Oh, poor Boromir I sense that tragedy is close at hand for your lovely couple...
NOOOOOOOOOO!

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Teh most amazing quotes:



Wow. You always write the sweetest and most heartbreaking lines! Denethor is a huge, ginormous idiot. He thinks his son's wife should serve him? Self centered? I think so. Now I'm mad. I can't wait to see what happens next!

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i'm back for a little! i'll see how this visit goes.

Thanks, guys! I'm so glad you're following this story! And Silvery, I'm really happy you think I write nice quotes Hehe, I try my best! And nowww... part 9! Goldomir's farewell, the part of this tale I've been leading up to all along! Beware... it's very soppy! And, well... it makes me sad </3
Oh dear

~~~

Evening.
Boromir waited at his usual spot at the wall; the sun had already gone down over the Pelennor fields, and tiny stars dotted the sky like white specks on an inky blue background. Goldleaf was no longer able to meet him in early evening; they had to arrange a later time to see each other. But the view over the wall was just as beautiful in the late night; the moon was full tonight, and cast an eerie, beautiful glow over the white buildings of Minas Tirith.
Boromir clasped his hands over the rails on the wall, head bowed; he felt tense and pained. What he was about to do agonized him, yet he knew that he had to do it. He dreaded seeing Goldleaf’s vibrant smile fade, the light die in her eyes as he told her. Yet this was his decision, and he had to stick to it, however painful; and he had to do this tonight, else stretch out the situation even longer, and prove it even more sorrowful for both of them.
Suddenly, he heard Goldleaf’s quiet footsteps coming up the steps from behind him. He turned, heart jolting; she lifted her head and smiled at him, and he knew that there was no other smile more beautiful in the world to him. She was clad in a light blue cloak, and white skirts glimmered through the opening. As she walked towards him, she lifted her hood from her head; her golden hair was twisted back at the front, the rest left to lie free over her shoulders.
“It’s so good to see you,” she said, going forward to hug him. He turned and her expression immediately dimmed in it’s light.
“What’s wrong?” she said, walking closer towards him. “Boromir?”
He looked over his shoulder. Perhaps this would be easier if he acted as if he simply didn’t care; if she thought he had never loved her, maybe it would not hurt so much. But he couldn’t do that to her. He had to let her know the real reason why they had to part.
“Goldleaf,” he said, quietly. “I have to… I have to tell you something.” His tone was numb with grief, and as he walked towards her he wondered how on earth he should go about breaking her heart.
“What is it?” she looked at him with a mounting dread. He looked so very grim, so very saddened. What was wrong? She could not understand why he seemed so unhappy. Yet deep within her there was a dawn of understanding that tonight would not go as well as she had hoped when she had walked up the steps and saw him standing there.
He reached out and took her hand. He looked at her pale hand lying on his, so slender, so fragile, like a fold of flower petals that he just might break by sheer accident. He slowly looked up from her hand to her face. Anguish shone in her blue eyes.
“This has to end,” he said.
“What?” she shook her head. “What?” she repeated. “What are you talking about?” her tone took on a frantic edge. She clasped his hand. “Tell me this isn’t what you mean,” she whispered.
“It is,” Boromir said. “I have to let you go, Goldleaf. We cannot see each other anymore.”
“No,” she said. “No,” she said again, louder this time. “You don’t mean it, you can’t mean it. What has changed since last night? What has changed since we stood there…” she pointed to the wall beyond, “…and held each other? You cannot mean this.”
“I do mean it,” Boromir said, his voice unutterably grieved. “But not for the reasons you think, Goldleaf. Listen to me.” He looked at her. “Listen to me. I will never make you happy.”
“Yes, you will!” Goldleaf cried. “You do! You make me happy every day. You have made me happier than I have ever known since the day I first met you. How can you tell me that you will never bring me joy?”
“Because I can’t,” he said simply. “Believe it. Believe me, Goldleaf, I would have taken you as my wife, my one and only love. I would have kept you safe, I would have provided you with everything you’ve ever wanted for. I would have given you the life I know you deserve. But I cannot. Circumstances, as they are, forbid me.”
“What circumstances?” she said, very quietly, shaking her head. Tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to spill over and run down her cheeks.
“My life,” he said. “Everything about it. My life will always draw me away from you. I will always have to fight for my country, I will always have to obey my father, I will always have to be led further and further away from you. I cannot provide you with a happy, simple life. The one you dream of. Though I wish I could more dearly than you can imagine.”
“You don’t mean this,” Goldleaf said, brokenly. “You don’t. I love you, Boromir. I love you. You can’t just let me go. I would rather die than never see you again. You say you cannot make me happy. Well, I cannot be happy without you. I can never be joyful again without you.” She looked up at him pleadingly. “Please don’t leave me alone,” she said, her tone shaken with emotion.
“I have to,” Boromir said, gently lifting one hand up to her face. He tenderly stroked her hair, the golden strands framing her beloved features. “We cannot go on as we are, if it will lead nowhere. I cannot do that to you.”
She gave a small sob and covered her mouth with her hand. She was quite beyond herself; she could scarcely believe what she was hearing. How could perfect happiness so swiftly turn into such acute misery?
“I told you I would never give up on you,” she said, her voice slightly muffled.
“You must give up on me,” he said. “Forget me.”
With that, she dropped her hand from her mouth and placed her hands on either side of his face. “I will never forget you,” she said fiercely, looking deep into his eyes. At her words, tears filled Boromir’s own eyes and she threw her arms about his neck, embracing him as if she would never let him go, no matter who tried to tear them apart.
He hugged her back. He felt her tears seeping through the linen of his shirt and hugged her harder. Slowly, she pulled back to look at him. “Will you not change your mind?” she said, her voice so quiet that it was barely audible. This was her last attempt, her last attempt to keep him here with her.
It took all of Boromir’s strength to utter that one word. “No,” he said, and a tear ran down his cheek.
Trembling with her own sobs, Goldleaf leant forward. Her arms still about his shoulders, she kissed him. They both knew that this was their very last kiss. This was it. This was over, the joy they had known with each other. Memories went through both their minds as they held each other thus; memories of their discussions, their laughs, their smiles, their hugs, their kisses, their greetings… their goodbyes… and this was the last one.
He pulled back and very gently traced the outline of her cheekbone with one hand. “I will love you for the rest of my life,” he said. “But we cannot see each other, ever again.”
She closed her eyes, shaking, tears spilling from her eyes. “No,” she said softly. “No.” She wiped her cheeks. “Why never again?”
“I do not want to remind either of us of what we have given up,” he said. “The pain will surely prove too great.”
“But I will never give up thinking of you,” Goldleaf said, wearily. “I think of you day and night as it is. You are in my head when I wake up, when I go to sleep, all the day, and in my dreams.”
He shook his head and kissed her forehead. “I will see you in my dreams every night,” he said simply. “Perhaps we will meet each other there.” It was a small joke, a little joke, not enough to make her laugh. She looked at him.
“It will never be the same,” she said.
Very slowly, he stepped back, forcing Goldleaf to drop her arms from his shoulders. She watched him, tearful still. “I love you,” she said.
“And I you,” he said. “More than you will ever know.”
She stood there for a few moments, silently. “Don’t tell me to leave,” she said. “Don’t ever tell me to leave. Boromir…” she went forward but he did not open his arms to her, as he always did.
“Go, Goldleaf,” he said, trying to keep back his tears. “Please. Leave.”
“Don’t make me say goodbye!”
“You must,” he said. “Goldleaf, I would never say any of this if I did not love you. This is because I love you, it is all for that reason. Understand it. Tell me that you do.”
She remained silent again for a while, thinking. Would he be doing this if he did not love her? This could never possibly be an excuse; she could never think him capable of such deception towards her. It became very clear now that this was why he was telling her to say goodbye. He could never give her what she sought from him. He was first and foremost a soldier of Gondor, his father’s trusted general. He would never be able to lead a simple, peaceful life, with her.
“I do,” she said, her voice a thread of a whisper.
He nodded, a small, sad smile on his lips. Watching him a little while longer, Goldleaf gave him a final, equally sorrowful smile back. She went very slowly towards the steps, her feet dragging as she went. Her hand on the rail, she had to force her feet down the stairs. When she was on the last one, she suddenly turned, and lifted her hand.
It was lifted in farewell. She understood. She knew his reasons, properly now. Her smile still constant, trembling, he read everything into her gaze; that she loved him, she would always love him, but ultimately, she understood.
Her hand slowly dropped and she blew him a grief-stricken little kiss. He caught it in the air, half-jokingly, and held it to his heart. She looked at him for a little while longer, her eyes filled with torment. Then, very suddenly, she turned, and with a sweep of her sky-blue cloak, she disappeared round the corner, leaving Boromir alone, suddenly horribly very alone, and haunted with the ghost of her smile, which he longed to put back on her face; to race after her and make her smile again. But he could not. That had been their goodbye. That was it; their time together was over. He had told her not to come and see him again. And he knew that her heart was not the only one that was broken; his was in tatters, shattered into pieces, and he knew that it was he who had broken it for himself.

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~~Siggy by Lembas~~

I...I believe my eyes are a bit more moist than usual. Wow. You REALLY outdid yourself with this one! It's so sad that he had to break her heart while he still felt so deeply for her!

Notable quotes that did something strange to my heart:


Yeah, reading over that was just like going through my precious A/E farewell scene. It tugged at me. Excellent, excellent job.

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i'm back for a little! i'll see how this visit goes.

Please excuse me while I go into a corner and sob for a while...
I don't know how one could not be a rabid Goldomir fan after that part.

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Thanks so much for your lovely comments, guys! They mean so much <3 Now, here's part 10!

~~~

Goldleaf quietly walked into the kitchen of her house, her feet heavy. The door thudded shut behind her; there was a candle glowing on the table, and there her sister sat, waiting for her, as she always did every night. Goldleaf looked at Silverleaf with eyes that hardly saw at all; everything seemed faded but the pain in her heart.
Silverleaf frowned. “What’s wrong?” she rose from her seat, noting her sister’s expression and body language. “Goldleaf?” Goldleaf went past her without a word.
“I’m going to bed,” she said quietly. Silverleaf shook her head.
“Not until you tell me what happened.”
Goldleaf looked over her shoulder. “No. If I told you, you would crow. Say you were right. Say, ‘I told you so’. Tell me that I was a fool. And that I will not endure. Goodnight.”
She went through the door, leaving Silverleaf alone in the kitchen. She could not bear to talk about what had happened; Silverleaf had told her that he would break her heart, and now her heart was undoubtedly broken. The tears welled up in her eyes again. She felt half-dead. Making her way towards her bedroom, taking care to walk softly so as not to wake her parents, there was but one thought in her mind; Boromir.
Her bedroom door closed behind her and she sat on her bed. Hardly knowing what she was doing, she pulled off her boots and pulled her cloak from around her shoulders. Slowly, she curled up on her bed, laying her head on the pillow. She stared ahead of her, numb.
How could this be happening? How could he have made her leave? He knew that she could not possibly be happy without him. Didn’t he? Yet, contradictorily, she knew that his choice had been based on her happiness; she knew, despite herself, that they could not have worked. Not in the end, not whilst they led such two different lives.
She closed her eyes against the pain, tears seeping from under her eyelids. Very slowly, she fell asleep, and dreamt.

~~~
It was a beautiful spring day; the sky was bright blue and the air was heavy with the scent of blossom. All around her Goldleaf could see trees, beautiful with new life. She was in Ithilien, and there was neither sight nor sound of orcs or Haradrim there; it was utterly peaceful. And there were people; happy and glad, lined up in finery, looking at her.
She was clad in a beautiful white gown made of the finest silk; it had a pointed neckline and long, sweeping sleeves. The neckline and hem, and also around the sleeves, were embroidered with little silver flowers, and tiny, gleaming gems. Her golden hair was spread about her shoulders, and atop her head it was plaited with a circlet of lovely white flowers. There was a small gem at her throat which sparkled in the sunlight.
She had never felt more beautiful, or happier. The joy on the onlookers’ faces was reflected in her own. She turned, and suddenly, she saw Boromir standing there beside her, smiling at her. She had to conceal a little gasp; he was clad in the finest Gondorian garb, black and silver; the tunic was embroidered with the White Tree of Gondor. He looked so very handsome in his finery.
“Are you ready?” he whispered to her. She nodded, beaming. He smiled wider, and then he was setting a beautiful gold ring on her finger, her ring finger. She gazed up at him, mesmerized. There was a heavy band of gold lying in her own palm, and she set it on his finger, her eyes never leaving his face.
Then he bent down, and kissed her. Her arms went about his neck, and his hands gently cupped her face. She felt as if she was about to cry, she was so joyful. A cheer rose up from the crowd beyond, and she knew that she and Boromir were married. Bound to each other forever, promised to love one another forever.
As he pulled back from her, Goldleaf smiled at him, eyes shining with tears. “I promise I will love you like this for the rest of my life,” she said, very quietly, so that only he could hear.
“I promise exactly the same,” he said softly. “Until my dying breath.”
They both turned to look at the wedding guests, hand in hand. They went forward to walk through the arch of flowers. The air was full with the sound of laughter and happiness.
Boromir looked at Goldleaf.
“Are you happy?” he asked her.
“More happy than I have ever been in my life,” she replied.
“Good,” he said warmly. “Good.” He looked down at their entwined hands. “Husband and wife.”
“Yes,” she said, gladly. “Husband and… husband and…” suddenly, she felt an abrupt icy fear that he was about to let her go, that everything about them was fading. He looked at her intently.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
“I… I…” she gazed about her. The forest suddenly felt thin, fragile, as if it was barely there at all… “Don’t leave me!”
He laughed. “Why would I ever leave you?” he said. “We’re married now.”
“Will you always love me?” she said breathlessly, trying to clutch on to the last of this.
“Of course I will,” he said, even as he faded before her eyes. “For the rest of my life.”

~~~
Suddenly, Goldleaf’s eyes opened, and she was awake once more. Tears rippled down her cheeks as it hit home to her that it had all been just a dream, that she and Boromir would not be together for the rest of their lives. She sat up, clutching herself round her shoulders, shaking with uncontrollable sobs. He was gone. And he was never coming back to her. Their time was finished, done. But she was still left with the memory of him, the ghost of him. She still had to think about him. As she sat on her bed crying, she knew that she had lost him forever. The thought of that left her even more heartbroken; she did not know how she would ever mend this terrible blow whilst she still loved him, whilst she still held him dearer to her that any other living person.

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~~Siggy by Lembas~~

Okay, double post, but here is part 11!

~~~

The next day hit Goldleaf like a blow to the head as the morning sun shone through her curtains, and she blinked against the light. There was a soft knock on her bedroom door and she turned over, ignoring it. A few more insistent knocks, then the door opened and Goldleaf slowly sat up, raking her fingers wearily through her tangled hair.
She frowned blearily as Silverleaf stepped into the room, closing the door quietly behind her. “Have you heard of waiting?”
“You weren’t going to answer the door.” Silverleaf walked towards her bed, and Goldleaf looked away from her sister, not keen to sit through a lecture. For she knew that her elder sister was either going to lecture her, or ask questions. Questions that hurt too much to answer; that would probably go on hurting too much. She didn’t want to talk about him. She didn’t want to think about him at all. For the thought of Boromir remained constant in her head, the memory of last night twisting about in her heart till his words broke and shattered like icicles. She could not believe that she was not going to see him tonight.
“What happened last night?” Silverleaf sat on the edge of her bed. Goldleaf remained silent. But her sister did not move; she seemed quite determined, in her quiet way, to discover what had put Goldleaf into this mood.
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Tell me.”
“No!” Goldleaf, frustrated, turned round, an expression of raw anger taking a hold of her features. “Can you not understand, Silverleaf, I do not want to speak of it! Least of all do I want to speak of it to you in particular, you who always said that I could never be with him, you that said he would break my heart! Look at me and ask yourself, could I possibly want to speak to you? No!”
Silverleaf looked taken aback at Goldleaf’s furious tone. Her eyes had widened slightly, and her mouth was open as if she was trying to find words, but struggling. She shook her head, reaching out to Goldleaf with an unsure hand. “Goldleaf…”
“Leave me alone.” Goldleaf turned her back to her once more. She seized up her pillow and pressed it to her face to muffle the angry sobs that choked her throat. Her shoulders shook as she wept. “Just… leave me alone.”
Silverleaf put her hand on her shoulder. “Please tell me. It pains me to see you so distressed. Something must have happened last night between you and Boromir. I have never seen you so upset or angry.” Her voice was soft, and there was no hint of a taunt. Slowly, Goldleaf lowered the pillow from her face.
“Speak to me. Please.”
Goldleaf sighed and dropped the pillow. Reluctantly, she turned round and looked into Silverleaf’s pale blue-grey eyes. She took a deep breath, trying to keep back the tears from spilling over again. “He…” a sob shook her voice, “…he…”
Silverleaf remained silent, listening. Goldleaf looked at her, her words faltering. She found she could not keep herself from crying. “Boromir told me that… that… we c-c-couldn’t be together… anymore.” She fiercely wiped her eyes and covered her mouth, trembling.
Silverleaf frowned. “He told you that? Why?”
“Oh, can you not guess! You yourself said it! He said that we could not be together because there was so much keeping us apart. That his life was committed to his duty. That it always would be. You said it yourself that he was too high for me! That he would leave me…” the words rushed out with a distressed wail of tears, and Goldleaf buried her head in her knees, crying.
“Oh, Goldleaf…” Silverleaf paused. “I am so sorry. Truly, I am. I did not want for it to end this way, believe me. I never meant to hurt you with my words. I only meant that I did not want you to get hurt. And now he’s hurt you, hurt you badly.” She put her arms around her, holding her as she shook.
“He did not want to hurt me. He did not do this to hurt me. He wanted to…” Goldleaf raised her head, “…he said he was doing this because he loved me.”
Silverleaf raised her eyebrows. “Because he loved you?”
“He said so, he said so himself. That he loved me, that he would always love me. For the rest of his life. Just as I love him. Silverleaf…” she reached out and took her sister’s hands, desperately, “he did this for me.”
“How could he have done it for you, when he must have known how unhappy it would make you? He knew how much you loved him. How could he have thought it would not hurt you?” Silverleaf demanded.
“You don’t understand!” Goldleaf shook her head.
“Perhaps I don’t understand,” Silverleaf said, “but in any case this is the most miserable I’ve ever seen you. And I do not admire him for having broken your heart.”
“He loves me,” Goldleaf said, quietly. “He loves me,” she repeated, very softly, in a whisper.
“Come here.” Silverleaf cradled her sister’s head on her shoulder as if she were little more than a baby. Goldleaf closed her eyes, tears seeping out from under her closed eyelids.
Boromir.

~~~
Boromir stood at the balcony of his bedroom, hands clenched tightly on the railings as he leaned out into the morning air, the breeze hitting his face almost like a punishment. His eyes were closed against the immense pain shooting through him at this moment. He could only think of her, and it hurt so much that he could barely bring himself to move. When he had woken up, Goldleaf had been on his mind, and he had remembered what he had done last night. He had made her go. That had been his decision, to send her away in tears. He knew it had been the right decision in the end, and yet… and yet he cursed himself for hurting her so much. He wondered what she was doing at this moment, how she was. He knew the answer in his heart. She would be unhappy. Desperately unhappy, and it was him who had made her so. He had never been loved by anyone in the way she had loved him, so sincerely and completely, and he had thrown that love away.
Above all he wished to see her again, to be able to take her hands as he had done, to hug her again. In one part of his mind he even considered finding her, but the other part of his mind condemned that idea severely. He had made his choice, and it had been for her. There was no way that they could be together.
But he missed her. Missed her, so much.
He slowly reached up to his face, numb with grief. When he took his hand away his fingertips were wet with icy cold tears. He shook his head and tried to bite back the emotion.
Goldleaf.
Goldleaf.

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~~Siggy by Lembas~~

The last two chapters are so bittersweet and beautiful! I especially love the scene between Goldleaf and Silverleaf.

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*ish finally caught up*

I LOVED the dream sequence. Absolutely touching. My favorite quotes:



I love how poetic your writing is, Goldie dear. Some of the lines just make me catch my breath. I'm looking forward to seeing how you write the ending! I can't wait to read that. You don't have to take this advice AT ALL, but one of my impressions was that the grieving process is becoming a little too long. I don't know how far you're thinking about taking it, but I think one more short chapter would just about cover it. Feel free to smack me with teh fish of awesomeness if you hate what I just said.

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i'm back for a little! i'll see how this visit goes.

Thanks, Neri and Silvery!
And Silvery, as we've already talked about, the grieving period for Boromir is definitely going to be interrupted in this chapter! Cue lots of drama and a bit more tragedy - quite a change of pace for the fic as well Though it was quite sad writing this bit O_o

~~~

The morning passed like a breeze; Silverleaf managed to persuade Goldleaf to leave her bedroom and to help her get breakfast ready. Their parents rose and joined them at the kitchen table; Goldleaf remained quiet throughout the first meal of the day but she felt the slightest bit better for rejoining some kind of humanity. Grief still pained her but she knew that she could not lie in bed all day weeping. She then helped her mother and her sister clear the table, and her father went to get ready for his work; a busy day lay ahead of him, he had several new orders from soldiers of the city to forge swords for them.
Silverleaf smiled at Goldleaf as she carried the plates from the table; Goldleaf responded with a wan smile back. When the kitchen was tidy she went to the living room to read a book. The hours shimmered away in the sunlight that came through the window, and soon it was past midday. Goldleaf closed her book, wondering if she had just heard something out in the street.
She heard it again. The sound of scuffling feet rushing down the cobbled streets; she put down her book and rose from her seat. She went to the window, frowning. She could see people rushing past the window, looking anxious, some of them calling to each other amidst the chaos, fear in their voices. Goldleaf swiftly came away from the window and rushed from the room, looking for her sister.
“Silverleaf? Silverleaf!”
She came clattering down the stairs. She had been in her room, and had obviously seen what was going on outside too. Her eyes were wide and as soon as she reached Goldleaf she seized her, holding her hands tightly. “Quick! We’ve got to get away,” she said, her voice shrill with panic. Goldleaf shook her head.
“What’s happening?”
Silverleaf took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. Then she opened them and looked at her sister. “Orcs. Orcs have been spotted on the threshold of the city. They’re heading for us. They’re coming.” She gripped Goldleaf’s hands tighter, drawing her closer.
As the words dawned on her, Goldleaf’s mind raced. Orcs? Here? In Osgiliath? How could they dare? How could they possibly dare? It took a moment for her to speak up and try to do so calmly. “There’ll be the soldiers,” she said. “There’ll be the soldiers, Silverleaf. They’ll defend us.” She clung to her sister’s hands to try and calm them both. She frowned as Silverleaf shook her head.
“No,” she said. “The majority of the soldiers have been taken away to Minas Tirith to be presented to the Steward for some honour. I don’t know. But there’s too few here. Not enough.” Abruptly she released Goldleaf’s hands and looked around. “Come on. We’ve got to leave.”
Goldleaf thought quickly, trying to puzzle through the fact that they had been left without the number of men to defend them that they needed in a time like this; knowing that delaying any chance of escape would be folly, she bit her bottom lip. “One minute.”
She raced up the stairs whilst Silverleaf cried out in objection, and went straight to her room. She opened one of the drawers of her dressing table and removed one of her most beloved possessions; her sword. It was a Gondorian broadsword, and not just a weapon of deadly precision but also one of beauty. It was finely wrought, and any soldier of Gondor would have been proud to own it. It was sheathed, and she knotted the sheath to her belt, making sure it was secure so that she could remove the sword easily if she should need to. She then dashed back down the stairs, and saw her sister waiting impatiently for her. “I had to get my sword,” she explained. “We have to defend ourselves.”
“And just how may we do that!” Silverleaf exclaimed. “You may be able to wield a sword, but may I remind you that both mother and I do not.”
“I’ll look after you,” Goldleaf assured her. “I promise I will.”
Silverleaf gave a short laugh and grabbed her arm. “Come now. We must leave. They’re heading straight for our street; we’ve got to find mother and father.”
They rushed out into the stable yard at the back of their house and looked for their parents. There was no sign of their father, no sign of their mother. Both girls were afraid, and they could hear the frightened cries from the street behind them. “We can’t leave without them,” Goldleaf said.
“Of course we can’t,” Silverleaf said. She tugged at Goldleaf’s arm. “We’ll go out onto the street. Father will probably still be at work, and perhaps mother went out to the market, which is ahead of the house.”
Goldleaf paused. If they went into the street and they were waylaid by orcs they were sure to be killed. The safest option would have been just to continue running as far away from the house as possible. But that wasn’t an option; they had to find their parents, they needed to stay together. Nodding, Goldleaf set into a run as she headed back into the house, her sister following.
They ran down the hallway and went through the front door, shutting it behind them. More and more people were darting past the house in their fear, their shrieks growing louder. Goldleaf swiftly unsheathed her sword. “We’ll go to the marketplace now. Hurry!” she pushed past the havoc of the running citizens along with Silverleaf and they found their way down the street towards the market, where trade would have been busy today. But it was now empty, and although the cries could still be heard, although little quieter from here, there seemed to be a deadly silence.
All in a moment, Silverleaf screamed and rushed up the street, leaving Goldleaf standing alone. Goldleaf ran after her, wondering what had provoked her fear so quickly, and then an icy cold dread hit her, and she seemed to break to peaces. She dropped her sword with a clatter and collapsed to her knees beside her sister.
A body lay there on the street, the body of a woman in a pale green dress, a woman with rich brown hair, a woman they knew and loved.
Their mother.
Goldleaf let out a raw, terrible cry of grief and clutched her mother’s body to her, staining her own gown with blood. She had been stabbed through the heart. She cradled her against her shoulder, weeping furiously, hysteria taking a hold of her. “Mother! Mother, no! No, no, no, no, no!”
Silverleaf wept next to her, quite beyond herself, her arms limp at her sides, her wails growing louder. “She’s dead! Goldleaf… she’s… she’s…” she let out another scream that spiraled up into the air and tore at it, “…dead. Dead.”
Goldleaf gently, disbelievingly, lowered her mother’s body to the ground. She shook her head, speaking very quietly. “No.” She reached out to stroke her mother’s pale cheek, look into her unblinking eyes. “No, she can’t be.” Her voice trailed into another frantic sob.
The pounding of feet could be heard coming along the cobbled road. Silverleaf looked up, tears running down her cheeks. “They’re coming back,” she said brokenly. Goldleaf was transfixed staring at her mother’s lifeless face, as if to will her back to life. “Goldleaf,” Silverleaf said. “They’re coming back,” she repeated.
Goldleaf very slowly looked up. “They?” she said, her voice a thread of a whisper.
“Them,” Silverleaf said. “The orcs. They’re coming back to kill us!” she shrieked and shook her sister’s shoulder. Still Goldleaf knelt there beside their mother’s body. “Goldleaf! Do something!”
Looking almost as if she was in a trance, Goldleaf rose from her knees and got to her feet unsteadily. She blinked and reached down to pick up her sword. She held it loosely, she would be able to attack no orc with such a grip round the hilt, and she frowned ahead of her, trembling with the force of her tears.
“Goldleaf!”
Her head turned, taking in the terror of her sister’s face, and suddenly the danger of the situation hit her. She swung her sword round so that she held it properly, and she gulped, looking down at their mother. “Stand close to me,” she said. She blinked again as more tears rushed down her face. “We can’t leave mother’s body here.”
Suddenly, she felt someone take her by the shoulder, and she spun round, thinking that an orc approached her from the back to kill her. Her sword pointed towards her father, and instantly recognizing him, she lowered the blade. “Father!”
He hugged her to him fiercely then, looking over her shoulder, let out one heart-broken cry. He gazed at his daughters with unutterable grief and ran past them towards the body of his wife. The moments passed like years as his mourning echoed that of his daughters’, and then, very slowly, like a man sleepwalking, he took one small step towards them, his eyes urgent.
“Go,” he said shortly. “Go, now.”
Goldleaf shook her head. “We won’t leave you, or mother.”
Silverleaf clutched Goldleaf’s hand and looked pleadingly at her father. “Come with us. We’ve got to get away. We’ve got to…” she looked at their mother’s lifeless form and let out a sob. “…we can take her with us,” she said hurriedly. “We can get away from here, find a proper resting place for her…” her words came out in a rush, she barely knew what she was saying.
The girls’ father shook his head. The sound of approaching feet grew louder and, as Goldleaf sheathed her sword, he drew them both into a tight hug. They clutched at him, refusing to let him go, and all three of them wept in their despair, their eyes closed, even as the sound of pounding feet surrounded them, and the harsh cries of the orcs became clear in the same street in which they stood, and then their father became very still as they held him, and his weight seemed to lean on them. Very slowly, they looked up.
“Father?” Goldleaf said.
He looked back at them in a single moment, his expression one of shock. Then he collapsed at their feet, and they saw an orc standing before them, his blade red with their father’s blood. Screaming, Goldleaf unsheathed her sword and plunged her blade into the orc’s belly, killing it instantly. It toppled over backwards and lay unmoving.
Silverleaf was shaking their father’s shoulder, trying to get him to respond, but he did not reply, and lay as still as their mother. He was dead. They were both dead. As Goldleaf parried the blow of another approaching orc then swiftly struck it’s head off in her anger and grief, Silverleaf finally left their father’s body, and, weeping, tried to pull Goldleaf away from the battle, hugging her round the soldiers. More orcs approached.
“We’ve got to go,” Silverleaf cried. Goldleaf shook her head.
“We can’t leave them!” she shouted. “We’ve got to protect them!”
“They’re gone,” Silverleaf said, very quietly, eyes brimming with tears. “They’re dead.”
The knowledge of both her parents’ death hitting her hard, Goldleaf turned round sheathed her sword once more, hugging her sister amidst her tears. As Silverleaf took her arm, Goldleaf took once last look at her parents, shaking, and then finally had to look away and run down the street with her sister as fast as their feet could take them, running from the deaths that could await them with their parents.

~~~
Breathless from running, Silverleaf and Goldleaf crouched down together outside the abandoned house, next to the wall which, if jumped over, would take them to the forest of Ithilien. They had raced through the city, looking for refuge, as people screamed around them, were cut down around them with the fell strikes of orc swords. Goldleaf had killed the orcs she could but there were too many, far too many. They now had to hide from the vicious attack, and to hope that their lives would be spared. Huddled down by the wall, they held each other fearfully.
“I don’t want to die,” Goldleaf whispered.
“Neither do I,” Silverleaf replied. “Nobody does. Mother and father didn’t want to die. But they killed them.”
“How long will we be able to hide here?”
“I don’t know. They’re coming through the city fast. They’re cutting down everyone in their path. I saw a child dead on the street, little more than six. All that life, that potential… dead.” Silverleaf trembled. “How can they make life so meaningless?”
“Life isn’t meaningless,” Goldleaf protested.
“Then why is everyone dying?”
“We’re alive. We’re alive.” Goldleaf clutched her sister round the shoulders, heaving a deep breath. “What will we do if they come here?”
“We’ll jump over the wall. Go into the forest.”
“Ithilien?”
“Yes. We should be able to hide there for a while, if we need to.”
“It’s supposed to be beautiful there. It must have been even more so when it was not invaded. The garden of Gondor,” Goldleaf said. She remembered her discussion with Boromir about crossing the river to live there. Now it might be their refuge from death.
“Apparently it was very lovely, before it fell.”
Goldleaf was about to reply when she heard a loud knock. The sound of a door being knocked down with some force; she leapt to her feet and grabbed Silverleaf’s hand. Silverleaf rose to her feet and gave Goldleaf a little push. “Jump over the wall. Now.” Goldleaf shook her head, lost for words. She did not want to leave her sister. “Now!” Still Goldleaf remained obstinately at Silverleaf’s side. The door was finally bashed in, they could hear it shatter, and orc feet pounded down the corridor, towards the back of the house, where they stood.
“Goldleaf! Jump over the wall, I will follow!” Silverleaf said. “Do it, before we are killed. Get over the wall.”
“You promise you will follow me?”
“I promise.”
Goldleaf paused and then approached the wall doubtfully. “It’s quite tall,” she said.
“I’ll give you a lift.”
Silverleaf knelt and cupped her hands. Goldleaf gingerly placed one boot in her sister’s cupped hands and Silverleaf surprised her with a sudden display of strength, lifting her up so that she could reach the top of the wall. Goldleaf clang to the edge and tried to scrabble upwards; Silverleaf helped her, giving her a push so that she could sit on the edge and swing her legs over the other side.
Once Goldleaf was on the top of the wall she was uncertain. “I don’t want to leave you,” she said.
“I will follow you,” Silverleaf said.
“Please, don’t leave me, Silverleaf,” Goldleaf begged, tears springing to her eyes as the racket caused by the orcs became clearer in their ears.
“Jump over! Please, Goldleaf, do it, now!”
Goldleaf waited one moment, noting the desperation in her sister’s eyes. Then she took a deep breath, and jumped down, landing on her feet on the other side, somewhat unsteadily. She raised her voice to carry it over the wall.
“You jump now, Silverleaf!”
“I’m trying to climb up the wall.”
Goldleaf searched for a gap between the bricks in the wall and found one where her boot would fit perfectly. She swung herself up, placing her boot in the crack, and peered over the edge. “Take my hand!” she called.
Silverleaf reached upwards, trying to take Goldleaf’s hand. Goldleaf leaned down further then watched with horror as two orcs broke through the door that led out into the back, and approached Silverleaf. “Silverleaf!” she screamed, reaching for her.
Silverleaf reached upwards, the tips of her fingers brushing Goldleaf’s. Her eyes were panicked, and the orcs were coming closer. Goldleaf was losing her balance, trying to cling to the wall with all her strength. She leaned down lower to try and pull her sister upwards, but the height of the wall was too great, and her balance as she tried to keep herself on the wall with one boot too precarious. “Silverleaf!” she cried as one of the orcs drew it’s sword and Silverleaf let out a cry of fear. Goldleaf wobbled and held out her hand for her sister, but she was not able to hold on, and she toppled backwards, falling down from the wall, landing this time not on her feet, but hard on the ground, hitting her head, knocking her out.
All she saw was darkness.

_________________


~~Siggy by Lembas~~

Here is part 13!

~~~

A warm breeze shivered through Goldleaf’s hair, blowing strands into her eyes; she barely noticed, sitting at the roots of a large tree. Two days had passed since she had woken. The blow to the head had knocked her out, and for what seemed like years all she knew was a swirling blur of darkness, muffled sound, voices half-heard. She had woken to a sudden rush of light, and leaves rustling above her. It had taken her a few moments to process what she was then told; she was in Ithilien, under the care of the rangers. It was they who had found her unconscious. Even when she had awoken, she had obviously been too ill to be left alone. Now, sitting a little way away from the camp they had made, it was clear that she was now healed, and soon would have to find somewhere to go.
“Madam?”
Startled, Goldleaf looked up. The voice belonged to a man in forest shades of green and brown, a ranger. She had not recognized his voice. Taking a breath, she composed herself, her expression carefully blank. “Sir.” Her voice was strained, it sounded as if she had spent many hours crying, but now she was withholding the tears. Upon wakening, the death of her parents had hit her hard; then she had remembered falling down from the wall, leaving Silverleaf alone with orcs on the other side. Her mind was still fresh with guilt, anger and despair.
Studying the ranger’s features, she wondered why he looked so familiar. She knew they had not met before, so who did he remind her of? Trying not to frown, she waited for him to speak.
The man stepped forward. “Forgive me for intruding. We have not met before.” He paused. “I am Captain Faramir. I understand you have been ill, under the care of my men.”
A moment passed in which silence followed. Goldleaf tried to speak, before shaking her head. “Captain Faramir?”
“Correct.”
Her mouth was dry. Boromir’s brother. Boromir’s brother… Looking at him again, she realized just how much Faramir did look like his brother. Yet his manner was different, there was a sternness about him. His stance was entirely different from Boromir’s. She remembered what Boromir had said about their father not favouring his brother highly. Her heart beat so loud she wondered if he could hear it. “I see,” she said, eventually. “Yes, they have been looking after me. I am sorry to have been a burden.”
“Not at all,” he said. “You were badly knocked out, I’ve been told. My men recognized you immediately for a Gondorian, most probably a casualty from the attack on Osgiliath.”
“I am well now.” Goldleaf did not particularly desire to speak of the attack. Speaking of it would mean speaking of her family, and she was not ready to do so.
“Yes. You will soon be returning home, then?” he gave a small smile. “Do you have family to go back to?”
Silently, she shook her head. Another silence, longer this time, ensued. Faramir weighed out the situation, before nodding. “No friends to stay with?”
Briefly, Goldleaf thought of Aunt Morwen, before discarding that idea entirely. She did not want to see her aunt, and anyway, staying in Minas Tirith would bring her too near to Boromir, too near to memories. Taking a deep breath, she spoke. “No. But I will depart soon, do not worry.”
“You have nowhere to go,” Faramir said. “May I sit?”
Goldleaf nodded, and the captain sat a little way away from her, against the tree. He continued speaking. “To speak quite bluntly, madam, if you truly have nowhere to go, then you will adopt the life of a vagrant. And that is no life for anyone, least of all such a young woman.”
“Well, I cannot stay here,” Goldleaf retorted. “The rangers of Ithilien have much work to attend to. I know that. I am a burden here, and your men have been kind, but I must move on.” Her voice broke a little, and she looked away.
Faramir paused. He sighed. “Have I offended you?”
She shook her head. “No. Not at all. But…” giving up on words, she decided it was best to remain in silence. She did not want to start weeping again. Instead, she glanced at the man beside her, wondering how his father could have taken such a dislike to him. He seemed grave but kind, and Boromir had described him well to her. The two brothers were close, and had both been grief-stricken by the death of their mother when they had been so young. Their father had chosen Boromir as the one to whom he would devote the all-consuming love he had doted upon his wife.
Faramir frowned as Goldleaf looked at him, as if some odd thought had taken a hold of her. Her blue eyes were intent. “What is the matter?” he enquired.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s just…” she paused. “You look remarkably similar to someone I once knew.”

Morning slowly turned to afternoon, and after taking luncheon with the rangers, Goldleaf decided that it was time for her to take her leave from them. She slung a cotton bag, which contained some provisions they had given her, across her shoulders, then strapped her sheathed sword to the belt round her waist. Warming her hands over the fire, she wondered if it would be best just to disappear.
But Captain Faramir came to find her first. “My lady…”
She laughed before he could continue. “I am not a noblewoman.”
“All the same. Before you leave, I must ask you if you are entirely sure about your decision? You have not lived in the wild before, you are not used to the conditions of the forest. You must have a home to return to,” he said.
“I do,” she replied. “But it is empty now. I cannot, and I will not return, sir.” Her gaze was unwavering.
He sighed. “I understand this is not mere stubbornness on your part. From what I can gather… your family were taken in the battle.” He said the words with great care. Goldleaf held in a deep breath, before slowly nodding.
“So you see, I cannot go back,” she said. “The memory of them would be too painful. I cannot endure an empty home. Nor will I accept the pity of those who would help me. I have to leave.”
He nodded. “So I cannot dissuade you?”
“No.”
“Then, I will say, if you persist in your desire to dwell here, in Ithilien, then the rangers of Ithilien will always be at hand to offer you aid, should you need it. As you already know this place is no longer safe to citizens of Gondor.”
She took in his words, stunned by the offer. She bowed her head slightly. “Thank you. You have been most kind to me.”
He nodded, giving a small, wry smile. “You will need the blade you carry in the days to come. I hope you can use it well.”
“Indeed.” She gave a tiny smile back. “You are an honourable man, captain. Those who know you would do well to remember it.” She referred to his father, and as he pondered the meaning behind her words, she threw a cloak about her shoulders. “Farewell.” She turned to go.
Watching her disappear through the tree branches, Faramir thought what a similar demeanor she possessed to his brother; kind-hearted, determined… stubborn even. He lifted his hand as she looked over her shoulder, as if she was saying goodbye to a friend.
Lord Boromir of Gondor’s brother, the captain of the rangers of Ithilien, and the true love of Boromir’s life, Goldleaf, had just made their farewell.

_________________


~~Siggy by Lembas~~

Part 14!

~~~

It seemed like hours in which Boromir had been unable to sleep. Time had seemed to stretch on into centuries, whole ages of the world had drifted on as he lay there, awake, thinking. But now, in the early hours of the morning, his eyes finally started to close, and his consciousness floated into the realm of dreams. Light filled his vision, so bright it was almost blinding. In this dream world his eyes opened, and he was sitting on his father’s seat, the seat of the Stewards.

“I believe that this strategy will be successful, as long as we are all firm in the decision.” Several generals were gathered around him, all looking solemn, nodding and agreeing. Boromir picked up a goblet of wine and raised it to his lips as he thought. Pausing, he added, “this is a grave matter. Grave indeed, and appropriate action must be taken.”
“Wise words, my lord,” said one of the somber men, and there was a general murmur of agreement. Boromir smiled grimly, and was about to take a sip of wine when there was a flicker of movement from the far side of the hall. A woman who had been walking through discreetly suddenly paused, the crisp skirts of her fine gown swishing, and she caught his gaze, unsmiling. A young woman, a beautiful woman; but stern and cool. His wife. Boromir looked at Lady Goldleaf, the breath caught in his throat, all his determination suddenly dashed away. She observed him for a few moments, before turning and briskly walking away, out of sight, out of the hall. Boromir slowly looked away, the gravity of her demeanor weighing down hard upon him.
She had been happy once, before she married him. She had been joyful, and warm. And she had loved him so much. She still loved him, of course, but something had died inside her once she became the wife to the Steward of Gondor. She was not suited to courtly life. She was used to the warmth and care of a humble family life; she had been the daughter of a man who forged swords. Now she dressed in regal gowns, and kept fine lodgings here with Boromir, and she sat beside him at state dinners, pale as ice, her light dimmed. Remote as a queen of snow.
As soon as Boromir had finished discussions with his generals, he left the hall and went to find her. She was sitting in her chambers, in a window seat, gazing out far beyond Minas Tirith. He lingered in the doorway, almost afraid to approach her. But her head turned, and a tiny smile formed on her lips. “My lord,” she said levelly.
He stepped into the room and closed the door. “Please don’t call me that,” he said softly, walking towards her. “Call me by my name, as you once did.” He reached the window and took one of her hands in his. It was cold. She gave a little shrug of her shoulders and, as she looked down, the smile took on a bitter edge.
“I am with you so little,” she said. “I speak to you on my own so little, perhaps I have become accustomed to calling you by your title.”
He sat down beside her, filled with guilt. “I don’t mean for you to be unhappy, Goldleaf,” he said. “More than anything, I wish to make you happy. Above any other wish in the world. But you are not.” He gently lifted her face towards him. “You’re not happy, are you?”
She shook her head. “How can I be, when we scarcely have any time together? I am with you only as your stewardess, the lady of Gondor. I have become more a figurehead than your wife.”
“I am sorry,” he said. “Believe me. I am sorry. I am kept so busy, I have so many matters to attend to. I am scarcely left alone to have time to myself, to have time with you.”
“I could abide it once,” she replied. “I could understand once. But now…” she paused. “I in no way blame you. But you have no idea how lonely I am. I am left alone all day, with nothing more to do than listen to the gossip of my ladies in waiting.”
He took her other hand and drew her closer to him. She rested her head on his shoulder, silent and thoughtful.
“Forgive me,” he said quietly.
She did not reply.
“Forgive me,” he repeated, even quieter. She nodded her head slowly.
“I can forgive you,” she whispered, “but I cannot forgive Gondor for taking you away from me.”
He held her closer. “You will see, I will try to make it up to you. You will see, Goldleaf,” he murmured.

At dinner, Boromir and Goldleaf sat together at the high table. Goldleaf was clad in dark blue, with rich furs thrown about her shoulders to guard against the cold. A diadem nestled in her golden hair, setting off her majestic appearance. Despite her rich attire, she looked distant and icy.
Boromir glanced at her as the food was served. He reached out for her hand, which lay on her armrest. Her fingers linked through his, and she found a small smile for him. He smiled back at her. He so wanted to prove that he would try his hardest not to leave her alone. He could only imagine what the days were like for her, as he attended meetings and listened to his councilors.
Dinner was served and Goldleaf picked at her food, eating hardly anything. She only took one small sip from her wine, and watched resignedly as someone caught Boromir’s attention, to speak to him about the latest war effort.
Soon it was time for her to retire. She rose from the table with immense dignity, and inclined her head to Boromir. “And now I take my leave from you, my lord,” she said, her ladies in waiting clustering around her to attend to her. Boromir hastily rose with her, and bowed his head.
“I will see you from the hall,” he said, tucking her hand over his arm. She consented without a word, and raised an eyebrow as Boromir, leading her away, dismissed her serving women.
He led her from the hall, and as they walked down a corridor together, she remained silent.
“Won’t you speak to me?” Boromir asked, watching her profile, which was turned away from him. Still more silence. “Are you angry with me?”
She turned suddenly to face him. “Yes, I am angry,” she cried. “Yes, I am so angry and so sad I could break! I cannot endure another moment of this, when we are made to treat each other as polite strangers when in fact I am your wife and not a woman who sits at your side at banquets!”
He could find no words for that. He listened to her continue, pained. He loved her so much, but he wished he could set her free from the life they lived. He wished he could be set free with her, to make her smile again. He missed her smile so much; it had used to light up any room, fill wherever she was with so much light and radiance.
“I love you, Boromir! But I feel as if I am being drained of life,” Goldleaf said despairingly. She started to cry, tears building up in her eyes and spilling over. “I love you.”
He caught her in his arms, and she sobbed into his shoulder, shaking. He held her close, shutting his eyes.

Boromir’s eyes abruptly opened, and he flung himself up from his pillows, more terrified than he could ever be made by any nightmare. It had been a dream. A dream, only. He clutched his forehead, so relieved. He was suddenly seized with a certainty that he had been right to let Goldleaf go. What if they had married, and he had given her such a life, a life that she could not bear with it’s coldness and loneliness? However much he loved her, he could not have done that to her. His dream had frightened him. But it would never come to be.

~~~

It was growing light, and Goldleaf had not slept at all. She had spent the night curled up in a tree, watching the hours of dark go by, listening to the calls of owls, the sounds of wildlife in the forest. One part of her could not imagine why she had decided to retreat into a homeless life, instead of going back to her home, however lonely and empty. But another part of her was stubborn, and she was determined to stay away. This was almost like the punishment she was dealing herself for letting her sister die by such horrific accident. She would not let herself be warm, be comfortable, be happy.
She had lost everything, and everyone. There seemed no choice now but to withdraw from normal life. She slowly opened the bag the rangers had given her and removed a piece of bread wrapped in a cloth. She bit into the nourishing food, realizing that she was starving. How would she survive when the food ran out? With a bitter feeling the thought came to her; she would hunt for it, as they did. She would work for it, as the rangers did. She would take up the kind of lives they led now. Maybe, through the cold and the misery, she would find some way to find honour in it.
Ithilien was dangerous, she knew. Perhaps she could be of a help to them. Perhaps she could aid them. Any orc or soldier of Harad who passed through these lands, she would slay. A shieldmaiden hidden in the trees would jump down and cut the throat of the intruder. Perhaps, if nothing else, valour would save her.

The rain started to come down hard. Shivering and walking through the forest dripping wet, Goldleaf looked at the grey skies, the dark clouds above. It was almost a test, walking in the rain, as if to prove that she could endure any hardship. The weather could beat down upon her as it liked, she could live in discomfort as long as she willed. She had known love and lost it. She had lived in the most loving family imaginable, and they were all gone. This was all that was left. Nothing would make her run away and cry into the pillow of her own comfortable bed. Somehow, she had to find a way through the grief.

_________________


~~Siggy by Lembas~~

Awww, I feel so sorry for both of them right now. Boromir, because he loves Goldleaf so much, but that he loves her enough to let her go; Goldleaf, because she's just lost her love and her family and she's just struggling to find a way to live. As an aside, I can't wait to see how Goldleaf keeps evolving.

_________________

Banner from Nellie

Thanks, Neri! If the last chapter was sad, then prepare yourself - this is a pretty long chapter, so make yourself comfortable! Tragedy awaits... O_o

~~~

Two years later

Boromir hated who he had become.
He wondered how he had come to this; so far away from home, on what seemed like a hopeless quest. Running his hands through his hair, he tried to push back his rising panic. What was he doing here? And more than that, who was he now? The eldest son of the Steward still, but tormented, desperate. It lay on his shoulders to protect Gondor, and he did not have the means to do his duty. The only fragile hope that he had lay in the weapon of the Enemy. The weapon that they all said would break their world.
What hope was there? Letting his hands fall, he asked himself again: what hope?
He looked up at the smiling elf-woman, who stood on the other side of the basin. She was clad all in white, and her eyes glimmered like conspirators. “Will you look?” she suggested in her strange, deep voice, her smile grave. Stepping forward, Boromir shook his head.
“What witchcraft is this, what magic?” he asked, voice trembling slightly. “Some trick.” The lady of Lorien shook her head.
“No witchcraft. It will only show you what was, what is, and what may come to be,” she said solemnly. She raised the ewer she had filled with water from the trickling stream, and raised her arm high to pour the liquid inside the basin. The water trickled, and Boromir, frowning, peered at the surface. His own reflection gazed back at him, and his expression was tortured. He looked away quickly, back at Lady Galadriel. She inclined her head, and stepped back.
Slowly, Boromir gathered the courage to look inside.
What he saw almost choked him. A young woman looking over her shoulder, blue eyes filled with despair. He recognized her face in a heartbeat; it was the face that he had thought of on many a sleepless night, a face that haunted him. He looked at Goldleaf and remembered his old self, struggling.
Swiftly the image turned into a depiction of the city of Minas Tirith, Boromir’s home, alight with flames. There was an agonized scream of pain amongst the various other voices, and he knew it for hers as once. Gripping the sides of the basin, he urged himself to look away but he could not.
He saw her running, her gown stained with blood, her expression one of anguish. He saw her falling, and an orc raising it’s sword, bringing it down to…
“No!” Boromir tore himself away. “No.”
The image faded from the water, and he covered his mouth with his hands, trying to fight back his terror. He looked up at the elf-woman. “You showed me this horror,” he said, anger tingeing his voice. “This is your doing.”
“I only showed you what may come to be,” she said simply. For a moment she paused, and then she smiled. “The young woman. You knew her at once. You loved her.”
Boromir looked at her in astonishment. “How can you know these things?” he said warily. “And how could you be so cruel? She cannot die, that cannot happen.”
“This war will touch everyone, even innocents,” Galadriel said. “Yes, even those you have loved. Do you not remember my words, ‘in all lands love is now mingled with grief’?”
“I knew that was directed at me,” Boromir said. “I knew your words were meant for me. You cannot understand. You cannot. I only left her because… because…” tears stung his eyes, and he looked away.
“Because of love,” Galadriel said. “Love works in strange ways. Do you think she would know you now, after all this time?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I do not think she would know me.”
“Are you so very sure?”
“Look what I have become!” Boromir burst out. “Look at how everything has turned out. She had so much faith in me. And now my future looks so dark.”
Galadriel looked thoughtful. “It can still be changed.”
“Can it?” he replied, voice thick with tears. He shook his head. “I do not think that if she saw me, she would see the man that she loved. She would see a stranger.”

~~~

A young woman, her weather-worn gown caked with mud, her stringy hair dusty and unwashed, went quietly through the trees, her footsteps silent; like a ranger, she had perfected the skill of moving without a sound, so as not to alert anyone or anything to her presence. She had heard someone in the forest, someone who should have been more discreet. She despised trespassers in Gondor; for despite her bedraggled appearance, she herself was a citizen of the land. The rangers of Ithilien allowed her residence here; they knew, by now, that she was well able to defend herself against any kind of danger. Every so often one of them would bump into her, and ask how she did. She would reply, with a wry smile, that as always, she survived.
Slowly, her hand moved to her sword hilt, and she drew the blade from it’s sheath. She raised the sword, and parted the branches which lay between her, and the intruder of the forest.
The figure, dark and bent over a small fire, did not see her; it’s back was turned. It’s clothing was aged, ragged even. The young woman approached from behind, silently, and swung her sword towards the man – for that was what the figure was. No orc, but perhaps an enemy still.
The man looked down at the blade resting against his shoulder, threatening to press against his neck. Slowly, he stood up, raising his hands and turning around to face his dusty, muddy, stone-faced attacker. His eyes were slightly round as he looked at her; she was just a girl, in her twenties. But a fearsome-looking girl all the same; there was no emotion in her bright blue eyes, no trace of anything other than determination. She was the strangest sight he had ever seen, and despite the fact that it looked as if she was about to kill him, at once she interested him immensely.
“You can lower your blade,” the man said slowly. “I am no foe of Gondor. I walk in these woods as a friend.”
“A friend?” the girl said sharply. She raked her gaze over him, one slim eyebrow raising. She weighed over the situation, a few moments passing as she thought. Frowning, she removed the sword-edge from his shoulder, as if she had just realized that he, in fact, meant her no harm.
He nodded, more relieved than he could say. The girl sheathed her sword and leaned on the sword-hilt, looking at him as if considering something.
“Who are you?” he asked, lowering his hands to his sides. Suddenly, she laughed, almost harshly.
“Who am I?” she retorted. “I might ask you the same.”
He supposed that this would be a fair enough question. After all, until a few minutes ago she had looked upon him as an enemy, enough to walk up behind him without making a single sound. “My name is Aravir,” he said.
“You are not a ranger of Ithilien.” It was not a question.
“Indeed, not. I give my service to other lands.” He paused. “Forgive me, but I must tell you that this place is no longer safe to pass through. These woods have become dangerous to travelers.”
She observed him grimly. “I have survived here for two years. Time enough to know that I live in danger.”
“Two years?” he repeated. She did not say anything for another moment, which seemed to stretch on uncomfortably before she spoke up again, on an entirely different subject. Obviously she did not care to speak of her own situation.
“You are a Dunedain ranger,” she said.
He nodded, slightly baffled. She had a clear sight, it seemed. That was why she had lowered her blade, because she had recognized him for one of the Dunedain. More and more she continued to surprise him. He did not know whether to smile, or to gaze at her in astonishment. She was quite remarkable.
“I am,” he said.
“You do well to build such a small fire,” she said. “If the smoke had risen too high you would have alerted a more dangerous presence than I.” She walked towards the flames to warm her hands. One of her palms, he saw, was scarred with a fresh new red wound. It looked painful, but it was impossible to tell if she even cared, if it even meant anything to her.
“What is your name?” he asked, curiously. She turned, something in her eyes flickering, as if he had just asked a very hazardous question. But she gave a small nod, and smiled dryly.
“Goldleaf,” she replied.

~~~

Goldleaf’s camp was much more better-placed than Aravir’s, hidden in a little valley encircled by trees. She had put out the fire flickering in his camp. “This is a poor place to make an encampment,” she had commented. “I know these woods well enough, better than you, perhaps.” She had smiled saying those last words, a tiny flicker of a smile that vanished just as quickly.
Now they sat on an overturned log in the valley, next to a small fire that she had built. Over a nearby branch she had draped an ancient-looking blanket, and there was a chipped old ewer at the roots of the tree. She had very little possessions; she owned only what she needed. There was no other way to live here.
“I was going to make luncheon before I heard your footsteps,” she said. “Do you like stewed rabbit?”
This was not really a yes or no question. This was clearly all she had, and as she set about warming a small pot of stewed meat over the flames, scattering forests herbs over it, Aravir wondered what had led her to this life.
She shared out the food between them. He could not help but note how generous this was of her, sharing her meal with a stranger. This might be the only nourishing food she had had all day. And it took work trapping a rabbit in a homemade cage.
“What news have you from Gondor?” she asked, laying down her fork. He paused, wondering at the question. His destination was Minas Tirith, but although he had not yet reached the White City, he had indeed heard hearsay from the land of men on his travels.
“None pleasing to Gondorian ears,” he answered. “All news from Minas Anor, I am afraid, is grave. War is coming.”
She nodded. “As we all know.”
“Lord Denathor, I have heard, has been much aggrieved. The word is that he is very rarely seen in public, nowadays. He is a man who walks half-dead, they say.”
Goldleaf listened with interest. More interest than Aravir knew. “What has struck him so?” she queried intently. Her gaze was unwavering.
“The obvious,” Aravir replied.
She shook her head. “Of what do you speak?”
Aravir frowned. “You have not heard? The news is that the Steward’s eldest son is dead. His horn was found washed upon the riverbank, cloven in two. A small time before it had been heard calling, over the hills, as if the owner were in great peril.”
Goldleaf sat silent and stunned for a moment. Very slowly, she shook her head. “No. That cannot be,” she said simply.
“The lord’s son had set out upon a journey that first took him to the Elven haven of Rivendell. Perhaps some calamity befell him,” Aravir suggested. Still, the young woman shook her head.
“No,” she said obstinately. Her voice shook a little. “The one you speak of had the strength of many men. It would take more than a mere calamity.”
She set down her plate.
“Boromir of Gondor was beloved by all the people of his country, I understand,” Aravir said, thinking her tremulous voice no more than the result of a citizen’s loyalty. “The whole city seems to have gone into mourning, none more so than the Steward. He has retreated behind his grief.”
A long silence reigned in which Goldleaf sat with her fists clenched on her lap. Aravir could not have known that she was trying with all her strength not to break down. Above all, she would not let herself cry in front of him. She would not let him know what this meant to her.
Aravir looked at her, wondering what was wrong. She had asked for news, and he had given it to her. Goldleaf’s brow creased and she glared at him, rising up from the log. Instantly he rose with her.
“You seem to be a herald of doom,” she said quietly.
“I only told you what I myself have heard.”
She nodded, very slowly, inside fighting to keep composure. Finally, she looked him in the eye and said, with a voice so controlled that the quaver was hidden, “I think I shall go for a walk. Do excuse me.” She turned with a swish of her weather-worn skirts, and started to walk away from him. Aravir shook his head, utterly unaware of her inward fight. She felt as if she was going to give way, her head was swimming, her sight was near blurred with tears. But she would not let herself break, not here, in front of him.
“Goldleaf? Are you alright?” he called after her. She looked over her shoulder. That one look she gave him pierced him in a way no smile or scowl could. It was the look of someone who is battling against collapsing. But he could not know.
“Quite fine. I just need a walk.”

~~~
Once she was away from the valley, she started to run, her feet beating against the earth hurriedly. She did not know what she was running from, she just knew that she needed to get away, and get away fast. Tears streamed down her face as she raced on, fists clenched, letting herself sob now, though she felt as if all the air had been cut off from her throat. She felt as if she could not breathe, but her sobs were growing hysterical. Finally she stopped, and leaned against a tree, trembling with shock, anger and despair.
How could he be dead? Him, of all the people in the world? He, who had been so bright and full of life, with such hopes? Boromir had been high and grand, far above her yet so near in his kindness and his warmth. His humanity. What had come to life, that someone like him could pass on from the world?
And how had it happened, how on earth had it happened? She desperately needed to know, but she would not ask Aravir. She could not bear to ask him. Closing her eyes as the tears ran, she felt her legs giving way. Yet she kept standing, refusing to let herself be weak. She felt weak though, weaker than she had ever been in her life. With a sudden rush of pain she remembered the loss of her family. So sudden and so acute was the remembered hurt that she wept afresh.
This loss felt just as painful. It tore her apart inside, ripped her heart to pieces. It was almost as if she had no heart left; everyone she had ever loved were gone, and now she had no more love to give. She was drained, tired.
On many cold and lonely nights she had thought of him. She had thought of Boromir, huddled up in front of her fire, remembering their evenings watching the sun go down together. It all came back to her now, as vivid as if she was remembering yesterday.

“Do you know, I am here to watch the sun go down also. You can still do so, you may stand here if you wish.”

“Would you like to talk here again tomorrow?”

“I think that when you find someone you share common thoughts with, and feelings, well, it doesn’t matter how long you’ve known them. All that matters is that connection.”

“You love me? All this time I have been struggling with my feelings, wondering what to say to you, if I even should say it. But I love you too.”

“We cannot go on as we are, if it will lead nowhere. I cannot do that to you.”

She shook uncontrollably. In all the time that had passed since their parting, she had carried on loving him. Her heart had remained missing his. She had dreamt of him every night. She had remembered things he’d said to her, even the things that tortured her, when he had told her they could no longer be together. He had continued meaning everything to her.
Many times she had wondered if he would even recognize her if they ever met again. She was so changed, she had wondered if he would still love her. She gazed at the scar on her hand; she had forgotten entirely that her hand was hurt. It didn’t matter. The young woman Boromir had known had had hands unscarred by battle, and a life untouched by the wild nature of the forest. She had been beautiful, and she had laughed and smiled. She seldom smiled now. And today, it seemed that there would never be anything to smile about ever again.
She sunk down to the roots of the tree, her gaze blank. She could hardly see. Her head pounded and the tears continued brimming. She could barely hear the birdsong above her.
“Boromir,” she whispered, brokenly. “Boromir.”

~~~

She returned to the camp after two hours of sitting at the base of the tree. Aravir leapt up from the log, looking frantic. “I searched everywhere for you,” he said in a rush. “I couldn’t find you, and I thought if I ventured too far into the forest, when you returned to the camp it would take me a lifetime to get back.”
She hardly heard him. She just nodded vaguely and walked past him with unseeing eyes. She took in nothing, walking in a daze.
“Are you alright?” he asked, clearly worried.
Finally, she heard him, and she turned her gaze to him as if surprised. “I’m… I’m fine.” She wasn’t fine. She felt dead inside, and his presence here meant nothing to her. He was the one who had brought her the news, anyway. In her blurred thoughts she almost blamed him. But as she blinked common sense came rushing back to her, and she knew he was not to blame.
“You’re sure?” he pressed.
“Just let me sit down.” She did so, focusing on him for something else to think about. He was tall and dark-haired, with dark eyes. He was looking at her intently.
“I was worried about you,” he said. “Though I am sure that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself.”
“I am fine, and I am capable. You need not have worried yourself.” Her voice was blank.
They sat in silence for a few moments more. Goldleaf did not want to speak now. She had nothing more to say. She turned her gaze away, and it started to grow dark.
The memories started to flood back again.

“You must give up on me. Forget me.”

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~~Siggy by Lembas~~

Part 16!

~~~

As the next morning wakened, Goldleaf could find nothing more unwelcome than the sunlight. She kept her eyes tightly closed, wanting to block out the new day, knowing that it would be just as difficult as last night. She felt drained of any kind of emotion except grief. Nothing else spoke to her or prompted her. It was a numb, cold feeling and it took over her being entirely. She had had only one hour of sleep, and she had had an awful dream; more of a nightmare, really. It had been dark and terrible; she had seen him. Boromir, dead and lifeless.
No words could describe how it had tortured her; any description was insufficient to describe how it had crawled under her skin and whispered terrible things to her, torn her apart, left her shaking, making her weep until she thought she would never stop. She had managed to shed her tears silently, for the ranger Aravir had shared her camp. Goldleaf had managed to ignore him well enough; it was no cruelty on her part - simply to act as if he was not there was easier than trying to act as if nothing was wrong. His presence meant nothing. All her waking thoughts were thrown onto Boromir and Boromir alone.
Little did she know, amidst her raging grief, that she had made more of an impression on Aravir than she knew.
The dark-haired ranger stood beside the embers of last night’s fire, glancing at Goldleaf. Her back was turned, and she seemed to be asleep, curled up near the tree. Stamping out the embers, Aravir wondered what he could have said last night to offend her, for she had ignored him utterly after a while. She had seemed distant, far away from the camp and from him. Aravir was a proud man, but still the fact that she shunned him caused no offence. He was not angry with her; what had he said that was so offensive, she suddenly acted as if he did not exist? He would be sure to try and find out today.
It was growing brighter by the minute. There was no denying, it was morning. Still she seemed to sleep. Aravir frowned, knowing it would be probably unwise to leave her. Approaching her, he knelt down and gently shook her shoulder.
“Goldleaf?”
Like lightning, Goldleaf leapt up and drew her sword from it’s sheath, which she had kept knotted to her belt, swinging it to Aravir’s throat. It was a natural reflex for her; she was used to expecting an attack, having lived so long in such a dangerous environment. The fierce light of battle danced in her eyes, till she saw that it was her new acquaintance; the light died and she lowered her blade, rolling her eyes. “You,” she said shortly, sounding irritated.
“You weren’t asleep?” Aravir said, confused, and a little dazed at her yet again almost killing him.
She shrugged her shoulders stiffly. “No.”
She turned away, sheathing her sword. Why wouldn’t he just leave her alone? She wanted just to keep her eyes closed and be alone. She wanted to just think of Boromir. Still in shock, everything else meant less than nothing. Inside she needed to cry, needed to scream and lash out. As it was, she had to keep it all inside, so that she appeared unfriendly and far away.
Aravir hesitated. She was looking away from him, her expression grim. “I was wondering… have I done something to upset you?”
Goldleaf turned her head, looking at him blankly. How little he knew. He had delivered to her this most devastating piece of news, but he had no idea of the terrible impact it had had upon her. “What on earth would make you think so?” her words were empty and cold. She needed to be left alone. When would he leave? If she could have her way, she would send him away, far, far away. It was fine being hospitable when you had something left to live for; not fine at all when you felt half-dead with despair.
Aravir was about to say something in reply, when Goldleaf suddenly shook her head.
“Look… it’s about time you left, don’t you think? You must have matters to attend to, it would be best if you went on your way,” she said quickly, her words running together in her haste just to be alone, and to be able to cry.
Aravir paused at that, looking a little taken aback. “Yes. Of course, yes, you’re right,” he said, finally. “Well. It was very kind of you to let me sleep here, and share your food. Hospitality is hard to find these days.” He gave a little smile, stepping back. Goldleaf looked away from him again and nodded her head slightly.
“Goodbye.”
All her thoughts were dark, and there was no room for anything else. She cared not if she hurt his feelings; what did he matter, anyway? She closed her eyes tightly, tears seeping out from under her eyelashes. It hurt too much to care. The very rhythm of her heart beat in one song, “Boromir, Boromir, Boromir”. His name swam in her head; it was so difficult to accept that he was gone. Gone forever.
The last time she had ever seen him had been two years ago, but at least she had known that he was still there, in Minas Tirith, living his life. It had been a comfort to her, knowing that one person she loved still lived, when she had lost her parents, her sister. Even if she could not be by his side, he could be in her thoughts.
Now she did not even have that.
Sensing that Aravir stood behind her still, she picked up her cloak from where it lay on the forest floor, and slung it over her shoulders. She brought the hood up over her head and started towards the trees, when she heard his voice call out towards her.
“Wait!”
She did not turn; her fists clenched. “What is it you want?” What did he want from her? She had given him food and a place to sleep and here their acquaintance ended. Spinning round suddenly, she glared at him. “What do you want from me?”
Meeting her gaze with sudden determination, he shrugged and adjusted the strap of his quiver. “The assurance of your safety,” he replied. “You and I both know that Ithilien is no safe realm to dwell in nowadays.”
“We have discussed this already,” she said. “I am perfectly safe. I have attempted to cut your throat twice. Can you not see that I am perfectly able to defend myself? Perhaps you think that all women are fragile and need to be protected?”
“Yes, I can well see that you are not feeble. You have no need of my protection, certainly, I can see that. But something is coming, a new danger. Everything is changing, war is coming.”
“And I will face it readily enough when I meet it.”
“You and whose army? An army of one?”
Stepping forward, Goldleaf’s anger was kindled. “What do you care? You know nothing of me,” she retorted.
“If you wish to fight, then come with me,” he suddenly urged. “Come to Minas Tirith.”

~~~
Minas Tirith.
Minas Tirith, where Goldleaf and Boromir had met all those nights. Going back there would bring back so many memories. The beauty of the sunset in the evening, the midnight shade of the sky at night. They way they could talk with each other for hours on end. She could remember how he used to hold her hand; the way he had stroked her hair as if there was nothing more amazing to him than the golden hue of her locks. They had been everything to each other; two hearts meeting, colliding so suddenly after meeting each other. Goldleaf had no doubt that they had been made for one another. How could they not have belonged together, when they thought so alike? Their relationship may have ended long ago, but Goldleaf’s love for Boromir had remained steady and constant.
She sat in the camp now, thinking. She had avoided revisiting all the scenes of her old life for so long now. Deliberately, she had never gone back to Osgiliath. She had been punishing herself. Too much had changed now for her to go back to a normal life, and now that war loomed over Gondor, whose life would ever be normal again?
She did want to fight. She had always wanted to, it was the very reason she had trained with a sword since she was a young girl. More than anything she wanted to fight for her country, to protect that country that she loved, that Boromir had loved. And she wanted to make him proud.
Gondor could not fall. She could not let it. She knew that she was only one person, but the strength and courage of one heart is not to be underestimated. Especially a heart motivated by love.
Maybe Aravir was right; maybe she should go to Minas Tirith. Not because he asked it of her, but because she owed it to Boromir, who was no longer here to defend his beloved city of Minas Anor. Goldleaf knew how badly Gondor had needed him; he had had courage, so much courage. In a sudden flash she remembered his brother, Faramir, who would now have to carry the burden of responsibility alone.
Faramir was brave, and wise. It was a great pity that his father could never have loved him the way he loved Boromir, for his youngest son was more valiant than he knew, and the people loved him.
Silent, Goldleaf leaned her head in her hands. What was she to do? The answer already lay in her heart, but the decision was so difficult. Closing her eyes, a sudden memory came back to her of a night in Minas Tirith, when she and Boromir had stood at their usual place, gazing out into the night.

“Hope is so difficult to hold onto sometimes.”
Goldleaf looked up at Boromir’s serious face. He looked so solemn that she wanted to hug him. She smiled, and shook her head. “Hope is always with us,” she replied. “Even in the darkest of times. Boromir, anyone would feel as you do with the responsibilities you carry.”
He looked down at her, smiling. Taking her hand, his eyes shone. “I am sorry of my somber mood. This mood comes upon me whenever there is trouble with my father.” He paused. “Between him and Faramir.”
She squeezed his hand. “You are not your father,” she said softly.
“What will we do, Goldleaf? When the darkness comes? When hope becomes all but impossible?”
She looked at him very steadily, her blue eyes bright. “The answer’s simple,” she said. “Fight.”

Opening her eyes, Goldleaf sat up straight.
Fight.
She would take heed of her past words. She would fight. And she would do it for Boromir. Not even death could break her love for him. A tiny smile trembling upon her lips, she brushed away the tears that trickled from her eyes.
Hearing a footstep behind her, she turned, and looked at Aravir. His gaze was questioning.
“Yes,” she said, shortly. “Yes, I will go to Minas Tirith.”

_________________


~~Siggy by Lembas~~

Mah Aravirrrr! Hehehe.
You're portraying him so perfectly.

Anyway, Goldleaf's changed so much, but in a good way. To borrow a quote from Hawthorne, "...her experiences had made her graver, more womanly, and deeper-eyed, in token of a heart that had begun to suspect its depths..." Though perhaps the "more womanly" part is stretching it?

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