When it was time for Finduilas to eat and Faramir to sleep, it was Boromir who sat at her bedside. She would never say so, but Boromir knew she was relived that he was old enough to understand the gravity of her illness. She did not have to be strong and cheerful for him like she did for Faramir.

She stroked his hair and her eyes were shiny as they looked into his. "I want you to promise me something, my son."

"Anything, Mother," Boromir said, holding her hands.

"Promise me that you'll always look after Faramir. More than his brother, I want you to be his friend. Promise me you'll always love him and won't let anything happen to him."

Boromir bowed his head. "I promise, Mother. You have my word."

She smiled the most tender and loving he'd ever seen. "You make me proud to be your mother." She pulled him close and he bowed his head so she could kiss it. "I could not ask for a better son." She ran her fingers through his hair and they smiled at each other for a minute, but then hers faded. Boromir noticed she was looking at something behind him and turned around. He could just make out a lock of gray hair and a length of dark cape around the corner of the wall.

He closed his eyes. Why can Father not allow us even an hour of privacy? He felt his mother scoot away from him and he opened his eyes. Her face was distant, and he saw something in it that he did not like.

"Mother?" he whispered. She tilted her head just a little to indicate she'd heard. "Why do you never ask for Father? You ask for Faramir and me all the time, but never him." He thought to suggest that perhaps if she paid him a little more attention, he might not feel the need to hide behind walls and spy on them.

Finduilas opened and closed her mouth a dozen times, and Boromir fought to stay patient and allow her to think her answer through. Unfortunately, he spent the rest of his life wondering what it might have been, because just as she began to speak, the two heard a thud and turned to see Denethor, who had leaned a bit too far in his effort to hear them and lost his balance.

Finduilas glared and began to tremble. "Filthy spy! Get out."

Denethor looked up at her from down on his knees, his eyes pleading. "Dearest Finduilas, please-"

"Out!" and as she was trembling, her husband and son wasted no time in scrambling to their feet and rushing out the door, which they closed behind them. A few seconds later, they could hear sobs.

"I do not understand," Denethor said, blinking hard. "Why does she despise me so? I have done nothing but attempt to provide her with the very best care." He shook his head hard and Boromir felt tears spring to his own eyes as he threw his arms around his father.

"I am sorry, Father," he said. Denethor stroked his hair.

"My son," he said lovingly, struggling to keep his voice steady. "I cannot thank you enough for your loyalty, for your love for me. You are more precious to me than any other person in this world."

They were making their way back to their chambers when a flicker of a shadow caught Denethor's eye. He gripped Boromir's shoulder, stopping both of them in their tracks.

"Be on your guard. Someone is skulking about." The servants would all be finished with their work by this hour and the guards did not patrol this part of the palace. Boromir tensed and reached for his sword only to remember that he'd left it in his room. He resisted the urge to clutch his father's arm.

Denethor tread cautiously toward the shadow, which was paused just behind a column. He doubted it was a terrible threat- probably just someone from his staff hoping to sneak some food or jewels, that sort of thing had happened before. Still, he wanted to give the person a good scare. After the day he'd had, he was well in the mood for it.

Boromir stayed where he was, clenching his fists so he would be ready to back his father up if necessary. This may be it, he thought. The moment when all my training is put to use. He was on his toes, ready to charge, to spring, to pounce on whoever dared intrude upon his family's chambers.

Yet for all his preparation, he still jumped when he heard his father yell.

"You impudent little sneak!" he shouted, and then Boromir winced when he heard a crack and then a wail that sounded painfully familiar. He rushed toward his father and stopped short, mouth agape, when he saw Faramir clutching his red cheek with tears pouring down his face. At his feet Boromir recognized his latest bed sheet, crumpled and sporting a big wet spot in the middle.

"You thought you could hide this from me," Denethor seethed. "You thought you could soil another sheet and then lie about it?"

"I'm s-s-sorry," Faramir cried. He ran to Boromir, who instinctively scooped him up. Faramir threw his arms around his brother's neck and sobbed.

Denethor turned on him now, and in a voice that sounded braver than he felt, Boromir said, "He didn't mean to, Father. It was an accident."

"Sneaking around my palace in an attempt to hide his misdeed from me was not an accident," Denethor snarled. He snatched Faramir from him and shook him. "Do not ever try to hide anything from me again. I will catch you and you will be so very sorry."

"I won't," Faramir whimpered. "I won't, I'm sorry."

"What was that?"

"I won't!"

"Father, stop!" Boromir pleaded, who was close to tears himself. "He didn't mean to, all right? He can't help it."

Denethor shot Boromir a glare, but set Faramir down. "You are to go to your room and stay there until I say you may leave it." Faramir just stood there, wiping his eyes and rubbing his sore cheek. "Now!" Denethor shouted.

"Please can I see Mama?" Faramir asked. He hadn't called her that since he was a toddler. "I had a nightmare-"

"No," Denethor said, and Boromir's heart began to pound at his tone. "You may not. Go to your room at once."

Faramir sniffed and Boromir noticed the skin under his eyes was dark. He wondered how tired his little brother was and if he'd slept much at all. Faramir shook his head. "No, I want Mama!" he sobbed.

"If you will not do as I say, I will-" But Faramir darted out from his grasp just as Denethor started to grab him. He took off across the palace hall and Boromir followed him, begging him to stop. He could hear their father shouting behind him and his footsteps getting closer, but being more athletic and in better shape, Boromir caught up with Faramir first. The little lad burst into his mother's room and flung himself at her bed, startling her into wakefulness.

"Faramir, Mother needs to sleep," Boromir said, but Finduilas put a finger to her lips and he was quiet as he too approached her bedside. Faramir was blubbering something he couldn't make out and Finduilas was hugging him, whispering soothing words into his ear.

It would always puzzle Boromir how quickly her entire demeanor seemed to change, for the minute his father entered the room and her eyes fixed on him, she handed Faramir to his brother and became another person entirely.

"Denethor son of Ecthelion!" Everyone in the room jumped. No one had ever heard Finduilas scream like that. Faramir clung to Boromir.

"Is this true?" she asked, and her face was paler than they'd ever seen it, but she was wearing a hard glare. It transformed her. She was shaking and began to rise from her bed and stand up.

Denethor trembled and held up his hands. "Darling please, sit down-"

"Is. It. True?"

Denethor was at a loss for words. Faramir had never seen his father look so helpless. "I, I-"

"You filthy scum." He recoiled as though she had stricken him, and the children held each other as Finduilas advanced on her husband, backing him into a corner. "You never, ever punish a child for wetting himself. Never!" Her voice was shrill and Denethor winced.

"Sweetheart, please, I never meant to upset you-"

"Upset me? It matters not what I feel, this is not about me. This is about Faramir. You punished him for what is a natural, basic instinct, and he is the one you owe a sincere apology. You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Tears sprung to her eyes and, having pushed Denethor all the way into the corner, she began to hit his chest with her fist. "How could you? How could you treat your own son so coldly?"

"Mama!" Faramir cried. "Mama, stop!"

Finduilas turned to face him. She appeared to have much more she wanted to say. And there is no doubt she would have said it all, had she not turned whiter than a pillow and collapsed. Faramir screamed, Boromir began crying, and Denethor yelled for healers, who came at once. They tried smelling salts, herbs, and every medicine they could think of.

But it was too late. Finduilas was dead.