Chapter Eight

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The battle might have ended, but there was still so much work that needed to be done. Scores of wounded flooded the infirmary, seriously straining the already limited resources. No matter how she tried, Gabriella simply could not control her penchant for nausea at the worst time. The gore sickened her time and again and she spent more time hunched over a basin than she did actually helping anyone. It finally came to the point where Ioreth ordered her out of the infirmary all together.

With nothing else to do, she made her way back to the stewards' House of Healing, stopping at the door to Faramir's chambers. It was slightly ajar, and when she peered around, it was to find no one there but Faramir.

The door opened silently. He did not stir as she approached him. Gabriella couldn't recall a time where Faramir was so still. Like his brother, he was a force of nature himself, and to see him so still, so quiet... it unnerved her.

Five years separated Boromir from his younger brother, and yet they were incredibly close. Boromir always looked out for him, was the first to tease him about something, but also the first to defend him should someone else make the unwise decision to tease him. And she knew that no matter what he did or how hard he tried, Faramir could not measure up to his older brother in their father's eyes. She'd seen for herself Denethor's favoritism, had seen how uncomfortable it made both Boromir and Faramir. In some ways, it always made her thankful to be an only child. All that was expected of her was to inherit and run the tavern one day. Her parents never pushed her to marry, or to give them grandchildren, and it seemed as if any time she brought a would-be suitor home to meet them, they found a reason to not like him.

All except for Boromir. They made no secret of their fondness for him and she'd always put it down to basically having an in with the Steward, but now she wondered if they'd seen something beyond friendship between their daughter and Denethor's heir.

She came to stand at Faramir's bedside and without thinking, reached down to stroke his hair, which was only a shade or so darker than his brother's. The resemblance between the two men was striking, they had the same coloring, the same nose, same jawline. Both were too handsome for their own good, and yet seemingly oblivious to it.

"She cannot figure out what is wrong with him."

Gabriella jumped at the unexpected sound of Ava's voice and at Ava's equally unexpected presence. "What?"

Ava nodded. "She does not know what felled him or how to bring him back. I heard her telling one of her underlings there is naught to be done by the let nature take its course."

"Oh, no," Gabriella murmured, turning back to Faramir to take his hand between hers. "Has anyone told Boromir?"

"I expect Ioreth will. Or she will ask you to. You told him of his father's passing, did you not?"

"I did, yes. But, how do I tell him he might lose his brother as well?" She looked over at Ava, shaking her head. "That news will kill him."

"But, he will have you to lean on," Ava pointed out. "And that will soften the blow."

Those words surprised her, for she and Ava had never been close friends and in some ways, Gabriella always felt Ava resented her relationship with Boromir and his family to a certain extent. But now? Now, there was no hint of that, or of the tension that had persisted between them in the days between Boromir's leaving Minas Tirith and his return.

"Soften it, perhaps, but it will not take it away entirely." A soft sigh followed Ava's words. "He has always been a kind man. I'm certain I am not the only one who is genuinely saddened by this."

Gabriella nodded slowly. Both men were held in high regard by their people, and she didn't doubt any grief that would come would be genuine. A soft sigh rose to her lips. "Will you stay with him? I am going to go see if Boromir is awake and if so, will bring him down."

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