Disclaimer: Tolkien = genius. Simbelmynë = not so much.
Summary: There is never enough time.
Time has ever been their greatest need, and their greatest torment. There is never enough; what little they have together measures only moments—rare kisses stolen in the shadows, a midnight of bliss, the bittersweet hour before parting.
Yet year upon year they remain united in thought at least. Théodred lies beneath the stars, alone even amongst his riders, remembering grey eyes soft with a light none other has ever seen. And Boromir, on a lonely road far away, watches the same stars and thinks of a swift smile and strong hands warm enough to keep the darkness at bay.