Ok, I understand that you don't understand why it's all Mary-Jane's fault.
Well, it's not. That's the simple answer. She's a Mary-Sue, so is
therefore perfect, so how could it be her fault? (rhetorical question, do
not feel obliged to answer. She just thinks it's her fault, you find out
why later. You could say it is actually her fault, but you would be wrong.
It is a little angsty so be warned. I am not responsible for any mental health problems resulting from this fic, just as I am not held responsible for any organ failures or internal haemorrhaging that may come about as a result.
That being said I will now proceed to write the chapter.
Onwards!
Chapter 6: (can you believe it's already chapter 6??? Well it is)
It was her fault: she knew it. She stumbled blindly through the forest, not knowing where she went, not caring.
She didn't care about the orcs or the danger they presented. She didn't care about the branches clinging to her, tearing at her skin and clothing. All she knew was that a man was dead, because of her. It was all her fault.
Her brilliant sword skills, which she had miraculously acquired, hadn't been enough. She was a burden on Legolas, a burden that he should never have had to bear on his slender shoulders. If it hadn't been for her, he could have been there. He could have made it on time. Answered the desperate call, its last plea for life. She had denied Legolas this chance. Now the man was dead. She had denied this man his life.
She should have done something more. She had been only concerned about her own life. She hadn't cared for anyone or anything else. She tried to call it human nature, when we are in deadly peril we instinctively choose our own life over others. That would not work. She only felt guiltier, trying to shift some of the blame. She was selfish and someone's life had paid for that selfishness. She hadn't done enough. She could've done more.
She wiped the tears from her cheeks and eyes, smearing mud across her face. She flicked back her hair in an attempt to keep the strands from blinding her (and yes, her hair is still brown). Still the tears came. She made no attempt to compose herself. Let them fall, she thought. She'd given up caring about so much, why care about tears? She deserved to suffer from guilt and pain. It was her fault. Perhaps the guilt would run out of her with the tears, she thought. Maybe her guilt would find an escape from her mind and body through her tears.
She could walk no further. Her energy was finally spent. Her mind was threatening to give up under the pressure of her mounting emotions. Her legs gave way, falling from under her. She buckled at the knees and fell forward, onto her face. She felt half-inclined to stay there. Leave herself; face down on the forest floor. To die. She had lost the will to go on. Lost the will to live.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Legolas stood, staring at the two figures amidst the strewn orc bodies. Boromir was dead. He died, trying to save Merry and Pippin. Perhaps Men could be gallant after all. His heart was filled with pity for the man who had fallen. He sensed that Boromir's death heralded the end of something. The end of the fellowship.
Gandalf's departure had weighed heavily on all their hearts and any hope that remained had been dashed and shattered. But hope was still there; in it's weakest and smallest form. Now that Boromir was dead it was hard to find any hope at all. Did Galadriel not say that hope remained while the fellowship stayed strong and true? But now the fellowship was broken. Where could hope now be found?
He heard Mary-Jane's footsteps as she left the clearing, and stumbled through the forest. The footsteps grew fainter. Too overcome with grief he did not follow her.
Legolas searched his mind and soul for the remnants of the shattered hope. He felt something stir in his heart. Something that felt like courage, determination, perhaps even hope. It grew in the dark places of his heart, seeping into the parts covered by grief and remorse. He was not going to let go. He was not going to give up.
It was Gimli who woke him from his meditations. The world had seemed to stop; there had been nothing except grief, pity and reflections. Gimli was on his knees, grieving over Boromir's departure. He stood, the movement rousing Legolas from his trance. Gimli looked troubled and concerned, but determined, reflecting Legolas' state of mind. Aragorn glanced up at Gimli, guessing his thoughts and agreeing. This was no place to grieve for a fallen warrior. His noble death inspired the very deepest of grief, but the time would come when they could express it, at the right time, at the right place: Minas Tirith.
Danger was still lurking in the deep forest, Aragorn knew to well that they were easy prey, grief stricken, weary from battle and the long journey. They carried Boromir's body back to the Great River. The river, the Anduin, flowed south to Gondor. Boromir was finally going home, and soon his kinsmen would know of his departure from this world (if you haven't read Two Towers you should, I am writing this assuming you've all read it, so am not to be held responsible for any 'spoilers' as there are none).
They reached the shore. Legolas' sharp eyes detected movement on the opposite shore. It did not look like orcs, they did not move in that fashion. Then it dawned on him.
'Frodo and Sam have reached the Eastern Shore!' He cried.
'Yes, I let them go,' replied Aragorn, Gimli looking on in amazement. He had given up all hope, thinking that the orcs had taken Frodo and the Ring.
'You mean not to follow them?' Legolas was confused, and a tad troubled by the remark.
'Then we have failed: the Fellowship has failed. We are failures,' Gimli sulked. Legolas looked down at him in distaste, he didn't like being called a failure, he had never failed in anything in his life. They had been unlucky, but it was just plain rude to brand them all as failures. Aragorn was looking at Gimli with a similar expression. He didn't like being called a failure either, but wasn't as personally offended as Legolas by his remarks. He decided to say something heroic.
'Frodo and Sam's fate is out of our hands now,' he said, trying to convince them that he wasn't just saying that because he couldn't be bothered to follow Sam and Frodo. And the thought of Mordor frightened the shit out of him. He never meaned to go to Mordor with them, he was going to go off to Minas Tirith with Boromir, and live comfortably there for a while. But while we still have strength we may as well do something heroic like try to save Merry and Pippin, he thought. 'We will not let Merry and Pippin suffer torment and death under the cruel hands of the enemy, not while we have strength left in us.' He was getting good at this talking-like-a-king stuff.
With that Aragorn jumped down, and ran, following the path of mangled shrubbery that marked the way the orcs had travelled.
Gimli looked up at Legolas as if to say 'oh know, not again'. Unlike some he didn't appreciate Aragorn's spasmodic fits of determination. Gimli gave a yell of frustration and followed Aragorn. Legolas was about to follow when a memory surfaced in his perfect mind. Namigaal.
Oh dear. He only hoped she didn't sulk off like this after every battle. He soon found her track, and followed it. He saw her, lying face down in the forest floor. Fear gripped his heart. He approached her body carefully. He didn't see any visible wounds but she could have easily suffered a mortal blow to the front, with no signs of it on her back. He was standing beside her before Mary-Jane realised that someone was invading her personal space. She gasped and twisted around, only now aware of the danger she could be in.
Legolas jumped back in surprise. Namigaal was alive and well, so it seemed. Her face was streaked with tears, making lines in the grime and mud down her cheeks, and her eyes were red and swollen. She looked up at him, searching for answers that he could not give.
He crouched down beside her, and lifted her so she was sitting. He looked into her eyes and saw the grief and guilt embedded in her mind. He couldn't se why though, this troubled him greatly, he yearned to understand.
She read his questioning eyes, and tried to offer an explanation.
'It's my fault,' were the only words she could find. 'I'm sorry.'
'How?'
'I should've done something, I shouldn't have even been here,' she faltered. 'You could have, if I wasn't here,' she was having trouble explaining herself, and it sounded lame and awkward when it was spoken.
'You couldn't have done anything. He died for his noble cause,' he reassured her.
'He died because of me,' she said bitterly.
He started. Could she really be a servant of the enemy? Perhaps an unwilling one. He looked into her eyes again, trying to find the gravity of this comment. He could not see evil there. She was only blaming herself because she could not make sense of the situation and could not find anyone else to blame.
'I can not force you to see the truth, for you know it well yourself. You will see, in time, that your presence here has been a blessing on us all. You could have done nothing to save him. He betrayed himself to the power of the Ring.'
She did not understand the most of this, but took comfort in his words and his melodious voice.
'Come. 'My fiends are journeying yonder,' he pointed vaguely, 'we must draw near them, and perhaps meet them again before the sun stoops low.'
He took her hand, and helped her up. She felt his touch, like magic; it was soft and caressing, yet firm and strong at the same time. She ran with him through the forest. Her heart was lighter and her weary legs grew stronger with each passing step. She knew not what hope was rising in her, but rise it did.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
That's it. I know it's a crap ending. I'll write some more soon. But at the moment I'm supposed to be getting ready for my formal, so too-da-loo.
Yeah, and need I remind you to review??
It is a little angsty so be warned. I am not responsible for any mental health problems resulting from this fic, just as I am not held responsible for any organ failures or internal haemorrhaging that may come about as a result.
That being said I will now proceed to write the chapter.
Onwards!
Chapter 6: (can you believe it's already chapter 6??? Well it is)
It was her fault: she knew it. She stumbled blindly through the forest, not knowing where she went, not caring.
She didn't care about the orcs or the danger they presented. She didn't care about the branches clinging to her, tearing at her skin and clothing. All she knew was that a man was dead, because of her. It was all her fault.
Her brilliant sword skills, which she had miraculously acquired, hadn't been enough. She was a burden on Legolas, a burden that he should never have had to bear on his slender shoulders. If it hadn't been for her, he could have been there. He could have made it on time. Answered the desperate call, its last plea for life. She had denied Legolas this chance. Now the man was dead. She had denied this man his life.
She should have done something more. She had been only concerned about her own life. She hadn't cared for anyone or anything else. She tried to call it human nature, when we are in deadly peril we instinctively choose our own life over others. That would not work. She only felt guiltier, trying to shift some of the blame. She was selfish and someone's life had paid for that selfishness. She hadn't done enough. She could've done more.
She wiped the tears from her cheeks and eyes, smearing mud across her face. She flicked back her hair in an attempt to keep the strands from blinding her (and yes, her hair is still brown). Still the tears came. She made no attempt to compose herself. Let them fall, she thought. She'd given up caring about so much, why care about tears? She deserved to suffer from guilt and pain. It was her fault. Perhaps the guilt would run out of her with the tears, she thought. Maybe her guilt would find an escape from her mind and body through her tears.
She could walk no further. Her energy was finally spent. Her mind was threatening to give up under the pressure of her mounting emotions. Her legs gave way, falling from under her. She buckled at the knees and fell forward, onto her face. She felt half-inclined to stay there. Leave herself; face down on the forest floor. To die. She had lost the will to go on. Lost the will to live.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Legolas stood, staring at the two figures amidst the strewn orc bodies. Boromir was dead. He died, trying to save Merry and Pippin. Perhaps Men could be gallant after all. His heart was filled with pity for the man who had fallen. He sensed that Boromir's death heralded the end of something. The end of the fellowship.
Gandalf's departure had weighed heavily on all their hearts and any hope that remained had been dashed and shattered. But hope was still there; in it's weakest and smallest form. Now that Boromir was dead it was hard to find any hope at all. Did Galadriel not say that hope remained while the fellowship stayed strong and true? But now the fellowship was broken. Where could hope now be found?
He heard Mary-Jane's footsteps as she left the clearing, and stumbled through the forest. The footsteps grew fainter. Too overcome with grief he did not follow her.
Legolas searched his mind and soul for the remnants of the shattered hope. He felt something stir in his heart. Something that felt like courage, determination, perhaps even hope. It grew in the dark places of his heart, seeping into the parts covered by grief and remorse. He was not going to let go. He was not going to give up.
It was Gimli who woke him from his meditations. The world had seemed to stop; there had been nothing except grief, pity and reflections. Gimli was on his knees, grieving over Boromir's departure. He stood, the movement rousing Legolas from his trance. Gimli looked troubled and concerned, but determined, reflecting Legolas' state of mind. Aragorn glanced up at Gimli, guessing his thoughts and agreeing. This was no place to grieve for a fallen warrior. His noble death inspired the very deepest of grief, but the time would come when they could express it, at the right time, at the right place: Minas Tirith.
Danger was still lurking in the deep forest, Aragorn knew to well that they were easy prey, grief stricken, weary from battle and the long journey. They carried Boromir's body back to the Great River. The river, the Anduin, flowed south to Gondor. Boromir was finally going home, and soon his kinsmen would know of his departure from this world (if you haven't read Two Towers you should, I am writing this assuming you've all read it, so am not to be held responsible for any 'spoilers' as there are none).
They reached the shore. Legolas' sharp eyes detected movement on the opposite shore. It did not look like orcs, they did not move in that fashion. Then it dawned on him.
'Frodo and Sam have reached the Eastern Shore!' He cried.
'Yes, I let them go,' replied Aragorn, Gimli looking on in amazement. He had given up all hope, thinking that the orcs had taken Frodo and the Ring.
'You mean not to follow them?' Legolas was confused, and a tad troubled by the remark.
'Then we have failed: the Fellowship has failed. We are failures,' Gimli sulked. Legolas looked down at him in distaste, he didn't like being called a failure, he had never failed in anything in his life. They had been unlucky, but it was just plain rude to brand them all as failures. Aragorn was looking at Gimli with a similar expression. He didn't like being called a failure either, but wasn't as personally offended as Legolas by his remarks. He decided to say something heroic.
'Frodo and Sam's fate is out of our hands now,' he said, trying to convince them that he wasn't just saying that because he couldn't be bothered to follow Sam and Frodo. And the thought of Mordor frightened the shit out of him. He never meaned to go to Mordor with them, he was going to go off to Minas Tirith with Boromir, and live comfortably there for a while. But while we still have strength we may as well do something heroic like try to save Merry and Pippin, he thought. 'We will not let Merry and Pippin suffer torment and death under the cruel hands of the enemy, not while we have strength left in us.' He was getting good at this talking-like-a-king stuff.
With that Aragorn jumped down, and ran, following the path of mangled shrubbery that marked the way the orcs had travelled.
Gimli looked up at Legolas as if to say 'oh know, not again'. Unlike some he didn't appreciate Aragorn's spasmodic fits of determination. Gimli gave a yell of frustration and followed Aragorn. Legolas was about to follow when a memory surfaced in his perfect mind. Namigaal.
Oh dear. He only hoped she didn't sulk off like this after every battle. He soon found her track, and followed it. He saw her, lying face down in the forest floor. Fear gripped his heart. He approached her body carefully. He didn't see any visible wounds but she could have easily suffered a mortal blow to the front, with no signs of it on her back. He was standing beside her before Mary-Jane realised that someone was invading her personal space. She gasped and twisted around, only now aware of the danger she could be in.
Legolas jumped back in surprise. Namigaal was alive and well, so it seemed. Her face was streaked with tears, making lines in the grime and mud down her cheeks, and her eyes were red and swollen. She looked up at him, searching for answers that he could not give.
He crouched down beside her, and lifted her so she was sitting. He looked into her eyes and saw the grief and guilt embedded in her mind. He couldn't se why though, this troubled him greatly, he yearned to understand.
She read his questioning eyes, and tried to offer an explanation.
'It's my fault,' were the only words she could find. 'I'm sorry.'
'How?'
'I should've done something, I shouldn't have even been here,' she faltered. 'You could have, if I wasn't here,' she was having trouble explaining herself, and it sounded lame and awkward when it was spoken.
'You couldn't have done anything. He died for his noble cause,' he reassured her.
'He died because of me,' she said bitterly.
He started. Could she really be a servant of the enemy? Perhaps an unwilling one. He looked into her eyes again, trying to find the gravity of this comment. He could not see evil there. She was only blaming herself because she could not make sense of the situation and could not find anyone else to blame.
'I can not force you to see the truth, for you know it well yourself. You will see, in time, that your presence here has been a blessing on us all. You could have done nothing to save him. He betrayed himself to the power of the Ring.'
She did not understand the most of this, but took comfort in his words and his melodious voice.
'Come. 'My fiends are journeying yonder,' he pointed vaguely, 'we must draw near them, and perhaps meet them again before the sun stoops low.'
He took her hand, and helped her up. She felt his touch, like magic; it was soft and caressing, yet firm and strong at the same time. She ran with him through the forest. Her heart was lighter and her weary legs grew stronger with each passing step. She knew not what hope was rising in her, but rise it did.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
That's it. I know it's a crap ending. I'll write some more soon. But at the moment I'm supposed to be getting ready for my formal, so too-da-loo.
Yeah, and need I remind you to review??