Here is my new LOTR story. I do not own any original characters or places. After my last story ended sadly a romantic story with a happy ending was requested. Hopefully this works out!

For Propriety's Sake

Chapter One

I sat in my corner of the Houses of Healing as night fell over Minas Tirith. It had been an uneventful shift for me with only a few people coming in with minor injuries.

I had taken over for one of the older healers as the sun was setting and no one was in the Houses. I had pulled out a book that I had gotten from the huge library in the Steward's palace. Denethor appeared to be a cold, hard man, but he was very generous to his citizens.

Just as I was getting to the exciting part of my story the door banged open and five men came barreling into the Houses. Four of the men were carrying one larger man.

"Miss! Help us please!" One man exclaimed.

I threw my book aside and hurried to the group. "Lay him on the bed," I instructed.

"What happened?" I asked, bustling around. I had seen blood caked on the man's tunic. I found a knife and went back to the bed.

"While we were on guard duty we saw a boat floating down the Anduin and as it got nearer it seemed to have a body in it. He has several wounds, it would seem form orc arrows," one man informed me

I cut the tunic open and blanched at what I saw. The man's chest was completely mangled. There were three distinct wounds on his chest and stomach. It was also clearly visible that the poison that was common on orc arrows had spread through his veins. He blood steam would be severely polluted.

"Do you know this man?" I asked.

The men looked at me, confused for a brief moment.

"Lady, this man is the Steward's eldest son. This man is the Lord Boromir," one man said slowly.

I had heard many tales of Denethor's eldest son. He was supposed to be courageous, kind, and his father's pride and joy, a true golden boy.

I had seen the other son sever times whilst walking around Minas Tirith. He always looked grieved and tormented. He clearly didn't have the Steward's love as his brother did.

"How could you not have known that?" Another man demanded harshly.

I glanced at the men as I went to retrieve a few ingredients for an antidote. "I am new to Minas Tirith, forgive my ignorance."

I put a special herb in a small bowl along with a chalky mineral that could only be found in the Glittering Caves. Crushing them into a fine powder I added a little strong liquor. That mixture was one of the first I had been taught when I began working in the Houses.

The threat in the East grew stronger every day and men had been brought into the Houses with wounds from arrows or blades that been covered in a new, terrifying poison. The antidote that I had mixed up was, so far, the most effective anyone had discovered.

When I had it beaten into a thick paste I dipped my fingers into the mixture and approached the unconscious man. I gently probed my fingers into the wounds. It was most important to get the antidote as deep into the wound as possible. If the victim survived the first few days and regained consciousness the procedure would be very painful.

The other men all stood back, watching me like hawks as though I might try to harm the beloved son of Gondor. When I finished with the ointment I found some sheets of white gauze. In the beginning of such an injury it was especially important that the wound should not be bound tightly and for some time be exposed to fresh air.

In the rush of activity I hadn't had time to study my newest patient. The Steward's eldest son was easily the most important patient I had ever tended to. That aspect alone put tremendous pressure on me to make sure this man lived.

As I looked at him I understood why he was so liked by all of Minas Tirith. His broad, handsome face spoke of his nobility and courageous deeds. He was powerfully built and larger than the average man. If he hadn't been built so sturdily he would never survived such a devastating incident.

Just as I was laying the sheets of gauze over Boromir's stomach and chest the door flew open again. My head snapped up and I saw the Steward himself along with a few of his attendants.

The older man flew to his son's side and knocked me out of the way roughly. If one of Boromir's rescuers hadn't caught me I would have been sprawled on the ground

"Boromir!" Denethor cried. "Not Boromir, not my son." The man quickly became hysterical. "Valar don't take him from me. Take anyone else," he pleaded with the gods. "He is too young and strong and good to be gone so soon."

The Steward finally gathered himself enough to look at the group behind him. "Where is the Healer?" He demanded craziness evident in his eyes.

I stepped forward. "I have tended to the Lord Boromir," I said meekly.

"You?" He spat incredulously. He looked past me to his attendants. "Fetch Eldacar. Tell him it is urgent and that I do not trust his apprentice with such an important matter as the line Steward's line of succession." Denethor looked at me with contempt before going back to his son.

In my short time that I had been employed in the Houses no one had every treated me ungratefully. They were always more than satisfied with what I had done for them or a family member. I had a good record and no one had ever come out worse for the wear after being in my care. Denethor had looked at me like I was the most insignificant, worthless being in all of Middle-Earth, unworthy even to kiss his son's boot.

Within a quarter of an hour the attendant returned with a harried, tired looking Eldacar. He was the most experienced Healer in Minas Tirith and had been the one to teach me the ways of healing.

The older Healer surveyed the man on the bed. "My Lord, my colleague," he said. He smiled inwardly that he didn't refer to me as his apprentice. "Has done everything that I would have done in this exact situation." Eldacar held his hand out to me. "And I believe she was just about to cover the wound."

I handed over the gauze. Denethor looked back at me, but deemed an apology beneath him.

"Is there nothing else that can be done?" Denethor asked the hysterics still slightly in his voice.

"Now it is up to Lord Boromir. His recover will be dependent upon his own determination and strength."

Denethor nodded. Eldacar stepped away from the bed to give Denethor privacy with his son. He pulled me away from the group and spoke quietly. "I shall stay here tonight and tend to Denethor." I nodded. "He won't give you any more problems. Come back tomorrow afternoon."

There you have it! It was kind of short, I know, but they won't always be so short. Please review! I'm open to ideas or anything else you have to offer!

Happy reading,