Disclaimer: Don't own them; just using them for now. I really like Boromir so that's why I'm messing with him. You always hurt the one you love.

Chapter 1: A Field Study

The sights of Rivendell fascinated Boromir that he could find no words to describe it. Gondor had its share of sights: the vast White Mountains, the rolling fields; but it could not compare to the beauty he saw. Autumn had arrived turning the leaves to a soft golden hue. A gentle wind blew slightly and released the leaves from the towering trees and they slowly floated onto the waters of the Bruinen. Looking back up, he gazed at the white peaks of the mountains in the east. The sun's rays began peeking over the mountain tops, illuminating an array of reds and yellows. It was truly a majestic sight to behold. Yet, Boromir could not enjoy nature's display fully for he was distracted by the presence of another.

That damn elf was still staring at him.

This elf, Legolas, had made Boromir the subject of his scrutiny. Ever since the council, Legolas would watch him incessantly and sometimes follow the man of Gondor. He did not understand why this elf had such an interest in him. It made him feel self-conscious in everything he did. He could no longer eat, sleep, and perform the call of nature without worrying about that elf. Above all else, he has not even said one word to Boromir in all this time! Boromir had thought about trying to attempt some kind of communication with him, but could not find the right words. He did not know anything about Elves' normal behavior and did not want to offend Legolas. Maybe this staring was just a custom of the elven race. But now after all this time of his inquisitive eyes piercing into the man, Boromir felt if he were on the brink of his last nerve.

Trying to control his anger, Boromir turned to Legolas, who was sitting in cat like manner, and sucked into his breath as the words formed into his mind. In turn, Legolas smirked and cocked his head to the side.

"WHY MUST YOU KEEP STARING AT ME?"

Legolas, not expecting this, almost fell backwards with shock written across his face. Boromir was very satisfied with this result.

"My, my. There's no need to shout," Legolas scorned. It always took more than a shouting man to unravel his usual calm nature, with Boromir now being an exception.

"There is need when you follow me everywhere like a puppy, watching my every move without saying a word," Retorted Boromir.

The smirk reappeared on the elf's face, "If it bothered you so much, why did you not say so earlier?"

Boromir's face fell slack. Could he not tell that it was bothering the man? Were Elves really that dense or was it just this particular one? "I thought it might have been a custom of your race."

"Custom? Nay, it is not. But is it custom for men to hold their frustrations and emotions in until they boil over?" inquired Legolas.

"Actually," Boromir thought, "many men are accustomed to that . . .," he shook his head in annoyance, "You are getting me off track. I asked you a question and you still have not answered it."

"True, I have not."

Boromir waited for Legolas continue but the elf was just staring at him. Again. He concluded that Elves really are dense. He attempted his question into a nicer tone, "Why have you been staring at me all this time?"

"Observing"

"Observing what?"

"You"

A groan escaped Boromir's throat, "It may be a surprise to you but I have noticed this. What is the reason behind your scrutiny?"

Legolas finally gave him a real answer, "I have seen many mortal men in my lifetime but I really never got to know anyone one of them save Aragorn, which I really don't count as a real man, seeing as he grew up in Elrond's household and is in love with fairest of all Elves. That man is practically an Elf in his own right. Anyways, men from Gondor have rarely stepped foot in Mirkwood, so I have taken this special opportunity to study the habits of men from the South."

"Ahh, I guess that would make sense to Elves," Boromir rolled his eyes, "but wouldn't it make more sense if you simply questioned me instead of studying me?"

"I thought about that but this is much more fun."

"Fun?"

"Oh, yes. I have learned quite a deal about you without conservation."

"Enlighten me."

Folding his hands atop his crossed legs, Legolas began, "First, you have a crooked walk, like one foot is heavier than the other. Your left foot goes out about a foot, while your right foot goes out about ten inches. When you're in deep thought, your right hand brushes your stubble three times before it returns to your knee or the arm of the chair. You have a brother who possesses more intelligence than you, for when you talk in your sleep, it usually contains envious words towards your sibling. You have an unusual fetish about keeping your feet clean; you scrub the insides of your boots and travel with quite a number of socks. When no one is looking at you during meals, you pick your teeth. And by the way, you still have a sliver of apple caught in your upper right tooth. No, not your right; my right. Also, the side of your mouth twitches when you are placed in uncomfortable social situations, which has been most of the time. When you think you're alone, you mutter about your problems, "Faramir leads alone . . . can't be king . . . feet dirty . . . annoying elf." And when you're infuriated a vein in the side of neck pops up and starts pulsing quickly like its doing now."

Indeed, the vein in Boromir's neck kept growing as the elf described the observations of himself. That thing had been invading his privacy the whole time and he was fed up with him. No one knew about his foot fetish except for Faramir and it was going to stay that way! Too bad he had left his sword in his quarters. Deciding that killing the elf was too extreme, he stormed passed Legolas, who continued ticking off Boromir's antics on his hand.

Legolas paused mid sentence about the man's bathing techniques, "Where are you going?"

Boromir stopped and yelled, "To find some privacy, which means, you do NOT follow me anymore!"

For some reason, Legolas looked confused at his outburst but then he smiled, "Gondor men must like that custom."

Facing defeat, Boromir trudged back to main house of the Last Homely Home. Elves have such an odd sense of humor. There was no hope of Legolas leaving him alone since it appeared that the elf enjoyed this game too much. "Unless," thought Boromir, "I play an even dirtier game with him"

Smiling evilly at his cunningness, Boromir raced to find the dwarf that was also at the council, trying to recall his name.

"That's right, it was Gimli"