Boromir sat tense in the chair facing Galadriel, dark clouds of disturbance shadowing his features.
"I need guidance," he spoke, "for I am cursed with obsession."
Galadriel nodded, her features sincere and focused.
"I have heard. The pull of the ring is strong within you."
Boromir breathed deeply, his eyes clouding as he became restless in his seat. "I must have it."
"It is not yours to take," noted Galadriel, her voice stern beneath its apparent calm.
"You do not understand!" cried Boromir, rising from his seat to pace the ground. "He flaunts it to me! Flirting it..."
"All feel the pull of the ring," replied Galadriel. "Though I have heard none use the term 'flirt' to describe its power before."
Boromir glanced over, distractedly, his own thoughts far dominating his mind.
"Do you wish to hear what I want from it?" he asked. "Do you wish to hear how it beckons to me in my dreams?" He strode to his seat once more and fell back against the solid wood of its structure.
"Please tell me, then, Boromir," prompted Galadriel. "Tell me of its pull."
"I dream at night of it," he began, his eyes falling closed as the memory flooded through. "I want to push my finger inside, feel it tight around me..."
Galadriel raised an eyebrow. "An unusual choice of language."
Boromir's eyes snapped open, his gaze curious. "Would you think?" he asked lightly. "I had not noticed."
"Speak more of the ring," Galadriel prompted, interest rising in her mind. "Speak more of the dreams that haunt you."
"I see it before me, glowing a beckoning light," Boromir began, again allowing his eyes to slip focus. "It sings an unearthly song, pulling me with force towards its perfect shape. I try to resist yet my body is filled with desire and I cannot. I reach towards it, hovering as it is within my reach. I extend one finger; the energy dances through me with the first contact. It is the same each night. I trace the edges, delicately around its surface, feeling it demand me entry. I no longer try to resist, and so in turn I slide my finger in what I feel could not possibly accommodate my size... Yet with each thrust further through I feel the ring widen, loosening around my touch until it envelops me entirely...until it joins as one with my body..."
Galadriel breathed deeply before choosing her reply.
"I sense...an underlying issue," she suggested, speaking carefully.
Boromir met her eyes, confusion apparent.
"Of what kind?" he asked. "Is it not obvious that the ring pulls me? That it is the ring which I am unnaturally focused towards?"
"It would seem..." began Galadriel, delicately treading the path of the conversation, "that the ring you speak of might indeed be a metaphor for a deeper want."
Boromir leaned forward from his seat, eyes clear and unsure. "What is this metaphor you speak of?"
"Have you considered your feelings for Frodo himself?" she asked, casual in her questioning.
"Frodo?"
"Frodo," she repeated with a nod of her head.
"Jealousy, do you refer to? That I wish to be keeper of the ring?"
Galadriel sighed for it was a long and difficult path she could see before her.
"No, dear Boromir, not jealousy. I speak instead of feelings of a more physical nature."
"Violence, then?" Boromir queried, his mind unsure of direction. "I admit having felt the pull of aggravation against the hobbit, though I do swear the ring was both motivation and puppeteer of my motions.
"No, dear Boromir, not violence," Galadriel responded. "I speak of feelings that direct you to wish more than friendship from the young hobbit. Of a closer relationship with Frodo," she reiterated, one delicate eyebrow risen in effect.
It was barely a second before the words were made clear to Boromir, and he let his eyes widen greatly in response.
"You believe I have feelings for Frodo?" he cried in shock. "You believe the dreams of the ring are not in fact the One Ring, but instead..." he let his voice trail into silence as surprise halted his words.
"Indeed," confirmed Galadriel, a slight smile upon her lips.
Boromir rose from his chair, pacing heavily the ground beneath his feet as his mind churned in thought. It was minutes before he once again resumed his seat and met again the stare of Galadriel.
"You are wise indeed, Galadriel," he acknowledged with a tilt of his head, "for you could see clearly in my own head what I could not imagine for even one moment."
"The question then, dear Boromir," replied Galadriel, "is what you wish to do with this knowledge."
"That question indeed has already entered my mind, I do see it watching me, willing me to supply an answer," Boromir replied, letting himself fall back against the support of the chair. "I should approach Frodo, I believe, though I would think him unsure of my advance. I suspect he loves another."
"Sam," finished Galadriel, as though reading the word from his mind. "I would not be quick to read the hearts of others before understanding your own."
Boromir nodded in acquiescence. "What then do you suggest?"
"I suggest a substitute until your heart decides your path," answered Galadriel. "Tell me, dear Boromir, would not two rings be greater than one?"
Boromir stared blankly towards her, traces of obvious interest revealed beneath. "I do not understand."
Galadriel smiled as she leaned towards him in her seat. "I speak of two relations, both within your Fellowship, whom I believe would accommodate your need for knowledge and exploration."
Boromir's eyes widened. "Are you speaking of Merry and Pippin?" he exclaimed in surprise.
"Indeed I am," spoke Galadriel.
Boromir let the thought this revelation had provoked play itself before his mind. It was not long before a decision was made.
"I will do as your wisdom guides," he stated, sure in his decision. "And I thank you for your council."
Galadriel managed barely a nod of her head before only the back of the man could be seen, hurrying fast from the meeting place in search of his goal.
She smiled to herself once more. The minds of the young were easy to guide.
The End.