Author's Note: Hello and welcome to chapter nine of "The Price of Pity". Now this chapter is somewhat different from the rest, as the flashback comes for a third party, a servant and her own knowledge of the situation is scattered. Therefore, you won't find out what exactly happened between Aniror and Boromir to cause such a quarrel. (I know, I am being such a cruel author here, sorry!) I would like to extend my most sincere thanks to everyone who read the last chapter those who reviewed, Awen1923, Lady Anck-su-namun, Sarahbarr17, Nari-chan SND, ElfLuver13 and MerryKK. I do not have a beta and while I have proofread this chapter many times, I am sure I have not caught all my mistakes. Any errors that appear in canon, grammar or spelling are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Tolkien's masterpiece.

Chapter Nine Storm

Eowyn slipped into her chamber sometime around noon, her hair wild and wind-blown and touched by the scent of grass. She had gone for a ride, enjoying the quiet moment of freedom that took her away from stony Minas Tirith and into the fields where the sun still shone. Autumn had fallen over Gondor of late and at night when the winds howled. Winter seemed not far away. Eowyn was accustomed to riding in all sorts of weather, though she preferred the crisp air of the fall, when the horses were alert and lifted their hooves high above the plains.

Clouds had tumbled through the skies that morning, long, wispy clouds that spoke of rain but shed not droplet. She was grateful for it, as much for herself as for Faramir. Having a quiet (and rare) afternoon that was not restricted by work, he had taken little Miresgal out. The child had boundless energy and would no doubt have galloped through the cities seven levels if Faramir did not stop him.

But perhaps a day spent amongst the sun and wind would calm the boy, or so she hoped. He was part of Elf-kind after all and seemed to love the beauties of nature.

Eowyn crossed the chamber and threw her riding gloves on the bed. Mud decorated the hem of her gown and left small smudges on her face. She sat in the chair by the hearth and stretched her booted feet out before her.

As shameful as it was, Eowyn found herself pleased with Miresgal's absence. The child's temperament had approved in small measures over the past two weeks, but not enough to convince her that he was altogether obedient. She wondered if he truly could sense his mother's death that hung over the household. Surely, he must be confused.

The door that led to her dressing room opened and a young handmaid slipped out.

"My lady, I thought I heard you come in," the woman smiled. Her drab grey sleeves were pushed up past her elbows and her arms shone with water.

Eowyn stretched. "I only just returned, Esgaleth. The wind was wild today and I enjoyed the dance of the clouds far too much."

"So I see, my lady," Esgaleth said. She came to stand by Eowyn's side, her eyes fixed on the stained gown. "I have drawn a bath for you, Lady Eowyn. It is hot now. Will you wash?"

"Ah yes." Eowyn leapt to her feet, glad that such a comfort had been provided. Esgaleth led her to dressing chamber and helped her disrobe. Eowyn sank into the tub, rinsing the grim and grease from her hair as Esgaleth brushed the dirt from her gown.

When she had finished, Eowyn leaned her head against the rim of the tub and watched the woman. The maid had been employed by Faramir's father, Denethor or so she had been told. Loyal, Faramir had called her. He seemed to have some knowledge of Esgaleth above that which was shared by master and servant.

A question came to Eowyn's mind. She raised her head and called to the maid.

"Esgaleth, did you know Aniror?"

The poor woman froze, her hands fisting in Eowyn's now clean gown.

"You must have," Eowyn said, plowing ahead despite the maid's obvious upset. "Tell me, please. I shall not be vexed. I only wish to know."

Esgaleth shook her head, her wide mouth opened silently. She sank onto a nearby stool and brushed back her black hair with one shaking hand.

"Oh, my lady," she said at last. "I did. I did know the Elf Aniror. I…I was her handmaid."

Eowyn sat up, the water streaming off her shoulders.

"Her handmaid?"

"Yes, my lady. It was not a pleasant task, begging the pardon of Lord Faramir and his poor son. I had little work to do while she lived, as she did not care for my presence. But yes, I did attend to her for six years."

"Then you must know everything!" Eowyn said. Her voice trembled with excitement. Esgaleth continued to shake her head. "Come now," Eowyn sank back into the tub and slapped the water with her hand. "Servants hear and see the most. I will not snitch on you, fear not. I only wish to learn of Aniror. Please, Esgaleth."

But Esgaleth paled and looked as though she were ill. "My lady, I do not know as much as you would-

"But you must know something. Tell me. I shan't be angry."

"Well." Esgaleth rose and folded Eowyn's gown, storing it away in a trunk. "There was one particular incident, one which occurred when Lord Faramir was away in Ithilien as he oft was. But oh, I cannot speak of it."

"Nonsense," Eowyn said. "I shall hear it all."

"It would upset Lord Faramir," Esgaleth replied. Her eyes were sad and frightened.

"Then he shall not know."

"Oh." Esgaleth sat back down on her stool. "Oh, well if you insist upon it, my lady."

"I do."

Esgaleth heaved a great sigh and stared at the floor. "Two years had passed since Lord Faramir brought the Elf to Gondor, I believe. And he was once more in Ithilien. Lord Boromir, however, was often in the city. And often he kept a sharp eye on Aniror."


October 3015 Third Age

Esgaleth swept the floor of the chamber, her broom moving in short, quick strokes. Dust rose and tickled her nose. Sharp rays of sunlight fell threw the window. Aniror lay upon the bed, lost to some ancient Elven reverie. Esgaleth sneaked a glance at the creature and her long hair that fell off the bed.

Aniror sighed and Esgaleth dropped her eyes once more. She hated when the Lord Faramir was gone to Ithilien, when she was forced to endure the somber, daily presence of her mistress. The Elf's company unnerved her.

Suddenly, Aniror sat up. She stretched and cast back her arms. Her mouth fell open, shaping a sigh.

"This will be the death of me."

Esgaleth could not tell if her mistress addressed her and spoke to some confident hidden in her own mind. She bit her lip and continued sweeping. With any fortune, the Elf would ignore her as usual.

"Did you not hear me?" the swift anger in Aniror's tone caused Esgaleth to stiffen. She clutched her broom, leaning on the long handle as her mistress hopped off the bed.

"Forgive me, lady." A curtsey was in order, if only to appease the raging wretch. Esgaleth bent her knees. Aniror seemed satisfied.

"I tire of the gardens," the Elf said. She paced across the chamber, her gown stirring the carefully piled dust. Esgaleth swallowed a sigh.

"Perhaps my lady would enjoy a walk in the city," she tried. Aniror wheeled about and glared at her as though the mere suggestion were a foul curse.

"And endure the stares of those petty, pitiful peasants?"

Esgaleth shook her head and searched in vain for another answer. But Aniror whipped away, lingering by the hearth. Some needlework had been laid on the chair and she inspected it with a frown,

"I think I am going mad."

A knock sounded on the door before Esgaleth could speak. She smiled in relief, ignoring Aniror's growing scowl.

"Shall I answer it, my lady?"

"Oh, very-

The door swung. Lord Boromir barreled into the chamber. Fury hardened his face and he stared at Aniror. Esgaleth thought she would wither under such a look.

Yet Aniror was a creature of stone, not ice and could not melt away beneath hate. Esgaleth withdrew herself to a corner, her broom fallen to the floor. Something in Boromir's stance terrified her.

It was a long moment before either of them spoke and Esgaleth found herself wishing for the silence to break. Instead, it rose over them, a great black wave that devoured the world and sucked the stars from the sky. She flattened herself against the wall, waiting for the roar and howl of the storm.

At last, Boromir spoke, his shoulders stiff and knotted with tension. "Aniror, what have you done?"

Aniror's eyebrows danced across her brow. "This is most unfair, dear brother-in-law. You rush into my chamber and catch me unawares whilst I wallow in my mischief." Her sarcasm blanketed the warm air and Boromir shivered with rage.

"Oh, I would have your coy tongue torn from your mouth!" he muttered. Esgaleth felt her heart jump. Never before had she heard him speak so.

"Such a threat." Aniror chuckled. She turned away from him and sauntered around her chair.

"I saw you yesterday morn, by the guardhouse." Boromir followed her, his boots slamming upon the stone floor.

"I was bored. Am I not allowed to hold conversation with the soldiers of Gondor?"

"Not when you weave your treacherous web."

"Piglet," Aniror said over her shoulder.

"Do you deny it?" Boromir clapped one large hand over the back of the chair. "Do you dare?"

"I have nothing to deny."

"False words you spoke and hidden truths you sought," Boromir said. Aniror halted but did not look at him.

"I have done nothing."

"And I have no reason to believe you."

Aniror scoffed. "Wretched man. Your paranoia is misguided. Leave me or apologize. For I have done little wrong, except waste away in this cold chamber while the sun falls and the moon rises."

Boromir appeared at a loss. For a moment, he shifted his weight and watched as Aniror perched by the window, her cheek pressed upon the sill. Esgaleth dared to step forward and grab her broom. The heat of the argument was spent. Boromir grunted, then abruptly took his leave.

The chamber door snapped shut, the old hinges rattling as the last of Boromir's rage was spent. Esgaleth resumed her sweeping.

Aniror turned from the window. "You as well, woman."

"Your pardon, my lady?" Esgaleth glanced up.

"I said leave. I want to be alone."

Esgaleth stifled her joy, falling into another curtsey before her feet took her out the door. Blessings were small these days, but not few.


Esgaleth hurried down the hall, her stomach grumbling louder with every step. Night had descended over the once blue sky and she had not eaten since daybreak. The gentle scent of baking bread wafted up from the kitchens, making her smile. A good meal awaited her.

The kitchen maids were always eager to hear tales of the Elf dwelling in the Citadel and Esgaleth found herself to be suddenly popular. After supper they would sit by the large hearth and whisper, the logs crackling as pots bubbled and boiled about them. She enjoyed the cheerful company that her evenings brought and the release from anxious sobriety that filled her days.

Around a corner she turned and the stone floor made her footsteps echo. The torches had been lit in the hall, though dim shadows still lurked elsewhere. And voices sounded, two of them, hushed and fervent. Esgaleth paid them little mind as she went along her way. Mutterings were best left unheard, she thought, lest some unworthy secret fall upon wrongful ears.

But the mention of a name caused her tiny feet to falter. She stopped, only for a moment and against her better judgment, listened.

"I was unduly harsh with Aniror," Lord Boromir said. By the sound of things, he was pacing, his boots tapping across the corridor. "Do I dare to apologize?"

"No!" the second voice was adamant and Esgaleth recognized the speaker as a guard who had longed served the Steward of Gondor. A wise man was he and kind, with much to say and little to hide. Esgaleth found herself leaning against the cold wall, her ears reaching for mumbled phrases and words.

"It would be foolhardy to apologize to such a creature, my lord. You perceived a wrong and tried to right it."

"But what if I was in the wrong? What if my mind ran amiss and I construed falsehoods out of innocence?"

"Have you ever known your brother's wife to be innocent?"

Boromir sighed and seemed to stop his pacing. "Never. Never once did a truthful word spring from her lips. Even in Lothlorien, the radiant Lady of Light could not contain her. Alas! My warnings fell on deaf ears. I thought I had freed poor Faramir from the thorny trap but he wandered back into it."

"Then perhaps you should court optimism, kindest lord," the guard said. "Assume that the Elf has changed. Two years have past. Could Lord Faramir's wife have resigned herself to goodness?"

"I put little faith and optimism in her mind," Boromir replied. Esgaleth twisted her hands together. Reason told her to return to the kitchens, along with her growling stomach. But curiosity bound her feet to the place. Scowling at her weakness, she dared to take a step further down the hall.

"But oh, I was angry," Lord Boromir groaned. "And I saw her standing there amongst loyal men, good men. Such a great love they bear for Faramir. And I could not but think that she spread mischief, that she worked in dark ways to turn them against him."

"Begging your most sincere pardon, my lord, but do you think she has made a cuckold out of your dear brother?"

"No, not at all. Despite her wretchedness, it is not the way of an Elf to stray and fold to the temptations of the flesh."

"Nor is it the way of an Elf to wed a Man."

"Her treachery is not quite so base," Boromir continued. "She is a clever little witch. She works in lies and accusations. She twists the thoughts of righteous men to believe strange things. I think she wishes for Faramir to lose the gret devotion of his men, just as she lost the devotion of her kin. Aniror aspired to Captain of the Elven guard in Lothlorien. Now she is naught but an exile, a murderer who would have stained her knife with blood had she been given the chance. She wishes to take from Faramir what she most desired."

A moment passed before either of the men spoke and Esgaleth thought they had moved away. But then, the wise old guard cleared his throat.

"My lord, how sure are you of such?"

"I have only speculation," Boromir lamented. "I saw her whispering to the guards yesterday morn and feared, oh I feared the worst. And when I spoke with her today she only refuted my claims. Perhaps I should not have been so rough with her. Faramir has borne the burden of these two years with tolerance. I find I can no longer stand such torment. Disrespectful she is and merciless. It is only a matter of short time before she falls into some wickedness. I will not have her sunder this fair city, or my poor brother."

More silence. Esgaleth stifled her breathing with her hand. A long minute dragged by and then another. Both guard and lord seemed to be mulling over their own thoughts. At length, however, the guard spoke again.

"You could go to your father, my lord."

Boromir scoffed but the guard continued on.

"He does not know of how the Elf came to Gondor. He does not know that she was exiled. He does not know that she attempted to harm one of her own kin."

"Faramir would never forgive me," Boromir said. His voice was soft, pained.

"It is for his own good, my lord. For Gondor's good. Surely he would understand such, in time."

"I would not cause him any great upset."

"Why should such cause upset? If he is freed from a treacherous marriage, then perhaps he will find happiness and love elsewhere. Think of how it is now for him, condemned to a life of sorrow with a horrid creature. Surely, your act would be one of mercy."

Their voices began to fade and Esgaleth suspected that they were walking away. Her legs trembled and she did not dare follow them. No, she had heard enough.

"Faramir would never forgive me," Boromir said one last time, before the darkness swallowed him and Esgaleth ran from the corridor.


Esgaleth crossed her arms over her middle and hunched over her seat. "There you have it, my lady. That is all I can tell."

Eowyn ran a wet hand over her brow, the water dripping from her forearm. Perhaps it was best that Faramir did not know of such.

"I know little more of the incident," the maid said. She stood and helped Eowyn out of the bath. "But soon afterwards more trouble brewed and poor Lord Faramir had quite a homecoming."

"Thank you, Esgaleth," Eowyn said as she was wrapped in a long piece of cloth to dry her body with. "You were quite brave to speak on the matter. I am most pleased."

The maid glanced at her new mistress and smiled sadly. "Now that I have spoken, my lady, I would much rather forget."


Author's Note: Yes, I know I am being nearly as wicked as Aniror here by not telling you all the circumstances surrounding the argument. I apologize, but there is merit in some mystery, I think. To make up for it though, I will try to post chapter ten early, most likely on Monday or Tuesday.

Anyway, thanks so much for reading! Please review, feedback makes my day!