Negotiations

23 June III 3016, Minas Tirith, Gondor


Politics were not his region of interest. Hardly. But that was what he was doing, more or less. The Steward Denethor had taken ill, and so the young Captain-Guard took his place. If anything he was dutiful, even if slightly rueful. Boromir sat quietly, looking dully ahead as the small town leaders filled in front of him, asking and requesting this and that of Gondor. He was listening, just not particularly interested the majority of the time. He lost count of how many parchments had been signed that hour, let alone during the whole day. Toward dusk, the flow seemed to drain away. He wasn't too terribly disappointed. And so there he sat, in a thick wooden chair, slightly slumped since he had no one to be proper for. He halfway dozed where he sat, so unused to sitting still for this long during a perfectly fine day.

Legolas had ridden into the city earlier that very day, hoping to rekindle some of the old alliances between Gondor and Mirkwood. He had spent all day waiting, after he was settled. The staff of the Citadel had been most kind. He sighed and paced out side the audience chamber, waiting for his turn. He knew he would not be dealing with the Steward himself, but his son, the Legendary Boromir. He smiled to himself. He had heard much of this Boromir, son of Denethor, and was looking forward to meeting with him, perhaps even befriending him. A servant came out, telling him it was time. Legolas nodded and walked into the hall, straightening his tunic as he went.

One guard nudged Boromir in the shoulder, politely trying to rouse him. It worked, and he straightened up. It was whispered into his ear that the Prince of Mirkwood was present. He gave a slight nod, thinking on it. If he had been here long, he should have been shown inside first, but it seemed all was too late to turn around. Perhaps it was a good thing that Denethor was not handling negotiations this day. The bitterness he held toward outsiders surprised even Boromir at times. He lifted his eyes toward the immortal who walked within the hall and rose from his seat respectfully. He held a pleasant look on his face, letting the weariness from the day slip away.

Legolas gave a small bow, looking at the Steward's son. He was somewhat glad Denethor wasn't handling this. Very spiteful of outsiders, or so he had heard. He sighed and glanced around, then back to Boromir, "I am Legolas, Crowned Prince of Mirkwood. I am here at my father's, King Thranduil, behest. He wishes to reopen the trades between our two realms as well as rekindle the old Alliances. I know that your father may be reluctant to do so, but a mighty gift is on it‘s way...." He smiled kindly at the Steward's son, "But let's not talk of that just yet....I am prepared to offer Gondor the services of Mirkwoods Armies....for we have one of the finest amongst elves....in exchange for goods and the privilege to walk freely in these lands...." He inwardly kicked himself. He'd been practicing that speech since last week. It sounded good in his head, but not when he spoke it. Damn.

Boromir returned a small bow of his head, yet remained standing before him, arms limp at his sides as he listened. It was rather rare to have anyone farther than Tillie to come out of the North into Gondor, and so his interested spiked. And naturally, since Legolas was one of the fair folk. Very few had set foot in this hall. After listening to the offer he smiled slightly, thinking on it. It sounded well enough, but he was not Steward. Not yet anyway. "I would accept this offer, knowing the army would be an extremely valuable asset right now. However," he pulled a fresh piece of parchment out and set it on the desk, resting his hand over the white surface. "The Steward is the only man who can allow free passage to your people. We can get it down on paper, and I will propose it to him this night." He removed his hand and gestured toward the blank sheet gently. It would not be too hard to convince his father with a fever, even if slightly unfair.

Legolas nodded, "That would be most appreciated, my lord..." He smiled, but looked slightly nervous. He wrung his hands in front of him, then held them out in a slightly hopeless gesture, "Would it be too much to ask if you were to write it? I am afraid...I neglected my studies where your written language was concerned." True statement. He could speak it fluently, but writing it was another story. It would be sloppy and it would make no sense what so ever. He blushed and looked at the parchment, "Unless your father can read Tengwar...." A slight shrug. He glanced at

Boromir's face, then quickly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring. "My father left me a bit unprepared for this sort of thing....I am actually here in my brother's stead...his wife is most likely birthing their first child as we speak..."
Boromir looked at Legolas carefully a moment before looking down at the blank paper. "Oh," his brow knotted slightly, momentarily. "I can write it, yes. Just tell me the terms exactly as you wish them. Sit, please." He smiled lightly, glancing to the chair that rested just to the side of the fair prince. "I'm honestly not sure if he can read it. He is a learned man, but I could not read it to him if it were not the case." He sat back down in the heavy chair and dipped the pen into the ink, waiting patiently. Another gentle smile tugged on his lips. "I see. Normally it is not I you would be speaking to either. Politics... are not where my most valuable skills rest," he admitted with a small rise and fall of his broad shoulders.

Legolas took the offered seat and made a very un-elvish snort, "Nor mine...I would much rather be out in the forest..hunting....or at least sparring. I find stone walls very confining..." He looked down, hiding a momentary blushed, then regained his composure and looked at the parchment, "I suppose....You can document that Mirkwood would give over a legion of our finest as well as a third of what we produce yearly, meaning textiles, weapons, jewelry, farmed goods...in exchange for freedom of passage and whatever he thinks would be a fair exchange..." He looked at Boromir for approval. The Man had to know more about this than he. He never really paid any attention during his father's council meetings to see how this sort of thing happened.

Boromir chuckled softly, but began to write in his distinct, angular script. "I can hardly stand being inside for one entire day," he said idly, suggesting he could relate. He was much more suited to do physical things, whether that meant building things for the city, repairing stables, or risking his life for the liberties of his people. He worded the offer carefully, into ways he know would tickle at his father's mind for approval. Once he finished writing, he caught the other's glance and nodded a bit, sitting back. He knew enough to get by with this sort of thing, though he could have done better if he enjoyed it. "I will have this proposed to him as soon as he wakes. I assume you will want to wait for an answer, rather than have it carried to your father?"

Legolas nodded, "If that would be no trouble...I've already been appointed rooms, though I haven't seen them yet." He shrugged again. He glanced at the paper, "I really should learn your written language...It would be most beneficial..." He sighed and rubbed his palms on his leggings, "Well, I will take my leave and get some much needed rest, you should as well. You look more haggard than I.." He smiled, "Have your father's reply sent to me as soon as he makes a decision...?" He knew he was tripping over the common tongue now. It was obvious. His request sounded more like a demand and this was not his place to make demands. He was a guest...He hoped Boromir wouldn't take offense.

"It will be no trouble, but you may have to wait until morning." He rolled up the paper once if was dry and held onto it idly. "Haggard..." he mused softly before standing up. "I suppose I do. But I must... do something before resting. However I will have someone see if my father is well enough, or even awake." He stood up and walked around the wooden desk. Perhaps it was that Boromir was too weary to even notice and hint of demand, and nodded absently to the request. "If you need something to eat, the dining hall is open for you. Do you know where your rooms are located?" He looked over at the Prince, rubbing the back of his neck gingerly. He would show him if he did not.

Legolas stood as well, moving towards the door, then stopped, turning to look at Boromir, "Actually, no...I do not. My things were brought in and I was sent directly here...This city is very...hard to navigate, especially since it's grown up so much since my last visit." Which was hundreds of years ago. He blushed faintly and reached up, removing the circlet from his head. He felt comfortable enough around Boromir to drop the facade and be himself, at least a little bit. "Could you direct me? The attendant said they were in the guest wing, but I have no idea where that's at exactly..."

Boromir walked a little past the elf and paused when he spoke. A less reserved smile touch his lips, giving a small nod. He knew the city like he knew his sword, which was every little detail. "Yes, it's fairly close. The guest halls are just an extension of the main citadel." He was going that way as it was. He didn't wait to see if Legolas followed, just assuming he would. He lead him out just into the courtyard before making a sharp left. He wondered idly, if the elf was uncomfortable in a stone city. Truth be told, he knew an extreme little about them, save their fighting styles. Boromir stopped after a few more turns, opening a doorway to the Prince. "Just down this way there is a door. Inside are your rooms and belongings. However, you are free to walk in the city as you like. If you need something, I will be behind the barracks for a while. Just ask a guard where it is."

Legolas had followed, a few steps behind. His footfalls were silent, like falling snow. He made a mental note to go exploring later, comparing old notes to current surroundings. When they reached the door way, he nodded and looked where Boromir indicated, then turned to the Captain. He smiled his thanks and put a hand on Boromir's shoulder, forgetting that men were different from Elves. Not as touchy-feely. He retracted his hand, "My thanks, Boromir of Gondor....and my apologies...Sometimes I forget...the customs of men are different from my own..." He offered a slight bow of his head, "Namaarie..."

Boromir didn't seem to flinch when the hand was touched to his shoulder. True, men were fairly more reserved in contact when dealing with unfamiliar characters. Yet handshakes and the like were customary in informal circumstances. He smiled politely and gave a small bow of his head as well, taking a few steps back. "You are welcome. Rest well." He lowered his eyes a moment before turning away. A heavy sigh left him, the mask of political duty melting like ice in boiling water. He was curious about the elf, but felt a little awkward about asking anything save those questions dealing with politics, trade and the like. Boromir headed to a deserted, ancient courtyard where another man was waiting. He asked him to spar, knowing he'd need some distraction. And there he'd remain well into the eve.

Legolas retired to his rooms. He spent a good hour going through the whole place, looking at everything. It was so much colder in mood than his home, in his father's halls. He sat down in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames, wondering how Boromir coped in a world bereft of beauty and warmth. He frowned and stood again, going into the sleeping chamber. He'd take a few moments to lay out his clothes for the next day, formal robes of the finest shade of silvery green, offset by a very pale purple. He sat down on the bed, then laid back. Quite against his will, sleep claimed him and he lost himself to dreams of the Steward's son.

The Steward was not awake, or so he had been told, and thus he went on with the much needed swordplay. He went through four different sparring partners before he felt his arm would burst, and he was physically tired instead of just mentally. Eventually he ate, bathed, and retired for the night, thinking off and on to the fair being who stayed within the city. The proposition would have to wait until the morning. As brave as Boromir was, he wasn't going to wake his father. That was a confrontation he could live without. Instead he sunk into sleep, sprawled over the blankets of his bed. Someone would let the Prince of Mirkwood know breakfast was waiting in the morning, if he did not wake on his own.

Legolas did indeed sleep through morning, but when the knock on the door came, to summon him to breakfast, he declined, saying he would much rather take a tour of the City's Libraries, even though he couldn't readily read the texts. He bathed and dressed, holding out on the robes until his council with Denethor. He instead dressed in his traveling garb, so as not to attract attention to himself. Though that was rather pointless. Few elves walked the streets of Minas Tirith...very few. Mostly Noldorin, if there were any....He wandered the Citadel, taking a moment to walk through the courtyard where the White Tree was. He paused a moment to look at it. He felt sad, very sad, but moved about his way, heading for the archives.

Boromir woke eventually, dragging himself out of the comfort of his bed to begin another day. It was whispered to him that Denethor was awake for now and well enough to see to whatever matters Boromir had saved for him. And so after dressing and eating something small, he went to his father's study and presented the scroll. The aged man looked over it, but Boromir couldn't read his expression. Faramir could have. His brother was like his father in that respect, able to read a man's heart at a glance. "Bring Mirkwood's prince here," were his only words, and so a servant was sent out to fetch him. It looked promising, since Denethor hadn't crumpled it up at a glance.

Legolas had just gotten settled in the large library and was pawing through a rather large tome. He couldn't read the words, but he looked at the drawings. A servant came and summoned him to the Steward's study. He put the book back in it's place and followed the servant, forgetting completely to change his clothes. He sighed as they walked, not bothering to ask questions. The servant bade him to wait while he announced the Prince's presence. He waited, then entered the room when told. He walked in, head held high, and bowed before Denethor, "My Lord Denethor...." He glanced at Boromir, "Captain Boromir..."

Boromir was standing off to the side of Denethor's desk, a little too quiet to be himself completely. Only when Legolas came inside did he bring his gaze up from the floor. "Prince Legolas," he said quietly. Denethor rose slightly, but did not stand long. His face was slightly colored from his illness. "I've looked over your terms," he began, the roughness of his voice enhanced, but not completely bitter. "And I will accept, but only if you add in a an in extra troops to guard the eastern border of Ithilien." He was not a man to be bartered with. Boromir was surprised, but his face seemed to be composed of stone at the moment. Denethor waited, looking at the elf with hard gray eyes.

Legolas looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded, "I think that could be arranged. More than enough will come...and you can do with them what you wish." He looked over Denethor. The old man did look dreadfully ill. Legolas could smell the sickness on him, "We also have a shipment of our wares coming....fabric, gold, silver...mithril...." Mithril might be a good basis for trade. Minas Tirith didn't produce any, but...maybe what was mined in his father's halls could be used in some fashion here, maybe to outfit the tower guard. It was Denethor's decision.

Denethor considered Legolas's words and pulled the paper close to him, readying his pen carefully. Boromir watched him, hands behind his back, clasped there. However, Denethor paused before touching the tip to the agreement. "I need to speak with my advisors first. I will summon you in time, or have it sent if you have left. Show him out, Boromir, I need to lay down." Boromir looked a little annoyed. He had counseled his father on the worth of this agreement. Usually his word came second. However he held his tongue and opened the door for Legolas.

Legolas sighed and nodded, walking out the open door. He had heard Denethor was a tough man to deal with, but things hand seemed to be going quite well. He might have to stay on a bit longer than planned. No matter though, just as long as the agreement was signed. He was forbidden to return home until the transaction was complete. He had smiled at Boromir on the way out. Maybe this trip wouldn't be so bad. He and the Captain had seemed to have much in common, but...who knew? He walked down the hall slowly, back towards his own rooms. He was going to fetch his cloak and head outside. He needed to at least see one tree, even if it was dormant....

Boromir wished his father were less stubborn. However it was a bit hypocritical, since he was hardheaded as well. He returned the smile and sighed slightly. He watched Legolas walk down the hall, ad then went about to his own morning routines. Today was the day of the week in which most rested, and thus there were no trade or treaties to deal with. Boromir couldn't be much more relieved. Perhaps he would catch the Prince later and apologize for the wait he'd have to endure. But for now he had to check things he had missed during the week.

Legolas found his way to the courtyard of the citadel. He had to look on the White Tree, the tree of the King. He smiled to himself, knowing that one day, there would be a king and the tree would grow again. Now, it lay dormant. He eyed the guards curiously. They were ornately garbed, with good reason. They stood watch over a very blessed thing. Legolas walked to the edge of the courtyard, overlooking the rest of the city below. He sighed, then looked out towards Osgiliath. Gondor...a place for men. Elves had no place in this world anymore....

Boromir had gone about checking various things, mostly dealing with the troops. The soldiers did not have training this day, but were always on guard. Such was the way of the world; a legion was always expected to be ready for departure, especially since Gondor was very close to the black lands. It seemed news of Legolas's coming had spread through the white city quicker than wildfire. Everyone was curious, but didn't dare seek him out. True, there had been elves here before, but not from Mirkwood. Boromir found him eventually in the courtyard, near the withering tree.

Legolas felt someone approach and continued looking at the tree, "The Days of the King are not so far away as one might think..." He sighed, thinking on the Ranger from the North that had become his friend and confidant. Aragorn would one day take the throne, it was prophesized and such. Pre ordained. "No matter how bleak the days a head may get, there is always hope....always..."

Boromir stood a few feet away, though his back was to the tree, his eyes raked over the land he claimed as his own, his people's. He thought about Legolas's words carefully for a silent, drawn moment. It was a fair country, and would be even greater if the shadows from the east did not hang over it. "Is there?" he whispered more to himself, though perhaps there were no whispered words around someone with such keen hearing. He folded his arms over his chest, closing his eyes.

Legolas turned and moved to stand beside Boromir, looking at the man, then at the city, the lands beyond..."Always...as long as one person breathes...there is hope..." He turned again to Boromir, "Your people will not fail....never will they fail...Times are hard, they are for everyone...Gondor has stood long before I came into this world...and it still stands today...testament to Man's perseverance..." He put his hand on Boromir's shoulder, "Do not lose faith in those you hold dear, son of Gondor....do not lose faith in your people..."

Boromir opened his eyes slowly, looking out over the landscape once more. He envisioned Osgiliath full of people once more, and not a dormant shell of a city is was now. Perhaps someday. A small smile touched his lips, sighing gently. "I have all the faith one man can have for my people," he nodded his head slightly. "Sometimes it is hard to hold onto, knowing the fallible tears in the fabric of who rules here... or rather, who does not.." Boromir was proud of his city, but not so foolish to think it was unbreakable.

"He will come...worry not...He just needs a wake up call or two." Legolas smiled charmingly and dropped his hand from the Captain's shoulder. He straightened his tunic, "I was going to ask...if you were not busy, that is....if you could show me around the city. I've heard a great many things about what Minas Tirith has to offer..." He glanced out at the city below, "And maybe you can explain the reason for the seven levels....Mithrandir tried...but...I must admit I was not the best of students. I spent much time slaying spiders and dragons rather than attending to my studies..."

Boromir turned his attention to the elven Prince and gave a more genuine smile. "Yes, if you'd like to see it, I will show you." He turned and began to walk at a casual pace, chuckling softly. "I see. Perhaps I can relate to that. I wasn't very studious as a boy either." He reflected for a moment on the few words spoken of this king, the man that never showed but apparently was alive. If news of his people dying to defend a kingless land wasn't enough of a wakeup call, Boromir doubted there would be one. He was gathering his thoughts and what he knew as to the significance of seven levels.

Legolas skipped up a few steps to be beside Boromir, smiling at the Man's admission, "Seems to be the case with most boys..." He offered a slight shrug and looked over Boromir, "Mayhap you could visit my Kingdom one day....Though there is not as much to see as there is here...naught but a vast expanse of Caverns that my father calls home..." He sighed and tucked a stray lock of blonde hair behind a delicately pointed ear, "I do not like the Caves....I much prefer the woods....patrolling the borders of my father's lands."

"Perhaps one day I will," he gave a small nod, continuing on down to the lower sixth circle. "Living here... is probably more similar to caves then anything," he mused, looking at the white stone way they walked upon a moment. "As for the seven circles, well... It is mostly a defensive mechanism. Each circle has a set of heavy gates..." he gestured upward when they passed through one. "Thus making it easier to defend from a higher standpoint, blocking each level."

Legolas nodded, listening to what the Man said, "Makes sense. It's a wonder of architecture...." He glanced around the sixth level as the entered, he looked at the gates as well, "Truly a wonder....I should have taken the time to come south...before this I mean...I only ever head west...To Rivendell." The last of his sentence ended bitterly. There was much animosity between the Noldorin and the Sindarin, but he couldn't expect Boromir to know...or even care for that matter.

Boromir nodded in agreement, looking at Legolas a moment. "On the sixth circle, there are the houses of healing," his eyes fell over to the place he spoke about, where the sick and injured were resting, where a garden could be just seen and smelled from behind the building. Boromir tilted his head at the bitterness in the elf's voice. It seemed misplaced in the musical, gentle tone, but he didn’t ask. He knew an extreme little about the immortal's dealings, and the being themselves for that matter.

Legolas glanced in the direction Boromir did, towards the houses of healing. He nodded, still listening, "Ah, yes...the much fabled Houses of Healing...." He smiled inwardly. He liked this Boromir. Always so professional..."What is there to do for...fun...around here? Surely there must be something...."

"For fun..." he echoed with gentle quirk of his brow. "Well, I suppose that depends on what you like doing. On the lower levels there are stores that sell anything one could think to own, and vast libraries," he tilted his head gently, trying to think of more things that could be considered 'fun'. "There are a lot of places to get drinks, too, if you want to make fast friends with the floor..." A soft chuckle came from him. "Training grounds, archery ranges.."

Legolas perked up at the mention of the archery ranges, "Archery, you say?" He smirked, "Have you any skill with the bow?" Legolas was fabled to be the best amongst his kin, but he was sure there were some out there better than he. He looked at Boromir again, smirk still on his face. He couldn't get rid of it. He tried suppressing it, but it just came back, until he settled for chewing his lip. He looked around trying to focus on other things, rather than Boromir's comment about making friends with the floor. He'd been there many times before and it didn’t end well at all.

Boromir looked over at the smirking elf, his brows pressed together somewhat. "Well.. No, not really. I can shoot a bow, but hitting something is another matter," he shrugged his shoulders gently. "My brother is very skilled with the bow," he said idly, scratching the back of his neck, "I prefer the sword." Eventually they made it to the fifth level and down on into he fourth, where the halls of the dead were located. Torched lined the way, even in daylight. It was a very quiet spot in the city, where not even the people's voices penetrated.

Legolas nodded, "I thought as much..." He noted the silence that seemed to encroach upon them and muttered something in his own tongue, in respect of the dead. Being an elf, he didn't have much experience with the feeling of grief or what it meant being in a place where the dead were buried. He waited until they'd reached the third level to ask more questions, if he could think of any. Boromir preferred the sword..as most Men do. "Are you wed, Lord Boromir?"

Abandoned manors lined the walls of the third circle, and part of the second, but the dark-haired people of Gondor seemed to be more abundant as they made their way downward. He smiled at the inquiry ad shook his head. "No..." he chuckled softly. "I am too reckless." He thought about it a moment. He had no real desire to be wed anyway, not now in his prime. His eyes flickered over to the elf. "Are you?"

Legolas shook his head and glanced around at the people that they passed. They all greeted him with curious stares, which made him feel slightly uncomfortable. He decided to focus on Boromir instead of the people's stares, "No...I am not wed. I was supposed to be...but the engagement was called off...Arwen lost her heart to another...for the best. My interests lie in other areas...and it's not really vital that I wed anyway. My brothers all have children and wives....the Throne is secured for generations to come..."

Boromir noticed the stares too, but ignored them for the better part on Legolas's behalf. He recognized Arwen's name, and that she was from Rivendell, but that was it. He gave a small nod. "I see. I suppose it wouldn't be as urgent for your kind." He didn't know, but guessed. "My father pressures me now and then... but.." he waved his hand dismissively. He just didn't have the time, really, when a majority of his duties were on the borders. He liked visiting with the children well enough, and would want some, perhaps, of his own someday. Just not now.

"Despite what you may think, it is actually. The once great houses of Elves are failing...the line of Elwe and Finwe are all gone. I think Lord Elrond is the only remaining link between the households. And that witch Galadriel." He shook his head, "Not my favourite person...she ranks right up there with the Dark Lord himself. As far as I‘m concerned, anyway." He huffed and pushed stray locks of his hair over his shoulder, "But my people are leaving these shores, so it matters not. Soon, will come the dominion of Men..and your world...We will fall into legend...never more than an ancient memory.."

Boromir listened quietly, looking ahead of him, hands at his back. It was too bad his father had not let his lesson masters teach him more about the elves. Such was his father, who said that their lives were none of his concern. His head quirked slightly when Legolas called Galadriel a witch, an amused sort of smile tugged at his lips. "Is she that bad?" He wondered aloud, hiding the amusement until it dissipated into nothing. He wasn't sure what to say about the elves leaving, and so he said naught. "I do not think it will come so easily, this dominion of men."

Legolas sighed, "Yes, she is. She is the daughter of a Noldorin Lord...and she likes to...play with people...like they were merely pawns. She ruins lives and doesn't give a second thought. She is controlling...." He stopped himself before he got too flustered, "She's not a very nice person at all...especially if you're of a lesser race or class than she." He huffed, but sobered quickly, "The Dominion of Men will come...but like you said, not easily. A great many trials are before you...but you will succeed...you will adapt and survive, as you were meant to." He looked to Boromir, "But anyway...I should like to know more about you, mellon-nin....You intrigue me..." To say the least.

Boromir listened to Legolas's description of the powerful elf. "I suppose I'll remember that... and avoid Lorien..." he coughed slightly, having to slow their pace as they entered the market place. "I only hope I will still be living when such a day comes." He didn't know if it would, but already he had devoted his life to seeing such a dream come to fruition. His eyes flickered over to Legolas. "Such as what?" He tilted his head faintly. He could have said the same thing, that the elf was intriguing to him, more than he'd care to admit. He seemed to know so little, that he wasn't surprised if he'd already sounded foolish when speaking.

Legolas shrugged and dodged a few people that passed him, trying to keep pace with Boromir. "I've heard so much about you...from others...Mostly from the Rivendell delegates...stuffy lot. Especially that Erestor...never before have I seen such a high strung individual.." He smiled at the Captain, then glanced around at the vendors selling their wares, "How do you live in such crowded place?" Legolas was still very used to his father's sprawling halls and immense forests, "They say you are quite the warrior...and you love your younger brother dearly..."

Boromir smiled faintly and nodded. He didn't know any individual from Rivendell, only of them. He glanced at the elf a moment, piecing together then tension between Mirkwood and Imladris, from comments he had made the day prior. "You simply get used to it, I suppose," he shrugged lightly, pausing when he had to, looking at the various faces as they passed. There used to be more children on the streets playing, but the numbers of them had dwindled. "I do love my sword, and combat... and yes, my brother too. We're very close." Where siblings had rivalry, the stewards sons had understanding of each other.

Legolas smiled at Boromir, "That..my friend...is an endearing quality..." He frowned slightly, "I am the youngest of nine....bit of a loner, really. My father and brothers are so consumed with trying to best Rivendell and keep our borders safe...my mother has left us..." He sought Boromir's eyes, "Count yourself lucky, son of Gondor, for being so close to your brother..." He pushed stray locks of hair behind his shoulder, "How often do you roam the streets of the White city? I could spend hours and days...just going through all the shops..."

Boromir had grown up calling Faramir his best friend, and still would openly. He felt Legolas's keen eyes, catching them a moment. "I do," he replied with a gentle smile. "My mother died when we were young, and my father slowly sipped into what he is now. After a while, all we had was each other to rely on." His eyes wandered the little signs that hung off of the numerous shops lining the street. "I'm sorry to hear you were not closer to your own..." He rubbed the back of his neck gingerly. "Not often these days. I'm not usually home, as it is. Is there anywhere you'd like to stop?"

Legolas pondered the question, then shook his head, "Not at the moment...my curiosity lies elsewhere." He smiled at the Steward's son, then turned his attention back to the people, "Mayhap you can be home more...with the legion we plan on sending you. The Legion commander, Ithilas, has been my father's most trusted general for several millennia...good man...He fought alongside King GilGalad and Elendil in the War of Sauron...and the elves...they are our finest archers and swordsmen...and they all speak the common tongue..so, don't worry about a translator.." He tucked one of his warrior braids behind his ear, then stopped, seeing an apothecary’s shop, "Apothecary? I didn't think those types were still around...hmm..."

For as many people there were out on the street, it wasn't loud. "It would be nice," he nodded, in regard to the new legion, "Though I'm a restless man. I can't seem to stay in one place very long." It was true enough. When Boromir was home, he rarely rested save to sleep. "I wanted to apologize for you having to wait, by the way, on my father's behalf. Once he sees what a fine army you send, he will be more trusting and quicker for agreements and trades in the future." Boromir paused in front of the apothecary shop, incase the elf decided to go within.

Legolas turned to face Boromir, "It's not a problem...I don't mind. Gives me more time to learn about the Men of Gondor..." He reached out and pulled Boromir out of the way of a cart, "I must say...I am quite taken with your city..." He smiled kindly, then looked around again, "Shall we continue, my lord?" He wanted to visit the shop, but not right now. He wanted to learn more of Boromir, but was sadly running out of questions.

Boromir stepped with the pull of the other, turning his head just to see said cart totter down the cobbled road. "My father is not the best example of the common Gondorian," he chuckled mildly. He made an off hand gesture for them to go on and continue. If Legolas had no questions, then Boromir would ask his. He was pleased to hear the guest was enjoying the city. "Are the things here much different from what you're used to? I don't know very much of your folk... or their customs.."

A slight blush stained Legolas' cheeks for the briefest of moments, "We've all but passed into Legend these days..." He looked around, then made a gesture with his hand, "This is quite different from my home....the Kingdom of Mirkwood is very...expansive...the elves live in the trees...away from the spiders and orcs...My father's palace rests in the heart of a mountain, in a system of caves...We have no markets, no places for people to gather...." He glanced at the Man, "But, Rivendell on the other hand....is in a valley....not a single door or window...it never snows nor does the weather turn ill...truly a blessed place...the Noldorin are lucky in that respect..." He clasped his hands behind his back, glad he didn't bring along his quiver and bow. Those got cumbersome at times. "As for our customs....what would you like to know?"

They had passed into a lower circle, where it looked much the same, save fresh produce was being sold. He listened to the description with interest, trying to picture a place where people lived in the trees. It was slightly difficult, but made sense with spiders and the like. "It sounds very unlike this place, or any place I have been before. I have heard the trees are so thick, that it is almost like night on the forest floor." That was his knowledge. Very little to even comment on. "Oh..." he thought for a moment, on what question to ask. "Well, besides immortality and the obvious differences, how are you're people different from these ones?" he gestured to the masses about them.

Legolas thought for a moment, then sighed, "We can die..we're not completely immortal...severe trauma will cause us to age...some, not a whole lot...We are nearly all infertile..children are so rare these days...My father was lucky with us nine...but still...Arwen Undomiel has been the last born elf. And she herself is nearly three thousand...only a few centuries younger than myself." He swallowed, "We can die of a mortal wound...boredom...and a broken heart." He sighed, "I almost lost my father to a broken heart...." He shrugged, "We are fragile creatures, really...but hardy in our own way..."

Boromir knew that they could die, just from studying the wars. However, he didn't know of the other ways. "No children... in three thousand years," he whispered, surprised. It was a small wonder how they replaced the fallen troops, should battle come to their borders. "I see," he tipped his head slightly, piecing together the picture of what an immortal was slowly. "An interesting people," he swerved out of the way of a few boys playing, no taller than his knees. "What about everyday things? Do you have daily customs, as the humans have breakfast and so on?"

Legolas nodded, "Of course...we have breakfast, lunch, dinner..." He smiled, "We have celebrations...the grandest is the Celebration of the trees...very exciting...involves lots of wine and ale..." He glanced back at the children, "My brother's wife was with child when I left....I think my house is the most fertile of all...sometimes too fertile..." He looked back at the man, giving him a curious look, "Facial hair...is a wonder to me...." He blushed, then looked away, "I know of only one Elf with a beard...Cirdan...of the Havens...he builds the ships we use to travel across the sea.....amazing bit of engineering..."

Boromir smiled in turn too, raising his eyes from the hard road after a while. "It sounds like your Celebration of the Trees are much like our own... at least the drinking bit." Boromir looked over at Legolas and grinned a bit, reaching up absently to touch the short hairs on his face. "Even here we have heard of Cirdan. Not his beard, perhaps, but the ship builder. Facial hair... is sometimes a chore. If one does not keep up with it, it turns into a rather scraggly look. The women seem to care more then the men, though, about that."

Legolas blushed again, "I know only one, well, now more, but personally....I only know one other man....most call him Strider...he is a ranger, from the north...and he is very much scraggly and I don’t think he knows what a bath is quite yet.." He picked at an invisible spot on his tunic, "Cirdan is well known...and a good friend of my father...I used to love his stories when I was younger...Mithrandir's as well...Do you know of the Grey Pilgrim?"

Boromir ginned, laughing softly. "Is that so. Most men, myself included, look rather unpresentable when he come back from a campaign. But most know what a bath is..." He watched the immortal quietly for a moment, before looking ahead and answering. "I know of him, and have spoken to him. Faramir, my brother... learned from him in the libraries when he was younger. But it was not long lasted, because my father found out and put an end to such."

Legolas nodded, "As did mine....I was not to be a Wizard’s pupil...So, instead...he turned my studies to war." He sighed, "My father is different now, than he was....I believe the Darkness of Mordor is affecting him...the shadow of the Dead lands...has spread father than just Gondor....I don't like to think of it, but I must..." He looked at Boromir again, "As much as I don't want to...and being so close...makes me somewhat nervous..." He looked away from the Man and focused on the ground, "Elves can't see in the dark."

"Your father sounds similar in some ways. Though my own put an end to my brother's studies, simply because he dislikes the Wizard greatly, thinking him to be naught more than an old fool." He remembered the disappointment in Faramir's face when Gandalf left years ago. "It seems that all lands this side of the mountains have been touched by the spreading darkness somehow." Boromir looked up, the outside wall on his left, the main gates open, letting in tradesmen from other areas of Gondor. He stopped before the gates, leaning am arm into the wall, looking over the fields for a moment.

Legolas moved to stand beside him, arms crossed over his chest, "No trees....not a single one....nothing standing between you...and Mordor..." He shuddered and looked away, dropping his arms to his sides. He felt suddenly naked, exposed. He sighed softly, then turned again to face Boromir, "Are there any gardens in this city? With trees...the only one I've seen is the White Tree...lovely as it is...it's not very talkative."

"There is a river, but no, no trees between us... and them." He pushed away from the cold wall, looking displacently at the dark, angry sky that was spreading it's fingers overhead, trying to rip away the soft, warm sunlight above. He started to move away, back to walking. Boromir may not have the empathy of an elf, but he could tell when someone was uncomfortable. "Yes, there is a very immaculate garden where the Houses of Healing are. We could see them, if you'd like?"

Legolas seemed to perk up at that bit of news, "Oh yes...I'd like that very much." He smiled brightly, despite his uncomfort to being so...open to the eyes of Mordor. He made a motion for Boromir to lead on. Perhaps he would show Boromir one of the many talents elves possessed. Conversing with the trees. "My people...are blessed with many gifts...some you would probably consider rather taboo...but I think my favourite is talking to trees....Twas the elves that woke the trees of Fangorn up so many centuries ago..."

Boromir glanced once more out over the Pelennor before leading on, taking different paths so that Legolas may see more of the city. He was used to being open to the darkness, even if he hated such. It was everyday. He gave a curious glance in the other's direction. "Talking to the tress... I have heard of such, but it seems rather strange to me. It is known to us that the elves woke up the walking being of Fangorn. It is not a place any one seeks out, though, for many are afraid." He stretched his arms out idly, popping a few joints. “What are the other gifts you speak of?"

Legolas shrugged, "I do not fear Fangorn....I would love nothing more to get lost in those woods...talking to the trees..." He smiled wistfully, "But alas, as you said..many are afraid...even my own people...the Elves awoke something in the trees...something deadly...but not really anything to be afraid of..unless you have an ax." He took a deep breath, "The Gift of Foresight...and...I don't not possess many...exceptional vision...except in the dark. I can't see in the dark...many of my people can't. We are creatures of light...The Noldorin are known for their prowess as architects...Some of the Halls of Rivendell are quite impressive...my father's own halls leaving nothing to be desired..." He didn't go any further than that, he didn't want to scare Boromir off.

Boromir wasn't necessarily afraid of Fangorn forest, but he had no desire to seek it out. He shook his head a bit. "I see where elves and men are different. Even those who enjoy the forests immensely do not stay forever, nor do they talk with them... the trees I mean." They were nearly up to the gardens, having taken a few short cuts. "The architects try to immolate the style of the elves... but the result is only a shadow, compared even to the drawings we have of the Elven homes." Boromir looked at Legolas from the corner of his eyes a moment before holding the gate to the gardens open for his guest.

Legolas slipped past Boromir and gasped when he saw the gardens, "Ed' i' Valar...." He took a few hesitant steps forward, looking around, "This is beautiful..." His mood much improved...he was practically glowing. It was amazing what a few living things could do for an elf. He approached the nearest tree and smiled, putting his hand on the bark, "They are singing, Lord Boromir....they say they are well taken care of...."

Boromir let the gate fall to a close behind them. He stilled, listening, but only hearing the peaceful silence of the garden. Even he could see the change in the elf, and glad for it. Quietly he walked to a wrought iron bench and sat himself on the edge of it, looking up into the sun filtering through the leaves. "Then I am glad," he replied with a smile, turning his gaze toward the elf, who seemed more at home here than wandering the stone city streets.

Legolas caressed the bark, like a lover would his partner, whispering something in his own language. The leaves rustled, though there was no breeze at the time. A single leaf fell into the Elf's open palm. Legolas smiled and moved to the bench were Boromir sat. Legolas didn't sit on the bench, but in front of Boromir, on the ground, staring at the leaf, "A token...of her affection."

Boromir watched the elf touch the tree like that, unable to look away. He had not witnessed someone talk, much less caress a tree as such. He leaned his forearms onto his knees, looking at the leaf when Legolas sat down, his brow slightly drawn up. "Now I see why they say the Elves are much in tuned with the trees, and living things of the earth." The elders took care of this garden, and indeed cared very much for this small patch of nature and live in the sometimes cold city.

Legolas looked up at the man, "We are in tuned with much more than nature, mellon-nin..." He put the leaf away, hiding it up between his bracer and the sleeve of his shirt. He stood and held out his hand, "Come...let me show you something...I've not done this in sometimes, so my apologies in advance if it doesn't work..."

Boromir decided to not ask, since he had asked quiet a bit already. Instead he nodded slightly and took the hand to raise himself, barely tugging as he did. He had learned more today, about the elves, than he had in many years of schooling. Books could only do so much in the ways of teaching. He had little doubt this was only a fraction. He nodded again, waiting to follow wherever it was, to whatever it was Legolas wanted to show him.

Legolas led him to the tree he'd been at before and placed Boromir's hand upon the bark, covering it with his own. The bark was smooth enough. "Do you feel it warming? Your hands are awfully cold..." Legolas stood to the side of the man, but rather close. An Elf's idea of personal space as much different than a man's no doubt. "She does like you, my Lord...she wishes you would visit more often..." Legolas looked at Boromir, "Even Men need to be around living things once and awhile..."

Boromir let his hand be touched against the rough bark of the tree, fingertips conforming to the small divots of the aged surface. His light colored eyes seemed to be a bit wider, not in curiosity so much, but wonderment. He didn't seem to notice the proximity of the elf, instead focusing on the tree and his words. Boromir gave a small nod, since he did think he felt something, though he could have been in his mind. Boromir looked up the length of the tree, before looking at Legolas. His smile was faint, wondering. "If I had the time... mayhap I would visit more often, to be in her company.."

Legolas smiled and retracted his hand, stepping back, "Take comfort with her when you can...trees may not seem the best companions..but they are good listeners...And they stand the test of time...so she'll always be here for you..." Legolas looked up at the branches of the tree. Some were quite high, "I wager I could get up there...though I haven't climbed a tree in ages...not since I was an elfling...about knee high to a hobbit..."

It was perhaps the first time in his life he had thought about a tree listening, or even being a companion. He let his hand fall away from the tree, giving it last look. His hands were rough, but not quite so abrasive as the tree's bark. Boromir quirked his head upward, spying the top nearly. "Neither have I... the last time resulted in a broken leg," he chuckled softly, but pondered what a hobbit was. He knew, but had never seen one. They were somewhat of a myth.

Legolas nodded, "I fell out the last time I tried...didn't break anything, but my father was furious...I was sent to bed with no supper...But luckily, my caretaker, Saelbeth, was the kind sort..he managed to pilfer some fruit and bread into me, bless his heart." Legolas circled the tree, looking at it from root to canopy, then glanced at Boromir, "Do you have any plans for the rest of the day? I'd hate to think I was keeping you away from your duties...sometimes I forget my manners....and my place."

"I don't truly remember, save for not being able to do anything for a long while. I was not the best patient." Truth be told, he still wasn't. He brushed the backs of his fingers against the tree once more, flicking his gaze to the elf, when he spoke. "No," he smiled, shaking a few hair from his eyes. "This day is the day of rest, you could say. Market day. I took care of duties this morning, and I'll recheck things before I sleep. If you'd like to say here, alone with the trees, I can leave you."

Legolas looked up at the tree again, "I don't wish to be alone...and...if I may be frank, I do enjoy your company, Boromir..." There was no title. Legolas felt they'd gotten past that, that and he wasn't really one to cotton rank anyway. His people knew him simply as Legolas...not Prince or Lord...just Legolas...His father's Greenleaf. He looked at Boromir, "Market day, you say? And you have nothing to do?" He gave the man a slightly befuddled look, "There...no...You don't strike me as one to sit idle....You remind me of myself...when I was younger. Quite the busy body..."

"Good," was his reply, rubbing his thumb along the palm of his hand without thought, feeling the coarseness. Titles didn't concern him too much either, unless it was in a formal setting, or doing paper stuff. "I have nothing in the way of training or commanding, or politics... I should say. The gates for the farmers are open on this day, to sell and make their profits. I'm always 'on duty' you could say." There was a lift in his shoulders, a smile on his face. "No, I don't sit idle. I'm very bad at that... But showing you things is doing something."

Legolas returned the smile, then tilted his head, as if studying the man, "You have a lovely smile...you really should do it more often...These are dark times, yes, but surely something gives you pleasure?" He glanced around the garden and took a deep breath, "This really is a lovely place...absolutely beautiful...and here I was thinking there wasn't a single garden in the city...some places are like that..." He looked at Boromir again, "Perhaps you should show me where the army trains...would be helpful for when the legions of Mirkwood arrive...We can learn much from each other...no doubt."

Boromir's eyes rose and turned to catch the other's compliment, unable to help but smile once more. He returned his hands to his sides, dormant once again. "Thank you. “He wasn't sure he had head anyone tell him that before. Maybe it was another thing the elves did openly; compliment each other and so the like. "I enjoy... some things, yes. I enjoy my position in training the soldiers, in watching their potential. And I would like to show you the grounds, now that you ask." Boromir started walking again, leading Legolas out and back onto the quiet streets. "You might have a little more difficulty getting me out of there, though."

Legolas smiled, "I think I'm up to the challenge.." He all but nanced past Boromir, spirits lifted greatly, "Mayhap I can help you improve your skill with the bow...and...you can show me how to better my sword skill..." He matched his pace with Boromir, walking along the cobbled streets soundlessly. He was still getting odd looks from the occasional passer-by. Elves rarely came to the White City...under the impression they were not welcome. Legolas had seen the contrary, though there was still tension in the air. "I keep forgetting that few here have seen one of the Fey folk....on my way here, I was mistaken for an Angel...I stopped in a small village in Rohan...I can't recall the name...I don’t think it was even told to me..."

It had not failed to be noticed how Legolas moved, much lighter than any man on the street. "We'll see," he chuckled softly, looking at the few people that did walk near them now. The upper levels were much more barren than the lower ones. "Is that so? Well, the people here have seen the occasional Elven smith, but no more of your kind." Fairly quickly the citizens deserted their sight, for the were not allowed past a certain point. The training grounds were open, as well as the archery range, all in the same location. A few men were practicing here and there. "Here is the militant quarter of the city, one of the biggest I'd wager."

Legolas looked around, glancing at those practicing here and there. He nodded, "It is rather large, I'll give you that..." He frowned slightly, seeing men in armor, "Now...I do understand the importance of armor..but is all that really...necessary? I mean...well, don't listen to me...I forget you do not have ready access to as much mithril as we." He walked a step ahead of Boromir, still looking over the grounds, "They are quite impressive, I must stay....for an equally impressive army." He had seen much in this city. "The whole city is impressive...especially from a distance...the way the sun from the west shone on the white stone of the city...it took my breath away."

Boromir was watching two of the younger soldiers spar off to one side. He had to resist the impulse to tell him how to better his stance. "It is necessary if you do not want severed limbs littering the earth. Mithril... yes, it's not something we have enough of to use in armor." He took a few steps forward, turning his head to the archery range, where some of the rangers were shooting. They were impressive, from a man's standard. "I'm glad you think so. I would not live anywhere else... but maybe someday, I will have the chance to look upon your father's kingdom."

Legolas looked over his shoulder, then turned to Boromir, "I would gladly show you all Mirkwood has to offer...though it is a dark, dismal place...not the forest it once was." He glanced at the rangers again, "They're good...they could almost give me a run for my money...but...Elves do have an unfair advantage..." He motioned to his eyes, then dropped his hands to his sides, looking again to the rangers, "These men..are the Rangers of Ithilien, are they not?"

On all honesty Boromir wasn't sure he'd ever have the chance to leave Gondor. He rarely had the time to breathe, much less travel long distances. Messengers, or his brother, were sent to do things of that sort. He nodded a bit. "That they are. Maybe they would like a challenge?" He cocked a brow slightly in Legolas's direction, though he didn't have to do anything if he didn't wish to. "I'm sure they'd be impressed by your skill."

Legolas couldn't help the smirk that crept up onto his face, "Challenge? My Lord Boromir...it would be a slaughter...." Legolas was never one to boast his skill, but he did so now in jest, hoping to see Boromir smile again. "I'm the best the Elves have to offer...Very dangerous over long and short distances..." He glanced at the men again, "As much as I would like to answer that challenge...I left my bow and quiver, along with my knives...in my chambers...I'm quite useless without them.."

And smile again he did, looking at the arrows hitting the targets, sometimes missing them. "There is nothing wrong with that. A little humility now and then never killed anyone." He drug his toe in the soft dirt, moving his eyes away from the rangers, back to the fair one. "Oh. Well... that is a pity." It was, truly. Even if Legolas beat every last archer, Boromir would have liked to have seen the skill at work. His own sword was always on him.

Legolas gave Boromir a look, "Where do you keep your equipment....? I will answer your challenge...but if I get attacked out of jealousy...I expect you to come and save me..." He offered a slight chuckled, imagining that scene. Legolas could hold his own in battle, he'd done so on many occasions, bar fights included.

Boromir smirked, pointing to a very large equipment rack, slightly obscured by some straw bales. "All right then. Just there." He walked towards the rangers, waiting for Legolas to get said things. An amused glimmer still held a gleam in his eye. The rangers were looking about curiously, or what few there were. Boromir had no doubt that Legolas didn't need any sort of saving, but it was silly to think about nonetheless.

Legolas padded to the equipment rack and picked out the best bow he could. Granted, the weapon smiths of Gondor were very good at what they did, Legolas still found the bow he chose to be..cumbersome. He grabbed a quiver as well, then moved to the group of Rangers, "Alright...who ever bests me...I'll give them my own bow." He was putting a lot on the line. His own bow. He was sure none could beat him, but there was a slight chance that he'd be bested. He glanced at Boromir, then waited patiently while the targets were reset and the first ranger brave enough took the first shot. The Target was missed the first shot, hit the second and the third, but no bulls eye. Legolas nodded his approval, then lifted his own bow, arrow already knocked, then loosed. He hit the target dead on. "This is terribly, unfair, my Lord Boromir..."

Boromir stood back, watching as the targets were reset. The rangers were more familiar with the elves, since most had traveled and been posted closer north. Still, an Elven Prince was someone they had never had the challenge of shooting with. Even if they were all bested, most were good sports and would be honored to shoot with Prince Legolas. There was a light murmur when Legolas hit dead on. "You must give them a chance, prince of Mirkwood," he said from behind, watching the next fellow step up to shoot.

Legolas snorted, very un-elflike, "What?" He looked at Boromir, "I'm going easy on them already...." He glanced at the rangers, then smirked, pulling two arrows from the quiver. He knocked them, ready to shoot. Just as the other man drew back and loosed his arrow, Legolas sent his two sailing and another two were following close behind, splitting the arrows that already had hit the target. He glanced at the next man in line, "Your turn."

Some of the men left, unable to face the near perfection, if not perfect aim of Legolas's shooting. "Yes, you look so very useless without your own equipment." Boromir chuckled, half smirking. He was a little disappointed that the numbers of challengers had dissipated. Faramir was very good, and would have been a challenge to Legolas perhaps, if he was here.

Legolas chuckled at the dumbfounded looks he was getting from the men as they glanced from target to him, "One must remember, I'm an elf. I've been doing this since before...the last great war." He handed off his equipment to a man that offered to bring them in for him. He shook his head, "I told you it would be a slaughter." He moved to stand before Boromir, still smiling, "I do hope your father takes a while to decide...I rather like it here."

A few of the younger rangers were certainly impressed with Legolas and his archery skills. "Yes, you did tell me. I knew you were better, but it was worth those candid looks." He glanced back at the few men still standing. "They'll go have a drink later and forget about it. I'll assure you it'll be more than a day. Besides being ill.... he is stubborn." He could hear laughter behind him.
The soldiers had watched the massacre and were highly amused.

Legolas smiled at the soldiers, glad he could at least bring some humor into their lives. He looked again at Boromir, "Good. I think this city is growing on me. It has so much to offer." He reached up and rubbed his nose some, having an itch. Then glanced around, the men had moved off to go about their business. Legolas looked down at himself, then straightened his tunic some, adjusting his belt. One might say the Prince was a tad obsessive-compulsive. "I am impressed by their skill, I must say...they faired better than I anticipated..."

"I'm glad your finding it suiting. I wasn't sure what you'd think." He absently wandered toward the soldiers who were practicing, sparring here and there. Boromir had heard that the elves were perfectionist, and now that he had seen firsthand, he'd have to agree mostly. "They are good, yes, considering most have only had twenty or thirty years to live thus far." He didn't wince when one younger soldier was defeated, struck rather hard in his well armored chest.

Legolas stood behind Boromir, having followed him like a lost puppy. He hated doing that, but it always happened. He'd attach himself to someone...and thus became like a puppy. He watched on as Boromir did, frowning slightly at the younger soldier's defeat. He put a hand on his hip and looked on as the two started again, "The young one is good...but he's putting too much force into his blows..he'll tire to quickly if this were a real battle...that and he's getting angry."

Boromir watched the dance as it progressed, a dance of blades and quick feet. He nodded in agreement. "He favors the right too, and the other noticed right away. But let them get angry." He waved a hand slightly, before letting it fall limp to his side. His fingers twitched lightly as the fight progressed, shaking his head when the younger one fell again.

Legolas looked over Boromir, then turned back to the two men fighting. He watched as the fight progressed, frowning slightly, "They shouldn't get angry...it hinders judgment. Get the opponent Angry...you're more likely to take advantage of him then...and win the battle." He folded his arms over his chest, "At least, that's what my arms-master taught me..." He offered a slight shrug, then looked down, hair falling into his face, and toed at a small stone with the tip of his boot. "He'll learn eventually..."

Boromir watched them quietly. The man was young,, to young to be sent out. "You're right, but he is young and will learn that lesson. The hard way, apparently." Boromir could see that the older, more experienced soldier was consoling and counseling the younger fighter. He felt it was better that the men learn most skills on their own and developed their own style before he refined and tuned what they needed to know out on the battlefield. He rubbed his elbow thoughtfully, glancing back at the rangers, who were regathering after their slaughter.

Legolas glanced at Boromir again, then sighed, "So...mellon-nin...what must I do to get you out of here?" He smiled slightly, almost smirking, almost. He looked around again at the grounds, then back at the small stone he had unearthed with the toe of his boot. He stood straight and smoothed out his tunic, then brushed his hair back over his shoulders. He was half tempted to cut it, so it wouldn't do that, but that would be almost blasphemous, at least for an elf.

Boromir lifted a brow and smiled lightly. "That depends on where you wish to go." He crossed his arms over his chest and watched the elf carefully a moment, the quirk he had about straightening himself out more often than not. He had only been jesting when he told Legolas it would be difficult to remove him from the grounds. Though they were friendly, he wasn't going to show his hard-headedness off.

Legolas gave a weighted sigh, "I know not....I've learned much about this city in the hours we've spent together..." He shifted his weight from foot to foot uneasily, then looked at the man again, "I believe I'm in the mood for a drink...I brought some wine from home, but I do not think you could handle it." He chewed his lip idly, looking at the ground, trying his hardest to keep a straight face. The Man could probably drink him under the table, but Elves were known to have very high tolerances to Alcohol of any sort...but, one never really knew.

Boromir yawned softly, though he was neither tired nor bored. There were still things he could suggest to Legolas, if he didn't know what he wanted to do. However, the suggestion that the prince gave made Boromir smirk lightly. "Are you so certain about that? Or is that a challenge of sorts?" Boromir knew that the elvish wine was very much stringer than any mead made in Gondor. But then again, when it came to drinking games, Boromir had been a worthy opponent.

Legolas shrugged, "Take it as you will." He couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face, "And I'm quite certain, though not as certain as I should like. I'd be delighted if you'd prove me wrong..." He glanced back at the man, "You up for that sort of challenge? And don't worry about hangovers, my father taught me a very good remedy for it...it works wonders." He kicked at the small stone again, then leaned down and picked it up. He studied it for a moment, then looked at his new friend and pocketed the stone. He had a small collection at home of little rocks that he'd collected from places he'd been.

Boromir unfolded his arms and scratched at the short stubble on his jaw. He smiled once more and gave a nod of his head. "I am up for that sort of challenge." He watched Legolas pluck the rock up and then turned to make for the guest quarters, where he assumed Legolas kept his wine since all of his belongings had been taken there. His stride was casual. Perhaps this would dispel the unanswered rumors that circulated the troops; that an elf was more likely to drink a man under the table any day.

Legolas all but nanced after him, completely unintentional. His pace matched that of Boromir's and again his footfalls made no sound. "You'll like the wine...it doesn't taste as strongly as some others...it's sweaty and it has a faint fruit taste." He glanced at Boromir, then back to the space in front of them, "We take it with us on long journeys...it's invigorating in a way...but still potent enough to make you feel the effects. I also have a skin of a darker wine that will knock a dwarf on his ass."

If Legolas had wished to do something on his own, Boromir probably would have stayed and sparred with a few of the soldiers. He was friends with his men; not very man commanders were always so well loved. However this was more intriguing at the moment. "I think I had it once, many years ago. I'll admit I have no clue what the taste was like." It had been given to him at his coming of age birthday, when the Gondorians considered you to be a man. He smirked faintly, looking over at Legolas as he pushed and held the door open to the guest hallway.

Legolas passed before him and went towards his rooms at the end of the hallway. He opened the door and held it so for Boromir to pass through. "Excuse the mess...I had trouble finding my tunic this morning." There were clothes draped over the backs of chairs and on the floor. Legolas was pleased to see that the fire had been kept burning and the bed was made. He glanced around the room, making sure nothing incriminating was left out, then he noticed his massage oil vial left on the bedside table. He mentally cursed at himself for being so careless. That particular concoction was hard to come by. He was glad it hadn't been lifted.

Boromir blinked his eyes a little bit to adjust to the somewhat dimmer atmosphere. He hardly ever came within these halls. "I've seen worse messes," he suggested, glancing at the clothes draped or tossed here and there. He never stayed in his rooms long enough to make a mess. It was clear Boromir had caught sight of that vial, since his eyes lingered, but he said nothing of it. He pushed aside some clothes and move to the fireplace to put another log on. The breezes that came off the mountain could be very bitter, even in the middle of the day.

Legolas closed the door behind them, then went to where his saddle bags had been stowed. He pulled the heavier one out, extracting the wineskins. He moved to the table and set the skins down, then picked up a couple of glasses that had been left from the night before. He filled each almost to the brim with a clear liquid resembling water, but its fragrance was strong and filled the room with it's fruitiness. He picked the glasses up and moved over to Boromir, handing him the glass, "Shall we toast, mellon-nin?"

Boromir poked at the fire for a moment, while Legolas went about serving the wine. The smell was soft with a touch of headiness, even overcoming the smell of the burning wood upon the hearth. He stood up and turned around to receive his drink, smiling faintly. "How about a toast to good negotiations... assuming there will be one... and may the best elf or man remain upright." He smiled again, more genuine as he lifted his glass for such a toast.

“I'll toast to that...." Legolas lifted his glass and knocked it gently against Boromir's, then smiled and took a sip. He closed his eyes briefly and moved to sit down by the window, on the sill. For a man, it would be a most precarious perch, but not for an elf. The sill was small, but large enough for his skinny behind. He looked at the fire, then at Boromir, "I'm sure your father will accept. We offer aide and better materials for the making of armor for your army. Mithril is very light...but as hard as dragon scales. And it's pretty....shiny..." He tried to stop himself before he said something cute, but continued talking anyway, "Elves are attracted to shiny things. I haven't figured out why yet."

Boromir took a drink of the wine and let it sit in his mouth a moment, tasting it's fullness and flavor. It was as Legolas had described it. Boromir set the glass down and turned a very heavy-looking armchair around, so that it faced toward the window the elf had propped himself upon. He gave a faint nod of his head before he sat down. "I think he will accept too. Normally he would not even look or discuss such things, if he was not interested." He took another drink, raising his eyes to the Prince. A smiled tugged on his lips. "Then... are the Elves easily distracted in battle? With swords and the like?" He smiled, teasing mildly, since he doubted such a thing.

Legolas chuckled softly, "Sometimes...maybe...No, we're not easily distracted in battle..." He took another sip of his wine and looked at Boromir, "It's the pretty...shiny things that distract us...Beauty distracts us..." He set his glass down on the sill in front of him and reached up, undoing his braids. He'd done them so tightly that morning, they were beginning to hurt a bit. Once they were out, he ran a hand through his hair, letting it cascade down over his shoulders. He picked up his glass again and took yet another sip, enjoying the flavor of the wine. "I fear I am getting rather attached to this city....and your company, Lord Boromir."

"I see," he tilted his head back slightly in the chair, shifting until he was comfortable. "Sometimes it is the same with men." Boromir glanced over the fire when it cracked rather loudly. A smile played on his lips a bit more freely as he looked down into his lap. "Are you? It pleases me to hear it... since I am not sure when you will receive an answer from the Steward. Normally it'd be two, maybe three days. But his health is poor, so it may be longer." He pushed some of his own hair away from his eyes.

Legolas nodded, "Though I do not wish for your father's poor health, I do hope it will take him awhile....it'll give me more time to learn about your culture...and you...that is, if you'd spare the time...I know you have duties...and I don't want to impose upon you...." He stopped, realizing he was stammering, then took a swig of his wine. He looked down at his feet, then again at Boromir, smiling and blushing slightly. "You really do have a lovely smile, Boromir...it's infectious."

Boromir laughed softly, before taking another drink. "You are the first to ever wish for his stubbornness, I think." He rubbed the side of his face thoughtfully, feeling the tingle of the wine in his throat more acutely. "I have things to do from sunrise until almost sunset. But I do not go to sleep early, so we will have time to talk. Do not worry about imposing upon me. I would like to talk with you until you have to leave." He looked up at Legolas over the rim of his glass, catching the faint blush along with the compliment, which for one reason or another, made him smile further.

Legolas leaned back and rested his head against the stone of the casing, blue eyes fixed on Boromir. He ran a hand through his hair again, then another swig of his wine. He nodded, agreeing with Boromir's words, "I would like that..." He pushed himself off of the sill and went to the table, picking up the wineskin, "Would you like more?" He forgot that there was a challenge involved and filled his own glass again. Miruvor was quite addictive. He wasn't about to pull the hard stuff out just yet. Perhaps the cordial would be enough to satisfy both.

Boromir seemed to relax further. Company to simply talk to about anything was hard for him to come by. It was always negotiations. His eyes flickered up to the Prince, and he gave a small affirmative nod. "Please." He set his glass on the small end table beside him to be filled. Though he had more or less been himself around the elf, this alcohol was sure to loosen his tongue some, if it was as strong as he thought. He was lost to his own thoughts for the time being, chuckling inwardly when he thought of those archers from earlier.

Legolas walked over to Boromir and refilled his glass with the potent drink. He smiled and set the skin down, then made himself comfortable on the rug, laying out on his back, upper body propped up on his elbows. He smiled at the man, then glanced at the fire. He sighed softly and rolled onto his side, facing Boromir. He took a swig of the wine, the set the glass down on the rug and rested his head on his hand. He studied Boromir for a moment, then looked at the man's face, "You should see yourself...the way the light from the fire lights your eyes...almost enchantingly."

"Thank you," he murmured appreciatively. Boromir sat up more in the wide chair, turning his head as the elf splayed out on the rug. His eyes wavered to the fire for a bit, watching the orange and red flames dance along the sides of the stone fireplace. A slight breeze from somewhere tussled a bit of his hair to the side, but he paid it no mind. Legolas's words brought him back to the present though. A faint color touched his cheeks, as well as a gentle smile. "You know... it is very hard to make the captain of the white tower blush." But apparently Legolas had done so. He held his gaze on Legolas a bit longer, not uncomfortable, but mildly unable to say anything else. And so he smiled.

Legolas pushed stray locks of hair behind his ears, revealing the delicate point that proved his race. He smiled charmingly at Boromir, "Is it? Well, if so...then I am proud of my achievement...." He took another sip of his wine, then set the glass down and looked back up at the Captain of the White Tower, "And what can I do to keep the colour in your cheeks, my Lord?"

Boromir took another drink too, letting the glass rest on the arm of the chair. His fingers, which were rather long and sturdy, traced the edge of the fine glass. He gave a quiet laugh, still feeling a light heat in his cheeks as he tilted his head up. He could always blame it on the wine, but he was completely aware of himself and the other still. His greenish-gray eyes fell back down to the Elven Prince. "I... don't know. Keep my cup filled, perhaps, and it is likely to stay. Why would you want to?" He grinned softly, perking a brow up.

Legolas shrugged and took another swig, "It offsets your eyes...which are the most brilliant shade of green I've yet seen....and...I know not...it just makes you look....somewhat...carefree...I think..." He shifted again, sitting up now, legs crossed. He held his glass in both his hands, spinning it slowly, "I believe I'm going to lose this battle, my friend..." He chuckled softly, "I fear I'll say something to offend you..."

Boromir tried with silent control to stop his cheeks from flushing again, but that was lost. He recovered himself with a smile, sitting up a bit better. His mother was the only one who told him his eyes were beautiful, when he was younger. He had been the only one with green in many generations. He drained off the glass in no time and set it aside. "Yes, you're already on the floor Legolas..." he pointed out with a soft grin. "But... I do not think you should worry about offending me. I won't ask you to drink more than you wish, though."

Legolas smirked, "That I am...it's rather comfy down here..." He stopped himself before saying more. He raised his glass to his lips and polished off the rest of it's contents, then set the glass down in front of him. He sighed softly and looked towards the window, "For two thousand and nine hundred years...I have walked this earth...and never have I met a person such as yourself, mel..mellon-nin." Having nearly tripped over his own words, he decided more wine would be detrimental. Though, more wine might be a good thing. It was good to relax, but..."I yield, Lord Boromir..." He chuckled, "You won...my fingers are tingling."

Boromir eyed him a moment, though a smile remained on his face, even as he looked back at the fire. Silently he determined that strong wine and strong curiosity were not necessarily the best combination, even if he liked winning and besting people on their challenges. "I could say the same thing, only I have walked for far smaller sum of years." The fact that he had only met a few other elves in his life made no difference. The line between races in the state he was in mattered little. "Your fingers are tingling and you stop?" He looked at Legolas a bit incredulously. Maybe it would be better not to say his whole body was tingling. He laughed softly, but gave a gentle nod of his head. He knew that mellon-nin meant friend, or some other similar word, but not many other phrases.

Legolas nodded and pushed himself up off the floor, moving to the wine skin again. He filled his glass, "Usually..." He snorted very un-elflike, then sighed, "I tend to be...a rather amorous drunk...It can be disturbing for some...but that's the way of things. I'm rarely angry, so I'm not a mean drunk...just a horny one." He blushed profusely and plopped down into another armchair and looked at Boromir as he took a swig of the wine.

Boromir laughed, not his quiet chuckle. He shook his head a bit, glad to see the blush on the elf instead of himself. The room was not yet shifting to one side, so in his mind, he was not inebriated. "I couldn't tell you how I am. When I drink, I drink enough not to remember what I did. I can assure you I'm not angry though... or else I'd never get invited to drink, which I do often enough." He made an off hand gesture, noticing he was rambling.

Legolas smirked, sipping at his wine, "I was never invited to drink with the soldiers...Very protected was the youngest son of Thranduil. But nowadays, he favors my brothers over me." He shrugged and took a swig from his glass, then looked at Boromir again, "We did have many a wild night though...." He sat back, head tilted, looking at the ceiling, "Though now we don't have much to celebrate...most of the populace has left...we are many in number, sure, The Sindarin breed like rabbits....but we are not as many as we once were..." His voice had grown soft, his look distant. "It's awfully lonely."

Boromir was a bit surprised to hear that the prince did not drink with the soldiers or archers. It faintly reminded him of his own father, when Legolas mentioned the King Thranduil. He was favored over Faramir, for reasons that were beyond his understanding or liking. However he did not bring such bitter sides of his life up. He chuckled softly, leaning back in the chair again. "I'm sure such nights were never very quiet here either," he coughed gently, glancing at the fire. "I could imagine it would be very sad to see... your folk dwindle in numbers I mean."

Legolas sighed, "Aye, it is sad...very sad...My mother left when I was very young..then my sisters...a few of my brothers....Now, it is just my father, and three brothers, and myself left of the Royal Family.." Legolas rubbed his eyes and smiled at Boromir, "But I don’t' want to think of such things...." He ran a hand through his hair again, "Are there any myths about my people that you've heard that might need clearing up?" He made a far off gesture, "You should have heard the things they thought about Elves in Rohan...in the Villages."

Boromir nodded in understanding and shifted in his chair a bit, thinking of other things. He tried to recall the various rumors that he had heard floating about the immortals. "I'm not sure. I've heard some of the soldiers laugh about the thought that the elves do no more but Nance about, inebriated on their wine, singing to the trees and so on." He smirked faintly and gave a dismissive gesture of his hand. "But I'm sure it was just silliness. They know that the Elves have great armies. I would suppose the villages would have... different takes. Elves are even more of a rare visitor to such places."

Legolas laughed at the nancing bit. Nobility of Gondor was slightly more educated than the royalty of Rohan, much more than Rohan's villagers. He took another sip of his wine, "Well...a few of us...usually the nobles...nance about...we do sing to the trees...and we do drink a lot..stagger about...but not so much anymore in Mirkwood." He paused, "My brother...Eol...would be a prime example of nancing...I don’t' think he's ever held a sword for more than a few minutes. He's always fretting over his hair and his clothes..." He gave an exasperated sigh, "And he's a heavy drinker as well...But a good man..." Legolas smiled and crossed his legs, "I'm guilty of nancing. I'm surprised you didn't catch it...dreadfully embarrassing."

Boromir curled his hands around the end of the chair unconsciously as he listened, smiling now and then. He tried to keep a pleasant, stoic expression when such theories were nearly proven by the elf before him. He paused in mid motion of pushing some hair from his eyes when the Prince mentioned his own nancing. He had noticed, but wasn't going to mention it. Instead he gave a bit of a dry chuckle. "I don't think there are many... men who nance. None that would do it openly anyway. But there are plenty of drinkers. The soldiers are disciplined though, and only do such now and then. What were the other rumors and myths you found in the smaller towns?"

Legolas sat forward, "Male elves can conceive children....we're all..either homosexual or bisexual...though that is true in some cases..." He shrugged, "I was mistaken for an angel on a few occasions...and for a maid once...that didn't end prettily..." He snorted, "I heard that Elves possess such great power...a few of us do, sure...but not all. The way they made us out to be in the villages...you'd think we were gods...We are a Blessed Race...long lived...we know naught of disease, except what can be contracted via poison...but the general populace is most certainly not a group of great sorcerers..."

Boromir's brow knit slightly. It was a bit amusing, or rather, very much amusing to hear a few. Anyone who had attended even a year of lessons would know such things. He shook his head a little and cleared his throat. "Those seem rather far fetched. Maybe those myths, if you could call them such, never came here because there used to be an elven smith on the first circle. I can imagine he went through loads of questions. It seemed to educate the towns people, more or less..." he gave a mild shrug. "But he left about nine years ago."

Legolas nodded, "They are most far fetched...there's only one case of a male baring a child...and that was ages ago...hasn't happened since..as far as being inclined to sleep with the same gender or not...I care not who others sleep with. None of my business." He sat back and looked at the fire, "The elven smith...did you know him very well? Where he was from, his name?"

Boromir half lidded his eyes. "What?" He thought it was a bit ridiculous that a male could have a child. He shook his head slightly. "To say that only elves sleep with their same gender is hypocritical. It is never spoken about openly, in our culture.... but it happens." Truth be told, he didn’t care either. "The smith... I can't remember too much about him. He had darker hair, but he was not from Imladris. I believe he was nomadic, from somewhere close to the sea. I can't recall his name."

Legolas nodded, "It happened...I tell no lies..." Legolas had slept with a fare few males in his time, but he didn't reveal that fact. He blushed slightly, then sighed, "Hmm...I knew a smith a few centuries ago...Celebdae was his name...Silver Dream...and he was a dream." Legolas smiled wistfully, "He was one of the few people I felt genuinely comfortable with..." He looked up at Boromir, same smile on his face, "It's the same with you.."

Boromir stood up out of his chair, but it was clear he was still listening. His head spun slightly, but he made it to the fireplace eventually, to poke at the embers and place more wood within. "Ah..." he murmured, crouching down to fuss with it. "Nine years ago I was not very old, and not interested in who was making the swords, but the weapons themselves." He smiled and stood up slowly, turning to face the elf again, though he remained leaning against the stones that the hearth was comprised of. "I am glad you are comfortable with me. I'll readily admit I have not spoken so freely with anyone in a long while."

Legolas still smiled and gazed into the fire, "It's sort of comforting...knowing you have a kindred spirit so far from home..." His gaze turned to the window, "A shadow grows in the east...He's preparing to make his war...the last war that will cover the whole world in darkness..." He blinked and shook his head, "I think I would be proud to fight along side you, Boromir of Gondor, if it ever comes to that...The old alliances are not dead..only dormant...They just need rekindling."

Boromir nodded, scooting to the side of the open hearth. He was young now, in his prime as far as mortal standards went. He only hoped that time would not bore away this side that Legolas saw in him, that he would no turn into a bitter, crumpled being such as Denethor. He signed and lowered his eyes to the rug on the floor. "We may find ourselves fighting together sooner than anyone could predict. Everyday the shadows stretch further... it is only a matter of time before the dam breaks."

“There have been whispers...among the Nobles in Mirkwood and Imladris..." Legolas sighed and ran his hand through his hair, then got up to refill his glass. He paused at the table though, and turned reaching for his saddle bag. He pulled out a bottle filled with a dark red liquid. He smirked and filled his glass with that instead. "Do not lose hope, Boromir....Gondor has many friends...your people will not suffer so much as you might fear...I listen in sometimes on my father's private meetings with the Grey Wizard when he blows in....This last time he brought a man with him...a ranger from the north...He bore the Ring of Barahir..."

Boromir nodded absently. It was not fear he harbored, but a foreboding feeling in the middle of his mind. His brother and father both spoke of dreams they had, or a darkness flooding over the whole of Arda. Boromir didn't have such dreams, even though the old blood still ran through his veins. He watched the Prince refill the cup, but didn't register it was a different liquid. "I wonder why this Ranger hides in the forests. You are not the first person to mention him." Boromir didn't elaborate. It wasn't well known that Denethor used the Palantir in the white tower, and he felt it should be kept as such.

Legolas glanced towards Boromir's glass, "He hides because he feels this isn't the path he was meant for. I remember him now. Aragorn, son of Arathorn...the last I saw him...he was but a babe in arms...such a darling child, really...but now...I barely recognize him...all sweaty and covered with muck." He made a very un-elflike gag sound, then took a swig of his wine and looked at Boromir, "Would you like to try some of this? Miruvor gets too sweet for me after awhile...but Berdruskan...it's heavy, yet lush and rich...very good vintage too."

Boromir watched Legolas speak, sighing softly. "I do not understand his reasoning. But there is naught I can do about it," he waved his hand slightly, dismissively. However the gagging sound made him smirk faintly. "Do Elves never get dirty?" he lifted a brow, biting his lower lip an idle moment. He looked to the new liquid, considering. "Please," he said after a moment, gesturing to the empty glass as he made his way back to the armchair.

Legolas grabbed the bottle and went over to where Boromir was sitting. He pour Boromir about half a glass, "I know you boast of your high tolerance, but this may be a little much for you, if you've never had it." He smiled sweetly at Boromir, then went back to his perch by the window, "And as for Elves getting dirty....that's only when we want to." He winked at the man, then turned his gaze back outside, "He's very exotic...or at least I thought so. He moves and speaks like an elf...but he's all Man....bewildering..." Legolas cleared his throat and looked back at Boromir, coming off his perch, "I find most Men exotic...because we're so different....you know?"

Boromir looked at the fire as the flames built up upon each other, infused with new fuel. He chuckled faintly, almost smirking at the warning the elf gave him. "I suppose we will see then. I do not think I've tried it before, unless it comes by a different name." He tried it, letting it sit in his mouth a moment before swallowing it down. Indeed, it was more heady, but not unpleasant. "I'm sure you noticed on our walk, that the same could be said about the Elves to the men..." his eyes moved and rested upon Legolas. "That they are intriguing... exotic if you will."

A faint blush stained Legolas' cheeks, seeing Boromir's eyes on him, "I think...what draws some elves to men....is the strength you seem to possess....You are a hardy people...made to survive..to persevere...Elves...we can die of a broken heart...or boredom...sad state of affairs, I'll tell you..." He ran a hand through his hair and smiled, "But Men....that sort of thing just...rolls off your shoulder and you go on living. You find ways to over come the hurt...the sadness...Elves die before they can try to get over something like that. And That is the reason I remain unwed...it's all for the better. Why risk my very being on something as trivial as love?"

Boromir relaxed back, so his shoulder blades pressed against the chair. He rested an elbow upon the arm of the chair, and in his palm rested the side of his face. He nodded thoughtfully to the answer the Prince gave, coughing gently. "Perhaps it is so. But do not think we aren't affected by such things. Though we may not die from a broken heart, it changes people drastically..." he trailed off a moment, thinking of his father after Finduilas died. "Like my father," he offered softly, taking another drink of the stronger substance. "I don't know if love is trivial. But I understand why you might not throw yourself into it."

Legolas sighed and pushed stray locks of hair behind his ears, "Some of my people shun yours. I don't understand why....you may not live as long...but there is such wisdom here...you can feel it. Especially in the elderly here...the tales they tell..." He smiled and took a sip of his wine. He waved his hand as if to dismiss the subject though, "These times are hard...let us talk of something less depressing....hmm?"

Boromir smiled faintly. "The wisdom your kind hold is what seems to scare most men. And the most would not admit to that. A strong race, yes, but a very stubborn one. Maybe it is what keeps us going." He shrugged his shoulders a bit, casting his eyes to the fire once more. His eyes looked like the top of a pond; glassy from the alcohol consumption. He gave a faint nod as to changing the subject, but seemed a bit dry on words.

Legolas snorted at the stubborn comment, "Yes, your people are most stubborn...set in your ways. That was the first thing I learned about your people. Elves on the other hand, some of us are stubborn...I'm as bull headed as my father in some aspects...He can be so...frustrating. I'm sure you feel the same way about your father...." He shrugged, "Anyway..." He took a sip of his wine, then a swig. He winced slightly from the burn. He glanced toward Boromir, "Are you feeling alright, mellon-nin?"

"Maybe it is the same for all the races, this stubbornness," he looked over at the elf again, blinking the reflective quality away as best he could. "Yes, the same could be said about me and Denethor," he chuckled dryly, removing his face from his palm, sitting up a little better. He laughed a little better at the inquiry, tugging lightly on the edge of his shirt, near the neck. "Warm. But yes, I'm... just fine."

Legolas smiled and moved to stand before the fire, that was dying down, "Good...Don't want you tipping over on me." He chuckled and stoked the fire a bit, then took another swig of wine. He looked down at his hand, which was covered in soot. He blew the soot off, "My fingers are tingling....it's starting to get to me...I'm going to go into giggle fits if I keep this up."

Boromir smirked and waved his hand. "You don't need to worry about that." The world did seem to have a fuzzy halo wherever he looked, but he could probably still walk without flipping over his own feet. He shook his head a little, clearing his throat. "Is that the worst that happens? A bit of tingling fingers?" He looked over at the elf curiously, smirking slightly still. The whole center of him seemed to be tingling, truth be told.

Legolas chuckled, "No...drunkenness is the same in every race, I think...slurring of speech, inability to walk...the inappropriate use of rather large words." He sighed and sat down next to the fire place, on the floor, not really caring if his clothes get dirty any more. He looked up at Boromir, "You know...when you smirk...it reaches your eyes...makes you look.." He cleared his throat, "Rather mischievous..."

Boromir smiled, taking another drink of the hearty liquid. He lifted a brow, noticing the elf actually seemed not to mind about the soot near the hearth. The comment made him laugh softly. "You're not the first to say that," he mused. When he smirked it could mean just that, or he was simply being sardonic. He tipped his head back and scratched thoughtfully at his throat.

Legolas watched Boromir scratching his throat with avid interest, "I've noticed that Men do different things with their facial hair...I like the way you keep yours...It gives you a more distinguished appearance." He looked down at his glass and sighed, "Almost empty...again. I'm beginning to think I'm a trifle bit dependant." He sighed, then leaned back against the wall, regarding Boromir thoughtfully.

He paused in mid scratch and tipped his vision toward Legolas. "Thank you," he said thoughtfully, "Though after a month out... I can assure you I'm fairly scraggly." He let his hand drop slowly once it seemed he had satisfied the itch. He chuckled softly, eyeing Legolas's empty glass. "And yet you do not seem very much intoxicated, even if your fingers are... tingling."

Legolas fixed Boromir with a look, "So, your goal is to see me drunk?" Legolas shook his head, "Could be bad. Very bad. Imagine...well, no.." He rubbed his chin, then ran a hand through his hair and sat forward, "You couldn't handle it. You'd die of laughter." He smirked and hopped up, pausing for a scant second to gain his balance. He was more intoxicated than he thought. Balance was always the first thing to go, then speech, then inhibitions. He retrieved the bottle from the table and refilled his glass, "I've out lasted dwarves....hah."

"Oh, no. Of course not," he raised a brow, suppressing one of those smirks. "What do you mean bad? Dying of laughter. There are worse ways to go, don't you think?" He smiled, idly rubbing one wrist. Boromir still had control over his thoughts, thankfully. His motor skills might be in question if he tried to stand up. It had been many years since he drank himself into oblivion. He didn't plan to do so in such company, though. "The dwarves...Hm. They are known to be tanks amongst the men here. Very hard to out drink."

Legolas took another swig and began to pace, his steps faltering a little in some bits, "Tanks indeed. I was amazed at the amount they can put away...but one, I can't recall his name...he was young though, maybe seventy at the most, he challenged me. And me, being me, I accepted. He was on the floor before my fingers started tingling." He sighed and leaned against the pillar by the fire place, then looked at Boromir as he unhooked the top two fastenings of his tunic, "It's hot in here."

Boromir groaned softly and sat forward, arching his back slightly as he stretched. "They even look a bit like barrels. Hardy folk, they are." He let his hands dangle between his knees, leaning forward on his forearms. "I watched one of our own drunkards challenge a dwarf before. Very impressive skills at the bottle... the man was face down in no time, while the dwarf barely felt a thing." He ran his hand back through his medium length hair, only serving to tussle it a bit. "It is rather hot." He glanced over as Legolas undid part of his clothes.

A faint blush seemed a permanent fixture on Legolas' cheeks now. The heat of the drink. He looked down at his glass, then set it on the mantle. He chuckled a bit uneasily, "I think I'm done with the wine for now. I'll start speaking in tongues if I don't stop." He ran a nervous hand through his hair, causing it to curtain his face some. He tucked the stray locks behind his ears, then looked at Boromir, "Do you think me strange, Boromir?"

The man finished off his glass, coughing softly. Far more heady than what he was used to drinking. "Any more of that I might start being honest," he smiled wryly, clearly jesting. He was an honest man. The flush on the immortal's cheeks was complimentary to the fair skin, he dimly noted, looking a little befuddled at the question. "No... Why do you ask?"

Legolas gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, "I know not." He sighed, "My father says I'm strange. I'm not like my brothers...Bit of a loner, that's strange I guess." He shrugged again and pushed himself off the pillar and went to sit in the chair, crossing his legs at the ankles. He sat back and looked at Boromir, head resting on his shoulder, "Never mind the question...twas silly of me."

Boromir remained hunched forward on his arms. "I don't think you are odd. Your company is... rather charming." He closed his eyes and rubbed his eyes gently with the pads of his fingers. Having a loose tongue was a rather annoying side-affect of being even slightly inebriated. He waved his hand a bit. "No, it's a reasonable question. To be curious what others think of you."

Legolas sighed, "I can be too curious sometimes. It gets me into trouble. Insatiable curiosity is the Elves biggest downfall." He flicked at spot on his leggings, then leaned forward to examine it, "Hmm...well, that won't do..." He scratched at it again, "Stained. Lovely. These were my best pair..." He looked again at Boromir, "I find your company very charming as well, Boromir. It seems like a life age since I've met someone with the slightest bit in common with me to talk to. I hope...that in the future....we can remain friends...."

Boromir folded his hands together and closed his eyes, though he was very much awake and aware. He chuckled faintly. "I suppose curiosity always has a reason. How else would you lean things without investigating or asking?" His lids parted when the other began to pick at his leggings. "I should like to hope so too. Friends you can talk with seriously as well as casually are very hard to come by. Friends in general... we could have them washed, if you like."

Legolas nodded in agreement with Boromir about the friend thing, "That they are. I think I may have about three people in the whole of Arda that I trust completely. My bodyguard, Celebdae. I'm actually surprised he didn't join me on this trip. But he does have more important matters to attend to. His sons tend to get out of hand." He looked down at his leggings again, then at Boromir, "It's alright. I have plenty to spare. And it's not that noticeable. I'm just a trifle bit obsessive."

Boromir gently shifted. It seemed that he was restless in the chair. He had always been slightly restless; it was in his nature. "There are many I trust, but very few I have ever confided in. Only two, actually." His knee bobbed up and down with the gentle shaking of his leg. An old tick, one might say. He nodded when the other mentioned he had more pants to spare.

Legolas regarded Boromir for a moment, "You're getting restless, my friend..." He smiled and stood again, moving to stand beside Boromir's chair, "I noticed it earlier." He sighed and turned toward the fire, then moved to the mantle, retrieving his glass, "I hope you will confide in me, mellon-nin. Trust me, we may need one another before the end." The end of what? He didn't know...he was just putting that out there. He glanced over his shoulder at the man, then looked down at the rug before the hearth, toeing the fringe with his boot, "Who makes these rugs?"

Boromir looked down at the rug, then up at the Elf, "There are a few shops in the lower levels that make rugs like this, local women mostly, their husband's sell them for a good price." He leaned forward then stood, "Well...it's getting late, and I must retire. Another long day awaits." He moved towards the Prince and clasped his shoulders, "I'll put an expediance on your proposal and see that my father gets on it as soon as he can. Thank you for sharing your wine...and your company. Hopefully we can do this again sometime."

Legolas smiled at the Captain, "Why don't you stay then? There's more than enough room on the bed. I could take the lounge. It would save you having to walk to your rooms." The Prince was flushed slightly, mostly from nerves. He couldn't believe he just asked that, but it was out now. He watched the Steward's expressions as he waited for an answer.

Boromir nodded, “Thank you for the offer...I think I’ll take it up.” He didn’t want to be parted from the elf just yet. At the moment, the Elf was his only source of comfort. He felt comforted around the elder, fairer being. He’d met Elves before...but none had moved him in ways like this Mirkwood Prince.

Legolas set his glass down on the mantle, then moved to the bed, clearing it off. He didn’t really understand the reason his father made him pack so much. He was only going to be here for a short spell. But it was turning out to be an enjoyable one. He watched as the man stood, stretched and began shedding his over tunic. Indeed, the man looked weary. Sitting on in a council chamber all day will do that to a body.

Boromir moved to the bed and climbed in. The beds in the guest chambers were much, much more comfortable than his own. Perhaps from being rarely slept in. He heard the elf move to the lounge and settle down. He smiled slightly. He’d heard much of Elves...but Legolas was a walking contradiction to everything he’d heard.
The Prince tossed a bit, trying to get comfortable, when he heard Boromir speak, “Wasn’t you that said there was enough room on this bed for both?”

Legolas looked up at the man and smiled, “I didn’t want....I mean...I thought....” He was stammering, so he just stopped talking.
Boromir patted the space beside him, “Come...I would hate you to be uncomfortable in my own home...And I don’t mind sharing a bed. I did it often enough with my brother when we were younger.” He saw the Prince smile and stand, crawling into the bed beside him.

Boromir rolled onto his back, head facing the lithe prince beside him. He felt something tug at his heart. The Prince laid with his back to the Man, giving Boromir the opportunity to look at him unabashedly. But then the Prince rolled over. And what happened after that; the touches, the kisses...the lovemaking, would stick in his mind forever, even though some of the memories were hazed with wine.

Boromir woke sometime before dawn with the golden Prince in his arms. He took a moment to admire the strong, lithe body of the Elf, then gently pulled himself from Legolas’ embrace. He quickly dressed and left the room before the house staff would be by to clean and to rouse the Prince.

The Day was for the most part, uneventful, but Boromir found himself tied up in more council proceedings as well as getting the new soldiers trained. A messenger came to him shortly before the evening meal, explaining that Legolas had left with haste. He had been called back to his home, left earlier that afternoon. Boromir was oddly saddened. He’d hoped that they would have had more time to talk, but...guess not.

The Mirkwood Entourage made their way back home. Legolas hadn't found Boromir to say goodbye. He looked back at the great White City as his company left the final ring, "Naamarie, Boromir en Gondor....Cormamin niuve tenna’ ta elea lle au’."


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September 28, III 3016, Minas Tirith, Gondor...


Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. And eventually the Mirkwood Prince grew restless. His father cut him loose after two moths of being confined within his own realm. So, Legolas began his trek back to Gondor, thinking of no place he’d rather be.

The Prince of Mirkwood had been called home before negotiations between Mirkwood and Gondor could be completed. It saddened Legolas greatly. He hoped he had made a friend in the Steward's eldest, Boromir. But not two months later, he was passing through the gates of Minas Tirith again. Alone, this time. His father had awarded him some gallivanting time, so he had chosen to spend it among Men in one of their greatest cities. He urged his steed on towards the Citadel. He hoped for a warm welcome, but from the looks the population was giving him, he hope was dying. He sighed and passed through the last circle and on up to the citadel. He dismounted and glanced around, then made for where he remembered the stables to be. Maybe he'd run into someone he knew. This was nerve-wracking....

Boromir had been just as disappointed that Legolas had been called back home. He didn't know what negotiations had passed between the two realms, and in all honesty he didn't care once the Prince had left. He figured that he would not see Legolas again for a long time, if ever, because of the difference in the way time passed between their different races. This day seemed to b not any different than any other day to Boromir, who was sitting on the steps of a tavern. But that had changed once he was informed that an Elf had passed through the gates and was making his way to the top. The stewards son couldn't help but feel his heart skip a beat or two in wonderment, if it was the elf he had shared time with some months ago. Going the back ways through the city, he also made his ways toward the stables.

Legolas held his rein's tightly and muttered to his steed in Elvish, letting his worries be known. His heart was practically beating out of his chest. The horse, on the other hand, snorted and shook her head. He led the horse into the stables, then handed her off to one of the stable lads. He inquired about the whereabouts of a certain Captain of Gondor and the hand didn't have a clue. Legolas frowned and went from the stables, heading towards the edge of the landing that overlooked all of Minas Tirith. He'd never let it be known that he was afraid of heights. He glanced over the edge, then backed away quickly and just stood there, cloak billowing in the breeze. Maybe Boromir would show up...on his way back home...or something. In the mean time, the Elf would just wait. Waiting was good.

Boromir was on foot, and though he had a long stride, he wasn't as fast going uphill. But eventually he made it to the top of the White City and gazed toward the stables, making himself more presentable, since the strenuous walk had probably ruffled his clothes and hair in awkward ways. Boromir had not been doing anything terribly important, obviously. The hand had silently pointed to where Legolas was standing; near that ledge he often stood on himself. The sight made him smile a little to himself, and he approached quietly, though it would never be quietly enough to escape any elven senses. He kept his hands behind his back and walked up to stand beside the other. "Welcome back to Gondor, Prince of Mirkwood."

Legolas positively beamed and turned to face Boromir, "Hannon le, Boromir en Gondor...." He threw all formalities aside and embraced the man tightly. It made his heart soar, being in the company of a dear friend. He pulled back and smiled at the man, "I'm sorry I had to leave...the King needed me for an extermination....spiders were getting thick again...but anyways....How have these last few months treated you, mellon-nin?"

Boromir offered a genuine smile when the other turned to embrace him, and in turn did the same. It made it seem like no months had passed at all between them. He gave the other's narrow but strong shoulder a light squeeze before dropping his hands down to his sides, nodding thoughtfully. "That is fine. Duties take us and bring us without any sort of warning, seems. Since I saw you last?" Boromir reiterated, smiling when he looked toward the sun. "Not much has changed."

Legolas nodded, "Same for myself. Though...I think my aft end is a bit smaller. My father gave me a tongue lashing I'll not soon forget for lingering here." He rolled his eyes, "I swear, if I'm away from that man's side for more than a week, he panics...rather tiresome." He folded his arms over his chest, "But now....He has no need of me...call it a holiday of sorts...." He smiled again and brushed his hair off his shoulders, "I chose to spend it with a friend."

“Your father yelled at you? What for?" Boromir lifted a brow slightly, gazing at the other before he leaned forward and rested his large palms on the sold, white stones that lined the edge of the outlook. To Boromir, it seemed that Legolas was far too mature of getting chided and such, but maybe things were different. Boromir was still considered to be in his young prime, though he doubted he could stand for such 'punishments' by his own father. "I.. I'm glad you decided to come here, of all places," he laughed softly, meaning every word.

Legolas shrugged, "I haven't the foggiest...I tuned him out the second he called me his 'Little Greenleaf.'" He chuckled, "It was rather amusing. When Thranduil rants...my brothers and I just nod occasionally and let him flail. He usually forgets why he's upset after about an hour." He reached out and grasped Boromir's shoulder, "I'm glad I came here as well...couldn't think of better place to get away...." He winked and shrugged the pack he'd been carrying off his shoulder, opening it, "I have a gift...I did make a pit stop in Rivendell...." He pulled out a small wooden box that appeared to be made of white pine, with the symbol for Gondor inlaid with Mithril on the lid. "I commissioned a friend to craft this....with you in mind." He held the box out to Boromir and smiled, "Open it..." The real gift was inside. A beautiful dagger also made of Mithril, with a wooden hilt, and again, the White Tree of Gondor was inlaid into the hilt and the blade, but in gold.

Boromir chuckled gently, shaking his head. "It doesn't seem so serious then. Denethor is like a snake when he is angry; quick to strike and leaves you bleeding for days," he said dryly, shrugging at his own analogy. Most of the Steward's anger had been directed at his brother, Faramir, but Boromir had gotten his share of the back of Denethor's hand when he was an unruly child. “It is a lucky week you came, because I'm not terribly busy with politics now, and Denethor is back to being.. himself. As in he's not ill." Boromir lifted a brow when Legolas presented him with the gift, never expecting such. He hand his fingers over the inlay on the white pine box, and then opened it as he was instructed. Legolas probably heard the soft intake of breath from the man, who smiled as he took the custom dagger out and let it catch in the sunlight. "This is a fine dagger indeed," he said in a little awe, maneuvering it skillfully in the air for a moment, before he grinned and put it back into the box for now. "Two unexpected gifts in one day, my friend. I'm beginning to feel spoiled."

Legolas smiled, glad to see his gift was pleasing to the other man, "I'm glad you like it. Galdor does good work...makes jewelry in the off season. One of the last great elven smiths...." He slung his pack back on his shoulder, "Since your not as busy...we'll have more time to get reacquainted and such." He glanced around, then looked back at Boromir, "I am definitely glad I returned...but I also have another purpose...and that will be revealed later...when we have a moment alone to speak candidly...." His tone was grave. Obviously a tiding of ill news. "Mithrandir makes his way here as we speak. He'd just left Imladris when I arrived....he had other errands to run though. It'll be a few weeks yet."

“As much as some of my people might grumble upon it, the Elves are superior in many metal works. I'm sure it will be of good use to me. My old blade is damaged and... well, old," he smirked softly, so the faint lines around his green eyes crinkled a little. The grave tone made Boromir cock his head to the side gently, moving his gaze to the pale face. He didn't like the sound, but he also didn't dwell on the meaning. Instead he nodded his head and eyed the pack on the elf's shoulders. "I see. We will have much time to speak," he said, and then turned his back toward the city. "Would you like to go to your rooms and have a something to eat? Or maybe the bath houses are open still, if your ride was long today. Whatever you wish."

Legolas nodded, "I think retiring to my rooms would be a good idea...get settled in again." He smiled at his companion, "Perhaps tonight we can speak...." He stood on the balls of his feet for a moment, then bounced a few times, stretching his calf muscles, "Maybe after I get settled....I'll go to the baths....my mount saw fit to make me bounce the entire journey....when I was nothing but kind to her." He rolled his eyes and sighed, "Women..."

Boromir nodded his head once and then started to walk idly. "Shall we go, then? I think the same room you had before is not occupied. In fact, you could have your pick over the guest hallway," he chuckled. "Nobody is visiting at the moment, save yourself." The guest halls were fairly close to the stables, so the journey was not more than a few minutes walk. "They nag and nag, and then give you a sore arse after treating them right, hm?" he smiled, jesting as well as holding the door for the guest.

Legolas passed through the door, and nodded, "Yes..pretty much. Least every female I've encountered. I just don't bother anymore." He looked around the inside. Walls of stone still made him nervous, but it felt like home...except for the vaulted ceilings. Mirkwood was so close....stuffy almost. He smiled to himself, "I think I'll take my old room. It's familiar....quite cozy from what I remember...." He adjusted the pack on his shoulder and began walking the familiar path to the guest hallway.

Boromir followed behind the other once the heavy wood shut. "The women in this town are not much different, I'm sorry to say," he chuckled deep in his chest, rolling his eyes a little as he rounded the one corner with the elf, and approached the door to the room Legolas had been in before. There was the smallest hesitation in his hand as he twisted the knob to let them in, recalling the last time he had been in this very room with the Prince. "Would you like me to leave you here for now? I could come back later or in the morning when you have rested."

Legolas shrugged and went to the bed, blushing slightly, also remembering, "It matters not. If you have things to do at the moment, I won't keep you. We can meet up later. He set his pack down on the bed, then looked over at Boromir, "Or you can stay...." He lowered his head and shook with silent laughter. After a moment, he looked back up, "It's often said, 'Go not to the Elves for counsel. For they will say both no and yes....'"

Boromir's brow twitched faintly at the saying, and laughed quietly. "So it seems.." he stretched his arms up above his head. "I have naught to do this evening, now or later. I swear this never happens," he mused quietly, leaning into the wall, before he turned sharply in the doorway, asking a servant-maid to bring some fresh water, bread, and fruit. "Legolas, would you like anything to drink?" he asked over his shoulder, not wanting to have the girl out twice if it were so.

Legolas opened his pack and began emptying it's contents. He heard the question and looked back at Boromir, "Water is fine..." He began sorting out his clothes from his other belongings. His weapons had been set aside, leaning against the nightstand. For as long as a stay he'd planned on, he certainly traveled lightly. Much different from his first trip...his father had insisted that he take his entire wardrobe. He couldn't have his youngest son going before the Steward looking like a vagabond....

Boromir waved his hand for the maid to leave after Legolas said that water was just fine. The two knew each other.. quite well, in some respects, so perhaps no wine or mead was needed to loosen tongues this time. Boromir stood in the doorway until the girl had return with the food and such. He thanked her and then took the things from her hands and shut the door with his foot. Once he'd set the assorted things out on the small table beside the two large chairs, he set himself down.

After Legolas had unpacked and shrugged out of his riding tunic, he joined Boromir beside the table. He'd kicked off his boots as well when he sat down, then tucked his feet up underneath him. He looked over at his friend, "Words cannot express how delighted I am to be back in your presence....being away was....rough...for lack of a better term..." He looked thoughtful for a moment, "No, that was an understatement, meldir...it was downright terrible....awful..."

Boromir smiled at the other once he settled, and then proceeded to pour them both a cup of water, sliding one toward the Elf's side, while keeping his between his hands. The words took him by silent surprise, but only because he had quietly felt the same way at times, which was something he was -not- used to. "I have... missed you too. A good deal more than I would have imagined," he said carefully, tipping the cup to his lips to take a swallow, before setting it aside. "So your return is a wonderful surprise to me."

Legolas picked up his own glass and took a small sip, shifting on his chair, leaning towards Boromir some, even though a table separated them. "I would have sent word...but I had to leave...as soon as Thranduil turned me loose...there was nothing that could have stopped me from getting to the stables fast enough. I was up and out of there in under an hour, I think. All I could think about was getting here as fast as possible. Good thing Elven horses know the meaning of haste."

Boromir seemed to take comfort in the fact that he had not been alone in his loneliness, as ironic as the statement seemed to him. “That is alright. I have a father as well, and know what it's like to be the son of a man in power," Boromir said idly, reaching up to brush some hair away from his brow, tucking it behind one ear. Surely, he had been distraught when Legolas left, but he had kept that to himself for safe reasons. "Well, for that I am glad too. I wasn't sure when I would see you again, if ever."

Legolas looked down at the glass in his hand, "Mithrandir and I talked at length about you...I know not why. He mentioned you...we were alone, of course...He said that I should make it a point to stay close with you...but...I know not what he meant...He told me that the bonds of fellowship go deeper that we know..." He looked up at Boromir, then shook his head and smiled, "But he likes speaking in riddles....and I haven't the attention span for things like that." That probably wouldn't bode well, but it was the truth. Legolas was a man of action, not necessarily of intellect...

Boromir had to wonder what it was they spoke of to come to that conclusion. Unlike his father, he did not have an aversion to the Grey Pilgrim, but he also did not know his ways or mans of thinking. "I do not understand what he meant either, but I think I do not mind his advice," Boromir smiled gently, looking over at the other as he spoke, before settling against the arm that was closer to Legolas and the table between them. "And yet it makes sense, perhaps.." he said, trailing off a little lost in his own thoughts. "I could never figure out what he was saying either. That was more of my brother's gift."

Legolas nodded and made a face, then took a sip of water, "From what I heard in Rivendell...Gandalf the Grey caused quite a stir in the shire...for the wood elves at least with his fireworks." He leaned back in his chair, golden hair flowing over his shoulders, "But...anyway...." He finished off his glass of water and looked down at the fruit. He picked up an apple and examined it, then took a bite. After he swallowed, he looked at Boromir again, "My heart feels like it's going to pound out of my chest...."

“His reputation is strange," Boromir commented, shaking his head a little. He didn't need to go into detail that Gandalf was not liked by his father and so on. He believed it was well known to all. "I suppose there are worse things than fireworks." Boromir looked at the food, but didn't take any. He had eaten at the tavern not even an hour ago, and was sated in that sense. "Why does your heart beat so quickly?" Boromir asked after a idle pause, finishing off his water before he set it aside completely.

Legolas blushed, "I know not..." He lowered his gaze, "I guess...memories...of before...." He shook his head, waving it off. He didn’t know if the man wanted to discuss it. Most wouldn't. And Legolas wouldn't blame him. In fact, he understood. Through his limited experience with the race of Men, things like that often went unknown and unsaid betwixt them. He cleared his throat, then sat forward, resting elbows on his knees. He folded his hands in front of him, then looked over at the man. "I suppose I was just...excited about seeing you again....your presence warms my heart in ways no one ever has...."

Boromir knew exactly what Legolas was speaking about, because he felt it to. Just perhaps in a slightly different manner. He could feel his belly tighten a little, and a flush spread it's fingers across his neck that the shadows might or might not hide. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable to speak about it; he just did not know how. Boromir sat back in his chair, but looked at the elf with a kind, almost admiring sort of gaze. "I had no anticipation of your return, but I will not pretend I didn't think about.. before. I did nearly every night since you had to leave."

Legolas offered a small smile and looked away, blushing slightly. According to Elven tradition, they were bound...but Legolas would not push that on the Man. It wouldn't be fair. He'd just have to settle for looking after Boromir...keeping a watchful eye on him. "I dreamed of you...Sometimes...when the breeze would float by...I'd catch your scent..." He leaned back again and crossed his legs at the ankles, stretching his bare feet a bit, "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't lost my heart....but I'm afraid I'm being premature...or overstepping the bounds of our friendship..."

Boromir didn't know if the heat had risen to his face yet, but it was only a matter of moments. He didn't know the tradition of the Elves, or what it meant after that night months ago. "Is that so?" Boromir smiled softly, keeping his hands steady, because the talk made them itch to reach out and feel the other's hair again, just once more. The fact that Legolas spoke of his heart being lost hurt a little for some reason, because it didn't seem at all fair to the Prince. "I do not know that we haven't already crossed many lines already.."

The Elf nodded and reached up to his hair, unbraiding it. The braids were useless now. And once freed, the hair that had once been bound back by a simple plait, flowed down over his shoulders, creating a golden curtain, hiding his face, "Well...come what may, Boromir of Gondor...." He looked at the man, "You'll always have someone at your back...." He smiled again, but it didn't really reach his eyes. He meant what he said. He wouldn't say it, but his own fate was now tied to that of Boromir's....

Boromir was thinking quietly to himself on the matter, looking thoughtful, though he was listening to what Legolas had to say. "I am grateful for that, and for our friendship, Prince," he said, also meaning the words that fell from his mouth. He rested his hand on the table beside the water jug idly. "I will always be there for you as well," he said, but he was a little uncertain about it, simply because he was a mortal, and his life was nothing but a blink in the eyes of an elf.

Legolas studied the man for a moment. Indeed his life would be naught more than a drop in the bucket compared to his own life. He was already pushing three thousand. Boromir couldn't be more than thirty. If that. He ran a hand through his hair, then stood moving to kneel in front of the man, "Gerich meleth nin..."

Boromir lifted his eyes when Legolas rose, and kept them on the other's face even as he knelt. He knew some Elvish, and slowly tried to comprehend and translate the few words in his mind, as to not look foolish. He got roughly 'you have my love'. He wasn't sure if he was accurate, but the feeling seemed to be right and appropriate. He swallowed quietly and then leaned forward, closing the space between them some. "And you, mine."

Legolas gave Boromir a wide smile. He hadn't expected that. Legolas leaned up, so their faces were scant inches away from one another, "You have no idea....how much that gladdens my heart, meleth-nin...." Legolas wished he could be more eloquent, but like Boromir, he often found himself tripping over the words. He lifted a hand and cupped the side of Boromir's face, then pressed his forehead to the man's, breathing in that familiar scent, "I am bound to you...in life...and death..and I would not have it any other way..."

Boromir felt the tension in his shoulders give away, as well as in his chest. He supposed it had been there in fear of.. something. he wasn't sure what. "I'm sorry if you did not know it before," Boromir said honestly, rested his brow against the other's when it was close enough. His fingers moved forward and slid gently across the side of Legolas's neck, resting there for now. "But how can it be so? I will not live as long as you shall," Boromir said quietly, because indeed they were in a precarious spot if anyone should be listening close by.

Legolas brushed his thumb over Boromir's cheek, closing his eyes, "It matters not. Bound to you I am...and when you pass, so shall I. I will diminish...and pass into the west...and there dwell in the Halls of Mandos...." He sighed and pressed his lips to Boromir's. Heaven forbid someone barge in on them. That would be horrid. He pulled back and looked over the man's face, "A price I would gladly pay...to be with you."

Boromir had also closed his eyes for the moment, balancing his forehead against the other's gently. He didn't know how he felt about the other's response to what would happen when the time came for his life to end. “I..” He whispered quietly, but the statement was fortunately cut off by the kiss, which he gave back with a certain amount of need laced into it. Even though Legolas had pulled back, the man's hand remained against the slender neck. "No one has ever made me feel this way. I have never loved like this."

Legolas smiled and locked his eyes with the man's, "Myself as well....I have never felt this deeply.....for anyone...not in all the long years of my life...." He moved his hand down to Boromir's shoulder, placing his other hand on the Man's thigh. "But like they say....There's a first time for everything...." Legolas knew it would be hard going for them. The separation would be damning, but if their love was true, they would endure. And maybe, just maybe…he could save his Beloved Boromir from the wretched fate that awaited him. Curse that old Wizard and his riddled warnings. The Elf smiled and kissed Boromir again, tenderly, making it linger.

Boromir locked gazes with the other's while he could. He couldn't imagine going thousands of years without something strong like this; even his few decades felt too long, but then again he was a mortal. "That is what they say.." Boromir agreed, lifting his free hand to cup the side of Legolas's face when they kissed again. He held onto it, parting once, but only to press a kiss to the other's mouth at the corner. One more would never be enough.

Never enough, indeed. Legolas leaned further into the kiss, moving his hands to Boromir's hips, and deepened it. He managed to wedge himself between Boromir's knees and ran his hands up and down the man's thighs. Legolas never pictured himself losing himself to a Mortal, but it was definitely worth whatever fate would come on the eve of Boromir's death. He broke the kiss a moment, "I love you...." It had already been said, but he felt he hadn't said it enough.

Boromir felt the bow-strong hands run over his hips, and shifted in the chair so that Legolas could rest between his parted knees more easily. He felt his chest expanding and contracting a little bit quicker as the seconds passed. Boromir had never pictured this either, but that didn't make him feel uneasy, because it made him feel right and secure despite what would happen if it ever got out into the open. They would just have to be careful, because the men were not as accepting as the Elves. "And I love you," Boromir whispered, pulling the other even closer.

Legolas gladly moved closer to the man. There was something that was most definitely comforting, being surrounded by arms, tempered by years of wielding a sword. He smiled and kissed the man's neck, again cupping the Man's cheek. They would most likely have to have a long discussion about etiquette, but it probably wasn't needed. Legolas knew that the race of Man frowned upon such relationships. Elves condoned it, but it wasn't widely accepted. They would have to be most discreet.

Where Legolas was willing to pass, Boromir was willing to put his life on the line in order to satisfy the need to be close with the Prince in his arms. He could be banned from his homeland, or if the wrong sort of people found out, even worse than that. He curled one arm around the lithe-but-strong middle, and thumbed gently over the soft, bowed bottom lip of the other. "I wanted to let you know.." Boromir spoke quietly, sitting back in the chair a little, but also pulling the body with him gently. "..That I knew after that night we'd shared. That was when I knew I felt this way."

Legolas settled himself within the other's embrace, lithe body pressed as close as possible, "I lost my heart the moment you first smiled..." He smirked and kissed the Man's jaw, "What a pair we make....A Captain of Gondor....and the wayward Elvish princeling of Mirkwood...it works though." He nuzzled Boromir and sighed contentedly, "I could stay like this forever...."

Boromir tried to make it less awkward for him to hold the elf close, because the chair wasn't massive, and Boromir wasn't exactly a tiny man, either. The compliment and kiss made him smirk gently. "I don't know how long forever will be, but I'm certainly not going to move anytime soon.." he said with a softly laugh, nuzzling his face into the other's hair for a moment, because it was amazingly silky and soft.

Legolas was practically purring, but then he pulled himself from Boromir's grasp, "Well, Son of Gondor, I'm going to make you move...You, me, bed, now." He pointed, then skipped the few steps to the bed and flops down, sighing softly, "This is much better....You should join me..."

Boromir tried to sulk, though he wasn't sure it was all so convincing when Legolas pulled from his arms. "You drive a hard deal, Prince of Mirkwood," he smirked gently, but eventually lifted himself out of the chair to wander over to the bed, discarding his shoes before he got onto it. It felt like it had the last time he laid in it, except better because his head wasn't swimming with wine.

Legolas moved closer to Boromir. It was definitely much better being close like this without the aid of wine. Thank the Valar that night hadn't caused any tension, aside from the fear of being found out. He draped a leg over the man's and an arm followed. "I could get used to this....lying with you each night...falling asleep in your arms...waking up with you..." It would be bliss, but something told him Boromir would have to stay in his own rooms at night, so as not to raise suspicion.

Boromir rested on his side for now on the rather roomy bed, seemingly the perfect size for the two bodies upon it at the moment. He was glad he wasn't in ceremonial garb, or even armour at the moment, lest it would be stiff moving and uncomfortable. Instead he just had on simple cotton clothes, embroidered over his heart with his countries symbol. "I would like nothing more than that.." Boromir admitted, reaching forward to curl one strong arm around Legolas's waist, bringing him closer. "But I.. we must be careful."

Legolas nodded in agreement, "Yes...I know....very careful...you never know who could be watching...." He sighed and rested his head on Boromir's shoulder, tilted up somewhat. He reached up and felt the course stubble and facial hair, brow furrowed slightly. "So different...yet so much the same....tis odd...but intriguing..." He nipped at Boromir's jaw, then reached up and moved the man's face to face his own, then kissed him gently.

Boromir nodded a little wearily, because he didn't like the thought of living in secrets. It was a hard thing to do, though he'd do it for love. "There are people constantly watching here in the city," he said quietly, tipping his head a little for Legolas to touch and then nip his rough jaw line, smirking. "I find it just as odd that you've never had to shave," he grinned lightly against the silken lips before kissing him back, eyes fluttering a little before closing, while he pressed even closer.

Their reunion was bittersweet, and definitely welcomed, though the darkness creeping westward from Mordor overshadowed everything, creating a sense of impending doom for all involved.
Months ticked by, the pair had grown even closer than what had they had originally intended. It was more than just the deep bond shared between friends and lovers. It spanned way beyond that, beyond any words in the tongues of Man and Elf alike.

And as with any passing of time, the time came for Legolas to leave again, much to his displeasure. Riders from Mirkwood had arrived and pulled him away from an archery lesson with the Ithilien Rangers. Thranduil was not well and the darkness that had seemed to consume most of the Realm of Gondor was inching it’s way northward. Legolas had been summoned.

Boromir didn’t like that at all. Things always seemed to take a turn for the worst whenever he found a shred of peace. Legolas had sworn up and down that he would return as soon as he was able, but something deep inside told Boromir that this would most likely be their last meeting. He hoped and prayed that it would not be, but some things you just could not help.

And he watched the Elf Prince ride off into the distance, headed north to his woodland realm. His heart hit the floor the very moment he couldn’t see the Prince on the horizon anymore. With a deep sigh, and a heavy heart, he returned to the citadel. Denethor requested his presence. He was being sent out to Osgiliath to assist his brother in reclaiming the fort there. It didn’t take long for the troops to assemble and head out, but the reclaiming of the city took days, almost weeks. Boromir had lost count. But when they’d finally won back the city, he was elated, relieved…and he’d never been so happy in his whole life to see his little brother. Something was missing, though, something big.

Boromir stood atop one of the higher ruins in what remained of the fort. He stuck the banner he held into a place between the bits of fallen rubble and shouted, "This city was once the jewel of our kingdom. A place of light and beauty and music. And so it shall be once more! Let the armies of Mordor know this: Never again will the land of my people fall into enemy hands. This city of Osgiliath has been reclaimed for Gondor!" His men shouted in return, "For Gondor!" It was a beautiful moment. On his way down from the top of the ruin, he paused and took out the dagger that had been gifted to him by his fair elvish prince, "For you, I do this...and for Gondor..." He kissed the hilt and put it away before continuing his trek downward where he was met by this brother at the bottom.

Faramir embraced and smiled up at him, "Good speech. Nice and short."
Clapping his brother on the shoulder, he laughed, "Leaves more time for drinkin'!" He barked an order to break out the ale and was swiftly obliged. He left his brother only to go get two mugs and come back, "Remember today, little brother...Today...life is good." Faramir smiled, but upon glancing behind Boromir, his expression changed, causing Boromir to frown, "What is it?"
Faramir sighed, "He's here..."

Boromir looked to where Faramir had been gazing only a moment before and winced, "One moment of peace, can he not give us that?"
Denethor's voice was heard over the other men, "Where is he? Where is Gondor's finest? Where is my first-born?"

Boromir turned around and embraced his father, "Father!" He smiled on the outside, but on the inside, he was stewing...why had his father come? He didn't need to be here!

Looking over his son, the older man smiled widely, "They say you vanquished the enemy almost single handedly."

Boromir couldn't help the blush that crept onto his face and he looked down for a second, "They exaggerate...The Victory belongs to Faramir also.." He moved out of the way so his brother could stand beside him in front of their father.

Denethor's expression changed instantly upon seeing the lesser brother, to one of disdain, "If it had not been for Faramir...this city would still stand. Were you not entrusted to protect it?"

Faramir looked hurt, "I would have done, but our numbers were too few."

"Oh, too few...You let the enemy walk in and take it on a whim....Always you cast a poor reflection on me..." Denethor was practically sneering...
Faramir had given up trying to win this arguement already, "That is not my intent...."

Boromir stepped in before it could get out of hand. He really didn't need to pick up the pieces of Faramir's crushed spirit once more, though he would do so again and again...willingly, "You give him no credit....and yet he tries to do your will." He walked away then, Denethor following close behind and rather angrily.

"Do not trouble me with Faramir, I know his uses, and they are few...We have more urgent things to speak of. Elrond of Rivendell has called a meeting. He will not say why, but I have guessed it purpose. It is rumored that the weapon of the enemy is found."

Boromir frowned, "The One Ring...Isildur's Bane."
Denethor continued, "It has fallen into the hands of the elves. Everyone will try to claim it; Men, Dwarfs, wizards... We cannot let that happen. This thing must come to Gondor."

Boromir looked at his father as if in a trance, "Gondor..."

Again, Denethor continued, knowing he had his eldest's attention, "It's dangerous, I know. Ever the Ring will seek to corrupt the hearts of lesser Men. But you, you are strong. And our need is great. It is our blood being spilled, our people who are dying. Sauron is biding his time. Hi's massing fresh armies. He will return. And when he does, we will be powerless to stop him. You must go. Bring me back this mighty gift."

Boromir shook himself out of it and frowned, "No. My place is here..with my people...not in Rivendell..." He left his father's side to go to his brother's.

Glaring at Boromir's retreating back, Denethor growled, "Would you deny your own father?"

Faramir piped up then, "If there is need to go to Rivendell...send me in his stead."

Denethor's anger now turned to Faramir, "You? Oh...I see...A chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to show his quality. I think not. I trust this mission to your brother. The one who will not fail me...."

His father's words had stung Faramir deeply, but for the rest of the day, the old man left them in peace as Boromir readied to go to Rivendell.

When it came time for Boromir to depart, he sat upon his mount, looking up the flag he had planted for a long moment before turning his attention to his little brother, "Remember today, little brother..."

Faramir nodded, tears welling in his eyes. He couldnt' shake the feeling that this would be the last time he'd see his brother alive. He watched Boromir ride off into the sunset, then went back to rebuilding Osgiliath...uttering a silent prayer for his brother.