The confrontation between Denethor and Aragorn may not be quite as dramatic as some of you expected, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless - this is the outcome that seemed right to me. FYI, Boromir's memory of Thorongil was inspired by a really beautiful illustration by Catherine Chmiel showing Ecthelion, Thorongil and Boromir as a very young boy. It's posted on 'the one ' as well as other sites so you can probably find it if you search.

You're very likely going to hate me for the end of the chapter-sorry!

Chapter 28

Beside her, Morloth heard Boromir gasp at the name 'Thorongil'. When she glanced his way, she saw that his eyes were wide and his face pale.

"No!" he exclaimed softly.

She vaguely recalled the same name mentioned by her father many years before, but she did not understand why hearing it now affected Boromir so strongly.

Denethor continued speaking to Aragorn, his eyes hard, "And now you come here, claiming another name as your own…"

Aragorn glanced at Boromir and sighed, "It is my own, my lord, and I think you understand why I felt it necessary to use another when last I was in Gondor."

"So it is true? You kept this from me?" Boromir asked, clearly shaken by the revelation. Before Aragorn could respond he turned to his Uncle Imrahil, who had followed his father out of Faramir's room, demanding, "Did you know this?"

To Morloth's eyes, Imrahil looked as shocked by the news as Boromir. He shook his head, "I swear I did not, Boromir. My father knew Thorongil well and greatly admired him, but I was left behind to rule Dol Amroth in his stead when he traveled to the city. I have seen Thorongil once from afar, that is all."

Denethor snorted derisively, "Now do you see, my son, how foolish it would be to trust the fate of Gondor to such a man?"

Boromir stiffened at his father's gibe, "All I have heard tell of Thorongil is that he was an honorable man and a skilled commander, and I know that of Aragorn as well."

"You would take his word over that of your own father?" Denethor sputtered indignantly.

Boromir met his father's eyes steadily, "When one man tries to kill my brother and the other heals him, it is not difficult to decide which one has earned my trust."

"You blind fool!" Denethor hissed in reply. He rounded on Aragorn, "I should kill you where you stand for what you have done! He may stand idly by while the House of Húrin is supplanted, but I can assure you I will not!" Denethor lunged toward the ranger, a wild gleam in his eyes, but before he could come too near Imrahil grasped his arm in a firm grip and Boromir stepped between his father and Aragorn.

"You will do nothing!" Boromir growled, his face hard.

"The Council will hear of this outrage!" Denethor cried, eye-to-eye with his son.

Boromir glanced away and sighed heavily, "No doubt." He turned to address Imrahil, "Uncle, I believe it is time for Father to return to his suite. Would you be so kind as to escort him there?"

"Of course, Boromir," Imrahil replied. "Come along, Denethor."

The former Steward did not protest, but made a disgusted noise before sweeping imperiously out of room.

"My pardon, Aragorn;" Boromir said formally, "my father wished to see Faramir and I could not in good conscience refuse—as long as he was suitably supervised, of course," he added, a note of bitterness in his voice. "He is not a prisoner, after all."

"Please, do not apologize, Boromir," Aragorn said, his eyes bleak. "I see now that I erred in not telling you sooner that I served with your grandfather under another name."

"Then why did you not?" Boromir asked, his eyes intent on Aragorn's face.

Aragorn passed a hand over his face, and said wearily, "It was nearly 40 years ago, Boromir, and you had barely begun to walk when I left. I had no reason to think that you would remember, and given your father's feelings toward me, it seemed wiser to not bring it up."

Boromir snorted, "I think you underestimate how…memorable 'Thorongil' was, Aragorn. My grandfather spoke of you often in his last years, and many of the older soldiers told tales of your deeds."

Aragorn shook his head, "That may be." A little hesitantly, he reached out and laid his hand on Boromir's shoulder. "I can only say again that I am sorry if learning of this caused you pain. On my honor, it was never my intent to deceive you."

After a moment, Boromir gave him a bare nod, "Thank you, Aragorn. What will you do now?"

"I had thought to see if any more patients could use my assistance. That is, of course, if I am still welcome here. I would understand if I was not."

Boromir waved a hand dismissively, "I am not so foolish as to refuse aid to our wounded because of my bruised feelings or Father's spite. Of course you are welcome; any aid you can give would be greatly appreciated."

"The Warden would know which patients most urgently need your assistance, Aragorn," Morloth interjected.

"I will speak to him immediately," Aragorn responded. "Good night to you both."

After the ranger departed Boromir pulled Morloth close; she suspected he was still upset by what he had learned about Aragorn and needed the comfort of her touch. "What is it, Boromir?" she inquired gently. "I can see that something still troubles you."

He smoothed the hair back from her face and smiled, "You know me too well, dear lady. It's…it's just that I am hurt that Aragorn did not inform me of this, but reason tells me that I have no cause to feel so! I was a tiny child when he was here as Thorongil, and I truly know nothing but good of the man. Except from my father," he added glumly, "who preferred not to speak of him at all." He shook his head, "But all that time we spent travelling together; the perils that we shared… I cannot help but feel that he could have told me… That he should have told me. I know he has done nothing worthy of censure, but still…"

"Give it time, Boromir. I think the hurt will lessen when you recover from the shock of finding out as you did," Morloth said soothingly.

Boromir sighed and held her tighter, "I know."

After a moment, Morloth asked, "Do you know why your father disliked Thorongil so?"

Boromir shrugged, "Not with any certainty. Even as a child it struck me as odd; everyone else had only praise for the man. I even asked my mother why once, and she told me that I'd understand when I was older. Whatever it was, it saddened her; I remember the expression on her face."

"Do you understand, now that you're older?" Morloth asked gently.

He blew out a long breath, "I suspect that my grandfather showed too much admiration for someone who was in my father's eyes an unwelcome stranger with ambitions above his station. It is likely he felt that Thorongil had taken his place in my grandfather's heart, but he might also have guessed something of Aragorn's lineage. Thorongil disappeared abruptly after his great victory in Umbar; why has always been a mystery. Perhaps he knew he was the cause of strife between my father and grandfather—it was certainly not the act of a man ambitious for power; he would have been given a hero's welcome had he returned to Gondor."

Boromir looked thoughtful, "You may find it hard to credit, Morloth, but I have a dim memory that I think may be of Thorongil. I remember being in the garden with my grandfather and another man, tall and dark-haired. He picked me up and set me on his knee, and I recall that the clasp on his cloak was shaped like a star…" Boromir's eyes widened suddenly and he uttered an oath before saying, "A pin just like those worn by the Rangers in his Company—I am a fool not to have seen it before!"

"Boromir, it was a child's memory from forty years ago! It is not reasonable to expect yourself to have known Aragorn was Thorongil based on something so vague."

"I suppose you're right, Morloth," Boromir replied, looking a least a bit comforted.

She met his eyes, "Boromir, is your father likely to make trouble for you over this?"

"I think it likely he will try," Boromir told her dryly. "But since Aragorn has made no claim to the kingship as of yet, there is little he can do. Thorongil's success at Umbar is considered by many to be Gondor's finest victory in the last half-century; despite Father's ill will, I doubt his return will be greeted with dismay."

"That's one less thing to worry you, then," Morloth said. "You should try to get some rest, Boromir, I imagine you'll have much to do tomorrow."

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, "Yes, Gandalf wants me to call a meeting of the commanders to discuss what should be done next. I am tired, but I'm not ready to go to my bed just yet—I'd like to sit with Faramir a bit longer." He gave her a crooked smile, "Care to join me, my lady?"

"I…I suppose I could do that," she said a little hesitantly, but when he took her hand she followed him into his brother's room.

Faramir stirred and opened his eyes when they entered, "I heard raised voices, Boromir," he said, fighting sleep. "What was Father angry about?"

Boromir and Morloth exchanged a look; Boromir replied, "Nothing you should concern yourself about tonight, Fara. We'll have a long talk in the morning."

"I'll hold you to that, Boromir," Faramir said which he punctuated with a wide yawn. Moments later he was asleep, and Boromir and Morloth made themselves comfortable in seats near his bedside.

-ooo-

Boromir woke slowly, drawn out of slumber by familiar voices, one of which was trying—and failing—to speak quietly. It took a moment for him to orient himself; he was in a chair by Faramir's bedside, with one arm around Morloth as she leaned against him, fast asleep as well.

"He has to be nearby," the gruff, louder voice said, sounding exasperated. "That Warden fellow said his brother's room is here."

A quieter, more melodious voice responded, but Boromir could not hear what was said.

"I am being quiet, you dratted elf!" the first voice exclaimed. Now the speakers sounded as if they were right outside Faramir's door.

Boromir had just cleared his sleep-muddled mind enough to recognize who the two must be when the gruff voice chuckled, "Well, well, what have we here, Legolas?"

He looked up to see two well-known figures framed in the partially open door; one tall and blond, the other short, stocky and bearded. He grinned despite his irritation at being awakened, how he had missed these two! Boromir eased Morloth's head off his arm and onto the back of her chair, doing his best not to awaken her as well.

Boromir shook his head and tried vainly to look stern as he approached Legolas and Gimli. "It's past time you two showed up," he growled genially. "I was beginning to think that Aragorn had mislaid you!"

Gimli beamed as he approached. "Boromir, laddie, how good it is to see you again, and so strong and fit as well!" he exclaimed, giving Boromir a rib-cracking hug that made him wince in pain. "Aragorn told us he had spoken to you, but we had to see you with our own eyes!"

When the dwarf released him, Legolas stepped forward with a warm smile, clasping arms with the Gondorian.

But before the elf could speak, Gimli continued, bushy eyebrows raised in amusement, "As for being late, you may not have noticed, but you had a wee bit of an orc problem outside your gates. We felt it would be a good turn to help you with it, and besides," he said, his voice lowering conspiratorially, "I had to prove to the elf here, once and for all, that I am his better when it comes to orc killing. Which I most certainly am," he added in a decided tone, glancing sidelong at his friend.

"Simply repeating that at every opportunity does not make it any more true," Legolas noted acerbically. "But I too am gratified to see you so well, my friend." His eyes met Boromir's, "It truly grieved us to leave you so terribly wounded, and we only did so because the hobbits were in such peril."

"I understand, Legolas, and do not fault your choice in the least. Think no more of it." Boromir assured him.

"Speaking of leaving you, Boromir, isn't that the lass that agreed to care for you when we left?" Gimli gestured to the still sleeping Morloth, who was visible through the partially open door to Faramir's room.

"Er…yes," Boromir told him, feeling his face heat, suspecting that they seen enough to discern how matters were between himself and Morloth.

Legolas raised an eloquent eyebrow and smiled, confirming his suspicions.

"We hoped we were leaving you in good hands," Gimli said drolly, elbowing Boromir in the ribs, "but little did we suspect how good!"

Before he could respond, he heard Morloth's sleepy voice, "Boromir?"

He entered Faramir's room and took her hand, saying softly, "Sorry to awaken you, my dear, but some old friends have arrived. Please, come meet them."

Boromir brought her out to where two friends were waiting. "Morloth, you may remember Legolas and Gimli."

It was immediately apparent to Boromir that Morloth was not easy with the situation she found herself in, and her discomfort only heightened when Gimli grinned at her and said, "Well, lassie, Boromir's health and spirits have improved dramatically since we left, and it seems that we have you to thank." He gave her a knowing look, bushy eyebrows raised, that caused her to blush.

"It was no bother, I was glad to help," Morloth stammered.

"Ha!" Gimli snorted, "Remember that we traveled with this lout for many months, we know how troublesome he can be. Snores like…"

"Gimli!" Legolas, hissed, noting that Morloth seemed increasingly embarrassed by the direction of the conversation.

"What?" the dwarf asked, bewildered.

"I…I have patients I must attend to," Morloth said quickly. "Please excuse me," she added, dropping a quick curtsey before hurrying toward the ward.

"Hmph, more skittish than I remembered," Gimli said, watching her retreating back.

Boromir and Legolas exchanged an exasperated glance at Gimli's lack of discretion, but Boromir also wondered why indeed Morloth had been so disturbed by the dwarf's remarks.

Resolving to speak to her at the first opportunity, he turned to the two friends, "I believe there are some hobbits who would like to see you. Shall I take you to Merry's room?"

They agreed enthusiastically with this plan and he led them away.

-ooo-

Deciding to speak to Morloth at the first opportunity proved to be easier than putting that plan into action; Boromir could find Morloth in none of her usual haunts the next morning.

In frustration, he pressed Beregond for information. "She did not accompany me this morning, my lord," the guardsman explained, "I believe she is not due back to the Houses until close to midday." He shrugged, "She may have gone to visit Cirlan, I know she has not seen him in several days."

Boromir was vaguely disgruntled she had not told him her plans, though he could certainly not fault her for wanting to see her son. But if truth be told, he was both eager and nervous to see her again. Now that the immediate danger from Mordor was past he was feeling some urgency to settle matters between them. However, at Gandalf's urging he had called a council of war leaders for an hour past midday to consider their next actions, which made his search all the more urgent.

To Beregond's barely concealed amusement and the consternation of the other healers, Boromir found himself haunting her ward awaiting her arrival. When she finally did appear, Boromir had been called away to deal with some urgent—and petty—matter, and found her fully engaged with her patients on his return. Consequently, it was only shortly before the hour that the council was scheduled to begin that he was finally able to speak to her alone.

All the private rooms in the Houses were full, so he led her to an unoccupied meeting chamber nearby. "Boromir," she protested in a low voice, "this is not at all wise. I fear that the other healers suspect there is something between us. Behaving in this way will only confirm their suspicions."

"I know, and I am sorry for that, my love. But I have little time; we will be soon deciding what our next actions will be in war against Sauron, and I felt I must speak to you first. I know too," Boromir went on, clasping her hand in both of his, "that it disturbed you that Legolas and Gimli discerned how I feel for you. But thankfully," he said, smiling warmly, "that is a problem easily solved."

Morloth stiffened and pulled her hand from his grasp. "I…I understand, Boromir, that it would not be suitable for our relationship to become generally known." She turned away, her face pale, "Once Faramir is well there will be no reason for us to spend time together, and the rumors will die down eventually."

Boromir stared at her in surprise, 'What? You…you think I want to stop seeing you?" He turned her so she faced him again cupped her chin in his hand. "Morloth, no, that's not at all what I meant!" He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but his heart was beating furiously in his chest. "Morloth, my lady…my love, I want you to marry me. If we are betrothed none of the whispers will matter. But more importantly, I love you with all my heart and there is nothing I want more in this world than for you to be my wife and the mother of my children."

To Boromir's dismay, Morloth pulled away from him as if horrified by his proposal. She stared at him in silence for a moment and before gasping, "Oh, no, Boromir." She turned away, her face a mask of misery and she cried, "You know I cannot marry you and you must not ask me."

At first he was too shocked to respond; it felt as if all the air had left his body. He stared at her in confusion, "I know nothing of the sort, Morloth! Surely this was not a surprise; I have declared my love for you, it would be dishonorable not to declare my intentions as well!"

"I never thought you would be so foolish as to actually propose, Boromir!" She glanced up at him briefly, her eyes glinting with tears. "I…I know you are trying to behave honorably, but you should consider yourself released from any obligation to me."

"I don't feel obliged, I love you!" Thoroughly baffled and heartsick, he reached toward her and said beseechingly, "Morloth, I…I don't understand. Why won't you marry me?"

"I cannot!" Morloth repeated. She burst into tears and ran from the room, the door banging closed behind her.