Having securely placed the torch into its holder, Bryane deposited the pile of scrolls on the stone table in the middle of the room. It was a small, dark room full of paper and Bryane struggled to suppress a sigh as she surveyed the room that it was her charge to order. Irritated by the long strands of dark hair that kept drifting in front of her eyes, she undid the fashionable chignon done by her mother's nimble, but weak, fingers. She dragged her own slim fingers through her long hair before putting it up into a fastidious and far less fashionable bun.

She set her thin lips into a determined line and approached the table onto which she had just deposited her latest pile of scrolls. Flicking through them, she noticed that they were an odd mix of valuable records of the past kings of Gondor and much more mundane articles. She sighed. If that irascible old archivist would only let her order the scrolls already in the room before foisting yet more on her, she would feel considerably more at ease. Her terror at losing one of these valuable documents would only be second to her grief if she should do so.

She pulled up a rickety but serviceable stool and immersed herself in extracting the most valuable documents for storage in the one area she had been able to clear for this purpose. A small thrill went up her spine when she discovered a few pages from the Kin-strife with Eldacar's own seal on it. She barely restrained herself from reading it. If she began the attempt to decipher any of the feast of documents before her, she would never have the strength to return to the more mundane world of ordering them.

Gathering up the scroll of Eldacar, she set it on her special shelf, amongst her other most precious scrolls. As she was making her way back to the table to finish going through the stack, she was startled by a clattering on the stairs. She turned and watched as a man emerged round the corner of the stairwell. His shoulder-length brown hair framed a face full of warmth.

She started forward to greet him, holding out her hand. "Faramir!"

"Bryane," he said, taking her hand and holding it briefly to his lips. Bryane couldn't quite conceal the blush but hoped that the uncertain shadows cast by the torch would do that work for her.

"How goes it, Bryane?"

"Well enough."

Faramir glanced around the room, a slight smile coming to his lips. "Is there any order here?"

"A very little," she told him. "Every time I get it in the least bit ordered, he foists another load of scrolls on me and I do not have the space for them."

"This does seem a very small room, for such a lot of history."

"It is." Bryane made her way back to the table and sat down on the stool. For a second, she almost over-balanced. As she managed a brief glance at Faramir, she noticed the small smile that he allowed himself before averting his gaze from her awkwardness.

"What did the Healers say?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing new. But they gave Mother something to keep her spirits up and the pain at bay. She even insisted on doing my hair this morning." Faramir looked back at her and lifted one of his eyebrows. "It did look very nice but it was impractical so I had to re-do it." He put down his eyebrow.

"I leave tomorrow."

"For how long?" She couldn't help wishing it wasn't too long. Mother seemed to go through every new batch of medicine faster than the last.

"A while."

Bryane knew she wouldn't be able to conceal her disappointment so she turned her attention to her hands lying in her lap. She knew how far he was above her. She didn't have any claims on him but she had become dependent on his kindness.

"Father wants me to go to Osgilliath. Boromir has returned home and I think Father would like to have him close for a while before sending him out again."

"I see. That won't give you very much time with your brother."

"No." Bryane knew he was disappointed even if she couldn't hear it in his voice. The brothers were so very different but from the way Faramir always spoke of his brother, she had been able to ascertain that they were close.

Bryane tried to think of something else to say.

"It may be awhile before I return. Even once Boromir returns to Osgilliath, I think Father will want me to take charge of the patrols in Ithilien for a time. I will speak to Boromir about you and your family. Ask him to keep an eye on you while he's here."

"Thank you." Though relieved, Bryane couldn't quite conceal the slight wavering in her voice.

"My brother is not so very frightening as the stories make out."

Bryane looked up at Faramir, whom she thought looked slightly amused. She managed a grateful smile and he came forward, pulling up a stool to take a seat beside her.

"You mustn't worry so, Bryane." She couldn't look away from his eyes, so blue and so full of, well, something. "I wouldn't let you be abandoned."

"I know," she said but she wasn't sure he meant it. Kind as he was, he was the Steward's son and she was just an archivist. If Mithrandir hadn't introduced them just over a year ago, he wouldn't even be aware of her existence.

Faramir stood and as he did so, he briefly laid his hand on her shoulder. The small gesture comforted her and she smiled.

"That's better. Now I must get back. My brother and I have much to speak of and little time in which to speak. Good-bye, Bryane, and keep well."

"Goodbye, Faramir, and thank you." He smiled at her. A small lump rose in her throat. "Come back."

He smiled again. "I will."

-0-0-

"A woman, little brother?" Boromir cocked an eyebrow at Faramir.

Faramir looked away, abashed. "She's just a friend. She helps Mithrandir when he comes to the city. He asked me to look into her family circumstances and I did and have tried to help where I can."

"Is she pretty?" Faramir could hear the amusement still lingering in his brother's voice.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean..."

Faramir stopped speaking, cut off by Boromir's laughter. "Oh little brother, and here I was pitying you for being under Father's thumb all these months."

"It's nothing like that."

"If you say so."

Faramir shook his head. His brother didn't want to believe him and sometimes Faramir wondered himself if Bryane were just a friend. Did he want her to be something more? He wasn't sure.

He looked back at Boromir and shrugged his shoulders. Boromir indulged himself in a final chuckle.

"Shall we speak of other things?" Boromir asked and Faramir nodded his assent. "How about the defences at Osgilliath?"

"We do need to speak of them," Faramir said.

"We do," replied Boromir, sobering.