This is not going to be a long chapter, I only want to establish something. =0)

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CHAPTER 3 : Connected

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Aislin dumped the empty laundry basket on the table with a satisfied grunt. There. Let no one accuse her of ever shirking her chores. Then she frowned at her shrivelled hands. How she hated them, so ugly and wrinkled. She rubbed them against each other, as if that would change anything. How could her mother possibly think that she could attract a husband with hands shrivelled from washing clothes?

"Vanity is not something men like in a woman," her mother said casually as she walked out from the kitchen. "Perhaps now you would like to go and do some sewing? I don't recall you finishing your last piece of work."

Aislin groaned. She hated all these mundane chores. Her mother had gone into the bedroom, to air the place out like she did very regularly. Slowly, Aislin began to inch for the door, and stepped out, shutting it quietly behind her, so that her mother would not know her gone until it was too late. She would probably get in trouble, yes, but not before she had had her fun.

Usually she headed to the marketplace, but usually she was only gone for a short while. This time, she did not intend to return home until the day was almost done. She nodded to herself. She was sixteen, she could take care of herself. And Minas Tirith was safe; the guards made it so. Where did she want to go, then?

She let her feet carry her where they would, and found herself outside the library. So be it. She entered, and her breath was once more taken away by the huge amounts of books. The librarian smiled at her, having recognised her from the day before, and knowing her a friend of Faramir. She smiled back, and then proceeded to browse around. She simply could not make up her mind about which book she would read first.

She did not know how long she had been there, lost in the legends and myths of Middle Earth, and she did not even notice when someone came to stand at her side. "Aislin."

She jumped, dropping her book. Boromir picked it up and handed it back to her. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to startle you."

"It's all right." She did not know what else to say. She had not expected to see Boromir in the library. Somehow, he did not seem to be one who would come to read about fairytales. Not like Faramir.

He laughed softly, sitting down next to her. "You remind me of Faramir. When he reads, it is almost impossible to get his attention, so lost he is in his book." He gestured to himself. "I do not read much, which I do find regretful sometimes. But there is always much to do. I have to conduct checks so often, and make sure the soldiers do not lack practice. There is peace now, but we always have to be prepared…"

Aislin patted his hand. "You are a good captain."

Boromir's eyes met hers. "Do you really think so?" He smiled when she nodded. "I am the youngest captain in Gondor. There are some who say that this is so only because I am my father's son, and no one can ever understand how much I have done to try and prove them wrong."

"Why do you worry about those people? They do not know you. You are a good captain, responsible and reliable. You will not let your country down. This would be so even if you were the son of a baker, and not the Steward."

Boromir nodded. "Faramir has said that to me as well, many times over. And at times I feel ashamed for thinking the way I do; my little brother has more troubles than I do, and he is but a lad still." He took Aislin's hand in his. "My brother needs someone like you. He needs a friend like you, to show him that he is not worthless. I have tried, but I know he thinks that I praise him only because he is my brother. He needs someone to prove to him that he is a good soldier, and a good man. And I'll have to beg of you to be that person."

"I will do what I can," Aislin promised.

Boromir relaxed, and spent the rest of the afternoon (as afternoon it already was) in the library with Aislin, chatting of the affairs of Gondor, and also telling her of Osgiliath, and other lands that he had been to. He told her funny stories of his childhood, and of Faramir's, and she, in turn, shared her more amusing escapades with him.

When Aislin finally decided to return home (and continue her chores), both felt strangely connected, and satisfied.