Rating: R is for Romance...
Disclaimer: Tolkien’s imaginarium… Kortirion’s just visiting.
Yours To Command
“Bring the jug with you.”
A request? Or an order... sometimes it was difficult to judge, Boromir’s natural sense of command extended into everything. Théodred picked up the wine and ambled after him. Dusk brought cool breezes that spun whispering stories from the leafy trees sheltering the inn’s terrace. Cushions littered a divan; Boromir sprawled there already, idly leafing through a book, the bread and cheese he’d carried outside on the table beside him. Placing the jug down, Théodred picked up a discarded lute from a bench; he tried the strings, singing softly to himself. Boromir looked up... and smiled.
Yours To Obey
“A book of verse, a jug of wine, a loaf of bread and though
Beside me singing in the wilderness...”
Théodred paused mid-chord, one eyebrow cocked, lips quirked.
Boromir blushed, his voice dropped to a mumble.
“What was that?” asked Theo.
“Sounded like poetry... and the rest?”
“Not important... just, something I heard once.”
“Then tell me...” Théodred’s long fingers plucked a slow melody, “...please?”
Boromir took a deep breath:
“...And though beside me singing in the wilderness,
And wilderness is paradise e’now... ...Something like that.”
He looked down at his hands.
Theo strummed softly, he nodded... “I agree...”