A/N: This is a slightly serious chapter towards the end. Hey, life isn't just a bowl of chuckles, chortles, and laughs.
Chapter Seven
Boromir staggered to his feet, looking around wildly. He was in a low ceilinged room encased with white stone. The floor he stood weakly on was a dark blue pattern, and not hard like stone. There were tables everywhere, and young women and a few young men sat at them, working hard at whatever they were doing. "Can I help you?" Asked a voice. Boromir whirled around, and faced an portly, aged woman looking curiously at him.
"Where's Anganwen?" Boromir demanded, moving to unsheath his sword. But then he found nothing at his belt, and an even odder situation struck him.
He wasn't wearing his old clothes. Instead he was wearing stiff black pants and a dark blue shirt with a bothersome collar. His sword was missing, as was, to his horror, the Horn of Gondor.
"Where am I?" He demanded loudly. Most of the young women looked up from their work, and watched interestedly.
"In jewelry craftmanship." The old woman replied simply, "Are you new to this university?"
Boromir stared at her.
"Did you ask for Anganwen?" Inquired a woman, standing up shyly. Whirling on his heel, Boromir strode over to her, and nodded sharply.
"You're talking about Kelsey. Anganwen was her nickname; she created it herself from using her copy of the Silmarillion because she only liked working with iron and pewter when making jewelry. She disappeared a few months ago, have you seen her?" The girl inquired, looking imploringly at him. Boromir gave another curt nod, and the girl gasped.
"Is she alright?"
"Not when I find her." Boromir growled.
Hey, do you know Sean Bean?" One girl called out.
"No." He snapped, "Where is your collection of books and scrolls?"
The old woman furrowed her eyebrows, "The LMC, you mean? Just down the hall and up the stairs. But who are you?"
"Boromir, son of Denethor, steward of Gondor." He barked, and hurried out.
He scurried down the hall until he came a flight of stairs. He went up, but didn't know how far to go. As a young man was passing down, he caught his elbow.
"Where is the Elemsy?" He demanded. The boy cocked his head at him, "The what?"
"The Elemsy."
Dawning struck the boy's face, "Oh, you mean the library media center? Go to the next floor and to your right, you can't miss it."
Forgetting to thank the boy, Boromiw jumped the remaining steps two at a time until he reach the next landing. Turning right, he stood at a wood door.Yanking the door open, he entered.
The room was enormous, with bookshelf upon bookshelf. He looked on in helplessness, not knowing where to start. He seized a random book, and flipped it open.
Dismay settled in. He couldn't read it.
He looked down at his left hand. The pewter ring was still on his smallest finger. With great anger, he wrenched it off, with every intention of hurling it at the closest person, but then the Elemsy, Library Media Center, or whatever it was called, began to spin, and he was cast into darkness.
.
Everything was dark. Boromir looked up at saw a circle of light above him. He was in water up to his chest.
"Hello!" He called. A silhouette blocked part of the circle, "Boromir! Is that you?" Cried a familiar voice.
"Curse you Anganwen, now help me up!" He shouted back. A rope fell down by him, and he grabbed it, and heaved himself up out of the well.
Anganwen stood a little ways off, wringing her hands. At seeing him, however, she flung herself onto him into a hug.
Boromir shrugged her off, and held her at an arms' length.
"You're just another one of them." He spat accusingly. She shook her head vigorously, "No, I'm not- I swear. I'm not crazy about the fellowship, or any of you, really. In fact, I never even liked the whole Lord of the Rings."
"Then why did you come?" Boromir barked, dropping his arms, and kneeling in the grass. Anganwen knelt too, "Because I loved the concept of Middle Earth. I wanted desperately to live here. One day in jewelry craftmanship, I made a ring- that ring- and when I tried it on, it transported me here."
"You don't belong in this world." Boromir snapped. Anganwen's face fell, "I know I don't, but I'm causing no one any harm, and I love this world more than anything else."
"There was a woman- she was concerned for you."
"Amy..." Anganwen sighed, "I do miss her."
"You must return." Boromir said resolutely. "You don't understand!" Anganwen pleaded hopelessly.
Climbing to his feet, Boromir pulled her up, and pressed the ring into her palm, "I don't understand everything, but I do know that this world was not made for you, and that you were created to live on that other earth, no matter how strange it may be. I leave you now- I care not of your fate."
Without another word, he went into the house, hefted his things on his shoulder, emerged into the sunlight, and glanced at Anganwen, who was still looking forlornly at the ring.
He spotted the now-finished cage. Dropping a few coins on her anvil, he gripped the cage, and continued on his journey.
-------------------------------------------
Hobbit-eyes: Boromir sucked into Troy...Now there's a fanfic crossover just begging to be written....
Elven-Star-of-Gold: Pardon? What about the bucket? I'm confused.
Chapter Seven
Boromir staggered to his feet, looking around wildly. He was in a low ceilinged room encased with white stone. The floor he stood weakly on was a dark blue pattern, and not hard like stone. There were tables everywhere, and young women and a few young men sat at them, working hard at whatever they were doing. "Can I help you?" Asked a voice. Boromir whirled around, and faced an portly, aged woman looking curiously at him.
"Where's Anganwen?" Boromir demanded, moving to unsheath his sword. But then he found nothing at his belt, and an even odder situation struck him.
He wasn't wearing his old clothes. Instead he was wearing stiff black pants and a dark blue shirt with a bothersome collar. His sword was missing, as was, to his horror, the Horn of Gondor.
"Where am I?" He demanded loudly. Most of the young women looked up from their work, and watched interestedly.
"In jewelry craftmanship." The old woman replied simply, "Are you new to this university?"
Boromir stared at her.
"Did you ask for Anganwen?" Inquired a woman, standing up shyly. Whirling on his heel, Boromir strode over to her, and nodded sharply.
"You're talking about Kelsey. Anganwen was her nickname; she created it herself from using her copy of the Silmarillion because she only liked working with iron and pewter when making jewelry. She disappeared a few months ago, have you seen her?" The girl inquired, looking imploringly at him. Boromir gave another curt nod, and the girl gasped.
"Is she alright?"
"Not when I find her." Boromir growled.
Hey, do you know Sean Bean?" One girl called out.
"No." He snapped, "Where is your collection of books and scrolls?"
The old woman furrowed her eyebrows, "The LMC, you mean? Just down the hall and up the stairs. But who are you?"
"Boromir, son of Denethor, steward of Gondor." He barked, and hurried out.
He scurried down the hall until he came a flight of stairs. He went up, but didn't know how far to go. As a young man was passing down, he caught his elbow.
"Where is the Elemsy?" He demanded. The boy cocked his head at him, "The what?"
"The Elemsy."
Dawning struck the boy's face, "Oh, you mean the library media center? Go to the next floor and to your right, you can't miss it."
Forgetting to thank the boy, Boromiw jumped the remaining steps two at a time until he reach the next landing. Turning right, he stood at a wood door.Yanking the door open, he entered.
The room was enormous, with bookshelf upon bookshelf. He looked on in helplessness, not knowing where to start. He seized a random book, and flipped it open.
Dismay settled in. He couldn't read it.
He looked down at his left hand. The pewter ring was still on his smallest finger. With great anger, he wrenched it off, with every intention of hurling it at the closest person, but then the Elemsy, Library Media Center, or whatever it was called, began to spin, and he was cast into darkness.
.
Everything was dark. Boromir looked up at saw a circle of light above him. He was in water up to his chest.
"Hello!" He called. A silhouette blocked part of the circle, "Boromir! Is that you?" Cried a familiar voice.
"Curse you Anganwen, now help me up!" He shouted back. A rope fell down by him, and he grabbed it, and heaved himself up out of the well.
Anganwen stood a little ways off, wringing her hands. At seeing him, however, she flung herself onto him into a hug.
Boromir shrugged her off, and held her at an arms' length.
"You're just another one of them." He spat accusingly. She shook her head vigorously, "No, I'm not- I swear. I'm not crazy about the fellowship, or any of you, really. In fact, I never even liked the whole Lord of the Rings."
"Then why did you come?" Boromir barked, dropping his arms, and kneeling in the grass. Anganwen knelt too, "Because I loved the concept of Middle Earth. I wanted desperately to live here. One day in jewelry craftmanship, I made a ring- that ring- and when I tried it on, it transported me here."
"You don't belong in this world." Boromir snapped. Anganwen's face fell, "I know I don't, but I'm causing no one any harm, and I love this world more than anything else."
"There was a woman- she was concerned for you."
"Amy..." Anganwen sighed, "I do miss her."
"You must return." Boromir said resolutely. "You don't understand!" Anganwen pleaded hopelessly.
Climbing to his feet, Boromir pulled her up, and pressed the ring into her palm, "I don't understand everything, but I do know that this world was not made for you, and that you were created to live on that other earth, no matter how strange it may be. I leave you now- I care not of your fate."
Without another word, he went into the house, hefted his things on his shoulder, emerged into the sunlight, and glanced at Anganwen, who was still looking forlornly at the ring.
He spotted the now-finished cage. Dropping a few coins on her anvil, he gripped the cage, and continued on his journey.
-------------------------------------------
Hobbit-eyes: Boromir sucked into Troy...Now there's a fanfic crossover just begging to be written....
Elven-Star-of-Gold: Pardon? What about the bucket? I'm confused.