Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews and words of support-I found them very encouraging! A particular thank you to the reviewers who I couldn't contact through PM-your reviews were appreciated too, even if I couldn't say so personally.
Hope you also enjoy this chapter!
Chapter 2
The next day and night were uneventful. Morloth's patient never truly gained consciousness, though at times he would wake enough to take some water or the herb infusions she made to ease his pain and treat his fever. More of a concern was that at times he would thrash and cry out in his sleep, agitated by dreams of danger and pain. She did her best to soothe him on these occasions; concerned that such violent movements might re-open his wounds.
But all in all she was encouraged by his progress. His fever broke on the second day and the wounds bled little so she was certain he would awaken when his body had recovered from the worst of the trauma. As the hours went by with no turn for the worse, Morloth began to be cautiously optimistic that Lord Boromir would live to see Minas Tirith again.
Morloth had set up a cot next to his so that she would be close if he needed her in the night, and late on the second night she was awakened by his cries. As before, he was casting about and loudly calling the names of his halfling friends, terrified for their safety. It wrung her heart to hear his distress so she stroked his brow and spoke to him soothingly.
Then she realized with a stab of terror that not all of the cries were Lord Boromir's; she could hear voices and the stamp of booted feet from outside the cave. How many there were and whether they were men or orcs she could not tell, but she was certain they were not Captain Faramir's men; Rangers would move much more silently.
Boromir was still thrashing and crying out in his sleep. She leaned close, desperate to quiet him lest those passing outside hear him and seek out their hiding spot. "Lord Boromir," she whispered, "you must be silent. We are in great danger! Please, my lord, be calm!"
To her relief he quieted almost immediately. However, she was leaning on his uninjured right side and hearing a woman's voice must have sparked some memory. Before she could move away his right arm snaked around her waist, pulling her against him and holding her fast. She gently tugged on his arm in hopes he would release her but his unwounded right arm was still incredibly strong and quite immovable. She cursed under her breath—what an undignified position to find herself in! She was sure she could find a way to free herself from his grasp, but worried if she struggled too hard she might hurt him and cause him to cry out.
The group outside must have been large; she could still hear their noisy passage. The best course of action, she reasoned, was to simply wait until Boromir relaxed in his sleep and let her go. Resigned, Morloth rested her head against his shoulder and prayed he would remember none of this.
Morloth woke to the pleasant but unexpected feeling of a warm body pressed against hers and bare skin under her cheek. Then the events of the night before came back in a rush and she gasped in dismay—she had fallen asleep! Before trying to move she glanced up to Boromir's face, saw his eyes were closed, and breathed a sigh of relief. His arm was no longer tight around her so she gently disengaged herself and stood as quietly as possible.
She had just turned to leave when Boromir spoke, his voice rough from disuse. "I do not want you to think me ungrateful, my lady, since it has been a long time since I held a woman in my arms, but I would at least like to know your name." Morloth closed her eyes in resignation and turned back to her patient. He was indeed awake, green eyes open and fixed intently on her face. "For that matter," he continued, "the tale of where we are and how I came here would be most welcome."
"My…my lord," she stammered, "you were awake? You should have said so! Oh, what you must think of me!" she muttered, blood rushing to her face.
This elicited a rusty chuckle from her patient. "As I said, it has been a very long time, and given my condition likely a long time before it happens again." He smiled, "As for what I think of you, nothing ill, rest assured."
"You must be thirsty, my lord, after your long sleep." Uncomfortable at the prospect of dressing in front of him, Morloth simply threw a shawl over her shift and brought a jar of water to his bedside. After she helped him drink she pulled a chair next to his bed and sat down. Despite her embarrassment she knew it would do him good to have his questions answered. "What do you recall, my lord?" she asked.
He closed his eyes in remembered pain. "The battle, then Aragorn and the others finding me. After that I think we took to the boats again. Your face, bending over me, then nothing until I woke here."
She smiled, "Very good, my lord. This is a Ranger way station near the Anduin."
His face cleared, "Ah, that is why it looks familiar."
"Your friends took you downriver by boat in hopes of finding help for you, and found me and my son. We were traveling south along the Anduin by horse."
"They should not have done so, the hobbits needed them more than I did!" Boromir exclaimed, "I will never forgive myself if my weakness costs them their lives!"
"Calm yourself, my lord, you will do yourself further injury! Aragorn wished to save both you and the halflings; I cannot blame him for that! I assure you that your companions were equally concerned for them, that is why I am here with you. I offered to stay and tend you so they could follow the orcs that captured your friends, and even as we speak my son rides south to tell your brother you are here."
He breathed a sigh of relief and caught her hand in his, "Thank you, my lady. I owe you a great debt."
"Oh, and before I forget," Morloth added, "Aragorn also said that as he had promised, he would come to Minas Tirith as soon as he is able."
Lord Boromir brightened, a broad smile on his face, "Did he?" He chuckled, "Wait until I tell Faramir that the k…" He stopped abruptly, "That is most welcome news, my lady."
"Then I am glad to have given it to you, my lord," she replied. Even in sleep Lord Boromir was a handsome man, but now that she had seen him awake for the first time she was struck how much his eyes and smile enlivened and took years of care from his face. And if his behavior toward her was any indication, she could see why he had a reputation for charm as well as military prowess.
Morloth suddenly felt acutely aware of the fact that his torso was bare except for the bandages—for purely practical reasons of course—but she found herself noting how heavily muscled he was and that the hair on his chest was the same deep gold color as on his head and beard. Surprised and a little unnerved at her reaction to him, she could only conclude that the unusual intimacy of their situation was affecting her.
Feeling that she should get back on the right footing with her patient, she shifted uncomfortably in her chair and tried not to blush as she spoke to him again. "My Lord Boromir, I feel I owe you some explanation for the fact that when you awoke I was…I was…" she stammered.
"Asleep, lying in my arms?" he said innocently, but the look on his face that made it clear he was trying not to laugh at her discomfort.
Curse the man; he was not going to make this easy! She forced herself to continue, "Late last night, you woke me with your cries. You must have been dreaming or remembering the battle with the orcs. That did not alarm me, it has happened before, but then I heard loud voices and the sound of men marching outside the cave. I…I was afraid that your cries might draw attention to us so I attempted to quiet you. When I leaned over you, you…seized me and pulled me against you." She looked away, unable to conceal her embarrassment.
Boromir chuckled. "It has been a long time but it is good to know that it hasn't been so long I have forgotten what to do!"
"You have not, my lord," Morloth said dryly before continuing. "I tried to get you to release me but you were holding me tightly and I did not want to hurt you by forcing the issue. So I decided to wait until you released me on your own and I…I fell asleep," she ended in a small voice.
"Well, my lady," Boromir began, "that is quite a tale. I would judge it to be so implausible that it must be true. Because appearances to the contrary," he said grandly, "I can tell you are not the kind of woman who would try to take advantage of a man so gravely injured."
"You are far too kind, my lord" Morloth replied sardonically. But when she met his eyes, she couldn't help laughing herself in response to his amusement.
After a moment, Morloth addressed him again. "Now, my lord, since it has been several days since you have eaten, you must be hungry. I have some meat broth I can warm for you." She rose and put the broth over the fire.
"I am famished," he replied, "but lady, meat broth? Roasted meat and ale would be more to my liking."
"I'm sure they would be, but not only are there none available but your body could certainly not tolerate anything of that sort. I can assure you they would be much less pleasant coming up than going down."
Boromir turned a little pale at the picture this conjured and said, "Yes, I can see that."
"I will have to feed you. It would be far too painful for you to sit up and it might reopen the wounds. Perhaps you can try to sit up in a few days when your wounds have had more time to heal."
"Oh, surely not days!" he protested, "I will go mad if I have to lie on my back for days and be spoon-fed like an infant! Please, my lady…" Boromir stopped suddenly and said in surprise. "You never told me your name!" He raised an eyebrow inquiringly, "I hope you are not trying to keep anything from me, giving me your name is simple courtesy. I would at least have that before I submit to this indignity."
She rolled her eyes, "My lord, there is nothing to conceal, I simply forgot to tell you. My name is Morloth."
His smile broadened. "Morloth… 'dark blossom', it suits you, my lady."
"Thank you, my lord. It was my father's choice—he had a rather poetic nature that he carefully concealed most of the time." She smiled ruefully, "Alas, the meaning of my name did not prevent the other children from teasing me since it is so similar to the name of the Great Enemy of legend."
He smiled in commiseration, "That must have been vexing. Was your father a scholar, to have given you such a name?"
"Oh, no, quite the contrary, he was a Guard of the Citadel. You may remember him…Menelgil?"
"Menelgil?" Boromir exclaimed in surprise, "Indeed I do, I remember him well. He was under my command for several years before he retired." He chuckled, "Menelgil was always held up as an example to the new recruits as a model of what a Guard should look like. He was so tall and regal in his bearing." Boromir caught her eyes, "You favor him, my lady."
She ducked her head in acknowledgement, unwilling to trust her voice.
"I was sorry when I heard that he had passed away," Boromir said softly.
"Thank you, my lord. My mother died suddenly from a fever and the grief was too much for him."
Boromir squeezed her hand in sympathy, "Then I am doubly sorry."
Morloth smiled to lighten the mood and asked, "My lord, you have the particulars of my name and parentage. Now will you take some broth?"
He smiled wryly, "I suppose it is only fair."
Morloth began feeding her patient spoonfuls of broth. "Now, Lord Boromir, I want to warn you that the next time you awaken I will need to change the dressings on your wounds. I have delayed doing so until now since although I will be as gentle as possible, there will be some pain. I was afraid if I tried to do so while you were unconscious you might thrash about and injure yourself more. I would also like to test your shoulder to insure that the arrow caused no permanent injury to the joint. Your friend Aragorn thought not but I want to be certain."
The broth was almost gone and Morloth could see that Boromir's eyes were getting heavy. She smiled and said, "I would do it now but you need to sleep."
Boromir yawned and grumbled, "How can I be sleepy again so soon? I have only been awake a short time!" He glared at her suspiciously, "Did you put something in the broth?"
Morloth chuckled, "No my lord, your body needs what it needs. Have no fear; you will come to require less sleep as you heal." She pulled the blanket over his chest, "Rest well."
She turned to leave but paused at the sound of Boromir's voice, fighting sleep, "My lady…the next time you wish to throw yourself into my arms, consider waiting until I have two good ones at my disposal, so I may do the job…properly." With that, he was asleep.
Morloth smiled to herself and shook her head, "I will keep that in mind, my lord."
-ooo-
Faramir pushed the maps he had been studying away across his desk in disgust, then leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. The enemy was encroaching on all sides, and he had no way to stop them—at least not without more men and he knew there were none to be had in numbers that would make a difference.
These sobering thoughts were interrupted by the sound of raised voices outside the hanging cloth that served as a door, then Damrod's voice, "Captain?"
"Come in!" he called, thinking gloomily that it was probably too much to hope that this would be good news.
Damrod entered the room and behind him the boy Cirlan, Morloth's son. He had never seen him without his mother so his first thought was that something was amiss with her. Damrod approached and Faramir said, "Morloth?" in a low tone that only his lieutenant could hear.
"That was the first thing I asked, Captain," Damrod replied, "the lad says she's fine."
Faramir sighed with relief and asked, "Then what is this about?"
"Don't know, Captain, he said he would tell you and none other."
Faramir's brows went up in surprise, "Indeed? Then let's hear what he has to say." He stood and faced the boy, "I understand you have something to tell me, Cirlan."
"Yes, Captain," Cirlan replied, and went down on one knee as he'd no doubt seen Rangers do when formally reporting to their captain.
Faramir exchanged a smile with Damrod and said gravely, "You may rise, Cirlan. What is this about?"
Cirlan stood and spoke eagerly, all formality gone in the excitement of the moment, "It's about your brother, sir, Lord Boromir!"
A jolt of fear went through Faramir; five days ago Boromir's horn had been heard, blowing wildly off to the north. Since then he had had troubling dreams about his brother, so concern for Boromir's safety was never far from his mind. "What is it? What do you know?" Faramir asked urgently.
"He's alive, sir! Badly injured, but alive! My mother is with him, in the northern-most way post on the west bank, the one that's half-way up the Mouths of the Entwash."
Faramir knew the spot; although the way post was kept supplied in case of emergencies, he could rarely spare the men to patrol in that area. "I would ask what your mother thought she was doing so far north but I suppose that's a discussion for another day."
Cirlan shrugged and said simply, "A baby, Captain."
Faramir, resolving to have yet another conversation with Morloth about putting herself in danger, simply sighed and said, "That explains why you and your mother were there, but how did my brother come to be there?"
"We were riding home along the river when two boats grounded ahead of us and three…men got out and hailed us. But only one was truly a Man, sir, if you follow me, the other two were an Elf and a Dwarf!"
"An Elf and a Dwarf?" Faramir asked incredulously, "Are you certain?"
"Yes, sir," Cirlan replied, "I've never seen the like before, but there was no mistaking that they weren't Men. The Man said he was a Ranger from the North, named Aragorn, the Dwarf was from the Lonely Mountain, and the Elf from the realm of Tran… Than…"
"Thranduil?" Faramir guessed. At Cirlan's nod, he turned to Damrod. "Mirkwood. I know Boromir went north in search of Imladris so I suppose he could have met them there. Did you say that the Ranger's name was Aragorn? And where was Boromir?"
"That's right. He was the leader and a healer too, or so my mother said. This Aragorn took the arrows out and bandaged your brother after the attack. Mother said he did a fine job, but they were lucky that Lord Boromir was still alive." Then realizing that he was in danger of losing the thread of his narrative, added, "Your brother was in one of the boats, you see, and they were looking for someone to take care of him so they could leave."
Faramir stiffened, "Why were they in such haste to leave a companion so gravely injured?
Cirlan nodded, "They explained that, Captain. When they were attacked by orcs near Amon Hen, Lord Boromir was alone with two more of their company, halflings, the man said."
"Halflings!" Damrod exclaimed, "This tale grows wilder by the minute!"
"They said your brother fought valiantly, but it was just him and the halflings against scores of orcs. When he fell, the orcs took the halflings as prisoners. Aragorn and the other two came in time to save Lord Boromir but the orcs got away. They didn't say why but they were certain the halflings would be kept alive and that's why they were in such a hurry."
Faramir shook his head, "Not an easy choice." He caught Cirlan's eyes, "Tell me, what do you know of my brother's wounds?"
"Arrows here, here and here," Cirlan answered, placing his hand on his left shoulder, chest and abdomen.
Faramir heard Damrod suck in his breath and they exchanged a look. The shoulder wound was survivable, though it could be crippling, but either of the other two could easily be fatal.
"Your mother had hope he would survive?" Faramir asked, his gut twisting with anxiety.
"She said that most would have died right away so it was a good sign that he'd made it so far. But he had some wound fever and that was a worry." Cirlan replied.
Faramir blew out a long breath. "I suppose that's the best we could hope for, given those wounds."
He put a hand on the boy's shoulder and said gravely, "Cirlan, you have done well. You are a credit to your mother—and to Gondor."
Cirlan blushed, ducked his head and muttered, "Thank you, Captain."
"Now, I'd guess that you'd like to return with the Rangers sent to fetch Boromir and your mother." At Cirlan's enthusiastic nod, he continued, "Good. Now go get something to eat and a find place to sleep. You'll be departing in the morning. You can leave your horse here and we will lend you a fresh mount."
When Cirlan was out of earshot, Damrod chuckled. "He's a good lad, Captain, and he'll make a fine Ranger some day, like his father."
"Yes, though for his mother's sake, I hope that day doesn't come too soon." Faramir turned to his lieutenant, "I want you to take twenty men and the best wagon you can find to bring Boromir and Morloth back. I'd give you more but that company of Haradrim and their Mumakil the scouts reported should be passing soon and I don't feel inclined to let them reach the Black Gates uncontested."
Damrod nodded, "It should be enough. There've been no reports of activity on the west bank since that group of Dunland scum came through a few days ago."
Faramir shook his head and exclaimed, "That brother of mine has the Valar's own luck! First he survives wounds that would have killed anyone else and then he gets passed from the hands of one skilled healer to another where by rights none should have been!"
Damrod snorted, "Lucky in more ways than one with Morloth tending him."
"Given his wounds, I doubt he'll even notice who is treating him," Faramir retorted.
"Captain, this is your brother we're talking about, isn't it?"
"Ah, yes, that's true." After a moment, Faramir added, "Well, if anyone can keep Boromir in line, I would trust Morloth to do it."
Damrod brightened, "There is that, sir."
After Damrod left, Faramir sat down again at his desk and was soon lost in thought. Boromir would have much to explain when he saw him again, not the least of which was this Ranger, Aragorn, who had delivered Boromir into their hands. 'Aragorn' was a kingly name, and not one to be given lightly. There had long been rumors that the line of Isildur still endured in the wilds of Arnor…could it be?
He shook his head; such speculation was useless. With a sigh, Faramir reached for the maps he had been studying earlier and set back to work.
