I'm posting this a little earlier than I anticipated, but writing is going well and I'm up to Chapter 15 in draft form. It's a little on the long side too, but I hope you all enjoy it!

And since I haven't said it recently, just want to add how much I appreciate your reviews! A big thank-you also goes out to CrystalSaffron, my terrific Beta reader!

Chapter 8

Night was falling as they reached the Citadel, and Boromir gazed at the steps leading up to the Tower Hall with distaste. He was determined to meet with his father as soon as possible, but he knew he was at the end of his strength and urgently needed to rest. He sighed and began trudging slowly up the steps flanked by Morloth and Gandalf, both ready to lend a hand if necessary, while Pippin looked on worriedly. Boromir was concerned about the upcoming meeting; matching wits with his father was a challenge at any time, let alone when he was so fatigued. He hoped that the presence of Gandalf would dissuade his father from asking him about Aragorn or the "mighty gift" his father had expected him to bring; Boromir definitely preferred to tackle those contentious subjects after he'd had a chance to rest and had a long chat with Gandalf.

The door guards, dressed in familiar black and silver livery of the Citadel, opened the doors smartly as they approached. They entered, and beside him Morloth let out a small sigh of relief; he guessed that it because they were in the antechamber off the Tower Hall and weren't immediately confronted by his father or the austere splendor of the throne room. When he turned to her he saw her face was pale and anxious, and her hands were trembling slightly. He fought down his initial urge, which was to take her in his arms to comfort her, and instead caught her hand and murmured, "Morloth, are you well?"

"I…I'm rather nervous about meeting your father, Boromir. Is it really necessary for me to be here? I can't imagine he'll want to make my acquaintance!"

Boromir squeezed her hand reassuringly, "If you really do not wish to, I won't insist, but I did want him to know who deserves his thanks for my recovery. You need not stay long." He smiled and added lightheartedly, "He can be rather frightening, but he won't harm you—I won't let him!"

She looked up, nodded, and smiled, "If you wish it, I can do it." Meeting her lovely gray eyes always made his heart beat faster, but this time it also did a leap of joy when he saw the trust written there—trust in him.

"Good!" Then, noticing a small writing table tucked into a corner of the antechamber, he exclaimed, "Oh! Now I recall there is something I must do for you." He went to the table, found a parchment, and wrote a brief note to the Warden of the Houses of Healing requesting, very politely, that they provide a place for Morloth to stay while she was in the city. Boromir smiled wryly to himself; however courteously worded, he knew that from him, the request would be treated as a command.

After the note was written, he found a page and asked him to take it to the Houses of Healing immediately. When done, he said softly to Morloth, "Now, my lady, you'll have a place to stay tonight." Her grateful smile and murmured thanks were all the payment he needed.

"Are you ready, Boromir?" Gandalf asked politely, though Boromir sensed he was impatient with the delay.

"Indeed I am," Boromir responded, "let us proceed."

They passed through the second set of doors that led to the main chamber, and when they entered, Boromir could see his father sitting on the Steward's seat at the far end. Boromir's heart lifted; as difficult as this relationship with his father could be at times, it was good to see him again after all these months. He increased his pace as much as possible given his tiredness, but before he had gone far along the row of columns leading to the throne, his father stood up with a glad cry and hurried to meet him.

"Boromir, my son! You have returned at last!" When Denethor approached closely enough for his son to see him well, Boromir was shocked at how much grayer and more bent he seemed than when he had left for Rivendell eight months before.

"Yes, Father, I am finally home," he said, as he embraced his father, "But what is this I hear about you thinking I was dead? You of all people should know that a descendant of the House of Húrin does not succumb so easily!"

Denethor pulled away and smiled at Boromir, a glint of tears in his eyes, "I am sorry, Boromir, I should not have despaired. But your horn was heard and then there was no word from you, so I feared the worst. Mithrandir said you had been gravely injured, but you seem well," Denethor added, with a distrustful glance at Gandalf.

"Yes, I was, and I am still recovering." He turned and motioned Morloth forward, "I want you to meet the person we have to thank for that recovery, the Lady Morloth, daughter of Menelgil. I would not be here today if not for her skill and dedication." He sent a silent apology to Aragorn, for he knew that he would not have survived the first hours after the battle without Aragorn's care, but he did not think his friend would mind given the difficulties it would cause if he were mentioned.

Denethor inclined his head and smiled tightly, "Indeed? Well then, my lady, you have my thanks and the thanks of Gondor for restoring Boromir to us."

Morloth stepped up beside him and sank into a graceful curtsey, "It is an honor to meet you, Lord Steward. I am happy to have been of service."

The Lord Steward turned back to his son, clearly having dismissed Morloth from his thoughts, "How did you come to be injured, my son?"

Boromir suppressed a surge of irritation at his father's treatment of Morloth. Boromir had seen him do the same thing many times to his brother, except with Faramir Denethor rarely bothered to conceal his scorn.

"It is a long story, but in short, Father, on my way home to Gondor I met a large band of orcs near Amon Hen." Boromir thought it unlikely that this explanation would satisfy his father for long, but hoped it would delay the discussion of his companions and their purpose. He turned toward Morloth again intending to tell her that she could leave, but he moved too quickly, and fatigue made him stagger.

Gandalf and Morloth were at his side immediately to insure that he didn't fall, but Boromir cursed under his breath; how he hated this weakness! Denethor, alarmed by his son's stumble, exclaimed, "What it is this? My son, you said you were mending, and yet you are too weak to stand?" He glanced suspiciously at Morloth as if holding her responsible for Boromir's condition.

"Do not…" With an effort, Boromir reined in his annoyance with his father, "I am merely tired, Father, and it is my own fault. Lady Morloth warned me that riding from Osgiliath might be too much, but I insisted."

"I assure you that he is mending, my lord," Morloth responded, a hint of steel in her voice. "But it will be some time until Lord Boromir is back to full strength. He needs to rest, and soon."

"There are some matters we must discuss, Boromir, and they cannot wait," his father said forcefully.

Gandalf spoke for the first time since they had entered the hall, "Surely some of them can wait," he said genially. "Perhaps a short discussion tonight, and a longer one tomorrow after Boromir has had time to rest, hmm?"

Boromir nodded, "I can manage that." His father did not look happy with the compromise, or Gandalf's intervention, but accepted it without comment. Then Boromir addressed Morloth, and mindful of Faramir's warning, kept his tone as neutral as possible, "My lady, you may go; I will send word if you are needed." He met her eyes and he thought he saw understanding there that his formality was not indifference.

"Of course, my lord," she murmured, and bowed before leaving. Boromir forced his attention away from her and back to the others. He glanced at Pippin; he had been unusually silent through the entire exchange, but he grinned when Boromir caught his eye, his irrepressible spirit shining through.

"Perhaps a seat for Boromir?" Pippin asked in a deferential tone that didn't fool Boromir in the slightest.

"Excellent idea, Pippin," Boromir replied, "for all of us, I think. If I am going to review our defenses, it is essential I know what forces Rohan may be able to send, and you two have been there most recently."

To Boromir's relief, his father grunted sourly but did not argue, and motioned for a servant to bring three chairs that were placed near the Steward's seat.

After they were seated, Boromir took a deep breath and marshaled his thoughts; from long experience he knew it would be best if he brought up the subject of the beacons, rather than wait until his father learned of it, if indeed he did not know already. "Father, it appears there has been some misunderstanding between you and Mithrandir concerning the lighting of the beacons. He seemed to think you were against it, but he must have been mistaken." He turned to the wizard, "Perhaps your ears aren't as sharp as they once were, Gandalf."

Gandalf's expression was bland, but there was an unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes, "Perhaps not, Boromir; a regrettable misunderstanding."

"But the beacon has been lit, I am told;" Denethor growled, "a wizard's trick, no doubt!"

Boromir chuckled, and even to his ears it sounded a little forced, "Not at all, Father, I ordered it to be done! I knew that is what you would want. After all, we need our allies in Rohan to come to our aid as soon as possible. Besides, it would not do to have our own people think we are unaware of the danger we face, or worse yet, have despaired of victory."

He held his breath, this was the danger point; he was hoping that knowing it was past correcting, his father would decide not to openly disagree with him. Boromir also knew that Denethor had other, more subtle ways to make one pay for disobedience that he might face later, but that was a risk that he was willing to take in a matter so important.

"Indeed not," Denethor said tightly.

Boromir relaxed; at least one hurdle was past. "Now Father, I would be obliged if you could enlighten me on the disposition of our forces."

-ooo-

A long, weary, hour later Boromir finally reached the door to his own rooms which he had not seen in many months. He dismissed the two Citadel guards that his father had assigned to escort him; Boromir would have preferred having Gandalf and Pippin accompany him, but Denethor had insisted. He had done his best to convey a silent message to Gandalf that Boromir wanted him and Pippin to come to his rooms, and he hoped the message had been received.

Opening the door he found Duinor, his personal servant of many years waiting for him, and his rooms clean and ready for him to occupy. He sagged in relief as Duinor bustled up to greet him.

"My lord, welcome home!" Duinor said, smiling warmly, "I must tell you that the Citadel staff had begun to worry, with you being gone so long. I'm sure your father and brother are very pleased that you are home safely. Here, let me take that, my lord," he said, deftly removing Boromir's cloak. Boromir dropped into a cushioned chair nearby. "Your gear was sent up a little while ago, including your sword, and they are stowed in their usual places."

"Thank you, Duinor; by Eru it's good to be back! It's nice to see you, too, Duinor, I hope your family is well."

"Very well, my lord, it's kind of you to ask. My daughter Anissa had another baby, so of course Indis is thrilled."

"You don't mind another grandchild either, I wager." Boromir chuckled.

Duinor's smile broadened, "No, my lord, I confess I do not." He eyed Boromir with concern, "Did I hear correctly that you were badly wounded?"

"Yes," Boromir said with a weary smile, "almost two weeks ago now. The danger is past, but I am still not at full strength. Which reminds me, the healer that tended me is here in Minas Tirith. Her name is Morloth and she is to be allowed in to see me at any time."

Duinor's eyebrows rose, "A lady healer, at any time, my lord?"

"Well, perhaps not any time. Use your discretion, Duinor," he replied, and Duinor looked relieved. It was probably best not to scandalize the servants, despite his private hopes for his relationship with Morloth.

"But since I have been most sternly ordered to rest, you'd best get out my night robe. And two of the companions I traveled with these last few months, the wizard Mithrandir and a halfling, should be stopping by, please let them in as soon as they arrive."

Duinor's eyebrows rose even higher, "Mithrandir and a…halfling? Of course, my lord," he replied, quickly regaining his composure.

When Gandalf and Pippin arrived, Boromir was sitting up in bed, rapidly writing notes on a piece of parchment.

"Your guests, my lord, Mithrandir the wizard and Master Peregrin Took," Duinor announced as he showed them into the bedroom. Boromir motioned them over and Duinor quickly brought chairs for them to the bedside.

"Thank you, Duinor. Please have these notes delivered immediately." He handed the servant two notes and then turned his attention to his friends.

Pippin was gazing with wonder around the large, high-ceilinged room with the massive bed in the center. "This is very nice, Boromir. The rooms Gandalf and I were given are nice, but this is very nice."

Gandalf's eyes crinkled with amusement, "You may have forgotten after all those nights sleeping on the ground and listening to Gimli snore, but your friend Boromir is a prince of the city, after all."

"I suppose I did! What were you working on, Boromir, if it's not a state secret, of course." Pippin added.

Boromir chuckled, "Nothing of that sort, Pippin. Since my father has seen fit to reaffirm my appointment as Captain-General of Gondor's forces, I was giving my orders for tomorrow, or tonight, to be more precise."

Gandalf puffed on his pipe and asked, "And what were those orders, if I may ask?"

"Nothing that will surprise you, I'm certain," Boromir said dryly. "I'm sending one hundred additional men each to Osgiliath and Cair Andros. They will go tonight. If we are to have any hope of delaying Sauron's armies at the river crossings, we'll need more men than we have there presently."

Gandalf raised an eyebrow, "Would your father approve of this?"

Boromir shrugged, "Possibly not, I didn't ask. However, since such decisions are well within the scope of my responsibilities as Captain-General, so I felt no need to consult him."

"I see," Gandalf responded, a smile tugging his lips, "Anything else?"

"As you heard, the Lord Steward wants us to defend the Rammas Echor and the Causeway Forts," Boromir replied, "but I am less certain that would be a good use of our men."

"Why is that, Boromir?" Pippin asked.

"Because we have too few soldiers to defend all twelve leagues of the wall with more than a token force," Boromir said grimly. "Sauron will have more than enough troops to surround it and break through at multiple points, so I fear that we will only slow their advance for a short time at the cost of many Gondorian lives.

"But the Lord Steward wants it defended, and so it shall be. However, I plan to call for retreat as soon as the Dark Lord's forces have broken through at any point, and have our men fall back to the city. I've also arranged for a sortie to be ready to cover the retreat, both from the wall and the river crossings."

"Shadowfax and I may be of some assistance in that regard, Boromir," Gandalf assured him.

"Your help would be very welcome, Gandalf," Boromir said with a sigh. "But that's not why I wanted to speak to you tonight. I know you wish to hear about Faramir's meeting with the Ringbearer in Ithilien."

"Yes, whatever you could tell us would be appreciated," Gandalf replied, watching Boromir intently.

"I did not see them myself, so I only know what Faramir reported to me but you are welcome to that. Faramir should be back soon and he may have more to add," Boromir said. Then, with a heavy heart, he related the tale of Faramir's meeting with the hobbits, including the close call with the Nazgûl and Frodo turning his sword on Sam.

When Boromir was done, they sat in silence for a time, with Gandalf pensively smoking his pipe. Finally, he shook his head and said, "I do not know which is more troubling, that the Ring is affecting Frodo so deeply, or that Gollum is their guide and plans to take them through Cirith Ungol."

"That's not a good way to go?" Pippin asked anxiously.

"There is no 'good' way into Mordor, Pippin," Gandalf replied with a touch of asperity. "Cirith Ungol has its own particular peril that would only frighten you needlessly if I were to describe it. But as much as I wish I could say there is clearly a better, safer route into Mordor, there is not. We must trust that the strength and resourcefulness of Frodo and Sam will see them through."

Gandalf glanced at Boromir keenly, "What do you plan to tell your father tomorrow, Boromir? You will not be able to evade his questions for much longer."

Boromir sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, "I know. I hope he won't question me too closely about Aragorn, since there will be no point in discussing whom, if anyone, should take the throne unless we can survive the coming battle. But if he presses me for an answer, I will tell Father that I will support Aragorn's right to the crown. As for Isildur's Bane," Boromir shrugged, "he will have to be told that the Ring is not coming to Gondor. However, I want to be certain that Faramir does not bear all the blame for dashing Father's hopes since he made the right decision by releasing Frodo and Sam—the best decision for Gondor." Boromir glanced up at Gandalf, his chest constricting painfully, "And even more so since I was the one given the task of bringing Ring back to my Father."

Gandalf's expression did not change, but Pippin gasped in shock at this revelation. Boromir met the wizard's eyes and said, "You knew, Gandalf."

"I suspected something of the sort," Gandalf answered mildly.

"And you know what happened on Amon Hen," Boromir continued, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, Aragorn told me," Gandalf responded, his voice heavy. When Boromir looked up, he saw to his surprise that Gandalf's expression was not angry or scornful, but warm and sympathetic. "But I sensed before Moria that you were in peril. Please believe me, Boromir, if there was anything I could have said or done to try to turn you from that path, I would have done so."

"I know," Boromir agreed sadly, "I would not have listened. I did not understand as I do now."

Pippin, overcome with curiosity at what was to him a baffling discussion, burst in, "What do you understand? What happened on Amon Hen? What are you two talking about?" he said plaintively.

"It is Boromir's story to tell or not as he wishes, Pippin," Gandalf responded in a tone that brooked no argument.

Pippin turned to Boromir and must have sensed his distress as he got up from his chair and sat next to him on the bed. "Boromir, what's wrong? What happened that hurts you so much?" he pleaded.

Boromir's heart felt like a stone in his chest, "I would not have this secret between us, Pippin. But I will understand if you do not wish to continue our friendship after this." He paused for a long moment, mustering the courage to continue. "Just before the orcs attacked us at Amon Hen, I…I tried to take the Ring from Frodo." He closed his eyes to block out the memory and the look of pained surprise on Pippin's face. "He fled from me. That is why he and Sam left for Mordor alone."

"But…why, Boromir? Why would you do that? You must have had a reason." Pippin asked imploringly.

"Does it matter? I broke my word to the Fellowship and violated everything I believe in!" Pippin didn't respond, but continued to gaze at him sadly. Boromir's voice fell and he said resignedly, "I did not understand. I thought the Ring could save Gondor—Father begged me to bring it to him for that purpose! And the Ring itself…" he shuddered, "I did not know how much it had been affecting me until the madness passed and I realized what I had done." Boromir sat up straighter in the bed and met Pippin's eyes resolutely, "But that is no excuse, I let it tempt me into dishonor. I was…weak," he concluded bleakly.

After a moment Pippin said haltingly, "Boromir, now that I'm in Gondor and I see how desperate things are here, I can understand why you'd want to believe that the Ring could help. We know that you would have never done what you did if the Ring wasn't affecting you, making you believe that you needed it to save your people."

Gandalf added, "Even the wisest and mightiest among us are not proof against the Ring's evil. Saruman was the head of my order and his lust for the Ring caused him to betray all he believed in and become a puppet of Sauron. I understand the Ring's evil better than anyone in Middle Earth save Sauron himself, and I would not test myself against it.

"There is something else I'd like you to consider, Boromir," He puffed on his pipe thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again "I know it hurts you to see how your father scorns Faramir, discounts his strengths and dismisses his efforts. To Denethor, Faramir is the son that must always fail. It is a heavy burden for your brother to bear, and I know you try to lighten his load whenever possible."

"Of course I do," Boromir replied, surprised by this turn in the conversation, "the way Father treats him it is cruel and unjust—especially since Faramir loves him and wants nothing more than to earn his approval."

"Yes, and you have your father's approval—but at a cost. If Faramir is the son that must always fail, you are the son that must never fail." Gandalf shook his head, "If I had to choose, I would be hard-pressed to say which is the greater burden."

Boromir dropped his eyes, "I will think on what you have said, Gandalf."

Gandalf nodded briskly and got to his feet, "Good. Pippin, it is time to let our wounded hero get some rest." His eyes twinkled, "I would not like to face the Lady Morloth in the morning if we keep you up all night."

Boromir smiled sheepishly, "Well, as a matter of fact…" he began.

At that moment, Duinor let himself into the bedroom, "My lord," he announced, "the Lady Morloth is here to see you."

Boromir reddened and said, "Show her in, please, Duinor."

Gandalf and Pippin exchanged an amused glance, "Oh, I see," Gandalf said archly. "Come, Pippin, we should leave the lady to her ministrations."

Morloth appeared, and after a shy glance at Boromir, exchanged pleasantries with his other guests.

Pippin seemed inclined to linger and chat, but Gandalf was having none of it. He steered the hobbit toward the door and said, "I am pleased to leave you in such capable hands, Boromir. Goodnight, Boromir, my lady, we will see you in the morning."

They departed, leaving Boromir and Morloth alone together.