Author's Note: Hello and welcome to chapter eight of "Wounded". I would like to say thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter, Nari-chan SND, MerryKK, enkemeniel, Awen1923, and Sarahbarr17. Thank you all so much, your comments mean so much to me! As always I do not have a beta and while I have proofread this chapter many times, I am sure I have not caught all my mistakes. Any errors that appear in canon, grammar or spelling are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Tolkien's masterpiece.

Chapter Eight Charmed

It was the tenth day of their stay in Lorien. Or was it the fourteenth? Boromir couldn't decide as he sat beneath the Lady's talan in the gardens. Twilight masked dawn and noon melted into eve. He was unsure of time and place and it worried him.

How long had they been gone from Gondor?

Boromir leaned back upon a small stone pillar and crossed his arms behind his head. The easefulness of the Wood did not seem to trouble his brother. No, Faramir had fallen into a certain routine over the course of their stay. In the mornings he rose and ate what food the servants brought to them. And in the afternoons he went abroad with the Elf, Aniror, to return at dusk with the last light of the sun upon him.

He spoke little now and his eyes were veiled, changed in tone and sight until Boromir did not recognize him.

This place was perilous indeed.

Spring passed swiftly or so it seemed. Little flowers grew amongst the grass and their scent made Boromir weary. He limbs felt heavy along with his head and often he dozed, unaware of the world about him.

Did the magic of the Elves bewitch him? Sometimes he fought against the slumber, standing and pacing across the green glades. This was not his place, his home, drinking wine in thick gardens with soft songs in his ears. No, he should be in Gondor with his people…and so should Faramir.

What had happened to his little brother?

A languid creature Faramir seemed, pale and small and lost in something he could not control. Boromir worried after him and watched the days pass without his company. They must leave the Wood, he decided, but he did not have the heart to tear Faramir away.

But how much longer could they stay? Certainly, he had completed his errand and answered his riddle. Would he not seek to leave?

Boromir thought of Ithilien and the White Tower in the gleam of dawn. The cries and calls of Gondor seemed to fade and they wasted away in Lorien, lost to their kin.

A great flock of birds bustled about a nearby hedge and twittered. Boromir ran his hand over his temples, blocking the sun from his eyes.

"Do you enjoy the gardens?"

Boromir sat up and glanced over his shoulder. The Elf Haldir stood to his right, bow in hand. A long grey cloak fell to his feet and his hair was plaited.

"My lord, I ask your pardon for my interruption," he said and lowered his head slightly.

"No." Boromir grunted as he stood. "You have done no harm, Master Elf. Might I help you?"

"I had hoped," Haldir replied and his eyes swept the small garden. "But now I doubt. Your brother, Faramir, he is not with you?"

Boromir sighed. "He is abroad, again."

"With Aniror?"

"Yes, so I would think and so he says."

"It is foul then." Haldir's face darkened. "In more ways than one, I fear."

"Why?" Boromir tensed and worry tightened his muscles. Haldir leaned upon his longbow and looked around the garden once more.

"I had meant to speak with him, my lord, on that very matter. He goes abroad with Aniror often, yes?"

Boromir nodded. "Every day and he does not return until the sky has darkened."

Haldir was silent for a moment and Boromir wondered after his thoughts.

"Aniror is the sister of my wife," he said at length. "I have known her for many years as her Captain as well. There are many things that I would wish to tell you of her, but my time is short. Listen though and perhaps you will speak with your brother when he returns this night."

Haldir stepped back and seemed to ponder a minute longer before speaking again. "Many of my kin are virtuous beings, brave and gallant and kindly. All speak highly of them and I do not hesitate to praise their names. I say this only so you will not be prejudiced against those who dwell in the Golden Wood. We are a good people and generous in our deeds. Aniror, however, is best to avoid."

"She is cunning and clever and may make the most out of very little. But her kin regard her with suspicion, even her fellow guards. She is ambitious and impulsive, not to be trusted. Many a time her haste and vice have led to cruelty. The Lady was oft compassionate with her, but no more. Aniror has lost her place on the guard due to the harm she caused your brother."

Boromir inhaled. Faramir had said she had taken leave of her duties.

"I know she wishes to regain her position and if her cunning manner is to be trusted, I believe she would use your brother to achieve such. Do you understand what I say, my lord? It is not safe for him, I think, not at all."

"She is treacherous," Boromir growled.

"And dangerous," Haldir said. "Do you know she once loved an Elf named Erthor? He dwells not here, but in Imladris. He, however, was wise enough not return her affection. And I believe Aniror used your brother against Erthor, in her own strange way. She has enchanted him. "

"I knew it from the first," Boromir replied

"The love of an Elf, whether perceived or true, is not easily cast off," Haldir said, his eyes downcast. "I will do what I can, but Aniror is almost beyond my control. Speak with your brother or so I would advise. Caution him if he will listen."

Haldir slung his bow over his shoulders and adjusted the strap of his quiver. "I go to the borders. Perhaps you shall be gone when I return. I hope so, for your sake. Farewell."

Boromir watched as Haldir slipped through a thin archway and left the garden. His pulse throbbed in an unsteady cadence.

A deceiver she was. Did Faramir not see this?

The sharp light of noon had softened into evening and the breeze settled and died. Once more he thought of Minas Tirith and the pale shadows that traced the great white walls.

Faramir must be reasoned with.

Aniror lifted her hand and pointed upwards. "See the moonlight. It comes through the leaves, veiled, but lovely and cherished."

Faramir smiled and stepped closer to her. She was tall, he noticed, taller than the women of Gondor. And fairer.

"Always you speak words of wisdom," he said. Aniror glanced at him and a sly smile curved her lips.

"Common knowledge it is, amongst my kind. Verses of old poems and songs. I am no minstrel."

"What then?" Faramir asked. She turned from him and circled the trunk of a mallorn.

"A warrior, perhaps." Her hands ran over the bark. "A great Captain, I wish."

Faramir followed her, but Aniror quickened her pace. She always did that whenever they walked abroad, he noticed. Always she led and he trailed. Would he be doomed to forever chase her?

Time had passed, how much he could not tell. Lorien did not change. One night became another, one word a passing phrase, one question a faded riddle.

She was rather clever, his Elven lady. When he spoke of certain things she would only laugh and he would forget.

Aniror bewitched him, or so his mind warned. But soon the warnings weakened to whispers and then to silence. His cares fell away as did any other thought.

"Will you walk with me a bit longer?" she asked.

Faramir found he could deny her nothing.

"Yes, if you wish."

"Your brother will not mind?" Her nose wrinkled.

"No." And he knew Boromir wouldn't. His brother had grown quiet, withdrawn but he did not think to worry after him. "Where shall we go?"

Aniror had shown him much of the city and spun tales to go along with their travels. Sometimes they met with other Elves and greetings were exchanged. But mostly she remained with him and spoke with him alone.

Her breathy tones were laced with promises and once more, Faramir believed her.

"Have you seen where I dwell?" Aniror asked. They moved together along a winding lane paved with white stone. White like the walls of Minas Tirith, he thought. The moonlight glanced upon it and made odd patterns through the trees.

"No," he replied. She was walking just in front of him. His hand trembled. Dare he place it on her shoulder? "You have not brought me to your home."

"Then we shall go."

Faramir had passed beneath many a talan perched above in the branches and he knew some of the dwelling of the Lady. Still, he could not imagine the house of an Elf, especially Aniror's.

He followed her to the base of a smaller tree and she gestured at the staircase.

"The climb is long."

"And I am strong and swift."

Aniror laughed. They ascended slowly and often she stopped to point out other sights.

"See that talan? There dwells my sister and her husband, Haldir. You have met him."

"You have a sister?" he asked. She had not spoken of family before.

Aniror nodded. Elves lingered on their balconies. Some lit lanterns and one sat with a harp upon his lap. "Her name is Faeleth and she has a child, a son. He is called Pelilas."

"Why did you not speak of her before?"

Aniror tilted her head to the side and laughed once more. Faramir forgot his question.

"Perhaps you should meet with her. If you like, that it is. She is kindly, if not a bit foolish."

And she moved away and up the stairs. Faramir paused for a moment by the rail and stared at the talan she had pointed out. Through the windows he saw a shadow, nothing more.

Aniror's talan sat on a lower branch. A platform stretched out to meet the staircase. The windows were bare, the curtains pulled away and a single lantern hung above the door. Aniror pushed it open and stepped inside. Faramir followed.

He found himself in a small room with an arched ceiling. A large bench draped in a green cloth stood in the center of the room. Upon one wall was a tapestry, woven of gold, silver and red.

"It was made by my Naneth's hand," Aniror said as she noticed Faramir's gaze upon it. "Before she left these shores. Faeleth wished to have it, but Naneth gifted it to me. I know not why."

"My mother is dead," Faramir said suddenly. Aniror simply nodded.

"I am modest, as you see," she said and he agreed. The room was unadorned. A table, and chairs sat in the center. A cabinet for weapons was pushed to the side. Underneath his boots a small rug cushioned his footfalls.

"Most of my time is spent away, upon the borders or in the Wild. I have no need for charms or trinkets. They are burdensome."

Faramir paced the room. Aniror stayed by the far wall. By the door to the balcony, something caught his eye.

"Do you read?" he asked and knelt by the bookshelf. Heavy tomes were interspaced with small books. He could not make out their titles in the dim light.

"Yes, when I can. And you?"

"When I can,' Faramir replied with a chuckle. "I do not keep books when in Ithilien. It has been a long while." He ran his hand over the binding of one book and pulled it free from the shelf. "This is in the common tongue."

"I had need to learn it," she said.

Faramir gently opened the cover and turned a single page, his eyes dashing along the lines.

"Take it with you." Aniror crossed the room and leaned over him. "I daresay you will have time to read in Lorien."

"Thank you." He rose and smiled, the book clutched to his breast. Aniror had turned her head, her hand resting by her side. Faramir reached for it. His fingertips brushed hers.

She pulled away.

"Your brother must expect you," she said. She glanced at the door. "I have kept you long."

Why this sudden urgency? Aniror was moving across the room once more and Faramir felt forced to follow her.

"Will you come and meet me again tomorrow?" he asked. She ushered him over the threshold.

"Yes, yes I will."

The door closed and Faramir took a surprised step back.

He had been too bold. Curse it all.

Aniror leaned against the door and grunted. Two weeks she had spent in the man's company. The time pressed upon her, worried her and she began to wish for the end of it all.

Of course she had charmed him. That came easy enough. She had separated him from his troublesome brother as well. That had taken more skill. And now she had left him hints regarding her true desire, a captaincy.

After two weeks he seemed heedless. The man was simple, she decided. That and nothing more. He did not appear half so lordly or gallant beneath the leaves of Lorien, when Ithilien's light had passed from his eyes.

She could not take this madness.

Aniror moved through the main room out onto the balcony. No breezes stirred Caras Galadhon this night and the air was warm. A clear sky shone with stars.

She remembered nights like these, not so long ago, when she had been more content with her life. Days of folly they were and sheer naivety, when she believed in unspoken words and hope.

No more.

The scar on her arm ached as it always did when she thought of old memories. Below, Aniror saw Faramir pass beneath the tree and hurry along the narrow path. He was smiling.

Perhaps it would not be much longer now.

Author's Note: Poor Faramir. At least his enchantment will only last another chapter or two.

Thanks so much for reading! Please, take the time to review and share your thoughts with me. All comments are greatly appreciated.