Disclaimer: I do not own anything that belongs to Tolkien's estate. I do own the Sea Hawk/Lady Eirien, and would like to be asked if you want to use her in a story. Evendim, however, has permanent permission to use any of my characters that she would like to in any story she wishes to write. Cerris, Ancir, and a few others belong to Evendim and you should ask her before you use them. Thanks, ED!

Author's note: This story takes place a few weeks after the events in The Sea Hawk, which is set in Evendim's wonderful AU. I recommend that you read her stories and then the Sea Hawk before you tackle this one. It'll save time and answer a lot of the most commonly asked questions, like how Boromir survived Amon Hen. LOL

Dedications: To Evendim, who created this wonderful AU where Boromir didn't get the short end of the stick and who has graciously allowed me to play in her playground. You go, girl! Love your stuff, always! And to my darling AJ, without whom I would never have had the courage to post even one chapter of any of my stories. Love you, babe, don't ever change. J

Chapter Six: Visitation

Boromir lay propped up in his bed, still rather weak but he would never admit it. He had finally been allowed visitors, however, which served to break up the tedium a bit.

On this particular afternoon, though, he was less than content. "I am more than ready to get some air, little brother, and I am sick of being told that I must rest. I must get out of this bed before I go completely mad!"

Faramir laughed softly, but held his resolve steady. "Dalos has already threatened me with dire harm if I allow you to rise, Boro-mine, and I wish to keep myself in one piece. Perhaps tomorrow." He was purposefully keeping his knowledge of Eirien's impending nuptials to himself.

"Tomorrow my eye. Where is that blasted healer anyway? Bring him here, I wish to have him explain why I am to be confined like a wayward child!"

"Because, Borion-nin, you have been dreadfully ill and we wish you to remain with us for a time yet!" Thranduil's voice was indulgent, but the undisguised relief in his eyes told a far different story. "Dalos has far bigger things to see to at this moment than a patient who is well on his way to recovery!" The Elven King swept a bow to Faramir and took a seat on the other side of the bed. "You should rest, my son, and have a care not to cause a relapse. Please, a little patience would save much grief. If not for yourself, then do it for me. Or must I lose another son?"

"I could deny you nothing, you old Balrog," Boromir replied. He was more than touched by the concern his second father was revealing. "I suppose I must rest, then. But resting does not preclude conversation, does it?" he quipped with a grin.

"Of course it doesn't," Faramir replied, relief in his own eyes. He had almost despaired of getting Boromir to listen to reason. "So, what shall we talk about?"

"How about why Eirien has not been to visit?"

Faramir looked over to Thranduil, carefully schooling his expression. This was going to be tricky. Boromir had declared vehemently and repeatedly that there was no more between them than friendship. If that was the case, then why did he seem quite put out that she was nowhere in evidence?

Thranduil sought to ease the way, for which Faramir was immensely grateful. "Perhaps she hasn't been told that you are well on your way to recovery? After all, Borion, you were so wretchedly ill that we thought you lost to us." Thranduil pushed the thought away as quickly as it took substance. It had not happened, and indeed, would not happen until Boromir was much older. Not so long as one flirtatious Elven Monarch had any say in the matter!

Boromir looked to his brother for confirmation and grew thoughtful. He had not, until that very moment, realized just how ill he had been. Oh, he had listened impatiently while Dalos explained about the fever, and he had experienced the mind-numbing pain it had caused, but it had not truly struck him that he had been quite so close to death.

"I hadn't realized. Forgive me, both of you, I had not meant to distress you so." Boromir turned his gaze to the window. "If you wouldn't mind, would one of you fetch her? I would have her see me still breathing. She worries so with those she has 'adopted.'" He turned back to his visitors, his smile a little wistful.

"Of course." Faramir managed to keep his voice even and sound unconcerned, but it was a close thing. "Lord Thranduil, a moment, please, and then I shall go in search of your friend, Boro-mine. Rest, please. Your father will be back in shortly." He gestured for the Elf to precede him and closed the door firmly between them and Boromir.

"He does not know. Dalos has asked that he be kept undisturbed, in order for him to rest easy and heal properly. He is fretful over Eirien, though, and how shall we conceal that?"

Thranduil placed a hand on Faramir's shoulder. "We must do what is best for your brother and my son, Medlin." Use of the nickname had become second nature to the Elf, and he delighted in watching Faramir's discomfiture when it was employed. "I will soothe him, and perhaps convince him to take tea with me. Then he will sleep while I watch over him. He would be resting, true?"

There was a sparkle in Thranduil's eye that reassured Faramir far more than his words. The Elf was truly taken with Boromir, had formally adopted him, and would see no harm come to him. Still it seemed a bit deceitful. "Must we drug him senseless to make him rest?" The question seemed a bit ridiculous after he'd asked it. Boromir had no sense, when it came to caring for himself. Given his way, he would be up and back in harness too quickly and likely cause a relapse. "My apologies, my lord, 'twould seem you know him best," he laughed softly.

"Never will I take your place in his heart, though, Fara-mir," Thranduil said comfortingly. "Now go, before Borion begins to wonder what we are discussing out of his hearing."

TBC