AN: It's been a hard few weeks for everybody, hasn't it? I hope that a new chapter helps make somebody's day better and if it does, let me know! Please forgive the many mistakes that made it past my little pre-posting comb-through; things are nuts over here. And they will be for a while longer, I fear. Please remember to be kind to yourself and others.

Chapter 22: Many Partings

A ring of broken stone and nine sets of black robes. A scream. Sudden, efficient movement. Such cold as I've never felt. An inhuman screech. A glimpse of an orange eye. Pain.

Waking, my head was still one large ache and I was still dizzy when I moved, but it was better than before; as soon as I realized I wasn't about to throw up the second I stood, I pulled my boots on and hurried away. The finale had to be going on by now and I wasn't about to miss that for anything.

The halls were empty so I was able to get outside without interference, watching the crowd mill about waiting. Squinting against the daylight, I stumbled down the stairs and had to be caught at the bottom by Madhav's new BFF. "Sorry, mate," I muttered.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he set me back on my feet.

"Better. Is there anywhere I can sit to watch?" I asked hopefully.

He let out a shrill whistle up at the hall, then gave me an apologetic look when I winced. In their own language he spoke with a serving man, who rushed back into the hall. "He is getting you a stool," he promised.

It was better than I expected, so I tried to smile at him. The sun made his pale blonde hair glint in a way that hurt my eyes so I diverted them down to his mouth.

While we waited he introduced himself as Aelfwulf and politely asked how I found their hospitality at Edoras, which I couldn't gush about enough. "Everyone has been so kind here," I answered, somewhat in awe of just how nice, "I appreciate it so much."

The other man returned with the stool, which Aelfwulf took to the edge of the dais near where King Theoden sat. "Can I sit by you?" I asked the monarch, suddenly aware of how many eyes were in the crowd.

Kindly he gestured to the space on his left. "How is your head?" he asked.

"Better. How was the last match?" I asked in return.

The proud smile on King Theoden's face said everything. "Lord Boromir was most impressive. I can see his quality clearly," he said diplomatically, "However, Theodred won and is the finalist."

I chose not to mention that I'd make a good amount of money off of my husband losing. "That must have been quite the match. I'm sad I missed it," I replied.

"It was," King Theoden agreed with a smile I imagined was rare outside of his son's wedding.

Theodred caught my eye as he entered the ring, looking none the worse for wear. His long golden hair was tangled and his grin back at Boromir was assured.

When I caught my husband's eye I winked, despite my dream crashing through my head again.

He gave me a little smile and nod.

Movement on the other side of the ring caught my attention and my mouth dropped open a little at the gorgeous, wild sight that met me.

For the occasion Anahera had painted her chin with dark markings, swirls and lines unfamiliar to me, and stopped short of where the competitors were supposed to meet in the middle. Then in the sudden hush she gave a slow, rhythmic chant in her home language while she performed, for lack of a better phrase, a war dance. (Damn all this time in Middle Earth, I knew the real word at one point.) At the end where I remembered a tongue being stuck out, she instead made a gesture that said, "Come at me, bro."

I was pretty sure I saw Stevie swoon.

Bewildered, Theodred glanced at his father, then back at Anahera.

Her show done, she shook his hand with a grin. They then faced King Theoden and bowed deeply.

"Get ready," he told them.

They then bowed less deeply to each other and got into the starting position about six feet apart.

"Three. Two. One. Begin," King Theoden counted down.

If Theodred could win against Boromir, Anahera didn't have much of a chance. But Theodred was used to fighting on horseback, and if on foot with his back to his comrades.

Anahera took her long shot and few advantages, and ran with them. She made him spin like a top trying to keep her at his front with her dodging and weaving around the ring. While she dizzied him, he wore her down with heavy blows.

I could see the moment she decided to end it: she raced to get in close, still used to being trained to fight in the confines of a submarine, and sent a flurry of strikes at Theodred that I would've had a hard time blocking. But he held his ground and didn't let her get under his guard, seeing what she was trying to do.

And then she gambled everything on one attack that Theodred would never see coming. Barely within range, she seemed to dive at first but then vaulted up feet first, legs apart, leaving her shield on the ground to lighten the load as she aimed her flying body at her opponent.

For the split second that I could see his face he had no idea what to do, sword still in motion from his last swing and unable to save him.

The crowd gasped when Anahera landed on his shoulders, hooked her legs under his arms- and then had to windmill when Theodred lost his balance. It was a mystery who dropped their weapon first as they fell in a heap to the hard ground, Anahera yelping loudly as her legs hit hard packed earth. Theodred's voice was unfortunately muffled in her crotch.

The locals all looked appalled and even Gran's eyebrows were high up on her forehead while the competitors tried to disentangle themselves. I was laughing myself to tears at the ridiculous sight. From the sound of it, so was almost everyone else I knew. The words "Black Widow fail," reached me and I nearly fell off my stool.

My head pounded harder than ever, but I didn't care. It was just too funny to watch Anahera and Theodred try to get off of each other; her legs were trapped by his body while his upper body was trapped by her practically sitting on his face. Only when she laid down, his head barely squeezing through the gap between her thighs, was there any kind of progress.

"Did you see who dropped their weapon first?" King Theoden asked, frowning at the scene.

Slowly I had calmed and there were only a few giggles as I answered, "No, sorry."

The competitors had managed to get to their feet and shook hands, Anahera grinning sheepishly at her flushed opponent. "I dropped my sword first," she called up the dais, "The second I was off balance I dropped it."

Whether that was true or she was trying to save Theodred's face, it was accepted. Theodred was declared the winner of the tournament.

While everyone was busy congratulating the groom on his very strange win, I picked up my stool and retreated back into the Golden Hall. It was getting a bit loud for my comfort and I didn't want to be a spoilsport.

Back in my room I undid my braids from earlier and ran my fingers through the curls to hopefully untangle them somewhat. A knot caught and I winced from the sudden pull.

My earlier dream came to mind while I had a moment to myself. The burning on the surface of my brain intensified when I thought about the cold, the eye. Boromir's explanation of Mordor must've freaked me out more than I thought. There's no fucking way that was anything but a concussion induced nightmare and that's fucking final, I decided while I finished my comb-through.

The door opened and I smiled at a freshly cleaned Boromir. "Hello, stranger," I teased.

"Will you attend the feast?" he asked, moving across the room to lay his hands on my shoulders.

The warmth felt nice and I leaned back into him. "How loud is it?" I replied.

He began kneading the back of my neck with his thumbs and I sighed with pleasure. "Not so loud as last night. The minstrel is already asking your family for songs," he assured.

A mental image assaulted me of Brise letting loose one of her infamous renditions of Rap God and I giggled.

"They said that you became somewhat famous in your home for singing," Boromir prompted.

I groaned and gently slapped my forehead. "My mates and I used to record us singing and dancing when we weren't on missions. People apparently liked it," I explained with a sardonic smile.

"Why did you stop?" Boromir asked encouragingly, "A musical voice should not be denied." He started rubbing between my shoulders once my neck was relaxed enough for his tastes and I damn near melted.

"When we made a video after this," I gestured to my face, "nearly every comment we got were about how ugly I was or that I should leave. My mates didn't want me to have to deal with that, or to sing without me, so we stopped." I shrugged and began braiding my hair again.

Boromir let out a displeased huff. "I would like to hear you sing, if you feel well enough," he said while he finished the bit of a massage, unable to get further down while my clothes were on.

Oh lord, what would I even sing? Cardi B would go over like a lead zeppelin. Pop music is too reliant on background noise and backup singers. "Maybe. I doubt anything out of my mouth will hold a candle to Andy though," I said wistfully. Her voice was made for jazz, rich and smooth and soulful.

"She does have a lovely voice," Boromir agreed, "When I left, she was preparing."

"How's Theodred doing after his… unorthodox win?" I asked, smirking at the memory. If only I could've recorded that for posterity!

When I looked over my shoulder, he was frowning slightly. "He is… confused, embarrassed, and amused at once. Where did she learn such a thing?" he questioned, scandalized.

"She was a champion gymnast when she was younger," I answered, mind going back to long winter discussions, "She kept it up as best she could, but there's only so much space on a submarine and they could be at sea for months at a time." Slowly, to not irritate the lessening pounding in my head, I shook my head at her insanity; that's the only thing that could possibly cause anyone to become a submariner in my opinion.

"Gymnast?" Boromir asked.

Of all the things to not have culturally; Anahera would love to change that. "They do gymnastics, which is sort of… a test of agility and balance," I explained awkwardly, "They do flips, somersaults, vaults, walk on high beams, all kinds of stuff I'd be scared to even try. And they do it for points in front of judges."

"How interesting. There are traveling showmen in Middle Earth who do flips and walk on their hands and such, but nothing quite like that," Boromir mused.

"I think gymnastics started that way," I said, but then shrugged it off because trying to remember hurt.

There was a quiet set of precise knocks on the door. I knew them, so I simply called, "Come in."

Anahera's freshly washed face peered in. "Is this a good time?" she asked, eyeing where Boromir's hands lingered on my shoulders.

"No, it's fine. What's up?" I turned fully on my stool to face where she stepped into the room.

Once the door was closed, she gave me a tight smile. "How's your head?" she asked as she crept closer.

"Better than it was. Mackey said it's just a concussion and I think she's right," I answered, trying to ease a little of the guilt.

"Sorry about hurting you," Anahera blurted out, "I didn't realize I hit you so hard. Is there anything I can do to help, since I put you out of action and all?"

With a pat to Boromir's hand, I rose off the stool to meet her halfway across the room. "Can I have a hug?" I asked and opened my arms as best I could.

This time I wasn't squeezed half to death, but at least she didn't treat me like I was made of porcelain. "Really though, is there anything I can do?" Anahera asked.

"If I think of anything, I'll let you know," I promised, "I really didn't blame you though. If I were in your shoes I probably would've done the same thing."

With another glance at Boromir, this time with a smirk at me afterward, she left quietly.

For being a man, he was rather good at helping me into my fancy dress. With my near frozen left arm he was gentle while we manipulated the fabric around it and the laces in back were no issue. I tried not to wonder how many women he's undressed to know his way around our complicated clothing so well. And how many more there would be until I could join him in Minas Tirith.

"If I wrote a letter to your father, asking for an audience in order to apologize, do you think it would do any good?" I asked, partially to distract myself from such stomach churning thoughts.

For a moment Boromir stopped in his tightening of my laces. "Perhaps," he allowed and continued his chore. "You really mean to apologize?" He seemed cautious and a bit doubtful, which I hated to claim responsibility for.

Reluctantly I raised the shoulder that didn't hurt. "I could've done that meeting better. What I thought at him was very rude," I allowed, "And if this is going to work, I need a cordial relationship with your dad."

Something like wonder lit up Boromir's eyes.

I ruthlessly pushed down the urge to kiss that look off his face.

"You mean that you want this? A marriage to someone you barely know, half the world away from your home?" Boromir prompted softly.

How strange was it to be the one to allay his fears, instead of the other way? "Like Theodred said, things like this don't happen by accident," I said, "And if not you, then who? I can't think of anyone I'd like any better. I want to at least try."

He took my hands in his larger ones and brought them up to kiss the knuckles on each.

My heart pounded hard enough that I felt it echo in my brain.

"I have no experience with relationships, am constantly on the battlefield, and have every intention of fighting Mordor until I can no longer swing a sword. I can be impatient, impetuous, and arrogant. My brother calls me spoiled and I rarely take no for an answer. Are you willing to put up with that?" Boromir questioned, the most honest thing I've ever heard.

"Only if you can accept me telling you no," I told him truthfully, "Can you deal with me asking questions about everything, being friends with men, and arguing with the healers? I'm not going to accept that I can't do things because I'm a woman, or that I have to do them because of that. And if you want or need me to fight right next to you, all you need to do is say so."

As no denial came from either of us, our smiles widened. I squeezed his hands. "Let's try this," I barely dared breathe, "For real."

"Yes," Boromir murmured.

Perhaps it was rude to skip the last night of celebrations, but I guessed that everyone important would understand. I could always blame my concussion. This was our last night together for who knew how long and we were going to use it.

Sometimes we were busy and others we whispered in the dark. There were kisses and funny stories and sad stories, and moans and groans and giggles; a few times we fell asleep only for one to wake the other with wandering hands or lips. For how well he took care of my frozen shoulder, he could have been a masseuse. I could only hope I had managed to keep my magic hands. We only fell fully asleep not long before dawn.

At breakfast my family teased us, but seeing Boromir in full travel kit made them pause.

"Going somewhere?" Electra asked, clearly unimpressed by his early departure.

"Are we already leaving?" Brise added anxiously from where she had been chatting with Papa.

Boromir smiled tightly at them. "I must leave today, unfortunately," he answered as he loaded his plate, "I am needed badly on the front."

My stomach twisted as Brise started fussing about packing, then King Theoden offered her an escort to the border if she wanted to stay later. For the first time since high school I envied her. She could go to Minas Tirith, where I wanted to go more than anything.

Damn my stupid temper. York always said it would get me in trouble, and here I was.

That morning I'd written my letter but there was no time for a second draft to dry; to make it to Minas Tirith in time, Boromir would have to leave directly after breakfast. My thumb still throbbed a little from sealing it with my print in hot wax. While I trusted Boromir, I wanted to make doubly sure that there would be no funny business with trying to put a broken seal back together.

At the end of breakfast I handed the folded paper to him. "If there's a reply, send it to Andy or Mackey and they'll forward it to me," I told him on our way to the stable.

"I will," he agreed, for once looking outright hopeful, "I will reach Minas Tirith within a week. Any reply should come to Edoras within a fortnight after that."

I walked him to the stable while we waited for Brise to gather up her few belongings, craving just a little more time alone with him. "How have Brise and Lance been doing in Minas Tirith, really?" I asked while I got ready a horse that the stablemaster assured was one of their most gentle creatures.

"Did you not ask Brise earlier?" Boromir questioned.

"Yes, but we all have a bad habit of lying and saying everything is fine when really we're on the verge of a break down," I explained casually, "Or when we're about to get tossed out, or when we're in the hospital, or in any number of binds."

A scoff came from the horse I was handling like a contribution to the conversation.

It was echoed by Boromir. "So far as I've heard, there has been nothing to worry about," he reported, "Only the usual worries: bread, beer, and battle."

Ah, that reminded me… "Would you thank your brother for the warning he gave us while we were traveling? We may not have known to be careful if it weren't for him," I requested, grimacing at the idea of being caught in traveling formation with everyone in the wrong saddles or seats.

The mention of his brother made Boromir light up. "I will. He will be interested to hear of your reestablishment of Tharbad as well," he agreed happily, "Sometimes he dreams of places long past- of Numenor and Arnor, Annuminas and Tharbad. To see one return…"

To hear it like that, I was even more proud to have begun rebuilding. I smiled goofily at the saddlebag I was fastening.

"Before I leave, I must know: how did you know when I was leaving Tharbad?" Boromir suddenly asked.

I snickered and considered keeping the mystery. But it wasn't a big secret and Aunt Libby deserved credit for her genius. "Musical floorboards," I eventually answered, "Some boards are designed to squeak and others to be silent, so that everyone who lives there learns to avoid the squeaky parts but an intruder wouldn't know. Ingenious, isn't it?" Bless the Japanese for the idea, whether it was a legend or real.

"Quite," Boromir said thoughtfully, "My travels are generally on stone but Faramir may find that useful."

If it saved even one life, Aunt Libby would be thrilled.

While I was fastening the last buckles, Boromir stepped around the front of the horse to stand beside me. "It may be months before permission comes," he warned, "Father may need to be convinced."

"I can wait a while." I tried to swallow the lump suddenly in my throat and added, "Just not forever, alright?"

"Whether it's in weeks or years, I will return for you or send for you," Boromir promised quietly, "I will not accept anyone less." His blue eyes were clear and sincere.

That I wasn't at the bottom of the barrel was a shock. That I was the top pick, for myself as a woman, felt like a revelation. My eyes went watery and I really couldn't help myself; I pulled him down by the strap across his chest and kissed him, long and hard, right there in the middle of the royal stables.

"Sorry, I just-" I blinked to settle my fuzzy thoughts before I shrugged, smiling abashedly. "Thank you, for seeing me and not the scars." I flexed my grip where I still held onto the shield's travel harness.

"I see both," Boromir answered unexpectedly, "You wouldn't be the same woman without the scars, and the scars can't be there without the woman. I can't quite imagine you without them."

I was just about to cry; I'm a damn softie.

"I'm glad you didn't get hamstrung, by the way," I said to throw him off the emotional rubbish, blinking away the gathered tears, "You wouldn't do well at a desk job." Apparently he had earlier discovered Liam in the tiny library, sort of fondly rolled his eyes, and left before he could be accosted.

It got a chuckle, which I counted as a win. "Most definitely not," he agreed.

"Hey, um, are you ready?" Brise asked from the aisle, travel pack in her arms. Her mouth was in a flat frown and her pretty hazel eyes flickered nervously between our faces, still terrified of being a bother.

"Almost," Boromir answered, before he turned his attention back to me with something like regret.

Knowing that this was the final goodbye, I wrapped my arms around him and tried to remember this. The stable, his warmth, the buckle poking me in the nose, all felt so precious. Again his hand tangled in my hair and again he needed help picking it out but we only smiled about it; annoyance could come when this wasn't a luxury.

It was really too bad that I had to think of my little sister, or I might have gone in for another kiss. "This is Friega. She'll take you to Minas Tirith," I introduced my sister while we all shuffled out of the stall.

Immediately Brise began apologizing to the horse for stealing her labor, and I tried not to think she was being stupid. Instead I asked Boromir, "Are you taking the straight road to Minas Tirith?"

He nodded. "It is well traveled and guarded, and the fastest way." He nodded to Godiva as we passed her house.

She perked up and smiled back, then grinned toothily at me. Beside her Gander sat, having been playing with and watching the children all morning, but now he perked up and followed me.

We reached the gates just a moment later and suddenly my time was up. "Kick Mordor's ass, and remember us," I told Boromir as I held his horse for him to get up.

He laughed, an exhilarated sound that seemed to come with the rolling hills and freedom. "I will," he agreed, serious but smiling.

I then moved over to Brise, who looked a bit nervous as she held the lead. "You'll be fine. Boromir will get you back to your life in one piece," I assured her with a pat to the shoulder, "Maybe we'll even live in the same city again soon."

"That would be cool, yeah." I held the horse while Brise mounted, but didn't need to. She really was a beauty of a steed, I thought with admiration while my sister settled. She didn't even alarm at the large canine just at the edge of her vision.

"Bye, guys. Be safe," I told them both and backed away. They seemed like such inadequate words before a dangerous trek. Suddenly I understood the long proclamations at parting.

To keep things from getting awkward I left them there, with only another quick wave as I walked. The long bellow of Boromir's damn horn made me jump the foot I needed to get in the gates as his journey began. His final gift: a heart attack, I thought half amusedly as I caught my breath.

Now that the wedding was over, things were quieter than usual while the entire town recovered from its days-long party. Not even Grima was up to much except squinting against the light and muttering under his breath. My family slowly began preparations to leave.

I was a bit fuzzy in the head still, so the time seemed to fly by. Thankfully I wasn't needed for much beyond grunt work so I carried grain and stacked sacks and arranged barrels in relative peace for the next few days.

Our initial cargo of pipe weed was spectacularly popular and we got many inquiries from other merchants who went into Gondor's many provinces. We didn't dare sell much of the strong stuff until we could see what effect it would have around here, and only advertised it for pain relief, but within our limits was modestly successful. There was a surprising market for yeasts and honeys from other places that we noted for later. Several bottles of wine and mead were sold at a not-quite ridiculous price to the local nobility and at a reasonable price to the palace, distinguishable for being made the whole way in Bree and Tharbad.

A few good bottles were given to the newly married couples as gifts. For Dezzie they would likely be insurance against any debts she or Stithulf may get in the enormous undertaking of setting up a home. Though I wouldn't blame them for celebrating a bit with his family; they hadn't been able to leave their farm at such a critical time of year.

A dozen more bottles were given to King Theoden, half diplomatic and half personal. We didn't know how they aged so he planned to run an experiment- though he didn't call it that. He would open one each year for the next dozen years to see how they aged, and to celebrate his son finally getting married after twenty years of hoping. Said like that, I could understand why he accepted it all so quickly.

I picked up my scantily increased winnings at the pub, simply glad I hadn't lost anything. "Nobody would take those odds," the barman had explained, "Not unless they were betting on Lord Boromir winning." Some of that was spent on an ale and we chatted for a bit. While alcohol isn't good for a head injury, I was paranoid about the water quality.

There were crying and smiling and laughter as we finally left, diminished from nineteen to sixteen on the way out the gates. Stithulf invited us to stop in his village since it was on the way and since it gave us the chance to linger a little longer with Dezzie, we accepted gladly.

The visit was remarkably unremarkable. The introduction, the confusion on both sides over names and relationships, and the invitation to dinner, were all remarkably cheerful and light-hearted on both sides; the fathers shook hands while the mother and Cressie exchanged embarrassing stories about the newlyweds.

The father's embarrassment was palpable when he admitted that there wasn't space for an additional fifteen people. "You didn't ever expect this many guests from out of town," Aunt Libby assured him, "It's warm and the weather is good. If you have space for the mothers and children, the rest of us could sleep under the wagons."

Then the neighbors overheard and there was no way whatsoever that they'd allow that to stand. This was a close-knit community where marrying anyone from outside the immediate area was rare and everyone had seen everyone else grow up and get old, from bassinet to casket. This was new but their sense of hospitality was old, and welcome.

Kali and I followed an old woman to her house where she gave us bags to fill with fresh hay that we then camped out on in her main room. Her joints were worn and she ached in the remaining chill, so we took care of the work of the meal while she told us about how darling and mischievous a boy Stithulf was. She was his maternal grandmother's sister so she couldn't possibly leave us outside when her bones were telling her that it would rain soon.

It was the barometric pressure, I wanted to say. But that meant less than nothing around here so I swallowed it back and went to sleep like a good guest.

I mentally swore and kicked myself and told myself to fucking get over it, (it had only been a week or so!) but I still missed having Boromir's back against mine as I slept.