There have been a fair number of Story Alerts and Favorites added for this story recently, which I very much appreciate. However, if you like the story—or even if you don't—I'd love to hear why.

I do try to thank all my reviewers individually, but recently some couldn't be reached by PM, so I'll say 'thank you' now. I do welcome your reviews, and of course those of my regular reviewers!

Chapter 9

After Gandalf and Pippin left, Morloth and Boromir gazed at each other in silence for a moment, both seemingly too self-conscious to speak. Finally, Boromir addressed Duinor, who was hovering in the doorway. "Duinor, is the guard who summoned Lady Morloth still outside?"

"Yes, my lord," Duinor replied.

"Good. Ask him to stay to escort her back to the Houses when we are done. After that, you may leave for the night."

"Yes, my lord," Duinor nodded and left. To Morloth's eyes he seemed relieved at Boromir's attention to propriety. Morloth also breathed a little easier; of course if necessary she could have found her way back to the sixth level by herself, but the prospect of wandering the halls of the Steward's residence alone made her more than a little nervous.

Boromir smiled shyly at her and gestured to the chairs at his bedside that Gandalf and Pippin had vacated. "Please sit, Morloth. I…I thought you might like to check my wounds to make certain no damage was done by the exertions of the day."

"Oh! Oh, of course, my l…Boromir," she answered, catching herself in time, "that is an excellent idea." She set her bag on the floor and pulled one of the chairs closer to the bed. As she reached for him to pull aside the fine robe he was wearing, she became conscious of a new smell, a faint spicy fragrance that overlay his own familiar scent. She knew that it must have come from his clothes or bedding, but the combination of the two scents triggered an unexpected surge of desire that ran through her body like a flame. She was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that she was alone in the bedroom of a man she found very attractive, and one who had made it all too clear that he desired her.

Sensing her uncertainty, he caught her eyes, smiled, and said, "Allow me," before opening his robe. She took a deep breath and reached for him again, but to her chagrin noticed that her hand was trembling slightly.

Boromir noticed it too, and searched her face anxiously, "Is anything wrong, Morloth?"

Morloth briefly considered what plausible lie she could give him, but then decided that honesty was in order. She gave him an embarrassed smile, "I now find it to be more difficult to think of you as just a patient, Boromir."

There was a flare of desire in his eyes and his breath quickened. "Do you indeed?" he asked softly, meeting her eyes. He searched her face keenly and added, "I suppose that is only fair, since I have thought of you as more than just a healer for quite some time.

"But we should not let that get in the way of you doing your job," he smiled and said lightly. "Would it help if I were a surly patient?" With that, he affected a ferocious scowl that made her laugh.

"Indeed it would," she replied, smiling, and bent to her task. Resolutely putting aside the thoughts of how close her body was to his and that she was touching his bare chest, she quickly examined the wounds. It was well that she did, for to her dismay the shoulder wound had opened and bled slightly.

"Oh dear, your shoulder wound has re-opened!" she exclaimed. "Not too badly at least, it bled a little and has stopped," she continued, giving Boromir what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "But I'll need to change the dressing."

"Of course, Morloth," Boromir replied, clearly not as concerned as she was about the state of his wounds. In fact, he seemed rather pleased that she needed to sit on the bed next to him to re-bandage his shoulder; to fix it securely in place a bandage had to be wrapped over his shoulder and under his arm.

"Unfortunately, I have used all the athelas your friend Aragorn gave me, or I would apply it to the wound," she said, trying her best to maintain a professional demeanor. "I will have to ask the Warden if any more can be obtained."

As Morloth finished her work, a thought struck her. She looked up and caught Boromir's eyes, and said a little hesitantly, "Boromir, I have been wondering about Aragorn. There seems to be some mystery about him, and Gandalf mentioned his lineage as if it were important. I will understand if you cannot tell me," she quickly assured him. "But if you can, I would like to know his story."

"I can tell you," Boromir said easily, "as I matter of fact, I'd prefer that you know. But as I think you will understand once you hear the tale, it must go no further."

"Of course, Boromir."

Boromir paused for a moment, and instead of beginning an explanation, posed Morloth a question, "Tell me, Morloth, what did you think of him?"

At first taken aback by the query, Morloth replied, "What did I think of him? Well, one thing was certain, he was more than he seemed." She shook her head, "By his clothes you'd think he was a brigand, but a moment's conversation with him put that thought to rest, his manner was far too refined and courtly. Despite his ragged clothes, the jewels he wore and his weapons were of very fine quality. I trusted him almost immediately, and it was only later I realized how odd that was, given that I would normally have been more cautious." She glanced up and caught Boromir's eyes, "All in all," she concluded, "considering his height and coloring, I'd guess that he is of high Númenórean birth."

Boromir chuckled, "You are very perceptive, my lady." He held her gaze intently, "High, yes," he continued, "it could be no higher."

"What…what do you mean, Boromir? Your own house is among the most noble in Gondor, what could be higher than that, except…" her eyes widened, not quite ready to accept what he was implying.

Boromir nodded, "Yes, the line of kings. Aragorn is descended in direct line from Isildur, High King Elendil's son."

Morloth gasped, "Boromir, how can that be? Elendil's line died out a thousand years ago!"

"Here in the south, yes. But in the north it was preserved in secret by the Northern Dúnedain, even though the Northern Kingdom was lost long ago."

Morloth struggled to come to grips with the significance of this revelation, "But…that means he has a claim to the throne of Gondor!"

"Therein lies the problem, and the reason it is best that this is not discussed openly."

Thinking back to how pleased Boromir was that Aragorn had promised to come to Gondor, she deduced, "You would support his claim, but you are afraid your father would not."

Boromir snorted, "It is a near certainty that he would not. I'm not sure I would have if I had not traveled with Aragorn all those months and learned what kind of man he is."

Morloth shook her head in amazement, "When I think back to that moment when Aragorn hailed me by the riverbank, it is hard to credit how that one act changed my life so much; changed the world so much, at least for me."

Boromir smiled at her warmly and took her hand, "Changed for the better I hope, Morloth."

"Well, I could certainly live without the prospect of the city being besieged by thousands of orcs," she answered dryly, "but aside from that, yes, definitely for the better." She squeezed his hand, "Meeting you and getting to know you has surely been a pleasure, one that I would not willingly forego."

Boromir reached up and touched her face caressingly, his hand warm against her cheek. He murmured, "I cannot believe it is half the joy you have given me." He released her and lay back against the pillows, looking reflective.

Morloth realized with a start that she had never moved from her position on the bed back to her chair, but it seemed positively churlish to do so now. After all, he was being a perfect gentleman—he hadn't even tried to kiss her yet! She firmly suppressed the part of her that was a little disappointed that he hadn't, for Boromir was speaking to her again.

"My lady—Morloth—if I may ask, why did you decide to come with me to the city? Don't mistake me, I am thrilled beyond words that you did so, but when I asked you your reaction did not give me great cause for hope." He spoke gravely and his green eyes were intent on her face; it was obvious to her that he felt unsure of his ground.

Morloth paused to gather her thoughts, feeling somewhat embarrassed about how her decision was made. She smiled self-consciously, "I will tell you, but you must promise not to be too angry with Faramir, he did what he thought was right."

"Faramir? What does he have to do…" He groaned in comprehension, "He talked to you about me, didn't he?" Boromir's eyes, which had looked at her so warmly a few moments before, were now flashing in anger. "That…that little…brother!" he exclaimed. She could only imagine the words he had considered and discarded in an effort not to offend her. "He told me that he was going to ask if you needed someone to fetch things from your house!"

"He did, Boromir, he did," she said soothingly. She searched her mind, how best to explain it? "He…he also spoke to me about you…about us…because he loves you and he was…concerned."

"Concerned that I would hurt you, misuse you?" Boromir growled.

"No, no, he wanted to assure me that you would not! He told me that I could safely say 'no' if that was my wish."

Boromir crossed his arms and looked thunderous, "How very…helpful of him," he said tightly.

Morloth mustered her courage and met Boromir's eyes; under the surface anger she read uncertainty and a deep sadness that she hoped was not her doing. "Boromir," she said softly, "Faramir need not have worried, my hesitation was not because I was afraid to say 'no' to you, but…but because I was afraid to say 'yes'. From the day we first met I have never been afraid of you—who you are—but considering what you are asking of me, what you are, the Lord Steward's heir, frightens me very much."

Boromir's anger dissipated suddenly, like the wind going out of a sail. He sighed and looked away, "Oh, that."

Morloth took a deep breath and continued, "When I told Faramir that I was worried about that…that you are the Steward's heir and I am no one of account…"

A pained look crossed Boromir's face and he cried, "Morloth, no!"

She smiled at him reassuringly, "I know you do not think of me that way, Boromir. Faramir said it wouldn't matter to him or to you, but that it would matter to your father."

Boromir's face flushed, whether with anger or chagrin she was not certain, "He had no right to tell you that! I wanted to tell you myself, and I…I would have done so when the time was right. But how could I have told you at first without you thinking the worst of me?"

She caught his hand in hers and met his eyes, "Boromir, I understand that, I do! Please don't be angry with him, I am glad he told me. As a matter of fact, that is what helped me make my decision to come with you."

Boromir fell silent, staring at her with a look of mixed surprise and bafflement, "But…but if you were concerned that my position as the Steward's heir would be a barrier between us, why would learning that Father would object help you decide to come with me?"

Morloth felt a blush rising in her cheeks and she looked away, "I know it is not logical, and not at all sensible, but Faramir said that your father would object to any woman that was your own choice and not his. It made me so angry that he would treat you that way! Why should you be denied your heart's desire because of your father's spite or his need to control you?"

Boromir let out a bark of laughter and she found him gazing at her with a broad grin on his face, "Far be it from me to criticize decisions made in the heat of emotion rather than with cool reason; I have been known to do the same a time or two." His voice softened, "But however you came to decide that I was worthy of your trust, know that I am very grateful you have done so. I will do my utmost to insure that neither my father nor I give you cause to regret it."

"But I still don't understand something, Boromir," Morloth asked plaintively, "why me? Surely there are many women who are more beautiful and accomplished, and women that your father would consider more suitable for you. Why go through all this trouble and effort for me?"

Boromir snorted in amusement, "Well, my lady, for one thing you are one of the most quick-witted women I've ever met, and I find it particularly baffling that you don't—or won't—acknowledge how beautiful you are." He shook his head in exasperation, "Do you really not see what I and others see?"

"I…I don't know, Boromir. I have never thought of myself as beautiful. My sister Gilian was the pretty one—all my mother's friends said so. I was too tall, and ungainly; my mother despaired of teaching me to be graceful and womanly! And when I decided to train as a full healer—rather than something more appropriate like a midwife—that sealed it; there were dire predictions that I would die an old maid. Needless to say, it came as quite a shock when I caught Bregor's eye."

"Old biddies!" Boromir muttered scornfully.

"My father always told me I would grow into my beauty," she murmured, her voice breaking. Then she shrugged, struggling to regain her composure, "But he was my father. I thought he was trying to comfort me."

"No doubt he was, Morloth," Boromir said gently, "but I also think he was right. Surely Bregor…"

"Oh, Bregor was special," Morloth assured him with a quick smile. "Of course, he found me beautiful—or said he did—but he saw virtues in me that others could not."

Boromir gazed at her skeptically, "Faramir told me that several of the other Rangers would have been eager to court you after Bregor died if you had been willing to consider it."

She waved her hand dismissively, "They felt pity for my plight after Bregor was killed, and I'm sure they would have found it convenient to have a wife that was a trained healer, but it was nothing more than that."

He stared at her for a moment, mouth agape. "That…that is why you think they wanted you?" he asked, clearly astonished. Then he turned away, his face suffused with barely concealed laughter, his shoulders shaking.

"What…why are you laughing, Boromir?" she asked, feeling a little hurt.

Boromir regained control and turned to her, saying, "My pardon, Morloth, but I think you are giving the average member of my sex far more credit than they deserve if you think they were interested in you out of pity or even respect for your skills, as considerable as they are." He enfolded her hand in his, "However, if you truly believe that only someone as special as Bregor could appreciate your true beauty and your worth, I am content with that as long as you add me to that number."

"I…I can do that," she replied, suddenly feeling a little shy.

"But that does not answer your question completely, Morloth, though I do indeed think you are beautiful. As you have reason to know after my behavior in the cave, I am not by nature a thoughtful or introspective man," he said ruefully. "Though as a rule, Faramir is thoughtful enough for the both of us," he added with a chuckle. "But after you rejected me, I found that it…pained me to think that you were so dubious of my sincerity and my motives, though you had every right to be."

"I'm not sure I'd say that, Boromir," Morloth murmured.

"I would," he said frankly. "So for one of the few times in my life I gave thought to why I felt the way I did—why it mattered what you thought of me." He met her eyes, "In the end, I decided that it is because you…challenge me, Morloth, as no other woman has. You are neither awed by my title nor frightened by my temper. You are your own person, and will not pretend to be biddable because you think it is what I want."

"And that is what you truly want?" she asked in astonishment.

"Before I met you, I would not have thought so," he said with a wry smile, "but yes, I find that it is."

He reached up to caress her face and her heart began beating wildly, certain that he would pull her into his arms. Instead, he sighed and dropped his hand, "I have an early meeting with my father, so I'd best get some rest before then." Boromir met her eyes, "Perhaps we can meet after that—so you can check my wounds again," he added hastily.

"Oh, of course," she responded, a little surprised by this seemingly abrupt dismissal. "I'll be at the Houses of Healing, you can send a message if you need me." Not knowing what else to say, she murmured, "Goodnight, Boromir," and rose to leave.

Boromir caught her hand and brought it to his lips for a lingering kiss, "Until tomorrow…my lady." He released her hand and she felt his eyes on her back as she headed toward the door. She turned once to give him a tentative smile and found him watching her intently. Morloth closed the door behind her, both her mind and her heart filled with uncertainty.