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22 June 3018

Boromir cast a glance around the great hall, inwardly groaning when he saw his father boasting about "Gondor's most beloved son" as he cut a path through the crowd. The roaring laughter only intensified as Lord Denethor approached, his eyes meeting boromir's from across the hall. The Steward was draped in his customary black velvet robes,

The black of his clothes and the white of his long hair set him apart from the other revelers and made him part of the white marble floors and black stone pillars of the Hall. He looked to be every inch the ruler of the great hall.

"Brother, come with me." Faramir's hand urgently came down on Boromir's shoulder, pulling until they were both hidden behind a pillar. "Go." Faramir nodded at the door- partially hidden behind a recently commissioned tapestry depicting Boromir single-handedly slaying a host of orcs. Their father had taken liberties and doubled the number of enemies while paring the Gondorian forces from twenty to one. What had been a reasonable victory on the battlefield had been memorialized as an awe inspiring feat.

"I would not leave you alone with Father, Faramir." Boromir protested, shaking his head in anger at their father's treatment of his younger brother.

"He would not spare me a glance if I was the last man left in Gondor." Faramir said with forced laughter. "Go, brother! Do not waste your last few days in Gondor among these men, listening to their empty words." Faramir pushed him toward the door. "Go!"

Boromir shot his brother a grateful smile over how shoulder and slid through the door. One long hallway and three sharp turns led him out to the gardens. The world he entered was peaceful and green, a stalk relief against the world he has just left. No drunk men or spilled ale here, only the faint echoes of laughter and music disturbed the calm among the trees.

He followed the meandering paths of the garden, hands clasped at his back as he breathed in the warm night air. The stars above him twinkled, calling him deeper into the quiet. He enjoyed his moments of stolen time- Faramir was the only person who had seen him suffocating at the feast. The only man there who knew exactly what Boromir yearned for- solitude.

Faramir was the one he would miss when he left for Rivendell, not his father, not the prettily scented ladies at court. He would miss his brother more than anyone except for-her. She sat at the edge of the marble fountain, looking out toward the city of Osgiliath. She turned at the sound of leaves crunching beneath his boots, eyes lighting up with warmth when she saw his face.

She stood and swept into a graceful curtsy, dropping her gaze as custom dictated. "My Lord Boromir," She straightened with a smile, "I was beginning to lose all hope of seeing you this evening."

"Ameria," Boromir breathed, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. "You need never curtsy before me, you know that."

She smiled against his tunic "I did not know if we were alone." She pulled back to look at him and ran her palms up his sleeves, "I will cease the moment we are officially betrothed, my love." Her warm hands gripped the material of his shirt and tugged him close for a kiss.

Just as Boromir began to deepen the kiss, she pulled away, laughing and took his hand, pulling him to the edge of the garden, where a low wall looked out over Pelennor Fields.

Ameria took a seat on a bench and turned to face him as he sat beside her. "Rumors of your victory have run rampant throughout the White City," She arched an eyebrow leaned against the back of the bench, arm resting on the wood. "Last I heard, from Lord Denethor, I believe, you slew every orc in Osgiliath." She shook her head at the exaggerated account of Boromir's victory. "Then you piled them in a heap and proclaimed victory for Gondor."

Boromir slumped in his seat, drawing a hand over his weary face and letting his eyes fall shut. "He does not give Faramir, or the loyal men of Gondor, an ounce of credit. He speaks as if I, alone, could vanquish the very armies of Mordor."

Ameria slid close to him and grasped his hand, pulling it into her lap. The hand resting at the back of the bench gently snuck into his hair, sifting the fair strands between her fingers. She rested her cheek against his broad shoulder and spoke quietly, "You are your father's hero; his pride and his joy."

"Is that not wrong?" Boromir asked with a wry laugh, "Instead of me looking upon my father as a hero, that he should see me as one?"

"Should our parents not find strength in us?" Ameria responded, "Should we not give them hope the way they once gave us hope when we were mere children?"

"That is not my qualm." Boromir shook his head, "I would have him look upon Faramir with the same love and adoration he bestows upon me. He should see his sons as equally worthy."

He felt her nod against his shoulder, "There is such sadness in Faramir's eyes. He stands in the back, in the shadows, to avoid your father's gaze and mocking words- but when I look upon him, I see a young child, yearning for his father's affection. You are also his hero, not only your father's." She nudged Boromir with a small smile.

"My deepest wish for Faramir is that he sees the value in himself rather than seeking for father's unwinnable praise. He is much kinder and more gentle-hearted than I." Pride shone in Boromir's voice. "As a child, he used to sit at Mithrandir's knee- telling tales of the creatures he had seen and drawing maps of far-off places from the old wizard's stories." He looked at Ameria with a frown, "He predicted our enemy's attacks at Osgiliath- he saved many men from from untimely deaths. Father did not even spare a glance at Faramir when I told him- rather he blamed him for the damages to the city caused by the battle."

Ameria hugged him closer with an arm around his shoulders. " He does not understand Faramir's nature or his heart. In you, he sees a version of what he could have been. A champion- one who would restore the glory of Gondor."

Boromir's fingers tightened around hers, "I am but a man! And a warrior, not a ruler. I search my mind hopelessly, looking for some way to change the fortunes of our people, and yet I have no answer." Boromir's voice shook with defeat. "All I see now is a slow end for this kingdom."

Ameria contemplated his words, searching for an honest response. She tilted her head in surprise when Boromir laughed and slid his arms around her waist to pull her into his lap. Giggling, she settled into his lap- first, brushing her skirts smooth; then wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"Let us not talk of war or disappointing fathers any longer." Boromir rested his forehead against hers and smiled.

"No?" She asked playfully, "Then I fear we have run out of conversation." She heaved an exaggerated sigh and shot Boromir a mournful look as she pulled away from him. Boromir's loud laughter echoed in the marble-walled garden as he tugged her back into his arms.

"If that is the case, my Lady- then I can think of something that does not require speaking." His eyes ran down her body with a heated gaze and he reached up to drag one finger across her collarbone. She shivered at the gentle sensation and grasped his upper arm, holding herself steady in his lap.

"Is that so? Will I enjoy this activity?" She replied with shaky bravado. "Oh!" A tiny gasp left her lips as his lips traced the same path his finger had taken. His arms tightened about her waist as he pulled her closer. He gently nudged her neck and began laving kisses on the skin there when she tilted her neck to give him access. "My love, that feels so…" her whispered words trailed off into giggles as he reached her ear and nibbled at the delicate skin. She pulled her shoulders to her ears, trying in vain to protect her throat from the ticklish rasp of his beard. As he continued his attack, he laughed against her skin, warm breath disturbing her long, dark hair.

"I think you just might," he spoke against her ear. Her fingers grasped his hair, tightening when his tongue swept against the curves of her lobe.

"I just might what?" She whispered in a dazed voice, completely unable to remember what she has asked moments earlier. She abandoned any hope of receiving an answer when Boromir's lips slanted over hers. He claimed her in a possessive kiss. His tongue stroked at her lips, then against her tongue while his warm palms spanned her back, one sliding into her hair and maneuvering her head. He swallowed her moans and gasps, leaving her light-headed and aching for more.

Ameria gently pressed one palm against his chest, pushing him a few inches. She rested her forehead against his and brought her fingers up to play with the ties of his vest. As the summer night air settled around them, she spoke in a quiet voice, "I love you more than anything, Boromir." Her hands slid up to his cheeks, cradling his face as she kissed him.

His cheeks tightened under her palms as he smiled against her lips. The warmth of his fingers burned through the heavy velvet of her gown as he stroked her waist. Pulling away, he gazed across Pelennor Fields and Osgiliath at the shadowed mountains of Mordor. He looked disturbed by the nearness of the threat. A frown overcame his face as he contemplated the task his father has appointed him after their victory at Osgiliath It was no short journey to reach Rivendell. And Boromir did not want to consider the magnitude of the events that might unfold at the Elvish Kingdom. Especially not now, not with the woman he loved sitting on his lap, professing her love for him. He turned back to her, looking into her lovely eyes, unaware that his expression was frozen in a frown.

She smiled at him and smoothed her fingers over the troubled lines in his face, caressing his worries away. "I feel as though you carry the weight of the world on these shoulders," her hands slid to his shoulders and squeezed the unyielding muscle. "Broad as they may be, they cannot bear the burden alone. Let me share your worries."

Boromir dropped his forehead to her collarbone and shook his head, sighing when her fingernails scraped against his scalp as she combed through his hair. "Shall I tell you my most pressing worry?" He felt her nod silently and continued, "It is that when I ask you to marry me in a moment's time, you will say no." Her fingers froze mid-motion. Every additional second that passed without any response from her sent Boromir into a deeper state of panic. Just as he was about to beg her forgiveness for the indelicate nature of his proposal, she spoke.

Her voice was cool and collected, seemingly unperturbed by his declaration. "It seems more prudent to ask rather than to worry unnecessarily, no?"

Boromir smiled against her skin and pulled back to look at her. Her glowing eyes betrayed her excitement. "You are, without a doubt," he stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, "the love of my life." His hand delved into her hair and combed through the long strands. "I do not want to live in a world where I do not wake up to this lovely smile every day." He leaned forward to kiss her smile. "I cannot imagine a future in which you and I do not belong to one another." He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to the backs of her fingers. "Will you tell me you will marry me and end my misery now?" His other hand opened between them, presenting a delicate ring of gold and glittering stones.

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, hastily pulling back to whisper, "yes!" Before leaning in again, raining down kisses on his lips, his cheeks and anywhere else she could reach.

Boromir's arms tightened around her as he laughed against her cheek before suddenly releasing her, "Give me your hand," he demanded, in his most noble voice. She slid her palm into his, cheeks pink with joy as slid the ring onto her finger, then kissed it. "Now, as you promised, you much stop curtsying before me."

She placed her palm over his heart, ring glinting under the starlight, and teased him, "You are full of commands now, my Lord."

"I could never command you, I can only request." He said, warmed by her smile, "I am yours to command however you please."

"Is that so?" She stroked his beard with her fingertips, "Then I command that you kiss me again."

His smile widened into a grin as he pulled her closer with one hand at her cheek. "Ah, that is one order I shall have no trouble following." His lips brushed against hers lightly- once, twice, three times, before she became impatient and dug her fingers into his rich leather vest. He laughed against her lips and slid one hand to her hair, tilting her head and kissing her with renewed urgency. His warm palms stroked her back as his tongue battled hers. Slowly, he brought one palm around to her front, sliding up until he reached the curve of her breast. His thumb caressed her through the soft velvet of her gown, her gasps music to his ears.

She gripped his arms, delirious by his touch, and frowned in dismay as he pulled away from her lips. Her disappointment soon turned to gasps of pleasure as he turned his attentions to her neck. The insistent press of his lips and occasional swipe of his tongue turned to wet, open-mouthed kisses as he made his way down her throat. His tongue stroked against her pulse, forcing a gasp from her lips, then he sucked the skin there, attempting to leave a mark, laughing when she pushed him away to chastise him.

"You cannot!" She slapped at his shoulder, "People will see!"

He pressed his lips to her ear and growled, "then I shall leave one where no one but you will see."

Her fingers curled into his shoulders in anticipation as his lips ran along the edge of her gown, stopping at the swell of her breast. He looked up at her with dark eyes as he hooked one finger in the gown tugged the velvet down, revealing her clear, bright skin. He stopped before he exposed her fully and laved the skin with his tongue before gently scoring with his teeth. Her fingers slid to his hair, fisting the smooth strands to hold his head in place as he opened his lips and sucked.

"Oh!" She gasped, her eyes falling shut in pleasure. "Please!" She whispered as his beard rubbed against her sensitive skin. She unconsciously arched her back, pushing her breast against his lips. He finished and pulled back an inch, smiling in pride when he saw the beginnings of the angry red bloom on her skin. Adjusting her gown, he sat back and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Ameria, my love. Let us marry soon."

"We shall," she leaned her head in kissed his forehead, "as soon as you want."

"Tomorrow."

She pulled back in confusion, "Tomorrow? My love, you are the Steward's son- your wedding must be grand."

"I do not want that," he shook his head, "All I want is to call you my wife."

"And you shall," she reasoned with him. "Yet even we much follow tradition."

A strange look came over his face as he emphatically spoke, "We are at the edge of a war, Nothing is certain now." He pressed his lips to her shoulder. "I would marry you before this world turns to chaos."

"In a fortnight." She spoke against his hair, "it will be sufficient time for preparations."

"I must leave Gondor in twelve days." He shook his head empathically. "I know not when I shall return."

"Leave? For where?" She brought a hand to his cheek and turned his face up to hers.

"My father has commanded me to attend a gathering in Rivendell." Boromir brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed the backs of her fingers. "I shall leave at the start of next month." He turned her hand over and pressed a warm kiss to her palm.

Ameria's eyes narrowed in confusion, "But that is so soon. You have only just returned!"

"I must go. It is a gathering of men, and elves, and dwarves. We must discuss the growing threat of Mordor." His gaze darkened as he looked over her shoulder at the shadowed land. The silence hung heavy between them for a few moments, each lost in thought.

"Tomorrow, then." She agreed with a decisive nod as his eyes shot back to hers. "We must speak to our families this evening."

"Together." He took her hand in his much larger one.

28 June 3018

And so, on the 28 day on June, in the Third Age of men- Boromir, Son of Denethor II and Finduilas, wed Ameria, daughter of Hatholdir and Túrel. It was not a grand affair, but rather an intimate gathering of family and loved-ones. A simple ceremony of love and promise. Riders were sent in all directions, from Dol Amroth to Rohan, telling the world of the union.

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What do you all think? I'm going to write a second chapter soon but leave a review to tell me your thoughts/opinions!

-MO-