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.

Again, I would like to thank my reviewers individually; but has decided in their wisdom that such a thing just isn't done… so please, if you review, leave an address I can get back to you! Or you are more than welcome to email me directly at Thanks a bunch!

This chapter specifically dedicated to Dread Lady Freya, who taught me that it's okay to "squeeeeeeeeeee" occasionally.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Tanathel shaded her eyes against the sun as she watched the rider come down the track toward the farm. Visitors weren't usually the norm; she'd been here long enough now to know. Corvin's parents were quite happy to have another adult around the place, truth to tell; Declan, while not in the baby-talk stage, was still young enough to give his mother fits when he thought he could get away with it. Having Tanathel there seemed to put a curb on his more explosive outbursts of temper, as though he wanted to impress her with his manners.

She moved forward as the rider neared the house and recognized him as one of the messengers on the run to Henneth Annun. "Ingold, this is a bit off your path, isn't it?" she asked pointedly. She was starving for news from the City, but didn't want to seem needy. Bollocks, it really didn't matter. They'd served together; he'd know anyway. She gave him a grin. "I don't suppose you've a moment to pass in conversation?"

"I do, and you can have it the moment my horse has drunk a bit." He led the mare forward to the trough, holding her reins lightly while she drank and taking the mug Tanathel offered him gratefully. He then nodded to Eleca and Gorlin, who had come from the house at his approach. "My thanks for the hospitality," he said carefully. "Got your letter from the boy right here. And Tanathel, I've a message for you as well." He handed both of the parchments over, noting the surprise with which Tanathel greeted her letter. "Now, I've got to be moving on. I'll stop in on the way back through, like always. I'll pick up messages then." He swung aboard his mount and gave them a nod of thanks and moved swiftly back onto the track to the fortress.

"We'll keep the boy busy for a time, m'lady," Eleca said with a knowing grin. She had been asked, time and again, not to address Tanathel as "m'lady," but it seemed a hopeless task to stop her and Tanathel had all but given up. "He's got the horses to feed before supper, anyway. You go on, enjoy your letter."

Tanathel gave the woman a distracted grin and moved over to the fence, climbing to sit on the top rail as she noted the seal. Boromir's seal! It was about time the oaf had written her! Three weeks she'd been here without word.

Carefully she broke the seal and began to read.

Tanathel,

Forgive me for not writing sooner. I believe I told you once, I am not a man of letters. It is difficult for me to set quill to parchment without it dealing with battle plans or troop movements. But for you, I will gladly make an exception.

Aragorn's anger with you has not cooled, though he continues to recover, just not at the rate Calas would like to see. He believes there may yet be some darkness at work which keeps the King weakened. He is, of course, quite unable to treat a malady that gives no clue to its cause, and it disturbs him greatly to see suffering and not be able to alleviate it.

Faramir, also, is on the mend. Thank the Valar for that. Eowyn has brought the children to the Citadel while Faramir heals, and while it seems impossible to my mind, they have proved they are quite capable of stirring up as much trouble between them as Fara and I ever did as boys. Elboron is mostly quiet, bookish, like his father. The twins, however, more than make up for their brother's studious ways. Freya and Frela are every bit as headstrong and independent as their mother. They are also determined, even at such a young age, that they should become just like Eowyn and learn the way of the sword. So far, Eowyn has been able to keep them from the sharpened blades, but it seems to be a contest now as to who will outsmart who. Eowyn is ready to strangle them both. (I offered once to assist her and she did not find it at all amusing, though the girls did.)

As I sit here, now, and write this letter to you, I feel a great emptiness where you should be. Since you first showed your true mettle to me, in the tunnels beneath the Citadel, you have been at my side, or close enough to call. You have stood by me in battle, and you have given me welcome counsel when asked. But it is more than that.

There is an emptiness about my days, a dimming of the light, a lessening of the joy of living I have too long taken for granted, and it is all due to your presence in my life. When you are near, it seems my day is brighter, my life fuller, my joy greater than ever I thought it could be. I long for the day you may return to the City... and to me.

Boromir

Tanathel considered the letter, her own heart beating with joy at his words to her. Slowly, the rest of the news penetrated her star-struck mind and she reluctantly set aside the personal portion of the missive for the moment. His first words to her had been dutiful, and she would consider what she might do to help him.

Aragorn was still furious at her. Well, she hadn't really expected anything less. Her words to him had been more than simply hurtful. They had been insulting, arrogant, and as sharp as daggers to a heart already wracked with pain and grief. She would hardly blame him if he never forgave her for them. But more darkness in the Citadel? They had thought the problem ended with Grima's capture. What other vile creature or spawn of Udun's pits could possibly be concealed there? She would give it thought.

So Faramir's little darlings wanted to learn sword-play, did they? Give them to her for a week and they would most likely never wish to go near a blade again, much less use one. Her father had been a harsh taskmaster and she had learned from it. So, too, would she teach her own children, if she were blessed with any.

Enough wool-gathering; Boromir had set her a knotty problem to think through and she would give him her thoughts on the subject. And, of course, an answer to his most dearly treasured words to her.

Boromir scanned through the messages and dutifully set aside the one from Tanathel until he had finished working his way through all the reports he had been given. Troop movements, supply lists, requests for leave, all things that must be dealt with in a timely fashion for an army to run well. Only then would he allow himself to read over her letter.

Boromir,

I am no more a scribe than you are, but like you, I will try. And do not think unkindly of Aragorn for his anger. Truly, I expect nothing less from a man who has had all he ever held dear in his life taken from him by the darkness. My words were thoughtless and uncompromisingly cruel.

Tell Calas I have every confidence that he will find the cause and cure this evil that has beset our King.

On that subject, could Grima have had some secondary lair to practice his wizardry in? Or is there some way he could still be practicing his dark art from the dungeon? He must be ungagged to eat, unless you have kept him without food or water and I do not think you so cruel as that, not even to the Worm.

I am also pleased to hear your brother is healing well. It seems he will need all his strength to deal with the twins.

Your words touched me deeply. I, too, feel empty and alone when faced with my days without you. I find myself thinking of you at odd moments, feeling the touch of your hand upon mine, of the way you held me close when I was deep in despair. Of your tender concern for my safety while we were both in the South, the touch of your fingers against my face, even so small a cut as it was, still you noticed.

I must confess to you, my heart withered inside me when I looked back and saw the great burning of the garrison. I thought surely you had perished, that all of the men there had died but in truth it was your loss that grieved me most. For the first time, I thought of what it would mean to me before I thought of the loss to Gondor's army. And the sight of you, riding so openly and so obviously unharmed on your return, made my heart soar.

I, too, long for the day I may return to the City, and to you.

Tanathel

He allowed himself to bask in the warmth of her words for only a moment. She had only confirmed what he had suspected, that perhaps Grima was still affecting Aragorn's health. He had ordered the entire City searched, door to door, not one cupboard was left unsearched nor a stone unturned, and yet Aragorn grew no stronger. What had they missed?

He was reluctant to usurp Aragorn's position, nor Faramir's, but something must be done. He was in the dubious position of being the only one of the three who was fit to take command of the City, and totally unwilling to do so. He took a deep breath. He had been ordering things for days; this was simply another step, and the chain of command could not be broken.

But he would not take that step, not lightly. It was one thing to sign petitions, to promise to look into things, to render judgments upon petty squabbles among the populace. It was quite another to consider bringing a man to trial for treason and witchcraft. Grima must have a fair trial, and Boromir was not entirely certain there were enough objective souls in the City to grant him one. Certainly he had made up his own mind. The Worm had tried to murder Aragorn, he had seen it with his own eyes, so as a judge he was clearly too biased to be trusted.

He thought perhaps a visit to his King might help him decide what to do. If only Aragorn were strong enough to return to the throne...

"Your Highness, I must protest!" Calas' voice was raised in dismay as Boromir neared the King's Apartments. "You've not enough strength yet to attempt this. You barely rose from your bed this morning, please, I beg you. Continue to rest until you are healed, or you will be summoning the embalmers instead of me!"

Boromir paused with his hand upraised to knock upon the panel, choosing instead to hear the end of this argument before interrupting. If Aragorn was in any way able to hold his own against the healer, Boromir would gladly return the entire mess into his waiting arms.

"Leave me be, Calas, I am well able to judge my own fitness." The words sounded strong enough. "I am a healer in my own right, as you have been reminded before, and it is past time that I should attempt to heal myself. This malady was not of my own making; but it will control me no longer. I will not allow it."

Boromir heard steps approaching the doorway and rapped quickly, announcing his presence. Aragorn in a mood was not his first choice of things to face this day. On the other hand, it meant he could possibly be rid of this thorny situation with Grima.

"Come!" Aragorn's voice had lost the hesitancy it had contained for the past few weeks and he stood tall and proud as Boromir entered and went to one knee before him. Aragorn quickly drew him up, searching his face and apparently appeased by what he saw there. "Mae govannen, Boromir. Report."

Boromir did so immediately, noting the air of suppressed energy about his King, though he made no comment upon it. It was enough to see him no longer appearing frail and wan upon the coverlet of his bed. This, this was the man he had come to respect and love as his brother, his King.

He finished his report and stood silent, watching Aragorn ponder the news, which he had not stinted on. He watched as his King paced a moment in silence and then turned back to face him. Calas' presence had been dismissed by the King, and he departed in a huff, murmuring dire warnings under his breath until the distance grew too great to carry them to waiting ears.

Aragorn appeared lost in thought for a moment and then straightened. "Grima cannot be trusted as an exile. He wields far too much power, power that we never dreamed he could possess. He must be dealt with, and quickly, before he brings that power to bear once more." His eyes darkened with remembered sorrow and pain, and the Evenstar's light brightened perceptibly. "I could not long withstand another attempt, Boromir."

Boromir shook his head. "Of course not. But you must not overreach your strength, either! If you begin to tire, you must rest. That is the only condition I have of you, my friend."

"Then I promise to behave myself," Aragorn returned, his voice wry. "I wish to bring Grima to justice immediately; yet there must be no doubt that he deserves his fate. And there are other fates to be decided than Grima's." His step never paused as he began the walk to the Council Chamber. "Have Tanathel returned immediately. She and I have much to discuss, as well." There was a hard, brittle light in his eyes when he spoke of her, and Boromir covered a small start of dismay.

So, Aragorn's wrath had yet to cool on the subject of Tanathel. Regrettable; but perhaps still salvageable. "You are still angry with her, then," Boromir asked quietly as he fell into step with his King. "I do not know what has passed between you; but I know that it was meant to help and not harm."

"We will not discuss her until such time as I am ready to address her, Boromir. Bring her to the Council Chamber as soon as possible."

TBC