PLAIN JANE - chapter five- a story in which stereotypes are destroyed
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Jane had only ever seen Boromir fighting uglier and sweatier creatures than he, in his very heavy gear, when it was dark. Never before had she seen him practicing the sword in just a shirt and leggings with another man, when he was clearly not aiming to kill the other man, merely disarm him. Instead of looking violent and aggressive, he looked skilful, masterful even. She could see the contours of his body, the muscles under his shirt...it was slightly distracting.
Pippin and Merry had taken her two hands in theirs and pulled her down winding steps, into a courtyard. Jane wondered where they were going, as they were obviously not taking her to one of the many rooms that Rivendell held, where else could Boromir be? She could barely remember entering Rivendell, she had been exhausted, her eyesight had been blurred and she'd leaned heavily on Boromir, who, as usual, was a pillar of strength. After a quick chat with an austere looking Elf, Boromir had been dragged away to the special council and a demure and calm looking female Elf had lead her to a bathroom where Jane had wept with happiness.
Wrenched from her reflection, Jane realised that they were climbing stairs down into the valley; they had left the Last Homely House and entering the gardens.
The valley was unnaturally quiet, only a gentle breeze rustling through the autumn leaves and the occasional chirrup of a bird could be heard. It seemed so strange, so secluded in this valley – but Jane remembered that Elrond had a magic ring that helped him control the weather in his little realm. Bloody useful really. It was like an extremely mild English summer; warm without being humid.
The two hobbits had dragged her down to the practice fields, where there lots of the Elves were perfecting their archery.
Elves, Jane had observed, were rather tall and serene looking. They were all very beautiful and had long very light blonde, platinum blonde even, hair. Jane knew from reading Tolkien's books that they were all thousands of years old and while they did not look old, neither did they look young; they looked wise but weary. She had not seen many close up, nor had an actual conversation with one yet, but she had not been in Rivendell for long and she had ten more months to live out in Middle Earth. They weren't very sexy though. Jane had been surprised at first, as fan fictions had always made the first born out to be the epitome of beauty – which they were – and unbelievably sexy. Usually all sorts of shenanigans were happening in Rivendell by the time the Mary Sue ended up there. These Elves looked disturbingly asexual. And Jane could hardly tell the difference between the sexes. Really, Tolkien was a bit of a weirdo, wasn't he? she thought. However, she envied them their perfect sight and strength, their skilled workmanship...The Last Homely House was amazing. She wished she knew more about architecture to understand it, but she could tell it was a masterpiece; intricate weavings of wood and metal, wide open spaces, every door knob and crevice carved with immense expertise and creativity. And yet it was never overbearing and heavy, austere or crowded, like a gothic building would be, nor over-busy like baroque architecture. If anything it was all lightness and openness and utterly relaxing.
Their fighting skills were next to none; these archers were certainly very skilled; the target was a couple hundred metres from the archers and the Elves hit the bull's eye every time. Their elegant but strong hands pulled their bow strings with graceful ease and their keen and sharp eyes and Jane watched them hypnotised until Pippin prodded her in the side and motioned her to look to the left.
Inside a large fence ring, two men were sparring. Silver gleamed and the sound of clashing swords and grunting. With a slight shock Jane realised that Boromir was one of the men! She barely recognised him- he'd shaved. He wasn't wearing his customary seven layers of clothing and his big furry jacket, only a light cotton shirt, leggings and his boots, even though it was slightly chilly. Jane felt embarrassed to notice that she could see that the top of his shirt was unbuttoned and the tiniest wisp of chest hair was peeking through; for some reason that seemed indecorous...or indecent.
"Who is other man?" asked Jane.
"That's Strider, or rather, Aragorn," said Merry. "He looks very grim, but he's actually quite nice."
Ooh, Aragorn, thought Jane. He was much lighter on his feet than Boromir, being of a lighter build, but Boromir was holding his own, Jane was proud to see. Jane had been looking forward to seeing Aragorn, but now she saw him she was slightly disappointed; he didn't look particularly kingly. He looked more like a tramp...a lithe strong and skilled swordsman, but definitely a tramp. Her heart sank a bit, and she wondered what he had looked like when Arwen Evenstar had fallen in love with him. He seemed, like Boromir, rather humourless although they were both obviously enjoying sparring with each other.
If they were in Gondor, mused Jane, women would probably be swooning and shrieking at the sight of two, rather sexy if slightly tramp-like men, attacking each other so physically, what with the sweating and the swords and the... Oh no, Jane thought, horrified, did I just refer to Boromir's sweating as sexy? That is just wrong, plain wrong.
With a twist of his wrist, Aragorn disarmed Boromir. It was so unexpected and sudden, Jane was rather impressed and so was Boromir, who laughed as Aragorn handed back his sword and a look passed between them. What was it? Jane wondered. Mutual respect? She hoped so.
It was strange seeing Boromir interacting with another man, camaraderie and all that. Although gruff and grudging with her, he seemed much more at ease with Aragorn, which for some reason, tugged at her insides. But before she had a chance to question the emotion tugging at her insides, Pippin and Merry shouted at Aragorn and Boromir and clambered over the fence to greet them.
"Well done Aragorn! Well done Boromir!" they cried, "That was very exciting!"
Aragorn smiled at them and offered them some words of advice with his low voice, as it seems the hobbits were eager to learn the sword (probably, Jane mused, because they knew they would need it on their quests) and Boromir eagerly volunteered to teach them.
"Soon, little ones, we will have you fighting like proper little warriors!" he said, ruffling their hair.
Jane was not expecting such affection between Boromir and the Hobbits. How long had she been sleeping? She had been very tired, she supposed. That little tugging and pulling of her insides sharpened considerably and she swallowed uneasily; what was that and why wouldn't it go away?
Boromir happened to look up at this point and locked eyes with Jane. His green eyes widened in shock.
"Oh! We completely forgot! Jane woke up and had tea with us and then said she wanted to see you -" Pippin explained, eagerly. For some reason, Jane wanted to deny a desire to see Boromir, but Pippin spoke so fast it took time for Jane to understand it and she didn't have the vocabulary to say what she wanted to say.
"-and so we brought her down here!" finished Merry.
For some reason, Jane felt almost shy. That was ridiculous! This was only Boromir, she knew Boromir. Sweaty, grumpy, arrogant Boromir. She felt determined not to appear like a silly swooning woman who completely lost her senses with approached with a man who had no high opinion of cleanliness.
"Greetings, Boromir," she said.
"Jane?" he said, looking gobsmacked, "You look so..."
Lovely?
Stunning?
Beautiful?
"Clean."
Aragorn looked slightly amused, but the hobbits looked at each other in confusion.
Jane felt all forms of reserve and shyness she had felt around the clean shaven and white shirt wearing Boromir drained away, as if through a sieve. What an adjective to choose! This was a man who was allegedly a lord of Gondor; where were his manners?
"Well!" she exclaimed. "Clean? Huh." She put her hands on her hips and glared at Boromir, who looked rather surprised at his choice of words. "You are not clean. Always not clean."
Boromir felt his blood heat up with anger. "I have been sparring with Aragorn!" he said, defensively, wondering why she should take such insult at his attempt at a compliment.
Jane merely raised her eyebrows, disdainfully at him. Then she looked over to Aragorn, who was now leaning against the fence looking pensively at Jane. He smiled at her and lowered his head in deference, and she did the same in turn.
"Greetings, Lady Jane," he said with his quiet voice.
"Lady?" she asked. "What this word mean?" she asked, looking at Boromir, their hot exchanged forgotten in her pursuit of knowledge.
"It's a word of respect that we give to the female sex," explained Aragorn, kindly. Jane just looked at him blankly, understanding less than half the words.
"She won't understand that, unfortunately," explained Boromir. He pointed at Aragorn and himself and said "Lord" and herself and a female Elf that was walking up to stand by Aragorn and said "Lady".
Ah, thought Jane. I know what they're on about. I can't believe I forgot that they're lords and ladies, with proper titles. One day Aragorn will be a king!
"Greetings, Lord Aragorn," she said with a smile.
The Elf lady who was lingering behind Aragorn smiled and repeated Lord Elrond's request to meet with Lady Jane, now that she had recovered from her journey. "If you would follow me," she said in a low melodious voice and serenely turned around and glided up the hill. Jane looked around at everyone confusedly until Boromir motioned that she should follow the Elf, then gulped and ran off behind the mysterious Elf.
How on earth had she not thought of this?
She had spent almost two months in the wilderness with Boromir and she KNEW they were going to end up in Rivendell and yet it had not even crossed her mind that she would have to explain herself to Elrond or Gandalf! Oh, was she in trouble. What was she supposed to say?
Hey there Elrond! I insulted a form of writing, which was very inconveniently personified, it burnt down my bedroom, I ended up in a strange place made of caster sugar and told that I would have to inhabit a book without getting myself killed for twelve months! Oh yeah, and you don't exist and I may or may not be imagining this. But I'm not crazy, I swear!
Honesty is usually the best policy, but in cases such as these, sometimes it's best avoided.
In the fan fictions that Jane had read, the heroine had either told the truth and been believed and even consulted on what to do during the war, or had told an elaborate lie. Being as this was real life, and not a fan fiction and more importantly, even if Jane was a good liar (which she was not) she didn't have the vocabulary to explain her situation. Even if she could, it was doubtful that they would believe her. And if they did believe her, they probably wouldn't like her that much, she was sure that her respectability would drop dramatically when she explained that in her world and in the 21st century, aristocracy were inbred and useless and that women had equal rights to men.
Jane was definitely leaning towards the school of thought that encouraged lying. But what to tell them? What would sound plausible?
They had almost reached the House now. Jane's legs ached considerably less than she would have thought after climbing up the hill, but they seemed very heavy with reluctance to talk to Arwen's father. What if he could see right through her? What if he punished her? Did they have dungeons in Rivendell?
Elrond was intrigued by Jane. She was taller than most humans he had seen that were not of the Dunedain, and had hazel eyes and dark blonde wavy hair, making her look like the offspring of one of the Rohirrim and one of the Haradrim. And yet Boromir had told her that she spoke neither of these people's languages.
He was conferring with Gandalf when Jane knocked on the door and entered the room.
Gazing at her, he could see what a difference a couple of days sleeping made. He'd examined her on arrival and could find nothing but a few blisters; Boromir had taken good care of her, despite his
grumbles and she had needed no medical attention. Gone were the bags under her eyes, the mud on her face and she was wearing a light green dress instead of the strange rags and Boromir's spare tunic. She looked very nervous but Elrond noted intelligence in her eyes and much kindness.
"Greetings, child," he said.
"Greetings, Lord Elrond," she replied and looked hesitantly over at the wizard leaning on the door frame and surreptitiously lighting his pipe. "Greetings, Gandalf."
Elrond frowned at Gandalf and Gandalf blew out his pipe frustrated, his bushy eyebrows drawing together in exasperation. Jane watched this exchange amusedly; it seemed that Gandalf and Elrond got on each other's nerves.
"Welcome to Rivendell," Elrond began.
Elrond was a fascinating sight. He was tall like all other Elves, but rather human looking too. He looked very stern, but kind and very wise; his dark blue eyes were like pools of deep water and hinted at his other worldliness. His long dark hair was not very Elfish and his face was lined...but perhaps that wasn't so much to do with his age, maybe they were worry lines. He certainly gave off an aura of melancholy. Jane felt sorry for him; his wife had been raped by orcs and had to sail away to wherever the Elves came from, his daughter was giving up her mortality for a hairy ranger and his land was in constant danger.
"You do not speak any language I have heard," accused Gandalf. "And yet I am inclined to trust you," he relented.
Oh man, thought Jane. In all the fan fictions she had ever read, the girl, the heroine, the Mary Sue, could at least speak to the characters; it seemed most writers weren't aware of the language barrier between twenty-first century English speakers and third Age Middle Earth Westron speakers. She didn't mind that she couldn't sing like a lark, that she couldn't fight like an Amazonian warrior, that her time wandering the lands with Boromir had seen her on a hygiene level with the Captain of Gondor himself and that she couldn't glide about like an elegant deer. She would, however, really like to be able to converse with anyone other than Boromir without being immersed in confusion and panic. Why did they have to use such big words? Boromir patronising her with his baby talk was preferable.
"I don't understand," she whispered miserably. "Boromir please," she asked.
Elrond looked pensively at her despondent face with compassion and saw that she would be at ease if someone she trusted and knew was here to help her. Boromir, who he slightly disproved of, could understand her better than Elrond and Gandalf. So he sent for Boromir.
While they were waiting for him to arrive, Jane looked about the room they were in. It was obviously Elrond's study; it was lined with thick bookshelves, from floor to ceiling, meticulously filled with scrolls and books and papers and strange scientific objects. A balcony on the right side of the room looked down onto the valley, and also had a good view of the road into Rivendell, so Elrond could see all those who entered his domain. Handy, thought Jane.
On his desk lay a map, detailed with drawings of rivers and mountains and trees. It was of Middle Earth, Jane recognised it from reading the book, except that all the place names were in funny runes, so she couldn't read them, but she still understood it. She could see Mordor, to the East...and that was Gondor, that city there jutting up from the rocks was Minas Tirith, where Boromir lived and Osgiliath, which was by a river...she traced the parchment with her finger, muttering the names under her breath, Rohan and Edoras..., the Shire, where the Hobbits lived, Bree, which always made her think of cheese, and in the little valley there, was Rivendell.
"My Lord," said a deep voice. Jane jumped; Boromir had finally arrived. And she still had no idea what she was going to say to them!
"We thought it was fitting that you should be here when we inquired as to Jane's origins," explained Gandalf, who was watching Jane's worried face with interest.
"She has told me she comes from somewhere called Ing-land," said Boromir, stroking his beard, "But I confess I have never heard of this place. Perhaps it is a village in Rohan?"
"She certainly has the colouring for it," murmured Gandalf, "But then she would speak Rohirric and she does not." He addressed Jane, "What is Ing-land? A village like Bree?"
"Like Bree? No," said Jane, smiling. "Very big," she said.
"Like Rohan? Or Gondor?" asked Gandalf. Jane thought for a second. How big were these countries really? She looked again at the map, wishing there was a scale on it.
"No. Like Middle Earth," she said finally.
"I have never heard of such a place," said Elrond, looking at her intensely, as if trying to gauge whether she was lying or not.
"It's very far away," she said.
"And how did you get here?" asked Gandalf.
This was a tricky one.
"I don't know," she said, apologetically. "I wake up in river. I don't know where home is."
"And yet you have heard of Rohan, Gondor and even Rivendell," accused Elrond, slightly suspiciously. Jane could have smacked herself. Hadn't Jane Austen said that if a woman knew anything, she should conceal it? Well, in this case it was true; she shouldn't have looked at that stupid map and given herself away!
"Yes..." She thought about how she was going to explain they were names in stories where she was from. She bit her lip and looked up at Boromir, as if he would somehow miraculously have the answers. "Sauron," she said, "And Isildur and fighting..." She looked at Gandalf and Elrond, willing them to understand, "People know...they hear...people tell," she stopped and sighed. Then she thought of something and turned back to Boromir and prodded his chest; "White tree...Minas Tirith."
"Hmm, she seems to know these places from stories, perhaps even myths," mused Gandalf. "I like her," he announced, "she is harmless."
Boromir snorted.
"She is to stay here then?" he asked, hopefully. He couldn't think of any other option.
Elrond, who had been in a reverie, brought his sharp eyes up to Boromir's face. "No, she cannot stay here," he decided.
"Then where is she to go, my Lord?" he asked.
Jane wondered why they were talking about her like she wasn't there...and why Jane wasn't allowed to stay in Rivendell. Her plans of exploring the valley and eating tasty food and drinking tea and floating around in dresses and doing needlework with Arwen started evaporating and being replaced with horror; surely they wouldn't send her to the nearest human town? Glancing at the map, she saw it was Bree, oh no no no she did not want to go to Bree, what would she do there? Would she have to become a bar maid? A bar wench? Or a servant?
"Yes, where?" she cried.
"I'm afraid that she must go with you," Elrond said calmly, as if he had not just sent Jane to her death.
Go with Boromir? With the Fellowship? Jane's heart starting accelerating until she realised that she wasn't supposed to know where Boromir was going.
"Where is Boromir going?" she asked, tentatively, hoping they couldn't see through her.
"On a quest," replied Gandalf. "We will travel through Middle Earth to Mordor," he continued, his grey beard rustling.
Jane glanced at Mordor on the map and shuddered.
Jane knew she would never get as far as Mordor, but months of walking, sleeping on the ground, being attacked by goblins and balrogs and getting frostbite lay ahead of her, until the unthinkable happened and then there were battles to be fought. People dying and murdering and awful things like that.
Her lip wobbled and she asked to be excused ("Want to go, please, Lord Elrond") and she ran off back to her room. Boromir argued with Gandalf and Lord Elrond as respectfully as possible for half an hour and lost spectacularly ("If she can survive months on end with you, Boromir, then she can survive Mordor") and was told to accompany her to dinner in an hour.
When he eventually arrived at Jane's door, wearing Elvish finery and feeling quite out of place, Jane was not crying as he had feared, but very pale and solemn. It suited them both not to talk and keep to their thoughts.
Boromir and Jane were walking to the hall were Elrond promised there would be lots of food and hobbits. Jane felt the pain in her stomach that said, "FEED ME!" but the thought of food made her
feel nauseous, and the thought of everything to come made her feel panicky. It was the same feeling she had felt as a teenager the night before an exam when she knew that she hadn't studied and was going to fail, but a thousand times worse.
She looked at Boromir, who was taking long strides and frowning. Jane had to walk twice as fast as him to keep up, but she didn't dare ask him to slow down as he looked in a right mood. He had been angrier and grumpier than usual ever since Elrond had decreed she couldn't stay in Rivendell and had to go with the Fellowship. He had demanded to know why she had to accompany them on such a dangerous mission, why she should have to leave somewhere safe? But Elrond had just looked him mysteriously and said that it would be so. Respect to Elrond dictated that Boromir couldn't dispute his answer (which seemed about as mature as going "Just because!").
Jane felt horribly unwanted, like a big burden that no one wanted to carry. Elrond clearly didn't want someone he couldn't fully trust, a little human girl, hanging around his precious Rivendell when he had bigger fish to fry and Boromir didn't want to have to drag Jane back across Middle Earth and look after her all over again. Jane felt like crying and would have if Boromir had not been there and if the smell drifting over to her from the hall did not smell heavenly.
In the hall Jane sat down in the hall on the table next to Boromir and across from Merry and Pippin. It seemed a very casual affair, everyone was coming and going, changing from table to table, Elves chattering in their own language and Common, laughing and pouring drink. It was fascinating to watch them, their light eyes shining and their skin glowing, wearing the strange medieval clothing. Jane looked around her, almost in a trance, noting the beauty and effervescence of the Elves. Then she saw Aragorn and waved at him. He smiled and waved back; what a friendly tramp, she thought. The person sitting next to him turned to see who Aragorn was waving at and Jane's eyes widened; it was Arwen!
Arwen definitely was her father's daughter; long luxurious dark hair framed a pale heart shaped face. She had delicate symmetrical features; high cheekbones, a high forehead, soft lips, cobalt eyes and pearly skin. She was the most beautiful person Jane had ever seen but her beauty was more than skin deep; Jane instinctively knew that Arwen was the loveliest person she would ever meet. Jane smiled at her and turned to Boromir.
"Who is she?" she asked (as she had to pretend she didn't know much about these people). Boromir sighed inwardly. They were at a meal of the most delicious food he had ever had in his life and he had spent many months living of maggoty biscuits and water and Jane was asking questions. He was chewing when she surreptitiously pointed at Arwen and swallowed to speak.
"That is the Lady Arwen, Lord Elrond's daughter. She is the most beautiful lady in Middle Earth; her people call her the Evenstar," he explained and then went back to his meal. Jane was surprised that he wasn't more captivated at her beauty and looked at him with confusion.
An understatement; Boromir wasn't keen on Elves. Dwarves he had met before and had liked, he understood their motives, their likes and loves and their outlook so it was not as if he only liked his own race. They were also good drinkers and it's nice to have something to bond over. Elves were big drinkers too, but they could easily out drink Boromir and he would never get rat arsed with them
because who knows what they would do to him while he was out of it. Possible braid his hair. Boromir shuddered; it didn't bare thinking about.
When Jane had eaten her fill, she decided to wander out towards the gardens. The light was fading and she fancied seeing the sunset, perhaps it would make her feel less like crying and give her peace of mind. So she got up, said goodbye to the hobbits and Boromir, who were drinking ale together and moseyed off to the balcony and down the steps. She took her thin slippers off and padded over the soft grass, enjoying the lovely smell of the gardens. Jane couldn't see the sunset so she wandered through the little forest a kind of pretty wilderness that led down towards the valley.
It was such a calming place. Her breathing slowed and became deeper; she started smiling and humming without realising it. The gentles chirping of the grasshoppers and the slight breeze rustling the leaves were the only sounds she could hear. She swung her arms back and forth as she walked down the valley, gradually picking up speed until she was running, laughing out loud with joy at the freedom she had. She was near the bottom when she heard a sudden SNAP behind her; she twisted and turned round, remembering suddenly she was in a very dangerous world, who was it, what was it that was behind her?! But she slipped and grabbed onto the nearest tree; which was Boromir.
"Boromir!" she hissed. For some reason shouting in Rivendell's twilight seemed like irreverence. She thumped him on the chest and he looked annoyed, as usual. "Why you here?" she demanded, angry that he had followed her and that he had probably seen her skipping down the hill like a silly school girl.
"It is unsafe for you to walk at night, Jane," he explained, looking stern. She sighed.
"In Rivendell?" she said exasperatedly. Didn't he know Elrond had a magic ring that protected the borders, as well as countless elves who were thousands of years old looking after the place?
"Yes," he said simply. Boromir didn't trust the elves; their hair was too long and girly for him to take them too seriously as proper warriors. They didn't sweat and they were too clean. "I will come with you on your walk," he said, chivalrously, "In case you see a bunny rabbit." He tapped his sheathed sword and smirked.
Jane glared at him. Why was it that Boromir chose to be chivalrous only when she didn't want him to act like a gentleman? However, Boromir was not to be deterred and so she shrugged and continued walking down the hill. His presence put a dampener on her spirits though and she deeply resented him mothering her.
Looking into the distance, she realised that now that she could see through the trees, the sun had already set; she had missed it! She sighed and looked out at the hills and the bridge and the two people kissing on the bridge and the river...hold up, she thought. She stopped walking and Boromir bumped into her and she tripped over her dress. He pulled her up, but before he could admonish her, she started pulling him up the hill.
"I thought you wanted to see the sunrise?" he protested, unused to being pulled about by a female and slightly confused at her sudden change of mind.
Jane shh'd him. She couldn't believe that she had glimpsed Arwen and Aragorn kissing and was completely mortified and knew that she had to make sure Boromir didn't know of their relationship. It was a big secret, she knew, and only trouble could come of Boromir discovering it.
"I am tired," she said, half running up the hill. Boromir stared after her. The girl was completely mad, first she skipped down the hill, laughing and being merry, then as soon as he made his presence known, she had turned sour and was running up a hill to get away from him, because she was tired?! In a deep part of his stomach, something clenched at the thought of her laughing and smiling with the hobbits and the others and only being annoyed and upset every time their paths cross. Never before, had it mattered whether or not a woman liked him or not, never before had it mattered that anyone enjoyed his company. Not for the first or the last time, did he wish for Faramir's counsel, or at least someone to talk to about these.
"Goodnight!" she shouted at him and ran up the staircase. Boromir frowned at her retreating figure. He suddenly felt very jealous; who had taught her that word? He was supposed to be her teacher! Confused and worried, Boromir trudged off to bed.
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Well! I'm tragically behind with my updates, but this is awfully long, so hopefully that makes up for it. I've tried to reply to all your reviews, but my computer keeps crashing, so if it my replies haven't reached, then I'm ever so sorry and you'll just have to review again complaining about my rudeness ;)
I hope you like it!