A/N: Sorry all on the relatively slow update, but my hard drive crashed, and it took me a couple of days to retrieve my things from it and get my computer fixed. This story has finally surpassed the fifty-review mark! Thanks all! I'm glad you're enjoying it.
Chapter 12
Denethor emerged from Faramir's room well past dark, after his son finally had fallen into a restless sleep. Boromir was still pacing in the hallway, and Denethor was surprised by it.
"Boromir, have you taken no rest for yourself?"
"Nay, Father. I am too anxious about Faramir. How fares he?"
The steward glanced at the floor for a moment. "His condition is the same, though now he is thoroughly bandaged. Perhaps he shall yet survive this."
Boromir nodded, unable to meet his father's gaze when it returned to his son's face. "I would like to sit with him for a while as well, Father."
Denethor nodded and clapped his eldest upon the shoulder. "Thank you for bringing him home to me, Boromir," he said. Then he smiled. "Now go sit with your Fara. I am certain that your presence only can truly bring him peace."
"Thank you, Father," said Boromir, watching as Denethor strode down the corridor, meeting his waiting guards before he departed the Houses of Healing. Quietly Boromir entered the room, the only illumination within coming from the glowing hearth, the light of the low flames dancing upon his brother's motionless features. Ioreth looked up from the chair next to the bed, and immediately stood when she saw who had entered, trying to hide the fact that she was wiping tears from her eyes. "My lady," said Boromir quietly.
"Boromir, now is not the time to be formal with me, for I helped to raise you both from the time you were babes." She bowed her head, a fresh wave of tears threatening. "Whatever shall we do without dear Faramir?"
"Ioreth, is there truly no hope for him?"
She shook her head, as she pulled a kerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. "His ribs are broken beyond repair, Boromir. Would that I could do something for him besides watching him slip away from us."
"Please, Ioreth," said Boromir, and the healer heard within his voice traces of the boy he had once been. "Would you stay with him awhile longer? I have something that I need to tend to, but it shall not take more than a few minutes, I promise."
Her brow furrowed slightly. "Something more important than your brother?"
"Nay, it is for him that I do it. Please, Ioreth." He waited, half- expecting her to scold him, but she nodded finally, and he leaned in, kissing her soundly on the cheek. "I shall not be long!" And he stampeded from the room as he would have when he had been a boy. Ioreth sighed and sank back into the chair to keep watch for Faramir's passing.
Boromir strode purposefully through the corridors until he was outside, and then he ran to the Brindle Boar as if the whole of Sauron's host was behind him.
Boromir had been given plenty of time to wonder about his little brother's strange words in the forest as he had waited outside of Faramir's room, pacing while Denethor was within. She has taken my soul! The statement rang through his head again and again. And though the warrior had discounted the idea as being the invention of a distraught mind, now he was not so certain.
The female had followed Faramir of her own volition, and as his brother had seemed so much more at peace with her nearby, Boromir had allowed her to come into the city with them. Nothing that Boromir had said to his brother had made him change his mind about her presence. She now followed him into the room, her face still hidden by her black hood. Ioreth still sat silently in the chair next to his brother, but stood when she saw this new visitor, her face paling visibly.
She has taken my soul!
Boromir had shuddered involuntarily as he had reentered Faramir's dimly-lit room, silently crossing to Ioreth, thanking her softly for waiting. She nodded wordlessly, sparing more than one glance for his companion as she patted Faramir's hand one last time and then left the room.
Boromir sat upon the chair, perching only upon the edge of it, grimacing as he once again laid eyes on his brother's bandaged body, listened to his brother's labored breathing. He could feel the woman's eyes upon him, making him feel decidedly uncomfortable, but he said nothing, just calmly observing the slow rise and fall of the ranger's chest.
"Do you fear me?" she asked quietly, her musical voice anything but soothing, as she settled into a chair in the corner.
"I fear naught," answered Boromir a little too quickly, adding, "naught but the loss of my brother."
"You have great pride. It is fitting for a Man of your station to have such pride, Lord Boromir."
He turned and glared at her. "It escapes me how I have allowed you to learn my name when I do not yet know yours."
"I am Lachdúliel."
"What do you intend to do with him, Lachdúliel?" asked Boromir with characteristic directness.
"As he is in need," she replied mildly, "I shall place my hands upon his body and take the injuries from him, giving him my strength. Will you allow your fears to prevent me from helping him?"
Boromir turned back to Faramir, unable to gaze upon his pale face for very long. The warrior sighed uncertainly and ran a hand through his dark hair.
"My lady, how can I allow you to lay your hands upon my brother when I know naught of you? How can I know that you do not mean him harm? He is a son of the Steward of Gondor. Our enemies actively seek our deaths, knowing what we are to the people of Gondor."
She remained silent, and Boromir decided that she must be lost in thought.
"He says that you have taken his soul," murmured the warrior, taking Faramir's good hand in his own.
The Elf laughed quietly, the mere sound causing Faramir to stir in his sleep, a slight smile flitting across his features. "I wondered how he might interpret our. . .joining."
Boromir turned back to her, his expression a mixture of confusion and outrage. "Joining? My brother is an honorable man!"
She silenced him with a gesture of her hand. "Forgive me. That was a poor label for what has occurred, Lord Boromir. Perhaps a more accurate phrase might be 'mental convergence'."
"What does that mean?" spat Boromir, heedless now of his sleeping brother.
"If you wish to hear it, I shall tell you the entire story, though I warn you, it is long and unhappy. And, even as we speak, he bleeds inside, his lungs fail him little by little." She stood and Boromir immediately did the same. "He has only minutes left to him. As you are his brother, I would assume that you would wish him to survive his injuries by any means available. Is your pride worth more even than his life?" She took a step closer. "Please. It pains me to see him suffer, as I know it pains you. Please, allow me to help him before it is too late. I can only gift him his life once, and that has already been done."
Boromir was not a trusting man by nature, but there was something reassuring about her. "Lower your hood, my lady. I would see the face of the one who professes to be able to miraculously raise my brother from the dead."
She hesitated only a moment before she turned to her left and then lowered the hood from her head, the soft, black folds falling about her shoulders, revealing a pale Elven profile, her features startlingly beautiful in the dancing light of the fire. Her long hair, black as night, surrounded a delicately pointed ear. Never had he laid his eyes upon a Elf before, and Boromir was amazed by her loveliness. Had Faramir allowed himself to be blinded by her beauty?
Lowering her face, she looked down upon the floor before she turned toward Boromir and then raised her face to him. Boromir could not help but gasp. Whereas the right side of her face was smooth and pale and lovely, the left side was scarred and red and horrifying, her features bent and stretched out of shape.
"Forgive me, Lady Lachdúliel," murmured the warrior, lowering his eyes from the sight as he belatedly realized that he was staring at her.
"There is naught to forgive, my lord. You are honest in your reaction to me, and I do not fault you for it."
Boromir found himself trembling. "My lady, what befell you?" he asked quietly, returning his gaze to her face, his eyes steadfast.
"As I said, it is a long and unhappy story, but for now, it suffices to say that you and I have the same enemy, my lord." Boromir nodded. She gestured toward the bed. "Your brother?"
The elder turned back toward the younger. Boromir knew that Faramir would not make it through the night. No one with injuries as severe as this should have been able to live so long as he had. Little brother, ever have I trusted your judgment. Do not fail me this time. Aloud he said, "Whatever it is, do it."
Lachdúliel nodded slightly and moved to Faramir's side, sitting upon the mattress next to him. She reached out mentally to him, gently entering his slumber, bidding him to awaken. As the ranger's eyes fluttered open, the Elf began to unfasten the bandages from Faramir's torso, removed her gloves, and then softly laid her hands upon his ribs.
Boromir watched in wonder as an amber-tinged light flared there, enveloping his little brother's body. Faramir shuddered a little and then sighed deeply in relief, finally able to draw a full breath without pain. When the Elf at last removed her hands, she slumped forward slightly as if she were ill and Boromir moved toward her, thinking that she might topple from the edge of the bed.
"No." Though said with in a weak voice, the single word was a command, and the warrior obeyed, stopping in his tracks as he watched her recover herself and then replace her gloves. His gaze moved to his brother's face, and his heart melted in relief when he saw Faramir's wan smile directed at him. Boromir sank down onto his knees next to his brother's bed, and the ranger took the warrior's hand in his own, bringing it to his lips, kissing it once.
Faramir then turned his attention to Lachdúliel and spoke to her in the language of the Elves. Boromir didn't know why, but he was greatly concerned by the expression within his brother's eyes as Faramir gazed upon her.
"My lady?" queried Boromir, as he stood up, wondering about the Elf as she nodded but said nothing, obviously suffering some ill effects from providing relief for the ranger. Trembling, she stood slowly and turned toward Boromir, her face a mask of pain.
"I should have. . . ." She took a step toward him, and he barely had time to catch her as she collapsed into his arms.
Chapter 12
Denethor emerged from Faramir's room well past dark, after his son finally had fallen into a restless sleep. Boromir was still pacing in the hallway, and Denethor was surprised by it.
"Boromir, have you taken no rest for yourself?"
"Nay, Father. I am too anxious about Faramir. How fares he?"
The steward glanced at the floor for a moment. "His condition is the same, though now he is thoroughly bandaged. Perhaps he shall yet survive this."
Boromir nodded, unable to meet his father's gaze when it returned to his son's face. "I would like to sit with him for a while as well, Father."
Denethor nodded and clapped his eldest upon the shoulder. "Thank you for bringing him home to me, Boromir," he said. Then he smiled. "Now go sit with your Fara. I am certain that your presence only can truly bring him peace."
"Thank you, Father," said Boromir, watching as Denethor strode down the corridor, meeting his waiting guards before he departed the Houses of Healing. Quietly Boromir entered the room, the only illumination within coming from the glowing hearth, the light of the low flames dancing upon his brother's motionless features. Ioreth looked up from the chair next to the bed, and immediately stood when she saw who had entered, trying to hide the fact that she was wiping tears from her eyes. "My lady," said Boromir quietly.
"Boromir, now is not the time to be formal with me, for I helped to raise you both from the time you were babes." She bowed her head, a fresh wave of tears threatening. "Whatever shall we do without dear Faramir?"
"Ioreth, is there truly no hope for him?"
She shook her head, as she pulled a kerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. "His ribs are broken beyond repair, Boromir. Would that I could do something for him besides watching him slip away from us."
"Please, Ioreth," said Boromir, and the healer heard within his voice traces of the boy he had once been. "Would you stay with him awhile longer? I have something that I need to tend to, but it shall not take more than a few minutes, I promise."
Her brow furrowed slightly. "Something more important than your brother?"
"Nay, it is for him that I do it. Please, Ioreth." He waited, half- expecting her to scold him, but she nodded finally, and he leaned in, kissing her soundly on the cheek. "I shall not be long!" And he stampeded from the room as he would have when he had been a boy. Ioreth sighed and sank back into the chair to keep watch for Faramir's passing.
Boromir strode purposefully through the corridors until he was outside, and then he ran to the Brindle Boar as if the whole of Sauron's host was behind him.
Boromir had been given plenty of time to wonder about his little brother's strange words in the forest as he had waited outside of Faramir's room, pacing while Denethor was within. She has taken my soul! The statement rang through his head again and again. And though the warrior had discounted the idea as being the invention of a distraught mind, now he was not so certain.
The female had followed Faramir of her own volition, and as his brother had seemed so much more at peace with her nearby, Boromir had allowed her to come into the city with them. Nothing that Boromir had said to his brother had made him change his mind about her presence. She now followed him into the room, her face still hidden by her black hood. Ioreth still sat silently in the chair next to his brother, but stood when she saw this new visitor, her face paling visibly.
She has taken my soul!
Boromir had shuddered involuntarily as he had reentered Faramir's dimly-lit room, silently crossing to Ioreth, thanking her softly for waiting. She nodded wordlessly, sparing more than one glance for his companion as she patted Faramir's hand one last time and then left the room.
Boromir sat upon the chair, perching only upon the edge of it, grimacing as he once again laid eyes on his brother's bandaged body, listened to his brother's labored breathing. He could feel the woman's eyes upon him, making him feel decidedly uncomfortable, but he said nothing, just calmly observing the slow rise and fall of the ranger's chest.
"Do you fear me?" she asked quietly, her musical voice anything but soothing, as she settled into a chair in the corner.
"I fear naught," answered Boromir a little too quickly, adding, "naught but the loss of my brother."
"You have great pride. It is fitting for a Man of your station to have such pride, Lord Boromir."
He turned and glared at her. "It escapes me how I have allowed you to learn my name when I do not yet know yours."
"I am Lachdúliel."
"What do you intend to do with him, Lachdúliel?" asked Boromir with characteristic directness.
"As he is in need," she replied mildly, "I shall place my hands upon his body and take the injuries from him, giving him my strength. Will you allow your fears to prevent me from helping him?"
Boromir turned back to Faramir, unable to gaze upon his pale face for very long. The warrior sighed uncertainly and ran a hand through his dark hair.
"My lady, how can I allow you to lay your hands upon my brother when I know naught of you? How can I know that you do not mean him harm? He is a son of the Steward of Gondor. Our enemies actively seek our deaths, knowing what we are to the people of Gondor."
She remained silent, and Boromir decided that she must be lost in thought.
"He says that you have taken his soul," murmured the warrior, taking Faramir's good hand in his own.
The Elf laughed quietly, the mere sound causing Faramir to stir in his sleep, a slight smile flitting across his features. "I wondered how he might interpret our. . .joining."
Boromir turned back to her, his expression a mixture of confusion and outrage. "Joining? My brother is an honorable man!"
She silenced him with a gesture of her hand. "Forgive me. That was a poor label for what has occurred, Lord Boromir. Perhaps a more accurate phrase might be 'mental convergence'."
"What does that mean?" spat Boromir, heedless now of his sleeping brother.
"If you wish to hear it, I shall tell you the entire story, though I warn you, it is long and unhappy. And, even as we speak, he bleeds inside, his lungs fail him little by little." She stood and Boromir immediately did the same. "He has only minutes left to him. As you are his brother, I would assume that you would wish him to survive his injuries by any means available. Is your pride worth more even than his life?" She took a step closer. "Please. It pains me to see him suffer, as I know it pains you. Please, allow me to help him before it is too late. I can only gift him his life once, and that has already been done."
Boromir was not a trusting man by nature, but there was something reassuring about her. "Lower your hood, my lady. I would see the face of the one who professes to be able to miraculously raise my brother from the dead."
She hesitated only a moment before she turned to her left and then lowered the hood from her head, the soft, black folds falling about her shoulders, revealing a pale Elven profile, her features startlingly beautiful in the dancing light of the fire. Her long hair, black as night, surrounded a delicately pointed ear. Never had he laid his eyes upon a Elf before, and Boromir was amazed by her loveliness. Had Faramir allowed himself to be blinded by her beauty?
Lowering her face, she looked down upon the floor before she turned toward Boromir and then raised her face to him. Boromir could not help but gasp. Whereas the right side of her face was smooth and pale and lovely, the left side was scarred and red and horrifying, her features bent and stretched out of shape.
"Forgive me, Lady Lachdúliel," murmured the warrior, lowering his eyes from the sight as he belatedly realized that he was staring at her.
"There is naught to forgive, my lord. You are honest in your reaction to me, and I do not fault you for it."
Boromir found himself trembling. "My lady, what befell you?" he asked quietly, returning his gaze to her face, his eyes steadfast.
"As I said, it is a long and unhappy story, but for now, it suffices to say that you and I have the same enemy, my lord." Boromir nodded. She gestured toward the bed. "Your brother?"
The elder turned back toward the younger. Boromir knew that Faramir would not make it through the night. No one with injuries as severe as this should have been able to live so long as he had. Little brother, ever have I trusted your judgment. Do not fail me this time. Aloud he said, "Whatever it is, do it."
Lachdúliel nodded slightly and moved to Faramir's side, sitting upon the mattress next to him. She reached out mentally to him, gently entering his slumber, bidding him to awaken. As the ranger's eyes fluttered open, the Elf began to unfasten the bandages from Faramir's torso, removed her gloves, and then softly laid her hands upon his ribs.
Boromir watched in wonder as an amber-tinged light flared there, enveloping his little brother's body. Faramir shuddered a little and then sighed deeply in relief, finally able to draw a full breath without pain. When the Elf at last removed her hands, she slumped forward slightly as if she were ill and Boromir moved toward her, thinking that she might topple from the edge of the bed.
"No." Though said with in a weak voice, the single word was a command, and the warrior obeyed, stopping in his tracks as he watched her recover herself and then replace her gloves. His gaze moved to his brother's face, and his heart melted in relief when he saw Faramir's wan smile directed at him. Boromir sank down onto his knees next to his brother's bed, and the ranger took the warrior's hand in his own, bringing it to his lips, kissing it once.
Faramir then turned his attention to Lachdúliel and spoke to her in the language of the Elves. Boromir didn't know why, but he was greatly concerned by the expression within his brother's eyes as Faramir gazed upon her.
"My lady?" queried Boromir, as he stood up, wondering about the Elf as she nodded but said nothing, obviously suffering some ill effects from providing relief for the ranger. Trembling, she stood slowly and turned toward Boromir, her face a mask of pain.
"I should have. . . ." She took a step toward him, and he barely had time to catch her as she collapsed into his arms.