After an incredibly long delay (who knew becoming a proper adult in a post-uni COVID world would take away so much from my free time?) I have a lovely little chapter for y'all! It gets a little bit lemony but the real citrusy stuff won't happen til the next chapter! I hope everyone has been doing well, is staying safe and staying healthy. Let me know what you're up to! I just moved in with my partner of 3.5 years and start my full time job in my dream field in a couple weeks!

Enough about me though, review responses!

Lady Jensen: there will be plenty of Boromir in this chapter and the next!

kristin: i have def been looking into where to fit more religion/cultural aspects in! as for the delay, i do apologize. i didn't even realize how long it had been til i started working on it again over the past few weeks. my last full time job absolutely drained me and took away all desire to write and do anything except come home to eat and sleep. that def won't be the case with this new job!

wendy: a wise philosphical conversation between kristin and gandalf may be able to cover that! but it may also work way later on in the story for what i have planned.

carrie: ya know, i'd never considered witches before for how they'd get back but that is increidbly intriguing!

patty: Legolas and gandalf would be the perfect characters for a religious chat, i agree!

julie: i cannot believe you left this review around nye! I am soooo sorry for the delay and hope you stick around for more!

amy: local travel will probably happen!

My cheeks burn so hotly I am convinced they'll catch fire. I avoid Boromir's hot stare and focus on Lana and the throngs of people streaming into the barn.

"Kristin!" she squeals as she teeters over to me. In her four-inch bright pink strappy heels, I have to look up to meet her heavily made-up eyes. She takes a swig from the champagne bottle in her perfectly manicured hands and pushes it into my hands.

"Youuuu," she sings, "do not look like you pre-gamed at all!"

I force out a laugh. "I didn't. Lana? Who are all these people? I thought it was just going to be you, me, and the bridal party."

Lana giggles and adjusts her engagement ring. She holds her hand up and snaps a photo to post on social media. She begins typing out a caption, "Best bachelorette party ever!" she reads as she types. "Shoutout to Kristin_Sinclair for making it happen!" She presses the send button and looks up at me from her phone.

"Oh, don't look at me like that!" she whines.

I cross my arms and arch an eyebrow, "How am I supposed to look at you? You just blindsided me with a sea of people when I was expecting six!"

"You never would have been okay with this! That's why I just sent the trucks over already paid for! You need this party as much as I do! All work and no play makes Kristin a dull girl."

I open my mouth to protest but she holds a stiletto tipped fingertip up to my lips. I have half a mind to bite it, but clamp my mouth shut.

"Kristin, just have fun. Don't think about it." She takes the champagne from me and holds it up to my mouth. "Just do it." Her eyes flick toward Boromir as a sly smile forms on her painted lips. "Or him."

"Lana!"

She slaps my ass and sashays away toward a group of girls at the bar. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she gives me one last look and shouts, "You'll thank me later!"

Will I? I had just been about to kiss Boromir. Plus, he looked so hot in those jeans. Maybe I should try and step outside myself tonight; forget the farm, forget responsibilities…and consequences.

Boromir tucks his hands into his back pockets and leans back on his heels. "Aragorn hasn't returned, should we—should I man the bar?"

I glance over his shoulder at the pack of girls reaching over the bar for cups and handles of liquor.

"They'll eat you alive. Come on," I say and pat his chest. "Let's go fix them some drinks before they burn the place down."

With the party now well underway, Boromir and I have found a nice rhythm in getting drinks out to Lana's bridal army. Songs from the Top 100 blare over the speakers as the partygoers gyrate against one another and choruses of "YESSS BITCH!" from other dancing girls fill the air. Pink and green strobe lights (that I don't even remember seeing get installed) cut across the space creating an extra trippy experience for those drunk off their asses.

"A new champion approaches!" Lana announces over the microphone from near the mechanical bull. She hiccups and giggles before continuing. "I present Legs…Lego…Legolord!"

My jaw drops as Legolas hops over the pop-up fence with ease. I glance toward the barn door where Aragorn, Gimli, and up until right now, Legolas had been minding the crowd. Aragorn meets my gaze and shrugs his shoulders before turning his attention back to the elf.

I watch as Gimli scrambles atop a nearby box and dances on to his tippy toes to get a better view of Legolas. I'm sure he's hoping to watch the elf prince get bucked and thrown on to the floor like each of the mechanical bull's previous victims.

"How long do you think he'll last?" Boromir asks as he hands off a vodka cranberry to a short girl in a tight neon pink dress.

"If what Aragorn says about elf grace and agility and all that shit is true, he ain't budgin'." I pass two tequila shots and slices of lime toward two other girls decked out in various shades of pink. Jeez, Lana really made sure to enforce the color scheme.

The mechanical bull snorts and starts bucking and turning slowly. Everyone cheers as Legolas holds one arm up in the air. As it picks up speed, he raises the other and the crowd of girls goes wild as he only holds on to the bull with his legs. He smiles the biggest smile I'd seen on him since the fellowship's arrival. I find myself smiling in return. The bull bucks even harder and is now spinning wildly to the left and right but Legolas shows no signs of struggle. Instead, he does the impossible and stands atop the bull. Even my jaw is on the floor when he jumps and flips off the bull, landing gracefully on his feet on the surrounding fall mats.

Six girls swarm him, passing him drinks, and bombarding him with compliments about what they'd just witnessed.

"He's in for a fun night," Boromir laughs.

I laugh and push two tequila sunrises to two girls who run off to the dance floor as Poker Face by Lady Gaga ends and Cupid Shuffle by Cupid starts.

I pour myself a shot of peach vodka and chuckle as I toss it back. I purse my lips as the familiar burn slides down my throat.

"What?" Boromir questions.

I pour another two shots and hand him one. "This song," I toss back the vodka, and drop the mini red solo cup in the trash. "Lana and I loved this song in middle school. It's sort of like a line dance.

Boromir's brow arches. "A line dance?"

"Listen," I say. "The song literally tells you what to do."

"To the left, to the left, to the left, to the left…" I sing along with the song and shuffle my feet to the left. Boromir laughs and I do too. I point to the right as the song directs. "Come on!" I shout.

"To the right, to the right to the right, to the right…" and Boromir joins me in shuffling in that direction.

I alternate each hand, pointing in front of us as the song directs us to kick.

"It's that same pattern til the song ends," I explain. "It's incredibly basic which makes it easy to do when you're intoxicated."

"Are you?" he asks.

"Am I what?"

"Intoxicated."

I laugh and slap his arm. "Not nearly as much as I wish I was."

His eyes flicker with amusement. "Fancy a drinking game?"

My eyebrows jump up toward my hairline, and I eye him incredulously. "You play drinking games in Gondor?"

Boromir blows air through his teeth and clutches his chest. "Kristin, you insult me. We may not have your technologies, but every society has traditions when it comes to drinking." He winks, "And in Gondor, we pride ourselves on it."

I roll my eyes. "You sound like a frat boy."

His brow scrunches once more. "Well, if you're frat men are anything like Gondorian soldiers, there's something our societies have in common."

An image of frat boys in salmon-colored shorts and Vineyard Vines polos alongside men clad in full body armor comes to mind and I can't help but laugh at the mental image.

I push the image aside and wave my hand in front of him, "Go on then, what's the game?"

"Well," he says as he pulls out six Red Solo cups. He places three in front of me and three in front of himself. "We usually play with tankards of ale…"

I reach down beside the bar and grab the first handle my fingertips touch. "We have," I pause and read the label, "strawberry lemonade Svedka!" I place it on the counter with a loud thud.

He tilts his head and chuckles. "Yes. We have your fruity potato-based drink." I laugh. That's one way to put it.

He takes up the handle and flicks the top off. "We fill the glasses to the brim."

"Ah ah!" I lunge forward and wrap my hand around his holding the bottle and pull the neck up to stop the pour around a fourth of the glass full. "This is liquor, Boromir! It's way stronger than ale." And definitely stronger than my dwindling resolve…the liquor already in my system burns a growing passion in my lower belly and I become increasingly aware of my hand on his and the lack of space between us now that I've closed the gap.

I look up at him from beneath my eyelashes and find his eyes already on mine. His lips tug upward at the corners, and I find myself smiling in return. He holds my stare as he slowly slips his hand around my waist. His brow arches as if to seek my approval.

I bite my lip and allow him to pull me in close, the bare skin of my thighs poking through the holes in my jeans and rubbing against his denim covered hips.

"Do you still want to play the game?" he asks, his voice husky against my ear.

My heart beats quickly beneath my breasts, which suddenly ache to me touched. What has gotten into me? Alcohol. Alcohol has gotten into you, Kristin. I love the way I'm currently feeling; the way I'm still in control of my mind and body but buzzing enough that my muscles are loose, and I'm not concerned with trying to micromanage every aspect of my life. My skin is alive and bristling with electricity. Boromir's fingertips at my waist are enough to zap life into me.

I glance down at the counter and catch a glimpse of two blondes with obvious dye jobs sneaking away with five of the six cups of Svedka. I grab the last one and toss back the fruity liquor, savoring the burn as it slides down my throat with ease.

I lick my lips and turn the cup upside on the table. I lean in close to him and whisper, "Game over."

He chuckles wickedly in response. "Oh Kristin," he says lowly, "the game's only just beginning."

He drops his hand and cups my ass before quickly flicking his wrist to grasp my hand. He spins me around, pinning me against his hard chest and abs with his left arm so that his chin now sits against my neck and collarbone. "After you."

I whimper. I actually whimper in response to such a dominant gesture. With Liam, whenever he tried something like that, there was always an intimidation factor. Some aggression. With Boromir, however it felt different. There was no selfishness in the way he spoke to me or in the way he touched me. My lower belly suddenly aches with hunger. Not for food though, for physical touch. For his touch. When I start to feel a pulse between my thighs, I waste no time in spinning out of his arms and dragging him by the hand out of the barn and up toward the house.

Twenty or so partygoers fraternize outside the barn, talking, dancing, and playing corn hole. A few couples cheer for us and clap as we move swiftly down the path.

"Get it, man!" A guy with cropped curly blonde hair in a half buttoned Hawaiian shirt yells.

"He's hot!" the red head wrapped around him shouts.

I roll my eyes and Boromir laughs. "Jealous?" he questions.

I jerk him forward so that he falls in line with me and shove him, laughing as he stumbles. "In your dreams," I bite.

He regains his footing and eyes me dangerously. I frown momentarily wondering if I've actually offended him. His eyes brighten suddenly as his lips shift into a wide grin. Before I have time to ask just what's going on inside his mind, he charges me. In two steps he throws his arms around me and tosses me over his shoulder.

I'm immediately brought back to the night we met where I'd found myself in this exact predicament. Except, this time I'm not literally bleeding out and terrified that the only hope within a dozen miles are potential serial killers with a Renaissance fetish.

"Do you make a habit of this?" I ask. "Throwing women around?"

"That depends!" he replies. "Do you like being thrown around?"

I bury my face in his back and all but scream to release the sexual energy begging to be tended to. Composing myself, I raise my chin and respond as we finally reach the porch steps. "Get me inside and find out."

A little lemony tease before the full on lemon in the next chapter! If that's not your cup of tea I'll provide a chapter summary in the following chapter(s) which will be the rehearsal dinner and wedding! Then we may finally get on figuring out how to get these guys home.

Please stay safe and healthy! xx