Ghosts

[Pinkie]

Haldir was an emotive man - but emotive in the manner of Elves, not humans. He did care if he hurt other people's feelings but when one lived as long as an elf did, one learned not to dally around certain topics. Facing things head on serve a more worthy purpose than avoiding the subject and seeing time chip away at the issue, causing it to transform into something ugly and vicious.

Boromir said:

"He has indeed returned, He should be here soon, I ordered him to attend on pain of death. Don't you be getting any ideas about my sister, Elf, I'll not be having any Lórien savage as a brother."

The elf nodded his noble head at Boromir's reply. His eyebrows lifted when Boromir told him he had ordered the younger of the sons to attend under pain of death. Sometimes human humour just did not seem funny to him and he had a hard time discerning humour from honesty. He assumed, knowing how much Boromir loved his younger brother, that he was joking but Haldir did not know where the humour was precisely.

When Boromir made his second joke about 'ideas' and Elendur, Haldir rolled his earthen colored eyes and suppressed a hard sigh. Boromir only really ever thought of one thing when there were women present. How he managed to move from woman to woman was beyond the Elf. Lifting his noble chin, Haldir turned to look over his shoulder towards the door - wondering if he could escape without too much of a fuss.

It was not that Elendur was not beautiful - she was. But she knew she was beautiful. And she was not Elvish. It was hard to love someone who was but a young child in years compared to himself. It was while he looked over his shoulder that Haldir spotted Faramir standing with a lovely little creature. The Elf's lips twitched and he cocked his head to the side causing his silvery blonde hair to fall down over his shoulder. Without looking back at Boromir, Haldir nodded his head.

"It appears you will not have to kill your brother, Savage." Haldir countered with something close to humour though it did not sound it in his voice nor his bland expression. His earth colored eyes turned to look at Boromir and he felt that tug inside of his heart ... the knowledge that he was about to witness something pivotal. Something bright was moving yet something dark was trying to eclipse it. This contrast showed in the troubled expression on the Elf's face and his eyes pinned on Boromir's face intently.

"Something is stirring. Do you feel it?" he asked quietly, frowning, his ethereal beauty darkened momentarily.

[Pinkie]

She was flippant and negligent. Thrace was wreckless - everyone knew it. If she cuold have seduced one of their captors she would have done it. Without a second thought. It was not that she considered herself or her 'virtue' expendable, she just didn't put such a high price on it as most people would. And if it helped get her out of a pickle then why the fuck not? Lake wuoldn't understand. He had never been in a situation where he had had to use his sexuality to prevent him being hurt. He had never had to surrender to the attentions and gross grubby hands of the opposite sex just to prevent it being called 'rape'. Thrace never babied herself though. She accepted what happened in her life and moved on. Most of the time.

Lake said:

"Believe me, Barbie, even a smoke wouldn't help you pull, the state you're in. You look about as rough as I feel, and that's pretty fucking rough I can tell ya. Don't think they've been out here long enough to risk it. I think we should wait and see where they're taking us, We haven't actually done anything wrong, they might just be following orders. Plus West will be missing us by now. If we make a break for it we might lead these fuckers right to the others. At least if it's just us they've got we've got a chance of being rescued."

The blonde gave a hoarse laugh at Lake's assessment of her as he tried to sit. It gave her a small moment of pleasure to see him in pain but that moment was squashed when she tried to move and felt an equal level of pain. Tipping her head back, she sucked her bottom lip and listened to the reassuring, husky tone of the Captain. It was an annoying prick at the best of times but he did have one thing going for him - his voice. He always sounded so non-chalant. As if nothing in the world could touch him.

Thrace gave a nod at the man's words and turned to meet his eye. But only for a moment before a voice sounded and a hand reached down to grab her by the scruff of the neck and haul her to her feet. The blonde gave a surprised, hoarse gasp of pain and flinched, shrugging away from the touch initially.

Lake said:

"Leave her alone you fucker, If you want us to move you only have to ask."

It took a while for Thrace to realise what had just happened. She was shoved forward and walked at an awkward pace, her ankles tied together making her totter forward almost on her tippy toes to keep at the brisk pace that those behind set for them. She glanced over at Lake and frowned. Why had he stuck up for her like that? Did he think he had to talk on her behalf, defend her? Of all things in this world that Thrace was not - it was weak. She didn't depend on anyone for anything. It surprised her, and everyone, that she was able to work as a part of SG2 so flawlessly. It was only her admiration and respect for West that made that so.

"I can look out for myself ya know. You might wanna look out for yourself a bit more Sir... I'm perfectly able to watch my own ass." she said with a slight hint of irritation in her tone. It was unfair but she didn't want to be treated all sissy-like - just because she was the only girl on the team.

They were being led towards the city, onwards and upwards. People spread out and gave them a wide berth as they moved onto the paved paths and were led upwards and into an immense palace. Thrace stared open mouthed at the building. Dried blood caked on her chin and there was dirt on her hollow cheeks. Her hazel eyes were rimmed with dark circles as she looked around the place and came to a standstill at a room. There was music somewhere in the palace.

The blonde frowned as her and Lake were locked into a room - it was no prison certainly.

"Wait here. Don't move. Don't speak." one of the men ordered severely then left two guards outside the door and lcked it behind him as he went t fetch his master.

"Fuck -- this place is ..." she murmured, walking around with her hands tied behind her back, looking at the ornaments and hunkering down to look in glass cupboards.

[Pinkie]

Eonan & Elendur:

Elendur noticed the eyes of the elf on her but chose not to react to it. It was a compliment of the highest order to be looked at by an elf whose women were of the most exquisitely beautiful in Middle Earth. Still it was not unusual for her to have stolen the show. And stood next to the consistently rather dowdy Eonan certainly helped matters. Just as she moved off to go towards her brother, Boromir, Elendur noticed Faramir and then the Elf noticed him also.

The blonde brightened considerably and her back straightened, a playful light dawning in her grey blue eyes. That playfulness turned to delight when she saw that he came with a woman no less! Elendur let out a shocked laugh as she stepped in next to Boromir and nodded her head towards the two -

"Now there is something I did not expect. What did you say to him?" she laughed easily. The chimes in her hair tinkled gently as she moved, the blue of her gown clung in all the right places and her clear skin seemed to glow. Eonan had followed but stood a few paces behind the blonde. Her chilly blue eyes were downcast and her hands were wrung together in front of her flat stomach.

[Bogwoppit]

"It appears you will not have to kill your brother, Savage."

Boromir frowned at Haldir, before following his line of sight to see his little brother entering the hall. At first he didn't notice, or rather, dismissed as a coincidence, the woman who entered at his side, distracted by Haldir's portent of doom.

"Something is stirring. Do you feel it?"

He rolled his eyes, ready to laugh at the Elf's ominous tone. Too often was Haldir far too serious for his own good. He needed to learn to lighten up a bit. What he needed was a good woman... not Boromir's sister though...

As his eyes met those infinitely ancient orbs of the Elf though he paused, the smile fading from his face. Sometimes, just sometimes, Haldir spoke the truth; sometimes when he said something was about to happen, happen it did, and Boromir had to admit that he was right more often than not if he were being honest. Faramir was the one who had convinced him to listen to Haldir's words of wisdom, and Boromir, despite being the elder, had learned to trust his brother's judgment in matters of the mind.

In his youth the heir to the steward had been too hasty, jumping in too soon where his brother would have stood back and assessed the situation. Denethor had admired that quality in his eldest son, for they were very similar in their outlook, and had berated the younger for his reticence, but Boromir had always admired the deep thinking reasoning of his brother, and had come to look to him for advice in such matters, even if he didn't make it obvious that was what he was doing.

So now he did not laugh, but tried to feel what Haldir felt. He could not, being too impatient to stay still for too long with his thoughts, and so took Haldir's word for it.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice low so as not to be overheard.

His father did not hold with the Elf being there at all, let alone being an adviser of sorts, but even Denethor dared not go against the wishes of Galadriel and Elrond, and so he put up with the situation. Still, Boromir knew he would be in for a scornful lecture if Denethor should overhear. He might be his father's favourite, but that didn't stop him from being on the receiving end of the steward's spiteful tongue on occasion.

At that moment he heard Elendur's voice beside him, and turned to smile down at her, not wanting her to become aware of any tension. The mousy one stood behind his sister, and Boromir bit back a scathing comment about shadows. It seemed that wherever his sister went, so went the mouse these days, everywhere Boromir turned there she was, blushing or pale as ice, gazing at him or studying the floor. Really, he would have to just bed her one of these days and have done with it.

"Now there is something I did not expect. What did you say to him?"

Boromir followed Elendur's gaze to rest on their little brother once again, and his eyebrows shot up into his shaggy dark blond fringe when he realised what she was talking about. Faramir, with a woman! Now there was a turn-up, and a nice one at that. Boromir had lost all hope of his brother ever following in his footsteps and becoming a real man, bedding women where he could, like any red-bloodied male should, but now here he was, not five minutes after arriving minus his wife, with a quite presentable looking female in tow.

"Well well," he mused, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Good for Faramir."

He did not notice one of the citadel guards approach his father and whisper in the steward's ear, but when Denethor called to him he turned, eyeing the man questioningly.

"There is a matter for you to attend," Denethor told him blandly, still watching Faramir from the corner of his eye. A corner of his twisted mouth turned up in a sneer. "Take your brother with you."

[Bogwoppit]

The gong made Miriel jump, and she looked around with a wide-eyed gaze as people began to drift onto the floor. The music instantly made her think of happier times, but she pushed the thoughts firmly from her mind. She had agreed to attend with the son of the steward, a great honour for any woman, even if it was not a proper 'date', and so she would not ruin his evening with her long face and depression.

"Would you dance with me?"

She looked back to meet his expectant gaze in surprise, her lips already forming a 'no' automatically. She was in no mood for dancing, had not been for more than a year, and really, although the mourning period expected of her had passed over a month since, she did not feel it decent to be seen to enjoy herself. But as her grey gaze met his blue the word froze on her lips, and she felt herself drawn to him somehow. She could not explain it, but despite her determination another tiny chink appeared in the armour she had placed around her heart. Her eyes fell to his chest, the slow rise and fall of his breathing evident even beneath the jacket he wore so dashingly. He was a handsome man, but his demeanor made it plain that he did not think himself so, and Miriel felt guilty for observing such a thing even in her own mind. Tearing her gaze from his chest, she looked down at his hand where it rested on her arm. His palm felt warm through the fabric of her modest gown, and for a moment all her senses were heightened as she studied his long, elegant fingers, every fine golden hair on the back of his hand visible to her eyes. Slowly, her gaze traveled back along his arm, up to his shoulder, and across to the hollow in the base of his throat. She swallowed, and blinked quickly, looking back up into his eyes.

"Yes," she whispered without conscious thought for what she was saying.

She was tense as she followed him through the growing crowd out onto the floor, and felt a strange prickling feeling on the back of her neck, causing her to shiver. As she turned, she caught sight of Denethor again, his head bent towards Boromir as he spoke to his eldest son. Even as they began to move to the music Miriel saw Boromir look up towards them, a frown on his ruggedly handsome face.

[Pinkie]

Boromir said:

"What is it?"

Haldir was considered quite impulsive for an elf. He felt the dark stirring in the ethers and he wanted to do something about it now. Such frivolous, human things like who danced with who did not matter now. Haldir could feel the sticky, murky darkness approach and he knew no one else was sensitive enough to feel it also. He also knew that this is what he had been called to Gondor for. This was part of his destiny beginning to play out.

The man's earth-colored eyes turned to look at Elendur as she so fluffily commented on the youngest son of the Steward who danced with a woman.

Boromir & Denethor said:

"Well well, Good for Faramir."
"There is a matter for you to attend, Take your brother with you."

Haldir gritted his teeth and the tendons in his neck strained beneath the high, round collar of his jacket. He took a deep breath and lifted his chin, looking Boromir straight in the eye. He then looked beyond the son to the father and gave the Steward a blank look before turning and following Boromir. He had not been given permission but he would be a part to this 'matter' whatever it was.

Elendur's eyebrows lifted gently as she watched the men play out their games. She glanced over her shoulder at Eonan and saw the woman's face as open as it ever had been. Curiosity and sweet admiration for the older of her brothers. Rolling her grey-blue eyes, Elendur turned to the woman and linked her arm through Eonan's.

"Come with me." she smiled and led the servant through the dancing throng and out into the corridor. Once in the corridor she hurried along to where she thought the men might be going. It was girlish curiosity that bid her find out what it was that would take the men from the festival. It was as she was seeking the disturbance that she saw, coming down a perpindicular corridor, some strangely dressed people.

Elendur stopped dead in her tracks and turned down the hall to face the Gondorian guards who were leading three tall men and one horse-woman. She tilted her head to the side and then frowned.

"Who are these people? They are not Gondorian -- nor are they of Rohan." she asked with all the authority she possessed. She was a strong woman - despite her pretty size and angelic features. She was a woman who knew her place and her place, as the spoiled illegitimate child of the Steward gave her some weight. One way or another, she stood in the middle of the corridor preventing the guards from walking around her without touching her and none would dare do that.

Eonan looked over Elendur's shoulder, her icy blue eyes peering at the tall men and then to the small woman curiously. None of them seemed injured. The wmoan was definitely of Rohan but the men were ... well, they were dressed strangely. Defintely not locals.


((ooc: thinking she is distracted by West, Kawalsky, DJ & Eledhwen coming into the city while the others look to Lake & Thrace ? ))

[Pinkie]

Miriel said:

"Yes,"

Faramir held his breath as Miriel assesed him. His worthiness. Not like Boromir was he - Faramir did not believe himself with a gods-given right to any woman that pleased his eye. No. Gentle Faramir had no such misconceptions. If Miriel had refused him he would have retreated with as much grace as he could muster - and for a man like Faramir who had suffered such hurts and rejections since a young age, he had alot of practice doing that.

When she breathed her response, he let the breath out and licked his lips, bowing hs head and felt a weight lift off his shoulders.
Like her, there was no way to describe why he did what he did - he just knew he wanted to dance with her. It was not his habit to dance at all though he was quite talented in footwork.

Reaching the dancefloor, Faramir smiled at Miriel and stood back from her, bowed and then approached her in preparation for their dance. His tall, lean body loomed over her slight form as he slid an arm about her waist, low and loose on the small of her back, his other hand was firm but loose in holding her hand upwards as they started to move.

The steward's son smiled down at Miriel once they had found an easy pace in tune to the music. His feet moved perfectly, unaware of the eyes that watched him - Elendur, Boromir, Haldir and now, his father. Those eyes Faramir could not ignore completely. Those eyes he was aware of. They bore down on him, crushing his moment of happiness.

Faramir lifted his head and eyes and glanced up as he turned the two of them, the music starting to speed up a little. It seemed the world moved away frmo them as they moved - it felt like no one on the dancefloor was near them nor ever would be near them. Except Denethor. Faramir's gentle, smiling blue eyes met those of his father's and immediately his feet faltered, a hard breath escaping his lips.

Worried eyes looked back down at Miriel and he gave a bashful, half smile.

"Sorry." he whispered for his mis-step. His body, leaning against hers slightly, became tense in those moments. Every muscle in his body was taut and the columns of his throat shifted as he swallowed hard, trying to work some moisture into his mouth. Without knowing it, he had just dragged Miriel into the drama of his life. He looked down at her trying to sort out his feelings, trying to avoid his father's hateful stare but ended up just looking at her for the sake of looking at her.

The movements of the dance suited her. Her fair hair swung out behind her as they twirled and then gently brushed against his fingers on her lower back. The heat of her body seeped through the material of her gown to his palm and soothed him momentarily. The hint of a smile about her lips, the memory of a smile on her mouth made him smile. It was a gentle smile. Sorrowful but grateful.

IT was while he looked at her lips that he realised he was attracted to her. The urge to dip his head and kiss her cherry lips was strong but such urges Faramir was able to turn aside. It troubled his broken heart though. Frowning, the Steward's son looked up into Miriel's eyes and their steps slowed even as the music started to speed up. People swirled around them, some approached, but Faramir did not move. He looked down with regret and worry at Miriel. Regret that he felt anything at all for her when she was still so hurt about her husband and worry that he felt these things because he was married. Eowyn filled his mind and was Miriel not the picture of Eowyn? Perhaps that is why he felt what he did? Perhaps that is why his blue eyes could not but look back to her lips.

[Bogwoppit]

"I can look out for myself ya know. You might wanna look out for yourself a bit more Sir... I'm perfectly able to watch my own ass."

Lake stared at the back of Thrace's head as she shambled in front of him, wondering pretty much the same as she just had been, although obviously unknowingly. Why did he bother at all when all he got back was bad-mouthing? The fact was, he didn't have a clue. It wasn't as if he gave a toss what happened to her. She was just another sassy little bitch who didn't know when to shut her mouth.

"Fuck you then, you ungrateful cow," he muttered under his breath, and staggered on, his head throbbing. "Next time one of the fuckers wants something from you I'll just stand back and tell him to get on with it."

The beauties of the vast city passed him by completely unnoticed, partly because of the throbbing in his left temple, and partly because he didn't really notice much in the way of nice things these days anyway. What was the point? Unless there was something there that could help them get out of the shit they found themselves in he wasn't interested. Instead he watched the men who escorted them. They didn't look particularly sophisticated, but then, they had known to take all their weapons and their radios, so they must know what they were doing. Lake thought about trying to take out a couple of the guards as they were shoved into a room, but he was dizzy, and his ribs hurt, and to be honest all he wanted to do was sleep.

Looking round as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he frowned at Thrace, and limped over to the window. Down below, far down below, the lower reaches of the city seemed like toy buildings, lights at windows and shouts from men the worse for drink barely reaching up this far. He surmised that they must be in a room looking out over the back of the huge, ornate structure they had entered, with no way to escape, and little hope of West finding them.

"Fuck's sake Barbie stop admiring the fucking ornaments and come and untie me!" he hissed, his voice sounding loud in the large room.

He turned his back to her to wave his tied hands in her direction, causing the tight ropes to chafe. He didn't know if it was worth bothering, but he was buggered if he was going to sit here and do nothing.

[Pinkie]

Kawalsky could not help but admire the beautiful city. It was stunningly white and hard. All sharp lines and sharp angles - but it was easy on the eye. It seemed a pure place on first glimpse - but looking deeper you could see the black crevices in the white stone. You could see the gaping holes where there had been fires and the blackened stone rising above it. It was a fool who did not see the brimming putrid layer atop the white. Kawalsky was not a fool.
He always had this hesitancy about new people, about Aliens.

He followed the guards at a steady pace, looking with cold blue eyes here and there as they entered the city. There was a faint hint of music in the air, the buzz of excitement rippling about them.

West said:

"Talkative bunch aren't they?"

Kawalsky gave a mirthless smile at his CO's humour. He licked his lips and shrugged his broad shoulders. For such a big man he seemed to feel quite helpless when he didn't have a weapon - especially when the guards walked off and left them with the horse girl. During their journey together Kawalsky had not thawed to her at all. He watched her carefully while the other two men seemed to have accepted her -- especially DJ. It irritated Kawalsky. Aliens were rarely friendly for hte love of God! Why trust them?

One guard came back and led them into the fortress - Kawalsky sniffed and followed mutely. His spine was cold as ice - he constantly felt like someone was watching them as they moved down richly though sparsely decorated corridors. He saw the flash of golden hair ahead and lifted his head attentively, frowning hard as a woman reappeared with another behind her. She was stunning - glowing practically. Kawalsky lifted his chin defensively and stepped up closer to West's shoulder.

Elendur said:

"Who are these people? They are not Gondorian -- nor are they of Rohan."

Was this little whelp in charge?! She spoke with an air that demanded a direct, honest and quick answer. He looked down at West and then over at DJ questionningly before looking back at the woman, fixated by her beauty but not trusting it or her one bit.

[Pinkie]

Thrace was a bitch. She knew she was. It was her armour. If Lake didn't like it - he didn't have to like it. She didn't give a fuck. Katee Thrace was one of those people in the world who really didn't give a fuck what people thought of her. If Lake thought she was an irritating, self-centred cow then all the better. Maybe he'd leave her alone.

Lake said:

"Fuck's sake Barbie stop admiring the fucking ornaments and come and untie me!"

The way he called her Barbie was really starting to get on her nerves. Thrace grit her teeth and turned to glower at the back of Lake's head. She stalked forward and turned around so that her back was to him and reached up with questing fingers to find the rope about his wrists. She pushed his fingers out of the way as she did so - head bowed, hazel eyes stirred to darkness with irritation.

"If you call me that one more time, Lake, I swear I am gonna punch you so fucking hard.." she grumbled irritably, sliding her fingers up under the rope and using her thumb to pull the knot apart... or at least tried to. "Stop fucking moving!" she hissed at him, half turning her head to look at him sideways, her blonde hair swinging out around her. She bit her bottom lip and shut her eyes, concentrating on the knot as best she could. Finally it started to give way and she breathed a victorious, quiet laugh.

[Bogwoppit]

"If you call me that one more time, Lake, I swear I am gonna punch you so fucking hard.."

Lake grinned to himself as she fiddled with the knots, then hissed as she, deliberately he was sure, dug her nails into the base of his thumb.

"Stop fucking moving!"

"I'm not fucking moving," he snarled, eyebrows drawn together as at last she managed to free him.

Why did she always bring out the worst in him? Not that you could tell the difference - all of him was pretty bad - but she always made him want to punch something, preferably her. Really, he supposed he should be grateful - she was about the only person who could make him feel anything at all. He turned and regarded her solemnly, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he fought the urge to grin evilly.

"And forgive me if I'm wrong, Barbie," he said smoothly, gravelly voice low as he leaned towards her. "But for you to punch me... wouldn't I have to untie you too?"

He smiled at her pleasantly, and moved past her, deliberately brushing her shoulder with his arm as he went. Rubbing one wrist with the other hand he walked to the door and gently tried the handle. Nothing, surprise surprise. He let out the breath he was holding and turned back to see if there was anything he could use as a weapon when someone eventually came in. Of course he was going to untie Thrace... of course he was... he was just going to let her stew a bit first.

[Pinkie]

^{((ooc: what a bastard ;D ))}

Lake said:

"And forgive me if I'm wrong, Barbie. But for you to punch me... wouldn't I have to untie you too?"

Thrace was chewing her bottom lip idly as she pulled the last of the rope off Lake's wrists. She tossed her head to shoo a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes and began to turn, only to see Lake looming toward her. She cocked an eyebrow at him and looked at his lips as he spoke those cruel words. She didn't react immediately but inside she was seething. Fucking burning with anger.

When he walked off and didn't untie her, Thrace lowered her head and gave a bitter, amused laugh. Narrowing her hazel eyes, she looked up at Lake as he tried the door handle and made an effort to look meek and apologetic. Poking her tongue against her teeth, the blonde walked up to Lake and gave him a hopeful smile, shrugging one shoulder to display her still bound state.

"Eh Sir?" she asked and swallowed the bile rising in her throat to say - "Please?"

[Bogwoppit]

Boromir straightened as his father spoke, and reluctantly moved across the room towards his brother. He knew very well what Denethor was doing. The old fool just couldn't bear to see his youngest son happy, not even for a second. Even his apparent pleasure at the marriage between Faramir and Eowyn had been only to cement relationships between Gondor and Rohan, not through any genuine happiness that Faramir had found love. And now that the ice queen had shown every sign that she wasn't coming back it seemed Denethor meant to ruin any second chance Faramir might have.

The spite of the steward shadowed Boromir as he approached the two on the dance floor, even as he eyed the young woman speculatively. She did have a look of Eowyn about her, and he could see what his brother saw in her, but in all honesty, despite his hopes to the contrary, Boromir did not envisage the young man feeling any interest in the fairer sex for a long time to come. Eowyn, with all her outwardly delicate appearance, had shown her true colours more than once in Boromir's presence. The cutting criticisms and barely concealed insults she had thrown at Faramir were enough to emasculate any man, and especially one so sensitive as his brother. Boromir had seen in his eyes earlier that his confidence was utterly shattered. Faramir might pretend to be impervious to the insults Denethor threw at him, but to be insulted by his own wife had cut him deeply, Boromir knew.



To her surprise Miriel actually began to enjoy the dance. Faramir was skilled on the dance floor as he was on the battle field, and soon Miriel was whirling around, blonde hair flying, almost forgetting herself as she moved in his strong arms. He held her so gently, almost reverently, and yet so firmly, making her feel so safe, despite her reservations, and as they moved she felt herself relax. For a moment she would let herself live, just for now, with no memories, no sadness overshadowing her. She owed this kind man that much at least.

She did not notice Faramir's eye catch that of his father, having determinedly put the old man's cold stare out of her mind, and so when Faramir missed a step she glanced up at him sharply, surprised. She had been so intent on concentrating on the music that she found herself staring at his broad chest, and now the look in his blue eyes had her heart leaping to her throat. He was looking at her as though he desired her! Even as she thought it she found her own gaze drawn to his beautifully shaped mouth, and her own lips parted slightly of their own accord. He was slowing his steps, and soon they were not dancing at all, but merely swaying to the music. With indefinable clarity Miriel found they had drawn closer, not sure if she had moved towards him or he towards her. Her gaze flickered upwards to his, and back down to his lips once more, knowing she should draw away but quite unable to do so. She could feel his hand on the small of her back, his other clasping hers close to their shoulders now. She knew in that moment that he was going to kiss her, and found that she didn't mind.

"Brother, I'm sorry..."

The voice came from close behind, and Miriel pulled back quickly, spinning round to see Boromir speaking to his brother while looking at her apologetically.




Boromir smiled down at the young woman in his brother's arms, his rugged features showing remorse at interrupting. He glanced back to Faramir as he continued.

"We have some business to attend," he said gruffly. "Father has requested that you accompany me to question some people found outside the city."

He raised an eyebrow at Faramir, in an attempt to convey his annoyance at the old man's deliberate intrusion. Both men knew very well that it didn't take both of them to interview a few strangers, but Boromir knew better than to go against their father's wishes, in public at least.

[Pinkie]

Faramir was entranced. He could feel the longing in the pit of his stomach, he could feel the desire to comfort and protect this woman like he had sworn to comfort and protect Eowyn. As if she had needed his comfort or protection. She was the last woman in Middle Earth that would need his comfort and protection. Perhaps that was where he had gone wrong with her?
The Ranger's brow furrowed when he realised Miriel was not pulling away. He had dipped his head low enough to feel her warm breath against his chin when she looked up at him silently. Her big, gentle eyes looked up into his without fear or rejection.

Resolved, Faramir parted his lips to kiss her. Just intending it to be a gentle, chaste kiss... but ..

Boromir said:

"Brother, I'm sorry... We have some business to attend, Father has requested that you accompany me to question some people found outside the city."

The younger brother froze where he was and released a weary sigh. He lifted his chin and jutted his chin out to one side, looking above Miriel's head. All the resolve he had felt seemed squashed now. The thoughts of kissing the young healer seemed perverse in her mourning and it also seemed close to bigamy.

Swallowing hard, Faramir's hand on Miriel's back slid up to her shoulders as he turned to look at his brother. He nodded his head, blue eyes troubled as he looked past Boromir towards their father. The old man was glowering but a light of victory was in his eyes which slid a sharp, shard of ice into Faramir's heart. He wet his lips and looked down at Miriel apologetically.

"I'm sorry. I have my duty." he told her quietly, his voice hoarse with emotion. He lifted her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles before turning to Boromir straight-backed, shoulders pulled all the way back and his chin raised defiantly. He wanted to turn around and look at her but was not sure he could have managed to meet her eyes right now as he walked away from her. It was no question that he would tend to his duty before tending to a guest at a festival, but still, he felt bad for having brought her there only to leave her.

With a hard, tight expression on his face, he looked up at Boromir, glancing back to see Haldir following them. He leaned in towards Boromir when they were out of the room.

"That wasn't what it looked like." he informed him quietly, knowing he need not explain anything to Boromir but not wanting the older brother to get the wrong idea anyways.

[Bogwoppit]

"Who are these people? They are not Gondorian -- nor are they of Rohan."

Now this was something West could cope with. If all they had to throw at them was a devastatingly beautiful woman, then West was pretty sure he could talk his way round to getting her to allow them free rein of the city. He stepped forward, ignoring the small snort of derision coming from Eledhwen, who stood behind him with barely concealed irritation at being hemmed in.

She fidgeted constantly, dark brown gaze darting everywhere as she tried to see a way to slip by the guards. This was not what she had envisaged when she had thought to come to Gondor to seek her fortune. DJ reached out a soothing hand and placed it on her arm, and she flinched, throwing him a glare.

West approached the young woman who stood before them, pulling up sharply as a guard crossed his drawn sword down in front of him. He held up his hands in surrender, and gave the blonde one of his heart-breaking smiles.

"Hi," he said easily. "My name is Joe, and these are my friends, DJ, Kawalsky and uhm... Eledhwen."

He gestured at each in turn, pausing at the Rohirrim girl, as though it was pretty obvious they weren't actually friends. Nevertheless he carried on, turning back to Elendur to fix her with his winning green-eyed gaze. He knew damn well he was gorgeous, and wasn't averse to using it to his advantage, although he wouldn't dream of actually taking advantage. He was too much of a gentleman for that.

"We're peaceful travelers," he went on, "from, uh... the North."

He was guessing wildly here, and could only hope that no boogie men lived up North here, knowing only that from what Eledhwen had said about the Stargate that even if he told the truth they probably wouldn't believe him.

"We don't mean any harm," he carried on, smiling sweetly at Elendur so that a beguiling dimple appeared in one cheek, making him appear innocent and cute, but dangerously sexy, at the same time. "We sure could use a drink though, and maybe some food? And I know DJ here would love to have a closer look at some of your beautiful buildings."

DJ was all the while gazing in open admiration at West during his monologue, and now opened his mouth in awe at the major's easy way with words. Why the heck couldn't he charm women like that? It was so not fair. At the mention of his name he snapped his lips together and blinked, nodding furiously as he gazed at the vision before him. The architecture wasn't the only beautiful thing he would love to get his hands on.

By his side he felt Eledhwen tense, and glancing at her he saw her roll her eyes skywards. She had had plenty of experience with smooth talkers like West, and it didn't impress her one little bit. The men Eomer commanded were like this, trying to charm her, complimenting her and competing over her. Either that or they would tease her relentlessly, and neither approach interested her. She thought all men were idiots, especially those men who fell for the graces of a beautiful woman.

(Ooc and yes btw that's a good idea )