To Capture the Heart of a Warrior

To my readers a profound apology for keeping you waiting. Let's hope there isn't another database meltdown! I'll be reuploading Sheet Lightning very soon, so please be patient with me.

Great thanks to my kind reviewers! I both fear and live for those! I hope you are sufficiently pleased with this chapter.

ghost

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Of Tiny Tempests and Courtesan’s Conspiracies


Pippin and Boromir lay cuddled together on a long settee in Miriel’s outer chambers. From her bedchamber they could hear the courtesan as she sang Merry’s praises, so to speak. Boromir and Pippin had caught the mood from the bedchamber, and, seeing as how Merry and Miriel was rather preoccupied, decided they might as well take advantage of the privacy in the cool, dim sitting-room.

“Well,” observed Boromir, “It seems Miriel has found something she wanted! At least she won’t envy me my own halfling, now.”

“Hobbit, Boromir,” corrected Pippin, “not halfling, remember?”

“Sorry, hobbit, then,” Boromir gave his Little One a tender smile. “I can hardly wait to see your home, my poppet. I wonder what your father and mother will make of me? I do hope they shall take a liking to me.”

“I hope so, too,” Pippin said, returning Boromir’s smile. “I’m sure mother will love you. My father… well, he might be more difficult. You see, I’m the only son, the only one to carry on our name and line. Father wasn’t pleased that I didn’t like the lasses, I can tell you. He loves me, but he so wants a grandchild from me, a grandson. Someone to carry our name.”

“Then I shall do my best to impress him,” Boromir said.

“I’m sure you shall,” replied the hobbit. “But, Boromir…”

“Yes, Poppet?”

“There is something I should tell you.”

“I think I do not like the sound of this, but do go on, Poppet.”

“Well, I… that is…” Pippin heaved a sigh and bit his lower lip.

“Tell your acushla, Pippin.”

“I hope you are not angry with me for not telling you sooner, Acushla,” Pippin paused and took a deep breath. In the bedchamber came the high cries of lovers reaching their greatest pleasure. Pippin waited until they were once more quiet before he spoke. “You see, Acushla… there is one little problem.”

“Well, it can’t be all that bad, Poppet!”

“There is no easy way to say this, Boromir. But here it is; I am not yet of age.”

Boromir laughed, thinking Pippin was having a little joke at his expense. When he saw Pippin wasn’t laughing, the laughter died on the Man’s lips. “Pippin, what are you saying?”

“I am saying, Acushla, that I’m only twenty-eight. Hobbits don’t come of age until thirty-three.”

“What?!” Boromir shouted and sat upright on the settee. He had a stern look on his face.

Pippin’s own face crumpled. “I’ve made you angry with me!” The Little One choked. “I didn’t mean to, honestly, Acushla! I just never thought to tell you because I thought we would never live through any of this, so I thought it was of little consequence.”

The bedchamber door opened, banging against the wall, and out barreled Merry, lacing up his breeches. Miriel was in tow, wrapped in a sheet. “Pippin?” Merry rushed to his cousin’s side. “Why do you cry out, Pippin? Boromir, what did you do?” This last was spoken in an accusatory tone.

“Nothing, Merry!” Boromir replied. He raised his hands, palms out. “I swear it, nothing!”

“It isn’t what Boromir, did, it’s what I didn’t do,” explained Pippin. “I only just told him I’m not of age,” added Pippin miserably.

“Oh, dear!” Merry said, “Pippin, my dear ass! You should have told him that long ago! I thought he knew, and that you two were prepared to deal with this.”

“I know, I should have told him,” Pippin said, his voice quavering. “I just thought that it wouldn’t matter. I never thought we would live through all this, and now I’ve gone and made a mess of things. Again.”

“Merry,” Boromir said, his voice soft and somehow desperate, “Please tell me I’ve not… not violated a child!”

“No, Boromir!” Merry gave Boromir’s shoulder a squeeze. “Pippin wasn’t violated, ever. He always knew what he was doing. It doesn’t work like that, it’s just that, until he’s of age, you must have his father’s consent for formal vows.”

“How am I to obtain his blessing?” Boromir asked, pulling Pippin into his lap. He rubbed Pippin’s back softly, trying to soothe the hiccuping sobs away. “Ssh, now, Little One, Your acushla is not angry with you! I was only just, well, a little shocked.”

“Promise you aren’t angry?” Pippin looked pleadingly up at his warrior.

“No, no, I’m not angry. But you really should have told me, Poppet.”

“I’m sorry, Boromir, truly I am!” Pippin snuggled into Boromir.

Merry and Miriel exchanged glances. Miriel gave Pippin’s shoulder a comforting pat. “Do not fear, sweet Sir Peregrin,” she smiled. “I will think of something.”

“But Miriel,” Boromir interjected, “What can you do for us from Gondor?”

“She’s not going to be in Gondor,” explained Merry, “She’s moving to Bree. She wants out of the courtesan’s life, and is going to open a nice, quiet little tavern.”

Pippin turned in Boromir’s lap and looked at his cousin. “She… she’s going to come with us, then?”

Boromir and Pippin watched Merry and Miriel. The woman was toying with Merry’s hand, an adoring expression on her face. Boromir began to chuckle and Pippin giggled.

“I think,” Pippin said saucily, “Miriel has found another reason to call my cousin ‘Merry the Magnificent’!”

“Yes, I have,” confessed the courtesan. “Besides, I’m weary of this life. Should I remain here, I’ll always be Miriel the courtesan. I want a different life, now. My woman’s heart cries out for love, and I fear I’ll never find that, here. So do not fear, Little One! A courtesan must be clever, to survive. I shall think of a way to win your father’s approval.”

“There, now, my Pippin,” Merry said, “Find comfort, now. With all our heads put together, we shall most certainly win the day!”

Pippin looked at Boromir, as if for his approval. His warrior nodded and smiled. Pippin beamed. He threw his little arms around Boromir’s neck and kissed his warrior soundly. Boromir’s arms tightened around his hobbit as he kissed Pippin back. Miriel and Merry regarded each other once more. Merry nodded in the direction of Miriel’s bedchamber, and the two slipped quietly away to leave the two lovers alone.

As Miriel and Merry reclaimed their spot in her bed, Miriel commented, “I don’t understand how anyone could object to their love. Surely Pippin’s father will see how dear they are to each other,” she sighed, wrapping her soft arms around her own halfling. “It isn’t as though Pippin is coupling with an orc!”

Grasping Miriel’s breasts, Merry grinned. “Truly!” agreed Merry, “As far as that goes, Pippin could have chosen a much worse fellow! One of those awful Ferny boys, for instance. Or worse! A Sackville-Baggins hobbit!”

Merry slithered down her body, relishing the silken smoothness of her skin. What a big beauty she was, this woman! He dipped his head between her thighs, letting his tongue slip between her lower lips to find the center of her pleasure. Her belly quivered with pleasure and she began to moan. Merry stopped suddenly and looked up the length of her body. She looked down her body at him in frustration. Then she saw the thoughtful expression on Merry’s face. “What?” asked Miriel.

“Nothing quite yet,” answered Merry, “But I’m beginning to get an idea. Let’s leave it for now, though,” he grinned and dipped his head once more.

Meanwhile, back in Miriel’s sitting-room Boromir and Pippin lay cuddling together. Boromir had soothed away his little lover’s worries, and Pippin had at last began to relax once more. Boromir curled an arm around Pippin’s shoulders and pulled him close to collect a kiss. As he did so he noticed a slight crackling sound. He looked quizzically at Pippin, then ran his free hand across the hobbit’s chest until he located the pocket from whence the sound had come. Dipping his fingers into the pocket, he retrieved what appeared to be two letters. He looked at Pippin, raising his brows in the manner he used when asking a silent question. Pippin blushed a little with a small grin, nodding his assent.

Boromir unfolded the letters. The first was the letter he had written his brother concerning Pippin. “You knew about this letter,” he said, glancing at his hobbit’s small face. “You saved this, poppet?”

Pippin nodded his head, “Aye, I did, acushla,” said the halfling. The bashful lowering of eyes caught Boromir by surprise. After all they had done together, Pippin could still be sweetly shy at times, and the Man felt himself fall in love all over again. He handed the first letter back to Pippin, then unfolded the second letter and began to read.

“My sweet sister Pervinca,

First of all let me say I am sorry I left home without letting anyone know where I was going. I am sure that by now everyone must think I have either died or gone mad, lost in some distant place. While I am in some distant place, I am neither lost nor mad, unless you count being in love a kind of madness, which I suppose it is. That said, let me add that if this is madness, I wish I could have gone mad years ago. Now I know how you felt when you told Mother and Father you were in love with Tobold Bolger and Mother and Father forbid you to see him again. Thankfully Tolbold won them over and you were able to wed. Unfortunately I fear this is not possible with me and my love.

You know how I have always fancied Men. It was bad enough that Father was sad that I would not wed, bed and produce an heir with a lass for our family name. Then he found out my love of Men, and this upset him terribly, as he regards them as altogether untrustworthy. The good news is that I have met several Men --many, in fact -- which can prove him wrong on this account. Let me write now of one in particular.

Vinca, I think you might have given your approval to him fully. I met him in Rivendell. At first I only liked him, for as you know I locked shut my heart. He was kindly and lordly, and with good reason I later discovered; for he held title of Heir Apparent to the Stewardship of a mighty city, the City of the King itself. This title is a little like that of The Took and Thain, yet more so, for it is not largely ceremonial in nature, but is a quite powerful position. With the King's return, my Man would be crowned a prince of his own kingdom, subject to the High King.

At Rivendell, Elrond held a council, and cousin Frodo was given a mission, a quest, if you will. With him would go a company numbering eight – including Frodo, the company would number nine. Merry and I wanted to go, but Elrond at first wouldn’t give his consent, saying I was too young, but he was eventually swayed to let me come. For that I will be eternally grateful.

What I did not know is that my Man fell in love with me upon first laying eyes on me. I didn’t know, as I said, I suppose because I had made my mind up I could not love again. He did not let on, for he feared I would reject him, and he was such a genteel and kindly fellow that I grew to trust him and befriend him. He was so caring, and as we journeyed into wild lands he watched over and guided and cared for Merry and me with such regard, I could not help but warm to him. I began to notice little things about him at first. He was quite gentle with us, yet he eagerly taught Merry and me how to fight with swords for he feared for our safety. He is known, I am told, as the greatest captain-general in all the armies of his land.

Yet as grand as he seemed, I saw there was something of sadness in him, and my heart warmed to him yet further. Being incredibly handsome, I wondered that he had not wed or taken a sweetheart. After all, I could well imagine he had been pursued by many a maid, smitten by his red-gold hair and russet beard and his beautiful eyes, which look exactly like the stone in Mother’s ring, the one Father gave her upon their betrothal. I would describe him as a strong, very large Man, even among his own kind, and very well made. His raiment, as was fitting, was quite princely. His voice, too, was wonderful, a deep, rich thing which falls upon the ear like wine and honey. What was there not to desire in this man? Why no betrothed, why no wife? As it turned out, he had forsworn such things for the sake of his country.

His sadness stirred my heart. I began at first to simply keep him company, then one night I lay down beside him, but could not sleep, and only lay at rest and simply looked at him, wondering if he would ever find a measure of happiness. And then my fingers began to itch, wanting to touch his dear face as he slept, to touch his rakish beard. You know me! Once my curiosity is roused it must be satisfied. So when I did touch him, he waked instantly – I suppose I did not consider his military training, for he wakes suddenly and completely, like a cat.

At first I was afraid he would be angry that I should be so forward – I still didn’t know at that point that already he loved me – and I also feared his ire as some fear and hate lads like myself who do not fancy females. I feared he would hate me or worse. He only looked at me, and I could not read his face. I turned away, thinking I had made a terrible mistake in befriending him. But he wouldn’t allow me to turn away!

He made me look at him. His eyes looked into my very soul. And then, oh, Vinca, then I saw; I knew he fancied me. It was just there, in his sad, beautiful eyes. And then, Vinca, then he kissed me! I was a little afraid, for I had promised myself I would not love again. Yet my treacherous heart betrayed me in spite of all my struggles. Ere long, we touched, we embraced, Vinca, when I had thought I would never touch or embrace another, and well, he loved me! Oh, Vinca, he loved me with all his heart, and I could not help but love him back. Over the next few days, I tested his love time and again, and he did not fail me. I even did that thing that I have told you about, that thing which has driven so many away. And he loved me yet more!

We journeyed further on our quest into great danger, at one point even losing Gandalf. He did not die, yet at the time, we thought he had surely perished, and my heart broke. Boromir – for that is the name of my Man – was right there for me, and helped me through my grief, for I blamed myself for the loss of Gandalf. As day followed night, we loved each other with a love I have only heard tales about, but never seen, much less had. Those were the happiest days of my life. Oh, Vinca, his slightest touch could send my heart flying up to the moon and back. In his arms I have found more happiness in an hour than most people know in a lifetime. He gave me all his love, Vinca, I know this as surely as I know my name. He gave me a love that is more than love. He loved me so much I could not help but love him back when I thought this would never be. He gave me hope for happiness that I thought was forever lost. He gave me his heart, all of it. Doubt not his love, sister. Doubt not my love for him.

Did I fly up among the stars? Did I dance upon the waters? Did I fall into the sky where the ocean meets the shores? Did I burn with a single undying flame? Oh, Vinca, I did all these things and more! The time I have spent with him filled me with joy, more joy than hobbit, man, dwarf or elf can ever guess. A brief moment with him was a lifetime of love, and we had many months filled with moments of perfect love.

But they were not to last, dear Vinca. Boromir was slain by many orcs. He was defending Merry and me from orcs, a fearsome kind called Uruk-Hai, bigger, stronger and far more dangerous than ordinary orcs, and able to move about under the light of the sun. I watched him fall under a rain of arrows, at one point plucking as many as five arrows from his noble breast.

Much has happened since that time, Vinca, but you shall hear of this from others. I shall not return, Vinca. I have decided. I am broken inside. My heart is simply gone. We had news that Boromir might yet live, but then we found out that even had he been alive, he was now buried, his dear body having been stripped of anything precious by brigands. It was them who robbed his body who told us. And now his brother has taken a band of Men to find his body for a proper burial. I have made up my mind, Vinca. I shall not attend a proper burial for him. Instead, I shall join him.

His brother Faramir tells me he yet has hopes that Boromir lives. However, I am certain there is no hope. Vinca, I cannot go on! Forgive me for this. Please tell Mother and Father I am so very sorry. I cannot go on any longer, and I dwell here in this life under a great, deep darkness. I suppose I should not abandon all hope, so I shall wait at the pinnacle of the great white Tower of the Moon, of which my Boromir was Warden, and I swore to be Guard in his memory. There I can watch for the return of the search party Faramir is leading. Should I see Boromir’s corpse, I know my heart will fail me. I shall try to resist, but if you get this letter, you will know I did not win out against despair. Just know that I have gone to be with my best and only love, him who never loved me for ought but what I am. Without him my life is empty blackness. My life is no longer a life, only a prison which chains me to this world and keeps me from my beloved. You must look after Merry for me. I know he will be heartbroken, but if I do not do this thing, Merry will always feel he has to take care of me, and that he cannot do and still have a life of his own.

Do not blame Boromir for this, Vinca. Our brief time together was a time of brightness, a sharp season of glory that can never be recaptured. Just know that in our too small time together, I found a perfect love, for it was just that, Vinca. It was perfect. How is one to settle for less? I can no more. Should I spy his corpse, I will know only one thing to do. I know you will miss me, all my family will. But I cannot live without him. I would surely go mad. Oh, if only Faramir is right! If only Boromir would return to me, I could not be happier, and perhaps find at last something in life worth living! Each day would be golden, each moment more precious than mithril. Oh, let it be so… but if not, then, dear sister, you will read this letter, and know you shall not see me here in this world again. Be angry with me if you must. I must be with him, either in life or death.

Love,
Pippin”

Boromir carefully folded the letter and offered it to Pippin, but Pippin pushed his hand away. “No, my acushla,” he said. Pippin kissed tears from Boromir’s cheeks and held him softly, whispering, “Now, now, my Boromir! You live, and because you live, so do I. Only keep the letter, to remind you not to risk your foolish neck!”

Boromir pocketed the letter carefully next to his heart. He held Pippin in his arms softly, murmuring shakily into the pointed ear, “My poppet, my fairy princeling, I shall never leave your side again. Never again, though the world turn to ash and the stars to dust.” Trembling with emotion, Boromir dipped his head and gave Pippin the most tender, the most passionate and loving of kisses. With one hand, he unclasped the brooch the Lady Galadriel had given the halfling and let Pippin’s cloak fall in a puddle on the floor. He lay Pippin on his back, then surrounded the halfling with his arms tenderly.

“My letter put you in a tender mood?” asked Pippin.

“Shall I show you, then?” returned Boromir, tightening his embrace. Pippin’s eyes slid closed as Boromir took his mouth, and the room seemed to suddenly catch fire.

To Be Continued