This chapter is divided into two parts. The first brings us to Lorien the day before the Fellowship departs. The second part returns to Rohan and resolves the question of who will lead the first battle at the Fords of the Isen. And yes, I know that Galadriel presented Aragorn with the Elfstone but in my story, Arwen rides from Imladris to present this gift to her betrothed.

Part the First: Mending Fences

Boromir stood nervously, unconsciously shifting from one booted foot to the other, as he waited to enter Lord Celeborn's study. The Fellowship was leaving in the morning and he felt a pressing need to set things right with his in-laws. Although he was hoping the Lady Galadriel was not within, he knew he would have to face her before his departure. The heavy tapestry that served as a door was swept aside abruptly and the Lord of Imladris stood before him. He smiled and indicated with a nod that Boromir should enter the study. "Go on. I think you will find this meeting has been too long in coming." Boromir started to question Elrond, but the Elf already had disappeared down the hallway. The man stared at the entrance awhile longer, took a deep breath, moved the tapestry aside and entered the study.

Celeborn was standing with his hands clasped behind his back. The heavy drapes that served as the western wall of his study had been tied back and he was watching the sunset. Boromir cleared his throat softly.

"Join me," Celeborn said, his voice low. "I would appreciate your company." Boromir was surprised -- and grateful -- for the invitation. Perhaps this meeting would be more pleasant than he'd hoped. He crossed the small space and positioned himself directly beside the tall Elven Lord. The two stood together for many minutes before Celeborn finally broke the silence. "You and I have fought verbally many times since your arrival in the Golden Wood, yet I cannot place all the blame upon your shoulders. I, too, must bear a measure of responsibility for our estrangement, as must my lady. However, it is now time for us to lay our differences to rest before your departure in the morning."

There was a deep sadness in Celeborn's eyes, as though he carried the weight of Middle-earth upon his shoulders. "Tomorrow you will take the only living reminder of our daughter, Elanor, to your city. Eledwhen has chosen to remain among mortals and we must all accept her choice. However, I ask -- nay, I beg -- you to allow my granddaughter to continue to learn about her Elven heritage. I also would be grateful if you would allow her to return to Lorien to visit her kin; when it is safer, of course."

It was difficult for Boromir to hide his surprise at the sudden change in Celeborn. This most definitely was not the infuriatingly pompous Elven Lord he'd come to know and dislike. Eledwhen's grandfather seemed almost painfully human. "Why now?" he asked flatly, remembering the last meeting with the Lady and Lord of the Golden Wood when they had attempted to sway him to give up his claim to Eledwhen. That meeting, which had been the day of Eledwhen's vision of his death, had ended with bitter words. He'd sworn that he would take the Princess to Minas Tirith and never allow her to see her grandparents again. 

The Lord Celeborn cocked his head slightly toward the man and replied, "Come again?"

Boromir shifted his position so that he was standing squarely in front of the Elf. "I said, why now? You and your wife have shown very little tolerance toward me and have done everything within your power to break us apart. So I say again, why now do you extend the hand of friendship?"

Celeborn smiled sadly and motioned toward his desk and the chairs about it. "Please sit and allow me to serve you our best cordial. You may not feel the need for a drink, but I most certainly do." Boromir frowned as he followed the Elf. He sensed there was something the Lord of Lorien wanted to say, but that he needed the fortification of a drink before he could speak the words aloud. Galadriel and Celeborn had fought to keep Eledwhen from him; he did not intend to make the parting any easier than the welcoming -- or lack thereof.

"You and I have been at odds since the day Haldir brought you here. My joy at having my granddaughter home was lessened only by the fear I felt because of your presence."

Boromir looked startled. "You are afraid of me? I do not understand."

Celeborn sighed and drank deeply from his cup. He held the fiery liquid in his mouth for several moments before allowing it to slide slowly down his throat. Finally he looked upon the man of Gondor. "I believed that day was the beginning, and the end, of our relationship with Eledwhen. You do not know how we longed to see her or how frustrating it was to be forbidden to even send her letters. Théoden King preferred to keep her Elven blood a secret, just as he hid the true identity of his wife. We were not told of her death and so were not present when they laid her to rest. Such treatment left me bitter toward mankind and so I was willing to do anything to keep my daughter's daughter here, where I believe she belongs. Unfortunately, all my scheming and outbursts have only succeeded in dividing her loyalties and this plainly is not right. I have told Eledwhen she may choose the path her life will follow, and that Galadriel and I will love her and support her no matter what her choice."

Boromir blinked rapidly. "That is very sporting of you, my lord. I know how hard it must be for you to let her go. I most certainly would find it impossible to do so."

A smile brightened Celeborn's face. "I do not believe that I shall lose her, or that you will take her from me. I see now how wrong I have been to view you as the enemy. Lord Elrond and I have had conversations concerning you and he has convinced me of your worth as an ally and a kinsman. It seems he is rather fond of you. If you can win a place in his heart, then I can trust you to do what is right. I know that I am late in saying this, but welcome to our family, son of Gondor."

Boromir stood and extended his hand to the Lord of Dwimordene. Because Eledwhen had begged him to make peace with her grandparents, and because the Elven lord had swallowed his pride to ask a boon from him, Boromir replied, "I am honored to call you kin. I, too, have been wrong. You and your lady opened your home to me and gave me healing when I needed it. My behavior has been abominable and I must apologize for it. I hope you can forgive me and that we may part as friends." The Lord Celeborn grasped the man's hand firmly.

"I swear that I shall do everything in my power to help you and my granddaughter. You make her very happy and for that, I thank you. Now, let us go and find the ladies. I believe my wife also has fences to mend."

* * * * * * * * * 

As hard as it had been for the Steward's heir to admit to the Lord of Dwimordene that he had much to apologize for, it was even worse admitting to Galadriel that he believed he'd acted like a complete ass. When his apology was finished and he felt as though he had eaten about 20 pounds of humble pie, the Lady of Lorien placed her arms about his shoulders and lightly kissed him upon the lips.

"And I must apologize for my rather irrational behavior toward you," she said in that sultry voice of hers. "You must believe it was only because I feared losing Eledwhen. I hope that someday we may become friends. Welcome to the family, my lord." Eledwhen was standing only a few feet away from the man and Elf. The Princess was ecstatic for she believed that she and her husband could take their leave knowing that both would be welcomed back. Now Boromir had only one more person to whom he owed an apology.

The man of Gondor found Aragorn saying his goodbyes to the Lady Arwen. Despite her hotheaded declaration that she would accompany the Fellowship if Eledwhen did, her father and her future husband had succeeded in changing her mind. The lady would be returning home with her father, not following her betrothed.

Boromir softly cleared his throat, reticent to interrupt their goodbyes. Time was pressing, however, and soon they would have to resume their journey. He wanted no bad blood between himself and his future king for he, too, had had a change of mind. When he returned to Gondor he would throw his complete support behind Isildur's heir. It seemed that his love for the Princess of Rohan had doused his burning desire to be a king.

Aragorn and Arwen broke their kiss slowly as both became aware of the man's presence. Arwen turned toward him and smiled beguilingly. Aragorn, however, frowned and his hand slid unconsciously to his sword hilt. "It is alright, my love. The Lord Boromir comes in peace," Arwen purred. Boromir bowed deeply to the Elven lady; when he lifted his head, she was gone.

"What do you want?" Aragorn asked harshly. "We have had no words since that day we fought and you injured the Princess Eledwhen. What have you to say for yourself?"

Boromir straightened and met the hardness in Aragorn's eyes. He thought about leaving without saying anything, but remembered Pippin's anguished plea that he not fight with his friend, Strider. Eledwhen also had begged him to reconsider his feelings about Aragorn and to stop thinking of him as a rival. She'd actually made him see what his life could be like without the burdensome duties a king faced daily. Boromir thought about his father and the bitter old man he'd become and swallowed his anger. "I say that I was wrong to be jealous and resentful of you. I admit that all my life I have dreamed of being King of Gondor and so was angry when a legitimate heir suddenly dropped out of thin air, as it were. I saw my dreams burn to ashes and you rise from those same ashes, the white tree upon your breast and the Elfstone upon your brow. That is the gift the Lady Arwen brought with her, is it not?"

Aragorn nodded affirmatively, but remained silent. Boromir hesitated, uncertain whether or not he should continue. Finally Aragorn whispered, "Go on."

Taking a deep breath, Boromir let his words cleanse his soul and his spirit. It felt good to let go of his ambitions and the heavy burden they imposed upon him. As much as he had hungered for the throne, he now wanted the peace of being a husband and a father. Plus he had never enjoyed the endless meetings and tedious paperwork involved in being a Steward in training. Boromir felt reborn as the words tumbled from his lips like flowers scattered during the welcoming home of triumphant soldiers.

"I want you to know that I… that I… that I no longer desire to be King of Gondor. I wish only to serve you, my liege lord, and to earn the right to be your Steward -- after my father, of course." There, he thought, that was not so hard.

Aragorn gaped at the Steward's heir as though he were Sauron himself. He had been prepared to hear many things, but this was surely not one of them. "Are you… are you certain of your choice? Are you sober?"

Boromir threw back his head and roared with laughter until tears sprang to his eyes and flowed like raindrops down his cheeks. "Oh, aye, my liege. Never in my life have I been more sober or more certain of anything. I've learned that there are more important things in life than power: the love of a good woman and the ability to face oneself in the light of day are at the top of this list. I have been childish and selfish, and I beg your forgiveness." The man of Gondor stood silently with his head bowed, waiting for Aragorn to either accept his olive branch or reject it and him. It was the longest wait of his life. 

"There is nothing to forgive," Aragorn said kindly. "You never should have discovered my heritage the way in which you did, blurted out by Legolas in front of everyone at Elrond's council. I take the responsibility for that mistake and beg your pardon for not telling you myself. I did not because I wanted us to become friends. I wanted it not to matter that I was Isildur's heir and, therefore, destined to become your king. I feared you would hate me for my heritage and that our blossoming friendship would wither before it had time to fully bloom. I ask you to shake my hand and say you forgive me."

Boromir's smile reached his eyes as he extended his right hand to his future king. He'd always thought his father, the Steward, exuded a certain aura of power, but Denethor's magnetism paled when compared to Aragorn's. The two men clasped hands tightly and hugged one another warmly. "Let us be as one in purpose and in deed," said Aragorn. "Together we shall be unbeatable."

* * * * * * * * *

Eledwhen and Boromir were spending their last night in Caras Galadon in the huge bed in which they'd spent the night of their bonding. They lay unclothed and entwined, though neither felt an urgency to make love. Boromir was stroking his wife's hair, drawing comfort from the mindless motion. Eledwhen's eyes were closed as she reveled in the man's touch.

"I wish we could remain this way forever," she purred throatily. "It is as though we are the only two in the whole of Middle-earth."

Boromir stopped caressing Eledwhen's hair and shifted his body until he could see her face. "I believe you would soon tire of only my company."

Eledwhen snuggled against his body and laughed. "Nay, my love. I shall never tire of your presence. Here we are safe, and here I wish we could stay. I know it is selfish of me to want this, and that you have duties that call you home, but I am immeasurably happy and do not want the world to intrude upon that happiness."

Boromir frowned. "You are thinking about the vision. I beg you not to. We both shall reach Minas Tirith alive and well. When they write songs and stories about us -- and they will -- all shall end with the words 'and they lived happily ever after.' I believe this with all my heart."

Eledwhen looked lovingly into her husband's face, placed her lips upon his and tightened her embrace until his breathing became ragged. Smiling, she pushed him onto his back and began the first of several lovemaking sessions that filled that last night in the Golden Wood.

Part the Second: Tempting Fate

Éowyn was furious, both angry and mortified by her brother's decree that she would be shipped off to Minas Tirith to protect her from Gríma Wormtongue. "I am not a child that needs protection," she thought as clothing went flying about the room instead of into the trunk she was supposed to be packing. "I can fight and ride as well as most men of the Mark. If I leave now, Wormtongue will think I am running from him. Nay, this will never do! A shield maiden faces her enemies and deals with them openly and cleanly. I will not be thought a coward. I will just have to think of a way to avoid being shipped off to Gondor. But how to change Théodred's mind?"

A knock on her bedchamber door caused Éowyn to stop her frenzied packing. "Go away if you value your life! I want no visitors." The door began to open despite her words, so she picked up a cup and threw it. Made from clay, it shattered spectacularly as it crashed loudly against the wall beside the door.

"Are you out of your mind?" Éomer stood in the partially open doorway, his eyes wide in amazement at the disarray. "It's not the end of the world, 'Wyn."

Éowyn's eyes blazed in anger. "So say you, for you are not the one being forced to leave your homeland for your 'protection.' I do not understand how my brother can allow me to be sent to the very city where his cousin was ravished. How safe will I be with the Steward? I would prefer to take my chances with Gríma, for I know I can hold my own against him."

Éomer shook his head, his expression grim. "You did not do so well against him this past evening. It was only by blind chance that you were able to free yourself from his embrace. With Faramir and the Prince of Dol Amroth in control of Minas Tirith, I doubt the Lord Denethor would do anything so foolish as to attack you.  Please, 'Wyn, for my peace of mind. Go to Gondor."

Éowyn stood stiffly. She was torn between love for her brother and her tarnished pride. As she opened her mouth to speak, Théodred entered the room. He seemed both agitated and elated at the same time. "I have good news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?" Éowyn shook her head.

"I should like to hear that I do not have to go to the White City."

Her cousin threw back his head and roared with laughter. "That is the good news. You no longer have to leave Edoras. Wormtongue has left! I've just heard news that he packed his bags and rode out shortly after you came to my chambers. Hama had one of his men follow Gríma to see which way he went. It seems he is off to Isengard and his beloved wizard. We are free of his foul presence!"

Éowyn gave an excited shout and threw herself into Théodred's arms. "I can scarce believe it! Are we truly free of the Worm's company? This is the best news I've heard in a long time. We must inform Théoden King." Éowyn began to move toward the door, but her cousin blocked her.

"You have not yet heard the bad news. I must lead a large host of warriors to the Fords of the Isen, where Saruman's minions are massing. If they are not stopped from entering Rohan, they will slaughter our people."

Éomer and Éowyn spoke at the same time. "No! You must not lead this battle!"

The Prince looked slightly pale, yet his voice was strong when he spoke. "I will not shirk my duty because of a tale told by an Elf! I must leave tomorrow."

Éowyn felt as though events were spiraling beyond her control. Somehow she must keep the Prince at home. "No, you dare not tempt fate. Éomer, talk to him!"

Her brother sighed. "We have had this conversation before. I can see by the set of his jaw that Théodred will not miss this battle, though it might well be his last."

The Prince tried a smile, but it came out a sickly grimace. "Come now. I will be fine and when I return, we shall all have a laugh over our foolishness. Éomer, please attend me. While I am gone, you must watch over Father and see that nothing untoward happens in Edoras."

Éomer looked quite taken aback. "But surely I shall be at your side in battle? You cannot order me to remain at home, not when I may be able to save your life!"

"I have made up my mind. You and Éowyn will keep the city safe until I return. Watch over Father and make certain he comes to no harm. Though Wormtongue is gone, his men remain. I do not know what orders he may have given. Éomer, do this for me. It is important."

The younger man looked beseechingly at his Prince and cousin, but Théodred remained resolute. Éomer finally agreed to Théodred's wishes. "If you must do this, at least take Grimbold and Elfhelm. They are good men and will watch your back."

The Prince grinned rakishly. "I would never leave home without them."

To be continued