Midsummer by Lanna Michaels

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Story notes: Written for the contrelamontre 45-minutes color challenge. 40 minutes, 51 seconds used. The color was white and had to either be an important part of the story or the mood. I did my best.
White. Pure. Virginal.

Boromir shut his eyes against the vision that was Arwen. Soon to be his Queen but, for now, he could safely look away. Aragorn had not yet appeared, but Boromir could almost hear him pacing in the antechamber. Aragorn was the typical nervous bridegroom, Boromir thought in a moment of lucidity, not ready to face the future for which he'd longed for longer than Boromir had been alive.

Arwen's gown shimmered around her, showing off her beauty to all who cared to look. The assembled throng took in a breath as one as she approached her place and turned to await her almost-husband. Boromir heard Aragorn mumble an elvish encouragement to himself as he began to pursue her, his wedding attire as fanciful as Boromir's useless hopes.

"They may look the picture of happiness now," Legolas whispered into Boromir's ear, his hand the sole thing keeping Boromir anchored to the present. "But their wedding bed will sour and Aragorn will go looking for someone else to fill it."

Boromir shook his head, careful not to draw attention to himself, knowing that none cared for the steward at the wedding of a king. "I-I would have thought you would be more protective of your own-," Boromir's words stumbled and Legolas tightened his embrace on his shaking friend, "of the princess." He didn't want to have to watch Aragorn take a bride, but he knew he could not look away. That would be noted and gossip would be spread. They would say that Boromir was not as devoted and loyal to his king as he proclaimed himself to be, that Boromir wished for the days when he would have been ruler of the realm and not her rightful king. Boromir could not allow that. It would be too much a betrayal of the facade he had worked so hard to build.

"There is little love lost between the Greenwood and Imladris, and you are a closer friend to me than Elrond Peredhel and all the elves of Imladris. Though I have been told that Elrond's people are freethinkers. Arwen may not mind you sharing Aragorn's bed."

"My head would roll for even suggesting such an infringement on the king's honor!"

"But he will know, Boromir. Someday he will. When you don't wed, what then?"

Sorrow pooled at Boromir's eyes as he thought of the conversations he had had with Aragorn about such a subject. "My heart is my own to love whom I wish, but...but my body is my king's to be wed at his command." Aragorn had resisted such a role, but Boromir had adamantly refused to seek a bride for himself and had placed the choice in his king's able hands. "I must marry who he says I will. This is obedience."

"Aragorn would not thrust you into such a role-"

"Of course he will. He must." Boromir vision blurred as Aragorn took Arwen's hand and led her before Mithrandir. "Legolas, for one who has lived his entire life in a royal court, you have a very odd grasp of politics."

"Elves do not marry at anyone's word but their own."

"I envy you that." Boromir was silent for a long moment, then laughed humorlessly. "Do you know what I want to do right now, Legolas?" Legolas' soothing hands massaging at his tense back was his only answer and Boromir bit back a sob. "I want to strangle the Queen before she can reach the bridal chamber and take her place for deflowering. My life would be forfeit for touching her, but for Aragorn to know...I think that one instant would be enough for me. For Aragorn to know the extent of my love, if only for one moment before the sword came down-"

"It is not good to dwell on such things."

"Then tell me, friend Elf, what shall I do when their children over-run the palace and every day I see my king happy with another? What shall I say when my wife asks why I do not find joy in anyone's company but my king's? Or when Aragorn calls for a song and I can think of nothing joyful or bawdy? He will wonder then, and I will have no words to give him, for I cannot be forsworn and I cannot speak untruth, not about this."

"You must live in endless hope, like all lovers."

"I've tried, Legolas."

"Why won't you let me tell him?"

"Look at him, Legolas," Boromir said softly. "Look how happy he is with his bride, look how he glows when he kisses her. Look at his soft smile, his shining eyes, and tell me he could ever shower me with such glances. I would only earn his pity. Tell me he would ever turn that voice onto me and speak words of privacy and I will call you a liar this very day."

"You do not know anything until you attempt it."

"And I haven't? Nights on the journey, enough innuendo to drown an ocean of lovers, and stumbles in the darkness. He isn't interested, Legolas. He doesn't want me. He wants her."

"Then let me tell Arwen."

"And have the pity of the women who shares the bed of the one I love? Or do you assume she'll share her husband with the dishonorable steward?"

"You have not lost your honor, Boromir."

"I lost it the moment I looked at him and loved him. Let him have his ignorance, Legolas. He is much happier with it than he would be without it." A passing servant offered them wine and Boromir took a goblet without thinking. "So let him love the White Lady. It is his happiness that is essential to the pleasant survival kingdom, not my own." Boromir's voice lowered even more and it was like he was reminding himself more than Legolas. "I must remember that."

"No one expects you to live without love."

"Legolas. Do you truly expect me to live with it?"

Legolas was saved from answering the unanswerable by Aragorn's raised voice from the dais. "Steward, a toast!"

Somehow Boromir put on a delighted smile and lifted his glass. "To you, my liege, and to our new Queen! May your love outlast Middle-Earth itself."

Aragorn grinned at that and kissed his Queen again, and Boromir died a little more. He could imagine his blood seeping out onto the white flagstones and bridal gown and cursed himself for his weakness.

So he took a sip of the potent wine and vowed to wait. Aragorn must never know.
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