"I wouldn't trade it for anything, never, no. Never. Your friendship is the best present ever."
-Tigger, Winnie the Pooh
"Grab your shield and whatever else you think you need to drag with you. We're going to Edoras." Amelia pulled on her white shirt with clumsy movements, not caring about the slatternly splotch of blood on it, gently lifting her left arm through the sleeve, but she stuffed her coat and torn sweater into her backpack, which she carried on her back, beneath the cloak. Aeglos hung in its sheath and she had fastened the cloak from Lothlórien around her neck. Boromir was watching her with his shield on his back and a frown on his brow. Amelia rolled her eyes at his expression. "Don't worry. I know I shouldn't be going for a cross-country sprint right of the bat. We'll take it slow. I mean, I kind of have to. I can barely stand." Satisfied, Boromir turned away to glare into the woods, as if they had caused him personal offense. Amelia grunted as she adjusted her backpack on her right shoulder, trying to make it as easy for her injured one as possible.
"We could make for Gondor." Boromir suggested hesitantly, as if he was afraid he would spook her. Amelia sighed, knowing that, for the first time, the reasoning behind his suggestion wasn't entirely faulty.
"I know and I actually considered the possibility, but if Faramir doesn't…" She abruptly held her tongue, but the damage had been done. Boromir's eyes flared in alarm and he took a step closer.
"What do you know of my brother?"
"Nothing." Amelia chipped and Boromir's eyes narrowed. She groaned. "It's a future-thing… You know what, screw it." She sighed and looked up. "Why do you think I followed you into the woods to begin with? You were kind of supposed to die in there, buddy." The confession left her nervous, but Boromir nodded, as if he had guessed that long before she had told him. "Your brother… Wait, let me start over. You died. Then, they threw you in a boat and sent it out over the waterfall."
"Why would the orcs…"
"It wasn't the orcs, idiot. The others didn't exactly have time for a fancy funeral here, in the middle of nowhere, but anyways, you floated on your merry way down the river, don't ask me how you managed to stay in your dinghy all serene and dead when it literally went over a waterfall 'cause I have no idea, but Faramir was standing out in the river for some reason, just kind of chilling, but then you floated by and yeah… So that's that." Amelia trailed off, realizing that what she was saying sounded like pure insanity.
"And how would you know of this?" Boromir sounded like he thought she had lost all sense.
"Well, shit, I can't answer that, but I kind of took an arrow for you and your ass, so is it too much to ask you to trust me on this one?" Boromir didn't answer. "Anyways, if Faramir doesn't see you on your happy little cruise towards the sea, thinks might not go to shit in Gondor. However, things most definitely will go to shit in Rohan and…" Amelia considered telling him about Gandalf the White, but decided against it. "There's someone we should meet there. Don't expect a warm welcome though."
"You are asking me to take much on faith." Boromir interrupted her chatter.
"I know." She simple answered and stopped in front of him, resting her hand on her sword. The other hung limply at her side. She looked him in the eyes, attempting to appear as sincere as she could manage while she was close to keeling over. "And if you don't feel like tagging along, I won't force you. Sure, I'll probably get pissed, but I won't stop you from going to Gondor. I'm asking, not demanding you come with me, but I'd be glad if you did." Boromir looked down, avoiding her eyes and she sighed, going to the heart of the matter. "You're generally a remarkable man, Boromir. Strong. Tough. Even smart, and don't you dare quote me on that. Stick with me, and you might yet become a good one too."
"You do me too much honor." He said bitterly and turned away. Amelia's shoulders sagged slightly. "I have failed."
"Whether you failed or not is irrelevant and right now, I don't care about it." She snapped, her patience wearing thin. "If you failed, you have a chance to make things right. If you didn't, yay. Either way, I'm going to Edoras. You can come along or go home, but don't make me regret taking that arrow for you, because that hurt like a bitch." Impatiently, she awaited his answer, for she had never been a woman of patience. The son of Gondor ran a hand through his hair, then turned to face her again.
"You would have lain down your life for mine. I can only hope to live up to the deed." He answered and Amelia cocked her head.
"I'll assume that means that you'll come along. Great. To Edoras it is." She brushed past him, dizzy and wobbly, still with no clue as to whether she was heading in the right direction.
"To Edoras it is." He mumbled and followed her into the woods, away from the white boats abandoned on the shore.
Amelia had to admit that her injury had taken more out of her than she had anticipated. The blood loss she still suffered from made her sluggish and slow, but Boromir waited patiently for her when she had to take a break. The two walked in silence, at a steady, calm pace, following another route than the one Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli had taken. Whereas they had immediately had to go southwest, Boromir and Amelia walked west as best they could with no map or compass to guide them, only their own memory and sense of direction.
"Just so you know…" Amelia called as Boromir walked up a slope covered in leaves in the late afternoon. "I am completely and absolutely relying on your skill at geography. My sense of direction is about as good as a paper plane's."
"I assume that means that you're not well-versed in these lands, then?" Amelia finally reached him and he held out a hand to steady her when she wobbled slightly. "We can rest if you are in need of it."
"That's real nice of you, but I'd like to get out of this forest before it gets dark. Place gives me the creeps." Boromir raised his eyebrows. "What?"
"These woods stretch for miles yet. Even had we good horses, we would not reach the end of them today." Amelia groaned.
"Brilliant. All we need is for lightning to strike down at us from above and the day's just perfect." Distant thunder rumbled and Amelia craned her head back. "That was not a challenge!"
As opposed to Amelia's assumption, lightning did not strike them down, but dark rainclouds reached them as the light grew dim, moving northeast, and it began to pour down, wetting the earth and making the smell of water and plants rise up from the soil. Amelia pulled up the hood of her cloak, as did her companion, and they continued for yet another while before Boromir held her back as they reached the top of yet another hill.
"We must find shelter and you need your rest. I am no healer, but I know enough of battles and blood to know that you have lost a lot and need to rest." Amelia snorted at him.
"You guys always speak so… so grandly. Anyways, yeah, you're probably right, I might be desperate for a bath, but not so much that I'll grab a bar of soap and strip here and now, even though I probably could in this rotten weather." Finding the aforementioned shelter was, however, easier said rather than done. They continued for yet another hour before they finally happened upon an old, ruined bridge, covered in climbing vines and moss, but it did offer some sparse shelter from the heavy rain. The weather made them both irritable and thus, they did not speak as they settled beneath the bridge, waiting for the watermasses to pass them by. Lighting a fire was hopeless before they tried at all and thus they did not try, but instead pulled their cloaks closer around themselves.
In the fading daylight, Amelia studied Cilya, the ring on her finger, gifted to her by the Lady Galadriel as she departed Lothlórien, and it seemed to glow under her attention. She reached out, traced the gemstones, and smiled slightly to herself at the memory of Lórien and its light, before she was reminded of her circumstances by the sound of rain and the distant Rauros, and her face soured once again.
"Why did you do it?" Boromir suddenly asked and her eyes snapped to him.
"Did what?" She asked, even though she was fully aware of what he was asking her to answer.
"Why did you jump in front of me? The shot could have felled me and no one would have been any the wiser." Boromir's logic made sense. Amelia had asked herself the same question without reaching a clear conclusion, but perhaps airing and sharing her thoughts would lead her to it, since she was unable to do so herself.
"I don't know. I guess I didn't consider my own mortality." Boromir nodded with a thoughtful, grave expression, as if he understood all too well what she was talking about. "I have a habit of talking before I think. Maybe that applies to fighting as well, that I don't really think about what I'm doing before it's too late."
"So it was not deliberate then?" He didn't sound angry about that, which spurred Amelia on.
"No, I did… think about it, just not when I actually had to choose whether to do it or not. I just did. It's difficult to explain and I'm still wondering whether it was the right decision. But whatever. What's done is done." She briefly toyed with the idea of stabbing Boromir to death and making a break for it, but then decided that that would be a distinctly bad idea, since Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli had all seen him alive already. "I suppose I'll find out whether I made the right choice."
"How?"
"Well, everything I hope for either goes up in smoke or we make it through and I get to go home. I think that'll make it pretty clear whether I messed up or not." Boromir looked away from her.
"Your path is set then?"
"Yes. This has been great and all, but… I've got family, friends back home. No way am I leaving them wondering where I am for the rest of their lives."
"It will be difficult to return, now that Gandalf is gone." Amelia grinned mysteriously at him and stretched.
"That's most of the reason why we're heading to Edoras. My friend there will be able to help with that."
"You're sure about this?"
"Positive. Now, didn't you say I needed my rest? Well, now I'm saying it back. I'll try to get some sleep."
"You certainly are a stubborn woman."
"So I've been told. You have the same problem. Being stubborn, I mean, not a woman, though I will absolutely deck you if you say that that is as much of a problem as being stubborn. Now shut it and let me sleep without chatting my ear off."
"As you wish." The rest of their rest passed in silence, though it was not of the heavy or awkward sort, but rather the silence that arises when all one wishes to say have been said and there is nothing left but a companionable calmness.
Amelia jerked awake for the second time and lay still for a long moment, listening to see what had woken her, but since nothing came to mind, she assumed that it was another case of a forgotten nightmare and she sat up, her hair messy from sleep and her eyes bleary. She yawned and, as she sat up, she heard the sound of a singing blackbird. The morning sunlight was filtering through the treetops and a light mist was in the air. She glanced over to see Boromir sitting up, asleep against his pack and shield, and, like on her first night spent with the Fellowship of the Ring, she noticed that sleep eased the lines of worry on his head and made him look much younger.
He stirred moments later, no doubt feeling her eyes on him, and she cast her gaze away, embracing her knees and looking away.
"Good morning." Her voice was as neutral and nonchalant as she could make it. They shared a piece of lembas for breakfast, without much talk being exchanged. Then, they picked up their packs and were on their way again.
"At this pace, we ought to reach the capital of Rohan little more than a week's time." Amelia tried to remember on which dates certain events had occurred, but found that, while she could remember the events to great detail, specific dates were much harder to remember.
"Sounds… good, I think?" Amelia nevertheless walked faster, feeling much better after sleeping for hours, despite waking up twice in the night. "There's the slight problem of my 'friend' only being in town for a specific number of days and he doesn't know we're coming. I hope we get to him in time, but if not, I'll hunt him down with a lasso if need be."
"Such strange words you say." Boromir looked like he was close to smiling at her, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"You ought to be used to it by now. I mean, you've been subject to my language for months now."
"I don't think I'll ever quite get used to you." The words surprised Amelia pleasantly and her mouth curled upwards at his words.
"I'm going to take that as a compliment. Enjoy it while it lasts. I'll be out of your hair in less than a month." Boromir looked surprised at her declaration, but then his face turned contemplative.
"Then all of this will be over in but a few weeks' time." Amelia realized what she had said and made a mental note to be a little less conclusive with Boromir in her plans. "For better or for worse."
They walked on in silence and the day went much like the previous one, except that Amelia didn't need to stop to rest nearly so often and no rain passed overhead. Then, to pass the time, Amelia started to talk.
"It occurs to me that I don't actually know much about you." She started off with a blunt lie. She knew so much about him that it was bordering on improper, but she had yet to hear much of it from his own tongue and found that she desired it to be so, instead of working with knowledge she had gained from reading a book months ago.
"And whatever would you want to know?"
"Well, shoot, I don't know. I'm horrible at making friends and… what do you call it? Small talk?"
"Small talk?"
"Idle chatter to pass the time. So, I don't know… I know where you're from, since it's difficult to get you to shut up about it, but you haven't told me much of your family or your… what's that word… position as the Steward's son?" Boromir sighed at her insistence as they jumped over a log covered in moss. The forest undergrowth had grown more dense, but it was farther between the trees.
"I am called Boromir, son of Denethor, the ruling Steward of Gondor. I was born in the year of 2978, in the white city of Minas Tirith, the capital of the realm." Amelia did some hasty math.
"So you're either forty or forty-one, depending on whether you've had a birthday yet. Okay. What about your brother?" Boromir looked a bit confused.
"Most people I have met tend to ask me about my father."
"Yeah, well, I'm not most people and besides, I probably wouldn't, since we don't have nobility and kings and whatnot where I come from. To me, titles and all that doesn't really mean anything."
"I see. And what would you ask of my brother? You already seem to know a great deal about him." The slight reminder of her flop on the waterbank made her grimace slightly.
"It's one thing to just know something the way I do and another to actually find out. I'm curious. Indulge me." There was a bit of a silence, but then Boromir spoke again. His words were a bit awkward and stilted, but Amelia ignored at and his words flowed better the longer he talked.
"My brother, Faramir, is five years younger than me. I have been told that we look alike, but I do not see it. He is strong of heart and studious of mind, but our father tends to be harsh on him and soft on myself."
"So he favors you." Amelia wasn't one for dancing around the matter. "From what you've told me, I can guess that he has taken more to reading and history than swords and lording around." She gave him a pointed look as she spoke.
"That would be a correct assumption." Boromir didn't seem to pick up on her insinuation.
"Hm." Amelia thought about that for a few seconds. She knew that Denethor's favoring of Boromir had never been a point of his death. "Well, that's that. What about Minas Tirith? I've never been there and you're the best one around to tell me what it's like." Boromir's eyes lit up and his voice got a touch of reverent awe in it.
"I have yet to see a city that could compete with its glory." He answered with a soft expression that made Amelia smile at him as they walked down a slope. "Her white walls are sturdy and her soul is strong and valiant, like those of her sons and daughters. Long has she stood against the spawn of Mordor."
"You speak about the city as if it's a person." Amelia remarked and Boromir nodded. "As if it has a life of its own. Sure sounds more interesting than what I'm used to. Our cities are big and noisy, full of technology," Her face twisted, "But what they gained in efficiency they lost in soul."
They continued onwards as Boromir told her of the grey pennants on the rooftops, the white tree in the courtyard and the silver trumpets that would surely welcome them home upon his return. He told her of the ever flowing fountains, of the sound of wind chimes carried on the breeze in the spring and the sunlight shining in the metal of the fine armor of the guards of Gondor. Amelia listened attentively, not interrupting for any other purpose than to ask a question, and she wondered when such adoration of one's homeland had disappeared from her own home and twisted into a longing to leave it and see more of the world, when one's place of birth had become known as dreary instead of a proud testament of culture and capability.
That evening, they managed to light a fire to keep them warm and to feel the heat at last was like stepping down into a warm bath for Amelia. Her tense and tired muscles loosened and she stretched like a cat, content to lie on the ground, with her back against her backpack and her coat pulled over her, an improvised duvet. She glanced up at the stars able to be peeked through the trees.
"It's strange what you miss when you're away from home." She thought aloud to no one in particular, not caring as to whether Boromir heard her or not, even though he did. "I miss my stars and my moon. Mostly at night." She didn't say anything further and Boromir set to work sharpening his sword. The sharp sound of a whetstone sliding over metal kept Amelia awake and she turned towards him, grumbling slightly over the crackling sound of the fire.
"Would you knock it off? I'm trying to get some sleep here."
"You will thank me for this if we happen upon another band of orcs."
"Yeah, well, if we do, I'm not going to stick around to fight them this time. I'm gonna haul jets out of there. Taking an arrow for you was a one-time deal. If you charge into the fray, I won't help unless there's a particularly good reason."
"How about your own survival?" Boromir snapped and Amelia's eyes narrowed. She pushed herself up on her elbow.
"How about you shut your mouth and let me sleep? We won't be any use in a fight if we don't get any rest anyways." Amelia felt oddly conflicted about snapping at Boromir. On the one hand, she felt that he deserved it and that her logic was sure and sound. On the other, she knew that he was her only companion and that things were bound to get tense if either of them started an argument. Her feelings for the gondorian were muddy at best and the uncertainty infuriated her. Boromir himself had little to do with it, but he was the only one she had to blame.
"One moment you're reminiscing about your home and the next you're acting like I've insulted you. May I ask what brought this on?" Boromir's mouth turned downwards and Amelia groaned, pulling her coat up to cover her head. She answered his question, but he didn't hear her. "What did you say?"
"I said…" Amelia pulled her coat down again and scowled at Boromir. "That you should stop being nosy as well as noisy and let me sleep, you infernal man." She turned away from him, suppressing the annoyance she felt rising.
Boromir did not sharpen his sword anymore that night.
A/N: You guys are seriously the best. Every review has been so sweet so far (The one in spanish was cute, but dude, I've only been learning the language since last september, I'm glad you wrote a short one!) and I'm excited to see what you think of this one! I hope you all are having a good start to 2018!