Bryane shook out the last remnants of the bottle into her mother's cup. There was only one bottle left and she hadn't heard anything from Faramir's brother. She bit her lip. Before he left, Faramir had sent her a letter saying he had spoken to Boromir and telling her to approach him if she needed anything. She didn't know if she dared.

She closed the medicine case, locking it securely. Then she placed it back in the cupboard next to the hearth and took the cup to her mother. Her mother slept in the larger of the two bedrooms. It was the room with the nicer view facing back towards the Houses of Healing and the more attractive parts of the city.

The room Bryane shared with her sister looked out over the street and they could often hear the overflow of taproom fights spilling outside. Her brother slept on the couch in the living room. Bryane was grateful the apartment wasn't smaller but in some ways something a bit smaller in a better part of the city would have been preferable.

Her mother's sleep was uneasy and even as Bryane entered the room, she was moaning in her sleep. Her short hair was wet against the sides of her soft face. The Healers had cut her hair to ease the uncomfortable heat that had dogged her mother since the beginning of her illness.

Bryane did not even need to wake her mother up as a spasm of coughing woke her from her slumbers. Bryane rushed to her mother's bedside.

"Here, mother," she spoke softly, "I'm here, with your medicine."

Her mother's eyes opened and when she caught sight of Bryane, she managed a thin smile. Bryane lifted the cup to her mother's lips but her mother took the cup from her grasp and drank the contents of the cup herself. Not bothering to fetch a chair, Bryane nestled against the side of her mother's narrow bed. She felt her mother's hand stroking her head and she nestled even closer.

"You'll catch cold sitting on the floor."

"I'd rather not fetch a chair."

"Bryane." Her mother's voice had a faint, but not serious, tone of chastisement in it. "How is your work going?"

"Well enough," Bryane said. "I've finally got them ordered into periods so now I can start categorising."

"That sounds good."

"It is." Bryane nodded. "Mother?"

"Yes, Bryane?"

"Do you ever wish I'd done something else? Tended the sick? Or tried harder to find a husband?" Bryane's voice slipped into a croak and disappeared.

She felt her mother's weight move in the bed and then she felt the soft brush as her mother kissed her head. "No, Bryane."

"I'd be able to help you more."

"Bryane, the work you do is invaluable, no matter what that old fool at the archives says. And it's what you care about. I wouldn't have you be any less than all that you are."

Bryane leant her head against the bed's hard frame. Her mother stroked her hair for a while but eventually her hand became still. Her breathing had eased and she was asleep. Bryane lifted up her own hand and covered the one that still lay on Bryane's head. The moments passed and Bryane listened to her mother's breathing, held her mother's hand. She closed her eyes, her forehead puckering. She knew what she must do and she must do it soon.

-0-0-

Faramir's seal had gotten her through all the gates to enter the top-most level of the Citadel. Bryane still couldn't believe she'd had the courage to come this far. But she knew she couldn't go back. She didn't want to bring her mother her evening medicine and know that in just one day, there would be no more left. She had to do this.

She walked across the courtyard, her eyes down, making sure she didn't look directly at the guards around the dead white tree. Even though she'd worn her best dress, she was sure something would give her away as being unworthy to be here.

The great stone hall stood in front of her but she passed by it to enter at a side entrance. There were a few guards on duty but no-one who looked likely to offer to point her on her way. Reluctantly, she approached the guard that looked to be the youngest. "Do you know where I could find Lord Boromir?"

The guard looked at her and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. Before he could say anything, the guard next to him, an older man, put a hand on the boy's shoulder and said, "He'll be in his study. Just follow the hall and turn left at the end. Go past the courtyard and you'll see a guard there. His name is Wereth. Tell him you're here to see the Lord Boromir and he'll show you in."

Bryane gave the man a grateful look. "Thank you," she said and hurried away.

His directions were easy to follow and Bryane was caught between hurrying to complete her task and the urge to linger, taking in the immensity of the building. The history that had gone into these halls.

She passed an enclosed courtyard. There was a fountain at its centre presided over by a delicately carved statue who seemed to be dancing a jig. The courtyard was still, far away from the hustle and bustle of the city. To Bryane, it seemed idyllic.

"Excuse me, can I help you?"

Bryane jumped and looked around to meet the eyes of a guard. "Are you Wereth?"

"Yes."

"I'm looking for the Lord Boromir."

"Are you? Well then, you've come to the right place. Follow me."

Bryane followed him into through a door and into a long passage. He turned to the first door on his left and opened it. "Go in. He won't bite."

Bryane eyed the guard and then edged her way into the room. It was dark except for the light coming through the window. Bryane doubted any work could have been done in the half-light hovering over the desk.

There was a man in the room but his back was turned to her as he stared out the window. He was tall and looked heavier than Faramir. When he turned round, he did so quite quickly and for a second, Bryane's breath was caught in the back of her throat. He was like Faramir but also quite different. His hair was straighter, for one, but, more than that, his air was more commanding, his gaze more piercing.

"What?" he said.

For a second, Bryane stared, unable to speak. But then her hand strayed to the letter she had already used so many times this afternoon. She drew it out, held it out but he made no move towards her.

Bryane pinched her lips together and then slowly made her way towards the man, this Captain of Gondor of whom she had heard so much. When she was closer, she stretched out her hand with the letter again. "Faramir said, he said I could come to you if I needed help while he was away."

"You must be Bryane." Bryane nodded. Boromir put out his hand but instead of taking the letter he caught her wrist and pulled her into the light coming through the window. Bryane gasped. She had just managed to keep her feet.

"Yes?" she said. Her voice was quiet but she was close enough to him that he must be able to hear it.

"I see." He paused but she could think of no words to fill the silence. She brought her arm back, cradling her letter protectively. "Yes, Faramir did mention you to me. I suppose I should have looked in on you but my duties seldom take me to the archives."

Bryane glanced up at him. He was watching her, his eyes narrowed. Bryane gulped.

"My mother, she's ill. Faramir helped me get the Healers to see her and to give her medicine. But her medicine, it's almost finished. And, and she needs more. I think she's dying." Bryane blinked back tears, confused by their sudden appearance. She had never cried in front of Faramir, though she had once before Mithrandir. But only that once.

Bryane gulped again, this time using it to pull back the tears. Then she looked up and her eyes were momentarily caught in the grey ones staring into hers.

"Well, if Faramir could help you will the Healers, then I am sure I can do no less," he said.

"Thank you," she said.

"And while you are here, why don't you eat with me?"

"Oh, no. Thank you."

"Nonsense. You must eat with me. I would appreciate the company."

Bryane nodded, signalling her acquiescence.

"Excellent."

He walked across the room to the door. She saw him glance back at her. He lifted his hand to invite her to precede him out the room. She made her way gingerly across the floor and went out into the dark passage. Not knowing where to go, she waited for him. He came out the door and opened another to her right.

"Call for dinner, Wereth, dinner for two," he told the guard standing outside the door and then closed it again.

"This way," he said and led her to the other end of the hallway and out into another, larger courtyard. This courtyard had a long table in it. Boromir took a seat on one side and indicated that she take a seat on the other. This Bryane did.

She studied her host. There seemed to be some amusement lurking in his eyes but she couldn't divine its source. Perhaps it was her appearance. She'd worn her best and done her best imitation of her mother's chignon but still, it was probably a far-cry from the way the ladies of the city dressed when they shared dinner with one of the city's lords. And here she was, with the city's favourite son and heir.

"So, tell me Bryane, when did you and my brother meet?"

"About a year ago. Mithrandir introduced us on his last visit."

"Mithrandir? Yes, I suppose he does spend a lot of time in the archives. Did he find anything interesting?"

"No, I don't think so. But I've been cataloguing the older pieces and I think I may have found a few pieces that may interest him."

"Like what?"

"I've found extracts from some old diaries – Earnil's, Eldacar's. Just yesterday, I unearthed a scroll with Isildur's seal."

"Isildur?" Boromir looked at her, his head tilted slightly to one side. "I wonder what my father would think of the archives spending its energy on remnants of the old kings."

"Oh, the archives are not." Bryane, who had been momentarily swept away by her enthusiasm for her favourite subject, felt quite awkward. "It's just me. I think the head archivist just has me do it to keep me out of the way."

"But you enjoy it?"

"Yes. I mean it can be very boring, organising, recording, deciphering pages and pages only to discover that the matters they are discussing are really quite trivial. But every now and then, I find a scrap of history." Bryane looked up at him, trying to communicate her feelings to this inscrutable man. "A scrap that tells you about where all of this comes from, what it's about, what's important."

Boromir smiled at her but to Bryane it seemed a slightly indulgent smile, like one gives to a child.

"I'm boring you," she said, looking away. She felt a pinprick of tears and was angry at herself. With so much else happening in her life, how could his indifference, his indulgence affect her?

"No," he said. "You sound a bit like my brother is all."

"He has a great love of lore. Don't you?"

"I do see the importance of it and it is good to know about where I come from. I'm just not quite so fascinated by it as Faramir. There is so much still to be done in this world that I just don't have as much time for lore as he does."

"You do have a lot to do."

"Yes. Every day our forces are stretched further in their defence of the West. But let us not speak of that now." He glanced to his left and nodded. Bryane followed his nod and was surprised to see that some servants had entered the courtyard. She felt quite awkward as they laid the dinner out on the table. How easily she could be one of them. She may get more respect as an archivist but she certainly didn't get paid as much.

Bryane's mouth watered as the food's smell infused her nose. Without her mother's injunctions ringing in her ears, she would never have selected her food daintily enough. But when she put the first, fresh tomato into her mouth, she couldn't help closing her eyes as she savoured it. She thought she heard Boromir chuckle and opened her eyes to see him watching her, with interest.

Unaccountably annoyed, she said, "What?"

"Nothing," he said, lifting a piece of fruit to his mouth with his knife.

Bryane turned her attention back to her plate. The fruit looked delicious; the meat smelt heavenly. Boromir allowed her to consume the rest of her meal in silence, uninterrupted by comments or chuckles. But all through the meal, Bryane could feel that his eyes were on her. She thanked her mother for every lesson that she had drummed into her in their years spent on the higher levels, before her father's death.

When she finished, the almost-invisible servants cleared the meal away. As all that uneaten food was taken away, Bryane couldn't help but feel guilty. She should have found a way to slip some in her napkin to take home to her family. She looked up at Boromir; Faramir had often given her food for her family but Boromir said nothing.

"I suppose you'll be wanting to get back to your family. It's getting late."

"Yes."

"May I escort you back?"

She bit her lip. Somehow, she'd always managed to avoid allowing Faramir to escort her home. He'd managed to ferret out her whereabouts in the city but that had been all; he'd never actually seen the place.

"It's a long walk. I'll be fine," she said.

"If it's a long walk, then let me take you on horseback."

"No, please. Don't trouble yourself. You've already done too much."

"I insist."

Bryane didn't know what to say to dissuade him. She followed him mutely as he led the way back along the hall. As they left his apartments, he stopped on the step and held out his arm for her. She obediently laid her hand on it. He walked briskly and she struggled to keep up with him while still trying to keep her hand elegantly resting on his arm. She thought she'd ended up squeezing too tight when he gave her a slight, side-long glance.

They reached the main entrance and courtyard and he summoned his horse. It seemed only moments before it arrived. She stared at the great beast.

"Have you ridden a horse before?"

Bryane shook her head. Before she knew what was happening, his large, strong hands were around her waist and she found herself being lifted onto the beast. She held onto the pommel for dear life until she felt his arms circle her waist as he jumped up behind her.

"Where to, my lady?"

"I live on the second level," Bryane said, her voice low. He must have caught her words because he set off straight away. Bryane clung to his encircling arm as he cantered down the levels. The city looked different from up here and she couldn't quite avoid the stares of the few city-dwellers still abroad at twilight. It was most disconcerting to be the centre of so much attention.

When they'd gone through the gates at the second level, he stopped. "Where next?"

She looked up at him, staring into his smiling face. "Here's fine," she said. "I can find my way home from here."

He smiled at her. "It wouldn't be very gallant of me to leave you anywhere short of your own front door." She would have jumped down from the horse then. But it was such a long way down. And what if the horse shied?

"I live," she paused, taking in a deep breath. "I live opposite 'The Last Inn'." His eyes narrowed briefly but then they set off once more.

They reached 'The Last Inn'. The usual raucousness seemed to be in full swing. Just as he pulled the horse up opposite it, a brawl spilled into the street. Two men were cuffing each other about the ear and a few more followed them out, shouting loudly.

Bryane felt the man behind her pull himself up straighter in the saddle. "What is going on?" His voice sounded strangely quiet and yet seemed to echo down the street. The men around the fight recognised him first, their eyes widening.

One of them reached out to grab the combatants and half-yelled, "It's the Lord Boromir." For a second, the combatants seemed as if they would continue fighting but then they stopped, quite still. They sprung quickly to their feet and all the men bowed, looking awkwardly around as if not quite sure what to make of the situation.

Boromir gestured angrily and they went back inside the inn, in a manner far more subdued than they had left it. Once the men were safely inside the inn, Boromir slipped out of the saddle and onto the street. He put his hands around her waist and Bryane placed her hands on his shoulders to balance herself as he lifted her down. She was close to him and it was almost with a pang of regret that she felt his hands release her waist. Momentarily dazed, she bit her lip.

She looked up to see he was glancing up and down the street. Never before had it been more apparent to her how narrow it was. Even in the moonlight, the paint peeling off the buildings was all too evident. She pointed to the house before the one he had set her down in front of. "That's where I live, on the second storey." It felt like she was confessing a terrible secret, instead of just where her home was.

"There?"

"Yes, I must go," she'd half-turned away before she thought better of it and turned back, "You will remember to speak to the Warden, at the Houses of Healing?" He nodded but she noticed his gaze was still transfixed by her second-story home. "Are you sure?" She hadn't wanted to question him further but everything would have been pointless if he forgot.

He looked at her properly now and gave her an unconvincing smile. "I'm sure. Don't worry."

"Thank you, for everything," she said and went into her home.