HELLO, LOVELIES! Five flipping years, now, eh? I'm very thankful to everyone who has stayed with this story. Anyone and everyone who has given me constructive criticism, encouragement, said hello, engaged in perverted Tolkien character talk etc - you've no idea how much it meant to me. And now my little project has come to an end. It's taken HALF A BLOODY DECADE but I have finished a story at last. Now maybe I can finish my novel! Well, maybe. I've come to love Jane Thomas, as well as cementing my devotion to sexy man beast Boromir. I would so marry you, Boromir.

Here are my thoughts on fanfiction (feel free to skip) - when it's good it's very, very good and when it's bad it's awful. I'm surprised at the amount of people who are writing - that's always a good thing. Some of the writing is atrocious, some of the spelling and grammar creative, but what annoys me most of all is romance. I fecking love romance. But what I do not love is soppiness charading as romance. I like feminist romance, I love actual people, I love LOVE but not characters mimicking other characters and situations that are cliche and ridiculous. A man proposing to his lover in front of all of their friends may be a Grand Gesture, but I'd rather read about someone falling deeply in love with a person, and them making fun of each other. These are my favourite fanfictions - the ones that feel real. This is what I've tried to achieve. Stupid, endlessly flawed people falling in love and then sudden death. Did I say sudden death? Whoopsie.

Are you ready?

For the last chapter?

Of the weirdest fanfiction you've ever read?

Plain Jane

Chapter 13

In Which All Things End

Unlucky Thirteen

At first, Boromir didn't react. Jane had never kissed a man with a beard before, and it tickled her chin as she pressed her lips to his. She drew her head back and looked at him, his pale green boring into her. He looked apprehensive. She was a little embarrassed he hadn't reacted. She looked at his dark stubble and touched it.

And quite suddenly, he grabbed her by the waist, and fell into her, pushing her onto her back and kissing her ferociously. Jane gasped in surprise; Boromir had always treated her so gently, even when he was angry with her. The mild mannered warrior image didn't fit with the man who was pressed up against her, one hand in her hair and the other on her waist, biting her lip. She wrapped her arms around his back, feeling his muscles, while lust came over her in waves. She moaned, or sighed, and tried to get as close as possible to him. He was very, very good.

She pushed him off her as a thought came to her and sat up.

Boromir, his hair mussed, looked horrified. "I..I am so sorry Jane, I do not know what came over me," he reached out his hand to her and then drew it back.

Jane put her fingers to her lips. She mouthed a word. Boromir shook his head, confused – Jane was the strangest person he had ever met, and he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. She had crept into his tent and kissed him and then he had gone too far and he had ruined everything, guilt and self-loathing were washing over him, but Jane was pointing to her ears and mouthing a word.

He shook his head again. She frowned, looking grumpy, slowly mouthing a word and pointing to her ears and miming a bow and arrow. Was she telling him she was going to shoot him?

"I don't know what you mean!" he whispered, agitated. She rolled her eyes and gesticulated wildly.

She pointed to her ear. Then she mouthed the word again. Then she pointed all around the tent.

"I don't know!" he hissed.

She closed her eyes and took a breath. Trying to calm herself down, she climbed towards him, wondering if she could take the liberty of touching him. She sat on his knee, while he gave her a look that said he was quite pleased with this new development and also a little worried. She whispered in his ear.

"Legolas?" he whispered horrified. "You…that pointy damn elf-"

Jane gave him her most disgusted look. She whispered in his ear again.

"He can hear – oh. Oh," he whispered. The idea of the blonde elf listening in on him and Jane horrified him – that damn elf didn't sleep and they were in elf country – there could be lots of them listening in – and probably laughing.

Jane nodded and gave him a brief kiss and climbed out the tent. Boromir, feeling a little lost, watched her go, unsure if he had just dreamed what happened, it felt so surreal. She popped her head back in the tent and raised her eyebrows. "Well? Aren't you coming?" she whispered.

Boromir grinned and took her outreached hand.

Wondering where to get some privacy, they walked in silence in the wood for a few minutes, Jane holding Boromir's hand and wondering what she was doing, what she was going to do, where this was going to lead, was she playing with fire, or if she had feelings for him. Holding his hand seemed impossibly weird – it was so rough in hers, she could feel the calluses.

The wood was dark, but light from the moon lit there way, the soft moss softening their footsteps, and Jane wondered if there were elves in the trees, and why the smell of Boromir was affecting her so much. Surprising herself, she pushed Boromir against a tree, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, her hands on his chest. She didn't care about elves watching her, she didn't care about orcs attacking, about the uncertain future, her wound, the travelling they still had to do, all she could think about was Boromir and how she had to get closer to him.

The kiss ended and he pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear, and Jane realized that his hand was shaking. She reached up and took it and kissed it. He had such a strange look on his face, he looked nervous and bewildered and amazed and he was still shaking.

"Boromir…" she whispered, worried, flattered and a little overwhelmed.

"Jane," he replied, stroking her face and looking down at her. "I…I love you."

"Yes," she said. He waited. "I know," she carried on. He kept looking at her. "It's obvious. Also Merry and Pippin told me."

He raised his eyebrows and looked away. "This is not how I expected the conversation to go when I told the woman I loved how I felt about her," he said. almost to herself. "But I suppose…you are very strange."

Jane made a face. He said that to her a lot. "Yes, but you love me and my strange," she said, very matter of fact.

He bent down and kissed her gently. "I do. And…I would like to marry you," he said.

Jane's mouth dropped. "Eh?" she said.

"It's when a man and a woman-"

"Oh, I understands but…what?" she said in a high-pitched squeal. "What?" she repeated.

"Jane…Jane…what's wrong?" he said, holding by the shoulders. She broke free and walked up to the next tree and then stomped back to him.

"What wrong with you?" she demanded.

"There is nothing wrong with me, Jane Thomas," he said through clenched teeth, his feelings severely hurt and his pride wounded. "What is wrong with you? A man asks you to marry him and you react with anger? I have only ever treated you with respect-"

"Oh be quiet. We in war. Bad war," she countered. "Things not sure…"

"I understand you perfectly, my lady," he said, curtly and briskly turned tail and walked off. She followed him, hissing his name, but he soon lost her and she found herself in the middle of a clearing that she had never been in before. What the hell had just happened, she asked herself. It had suddenly gone from so amazing to so bad. She felt exhausted, like she had been walking for hours and she sat down and cried herself to sleep.

"I'm very disappointed in you," said Aragorn. Jane looked at her shoes. "I asked you to let him down gently, and what do you do? You go into his tent at night, lead him into the wood and Haldir finds you there in the morning and Boromir won't speak to anyone."

Jane fidgeted. "Aragorn, not your…thing. Me and Boromir. Not you."

Aragorn sighed. "He's my friend. I'm leading this fellowship now and I have to look out for everyone and he is especially vulnerable – Jane look at me!"

She sighed and looked up at him. Her red rimmed eyes were brimming with unshed tears and there were dark circles underneath her eyes.

"Jane…" he said, as if something had just occurred to him. "You…do you have feelings for him?"

Jane looked down again. "It's complicated."

"It's a yes or no question!"

"I know things!" she said, angrily. "I know…future things. Galadriel…say – she said to say no to him cos I have to let him making mistakes and I don't want to but she said everyone die if I do no not, urgh, I mean, and he my best friend and…he said marry and it scares me cos maybe it bad choosing," she sniffed. "My westron all bad cos upsets. Sorry."

Aragorn stood up and walked over to the ledge of the talan, and looked out the window for a long time, trying to make sense of Jane's blathering. Jane was left with her thoughts until he came back.

He came back and sat down. "Galadriel told me that I shouldn't marry Arwen when we first got engaged,' he said.

"Yes, but she grandmother Arwen," said Jane. That, she thought, was a completely different situation.

"She said that it would change the face of the world if I married her. She said that it would be the worst thing I could do with my life, the hardest and worst choice for Arwen," he said. "And she chose me," he said.

Jane frowned. "Yes, but Aragorn, you saying no to her at Rivendell," she said, confused. What on earth was his point?

"I know – I won't let her die for me…but you are taking the coward's way out, Jane," he said.

"Me?" she said, standing up, outraged. "Me? Number one, you made Arwen sad when leaving Rivendell and you know, you know, you marry her. Stupid. Only make things worse now. She met you and she love you and everything is change now! You only trying to make you feel better about it by saying no, best not marry!"

"How can you say that, Jane?" he said. "I love her and want to protect her from mortality!"

"Too late. Better love her and stay with her. Number two, the future is if Boromir take ring and then die, Frodo go to Mordor and we win. Maybe if Boromir don't take ring, we all die. Small change make big change. I don't know!"

Aragorn sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Presumably…presumably it's already changed. You are here, and Boromir has fallen in love with you. We are all defined by our choices, Jane."

Jane sat down, her heart heavy. "I no want choose between Boromir and the world," she said with a sniff.

"I'm sorry," he said, sitting next to her and wrapping his arm around her. She leant into him and breathed in heavily. "I don't know how this will end, but I have hope that whatever we do, it will be for the good."

Jane sniffed again and looked up, Boromir was standing a few feet away from them, a look of horror and anger on his face. He turned and stormed off.

"Boromir!" she shouted. Aragorn untangled himself and ran after him. This, she thought, was getting worse and worse. He probably thought she was a massive slut, that she was only interested in hooking up with him in the wood and now she had turned her attention to Aragorn.

She wasn't sure if she loved him – he wasn't even real. Just a figment of Tolkien's imagination. Can you love someone who isn't real? She certainly fancied him though – when she saw him sitting in his tent, his shirt strings open, revealing a large amount of chest hair and his mother's necklace that he told her about once, his face so sad and his eyes so green – looking vulnerable and hot – she couldn't help it. He was usually swathed in such an amount of clothes – leather and wool and fur – making him seem huge – she marveled at his strength. Was it cruel? Had she led him on? It was probably normal to ask someone to marry them after embarking on a sexual relationship –even a romantic relationship, in his culture. She had seen him every day since she arrived in Middle Earth. There had barely been a minute of her time not spend with big, hulking Boromir. Sweaty and grumpy but adorably cute with the Hobbits, ruffling their hair and teaching them stuff.

That's your uterus talking, she scolded herself, and you've been in the woods for ages without a boyfriend, lots of men around, Boromir the only single one…

Choices, Aragorn had said.

They were leaving tomorrow for the river, so she would have to decide very soon.

She sat in the boat with Legolas and paddled, her thoughts turbulent. Galadriel hadn't given her a gift. Boromir and Jane were the only members not to receive one. Part of Jane thought that maybe it was because they had desecrated the ancient wood with their antics, or because Jane had refused to do as the witchy elf had said, but she thought it could be because Galadriel knew neither Boromir or Jane were going to be alive much longer.

Fanfiction had said that she wasn't going to die – tax reasons. Fanfiction, though, seemed to have seriously lost the plot. She kept paddling.

She could see him in the boat in front of her, Aragorn has purposefully put him with Merry and Pippin and away from Frodo. She could feel the tension between the Fellowship. Gimli was currently droning on about a failed love courtship he had with "the beardiest young lady" he had ever seen, "I'm talking about lustrous plaits of shining moustache, lassie! Not that she could ever live up to Galadriel, harrumph" and Legolas lamenting that he had never fallen in love.

"I may be inexperienced in the ways of the heart," he told her, his eyes on the water, "But Boromir's devotion to you has touched me. I think he is a better man for it."

She could tell they weren't angry with her, like Aragorn, but that they thought she had made a mistake. It surprised her, as she wasn't sure how Gimli and Legolas thought of Boromir.

Jane wondered if Boromir still loved her. He certainly wasn't going to forgive her for rejecting him so insensitively; he had avoided her completely. When he wanted to, he could move very quietly and Jane hadn't managed to find him, or where he had moved his tent to for the last few days in Lothlorien. When they were all assembled before the White Lady, he had managed to stay as far apart from her as possible and quickly loaded his things into a boat and pushed off.

It was completely depressing and she felt drained.

Two days on the water – thank god they weren't walking and she got her period. She could feel the dull ache, unpleasantly familiar. After months of not having it – through sheer stress, Jane thought it was mightily unfair that her body has chosen this time to have it. Her back ached, she was uncomfortable, she had to make Legolas stop the boat every few hours and she got motion sickness, too.

Aragorn made her switch into his boat. "I know what's wrong with you," he said, his face impassive.

"Really?" she asked, mortified. "Oh Valar," she said. "I am sorry."

He fished into his pocket and gave her a semi-dried plant. "Chew on this, it tastes disgusting but it will help."

It was disgusting. It tasted like liquorice and sweat; it made her want to throw up. "Ha, I told you," said Aragorn with a smirk. She swatted the back of his head.

"Mean," she said. "Punishing me," she muttered.

"Only a little," he said. She raised her eyebrows at him and he smiled again. He looked so much younger when he smiled, she thought. She glanced at the other boats, and saw, much to her surprise, that Boromir was looking in her direction. She blushed – she felt guilty, but she wasn't flirting with dirty old Aragorn! Why do I even feel guilty? She chewed more of the plant, relishing the disgust as it was better than dwelling on her feelings.

The waterfall approached – Jane could hear the roar of the water. She looked across the land below – was that Mordor in the distance? It looked dark and unwelcoming, ominous. She was so afraid of the future. They scrambled out of the boats, Jane's legs uneasy on land and she looked at the horizon.

Gimli was talking, she thought, and zoned back in, looking around at her friends. Boromir was gone. So was Frodo. Only his big shield remained. She felt frozen, her legs like lead and she wanted to throw up. She picked up the shield – it was incredibly heavy and solid. It made her feel safe - it reminded her of him.

"Orcs!" she said, her voice shaking. Everyone looked at her.

"Jane – there are no orcs here, it's impossible," said Aragorn. She looked at Legolas.

"There has been a shadow growing in my mind…" he said, in his vague way. Jane looked between them helplessly.

Then she turned and ran up the hill.

Frodo!" she shouted. She could see the hobbit standing by one of the broken sculptures of the men of old, a little boy lost, in a cloak, standing in a pile of auburn leaves. She raced towards him, Aragorn had caught her up by then and they stopped in front of the hobbit, dismayed by his stricken face.

"Would you take it?" he offered Aragorn. Jane looked around for Boromir, but he was nowhere to be seen. The hillside was covered in trees, and she looked for movement, but saw nothing. Just a stillness that made her edgy.

"No. Where is he?" she said, breathlessly, her hands on her knees.

"He tried to take the ring," said Frodo, his eyes large and blue and threatening. Jane was about to apologise when she realized that his sword was glowing blue and there was a rancid smell in the air, worse than the smell of the goblins. Aragorn looked around the fallen sculpture and drew out his sword.

There were a whole host of orcs, in the sunlight no less, right there in front of them. Aragorn looked at Jane, and she knew what she had to do. She grabbed Frodo's hand and pulled him in the opposite direction, down the hill towards the water, leaving Aragorn with the orcs. They tripped over all the rocks and stones, slid on the leaves, and when they saw a huge group of orcs near them, they hid in the bushes, catching their breath.

"Over here!" hissed someone. Jane turned her head, scared out of her life and shaking. It was Pippin and Merry! They were motioning to her and Frodo to join them, to hide together, but Frodo was shaking his head. Jane knelt in front of him.

"Frodo. Take Sam. Take Sam and trust him. Trust Sam," she said, emphatically. "I know things. Trust Sam," she said again. "I go look after Pip and Merry – Pip is silly, he need me more," she explained.

"Go and save Boromir," said Frodo, his eyes sad. "Tell him you love him and that I forgive him." Jane swept a tear away from her cheek. She hugged him.

"Good luck, little one," she said. "Take Sam with you and good lucks!" she said, kissing him.

"You too," he said limply. She watched as he ran down the hill and hoped that he would take her advice. Poor Frodo she said. She turned round to look at the other hobbits, where on earth was Sam, and saw them shouting and waving, trying to catch the attention of the orcs combing the woods.

It worked and the monsters were chasing after them. She scrambled to her feet and shot a few of the ones straggling at the back.

I'm too far away, she thought. She nocked an arrow and shot the closest one, and then shot the next closest one. There were still at least twenty chasing them and they were about to go out of her sight. She jumped down the rock and followed them, heaving the shield onto her back.

The pain in her belly was killing her and she ran heavily down the hill, sliding on the autumn leaves, listening out for the horn and hoping that Boromir would find them and protect them.

She slipped and the shield fell off her back, falling heavily on the ground. She picked the shield up with her sweaty hands and realized she was not alone. Jane reached down to the knife Boromir had insisted that she keep in her boot, turned and stabbed the orc behind her in the neck. It's hideous face contorted, and she pulled the knife out and stabbed the monster again in the eye – it fell to the ground and she leant over it and pulled out her knife from its eyeball, the squelching sound sickening her.

She gulped, and tried to push down the tears. It was then she heard the horn, low and urgent, it was a punch in the heart. She pulled up the shield and followed it, hoping she wouldn't be too late. Her feet were heavy on the ground, the pain inside her thumping and her body shaking, fear pushed her onwards.

And then she saw him, sweaty and bloody, he had an arrow sticking out of his chest and Pippin and Merry were behind him, their swords slack in their hands, fear in their childlike eyes.

She pulled out her bow and identified her fellow bowman – Boromir was slashing two orcs with his sword, but he was no match for an orc with a bow. She could see the orc, the tall one, with the biggest bow she had ever seen, he was off to the side; an easy target. Jane took aim, and fired, and nocked another arrow, and fired that. Then she aimed at the orcs between her and Boromir. Someone yelled something in Orc-ish and they turned backwards and saw her, and she saw that there were orcs behind her too; she was surrounded.

She heaved the shield onto her left arm and took out her short sword with her right, feeling ungainly, like she was doing it wrong, and ran towards Boromir. The orcs were ignoring her, she realized, as they wanted the Halflings, that must have been what they were yelling in Orc-ish – Boromir was defending Pippin and Merry, which is why they were attacking him. She raised her sword and slashed an orc's neck, then pushed another out the way, until she was in front of Boromir

"Jane," he said desperately. She could tell he didn't want her there. He swung his sword laboriously and cut an orc in front of him, just as another swiped his rusty metal too near Jane; Boromir took him out with a kick and a jab. Jane gave him his shield. "You should run," he said, motioning for her to get behind him. The orc archer lay on the ground, among many other corpses, but there so many orcs running towards them. Boromir held up his horn and blew into it.

She turned behind her, to the hobbits. "Run," she said. "They think you Frodo."

And then, something came whizzing through the air, like a dart. Jane didn't know where it went, but the hobbits suddenly shouted, waving their swords and jumping onto the nearest orc, hacking at him. Boromir neatly chopped another one's head off and turned to her, a look of concern etched across his face. He swiped at an orc behind her and stepped over her, still fighting.

Someone was screaming, but Jane's head was too fuzzy to figure out who it was – a Hobbit? It sounded high pitched – feminine even, so maybe Legolas? She staggered to her knees, unsure of how she ended up on the ground, among the fallen orcs, covered in blood. The big orc with the bow was nocking his arrow again and aiming for them – she did the same, hitting him in the neck. Orcs were running past her, paying her no attention, and she could see Boromir making his way towards her, although everything was getting blurry.

"Everything be fine," she said to him, as he grabbed her shoulders. She counted two arrows in his chest – was that a good thing, she thought feverishly, two wasn't enough to kill Boromir of Gondor, right? He was saying something to her, and her head was resting on the leaves. She lifted her hand up to touch his cheek and left a red streak on his stubble. The stickiness she could feel on her left side, the stabbing sensation she had felt; a slow realization that she was injured crept across her like a shadow.

A drop of water hit her face and she blinked. Was it raining, she asked herself, only to focus on two green eyes hovering above her. Oh no, she thought, languidly.

"Boromir," she said, dreamily, losing feeling everywhere. "I never said no. Maybe I will marry you. Legolas can be bridesmaid."

She could hear sobbing, and she wondered if it were her. "Oh Valar, Jane, why did you have to say that now? I love you very much," said Boromir, although she couldn't see him. She dimly felt something against her neck, like something cold was touching her, and in the back of her mind, a regret that she had never taken Boromir's clothes off and ravaged him.

And then, something very strange happened.

Aragorn burst through the trees and galloped down the hill where he came upon Boromir leaning over a huge bloodstain on the leaves, amidst the ugly fallen orcs.

"Boromir! Where are the Hobbits and Jane?" he asked, panting. Boromir looked up at him and Aragorn saw the arrows sticking out of his chest. "Valar! Let me help you with that," he said, and lay down his sword and started his healing ministrations while Boromir kneeled with a perplexed look on his face.

"The orcs carried off Pippin and Merry," he said flatly, "And Jane…she was injured, badly injured and then…she disappeared."

Aragorn looked up at him, his hands busy but his face blank. "This will hurt," he warned, and swiftly pulled out the first arrow. Boromir gulped and went pale, but made no noise. Aragorn smeared something from inside his medicine pouch onto the wound. "What do you mean, disappeared?" he asked casually, pressing the flesh around the second arrow, before pulling it out again. Boromir blinked at the pain, but focused on Aragorn's eyes.

"She disappeared into thin air," he said. "Like magic."

She was wearing a silky midnight gown, had her hair done up like a pre-Raphaelite and was straddling Boromir, who was severely overdressed in a scarlet tunic and black trousers. They were kissing and laughing, she could feel his laugh rumbling away in his chest, and his green eyes were shining; he looked truly happy for once.

Then the alarm went off. She awoke with a start, sitting upright in bed, her heart going a hundred miles a minute.

It couldn't have been a dream. She was so angry. It couldn't have been a dream. It felt so real, the pain, the blisters, and the heartache. But she was back in her room, the light from the window told her it was early morning, the same posters hung on the walls, the same clothes scattered over every surface.

She put her hand to her side, but there was no blood, it wasn't sticky anymore, it was smooth. She sighed and touched her neck – there was a necklace there. She picked it up and looked at it – Boromir's necklace. It had been his mother's, she remembered. He must have put it on her, she thought. That meant, she thought excitedly, that he was still alive! It must mean Boromir lives, she reasoned, for now, at least. Her heart soared.

It was then she realized that her bed was covered in white dust. She put her fingers to her lips, licked it, and picked up some dust. Just as she thought, it was caster sugar.

"Oh fanfiction," she said darkly, "I'm going to kill you."

Please don't kill me. I'm tempted to do a sequel, which is only proof that I can't finish things.

Well, what do you think?