Anarion had been very much disturbed by his ada's sudden illness. He was not used to seeing his parents helpless or overcome in any way. For the past week, he had spent most of his time sitting in Legolas's chamber, eating, talking, or reading, and he became upset whenever anyone tried to make him leave. He wanted to be able to see his ada all the time, as if he were afraid that something else would happen to him. After Legolas regained some of his strength, he was finally able to persuade his son that everything would be well, and that he should go outdoors. Anarion had been reluctant at first, but a morning spent with his friends on the hillsides outside the city had soon lifted his spirits, and for now he seemed to have forgotten his worries. After lunch he had hugged his parents briefly and run back again to rejoin his playmates for the afternoon.
Boromir also took the opportunity to leave his husband's bedside and breathe in the fresh air. He decided to clean out the stables and feed the horses, for the physical labour would clear his mind, and he would rather be among those gentle beasts than in the company of other people. The loss of his unborn child still grieved him, and now and then he needed his moments alone.
It was not only for himself that he felt pain, but for his husband. He had seen Legolas struggle in his recovery after the attack of the Nazgul, and it had been his most fervent wish that the elf never underwent such an ordeal ever again. Yet now here they were, with their marriage breaking down, and the unborn child that might have brought them together had been sloughed away from the elf's body in a mess of blood. As he raked over the straw despondently, he thought of how hard he had fought to defend his union with Legolas against the censure of others. It seemed that it had all been for nothing. But although he might have despaired, he had a staunch heart.
"I will make it work between us," he told himself firmly. "He is precious to me, and he has given me Anarion, and I will do everything I can to make him happy."
His reverie was broken by the sounds of shouts and cries somewhere near him. He looked up and saw a group of children running in all directions, not in the spirit of play, but in some alarm or distress. As he was about to approach them, they saw him and came running down towards him, crying out.
"Sir! Sir, please!"
"What is the matter, child? You look pale as a spirit."
"It's Anarion, sir! Please, come quickly!"
Boromir felt his throat tighten, although why he should be so afraid he did not know.
"Why? What has happened?"
But the small boy only gasped and shook his head, as if he could not explain.
"What has happened? Anybody?" There was silence from the usually boisterous crowd. Boromir looked at the terrified faces around him, and recognised one child as the gardener's daughter, a plucky and sensible little girl if he remembered rightly.
"Brega, tell me now. I will not scold, I promise. Tell me if Anarion is in trouble."
"I don't know, sir," she said softly, her voice little more than a whisper. "A man came. A man on a great horse. He told Anarion to follow him into the woods."
Boromir now began walking alongside the children, back to the fields where they played, and with every moment, he walked faster and faster. "A man? What man?"
"I don't know. I never saw him before."
"And then?"
"And then we were afraid, and we told him not to go, but he would not listen. I think - I think he has gone with him!"
"Oh, he was horrible!" cried another child suddenly, choking back a sob. "We knew it was wrong to go with him, we knew we had to run away!"
A strange sense of panic fluttered around in Boromir's heart, for he did not know what could have frightened these children so much that they should have abandoned their playmate to find him.
"Did he have a weapon? A sword?"
"No, no."
"Did Anarion cry out? Or ask you to help him?"
"No, we tried to keep him back, but he wanted to go. They went within the trees where we could not see."
Boromir was striding at full pace now, and many of the smaller children had been left behind. The older ones hurried with him, but were no less perturbed.
"Please, sir, please hurry! Come quickly!" they said, and the dread in their faces drew itself into black imaginings in Boromir's mind. He saw his son kidnapped, or killed, and clearer than all these dull fears was the thought that he, the boy's father, had not been there to help him. He remembered the promise he had made Legolas on the night of his proposal. If their child came to any harm, his husband would never forgive him.
"Where was he last?" he asked fretfully, coming at last to the open fields beside the woods.
"Just down here. Anarion? Anarion, are you there?" The others joined in, calling for him by name. There was no reply. Boromir strode forwards and shouted with the full force of his lungs.
"Anarion! Anarion!"
A few moments later, a familiar voice chirped in reply.
"Is that you, Papa? Why are you shouting for me?" Anarion had been sitting a little way out of sight in the long grass. Now he got up and went towards them, putting something small away in his pocket. Boromir rushed to him and swept him into his arms.
"Oh, you are alright! Thank the Valar!" Anarion managed to pull himself out of the embrace, a slightly puzzled expression on his face.
"What's the matter, Papa? Of course I am alright." And indeed, when Boromir looked at him, his son was as carefree and cheerful as ever. Anarion noticed his friends, crowding nervously in the background.
"There you are!" he cried. "I was wondering where you had gone. Why did you all run away?"
They looked at each other, shamefaced.
"We were frightened. That man . . . I don't know, but when I saw him I thought my blood had frozen cold."
"Oh. But he did me no harm at all."
"Where is he now, Anarion?" asked Boromir.
"He has gone now. He left that way," he pointed.
"And why did he take you to the woods?"
"He said he had something important to talk to me about." Anarion did not seem to find it strange that men on horseback should request to speak to him about important matters. Boromir crouched beside him.
"Did he know you?"
"I think he must have done." The boy clambered up into his father's lap and began to frown and pick at blades of grass. "But I did not know him. I could not see his face."
"Why not?"
"He had a black hood on. He was dressed all in black. His horse was black too."
A shiver seemed to go round the other children as they remembered the strange man's apparel, but Anarion did not notice. Boromir struggled to maintain his composure. A black rider, on a black horse! But it was impossible. It could not be.
"What did he say to you?"
"I can't remember. Lots of things."
"What sort of things, Anarion?"
"Well, he asked me who my parents were. I told him that my father was Steward to the King. Then he asked me if I had an elven parent as well. I told him yes. Then he said was my elven father from Mirkwood, and I told him yes he does come from Mirkwood, where my uncle and my grandpa live."
Boromir was quiet for a moment. Anarion was looking at him with innocent large eyes, and it was clear that whatever had terrified his playmates had left him untouched. Boromir could not quite explain it.
"It is getting dark, children," he said at last, standing up. "Come, I will take you all home." Anarion climbed onto his back. "Can I sit with Ada?" he asked.
"Yes, we will go see him now. But Anarion?"
"Yes?"
"Do not tell him about this man you saw today. It will only worry him, and he has not been very well. And do not go talking to strangers on your own again, it is not safe."
"Yes, Papa."
"Do you promise?"
He frowned, but nodded.
"Good."
They went up to Legolas's bedchamber together, where a soft candlelight burned in the lamps. The elf was wrapped in layers of warm coverlets, for his face and hands were pale and cold to the touch, and his breathing was heavy and laboured. Every bone felt so weak, every muscle ached with pain. It was strange, but his sickness made him even more beautiful to look at. The clammy moisture of his skin caused his face to glow in the dim light, and his dark green eyes were limpid and bright. Boromir's breath halted when he saw him as he lay, so helpless and so lovely.
"Ada, it is me!" came the cry, and Anarion rushed to his side to hold him. Smiling weakly, Legolas leaned over and kissed his forehead.
"Come here, my little one," he said. Boromir lifted the child onto the bed so that he could curl up beside his ada. He sat down himself beside his husband.
"How are you?" he said softly.
"A little better, I think. The healer has given me a tonic to ease the pain." He ruffled a hand through Anarion's hair.
"Have you been a good boy?" he asked him. "You have not been giving your papa any trouble, I hope?"
"No more than usual," smiled Boromir. "Come, I will ask for supper to be brought for all of us."
So they ate together by the bedside, as Legolas propped himself up on his pillow and took a bowl of clear broth. Anarion told them all about his day - which games he had played, which races he had run, which trees he had climbed, and which creatures he had seen. He showed them where he had fallen and cut his knee with great pride, for he was hoping to one day have as many scars across his body as his papa did. And as usual, he had some gifts for his ada. Eagerly he put into the elf's outstretched hands a bright petal, a delicate leaf skeleton and a broken piece of blue eggshell.
"Thank you, Anarion. I will keep them by my bedside, so I can think of you until I am better."
"I will get you more tomorrow," he promised. "But please get well soon, Ada. Papa is very sad without you."
"Is he now?" said Legolas softly.
"He is," said Boromir ardently, and kissed his husband's cheek. "But it is bedtime for you, little one. Up you get," and he hoisted Anarion up into his arms. "Kiss your ada and say goodnight."
The little boy leant over and kissed Legolas, but as he did so, a small pebble-like something slipped out of his pocket and onto the bedspread. He reached out with his plump fist to take it back, but Legolas was quicker.
"What is this, Anarion?" he said mildly, holding it up to the light. Anarion said nothing. His ada's tone suddenly changed.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, and he sounded startled. Boromir leaned over to look. The elf was clutching a small gold pendant inlaid with rubies. It was a fine piece of craftsmanship, and it was in the shape of a Red Eye.
Anarion looked to his papa, for he had promised not to say anything about the visitor on horseback.
"Anarion, answer me!" cried Legolas. "Where did you find this?"
"Did he give this to you?" asked Boromir sternly.
"Who?" said the elf.
"A man came and spoke to Anarion this evening. I did not want to worry you about it."
"A man? What man? What is this all about?" Legolas looked from one to the other in distress.
"It was for my birthday, he said," admitted the boy, reaching out to take it back. "I told him that he had the wrong day, but he just laughed and said it did not matter."
The colour drained from Legolas's face. He looked at Boromir in desperation.
"Never mind, Anarion," said the man. "To bed now. Come on."
"Can I have it back, please?" he asked, holding out his hand. Legolas hesitated, but Boromir took the little pendant and gave it to the boy. "Let him take it. It is nothing, Legolas. Only a trinket." He carried Anarion upstairs to his bed, but his mind was elsewhere. To ensure that others believed their son had been born after his parents were married, they celebrated his birthday in March. But that was not the true date of his birth. The true date, as he and Legolas both knew, was this very day. How anyone could have known, Boromir did not dare think about. When he returned, Legolas's hands were writhing with agitation.
"Tell me everything, Boromir," he said immediately, and Boromir had no choice but to reluctantly tell him what had happened. When he had finished, the elf's eyes looked dull and glazed.
"It is him," he whispered. "It must be him. He has come to take my child back."
"Impossible," said Boromir firmly. "He was destroyed. It cannot be."
"He was thought destroyed many times, and yet returned," said Legolas, and he leaned back on his pillow, barely daring to breathe. "By the Valar, if it is he, I do not think I could endure it."
"Legolas, you fear the worst. More likely someone intends to frighten us both, and they have dressed as the witch-king, and given Anarion a sign of Sauron, to play some kind of foolish game."
Legolas was staring at the patterns on his bedspread. Unconsciously, his hand had moved to the ugly bite mark at his throat.
"Whoever it was, it can only mean one thing," he said at last. "Somebody knows. Somebody has found out."
Boromir took a deep breath and nodded. "But I do not see how," he said. "Even if someone guessed that he was not my son by blood, no one knows of your attack by the Nazgul except the rest of the fellowship. And they would never betray that secret."
"It does not matter. However it happened, the fact is that someone knows the truth."
"My guess is that they will try and blackmail us over it. But there is not much we can do but wait and see." The elf did not seem to be listening. He was lost in despair, and when he spoke his voice was dull.
"I had believed for all these years that I was safe. Now I will be looking over my shoulder at every turn. I will not sleep for fear of the truth becoming known."
Boromir considered this for a while.
"Have you ever thought," he began cautiously, "of relieving this burden yourself? I know we always said that Anarion should never know of the man who fathered him. But perhaps, if our families were to know, they would not be so overcome. They might be a support to you, Legolas. They have stood by you through your marriage, have they not? And who is to say - maybe when he is of age, Anarion himself should be told the truth, and learn to accept it. Better from us, than from malicious gossip. Is that not so?"
Legolas turned his wide, clear eyes on him, and Boromir could see his own face reflected there.
"But he is so happy as he is," he said sadly. "I know why you speak as you do, only I do not know if I could bring myself to explain it all to him." He reached out and clutched Boromir's large, weatherbeaten hand in his own and squeezed it.
"Please look after him for me, at least. Please, don't let anyone else hurt him."
"I won't," he replied, and he meant it.
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