After that night, they could barely look each other in the eye. Such were their duties that it was no hard task to keep themselves in separate company, and whenever they were bound to appear in concert, it was always in the presence of others. On those occasions that they did find themselves alone together, they would make hollow conversation on matters of state or local policy. But those times were few. When night fell, one or the other would come to bed late to find his partner already asleep, or at least feigning to be so.
They had greater cause than ever to be occupied when Aragorn left for the south. The rumbles of discontent had grown louder, and the king had decided that the time had come for him to see things with his own eyes. So he had departed, and taken with him a party of soldiers, leaving the temporary charge of the city to his steward. Boromir threw himself into the running of Minas Tirith with great dedication, if only because it distracted him from the burden that weighed heavily on his heart.
"I do not know what to do," he confided to his brother one day. "How can I put things right, Faramir?"
"You are over anxious, surely. Every partnership has its ups and downs, its joys and discords."
"No, no, you did not see his face." He was distressed, for he could not explain the full truth to his brother. He could not reveal his knowledge, that Legolas had settled for him, not out of love, but out of necessity. "I fear he may leave me."
"Boromir, it will be alright. He loves you, I am sure of it."
You are wrong, thought Boromir. He does not. Aloud, he said despairingly:
"I do not deserve him. He is too good for me, he always was. I should have known better than to give myself such false hopes."
"Do not be foolish. He is carrying your child. He has already borne you a son. You are bound together, and you must find a way through this. Boromir, are you listening? You must not give up."
"I don't want to. But he will not speak to me. He has not lain with me in months."
"Keep trying. Is he not worth fighting for? How is it that you can be so stubborn and forthright in every other sphere, but fall to pieces with self-doubt in this? Men fear and respect your word when you speak in public. You have led armies to fight on your command, armies who did not flee because you told them to hold fast. And yet, when you upset your lover, you admit defeat and would relinquish any chance of the happiness you have always longed for. Here he comes, now. Speak to him."
Legolas and Eowyn had entered the room.
"The council is starting soon," said Eowyn. "You should go to the halls, if you wish to be present, my Lord."
"Yes, let us go," said Faramir, but Legolas shook his head.
"I will sit out, this time. I am a little tired."
"Nonsense," said Eowyn. "You have to be there. You are consort to the Steward. Don't worry about Anarion, I will look after him. He will keep the children company in the garden," she said, referring to her own son and baby daughter.
"I will see you there," said Faramir, looking meaningfully at Boromir and taking his wife by the arm, so that he could leave the two alone together.
They stood uncomfortably for a while.
"Well," said Boromir. "It should be quiet enough at court today. We will finish early, I think."
Legolas nodded distractedly.
"Perhaps," he tried again, "if we do not go on too late, we can leave Anarion with his aunt and uncle and have a meal for just the two of us. It would be pleasant to eat outside tonight, don't you think?"
Legolas shrugged. "We will see. I have some work to attend to."
Boromir, his heart breaking, tried to look into the elf's eyes, but Legolas was staring at the ground.
"Alright, then," he sighed. "Another time, maybe. Come, we will be late."
They went silently to court, and took their places on the raised dais at the head of the hall. Faramir was already there, sitting in his chair on one side of the room. He caught Boromir's eye, and his expression clearly inquired into how things had gone. Boromir gave the slightest shake of his head, and then quickly turned away.
The court assembled, and soon proceedings began. Boromir was happy enough to take over the duties of the King, although he was not a man for long conversations and endless discussion, and would not have enjoyed the role had it been his permanently. He was impatient, and preferred a plan of action. But he was impressed at how eloquently Legolas spoke at court, and with such authority. The years of training for princehood had not been lost on the elf, and those that had doubted his abilities were soon silenced. Boromir could not help but wonder how other men must envy him, to have such a beautiful and noble creature at his side. If only they knew, he thought to himself sadly.
The hours passed, and all had gone well. As Boromir had predicted, the meeting was coming to an early close. He had just asked if there were any other matters to be discussed, to which the answer was no, and had been about to call a close to court, when a shout went up from the floor.
"Wait!" called the voice. Faramir had gotten to his feet. "Legolas! He is not well!"
The Steward turned to his side and saw that Legolas had gone rigid in his seat. His face was very white and covered with a sheen of cold sweat. Boromir turned to touch his shoulder, but his hand froze in midair and he cried out, for he saw then that the elf's robes and chair were soaked with blood. With a gasp, Legolas slumped over and would have fallen to the floor, had not Boromir caught him in his arms.
"Quick!" he cried, horrified. "Get help!"
Faramir was dispatched in an instant as the elf continued to bleed. He returned with the healer, who bent down immediately to tend to the stricken figure. But Boromir clutched at his husband tightly, for the eyes rolled up in Legolas's head and he began to jerk and twitch uncontrollably, as if possessed.
"What is happening?" he cried. "What is wrong?"
"Stand back everyone, please!" said the healer, for a crowd of anxious courtiers surrounded them. He then unscrewed a vial and, with great difficulty, poured a colourless tincture down the elf's throat. The seizure appeared to pass. Boromir breathed sharply.
"Legolas! Legolas, can you hear me, my dear?" Legolas moved and sighed, but he appeared drowsy.
"Legolas! It is I, Boromir. I am with you, my dear." Legolas opened his eyes and a shudder went through him. He bent his head towards his husband and murmured his name softly.
"He has lost much blood," muttered the healer, who was gently feeling the elf's abdomen. A moment later, he stopped and pressed his lips together grimly.
"Pardon me, sir," he said, and he looked unwilling to speak. "It is as I feared. The child is lost."
A dead weight fell on Boromir's heart. He squeezed his husband's hand.
"Do you speak the truth?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"I am sorry. He has miscarried. His body has rejected the child."
"No," came a moan, and Legolas began to weep. "No, no."
Faramir looked at them sadly as they held each other.
"I am so sorry, my lord," whispered the elf, as he buried his head against Boromir's shoulder. "Please forgive me. Forgive me for losing your son."
Boromir cradled him and brushed the tears from his dark green eyes.
"It is alright, my dear, it is alright. " He appeared to be trying to comfort himself as well as his distraught husband. "We are both young. We can try again. We will have another child." Legolas sobbed and shook his head.
"It is all my fault. I have failed you."
"No, no."
"Yes. The Valar punish me for my sins. I longed for this child, and now our unborn son is dead."
"Such misfortunes happen, my love. They are part of our lives, and we must learn to bear them."
But Legolas was inconsolable.
"We will have to take him to his chamber," said the healer. "His body has suffered a sore trial. I have herbs to help him, but he must be confined to bed for the next few weeks."
And so Boromir lifted his husband and carried him upstairs to his rooms. He hushed him and tried to make him sleep, but it was no use. Night came and went, but the elf lay wide awake, the tears running from his eyes.
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