PART ONE: ANACHRONISM
Chapter XXIX: The Fellowship And The Company
"Ana? Where have you taken me?" asked Boromir, his voice trembling ever so slightly. He turned in circles, taking in the swimming pool, the food stand, the people in swimsuits.
"Come one." I grabbed Boromir by the wrist and pulled him away from the pool.
Everyone was staring at us. Not that I blamed them. A man in full medieval armor, bearing a sword and shield—this was one situation that I didn't even bother trying to explain. I just wanted to get out of there as fast as I could.
Dragging Boromir behind me, I half-jogged half-sprinted along the sidewalk past the food hut, through the exit, and into the parking lot. When we were underneath the shade of a tree, I stop running. It had just occurred to me that while my car was in the parking lot, but I'd left the key in Nick's gym bag. Great.
Boromir seemed overwhelmed by the whole experience. He gawked, open-mouthed, at everything. Except the people. He still found the lack of clothing to be scandalous.
As we stood under the tree, he turned to me and asked, "Where have you taken me? Stop running, Ana, and tell me."
I hesitated. "We're in my world."
My heart was racing and my head was spinning as I tried to register what had just happened. It made sense, of course, that if I could Skip Nick and Bonnie to Middle Earth, then I could Skip people from Middle Earth to Ohio. But this had never happened before. And now I was standing in a parking lot with a man dressed in full armor. People were staring. I needed to leave. But my car was locked. And my cellphone was in the car. Maybe I could get Boromir to break the window with his sword… But, damn it, I couldn't afford to have a frigging window fixed.
I held my head in my hands and muttered, "Calm down. Breathe. It's not that bad. Don't panic. That's the most important thing. Do. Not. Panic." I lifted my head and looked at Boromir. He seemed just as panicked as I was. I took a deep breath. Calm. "I need a cell phone. Cell phone… Anybody got a cell phone?"
A young man and his girlfriend were crossing the parking lot; the guy was texting someone on his smart phone. I sprinted over to him, avoiding a car, and came to a screeching halt right in front of the couple.
"Can I borrow your phone?" I cried. "It's an emergency—I locked my purse in the car, and I need to call my friend."
"Er." After a moment's hesitation, the guy handed me the phone.
I practically stabbed the screen as I typed in Nick's number. Another thing I had learned from years of Skipping was to memorize phone numbers. Once, when I was eleven, I'd lost my cellphone running away from wolves. When I'd Skipped back to the outlet mall, I'd had no number memorized, no way of contacting my parents, and had been forced to walk home. With blisters on my feet, I'd sworn that I would memorize every phone number I could—even the cat lady who lived down the street's—so that I'd always have someone to call.
Nick's ringtone sounded as I held the smart phone to my ear. Please pick up. Please pick up. Please pick up.
"Hello?" asked a confused voice.
"Nick! Help me! I'm outside the pool and I don't have my purse and I can't get into my car and Boromir is here. Yeah, Boromir is here. I don't know what to do! People keep staring and I'm like, 'This is totally normal.' But it's totally not normal. And I don't know what to do, but he's not dead and he's here. He's here! He has no idea what's going on. I don't even know what's going on! Nick, you have to help me. Where's my purse? Where's my keys? I can't even get into my car! This is terrible!"
There was a pause. "Who is this?"
"Nick!"
"Okay, okay, sorry. That was too good to resist. But—what?"
I took a deep breath, aware that the couple was watching me curiously. "I brought Boromir back with me."
"The guy who dies?"
"But he's not dead. I brought him back with me before he could die."
"Ana." Nick groaned. "Why did you do that?"
"It wasn't on purpose!"
"Sure it wasn't. Okay. I'm coming. I have your purse and your keys, by the way. I brought all your stuff home when you disappeared."
"Good boy." I hung up and made a beeline back across the parking lot towards the tree under which Boromir—the real, living Boromir in full Middle Earth armor—waited. God, I was in so much trouble.
"Wait!"
"Huh?" I turned around and saw that the very, very confused couple was staring at me. I glanced down at the phone in my hand. "Oops. Thanks."
The guy took his smart phone and gave me one of those she's-a-freak looks before he and his girlfriend headed for the pool. I watched them for a second before turning away. Whatever. No my problem right now. My problem was Boromir. What was I going to do with the steward-prince of Gondor?
"Why do the females here where so little clothing?" asked Boromir, frowning.
"This is a special occasion," I said. "We're at the swimming pool. People in this world don't wear a lot of clothes when they swim."
Noticing the tone of my voice, Boromir frowned. "You are not happy."
"Well, yes, you're not supposed to be here. The Skip came at a really, really bad time…" I trailed off. "Or maybe it was supposed to happen at that time." I turned to Boromir, a sudden feverish excitement in my eyes.
"I do not like that look," said Boromir suspiciously.
"Maybe the Skip was meant to happen right then," I said. "It had to happen so you could come to my world and not die. Maybe no matter how much I warned you, you would end up dying anyways, so the Skip brought you here with me so you won't die in Middle Earth!"
Boromir stared. "I was going to die?"
I nodded. "By orcs. I don't know exactly when, but it was some time after Frodo left the Fellowship."
"Frodo leaves the Fellowship?"
"It's necessary. And I know Frodo and Sam cross the river and continue towards Mordor without the rest of the Fellowship."
Boromir frowned. "Does he leave because I tried to take the Ring from him?"
I froze mid-sentence and then dropped my gaze to the paved ground below. It'd never really occurred to me the reason why Frodo had chosen to leave the Fellowship. I knew that he'd wanted to protect the rest of the Fellowship from the same fate as Gandalf, but it never occurred to me that he was protecting them from themselves too.
"Maybe," I said. "But I think Frodo planned to leave before that. It doesn't matter. I'm sure he forgives you. Frodo's a forgiving person. Great guy, couldn't have picked anyone better to carry the Ring. But the important thing is—you're not going to die. Because you're here with me."
Boromir didn't say anything.
A horn honked and I leapt about a foot in the air.
Nick leaned out the window of his rust-bucket car, staring at Boromir and me with his mouth half open. "You weren't lying. You really did bring someone from Middle Earth here."
"Yeah," I said, approaching the car. "Kind of crazy, isn't it?"
"Get in," said Nick, unlocking the car doors. "People are staring. We can come back for your car later. Right now we need to get Mr. Middle Earth out of here."
"If anyone asks," I said, "the Renaissance festival is in town."
I opened the back door of the car for Boromir to get in, but he could only stare at the vehicle in horror. "What kind of sorcery is this?"
"Right," I muttered. "You haven't seen cars before. Well, say hello to Gertrude, Nick's grandma car. She moves at about forty miles per hour on the interstate and brings all other drivers at the point of insanity. While I could tell you that Gertrude is perfectly safe to ride in, that would be a lie. Especially with Nick behind the wheel. Just think of this as another crazy adventure. You've already ran away from wargs, tried to cross a frigging violent mountain, been chased by a balrog, and almost fallen out of a tree. You can handle Gertrude."
"She has personality," said Nick, rolling his eyes at me.
Boromir did get into the car in the end, though very reluctantly. He looked extremely awkward as he settled into the backseat and, at my instruction, fastened his seatbelt (safety first!). The moment Nick started to drive, Boromir clutched the sides of the seat, his face paling with fear.
"Who created such witchcraft?"
"I don't know who invented the first car," said Nick. "But this isn't witchcraft, it's a Toyota."
Boromir's eyes narrowed. "May Toyota be cursed into the fires of Mountain Doom along with that wretched Ring."
"Speed bump," said Nick cheerfully.
Both Boromir and I cried out and clung to the sides of the car as Nick raced over the speed bump. I swear, the car flew two feet into the air.
You can imagine how the rest of our ride went, particularly when Nick reached a stop light (he likes to refer to them as "stoptional") and stepped on the accelerator to make it through before anyone else.
"Whew," said Nick. "Made it."
"This is why you don't drive me places!" I shrieked.
"You're just being a baby," said Nick. "You've faced far more terrifying things than my driving."
"Speed limits are there for a reason, Nick!" I wailed. "You're a maniac! I hope they take away you license and you'll have to walk everywhere or take the bus."
"Oh God forbid," said Nick. "Not the bus." The car screeched to a halt. "We're here anyways."
I threw open the door and stumbled out onto the sidewalk. "Thank God, I thought I would never survive that."
After struggling to open the car door, Boromir staggered out after me. "From now on, I will walk in this world."
"Come on," said Nick, locking the car behind him as he joined us on the sidewalk. "It wasn't that bad."
Boromir and I glared at him.
Suddenly, Boromir straightened. As the fear of death wore off, he started to register the city around him. His eyes widened as he took in the cars, roads, pedestrians, billboards, and skyscrapers. He right hand rested on the handle of his sword, and he looked as though he might start taking heads if anyone startled him.
"Ana?" he whispered hoarsely. "What is this witchcraft?"
"It's called technology," I said. "Come on."
I pulled him into my apartment building before he could draw more attention to himself. At first, he seemed hesitant to go in, but he followed, trusting me not to lead him to his doom. We headed up the five flights of stairs with Nick close behind. The stairs seemed to comfort Boromir. He knew what stairs were. He could handle them. By the time we reached the third flight of stairs, he was even making jokes about how slowly I walked.
I reached the sixth floor landing, panting and out of breath—only to run into Jack. We actually bumped shoulders and then leapt back, shocked at the sight of one another. I stepped to the side, trying to hide Boromir from Jack. Which was rather silly now that I think about it, since Boromir was at least a foot taller than me and much broader.
"Hi." I raised one hand in greeting. "Long time no see. I've been good. How about you? I mean, my life is going pretty good. I have a job. Or had a job. I don't know. I might have been fired already. I should call my work. Wow. Look at the time. It's been nice chatting with you."
I quickly stepped past Jack and darted to my apartment door. I pulled the key out of my purse (thank you, Nick) and shoved it into the lock. Okay, I missed the keyhole once—but only once. Then, I wrenched the key around and kicked the door open.
"Okay," I said, turning to Nick and Boromir. "Who wants coffee?"
Nick, true to his best friend status, was glowering at Jack. Nick even had the nerve to raise two fingers to his eyes and then point the two fingers at Jack. "I'm watching you."
"The coffee isn't going to wait," I said, ushering Nick into the apartment.
Boromir frowned at Jack, but stepped into the apartment without a word. As I closed the door behind him, Boromir turned to me and asked, "Who was that?"
"Neighbor," I said.
"An asshole who refused to talk to Ana after she accidentally Skipped during their first date," said Nick. "He wouldn't let her explain anything."
"It's fine," I said. "It would never have worked out anyways. He drank cold coffee in the winter. That's just wrong."
"Oh." Boromir turned to Nick. "Is this one of the situations where she pretends that something or someone is unimportant to her when actually is has a huge and lasting impact on her life?"
Nick nodded. "Unfortunately."
Boromir turned back to me. "Do you wish for me to—what was the phrase?—kick his ass for you?"
I shook my head, but a smile was playing at my lips. "I just want a hot cup of coffee. Any takers?"
"Me," said Nick.
"What is coffee?" asked Boromir.
"A gift from the gods," I said. "I'll make you a cup. Are you a sugar or milk kind of guy or do you like your coffee black like your soul?"
"You are speaking strangely again." Boromir glanced at Nick "Can you translate for me?"
Nick snorted. "You understand her just as well as I do."
"Is she a strange and foreign creature in your world as well?"
"She is strange and foreign creature in every world," said Nick.
"I hate you both," I said, flicking on the switch for the hot water kettle. "You're both getting black coffee for those comments."
"So," said Nick, settling down on the surprisingly clean sofa, "how did this happen?"
"How did what happen?" I poured coffee grounds into the French press.
"Boromir." Nick patted the cushion next to him, and Boromir joined Nick on the couch. "How'd he come here?"
"I slapped him. And right when I slapped him, I Skipped."
"That's bad timing," said Nick.
"I think the Skip had perfect timing." I spoke to Nick and Boromir over the kitchen counter. "This way Boromir won't die."
Boromir frowned. "How are you planning on preventing my death? You cannot keep me in this world."
"Sure we can," said Nick. "We just have to keep Ana away from you whenever she Skips."
"I just want you to live," I said as the kettle clicked off.
"I do not wish to stay in this world."
"It's not that bad," I said. "All you've experienced so far is the pool and Nick's dreadful driving. But really, this place is great—we have coffee."
"I still do not know what this coffee is."
"Almost ready." I poured the hot water into the French press and let it sit.
"You could Skip back to your world after the time you're supposed to die," said Nick. "Just to be sure it doesn't happen."
"But what if he dies in some event after that?" I asked.
"You cannot prevent my death forever," said Boromir. "I will die of sickness or old age."
"And at that time, I'll let you die. You will have had a long and filling life. But until then—you must live."
Boromir smiled. "You like me to that degree?"
I rolled my eyes at Boromir. "I adore you."
"I expect you to go to this extent to save my life if anything happens to me," said Nick. "I want you to know that you're setting very high standards for yourself."
When the coffee grounds had seeped enough, I poured three cups of coffee, adding milk and sugar to two of the mugs (for Boromir and Nick) and leaving the third one black for me.
"I adore you as well," said Boromir, "but you must still return me to Middle Earth. I made a promise to the Fellowship to travel with them as far as I may and a promise to Aragorn to look upon the White City with him. Whether or not I fulfill those promises is not for you to decide."
"But—"
"You cannot change that."
"But—"
"No buts," said Nick. "You're interrupting his inspirational speech."
"I don't get it." I picked up two of the coffee mugs and headed to the living room. "All I know is that you will not die. I won't let it happen. You understand? Don't do anything stupid. If you return to Middle Earth and are on the verge of death, I'll slap you all the way back here and you won't like that." I passed Nick his coffee mug and turned to stare at Boromir. I refused to give him the coffee until he answered me. "Do you understand?"
"Yes," said Boromir.
"Good." I handed him the coffee mug.
Skip.
"God damn it!" I cried. "Does this have to happen every single time I try to have a serious conversation?"
"Er—Ana?"
"What?" I spun around to glare at Boromir. And then froze.
I was standing in the middle of a hall made almost entirely of wood. The high walls were supported by roughly carved wooden pillars, curling designing depicting bears, rabbits, foxes, and other forest animals. There was an earthy smell to the hall, like a mixture or dirt and straw. In the middle of the hall was a massive wooden table. The table was taller than me, and the benches placed on either side of the table came to my shoulders. Definitely not my apartment.
There were people sitting around the table—all staring at Boromir and me in shock. Standing nearest to us was a man I didn't recognize. He was even taller than Boromir with a hulking figure, a grisly black beard, thick eyebrows, and a flat, broad face. Sitting on the bench to his left was a wizard dressed entirely in gray. Next to this wizard, who I knew unfortunately all too well, there was a hobbit—a hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins. Then, filling the seats at the massive table, their legs swinging with a good gap between their feet and the floor, were thirteen dwarves—each one as shocked as the other beside him. No. Actually, I lied. They were not all surprised. There was one dwarf who sat at the head of the table, eating his soup calmly and casually as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
Thorin looked up from his soup. "I was wondering when you were going to appear again, Ana."
In any other circumstance, I would have made some quip in response, perhaps mention Thorin's majesty giving him the ability of foresight. However, right then, all I could do was gawp at the dwarves and then, slowly, realize that Boromir was standing right beside me. Boromir. With the Company.
I spun around and grabbed Boromir by the arm. "We're leaving! Right now. Skip us away! Skip us away! Skip us away!"
"We are not Skipping," said Boromir, pointing out the obvious.
"Skip! Why aren't we Skipping?"
"What are these people doing in my house?" A deep voice rolled through the room. Fear pricked my spine, and I spun around to see the black-bearded man staring at me. His dark, wild eyes were filled with an intense hatred; anger was swelling from him, and for a second, I thought he would explode into a wild beast.
But Gandalf stepped forward and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Calm yourself, Beorn. She is a friend of the Company."
"More a pet that a friend," said Thorin.
"A friend?" asked Beorn. He turned to smile at Boromir and me. "Well, why did you not say so? Come! Have a seat! Have food!"
I stared at him. One second ago, he was ready to rip my head off and now he was offering me food. That wasn't odd in the slightest. Not at all.
"Thanks, but no thanks." I tried to steer Boromir in the direction of the exit.
"Where are we?" asked Boromir.
"You are in the House of Beorn," said Gandalf. He shot a glare in my direction. "We have sought refuge in his house from the party of orcs that hunt us."
"Beorn is a shape-shifter," added Ori cheerfully.
"That's nice." I glanced up at Beorn. "I'm sure you're very nice, but we need to leave now."
Thorin stared at me for a moment as I failed to push Boromir out the door of Beorn's house and far, far away from the dwarves. Thorin frowned. "What are you attempting to do, Ana?"
"No!" I cried. "Shush. No talking. None of you!" I pointed roughly at all the other dwarves. "Thorin, you can't talk. The same goes for you, Boromir, not a word. We're not Skipping out of here, but we can walk out of here on our own two feet. Got it? Go. No talking."
Boromir pulled away from me and turned to stare at the table of dwarves. His eyes focused on one proud dwarf in particular. A crooked smile crossed Boromir's face and he said, "So this is Thorin."
Thorin's eyes narrowed, his eyebrows knitting together. He stared at Boromir, trying to decide if he knew the man.
"Boromir!" I grabbed him by the arm (I could not risk Skipping without him). "No talking. We're leaving. Now."
"What does my name mean to you?" asked Thorin.
Boromir grinned broadly and then turned to look at me. I tugged on his arm, trying to move him towards the exit, but my wimpy muscles were no match for Boromir's solid stance.
"Nice to meet you, Thorin," said Boromir.
"Nope. Not him." I tried pushing Boromir at the door and failed miserably. "Just a random dwarf."
"You called him Thorin earlier," said Boromir.
"I mistook him. You know dwarves, they all look the same. Short with long beards. Except of Kíli. He can't grow a beard for some reason."
"It will grow soon," cried Kíli from his spot at the table.
I ignored him. "But Thorin isn't here. Just his look alike. His look alike Thor…an. Thoran. They look and sound really similar and sometimes they pretend to be the same person, but they're actually really different. Thoran is more of a party animal and Thorin is just pure majesticness."
Boromir glanced over his shoulder at Thorin. "He doesn't look that majestic."
I gasped and let go of Boromir's arm. "What did you just say? Did you just call Thorin unmajestic? This is Thorin we're talking about! He is the definition of majestic! If you go look up majestic in the dictionary—you won't find an explanation, you'll just find Thorin's picture. Don't give me this bullshit about Thorin not being majestic. You're just jealous of his majesticness and your lack of majesty in comparison to him. It's okay to be jealous, we are all overwhelmed by Thorin's majesty. But to utter such blasphemy—we are no longer friends!"
"Ah," said Boromir. "So you admit that he is Thorin?"
I blinked. "What? No! That's Thoran. Thoran. There's an a in there!"
Boromir turned back to Thorin. "So you are, indeed, the dwarf king I have heard so much about."
"No talking!" I cried, grabbing hold of Boromir's arm again. "I forbid it! You will bring about the end of the world! The apocalypse!"
"What is an apocalypse?" asked Ori.
"I do not think it is good," said Nori. "Best keep quiet."
Ori immediately stopped talking. Apparently I had managed to frightening the sweetest dwarf into silence.
Thorin, however, would not be silenced. He wasn't looking directly at me, but I knew he was contemplating severing my head from my body. In a low voice, he asked Boromir, "What have you heard about me?"
"Only what Ana has told me,' said Boromir. "Mostly when she was drunk."
Thorin turned to me.
"This isn't my fault!" I wailed. "Don't look at me like that!" I glanced at Boromir. "And his name is Thoran!"
Boromir tried to muffle his laughter.
"I am confused as to what is occurring here," said Beorn.
"Unnatural things," said Bofur.
"No talking!" I cried.
"Why can we not talk?" asked Bilbo.
I took a deep breath and said, as quickly as I could in the hopes that no one could understand me, "Boromir is from your world but he's from the future of your world and he's heard the future-Bilbo's stories about what happens to Thorin and Company and Boromir might let something slip and he's not from this time—he hasn't even been born yet and this is going to have disastrous consequences and I don't know what will happen so don't say anything and Boromir and I need to leave now, understand, Boromir?"
Boromir stared at me. "What?"
Skip.
Boromir and I were sitting on the couch in my living room. Nick sat on the other side of the couch, sipping a cup of coffee and watching some TV show. He looked up and smiled at our arrival, completely calm.
"You could have been a little concerned!" I cried.
"You don't usually get this worked up," said Nick.
"We went to the wrong time period. I brought a member of the Fellowship to meet the Company. We could have messed things up and brought about the apocalypse! The fucking apocalypse!"
"I found it to be quite amusing," said Boromir. He frowned at the TV. "What is this contraption?"
"A box that shows stories through pictures," said Nick. "I'm watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer."
"What is it about?" Boromir took a sip of his coffee, which had somehow survived the Skip to Middle Earth and back. "Ana, this drink does not taste good at all." He settled on the couch next to Nick. "Is she trying to kill that vampire or are they dancing? Her fighting seems very inefficient."
"She's a bit of a showoff," said Nick.
I stood in my living room, gawping at the two men on my couch. For a moment, I debating yelling at them or maybe dumping a pot of hot coffee on their heads. Then, I rolled my eyes and collapsed in the arm chair. Whatever. At least Boromir was alive.
