Disclaimer: LOTR belongs to the creative genius of JRR Tolkien, not me.

Chapter 12

Noonday sunlight filtered through the canopy overhead, and cast dappled shadows on the ground below, except for where the occasional slender shaft found its path unobstructed by a gap in the leaves. One such beam streamed into the open window of the talan, bathing the face of the sleeping man with warmth that became uncomfortable when sweat began to form on his brow. The droplets of moisture that trickled down the sides of his face roused Boromir from his rest and as he slowly opened his eyes, he was forced to squint until he became accustomed to the glare.

Conscious of the dull ache in behind his eyes, Boromir slowly shook his head slightly to dislodge the annoying beads of sweat and was immediately thankful he had not attempted a more strenuous movement. His feeling of well being, thanks to a slumber undisturbed by either dream or nightmare, as Aragorn had promised, apparently did not extend to his weary body

Anxiety and uncertainty briefly flashed through Boromir's mind as he sat up a little and looked around intending to thank his friend for the sleeping draught only to unexpectedly find himself alone. Surely he had not merely imagined Aragorn’s presence, his healing touch, nor the sound of Legolas’s silvery laughter. Boromir breathed a heavy sigh of relief, the sight of the familiar bow and quiver lying next to the travel packs on the unmade, but definitely slept in bed over near the window were proof enough that his memories were real.

Now perspiring from the effort it cost him to move, as well as the noonday heat, Boromir reached for the damp facecloth he saw on the nightstand, groaning in agony when he stretched too far. Haldir, who had just entered the talan carrying a jar of freshly prepared salve and some clean bandages moved quickly to the bedside and took the cloth from Boromir's hand.

“Let me do that my friend, you should not be moving about so,” he scolded gently, indicating that Boromir should rest back against the pillows. Acknowledging the concern in Haldir’s voice, the man complied with the unspoken request and smiled reassuringly.

“ I admit I feel somewhat tired, and these arrow wounds ache a little, but no more so than any of my past battle injuries.”

“ I know of what you speak, but the pain is good sign that you are beginning to heal properly, so our healers tell me when I am in their care.”

“Do you mean to tell me the great march warden has not always left the battlefield unscathed?” Boromir asked as Haldir settled him onto the pillows, his affectionate smile indicated he was merely teasing. “I find that difficult to believe,” he added with the sincere admiration and respect he held for the skills of the warriors of the Golden Wood of whom he was certain Haldir was the best.

“Even the most skilful, most courageous, most honourable warrior, Man or Elf, can fall victim to the weapons, words or the will of a more powerful enemy.” The unspoken meaning was not lost on Boromir and he wondered how it was that Haldir came to have so much faith in him.

“Your words mean a great deal to me, as does your regard, but if truth were told all is not yet as it should be Haldir. A vague echo of the shadow lingers still, and, if this is, as I suspect it may well be, what Faramir is also feeling, I must go to him, help him through his own dark times. My brother needs me, and regardless of whether I am received by others with good or bad grace, had I not already decided to return home, I would have done so now. ” Haldir nodded and grasped Boromir’s hand in the manner of warriors, understanding and respect glittering in the ageless eyes that held the mortal’s glance.

“As you need him to help you,“ Haldir voiced the words Boromir had left unsaid.

“Aye.”

“You are an honourable man, and a loving brother, Boromir of Gondor. I am proud to call you friend.”

“And I am equally proud to call you the same, Haldir of Lothlorien. Speaking of friends, where is Aragorn?” Boromir asked as he settled back to allow Haldir to perform the task of changing his bandages.

“He and Legolas decided it was well past time they bathed. Orophin has taken them to the hot springs, and then I believe they intend to explore some of the ruins before the evening meal. Aragorn is understandably curious about his ancestors.”

“As well the King should be,” Boromir replied, sighing wistfully, his mind not on the remains of Amon Hen, the bathing pool. There was no mistaking the envy in his voice so Haldir up his hand to silence his friend before he could ask for what he would be denied.

“Aragorn says you are to wait until your wounds are properly healed before you may bathe, at least in the springs. However, if you feel well enough, Rumil has prepared the tub we made for you when you first came to us.”

For many weeks after he was rescued from the Falls Boromir had been barely able to sit, much less stand and since cleanliness was a necessity, Rumil and Orophin had devised a bathing tub of sorts. It was only a small round wooden tub, shallow enough to permit the Elves to easily lift the injured man in and out, but deep enough to allow some modesty. Boromir had at first been uncomfortable with the idea of needing assistance to undress and bathe, but his unease had quickly disappeared in the wake of the respect for his privacy he was afforded, not to mention his own physical weakness due to his injuries. The water barely covered his hips, but certainly offered more dignity than was to be had by being washed while lying in bed.

“An offer I shall not refuse,” Boromir replied, reaching for Haldir’s outstretched arm and using his friend’s’ elvish strength to gain his feet.

Clean, refreshed and thoroughly exhausted from his bathing but not ready to return to his sick bed, Boromir was pleased to find that Haldir was willing to allow him to sit outside on the balcony. Rumil had prepared a light meal that the three of them enjoyed as they relaxed in the cooling shade of the afternoon. Conversation flowed easily between the friends, but more than once Boromir was unable to stifle a yawn and when Rumil commented how pale his friend was looking, Haldir decided it was time for his patient to take some rest.

“I believe that would be wise, I must regain my strength so that I can join you all for the evening meal. I have missed doing so, ” a rapidly tiring Boromir commented.

“If you remain unwell Orophin and I will visit you later tonight,” Rumil promised. Taking Boromir‘s other arm, the two Elves escorted the man to his talan and helped him into bed.

Haldir was not surprised to see Boromir fall asleep as soon as he was settled. Satisfied that he was sleeping soundly, and was unlikely to be disturbed by dreams, the Elf decided to go for a short walk. Although he had not spoken of his thoughts to anyone, he was convinced that Aragorn’s timely arrival was more than just good fortune, and that Elros was in some way responsible.

“My aid was but part of the many forces at work to prevent an untimely death. Rest assured he will recover in time.”

Familiar with the many strange gifts some Elves posses, the lady Galadriel in particular Haldir accepted the assurance, and Elros’s presence without question. It seemed the issue of Boromir’s ill health was resolved, as would be his perceived uselessness as a soldier due to his physical limitations in the near future. Or at least it would be resolved as soon as he became was well enough to resume his rigorous training exercises. It would certainly take time and patience, but if he was nothing else, Boromir was proud and stubborn.

"Indeed he is, does he not remind you of someone else.” The ghostly voice came from behind, and Haldir turned to face the misty form of Elros .

“Aye, Elrond’s capacity for patience was matched only by yours for stubbornness as I recall.“ Haldir agreed, his mind travelling back to a time long ago when he had spent much of his time carrying messages between Beleriand and Doriath. On one such occasion the message he had delivered had been to confirm his appointment as sword master for the sons of Earendil. Although Haldir’s weapon of choice was the bow, he was equally adept with the sword, and that was what would be needed in the battles to come.

“He was certainly more willing to spend time perfecting those boring training moves, and to use the wooden practice swords until he had mastered them,” Elros agreed, the tone of his voice indicating his own dissatisfaction with Haldir’s training methods.

“Whereas you were not content to develop your skills in that manner, preferring to constantly challenge me to allow you to fight with swords that would draw blood. That is until you learned your lesson,” Haldir said, reminding his former student of the last time Elros had practiced with his brother. Both had been gifted with swords for their coming of age and against his better judgement, Haldir had agreed to allow a mock battle between the brothers so that they could gain a feel for the handling of their new weapons.

Unfortunately, word of the contest created much interest, and many wagers were laid on the outcome. When the prideful Elros learned that most of the experienced warriors considered Elrond to be by far the better swordsman, he was more determined than ever to win. Elrond confided in Haldir that he was concerned that no matter how careful he intended to be to avoid causing his brother injury, he had no doubt Elros would like as not do something reckless to keep from losing. Haldir had no doubts in that regard either, but despite his best efforts to prevent it, the contest went ahead.

For much of the time, the two were really evenly matched, but whereas Elrond’s moves were well thought out in advance, Elros simply seemed to strike out blindly, hoping to catch his opponent off guard. When Elrond drew the first blood, Elros was furious and fought back so fiercely that Elrond had no choice but to defend himself as well as he could. Elros managed to inflict a few small cuts, but the fight ended abruptly when Elrond saw the blood on his blade and Elros’s eyes widening as he looked down and saw the deep gash on his chest.

“Aye, not only was I stubborn, but too proud to admit that Elrond was far more skilled than I. I still have the scar to prove it, and the memory of Elrond‘s angry words ringing in my ears. Never before had I seen my brother so enraged and upset, and I will always regret the unpleasantness it caused between us for some time after. I also learned that Elrond can be a stubborn as I am when he chooses, his forgiveness was not easily earned, and I suspect he still he blames me for your refusal to teach us after that day,” he added ruefully.

“I saw that the lessons were at an end, no longer needed by two such skilled swordsmen. There is no blame on your part, and should I see him before he sails, I will tell Elrond so,” Haldir reassured Elros, watching with alarm as the ghostly figure began to coalesce into the evening mist that was just now rising from the forest floor.

“Thank you, my friend and farewell,” The distant voice could barely be heard as it faded into the night.

“Farewell, my Lord Elros,” Haldir whispered to nothing more than a memory, smiling to himself when he heard the faint echo of Elros‘s last words.

“ A word of advice, my friend. Do not allow Aragorn and Boromir to spar with real swords.... “