@tolkienocweek: Relationships (August 29th)
I chose friendship for the prompt and decided to write something about one of my favourite dynamics Cassie/Lîneth has, namely her friendship with Boromir:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Rivendell was full of beauty, song, and laughter. And yet Boromir was restless. He would trade the comfort and the peace of it for any one of the harrowing hundred days on the road: he would endure anything, if only his heart was steady and his purpose clear.
He’d come to this place with a riddle, to which he now had an answer. A halfling, the blade of Elendil, and… a flash of gold. That was all he’d seen of the thing that was the harbinger of doom for the free people or Middle Earth. For his city. Even if against all hope the Quest should end with Isildur’s bane destroyed and Sauron’s spirit defeated, who should hold back his forces while the ringbearer made the long journey to Mordor?
Minas Tirith. As it always had. Yes, Rivendell was full of laughter, but laughter was easy when the horrors of Minas Morgul were not at your doorstep. The elves, perhaps, could afford to speak of wisdom and of caution when their strongholds were safe and strong, and when they could leave Middle Earth behind if all was lost.
With those bitter thoughts he wandered, aimless, and turned a corner on the garden path to find himself face to face with the woman he’d seen at the Council, the one Elrond had failed to introduce. She had listened without speaking, and her eyes had scanned each face with keen perception. She was dressed in the elvish fashion, yet clearly was a daughter of Men; though to guess from where she hailed, he would have to be far more travelled.
“Oh, hello,” she said, and her eyes crinkled with–concern, he thought, or maybe something like melancholy. “I’m Lîneth. You’re Boromir, right? Let’s be friends.”
Boromir bowed slightly in greeting, taken aback. “Well, I will not refuse friendship when among so many strangers. Have I interrupted your stroll?”
“Not at all,” Lîneth said. With exceeding forwardness she linked her arm with his. “I’ll just walk with you now.”
“Is that so?” Boromir said, amused. “I like to know a little more about my friends before I invite them on solitary walks.”
“Oh, I’m an open book,” she dismissed. “You can ask me anything. It’s just more likely than not that you’re not going to believe me.”
“Try me,” he challenged. “Many other messengers came forward at the council to state their purpose here, but you neither identified yourself nor who has sent you. Or do you live here in the house of Elrond?”
Perhaps she was one of the Rangers. She seemed close to the man who called himself Isildur’s heir; but whether he was all that he claimed to be still had to be tested.
“Well,” she started. “I come from a galaxy far, far away…”
“A what?”
“A land,” she said with a sigh. “You have not heard of it, so don’t bother asking. Through a series of shenanigans, I ended up here, and now I can predict the future.”
“You certainly predicted the difficulty of believing that claim,” said Boromir, once more stunned. “Can you prove it?”
“All in good time,” she said. “I like to know my friends a little better before I start giving out prophecies.”
Despite himself, Boromir laughed.
