"Teach me, Boromir"
Merry looked about the camp, slowly moving from one member of their strange group to the next. It was their fourth day of the trek that would lead them on the dark and dangerous road to Mordor.
First his eyes strayed to his fellow Hobbits lying in a heap of blankets off to one side. Frodo, Sam and Pippin were all in a deep sleep. One, Pippin, was softly snoring, while Sam muttered something about his Old Gaffer. Frodo was silent, but moving slightly as he always did in his sleep.
Merry smiled at seeing that, his eyes straying a little to the left to the next member of the Fellowship. Gimli, the Dwarf of the party, lay against what looked to be a very uncomfortable rock, snoring loudly enough that if any Ringwraiths were in the area, they would be scared away by the racket.
Gandalf came next, his staff held tightly in one hand as he slept, as if he was afraid someone would steal it during the day. Every now and then words of a language unknown to him escaped the slightly open mouth of the wizard.
Legolas came next and Merry quickly averted his gaze. Pippin last night had stared at the Elf and had woken him up. He could swear that the Elf was looking up at the sky as is the wont of Elves sometimes, but they had been told afterwards that Elves slept with their eyes open. His eyes drifted back to those of Legolas, seeing the glazed look in them, before moving his sight to the next person.
Aragorn, the future King of Gondor and Arnor, slept lightly yet soundly. The Ranger had been off scouting beforehand, and his watch had come before his own.
His eyes shifted to the last person in the Fellowship and the one he knew the least about. Boromir, Captain of Gondor and the son of the Steward. The Man was obviously not sleeping well, tossing and turning like as if he was stuck in bad dreams.
Not wanting to see any person of the Fellowship suffering thus, he quietly went to the Man and woke him.
"Is it time for my watch already, little one?" Boromir muttered quietly as he came awake with a start. Merry liked how the Man didn't call him young one, as the other members of the group did, barring Pippin who was younger yet.
"No. It looked to me as though you were having bad dreams. I can't have that on my watch now, can I?"
Boromir chuckled at that, a deep noise that seemed to soften the Man, instead of make him sound harsher as he was expecting. "Well, thank you for saving me from the evil clutches of strange dreams."
Merry smiled brightly. "You are welcome. May I ask what this dream was about?"
Boromir fell silent for a long minute, before speaking. "It was more a memory really. My brother had just reached the age to join training for Gondor's forces and I had been training for a few years. Faramir was delighted and was rather reckless.
"I decided that, before he was truly ready, that I should spar with him to see if he had learnt all he could from all the sword practice we had before coming of age.
"He wanted to beat me in the fight and, using some tricky moves of his own he managed to get my sword out of my hand. Unfortunately, he had too much momentum and couldn't stop the swing of his own sword. It spun him about and it embedded itself in my side.
"I was hurt terribly but not mortally, thankfully. My father had never liked Faramir around too much after that and at the first chance available, he was shipped off to Osgiliath and put on an almost permanent post there. I rarely see him anymore..."
Merry winced. "You love your brother still, regardless of what he did to you?"
"Of course I still love my brother. I love my father also, but that sometimes does nothing but cause trouble. I know that our father loves Faramir...he just doesn't seem to be able to show it any more."
Merry nodded, wondering about the strangeness of Men. "Can you teach me and Pippin?" He asked, a curious glint coming into his eyes.
Boromir was immediately on guard for some kind of mischief. "What do you mean by that, Master Merry?"
"The sword. Teach me, Boromir. It may be safer for all of us if Pip and I could use a sword a little better than just swinging them abount hoping to hit something that happens to be the enemy."
Boromir thought about this for what seemed a long time, silence stretching from minute to minute until Merry yawned widely. The Man chuckled again. "Go to sleep, Master Merry. I will tell you my answer when we begin to move again."
Merry could do nothing but nod, suddenly very tired. He wandered over to the other Hobbits, curled up under the blankets making the Hobbit group complete. He was asleep almost immediately.
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The night was almost over and a reasonable spot to camp had yet to be found. The Hobbits, unused to this much travel without long breaks in between, were almost ready to drop from exhaustion.
Boromir watched them with a smile. Through the night's march, he had decided to take Merry up on the offer to train him and his friend Pippin in the art of the sword.
Slowly, Aragorn had come back to the party with the news that he had found shelter enough for the day. The four halflings sagged with relief at that and Boromir couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.
Soon, all nine of them were comfortably sat about a small clearing in a dense brush. A few taller trees dotted the circle they were in, giving them more protection.
Off near to one of the smaller trees, Merry and Pippin were busy lighting their pipes and taking part in what seemed to be a Hobbit habit of pipeweed. Boromir might have been a Man, but he didn't partake in the habit himself.
Getting up from his own seat, near a rock, he went over to the two halflings and sat down so he didn't get smoke blown in his face.
"Merry, I have decided. I will take you up on your question. I will teach you...and Pippin too, if he so wishes to learn."
With that said, a giant grin made its way across the two faces in front of him and a chorus of "Thank you, Boromir" was heard.
With that, Boromir nodded, told them to rest throughout this day and that their training would start on the morrow. He had done something he had told himself he would never do again, and as such had found himself finally forging a friendship with some of his fellow walkers.
Since he had made his way to Rivendell and had been apponted one of the members of the Fellowship, he felt he had been the odd one out.
He had finally found his place though and knew that it wouldn't do him any good to have said no to the two halflings.
He could now class himself as a true member of the Fellowship.
A/N - Hmmm, this was supposed to be a Merry fic, but turned out to be equally Boromir's too. Hope any readers of this fic don't mind that it is not wholly Hobbit-centric.
Hope someone enjoys. R/r please.