Masks

So soon! *gasp* ;)

Sandra - Thank you...I'm glad you like my dialogs. :) Sarcasm and wit are never far from my mind, even when not writing. ;) I'm glad you can appreciate my attempts at humor. :O ;) Yes...we can't have a good Denethor without him carrying a plot or two, now can we? :D

Freya - Thanks! hehehe..yes...Boromir in any form is gooooood entertainment. ;) Hehehehe...gay. It hadn't occured to me to do that...*considers it* :O ;) No...I just chalk Boromir's aloofness down to cold feet. ;) Her hair is dark brown...sorry. Raven is a habit I picked up from Elrond's hair, and when I picture Elrond it's of course the beautiful Hugo and his chestnut hair. ;) *sigh* Bad habit, I know. But...there could be a pale raven out there, right? Whose feathers are on the dark brown side? ;D

*

Pleasantly unaware, blissfully asleep was Alura in the early stages of the morning. Warmth surrounded her, trapped within the blankets above her, keeping her bound in this realm of glory until a loud knock roused her. Alura opened her eyes and glared at the wall, then again closed her eyes as the door opened. Light streamed in from the door and she covered her face from it. “Still in bed?” Éowyn sighed, entering and shutting the door behind her. Alura listened as her soft shoe padded feet made a path towards the window nearby. With a great tug the drapes were pulled open, allowing in the sun.

“Faramir came to me last night,” Alura moaned breathlessly, tiredly, then laughed at Éowyn’s startled expression.

“Oh, you,” Éowyn groaned, grabbing the blanket and jerking it off. “I shouldn’t hope for such a thing.”

Sitting up, the dark-headed girl nodded and stretched. “You’re right. You shouldn’t.”

“And if I cannot live wild tales through your experience, how else?” the princess sighed, pulling the wardrobe open and selecting a dress.

Standing up, Alura shook her head and moved her cousin, selecting her own clothing. “I am certain very soon you will bore me with the disgusting details of your own torrid affairs with…it.”

The blond laughed at that and sank down on the mattress. “Go on now. Get dressed. We are being waited for!”

“All right,” the younger sighed, stomping off towards the washroom to change. She donned now a dress of russet and admired herself in the mirror, then combed her long dark hair before departing into the main bedroom where Éowyn waited with an impatient expression. “Ready. There better be a good breakfast very soon.”

“Right,” Éowyn said, pulling her along.

They walked briskly through the halls, intent on their destination, stopping only to round a corner where they ran across Faramir. He smiled at them both with twinkling eyes and said, “And what mischief are you two about this early?”

“We’re to be fitted into our dresses,” Éowyn said with a smile and a perhaps unconscious glance at Alura, who gave her a scathing frown. “Perhaps you would care to observe and give us your opinion?”

“Lord Faramir is very busy, I am sure,” Alura insisted in a firm tone. “He has things he has to do.”

The captain grinned at her words. “What things have I do to that should hold me back from your want of my presence?” he asked, trying to trap her.

She narrowed her eyes at that and pulled at Éowyn’s wrist. “Lordly things like getting drunk, I’m certain.”

Faramir laughed at that and shook his head. “But the hour for that does not come for some time, I am afraid.”

“How terribly unfortunate for you.”

“Cousin, really,” Éowyn chided with a shake of her head. “You shock me.”

“I don’t see how. You’ve known me for years,” Alura replied tartly.

Grinning broadly, Faramir shook his head at the pair of them. “There is one in every family.” He stepped nearer to Alura and let his eyes roam her irritated expression. “Have no worry. My father has called me to him. I shall carry the want of seeing your costume with me until the party, where you may reveal it and astound me.”

“Ugh,” she groaned, winning his laugh. He smirked and began again on his path. Alura turned into Éowyn’s rueful look. “Say nothing at all. He pursues me shamelessly like a common street harlot.”

The blond laughed at that and dragged her along. “And you love every moment of it, too, I’d wager.”

“What I would love is if you and he would both let it lie.” She shoved at her cousin’s arm playfully. “You pursue him.”

Éowyn awarded her a dirty look as she pulled her outside into the cool air. They rushed on and came to the tailory where both women were fitted at the same time. Alura was not thrilled with facing the seamstress again, but it took considerably less time for her than her cousin. When it was done she was dismissed and told Éowyn would be along later. Crossing her arms, Alura left irritably and sought after some breakfast, feeling leftover tiredness drag her mood down. She was grateful when she entered the main part of the citadel and was intent on not going out into the cold for a long time if she could possibly help it.

The main dining hall was just about empty now. The officials of Minas Tirith kept a regular schedule of meals, she had learned, and the common folk did not wander into the king’s halls. It was not, however, completely bare. Alura looked and saw red hair near the fireplace. The clothes had changed, so she gathered it was Boromir. Curiosity moved her towards him. He turned to go somewhere and stopped short upon seeing her, his eyes alight in interest. “If you are looking for Faramir…” he began.

Alura waved her arm and cut him off. “I’m not. Have you had breakfast?”

His eyebrow went up. “I am waiting for the cook to finish my meal. Shall I ask that it be made into two?” She nodded and he grunted, then motioned a servant to his side, gave the order, then turned to Alura. “Come and sit, then,” he said, pointing to a table nearby. They went to it and sat down, he at the end and she at his left. Boromir folded his arms before him and eyed her. “Is this a social call?”

“More of a call of curiosity.” She took a goblet that was set before her and looked inside, seeing a blush colored wine inside. It smelled soft and fruity. She took a drink.

For a few moments he appeared to be expecting her to continue, but his impatience won out finally. “To what do I owe this curiosity call?”

A napkin was spread along her lap. She watched as one found its way along his. “I was mostly just wondering what you thought of this marriage.”

He cocked his head and surveyed her critically, as if trying to figure out what it was she might be getting at. Finally, taking a good, healthy drink, he said, “I think it is a fine idea. I much look forward to it.”

His words seemed too rehearsed to be taken literally. Alura shook her head and took another drink. “Okay, now tell me what you really think.”

“Why?” he asked coolly.

She narrowed her eyes. “Because I’ll not be content to watch my cousin marry a man that hates her. That’s why.”

Boromir’s expression relaxed at that and he sighed. “I do not hate her. I do not know her.”

“Are you attracted to her?” Her point blank question made him frown.

“I think she is fair.” He leaned back as a plate was produced and laid before him. “I think we should let this matter drop. The marriage is going to happen, regardless. Father won’t have it any other way and from what I hear, neither will King Théoden.”

Alura could tell by his firm tone that he was not going to answer any differently. She guessed he was trying to be polite about his doubts. At least that was something, anyway. She did not like this, but liked even less the idea of him being a rough, uncaring husband. She started on the fruit before her and they ate in silence for a short time until she finally said, “What did your father say that troubled you so?”

He stopped his fork midair and stared at her. Deciding she did not know anymore than she let on, he shrugged. “My father is not an easy man to get along with.”

He seemed to think that explained enough, for he said no more. Alura sighed and waited until after their meal to ask him again. They spoke of little things, Éomer and his contest with Boromir. Alura smirked and held her goblet close by. “Faramir says my cousin put a snake in your room.”

The Captain of Gondor glared at the unseen heir to Rohan’s throne. “Several snakes. In my bed, my wardrobe, my boot. He can be a cold, conniving bastard.” He did not apologize for his remarks.

She took no offense and even laughed. “Éomer has an unusual sense of humor.”

“Oh no, my lady, you are wrong. It is very usual in these parts. Which is why my men seem to like him.” He rolled his eyes. “He quite won them away from me the other evening over drinks.”

“They like seeing their captain taken down a few pegs?” she surmised with a grin.

Boromir gave her a firm look. “You are sharp tongued and bold.”

She smirked over her goblet, then set it down and placed her napkin on the table. “No more so than you.”

He pushed his chair back and watched her rise, then motioned her off to a sitting room across the way. It was warm, bathed in the heat of another hearth lit on fire. Alura took a seat before it on a couch as he poured more drinks and brought them over. Sitting back, he drank deeply and then said, “You’re halfway pleasant when you’re not being tiresomely difficult.”

“I was thinking much the same thing until you opened your mouth just now,” she replied with a smirk.

“And shall we continue the contest, Lady Alura?” he asked with a measuring look.

She sipped her wine, then set it down. “Oh, please do not hurt me, you big frightening Gondorian.” Alura laughed at his cool look.

“Yes, you laugh, Lady of Rohan.” He set his own wine down. “I may not take a knife to you, but I won’t hesitate to take my hand to you if you earn it.”

“Is that what you would do to Éowyn?” Alura asked him neutrally. She was sure he wouldn’t, but even jests like that made her wonder at his honor.

Boromir glared at her openly and pointed a finger in her face. “Éowyn is not like you. She is a good lady. You, however, require taming.”

“And are you going to do that?” she challenged him with firm eyes. “Is that how you are? Tame females that don’t cooperate? Éowyn is no tame, timid little thing, no matter how polite.”

“No, she isn’t,” Boromir agreed, his expression hard. “But she is a lady. You are an unruly little brat.”

Alura balled her hands at his harsh tone more than his words. He could be pleasant, but this side of him drove her wild with anger. “Perhaps I am. What will you do? Will you raise your hand as you so flippantly threatened?” She tested him, she knew. Éowyn would never push him to his limits with so little purpose behind it, but he inspired her irritation to flourish so much so she could not help but spar with her words with him.

Suddenly his hands darted out, circling her arms as he jerked her up to him. “Is that what you want? You wish me to hit you so you can report to Éowyn what an evil man she weds?”

“I merely wish to see how far you would lower yourself. Is it as low as I believe?” she retorted and regretted it when his eyes widened in anger. She entertained that he would hit her now. His eyes burned, glaring into her face as his fingers tightened around her arms. Was he testing her? Seeing if she would cry out? She recalled his trick before and resolved to meet his challenge head on, but could not help but squirm at the pain his grip caused.

And suddenly everything changed. Alura’s eyes widened when his mouth covered hers, parting her lips to seek entrance. Startled, she gave in and gave her voice to his actions when his tongue pressed against her own. She held herself tense as his arms surrounded hers. His mouth was like berries clinging to the bite of alcohol and fervor. Unconsciously her arms moved along his sides to surround his waist. When she noticed what she was doing, she felt appalled, but couldn’t bring herself to stop him from plundering her mouth. His passion had her senses reeling in shock. And in pleasure as well. Her hands tightened along his surcoat as he lapped the warmth of her mouth, not giving her leave to draw a breath.

It seemed a terrible count of minutes before he pulled away breathlessly, but it did not end there. Watching her eyes carefully, Boromir pressed himself along her form, easing her back against the large arm of the couch. “Speak against my touch, lady,” he said in a husky tone as he smoothed his hand across her cheek. It was another challenge. Alura’s eyes fluttered as she felt him draw her skirts slowly up her legs. He gave her little leave to speak, moving to take her lips again. She could not repress a moan as his tongue darted along her own. Neither could she stop him. A dim voice in her thoughts urged her to end it, to stop him, but neither her voice nor her body would cooperate. A part of her swam in the pleasure of that. Never before had she felt herself drawn into such blissful tension.

Bending her knees and allowing her thighs to be parted, Alura closed her eyes as her skirt pooled along her belly. The sound of Boromir’s hands hard at work at the leather belt at his waist filled her with conflicting emotions. The wine clouded her thoughts, obscuring her choice between right and want. As Boromir leaned into her she knew it was too late, even if she could have brought the words to her lips. He tilted her hips up and plunged forward, sinking his length into her moistened warmth.

Alura leaned heavily against the arm of the couch while hugging her legs against his hips. One of her shoes fell to the floor, leaving her leg clad in nothing but a long white stocking. She soon kicked the other off in irritation and gave up on the last bit of thought to stop this. It was happening. Nothing could take it back now. She moaned out as he shoved himself into her body hard, causing her to shiver in pain and pleasure. His dark eyes watched her face as one of his hands reached for hers. Shivering, she could only gaze as he slipped her hand between them and pressed her fingertips along her nub. Her back arched as he pressed her fingers down further, then smoothed them up in tandem with his thrusts.

He guided her in rubbing herself, taking visible pleasure out of it. His face was pleasantly flushed, eyes drawn to her body and sweat beading at his brow. When her legs tensed around him, he took his hand away and smoothed it up along her clothed breast, then jerked the ribbons there until the gown was loosened. Alura bit her lip when his hand bared her breast and molded her supple flesh. He pinched her pink peak rhythmically and traced circles around it, teasing her to hardness before he bent his head down and kissed her there. Alura arched, accommodating him as he sucked fervently.

His hand trailed below again, seeing to it that she remained at her task of pleasuring herself and a thrill of pleasure pulsed through her when he forced her fingers to rub harder. She found herself falling away unstoppably. He kissed up along her throat and groaned huskily in her ear as she came to the edge. One great thrust of his hips made her throw her head back and moan. Boromir braced himself along the arm of the couch and continued shoving up into her until he had his pleasure, then fell to his forearms against the arm on either side of her head.

Long moments passed and neither spoke. Boromir finally brought himself up, closed his pants and got up from the couch, running his hands through his hair. Alura watched him pace as she straightened her clothes. His eyes betrayed him to be as troubled as she felt. He stopped when she had her shoes on and gazed down. “What will you say to her?” he asked simply.

Alura straightened her hair and exhaled a shaky little breath. Standing up, she shook her head and paced with her hand on her hip. “I will say nothing. Neither of us must say anything,” she concluded uncertainly, looking up into his face. “This didn’t…”

He frowned at her. “Of course it did. Do you think our feelings will just die?”

“What feelings?” she hissed, too bothered and afraid to even consider there were feelings involved.

His eyes hardened and stared at her. “What feelings? No, I suppose there are none.” Crossing his arms, he looked at the door, then her again. “You have things to do, I am certain.”

Alura stared at him a moment longer, then nodded, deciding that was for the best. She hoped it was. Her stomach clenched in worry as she began for the doorway. Once there she stopped and turned. Boromir stood at the fire, hand against the mantle as he gazed not at the flames, but at her. He looked doubtful and bewildered. She dismissed any thoughts he had planned this.

Closing her eyes, she forced herself from the room and stepped back into the dining hall. When she saw that familiar red hair, she froze. Faramir lounged at a table across the way, with wine and fruit before him. He looked up at her entry. “I did not realize you were here,” he said mildly.

“I was having a word with Boromir,” she said flawlessly. Too flawlessly, almost. Unconsciously she straightened her skirts and searched his clear eyes for any sign that he had guessed the truth.

His expression was innocent, if unreadable. He smiled gently. “Join me?”

Alura looked at the food and shook her head. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t possibly. I’m sorry.”

“Then I will corner you for dinner,” he said with a grin. She couldn’t think of anything smart or insulting to say. Her mind drew a blank on it, so she pursed her lips and grunted, then moved towards the exit, trying not to bolt. “I will catch you, fair doe,” he called after her.

Boromir stepped out of the sitting room with cold look. “No, brother, you will stumble and break your bow.”

Faramir made a face, but Alura couldn’t laugh. She glanced at Boromir and found it difficult to tear her eyes from his as he wandered towards Faramir, the same searching expression upon his face. The younger brother heaved a sigh that made her face reality. She turned away and left the dining hall in a hurry, eager to be away from him. Her heart pounded and her skin burned. What had she just done? The sounds and sensations poured through her mind, tumbling nervously within her even as she fought to keep them from her.

The halls seemed long, unbearably so as she rushed to a destination unknown. Her footsteps finally carried her to her quarters and there, she entered and shut herself behind the door. Alura leaned against the great wooden surface, putting her hand over her mouth. Her stomach muscles clenched in anxiety as she thought about what had just occurred. She couldn’t even bring herself to wonder what should be done now. If Éowyn found out…she closed her eyes, tightening her hands into fists. Éowyn would be heartbroken.

And what of Boromir? Why had he done this? Alura breathed out and glared at the wall ahead of her, then wandered to the vanity. She glanced at her reflection, her mussed hair. Why had he kissed her? Why had she let him? Smoothing her hands through her hair, she abandoned the mirror and headed towards the bath. The water had been cleaned from it and no hold coals warmed the tub beneath, leaving her empty of the opportunity now that morning had passed. Putting her hand on the edge of the porcelain, Alura sank to the floor and pillowed her head against the cool surface, closing her eyes as tears lined them. She didn’t know what to do.

*

Gay? Nope...sorry to let you down, Freya. ;)