Chapter 5
Chapter 5
The summer solstice celebrations turned out to be different from any other Harry had been to before.
The white city filled with color and sound; music and stands from travelling merchants livened up the streets and squares of the city in a way that it could only be compared to the market days.
Surprisingly, the summer solstice seemed to be one of those few festivals that both the rich and the poor people of the city attended.
It wasn’t difficult to find stands with the finest and most delicate cloths right next to stands selling spices and exotic foods.
Despite being accompanied by guards, Boromir was a familiar face and beloved by the city and people made way for him as if he were the king himself.
Fortunately, there were too many new things to see for Harry to notice how people’s stares followed them as they whispered between themselves about the beauty and bearing of the youth that had apparently managed to capture and maintain the attention of their beloved prince.
A brave vendor dared to approach them with a few shows of the jewels he sold and convinced them to stop at their stand. It didn’t take long for them to go on, but now the other vendors were bolder and the two men stopped before some interesting stands.
“The clothes are of the best quality you could find, my lords.” Assured them a vendor. “Silk from the Mirkwood elves, leather from Rohan, velvet from Rivendell… The metallic finishing touches are made by the hands of dwarfs from the Grey Hills. Do you see something to your liking, my lords? Any clothes you wish for, I’m sure I’ll have it.”
Harry run his eyes over the beautiful embroidery in the presented clothes. They were all beautiful… and expensive. Something that few people in Gondor could afford.
“What about cloaks?” asked Boromir.
“Of the best quality you will find, my lord, and for every occasion. Cloaks for travelling, celebrations, for everyday use…
“Show me the best ones you have.”
The vendor hurried to obey without hesitation, starting to unfold the best cloaks over the rest of the clothes. Harry watched with curiosity as Boromir run his eyes over them, stopping at a couple of them.
One in particular seemed to catch his attention, to the vendor’s happiness.
“Do you like that one, my lord? Without a doubt, your taste is excellent.”
“What is it made of?” asked the man.
“Mirkwood silk, my lord, the most resistant.”
“And the fur?
“Wolves from the North, from Eriador. Touch it, my lord. It’s soft as velvet. The clasp is dwarfish steel, engraved by their best blacksmiths. The matter is of the best quality, I assure you, my lord.”
Boromir nodded slightly, his eyes pensive as he caressed the cloth to check the vendor’s words.
“What do you think, Harry?”
The youth looked at him in confusion before turning to the cloak. It was a beautiful cloak, no doubts about it. In a green color that reminded him of the leaves in the Forbidden Forest, with the edges covered in a pretty white fur that looked warm and with a clasp in the shape of a bird in flight.
“It’s beautiful, no doubt about it, but…” the wizard hesitated a moment before continuing. “it does not look like something I’d have expected you to wear.
The merchant alternated looking between them, nervous and afraid of losing such a fortuitous sale, but the gondorian let out a low chuckle and shook his head.
“Try it on.”
“What?”
“Try it on.” Insisted the Man.
At the vendor’s and the gondorian’s insistence, Harry tried on the cloak. It was warm without being too much so and very soft. The clasp was not as heavy as he’d thought and it rested just below his clavicles. The only real concern was that it was a bit long for him, obviously made with someone taller in mind.
“It’s a little long for you, my lord, but that is easily fixed. I could have it ready in a couple hours.”
Boromir only needed to see him wearing the cloak a second to make a choice.
“We’ll take it.” Harry turned abruptly to look at him as the vendor gathered the cloak.
“I haven’t yet told you the price, my lord.”
“It’s not necessary. We’ll come by to get it before returning to the palace.” Decided Boromir. “I’ll pay you then.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
“Boromir…”
“I won’t hear a word of complain about the money.” Said the man with a firm stare.
“But…”
“Is it perhaps not to your liking?” asked the man with a frown.
“Of course I like it, it’s very beautiful, but Boromir, just the clasp must be worth more than…”
“You know I can afford it, Harry.” Seeing the youth was about to protest, the Man decided he needed a better argument. “Please, Harry, you know nothing pleases me more than being able to provide for you.”
Harry looked at him in doubt, but the gondorian’s stare was firm and honest.
The youth nodded slightly and a bright smile lightened up Boromir’s face before he turned to the vendor, who observed them with avid interest.
“We’ll return later for the cloak, if you can have it ready.”
“Of course, my lord. It will be ready when you return.”
After their unexpected shopping, the couple continued on their way, walking through the colorful marketplace and stopping every once in a while before the most promising stands.
They spent some time in the squares, enjoying the spectacles. There were elaborate puppet shows for the children, acrobats and contortionists, buffoons, poets, bards and false wizards.
One of these last ones noticed him watching and made a pretty flower appear on his next trick, extending it towards him with an exaggerated gallantry.
Boromir watched him accept it with an indulgent smile, his arm possessively around his waist. A lot of people stopped to admire the youth’s beauty, as much to the warrior’s pride as frustration.
The youth’s smile attracted the attention of a nearby bard, who didn’t hesitate to change the tune of his songs and improvising something hurriedly.
“His eyes green as soft buds
His lips pink as beautiful flowers
His skin pale as purity
And the hair as dark as the most beautiful night”
Boromir noticed the blush on his angel’s cheeks at the verses in his honour and chuckled, receiving a reproachful look.
“A gentleman as few there were
His virtues keeps and beauty admires
As with envy the others observed
His hands touch the most beautiful night.”
His eyes softened at allusion to himself as Harry raised his eyes towards him with a small smile.
They both continued on their way, but it didn’t take them long as they met Faramir.
“Here you are.” Greeted them Boromir’s brother. “I thought it would be so; such verses could only speak about one person.”
Harry blushed again, but smiled at the young academic, inviting him to join them. Faramir accepted gladly.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” He muttered taking out something from the inner pocket of his cloak. “I found this in a stand for you.”
“Oh, Faramir, you shouldn’t have bothered.” Exclaimed the wizard accepting the small package of brown cloth and unfolding it.
It was a beautiful hair clasp. Made of silver and bone, with delicate horse motifs, it presented a deceptively fragile aspect without being too ostentatious.
“I thought it would be useful for you to gather your hair while you work in the garden.” Commented the seneschal’s son with a slight smile.
“It’s wonderful, Faramir. Thank you very much.” Answered Harry raising on his tiptoes to place a chaste kiss on his cheek.
As soon as the youth returned to his side, Boromir placed his arm back around his waist without looking away from Faramir’s eyes.
The morning went by fast and without incidents. When they started to feel hungry, Boromir and Faramir showed him the best food stands and Harry delighted in trying out what for him were exotic delicacies.
It was upon stopping in one of those that a small commotion in a nearby stand caught their attention.
The vendor, a big burly looking man, held onto the arm of a boy around twelve years old. The little one resisted, scared, and held tightly onto a piece of bread.
Harry watched with wide eyes and, unconsciously, his hand clenched on the bigger one that held it. Boromir and Faramir followed his gaze and frowned at the scene.
Without changing his expression, Boromir squeezed softly Harry’s hand and directed them towards the stand.
“What is going on here?” he asked looking at the vendor.
“This small cretin was trying to steal from me.” Growled the man shaking the child.
“Stop, you’re hurting him!” protested Harry taking a step forward.
“He was trying to steal rom me!” defended himself the man.
“It’s just a hungry child.” Intervened Faramir calmly.
“I will pay for whatever he’s taken.” Added Harry.
The child looked at him with very wide eyes and the youth smiled a bit at him, but his smile disappeared with the vendor’s next words.
“Someone must teach this brat that his actions have consequences.”
When the vendor raised a hand to slap the child, Harry didn’t think before getting in the middle of them and closing his eyes, waiting for the hit.
It never arrived.
Upon opening his eyes, he found a familiar hand holding strongly the other man’s wrist a short few centimeters from his face.
Boromir’s eyes shone with fury, the lines of his forehead tense and his teeth clenched tightly together. If he had been able to look away from him, Harry would’ve seen that Faramir was in a very similar state.
“Raise your hand again, against him or the boy, and I’ll have you whipped in the square.” Threatened the man in a low voice.
The vendor, pale as milk, took a step back as soon as he was free of the grip of the seneschal’s son. It was clear it wasn’t an empty threat.
“I- I am sorry, my lords. I… I wouldn’t have… I…”
It’s not to me that you must apologize.” Answered Boromir coldly.
The vendor swallowed and turned to Harry, bowing to him.
“My most sincere apologies, my lord.” He muttered. “Allow me to compensate you in some way.”
“Your apologies are more than enough compensation.” Replied Harry in a low but clear voice.
“And that you let the child go, of course.” Added Faramir. “The guards need not be bothered by such a small matter.”
The vendor didn’t seem very happy, but he was too scared and relieved at not getting bigger repercussions to protest.
The incident had attracted the attention of many others in the marketplace, the whispers starting to spread rumors about what happened.
Harry flushed red when he noticed, but he showed no other reaction when Boromir and Faramir returned the bread the child had stolen ―a hard and moldy piece of bread that would probably end up feeding some pigs― before leading them away from the stand.
“What’s your name, boy?” asked Boromir after stopping to get fresh bread and some sweets for the child.
“G-Galeth, my lord.” Stuttered out the kid staring at the bread they’d given him as if he knew not what to do with it.
“Galeth. It’s a good name.” said Faramir.
“Come on, eat.” Encouraged Harry with a small smile. “You must be hungry.”
The child looked at the bread with hunger and a desperate desire, but he made no move to eat it. In its place, he lowered his head and muttered something none of the three men understood.
“I cannot pay you.” He repeated in a firmer voice.
“It’s a gift, Galeth. We don’t want anything in exchange.” Calmed him down Harry with his soft voice.
The child looked at them warily for a few seconds before his hunger won out against his wariness and he started to devour the food.
“Where are your parents?” asked Faramir.
“I have no parent, sir.” He answered without stopping eating.
“Who takes care of you then?”
“No one, sir.”
Harry looked at the poor child with compassion, remembering the childhood that was best left in the past.
“Boromir, can we do nothing?” he asked in a low voice.
The warrior looked away from his keen observation of the little one to look at the beautiful youth. His stare softened before he looked around and he called a couple of guards patrolling nearby over.
“Take the child to the Citadel.” He ordered firmly. “Have the servants feed him and prepare him a room. If anybody asks, say the seneschal’s son has ordered it so.”
“Yes, Captain-General.” Muttered one of them before placing a hand on the child’s shoulder, who looked at them with wide eyes, to guide him amongst the hustle of people.
“Father won’t approve.” Sighed Faramir.
“Let me worry about that.”
“Thank you.” Whispered Harry looking away from the now far away guards.
Boromir took one of his hands between his and brought it to his lips to place a short kiss on the back of it.
“They’re not necessary.”
Harry gave him a small smile and rose on his tiptoes to place a kiss on the edge of his lips, too conscious that they were in a public place.
Faramir, on his side, looked away from the tender scene and cleared his throat to get their attention. Boromir looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes.
“The show is about to start in the central square.”
The couple nodded and they went on their way. Near the square, Harry noticed that Boromir’s limp had grown slightly more noticeable.
“I’m fine, Harry. It’s nothing serious.”
“Boromir, you have barely recovered from your wound. You should not force yourself too much.” Protested the youth.
But Boromir insisted it was nothing. His only concession was the promise of returning to the Citadel if the pain worsened.
In the square, they met Tolan, who Harry didn’t hesitate to invite to join them. A couple of times, they saw Arborn amongst the people, in the company of a tall blonde woman.
“It’s his wife, Maina.”
“Arborn is married?” asked the wizard with surprise.
“For the last three years.” Confirmed Tolan in a low voice.
Their talk was interrupted when Faramir announced he was going to fetch some drinks and Boromir offered to accompany him, leaving Harry’s safety in the able hands of his subordinate.
“Tolan, could I ask you a favor?”
“As you wish, Harry.”
“There is a stand in the olive’s street that sells daggers and short swords. It’s possible you may know of it, his works are of great quality.”
Tolan nodded.
“A particular dagger caught Boromir’s attention.” He explained taking out a small bag of coins from the inner pocket of his cloak and offering it to the warrior. It was made of dwarfish steel, with a simple handle, but with small black amber beads incrusted in it. I thought it would be a nice surprise for Boromir.”
The warrior smiled slightly, something not very common, and nodded.
“I will take care of it discreetly.”
Harry nodded thankfully, unable to express it in words upon the brothers’ return.
Boromir offered him a cup of sweet fruity wine instead of the beer the other men favored and the youth accepted gratefully. The beer was far too strong compared to the version his people had had in offer.
The afternoon went by fast. The artist’s shows were impressive, be they acrobats, musicians or theater actors. Comedies, dramas or tragedies, the stories were captivating and reached the public.
It was getting dark when Harry saw Boromir trying to hide an uncomfortable wince as he shifted positions.
“Boromir.” He whispered placing a hand over the arms that surrounded his waist. “Let’s go back.”
“I’m fine, my love. There’s still time till the fireworks.”
“We can watch them from the balconies.”
“Harry…”
“Please, Boromir. You’re still recuperating and you’ve walked all day.” Pleaded the youth. “Please.”
Boromir closed his eyes an instant before bending to kiss his forehead.
“Alright.” He said pulling away and offering his arm out.
The gesture caught their companion’s attention.
“You’re leaving already?” asked Faramir with some disappointment visible in his frown. “Harry hasn’t seen the fireworks yet.”
“I’m afraid I’m a bit tired after this day.” Hurried to say Harry.
“We’ll see the fireworks from the Citadel’s balconies.”
“Oh, of course.” Sighed Faramir. “I can go with you…”
“It won’t be necessary, brother. Enjoy the rest of the party.” Replied Boromir in a firm voice. “We’ll return to the Citadel as soon as we pick up Harry’s new cloak, there’s no need for you to miss the celebrations.”
The young wizard sighed. He’d completely forgotten the cloak.
“I could do that, Captain-General.” Offered Arborn. “I still have to go to the market.”
Boromir accepted gladly. Soon after, he and Harry had said their goodbyes and were on their way back to the Citadel.
ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ
Upon reaching Boromir’s rooms, which had some of the best views of the White City, the son of the seneschal ordered the servants to leave them alone.
In the balcony, with the starlight bathing his face, he couldn’t resist the temptation the beautiful youth posed.
Tenderly, he gathered him up in his arms, placed a hand on the back of his neck and brought him flush against his body to kiss him passionately.
Harry answered just as intensely, his soft and pink lips moving without hesitation against the warrior’s.
Their tongues disclosed an old and primitive dance that put their bodies on fire and stole their breath.
Harry raised his arms to surround with them Boromir’s neck, as the Man’s hands traced a path of fire up his back till they readhed the soft and dark hair.
When the need for breath made itself unavoidable, they separated slightly, out of breath.
“The fireworks just started.” Commented Boromir in a rough voice, watching the colorful lights bath the beautiful face of the young man.
“Yes.” Whispered the wizard without making any move to pull away, his cheeks reddened. “Kiss me again.”
Boromir leaned towards him, their lips barely touching and his warm breath caressing the wizard’s cheek.
“As you wish.” He whispered.
ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ
From the stairs to the Citadel, Faramir looked up. It was not the fireworks he observed.
After Harry and Boromir left, he’d stayed a little longer at the festival, but it was clear it was not the same and he’d said goodbye to Tolan to return on his own to the Citadel.
Now he wished he’d stayed, if only to be able to ignore the pain that clenched his chest and left him out of breath.