Of Dwarves and Men {Boromir/LOTR}

Chapter 17: Creepier than stalkers

Chapter 17:

Creepier than stalkers

"When did this happen?" a voice peeks in from beneath the cover of sleep, and a sound one at that. It is a gruffer tone, like that of dwarves, and one identifying directly in my mind. Gimli is awake before me? This is surely a strange occasion.

"I haven't the slightest clue," a melodious voice responds, falling into the name of "Aragorn." I can feel a thick set of arms resting around my waist, holding me to an even firmer surface on which my cheek rests. And though the description sounds beyond uncomfortable, it is an embrace that could not be more loving and gentle.

"Well, I support it...look at that smile upon her face and his contented breathing. Indeed, they are a dream couple by the looks of it," Aragorn furthers in his creepy watching of my sleeping form. But it is with his words that I recognize my state of rest within the arms of Boromir, and apparently a contented Boromir at that. His breath brushes past my ear in slow, yet whole, rhythms to match the every beat of my heart.

My eyes peek open with the gentle rising of the sun, eyelashes fluttering against the chest of my one and only love. I take little heed of the company as I raise my heavy head from sleeping, moving in slow motions so as to ensure Boromir's rest. With his mouth open in the slightest bit and hair strewn across the mat, he looks like an innocent child clutching at his favorite stuffed-toy, or me in this case. And thus, I take great care to remove his hands from about my waist, slow and gentle like the lulling monstrosity of sleep itself. But as I am not divine in this power, my actions go to stirring the Gondorian, his eyes crinkling as my breath hides itself in my throat. And thus, when he finally opens his eyes upon the day, I look breathless and frozen to his every gaze.

"Good morning, my love," he addresses me, his voice thick and smooth from hours of dreaming. And though I was previously panicked at my actions, I relax back into his embrace, smiling in the slightest bit in return.

"Good morning," I respond as he moves his hand from my waist to tuck a rebellious curl behind my ear. In effect of his actions in brushing my cheek, I lean into his palm that comes to rest upon my jaw, feeling warm in the embrace of a significant other. We stare heartedly into each other's eyes, blue to gray, and with a growing admiration for a conjoined presence.

"I ship it so hard," Ruelin exclaims, alerting both Boromir and myself to the attention of the other Five Hunters. My eyes widen at their own surprise and happiness, Aragorn, Frerin, Ruelin, and Legolas expressing the latter while Gimli just looks shocked. In response, I scramble to my feet, pulling Boromir up in a hurry, and brushing the invisible dirt off my tunic. I can hear the others smothering laughter while Boromir and I stand a good three feet from each other.

"Well then, onward with the day," I remark before pacing off in the direction of food. Laughter erupting behind me, I almost don't notice Boromir's hand in my own as he matches my pace down the hall. And thus, we continue on together in the morning festivities.

Breakfast is a rush, with eggs and toast flying every which way as soldiers multitask and leaders converse. I am rushed to-and-fro by the Fellowship and women of Rohan, handed a navy tunic (how perfect), and grey leggings to match my own travel-worn black boots. Eowyn ties my unruly hair back into a thick French braid, tucking in daisies with little reason other than femininity. I freeze when I notice this but it is far too late to change the braid.

By the time I meet up again with the Fellowship, the entirety of Rohan, not just the palace, is in a frenzy to prepare. Soldiers and guards travel between homes as horses rear up in response to the slight panic. And though I wish to believe this fear to derive from the sudden rush, I reason it comes from the lurking danger of Saruman and Mordor.