By midmorning the following day Boromir was struggling to ignore his exhaustion. Sedryn had been swimming in and out of consciousness, but was now absolutely limp and freakishly pale in his arms, and he had been strengthening her through the mind-clasp since she had been injured. They had made good time but Boromir knew he wouldn't be able to go much longer without some sort of respite, at least for a meal. He had just decided to stop and eat when far ahead he saw a group of flaxen-haired horsemen, Rohirrim, far ahead, kicking up dust as they galloped onward.

Hope flared in Boromir's heart. "Onward, Braveheart!" he said, spurring his horse onward, his lunch forgotten.

Eomer of Rohan watched as the horses cantered closer. Soon they neared enough for Eomer to see that one horse was carrying two riders; a tired-looking man holding an unconscious woman before him in the saddle. Although the woman was swathed in blankets Eomer saw that one of her legs was bare, and old blood had congealed at the edges of the cloth; cloaks, he corrected when he saw the clasps. Both of them wore the insignia of Gondor.

"Rohirrim!" the man bellowed, and despite his weariness his voice carried splendidly across the distance. Checked, Eomer stopped his horse.

Was that really Boromir of Gondor? It had been years since Boromir had come to Rohan but that voice was unmistakable. Eomer galloped forward.

Suddenly he saw that it was indeed Boromir. "My Lord!" Eomer hailed.

Boromir felt a foolish grin on his face. It was Eomer, Second Fieldmarshal to Theoden King of Rohan. They were safe.

"Fieldmarshal!" Boromir answered. "We were ambushed last night by a horde of Orcs southward across the plains, at an abandoned cabin. My wife was wounded." He said as they came nearer to each other.

Eomer nodded. "Theorwael!" he called back to his group, and the horsemen nudged their horses aside to form a path for the formidable Theorwael, the healer who traveled with Eomer's eored. To Boromir he said, "We've been on the search for them since yestereve, when we received news. How many are there?" he asked.

"Thirty?" Boromir estimated. "They may be less after we finished with them."

Again, Eomer nodded. "Is she badly hurt?"

"Moderately." Boromir answered. "But she's lost a lot of blood, and I think the wound needs stitching. I did not dare to stop throughout the night."

"Very well." Eomer said. He pointed his head toward Theorwael. "He can tend to her; he is our healer." Eomer called out the names of five more men. "Make camp here and we will meet you back here by tomorrow night. We will speak more then." Eomer said.

Boromir nodded. "May I offer my services?" he asked, although he was tired and wanted to stay with Sedryn.

Eomer took a good look at the man and shook his head. "Your strength is legendary, Lord Boromir, but you are obviously weary and your lady is hurt. There will be more opportunities later. We must go."

Boromir nodded.

"Rohirrim!" Eomer called. "Move out!"

Once the thunder of the hooves had faded Theorwael turned to Boromir and took Sedryn from him. "I'm Theorwael," he said as Boromir dismounted.

"Boromir." Boromir answered tersely, fighting waves of dizziness—he was suddenly glad that Eomer had refused his offer of help. He was more tired than he had realized.

Theorwael, his back already turned as he laid Sedryn down on the ground, spoke. "There's bread and cheese in the saddlebags. Eat."

Complying, Boromir took a hunk of bread and kneeled down beside Sedryn. Theorwael had taken one of the cloaks off her and used it as a pillow under her head. Using the other as a blanket, he spread it over her and uncovered her wounded leg, carefully straightening it. He used a dagger to cut through the blood soaked bandage and eased it off, his face darkening as he saw that the wound was still raw and seeping.

Swiftly, he rummaged in his bag for clean cloths, needle and thread, antiseptic, balm, and bandages. He seemed to debate for a moment before pulling out a bottle of clear liquid out of the bag. "Hand me the canteen from the saddlebag," he said to Boromir as he checked Sedryn's vital signs.

When Boromir had given it to him, he took a cloth and wet it with both the liquid from the bottle and water from the canteen. With surprising gentleness for a man of his size, Theorwael cleaned the wound, using another cloth to sponge away the new blood that sluggishly emanated from the cut as Sedryn jerked at the sudden renewed pain. "The longest muscle in her leg was cut, so it's likely she'll limp always. I think I've cleaned it well enough, but there is no way to tell if there are slivers of bone still in the wound. They may do nothing, or, they may work their way out. Painfully."

Once he had cleaned it to his satisfaction, he stitched it up quickly and skillfully. After he finished, he rubbed a cooling, soothing balm on the scar and bandaged it lightly. Leaning back on his knees, he covered Sedryn up with the cloak and looked up to meet Boromir's gaze.

"She'll recover from the considerable blood loss, though that will take a while." He said simply. "Let her sleep now – we'll move her to a tent—" he said and gestured behind him. For the first time Boromir realized that tents had sprung up on the plain, set up by those Eomer had ordered to stay behind. "—and keep her covered. When she wakes up she can eat, although you may have to help her."

Boromir wanted to ask when she would be able to travel, but didn't know how to ask without seeming callous.

"When the Fieldmarshal returns we shall be honored to have you journey with us back to Edoras where your lady can get proper care. She won't be able to ride for a while." Theorwael continued, using a clean cloth to wipe off her face, neck, and hands.

Boromir nodded. "Thank you," he said quietly, his tired eyes full of gratitude.

Theorwael nodded back. "It is nothing." He said.

"We are in your debt." Boromir said. "I won't forget it."

"Peace." Theorwael said, raising his hand. "There is no debt. Now, let's carry her to the tent."

Boromir knelt by her and carefully slid his arms under her back and knees and lifted her slowly. He followed Theorwael's lead to a spacious tent in the middle of the encampment and crouched to set her down on a bed of furs and pillows that Theorwael hastily set down.

After a nod, Theorwael left. Boromir stroked Sedryn's face and went into the mind-clasp. When he ascertained that she was fine, he slipped out and went outside to wash only to come face to face with Theorwael bringing a basin of water for Boromir. He handed the basin to Boromir. "For you," he said.

Boromir gratefully took the basin and cloths from him. "Thank you so much, Theorwael." he said, looking into Theorwael's face.

"Call me Theo," he answered, feeling a sudden kinship to the gracious lord of men. There were legends galore about this man, even in Rohan, and yet truly he was one of them – a soldier and a noble man.

Boromir dipped his head and smiled, embarrassed, as Theo left. Taking the basin into the tent, he washed his hands and face, closing his eyes in relief as the warm herb-infused water cleansed the grime from his face. He took a deep breath as waves of weariness washed over him. Quickly, he shrugged out of his stained overtunic and ripped, dirty breeches into clean ones from his bag. Once he had finished he sat and slipped under the furs with Sedryn, a groan escaping his lips as tired muscles painfully unclenched and relaxed.

He slept.