Morwen's POV
That night I wandered the camp, unable to sleep from everything that went on in my mind. Ari of course was out like a light again, and I could tell she was in pain. I was too, but I really didn't feel like showing it. However, I was used to pain in my legs and hips from other sports, and I'd ridden horses a few times that Ari didn't know about, so I knew the best way to recover was stretching out my legs. And by walking, you not only stretch out your legs but you stretch out…well…other sore places. Saddles are uncomfortable, alright!
Although I feel pretty grateful actually. If this hurts for me, I don't even want to IMAGINE what kind of pain the original Fellowship is. Those saddles have GOT to be a major pain on the-
Eurm. Nevermind.
So after I'd walked around, I threw myself down on a rock and looked out to the stars. Apparently I'd been thinking and wandering longer than I thought, because I saw Boromir coming up to my right side. Woah, it was already time for second watch? Well shit, it had to be midnight or something…
"What are you still doing up?" Boromir asked, sitting down beside me and looking a little concerned. I shrugged. "Can't sleep. Kinda sore from the whole saddle thing," I told him nonchalantly, trying to sound as if it was easy for me to handle it. I don't think he bought it.
"Yes, saddles can be hard on those who are not accustomed to them," he said wisely, nodding and looking at my legs sympathetically. Well as long as his eyes didn't go up any farther…I squirmed uncomfortably. Please God, don't let him be THAT much of a pervert! I mean, he was nice and actually slightly handsome –everybody here looksdifferent from the waythey do in the movies- but I'm not really in the mood for a strenuous rendezvous right now. Dude, I just got whacked into Middle Earth! I'm not ready for THAT sort of stuff yet! Boromir had better not be expecting anything just because he's the Steward's son…
I nodded miserably. "Yeah, I noticed. Doesn't it hurt you?" I questioned, trying to keep the conversation on something normal. I hoped he'd catch the drift.
He shook his head. "Not so much anymore, for I've gotten used to the feeling of riding horses. But…I am sorry for the pain you are in." And he really looked it. Aww, that's sweet. He doesn't just see me as a whore to be had as a quickie! Well, I feel a little better now. But only a little.
"Thanks," I told him with a smile. "Makes me feel better that someone gives two shits and actually pays attention."
He was taken aback by my language, but nodded after he'd gotten over it and smiled reassuringly. "How could I not? You and your sister have been through much, especially for two elleths who should be able to be at their home, safe. War is the burden of men." He saw that I was getting ready to kick him in the balls for being sexist, and help up his hand for silence. "I know you wish to be here, but that doesn't mean it is a good idea. Females are not used to this sort of hardship in the way men are. And they should not have to deal with more strain than they already do."
Wow. A dude. With a brain outside of his sexual organs! THERE'S A FIRST! Boromir actually sort of got it! YAY! I could've hugged him. But of course I didn't, because that might make him think he could do other...things. Eep! "Woah Boromir…that's really…smart of you. Thanks!" I told him, grinning widely. He nodded and smiled in acknowledgment.
"It isn't any trouble, Lady Morwen," he told me.
I smacked him on the arm. "Enough with the Lady shit, I'm not anyone special. Just…Morwen, you dig?"
He considered this. "Very well, I shall call you Morwen. But…how can you say you are not anything special? You're going along with a Fellowship consisting of all men. And coping very well," he added appreciatively, looking me up and down. Although I initially felt uncomfortable under his gaze, a part of me felt a little smug. It's not like I haven't been looked at that way before, cause I have. 'Cause I am the barroom whore of the century. Ari –DAMN IT, I mean Almarea- jokes about being a slut, like me. But she hasn't actually…ahem…with lots of men. I've been ina shitload ofrelationships. And they never work out. Because just when I get slightly comfortable with a man, another ten guys are looking at me, and I find I like the looks of them right back.
In a nutshell? Long term relationships and me don't mix, because I'm a whore. Can you say sex kitten? Sheesh.
Boromir watched me as I blushed deeply. "Eurm…well…thank you," I whispered, looking to the ground. He put his hand under my chin and brought my head up. "It was nothing," he muttered to me.
For a minute I looked at him, and returned his gaze. I'd done stuff like that a million times before. But never before had I needed to deal with the knowledge that the guy in front of me would die soon. Slowly I stood up. "Goodnight Boromir," I said in a soft but firm voice. And without another word I strode away.
Damn it. A guy who's as good as dead is hitting on me! SHIT!
After Eru knows how long, I woke up to find myself in my bedroll, awake after everyone else for a change. Aragorn was kneeling beside me, looking a bit concerned.
"Wha-? Was' happenin'? Was' goin' on?" I said, my peech slurred by weariness and…oh, ouch. Was that pain in my stomach? And head? And throat? And...urgh, I did not feel good.
"Morwen? It is morning…I have been trying to wake you up for nearly ten minutes. You were mumbling in your sleep," Aragorn explained, his gray eyes dark with something akin to fear. "For a moment I did not know if you were even conscious…how do you feel?"
How did I feel? How did IFUCKING WELLfeel? "I feel like fucking shit," I choked, coughing as my sentence ended. Now looking officially alarmed, King-O put his hand to my forehead, and his eyes widened. "You are burning with fever," he muttered, looking straight at me.
Considering the fact that I was sweating, I didn't really find that to be new information. "Thank you Captain Fucking Obvious," I said, my normally rich voice cracking. I coughed again.
He took my hand in his, pressing his palms against my skin. "Where are you in pain?" He asked, and I could almost see the Healer wheels turning in his head.That's what you get when you raise a human in the House of Elrond. (Or, as I so fondly think of him, Agent Smith-rond! Heehee.)
"Everywhere," I choked to him. "My throat, my chest, and I'm kinda nauseated from the pain," I admitted. Then I winced. "And I'm getting a serious fucking headache. How'd this fucked-up-shit happen so fast?" I asked, though it was sort of a rhetorical question. Aragorn merely shrugged. "I have no idea, but…you will have to ride with me again," he informed me, as he took my hand and helped me to my feet.
I sighed, not in the mood to argue. "Can I just dunk my head in the water real quick?" I asked, hating the sound of my scratchy voice. He merely nodded, before walking off to Gandalf. I assume he was going to tell him of my condition.
I staggered off to the brook, my coordination shot to hell. Right about then, I felt like damning the Valar and Eru for being so damn mean. As if getting whacked into this fucking hellhole wasn't enough, now I have to deal with being sick. Effing great.
As I'd said, when I reached the brook I literally dunked my head into it, not bothering to take off my over-tunic or anything like that. For as long as I could, I held my head under the cool water, and enjoyed the sensation of being clean and cold. But then I brought my head up out of the water, reminding myself that Almarea wouldn't be pleased if I drowned myself. For a minute I swayed, then I got my feet planted, and made my way back towards camp.
Guys, whatever your parents tell you about getting hooked on painkillers and other drugs, they're wrong. Because right then, Aspirin or Tylenol sounded damn good. I wanted drugs, dammit! Real, solid, dependable, over-the-counter, medicated goodness!
Thinking of that, I blinked rapidly and grinned. "But no needles in the eyes," I said stupidly. "I don't like the doctors with the needles in the eyes."
Ah, good old Pillz-e the Squirrel. Remind me to go to IllWillPress,if and when they get computers in Middle Earth. 'Cause those cartoons are fucking hilarious. Profane, over-medicated squirrels are a good way to cheer you up.
As I repeated the lines of pretty much every Foamy cartoon I had ever seen, the pain in my ankle added to the pain I felt everywhere else. If I hadn't been focusing on other things, it would have over-whelmed me.
Finally, after some unknown stretch of time, I reached the camp again. Without bothering to think of or look at anyone else, I plopped down on the spot where my bedroll had been previously, and tried to put on my boots.
"Woah dude," I said aloud. I halted my movements and looked at the boots in my hand with wide eyes. I had realized that I walked around barefoot this whole time."Like…woah…I went around the place-thing without my boots on 'till now…shit…" I took one of my feet in my hands, and looked at the sole of it.
I was so focused on everything else, I hadn't noticed little splinters of wood getting imbedded in the bottom of my feet. Ouch, blood. Ouch, wounds. Ouch, infection.
"Ouch….shit," I said in that crackwhore speak. I heard a voice somewhere above my head, and when I looked blearily up I figured it was Gandalf, since I could see a long white blob -that I think was a beard- near the top of the bigger blob -which I assumed was a body- that I assumed was a human being, or something of the sort. Lots of assuming there, considering I couldn't actually see.
"Say what?" I muttered, squinting at him and trying to get my vision to clear.
Gandalf sighed and repeated his question. "Are you ready to go on?"
I swayed dangerously as I tried to stand, before Aragorn knelt and put his arm around my waist, supporting me as he hoisted me up to my feet. "Where we goin'?" I questioned. "Are we goin' back to Kansas? 'Cause I don't think we're in Kansas anymore…"
Only Almarea understood my joke, but I think she was too shit-fucking-scared out of her mind to laugh at that point.
Gandalf frowned, or at least I think he did. "What is this 'Kansas' you speak of?"
"Ahh Gandalf," I said wisely, patting him on the shoulder. "I can't describe, it, 'cause there's no place like home. Waaaait…who's got my ruby red slippers?"
Have I mentioned I watched Wizard of Oz a lot when I was a kid? Found the flying monkeys especially amusing.
Gandalf took my chin in his hand and studied me. "You are not well," he said quietly, the same sort of fear I had seen in Aragorn's eyes sparking up in his.
"No shit, Sherlock," I muttered under my breath, swaying despite Aragorn's hold on my waist. I gave another cough, turning my head away from his so I wouldn't get him all germ-y and gross and sick. Because trust me, I didn't want the smartest, most experienced and powerful person in the Fellowship getting sick with some killer illness. An illness that turns you into a delusional -but really quite chipper- crackwhore.
I then heard Aragorn speak. "She must ride with me today. If she goes on her own, surely she will die."
Completely gone by that point, I murmured in an almost inaudible voice, "Avoiding the death is good, death is good to avoid…" More Pillz-E quoting, if you hadn't noticed.
The rest of the day is blank, as I pretty much lost my vision to whatever fucked-up illness I'd been given.
Isn't Middle Earth lovely?
Yeah…I thought not.