Chapter 9 - "Fellowship?...Really?"
Author's note: Hey guys!
Guess what: I finished this chapter much earlier than I thought, so voila!
Thank you for reading this - it means the world to me (and I don't think I'm even exaggerating).
You guuuuuuuuuys, your responses were awesome!
Answers to reviews:
Trainee Hero: I laughed so hard!
Guest: I did the same when I saw your review!
Sara KM: Thanks! Many thanks to you as well for writing a review, I'll make sure to read your fanfic = )
Minirowan: Wow! Long review! Thanks! Um, Gold will be okay for the moment (Emma's the one with a lot on her mind - worry about her = P). Regina won't have a major role in this story yet, or at least for the FOTR part. As for Boromir, I have plans for him... = )
The Tardis Blue Impala: Your review was so sweet, thank you so much! I love your pen-name, btw. I'm a fan of DW!
Here you go!
The following morning, Emma woke up with a groan. The events from yesterday afternoon flooded back to her memory. Well, this was it, apparently. Another bloody task to complete. Didn't anyone think it was strange that it seemed to be her sole purpose in life?
Emma threw back the sheets of her bedding and stumbled to her feet. She hated to admit it, but her recovery - despite her protests - was not yet complete. She still sometimes felt the need to stop and clutch a wall for support. So far, she'd managed to hide it from her companions, but she hoped the lingering effects of her injuries would fade quickly, seeing as the newly formed fellowship would depart in two weeks' time.
She stretched gingerly, feeling the familiar - though thankfully dull - slightly numb ache in her arms, which had persisted despite the disappearance of the bruises. Emma made her way slowly towards the bathtub behind the screen, still sleepy, and sensible enough to acknowledge the effects it could have on her balance.
She clutched the screen as she reached it, cursing herself for her weakness.
"Would you like any assistance, my lady?" asked a soft voice.
Emma whirled around, stumbled and nearly fell. An elf maiden - Emma simply could not give her an age - was standing in the doorway with clothing Emma recognised as her own draped over her arm. Her features were impossibly beautiful, like the rest of her kin. The elf gave her a soft smile of understanding.
Despite this, Emma shook her head. "No thanks." she said as lightly as she could. "Doing fine, here."
The elf bowed her head. "As you will, my lady." she replied demurely.
"Emma." the latter corrected, still highly uncomfortable at being addressed to as a lady.
The elf bowed her head. "Lady Emma." she amended. "My name is Enelya. I will be here to assist you in any way you deem necessary."
"Er, thanks..." Emma said awkwardly. "That's really kind of you, but I really don't need anyone to - er - assist me."
The rather calm Enelya gave her a surprisingly mischievous smile. "I can assure you, my lady: you will need assistance to dress. I'm afraid the clothes we wear are different in the extreme to the ones you and your companions seem to prefer."
Emma shrugged. "Er... Well, I'm planning on wearing my own clothes today."
Enelya grinned. Her eyes sparkled. She was obviously hiding something. Emma frowned.
"What?" she asked suspiciously.
Enelya bit her lip, suppressing another smile. "Lord Elrond has arranged for the entire fellowship to share a morning meal. He says it will 'aid comradeship and encourage relations.' " she quoted. The smile suddenly appeared again. "It would seem Lord Elrond also requests that you and your companions wear the clothes my people have given you. As long as it is no inconvenience, of course." she added hurriedly.
Emma grimaced. "OK, not that I mind eating with the hobbits and my friends and all, but the others... Really? Will that man be there, the big one with the trumpet on his hip?"
Enelya laughed. It was like spring water running in a particularly merry stream. "Lord Boromir? Yes, I believe so. Though if I may be so bold, I can understand my lady's reaction." she added with a conspiratorial smile. Emma was starting to like this girl. She obviously had more of a sense of fun than her fussy, overprotective healers.
"Said the same sort of things to you guys too, did he?"
Enelya laughed again, evidently having caught Emma's meaning despite her relatively foreign speech manner.
Emma drew a bath and gingerly climbed in, while Enelya busied herself around her room, straightening the bedding and laying out Emma's clothes.
Emma scrubbed herself clean in the tube. She used lavish amounts of the floral, scented soap the elves had provided her, knowing she would probably not get any chance of bathing or even washing once they were in the wild. The hot water relaxed her weakened muscles, and the steam rose in spirals around her. Emma washed her hair again, despite having done so a couple of days ago - she reveled in the luxury of a warm bath while she could.
Once the water had begun to cool, Emma stood up and wrapped a towel around herself. She hesitantly clambered over the edge of the tub. Unfortunately for her, the hot water had also loosened her limbs enough to send her sprawling to the floor. She landed with a grunt and a wince of pain, and groaned once she realized she was probably too weak to get up by herself again. It was strange: she hadn't had issues nearly so bad only yesterday. Then again, Lord Elrond had warned her that some symptoms would possibly take weeks to completely disappear.
Emma heard Enelya pause. The elf approached quietly and called from the other side of the screen.
"Lady Emma? Can I be of any assistance?"
"We've been through this before." Emma said through gritted teeth, though she forced her voice to sound as carefree as possible. "Just Emma. Else I might just start calling you Lady Enelya. See how awkward that feels. And no, I don't need help, thank you very much."
Uh-oh, she hadn't meant to say quite that much, nor that harshly. The pain, suddenly fiercely present again, was messing with her mind.
The elf remained silent for a moment.
"Emma, there is no shame in accepting help when it is needed." Enelya said quietly.
Emma swallowed, both her pride and in an attempt to humidify her dry mouth.
"Help," she acknowledged grudgingly after a few more moments, "would be much appreciated."
Enelya glided over and gently helped her to her bed once more.
"Thanks." Emma muttered reluctantly.
"It is no problem." Enelya replied easily. "And most certainly not a shame for me, so neither should it be for you."
Emma glanced at her new acquaintance. The elf reminded her a little of Mary-Margaret, especially her soft tones and care-driven logic. She smiled a little in acknowledgment.
Together, they managed to get Emma dressed in a simple, pale blue dress that fitted closely to her body. The dress was evidently of elven make, and Emma was suddenly grateful she'd eaten only a bit of dried meat and fruit in the last few days, for her figure was greatly revealed in this new outfit. The dress itself was quite beautiful, and Emma found herself twirling around slowly, admiring the the floaty folds fanning out.
Enelya took her leave after offering to guide Emma to the hall where she would be meeting the new fellowship, which Emma declined politely. She stubbornly still refused to be perceived as weak, whether that meant getting lost or not.
With that in mind, Emma wandered around the beautiful corridors until she finally found the hall in question. It was large, airy, and as elegant as the rest of the the Last Homely House - but it was nearly empty. Only a long table, laden with fruit, bread and various beverages, stood in the center of it. Emma noticed that Strider - well, Aragorn now - was already seated, drinking from a cup. Also present were Frodo and Sam, Gold, and the blond elf who had defended Aragorn the day before. Emma thought she remembered his name to be Legolas.
She walked over to her companions and took a seat next to Frodo and Sam, who greeted her with friendly smiles. Gold nodded at her, while Aragorn bowed his head politely. Legolas made a similar gesture, and, to Emma's surprise, smiled at her. She returned it awkwardly, suddenly thankful for the entrance of her parents, who took seats beside her. Snow inquired quietly after her health, and Emma shrugged noncommittally, not wanting to let anyone know of her embarrassing spells of dizziness or weakness.
Aragorn was talking quietly with Legolas, while Gold just stared moodily at his plate. His new outfit as Rumplestiltskin seemed odd in the morning light, even slightly ridiculous. His brooding face stayed identical to the one Emma had come to know quite well over the past two years, leaving the impression he had simply donned a costume.
A few quiet conversations had now begun around the table, although none were actually very inclusive: each was between a pair, and communication between all seated persons was sparse.
Eventually, Regina, Hook, Lord High-and-Mighty and the red-haired dwarf (Emma strained her memory to remember his name, but couldn't quite manage it) made their way in, though at different intervals. Regina too had donned an elven dress, though hers was a very dark red. She looked quite regal, and even Snow looked like the princess she was in a similar outfit, though hers was white. Hook alone still wore the attire he had sported all throughout their adventure so far. Emma wrinkled her nose a little at that. Didn't the guy wash or change?
All members of the fellowship picked at their food (except Emma, who was starving - she ate her way through three bread rolls in less than five minutes) and the atmosphere became tense now that total silence had fallen. No greetings other than Hook's wink at Emma had been exchanged, and the situation was now definitely awkward.
Suddenly, a commotion at one of the hall's entrances made them all look up. Gandalf was scolding two very sleepy-looking Merry and Pippin, prodding them inside with his staff.
"- most inappropriate prank one could imagine! Trust a Brandybuck and a Took. Fools, the lot of them!" Gandalf muttered, while the two sheepish hobbits sat in front of Frodo and Sam. Immediately spotting the food, they started pulling plates of bread and fruit towards them, sleep vanishing from their eyes instantly.
"What did you do?" Emma whispered, glancing at Gandalf, who was still muttering, as he seated himself at the head of the table.
Pippin shot her a slightly ashamed look, while Merry scowled at his cousin.
"It was your idea." Merry mumbled crossly.
"You wanted to do it!" Pippin retorted in a whisper.
"Guys," Emma intervened, interrupting Merry's imminent and most likely indignant reply, "what happened?"
Merry scowled at his cousin once more and launched into a whispered tale of convincing a couple of elves that mixing ale and wine would create a hair-solution strong enough to keep their hair curly for the rest of their days. Apparently, said elves had admired the curls of all four hobbits, and expressed a desire to have some as well.
"Of course, Pippin then offered to make some stuff for them, and told them to soak their hair overnight for best effects." Merry explained scathingly, stabbing his pear with a particularly sharp knife. "The elves, who used to be blond, apparently woke up this morning with their hair brown, completely frazzled, and very drunk, thanks to the spirit vapours."
Pippin mumbled nonsensically and fidgeted with his apple.
Emma blinked several times, mouth slightly open in shock. In the corner of her eye, she caught the expression of Legolas. The elf looked positively horrified.
Unable to stop herself, Emma snorted. She started laughing uncontrollably, sinking her head into her arms on the table. Spasms of laughter raked her body, until she was so exhausted she could barely raise her head anymore. She did though, and shot a bemused grin at the two hobbit cousins, who were looking completely non-plussed at her reaction. Merry even had a spoon halfway up to his mouth.
Emma shook her head. "You guys," she said fondly, still sniggering, "you would give most kids in our land a run for their money. How do you come up with those ideas?"
The hobbits shrugged, somewhat pleased that their prank hadn't been wasted on strictly everybody. The other members of the fellowship merely shot them looks, many of them expressing various degrees of confusion. Boromir scowled at them particularly moodily.
" 'Tis sad a lady should lower herself to such a level." he commented, contempt clear on his face. "In Gondor such unladylike behaviour goes highly criticized."
Emma's eyes narrowed. "Well I guess we aren't all as delightfully civil as you are." she retorted, voice positively dripping with sarcasm.
Boromir's face darkened. "I do not take such insolence from a woman -"
"Why? Are they all too disgusted to even speak to you? Or do they just not give a damn of what you think?"
The Gondorian flushed in anger. He clenched his fists and threw his knife down. "You go too far-"
"Apparently we need to reflect on your definition of 'far'." Emma interrupted again coolly. "I am eight seats away from you. Surely my words as a mere woman can do nothing to ruffle the ego of one so mighty as my lord Boromir?"
The latter visibly bristled. His knuckles were white and his face now brick-red. To his credit, however, he said nothing. Emma held his gaze evenly. She did not notice the amused smiles of Aragorn and Legolas, though she did notice her mother squirming uncomfortably to her right.
When Boromir finally looked away, Emma saw Hook grin. "Pirate." he mouthed at her.
Emma flushed, and ducked her head.
A tense silence fell again on the fellowship, all merriment the hobbits had brought now vanished. A few minutes later, Snow spoke up, evidently trying to ease the tension.
"So," she called loudly and cheerfully, "what kind of training are we going to undertake?"
Emma swallowed her mouthful of bread with difficulty. Training? Nobody had said anything about training, which is precisely what she said aloud.
Snow gave her a look which clearly said she'd expected her daughter to have understood beforehand.
"Well, we're not going on a wild adventure in the wilderness without training in some way. We'll most certainly need the skills of being able to defend ourselves." she said, her tone making it clear this was obvious to anyone. Yeah, anyone who'd lived in woods full of bandits for years, which unsurprisingly was not Emma's case. Usually she would have considered this a good thing, yet now she felt at a clear disadvantage.
"An excellent observation, my dear." declared Gandalf, smiling approvingly. "The wilderness of Middle-Earth is indeed populated with many sinister creatures, and dangers far greater than would be found in the Shire."
Emma gulped slightly.
"What do you suggest?" she asked her mother, carefully hiding her horror at having to train in front of all these embarrassingly good warriors.
Snow looked thoughtful. "Archery, for one." she replied. "It's always useful for hunting, and once you get sufficiently good at it, it's just as lethal as swordplay."
"I believe I can assist with that." Legolas interjected unexpectedly. "I have many years of experience with a bow. It would be my pleasure to help any of you."
Aragorn smiled slightly. "Wood-elves are renowned for their great skill at archery." he commented mildly. "No one could have better training than with one of them." He tilted his head towards his friend, who modestly looked down.
Emma couldn't help but feel the comment was directed at her specifically.
"Er... Thanks." she replied, somewhat surprised. "But I, er... I've never even held a bow before. I've fought with a sword before, though." she added somewhat defensively, seeing Boromir's slightly mockingly raised eyebrow.
Hook cleared his throat significantly at that. "I think I can help there, lass. I seem to recall you making a stand of your own quite efficiently." he said. The smirk that went with it immediately made Emma suspect he would enjoy proving her otherwise.
Thankfully, David interjected before any other awkward offers could be made. "Thank you both, but I'm sure Emma doesn't need that extent of help." he asserted firmly. "Both Snow and I have much experience in the art of battle. We can help her train."
Boromir raised the other eyebrow now. "It seems unlikely a woman should know any art of battle." he remarked haughtily. "War is the business of men. Women should tend their homes."
Emma rolled her eyes again, exchanging an equally exasperated look with Snow. They'd expected reactions akin to this. Middle-Earth was clearly a patriarchal world, and feminism had a long way to go yet. Thinking about it, Emma was surprised such protests hadn't been made at the council itself, when the fellowship had been formed. Surely Boromir couldn't have been the only one to scoff at the presence of women of a quest of such vital importance. Emma's guess was that Elrond had privately interfered on their behalf, and Gandalf's frown at Boromir made her suspect he probably had something to do with it, too.
"I can assure you, Boromir, son of Denethor, that these ladies are highly capable. More so, I believe, than many men in Gondor. I have seen their character, their abilities, and you may trust me when I say they are fit for this quest." the wizard growled, his tone contrasting with the rather cordial phrasing of his words.
Boromir stared at Gandalf in open disbelief. His head jerked in what may have been an attempt at a conciliatory nod.
Emma grinned.
"Would you like some Aloe Vera?" she asked sweetly. "Cuz you just got burned." She said, quoting Sheldon.
Boromir shot her a glance which clearly said he had no intention of smudging cacti on himself (amongst other, rather darker, things).
"I meant no offence, Mithrandir." he muttered, picking up his goblet to avoid looking at anyone.
Emma smirked a little, and Snow smiled gratefully at Gandalf. But Regina's gaze lingered on Boromir, her eyes ablaze with cold fury. Emma could practically feel the anger the queen emitted in waves around her. Emma suddenly remembered how Gold had taught his pupils to control magic: through hatred and bloodlust. She sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening that this didn't prove to be true in Middle-Earth as well. Otherwise, Boromir might just find himself literally heartless and very much dead quite soon.
0o0o0o00o0o0
Thunk.
Emma threw her head back and groaned as the thirtieth arrow lodged itself in the ground next to the tree she was aiming for. Someone had very obligingly drawn a large white circle on the bark, but not a single arrow she'd shot had yet penetrated the frustrating white line.
She flapped her arms back to her sides uselessly, looking exasperatedly at Snow, who was watching with patient amusement.
"I can't do this." she insisted. "I suck."
"Archery is always hard at the beginning." Snow reassured her. "Just keep your right arm reasonably loose and focus on your movements rather than the target."
"What? Why? How am I supposed to hit the target if I'm not focusing on it?"
Snow patiently rearranged her daughter's grip on the bow.
"You're a beginner, and a woman." she explained. "Your stance will be different to a man's - you need to control your movements more because you move differently to a man." She pushed down on Emma's shoulders. "Try to relax. And don't clench the bow like that. It's not Boromir's neck, it's a hunting tool and a weapon. Use it as such."
Emma eyed the beautiful object in her tense hands. The bow was undeniably magnificent. It was made of ash (not that Emma recognised it - Snow had told her) and was almost as tall as she was when unstrung. The string was of elven hair, something which made Emma distinctly uncomfortable, despite the fact the elven bow-master had assured her it was the usual procedure. The hair glistened like spun silver, and the polished wood gleamed in the light of the morning sun. It was light, springy, easy enough for her to string, and according to the proud creator, had a very long range. Not that she'd know. Every single bloody arrow she'd shot had landed around the tree so far.
The habit doesn't make the monk, Emma thought dryly, and apparently the bow doesn't make the archer either. She wished it did though. Even Legolas had admitted the bow was probably as good as the ones used by his people.
Said elf was also watching her practice. This understandably made Emma internally squirm. Why couldn't everyone just let her embarrass herself in private?
Sighing, she picked another arrow from the steadily-emptying quiver beside her and notched it, taking a deep breath. She squinted at the white circle, idly wondering if her mother would scold her should she dare to take a few steps forward (just to see if it would improve her pathetic performance).
"Both eyes open." said a quiet voice. Emma jumped and whirled around. Legolas was standing about three feet away from her, observing her stance. Jeez, how fast did this guy move? Just a moment ago he'd been across the field!
Snow smiled a little too knowingly for Emma's comfort, and motioned for her to carry on.
Even more nervous now, Emma did as she was told and drew back the bow, keeping both eyes open and her arm as loose as she could get it. Said arm started to tremble as she lingered in the 'draw' position too long. She finally let the arrow loose, and it successfully flew... Until it landed even farther from the tree as the others.
Emma turned around again, grimacing at her mother. Snow smiled a little wanly - No doubt she was starting to doubt that her skill had endured genetically.
Emma sighed and unstrung her bow. Her arms were weakening again. Since the disastrous 'fellowship' breakfast a week ago, she'd practiced every morning with Snow, shooting arrow after arrow. Even after the near-relentless training, her aim had not gotten any better whatsoever. And although her limbs had clearly regained strength, even their new-found energy had limits. Her elven healers already fussed enough as it was; Emma for once thought she'd take up their offer of taking frequent rests during her training. Especially since she wasn't making any progress either, she thought, annoyed.
She handed her bow to Mary-Margaret with a mumbled excuse and walked away quickly, carefully avoiding eye-contact with anyone. If truth be told, she dreaded this afternoon. The healers had finally given her leave to start training with a sword, seeing her strengthening every day, but Emma was far from looking forward to her lessons. Sure, they would be with David, but he preferred using heavy, medieval swords, as opposed to the rather lighter kind Hook used.
Actually, if she had as much skill with a blade as with a bow (or rather lack thereof), her healers didn't have to worry: she'd probably give up on her own regardless of their requests.
She was ascending the stairs to the corridor leading to her room when she heard a familiar voice calling her name. She turned, and saw Hook ambling towards her, a look of intense purpose on his face. She crossed her arms, ready for a surge of teasing mockery on her disastrous archery performance. She was surprised when he breached the subject of sword-training.
"Swan you need to prepare yourself for the perils we will face soon."
"Yes, so I've heard." She said flatly. She thought she knew what he was going to say next.
She was right.
"Swan, I could help-"
Emma stopped him with a single finger raised.
"Uh-uh." she interrupted. "Nope. Not now. I've just been through two hours of frankly awful shooting. Do not expect me to jump up with a blade in hand, ready for battle."
With that, she turned and walked away, aware her retort had been pretty weak, but honestly could not be bothered to care right then.
"You're a lousy swordsman, Swan." his voice bellowed after her.
She stopped, taking a moment to process his words. She turned around slowly, annoyance running through her body very fast indeed.
"Your footwork needs improvement, your grip is appalling, and—"
"And I beat you. I kicked your ass and knocked you out cold."
Seeing he had her attention again he smiled thinly, coming towards her again, his stride confident and full of purpose. "No darling, I let you win."
"Poppycock." She scoffed.
If she was honest though, his claim struck a chord with her, and whether it was because she sensed the truth in his words, or disliked the implication that anyone let her do anything, her irritation flared. Letting out a humorless laugh, she put her hands on her hips, watching as he took a few more steps before stopping in front of her. He lifted his sword meaningfully, the silver metal reflecting sunlight enough to remind anyone of just how sharp it was.
"Is this some ego thing? You want to go again so that you can prove you didn't get beaten by a girl, Captain." She started to walk away again, narrowing her eyes when he stepped in front of her, blocking her way. "Get out of my way." She ordered through gritted teeth.
The smile he shot her was cruel, the devastating pirate-like grin taking her by surprise. "Darling, you can walk away all you like, it won't change the fact that you still need a hell of a lot of work to get up to scratch."
Emma scowled at him, but refused to rise to the bait. Part of her knew he was right, but the last thing she wanted right now was to train with a pirate dropping innuendos every five minutes. She tried to shove past him, but he simply moved to block her still.
"Move!" She practically shouted at him, her cheeks starting to flame and anger coursing through her veins.
"From what I've gathered you don't know how to use your bloody magic properly either." Hook said, his eyes cold and his tone contemptuous. "If we're to go up against all these dark creatures, you need to be better prepared. You will practice Swan. You won't put the rest of us at risk because you are bloody stubborn and reckless. So help me I will—"
"Will what?" her answering laugh was nearly hysterical as she stepped closer to him, pleased when a wary look crossed his dark features. "I don't owe you a thing, I don't owe anyone on this quest a bloody thing. Do you understand? Nothing!" She shoved him hard and suddenly, a vibrant wave pulsed out of her hands, effectively sending him crashing into the wall five feet from them.
Emma's jaw dropped and stared down at her hands; she recognised the shockwave: it was the same sort Gold and Regina could cast on a whim. More than that, she recognised the feeling: it was magic. She raised her eyes to look at the pirate again, shock written across her features.
"I'm sorry." she whispered. "That was totally unexpected. I didn't mean... It was... I had no control-"
Hook was staring at her from the floor, pain clearly dazing his eyes. He winced as he brought a hand up to his head, withdrawing it with blood smeared on his palm. Emma gasped.
The pirate stared at her, clearly jut as shocked as she was.
"You're angry." he observed, rather calmly for someone who probably had brain trauma by now.
Emma took a deep shuddering breath.
"I'm a lot of things right now Hook. Angry is only one of them." She knelt down next to him. "Extremely sorry is another." she muttered.
Hook smiled wanly. "No worries, darling. Seems you clearly beat me, this time."
Emma looked surprised now in addition to worried. "You're... not upset I just used magic on you?" she clarified, disbelieving.
Hook shook his head, then winced as pain lanced through him. "That was pure power Swan. It just proved me wrong. You can clearly defend yourself, lass."
"But... It was dark magic." Emma insisted. "I did it because I was so angry - it was fuelled by fury. I clearly had no control over it."
Hook considered that, but nodded in acknowledgment. "That's normal, Swan. I provoked you - for which I certainly do not apologize: you still need to train - but aye, in time, you'll learn to control it."
Emma smiled in relief, still feeling guilt clench her stomach. "How do you know so much about magic?" she asked, curious. "I thought you gave it a wide berth ever since - well, you know..." she trailed off uncomfortably. Why did she have to bring Milah up, now of all times? She'd hurt him enough for one day.
Hook rolled his eyes. "I'm a pirate, lass. I've travelled to many realms and encountered many magicians. I mostly sought them out to find a way to kill Rumplestiltskin, but after a couple of centuries one picks up a few things about magic."
Emma nodded. That made sense. She watched Hook sit up straight, and helped him struggle to his feet. She still felt guilty about throwing him into a wall, and could now see the big, bloody lump on the back of his head.
"That looks nasty." she winced apologetically.
The pirate shrugged. " 'S not that bad, lass." He wobbled a little, and Emma steadied him. She peered into is eyes worriedly.
"You might have concussion." she realized. "You'll be dizzy for a while, and maybe feel sick depending on how bad it is."
Hook waved her concerns away. "Rubbish. I'll be fine. I've had much worse. Quit worrying, Swan."
Emma grinned. "So it is some ego thing!" she concluded triumphantly. "You still don't want to admit you've been beaten by a girl!"
"I just did, didn't I?"
Emma crossed her arms. "And if I was to run to everyone here and tell them that, you wouldn't stop me?"
Hook hesitated. Emma laughed and punched him on the arm. "Don't worry." she said, still grinning. "I won't." The pirate looked relieved.
"On one condition."
He looked wary again.
"I don't train with a blade. Especially not now, nor today." she continued.
Hook sighed. "Lass, you have to train-"
Stepping back from him, she reached behind her and pulled out her gun, which she'd concealed at her ankle. "I don't need a sword when I have—"
"That? Ah darling, how well did that precious weapon suit you in the Enchanted Forest, pray tell?" He didn't wait for an answer, but waved her weapon away. "Keep it my dear. We may need it in a particularly desperate situation, but by no means will that be your weapon of choice."
He tapped the barrel of the metal firearm firmly.
"The moment you use that, it's blast will attract every native, beast, and enemy lurking in the shadows - like a beacon, betraying our location and presence with no qualms whatsoever. The moment you use that you'll draw unwanted and unnecessary attention. The moment you use that darling, you risk everyone's life... And maybe ultimately your son's. Put it away."
She faltered a little. His voice had taken on a commanding tone she had no doubt he'd used most of his life as captain of a pirate ship. And she hated him at that moment. Hated him with a violent passion for his smug and superior tone, hated him for the idiotic choices he had made, hated him for bringing Henry into the conversation
But most of all she hated him because he was right.
Staring down at her gun, Emma considered it hard. She remembered how it had alerted the ogres of their presence in the Enchanted Forest, nearly killing her and her companions in the process. Gritting her teeth, she lodged it back against her ankle.
"I'll go find David."
"Ah, yes. The prince."
"He's just as good if not better with a sword."
Hook clutched his chest in mock horror. "Lass, you wound me."
Emma rolled her eyes and shrugged. "He fights with a medieval sword, Hook. You fight with one of those lighter ones." She paused, and tilted her head, reflecting. "You know, in our world they correspond to different era's entirely." she explained. "The big heavy ones David uses are around a thousand years old in terms of their use by humans. The kind you use are only about five hundred years old."
Hook raised an eyebrow. "What has that got to do with your training?"
Emma moved slightly to the left.
"Absolutely nothing!" she chirruped, dodging past him suddenly and running as fast as she could. "Just needed to distract you a little!" she yelled back at him.
He was staring after her, dumbfounded. Emma grinned and waved, before sprinting off to her room for a well-deserved rest.
0o0o0o0o0o0
"Ready? Three! Five! One! Four! Two! Six!"
"Ow!"
Emma dropped her sword, flapping her hand as pain lanced through her bruised fingers, and glared at David.
"Sorry." he said, not sounding sorry at all, and grinning when Emma scowled at him. "Come on, it was just a little tap!"
"It was the fifth!" she mumbled, trying not to sound too affected, but determined to get her point across. "By tomorrow, I won't have any fingers left!"
"That's certainly true. But that'll be because you accidentally cut them off with your own blade, not because of me. Which is why we're carrying on. You need to improve."
Emma rolled her eyes. "Oh, please." she scoffed. "We're not leaving tomorrow, and I hardly think we'll need our swords as soon as we leave this valley. Most likely we'll need them as walking sticks, the way Gandalf's talking."
"Count that as a good thing, because you won't be saving yourself with that low stance and loose grip." David retorted, sighing.
Grumbling, Emma took her 'ready' position once more, determinedly not wincing as her fingers curled painfully around the hilt of her sword. It was the weapon Strider had given her at Amon-Súl, and which the elves had kindly sharpened for her. It was now quite shiny, and razor-sharp. Yet like with the bow, Emma soon found that it didn't just take a good weapon to be a good warrior.
David called his sequence of numbers again, to which Emma was supposed to respond with the corresponding movements. According to him, Hook and Aragorn (who had been interested in seeing her train), she would have to get these movements to be automatic before she could even start proper sparring.
It didn't help that said men were leaning on the fence, next to the space Emma and David were practicing. Well, Emma was practicing - but she had a nasty feeling David was feeling like a babysitter more than a coach.
She awkwardly stumbled though the separate moves. She got them all correct, but her balance was wobbly at best, and her arms were trembling from the weight of the sword.
"Move your feet." Aragorn called.
"Yeah, I was planning on doing that while David wasn't busy trying to kill me!"
David grinned. "Kill my own daughter? Emma you must be more tired than I thought. Just be thankful you're not training with Boromir - he'd probably have no qualms running you through, after all you said last week." he joked. Secretly, he had been rather proud of his little girl biting the Gondorian's head off - Big girl indeed.
"The git deserved it." Emma muttered. "Patronizing, masochistic, vain, arrogant prat that he is."
Hook smirked but had to hide it. "He's still better than you with a sword, lass." he pointed out. "If I were you I'd learn to use a blade properly before I run to go and mouth off at him again."
Emma scowled at him. She was tired, her arms were trembling even when the sword was down, sweat was trickling down her body, and the constant watching of the three men made her much more irritated than she should have been.
"When I learn how to use a blade properly, Hook, you'll be the first to be on the end of it." she threatened, too tired to realize the ambiguous meaning of her words.
Hook got it though. He grinned his pirate grin.
"I look forward to it."
By then, Aragorn was looking downright shocked. Not only had he just witnessed a thirty-year old man calling a woman in her late twenties his daughter, he was now the reluctant spectator of an other-worldly flirting match (albeit it was one-sided). He shook his head. He'd known from the beginning that these companions on the fellowship would make the quest certainly an interesting one, but he now had a feeling he would get more than what he'd bargained for.
0o0o0o0o0o0
Emma clambered out of her bath, pulled on the nightgown the elves had kindly lent her, and downright collapsed on her soft bed.
She was exhausted. David had kept her training for another hour after Aragorn and Hook had left, and she had bruises all over her body to prove it. Those weren't actually David's fault: most of them had bloomed when she couldn't stop the momentum of her weapon and it ended up hitting her limbs, hard.
Emma relished the feeling of the smooth sheets and comfortable bed molding her aching body, although she already dreaded what the next day would bring. David had promised to spend the whole afternoon (as opposed to a couple of hours) training with her tomorrow.
Emma groaned at the thought and rolled over in bed, shutting her eyes and wishing with all her might for the sweet oblivion of sleep. But fate would have her own way.
An image of Henry swam into her mind. He looked like he had that day in Storybrooke. Happy, confident, and smart, until Greg and Tamara had kidnapped him. All of a sudden, Emma realized she nearly hadn't thought of Henry today. While she'd been puffing and panting in training to help her look for her son, Henry himself had been quite far from her thoughts.
Hot, bubbling guilt washed over her. Was this it? Was this when she started to forget about her own child because of the distractions of life?
Regina had been right: they were spending too much time in leisure. They were here to find Henry, not help Frodo.
Ah, said the nasty little voice she had become quite familiar with lately, but they don't know that helping Frodo is possibly the only way to save Henry – the only way to get even close to Saruman.
Doubt and regret gnawed at Emma's mind. Had she been right to conceal the truth from her companions? No, of course not. Truth was always better. She'd learned that so many times: when she lied to Henry about his father; when Neal had lied to her about leaving with the watches; when David Nolan had caused so much misery by lying about his relationships.
She knew, now, of course, that Neal hadn't lied. But it had felt like he had for years, and the betrayal had still happened.
Why then, didn't she simply tell her companions about Henry? Obviously they were now all leaving with the fellowship, so they would be looking for him anyway, but something still stopped Emma from telling her guilty secret. She knew, now, that she had kept it far too long from them: she knew they would be angry at her and feel betrayed. She was afraid she would not be forgiven.
For the first time since she had learned about her son's plight, Emma acknowledged that she was afraid. Afraid for her son's life, for her companions, for Frodo, afraid her friends would reject her when they found out she had lied all along.
But most of all she was afraid of the unknown.
She had no power here, over her fate, her actions, those whom she loved... At least she'd known for the past year that she was the supposed Saviour, she'd known what her general task was. Even the first year, back when she didn't even believe, she'd had Henry with her every step of the way. His absence was like a bare wound, wide open and gaping, but refusing to heal. In some ways she hated it, because the sheer pain, especially in the middle of the night, like now, was almost too much. But in others she cherished it. She could remember every day she spent with her son, every walk, every ice-cream, even every hot chocolate at Granny's.
Here in Middle-Earth, not only was Henry not with her, but he was in danger, and there was very little Emma could do about that. She was doing her best, training and planning for their quest, but Emma knew that their chances of actually finding Henry soon and hugging him again were presently very slim, and seemed about as far off as Storybrooke. And she wasn't even sure they were going towards Saruman anyway...
Thoughts swirled, twisted and wormed into Emma's increasingly alert mind. Tired as she was, and certainly cliché as it was, she simply could not go to sleep.
Huffing, she flopped back onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, faintly making out the twining patterns decorating the pillars around her room.
There was a soft knock on her door.
Emma lifted her head, surprised. It was quite late. Past midnight, at least. Who on earth would disturb her now? Emma's thoughts immediately went to Hook, who'd taken the same liberty the day she'd woken up, and whom she'd tricked this very afternoon. She grimaced. She didn't want to banter with the annoying pirate, nor indeed have anything to do with him in this state. Her body still ached and she had to summon her whole strength of both body and mind to find the motivation to get up and answer the door.
She'd opened the door with a scowl and a few, sharp, well-prepared words, when her mouth dropped open in surprise as she saw Regina standing awkwardly in front of her door.
"Regina?" she said, baffled. "I wasn't expecting any sort of visit, least of-" She stopped. She'd been about to say 'least of all from you', but it would come out catty and mean.
Regina gave a small shrug.
"I can assure you I don't usually go visiting people in the middle of the night, Miss Swan." The queen replied. "But I am now, because there really is no other way of doing what I wanted to do."
Emma crossed her arms, curious. What on earth would the queen want with her, especially in the middle of the night?
"Well?" she prompted.
Regina looked behind and around herself, slightly wary.
"Inside, maybe?"
Emma nodded and let her through. She was now positively befuddled. Oh, that was a good word, 'befuddled'. She should use it more often.
Regina walked in quickly and sat in one of the chairs that remained after her parents' visit, a week ago, when she'd woken up from her coma.
"Miss Swan, I wanted to have a private word with you. About your training."
Emma stared, then groaned.
"What, you too?" she complained. "I already have half the fellowship following every one of my embarrassing moves when I train, are you gonna start nagging as well?"
Regina smiled her humourless half-smile.
"No. Unless of course you count magical coaching as 'nagging'." She answered, her face still impassive.
Emma was taken aback.
"Magic?" she repeated, still confused. "What.. As in, what you and Gold can do?"
The Queen nodded, her face telling Emma this was the precise moment where she would decide if she was worth training.
There weren't exactly a thousand ways this could go.
"Okay." Emma conceded weakly. "When do we start?"
It was Regina's turn to look surprised.
"That's it? No other questions?" she asked, slightly startled at Emma's immediate agreement.
The latter shrugged. She had a lot of questions, like: Who am I training with? Is it hard? Where will I practice? Can the others know? Are my parents okay with this? Actually, probably not the last one; She was a grown woman, free to do as she wished.
The queen eyed her suspiciously.
"As to your question," she continued, "how about now?"
What? Now? In the middle of the night? Jeez, training was taking all sorts of shapes and sizes today.
Emma hesitated. She was physically tired, mentally drained, and had no wishes to spend more time with Regina than she had to. But on the other hand, Regina was the next best thing to Gold (if she was honest, she preferred being tutored by Regina than the distinctly odd Rumplestiltskin), sleep was nowhere near, and they only had a week left before the fellowship's departure. And if was being particularly honest tonight, she didn't in the least want to appear weak by saying she was tired.
"Alright." she conceded again. "Shall we stay in here?"
Regina was once again surprised by Emma's lack of arguing, but nodded and rose from the chair.
"I think it best that we practice in the night-time, in your room, to preserve privacy as well as discretion," she informed her new pupil, answering Emma's mental questions. "The less the others know about your magic, the better. By keeping it a secret, not only do we keep our powers private, we also maintain the element of surprise for when the time to do battle comes."
Emma nodded to show she understood, not trusting herself to speak. The prospect of practicing magic, here, now, and under the surveillance of the former Evil Queen unsettled her more than she could say.
Regina began by telling her the basic functions and mechanics of magic.
"It's vital that you understand how magic works, or it won't fully respond to you." Regina explained. "It's like trying to work a computer. You have to know how to use a mouse, and how to access different applications. To do that, you have to understand how they are all linked and how they can work together; like when you download files, which you then save, store, open, play, and make backups of."
Emma nodded. She was pretty fluent in IT, since her job as a bail bondswoman demanded a surprising amount of breaking in accounts. She hadn't in the least expected it to be useful when practicing magic though. Then again, she hadn't expected to practice magic at all only ten minutes ago.
Once Regina had finished explaining the rudimentaries of magical theory, she steered Emma in front of a small table, on which she'd placed a small candle, a bowl of water, and a tree-leaf.
"I want you to close your eyes, and focus on what you're seeing on this table." Regina said clearly, arranging her new pupil to stand with her arms down by her side and her shoulders down. "I want you to find the magic inside you. Feel it as though it's what you live for, then channel that energy through to those items. Do it to each of them in turn. I want you to light that candle, to make that water disappear, and to make that leaf float in the air. Start."
Emma, taken aback at being asked to do magic so soon, stared in disbelief.
"What, now?" she asked.
"No, next week." Regina snapped impatiently. "Yes, now. You need to have some degree of control over your powers before we leave, or you won't be of use to anyone."
Emma resented that last remark, and opened her mouth to say so, but Regina pressed her cheek to turn her face back to the objects again. Emma swallowed her retort, and glared dutifully at the three, innocent things in front of her.
Once she'd taken note of their shape, position and appearance, Emma closed her eyes and tried to reach at the back of her mind for the threads of power which were, despite recent events, still largely unfamiliar to her. Under Regina's sharp scrutiny, the pressure was intense, and Emma felt the magic evade her as she forced herself to reach it.
She sighed, annoyed, her eyes still closed.
"What?" she heard Regina ask.
"I can't connect with them." Emma mumbled, not sure if she was making sense. "I'm trying to reach the magic, but it's... running away."
"You're thinking about it too much." Regina explained curtly. "Don't think. Feel."
Emma sighed again and tried to clear her mind and get it to stay blank. This was extremely difficult. Thoughts of Henry, magic, Frodo, the Ring, her parents, Henry, sleep, elves, and Henry kept flitting through the forefront of her mind. When she finally managed to concentrate on the sole thought of magic, she let her whole being embrace the energy. She could feel the power being coaxed back within her reach again.
Mentally, Emma tried to grab those threads of magic, reaching for them and willing for them to wrap around her mind. The magic slowly crept through her, spreading like moisture through cloth. She could feel power trickling down her arms and gathering in her hands. Her mind was a hive of power by then. The magic filled her mind, which was, oddly, still clear. In fact, she felt better than she had in weeks, and her senses became more acute. Emma could hear Regina's heartbeat clearly, could feel the breath she let out at every exhalation.
Emma remembered, distantly, what Gold had said. It's about emotion.
Right.
She could do emotion.
Emma threw her head back and let the pressing thoughts of her son flood her mind. She saw his face, heard his voice, his laugh, saw his smile. She felt her arm around his shoulders, she tasted the ice cream they'd so often shared. And most of all, she let her love for him invade her whole being. She coaxed and pulled her love for her child into every corner of her mind, stretching it through her limbs, torso, heart, and finally hands.
Absently, she felt heat gathering at her palms, and saw light through her closed eyelids. She heard Regina's sharp gasp, and opened her eyes.
The candle was burning merrily, the water had disappeared entirely, and the leaf was gently twirling in the air, as though waiting for another order.
Purple light was glowing in her hands, pulsing in time with her heartbeat and fading as she let the pure energy fade from her system.
Emma stared as the leaf floated back onto the table and as the flame of the candle shrank a little. The candle carried on burning, and the leaf returned to its exact position prior to the experiment.
Emma let out a long breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. She smiled, disbelieving, as she realized what she'd managed.
Laughing delightedly, she turned to face Regina, who was standing with her arms crossed and her lips pursed. The Queen looked like she'd swallowed a lemon, and her posture was as rigid as plank.
"I did it!" Emma gasped, excited. "I actually did it! Boy, I prefer this kind of training to archery and sword-fighting. D'you think I can persuade David and Mary-Margaret to let me off tomorrow, so we can do this instead?"
Regina didn't respond, but just looked at the items on the table. She eyed the bowl in particular, which looked quite dry. The queen shook her head, a strange expression on her severe features.
"What?" Emma asked, her excitement fading now. "Did I do it wrong?"
Regina shot her a surprisingly irritated look.
"Wrong?" she repeated. "You think you did it wrong? Miss Swan, you will recall I asked you to do the tasks each in turn. Instead, you did them all at once."
Emma stared at Regina in confusion.
"Well... Yeah." she replied hesitantly. " I mean... I did them, right? Isn't that all that counts?"
Regina shook her head again, slowly. Emma was confused. Had she done it completely wrong-?
"Miss Swan, that was incredible." Regina said flatly. "You did three tasks at once; a feat even a moderately experienced sorcerer would struggle with. You did it in less than five seconds. You let the power escape gradually, and the objects remained exactly as they should be."
Emma blinked.
"Then... What's the problem?"
Regina turned around abruptly ad threw her hands up in the air in an attitude of frustration Emma never seen on her.
"It's just... All that potential!" The queen blurted. "Do you have any idea what you could do with that power, Miss Swan?" She asked, in a tone that clearly said that such magic was wasted on her.
Emma shrugged,
"Find Henry?" she suggested.
She was only half-joking, but Regina calmed down and fixed her with a sudden gleam in her eye.
"Yes..." she breathed. "No doubt your powers will be highly beneficial to us to find Henry. Perhaps even to Frodo."
Emma nodded doubtfully. She wasn't sure her magic would be sophisticated enough to do the kind of cool spells Regina and Gold did by the time she would need it, but she did feel relieved at having some sort of advantage over their adversaries.
Emma was surprised Regina had included Frodo on her list of 'people to help'. The queen had never expressed any fondness about the hobbit, and her oath to him a week earlier had taken her rather by surprise. She tilted her head slightly, considering the woman in front of her she'd changed so much - and all for Henry.
"You know, Henry will be so proud of you." she informed Regina quietly. The queen looked up from the chair she'd sat in, taken aback at this rather unexpected change of subject. "He knows how hard you try. He loves you for that."
Emma sat down in the chair opposite and squeezed Regina's shoulder. The queen looked surprised at her touch, but smiled slightly.
"I just want to be a good mother to him."
Emma snorted softly.
"Don't we both." she replied, smiling. "But you've changed a lot, Regina. I'm sure Henry knows that, and admires you for it. I know I do."
Regina looked taken aback by this sudden show of solidarity and friendship.
"Thank you." she replied quietly, not knowing what else to say.
Emma smiled. It would be enough for Henry, so it was enough for her too.
0o0o0o0o0o00o0
Emma scrambled down the stairs to meet her friends in the courtyard, tightening the belt around her waist. The elves - who had expressed more friendship and generosity than Emma would ever have thought possible - had made new outfits for all the Storybrooke strangers. Emma's consisted of loose-ish green breeches (the elves had looked confused when she'd referred to them as 'trousers'), a darker green shirt which felt very light but kept warmth well, new, slim leather boots, and a dark brown cloak. The cloak was Emma's favourite: it was descended to her mid-calf, fastened at her neck with a swirly silver brooch, and was large enough to act as a blanket during chilly nights. Between her shirt and her cloak, Emma had on the coat she'd worn on her on the day they'd left to find Henry. It was rather the worse-for-wear now, but it felt like a small piece of home and Emma found she welcomed the protection from the dawn chill, even if her attire looked a little odd.
Emma strode towards her friends, who were gathered around the horse - Bill, if she remembered correctly - who was being loaded with packs and provisions.
Today was the big day: the Fellowship was leaving Rivendell to go on the Quest of the Ring. Emma had privately named it Operation Henry, and her friends had smiled at that when she'd let it slip a couple of days ago.
Snow was stroking the pony's nose while David made a few more adjustments on the pony's saddlebags. They too wore the outfits the elves had gifted them. It was strange to see them dressed so... medievally. Emma was used to her parents in jeans and t-shirts, not breeches, loose shirts and cloaks. And yet, she reasoned, this was more or less what they would had looked like in the Enchanted Forest, judging by what Emma had seen of the world's fashion in her short time there.
Regina was there too, fidgeting with the dagger Elrond had presented her with. It was of elven-make, and quite beautiful. It almost made one forget what its true purpose was.
Emma smiled a greeting to all of them.
"Big day, huh?" she said brightly.
Snow glanced at her curiously. "Someone's happy." she commented.
Emma shrugged lightly. "Well, we're finally gonna leave this place and do something to find Henry. That's worth feeling good about, considering we haven't budged for two weeks."
Snow's face was grim. "I suppose." she replied. "But we have no idea where he is, and this won't be any kind of vacation. It's gonna be hard, fast and dangerous."
David grinned and put an arm around his wife, while Emma kept her face impassive to hide her guilt.
"That's what you like, isn't it?" he teased. "Or do like danger only when it includes a giant rampaging through a town?"
Mary-Margaret laughed and pulled him in for a long kiss. Emma grimaced at Regina, who rolled her eyes and looked away. There was something distinctly odd about watching your parents snogging, especially when they were the same age as you.
Gold came down the steps as well, carrying his pack on his shoulder. Emma noticed how much less painful it seemed to be for him to walk, now. She felt guilty again as she remembered the endless miles they had trekked since their arrival in Middle-Earth.
He nodded in her direction. "Ah. Good day to you, Miss Swan." he greeted her. He glanced around the rest of the courtyard, where Merry and Pippin - looking very sleepy indeed - were being ushered by Gandalf. Aragorn too made an appearance, although he seemed to be in deep conversation with Elrond.
"It seems we are short of a few members of our company. Notably the pirate." He commented, a gleam in hs eye.
Emma winced a little. She knew for a fact that Hook had managed to find a stack of elvish wine - there was no rum in Middle-Earth, apparently - and had hidden in his room with it. Now, elvish wine was significantly more potent than regular wine. Emma wouldn't be surprised if Hook was to wake up this morning with a good old thumping headache.
Emma couldn't bring herself to sympathize. The pirate had driven her harder than ever in her training the day before, and she had a whacking great bruise on her thigh as a souvenir.
She grinned at Gold.
"I'll go wake him." she volunteered, marching back into the Last Homely House and grabbing a pitcher of water on the way.
A minute later, all life forms in Rivendell were brutally woken up by the ferocious cry of "SWAN!", followed by bright laughter and the sounds of a chase taking place.
Ten minutes later, a damp, pale, and thoroughly hungover Hook was grumbling to Bill the pony about infuriating women, and Emma was giggling to herself.
Another hour later, all fellowship companions were ready, and had gathered in the courtyard, set to leave. Elrond's family and subjects were dotted around them, alone or in small groups, watching silently as the fifteen companions said their farewells.
Emma, Snow and Regina thanked Arwen profoundly for her kindness, for they had found out she had been the one to order so many new items for them to take. The beautiful elven princess laughed lightly in response, but Emma could see her eyes were sad, and her gaze kept straying towards the mysterious ranger she now knew to be the heir of a powerful kingdom.
Discretely, Emma glanced at Strider. The man also looked saddened, and Emma noticed the tender way he touched a sparkly gem at his throat as he inclined his head towards Arwen.
The Lady elf looked close to tears, but set her jaw defiantly and held her chin high. Emma saw this and respected her for it.
There's one woman who can look after herself, she thought. Maybe she can teach Boromir to see that once in a while.
The Gondorian in question was currently scowling at Snow, who was showing the bow the elves had presented her with to Legolas, who politely looked it over and praised the workmanship. Emma noticed Boromir kept glancing at Frodo, no doubt constantly thinking about the Ring.
Emma was noticing a lot of things today. Maybe because she was doing much more watching than talking.
Elrond appeared at the top of the stairs to send them off formally. He reminded them of the purpose of their quest, and bade them all good luck.
"On those who chose to accompany Frodo," he intoned gravely, his eyebrows once again raised impressively, "remember this: no oath, nor bond is laid to go any further than you will."
Emma had to run that sentence a couple of times through her mind to make sure she'd gotten the meaning right. She frowned. Wasn't the entire point that they had given their word to Frodo? To protect him?
She exchanged a confused glance with David, who shrugged a little and whispered: "It's called politics. I'll explain later."
"Farewell. Hold your purpose. May the blessings of Elves and Men and and all free folk go with you." finished Elrond.
The fellowship thus departed from Rivendell, walking calmly out of the courtyard and onto the leaf-strewn path. Emma wondered how Frodo knew to turn left as they went.
Okay, not that much happening, but it gives all of you some insight on what Emma's thinking, and the preparations everyone's going through. There are clues about how their specialties will help to defend the fellowship - can anyone find them? (hint: some of them really could not be more obvious!)
Also, what pairings would people like to see? The story already had Snowing and Rumbelle, of course; any others? Any crossover pairings?
AND: Question of the week - Do you think it's fair that Boromir had to die at the end of FOTR? If so, why?
I am having exams atm, so it will be a while before I update - patience, ok? = ) Sorry about that.
Bye guys!
Stel
