Hello everybody, sorry if I didn't update for a long time, but I'm moving and I am stuck without internet until June – maybe even July. I'm currently using one of the computers at school, and let me say one thing: I thought my computer was slow – then I tried this one!

Arami: offended? Believe me, I'm definitely not! Thank you very, very much for you comment. It made me really happy and I'm glad you liked my character. About the Slytherins, you understood exactly what I meant to say. For Boromir, I'll do my best not to let him die, but it's really up to him. About the second version, I reposted it only because I'm having troubles with inverted commas and italic paragraphs and I wanted to see if had solved it. Looks like it hasn't…Sorry

CHAPTER XXI: TEN DAYS

This part of the journey was, at least, a little less tiresome than the previous ones. Sometimes they let the boats be carried by the stream, giving an oarstroke here and there. However, that wasn't by any means a relaxing cruise: most of them were sad for they had had to leave the Golden Wood and the sorrow for Gandalf's death hovered above them like a dark cloud. The loss of the wizard had been heavily felt; it had took hope away from them and given only pain in return. Now the fate of the Fellowship rested on Aragorn's shoulders, but he wasn't sure of the road they should take, in every sense. Their quest seemed desperate now more than ever, but they couldn't allow themselves to give in. It was hard to hope and believe, but they had to keep on going.

As the sun sank down in the West, they came back to the mainland, setting a camp for the night after inspecting carefully the surroundings. They weren't into the safe borders of Lorien anymore.

Boromir lingered on the riverbank, watching the water run down toward his country. He bent down to take a flat stone and slowly straightened himself back, rubbing the pebble between his fingers to clean it from the dirt. He threw it into the river almost thoughtlessly and the pebble skipped on the water a couple of times before sinking down. He was about to throw another one when a voice stopped him, "Didn't you learn anything from Moria?"

He turned toward Victoria, who watched him with a tiny smile on her lips. "I doubt that we will found monsters like that one in this river," Boromir replied. A movement behind the girl's shoulders caught his eye: Pippin was crouched by his cousin Merry's side, with slumped shoulders and low eyes full of tears. The girl followed Boromir's gaze and bit down on her lower lip. "Oh."

She moved as if to go to the Hobbit and apologize, but the Man gently held her back. "Let him be, it's better. There is already someone who is taking care of him," he added nodding toward the young lord of Buckland, who had wrapped a comforting arm around his cousin's shoulders.

"I'm sorry," Victoria murmured, lowering her head. "I didn't think about…"

"You don't have to worry. Sometimes it happens," he sighed and threw the second pebble, which bounced three times.

Another weak smile bloomed on Victoria's lips. "How can you do it? I've never managed it…"

"No?"

She shook her head. "Adrian, Mark and Draco did it any time. They used to bounce pebbles on the lake just to annoy a little the giant squid when they had nothing better to do, but I've never learnt how to do it."

Boromir smiled softly. "Come here, I'll teach you." He carefully chose a flat pebble and handed it to her.

"What now?" she asked doubtfully.

The warrior moved to stand behind her, guiding her. "Now you take you arm back like this, and throw it without casting it away as you move your wrist like this…Here, now try." He took a step back not to get in her way and she shot. The pebble bounced two times on the clear water, then went to the bottom.

"Hurray!" the girl cried out, jumping and clapping her hands out of joy. Boromir watched her with an amused smile.

"I can't see what's so exceptional about that…" Legolas remarked, grinning.

Victoria turned to look at him over her shoulder. "Oh, shut up, Radar! That's the first time I've succeeded after trying for six years and I can't see why I shouldn't celebrate, Mr. Perfect," she shot back playfully.

"You had been trying that for six years?" Boromir asked, astonished.

"Well…It's not as if I had been training day and night," she smiled happily. "Come on, let's see who can reach the highest number of bounces!"

This kind of contest didn't last but a few minutes, but the two Humans had fun like they hadn't had in a long time. Boromir was, obviously, the winner, with an unrepeatable six-skipping throw.

Victoria applauded. "Congratulations! That was fantastic!"

He shrugged his shoulders. "My brother and I used to do it when we were children." A veil of sadness fell on his eyes. "Who knows how is he now…I haven't seen him for months."

Victoria was an only child and had never considered Mark and Adrian as her brothers, yet she knew that look. She had seen it in the eyes of Third-Year Sarah Kelso when her little sister Caroline had come to Hogwarts right in that cursed year…And even if she didn't want to admit it, she had also seen it in the eyes of that total moron of Blaise Zabini – one of those who had spread rumors about Draco's evil influence – when he looked at his sister Gemma. "Younger brother, eh?"

Boromir nodded. "Aye. He and I are very close…"

"Is he in Minas Tirith now?"

He shook his head. "I'm not sure, I haven't seen him since I left my city. Maybe he is there or maybe is fighting in Ithilien, I cannot know for sure." He let out a sigh full of worry. "I just hope that he's fine."

Victoria laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sure he is."

Boromir raised an eyebrow. "Are you?"

"Hey, he's your brother!" she replied, slapping him on his shoulder. "He's no ordinary fool. Whether in Minas Tirith or in Ithillen, I'm sure he's okay."

"Ithilien," he corrected her.

"Oh, sorry, Ithilien. By the way, where is that place?"

Boromir explained briefly where it was located. "…It was the most beautiful and fertile region of Gondor, before the Shadow slipped in."

"So it's in the hands of the enemy?" Victoria asked.

"Not exactly. It hasn't been completely conquered yet and there are soldiers of Gondor that still fight there."

"It's practically the front line, isn't it?"

"Exactly," Boromir nodded. For a moment, his worries swallowed him up again.

"Hey." He felt Victoria's warm hand grazing his own. "I'm sure he's fine." She came near him. "Don't you worry too much. Everything will be okay."

Boromir smiled at her as he caressed her hair. "I should comfort you…" he murmured "…and instead it's the other way around."

"But you're a great comfort to me!" she replied, hugging him and snuggling close. "I love you, édnie. Sometimes I don't know where I'd be without you…"

"It happens to me too, Merilìs. It happens to me too."

They walked back to the others. Boromir had an arm wrapped around her waist and Victoria leaned on his shoulder. She felt safe. She felt like the innocent little girl she had once been.

In the daylight, the Fellowship kept on sailing down the river, stopping on the banks just at nightfall. They ate there and decided the watches. They didn't go to sleep immediately after that and, even if they were tired, they lingered there sitting close to each other, silently trying to get some comfort from their closeness.

The third sun had set since they had left the Golden Wood behind. Even if they had already dined and assigned the watches, no one wanted to go to sleep. Sitting in the dark, they waited. Often, Boromir would glance anxiously in a certain direction. Finally, they heard a rustling of leaves and Victoria came out into the clearing.

"That was about time!" Legolas remarked. Victoria shook her shoulders impatiently but didn't reply.

"You shouldn't have been gone for such a long time," Aragorn scolded her a little.

"Traveling or not, Sunday is always Sunday," Victoria said back.

Isildur's heir sighed and shook his head. He already knew that this was a lost battle. They retired to their pallets and soon all were asleep…All but the sentry.

Boromir sat by the river, wide awake. His senses were strained to catch even the faintest sound or the smallest movement, but his mind was full of worry. He thought about his menaced city, about his people that had faith in him…Would he be able to help them, since the legitimate heir to the throne didn't want to? He would have done anything to prevent Gondor's downfall. But there was something else. Since they had left Lothlorien, the Ring's voice had started pushing his way into his mind again. Ignoring it was getting more and more difficult: every day, every hour, every minute it was there, it never stopped. He thought about the potion Victoria had given him some days ago, but he couldn't use it, it was too dangerous. Those shores weren't safe as the Golden Wood.

Suddenly, he realized that his gaze had fallen on the Ring Bearer. He had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't realized it. He turned his gaze on the person sleeping beside the Halfling. Victoria. His Merilìs. He had dedicated his whole life to the protection of Gondor, placing the safety of his beloved country above everything else, even above his own life. But often he had felt void, incomplete… At least before he met Torey.

He knew he couldn't be a good husband. He had always refused to marry because of this and also because he knew that sooner or later his constant being on the front-line would have cost him his own life. He had had to announce the deaths of his men to their wives too many times to inflict such a pain on an hypothetic spouse.

In spite of that, he had often wondered what kind of parent he could have been: his father hadn't exactly set a good example. Then Torey had come into his life. He had always thought that his Country held such a big part of his heart that he wouldn't be able to love a wife and children as they deserved, but now it looked like he had undervalued himself.

He watched the peaceful face of the sleeping girl. She wasn't his daughter, yet he loved her as he loved Gondor and his brother, who was his own flesh and blood. He would have done anything to see her happy and to protect her.

Suddenly, he remembered a story Victoria had read a long time before in a book and had told them on the Caradhras to keep them awake. It was about a young girl who had been killed and, among the other things, it also told how her death had been the cause of the breaking of her family. He shuddered when he thought that the book was called "Daddy's Little Girl1." In the end, if something had happened to Victoria, he was sure that Fellowship would break up just like that imaginary family. He had noticed that she was doing her best to keep them united, to ease their pain and their worries.

'Who knows where we would be without her.'

No, he must not think about that book, he must not think about how he would have felt if he had lost his child.

He sighed. The closer they came to Mordor, the harder the journey would become. Victoria was a proud and stubborn girl, but it would have been hard for her to carry on all alone. He had to make sure that he would be by her side whatever happened. After all, he was her father.

Boromir stood up and moved to sit down by her side. Victoria kept on sleeping peacefully. She was smiling in her sleep, maybe she was dreaming. He caressed her hair lovingly as he thought about a song quite pretty she had sung once, he couldn't remember if it had been on the Caradhras or before that… The song talked about a boy and his hard life and the chorus was a prayer of his mother. He murmured those words in the night, slightly changing them, maybe praying to the Valar for his Morning Star as he looked toward Gondor and thought about the day they would finally be there.

Gondor, give this child a home

give her the love of a good family and a boy of her own

give her a fire in her heart, give her a light in her eyes

give her a wild wind for a brother from the wild Gondor skies2

Torey surely deserved that. She deserved to find peace and a home. He sat by her side caressing her hair and, as he watched her sleep, he couldn't help but thinking, "If it wasn't for her…"

During the sixth night, as he lay in the dark half-asleep, Frodo heard Boromir and Aragorn arguing again, their voices low not to wake up the others.

"Are you still convinced that this is the right road?" the first asked.

"Gandalf had personally chosen this trail," the other replied. "And then, Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel had approved it. We will follow this road whatever happens, did I make myself clear?" he added sharply.

"Crystal." Boromir muttered. "I just hope that you know what you are doing." He pinned the Ranger's gaze with his own. "Be careful, Aragorn: I have already lost too many people I held dear in this war, I have no intention to lose my daughter as well!"

Aragorn stared at him, raising an eyebrow. "Your daughter?"

Boromir nodded firmly. "Yes. My daughter." He turned around, glaring at him over his shoulder. "Pray that nothing will happen, neither to her, nor to the little ones."

Frodo lay still and silent, considering what he had heard. He remembered Galadriel's warning and turned on his side, watching the unaware girl who slept nearby. 'So beautiful and so sad…' He thought as he gently grazed her cheek with a finger. Victoria shifted in her sleep and he hurriedly took his hand away, but didn't stop watching her. Finally, he closed his eyes and prayed silently. 'Elbereth Lady of the Stars, Ilùvatar Lord of the Universe and Christ Savior, to you I offer my prayer. Please, watch over Victoria, do not let her heart be broken again and give her no reason to cry again.' He squeezed his eyes shut not to let his teardrops fall as he thought about all the things that had happened to her and her voice when she spoke of them. 'I beg of you, listen to my plea. She has suffered enough…she has suffered enough.'

He hoped that at least one of the divinities he had turned to would listen to him, even if he was only a small Hobbit. If not the Gods who governed Middle Earth, at least that God Victoria believed in.

As the sun went down for the seventh time, the boats drew near the shore and their occupants started getting out. Legolas, as usual, jumped down first, scanning the area with his eyes.

Even during the dinner, his eyes didn't stop bolting from one point to another. If a single blade of grass moved, he knew. Suddenly, his eyes met Victoria's and he realized that the girl had been staring at him silently for all that time. He immediately looked away, trying to look at ease. But it wasn't all that easy.

That night, he had the first watch. He stood near the camp with his weapons at hand's reach, his eyes piercing the darkness of the night. "I heard you, Vicky," he said suddenly, without turning around.

The girl caught up with him, standing by his side and shaking her head. "Can you see now why I call you Radar?"

"Surely you are not here to discuss my nickname…" He replied, turning to her. …are you?

She sighed, staring straight ahead. "What's wrong with you, Legolas?" She murmured. "I've seen how you look around, how you're always on your guard… She turned to him. I've never seen you like this before." She waited, but the Elf didn't speak and kept on staring at the forest around them. "Legolas…" Victoria insisted "…is there anything I should know?"

He let out a sigh, "I do not know, Victoria. Truly, I do not know." He shook his head. "I can't but think about Lord Celeborn's words…about those strange Orcs he talked about."

"He said that they bear the White Hand…" she whispered. "What does that mean?"

A troubled sigh. "The white hand is the symbol of Saruman the White, the most powerful Istari."

"The traitor," Victoria cut shot.

"That's him. He probably worked his magic upon those creatures…and I fear that we will discover it all too soon."

The girl bit down on her lower lip, but didn't speak. They stood watch together, surrounded by the noises of the night.

"Have a nice watch, Radar," she said finally, lightly patting him on his arm and going back to bed.

Frodo sat with his back against a tree trunk. Only two days and they would reach the falls of Rauros. He watched his fellow-travelers: Sam was cooking their dinner, Legolas chatted with Gimli, Aragorn was checking on their supplies and Merry and Pippin were watching Victoria and Boromir as they dueled, impatiently waiting for their turn. And not one of them could suspect what he was plotting… He thought about all the things they had been through together: the journey from the Shire to Bree, then Weathertop, Rivendell, their journey Southwards along the mountains and their try to pass through the Caradhras, the mines of Moria – at that thought his eyes filled with tears – and the way to Lothlorien. All together. But he had to follow his road on his own, even if it was hard.

He was startled out of his reverie when somebody dropped on the ground beside him.

"You're so silent today…" Victoria remarked, getting as comfortable as she could. "What's up with you, Frodo?" She asked him in a lower, sweeter voice.

The Hobbit shook his head, 2Nothing. I'm just tired." He didn't look at her, pretending to follow the duel between his cousins and Boromir.

Victoria stared at him silently. Since they had left Lothlorien, eight days before, Frodo had become quite melancholic, as if a burden weighed on his heart and on his conscience. She didn't know what had caused it: Gandalf's loss, the Ring…or a certain conversation he had had with a certain Elf Queen in the middle of the night. She had heard everything – at least everything they had said out loud. She was sure that the harpy had talked to him telepathically using her powers, but she had no way to discover what they had said. Trying to make Frodo confess it would have been like trying to prove the Gryffindors' involvement in the slaughter of April 30th: impossible, useless and frustrating, she knew it from experience. And then, she risked to send him away, maybe even lose him. As long as it was up to her, she would have done anything not to let it happen. After all, Frodo was the main reason why she had wanted to go with them at all costs. She took a cigarette from the crumpled packet and lit it up, uselessly trying to smoke away her worries.

Another day had gone by. The night was dark, the stars couldn't be seen. Eight companions sat side by side.

"Do you think that it will rain tomorrow?" Pippin asked as he looked at the sky, speaking to no one in particular.

"No, I do not think so…" Legolas answered.

Aragorn came back from the riverbank, sitting down beside him. "Tomorrow we will reach the Falls of Rauros," he announced.

Frodo nodded briefly as he kept on staring at the ground, his eyes lost far away.

Victoria looked at the river that flowed peacefully. Slowly, she pulled out of her pocket the packet of cigarettes. There was only one left and she knew, but it didn't matter. She took it out and lit it up, taking a deep drag. She puffed out a little bit of smoke without tearing her eyes away from the dark water. Not a single light was reflected upon it.

1: Mary Higgins Clark, Daddy's Little Girl.

2: John Denver, "Wild Montana Skies." I've just changed the personal pronouns from male to female and swap "woman" with "boy."