Boromir's Return -II- Book Four of the Tales of the Fourth Age Series

Chapter Seventeen: Hard Truths

Fo.A 2, August 25th

Boromir was pleased with the amount of work that had accomplished in the past month, and was looking forward to seeing Aragorn again; he had many things to speak with him about, namely the rebuilding of Annúminas.

One of the Rangers had ridden ahead and let Boromir know that the king would be arriving within hours, which sent the hobbits standing close by into flurry of activity as they began to prepare a welcome feast.

The Party Field was soon filled with freshly cut wildflowers, tents, tables, chairs, benches, casks of ale, sweets, and other mouth-watering foods; there was music and dancing, singing and cheering. In spite of Boromir's best efforts, the hobbits broke into the casks and began drinking, and he looked on shaking his head, a smile crossing his face. Hobbits.

Aragorn and his party arrive a short time later, and Frodo, Arabella, and Sam went to meet them, followed closely by some thirty hobbits. They embraced, and Aragorn looked at Frodo, a sense of relief in his eyes. "It has been too long, my friend."

Frodo nodded, smiling. "Indeed it has been. Much has happened since we left your fair city."

Aragorn's face became grave. "Too much, I think. But that is talk for a later time, tonight is a time for happier things."

"Well spoken, Mr. Strider," said Sam in agreement.

"Come," Frodo said, motioning towards the feast. "You're people are tired. Come and sit, fill your bellies and your pipes."

There was not a word of argument, so Aragorn and Arwen led their party towards the tables that had been set up for them, greeting the hobbits that came to greet them. Most of the hobbit lads stood staring at Arwen with wide eyes and slack-jawed mouths. They had never seen a more beautiful creature in all their life. The adults did their best to appear proper before them, but it was short-lived as more casks of ale were rolled out.

Boromir welcomed them and made sure everyone had a mug in their hands, food on their plates, and leaf for their pipes before finally sitting down himself at the end of the table, enjoying the dancing and general merriment of all those gathered there.

Ninel had been drug out to dance but a plucky young hobbit lad who was excitedly showing her how to do the dance. Boromir laughed at the sight of her, all flustered and red-cheeked.

As soon as one song was done, another began, and Ninel thanked the lad and ran over to Boromir, grabbing his hand. "Join me for a dance!" she said happily and out of breath.

Boromir shook his head. "I do not dance," he replied politely.

Ninel put out her lip as if she were pouting. "Not even with your adopted niece?"

Boromir laughed, looking at her with keen eyes. "How could I possibly refuse?"

Ninel grinned. "You can't," she said excitedly as she led him out to where the dance had already begun.

He was not as free-spirited as the hobbits, nor as graceful as an elf, but he found himself enjoying the moment with the girl more than he thought he would.

After a time, though, Boromir couldn't look at her without the weight of the secret he kept back from her settling upon his shoulders. He took his leave from the dancing, Ninel following in his wake, cheeks flush with the energy of youth; a sweet innocence alight in her eyes.

"Where are you going?" Ninel asked breathlessly, taking Boromir by the arm. "Tired already?"

Boromir smiled, chuckling to himself. "I have labored many long weeks, so yes, I am tired."