Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Harry sighed as he watched the sunset from the stone bench he was sitting on.
The wariness of the war had not disappeared, which had prevented him from being able to deal with his memories. Sometimes he had come to wish he could obliviate himself.
It had been two years, two years since he had come to Arda.
He had defeated Voldemort and ended the war. After two hard years of training and constant fighting, it was all over and most of his friends were still alive.
The Hogwarts Army, as the DA had been renamed after Dumbledore's death, had lost several members. Among them were Colin Creevy and Lavender Brown.
The hardest hit, however, had been Ron and Hermione. And Harry knew that he would never forgive himself for not having prevented the terrible fate his friends suffered.
Luna and Neville, among others, had survived. And Draco. Not without scars, they all had some, be they visible or not; but they were alive and sane. Really, it was more than they’d dared to hope for.
The three of them, along with the Weasley twins, had tried to help Harry recover from the war, but were unable to. Try as he might, he just couldn't forget who he was.
The wizarding world saw him as their saviour, their hero. And that only meant more responsibilities.
The public had expectations of him: their hero would become an auror, still young he would marry a beautiful witch from a good family, he would continue his line with two identical sons and a daughter with his eyes and his mother's hair and he would be the next Dumbledore, the next leader of the Light.
The ministry, on the other hand, tried to take credit for the achievements of the young wizard, with no success. Ultimately, they tried to control him, make him another one of their pawns, promising him a position in the Auror Corps and even a promotion to department head.
Harry had not satisfied any of their expectations.
He had continued to command the Hogwarts Army, locking up every loose Death Eater or corrupt member of the ministry, until something changed everything.
It happened during a fight with Death Eaters. One of them had cast the Killing Curse at Neville and Harry knew the boy wouldn't have time to dodge it.
Without a moment's hesitation, he stepped in front of him and the bright green light hit him squarely in the chest.
It should have killed him, it should have drained his magic and stopped his heart. It should have granted him peace.
Unfortunately, things were never that easy for Harry. Once again, he lived up to his title as the Boy-Who-Lived and Master of Death.
He had risen from the ground and, as if nothing strange or unusual had happened, which in his case could be considered the case, he had continued to fight.
It was hours later, sitting in an armchair by the fire in Grimmauld Place, that the implications of what had happened washed over him and he broke completely.
That night he cried himself to unconsciousness and neither Kreacher nor Shadow were able to comfort him.
The next day, Harry tried to get rid of the Relics; he tried to destroy them, but somehow, they always found a way to get back to him.
From that day on, Harry was never the same again. He devoted himself purely to hunting the Death Eaters and put on practice the most daring stunts all on his own.
His friends and colleagues noticed the change. Harry was a great actor, but if there was anyone who knew him enough to notice his masks, it was the HA members.
As he dedicated more and more of himself towards changing the wizarding world, they took care of him, supporting him when he needed them without his having to ask, helping him achieve his goals and trying to help him heal.
But Harry knew that nothing they did could heal him; he was broken beyond any chance of recovery.
And he saw what that was doing to his friends, to the closest thing to a family he had. He could see, feel, their pain. Pain for him, for not being able to do more to help him.
And that broke his heart even more. They should not suffer because of him, not now that the war was finally over and they could have a normal life.
So it was no surprise when, after dying three more times and coming back to life as if it were nothing, he accepted an offer from the Valar.
They had introduced themselves as the guardians of Arda, also known as Middle Earth. They had seen his suffering and wanted to give him a gift to ease his pain.
When he was offered to go to this new world and start a new life, he didn't care that it was a world prone to war and death; Harry wanted to get away from his own. He had to. For his friends.
And for himself too. He had to give himself a chance to heal, as much as he believed it to be a lost cause.
In spite of everything, what led him to accept Mandos' offer immediately was the mention of a race of beings as eternal as himself: the elves.
It wasn't until several weeks later that he really thought about Nienna's promise: in Arda he would find his soulmate.
It was hard for Harry to believe after the life he had led up till then, but holding onto a little hope couldn't hurt, right?
So, that was how they had found themselves in a fascinating new world, with new and different creatures.
Harry had discovered that the Valar had not sent him without resources. Upon awakening, Shadow was at his side, his moke-skin purse ―the one Hagrid had given him before the war― hung from his neck, as always holding all his belongings, although the Valar had included the contents of his Gringotts vaults.
His first contact with the ‘natives’ had not been exactly pleasant, he thought with a chuckle. Certainly not for the orcs who had attacked him.
Then he had chosen a random direction and walked for a few days, until he reached a village.
He had never been so glad that solving the riddle of the sphinx in his fourth year had strengthened his ability to speak Parseltongue to the point of giving him the ability to speak all existing languages. Including those from other worlds, apparently.
He had spent a few days in the small town and gathered what information he could, among other things that he was in the kingdom of Gondor, before heading towards the capital, Minas Tirith.
It hadn't been difficult to fit in, considering that Harry had always been highly adaptable.
He had got himself a job as a servant in the castle, even if he didn't need it at all, and devotedly kept himself inconspicuous whilst listening and learning.
The palace, and especially its library, had been a great source of information, just as he had hoped.
On the other hand, it had been a great relief to discover that this world was much less judgmental than in his own. Relationships between men were a rare occurrence, but not frowned upon as they had been in the muggle world ―Harry had long since realized that his sexuality was geared more towards his own gender. And wizards, whom he had discovered were called Istaris here, were few and highly revered.
Knowing that he no longer had any restrictions or expectations to meet had taken a great burden off his shoulders.
He decided that he would stay in Minas Tirith for a while, familiarizing himself with his new world and the people who lived in it, learning about the different races. And, when he was ready, he would visit the elven cities.
It had been two years since he had made that decision, two years since he had arrived in Arda. Harry knew that he would soon be leaving Gondor and with it Minas Tirith. There was nothing to hold him there.
The young wizard shook his head to push the memories out of his mind and closed his eyes, enjoying the caress of the setting sun on his face.
ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ
Boromir was a man satisfied with how his life was. He was the son of the seneschal of the great kingdom of Gondor, a position that one day he would inherit.
The prince of Gondor had become one of the most admired captains and was the guardian of the White Tower.
He was a respected warrior and regarded as a man of honour.
At no time did it cross his mind that there might be something missing in his life.
Until he met him.
Boromir walked through his private gardens thinking about the latest news he had received. There had been an increase of activity in Mordor and the orcs now attacked more often.
It had only been a few weeks since he had fought alongside his brother and his men to win back Osgiliath from a new race of orcs.
These new improved monsters had dared to attack the old capital and some villages closer to Minas Tirith, and that had him worried.
When he decided to go out for a walk the sun had just begun to set, its rays bathing the gardens in shades of red and gold.
He walked to a small temple that he knew was hidden there and stopped at the vision that greeted him.
In front of him, sitting on a stone bench, was the most beautiful being he had ever seen, far more beautiful than any elf he had ever met.
For a moment he wondered if they might truly be elfish, but his round ears ruled that theory out.
He was a young man no more than twenty years old, with hair black as the darkest night that brushed his shoulders.
It contrasted sharply with his pale skin, which held a golden hue cast by the evening sun.
His eyes were closed, his long dark lashes caressing his cheeks, his features elegant and his face tilted up towards the sun.
Boromir ran his eyes over the parted pink lips and swallowed. Without realising it, he stepped forward and held his breath.
He must have made some noise because the young man jumped to his feet and turned toward him in a movement so fast he could barely follow it.
A pair of orbs greener and brighter than the most beautiful emeralds pinned him and he felt breathless.
For a second those eyes showed fear, of what, he wasn't sure, but Boromir immediately decided that he didn't like that reaction.
“Who are you?” asked the boy.
The captain was a bit surprised. There were few people in Gondor who did not know about him and, although it was true that not everyone recognized him at first sight, people who visited the palace usually did.
"I believe I should be the one to ask that, considering you are in my private gardens."
The boy's eyes widened and he hastily bowed his head in fear.
Boromir decided he didn't like that either, and not just because it prevented him from seeing those expressive green eyes. Such a beautiful being should not have to bow to him, much less be afraid of him.
"I'm sorry, Captain-General. I didn't intend to invade your space. I had just finished my chores in your gardens and thought to stop for a bit of rest. It won't happen again, I promise you.”
“What if I wanted it to happen again?” He asked, taking a couple of steps in his direction.
"Excuse me, Captain-General, I don't understand what you mean." Answered the young man whilst taking a step back.
Boromir saw complete honesty in his eyes and smiled slightly.
"It doesn't bother me that you're here, it just surprised me. I had never found anyone here.” He said before asking: “Do you work in the gardens?”
"Yes, Captain-General. I take care of your private gardens.”
"Sounds like a lot of work for one person."
"I'm fast, Captain-General." The young man replied with a strange glint in his eyes. Was that amusement?
“Why don't we begin anew by exchanging names? I am Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor. Captain-General of the Army, Prince of Gondor and High Guardian of the White Tower.”
That beauty stared at him, clearly unsure of how to react, and looked away before speaking.
“I'm Harry.”
“Harry? Just Harry?”
"Just Harry." The young man repeated with unexpected firmness before donning a perfect mask of submission again. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you with my presence, Captain-General."
"There's always some way to make it up to me." Boromir replied, approaching him slowly.
"Whatever you wish, Captain-General."
"Why don't you start by always looking me in the eye with those precious emerald orbs?" murmured Boromir, placing his hand under the delicate curve of Harry's pale neck and lifting his face until green clashed with gray.
"Yes, Captain-General." The beautiful young man murmured back, looking at him nervously.
"And I think we can put the formalities aside, at least in private." He said with a smile. "Call me Boromir and I'll call you Harry."
"That would be inappropriate." Harry replied.
“Why?”
"You are the Captain-General."
“Exactly. As Captain-General, can’t I ask the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen to call me by my name? ”He whispered.
"I… I'm not beautiful." He contradicted him softly, blushing.
Boromir stared at him in disbelief and was shocked when he saw in his eyes that he truly believed what he was saying.
“Of course you are.” He replied firmly. “Have you ever been outside Minas Tirith?”
"Not for long, B-Boromir." Harry replied.
“I have.” He answered, delighting in the sound of his name spoken by that sweet mouth. "I have seen a lot in my travels, in the battles I've fought. I have seen Men and Elves, Hobbits and Dwarves. But I could spend the rest of my life looking at you without ever missing any of that, because next to you even the beauty of the elves pales.”
Clearly, Harry did not know how to respond to that and, if his blush was an indication, he didn't take his word for it. Boromir decided at that moment that it would be his personal mission to make him see his own beauty.
Suddenly, Harry stared into his eyes.
"I beg you, be honest with me. What is it you desire from me? I know well what is expected from young people my age towards the seneschal's family, but I will not take my clothes off for a man just because he thinks he has the right to order me.” He declared bravely, his mask falling again for an instant. "You can throw me out of the palace, but I will not be treated like an object."
Boromir looked at him in shock. Who had said something like that to this beautiful young man?
“Is that what you expect when someone compliments your beauty? Who has done you such dishonour?”
"I have never suffered it myself, as I have said, I will not allow myself to be treated as an object and I'm usually good at remaining inconspicuous. But I… I know other servants who have suffered that fate.”
"I would never force you to do something like that." He whispered, getting angry at the mere thought of someone forcing this shy creature.
"So tell me, what do you want from me?" Harry asked quietly, his voice cracking.
"I want to win your heart, in the same way that you have become mine. Because from the moment your beautiful eyes met mine, my heart ceased to belong to me.”