Plain Jane in Thirteen Chapters

Chapter

Nine

And

Nine

Tenths

Properly

Edited

This

Time

They all followed Gimli as he ran off into the darkness into a small chamber on the left. The ground was scattered with dwarf and goblin skeletons and there was a small slit of a window. It was the most light they had seen in four days and they all blinked at it.

It stunk, Jane noted. All of Moria had a strange smell, part musty, part coal and ash, part dead body, part dust and part something that seemed magical, but perhaps not in a good way. This chamber, covered in dead bodies, much more densely than anywhere else, smelled so much worse. Jane gagged a bit.

Gimli knelt in front of a tomb, muttering in Dwarfish and Boromir stepped forward and put his hand on Gimli's shoulder in support. That was nice of him, Jane thought. Everyone stood around in sympathy, except Legolas who lingered by the door, looking even more agitated than usual and muttering to Aragorn.

Gandalf moved to pick up a book and Jane sat down on the ground, her head spinning. What…the…hell? She shook her head. What…the…hell?

"Jane?" asked Merry. "Are you feeling well?"

"Mshguh," she spluttered.

"Is this about the thing we told you?" he whispered. She looked up at his concerned face.

"I no like fanfiction," she muttered. Merry looked at her worriedly.

"I don't know much about Big Folk," he began, hesitantly, "Or females, in general, but I don't think this is the normal reaction to finding out a man is in love with you."

Pippin, unnoticed, crept towards a shaft.

"Boromir is a good man," said Merry, softly, "He…has a nice beard and all his teeth. He's very kind. He'd make a good husband," he said.

Pippin touched a skeleton and it's skull fell down the mine shaft. Everyone turned, horrified towards him and waited with baited breath, as it banged down like a ball down the stairs, pulling the rest of the body, then a chain, then a bucket.

It banged down into the deep. Pippin's eyes were like saucers as he turned to face Gandalf for punishment and rebuke. The wizard's beard quivered as he snatched his staff back from Pippin.

Everything was silent again.

"Throw yourself in next time!" suggested Gandalf.

"Shh!" said Jane, hugging her knees. He turned to look at her. "They come," she said.

"I can't hear anything, lassie, I think we're safe," said Gimli, his beard wet with tears. Jane pulled herself up, feeling heavier than ever, with anticipation and dread, and adjusted her quiver.

"Jane-"started Boromir.

Then the drums began.

Boromir and Legolas ran to the door. An arrow twanged into the wood an inch away from Boromir and Jane's heart thumped. Boromir quickly assessed the situation.

"They have a cave troll," he sighed. The two men and Elf barricaded the door and Gimli jumped on top of the tomb, snarling in dwarvish, while Gandalf gave the hobbit's advice.

Boromir jogged back over to Jane. "Stay at the back, I'll protect you," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. He turned back and stood next to Aragorn and drew his sword and shield out.

Jane clambered over some rocks towards the hobbits and got her bow ready. She had never been in a battle before and she felt like her legs were full of lead.

Legolas was shooting arrows through the gaps on the doors, which something large was banging against.

It would open in a second, she thought, dully.

And then it did and all hell broke loose.

She shot an arrow through a goblin's throat and scrambled up, to higher ground where she would get better aim. The hobbits scattered and she shot a goblin raising its sword at Pippin, not noticing one was creeping up behind her. Boromir shouted at her and she turned.

Up close, Jane had never seen anything so ugly; it was the most terrifying thing she had ever seen. The goblin snarled at her, its green and black teeth glistening. She reached for an arrow and it charged towards her. She didn't have enough time, she realised, pulling a knife from her belt and throwing it at its face with force she didn't know she had. She climbed further up the wall and took an arrow from her quiver, shooting a goblin near Frodo.

"Frodo!" she shouted to the lost hobbit. "Up here!" She reached down as the hobbit ran over to her and pulled him up onto the landing with her. She drew back the bow string and aimed at a goblin creeping up on Gimli.

She felt she was being useless. Aragorn and Boromir were cutting through goblins as if they were cobwebs and Gimli was launching himself on goblins in a crazed revenge fever. The troll was slamming its club about while Legolas skipped round it.

She was running out of arrows, but luckily none of the goblins had managed to climb up to where she and Frodo were, so they were relatively safe.

"Hide," she hissed at Frodo, as the cave troll turned their way and trudged over to them. It was massive, she thought, but it looked stupid, with its squashed face and dumb expression. They hid behind a column, playing a dangerous game of hide and seek. Frodo peeked back, the cave troll had gone. He relaxed against the wall, but Jane felt the hair on her neck prickle and turned around; it was looking straight at them. It raised the club and Frodo and Jane threw themselves off the wall.

"ARAGORN!" shouted Frodo, as the cave troll stepped towards them, glee in its yellow eyes.

Jane landed badly on the ground, hitting her head and Frodo's fall was broken by a skeleton. She blinked back blood, watching helplessly as the cave troll picked up a spear and threw it at Frodo.

"NO!" screamed Gandalf and Aragorn.

Jane's hand grasped a rusty goblin knife and threw it at the troll. She had been aiming for its throat, but it hit the left eye and it screamed and stumbled backwards, and Legolas climbed up its back and aimed an arrow at its head and he killed it.

Aragorn and Gandalf were next to Frodo, muttering about miracles as Jane picked herself up. She knew Frodo was fine, so didn't bother fussing over him. She touched her forehead, which felt very sore and sticky and wiped it with her sleeve. She looked at her bow, her beautiful bow that Legolas himself had made for her and it had a crack in it.

It wouldn't last much longer, she thought, sadly, and it was her only weapon.

Boromir killed the last of the goblins and rushed over to her.

"Honestly, woman," he said, roughly, looking at her head wound. "You just can't stay out of trouble, can you?"

Jane looked up at him. She had never been put off by his rough and tough persona; always cutting through it by not taking him too seriously. This was not the time to be thinking about Boromir, even if he fancies the pants off me, she thought. Why are we staring into each other's eyes? His eyes are green. I never paid much attention to him before…

The drums started beating again and broke her out of her reverie.

"To the bridge of Khazad-dum!" shouted Gandalf and swept out of the chamber.

He's not seen a woman apart from me in months, thought Jane, numbly. That's what it is. Really, I should be insulted it took this long and not take it too personally. Just a silly crush.

Boromir grabbed Jane's arm and dragged her along out the door and into the great chamber.

They hurried towards a distant door with Gandalf in the lead...as goblins started scuttling down the pillars behind them, like cockroaches, on all fours. There were thousands of them, Jane thought, shuddering at the goblin army that was rushing toward them, circling them. Boromir thrust her behind him, a move which touched her heart. She delicately raised her bow and notched an arrow, remembering what was coming. A deafening roar filled the air, weird and thin and evil. A fiery light danced down the hallway... the pillars casting eerie shadows and the goblins froze. Jane had never been so scared in all her life, she could feel evil approaching. The goblins scuttled back up the columns and along the roof and through cracks into the darkness.

The Fellowship was alone again, but they were rooted to the spot, scared.

"Move!" hissed Jane, anxious to be out of the chamber. "We move now yes?" she looked up at Boromir, his face fixed on the dancing light ahead of them. "Please, Boromir?" she asked. He turned and looked down at her.

"What new devilry is this?" he asked Gandalf.

"I want go!" wailed Jane, annoyed with them, pulling at Boromir's sleeve.

Gandalf answered Boromir's question. "It's a balrog," he began.

"Yes, yes," said Jane, quickly. "Run, run, run," she said and pulled Boromir along behind her and the hobbits followed. Gandalf looked at the balrog for a second, contemplating it, as if he knew what it was going to come to.

Boromir and Jane ran across the chamber, Boromir yelling to the hobbits to get them to go fasters and they shot through a door and down some steps. There was a giant staircase, twisting round and leading down into the mine and to a long narrow walkway; the bridge. The staircase, which had no banisters, Jane noted, sadly, and was carved out of stone hundreds of feet high, had gaps in it, where, somehow, the stone had broken away. Jane pulled Boromir back before he toppled over the edge and then he reached down and picked up Pippin and Merry and jumped over the gap. It was only a few feet, so Jane jumped over, too, quickly followed by Legolas, who sailed over it with unparalled grace. Sam hopped over, using his frying pan to swing over.

Aragorn made to throw Gimli, but Gimli's pride got in the way and his short stumpy legs pushed off the steps and over the gap. Jane's heart was in her throat as he fell backwards but Legolas grabbed his beard. Gandalf sprang over, like a ballerina, surprising everyone.

And the balrog started throwing itself against the wall and cracks appeared everywhere.

"Come on," cried Legolas, holding out his hand. The stone beneath Aragorn and Frodo started cracking, so Aragorn picked the hobbit up and threw himself at Legolas, who grabbed him and steadied him.

Jane was already shepherding the other hobbits down the staircase, assuring them that Frodo was fine. She was starting to panic; the balrog really scared her and she had noticed that the goblins had not gone away entirely and had picked up their bows and arrows to attack the Fellowship. It was all very well running as fast as they could down the stairs; but they couldn't dodge the arrows shooting past them at lightning speed, she thought.

And she didn't have the co-ordination, unlike Legolas, to shoot them, run, and make sure she didn't fall off the staircase at the same time.

An arrow launched itself into her thigh and she stumbled and fell down the stairs, landing on top of the evil arrow and snapping it, her arms in front of her stopping her from toppling off into the bottomless cavern. Her knees and palms groaned and hissed at her; she had cut them.

Aragorn pulled her up and she started running down the stairs again, but now with a limp.

Agonizing pain shot up the sides of her leg; it shocked her how much it hurt. But they were almost there. And it's only a flesh wound, she thought, having no idea what a flesh wound was. She struggled on, coming to the end of the stairs, swearing like a sailor in English, struggling to breathe.

She saw the bridge and gasped. The bridge that the hobbits were running across was about half a foot wide and the drop went on forever. She stopped, her leg throbbing and her head thumping.

"Oh no," she said, almost to herself. There was no way she could walk across it; she was far too dizzy.

Someone picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, running across the bridge himself as she looked down into the deep depths, possibly to the centre of the earth. She bobbed along on his back, arrows shooting past her and her eyes flicked around, noticing the hordes of goblins surrounding them, the giant black fiery balrog chasing the grey Gandalf and finally, the giant shiny shield on the person's back and the familiar fur cloak.

"Oh, it's Boromir," she said, deliriously. "Boromir, Boromir, Boromir," she whispered.

They had reached the other side of the bridge and so he put her down, with a worried glance. Her bow, which was dangling from her hand, forgotten, caught her eye. She raised it, pulled out an arrow from her quiver (idly wondering how they had managed to stay put while she was draped across Boromir's back like a rag doll). She shot an arrow across and took out a goblin archer.Ha-ha, she thought, dryly, hoping it was the one that shot her.

Gandalf was half way over the bridge when he turned and faced his enemy. Legolas was pinging arrows like it was nobody's business, she noticed, angry at herself for feeling so heavy and slow as she fingered her second arrow.

She didn't want to think about how Gandalf was about to fall.

She shot another goblin. It's not even about skill, she thought, there's so many of them now it would take skill to miss.

The balrog stepped onto the bridge, cautiously, testing its evil whip. Gandalf raised his staff, gathering his strength. "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" he shouted and with great effort, slammed it down onto the stone and it cracked. It was so simple, so brilliant, the bridge started to crumble and the balrog stumbled, falling into the darkness. Gandalf turned, relieved.

Jane felt her heart sink.

The tip of the whip laced itself around his ankle and pulled the old man off the edge of the broken bridge. Gandalf's face fell, looking heavy, old, defeated as he dropped his staff and clung onto the precipice.

"Fly, you fools!" he cried and let go.

And it felt like a dream. Jane remembered Frodo running out, the little man looking like a child, his big eyes wide and disbelieving and Boromir grabbed him round the chest and pulled him up the stairs. She looked around and it was only her and Aragorn who remained, staring listlessly at the place where Gandalf should have been.

"Jane!" shouted Boromir, holding out his hand as he wrestled Frodo up the stairs. She took it, and he led her up into the light, with Aragorn following behind. The steps went steeply up, on and on, and Jane's leg started to scream again, as the muscles stretched and contracted. She didn't say anything, just looked at Frodo's curly hair as Boromir carried him up the stairs. He wasn't moving now, just staying deathly still, probably feeling as if all hope had gone now. She knew differently, but she couldn't feel it at this point.

"Jane, you are bleeding," said Aragorn. She looked behind her, at the ranger. Light was filtering down the tunnel and she could see his face clearly, as if for the first time. His bright blue eyes, his noble features, his determined face, his wrinkles, all covered in quite a few layers of sweat and dirt, looking concerned. She looked down the tunnel and saw that she had left a small trail of blood that was running down her left thigh.

She could feel it oozing out of her leg. Boromir squeezed her hand and she realised that they were still holding hands. Actually, she realised, he was pulling her up the stairs.

"There isn't enough room for me to carry you," said Aragorn, worried. He was right, the tunnel was very narrow and very low, and both Boromir and Aragorn were stooping to fit into it.

"I'm fine," she lied.

The light was getting stronger now. They were nearly out.

How long was it,Jane wondered, until they got to that wood where the Elven Witchy Lady lived? I bet they have beds in their tree houses. I'd like to go to bed. Maybe Boromir could come…shut up brain! Shut up, shut up! What was the place called? Lothian? Lothiriel? No, she said to herself, feeling drowsy, that's not it.

Whatever you do, Jane Thomas, don't faint, she told herself.

She suddenly realised that the goblin arrow may have hit an artery. What if she bled to death before they were anywhere near the magical wood? Would fan fiction really let her die? She felt misery wrap itself around her like a shroud.

And the last few steps into the light were taken and it almost blinded her it was so beautiful and strong.

She collapsed on the ground and lay there. Frodo scrambled off to be on his own, shaking with grief and Sam clambered after him, while the other hobbits sat on rocks, oblivious to everything around them. Gimli leaned over his axe and Legolas stared off into the distance.

Boromir was kneeling at her side, gently pulling out the arrow and ripping off some of his shirt and making to wrap it tightly around Jane's thigh to stop the bleeding. Jane could hear crying; she thought it was Pippin. Maybe it was her.

"Legolas!" cried Aragorn, "Get them up!" Legolas looked back at his friend, his eyes glassy.

"Give them a moment…for pity's sake!" shouted Boromir, annoyed at his lack of sympathy.

Aragorn scowled at him. "By nightfall this mountain will be swarming with Orcs. We must reach the woods of Lothlorien-"

"Let me at least tend to Jane quickly," said Boromir, thunderous.

"Of course, Boromir," said Aragorn, softly. "Come, Legolas, Gimli, get them on their feet. Up Sam!" he said.

Boromir pulled out his hip flask from a hidden place on his person and poured it on Jane's leg wound. She gasped and opened her eyes. "I know, dear heart, but it will kill the poison," he said, gruffly. He wound his shirt around her thigh, admonishing himself for finding touching her erotic at a time like this. He pulled it tight and tied it in a knot.

She made to stand up. "No, little one," he said and wrapped his arms under her legs and pulled her up into his arms. She was so pale. He marched down the mountain, to catch up with the others, and jogged next to Aragorn, whose face was set in a strained expression. "Aragorn, are we far from your Elven friends?" he asked.

"We should reach the woods by nightfall," said Aragorn, tensely, feeling another critique from Boromir coming.

"Nightfall?" said Boromir, looking into the distance and seeing a watery marsh and then a wood. "I am worried about Jane," he said, helplessly.

"I know," said Aragorn, softening.

"I'm…fine," said Jane, annoyed they were talking like she wasn't there.

"I didn't defend her properly," said Boromir, vulnerably. "This is my fault."

"What?" asked Jane, confused. "Boromir, why you use words I not know?"

"No," said Aragorn, vehemently, "This is Sauron's fault. She is strong, we will reach the Elves soon and they will cure her better than any human healer," he said, comfortingly. "We can take turns carrying her," he offered. Boromir didn't like the idea of relinquishing Jane, but he knew he needed to keep his strength up so he didn't lag behind; they would get Jane to help sooner if he didn't carry her all the way.

"I can carry her, too," said Legolas, popping up from nowhere, as usual. Boromir nodded tensely at him, glad to get help. They were all very fond of Jane.

"Is Jane injured?" asked Sam, jogging up to the tall ones.

"She hit her head," said Frodo, "When the cave troll attacked us."

"She has an arrow wound in her thigh," said Boromir, tensely. "I think the arrow was dipped in poison."

"Poison?" asked Aragorn, shocked he hadn't noticed.

"Yes, the wound was a strange colour," clarified Boromir. "I cleaned it with alcohol," he said, almost defensively.

"You did well," said Aragorn, "I did not realise it was poisoned," he said, almost to himself. "I do not have any athelas on me," he said sadly.

"Jane has stopped talking," said Boromir, worried. He couldn't see her face, the way he was holding her.

"She's lost consciousness," noted Aragorn, troubled. "That should not have happened, this is not good." Boromir felt his heart being squeezed and he sent a quick prayer to the Valar that she would live. "We need to be faster," he said. "Legolas, take her," he said.

Boromir handed the limp girl over to Legolas, who took off at lightning speed.

It was only then that Boromir realised he was soaked in blood.

"If she dies," he remarked to Aragorn in a strained voice, "I will never forgive myself."