So, I have started another fanfic! Most of you will probably have heard of my OC/canon pairing, Goldomir (Goldleaf&Boromir), and this fanfic will tell their story from beginning to end. So sit back and enjoy the enevitable tragedy of their tale! I hope you enjoy it! goldyxxx

~~~

“My son, you know as well as I do that Osgiliath is vulnerable. I am counting on you to make it secure.”
Boromir looked up at his father, sitting imperiously on the chair of the Steward, the seat of polished black stone that sat ever in the shadow of the empty, higher seat of the king. No man had walked up those steps in a very long time, and if Lord Denathor had his way, no man ever would again.
“I understand, father,” Boromir said. He sat beside him on a lower chair. “You know that you can count on me. But we are well protected also by Faramir’s rangers in Ithilien. They will not sit idle while the enemy walk through the forest.”
“Faramir?” Denathor dismissed his younger sun with a shake of his head. “I am looking to you. I am putting my trust in you. You are the first son of the city and it is your duty. Do not so lightly put your brother forward.”
“He is as capable as I,” Boromir said, a fierce resentment building up inside him, but his sense of duty and obedience to his father curbing any outward sign of it. “I do not see why you put me before him.”
Denathor reached out and gripped Boromir’s hand. “You are strong,” he insisted. “I can rely upon you. Who knows what is going on in your brother’s head? Did you not see it when Mithrandir last came to us? Faramir reveres him. I know what Mithrandir’s wish is and it is to see me fall, ultimately… I do not trust the wizard but your brother puts his faith in him. His faith should only be to his lord.”
Boromir wanted to snatch his hand away but he could not. “Father,” he said gently. “You have nothing to fear. You are the lord of the city, no one can question that. All I say to you is that Faramir has ever been loyal to you.”
“You can go.” Denathor released his son’s hand. “But come back at midday. I want you to take luncheon with me.”
Boromir knew this was a dismissal, that Denathor had tired of the subject. He rose up from his seat and bowed. “As you wish, father,” he said. Denathor smiled at him and watched as Boromir walked away to leave the hall.
Once the great doors slammed shut behind him, Boromir sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked out at the courtyard, the withered White Tree. The tree of the king, that would never flower again. Walking past it, the great burden of responsibility weighed heavy on his mind. His father would ever look to him to set matters to right, to fight for their causes. His duty would be to Gondor for the rest of his life; he did not despair of it, because he loved his country, and would never fail it, at whatever cost. But the knowledge that there would be no room for anything else besides this great responsibility made him feel cold inside; the knowledge that his father put him before his brother in everything made him feel colder still.

~~~
“Girls! How wonderful it is to see you!”
The two sisters smiled somewhat guardedly at their enthusiastic aunt, who stood on the threshold of the front door of her house, keen to hurry them inside. Aunt Morwen was a plump, friendly woman, and she meant well, but sometimes her enthusiasm could get a little too much.
“Aunt,” said the eldest of the girls, Silverleaf, her voice smooth and polite. “You are very kind to invite us here.”
“Nonsense! It was the least I could do! You girls needed a break from all those household chores in Osgiliath. I said to your father, they need to see the city, and get a different aspect on life! Come in, come in!” Morwen beamed.
The sisters followed her into the house, walking behind her down the small hallway. The youngest looked around as she walked, taking in her new surroundings with bright blue eyes. A smile was forming on her lips. She loved the city; it was so beautiful, so very grand. She could not wait to see what the sunset looked like from here. She had determined that she would find an empty wall to stand upon to watch the sun go down over the Pelennor fields.
“Goldleaf! Keep up!” Silverleaf snapped over her shoulder.
The girl, Goldleaf, realized she had been dawdling, and promptly walked quicker to catch up with her sister and aunt. Finally, they were led into a small, cosy kitchen, where Morwen ushered them into two seats at the little wooden table.
“Now!” Morwen smiled. “Let me take a look at you.”
She assessed Silverleaf first. She was looking well, dressed in pale grey, a colour which suited her; her colouring was pale, and her hair was a pale blonde, smoothed back from her elegant features. She was a beautiful girl, and very mindful of decorum and politeness.
Morwen’s gaze switched to Goldleaf. The younger sister was dressed in white, and seemed to radiant a vibrant excitement at being somewhere new. Her hair was brighter than her sister’s, warm and golden, and twisted back from her face. Though she was pale, everything about her seemed bright; she was lovely in a way that was different from Silverleaf’s cool looks. And her eyes; they were the brightest blue, and light danced in them. Morwen smiled approvingly.
They were both very pretty girls, in their own different ways. No doubt one day they would make excellent matches. Morwen was only too keen to see them settled down and happy. She had high hopes that she would be able to act as a matchmaker for them.
“Now then!” she exclaimed. “Let me get you both something to eat.”
“Thank you, Aunt Morwen,” Goldleaf said. “Do you need any help?” she looked as if she was about to rise from the table, but Morwen shook her head, tutting at her fondly.
“No, no, dear! You both do enough work at home, from the accounts I’ve heard. Your mother tells me you both rise ridiculously early in the morning to get the chores done. Now I’m only saying, mind, but it strikes me two young girls such as yourselves shouldn’t be working so hard!” she busied herself about her kitchen, preparing food on plates.
“We don’t mind helping, aunt,” Silverleaf said. “We couldn’t leave all the work to mother.”
“She works hard enough as it is,” Goldleaf said.
Morwen laid out two plates before them of sliced apples and thick slices of buttered bread. “There you go, dears. No, indeed, one couldn’t abandon your mother to the household jobs. But even so. I think you’ll find city life a big change!”
“We can’t be away for very long,” Silverleaf specified.
“No, no,” Morwen stepped back, brushing her hands. “But it’s been made plain to me that you both need a break.” She smiled.
“Silverleaf’s very stubborn, Aunt Morwen,” Goldleaf grinned. “She thought we oughtn’t to have come. But mother and father insisted.” She bit into a piece of bread.
“Of course they did!” Morwen cried. “They want you girls to have some fun.”
Silverleaf did not comment, but went about eating her meal, obviously not keen to contribute to this current conversation. She felt that it was her obligation above everything to help her family.
“Now, do you have any plans as to what you want to do while you’re here?” Morwen asked.
Goldleaf did not reply. She did not tell Morwen of her plan to watch the sunset, for fear she would be laughed at, or have unwelcome companions brought along with her. This was something that she wanted to do alone. She glanced at Silverleaf, who had also failed to reply. Morwen waited.
“No ideas?” she prompted.
“I might go down to the market,” Silverleaf finally said. Morwen raised her eyebrows.
“Oh, you don’t want to do that, dear! You’d have a dull time,” she said. Silverleaf shook her head.
“There might be things that we want for in Osgiliath,” she said. “Goods brought down to lower prices, maybe.” She brushed her hands of crumbs. “I wish you wouldn’t look down your nose at practicality, Aunt Morwen.”
There was a small silence.
“I don’t do that,” Morwen said hesitantly. “I just care about you girls. I don’t want you to spend your lives without a moment’s bit of fun and look back on it in regret.”
“Come now,” Goldleaf broke in hurriedly, eager for there not to be a falling out. “Neither of you meant offence. We know you mean very well, Aunt Morwen, and we’re very grateful to you.” She looked pointedly at Silverleaf. “Aren’t we?”
“Yes, indeed,” Silverleaf said, offering a ghost of a smile. “I hope we understand one another, Aunt Morwen.”
“Oh, we do.” Morwen nodded and smiled, extremely grateful to Goldleaf for intercepting. “Now! Who wants some cake?”

~~~
The afternoon came quickly, and Boromir returned to the hall, where his father was waiting, grim in his chair, being attended by his servants. His attendants, as usual, were silent; they moved around the hall like ghosts. Only when Denathor saw his son did his give the faintest flicker of a smile.
“Ah! Boromir!” he said. “Come and sit by my side.”
Boromir went forward. “Of course, father.”
One hour passed as father and son shared lunch together. The subject Denathor had raised that morning was not mentioned again; instead they spoke of matters that were of little consequence. But Boromir had not forgotten his father’s words. Osgiliath is vulnerable.
He would never let it fall. His country meant everything to him, there could be nothing more important. He was bound to it with his life, with his heart. His father knew this. But what Denathor would not acknowledge was that it meant as much to his brother Faramir as it did to him; that there was and never had been any reason to favour Boromir above Faramir.
Boromir had often thought that it was because Faramir reminded their father too much of their mother, whom Denathor had loved more than any one person in the world. Now she was gone, that all-consuming love had been transferred to his first son.
“Now.” Denathor interrupted Boromir’s thoughts, brushing his hands of bread crumbs. “Will you take some wine with me?”
A servant came forward to pour red wine from a ewer into the two glasses. Denathor raised his glass to Boromir with a small, grim smile, and then to his lips. There was a long stretch of silence.
“What do you think…” Denathor held his glass, gazing out into the middle distance. “…what do you think will become of Gondor when I am gone?”
The question surprised Boromir. He raised his eyebrows. “Why, father, I will come after you,” he replied. “I will let no hurt come to our country, you know it. Faramir and I shall be here after you.”
Denathor nodded.
“You know that nothing, nothing can be more important than this country,” he specified. He turned his hard eyes on Boromir; they were utterly bereft of light. They looked sad, unhappy, but utterly determined. “I trust you above all others, my son. I am leaving you behind my legacy.”
What that legacy was, he did not say. But it appeared obvious. A people whose hope faded daily, a city sitting on the very edge of some unknown disaster. But Boromir still believed he could yet change that. He had to believe it; the will burned in his very blood. He gave his father a small smile and reached out to take his hand.
“I promise you, father,” he said. “This is all that matters.”

~~~
Goldleaf sat before the small dressing table in the room she and her sister shared. She was raking her fingers through the golden wisps of hair that had escaped from the bun at that back of her head; they framed her delicate features. She tried to smooth the strands back into place, sighing somewhat irritably. Silverleaf sat behind her on her bead, watching with a disapproving expression. “Where are you going?” she asked, her tone taking on a crisp edge. Goldleaf turned around.
“Oh…” she shrugged. “I’m just going to have a look around.” With one last glance in the mirror, she finally gave up on trying to tame the unruly locks of hair and slid off the stool placed before the dressing table.
“It’ll get dark soon,” Silverleaf said. “You shouldn’t wander about on your own, especially not in the city.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Goldleaf said. “And you forget that I’m perfectly capable of defending myself. If any robber dared approach I’d send him flying in seconds.” She smiled at her sister, trying to soothe her into laughing.
Silverleaf’s expression remained unamused. “What would Aunt Morwen say?”
“You don’t care what Aunt Morwen would say,” Goldleaf said. “You can’t stand her, I know you can’t, so don’t use her as an excuse.”
“You always do this!” Silverleaf accused. “You always run off, you have to go and find somewhere to explore. You have to go about doing things your own way. Why can’t you just settle down?”
Goldleaf paused. She had been in the middle of heading for the door. “Why are you in such a bad mood, Silverleaf?” she said quietly. “If we’re going to ask questions.”
“I just worry about you, that’s all.” Silverleaf sighed. “I’d hate to see you get hurt.”
Goldleaf slowly made her way back towards her sister. She leaned down and hugged her. “You don’t need too,” she said simply. Silverleaf resisted for a few moments, determined to stay in a bad mood, until she finally gave in and hugged Goldleaf back.
“I won’t stay out that late. Do you really want to know where I’m going? I just want to watch the sunset go down. Are you happy?” Goldleaf smiled. “Now, do you think you will let me go now?” She pulled gently back.
Silverleaf smiled. “Off you go then,” she said with a small laugh, and watched as Goldleaf softly opened the door and went out into the hall, shutting it behind her.

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~~Siggy by Lembas~~

*is officially a stalker/fan* I've been waiting to hear Goldomir's official story, and I'm glad it's finally here!

I'm quite intrigued with Silverleaf! She seems to be quite a lot like me. And plus, Silverleaf....SilverRose...heehee. I'm looking forward to hearing more about teh Goldomir!

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

Thanks Silvery! Part 2 is here!

~~~

Goldleaf slipped out of the front door of her aunt’s house, making sure to close the front door very quietly. She supposed Aunt Morwen would be taking a nap, before she got up again and went about making tea. She’d notice Goldleaf was gone then, but she trusted Silverleaf not to get her into any trouble.
She walked down the cobbled streets; it was strange walking around here so late. It was quiet, and there weren’t many people about; as she passed the market she noticed that most of the stallholders were closing up for the night. But it was still light, and the last of the sun cast a wonderful glow over the white-stone buildings.
She would have to go higher than this level of the city to find a spot with a good view. She lightly went up a swirling series of steps, steeply leading up to the next level.
She passed a stern-looking group of soldiers looking out over the wall. That was a no then. She couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder at them, admiring the grandeur of their uniform. They looked as tall as kings in their black-and-silver.
Goldleaf went along the next street. It was slightly busier here, people were bustling around, carrying bundles of food, purchases bought at the market. No chance of watching the sun go down quietly here.
Eventually, Goldleaf patiently winded round upwards two levels. By this time her legs were aching and she wasn’t sure exactly where she was. All she knew was that it was much quieter up here, and no one was around. She guessed they’d all either gone to bed, or were busy higher up the city. She certainly noticed that this area had a much grander look about it than the houses down a few levels, even if some of them were as derelict.
She looked around as she walked the empty streets. She could catch a glimpse of the sunset from round the corner; the wall appeared to be empty there, and it looked as if it would give her a perfect view of the Pelennor. She might be able to see Osgiliath from there.
Her step took on a determined edge. There were small steps leading down and around to the wall, and she approached them with growing excitement.
She lightly went down the first few steps, and then, as she was about to continue, she abruptly stopped, her mouth going dry.
There was someone already there.
Not just someone… no, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be him, could it? Yet she felt she recognized the figure standing there at the wall, arms folded on the edge, not clad in his formal Gondorian uniform now. He wore a plain dark red tunic and carried no sword.
It was him. She knew that now as he turned his head and saw his face. The first son of the steward. Of course she recognized him, everyone did. He had come to Osgiliath once. Not that she had been as near to him as this then; she had been near the back of a crowd, and he had been far away.
Her voice seemed utterly caught in her throat and she was unable to speak. She panicked as he looked at her, and she had a strong desire to just back away.
“Do not look so worried.”
She stared at him. He was talking. Actually talking to her. He gave a small, wry smile.
“I am sorry to have bothered you,” she finally said, finding her voice; it was very quiet, and quite croaky in her nerves. “I did not mean… I did not see you from around the corner, my lord.”
He said nothing more, but an almost amused expression appeared on his face. Flustered, she continued.
“It’s just… it’s just I wanted to watch the sunset from an empty wall, and, and… I honestly did not see you, my lord,” she said, afraid she was babbling. Then, the most surprising thing happened. He laughed.
“You do not bother me,” he said. “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.” His smile was genuine. She swallowed; he seemed so kind. Hesitantly, she went down the last of the steps.
She felt almost afraid to go up to him. He had invited her to stand beside him. Boromir, son of Lord Denathor. She felt as if she was hallucinating. Yet he was real, he was standing there smiling at her.
Very slowly, she went to stand beside him. Trying to fight back her nerves, she looked out at the view she had so longed to see. Her breath felt almost cut off in her throat; it was exactly as she had imagined, or even better. The sky had faded to a warm orange, and the light that went down upon the fields was beautiful. A smile stretched on her lips.
She shook her head, amazed. “It’s so beautiful,” she said.
“It is.” Goldleaf could almost detect a hint of sadness in his tone as he agreed with her. She glanced sideways and he was watching the sunset with as rapt an expression as hers. Then he looked back at her and she quickly looked away, embarrassed at having been caught looking at him. Why did she feel so flustered? He was just a person, like anyone else. Yet he wasn’t a normal person; he was far above her, and by all rights she shouldn’t be standing there beside him. It wasn’t something that happened every day. It felt like a dream; but this was far beyond anything she could have ever dreamed of.
“So, what is your name?” he asked.
“Goldleaf,” she replied. “And I do not need to ask you yours.” That was a certainty; he knew that she knew who he was. He smiled his small, crooked smile.
“Goldleaf,” Boromir repeated. It was an unusual name. “That’s a beautiful name. And no, I suppose you don’t.” He laughed. He was used to everyone knowing who he was, treating him with reverence.
“Thank you,” she replied, trying desperately not to stammer. She gave a small laugh. She knew that she probably sounded nervous; this was not what she was used to.
Turning her gaze back to the view, she laid down one hand on the balcony. Instead of the cold stone of the rail, she felt Boromir’s hand, the warmth of his skin, under hers. Horrified, she snatched her hand away and inwardly cringed. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking…”
Was she making a complete fool of herself? She certainly hadn’t meant to touch his hand, and the silence that stretched out made her wonder if his patience with her had reached his end. But when she took one agonized look at him she saw that his smile had not gone.
His eyes were warm. He said nothing, but instantly Goldleaf could see that it was alright.
A few moments past as they stood there and watched the sunset; Goldleaf’s heart was hammering. She felt as if it was about to take flight like a bird.
“So, are you new to Minas Tirith?”
Goldleaf raised her head at his question. “Yes, I’m afraid I am. I’m from Osgiliath,” she replied. “My sister and I are staying with my aunt, who lives here.”
“Ah, Osgiliath,” Boromir said. “A beautiful city.” He sounded wistful. “So you’ve never been here before?”
“Once, years ago,” Goldleaf said. “When I was a child. I’ve never had much time to come here again, but… well, I’m glad I’m here now.” A tiny smile flickered on her lips.
Boromir nodded. He looked at her as she gazed out over the wall; she was clad all in white, and the warmth of the late evening sun made her hair glow brighter. She seemed to have relaxed now; he had not intended nor wished for her to be nervous around him.
She turned her head. Their eyes met and she ducked her head, that anxious feeling fleeting through her again. He did not look away. “I’m glad to have some company this night,” he said, sincerely. “I often stand here solitary. It makes a nice change.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but could find no words. Before she could reply to him properly, he raised a different subject of conversation, something simple. The comfortable ordinariness of his speech put her at her ease, and she answered. Soon they found that there were no pauses between their conversation; they talked about more things, and strangely found they had much in common.
One hour passed, and it was getting dark.
“…and my father forges swords. He has a real skill with it, many of the soldiers in the city come to him for their blades.” They had reached the topic of her family, after talking of a great score of matters. Goldleaf gave a small smile. “Do you want to know something?”
“What?” Boromir leaned forward, with a mock-conspirator’s smile. Goldleaf laughed.
“I train with the swords he makes,” she admitted. “I have done ever since I was a little girl. To learn the art of war. Go on, laugh at me. Be shocked.”
Boromir raised an eyebrow. “You can wield a blade?” he said incredulously.
“I certainly can,” she replied. “I know, it’s strange, and probably pointless… I know that no one would ever let me fight. But I want to be able to defend myself, should the time ever arise.”
“Well, all I shall say is that that is extraordinary,” Boromir said. Goldleaf beamed at him. It had grown quite dark now, she noticed; Silverleaf would probably be worrying.
“Oh,” she said.
“Oh what?”
“It’s late. I didn’t notice quite how late it was getting. I really should be going,” Goldleaf said.
“Oh.” He comically echoed her, and she gave a small laugh. “Well…”
She felt an odd strain inside her, an urge to ask him if she could see him again, to talk as they had done tonight. But she knew that she should not, and that he probably would not want to meet again, especially with a girl of such a lower rank than he.
“Would you like to talk here again tomorrow?” he asked.
She was amazed. “Really?” she said.
“Yes, really,” he replied. “I come here every night. And I enjoyed your company.”
“Then, of course,” she said. “Yes, I would like to.”
“Seven o’clock?” he smiled.
She nodded, reflecting his smile. “Yes,” she said. “Now, I really must go.”
“Alright.” He reached out and took one of her hands, holding it for a moment. She took a small intake of breath, before he gently released it, nodding. Not wanting to look away from him, she looked over her shoulder as she went over to the steps.
He was smiling. “Goodbye,” he said.
“Goodbye.” Reaching the bottom of the steps, she finally had to look away as she headed down the street. Had that really happened? Had she just arranged to meet with the son of the Steward tomorrow? She felt as if she was soaring. What an amazing night.
Knowing that Silverleaf would be waiting for her, she quickened her step, her heart pounding.

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~~Siggy by Lembas~~

Oooh, their first meeting! I'm loving it, Goldy, and I hope to see more soon!

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Banner from Nellie

*squees and takes a deep breath* I SUPPORTTTTTTT!!!!!!! That was absolutely brilliant, Goldie! I love the way you wrote Boromir. He seems so real and compassionate, and if anything, you just made fall for his character. Again, it was positively amazing! *wants more*

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

Thanks guys!!
Part 3 is up!

~~~

Goldleaf closed the front door of her aunt’s house quietly behind her. The house was quiet as she tiptoed softly down the hallway, hoping not to wake anyone who was asleep. She went past the main room up towards the staircase, and went up the stairs towards the room that had been allocated to her and Silverleaf.
Candlelight glimmered through the small chinks in the door of their room. Taking a deep intake of breath so as to prepare herself for any scolding her sister might deal out, she opened the door and stepped in, closing it behind her, biting down on her bottom lip.
She turned. Silverleaf was sitting on her bed, hands folded on her lap, a tight-lipped expression of disapproval on her face.
“You’re very late,” she commented coldly.
“I know.” Goldleaf moved towards her. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”
“How, exactly?” Silverleaf queried. “Watching the sunset? Does it take so very long?”
“Alright.” Goldleaf sat down on her own bed and faced her sister with as much calmness as she could muster. “I was watching the sunset. But… but I wasn’t by myself.”
“What?” Silverleaf leaned forward, looking horrified. “You don’t know anyone!”
“You don’t need to look so shocked! I just came across him by accident…”
“Him?”
“Yes, him. The wall I wanted to watch at was occupied, by a rather nice young man as it happens.” Goldleaf swallowed. She didn’t dare tell her sister who that nice young man was, because she wouldn’t believe her. “We talked. It grew dark without me noticing.”
“Do you expect me to be calm, Goldleaf, as you tell me you just forgot it got dark as you whiled away the time with a nice young man?” Silverleaf hissed. “What’s his name, then?”
“I-I…” Goldleaf stammered. Silverleaf’s reaction was overwhelming. A part of her felt like she was spoiling the wonderful evening she’d had with Boromir, deliberately spoiling it. But that wasn’t true. She was just worried.
“Tell me,” Silverleaf insisted.
“Boromir,” Goldleaf blurted out. A long silence hung between the two sisters. Silverleaf weighed over the name, frowning.
“Well that’s a coincidence,” she said sarcastically. “The same name as the Steward’s son, how imaginative of you. Tell me his name.”
Goldleaf shook her head. “I told you.”
“Stop lying to me!”
“I’m not lying to you!” Goldleaf said, getting angry, clenching her teeth, trying to keep her voice down so as not to wake Aunt Morwen. “When have I ever lied to you before? It was him. It was… the son of the Steward.”
Silverleaf heard no lie in her sister’s words. But it was still something so unlikely, something that could have been made up in Goldleaf’s imagination. “What?” she said quietly.
“I know how ridiculous it sounds. But I went up quite a few levels to find that wall… to the much grander part of the city. I didn’t see him from where I was standing, but there he was when I went to stand there… oh Silverleaf, I made such a fool of myself at first,” Goldleaf said. “I babbled, I stuttered, I must have seemed so foolish. But he was so kind to me. And we did start talking.”
Silverleaf took her sister’s hand. “This is too strange to take in,” she said softly. “You are not lying to me?”
“No,” Goldleaf said. “You know I would not, I would never lie to you, Silverleaf.” A small smile broke out upon her lips, and she was sure that she looked ridiculously happy. “This was the most amazing night of my life.”
“Why would he talk to someone like you? I mean, someone poor,” Silverleaf said.
“We’re not poor,” Goldleaf said.
“Well, compared to him, we are,” Silverleaf said. “Why did he simply not send you away?”
“He’s not like that,” Goldleaf instantly defended him. She wondered how this sudden change had come about simply by an hour’s talking; but she felt as if she knew him. “He’s really not. He’s not… grand and high and imperious. Well of course he is very grand, but not in the way one would expect. Boromir…” she bit her lip as she said his name out loud, “…I don’t know how to put it. I feel myself as if I have dreamed this, Silverleaf, as if I conjured it up inside my head. But I was there, speaking to him.”
Silverleaf gave a small laugh and pulled her sister into a hug. Goldleaf hugged her tightly back.
“He wants to see me again,” Goldleaf murmured against her sister’s hair. Silverleaf instantly pulled back.
“He does?” she said. “Why?”
“We got along well,” Goldleaf said.
“But he’s the first son of the lord of the city, and you’re… well, you’re a girl from Osgiliath,” Silverleaf said.
“So?” Goldleaf said, her tone taking on a fierce edge.
“Well, why should he form a friendship with you?”
“Why do stations in life always have to come into everything! If I wish to be his friend, and he wishes to be mine,” Goldleaf said. “I am going to meet him tomorrow evening. I’ll be fine. Please, just, just don’t spoil this.”
“I remember when he came on a visit to Osgiliath.” Silverleaf shook her head. “You remember?”
“Yes.”
“We were standing right at the back of the crowd that had gathered for him and his retinue, remember, and even from there we could see the brightness of his attire,” Silverleaf said. “He looked so noble. Not the kind of man to strike up conversation with a girl of such a lower status than him.”
“Well, you misjudged him,” Goldleaf said. “He behaved so very courteously, very kindly. I felt as if I had known him forever.” She sat on her bed, falling silent, looking away from Silverleaf.
Silverleaf looked at her.
“Did he make such an impression on you?” she said.
“He did,” Goldleaf replied softly. “He did.”

~~~
Boromir sat down in his chair, watching the flames in the small fireplace crackling. He had just arrived back in the courts of his father, after unexpectedly spending his evening, usually spent alone, speaking with a young woman who had accidentally come across him, wishing to stand at his favourite spot to watch the sun go down.
She had been so nervous; she had not known that he stood there every night. But something within him had told him that he should invite her to stand there beside him; he had no wish to cause her anxiety. Once her nerves had disappeared, there had been something so vibrant, so fascinating about her. The way her eyes lit up when she smiled, the way she turned her head to look at him and laugh.
Boromir poured himself a glass of wine from the ewer on the small table beside him. What was going on in his head? He had arranged to meet with her again tomorrow. When she had told him that she had to leave, there had been a small fear in the back of his mind that he would not see her again, that he would never again speak with someone the way he had spoken with her.
He briefly remembered his words to his father.
This is all that matters.
He had meant it. What would his father say if he knew he had befriended a girl from Osgiliath? He would, naturally, be furious, and tell Boromir to discard any involvement with her immediately. The thought of that made Boromir’s heart sink.
He remembered taking her hand before she left; remembered the way she looked back at him over her shoulder as she went down the steps, unwilling to look away.
They had spoken together for an hour, yet it felt as if it had been longer, as if they had known each other for years. They had talked about so much; once the ice was broken they had not been able to stop talking. It had been like a revelation; Boromir had never before spoken to someone in such depth, with such meaning.
And she was beautiful. More beautiful than the sunset they had watched go down over the Pelennor fields together. She reminded him of a queen of old, a woman of Numenor from days long past; golden, a lovely pale flower. A fragile vision he was afraid might break if he blinked.
Sighing, he took a sip of his wine. There was nothing wrong with this friendship. But the thought of seeing her again made his heart skip a beat faster, and a small shiver go down his spine.

~~~
Silverleaf had blown out the candle in their room. Goldleaf sat up in her bed, hugging the covers around her knees. She could not sleep. Her meeting with the son of the Steward was still vivid in her mind, she could think of nothing else.
She took a deep breath, gazing out ahead into the darkness.
Boromir.
The name echoed in her head like the ringing of a bell. She would see him again tomorrow. She did not know how she would get through all of tomorrow, waiting to meet him upon that wall again.
She clasped her fingers together, biting down on her bottom lip.
Boromir.

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~~Siggy by Lembas~~

*falls over* That paragraph is poetry, sheer poetry. I'm loving the new chapter! I do think that Silverleaf's confrontation was a little extreme, but it fits in line with what I know of her character so far. I just realized how similar this seems to Seragorn so far; or rather, Seragorn is a lot like this. Two lords of Gondor fall for shy young women. *squees*

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

Thank you!!
Part 4 is finally up - beware, much soppiness! I've got so much planned for this fanfic. I know that Goldomir's going to have a unhappy ending, but it's so sweet writing about their first meetings, before the tragedy happens!
Enjoy!

~~~

The next day, evening.
It had been a long and exasperating day; first Goldleaf had accompanied Silverleaf to the market. Her sister had wanted to look for spices, and there had been no avoiding going with her. It was either that or spending the morning with Aunt Morwen, whose topics of conversation were fast growing tedious.
The afternoon had been spent helping Morwen prepare a stew to be eaten that evening. By the time it was put to boil the meat and sauce of the stew smelt delicious, but Goldleaf knew she would be eating none of it. She had other plans.
Now, she sat once more at her dressing table, surveying her appearance. She felt decidedly nervous; would Boromir talk to her as friendlily this time? In fact, would he have changed his mind, and send her away? Would he be there at all?
But, taking a deep breath, she pushed these thoughts aside. He had told her he wanted to see her again. Seven o’clock, this evening. She looked at her reflection. Her hair was twisted back as it usually was, and she wore a gown of dark blue, embroidered with tiny white stars at the neckline and hem. It was one of her best gowns, and the midnight shade of the cloth made her eyes flicker darker.
Her pale hands clenched on her lap. What did it matter what she looked like? But she wanted to prove that she wasn’t just some poor girl from Osgiliath, that she was worth a second conversation with the eldest son of the Steward. Silverleaf had been wrong when she’d said Boromir wasn’t the kind of man to deign to talk to her.
Taking another long, deep breath, trying to calm herself, she rose from the small stool and smoothed her skirts. She could not wait to see him again. One question plagued her mind; would he feel the same?

~~~
Boromir leaned against the rails of the wall, watching the sky fade to burnt amber. He turned as he heard soft footsteps coming up the stairs, and a smile formed on his lips as he saw Goldleaf. He had been waiting, a score of questions going through his mind. But the sight of her eased them, and he grinned, stepping forward.
Uncertainly, she dipped into a low curtsy. He frowned and stepped closer to her.
She looked up at him. He took one of her hands and raised her up. “There’s no need for that,” he said gently.
“I thought…” she shook her head, then gave a tiny laugh. “I thought it might be different this time.” She gave a small, rueful smile. “I was nervous.”
“No,” he said. “It wouldn’t be different.” He smiled down at her, her hand still in his. It was quavering slightly; she had been nervous. Slowly, his fingers linked through hers.
She tried to find something brilliant, something riveting to say, but was completely at a loss. All she could do was look at him; she felt a strange feeling fluttering in her stomach, and an urge to tear her gaze away, but no matter how anxious she felt, she found she could not. Finally, he released her hand.
Trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach, Goldleaf walked over to the wall. Boromir went to stand beside her. She leaned slightly against the railings, laying one arm on the balcony. The view, as it had done last night, took her breath away. It could never become tiresome; it surprised her that more people did not come up here just to see it. But she supposed most people took it for granted, it was something considered normal and everyday.
“I come up here every night,” Boromir said quietly. “But I have never yet tired of this spot.”
“When did you first start coming here?” Goldleaf looked at him, interested.
“When…” Boromir paused, then shook his head and shrugged. “I can honestly say I cannot remember. This has always been like a haven. An escape.”
“From what?” Goldleaf did not want to seem like she was intruding, but she could not help it. The tone of his voice alerted her he was speaking of something that pained him.
“May I be honest?”
“As honest as you like.”
“An escape from life,” he said. “My life… it is a constant duty, and rightly so, for my duty is to Gondor. But sometimes it can get tiring, sometimes I need rest. It’s hard to explain it. Just to come out here every night, and look out at this beauty…” he gestured towards the view, “…it helps,” he finished simply.
Goldleaf remained silent, but she timidly reached out and touched the tips of his fingers where they rested on the balcony beside hers. He wound his hand round hers and this time, he did not let go.
Eventually, after a long stretch of silence, Goldleaf spoke up.
“I know this will sound strange,” she said hesitantly, “but it feels as if I’ve known you for a lot longer than this.”
He looked at her quizzically. “It does?’
“Yes.” She was afraid she had sounded foolish.
“That’s not strange at all,” Boromir said. “That’s just what I’ve been thinking.”
Her heart almost skipped a beat.
“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.” Boromir spoke very quietly.
“Do you think so?”
“I do.” He looked at her. “I was racking my brains last night, wondering if I had been wrong to ask you here again. If I had been presuming. But, if I may be honest again, I have never spoken to anyone the way in which I spoke to you last night.”
“Of course you were not presuming,” Goldleaf insisted. “I was honoured that you should ask me. I would never have thought that someone like you would want to talk to… someone like me.”
“Someone like you?” Boromir turned properly to face her. “And who is someone like you?” his voice was soft.
“Well… poor,” she said, falteringly. “You are one of the highest men in the city. And I am not a grand lady.”
“Do you think I mind that?” he asked. “It matters nothing to me at all.” His gaze was very serious. “You are just perfect, Goldleaf.”
At that she gave a small, embarrassed laugh and averted her gaze to her feet. “I thank you. You are very kind. But I am certainly not perfect.”
His hand very gently tipped her chin up so that he could look at her. A small smile turned up his lips. “Well, I say you are,” he said, mock-seriously. “So I must be right.”
Laughing, she turned so that she could look out onto the wall properly. She still held his hand. Looking down at her, he smiled. Very slowly, her head tipped so that she could rest it against his shoulder. As they looked out at the setting sun, she could not think of any place in the world that she wanted to be more.
“Do you ever think about life on the other side of the river?” her voice was very quiet.
“Ithilien?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes. It must be so peaceful to live in such a beautiful place. I mean, it must have been, before it fell,” she said. “Sometimes I think about a time when the enemy is vanquished from our lands, and the forest could become a garden again.”
“The garden of Gondor,” Boromir said. “Yes. I very much wish to see the forest as fair as it once was. My brother is captain of the rangers of Ithilien. It is under his protection.”
“And I suppose he will make any orc that dares step foot on the forest earth pay?” she said jokingly.
He laughed. “Indeed he would.” He paused. “If only our father would see it that way.” His last words were very quiet, almost inaudible, but Goldleaf heard them.
“Your father?”
“Forgive me. I should not have said anything.”
“Does your father not… favour your brother highly?” she asked the question very carefully.
A pause. “No,” he said eventually. “It falls on my shoulders to be his favourite son, and I do not rejoice it. Not at the price of my brother’s rejection.”
“I am sorry,” Goldleaf said, awkwardly. “I do not quite know what to say. It must be very hard for you, and your brother. And for your father also. Much grief has befallen him.” She very delicately referred to Boromir’s mother’s death.
Boromir nodded. “Yes.” He glanced down at her. “Sometimes grief is the hindrance of all mankind.” He sighed. “But let us not speak of such grim matters. Look.” He outstretched his free hand to indicate the beautiful view that the balcony gave them. The setting sun was fading the sky to burnt amber.
“The most beautiful view in Gondor,” Goldleaf said.
“Agreed,” Boromir said, smiling. They stood there as they did for the rest of the evening, till it grew dark; never in their lives before had either of them known such complete peace and contentment.

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~~Siggy by Lembas~~

Awww, this line just made me smile softly. I really like how you're developing their story! I have one suggestion: Goldleaf seems like she needs just a little bit more confidence. I know she's definitely going to be incredibly nervous, but as she grows more comfortable with Boromir, I'd love to see her grow in confidence. As always, I'm your faithful stalker.

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

Once again, thank you, oh Silvery one! Part 5 is here!!! I loved writing this part

~~~

Early morning in Minas Tirith.
It had been exactly one week since Goldleaf and Boromir had met on the wall, and each evening since then they had stood together there. Each evening that passed, they knew each other better; it seemed to both of them that in one another they had found a kindred spirit, a fellow soul that understood them completely, someone that liked them so much for themselves.
Goldleaf was dozing in her room, her mind already straying to this evening. This had been the most magical week of her life. Never had she imagined that she would spend each evening of her time here with so very grand a person, but also a person so undeniably similar to her. She and Boromir shared the same sense of humour, the same loyalty, and maybe even the same stubbornness.
They both loved Gondor with the same sense of duty, the same sense of reverence; to them, this city of Numenor was more than just a place. To them, it represented the old wisdom, the beauty of their country, a living vision of an also distant memory. Goldleaf recognized the light that filled Boromir’s eyes when he spoke of Gondor; it endeared him so much to her.
And the more she grew to know him, the more she realized that it was not just fondness she felt for him, not just friendship. She had not yet dared to say it, even inside her head. But she knew that her feelings for him did not lie. When she saw him she felt as if her heart was turning over; when he spoke the sound of his voice sent shivers down her spine. When they had to say goodbye every night she wanted to turn, run back towards him and throw her arms around him.
I love him.
There seemed to be no denying it; she had only known him a week, but already she felt as if, should they ever stop seeing each other, all the happiness in life would drain away from her.
Her heart was utterly lost to him. But one question danced over and over again in her mind; did he feel the same way? When he held her hand she asked that question inside her head, when he turned to smile at her she asked it.
Sitting up on her bed, Goldleaf hugged the pillow to her. How suddenly and unexpectedly this had happened. She had never been in love before. But what would happen, if she was to admit her feelings to him? Would he laugh? Would he want to stop seeing her?
She hated this doubtfulness. She so wanted to tell him, to tell him how happy loving him had made her. It felt as if for all of her life something had been missing, and he was what had been missing; he completed her.
Tell him. Tell him tonight, then you will know if he loves you.
Goldleaf heaved a sigh. If he did not love her then she did not know how she would be able to bear it.

~~~
“I will see you at midday, Boromir.”
Boromir bowed to his father and left the great hall through a small side door. It took him through one of the long corridors of his father’s courts, and as his footsteps echoed on the marble floor, his mind was far away from the matters of state he had just been discussing with Lord Denathor.
He was thinking about Goldleaf. This was becoming unbearable; never in his life before had he felt this way about someone. He had met her every evening for a week now, and it was impossible to ignore the way he felt.
This was throwing everything into utter confusion. His feelings for Goldleaf seemed to throw his duties, his commitments out of the light; she was like a star that made everything else dim, however over-romantic that sounded.
He went through the door that led into his rooms. It shut behind him with thud.
He would see her again tonight. He had told no one that he had been meeting her these past seven days; he was sure, anyway, that his father would disapprove severely. Denathor did not seem to think there was any room in Boromir’s life for friendship, yet alone love.
Love?
Yes. That was what it was. Boromir swallowed as he made his way over to a chair to sit down. Gripping the armrests, he shook his head. He could scarcely believe it. What would Goldleaf say if he told her? Perhaps it would scare her off, surprise her into her stammering, embarrassed mode.
He wondered what she felt for him. He remembered the way her long fingers linked through his as he held her hand, the way she had rested her head gently against his shoulder.
Resting his head in the palms of his hands, he sighed. What on earth was going on in his heart? He had never fallen in love before, this was more than unusual for him.
He slowly straightened up in his seat. If I were a more foolish man, I’d say I was lovesick. He gave a small laugh at himself and sat back, thinking.

~~~
As she walked down the streets leading to the wall she and Boromir met at every night, she ran words over in her head, desperately trying to think of some way to express her feelings articulately, without sounding foolish. This was almost impossible! She was so afraid that he would laugh at her, and think that this was just the wild fancy of a girl.
I love you.
She sighed, wringing her hands.
Boromir, I’m in love with you.
She shook her head. Nothing sounded right at all! Her footsteps led her closer and closer to the spot where she knew that he would be waiting for her, and her heart started thudding. She went slowly down the steps, as she did every night.
Turning and seeing her, Boromir gave his usual grin. He was wearing a dark blue tunic, and it struck Goldleaf how handsome the colour made him look. She obstinately shook the thought from her head, not to be distracted.
“Goldleaf,” he said, stepping towards her. He noted her tense expression, and frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“You will think I am a fool,” she said, very quietly, more to herself than to him. He only just caught her words; taking her hands, he looked at her intently.
“If there is one thing you are, Goldleaf, it is definitely not a fool,” he said. “I’ve met plenty of fools in my lifetime, and you are most certainly not one of them.” He smiled at her, and she gave a small laugh. He always knew how to make her laugh.
“There is something I have to tell you,” she said eventually. “Something that I can’t hold back, that I dearly wish to say, that at the same time I dread to say.”
His look sobered. “What is it?”
She took a deep breath. “If I say it there is no unsaying it.”
“I’m curious now,” he attempted to make a joke. “Please, tell me.” He was ready to hear her tell him that she could not see him anymore, and he steeled himself against showing how devastated that would make him feel.
A small pause. “I love you.”
Boromir looked at her, astonished. A small moment of silence stretched out between them and Goldleaf’s hands relaxed in his, in case he wanted to let go. But instead, still holding her hands, he drew her just a little closer towards him.
“What?” he said, a brighter light than Goldleaf had ever seen dancing in his eyes. He was caught between hope, amazement and complete joy.
“I love you,” she repeated, speaking a little clearer. With that he laughed, and her stomach sank in dismay.
Reading her expression, he shook his head. “No! Goldleaf, I’m laughing for happiness,” he said. “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.” His last words were very soft.
Goldleaf have a small half-laugh, half-sob. Her hands tightened around his. “You do?”
“I do!” he replied, mirroring her joy. “And I believe I always have.”
After that there seemed to be nothing more to say. Slowly, Boromir bent down and kissed her. Goldleaf felt as if she was imagining this, as if it was simply a dream. Yet this was real. She put her arms around him and one thought remained constant in her head; this is what it feels like to be home.
After a few moments, he gently pulled back and, taking her by surprise, lifted her up off her feet and spun her around in circles, laughing. Laughing with him and half-shrieking as the spirals grew faster, she wound her arms round his neck in case he should accidentally drop her.
After a few more wild circles he placed her down on her feet. Both of them were a little dizzy and he took his hand to steady her. “I’m sorry,” he said, a laugh still in the back of his throat. “You have no idea how happy this has made me.”
“I do,” she replied, grinning, gripping his hand back as she tried to regain her balance. “Because it’s exactly how happy you’ve made me.”

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~~Siggy by Lembas~~

*sees update and pounces*

Awww, how cute! The last few lines are gorgeous. *cuddles* You know I love bittersweet stories, so I'm looking forward to the depressing part. That would sound so weird coming from anyone but me.

this is what it feels like to be home.

ADORABLE!!!

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

Hehe, the bittersweet part of this story is going to make me so sad Each chapter I write leads up to the tragedy! Eee! Here's chapter 6, already, heehee

~~~

The next day, morning.
Goldleaf sat up in her bed, noting the determined way her sister brushed her pale hair in front of their dressing table. Frowning, she swung her legs round so she could stand up. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Silverleaf glanced over her shoulder as she twisted her hair into a complicated knot at the back of her head. “But there’s something you should know.”
“What?” Goldleaf frowned. She had been awake for at least an hour, but she had been too busy daydreaming to even say good morning to her sister. There was something about Silverleaf’s expression that seemed shuttered down, smoothed, that Goldleaf didn’t like.
Patting down a few strands of hair, Silverleaf turned round properly in her seat. “We’re going home tomorrow.” Her grey-blue eyes watched Goldleaf carefully as she took this in, before she took a few steps backward, almost stumbling, before she sat back down on her bed with a thud and turned horrified blue eyes onto Silverleaf.
“Going home?” she said incredulously.
“Going home,” Silverleaf confirmed. “I thought you’d be upset.” She frowned warily. “Are you alright?”
“No! I’m not alright! We can’t go home, not yet…”
“And why not?”
Goldleaf raised her head, just looking at her. She did not need to say anything. Silverleaf weighed over the words left unsaid, and heaved a deep sigh.
“Boromir.”
Goldleaf nodded. “You know I’ve been meeting him this past week. Can’t you see, we can’t go! Not yet.” There was something strained and desperate about her tone of voice, and pained about her expression. Silverleaf rose from her stool and walked towards her.
“Surely you knew you had to stop seeing him sometime.”
Goldleaf shook her head. “No. He told me…” she bit down on her bottom lip, wondering whether she could trust Silverleaf with her words. She glanced up at her.
“What did he tell you?” Silverleaf sat down beside her.
“He told me he loves me,” Goldleaf said eventually. Silverleaf was silent for a few moments.
“And does he?” she said quietly. Goldleaf’s brow furrowed.
“Of course he does! He wasn’t lying,” she said. “And I love him. Silverleaf, I can’t stop seeing him. We can’t go home.”
“We have to go back home,” Silverleaf said grimly. “We can’t stay here forever. Aunt Morwen infuriates me more day by day, and I know that she irritates you too. We have to go back to help mother. How do you think she’s managing without us?”
“Are you even listening to me? It’s not as simple as that.”
“Alright, so you love him.” Silverleaf looked at her. “So what happens next? Do you think he’ll marry you?”
Goldleaf took a small intake of breath at that. “I…”
“Goldleaf, he wouldn’t marry you,” Silverleaf said. “He’s gentry, and you’re not.”
“We love one another,” Goldleaf said firmly.
“Either way, we’re still going back tomorrow,” Silverleaf said. “And you’ll have to tell him you can’t see him anymore.”
Goldleaf stood up, anger building up inside her like the flickering of flames. “I will tell him nothing of the sort,” she said. “Hear this. I will not stop seeing him, whatever you say, wherever we go. I will find a way to see him every night as I have done.”
With that she walked silently from the room, leaving Silverleaf sitting alone.

~~~
“Boromir!”
Goldleaf walked swiftly down the steps towards him, a smile breaking out on her lips, despite the thoughts that were whirling around her mind. Grinning, he opened his arms to her and she stepped forward and hugged him. His nearness to her was comforting, and as she rose her head she took a deep breath.
“There is something I must tell you.”
“Not another bombshell,” he joked. “There was something you had to tell me last night.”
She smiled. “I know,” she said. The fact that he returned her love still made her feel dizzy with joy. She looked at him somberly. “This is different. This is…” she shook her head. “This day has been a torment,” she said finally. She lifted her hands to her face. “I can’t tell you how awful it’s been.”
“Shh.” Boromir could hear the tears building up, the frantic note in her tone. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I have to go home tomorrow,” she said. “I have to leave here. It’s the last thing I want to do, but… how can I? How can I leave now, now that we know…” the last words were left hanging in the air, now that we know we love each other.
Boromir paused. “You have to leave?” he said, very quietly.
“It doesn’t mean I’ll stop seeing you,” she said instantly. “I would never stop seeing you. I’ll find a way, I’ll come back here every night. I have a horse, I can ride back here.”
“Goldleaf, you don’t have to…”
“I do,” she said. Her eyes met his and she met his gaze. He did not look away; his expression was very grave.
“I will never give up on you,” she said.
He pulled her back into the hug. Looking out at the night over her shoulder, a profound mixture of emotion was expressed in his features. A kind of pain, and a happiness that she should want to go to such lengths to continue seeing him.
“I love you,” she said quietly, murmuring into his shoulder.
“And I love you,” he replied. He closed his eyes, holding her.
After a few moments she pulled back to survey his face. She traced the outline of his cheekbone with her hand. “I don’t want to leave Minas Tirith,” she said. “I love my home, but… I can’t explain what this place means to me now.”
“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “It’s just how I feel. A sense of belonging to a place… this city is so unutterably beautiful, a legacy of the old days of Gondor, of Numenor.”
“Yes,” she said. “I cannot imagine leaving here now.”
He took her hand, looked down at the long, pale fingers which folded around his. Looking up, he smiled at her. She smiled back, as their hands linked, and they stood there in silence together, as night settled down around Gondor.

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~~Siggy by Lembas~~

This is so cute! I love how she's willing to do anything to see him, even if it means riding miles at night to get to him. I still can't wait for the tragedy to hit! Oh, me and my slightly morbid love for tragic-ness.

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

Heehee, you will like this extract then, Silvery The tragedy begins!

~~~

“Goldleaf, you can’t do this. I won’t allow you.”
Goldleaf glanced up at her sister, who had followed her out into the small stable yard. Goldleaf was strapping the saddle to her horse’s back, as it waited patiently for her. It’s owner’s blue eyes were as bright and unwavering as the sky.
“You’ll find that you can’t forbid me,” Goldleaf said simply. She buckled the final strap of the saddle and stroked her horse’s mane. Silverleaf looked on with an expression of astonishment and anger.
“You really meant it,” she said wonderingly, hugging her thin arms about her slender frame to warm herself up. It was a bitterly cold evening, and she had thrown a woolen shawl about her shoulders. “You really meant that you’d ride out to see him. All that way across the Pelennor.” She shook her head. “You can’t. I’ll tell mother and father.”
Goldleaf stepped away from her horse and faced her sister. “You won’t,” she said. For a moment her tone sounded hard and her features looked unfeeling, but then something in her determination broke and her lovely face dropped it’s stubborn look. “You can’t,” she said, pleadingly. “You can’t, Silverleaf. You have no idea what it means for me to be able to see him.”
Silverleaf took the measure of her. Goldleaf’s eyes had filled with earnestness, she was visibly trembling. For a long moment Silverleaf remained silent, wondering if she should refuse her, and go and wake their parents to stop her from going. But she did not. Slowly, she drew Goldleaf into a hug.
Goldleaf sighed with relief, gripping her sister round the shoulders. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you,” she repeated, quietly. She closed her eyes.
“You can’t be away too long. You must tell him that.”
“I will.”
Silverleaf pulled back to look at her. “I do not know where this is leading you,” she said softly. “I am afraid he will break your heart. I have told you before, Goldleaf; this relationship you have, it cannot go anywhere.”
“It can,” Goldleaf insisted. “I love him, and he loves me.”
“It’s not as simple as that,” Silverleaf said.
“Why not?”
Silverleaf looked at her, long and hard, yet there was a pitying, sympathetic light in her eyes too. “Because you are a commoner,” she said. “And he is the son of the greatest man in Gondor. Believe it, Goldleaf, he would not marry you. His father would never permit him to be with you. In the end he will have to let you go.”
Goldleaf shook her head instantly, and stepped back from her sister abruptly, harshly. “Don’t say that,” she said fiercely. “Don’t speak in such a way. He would never leave me.”
Silverleaf just looked at her.
Goldleaf looked at her sidelong, frowning. Her heart was thudding with fear at Silverleaf’s words. Slowly, she walked back towards her horse and jumped up into the saddle, swinging her cape. She looked down at Silverleaf.
“Do not tell mother and father,” she specified.
“I will not,” Silverleaf said.
With that, Goldleaf spurred her horse on and it trotted off into the silent night, down the street, into the darkness. Silverleaf watched her riding away until she could no longer see her; then she turned and went back into the house.
Only when Goldleaf left the boundary of Osgiliath did she spur her horse on into a gallop, and it galloped fiercely across the Pelennor fields at it’s rider’s bidding, riding as fast as it could so that Goldleaf could reach her love, Boromir.

~~~
Boromir waited by the stables near the gates of Minas Tirith, frowning. He hoped that Goldleaf was alright; she had promised him that she would ride out to see him tonight, and he was not sure if he was pleased or not. He did not like the thought of her riding in the dark, alone. He hoped that she arrived safely. He felt a kind of guilt; he was not sure why. He should have been happy that she was going to such lengths to see him. He was happy that she loved him, the happiest he had ever been in his life; to know that she returned his feelings meant everything to him. Yet there was a panging doubt in his mind as to whether or not he was worth her going to such troubles. A question as to whether he was good enough for her or not.
Suddenly, he heard the gates of Minas Tirith swing open, that familiar call of the men whilst they unbarred the great barriers of the gates. A soft voice answering their questions concerning identity that he recognized in a heartbeat.
“Very well. You may enter.”
“Thank you.”
He heard her leading her horse down the cobbled streets towards the stable yard. Immediately, he stepped forward from the wall he had been leaning against. She gave a little start as she saw him.
A dark cape was draped about her, the hood brought over her head, the glimmer of her golden hair shining there. He saw the flicker of her smile.
“Boromir!”
She led her horse into the stable first, closing the door carefully behind it. It went in without objection. Goldleaf then went forward into Boromir’s embrace. He kissed the top of her head.
“I missed you,” she said.
“I missed you too.” He did miss her when he was not around her, all the time. The lack of her was like being without water, without sunlight, air. She had breathed new life into him, and he did not know how he could manage to be without her now.
“How have you been?” he asked.
“Oh… not very well at all,” she murmured. “My sister has been impossible. She only just let me get away to see you. I don’t know what I’d do if she’d told my parents; they would have forbidden me, for sure. I wouldn’t have been able to bear that.”
“Family’s important,” he said gently, pulling back to look at her. She looked unbearably sad.
“There is nothing more important,” she agreed, taking his hand in hers. “I have never displeased them before, never rode away in the night before. I would so hope that they would not object to us being together.” She sounded pained.
Boromir’s heart jolted. He knew for certain that his father would most certainly object to them being together.
She put her arms around his shoulders to hug him again. He rested his head against hers, closing his eyes against the pain that was shooting through him. Why should he not be allowed to be with the one he loved?
“Family has always been important to me… I know it sounds foolish, but I have always dreamed of having a house of my own, having my family around me, the man I love at my side…” her voice was very quiet, he listened to her words intently. “I have never wanted anything more.”
To hear this from her, the girl who wielded a sword, the girl who was loyal to Gondor above everything, meant a lot. In the end, she wanted what anyone wanted; a safe secure home, a simple life with a man who loved her… who was at liberty to love her.
Boromir held her closer and tried to push back the feeling that he would never, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he wanted to, however much he dearly loved her, be able to provide her with the life she deserved.

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~~Siggy by Lembas~~

Eeep! Last...sentence...awesomeness. I was listening to Vanilla Twilight by Owl City, and I was suddenly struck by how perfectly this suits Goldomir. The mood is so wistful and sweet, and...just listen to it and tell me what you think.

Now I'm wondering what will happen once Denethor finds out. The plot thickens! Dun dun dunnnn..... Will there be a confrontation of the families? I guess I'll have to find out.

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

Thankeee Silvery! I <3 Vanilla Twilight! It does suit them so perfectly

Now here is part 8... Denathor doesn't exactly find out about Goldleaf, but, well, you'll see what happens

~~~

Early morning.
Pale light flickered through the curtains of Goldleaf’s bedroom. The soft material of the curtains fluttered like wings, letting the breeze in. Goldleaf lay on her bed, the blankets wrapped around her, her golden hair spread out in a tangle on the pillow. She wasn’t in a hurry to get up; she had been dreaming, and wanted to cling on to the last threads of her dream. This was her own room in Osgiliath; she was relieved not to be sharing a room with Silverleaf now, as she had done in their aunt’s house in Minas Tirith – her sister always rose ridiculously early and woke her up in the process.
A noisy gust of wind blew in through the window. Frowning, she turned over and blearily opened her eyes. Slowly, she forced herself up and swung her legs round from the bed; she walked towards the window and closed it, expelling the draft.
She lifted her hand to her forehead, eyes closed. She was so tired. She had got back home early last night, as she had promised Silverleaf. But she had talked for quite a while with Boromir at their usual place; there had been a sense of not wanting to waste any of their time together, which had been so unkindly limited. When they had said goodbye, it had been all Goldleaf could do not to fling her arms around him and refuse to let him go.
She shook her head, walking towards her dressing table. She sat down on the stool and looked at her reflection. Picking up her hairbrush, she ran it through the golden locks. Over a week ago, she had not known him. She could not possibly imagine it now; life without him seemed dark and cold.
She pondered over what Silverleaf had said to her before she had left.
Believe it, Goldleaf, he would not marry you. His father would never permit him to be with you. In the end he will have to let you go.
She took a deep, ragged breath and tried to shake the words out of her head. Could Silverleaf be right? In the mirror, pain was evident in Goldleaf’s blue eyes. How could she possibly be right? How could their love not be allowed?
Trying to keep herself calm, Goldleaf continued to brush her hair. She had talked to him last night about her wishes for the future. It was indeed all she wanted to have her own house, a family and a husband whom she loved, who loved her. She knew that some might call that pathetic, the silly daydreams of a girl; but it was what she wanted. A simple, peaceful life. When there was no danger from Mordor, when Gondor’s troubles ended, surely Boromir would be permitted to lead the kind of life he wished?
He will be the Steward of Gondor one day, her head severely reminded her. Do you think he is destined for a simple life?
“He loves me,” Goldleaf said quietly out loud. “And I love him. I love him more than it is possible to love another human being.” She gave her hair one final brush, and then laid the brush down on the dressing table before her.
“And I always will,” she whispered.

~~~
Boromir stood outside the doors of the great hall, in the courtyard, waiting to be accepted into his father’s presence. The Steward was obviously finishing some business which needed to be taken care of before he could speak to his son. It was morning, and slightly chilly; but Boromir hardly noticed the breeze that hit his face as he turned to pace around again.
Before he came to a decision, he had to see his father; he had to speak with him. Then he would know what he had to do. Slowly, he reached into his tunic pocket and withdrew a small silver ring. It was slim, but Boromir knew it would fit on Goldleaf’s slender ring finger perfectly; ornately carved with the symbol of the tree of Gondor. He looked at it for a few moments as he rested it gently on his palm. He so dearly wished that he could give it to her. So dearly wished that he could give her the happiness he deserved.
Suddenly, the great doors were flung open. Boromir slid the ring back into his pocket and turned. One of the Steward’s guards stepped forward. “Lord Denathor will see you now, my lord.”
Boromir nodded to him and went through the doors. They slammed shut behind him and his footsteps echoed on the marble floor of the hall; he went past the statues of the kings that led up to his father’s seat under the throne of the king. There, as usual, sat Denathor, a grim expression on his face.
“You requested an audience with me, Boromir?” he found a small, weary smile for his son. He was obviously tired. “You know you did not have to do so, you could have just came in whilst I dealt with business.”
Boromir cleared his throat. “This is somewhat important, father.”
Denathor nodded. “Very well. Come and sit beside me.” As always, there was a smaller chair set out by his father’s side for him. Boromir seated himself, and Denathor looked down at him. “What is it you wish to speak to me of?”
“Well, father…” Boromir paused, trying to find the words, “I wanted to speak to you about a time in the future. To plan ahead, as it were. I wanted to ask you a few questions about a time… if I were ever to take a wife.”
A smile broke out on Denathor’s face. “My son, this is good news indeed,” he said. “It is always good to plan ahead. I should be so pleased if ever you were to marry, to provide heirs for our great line.”
This heartened Boromir, and he took a deep breath. He looked up at his father. “Indeed, father. If such an event were ever to occur, where would my wife be housed?” he tried not to frown, waiting for his father’s reply. Everything depended on what he said next.
“In the court, of course,” Denathor replied. “She would serve us here, as a good wife must do. I would expect her to be obedient to you utterly, and me also.”
Boromir could not bear the thought of Goldleaf having to attend on his father, like a servant must do. She was so much more free-spirited than that to have to act as a serving-maid in Denathor’s court.
“I see.” Boromir nodded. “Surely she would not be free to go about Gondor as she wished? Perhaps take a house in Ithilien when all is well there?” he tried to sound as if it did not interest him very much, as if this was only a situation in the future, not the here and now.
“Certainly not!” Denathor frowned. “My daughter-in-law would have to stay where I bid her. The lady of the court must be seen to stay by her husband and her father-in-law, in the court.”
Boromir’s heart sunk. He nodded. This was all he needed to know. “Besides,” Denathor added, “as you know Ithilien is not fit for inhabitance, and probably will not be so for quite some years. You will be fighting for your country for many years to come, I don’t doubt. Any wife you take up should be glad to see you once a month.” He gave a short laugh.
Boromir nodded. “Very well, father.” He rose from his seat. Denathor looked at him.
“Is that all you needed to know?” he asked.
“Yes, father. Thank you.”
“I shall be glad when you marry,” Denathor said, “but I do not think you are a man who shall have much time for his wife. Not whilst his Lord needs him.”
The imperious arrogance of this statement kindled a sudden fury in Boromir, but he pushed it back out of the usual obedience to his father. He bowed and took his leave from the hall. As the doors closed behind him, he brought one hand up to his brow as he shook his head.
He could not submit Goldleaf to such a life. He would not. He knew without a doubt how unhappy she would be living under his father’s rule. She was worth so much more than to be just a lady of the court, submissive to her father-in-law and his whims. She needed to fly free to be happy.
Boromir withdrew the ring from his pocket again. He could not give this to her. To marry her he would have to kill everything inside her that made her so lovely, so beloved, so magical to him. He had to let her go. The knowledge of that left him cold inside, and suddenly he felt the chill like ice.

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~~Siggy by Lembas~~