Mending Broken Hearts V Should I have let them a little more time for themselves?
They do seem a bit embarrassed by my appearance.
But then, I would have missed that unique, priceless look on both of their faces.
I have to admit that I have to strain my self-control not to burst into laughter when I see Elessar sitting on top Boromir, his head turned around by his lover so he just had to notice me, his expression frozen in a peculiar mÈlange of both shock and helplessness.
"Anybody for tea and cookies?" I ask, my voice levelled, gentle, kind.
Am I cruel, I wonder?
If so, it's only to protect myself from further harm. My husband has chosen a lover.
A male lover.
Boromir of Gondor.
I know I am somewhat picky when it comes to men, but tell me—he is neither handsome nor else wise remarkable, this Prince, is he?
Only his excessive temper sets him apart from other mortals.
And yet, my husband has chosen him, and as long as he is happy, I will be so as well.
I do not mind sharing, for I am sure beyond doubt that his love for me has never wavered, nor would he ever favour this human above me.
But Elessar needs this man to be happy. I know that. I have seen him suffer far too long.
And thus, I will try to be happy as well.
As a beginning, this includes making them realise that they are not the only members of this relationship, that I, Arwen UndÛmiel, daughter of Celebrian, granddaughter of Galadriel, am at least equal to and as decisive as either of them.
And, as my grandmother has always been quick to point out: 'Do not lead by pulling them after you with a leash, for they will start to bite. Make them want to follow you on their own, and the worst thing that can happen is that they will try to lick your face. And never forget, dear, a little bit of bad conscious will always help make them open to suggestion.'
Grandmother was very wise, and her advice has never failed.
Yet I am not so sure if I like her style. It seems a little too autocratic for my taste, and I am not such a busybody as she.
For the sake of my future happiness, I'll have to pull this off.
So I smile and cock my head slightly, giving both of the boys time to get out of their less than graceful position.
Once more my countenance is put to test as both of them simultaneously begin to scramble for the cover, trying to move without uncovering their bodies even more.
In that small bed, with two rather tall men in it, this is no simple task, and as they try to hurry, their efforts at first do not really produce the desired result.
Who do they think I am? A virgin Goddess descended from heaven?
All the Valar, Elessar—I bore your son!
I see you unclad every morning of my life, and how your body reacts to arousal is surely nothing new to me.
Now you struggle to hide your exposed backside from me?
I hope this is only a panicked reaction due to my surprising appearance, if not, darling, you still have a lot to learn about women.
Me in particular.
So, the two of them finally get their long limbs sorted out and manage to sit in the bed, next to each other, the covers up to their arms.
They're sweet, in a way and I can see that Elessar already benefits from his lover's reappearance: though he physically looks drained, his eyes sparkle, and his senses are all alert.
Smiling gently, I acknowledge their efforts with a slight nod, gliding towards them like a swan on a lake.
I'm very good at gliding like a swan.
Both of them stare at me, my husband thinking hard and not reaching any conclusion, his lover reaching the same result by not thinking at all.
Very obviously I look around the room in search of a tea-table that I know was never there, then set down the tray I've been holding onto my husband's legs.
Some tea, some cookies, a bit of cream, some tiny sandwiches. Three cups.
I knew what I would find when I entered the study, now my husband knows as well.
I'm not so sure about his lover, though.
Boromir still looks stunned out of his mind, staring at me slightly vacant as he does.
I settle down on the edge of the bed, by my husband's knees, so I can face the two of them while pouring the tea.
Three cups.
I put down the tea-pot, and as I look up, I see that my husband has recovered from his mortification.
Gently, in a most tender and loving gesture, he takes both of my hands into his own, holding them, looking deeply into my eyes.
"Are you alright, Love?" he says, his voice brimming with grave concern.
Oh husband, you are so sweet, I could never fear that you might not love me anymore. Your lover, the very one you brought back with your love that was strong enough to cheat death, this lover is sitting next to you, suffering prolonged heart-failure due to extreme mortification, and all you think of is if I'd be 'alright'.
I love you, husband, and I wish we could stay together happily ever after. But until then, some work has still to be done.
So I merely nod, solemnly, none of my mirth showing in my eyes.
Handing a teacup first to my husband, then to his lover, I take my time to watch them stare at me. Elessar looks at me with concentration, his thoughts racing behind his brow. Well, maybe he's going to figure out what I'm doing, but he'll be too late anyway.
Boromir—poor sod. His hands move as if belonging to someone else as he takes the cup, and his eyes are wholly blank.
I have to take care of him, before he suffers any real damage. My husband can wait.
"Boromir?" I say gently, pointedly.
He only blinks at me.
"Boromir of Gondor, are you well?" I ask again, this time more distinctly.
He nods. Finally a reaction.
"I am fine, your Highness."
His voice is rough, but his mind is back into this world, and I can almost hear his thoughts trying to find a way out of the trap I have laid here for the two of them.
Sorry, boys, but you'll have to deal with me now, on my terms.
I will not accept any further delay in this matter. And I will fight. For my husband, for my son, for my happiness.
But, as I am the one challenged, the choice of weapon is mine. And I have chosen.
Social graces.
In Love and War, it is said, all means are fair.
As I think of it, maybe I am cruel. But, after all, I think I truly have deserved some fun of my own.
"Please call me Arwen, Boromir," I say, still smiling, completely ignoring the questioning glances my husband shoots me.
"After our first meeting in Rivendell, I never thought that we would have so much in common, dear."
"In common?" Boromir asks, as politely as possible in his compromising situation.
"Yes, of course," I say with a radiant smile, giving an explanatory glance at my husband, then turning my attention towards my tea.
As I look up again, I search Boromir's face for any sign of understanding, but I am to be disappointed.
He doesn't get it.
"Well, you and my husband seem very close," I begin, watching with delight as both of them blush like children.
"And he truly has missed you so much. I am so glad to see you back alive and healthy."
I even manage to make my last comment sound utterly innocent.
I'm pretty good at sounding innocent, but I think you've guessed that by now.
"You—" my husband's lover begins, then stops to clear his throat. "You do not mind?"
If this were a sword-fight, I'd say he just has thrown away his sword, inviting the incoming attack with open arms.
But this is no sword-fight, is it?
"Of course not!" I exclaim happily. "How could I?"
Boromir's face is a paragon of disbelieving joy.
"Boromir, please. If anybody on this planet could understand why you fell in love with him—wouldn't it be someone who loves Elessar as well? Don't you think that I can at least feel with you, feel the love, the longing and the dreadful pain of loving someone you should not love? How could I ever mind someone's heart singing the same song as mine? Elessar and I even had an argument this morning, and it was me who encouraged him to come up here and try to call you back."
My husband's lover blinks in disbelief, and Boromir's eyes are gleaming suspiciously moist.
He bows his head as gracefully as sitting in a bed with a teacup in his hand allows, deeply moved, saying:
"Dear Lady Arwen, your immeasurable grace honours me beyond my worth. I'd have never dreamed of such kind words from a Lady that, by all rights, could have ordered me flogged and exiled. Thank you, your majesty."
Thank you for acknowledging my status. First battle won. Many more yet to come.
My dear husband, still sitting silently between me and his lover, sips at his tea, thoughtfully, carefully. He's still got no idea.
"Oh Boromir, I might be his wife, and your status might never be acknowledged officially, but I know he loves you so much. And if Elessar deems you worthy of his love, you are at least worthy of my friendship."
"Thank you, my lady," he says, slightly bowing again.
"I hope so much that we'll become friends—my husband is so happy with you around, I couldn't stand to see him suffering from a dispute between the two people he loves."
"No, my lady, I will try everything I can do to make both you and you husband happy."
"You are too kind," I say, smiling at Boromir's bewildered yet beaming face. I am sure, by now my husband suspects me of planning something. Still no clue.
Good. I only need a few more minutes.
"It would be so cruel to see him torn between two people he loves equally. I wouldn't know what to do under such circumstances."
I look at Boromir, my eyes full of sadness, then cast down my look in a gesture of complete helplessness.
I'm very good at... Well, you know.
"I don't know. Probably, I'd just leave," Boromir says, almost voiceless.
Now my husband looks hunted, staring at me with questioning disbelief. I choose to ignore him.
Finally he grasps what I'm trying to do here. Let's see if he has guessed all. I look up, a faint hope brightening my features.
"You would? But that would be torturous for you! I'd never have that strength..."
"I assure you, my lady, that if ever anything comes between us, I will abandon you and your husband, not to cause any of you any further harm. His—Your happiness is more important to me than my own."
He smiles, now, adding sadly:
"And, after all, you were here long before me, and will still be here after I have died again, so..."
No, I am cruel. I hate to put this valiant man through this, to force him to accept that he'll ever be merely second after me, that he'll never be the first in the heart of the man he loves so desperately.
I despise this.
But, I have to do this, I have to sort this out once and for all, so that never, ever will anything threaten our happiness again.
But he has accepted his status, in his own words, showing more courage and valour than most men that have walked middle-earth.
Even my Grandmother, among the wisest of all, would never have accepted defeat so graciously. I can see now why my husband thinks this man worthy of his love, worth all the trouble.
Boromir of Gondor might be a fire-headed lout, but he has a heart of gold, and such a gift truly is rare, doubly so among the sons of men.
So, let's see now, brother-in-love, if we can wrestle as much valiant commitment out of my husband.
"Oh, no, Boromir," I say, still smiling with all the friendliness I can conjure up. "Don't talk of such things. You have just come back, so do not let us talk about parting. And anyway, I do not think that we will ever have to think of that again. Isn't it so, my husband?"
Elessar's concentrated frown shatters, and with much irritation, he answers:
"Yes, of course, my love..."
Still, he is trying to figure out what I intend to do. But I merely smile, daintily biting into one of the cookies I brought with me, hoping that, with a bit of luck, Boromir would open the next round instead of me.
"I hope so, too," the former Gondorian prince begins. "My status nowadays has yet to be confirmed, as well as my sudden reappearance."
He put it too politely, but nevertheless a thrust into the right direction.
"Well, yes." Elessar starts, probably some evasive kind of answer.
So I interrupt him as meekly as I can.
"But he is right, sweetheart—what kind of status is he going to hold in court? You know there will be questions. And better we settle this now, than waiting until the courtiers' chatter will have detrimental effects."
"Umm, in court...?" my husband says, absently stroking his chin.
I know he hates court and everything remotely connected to it with a passion. But he is King, and as the King he will have to deal with the court, like it or not.
I'm slightly annoyed that Boromir is still sitting silently next to my husband. I hoped he would be more emotionally suited to force this subject onto Elessar.
But, I wouldn't be the Queen I am if I didn't have at least something in mind already.
"Oh, darling, by the way—I took it upon myself to release the two poor boys standing guard in front of the door to your study."
"You had guards there?" Boromir exclaims, his face a mixture of disbelief and accusation.
"Well, I—"
"They looked rather drained," I go on. "And I can hardly think of anyone being a threat to the two of you. And this way, we will be able to talk undisturbed, you know how easily any sound in these rooms is overheard in the hallway in front of your study."
Judging by Boromir's bulging eyes, I had guessed right. Sometimes, his temper might come in handy after all.
"Don't you tell me that you had guards standing in front of that door all the time we were busy in here!"
Though my husband tries to stop Boromir with nervous glances in my direction, his lover completely ignores me and stares balefully at Elessar.
"You are their king, for heaven's sake! You are so thoughtful, so wise, but it seems to me that your wits desert you as soon as it comes to our love."
All the while, I pretend to be somewhere else, watching the tea in my cup, listening with complete concentration. Up until now, all was working as I hoped it would.
Maybe we can crack that nut between us if we apply pressure from both sides.
"Please, Boromir," I say, my voice a paragon of conciliatory calm. "I am sure he knows what he does, and if you would let him speak, he will surely explain."
Now both Boromir and I turn our heads towards Elessar, our motions simultaneous as if rehearsed. I like my husband's lover. He is a brutish lout, that's for sure, but I think we make a good team.
Poor Elessar.
Get your wits up and moving, dear, if not, you'll find yourself pretty soon caught between a rock and hard place.
Or a brick and a hard place?
Silence lengthens as we look at Elessar, waiting for a wise explanation that will never come.
"Dear?" I ask just slightly concerned.
His eyes jump from me to Boromir and back again, finally now realising where this scene had been heading.
"Your wife asked you something," Boromir says, his gestures clearly showing the fact that he is as much interested in Elessar's ideas as I am.
This works even better than imagined.
"What is this—" my husband starts, his voice brimming with barely contained anger. "What are the two of you pulling off here?"
Interesting... Elessar would never have abandoned his usual reconciliatory position...
"Your wife and I basically just want to know if you have thought of the consequences of your actions here. And not only of the two poor boys that suffered all through our celebrations of our love only because you conveniently forgot they were there."
I watch my husband in growing fascination. That anger glinting in his eyes, the way he defiantly squares his shoulders... How long has it been since I saw my husband look like this...
"Conveniently? You think that's been easy for me? You think I did that out of boredom?"
Now his voice even starts to carry a note of aggression, of subdued will to fight and win.
This no longer is High King Elessar, nor any longer the man I've been living with for five years.
This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, the mortal I fell in love with.
The mortal I will fall in love with every time.
The man I have been missing dearly by my side for such a long time...
"No, but maybe you called me back without thinking first about the consequences, the impact my life would have on your marriage, on your reign."
"You would rather have stayed dead? How can you be so—"
"Ungrateful? How do you even dare to think that I owe you gratitude for what you have done? You have brought me to a situation where I only cause hurt to the people around me, and—"
"I never said anything about gratitude, Boromir, never—"
"Don't you try to change the subject, you still have no idea how to solve this, and your indecisiveness only hurts those you pretend to love."
Suddenly, quick as lightening, Aragorn turns around, and violently hits his enraged lover across the face.
The distinct slap resounds loudly in the tiny room, and as I jump up from the bed where I had been sitting, the tray and the tea-set on it clatter to the ground, shoved out of its balance by my husband's sudden movement.
The clanging sound of silver hitting the ground and the low gurgle of spilled tea and cream are the only sounds in the little room for a moment that seems to stretch into eternity.
I look both at Aragorn and Boromir, my heart pounding in my chest, both men fixing each other with lethal looks, luckily both reluctant to break into even more violence.
This is one pivotal thing I have missed, I realise with pang of fear.
Elessar might have been calm and peaceful—yet Aragorn was a fighter.
If I press him too hard, he won't yield, he'll fight. That is something I truly have overlooked, and I might have to pay dearly for that mistake.
For once in my life, I am without a plan, unprepared, completely at a loss on how to untangle this mess I have brought upon myself.
Valar, help me...
Both men in the bed glare at each other, ready to fight, to jump each other at a moment's notice. The tension in the room is almost tangible.
"Estel?" I say calmly, proud of what little control I still have over my voice. I do not really have to concentrate on sounding frightened, but nevertheless I managed to make my husband react to the name he bore when he was still a child.
He shoots one last baleful look at Boromir, then turns around to me, deep lines of sorrow engraved on his face.
For a moment, our eyes meet, and I know how much Boromir's comment has hurt him, and yet I also see that his violent outbreak hurts him so much more. He is afraid of losing Boromir, afraid of losing me by scaring me with his violent side.
I flash a tiny smile at him, trying to convey as much consolation as possible, before turning to Boromir, who's still sitting on the bed, all ready to fight, the left side of his face reddening suspiciously.
"Boromir?" I say, as gently and concerned as I can.
And with a last look at my husband, sighing, his eyes gleaming moist, he turns his eyes to me as well.
I do not know what to say.
"I—" I begin, unnerved by the fact that my mind seems to have run out of words.
When all else fails, my mother used to say, let your heart speak. So I do.
"He called you out of love, Boromir, for nothing else. And it was me who encouraged him."
Both men blink at me in slight surprise. Boromir, for he had never even thought of the possibility that I would actually want him to be with my husband, and Aragorn, he must notice how lost I feel, how much I rely on instinct right now.
Valar, I am becoming human...
"Even if he has not thought about how to share our lives, I haven't done so either. Something like this has never happened, and we..."
I stop, for I realise where my heart wants me to go. My heart tells me to pledge my loyalty to Boromir, to say that I will try to see him happy as this would be what my husband's happiness demands, that I would accept him as an equal, what we would be in court.
All I want is to see my husband happy.
But, it was just this kind of mutual commitment I'd been trying to circumvent in the first place, this was what I was trying to block by coming here this afternoon.
I am his wife, the mother of his son. And I am the one he should love, the very one who should be at his side, at court as well as in bed.
I am willing to give him his sport, to let him have his fun, if this is what he needs to be happy, but committing myself to his lover?
Why should I?
Am I not gracious,?
So why then do I feel so unbearably selfish when I try to put myself above him in status where I belong?
I can almost feel the disgusted frown of my grandmother all the way across the western sea. She had never been one to share, much less someone to give away parts of what she owned completely. She would never have lowered herself to this.
But she has been burdened and lonely all the ages of her life.
I have chosen love above life once already, so I cannot bring myself to stay as aloof as I should.
Just as I discover what to do, the men in the bed re-capture my attention. They both look at me, more worried than angry, concerned, for I must have been silent far longer than was appropriate, and I manage a faint smile to show them I will be fine.
Hopefully.
Father, forgive me what I am about to do.
Grandmother, I know you will think of me as weak, but my heart has always been stronger than my pride.
Mother—you know why I do this, don't you?
With a sigh, I walk towards the bed, climbing onto it in a most undignified manner, ignoring the ominous protesting sounds it makes.
Kneeling down between the two men, I take a hand of each in one of my own, smiling.
"Aragorn," I begin, now finally finding words in my head again. "I love you, and I know you love me more than any wife can ask of her husband. We both know that as soon as it comes to that huge boy next to you, you tend to be thoughtless and uninspired."
He tries to say something in opposition, but I silence him with a gesture.
"Luckily, I do not suffer from the same kind of disability when he's around."
The conspiring glance and wink I give to Boromir manages to calm his worries, but it does naught to reassure my husband.
"So, if I may offer a solution, it might prevent the three of us from suffering any more heartbreak than we already had to endure."
Now both of them look at me in astonished curiosity.
Boy, can the two of them look cute when they're neither brawling nor bitching.
I turn my attention to Boromir, saying:
"I hardly have known you, Boromir of Gondor, and though I never had any special reason to like you, you already have earned my gratitude and my admiration."
Oh, he truly is sweet when he blinks in ignorant irritation. For a man with such a temper he truly has a surprising amount of innocence left.
"I am grateful to you for you are good for my husband. He loves you, it makes him happy merely to know that you're around. And, if I may say so—you keep him on edge and give him enough to be irritated about that his wits won't dull in the endless wastes of court-life."
Drawing in a deep breath, my husband looks at me in amused exasperation, while his lover fiendishly grins at each of us in turn
"I like you, Boromir of Gondor." I say. "And as it seems that we're going to share the same man, I think we both know that we'll have a very unusual and difficult relationship ahead of us."
A slight frown now creases my husband's lover's face, and I feel his hand tensing up in mine.
You do have nothing to fear, I think to myself, so don't worry, you gondorian brick.
"You kindly offered me and my love precedence over yours and I have thought about that. I do not think this is any way the two of us can live together, and would thus only bring grievance to the heart of the man we both love."
Now he's truly afraid. Both of them.
"We all know that love can be neither measured nor divided, and so judging our loves would be more than foolish. So, if you do not mind, I would like to see you as equal, standing to my husband's other side. And whatever quarrels the two of us might have, we will have to sort out one by one, as it has to be in any relationship."
Both Boromir and my husband stare at me in bewilderment, and the calm, soothing feeling in my heart tells me that I have done right. Accepting Boromir's jerky nod with a gracious inclination of my head, I turn to my husband.
"And before you ask, husband dear, how to explain Boromir's sudden reappearance, I'd say we won't explain anything at all."
Grinning conspiratively, I go on:
"After all, the hands of the King are the hands of a healer, and no-one will ever doubt another miracle performed by your hands. And apart from that, none of us will ever say a word about what has happened in these rooms today."
"And you think this will work?" Aragorn asks, unconvinced yet eager to be.
"Of course it will—your people love you," I say, my face beaming with relief that none of them rejected my idea of mutual commitment.
My husband merely shrugs, looking over to his lover, as if looking for his agreement.
But Boromir grins as well, an expression of what-the-hell on his face, obviously willing to take on any future challenge.
Aragorn looks back to me, then to Boromir again and back once more, then says slightly exasperated:
"You two make a scary team, you know that?"
Boromir and I only answer with a smile and another exchange of knowing looks.
Yes, we team up pretty well, and if ever Aragorn should manage to anger both of us, he'll truly be faced with overwhelming odds.
Poor him, in a way.
But he invited it in, didn't he? Well, now that's what he got.
Two lovers to keep happy, two lovers that will neither let him grow old or neglectful.
The look on his face clearly shows that he also has realised what kind of commitment he has accepted. And he doesn't seem convinced that he'll be up to the challenge.
I smile at him most graciously.
"We will just keep you fit and healthy, dear..."
Aragorn pouts at me, smiling, pulling me close to his face, kissing me.
"A good rooster never grows fat, anyway, as my nanny used to say," I hear Boromir's voice through my husband's kiss, and I am still trying to figure out what that is supposed to mean as Aragorn puts me back onto the bed, hiding a dirty smile as he turns to Boromir, obviously a reprimand on his lips.
"What?" Boromir replies before my husband even has the chance to open his mouth. "We all know how draining such double demands can be on a man..."
Oh. That's what he meant.
Hiding a blush, I try to sit back and get into a remotely decent position as a knock on the study door stops all conversation.
All three of us look at each other for a mere moment, then I stand up, straightening my dress.
As I walk to the door of the study, I turn around to look at them once more, still sitting unclad in the bed, watching me.
They are sweet, no doubt about that.
"Get yourselves dressed!" I order in a low voice, delighting in their expressions, futilely searching for their clothes.
I turn around myself, and a single glance into the study confirms my fears: widely strewn across the place, my husband's clothes lay almost everywhere, yet not a single piece seems to belong to Boromir.
Another knock on the door.
"My Lady? Are you in there?"
The hesitating voice of Eldarion's nanny. Probably my sweet little son is inconsolable for not having seen his parents for more than an hour.
As I turn towards the small sleeping-room again, I see both men still sitting there as if nailed to the bed, staring at me.
"What?" I ask in a hushed voice, then, loud enough to be heard on the hallway:
"Yes Lyssa, only one moment!"
I look at my husband again, grinning, saying in a low voice:
"That is our son out there! Don't you think I know by now how you look naked?"
I grin with mirth, and I see my smile mirrored in Boromir's face, while my husband starts to get his long legs out of the tangled cover of the bed.
"Now get your pretty little backside moving, King Elessar the much-demanded, and help me collect your clothes, or we'll have to do much more explaining than merely why the late Prince of Gondor is suddenly very much alive and lying in the bed of my husband's study."
Grinning himself now, he stands up, naked, beautiful, lovely. I try to turn around to the study, but he holds me by my shoulders, turns me around and kisses me passionately.
"Thank you," he says, his eyes gleaming.
I'm not sure what he meant, but his gratitude sounded pretty much all-encompassing.
Within seconds, we collect the clothes from all over the room, and as I walk over to him to give him my pile, I ask softly:
"Only one thing: can anyone explain me why the King of Gondor has to have a bed in his private study?"
At first, Aragorn blinks at me in irritation, but when he sees the mirth sparkling in my eyes, he returns my grin in kind, and with a blown kiss and a gentle slap on my back sends me off towards the door.
I wait until I hear him close the bedroom door before I open the door's latch I had wisely closed when I entered these rooms.
My, my, I think to myself, these are going to be interesting times, and I open the door...
End of story...
And they lived happily ever after...
(I always wanted to write that! Ha!)
by Osiris Brackhaus
rwen!" my poor husband sputters in disbelief.
Our husband.
Elessar.
Aragorn.
Whatever.
I hope, I desperately hope that I get this right.
I hope we will.
I hope...?
