A/N: Wow! So many reviews! Twenty-five already!! Thanks a lot, I feel like
such a celebrity! When I signed onto AOL and saw all my reviews, I was
thrilled. THANK-YOU SO MUCH! ^_^
To answer a few questions:
(I'm sorry I can't remember the reviewer who asked this, as I write all my chapters on my laptop, and my e-mail account is on our main computer): You asked how old Steph is. The fictional Steph is 17.
Samus: You asked why they were acting this way to each other. First off, let me say that I'm glad to see you again. Your reviews are always very practical, and keep me on my toes. ^.^
Anyway, back to your question. Think of it this way; Steph is dragged into Middle Earth against her will and is again being seen as the weak piece of luggage Boromir treats her like (most of the time anyway). Boromir is trying to complete something that is obviously of great importance, and now he has to care for a 17-year-old.
I'm keeping the friendship thoughts in mind, and they will be coming back. But I also wanted to bring back some of the 'at each other's throats' things. They're fun to write, and besides, I seriously doubt that these two could continue being friends when the thought of "I'm never going to see the other again" isn't in their minds all the time. It goes against the laws of nature!
By the way, thanks for the comment on the doll. ^_^
Ai, I started rambling. On to the chapter!
Disclaimer: Steph is mine and Borry-mere isn't. *wipes brow* Ai, that was hard, wasn't it?
**Chapter 2**
The two held each other's eyes in a steady glare for a while, before looking away.
Steph laid on her back on the sandy ground, glaring at the pale blue sky. "I hate you." She said to whoever had brought her back.
Boromir grimaced. "Why?"
"I wasn't talking to you, assclown." She snapped, still staring at the cheerful sky. She hated that sky. Too cheerful.
Boromir snorted and resumed taking off his tunic to inspect his wounds. He knew he had been wounded many times, and had just noticed that the arrows that protruded from him until he resembled a hedgehog were gone. He assumed the remaining Fellowship that had prepared his funeral boat also removed the arrows.
Carefully, he eased the dirty tunic off his shoulders. The places where the arrows had been were still tender to the touch, as if he had been wounded only a few days before.
There were brown scars in the places where the arrows had been, contrasting with the paleness of his skin. He carefully prodded a scar, only to bite back a cry of pain. "A foolish thing to do." He mumbled to himself, pulling his tunic back on.
Steph was still lying on her back in the sand, her eyes closed. The bag she had attacked him with was on her stomach, rising and falling with every breath. He smiled as he inhaled a breath of clean, fresh air. It had seemed a long time since he had last thought of breathing. He was not sure how long it had been, because before now he had thought it eons since he had been alive.
He leaned against the tree again. How long had he been dead? Maybe a few hours? Days? Weeks? Months? Centuries? He had no idea. There seemed to be no time in that long journey toward the light. Only the deep longing to reach the light, to touch it, embrace it, to *be* the light. He closed his eyes, trying to recall the feeling he had received from being near it.
There was only a wisp of it left, like the wisp of a dream just out of reach. He sighed and opened his eyes, looking at Steph. She was still on her back, breathing. Just beyond her was the boat, which reminded him that the rest of his belongings were in there. They needed to get going, not just sit there thinking about silly things like..breathing!
Boromir pulled himself shakily to his feet, hanging on the tree for support. Everything was spinning and twisting together, and he had to close his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his head pounded and his pulse resounded in his ears, the edges of everything in his sight flickering with every beat of his heart.
'At least I am alive.' He thought, taking a few unsteady steps.
"What's wrong with you Boredom?" Steph quipped, raising an eyebrow at him.
"It seems," he said wearily, "that dying does not heal all wounds."
"You would think not." Steph snorted, standing up and brushing sand off herself.
"I am stronger than when I departed this life, but not much."
Steph glared at the sky again. "This is a total rip!" she yelled at the fluffy white clouds, "You bring him back, then you bring me back, and he's not even better yet?? What kind of shit is this??"
There was no reply, but Steph really didn't expect one. She was the angriest she ever had been before, and if her organs weren't already deep- fried in anger juices, they sure as hell were now.
Boromir found that the Elven boat was quite light, and even being as weak as he was, he could still carry it from the shore. He set it down beside Steph, and took a few deep breaths to steady himself.
"We should look through it. Perhaps they overlooked a wafer of lembas."
Kneeling beside, he carefully sifted through everything. He was pleased to see that his cloak and hood had been buried with him, though the sight of his sword darkened his spirits. All that was left was a broken hilt and shards.
Steph joined him after a while, her arms crossed irritably. She had been trying for the last ten minutes to force herself to be nice to Boromir. The annoying mother voice in her brain kept telling her to remember how sad she was he left, and the times they had been nice to each other. These thoughts were soon silenced when her rumbling stomach reminded her that she was hungry in Middle Earth again.
Boromir hunched over the boat, his head in his hands. Steph noticed he still had the ribbon she had given him. Her face softened slightly, as she wondered what it had seen.
"You know," she said, trying to make small talk, "you left your gauntlet in my room. I found it in the corner."
He didn't look up. "I am glad to know what became of it." His voice was muffled by his hands, which cradled his head. He was trying to decide if he could force himself to kill Steph. It would be horrible, but it would relieve the burden.
Peeking at her through his fingers, he knew he couldn't. He was going to have to keep both of them alive as long as possible. There was a reason he had been sent back, and he was going to fulfill whatever it was.
"It seems that fate is not shining kindly upon us." He said, looking mournfully at the broken sword. He couldn't bring himself to look at Steph. The sight of her made him remember that he had thought of murdering her, which made him feel as though he was worse than an orc.
'I seem to be doing many things wrong in this life and the last.' He thought to himself. What was he becoming?
Steph was annoyed that he had ignored her question. "Do you have a plan yet?" she asked again, this time a little louder.
Boromir looked up at her voice, and shook his head. "I do not know if we are even in the same time as when I left, Steph." He sighed, "It matters not, my sword is broken and useless."
Steph snorted. "Don't you have any problem solving skills?" she asked irritably, running a hand through her wind beaten hair, "I just remembered that Sara's 'Two Towers' book was by me when I fell asleep. I'm guessing that's why I'm here." She made a quick mental note to put all Lord of the Rings books in another room before she went to sleep. "Second, you've got swords." She swept her hand over the orc weapons.
Boromir made a face. "Use orc weapons?" he spat, giving Steph and the weapons a look of distaste, "Never!"
She angrily kicked at the sand. "Dammit Boromir, we'll die if you don't have some kind of weapon! We can't just sit here and wait to die, we've got to at least help ourselves!"
He leapt to his feet. "What do you know of this?" he snarled, "You are nothing but a silly little girl that I am forced to take care of!" he ripped the ribbon off his arm and flung it at her. "A curse upon you!"
"Yeah?" Steph yelled back just as loudly, "Screw you too, asshole!" she ground the ribbon into the dirt. With each twist of her foot she could only think of how much she hated him, Middle Earth, and her whole damn life.
Boromir's face was still red with fury, but he forced himself to act civilized for a moment.
"You know the story. Where do you think we should go?"
Steph turned a bony shoulder to him, but still answered. "The Fellowship is going to Rohan."
Boromir sighed. He had hoped to return to Minas Tirith, but he wanted to follow the Fellowship and help. He had failed the Fellowship once, and he wanted to make up for it.
Steph had hinted before that her world had a superior knowledge of Middle Earth. Boromir suspected that they taught their children early in life about Middle Earth, though it still puzzled him that Steph had been so shocked to find herself in a place she knew about. He had shrugged off the thought long ago, accepting that they might think it to be fantasy.
He was going to trust that her information was accurate and act on her words. "Do you know what happens after they reach Rohan?"
She nodded stiffly. "I know everything up to 'Return of the King'. Our teacher made us read the first two, we were supposed to be reading the third next month."
Boromir raised an eyebrow. "Must you always speak in riddles?"
She glared at him. "Look assclown, do you want to follow the Fellowship or do you want to do your own thing?" she shifted her weight to one hip and put her hand on the other, waiting for his answer. He was getting on her nerves.
"We should follow the Fellowship."
She gave him a 'duh' look. "Well," she said slowly as if she was talking to a first grader, "Then maybe we should follow them! Ever think of that, genius?"
He snorted. "Hold your tongue. I have no patience for your impudence."
Rolling her eyes, she shot him a bird.
He frowned at the unknown gesture before grimacing at the setting sun. "Rohan should be that way." He said, pointing to the west. "We will start in the morning."
Steph gaped at him. "How can you be sure? That might be south for all we know!"
She tuned him out as he went into a long speech about the direction of the river flow and the sun and blah blah blah. He seemed to notice she was ignoring him, because he ended abruptly with a grunt and stalked over to a tree.
"Rest while you can." He said, trying to get comfortable, "It is a long walk to Rohan."
"No shit."
To answer a few questions:
(I'm sorry I can't remember the reviewer who asked this, as I write all my chapters on my laptop, and my e-mail account is on our main computer): You asked how old Steph is. The fictional Steph is 17.
Samus: You asked why they were acting this way to each other. First off, let me say that I'm glad to see you again. Your reviews are always very practical, and keep me on my toes. ^.^
Anyway, back to your question. Think of it this way; Steph is dragged into Middle Earth against her will and is again being seen as the weak piece of luggage Boromir treats her like (most of the time anyway). Boromir is trying to complete something that is obviously of great importance, and now he has to care for a 17-year-old.
I'm keeping the friendship thoughts in mind, and they will be coming back. But I also wanted to bring back some of the 'at each other's throats' things. They're fun to write, and besides, I seriously doubt that these two could continue being friends when the thought of "I'm never going to see the other again" isn't in their minds all the time. It goes against the laws of nature!
By the way, thanks for the comment on the doll. ^_^
Ai, I started rambling. On to the chapter!
Disclaimer: Steph is mine and Borry-mere isn't. *wipes brow* Ai, that was hard, wasn't it?
**Chapter 2**
The two held each other's eyes in a steady glare for a while, before looking away.
Steph laid on her back on the sandy ground, glaring at the pale blue sky. "I hate you." She said to whoever had brought her back.
Boromir grimaced. "Why?"
"I wasn't talking to you, assclown." She snapped, still staring at the cheerful sky. She hated that sky. Too cheerful.
Boromir snorted and resumed taking off his tunic to inspect his wounds. He knew he had been wounded many times, and had just noticed that the arrows that protruded from him until he resembled a hedgehog were gone. He assumed the remaining Fellowship that had prepared his funeral boat also removed the arrows.
Carefully, he eased the dirty tunic off his shoulders. The places where the arrows had been were still tender to the touch, as if he had been wounded only a few days before.
There were brown scars in the places where the arrows had been, contrasting with the paleness of his skin. He carefully prodded a scar, only to bite back a cry of pain. "A foolish thing to do." He mumbled to himself, pulling his tunic back on.
Steph was still lying on her back in the sand, her eyes closed. The bag she had attacked him with was on her stomach, rising and falling with every breath. He smiled as he inhaled a breath of clean, fresh air. It had seemed a long time since he had last thought of breathing. He was not sure how long it had been, because before now he had thought it eons since he had been alive.
He leaned against the tree again. How long had he been dead? Maybe a few hours? Days? Weeks? Months? Centuries? He had no idea. There seemed to be no time in that long journey toward the light. Only the deep longing to reach the light, to touch it, embrace it, to *be* the light. He closed his eyes, trying to recall the feeling he had received from being near it.
There was only a wisp of it left, like the wisp of a dream just out of reach. He sighed and opened his eyes, looking at Steph. She was still on her back, breathing. Just beyond her was the boat, which reminded him that the rest of his belongings were in there. They needed to get going, not just sit there thinking about silly things like..breathing!
Boromir pulled himself shakily to his feet, hanging on the tree for support. Everything was spinning and twisting together, and he had to close his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his head pounded and his pulse resounded in his ears, the edges of everything in his sight flickering with every beat of his heart.
'At least I am alive.' He thought, taking a few unsteady steps.
"What's wrong with you Boredom?" Steph quipped, raising an eyebrow at him.
"It seems," he said wearily, "that dying does not heal all wounds."
"You would think not." Steph snorted, standing up and brushing sand off herself.
"I am stronger than when I departed this life, but not much."
Steph glared at the sky again. "This is a total rip!" she yelled at the fluffy white clouds, "You bring him back, then you bring me back, and he's not even better yet?? What kind of shit is this??"
There was no reply, but Steph really didn't expect one. She was the angriest she ever had been before, and if her organs weren't already deep- fried in anger juices, they sure as hell were now.
Boromir found that the Elven boat was quite light, and even being as weak as he was, he could still carry it from the shore. He set it down beside Steph, and took a few deep breaths to steady himself.
"We should look through it. Perhaps they overlooked a wafer of lembas."
Kneeling beside, he carefully sifted through everything. He was pleased to see that his cloak and hood had been buried with him, though the sight of his sword darkened his spirits. All that was left was a broken hilt and shards.
Steph joined him after a while, her arms crossed irritably. She had been trying for the last ten minutes to force herself to be nice to Boromir. The annoying mother voice in her brain kept telling her to remember how sad she was he left, and the times they had been nice to each other. These thoughts were soon silenced when her rumbling stomach reminded her that she was hungry in Middle Earth again.
Boromir hunched over the boat, his head in his hands. Steph noticed he still had the ribbon she had given him. Her face softened slightly, as she wondered what it had seen.
"You know," she said, trying to make small talk, "you left your gauntlet in my room. I found it in the corner."
He didn't look up. "I am glad to know what became of it." His voice was muffled by his hands, which cradled his head. He was trying to decide if he could force himself to kill Steph. It would be horrible, but it would relieve the burden.
Peeking at her through his fingers, he knew he couldn't. He was going to have to keep both of them alive as long as possible. There was a reason he had been sent back, and he was going to fulfill whatever it was.
"It seems that fate is not shining kindly upon us." He said, looking mournfully at the broken sword. He couldn't bring himself to look at Steph. The sight of her made him remember that he had thought of murdering her, which made him feel as though he was worse than an orc.
'I seem to be doing many things wrong in this life and the last.' He thought to himself. What was he becoming?
Steph was annoyed that he had ignored her question. "Do you have a plan yet?" she asked again, this time a little louder.
Boromir looked up at her voice, and shook his head. "I do not know if we are even in the same time as when I left, Steph." He sighed, "It matters not, my sword is broken and useless."
Steph snorted. "Don't you have any problem solving skills?" she asked irritably, running a hand through her wind beaten hair, "I just remembered that Sara's 'Two Towers' book was by me when I fell asleep. I'm guessing that's why I'm here." She made a quick mental note to put all Lord of the Rings books in another room before she went to sleep. "Second, you've got swords." She swept her hand over the orc weapons.
Boromir made a face. "Use orc weapons?" he spat, giving Steph and the weapons a look of distaste, "Never!"
She angrily kicked at the sand. "Dammit Boromir, we'll die if you don't have some kind of weapon! We can't just sit here and wait to die, we've got to at least help ourselves!"
He leapt to his feet. "What do you know of this?" he snarled, "You are nothing but a silly little girl that I am forced to take care of!" he ripped the ribbon off his arm and flung it at her. "A curse upon you!"
"Yeah?" Steph yelled back just as loudly, "Screw you too, asshole!" she ground the ribbon into the dirt. With each twist of her foot she could only think of how much she hated him, Middle Earth, and her whole damn life.
Boromir's face was still red with fury, but he forced himself to act civilized for a moment.
"You know the story. Where do you think we should go?"
Steph turned a bony shoulder to him, but still answered. "The Fellowship is going to Rohan."
Boromir sighed. He had hoped to return to Minas Tirith, but he wanted to follow the Fellowship and help. He had failed the Fellowship once, and he wanted to make up for it.
Steph had hinted before that her world had a superior knowledge of Middle Earth. Boromir suspected that they taught their children early in life about Middle Earth, though it still puzzled him that Steph had been so shocked to find herself in a place she knew about. He had shrugged off the thought long ago, accepting that they might think it to be fantasy.
He was going to trust that her information was accurate and act on her words. "Do you know what happens after they reach Rohan?"
She nodded stiffly. "I know everything up to 'Return of the King'. Our teacher made us read the first two, we were supposed to be reading the third next month."
Boromir raised an eyebrow. "Must you always speak in riddles?"
She glared at him. "Look assclown, do you want to follow the Fellowship or do you want to do your own thing?" she shifted her weight to one hip and put her hand on the other, waiting for his answer. He was getting on her nerves.
"We should follow the Fellowship."
She gave him a 'duh' look. "Well," she said slowly as if she was talking to a first grader, "Then maybe we should follow them! Ever think of that, genius?"
He snorted. "Hold your tongue. I have no patience for your impudence."
Rolling her eyes, she shot him a bird.
He frowned at the unknown gesture before grimacing at the setting sun. "Rohan should be that way." He said, pointing to the west. "We will start in the morning."
Steph gaped at him. "How can you be sure? That might be south for all we know!"
She tuned him out as he went into a long speech about the direction of the river flow and the sun and blah blah blah. He seemed to notice she was ignoring him, because he ended abruptly with a grunt and stalked over to a tree.
"Rest while you can." He said, trying to get comfortable, "It is a long walk to Rohan."
"No shit."