Title: A Message

Summary: An ill Boromir wakes to world without his family.

Prompt: "Sickness"

Word count: 502


Boromir awoke to the early morning of a new week drained and sore, no recollection of prior events. A steady pain throbbed in the left side of his chest, which felt ready to collapse in on itself. He winced with every laborious breath he took. His throat was dry and raw, adding on to his discomfort.

The bedroom door opened to reveal Ioreth. He frowned, raising his head a little. Where was Eowyn? The old healer seemed to notice the unspoken question and said, "Her ladyship and the baby have been taken to reside in Ithilien with your brother and his missus, by order of the king." She sat on the edge of the bed and placed a cool hand upon his head forehead, over warm from fever.

"So good to see you awake, my lord. We feared the sickness would claim you as well." There had been other deaths? Boromir managed a half-hearted smile for the woman, his mind wandered back to his loved ones. Eowyn and Miriel were safe and away from the city. His mind could rest easy even if his body could not.

Ioreth rose from the bed, a happy smile on her face. "I shall go now to fetch the king, he will want to see to you personally," She reached into the pocket of her apron and revealed a piece of folded parchment, wrinkled from constant handling. He focused his bleary gaze on the parchment in her hand, curiosity piqued. Ioreth handed him the folded parchment, more or less, pressing the unseen message into his hand to spare him any need to move. "Her ladyship wrote this to you and asked I give it to you upon your awakening," Ioreth explained.

Boromir nodded his thanks to the healer. "Think nothing of it, my lord," She said before departing. The door shut with a click, Boromir lowered his head back onto the pillow, his body trembled from the short burst of energy he managed to conjure. He clung to his wife's letter for dear life, raising his arms from his side he began to open the letter addressed to him. The light of the morning illuminated the parchment in his hand, Eowyn's fine handwriting was a remarkable sight. Squinting he tried to read her message, written in obvious haste.

'Dearest Boromir:

Though you lie oblivious to the world, trapped by fever, I must be quick with my letter. Aragorn has ordered that I, and everyone untouched by this sickness, leave the city. I go to Ithilien to stay with Faramir and Idis. I take Miriel with me as well. Should you wake before I return and the sickness lingers still, please know I wish to be nowhere but by your side. Stay strong my love, do not leave us yet. Our daughter would not be pleased to loose her father before her 1st birthday.

-Eowyn'