PART ONE: ANACHRONISM

Chapter XXXI: The Breaking

"Ana, stop crying! Who's dead?" Nick was frantic. He kept trying to hug me and pull me to my feet all at the same time.

I couldn't move. Tears flowed freely, and my entire body was wracked with sobs. I felt like collapsing to the ground and curling up in a ball and never standing up again. Standing was too difficult, too impossible. I couldn't do it. Not ever again. I was just going to sit on the sidewalk and cry until the world melted away and there was no more pain.

People were staring. They actually stopped in their tracks, taking time out of their visit to the zoo, to stare at the weeping girl. I didn't care. The hobbits were dead. Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin. The Ring was lost. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

"Ana." This was not Nick's voice. It was deeper and calmer, and there was tone of sympathy.

Two strong arms picked me up from the ground and placed me in a standing position. I stared up at Boromir, and he stared back down at me, his face grave. He had a stubborn jaw, firm gaze, and not even a quiver of fear. I, on the other hand, was shaking. My hands would not stay still. My lips were trembling, my voice wavered, every inch of me was filled with the pale touch of fear.

"They were dead," I said, clutching Boromir's forearms. "Merry, Pippin, Sam, Frodo… The orcs killed them. The orcs killed them and took the Ring."

"How could this happen?" asked Boromir.

The tears tasted like salt, burning the corners of my mouth. I swallowed and found that I could only speak in a hoarse whisper. "Because you were not there to protect them."

Boromir closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt so far away. I couldn't reach him. There were things that he understood, things like valor, honor, and sacrifice that I could never comprehend. And even as I held him, the palms of my hands touching his arms, the distance between us was too great.

Boromir opened his eyes. They were filled with resolve.

"I have to go back," he said. "You know it to be true, Ana. I have to die."

The car ride home was silent. Nick drove, and for once in his life, he didn't drive like a maniac. Karen sat beside him, her head bowed. The radio was off and the only sound was that of cars and trucks racing past us on the highway. Boromir and I sat in the backseat of the car on opposite sides as far apart as we could get. We didn't look at each other. Boromir kept his gaze fixed firmly out the window at the city. I stared at the floor of the car, counting the lint balls that had gathered on the carpet.

It seems silly now, as I look back on all that I've been through, but I remember silently praying to the Skip. Never let me feel this pain again. Never. I only wanted a happy life. I wanted to go to school. I wanted to get a job. I wanted to marry a cute guy and grow old with him. I didn't want this. I didn't want to spend my life Skipping back and forth between the worlds. I didn't want to meet these people and know their fates. I just wanted to be left alone.

And yet, there I was. Face to face with the consequences of saving a life.

Boromir was meant to die. By his death, the hobbits were saved. And the hobbits needed to survive for the sake of Middle Earth. I couldn't change that. Middle Earth was more important. More important than any individual life. But still. It meant that Boromir had to die for the sake of saving Middle Earth.

Maybe I could still save him, I thought. Maybe I could arm him with a gun or something. Guns would certainly help deal with the orcs. But I couldn't bring myself to do that. Middle Earth was its own world. Its fate was its own. I couldn't bring technology from this world to solve Middle Earth's problems. Maybe if I Skipped him to the right time… except I had no control over the Skips. Maybe… I don't know. But I had to try something. I had to find a way. Boromir wasn't going to die. I promised Faramir that I would save Boromir, even if it meant abandoning Middle Earth to its fate. I promised. I promised. I promised…

Never again.

I need you to understand. You of all people need to know what I went through, how much that one hope kept me going, the hope that I would never feel this pain again, that my chest would never be torn in half by my need to keep my precious people alive and my need to keep Middle Earth alive.

You know, they say that the greatest sacrifice you can make is to give yourself for the sake of another. But I know that to be bullshit. The greatest sacrifice I've ever made is to willingly and knowingly sacrifice someone I love for the sake of a greater world.

That car ride back to my apartment had been the most exhausting and emotional car ride of my life.

"We can stop at Starbucks." Nick's voice cracked through the silence of the car, and we all jumped in our seats.

"What?" My voice came out a deep croak.

"Starbucks," said Nick. "There's one on the way back to your apartment. Do you want some coffee?"

I blinked. "Coffee?"

"It is that disgusting black substance that you enjoy for some reason that I cannot fathom," said Boromir.

"I know what coffee is. Why would I want…" I trailed off. I could hear the earnestness in Nick's voice. And Boromir was watching at me. There was a faint smile at his lips, but when I met his gaze, I saw the turmoil behind his eyes. He was forcing a smile for my sake, trying to make everything seem all right when, in reality, there was no possible way that things could be all right.

Somehow, through sheer willpower, I managed to say, "Coffee sounds good."

A couple minutes later, Nick pulled into the drive-through outside of Starbucks. "What does everyone want?"

"Mocha cappuccino," said Karen without hesitation.

"I want that hot sweet drink that you purchased for me last time," said Boromir.

"Hot chocolate?" asked Nick.

"Yes."

"Seriously?" said Karen, turning around in her seat. "What planet are you from?"

"I am from Gondor."

Karen stared at him for a second and then said, "Gondor? Never heard of it."

Boromir opened his mouth to explain to her the long and proud history of Gondor, but I prodded him in the ribs. I smiled at him. He stopped himself before he began lecturing Karen and grinned back at me.

Nick rolled the car forward to the black speaker and told the Starbucks employee our order. (Nick was treating—I loved it when he treated.) We got our drinks from the window, and on the way home, Nick turned on the country music station, so Karen and I spent the rest of the car ride begging him to change it. (She really was growing on me.)

The peace that we had worked so hard to build in the car shattered the moment Nick turned off the car outside my apartment building.

"Here," murmured Nick.

Through the dirtied window, I stared up at the six-story building. I could see the concrete ledge of the roof, a hard line against the blue sky.

"Let's go."

Karen pushed open the car door and everyone followed her lead. It felt as though Karen was pushing us forward, driving us to do what was necessary. The rest of us didn't want to take a step closer to the apartment building, but she pushed onward, taking each painful step for us. She led the way up the five flights of stairs and to the door of my apartment. I stared at the lock for a good minute before Karen reminded me that the door was not going to open itself. I unlocked the door and we stepped inside the small, cramped living space.

"I call bathroom," said Nick. He glanced at me nervously before heading to the back room.

"What should I do with my cup?" asked Boromir.

"Ana, you need to clean your apartment," said Karen, glancing around my messy living room.

I stared at them for a long moment. Mainly at Boromir. He stood in the kitchen doorway, holding his empty Starbucks cup, waiting for my answer.

"Trashcan." I was amazed the word came out at all.

Karen glanced at me and then took it upon herself to start cleaning my apartment. She threw my dirty clothes (and my clean clothes) that were lying on the floor into the laundry basket and placed the stray books on the bookshelves (even putting them in alphabetical order).

I watched her as the tears started to well up in my eyes. I tried to wipe them away with the back of my hand, but they just kept coming back.

"Ana." Boromir stepped forward. "Do not cry."

Karen looked up, her eyes flickering from me to Boromir. Then, she quickly busied herself with cleaning again.

"You don't have to go," I said. "You can stay here and get a job and start a new life. I'll let you live with me even though you don't like coffee. We can just forget. We can just forget about Middle Earth and never think about it again. You don't have to go back."

Boromir placed his hands on my shoulders. "You cannot forget about Middle Earth. You say that now, but you will only Skip there and witness the destruction my absence has caused."

"I'll be fine." My nose was dripping with tears and snot. "You don't have to go back."

"I cannot forget about Middle Earth either," said Boromir. "My people depend on the fate of the Ring. I cannot abandon my father, my brother, and my city. I cannot abandon the Fellowship for some selfish desire to live."

"No one will blame you."

"I have to return."

I didn't even bother to voice my protests after that. I just stood there, crying. I didn't even care how ugly I must've looked right then with tears and snot running down my face. All I could do was cry. There were so many things I wanted to say, so many things I wanted to change. And yet, I didn't have the power to change them.

"Don't leave me," I murmured uselessly. "Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me."

Boromir wrapped his arms around my shoulders, and I buried my face in his chest.

Right then, Nick emerged from the bathroom and saw me crying in Boromir's arms. Slowly, Nick turned to Karen and muttered, "I was gone for three minutes, and she has a meltdown?"

Karen shook her head and moved to rest her head on Nick's shoulder. He hugged her, and they stood there silently, watching me weep unreservedly. Boromir might have been crying too. I don't know. I couldn't see.

What could we say? What could I say? What could Boromir say? He had made up his mind. I could not change it. And, despite my endless protests, I probably would have eventually convinced Boromir to return to Middle Earth if he had refused to go. There are some things that are greater than any individual person. I knew that even if I didn't want to admit it.

"We should depart now," said Boromir.

"Now?" I asked. Nick passed me a box of tissues, and I wiped my face.

Boromir smiled. "I do not think I will have the heart to return if we wait too long."

Oh my God, I think that only made me cry harder.

I got a shower first and changed into more comfortable clothes. I made sure the Sword Breaker was tucked into my brown riding boots before I walked back out into the living room. Nick and Karen were sitting on the couch. Karen's head was resting on Nick's shoulder and they were holding hands. Boromir, still dressed in his armor, was pacing about the room, his head bent and his gazed fixed somewhere beyond the walls of my cramped apartment.

He looked up as I entered the room. "Are you prepared?"

"You know, I didn't water the begonias today." I turned around and headed for the porch.

Boromir caught me by the arm and rolled his eyes. "You are prepared."

"But the begonias…"

"I'll water them," said Karen kindly.

Nick shook his head. "She doesn't have any begonias."

"Oh."

I shot a venomous glare at Nick before I turned to face Boromir. The next words took all my courage to say, "I'm ready."

Boromir nodded once. "How do we Skip?"

"I usually…" I took a deep, shaky breath. "I usually just wait for it to—you know—happen, but there's a way to force myself to Skip."

"And what is that way?" asked Boromir.

I opened my mouth to tell him but found that no sound would come out. I tried again and failed again. Finally, I took Boromir by the hand and led him out of the apartment. Nick made to follow, but Karen caught him by the arm and shook her head, for which I was grateful. Karen was cool and someone I would want to be friends with, I realized as I let the door close behind me.

Slowly, step by step, I led Boromir up the stairs to the roof of my apartment building. There wasn't a cloud in the sky as the afternoon sun shone down on us.

"We have to jump," I said.

Boromir stared at me. "What?"

"We have to jump off the roof," I said. "I Skip whenever my life is in danger."

Boromir inched towards the ledge and peered down. He turned to me and said, "Are you sure?"

I nodded.

"Are you not afraid of heights?" he asked.

"It's the only way."

Boromir glanced down the ledge again. "Are you sure this is not the reason you are afraid of heights?"

"Maybe it is."

Boromir stared at me. "I am sorry."

"For what?" My voice was flat and emotionless.

"Ana."

I was crying again. "You're the best friend I could ever have, you know that, right? And every second we spent together was one of the best things that could ever have happened to me. Even the times when I was drunk and I can't remember what happened. You're my best friend, and I don't want you to die."

Boromir swallowed. "I must."

"And that sucks!"

I sprinted forward and flung my arms around Boromir's neck in a massive hug, the force of which knocked Boromir and me backwards off the roof of the building. The air rippled around us as we plummeted downwards—and then, we Skipped.

We were lying on the forest floor surrounded by tree roots and crisp, brown leaves. The naked, autumn trees towered over us, their spindly branches forming a sort of spider web across the pure, blue sky.

"Where are we?" asked Boromir, sitting up.

I looked around and a feeling of disappointment and horror settled in my stomach. It was happening to fast. I'd thought we'd Skip around a bit first, that it'd take awhile to return to this time and place. I'd thought I'd have more time with him, more laughs, maybe a couple more drinks. It was too soon, this place. We'd come here too soon. I wasn't ready. I couldn't do it.

"Amon Hen," I said. "This is the forest where you tried to take the Ring from Frodo."

"We have returned, then." Boromir got to his feet, brushing some leaves off his back. "Can you Skip back to your world?"

I shook my head. "I have no control. Besides, I want to see the end."

Boromir glanced over his shoulder at me. "You will cry."

"I'm always crying these days."

"I would rather you did not see."

"I want to."

"You—"

In one lightning-quick movement, Boromir drew his sword from its sheath. He pushed me aside with one arm and shoved the blade through the chest of an orc. I stood there, gasping as I stared at the deformed, bluish-gray face of the orc. His white eyes grew and shrunk as he let of a high pitched squeal. Then, his body shuddered and he collapsed at Boromir's feet.

"Orcs," said Boromir. "Where there is one, many more are sure to follow."

And then, we heard a scream.

Boromir and I turned in the direction of the cry, and through the trees we could see the shadows of orcs and two small figures sprinting through the forest. Merry and Pippin were being chased by orcs.

Do not hate me. Please, I could not bear it if you were to hate me. But when I started writing this, I swore I would be honest (with the occasional embellishment), so I will tell you what I thought at that moment. I will tell you that when I saw Merry and Pippin fleeing through the forest, the first thought that ran through my mind was "Let them run; don't go and save them." This thought was the image of their corpses, so bloodied and managed that they were almost unrecognizable. Then I heard Faramir's voice telling me that Boromir was dead. And then I saw the reality—Boromir sprinting after Merry and Pippin, his sword drawn and the expression of a man about to die on his proud face.

I took and deep, shattering breath and sprinted after Boromir.

Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't do it.

Boromir swung his sword and sliced off the head of the nearest orc. The other orcs came to a halt and turned to face Boromir.

I clasped my hands over my mouth.

Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't do it.

The first orc lunged to Boromir. Boromir blocked the attack and ran his blade through the orc's stomach. Purple blood splattered everywhere, but Boromir ignored the mess and swung his blade upwards to meet the blade of another orc.

Maybe Boromir would live.

The orcs kept coming, and he kept killing them. Soon there was a pile of orc corpses at his feet.

"Boromir! Ana, look out!

I spun around to see Merry and Pippin sprinting to the forest. A train of orcs followed behind them. The hobbits rushed to my side, grabbing my arms and trying to drag me along with them. I could only stare at the seven or eight orcs that were swiftly approaching, their teeth and weapons beared in front of them.

There were more of them. More of them for Boromir to fight. Was the line of orcs never ending?

The closest orc drew his sword high above his head. He stared at me, his red eyes flashing with the lust of battle. He was going to kill me. He was going to cleave me into two pieces. I could see it in his bloody eyes.

"Ana, watch out!"

Boromir leapt forward and drove his sword into the orc's chest. The orc let out high-pitched scream as Boromir wrenched the sword out of the orc's torso and turned to stab another orc in the thigh.

"Ana, do not just stand there!" roared Boromir.

I blinked and then pulled the Sword Breaker out of my boot. I spun around just in time to see an orc bringing his blade down. I lifted the Sword Breaker, caught the orc's blade between the teeth, and twisted. The blade flew free of the orc's hand and went skirting across the forest floor.

My mind went blank. I had never gotten this far before. But I didn't want to die. And I didn't want Boromir to fight all these orcs by himself. I had to do something, anything.

I lunged forward. The blade of the Sword Breaker buried itself in the orc's throat. Purple blood splattered my face as I yanked the Sword Breaker out. The orc gagged on its own blood before staggering forward and collapsing at my feet.

I stumbled backwards, clutching the Sword Breaker to my chest. I had just killed someone. It may have been a vile orc, but I had killed a living, breathing thing. Oh God. It was one thing to watch others kill and completely different to do it myself.

"Look out!" screamed Merry.

Another orc rushed towards me, sword raised. I lifted the Sword Breaker and, twisting, wrenched the blade from the orc's hands. Then. I turned a ran away. I couldn't bear to do it. Not again.

Merry and Pippin were using their daggers to fight an orc. I rushed to their side, ducking the orc's flailing fists. They managed to slay the orc, stabbing it in the leg and then the abdomen, but it was quickly replaced by another.

Boromir was doing most of the work. His sword flashed in all directions, killing orcs left and right. And yet, he was making no difference in their numbers. The orcs just kept coming.

Boromir drew out his horn and let out two long, loud belows.

More orcs came. One blade nicked my shoulder, and I cried out in pain as blood dripped from the wound. Boromir leapt forward and sliced off the orc's hand. I couldn't bring myself to drive the blade through the orc's chest, and because of that, Boromir kept having to rescue me.

I clutched the Sword Breaker; I could not be the reason Boromir died. I couldn't be this weak. I had to fight. No matter how many orcs I had to kill. No matter how awful it made me feel. This was my life. This was my friends' lives. I had to fight.

But even as I resolved myself to kill, I was completely useless. I tried. I tried to fight, but every time it seemed as though Boromir needed to step in to save me.

More orcs and more orcs. They kept coming. Boromir blew the horn again. Nothing. More orcs. More orcs. More orcs. Where were Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli? Why weren't they helping? Just orcs. Orcs. Orcs. Orcs. We were trying so hard. All of us. Boromir, Merry, Pippin, and me. We just wanted to live. And yet, there were so many orcs. And they just wanted us to die.

An arrow.

That's what I remember.

A long, heavy, black arrow pierced through the air and embedded itself in Boromir's chest.

His eyes grew very wide, and he staggered backwards. His legs gave out beneath him.

I screamed.

I remember thinking that it was over. That was it. He was done. I'd lost my best friend in Middle Earth.

But Boromir stood up again, gripping the handle of his sword so tightly that his fingers turned white. He swung the blade and took off the head of another orc. The orc's blood sprayed the fallen leaves at Boromir's feet.

A second arrow.

If I hadn't see it embedded in Boromir's abdomen, I would have though the arrow had pierced me instead. It hurt. It hurt so much.

Boromir collapsed to his knees. He took two shaking breaths before standing up again. He blocked a blade aimed at his head and then drove his sword through the orc's heart.

A third arrow.

I had stopped moving. I think the world had stopped moving. The orcs seemed not to notice me or the hobbits anymore. Everything was focused on Boromir and the three black arrows protruding from his chest.

A fourth arrow.

Boromir could not stand up anymore. The orcs scooped up Merry and Pippin and slung the hobbits over their shoulders. I barely noticed. My eyes were fixed on Boromir.

The massive orc bearing the bow stepped forward until he was only a few feet away from Boromir. I wanted to scream, to do something, to stop the inevitable from happening. But I couldn't. This was what was supposed to happen. Boromir was supposed to die, and the orcs would try to take Merry and Pippin to Isengard. This was meant to happen. But it hurt so much.

The orc drew the bow, the black arrow directed at Boromir.

Boromir stared up at the orc bearing the white hand of Saruman. There was no hesitation in Boromir's eyes. His proud determination would not budge an inch. He knew what was going to happen next, and he accepted it.

The orc released the arrow.

Blood stained the forest floor.

I Skipped.

Please, never let me feel such pain again.