::: Chapter 8 ::: Alles Klar, Herr Kommissar?

a/n: what's the adage? if you don't have anything constructive to say, please don't bother saying anything at all? yes, that's it. you know who you are. anyway, for the rest of you kind souls, please enjoy~

"You WOMAN, yourself, you damn elbow waffle."

The first meeting with Boromir had (predictably) not gone without a hitch.

And here I thought it would go well—how naïve I had been. How could I have thought a racist, pigheaded, irritating, hecking—misogynist! Would've been an interesting and multilayered person?! He's like an ogre—and an onion, only without the layers! A huge ball of stinking, bigoted, foolish—! Just, Argh!

For recap: when Boromir arrived, I was excited! I really thought his character was interesting and wanted to meet him! Turns out, he's just a jerk.

Immediately upon meeting me, in all my newly clothed and bathed splendor, he displayed his misogynistic side (and can I mention that I almost forgot I was a woman? Weird). Then he followed up with a racist attack—apparently I look like a Rohirrim, which, cool, that's totally kickass, but he's Gondorian. Which seems to mean he's superior to me in looks, and skills, and looks.

But hey, turns out he's not only racist, he's speciesist too! Whoooo. So maybe I can commiserate with Leggy later. I just hope the hobbits will be okay because they look a bit like human children. I hope.

For now I'll express my disgust through the ancient and noble art of stomping off in a huff like a child. I am perfectly mature, thank you very much. So very mature that I stuck my tongue out at the stupid Gondorian undoubtedly irritating Elrond in the courtyard below me, and couldn't resist the angry wall-kick synonymous with righteous teenage indignation everywhere.

Only it wasn't a wall that I kicked. It was a pile of stones—being used to make a wall, sure,—but they weren't in the wall yet, so they were just laying around, loose. Now each of these stones was about the size of my head, and they looked pretty firmly piled together there. I really didn't expect them to shift. Or roll. Or fall right off the balcony down to the courtyard below, with barely a rumble of stone.

There wasn't a sound when they fell, but there sure was one when they impacted.

A crunch, a scream, and a thud.

There was a moment of silence, then pandemonium.

"Lord Boromir!" "Valar!" "Who's up there!?"

Tentatively, I peaked over the balcony, only to abruptly pull away from it and turn around to heave in the corner. Needless to say, it wasn't pretty.

"You murdered Lord Boromir!"

Then there were hands on my arms, I was being dragged, a jangle of keys, a creak, I was tossed—

Dark.

All I could think as I sat in that cell, probably to spend the rest of my life there, for the murder of a foreign dignitary who was also a Lord, was not, surprisingly, something like Shit, I Fucked Up, Oh my God I just killed someone, or even What am I going to tell Faramir? No, no. It was, in fact: So he really is Sean Bean.

a/n: so. that just happened. expect another update next thrusday.