Boromir of Gondor

by SoneaKyraliana

Summary:

Harry has always wanted a normal life, but that's the only thing he seems unable to achieve. WWhen it looked like his dream had finally come true, a senescal becomes interested in him. And nothing will be the same. Not when war threatens to end this new world. Ans especially not when his heart and soul choose to go in different directions.

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Harry sighed as he watched the sunset from the stone bench he was sitting on.

The wariness of the war had not disappeared, which had prevented him from being able to deal with his memories. Sometimes he had come to wish he could obliviate himself.

It had been two years, two years since he had come to Arda.

He had defeated Voldemort and ended the war. After two hard years of training and constant fighting, it was all over and most of his friends were still alive.

The Hogwarts Army, as the DA had been renamed after Dumbledore's death, had lost several members. Among them were Colin Creevy and Lavender Brown.

The hardest hit, however, had been Ron and Hermione. And Harry knew that he would never forgive himself for not having prevented the terrible fate his friends suffered.

Luna and Neville, among others, had survived. And Draco. Not without scars, they all had some, be they visible or not; but they were alive and sane. Really, it was more than they’d dared to hope for.

The three of them, along with the Weasley twins, had tried to help Harry recover from the war, but were unable to. Try as he might, he just couldn't forget who he was.

The wizarding world saw him as their saviour, their hero. And that only meant more responsibilities.

The public had expectations of him: their hero would become an auror, still young he would marry a beautiful witch from a good family, he would continue his line with two identical sons and a daughter with his eyes and his mother's hair and he would be the next Dumbledore, the next leader of the Light.

The ministry, on the other hand, tried to take credit for the achievements of the young wizard, with no success. Ultimately, they tried to control him, make him another one of their pawns, promising him a position in the Auror Corps and even a promotion to department head.

Harry had not satisfied any of their expectations.

He had continued to command the Hogwarts Army, locking up every loose Death Eater or corrupt member of the ministry, until something changed everything.

It happened during a fight with Death Eaters. One of them had cast the Killing Curse at Neville and Harry knew the boy wouldn't have time to dodge it.

Without a moment's hesitation, he stepped in front of him and the bright green light hit him squarely in the chest.

It should have killed him, it should have drained his magic and stopped his heart. It should have granted him peace.

Unfortunately, things were never that easy for Harry. Once again, he lived up to his title as the Boy-Who-Lived and Master of Death.

He had risen from the ground and, as if nothing strange or unusual had happened, which in his case could be considered the case, he had continued to fight.

It was hours later, sitting in an armchair by the fire in Grimmauld Place, that the implications of what had happened washed over him and he broke completely.

That night he cried himself to unconsciousness and neither Kreacher nor Shadow were able to comfort him.

The next day, Harry tried to get rid of the Relics; he tried to destroy them, but somehow, they always found a way to get back to him.

From that day on, Harry was never the same again. He devoted himself purely to hunting the Death Eaters and put on practice the most daring stunts all on his own.

His friends and colleagues noticed the change. Harry was a great actor, but if there was anyone who knew him enough to notice his masks, it was the HA members.

As he dedicated more and more of himself towards changing the wizarding world, they took care of him, supporting him when he needed them without his having to ask, helping him achieve his goals and trying to help him heal.

But Harry knew that nothing they did could heal him; he was broken beyond any chance of recovery.

And he saw what that was doing to his friends, to the closest thing to a family he had. He could see, feel, their pain. Pain for him, for not being able to do more to help him.

And that broke his heart even more. They should not suffer because of him, not now that the war was finally over and they could have a normal life.

So it was no surprise when, after dying three more times and coming back to life as if it were nothing, he accepted an offer from the Valar.

They had introduced themselves as the guardians of Arda, also known as Middle Earth. They had seen his suffering and wanted to give him a gift to ease his pain.

When he was offered to go to this new world and start a new life, he didn't care that it was a world prone to war and death; Harry wanted to get away from his own. He had to. For his friends.

And for himself too. He had to give himself a chance to heal, as much as he believed it to be a lost cause.

In spite of everything, what led him to accept Mandos' offer immediately was the mention of a race of beings as eternal as himself: the elves.

It wasn't until several weeks later that he really thought about Nienna's promise: in Arda he would find his soulmate.

It was hard for Harry to believe after the life he had led up till then, but holding onto a little hope couldn't hurt, right?

So, that was how they had found themselves in a fascinating new world, with new and different creatures.

Harry had discovered that the Valar had not sent him without resources. Upon awakening, Shadow was at his side, his moke-skin purse ―the one Hagrid had given him before the war― hung from his neck, as always holding all his belongings, although the Valar had included the contents of his Gringotts vaults.

His first contact with the ‘natives’ had not been exactly pleasant, he thought with a chuckle. Certainly not for the orcs who had attacked him.

Then he had chosen a random direction and walked for a few days, until he reached a village.

He had never been so glad that solving the riddle of the sphinx in his fourth year had strengthened his ability to speak Parseltongue to the point of giving him the ability to speak all existing languages. Including those from other worlds, apparently.

He had spent a few days in the small town and gathered what information he could, among other things that he was in the kingdom of Gondor, before heading towards the capital, Minas Tirith.

It hadn't been difficult to fit in, considering that Harry had always been highly adaptable.

He had got himself a job as a servant in the castle, even if he didn't need it at all, and devotedly kept himself inconspicuous whilst listening and learning.

The palace, and especially its library, had been a great source of information, just as he had hoped.

On the other hand, it had been a great relief to discover that this world was much less judgmental than in his own. Relationships between men were a rare occurrence, but not frowned upon as they had been in the muggle world ―Harry had long since realized that his sexuality was geared more towards his own gender. And wizards, whom he had discovered were called Istaris here, were few and highly revered.

Knowing that he no longer had any restrictions or expectations to meet had taken a great burden off his shoulders.

He decided that he would stay in Minas Tirith for a while, familiarizing himself with his new world and the people who lived in it, learning about the different races. And, when he was ready, he would visit the elven cities.

It had been two years since he had made that decision, two years since he had arrived in Arda. Harry knew that he would soon be leaving Gondor and with it Minas Tirith. There was nothing to hold him there.

The young wizard shook his head to push the memories out of his mind and closed his eyes, enjoying the caress of the setting sun on his face.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

 

Boromir was a man satisfied with how his life was. He was the son of the seneschal of the great kingdom of Gondor, a position that one day he would inherit.

The prince of Gondor had become one of the most admired captains and was the guardian of the White Tower.

He was a respected warrior and regarded as a man of honour.

At no time did it cross his mind that there might be something missing in his life.

Until he met him.

Boromir walked through his private gardens thinking about the latest news he had received. There had been an increase of activity in Mordor and the orcs now attacked more often.

It had only been a few weeks since he had fought alongside his brother and his men to win back Osgiliath from a new race of orcs.

These new improved monsters had dared to attack the old capital and some villages closer to Minas Tirith, and that had him worried.

When he decided to go out for a walk the sun had just begun to set, its rays bathing the gardens in shades of red and gold.

He walked to a small temple that he knew was hidden there and stopped at the vision that greeted him.

In front of him, sitting on a stone bench, was the most beautiful being he had ever seen, far more beautiful than any elf he had ever met.

For a moment he wondered if they might truly be elfish, but his round ears ruled that theory out.

He was a young man no more than twenty years old, with hair black as the darkest night that brushed his shoulders.

It contrasted sharply with his pale skin, which held a golden hue cast by the evening sun.

His eyes were closed, his long dark lashes caressing his cheeks, his features elegant and his face tilted up towards the sun.

Boromir ran his eyes over the parted pink lips and swallowed. Without realising it, he stepped forward and held his breath.

He must have made some noise because the young man jumped to his feet and turned toward him in a movement so fast he could barely follow it.

A pair of orbs greener and brighter than the most beautiful emeralds pinned him and he felt breathless.

For a second those eyes showed fear, of what, he wasn't sure, but Boromir immediately decided that he didn't like that reaction.

“Who are you?” asked the boy.

The captain was a bit surprised. There were few people in Gondor who did not know about him and, although it was true that not everyone recognized him at first sight, people who visited the palace usually did.

"I believe I should be the one to ask that, considering you are in my private gardens."

The boy's eyes widened and he hastily bowed his head in fear.

Boromir decided he didn't like that either, and not just because it prevented him from seeing those expressive green eyes. Such a beautiful being should not have to bow to him, much less be afraid of him.

"I'm sorry, Captain-General. I didn't intend to invade your space. I had just finished my chores in your gardens and thought to stop for a bit of rest. It won't happen again, I promise you.”

“What if I wanted it to happen again?” He asked, taking a couple of steps in his direction.

"Excuse me, Captain-General, I don't understand what you mean." Answered the young man whilst taking a step back.

Boromir saw complete honesty in his eyes and smiled slightly.

"It doesn't bother me that you're here, it just surprised me. I had never found anyone here.” He said before asking: “Do you work in the gardens?”

"Yes, Captain-General. I take care of your private gardens.”

"Sounds like a lot of work for one person."

"I'm fast, Captain-General." The young man replied with a strange glint in his eyes. Was that amusement?

“Why don't we begin anew by exchanging names? I am Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor. Captain-General of the Army, Prince of Gondor and High Guardian of the White Tower.”

That beauty stared at him, clearly unsure of how to react, and looked away before speaking.

“I'm Harry.”

“Harry? Just Harry?”

"Just Harry." The young man repeated with unexpected firmness before donning a perfect mask of submission again. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you with my presence, Captain-General."

"There's always some way to make it up to me." Boromir replied, approaching him slowly.

"Whatever you wish, Captain-General."

"Why don't you start by always looking me in the eye with those precious emerald orbs?" murmured Boromir, placing his hand under the delicate curve of Harry's pale neck and lifting his face until green clashed with gray.

"Yes, Captain-General." The beautiful young man murmured back, looking at him nervously.

"And I think we can put the formalities aside, at least in private." He said with a smile. "Call me Boromir and I'll call you Harry."

"That would be inappropriate." Harry replied.

“Why?”

"You are the Captain-General."

“Exactly. As Captain-General, can’t I ask the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen to call me by my name? ”He whispered.

"I… I'm not beautiful." He contradicted him softly, blushing.

Boromir stared at him in disbelief and was shocked when he saw in his eyes that he truly believed what he was saying.

“Of course you are.” He replied firmly. “Have you ever been outside Minas Tirith?”

"Not for long, B-Boromir." Harry replied.

“I have.” He answered, delighting in the sound of his name spoken by that sweet mouth. "I have seen a lot in my travels, in the battles I've fought. I have seen Men and Elves, Hobbits and Dwarves. But I could spend the rest of my life looking at you without ever missing any of that, because next to you even the beauty of the elves pales.”

Clearly, Harry did not know how to respond to that and, if his blush was an indication, he didn't take his word for it. Boromir decided at that moment that it would be his personal mission to make him see his own beauty.

Suddenly, Harry stared into his eyes.

"I beg you, be honest with me. What is it you desire from me? I know well what is expected from young people my age towards the seneschal's family, but I will not take my clothes off for a man just because he thinks he has the right to order me.” He declared bravely, his mask falling again for an instant. "You can throw me out of the palace, but I will not be treated like an object."

Boromir looked at him in shock. Who had said something like that to this beautiful young man?

“Is that what you expect when someone compliments your beauty? Who has done you such dishonour?”

"I have never suffered it myself, as I have said, I will not allow myself to be treated as an object and I'm usually good at remaining inconspicuous. But I… I know other servants who have suffered that fate.”

"I would never force you to do something like that." He whispered, getting angry at the mere thought of someone forcing this shy creature.

"So tell me, what do you want from me?" Harry asked quietly, his voice cracking.

"I want to win your heart, in the same way that you have become mine. Because from the moment your beautiful eyes met mine, my heart ceased to belong to me.”

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Harry looked out the window without really seeing anything. He felt lost, not knowing what to do next.

Things weren’t supposed to go like this. He was going to leave Gondor soon!

Instead, here he was, sitting in a luxurious room and worrying for Boromir.

He knew he shouldn’t be surprised, taking into account that he’d always been fast in becoming fond of people. That had been his biggest weakness during the war.

The captain had left ten days before with a good number of soldiers to hunr down a group of orcs that had crossed the borders and attacked a small village.

He knew Boromir was a good warrior ―everybody had heard about him­― but that didn’t stop him from worrying.

Everything had been so very confusing when, after their meeting in the garden, the man had ordered the rooms next to his own to be prepared for Harry.

Afterwards, the man had also ordered a whole wardrobe for him, despite his protests, and then some servants had brought them dinner.

Harry had barely been able to eat, too confused by what was happening. He’d realised the Captain wanted to woo him and he wasn’t a stranger to the term.

Harry had discovered that love at first sight was pretty common in Middle Earth and, although it made courtships seem very different from his world’s, Harry had eventually got used to the idea.

What he hadn’t imagined, even in his wildest dreams, was that there would be a man who’d want to court him. Now that he found himself in that situation, he wasn’t sure how to avoid it, or if he really even wanted to.

Truth was he felt very lonely in Arda. He missed his friends and, except for a few small talks here and there, he hadn’t really mingled with anybody since he arrived.

And Boromir was good company.

The man had treated him as an equal, not like a servant or a simple pastime, and he hadn’t tried to force him like others in his position would have tried.

That night they’d dined together and Boromir had bid him goodnight with a soft and chaste forehead kiss. Over the next three days, Boromir had visited him in his rooms whenever he was free.

At first, their interactions had been a bit uncomfortable, but not one day had passed before it started to feel normal, which surprised Harry. Maybe he’d integrated in Arda better than he’d believed if the situation didn’t seem so strange to him.

The youth always politely avoided questions about himself and directed the topic towards Boromir, who told him about what he’d seen outside of Gondor.

Harry had really enjoyed their talks and even the shows of caring that the man professed him; he wished all days would go on like those, at least for a time.

Once more, he found himself worrying about Boromir and felt like hitting himself. Boromir wasn’t Captain-General for nothing.

Harry knew the orcs were disgusting and vicious creatures, as he’d found out in his first encounter with them, but they shouldn’t be that big a problem for Boromir.

With a sigh, Harry resigned himself to keep waiting and gathered the runes book from the low table-top. He’d started it the night before in order to distract himself and then fallen asleep without finishing it.

Several hours later, when the sun began to go down, his reading was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in.” he muttered without taking his sight off the book.

As soon as he finished the paragraph he’d been reading, his eyes rose and he blinked.

His brain took a few seconds to process the image of a tall man with a handsome and noble face, dark hair and grey eyes.

There, leaning against the doorframe, not taking his eyes off Harry and smiling, stood the very reason of his worries.

“Boromir!” he exclaimed.

“Good evening, Harry. I hope I’m not disturbing you, but a servant said you wished to be informed of my arrival.”

“I was worried.” He muttered blushing a bit and standing up.

Boromir closed the door and approached, taking the book from him and leaving it on top of the table. The Captain raised his hand and moved a lock of hair from his eyes, settling it behind his ear and also caressing his cheek at the same time.

“There’s no reason to worry; I am a good warrior.” Said Boromir, his smile widening a little bit.

“That doesn’t make you infallible.”

“No, but I can assure you that not even death would prevent me from always coming back to your side, much less a handful of orcs.” Added the son of the seneschal passionately.

Harry blushed and removed from his mind the warmth he felt at the man’s words. He lowered his head to hide his blush and heard a quiet laugh as a hand raised his chin.

The young wizard found himself staring into the depths of intense grey eyes and he felt incapable of looking away from them even when he felt a hand reach out for his.

His hand looked small and delicate between Boromir’s strong hands and Harry swallowed when the man’s warm lips caressed his knuckles.

He was so distracted that he didn’t even notice the Captain’s confusion when he caressed the back of the hand, but no one could have missed the dark expression on his face.

Harry followed his gaze and his eyes opened wide when he understood what the man was staring at.

The scars on his hand, although faint, could be felt and seen as fine silver lines on his left hand, nearly invisible.

“Who’s done this to you?” he demanded to know with fury in his voice.

Harry tore his gaze away and kept silent, trying to think up an explanation that wouldn’t reveal too much.

Boromir was furious. He couldn’t believe anyone would dare hurt his Harry. He wanted to know who did it and send the guards to search for them so he could end them himself.

Boromir wasn’t stupid. He’d seen the signs. Harry was a warrior and, judging by the way he moved and the wariness and carefulness he showed, he’d been well trained.

But Harry was also a sweet, kind and intelligent young man and Boromir was, sincerely, incapable of understanding how anyone could wish to harm him.

The scars looked like words, even though he didn’t recognise the words or the writing, and that indicated the harm was done purposefully and it wasn’t an accident at all.

“Harry, who’s done this to you?” he asked again whilst softly squeezing the hand between his when the youth tried to tear them away.

“It’s not important.”

“Of course it’s important!” exclaimed Boromir, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“No, no it doesn’t.” repeated Harry stubbornly. “There… there are things about me… about my past, that you don’t know. Things you could hardly imagine.”

The youth took a tremulous breath and Boromir was left breathless for a few seconds by the sight of the shadows that sometimes hid in the depths of those emeralds.

The pain and horror visible in his eyes made his heart clench. And then there was the fear. Hidden amongst so many other emotions, but as clear as the first time he looked him in the eyes.

This time, however, Boromir could finally understand that fear. Harry was afraid of his rejection.

He didn’t know who or what in his past could have caused him that fear, who could have made him doubt his own worth, his beauty, his right to be loved; but if they ever crossed Boromir’s path… may the Valar have mercy on them, for he would not.

Until then, he’d just have to show Harry how wrong those people had been. Because it didn’t matter what he’d gone through in the past; Boromir would never let his heart suffer again as long as he drew breath.

“Harry, I know we still don’t know each other too well and that you don’t yet trust me much, but I want you to know that your past won’t change what I feel. I would like to know, of course, but I won’t pressure you. I’ll wait till you’re ready. Your past matters to me because it is what has made you into who you are now, but what really matters is the future we can build together.”

Harry looked him in the yes with an unidentifiable emotion and ended up looking away.

“I need more time. My past is… delicate, and it has not given me a chance to trust too much. But I’m trying.” He added fast.

Boromir nodded and smiled with fondness before kissing the scar on Harry’s hand. The youth let out a sigh before closing his eyes a second.

“Oh, how rude of me.” He said suddenly. “You just arrived and must be exhausted. Do you want me to draw you a warm bath? Or would you rather eat first?”

The captain smiled warmly and shook his head slightly.

“The servants will take care of the bath, Harry. Right now, I only want to hold you in my arms for a little while.” Answered Boromir.

Loyal to his word, the man grabbed his waist and brought him close till their bodies were pressed together against each other before hiding his face in his black hair.

Harry tensed for a few seconds before wrapping his own arms around the captain’s waist, hiding his face in his strong chest, and allowing his body to relax into the safety and protection offered.

The wizard marvelled over how relaxed the man made him feel and he, after a few minutes of silence, turned them around and sat down on a chair with the dark-haired man in his lap.

Harry didn’t protest the move and settled his head on Boromir’s shoulder. The warrior said nothing, but Harry felt him wince slightly and drew away fast, turning to look at him harshly.

“Are you wounded?” he asked standing up.

“I’m fine.” Muttered the captain extending a hand and trying to make him go back to sitting in his lap.

“I’ve notice you flinching; you’re hurt. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s nothing serious, Harry. An orc sword grazed me, it wasn’t even poisoned.”

“Let me have a look.” Asked Harry trying to keep control of his voice.

“Harry…”

Boromir cut himself off when he saw Harry press his lips into a fine line.

The youth was calm and kind, but he had a fiery temper.

The captain admitted he liked that.

The fact that Harry was getting calmer in his presence and acted more naturally was something he hadn’t missed and it made something warm and foreign settle in his chest.

“It’s just a small cut. Later I’ll go and see the doctor if that will calm you down.” He tried to convince him one last time.

Harry kept looking at him seriously and Boromir sighed. The captain started to take off his shirt and decided it was worth it just to see Harry’s reaction.

The youth blushed, swallowed and looked away whilst changing his weight from one foot to the other nervously.

Boromir tried to hide his smile, getting a chiding look for his little success, and finished taking the shirt off.

Harry looked at him and Boromir enjoyed seeing he was still blushing, until he saw the wound and his demeanour changed again.

With a serious face, the young wizard walked closer and focused on the wound, ignoring the thoughts crossing his mind at the sight of the marked chest.

As Boromir had said, the wound wasn’t deep and the sword hadn’t even torn the muscle. The wound was, more than anything, an annoyance.

The cut looked clean, but Harry knew the biggest risk was it getting infected. In Middle Earth, they didn’t have the resources of his world and people even died of it.

Running through his mind a list of potions ready in his pouch, he nodded to himself.

“Harry?” called Boromir curiously when he saw him take something off his neck.

The youth ignored him and, without the warrior noticing, used accio to find a bottle of cream.

The warrior watched the closed bottle with curiosity and Harry smiled a bit.

“It’s a poultice we use where I come from. It’ll keep the wound from becoming infected.”

Boromir nodded without asking questions, signalling he trusted his word, and Harry uncorked the bottle. Carefully, he scooped up a bit of the cream with his fingers and put it on the wound.

The captain clenched his jaw, but refused to make a sound, making Harry smile to himself.

A few seconds after the cream entered into contact with the skin, the man let out a sigh and his body relaxed.

Harry continued applying the cream with immense care until it covered the wound fully, creating a near transparent film that protected it.

Next, he used a little bit of his magic to stimulate the cells and make them regenerate faster. It wasn’t much, one would have to stand for hours watching carefully to see the borders closing, but it was enough that the wound would disappear in a few days.

“You’ll have to apply it after bathing again and then in the morning and at  night for two days.”

“You needn’t have bothered, it’s little more than a scratch.” Harry scowled and Boromir raised his hands in surrender. “Where did you get such a medicine?” he asked without hiding his wonder. “The pain has fully disappeared.”

“It’s one of the poultices we’ve developed with time.” Muttered looking him in the eyes.

“Do you have more of those medicines?” asked the man curiously and deciding to ignore that he hadn’t gotten a true answer. “And do you always carry them around?”

“Yes, I’m a bit, ah… paranoid.” ‘More like, level: Mad-Eye.’ “So it doesn’t hurt anymore?” he asked looking into his eyes for any trace of dishonesty.

“It doesn’t hurt at all. That poultice of yours is magical.” Joked Boromir.

Harry laughed with him, thinking about how right he was. Still smiling, the wizard looked into the eyes of the captain and let him bring him forward and settle him back into his lap.

Without giving a thought to his chests nakedness, he allowed him to surround him with his arms, settling his jaw on top of his head, and cuddled to him.

The cold started to make itself known and the youth, blushing, tried to pull away from the warrior to give him space to put on his shirt.

However, he staid still when Boromir raised a hand and caressed his cheek with fondness.

“I love it when you blush.” Muttered the man.

That, of course, made him blush harder.

Harry settled a hand on Boromir’s chest and caressed it, trying to distract himself enough to control the blush, not notincing the sensations his hand gave the warrior.

A strange sound escaped the man’s throat and the wizard looked up.

Emerald orbs crossed paths with intense eyes the colour of storms.

Without being conscious of anything but the closeness of their bodies, the emeralds descended to his companion’s lips and swallowed before licking his lips nervously.

Grey eyes full of desire followed the path of the pink appendage over the fleshy lips and the hand on the black-haired man’s back pushed him gently towards the captain until nothing but a few centimetres of air separated their bodies.

The hand that a few seconds previously rested on the youth’s cheek slid down to the back of his head and, for an instant, nothing happened, until the man bent towards him.

Those eye-catching green eyes surrounded by long dark lashes closed instinctively when their lips pressed together and his hands rose to bury in the captain’s dark hair.

Slowly, Boromir’s mouth started to move against his and Harry, feeling clumsy, tried to imitate the movements.

Harry wouldn’t be able to tell how much time passed before a tongue grazed his lips and run the same way his own tongue had followed before, asking for entrance.

The wizard opened his mouth a little, if in surprise or instinct, none knew, nor cared. Boromir’s tongue took the chance to enter his mouth, expertly exploring it.

A moan left his lips and the youth tugged lightly on the man’s hair with a hand whilst the other run down to rest on his still naked chest, to which Boromir answered pressing him harder against his body.

With insecure moves, Harry’s tongue started to caress the appendage in his mouth until he started to gain security.

His partner guided him back to his own mouth and, soon, they found themselves tangled in a dance in which Harry didn’t even try to gain the upper hand.

The kiss started to become more and more intense; Boromir’s hands run up and down his sides in a light move, lighting up his nerves.

Harry’s mind started to slow down and he began to be unable to think clearly.

It was that same realisation, the fact that he couldn’t think clearly, that shook him out of the trance. He was too used to needing to think clearly.

Harry broke the kiss and gasped. Feeling the proof of Boromir’s desire pressing against his thigh, he hid his head under his chin.

The captain breathed deeply, trying to think over the veil of desire that clouded his mind. With his chin resting on his beloved’s head, he closed his eyes and listened as their breathes slowly calmed down.

Finally, when it stopped looking as they had run ten miles non-stop, Harry looked up.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t right on my part to do something like that without asking first.” Muttered Boromir seeing an indefinable emotion in his eyes.

“Don’t apologise.” Whispered Harry pressing their foreheads together. “I… I liked it. It’s just that I, ah… I don’t have… I don’t have much experience in these matters.”

Boromir let out a breath he’d been instinctively holding onto and realised what Harry felt was insecurity.

“Don’t worry, you were fantastic.” He comforted. “But if you still believe you need experience… I can take car of that.” He muttered seductively in a moment of mischief.

Harry blushed and held his breath in anticipation when Boromir leant forward and pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss, taking pleasure again in his sweet flavour.

The youth let out the breath he was holding in something more like a gasp than a breath and Boromir smiled widely.

“I’ll go… I’ll go ask for a bath to be drawn.” Muttered the flustered wizard leaving his lap.

With a satisfied smile still in his face, Boromir stood after him and put his shirt on, watching him leave the room in a hurry.

A few minutes later, the youth came back in, looking more calm and composed, and told him his bath would be ready in a few minutes.

Harry stayed still, letting Boromir draw closer and place a soft kiss on his forehead before muttering a promise to wait before starting on dinner.

Feeling the bad mood he’d been in since he’d had to leave and miss Harry for ten days vanish for good, Boromir walked to his rooms, conveniently close to the back-haired man’s, to enjoy a warm bath.

And to get rid of a certain pressing matter insistently bothering him inside his pants.

The promise of a good warm dinner in Harry’s company, however, was without a doubt what he was most looking forward to.

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Harry stared into the nothingness sitting on the stone bench of the small temple whilst waiting for Boromir to arrive.

The wizard almost couldn’t believe that it’d already been a week since the captain had returned. The best week he’d lived in years.

The dinner on the first night had been calm, full of comfortable silences, innocent caresses and unimportant talks. Harry had almost had to force his companion to go sleep when he saw how exhausted he was after his travelling.

The rest of the week flied by, within moment full of silence and fond gestures, trying to get to know each other better.

Boromir was usually busy in the morning, trying to fulfil all his duties before lunch so he could spend the rest of the day with his young love.

Harry, on his part, spent the mornings taking care of Boromir’s garden. The nobleman had insisted Harry needn’t do it, but the wizard had argued that he liked taking care of the plants and needed something to do other than reading to pass the time whilst he was busy.

The captain in the end gave up, much to the wizard’s satisfaction, so he spent the morning killing his boredom in the gardens. Professor Sprout and Neville would’ve been proud if they’d seen his small paradise.

Of course, not all the merit was his, but it was nice seen the fruit of his labour.

The sound of footsteps made him look up and he saw Boromir had arrived. Harry waited for him and accepted a kiss to the cheek when he sat down on the bench next to him.

“Good evening, Harry.”

“Good evening, Boromir.” The wizard kept silent a moment, doubting. “Boromir, I have to… we… I think…”

The man looked at him seriously at the voice tone and waited till he spoke. Harry took a deep breath.

“I don’t think we should see each other again.”

The captain looked at him without a reaction and Harry started to grow uncomfortable.

“Why?” was the only thing the man was able to say.

“Because it wouldn’t be fair to you.” He muttered. “Because one day you’ll die.”

The warrior kept silent for a few more seconds, looking at him in confusion.

“I do not understand.” He said almost desperately. “Have I done something wrong? Is it because being the Captain-General is dangerous? Is it…?”

“No, Boromir, it’s none of that.” Hurried to interrupt him feeling an uncomfortable pressure in his chest at having to do this. “It’s got nothing to with you, it’s got to do with… with my past.”

Instantly, Boromir’s attitude changed completely and his eyes turned hard.

“Is someone threatening you? Did someone from your past find you or…?”

“No, there’s no one from my past in Arda.”

Boromir looked at him even more confused.

“I do not understand, Harry. Why do you want…?”

Harry sighed and looked the warrior in the eyes, the man keeping silent at his look.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Boromir, but you won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“Alright.” Sighed again the young man. “The Valar sent me here.”

The warrior looked at him in silence.

“The Valar… sent you to Gondor?”

“Yes, I mean, no.” Boromir looked even more confused. “The Valar sent me to Gondor, yes, but… they brought me to Arda, Boromir. I’m from another world.”

Harry stared at him, waiting for the moment when the captain would stand up and start to shout that he’d gone crazy, but the moment never arrived.

“Alright… you come from… a different world…”

“You believe me?” asked Harry, sceptical.

“I can’t believe it right now, but I’m ready to consider the possibility.” Answered Boromir. “Anyway, I don’t understand why we shouldn’t see each other again. You don’t… you don’t have to go back, do you?” asked the man.

Whilst waiting for an answer, he unconsciously held his breath. If Harry had to go… Boromir didn’t know what he’d do, but he couldn’t keep on living without him.

“No.” calmed him down Harry. “It’s not that, I… Boromir, my world is complex. There is a secret community of Men and other beings. They all have something in common: magic. The Men capable of using it are called witches and wizards, something like your Istari. The biggest difference lies in that their powers don’t come from the Valar, but from Magic itself.” Boromir was about to ask something, but the youth stopped him. “It’s something complicated to explain. Thing is, our wizards don’t live eternally. They are born, live and die the same as any other Man.”

“How do you know they exist if they live in secret?” asked the captain.

“Because I’m one of them.” He confessed.

The man looked at him open-mouthed, not knowing what to say, and Harry smiled weakly at him.

“But my case is somehow special, unique. You see, my world was at war and the responsibility to stop it was mine. There were three powerful objects that no one had been able to gather ever. I did, with the intention of using them to put a stop to the war. As no one had ever managed to do it before, I didn’t understand the consequences of uniting the hollows until it was too late. I just wanted to save my loved ones, or those left. I ended the war, we won…” Harry sighed and looked at Boromir, who listened attentively. “Some time later, in another battle… one of my friends almost died. I put myself in the middle and received the curse in his place.” Boromir took a sudden breath. “The curse should have killed me, but I stood up again. I can’t die, Boromir.”

Harry kept silent and waited for Boromir to process the information.

“Like… like an elf?”

“No. elves cannot die of old age, but as far as I know they can die of sadness or grave wounds. It’s difficult but possible. I, on the other hand, can’t die. It doesn’t matter how grave the wounds or the time that goes by. Simply put, it’s impossible.”

The captain stared straight at him for a few more seconds before shaking his head with a slight smile on his lips.

“Boromir?” called him the wizard in surprise.

“I don’t care, Harry, none of that matters to me.  I love you and I know you feel something for me too. We can make this work, I know we can.”

Boromir caught one of his hands and with the other caressed his face. Harry leant into the touch and closed his eyes with a sigh. When he opened them again, he was faced with the warrior’s smile. The youth sighed again, this time in resignation, and nodded.

Harry knew he should keep away, that he wouldn’t stand seeing Boromir die no matter if it was due to old age or the battlefield, but when the man leant forward and kissed him softly in the lips, he knew that didn’t matter any longer. He couldn’t keep away from Boromir, even if that destroyed him.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

After that day, it was like a dam broke.

Boromir had his proof that what Harry had told him was true every time he used his magic and the young wizard told him about his life in the magical world. He didn’t go into great detail about the war and Boromir didn’t ask either. The gondorian could see that the memory was still too fresh in his memory.

The Man had a chance to know the real Harry. Not the warrior, nor the servant. Just Harry. And every day he found himself more in love with him.

Harry, on his part, started to experiment new emotions. Despite never before having felt like this, he knew what it was. It was just a matter of time before he was ready to say it aloud.

Slowly, their relationship progressed and none of them could be happier.

A few weeks after their discussion at the small temple, Boromir introduced him to his brother Faramir. The Seneschal’s son had wanted to do it much sooner, but harry had insisted they should wait a while.

Surprisingly, Faramir and Harry connected easily and they both appreciated the other’s company, to the point that Faramir seeked him out often in his free time.

The wizard discovered that Boromir’s younger brother deeply appreciated the arts and the sciences and surprised the man with his advanced knowledge.

Boromir couldn’t be happier. The new friendship between his beloved and his brother had given him the chance to repair their relationship, harmed by their parent’s favouritism.

The soldiers under his command also noticed the change in the seneschal’s son’s attitude, although most of them didn’t know the reason behind it. Boromir was still a proud and brave warrior, but he’d become more understanding and less reckless.

Their relationship hadn’t advanced much in the physical sense, in part due to Boromir’s desire to have Harry understand he didn’t just love his body but everything that he was, and in part due to not wanting Harry to regret anything if they hurried too much.

The only bump in their relationship was produced by the seneschal’s disapproval. Denethor had made it clear to Boromir that he must marry a woman and produce an heir. Until then he could do whatever he wanted with whoever he wanted, but in the end he must do as he’d been told. His father hadn’t even deigned to meet Harry.

Boromir had been furious and hurt that his father wasn’t glad he’d found happiness, but he’d refused to let that affect his relationship with the young wizard.

It was then that Harry revealed him a matter that brought him great joy: when the time came, Harry would be able to give him an heir. Apparently, there was a potion that would make it possible.

However, that would mean revealing to his father that the youth was a wizard. Boromir knew of his father’s distrust towards the Istari and he was afraid to tell him. If Denethor learnt of Harry’s power, he’d want to turn him into a weapon for Gondor.

Now, Boromir loved Gondor and was completely loyal to its people, but that didn’t mean he’d allow anyone to use his little emerald that way.

“Boromir?”

The soldier moved from the doorframe he’d been leaning against, lost in thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright? You seem very tense.”

The warrior smiled tenderly at the obvious worry in the green-eyed man’s voice and nodded.

“I’m fine, my love.” Answered the gondorian taking pleasure in the flush of the youth at his tender words.

The wizard left the book he’d previously been reading on a table and focused all his attention on the man. Boromir could say he was alright as much as he wanted, but he could see the impotency and the sadness that weighted him over.

The youth thought for a moment about what he could do to calm the warrior’s stressed mind and soon he had an idea.

Standing up from the seat where he’d been waiting in Boromir’s rooms, he approached the man and brought him hand in hand to his room. The seneschal’s son looked at him in askance but let himself be guided.

Once the door was closed behind them both, Harry turned to the man who, little by little, had began to win over his heart, and shyly started to unbutton his shirt.

At first Boromir was too surprised to do anything. It was when Harry was already pushing the shirt off his shoulders that the Man finally managed to react.

Holding the wizards’ hands in his, he brought the to his mouth to kiss them without looking away from the youth’s eyes.

“I’m certainly not complaining, but what are you doing, my love?” he inquired.

Harry softly bit down on his lower lip, a habit that indicated he was nervous, before looking away.

Unable to stop himself, Boromir bent down to capture that tempting lip with his own teeth, receiving a delicious moan from the youth before him.

Gathering his courage, Harry settled his hands on the now naked chest of the soldier, softly tracing one of his scars.

“Lay down on the bed.” He muttered lightly pushing him towards it.

Wondering what his little gem intended to do, the soldier obeyed and arched an eyebrow in his direction.

“Face down.” He instructed with a blush.

Confused, Boromir did as asked, crossing his arms and leaning his head on them. The slight sound of the wizard’s robe gliding over the floor alerted him of the moment he approached the bed.

The bed bent with the weight of a new weight and Boromir startled when Harry sat astride his back, but it didn’t take him long to relax.

Soft and skilful hands started to trace circles and caress the tense muscles of his back. The smell of rosemary oil mixed with an almost imperceptible note of lavender reached him and Boromir felt himself relax more and more under the dexterous hands massaging his back.

The soldier sighed in relief whilst the wizard kneaded the knots on his back from a long day riding on horse.

“Faramir came by yesterday.”

The warrior emitted a sound from the depths of his throat to encourage him to keep on talking, too relaxed to do anything else.

“He believes I spend too long shuttered away in the palace, so he’s set on bringing me on a horse ride.”

“My little brother is a very intelligent man.2

“Oh, not you too.” He moaned.

“I think it’s a good idea, Harry. He’s right that you spend too much time hidden away in the palace. Tomorrow I’ll speak to my men so you’ll have an escort.”

“Boromir, it’s just a ride.”

“A ride in which you’ll probably leave the city. The forests aren’t safe, Harry.”

“Boromir, I can take care of myself. And your brother is a great warrior.”

“Either way, I’d feel much better if you were escorted.” Insisted the Man firmly.

Harry’s hands stopped where a second before he’d been rubbing the oil into the soldier’s shoulders.

“Boromir, what happened?” he asked softly. “What weighs so heavily on your mind?”

The seneschal’s son sighed silently at his little emerald’s perceptiveness and debated with himself whether to tell him what had happened.

“Boromir, I’m here for you. You know you can tell me what worries you.”

“I didn’t want to weigh you down.” Sighed the man. “In our last expedition, we found a razed village. It was orcs. We were too late to save them. And those beasts made sure not to leave any survivors.”

“I’m sorry, my warrior.” Answered Harry in a sad voice. “But you must not blame yourself. You do what you can. You can’t be in two places at the same time. You can’t save everyone.”

“I know.” Accepted the man. “But it won’t stop me from trying.”

“Of course not.” Agreed Harry with a slight smile. “Now relax. You’ll have time to be tense when you have to return to the battlefield.”

“You’re an angel. You know, right?” muttered the soldier turning slightly to look him in the eyes. “My angel.”

Harry blushed and looked away, incapable of standing the intensity of those grey eyes.

“I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you, Harry. Especially if there was something I could’ve done to stop it. Please, will you allow two of my soldiers to escort you and Faramir on your ride?”

The youth sighed heavily, but ended up nodding.

“If that’ll keep your mind from worrying.”

“It will.” Nodded Boromir.

“Then, yes. I will allow us to be escorted. But you’ll have to get Faramir’s approval first. Now, relax.”

Boromir nodded, satisfied, and returned to leaning his head on his arms, letting his beloved’s skilful hands take away all the tension.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

Two days later, Faramir was waiting for Harry in one of the palace’s gardens with the horses all ready.

The youth didn’t take long to arrive, dressed in black riding pants and a dark green robe with a hood that reached to the middle of his thighs.

Over it all, the young man wore a black cape with an emerald brooch and the hood down.

With the slightly long hair and his petit complexion, it wouldn’t have been difficult to confuse him with a woman.

Next to him walked Boromir, who held Harry’s small hand across his arm.

Faramir greeted them with a big smile and offered Harry the reigns of one of the most docile white mares.

“Are you sure you can’t come, brother?” he asked mounting his horse.

“I’m afraid our father requires my presence. Again.” Answered the Captain-General with a small scowl.

The scowl disappeared when two men on horse standing nearby approached them.

“Captain-General.”

“Harry, let me introduce you to Arborn and Tolan. They’ve fought several battles with me and my brother and they’re two of my best warriors. They will accompany you and make sure you’re safe. Arborn, Tolan, this is my angel, Harry.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lord.”

The mentioned blushed and hurried to correct them.

“Harry, please. Call me Harry.”

Both looked sideways to their Captain before nodding their heads.

“As you wish.”

Boromir looked at the two soldiers and his brother with seriousness before speaking again.

“I’m trusting you with my life, for I do not know what I’d do if something happened to my angel. Treat him as such and be careful.”

The Captain didn’t wait to see their reactions. He turned to the blushing wizard and bent down to press a chaste kiss to his gem’s lips before helping him onto the mare.

“I’ll see you later, then.” He said with a smile.

The four of them nodded and directed their mounts away from the gardens and through the streets of Minas Tirith.´

Soon enough they were outside the city and they spurred their mounts into a light gallop through the forest’s roads.

Harry and Faramir fell into conversation fast and, once in a while, their escorts participated.

The wizard took an instant liking to the lively and mischievous personality of Arborn and the friendly silence of Tolan.

When they’d spent little less than an hour in the forest, the sound of hoofs alerted them to the presence of someone else.

The guards tensed and the four of them looked around. A little while later, they were able to distinguish a strange creature.

Harry recognised it instantly, however, the others had never seen anything like it. The riders tried to approach and Harry galloped behind them.

Unfortunately they weren’t able to see more than a blue and silver shadow before it, apparently, vanished into thin air.

When the four of them reached the clearing the being had disappeared at, Harry was the only one to notice an eagle atop the lower branches of a fir. The youth winked at it mischievously.

“Did you see that, Harry? What creature was that being? I’d never even heard of something like that.”

“I don’t know, Faramir. I’m afraid it was so far I only seemed to recognise a simple horse. I’m not sure what you’ve seen but it must have been a trick of your eyes.” Muttered he innocently.

When they returned to the palace, Faramir recounted their encounter with the strange beast to his brother, still confused.

The Captain-General looked at Harry inquisitively, but he simply smiled mysteriously.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

“Did you enjoy the ride?” asked Boromir playing with a black bang of hair between his fingers.

“Aha. The forest is beautiful.” He muttered with his head laying on the man’s chest.

“No more beautiful than you.” Remarked the soldier. “What do you think about Arborn and Tolan?”

“They’re nice company.”

“I’m glad. They will escort you whenever they’re not out on a ranging.”

“Boromir…”

“Please, Harry. The orcs are becoming more forward. They’re coming too close to Minas Tirith. I’m afraid for your safety.”

“Boromir, I can take care of a few orcs.” Commented the wizard raising his head from his chest and looking at him in amusement.

“That doesn’t mean you need to.” Answered Boromir raising his head too to look him in the eyes.

Harry smiled. He had to admit it was nice having someone worry over him and who wished to spare him unnecessary suffering. The fact that that someone was Boromir made something warm fill his chest.

“I should return to my rooms.”

Harry bit his lower lip and leant his head back over where the warrior’s heart rested, making him stop when he was about to get up from the bed.

“Stay.” He whispered.

The Man looked down from his half-sitting position and his breath cut off when his grey eyes found those beautiful emeralds.

“Are you sure?” he whispered as if afraid it was all a dream that would disappear if he talked too loud.

Harry nodded and hid his face in the man’s muscled chest. Boromir leant back again, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and bending the other under his head.

None of them bothered undressing that night and, for the first time, Harry had a peaceful sleep in another’s arms. In the arms of the Man who, with patience and tenderness, had won over his heart.

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Boromir startled awake. What had woken him?

A whimper. Harry stirred in his arms.

With the little moonlight that came in through the window, he could see the youth was still asleep, despite the whimpers and moans that left his lips.

Harry was having a nightmare.

Carefully, the soldier raised the hand that had previously been wrapped around the wizard’s waist and settled it on his cheek.

“Harry.” He whispered trying to wake up the green-eyed man as calmly as possible.

“No…” his breathing picked up.

“Harry, wake up.”

“No… please, please. I’m sorry…” the youth’s words made something ache in his heart.

“Harry!” he insisted a little loudly.

The youth started to trash with more strength and Boromir was forced to restrain himself to stop him from hurting himself.

His eyes opened immediately and they fixed on the warrior, full of horror, pain and panic. And with no recognition towards him. The panic only heightened when he noticed he couldn’t move.

“Shhh… it’s alright, Harry, it’s alright. It’s me, it’s Boromir. You’re safe. It was just a nightmare.”

For a few minutes, the warrior simply rocked them, whispering in his ear calming sentences.

“Boromir?”

The insecure whisper of his name stopped him and, slowly, he started to release him.

“I’m here, Harry.”

The wizard hid his face in the man’s shoulder and the soldier felt the warmth of wet tears on his shirt. Softly, he run a hand over his back and waited till the young man run out of tears.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you up.” Finally said the green-eyed boy.

Surprised, Boromir drew back from his little one to look him in the eyes. They were full of pain and his voice was so devoid of emotion that it was like an orc sword run through his heart.

“Don’t apologise for something like that, my love. Never. I love you and if I can do something to avoid you unnecessary pain, even if it is just to wake you up after a nightmare, I will do it more than gladly.”

The wizard’s eyes filled back up with tears that the seneschal’s son cleaned before they could run down his cheeks.

“Harry? Have I said something wrong?”

“No. No, of course not.”

Harry smiled weakly and raised a hand to softly caress the Man’s beautiful face.

“Do you want to tell me your nightmare?” asked the man in a low voice.

The youth bit his lower lip with enough strength that it began to bleed and Boromir used a finger to clean the drops of blood.

“We don’t have to talk about it now, Harry.”

“Do you mind if I turn on the light? I don’t want to talk about it in the dark.”

Surprised once more, Boromir heard a strange word and saw as the candles in the room lit up in a slightly blue light.

“I still can’t get used to that.” Commented Boromir.

“If you’d rather…”

“No. no, it’s fine. It’s just… unusual.”

Harry smiled and Boromir smiled back at him. The youth sighed and cuddled more into his side.

“I don’t know where to begin.”

“There’s no rush, Harry.”

The wizard sighed again and leaned his head on his chest.

“When I was a child I had no friends.” He started. “Until I turned eleven years old. That is when I discovered that I was a wizard and started to study in the oldest and most prestigious school of magic. And met the most marvellous friends anyone could wish for.”

Boromir couldn’t help feeling a bit jealous of the obvious love that his little one felt for those people.

“My best friends were called Ron and Hermione. Ron was the sixth child of seven and came from a poor magical family, for which he always wanted to get attention and was very jealous. But he was brave, a magnificent strategist and loyal to his people. Hermione was an only child, born of parents without magic. She was very intelligent, almost a genius, although very authoritative. She was also very brave and loyal.” Harry sighed, his eyes were lost in the past. “We were always together, so much so that people were surprised if they saw one of us without the others. They called us the Golden Trio.”

Boromir smiled tenderly, noticing the amusement in his voice.

“We were always getting into trouble. Then the war started. Ron and Hermione stayed by my side. A year before the war ended, as we celebrated a birth, we were attacked and captured with another one of our friends, Luna.” Boromir’s arms tightened around his waist, but he didn’t interrupt. “They tortured Hermione in front of us. They wanted me to give up. They knew if I did, the magical world would follow. They began to torture Luna when I refused. I remember Ron begged me to do what they asked. Hermione and Luna swore they wouldn’t forgive me if I did. I didn’t know what to do. Seeing me doubt, they killed Hermione. Ron lost his mind. They left her body in the cell for two days. When He returned, there was nothing left of the Ron I had known. He offered to bring Hermione back to life if he joined him, and Ron accepted. There is no magic that can return the dead to life, and Ron knew it, but he had gone too crazy to see the truth: that Hermione was gone and she’d never be back. They gave him a knife and told him she would be back with my death. When Ron had the knife pointed to my chest, Luna jumped in the middle of us and tore it from his hands before using it to cut his throat. Luna and I were rescued two hours later, but it was already too late for Ron and Hermione.”

Boromir kept silent for a few seconds, his arms firmly around his beloved’s waist. The Man saw through the feigned indifference of the wizard and he couldn’t help a dull pain in his chest at listening to his suffering.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Hearing his words, Harry looked up. “Their fate wasn’t in your hands. Your friend fought for her beliefs till death and your friend, in his madness, only achieved to dishonour her sacrifice. Your friend, Luna, did what was best for everyone.” Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Boromir stopped him with a finger to his lips. “Do you believe your friend would’ve ever forgiven himself for hurting you, Harry? Don’t you think if he hadn’t lost his mind he himself would’ve thanked you?”

Harry looked at him open mouthed. He’d never thought of it that way. Ron had always been a loyal friend and he would like to think Boromir was right, but the truth was that he’d never know.

The wizard swallowed and blinked to stop the tears from falling. The guilt was still too fresh in his heart and the pain too strong.

Boromir could see all that in his eyes and cuddled him to his chest before pressing a kiss to his forehead. Enveloped in his arms, the youth sobbed until sleep finally took him.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

With one last look at the youth still sleeping in the bed, Boromir closed the door behind himself and found himself face to face with Faramir.

“Brother, what are you doing here?”

“I was looking for Harry. I thought he might like to take a stroll on the gardens. It’s a beautiful day.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible right now, Faramir. Harry is still asleep.”

“What were you doing in his chambers then?”

Boromir didn’t answer.

“We better not disturb Harry. He’s had a bad night and needs to rest.”

The Man was about to leave when Faramir’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Boromir, people are already talking. Don’t give them a reason to do so anymore…”

“What are you talking about, little brother?” asked Boromir with a frown.

Faramir looked around, making sure nobody that could hear them was around.

“I know in the past you’ve had… relations with some women, but this is not acceptable. If you really are serious about Harry…”

“How dare you insinuate…!?”

“…then you must act accordingly. You may be my brother, but I won’t allow dishonour to fall upon him because of your lack of patience. Harry deserves better than that.”

Boromir’s face turned hard and his eyes fixed on his brother’s.

“There is no reason for you to worry, Faramir. I would never dishonour Harry in that way.”

“then you must be more careful. Or make a public engagement. As I’ve said, people are already speaking.”

Boromir nodded, trying to hide his fury at the previous accusations thrown his way.

“As soon as I convince Father to allow it, Harry and I…”

“Captain-General!”

Both of them turned in the direction of the voice to see a soldier hurriedly approaching.

“Lower your voice. Are you trying to wake up the dead?” ordered Boromir.

“I apologise, Captain-General. Your father demands your presence.”

Faramir sent a furtive glance to Harry’s chambers that Boromir noticed.

“Come back later, Faramir, and let him rest.”

With that said, Boromir and the soldier left.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

“Have you already been to any of the city’s festivals, Harry?” asked Faramir that afternoon.

Harry finished unhorsing his mare and turned to the Man.

“No, not really. Why?”

Faramir watched him brush down the mare with a smile. Harry had taken a grear liking to that beautiful white horse that Faramir himself had gifted him.

“Soon the celebrations for the summer solstice will begin and Boromir always attends. I’m sure he would love it if you went with him.” suggested Faramir with some mischief.

“The last thing your brother needs now is for rumours about our relationship to spread. Especially with matters between you and your father being so tense, Faramir.”

“Oh, come on, rumours about Boromir’s mysterious love have already spread around the city.” Added the gondorian.

Harry frowned. That wasn’t what he’d expected, although maybe he should have, taking into account who Boromir was.

“I’m sure Boromir would appreciate your company. Let us worry about our father.”

“I will think about it.” Sighed Harry finally.

Faramir nodded, knowing that was the best he would get.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

Harry caressed the steed’s side and sighed before looking up. His eyes found Boromir’s and the warrior read the concern in them.

“You need not worry, Harry. We’ll be back soon.”

The wizard nodded and managed to muster up a small smile. Boromir caressed his cheek tenderly and leaned down to place a sweet kiss on his lips.

The sound of a pair of horses approaching made Harry look over his shoulder to see Faramir and Arborn approach with their own horses.

“You need not worry, Harry; we’ll be fine.” Arborn assured him with a smile that Harry couldn’t return.

Arborn and Faramir would accompany Boromir and would be part of the group sent to retake a small village close to Mordor’s frontier that had been taken over by orcs. Tolan, following the orders of his Captain-General, would stay in Minas Tirith guarding Harry.

“Be careful. Don’t take unnecessary risks.” Begged the wizard.

“I will make sure these two think before acting, Harry.” Promised Faramir with a warm smile.

Harry smiled back at him and allowed Boromir to kiss him one last time before getting onto his horse.

“You still haven’t told me if you will come with me to the solstice celebrations, my angel.” Said the seneschal’s firstborn leaning down on his horse.

“Come back safe and whole and we’ll talk about it.” was the answer he received.

As he saw them get further away on their horses, Harry felt a shiver run up his spine. He had a bad feeling.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

Harry run through the corridors, frankly grateful for his rooms being so close to Boromir’s own.

Tolan followed hurriedly, knowing nothing he could say would make him stop.

The warrior had gone in search of Harry with bad news. Boromir and his men had arrived back, but the Captain-General had been wounded in battle protecting his younger brother.

Harry felt his heart clench in his chest whilst different scenarios, each worst than the one before, crossed his mind at frightening speed.

It didn’t take them long to reach Boromir’s chambers, where they met with Faramir and Arborn. There were three more warriors nearby, but Harry only knew them from sight.

“Harry!”

Faramir had to hold him back by the shoulders to stop him from colliding with him and falling to the floor.

“How is he?” asked the youth looking him in the eyes with anxiety.

“The doctor is with him. We don’t have any news yet.”

“What happened?” asked Tolan calmly seeing as Harry looked incapable of saying anything at all.

“We finished off the orcs in one of the villages and we were taken by surprise by a pack of wargs. We lost several men in the fight, but we managed to put down the bastards. When we were piling up the bodies to burn them, one of the orc riders stood up and went for Faramir. He’d been feigning death. Boromir saw and went to help Faramir, but he was wounded. The orc sword went through his thigh.” Explained Arborn.

The wizard closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them again he saw the guilt the seneschal’s younger son tried to hide.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“If I’d been more aware of my surroundings…”

“…mayhaps nothing would’ve changed. You couldn’t know the orc was simply feigning death and neither can you know if that would have changed anything. It wasn’t your fault, Faramir.”

Even though he still believed it to be his fault, Faramir couldn’t help feeling relieved that Harry didn’t blame him for it. Nevertheless, even though a small part of him would like to think he wouldn’t, he knew his father would.

The wizard looked in the direction of Boromir’s room when the sound of some cried reached them and Faramir had to hold him to stop him from running in that direction.

The young warrior felt his heart clench at the angst in the face of the dark-haired man.

The sound of steps made them look to the door just in time to see the seneschal, Denethor, enter accompanied by several guards.

The man barely sent a look his way before demanding to be informed of the state of his older son.

“The doctor is still inside, my lord Denethor.” Informed him Tolan in a calm voice.

Denethor looked at his younger son with scorn and nodded at the guard. Harry took Faramir’s hands between his and clenched them softly to show his support. It must’ve been horrible to be treated that way by your own father.

The gesture caught the man’s attention, who demanded to know who Harry was and why he was there.

“Father, let me introduce Harry…”

“What right does he have to be here?”

“Father, Harry is…”

“I know who he is.” Muttered the Man with more scorn than he had directed towards his son. “Which does not answer my question: why is he here?”

Faramir looked towards Harry in time to see him look down and gathered his courage for what he knew was about to come.

“Father, it’s Boromir’s wish that Harry…”

“Boromir’s wishes cannot be taken into account now. Beauty blinds him, he believes himself in love. But it’s no more than an illusion. An illusion you must not feed!”

Faramir was about to protest again when Harry squeezed his hand once more, silencing him.

“Please, my lord, I only wish to know that Boromir is alright.” Pleaded Harry with humility.

“Boromir will be fine. Do you doubt his strength?”

But before the seneschal could add anything else, the doctor arrived with news of his son’s health and the Man forgot his worries about Harry. Faramir did not.

Unfortunately, the news the doctor brought weren’t good at all. The wound inflicted by the warg rider’s sword was poisoned. Boromir suffered from a high fever and delirium. They feared that, if the fever didn’t lower soon, the warrior would not recover.

Harry was stunned upon hearing it. The fear of losing Boromir stopped him from reacting. It was as if he was dreaming, a dream in which he could not move or talk. The wizard barely noticed when Denethor, despite Faramir’s protests, ordered him to be taken away.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

Tolan and Arborn, who remained unusually silent, observed their Captain’s great love with worry. The beautiful youth sat on a lounge in his room, his eyes lost. He hadn’t moved since they arrived and he had not reacted since they received news of Boromir’s state.

“I must see Boromir.”

The soldiers almost jumped at the sudden words before frowning.

“I’m afraid the seneschal won’t allow it, Harry.” Answered Arborn shaking his head.

“There must be a way.” Insisted Harry looking imploringly at them. “I can help.”

“Harry…”

“How?” asked Tolan in his usual calm voice.

“Tolan?” Arborn was looking at him with confusion.

The wizard hesitated. Boromir had made it clear a number of times what he thought of his magic. If Harry’s powers reached the seneschal’s ears, he would be used as a weapon. But if he did nothing, Boromir could die and that was something that Harry wouldn’t allow.

“I’m not supposed to speak about it.” He said with reticence. “Boromir didn’t want anyone to know…”

Arborn frowned at his answer.

“I’m afraid that’s not an option anymore in this situation we find ourselves at.”

“I know.”

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

“My lord Denethor, a servant just relayed that Captain Shrian is looking for you. He seems to have urgent news.”

Denethor scowled before rising from the extravagant chair he’d had brought to his son’s room. It better be urgent if it needed him to leave a delirium filled Boromir at such a late hour in the night.

He didn’t even bother sending a look towards his younger son, who was next to the window.

Arborn moved aside to let the seneschal and his guards leave the room. Faramir looked at him inquisitively, but he received no answer from the usually lively soldier.

As soon as the seneschal had left their sight, Tolan appeared accompanied by two soldiers that substituted the two at the doors to Boromir’s rooms. Tolan had been very careful when choosing them, knowing they needed trusty men that would not ask questions.

The soldiers closed the door, leaving themselves outside and leaving Tolan, Arborn and Faramir alone but for a feverish General.

“What’s happening? We didn’t expect Shrian back till at least one more week…”

“…which will probably be when he arrives.”

Faramir looked at them in silence, trying to understand what was going on.

“I don’t know exactly how much time we have, but we must act as though it is not much.”

“Yes, of course. Harry?”

“What are you…?”

Faramir released the air brusquely when Harry’s head suddenly appeared in the middle of the air. The youth’s eyes, however, did not leave the bed. Or, more exactly, the man laying there.

“What devilish evil is this?”

“It is not evil. It’s just magic, Faramir. And it can save your brother.” Answered Arborn. “Harry is an Istar.”

“Not an Istar, Arborn. Their magic is different from mine.” Answered Harry distractedly as he took off the silvery cloak and knelt besides the bed. “I’m just a wizard.”

“Different or not, isn’t that what an Istar is?”

“I guess so.” Harry looked up and his eyes met Faramir’s burning ones. “I can help. I know you have no reason to trust me after I hid this from you, but it was your brother’s wish that nobody know of my powers. Please, trust me just enough to save Boromir and I promise you will get an explanation.”

Faramir looked him in the eyes, pondering his choices. His brother was badly wounded, what harm could trying do? And he could understand the reason his powers should not be brought to light. His father would not hesitate to use him as a weapon to defend Gondor.

Looking Harry in the eyes, he knew he would’ve done the same in his place. And still would do it. If the existence of a wizard in the palace reached the seneschal’s ears… Denethor was known for his scorn towards magic and he hadn’t hesitated in trying to pass that hate on to his sons.

He would have been successful too, if not for the stories their mother told them when they were younger. Faramir didn’t remember much about her, since Finduilas had died when he was only five years old. Boromir was ten when she died and, some nights, he himself had told him those stories at bedtime. But that had been before he became a warrior.

If his father learned that Harry was a wizard, he would accuse him of having charmed his sons. However, whilst looking in the beautiful youth’s eyes, Faramir could only see the kindness, honesty and strange sadness so characteristic of his friend paired with a deep concern for his brother and he knew someone like that could never do as such.

“Do what you can.”

Harry nodded, relieved. His eyes went back to Boromir, who in his delirium had raised a hand in his direction. Harry took it between his own much smaller ones and felt the skin burning.

“First we need the fever to lower.”

“How? Nothing we have done till now works.”

The raven-haired youth felt around his neck for the mokeskin pouch he always wore. From there, he took out a box that he left on the floor before enlarging it.

Without bothering to look at their stupefied warrior’s faces, Harry opened the trunk’s compartment that he usually kept his potions at. In the pouch he only wore some very basic ones.

It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. A fever-lowering potion. Now he only had to get Boromir to drink it.

“Boromir, Boromir, can you hear me?” called Harry placing a hand on his cheek and the other on his forehead. “Boromir, you must drink this.”

A pair of feverish grey eyes opened, but there didn’t seem to be any recognition in them. The Man moved his lips, but no sound left them. Harry felt a dull pain in his heart, but tried to ignore it. It wasn’t the time for that.

“Boromir…”

“Let me help.” Muttered Faramir approaching.

Between the both of them, they managed to have the warrior drink the vial’s content before he started to cough. Rapidly, Arborn gave them a glass of water that Boromir drank with gusto.

“What was that?”

Harry looked up and his eyes found Faramir’s once more. To any other person, that question would be of no importance. However, to Harry, it meant a lot.

Faramir had trusted him, even without knowing what the vial held.

“it’s for the fever. Useful, but with a horrendous taste.” He explained placing a hand on the soldier’s forehead for a moment. “It’s already in effect.”

“So fast?” asked Faramir surprised.

The Captain copied the wizard and placed a hand on his older brother’s forehead. The fever was, indeed, lowering a little.

“Right, now the poison.” Muttered Harry to himself.

The wizard approached his trunk again and frowned. He didn’t know what the poison was made of and didn’t have time to study it. He only hoped what he was thinking of worked.

“Can you cure the poison?”

“I think so. If I can find… aha, here it is.”

Harry approached the bed again, but stopped when a pair of eyes the colour of storms fixed on him.

“Harry…” he whispered. “What’s happened? Where am I? The last thing I remember…”

But Harry looked to be paralysed and incapable of answering. His eyes did not stray from Boromir’s.

“You were wounded. You’re in the palace now. You had a very high fever and the doctor said you would not recover if it did not go down.” Said Faramir in the youth’s place.

“And what does he say now?”

“We don’t know. It’s Harry who managed to lower your fever.”

At that new bit of information, the warrior looked at the wizard inquisitively.

“I had to tell them what I can do. It was the only way I could see you.”

“Who knows?” asked the Man, worried.

“Only us.” Answered Arborn.

“Then it must continue this way. Nobody else must know of this. It’s too risky.”

“Do you take us for stupid, brother? We know what our father would do. None of us will say anything.”

Harry looked at Faramir in surprise. He hadn’t expected that, at least not before having explained where his powers came from.

On the other side, Faramir looked at the beautiful and surprised youth in those gorgeous green eyes and felt himself blushing before looking away and clearing his throat.

That seemed to shake the young wizard from his astonishment, because he soon approached Boromir’s bed again and placed a hand on his forehead.

“The fever is almost gone, but the poison still runs through your veins.” Harry showed him a small stone he held in his hand and gave it to him. “This should be enough to clear the poison.”

“It’s a stone.” Declared the Man rising weakly an eyebrow.

“It’s a bezoar. My people discovered that it could be used to heal most kinds of poison.”

“What do I have to do with it? Eat it?” joked Boromir.

“Your people?” asked Faramir at the same time.

“My people. I’ll explain later. And yes, you must swallow it.”

Harry couldn’t help thinking they looked agape like a fish out of the water.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

“We must leave soon, Harry. They must not find you here.”

Harry raised his eyes at Arborn’s words before looking back at Boromir and moving a strand of hair from his eyes.

The warrior had refused to allow Harry to heal his wound, saying the doctor and everyone else would no doubt notice if it closed in a night. Because of that, Harry had only been able to clear the poison and apply a cream that would keep it from any infection for some hours.

The gondorian read the worry in his eyes and raised a hand to caress his cheek.

“I will be fine. Soon you’ll be able to come back, and this time you won’t have to hide. But right now you must leave.”

“I would feel better if you allowed me to heal you fully.”

“That’s not possible, Harry. It’s too dangerous.”

“But…”

“No!” Bormir’s face softened. “I will be fine in a couple of weeks. You said it yourself, Harry. Besides, you’ve given Faramir that cream to keep infection away.”

The youth sighed and hung his head in defeat. Arguing would be of no use and Boromir could be headstrong like no other.

Harry leaned down to place a soft kiss on the warrior’s forehead and started to rise when the man placed a hand on the back of his neck and brought him closer for a real kiss.

When they parted, a furious blush covered the youth’s cheeks. Boromir smiled, satisfied, and caressed his cheek with a finger.

“Tolan, Arborn, make sure my little angel reaches his rooms safely.” Ordered the Captain-General.

Harry sighed. Again, arguing would be of no use. The wizard rose with grace from the floor where he’d been kneeling and, reluctantly, walked to the door where the two soldiers waited to escort him to his rooms.

“Harry,” Boromir’s voice made him stop when they were about to leave. “does this mean you won’t come with me to the summer solstice?”

Harry turned towards the man and smiled at him so sweetly that Boromir felt his breath leave his chest.

“I will go with you wherever you want me to, Boromir.”

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

Harry run a hand down the front of his robe with nervousness as he waited. The robe had been a gift from Boromir. The cloth was thin and luxurious, a shining green that made the green of his own eyes stand out. He wore black pants, high boots and his hair undone.

The wizard gathered his cloak just as someone knocked on the door and breathed deeply before opening.

The youth smiled shyly at seeing Boromir. The handsome Man looked at him with eyes filled with love and bent down to kiss his hand before offering his arm out.

Harry took the offered arm and both of them walked towards the Citadel’s exit to the city, making sure not to walk too fast. After all, Boromir wasn’t completely recovered yet.

Soon, the White Tree, dry and lonely but for the guards of the Citadel who protected it, came into sight and Harry could not help stopping in front of it.

“Do you know the legend of the White Tree?” asked Boromir.

“No, but I would not mind hearing it.”

“The tree has not flowered in centuries and it is said, when a new King descendant from the ancient and noble kings occupies the throne, the White Tree will flower again and the kingdom of Gondor will prosper once more.”

“Do you believe in it?”

Boromir looked at the tree with an unusually pensive look. Finally, he shrugged.

“One can never be too sure, but it does sound like a legend. The kings of old were lost long ago.”

Harry nodded. Boromir smiled softly and caressed the hand resting on his own arm.

“Come on, the party must be about to start.”

Harry nodded once more and, with a last look towards the White Tree, they both left the Citadel.

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The summer solstice celebrations turned out to be different from any other Harry had been to before.

The white city filled with color and sound; music and stands from travelling merchants livened up the streets and squares of the city in a way that it could only be compared to the market days.

Surprisingly, the summer solstice seemed to be one of those few festivals that both the rich and the poor people of the city attended.

It wasn’t difficult to find stands with the finest and most delicate cloths right next to stands selling spices and exotic foods.

Despite being accompanied by guards, Boromir was a familiar face and beloved by the city and people made way for him as if he were the king himself.

Fortunately, there were too many new things to see for Harry to notice how people’s stares followed them as they whispered between themselves about the beauty and bearing of the youth that had apparently managed to capture and maintain the attention of their beloved prince.

A brave vendor dared to approach them with a few shows of the jewels he sold and convinced them to stop at their stand. It didn’t take long for them to go on, but now the other vendors were bolder and the two men stopped before some interesting stands.

“The clothes are of the best quality you could find, my lords.” Assured them a vendor. “Silk from the Mirkwood elves, leather from Rohan, velvet from Rivendell… The metallic finishing touches are made by the hands of dwarfs from the Grey Hills. Do you see something to your liking, my lords? Any clothes you wish for, I’m sure I’ll have it.”

Harry run his eyes over the beautiful embroidery in the presented clothes. They were all beautiful… and expensive. Something that few people in Gondor could afford.

“What about cloaks?” asked Boromir.

“Of the best quality you will find, my lord, and for every occasion. Cloaks for travelling, celebrations, for everyday use…

“Show me the best ones you have.”

The vendor hurried to obey without hesitation, starting to unfold the best cloaks over the rest of the clothes. Harry watched with curiosity as Boromir run his eyes over them, stopping at a couple of them.

One in particular seemed to catch his attention, to the vendor’s happiness.

“Do you like that one, my lord? Without a doubt, your taste is excellent.”

“What is it made of?” asked the man.

“Mirkwood silk, my lord, the most resistant.”

“And the fur?

“Wolves from the North, from Eriador. Touch it, my lord. It’s soft as velvet. The clasp is dwarfish steel, engraved by their best blacksmiths. The matter is of the best quality, I assure you, my lord.”

Boromir nodded slightly, his eyes pensive as he caressed the cloth to check the vendor’s words.

“What do you think, Harry?”

The youth looked at him in confusion before turning to the cloak. It was a beautiful cloak, no doubts about it. In a green color that reminded him of the leaves in the Forbidden Forest, with the edges covered in a pretty white fur that looked warm and with a clasp in the shape of a bird in flight.

“It’s beautiful, no doubt about it, but…” the wizard hesitated a moment before continuing. “it does not look like something I’d have expected you to wear.

The merchant alternated looking between them, nervous and afraid of losing such a fortuitous sale, but the gondorian let out a low chuckle and shook his head.

“Try it on.”

“What?”

“Try it on.” Insisted the Man.

At the vendor’s and the gondorian’s insistence, Harry tried on the cloak. It was warm without being too much so and very soft. The clasp was not as heavy as he’d thought and it rested just below his clavicles. The only real concern was that it was a bit long for him, obviously made with someone taller in mind.

“It’s a little long for you, my lord, but that is easily fixed. I could have it ready in a couple hours.”

Boromir only needed to see him wearing the cloak a second to make a choice.

“We’ll take it.” Harry turned abruptly to look at him as the vendor gathered the cloak.

“I haven’t yet told you the price, my lord.”

“It’s not necessary. We’ll come by to get it before returning to the palace.” Decided Boromir. “I’ll pay you then.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

“Boromir…”

“I won’t hear a word of complain about the money.” Said the man with a firm stare.

“But…”

“Is it perhaps not to your liking?” asked the man with a frown.

“Of course I like it, it’s very beautiful, but Boromir, just the clasp must be worth more than…”

“You know I can afford it, Harry.” Seeing the youth was about to protest, the Man decided he needed a better argument. “Please, Harry, you know nothing pleases me more than being able to provide for you.”

Harry looked at him in doubt, but the gondorian’s stare was firm and honest.

The youth nodded slightly and a bright smile lightened up Boromir’s face before he turned to the vendor, who observed them with avid interest.

“We’ll return later for the cloak, if you can have it ready.”

“Of course, my lord. It will be ready when you return.”

After their unexpected shopping, the couple continued on their way, walking through the colorful marketplace and stopping every once in a while before the most promising stands.

They spent some time in the squares, enjoying the spectacles. There were elaborate puppet shows for the children, acrobats and contortionists, buffoons, poets, bards and false wizards.

One of these last ones noticed him watching and made a pretty flower appear on his next trick, extending it towards him with an exaggerated gallantry.

Boromir watched him accept it with an indulgent smile, his arm possessively around his waist. A lot of people stopped to admire the youth’s beauty, as much to the warrior’s pride as frustration.

The youth’s smile attracted the attention of a nearby bard, who didn’t hesitate to change the tune of his songs and improvising something hurriedly.

“His eyes green as soft buds

His lips pink as beautiful flowers

His skin pale as purity

And the hair as dark as the most beautiful night”

Boromir noticed the blush on his angel’s cheeks at the verses in his honour and chuckled, receiving a reproachful look.

“A gentleman as few there were

His virtues keeps and beauty admires

As with envy the others observed

His hands touch the most beautiful night.”

His eyes softened at allusion to himself as Harry raised his eyes towards him with a small smile.

They both continued on their way, but it didn’t take them long as they met Faramir.

“Here you are.” Greeted them Boromir’s brother. “I thought it would be so; such verses could only speak about one person.”

Harry blushed again, but smiled at the young academic, inviting him to join them. Faramir accepted gladly.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” He muttered taking out something from the inner pocket of his cloak. “I found this in a stand for you.”

“Oh, Faramir, you shouldn’t have bothered.” Exclaimed the wizard accepting the small package of brown cloth and unfolding it.

It was a beautiful hair clasp. Made of silver and bone, with delicate horse motifs, it presented a deceptively fragile aspect without being too ostentatious.

“I thought it would be useful for you to gather your hair while you work in the garden.” Commented the seneschal’s son with a slight smile.

“It’s wonderful, Faramir. Thank you very much.” Answered Harry raising on his tiptoes to place a chaste kiss on his cheek.

As soon as the youth returned to his side, Boromir placed his arm back around his waist without looking away from Faramir’s eyes.

The morning went by fast and without incidents. When they started to feel hungry, Boromir and Faramir showed him the best food stands and Harry delighted in trying out what for him were exotic delicacies.

It was upon stopping in one of those that a small commotion in a nearby stand caught their attention.

The vendor, a big burly looking man, held onto the arm of a boy around twelve years old. The little one resisted, scared, and held tightly onto a piece of bread.

Harry watched with wide eyes and, unconsciously, his hand clenched on the bigger one that held it. Boromir and Faramir followed his gaze and frowned at the scene.

Without changing his expression, Boromir squeezed softly Harry’s hand and directed them towards the stand.

“What is going on here?” he asked looking at the vendor.

“This small cretin was trying to steal from me.” Growled the man shaking the child.

“Stop, you’re hurting him!” protested Harry taking a step forward.

“He was trying to steal rom me!” defended himself the man.

“It’s just a hungry child.” Intervened Faramir calmly.

“I will pay for whatever he’s taken.” Added Harry.

The child looked at him with very wide eyes and the youth smiled a bit at him, but his smile disappeared with the vendor’s next words.

“Someone must teach this brat that his actions have consequences.”

When the vendor raised a hand to slap the child, Harry didn’t think before getting in the middle of them and closing his eyes, waiting for the hit.

It never arrived.

Upon opening his eyes, he found a familiar hand holding strongly the other man’s wrist a short few centimeters from his face.

Boromir’s eyes shone with fury, the lines of his forehead tense and his teeth clenched tightly together. If he had been able to look away from him, Harry would’ve seen that Faramir was in a very similar state.

“Raise your hand again, against him or the boy, and I’ll have you whipped in the square.” Threatened the man in a low voice.

The vendor, pale as milk, took a step back as soon as he was free of the grip of the seneschal’s son. It was clear it wasn’t an empty threat.

“I- I am sorry, my lords. I… I wouldn’t have… I…”

It’s not to me that you must apologize.” Answered Boromir coldly.

The vendor swallowed and turned to Harry, bowing to him.

“My most sincere apologies, my lord.” He muttered. “Allow me to compensate you in some way.”

“Your apologies are more than enough compensation.” Replied Harry in a low but clear voice.

“And that you let the child go, of course.” Added Faramir. “The guards need not be bothered by such a small matter.”

The vendor didn’t seem very happy, but he was too scared and relieved at not getting bigger repercussions to protest.

The incident had attracted the attention of many others in the marketplace, the whispers starting to spread rumors about what happened.

Harry flushed red when he noticed, but he showed no other reaction when Boromir and Faramir returned the bread the child had stolen ―a hard and moldy piece of bread that would probably end up feeding some pigs― before leading them away from the stand.

“What’s your name, boy?” asked Boromir after stopping to get fresh bread and some sweets for the child.

“G-Galeth, my lord.” Stuttered out the kid staring at the bread they’d given him as if he knew not what to do with it.

“Galeth. It’s a good name.” said Faramir.

“Come on, eat.” Encouraged Harry with a small smile. “You must be hungry.”

The child looked at the bread with hunger and a desperate desire, but he made no move to eat it. In its place, he lowered his head and muttered something none of the three men understood.

“I cannot pay you.” He repeated in a firmer voice.

“It’s a gift, Galeth. We don’t want anything in exchange.” Calmed him down Harry with his soft voice.

The child looked at them warily for a few seconds before his hunger won out against his wariness and he started to devour the food.

“Where are your parents?” asked Faramir.

“I have no parent, sir.” He answered without stopping eating.

“Who takes care of you then?”

“No one, sir.”

Harry looked at the poor child with compassion, remembering the childhood that was best left in the past.

“Boromir, can we do nothing?” he asked in a low voice.

The warrior looked away from his keen observation of the little one to look at the beautiful youth. His stare softened before he looked around and he called a couple of guards patrolling nearby over.

“Take the child to the Citadel.” He ordered firmly. “Have the servants feed him and prepare him a room. If anybody asks, say the seneschal’s son has ordered it so.”

“Yes, Captain-General.” Muttered one of them before placing a hand on the child’s shoulder, who looked at them with wide eyes, to guide him amongst the hustle of people.

“Father won’t approve.” Sighed Faramir.

“Let me worry about that.”

“Thank you.” Whispered Harry looking away from the now far away guards.

Boromir took one of his hands between his and brought it to his lips to place a short kiss on the back of it.

“They’re not necessary.”

Harry gave him a small smile and rose on his tiptoes to place a kiss on the edge of his lips, too conscious that they were in a public place.

Faramir, on his side, looked away from the tender scene and cleared his throat to get their attention. Boromir looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes.

“The show is about to start in the central square.”

The couple nodded and they went on their way. Near the square, Harry noticed that Boromir’s limp had grown slightly more noticeable.

“I’m fine, Harry. It’s nothing serious.”

“Boromir, you have barely recovered from your wound. You should not force yourself too much.” Protested the youth.

But Boromir insisted it was nothing. His only concession was the promise of returning to the Citadel if the pain worsened.

In the square, they met Tolan, who Harry didn’t hesitate to invite to join them. A couple of times, they saw Arborn amongst the people, in the company of a tall blonde woman.

“It’s his wife, Maina.”

“Arborn is married?” asked the wizard with surprise.

“For the last three years.” Confirmed Tolan in a low voice.

Their talk was interrupted when Faramir announced he was going to fetch some drinks and Boromir offered to accompany him, leaving Harry’s safety in the able hands of his subordinate.

“Tolan, could I ask you a favor?”

“As you wish, Harry.”

“There is a stand in the olive’s street that sells daggers and short swords. It’s possible you may know of it, his works are of great quality.”

Tolan nodded.

“A particular dagger caught Boromir’s attention.” He explained taking out a small bag of coins from the inner pocket of his cloak and offering it to the warrior. It was made of dwarfish steel, with a simple handle, but with small black amber beads incrusted in it. I thought it would be a nice surprise for Boromir.”

The warrior smiled slightly, something not very common, and nodded.

“I will take care of it discreetly.”

Harry nodded thankfully, unable to express it in words upon the brothers’ return.

Boromir offered him a cup of sweet fruity wine instead of the beer the other men favored and the youth accepted gratefully. The beer was far too strong compared to the version his people had had in offer.

The afternoon went by fast. The artist’s shows were impressive, be they acrobats, musicians or theater actors. Comedies, dramas or tragedies, the stories were captivating and reached the public.

It was getting dark when Harry saw Boromir trying to hide an uncomfortable wince as he shifted positions.

“Boromir.” He whispered placing a hand over the arms that surrounded his waist. “Let’s go back.”

“I’m fine, my love. There’s still time till the fireworks.”

“We can watch them from the balconies.”

“Harry…”

“Please, Boromir. You’re still recuperating and you’ve walked all day.” Pleaded the youth. “Please.”

Boromir closed his eyes an instant before bending to kiss his forehead.

“Alright.” He said pulling away and offering his arm out.

The gesture caught their companion’s attention.

“You’re leaving already?” asked Faramir with some disappointment visible in his frown. “Harry hasn’t seen the fireworks yet.”

“I’m afraid I’m a bit tired after this day.” Hurried to say Harry.

“We’ll see the fireworks from the Citadel’s balconies.”

“Oh, of course.” Sighed Faramir. “I can go with you…”

“It won’t be necessary, brother. Enjoy the rest of the party.” Replied Boromir in a firm voice. “We’ll return to the Citadel as soon as we pick up Harry’s new cloak, there’s no need for you to miss the celebrations.”

The young wizard sighed. He’d completely forgotten the cloak.

“I could do that, Captain-General.” Offered Arborn. “I still have to go to the market.”

Boromir accepted gladly. Soon after, he and Harry had said their goodbyes and were on their way back to the Citadel.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

Upon reaching Boromir’s rooms, which had some of the best views of the White City, the son of the seneschal ordered the servants to leave them alone.

In the balcony, with the starlight bathing his face, he couldn’t resist the temptation the beautiful youth posed.

Tenderly, he gathered him up in his arms, placed a hand on the back of his neck and brought him flush against his body to kiss him passionately.

Harry answered just as intensely, his soft and pink lips moving without hesitation against the warrior’s.

Their tongues disclosed an old and primitive dance that put their bodies on fire and stole their breath.

Harry raised his arms to surround with them Boromir’s neck, as the Man’s hands traced a path of fire up his back till they readhed the soft and dark hair.

When the need for breath made itself unavoidable, they separated slightly, out of breath.

“The fireworks just started.” Commented Boromir in a rough voice, watching the colorful lights bath the beautiful face of the young man.

“Yes.” Whispered the wizard without making any move to pull away, his cheeks reddened. “Kiss me again.”

Boromir leaned towards him, their lips barely touching and his warm breath caressing the wizard’s cheek.

“As you wish.” He whispered.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

From the stairs to the Citadel, Faramir looked up. It was not the fireworks he observed.

After Harry and Boromir left, he’d stayed a little longer at the festival, but it was clear it was not the same and he’d said goodbye to Tolan to return on his own to the Citadel.

Now he wished he’d stayed, if only to be able to ignore the pain that clenched his chest and left him out of breath.

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

“You’ll be careful, right?” pleaded that sweet voice.

Faramir looked at the beautiful youth, who watched him with concern.

When his father decided to send one of his sons to maintain the dominance over the old main city, Osgiliath, no one was more surprised at his choice than Faramir himself.

It was clear his father had wanted to send his older brother and favorite son, if to further his glory or to keep him away from the “distractions of court” no one knew.

Boromir, knowing his younger brother’s wish to prove himself worthy before their father and not wanting to leave Harry, had somehow gotten their father to send Faramir in his place.

“Of course. You must not worry, Harry; I’ll be back before you realize.”

However, his words didn’t seem to calm the wizard at all. Faramir turned to his brother, who stepped forward to give him a brief hug.

“Take care, brother.” He muttered clapping his back.

Faramir nodded, stepping back. Turning to Harry, the warrior with an academic’s heart tried to smile.

“Some would say you don’t trust me to take care of myself.”

“It’s in the orcs and their dirty tricks that I hold no trust on.” Replied Harry before stepping forward and hugging him. “Come back safe and sound, please.”

Faramir pressed him tightly to his chest, placing a hand on the back of his neck and the other on his back. He had to resist the temptation to bury his head in the silky black hair and he raised his eyes to the sky to avoid his older brother’s piercing eyes.

“I promise.” He whispered.

Having prolonged the contact longer than he should’ve, Faramir stepped away from his young friend, walked down the steps of the Citadel and got on his horse.

With one last look to the top of the stairs, where Boromir and Harry watched him from ―and much to his sorrow, still feeling a pang of disappointment that his father hadn’t bothered to show up to see him off―, Faramir spurred his horse on and left Minas Tirith.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

Harry watched sadly how horse and rider disappeared. Faramir, with his calm nature, his desire for knowledge and his dreaming spirit, had become a great friend to the wizard.

The youth could not forget all the questions the Man had had upon knowing of his magic nor the easy with which he’d accepted his nature.

If not for Faramir, Harry would barely leave his rooms or the garden, nor would he know what to do with the time Boromir had to leave him to take care of his duties.

Without him noticing, Boromir’s brother had taken a place in his heart and had become a constant for Harry.

None of that made it easier to see him off.

A servant interrupted his thoughts by bowing and delivering a message.

After escorting his sweet Harry to his rooms and pressing a kiss to his lips, the man left him under the protection and company of Arborn and Tolan before going in search of his father.

He found the seneschal in the throne room, as usual, and the old face lighted up at seeing him.

“Boromir, my son, sit down and eat with me.”

Boromir observed with barely hidden disgust as his father devoured a dish full of pig ribs, chicken and different cheeses.

“No, thank you, father; I’m not hungry.” He answered taking a seat in front of the man. “Faramir just set off for Osgiliath.”

“Let’s hope he’s at least able to keep order amongst his men.” Muttered the seneschal with a disdainful move of the arm. “But I haven’t asked you to come to speak about the disgrace your brother brings our family.”

Boromir gritted his teeth strongly to avoid saying something that could worsen his father’s mood more than the mere mention of his brother had.

“What for, then?”

“I’ve heard rumors. They say you picked up a child from the streets of the city during the festival.”

“That is true. His name is-”

“I don’t care what his name is. Get rid of him.”

“What did you say?” asked Boromir, trying to keep his temper in check.

Denethor stopped with a piece of rib close to his mouth and looked him in the eyes.

“Bring him back to the city.”

“The child is an orphan…”

“This is the Citadel, not an orphanage, and he is a thief.”

“He’s just a hungry child, father!”

“If we had to take on every hungry person in the city, there wouldn’t be space for them all.” Cut him off the seneschal in a firm voice. “And do not dare to raise your voice to me, boy, I’m your father!”

Boromir took a deep breath and clenched his fists under the table.

“If the boy hasn’t left the Citadel before nightfall, my own guards will get rid of him.”

“Father, please…”

“It’s already enough having to tolerate the presence of that… distraction of yours; I won’t tolerate you giving a home to a little thief under my own roof.”

“Harry is not a distraction.” Answered the warrior with a fierce scowl. “I love him, father, and I wish to marry him.”

A deafening silence fell after his words and the servants stood still, fearing the explosion that would surely follow.

Denethor, however, stayed very still in his seat, the food abandoned, and his eyes rose slowly.

“You love him?” he repeated mockingly, his voice rising with every word till he found himself screaming at his favorite son. “You obviously don’t know what you’re saying. You think you love him because he is young and beautiful? You think you love him because he lets you stick your dick into him whenever you wish to!?”

His last accusation was too much for Boromir, who jumped up from his seat, overturning the chair in the process.

“Don’t you dare, father!” roared the man shaking from rage. “Don’t you dare to speak as such about him! I would never dishonor Harry with such actions outside of the bond of marriage!”

“A bond you shall never share!” shouted the old man hitting the table with his fists as he stood up at the same time. “My son will not marry a vulgar servant, no matter how beautiful the people believe him. You will marry a woman from a good lineage capable of giving you an heir. Until then, you may have your fun with whoever you wish to, but in the end you will fulfill your duty.”

With that said, the seneschal left the throne room leaving a furious Boromir behind, not without issuing a last warning.

“Make sure to get rid of the boy or your prized servant will be the next to leave the Citadel.”

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

Boromir went to his rooms in search of Harry, profoundly shaken and furious over his father’s words. It wasn’t the first time he’d expressed his disapproval, but never had he done it with so many words or such vulgar accusations.

A servant directed him to his private garden when he found the rooms empty. There, sitting on the same stone bench of the small temple he’d been at the day they met for the first time, was Harry.

At his side, Tolan was the first to notice his presence. The man stood up silently to let his Captain-General take the place he’d been occupying next to the wizard on the stone bench.

Instead of that, Boromir placed himself behind and placed his hands softly on the shoulders of his beloved.

The youth turned his head to look at him with a smile that was replaced with a concerned look upon seeing his expression.

“Boromir? What has happened?”

The warrior observed the scene that Arborn and Galeth presented, the older one teaching the kid to catch frogs and laughing when they escaped.

With a sigh, he looked away from them.

“The seneschal had ordered that Galeth leave the Citadel before nightfall.”

Harry looked at him with wide eyes and swallowed.

“But… but he’s just a child…”

Boromir run a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“I know, but the seneschal will not listen to reason. If I don’t obey, he’ll send his own guards.”

Harry let out a shaky breath and placed one of his hands over the one resting on his left shoulder.

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know, my love. I don’t know.” Answered Boromir shaking his head slightly.

“If I may…” intervened Tolan waiting for them to give him permission to speak. “I don’t think you need search far to find a good solution to this problem.”

Following his stare, Boromir found himself watching Arborn again, who laughed as he kept the child from falling into the pond.´

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

Days later, Harry walked around the Citadel in the company of his two guards. Tolan kept his characteristic silence, whilst Arborn told him all about his wife’s happiness at having a child to take care of.

“Maina spent all day buying anything we might need and Galeth was wrapped around her little finger as soon as the shyness disappeared.”

Arborn had a wide smile as he thought of his family. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that he adored his newly adopted son as much as his wife.

However, Harry was distracted. The last few days, Boromir had been in a strange mood. Despite his statements that nothing else apart from Galeth’s removal had happened when he joined his father, Harry knew something else was gnawing at him.

The rumors extended by the servants weren’t calming at all either.

Harry stopped a moment in front of a window with views of the city, but his eyes rested further away, in the fields and forests that surrounded it.

He did not like thinking he was the reason for the problems between Boromir and his father.

Faramir, who he missed dearly since his leaving for Osgiliath, would have suggested a walk to clear his mind. That’s how he’d found himself walking through the Citadel in the company of his two guards, but such thoughts refused to leave his mind.

Faramir’s absence was most felt in moments like this when Boromir’s duties kept him away from Harry.

With a sigh, the youth kept walking, a new idea taking shape in his mind. He had to ask several servants before he found out where the Captain-General was.

“Harry, did something happen?” asked Boromir, saying his farewell to his companions as soon as he saw him close.

The wizard shook his head carefully and returned his kiss shyly when the Man leaned down.

“No, Boromir, nothing at all.”

The warrior nodded, relieved, and looked at him inquisitively.

“I was thinking of going for a ride.”

Boromir blinked a couple times before smiling.

“Do you want me to keep you company?”

“Only if you have the time.”

“I will always have time for you, my love.” Answered the man caressing his cheek. “Arborn, Tolan, you may leave; I will stay with Harry the rest of the day.”

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

Harry closed his eyes an instant to enjoy the warn rays of sun and the wind in his face. At his side, Boromir watched him from upon his horse with a small smile.

“Boromir?”

“Yes, my angel?”

The wizard blushed slightly, still not used to the sweet terms the man referred to him with.

“Do you think Faramir will be alright?”

“I’m sure he will be.”

Harry nodded weakly before sighing and removing those thoughts from his mind. They had gone out to enjoy the day and, in his case, to help Boromir feel better.

“I know these last few days I’ve been in a bad mood.” Started Boromir much to his surprise. “I’m sorry, I may have been neglecting you.”

“Not at all, Boromir. I understand these last few days have been… difficult.” Said Harry before sighing and choosing to be honest. “You’ve had an argument with your father. It was because of me, right?”

Boromir hesitated and that was all the answer he needed.

“It’s not your fault. My father is…”

“…difficult?” suggested diplomatically the green-eyed youth.

“…perturbed.” Affirmed the man.

A short silence settled between them.

“I’m sorry.” Muttered Harry then.

“Why?” asked Boromir, surprised.

“For causing trouble between your father and you.”

“Do not apologise for that. Not only it’s not your fault, it would’ve happened sooner or later. His sanity vanishes and with it the bond we shared.”

“Still, I am sorry. I know what it’s like to lose your family and I know it’s not easy, no matter the reason.”

Boromir watched him.

“Did you lose your family in the war?” he asked delicately.

“Yes, my parents. I was just a year and a half old when our house was attacked. They died protecting me.”

“I’m sorry.” Said Boromir. “I lost my mother when I was ten years old, but at least I have her memory. Faramir, however, barely remembers her.”

“I’m glad you had each other.”

Boromir smiled at his beloved.

“Yes, we were fortunate in that sense. Father was never the same after our mother’s death, so I sometimes feel that we lost them both that day.”

Harry sighed and Boromir looked at him inquisitively.

“It was not my intention to bring up such heavy topics when I proposed going for a ride.”

“And what was your intention, then?”

“Distracting you from your problems.” Explained Harry. “I wanted you to have a chance to rid your mind of all that darkens it lately.”

“Then let’s leave such topics and let’s enjoy the company. Your light is enough to rid me of all thought.” Said Boromir, getting one of those blushes that he so loved. “Come, follow me, there’s a place I wish to show you.”

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

The news that Osgiliath was being attacked surprised them in the middle of the night. At sunrise, the battle had ended and the soldiers, defeated, returned to Minas Tirith.

As soon as Faramir’s company reached the courtyard, Harry shot himself towards the tall and familiar figure of the gondorian. Faramir barely stumbled when their bodies collided and a pair of thin arms surrounded his neck.

“I’m so glad you’re back.” Muttered the youth. “I was very worried.”

Pulling away, Harry observed him, frowning upon seeing the blood on the weakest points of his armor, though none of the wounds seemed too serious.

Boromir, who’d followed at a more sedate pace, was the next to hug his brother, but he said nothing.

“They attacked from the water, from the only point we did not expect them to and we could not completely cover.” Informed Faramir. “A group came out of the water and before we knew it had dispatched the patrolling garrison. When we realized what was happening, boats full of orcs were arriving. Most of the men were not even ready, I had to order a retreat to avoid a massacre.”

“You did well, brother. Losing a ruined city is better than losing an army.”

“Yes, but will father think the same?”

The brothers exchanged a look charged with meaning. Of course not. Denethor would not think the same.

“My lord Faramir,” intervened then the servant who’d been waiting next to Boromir and Harry. “your father demands your presence in the throne room.”

“Relay to him that I’m on my way.” Nodded Faramir.

The servant nodded, bowed and left. But Harry couldn’t help protesting.

“You’re wounded. We should treat your wounds first, Faramir.”

“My father will only see it as further offense, Harry. It’s better if I go now. There will be time to heal my wounds later; anyway, none of them are serious.”

“But…” Boromir placed a hand on the wizard’s shoulder and shook his head. Harry bit into his lower lip. “Alright. But later you will allow me to use my gifts to heal you.”

Faramir nodded and, without further delay, the three of them walked to the throne room, where Harry stopped at the doors to wait for them. Even so, he could hear Denethor’s screams.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

At the end of the day, the gondorians got ready for battle again. At sunrise, the army would leave to retake Osgiliath under Faramir’s and Boromir’s command.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

That night, Harry could not rest, assaulted by nightmares where Faramir and Boromir died and strange dreams where rings whispered and a shadow grew. Not even Boromir’s presence at his side, caressing his hair to help him sleep after a nightmare, managed to rid him of his fear.

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Much to Harry’s relief and happiness, both Boromir and Faramir returned safe and sound from Osgiliath, tired but victorious, just too days later.

However, that was the end of the good news.

A messenger had arrived from the elvish settlement of Rivendell, sent by Elrond himself, convoking a representant from Gondor to his home for a Council.

Though the reason was not mentioned in the message, probably for fear of it falling into the wrong hands, Denethor suspected it had to do with the One Ring, since the lord of Rivendell had spent centuries without any contact with Gondor for that very reason.

The wizard’s worries were not assuaged by his strange dreams.

And that was how Boromir was called to the throne room by his father.

“…you will represent Gondor in Elrond’s Council.” Had finished saying the seneschal. “There’s no one else I would entrust this mission to.”

“Then, my lord, I must ask for something first.” Replied Boromir, his eyes cold as he regarded his father.

Denethor seemed surprised at his attitude, but he made a gesture with his hand inviting him to talk.

“Before departing, I wish to marry Harry.”

Silence fell over the throne room.

Denethor rose from his seat, furious, but Boromir remained firm in his place, with squared shoulders and a straight back.

Suddenly, Denethor turned pensive as he watched his prideful son.

“Alright…”

Boromir’s face lit up.

“Thank you, father, I…”

“…however,” continued his father cutting him off. “you will not marry until your return from this mission.”

Boromir felt his excitement doused, but he remained calm. The mere fact that he had got his father to accept was more than he could’ve expected.

“Until then, your… lover” pronounced the seneschal carefully. “will remain in the Citadel. I don’t want any distractions in this mission; it is too important.”

Despite wanting to protest that Harry was not a distraction, Boromir kept his mouth closed. It wouldn’t do him any good to protest when he’d already got what he wanted. With time, his father would have to see the truth of his feelings.

With a last respectful bow in acceptance, Boromir left.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

When Boromir entered his rooms and caught him in his arms before kissing him passionately, Harry could not say he wasn’t surprised, but the youth returned the kiss ardently.

Finally, Boromir allowed their lips to separate slightly and brought their foreheads together.

“What was that for?” asked Harry with some amusement in his voice.

“Marry me.”

The youth blinked, surprised at the abrupt proposal.

“What?” he asked, stunned.

“Marry me, Harry.”

“Boromir, your father will never…”

“My father has allowed it.” Interrupted Boromir, full of euphoria.

“Your father has… allowed… for us to marry?”

Boromir nodded before taking his delicate hands in his and squeezing them slightly.

Then, the gondorian told him of the conversation he’d had with the seneschal, about him leaving and their possible marriage.

“Father doesn’t want us to marry until my return from Rivendell, but I don’t wish to wait. Marry me, Harry, in secret. I promise upon my return we’ll have a wedding such as you deserve and…

“Yes.”

Boromir stopped upon hearing that word and a smile started to appear on his handsome face.

“Yes?”

“Yes.” Repeated Harry in a firm voice. “I don’t need a grand wedding, Boromir; I only need you. I… I don’t want to see you leave,” admitted the youth. “but if you must, I will first marry you under the Valar’s sight.”

Boromir kissed him again.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

“This is not right, Boromir; Harry deserves…”

“I know very well that Harry deserves more than this, and I will give it to him. Upon my return, we’ll have a proper wedding.” Insisted Boromir firmly. “Besides… what do a few months matter when it is already agreed?”

Faramir, however, knew his brother too well.

“You fear father will regret it and change his mind, right?”

Boromir clenched his teeth.

“But if you’re already married, there’s nothing he could do.”

“Please, brother.”

Faramir looked over his brother’s shoulder, watching Harry laugh at something Arborn said.

He wore a white robe with a foreign cut, probably from his home, and cream-colored pants. His long hair looked like a pool of darkness under the light of the setting sun, contrasting sharply with his pale skin and his captivating eyes that looked like jewels.

Faramir felt as if a hand clenched around his heart at his beauty.

He remembered how his face radiated happiness when Boromir and he confessed their plans to marry in secret before his brother took him aside to explain himself and he felt a knot in his gut.

He looked again at his brother, seeing in his eyes his hope and stubbornness and something in his heart broke.

With a sigh, Faramir smiled slightly and nodded.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

The ceremony was short, respecting both the gondorian and the magical customs, but at the end of it, two thin golden rings hung from the neck of both husbands.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

That night, the young wizard awoke suddenly in the arms of Boromir, their bodies intimately intertwined and his head resting on his naked chest.

A hand run softly through his hair and Harry raised his head.

“Boromir, did I wake you up?”

The warrior shook his head.

“How could I sleep the last night that I will see my beautiful husband in who knows how long?”

Harry frowned a little and the Man run a hand through the lines on his forehead, softening them.

“You have a long trip ahead, you need to rest.” Reproached him the youth.

Boromir just smiled before kissing him.

When they pulled apart again it was Boromir who frowned.

“What has woken you up, my love?”

Harry tensed upon remembering his dream. He knew the gondorian would not like it.

“Boromir, do you remember that I told you the Valar sent me here?”

“Yes, you said they had a task for you. That you were free to act, but that at some point you would be called to…”

Boromir trailed off, watching his expression carefully. Then his face closed off in a way that Harry had never seen.

“No.” he said.

“Boromir…”

“No, Harry. That is final. This journey is dangerous; I shall not put you in such danger.”

“Boromir, the will of the Valar cannot be so easily ignored. In my dreams…”

“No, Harry. Please.” Asked the man swallowing. “If the Valar want this quest completed, I shall endeavor to make it so; I will take your place.”

“Boromir, I cannot ask you to…”

“You are not asking, I am offering. Please, Harry, promise me you will stay safe.”

They looked each other in the eyes, neither giving in.

“You really will not allow me to go with you?” asked Harry in a soft voice.

“It is not that I don’t want you to come with me. There is nothing I want more than that; that is, nothing more than your safety.” Replied Boromir softly. “If something were to happen to you, I…”

The Man took a deep breath and let it out, shuddering. Harry caressed his shoulder before laying his head down on his chest.

“It’s alright, I am fine.” He reassured him. “I will stay here and wait for you to come back. But you must promise that you will, Boromir.” Said Harry raising his head again. “Promise that, no matter the dangers you must face, you will always return to me.”

Boromir looked him solemnly in the eyes.

“I promise.”

They looked each other in the eyes, a strange intensity passing between them, before Harry’s face softened and he raised a hand to the man’s face.

“I will miss you.”

“And I will miss you.” Replied Boromir. “I will miss your hair, your eyes, your smile…” said Boromir touching each part of him slowly. “the warmth of your body, your laugh, the way your breath stutters when I kiss you…”

And he did just that.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

 Boromir would have preferred a more discreet and less elaborate goodbye; just him, Harry and Faramir. Maybe Arborn and Tolan.

He would’ve hugged his brother, kissed his love until he stole his breath and got on his horse before galloping away from Minas Tirith.

As his father spoke of the honor it was that his son represented his city, the gondorian sent a forlorn look at his husband.

The mere thought made him smile.

His husband.

Harry was now his husband.

Denethor kept talking and Boromir made sure to wipe the smirk from his lips to at least present a serious face before his departure.

When finally the seneschal stopped talking, Boromir gathered solemnly Gondor’s Horn from his hands, strapping it to his waist, and started down the steps towards the Citadel’s courtyard. The White Tree shone under the sun’s glow and, for a moment, Boromir thought it looked full of life.

But it was merely an illusion; the White Tree hadn’t flowered in centuries.

Halfway down the stairs, Boromir stopped in front of his brother and his husband. Finally he hugged his brother, who whispered him to be careful and he’d take care of Harry, and turned to his beloved.

His angel was dressed in black in this occasion, with a robe covering his brown pants and high boots. He wore the cloak Boromir had gifted him in the solstice, green and with a clasp of a bird midflight.

His black hair shone under the little sun of that day, his skin pale but his beautiful green eyes firm as few times had he seen.

To his surprise, the youth extended a small package wrapped with rope. Upon opening it, Boromir found himself looking at a dagger made of dwarf steel, with a simple handle but incrusted with beads of black amber.

It was the same dagger that had caught his attention at a stand in the solstice but that he’d decided not to buy.

With burning eyes, Boromir hung the dagger right next to the Horn of Gondor before looking up to find those green eyes that pursued him even in dreams.

“Come back safe and sound, please.” Begged the wizard in a low voice.

“I will.” Answered Boromir.

And then he took a single step forward, till their bodies were almost touching, and bent down to press a soft chaste kiss to those red lips.

“I love you.” He whispered against his lips.

“I love you.” Sighed back his angel.

And just like that, the gondorian took a step back, forcefully dragging his body away from him, bowed slightly, and finished walking down the step to his horse.

Not long after, his silhouette disappeared in the distance.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

It had barely been a week since his brother’s departure and Faramir was summoned by his father.

“I have a task for you that I hope you can fulfill without bringing further shame upon this family.”

Faramir remained stoic at his father’s words.

“What may I be of help with, father?”

“You will get married.”

Faramir looked surprised.

“To who?”

“To that… catamite of your brother.”

Faramir felt all the blood in his veins freezing.

“Are you speaking… about Harry, my lord?”

“Yes, yes, the boy. You shall marry him, tomorrow, at sunrise.”

“But… my lord, you promised Boromir…”

“I promised him he would marry upon his return. I never said with whom. By the time he is back, I will have chosen a good woman for him.”

Faramir did not know how to react to what he was hearing.

“Father, Boromir and Harry love each other…”

“Then they should be glad that they’ll still be close.”

Faramir felt sick at what he was hearing. Was his father suggesting that he marry Harry just so he and his brother could have a dalliance whilst he found Boromir a woman of better breeding?

“What if Harry refuses?”

“You think that insolent boy is that ambitious? He should be glad I’m letting him marry my second son at all. If he refuses, I have other ways to deal with people like him. He can have my useless second-born but never my firstborn.”

Yes, Faramir felt sick.

“Now, leave. I have important matters to take care of.”

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

Faramir walked slowly through the corridors of the Citadel.

On the one hand, his heart was beating fast at the mere idea of marrying Harry. Of loving him for the rest of his life.

On the other, he knew it would be nothing but a farce.

Harry and Boromir were already married under the sight of the gods; their union would not be accepted.

Besides, he couldn’t do that to them. He knew how much they loved each other and Boromir... Bormir was his brother. His older brother whom had taken care of him when their father wouldn’t, his brother whom he loved so dearly.

No, he could never do that to them.

He knocked on a heavy wooden door and waited to be invited in before walking in.

Sitting at a table, with a book in his hands and the light of the window falling over him, was Harry.

“Faramir, are you alright? You look a little pale.”

Harry who deserved to be happy after everything he’d gone through.

Harry who his father wanted him to marry, if only to keep him away from Boromir.

Harry who he loved.

It was the first time he acknowledged it in his mind and it was oddly freeing.

“Faramir?”

With a deep breath, Faramir closed the door and stood firm, choice taken.

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Harry was pale, a hand covering his mouth, the book completely forgotten at the table. Faramir would not look away from him.

“Only my brother can protect you from him.” He whispered, looking tired.

“I must go after Boromir.”

Faramir nodded, watching the light come back into Harry’s precious eyes.

“Alright.”

“Alright? That’s all? You’re not going to get angry? To rant at least?” asked Faramir, looking surprised.

“What would I achieve with that? To alert the servants that I am escaping?”

Faramir felt his anger leave him at the tired words. Yes, he was right. It was no use that he rant and rave over how unjust this was.

“What’s your plan?” he sighed.

Harry hesitated, reaching for the book and standing up.

“I will gather my things and leave at night. I will go through the northern gate and follow Boromir. When I find him, I…”

Harry cut off there and bit his lip. Faramir nodded.

“I will give you a letter for him, so that he may read it from my own hand.” He said. “You will need a horse. I’ll meet you at the northern gate and-”

But Harry was already shaking his head.

“No, it’s too dangerous.”

“I could meet you at night and give you the horse…”

“I don’t need a horse. And as I said, it’s too dangerous. Especially for you, if someone saw you, you’d be in big trouble.”

“I don’t care, Harry…”

“But I do.” Cut him off the young man before his look softened and he took a step forward. “I am grateful for all you are doing, Faramir, I am. But I can’t allow you to put your already precarious position into more danger. I will manage from now.”

Faramir hung his head.

“So this is goodbye?” he asked.

Harry took another step forward and looked up into his face, a small mischievous small on his lips.

“No, Faramir; this is see you later.”

Faramir snorted before bringing his dear friend into a hug and inhaling the sweet scent that surrounded him.

“Tell Arborn and Tolan not to worry and that I’m sorry.”

“I will.”

But he couldn’t help asking one last question.

“How will you manage without a horse?”

“Oh, Faramir, I have something so much better. One day, I will show you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

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In the middle of the night, a shadow went into the forest closest to Minas Tirith and soon enough, two shadows left in silence.

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Sunrise came and Faramir presented himself to the garden his father had cited him to, dressed in his best clothes.

The gathering was small, just his father to officiate and a few nobles to stand as witness. Just further insult from his father to his least favorite son.

But time went by and nobody else showed up.

His father grew furious and sent some servants in search of the person they all were waiting for.

When they returned, it was with the news that the rooms were empty and the food from last night still cold and uneaten on the table.

Harry had fled.

Furious at his plans being thwarted, Denethor ran his eyes over everyone present until they stopped on person. His son, eyes full of love, stood looking unsurprised.

And the seneschal knew.

He would pay for his insolence.