Thalion Faer, Doltha Hún

I was lying comfortably in an ocean of comfort; the mattress beneath me like a cloud, and the blankets layered over me like gentle breezes carrying me along. I almost did not want to wake. But as enticing as this room was, I knew that I would not be in Rivendell forever, and it would do me well to visit the rest of the city. With effort I slid out of the bed, stretching my muscles and rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

On the table before me was a white dress with a red robe to go over top. The dress had intricate beadwork weaved into its material, and when seen in the sun it twinkled like a sky of stars. The red robe was made of a heavenly material, incredibly soft to the touch but light as a feather all the same. I gratefully slipped it on, forgetting what it was like to be in a dress.

I twirled in a circle, reminiscing over the days when all I ever wore were dresses. It was liberating, in a way, to have such an airy feeling. I smiled, and brushed out my hair. There would be no practicing today.

Wandering out of the room, I inhaled the fresh morning air; took in the sound of the waterfall, the smell of the trees, the sound of birds in the distance and a chorus of Elves singing a morning greeting. How I had missed this city. My feet led me away from the room and slowly along the outer paths. I wandered past a courtyard, and caught sight of bright blonde hair, shining like the sun. I froze, pacing back and staring at the Elf talking to Aragorn.

“Legolas!” I exclaimed happily, walking briskly into the room as he turned to me.

“Vanya?” He questioned as I came closer. I grinned, pulling him into an embrace. “What brought you here?”

“I met the hobbits outside of Bree and came with them—Legolas, they met Tom Bombadil!” I laughed, and he joined me, keeping my arms held in his hands.

“How many moons did you spend in the Old Forest looking for him?” He teased. “And the hobbits find him by chance.”

“Man mathach?” I asked, happily letting the Elvish roll off my tongue. He laughed lightly.

“You can still speak so beautifully.” I lightly pushed him. He kissed my forehead, a gesture that I remembered from the time I had spent with him. He was the brother I never had, looking out for me and teaching me and helping to mold me into the woman I was now.

“How is Thranduil?” I asked.

“He wonders when you shall return, as you said you would.” He teased. “But for all his knowledge he seems to have forgotten your elusive nature. Leaving in the middle of the night?”

“You know very well your father would not have allowed me to go had I announced it.” I said in my defence. Behind us Aragorn began to leave, and I realized I had completely interrupted whatever conversation they had been holding. “Oh, I apologize. We can continue at a later time.”

“You need not leave—“ Aragorn began, but I interrupted a final time.

“Do not let my presence hinder your conversation.” I smiled, bowing slightly before leaving them be. My heart was light, like my foot falls, filled with happiness and an irreplaceable hope. The world seemed to feel right today, and I held onto each second, etching it into my memory. Hoof beats sounded on the cobblestone in the courtyard below, and I casually glanced down.

There were a few Elves dismounting their horses, as well as a dwarf or two, and a handful of men. I studied them all, figuring they were here for the council Lord Elrond has spoken of. My eyes focused on one of the men, his shield. It was one of Gondor. I began to wander towards the staircase, studying the man. His hair was red, a red that I remembered. He dismounted his horse, surveying the city he arrived in. My heart skipped a beat as I realized who he was.

“Boromir?” I breathed, reaching the bottom of the staircase. He was feet away from me, and part of me wondered if my eyes were being cheated. The man looked at me, narrowed his eyes slightly, and then his eyebrows furrowed.

“It cannot be…” He whispered. “Vanya?”

“Boromir!” I cried happily, rushing towards him. I leapt onto him, wrapping my arms as tightly around his neck as I could. The tears in my eyes met no force attempting to stop them; they fell freely. I touched my lips to his cheek as I pulled away, marveling at his presence. My hands remained on either side of his face as he held me close to him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“I—I was coming home.” I replied quietly before pulling him into another hug. “I cannot believe you are here!”

“You know not how much I have worried for you.” He whispered, and I laughed, wiping my tears away. He had changed in ways, but stayed the same. The way he held himself, a warrior. My oldest friend, my dearest friend.

“I am sorry.” I replied.

“Minas Tirith is not the same. Faramir cried when I told him you had left.” He laughed.

“And what of you, Captain of Gondor?” I asked, testing his even grander façade of a soldier. He smiled, the same smile I remembered from my childhood.

“You need not ask such a question.” He replied quietly. “But your reputation precedes you.” He said, releasing me and looking at me better. “Vanya Maethoriel, Lady of Strength!” He announced proudly.

“Boromir.” I laughed, slightly embarrassed at the looks from the surrounding people.

“Braver than the souls of a hundred men, a true woman of Gondor!” He mused.

“They tell stories.” I protested.

“They tell the truth.” He argued back. I shook my head, crossing my arms against my chest. “If you were a man you would have my position as Captain.”

“Denethor would never stand for such a thing, you know it as well as I. I am just a stable girl, remember?”

“My father is mad, then, to deny your abilities.” He said in my defence.

“Be careful, Boromir; he may have spies lurking!” I teased, causing him to laugh. I hadn’t felt such a level of happiness for many long years, and I was not ready to let the feeling go. I took his hand and began to lead him through the corridors, there were so many places here I wanted to show him. We entered a circular room with murals placed in intervals around the walls.

“Do you remember when we were younger, and we would sneak around during the night in the forbidden places?” He asked in a quiet voice. I laughed lightly, although it sounded much more like a little girl’s giggle. That’s what I felt like right now, a little girl. My heart was convinced we were ten years old once more, the two inseparable best friends whom should not be friends at all.

“Of course I remember. And the look on your Lord Denethor’s face upon telling him it was your fault, not mine. How he loved to believe otherwise.” I reminisced as we walked around the room.

“You always found ways to get us into terrible trouble.” He smiled. His eyes then found a certain portrait, and took swift steps towards it, pulling me along behind him. It was a depiction of Sauron’s defeat, when Isildur’s broken blade cut the ring off the Dark Lord’s hand. Boromir exhaled in wonder, marveling at the picture. I was aware of another presence in the room and turned to see Aragorn sitting on a bench close by, reading a book. Boromir too turned to look. “You are no Elf.”

“The Men of the South are welcome here.” Aragorn replied calmly.

“Who are you?” Boromir asked.

“He is a friend of Gandalf the Grey.” I replied.

“Then we are here on a common purpose, friend.” Boromir said, offering a smile. He turned to see the shrine where the blade of Islildur, Narsil, was displayed. “The shards of Narsil! The blade that cut the ring.” He exclaimed, releasing my hand and walking over to the blade, picking up the handle. He gripped it in his hand proudly, strongly. He trialed his fingers lightly along the blade, but gasped quietly when it drew blood. “It’s still sharp…” He whispered, eyes sliding over to Aragorn, who was staring intently at him. “No more than a broken blade.” He said stiffly, tossing the handle back to its place. The blade balanced on the edge before clanging to the ground, and a frown grew on my face as he began to walk away.

I bent down, picking up the handle and carefully placing it back in its place. I shot a look of apology at Aragorn and ran after Boromir, a mixture of confusion and anger swirling within me. Why had he suddenly grown so irritable? I finally found him and began walking backwards in front of him, forcing him to slow down. He had a scowl on his face that frightened me. I did not remember him like this.

“What is the matter?” I asked seriously, almost sadly. He met my eyes and slowed his pace, letting the anger seep out of his system immediately.

“Nothing.” He replied somewhat calmly. “Come, show me what you have remembered from my lessons.” He insisted, drawing his sword. I hesitated a moment before nodding.

“As you wish.” I replied quietly.



I lay awake in my bed, thinking the past, present, and future. I thought of Gondor, and how it would feel to finally return. I wondered if perhaps Boromir and I could go back together; for meeting all of my friends again at once made me wish never to be alone again. I was finished growing, learning, experiencing things in order to find myself. I now wanted nothing more than to stay in one place.

I thought back to my young life in Gondor, the games Boromir, Faramir and I would play. The late nights we would spend together, the jokes we would play on other citizens, the different lives we lived. I remembered Denethor’s words, how they stung me. She’s just a stable girl, he would say. Nothing but a street rat, Boromir. Do not waste your time gallivanting with her. But I had proven him wrong; I was stronger and braver now than half the soldiers in his army. I remembered Boromir supporting me…Boromir bidding me farewell.

“He’s dead, Boromir.” I cried, his arms wrapped protectively around me as I sobbed. I was so weak. “My father has fallen, and now I am alone.”

“You are not alone, Vanya. You have Faramir, you have me; surely my father will help you.” He replied. Our sixteen year old minds were so naïve.

“Your father does not want to acknowledge my existence, Boromir. He cannot stand me being alive and you know it.” I snapped. I pushed away and wandered into my small house. I began to quickly shove odd items into a backpack. Things I imagined I would need: clothing, food.

“What are you doing?” He asked, confusion painted on his young face.

“I cannot stay here, Boromir. I…I must leave.” I forced out, taking clothing that had belonged to my father and laying it before me: a warm shirt, long pants, boots.

“You cannot leave, Vanya!” He protested. “You have not a place to go, stay here where we can look after you.” He said as I removed my dress, quickly sliding on my father’s clothing.

“I can’t, Boromir.” I whispered, tears shedding from my eyes and staining my clothes, hair, face.

“Then I shall come with you.” He said sternly as I turned around, gripping my pack in my hand.

“No, your place is here in Gondor. The people will need you; you will be Captain one day. Denethor will see to it.” I replied.

“I will not let you leave!” He cried.

“It is not your decision to make.” I said, trying to push past him. He pulled me back, eyes piercing mine for a brief moment before he brought his lips down on mine. I froze completely, neither my mind nor my body knowing how to respond. He pulled away and I was speechless for a moment, his eyes searching mine for some response. “I…I will come back…One day.”

I wondered if he remembered that day as I did. But that was many years ago, and we had both evidently changed, in one way or another. He was still my dearest friend, that I did not deny. But I did not harbour the feelings for him I had then. I hoped that we could treat one another as the dear friends we were. Nothing more.