#BoromirxOC

[spocks-titties]

Is there an audience for a boromirxoc fic that takes place pre fellowship?

[ladylouoflothlorien]

First Meetings

This was requested by @pilindielofgondor​ and honestly it’s taken me far too long to get this out. I’ve made it extra long as compensation xx

The OC in this story (Pilindiel Saerwën) belongs to PilindielofGondor, not me

Warnings: none

Word count: 3978

Synopsis: Pilindiel sees Boromir arriving in Rivendell and instantly falls in love.

The Gondorian lady Pilindiel Saerwën had lived in Rivendell for a long time – not her entire life, but most of it. Now a mature young woman, she still lived with the elves who had raised her. Pilindiel, affectionately called Pilin by some of the elves, loved to read. In particular, she simply adored romance stories and the older she got the more she longed for a romance of her own. All the tales she read filled her head with ideas of soulmates and true love, and she began to grow restless – she seemed to have no chance of romance at Rivendell. The elves were wonderful hosts, but many of them still saw her as a child. They were thousands of years old and hardly aged a day in a hundred years, whilst Pilindiel and her kind would be very lucky if they even lived to see one hundred years pass. Pilindiel wasn’t a child anymore. Just because she was so much younger than them, it didn’t make her any less of an adult in her own right.

The woman was settled on one of Rivendell’s many balconies overlooking the great unknown world beyond Rivendell. Her nose was buried deep within the slightly yellowed pages of a book, as usual, but a gust of wind drew her attention away. Pilindiel raised her head and looked out over the landscape. In the distance she could make out something – to her human eyes it was barely anything more than a fuzzy splodge, but she could tell that it was making its way towards Rivendell, whatever it was. That was when she remembered; Rivendell was expecting guests, guests from Gondor and from beyond. Perhaps ‘guests’ wasn’t quite the term to use. They were coming for some special, secret council rather than for pleasure. No matter the reason for their visit, Lord Elrond was planning a great feast in their honour, as was his custom whenever the city was blessed with visitors.

Diplomatic visits usually meant little to Pilindiel, apart from the opportunity to witness the sheer talent of the elven chefs. However, this time was different. Some of the visitors were coming from Gondor, Pilindiel’s true home (despite the fact that she hardly remembered what it was like) and she had a real sense of excitement at the chance to meet those who the world labelled as her kin.

The elves always dressed far more formally than the other races of middle earth, but dinner parties were special events, and that meant that the elves dressed even more gloriously than usual. In order to talk to the arriving party, Pilindiel felt that she’d have to catch their attention. This meant she’d have to out-elf the other elves at the dinner – a difficult task, to be sure, but not completely impossible. Pilindiel closed her book, but not before carefully marking her place, and she rose from where she sat. The woman returned indoors to get ready, leaving the arriving party still a mere distant stain on the otherwise pristine surrounding landscape.

Pilindiel was just fixing a final pin into her luxurious brown hair when there was a knock at her door.

“Who is it?”

“It is Lindir, my Lady.” His voice was slightly muffled by the carved, wooden door but it was unmistakable. Pilindiel rose from her dressing table and went to let him in. He smiled gently at her when the door swung open and he noticed her outfit.

“I see you’re ready for our guests. I was just coming to see if you wanted to witness their arrival. They’re almost here.”

“Of course, thank you Lindir.” She edged out of her room and shut the door behind her, smiling at the elf who she’d been close friends with for almost the entire time she’d lived in Rivendell.

The two walked through the halls together, arm in arm, until they reached a place where they could easily watch the arrival of Rivendell’s guests, but where they wouldn’t be in the way. Elrond, who was already waiting, beckoned for them to join him. They did as instructed, and Pilindiel felt her excitement rise at the thought of being beside Lord Elrond when he gave the party from Gondor their official welcome to Rivendell.

At that moment, horns sounded, signifying the arrival of the men of Gondor. All eyes fell on the archway the horses and their riders would have to pass through. The first arrived, riding confidently into the city as the rest of the party followed his lead. Pilindiel’s gaze was fixed on that first man. The woman had to bite down on a very audible gasp. He was the most gorgeous, regal looking man she’d ever seen. Her eyes widened as she continued to behold him. He had greasy blond hair, about shoulder length as was the fashion of men – so she was told – and a gentle shadow of stubble on his cheeks. No doubt, the tell-tale signs of a long journey on horseback. Despite this unpolished appearance, his chin was raised and his broad shoulders were straight as he briskly dismounted his horse, tossed the reigns to a waiting elf, and made his way with confident strides towards Lord Elrond and his companions.

“Who…” Pilindiel spoke quietly to Lindir, sounding a little breathless, but before she could get out another word, the man’s quick steps had placed him directly in front of them. Certainly too close for her to continue her quiet question to Lindir.

“My Lord Boromir, welcome to Rivendell.” Only the calm, elegant, and altogether familiar tone of Lord Elrond’s voice kept Pilindiel from trembling. If soulmates did truly exist then this man, she was sure, was hers.

“Lord Elrond. My father believes this council must be of great importance, though your messenger did not give any great detail. We have ridden hard, I trust there is time for me and my people to rest before we are needed.” He spoke as though he was well versed in these sorts of formalities, but Pilindiel thought she caught something in his tone that made her feel that, though he seemed externally calm and collected, there was something concerning him. Indeed he did not seem too happy to be in Rivendell – perhaps it was his desire to be elsewhere that caused him unease. For her, a woman who had been raised among the elves, a race who’s emotions ran deep yet hidden, reading the feelings of the other peoples of middle earth was so easy it felt like child’s play.

It was then that this man’s focused gaze fell from the face of Lord Elrond and met the inquisitive stare of Pilindiel herself. The woman felt colour swiftly rise in her cheeks.  

“You are not an elf.” The formality had dropped from his words in a momentary lapse, spurred by his confusion that an elf Lord – proud, self-important race that he belonged to – would choose to have a human by his side to welcome important guests. Lord Elrond was highly amused by the man’s reaction and he let this show by raising a brow and letting one corner of his mouth quirk.

“Indeed not, as you see. The Lady Pilindiel is of your race and of your people.” At this, Elrond turned slightly and took up one of her hands, treating her with the same tender, affectionate care as he did his own daughter, Arwen.

“Pilin, please show our Gondorian guests to the rooms that have been prepared for them. I’m afraid Lindir and myself must stay here to welcome the remainder of our visitors as they arrive.”

The woman curtsied lightly, her elf-trained manners kicking in on reflex, and her head bent bashfully as she took the arm of the man who had caught her heart not minutes before. It was all she could do to quietly get out even a single sentence.

“Welcome to Rivendell, my Lord, I will show you the way.”

After getting over his initial shock at finding Pilindiel, a human, in Rivendell – a place he’d assumed was entirely populated by elves – Boromir found himself at a loss for words. She was a beautiful young woman… a woman of Gondor, if Elrond was to be believed – and his first words to her had been corse and unrefined. In short, Boromir was embarrassed.

Pilindiel herself was embarrassed as well. She was embarrassed by her own lack of conversation as they walked ever closer to the quarters she knew had been prepared for these guests, but she was also embarrassed from some deep and irrational fear that he could somehow have heard her thoughts of him, for her mind was full of such thoughts and had been from the first moment he’d come riding through that arch.

Even so, the silence was becoming oppressive, and though the rest of the party who were following along behind them weren’t paying attention to them in the slightest other than for directions, Pilindiel soon felt that her lack of words would appear rude to them all. She did not want her conduct to reflect poorly on the elves who had done so much for her since she was a girl. It was difficult to think of anything to say. Pilindiel could be described as shy at the best of times, but now she was surrounded by strangers and even more than that, her arm was wound around the arm of a man who she could only describe as  gorgeous. After a moment of agitated contemplation, all she could think of to say were basic pleasantries. Well, anything would do.

“My Lord… I – I do hope the rooms will be to your liking… I remember the style of elven rooms being rather different than the style of rooms in the halls of men.”

She didn’t notice how her fingers tightened slightly around his forearm as she struggled to find her own courage. To her own ears she sounded meek, and she was sure this was not a quality he would appreciate in a woman. In her own desperation to impress him, she only made herself more nervous still.

To Boromir, she sounded like an angel. To be sure, she sounded like a very shy angel, but an angel nonetheless. He’d never paid much attention to the women who vied for his attention back in Gondor. He was too busy with his duties and he knew their intentions were far from pure. His money and power were his most attractive traits in their eyes. Due to this, though he was no young man, his experience with affairs of the heart was minimal to say the least, and so now he felt his heart speaking he did not really know what to do. She was graceful and elegant and he felt like his words came out as rough and uncultured compared to hers. The thought was enough to make him wince, however imperceptibly he did this.  

“My men will be satisfied so long as there is a soft bed and a place to wash themselves.”

Pilindiel nodded and looked intently at anything but his face. She would, of course, have to reply to his words in a timely fashion now that she had initiated conversation, but it was proving even more difficult than she had expected and the woman was glad to find that they were drawing close to their destination.

“You can be assured of that my Lord, naturally, my Lord Elrond would not dream of offering chambers devoid of such features to such esteemed guests…” She trailed off, the feeling of heat on her cheeks just a little too hot for her to focus entirely on what she was saying. Despite being a little frazzled, she wasn’t too distracted to notice that they had already arrived outside their destination. Boromir seemed to be pondering his own next reply when they came to a halt, and in consequence the men following behind also came to a standstill. Boromir looked to Pilindiel for an explanation as to why they had stopped, and the woman gently unwound her arm from his. This caused further confusion, mixed in with a little panic, and the son of the steward was just about to ask if he’d inadvertently done something to offend her when she finally found the courage to look at his face.

“We’re here, my Lord.” She raised a hand and gestured to the door they were standing beside. “Through here you will find your quarters. This door opens onto a common room, and your private rooms can be found through the doors leading off from that room…” She paused, glancing away again, as she found that she couldn’t bring herself to gaze at his perfect face for very long. “You can be assured of your privacy whilst you are with us…”

Pilindiel looked down at her clasped hands, not having anything more to say. Luckily, it seemed that Boromir had once again found his voice.

“Will you be attending the council meeting?” He was looking at her as he asked.

“T-the meeting? Oh, no- Not me, I’m no one important. I will be attending the feast tonight, however…” She trailed off, and now being truly at a loss for words, Pilindiel curtsied once again and made to leave. “I hope to see you there, my Lady.”

If Pilindiel had been fluttering with nerves and excitement before, now she felt like she was on the verge of fainting. She felt jittery and uncomfortable as she waited for the dinner to start, and it was physically impossible for her to relax. He hoped to see her? Why should he wish for that? Admittedly, Pilindiel strongly hoped to see him there as well, but she was also shy and unsure of herself and having attention from such a man as him… she didn’t know how to properly react.

In this state time passed in a blur and soon Lindir was knocking on her door for the second time that evening to collect her and escort her to dinner. Pilindiel jumped when she heard his quiet knock, but she took a deep breath and opened the door. He instantly noticed that something wasn’t quite right.

“My Lady, are you unwell? You seem very pale-“ She raised a hand gently to cut him off. “Please Lindir, I assure you I’m alright… I’m just a little hungry, that’s all.” He didn’t buy it, but he chose not to push the matter further and he offered her his arm. “Well then, if you are hungry I know just the cure.”

She’d told him that she was hungry, but now settled on one of the high-backed chairs between an unknown elf and an unknown man – and opposite Boromir¬ – she couldn’t eat. Luckily Lindir seemed too focused on his own conversation to notice her lack of appetite. Pilindiel settled for pushing the food around her plate to make it appear she was eating when in reality she’d hardly taken a bite.

She was settled close to Elrond, and Elrond was engaged in discussion with Boromir and several others. Pilindiel had nothing to contribute to the conversation, but she contented herself to listen. Her heart was beating so hard she was almost sure the people sitting around her must be able to hear it. Each time Boromir glanced her way she felt her nerves spike. Soon she could practically hear the sound of her blood rushing around in her ears. If she’d felt faint before as she waited in her room she now felt that it was even more likely.

The woman had been so excited for this dinner, but it proved too much for her to handle. She needed air.  

She quietly excused herself and rose from the table, swaying slightly. She slowly made her way to the door and slipped out, thinking that she hadn’t even been noticed. Of course, Elrond had noticed just how little colour there seemed to be in her face. He was concerned – he didn’t want her to fall by herself and hurt her head. Elrond was just about to raise a hand and gesture to one of the elves serving the dinner, wanting to send someone after her, when one of his guests quietly excused himself also.

It was Boromir. Elrond knew then that he didn’t need to worry for Pilindiel’s safety. In his mind there was no doubt the gallant Gondorian was intending to follow his human ward. The elf lord turned his attention back to the remaining guests at his table – he was the host of the evening after all, and he had his standards to maintain.

Pilindiel’s hands slowly and shakily tightened around the railing of the balcony she’d found herself on. She hadn’t really been aware what direction she’d gone in, focusing too heavily on keeping herself upright and her breathing steady, but she’d miraculously found the outside. The cool night air wrapped around her body and teased the tiny, delicate hairs on her arms. That night the wind was gentle, but it was enough to soothe her frazzled nerves.

All the progress the air had been making towards calming her down was promptly ruined when she sensed another presence behind her and she heard the words “My Lady” In a voice she had come to know very well in a very short space of time.

Pilindiel fainted.

When she came back around at last, she found herself laid carefully on her bed. There was a healer elf beside her who was she only knew a little, but even so it was nice to see a familiar face when she woke up.

“What.. What happened?” She asked, a hand flying to cup her forehead as she sat up. It appeared that whatever had happened had left her with quite a headache.

“You fainted, Pilin. That Gondorian Lord carried you here. He insisted on remaining in here whilst I treated you… I only just sent him away to get a drink as it seemed as though you were going to wake up soon.” The elf explained, and as she did she settled on the side of the bed and gently reached for Pilindiel’s free hand to hold it comfortingly. “Do not worry, nothing is wrong with you. It seems you got a little too worked up over the course of the evening.”

Pilindiel straightened up and she gripped onto the elf’s sleeve. “Y-you don’t understand, I think he might be my soul-“ She was cut off by the sound of the door handle turning and both sets of eyes in the room turned towards the door as it opened. Boromir walked into the room, carrying a tray with a glass jug of water and a cup beside it. His face lit up when he saw Pilindiel sitting up in the bed.

“So she woke up.” His words seemed to be directed towards the healer, yet his eyes remained focused on the other human in the room.

“Indeed she did, my Lord.” The elf rose, bowed, and made their way to the door, muttering something about seeing to their other patients. Pilindiel blushed at that, as she was pretty sure there were no other ‘patients’ to be tended to in Rivendell at that time, which meant that the elf had realised what Pilindiel was trying to say before and was purposely leaving her alone with this man. Elves, it appeared, could be romantics too.

Boromir had by now placed the tray on a side table and was in the process of pouring water into the glass. Pilindiel took the opportunity to look down and make sure her dress was still on straight. Her hands self-consciously smoothed down the fabric as he made his way over to the bed. Instead of settling on the side of the bed itself like the healer had done, Boromir very respectfully placed himself on a chair which had been pulled up to the side of the bed.

‘That must’ve been where he was sitting whilst I was asleep-‘ Pilindiel thought, and the thought did nothing to calm the blush that was once again rising to her cheeks.

Boromir handed the glass to her and she took it gratefully, but then his posture and his attitude seemed to grow darker and more serious as he placed both of his palms on his knees and looked at her earnestly.

“Do I make you feel uncomfortable, my Lady?” He asked, making Pilindiel’s eyes grow wider in their sockets and for once she really didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing at all. Boromir repeated the question, a little more urgently now, fearing that since she couldn’t reply straight away the answer might really be a yes.

The second time he asked, Pilindiel managed to shake her head in response to his words, though it was still difficult for her to speak. Instead, she took a sip of water and exhaled slowly.

“No..N-no it’s not quite that..” She finally managed, feeling distinctly aware of his eyes on her the whole time, though she was looking intently at her glass of water. “It might be .. the reverse of that.. I-I mean..” Pilindiel wasn’t quite sure how to explain what was going on without betraying the fact that she felt far more strongly towards this man than was normally acceptable such a short time after meeting him.

Thankfully, after she said no, Boromir seemed satisfied. He was never one to doubt the word of a lady. If she said no, then in his mind ‘no’ was what she meant. There was clearly something else going on, but if it was this difficult for her to explain then it wasn’t something he felt needed to be pressed further. Instead, he took his hands off his knees and bent forwards slightly, so that his elbows were now resting where his hands hand been and his hands were clasped together loosely.

“There was something else I wanted to ask you.” This, of course, peaked Pilindiel’s curiosity, and so she nodded, taking another sip of water to once again avoid having to speak.

“I’m sure you’re aware of the council meeting that happened today…” He trailed off, wondering how to continue. Pilindiel’s eyes were on him now, and when he stopped she blinked owlishly.

“Well… Myself and some others have been chosen to… well, we’ll be going on a quest.” His brows furrowed and his hands clasped slightly tighter together. “I honestly do not know how much of this I’m allowed to share. It’s supposed to be a secret, you understand.” Pilindiel did understand.

“Anyway.” His voice faltered slightly from its confident tone, and for the first time Pilindiel wondered if he might also be as nervous. If he was, he was certainly far better at hiding it than she was.

“I wanted to ask you. Once I am finished with this quest… would you permit me to return here.” He glanced to the side, and though his hair fell to cover his face, Pilindiel could have sworn that she saw his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “I should very much like to get to know you better, my lady.”

Pilindiel felt her chest constrict as he pulse suddenly skyrocketed. He wanted to get to know her??? For a moment she was dumbfounded, and she was convinced that this must be a dream. She must still be asleep. After the initial shock wore off, however, she realised that it wasn’t a dream, and that to keep the man waiting any longer without any kind of an answer was far crueller than she intended to be. To spare both of them from allowing the silence to linger any longer, Pilindiel steeled herself and took a deep breath before speaking – she wanted to sound as confident as she could.

“I should like that very much, my Lord.”

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