A/N: Thanks for being patient. I know it's been taking me forever, but there were some major plot twists that had to be worked out and Fanfiction.net wouldn't let me upload it! This chapter was ready Monday!! .

Why Us will be ending soon, probably the next three or four chapters (maybe more), depending on how I decide to go with this. As I'm having some trouble with plot bunnies, I haven't really been thinking of any new LOTR fanfics. My muse seems to be on vacation. I'm also having problems working out my romance, because I'm only using the author's world, but all the characters are mine. It's really annoying, because I'm not sure if I'd be making a major faux pas by doing such. Anyway, that's enough rambling for one author's note. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

Enednilwen*

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Disclaimer: I only own Steph, but Boromir and all the other LOTR chars are Tolkien's. Happy day!

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Chapter 16- Mistakes

It was still dark when Boromir and Steph departed with Aragorn and his company. Boromir had debated through much of the night about who he should go with, and though his gut told him Théoden, his allegiance to Aragorn was the deciding factor. Steph seemed better the next morning; she had purposely tripped him when he walked by her. Then she had laughed loudly and pointed. Indeed, Steph was feeling better.

The entire company was silent as the rode to Dimholt, and Boromir noticed that Steph's grip around his waist tightened as they rode under the black trees. Finally, they found an opening at the mountain's base.

Boromir shivered involuntarily at the sight of a single stone in their path. It was like a huge finger of doom, and the nagging feeling that he'd made the wrong choice by following Aragorn was back. Following the others' example, he tried to spur the horse onward. Every horse refused to move, and the riders were forced to dismount and lead them around it. Steph tumbled ungracefully into Boromir's arms when she was helped down, and she shot him at least six death glares in the process.

"This is exactly why I hate horses." She grumbled, once she was safely on the ground. "Not worth a damn thing."

The two walked slowly and quietly toward a huge wall of rock. There, the Dark Door gaped before them. Signs and figures were carved above its wide arch, though they were too dim to see. If he hadn't been so afraid, he might have liked to go and inspect them.

Boromir could feel Steph shaking in fear, and he noticed that her face had gone ghostly pale. She grabbed one of his arms and held it close.

"I don't want to go in there." She whispered.

Boromir felt a surge of courage, though at the same moment, her noticed Steph's eyes widen even more in terror. He tried to give her a warm smile, though she did not return it.

"Stop trying to be brave, please." She said quietly, "It's like you suck out the last of my courage."

Boromir frowned at he. "What do you mean?"

"Never mind." She forced a soft laugh. "It's a stupid thing to say…must be lack of sleep or something…"

Halbarad, one of the Dunedain, spoke. "This is an evil door, and my death lies beyond it. I will dare to pass it nonetheless; but no horse will enter."

"But we must go in, and therefore the horses must go too." said Aragorn. "For if ever we come through this darkness, many leagues lie beyond, and every hour that is lost there will bring the triumph of Sauron nearer. Follow me!"

At once, the company began to follow, though Steph's feet felt like lead. "Boromir," she whispered, "I really don't think we should go in there…"

The man of Gondor nodded, remembering the previous night's conversation. Would the ghosts know?

The men ahead were moving into the cavern, though the two stayed where they were. Boromir was the first to start to move. "Do not be afraid. We must go in."

Steph pulled back, clapping her hand to her mouth. "I understand now, what the Unseen One meant!" she pulled on his arm, making him look at her. "Boromir, I understand it, and if we go in there now, you'll take the last of my courage and resistance. I can't go in there without dying Boromir, and without me, you'll die too!"

Shocked by her words, he seized her by the shoulders and shook her. "How do you know this?" he demanded, "How long have you known?"

Her face was still fearful, and Boromir wasn't sure if it was because she was afraid of the Paths of the Dead or him. He released her and waited for an answer.

"I d-don't know." She stammered, nervously tucking hair behind her ears, "It j-just kind of came to m-me."

Boromir sighed as he heard the last of the company die away. "I will heed your counsel Steph. I only hope that you are right."

She nodded furiously. "I know it. We can't go in there. We'll die. I can just…feel it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Feel it? I am not sure if your 'feelings' are reliable."

Steph glared at him. "They are, you assclown. Don't make me kick you."

"I would never dream of doing such a thing." He said sarcastically, helping Steph to mount the horse. He took one last look at entrance. "You are sure?"

"Positive."

Boromir sighed as they started to ride away. All his careful plans were being scattered, all because of a 'feeling' Steph had about the Paths of the Dead. But, she was his life source, and he felt obligated to believe her. But was obligation a good enough reason?

He didn't want to think about it. Steph soon broke his thoughts. "Borry-mere?"

"What?" he snapped back, irritated by the nickname.

"Where are we going?" asked Steph as she examined the calluses and dirt on her hands.

"Gondor."

Steph raised an eyebrow. "Gondor?" she snorted, wrinkling her nose, "Why there?"

Boromir rolled his eyes at her. "It is where we were to go in the first place." He said in an irritated tone, "Where would you have us go, All Knowing One?"

She bristled at his mocking words. "Oh stuff it, asshole." She snarled back, "I just wasn't thinking."

"Have you ever?"

"Shut up!" she growled, glaring at his back. She crossed her arms over her chest, not wanting to hold onto him anymore.

Boromir looked over his shoulder at her. "You should hold on, Steph. You will surely fall off if you do not."

"Like I care."

"If you fall off the horse, you will most certainly be injured. Then, I will have to stop and tend to your wounds, which will be a great annoyance to both of us."

Steph pantomimed shooting him in the back of the head.

"Maybe I'd fall off and get unconscious. Then I wouldn't have to smell you anymore. You smell like a barn." She grumbled, trying to set his head on fire with her hate energy.

"Be silent, wench, and hold onto me. As I said, I do not want you to fall off."

"Shove it." Said Steph, holding onto the saddle instead, trying not to fall off the horse. She knew that holding onto Boromir was a better idea, but she wasn't going to give him the pleasure of thinking that he had been able to persuade him. A defiant look on her face, she ignored his irritated sighs.

"Steph, I will not ask again. Hold onto me, or I will make you. I do not have time to tend your wounds because you decided to be stubborn." said Boromir, a note of warning in his words.

Steph gave him a defiant glare.

Without warning, he halted the horse. Quickly, he unlaced the thick leather string that laced his tunic. He turned and roughly seized Steph's hands, pulled them around his middle and tied them in front of him. Steph had been pulled forward when he took her hands, and her hair was flopped over her face. She tossed her head to try and get it out of her eyes.

Boromir took it for struggling. "Do not try anything, Steph." He said, his words almost triumphant, "You refused to comply with my wishes, and you have suffered the consequences."

"Shut the hell up, you bastard!" Steph snarled furiously, "My hair is my face and I can't see anything! Could you please move it or something?"

Boromir thought for a moment. He shook his head, spurring the horse onward. "No, I do not think so."

"Why the hell not?" Steph cried, outraged.

"You are better off this way."

Steph moaned in defeat. "You're horrible! I hate you!"