A/N: we FINALLY decided to finish this and spent many hours in chem writing. Best chem lessons ever!
Boromir peered around the dusty hallway. It was an ornate, very old entrance hall, and it had the air of being unused for a very long time.
"Faramir?" he whispered. Far off in the distance, he heard whispers, swirling around far off halls. None of them sounded particularly friendly; certainly none of them were Faramir. Oh damn!
"Damn, damn, damn!" said Boromir, finding that he quite liked that word. Father had used it sometimes.
"Come on, Faramir, this is not funny." Boromir tried to put on a brave, scolding voice, but this place really creeped him out.
"Come on, Faramir!" someone mocked back. Boromir began to shake – he was cold, not scared at all – and he shouted,
"Who are you?"
"Who are you?" Again, the mocking voice.
Boromir stomped his foot.
"Stop that!"
"Stop that!" It was that voice again! Boromir was frustrated. Didn't anyone ever teach this person any manners? It was not nice to mock others!
"You're being really rude," Boromir tried to scold.
"Oh, am I? Well I'm sorry…"
"Well you should be. My father is the Steward of Gondor! So you have to be nice!"
"Oh, the Steward's son?"
Boromir felt someone – something – behind him. He turned.
"Won't that make a nice present for my master?"
Boromir gasped at the figure that stood in front of him. Involuntarily, he stepped backwards as he took in the matted hair, the hollow eyes and the wide, evil smile. An orc. Probably.
"Your…your m-master?" Boromir stammered.
"Yes!" cried the orc, leaping at him and drawing his sword in on smooth motion. Boromir ducked instinctively. The orc swung again, catching Boromir on his shoulder. He yelped as the blade drew blood.
When he looked up again, the orc was baring its horrible teeth again. Boromir forgot about finding his brother, forgot about the pain in his shoulder, and ran for his life. Sadly, he'd spent too much time in Gondor's kitchens, eating those sweet, sweet cupcakes, and the orc quickly caught up to him.