"I'd like to commit hanky-panky with you,
Miss Adora Belle Dearheart...
well, certainly hanky, and possibly panky
when we get to know one another better."
― Terry Pratchett, Going Postal
52. Love Is in the Air
Lately there had been much too few opportunities for kissing. Boromir had been obliged to return earlier to Minas Tirith and make certain arrangements for the coronation, and though Nellas of course went with him, he had an annoying following of guards that made intimacy impossible during the ride. He had hinted at getting betrothed after the war, and now it was after the war – what was he waiting for?
Upon arrival Boromir headed directly to the citadel where Faramir had temporarily led the city during his absence. Nellas quite liked Faramir, the little she had spoken with him; he seemed gentle and kind. Like his brother he was handsome, with dark hair and a neat beard, but he lacked some of Boromir's raw masculinity; that sense of tightly controlled strength that she found so attractive in him.
The brothers greeted each other with a rough embrace, and then Boromir fired questions at Faramir. How was their father? How far had the rebuilding process come along? What arrangements had been made for Aragorn's coronation, and had a house been prepared for him to live in afterwards? Where would the Dúnedain and his friends from the Fellowship reside?
Faramir answered satisfactorily; it seemed he had kept himself busy while Boromir was at Cormallen.
"I know I could trust you, little brother! You have thought of everything."
"Indeed." He smiled and gave Boromir a light shove. "You did not have to leave the others so soon on my account."
"Actually I had another reason to come; something we must discuss. Aragorn has offered me to become steward."
"Steward? Like father?"
"Not quite. Father had all the responsibilities of a king, because there was none – but for me, it would be more like when the office was first installed. Someone who serves and protects the country and remains at the king's side."
"Good," said Nellas. "You like Aragorn."
"I do." He gave her a brief smile, before turning back to Faramir. "The problem is, I worry that our people will think Father has been slighted. Not many know what state he is in."
"Maybe we could invite the city council and explain the situation to them, and let a few of them meet him? I think he can handle visitors if there are not too many, and preferably some he knows well. We could have a small ceremony where we help Father give the rod of office to you, and afterwards the council announce the news to the people."
Boromir smacked his fist against his palm. "Great! The people trust the council."
"And when Aragorn arrives we summon everyone to the gate, where you pass the rod to him, showing them that he will be the new ruler," Faramir continued. "That way people will see for themselves he is not taking the crown by force."
Glad to have solved the issue, the brothers continued speaking at length about other matters, but by now Nellas was bored and stopped listening. She walked slowly along the walls of the room, admiring the paintings and tapestries that hung there while she thought about what she wanted to do with Boromir later in the secluded garden at the sixth circle.
Suddenly her attention was caught again; Faramir had said the word 'propose'.
"... but I wanted to wait until I could discuss it with you. Do you think it is a good idea? If she accepts, she may want to live in her homeland, and then you or Aragorn would have to assign a new captain for the rangers of Ithilien."
"Well, I cannot say I am surprised!" Boromir's voice was full of mirth. "She is a beautiful lady, though she strikes me as a bit cold."
"Not at all," Faramir protested. "There is passion underneath that well-bred mask, but she must hide her true self; there are so many rules a woman has to obey. While you were away I spoke with her often and learned much."
"Oh, dear brother, you have been busy." His grin broadened. "Well, much as I am loath to lose my best captain, I am sure Aragorn and I can spare you if we have to. Do as your heart bids you. Seek happiness." He glanced in Nellas' direction. "I know I will."
"Thank you. Then perhaps we can have..." He lowered his voice, but of course she heard him easily anyway. "... a double wedding?"
"You should not sell the skin before you catch the bear. Ask her first."
"I will. Time for some bear hunting!" Still chuckling, Faramir left the room on light feet.
"I want to see this," said Nellas.
"Give them some privacy," Boromir objected.
But she was already out of the door.
ʕll ಠ ‿ ಠ llʔ q( o _ O )p
A light drizzle made Éowyn shiver and pull her dark cloak closer, but she didn't leave her usual place at the garden wall. Though she knew it was stupid to torture herself so, her eyes were locked on the road to Osgiliath where any day now the Host of the West would return with the future King of Gondor at the front.
He had not sent for her. Lord Boromir and Lord Faramir had been invited to his victory celebration at Cormallen, but not Éowyn. Oh no. Aragorn was probably too important to remember a lowly shieldmaiden from Rohan.
Then why was she still looking for him? Why did she keep this pathetic vigil over a man who only looked at her with pity?
Maybe it was because of how well they matched; it annoyed and frustrated her to no end that he had been so blind to what was right and natural. Aragorn was a mighty warlord and soon a king, Éowyn was a shieldmaiden and a king's niece; why had he not seen how perfect they would be for each other? A warrior king and queen, riding together to battle and fame.
The garden gate squeaked and Faramir entered with rosy cheeks and eager steps. She had a strong suspicion what his errand was; the past weeks his intentions had become rather clear.
What would her answer be?
If she was honest with herself she quite liked him, and was attracted to him as well. But accepting him would mean admitting defeat. Admitting that she had failed to marry a king. It would also mean giving up what little freedom she had to become a wife and mother.
She had trained all her life to be the warrior she was today. Would she throw all that away?
It was true that the first days after the battle she had felt ill when thinking about it, shocked to have killed men for the first time and disgusted by the blood on her hands. But it had passed. She had grown stronger, harder, and now she longed to be of service again. Though the Dark Lord was no more, it would take time to eliminate all of his minions and she wanted to help.
But instead the proud shieldmaiden would be tamed and subdued, her sword and helmet put on a shelf and her warhorse exchanged for a meek mare.
Faramir took his usual place at her side. "Many times you and I have walked together in this garden. We have shared our worries and fears, sought comfort in each other's presence, and at last seen the shadow depart and the eagle bring us tiding of victory. We have rejoiced together at this very spot. Yet, still your eyes look north. Why, Éowyn?"
"Do you not know?"
He got a hurt expression. "I think I do."
Suddenly annoyed, Éowyn told him to quit the riddle game. "Speak plainly!"
"If you want it, lady, then I will. You look for Lord Aragorn, Elendil's heir, whose love you desired to have. But he gave you only understanding and pity, so then you desired to have nothing unless a brave death in battle. I think you know there is another who holds you dear. Look at me, Éowyn! Do you not love me, or will you not?"
She met his earnest gaze, trying to discern whether he was pitying her too. "I wished to be loved by another," she admitted, noticing him flinching slightly at that. "But I desire no man's pity. Not his, not yours."
He shook his head. "Once I looked upon you with pity, but not now. You are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten, and you are a lady beautiful, I deem, beyond even the words of the Elven-tongue to tell. And I love you."
He meant it, she could see that, and the look of adoration she suddenly saw in his eyes stirred something within her.
"As of now, I am a ranger and a captain," he continued, "but I have spoken to my brother. He will be steward and Aragorn king, which leaves me the freedom to resign my position and settle down. With you, if you would have me. Do you not love me?" he repeated.
Settle down? Resign as captain? Then his words sank in and she understood the full implication of what he had said.
Perhaps she could have it all; renown and love.
"Nay," she said firmly.
He blanched. "Nay?"
Her lips quirked at his dismayed look. "Nay, you must not resign your position, for I will join you and the rangers. I will be your shieldmaiden wife."
And then she took him in her arms and kissed him under the sunlit sky, and she cared not that they stood high upon the walls in the sight of many.
ʕ(ᵔ ‿ ᵔ)ʔ
According to Boromir it was not polite to eavesdrop, so Nellas had to make do with looking at Éowyn and Faramir from behind a tree out of hearing range.
Rather jealous she turned to Boromir. "Why can they kiss in front of people? And now they hold hands too. See?"
"Because they have become officially betrothed to be married." Boromir looked around to make sure their secluded corner of the garden was still empty before giving her forehead a peck. "And I know what you will ask next. 'Why are we not betrothed?'"
"Yes. Why not? Do you still love me?"
"Of course I do." He kissed her again, her cheek this time. "But the upcoming coronation and my taking over stewardship have complicated matters. The office is inheritary, so I will be expected to marry a Gondorian lady and produce an heir. But do not worry! I intend to speak with Aragorn about granting you citizenship, and perhaps a title too. As for heirs, that is not necessary if you do not want to, because my brother could inherit the office as well, and–"
Nellas felt a tingle of interest. "I want to make an heir with you."
Boromir stopped talking and moved a fraction closer. "You do?"
She met his eyes. They had widened and become rather intense.
"Very much."
That was all she had time to say before Boromir latched onto her lips with ill-restrained fervency, pressing her back against the tree. "You ... drive ... me ... crazy ..." he grunted between kisses.
She clung to him. "Talk to Aragorn soon."
"I will. Trust me, I will." He kissed her again with increasing need, making her unable to speak for quite some time.
ʕll ಠ ‿ ಠ llʔ q( ಠ ‿ ಠ )p
Riding behind Aragorn's new, black banner, Kat and her friends were nearing Minas Tirith. Thankfully she had been lent a calm and well-behaved gelding, for though she had sat on horses before, it was probably twenty years ago or so. She wore Legolas' long Lothlórien cloak over her dress – when she refused to ride side-saddle he had insisted she must use it to cover her exposed legs – and enjoyed his scent in her nostrils and his pleasant company where he rode next to her.
As was his habit, he pointed out interesting trees and other sights of nature in passing, and it gladdened her that he seemed so cheerful; more like the elf she had first gotten to know all those months back.
For her own part, she was more at ease as well. It was strange how soon she had adapted to being in her own body in Middle-earth, as if she had lived there for months rather than days. It reminded her of starting a new school, or a new job – there was still much she didn't know, but on the whole she had begun to feel quite at home.
Next to Aragorn's company rode a group of Rohan horsemen. Kat recognized King Théoden and the fierce Lord Éomer, and recalled with a certain measure of pride that the king wouldn't have been there if she hadn't started the butterfly effect that saved his life.
Another who would have been dead sat on a pony behind Frodo and Sam. Kat had almost not recognized Sméagol when Frodo introduced him earlier, well scrubbed and in clean clothes. Now she found it slightly less unlikely that he might meet someone and sire a child.
She felt Legolas' eyes on her, and as she had anticipated he averted them with a blush when she turned his way. Now, that was a novelty she wouldn't get used to soon! That Legolas would sneak peaks at her – he who had always been so superior when she was a cat, and never failed to tease her when he caught her staring! The roles had become almost reversed.
Actually, not quite reversed. She had a hard time controlling her own eyes when he was nearby, and her longing to be close to him physically was becoming almost unbearable. She had thought she would suffice with just friendship, but the more time passed, the less sure she got about that. She wanted to hug him, cuddle up with him at night... And more. She wanted to kiss him.
Her eyes were drawn to his mouth, adorably upturned in the corners, and the hint of a dimple appearing when he smiled. She wanted to taste those lips, and then continue down his neck... Exploring his lithe, strong warrior's body. And–
He looked up, and now it was Kat's turn to drop her gaze. Darn elf. He made her raunchy as a tomcat!
If only she knew what kind of relationship they had, whether it was still only friendship – or more. He had said he wasn't the marrying kind, but then why did he look at her like that? Without knowing his intentions, she didn't know how to respond. Should she look back? Flirt with him? Ignore it?
She wished she could enter his head and find out what he was thinking, because talking about this would be way too embarrassing. Especially after her rash declaration of love that time...
They had arrived at Minas Tirith, and Kat shook off her thoughts about Legolas' confusing behavior. A huge crowd awaited them and their whisperings and murmurings filled the air like a swarm of bees. It was still early; the first rays of the morning sun made the mountains behind the city shine like they were on fire, and Aragorn too looked radiant in his black armor and white cloak where he majestically walked the final meters on foot. He was flanked by the King of Rohan, Gandalf, the four hobbits and a man Legolas said was named Prince Imrahil. The rest of them followed suit at a respectful distance.
Kat looked at the cheering citizens they passed; the flowers and colorful garlands in their hands and hair; the elegant dresses and rich robes; the fancy hats. She felt a bit out of place in her plain wool kirtle, but at least the elf who escorted her was someone to be proud of. Legolas wore his usual hunter's green tunic but could have outclassed everybody even in rags.
A trumpet rang and Boromir went out through the gate holding a white rod in one hand. He kneeled before Aragorn and passed it to him. "My Lord. I am the new Steward of Gondor, after succeeding my father Denethor the Second who suffered grave injuries during the war. I am here to surrender my office."
Aragorn returned the rod. "That office is not ended." Then he solemnly declared that the stewardship would remain Boromir's and his descendants' for as long as his line lasted.
Boromir bowed his head in acceptance. Turning to the people, he introduced Aragorn to them, recounting his many titles and ending with a question: "Shall this man be your king?"
"Yea," they cried in unison.
It was not quite democracy, Kat figured, but not too far off, and it made her happy that the people had a say.
Now followed the coronation; Aragorn kneeled in front of Gandalf and Frodo was asked to bring the crown to him. Legolas said it was a great honor shown to the ring bearer.
The crown gleamed in the sunshine as Gandalf placed it on Aragorn's head and proclaimed: "Now come the days of the king, and may they be blessed while the thrones of the Valar endure!"
Aragorn slowly stood in front of his new subjects, tall and kingly like only he could. An awed silence ensued.
"He is very handsome," breathed Kat.
"For a human, aye," Legolas agreed, smiling at the King of Gondor with affection.
"Behold the king!" yelled Boromir. And there was much rejoicing.
ʕ( ᵔ ‿ ᵔ )ʔ
The coronation feast was bountiful beyond imagining. Aragorn and his companions walked through streets littered with flower petals and music playing up in every corner. When they reached the citadel a grand hall had been prepared with long tables laden with delicious courses.
At the head table sat the new king together with the steward Boromir and his brother Faramir. Gandalf was there too, and the King of Rohan with nephew and niece, and Prince Imrahil and his sons, and many other important people and noblemen.
The food and wine were just as tasty as they looked, and after the much simpler fare during the journey Kat was happy to stuff herself. She was also glad that she was seated with her friends rather than up with the fancy people.
Nellas seemed less pleased. She hardly touched her food and cast many longing looks at the head table.
"Don't fret, lass," Gimli told her, brushing bread crumbs from his beard. "He will propose before you know it, and then you'll be Madame Steward."
She ignored him.
"Unlike her, he is mortal," said Legolas. "What makes you so sure he will propose?"
"He will," said Nellas.
"Yes, why wouldn't he?" Frodo piped in. "Aragorn is betrothed to a half-elven too; Arwen, Lord Elrond's daughter."
"I know," Legolas admitted. "But she may choose a destiny no elves share."
"What destiny is that?"
"The Valar has granted her the Gift of Men – to become mortal. Elrond's brother chose a mortal life and died a long time ago, but Elrond chose to remain an elf. His children have yet to decide for themselves, or so I am told." He suddenly looked wistful. "I envy them, in a way."
"Why so?" asked Pippin. "I think I'd rather live forever like you."
"Would you really?" Legolas looked at him seriously. "Around you, all your friends grow old and leave you, one at a time. You would soon be alone."
"Well... When you put it that way..."
Nellas frowned at him. "A few years of love and happiness is worth it, even if it means an eternity alone. Which it doesn't have to mean, as I told you before."
"An eternity is a very long time," he replied gravely.
"So that is why elves tend to keep to themselves and their kin," Gimli mused. "I used to think it was pride."
"It is self-preservation." Legolas smiled wryly. "But let us not speak about such somber matters. Today we shall drink and be joyous!" He raised his goblet. "For the king!"
"For the king!"
Kat had listened to the conversation in silence, feeling a chill trickle down her spine as the pieces of the puzzle suddenly began to fit: Legolas' ambiguous behavior towards her, at the same time keeping her at a distance and keeping her close; his guilt about looking at her... His envy of the half-elven twins.
If he fell in love with a mortal she would die and leave him alone, and unlike Elrohir and Elladan he couldn't follow her to the afterlife. Was he guarding himself from feeling too much?
She suddenly recalled Lord Námo's words before she left: When the right moment cometh, thou shalt speak thus to him... How could she have forgotten to convey the message? It might be just what Legolas needed to hear.
But not now. Legolas was right; today was a day of celebration. When things had calmed down she would talk to him and deliver the message.
A/N:
What do you think Námo's message might be?
Image Credits:
Screenshot from The Lord of the Rings movies.