Chapter 16

Hildwyn bustled Mel out into the hall and crossed to Boromir's door, banging on it with authority.

"Come on, up you get! No time for dawdling now, supper's served!"

Mel had to hide a smile behind her hand. At least she wasn't the only one that got that kind of treatment from Hildwyn. Apparently the serving woman's 'no-nonsense' tone knew no class boundaries.

The door opened and Boromir appeared, then paused, taking in Mel's newly cleaned appearance. Mel returned the favor. His clothes were simple, but clean, an undyed cotton tunic and brown trousers, with his sword still belted around his waist and the Horn of Gondor hung over his shoulder. His face was clean-shaven now and his hair was still slightly damp. He looked… comfortable, relaxed. Better than Mel looked, she was sure.

Boromir lifted his hand, as if to reach out and touch her, and Mel suddenly felt very conscious of the ugly dark scar that cut across her forehead. She dropped her eyes. Boromir hesitated, and then lowered his hand to his side again.

"Yes, yes, she looks a proper woman now, you can gawk at her later if you so choose, my lord," Hildwyn said, flapping her hands at him and heading off down the hall, "But the Lady Eowyn has bid you eat with her. Come, come!"

Mel thought she caught just the hint of a blush on Boromir's face, but his expression never changed and it could have been a flicker of the torchlight that hit him wrong. He turned and followed the serving woman, and Mel once again found herself rushing to keep up. The tapestries on the walls still beckoned her to stay, to learn their intricately woven tales. She didn't know Rohirric lore as well as she would have liked, but even if she had it would have been impossible to discern any kind of a story at the pace they were being led. Mel felt another pang of disappointment.

The main hall held even more people now, the long tables filling quickly as they sat down to a quick meal together. There were bowls of stew from a large pot on the far side of the room and bread was placed at regular intervals along the tables. Women scurried around, refilling wine glasses and making sure the bread was plentiful, but this was clearly a very informal affair. As women finished their meals, they would stand and replace one of the serving women, who would in turn fill her own bowl and sit down to eat. Mel was amazed at how efficient the whole thing was.

At one of the tables closest to the front of the room, Eowyn stood and motioned for them to join her. Boromir didn't even hesitate, his long, confident strides covering the distance quickly. Mel followed along in his wake, her entire body a bundle of nerves. She was actually going to sit and eat stew with the Lady Eowyn of Rohan! It was a little unsettling, knowing what was going on in Helm's Deep even as they spoke. Which meant…

March third. It had to be the night of March the third. Wasn't that the night the battle of the Hornburg took place? Mel would have felt more certain if she had something to reference, but there was nothing, no Appendices, no internet. Only a tiny voice in her head, whispering that she was right. It was March the third. She had her bearings again.

Boromir and Lady Eowyn greeted each other, but Mel barely noticed. Her mind was racing. March third… That meant she had been captured for five days. Five days she had been in the wizard's grip, five days of living in fear and exhaustion. For five heart-breaking days she had thought Boromir was…

"Lady Melody, I am pleased to see that Hildwyn was able to find you something suitable to wear on such short notice."

Mel jerked out of her thoughts and realized that, not only was Lady Eowyn speaking to her, but all three had sat down and wine had been poured. She tried to answer quickly to make up for her absent-mindedness.

"Yes, it was very kind of you to send her, my lady. I know that there is much to be done tonight and for you to have spared her, even for the brief moments she was with me, was very generous of you."

Lady Eowyn waved away her comment.

"Think nothing of it. I will not have a guest in my house poorly looked after."

"All the same, thank you." Mel replied.

She was trying her best to mimic the formal speech she had heard Boromir use. She wasn't sure how well she was doing, but it seemed appropriate and she hoped it was less likely to raise eyebrows.

She picked up her cup and took a sip as she casually glanced around, catching Boromir's eye by accident. He was scrutinizing her as he chewed a hunk of bread. Oh god, she must have really looked out of it for him to be staring like that. She set down her cup and picked up her spoon, trying to keep her hands from shaking.

Eowyn turned her attention back to Boromir.

"Ceorl says that you plan to head east to your city from here, Lord Boromir. How long do you think you will be with us?"

"Only for the night, my lady. We will leave at dawn as you do."

Mel thought she saw a faint glimmer of disappointment pass over Eowyn's face, but it was gone as quickly as it had come, so quickly that it might not have even been there.

"I see. Your people need you with them, I am sure, to prepare them for the dark days ahead. They are fortunate to have such a Captain as you to lead them."

"No more fortunate than the Rohirrim with such a great king of the House of Eorl defending them. However, I was grieved to learn of your cousin. You have Gondor's sympathies for your loss, my lady." Boromir said his eyes soft as he looked at her.

Eowyn lowered her head and swirled her spoon in her bowl, but her eyes were less sad and more determined.

"He died with honor defending that which he loved. We should all be so lucky to meet such a valiant end."

Mel was mesmerized. The way she spoke was like a woman who had already seen and accepted her death. But she seemed so eager to meet it. How could someone yearn for death so much, even a valiant one? What could mean more than life?

Lady Eowyn's eyes suddenly cleared and she looked up, smiling at them both.

"But come, let us not have such dark talk at the table. Perhaps all will seem brighter in the dawn's early light. Eat and then you will have a good night's rest here in our halls before we see you off to the eastern shadows."

Boromir inclined his head to her, "Thank you, my lady. Your generosity is great."

Eowyn's smile took on an almost mischievous edge.

"If I know you, Lord Boromir, you have need of more than food and rest."

Mel glanced at Boromir. He was giving the Lady of Rohan a half smile in return.

"You do know my ways, Lady Eowyn."

Eowyn's smile widened almost to the point of laughing.

"Come now, out with it! What else do you require? Though I could possibly guess at the nature of your request, I would hear it from your own lips."

Mel's eyes kept flitting back and forth between them, watching with a sort of bitter fascination. They seemed so at ease with one another… Mel suddenly realized that was because they were very nearly equals, albeit from two different realms. They understood one another in a way that Mel could barely fathom. They were practically royalty in a world where that actually meant something. They weren't just show pieces. They influenced the movement of kingdoms. Despite the nasty knot in her stomach, Mel couldn't tear her eyes away.

Boromir's gaze dropped to his bread and he tore off another piece as he made his request.

"It seems I might have need of Deor's services once again, my lady, if only for a short while."

Eowyn nodded, still smiling, "Yes, I thought that might be so. You have need of haste and Deor has the strength to carry you many miles at speed. I believe he remained in the stables after the men left Edoras. He is wild, as you know, and better suited as a messenger's horse than a beast of battle."

"And perhaps one of his stable mates might suit Melody for the journey as well."

Boromir smiled at her and Mel forced a smile back, but she couldn't seem to shake that nasty, bitter feeling.

Oh yeah, thanks for remembering me, I thought maybe you were having such a fun time that you forgot I existed…

She immediately felt a little guilty. That was completely uncalled for and she knew it, but she just felt so… so… inadequate. That was the word. She felt completely inadequate in the company of a great woman like Eowyn and the feeling was only heightened by the fact that she and Boromir seemed to be getting along just swimmingly.

Eowyn looked at Mel as if she really had forgotten for a moment that she was even there. That didn't help at all.

"Yes, of course, I believe I know just the steed. How skilled a rider are you, Lady Melody?"

Mel swallowed and forced down a wave of irrational irritation.

"My uncle raised horses. He taught my sisters and I to ride when we were younger. Though before to a couple of weeks ago it had been some years since I had ridden, I believe I am fair at it. Though, of course, I'm sure I have little skill compared to the people of the Riddermark."

She could see out of the corner of her eye that Boromir was surprised. Of course, he had never seen her ride, so he wouldn't have any idea that she had that skill. She felt just a tad smug knowing she had surprised him, and pleasantly from the way he was smiling at her. She dipped her spoon into her stew again. It was really quite tasty, even though it was simple. Mel had eaten a good half of hers already.

Lady Eowyn smiled at her, "I am sure you are more than capable, Lady Melody," She said, "I believe that riding a horse is a skill one does not easily forget."

Like riding a bike, Mel thought, smiling to herself. Eowyn didn't seem to notice. Instead she stood with her empty bowl and cup in hand.

"I will have your horses prepared tomorrow. I trust you remember the way to the stables, Lord Boromir, well enough to find your own way. The dawn will bring little time for fond farewells, I'm afraid."

Boromir waved a hand as if brushing away her apologetic tone, "I remember my way quite well, Lady Eowyn. I know that you have duties to attend to. I thank you for your hospitality and I assure you, the horses will be returned when we reach the first beacon at Halifirien."

Suddenly, Eowyn's face fell into a grim expression.

"I do not doubt that the horses will be returned to us, but long it may be before they to find their way home again. War is upon us all, my lord, and my people live in fear. I only hope that I may help you reach your own people a little sooner and spare them the fear of destruction and desolation that my own kinsmen feel."

There was a moment of silence between them. Then Eowyn bowed her head a little.

"Forgive me, I must see to the preparations. Safe journey to you."

She turned and strode from the hall. Mel managed to tear her eyes from her long enough to catch Boromir staring after the White Lady with a hint of concern mixed with admiration. She turned back to her bowl, even though she had temporarily lost her appetite. It was possible she had misinterpreted his expression, but the crazy part of her brain that seemed to be in charge lately seriously doubted it. And that brought on more unreasonable resentment. She pushed the last bits of meat and vegetables around in her bowl for a minute, trying to get a handle on her whirling emotions.

It was wrong to feel angry at Eowyn. After all, it wasn't her fault she had been born into the world strong, bold and beautiful. But at the same time, Mel wished that she could captivate Boromir's attention as the White Lady seemed to. That would never happen. She would never be Eowyn or any other woman of this world. She would always just be Mel, plain ol' Mel, with short hair and an ugly scar and absolutely no idea what she was doing. She realized with a shock that her love for Boromir was just as hopeless as Eowyn's love for Aragorn. Just as Eowyn could never hold a candle to Arwen Undomiel, Mel would never hold a candle to the Shieldmaiden of Rohan. Or any other lady of noble birth, she imagined.

Mel reached for her wine glass, which had just been refilled, and drained it. Probably not the smartest thing she had ever done, but a couple of glasses of wine never hurt anyone. Besides it made her feel better, or at least she knew it would in a few minutes when the alcohol hit her system. And just the thought of feeling better made her mood improve.

"I didn't know you could ride," Boromir said, suddenly.

Oh sure, NOW you're gonna talk to me like I'm actually sitting at the table with you… Mel thought, her irritation resurfacing.

Boromir was smiling at her, still looking a little surprised at this little tidbit of information. The smirk on his face annoyed her.

"Yeah well, I'm not entirely useless, you know."

She had meant to sound like she was at least half-joking. Instead all of her anger seemed to bubble out of that one phrase. Boromir's smile disappeared, replaced by a furrowed brow.

"Is there anything the matter, Melody?"

She took a deep breath and shoved another spoonful of stew into her mouth, shaking her head as she chewed and swallowed.

"No…" she said finally, "No, sorry. I'm just tired, I guess."

Of course, I'm tired, I've been through hell and now I get to have the fact that I'm practically a lowly peasant rubbed in my face, so pardon me if I'm not in the best god damn mood…

She couldn't seem to stop the swirl of angry thoughts as she finished her stew, wiping out her bowl with a piece of bread. They were frustrated and depressing in turns, one mood leading to the other in a never-ending spiral of bad-temper that she couldn't seem to pull herself out of. She reached for her wine glass again, but Boromir touched the back of her hand.

"We should get some rest. We leave early tomorrow."

His face was lined with concern. Mel felt a surge of fury at him, but she quickly forced it away. There was no reason to be angry with him either. It wasn't his fault he'd been born handsome, kind, and good, and just so happened to be a Gondorian prince who would never, ever be interested in a poor, lonely commoner from some weird other world. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. He was right. She needed some sleep. Maybe that would clear all of this crazy out of her head. And besides those two glasses of wine were finally hitting her. She could feel the tell-tale lightness in her body. Wow, it didn't take much of that Rohirric wine did it?

She nodded and Boromir stood, offering her his hand. She took it and stood up, looking around the Meduseld for the first time since they had come to supper. A lot of the people had cleared out, but there were several women running around, clearing away dishes and wiping tables. An overwhelming feeling of uselessness flooded her again. These people would be running for their lives in the morning and all she had done was add to their work, eating their food and using their dishes and…

Mel stopped and then straightened her shoulders. No. This was something she could do, even if it was only something small. But she had to do something or she felt like she was going to lose her mind. She turned back to the table and started to gather her dishes and Boromir's, stacking them as neatly as she could.

"Melody, it's really not necessary…"

She ignored Boromir's attempts to stop her. Maybe the mundane task would help her feel better, keep her mind off of the fact that she had just realized (far too late) that the man she loved was way out of her league. All of their dishes stacked in her arms, she approached the nearest serving woman.

"Where do these go?" she asked.

The woman stared at her, clearly shocked. At first she tried to take them from her, but Melody held firm.

"No, I'll take care of it, just point me in the right direction."

The woman looked confused. Mel had the sudden realization that the woman might only speak Rohirric, in which case she was screwed. She didn't know any Rohirric. How was she going to convey what she was trying to tell her?

Suddenly, Boromir's voice spoke behind her, spouting a bunch of gibberish. Mel and the woman both looked back at him, Mel's eyes wide with surprise. Boromir spoke Rohirric?

Apparently he did, because the woman smiled at him and flapped her hands, chattering excitedly in the same sort of gibberish that Boromir had just been speaking. Before Mel could really wrap her mind around this, the woman made a grab for the bowls and cups again, but Mel held on tight.

"No! Tell her no, Boromir, tell her I want to help."

"I have already told her as much, Melody, but she is very insistent. You are a guest. She refuses to allow you to help her."

As Boromir spoke, the woman finally got a grip on the dishes and dislodged Mel's hands, still babbling on apparently oblivious to the fact that Mel couldn't understand a word she said. The woman smiled brightly and bobbed a half-curtsy before she hurried off, loading up more bowls and cups as she did. Mel just blinked after her.

"What in the world was she going on about?"

"Mostly about her family serving the House of Eorl for generations, some things about honor-bound duty and tradition, and begging your pardon, but no foreign lady would ever do it properly as it had been done for hundreds of years."

Mel turned to stare up at Boromir, mouth agape. He just smiled at her.

"Or something quite similar to that. She did thank you profusely for you willingness however."

Yeah, for all the damn good it did me, Mel thought. God, she was tired. Even the serving woman's cheerful prattling was a source of annoyance.

Boromir almost seemed to read her mind. He held out his arm to her.

"Perhaps we should get some rest."

Mel nodded and took his arm. It seemed so weird, after so many weeks of traveling with him in the middle of the wild, to be thrown back into proper society where it was deemed appropriate and perhaps even necessary to offer a woman your arm if you intended to walk in the same direction together. It all seemed so pointless. But this meaningless society was most of the basis for her bad mood. The social order Mel found herself flung into dictated that Boromir had a much higher status than she did and so she was inadequate. It was enough to make her homesick. But then again, even if she had met Boromir in some modern setting, wouldn't he have still been out of her league, just by existing as the man she knew? The whole thing made her head spin and she tried not to think about it anymore.

Together they left the Golden Hall and turned down the corridor toward their rooms. Mel was so tired she almost didn't notice the tapestries as they passed by. But one image did catch her eye and she managed to make Boromir pause for just this one. A large man stood in the midst of a snow covered campsite, unarmed and dressed all in white, his golden hair blowing in the midst of a snowstorm. At his feet lay one man dead and a group of men fleeing before him, terror apparent on their faces.

"Helm Hammerhand, besieged at the Hornburg." Boromir said softly.

Mel's heart leapt to her throat. Helm's Deep. She could see the mountainous fortress at Helm's back, weaved in stunning detail. Just as with Helm Hammerhand, Theoden-king now lay besieged at the Hornburg, along with Aragorn and Gimli and Legolas. She shuddered, but quickly tried to shove away the anxious feeling in her chest.

"They'll be fine." She whispered.

Boromir glanced at her, but didn't say anything. Instead he gently led her away from the tapestry and down the hall to their rooms in silence. When they finally reached the doors, Mel slipped her hand out of the crook of his arm and laid it on the doorknob. But Boromir grabbed her elbow.

"Melody."

He whispered her name and she felt a little shiver go down her spine. She tried to chalk it up to the drafty corridor, but she couldn't fool herself. She turned back to him. He looked concerned again, his gray eyes soft and kind.

"I know something was disturbing you at supper this evening. I do not ask that you speak of it if you do not wish to. But know that it pains me to see you troubled,"

His eyes dropped to the floor.

"I… I hope that you know, despite what has happened in the past, you can rely on me to help carry any burden you may bear. In fact, I would accept it gladly if it would ease you. I realize that much of what has happened would not have occurred were it not for…"

His voice broke and he fell silent. Mel gaped at him as a wave of guilt swept over her. This was clearly painful for him and she had never even thought… God, what would he think of her if he knew the real reason for her bad mood was nothing more than petty jealousy and misplaced feelings? She reached out and touched his arm.

"You don't owe me anything, Boromir," She said, "If anything, I owe you. You saved my life. Please don't beat yourself up over choices that weren't yours to make. I made a choice and I suffered the consequences of it. But I've reaped the rewards too."

Boromir finally met her eyes again and Mel smiled at him.

"I don't regret it and neither should you."

For a moment, they were both silent. Mel thought they were done, but Boromir still had a hold of her arm. She was about to ask him if there was something else, when he finally pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. At first she was so shocked that all she could do was lay there. A warm glow filled her insides and her skin was tingling, her heart pounding her in her chest. Slowly, she reached her arms around him and hugged him back, afraid that if she moved too fast she might ruin everything. Finally, she buried her face in his shoulder and sighed. She felt his cheek rest on top of her head.

"Melody, I was so afraid." He whispered, his grip on her tightening slightly.

Mel took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Me too."

Despite the soft contentment Mel felt in her chest, her cynical brain knew that she might never be this close to him again. So she worked hard to commit every sensation she was feeling right now to memory. She tried to memorize his smell, faint since he had just washed a few hours ago, but still distinct, the smell of leather and an earthy greenness that seemed to linger on his skin. She memorized the way his arms held her just tightly enough to make her feel warm and safe, the weight of his cheek pressed against the top of her head, the rapid beating of her heart that she desperately hoped he couldn't hear or feel. And she also listened to the rhythm of his heart, memorizing the pace.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Finally, after an indeterminate amount of time that felt both too long and not long enough, Boromir pulled away from her and Mel felt a little piece of her heart crumble. She felt like she could cry, but she wouldn't, she was too afraid that it would make his face crease with worry again. So she held back her tears and tried to smile at him. His eyes flitted across her face as if he were contemplating something very seriously. She was about to offer him a penny for his thoughts when she realized that would probably make absolutely no sense to him. That made her genuinely smile. Finally, Boromir seemed to put whatever he was thinking aside and smiled back.

"Forgive me, you are tired and we leave early tomorrow. I will leave you to your rest."

He kissed her hand and Mel imagined that his lips lingered just a second too long there, even as the angry, degrading part of her told her she was full of it.

"Sleep well, Melody." He said.

She forced her smile to stay on her face, "You too, Boromir."

Then before her mask could crack, she stepped into her room, shutting the door in Boromir's face. She took a deep breath and quickly crossed the room, throwing herself under the blankets on the bed, trying not to think of anything, just hoping that she would fall asleep. But it didn't happen. And as she lay there in the dark, her mind kept rolling over all the reasons why she would never be good enough for the son of a Steward. Then she quietly cried into her pillow.