In this chapter, Boromir and Denethor 'have words' over Faramir, and there's an entirely gratuitous scene between Boromir and Morloth—I can't have my readers forgetting that this is a romance as well! :-)

Chapter 19

Morloth's alarm did not extend to inaction, after a bare moment's hesitation she leaned close to the hobbit for a brief but intense conversation. Pippin listened attentively and nodded, his face set and resolved, before taking off like a hare for a side exit.

He had just disappeared from view when the door from the main ward was flung open with considerable force, and the Lord Steward entered, followed by two liveried guards, the Warden and an elderly man in healer gray.

"My lord," the Warden was protesting, "calm yourself, I beg you! There is no reason for concern, and I fear you will disturb our patients!"

The Steward gave a dismissive snort in reply, and his eyes locked on Morloth. She paled under his baleful gaze, and Imrahil could see that her hands were shaky slightly. "You!" he said accusingly. "How dare you keep my son from me? Where is Faramir?"

Despite her distress, she met his eyes resolutely, "That was never my intention, nor would it be for any healer in the Houses."

"Quite right," the Warden agreed. "It is as I said, my lord, your worries are entirely unfounded!"

"Lord Faramir is here, in my care," Morloth continued, "as are many other wounded from the recent battles. I would be happy to discuss his condition with you, my lord, if you wish."

Denethor gave her a contemptuous look before replying, "That is unnecessary; he is no longer in your care—he is coming with me. Warden, summon bearers to transport him to the Citadel."

"My lord!" the Warden remonstrated in an outraged tone.

"I would most strongly advise against that," Morloth said with a steely glint in her eyes. "He has an arrow in his arm that must be removed; it is lodged in the bone and it will be challenging to extract it without causing further damage. Moving him before that is done could endanger him to no purpose."

"Oh, and you claim that you are the only healer capable of this 'challenging task'?" the Lord Steward sneered. "I think not; Narion can do it," he added, gesturing toward the elderly healer who had accompanied him.

Narion stared at the Lord Steward, a look of alarm on his face, "Lord Denethor, battle wounds were never my specialty, and it has indeed been many years since I have removed an arrow. I have no doubt that you wish the best possible care for your son; the Lady Morloth is a skilled healer, and has had much more extensive experience in this area than I have. Would it not be wiser to let her tend your son, at least for the present?"

Denethor regarded Narion through narrowed eyes. "You also seek to thwart my will?" he hissed. "I tell you, I will not have it!"

Imrahil, taken aback by Denethor's intransigence, wondered whether his brother-in-law's true—if unstated—objection was to the lady herself and not to the care Faramir was likely to receive at her hands. He also began to be worried by the direction of the conversation, since Morloth was standing resolutely cross-armed in front of Faramir's door, and Denethor seemed equally determined to prevail.

He approached Denethor, who appeared to have just noticed his presence. "Denethor," he said soothingly, placing his hand lightly on the Steward's arm, "the healers are in agreement that it would be best for Faramir if he remains here for now. Surely it would do no harm to wait until the arrow has been removed to take him to the Citadel."

Denethor shook off his brother-in-law's hand and gave him a cold look, "Why are you here, Imrahil? This does not concern you," he said brusquely.

The Prince felt his face heat, "It was I who carried Faramir from the field of battle, and brought him here afterward. I could do no less for my own sister's son," he added evenly, struggling to keep his own temper in check.

Before Denethor could reply, another voice was heard, "And we are very grateful for your solicitude, Uncle." It was Boromir, striding briskly in the door from the ward with the halfing Pippin close behind. "Are we not, Father?" he demanded with an acid glance at the Steward.

Morloth relaxed, visibly relieved at his presence, and gave him a welcoming smile which was warmly returned.

"Yes, of course," Denethor replied sourly, sounding not the least grateful, or pleased with his elder son's intervention. "Be that as it may," he continued in a hard voice, "My son belongs with me. Warden, I will need men to carry him to the Citadel."

"My lord," the Warden sputtered, "surely not!"

Morloth gave Boromir a look of mute appeal, but from the expression on his nephew's face Imrahil could tell it was not necessary.

"Father!" Boromir said sharply, glaring down at his father. "If you will not defer to the healers' judgment in this matter, I insist that you speak to me—alone." His eyes never leaving the Steward, he asked quietly, "Morloth, is there someone nearby that we may discuss this in private?"

"Of…of course, Boro—my lord. Several of the rooms on this corridor are unoccupied. You may use any of them."

Denethor's jaw tightened, but he muttered, "Very well then," in agreement, though with no good grace.

His son turned to Imrahil and smiled, "Thank you for your assistance, Uncle. You both have been in the saddle all day; I'm sure you'd like an opportunity to rest and break your fast."

"I must confess that would be quite welcome," Imrahil sighed. He met his nephew's eyes, "You know where to find me if you need me."

Boromir nodded, "Indeed I do." He clasped arms with both his uncle and cousin, "Again, thank you both. Hopefully Faramir will be ready for visitors soon."

"I will pray that it is so," the Prince said earnestly. He nodded toward the Steward, and murmured, "Your servant, Denethor," in a cool voice before departing.

-ooo-

Morloth showed the Boromir and his father to an empty room near Faramir's, and as soon as the door closed behind her, the Steward rounded on his son.

"I know what you want—to let that woman of yours tend Faramir," he sneered. "As if I would consent to such a thing!"

"The healers agree that it would be best if he stayed—you would let your petty hatred endanger him?" Boromir snorted contemptuously, "I should have expected no less from the man who sent him on the fool's errand that nearly cost him his life. You are the reason he lies wounded—why should I give you another opportunity to finish what you have started?"

"Because he is my son, and now I clearly see that he is my only true, loyal son!" Denethor thundered. "'Wizard's pupil' I called him, never suspecting that you, my favored son, my heir, would be the one to betray me to that cursed wizard!"

"Don't speak to me of betrayal, old man," Boromir countered, his voice hard. "I have ever been loyal to you and to Gondor, and you have repaid that trust with treachery, simply because I wished to protect my brother from your mad schemes. No more!" he cried, his eyes blazing. "Time and time again you have worked to divide us, striven to make us rivals for your affection. You could not separate us then and you will not now. You will not take Faramir from me!"

Denethor shook his head, "See how the wizard has twisted your mind—you believe that I am capable of harming your brother." His voice changed, his tone pleading, "It is not too late, son, for the three of us to be a family again, and for you to prove your loyalty to me. Mithrandir and that woman have filled your head with lies…"

Boromir stared at his father scornfully, "They name you far-seeing and wise, but you know nothing of your own son. Twice Mithrandir's intervention has saved Faramir's life and countless others while you sit locked in the tower lost in your own imaginings. I judge by actions, Father, and yours have been found wanting."

For a moment Denethor's face worked with barely concealed fury. "You dare!" he cried. He reined in his anger and his face closed, "No matter. I am his father, and I command here. You cannot gainsay me."

Boromir straightened and met his father's eyes coolly, "I can and I will. Faramir stays here, in Morloth's care, or Uncle Imrahil and the rest of the Council will learn of your treatment of me and your other…questionable activities."

Denethor snorted derisively, "You know nothing; you can prove nothing."

"Indeed?" Boromir asked, one eyebrow raised, "How many of your lackeys know that I was carried senseless from your quarters? Are you certain none of them could be persuaded to tell what they know to save their own skins? There is also Mithrandir, who found me in drugged sleep when I was last seen going to your quarters. You may despise him, but he is widely trusted and respected, especially after his actions of the last few days. His word will not be lightly dismissed."

"That is not enough to discredit me," his father said dismissively.

Boromir shrugged, "By itself, perhaps not. But coupled with your other peculiar actions in recent days: your unwillingness to summon aid from Rohan, the hours you spend locked in the tower, speaking to no one while men fight and die for you… People will begin to wonder, and question," he leaned close to his father's ear, "and whisper that all is not what it should be, that the Steward has been acting very strangely of late. I think you will find many ready to believe."

"Curse you!" Denethor cried. "You would threaten your own father?"

"If I must to protect my brother, without hesitation," Boromir replied calmly. "Now you know the price for my silence—Faramir stays with me, cared for here, and you will not attempt to move him again." He met his father's eyes, "What say you?"

Denethor gazed at his son for a long moment, then growled, "Keep your brother then, but you will regret making me your enemy."

Boromir chuckled mirthlessly, "I said precisely that when I awoke yesterday and realized what you had done to me."

His father made a disgusted noise swept out of the room without another word. He passed through the corridor beyond with a single scornful look at Morloth and stormed away with his guards in his wake, leaving Morloth and Boromir alone.

Morloth stared at Boromir, eyes wide, "He…he is gone? He is not taking Faramir?" At Boromir's weary nod, she rushed to embrace him, "You have done it, Boromir! Oh, am I so relieved!"

Boromir gratefully pulled her close, "Yes, it is done." He sighed, "I hope that the price will not prove to be too high."

"Price?" Morloth asked, bewildered. "What do you mean?"

He smiled reassuringly at her, "I will explain later, dear lady. How is Faramir?" he asked anxiously.

"His condition is unchanged." She shook her head, "It is fortunate we can now proceed with the arrow extraction, I was concerned it would be further delayed if your father prevailed." She met his eyes, "He will need to be held still while I work; the aides can assist, they are accustomed to such tasks. But I also believe you may also be of help, for it may soothe him to hear your voice."

"Of course, Morloth, when do you want to begin?"

"Immediately, if possible. I had him prepared while you were speaking to your father." She hesitated a moment, then laid a hand on Boromir's arm, "There is something you should see, the aide found it when undressing Faramir." She handed a piece of parchment to him then added, "It is a message from you…it seems ordinary enough, but he obviously thought it was important since it was tucked inside his tunic."

A glance told Boromir that it was what he suspected—the note he had sent Faramir the day before. He tried to keep his features even, but Morloth was not deceived.

"What is it, Boromir, is something wrong?" she asked anxiously.

"Oh no, nothing of that sort," he murmured in reply. He felt his face heat, "You'll think it foolish, but when I replied to a report from Faramir I signed it with a special symbol, one he should recognize from our childhood." He showed her the bear glyph and added sheepishly, "I wanted to assure him that I didn't and wouldn't abandon him, though it might have seemed that I had."

Morloth smiled, "I don't think it the least bit foolish, Boromir! Faramir must have recognized it and understood what you meant, for he kept the note close to his heart."

"I just hope he can find a way to forgive me for failing him, however unintentionally," Boromir said glumly.

"I would not be surprised if he has forgiven you already," she said reassuringly. "He knows that you love him."

With that, she led him into Faramir's room and showed him how he could assist her. Two burly aides joined them to hold Faramir still while Morloth did what was needed. As she predicted, Boromir's presence seemed to help; his brother thrashed and cried out when Morloth began probing for the arrowhead, but quieted when Boromir held his hand and spoke soothingly to him.

A half-glass later it was done and Boromir was examining the arrowhead. "This looks like a Southron bolt," he told Morloth. "Do you think it might be poisoned? The Haradrim scum are known for that."

Morloth shook her head, "It's too early to know for certain, but I've seen no sign of it. We'll keep an eye on the wound it case it festers, but if it doesn't, Faramir should awaken soon."

"Thank you, dear lady," Boromir said, smiling warmly at her. "I will leave him in your capable hands for now." He sighed, "The siege has begun in earnest now so my time will not be my own, but I will come to see him—and you—as often as I can."

She met his eyes, her face troubled, "Boromir, before you go, could you explain what you meant earlier when you said that you hoped the price for keeping Faramir here would not be too high?"

He glanced around warily, and though they were alone, he pulled her into the empty room that he and Denethor had used for their conversation earlier. "I…I made a choice, and I pray that it was the correct one," he told her, rubbing his eyes distractedly. "But I do not see how I could have made any other!"

"What is it, Boromir?" she asked apprehensively, catching his hand in hers.

"I told my father that unless he left Faramir here, in your care, I would reveal to my uncle and others on the Council that he dosed me with the sleeping draught, and about his other questionable activities." Boromir's shoulders slumped, "As you can see it worked as I had wished, but it means as long as he abides by our agreement I cannot in good conscience use his actions as evidence against him, no matter how irrationally he behaves. And what's worse, I gave my word to Imrahil that if we survive the siege I would tell him what has happened between my father and myself. How can I do that now without being foresworn?

"By Eru, there was no good choice in this! It tears my heart to admit it, but after these last few days I simply do not trust my father with Faramir's life or well-being. If he disappeared into the Citadel in my father's 'care', I greatly fear I would have never seen him alive again."

Boromir chuckled ruefully, "The final irony is that although I would have done as I threatened and told my uncle about Father's treatment of me if hadn't agreed to leave Faramir with us, I am far from confident that would be enough to discredit my father. Uncle Imrahil would believe me and support me, of that I am certain, but the other members of the Steward's Council have never shown much backbone when it comes to opposing my father's will. But I know my father hates having his word questioned, and as I hoped the suggestion that there might be inquiries into his actions of late was enough to make him acquiesce."

"Boromir," Morloth began hesitantly. "I did not tell you this before since speaking about your father's treatment of you upsets you so, but I found something that might be of help to you—a page from the restricted potions log." She met his eyes, "It seems that Narion, your father's healer, signed out a dose of sleeping draught on the very day that you left to speak to the Steward about Faramir's orders to retake Osgiliath."

He stared at her, eyes wide, then swore under his breath before pulling her into his arms, "Morloth, you are a wonder! It still may not be enough to convince all of the Council, but that is evidence my father will find difficult to refute, especially if Narion is willing to admit he acquired the potion at Father's request."

"I think he may be, Boromir; both his behavior today and the fact that he signed the log at all suggest that he did not know how it was to be used, and has not been taken into your father's confidence on these matters."

Boromir sighed, "I still cannot use it while Father keeps to our agreement, but it heartens me to know that such proof exists." His voice softened and he caught Morloth's chin in his hand, "But enough of my father's schemes for now. I am glad we have this time together; such moments of pleasure have been far too rare of late. Morloth, I…I cannot forsee whether Gondor will survive the next few days, we can only endure and pray that Rohan comes to our aid."

"When might they come?" Morloth asked leaning against Boromir's chest for comfort.

He shrugged, "If nothing has delayed them, tomorrow at the earliest. But it could be days or not at all; no word has reached us from Rohan since the beacons were lit. However, a courier could have been intercepted by the enemy, so that may mean nothing.

"But come what may, I want you to know, dear lady, that if there is a future for Minas Tirith there will be a future for the two of us as well. I love you, Morloth, and my father will not separate us; that I vow."

"I love you too, Boromir," Morloth whispered. "I…I am sorry I have not said so before now."

Boromir's lips quirked into a smile, but his eyes were alight with joy, "Am I that hard to love, my lady?"

Morloth snorted in amusement, "You are all too easy to love, Boromir, as you are well aware." Her voice fell, "After Bregor died I was so certain that I would never love again that I…I think it frightened me to realize how much you mean to me."

"You, the lady who just defied my ogre of a father?" he scoffed, his face merry. "No, as is the case too often, you fail to give yourself the credit you deserve." His hand cradled her chin and he bent to kiss her.

"I'm not frightened now, Boromir!" she said in exasperation, though no one could mistake the affection in her voice. She twined her hands around his neck and their lips met for a long and lingering kiss.

Boromir released her reluctantly, "That must sustain me for now, I fear. But take heart, my love, now that I have found you, not even the Dark Lord can keep us apart for long."