Masks

Thanks, Freya, for the email! I appreciate it. Silly website. *slaps computer* Er...wait...

Sandra...I saw what you said to Frosty. *gulp* More pressure to be good. *grabs head* ;) Thanks! And...I got the invite...sorry...I'm sucha slacker. *sigh* ;)

And thanks Beth! Who knows what works anymore. Does www.adult-fanfiction.org work anymore? For a long time that wouldn't load for me.

Kit - Thankie! Yesss....to be wanted by both would be a dream. ;) I understand not writing...all too well. *sighs*

*

“Where are you?” the call roused Alura and she opened her eyes. After a cry in the bath Alura had wandered into the bedroom and curled into a lounger near the window. She had fallen asleep without realizing it, lost in her thoughts. Now glancing at the window she saw that evening had settled in. She yawned as the bedroom door opened and her cousin entered with a frown. “Why did you not answer?” Éowyn came to the lounger and sat on the edge of it. Her eyebrows narrowed. “You look like you’ve been ill.”

“Thanks,” Alura muttered dryly, stretching and yawning. “I took a nap.”

Éowyn shook her head and picked at Alura’s skirt absently. “I can see that. You had me worried. I had thought I would see you after my fitting.”

“I’m sorry,” she told the blond, feeling like earlier had been a bad dream. But it wasn’t. She knew that. “I was tired. What is there to be worried about?”

“Nothing I suppose.” Éowyn sighed and there seemed to be more in her eyes than she let on. Alura nudged her thigh with her foot and gave her a questioning look. The princess folded her arms together. “I have not seen Éomer since yesterday morning. He is one to go off and do things on his own, truly enough, but I had thought I would see him at lunch.”

“He is probably having fun tormenting Boromir.” A chill spread through her when she said the name, but she did not let on. Alura curled her arms around her midsection and looked out the window again. “Is it dinnertime already?”

Éowyn nodded and glanced towards the door. “In a few moments dinner will begin. Can you bring yourself from your sleep long enough to come with me?”

Alura rubbed her hungry stomach softly, weighing the choice between satisfying herself and escaping Boromir. In the end she knew avoiding him would alert Éowyn. Truth battled within her to be told, but she was not so sure she wanted Éowyn to know, even if Alura should make her wrong known for the sake of revealing Boromir as well. She sighed and looked at the pale princess, wondering what Éowyn would do. Would she hate her forever for such a sin? Then too what if Boromir himself revealed what had happened? How would he say what had occurred? A mistake brought on by wine? She groaned unconsciously and Éowyn frowned. “It is the least you could do,” she said, mistaking the purpose of Alura’s pained expression.

“I will come,” she sighed, playing into that idea for now. She could only hope the eldest son of Denethor was absent. Alura pushed herself up as Éowyn got off the lounger. “Have you seen Boromir today?” she asked, trying to sate her curiosity without seeming overly concerned, even though it gnawed at her to know what he might have said or done.

The golden-haired princess nodded with a more relaxed expression. “Indeed.”

Alura rolled her eyes and fussed at her hair, then straightened from the vanity mirror. “Indeed? And? What had he to say?”

“He told me that he hopes for a good marriage with me. That he expects happiness and will work towards that.” A smile crossed her lips. “And…he kissed me.”

For a second Alura stopped, her expression shocked. Éowyn nudged her playfully and motioned her out the door. “Kissed you?” Alura said as she followed, shutting the door to her quarters behind her. She suddenly did not feel quite so hungry. Her emotions were conflicting and she could not pinpoint any one reason for it. “What sort of kiss?”

“A chaste one,” Éowyn assured her with a sigh. “But it was not unpleasant.”

‘Do you like him?” Alura asked a little less neutrally than she had wanted.

Her cousin misread the reasons again and gave her a frown. “I know that you are bent on my hating him, but I do not feel he will earn such harsh feelings from me.” She stopped there in the hall with a softened look to her. “I hate to leave you in Rohan. Perhaps you can stay here?”

She had a feeling that here was not among the safest places in present circumstances. Still, Éowyn had such a hopeful look that Alura could do nothing but smile weakly. “Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?” Éowyn repeated with a playful look. “Perhaps you should consider the reasons for remaining, for I am not the only one. I understand Lord Faramir enjoys your company.”

Faramir had been the furthest thing from her mind until now. Alura groaned and shook her head as they resumed the trip towards the dining hall. “Lord Faramir,” she hissed and glared at her cousin. “Do you mind?”

Éowyn laughed at her sour look. “Has he done something to incur your wrath?”

“He exists,” Alura replied depreciatively.

“You are so terrible,” the blond sighed in a long-suffering voice as she pulled her into the dining hall.

Alura tensed when she saw the table. Their backs were turned, but their red hair gave them away among the chestnut tones dominating the men of Gondor. Both Boromir and Faramir were present. She considered stopping, turning and returning to her room, but dismissed it as Éowyn urged her along. The blonde’s smile was bright as she noticed her brother sitting there with the Steward. She sat down beside him and Alura beside her. She glanced at Boromir before she could bring herself to stop and caught his eyes. He tore them away quickly enough. Alura flinched at his speed.

“I was beginning to despair, thinking I would never see you again, brother,” Éowyn was saying.

“I have been exploring,” Éomer said lightly with a smile. He traced the rim of his goblet. Alura watched, for lack of a better place to hide from Boromir’s eyes. Éomer’s fingers seemed to tremble. Alura followed up to his and saw a flawlessly cool expression. It troubled her, but she said nothing, could say nothing in present company. Perhaps he had been drinking. “Minas Tirith is full of life if one knows where to find it.”

“At the bottom of a keg, Éomer?” Boromir suggested smoothly with a half smile that Alura caught on a glance. His eyes strayed to hers in that moment as well, then quickly returned to the Heir of Rohan’s.

Éomer seemed to take no offence, even laughing at the comment. “You may find me at the bottom of a barrel soon, Boromir. After I witness you marry into my family.”

“Would you insult my house in my very presence?” Denethor asked with a shrewd, weighing expression. It was a mild question, one hard to pin the motives that moved it as he put it. Not nearly as venomous as Alura imagined it could have been another time. She would not begrudge the Steward a good mood, but the events of the day had left her bothered by everything it seemed.

Her cousin smiled at Lord Denethor cordially. “Not your house, good sir, and not maliciously, of course. I only tease Boromir in good nature, as a brother to a brother. For that is what we shall be.”

“Perhaps that is well,” the older man said, casting his eyes upon his eldest son. “There may be much you two could learn from one another.”

It was a harmless suggestion. Alura would have thought nothing of it had Théoden spoke thusly, but Boromir seemed troubled by it. His expression darkened towards his father, then he slid his gaze to Éomer. The Third Marshall of the Riddermark grinned as expected, but Boromir did not return his good nature. “Perhaps,” he agreed without agreement, then took his fork into his hand. He said no more and looked poised to keep it that way for the rest of the evening.

Alura shared a puzzled look with Éowyn, then turned her attention upon her own meal, hoping it would pass quickly and she could leave. There seemed to be a tension in the air and while it removed her from the events of earlier, it did not give her any comfort. As it was, however, she was not left on her own to finish and leave. Another who had remained quiet now spoke. “I had hoped to see you tonight.”

She looked up into Faramir’s cordial expression and could not bring herself to refuse his kind demeanor. She gave him a pale smile. “And now that you have seen me?”

He laughed lightly. “Now I am encouraged to ask for more.”

“More? What do you mean?” she asked him with an interested gaze. Her expression was very judgmental, playfully so.

Faramir coughed and smiled. “A private walk upon the terrace, perhaps?”

Alura inhaled and almost absently looked to Boromir. She found his eyes on her. They did not race away just yet. She felt an elbow in her side and her pulse quickened as she look to Eowyn, half expecting to see a face that guessed the truth. Instead, however, the blond was smiling. “Does that not sound lovely?” Her blue eyes sought Faramir and Alura followed the gaze, seeing him smile as if she had been put on the spot.

Inclined to deny him, Alura was half tempted to retort scathingly, but Boromir’s interested gaze made her feel intensely uncomfortable. She wanted to escape the moment and so said, “It sounds lovely.” She avoided Boromir’s eyes.

“Then after dinner will you come with me?” he pressed and Alura felt his foot brush hers. She glared over her plate at him and he grinned.

“I’ll come,” she responded, conscious that Éomer’s discussion with Denethor had ended. Looking up she saw those dark eyes of his boring into her. It startled her, the measuring gaze, after his having ignored her from the beginning. “If it meets with your father’s approval,” she added uncomfortably.

Denethor’s expression did not relax, but his tone spoke no ill will. “It does. Count yourself blessed.”

“Father,” Boromir breathed low, frowning at the Steward.

A cold smile spread across Denethor’s lips. “Worry not over the words of an old man, Boromir. It is well that Rohan and Gondor renew the old ties of friendship. Gladdened is my heart to see such fellowship.”

They were empty words, Alura perceived, but said nothing. The conversation at the table died from the personal and the jovial, turning instead to war and politics. Alura was glad not to have to banter with Faramir. His eyes came to her often, but he said nothing to her, content to merely observe and listen to the idle talk. Alura observed as well, watching each of those seated with her, noticing the Steward’s watchful eyes doing the same as she. When dinner ended she was grateful and rose as soon as the others began to. Faramir came to her side then and held out his arm. Moving to take it, Alura glanced up and noticed Denethor watching. There was no judgment in his unreadable gaze, but it left her feeling judged all the same. Chilled, she turned away and let Faramir lead her.

“Your father seemed very interested in our interactions,” she commented once they stepped into the cool night air.

Faramir rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Do not let him trouble you. My father is meddling. He is probably surprised any female would give me a moment’s glance. Father disapproves of my happiness. If I am happy, he is not being the kind of father he wishes to be.”

“Surely you exaggerate,” Alura said with an upraised brow. They stopped near the rail.

The young captain of Gondor smiled softly. “Only a little.”

She sighed and looked down on the city. Those dark eyes seemed to haunt her. “Does he truly despise his own son?”

“Perhaps not,” Faramir sighed, leaning against the stones before him. He folded his arms before him and gazed down as well. “Come, let us talk of merrier things. He is nothing to worry over. You have his blessing, after all.” He smirked at her.

“And what would you talk about with me?”

He smiled and stood straight, his expression softening. His hand moved towards her and she tensed, but did not back away when he smoothed a strand of hair from her cheek. “I would not speak at all,” he breathed, bending towards her.

“Faramir.” The calling of his name was flat and hard. Alura looked up, seeing Faramir’s eyes grow irritated as he looked over her shoulder. She turned and saw Boromir standing there in the shadows, watching them. The moon glittered in his darkened eyes as he spoke. "Father wishes a word with you."

The younger one's expression darkened. "What could he want now?" he hissed, then looked down into Alura's eyes. "It seems my father does not wish for my joy tonight, as I said. Perhaps you would walk with me tomorrow before the ball?"

"That sounds nice," she said, feeling bad for him. She wondered what sort of man could possibly find fault enough to hate Faramir. He was very kind and honorable. She hated watching him walk away.

But another concern flitted through her as she waited for Boromir to leave and noticed he was not. He watched her openly with an unreadable expression, then approached when she said nothing. Her hands curled into fists when he stopped at her side. "And how do you fare this evening?"

His question seemed ludicrous to her, so much so that she laughed lightly and looked up at him. "How do you think I fare?"

"Very well. I'll not concern myself to ask," he said coolly, his eyes stalking the night sky ahead of him. He crossed his arms and glanced at her. "What have you said to Éowyn?"

"I told you I would say nothing." His assuming tone bothered her. His very presence bothered her.

Boromir ignored her statement and went on. "Has she said anything?"

Annoyed, Alura set her jaw and turned to face him. He followed her example with a hard look. "She said you kissed her. Was this after our little encounter?"

His eyes widened at the revelation and then he grinned. She glared at his mirth. "Why should that trouble you? Are you jealous?"

"Jealous of what!?" she snapped.

The eldest son of the Steward shrugged and unfolded his arms. "True. You certainly did get more of a welcome than she."

Alura put her hands to his shoulder and shoved him hard, causing him to stumble back. Boromir stepped back, but did nothing to retort except laugh. "You're disgusting! Is this some sort of game? Marry one and have your fun with the other? You also promised her happiness. Do you think this will accomplish that?"

He sobered and shook his head, sitting back against the rail. "The game is not what I can get away with, but what has been gotten away with inside me."

"You speak in riddles," she accused with a derisive sniff.

"I also feel in riddles it seems." He sighed and gazed up at the stars. "It is not my wish to make her unhappy."

"Then why did you do what you did?"

His eyes hardened at that. "I was not aware I was alone in the doing. You said nothing to my recollection that hinted you were anything other than pleased at the time. Why did you not tell me to stop? I know you weren’t afraid."

Alura narrowed her eyes to slits and opened her mouth to speak, but could think of no valid response. He seemed to take satisfaction in that as he watched and waited. She sighed and directed her gaze towards the city. “So what do you expect? What do you want from me?” she asked softly.

Boromir exhaled and shook his head. “I do not know. I have been haunted by thoughts of you.” He looked for her reaction.

It startled her. She felt washed in a sense of dread and enjoyment that she did not want. “Why?” she breathed, not really expecting a sensible answer.

Neither did he have one. “I do not know.” He gave her a penetrating look. “Tell me it is not the same for you, that you have no desire for me.” When she opened her mouth to speak, he seemed to hold his breath. And when she remained silent he turned his gaze away to glare at the city. “This is madness.”

“Nothing need be done,” she answered his distress firmly. She watched his eyes gaze her over. “We made a mistake clouded by wine. We need not make it again. Ever.”

“And Éowyn need never know?” he laughed bitterly. “You think it will be that simple?”

Alura frowned up at him. “Why should it be any more complicated than that?”

“I think it can get that way without our needing tend to it.”

“Why?”

He took a step towards her and her pulse quickened. She knew what he was going to do and was not disappointed when he gripped her arms and jerked her into him. Boromir leaned his head down and pressed his mouth into hers swiftly, igniting a hard kiss that took her breath away. Her sensations seemed to heighten. The night sounds filtered into her hearing strongly, his beard scratched along her cheeks and the warmth of his tongue pressed along hers made her whimper. It ended swiftly. Boromir stepped back and looked down into her face with that same challenging expression. “You did not stop me. That is why.”

“Can’t you stop yourself?” she asked him harshly, wiping at her lips.

He shook his head and did not answer. For a long moment he simply watched the city, then gazed towards the entrance back into the hall. “We should not be alone for so long.”

She didn’t stop to ask him his reasons, agreeing that to be away was better. Giving him a last look, noticing that it was returned, she departed from him and hurried back inside. There near the door she bumped into Faramir, who was standing with his father. He turned, watching her as she passed him. “My apologies,” she said, noticing that Denethor watched her as well. His eyes were very cool towards her.

Faramir looked as though he had been troubled, but quickly masked it behind his usual cordial smile. “Do not trouble yourself to worry, Lady Alura. Shall I see you tomorrow?”

Alura glanced at Denethor and saw nothing to guide what she supposed he wanted her reaction to be. “You shall,” she replied, wishing to be away from Denethor much more than she had ever wanted to be away from his elder son. He made her very uncomfortable. She nodded politely, then headed away from them quickly. Éomer had warned she and Éowyn of Denethor’s customary demeanor, but it did nothing to diminish the unease she felt when faced with his attention. At the doorway exiting the dining hall she ventured a glance and saw Faramir watching. Thankfully the Steward had his back to her.

She disappeared from the sight of the younger and bit her bottom lip as she hurried away. Halfway down the hall she was stopped, startled by a hand darting for her arm. Gasping loudly, she turned, not sure who to expect and surprised by who it turned out to be. Éomer pulled her into the hall he had been walking down. “Have a word with me, cousin.”

“What is it?” she asked testily, annoyed that she had been stopped.

He gazed at her gravely, darting glances around them. “I wanted to give you a word of caution concerning Boromir.”

Her eyes widened, but she kept a tight reign on her reaction. “What do you mean?”

“I mean be careful how much time you spend in his company.” His tone was a little firmer than she liked.

“What do you imply?” she asked him, knitting her brow.

Éomer took her by the arm and pulled her away as a guard wandered down the hall nearby. He leaned close to her ear and breathed, “I imply that you spend too much time with him. I’ll not have you ruin my sister’s happiness.”

Stung by his anger, Alura backed away and felt her eyes line with tears. “That’s not what I want. You should know that.”

“It has come into question,” he responded hard, closing in on her. His eyes held none of the warmth they had before when he had looked upon her. “Do not waste yourself on him. He will marry Éowyn. I warn you against any further contact.” The firmness remained a moment longer, then softened as if nothing had occurred. He pet her shoulder gently. “For your sake as well as Éowyn’s. Denethor is not one to incur wrath from.”

“It seems neither are you,” she hissed coldly, tearing herself away.

Éomer sighed, but did not pursue her. “I only wish to protect you.”

“From what?”

He gave her no answer. She turned away from him, rattled and now more bothered than ever before. Wrapping her arms around herself she hustled to her rooms where she planned on remaining for as long as she could. She didn’t know what was happening here, but it was clear things were not as cut and dry as she had imagined.

*