Tara ran through the trees, feeling the jagged branches scratch her face and tear her t-shirt. Her arms did little to protect her.

She could hear the mossy ground vibrate under her from the thundering hooves of her attackers. They were gaining on her. She willed herself to sprint faster. She had been a runner since 7th grade, but she was a perseverance runner, not a racer. Her legs were long and lean for treks, not bulky for bursts of speed. Her lungs burned hotly and her mouth was dry. She racked her mind trying to figure out where she was or how she got here.

"I see her!"

She felt a physical jolt at the gruff voice and felt her eyes well up. She didn't realize they were so close. Tears streamed down her hot cheeks and she slowed to a stop. She wasn't going to outrun horses. She'd face them dead on. Tara's breathing was laboured; her chest heaved. Tears were blurring her vision, so she wiped her eyes quickly, and looked around for a weapon.

She was in a meadow now, with a few trees scattered about. The ground beneath her shook and her eyes scanned the ground desperately. She groaned as she settled for a pointed rock and stood in battle position, body locked down in defensive mode. The stones and twigs at her feet began to dance as the horses drew near. Tara wiped her eyes again and glared menacingly. If she was going to die today, one of them was going down with her.

Her heart was thumping in her chest, her blood rushing through her head. Her hands were shaking with the adrenaline surging through her veins, and her knees were trembling. She felt a cold chill as her heart faltered and she realized she couldn't do this. She couldn't fight. Whoever these people were, she couldn't fight them with a rock. Her fist clenched around the black stone in her hand and she ran. She ran swift and hard, now that she had a moment of recovery. Her legs felt like steel as they propelled her forward with renewed strength, jumping over streams and fallen trees.

With a flash of genius, she realized that she could only hear horses, not dogs. She could hide and they'd run past her without knowing. She focused all her attention on the sounds around her; her hearing acute. She smiled in relief and crawled into a hallow log a few meters away from where she stood. At first, she hesitated, imagining what was inside the rotten wood. Her mind recalled The Discovery Channel and all the nature shows she had spent her idle hours watching. She felt tears again as she forced herself to brave all the beatles, spiders, and centipedes that fate had in store for her. She shuddered as she thought that she'd rather face whoever was chasing her than be mauled by vicious life-sucking insects. That's right. Mauled.

Her thoughts hushed as the thunderous stampede of racing horses passed her log by. She held her breath, listening hard, and clenched her eyes shut whenever she felt something move against her leg. She shifted her legs and held them inbetween her arms. She'd shower with Comet tonight; a heavy dish-washing detergent with bleach. Infact, she'd take a bath in it. She shivered again when she imagined all the things that were crawling all over her body right now, and getting caught in her hair. She froze as she heard something on top of her. Something was standing on her log. She wrote the sound off as an animal. Perhaps a rabbit or a squirrel. She had never seen a wild rabbit in real life before. She contemplated the difference between a rabbit and a hare. She didn't even know what a hare looked like. All she knew was that it was a rabbit. But not. She wondered what the potential differences were and made a mental note to google 'hare' when she got home.

Tara felt something move against her leg again, and clenched her jaw shut, trying not to yelp. She heard no more noise, so she cautiously crawled out of the log; peeking her head out slowly, and looking both ways before exposing herself to the wilderness once again.

She got up and stood in front of her log, brushing herself off hard; wanting no traces of where she had been. She bent over, shaking her long, jet black hair out. Her curls and waves bounced around and she flipped them back, taking a deep breath.

Tara examined her arms and legs, her t-shirt and short-shorts seemed to have provided a shoddy defence for her body. Her light yellow t-shirt had the image of a cow standing in front of a glass of milk in an aggressive pose. The word bubbles around the images said, "Milk, I am your father," and the glass of milk shouting, "Nooooooo!". The shirt was ripped in three different places; the right shoulder, around the chest, and above her belly-button. Her jean shorts were fine, but her legs had red welts all over them, as did her arms. The small cuts and scratches were bleeding faintly, but Tara paid no mind. She had to find refuge somewhere before the horsemen came back. She turned around to walk back the way she came and she froze. Her veins went ice cold and she felt like she had been punched in the gut.

"Name yourself." The man said menacingly as he pointed his sword at her throat. Tara couldn't find the words to speak. Her lungs had no air. Her mind was not functioning. "You will speak when you are spoken to." He threatened. He stepped closed and angled his large blade against her throat. "Where is your orc master?"

Tara felt a rush of emotions flow through her. First she regretted not looking behind her, on top of the log, before she crawled out of the log. Secondly, she felt sad that the last thing she said to her Dad was, "I'm busy." Third, she was bewildered at the weapon currently in her face. A fucking sword? Would a prehistoric weapon like this be as effective in killing her as a gun would be? Or would she stay conscious for a few agonizing minutes till she bled to death? Fourth… fear. Absolute fear gripped every muscle in her body as she stared at the sword-tip before her. She quivered from the cold, the sheen of light sweat catching up to her. Tears seeped out from her eyes and the man before her blurred. She lowered her gaze in defeat and sullenly waited for death to come.

He lifted her chin with the flat side of his blade roughly.

"I will not ask you again, woman."

Tara sniffled and racked her brain as she tried to remember what he wanted. After wiping her eyes and nose, she said, "Tara. My name is Tara."

"Where is your Master?" His voice was monotone, and his eyes held confusion and contempt. She didn't understand the question. She squinted up at him, the sun was directly behind him. His hair billowed as the sunlight made his chestnet brown hair glow. She ran his question through her mind again and again and looked down for a moment to contemplate. He tilted her face up again. "Answer."

"I.. I don't un-understand…" For the first time, Tara noticed how badly her body was shaking. Her hands were shaking visibly, and her knees were trembling. The thought of her weakness in the face of certain death made her cry harder. She wanted to be brave. She wanted to be the daughter her father raised her to be. A few sobs racked her as she thought of her Dad. She covered her face in shame, crying harder at her ever apparent weakness. Eventually, she fell to her knees and halted all effort of hiding her sorrow. Tara no longer cared about appearances. She just wanted this to end. Maybe if she looked pathetic enough, he would kill her faster.

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I've only ever found two awesome Boromir or Faramir fics out there. The 1st is not from this site, and the 2nd, is written by PurpleHaze09, but just when the story got to the juicy part, she stopped updating. Not that I'm mad, cuz I'm a horrible updater myself, lol.

I'm writing this fic for myself because I'd like to see how a relationship between each of the brothers would play out. : )

LOVE,

Angelina