And The Clocks Were Striking Thirteen (_redpanda_) wrote in marchwarden,
And The Clocks Were Striking Thirteen
_redpanda_
marchwarden

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Just for you guys: random snippet of an A/U I'm working on

Haldir regarded Eomer evenly, then shifted his gaze to Boromir. Both men were worn, torn, dusty, splattered with dried blood, unshaven, and -- to be honest -- reeked alarmingly. However, he had to admire their determination.

He wavered. The day was waning past noon...he was losing valuable time...

...but...

Haldir sighed minutely and let his hand slide from the mare's withers. His brothers always said that his grudging fondness for the Secondborn would someday be his downfall.

"And what nursery-tale set a rochadan prince and the son of the White City on a hopeless quest?" His words were mocking but his tone held no rancor; he spoke as if genuinely curious. Which, perhaps he was.

Eomer reddened and glanced back at Boromir. Boromir squared his shoulders as if steeling himself and strode forward. "My brother had a dream."

The elf remained expressionless. "Not like your dream of but a few minutes ago, I hope."

Outwardly, the Gondorian was a mirror to Haldir's tranquility. Inwardly, he shuddered. The fall of Osgiliath was not something he cared to relive.

"No. My dreams are...ordinary enough. But my brother... We may share the same mother and the same father, but it seems that we do not share the same blood. Whatever minor gifts run in the bloodlines of Numenor and Dol Amroth, he bears in full. He dreamed of hope in Imladris, and we cannot turn back until we have found it."

Thus far Haldir had shown little of his personality but many shades of calm, collected, disinterested -- even his flash of anger at Eomer's impertinent tap had been kept under tight control. However, surprisingly, Boromir's words had affected him. Something in his eyes...something old, something deep, something that still ached after untold lives of men...

"Dol Amroth, you say?" He pinned Boromir with a bright gaze that seemed to slice through him to the bone and beyond. As if he was hungrily seeking something...and, sadly, not seeing it. "You are kin to the sea-princes?"

Boromir frowned at this sudden scrutiny, bemused and uncomfortable. "Our mother was the daughter of Adrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth. Why does this matter so?"

The elf said nothing, but the ancient loss behind his eyes...

Understanding dawned. "I...see. The tales are true, then?"

"I would prefer not to speak of it," Haldir said quietly, and his refusal was answer enough.
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*small happy squeak*

You'll need a beta for this, right? *volunteers shamelessly*

You realize that lately your household is responsible for 80% of my favorite reading material online...

I VERY MUCH want to read more of this story.
*laughs* Awwww, and DR's not even DOING any smut right now...no, wait, he is, but I can't tell you what. Eheheh. *duck* I'll send you some more of this piece, though. I admit I'd like to hear what you think!