Disclaimer: Do I need one of these? Really, I'm serious. Do I need one? I
don't think I do.
A/N: I don't really have anything to say at this point except for it's late, the Riders of Rohan are horny as hell, and I need sleep.
Time: For The Love Of Women
The next morning, every one packed up their things and Rachel once again grabbed Boromir's pack. It seemed a little bit heavier then the day before and she decided that she definitely deserved a trip to her chiropractor, but she wouldn't say a wo—
"Hey!" she yelled as Aragorn pulled the pack and shield off her shoulders. She was relieved, but pissed. He didn't think she could handle it.
"We split the weight," he told her, handing Legolas the pack and keeping the shield for himself. Rachel sat patiently, waiting for her share of the weight, but it never came.
"What am I going to carry?" she asked irritably. Gimli, who the entire time had never carried a bag, picked hers up and Boromir stood awkwardly. Rachel gawked at them.
"Nothing. You'll assist Boromir," Aragorn told her. Rachel was furious. She wasn't a school girl wanting a jock to carry her damn books. She let them know it too.
"Mattaka no baka!" she yelled at them. Basically, she called them all damned fools in Japanese. She opened the zipper on her pack roughly and, still cursing in various languages, she produced from it a holster for two fire arms, her guns, two extra clips, and her daggers. Then she also strapped on her bow and quiver. Everyone waited for her to finish.
"Tu es muy stupido y loco! Tu comprende? Hay caramba!" she yelled in Aragorn's face. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged to the others. Rachel sighed and stood sluggishly beside Boromir, offering him a hand if he needed it. They set off in the direction of a tall tower of black smoke in the plains of Rohan.
"Stop! Which are these riders? Are they friend or foe?" Aragorn pondered. Legolas and Rachel stood on a nearby rock, peering into the distance as at least one hundred horsemen galloped in their direction. Legolas jumped down to speak to Aragorn. Although the thought of Rachel was tempting, this was more pressing.
"They are the Riders of Rohan. Should we welcome them?" he asked. Aragorn looked at Gimli and the uncomfortable Boromir sitting on a rock and shook his head.
"You four hide along the road. I'll greet them," he instructed. Rachel didn't move. She was still watching the Riders approach. They were less than two miles off now.
"Rachel. What are you doing?" Boromir asked. Aragorn stood in the middle of the road and the others lay down in a ditch. Rachel still stared at the Riders.
"Rachel?" Gimli said. Legolas watched her.
"I can actually see the whites of their eyes! This is so awesome!" she yelled. Childish glee overcame her and she laughed. This was too good to be true for her. She did not have the best eye sight in the world and to be able to read a newspaper from two miles off was unreal. Also, imagine what it would do to her tracking and spying capabilities!
A hand pulled her into the ditch when the Riders were about three hundred yards off. Rachel was fascinated. You see, she had been riding horses her entire life. These were supposed to be the most beautiful horses ever in creation. Gimli and Boromir laughed. Legolas smiled ever so faintly. Rachel looked at them with innocent confusion. She honestly had no idea what was funny.
"What?!"
"The look on your face I wouldn't trade for all of Gondor!" Boromir guffawed. Rachel smirked mockingly and told them to shut up when the Riders approached.
"Riders of Rohan!" Aragorn yelled to the passing horsemen. In a sweeping circle, their leader brought them around, forming a great circle around the ranger. Aragorn stood, kingly, in the center of the commotion. Gimli and Boromir had to hold Rachel back from saying "hello" to the horses.
"We did not see you! How is it you avoided our site?" a particularly handsome man said. He had to be the leader. If Rachel remembered correctly, his name was Èomer. She decided that it was time to be serious and her "mission" face was on again. She put the hood up on her cloak. She had been really laid back in the past few days. Aragorn bowed his head and showed his cloak.
"Gifts from the Lady of the Wood. I have companions," he said, looking at us. We stood and walked into the circle. Èomer put a hand to his forehead.
"An elf, a man, a dwarf and a woman! I have no words!" he joked. Rachel remembered dwarves and elves only being a legend in Rohan. She doubted they had women fighters either. She understood they were laughing about them when Èomer's soldiers began chuckling as well. Rachel stepped forward.
"Excuse me, Èomer, son of Èomund, but we're real beings and I don't appreciate your smirking!" she yelled at him. The Riders stopped immediately and Èomer dismounted from his horse. He walked to Rachel and grabbed her chin. She gave him an icy stare.
"How did you know my name, witch?" he asked with a lethal tone.
"I'm no witch. I'm a soldier. Now get your hands off of me or so help me—"
"What would you do?" he asked, rubbing his thumb along her cheek. Something pulled Èomer off Rachel roughly. Legolas stood in front of her and the Rider laughed.
"I did not realize that she was so important! Do accept my apology, but I don't understand how a woman could be considered your companion!" he confessed, arms raised in surrender. Boromir held Rachel back as she nearly punched the Rider in the jaw. Aragorn looked at her furiously.
"I'm afraid she is temperamental, but, and do forgive me for saying this, she is a far better warrior then anyone in your troop. She knows of skills none of Middle-Earth has learned of. Do not anger her further," Aragorn pleaded. Èomer smiled and bowed pleasantly to Rachel. She nearly spat at him.
"I'm sorry, my lady. I had no idea you were a soldier!" he cried. Rachel growled.
"Do the weapons I carry mean nothing to you?!"
"Again, forgive me. Please, your names!" the Rider asked. Aragorn nodded and looked at Boromir who let Rachel go. She jerked away from him and stood, staring at Èomer, waiting for him to say one thing wrong.
"I am Gimli, son of Gloin the dwarven ruler of Moria."
"I am Legolas, son of Thranduil the elven king of Mirkwood."
"I am Boromir, son of Denethor the Steward of Gondor."
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn the king of Gondor."
The men bowed and waited for Rachel to give over her name. Gimli hit her in the ribs and she jumped, sighed, and rolled her eyes.
"I am Rachel ConawayBennison, leader of the elite Marines corps, Scorpions."
"I had no idea we had such dignified men…and lady…in our midst!" Èomer exclaimed. He bowed and many of his followers nodded their heads.
"You have no clue who I am…how do you know I'm dignified? And Gimli and Legolas are just legends to you! How do you know them?!" Rachel interrogated loudly. Èomer faltered. He wasn't quite sure, himself.
"Indeed, I have no clue what a Marine is. And, yes, dwarves and elves are just legends to me. You are a legend to me, my lady. Though, you are as much a beauty as a mystery in my mind," Èomer whispered. Legolas' ear twitched. He didn't like this, but Rachel could take care4 of herself…maybe. She got a little bit too carried away when men did the whole "I'm going to impress you with my dominance and ego" thing.
"Am I suppose to thank you?" Rachel asked sarcastically. The Riders laughed.
"I'm sorry, we have been away from home for a long while. The site of a woman is a welcome one. What, pray tell, is a Marine? Certainly not an elven or dwarven group for you are neither!"
"No, it's not. Human, actually. And I used to be such," Rachel said, smiling. She drew back her cloak and was welcomed by gasps. Èomer looked upon her with new awe. Her ears and gold-red hair shone beautifully in the afternoon light.
"A surprise, to be sure!"
"In any matter, we have a wounded friend, Boromir," Aragorn began. Èomer looked at him and nodded, but still glanced at Rachel. Legolas came to her side protectively. Nothing, especially a Rider of Rohan…especially this Èomer, was going to touch her ever again.
"You do."
"First, before more is spoken, do you serve the Dark Lord, Sauron?" Gimli asked. Èomer shook his head.
"We serve only the Mark of Rohan and he does not mingle with the Dark Lord. After our finest horses were tortured nearly to death and are now the beasts of the black, cloaked figures, we despise Mordor. We conduct no business there," Èomer said truthfully. One thing good about him.
"Friends, you are then. I have a favor to ask of you," Aragorn said, looking at Boromir.
"Anything I may do," Èomer said, bowing again. Rachel sighed and rolled her eyes. He was really getting on her nerves. The lecherous little…
"Spare us horses and let Boromir ride home with you. He needs to be healed for he was shot with an orc's bow not more than three days ago," Aragorn asked. Èomer whistled and four horses walked forward.
"Four of our men were killed, sadly, but these will be the horses you may use. Be sure that these beasts return to Rohan, for it is my skull the Mark will crush if you do not!"
Rachel helped Boromir onto a horse, making it kneel on its haunches for him. She found a particularly beautiful, black stallion to ride herself.
"My lady! I would not ride that beast if I were you!"
"And why not?"
"He is the son of Shadowfax, the Mark's stallion, and the only out of ten steeds to return from Mordor. Mordil is his name and it suits him well," Èomer smirked. Rachel returned the motion. Mordil meant the Dark One and he did have the red eyes and black coat to match those of the Ringwraiths. Still, Rachel approached him and when he reared in protest to her touch, she didn't move. Legolas watched in wonder. Even he would turn away from that animal.
"A name and a past mean nothing to me. Mordil, I will ride."
A/N: I know that was a lot of chit-chat, four pages worth really, but I had to stop there. The next chapter has more yakity-yak in it, so be patient! More action and romance comin' up I a few chapters, I promise!
A/N: I don't really have anything to say at this point except for it's late, the Riders of Rohan are horny as hell, and I need sleep.
Time: For The Love Of Women
The next morning, every one packed up their things and Rachel once again grabbed Boromir's pack. It seemed a little bit heavier then the day before and she decided that she definitely deserved a trip to her chiropractor, but she wouldn't say a wo—
"Hey!" she yelled as Aragorn pulled the pack and shield off her shoulders. She was relieved, but pissed. He didn't think she could handle it.
"We split the weight," he told her, handing Legolas the pack and keeping the shield for himself. Rachel sat patiently, waiting for her share of the weight, but it never came.
"What am I going to carry?" she asked irritably. Gimli, who the entire time had never carried a bag, picked hers up and Boromir stood awkwardly. Rachel gawked at them.
"Nothing. You'll assist Boromir," Aragorn told her. Rachel was furious. She wasn't a school girl wanting a jock to carry her damn books. She let them know it too.
"Mattaka no baka!" she yelled at them. Basically, she called them all damned fools in Japanese. She opened the zipper on her pack roughly and, still cursing in various languages, she produced from it a holster for two fire arms, her guns, two extra clips, and her daggers. Then she also strapped on her bow and quiver. Everyone waited for her to finish.
"Tu es muy stupido y loco! Tu comprende? Hay caramba!" she yelled in Aragorn's face. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged to the others. Rachel sighed and stood sluggishly beside Boromir, offering him a hand if he needed it. They set off in the direction of a tall tower of black smoke in the plains of Rohan.
"Stop! Which are these riders? Are they friend or foe?" Aragorn pondered. Legolas and Rachel stood on a nearby rock, peering into the distance as at least one hundred horsemen galloped in their direction. Legolas jumped down to speak to Aragorn. Although the thought of Rachel was tempting, this was more pressing.
"They are the Riders of Rohan. Should we welcome them?" he asked. Aragorn looked at Gimli and the uncomfortable Boromir sitting on a rock and shook his head.
"You four hide along the road. I'll greet them," he instructed. Rachel didn't move. She was still watching the Riders approach. They were less than two miles off now.
"Rachel. What are you doing?" Boromir asked. Aragorn stood in the middle of the road and the others lay down in a ditch. Rachel still stared at the Riders.
"Rachel?" Gimli said. Legolas watched her.
"I can actually see the whites of their eyes! This is so awesome!" she yelled. Childish glee overcame her and she laughed. This was too good to be true for her. She did not have the best eye sight in the world and to be able to read a newspaper from two miles off was unreal. Also, imagine what it would do to her tracking and spying capabilities!
A hand pulled her into the ditch when the Riders were about three hundred yards off. Rachel was fascinated. You see, she had been riding horses her entire life. These were supposed to be the most beautiful horses ever in creation. Gimli and Boromir laughed. Legolas smiled ever so faintly. Rachel looked at them with innocent confusion. She honestly had no idea what was funny.
"What?!"
"The look on your face I wouldn't trade for all of Gondor!" Boromir guffawed. Rachel smirked mockingly and told them to shut up when the Riders approached.
"Riders of Rohan!" Aragorn yelled to the passing horsemen. In a sweeping circle, their leader brought them around, forming a great circle around the ranger. Aragorn stood, kingly, in the center of the commotion. Gimli and Boromir had to hold Rachel back from saying "hello" to the horses.
"We did not see you! How is it you avoided our site?" a particularly handsome man said. He had to be the leader. If Rachel remembered correctly, his name was Èomer. She decided that it was time to be serious and her "mission" face was on again. She put the hood up on her cloak. She had been really laid back in the past few days. Aragorn bowed his head and showed his cloak.
"Gifts from the Lady of the Wood. I have companions," he said, looking at us. We stood and walked into the circle. Èomer put a hand to his forehead.
"An elf, a man, a dwarf and a woman! I have no words!" he joked. Rachel remembered dwarves and elves only being a legend in Rohan. She doubted they had women fighters either. She understood they were laughing about them when Èomer's soldiers began chuckling as well. Rachel stepped forward.
"Excuse me, Èomer, son of Èomund, but we're real beings and I don't appreciate your smirking!" she yelled at him. The Riders stopped immediately and Èomer dismounted from his horse. He walked to Rachel and grabbed her chin. She gave him an icy stare.
"How did you know my name, witch?" he asked with a lethal tone.
"I'm no witch. I'm a soldier. Now get your hands off of me or so help me—"
"What would you do?" he asked, rubbing his thumb along her cheek. Something pulled Èomer off Rachel roughly. Legolas stood in front of her and the Rider laughed.
"I did not realize that she was so important! Do accept my apology, but I don't understand how a woman could be considered your companion!" he confessed, arms raised in surrender. Boromir held Rachel back as she nearly punched the Rider in the jaw. Aragorn looked at her furiously.
"I'm afraid she is temperamental, but, and do forgive me for saying this, she is a far better warrior then anyone in your troop. She knows of skills none of Middle-Earth has learned of. Do not anger her further," Aragorn pleaded. Èomer smiled and bowed pleasantly to Rachel. She nearly spat at him.
"I'm sorry, my lady. I had no idea you were a soldier!" he cried. Rachel growled.
"Do the weapons I carry mean nothing to you?!"
"Again, forgive me. Please, your names!" the Rider asked. Aragorn nodded and looked at Boromir who let Rachel go. She jerked away from him and stood, staring at Èomer, waiting for him to say one thing wrong.
"I am Gimli, son of Gloin the dwarven ruler of Moria."
"I am Legolas, son of Thranduil the elven king of Mirkwood."
"I am Boromir, son of Denethor the Steward of Gondor."
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn the king of Gondor."
The men bowed and waited for Rachel to give over her name. Gimli hit her in the ribs and she jumped, sighed, and rolled her eyes.
"I am Rachel ConawayBennison, leader of the elite Marines corps, Scorpions."
"I had no idea we had such dignified men…and lady…in our midst!" Èomer exclaimed. He bowed and many of his followers nodded their heads.
"You have no clue who I am…how do you know I'm dignified? And Gimli and Legolas are just legends to you! How do you know them?!" Rachel interrogated loudly. Èomer faltered. He wasn't quite sure, himself.
"Indeed, I have no clue what a Marine is. And, yes, dwarves and elves are just legends to me. You are a legend to me, my lady. Though, you are as much a beauty as a mystery in my mind," Èomer whispered. Legolas' ear twitched. He didn't like this, but Rachel could take care4 of herself…maybe. She got a little bit too carried away when men did the whole "I'm going to impress you with my dominance and ego" thing.
"Am I suppose to thank you?" Rachel asked sarcastically. The Riders laughed.
"I'm sorry, we have been away from home for a long while. The site of a woman is a welcome one. What, pray tell, is a Marine? Certainly not an elven or dwarven group for you are neither!"
"No, it's not. Human, actually. And I used to be such," Rachel said, smiling. She drew back her cloak and was welcomed by gasps. Èomer looked upon her with new awe. Her ears and gold-red hair shone beautifully in the afternoon light.
"A surprise, to be sure!"
"In any matter, we have a wounded friend, Boromir," Aragorn began. Èomer looked at him and nodded, but still glanced at Rachel. Legolas came to her side protectively. Nothing, especially a Rider of Rohan…especially this Èomer, was going to touch her ever again.
"You do."
"First, before more is spoken, do you serve the Dark Lord, Sauron?" Gimli asked. Èomer shook his head.
"We serve only the Mark of Rohan and he does not mingle with the Dark Lord. After our finest horses were tortured nearly to death and are now the beasts of the black, cloaked figures, we despise Mordor. We conduct no business there," Èomer said truthfully. One thing good about him.
"Friends, you are then. I have a favor to ask of you," Aragorn said, looking at Boromir.
"Anything I may do," Èomer said, bowing again. Rachel sighed and rolled her eyes. He was really getting on her nerves. The lecherous little…
"Spare us horses and let Boromir ride home with you. He needs to be healed for he was shot with an orc's bow not more than three days ago," Aragorn asked. Èomer whistled and four horses walked forward.
"Four of our men were killed, sadly, but these will be the horses you may use. Be sure that these beasts return to Rohan, for it is my skull the Mark will crush if you do not!"
Rachel helped Boromir onto a horse, making it kneel on its haunches for him. She found a particularly beautiful, black stallion to ride herself.
"My lady! I would not ride that beast if I were you!"
"And why not?"
"He is the son of Shadowfax, the Mark's stallion, and the only out of ten steeds to return from Mordor. Mordil is his name and it suits him well," Èomer smirked. Rachel returned the motion. Mordil meant the Dark One and he did have the red eyes and black coat to match those of the Ringwraiths. Still, Rachel approached him and when he reared in protest to her touch, she didn't move. Legolas watched in wonder. Even he would turn away from that animal.
"A name and a past mean nothing to me. Mordil, I will ride."
A/N: I know that was a lot of chit-chat, four pages worth really, but I had to stop there. The next chapter has more yakity-yak in it, so be patient! More action and romance comin' up I a few chapters, I promise!