"You do not mean to keep me in a cave with women and children and old, useless men when there is a battle to be fought!"
Aragorn sat down on the edge of his bed with a frown. "I don't have time to argue about this."
"Then get me my sword and be done with it!" Boromir answered in a snarl, sitting up and pushing the sheet off of his legs. "No son of Denethor's is going to sit by and let a war go on around him. "
"We are not in Gondor now, Boromir. Save your strength for when we come to that land."
Boromir looked at him grimly, meeting his gaze with even eyes. "I will not. Do you think the rumors have escaped this house? You are arming boys, old men. Farmers, fat old drunks. You don't have the luxury to choose your army, and you know that my sword isn't a loss you can afford to bear."
Aragorn frowned, but slowly he nodded. "It would be hard. But I would rather suffer that loss than the loss of you to weakness and wounds."
"I have not succumbed so far. I feel stronger now after a half-day's rest than before we set out on that great chase across the plains. Have faith in me, Aragorn. I know that once I have let you down. I will not do it again."
Aragorn's expression softened, and he reached to clasp Boromir's hand for a moment. "It is not out of distrust or doubt of you that I wish to keep you safe. "
Boromir nodded at that. "I'm glad to know it."
He drew in a breath, then stood. "I will find raiment for you. Your sword lies with your back beside your bed."
Boromir sank back against the wall and relaxed at that, letting Aragorn leave.