PLAIN JANE IN THIRTEEN CHAPTERS

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Chapter the Seventh

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In which Boromir elicits the most reader sympathy and Jane is mainly oblivious.

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Jane had read hundreds of fan fictions. Mainly romance ones...about Legolas or Boromir or Eomer (never Gimli though, she made that mistake once and never again) and the female, the lady, was not always from the modern twenty-first century world. Sometimes they were Gondorian servants who fell in love with their lords, or elves, or noblewomen.

If they were from the twenty-first century, the girl was often brash, crude and overtly sexual and sometimes Jane wondered why her chosen man/elf/ent (it could happen...) was not repulsed. But therein lies the mystery of romance; one man's trash is another man's treasure.

Often the traveller into this other dimension had a magic power, or supernatural strength or a destiny. Or, more realistically, a lesson to learn; she was transformed through her ordeal from girl to woman, emerging at the end, complete with future husband, adoring sidekicks and shiny hair.

Jane had shiny hair, true, but that was because of the wonderful shampoo that the Elves gave her.

Glorfindel led her to a store room full of folded clothes and handed her a pair of leggings and a faded tunic. She was slightly gutted that she didn't get to go into his bedroom and look at his stuff, but then Elves were very personal and private creatures, she reasoned. Glorfindel gazed at her while she inspected the clothes, which were soft, flexible, durable and smelled of roses.

"I hear you are to go on the quest with the Fellowship," said Glorfindel, his face pensive. Jane hummed in affirmative. "However, you are not a shield maiden," he continued.

"What a shield maiden?" asked Jane.

"You do not know the sword," explained Glorfindel. He bent down to a low shelf and picked up a pair of boots and a brown leather belt and handed them to her. "You have other skills?"

"Um, what a skill?" asked Jane.

"Things you can do," clarified the elf.

"Oh, um. Well, archery. "

"You are skilled at the bow," asked Glorfindel, surprised.

"Legolas say is he make me a bow," answered Jane. She looked at Glorfindel. "Why am I go on quest with Boromir? You know?"

This question was first and foremost on her mind. Was there a particular reason that Elrond didn't want her around? He was a very intuitive elf and must have realised she meant no harm and didn't have the capacity to cause any harm anyway. Was it merely he didn't want to put up with her? But surely he knew she would just be a burden on the Fellowship; that she would just drag them down? What was the elf thinking?

"I thought perhaps you had a special skill, a talent, that you would be a warrior or a healer, but you seem quite ordinary, in that respect at least," said Glorfindel. Jane stared at him blankly.

"Yes or no?"

"No."

"Bye bye Glorfindel," said Jane and she skipped out of the room. The elf was very odd and used words she had never heard before. He did have a special aura about him though; he seemed young but old at the same time. Jane vaguely remembered from the books that he had died in Gondolin and then come back again, a vaguely Christ like rebirth. Still, she thought, that's got to mess with your head a bit, no wonder he looks a bit mental.

It was certainly much easier to move about in the leggings, but she felt a lot more self conscious in them, even though the tunic was so long it reached her knees. She felt a little bit like how she imagined an elf would, like she could skip about the woods all day long and climb trees; after the heavy, draping dresses the leggings were very light. She tied her hair up and ran along to meet with Boromir.

Boromir was waiting for her with an extra sword which he handed to her as a way of greeting instead of his usual grunt. Jane made a face at how heavy it was, but was told she would get used to the weight by Boromir and it was only a training sword used for children, anyway.

Boromir was a Captain of Gondor and had trained hundreds, maybe thousands of men; this should have been a walk in the park for him. However, he felt very self conscious for some reason, maybe it was because he had never taught a woman before. "No, Jane," he corrected, "Clasp your fingers like this," and he wrapped his hand around Jane's much smaller one and his heart skipped a beat. Completely horrified and for want of a better phrase, freaked out, he stepped quickly away from her and gruffly said, "I think we'll teach you to parry now."

It must be said that if you get to Boromir's age without falling in love, it is impressive. It also must be said that if you fall in love at Boromir's age without any prior experience then you will be unbelievably scared of this new and unlooked for feeling and repress it as hard as you can. If this feeling had been sentient, then Boromir would have hacked it to death with his sword. As it was, he just taught Jane a few basic moves, like how to stand, how to lunge and how to block for example, and seeing how quickly she tired, sent her on her way. He would have to train her little, and often. She was, he noted, much worse than the Hobbits and they were much smaller than her. But she was female and the Hobbits were remarkably resilient, he rationalised. You must treat her like you would any other lady, he told himself sternly. Ignore her for the most part, act like a gentleman, be slightly suspicious and on your guard at all times. Satisfied with his own rationality, he stomped off to show Aragorn how sweaty he was and smoke something with him.

Jane, acutely aware of the lack of showers, had resigned herself to not being able to wash properly after her work out with big old sweaty Boromir and glumly realised that it was going to get much, much worse. She splashed herself in the river and wandered around looking at the trees for a bit, unwilling to go back into the Homely House slightly damp. It was autumn, she thought, looking at the trees goldening and losing their leaves. They were to leave on Christmas; she remembered that from the books, so they had a bit of time left, before the quest. Waiting for it was dreadful, it was like being in the waiting room at the dentist's except a thousand times worse, she thought. However, there was no need to get hysterical about it, she thought, what I need to do is prepare. If I do a little sword practice with Boromir every day, do some archery with Legolas, find some proper boots, and some rope, ropes always useful, what else will I need, lots of socks and hopefully they have some sort of waterproof material and if we're going up a snowy mountain I'll need lots of layers...

Lost in her own little mental check-list, Jane stumbled upon a little meadow where the Evenstar was kneeling on the grass, staring into the distance. On her lap was some forgotten needlework. Jane stopped suddenly and tried to leave the scene without disturbing the Elf, but Arwen motioned for her to come and sit next to her. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"My handmaidens have gone to procure some lunch," said Arwen at length. Jane blinked.

"Lunch," she repeated. It was the only word she had understood and one of the first she had learnt; meals were very important to her. Arwen looked at her for the first time, her lovely almond eyes focusing on the human with curiosity. To Arwen, she looked like a child, barely grown, but there was something worldly about her, she thought, something strangely knowing. And yet, Arwen thought, she looked kind.

"My name is Arwen," she said, "Elrond is my father." Jane soaked in the new word; father and then introduced herself back. They looked at each other for a while, understanding that there really was nothing to say; it was a rather comfortable silence. Jane lay down on the grass, at peace in the dell, thinking about nothing in particular, the worry that usually hung around her like a cloak dissipated and she closed her eyes and napped.

She woke up a while later, after a dreamless sleep, a gentle breeze ruffling her hair and sat up, her joints cracking a bit, to see three elf ladies around Arwen, quietly chatting in low voices and sipping wine. They were all exceptionally beautiful in that symmetrical way that is very hard to describe as it's very boring. They were all very willowy, fair haired, with blue or green eyes and looked slightly solemn and ageless. While Arwen was the only brunette and wearing a dark velvety dress, the others were wearing lighter pastel colours and she seemed very set apart. It occurred to Jane that she really had no equals in that sense – imagine never having friends, only handmaidens. She felt sorry for her, despite Arwen's beauty, inside and out...no wonder she fell for Aragorn. They were both outsiders. One elf, who had long silvery hair and a ready smile, offered her a goblet, which she took and sipped from.

A word on elf wine; it's superb. It's like being dipped in liquid heat and massaged all over and tickled. It tastes spicy and yet fresh at the same time.

"Ooh!" said Jane, in appreciation. The elf smiled.

"I am Mela," she said, "And this is Cuilwen," she gestured to a smiling elf who gracefully inclined her head, "And this is Raina," the elf next to her nodded.

"You are coming to the Hall tonight?" asked the elf that Jane thought was Cuilwen. Jane wrinkled her forehead in thought – had she heard that word before?

"The Hall?" she asked.

"Yes, it is where we meet to sing," explained the elf that Jane thought was Raina. Jane felt a little dizzy looking at them.

"Ah, yes," murmured Jane. She had completely forgotten that they all liked to sing so much – all those incredibly long songs in the book, about historical people falling in love and killing things. Such a difference from her world, she thought, where songs were quite explicit and about sex or shooting people, although, she mused, is that really so different?

"Are you going to sing?" asked Jane, directed to Arwen, who laughed. Her laugh was not like a tinkling bell, which Jane had expected it to be due to lazy fan fiction writers, which is a good thing, as a tinkling bell would sound rather like the tune an ice cream van plays when it wants to entice hungry children. She laughed softly, yet musically and it made Jane feel very relaxed.

"Perhaps," she replied. "I have heard that Bilbo may grace us with a song."

"Another one?" asked the elf that was probably Cuilwen. She did not look particularly happy at the prospect.

"Yes, Cuilwen," answered Arwen, prompting Jane to give herself a mental high five, "Another one," she confirmed, with a suspiciously cheeky smile.

"Maybe you could sing, Jane, or tell us a tale from your world," asked Mela.

Horror filled Jane. Jane could not carry a note, despite loving hearing people sing, loving music; she was the opposite of musical. And as for telling the people of Imaldris about her world...even if she had the words, it would disgust them. She would have to tell them a tale from the past, hundreds of years ago, maybe. Oh, it was all too complicated; she started sweating.

"Oh no. I am not good." They saw that Jane was very embarrassed at the very idea of it and did not push it, being very polite creatures and so instead, told her all about another time there was music in the Hall at night, when Lindir became slightly intoxicated and told Elrond that he had very pretty hair.

"When was that?" asked Jane, smiling.

"Oh, perhaps three hundred years ago, not very long ago," said Cuilwen. Jane's eyes widened. It was so strange, she thought, to look at immortal creatures, as she had never seen anything that was never going to die. All humans were born with the knowledge of their own death inside them, like a ticking bomb. Imagine three centuries being like last week, she thought. It must be very boring. After all, she thought, they didn't lead really exciting lives, mainly sewing things and singing. Feminism clearly hasn't hit Middle Earth, she thought.

Eventually, after the wine was exhausted, all the meat delicately nibbled and the bread elegantly chewed, she and the elves packed up their picnic and walked back up the hill, swaying with ease, while Jane skipped in her leggings.

Back in her room, she changed back into her dress and wandered around Imaldris for a few hours. She found the library, which was so amazing that she decided she could live there, until she opened a book and discovered they were all in runes and completely unintelligible. It was rather calming, however, albeit a bit dusty, to sit in the big arm chairs and look at all the stacks of history piled higgledy piggledy, and think about all the heroic things contained within the books. Realising she was in a book herself, she felt hugely claustrophobic; whose bookshelf was she lying on? She ran out the room and down some steps, almost tripping over Gimli.

"Whoa, there lassie!" he rumbled, pipe smoke pouring from his mouth. "Where are you going so fast?"

Jane said she had been in the library.

"Ah, I understand completely. Libraries are awful, full of books. Come and have tea with the hobbits," he said, grabbing her hand and leading her away. Due to Gimli being vertically challenged, Jane had to stoop somewhat, but he didn't really seem to noticed and Jane was far too confused to say anything, being quite sure that she had already partaken in some tea with the hobbits not so long ago. But she had forgotten how much hobbits like to eat and how very good they are at it, and so was seated at a little table at a balcony she had never seen before and was given a cup of tea and something vaguely scone-like.

While the hobbits and Gimli's conversation was fascinating in its own little way, mainly reminiscing about Bilbo's adventures with Gloin and the treasure they found, it washed over Jane. She stared into the beautiful distance and suddenly felt not only unbearably homesick and lost, but also alone. Before, tramping about in the wild with Boromir, she had mostly felt grumpy when she had time to feel anything at all, but with the calm atmosphere in Rivendell and the lack of immediate danger, she had more time to think, to ruminate over everything.

Unfortunately, the hobbits and Gimli were much too consumed by their food and their stories, that they did not notice how upset Jane was. However, as Boromir wandered in, wearing a scarlet velvet tunic with brushed hair, to tell them it was dinner time, he most certainly noticed.

He had no idea what to do, though. He looked at her worriedly as they walked along the Hall together, the hobbits either bouncing along or supporting Bilbo. When they reached the Hall, he looked at Gandalf for support, who just winked, at Aragorn, who was talking to Elrond's daughter, again, to Elrond, who was looking at Aragorn, and then back at Jane. Not for the first time, he desperately wished Faramir was here. An elf beckoned them over and sat them on his table, where he introduced himself as Lindir, and told them that there was to be music in the Hall tonight and how he expected singing from them. Bilbo, clearly an old hat at this and a given, started telling everyone how he had first met Lindir, many years ago and Jane lost interest. She picked at her food.

"You should eat," said Boromir, as kindly and softly as he could, so quite gruffly. She started.

"Oh, yes. I know," she glanced at him, noting the combed hair...and beard? She smiled at him, wondering why he had deviated from the hairy sweaty path he had chosen to impress Aragorn. She speared something green with her fork. "Do you have brothers or sisters?" she asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting conversation.

Boromir found it surprising but strangely fitting that when he needed Faramir the most; he came through for Boromir, despite not being present. "Yes, I have a brother called Faramir," he said. "He is younger than me by five years."

"You are...near?" asked Jane, knowing that word was not quite right. Boromir smiled.

"Yes, we are close. Our mother died when we were young and I have tried to look after him as best as I could," he said, rather sadly.

"I am sorry on your mother," commiserated Jane. "I know you look after Faramir good," she continued. Boromir raised his eyebrows. "Always you look after me," she explained.

Boromir felt this was a triumph and restrained himself from jumping up on the table and shouting with glee.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Jane. "I have a big sister. She is twenty years old than me." Boromir raised his eyebrows again. "It is a long time," Jane said with a smile. "My poor mother!" Boromir laughed. "My mother and father are very very old," she continued, sadly, "and very ill. They do not know me." Boromir put his hand on her hand and it would have been a bonding moment, if Pippin hadn't accidentally tipped gravy onto the table, drenching everything, including Boromir and Jane's hands. By the time Pippin had stopped laughing, apologised, trying in vain to clear everything up and stuffed all the rolls into his pockets, it was time for the music, and everything was cleared very quickly and the fire lit. Bilbo hurried off to talk about his poem with Aragorn, Sam couldn't stop asking Frodo questions he didn't know the answers to, Pippin and Merry had procured themselves more pudding and Gimli was growling at Legolas.

A boringly beautiful she-elf stepped in front of the fire and started singing a haunting melody and hypnotised, Jane nodded off, leaning on Boromir's shoulder. Paralysed, he could feel every nerve on his right side singing to him, while the rest of his body was on fire; it was sweet, sweet agony. Aragorn caught sight of him looking terrified but ecstatic at the same time and whispered to Arwen, who glanced their way and laughed.

After the song had ended, Boromir scooped Jane up, effortlessly, and walked out the Hall, along the corridors to her room, slowly, ever so slowly, telling himself that it was because he did not want to wake her, rather than because holding her in his arms was the most erotic experience he had ever had. He laid her down on her bed and draped a blanket over her and stared at her for a while.

He had met more beautiful women, he told himself. He had met more charming women...she was very rude, probably the rudest. And he didn't know what kind of family she came from, which seemed to be of great importance to his father whenever his father had tried to get him married. And she didn't speak Westron, although the effort and the speed she was learning at would have impressed Faramir at his most scholarly. He had found her in a river, he reasoned, which is never a good sign. And yet, Gandalf agreed she was harmless, whatever the magic which had brought her so far from home. She didn't seem to know how to return or have a great inclination to do so. She was all alone in the world, and she looked very vulnerable while sleeping, so sweet, like a baby deer... Boromir told himself to pull himself together; he was a man, for Valar's sake! He had been fighting in wars since before she was born. That thought, however, just reminded him that she was part of the Fellowship for some ungodly reason and made him worry even more. He walked out the room to get some air, not before, however, kissing her on the forehead.

And so the days past, much the same. Aragorn left with Arwen's twin brothers to try and find the Black Riders, giving Boromir not much to do except train the hobbits and Jane and brood, and of course smoke with Gandalf. Legolas spent his time either making Jane's bow, or walking among the trees talking to them. Gimli was either found drinking, smoking or trying to persuade people that Legolas was mad evidenced by talking to himself, or a she-elf. Merry and Pippin ran around eating cake. Frodo spent his time with Bilbo and Sam and Jane packed, repacked, repacked again, wracked their brains in case they had forgotten something, folded clothes as tightly as possible, and looked around for as much rope as they could find. Jane was quite happy, if tired, knowing that she was being useful. Boromir taught her the sword every morning, Legolas helped her with her archery in the afternoon, in the evening she and Sam put their heads together and whenever she had a free minute the hobbits taught her some runes and some simple sentences. Eventually, autumn passed and winter began, although it was hard to tell it was winter in the shelter of Imaldris. The packing was done, Aragorn returned from the wilderness, Legolas presented Jane with her very own bow, and goodbyes were being said as they stood in the courtyard as Elrond prepared to give his speech.

It was heartbreaking. Arwen was gazing at Aragorn with such loyalty in her eyes, as if willing him to know her heart, while Aragorn stared at the ground, in agitation. The Elf and Dwarf were giving each other evils, unhappy that they had to spend so much time together and Frodo's big childlike eyes were so wide and worried. Even the hobbits seemed somewhat subdued. Gandalf was in a kindly mood and smiled at Jane. She looked up at Boromir, whose face was set. How many battles and wars had he fought? She wondered how many scars he had from injuries, how many wounds he had received. He was not scared of the peril ahead.

Jane was bloody terrified. Not only did she know exactly what horrors lay ahead and how much it would cost each of them, she didn't know that she would survive it, and of course, there was the problem of Boromir; he was going to die at that river and she didn't know what she was supposed to do with this information, that for the last few months she had repressed deep into her mind. She looked up at him again, worried.

Elrond was speaking now, Jane didn't understand all the words, but she knew what he was saying: that any member of the Fellowship could turn back at any time of their choosing. She looked up hopefully at him and he very subtly shook his head, not you, he seemed to say. What a bastard, she thought, this is so unfair, I would quite happily spend my time in Rivendell helping with the washing or something, but oh no, he has to get the human out of the elf land. Bastard.

Everyone was very much lost in their own thoughts. Merry was thinking that he and Pippin had gone too far this time. Pippin was thinking about lunch. Sam was worrying that he hadn't packed enough sausages, Frodo was wondering if he could do this. Gimli was promising himself that he would kill more orcs than the elf, Legolas was thinking much along the same lines. Gandalf was thinking about Saruman and Sauron. Aragorn was wondering if he would ever get what he wanted the most in the world and that he probably didn't deserve it anyway. Boromir promised himself that Jane would come to no harm during this quest. Jane was still repeating bastard, bastard, bastard...

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GREETINGS! Well, I've been away a while - gone are the days when I used to write a chapter in a night...however, I'm back! Encouraged by reviews, I must add, to return, so thank you very much. And a Happy New Year to you all.