2. Impressions of the Golden Hall
Unglazed windows sat high under the eaves. In the roof a giant louver, with moveable slats, stood open exposing a rectangle of sky, releasing smoke and admitting light. Boromir studied the carvings on the interior wooden supports of the Meduseld. The bas-reliefs of magnificent horses and warriors had been gilded with gold or painted vivid colors. Woven cloth banners hung down from the rafters, swaying gently in the rising heat, depicting spectacular scenes of heroes, battles, feats of horsemanship, and more horses—everywhere horses. At the south end of the hall facing the main door stood a dais upon which rested the king's golden throne. Although the hall showed neither the age nor anything approaching the grandeur or legendary connection to the great days of Númenor of the vaulted roof and marble columns of the Merethrond in Minas Tirith, he felt power and nobility reflected in this hall.
"Well, what do you think?" Théodred asked, his lips close to Boromir's ear.
"I don't know exactly what I imagined, but it is somehow different, marvelous in fact. I am most happy to be here," Boromir answered.
"I surely hope you are," Théodred whispered, his voice hot and seductive on Boromir's neck.