Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from The Lord of the Rings. The late JRR Tolkien, New Line Cinema, and a bunch of other people with a LOT more money than I have do, and I'm just borrowing them to have a little fun and I'll put them back when I'm finished. I'm making no money from this, it's for entertainment purposes only, so please don't sue me. Tanathel is my creation, as are a few of the other original characters in this series. Please consult me before you use them in your own fics; I'll probably say yes, I just like to know where my babies are.

Archive permission: If you want it, take it. Just tell me where you're putting it so I can stop by and visit. Thanks.

Author's note: This is third in an AU series; you should read "Revolution and Retribution" and "Restoration and Revelation" before you read this. It isn't necessary; but you'll understand this one better if you do.

Dedications: To Evendim, who has given me such great pleasure with her own AU series and graciously given me permission to play in hers any time I wish. She has the same permission from me. Without her, I would never have gotten started in this particular fandom; she gave me the courage I needed to post that first story, and for that I am forever grateful. To Ithil-valon, who has provided tireless beta-services and been the best friend anyone could ever ask for… I love you for it, hon, don't ever change. And finally, to my beloved AJ, without whom I couldn't have gotten through some seriously horrid times in my life, or how I would go on without. I love you.

Chapter One

(The Houses of Healing, Minas Tirith)

Tanathel waited, her mind whirling, for Calas to be free. She would trust this to no other healer, not after her disastrous sojourn with them before. She had nearly lost her leg as a result and Calas was the only one of them she could still trust. That Boromir had given her his personal recommendation of the physician was also a powerful argument for trust. So, she held her silence, pacing distractedly as she waited in the corridor for him.

How had she let things get so serious? She could no longer perform her duties effectively; this wretched illness was affecting even her sleep. She knew she had lost weight, and she was unable to eat more than a few bites at a time. Wine and ale unsettled her so badly that she had steered clear, which had occasioned a comment from Boromir and that hadn't exactly been handled well, either. Her temper was on edge, so much so that she mistrusted her ability to be an impartial judge when the need arose.

Calas waved her into the Infirmary with a smile. "What brings the Captain of the King's Guard to me today?" he asked in a kindly voice. "I know how much you prefer to avoid my company." His eyes twinkled with suppressed mirth.

Tanathel gave him a wan smile in return. "I do indeed, but not from personal dislike, as well you know," she replied evenly. "I had thought to visit Lord Faramir after I had seen you to discuss this… illness hardly seems fitting. I do not sleep, I cannot eat… and my temper… the less said about it, the better." She shook her head, her dark hair gleaming in the light from the open windows.

Calas gave her a quick once-over and nodded. Her eyes sported dark circles and she had indeed lost weight; it was puzzling to him. "How long have you been having these symptoms, Captain?" he asked seriously as he began a closer examination. "If you would just lay back for me…"

Tanathel did so, noticing that the ceiling seemed to have taken on a life of its own. Closing her eyes for a moment steadied the room, and she opened them with a sigh. She felt his fingers poking and prodding along her body and forced herself to relax; Calas was the First Healer, he would never take liberties.

"Well, it could certainly be much worse for you," Calas said as he offered his hand to help her sit up. "Tell me, is it worse in the mornings? Do the symptoms ease over the course of the day?"

"Definitely. By evening I feel almost normal. Except for the lack of appetite. The sight of food…" Her voice trailed off with a suggestive shudder.

Calas sighed as he washed his hands thoroughly and came to stand before her once more. "I'm pleased to tell you, Tanathel, that while the condition is most upsetting to you now, that it will be transitory. It shouldn't last more than a few weeks, and then everything will be fine. I'll have Corvin deliver a dietary regimen to you that should help, as well as suggestions on how to deal with the changes your body is going to feel and when to start your confinement. You'll need to slow down considerably, although I do believe you'll be able to keep up your duties for some time yet."

Tanathel's mind wobbled dangerously for a moment. Confinement? Slow down? Did he mean… no, it couldn't be. "Calas, what on earth are you talking about?" she demanded harshly, trying to avoid the inevitable. They had only been back from the southern border for a few weeks, it couldn't possibly… No. Absolutely not.

Calas eyed her carefully. Certainly her reaction had been somewhat unexpected. "Am I to take it then that this is not only totally unexpected, it is a condition you wished to avoid? Please, Tanathel, let me help you. This should be an occasion for rejoicing, not despair. A child is a blessing, not a curse." It mattered not to him that she was unwed; everyone in the White City knew the connection between her and the Captain-General, and most of them blessed the match, whenever they got around to making it official. Tanathel had been a law unto herself since he had first seen her; she had made a mark for herself in a man's world, and as such, had earned the right to break a few rules along the way.

"You saw me on my return, sir, you know what happened to me there," Tanathel said softly as she turned a carefully blank expression toward him. "Make no mention of this to anyone, please. Have Corvin bring me the instructions, but tell no one of this. I am counting on your discretion as a healer, Calas. Boromir must not know."

"Of course. If I had realized…" Calas was beside himself. If not Boromir's child, there was only one other's it could be, and he knew it would be unpalatable to her in the extreme. The Haradrim had treated her most vilely during her brief tenure as their prisoner, and she would not welcome a permanent reminder of their hospitality. He took refuge in his profession for a moment. "As you wish. But you must eat, Captain, for the child's sake. Bland foods would be best at the moment, since they will cause you the least upset. You should also avoid wines, ales, and the like, since they are acid and will cause upset. I will send some tea with Corvin as well that should prove soothing to you." He turned away to allow her to take her leave.

Tanathel murmured her gratitude and withdrew, headed for the Council Chamber. There was no longer time for a visit to her Steward; her King had called a council session for this morning and she had taken too much time here. She would have time enough to think over her predicament afterward.

(Outside the Council Chambers, Minas Tirith)

Boromir, Captain-General of Gondor's Armies, was pressing his luck and he knew it. When the King called a council, it was expected that everyone be on time. Matters of office aside, of course. And it most certainly was not a matter of his office that he was seeing to at the moment.

Corvin had reported that Tanathel had not been to her office as yet this morning, and since he knew her to be meticulous in her discharge of her duty, he was waiting for her outside the Council Chamber. He certainly hadn't been able to fault Corvin for confiding in him; the page had an almost uncanny fascination with Tanathel and nearly worshipped her. He would do anything she asked… except keep a secret from Boromir. Once the boy had realized Tanathel was truly ill, it was only to be expected he would take the news to Boromir.

He saw her approaching and pulled himself away from the wall hurriedly. "Tanathel!" he greeted her lightly as he would normally, although his keen eyes quickly took in signs of her distress. She was thin almost to the point of gauntness, and obviously she had felt better. Lines of strain were visible around her eyes and he took all of this in instantly. "You're late. It's not like you."

"I needed to see Calas for a moment, that's all," she replied easily as she took his hand in greeting. "It's nothing. Shall we?"

Boromir nodded, determined to get to the bottom of this as soon as humanly possible. They entered the Council Chamber together, all business. He showed her no favoritism once inside; she was allowed to seat herself, as befit her rank, not her gender. She had earned that right, and he wouldn't belittle it.

He nodded his apologies to Aragorn and took his own seat, knowing there would be some discussion of their behavior when the Council adjourned. It was the first time the two of them had ever appeared late for a Council, and in each other's company to boot. It looked wrong.

Aragorn brought them to order quickly. "Boromir, in Faramir's absence, to you falls the Stewardship. Are you prepared to give your report?"

Boromir rose and nodded brusquely. He was no stranger to double duty; but it had been some years and a period he didn't want to think about since he'd had to fulfill what was now his brother's office. Fortunately his training had held true. "The Haradrim are moving again. I've sent scouts all along the border, and the reports are the same. Massive troop movements, but no clear intent. I'm uncertain what to make of it, to be truthful; I had expected some form of reprisal after the rout in the South." He paced a bit. "They move no closer to the border, yet they reinforce their positions heavily. Alajahado was high in their command; that much was obvious. That he had been assassinated by his own second is, I'm told, not an unusual occurrence when his loyalties had become suspect by treating with us." He gave a glance to Tanathel.

She leaned forward, steepling her hands before her. "It is a Haradrim custom to advance in the military by assassination. Manzhanesh killed him for showing us mercy, for releasing us, and for returning our honor to us. His gift was personal… and yet Manzhanesh would have seen it as a betrayal of their traditions." Her face was hard with remembered pain. "Manzhanesh considered it his duty to assassinate Alajahado for softening… and for betraying his own honor in such a fashion."

Boromir nodded in agreement. "We know this much about them. The question becomes, why are they hesitating in launching a counter-offensive?"

Aragorn spoke again. "It most likely indicates they are in a state of unrest after the assassinations. I have encountered Manzhanesh before in my travels, long ago; at least, I believe it to be the same man. Ambitious, hard, and from one of the most respected families in Far Harad. His honor was more important to him than anything, family, position, wealth and power… they meant nothing beside his honor. To hear this from you fits with what I know of the man; and yet, not quite. Perhaps it is his son. In any case, Boromir, was his death truly unavoidable?"

Boromir shook his head slowly. "Perhaps it might have been. It was a matter of personal honor to me that he died, my lord. I would rather not rehash the details in open council, if you please." His eyes cut to Tanathel for only a second, but it was enough. The Council erupted into muted mutters and hushed whispers as they debated the issue.

Aragorn kept his gaze fixed on Boromir, as though trying to discern his reasoning. He allowed the discussion to continue, patently waiting for some response from Boromir, but none was forthcoming. Boromir merely returned that level gaze, his own green eyes revealing nothing, until Aragorn judged enough time had passed. "Enough," he said simply, and the room quieted. "Boromir, this discussion is far from over. Remain after Council. Gentlemen, this accomplishes nothing. We must discover why they have made no overt move toward us, why they are hesitating in launching a reprisal."

Tanathel cleared her throat before anyone else could speak. "Discretion is useless when the truth could prevent a war, Boromir," she said slowly, her voice firm. "Manzhanesh assaulted me. Boromir took vengeance for it, as was his right. That is why Manzhanesh is dead, Sire, and no other reason. That, and the fact that he was doing his best to kill Boromir at the time." She looked up from the table, her eyes flat. "I would have done it myself had I been there."

Aragorn stiffened slightly. "Tanathel, you will also remain. Gentlemen, I will require your discretion in this matter. Suggestions?"

Daerlin rose and Aragorn stifled a groan. The man was more than competent, intelligent, and had a sharp mind for civic matters; and yet his acceptance of Tanathel had been tainted from the start with distrust. At least he was honest enough to admit to his bias. "We should send a delegation to the Haradrim. Offer them a chance to begin treaty negotiations. Anticipate their demands and attempt to meet them."

Several of the other councilors murmured agreement. "Very well, your suggestions are noted. Daerlin, you had another issue you wished to address?" Aragorn tried to keep things moving, though he dearly wished to discover what was at the bottom of all this.

Daerlin spoke again, his voice firm. "Indeed. There has been a systematic raiding of the outlying farms along the northern border, where our lands march with Rohan. They appear to be Orc raids… and yet no Orcs have been spotted in months, not since Saruman was destroyed. It is puzzling to me how this could happen with the Rohirrim constantly on guard as well. The border is well secured with both our forces and theirs. It is simply an impossibility that the Orcs could have come and gone unseen by someone. And yet, apparently they have."

Aragorn gave the matter some thought. "We will have to send messengers to Edoras to see if the Rohirrim are encountering the same difficulty. Thank you, gentlemen, that will be all for today. Boromir, Tanathel, walk with me." He rose and left the room, leading them to the gardens. "Arwen loved the gardens best of all," he said softly. "I would like to understand what has happened here, Boromir. Your behavior at the border was rather… unorthodox, to say the least. Allowing yourself to be captured in the first place was incomprehensible… but this… you have never put aside the good of Gondor for your own personal satisfaction. What were you thinking, if you were thinking at all?"

Boromir appeared discomfited. "Perhaps it is as you say, and I was not thinking clearly," he said slowly. "I have oft wondered, of late, if my father's madness was passed to me… or if the wizard, when he brought me back, somehow affected my mind. Some of my decisions have been… shall we say… rash, ill-advised, and admittedly lacking in intelligence."

Aragorn nodded while Tanathel merely murmured something that sounded suspiciously close to an agreement. "And do you believe, now, that you are mad? That you cannot perform the duties of your office competently? Boromir, I must be certain of you before I may adequately deal with this new threat, both of the Haradrim and the Orcs. If you are uncertain of yourself, tell me now."

Boromir paused, his golden hair fanned by the slight breeze, his eyes focused on some point in the distance. Slowly, he shook his head. "I am not uncertain of myself, no. But perhaps the men will feel differently." He shrugged. "I have overcome many obstacles before… this is simply one more. I say again… I would follow you into the very fires of Mordor did you ask it of me. You need have no fear of future lapses on my part."

"Very well. Tanathel, I will begin by reaffirming my trust in you." Aragorn caught her eye and held it, willing her to understand why he must speak as he was about to. "You have never failed me, never failed to do your duty as promised, never failed to uphold that duty as your first concern. I must ask you, can you prove it was Manzhanesh who assaulted you? I believe you… but many will not."

"Because I am Haradrim." Tanathel's voice held no recriminations. "Understandable. No, I cannot prove it, not at present. And every witness to that reprehensible action is now dead." She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully, avoiding Boromir's eye completely, uncertain of how to proceed. "Boromir saw Alajahado give me to Manzhanesh, saw him take me from the pavilion… but most will not believe him, either, because of our… association." She knew it would be hurtful to him, but she had to give her king the truth. "However, if it is questioned, there will soon be evidence enough of what happened." She closed her eyes against the questions she knew were about to be asked.

Boromir whipped his head around to regard her anew as the answers for her illness and strain became clear. "Manzhanesh?" he queried softly, though there was rage in his eyes. "I should have killed him on general principles when we first met," he growled.

"Boromir." Aragorn's voice was soft. "It cannot be undone. Tanathel, I trust you will care for yourself properly?" He paused for a moment. "There is also the matter of your courtship," he began firmly, including them both in his level gaze, the grey/blue of his eyes startlingly bright in the morning sun. "This situation must be addressed, and the most obvious solution is to wed the two of you as soon as possible. The child must have a father; and appearances must be upheld. The haste of this will cause talk; but to delay will cause more, and perhaps lose you both the respect of the people."

Boromir nodded, and after a moment's hesitation, so did Tanathel. "Duty will always dictate our lives," Boromir said softly as he took her hand. "I would expect no less from you than I do of myself. If this is not to your liking, you must tell me now." He wanted her, had wanted her for weeks, had courted her with singleminded determination. He admired her, her dedication, her spirit, her fire… but he would have no part of her if she did not wish it. It must be her choice.

Tanathel shook her head. "Not exactly as we had planned, is it, Boromir?" she said with a wry smile. "But still according to plan, if a bit sooner than we liked. I would never have refused you. And you should know that." His hesitation was endearing to her. "We are at your disposal, my liege, as always." She inclined her head respectfully toward Aragorn.

The King nodded again. "Very well. Make your preparations, then, and we will see you wed within the month. Dismissed, both of you. Oh, and Tanathel… see to training Mauhar to take your place temporarily. I know he is your personal choice of successor; see that he knows the routine as well as you." He waved them away and watched as they took their leave, their heads together and plotting something already. He was almost afraid of what this wedding would turn into… with the two of them, it would hardly be a traditional, staid, relaxed affair. Sighing, he took his leave of the gardens and went to his office; there was still much to be ordered before he could in conscience return to his quiet contemplations.

TBC…