Okay, first of all I have to apologise to all of my readers – I'm truly sorry it took so long to upload the second chapter.:( I hope someone will still read this. My beta-reader disappeared (mine always seem to do) and I found a new one just now.

I'd like to thank everyone for their reviews (also the anon ones! It's so frustrating that I can't answer them!) and for pointing out mistakes!

About Gandalf: Boromir would know him as Mithrandir of course. From what I could gather from the books, Gandalf has only been to Minas Tirith two or three times before the war and the last time was when he discovered Isildur's documents about how he found the ring. Now, in my view, Boromir wouldn't have to necessarily have met him on that occasion (Gandalf was in a rush (he might not even have stayed over night) and he only mentioned speaking to Denethor) and I don't think he loomed as large in his mind as in Faramir's. That's just my interpretation, of course. Anyways, I changed that bit in the last chapter, so he recognises him.:)

I probably should make it clear (should any confusion arise), that this is a mix of book and movie facts. The books are my guide, but if the movie version of events suits my plot better, I'll take that. It will all go totally AU and wild after leaving Rivendell any way, so be prepared.x)

So, without any further ado, I present the second chapter!:3


Chapter 2 – In Learning You Will Teach And In Teaching You Will Learn

Merry started, Pippin squeaked, and Boromir reached for his sword (which he wasn't carrying with him). Gandalf had apparently spoken to thin air, but then they saw a man coming towards them from the arcade in front of the house. How had Gandalf noticed him?

Pippin could sense how Boromir tensed with every step that Aragorn took in their direction. When he had reached them he bowed his head to all and looked at Gandalf expectantly.

"Aragorn, have you met Lord Boromir yet? He rode all the way from Minas Tirith." There was a mischievous sparkle in Gandalf's eyes when he said this, and Pippin thought that he looked much younger all of a sudden.

Before Aragorn could answer though, Boromir did so for him. "Lord Elrond introduced us briefly yesterday." He was very thin-lipped all of a sudden and a long, vertical wrinkle appeared on his forehead.

Aragorn acknowledged Boromir's words with a tip of his head. If he had noticed the other man's annoyance then he didn't show it.

"Did you think about coming back to Minas Tirith?" Boromir asked, all of a sudden. He didn't seem to care about Gandalf's dangerous frown, which Pippin would label as a critical seven on the ten scales of his Gandalf temper-meter.

"Are you asking for my help then?" Aragorn asked, calm as always, which infuriated Boromir further.

"I'm not asking for your help," he answered in the most accomplished demonstration of haughtiness Pippin had ever seen. "But I won't deny that it would be much needed."

A slight smile tugged at Aragorn's lips, as if he had seen the same behaviour before, a long time ago. "I give you my word that I will come to the City of Kings. But I'm also part of the fellowship that is to accompany Frodo on his way to the dark lands. So I can't tell you exactly when I will come, because we might encounter a lot of unexpected hindrances and dangers on our journey."

Pippin had no idea what Mordor looked like, but it certainly couldn't be darker than Boromir's expression that followed these words. "What is that supposed to mean? Have you no sense of duty? Our people are dying!"

"Duty means everything to me," Aragorn replied, and the only indication that he was angry now, was the cold flash in his eyes. "That is why I can't just let this hobbit, who has become a friend to me, go unaided on his quest. A quest to destroy Isildur's, my ancestor's, bane. I have the duty to right the wrong he did when he took the ring for himself."

"Isildur is dead. And so will be Gondor, because her king has forgotten his home."

"Enough!" Gandalf glared at Boromir – so much so, that Pippin found it necessary to hide behind the Gondorian's robe. He himself didn't even blink. "If you're not bright enough to understand that the only way to save your home and the rest of Middle Earth is to destroy the ring, you shouldn't have bothered to come the whole way from Minas Tirith."

"Gandalf, please-" Aragorn tried to appease the wizard, but he didn't heed him.

Boromir glowered at Gandalf and Aragorn, as if they had just declared the doom of the world of men. Pippin thought someone should reconcile them, since they were all on the same side, but he had no idea how to do that. "Very well, then. I won't bother you with my petty problems any more." And with that he left.

Still no words came to Pippin's mind, but his pleading eyes spoke clearly to Gandalf. "Oh, don't look at me like that, boy. Run after him, now!"

Pippin's eyes tried to communicate "you want me to fix your mess" but his mouth was so busy grinning, it quite ruined the serious notion.

Retreating further into the labyrinth of Rivendell's vast gardens, Boromir hadn't walked far and was now pacing up and down in front of a beautifully carved fountain.

"Is this a habit of yours?"

The frustrated man looked up from the ground, but his face didn't relax. Merry hobbits wouldn't save his people.

Since he only received something between a death stare and a desperate look in reply, Pippin realised he had to change the tune. "Gandalf doesn't mean it, you know. He shouts at me like that at least thrice a week, and still he makes everything turn out right for us in the end. And he knows what he's doing, he's good at that."

"It's not Mithrandir I'm disappointed in!" Boromir declared; so outraged, that he was actually tearing at his long, dark hair.

Pippin watched him resume his pacing for a while. Such a strong, determined man, and yet he was as vulnerable as a child.

"Well, you can trust Aragorn just as much! If it wasn't for him, the black riders would have killed us. From what you all say, I know this is a sort of crazy thing to attempt, but if Aragorn and Gandalf are with us, I know it will work out. And he gave you his word. He won't let you down." Much to Pippin's surprise, Boromir stopped his fruitless walking abruptly and stared at him in shock.

"Us? Does that mean you'll be going on this mad quest as well?"

Misinterpreting his incredulity, Pippin drew himself up to his full height. "Of course I am! Merry and me would never leave Frodo and Sam, especially not when they're walking right into danger! I know Elrond didn't want us to come, but we won't be torn apart now that we've come so far - we hobbits have to stick together!"

Boromir still stared, if not more than before. At length he spoke. "I don't know what to marvel more at; the fact that Elrond and Mithrandir and anyone else in their right mind would allow this or your faithfulness and courage."

Just then, Merry joined them, chewing at an apple, which he always seemed to find somewhere or carry around. "Are you two all right? Pippin, is it safe to be near him?"

It wasn't possible for Boromir to feel more frustration, which was probably the only reason he didn't glower at Merry, but only sighed in exasperation. A vein on his temple was thumping visibly though.

"You can be quite assured, Merry, there's no danger. Boromir's just pacing it out."

"Merry, is it true that you two are going to accompany Frodo?" Boromir was still serious, but now for another reason.

"Yes, of course," Merry replied matter-off-factly, taking a big bite from his apple.

"Madness!" The pacing was resumed, more violently than ever. "This whole place is full of mad people!" Had he seen Merry's and Pippin's faces, they would have clearly communicated to him that, according to them, he was the maddest of them all.

"Mad or not, with Gandalf and Strider on our side, it can't be that bad. And I heard an elf from Mirkwood and a dwarf from Erebor will be joining us as well, so that's plenty of company and all good warriors!" Merry tried to calm Boromir, but it only seemed to darken his mood, instead of brightening it. He came to stand in front of them and his expression had changed, like a hot blaze changed to flickering embers.

"You are naïve. But I'm afraid you will soon loose your childish view of the world. And it might very well be that you will also loose your life in that."

His dark words frightened them. Even though the sun was warming their skin from a cloudless sky; even though the fountain gurgled and bubbled as merrily as a mountain brook in spring; something like a shadow crossed all of their hearts and they felt a cold chill gripping their bones.

Then Boromir sighed, and it was because he had taken some kind of hard decision, or so Pippin thought.

"Very well. Since I am the only one with some sense left here, I will have to take the responsibility of preparing you for your great adventure. Not that there's nearly enough time to do so, who knows if the messengers might not return tomorrow. But I can give you at least a basic...skill set."

Merry and Pippin looked as clueless as ever.

"Skill set?" Pippin echoed.

"To defend yourselves. Do you have weapons?"

"We do!" Merry replied eagerly, apparently keen to practise his sword fighting. "Our swords from the Barrow Hills. We haven't really used them yet, but-"

"Does that mean you'll train us?" Pippin's eyes glistened like those of the little hobbit children during Gandalf's firework. He didn't even notice Merry glowering at him for his interruption.

"I shall, if you bring your swords here. But it will take a lot of time and sweat."

The hobbits ran off before he had finished speaking. They didn't tarry long in their rooms, just grabbed their sword and shot out into the garden again like lightning bolts.

"Do you reckon he'll be able to teach us anything?" Merry asked in an unconcerned tone, shortly before reaching the point where they had left Boromir.

"I don't know, but I do know that he was smiling again when we ran off, so that's an achievement already!"

The next weeks passed in a whirlwind of colours: October had left for good and with it the red, orange, and yellow of the trees. November brought misty days of golden leaves, that were either bathed and shimmering in icy rain or framed by crisp frost spikes. All this time, Boromir taught the hobbits about defending, attacking, parrying, and footwork. Pippin noticed that he was growing more restless and anxious with every day that passed. Whenever he told them about Minas Tirith and his brother (always after long nagging and begging), he ended it with saying that he was needed at home and should return soon. One day – Pippin had been very unfocused this morning and had taxed even Boromir's patience as a teacher- Pippin had simply asked:

"Why don't you just leave then?"

Boromir had made a perplexed face, apparently taken aback by the question. He looked as if he never had considered this obvious option before. His eyes moved quickly and he seemed to hold an inner dialogue.

"Boromir?"

"What? Oh, well yes, it's not that easy, is it?" Having snapped out of it, he tried to act as if everything was all right. He grinned at Pippin and ruffled his hair. "I still have a job to finish here after all, don't I?"

After that, they didn't speak about the topic for a long time. Usually it was just the three of them, but sometimes Frodo and Sam joined them, to cheer them on and pick up a few tips. Gandalf only appeared once, or at least it was the only time Pippin saw him watching them. He was standing on a balcony overlooking the courtyard they were training in, smoking his pipe. The only reason for noticing him at all, was that Merry had attacked his cousin so fervently; he had stumbled backwards and fallen onto the ground. Staring up into the sky for a moment, he thought he saw Gandalf winking at him, although his expression was a gloomy one.

December came, and with it the first snow. It wasn't much, even the hobbits had experienced such tender feathers that almost melted as soon as they touched the ground, but nevertheless it was a clear sign that time was moving on and winter was awaiting them on their quest.

"My feet will freeze on this ground!" Merry complained, as they stepped out into the haze, which had swallowed the sun days ago.

"You'll get much more snow when you set out, so you'll better get used to it," Boromir retorted, stepping out of a door on the other side of the house, putting on his thick gloves.

Rolling his eyes, Merry ran over to meet him in the middle of the courtyard. Pippin followed slowly; his thickest winter scarf tied around his neck and jaw so many times, he hardly looked fit to fight.

"What's the lesson today, Boromir? I hope it won't be as strenuous as the blocking marathon you put us through last week, because Pippin has caught a little cold, you see." Merry explained.

A mumbled comment emerged from somewhere between the layers of scarf, but neither Boromir nor Merry could decode it, so they simply ignored it.

"Orcs won't take mercy on you, whether you have a cold or not," the man remarked dryly.

"Oh, come on! But you're no orc, are you?" Merry complained.

Stopping to fidget with his right hand glove, Boromir shot the little hobbit a look that could have come straight out of Gandalf's firework box.

"I just mean that we should take as much rest as possible before we set out into the wild!" Merry rowed back. "If we're already half-dead before, it will be very easy for orcs and who knows what else to stop us."

"Quite true," Boromir condescended, finally finished with fussing around and holding his sword ready at hand. "But better to be sick and know how to handle a sword than just be sick, eh?"

Pippin glowered at him from his scarfy depths and thus it happened that Boromir actually laughed heartily for the first time in two weeks.

"Come now, I won't be too hard on you. You should be glad that my old Sword Master Maedhros isn't here to drill you. He would have made you run around the house ten times just for asking to be easy on you."

"That explains a lot," Merry muttered into his cousin's ear.

"I heard that!" Boromir interjected cheerily, while getting into fighting position.

Both hobbits rolled their eyes in synchrony and got their weapons ready. Pippin refused to take off his scarf though. He only removed a few layers covering his mouth, so that he could actually communicate.

"But don't complain if you all catch a cold from me then. I warned you!"

"Orcs won't warn you!" Boromir yelled, and before they could roll their eyes, he attacked them with a ferocious jump forward.

Merry ducked, Pippin squeaked, and then both ran to hide behind a plant pot.

"No! Not again!" Boromir threw his sword down in anger; then realised that it was undignified, looked around in embarrassment, and picked it up with a self-conscious little cough.

"I'm trying to teach you how to defend yourselves, not how to hide! You're already good enough at that, I figure."

Pippin's head emerged from behind the pot. "But I thought it was about surviving?"

"It is! But there are places and enemies you can't just run away from! That's why I'm trying to teach you something here!" The rising amount of Boromir's frustration was watched in fascination by Merry. Today he was displaying an interesting mix of pacing and hair-tearing, which was quite entertaining. But suddenly he stopped. A sort of mischievous twinkle entered his eyes, rather disturbing to Merry and Pippin.

"Now, look."

Pippin mouthed a silent "oh" when he pulled out an apple from his pocket.

"Some more training and whoever fights better gets this shiny apple as a reward."

Merry was already standing in the middle of the courtyard again, before Pippin could give him a sideways glance. "Hey! Wait for me!"

About an hour later, Merry and Pippin were still doing their best to block and counter-attack. It just seemed like Boromir had finally found the perfect way to fuel a hobbit's motivation. Sure, they were still complaining every five minutes and threatened to collapse, but in spite of that, they were learning fast and showed much more enthusiasm than they had ever done before.

"Good parade, Merry! Now just try to hold your wrist a bit more like this, and you're good. Pippin! Keep up your defence!"

"I'm trying to! I just can't think of keeping up five things at the same time!"

"By now, the footwork should be more or less intuitive."

"More or less!"

"Looks more like less to me, Pip!"

Boromir had to stop for a moment to prevent the two cousins from fighting each other.

"Come, come – if only you'd attack me with the same ferocity!"

Maybe he shouldn't have said that, or maybe it was just the fact that he was distracted for a split second that brought about his downfall. All he knew was, that one moment he saw Aragorn stepping around the corner of the house, and the other he was suddenly lying on his back with two fierce tickling monsters squeezing the air out of his lungs.

"For the Shire!" they shouted in unison.

Had Boromir not been very busy shouting and laughing at the same time, he would have heard a deep chuckle coming nearer and growing stronger.

"All right, lads, that's enough!" Aragorn had decided to intervene, but the hobbits had licked blood it seemed and were in no mood to relent. Before he knew what he had gotten himself into, Aragorn's feet were being hurled from beneath him and he had the same view at the sky as Boromir. It was their victims luck that the apple had fallen to the ground as well, for now the hobbits saw it rolling away from them and soon forgot their warrior spirit. Tears of mirth were rolling down Boromir's cheeks when he sat up, but as soon as he faced Aragorn, his expression tensed again.

"Looks like you finally found a way to kindle their Took-side." Aragorn commented.

Boromir had no idea what a Took-side was, yet he noticed the other man's choice of words. "Finally?"

"Well, I travelled here with them from Bree. It wasn't one of my easiest adventures, so to speak."

"It's true!" Pippin had lost the apple-war and was once again in the mood to whine. "He didn't even allow us a second breakfast, can you believe that?"

His face a perfect blank, Boromir looked from Aragorn to Pippin, and then to the happily chewing Merry. He wasn't entirely sure whether this wasn't some kind of joke. "Uh. Yeah. Sounds terrible." He got up and brushed the dust from his clothes. He thought he heard a faint sigh as Aragorn unfolded his long limps and stood as well, but he wasn't sure. At the moment he thought it best not to get into another debate, so he kept quiet.

"Are we done now, Boromir?" Pippin looked up at their teacher with his big, green eyes – in the background Merry was sniggering secretly. "Surely we fought better than you today!" And the heart-warming glow was replaced by a sneaky twinkle.

"Ah well." Boromir tried to look as dignified as possible, sticking his nose into the air. "Technically, that wasn't exactly fair."

"Orcs wouldn't be fair!" Merry shot back, a look of ultimate triumph on his still chewing face.

He sighed dramatically in defeat, but the hobbits knew their swords-master well enough by now to recognise the slight twitching around the corners of his mouth. Pippin untangled himself and threw his scarf upwards with a loud "Hurray!" and before Boromir could enquire on the sudden, wondrous healing of his cold; both were already running towards the house at fascinating speed.

"Wait a minute! Merry, Pippin! I've got news!"

At Aragorn's call, both stopped dead and turned around in surprise. His voice had been far more serious than his joining in their antics would have made them believe to be possible.

Boromir raised his eyebrows expectantly. "What is it? Why didn't you say that earlier?"

"I was slightly distracted," the Dúnadan replied without shame and a nod towards the hobbits, who had run back to them. Already they were tugging at his clothes like excited little children. "I just wanted to inform you that Lord Elrond has asked for your presence after lunch. Elladan and Elrohir, and the last of the messengers have returned, so we must set out soon."

The hobbits gasped, while Boromir stared at Aragorn in open bewilderment. How could he have held that kind of important news in for so long?

"If I were you, I wouldn't be late. It seems to me that Lord Elrond would rather revoke his agreement to your joining the fellowship."

"He can't!" Pure despair now shone in Pippin's eyes. Merry was so shocked, he choked on his apple. As quick as before, the hobbits turned on their heels and ran away, in order to eat their well-deserved lunch as fast as possible.

"Fellowship?" Boromir didn't find it necessary to hide his sneer. "Will he send a group of elves and rangers for the ringbearer's protection?"

Aragorn looked at him coolly, tiredness in his ageless eyes. "As for the rangers, I will certainly go with Frodo. And Legolas and Gimli from the elves and dwarves have already agreed to come some time ago. I had rather hoped you would join us as well."

The blatant honesty of this statement hit Boromir by surprise. After all the animosity between them, he had rather believed that the other man would be just as glad as him to part ways. "Me? I will return home on the fastest road. I don't think you will be able to travel by horse with the halflings. I don't even know why I tarried so long in the first place." He frowned and crossed his arms, as if wanting to protect himself from an outside influence on his decisions.

"Maybe because you're meant to accompany us. Our road would be the same anyways for many miles. And I would be honoured to fight alongside you."

He even made a little bow, but Boromir still didn't buy it. For all his pride about the people of Gondor being honest no matter what, he had troubles taking it for face value in others. In these times of war (and that had been his whole life), strangers were a rarity in Gondor. And it had only been on a few occasions that the steward's son had found it safe to visit their allies in Edoras. Théoden and his family he trusted, for they had sworn their allegiance to Gondor and were like kindred to him. However, this man was a puzzle to him. He claimed to be Isildur's heir, yet didn't act like it. Why had he spent all of his life in secrecy up here in the north? Why hadn't he come to help and to regain his throne? Surely, if he really was what he claimed to be, Elendil's sword would have already brought the hope and strength to his people that he had looked for so desperately all his life. It simply didn't make any sense.

"What route will you take?" A slight flush crept up the back of his neck for ignoring the compliment, but he looked unblinkingly at Aragorn.

"Gandalf has been rather tight-lipped about it the last time I asked, but now that our leave-taking is at hand, he will have to be more precise. Personally, I would try the Caradhras Pass."

"Caradhras? I haven't heard anything good about that mountain. Why not simply travel south and then go east through the Gap of Rohan?"

Aragorn's face darkened. "Didn't Lord Elrond tell you about Saruman? He has betrayed us all and joined the long list of Mordor's servants. Travelling through Rohan will bring us too close to Isengard. Besides, we don't know on which side the Rohirrim stand in this war. Gandalf hasn't been treated very kindly by their king and he has heard rumours about-"

"Hold on!" Boromir interrupted vehemently. "If Mithrandir, or Gandalf, as you call him, has been treated unkindly, I can think of numerous reasons for that, without king Théoden having become a servant of the dark land! For the Rohirrim have always been friends of Gondor and enemies of Mordor, and it's no small thing to accuse them in this way. I know both Théodred, the king's son, and Éomer, the king's nephew, and if they were here, they'd probably challenge you to a duel."

"I didn't know you were on such close terms," Aragorn admitted, but he didn't look surprised at all. Boromir had the uncomfortable feeling that no matter what they were talking about, Aragorn always knew more than he revealed to him. It reminded him of his father, which only increased his irritation. If I ever saw this man caught off his guard, I'd find it easier to believe him to be Isildur's heir. He appears more like an Argonath than a living man, he thought.

"I haven't been to Edoras often, but every time I have been welcomed most graciously." He said out loud.

They looked at each other in silence for a while, as if measuring the other. Both knew they wouldn't gain the other's conviction today or any time soon. Aragorn spoke first. "Will you join me when Lord Elrond decides who shall go with Frodo?"

"So you can trick me into agreeing after all?" Boromir's suspicion only grew the friendlier Aragorn became.

But the contrary seemed to be true for Aragorn, for he laughed heartily, and not even Boromir could find any mockery in the clear ringing sound or his suddenly very lively features. "You think me capable of that? I swear, I will try no "tricks" on you." He placed his right hand over his heart.

Boromir smiled grimly. This is his best trick yet, he thought, but only said it through the sparkling in his eyes.


Have I tricked you into reviewing yet?:§) By the way, the chapter title was inspired by a most heartwarming Lotr fanvid to Phil Collins' "Son of Man". I dare you to check it out and not die of cute!