Disclaimer: Not mine, more's the pity. I would have been nicer to poor Boromir. Hawk is mine, though, as are all the originals that are mentioned here and I'd like to be asked before you use them. Everything you recognize belongs to the estate of Professor Tolkien. He created them, and bless him for the fine story he crafted with them.

Author's note: This story is set in an Alternate Universe. That means some of the things you might expect from canon (i.e. the books and the movies) will not be the same. You have been warned! In this universe, Boromir *did not* die at Amon Hen. Evendim, who created this wonderful happy place with a live Boromir, is letting me use her universe for this tale. I asked, she said yes. If you want more backstory, read her fics, Behind Closed Doors, Beyond Closed Doors, and Beyond the Third Age. Read them even if you don't want backstory, they're excellent!

Dedications: To Evendim, without whom this story would never have been begun, and to my darling AJ who gave me the courage to post it. Bless you both.

Thirteen

Arthond twisted quickly, his blade screeching along Boromir's as he freed it and ducked backward all in one swift motion. "Then I choose to do the killing," he snarled as he pressed the advantage. He had Boromir off-balance, but he knew that wasn't enough. The man still had the extra blade, and as far as the crew went, no one was going to interfere. It was fair enough.

He struck blow after blow with his heavy cutlass, pushing Boromir further and further toward the rail. Then Boromir hit the rail and everything shifted once more.

Boromir came away from the rail with a lunge, followed up quickly by a jab with the dagger. He was satisfied to hear a grunt of pain from his opponent, but in the next instant, Arthond had hold of the right hand, the dagger hand, and was inexorably forcing the blade back on Boromir! The cutlass sang in a heavy descending arc, the blade catching the hilts of Astalder and knocking the sword from Boromir's hand.

Boromir immediately added his left hand's strength to the fight, trying to keep the dagger from his throat, but Arthond had the advantage of height and the strength of two whole arms. Boromir felt himself being pressed against the deck, while Arthond held him with one hand gripping his throat, and the other pressing the dagger's point against his flesh. "Now, I believe we were discussing your surrender," he snarled.

Boromir quickly weighed his options. He could die, or he could survive and fight another day. Or, he could simply kick the snot out of this pirate and still take his ship. His eyes flashed furiously and Arthond leaned a bit closer.

"Think about your words, Boromir, for I have no mercy," he whispered to the fallen warrior. "It is not only your life I hold in my hands. Do you yield?"

Boromir simply glared at him. Who else could he be holding the strings on? Realization struck him like a heavy blow.

"Yes, I see you realize whom I speak of. I will be taking this ship to Cair Andros, as planned. Yield to me, Boromir, or I will make certain that Faramir also tastes the edge of my blade."

Boromir bucked underneath Arthond and won a quick slash across his cheek for his trouble. "The next one slits your throat. Decide!"

If he was alive, he could protect Fari. That was the only thought he could catch, everything was whirling so quickly in his mind. He let himself relax and felt the cold touch of defeat. "I yield, Captain," he managed to choke out.

Arthond drew back and even offered Boromir a hand to help him rise. "This ship is mine, won by right of arms!" he cried. "First mate, take her below and lock her up! Boromir, are you going to give me any trouble?" He held out Boromir's weapons toward him. "I will allow these to you if you give me your word you will serve as crew with no treachery."

"Treachery is second nature to you, Arthond," Boromir snarled back. "You won this contest by treachery, and sank the Fortune the same way. You disobeyed your captain's orders. If you were one of mine, I'd have you hanged." He glared at the pirate hatefully. "I will never serve a traitor such as you. You have no honor. Even the Hawk has more honor than you, and she's a woman!"

"You've made your choice, then." Arthond's face grew taut with fury. "Bring Hawk back up. These two can take their chances with the sea."

Boromir and a very angry Sea Hawk were herded into one of the small boats and their weapons were loaded as well. "You're free to go. There's no sextant, very little fresh water, no food. Take your chances with the sea, for as you know, she is a harsh mistress." Arthond laughed heartily.

The boat was lowered into the swells and Aergil began to pull away. Hawk cursed, long and imaginatively, until she was lost to sight. Boromir simply regarded her with one upswept eyebrow. "Does that help?" he asked mildly.

Hawk rounded on him and delivered a devastating punch to his already twice wounded cheek and he caught the cry of pain behind his teeth. He snarled and pulled her close to him, settling her over his lap, and brought his hand down swiftly across her seat. "I told you that you were a brat in need of a spanking!" he roared.

Hawk shrieked in fury and bit his leg, scrambling free as he clutched the thigh, his eyes murderous. He reached for her, drew her in close, and pinned her against him with his good arm, taking care to watch her flailing legs. "If you don't settle down, I'll give you more than just a spanking," he hissed through clenched teeth. She promptly sank her teeth into his shoulder and dodged back, putting the center seat of the little craft between them.

"I'll beat you to a bloody pulp if you do that again!" Boromir roared as he lunged forward again. Hawk scrambled backward and sat down hard as the aft seat hit her in the knees, and Boromir dropped down on her, using his greater weight to hold her still. But before he could speak, the feel of a blade against his throat stopped him cold.

"If you don't get off me and behave like you might be an adult, I'll skewer you and throw you overboard," Hawk spat angrily.

"You can't kill me, not in cold blood," Boromir seethed. "It's not in you." It was a gamble, one he'd die for if he was wrong, but he trusted his gut. She simply didn't have murder in her soul.

He waited, expecting to feel the slice of the sharpened steel against his skin, and was startled to hear what sounded suspiciously like a sob from the Hawk. He immediately glanced down at her face and saw it wet with tears.

He moved back, slowly, allowing her the choice of whether to rise or stay where she was. She took it and dragged herself onto the seat between them. "How could you be certain?" she asked him in a tiny, defeated voice.

Boromir watched her thoughtfully, absently rubbing his abused cheek. "I'm a commander. I stake my life on my judgments of people. And you don't have that hard streak most soldiers do, that stick at nothing to survive will. It's why you finally lost your ship, and why you couldn't give the orders when you needed to when we fled from the slavers." He didn't move toward her, nor away, simply remained where he was on the bench and watched her closely.

Hawk nodded. "Arthond was always the one to do the dirty work. I fought the duels, yes, but those were necessity. The Captain couldn't lose face, or so he told me." "I would have spared their lives, even then, but he'd convinced me that would make me less fearsome, and Eru have mercy, he was right." Her tears continued to fall, unheeded. "Then, when we took the Fortune, everything went wrong. I should have known better than to trust him. But I did, and that's the end of it. But I won't run from this, I can't. I have to start taking responsibility somewhere. The blood of the Fortune's crew is on my hands, as surely as if I'd ordered their deaths."

Boromir nodded. "We'll start by finding our way to Cair Andros as fast as we can," he suggested. "You can help me set things right by first stopping Arthond before he can harm anyone else."

TBC...