Work Text:
Late April, 3019 TA
Minas Tirith
Boromir grumbled to himself as he made his way down to the sixth circle. First, he had slept through breakfast, then he couldn’t find Anael. He had to question multiple people—because Faramir was still in Ithilien with Éowyn, Éomer, and Lothíriel, and of course Aragorn was nowhere to be found, nor anyone else who might have known where she would be—and he finally got an answer out of one of the maids that Anael had gone to the Houses of Healing. Fearing that she was unwell or there was a complication with their child, he sprinted towards the doors to the Citadel before the maid could get a word in.
After interrogating a healer’s apprentice and learning that Anael was visiting the periannath—Sam and Frodo—he took a few minutes to calm his racing heart. And then promptly apologized to the apprentice for being so brusque with her. He had been experiencing similar moods quite often as of late, now that Anael was halfway through her pregnancy, and he had been short with people when he hadn’t meant to be. He also became anxious whenever Anael was not in his line of sight, though more often than not, she was doing something completely safe and harmless, such as sitting outside by the White Tree or spending time with the Hobbits.
He arrived at the room Sam and Frodo were sharing in the Houses of Healing and took another deep breath before knocking. Upon hearing the muffled answer, he opened the door and stepped inside. Needless to say, he was not expecting the room to be so crowded.
Frodo was under the blankets with pillows propped behind his back so that he could sit upright, while Pippin was lying at the foot of his bed, his hands cradling his chin and his feet up in the air. Sam sat cross-legged on his bed and Merry sat near him. Anael was seated in a chair opposite Sam, her hands resting on her rounded belly, while Gimli sat in another chair near the window with Legolas standing behind him.
“Well, o’ course there ought to be Rosie—I mean roses.” Sam cleared his throat before continuing. “You can’t have a garden without roses, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“Ah, have ye got Rosie Cotton on the brain, Sam?” Merry jeered.
“You’d better ask her to marry you when we make it back to the Shire or I’ll do it myself,” said Pippin.
“Oh, enough out o’ the two of ye,” Sam grumbled. “If you’re not goin’ to say anythin’ helpful, then go find someone else to bother.”
Boromir leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. No one seemed to have taken notice of him.
“What are you all discussing?” he asked. Anael tilted her head back and looked up at him. Before she could answer him, Pippin spoke up.
“It sure is cramped in here.” Boromir frowned at him but said nothing.
“Oh, you’re right, Pippin—and don’t expect to hear me say that again anytime soon. Should we go out to the garden so we’ve got room to breathe?” Sam suggested, and then he glanced over at Frodo. “Unless you’re not feelin’ well enough to go outside, Mister Frodo.”
“I could use a bit of fresh air,” said Frodo with a weak smile.
He looked much improved compared to when he was brought here, and like Sam appeared to have gained a little weight. But he still had a long way to go. Hopefully, he would be well enough to attend Aragorn’s coronation in a little more than a week.
“Good,” said Gimli. “That means I can smoke.”
Boromir moved towards Anael so that Gimli and Legolas could leave the room, followed by Merry and Pippin. Frodo put on a shawl that had been provided by the healers and held Sam’s arm as they walked out together.
“Here,” Boromir said, holding his hand out for Anael to take. He knew that she probably didn’t need the help, since Elves were much more agile than other races, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Anael’s other hand remained in place on her abdomen. When she was standing, he didn’t let go of her hand, which she didn’t mind. “What were you discussing? Something about roses?”
“I asked Sam if he could tell me more about what flowers we could grow in Osgiliath. I am afraid that I do not know enough about flowers.”
“I see. His insight will indeed be valuable. And I have a feeling that you know more about them than I do.”
They entered the garden and found the others gathered by the fountain in the center. Anael eased herself down on the ledge next to Sam and Frodo, while Boromir remained standing. Gimli was puffing at his pipe and looking out over the city with Legolas beside him.
“What kinds of flowers would you like in our home?” Anael asked. Boromir smiled.
“I am happy with whatever you choose.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Merry crooned.
“You thought so? Perhaps you should take notes,” Boromir teased. Merry snorted and puffed out his chest.
“I don’t need notes, thank you very much. My personality more than makes up for it.” Pippin snickered but didn’t say anything.
“As I was sayin’ earlier, Miss Anael, roses would be a nice fit for a new garden, not because of their beauty, but also because they’re perennials.”
“‘Perennials?’”
“It means they grow back every Spring. You won’t have to plant new rose bushes every year, because the ones you have—if cared for properly—will bloom again and again.”
“Are there other flowers who will grow back?” Anael asked.
“There are lots of ‘em. Tulips are another nice perennial. But just like roses, you’d have to decide what colors you want. Not only that, but you ‘ave to choose them carefully so you don’t offend your guests.”
Boromir’s brow furrowed. How can flowers be offensive? Sam seemed to have read his mind—or figured out his thoughts by looking at his face.
“Aye, Mister Boromir, sir. All flowers have meanings, and different colors mean different things, too.”
“Oh, I remember! You said in Rivendell that pink and red flowers symbolize love,” Anael said.
“That’s right, Miss Anael. Red roses are a romantic gesture to say that you love someone, and pink roses symbolize admiration and new love. For tulips, red ones mean love and pink ones mean affection. Where the two flowers differ greatly are when they’re yellow. Yellow tulips mean happiness and are a good gift for someone who’s feelin’ down. But yellow roses can mean betrayal or unfaithfulness.”
“I see. It seems so complicated.”
“Carnations are another flower where yellow has a somewhat negative meanin’, such as rejection or regret. The red ones mean romantic love, but the pink ones symbolize a mother’s love.” Anael’s face saddened. Sam realized his mistake too late, but he did his best to remedy it. “White carnations might be nice for your new home, because they mean new beginnings. Same with white tulips, which are also nice for weddings.”
“What about white roses?” Anael asked, the trace of sadness no longer present in her voice or countenance.
“Oh, now that’s a nice one. White roses can mean new beginnings or be used in weddings, or they can symbolize remembrance.”
Boromir stiffened. He closed his eyes, picturing a memorial for the fallen that did not yet exist, made of pearly white stone, with a fountain or pond and bushes of white roses lining the foot paths. It was beautiful.
“Sam, would you write down a list of flowers that would be good to grow in a new garden? It would certainly be beneficial to us,” Boromir asked. There was no way he was going to remember all of this, and he wanted to make sure that Anael got everything she wanted.
“Sure, Mister Boromir, sir. I can write down some flower names and their meanin’s.”
“And trees,” Legolas chimed in. “You shall need trees, also. Oaks and elms and beeches. Flowering trees and willows. Fruit trees…”
Boromir chuckled to himself as he listened to Legolas continue to prattle on. Something told him that Sam was going to need a lot of paper.