I remember the day Leanor first set eyes on Boromir son of Denethor.

She came home with a strange, dreamy expression in her eyes, and continued to dream throughout that evening, as full of sighs and longing looks as any lovesick chit i ever knew.

"Come now." I remember saying, as i helped her to undress before bed, "And tell me of him."

She looked up at me with surprise.

"I wasn't born yestermorn, my lady." I chided her. "It's writ plainly across your face that you're lost over a man."

"Bronwynne." She snapped, "what would you know of such things?"

I remember the curtain seeming to fall across my mind. She is speaking of my leg, and the puckered scars along my face. Of course, in her youth and bloom, she cannot percieve how anyone may love a disfigured monster such as i.

"As you wish, lady." I replied, "And if that will be all i'll be leaving now."

"Oh, Bronwynne!" She cries, "I did not mean that. Come back. I shall tell you of him. You are my dearest friend in the world. I should not have spoken so harshly." She twists her pretty mouth into a pout.

My lady can be like this sometimes; first cruel and quick as cut glass and then light and lovely as a butterfly.

I sigh, and seat myself beside her on the bed. "Aye, you're a good girl. I spoil you. Tell me of him."

She leans against me as if she were a child once more.

"He is tall, and brave, and beautiful. Surely there is no man on this earth that is his equal. His eyes pierce like a hawk's his smile is such that i should lose my self entirely in it if i should let myself..." She sighs, a long, lovesick noise.

I stroke her hair and wait for her to finish.

"but father would never..."

I shake my head knowingly. "Hush thyself now. You shall only work yourself into a fit of melancholy. You should sleep, love, so as to be fresh in the morning. Sweet dreams."

"They shall only be sweet if he is in them." her voice is self-pitying.

"Then I wish you both joy in dreams." I reply. I sigh softly, and smooth my skirt.

"Were you ever in love, Bronwynne?" She asks. Her blue eyes scrutinize me carefully in case I should lie to her.

"Oh, aye." I opt for truth, "I was in love." I sound rather lovesick myself at this point. "He was a good man."

"A lord? A dashing captain? A traveling musician?" She smiles, eyes dancing as she tries to get me to tell her the story.

I giggle, surprising myself in the girlishness of the noise. "Nay, he was..." i trail off, realizing how much i almost just revealed. "A good man." I repeat, a little wistfully.

"What happened to him?" She asks, her gaze solemn.

"He and i were seperated." I cannot hide the bitterness in my voice. "But now is no time for such grief-ridden stories." I stand, and wince a little at the pain in my leg.

"It is your leg, isn't it?" Leanor asks, ever observant.

"Yes, after all these years, still it pains me."

"I shall have Reanne prepare a hot soak with lavendar oil for you." She says, satisfied that she has solved my problem, at least temporarily.

I smile, blow out her candle, and leave her alone in her moonlit room.