A/N: See if you can catch the pairings in this chapter! Before you say "OMG! I SEE ONE!", let me save you a lot of trouble and say this: Sam and Boromir are NOT going to be paired together. Sam would go nuts if she fell in love with someone who was going to die, and I can't let that happen to her. Okay? But there's a couple of sentences that point to another possible pairing that I'm not sure on...Anyway, read and review!
Disclaimer: ... This is annoying ...
Sam was woken abruptly the next morning, and she cracked one eyelid open to determine what unfortunate soul had woken the lioness up from her nap before it the sun had risen. Seeing no one around to pummel - and her arm was singing 'Hallelujah Chorus', so she couldn't have pummeled anyone anyway - she winced and sat up. The place where the arrowhead had buried itself in her shoulder was subsiding to a low burn after the initial flare of her stirring. She cracked her jaw and looked around through sleep-deprived eyes. After her "surgery" where the tall guy with the scruff had dug the arrowhead out of her shoulder - she had screamed obscenities for the heavens to hear for hours - the pain had lessened considerably. So she was left with an arm that had a simmering ache if she didn't move it. If she was unlucky enough to forget it, a bolt of pain would rip up her arm before she knew what was happening. She pushed herself into a sitting position with her good arm and blinked tiredly. The sky was a murky shade of soupy gray, and it looked like it would either pour rain or just drizzle. The fire which the scruffy guy had used to heat up the tip of his dagger (see: mind-blowing, unutterable pain) had burned down to low embers that were flickering and sparking in the dampness of the dewy morning. Looking around her, she realized this was the first time she had been covered so heavily in dew. Thick pearly droplets beaded every surface, and when Sam touched one of the beads and brought it to her mouth she was surprised to taste how sweet and clean it was. She was about to repeat the process when she heard something moving off to her left. Turning her head, she saw a thick tangle of untidy red hair and a lump that had somehow managed to wrap both a pillow and a blanket around herself. Slowly, the curly red hair shifted and the wrestling hold that had been inflicted upon the innocent pillow was loosened. Amy emerged, her green eyes looking very sleepy and dim. When she saw Sam, her eyes brightened considerably. After a huge, jaw-aching yawn, she scooted closer to her old friend. "Hey, Sam," she whispered, not about to wake the still-asleep Lizzie. "How do you feel? How's your arm?"
"I feel like crap," Sam admitted. "And my arm still hurts. But it's better, thanks for asking." Amy rubbed her eyes and looked down at herself ruefully. Sam voiced her opinion before Amy could. "I know, I feel really weird sleeping in my clothes like that. But it's not like we have a choice. What are they going to do with us, anyway?"
"I was actually going to say how weird it was sleeping on the ground, but yeah, that too. Oh, get this: we're in Lord of the Rings. Did you see that movie?" Amy crossed her fingers that Sam would say 'no'. She wasn't all the up-to-date about movies, and obviously Amy was more of a bookworm than a movie-watcher. Slow surprise dawned in Sam's drowsy brown eyes.
"Oh, yeah, I remember seeing the first one," she said after a minute of thought. "I watched it with my older sister. It was pretty good, actually. Nice premise." Then the full meaning of what Amy had said sunk in. "Wait, what? We're in a freakin' movie?" she spluttered. "How is that even possible?" Amy bit her lip and worried it for a minute before releasing it.
"I have no idea. I'm pretty sure we're dead back on Earth, though. Maybe we get sent to an alternate universe when we die." She shrugged at Sam's skeptical look. "Hey, it might happen. Anyway, I met some of the guys last night. They seem okay. There's Gandalf, he's like this old guy with a gray beard. He has these gray robes and a big stick. And then there's Gimli, who seems really nice. He's a dwarf, or maybe he's just short. I haven't asked him yet, and I don't think I'm going to. And then there's Aragorn, whose like the leader-type. The guy who dug the arrow out of your arm," she said kindly, with a look at the bandaged shoulder. "And Legolas is the Elf who shot you," she said after a minute.
"So he's the guy I have to beat up?" Sam growled. Amy stifled a laugh with her hand, her green eyes smiling as she eyed her friend. Giggling, she told Sam about how Lizzie had mauled Legolas last night. Sam looked delighted and wickedly surprised. "Lizzie did that?" she said, sounding very impressed. "I didn't know our little Barbie doll had all that fight in her."
"I'm not just a pretty face," came a very muffled, very sleepy voice from the bedroll to their left. Lizzie's blonde hair was mussed and hanging in her eyes, and she had circles underneath both of her baby blue orbs. She yawned and stretched tiredly, a languid motion that reminded Amy of a lazy cat. She blinked her blue eyes at Amy and Sam then yawned again. "What t- time is it?" she said sleepily, a yawn interrupting her sentence. "It's too e- early."
"I don't know. Probably around six o'clock." Amy said, who usually got up at this time. Her body clock was waking her up, and she got to her feet. She popped the ligaments in her back then flexed her shoulders, wincing at the stiffness. Lizzie looked horrified.
"Six A.M? I've never woken up that early in my life!" she said, forgetting to keep her voice down. Amy made a shushing motion with her hands and peeked over the slight hillock to see if they had awoken any of the other men. To her surprise, she was met with the man who had rescued them earlier, the man with the strawberry blonde hair and the shield. He looked rather surprised that she was awake, but he came over the hillock and knelt next to Sam.
"How do you fare, Lady Samantha?" He asked in a gentle voice. She hissed between her teeth as he began cutting off the bandages with his knife. The knife was at least six inches long, and sharp enough to slice off Sam's arm, but he wielded it gently and with great care. He peeled off the bandage lightly and inspected the wound. "It appears to be free from infection. You were lucky Legolas did not strike you higher; 'tis a rare day when a man survives an arrow to the neck."
"Oh, peachy," Sam grumbled. "That makes me feel a whole lot better." she remained quite still as he began crushing up some wilted green leaves with his knife and then pressing them into her wound. She gritted her teeth as the herbs stung, and then the pain began to fade away. "Who are you, anyway?" she had a vague idea that his name was Bo- something, but she couldn't remember the rest. After all, it had been quite a while since she had watched the movie. A little smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he tore a fresh strip of bandages free from one of his tunics and began tying it around her arm.
"My name is Boromir, son of Denethor. I hail from Gondor. Your friend, Lady Elizabeth, told me you were named Samantha." he said. She nodded, then her lips tightened as he fastened the bandage with a neat knot. "That should hold. Take care not to move it and undo the bandage, t'will reopen the wound."
"Yeah, I'll remember that. And she's not Lady Elizabeth, she's Lizzie. Don't call me Samantha, call me Sam." she almost added please to the end, but she didn't want to seem like she was begging. He lifted one eyebrow and shook his head as he helped her stand.
"Unfortunately, there is another member of our fellowship who also goes by the name Sam. T'will be easier on my mind if I am permitted to call you Lady Samantha. Why do you dislike your name? 'Tis very pretty." he asked. Sam made a face that almost made him laugh.
"It's too girly. I'm not exactly, you know, feminine, so I decided to be as tomboyish as possible." Something shifted in his eyes as she said this, and he nodded once, curtly. She decided he was a sexist, and dislike for him welled up in her chest. Any man who thought women were inept should be given a swift, sharp kick to the tuchas in her book. Boromir asked her if she needed anything else, and when she declined, he went back over the hillock to wake the rest of the group. Amy had been watching the exchange and offered Sam a little smile.
"Don't worry. If we're in Medieval times, most men thought women were totally incapable of doing anything except having babies." Amy was on her hands and knees rolling up her bedroll and then tied it with the pieces of rope that had been used to lash it tightly together. She crawled over to Sam's bedroll and began rolling hers up as well, but Sam made a noise of protest. "It's okay, I want to," Amy answered. "Can you get Lizzie up? She won't get out of bed."
That was the problem with Amy, Sam decided. She was too damn domestic and easy going. She never got upset or riled about anything, except when her friends were fighting. Sam kicked Lizzie with her toe, unwilling to move her arm so she could shake her. "Hey, Barbie-doll, wake up. Time to rise and shine. Don't make me sit on you." Lizzie groaned, rolled over, and threw a hand over her eyes and heaved a huge sigh.
"It's to early to rise to anything," she moaned. "Go back to bed." Sam growled and kicked her again. Lizzie gave a little cry of theatrical anguish and called over to Amy. "Amy, dearest, she's mutilating me again!" Amy didn't look up from the bedroll she was folding up.
"Lizzie, dearest, you need to get up. We'll leave without you, and then think how sorry you'll be. Up, Lizzie. Now." Amy got to her feet and heaved both bedrolls over her back. Lizzie reluctantly got up and scrubbed a hand across her eyes, pushing her silky blonde hair out of the way. Amy raised her eyebrows at her friend, who seemed to be more interested in picking twigs out of her hair then rolling her bedroll up, so Amy sighed and dropped to her knees. She struggled with the bedroll for a minute then tucked it among the other two, getting to her feet again. "Both of you, go over the hill and ask one of the guys where we can wash up."
"Why don't you go?" Sam asked. Amy looked at the shaggy-haired brunette like she was crazy, her dark green eyes wide as dinnerplates.
"Are you serious? Me, going up to complete strangers and asking them where I can pee and wash my hands? No, thanks!" Amy said. Sam considered this. True, this was very unlike Amy. Neither of them noticed Lizzie going over the hill to ask one of the Fellowship where they could wash up. When they finally did notice, they scrambled over the hillock to see where she had went.
Legolas watched, amused, as the blonde who has assaulted him yesterday marched over the hill. She was the prettiest of the three, he decided, but there was an undeniably fake, backstabbing quality to her that made him wary. Her curves were downright distracting, but she was too willowy and slim for his tastes. However, he did notice Boromir glancing at her like she was a plate of beef in front of a starving man. He suppressed a smile as the blonde went directly to Gandalf and cocked her head to the side. She flipped a stand of blonde hair over her shoulder and flashed him a winning smile. "Hey, do you guys know someplace where we can wash up? We feel disgusting from sleeping on the ground all night in our clothes." she said airily. Legolas felt the urge to roar with laughter bubble up in his chest, and he forced it down with a visible effort. These women were certainly soft and spoiled, he thought, to be so uncomfortable after only one clear night! It would be vile to listen to the blonde's complaints after they camped out in the rain.
"There is a stream over yonder," Aragorn spoke up. "It will take care of your needs. Take care your friend does not wet her bandage; it will heal quicker if it is kept dry." Lizzie beamed at him.
"Oh, she's not as dumb as she looks," Lizzie assured him. "But I'll tell her anyway."
"Backstabbing little jerk," came an annoyed voice from over the hill. "Not as dumb as I look? What do I look like, Bozo the Clown?" Sam was pressing her arm to her side tightly and glaring at Lizzie, Amy standing next to her looking very shy. Already two coals of a blush were heating her cheeks, and she wouldn't look at any of the Fellowship members. Legolas once again forced back a smile. She was a pretty little thing, in her own way, with a short stature and a rather plump figure. She tapped Sam on the arm warningly, but Lizzie wasn't finished yet. The blonde raised one eyebrow.
"No, not like a clown, Amy has that corner covered," Lizzie said, eyeing Amy's wild red curls. The girl, instead of defending herself, merely let her shoulder drop and she tugged halfheartedly at the thick mass of red hair. "But you do like white trash," Lizzie said. "Wearing all the black is just asking for someone to leap on you and ask you if you're emo." None of the Fellowship members could fathom her critical statements, but it must have been something bad because Sam turned white with anger and began spluttering mingled curses and insults as Amy led her away. The redhead spared one last glance behind her at Legolas, and for the first time the elven prince noticed the color of her eyes. The exact color, Legolas decided, of new leaves coming out in the spring.
The brook that the three girls crouched by was icily cold and very clear. It burbled cheerfully around mossy boulders, willow branches trailing fingers into the clear depths as though they wanted to immerse themselves in it. Combined with the sandy bottom, the moss carpeting the banks, and the fog that was already rising over the land, Amy thought it looked exactly like a place in a fairy tale. The water that she splashed on herself woke her up far more efficiently than Lizzie's tongue lashing, and she dunked her face again and again into the cold water. She blocked out the insults and barbed words that both Lizzie and Sam were hurling at each other and scolded them after it died down. They had to stick together, she coached them in her best "Mom" voice. "We're in a strange place. The only people we can trust here is the three of us, okay? So don't fight, guys. We need to stick together."
"But she started it -" Sam began, and then shut up at the withering look Amy gave her. Tactfully, both she and Lizzie silently elected not to say another word the rest of the day.