A/N: Sorry it took a while to update, especially when that cliffie was so
evil! I hope you'll like this chapter, my little brother helped out on a
few things. He's pretty good for ideas if I promise to give him chocolate..
Thanks for all the reviews!! We've hit 100!!! YAY!!! You guys rock! ^__^
-~-~-~-~-~-
Disclaimer: I only own Steph and the voice (it needs a name, doesn't it?), not any of the Edoras people or Boromir.
-~-~-~-~-~-
**Chapter 7**
"My God, Boromir, I just noticed something!" Steph whispered, glancing uneasily at the seated guards.
"What is that?"
"There are no men! Only women, children, and old people!"
Boromir raised an eyebrow, looking about him. "How strange.." he murmured, noticing that she was correct. As he opened his mouth to speak again, the seated guards rose and spoke.
"Hail, comers from afar!" they greeted, holding the hilts of their swords out to them in a sign of peace. Two old men opened the doors for the two, and they stepped inside, their eyes adjusting to the dark interior. Light streamed from the eastern windows, casting a glare on the old wooden floors.
Boromir had to smile when he caught a glimpse of Steph. She was taking in the many sights around; her eyes round in curiosity and surprise. The pillars that held up the lofty roof gleamed with gold and half seen colors, and tapestries hung from the walls, depicting ancient legends.
The most dazzling of the tapestries was the one of a blonde man on a white horse, water curling around the horse's hooves. It was set against a brilliant green, making Steph remember the seated guards' shields.
Someone was seated in the throne, and as the pair entered, the person looked up. Their face was covered by shadow.
"Hail, Théoden son of Thengel!" Boromir greeted, putting a hand to his chest and bowing.
"I am not Théoden King." Said the person, rising from the chair, "I am Lady Éowyn, Lord to the Eorlingas in Theoden's absence."
As she spoke, she stepped into the light. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders like a river of gold, her glance cold and stern. The mail she wore shone in the sun, as did the sword that hung at her side.
"Théoden's absence?" Boromir said, giving her a puzzled look, "You mean he is not here? What of a company that was said to have passed through here? A man, a dwarf, an elf, and 2 halflings?"
Éowyn frowned, eyeing both of them distrustfully. "A company has passed through Edoras, yes." She said slowly, "But it did not include 'halflings' nor would I know what they are."
"Holbytlan in your tongue." Boromir said, beginning to despair.
"They are folk of legend, stranger. Still, we saw naught of them."
Noting their uneasy silence, she continued. "Who are you and what business have you in Rohan? How did you come to know of such a Company?"
Boromir sighed, feeling a headache coming on. "I am Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor. I was a member of the company, and I am following them. I thought perhaps they would have lingered here, and I hoped to gain the council of Théoden."
Éowyn narrowed her eyes. "You lie. To our dismay, we were informed that Boromir of Gondor was dead, slain by orcs."
"I am alive!" Boromir insisted, knitting his eyebrows together, "I have returned from death, and I intend to help the Fellowship!" he tugged at the Elvish brooch at his throat. When it came free, he walked forward and put it into her hand.
"Surely you have seen similar. The Lady of the Golden Wood bestowed such gifts to every member of our Company. Such things are not just distributed to strange travelers."
Taking the brooch in her slender hand, she studied it. Wonder came into her eyes as she handed it back to him. "How is it possible?" she asked quietly.
"I am not sure." He answered, shrugging his shoulders, "I am alive nonetheless, and eager to fight."
Eowyn's eyes flicked to Steph, who had been in the background, listening. "Who is your companion.." she hesitated, "Boromir?"
"Ah, of course." He said, pulling Steph forward by her elbow, "This is Lady Stephanie."
Steph smiled a hello, before pulling her elbow away from Boromir. Couldn't he ever get her name right? She stifled a yawn, though not very well.
"You both are tired." Said Éowyn, "Rest a while, and I will tell you what you know."
Thanking her, they followed a young boy to separate rooms, and each took a well-deserved rest.
-~-~-~-~-~-
Steph groaned as she rolled over, the thin scratchy blanket pulled over her head. She had hoped that it had all been a dream, and that she would wake up well fed, clean, and warm in her bed. No such luck.
Scowling, she pushed the blanket off her and climbed out of bed, eager to get off the straw filled mattress she had been sleeping on. She had a horrible feeling that there were bugs in it. The room she had been given was very small, the size of her bathroom back home. A bed was in one corner, a table and chair in another. Nothing adorned the brown, drab walls, not even a window.
Steph noticed that the orc knife had been taken, but she really didn't mind. It was ugly, and she had only carried it because Boromir was being so stubborn. Her purse was on the chair, right where she left it, and she hurried to find her mirror and get a look at herself.
"No bath in days.." she grumbled, glaring at her dirty face and messy hair. Her clothes were wrinkled and travel worn, and the shadows cast by the stumpy candle made her tired face look even more haggard than it already was.
Steph stretched and brushed her hair, pulling a briar or two from the blonde mess. She would have liked to wash her hair and clothes, but she doubted the people around bathed regularly.
Picking up her purse, she went in search of Boromir. He and Éowyn were supposed to talk later, and she'd rather listen to them prattle on about something that sit in the dark room.
As luck would have it, he was coming down the hall as she stepped out of the room. He frowned when he saw her, but said nothing when she greeted him and followed him in search of Éowyn.
Éowyn was talking with an old woman, smiling and using her hands to get her message across. With a cry of crow like laughter, the woman bowed and shuffled out, leaving Éowyn to speak with the two.
"We thank you for your hospitality, but I wish to leave as soon as possible. Do you know where the Fellowship has gone?"
Éowyn nodded. "It has been naught but a day that I stood alone, before the doors of this house, and watched the glitter of their spears as though rode to war at Helm's Deep."
Boromir gasped. "Rode to battle? Is that this where your men have gone?"
"Yes, Théoden called for any man old enough to bear arms to ride to battle. They would have reached it today."
"Who do they battle against?" he asked, leaning forward eagerly.
"An army from Isengard."
Steph helped herself to a piece of cheese a servant had brought to them. "Orc army, big fight." With this said, she clapped a hand over her mouth.
Both turned to stare at her. "What did you say?" Boromir asked, narrowing his eyes.
"I didn't say anything." She insisted quickly, trying to look innocent.
"You knew of this, and you never said anything??" he barked, pulling her closer to him.
"You never asked!" she shouted, wrenching away, "Besides, I didn't read the whole Théoden going away part!"
Boromir glared at her. "Why not?"
"It was boring!"
Boromir began to wonder how he had managed not to kill her.
"I saw the movie," she added quietly, "but I don't remember it. I was drooling over the guys, not listening to the storyline."
"You are completely worthless at times, do you know that?"
Éowyn cleared her throat. "They are at Helm's Deep, and your friends accompanied the Eorlingas."
Boromir smiled at her. "You have been most helpful, Lady Éowyn. I intend to follow them, but I will need a steed and a weapon."
"We can provide both." She assured, before glancing at Steph. "Will she need a weapon also?"
"I was hoping to leave her in your care.." he trailed off.
"What?" exclaimed Steph, leaping to her feet, "You can't leave me here!"
Boromir glared at her. "What would you suggest? That I bring you along so you can further prove how worthless you are?"
Eager to break up the fight, Éowyn cleared her throat. "She may stay here."
Steph glared first at Boromir, who was looking smug, and then at Éowyn, whose face she could not read.
Boromir looked to the sinking sun. "How soon may my necessities be provided? I am eager to leave."
Éowyn rose and beckoned for him to follow, leaving Steph alone. She glared at each of them, wishing she were dead or home or both. Dead at home would be better than dead in Middle Earth. Groaning, she pounded her head against the table.
"I. Hate. This. Place."
-~-~-~-~-~-
A sword at his side and reins in his hands, Boromir waved goodbye and spurred the horse forward. Steph had looking as she could kill him. Her eyebrows were knitted together, her lower lip protruding, and her blue green eyes flashing fire. He wondered who she would be taking her wrath out on first.
The brown stallion was a swift runner, and soon the gold top of Meduseld was nothing but a glimmer in the sunset. He winced slightly as one of the arrow wounds burned sharply.
A few minutes later he gasped for air from the wave of pain that flowed over him. Being the experienced warrior he was, he did not cry out when dealing with pain, but when it happened a third time, he had to stifle a yelp. The pain continued like a tide, enveloping him and then receding into a dull throb.
Soon it was becoming so bad that his vision was blurring. He whimpered as a particularly strong one hit, furious at himself for being so weak. This one receded, though his whole body ached from it. He leaned forward on the horse, afraid he might fall off.
Boromir cried out in surprise and pain as he felt one of the wounds open up. He pulled back sharply on the reins, forcing the horse to stop. Moaning in pain, he half jumped half fell off the horse and pulled up his tunic.
The broken shaft of an arrow was in the wound. He touched it, and cried out from the excruciating pain that followed. Gasping for breath, he got shakily to his feet and walked a few steps, hoping it would lessen the pain.
The pain was back, and the arrow had grown.
"The arrow is coming back!" he shouted, though the only being to hear it was the horse.
Just to test it, he crawled a steps in the direction he had walking. The pain was overwhelming and the arrow completed itself. Getting hit with arrows was bad enough, but having them grow back was worse. It was enough to make him, Boromir of Gondor, want to scream.
He lay on his back, waiting for the pain to stop, and one thought crossed his mind. "Why did I leave Steph behind? She could have done something.." with the last words still echoing in his head, all went to familiar blackness.
"Boromir, you stubborn fool." The voice whispered in his ear.
Boromir sat up with some difficulty. "What do you speak of?"
"You left her."
"Of course I left her," he said defensively, "she would only hold me back."
The voice sighed, irritation obvious in its usually soft voice. "You don't understand. She is the reason you are alive."
Boromir was silent, shock written all over his face. "Steph? Is she also the reason the arrows are returning?"
"No. You are. Without her, you will die. The farther you are from Steph, the closer to death you will come."
"Will I die tonight then? After all I have done?"
"Return to Steph. Do not be a haughty fool, Boromir. Your pride and arrogance will be your downfall.."
"What is the fate of this journey? Will I succeed, or is-"
The last of his words were lost, as if he had gone deaf. He sat up, relived to find he was on his back on the plains.
Carefully, he felt his side. The arrow was gone, though the wound was still tender to the touch. Mounting the horse, he turned and rode as quickly as he could toward the faint glimmer of Meduseld and the salvation that was Steph.
"What horrible fortune fate has dealt me."
Thanks for all the reviews!! We've hit 100!!! YAY!!! You guys rock! ^__^
-~-~-~-~-~-
Disclaimer: I only own Steph and the voice (it needs a name, doesn't it?), not any of the Edoras people or Boromir.
-~-~-~-~-~-
**Chapter 7**
"My God, Boromir, I just noticed something!" Steph whispered, glancing uneasily at the seated guards.
"What is that?"
"There are no men! Only women, children, and old people!"
Boromir raised an eyebrow, looking about him. "How strange.." he murmured, noticing that she was correct. As he opened his mouth to speak again, the seated guards rose and spoke.
"Hail, comers from afar!" they greeted, holding the hilts of their swords out to them in a sign of peace. Two old men opened the doors for the two, and they stepped inside, their eyes adjusting to the dark interior. Light streamed from the eastern windows, casting a glare on the old wooden floors.
Boromir had to smile when he caught a glimpse of Steph. She was taking in the many sights around; her eyes round in curiosity and surprise. The pillars that held up the lofty roof gleamed with gold and half seen colors, and tapestries hung from the walls, depicting ancient legends.
The most dazzling of the tapestries was the one of a blonde man on a white horse, water curling around the horse's hooves. It was set against a brilliant green, making Steph remember the seated guards' shields.
Someone was seated in the throne, and as the pair entered, the person looked up. Their face was covered by shadow.
"Hail, Théoden son of Thengel!" Boromir greeted, putting a hand to his chest and bowing.
"I am not Théoden King." Said the person, rising from the chair, "I am Lady Éowyn, Lord to the Eorlingas in Theoden's absence."
As she spoke, she stepped into the light. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders like a river of gold, her glance cold and stern. The mail she wore shone in the sun, as did the sword that hung at her side.
"Théoden's absence?" Boromir said, giving her a puzzled look, "You mean he is not here? What of a company that was said to have passed through here? A man, a dwarf, an elf, and 2 halflings?"
Éowyn frowned, eyeing both of them distrustfully. "A company has passed through Edoras, yes." She said slowly, "But it did not include 'halflings' nor would I know what they are."
"Holbytlan in your tongue." Boromir said, beginning to despair.
"They are folk of legend, stranger. Still, we saw naught of them."
Noting their uneasy silence, she continued. "Who are you and what business have you in Rohan? How did you come to know of such a Company?"
Boromir sighed, feeling a headache coming on. "I am Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor. I was a member of the company, and I am following them. I thought perhaps they would have lingered here, and I hoped to gain the council of Théoden."
Éowyn narrowed her eyes. "You lie. To our dismay, we were informed that Boromir of Gondor was dead, slain by orcs."
"I am alive!" Boromir insisted, knitting his eyebrows together, "I have returned from death, and I intend to help the Fellowship!" he tugged at the Elvish brooch at his throat. When it came free, he walked forward and put it into her hand.
"Surely you have seen similar. The Lady of the Golden Wood bestowed such gifts to every member of our Company. Such things are not just distributed to strange travelers."
Taking the brooch in her slender hand, she studied it. Wonder came into her eyes as she handed it back to him. "How is it possible?" she asked quietly.
"I am not sure." He answered, shrugging his shoulders, "I am alive nonetheless, and eager to fight."
Eowyn's eyes flicked to Steph, who had been in the background, listening. "Who is your companion.." she hesitated, "Boromir?"
"Ah, of course." He said, pulling Steph forward by her elbow, "This is Lady Stephanie."
Steph smiled a hello, before pulling her elbow away from Boromir. Couldn't he ever get her name right? She stifled a yawn, though not very well.
"You both are tired." Said Éowyn, "Rest a while, and I will tell you what you know."
Thanking her, they followed a young boy to separate rooms, and each took a well-deserved rest.
-~-~-~-~-~-
Steph groaned as she rolled over, the thin scratchy blanket pulled over her head. She had hoped that it had all been a dream, and that she would wake up well fed, clean, and warm in her bed. No such luck.
Scowling, she pushed the blanket off her and climbed out of bed, eager to get off the straw filled mattress she had been sleeping on. She had a horrible feeling that there were bugs in it. The room she had been given was very small, the size of her bathroom back home. A bed was in one corner, a table and chair in another. Nothing adorned the brown, drab walls, not even a window.
Steph noticed that the orc knife had been taken, but she really didn't mind. It was ugly, and she had only carried it because Boromir was being so stubborn. Her purse was on the chair, right where she left it, and she hurried to find her mirror and get a look at herself.
"No bath in days.." she grumbled, glaring at her dirty face and messy hair. Her clothes were wrinkled and travel worn, and the shadows cast by the stumpy candle made her tired face look even more haggard than it already was.
Steph stretched and brushed her hair, pulling a briar or two from the blonde mess. She would have liked to wash her hair and clothes, but she doubted the people around bathed regularly.
Picking up her purse, she went in search of Boromir. He and Éowyn were supposed to talk later, and she'd rather listen to them prattle on about something that sit in the dark room.
As luck would have it, he was coming down the hall as she stepped out of the room. He frowned when he saw her, but said nothing when she greeted him and followed him in search of Éowyn.
Éowyn was talking with an old woman, smiling and using her hands to get her message across. With a cry of crow like laughter, the woman bowed and shuffled out, leaving Éowyn to speak with the two.
"We thank you for your hospitality, but I wish to leave as soon as possible. Do you know where the Fellowship has gone?"
Éowyn nodded. "It has been naught but a day that I stood alone, before the doors of this house, and watched the glitter of their spears as though rode to war at Helm's Deep."
Boromir gasped. "Rode to battle? Is that this where your men have gone?"
"Yes, Théoden called for any man old enough to bear arms to ride to battle. They would have reached it today."
"Who do they battle against?" he asked, leaning forward eagerly.
"An army from Isengard."
Steph helped herself to a piece of cheese a servant had brought to them. "Orc army, big fight." With this said, she clapped a hand over her mouth.
Both turned to stare at her. "What did you say?" Boromir asked, narrowing his eyes.
"I didn't say anything." She insisted quickly, trying to look innocent.
"You knew of this, and you never said anything??" he barked, pulling her closer to him.
"You never asked!" she shouted, wrenching away, "Besides, I didn't read the whole Théoden going away part!"
Boromir glared at her. "Why not?"
"It was boring!"
Boromir began to wonder how he had managed not to kill her.
"I saw the movie," she added quietly, "but I don't remember it. I was drooling over the guys, not listening to the storyline."
"You are completely worthless at times, do you know that?"
Éowyn cleared her throat. "They are at Helm's Deep, and your friends accompanied the Eorlingas."
Boromir smiled at her. "You have been most helpful, Lady Éowyn. I intend to follow them, but I will need a steed and a weapon."
"We can provide both." She assured, before glancing at Steph. "Will she need a weapon also?"
"I was hoping to leave her in your care.." he trailed off.
"What?" exclaimed Steph, leaping to her feet, "You can't leave me here!"
Boromir glared at her. "What would you suggest? That I bring you along so you can further prove how worthless you are?"
Eager to break up the fight, Éowyn cleared her throat. "She may stay here."
Steph glared first at Boromir, who was looking smug, and then at Éowyn, whose face she could not read.
Boromir looked to the sinking sun. "How soon may my necessities be provided? I am eager to leave."
Éowyn rose and beckoned for him to follow, leaving Steph alone. She glared at each of them, wishing she were dead or home or both. Dead at home would be better than dead in Middle Earth. Groaning, she pounded her head against the table.
"I. Hate. This. Place."
-~-~-~-~-~-
A sword at his side and reins in his hands, Boromir waved goodbye and spurred the horse forward. Steph had looking as she could kill him. Her eyebrows were knitted together, her lower lip protruding, and her blue green eyes flashing fire. He wondered who she would be taking her wrath out on first.
The brown stallion was a swift runner, and soon the gold top of Meduseld was nothing but a glimmer in the sunset. He winced slightly as one of the arrow wounds burned sharply.
A few minutes later he gasped for air from the wave of pain that flowed over him. Being the experienced warrior he was, he did not cry out when dealing with pain, but when it happened a third time, he had to stifle a yelp. The pain continued like a tide, enveloping him and then receding into a dull throb.
Soon it was becoming so bad that his vision was blurring. He whimpered as a particularly strong one hit, furious at himself for being so weak. This one receded, though his whole body ached from it. He leaned forward on the horse, afraid he might fall off.
Boromir cried out in surprise and pain as he felt one of the wounds open up. He pulled back sharply on the reins, forcing the horse to stop. Moaning in pain, he half jumped half fell off the horse and pulled up his tunic.
The broken shaft of an arrow was in the wound. He touched it, and cried out from the excruciating pain that followed. Gasping for breath, he got shakily to his feet and walked a few steps, hoping it would lessen the pain.
The pain was back, and the arrow had grown.
"The arrow is coming back!" he shouted, though the only being to hear it was the horse.
Just to test it, he crawled a steps in the direction he had walking. The pain was overwhelming and the arrow completed itself. Getting hit with arrows was bad enough, but having them grow back was worse. It was enough to make him, Boromir of Gondor, want to scream.
He lay on his back, waiting for the pain to stop, and one thought crossed his mind. "Why did I leave Steph behind? She could have done something.." with the last words still echoing in his head, all went to familiar blackness.
"Boromir, you stubborn fool." The voice whispered in his ear.
Boromir sat up with some difficulty. "What do you speak of?"
"You left her."
"Of course I left her," he said defensively, "she would only hold me back."
The voice sighed, irritation obvious in its usually soft voice. "You don't understand. She is the reason you are alive."
Boromir was silent, shock written all over his face. "Steph? Is she also the reason the arrows are returning?"
"No. You are. Without her, you will die. The farther you are from Steph, the closer to death you will come."
"Will I die tonight then? After all I have done?"
"Return to Steph. Do not be a haughty fool, Boromir. Your pride and arrogance will be your downfall.."
"What is the fate of this journey? Will I succeed, or is-"
The last of his words were lost, as if he had gone deaf. He sat up, relived to find he was on his back on the plains.
Carefully, he felt his side. The arrow was gone, though the wound was still tender to the touch. Mounting the horse, he turned and rode as quickly as he could toward the faint glimmer of Meduseld and the salvation that was Steph.
"What horrible fortune fate has dealt me."