Starlight (The Bold Privateer Remix)
Boromir feels a stranger here.
His clumsy grunts make a mockery of the elegant liquid language that they speak here. He prefers Minas Tirith. Those he might have known there are dust now. Those who dared to stare more quickly than the others.
He heeded the half hidden glances more than Aragorn who was not born there. He did not know these people, their ways, and claimed their kingship regardless. With her on their arm, anything was possible.
He heeded their glances until she plucked the eyes from his head in jest. His Queen has a most Elvish sense of humour. She healed him after, of course, but they were never the same. Seeing only darkness where there should be light.
He wakes first now, as the sun clears the trees and the birds greet it. The streams that Aragorn sings of in the darkness bestir a more urgent need, coomonplace in this extraordinary place. The sun warms his blood and his blood rouses more of his all too human need.
He needs them. His King is as a half-elf. His Queen is elven. He is a stranger in all his homes and the only light he sees most clearly is that of a golden band around his lady's finger. For the shadows are as light to him now.
She laughs sometimes, her laugh a glittering crescendo and promises to wed them both one day. She says she will make them rings. They laugh with her, and kiss her and tell her they love her so much that they don't need any ring to bind them. His heart and soul binds him more closely than any ring he says.
And yet, there is a fragment of his heart that yearns for her death. A portion of his heart that calls for revenge. A scrap that whispers if you had it, you could be whole again. You could restore what was taken. It would be most precious to you, wouldn't it?
Arwen wakes to his need, and takes him in her arms and loves him, and Arwen's voice and hands are the sea, and she is light and glitters in the sunlight.