords of Isen, stood 
her brother, Theodred. He was in deep conversation with Grimbold and 
Elfhelm. Nowhere did she see Eomer. Eledwhen watched as the largest of 
the Uruks began attacking her brother's position atop the knoll. The 
creatures seemed to multiply in numbers as the Rohirrim desperately 
killed them. Silently she prayed that Theodred would sound the 
retreat, but knew he would not. She began to cry when her brother 
entered the fray. Even though she marveled at how effortlessly he slew 
the mighty creatures, she knew his doom was sealed.

The world about her seemed to slow in time as a huge Uruk captain made 
his way past Theodred's personal guard and attacked him. Another great 
Uruk managed to fight its way through the line of Rohan's best 
warriors and slammed into Theodred from the side. The Prince tried to 
keep his balance and thrust his sword into the Uruk in front of him, 
but a third creature hit him from the other side and pinned him. The 
large Uruk captain grinned horribly as he raised his scimitar for the 
killing stroke. Eledwhen screamed again and again until her throat was 
too raw to make any more sounds. Slowly, she was enveloped by 
blackness.

* * * * * * * * *

Eledwhen could hear a man's voice over the sound of her terrified 
screams. She opened her eyes and thought she must be dreaming for 
Boromir was bending over her. He was extremely pale and she could 
plainly see worry lines etched into his brow. The Princess stopped 
screaming and tentatively touched the man's face. His flesh felt solid 
beneath her fingertips.

"Boromir. You're alive! Where is my brother?" Overwhelmed with relief, 
Eledwhen threw herself into his arms. The man held her tightly, 
wondering what she had seen that had terrified her so. A female Elf 
hurried in, saw the two wrapped in each other's arms, and raised a 
questioning eyebrow. Boromir dismissed her with a wave of a hand 
clasped behind Eledwhen's back. The Elf bowed and withdrew silently.

"It's alright. I am safe. 'Twas only a bad dream." Boromir gently 
stroked Eledwhen's long, golden hair as she clung desperately to him. 
Her voice was muffled against his chest when she finally spoke.

"It was so real. The orcs killed you! And Theodred… I saw his death 
upon the plains of Rohan. I could not live if you both should die. 
Please, do not leave me again." Boromir tightened his grip about her 
body and began to gently rock her. When she felt much calmer and in 
control of her emotions, Eledwhen pulled back until she could see his 
face.

"You see?" Boromir said with the hint of a smile, "I am no dream 
vision, but flesh and blood. The orcs did not kill me, and I am sure 
your brother lives as well. The news of death I bring is of Gandalf 
the Grey, who fell in the mines of Moria."

Eledwhen looked at him in confusion. There had been no wizard in her 
dreams. She started to speak, but Boromir silenced her with a deep 
kiss. Eagerly she returned his kiss until both had to break apart for 
want of air. The man's smile faded as he remembered that she was 
recuperating from the loss of their unborn child.

"Eledwhen, are you well? I know about the child." The girl began to 
cry and he hugged her to his breast. "Shush, dear heart. It is not the 
end of the world. There is still time for us to have children. This 
one was just not meant to be."

The Princess shuddered as the image of Boromir riddled with black orc 
arrows again filled her vision. His words seemed like wisdom, but her 
heart told her that his time on Middle-earth was limited to only a few 
short weeks.


----


Chapter 2 
A Brief Respite



This is another Rohan chapter. It takes place before the First Battle 
of the Fords of Isen, before Theodred's death. The events happening in 
this chapter occur about the same time as Boromir's return to Lorien.

A Brief Respite

Eowyn stood alone before the huge double doors that opened into 
Meduseld, the golden hall of Edoras. She was waiting for her brother 
and the Prince to return from battle. Always she stood just so when 
news of the men's imminent return reached the city. The winds sweeping 
wildly across the bare plains of Rohan blew her garments about her 
lithe frame as she stood motionless, staring frantically toward the 
North. Eomer and Theodred had led a host of riders to engage an army 
of orcs and men that had massed at the Fords of Isen.

The reports of their casualties had been grim. Almost half of the 
Rohirrim force had been lost during the battle, and the army of the 
enemy had not been destroyed. Pushed back across the Isen, yes, but 
not destroyed. Such a high price to pay for what surely will be only a 
brief respite, she thought glumly. As Eowyn stared fretfully across 
the rolling grassland, her uncle's chief counselor slithered to her 
side. She cringed inwardly but remained unchanged without.

"You wait in vain for your brother and cousin to return," Grima said. 
His voice held a note of triumph.

Eowyn squared her shoulders and turned to face the man she loathed 
more than any living thing. "They will come. You have not yet 
succeeded in leaving the Mark leaderless."

Grima's mouth twisted into a smirk. "My lady, you wound me deeply. I 
have no desire to see those you love fall in battle. However, my 
scouts say they both met their doom at the hands of the Uruks. Do not 
worry your pretty head, for I will take care of you and attend to all 
your needs."

Eowyn shuddered inwardly at the thought of being alone and at the 
Worm's mercy. "Your spies are wrong! Eomer and Theodred will return! 
And, if they do not, I shall never come to you for comfort. I would 
slay you first."

Grima started to respond, but a loud shout from the door wards drew 
his attention to a host of riders coming swiftly up the rutted road 
toward Edoras. He turned back to Eowyn, but she already was running 
down the steep steps. Go ahead and run, Lady of Rohan; you shall not 
find what you seek. As Grima turned, he caught sight of the door 
warden, Hama. He was watching Wormtongue closely, his hand tightly 
gripping the hilt of his sword. Grima gave him a superior stare before 
walking swiftly into the Golden Hall. He wanted to be with the King 
when news of his son's death came.

* * * * * * * * *

Eowyn watched breathlessly as the soldiers of the Riddermark swept 
toward the city's gates. She could not distinguish one man from 
another, for all were spattered with blood and gore. Vainly she 
searched for the King's banner, for there would she find Prince 
Theodred and, hopefully, her brother.

As the men of the Mark swept past her into the city, she cried out, 
"What news of the Prince? Where is the Lord Theodred?" Only one rider 
responded to her plea. He stood tall in his stirrups and pointed 
toward the rear of the column, then he was gone. Eowyn raced to the 
rear, where the wounded struggled. She stared in horror at the extent 
of the gruesome wounds inflicted upon Rohan's warriors, secretly 
hoping that the most grievously injured would soon find eternal peace. 
The sound of someone shouting her name scattered her thoughts; she 
raised a hand to block the blazing western sun and saw a dirty and 
gore-smeared warrior upon a lame horse. His arms encircled a man she 
did not recognize.

"Eomer!" She shouted, then began racing swiftly toward the two 
figures. When she was but a few feet from her brother she recognized 
the man in his arms. It was Theodred. "How badly is he hurt? Is he 
mortally injured?" Anxiously she stared at the Prince, trying to see 
the wounds beneath his blood-soaked armor.

"I am not dead yet," the Prince answered, his voice little more than a 
whisper. "I know Grima will be sorely disappointed."

Eowyn let her breath out in a rush. If Theodred was still able to joke 
about his condition, then the odds were good he would survive. "I 
shall run ahead and tell the healers to prepare for your coming. 
Eomer, ride as swiftly as your mount can stand." Gathering her long 
skirts up in her hands, Eowyn turned and raced back to the Golden 
Hall. As she entered the great gathering room, she saw two of 
Wormtongue's lackeys. "Tell your master he spoke too soon!" Before 
they could respond, she was moving swiftly toward the wing where the 
healers to the royal family lived and worked. Out of the corner of one 
eye, she saw Grima's men striding rapidly toward the hall of the King.

* * * * * * * * *

"Theodred, hold still! The healer needs to bind your side. You will 
die of infection if you continue to fight his ministrations." Eowyn 
was angry with her cousin because he refused to stay still long enough 
for the healer to tend the deep gash in his side. An orc had speared 
him with enough force to tear through his armor and hauberk. "Eomer, I 
asked you to hold him! Must I do everything myself?"

The Prince winced in pain as his cousin gripped him tightly under the 
armpits and held him steady so the healer could clean the wound. "Are 
you trying to kill me?" Theodred shouted. "That burns like fire! The 
orcs were gentler on the battlefield!"

The healer raised both bushy eyebrows and said dryly, "It would be 
easier to tend an orc! You were very fortunate, my Lord Prince, for 
there is more bruising than actual damage, though you did receive a 
rather nasty gash. However, it does not appear that the blade was 
poisoned and you should heal quickly." Finally finishing his duties, 
the healer bowed respectfully to the three in the room and departed. 
Eowyn sat down gently on the bed.

"Grima told me you were dead, cousin. Eomer as well. You should have 
seen him gloat!" The two men exchanged a surprised glance, which Eowyn 
immediately picked up on. "You know something. Tell me. I am the one 
who is alone and at Wormtongue's mercy, while you both ride to glory 
and honor. I will not be left out of your councils!"

Prince Theodred raised a bloodstained hand and waved it toward a table 
where a pitcher of ale had been placed. "I don't know how much more 
'glory' I can stand. Pour me a glass of ale and Eomer will tell you 
what we discovered at the Fords of Isen."

Eomer chuckled. "Pour me a glass as well, Sister. This will be a 
rather dry tale." Eowyn remained still for a moment, searching her 
brother's grim face for a hint of what they had discovered. However, 
his dirt- and blood-smudged face was unreadable.

Returning to the bed, Eowyn handed a glass to each man before resuming 
her place beside Theodred. His hand was shaking too badly for him to 
raise the glass to his mouth without spilling ale all over the sheets, 
so she grasped his hand and held it steady so that he could drink.

"Bless you, Eowyn. What would I do without you?"

Eowyn smiled at her cousin fondly. "I imagine you'd finally get 
married. You will never be able to take care of yourself. Honestly, 
off the battlefield you men are such babies!"

Caught by surprise, Eomer spit out the ale he had just sipped and 
started laughing. Theodred scowled at him. "Are you now trying to 
drown me, man? Is it not bad enough that you let that stupid Uruk 
skewer me?"

Eomer shook his head ruefully. "I was trying to save my own life. You 
are the older and more experienced warrior; I expected you to save 
me!" Both men began laughing so hard that tears sprang into their 
eyes. Eowyn felt a pang of longing so sharp it hurt. She had always 
felt left out of their lives and wanted badly to share in their 
battles. It isn't fair that I was born a woman! I have the heart of a 
man, though not the strength. Yet I am a shieldmaiden and also deserve 
the right to defend Rohan.

Seeing that the Prince was in pain as the result of his fit of 
laughter, Eowyn shouted: "Both of you stop this banter right now! 
Theodred, you are injuring yourself further. You must lie still. 
Eomer, please tell me what you found upon the battlefield."

Eomer sighed. "We managed to capture one of the Uruks who was wearing 
a helm with the symbol of the white hand upon it. Orcs are such stupid 
creatures. We easily tricked him into telling us whom he served. It's 
what we feared. Saruman has amassed an army, intent upon gaining 
control of the Mark. This Captain Faramir's spies already had 
reported. What we did not know is that Saruman has a spy in Edoras. 
The Uruk did not know his name, but if Wormtongue received information 
that Theodred and I had been killed upon the battlefield, this spy 
cannot have very reliable sources."

"But we do now know that the spy feeds information to Wormtongue, 
which is very interesting," interjected Theodred. "He should not have 
tipped his hand before gaining confirmation of our deaths."

Eowyn closed her eyes, wondering if she should tell them about 
Erkenbrand's suspicions about Grima. "Theodred," she began, but Eomer 
already had launched into another tirade. "We were fortunate the 
entire Rohirrim force was not annihilated! Although Gondor was true to 
its word and sent reinforcements, its soldiers were not permitted to 
pass through the Gap of Rohan. Wormtongue saw to that by convincing 
Theoden King that once Gondor's army was permitted to cross the Mark's 
border, there would no getting rid of the Gondorian soldiers. The 
Prince of Dol Amroth, who rode at the head of the army, was forced to 
remain on Gondor's soil. Theodred, you are the King's son. Can you not 
do something?"

Theodred shook his head but said nothing, for he had become abnormally 
pale and was drenched in sweat. Eowyn placed a wet rag across his brow 
and sighed. "No one with any sense would believe that the Steward has 
designs to conquer Rohan," she said.

Eomer gave her a warning look. "Careful, Sister. You just insulted the 
King of the Mark." Eowyn started to apologize to the Prince, but he 
had fallen asleep. Not wanting to disturb him, she motioned for her 
brother to leave; she would remain by her cousin's side the entire 
night.

* * * * * * * * *  

Eomer went to the great hall where Theoden King held court. It was 
filled with shadows and half-lights; his footsteps rang loudly upon 
the stones that paved the floor, for the hall was eerily silent. As he 
passed the fire burning in the long hearth in the midst of the hall, 
he noticed that those gathered about shot him peculiar looks; some 
made a sign against evil. No one spoke as he proceeded to the dais, 
where the King sat in his large gilded chair, his head bowed.  The 
Third Marshal of the Mark hesitantly cleared his throat and the old 
King looked up.

Theoden's eyes were shedding tears and his flesh was the color of 
death. As he gazed upon his nephew, his expression changed from one of 
despair to one that closely resembled fear. "Are you a ghost?" Theoden 
asked with a voice that trembled. Eomer went down upon one knee before 
his King.

"Nay, my liege, I am no spirit. Nor is your son, Theodred, who even 
now lies within these walls. I know not what Wormtongue may have told 
you, but you see before you the truth. We fought against Saruman's 
forces and persevered, if only for a short time."

Wormtongue came wraithlike from the shadows at the far end of the 
hall. His eyes were flames of anger. "He lies, my lord! Saruman is our 
ally, not our enemy! Do not listen to his words of deceit."

Eomer stood up rapidly and began to draw his sword. Guards loyal to 
Wormtongue appeared swiftly at his side, their weapons already drawn. 
Eomer froze and turned to face Theoden. "Will you allow this commoner 
to spill royal blood in your presence? I have been loyal to you all my 
life and loved you as a father since the day Eowyn and I came to live 
in Edoras… under your protection and guardianship. Do you now rescind 
the promise you made to my father upon his deathbed?"

Theoden King lifted ancient eyes and looked solemnly upon the face of 
his kin. "Leave me, nephew. I am tired and weary of duties which tie 
me to this throne. See to my son and tell him that I will come to him 
anon." The guards parted reluctantly to let Eomer pass. He felt 
heartsick at how far his uncle had fallen. Slowly the Third Marshal 
made his way out of the great hall and back to where Theodred lay 
wounded. 

 
------



Chapter Three
Love In Bloom


Boromir has returned to Lorien. He and Eledwhen are trying to deal 
with the loss of their unborn child. The Fellowship stayed in Lorien 
about a month, if I figure out Tolkien's timetable correctly. Our two 
lovebirds make the most of it.

This chapter only is rated "R" for the bedroom scene. This is written 
for Undomiel, who wants SEX.

 

Love In Bloom

Eledwhen awoke at the first touch of sunlight streaming through the 
slight separation between curtain and tree. She was lying on her left 
side, facing the open side of the flet abutting the great tree that 
wound its way gracefully through the entire home of the Lord and Lady 
of the Golden Wood. She rolled onto her back and felt something solid 
beside her. Frowning, the Princess turned her head and saw Boromir; 
she had nearly forgotten the man's arrival the previous evening.

"Are you a dream?" she asked softly, her face close to his.

"Go away, I'm sleeping," he muttered thickly, refusing to open his 
eyes. "Do you know how long it has been since I slept in a bed? Leave 
me be, girl."

Eledwhen twined a lock of her golden tresses about one finger and 
began stroking Boromir's unshaven cheek. He reached up as though to 
swat away her hand, but instead grasped it and pulled her tightly 
against his naked body. "Go back to sleep," he growled. "I am not 
ready to get up. I haven't had a decent night's sleep since we left 
Imladris."

Eledwhen laughed and snuggled closely against him. "You may say you 
are not ready to rise, but at least a part of you is already up, my 
lord husband." Boromir opened one eye and feigned indignation.

"What happened to the reticent young maid I brought to Lorien only a 
few months ago? I believe this wanton woman I see before me has 
replaced her." Eledwhen moved a hand slowly down his chest, tracing 
each battle scar as she did so.

"She is still young, though no longer reticent or a maid. I am the 
woman you made me. Are you not pleased with your handiwork?" Her smile 
was coy.

"Yes," he growled, placing his arms about her and kissing her full 
lips. Eledwhen felt familiar stirrings in her most intimate place and 
wanted to continue their foreplay to its natural conclusion; however, 
she knew they were not supposed to because of the miscarriage.

"Boromir, please wait," she murmured. Boromir, however, ignored 
Eledwhen's words and instead slid his tongue into her mouth while 
pushing her onto her back. Eledwhen could feel his need and did not 
wish to deny him, but the Lady Galadriel had been firm about what she 
and Boromir could and could not do in the bedroom. Gently she pushed 
against his shoulders. "Boromir, we must stop. It is too soon for me … 
the loss of the baby."

Boromir felt as though a bucket of ice-cold water had been poured over 
his head. He moved from atop Eledwhen and flopped onto his back. His 
breathing was hard and fast, and he lay staring upward for several 
moments. "There are other ways of expressing our love," he finally 
said. "I did not teach you these things because we had so short a time 
together before I left for Imladris. And, too, you were not … 
indisposed."

Eledwhen propped herself up upon an elbow and looked at him 
innocently. "You mean, there is another way that I can please you?"

Boromir laughed and reached to push back a lock of hair that had 
fallen across her face. "Oh, yes, there are many ways in which we can 
share pleasure and not risk injuring you. Would you like me to show 
you?" Eledwhen laughed throatily and began caressing her husband's 
face. Boromir placed his large hand over her smaller and much more 
delicate hand; gently, but firmly, he began guiding it down the length 
of his body, watching her face closely for signs of shock or fear. As 
their hands reached the area directly above his groin, Eledwhen's eyes 
became wide but she did not protest. Boromir slid an arm about her 
neck, pulled her to him for a deep and probing kiss, and continued her 
exploration of his body.

When Eledwhen had first made love to the man of Gondor, she had been 
surprised at how firm his war-hardened, muscular body was. She eagerly 
had explored every part of it except one, the part she now found her 
hand wrapped about. "What do I do now?" she asked quietly. Boromir 
laughed and began to show her how to stroke the only life-giving part 
of his being. The rest of him was used to kill and maim. This was one 
reason he enjoyed the time he spent making love to a woman; it felt so 
good to use his body for pleasure instead of pain. As Eledwhen 
mastered the rhythm that would bring him to completion, Boromir lay 
back and closed his eyes. He was so lost in the incredible sensation 
that at first he did not notice the gentle flick of a tongue about his 
manhood. Then, realizing what his wife was doing, he pushed himself up 
upon both elbows and watched her incredulously.

"Where on earth did you get the idea to do that?" he groaned.

Eledwhen raised her head, a look of concern on her face. "Does this 
not please you, husband? Is this wrong?"

Boromir shook his head. "Yes, I mean, no. I mean yes, it pleases me 
and no, it is not wrong. I just wonder how you know how to do … THAT!"

Eledwhen smiled mischievously. "I saw two Elves making love in the 
forest. This seemed to be something that was extremely pleasurable for 
the male. Is it not pleasurable?"

"Oh, Valar, yes! Please, continue." Eledwhen smiled and resumed her 
lessons.

* * * * * * * * *

It was two days before the Steward's heir and his wife joined the 
Fellowship upon the lawn of the fountain. Aragorn was sitting beneath 
a large mallorn, listening to a lament for the fallen Gandalf. His 
eyes were closed. As Boromir and Eledwhen approached, Aragorn opened 
his eyes and beheld the Princess of Rohan for the first time. At first 
he thought he was seeing Galadriel, for Eledwhen glittered like gold 
in the sunlight, far more beautiful than any mortal could ever be. As 
his eyes adjusted to the bright light behind her, Aragorn realized he 
was looking upon the Lady's granddaughter … and Boromir's wife. 
Swiftly he rose to his feet and bowed deeply.

"My lady, I am honored to finally meet you. I hope you are well."

Eledwhen looked questioningly up at her husband. "Eledwhen, allow me 
to introduce you to Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and Isildur's long-lost 
heir." The man's tone of voice was hard to decipher, yet she discerned 
that he was none too happy about an heir to the throne of Gondor 
showing up in his lifetime. Still, she knew Boromir held a grudging 
admiration for the man and she smiled warmly at him.

"I am well enough. I thank you for your concern. My husband has told 
me of the loss of your dear friend, Mithrandir. Is the song I hear now 
about that loss? It is such a mournful tune." Aragorn's smile melted 
and Eledwhen felt an intense stab of pain. She knew that its source 
was the Ranger standing before her. "I am sorry. I did not mean to 
upset you. The two of you must have been very dear friends. I am very 
sorry for your loss. It seems we share a common bond."

Aragorn's head snapped upward, and he looked uncomfortable. "My 
apologies. I did not mean to burden you with my sorrow. I know you 
have suffered a grievous loss yourself. Please, do not concern 
yourself on my account."

Boromir stood by Eledwhen's side and watched the exchange between his 
wife and the man who was destined to rule Gondor in his place. He did 
not like the idea of their becoming too friendly. Wanting to end the 
conversation, Boromir placed his arm firmly beneath Eledwhen's elbow, 
muttered something to Aragorn about his wife needing to meet other 
members of the Fellowship, and steered her toward the hobbits. The 
Ranger looked after him, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I do believe the Steward's son is jealous of you." Legolas was 
standing beside the Ranger, an amused expression on his fair Elven 
face.

"Say, rather, that he is extremely possessive of his new wife. In his 
place, I would be much the same." Aragorn thumped the Prince of 
Mirkwood soundly upon the back before moving away to speak with Gimli. 
He wanted to know how the dwarf was holding up. All the members of the 
Fellowship, except Boromir, were grieving for Gandalf. Aragorn was not 
surprised that the man of Gondor had shed no tears for the Istar. He 
was, after all, Denethor's son. The Steward held no love for wizards 
and had seemingly passed his prejudices on to his heir.

Aragorn watched in amusement as Boromir gravely introduced the 
diminutive hobbits to the Princess. Each seemed bowled over by her 
beauty and charm. She may be more of a match for him than he knows, 
Aragorn thought. Chuckling to himself, he moved to Gimli's side.

"Now how do you suppose that big ox managed to win over the fair 
Rohirrim Princess?" Gimli was staring at the couple, thoughtfully 
stroking his beard. "I daresay that, except for your Evenstar and the 
Lady Galadriel, she is the most beautiful female in Middle-earth."

Aragorn smiled at the dwarf, obviously amused by his comments. "Yes, 
she is beautiful. She takes after her mother, the Lady Elanor, who was 
Queen of Rohan and daughter of the Lord and Lady of Dwimordene." The 
Ranger laughed at Gimli's surprised reaction, then sobered as his gaze 
returned to Eledwhen. "I do not like that he intends to have her 
accompany the Fellowship when it leaves Lorien."

Gimli made a noise akin to a snort and tore his gaze from the 
Princess. He stared incredulously up at the tall Ranger. "Surely, you 
jest! Both Saruman and the Dark Lord hunt us. It is too dangerous a 
road for the hobbits, much less for a girl of her tender years. 
Whatever could he be thinking?"

Aragorn shook his head sadly. "That he wants her by his side when he 
returns to Minas Tirith. I believe he has given up hope that Sauron 
can be defeated and fears that his doom is at hand. I cannot blame him 
for wanting to spend as much time as he can with his wife." Again the 
dwarf made a noise resembling a snort.

"She would be safer in the Golden Wood than in the White City. And 
certainly safer here than on the road where all the orcs of Mordor and 
Isengard seek us. Perhaps I should give him a piece of my mind."

Aragorn smiled at Gimli fondly. "I do not think he wants a piece of 
your mind. Yet you are correct about the danger to her person. While 
in Rivendell, Boromir was very attentive to my betrothed; perhaps I 
shall return the favor."

* * * * * * * * *

Eledwhen was walking in the woods surrounding Caras Galadon. She was 
alone because Boromir had been summoned to a meeting with her 
grandparents. Although he did not want to go, she managed to convince 
him that he should do so to keep peace within the family. She laughed, 
remembering the look on his face when the reality of his kinship to 
the Elves had sunk in.

"It is good to hear you laugh, your highness." Eledwhen stiffened and 
turned about sharply to face the owner of the voice. She was surprised 
to see Aragorn.

"Are you following me, heir of Isildur?" The man smiled good-naturedly 
and pushed away from the mallorn that his back had been resting upon.

"You are perceptive," he replied lightly. "Haldir told me that you 
have many unusual qualities, including the gift of foresight."

Eledwhen looked searchingly into his gray eyes. "Do you doubt his 
words? Or do you follow me because you wish to know your future? 
Boromir has said that you will be King of Gondor. He is very bitter. I 
am certain you can understand why."

Aragorn nodded. "This I know. I have been unable to make him see how 
important he will be to me once…"

"You usurp his father's reign? Do you truly believe the Steward of 
Gondor will welcome you to his city with open arms?"

"More likely he will greet me with a knife in the back," he muttered.

"You know Denethor very well, then." Something in the girl's tone 
caused Aragorn to wonder if something had happened in Minas Tirith 
between Denethor and his son's betrothed.

"You do not seem very fond of him," he began cautiously.

"My, how perceptive you are," she responded bitterly.

"I do not wish to pry, but I know the Lord Denethor very well. If you 
need someone to confide in, you will find me an excellent listener." 
Eledwhen studied the man thoughtfully. He maintained an unassuming 
attitude, but she knew this outward appearance was nothing more than a 
ruse to hide his true nature. In fact, he seemed to be very adept at 
hiding who, and what, he really was.

"So, future King of Gondor, you would counsel me to disclose all my 
dark secrets to you. To air the Steward's dirty laundry, so to speak."

Aragorn lowered his head and seemed to study the ground. "Does the 
Steward have dirty laundry that needs airing?" he asked quietly.

"Either you have spoken with Haldir, or my grandmother has been 
telling tales out of turn. Either you know what happened in Minas 
Tirith, and you play with me, or you seek to gain some knowledge that 
will be helpful to you when the time comes to wrestle control of 
Gondor from the ruling Steward. I perceive that you are much more of a 
politician than Boromir believes. Plus I see that you are no man's 
fool. I believe you shall best Denethor, when the time comes. I only 
hope that I am there to witness his downfall."

Aragorn saw that there were tears in her eyes. "Why do you hate 
Boromir's father so much? Haldir is very loyal to you and would say 
naught. I swear that I have no knowledge of what happened to make you 
leave the White City. I know only that Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn 
are determined that you never return there. I once served your 
grandfather. I like to think he trusted me with his life. Will the 
daughter of his son trust Thorongil as well?"

Eledwhen looked startled. "You cannot possibly be Thorongil. He would 
be a very old man, if he lived at all. You look as though you have 
seen no more than 40 summers, which would make you the same age as my 
husband. You DO play games with me." As the Princess turned to leave, 
Aragorn moved rapidly to her side and caught her arm.

"Boromir and I had much this same conversation in Rivendell. I told 
him then, and I will tell you now, that I am nearly 87 years old. You 
have Elven blood in your veins. Can you not feel in me a kindred 
spirit? Though I be mortal, I am betrothed to Arwen Undomiel. 
Galadriel is her grandmother, as well as yours. Will you open your 
heart to me and tell me why you hate Gondor's Steward?"

A light like fire blazed in Eledwhen's eyes, and her hands clenched so 
tightly that her nails drew blood. Her entire body began to shake. 
When she spoke, her answer was more a cry than words. "He is a 
monster! In the light of day he pretends to be noble and a great 
leader. But in the dark, behind bolted doors, he dishonors innocent 
maids. I would see you slay him before I would see you make him your 
Steward." 

Aragorn moved his arm to encircle Eledwhen's waist as she began to 
crumble to the ground. The Princess was sobbing like a lost child. 
Suddenly angry because of the restraining arm, she struggled to pull 
away. "Let me go! I do not need your help. Leave me alone!" Aragorn 
ignored her protests, concerned that she may fall and injure herself. 
As he gently tried to ease her onto the ground, Boromir appeared with 
his sword in hand. He looked extremely dangerous.

"Remove your hands from my wife or I shall slay you like the dog that 
you are!" Aragorn turned, startled, by the fierce anger in the man's 
voice. Then, realizing how the scene must appear to Boromir, he 
immediately released Eledwhen and backed away, his hands out to the 
side. Eledwhen sank slowly to the ground, covered her face with her 
hands and continued to weep. Aragorn cleared his throat nervously, 
keeping his eyes upon the other man's hands.

"My intent was not to harm your lady, but to help her. As you can see, 
she is not well." Boromir motioned with his sword for Aragorn to step 
away from his wife. Keeping one eye on the Ranger, he moved to her 
side.

"Did he harm you?" Boromir asked, his voice gruff with emotion. He was 
standing protectively between Eledwhen and the other man, poised for 
attack should she answer in the affirmative. Aragorn's hand strayed to 
his weapon; he held his breath and waited for the girl to speak.

As the moments dragged on, and the Princess still continued to weep 
uncontrollably, Boromir became highly agitated. He was uncertain about 
what had occurred, felt as though he should do something, but was 
unsure as to what that something should be. The tension finally was 
broken by the timely arrival of the Lady Galadriel.

The Elven Queen looked closely at Boromir, who stood indecisively 
beside her granddaughter, and then at Aragorn, who stood defensively a 
few feet away, one hand upon his sword hilt. She let out a loud sigh. 
"I want you both to leave, separately, before this situation gets out 
of hand. Please remember, Lord Boromir, that you are a guest in my 
kingdom and, as such, are required to conduct yourself in a reasonable 
manner. Violence will not be tolerated within my realm!"

Boromir looked both angry and helpless at the same time. "I must see 
to my wife," he began, but Galadriel cut him off with sharp words.

"I shall take care of my granddaughter. You may go anyplace you like 
as long as you do not start a fight with the Lord Aragorn, who is 
destined to marry into the family. I demand you remember that and act 
accordingly." She then turned her fierce gaze upon the Ranger. "I 
think, perhaps, you should rejoin your friends."

Aragorn looked uncomfortable beneath her steely gaze yet felt the need 
to defend his actions. "I was trying to help. She swooned and I only 
wished to keep her from falling." His gaze shifted to Boromir, who was 
staring at him through narrowed eyes.

"Both of you leave now! I shall not ask politely again." Galadriel 
glared warningly at both men, who bowed respectfully and left in 
opposite directions. The Elf shook her head and spoke aloud. "The 
world is doomed if they cannot learn to get along." Sighing, Galadriel 
turned her attentions to her granddaughter.


-----



Chapter Four
The Plot Thickens




The Power of Love

By Adara

 

It has been a long time since I revisited Minas Tirith and played with 
its problems. This chapter is for readers who love Faramir and Prince 
Imrahil. Isabeau, are you out there? The second part of the chapter 
returns the reader to Lórien. Boromir finally learns the truth about 
the rape of his wife.

 

The Plot Thickens

Faramir was standing at the study window watching his uncle stride 
across the Citadel courtyard. The Acting Steward deduced from the 
man's walk that he was extremely angry. Slowly he turned and moved to 
the large desk, where a dispatch lay unrolled, its edges well worn 
from much handling. Sighing, Faramir sank into the oversized chair and 
ran his hands through his thick hair. What a waste of time and 
resources, he thought. And what in the name of the Valar is going on 
in Rohan? He lowered his face into his hands, fingers slightly parted, 
and read for the twentieth time the dispatch from the Prince of Dol 
Amroth.

"…we were met by men bearing the King of Rohan's standard, though they 
looked to be no more than common horse thieves. Still, the order they 
handed me bore the King's seal and I deemed that seal to be genuine. 
However, the scrawl of the text was definitely not that of Théoden, 
although his signature at the bottom of the page could not be 
disputed. I will spare you the details and get straight to the heart 
of the matter. We were informed that under no circumstances were 
soldiers of Gondor to enter the realm of the Rohirrim, and that any 
man who dared to disobey would be summarily executed…"

The opening of the study door and the subsequent entrance of Prince 
Imrahil interrupted Faramir's reading. He closed his eyes, squared his 
shoulders and steeled himself for more bad news.

"I see you have read my dispatch." Imrahil obviously was not in the 
mood for small talk. He stood stiffly before Denethor's desk, slapping 
a gauntlet against his right thigh. Faramir suppressed a deep sigh and 
looked up at his uncle.

"Aye, I have read it… many times. I do not understand why Prince 
Théodred asked for our help, knowing that his father would refuse to 
allow our troops onto Rohirrim soil. Please, Uncle, help yourself to 
some claret and then be seated. I would call for the boy to serve you, 
but I sent him on an errand to the second circle half an hour ago." He 
watched Imrahil closely as the man strode to a side table where a 
decanter and glasses had been set out. Faramir smiled at the rather 
generous portion of stout wine that was splashed into the glass. 
Imrahil turned and caught his nephew's look.

"It was a long and thirsty ride," he said dryly.

Faramir's smile widened. "I made no comment." The Prince gave a soft 
snort and took a long drink, nearly draining the glass. After 
refilling it, he crossed to the chair in front of the desk and sat 
down. Imrahil stretched his stiff legs out in front of him and swirled 
the dark red liquid around the sides of the glass. Long minutes passed 
ere he spoke.

"I perceive the hand of Grima Wormtongue behind this debacle. Though 
the King signed the order and set his seal to it, he was not the 
author. Tell me, Faramir, you met with Prince Théodred in Ithilien. 
Why would the King of Rohan listen to the ranting of a commoner? What 
power does this man possess that he is able to turn the King against 
his own flesh and blood? If it is true that Saruman is the master and 
Wormtongue the servant, I fear for Rohan if Théodred and his cousin, 
Éomer, do not act soon to remove this threat. It is like a cancer 
eating at the very heart of the kingdom."

Faramir sighed aloud and began to roll a writing quill across the by 
now wrinkled piece of parchment containing the words that had spurred 
his uncle into this quiet rage. "What would you have me do, Uncle? I 
cannot send an assassin to rid the King of his chief counselor. It 
would be an open act of war."

Imrahil leaned forward in his chair. "Believe me, Nephew. No one will 
press for war once this cancer has been cut out." Faramir lifted his 
head to meet his uncle's sea-gray eyes.

"And what if you are wrong?" he asked softly.

"Then we have declared war upon the horse-lords and only the Valar 
would be able to help us, for we cannot fight both Mordor and Rohan. 
Sauron knows this as well as does Saruman. Sauron failed to destroy 
Minas Tirith from within and may now hope to weaken us by forcing us 
to fight on two fronts. As much as I hate to admit it, such a plan 
would be successful. I shudder to think what will happen if Saruman 
and the Dark Lord are working together toward our destruction. Gondor 
cannot prevail without the aid of Rohan; therefore, we must send 
someone to speak secretly with Théodred. Again."

Faramir realized that Imrahil's intense gaze was meant to relay a 
meaning. "Do not look at me, Uncle. The Prince almost ran me through 
in this very study. Why should he listen to anything I have to say?" 
Imrahil laughed mirthlessly.

"Because he knows you to be an honest man. The two of you got along 
famously in Ithilien. He desperately wants our help. His country is on 
the brink of internal strife, even as was ours."

"Can he not have Théoden declared unfit to rule and become Acting King 
until Wormtongue can be dealt with? Would the people not follow him?"

Imrahil shook his head and took another long drink from his glass. 
"Nay. He would not live to see another sunrise. There are men in 
Edoras whose loyalty has been paid for by Wormtongue. You may be 
Théodred's only hope."

Faramir shoved his chair away from the desk and stood up. "I cannot 
leave Minas Tirith without a Steward, not for any length of time. And 
should I leave again, Father would assume the mantle of the 
Stewardship. Do you believe he is ready for such a trial?"

Prince Imrahil stared thoughtfully into his empty glass. His long, 
graceful fingers traced the pattern of the white tree etched upon one 
side. "I believe that Denethor can be trusted at Gondor's helm, but 
ONLY if he has at least one son by his side. His mental state is not 
yet strong enough to allow him to rule alone. I fear that without his 
sons as an anchor, Denethor once more will fall under the influence of 
the Dark Lord."

Faramir nodded, walked to the window and gazed upon the White City. "I 
cannot risk losing Gondor by leaving it rudderless." After a moment's 
silence, he suddenly began laughing. "Father was none too happy that 
you were able to convince the Council that we three should share 
power, with you and I having the majority vote in all matters."

Imrahil gave his nephew a sideways look. "I do not see how you can 
find humor in the fact that Denethor accused me of having Mithrandir 
put a spell upon you. He nearly called me out!"

Faramir shrugged. "He never would have followed through. It would not 
have been a wise political move and Father does nothing without first 
considering the political ramifications. The fact that he lost control 
of himself in public tells me that he has not shaken off the effects 
of the palantír."

Imrahil nodded thoughtfully. "Then we are in agreement that you will 
remain here. Who, then, shall we send to speak with the Prince of the 
Mark?"

Faramir gave his uncle a wicked grin. "I rather hoped that the Prince 
of Dol Amroth would assume this mission. You saved Prince Théodred 
when he was imprisoned and beaten. Whom would he trust more?"

Imrahil stood up rapidly, placed the glass upon the desk and began 
shaking his head. "Oh, no, boy! I am needed here. I cannot go 
gallivanting about Rohan playing at being a spy. If you can think of 
no one more suitable, the Rohirrim will have to sort out their own 
problems. Even as we have."

Faramir's mood immediately became grim. He nodded gravely and turned 
once more to gaze out the window. "I wonder where Boromir is? Do you 
suppose he and Eledwhen reached Imladris safely? Do you think they are 
married?" Imrahil moved to stand beside his nephew. Gently he placed a 
hand upon the younger man's shoulder.

"I think it is the answer to the last question that is uppermost on 
your mind. Do you still love the Princess of Rohan?" Faramir looked at 
his uncle guiltily.

"I did not realize it was that obvious. I told Théodred, but no one 
else. I keep forgetting the rumors of Elves in your woodpile. And the 
answer to your question is, yes, I fell in love with Eledwhen, but she 
is pledged to my brother and even now may be his wife. I wonder, 
though, if she has told Boromir the identity of the man who attacked 
her. I am uncertain of what my brother's reaction will be to such a 
revelation. I find it difficult to live and work with the man who 
raped my future sister-in-law. It would be impossible if she were my 
wife."

* * * * * * * * *

Eledwhen cried until she had no more tears left. She and the Lady 
Galadriel were sitting upon the ground in the woods surrounding Caras 
Galadon. Boromir and Aragorn had gone their separate ways, leaving the 
Elven Queen to calm her granddaughter. "What is wrong, child? What did 
those two Men say to upset you so?"

The Princess used the back of her hand to wipe some of the tears from 
her face and hiccuped once or twice before answering. "The Lord 
Aragorn asked me why I hate Gondor's Steward. When I answered, that 
terrible night became so vivid that I started crying. Then I thought 
about losing Boromir's son and I started crying even harder. Then 
Boromir showed up and they started arguing. Aragorn was only trying to 
help me, truly. But Boromir thought I was in danger."

Galadriel sighed. "I am thankful he is protective of you, but he goes 
too far. I cannot have him drawing his sword every time someone in my 
kingdom speaks with you. Honestly, I would have no subjects left!" 
Eledwhen looked wide-eyed at her grandmother, realized that she was 
joking, and burst into a fit of girlish laughter. "That is much 
better. I prefer to hear you laughing than weeping. Come, the hour 
grows late and your grandfather has prepared a feast in the 
Fellowship's honor. They have had a difficult journey. A little 
merriment may not lift the sorrow from their hearts, but it may help 
ease their pain."

Eledwhen sniffled and smiled up at the Lady Galadriel. "Can I wear one 
of those beautiful gowns Argosy made me?"

The Elf lady laughed, relived to see her granddaughter thinking about 
such relatively unimportant things as dresses, just like any teen-age 
girl. "Of course you may, my darling. I think the blue gown with the 
wide sleeves and the long train would be perfect. Let us find your 
maid and see what we can do about your hair. Goodness, it is filled 
with leaves and twigs! This will not do at all." As the two returned 
to the city, melodic laughter filled the winter woods and it seemed 
the sun shone brighter than ever.

* * * * * * * * *

Argosy was putting the finishing touches on Eledwhen's hair when 
Boromir entered the room. His face was clean-shaven and sported a rosy 
glow from the hot water in which he had bathed. "I have never seen you 
look more beautiful," he exclaimed.

Eledwhen jumped up and ran to her husband. She gave him a quick hug, 
released him and then performed a graceful pirouette to show off her 
new gown. "Isn't it wonderful? Argosy made it for me. She is so 
clever. See how the fabric changes colors as I move! Have you ever 
seen anything so… magical!"

Boromir laughed heartily. He was glad to see the Princess in such gay 
spirits. "I see you are looking forward to the feast tonight." 
Eledwhen was positively breathless with enthusiasm. She nodded and 
then returned to sit before the mirror so that Argosy could finish her 
hair. Boromir pulled a chair near the dressing table and watched her. 
Having finally finished fussing over Eledwhen's hair, Argosy declared 
the Princess "the most beautiful half-elf maiden in Middle-earth," 
then left the two alone. Boromir continued to stare at his wife.

"Is something wrong? You look so solemn. Surely you are not still 
angry with me because I spoke to the Lord Aragorn earlier."

"I never was angry with you, dear heart. You may, of course, speak 
with whomever you please. However, the man had no right to put his 
hands on you." Eledwhen stood and moved to kneel in front of her 
husband. She took hold of one of his large hands and held his gray 
eyes with her blue ones.

"He did not try to harm me. I probably would have hurt myself if the 
Lord Aragorn had not supported me. You cannot be jealous of every man 
who has contact with me. Or any Elf, for that matter." Boromir looked 
uncomfortable. "I know that you are more than a wee bit jealous of 
Haldir, but you have no reason to be. He is my dear friend and nothing 
more. It is you I love and your bed that I share. There will never be 
another for me. Do you believe this?"

The man of Gondor smiled affectionately at the young woman and touched 
her golden hair with one finger. "I will never understand what I did 
to deserve such a prize as you. I am the luckiest man in 
Middle-earth."

* * * * * * * * *

The lawn about the fountain glittered from the light of a thousand 
silver lanterns. Many of them had been placed creatively in the huge 
mallorns, giving the appearance of stars literally within reach. The 
feast was well under way when Eledwhen and Boromir made their 
appearance. Both were dressed in the finest raiment Lothlórien had to 
offer. Boromir looked very kingly and the Princess, whose hand rested 
lightly upon her husband's arm, looked like a Queen.

Legolas was talking to Haldir when the couple joined the merrymakers. 
His eyes fastened upon Eledwhen and followed her every move. "You look 
like a puppy longing for a bone," the Lórien Elf said teasingly. 
Legolas' eyes narrowed and he turned his head slowly until his hard 
stare fell upon Haldir.

"You know not of what you speak, for I was but admiring the lady's 
charms. Were she completely Elven, I would venture to say that her 
beauty would surpass that of your Galadriel." Now it was Haldir's turn 
to glare.

"There is none in Middle-earth to rival the Lady of the Golden Wood… 
not even her granddaughter. Though, perhaps, I am a bit prejudiced." 
Haldir grinned good-naturedly and turned his gaze onto the figures 
standing a few feet away. "Boromir seems less self-conscious tonight 
than usual."

Legolas laughed musically, turning slowly as he sensed the approach of 
Aragorn. "I heard you and the Steward's son almost came to blows this 
afternoon. Were you trying to entice his wife to run away with a 
Ranger of the North? Or perhaps you thought she would prefer to be 
married to the King of Gondor instead of its Steward's eldest son?"

Aragorn smiled, knowing well that his friend was jesting. "Alas that 
the fair lady only has eyes for our man of Gondor. I suppose I must 
content myself with the evening star, for Boromir has clearly captured 
the sun." The three laughed heartily before turning their attentions 
to more serious considerations, such as the long and dangerous route 
to Mordor that the Fellowship would take after leaving Lothlórien.

Boromir was only half listening to the conversation between Eledwhen 
and the Lady Galadriel. He was more interested in watching Aragorn and 
Haldir, who were speaking with Legolas. His musings about the topic of 
their conversation were broken when his wife gently shook his shoulder 
and inquired whether or not he was ailing. Boromir turned his head in 
time to catch Galadriel's amused grin. Boromir stiffened, drew himself 
up to his full height and excused himself. He swaggered slowly to 
where Aragorn and the two Elves remained deep in conversation. As he 
drew near the group, he heard Aragorn saying, "We may be hampered by 
the presence of a woman. I only hope we are not forced to choose 
between her safety and the safety of the ring-bearer."

The last word had barely passed his lips when Aragorn felt the 
presence of the other man. Forcing his features into an unreadable 
mask, the Ranger turned and took a hard blow to the jaw as he did so. 
Haldir and Legolas immediately grabbed hold of Boromir's arms in a 
futile effort to restrain him. Unfortunately, all the raging emotions 
the man had been trying to bury came boiling to the surface. He 
wrenched away from the two Elves and threw himself bodily upon his 
rival. Aragorn, who had just regained his feet and was slightly off 
balance, was hurled against a large mallorn. He grunted as the impact 
of being slammed against the tree knocked the breath out of him.

Frodo was standing about six feet away when he caught sight of the 
attack out of the corner of one eye. Terrified at the unexpected 
assault, he could only shriek, "Strider!" before the much taller Elves 
pushed past him, hurrying to break the two men apart before they 
killed one another. Eledwhen began to move toward the two combatants, 
but her grandmother placed a restraining hand upon her arm and almost 
imperceptibly shook her head. The girl heard words in her head, 
commanding her not to interfere. Eledwhen wordlessly begged her 
grandfather to stop the fight, but Celeborn was watching the two men 
with an enigmatic smile upon his face. She could swear he actually was 
enjoying the sight of one man pummeling another, which made her 
extremely angry. Furious, she jerked her arm from Galadriel's grip and 
stalked to where Boromir lay on his back after having taken a strong 
blow to the left side of his head.

"Stop this, stop this now!" she shouted, hands planted firmly upon her 
hips.

Boromir's response was to growl: "Stay out of this, girl. It is none 
of your affair." Eledwhen could see that her husband definitely "had 
his blood up," as Théodred was fond of saying, and she knew he would 
never listen to a plea for reason. Instead, she shoved him backward 
onto the ground as he tried to rise. Aragorn, who was still slightly 
out of breath from the fight, walked over and extended a hand to help 
Denethor's son regain his feet. Boromir, however, dismissed the offer 
of peace and instead pulled his knife from its sheath and made a 
slashing motion toward Aragorn's extended arm. Only the Ranger's 
incredible reflexes, honed during decades in the wilderness, kept him 
from being cut. As Boromir sprang upward from the ground, Eledwhen 
rushed forward to stand between the two and caught the tip of the 
blade in her upper arm. She was too shocked to scream, but she heard 
loud gasps from the onlookers.

Now it was Haldir's turn to be consumed by a mind-numbing rage. He 
moved more swiftly than the human eye could track, and Boromir was 
astonished to feel the prick of a blade at his throat. "You are as mad 
and as craven as your father," he spat. "The two of you are as 
indistinguishable as two sides of the same coin. If Eledwhen had not 
agreed to wed you, I am certain you would have raped her as well." 
Boromir, who had been mentally organizing a retaliatory attack against 
the Elf, froze as the words slowly sank in.

"What did you say, Elf?" Haldir withdrew his knife from the man's 
throat and repeated the accusation before Eledwhen could stop him. 
Shocked, Boromir turned toward his wife. "What does he mean?" he asked 
through bloodless lips. Eledwhen's eyes welled with tears and she 
began backing away, but not before Boromir read the truth in her 
haunted look. Haldir heard the girl's anguished voice clearly in his 
head: You swore you would never tell anyone! I trusted you and now you 
have betrayed that trust. Horrified by his lack of self-control, 
Haldir moved toward Eledwhen, his eyes pleading for forgiveness.

"This is neither the time nor the place to discuss such a matter!" 
Celeborn roared angrily. "This feast is over. Lord Boromir, I do not 
care where you go, but if I see you again tonight I shall not be 
responsible for my actions." The Elven Lord picked Eledwhen up in his 
arms and carried her toward their home. Galadriel shot Boromir a 
withering look before turning to follow.

Now that the fight was over, the partygoers began to melt into the 
shadows, leaving the members of the Fellowship alone. Boromir heaved a 
broken sob before stumbling into the forest. "Should we go after him?" 
asked Gimli.

Aragorn's voice was infinitely sad. "No, that would not be wise. Leave 
him alone for now. I will seek him out when the time is right. Haldir, 
if you have something to say that concerns what happened to the 
Princess of Rohan during her stay in Minas Tirith, now would be the 
time to say it. There is no longer a need for silence; you already 
have broken your oath."

Haldir looked guiltily about him, his gaze scanning the remaining 
members of the Fellowship. He finally met Aragorn's eyes and motioned 
toward the fountain. "I will reveal the truth to you, but the others 
must leave." Aragorn nodded and looked pointedly at Legolas.

The Wood Elf placed a gentle hand on Pippin's shoulder. "Come, little 
ones. I am afraid that the party is over." Tears splashed down the 
young hobbit's cheeks as he watched Boromir disappear into the woods. 
I should follow him, Pippin thought. He needs a friend. He saved Merry 
and me from the cave troll in Moria. I owe him my life. I, at least, 
will not desert him now. 



-----



Chapter Five
Come What May



Boromir agonizes over the revelation that Denethor raped the Princess 
of Rohan. Dear, sweet Pippin shows up to comfort him. Eledwhen's 
vision covers what Tolkien wrote behind the scenes about Théodred and 
Saruman's plot to get him out of the way. Eledwhen FINALLY tells 
Boromir the whole truth and nothing but the truth about what happened 
in Minas Tirith. I admit that I shamelessly stole the title for this 
chapter from "Moulin Rouge."

 

Come What May

Boromir was standing beside a small pond that shimmered with the light 
of a thousand stars. He remained as still as Bilbo's stone trolls, 
staring sightlessly at his reflected image. His mind, however, was 
working furiously, going over and over the words spoken by Haldir 
earlier in the evening. The still of the night was broken only by the 
man's tormented muttering.

He lies. Such a thing cannot be possible. Though the Lord Celeborn 
hinted as much before I left for Imladris, I assumed he wanted to hurt 
me and so dismissed his words. And I would pay no heed to Haldir's 
words but that the expression on Eledwhen's face confirmed them. I 
expected to find that some enemy had gained access to the Citadel, or 
that someone within had been bribed to harm my future wife to cause 
strife between our two countries. Never did I imagine it might be a 
member of my own family! If this is true, then my father -- nay, the 
Steward of Gondor -- is mad. It is no wonder the Lord and Lady dislike 
me so. How could Eledwhen have come to love me, the son of the man who 
dishonored her, who threatened her brother's life in return for her 
silence? Should I desert the Fellowship and ride as quickly as 
possible to Minas Tirith? And what of Eledwhen? It might not be wise 
to take her home with me. Yet Faramir wrote that he and Uncle Imrahil 
have everything under control. The Valar forgive me for being so blind 
and selfish. How could I not have seen the truth?

Boromir was too deeply in thought to hear Pippin's quiet approach. The 
young hobbit stood a few feet behind the tall man, waiting to be 
noticed. When Boromir continued to be unaware of his presence, Pippin 
cleared his throat and tapped one of his large hobbit's feet upon the 
ground. Boromir's head jerked up sharply and his hand withdrew the 
dagger at his waist as he whirled about to confront a very frightened 
Halfling. Pippin stood frozen, his mouth agape, staring at the long 
dagger still stained with Eledwhen's blood. Recognizing his visitor, 
Boromir relaxed, smiled rather self-deprecatingly and began to sheathe 
the weapon. "Never sneak up on a soldier unless you are prepared for 
the consequences, Master Hobbit. Is there something amiss? You are 
very pale."

Pippin's eyes were locked upon the blade. The blood on it looked black 
in the moonlight, like orc's blood. Boromir frowned at the hobbit's 
expression, then shifted his own gaze to the weapon in his hand. 
Horrified at what he saw, the man dropped the dagger as though it 
burned him. "I am cursed! All I do goes awry! How can I help you and 
your friends when I cannot see what is so plainly beneath my nose and 
help my own wife? You should go and seek more worthy friends." Boromir 
turned as though to leave; Pippin rushed forward, grabbed the large 
man's right leg and began to cry.

"You are wrong! You are not cursed. It is your father who hurt the 
Princess, not you. No one blames you."

Boromir laughed softly and shook his head. "Ah, you have been 
listening to conversations not meant for your ears. If only what you 
say were true, little one; however, I fear I have been tried and found 
guilty. The Elves must love Eledwhen very deeply to have allowed me to 
return. In the Lord Celeborn's place, I would have given orders to 
have me shot on sight." Pippin looked extremely distressed.

"You are not going to leave us, are you? Please say you will continue 
with the Fellowship! We need you… I need you. You are not your father. 
You would never harm anything that could not defend itself. I know you 
are a good man! Please, come with me back to the city. You can sleep 
in me and Merry's room. Everything will be all right. You'll see. 
Please, Boromir."

The man of Gondor looked at the Hobbit's upturned face and read the 
distress so openly displayed upon it. The young creature's eyes were 
wide and pleading. Boromir closed his own eyes and sighed deeply 
before opening them again. Slowly he went down on one knee before 
Pippin. "You are very persuasive, young Halfling. Do you not fear me? 
You saw me fight with your friend, Strider, and cut my wife with this 
very dagger. Am I not despicable in your eyes?"

Pippin lunged forward and attempted to place his arms around the man's 
wide shoulders. Boromir's face registered surprise, then a quiet 
relief. "I will always be your friend." Pippin's voice was muffled 
against the man's chest. "There is nothing you could do to change 
that."

Boromir wrapped his arms about the small hobbit and placed his chin 
atop the curly head. A warning chimed deep within the recesses of his 
brain. The man frowned momentarily, then relaxed as the nagging 
feeling of doom melted away in the warmth of Pippin's love. They 
remained thusly for long moments before Boromir became aware of 
another presence. "Pippin," he began, but became silent as he felt the 
identity of the newcomer. "Pippin, would you leave us alone?"

The hobbit looked up at the man, a frown creasing his smooth features. 
Boromir indicated the presence of Eledwhen with a slight sideways nod 
of his head. Pippin turned and saw the girl standing motionless at the 
edge of the clearing. Quickly he drew away from the man, then bowed 
formerly. "My lady. I was just leaving." Eledwhen smiled kindly at 
Pippin, causing him to blush. He ducked his head and scurried away. 
Boromir tracked the hobbit's progress until he was out of sight. It 
took a lot of willpower for him to look at his wife, then slowly he 
rose and waited for her to speak.

"I am sorry you found out this way, husband. I meant to tell you. I 
tried many times but could not force the words from my mouth. I was 
too ashamed. He is your father. I would not blame you if you hate me, 
for I am not worthy to be your wife." Boromir had been prepared to 
hear many things, but the revelation of her feelings of shame stunned 
him.

"No, it is I who am unworthy of you. It was my duty to ensure your 
safety within Minas Tirith and instead I became drunk, behaved 
shamefully toward you at the feast of our betrothal, and allowed a 
member of my family to harm you. I do not blame you for what happened, 
for you were but a lamb among lions. It was my honor that was lost -- 
an honor I was unable to redeem during our journey. I am sworn to 
protect the innocent and have failed miserably. I would not blame you 
if you hate me and wish to return to Rohan. Our marriage is not 
binding under your law or mine and so I release you from your father's 
promise. You are free to go where you please and do as you please." 
Boromir waited with bowed head for Eledwhen to speak. When she did 
not, he looked up and saw her standing as though frozen, her eyes 
focused upon the gleaming pond. She was as pale as death.

* * * * * * * * *

Eledwhen was soaring far above the Golden Wood, her body weightless on 
a gentle breeze that bore her southward toward Edoras. Home, she 
thought. I am going home. Although it was winter she could not feel 
the icy breath of the Misty Mountains to the west, or the sting of the 
sleet that pelted her as it fell heavily to earth. She felt warm and 
incredibly happy.

As the Princess continued to ride the strong winter wind, the terrain 
flattened into the rolling grasslands of Rohan. Far in the distance, 
beyond the Gap of Rohan and no more than a mere speck on the horizon, 
she could see Edoras and the golden glow of Meduseld. Her heart began 
to beat rapidly at the thought of seeing her brother and father again.

A sudden wild gust of wind swept her westward toward Isengard. No 
longer the gentle breeze that had caressed and cheered her, this wind 
became increasingly violent the nearer it came to the wizard's 
fortress. Upon it rode fell voices that caused tendrils of fear to 
wrap about Eledwhen, numbing her senses. Gradually the sound of the 
voices sharpened into words Eledwhen could understand, and she could 
catch fragments of a conversation. The Prince shall not be as lucky 
the next time, my Uruks will see to that... battle at the Fords of the 
Isen… the Prince dead and the old King firmly under my control… When 
Théoden dies, Rohan will be ours…any prize you desire… I will take 
Éowyn.

"No! They plot to kill my brother… and Éowyn! Surely I hear Gríma's 
voice, but to whom does the other voice belong? I must know more. 
Eledwhen strained to hear the voices again, but they were completely 
drowned out by the rising wind's malevolent hiss. "Please," she cried 
aloud. "Please, I have to know. I have to warn Théodred!" The Princess 
began to believe she would go mad with frustration until a soothing 
voice spoke her name, like a gentle touch upon her mind.

"Do not be afraid, my darling one. I am with you."

Mother, is that you? Have I gone mad, or is this a terrible dream from 
which I shall awake and find those whom I love safe?

"Your brother is safe enough -- for now. But you must know that 
Wormtongue covets your cousin, Éowyn, as well as the throne and the 
power that goes with it. Long he has planned the death of your brother 
and father and, after them, Éomer will die. You must return home 
immediately. Tarry no longer in the Golden Wood. Ride out now with 
your husband, for Boromir is in mortal danger as long as he remains 
with the Fellowship." The wind began to die down and Eledwhen could no 
longer feel her mother's presence.

Mother, please, stay with me, for I cannot deal with such things 
alone. A warm gust of air touched her cheek, as soft as a mother's 
caress.

"I am with you always. Draw what strength you can from this knowledge 
and remember what I have told you. Leave now or it will be too late to 
save your brother."

Eledwhen reached out blindly, wanting desperately to touch her mother, 
but her fingers grasped only cold air. What if I fail? Rohan will fall 
and it will be my fault!

"Failure surely will bring death and despair, but I do not believe 
that such is your destiny. You are much stronger than you know, for 
the blood of your ancestors and mine runs like fire in your veins. 
Speak with Galadriel. My mother will help you, even though she will 
not wish to."

And if I do fail, what then? Eledwhen whispered.

"Come what may, I shall always be with you. Now hurry, for time is 
slipping away and your brother's life hangs but by the finest of 
threads."  

* * * * * * * * *

"Eledwhen. Eledwhen! What do you see? Wake up, girl, please." Boromir 
was definitely out of his depth. He had no idea how to deal with 
someone so completely locked in a vision. He knew how to tend the 
wounded after a battle; he even had experience dealing with men so 
shocked by the horrors of war they became totally unaware of their 
surroundings. Soldiers called these men "the walking dead." Sometimes 
they came back, and sometimes they did not. Eledwhen's vision, 
however, was very elfish and beyond even the experiences he had 
encountered during one of his brother's visions. After 36 years, 
Boromir still was uncertain when Faramir was dreaming. Never had he 
seen his younger brother standing, unaware of his surroundings, his 
eyes wide open and totally blank. Eledwhen's condition was downright 
frightening. Faramir at least had the decency to look as though he was 
asleep!

Not knowing what else to do, Boromir gripped his wife by the 
shoulders, pulled her against him and kissed her. He continued the 
kiss until he felt her respond to the embrace. At first he felt her 
body melt against his, then he felt her hands move over his arms. He 
pulled back from her and was elated to find her eyes focused.

"All you all right? What happened? Was it one of your visions?" 
Eledwhen blinked slowly, waiting for her sight to return to normal. 
She always felt disoriented and had difficulty readjusting to the real 
world after one of her visions. She smiled tentatively, then rose upon 
her toes and kissed Boromir's cheek.

"That was the most creative way anyone has used to pull me back," she 
said lightly.

"What did you see? You were so pale." Boromir raised a hand to caress 
her cheek but froze when he saw the desperate look on her face. 
"Eledwhen, tell me what is wrong."

The Princess gripped his hand tightly and relayed the part of the 
dream that concerned her father and brother. "We must leave Lórien 
now, this very night. I must warn Théodred and Father about 
Wormtongue's plans."

As Eledwhen began to leave, Boromir grabbed her and turned her around 
to face him. "How do you know this to be true? It is dangerous for us 
to travel alone and I shall not do so unless I am certain this was 
more than just a nightmare."

"Would you have me swear an oath that these things will come to pass? 
I cannot, for not all my visions are true ones. But I know in my heart 
that this one is true, and I will not risk my brother's life by 
ignoring my mother's warning."

Boromir looked at her kindly, but when he spoke his words cut through 
her like a knife. "Eledwhen, your mother is dead. She cannot speak to 
you. This vision may be the result of the fight you witnessed between 
Aragorn and me. And I cut you… Let me see the wound! I have been 
remiss in looking after your injury."

Eledwhen pushed away from him and shook her head. "It is nothing but a 
mere scratch. Everyone is making such a fuss over nothing. If you will 
not believe I must leave for Rohan immediately, I shall convince my 
grandmother to send someone to accompany me. But, truly Boromir, it is 
vital that you come with me. If you remain with the Fellowship you 
will die!"

Boromir looked stunned. He wasn't certain how he should respond to 
such a declaration. Hesitantly, he began, "Eledwhen, you don't know 
this."

"I do know this! If you accompany the Fellowship something terrible 
will happen and you will die. If I join you, mayhap I could prevent 
this fate, but then my brother would die. Please do not make me 
choose!" Boromir knew he could never convince her that the dream did 
not portend his fate.

"Let us speak with the Lord and Lady. They should be able to help you 
understand what you saw. But first, tell me exactly what happened in 
Minas Tirith. I will not take one step further until I know the entire 
truth." Eledwhen looked extremely uncomfortable and began twisting a 
lock of hair between her thumb and forefinger. Boromir had become well 
acquainted with this habit and knew it meant she was upset. This time, 
however, he would not budge on the matter. Too many others were privy 
to information he should have been the first to know. He unconsciously 
assumed his Captain's stance and gave her the look that had forced 
many a tale from reticent soldiers.

Eledwhen assessed his stern demeanor and knew she could keep him in 
the dark no longer. He had the right to know the truth, but she 
dreaded having to tell him. "It happened the night of the feast. Your 
father came to my room and said he wanted to apologize for your 
behavior. He asked me to pour him a glass of wine. I felt something 
was wrong -- something about the way he looked at me -- but he was the 
Steward of Gondor! I did not believe I could be in danger from your 
father." Although Boromir kept his emotions hidden behind his 
Captain's mask, Eledwhen could read the mounting horror in his eyes. 
She turned partially away from him and stared into the pond. 

"I cannot speak of the act itself. Neither of us could bear the 
telling of such details. I will say that he gave me a glass of wine 
drugged with a poppy elixir, and that he had his way with me while I 
was unconscious." The Princess said nothing more for several minutes. 
It was Boromir who finally broke the silence. Although his voice was 
gentler, it still carried the weight of command.

"You were not unconscious throughout the entire ordeal. This much I 
have gleaned from what Haldir has said. You must tell me everything. I 
cannot return to Minas Tirith without knowing the full truth of that 
night."

Eledwhen sighed deeply and tears began to fall from her eyes like a 
cleansing spring rain. It felt so good to finally share the burden 
with her husband. While Eledwhen told of the events of that fateful 
night, Boromir remained at attention and expressionless. Only the many 
years of rigorous training kept him from breaking down and weeping. 
The horrors of his battles paled in comparison to the horror of what 
his father had done to his future daughter-in-law. When the tale was 
told and the Princess had fallen silent, Gondor's heir threw back his 
head and uttered a cry so fierce and terrible that all creatures that 
heard it ran in fear of their lives. Eledwhen fell to her knees, 
covered her ears with her hands, and sobbed until her chest hurt and 
her lungs ached for lack of air.

Finally, Boromir spoke. "I will take you to Edoras. When I deem it 
safe to leave you, I shall travel alone to my city. What will happen 
when I see my father, I cannot say, but I will not place you in harm's 
way a second time."

Eledwhen remained on her knees, looking up at her husband hopefully. 
"Then we shall leave on the morrow?"

Boromir shook his head. "Nay, you and I shall remain with the 
Fellowship until the time our paths take different turns. It will be 
safer for you."

The Princess rose quickly and looked at her husband in disbelief. "You 
cannot continue with the Fellowship! Have I not said that such a road 
will end in your death? We must leave without them. It is the only 
way!"

They argued back and forth for more than an hour, but neither would 
give up their position. Eledwhen finally realized it was useless to 
waste time arguing the point. Her husband's mind was set and there 
would be no changing it. "All right, my love. We shall travel with the 
Fellowship. But it must be soon. Time is of the utmost importance. 
Although I acquiesce to your wishes, I believe strongly that doing so 
will result in your death."


------



Chapter Six
My Brother, My Husband



The plot is slowly moving toward February 25, the day Tolkien killed 
off Théodred, and February 26, the day of Boromir's untimely demise. I 
have not made up my mind as to whether either of our heroes will cheat 
their written fate and survive to fight another day. I promise that 
you readers will know almost as soon as I do. I used Peter Jackson's 
story line in the scene with Arwen and Aragorn. You know, the scene 
where she steals Glorfindel's horse (oh, yeah, that was off camera) 
and saves Frodo from the Nazgul. I want my story to have females who 
can kick butt and not be simply ornamental. Even though Eledwhen is a 
Mary Sue in disguise, (not really) she can still take care of herself 
when she has to. If you are puzzled as to why one moment she acts like 
a child and the next she acts like a grownup, just remember that she 
is a teen-ager.

 

My Brother, My Husband

Although Eledwhen argued relentlessly that she must return to Edoras 
immediately, the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood refused to give 
their permission for her to leave. Both cited the recent miscarriage 
and the Fellowship's need for rest and recovery. Although Boromir had 
heeded his brother's dream and sought Imladris, it was only because 
the dream also had come to him. Gondor's heir was not superstitious, 
preferring to place his faith in weapons and loyal men of war. The 
Princess of Rohan, on the other hand, placed great faith in her dreams 
and fretted constantly over the vision of her brother's death. Finally 
growing angry at being treated like a child, Eledwhen rode out in 
search of Haldir. She found the Elf on Lórien's northern border, where 
he and his two brothers were on watch for orcs.

* * * * * * * * *

Haldir heard the sound of the approaching horse well before he saw it. 
His brother, Rumil, mimicked the cry of a crow as a warning. He 
needn't have bothered, however, since Haldir already knew the identity 
of the rider. The marchwarden was smiling broadly as he swung 
gracefully down from the tree in which he had been hiding. He had been 
thinking about Eledwhen and the outrageous behavior of Boromir during 
the recent feast. And now, as though in answer to his thoughts, the 
lady herself was rapidly approaching his position. The Lórien Elf sent 
a mental greeting to the Princess moments before a huge black stallion 
trotted proudly between two mallorns. Eledwhen's smile was wide and 
her eyes alight as she hailed her friend. Haldir hurried over to the 
stallion and reached upward to help her dismount. The Princess slid 
gracefully down her mount's side, her slender waist encircled by the 
Elf's hands.

"Haldir! I was afraid I would be unable to find you. How fair you and 
your brothers?" Rumil and Orophin had joined the reunion and were 
smiling knowingly as Haldir's hands remained about Eledwhen's waist, 
though she seemed not to notice. Both Elves bowed respectfully.

"Eledwhen, what are you doing riding alone? It is dangerous to ride 
about unescorted, even in the Golden Wood. We are too near the border 
and, even here, orcs wander, although not for long." Haldir was 
clearly upset with her lapse in good judgement.

The Princess' expression became grave and she stepped away from 
Haldir. "I came to ask for your help. You are my dearest friend and 
the only one to whom I can turn."

Haldir crossed the small space that separated them in the blink of an 
eye. "What is wrong, Eledwhen? Has Boromir hurt you again? I swear I 
will use him for target practice if he does not treat you with more 
care." Because Haldir was concentrating solely on the girl, he did not 
see his brothers roll their eyes in amusement. Eledwhen turned to face 
Haldir; her eyes were filled with unshed tears.

"I had a vision in which my mother told me that Boromir would die if 
he continued to travel with the Fellowship. I cannot convince him to 
leave with me immediately for Edoras. And if I do not leave soon, my 
brother will die. So I have come to you to ask for a favor." Haldir 
studied Eledwhen's distraught features, then gently took her right 
hand in his.

"I will do what I can, my lady. You have only to ask." Haldir was 
rewarded for his offer of help with a blinding smile and a grateful 
Princess, who threw herself against the Elf, wrapping her arms about 
him in gratitude.

"I knew you would help me. You are truly the dearest of friends." 
Eledwhen hurriedly recounted her vision as well as her conversations 
with Boromir and the Lord and Lady of Lórien. "You must see that I 
cannot be in two places at once; therefore, I must ask you to leave 
immediately for Rohan and warn my brother, Théodred, of this plot to 
kill him. My grandparents will never allow me to leave alone, and I do 
not believe I could reach my homeland should I even attempt such a 
journey by myself. But I know that you can, so I must beg you to 
undertake the journey."

Haldir was stunned by the request. He had hoped she would ask him to 
accompany her south to Edoras, but the request that he undertake the 
mission alone was not something for which he had been prepared. But 
his word was given and he had never broken a promise. "Are you certain 
this cannot wait until the Fellowship departs and you can travel to 
Rohan with the Lord Boromir?"

Eledwhen vehemently shook her head. "Nay, if you do not leave now and 
ride as fast as the wind, my brother will die at the Fords of the 
Isen. Saruman's orcs will slay him and Wormtongue's control over my 
father will tighten. What then shall become of my cousins, Éomer and 
Éowyn, frightens me. Please, Haldir, do this for me and I will forever 
be in your debt." Haldir smiled gently and brushed her hair with the 
back of a hand.

"I have said I will do what I can and so I shall, but I need some 
token to convince the Prince of the Mark that I come at your behest. 
The horse-lords are a superstitious lot and not ones to trust Elves. 
Present company excluded, of course."

Eledwhen nodded solemnly and cast her thoughts on what item she 
possessed that would convince Théodred that Haldir was not some 
servant of Saruman or the Dark Lord. Finally she smiled and removed 
the silver hairpin that kept her tresses swept upward. She placed the 
item in the Elf's hand.

Haldir studied the silver likeness of a running horse with flowing 
mane for a few moments before turning his gaze upon the Princess. His 
eyebrows were raised and she answered his unspoken question. "Théodred 
gave me this the day I turned 18. He designed it himself. Give this to 
my brother and repeat to him what I have told you. He will not 
question your purpose or your word."

Orophin had moved to stand beside his brother. His fair face was 
clouded with doubt. "And what, exactly, do you expect your brother to 
do? Run from battle or send others to die in his place?" Haldir shot 
his younger sibling a dark look, but Orophin did not back down. Rumil 
moved beside his brother in a show of solidarity. Eledwhen stared at 
the three of them as she struggled to find a truthful answer to the 
question. Finally she sighed.

"I have never been able to convince Théodred to have a care for his 
safety. He is a warrior who has seen 40 winters and I do not expect 
him to run away from a fight. I can only pray that this knowledge will 
change his battle strategy enough that he will not be overrun and 
murdered. Haldir, please, I beg you to do this for my sake and the 
sake of my country."

Haldir could feel his brothers' disapproval. He was not certain he 
could influence the Prince, but he had to try. He could not let 
Eledwhen down. It was at that moment he realized how deeply he cared 
for her. He heard a sharp sound of derisive laughter in his mind and 
lashed out verbally at its source. "Have you a better suggestion, 
Brother? The Prince of Rohan is related to our Lord and Lady. Would 
you do nothing to save his life?"

Orophin looked surprised. He had not thought about the mortal in that 
context, nor was he certain he approved of the number of Rohirrim that 
could claim kinship to the Elves of Lórien. Still, there was nothing 
to be done about it now and he could not let his brother face a 
dangerous journey alone. "If you must undertake this mission, then I 
shall go with you. Two Elves are better than one, it is said."

Rumil gaped at his brothers in disbelief. "Are you both mad? We have 
had no dealings with mortals since Théoden King was brought to Caras 
Galadon for healing. You know how high was the price the Lady 
Galadriel paid for her compassion. She has not forgiven Haldir for 
bringing the horse king to the city, and now you both want to run off 
to save his son! I doubt she will give her permission for you both to 
leave Lórien on this mission, especially when the Dark Lord may 
unleash his wrath against us at any moment."

Haldir grinned slyly. "I do not intend to ask for permission. I 
thought to simply disappear for a time."

Rumil stared at one brother and then the other before throwing up both 
hands in frustration. "Go if you must, but do not expect me to cover 
for you should the Lord or Lady ask after your whereabouts." Eledwhen 
moved to Rumil and placed a hand gently upon his shoulder.

"I should be eternally grateful for your silence in this matter, at 
least until they are too far away to be brought back. I know how much 
you love your brothers, for I have a brother whom I love deeply. 
Perhaps it is selfish of me to ask your brothers to risk their lives 
to save my brother, but I cannot help myself. I believe you would do 
the same in my place."

Rumil closed his eyes and a slight tremor passed through his slender 
frame. Eledwhen was suddenly overwhelmed by feelings of anger and 
gnawing fear. Gently she placed a hand to his forehead. Rumil opened 
his eyes as a sense of warmth and well being began to relax his mind 
and body. The princess smiled kindly. "Let me share your feelings and 
lessen their pain as I may. This, at least, I can do."

* * * * * * * * *

As Eledwhen returned to the stables, she spotted the Lord Aragorn 
speaking with the stable master. Both were standing beside a 
magnificent gray stallion bedecked in elaborate elvish accouterment. 
Both turned as the Princess drew abreast of them.

"What a magnificent animal! To whom does he belong?" Eledwhen leapt 
from her saddle, handed her reins to the stable master and moved to 
the stallion's head. "What is his name?" she asked, stroking its 
velvety nose.

"His name is Asfaloth. He occasionally agrees to carry me where I need 
to go." Eledwhen turned around quickly at the sound of the deep, yet 
soft, voice that sounded more like music than speech. Standing before 
her was the most beautiful Elf she had yet seen. She possessed 
luxurious dark hair kept off her face by two braids wrapped about her 
head. The pale, smooth skin was flawless, and her form was slender and 
graceful.

"Allow me to introduce the Lady Arwen Evenstar of Imladris," said 
Aragorn formally.

Arwen glanced in the direction of her betrothed and crinkled her nose 
ever so slightly before turning to Eledwhen. "I have heard much about 
you, Princess of Rohan. The Lord Boromir and I met during his stay in 
our city. It is good to finally meet my new cousin."

Eledwhen realized she was gaping at her Elven cousin from Imladris, 
quickly closed her mouth and moved to Arwen to give her a crushing 
hug. "Grandmother told me much about you as well. I cannot tell you 
how happy I am that you come to visit."

Arwen cast a sidelong glance at Aragorn and said softly, "I was afraid 
I would be too late to see the members of the Fellowship before they 
departed. I brought a gift for the Lord Aragorn." Eledwhen looked from 
Arwen to the Ranger, then back again.

"Oh, you two are… bonded?" she asked cautiously.

Both Elf and Man began laughing. Aragorn's laugh was deep and robust; 
Arwen's was light and musical, much like that of the Lady Galadriel. 
Eledwhen blushed because she thought they were laughing at her. "Do 
not worry, Cousin. We are not laughing at you, but at the expression 
on your face when you asked the question. You really looked quite 
shocked. The answer is that we have pledged ourselves to wed, but have 
not yet bonded ourselves in the way in which you mean. Elves may bond 
themselves to one mate for life, as have you and the Lord Boromir. My 
favorite Ranger and I have chosen not to bond until after the Dark 
Lord has been defeated, for I cannot see the end of the road that my 
beloved must take."

"And I will not allow my lady to bind herself to a man who may meet 
his end along that road. Plus, my future father-in-law has forbid it 
-- and he is not one to cross!" Aragorn took Arwen's hand in his and 
kissed the back of it lightly, chuckling softly at his jest about her 
father. There were tears in her eyes as she gently brushed his dark 
hair away from his face.

After a few silent minutes, she spoke. "Do you never shave, my love?" 
Surprised by the absurdity of the question in the context of the 
moment, Aragorn began to stammer a reply, but stopped when he saw the 
mischievous twinkle in Arwen's eyes.

Eledwhen watched them closely, thinking how much they belonged 
together. Suddenly she remembered that she had been gone for hours and 
had not told anyone she was leaving. Boromir would be frantic. "I am 
sorry, but I must leave now. I have been gone too long and am certain 
my husband will be fretting over my whereabouts." Turning to Arwen, 
she added, "I hope that you and I may find time to speak in private 
before we leave for Rohan."

Arwen frowned slightly. "Is it your intention to travel with the 
Fellowship?" Aragorn gave a slight shake of his head, trying to warn 
her off the subject.

"Of course. I could not possibly allow Boromir to travel home without 
me, for I believe strongly that he shall need me." Eledwhen executed a 
curtsey of respect and began to run toward Caras Galadon. Arwen turned 
stormy eyes upon the Ranger.

"What fool has told the Princess she may accompany the Fellowship?" 
she asked tightly. "Is there a pressing reason for her to risk her 
life along with the rest of you?"

Aragorn sighed deeply. "Boromir has insisted and the lady is willing. 
The Steward's son and I fought because of this. There is no swaying 
either of them from this course."

Arwen shook her head, clearly angry. "I shall talk with Grandmother 
about this. If the two of us cannot change Eledwhen's mind, then I 
shall have to come along as well."

Aragorn became angry in turn. "You shall NOT travel with us! I will 
not allow you to put yourself at such risk!"

Arwen's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You will not allow? Who saved 
Frodo from the Nazgul at the Ford of the Bruinen? Certainly not the 
haughty Ranger of the North. If the Princess of Rohan keeps company 
with the lot of you, then so shall I." With that, Arwen hefted her 
heavy riding skirt and stalked off toward the Elven city. Aragorn 
groaned at the thought of having to look after the safety of two 
females, even though he knew the Evenstar was skilled with a sword and 
bow.

Is it not enough that I must keep an eye on four nearly defenseless 
hobbits and the Lord of Gondor, who lusts after the One? Am I now to 
be distracted by the presence of two females? The Valar protect us 
all! Disgusted with the entire situation, Aragorn swung himself onto 
the back of the stallion ridden by Eledwhen and the two disappeared 
into the woods.

* * * * * * * * *

Eledwhen was standing alone in her and Boromir's room, staring 
sightlessly at the twinkling city below. Her thoughts were focused on 
Haldir and his journey southward to Rohan. She did not hear her 
husband enter or move to stand behind her.

"Where have you been?" he asked softly. Eledwhen jumped slightly, then 
turned to face Boromir.

"I went for a ride in the woods. I needed time alone to think." 
Boromir studied her closely. She was withholding something; otherwise, 
she would be able to look him in the eye.

"What is wrong? I know you too well to be fooled by such a weak 
attempt at subterfuge."

Eledwhen turned away from him, feeling guilty about keeping a secret 
from him. To hide her discomfort, she changed the subject. "The Lady 
Arwen is here. She says you met in Imladris."

Boromir's eyes widened in surprise. "What brings the Lady of Imladris 
so far from her home? Is something amiss?" Eledwhen shook her head, 
but did not turn back to face the man.

"I believe she wants to be with Aragorn as much as I desire to be with 
you. She also brought him a present."

Boromir looked startled. "They were together in Imladris a mere month 
ago. What could she have for him now she had not before we left?"

Eledwhen turned to face him. Something in his tone worried her. "What 
difference does it make that she chose to journey to Lórien to see her 
betrothed? Is there something you are not telling me, Husband? Are you 
jealous that he shall marry the Evenstar as well as claim your 
kingdom?"

The man shook his head vehemently in denial. "No, of course not. That 
is preposterous! Why would you even think it? I merely meant… I mean, 
it is unwise… oh, blast it all! You are half-elven. You figure it 
out!" Boromir was both angry and embarrassed, and clueless as to why. 
Flummoxed, he left the room and went in search of Haldir, who was the 
closest thing to a friend he had in the Golden Wood.

* * * * * * * * *

The Princess of Rohan was nervous. She had been summoned to her 
grandfather's library on the uppermost flet. It was rare for him to 
allow anyone, even Galadriel, to disturb him in what some referred to 
as his "innermost sanctum." Eledwhen could not imagine what she had 
done to have been summoned to his private refuge.

She stood timidly at the library's entrance, marshalling her courage. 
The Lord Celeborn was often quick to anger and his explosive temper 
terrified her. In Rohan, no one dared to raise their voice in her 
presence except Théodred, and even he left the room to spare her the 
worst of his outbursts. With a deep sigh, Eledwhen swept the covering 
across the entrance aside and stepped over the threshold. She was 
surprised to see that her grandfather was not alone. A stern-looking, 
dark Elf sat in a chair, leafing through a leather-bound book with 
pages edged in gold. He looked up as the girl entered and scrutinized 
her intently.

"Grandfather, you sent for me?" Eledwhen's eyes shifted to the unknown 
Elf, then quickly returned to the Lord Celeborn. She was relieved to 
see that he was smiling warmly.

"Eledwhen, there you are. I was beginning to worry about you. Where 
have you been?" Celeborn gave her one of his "I'll know if you lie to 
me" looks. The Princess was searching for a plausible answer when the 
visitor rose from his chair.

"Celeborn," he said gently. "Why don't you introduce me to your 
granddaughter?"

The golden Elven lord looked from Eledwhen to his guest. "Of course, I 
did not mean to be rude. Eledwhen, this is the Lord Elrond of 
Imladris. He and his daughter have come for a visit."

Immensely relieved by the change of topic, Eledwhen asked, "You are 
Arwen's father? I just spoke with her at the stables. She did not say 
that her father had journeyed with her."

Celeborn's cold voice interrupted their conversation. "And what, pray 
tell, where you doing at the stables? You did not say you were going 
out. I have told you never to ride alone; it is not safe." Eledwhen 
looked uncomfortable, and again the Lord of Imladris came to her aid.

"Celeborn, I should like to get to know Boromir's wife. Perhaps you 
could spare her company long enough for us to have tea in the garden?" 
Elrond's expression was innocently polite. The Lord of Lórien gave him 
an exasperated look, but acquiesced all the same. "Very good," Elrond 
said. "Would you be so kind as to send for my daughter to join us? I 
shall see you this evening at dinner. Come, my dear." The last was 
addressed to Eledwhen. Smiling at him gratefully, she took his offered 
arm and together they left the library. Neither said a word until they 
reached Galadriel's garden. Eledwhen removed her hand from his arm and 
walked over to the pond, where she pretended to study the many-hued 
fish. Elrond finally broke the silence.

"Now that I have thwarted what would have been a very uncomfortable 
conversation, why don't you tell me how you are getting along? I 
understand you have been ill."

Eledwhen looked at him balefully as tears began to form. Hastily she 
rubbed her eyes, angry with herself for constantly becoming so 
damnably emotional. A soothing voice inside her head urged her not to 
worry about such a natural occurrence. Her eyes widened and Elrond 
chuckled audibly.

"Surely you do not believe that only the Tree Elves have the ability 
to share their thoughts non verbally? It is a trait common to our 
race. Come, sit down and tell me how you fare physically. Lord 
Celeborn told me about the loss of your child. I am very sorry. I, 
too, have some skill as a healer. If I can help, you have but to ask."

Eledwhen nodded her thanks for his concern instead of speaking it 
because she was fighting off another crying spell. "Perhaps you can 
help by telling me why I constantly feel like crying? I have never 
been one to cry. It is such a childish thing to do!"

Elrond placed one of his large hands over her much smaller hands and 
said, in his most knowledgeable healer's voice, "When you were with 
child, your body underwent many changes. Surely your grandmother 
explained this to you?" Eledwhen nodded and the Elven lord continued, 
"Then do not fret over what cannot be helped. Soon enough your body 
will return to normal and you shall feel your old -- or rather young 
-- self again. Is there anything else you wish to tell me about your 
condition? Are you in any pain?" Eledwhen shook her head in the 
negative and Elrond visibly relaxed. "This is good. Now, tell me about 
events in your homeland. I would like to hear about your father and 
brother."

Eledwhen smiled warmly at the Lord of Imladris and began by telling 
him what her family members were like. She then proceeded to tell him 
about Rohan and its constant battles against the orcs and the 
political intrigue that made life in Edoras an unhappy one at best. 
She did not notice the appearance of Boromir, although Elrond sensed 
his presence. The Lord of Gondor had not heard about Gríma 
Wormtongue's attempts to gain Eledwhen's hand in marriage and he 
became angry.

"Why did you not tell me about this man's unwanted intentions? I shall 
put him in his place when we reach your city." Eledwhen had not told 
her husband about Wormtongue because she did not want him to cross her 
father's counselor. When they reached Edoras, Boromir would be alone 
and at the mercy of Gríma's henchmen.

"I did not tell you because it is no longer of importance. We are now 
man and wife. I have given up my claim to the throne of Rohan and, 
therefore, am no longer a prize to be coveted by Master Wormtongue. I 
fear, though, for Éowyn should my brother be murdered in battle and 
something equally horrible befall Éomer."

Boromir nodded his understanding. "And should all come to pass as you 
say, Théoden King would likely die in his sleep, the Worm would force 
your cousin to marry him and he would claim the crown. It is a bold 
plan."

"It is a wicked, evil plan! This commoner never could have come so 
close to the kingship if he had not the help of the wizard Saruman. I 
cannot bear to think what will happen to my country if his Uruks and 
orcs are allowed to run unfettered."

Elrond stood and held a hand out to the Princess. "Come, my dear. Why 
don't you go and find my daughter, Arwen, and see what she is up to? I 
would like a word with the Lord Boromir." Eledwhen looked at him, 
frowning, for she did not like the abruptness of her dismissal.

"I am not a child who needs to be told to run along and play when the 
grownups speak of serious matters." Elrond and Boromir shared an 
amused smile, which infuriated Eledwhen even more. "I shall go, but 
only if you apprise me of any important decisions the two of you make 
concerning myself or my country." She looked at them challengingly and 
both nodded their agreement. After a perfunctory curtsey, the Princess 
of Rohan left the garden.

"I must see what can be done about this king's counselor when I arrive 
in Rohan," Boromir said darkly. "Gondor cannot stand by while its ally 
is destroyed from within."

Elrond shook his head. "It would be unwise of you to openly challenge 
this Wormtongue, if that is your intent. You will be only one against 
many, and you have your own problems at home."

Boromir looked at him through narrowed eyes, contemplating what the 
Lord of Imladris might know about his father's actions. Elrond smiled 
and motioned toward the woods. "Come, let us walk among the mellyrns 
and discuss strategy. Perhaps we two can find a solution to both 
problems that will not involve bloodshed." The Steward's heir nodded, 
and the Elf and Man walked side by side into the Golden Wood.



-----




Chapter Seven
Rohan, My Rohan



I am posting this on the anniversary of my first chapter in the 
"Dynasty Broken" trilogy. It was exactly one year ago today, March 16, 
2002, that I posted Chapter I of Love and Lust. My heartfelt thanks to 
each and every one of you who has been here since the beginning and 
read all three stories. You are deeply appreciated. Readers who have 
recently found my works, thank you as well.

This chapter takes Haldir and Orophin to Meduseld, where they apprise 
Prince Théodred of events concerning his sister, Eledwhen. Osheen 
Nevoy, author of the cleverly written Boromir's Return, has asked that 
if I have to kill either Boromir or Théodred, that I please kill the 
Rohirrim prince. I think she just might be a Boromir fan.

Disclaimer: I write for fun and for the entertainment of others. I am 
not always logical; I am not trying to adhere strictly to canon. This 
story is A/U but based on canon and the early writings of Tolkien. 
Helpful suggestions and comments are appreciated; however, if you 
decide to enter my fantasy world and don't like my plot ideas, please 
keep those comments to yourself. Again, I appreciate positive input 
and will weave it into the story if possible. For instance, many 
readers have made a plea for Boromir to stop acting like a jerk. I 
have heard you and shall obey. Thank you faithful readers for your 
continued support. 





Rohan, My Rohan

Haldir and his brother, Orophin, made camp on the south side of the 
River Limlight two days after leaving the Golden Wood. They had 
"borrowed" a couple of Lórien horses, anticipating that the swift 
steeds would be able to reach Edoras well before the Fellowship left 
Caras Galadon.

"Tomorrow we shall set our course south and west across The Wold. In 
less than two more days we should reach Fangorn Forest." Haldir was 
grooming WindStar, one of the swiftest of the Lórien steeds and a 
favorite of the Lord Celeborn.

"I do not understand why you chose one of the few horses that will 
most certainly be missed if the Lord and Lady decide to go riding," 
Orophin grumbled as he brushed his own mount's sweat-soaked coat.

"I am on an errand for their granddaughter, who also is the Princess 
of Rohan. Only the swiftest steed will do for such an important 
mission. I notice that you chose one of the best horses in the 
stables."

Orophin gave his brother a "drop dead" look and continued to brush his 
mount in silence. Haldir was no longer expecting a reply when the 
other said, "I had to select a horse that could match WindStar's 
stamina. Is it my fault the mare belongs to the Lord of Imladris?"

Haldir laughed lightly. "Might as well take the best. The punishment 
will be the same. We must rely on Eledwhen's winning ways to sway the 
stern lords from skinning us alive." Orophin shot his brother a 
strange look. Haldir frowned, not understanding the meaning behind it. 
"Speak, Brother. What is on your mind?"

The younger sibling placed the brush back into his pack before meeting 
his brother's eyes. "I do not wish to see you hurt. And you will be if 
you continue to be influenced by Eledwhen's charms."

Haldir's eyes narrowed. "I have sensed something weighing heavily upon 
your mind for some time. Something you hesitate to put into words. It 
is now time to speak openly and plainly."

Sighing loudly, Orophin replied, "You have become too fond of the Lady 
Eledwhen; your judgement is impaired. I do not believe we would be on 
this potentially deadly mission except that you believe you are in 
love with her." Haldir began to protest, but his brother raised one 
hand, palm outward, to stop his denials. With his sibling silent, 
Orophin added, "Let us say that I believe you are not in love with the 
beautiful Eledwhen. Still, I know what your logic would be. I beg you, 
do not repeat your argument about saving one who is now kin to the 
Elves. I am not moved to tears by such flawed logic."

The marchwarden threw down the brush he had been using to groom 
WindStar and strove to master his growing disgust with Orophin's 
obtuseness. "You just refuse to see why saving the life of the Prince 
of Rohan is so important."

"Why don't you enlighten me?" Orophin responded dryly. "I certainly do 
not see how one less mortal populating Middle-earth will matter in the 
great scheme of things."

Haldir looked at his brother coldly and took three deep breaths before 
speaking. "Should Saruman gain control of the Mark, Gondor will fall 
without the horse-lords' aid. If Gondor fails, so, too, will 
Middle-earth. It will not matter one whit to us for we shall board our 
grand ships and sail to the Undying Lands. But what will happen to 
Aragorn and his kinfolk? Would you aid in their destruction?"

Orophin bowed his head and appeared to be studying his hands. When he 
finally looked up, there were tears in his eyes. "I have never allowed 
myself to think about the death and destruction that will occur when 
the Dark Lord's full wrath is unleashed. I had thought to convince you 
and Rumil to leave before then."

"I never figured you for a coward, Brother. Perhaps you were wrong to 
come along on this mission. It is likely far too dangerous for you. 
You may return to Lórien if you wish. You owe me nothing, and you may 
be fortunate enough to return before you have been missed." Haldir was 
both angry and disappointed by his brother's selfishness.

"Nay, Haldir. I will remain by your side as long as we both draw 
breath. I will not be judged faithless." Orophin's smile was sad as he 
shifted the long bow strung across his back to a more comfortable 
position. "I will take the watch. Take some rest, if you can. I will 
be here when you awaken."

* * * * * * * * *

In less than two days, they were skirting the edge of Fangorn Forest 
at the western edge of The Wold. Haldir was becoming increasingly 
nervous as a foreshadowing of death pricked at his consciousness. 
Afraid they would arrive too late to save Eledwhen's brother, they 
pushed onward at an even greater speed, slowing down only to cross the 
River Entwash. On the opposite bank, the two dismounted and wrung out 
their wet clothing and the few items they had packed for the journey. 
The stars were just beginning to appear in the heavens.

"What say you to a hot meal, Brother? Perhaps it will improve that 
sour disposition of yours." Haldir was kneeling on the ground beside 
the saddlebags, a wide grin on his face, waiting for Orophin's reply. 
When it did not come, Haldir started to scold his younger brother, but 
stopped when he realized Orophin was listening to something in the 
distance -- something he could not hear even with his keen Elvish 
senses. He knew well that Orophin's hearing was far superior to his 
own and so did not waste time with foolish questions. Instead, Haldir 
stood and listened for whatever had captured Orophin's attention. 
Gradually he could hear faint sounds of a fierce battle. "Let us go, 
little brother," the marchwarden said urgently. "Someone may need our 
help."

Both hurriedly gathered their gear, flung it onto the horses' backs, 
leapt into their saddles and nearly flew across the Westemnet. After 
nearly 15 minutes of hard riding, they drew their slender Elven bows 
in unison as the loud shouts and screams verified their arrival at a 
battlefield as yet unseen. Both mounts pounded furiously up the side 
of a small hillock, beyond which lay the winter lawn of Rohan. The 
once idyllic picture of rolling grasslands had been slashed and ruined 
by the commingling of red and black blood. The two Elves beheld for 
the first time the sight of men locked in mortal combat with the great 
strength of Saruman's fighting Uruk-hai. Haldir turned to face his 
sibling. "If you leave now, I shall not count you faithless." Orophin 
smiled, nocked an arrow to his great bow, took careful aim and began 
felling orcs. Nothing more was said as the two Elves rode to rescue 
the men of the Mark.

* * * * * * * * *

Éomer was trapped in the midst of the battle, surrounded on all sides 
by Uruk-hai almost as tall as himself. The King's sister-son no longer 
could see those who had ridden with him and was beginning to believe 
that this truly might be his last battle. Éomer raised his sword to 
fend off a large Uruk, only to watch in surprise (and relief, for he 
was tiring quickly) as it dropped dead at his feet. He barely had time 
for a quick glance at the protruding yellow-fletched arrow before two 
orcs jumped on his back. One of the creatures tried to maneuver a 
short-bladed dagger past his armor and into his flesh, while the other 
attempted to separate his head from his neck. The weight of the two 
orcs drove Éomer to his knees. As he fell, he thrust his sword up and 
backward, managing to skewer one of the orcs. The other, however, had 
found a weak link in his armor and the King's nephew felt pressure 
against his side. Thankfully, the finely linked chain mail stopped the 
poisoned blade from piercing his flesh long enough for another of the 
yellow-shafted arrows to find its mark. As the orc's dead weight 
almost knocked Éomer flat on the ground, a hand reached out to him.

"I tire of saving members of Rohan's royal family. Can you horse 
people not take care of yourselves?" Éomer looked up, surprised by the 
sound of the lyrical voice, which he knew could not belong to an orc 
or warrior of the Riddermark. The Third Marshall's mouth fell open at 
the sight of the elegant creature standing above him, exquisite hand 
extended. "Are you going to get up, or would you prefer to die on your 
knees?"

Éomer took the proffered hand, rose to his feet and almost immediately 
had to jump to the side to avoid the thrust of an orc scimitar. He 
needn't have bothered, however, for the beautiful creature beside him 
cut the creature's throat in one fluid, deft motion. "You must be kin 
to the late Queen Elanor," Éomer gasped, as the realization that he 
was looking at an Elf hit him like a 200-pound Uruk.

"I suggest you pay more attention to the battle. I'd hate to take the 
news of your death to the Princess." Haldir grinned impishly at the 
man he assumed was either Eledwhen's brother or cousin, f