Celeborn's wise, knowing eyes roved over each one of them in turn, observing and understanding all, yet lingering nowhere. Nowhere, at least, until his gaze fell on the troubled, even fearful, features of the Gondorian. The one who, unlike Estel, was a stranger to him. The one whose eyes held such sorrow, such fear and such compassion. It was all there, and so much more, floating like slivers of broken crystals within a pale green ocean.

Celeborn noted that the man could not meet his gaze for longer than it took to draw a shallow breath. He was well aware that the way Galadriel probed his mind must make him uncomfortable, because his beloved wife was far too knowing, far too forceful in her quest for understanding, to leave any of his fragile human defences intact. He felt a stab of sympathy for the man, and before he truly knew what he was about to do, his own mind erected new barriers for him, blocking his wife's invasion.

Galadriel stared at him in confusion, and Celeborn returned her gaze steadily. 'Let me, Beloved,' he told her with his mind. 'He cannot take this. He hurts too much.'

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, but understanding soon softened her features, and with a small nod, she allowed her husband to nudge her mind from the man's and to replace it with his own.

Grateful, Celeborn sent her a tender thought, and once he felt her completely removed, he himself spoke to the man. 'Boromir. Boromir of Gondor...'

The man's fearful eyes looked across to him, utter confusion, even a touch of anger, evident in their depths. No doubt he did not appreciate having yet another enter his mind.

'Do not fear me, Boromir,' Celeborn told him gently. 'This will not harm you, and I do not read your thoughts.' When suspicion came into the green eyes, he added, 'I wish merely to understand you.'

'Why?' came the unconscious response. Boromir looked surprised when a slight smile tugged at Celeborn's lips, confirming that his own response had been heard. 'I can speak to you this way also?' he asked.

Celeborn confirmed this with a nod. 'When the others leave, stay behind. I wish to talk to you. Please.'

Boromir neither responded, nor did he break eye contact, but there was a trace of curiosity about him, for which Celeborn was grateful; it might make the man more willing to open his mind.

The fellowship were soon dismissed and, one by one, they descended the many steps back to the ground below, each lost in his own grief.

Not one of them spared a thought or a glance for Boromir, and in a way, the man was grateful for it. To stay behind as he did would only make them more suspicious of him yet. Besides, he could well imagine that the elf lord now approaching him would have nothing kind to say to him either.

'There is no need to feel uncomfortable,' Celeborn whispered in his mind, causing Boromir to jolt. 'I told you that I wish you no harm.'

'Why should I believe you?' Boromir thought, turning around to find Celeborn standing very close to him. He could not suppress a gasp at the unwelcome realization of how radiant this elf was. Quickly, he shielded that thought, praying it could not be read.

If Celeborn knew what Boromir was thinking, his beautiful, ancient face did not show it. "Why indeed," he said, out loud this time, but softened the words with a smile.

Boromir frowned. "You enjoy speaking in riddles."

Again, Celeborn smiled very slightly, hoping to put the man at ease. "I do not think it so mysterious that I should wish to talk to you." After a pause, during which Celeborn directed Boromir to a seat in the far corner of the talan, he explained, "I know some of your fellow travellers well, while others are easy to know with just a moment's glimpse into their minds."

"So you do read thoughts?" Boromir accused.

"No, not thoughts. Feelings." Celeborn quietly enjoyed Boromir's confusion. "It is their feelings which define who they are, not the individual thoughts those feelings bring about."

"Why not simply look inside me, then?" Boromir inquired. "You must already know all there is to know about me."

"Oh no. You hide your feelings well, Boromir. So well, in fact..." Celeborn sighed. "I would not be surprised if you often cannot find your way yourself."

Boromir's eyes narrowed to hide the fact that those words hurt rather than angered him. "I am not cold of heart."

Celeborn raised an elegant hand in a gesture of peace. "I meant to imply no such thing, Boromir. In fact, the very opposite is true, and that is why your feelings seem to tumble together and try to push each other aside, while all the while near drowning you with their intensity."

Boromir averted his eyes from the much too knowing elf's face.

"Can you deny it?" Celeborn asked softly.

"What good would it do me?" Boromir asked, resigned. "You seem to know me better than I do."

Celeborn smiled gently, his eyes resting on the handsome, tear-stained face, half hidden from him by dishevelled strands of bronze-coloured hair. The handsome lips were trembling slightly, as were the lashes shielding eyes of a colour he had never seen on any of his own kin; he found them all the more alluring for their rarity.

Boromir looked up, almost stunning the elf lord with the intensity, even pain, in those exotic eyes. "I suppose to you, we mere men are but playthings. Foolish creatures to be observed with curiosity and pity." And to Celeborn's surprise, the man rose abruptly and turned to leave.

When Boromir was halfway to the talan's edge, Celeborn's mind called out to him, 'Forgive me, Boromir! I never meant any insult.' Motioning to the two remaining guards on the talan to leave them, he waited until he was alone with the man, before stepping closer and placing a hand on a shoulder, which predictably tensed under his touch.

Boromir's momentary indecision allowed Celeborn to reach for his other shoulder also and turn him back until they were once more face to face. "Forgive me," he repeated, very softly. "We do not deal with men frequently enough to recall how different we are in so many ways."

The dark, fathomless eyes were sincere and the voice gentle, and Boromir had no reason to disbelieve the elf, and yet... "You know Aragorn well, do you not?"

Celeborn nodded. "He is almost more elf than man in many ways." And with an unexpectedly roguish smile, he added, "And that is why he too is oft insensitive of another's feelings."

"I have noticed." Boromir returned the smile. In spite of his sorrow and worries, sharing this moment of understanding with the elf lord made him feel lighter of heart than he had in a long time.

Celeborn held the man's eyes, reluctant to release them, for he felt that he might never get this close to him again. Though why did he feel as though he should? That was what he could not begin to understand. Yes, the man was extraordinarily handsome, but for a being as ancient as he, as beautiful as he, and surrounded by the most radiant of the firstborn every day of his eternal life, that was not enough to draw his interest. What then?

He did not need to think too long on it - what drew him to this one was the abundance of emotions, churning within the man until they began to tug even at his own, stoical heart.

"What is it?" Boromir asked warily. The close scrutiny made him uncomfortable, especially as he himself tried very hard not to let his own gaze linger on the face before him for too long for fear of causing offence.

"I must ask your forgiveness again, it seems. I appear to be so consumed by curiosity about you, I forget not to be rude."

Boromir, once more being led to take a seat, blushed endearingly. "You are so curious about human emotions?"

Celeborn weighed his response carefully to avoid causing offence yet again, for he did not wish to alienate this interesting man. "I envy you."

With a frown, Boromir looked at the elf. "Are you saying elves do not have emotions also?"

Celeborn smiled wistfully. "We do." And after a pause, "I do. But if one lives for thousands of years, one learns to keep such a tight hold of one's emotions as to all but suppress them. It makes the time pass more easily."

Boromir seemed honestly stunned by the response. "You can live this way?"

Celeborn smiled mildly. "We must. Imagine what it would be like to be rapturously in love, furiously angry, torn by grief, and in an ecstasy of sensations, for every single day of many thousands of years."

Boromir could see the problem, but he could not resist teasing, "I imagine it would be magnificent."

Celeborn's mouth dropped open in surprise, but when he saw the smirk about the man's mouth, he laughed out loud, a warm, rich sound which resounded like music from the golden trees about them. It was infectious, and Boromir, even while his cheeks still shone from spent tears, joined in his laughter.

When they had both calmed and mirth shone only from their eyes, they still were seated beside each other on their ornate bench, and Boromir noted with surprise that the weight which had been pressing upon his heart for many days now was suddenly tolerable. The many tales he had heard of the healing powers of the elves, ever since he had been a boy, were indeed true then.

Celeborn was content to sit quietly beside the man, enjoying the other's company as the moon would enjoy to spend time with the sun. He felt they were nearly that opposite to each other, but yet of the same kind in ways he did not yet understand.

Finally, unexpectedly, Boromir said, "How long then does it take an elf to fall in love?"

His strong heart pounding a little harder, Celeborn wondered whether there was not some Elven blood in the man, for how else could he so unfailingly voice a thought lingering at the back of his own mind? He smiled. "No longer than any other, I fear. In that, we are as undisciplined as all the races in this world."

Boromir did not meet his eyes, but murmured, "Perhaps discipline is not the thing to strive for when it comes to love."

Celeborn's eyes moved over the half-averted face as he assessed the man; Boromir had spoken the words as though he himself was not convinced of their truth. "Perhaps you are right."

"But what else is there?" Boromir asked, his voice and intonation unexpectedly desperate as he faced Celeborn squarely. "When one is doomed to love unwisely always..."

"Unwisely?" Celeborn asked, intrigued. "Is wisdom not as out of place beside love as discipline?"

Boromir's lips parted, but he changed his mind before he could speak. "It is my turn to beg your forgiveness, my Lord."

"No, please." Celeborn laid his hand on the man's arm and, to his surprise, found it trembling. "Do not."

Boromir gazed at him, and though Celeborn wished to ask what he had meant to say, something about the haunted look in the man's eyes made him hold his tongue. This strong, proud warrior... he seemed so fragile to him.

"I should go," Boromir said, and rose.

Celeborn did not argue or try to stop him, but he slowly walked alongside Boromir, and when they reached the edge of the talan, he laid a hand on Boromir's shoulder. "Might I spend more time with you tomorrow, Boromir? I find I greatly enjoy your company."

A light blush made its way onto the man's face. "If you wish, my Lord."

"Do you wish it?" Celeborn asked, praying that the man would agree.

Boromir nodded, and a quick smile flitted about his lips.

Celeborn returned it. "Good. Once you have rested, come to the small bridge near the pavilion where you and your companions are bedded. I will know when you are there."

"How..." Boromir began, but then smiled. "Of course. Until then, my Lord."

Celeborn smiled his farewell, and Boromir turned and began his descent before Celeborn could forget himself and beg the man not to go, but stay with him instead.

Galadriel had retired to her bed already, for which Celeborn was grateful. Though it had not happened in centuries, he remembered all too well that when he found his normally disciplined mind such a jumble of thoughts and feelings, he was poor company indeed.

He decided to go for a midnight stroll through his realm before retiring, and as he walked and tried to make sense of himself, he could not help but be amused at his own foolishness. How ironic it was that he should be kept awake like this by the very thing he had only a short while declared himself free of? Would the young Gondorian laugh at him if he knew? Probably.

When Celeborn had finally managed to settle his mind enough so he could rest for some hours at least, he returned to his private talan to avoid disturbing Galadriel. And while sleep was not far off, the minutes spent waiting for it were filled with a vision of stormy green eyes mocking him, though gently.

It was still not light when Boromir awoke, and for some moments, he could not fathom where he was. When the serenity of the golden wood settled on his weary bones like a soothing balm, and awareness that they were, at least for a short while, relatively safe, his very next thought was of the lord of this realm. He ignored the brief flaring up of warmth in his breast at the memory of the previous night's conversation, but it was enough to free him from the last vestiges of sleep and jolt him wide awake.

Had Celeborn asked for his company again this day? Or had he dreamed that? No, Boromir thought. The invitation had been quite real, much as he could not fathom a reason for it. He had already risen to his feet and smoothed out his rumpled clothes when he realized that it was far too early to keep the vague appointment made between them. But after some hesitation, Boromir decided that sleep would elude him for the remainder of the night, so he might as well go for a walk. That his walk would take him past the bridge Celeborn had mentioned was nothing more than a coincidence.

Celeborn jolted awake and immediately knew from the direction of the moonlight outside that he had barely rested four hours. He frowned, but then a smile lit his features, and he rose from his bed. Pausing only to wrap a light silver mantle around his broad shoulders, he made his way back down to the forest below, well aware that he was not the only one struggling to find rest this night.

When he was near the small bridge and sensed the other presence there, he sent a quick thought ahead. 'Good morning, Boromir.'

The hesitant thought returning to him was closer to a simple 'oh' than anything coherent, and had Celeborn smiling when he appeared by the bridge to see the man stand on the other side of the river, one hand on the rail, clearly unsure of whether to cross or not.

"Why are you over there?" Celeborn called out, taking a few steps towards the man.

Boromir, suddenly feeling foolish, began to walk across, chuckling. "I am not certain, to be honest." Once they stood before one another in the centre of the bridge, he added, "I could not sleep, and my path took me this way, though I was unsure whether to linger."

Celeborn regarded Boromir kindly. "Most find the stillness of these woods conducive to their rest. What is it that keeps you awake?" A trace of a blush settled on the man's cheek, and Celeborn, intrigued, raised an eyebrow. But he decided to put the man at ease rather than add to his embarrassment. "To be truthful, I too had trouble sleeping this night," he confided.

"Truly?" Boromir asked. With a smirk, he added, "I am told that most find the stillness of these woods conducive to their rest. Why not their lord?"

Celeborn chuckled warmly. His eyes tracked a strand of hair caught on Boromir's lashes until the breeze blew it back from the broad forehead, and he admitted, "He has much to ponder, I fear."

Boromir nodded. "There must be many matters occupying the mind of one in charge of such a wondrous place."

"Ah, but it is not administrative business that keeps me awake." Celeborn was unsure why he was walking down this path, but his speech seemed to have decided not to listen to his better - or at least wiser - judgement.

Boromir's lips parted to speak, but closed again, and Celeborn's eyes followed the quick movement of the man's tongue as it nervously swiped across the smoothly curving lower lip. "Perhaps I was simply thirsty," Celeborn suggested lightly, but the huskiness in his voice proved that the man's unconsciously erotic gesture had affected him.

Surprisingly, Boromir's response was barely above a whisper. "The stream looks as crystal-clear as any carafe of spring water I have ever seen."

"Aye, so it is." Celeborn's eyes issued an invitation before he turned and made his way to the end of the bridge and down to the stream, pleased that Boromir was following closely without hesitation. He bent down and scooped some of the fresh water into his cupped hands. As he drank, he watched Boromir regarding him with an inscrutable expression, though he thought he saw a flicker of longing in those eyes; eyes nearly silver in the dying moonlight.

"What about you, Boromir?" Celeborn asked softly, and took the rapid gulping movement of the man's throat as an affirmative. Without thinking - something of a pattern with him lately - he bent and filled his hands once more, and by the time he held out the water to Boromir, it was too late to consider the inappropriate intimacy of the gesture.

To Celeborn's great wonder though, Boromir took a step closer, and with lowered eyes leaned to drink directly from the elf's hands. As the hair falling over his eyes tickled the fleshy curve of Celeborn's palm, the elf lord shivered, and his hands began to tremble.

Instinctively, Boromir reached to place his own slender hands beneath Celeborn's to save the water from needlessly being spilled, and both of them froze at once.

Boromir's eyes widened as he looked at Celeborn, and it was as if he'd suddenly woken from a very deep dream. What had possessed him to-- He straightened up quickly, ignoring the water now trickling, after all, through their fingers to nourish the forest floor. Swallowing frantically, Boromir attempted to clear his mouth of the honey-sweetness of the libation, even while silently pondering how it could be that simple water tasted so sweet from the elf's hands.

"Boromir..." Celeborn whispered, his voice huskier than before.

The man wetted his lips until they shone with moisture, but it was no use. He could not speak a word. He could not break eye contact or move. And the timbre of the elf lords voice - the way he spoke his name in that voice...

"So I was not the first to rise this morning."

Boromir closed his eyes in mortification and cursed the intruder to the far reaches of Arda.

Celeborn growled low in his throat and, inappropriate as it was, the sound made Boromir shiver and open his eyes once more, to find the elf lord's eyes boring into him. It was as though they made a silent agreement that the interruption was temporary only.

The intruder's amused snort made Boromir uncomfortably aware that water was still trickling from his chin, and he swiped at it furiously, even as he turned to face Aragorn. "Was there something you wanted, Aragorn?" he asked more bitterly than was polite.

Celeborn noted with very great interest how annoyed Boromir was about the interruption, and it sent a pleasant shiver over his skin. "Estel," he said, facing his future grandson-in-law also, admirably faking a smile.

"Good morning, my Lord. Boromir." Aragorn nodded politely to Celeborn, but the irritating smirk had not left his face by the time he faced Boromir once more and said, "Something I wanted, Boromir? Oh no, I believe I already have everything I desire."

Boromir flushed crimson to the roots of his hair, and bit his tongue to prevent himself from snarling. He had got used to the idea of the elf lord being inside his mind - in fact, he was beginning to find it soothing - but he could not bear the thought that he was obvious enough for Aragorn to see right through him.

Celeborn half turned so Aragorn would not be able to see his lips as he whispered to Boromir, "As I said, most insensitive."

Boromir snickered, and the amused sparkle in his eyes when they met Celeborn's made the elf lord want to draw on the full power of his magic heritage and send Aragorn clear across Lothlorien to someplace far, far away. But as neither Galadriel nor his granddaughter would appreciate the gesture, he turned instead and smiled lightly at Aragorn, even while his dark eyes stared at the man fiercely enough to bring anyone to his knees in fright. "Well, Aragorn? What is your business?"

To Celeborn's delight, and to Boromir's as well, Aragorn seemed to have lost his speech, proving beyond doubt that the sole purpose of his untimely appearance had been to be, indeed, untimely, and that he had no excuse at hand whatsoever. To his credit, he managed somewhat weakly, "I could not sleep, my Lord."

"Ah, a common ailment this night." Celeborn frowned as though considering the problem. "Perhaps you would like to request some poppy tincture from Aronidas come bedtime again? It is most effective."

"Yes," Aragorn muttered to Boromir's delight. "I will. Thank you, my Lord. Excuse me." And finally, he retreated.

Boromir looked at Celeborn in mingled awe and gratitude for putting the rather too self-satisfied thorn in his side into his place and, after a minute, laughter bubbled up in both of them at the same instant, until Celeborn's expression grew serious once more.

"Will you dine with me tonight, Boromir?" he asked unexpectedly.

Swallowing hard, Boromir focussed on the elf's eyes looking into him so deeply that he felt naked. He was well aware that at the same time, Celeborn refrained entirely from entering his mind. The dark eyes which contrasted so stunningly with the pale silver of the elf's hair captured him in their depths as surely as if they were shackles, and he felt his knees weaken.

Celeborn smiled and said softly, "I can assure you that no one will intrude."

Now Boromir's knees truly did give in, and he only managed to cover up his loss of balance by pretending to lean forward to flick some nonexistent dirt from his long vest.

Celeborn was not fooled, of course. The flush of the man's cheeks was all too clear now that the sun was rising quickly, and he reached to steady Boromir with a firm grip around his biceps.

Gasping, Boromir looked up, and his lips formed the words before he could give it another thought. "Yes, my Lord. I would love to."

Celeborn's sensuous mouth curved up in a smile as he nodded. "I will call on you then, at sunset?"

Boromir had expected to be merely given instructions to the elf's talan, or to be told he would have someone pick him up, and his surprise must have been evident in his stunned expression, because when Celeborn took his leave, he walked closely past the man, and the tantalizing whisper of his breath lingered on for some time after Boromir had absorbed the soft words, "I can hardly wait," breathed close to his ear in passing.

The entire day passed in a haze, or so it seemed to Boromir. It was just as well they had nothing to do but rest and recuperate, for if anyone had asked him to solve even the simplest of problems, he would have at best stared back at them idiotically. He ate only when Pippin gleefully presented him with a plate of strawberry scones, because he did not have the heart to refuse the hobbit. And the only conversations he had all day were with Gimli and Legolas, both of whom turned out to be far more friendly and approachable than he had thought at first, not to mention highly amusing. Even so, his mind was a blank, and only came into play when he realized twilight was descending, and he needed to hurry if he wanted to be ready in time.

He took advantage of the elves' hospitality by bathing in one of the warm springs to which he was directed and changing into some Elven clothes resembling those Legolas had been wearing since they had arrived.

The breeches given to him were dark grey and his tunic a muted sea green, and Boromir felt very self-conscious when inspecting his reflection in the surface of the bathing pool, for he had never worn garments which looked woven by nature itself. He sent a sad thought to his beloved brother; Faramir would look so much more at home in such delicate garb. Swallowing back his melancholy, he ran a finely carved comb through his still damp hair one last time.

Boromir was wandering near the small bridge again when he somehow sensed the elf lord's appearance. But on turning to face him, his eyes widened.

Celeborn, who looked radiant at all times, seemed to shimmer like silver, as his name would imply; though the cloak and robe he wore, while appearing to be silver-white at first glance, revealed shades of green and violet with each turn and shift of the fabric, and Boromir felt unremarkable even in his Elvish garb. He knew he stood gasping like a fool, but no words made it past his lips.

"Boromir," Celeborn breathed, and though he said nothing else, his eyes moving up and down the man's body held such admiration, it left Boromir breathless.

"My Lord," the man finally managed, sounding husky and nervous. Celeborn smiled warmly, and the spell of unreality keeping Boromir frozen in place lifted until he was able to return the smile.

"Shall we go?" the elf lord asked.

Boromir nodded.

They walked in comfortable silence through an area of the woods that Boromir was certain held a stronger magic than any place he had ever seen. Mist - not damp and uncomfortable, but soft like fairy breath - hung like silver shrouds between the majestic trees, and where the wind caught between the branches it seemed to sing, as if the trees had been arranged just so.

"Is this not beautiful?" Celeborn asked when he noted Boromir's wide, astonished eyes.

"Oh yes, my Lord." Boromir felt a little bolder when he saw the obvious pride in the elf's eyes. "Is this where you..." He stopped there, for he remembered that elves did not need to sleep, and obviously, Celeborn lived here, and what was it he truly wanted to know? When Celeborn laughed warmly, Boromir realized the elf was inside his mind again, sensing his nervous confusion, and he too chuckled, surprised to find he was not in the least perturbed.

"Forgive me, Boromir," Celeborn said nonetheless. "I have a private talan here where I come when I seek complete solitude. Even of my own people, few would know where to find me here." At this, Boromir's eyes widened. Celeborn smiled. "I will show it to you. But first, I believe I promised dinner?" And he stopped abruptly, extending his arm in a sweeping gesture to show Boromir where they had arrived.

Before them lay a tableau as Boromir had only ever seen on a painted canvas. A small lake - with mist drifting across its surface, but not so thickly that the stars could not reflect in silver sparks on the water - lay hidden in the dense forest, and on its bank was spread out a soft blanket with a feast of fruits, meat and wine laid out upon it.

Boromir was speechless. And his heart pounded so loudly, he felt certain Celeborn would hear it. "My Lord..." he finally managed, and turned to face his host, who looked very pleased indeed.

"Please, join me," and with that, the elf lord gathered his robes and gracefully settled on the blanket, draping the fabric around himself. He motioned to Boromir to sit beside him and, after a moment, the man did.

"I hope our dishes are to your liking. We know appallingly little about the tastes of men." Celeborn's eyes seemed to be smouldering when they met Boromir's, and the man gulped.

"I am certain no one would dislike a feast such as this, my Lord," Boromir said graciously, accepting the plate of treats offered to him.

"Celeborn."

Boromir looked surprised.

"Call me Celeborn. Please."

The elf lord smiled disarmingly, and Boromir could only nod. He feared one of Celeborn's smiles could make him comply with any request the elf should choose to issue, and the thought brought on a blush.

"Why are you so nervous?"

Boromir balked at the unexpectedly blunt words, frantically grappling for a response that would not be too incriminating. "I was wondering if it was proper... to be so informal. You are, after all, a very powerful--"

Celeborn raised a hand to get the man's attention. "Boromir, no." He chuckled, and Boromir was instantly more at ease. "I have invited you to dine with me as my friend. My equal. I neither expect, nor desire, that you should prostrate yourself before me." He grinned. "Unless you wish it?"

Boromir laughed out loud before he could stop himself. When the elf joined in, he declared with sparkling eyes, "Your sense of humour should be legend throughout Middle Earth, Celeborn."

"You mean it is not?"

Several minutes later, when they had both calmed once again and sat relaxed beside each other, Celeborn poured a pale rose wine, and then passed one of the glasses to Boromir. Having set down their plates, they sipped in silence, enjoying each other's company, though on occasion, their eyes strayed to the other's face, and a heated, pleasant tension built between them.

"Do you enjoy the wine?" Celeborn asked softly, though Boromir's obvious pleasure was plain to see. He liked to hear the man's voice, which was why he now mostly refrained from entering his mind to prompt a vocal response instead. "We have been growing these grapes for millennia, and I am proud to say that it was my own brother who began the tradition."

Boromir's face fell, and he set down the glass beside himself and sighed.

"Boromir?" Celeborn asked in concern, leaning a little closer. "What is wrong?"

"I..." Boromir looked positively stricken and felt embarrassed about the inopportune timing. He turned to gaze up at Celeborn, and it soothed him to see such worry on his behalf on the beautiful face. "You spoke of your brother, and it made me nostalgic for... Faramir. My own brother."

"Nostalgic?" Celeborn asked. The pain was all too clear on the man's face, and so was the longing in his eyes. "It was he you meant when you spoke to me of loving unwisely, was it not?"

Boromir knew there was no use in denying it. But he prepared to stand, his head hung low. "You must be disgusted by my company, my Lord. I will leave."

Before he could make another move, Celeborn's surprisingly unrelenting clasp on both his shoulders stilled him.

"You do not disgust me, Boromir," Celeborn said very softly, and there was no denying the sincerity in his voice. "You do make my heart break."

Boromir met his eyes as if to be reassured that he was not being taunted, and the compassion and understanding he saw in the wise face before him made him suppress his sudden wish to cry. Instead, he began to talk, quickly and without censoring his own words. "I have loved him forever, but have never told him. I feared nothing more than to make him hate me, and I am certain he never felt more for me than brotherly affection, and that is as it should be." He broke off abruptly. "I would not see him tainted by my desires."

"How could your love taint him, Boromir?" Celeborn sighed, his hands squeezing the man's shoulders gently. "You are one of the kindest, warmest, and most beautiful, creatures I have met in all my millennia in this world. And as your brother, I am certain he must be much like you."

Boromir felt soothed and warmed by the words, but did not quite allow himself to believe them. "Faramir is all that you so generously apply to me."

"As are you." Celeborn raised one hand from Boromir's shoulder and rested it against the man's cheek instead.

Boromir was surprised at the heat spreading through his entire body at the light contact, but he felt instantly calmer. "Our path to Mordor is a dangerous one. Even if I had hopes that he might love me with equal passion, I would not see him grieve for a lover rather than a brother; it would be a fate so much worse."

Celeborn could not speak for a moment, but when he finally did find his voice, he whispered, "So you deny yourself any love at all."

Boromir looked at him helplessly. "I have made my peace with loneliness."

Sliding his hand from the man's cheek to the back of his neck, Celeborn leaned forwards suddenly and pressed his mouth to those lips which had stolen his sleep.

Boromir drew back forcefully and stared at him - not with hatred, but alarm.

"I am sorry, Boromir." Celeborn felt a great loss. "I was so drawn to you, I had fooled myself into thinking you might feel the same way."

Boromir's eyes widened. "I do," he admitted, and his panting breaths made it clear he told the truth.

It was then that Celeborn remembered more of their conversation the night before. How Boromir had implied he always loved unwisely, and how they had agreed that love came suddenly and unpredictably to man and elf alike. "Why do you think it unwise?" Celeborn asked carefully.

"You have a wife," Boromir said instantly.

Celeborn smiled, so reminded of yet another of men's odd rules to starve their souls. "Yes. A very wise, understanding wife, whose heart is wide enough to love more than one. As is mine." And when understanding dawned on Boromir's face, he added, "As is yours."

Boromir blinked. "You must have put me under some elven spell." To Celeborn's relief, he smiled when he continued, "For I find myself no longer shocked by my... desire for you."

Celeborn's eyes were soft when he asked, "Only desire?"

Boromir gazed into the soothing darkness of the ancient eyes, recalling only too well how they had comforted him from the beginning, even before he would admit it to himself. "No."

Celeborn leaned near again, his hands buried in Boromir's soft, shining hair. "More then," he whispered, his eyes lowered to the man's lips right before him. He was close enough to feel the warmth of Boromir's breath on his own lips, and it made him ache with need. But he had to know that his deeper longing for Boromir's spirit was returned.

"Much more." This time, Boromir bridged the short distance between them. Like a shower of stars, golden lights burst behind his eyelids, and he felt as if his very essence was being joined by Celeborn's, and suddenly, he felt all the elf felt and knew his feelings as his own had been known to the other. It was at once wonderful and disconcerting to be so awash with deep, abiding feelings not only for himself, but for Galadriel and Haldir also. It might have made Boromir laugh or smile with pride to be one of so few in a life of millennia. And he might have wondered if Celeborn now too loved Faramir. Alas, he did not have the sense for any of it.

Celeborn moaned into Boromir's mouth and drew him into a firm embrace, and the very last vestiges of thought fled from Boromir's mind, and he could do little else but yield, clutching the elf's shoulders and arching up to meet the strong frame now pressing him into the soft blanket. At the edge of his consciousness, he was aware of the scent of the forest rising around them, but he was drunk on the taste of wine and eternity spilling from Celeborn's tongue onto his own. He suckled eagerly, causing a sharp spike of arousal to make the elf groan hungrily.

The sound had much the same effect on Boromir, who parted his legs to allow Celeborn to slide between them. Silver hair spilled over his shoulders as the elf's tongue lapped at his own and tickled the roof of his mouth, distracting Boromir entirely from the path of Celeborn's hands, until he felt their smooth warmth beneath his tunic and on the bare flesh of his stomach.

Celeborn smiled into the mouth gasping with surprise, and the shiver on Boromir's flesh made his own skin tingle. He released the man's lips and whispered against the raw redness of them, "I cannot remember when I was last so lost in the taste of another."

The elf was nuzzling Boromir's right ear when he heard the huskily whispered response, "Five hundred and thirty-five years, two months and twelve days ago." He could only laugh shakily at the no doubt accurate estimate.

Boromir's eyes gazed up at Celeborn, who raised a hand to touch Boromir's lips, tracing the smile lingering there unborn. Boromir's lips parted even as his eyes closed, and then he felt the tip of Celeborn's tongue against the centre of his upper lip, tickling there for a moment before tracing the softer cushion of his bottom lip. His own tongue chased it until catching up with it in the corner of his mouth, and they kissed with their mouths open and their tongues twining around each other until they were too breathless to go on, and Celeborn sealed Boromir's mouth tenderly.

"Let me love you," the elf said huskily, and it was a demand rather than a plea.

Boromir nodded, feeling dazed and drunk on life itself. "Here?" he whispered.

"No," Celeborn rose reluctantly and drew Boromir up with him as though the man weighed nothing. "Where no one can find us, and you will be mine until the sun rises."

Boromir's heart was pounding as he was led from their picnic spot and through a patch of forest. The mist grew even thicker there, and he might have thought Celeborn invisible within it with his silver hair and gown, were it not for the penetrating heat of their linked hands.

"Here, Boromir." Celeborn stopped and smiled.

Boromir raised his eyes to a giant mallorn tree and, though he could see through the mist and track the tree's enormous girth upwards, he could see no end to it. "Does this reach into the very heavens?" he asked in awe.

Celeborn laughed softly. "Nearly so." When he saw the somewhat daunted expression on the man's face, he smiled. "You need not climb it, Boromir." And with that, he released Boromir's hand and opened his arms.

Without hesitation, Boromir moved into the embrace, and immediately, Celeborn folded his arms and wide cloak around him. Their lips met feverishly once more, and even while Boromir was still entranced by their kiss, he felt a pulling sensation.

A moment later, the elf released him slowly, one hand remaining on his upper arm as if to steady him. "How do you like my sanctuary?" Celeborn asked.

Boromir, feeling dizzy, turned around, and gasped when he realized they were no longer in the forest - which now lay so far below them as to be a mere memory on the other side of the mists above which they stood. He peered over the edge of the flet under his feet, but had to draw back quickly.

"Come inside. You must be feeling unsteady." Celeborn folded an arm around his shoulders and turned him around to face the enclosure behind them.

Boromir was glad to be led inside, where a vast room lit with scented oil lamps was laid out before them, decked out with large, soft cushions in the colours of emeralds and sapphires, strewn over the floor and broad bed. There was a simple wooden desk also, and a small table with platters of fruit and a carafe of water.

The man still looked at this most private place in silent amazement when the elf's arms encircled him from behind, and soft lips nuzzled the warm space behind his left ear.

With a whimper, Boromir tilted his head, and Celeborn's mouth moved over his skin like fire. "I want to drown in you, Boromir," the elf murmured against flushed skin. "I want to hold you and soothe you until everything else loses all meaning."

Boromir's eyes fluttered closed and his breathing became erratic enough to leave him light-headed.

"Will you give yourself to me, lovely one?"

"Yes..." Boromir was turned in the elf's arms and this time, is was impossible to tell which of them devoured the other more fervently. Boromir's tongue was suckled and teased until he felt faint with arousal, and his strong warrior's hands were burning a hot trail across the elf's skin even through the silver mantle.

They were near the bed and so fell upon it. Celeborn moved one strong thigh between Boromir's legs and knelt on the edge of the soft mattress even as he tilted the man's body backwards easily.

Boromir had never even imagined being so passive, but with all the strains and hardships of late, he allowed the gentle domination willingly and felt his heart and soul lighten in the process.

When Boromir sank back against the cushions, Celeborn moved over him and, with a smile, loosened a few cords and straps here and there, and the soft folds of Elven fabric fell back to reveal Boromir's smooth chest and broad shoulders. And while kissing and caressing those, the elf tugged down the breeches also and pressed his lover into the bed with a soft moan.

"This is like a beautiful dream," Boromir murmured, clutching at the silver hair brushing over his bare skin as his chest was kissed and teased tenderly.

Celeborn smiled softly, and let Boromir feel the smile in a kiss. "It is no dream, my love. When you wake, I will still be here, holding you." And removing the remnants of Boromir's garments, he rolled the man on his side and faced him, sliding a hand through his hair. "I would hold you always if I could."

Boromir smiled. "I cannot imagine ever forgetting the touch of your hands," he said, running his own fingers over the smooth skin of Celeborn's cheek and jaw. "So it will be as though you are with me always."

"Yes." Celeborn smiled also, his fingers tracing the knuckles of Boromir's hand as they explored his own skin.

"Will you undress and let me see you?" Boromir asked huskily.

Nodding, Celeborn made quick work of his own robe and leggings.

Once they were both nude, it would have been hard for anyone to tell which of them was the elf and which the man, for their long, lean muscles were equally beautiful, and when they embraced and writhed against each other, their soft skin glistened with an unearthly sheen in the soft lamp light. Like twining branches of the same majestic tree, they wound around each other and moved together.

Celeborn's mouth travelled hungrily over the man's flesh as he memorized every nuance of taste and texture, and when he took Boromir's arousal deep into his throat, he created another memory - that of his lover lost in complete ecstasy as he begged for release.

Boromir shuddered as his essence flowed over Celeborn's tongue, and was barely aware of his own whispered confession of love. When the elf drew him close and held him, he sighed joyfully.

"You are not completely sated yet?" Celeborn teased.

"Far from it," Boromir murmured into the silver strands caressing his face, and his fingers played the broad chest beneath his head like a fine instrument. When Celeborn began to tremble under his touch, he shifted lower, until his hand closed around the hot erection between the elf's legs, and immediately, his own arousal returned full force. "What do you do to me..." he asked in awe, moving to crouch over Celeborn's thighs. "That I need you inside my body more than my own blood?"

The elf might have tried to answer, but he was lost in the darkness of Boromir's eyes, the fever there reflecting his own. He reached for the man's hips, drawing him hard against himself while bucking upwards.

Gasping, they held quite still like that, until Boromir's hand began to stroke so firmly and rapidly that it was Celeborn's turn to beg until his lover took pity and applied the scented oil Celeborn had placed nearby before sinking down, slowly, to take him inside himself.

"Boromir!" Celeborn cried out hoarsely, nearly sobbing with need.

There was no pause or hesitation in their movements, and they were gliding inside each other with the ease of two who had loved forever. Boromir's skin was flushed with perspiration as he undulated against Celeborn, who met his every thrust in perfect time.

Soon, Boromir found himself turned on his back once more, with Celeborn thrusting impossibly deep inside him, and his lips parted with a wordless gasp as he spilled himself against the elf's shimmering skin even while being filled with his lover's essence.

Sleep came to them slowly, but they dreamed with their eyes open and smiles on their faces, and when the sun rose once more, Boromir found himself snugly in Celeborn's arms, exactly as he had been promised the night before.

'I love you,' he whispered in his mind as he beheld the open but sleeping dark eyes.

'And I love you,' came his response, before Celeborn shifted and focussed fully on him, now awake. "What a beautiful dream you are," the elf said.

"Like you, a very real one." Boromir kissed him long and deep, and only after another hour or two, maybe three, did they rise to face the rest of Arda, both feeling lighter of heart than either could remember.

As they dressed, Boromir suddenly felt a deep, tugging feeling in his chest, and a tender voice whispering to him as if from a great distance, 'Whatever happens, your immortal soul will be with us now.' He started. "Celeborn?" he asked, turning to face the elf. "Did you say something?"

"No." Then, comprehension brightened Celeborn's face, and he laughed warmly. "That was Haldir."

"Haldir?" Boromir's eyes widened, and more so when tinkling laughter rang in his mind. "Galadriel?" he asked of no one in particular, knowing the answer instinctively.

Celeborn smiled, and the voice in Boromir's mind whispered to him reassuringly. "Haldir is right. We will all be together, Boromir. In the West."

He turned to Celeborn, awed. "This gift you have given me..." he began, trembling with gratitude and affection.

Celeborn caressed his cheek. "Do you think I would ever want to part from you again? My kind bestows such a gift rarely, but you..." He kissed Boromir tenderly. "You are a rare treasure indeed." And with a great smile, he added, "As is your sweet brother."

"You mean to say that Faramir...?" Boromir exclaimed, scarcely able to believe it.

Celeborn was still smiling. "Yes, your beloved brother too will join us in Valinor, when his time comes."

And Boromir's heart sang with joy, for nothing - not even death - would ever keep him now from those he loved.

THE END