A/N: Oh, this is just not fair! School is really getting to me and though I know exactly how I want this to turn out, it's been hard for me to get it onto paper... erm, Word. -:is stampeded by giant mutated dogs ridden by ten foot cockroaches:- What about the tearing limb from limb part?
OH BUT THEN YOU WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO FINISH THE STORY, THEN.
Oh, right. Makes sense I guess. gets up wearily. Oh, look! An editing feature.. plays around. Hang on! My asterix's are gone! No!
And so:
Title: A Place Of Her Own
Chapter: Developments
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Nat and Thom, brother and sister, have come to the land of Middle Earth. In their search to return back to their (well, our) world, they come across many different obstacles that threaten their relationship, and hope to return to the world where they belong.
For some reason, Gordon Parker held on, and Nat resented him for it. She wanted him to die so she could get on with her life. To be able to forget about him and be able to live with her brother without the fears of him that gripped her.
For days they would come and sit by the bed, watching the man's breath grow shallower and shallower until a racking cough came over him, which returned him to the heavy breathing. A cycle that seemed to continue forever, taunting them with death.
The room stunk of it. Death lingered like a vulture circling down onto the carcass of an animal that had wandered too far into the desert. The death that shadowed her father's face – that wasted his body so quickly. The burly man she had thought to find was so far away from the man in the bed, his cuts never healing because of his constant fits of rage. So that the blood would drip into the sheets and onto the pillow, staining them. Life slowed for the siblings. They never left each other's side and when they ventured from the room, pain and confusion was clearly etched on each face. The elves watched them and said nothing.
Each day was a struggle for Boromir, as they were due to leave any moment now. Time had passed so quickly and every time he had tried to tell Nat she hadn't heard him. The hobbits had even tried to tell Thomas but he, like his sister, heard nothing except the harsh breathing of his father, echoing his thoughts and punctuating the sentences he spoke.
They ate little and would not laugh, though their friend's tried. Nat still practised the knives and her bow and arrow, but whatever she gained in skill did not give her joy.
"A sickness of the liver," Elrond had said, "He has drunk so much alcohol in his lifetime that the past two weeks have been a slow agony. His body cannot cope without alcohol anymore and so is suffering withdrawal though, thankfully now, the cancer eating at his liver has stopped."
He would heal.
Nat had known her father had been drinking heavily for the last... oh, ten years or perhaps even longer. Liver cancer would have been just waiting to happen. Too bad it had got to him before she had.
But then, maybe it hadn't. Elrond had healed her brother's legs... perhaps he would heal this? No. He would know that it would just be a waste of energy. Gordon Parker would be dead before he could cross the room.
Nat smiled to herself darkly and continued to watch her father lie motionless under the covers. She entertained the idea of smothering him now, but she wanted him to know it was her, Nat, his daughter. She wanted to see the terror, the realisation in his face that it was her, her hate and his stupidity that would drive him from this world and into the next.
His eyelids flickered.
"Thom, get out now." Nat did not want her brother to see this.
"No, I want to stay," said Thom, not letting his eyes leave his father's face.
"Leave, Thom!"
"Thomas? Is that what they called my boy?" Gordon Parker was awake, though still quite groggy and Nat could not, would not do a thing while her brother was in the room.
"Such bad dreams... You were hurt Natalie, but you kept pushing on and then you were gone. I didn't know what to do... I wanted to... hurt you." The man's eyes widened.
Nat rolled her eyes at the rambling, bloody man in the crusty sheets.
"I'm so sorry, Nat," the cracked lips whispered, "I never meant to hurt you."
Nat lifted her eyebrow coolly at the tear-streaked face in the bed.
"You never hurt me."
"... Never meant to hurt you, Nat... it was the drink, it-it-it drove me mad! Believe me, I would never..."
"You didn't hurt me. You killed me." Gordon tried to struggle upright.
"... Never hurt you, never never. Or your brother – good kid, Thom. You were both such good kids... I was such a terrible father to you both."
Nat looked at him in horror.
"I'll try to do better, I know I can be better... I'll take you to the movies and..."
Nat lost it.
"You drowned my sister!" screamed Nat.
"Sister, you...? But... it...it was the drink... and that strange man who came to me... he..." Nat's father's voice trailed away to silence.
"Don't you dare try to make excuses! You killed her, you killed her, and you... killed... her!" Nat struck out at her father.
"Sister?" whispered Thom from the corner, he shook like a leaf as he watched his older sister fight out against his father.
"I hate you! You destroyed my life! I hate you, you bastard! I hate you!" shrieked Nat.
Thom looked between the red faces and ran out of the room.
"Now look what you've done!" roared her father.
"ME? How can you say that? How can you expect us just to... to forgive you like that, just because you practically raped my mother and Thom's..."
Gordon was silent.
"I loved your mother. And Thom's."
"Liar!" Nat spat in his face, "You grabbed whatever bitch you could find."
Gordon's arm came up with surprising speed and accuracy.
"I loved her. You will not talk about her like that." The man's eyes seemed to have a spark of inteeligence about them for a moment.
"Why? You did."
They both stared into each other's eyes. Their expressions mirrored, their eyes were both a crystal blue that cut into the other pair, their jaws set and lips turned back in a barely suppressed snarl.
Iluvion burst into the room and dragged Nat out into the corridor.
"What do you think you were doing?" he hissed angrily, "Thom's distraught and crying all over Lord Elrond's lap! Elrond's going to have fit over the way you've aggravated the patient and..."
"The patient can go to hell! I'm done with this. I need to get out," Nat whispered back to him, "I can't stay here, it's driving me mad... I could have killed him!"
Iluvion's eyebrows knotted together.
"Who?"
"That... my father."
"Your father? But he is – "
Nat gave Iluvion a look that allayed his doubts.
"Perhaps..." muttered Iluvion.
"What?"
"There is a man of the Dunedain staying with us. Elrond had arranged for you to go out on a scouting trip with him later this month, maybe he could take you earlier."
"I'm not leaving my brother."
"Yes, you are. He is in good hands here."
"I've no doubt of your hands but what about my dad's? I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him."
"You might not have been able to trust him earlier but I assure you that eye has been cast from him."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Erm... I would say the influence of the drink was to blame, as well as some strange poison has been making him act... out of sorts lately."
"Lately?"
"Then for a number of years."
"You've got that right." Nat slumped against a wall and turned to look into Iluvion's worried eyes.
"I would have killed him, Iluvion. I was just waiting to..." she lifted her shaking hands up to her face.
Iluvion took her into a swift hug, wrapping his arms around her tightly as she buried her head into his shoulder.
"You do not have a murderer in you, Nat," he told her gently, letting her tears soak into his coat.
"Yes, I do, I do... I was about to wring his neck with my bare hands when you came in. My thoughts were..."
"You do not have a murderer in you, Nat," he told her again.
Nat sobbed heavily, letting her body wrack with the grief that she had kept so tightly bottled up for the last week or more. It had slowly built up - the hate, the anger, the hopelessness... the pain.
They stood there until Nat slowly calmed down and clung to Iluvion for dear life. Iluvion rubbed her back gently as Nat sniffled and leaned against him, like she wanted to be swallowed up by the world.
"Do not feel so angry with yourself."
"He killed my sister, you know."
"I know."
"And he broke Thom's legs."
"I know."
"He nearly raped me on my birthday last year."
"I know."
Nat drew back from Iluvion who studied her carefully. His shoulder was wet and his eyes seemed raw as if he had shared in her pain. She smiled weakly.
"I really need to get out of here, Iluvion. I can't just..."
"Don't worry, I'll organise something." Iluvion led her to her room and tucked her into bed carefully.
"You sleep for a while and you can leave in the morning."
"What about Thom?"
"I'll look after Thom, don't you worry."
"Thank you," she said seriously.
Iluvion smiled and drew the curtains, letting the room be covered in darkness.
"Sleep soundly, I'll wake you when we're ready."
Boromir was waiting impatiently outside as Iluvion shut the door quietly behind him.
"What is wrong with her?"
"She is feeling a little unwell," Iluvion told Boromir curtly, "And I wish you would put your voice down a little."
"Your shoulder is wet, has she hurt herself?" asked Boromir in a now furious whisper.
"No, at least, not physically. Just shaken, I would say."
"Shaken? What do you mean?" Boromir took Iluvion's arm and tried to steer him into an alcove.
"Excuse me," Iluvion muttered, and shook off the man's hand deftly. Turning quickly, he headed away to the kitchens.
"Where are you going, elf? You didn't answer my question!" yelled Boromir, forgetting to whisper.
Boromir scowled to himself and then pushed into a run to catch up with the swift elf. If Nat had been crying – which he had to admit, was pretty improbable – then he needed to know about it.
Drawing level with Iluvion, Boromir slowed to a brisk walk but remained silent as his companion gave him a haughty stare. Iluvion pushed ahead, walking a little faster. Boromir ground his teeth and picked up the pace. By the time they were at the kitchens both were puffing and red-faced while trying to maintain dignity in front of the kitchen hands.
Iluvion gave a haughty sniff before addressing the wide-eyed crowd.
"I was wondering if you could be so kind as to prepare some meals for the next week or more for a scouting trip –"
"What scouting trip?" interjected Boromir, much refreshed after a long draught of wine given to him by one of the throng.
"None of your business," mumbled Iluvion under his breath before continuing, "perhaps a hamper for the first day and rations for the rest of the fortnight."
"You just said a week!" exclaimed Boromir as the kitchen's head chef nodded obligingly.
"Or more. Now if you would please excuse me?"
The pair comically made their way across the yard before coming to stop outside an open veranda. Each one pushed ahead to get in first, resulting in the two getting stuck between the railings before they both pushed through with a little 'Oof'.
Iluvion blessed Boromir with another death glare before turning to the bemused elf sitting at a table holding what appeared to be a large roll of cloth.
"Grelad, may I ask a favour of you?" the guard asked as the human beside it jostled to get in.
"Of course, what is it?"
"I have a friend of feminine nature who will need travelling clothes..."
There was the briefest of silences where nearly everything stood still.
"WHAT?"
Iluvion winced delicately as 200 decibels, plus 5 grams of spit that were hanging on for a ride, roared straight into his ear.
"I can have it ready by tomorrow," said the elf seated at the table, ignoring the look of righteous anger on Boromir's face for being so cheerfully ignored.
"Thank you, Grelad."
Iluvion turned and waited for Boromir to move. Moments later they were on their way back through the yard, heading for yet another unknown destination.
"So you're packing her off." The low, simmering voice did not indicate that it was a question.
"If that's how you must put it, yes I am. I'm 'packing her off' as you said, so that she can breathe some fresh air."
"What about her brother? Does she know your doing this?"
"Her brother will remain with me until she, or if she returns and yes, Nat actually asked if she could get 'packed off'."
"She did?" Boromir said incredulously.
"Her father's appearance has caused her much undue stress. It will be good for her to get away from Rivendell for a while. I fear she needs a challenge."
"You fear? If she is to be gone for more than a week, I shall not see her until I return."
"You leave so soon?"
"Yes, we are to depart on the twenty fifth."
"Only two months since the council... has the time passed so quickly? I am thinking it would be to take advantage of the summer while you still can?"
"Yes. But what of Natalie's little sojourn? Where would she go? And with whom?"
"One of the Dunedain rangers is staying here in Rivendell and has agreed to take her on a scouting trip."
"Does he know of how soon?"
"He shall."
"You tread on thin ice, friend. What of the dangers of the orcs?"
"Orcs would not travel so far and so deep into the lands of Arnor."
"Have a care, Iluvion! How deep do you propose to take her?"
Iluvion did not answer but started to ascend up some stairs into a compound that was a fair way from where Boromir was standing. Boromir once again ground his teeth and followed. He would be damned if he let his Nat go with some stranger if at all.
Ah! It's late, late, late and I have homework due tomorrow and.... Ah, stuff it. This comes first. There are a lot of short snappy sentences in this – not much description but a lot of talking. Too much, I think. But tell me what you think and maybe I might redo the chapter or something... till next time (however long that takes... I hate school, if only I was finished with it). And I need a better chapter title...