By Adara

Boromir was standing beside a pool that shimmered with the light of a thousand stars. He remained as still as Bilbo's stone trolls, staring sightlessly at his reflected image. His mind, however, was working furiously, going over and over the words spoken by Haldir earlier in the evening. The still of the night was broken only by the man's tormented muttering.

Boromir was too deeply in thought to hear Pippin's quiet approach. The young hobbit stood a few feet behind the tall man, waiting to be noticed. When Boromir continued to be unaware of his presence, Pippin cleared his throat and tapped one of his large hobbit's feet upon the ground. Boromir's head jerked up sharply and his hand withdrew the dagger at his waist as he whirled about to confront a very frightened Halfling. Pippin stood frozen, his mouth agape, staring at the long dagger still stained with Eledwhen's blood. Recognizing his visitor, Boromir relaxed, smiled rather self-deprecatingly and began to sheathe the weapon. "Never sneak up on a soldier unless you are prepared for the consequences, Master Hobbit. Is there something amiss? You are very pale."

Pippin's eyes were locked upon the blade. The blood on it looked black in the moonlight, like orc's blood. Boromir frowned at the hobbit's expression, then shifted his own gaze to the weapon in his hand. Horrified at what he saw, the man dropped the dagger as though it burned him. "I am cursed! All I do goes awry! How can I help you and your friends when I cannot see what is so plainly beneath my nose and help my own wife? You should go and seek more worthy friends." Boromir turned as though to leave; Pippin rushed forward, grabbed the large man's right leg and began to cry.

"You are wrong! You are not cursed. It is your father who hurt the Princess, not you. No one blames you."

Boromir laughed softly and shook his head. "Ah, you have been listening to conversations not meant for your ears. If only what you say were true, little one; however, I fear I have been tried and found guilty. The Elves must love Eledwhen very deeply to have allowed me to return. In the Lord Celeborn's place, I would have given orders to have me shot on sight." Pippin looked extremely distressed.

"You are not going to leave us, are you? Please say you will continue with the Fellowship! We need you… I need you. You are not your father. You would never harm anything that could not defend itself. I know you are a good man! Please, come with me back to the city. You can sleep in me and Merry's room. Everything will be all right. You'll see. Please, Boromir."

The man of Gondor looked at the Hobbit's upturned face and read the distress so openly displayed upon it. The young creature's eyes were wide and pleading. Boromir closed his own eyes and sighed deeply before opening them again. Slowly he went down on one knee before Pippin. "You are very persuasive, young Halfling. Do you not fear me? You saw me fight with your friend, Strider, and cut my wife with this very dagger. Am I not despicable in your eyes?"

Pippin lunged forward and attempted to place his arms around the man's wide shoulders. Boromir's face registered surprise, then a quiet relief. "I will always be your friend." Pippin's voice was muffled against the man's chest. "There is nothing you could do to change that."

Boromir wrapped his arms about the small hobbit and placed his chin atop the curly head. A warning chimed deep within the recesses of his brain. The man frowned momentarily, then relaxed as the nagging feeling of doom melted away in the warmth of Pippin's love. They remained thusly for long moments before Boromir became aware of another presence. "Pippin," he began, but became silent as he felt the identity of the newcomer. "Pippin, would you leave us alone?"

The hobbit looked up at the man, a frown creasing his smooth features. Boromir indicated the presence of Eledwhen with a slight sideways nod of his head. Pippin turned and saw the girl standing motionless at the edge of the clearing. Quickly he drew away from the man, then bowed formerly. "My lady. I was just leaving." Eledwhen smiled kindly at Pippin, causing him to blush. He ducked his head and scurried away. Boromir tracked the hobbit's progress until he was out of sight. It took a lot of willpower for him to look at his wife, then slowly he rose and waited for her to speak.

"I am sorry you found out this way, husband. I meant to tell you. I tried many times but could not force the words from my mouth. I was too ashamed. He is your father. I would not blame you if you hate me, for I am not worthy to be your wife." Boromir had been prepared to hear many things, but the revelation of her feelings of shame stunned him.

"No, it is I who am unworthy of you. It was my duty to ensure your safety within Minas Tirith and instead I became drunk, behaved shamefully toward you at the feast of our betrothal, and allowed a member of my family to harm you. I do not blame you for what happened, for you were but a lamb among lions. It was my honor that was lost -- an honor I was unable to redeem during our journey. I am sworn to protect the innocent and have failed miserably. I would not blame you if you hate me and wish to return to Rohan. Our marriage is not binding under your law or mine and so I release you from your father's promise. You are free to go where you please and do as you please." Boromir waited with bowed head for Eledwhen to speak. When she did not, he looked up and saw her standing as though frozen, her eyes focused upon the gleaming pond. She was as pale as death.

* * * * * * * * *

Eledwhen was soaring far above the Golden Wood, her body weightless on a gentle breeze that bore her southward toward Edoras. Home, she thought. I am going home. Although it was winter she could not feel the icy breath of the Misty Mountains that rose behind her and to the west, or the sting of the sleet that pelted her as it fell heavily to earth. She felt warm and incredibly happy.

As the Princess continued to ride the strong winter wind, the terrain flattened into the rolling grasslands of Rohan. Far in the distance, beyond the Gap of Rohan and no more than a mere speck on the horizon, she could see Edoras and the golden glow of Meduseld. Her heart began to beat rapidly at the thought of seeing her brother and father again.

A sudden wild gust of wind swept her westward toward Isengard. No longer the gentle breeze that had caressed and cheered her, this wind became increasingly violent the nearer it came to the wizard's fortress. Upon it rode fell voices that caused tendrils of fear to wrap about Eledwhen, numbing her senses. Gradually the sound of the voices sharpened into words Eledwhen could understand, and she could catch fragments of a conversation. The Prince shall not be as lucky the next time, my Uruks will see to that... battle at the Fords of the Isen… the Prince dead and the old King firmly under my control… When Théoden dies, Rohan will be mine… the prize you desire… Éowyn.

"No! They plot to kill my brother… and Éowyn! Surely this is Gríma's voice I hear, but to whom does he speak? I must know more. Eledwhen strained to hear the voices again, but they were completely drowned out by the rising wind's malevolent hiss. "Please," she cried aloud. "Please, I have to know. I have to warn Théodred!" The Princess began to believe she would go mad with frustration until a soothing voice spoke her name, like a gentle touch upon her mind.

"Do not be afraid, my darling one. I am with you."

"Your brother is safe enough -- for now. But you must know that Wormtongue covets your cousin, Éowyn, as well as the throne and the power that goes with it. Long he has planned the death of your brother and father and, after them, Éomer will die. You must return home immediately. Tarry no longer in the Golden Wood. Ride out now with your husband, for Boromir is in mortal danger as long as he remains with the Fellowship." The wind began to die down and Eledwhen could no longer feel her mother's presence.

Mother, please, stay with me, for I cannot deal with such things alone. A warm gust of air touched her cheek, as soft as a mother's caress.

"I am with you always. Draw what strength you can from this knowledge and remember what I have told you. Leave now or it will be too late to save your brother."

Eledwhen reached out blindly, wanting desperately to touch her mother, but her fingers grasped only cold air. What if I fail? Rohan will fall and it will be my fault!

"Failure surely will bring death and despair, but I do not believe that such is your destiny. You are much stronger than you know, for the blood of your ancestors and mine runs like fire in your veins. Speak with Galadriel. My mother will help you, even though she will not wish to."

And if I do fail, what then? Eledwhen whispered.

"Come what may, I shall always be with you. Now hurry, for time is slipping away and your brother's life hangs but by the finest of threads."  

* * * * * * * * *

"Eledwhen. Eledwhen! What do you see? Wake up, girl, please." Boromir was definitely out of his depth. He had no idea how to deal with someone locked in a vision. He knew how to tend the wounded after a battle; he even had experience dealing with men so shocked by the horrors of war that they became totally unaware of their surroundings. Soldiers called these men "the walking dead." Sometimes they came back, and sometimes they did not. Eledwhen's vision, however, was very Elfish and totally beyond his experience. Not knowing what else to do, Boromir gripped his wife by the shoulders, pulled her against him and kissed her. He continued the kiss until he felt her respond to the embrace. At first he felt her body melt against his, then he felt her hands move over his arms. He pulled back from her and was elated to find her eyes focused.

"All you all right? What happened? Was it one of your visions?" Eledwhen blinked slowly, waiting for her sight to return to normal. She always felt disoriented and had difficulty readjusting to the real world after one of her visions. She smiled tentatively, then rose upon her toes and kissed Boromir's cheek.

"That was the most creative way anyone has used to pull me back," she said lightly.

"What did you see? You were so pale." Boromir raised a hand to caress her cheek but froze when he saw the desperate look on her face. "Eledwhen, tell me what is wrong."

The Princess gripped his hand tightly and relayed the part of the dream that concerned her father and brother. "We must leave Lórien now, this very night. I must warn Théodred and Father about Wormtongue's plans."

As Eledwhen began to leave, Boromir grabbed her and turned her around to face him. "How do you know this to be true? It is dangerous for us to travel alone and I shall not do so unless I am certain this was more than just a nightmare."

"Would you have me swear an oath that these things will come to pass? I cannot, for not all my visions are true ones. But I know in my heart that this one is true, and I will not risk my brother's life by ignoring my mother's warning."

Boromir looked at her kindly, but when he spoke his words cut through her like a knife. "Eledwhen, your mother is dead. She cannot speak to you. This vision may be the result of the fight you witnessed between Aragorn and me. And I cut you… Let me see the wound! I have been remiss in looking after your injury."

Eledwhen pushed away from him and shook her head. "It is nothing but a mere scratch. Everyone is making such a fuss over nothing. If you will not believe I must leave for Rohan immediately, I shall convince my grandmother to send someone to accompany me. But, truly Boromir, it is vital that you come with me. If you remain with the Fellowship you will die!"

Boromir looked stunned. He wasn't certain how he should respond to such a declaration. Hesitantly, he began, "Eledwhen, you don't know this."

"I do know this! If you accompany the Fellowship something terrible will happen and you will die. If I join you, mayhap I could prevent this fate, but then my brother would die. Please do not make me choose!" Boromir knew he could never convince her that the dream did not portend his fate.

"Let us speak with the Lord and Lady. They should be able to help you understand what you saw. But first, tell me exactly what happened in Minas Tirith. I will not take one step further until I know the entire truth." Eledwhen looked extremely uncomfortable and began twisting a lock of hair between her thumb and forefinger. Boromir had become well acquainted with this habit and knew it meant she was upset. This time, however, he would not budge on the matter. Too many others were privy to information he should have been the first to know. He unconsciously assumed his Captain's stance and gave her the look that had forced many a tale from reticent soldiers.

Eledwhen assessed his stern demeanor and knew she could keep him in the dark no longer. He had the right to know the truth, but she dreaded having to tell him. "It happened the night of the feast. Your father came to my room and said he wanted to apologize for your behavior. He asked me to pour him a glass of wine. I felt something was wrong -- something about the way he looked at me -- but he was the Steward of Gondor! I did not believe I could be in danger from your father." Although Boromir kept his emotions hidden behind his Captain's mask, Eledwhen could read the mounting horror in his eyes. She turned partially away from him and stared into the pond. 

"I cannot speak of the act itself. Neither of us could bear the telling of such details. I will say that he gave me a glass of wine drugged with a poppy elixir, and that he had his way with me while I was unconscious." The Princess said nothing more for several minutes. It was Boromir who finally broke the silence. Although his voice was gentler, it still carried the weight of command.

"You were not unconscious throughout the entire ordeal. This much I have gleaned from what Haldir has said. You must tell me everything. I cannot return to Minas Tirith without knowing the full truth of that night."

Eledwhen sighed deeply and tears began to fall from her eyes like a cleansing spring rain. It felt so good to finally share the burden with her husband. While Eledwhen recanted the events of that fateful night, Boromir remained at attention and expressionless. Only the many years of rigorous training kept him from breaking down and weeping. The horrors of his battles paled in comparison to the horror of what his father had done to his future daughter-in-law. When the tale was told and the Princess had fallen silent, Gondor's heir threw back his head and uttered a cry so fierce and terrible that all creatures that heard it ran in fear of their lives. Eledwhen fell to her knees, covered her ears with her hands, and sobbed until her chest hurt and her lungs ached for lack of air.

Finally, Boromir spoke. "I will take you to Edoras. When I deem it safe to leave you, I shall travel alone to my city. What will happen when I see my father, I cannot say, but I will not place you in harm's way a second time."

Eledwhen remained on her knees, looking up at her husband hopefully. "Then we shall leave on the morrow?"

Boromir shook his head. "Nay, you and I shall remain with the Fellowship until the time our paths take different turns. It will be safer for you."

The Princess rose quickly and looked at her husband in disbelief. "You cannot continue with the Fellowship! Have I not said that such a road will end in your death? We must leave without them. It is the only way!"

They argued back and forth for more than an hour, but neither would give up their position. Eledwhen finally realized it was useless to waste time arguing the point. Her husband's mind was set and there would be no changing it. "All right, my love. We shall travel with the Fellowship. But it must be soon. Time is of the utmost importance. Although I acquiesce to your wishes, I believe strongly that doing so will result in your death."