Chapter 21- Rivendell

Hey guys… wow… talk about hiatus! To answer some of you, no, I have not fallen off the face of the earth… just had a LOT of other stuff going. Phanfiction was monopolizing ALL of my time… (so if you like Phantom, check em out!) Anyway… I hope this story can still generate some attention… please review so I know if its worth continuing! Tasha- as always, thanks for reviewing every chapter! And to all my other reviewers, you all rock hard core! Lastly… I apologize if the first part of this chapter seems fragmented… I wrote it a li-t-t-t-t-le bit at a time… and I think it shows! Anyway, read, review and enjoy, as always!

Boromir did not wake up until much later in the day. Marina was sitting by his bedside when he came to, having almost fallen asleep.

"Morning, beautiful," he said brightly.

"Morning?" she snorted. "Its long past midday."

"Right," he said flatly, propping himself up.

"How's the leg?" she questioned, noticing how he winced in pain as he sat up.

"Just great," he said sarcastically. "I know, I know. Men are babies," he said, seeing the look on her face.

Marina laughed- for what felt like the first time in days. "I spoke with the innkeeper- pretty amiable fellow named Deegan," she said, "He said he could give us two horses when we're ready to leave."

"Good," said Boromir, swinging his legs out of the bed. "How much did you tell him?" he asked.

"Not much. I told him we were traveling north, toward Rivendell."

Boromir nodded, getting up and walking around experimentally. He tested out his leg, trying to hide the pain that I know was excruciating.

"We can leave tomorrow," he said suddenly.

Marina raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

Boromir nodded. "I'll be ready."

The two began riding the next day, leaving before daybreak and heading north. The day was uneventful- for which both were thankful, and at night, they stopped and made camp. Sitting by the fire in Boromir's arms, Marina felt safe and warm, and more at home than she had ever felt during her childhood. This was right, she thought. This was home. At that moment, she thought, she wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and wake up the same way.

"We should be nearing Fangorn Forest," Boromir commented, stroking her mahogany hair gently.

"Mmmm," she responded sleepily.

"But we'll go around. There are many things in that forest that could be either good or evil."

"How much longer till we reach Rivendell?"

"A week or so."

"Dark days are coming," Marina said quietly. "If the Ring has been found... the Dark Lord, he has been waiting years for this to happen. If he obtains it... the race of men is doomed." she paused, entwining her fingers with Boromir's, thinking. "What will happen when we reach Rivendell? What will the elves be able to do against the wrath of Mordor?"

Boromir shook his head. "Nothing is certain yet. We must wait and see..."

Five days later, they arrived in Rivendell.

Even from afar, the elven refuge was a beautiful sight. It was in a valley, surrounded by a waterfall and enormous, tall trees in varying hues of gold, red, orange and brown. The elven dwellings were built right into the trees- tall, winding structures, intricate and complex. In all her life, Marina had never seen anything so beautiful. How wonderful it must be to be an Elf, she thought, to live around this great beauty every day. As she soon realized, she and Boromir were not the only ones arriving in Rivendell that day. Up ahead, Marina saw a tall, thin elf with sharp, striking features dismounting a gray mare. Upon seeing him, Boromir said that he was from the realm of Mirkwood- an Elven prince. (A/N: guess who?) There were also several short, stocky men with wild beards.

"Dwarves," Boromir whispered under his breath. "Mountain-dwellers." He jumped down from his horse, and then helped Marina down, even though she was perfectly capable of doing so herself.

An elf came forward, rigid and stern-looking.

He had long, dark hair and eyes that looked like he had seen many winters. His figure and presence were dominating- there was an air of authority around him.

Boromir lowered his head in a short bow. "Lord Elrond. I am Boromir of Gondor."

"Welcome, Lord, Boromir," said the elf.

The Elf-lord turned his gaze to Marina, meeting her eyes with eyes that were as dark as the night sky, and as cold as stone. Under his watchful stare, she felt as though her mind was on display before him, that he had the power to see inside of her, and that he was staring into the depths of the secrets that she was trying so desperately to conceal.

Seeing his skepticism over her, Boromir quickly explained. "This is Marina. She is from Gondor."

"She travels with you?"

"Yes my lord."

Elrond's eyes lingered on Marina for another uncomfortable moment, before he spoke again. "The council will convene tomorrow," he said. "There we shall meet to discuss the fate of Middle Earth."

With a wave of his hand, two younger elves appeared, leading Boromir and Marina into the Elven city.

A half hour later, Marina found herself sitting alone in a beautiful bedchamber. Through the open window, she could hear the soft, steady rush of the waterfall, and the chirping of the birds in the trees. Never before had she known nature itself to be so full of music, she thought, feeling a great peaceful feeling flood over her. She moved over to the balcony that overlooked Rivendell. Leaning against the balcony railing, she rested her chin on her hand, losing herself in reverie. How magnificent it must be to live there. Perhaps she and Boromir could someday live in a place as beautiful as this… away from duty and Gondor and secrets. They could start a family… Marina's heart fluttered at the thought. When she had begun her journey, all those months ago in the mountains of Mordor, love was the last thing she had expected to find. It was almost as though the fiery Mari who had once lived for the thrill of the fight was completely gone. The thought didn't sadden her as much as she thought it would.

A soft knock sounded from the door, and a second later, Boromir entered.

Marina smiled at him, but turned her wistful gaze back out to the elven city.

She heard him come up behind her, putting his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"And what is my little warrior dreaming about today?" he asked softly.

Marina smiled at the sound of his voice, the feel of his breath tickling her ear.

"And why would my dreams concern a Captain of Gondor?" she asked.

"Perhaps because the Captain of Gondor is so captivated, his mind is driven mad wondering…"

Marina laughed. "Might I suggest finding a more stimulating hobby?"

Boromir grunted in contemplation. "And what, perchance, would you suggest, my lady?" he asked, a smile playing around his lips.

"I'm sure if you thought hard enough you could think of something…"

She turned her head, and their lips met, gently at first, then becoming more forceful. Boromir turned her body to face him, arms siding around her waist, pulling her to him possessively. He had almost lost himself in the moment, when suddenly an outside force penetrated his senses. It was the strangest sensation he had ever felt, it was as though something were alive inside of him, stirring. It burned… but not from love… it burned from evil.

He pulled away from Marina quickly, taking his hands off of her.

"Boromir?" she asked worriedly. "What is it?"

He said nothing, turning to the balcony, gripping the thin iron until his knuckles turned white. His eyes fell to the ground below, where two peculiarly short men were standing. One was rather thin, with dark curly hair, the other, larger and fair.

There was something, Boromir thought. Something was radiating from these men… the feeling he had felt was coming from down there, he could feel it within him.

"Boromir?" Marina's voice sounded again. He felt her hand on his arm. "Please… what's wrong?"

He turned to face her and saw the concern in her eyes.

"Nothing," he said gruffly, clearing his throat. "Forgive me. I should go…"

He turned away.

"Boromir…" Marina said questioningly, confusion in her voice.

This merited no response. Marina felt her temper flare. What in the name of the Valar did he think he was doing? Walking out with no explanation when he had been perfectly happy just two minutes before?

She walked briskly to the door, putting her hand over the knob before he could leave.

"You're not leaving," she said. "until you tell me what just happened."

He met her eyes. "It was nothing. I simply need time alone." There was a strangeness to his voice as he said this. There was an emotion that Marina could not pinpoint, and it troubled her.

Nevertheless, she moved her hand away from the door, though hoping that Boromir would not leave.

He did.

Without a further word, he was gone.

The door closed quietly behind him, and Marina threw herself onto her bed in frustration. What had just happened, she wondered? Feeling suddenly out of place and alone, she curled up on the soft pillows, gazing out the window at the falling night, prepared to wait until Boromir decided to return.

After darkness had fallen that night, Boromir found himself walking aimlessly through the narrow corridors of Rivendell. He felt restless, something was tugging at him… he knew he should return to Marina… he had left earlier without any explanation, but every time he began to walk toward her chamber, he would stop and turn the other way.

The corridor he was in slowly began to widen, and after a few more paces, Boromir found himself in a small, open chamber where three hallways seemed to converge. His eyes shifted to an engraving on the wall, of a knight wielding a broken sword before an imposing figure that Boromir knew was the Dark Lord Sauron. His eyes lingered on the valiant face of the knight for a moment, and then he turned. In the center of the room was a statue of an elven maiden, cloaked, holding a stone slab in her hand. On top of the stone was a sword, broken into six pieces. He stepped up to the statue, realizing at once what he was looking at.

"The Shards of Narsil," he breathed to himself, reaching out to pick up the short hilt of the sword. "The blade that cut the Ring… from Sauron's own hand…" He touched the tip of his forefinger to the end of the blade. With a little pressure, it drew blood. He winced. "Still sharp…"

It was then that he felt a pair of eyes on him, watching his every move. He turned his head slowly, and met the eyes of a dark haired man, sitting silently in the corner.

The man's intense eyes were unsettling; there was a regal air about him.

Boromir cleared his throat, quickly dropping the sword back on the stone slab. "No more than a broken end," he said stubbornly.

He turned away as the sword clanged to the ground. The noise stopped him, but pride prevented him from turning around. He walked away, back down the corridor he had come, still feeling unsettled. His father's words swam to the surface of his mind… If such a tool were to fall into our hands, think of how powerful we could be…

Denethor was counting on him, he knew. He was counting on his son to bring the Ring to Gondor. Boromir let out a sigh. He knew that the kingdom was not what it once had been. His father was aging… he wanted to see Gondor restored to its former glory. Perhaps, he thought, if he was to return with the Ring, Denethor would agree to let him choose his own wife. Perhaps it would open up a door for he and Marina. With this resolution in mind, his thoughts cleared a little. The feeling he had had earlier was not completely gone… it was like a dull pain that now sat in his chest; a feeling of foreboding that seemed as though it had been a part of him forever. Reluctant to return to Marina's room, he found his way to another open balcony, and stood for the next several hours, waiting for the dawn to come.

i realise this was a bit short... apologies about that... i'll try not to leave you all hanging for so long this time ;) REVIEW!

next up: the fellowship is formed...