A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys! I hope that ya'll enjoy this chapter! And now to the reviews...

Reviews:

To Cindy: Only 3 of LOTR fics are Boromir fics! The golden Gondorian certainly does deserve better! Thanks for the review :D

To Lothiriel: Hey, mabye she can...Thanks for reviewing :)

To Windstar: Yes, I will continue; thanks for taking the time to review!

000

Boromir had been taken to a room in the houses of healing, and as Norah entered to see him, a healer stopped her.

"You cannot enter, Norah, they are trying to close his wounds."

"Please, you must let me enter," Norah pleaded. "I am very skilled in healing; I know that I could help him, please."

The man seemed to think on it for a moment, and then he snapped back to reality. "Very well, you may enter—but I warn you that it is not a pretty sight."

"Thank you for warning me, but I have had my share of gruesome sights," said Norah, before entering the room.

When she entered, it appeared that the healers were searing his wounds closed; that was a sight that Norah had not often seen.

The room was dark, for they had ordered the servants to shut the shutters on the windows. Norah could see a lot of blood on the bed, she couldn't imagine what would happen if Boromir regained consciousness during the painful procedure.

Finally, when they had completed the searing, one of the healers looked up and saw Norah.

"Who let you in?" the man asked sharply.

"Peter," Norah answered. "I know some things about healing that they do not teach here in Gondor; I know that I could help him."

"The healers talked amongst themselves for a moment, and then a healer spoke. "His situation is worsening; we have been able to seal his wounds but that does not mean that he is better; if you have knowledge of healing that we do not, then we would be glad to have your assistance."

000

As the soldier stood before Denethor and Gelidir, he could barely speak for he was grieved that his Captain had been wounded.

"Speak!" Denethor snapped; for the soldier had been just standing there for about three minutes, and he had not said a word.

"My lord…it is about Captain Boromir," he said, putting his head down.

Denethor swallowed hard, as he tried not to expect the worst. "Continue," he ordered.

"Our journey halted when we came across Orcs: we fought them and left none alive, but many of my fellow soldiers were wounded—including lord Boromir."

Denethor's face turned deathly pale; he could not believe what he was hearing: the very thing that he had feared had come to pass.

"He is not dead my lord, but his condition is very bad: he is currently in the houses of healing, but I-"

Seeing the look on Denethor's face, Gelidir felt that is was his place to stop the soldier from saying anything else that might add to the devastation.

"Thank you for informing lord Denethor of this tragedy; you may leave now."

Denethor made no objection to Gelidir's order.

To Gelidir, Denethor seemed to be just an empty shell sitting in the chair of the Stewards…just an empty shell.

000

"Stay with me Aranel," said the blond elf.

He had been able to bind Aranel's wounds, but he knew that that was not enough, every time his eyes looked to the blood soaked ground, he began to lose hope; it seemed as though help was thousands of leagues away, but he would not give up, he was the Prince of Mirkwood and he would always find a way.

000

Theodred had journeyed as far as East Emnet when he stopped to rest; the journey to Mirkwood was definitely not easy, but he loved his cousin dearly and would do anything for her.

He was determined to find her and help her…even if it resulted in his own death. He wondered how Eomer was doing back in the White City; he hoped that he had been able to either deter or slow down their search for Eowyn and Arial, little did he know that Eowyn was the least of their worries.

000

The healers had left a long time ago, but Norah had stayed and had sat in a chair at the side of Boromir's bed; she had examined his wounds and had used a combination of herbs on the wounds so that he would not feel so much pain when he awakened.

She got up and began to slightly pace the dimly lit room; she hoped that he would wake up, for if he didn't she did not know what she would do.

Yes, that sounded strange coming from a woman who had only met the man a few times, all of which had been brief, but she felt pity for him, and she knew that he was not the man that Eowyn had at first made him out to be; as she dwelt on these thoughts, she failed to see that the Captain of Gondor had awakened.

He could make out a woman standing but the closed windows, but he could not tell who she was, for her back was turned, and the room seemed to be getting darker due to the fact that the last candle had all but burnt out.

"Could it be?" he thought to him—if it was who he thought it was, then what a surprise that would be!

"My lady Eowyn? Is it really you?" he asked, in what sounded like a whisper.

The woman turned around to face him. "My lord!" she exclaimed. "You are awake—you are alive!"

She ran over to the side of his bed, and now he could clearly see that he was not looking into the eyes of lady Eowyn, instead he was looking into the eyes of her maiden, Norah.

Now he could slightly feel it: the pain of his wounds. Due to the fact that Norah had used a special concoction, he did not feel as much pain as he would have-but he still felt pain. It was mainly coming from his left shoulder, and his side.

Norah could tell by the look on his face that he was still in some kind of pain; "You were wounded by an Orc-blade and arrow, my lord. I mixed up some herbs and applied them to your wounds so that you would not feel so much pain, but you must rest if you are to get completely better."

There was a momentary silence as they held each others gaze; finally, Norah broke the slightly uncomfortable silence.

"I will leave now my lord, and let you rest," she said, getting ready to head for the door. But Boromir stopped her.

"Norah, don't go."

000

After he had eaten the hard, stale bread and drank the warm water, an elf came and led him out of the tent.

The sun was shining brightly as Faramir stood by a tree; his thoughts began to drift back to the Elven woman, Tatiana. He found himself drawn to the beautiful Elven-woman, not just because of the fact that she was beautiful, but because of the hard life that she had lived so far, and still through it all she was not evil like the majority of the shadow elves.

Is that all that he felt for her? Or did he feel something deeper?

That was what he had continued to ask himself, and as he began to think on that, he knew deep down what the answer was: Yes, he felt something more for the Elven-woman. But how much deeper were his feelings? And what consequences would he face if his true feelings were discovered?

Death.

Oh yes, death was certain; but there was also something else: did she feel the same way?

It was hard for him to tell, for sometimes she would hardly ever look him in the eye. Just then, he spotted her close by, but she was not alone; the cruel elf Jaylyn was with her.

00-00-00

"I know what you are doing, Tatiana; you are trying to drive me mad," said Jaylyn.

"I thought that you had already gone mad," Tatiana said sarcastically.

"You know how much I hate those swine of the West, yet you continue to go near him!"

"I care not what you think, for I do not live to please you," Tatiana said sharply.

"But you will learn to," he snapped.

"I will never please you-I do not fear you and your threats do not intimidate me."

"He does not seem like your type-I thought that you preferred blond-"

Tatiana swiftly slapped him across his face, stopping him from completing his sentence.

Jaylyn was furious now; he smote her across the face with such force that she almost staggered.

This was too much for Faramir; he had not heard the conversation but he had clearly seen what had happened. Gathering all of the strength that he could muster, he ran over to the elf, knocking him to the ground, and began to punch him ferociously.

000

"This cannot be true," said Denethor, who still seemed to be in a state of shock.

Gelidir did not know what to say, for although he had a family in Lossarnach, he had never lost one of his children-as a matter of fact, he had never even come close to losing one of his children.

"I am sure that he will be alright my lord; lord Boromir is a fighter at heart-he will get through this," Gelidir said, trying to reassure the Steward the best way that he could.

Denethor did not know how he would go on if he lost his first-born. Boromir had always been a joy to him…especially when lady Finduilas died.

"I must go and see my son," said Denethor, getting up from the chair of the Stewards.

"Are…are you sure my lord?" Gelidir asked.

"Yes; I must see him now."