Promise Me

Chapter Twenty-Three

 After breakfast, Boromir bent to brush Gabriella's cheek with a kiss, flashed a boyish smile at her mother, and with a nod to her father, left to make his way to the Tower of Ecthelion. As the door closed behind him, Mama turned to her. "I'm glad the two of you finally found your way to one another."

Gabriella, who had been bracing herself for sour disapproval, could only stare at first her mother, then her father, for a long moment. Was it possible they truly weren't upset at finding that Boromir had spent the night with her?

Mama broke the silence. "Gabby?"

"Sorry." She shook her head to clear the thoughts from it and start over. "I have to confess, Mama, I thought you would be angry, furious even, to know he passed the night here."

A hint of color bloomed along her mother's sharp cheekbones as she and Papa exchanged looks, but then, she turned back to Gabriella. "We might be, were the two of you far younger, but neither of you is a child any longer, as I said to Boromir. And besides, we approve of him. We've been waiting a long time for the two of you to come to your senses, haven't we, Agnar?"

Papa nodded. "We have, indeed. I mean, we weren't exactly happy when you were a child and he was almost a man, but in time, he's proved himself worthy of you." His dark gray eyes brightened. "And now we can look forward to grandchildren at last. And they will be of fine stock, what with the Númenorean and Dunédain blood in his veins."

"And he is also rumored to have elven blood from his mother," Mama added with a slow nod. "Fine blood, indeed."

Gabriella looked from her mother to her father and back. "Is that what matters? Blood?"

"Well, no, but it certainly doesn't hurt." Papa rose to take his empty plate to the basin to soak it.

Gabriella bit back a sigh. "He's a good man, Papa, and he's more than his bloodline."

"I've not said he wasn't, Gabriella."

"What happened to him?" Mama broke in softly, gesturing to her own chest. "I saw the bandage and when I asked him about it, all he would say was he was seriously wounded and then changed the subject."

Gabriella hesitated. They still had no way of knowing whether or not Frodo still made his way toward Mount Doom, whether the others lived still or not. So many unknowns. "He was wounded by orcs. Uruk-hai, to be exact."

"How? Where?"

"I—you should ask him. It is his story to tell, not mine."

"I did ask and he would not say."

"Then let the matter drop, Mama. I cannot fault him for not wanting to speak of it. He was seriously wounded and it is only through grace and good fortune that he survived and I'd rather not think about how close he came to death."

Mama's face fell and for a moment, anger flashed in her normally serene dark eyes. "Very well, Gabriella. After all, I cannot make you tell me."

"It is not my story, as I said."

"But you were here. Surely you know."

She held her mother's stare easily. "Mama, if Boromir has chosen not to share the details of his injuries, do not ask me to break his confidence and share them in his stead. He was injured and seriously. And now he is recovering. You needn't worry about anything else."

For a moment, she thought her mother was going to keep pushing, but thankfully, her father broke in with a soft, "She is right, Eir. I would not appreciate you speaking of any of my medical history without my permission."