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 Eight: Discoveries

"Puss, you've been quiet for days. What is troubling you? I've had more lively company from the mice running across my bed in the dead of night." Boromir was bored, and so even more observant that usual. And when Boromir was bored, things got lively. "I'd like to know what is happening outside my chamber, if you don't mind, and don't hide behind Dalos' robes any longer. Speak, or I shall tickle you unmercifully. I am going mad from the boredom!"

Faramir sighed heavily. So, this was the moment of truth. He had known he could not hide it from his brother forever, but he had hoped it would not be discovered so quickly.

"Boro-mine…" He took another deep breath. "It involves Eirien," he murmured.

Boromir's face betrayed no emotion, but his eyes spoke volumes. "I had wondered why she had not come to me," he said softly. "What is it? Has the wench been jailed again?"

"I am afraid it is more than that, brother," Faramir replied steadily. Now that the moment was come, he could no more withhold the information from Boromir than he could stop breathing. "Eirien is in no distress, fret not about that. She has been quite busy of late." He was trying to find a tactful way to say it, and there simply wasn't one. "She has been preparing for her wedding, and she would like you to come dance at it."

Faramir watched his brother carefully, prepared to summon aid quickly if necessary. Dalos had been so adamant about not distressing his patient…

Boromir felt as if the world had stopped. He couldn't summon enough strength to draw breath; it felt as though he had been run through and there was a curious numbness where his heart should be. "W-wedding?" he finally managed to whisper. "But---"

"No buts, sweet brother. She and Cerris of Lossarnach are to be wed by week's end. And she wishes you to attend and wish her well." The words were like ashes in his mouth, but he would respect Eirien's wishes and help to make the break clean. He was miserable at having to cause Boromir such pain, but he saw no alternative. This must be done, it was their King's express wish that it be carried through. It was for the good of Gondor, even if Boromir was not to be told the entire story.

Boromir held back his distress masterfully, merely nodding to his brother. He stood, carefully, and made his way to the open window, stepping out onto the terrace to rest his hands on the rail.

All his life, he had served Gondor. All his life, he had waited for someone to ease the bitter loneliness his service had brought him to. All his life, he had clung to hope that there was more to life than duty.

All those hopes were ashes now. He had lost Eirien, he had lost the use of his good right arm, he had lost everything. Everything save his brother and his duty. Even the thought of Thranduil's love did not console him now.

"My compliments to the lady, and to Lord Cerris, and I would be pleased to attend," he told Faramir purposefully. "And convey to Lord Dalos that I shall be returning to my duties as of the morrow. I am healed enough to serve my king as I always will. I am no longer in need of his services unless he wishes to continue the work with my arm. The choice is his."

Faramir stiffened at the resolve in Boromir's voice. He knew his brother was hurting, and he knew that much of the hurt had been delivered by his own hand. But he had no idea how to soften the blow, nor even if he should. Boromir would recover, given time. He always had, but this… this was a far more brutal blow than any he'd ever sustained.

He had Meril in his life, his little Rosie, of course, but would she be enough? All he could do was wait, and watch, and hope. Hope that his daughter would be enough to keep Boromir from the abyss.