Jane 8
In which things get a little serious...
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As Jane wearily tramped along the countryside, pulling poor Bill the pony as she thought Sam could do without all the extra work and she wanted someone to talk to, a strong sense of déjà vu seemed to be dogging her. With a sense of Romantic nostalgia, she remembered being dragged through the wild by the big hairy one and here she was again. But this time, there was Rivendell in their sights, merely certain death. Great, she thought, now I've depressed myself. She searched for something positive to cheer herself up. This time, she thought, I have company, Aragorn...mainly taciturn and pensive, not much fun, she thought dismissively, Gandalf, grumpy, Gimli and Legolas were far too wrapped up in denial over their bromance. The Hobbits were fairly fun, she thought, but Pippin was exhausting at times (too excited about the adventure) and Sam and Frodo were, like Aragorn, brooding. Was there nothing improved since the last time she spent traipsing about in the backend of beyond? She pondered, forlorn.
"SHOES!" she cried joyfully.
Boromir, who was walking next to her, looked at her oddly. "Yes?" he asked, almost fearfully.
"I have shoes," she said, proudly and happily.
Boromir, neither for the first time nor the last, questioned whether he would ever understand her. "Yes," he confirmed, feeling as if he were talking to a child. "Well done."
Jane rolled her eyes. Did he deliberately misunderstand her, or if it were just due to his rather feudal upbringing and surroundings that he thought she was thick? "Before, no shoes; bad. Now, shoes, so maybe not so bad. Yes?"
Boromir thought he understood and was unsure whether he should feel insulted.
"God, you're chatty," she muttered in English, the sarcasm being the only part that Boromir understood. "I wonder what I'd be doing if I were at home?" she thought out loud.
"What language is that?" Frodo asked Gandalf.
"It is Jane's language, Frodo," he answered, witheringly. He obviously did not like to be asked questions he did not know the answer to.
("I'd probably have got a job by now," mused Jane, again in English to Bill, "Some very boring PA position, answering phones, I'd be on again, killing time," she continued. "I wonder which is worse, death by boredom or death by orc?")
"It is called Ing- glish, master Hobbit, but where they speak it, I do not know," answered Boromir, pleased to know something Gandalf did not. "She calls her land Ing-gland but it is not on any map I have seen."
"Nor I," said Aragorn, and that ended that conversation and Pippin started telling a tale about mushrooms.
Everyone, except the Men and the Wizard and the Elf...and probably the Dwarf, felt tired after the first day but quite satisfied nonetheless, when they all sat down around the campfire that Aragorn quickly built for them. Sam told Jane that he was in charge of the food, all puffed up with pride and so she didn't have the heart to argue with him, nor indeed, the energy. He quickly got to work, taking out frying pans, pouring water into pots and peeling vegetables, while Boromir stormed off to collect some more firewood. Gimli took out a pipe and started puffing away, making Jane feel quite relaxed. She wondered how what he would say if she asked for a puff. She didn't know if women smoked here. She'd never seen Boromir smoke so she couldn't badger him into letting her borrow his pipe. She had given up smoking years ago, but was feeling the strain because of all the stress. By the time Boromir returned with an arm full of sticks, the aroma emanating from the pot was so mouth watering, Pippin was almost panting with excitement. Jane started passing around plates and cutlery and Sam ladled out his stew, which they all ate in relative silence, save Merry's burps. There was a squabble after dinner, as to the entertainment. Merry and Pippin wanted to sing a song from the Shire, Sam wanted to hear an Elvish song and looked pleadingly at Legolas, Boromir had asked his fellow soldier Gimli about dwarfish songs and Gandalf wanted to smoke in peace and repeated this several times, each more emphatically than the last.
"What would the lady like?" asked Frodo, diplomatically. It took Jane a second to realise she was the lady; it was nice to be treated with deference for once. What Jane really wanted was a foot rub, but knew that she would have to choose something that would please everyone and so asked the only person who hadn't said anything; Aragorn.
"Aragorn, maybe you sing?" she asked, trying to be polite. The ranger smiled at her and nodded, acquiescingly. He cleared his throat.
"The leaves were long, the grass was green,
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,
And in the glade a light was seen
Of stars in shadow shimmering.
Tinúviel was dancing there
To music of a pipe unseen,
And light of stars was in her hair,
And in her raiment glimmering.
There Beren came from mountains cold,
And lost he wandered under leaves,
And where the Elven-river rolled
He walked alone and sorrowing.
He peered between the hemlock-leaves
And saw in wonder flowers of gold
Upon her mantle and her sleeves,
And her hair like shadow following...."
Lulled by Aragorn's soft voice, Jane's head nodded and landed softly on Boromir's shoulder. Aragorn stopped abruptly.
"She means nothing by it," explained Boromir, his voice low and even. "In Rivendell, every time we listened to a song sung in the Hall, she drifted off. For my part, I am just glad there is some way to silence the beast." Pippin and Merry guffawed; Jane did talk a lot.
"Will we not wake her by talking?" asked Sam, worried, he was fond of her as she had taken a liking to the pony and had packed everything with him.
"Nay, when we were in the wild together, it was all I could do to wake her!" smiled Boromir, reminiscing on the times he had tickled her awake, Jane shrieking with laughter when shaking her awake had produced no effect.
"Boromir, how is it you came to know Lady Jane?" asked Frodo, who had been too wrapped up in his own, rather pressing concerns, to have asked before. Boromir unwrapped her bedding and laid her down, very tenderly, on the ground.
"I found her lying in a river bed, in the strangest garments...short trousers like that of yours, Master Hobbit, and a shirt with yellow ducks imprinted on it, very badly burnt. She was completely covered in a strange white powder, it was unlike anything I have ever seen..." he trailed off, staring into the fire. "I thought she was an insane simpleton...and now I know," he said, entirely seriously, with a little twinkle in his eye, making the whole company laugh. It was true that Boromir could be rather abrupt and proud, and was not entirely keen on this mission, and so the company was warming to him slowly. His obvious regard for Jane, however, softened their hearts to him, as a man completely and ineptly in love often does. And especially a man who could admit that the woman he was in love with was a strange lunatic. "She is from a land so far away none have heard of it and is not sure how she came to be here." Boromir looked at Gandalf, as if to explain, but the Wizard, even if he knew, was saying nothing. "Gondor will look after her," he said decidedly, looking at her sleeping face.
They all went to sleep shortly after that, except Aragorn who was first on the night shift.
It's bloody boring walking, Jane thought, her hamstrings aching. They had been walking for days now, but the scenery stayed the same, which was frustrating. It seemed they were crawling along at a snail's pace. Gimli was muttering in Dwarfish, probably cursing, but apart from that everyone was silent, even Pippin. The wind was shrieking past them and the sun was high in the sky, burning down on them with a cruel rage. Every fanfic that Jane had read usually skipped the dull monotony of putting one foot in front of the other, trying to make it more interesting by making the hardships bond the Fellowship. Jane mainly felt anger that she was here, everyone else had a choice and could leave and go home whenever they wanted, but Jane had nowhere to go. She mentally tried to calculate how long she had been in Middle Earth and how long she had to go before she could get back to London. This occupied her thoughts for some time and for the most part, kept her mind away from thoughts of Boromir being impaled by many arrows.
Lunch was a slice of bread and a hunk of cheese. The Hobbits complained vociferously; "I don't think you understand, Strider, we're Hobbits! Maybe a loaf..." Pippin said hopefully.
"Mister Frodo needs to keep his strength up!" complained Sam.
"I'm fine, Sam," said Frodo quietly.
"A full stomach and a long march will make you ill," explained Boromir, ever the soldier, coming to Aragorn's aid when it looked like Merry and Pippin were about to attack him. "It's best to eat little and often." Aragorn and Boromir shared a look of understanding, which Jane caught with a smile. She nibbled her slice of bread delicately, watching Gimli's beard get covered with crumbs as he tore into his slice of bread and chomped on his cheese. "I do like the dwarves," said Boromir to her, his eyes following hers. "Excellent table manners..."
Jane blinked, understood then laughed and smiled at Boromir, who smiled back. In the long tramp up "the bloody mountain" as Jane referred to it, Jane tried to mentally prepare herself for fighting; she knew that the first time they would encounter any enemies was in Moria, so she had a far bit of time beforehand. Offence was the best defence, she repeated to herself, stick close to Boromir, remember to move your feet, pointy end goes in the baddie. It was a good mantra to repeat as they trudged up.
The night was rather cold and luckily Jane wasn't asked for guard duty, She slept as close to the fire and as close to Boromir as she could, curled up in a ball, clutching the bow Legolas had made for her. And she slept fitfully; she dreamt of violence, of caster sugar, but mostly a man being showered with arrows and a large horn split in two.
As they broke their camp in the morning, Jane chanced a look at Boromir. The green eyes snapped away from Frodo and back to her.
"Good morning, Jane," he said.
"Good morning, Boromir," she replied, shifting her bow uneasily.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, politely.
"Um, yes," she lied.
Despite previously thinking he was an old man, in his forties, he really was quite young for one of the descendants of Numenor, she realised. How old was he now? She couldn't remember.
"What year are you?" she asked, cautiously, unsure if this was a rude question or not in Gondorian culture, but he answered back quite regularly, so apparently not.
"How old are you," he corrected. "I am forty one years old," he replied, amused by her curiosity. She stumbled on a root and he grabbed her arm, keeping her upright.
"Thank you," she said, blushing a little. "And you are not, with, um," she faltered over the words, realising that she just didn't have to vocabulary. But she was determined to make herself understood. "There is no...Lady Boromir, I mean?" she asked.
Boromir laughed. "No, I am unmarried." Jane muttered the new word under her breath, committing it to memory.
"And why not?" she asked. Boromir rolled his eyes.
"You are very inquisitive today!" he dodged the question.
"Inquisitive?" she asked. Boromir snorted.
"You ask a lot of questions," he elaborated. She nodded, understanding.
"So, why unmarried?" she asked, relentlessly. She reminded Boromir of his brother as a child, always asking questions, curiously, naively, interested in everything, matching all the pieces together in his head until he understood.
"Why not?" he said, carelessly. Aragorn, who had been eavesdropping, snorted at him, but Gimli, who had also been eavesdropping, decided to interrupt.
"Exactly! Womenfolk are a nuisance," he cried, very matter of fact. "Not you, my dear," he apologised to Jane, who raised her eyebrows, who understood enough to realise she had been insulted. "I didn't realise, I mean, ARGH this is why they are a nuisance!"
Jane pondered for a second. "There are lady dwarves?" she asked, incredulously.
"Of course!" cried Gimli, aghast. "How do you think we are born?" He looked at her for an answer.
"Well, maybe, pop out from ground?" said Jane, shrugging her shoulders. She had not thought it through. Gimli puffed up, but Aragorn saved her from a retort.
"Lady dwarves are very like male dwarves," he explained to her. "And they are often...overlooked." Over Gimli's head he mimed a beard and Jane's jaw dropped and she looked to Boromir for confirmation; he nodded, smirking. Legolas looked fairly disgusted, for Legolas at any rate. At least that's how Jane interpreted the faint crinkle on the bridge of his nose.
All sorts of questions formed in her head; were lady dwarves' voices as low and gruff? Did lady dwarves wear dresses? Did they fight as well? How did dwarves court – how did they knew the gender of the dwarf they were talking/flirting with? She shook them out of her mind, though. She had to stay on track.
"You are not married then, Gimli?" she half asked, amused by the old bachelor.
"Garuff NO! NEVER! Harrumph!" he snorted at that ridiculous idea, while Aragorn concealed his laughter with a cough, Boromir concealed his badly and Jane didn't bother.
"You are old not to be married," she remarked to Boromir, after she had stopped giggling. He did not like where this was going. Not only was Jane questioning his lack of romantic partnership and reminding him of his father's unremitting pushing for a union with a lady and an heir, but it was awkward to be asked these questions by someone Boromir had lain next to, wrapped in his fur cloak and tried in vain not to think about. Naked. Or at all! Especially in front of Aragorn, who, after days in the wild together, was getting quite adept at catching Boromir staring at Jane and making him blush, embarrassed he was obsessing about a woman, a girl, half his age. Did she just call me old?
"Perhaps," he said, vaguely, hoping she would lose interest, very conscious of the age gap now.
"So why not married?" she repeated.
"You are like a dog with a bone! Jane, I am a soldier," Boromir explained. Once Jane had made sense of this sentence she tried to think of how to ask her next question, humming tonelessly to herself.
"You not fall in...the thing?" she asked. Boromir looked at her questioningly. "You know, the thing. Um..." she pointed to her heart.
Oh Valar, he thought, she would have to ask that question. If Faramir were here, he thought grimly, he would be laughing his head off at how uncomfortable this was.
Luckily for Boromir, Aragorn decided to take pity on him. "We shall make camp here, I think," he said.
"I'll go collect some firewood," grumbled Boromir and stormed off before Jane could say anything. She stood, nonplussed, looking at his back recede into the distance with alarming speed.
"In love," came a low voice. Jane turned and faced Aragorn. "It's called falling in love." Jane widened her eyes in understanding and smiled at him.
Jane decided to drop the subject, but it confirmed all her fears. Boromir had spent his entire life dedicated to Gondor. He didn't have a proper, rounded life, which he deserved. He wasn't fighting for his girlfriend, like Aragorn, which made her feel sad. It seemed like such a waste. As she sat around the fire, next to Legolas who was also staring at the flames, she wondered what she could do really. Boromir did not have the strength to resist the Ring and it was important that he didn't, otherwise Frodo and Sam wouldn't leave at the precise moment they do, she thought. If they leave any later, or not at all, who knows how the story ends? But how much have I already changed it?
It's just a story, argued her inner logic. But I'm in it, she argued. And Fan Fiction said I could die and I can feel pain, she thought,wriggling her blistery toes.
Boromir tried to avoid her for a couple of weeks, much to Aragorn's amusement. She took to talking to Legolas, trying to bring him out of his shell and talk about his homeland, Mirkwood, with Gimli listening and occasionally chipping in. Boromir bonded with Pippin and Merry, chatting about the Shire and ale. If Jane did not understand a word, she always looked to Boromir to help her and unconsciously, they always pitched their sleeping rolls next to each other and slept with their backs to each other. Jane spent half the time she was supposed to be resting wondering how she was to live with the knowledge that Boromir was going to die soon and Boromir half-hoping that Jane would not stretch after they awoke and half-hoping she would and then dreaming about her.
The Ring did not affect Jane at all. But it was working hard on Boromir. Boromir felt the pressures of his life heavy on his shoulders and the stress of Jane's presence was starting to get to him. In Rivendell he was prepared to admit to himself that he had feelings for her, but they were growing so strongly and she was in his company all the time. There was no release. His attraction to her was beginning to eclipse everything else. He couldn't have her, though. It was completely inappropriate, they were on a quest to rid the world of evil and save his people, he reminded himself. If they were in Minas Tirith, what would he do? He didn't know; ask Faramir for advice, most likely. She didn't even seem aware of his feelings, he thought, deflated, and the Ring picked up on his dejection. As he drifted off into sleep, it started whispering to him about how powerful he'd become if he took the Ring and how irresistible he would be to Jane, and how he could achieve his two greatest goals; peace for Gondor and Jane. Of course, he didn't remember this when he awoke, but the feeling of unease remained.
After chatting with his fellow Hobbits, Pippin bounced up to Boromir and engaged him in conversation. " Do you like Jane?" he asked curiously. Boromir looked at him, amused and slightly suspicious.
"Of course I like Jane. I like everyone, Pippin. We are all friends here in this company," he replied, trying to keep his voice low, so no one else would hear him, and as unconcerned as possible. Pippin grinned.
"What about Aragorn?" he continued. Why do they keep asking me these infernal question, Boromir internally cried, I don't see anyone asking Aragorn about these things.
"I'm sure he likes Jane, too," he answered, diplomatically, trying to dodge the inevitable.
"No," laughed Pippin. "I mean do you like him?" Boromir wondered how much Pippin understood of Gondorian politics. How could he explain to Pippin how abandoned he felt by Aragorn, who had spent his life wandering freely around Middle Earth as rangers are wont to do, while Boromir's brother and father were sacrificing their lives and, in Denethor's case, sanity to protect lands for Aragorn's return? How the pain of the death of each man in Boromir's battalion stung him, pierced him like a knife while Aragorn was uninflected? How he didn't dare hope that Aragorn could solve all the problems in Gondor because he didn't trust hope anymore, had spent too long fighting orc after orc to see any end in it. How he desperately wanted to please Aragorn but also wanted an apology, or an explanation for why he hadn't come forward before. Or at least why he hadn't told Boromir who he was the first time they had met.
"Yes, of course I like Aragorn," he said, a little sadly, for it was true.
"Do you like Aragorn in the same way you like Jane?" asked Pippin, sensing that this question would catch Boromir off guard.
"Of course not!" said Boromir, disgusted, then irritated when he realised how easily he had been tricked. "I mean... you little tricksy bastard!" he hissed.
"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone!" sang Pippin, joyfully, escaping before bodily harm met him. Boromir didn't know how much he trusted Pippin with that information, but Pippin kept his word. Boromir was unaware the reason that Pippin didn't tell anyone, despite being an awful gossip, was that everyone already knew and were taking bets on how long Boromir could go without a declaration. A declaration to the Fellowship or merely to Jane, they could not decide on, but it was a popular topic of conversation. Sam was sure that a big brave man like Boromir would win Jane over very quickly, but felt an affinity with him due to their reticence to talk to the girl they both admired so much. Pippin and Merry thought Boromir's affection and Jane's obliviousness was hilarious and it was only due to Frodo's stern command that they behave and not interfere that Boromir was not subjected to strong teasing. Gimli thought Boromir should man up and tell her soon and Legolas thought Jane could do better. Gandalf kept muttering about how he wanted to knock their two heads together. Aragorn started winking at Boromir every time he caught him staring at Jane, making Boromir's blushes even more potent.
Boromir continued to teach Merry and Pippin the sword whenever they stopped for a rest, which took his mind off Jane for even though he used to train her she carried a short sword, had decided that she had reached her fencing peak and should stick to archery, a decision possibly influenced by her new best friend, Legolas. Boromir did not counter it, there was no way he could confront her, even lightly, with a sword and as for correcting her posture, her grip or her stance, like he had done effortlessly in the past, that was out of the question. Just thinking about it brought him out in a cold sweat; he could not touch her under any circumstances. So he concentrated on getting the little ones up to scratch on their swords. This was another huge worry for him, that he was concerned that Aragorn and Gandalf took too lightly, that the Hobbits were totally untrained for war and could easily get hurt and killed. It was folly, hethought, absolute folly to let such little people on a journey such as this. And so he spent a lot of time with them, teaching them.
"Get away from the blade, Pippin...one your toes, good, very good...I want you to react, not think," he said, encouraged by Pippin's confident strokes.
"That won't be hard," muttered Sam.
"Move your feet!" suggested Aragorn.
"Quite good, Pippin," congratulated Merry.
"Thank you," said Pippin, with a little bow.
Jane clapped and Boromir felt very subconscious again and accidentally scratched Pippin. Horrified, he apologised profusely and the Hobbits jumped on him, laughing and trying to tickle him. Aragorn and Jane laughed at the sight of the big bear of a man taken down by two children sized hobbits and were taken aback when Sam asked, with consternation in his voice; "What is that?"
A wispy cloud was darting around the sky, moving towards them with peculiar speed. Legolas was staring at it, his Elven eyes trying to make it out.
"It's just a cloud," said Gimli, uncertainly.
"It's moving against the wind, fast," countered Boromir, worriedly.
"Crebain from Dunland!" clarified the Elf. Everyone ran for cover, Sam poured water over the fire and grabbed his pack and Frodo's and helped Frodo hide under a rock. Legolas skipped under cover the quickest, with Gimli huffing and puffing behind him. Gandalf's grey cloak covered him up well enough. Boromir shouted to Merry and Pippin to take cover, ushering them under a nearby rock and he grabbed Jane's hand and swept her under a bush. They lay on their backs, looking up through the leaves at the sky, at the strange black birds crowing and encircling their encampment and quickly flying out. It all happened very quickly, so quickly that Jane had not noticed that Boromir had grabbed her hand and was still holding it. She squeezed it and looked up at him and mouthed "thank you," at him. He mouthed back "you're welcome". He pulled her out of the bush, before the company and let go.
He's very underrated in the books and film, she thought. No one ever gives him a lot of credit; he found Rivendell after three months in the wild, without a map and without a clue as to where it was, without a horse and with me as a burden; he always takes care of the hobbits, he's always the one making sure they're ok, looking after me and being very patient. He's really quite sweet.
"We go over the mountain, the Pass of Caradhras!" finished Gandalf. She blinked, having missed the speech and looked up at the snowy peaks. This was not going to be fun, she thought.
Boromir insisted on taking more firewood up the mountain, because he feared everyone would freeze to death. Gandalf wasn't keen on starting fires, Jane had noted, as the smoke would only alert the Crebain to their location but given a choice between detection and freezing to death, he would choose the latter.
"Bill can take a bit more, can't you, lad?" said Sam to his beloved pony, who looked at him mournfully.
The road they took up the mountain twisted and turned a narrow path wound under a sheer wall of cliffs to the left and on the right was a gulf of darkness where the land fell into a sharp and deep ravine. They climbed up the acute slope in a line, laboriously, when it started to snow, softly at first and then almost violently.
Luckily, Jane had months to prepare for this. Although she had known it was a fruitless venture and that made it even more frustrating for her climbing up the showy heights, she had made sure to pack hats and gloves and plenty of pairs of socks. For everyone. She handed them out as soon as the bitingly cold wind started to push the snow in their faces, and wrapped the hobbits up in scarves and shawls. The seamstresses in Rivendell had been bemused by her requests, looking at her as if she were insane, perhaps because they had forgotten what it was to be outside an environment which was not controlled by Elrond and therefore always mild or perhaps because she did not know half the words she needed to explain what she wanted; they didn't have any completely waterproof material. Elrond provided them with jackets lined with fur, but as going up Caradhras was never part of the plan, Jane had thought she should gather extra furs and gloves and the like. She offered a furry hat to Aragorn, who, surprisingly accepted and Boromir, who did, too. She thought that they would be too proud or manly to accept. She gave two pairs of socks to Gandalf, without asking, who raised his eyebrow.
"You are old and your feet are cold," she explained. He snorted, which she took to be a thanks. She pulled her hat over her hair and wrapped a scarf around her neck and tied a shawl over her tunic, thanking her lucky stars her boots seemed waterproof.
"You have done well," said Aragorn, smiling at her and clapping her on the shoulder. Jane beamed, she felt like she was a proper member of the Fellowship now she had contributed something. Everyone was warm for now. "Snow seldom falls so heavily so far south and never so low in the mountains," he said, worried.
"This is a contrivance of the Enemy, then," said Boromir. "They say he can govern storms in the Mountain of Shadow in Mordor's borders."
"His arm has grown long to reach us here, three hundred leagues away!" grumbled Gimli.
"Indeed," answered Gandalf.
While they had halted to put on extra layers supplied by Jane, the snow had slackened but as they continued, it returned with a fury, a whistling blinding blizzard that even Boromir, who was the most used to this kind of weather, found difficult to walk through. The poor hobbits, Jane noticed, were bent double, using the bigger folks are a wind block but it was obvious they would not last long. They all halted, coming to an unspoken agreement. Eerie noises, perhaps a trick of the wind, swirled round them. Laughing and shrill cries, manic and high pitched. Then stones crashed down the mountain side and landed beside them; they ducked in close to the side.
"Caradhras the Cruel, it has long been called," said Gimli, "these fell voices and attacks are aimed at us!"
Jane was too scared and cold to say anything. She leaned on Boromir for support and hoped they would choose to leave the mountain soon.
"We must camp here while the storm holds," decided Gandalf. "This is the most shelter we will find," he said, grimly.
Jane wanted to cry. This was desperate.
They huddled with their backs to the wall, but the drifting snow soon buried the Hobbits and Boromir had to dig Frodo out within minutes. "This will be the death of the Halflings, Gandalf! They are frozen and Jane...well, she has stopped talking." He looked at Gandalf desperately.
"So I've noticed," he said dryly and pulled out a leather flask from his pack. "Give them a mouthful of this each, for everyone. It is very precious. It is miruvor, the cordial of Imaldris. Pass it round!"
As soon as everyone had sipped the warm and fragrant liquor, they felt a new strength of heart and the drowsiness left their limbs. Jane felt slightly tipsy, but without all the disadvantages. The hobbits stopped shivering so much and smiled a bit. Boromir then convinced Gandalf to start a fire, but it proved too hard to strike a flame in the swirling wind; Jane almost managed it, having been an avid smoker in her youth, but in the end Gandalf had to help them out with his magic stick and some fancy magic words.
This cheered Jane up a lot. A spout of green and blue flame sprang out of his staff and the wood and kindling Boromir had dragged up the mountain flared and spluttered. "Wow," she said.
"Harrumph. I may as well have written Gandalf is here in the sky," he grumbled.
"You can do that?" asked Jane, who only received a scowl as an answer. "Wow," repeated Jane, who was very impressed. Everyone was pleased with the warmth and huddle around the little dancing flames, but the snow was still upon them.
Jane leant her head against Boromir again, trying to repeat to herself that they would not die on this mountain, they would get down it, they would be fine and trying not to cry because she was sure that the tears would freeze. "Do not fall asleep, little one," he whispered to her and put his arm around her.
Eventually the fire burned low and Aragorn declared it almost dawn and the snowflakes were fewer and fewer and then they stopped. "Thank God," said Jane. But the snow was still a massive obstacle to their retreat as outside the ash of their fire, it stood far above the Hobbit's heads, piled by the wind. It looked like they were trapped, she thought.
"Gandalf could go before us with a bright flame, he might melt a path for you," suggested Legolas. Quiet Legolas, thought Jane, always happy and light, and naive, didn't anyone ever tell you; never piss off the wizard?
Gandalf looked grumpier than ever; "Maybe Legolas could fly over the mountain and fetch the sun while I'm at it!" he snapped.
Jane poked Boromir in the ribs, for he was fiddling with his tinderbox and missing out on the entertainment.
"What are we going to do?" wailed Pippin.
"As we say in Gondor, when heads are at a loss, bodies must serve! Aragorn and I will force a path," he declared and shoved his tinderbox in his path. They were quite a match for the snow. Aragorn was the taller of the two, though not by much, but Boromir broader and more heavily built and their combined strength had them toiling heavily and quickly.
"It look like you are swim, Boromir!" cried Jane, to cheer everyone up, and it did look like Boromir was swimming in the snow. "Swimming, it looks like I am swimming, Jane," he cried back, his voice full of strain. The Hobbits stood and watched the bizarre sight while Sam and Jane tied the packs back onto Bill the pony.
"Well," said Legolas, "I go to find the Sun!" and jumped above everyone's heads onto the snow and shot away around the rocky bend. Gandalf scowled heavily at him and Gimli looked on, amazed.
"Oh he is a nuisance, yes, Gandalf?" asked Jane.
Gandalf hummed in concurrence. Boromir and Aragorn turned the corner and were out of sight and Gimli, Gandalf, Jane and the Hobbits (and Bill) were left for an hour to wait for their friends, until Legolas skipped back and hopped down.
"Where is the sun?" asked Jane, with a smile.
"I did not find it, dear Jane, but I did find a great drift where our two men are almost buried. But I told them it was not very wide and after it the snow grows less until it is only a light powder on top of the earth," replied Legolas.
"The Cruel will of Caradhras! That drift was put there to stop us escaping!" grumbled Gimli.
"Frodo, tell me please, what is drift?" Jane quietly asked Frodo.
"It is a big mound of snow created by the wind," he answered kindly.
"Ah, thank you," she said. A pause. "And what is mound?" Frodo smiled at her.
"A small hill," he explained.
"Ah, thank you," she said. Another pause. "And what is created?"
"It means the same as made, Jane," answered Boromir's voice, coming from the passage in the snow. He appeared, with Aragorn behind him. "I wish we had some spades, but we did well enough," he said, looking at Aragorn who nodded. He's gone into leader of the soldiers mode, realised Jane, who quite liked bossy Boromir.
"It will still be too difficult for the Hobbits to get through," said Aragorn.
"Then what are we going to do!" wailed Merry. Jane patted him on the head and turned to Boromir and Aragorn.
"I am weary but there is still strength left in me, we will carry the little ones and those who follow behind will make shift to tread our path," explained Boromir and he picked up Merry, instructing him to cling to his back as he needed his arms. Aragorn followed with Pippin and the hobbits marvelled at Boromir's strength, the passage had been forced by only his limbs and even now he was widening the path. Eventually, after two hundred metres, they came to the great drift, which looked like a sheer and sudden wall, twice Aragorn's height, but the two men had already forged a path through it. Pippin and Merry were set down to wait with Legolas, more than a little in awe of the Big Folk's strength, while they returned to carry Sam and Frodo. It did not escape Jane's notice that Aragorn was very careful not to let Boromir carry Frodo. She motioned for Gimli to sit on Bill and ushered Gandalf ahead, while she led the poor scared pony through the path. Boromir stood worried at the drift.
"I was going to come and get you," he said to Jane, a little put out. He had been looking forward to carrying Jane. Gimli half fell off the pony and Jane bent down to steady him.
"I am fine, Boromir, thank you," she said. He bit his lip, disappointed, and led the way through the tunnel in the drift, which was not very thick and as Legolas had reported, the snow was thinner and the way down, although slippy, looked easier. Everyone was exhausted after a sleepless night and their bones ached and their stomachs rumbled. Jane wished she had a pair of skis as she carefully chose where to put her feet. The hobbits had the edge on everyone, apart from the Elf, as their sure footed ways were a keen advantage. Jane slipped on some shard and Boromir ran to help her up.
"I am fine," she repeated, but he walked closely with her all the way down the mountain, glad to help her.
When they reached the bottom, Gandalf declared grimly; "The mountain has defeated us and we must choose a different path."
Jane knew where they were headed now and would have gladly gone back up Caradhras.
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Well, thank you very much for all your reviews! I had a look at the book, and the chapters after they leave Rivendell and go up the mountain are very Boromir orientated, which was great - and so I borrowed from them HEAVILY. I felt bad, like I was plagarising and then I almost slapped myself for stupidity. Anyway, they're less silly, but there you go. Hope you enjoy!!