Boromir kept a close eye over the two young ladies, both of whom were currently lying in a deep slumber beside the fire. Beside them lay their packs, and just a little further away were their weapons.
He looked at the swords with awe and something akin to reverence. When he had first seen the blades, he had considered them to be only extra-long knives since they were much too thin to be considered proper swords, but after watching the ladies wield them in battle, he was more than convinced.
I have never seen such a mode of battle before, he thought, remembering the mock-battle that had been staged at the top of the hill in Hollin. He had been dazzled by the speed and agility that the girls possessed. They may have lacked power and strength, but their speed has more than compensated for it.
Boromir had spent most of his childhood learning how to fight. He was, after all, the eldest son of the Steward of Gondor, and as such, he was expected to know how to fight well. He was considered to be one of the best swordsmen in Gondor, and many feared to face him in battle, for he was a fierce opponent.
But his perspective about his skill had changed after watching that duel. He had thought that the girls only knew a few tricks with a knife and nothing more, but the way they moved showed years upon years of rigid and disciplined training. He had to admit, if they were to fight side-by-side with him, their grace would certainly make him look like a clumsy fool.
Boromir chuckled softly when he looked across the fire at Aragorn, who was currently deep in conversation with Gandalf. Perhaps even Aragorn would be put to shame. Anduril may be a mighty weapon in his hands, but next to the young maidens it would seem nothing more than an ordinary blade.
His face softened slightly when his thoughts drifted to Camille. She was a very beautiful girl, and carried herself like a woman, though she was only a girl of seventeen. She radiated a warmth, a fire of joy and cheerfulness that he found infectious. And he realized that he had become dependent on her vivacity to block out the lure of the Ring. Whenever the temptation of the Ring became too strong, he would strike up a conversation with her, and for a time, the Ring would be banished completely from his mind.
But I am in a losing battle here, Boromir thought with a sigh. For he knew that the Elf-Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas, was pursuing the young maiden, and what did he stand in the face of such competition? Though he may have been the eldest son of the Steward of Gondor, he was but a mortal, and a mortal does not compete with Elves. Especially an Elf who was a member of the Fellowship as well as the heir to the Kingdom of Mirkwood AND had the favor of all those around him. He would have to content himself with loving her from a distance, being discreet with his affection and wishing for her happiness.
He shook his head, determination creeping over his features. She has not accepted his love yet. I may yet have a chance. I only have to be careful with my affections for her, not to be abrupt with her. A memory drifted through his head then…
~ ~ ~
"What are you doing here, Boromir?"
Boromir looked up from where he had been walking along the paths, and his eye immediately fell upon the Lady Camille Selvitar. He bowed to her slowly, not wishing for a confrontation. "Good afternoon, My Lady."
She tilted her head slowly to one side, an errant lock of her reddish-brown hair falling over one dark brown eye. She smirked slightly at him then. "You know, looking at you right now gives me a sudden urge to hurl you over the balcony and into the waterfall."
Catching the hint of a jesting tone in her voice, Boromir dared to jest her back. He straightened up, smiling slightly. "Surely you will not be able to do that, My Lady."
"You're right," she replied thoughtfully, then shrugged. "Oh well, looks like I'm just going to have to lure you to the top of the waterfall and push you off from there. And if Elrond goes looking, I can always say I just wanted to show you the view and say that you slipped…"
"I do not think you will do that to someone who is a member of the Fellowship."
Camille grinned evilly. "You want to try me?"
Now Boromir laughed. "Ah, you are much too clever to be outwitted!" He smiled at her then, trying to appeal to her good side for once. After all, I have too often seen her in a foul mood…I do not want to hear more death threats today… "You are quite a pleasing conversationalist, if a little mordant in humor."
She smiled brilliantly then, and for a while, Boromir's breath caught in his throat because of her beauty. "Hah, if I'm sarcastic, you should talk to Eli. She's worse than I am when it comes to having a very ironic humor."
"But the Lady Eli is not here, so I suppose I must put up with you, then." He approached her, his keen eyes watching her for any signs of flight – or a possible attack – but finding none, he relaxed, and stood before her. "As I have said, I am rather enjoying this conversation with you today. Too few are the women in Gondor who can talk as wittily as you can. You are a pleasant change from the ordinary."
"Well, that's me, anything BUT ordinary," Camille answered with a grin. "I'm so out-of-the-ordinary that people call me a freak!"
Boromir laughed again, and spent the rest of the afternoon with her, talking about almost anything that their conversation could touch on. And when she left him, he felt an emptiness in his heart, and wondered what it meant.
~ ~ ~
A soft yawn was heard, and Camille sat up, slowly rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Whoa, that was some dream…" She placed her hands at the small of her back, and pushed, her bones making a cracking sound as she slowly stretched out her muscles like a cat. "I dreamt that Eli and I got to meet the Four Gods."
"I would not consider that a mere dream, Camille," Boromir said as he pointed at the weapons that lay nearby.
Camille followed his gaze, and her jaw dropped wide open. "Holy…" She crawled over to the bow, and picked it up, slowly running her fingers over the wood and the gold. "This CANNOT be real…"
Legolas appeared at her side then, and smiled at her. "It is real, Camille. You passed the trials. You and Eli are the Summoners now."
"Trials?" The girl's face paled all of a sudden as she gazed at the Elf. "Then that means that I nearly-"
Legolas smiled at her then, and there was something in his smile that said he knew what she meant, and that he was not angry with her for what she did.
Boromir noticed that Camille's bottom lip had begun to tremble in a rather childish, and yet, endearing manner. For all her strength, intelligence and wisdom, she is but a child of seventeen. No, not quite a child, but not a woman yet.
In the meantime, Eli had awoken, and had spoken almost the same words as Camille had. But the moment she saw her sword, she realized that what had transpired was no mere dream. Boromir gazed at her as she drew the sword out of the sheath, the metal singing in the cold night air. The blade gleamed brilliantly in the light from the moon, stars and fire; red and pale silver dancing over the image of a dragon that was engraved into the blade itself.
"It is a fine blade," Aragorn said then, for he and Gandalf had paused in their conversation momentarily to look as the young girls awakened from their slumber.
"Yes, you're right," Eli whispered as she returned the blade to its scabbard. "The last time I got to handle a blade this good was when my father passed on the Sakabattou to me."
Boromir raised an eyebrow. "The Sakabattou?" After that rather fatal mistake during the Council, he had come to accept the fact that these girls were indeed from another world. He hadn't heard a lot about it, save for that discussion about holidays several nights ago, and he was eager to learn more about it.
"The Sakabattou, or Sakaba, as we sometimes call it, is a very special heirloom in my family," Eli explained. "It's a katana – the kind of sword I use – but a very special one. The Sakaba, unlike this sword I have with me, is sharpened on the wrong edge." She pointed to the outer curve of her blade. "On the Sakaba, this part is not sharpened. Rather, the opposite side is. As you can probably tell, the only way anyone can kill with that kind of sword would be to reverse it; in such a case, it would be a very tricky thing to handle."
"Then why sharpen the wrong side of the blade at all?" Gimli asked. "Is it not a waste of time and effort?"
Eli smiled slightly. "Because the Sakaba wasn't meant to kill. It is a symbol stating that all conflicts and differences should be solved without bloodshed. However, since in the quest for the greater good killing cannot be avoided, then blood must be spilled. My ancestors believed that a sword and the art that uses it is not a weapon for destruction; rather, it is a tool for carving out peace and harmony for all."
Gandalf smiled. "It is a good philosophy, my dear, and I am glad to see that you and Camille carry it in your words and actions." He sighed deeply. "If only all problems could be solved as easily."
Suddenly, Legolas jumped to his feet, his eyes scanning the area around them. "But I believe we must put aside that viewpoint for now, my friends. The wind tells me that we are not welcome here."
Boromir looked up, and listened, cringing slightly when he heard the news the wind brought. There was howling all around them, and in the distance, several eyes glowed back at them. "Wolves."
Aragorn leapt to his feet. "How the wind howls! It is howling with wolf voices. The Wargs have come West of the mountains!"
"Need we wait until morning, then?" said Gandalf. "It is as I said; the hunt is up! Even if we live to see the dawn, who now will wish to journey south by night with the wild wolves on his trail?"
Boromir cursed to himself. It seems that there is no other way. "How far is Moria?"
"There was a door southwest of Caradhras, some fifteen miles as the crow flies, and maybe twenty as the wolf runs," answered Gandalf grimly.
"Then let us start as soon as it is light tomorrow, if we can," Boromir said, his hand straying to the hilt of his sword. "The wolf that one hears is worse than the Orc that one fears."
"True," said Aragorn, loosening Anduril from its sheath. "But where the Warg howls, there also the Orc prowls."
* * *
Camille sat up from her little sleeping patch on the ground, and sighed. There is NO WAY I'm going to be able to get any decent sleep tonight, not with all this talk about wolves and Wargs and whatnot. Deciding with finality that there was no use forcing herself to sleep, she picked up her bow, attached her kodachi to her belt, and walked over to Gandalf, Aragorn, and Boromir. The Elf was nowhere in sight, as he was in charge of the watch that night, but the three others probably couldn't sleep, not with the possibility of a Warg attack.
Gandalf looked at her as she was approaching, and grinned at her, his eyes twinkling from beneath his bushy gray eyebrows. "You could not sleep, could you?"
"No, not after that wonderful report I heard a while ago about wolves and Wargs and Orcs hunting us around," Camille muttered as she plopped down in the space between Aragorn and the Wizard.
Aragorn chuckled as he gently nudged her in the ribs, poking the fire with a stick so that it flared more brightly and gave added warmth. "Forgive us if what we spoke about will deprive you of sleep. You and Eli need it the most, I deem."
Camille shrugged. "I'll be okay." She nodded towards Eli, smirking. "That girl sleeps like a log under any circumstances. Won't wake up until the building's set on fire. Of course, if anyone even TRIED to wake her up outside of an emergency, then there'll be hell to pay."
Those who were listening laughed at her joke, their minds momentarily taken off of the trouble they had to face. "Would that perhaps be the reason why you and Eli were so disagreeable on the morning of the Council?" Boromir asked.
"Yeah, partially because we aren't morning persons and partially because we had terrible hangovers after the feast the night before, but mostly because we felt insulted because you basically called us liars," Camille said innocently.
The Gondorian blushed, and ducked his head. "I hope you will forgive me, Camille. I did not mean to insult you then. I was merely taken by surprise by your appearance at the Council."
But Camille didn't hear him say that, because as he was talking, Legolas approached them from his post, his face grim and his hand gripping his bow tightly. "They have come."
Suddenly a storm of howls rose broke out fierce and wild all about the camp. A great host of Wargs had gathered silently and was now attacking them from all sides at once.
"Fling fuel on the fire!" Gandalf cried to the Hobbits, most of who were startled out of their sleep by the wolf howls. The Wizard turned to the rest of the Fellowship as they began to move closer to the fire. "Draw your weapons, and stand back to back!"
Camille pulled an arrow from her quiver, and readied it in her bow, aiming it towards the gloom.
Eli stood beside her, her sword drawn. "What in the pits of hell is so important that I have to give up my beauty sleep?"
"Wargs," Camille muttered in reply. In the light of the fire, she saw several gray shapes coming towards them in an almost endless wave. She shot down the first one that got too close, her bow twanging loudly. Another twang sounded, and when she looked, she noticed that Legolas was shooting as well.
While the two of them took out as many as they could with their long-range weapons, the others used their blades to slaughter any that got too close. Aragorn thrust his sword into the throat of a particularly huge Warg; Boromir chopped the head off another. Gimli swung his axe, and sliced right through two. The Hobbits worked as one, keeping as many away as they could. Gandalf knocked back the rest with his staff and an occasional bolt of magic.
But there were just too many, and Camille was getting tired. What are we going to do?! A sudden flare of energy coursed through her veins, and in a flash of insight, she knew what she had to do.
She stepped away slightly from the rest of the Company, though most of them – Legolas in particular – called her back to the safety of their circle. But she didn't pay them heed. This is something I can do, and no one else can. She eyed the Wargs with a haughty gaze, and spoke. "What are you Wargs in the face of one who helped to create this entire world, who helped to create your kind? Your ferocity means nothing to me. You may howl your most fearsome howl, you may bare your teeth to me, but they shall still mean nothing. You are nothing to me."
The Wargs paused for a while in their assault, and eyed her warily. But then, one of their leaders howled, loud and bone chilling. Even Gandalf had to shudder when he heard it. But it did nothing to Camille. In fact, it only served to heighten her anger. She raised her hand slowly, not noticing that a symbol had flared to life on her brow. "Feel the wrath of a Summoner. FIRE CIRCLE!"
The flames in the fire pit leaped to life, jumping sky-high. Camille felt energy course from her veins and into the air around her. In moments, a large circle of fire had been drawn on the ground around the Fellowship, and any Wargs that happened to be standing inside it were immediately burnt to ashes. Not wasting any time, Camille concentrated more, and the circle suddenly opened farther out, blasting a wave of flame into all the Wargs within a five-mile proximity of their camp. Needless to say, the night air was filled with the screams of dying Wargs, and the stench as their bodies burned made her eyes water. Whatever Wargs remained alive had most likely fled.
When everything had finally calmed down somewhat, Camille sighed, and lowered her hand, feeling quite tired all of a sudden. That was rather exhausting.
But she didn't have a lot of time to herself, for almost immediately the Hobbits were around her, leading her back to the now normal-looking campfire and begging her to tell them what in the world she did.
"I've never seen Gandalf do anything like that, not even with his fireworks!" Pippin exclaimed as Camille sat down with a tired sigh.
Camille looked up at the Hobbit, just barely managing a smile. "I don't really know HOW I did it, Pip. I just sort of…knew that I could. The words just came out of my mouth, and then it happened. Pretty good timing, actually."
Merry looked at her with awe. "You have quite a lot of courage to go walking up to a Warg the way you did! I almost thought you were done for!"
"And that light…you were literally glowing, Miss Camille!" cried Sam. "You were sending out a bright red light that looked like fire!"
Frodo smiled at her. "I saw a symbol on your forehead, Camille. And there were characters on the ground when you cast the spell that killed the Wargs."
Eli answered for her then, sensing that her best friend was too tired to make a reply. "I think we've just seen the power of Suzako, Master of the Flame. The symbol on her forehead read 'Phoenix', because she was using the power of Suzako, the Crimson Phoenix." She grinned at Camille then. "Pretty cool spell, if I do say so myself. Next time, it'll be my turn, okay?"
Camille laughed at Eli's remark. "It's all yours, Eli. I think I'm too tired to do any more spell-casting for quite some time."
* * *
Night lay thick and heavy over the little camp. The fire had burned down low, and most of the Fellowship was asleep. The only ones left awake were Boromir and Gandalf.
Boromir looked out into the distance, his fingers playing along the hilt of his sword in restlessness. More than once did his eyes settle on Frodo, but when he realized this, he would sharply avert his gaze to the sleeping Camille, and a smile would reveal itself on his face, and he was not as restless as before.
It was then that Gandalf chose to speak. "Boromir of Gondor, she was not meant for you."
Boromir sighed heavily, and nodded. "Perhaps, Gandalf, but can I not keep this hope burning within me for just a while longer? She has not yet accepted the love of the Elf Prince, has she? He is still courting her. I may yet have a chance."
"You do realize that you are much older than she is," said Gandalf. "I already know what Legolas has seen in her, though he is more than two thousand years her senior." He focused his piercing eyes on the heir of the Steward of Gondor. "What do you see in her, a mere child of seventeen, that draws you to her?"
Boromir smiled, and looked upon the softly twinkling stars. "It is…her merriment, I suppose. And her intelligence, the strength that lies within her though she may conceal it. She would make a good Queen." He smiled more broadly then, as visions danced before his mind's eye. "Aye, indeed, she would make a fair Lady of Gondor, with the beauty to befit the title and the mettle and wisdom to lead a nation of Men. If she were to become the Lady of the White Tower, then Gondor will become strengthened by her wisdom and will falter no longer."
Gandalf nodded. "She and Eli are fair, 'fairer than any yet to be seen', as the prophecy said. And they would indeed make good leaders – that I find true, without a doubt – but I feel that their destiny lies elsewhere. Camille's destiny does not lie with yours."
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Uh yeah, that's done. Once again, this is another rather pointless chapter (like Chapter Fifteen: Christmas on the Road), but I really plan to follow the books this time, and in the book, the Fellowship gets attacked by Wargs just as they are making camp after their ordeal on Caradhras. This made for the perfect opportunity to show off one of the girls' powers. Oh yeah, and I stole the Sakabattou (Sakaba for short) from the anime Rurouni Kenshin. And, hmmm…seems like Boromir hidden feelings for Camille! Do I smell another love triangle in the air?!?! ANYWAY, on to the next chapter! The Fellowship has decided to go through Moria, but getting there isn't going to be easy. See what happens in the next chapter! Ja!