Masks

Sandra - Hehehehe...the snakes were very strategically placed for maximum freak factor. Thanks for dropping me the note! Happy New Year! Hope your trip is going well! :D

Freya - ;) Poor Faramir...dear sweet Faramir. He could be in for some trouble. Forgot to mention the timeline...sorry. It's before Boromir set off for Rivendell. Don't remember how it was in the books, but let's say after Osgiliath, before his Rivendell departure. :) Thanks!

*

Alura admired her reflection as scarlet material was wrapped around her midsection. A seamstress with a tight bun and needles sticking out of her mouth measured her waistline, then adjusted the fabric and knit her brow in thought. Nearby Éowyn was watching with a smirk on her face. “It’s really a lovely fabric,” she commented as one of the handmaidens jerked it tighter.

Shaking her head, Alura frowned at her cousin and looked again into the mirror. It was beautiful, she couldn’t argue with that. Her eyes roamed to a table where other fabrics had been laid out. There were bolts of scarlet lace, gold threads for decorative stitching, and the beginnings of a blood red mask with black and gold trimming and feathers dyed black hanging from each side of her face. She was beginning to actually look forward to dressing in these fine things, but she could have done without the intense fitting. They were dressing her down to even giving her black undergarments for the occasion. “I like it,” she commented after another moment of scrutiny.

“Perhaps Faramir will like it as well,” the blond suggested coyly.

Alura turned her head towards her, moving enough to make the seamstress give her a severe look. “What do you mean by that?” she practically hissed.

Éowyn widened her eyes in mock innocence. “Really, Alura. Nothing. I just thought perhaps…”

She gave the blond a cool look and turned back towards the mirror. “Don’t push me, Éowyn. You know I don’t like that.”

“You’re so sensitive,” Éowyn accused, shaking her head.

At that moment a young maiden came in from a back room. “Lady Éowyn, I need you to come and try on something, please,” she said meekly.

The blond gave her cousin a look as she followed the young girl into the back. Alura frowned at her, but the look was lost in her passage behind a curtain. She shook her head and looked down as the fabric was carefully peeled from her body. The seamstress motioned her remaining apprentice on to the table with her, leaving Alura standing on the step stool in nothing but her panties. Cold, she wrapped her arms around herself and made to step down, when the seamstress said without turning around, “Stay put, Lady Alura.”

Rolling her eyes, she got back up and shivered, looking herself over in the mirror. The room was dim, but light began to filter in as the door near the front opened. Alura watched, expecting another maiden to enter, and was surprised when it was not only a male, but Boromir himself. He entered and stopped behind her, staring at her nude back and lace covered behind. “Well, you don’t get treated to something like this every day. Is Éowyn being fitted as well?”

Alura gave him a dirty look, making sure her arms were securely covering her breasts. “She happens to be in the back room.”

“Where you are not welcome to go,” the seamstress added with a scathing look at the Captain. She waved her arms in a shooing manner.

“I need a word with my betrothed, if you don’t mind,” he retorted gruffly. His stormy eyes slid to Alura, however, making her feel intensely uncomfortable. “Will she be through soon?”

“I do not know and I do not care. This is the ladies’ tailory, not the men’s. I suggest you go and sit outside,” the seamstress replied hotly. Alura was surprised the old woman would take such a tone with him.

Boromir did not seem as surprised, however. He frowned darkly, but obeyed, but not without looking at Alura again. “My compliments on your underwear,” he offered, laughing as the seamstress all but shoved him out the door.

Alura felt her cheeks go hot and looked to fine a rosy red blush settling on her features. She shook her head at his audacity. Had he no shame? True, he did not know Éowyn and could not be in love just yet, but he was going to marry her. At least he could try to act like a civilized man. She looked down as the seamstress took a measurement of her arm. “Are then men of Gondor normally so forward toward women even when they are married?”

The old woman rolled her eyes. “Think nothing of it, Lady Alura. Boromir knows how to get under the skin of others and takes pleasure in it. It does not go beyond that, I am certain.”

Despite that, however, Alura didn’t feel as certain as all that, but decided to try and understand it from that point of view. Perhaps he was just flirty. He had asked after Éowyn with the same leering intent, after all. She looked up as Éowyn entered the room again, dressed in the beginnings of a lovely dress the color of the sparkling sapphires. “What do you think?” she asked, giving a turn. There was silver stitching along the cuffs that shone brightly against the dark blue.

Alura smiled, thinking her cousin had never looked so beautiful. Still, she smirked and replied, “Better once the mask is on.”

Rolling her eyes, Éowyn waved her had dismissively. “You’re impossible! Did I hear Boromir a moment ago?”

“Yeah,” Alura replied dryly with a flat look.

The blond raised her eyebrow. “And he saw you like that?”

The disproval was aimed at her, so Alura answered smartly, “No, I had my arms down and shook my chest in his face.”

Cocking her head, Éowyn sighed softly. “As long as he was not frightened I suppose there was no harm done.”

Alura wasn’t sure why that phrase made her uncomfortable, but she dismissed it and rolled her eyes, stepping down when the seamstress gave her a nudge off the edge. She accepted her dress gratefully. “That reminds me. Do you have a snake?” she muttered, slipping into it.

“A what?” Éowyn knit her brow in confusion.

Alura pursed her lips and shook her head. “Never mind. Boromir wants a word with you, but the seamstress wouldn’t let him go back with you. Apparently he’s welcome to ogle my unfortunate state, but not yours.” She shot the old woman a glare that she hadn’t meant her to see and was met with a frown. Alura blinked and tore her eyes away.

Éowyn looked her over with a subdued curiosity. “Did he ogle you?” she asked softly.

Not wanting her cousin to worry over what could be nothing, she shook her head. “No, he made a snide remark actually. But it’s the principle of the matter.”

“Don’t be sensitive,” the blond said, messing her hair up and heading towards the back room. “If you see him, tell him I will be done in an hour.”

“Sensitive,” Alura mocked, fixing her hair back. She frowned and stormed towards the exit.

Pushing the door open, she winced in the sunlight and in her half-blinded state, almost ran right into Boromir. He had been standing there waiting for Éowyn, it seemed. He looked her up and down. “Well, at least you’re properly dressed.”

“You’re a disgusting pig,” she replied with a smile, then brushed past him.

He stopped her with a hand wrapped around her arm. “Are you angry with me?” he asked with a smirk.

Alura shoved his hand back and shook her head. “No. I just think you’re a disgusting pig.”

“Would it make you feel better if I showed you what was under my clothes?” The idea amused him, for he grinned.

She groaned and shook her head. “You aren’t exactly concerned what Éowyn would think of your…words.”

Boromir cocked his head and shrugged. “You should know I am only kidding. Tell me it doesn’t work. Tell me you’re not all hot and bothered beneath those skirts.”

Another blush, lighter this time, graced her features as she glared at him. “You’re a pig.”

He raised his eyebrows. “So you’ve said.”

“And I mean it.”

“So?”

Alura narrowed her eyes to slits, then wrung her hands in frustration. “So why are we even having this conversation?”

His laugh irritated her. “I have no idea. Is Éowyn nearly through in there?”

“No, as a matter of fact, she’s not,” she answered coldly. “She’ll be another hour. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“If Éowyn is going to be longer, I may as well entertain myself until that old bat lets her leave.” He sidled up to Alura’s right, smirking at her glare. “I find your reactions very entertaining,” he explained. She was reminded of what the seamstress said. That he only did these things to get under her skin. Maybe if she made an effort to lay his own efforts to waste. She wondered what he would think then.

She gave him a mild look, then shrugged. “Fine, then. So, where shall we go?”

Boromir bit the inside of his cheek and kicked a stone from his path. “Have you no destination?”

“Not really.”

He seemed to consider her then, moving his sea-colored gaze across her face thoughtfully. “You like horses,” he said finally.

“I like horses. I’m from Rohan, so of course I must like horses. You like drinking yourself under the table?” she asked him flatly.

Shaking his head, he crossed his arms before him. “I did not mean to offend her majesty. I was merely going to offer to take you to the stables so you could see our horses.”

“Why would I want to see your horses when I can see real ones at home?” Her counter struck home.

Boromir glared at her coolly. “I may be a pig, but you, Lady of Rohan, are a bitch.”

Alura stopped and turned on him with an equally cold expression. “You began this little war and now when faced with a little challenge this is how the mighty heir to Gondor’s rule reacts? Can you not take some of your own?” she asked him with a tilt of her chin.

He came closer to her, invading her space with an arrogant smirk written across his features. His blue eyes glittered in the noonday sun. “So it is a challenge you want, is it? Are you sure you are up to it, Lady?”

She pressed her hand against his shoulder, trying not to take a step backwards even as he kept pressing forward in an intimidating way. He was too strong and she ended up falling back. “What challenge is there against an arrogant Lord of Gondor?”

“Haven’t you heard? We’re barbarians and power mad. Liable to do anything to a frightened little girl.” His hands slipped around her arms as he backed her on towards the edge of the wall. When she felt it hit her legs, she stumbled, but he held her up. “Still want to challenge me?”

Her eyes narrowed to slits as she stared into his hard expression, but contrary to his wishes she did not cower in fear. Meeting his challenge, she pushed herself against him to keep balance against his urge towards the railing. “Again I ask, what challenge is there against you?”

His eyes left hers, wandering down her face to the closed space between them. She could feel his chest moving with every breath and had no doubt he could feel the same. Boromir’s hands tightened around her arms for a second before he jerked his eyes up to hers. “I’ll not commit to something improper with you, cousin of my bride.”

“Improper?” she repeated, wondering what was on his mind. “What do you imply?”

The Gondorian shook his head and stepped back, letting her go. He ran his hand through his hair and let his eyes roam her up and down. “How am I to make peace with her if I have your ire. You would turn my challenge against me if you took offense and report my actions to her with intentions that are not mine. I’ll not win her ire before we are wed.”

“You will wait until afterwards to reveal your true self?” she asked him.

His eyes flashed angrily. “Even now you turn my words against me. What grows within the breast of a woman that compels her to twist the words of men into evils they do not commit?”

Alura opened her mouth, but said nothing. She had no retort to that. Moving to the railing, watching the townsfolk below go about their daily business, she said, “I am sorry. I did not mean to offend you.”

To her surprise, Boromir broke into a laugh that made her turn and regard him with a puzzled look. He cocked his head smartly and smoothed a lock of her hair back behind her shoulder. “You do not contend well.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, pulling herself away with a knit brow.

His smile endured despite her expression. “You are too sensitive. If you truly wished to challenge my arrogance, you should not have taken pity on me. You should have cut me down with your mighty words.”

A thrill of anger passed through her as she gazed at his amusement. “You son of a bitch,” she said shortly, then turned and began to stomp off. He laughed at her going and made a mocking bow when she turned to give him an angry look. Determined to ignore him from this point hence, Alura folded her arms and headed towards the nearest entrance into the Citadel.

It wasn’t until she was nearly there that she saw Faramir walking from it. “Have you been quarreling with Boromir?” he asked.

She glared up at him. “Your brother is an ass.”

“Inevitably and unchangeably,” he sighed and opened the door for her. “I apologize for him.”

“Don’t bother,” she grunted and swept inside. She stopped and offered him an apologetic look. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll put a snake in his armoire for you,” he offered with a soft smile.

Alura laughed lightly and nodded. “You do that.”

“Are we still on for dinner?” he threw in before she could escape.

She felt a flush creep across her features. “I wasn’t aware we made definite plans.” Her eyes followed him as he leaned against the threshold.

“You are quite right, of course. So I think we should remedy that soon.”

“Yeah,” she said, taking a step back, “soon.”

Faramir laughed at her obvious retreat. “You will make me chase you, then?”

His bold intent made her blush. “Should it be any different, Lord Faramir? What would you think if I gave in?”

“That I had a chance?” he teased with a small laugh. He pushed himself from the door and bowed. Behind him Alura saw Boromir smirking. He nudged his brother off balance, causing him to stumble forward.

“Perhaps she does not wish to lead you on,” he suggested, grinning as his brother arose with a hot glare.

Alura brushed Faramir’s tunic off even though there was no dust on it. “Perhaps I find Faramir’s company pleasant, but I fear having to endure yours at dinner!”

Boromir covered his heart in mock pain. “You wound me, Lady Alura.”

“Shut up, Boromir,” the younger hissed, glaring at the elder. “You shame yourself whenever you speak.”

Shaking his head, Boromir sighed and passed them both. “That may be. I will therefore go and shame someone else with my presence.”

Alura clenched her fists, watching him go, then turned into Faramir’s appraising gaze. “If you let him bother you, he’ll keep trying, you know.”

“So I’ve heard,” she retorted, shaking her head. “Is he always like that?”

“Not always. He always acts up in front of strangers.” They shared a smirk and she could tell by his expression he was heading towards his question from before. She was not proven wrong. “Have you decided on giving me your favor, great Lady of Rohan?”

She felt tense at his intense gaze, uncertain as to whether her emotions were telling her to accept or decline. Without knowing it she found herself twisting her skirts in her hands as she made a quick choice. “I will dine with you.” His returning smile made her feel strangely compelled inside, but to what she could not tell. She liked him, wanted to like him even more, but it was as if something was holding her back. Was it fear that he was really no different than Boromir, or worry over some other small stumbling block?

Faramir bowed his head, his hair falling beside his fair face as he came closer and brushed his fingers along her cheek gently. “Alone with me? In my quarters?”

“My Lord, I…” she began softly, surprised at his boldness.

He looked up with a half-smile. “I intend nothing more than dinner, I assure you. I merely thought you would prefer not to have my brother trying to annoy us as we got to know one another. I love him dearly and there are reasons to love him, I assure you. But sometimes I would rather he remain unseen.”

Alura allowed herself a laugh at that and nodded, seeing the logic in that. The thought of Boromir leering over the table at them while they talked was not a pleasant one. “Alone is fine. Preferable, perhaps.”

“Perhaps?” He raised his eyebrow. In this banter she could see how alike he was to Boromir, except that he was civil about it.

“Don’t push me, Lord of Gondor.” She cocked her head with a smirk. “I will make my judgment after we have had our dinner.”

Faramir laughed at that. “I shall endeavor to win your favor then. Farewell, Alura. Until we meet again.”

“Show off,” she accused as he began away. She sighed as she began the down the opposite path towards her quarters.

*