Indigo575: Hello again! ;) Thank you for being the first reviewer! XD I am leaving this story largely up to my readers' requests, but will most likely come up with my own stuff, on top of that. If you think of anything, let me know! ;)
Me and Not You 1001: Rowena just thought what first came to her head, though I agree it was quite humourous! XD Your requested scene is being written, dear, and should be up soon. This alternate opening just wouldn't let me go! :)
GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!
~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER
Turns out, I was not breaking any rules. It was just that Boromir was a little nervous about having a woman in his boat for who knows how many days, all day.
That was about three days ago now. Since then, I'd learned that Boromir had a younger brother, Faramir, and that Legolas was an Elf (a very old and very wise people in Middle-Earth, blessed with immortality and enhanced wisdom). Not just any old Elf, either. No, he was the Prince of the Woodland Realm, whatever the Woodland Realm was.
Oh, and Frodo was adopted by Bilbo Baggins, the very main character of potentially my favorite fantasy book; Hobbit. However, Frodo didn't seem much for talking. He answered my questions out of sheer politeness, but nothing more. And his hand would stray every now and again to his shirt, clutching at it as if it were a lifeline. I flash back to the first time I mentioned it to him.
"Frodo, you're doing it again." He frowns.
"I'm doing what?" His hand stays where it is, grabbing the ring tighter than ever.
"Gripping your shirt. I see you do it a lot. Why is that?"
"...My business is my own, Rowena. I would have you remain out of it." He replies, getting a little testy and his face twists into an ugly look of distrust and...greed? Perhaps I'd read it wrong in the instant it was there before it morphed back into the pleasant face I was used to. "That is, ah, if-if you don't mind, milady." He mumbles, and I'd swear Boromir was glaring at Frodo when I turned back to my book.
Another interesting thing I learned was that a wizard, Gandalf, has just died in a place called Moria, wherever that was. Due to a Balrog (I had no clue what it was and clearly I wasn't going to find out), and that was right before they spent a month (they think) in Lothlorien with Galadriel and her husband, Celeborn. It was weird, but...I'd nearly cried when they told me. Like...I knew him, personally. Like I was more than a stranger hearing a tale of his death.
They told me I'd joined them their first night since leaving the Golden Wood, as Lothlorien was sometimes called. I'd nodded and blinked back my tears, praying no one saw them.
All this information was well and good, but I'm getting increasingly frustrated that no one seems to want to tell me just why we were canoeing down the Anduin or anything of any real significance. I knew they had some big, important mission, but no one seemed to want to discuss just what that mission was with me. This left me bored on more than one occasion and for longer than I cared to tell them. One benefit of this boredom was that I learned that I had a pair of auburn red leggings, a leather jerkin that might serve as a light armor, another shirt (this one a nice cornflower yellow) and my glock, of all things, complete with hip holster and ammo box in my satchel.
However, searching the satchel was only exciting once, so I'd taken to reading the book Aragorn none-too-subtly put with my satchel (miraculously not very damaged from my dip in the water, somehow) before we got in the boats. A lot. Turns out, it was a book on medicine. Evidently, he seemed to think I needed to learn medicine, but why was unclear. It seemed important to him that I receive the book. And read it. So far, it was actually more interesting than it first appeared. Mainly because it dealt primarily with which herbs and plants healed in some way or another.
It isn't until about an hour and a half before noon that the slightly awkward silence makes me decide to at least find out where Aragorn got the book.
"Hey, Aragorn?" I ask, voice a little softer than normal conversation levels, for some reason. The addressed man turns to look at me.
"Yes, Rowena?"
"Where'd you get this book? It's a really interesting read." He hesitates for a moment before answering.
"The Lady of Lothlorien instructed me to give it to 'a woman who would join the quest soon'. I can only assume she meant you, so to you I gave the book." I nod. It was a start, but the answer seemed both detailed and still somehow vague, as if there were still things I had yet to find out. So I decided to try and see what I could learn while Aragorn was in a talking mood.
"And who is this 'Lady of Lothlorien'?" Surprisingly, it was Gimli who spoke up first, eyes reverent and adoring.
"She is the fairest creature in Middle-Earth, by far. Galadriel makes even the most captivating sunrise seem insignificant in comparison." He says in awe-struck, almost loving tones. I smile.
"Sounds like someone is a little star-struck." I tease, chuckling. Gimli flushes and grunts in gruff disapproval.
"Mind yer tongue, lass. She be a married Elf-maid, and I respect that. You'd do well to do likewise." I hold my hands up, still smiling.
"Meant no offense, Gimli. DIdn't even know she was married. I'd like to meet this Galadriel, some day." I point out placatingly. Gimli's head nods.
"Indeed, lass. She'll take yer breath away, she will." Oh, yes, he was quite taken with this woman. Quite taken indeed. I decide against teasing the rather gruff Dwarf further and settle myself back down and read more of the book, trying to keep myself from getting bored. Things tended to get weird when I was bored.
"Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer…" I sang under my breath, my fingers tapping the page I wasn't really reading any more to the tune of the song. Too late, it seems. I was already bored. "You take one down, you pass it around. Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall!" It didn't occur to me until halfway through the verse that I was getting louder and that I had stopped reading altogether. By then, Merry and Pippin seemed to perk up and chime in, their singing voices putting mine to shame. This continued for two bottles- -er, verses- -before Boromir, while chuckling, decided to end our song.
"Perhaps we should head to shore and enjoy a luncheon together?" He suggested, looking to Aragorn for approval. I'd quickly picked up on the fact that Aragorn was the de-facto leader here and that everyone looked to him for guidance. Aragorn nods and we curve toward shore at a decent-looking spot for a bit of food.
"Wherever did yeh hear that song, lass?" Gimli asks, amused, as we haul the surprisingly light boats up to shore. "To be frank with you, it doesnae seem like yer type of song." I can't help a laugh.
"That's just cus we're still getting to know one another, Gimli. Don't you have songs like that here?" He shrugs.
"Of a similar subject, perhaps, but that tune seems more...simple than others I've heard." I shrug.
"It's just a song people in Scotland- -anywhere in my world, really- -use to pass the time." Boromir steps forward to pass me a spare waterskin to go with my boiled eggs and bread.
"Perhaps it'd be best to not sing so loud in future, though." He advises with a smile I fear may be at least partially forced. I tilt my head and smile.
"Why wouldn't we be able to sing loud?" I ask, trying to convey nothing but innocent curiosity and not let out my slight irritation at being left out of virtually anything of importance.
"It is merely that- -who knows who may be listening?" Boromir counters hesitantly. I nod, crossing my arms nonchalantly. At least he replied. Aragorn and Legolas apparently think it's funny to act like I hadn't said anything.
"And is there a reason you don't want anyone to know what we're doing or where we are?" I ask. My tone and/or expression must have showed my emotions, because Boromir flinches as if what I'd said struck him physically.
"I- -that is not for me to answer." He replied tentatively. I bristle and huff, nearly stomping my foot in frustration, but manage to reign that impulse in.
"Boromir, please! It's not like I'm gonna go shout it out to the world or anything!" I blurt out in rising anger and frustration. "I'm just so tired of not knowing anything about what is happening!" Before I know it, I'm five feet closer to Boromir and my fists are clenching at my sides. "If I am going to travel with you all for who knows how long, I think I ought to know where we're going and what we're doing. Right?!" I was aware that my voice was nigh on a roar, but it felt so good to finally ventilate the rising emotions I'd felt since I'd first been denied information. After I was through talking, I stood there, panting and almost regretting the harsh words. Almost. Aragorn came forward and sighed.
"I suppose you have a point, Rowena. But ours is a mission of deadly secrecy. None must know of it." I nod, glad to at least be making some kind of headway at last.
"That I can do, I assure you." I reply, trying not to seem so eager for information. Aragorn, unfortunately, seems to pick up on that eagerness and sighs again.
"We intend to brave the land of Mordor and cast an item of indescribable power back into the fires it came from to destroy it, preventing Lord Sauron, the very embodiment of evil, from returning to Middle-Earth." I swallow. "This is no simple quest we are on; Sauron's forces are massing and preparing for battle, and his spies are everywhere." Now I knew why they wanted this mission to remain secret. And why they hadn't told me about it.
After all, how convenient was it that they happened upon a woman in need of assistance in the Anduin in January, when any other sane person would have avoided swimming if at all possible? And how suspicious did my constant curiosity make me seem to these men, who wanted nothing more than to ensure they succeed in this mission? I nod.
"...Okay. Makes sense." Everyone around me shifts awkwardly, as Aragorn gives me an apologetic glance, as does Gimli and Boromir, the only other two in my line of sight. Legolas then comes striding into camp from wherever he was (scouting, wasn't it?), bee-lining straight for Aragorn, something unsettling in his body language. He whispers something urgently to Aragorn in what sounds like a foreign language. Aragorn replies in what I assume is that same language before heading toward the center or camp, packing things up.
"I'm afraid we must press on. The day is getting away from us and we have far to go to get to Mordor." Is the only thing he says. Boromir goes over to Aragorn, sensing the same as I had, evidently, but they hold a whispered conversation that I was- -again- -not a part of. Boromir flinches at something Aragorn said, cursing and grinding his teeth in frustration. I pretend to be helping gather the supplies and waterskins, coming conveniently ever closer to the conversing men.
"-ver leave us alone?!" Boromir was hissing in disgusted frustration.
"I fear not, til they have the Ring and deliver to Sauron." Aragorn replies lowly, face and tone matching Boromir's disgust. "We must be silent and use the river to propel us faster than the Uruk-Hai." Boromir nods. Within five minutes, we're back on the water.
=#=#=#=#=
"What's an Uruk-Hai?" I ask, unable to bear not-knowing. Boromir starts, looking shocked, but he recovers quickly before anyone can notice and ask about it.
"The foul servants of Sauron, horrid, dark mutations that think only of dark and fell deeds their master wishes them to perform." I nod grimly. It pleased me more than I care to admit that he wasn't about to berate me about my eavesdropping...in front of everyone, at least.
"I think I may have seen one dodge behind a tree just before Legolas came back into camp. At the time, I thought it was just an animal, but now…" Boromir grinds his teeth and paddles harder.
"Thank you for telling me, milady." Aragorn and Legolas seem to pick up on Boromir's tension and increased their speed to match his. Only the Hobbits are unaware of the danger, but can pick up on the unspoken forbiddance of speaking and the tension the humans felt.
=#=#=#=#=
This continued until nightfall, and as we turned silently to the shore again, the tension only rose. Finally, Pippin tugs my sleeve.
"Is there something wrong?" He asks, fear and worry clouding those innocent blue eyes. I manage a smile, my initial reluctance to tell him melting at the look in his eyes.
"We're...not sure yet, Pip. We're just cautious in case it is something." I reply. Pippin frowns.
"Is it that party of Uruk-Hai Haldir mentioned?" He asks. I look to Boromir, who sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, but nods. Pippin's face drains.
"I...I thought we'd lose them by taking the river!" He squeaks. I kneel down to his level, hands on either of his shoulder.
"Pippin, no matter what happens, if there are Uruk-Hai- -whatever they are-" I am quick to add when I remember that I wasn't supposed to know what an Uruk-Hai was, "-out there, I'll protect you as best I can. I promise." I assure him and Pippin takes a deep breath and manages a weak smile.
"Th-thanks, Rowena, but I think I can handle it." I give him a slightly sad smile. He has no idea what battle and war does to people. My uncle's war stories in the army were bad enough just hearing them. Living them was an entirely different matter.
"My promise still stands." I point out. He nods.
"I know." Boromir eyes me curiously.
"What weapon do you have?" He asks. "I see none on you." I smile.
"You'll see."
=#=#=#=#=
Unfortunately, those words came true at about noon the next day.
It was when we were getting lunch (as quietly as possible) when we noticed that both Boromir and Frodo were nowhere to be seen. I look around the immediate area and ask Merry if he's seen Boromir, not wanting to worry him.
"I think he went to get firewood." He replies. His eyes then widen. "Wait…" He gazes around the campsite. I shush him before he can get hysterical and panic.
"I don't know where Frodo is." I tell him. "But I think Boromir is with him, and we can find them. Get Pippin, and we'll start looking. Okay?" He nods.
To cut a long story short, not five minutes later, we have to dodge into the underbrush as what I assume are Orcs come thundering past us, but we'd found him and somehow, Merry and I knew what he was doing; he was taking the opportunity to continue his journey to Mordor. Alone.
And we couldn't do anything but let him go. Poor Pippin needed to be told after he ran forward to retrieve Frodo, but he reluctantly agreed. I take a breath, knowing I had no choice but to use my glock. I grab it and the holster and ready it.
And then I saw it. An Orc, and it was nasty, dark brown, and snarling. There were at least fifteen of them running toward us, growling and hissing. I cock the gun, drawing the hammer back.
"Run, Frodo." Merry orders. "Go!" He snaps as we turn to the approaching Orcs. "Hey! Over here!"
"This way!" Pippin added, the three of us jumping around and waving wildly before I took aim at the nearest Orc.
Bang! The shot rang out, leaving a deafening silence in it's wake.