A/N: And now for the big reunion! Things are picking up in this story:) Thanks so much for the reviews. I love 'em. Apologies for taking forever.
Boromir tried to calm himself as he navigated the battlefield. He was furious at himself. Why hadn't he confronted Daphnaie? Why had he decided to keep quiet?
He shook his head. He knew why. He had been desperate for companionship. From his time in Lothlorien to the breaking of the Fellowship, he had felt alone. All his life he had been surrounded by people who loved him, who depended on him, and that had fueled him. Then it had all been suddenly ripped away. Though caused by the influence of the ring, his suspicion of everyone and desire for the power the ring could give him had driven him from his friends. He had woken from near death alone and with the realization that he had betrayed his friends. He had felt crippled, stripped of purpose. And then Daphnaie was there, and she had needed him. If nothing else, she needed his protection. If someone needed him, he had purpose and if he had purpose, he could go on. He could keep fighting. So in his fear of driving away the person who trusted him, who needed him, he had failed to act as he should have.
If he had confronted her about her lies before, he might have been able to, at the very least, send a warning to Theoden, for surely Daphnaie had known of Saruman's plans. Because of his cowardice, he had once again failed his friends. Was this the sort of person he was now—a craven and a traitor? As he began to ride up the ramp to the Hornburg, his pulse quickened. His nervousness made him feel less like a bold warrior and more like the small boy he once was. How would they receive him? Would they welcome him back to their company or would they scorn him for his past actions? Would Aragorn cast him out as a traitor? That possibility seemed more and more likely as Boromir dismounted his horse. The fear continued to grow in his heart as he tied up the steed next to a row of other Rohirric horses and began to thread his way through the throng of soldiers bustling about. All were so focused on their tasks that they paid Boromir little heed.
He searched the crowd for a familiar face. Surely if Aragorn were here Boromir would be able to spot his dark hair easily amid this sea of fair-haired Rohirric soldiers. Then he spotted her, a woman patching up the arm of a wounded man. But this was no ordinary nurse.
"Eowyn!" Boromir called as he pushed his way through the crowded passageway towards her. The White Lady of Rohan glanced up from her work and looked for the voice calling her. She was filthy, wearing a plain brown dress without embellishment, but all the same Eowyn looked like royalty. She had an air about her, a certain grace and strength that radiated from her like a true shield maiden of Rohan. Her eyes slid past Boromir at first but quickly snapped back and widened as she recognized him. He and Eowyn had been instant friends the first time they'd met in Edoras years ago, being so alike in personality—both proud and strong and fierce. He couldn't keep the grin from spreading over his face as she stood and rushed to meet him. The moment she reached him she threw her arms around him in a less-than-lady-like embrace.
"My God, Boromir. I don't believe it. They told me you were dead," she whispered into his chest. He was touched by the tears he saw in her eyes as he stepped back from her.
"Yes, well that does seem to be the rumor." He said unsure of how to reply. Then he was all business. There would be time for catching up later. "Lady Eowyn, my heart soars to see you again, but please put my fears to rest. Tell me of my friends. Do Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas yet live?" He looked at her hopefully. The weight pressing on his heart lessoned somewhat when she smiled broadly at him.
"Boromir, it gives me great pleasure to pass on to you these glad tidings. Your friends are well, weary from battle but otherwise in good health." They were alive! He hugged her once more and spun her around in his joy. Despite the odds, his friends had made it out of the Battle of Helms Deep unscathed.
"Can you take me to them? I must speak to them." He asked upon releasing her.
"Of course," she answered still smiling. "They are in conference with the King at the moment. Follow me." She led him through the crowd and further up into the keep till they reached a large set of plain oak doors. Two guards stood outside, but they relaxed when they saw it was Eowyn approaching. She stopped before entering and turned back towards Boromir. "Are you ready?" she asked him. Boromir could not remember a time when he had felt more ill at ease. No, he was most certainly not ready.
"Yes." He answered. With his go-ahead, Eowyn opened the doors and led Boromir into the expansive room beyond.
Silence.
All conversation within stopped dead as the few people in the room recognized the son of the steward. Every eye swung to Boromir. He surveyed the room of shocked faces, unable to speak yet. The company stood circled around a wide table covered in maps and other papers. Theoden was still in full armor with Eomer at his left shoulder looking utterly spent. It seemed to Boromir that his friend looked weary and not simply from battle. The pressures of the war and of his new responsibilities had not treated Eomer kindly. Gimli stood next to Eomer looking relaxed, his war axe propped up against the table. Aragorn was beside Gimli looking tired and bloody but whole, to Boromir's great relief. It was one thing to hear from Eowyn that his friends were alright. It was another thing entirely to see it himself. Beside Aragorn was Legolas looking…Boromir nearly rolled his eyes. Legolas looked perfect, not a hair out of place. If not for the few smears of gore on his tunic, Boromir would not have believed Legolas had spent the last several hours in battle. Bloody elf.
Beside Legolas on Theoden's other shoulder was a man Boromir never thought to see again.
"Gandalf!" Boromir's voice rang out in the silent room. "How is this possible? I thought you dead!" Gandalf's initial shock settled into an amused smile.
"I could say the same to you, master Boromir." Gandalf's words snapped everyone out of their daze. All, sans Theoden, rushed to Boromir, offering kind greetings and embracing him.
"Seems like I picked the right fellowship," Gimli said with a chuckle. "First Gandalf, then Aragorn, and now Boromir returns from the dead to jump right back into the fray. At this rate, the lot of us might as well storm Mordor ourselves. Who could stop us?"
"I had thought Ialone was immortal in this fellowship. Must you men continue to make a fool of me?" Legolas put in patting Boromir on the back.
Boromir's relief at his welcome was immense, but when Aragon grasped his forearm firmly and placed a hand on his shoulder, Boromir remembered his shame.
"Forgive me, Aragorn. I have dishonored you and our people. My betrayal at Amen Hen was—."
"Betrayal?" Aragorn interjected. "You and I remember Amen Hen very differently." Boromir peered into the grey eyes of his brother—his king—and found no anger, no scorn, nothing but joy at his return. "I remember only your brave defense of the halflings. I remember you protecting them in the face of scores of Uruk- Hai, and indeed I remember you dying rather than abandon them. Yet, here you stand before me. How can this be?" Aragorn looked at Boromir with awe in his eyes.
"I am not entirely certain." Boromir said after a pause. "I will try to explain as best I can." He told them of the strange healer who had saved his life, talked briefly of their travels to and out of Edoras, and, finally, told them of his suspicions.
"So you believed this Daphnaie was a spy and still you allowed her to roam freely across my land?" Theoden asked sternly. Boromir bristled at his tone. Theoden may be king of Rohan, but Boromir was the son of the steward of Gondor, captain of the White Tower, and a proven commander and leader of men. He would not be spoken down to.
"She was hardly free. She was never out of my sight. I thought it best to keep her with me, perhaps discover some of Saruman's plans through her." Boromir answered in his defense.
"And did you? Do you have some information for us that made this gamble of yours worthwhile?" Boromir answered Theoden with a scowl.
.
"I…no."
"Hmm," Theoden said with a shrug that added: I didn't think so. "Where is this girl now?"
"I left her with Leofric, one of yours." Boromir answered evenly. "They should be somewhere in the keep now."
"Eomer." Theoden said turning to his nephew.
"Yes, my Lord?" Eomer asked, not sounding nearly as drained as he looked.
"Take the guards outside the door and bring this spy to me. I should like to know Saruman's next move."
"Aye." Eomer answered and exited the large double-doors.
Finally. Boromir thought. Daphnaie will be shown for what she truly is, and then her bothersome presence will be removed forever from my life. And that was a good thing, wasn't it?
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It smelled here. Outside the walls of Helm's Deep, fires burned and the rusty smell of blood saturated the air, and though Daphnaie was thankful to escape the horror of the battle scene, the air inside the walls was not much better. The rank smell of horses and sweaty soldiers and other filthy things was inescapable. Leofric stopped to tie up the horse and helped Daphnaie dismount, but he didn't look her in the eye. He hadn't said one word to her since Boromir's outburst. Daphnaie sighed. It was so unfair. What had she ever done but help? It hurt her to be accused like this, but it hurt more that Boromir was the one doing the accusing. She had thought she had proven herself, that they were…what? Friends? Ha! How ridiculous. She didn't have friends. She was above friends. She was better than Boromir, she was better than Leofric, and she was better than the rest of them too. Of course she was. She had been an immortal. She had centuries under her belt, centuries to accumulate knowledge and wisdom they would never know, and what were these men? They were nothing.
Then why did Boromir's disapproval make her feel so small?
Daphnaie glanced to her left and saw a group of healers patching up some minor injuries. She should help them. She was not so above helping the suffering. She was more than capable, and these men were….they were soldiers. They were so noble and so brave. She envied that. She longed to find some courage in herself. She made up her mind. These men deserved help, and she would give it to them. Before she could take her first step though, Leofric grabbed her by the arm.
"What are you doing? Let me go!" She said angrily.
"Wait look," Leofric said nodding up the walkway. Daphnaie looked and saw two soldiers led by a strikingly tall man wearing a magnificent horse-head helmet. "That's Eomer," Leofric said, still without looking at her. "The king's nephew and heir."
"Oh," she replied lamely. "He's big." Leofric smiled a little. She felt suddenly nervous as the great man stopped in front of them, and she grabbed onto the end of Leofric's sleeve. He glanced down at her then but didn't pull away.
"Are you Leofric?" Eomer asked firmly.
"I am, my Lord." Leofric answered dipping his head quickly.
"Then this must be Lord Boromir's prisoner." He looked over at Daphnaie. Alarm shot through her. Prisoner? She was a prisoner now? That did not bode well. Leofric seemed to be thinking the same thing, for he stepped in front of her slightly.
"Where is Lord Boromir?" Leofric demanded. Eomer glared at Leofric.
"He's with the king, who has sent me to bring her to him. Step aside Leofric." Loefric looked as though he might refuse.
Please Leofric. Please don't let them take me. Daphnaie thought desperately. But then Leofric took a step to the left, leaving Daphnaie at the mercy of the guards.
"Yes, my Lord." He said bowing his head. Eomer stepped forward and grabbed both of Daphnaie's wrists with one big hand. She jerked away from him.
"What do you think you're doing?" She said but her voice came out smaller than she had intended.
"My lady, don't make this more difficult than this has to be." Eomer said, his tone gentle. Daphnaie looked at Leofric for help, but he simply nodded his head at her. Reluctantly Daphnaie brought her wrists together and stuck them out in from of her. Eomer took a short rope and deftly tied it around her outstretched hands.
Eomer took her up through the curved passageways of Helm's Deep, stopping only once he'd reached a set of large oak doors.
"Prepare yourself." Eomer said to her. "The king does not always keep his temper…in check." He looked down at her with pity, then swung open the doors and led her in. "My lord," Eomer said to Theoden with a bow as he reached the center of the room. "This is the girl, Lord Boromir's prisoner." Daphnaie was aware of the other people in the room, but she was too terrified to look anywhere but at the man wearing blood stained armor standing only a few feet in front of her. He looked at her hatefully.
"What did he promise you?" Theoden asked her.
"Who?" Daphnaie replied softly.
"Saruman. What did he offer you? I imagine it must have been quite spectacular for you to agree to help murder thousands of innocents, for you to help rip husbands from their wives and leave children without homes. Please, I'm very curious to know what you got out of all of this." What was she to say to that? She could feel herself starting to shake.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I…I never—"
"Don't lie to me!" Theoden yelled at her. He stormed up to her, and pointed his finger at her accusingly. "I know what you are. No matter what it takes I will rid these lands of poisonous snakes like you. He turned his head to look at someone beside her, presumably Eomer but Daphnaie's vision was starting to blur from unshed tears, and she couldn't quite tell."Lock her up. I don't have time for this right now." Theoden said and stomped away. Eomer took her by the elbow to lead her out of the room. She didn't struggle. She was glad to go. But when Eomer turned her around she saw him, Boromir, and anger surged through her. She looked him right in the eye.
"What did I do to make you hate me so much?" She asked him as tears started to fall. "Why would you condemn me like this?" Boromir did not respond. He started to turn away from her. How dare he.
"I regret it," she said under her breath, but he heard and looked back at her.
"What?"
"I should never have saved your life. I should have let you die at Amen Hen. Then none of this would've happened. No one would hate me. No one would hurt me. You couldn't hurt me. Dead things can't hurt anyone." Shock shone in his eyes. He didn't respond. He just stood there silently, staring at her. Eomer tugged on her elbow then so she turned away from Boromir and slowly walked back to the double doors. Just before she exited the horrible room she glanced behind her one last time, but her eyes didn't find Boromir. She found instead an old friend, her only old friend.
"Gandalf?"
A/N I know, I know. Don't worry. Everyone's upset now but I promise good times are ahead. So what did you think?