Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or settings used in this fic; they belong to JRR Tolkien and New Line Cinema, and we should all praise them with great praise for creating a wonderful world for us to play in.

Dedications: To Ithil-valon, for tireless beta-reading and endless brainstorming. You are wonderful, mellon-nin, and never forget it. I owe you a LOT. Also for Evendim, who first gave me hope that my writing in this fandom wasn't totally horrible, and gave me enormous delight with her own AU series. Thank you, and thank you for gracious permission to play in your playground. And last, but not least, to my darling AJ, without whom my writing would never have seen the light of day. You give me courage, hon, and I love you for it.

Author's Notes: THIS STORY IS SET IN AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. That means that some facts, features, and faces will differ slightly from canon. This story is the second in hopefully a long series, beginning with "Revolution and Retribution." You don't necessarily need to read that one to understand this, but it will help enormously.

To All My Dedicated Reviewers: Thank you so much for making "Revolution and Retribution" so much fun to write! I hope you will all enjoy this tale as well.

Chapter Five

Tanathel still tossed restlessly as Boromir and Aragorn re-entered the room, and Calas was just finishing his preparations. The iron was in the fire, beginning to glow from the heat. "If this is to be done, it's best done quickly," he explained. "Lord Boromir, if you would restrain her shoulders and arms, Your Highness, I will need you to steady her legs. This will not be pleasant for any of us; but if she moves, I could do more harm than good." He gave a nod to show he was ready and lifted the iron from the fire and moved to stand next to the bed.

Boromir nodded and captured her hands in one of his, then leaned across her shoulders, putting his weight across her to hold her in place and pinning her hands between them. Aragorn did likewise, lying across her lower legs, keeping them locked in place.

The iron touched her flesh and Tanathel gave a ragged scream, trying to lurch away from the searing pain, only to find herself unable to move for the grip the men had on her. A smell of charred flesh rose and Boromir swallowed against a rush of nausea. Tanathel continued to cry out, and Boromir had to force himself not to give in and allow her to move, though the anguish in her voice tore at him. "Tanathel, hush, it's almost over, try to lie still, it won't be much longer, I promise," he found himself almost crooning. He managed to free one hand to place on her brow while keeping most of his weight still pinning her. He stroked at her hair, much as he had with Faramir when his brother was a youngster. "Not long, not long, see, it's done, it's all done, you can rest now, settle down, now, and rest."

Aragorn stifled his response to a tender Boromir, preferring to remain in one piece. So, that was the way the wind blew, was it? He would have to discreetly help this along. Never had he heard such a gentle tone from the man, not even in the presence of frightened Hobbits. He permitted himself a mental smile; most likely, Boromir had no idea how deeply this woman had already touched him.

Calas straightened as Tanathel subsided with an occasional whimper. "The wound is neatly cauterized, my lords. There are some things now that we should address, before she wakes." He handed the small pots of salve to Aragorn with a frown. "No healer of mine would have given her these, nor neglected to tend the wound properly. Those salves you hold are merely for treating dry skin and have no medicinal value whatsoever." He gave Aragorn a direct gaze, his gray eyes troubled. "Who would do such a thing?"

"Someone who knew no better, or someone with an interest in harming her," Aragorn spoke up determinedly. "Whatever the reason, he cannot be allowed to continue. The next time, he might kill someone."

Tanathel slowly forced herself to wakefulness, a dull, throbbing ache in her leg replacing the agony of before. She cast a quick glance at the limb, making certain it was still with her, and forced a weak whisper from her throat. "Sir?"

Boromir smiled and patted her hand reassuringly. "Welcome back, Lieutenant," he said softly. "Be still. Calas can tell you about your injury."

Tanathel nodded carefully, barely able to complete the motion for the leadenness of her body. What had they given her? She felt as limp as a wet rag, and not nearly as strong.

Calas came forward then, his smile broad. "It is good to see you awake, young lady, and not with the glow of fever about you," he began in a kindly voice. "I myself will be assuming responsibility for you, Lieutenant, at Lord Boromir's insistence. I am his favorite physician, you see." Laugh lines crinkled around his eyes as he checked the wound again. "You should be back to full strength before long, with little trace of a limp. But you must follow my directions exactly, lest the muscles betray you at the wrong moment. Exercise, and a lot of it. Not that you'll be lacking in that aspect. Use the limb as much as possible. And this salve will do what the others should have. It will keep the skin supple and prevent the scarring from immobilizing the limb; it also contains wintergreen to dull pain and arnica for the swelling, so use it sparingly. Four times a day, no more than that."

She nodded her agreement, wondering why Boromir was still there. Surely he had duties to attend; after all, he was the Captain-General of Gondor's army.

Boromir settled back by her side, his expression stern. "There are other things we need to speak of, Tanathel," he stated firmly. "Healer Calas tells me your wound was not treated properly at the outset, and that the salves you were using contained the wrong herbs to be of any use, indeed, that they might have worsened the infection." He took her hand in his again, a seemingly unconscious gesture. "We need to know who gave you the herbs, who tended your wound the first time. Can you tell us anything about him?"

That explained Boromir's presence. She was answerable directly to him; he had a vested interest in finding the truth of the matter. She moved her head slightly and saw Aragorn nearby, listening intently. Then her attention moved back to Boromir, and the gentle way he held her hand. "I only saw him for a moment," she murmured. "He cleaned the wound and bandaged it, and then gave me the salves. He said there was nothing more to be done." She closed her eyes against remembered despair. "He said that if I used the salves, I might retain some use of the leg, but not enough to fight."

Remembered despair welled up inside her and she squashed it ruthlessly. Boromir trusted this man, and he had said she would recover. Relief made her almost giddy. "He was a tall man, almost as tall as you, sire," she said absently as she strove to remember details that had been made hazy from pain. "His hair was dark, almost as dark as mine. Other than that, I could not say." She shrugged absently. "I was somewhat preoccupied at the time."

Boromir reached out absently and tucked back a wayward strand of her hair. "We will find him, Tanathel. Rest easy."

Aragorn nodded in agreement. "We must find this man. In the meantime, Tanathel, I require a promise from you. There will be no more of this foolishness when it comes to injury or illness. If the Healers wish you to attend them, you will. Is this clear?" His tone was light, but still conveyed his displeasure. She could have died from her stubborn refusal to see them sooner, and he needed all his warriors in one piece.

Tanathel took one look at the determined King and slowly nodded. "Yes, sir," she replied in a subdued voice.

Boromir turned her face to him. "I will add my orders to that one," he said simply. "You will come to Calas when you are need of healing. I trust him implicitly. He will tell you true and do all he can to keep you in one piece."

"Yes, sir." Tanathel was suitably contrite.

"Good. Now, my lords, I would have you depart. The lieutenant needs to rest. You may attend her later." Calas shooed them out and smiled for Tanathel. "I will be close by, my lady, if you have need of me. Rest, now, and regain your strength."