Sons of the Steward

Rangerlady is kind to Elven!!! *sniffle* Thank you, thank you!! *bangs head like Dobby* ;)

*

The rooms were spacious, if nothing else. Minuial sat alone in her quarters—quarters that adjoined Haldir’s, much to her displeasure. She supposed she should be grateful she had gotten these, anyway. Haldir had almost insisted that he be allowed to share a room with her, but one sharp look had prevented that. Aragorn had smiled at the effort though and offered these and so now she had the security of knowing the Marchwarden was a wall and an unlocked door away from her should the need arise. Not that she anticipated that, anyway. The mission was a dangerous situation in itself and eventually hiding from and fighting trouble would do no good.

She heard movement in the room beside hers and sighed, knowing without doubt that Haldir would come to her eventually. He was a good Elf, apart from his flaws, and she valued his company more than any other that could have joined her from Lothlórien. Yet she knew she would never get away from him if she allowed him in. He had the look of a man that accepted death was hunting him and he would not turn away last minute joy if the situation offered. Perhaps that would be an option, too, but not just yet.

Standing, she went to a vanity of the far side of the room and looked herself over. She had changed from her silver hunt wear in favor of something a little more relaxed. Her tunic wrapped around her like an embrace, baring a modest glimpse of her chest at the neckline. She had two daggers strapped to her waist and a few hidden in other places as well. Making sure her braided hair was in place, she went for her cloak, then left her room as quietly as she could manage.

The halls were bare here in the guest quarters. She was pleasantly alone and cherished that for as long as she could, for she knew the company of Men to come would be daunting at best. Light streamed in through windows to her left, blowing the white sheer curtains and sailing in across her face. The air had a crisp, briny smell to it that came from being so near to the sea across the way. She could feel the sea so close, could feel the adamant call towards the shores of Aman. It tugged at her heart, the lost future her people had given away when the darkness had tempted them. The shores were barred to her people now for the blood they had spilled in vengeance. The war with Rohan had been swift and violent. She could recall the eyes of Théoden when finally Lord Celeborn had broken through the defenses of Helm’s Deep, approaching as a wild cat approaches a fallen deer. The King of Rohan had paid for his nephew’s quick judgment upon their emissaries, just as Denethor would pay for his sons.

Sometimes it shocked her how far her people had gone; how far she had gone. But they could not afford to hold to the past. Lothlórien had to move on and this was the beginning—a dark beginning to repairing the present for the sake of the future.

Once outside she was greeted by the visions of the Men she knew would find her. Here so high on the sixth level were mostly guards and healers. She stopped a young man wearing the mantle of Gondor, calling, “May I beg some help?” She felt disgusted by her saying that, but knew to gain anything here she would have to appear just as Men saw Elves. Submissive and gentle.

The boy stopped and turned, looking at her ears sharply. “Yeah?” he said stiffly.

Minuial smiled despite herself. “Would you direct me towards a place where I could get a drink?”

“There should have been wine in your room if you’re a guest here,” he said, then started off again.

“What if a lady drinks ale?” she asked him a little more strongly.

He stopped and looked her over. “Down one level, turn left at the stair. You’ll see a tavern called ‘The Lion’. Can’t miss the picture on the sign, though if I were you I would be careful when traveling abroad without someone to guard your person.”

Minuial showed him her daggers with a grateful nod. “I have someone to guard my person.”

The guard shook his head, but offered her a wan smile as he headed on towards his duties. Her path towards the stairs was a quick one after that. Some few wanderers noticed her passage, but none said a word to her. Once on the fifth level she followed the advice of her young friend and found the Lion without a fuss. She entered and approached the bar without hesitation. A large, elderly fellow with a rag stopped his cleaning of the counter and looked her over. “Well, aren’t you a pretty thing? What can I get you?”

Gratified not to have to make an issue of her being here, she sat down and reached into her purse, removing a silver mirian. “Ale, if you please.” She tossed the coin onto the table. “Keep the extra for being kind.”

The barkeep laughed and took it without question, then poured her a generous pint of ale. “The best for the Lady Elf. Don’t see your like in these parts often. Does an old man’s heart good to see one again before I die.”

Taking a long drink, Minuial grinned and replied, “There is another above, if you care to see more. I could fetch him for you.”

Laughing at that, he shook his finger and gave her an insinuating smile. “Now, I don’t think that’s entirely necessary, Miss. We have all the company we need right here.” He picked up a mug and started to wipe the inside out. “You aren’t like the other one.”

Minuial raised her eyebrow. “Oh? You mean the girl that came here before?”

He nodded gravely. “She was a pretty one, as I recall. More gentle than you seem. No offence.”

“None taken.” She took another drink, schooling her features. “What happened to her?”

Quite suddenly his demeanor changed from free and easy to secretive. “Can’t rightly say, Miss.”

“Not even fnothnother mirian? onlyonly worried about preventing the same fate for myself, you understand.”

He wavered at that. “Lady, let’s just say she met a foul end and leave it at that, okay? No one here can know exactly what happened to her. Can’t say I’d tell if I could, either. Just you watch yourself and get that male Elf to follow you around if you be worried about that sort of thing.” He looked up at the door as it opened. “Evening, Captain Faramir.”

Minuial did not turn, but knew instinctively that he would be heading towards her. She wondered if his elder brother was tagging along. “Good evening, Geran. Well, here is a face and form I had not counted on. Greetings, Lady Elf.”

Painting a smile across her lips, she turned finally and looked him over with glittery eyes. “Greetings, Captain. Now that you have seen me, would you have me go?”

The younger son of the Steward laughed and sat down beside her, pleasantly alone. “If I were my brother, indeed I would be so cold as to want such a thing, but I am not. I will drink with an Elf.”

A stranger in the room laughed. “You’d drink with a Dwarf if he were attractive enough!” There was assorted laughter.

Faramir shook his head and ignored them. “Perhaps you would care to find a more civilized place where we can talk in private?”

Tilting her head curiously, she considered it. “Hmm. Perhaps.”

“A walk along the parapet is all I offer, my lady,” he said quickly, noticing her dubious expression. He stood up and held his arm out.

Watching him a moment longer, she drained her ale and then stood up, taking his arm politely. Together the two of them exited the tavern. He smiled softly at her as they moved off away from the public towards the edge of the tier. Minuial bit her bottom lip and looked at him with a gentle expression. “You did not get a drink, my lord.”

Faramir shrugged at that and looked her face over. “I can live without that, my dear lady, if only for a chance to walk with you.”

Minuial laughed and watched as he began petting her hand. “You are quite a bit different than your brother,” she commented.

That drew a sigh from her companion. His fingers on hers stilled. “Boromir is not so bad, really. He is merely cautious and with good reason.”

“Good reason?” she repeated with a small lady-like laugh. She looked at him archly. “And you ignore good reason?”

He nodded with an amused expression. “That could be it, or it could be I am good at reading people. I do not believe you are here to begin a war.”

She widened her eyes, aware of the effect it had on him by the evidence of the intent way he watched her. “Lord Boromir believes I am here to begin a war?”

“He thinks it is possible,” Faramir conceded mildly.

Minuial considered it, then looked Faramir up and down. “What makes you believe different?”

“Intuition, perhaps, or merely foolishness. Perhaps a combination of the two.”

Her full lips curved into a grin. “You are a strange man, Faramir of Gondor.” He awarded her a florid bow and she gazed out across the sky as they approached the parapet. Instinctively, she lowered her voice. “If I ask you something in earnest, will you reply with the truth?”

The young captain of Gondor gave her a weighing look. “I will if I can,” he replied.

They stopped and he came to stand before her, letting go of her arm. His auburn hair moved with the breeze. “Do you think your father will hear of peace between our peoples?”

Faramir pursed his lips and brushed his hair from trailing before his vision. “I would hate to let down such a beautiful lady as yourself, but to be honest, I do not know. He has an opinion of Elves and that colors his opinion on the need for peace.”

Minuial brushed her hair behind her ears and sighed. “Then I should leave.”

“I did not say that,” he said quickly, then gave her a probing look. “I think you should try. There is always a chance, after all.”

She gazed out along the horizon wordlessly after that until his hand met her shoulder. Turning into his curious look quickly, she stared at him with wide, probing eyes until he removed his hand from her. Her pulse was racing and her emotions a little more on edge than she would have liked. Averting her gaze again, she breathed, “I am sorry.”

Faramir shook his head, coming into her field of vision. He exhaled and drew his cloak around his shoulders as a chill breeze sailed over them. “It is I that should apologize. You have no reason to trust me.”

“We have no reason to trust each other,” she amended with a sorrowed look at him. She wondered if he had spoken this way to her predecessor—her sister. Had they shared soft words before what had inevitably happened?

The youngest son of the Steward held out his arm again with a pale expression of friendship. “Well, we have to start somewhere. Shall I show you to dinner?”

Minuial forced an easy smile upon her features. “I would be pleased.”

*

Dinner was a dreadful affair. Boromir sat back after eating only half of his meal. Pushing the plate aside, he instead favored a pint of ale. His father was in a dark humor this night, as expected. Aragorn was the brunt of much of his ire. The Elves were a mere irritant. His head down, those eyes of midnight bore into the Ranger as Aragorn explained rather quickly that the Elves truly desired peace. In another time and place Boromir might have enjoyed watching him squirm beneath his father’s glare, but right now all the elder captain could concentrate on was his exasperating brother, who sat and spoke with the Elves—more particularly the female one. It was happening all over again and Faramir refused to see it.

Grunting, he looked at her from over his mug. She was no bad thing to look at, he reflected, running his eyes along her face. Perhaps it would not go so far this time. She had Haldir to protect her, fortunately for her sake. She need not be harmed.

But she was very beautiful.

Minuial—he recalled her name quickly—noticed his stare. Those hazel eyes of her flashed uncomfortably at his and he thought he detected a trace of…fear was too strong a word. It could not be understanding, for how could she know what things roamed his thoughts? Suspicion, he decided and tried to head it off with a polite raise of his glass. She did not return it, merely looked away from him and he smirked, draining his ale.

“My Lord,” Aragorn was saying, bringing Boromir out of his dark reveries, “it is my thought that with the help of the Elves we stand a chance at actually defeating Sauron, rather than merely containing him.”

Considering his words briefly, Denethor leaned forward and raised his hand to his goblet. “What need have I of Elves? I have the Ring. If they wish my protection, however, I am certain an arrangement can be made.”

Quickly Boromir’s eyes raced to the face of Haldir, searching in amusement and finding what he suspected he would see. The Marchwarden was livid. “Protection? Evil protecting good from evil?”

“You go too far,” Denethor warned darkly. “I would be careful from this point on.”

Haldir tossed his napkin down on the table and leaned against his elbow. His expression was still firm and filled with that arrogance Boromir remembered well. He would not mind seeing his father hang this Elf. “You have the Ring and that makes you weak, Steward of Gondor! If you think Sauron shivers in dread of you and your forces, you are blind and I will not hesitate to say it. Do you not see how his fist closes over every corner of this world?”

“I protect my lands,” the Steward replied, his tone uncompromising. “Perhaps your ng wng was a grave mistake.”

This time it was the woman that responded and Boromir turned his eyes towards her again, taking advantage of having a legitimate reason so he could observe and assess. “I think we are getting off on the wrong foot, Steward. Haldir, please leave the talking to me from now on.”

Interested in how the Marchwarden would respond, Boromir smirked behind his ale and shifted his glance. The Elf’s eyes were hard, but obedient, which surprised the Captain of Gondor. Haldir seemed poised at any given moment to step in with his own views and ideas to the point of rudeness with almost everyone he had ever watched the Elf interact with. This girl, however, won his silence and that gave Boromir a few suspicions. He kept them to himself, however, content to see this night played out. “If that is your wish,” Haldir responded with an angry tone that Minuial paid no heed to.

She looked up at Denethor gravely. “It is your conviction that you can go to war without aid, then? Or do you plan on eradicating the threat of Sauron at all?”

The Steward’s expression eased somewhat and Boromir surmised that she was not going to be taken seriously by his father. Still, he made an effort to reply honestly. “Sauron has been qufor for some time. It is my intent to pursue him when I have the means. Yes, I will eradicate him. On my terms if he persists in waiting. And yes, it is my belief that I can go to war without the aid of your people. What power does he have over me that I cannot sweep aside by turning his power against him?”

Minuial sighed softly, her eyes a mystery. “His power is much more subtle than you imagine. I fear it will be your undoing.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Of course not.” Those around the table had hushed to hear her word on this, to see if there would be cause for action against these intrusive Elves. She shook her head and laid down her fork, having eaten very little of dinner. “My lord, it is no threat I speak against you from my people, but an inevitability if you allow yourself to assume he is afraid of you. He is far older than you. Older than I, even and I have seen many centuries pass. That any of us, Man or Elf, can think we are in control of him for one minute is a deadly mistake. We do not wish the world of Men to fall, else we would wait and watch Sauron destroy you. For thousands of years have my people left you to your own devices. What power could we seek now except the power of peace?”

Denethor raised his chin in thought, but was not one to be caught so easily. “Lady, I do not pretend to understand the motives of your people. Perhaps you do not seek power, but that does nothing to change my view on matters. We have not needed Elves for these thousands of years that you speak of and I do not believe we need them now.” He took a drink and spoke before she had a chance to reply. “If it is our protection you wish, perhaps an accommodation could be reached.”

Boromir held back a snort, wondering what possible accommodation would either party accept. The Elves were too prideful for that and his father’s price would invariably be high. As it was, Minuial seemed weary and troubled, but generally unsurprised by the outcome of the first night’s talks. “Perhaps,” she agreed, but her eyes betrayed that she did not truly agree. It was a concession for now.

“It is late,” his fr anr announced, setting his cup down. He rose from the table and nodded a short, wordless goodnight, then departed their presence without any further concern about the Elves. He wouldn’t care, of course. If they left Minas Tirith tonight it would be one less bother for him to deal with in the morning.

Haldir and Minuial exchanged glances, but not words. Grunting, Boromir swished the remaining contents of his glass around. That probably meant they would persist.

A hand rested suddenly on her shoulder and Boromir followed it to the face of his brother. Right now Faramir was undoubtedly making apologies for their father. He was such a damn softy, the elder reflected sourly. Personally, he didn’t care what the Elves thought of how they had been treated. Still, he watched. Minuial seemed disappointed, but nodded her acceptance of the situation. She even smiled at his brother’s charms. Boromir rolled his eyes.

Quite suddenly her eyes slid to him and the Captain of Gondor did not avert his gaze. He raised his eyebrow in question and she smiled that damned enigmatic way Elves would. He tilted his chin up, continued watching her and frowned when she smirked, then looked back at his brother. Sighing, Boromir stood up and set his mug down, then approached. “Excuse me,” he interrupted rudely, knowing it was rude and not caring, “but I must also retire. After you finish here I would like a word with you, Faramir.”

Faramir gave him a look, then nodded. “Certainly. I will find you…”

“In my rooms.” Boromir gave a polite look to Minuial, a frown at Haldir, then turned on his heel and stalked out. He wondered just how long it would take his brother to reach his quarters tonight.

*

“I would rather see you to your quarters myself.” Haldir crossed his arms and appeared very resolute. Minuial glared coldly at him, but he did not seem pliable.

Drawing him aside forcefully, Minuial hissew, “w, “Do not interfere with my choices, Marchwarden. Would you be so rude to our host?”

The Marchwarden raised an eyebrow sarcastically. “Our host? You seem to think this is a tea party or something. Minuial, I’ll not let you come to any harm…”

“Then shut up and leave me alone,” she retorted, putting her hand on his shoulder when he gripped her arm. She shoved him away, only to have him return full force. Haldir took both of her arms this time and pulled her close to him. “Stop this!” She pushed again to no avail. “Haldir, leave me alone!”

Coming to stand behind him, Faramir tapped the Elf on the shoulder. “I believe the lady said to leave her alone.”

“Do not interfere, mortal,” Haldir hissed, yanking her into him. The force pulled one of her sleeves down her shoulder, exposing her flesh.

“No!” Minuial growled, aware of the eyes on them. She pulled away from him and at that moment Faramir insinuated himself between them, blocking Haldir’s attempts.

The young captain crossed his arms. “I’ll not watch a lady be handled in such a way, even if it his by her own kind. I suggest you retreat to your room for the night. I will protect her from harm.”

Glaring between them, Haldir finally looked over Faramir’s shoulder, pointing at Minuial. “We will discuss this later, Minuial. I promise you that.”

Breathing heavily from the struggle, she held her arms crossed over her chest, one hand clutching at the fallen fabric, but not pulling it up. “Please, just go,” she whispered softly, fearfully.

Turning on his heel, he did just that, stalking like a storm cloud from the banquet hall. The mortal watched until he was gone, then turned to her with a concerned expression. “Are you hurt?” he asked gently, taking her sleeve and pulling it back up her shoulder for her. He brushed her mussed hair back and looked into her luminous eyes.

Minuial shook her head, appearing shaken. “I am unhurt. Do not worry for me. He is…forceful.” She averted her eyes.

“Is this the way of Elves?” Faramir asked incredulously. His hands wrapped around her arms in a comforting gesture, thumbs tracing her skin.

She looked up and nodded. “It was not always so, but the shadow upon the land has changed my people.”

The human frowned, looking at the doorway again as if the Marchwarden would be waiting just outside it. He exhaled finally and let her go, holding his arm out. “Would you like me to have a private word with him?”

Minuial laughed at that and took the extended arm, following him out. Haldir was nowhere to be seen. “No. It would not change his intentions towards me.”

Looking ahead, Faramir pursed his lips and nodded. “But there must be something I can do.”

Impulsively touching his hand softly, stroking her fingers along his, the Elf smiled up at him. “You have been very kind to me. That is all you need do.” He returned her expression and continued leading her. They both remained silent for quite a while, during which she wondered curiously what he was thinking.

When they came to her doorway, he turned to face her, his sea-colored eyes trailing over her. “Are you sure you will be all right? He seemed very angry.”

Putting her hand on his shoulder, she rubbed absently. “I’ll…I’ll be all right. Faramir…”

“Yes?” he said a little softer, looking a little uncertain with this situation.

She painted a smile across her lips. “You have treated me well. Thank you.” Leaning forward, she placed her mouth against the side of his in a gesture of gratitude.

Faramir looked down on her with a knit brow, smoothing his fingertips along her hairline. “Why would you do a thing like that?” he asked sternly.

Minuial widened her eyes. “To thank you, of course. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He drew her closer instead of letting her go. “I’m not sure what I should think about you, Lady Elf. You are a puzzle.”

“If gratitude for kindness makes you suspicious, I shall show no more,” she replied stiffly, her eyes cold. She pulled back, only to be held closer. Her pulse began to race.

Then he smiled and let her fall back, bringing his hand to her hair. “I am sorry. My brother said something that troubled me. I should not allow his silly opinions to cloud my manners.” He sighed, letting his eyes make a trail up and down her form. “Forgive me my sin?” She nodded uncertainly and his lips spread into a grin. “May I express my own gratitude?”

Her eyes widened and without warning, he embraced her, pressing his mouth along hers, but not invading just yet. When he let go she felt herself blush at his chuckle. “Why did you do that?” she asked him suspiciously.

He shrugged, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. “You look beautiful when you are surprised. And I find myself very enchanted by you.”

For a moment she stared, then laughed. “You are also a puzzle, Faramir.”

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, smiling at her confusion. “Perhaps we could solve the riddles over dinner tomorrow night. Is that too forward?”

“What would your father say?” she asked archly.

Faramir shook his head. “What do I care what my father says? He and I have had separate opinions for quite some time.” He exhaled and took her hand, touching it gently. “I mean no harm, truly. If you are uncomfortable, however, I understand. I did not mean to frighten you, but I think we both have suspicions to overcome if we’re to be friends.”

“Perhaps we do, Faramir of Gondor. Perhaps we do. I would not be opposed to dinner tomorrow night.”

He nodded once, letting her hand go. “Then it is settled. Dinner at dusk in my quarters, if that pleases you. And we will make a rule. No politics. The The corners of her lips tilted into a half-smile. “Agreed. Sleep well.”

“You as well, my lady.” He bowed, then departed.

Straightening herself up, Minuial grasped the handle to her door and opened it, slipping inside quietly. There were a few candles lit and when she turned Haldir’s form was visible, waiting for her. He sat on her bed, his arms crossed and his expression dark. “How did he treat you?”

Minuial rolled her eyes and entered, working her braids out. Tossing a tie onto the vanity, she replied, “He was a gentleman.”

Haldir frowned and stood up, approaching her. “He is fortunate, then. Did anything of note happen?”

“No.” She took a nightgown provided by her host from her closet and held it up to her before the mirror. The pale blue complimented her skin nicely. Haldir gazed from behind her, his expression grave. “We’re to have dinner tomorrow night.”

“Dinner? That could prove dangerous.” He stretched his hand forth, touching the back of her hair. “I trust he was protective over you after I left? Or did he seem indifferent?”

The question made her smile. She turned and looked him over thoughtfully. “Does it matter how he acted?”

Haldir was not impressed. “It matters. It will help me predict his next course of action.”

Minuial’s laugh was like silvery bells. He smirked at her. “He was protective. Very protective, in fact. What does that tell you?” Her companion’s expression was puzzled slightly.

“Hmm. I would still be cautious. It may not matter. Who can predict the ways of Men?”

She persisted in teasing the Marchwarden, considering it payback for his boorish behavior. “Are you afraid he might manhandle me?” she asked demurely.

Responding in kind, Haldir grabbed for her arms and pulled her close. “If he does I will rip his insides out.” He brought her very close to his mouth. “But I cannot say I won’t understand why he would.” Snaking his fingers into her hair, he brought her close and ran his tongue along her ear, then whispered, “I enjoyed it greatly.”

Putting her hands on his shoulders, Minuial moved her mouth very near his and replied just as gently, “Would you lower yourself to the level of Men, forcing yourself upon me?”

The Marchwarden growled at that and stepped back. “Curse it all, Minuial, you know me better than that.” He glared at her laughter. “You needn’t insult me. If that is the way of things then kindly leave me out of your little games with the Captains of Gondor.”

Turning her back towards him and removing her shirt, Minuial sighed and shook her head. “I was only playing, Haldir. Besides, our little game is working. If indeed he does not mean to take advantage of my ‘helplessness’, then perhaps I can use it to cultivate other emotions. He will tell me what I wish to know, one way or another, whether he realizes it or not.”

Haldir exhaled loudly, dissatisfied with the situation. But there was nothing else they could do. Nothing else she could use but her charms. “How far will you let things go?” he asked her quietly.

Her gown falling over her features in a silken cascade, she turned towards him with steel in her eyes. “If he attempts to rape me, I will kill him. Then we will have to make our move. If not, then we’ll see where my mood takes me.” She smirked at his unhappy frown. “I will use what I must to learn where the Ring is, Haldir. You know this.”

“Yes,” he agreed harshly, stalking towards his door. “It only pains me to see how far Elves must fall. There was a time when Elves mated with one partner and that companion they called spouse.”

As he jerked the door open, Minuial breathed, “Those times are gone.” He slammed the door shut.

Sighing, she padded to each candle, blowing them out one by one until at last she was left alone in the dark. Crawling across her bed, she forgot Haldir and the Ring, seeking instead a moment of peace.