An outtake from The Fellowship of the Ring. As the Fellowship flees the darkness of Moria. Boromir of Gondor thinks about his companions, one in particular captures his attention.

Here is a little one shot. Possibly a little slashy? Please read and review!

Gandalf is gone. I can't believe it. The words bounce around my scull again and again yet they still seem to lack meaning. How can this be so? I was not as close to him as Aragorn and the elf had been. Somehow I could never quite shake my fathers' suspicions about him. This is a terrible blow for our fellowship, one I fear we will not recover from.

Aragorn has shown that he intends to lead us on but I am not sure if he has the fortitude to do so. To me he seems too easily swayed. Now as we try to catch our breath after our headlong dash away from those cursed mines, should our new leader not have something wise to say? Instead he is slumped against a rock, head bowed, defeated already. It appears that only the strong hand of the elf beside him is keeping him upright at all.

As I watch them the elf looks up and I am caught. His sharp eyes pierce through me and I find myself frozen in place. It is terrible, his gaze. I have felt it only once before, at the council, and would gladly never endure it again. I feel as if my flesh is torn away and he sees my soul, he sees my fears and my joys and my insecurities. All laid out before him, free to view as he wishes. Yet I have not the power to look away.

The problem is that what he can see in me, I see also in him. I see beyond his mere face and see deep into his heart. There are years uncounted and fathomless that draw me down into his gaze. He seems to me all-knowing, as if he has long ago encountered all the secrets of the world, but he chooses not to share them. There is pain there too, it simmers just beneath the surface, searching for an escape. There is determination and independence and pride. And beneath all of that there is suspicion and a large measure of hard earned experience. If there is joy and love it is too deep for me to see it.

This companion of ours confounds me, I simply cannot understand him. How can any creature have so much emotion in them and not be wild with it. Outwardly there is total control, always. Occasionally a small smile or gentle teasing remark may slip out, but if it does it soon disappears again.

I have little experience with elves, this is true, but even so I believe this one is not the norm. Even amongst his own kind he is treated with deference, I have even seen apprehension in the faces of other elves from time to time. In Rivendell it appeared to me that the other elves were watching him for signs of an explosion at any moment.

All of this adds to the mystery that is our elven companion. I would like to hear his story one day, to learn the secrets of his elven heart. I don't believe the years left to me would be enough to learn it

all. For some reason that thought makes me sad.

I shake my head to clear it and realise that he has looked away. I am left feeling as if I have faced his judgement and been found wanting in every imaginable way. It hurts. A familiar swell of inadequacy rises inside my breast and a thought assails me against my will. 'He does not find Aragorn unworthy' the voice whispers to me.

He is leaning towards the man now, speaking gently in his soft, lilting voice. He brushes the mans hair from his brow and lifts his chin in order to see Aragorns eyes. He smiles at what he sees and rises gracefully. He grasps Aragorns hand and pulls the man effortlessly to his feet. Aragorn smiles back at him and brings his other arm up to grasp the elf in a quick embrace.

I feel it like a slap in the face, they have each other. Their friendship is as solid as the mountain they have just survived. There is no room in it for a pitiful creature like me. Never in all my life have I felt so alone.

'Boromir'

I lift my head as Aragorn motions me towards him, it is time to move on.

We are heading into the vast unknown of the woods of Lothlorien yet I have eyes for only one elf. And he watches me with barely veiled distrust. Legolas, the name slips through my thoughts like a gentle embrace, it comforts me. This does not bode well...