Someone is shaking me.
"Elaina? Wake up! It's nearly midday!"
I am going to kill Boromir.
"Have you ever heard of rest? Do you people not get it?" My eyes were still closed, and I let out a growl, trying to shake a strong hand from my shoulder.
"Go away! I'm sleeping!"
"Really?" he asked, and I heard the amusement in his voice. Ten bucks says I open my eyes and his hands are on his hips.
"A bed, Boromir! I have a bed! Not moss. Not stone. Not grass. Not a freaking URUK'S SHOULDER. A b-e-d, BED!"
Okay, a little over the top. But believe me, this soft mass of pillows has been in my dreams for about three months. You would yell too.
It's kind of creepy, the funny modern gestures he takes from me. I opened my eyes, and his hands were sitting on his hips. He rolled his eyes, striding toward the door.
"Where are you going?" I asked, considerably more pleasantly.
A small grin hit his face, like he was remembering some inside joke. "In case you didn't know, Slug," he chided, "It's not exactly proper for me to be in here right now. But someone had to wake you before the meeting."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I don't want to be around when someone finds out I'm in a lady's bedchambers before she's presentable. Especially if that someone is Legolas."
Hmmm, I thought. Now that would be funny…
"Oh, come on! I'm fully clothed…" I grinned wickedly. "Or, I think I am." I began to lift the covers off, as if to check.
You should have seen it. I think his face went six shades redder. "Okay," he choked, "Leaving—now."
I laughed loudly, pushing the blanket off (to reveal my fully-clothed self) and promptly forgot my annoyance at being woken up.
"Chill, Babe. I was joking."
"Right." He stopped, crossing his arms over his chest. His ears were still a bit pink. "Well. We have a funeral to attend."
Oh, bugger.
I hate funerals. With a passion.
But, suddenly, I had a much more pressing matter to address.
"Oh, wait!" I said when he turned to leave. "Boromir—what do I wear?"
He huffed cutely—the way men do when you ask them to hold your purse while going shopping. I smiled pleadingly. He muttered something that sounds suspiciously like 'women' under his breath, giving an exasperated shrug.
"Fine!" I called after him, pouting, "I suppose I'm on my own, then!"
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Funerals suck. Truly.
When in ended, everyone came inside the hall, sitting down to eat. No one was really in the mood to talk, so it was unbearably silent except for the quiet talk of some of the soldiers and guards.
Geez. You'd think their prince died or something.
Oh, yeah…
The silence was broken when Eowyn came in, ushering two small children onto a bench. They looked exhausted; their faces were smudged with dirt and streaked with tears. These were the ones from the destroyed village. I shook my head in a gesture of sympathy, nudging to Boromir. He turned and his eyes glazed over painfully. Obviously, he knew this was serious.
"Orcs." I whispered simply. Boromir nodded in understanding, guessing who they were.
I sighed. I couldn't even imagine having to leave my home because of war. Maybe not knowing if your family was still whole.
Slowly, the throng of people cleared the hall, and Théoden came in to sit on his throne. The only ones left were the boys, Eowyn, Gandalf, Théoden, and me.
"They had no warning," said Eowyn, stroking the little girl's head. She looked pointedly at Théoden, expecting him to call the army out immediately.
Sorry, girl. Not gonna happen that easy.
"They were unarmed. Now the wildmen are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go. Rick, cot, and tree."
"Where is Mama?" Beside me, Boromir stiffened.
"Théoden is wasting time," he whispered, so only I could hear. "This isn't going to stop, especially since she went crawling back to Saruman." I nodded, narrowing my eyes at the memory of her blade at my neck. How many others had she threatened with her sword? Children like these? Or was she just a selfish coward who was using the quest to her own ends?
Bickering went on between the three; Gandalf, Théoden, and Aragorn. I thought about interjecting something about Grima and Saruman not expecting them to stay in Meduseld, but Helm's Deep was just too important.
Legolas kept looking at me, waiting for me to say something. He knew I had some sense of forewarning, and hoped I could help with the situation. I shook my head slightly, not wanting to be drawn into it. If I changed anything, that was it. I screw up Middle Earth.
"Open war is upon you. Whether you would risk it or not!" Aragorn finished with a small glare.
Oh crap. Warning: do not piss Théoden off.
If it wasn't Aragorn making the comment, I would think he was an idiot. (Not to say he already wasn't a slight idiot. Future kings certainly are…)
"Last I looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan!"
C'mon, grandpa. Help him out.
"Then what is the King's decision?" asked Gandalf exasperatedly.
He looked trapped.
Two words. I'll let you guess what he said.
Of course, not bloody anywhere, except—
"Helm's Deep."
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I was back to my room, to ONCE AGAIN, bloody pack my bags— Goodbye Bed, pillows, blanket. Sayonara bath (which I had taken the night before) with nice warm water and—
Oh yeah. Back to the story.
I heard muffled voices out in the hall. Pissed off voices. No.
Livid voices.
I picked up a few words, and stilled when I heard my name. My heart jumped in my throat. Practically bounding to the door, the voices got progressively louder until they were right outside my room. The dread rocks were back with vengeance.
The voice, which I recognized as Aragorn's, called me angrily out of my room.
I tripped over my feet to get to the hallway.
Yeah, he was that scary.
I came out, face to face with Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli.
As I looked at each of them, I sensed a range of emotions.
Not good. Not. Effing. Good.
"What?" I asked rather meekly.
"Elaina," said Aragorn. There was a definite warning in his tone. His eyes were cold.
What the hell did I do? They all just stood there, as if I were about to confess to putting drugs in Théoden's tea or something.
First reaction: It was Haldir. (Trust an elf to frame you at every possible moment in Lothlorien. Even if you were the least bit-innocently, I might add- involved in it somehow…)
"What is this?" he finally asked.
He was holding up something.
A book.
Not just any book.
One that had Frodo's face plastered on the front of it, reading 'The Lord of the Rings; The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, and The Return of the King.'
Oh.
My.
God.
My book.
I gasped, trying desperately to fight the urge to grab it defensively from his hands. I was shaking all over.
"I… It's…" I began, clearing my dry throat, "It's not what you think!"
I looked to Gandalf for help. He gave me the exact same look my dad did when he found out I had snuck out one night to go to a party with Lindsay.
Disappointment. Like he knew I was smarter than that. It must be a universal thing, with these parental units.
Before I could say anything more, Aragorn shoved it back into my hands.
"I never want to see that again. Understood?" His voice left absolutely no room for any of my words.
I could only nod.
How could I explain myself? To them, I was any of their worst threats— a traitor, a fool, a burden, a risk. An accident waiting to happen.
What could I say? They certainly wouldn't believe me. I kept silent, praying they would just forget they ever saw it.
Pff. Not bloody likely.
With one last glare, he strode off, leaving the others in his wake. His angry footsteps echoed all the way down the hall, each one loudly sounding in my mind. Gandalf shook his head, going after Aragorn. He turned back to look at me, and for a moment I saw a kindly grandfather looking back at me, about to go and protect me again.
You have no idea how grateful I was then. He left.
I glanced back at Legolas, meeting a pair of painfully blank eyes.
He was summing me up, like before, when I had just met them all. Trying to figure me out, to find if I was really deserving of his trust again.
Which I wasn't. I didn't deserve anyone's trust. I had put them in danger. If the book had somehow gotten into Morwenna's hands, or Saruman's, it would be all over. I would be the crown of Sauron and the downfall of their world.
Obviously in that moment, Legolas found something worth trusting. He threw me a thoughtful— almost soft— look, then patted Gimli on the back. They both left without a word.
I have no idea how long I stood in the doorway of my room. I was barely breathing, barely registering all the questions that hit my mind.
How did the book get out of my things? How had I forgotten it? What would they think I had done?
"Elaina?" came a quiet voice from down the hallway. Someone turned the corner.
It was Boromir.
"Gimli told me…" he began, but stopped. Thank freaking Jesus, Buddha, Rama, Allah— whoever— he didn't look mad, like Aragorn. I really couldn't bear it if Boromir's eyes went icy like Aragorn's did.
"What?" I asked, the jest in my voice weak. "That I'm an incredibly stupid jackass and I'm more trouble than I'm worth?" I looked away, trying to keep him from seeing how close I was to crying like a temperamental teenager. "Because I am," I finished. There was a hint of desperation in my voice. For the first time since I had gotten there, I felt the sharp pang of absolute homesickness.
He didn't know what to say. He was just as shocked as I was.
"Well—" he said, looking incredulously at me, "I didn't realize you were so valuable to us."
I stopped cold.
My eyes met his, and something else tugged at me. Not shame. Not self-pity. Not distress.
Anger.
Mind you, it wasn't well placed. I really had no right to be angered by his words. For all intensive purposes, they were true. I was really quite useless to them. I wasn't a soldier, or a wizard, or someone sought out for their great advice or knowledge. But I had become completely devoted. I wanted to become more than what I was before—a mess of modern teenage shallowness, with nothing to fight for or believe in.
Selfish.
I wanted to be like them, like the soldiers, and the wizards. Someone with a purpose other than to convert oxygen into carbon-dioxide and use up the world's supply of fossil fuels. Someone who could be proud of their life.
Most of all, I wanted to be like him. Like Boromir—the ultimate hero.
So, I was pissed off. In fact, a bit beyond pissed off.
You can imagine my reaction when I was basically told 'Hey, I thought you were just here to tag along. You weren't actually supposed to mean anything to us…'
I snapped from my reverie, slamming the door on his unreadable face.
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I was alone in my room, and I hurled the book into the fireplace with all the strength I had.
I had one thought.
I wanted to leave.
I couldn't stand another minute there. All the wonder, the awe at being there began to wear off. I couldn't stand staying, thinking I was just dead weight. I needed to be alone, away from anyone who didn't understand my frustration. Because, truthfully, I was thinking of only how terribly easy it would be for me to go back to my old shallow life at home. I didn't want to be that selfish person anymore, but I remembered just how easy it was to be that way.
So, as you now realize, I made a pretty stupid decision.
I wasn't staying there another minute.
As soon as I could, I was leaving.
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TO BE CONTINUED…
A/N: Hahaha. I laugh in your shocked face.
Then again- sorry. I had to do it… this story needs more juicy conflict… And Elaina isn't one for rational thinking. Be real.
Please review! I LOVE to hear reviews. It makes me want to write more when I get a review! (So, review… Duh!)
Oh, and don't worry. Her Highness, the Sue, makes an appearance VERY soon. Can you guess why? Hint: I am grinning wickedly right now.