Chapter XII - The Price of Courage

AN: HELLO! I have returned! As per usual, I would like to apologize profusely for my delay. However, I will also (as per usual) offer an excuse that I hope you will find acceptable. I started a new fulltime, grown-up job in December. I love it and I work a lot of overtime. I also adopted a shelter dog in December. Her name is Kite (after one of my favorite Hunter X Hunter characters) and she was a LOT of work. I am moving to a new apartment next week so I'm finally done apartment hunting. Life has been wonderful and crazy and I'm finally starting to feel normal again. I am also pleased to tell you my writer's block has resolved (FINALLY!). So without further delay... enjoy!

The company passed through a broad hallway, and not too far in the distance Eileen could make out what appeared to be light. She squinted and shook her head in disbelief. "Is that light? Like actual sunlight?" Eileen asked with building excitement.

"Perhaps," Gandalf answered vaguely, "Let us go towards that light at the north door. If we could find a window that would help us find our way, but I fear that the light comes only down in deep shafts."

Eileen grinned, harboring a hope that the light signaled an end to their dreary road beneath the mountain. She quickened her pace, approaching the head of the line so she might walk alongside Gandalf. She nearly broke into a jog towards the source of light and she was soon able to see the outline of a door left ajar.

She could just see Boromir's face when she looked back over her shoulder, scrunched in annoyance and veiled concern. She halted at the door and peered inside, careful to be quiet until she was certain there was no danger within. When she heard naught but silence she slipped inside. She raised her hand to her eyes to shield against the sudden brilliance. Though the light came down from high above and only in a thin column, it seemed as bright as if she looked directly in the sun. She approached the light and reached out over a thick slab of stone, as if to touch the photons pouring into the chamber. She smiled as subtle warmth just tickled her skin. "That's light alright," Eileen said, turning to the rest of the company as they filed in. Gandalf frowned, taking note of the thick slab in the center of the small chamber, on which the shaft of light was cast. "It looks like a tomb," muttered Frodo. Eileen drew her hand back quickly as if burned.

"Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria," Gandalf read sadly.

"He is dead then. I feared it was so," said Frodo. Gimli turned away with his head bowed. Eileen's joy was snuffed out like a candle, and the room appeared dimmer. She drew herself inward, ashamed, holding her hands close to her chest.

"I'm sorry, Gimli," Eileen said quietly, absently scratching her forearm. She felt stupid for rushing into the room like a giddy child. It was not a place of gladness or excitement, but a tomb, as Frodo said. What's worse, she was so fixated on the light that she ignored the obvious signs, even reaching over Balin's final resting spot to cast a shadow on his stony tomb. Her posture hunched forward and she slunk away from the group as they continued to speak, too horrified at her own behavior to even look at Gimli.

Instead she took a few minutes to take inventory of her surroundings and stepped away from the company. An eerie sensation slinked up her spine. A heavy coat of dust blanketed every surface of the chamber and she guessed it had not been disturbed in over a decade. There were twisted shapes and broken weapons scattered upon the floor. Eileen knelt down and charily touched an arrow shaft. A sliver of frayed wood nipped her finger, giving her a start. She nearly dropped it, but for fear of making a sound, she quickly re-caught the arrow. Frowning she placed it carefully back in its bed of dust. She stood and noted a second door leading out of the chamber then headed towards it. All were silent as Gandalf searched the room for some sign of Balin's fate. Gimli strode alongside the wizard. Perhaps they hadn't given her actions second thought, or so she hoped.

Gandalf stooped to lift a thick, leather-bound volume. He gently leafed through the tattered pages, his lips moving silently as he read to himself. In the meantime Eileen reached the eastern door and carefully peered into the adjacent hall. If the beam of light cast down from high could be likened to the sun, the void beyond the eastern door could be likened to a black hole. Warmth radiated from the dark corridor, contrary to the girl's expectations. She took a step into the void only to find nothing beneath her foot. Her body jolted in panic but a stone step materialized underfoot. She held her chest, breathing hard a few moments, and decided against any further exploration.

"We cannot get out. The end comes… drums, drums, in the deep," said Gandalf, catching Eileen's attention. Reflexively she went to Boromir's side. "Where does that door lead?" he asked in a whisper.

"Into a pitch black stairway," she answered, "It felt warmer over there. It was weird…"

"Warmer?" Boromir asked, furrowing his brows. Logic stood that it ought to grow cooler beneath the earth, lest they reached a pocket of lava. Still that would not make sense – Caradhras was not known for any volcanic activity. Eileen opened her mouth to speak but her words were cut off by a deep, far away doom, doom.

"What was that…?" Eileen asked.

The walls shook with each beat of the drum and Aragorn called to bar the doors. "Bar them? And then do what? Wait here like sitting ducks until they're busted down?" Eileen huffed. "There's a perfectly good out back that way!" She gestured to the door at the other side of the chamber. She started towards the dark corridor at the other side of the room. Dark and creepy or not, it was an out. Gandalf yanked her by the back of her collar before she could dash away.

"We do not know where it leads, we must not take flight and find ourselves at a dead end with our foes in pursuit!" he bellowed. "Leave it ajar, should we have need to retreat."

Boromir, on the other hand, was of the same mind as Aragorn, desiring to bar both doors. Aragorn surveyed the dark stairway at the other side of the chamber, remarking that it surely did not lead back to the main hall.

Heavy footsteps echoed just outside the chamber. Boromir slammed a shoulder against the door through which they entered the chamber, barring it shut with discarded sword blades and splinters of wood. The company retreated to a corner of the hall, waiting… all of a sudden a great blow shook the door. Eileen jolted and reached back for an arrow with quivering hands. She stroked the feathers, feeling them bristle against her fingers. Another blow to the door revealed a massive, thickly scaled arm and shoulder, reaching through and into the chamber. The door hinges whined loudly as the monster on the other side continued to wedge his way in. A great, toeless foot appeared at the bottom, and the door screeched loudly in protest, near to breaking. Boromir leapt forward, taking his blade against the great, dark green arm. The blow did nothing to slow the beast and only served to notch the blade and drive it from Boromir's shaking hand.

Suddenly Frodo sprang forth crying, "The Shire!" before slamming his blade, glowing blue, into the beast's slab of a foot. Miraculously the blade pierced both scale and flesh. Though the leg jerked back, Frodo held fast, and the monster seemed to fall back. Boromir took the opportunity to force the door shut once more. It wasn't long before the orcs were at the door, smashing the stone with hammers and clubs. Their foes began trickling in. It took no time at all for Boromir to go on the offensive with Aragorn by his side.

"Draw your bow," Legolas said calmly, "We may be able to pick them off."

"I'm glad you at least have faith in me…" Eileen mumbled.

"Less in your skill and more in your… luck?" he answered. If she weren't trembling in fear she might have laughed. She pulled an arrow from her quiver, taking care to nock then draw her bowstring. She took aim but hesitated to let loose an arrow. Boromir was mixed into the fray; what if she accidently shot him or Aragorn?

The orcs began pouring in and Eileen stood back with her bowstring drawn. Beside her Legolas fired an arrow and took an orc through the throat. Even though her heart pounded, she reminded herself to remember the thrill of the battle on the hilltop, the satisfaction of a hard-won kill, the bitter taste of the black blood that dappled her face. The only thudding louder than the beats of the drums in the deep was the beat of her heart. She took aim but could not bring herself to fire. She couldn't get a solid lock on a single target. How horrible would it be if I accidently shot my allies… Eileen thought sullenly, Not that an arrow would stop a guy like Boromir…

She slowly lowered her bow as Legolas imbedded another arrow in an orc's skull. Her hands shook uncontrollably, as they had during their previous battle. She stared at her hand which held her bow; she held it so firmly she could see her knuckles turning white. You have to try, damnit! She thought with frustration. Even a dog defends itself when attacked. If she froze, what did that make her? Her attention returned to the battle before her as an enormous orc, broad of shoulder and nearly as tall as Boromir, broke through the defenses. First he ducked the swing of Boromir's sword, then shield-checked the Gondorian to the ground.

Though the coals of her courage had been cool, watching Boromir pushed aside sparked a white-hot fire in her chest. She threw the bow to the ground and placed her hand against the hilt of the dagger at her thigh. She let out an animalistic cry of rage and desperation, leaping shoulder-first into Boromir's assailant. The orc had just parried a blow from Aragorn, and though his attention was divided, he caught sight of Eileen as she came barreling towards him.

Pain erupted in her shoulder as she hit the creature's solid form. Contrary to her expectations, she did not send him toppling with her. She hit him like a brick wall. Just moments after her impact, he caught her by the back of the neck like a pup. His jagged nails dug into her skin and she yelped. The orc grinned sadistically before smacking her down with the back of his hand with dizzying force. The blow sent her hurtling into a pile of rubble. A bolt of pain shot through her torso. She rolled onto her back, stunned, and found she could not pull in a breath. The impact knocked the wind right out of her. She scrambled for her dagger or her bow, her vision blurred and delayed with each movement of her head. Fortunately for the girl, the orc paid her no mind after smacking her down.

After casting the girl aside he darted forward with unfounded agility and speed. He readied his spear and before anyone could react, thrust it into Frodo's chest, pinning him against the wall. The poor Halfling's cry was cut off as he collapsed to the ground. Eileen could hear Aragorn let out a fierce cry as he cleaved the spear-wielding orc's head in two through stone helm and all. As Aragorn scooped the limp hobbit from the ground, Eileen felt herself suddenly yanked up by the back of her belt. Once on her feet Boromir caught her by the wrist.

"Now is our chance!" Gandalf cried out as the orcs scattered and fled at the sight of their chieftain defeated, "Before the troll returns!"

"Can you walk?" Boromir asked, dragging Eileen along as the company fled the out the Eastern door. She was dazed, her torso and chest complained with every breath, and her cheek throbbed hotly, but her legs seemed to be working.

"I'm fine," she insisted, holding her side as she ran alongside the man. She stopped only a brief moment to scoop up her discarded bow, slinging it over her shoulder as they pressed on.

Boromir and Eileen were the last out of the door, and Boromir vainly tried to pull the heavy door shut behind them. The hinges screamed in protest and the door could not be fastened. Eileen grabbed one of the heavy, wrought iron rings attached to the door and tried to help Boromir force it shut. Her wounds flared with a newfound pain, but she tried nonetheless. While they struggled it seemed that Frodo had miraculously not been impaled, much to the surprise of the company, Gandalf included.

And yet, that moment was not the time for wonder, as the wizard had put it. He urged the company to go forward without him, instructing them to go down and to the right at every chance. Alas, Boromir and Aragorn were reluctant to leave a companion behind… until Gandalf, none to gently, pushed Aragorn forward shouting, "Swords are no more use here!"

At first Eileen had been relieved to be free of that musky room, full of dry, dusty bones. But without the light of Gandalf's staff, the company was all but consumed by the void that was Moria. They stumbled blindly forward, all of them gripping the walls so they might make their way down the narrow stairway.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Boromir asked in an urgent whisper.

"Mostly my pride…" Eileen muttered, expending the bulk of her focus on putting one foot before the other.

"That was a valiant move, if not completely foolish," he huffed.

"Hah, well that fucker certainly didn't have any trouble knocking you on your ass, either," Eileen said breathlessly through clenched teeth, but he could hear the wry smile in her voice. If Boromir had a rebuttal he had not the chance to say it, as a great, blinding flash filled the stairway. Not a moment after Gandalf came flying down the stairs, crumpling on the landing in the center of the company.

"Holy shit!" Eileen gasped. With the stress of recent events, it seemed her coping mechanism of choice was filthy language.

The wizard staggered to his feet as he said, "Well, that's over." He had little to say of the events that transpired at the door, urging them to continue forward, though he was "quite spent." The company pressed onward for what felt an eternity, or perhaps an hour or so, before Gandalf called a halt. He spoke of what happened at the door, that he had faced a foe he had never fought before that had overpowered him, though the chamber above had collapsed, barring any further pursuit.

Eileen was glad for a halt as the pain in her torso grew sharper as they went on, making every breath feel as though it were specked with needles. She reached up to touch her face, already swollen and erythematous where the orc chieftain had struck her. She drew her hand away quickly when a stab of pain resulted from the light touch. What had she been thinking, charging the orc blindly? She meant to pull out her dagger and attempt a stab, but in the passion of the moment had completely forgotten.

All she knew was that Boromir was in danger, as vulnerable as she had ever seen him in battle, and upon seeing this had found herself consumed with rage and terror on his behalf. It should have been her signal that shit really hit the fan and she should stay back, not jump in. But she'd be damned if she regretted her actions. It was the most direct attack she had made thus far, a step towards learning to fight without freezing up.

"Are you certain you are alright?" Boromir asked.

"I can manage," Eileen answered, "How about you?"

"How about me?" Boromir asked haughtily.

"Your ass, I mean. Stone floor can't feel too nice, you know, after that orc put you on your ass."

The most genuine, toothy, amused smile spread across his face, it seemed to brighten the dim corridor. "At least I did not block with my face," he retorted.

"Good thing, it's hard enough to look at as it is," Eileen said.

"And yours is improved," Boromir answered.

"And I shall knock your heads together if you do not silence yourselves!" Gandalf barked. The wizard rose tiredly. The others had been speaking but she hadn't caught a word of what had been said; something about fire. Were the mines aflame? They were on their way again before Eileen had the chance to investigate. It didn't take long before she discovered her answer anyway. In the distance a flickering, red light cast a fearsome light on their faces. The air here was thick with heat. It hit Eileen like a wave and she grimaced against it. The company came to an arch where Gandalf signaled for them to wait.

"Fire…" Eileen whispered, then turned to the dwarf. "Gimli, do you know what was mined here… aside from the mithril they mentioned in the log book?" Gimli thought a moment and only remarked that Moria was known for the abundance of precious metals. As far as he knew, they might have found anything. Eileen's eyes grew wide. "If there's coal or natural gas here… we're so fucked, we need to get out of here." The hobbits' eyes grew wide and their red-lit faces turned to Aragorn. Even Boromir seemed concerned.

"I am nearly certain we have no need to fear a coal fire," Aragorn said, "Though it would seem we have a more pressing concern at hand."

Gandalf returned with a grave expression on his wizened face. "There is some new devilry here," he said. He went on to describe the path that lay before them before they would reach an exit from those dreaded mines. The company hastened into a chamber so vast Eileen hardly believed it existed within the mountain itself. Despite the wide space, the heat intensified and Eileen groaned. They pressed onward as the drum-beat from before grew near. Shrill orc cries and cacophonous horn blows filled he hall.

"Now for the last race! If the sun is shining outside, we may still escape. After me!" Gandalf commanded, and their pace quickened. Eileen reeled against the heat, the stabbing pain in her torso, and the throbbing of her face, but she did not fall behind. She would not fall behind. Her breaths came in ragged huffs. Arrows began to whiz past, one whistling just past her ear, another imbedding itself in Gandalf's tall hat. A rising panic filled Eileen's chest. It was too hot, they were running too fast, and she was doomed to the same fate as a pincushion. At least the orcs were caught on the other side of the fire, unable to cross over to where the company made their escape.

"The bridge is near!" Gandalf called out, "It is narrow and dangerous."

A blackness darker than that surrounding them opened just ahead. A sliver of a stone bridge spanned the unknowable depths. More arrows flew, one even bounced off of Frodo as if he were carved of the same stone that made the halls. Legolas halted, drew his bow, and took aim. Before he could loose an arrow his arms dropped and his arrow dropped harmless to the ground. He cried out in dismay.

All the company looked back to find that two massive trolls hauled great slabs of stone to make a pass through the flames. An insurmountable force of orcs waited to cross the only barrier between the Fellowship and their foes. And yet, something else hovered in the darkness.

"A balrog!" wailed Legolas. All the company halted, staring at the shadowy beast slowly stepping towards them. Even the orcs fell silent in fear. Its form seemed to consume the light about it like a black hole.

"What is that?" Eileen whimpered, shrinking against Boromir's side, "What… what is that thing?" He silently reached for his horn and put it to his lips. The horn rang out, clear and strong, and the balrog halted. She squeezed the cloth of his sleeve, forgetting to breathe. Boromir stood with his chin held high; if he were afraid he did not show it. "Tell me to be brave…" Eileen whispered.

"You will be brave," he commanded, as if he were speaking to a young recruit. Eileen swallowed and released the man's sleeve.

"Over the bridge!" called Gandalf. Aragorn and Boromir made no move to leave the wizard's side, and so did Eileen stay, though stepping a few strides behind the two men. She brought forth her bow and knocked an arrow. She glanced back to find the rest of the company stood just before the doorway leading out of the hall.

The balrog approached slowly, regarding Gandalf with contempt. It raised a whip and cracked it, as if to threaten the wizard. Eileen winced; she could feel the sound waves of the harsh snap. "You cannot pass!" Gandalf said with command in his voice.

Eileen drew back her arrow and tried to put on a hard face. Her overtaxed mind seemed to shut down and her cacophonous thoughts quelled. She felt nothing, not even the sting of her bowstring digging into her fingers through her glove, not the strain of her triceps, the hot ache of her wounds… nothing.

Aragorn and Boromir charged, Eileen released her arrow, and Gandalf brought down his staff. The bridge crumbled beneath the devilish creature and it fell before their eyes. Eileen very nearly smiled, but in a fraction of a second, the balrog cracked its whip, catching Gandalf around his knees. The wizard struggled to grip the stone a moment before plummeting into the abyss below. The last they heard was him shout, "Fly you fools!"

Eileen stood too stunned to move. The orcs at the other side released a volley of arrows, and next she knew she found herself thrown across Boromir's shoulder. Her bow clattered to the ground and she watched with dull eyes as it disappeared in the darkness. The fires went out and a curtain of darkness fell around them. The bridge crumbled behind as Aragorn and Boromir, with Eileen in tow, crossed to the other side. Her bow was now wherever Gandalf had gone…

"Come! I will lead you now!" Aragorn called as they rejoined the company, "We must obey his last command! Follow me!"

They passed through another corridor, and another. A hall filled with sunlight opened before them. They dashed across and suddenly found themselves under the brilliant, bright, wonderful, precious, golden sun. Eileen could only hear the clomping of Boromir's boots against the ground. They came upon a band of orcs, but so fierce was Aragorn's face that they fled in terror.

When they cleared the band of orcs, Boromir gingerly placed Eileen back on her feet and she took off running immediately. They ran… and then some more. When at last the time came for a halt, Eileen could not bring her legs to stop. Boromir followed after her tiredly and gripped her by the shoulder. She spun; her eyes were wild and wide.

"It's alright," he said, barely above a whisper.

"Gandalf it… it took…" Eileen murmured faintly, "I can still see the mountain, we have to keep going."

He shook his head and looked away. He stepped towards her, unable to meet her eye, and slowly brought her into an embrace. She was too bewildered to do much else but stand there numbly. His arms held her more tightly, and she seemed to wake from her dazed state. She was shaking… no, he was shaking; no, not shaking he… he was crying, silently. Through her peripheral vision she could see the others just behind, some collapsed on the ground and sobbing, others standing still and weeping quietly to themselves. He bowed his head so that it was against her shoulder. She could feel his tears on her cheek. A part of her desperately wished she could cry, but the tears would not come; she was still too stunned to encode the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside.

Time passed and they slowly picked themselves off the ground. Boromir refused to let her go for the duration of the stop. Neither said anything as Aragorn called for the company to continue forward. They passed Mirromere where Gimli, Frodo, and Sam took a moment to gaze into the glassy waters, and the spring of the Silverlode as well. Eileen could not muster the curiosity to wonder about either. She had no desire to speak to anyone, not even Boromir, who also remained silent for a long while. The company spent long hours marching in haste. The girl's hurts only grew worse but she had no desire to make mention of it; she wanted to be out of the sight of the mountain. Even so, the company had need of a halt, as Frodo and Sam lagged behind, no doubt a result of their wounds.

Now that she could take a calm, lucid moment her pain fully caved in. Her cheek still burned and throbbed, her shoulder ached with even the slightest movement, and a stabbing pain shot through her torso at every breath. While Aragorn tended Sam and Frodo, Boromir approached Eileen at the outer edge of their camp.

He sat down before her and frowned deeply, raising a hand carefully to her face. "How bad does it look?" Eileen asked colorlessly. Right away Boromir could sense she was not herself. Either she had not allowed herself to process the grief, or simply could not in her current state. Many new recruits reacted similarly to their first loss in battle. For some, simple human contact or watching others process the loss facilitated the release of emotion, others preferred to talk about it, while some needed time to be alone. Eileen had ample opportunity for all of the above… Perhaps a distraction? Humor? He wondered.

"Horrible," he answered teasingly, "How bad does it feel?"

"It's worse than the time Michael Maloney punched me in the face when we were kids…" Eileen muttered, thinking back to her first fist fight with a neighborhood boy. She had kneed the boy in the gut and he dealt her a swift left to the mouth. She had a fat lip for over a week.

"A boy punched you in the face when you were a child?" he asked incredulously.

"Yea, but it's possible I might have started it," Eileen explained.

"…I do not suppose I am surprised," he said after a moment. He gently grazed the angry, swollen bump on her face. A half-grin managed to break through his serious expression. "What were you thinking?" he asked with a single shake of his head. What have you done to your face? he thought. Freckles, sunburn, they added charm to her features, but she could do without the shiner. Her lovely face… came a thought unbidden.

"I guess… I was trying to protect you for a change," she grumbled, "Although, I guess I might have chosen a better weapon than my face."

"You need not protect me," Boromir said as he reached into his pack for a bit of ointment. A part of him was flattered, even proud. Even so, she had not chosen the best course of action, in his opinion. He carefully dabbed the ointment it onto her face where the skin had broken and she flinched.

"But I wanted to," Eileen said, "I… I really don't know what I was thinking, I just did it… anyways, I think that creepy orc scratched the back of my neck when he grabbed me." She drew her hair away from her neck to reveal shallow scratches and smeared, old blood. Boromir carefully cleaned the wounds then applied a generous dab of ointment to the scrapes. There was no telling what kind of filth got under an orc's fingernails. When finished Eileen pulled her hair into a high ponytail, only to remember her leather strip had broken. She sighed and let it fall back onto her shoulders. She met Boromir's eye. "Stop staring at my face, you're making me self-conscious… my ribs hurt when I breath, and my chest, too," Eileen said.

"In what way?" he asked.

"It's sharp, and it hurts the most when I inhale," she said, "Every time my feet hit the ground it hurts, just jostling in any way… I might have broken something, I think."

"Let me see," he said, taking on an all-business tone. By this point in time, and all things considered, the company would not find it scandalous for her to show some skin for the sake of treating an injury. And yet, as she stood up and unbuckled her belt she could feel Boromir's eyes on her. She gripped each layer of her shirts in her hands and lifted her tunic until it was just below her breasts. Of course, she was wearing breeches so the only skin revealed was that around her torso. The right side was black and purple. He carefully palpated the bruised area and Eileen hissed in pain. "Did I break anything..?" she asked grimacing.

"Not broken, but fractured at the very least, this bruising is very bad," he answered. He went into his pack and brought forth a roll of bandaging. "I had not thought you struck your foe with such force…"

"Yea, well, I may not be good with a bow or a dagger, but I can roughhouse just as hard as the boys," Eileen boasted, swelling with pride. There she is, Boromir thought with relief. Then she added, "But truthfully, I think this happened when I hit the rocks."

"As you say," he said, as he always did when he was dismissing her silliness. Still, she could hear a smile in his voice whenever he said it. Every time he said it she felt warm.

He placed his hand on her waist, gripping her just above the hip to steady her as he began wrapping the bandage about her ribs. His hands were so warm and wonderfully rough, and she liked the way it felt against her skin. As he worked the bandage around and around, his hand slid back, grazing over what an ex had jokingly described as her "kick spot," like the area on a dog that if you scratch, their leg will kick and kick. It was the one place on her body that made her squirm and shiver in the most pleasant way…

And squirm she did, goosbumps rising up her entire left side. "Mmf…" Eileen squeaked unintentionally. Boromir could feel her skin prickle beneath his fingers. He stopped and slowly looked up at her. They had spent months traveling together, through exhaustion, pain, annoyance, slumber, and laughter, and he had never elicited any such reaction from her. "What?" Eileen asked when Boromir did not continue. Her face flushed a red deep enough that the wound on her face became notable only by the swelling. He suddenly became acutely aware of the way he gripped her waist, feeling her skin against his hand, just as soft as he remembered from the scratch on her stomach. Why did he still remember it, why did he think about it sometimes, or think about touching… He tried to think of something to say but there was a lump in his throat.

"That's… erm…" Eileen mumbled, "That's a very ticklish spot."

"Hold still…" he muttered, "I did not mean to… tickle you." He moved his hand down to her hip to avoid the "spot." Though the move did not make the girl squirm, it did bring on a wave of dirty thoughts. He could feel her hip bone and thought of how it might feel to pull her against him by the hips, holding them as he hovered over her, and…

"Turn around," he ordered suddenly.

"Okay…" Eileen said. However, as before, while the previous thought was extricated from his mind, a new one came about, only this time he wondered about how her bare bottom might look, taking note of the way her waist drew inward before curving out into her hips. He sped up his wrapping.

"Ow!" Eileen hissed, "Does it have to be so tight?"

"Oh, no," he answered, halting and unraveling the bandages a few times. They were silent until he finished the wrap, winding back upwards as he finished. He tucked the loose end underneath the rest of the wrapping at the top. His knuckles ever so lightly grazed her breast and Eileen stiffened.

"Where else did you hurt yourself?" Boromir asked. He noticed she was still holding her shirt up. He could a faint line down the center of her stomach, an ever so subtle hint muscle definition. A strong woman is uncomely, he tried to remind himself, but he was drawn to the faint musculature. "You can put your shirts down," he muttered, "Did you not say you injured your shoulder as well?

"Oh… yea," Eileen said. She struggled to chase off her own lustful thoughts. What if I said my inner thigh hurt, she thought, Would you touch me there, too? "My shoulder. The pain radiates to my chest," she answered at length.

Boromir thought for a moment and sighed. "Can you pull your shirt away from where you were injured?" he asked. Eileen nodded and tugged at the collar of her shirt, then the shirt beneath it, but she found the shirt of mail would not give. Boromir tried to examine what he could see with her pulling her clothes out of the way but he could hardly see. The effort of yanking her shirt down made her wounds throb.

"For god's sake," Eileen said with exasperation, "Fuck it, I don't care."

She grabbed each layer of her shirts and swiftly yanked them over her head. Of course, she regretted the motion instantly, as every wound in her body complained. Boromir quickly looked away, shielding his eyes with his hand. "What? You can't see any of the good stuff," Eileen grunted, her hands on her hips.

"Are you covered?" Boromir asked, reluctant to look.

"Enough," Eileen said.

He risked a glimpse and found that… she was wearing a very strange undergarment, unlike any he had ever seen. It did, indeed, cover "the good stuff." "What is that?" he asked.

"Haven't you ever seen a bra before?" she said. Now that he was looking straight at her all of her rogue confidence began to drain away.

"No," he admitted. Eileen paused a moment.

"Have you… ever been with a woman..?" she asked carefully.

"Yes," he answered. She should have known better than to think he would be flustered by a question like that, or be embarrassed to admit to it. "But none of them wore whatever that is."

"Seriously? God, that sounds awful, I don't know what I'd do without it," she said aghast, "You really think I could run for hours on end with my tits bouncing all over the place? Hell no, this locks 'em down," she said, actually grabbing her breasts with her hands to demonstrate, "It is the greatest invention ever created!"

Boromir covered his mouth with his hand. Secretly he wanted to burst out laughing, she could be so crass and ridiculous. In some ways it was… endearing. No, absolutely not, this is absurd. Boromir insisted to himself. Then, as if her own self-awareness struck her across the face, she froze. She suddenly crossed her arms across her chest self-consciously.

"Anyways, aren't you supposed to be taking care of my injuries?" Eileen grumbled, "I promise you won't see anything scandalous…"

"This has gone far beyond scandalous…" Boromir muttered. He thought to ask where she was injured but he could see it plain as day. Her shoulder was purple and yellow, as was her chest. His eyes wandered downwards… the way she held her arms crossed pushed her breasts up and together. Only the topmost part of her right breast was bruised. Boromir looked away quickly and said, "There is nothing I can do for you. It will have to heal on its own."

"You don't… have to wrap it?"

"The bruising is bad, but nothing appears broken," Boromir answered.

"How can you tell?" Eileen asked.

"If you broke your collarbone or shoulder, you would not be moving your arm at all and would be in much more pain," he answered.

"Yea…" Eileen said, "That makes sense."

"Now, please put your shirts back on," Boromir said. As she turned around, he caught a glimpse of something colorful on her back. "Wait," he said.

"Huh?" Eileen asked, turning her head to look at him.

He stepped closer. There was a large tattoo in the center of her upper back. Three triangles formed into one large one surrounded by circles, each of a different color and containing a simple symbol on the inside. "What is this marking on your back?" he asked, reaching out to touch it without thinking. He was becoming far too familiar with the girl and retracted his hand.

"Marking..? Oh, do you mean my tattoo?" Eileen asked, "I mean, it's just that. A tattoo."

"Why would you have such a thing?" he asked, puzzled and even a little suspicious.

"I… I like the way it looks… like how I liked my lip piercing," she answered.

"What do this symbols mean?" Boromir asked.

She thought a moment, trying to remember… but nothing was forthcoming. "I don't remember," she admitted.

"Did it not hurt?"

"Sure," Eileen said, "But it wasn't unbearable, as far as I can recall. Although, I've heard that women have an easier time with tattoos than men."

"I doubt that," Boromir said.

"Women have a higher pain tolerance," Eileen said. There was no hint of argument or arrogance in her voice, she said it as a scholar might site any well-known fact. To her, the bit of information simply was what it was.

"What gives you that impression?"Boromir asked.

"That's an easy one," Eileen said with a wry smile, "Childbirth."

Boromir folded his arms but could not make a good argument against it. "I suppose," he allowed, though he seemed to grow sad at the mention of it, so the girl dropped the discussion.

Eileen finished pulling her tunic over her head and began buckling her belt. She found him staring at her. "What?" she asked. Instead of her usually snippy tone, her voice was warm and gentle. A faint, crooked smile appeared on her face.

He shook his head and waved his hand, "Nothing."

"Really, what is it?" she tried again.

"Are you alright?" he asked, "After everything that has happened?"

She bit her lip and nodded, "Yea… don't worry about me." She recognized doubt in his expression. "I'm not a big crier," she explained, "But trust me, I'm… I'm okay." He placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

"As you say."

In the next chapter of Show Me the Way Home, the company goes to Lothlorien!

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