Chapter 9: Boromir's Confession

Sunlight crept over the tops of the mountains. Pharazphel felt the warmth of the sun on her face as she awoke. Her strength had finally returned to her after a long absence. Thanks to the skill of her hosts, Pharazphel's numerous wounds were now reduced to scars that she would bear for the rest of her life. The only remaining trouble was that her arm remained in a sling, but it would soon mend.

Pharazphel sat up to see Ioreth, the old wife tending to her.

"How do you fare this morning, lady?" Ioreth wanted to know.

"My strength has returned to me, save for my arm," Pharazphel said.

"This is certainly glad tidings for you then," Ioreth said with a smile.

"Indeed, and I owe it all to your skill," Pharazphel said graciously. "I could not have wished for better hosts."

"You are most kind, Pharazphel," Ioreth said humbly. "Would you care for some breakfast?"

"I have only one request," Pharazphel said.

"And what is that?" Ioreth asked.

"I would like to walk about, if I may," Pharazphel requested. "I have lain in sloth for far too long it seems. My legs must remember their strength."

"If that is your wish, you may do so," Ioreth said.

"Thank you, Ioreth," Pharazphel said gratefully.

Pharazphel planted her feet to the floor. Summoning up her new strength, she stood up. Not surprising to Pharazphel, her legs were like jelly. She had not used them since her escape attempt and she sorely regretted that she could not walk before. Pharazphel willed herself to balance and took one step. Slowly, Pharazphel began to feel her legs remembering their strength.

Pharazphel made her way out to the gardens. She took in the fresh air of the outdoors. The smell of the trees, the flowers, and the air rejuvenated her, as she had not felt the air for many weeks. Even as she felt revived, she was troubled as she looked to the East. Lightning and black clouds of Mordor crept ever nearer to the city.

Just then, Pharazphel saw Boromir walking in the gardens.

"Not trying to escape again, are you?" Boromir asked dubiously.

"Do not worry, I am not going anywhere," Pharazphel reassured him.

"You seem troubled," Boromir said in concern.

"The darkness is spreading all over," Pharazphel said glumly.

"You need not be troubled," Boromir reassured her. "These days will be renewed. This darkness will not endure."

"That is a hopeful thought," Pharazphel said brightly.

"It is good to see that your strength has returned," Boromir said warmly.

"It is only due to the care of my generous hosts," Pharazphel said appreciatively. "I do not think that I would have found my strength again were it not for you."

"I do not think that it was ever lost," Boromir replied. "We simply helped you remember it."

"That you did," Pharazphel agreed. "If I may, there is but one host I have not thanked."

"And who might that be?" Boromir wanted to know.

"The lord of this city," Pharazphel replied. "I must thank the Lord Denethor for allowing me to be a guest here."

A wave of apprehension came over Boromir. He already saw how this meeting would play out. Denethor had been demanding that Pharazphel go home from the moment she arrived. He could not bear to subject Pharazphel to his father's temper.

"Would you not rather we tarry in the garden?" Boromir asked, hiding his fear.

"Perhaps later," Pharazphel replied. "Please, I must meet the Lord Denethor. He deserves my thanks."

"Are you certain that you must thank him?" Boromir asked.

"Well, of course I must," Pharazphel replied, baffled. "Are you not well this morning, Boromir?"

"Why do you ask?" Boromir wanted to know.

"Because your skin has just turned white," Pharazphel replied. "You look as if you're going to your death."

I think I am, Boromir thought to himself.

"I do not think it is a good idea to meet with my father. He's really a stubborn man," Boromir said hesitantly.

"I will be the judge of his character," Pharazphel declared.

"Truly, wouldn't you rather stay here?" Boromir asked desperately.

"Boromir, I do not know what madness has taken you, but I will meet your father to thank him for his hospitality," Pharazphel said firmly. "I am certain that your father is a generous man."

You have no idea, Boromir thought.

"Will you not take me to meet your Lord Denethor?" Pharazphel asked.

"Very well," Boromir agreed. "You shall have an audience with Lord Denethor."

Boromir's tone was clearly betraying his feelings. He knew that this was not a good idea. He only hoped in vain that his father would be merciful.

Boromir and Pharazphel climbed the steps to Denethor's chamber. Boromir was trembling, but he did not let Pharazphel know it. Denethor sat on his high, stone seat.

Pharazphel approached Denethor and bowed. "Hail, Denethor son of Ecthelion."

Denethor's face was unreadable. "And what be your name, lady?"

"I am Pharazphel, daughter of Pharazpher, my lord," Pharazphel said humbly.

"Are you not the same Pharazphel from Rohan?" Denethor asked.

"I am the only Pharazphel, my lord," Pharazphel replied.

"I have heard that you took a great torment in Rohan while fighting off Saruman's hordes," Denethor said, his tone uncertain.

"Yes, and that is why I am here," Pharazphel replied. "I have come to thank you for having me as a guest."

"Guest?" Denethor asked, as if confused.

"You have been a most gracious host and I am ever in the debt of you and your sons," Pharazphel praised.

"I trust that you are well?" Denethor asked.

"Indeed, I am my lord," Pharazphel said.

"I trust that now you shall be on your way to Rohan," Denethor said nonchalantly.

"I shall, but not until I have full use of my arm again, my lord," Pharazphel said.

"And why should you hesitate now to return to your home?" Denethor demanded, sneering at Pharazphel.

"I do not hesitate, my lord," Pharazphel said firmly.

"Did you not protest staying in the Houses of Healing? Did you not try to escape?" Denethor interrogated.

"I did, but now I realize that staying here has only done me good," Pharazphel said.

"Did you not consider what your presence here has done to me and my city?" Denethor said, his lip quivering.

"Forgive my ignorance, my lord. What has my presence done?" Pharazphel asked calmly.

"Did you not notice that Sauron's eye has its gaze on us?" Denethor asked.

"Yes, I have known that," Pharazphel answered.

"And while Sauron has his gaze upon my city, you have made my sons blind to this peril," Denethor said angrily.

"I assure you that I have not, my lord," Pharazphel said firmly.

"You insolent wench!" Denethor cried. "My sons have all but forgotten about the impending doom to care for you!"

"Father!" Boromir cried, aghast.

"Your sons are only doing what was right," Pharazphel argued. "I have not asked them to forget their duty and I never will."

"You asked that the moment you arrived here," Denethor countered.

"Would you rather I had died in the torment of the Uruk-Hai of Isengard?" Pharazphel demanded.

"Yes, that is what should have happened," Denethor said coldly.

The temperature in the room dropped. It was so cold in the room. Pharazphel stood silent for a long moment. Though she did not blench, she was hurt. There was anger in her eyes. Pharazphel could not believe the coldness of Denethor. Now she understood why Faramir felt neglected, and why Boromir was so hesitant.

"Perhaps your may get your wish sooner rather than later, my lord," Pharazphel said her voice a mixture of anger and sorrow.

Pharazphel turned and left the halls swiftly.

"Pharazphel!" Boromir called after her.

Boromir turned to his father. "How could you insult her? All she did was sing your praises and you spat on her."

"She is no different than your brother," Denethor said callously.

Boromir was taken aback. "Because they both desire your credit but you withhold it and you tantalize them."

"That Rohan wench is none of your concern anymore," Denethor said, his voice like stone. "She will return to Rohan, and you shall forget her."

"I will not," Boromir said firmly.

"Why do you act as if you are bound to her?" Denethor demanded.

"I believe that we both know the answer to that, Father," Boromir said.

When Boromir left the steward's halls, he found Pharazphel readying a horse.

"What are you doing?" Boromir asked in shock.

"If your father wishes me gone, then he will have that wish granted," Pharazphel replied, anger in her voice.

"Forgive me, Pharazphel," Boromir said earnestly.

"There is nothing to forgive from you, but your father should not send you to make amends," Pharazphel said. "Besides, I misjudged him."

"No, I should have warned you," Boromir said. "I should not have let you go."

"You are not to blame for this," Pharazphel said gently. "I will not upset your father any further. If he wishes that I die in torment, then so I shall."

"No, Pharazphel!" Boromir cried.

"There is nothing left for me here," Pharazphel declared. "I have nothing to live for. Therefore I have more reason to fulfill your father's wish."

"That is not true," Boromir countered.

"You are no longer bound to me, Boromir," Pharazphel said. "There is no need to pretend that you are."

"I am bound to you ever since I met you," Boromir said earnestly.

"What bond do you speak of?" Pharazphel asked.

"I love you," Boromir answered passionately.

Pharazphel could not move or speak. Her heart was pounding like a great hammer.

"I loved you ever since we first spoke to each other," Boromir said lovingly. "I was a fool to keep it to myself. That is the real reason I was afraid to let you go. I do not wish to be parted from you."

"If that is your wish, then it shall be fulfilled," Pharazphel said happily.

Merrily, Boromir swept Pharazphel into his arms. For a long time, they remained in each other's embrace, forgetting time and everything else. Then, at last, their lips met.

Suddenly, Madril, a lieutenant in the army of Gondor, ran up to Boromir.

"Boromir!" he cried.

"Catch your breath, my friend," Boromir said. "What is it?"

"Osgiliath is under attack!" Madril cried. "Droves of Orcs are crossing the river into the city."

"Bring me a horse, and I shall see to the defenses," Boromir said.

Madril fetched a horse and Boromir mounted it. He gazed for a long moment at Pharazphel. He knew that he could die in this battle, as did she. He memorized her face in that moment.

"Come back to me," Pharazphel whispered.

"I will fulfill your wish," Boromir whispered tenderly.

Without another word, Boromir sped off to Osgiliath. Pharazphel watched him go and she stood as still as stone. Though she had Boromir's love, her heart was troubled. She prayed that Boromir would fulfill his promise, but she knew that it was all in vain. As Boromir disappeared, Pharazphel knew that her only love had gone to his doom too soon.