Bring me to life

Chapter 14

  It was but an half hour after the breakfast that Théoden, accompanied by Eomer and Theodred, entered the little hall where Lord Denethor had summoned them.

The lord himself was already there, sitting on an armchair with his firstborn. But even to a not so keen eye, it was evident that there was some tension between them.

"Lord Denethor. I hope we’re not too late".

"Of course you're not." Denethor replied, hinting a smile. "But please, have a seat."

Boromir said nothing, nor did he greet them in any way. Just having been forced to have his breakfast with them was enough for him.

Eomer for his part continued to look grimly at him. He just had to accept the fact that the maiden would be in Rohan within the next week. Boromir just had to cope with it, for he wouldn’t certainly have stepped aside, leaving the maiden there.

She was way too beautiful to be lost like this. And he had dreamed of her for the whole night.

"So tell me, my Lord" Denethor began, leaning back on his armchair and eyeing Théoden curiously. "What do your youths here think of our maiden? Do you still intend to take her to Rohan with you?"

"Of course" the king nodded, while Eomer hinted a devilish smile at his words.

"I’ve never seen such a beautiful creature. Hadn’t she been found in Gondor I would certainly have said that she could be an elf".

"Indeed. She’s way too perfect to be human" Eomer added, remembering the elves he had met in Rohan.

"But…tell me, Lord Boromir. Is she good in the art of love? Or you have to handcuff her? For I would be more than willing to use every technique to have her surrender."

At those words Boromir had to count to ten and clench his teeth in order to restrain the urge to punch the arrogant git senseless.

"I do not see her the way you suggest." he almost growled, staring steadily at him. "Do not speak of her in such a fashion."

"Yet many servants have told me that she has been sleeping in your room since you came back." Denethor pointed out quietly, folding his arms across the chest. "And she was supposed to be a gift for Faramir."

"It should not be your concern what takes place behind closed doors, father."

"Yet it is. She is here because I've paid for it."

Theoden exchanged a quick glance with his son, sighing softly.

"And…pray, tell me, Lord Boromir. How do you see her? You can’t deny the fact that she’s been bought. And that she’s been…deflowered by your brother, as a gift for his birthday. How should we see her? A maiden who sleeps with men not for love but because she’s been paid for. A maiden who sleeps with men without even being married".

"I am in love with her" Boromir replied promptly, staring challengingly at the King of Rohan. "And she's in love with me. We'll be married very soon, fear not."

Denethor was evidently still trying to register his son's words, staring blankly at nothing. A few moments later he shook his head resolutely, and stood.

"I will not have my heir married to a whore."

Of course Boromir, too, got up immediately at such an offence. "She is not a whore!"

Standing up, King Théoden and his kin, looked worriedly at the two.

"Maybe it’s better if you two have a word alone. I must speak to my nephew and son. We’ll be in the gardens" said the king, before to exit the room, followed by an utterly astonished Eomer and a disgusted Theodred.

Denethor followed them with his gaze, to look at a fuming Boromir again once they were gone.

"She is a whore, Boromir, face it." he said calmly, trying to knock some sense into him, though he was aware that his was a hard task indeed. He knew his son well enough by then. "And you are a noble born, you are to rule the grandest kingdom of Men. That bond of yours is not meant to be."

"Then Faramir will rule your cursed kingdom, if that is what troubles you the most!" Boromir snapped angrily, raising his voice and still staring at him.

"Do not use that tone with me, Boromir." Denethor retorted then, his patience evidently coming to an end. "I am not one of your scruffy subordinates."

"Indeed you are not. You always claim to take decisions that should be only my own to make."

Sighing deeply Denethor shook his head, and walked to the window after another lingering look at his seething son.

"You have always been very rash and stubborn, Boromir. I wish only the best for you, and now you are too blind to see that she will be your doom."

"She will be my wife." Boromir corrected promptly, "whether you will agree or not."

Said that he uttered not another word and stalked to the door, leaving Denethor alone to look out of the window. To look at the gardens, like he used to do every morning many years before. When his young, blithesome wife used to have her usual walk in the fresh forenoon air with their newborn Boromir in her arms. Smiling at him, fondling and kissing the little creature with the utmost tenderness, as if he indeed was a gift from the Valar themselves. Later on she would walk hand in hand with the fair child, her other arm bearing their second born, beautiful in the beaming brightness of her youth.

Many years had passed from then, but the grief was still there. Unwavering and relentless. He found himself wondering if Boromir would have been likely to feel that same grief if parted from his beloved. For now it was clear, yes, now it was clear that he loved her deeply. It was clear that he would not surrender so easily, he would not let her go. He would rather die than lose her.

The Steward's head was suddenly spinning. And his knees were threatening to give away. He walked unsteadily to the couch and settled himself down, his head bent and held in his hands, praying the Valar. Praying so that he could take the right decision for his beloved son, and see him happy as he used to be when is wife was still at his side.

Eomer was observing quietly as his uncle was nervously walking up and down a little path in the gardens, clearly worried and unsettled. Boromir’s revelation had left them open mouthed, but even if his body was screaming for her, his heart couldn’t ignore the fact that she belonged to another man. And Eomer would have followed his heart, as always. The Rohirrim had always known Lord Boromir as selfish and rude with women, one that cared only for his well being. But the expression he had seen in his eyes that morning, the burst of rage when his father had offended his maiden, could mean just one thing. Love. And he knew it for sure, because he had seen all those signs on another person. Theodred.

His cousin was sitting on a bench, unmoving, his head buried between his hands. Eomer knew what was grieving him.

Some years ago, Theodred had been in love with a fair maiden. A blond, smiling and tender girl, which everyone into the Golden Hall cared for. Eledrin, that was her name, was not of the blood. She was the daughter of one of his uncle’s subordinates, one of those men who administrated some plots of land, on behalf of the king himself.

They had met one day in march, when her father had come to renew the ties of alliance that his house held to the king. It had been love from the first time their eyes had met. Eledrin hadn’t been accepted at once from Théoden, who had tried to get rid of the girl, as Denethor himself was trying to do with his son.

But their love story had continued, even if it had to be secret.

Unfortunately, the fate had been hostile. One night while Eledrin was going unseen into the Golden Hall, to reach Theodred’s room, she had found two enemies. Two spies that were trying to kill the king.

It had been her screams that woke everyone up, and they had saved him.

One of the traitors threw a dagger, trying to escape. It hammered directly into Eledrin’s chest.

The healers tried to save her for the whole night, but she passed over at dawn.

From that day, Theodred had sworn to never fall in love again. To use just sexual slaves.

However, Eomer was sure that the look in his eyes meant just one thing. When he raised his head to look at him, the rohirrim nodded, glancing at his uncle.

"We don’t want her anymore, father" Theodred then declared, looking straight at him.

The king stopped his walking, and met his eyes. It was clear that he, too, was thinking to Eledrin.

"I agree. And I was sure you would have taken this decision. It’s really worthy of you. I don’t want to be the cause of Boromir’s grief. For I’ve done enough wrongs for one life".

Sighing deeply, Eomer stood up, adjusting his long blonde hair.

"You will have to tell it to the Steward, before the situation become worse" he said, walking to the path. "I’m going to have a ride. Do you want to come with me?"

"Yes, I need it" Theodred murmured, standing up and following him.

Faramir started when someone knocked vigorously at the door. It was Boromir's kind of knocking, though. Or Denethor's.

The young man rose from the couch, handing the book he was reading to Kreshen, and neared the door almost caustiously. "Who is it?"

"Your brother."

Sighing with relief Faramir unlocked the door, and opened to a quite gloomy Boromir.

"I am tired of this. We will leave tonight."

"Leave?"

"I will not have her handed to those.." Boromir began, only to stop abruptly and sigh deeply, running a hand through his blond hair. "There is just no hope. Not while we stay here."

At his words, Kreshen exchanged a quick glance with Faramir, nearing Boromir and silently hugging him tight, caressing his back in a soothing manner, trying to calm him.

"I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to cause you all those troubles… You should stay there, for you’re an honoured captain, the heir of a great kingdom…."

"Faramir will have my place. It would fall to ruin within months, my Gondor, should I rule it without you by my side" he murmured, his voice slightly muffled by the soft fabric of Kreshen's dress. "Grief ain't the best of counselors."

"I’m sorry…" the girl just replied, sighing deeply and tightening the embrace, glancing at Faramir as if to ask for his help.

"Boromir.." the young man sighed then, placing a reassuring hand on his brother's broad shoulder. "Why don't you tell father that.. that you love her? He would not send her from our house if he knew, I'm sure. Nobody is that heartless.."

Boromir had to hold back a bitter laugh at his words. Or the urge to cry all of his tears. "You overestimate him, then. He knows."

"He... knows? Merciful Valar.."

In that moment someone knocked at the door. Without thinking twice, Kreshen left Boromir, opening the door, more than ready to face that evil man.

But instead of Denethor, the girl looked into King Théoden’s eyes, instinctively backing away, fearing that he was there to take her away.

"I mean no harm" the king quietly reassured them. "I just…want to talk…"

"Talk about what?" Boromir barked, taking Kreshen in his arms as if to shelter her and staring angrily at the King. "There is nothing to talk about."

"I don’t want her anymore" replied the other one."And I’m a king, you shouldn’t address me like this! I don’t want to divide you, but I need to understand something before to go and talk to your father".

Boromir sighed deeply at his words, his features softening the tiniest bit, but yet he didn't let go of Kreshen, nor did he excuse himself.

"Speak then."

"Sit down, please" he asked then, entering the room and hinting a smile in seeing Faramir.

"I want to tell you about my wrongs. About what I did to cause everlasting grief to my beloved son. And…even if it’s not a justification for my behaviour towards this maiden… well…I wanted to buy her to give to Theodred a little bit of happiness…hoping that he would forgive me…"

"So this is what the whole matter is about." Boromir began sternly, sitting on the couch with Kreshen on his lap. "Giving maybe a little bit of happiness to someone you love and be a woe to other people. Guiltless people. Grand would have been your craft, Théoden King."

A quiet Faramir sat down too, laying a hand on his brother's arm as if to calm him down. "Let him speak, Boromir. Do not judge unfairly."

"Theodred… was in love with a maiden that was not of the blood" Théoden began, ignoring Boromir’s speech, looking pensively at the fire in the fireplace. "I tried to get rid of her, as Denethor is trying to do with Kreshen. But their love story continued. Eomer and Eowyn helped their stealthy meetings. One night… she saved me from two spies. She was just there when they were trying to suffocate me. And…she was hit by a dagger. My healers trying to save her for the whole night, but…she died at dawn. After atrocious sufferings. I’ll never forgive myself for what I did. Theodred will never be the same. Never. When he goes to battle the enemy it is…as if he tries to die. For he doesn’t care about his life. I didn’t know you were in love with that maiden. And I want to help Denethor avoid choseing the wrong path as I did".

Even Boromir had to lower his gaze at Théoden's tale. Without noticing he had tightened the embrace, holding Kreshen against his firm chest, his right hand stroking her back and occasionally lingering to twiddle with a strand of her soft hair.

"I am sorry, for I didn't know. But I fear that father will not step back so easily."

"To lose a son is a great grief" Théoden stated firmly. "But to have him as dead, to see the accusation and the blame in his eyes everytime he looks at me… it’s even worse, believe me".

Said that, he flashed another quick glance to the couple, sighing deeply. There was no need to ask them if they really were in love. It was evident.

"I must go now. I want to have a word with your father. Thanks for attention" the king said, standing up and walking to the door.

A moment later he was gone, and Kreshen looked questioningly at the two brothers.

"I am sure that father will listen to him." Faramir alleged solemnly, trying to reassure the two at least a bit. The very last thing he wanted was to have his beloved brother and Kreshen forced to flee from their home. Flee like two thieves into the night, when their only fault was to be in love with each other.

"I wish I could have half of your endless hope, little brother." Boromir murmured, "I just cannot see a happy ending this time."

"Do you think we should prepare our things?" Kreshen asked then, lowering her eyes to the floor, a sad note in her voice.

Boromir nodded, still clutching at her, and closed his eyes as he rested his forehead on his beloved's shoulder."We will, we must have everything set before dinner. Just let me hold you for a while."

Later that day, when two servants brought their meal, none of them ate and the tray was soon forgotten on the table, untouched. Boromir and Kreshen were laying on Faramir's bed, her head resting on her lover's chest, as the young man read out loud one of his favorite novels. He stopped abruptly, though, when someone knocked decidedly at the door. He glanced worriedly at the two as Boromir dragged himself up and propped up on his elbows, following Faramir with his gaze as he abandoned the book and stood to walk to the door. He faltered for some moments before opening, and his eyes grew wide when Denethor himself appeared on the doorframe.