A/N - Hello! To those of you who have already read 26, we decided to split the chapter in half. After discussing it with people, we decided it would be more beneficial to us and easier on you to split it. It was way too long, and we apologize - so this is the second half of the original 26. To those of you who have not read the long 26, forget everything we've just told you. Read on and review!
You'll say you'll understand, but you don't understand
You'll say you'd never give up seeing eye to eye
But never is a promise, and you can't afford to lie.
You'll never touch - these things that I hold
You'll never feel the heat of this soul
My fever burns me deeper than I've ever shown to you
You'll say, don't fear your dreams, it's easier than it seems
You'll say you'd never let me fall from hopes so high
But never is a promise, and you can't afford to lie . . . - 'Never Is A Promise' by Fiona Apple
Chapter 27
The three boats traveled for another four hours down the river. Merry continued to sleep - no longer unconscious, much to everyone's relief, so they let him rest off his ordeal. The wind continued to blow cold through the trees, much to the annoyance of Legolas and Nevada. Legolas bore the cold wind across his wet clothes and skin quietly, keeping his gaze on the shores around them, and Nevada curled up in the boat as best she could. The ache in her knee throbbed painfully for the first two hours, and was starting to ease as the sun began to set. She wrapped her cold fingers around her knee, and tried not to move so the wet clothes clinging to her skin wouldn't be jostled.
Aragorn kept true to his word, to their relief, and as the last rays of the sun began to fade on the horizon, he called to everyone that they would be stopping for the night on the west shore. It seemed to pose less of a threat than the east for the moment, for they were always on the lookout for movement of the enemy, and the enemy was quiet. They traveled for another ten minutes before Aragorn found a clearing that was satisfactory, and motioned for everyone to head for shore.
"I'm not getting back in the water," was Nevada's first response to the order. "Gimli, you can do it."
"He's too short," Legolas said, almost regretfully. He sincerely did not want to go in, either.
Gimli sputtered at the Elf's offhanded comment, and let the paddle drop on the side of the boat with a clank. "Now listen here, Elf! I am just as capable as the likes of you to beach this boat. You just keep your drowned rat self in here while I show you how it's done!"
Legolas blinked, then stared at Gimli as Nevada choked back a laugh. "Excuse me?"
Nev fought against laughing to keep her composure, but the thoroughly insulted look on Legolas's face made her lose and laugh anyway. "It's okay, Legolas," she finally got out, "I wouldn't be insulted if I were you, coming from a creature that rather resembles a curious red puff ball wearing armor."
Nevada gasped in shock when Gimli decided to jump from the boat at that moment, and water splashed over her legs and front. The Dwarf began to pull their boat the rest of the way to shore, as close as he could get without them worrying it would float away.
Legolas raised an eyebrow in amusement at Nev as she ranted, "You are damn lucky I am too tired to tackle you, Gimli, because if I decided you were worth beating down now, you'd be floating down the river carrying your limbs with you!"
"Big words from someone who can hardly keep her head up from the exhaustion," Gimli remarked in a disgruntled tone as he finished the job and began sloshing back towards the boat for the packs. Legolas began to grab as many as he could before stepping out of the boat and onto blessed dry land.
Nevada glared at the Dwarf as she still sat in the boat, until she realized that they were truly on shore now. All animosities fled as relief filled her, and she scrambled from the boat at an awkward crawl. She pulled herself from it, and flopped quite ungracefully on the sand and grass. She gave a grateful sigh at the feel of the sand against her cheek, and contented herself for a few moments to lay on the shore, her fingers curled in the grass and mentally thanking the Valar to be away from the water for one night.
Boromir carefully lifted Merry out of the boat, keeping the wet form clasped to him, and Pippin hovered around him as they both stepped out of the boat.
"What should I do for him, Boromir?" Pippin asked worriedly.
Boromir paused. "Get the rest of the packs out of the boat, Pippin. One of them should have a few dry tunics in it. We need to get him out of these wet clothes." Pippin nodded and ran back to the boat, retrieving as many as he could back.
The Man carried the Hobbit's limp form over to Aragorn, who was making a pit for the fire. Aragorn looked up, an unreadable expression on his face. "Frodo," he called to the Hobbit carrying the last pack to their temporary home, "grab a few blankets and spread them on the ground here for Merry."
Frodo nodded and dropped his pack. He quickly went to the other supply packs, and searched through them until he found one rough blanket and one soft blanket. He hurried over and laid down the rough blanket first, then spread the softer one over it so Merry wouldn't be itching when he woke up. Boromir laid him down on that, then sat next to the limp Hobbit along with Frodo.
"Should we get him some dry clothes?" Frodo asked, his concerned blue eyes sweeping over Merry's pallor skin and clinging tunic.
"I've got them, right here!" Pippin said as he scurried over to where his cousin lay. He held a large red tunic and brown leggings that obviously belonged to Boromir.
The three spent the next few minutes struggling to get Merry out of his wet clothes and into the dry ones, tugging at stubborn material and trying not to wake him. Sam came in to help halfway through it, and between him and the rest, they were able to get off his leggings, shirt, tunic, and cloak off. It all lay in a wet, sagging heap on a corner of the blanket at the end. Boromir quickly dressed Merry in the dry tunic and leggings, which swamped Merry's little form.
"They're much too large for him," Pippin commented.
Boromir shook his head. "'Tis a good thing, Pippin. It'll give him added warmth and more freedom to move around when he wakes. I suppose we'll just leave him here to rest and warm up by the fire when it's started, until he wakes up."
"He will wake up, won't he?" Pippin asked, his forehead lined with worry. Frodo and Sam looked up at Boromir as well, three hopeful and upset faces staring up at him. He again felt guilt gnaw at him for not being more careful in the rapids. Merry's still form was a constant reminder of that, and he desperately wanted to make it right. He wanted to erase the worry from those faces.
"He will most assuredly wake up," he told them. He felt marginally better when Pippin and Sam looked relieved, and Frodo smiled. They insisted to stay with Merry until he awoke, so Boromir left them and turned towards Aragorn, who was by the pit.
Before Boromir could say anything, Aragorn said quietly, "Boromir, I need more wood to start this fire."
The other Man stiffened at the ranger's tone. He watched the other's back with narrowed eyes for a moment, then stalked off. He may be the unspoken leader of their Fellowship now that Gandalf was dead, but who was he to use that tone with him? He would not be ordered about by a ranger from the North, one who clearly blamed him for Merry's accident. It was enough that Boromir blamed himself for not being more careful, but to be looked down on by the other Man was too much. It was a mistake anyone could have made.
Boromir stewed about this silently, his discontentment and righteous anger building up as he retrieved more wood for their fire.
Legolas nearly stepped on the dark form lying in the sand in front of him. Looking down from the pack he was holding, he sighed. Nevada. He knew she was happy to be on shore, and he felt the same way, but he was going to express it in a different way than Nevada felt inclined to. He stepped over her to retrieve the rest if the packs, anxious to get out of his own wet clothes, and called back to her, "Aragorn's starting a fire, if you're interested."
Nevada's head shot up, and it didn't take her long to be up and following the Elf in the direction of the ranger kneeling down in front of a pit he made. She was surprised to feel how stiff her knee had gotten from the swim, and practically had to hobble over to him. It didn't want to work right.
She spotted Sam, Frodo and Pippin surrounding a blanket, and knew Merry was in the middle. Briefly, she took a detour from Aragorn and knelt down between Pippin and Frodo, grimacing at the protest in her knee and the wet clothes sticking to her skin.
"He looks warm," she commented, pleasantly surprised to find the pale Hobbit wrapped up comfortably in a large red tunic that stretched all the way down to his ankles.
"He is. His skin's warming," Frodo said, smiling over at Nevada. Pippin was idly patting the dark blonde curls on Merry's head as he watched his face for signs of waking up, and Sam was fussing over what they were going to feed him when he woke. Nevada smiled a little at the sight they made, feeling that Merry was very lucky. She knew she would feel fortunate to wake up to such a sight.
Frodo watched Nevada, her hair still wet and clothes still dark from the soaking water, and once again felt admiration for this Faerie. He'd only met two Faeries in his entire life, and they were two of the bravest women he'd ever met. He found himself counting on Nevada to be there, and hoping she would never have to leave like Liana did. "Maybe you should get on some dry clothes," Frodo said softly, catching Nevada's attention. "It wouldn't do to stay wet all night. I wouldn't want you to catch a cold because of it."
Nevada smiled at the Ringbearer. "No, I guess it wouldn't." She resisted the urge to reach out and rustle his hair just for being adorable, and instead stood up slowly. She turned around just in time to see Boromir come striding back in the camp carrying wood. He set it down for Aragorn, who took it wordlessly and laid them in the pit. Nevada frowned at the tension laying thick between the two, and decided she was too tired and wet to give it much thought at the moment.
She knelt down again, next to Aragorn this time, who looked over to her in mild surprise. "Nevada," he nodded, before turning back to his task. "How are you feeling?"
She tilted her head. "Cold and wet, thanks. But it's really not a question you should be asking me. I'm fine. It's Merry who'll wake up with the chills. Let's hope he doesn't catch a fever."
Aragorn shook his head. "He won't. I'll prepare him a tea that will stave that off."
Nevada raised an eyebrow. "You didn't strike me as a healer."
The ranger gave a funny smile that turned genuine when the fire caught and the flames began licking the wood. "I was raised by healers."
The Faerie nodded in understanding, then was overcome with a peculiar thought. She really didn't know all that much about this Man, did she? She had little knowledge of his past, save that he was a Ranger for many years and used to be in Gondor's service. Other than that, his past was a mystery to her. Unsettled by this lack of knowledge, and even more unsettled by the fact that she sincerely wanted to know, she cleared her throat.
"Do you need help with anything?"
Aragorn watched her for a moment, then said, "Nothing for now, Nevada. Why don't you and Legolas dry off now? That was a valiant thing you both did, and we're all very grateful." He looked her in the eye as he spoke, and Nevada responded by standing up.
"It was nothing, and I think I will dry off." She hesitated, however, when she realized that she had no other clothes to change into. Wincing, she asked, "You, uh . . . you don't happen to have an extra tunic with you, do you?"
Aragorn shook his head. "No, I'm sorry."
Damn. "Does . . . Boromir?"
"I think he gave his extra to Merry."
Shit! "Does . . . anyone?"
Understanding the predicament Nevada was in, Aragorn shook his head. "No, but your cloak is dry. We also have an extra thick blanket you can use until your clothing dries."
Nevada grimaced. The thought of wrapping herself in only a blanket and cloak around these people made her uneasy. Her only other choice, though, was to stay in the wet clothes, and she really, really didn't want to do that. Sighing painfully, she nodded. "I guess I'll use that."
She went to find her cloak, and Aragorn fished around for a blanket for her. It was a large, thick gray blanket, and Nevada snatched it quickly, afraid her cheeks were growing warm. She would have to find a place far away from here to do this.
"Legolas!" Aragorn called over to the Elf, who was unloading materials for dinner and handing it to Sam. He looked up. "Go with Nevada so you can both change. I don't want either of you caught alone if there are unfriendly visitors."
Nevada looked at the Man with horror. "I can go by myself!"
"We're not taking that risk, Nevada."
"I'm willing to take that risk!"
"No. Neither of you are going alone."
"I'll bring a weapon, I'll be fine!"
"You'll both bring a weapon."
Nevada opened her mouth to shout it wasn't fair, but closed it when she knew she risked sounding like a five year old Human child. Aragorn gave her a look that said he wasn't going to budge, and she gave him the dirtiest look she could conjure. She knew Legolas would only be concentrating on changing himself, and he was chivalrous enough to look away - not to mention he was madly in love with someone else, but it was still hard to swallow that she couldn't change alone.
Legolas strode up, looking all business to get out of his wet clothes and into the dry leggings and extra cloak he was carrying, since his undershirt was wet, too, and carrying a tree branch that served as a bright torch. He paused when Nevada just stood there. "Grab your weapon, and let's go," he told her patiently.
She breathed out through her nose and walked over to retrieve one of her daggers. She muttered, "Let's just get this over with," to him as they walked quickly away from the campsite and into the dark of the forest. They immediately noticed how much colder it became once they were away from the fire, and Nevada shivered against it and moved closer to the torch Legolas was carrying. The warmth of it bathed the side of her face, and was hopefully helping her hair dry, too.
The light from the torch cast eerie shadows against the tall trees, its glow flickering against leaves, tree branches and bushes. Both kept their ears open for any unnatural sounds besides that of the nocturnal owls and crickets.
"I think here's all right," Nevada said, unwilling to go any farther since they would have to walk it back.
Legolas nodded, and let her go first. He held the torch a little closer so she could see what she was doing, and she set the blanket down for a moment to have a hand free. Legolas looked politely away as Nevada hurriedly changed, throwing the damp clothing on the ground and quickly tying the cloak around her. Once that was on, she wrapped the blanket completely around her and tied it in a knot on one shoulder so everything was covered. The blanket felt incredibly warmer than her cold clothes and made her sigh in relief. It was hard to feel uneasy around the Elf, since he didn't make it a big deal.
When she was finished, she took the torch and Legolas quickly changed. She averted her eyes for him, and he pulled off the wet clothes and pulled on the dry leggings. The cloak would serve as a shirt until his undershirt was dry. They were finished in record time, and began the journey back with their damp clothes underarm as quickly as possible.
When they arrived back at camp, Sam was preparing dinner; Frodo and Pippin were sitting near Merry, Gimli was smoking a pipe next to the fire, and Aragorn and Boromir were sitting opposite of each other across the fire.
"Something's brewing between those two," Legolas murmured.
Nevada nodded. "A lot of tension. Do you think Aragorn's going to yell at Boromir for earlier?"
"I don't know if it will come to that, but they will argue," he replied, keeping his eyes fixed on their stiff forms. "It was an accident, but one that could have been avoided."
They stopped speaking of it when they arrived at the campfire, and both laid out their clothing near the fire to dry it off overnight. Nevada made herself comfortable on the ground, sitting between Merry on his blanket and Aragorn to her far left. She huddled in her blanket and cloak, now completely warm and content as a kitten for the first time since they left Lothlorien. Legolas looked much happier in dry clothing, as well, and took his position on the other side of Merry.
The smell of food cooking wafted from the other side of the fire to everyone, and Pippin looked down at Merry, hoping the smell would wake him up and he could see his cousin open his eyes. "Sam's cooking, Merry," he whispered to him as he repositioned his head and covered him up a bit more. "Sausage and vegetables. There's carrots and celery in there, Merry. I wouldn't want you to miss it." He looked on, disappointed, as the Hobbit's face showed no response, and he slept on.
Frodo put a hand on Pippin's shoulder and smiled reassuringly. "He'll wake up, Pippin. Just give him time."
Dinner was served ten minutes later, which tasted divine after the trying ordeal a few hours earlier. They ate in silence for the first few minutes, until Pippin broke it.
"So where are we going now?"
"Yes," Frodo said, looking up from his dinner. "How far south are we? I always imagined that as one goes south, it gets warmer, but it is still quite cold."
Aragorn and Boromir cast each other a glance before the former turned to the two Hobbits. "We're not as far south yet as you think. It's still winter here, and we're far from the sea. The Anduin will eventually run to the Bay of Belfalas, and there it is very warm, but right now - in that direction," he pointed southwest,"we're near the Riddermark."
"Where?" Pippin and Sam asked simultaneously.
"Rohan," Boromir muttered. "Land of the Horse-lords."
Aragorn nodded. "Soon we'll travel to the mouth of the Limlight that runs out of Fangorn to join the Anduin. That's where the northern boundary of Rohan lies. From there, we will eventually reach Emyn Muil." It was unspoken of where they would go after that, for all knew it.
"I do not see why we cannot follow the river any further than that," Boromir suddenly stated. "Once we reach Emyn Muil, we can make it easy on ourselves and strike out south and west."
"If we were going to Minas Tirith, yes," Aragorn said slowly; dangerously. "But that has not been decided." The two stared at each other for a long moment, making everyone else uneasy at the thick tension they exuded.
"This is wonderful food, Sam," Gimli said, hoping to change the subject so one would stop looking at the other as if he wanted to pull out his sword.
Startled that the attention was on him, Sam opened his mouth, then closed it. "Well, uh, it wasn't hard. Just something I scraped together," he finished in a mumble.
"Maybe we'll be able to have fish tomorrow night," Pippin volunteered, and a few others nodded.
Nevada hated uneasy, tense conversation, and that was what they were having. It made her fidgety, and she didn't know what to say to break it. There was really nothing she could do, except glare at Aragorn and Boromir for being ornery and argumentative. If they could just settle their differences and argue it out to get it over with, the problem would be solved. Both, however, were too proud and stubborn to do anything about it when the others were listening. Sighing in aggravation, Nevada stabbed her sausage and ate it.
Dinner ended, and everyone pitched in to clean their plates so Sam wouldn't have to. Once everything was put away, they resumed their positions around the fire, unwilling to douse it quite yet. Legolas and Nev sat next to Merry's blanket, and the former watched the Hobbit sleep. He sustained no outer injuries, so he should be waking up soon.
Pippin refused to go to sleep until Merry woke up, and Frodo and Sam quickly followed that sentiment. Aragorn was unwilling to let Frodo stay up too late, however, for the Hobbit looked exhausted. Every day he looked more weighed down by what he carried, and it was added with the emotional stress of almost losing another Fellowship member. They all wanted Frodo to sleep, but he was adamant about staying awake for Merry.
In his mind, Merry was back in the rapids. The boat jarred so hard, and he couldn't find a grip on anything solid. He felt himself fall in midair for a few heart stopping seconds, and then his body hit freezing water. The cold seeped through his clothes, his skin, freezing his heart, and he was under the waves before he could think twice. He'd had no chance to take a breath, and his lungs were telling him to surface when he couldn't remember which way was up. The water was churning all around him, tossing his body this way and that and his flailing hands couldn't get a grip on anything.
Suddenly he felt his head break the surface, and the moment he felt cold air rush past his face, he took in a deep, gulping breath. His eyes opened and stared up at blue sky and white clouds before he was whisked under again. He wanted to scream, because he was afraid and he wanted someone to hear him, but he couldn't stop holding his breath.
Where was the water taking him? He was so frightened, and all he could hear was the roaring of the water filling his ears and his own pounding heartbeat. His hands couldn't grab anything - where was a rock? Anything, he just needed something to grab onto!
The rapids allowed him to surface once more, when he thought his lungs would explode and he would die in the rapids, hundreds of miles away from home and alone. Suddenly the air was there, and he gulped it in, as much as he could, before the current pulled him under again. It kept pulling and pulling, and Merry stretched and tried to swim for the surface. His eyes opened underwater, and he witnessed the glittering surface get farther and farther from him.
Panicking, Merry frantically tried to swim upwards, but the water wouldn't let him. It kept pulling, at his feet, his clothes, his arms. He was losing the battle, and it terrified him more than anything. He couldn't die here! Someone would come for him - Aragorn, Gandalf - someone! He couldn't die alone, he didn't want to drown!
His lungs burned again for air, and he couldn't breathe in the water, because that would be giving in, accepting this fate, and he couldn't do that. He held his breath until the blood started to pound in his ears, his limbs felt heavy, and his lungs throbbed. It became harder and harder to do, and the current was still pulling him down, no matter how much he clawed and kicked towards the surface.
His vision started to blacken the further down he was pulled, and he fought that, too. No matter how much his body longed to stop fighting, his mind wouldn't let him.
So he kept fighting, until he couldn't see anymore and his mind felt fuzzy and disoriented. Then the Hobbit slipped into another world entirely, and the rapids no longer existed.
His memory failed him after that, and as the mists of slumber dissipated, he was greatly confused. He could breathe, and he was . . . warm.
Warm! The young Hobbit sighed to himself. He felt so incredibly warm. He most certainly wasn't in the water anymore. And he could breathe. His lungs didn't hurt.
Where was he?
Did he die? Brief panic filled him, and his heart started beating faster. He wasn't dead, was he? What came after death? This couldn't be it, could it? He couldn't hear anyone else - where was Pippin, and Frodo, and Sam? Where was the Fellowship?
Just as he thought that, faint voices began to fill his ears. People were talking, but they sounded so fuzzy and far away he couldn't make out who it was. Everything was black, he was warm, dry, and not in the water. He didn't feel like he was dead, but . . .
A murmuring voice grew louder, and he strained to make it out, but he couldn't do it. It was deep. Was someone trying to talk to him? Had he really died, and this was after?
A voice close to his right came through with startling clarity.
"Fuckin' Dwarf."
Merry's notions of death came crashing down, and he realized he wasn't dead. No, he was far from dead. While this thought brought him joy, it also made him want to go back to sleep. He didn't want to step into that one. Miss Nevada's tone was irritated, and although nice to hear her again . . ..
Maybe I should sleep a bit more, he thought. Now that he wasn't confused anymore - he had been saved, and he was extremely grateful for it . . .. he'd thank them in the morning.
Nevada was still glaring at the Dwarf for his comment ten minutes after it happened. He glared back, and she was determined to hold her ground and make him look away first. She knew she was being childish, but she didn't care. She was tired and had no patience for ridiculously short people with too much hair and too much armor.
Frodo and Sam had been watching with amusement earlier, but now both were falling asleep on the large blanket Merry was laying on. Pippin had long fallen asleep, his head resting on Merry's arm.
Legolas ignored their little spat and was sliding in and out of dreams. The swim had fatigued him greatly, and he was giving himself this time to sleep so he could post watch later on in the night. Aragorn was taking over the first, than himself, and Boromir.
Nevada tried to keep glaring at the Dwarf for the next five minutes, but her eyelids were starting to feel heavy. Her limbs were weary, and she was starting to wear down. Her arms felt useless, huddled in the blanket with the rest of her, and the heat from the dying fire washed over her, warming her.
If she just rested her eyes for a moment, she'd be all right. She closed them, and felt sleep creep in on the edges of her mind. She felt so drained - she just needed a few minutes of sleep, and she could think of a good comeback to get that Dwarf pissed off enough so she could kill him and not feel bad about it.
Legolas felt a pressure on his left shoulder and looked over. Nevada's head had fallen onto him as she fell asleep. Half smiling, Legolas let it go and turned his attention back to the woods. He didn't mind letting her sleep there until his watch. They both deserved some rest.
Just as he started to go into sleep, he felt her head move slowly forward. Waking up, he looked at her out of the corner of his eye and watched her head fall forward off his shoulder. He reached over with his opposite hand and put his hand to her head, pushed it slowly back up until he was certain she wouldn't fall again.
By this time, everyone had fallen asleep except for Aragorn and Boromir. Aragorn busied himself by scanning the area they were in a few times to ensure they were quite alone there, then walked down towards the boat to check if they were empty. Boromir sat in front of the fire, watching it slowly die and go out until there were only red embers left. He could not sleep until he said what he wanted to say. The Man was much too tense for rest.
Aragorn knew Boromir wanted to argue his case about Minas Tirith, and was eager to get it out of the way. If they could clear the air tonight, there would be less tension in the morning - tension wasn't something the Fellowship needed right then.
Aragorn sat down on one of the boats and stared hard at the water, waiting for Boromir to join him. While he looked out on the water, he witnessed a ripple in the calm, and sat up straighter. The ripple grew, and Aragorn was able to make out a form. He heard Boromir arrive and stand next to him.
Before Boromir could question, Aragorn answered for him. "Gollum. He has tracked us since Moria." He sighed. "I had hoped we would lose him on the river. But he's too clever as a waterman."
Boromir stared pensively at the rippling form in the water, his thoughts turning more grim at the being floating in the water. "And if he alerts the enemy to our whereabouts, it will make the crossing even more dangerous." He took in a breath and continued. "Minas Tirith is the safer road." Aragorn looked up at him, and Boromir defended his plan. "You know that. From there we can regroup. Strike out for Mordor from a place of strength!"
Aragorn stood up slowly and shook his head at Boromir; almost sadly. "There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us."
Disbelieving, Boromir stared after him. Anger at his words filled him, and the Man spat out, "You were quick enough to trust the Elves." He stood close to Aragorn, peering angrily into the other Man's face, who merely stared back with a steely expression. "Have you so little faith in your own people? Yes, there is weakness. There is frailty. But there is courage also, and honor to be found in Men! But you will not see that!"
Boromir paused, trying to quell his fury in the ranger's lack of faith and not succeeding. He looked into the Man's silver blue eyes and gritted his teeth. He wanted to make this Man angry, as angry as he felt. "You are afraid. All your life, you have hidden in the shadows. Scared of who you are, of what you are!"
Aragorn's jaw tightened and he stared coldly at the Steward's son. Tightly, he said, "I will not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city." The Man tried to walk away from Boromir, but he wouldn't have it. That comment sent his anger over the edge, and the Man had to clench his fists to keep them from finding their way to Aragorn's face. He'd never felt more insulted.
"It would be your city if you weren't too frightened to take on the responsibility," Boromir spat.
Aragorn stopped walking, but didn't turn around. He closed his eyes against the slow anger that was building up against his companion, could feel it boiling up within him. He took even, deep breaths so he could handle this argument without letting his emotions cloud it."Do not speak of that which you know nothing about," he informed him quietly.
"How could I not?" Boromir said, filled with righteous indignation and bright, sharp anger."It's easy to piece together, Aragorn - you're easier to figure out than you think. You've spent years occupying your time in the north as a ranger, and even when you did have the opportunity to become what you are destined to be, you turned away. Fled north again. You're running from your destiny, and it makes you look cowardly!"
"I have done nothing to warrant such an accusation!" Aragorn turned around and stared down Boromir with slanted eyes, silver in the moonlight."Gondor has done well without my presence, and we will speak no more of it! My position concerning Gondor is not open for discussion, Boromir, son of Denethor!"
"But it will," Boromir insisted."What will you do, Aragorn, if Frodo succeeds? Go north once again, always hiding for fear of being called to the throne? What will you do if he fails? Will you leave Gondor to fend for themselves, leave my father to fight off the forces of Mordor alone?"
"No one knows the future, Boromir," Aragorn cut in."I would abandon no one in battle, as I am sure you wouldn't do, either. That all stands to be decided when the time comes, and for now, we must concentrate on aiding Frodo so he can put an end to this! Arguing amongst ourselves is not going to help him."
Boromir sensed Aragorn was putting an end to the argument with that statement, but he wasn't willing to let it end yet. He had more to say - he was still angry at this arrogant Man who would insult his home and people so lightly."Do you not realize that the burden on Frodo would be less if he had more looking after him? More strength to get him to Mordor?"
Aragorn gritted his teeth against Boromir's stubborn viewpoint."Frodo's burden is for him alone to bear, no matter how many go with him. He will eventually have to do the deed alone. We are not taking the road to Minas Tirith."
Boromir's clenched fists ached. He was swept over with helpless anger over Aragorn's unwillingness to see what would be right for them - what would be right for Frodo. The young Hobbit would be safer with Gondor's armies aiding him - could he not see that?
"Does my advice count for nothing?" he asked tightly.
"It counts for something," Aragorn disagreed, and with his next comment his face hardened."But your judgement is somewhat lacking, especially concerning the safety of two Hobbits in your care!"
Boromir's eyes flashed in anger."That could have happened to any one of us!"
The half shout echoed around the boats and nearby forest, into the campsite. A few of the Hobbits stirred, but it invaded the mists of sleep that enveloped Nevada. She jolted awake when she heard the loud voice, and furrowed her brow in confusion through her half dreaming state. Was that Boromir? Nevada decided it was too late to care, and was about to drift off again when she heard another voice respond. She recognized that one immediately as Aragorn. Maybe waking up was worth it to hear what they were talking about.
Nevada slowly opened her eyes despite her mind's protest, and allowed them time to adjust to the dark around her. Her head was leaned over soft material she didn't recognize. With a weird disoriented feeling, she wondered how she got in this position and what she was leaning against."What -"
"Shh."
She almost yelped in surprise at the voice that spoke a few inches away from her head. Rearing her head back, Nev stared in confusion at Legolas, whose shoulder she had been sleeping on. His attention wasn't on her - rather, the argument that was taking place a few yards away. He looked momentarily away to give her another look that meant to be quiet.
She'd never witnessed the Elf snoop before - it was a surprise to see. Then her stomach dropped with unease as she realized this must be the argument that had been brewing between those two all day. It must be pretty important. Nev sat up normally and leaned towards Legolas, both their ears tuning in to the two voices on the sand. She could make out their forms in the moonlight quite clearly, but they couldn't see them for the foilage in the way.
"It was a mistake that anyone could have made!" they heard Boromir strain out.
"A mistake that could have been avoided if you had been more watchful of the rapids," Aragorn shot back."I realize accidents happen, Boromir, but this is something that we cannot treat in a trivial matter. I do not doubt your skill as a warrior, but I doubt your discipline. Just because you're near the end of the rapids does not mean all obstacles are out of your way."
"I am aware of that!" Boromir said sharply."And I regret not being more careful, but it is done! Merry was saved, thank the Valar -"
"Merry was saved by the quick thinking of Nevada and Legolas," Aragorn interrupted tightly."Nothing more. Had they not been paying attention and intervened when they did, he probably wouldn't be alive." The two being spoken of exchanged a look before turning their attention back to the two Men
Boromir was silent for a long minute before he spoke again. The tension in his voice thickened with each word."If I could take back what happened, I would. I condemn myself for my lack of action , and on my honor it won't happen again. I care about their safety as much as you, Aragorn, and I am grateful for Nevada and Legolas's help."
"They did much more than help, Boromir. He would have died without them." Nevada squirmed uncomfortably next to Legolas at the offhanded praise.
"Yes, and you need not continue to remind me," Boromir said, his voice taut again."I resent being treated like a child who has done wrong, Aragorn. If it had been you who had made the mistake -"
"Stop it, Boromir," Aragorn cut in, his tone one of warning.
The Man of Gondor was tired of hearing that tone. This ranger was not above him in any way - how dare he speak to him as if he were? The ranger believed that since he was raised by beings wiser than any human, he had a right to act the same. He was just a Man like any other, regardless of upbringing. His upbringing did not make him any less Mortal or Human than the next.
Letting anger lead his words, Boromir hissed out,"You can never be one of them, no matter how much you try." Aragorn stiffened."We all have frivolous dreams of being Immortal, of admiring the ones who are. Raised by Elves you were, but that does not make you any less Human, any less capable of making mistakes."
"I never said otherwise."
"You don't have to say it," Boromir remarked, a note of scorn in his voice."It's in your actions. You know I feel guilt over what took place today, yet you continue to condemn me for it. Who should be condemned, Aragorn? I have taken my place in the world, accepted my role and responsibilities. What is your place, Aragorn, if not on the throne?"
Legolas's back had stiffened since the mention of Immortals, and Nevada's eyes were narrowed as she watched them argue back and forth, hands gesturing, pacing around each other. This was going a lot deeper than an argument about a treacherous mishap.
Aragorn didn't respond, which caused Boromir to press on to the issue he'd been striving to come down to."Do you really see your place at her side?" Tingles of alarm shot up Nevada's spine, and she stared hard at the figures on the sand, unsure of what ground this Man was now treading on.
The ranger's head shot up at the remark, and he looked at Boromir with disbelief."What?"
Satisfied he had gotten the Man's full attention, Boromir continued on, his heart angry and pained over issues and feelings that had been brewing since Lothlorien."Being raised by Immortals does not make you one," he said in a low voice," nor does it make you any more qualified to win the heart of one."
"What madness are you speaking of, Boromir?" Aragorn asked angrily.
"A beautiful creature such as Nevada deserves more than a rugged ranger who runs from his true noble calling."
Astonished, Nevada's mouth gaped open and she nearly gasped. Legolas had enough time to look at her before she tried to sprint out towards them, disbelieving anger coloring her face. The Elf's hand shot out, and he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She struggled for a moment until Legolas shook his head and leaned towards her.
"Remember the true cause of this," he urged her quietly. Nevada took in a shuddering, angry breath and gritted her teeth into silence.
Stunned, saddened, and angered, Aragorn forced himself to speak in a normal tone."A bold statement, Boromir. And I suppose you see yourself as more fit?"
Nevada's eyes widened, and she hissed in a breath, clenched her hand into a fist in her lap. She could not believe what she was hearing! She was so insulted, it was all she could to sit there and not kill them both. She seethed quietly over the conversation, willing herself to be reminded that they were stupid men and the Ring was making them more argumentative than normal.
Legolas looked disturbed at the topic of their argument, as well, and he saw how much it angered Nevada. Giving her arm a quick pat of reassurance, he stayed quiet to hear more and judge whether or not it would be wise to intervene before someone broke the thin ice the Men were treading on.
"I do not, by any means, consider myself worthy, but I am astute enough to realize now that, as Mortals, neither of us stand a chance."
I want to kill him, Nev thought. No, I want to kill them both. I want to end their pointless existences in the most painful way possible. Valar keep me from grabbing my sword and being done with it! She was so enraged and offended by their words, she could hardly look at them. She could hardly look at Legolas, either; somehow, it was almost degrading to hear herself being spoke of in such a manner, as if she were a delectable, unattainable prize. It was disgusting, and her respect of both men was going down dramatically.
"You speak of her as if she were a pretty thing to be won." The disdain in Aragorn's voice, however, made Nevada pause in her plans of maiming."Nevada deserves and has earned more respect than that. If you want to argue about such a petty thing -"
"A petty thing that has blinded your judgement and emotion," Boromir interrupted maddeningly."I see how you look at her, for it is the same way I used to look upon her. She is a Faerie, Aragorn - she will never accept you the way you want her to."When Aragorn began shaking his head, Boromir continued,"Do not deny it, Aragorn! Your actions speak a louder contrast to your words. You have allowed yourself to fall too far, and you know what will happen. You will grow old as we all do, and she will stay young and beautiful. Face it, Aragorn - you are deluding yourself as I did. She will never lower herself like that - she is far above you or -"
"Enough!"
Aragorn and Nevada spoke it at the same time. Aragorn's furious expression changed when he heard the higher voice say it with him, and both him and Boromir instantly paled. Nevada jerked her hand away from Legolas, and stalked over to them with Legolas close behind. He couldn't leave the three alone without fear of bloodshed.
"I want nothing more than to slap the both of you like the quarreling little boys you are!" Nevada snapped, glaring at them both with hot, vivid violet eyes."I could not help but overhear your not-so-subtle argument, and what I heard made me want to vomit. This argument has been disgusting and humiliating above all else!" Boromir opened his mouth to speak, but Nevada held up her hand to his face."You shut up until I'm finished! I put up with a lot of shit over my gender and warfare, and most I'm able to shrug off. I know how capable I am. But when I find myself in the center of a tug of war between two idiotic men over my affections - and you completely delude yourselves if you think there are any - it pisses me off. I didn't come on this quest to participate in a courting service between two Humans - I came to do my part in protecting a certain Hobbit over there who, thank the Valar, is sleeping through this shameful argument! I am so mad right now, I could kick your asses!"
"Nevada -" Aragorn began, his eyes full of apology and regret.
"I don't want to hear it," Nevada warned him in a low voice."I can't even begin to express how angry and disappointed I am right now. If this is how you talk about me when I'm not around, I want nothing to do with either of you. Our main purpose is to get Frodo where he needs to go, and it ends there. This ridiculous argument is over, and when I walk away, I don't want either of you to come near me. I will skin the person alive who bothers me until tomorrow. I . . ."Nevada shook her head, trying to think clearly under the haze of fury and hurt clouding her mind."I can't even look at you right now." She turned around and walked off quickly.
Legolas stayed where he was, and turned his grayish blue eyes to the speechless Men. His gaze was unreadable, but he radiated disappointment and irritation. For a moment it looked as if he were about to speak, but then he hesitated. The Elf gave them one last look each; an intense look of censure, before finally shaking his head slowly and walking away.
You'll say you'll understand, but you don't understand
You'll say you'd never give up seeing eye to eye
But never is a promise, and you can't afford to lie.
You'll never touch - these things that I hold
You'll never feel the heat of this soul
My fever burns me deeper than I've ever shown to you
You'll say, don't fear your dreams, it's easier than it seems
You'll say you'd never let me fall from hopes so high
But never is a promise, and you can't afford to lie . . . - 'Never Is A Promise' by Fiona Apple
Chapter 27
The three boats traveled for another four hours down the river. Merry continued to sleep - no longer unconscious, much to everyone's relief, so they let him rest off his ordeal. The wind continued to blow cold through the trees, much to the annoyance of Legolas and Nevada. Legolas bore the cold wind across his wet clothes and skin quietly, keeping his gaze on the shores around them, and Nevada curled up in the boat as best she could. The ache in her knee throbbed painfully for the first two hours, and was starting to ease as the sun began to set. She wrapped her cold fingers around her knee, and tried not to move so the wet clothes clinging to her skin wouldn't be jostled.
Aragorn kept true to his word, to their relief, and as the last rays of the sun began to fade on the horizon, he called to everyone that they would be stopping for the night on the west shore. It seemed to pose less of a threat than the east for the moment, for they were always on the lookout for movement of the enemy, and the enemy was quiet. They traveled for another ten minutes before Aragorn found a clearing that was satisfactory, and motioned for everyone to head for shore.
"I'm not getting back in the water," was Nevada's first response to the order. "Gimli, you can do it."
"He's too short," Legolas said, almost regretfully. He sincerely did not want to go in, either.
Gimli sputtered at the Elf's offhanded comment, and let the paddle drop on the side of the boat with a clank. "Now listen here, Elf! I am just as capable as the likes of you to beach this boat. You just keep your drowned rat self in here while I show you how it's done!"
Legolas blinked, then stared at Gimli as Nevada choked back a laugh. "Excuse me?"
Nev fought against laughing to keep her composure, but the thoroughly insulted look on Legolas's face made her lose and laugh anyway. "It's okay, Legolas," she finally got out, "I wouldn't be insulted if I were you, coming from a creature that rather resembles a curious red puff ball wearing armor."
Nevada gasped in shock when Gimli decided to jump from the boat at that moment, and water splashed over her legs and front. The Dwarf began to pull their boat the rest of the way to shore, as close as he could get without them worrying it would float away.
Legolas raised an eyebrow in amusement at Nev as she ranted, "You are damn lucky I am too tired to tackle you, Gimli, because if I decided you were worth beating down now, you'd be floating down the river carrying your limbs with you!"
"Big words from someone who can hardly keep her head up from the exhaustion," Gimli remarked in a disgruntled tone as he finished the job and began sloshing back towards the boat for the packs. Legolas began to grab as many as he could before stepping out of the boat and onto blessed dry land.
Nevada glared at the Dwarf as she still sat in the boat, until she realized that they were truly on shore now. All animosities fled as relief filled her, and she scrambled from the boat at an awkward crawl. She pulled herself from it, and flopped quite ungracefully on the sand and grass. She gave a grateful sigh at the feel of the sand against her cheek, and contented herself for a few moments to lay on the shore, her fingers curled in the grass and mentally thanking the Valar to be away from the water for one night.
Boromir carefully lifted Merry out of the boat, keeping the wet form clasped to him, and Pippin hovered around him as they both stepped out of the boat.
"What should I do for him, Boromir?" Pippin asked worriedly.
Boromir paused. "Get the rest of the packs out of the boat, Pippin. One of them should have a few dry tunics in it. We need to get him out of these wet clothes." Pippin nodded and ran back to the boat, retrieving as many as he could back.
The Man carried the Hobbit's limp form over to Aragorn, who was making a pit for the fire. Aragorn looked up, an unreadable expression on his face. "Frodo," he called to the Hobbit carrying the last pack to their temporary home, "grab a few blankets and spread them on the ground here for Merry."
Frodo nodded and dropped his pack. He quickly went to the other supply packs, and searched through them until he found one rough blanket and one soft blanket. He hurried over and laid down the rough blanket first, then spread the softer one over it so Merry wouldn't be itching when he woke up. Boromir laid him down on that, then sat next to the limp Hobbit along with Frodo.
"Should we get him some dry clothes?" Frodo asked, his concerned blue eyes sweeping over Merry's pallor skin and clinging tunic.
"I've got them, right here!" Pippin said as he scurried over to where his cousin lay. He held a large red tunic and brown leggings that obviously belonged to Boromir.
The three spent the next few minutes struggling to get Merry out of his wet clothes and into the dry ones, tugging at stubborn material and trying not to wake him. Sam came in to help halfway through it, and between him and the rest, they were able to get off his leggings, shirt, tunic, and cloak off. It all lay in a wet, sagging heap on a corner of the blanket at the end. Boromir quickly dressed Merry in the dry tunic and leggings, which swamped Merry's little form.
"They're much too large for him," Pippin commented.
Boromir shook his head. "'Tis a good thing, Pippin. It'll give him added warmth and more freedom to move around when he wakes. I suppose we'll just leave him here to rest and warm up by the fire when it's started, until he wakes up."
"He will wake up, won't he?" Pippin asked, his forehead lined with worry. Frodo and Sam looked up at Boromir as well, three hopeful and upset faces staring up at him. He again felt guilt gnaw at him for not being more careful in the rapids. Merry's still form was a constant reminder of that, and he desperately wanted to make it right. He wanted to erase the worry from those faces.
"He will most assuredly wake up," he told them. He felt marginally better when Pippin and Sam looked relieved, and Frodo smiled. They insisted to stay with Merry until he awoke, so Boromir left them and turned towards Aragorn, who was by the pit.
Before Boromir could say anything, Aragorn said quietly, "Boromir, I need more wood to start this fire."
The other Man stiffened at the ranger's tone. He watched the other's back with narrowed eyes for a moment, then stalked off. He may be the unspoken leader of their Fellowship now that Gandalf was dead, but who was he to use that tone with him? He would not be ordered about by a ranger from the North, one who clearly blamed him for Merry's accident. It was enough that Boromir blamed himself for not being more careful, but to be looked down on by the other Man was too much. It was a mistake anyone could have made.
Boromir stewed about this silently, his discontentment and righteous anger building up as he retrieved more wood for their fire.
Legolas nearly stepped on the dark form lying in the sand in front of him. Looking down from the pack he was holding, he sighed. Nevada. He knew she was happy to be on shore, and he felt the same way, but he was going to express it in a different way than Nevada felt inclined to. He stepped over her to retrieve the rest if the packs, anxious to get out of his own wet clothes, and called back to her, "Aragorn's starting a fire, if you're interested."
Nevada's head shot up, and it didn't take her long to be up and following the Elf in the direction of the ranger kneeling down in front of a pit he made. She was surprised to feel how stiff her knee had gotten from the swim, and practically had to hobble over to him. It didn't want to work right.
She spotted Sam, Frodo and Pippin surrounding a blanket, and knew Merry was in the middle. Briefly, she took a detour from Aragorn and knelt down between Pippin and Frodo, grimacing at the protest in her knee and the wet clothes sticking to her skin.
"He looks warm," she commented, pleasantly surprised to find the pale Hobbit wrapped up comfortably in a large red tunic that stretched all the way down to his ankles.
"He is. His skin's warming," Frodo said, smiling over at Nevada. Pippin was idly patting the dark blonde curls on Merry's head as he watched his face for signs of waking up, and Sam was fussing over what they were going to feed him when he woke. Nevada smiled a little at the sight they made, feeling that Merry was very lucky. She knew she would feel fortunate to wake up to such a sight.
Frodo watched Nevada, her hair still wet and clothes still dark from the soaking water, and once again felt admiration for this Faerie. He'd only met two Faeries in his entire life, and they were two of the bravest women he'd ever met. He found himself counting on Nevada to be there, and hoping she would never have to leave like Liana did. "Maybe you should get on some dry clothes," Frodo said softly, catching Nevada's attention. "It wouldn't do to stay wet all night. I wouldn't want you to catch a cold because of it."
Nevada smiled at the Ringbearer. "No, I guess it wouldn't." She resisted the urge to reach out and rustle his hair just for being adorable, and instead stood up slowly. She turned around just in time to see Boromir come striding back in the camp carrying wood. He set it down for Aragorn, who took it wordlessly and laid them in the pit. Nevada frowned at the tension laying thick between the two, and decided she was too tired and wet to give it much thought at the moment.
She knelt down again, next to Aragorn this time, who looked over to her in mild surprise. "Nevada," he nodded, before turning back to his task. "How are you feeling?"
She tilted her head. "Cold and wet, thanks. But it's really not a question you should be asking me. I'm fine. It's Merry who'll wake up with the chills. Let's hope he doesn't catch a fever."
Aragorn shook his head. "He won't. I'll prepare him a tea that will stave that off."
Nevada raised an eyebrow. "You didn't strike me as a healer."
The ranger gave a funny smile that turned genuine when the fire caught and the flames began licking the wood. "I was raised by healers."
The Faerie nodded in understanding, then was overcome with a peculiar thought. She really didn't know all that much about this Man, did she? She had little knowledge of his past, save that he was a Ranger for many years and used to be in Gondor's service. Other than that, his past was a mystery to her. Unsettled by this lack of knowledge, and even more unsettled by the fact that she sincerely wanted to know, she cleared her throat.
"Do you need help with anything?"
Aragorn watched her for a moment, then said, "Nothing for now, Nevada. Why don't you and Legolas dry off now? That was a valiant thing you both did, and we're all very grateful." He looked her in the eye as he spoke, and Nevada responded by standing up.
"It was nothing, and I think I will dry off." She hesitated, however, when she realized that she had no other clothes to change into. Wincing, she asked, "You, uh . . . you don't happen to have an extra tunic with you, do you?"
Aragorn shook his head. "No, I'm sorry."
Damn. "Does . . . Boromir?"
"I think he gave his extra to Merry."
Shit! "Does . . . anyone?"
Understanding the predicament Nevada was in, Aragorn shook his head. "No, but your cloak is dry. We also have an extra thick blanket you can use until your clothing dries."
Nevada grimaced. The thought of wrapping herself in only a blanket and cloak around these people made her uneasy. Her only other choice, though, was to stay in the wet clothes, and she really, really didn't want to do that. Sighing painfully, she nodded. "I guess I'll use that."
She went to find her cloak, and Aragorn fished around for a blanket for her. It was a large, thick gray blanket, and Nevada snatched it quickly, afraid her cheeks were growing warm. She would have to find a place far away from here to do this.
"Legolas!" Aragorn called over to the Elf, who was unloading materials for dinner and handing it to Sam. He looked up. "Go with Nevada so you can both change. I don't want either of you caught alone if there are unfriendly visitors."
Nevada looked at the Man with horror. "I can go by myself!"
"We're not taking that risk, Nevada."
"I'm willing to take that risk!"
"No. Neither of you are going alone."
"I'll bring a weapon, I'll be fine!"
"You'll both bring a weapon."
Nevada opened her mouth to shout it wasn't fair, but closed it when she knew she risked sounding like a five year old Human child. Aragorn gave her a look that said he wasn't going to budge, and she gave him the dirtiest look she could conjure. She knew Legolas would only be concentrating on changing himself, and he was chivalrous enough to look away - not to mention he was madly in love with someone else, but it was still hard to swallow that she couldn't change alone.
Legolas strode up, looking all business to get out of his wet clothes and into the dry leggings and extra cloak he was carrying, since his undershirt was wet, too, and carrying a tree branch that served as a bright torch. He paused when Nevada just stood there. "Grab your weapon, and let's go," he told her patiently.
She breathed out through her nose and walked over to retrieve one of her daggers. She muttered, "Let's just get this over with," to him as they walked quickly away from the campsite and into the dark of the forest. They immediately noticed how much colder it became once they were away from the fire, and Nevada shivered against it and moved closer to the torch Legolas was carrying. The warmth of it bathed the side of her face, and was hopefully helping her hair dry, too.
The light from the torch cast eerie shadows against the tall trees, its glow flickering against leaves, tree branches and bushes. Both kept their ears open for any unnatural sounds besides that of the nocturnal owls and crickets.
"I think here's all right," Nevada said, unwilling to go any farther since they would have to walk it back.
Legolas nodded, and let her go first. He held the torch a little closer so she could see what she was doing, and she set the blanket down for a moment to have a hand free. Legolas looked politely away as Nevada hurriedly changed, throwing the damp clothing on the ground and quickly tying the cloak around her. Once that was on, she wrapped the blanket completely around her and tied it in a knot on one shoulder so everything was covered. The blanket felt incredibly warmer than her cold clothes and made her sigh in relief. It was hard to feel uneasy around the Elf, since he didn't make it a big deal.
When she was finished, she took the torch and Legolas quickly changed. She averted her eyes for him, and he pulled off the wet clothes and pulled on the dry leggings. The cloak would serve as a shirt until his undershirt was dry. They were finished in record time, and began the journey back with their damp clothes underarm as quickly as possible.
When they arrived back at camp, Sam was preparing dinner; Frodo and Pippin were sitting near Merry, Gimli was smoking a pipe next to the fire, and Aragorn and Boromir were sitting opposite of each other across the fire.
"Something's brewing between those two," Legolas murmured.
Nevada nodded. "A lot of tension. Do you think Aragorn's going to yell at Boromir for earlier?"
"I don't know if it will come to that, but they will argue," he replied, keeping his eyes fixed on their stiff forms. "It was an accident, but one that could have been avoided."
They stopped speaking of it when they arrived at the campfire, and both laid out their clothing near the fire to dry it off overnight. Nevada made herself comfortable on the ground, sitting between Merry on his blanket and Aragorn to her far left. She huddled in her blanket and cloak, now completely warm and content as a kitten for the first time since they left Lothlorien. Legolas looked much happier in dry clothing, as well, and took his position on the other side of Merry.
The smell of food cooking wafted from the other side of the fire to everyone, and Pippin looked down at Merry, hoping the smell would wake him up and he could see his cousin open his eyes. "Sam's cooking, Merry," he whispered to him as he repositioned his head and covered him up a bit more. "Sausage and vegetables. There's carrots and celery in there, Merry. I wouldn't want you to miss it." He looked on, disappointed, as the Hobbit's face showed no response, and he slept on.
Frodo put a hand on Pippin's shoulder and smiled reassuringly. "He'll wake up, Pippin. Just give him time."
Dinner was served ten minutes later, which tasted divine after the trying ordeal a few hours earlier. They ate in silence for the first few minutes, until Pippin broke it.
"So where are we going now?"
"Yes," Frodo said, looking up from his dinner. "How far south are we? I always imagined that as one goes south, it gets warmer, but it is still quite cold."
Aragorn and Boromir cast each other a glance before the former turned to the two Hobbits. "We're not as far south yet as you think. It's still winter here, and we're far from the sea. The Anduin will eventually run to the Bay of Belfalas, and there it is very warm, but right now - in that direction," he pointed southwest,"we're near the Riddermark."
"Where?" Pippin and Sam asked simultaneously.
"Rohan," Boromir muttered. "Land of the Horse-lords."
Aragorn nodded. "Soon we'll travel to the mouth of the Limlight that runs out of Fangorn to join the Anduin. That's where the northern boundary of Rohan lies. From there, we will eventually reach Emyn Muil." It was unspoken of where they would go after that, for all knew it.
"I do not see why we cannot follow the river any further than that," Boromir suddenly stated. "Once we reach Emyn Muil, we can make it easy on ourselves and strike out south and west."
"If we were going to Minas Tirith, yes," Aragorn said slowly; dangerously. "But that has not been decided." The two stared at each other for a long moment, making everyone else uneasy at the thick tension they exuded.
"This is wonderful food, Sam," Gimli said, hoping to change the subject so one would stop looking at the other as if he wanted to pull out his sword.
Startled that the attention was on him, Sam opened his mouth, then closed it. "Well, uh, it wasn't hard. Just something I scraped together," he finished in a mumble.
"Maybe we'll be able to have fish tomorrow night," Pippin volunteered, and a few others nodded.
Nevada hated uneasy, tense conversation, and that was what they were having. It made her fidgety, and she didn't know what to say to break it. There was really nothing she could do, except glare at Aragorn and Boromir for being ornery and argumentative. If they could just settle their differences and argue it out to get it over with, the problem would be solved. Both, however, were too proud and stubborn to do anything about it when the others were listening. Sighing in aggravation, Nevada stabbed her sausage and ate it.
Dinner ended, and everyone pitched in to clean their plates so Sam wouldn't have to. Once everything was put away, they resumed their positions around the fire, unwilling to douse it quite yet. Legolas and Nev sat next to Merry's blanket, and the former watched the Hobbit sleep. He sustained no outer injuries, so he should be waking up soon.
Pippin refused to go to sleep until Merry woke up, and Frodo and Sam quickly followed that sentiment. Aragorn was unwilling to let Frodo stay up too late, however, for the Hobbit looked exhausted. Every day he looked more weighed down by what he carried, and it was added with the emotional stress of almost losing another Fellowship member. They all wanted Frodo to sleep, but he was adamant about staying awake for Merry.
In his mind, Merry was back in the rapids. The boat jarred so hard, and he couldn't find a grip on anything solid. He felt himself fall in midair for a few heart stopping seconds, and then his body hit freezing water. The cold seeped through his clothes, his skin, freezing his heart, and he was under the waves before he could think twice. He'd had no chance to take a breath, and his lungs were telling him to surface when he couldn't remember which way was up. The water was churning all around him, tossing his body this way and that and his flailing hands couldn't get a grip on anything.
Suddenly he felt his head break the surface, and the moment he felt cold air rush past his face, he took in a deep, gulping breath. His eyes opened and stared up at blue sky and white clouds before he was whisked under again. He wanted to scream, because he was afraid and he wanted someone to hear him, but he couldn't stop holding his breath.
Where was the water taking him? He was so frightened, and all he could hear was the roaring of the water filling his ears and his own pounding heartbeat. His hands couldn't grab anything - where was a rock? Anything, he just needed something to grab onto!
The rapids allowed him to surface once more, when he thought his lungs would explode and he would die in the rapids, hundreds of miles away from home and alone. Suddenly the air was there, and he gulped it in, as much as he could, before the current pulled him under again. It kept pulling and pulling, and Merry stretched and tried to swim for the surface. His eyes opened underwater, and he witnessed the glittering surface get farther and farther from him.
Panicking, Merry frantically tried to swim upwards, but the water wouldn't let him. It kept pulling, at his feet, his clothes, his arms. He was losing the battle, and it terrified him more than anything. He couldn't die here! Someone would come for him - Aragorn, Gandalf - someone! He couldn't die alone, he didn't want to drown!
His lungs burned again for air, and he couldn't breathe in the water, because that would be giving in, accepting this fate, and he couldn't do that. He held his breath until the blood started to pound in his ears, his limbs felt heavy, and his lungs throbbed. It became harder and harder to do, and the current was still pulling him down, no matter how much he clawed and kicked towards the surface.
His vision started to blacken the further down he was pulled, and he fought that, too. No matter how much his body longed to stop fighting, his mind wouldn't let him.
So he kept fighting, until he couldn't see anymore and his mind felt fuzzy and disoriented. Then the Hobbit slipped into another world entirely, and the rapids no longer existed.
His memory failed him after that, and as the mists of slumber dissipated, he was greatly confused. He could breathe, and he was . . . warm.
Warm! The young Hobbit sighed to himself. He felt so incredibly warm. He most certainly wasn't in the water anymore. And he could breathe. His lungs didn't hurt.
Where was he?
Did he die? Brief panic filled him, and his heart started beating faster. He wasn't dead, was he? What came after death? This couldn't be it, could it? He couldn't hear anyone else - where was Pippin, and Frodo, and Sam? Where was the Fellowship?
Just as he thought that, faint voices began to fill his ears. People were talking, but they sounded so fuzzy and far away he couldn't make out who it was. Everything was black, he was warm, dry, and not in the water. He didn't feel like he was dead, but . . .
A murmuring voice grew louder, and he strained to make it out, but he couldn't do it. It was deep. Was someone trying to talk to him? Had he really died, and this was after?
A voice close to his right came through with startling clarity.
"Fuckin' Dwarf."
Merry's notions of death came crashing down, and he realized he wasn't dead. No, he was far from dead. While this thought brought him joy, it also made him want to go back to sleep. He didn't want to step into that one. Miss Nevada's tone was irritated, and although nice to hear her again . . ..
Maybe I should sleep a bit more, he thought. Now that he wasn't confused anymore - he had been saved, and he was extremely grateful for it . . .. he'd thank them in the morning.
Nevada was still glaring at the Dwarf for his comment ten minutes after it happened. He glared back, and she was determined to hold her ground and make him look away first. She knew she was being childish, but she didn't care. She was tired and had no patience for ridiculously short people with too much hair and too much armor.
Frodo and Sam had been watching with amusement earlier, but now both were falling asleep on the large blanket Merry was laying on. Pippin had long fallen asleep, his head resting on Merry's arm.
Legolas ignored their little spat and was sliding in and out of dreams. The swim had fatigued him greatly, and he was giving himself this time to sleep so he could post watch later on in the night. Aragorn was taking over the first, than himself, and Boromir.
Nevada tried to keep glaring at the Dwarf for the next five minutes, but her eyelids were starting to feel heavy. Her limbs were weary, and she was starting to wear down. Her arms felt useless, huddled in the blanket with the rest of her, and the heat from the dying fire washed over her, warming her.
If she just rested her eyes for a moment, she'd be all right. She closed them, and felt sleep creep in on the edges of her mind. She felt so drained - she just needed a few minutes of sleep, and she could think of a good comeback to get that Dwarf pissed off enough so she could kill him and not feel bad about it.
Legolas felt a pressure on his left shoulder and looked over. Nevada's head had fallen onto him as she fell asleep. Half smiling, Legolas let it go and turned his attention back to the woods. He didn't mind letting her sleep there until his watch. They both deserved some rest.
Just as he started to go into sleep, he felt her head move slowly forward. Waking up, he looked at her out of the corner of his eye and watched her head fall forward off his shoulder. He reached over with his opposite hand and put his hand to her head, pushed it slowly back up until he was certain she wouldn't fall again.
By this time, everyone had fallen asleep except for Aragorn and Boromir. Aragorn busied himself by scanning the area they were in a few times to ensure they were quite alone there, then walked down towards the boat to check if they were empty. Boromir sat in front of the fire, watching it slowly die and go out until there were only red embers left. He could not sleep until he said what he wanted to say. The Man was much too tense for rest.
Aragorn knew Boromir wanted to argue his case about Minas Tirith, and was eager to get it out of the way. If they could clear the air tonight, there would be less tension in the morning - tension wasn't something the Fellowship needed right then.
Aragorn sat down on one of the boats and stared hard at the water, waiting for Boromir to join him. While he looked out on the water, he witnessed a ripple in the calm, and sat up straighter. The ripple grew, and Aragorn was able to make out a form. He heard Boromir arrive and stand next to him.
Before Boromir could question, Aragorn answered for him. "Gollum. He has tracked us since Moria." He sighed. "I had hoped we would lose him on the river. But he's too clever as a waterman."
Boromir stared pensively at the rippling form in the water, his thoughts turning more grim at the being floating in the water. "And if he alerts the enemy to our whereabouts, it will make the crossing even more dangerous." He took in a breath and continued. "Minas Tirith is the safer road." Aragorn looked up at him, and Boromir defended his plan. "You know that. From there we can regroup. Strike out for Mordor from a place of strength!"
Aragorn stood up slowly and shook his head at Boromir; almost sadly. "There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us."
Disbelieving, Boromir stared after him. Anger at his words filled him, and the Man spat out, "You were quick enough to trust the Elves." He stood close to Aragorn, peering angrily into the other Man's face, who merely stared back with a steely expression. "Have you so little faith in your own people? Yes, there is weakness. There is frailty. But there is courage also, and honor to be found in Men! But you will not see that!"
Boromir paused, trying to quell his fury in the ranger's lack of faith and not succeeding. He looked into the Man's silver blue eyes and gritted his teeth. He wanted to make this Man angry, as angry as he felt. "You are afraid. All your life, you have hidden in the shadows. Scared of who you are, of what you are!"
Aragorn's jaw tightened and he stared coldly at the Steward's son. Tightly, he said, "I will not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city." The Man tried to walk away from Boromir, but he wouldn't have it. That comment sent his anger over the edge, and the Man had to clench his fists to keep them from finding their way to Aragorn's face. He'd never felt more insulted.
"It would be your city if you weren't too frightened to take on the responsibility," Boromir spat.
Aragorn stopped walking, but didn't turn around. He closed his eyes against the slow anger that was building up against his companion, could feel it boiling up within him. He took even, deep breaths so he could handle this argument without letting his emotions cloud it."Do not speak of that which you know nothing about," he informed him quietly.
"How could I not?" Boromir said, filled with righteous indignation and bright, sharp anger."It's easy to piece together, Aragorn - you're easier to figure out than you think. You've spent years occupying your time in the north as a ranger, and even when you did have the opportunity to become what you are destined to be, you turned away. Fled north again. You're running from your destiny, and it makes you look cowardly!"
"I have done nothing to warrant such an accusation!" Aragorn turned around and stared down Boromir with slanted eyes, silver in the moonlight."Gondor has done well without my presence, and we will speak no more of it! My position concerning Gondor is not open for discussion, Boromir, son of Denethor!"
"But it will," Boromir insisted."What will you do, Aragorn, if Frodo succeeds? Go north once again, always hiding for fear of being called to the throne? What will you do if he fails? Will you leave Gondor to fend for themselves, leave my father to fight off the forces of Mordor alone?"
"No one knows the future, Boromir," Aragorn cut in."I would abandon no one in battle, as I am sure you wouldn't do, either. That all stands to be decided when the time comes, and for now, we must concentrate on aiding Frodo so he can put an end to this! Arguing amongst ourselves is not going to help him."
Boromir sensed Aragorn was putting an end to the argument with that statement, but he wasn't willing to let it end yet. He had more to say - he was still angry at this arrogant Man who would insult his home and people so lightly."Do you not realize that the burden on Frodo would be less if he had more looking after him? More strength to get him to Mordor?"
Aragorn gritted his teeth against Boromir's stubborn viewpoint."Frodo's burden is for him alone to bear, no matter how many go with him. He will eventually have to do the deed alone. We are not taking the road to Minas Tirith."
Boromir's clenched fists ached. He was swept over with helpless anger over Aragorn's unwillingness to see what would be right for them - what would be right for Frodo. The young Hobbit would be safer with Gondor's armies aiding him - could he not see that?
"Does my advice count for nothing?" he asked tightly.
"It counts for something," Aragorn disagreed, and with his next comment his face hardened."But your judgement is somewhat lacking, especially concerning the safety of two Hobbits in your care!"
Boromir's eyes flashed in anger."That could have happened to any one of us!"
The half shout echoed around the boats and nearby forest, into the campsite. A few of the Hobbits stirred, but it invaded the mists of sleep that enveloped Nevada. She jolted awake when she heard the loud voice, and furrowed her brow in confusion through her half dreaming state. Was that Boromir? Nevada decided it was too late to care, and was about to drift off again when she heard another voice respond. She recognized that one immediately as Aragorn. Maybe waking up was worth it to hear what they were talking about.
Nevada slowly opened her eyes despite her mind's protest, and allowed them time to adjust to the dark around her. Her head was leaned over soft material she didn't recognize. With a weird disoriented feeling, she wondered how she got in this position and what she was leaning against."What -"
"Shh."
She almost yelped in surprise at the voice that spoke a few inches away from her head. Rearing her head back, Nev stared in confusion at Legolas, whose shoulder she had been sleeping on. His attention wasn't on her - rather, the argument that was taking place a few yards away. He looked momentarily away to give her another look that meant to be quiet.
She'd never witnessed the Elf snoop before - it was a surprise to see. Then her stomach dropped with unease as she realized this must be the argument that had been brewing between those two all day. It must be pretty important. Nev sat up normally and leaned towards Legolas, both their ears tuning in to the two voices on the sand. She could make out their forms in the moonlight quite clearly, but they couldn't see them for the foilage in the way.
"It was a mistake that anyone could have made!" they heard Boromir strain out.
"A mistake that could have been avoided if you had been more watchful of the rapids," Aragorn shot back."I realize accidents happen, Boromir, but this is something that we cannot treat in a trivial matter. I do not doubt your skill as a warrior, but I doubt your discipline. Just because you're near the end of the rapids does not mean all obstacles are out of your way."
"I am aware of that!" Boromir said sharply."And I regret not being more careful, but it is done! Merry was saved, thank the Valar -"
"Merry was saved by the quick thinking of Nevada and Legolas," Aragorn interrupted tightly."Nothing more. Had they not been paying attention and intervened when they did, he probably wouldn't be alive." The two being spoken of exchanged a look before turning their attention back to the two Men
Boromir was silent for a long minute before he spoke again. The tension in his voice thickened with each word."If I could take back what happened, I would. I condemn myself for my lack of action , and on my honor it won't happen again. I care about their safety as much as you, Aragorn, and I am grateful for Nevada and Legolas's help."
"They did much more than help, Boromir. He would have died without them." Nevada squirmed uncomfortably next to Legolas at the offhanded praise.
"Yes, and you need not continue to remind me," Boromir said, his voice taut again."I resent being treated like a child who has done wrong, Aragorn. If it had been you who had made the mistake -"
"Stop it, Boromir," Aragorn cut in, his tone one of warning.
The Man of Gondor was tired of hearing that tone. This ranger was not above him in any way - how dare he speak to him as if he were? The ranger believed that since he was raised by beings wiser than any human, he had a right to act the same. He was just a Man like any other, regardless of upbringing. His upbringing did not make him any less Mortal or Human than the next.
Letting anger lead his words, Boromir hissed out,"You can never be one of them, no matter how much you try." Aragorn stiffened."We all have frivolous dreams of being Immortal, of admiring the ones who are. Raised by Elves you were, but that does not make you any less Human, any less capable of making mistakes."
"I never said otherwise."
"You don't have to say it," Boromir remarked, a note of scorn in his voice."It's in your actions. You know I feel guilt over what took place today, yet you continue to condemn me for it. Who should be condemned, Aragorn? I have taken my place in the world, accepted my role and responsibilities. What is your place, Aragorn, if not on the throne?"
Legolas's back had stiffened since the mention of Immortals, and Nevada's eyes were narrowed as she watched them argue back and forth, hands gesturing, pacing around each other. This was going a lot deeper than an argument about a treacherous mishap.
Aragorn didn't respond, which caused Boromir to press on to the issue he'd been striving to come down to."Do you really see your place at her side?" Tingles of alarm shot up Nevada's spine, and she stared hard at the figures on the sand, unsure of what ground this Man was now treading on.
The ranger's head shot up at the remark, and he looked at Boromir with disbelief."What?"
Satisfied he had gotten the Man's full attention, Boromir continued on, his heart angry and pained over issues and feelings that had been brewing since Lothlorien."Being raised by Immortals does not make you one," he said in a low voice," nor does it make you any more qualified to win the heart of one."
"What madness are you speaking of, Boromir?" Aragorn asked angrily.
"A beautiful creature such as Nevada deserves more than a rugged ranger who runs from his true noble calling."
Astonished, Nevada's mouth gaped open and she nearly gasped. Legolas had enough time to look at her before she tried to sprint out towards them, disbelieving anger coloring her face. The Elf's hand shot out, and he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She struggled for a moment until Legolas shook his head and leaned towards her.
"Remember the true cause of this," he urged her quietly. Nevada took in a shuddering, angry breath and gritted her teeth into silence.
Stunned, saddened, and angered, Aragorn forced himself to speak in a normal tone."A bold statement, Boromir. And I suppose you see yourself as more fit?"
Nevada's eyes widened, and she hissed in a breath, clenched her hand into a fist in her lap. She could not believe what she was hearing! She was so insulted, it was all she could to sit there and not kill them both. She seethed quietly over the conversation, willing herself to be reminded that they were stupid men and the Ring was making them more argumentative than normal.
Legolas looked disturbed at the topic of their argument, as well, and he saw how much it angered Nevada. Giving her arm a quick pat of reassurance, he stayed quiet to hear more and judge whether or not it would be wise to intervene before someone broke the thin ice the Men were treading on.
"I do not, by any means, consider myself worthy, but I am astute enough to realize now that, as Mortals, neither of us stand a chance."
I want to kill him, Nev thought. No, I want to kill them both. I want to end their pointless existences in the most painful way possible. Valar keep me from grabbing my sword and being done with it! She was so enraged and offended by their words, she could hardly look at them. She could hardly look at Legolas, either; somehow, it was almost degrading to hear herself being spoke of in such a manner, as if she were a delectable, unattainable prize. It was disgusting, and her respect of both men was going down dramatically.
"You speak of her as if she were a pretty thing to be won." The disdain in Aragorn's voice, however, made Nevada pause in her plans of maiming."Nevada deserves and has earned more respect than that. If you want to argue about such a petty thing -"
"A petty thing that has blinded your judgement and emotion," Boromir interrupted maddeningly."I see how you look at her, for it is the same way I used to look upon her. She is a Faerie, Aragorn - she will never accept you the way you want her to."When Aragorn began shaking his head, Boromir continued,"Do not deny it, Aragorn! Your actions speak a louder contrast to your words. You have allowed yourself to fall too far, and you know what will happen. You will grow old as we all do, and she will stay young and beautiful. Face it, Aragorn - you are deluding yourself as I did. She will never lower herself like that - she is far above you or -"
"Enough!"
Aragorn and Nevada spoke it at the same time. Aragorn's furious expression changed when he heard the higher voice say it with him, and both him and Boromir instantly paled. Nevada jerked her hand away from Legolas, and stalked over to them with Legolas close behind. He couldn't leave the three alone without fear of bloodshed.
"I want nothing more than to slap the both of you like the quarreling little boys you are!" Nevada snapped, glaring at them both with hot, vivid violet eyes."I could not help but overhear your not-so-subtle argument, and what I heard made me want to vomit. This argument has been disgusting and humiliating above all else!" Boromir opened his mouth to speak, but Nevada held up her hand to his face."You shut up until I'm finished! I put up with a lot of shit over my gender and warfare, and most I'm able to shrug off. I know how capable I am. But when I find myself in the center of a tug of war between two idiotic men over my affections - and you completely delude yourselves if you think there are any - it pisses me off. I didn't come on this quest to participate in a courting service between two Humans - I came to do my part in protecting a certain Hobbit over there who, thank the Valar, is sleeping through this shameful argument! I am so mad right now, I could kick your asses!"
"Nevada -" Aragorn began, his eyes full of apology and regret.
"I don't want to hear it," Nevada warned him in a low voice."I can't even begin to express how angry and disappointed I am right now. If this is how you talk about me when I'm not around, I want nothing to do with either of you. Our main purpose is to get Frodo where he needs to go, and it ends there. This ridiculous argument is over, and when I walk away, I don't want either of you to come near me. I will skin the person alive who bothers me until tomorrow. I . . ."Nevada shook her head, trying to think clearly under the haze of fury and hurt clouding her mind."I can't even look at you right now." She turned around and walked off quickly.
Legolas stayed where he was, and turned his grayish blue eyes to the speechless Men. His gaze was unreadable, but he radiated disappointment and irritation. For a moment it looked as if he were about to speak, but then he hesitated. The Elf gave them one last look each; an intense look of censure, before finally shaking his head slowly and walking away.
