A/N
Well I have been doing a LOT of brainstorming (daydreaming) and I now not only understand where I am taking this story but also how it will get there... a good place to be;)
I plan to revise previous chapters and edit them properly, something WELL overdue. I may also flesh them out a little... but more on that when I get around to it. Uni is back, so procrastination in the form of writing and editing will most probably ensue.
My understanding from reviewers is that you love Serafina even though you want to hate her. Which I love! Yes the romance is slow in coming... but hopefully the more real for it.
Please read and review! (Thanks to those who do – you make my days happy)
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: LOTR isn't mine.
...
Chapter Twenty-four
Serafina sat down, less than an arm span between herself and Boromir, directly blocking his line of sight to Frodo. She suppressed a wicked grin as he turned away with a scowl and engaged Aragorn in conversation. She knew she was enjoying this too much for the serious task that it was, but the thief didn't care. She had to hand it to Merry and Pippin, it was an ingenious idea, and it appeared to be working. Boromir had barely had a chance to catch a glimpse of the Ring in a day and a half, Serafina had seen to that. 'Distract him' they'd said, 'he won't be able to think about the Ring if you're around him... he'll be too busy blamin' you for breathin' or somethin''. Serafina smiled at the memory. She had been careful so far; she had not pushed his restraint. The thief found merely walking in his line of sight, or sitting too close to him at meals sufficed. A couple of times she'd ventured into his conversations with others, a word here or there would silence him for a whole minute and allow his focus on the ring to melt away like a snowflake in sunshine.
She was half listening to Aragorn's conversation with Boromir, it didn't interest her but she found her attention drawn by the two men. Eventually it came to a natural close, and Aragorn walked away. The increasingly familiar feelings of guilt and remorse assailed her when the Ranger crossed her mind. Serafina almost rejoiced when Frodo walked in the same direction as Aragorn – Boromir's attention was captivated by the Hobbit. She found herself delighting in being able to push aside such unpleasant feelings by attending to her duty. Boromir was almost at the point of standing up to follow Frodo. Serafina nearly grinned – it was time to distract Boromir more assertively.
"Boromir," she paused as he spun around directly, a part of her thought that might be enough. Serafina continued regardless with mischief in her eyes, "Tell me, when we make it to Gondor, what will you do with me?"
Boromir stared, as did all those in earshot. She felt misgivings rising in a flush up her neck, her pride, however, would not back down. She threw on a haughty smile to throw off her doubts.
"Will you shackle me in irons as soon as we enter the realm? Or do you think-" Serafina broke off. Aragorn had come back into earshot, and her mouth refused to continue the spiteful words directed at Boromir.
"Or do I think what, Thief?" Boromir asked with amusement in his voice. He was smiling, evidently delighted at her lack of follow through. Serafina gritted her teeth, she had never been tongue tied. Stubbornly she fought the embarrassment with anger and opened her mouth to speak. Before any words had left her, Gandalf's voice came drifting across to her with no hint of frustration, totally unconcerned with the situation.
"I think, Serafina, that I would enjoy walking with you for the next part of our journey. As an old man, I believe the arm of a young lady might be just the thing I need." The wizard turned away and began ascending the ever increasing slope. Serafina had long since abandoned looking back down the mountain, not being afraid of heights was one thing. Mountains were different. She glanced at Boromir, who was actually smiling. Evidently he though the wizard had summoned her to convey displeasure in her conduct. Serafina automatically wiped the scowl off her face and smiled sweetly at him. It was Boromir's turn to scowl.
The rest of the party was hurrying to pack away the remains of lunch, chattering quietly among one another, Serafina ignored them as she began after Gandalf.
Aragorn caught up with her quickly, his voice, when he spoke was as low and fierce as ever, "What are you up to, Serafina?"
"I am trying to catch up to the old man."
"Do not play games with me. Why do you pester him so?"
Serafina hated herself as she forced an innocent smile, "Who?"
Angrily, Aragorn grabbed her shoulder, his enraged whisper audible even above the wind, "Boromir is a respected Man of Gondor. Now while I may not condone his treatment of you, I will not sit by and watch you deliberately provoke him!"
Serafina spun to face him and opened her mouth wide to being defending her actions. Before the words came out of her mouth though, she reminded herself why she had not come to Aragorn with the Merry and Pippin's concerns in the first place. How could she defend her actions to the man in front of her after insulting him so abominably less than a day ago? How could she expect him to believe her plight to distract Boromir, when her merely suspecting him of a desire for the Ring would seem so biased, so fabricated. Aragorn was right, Boromir was a respected man, first son to the Steward of Gondor, and she would accuse him of coveting the One Ring when her own personal vendetta against the man was common knowledge? No, she could not defend herself. Not now, and not to him. Aragorn could think what he wanted, since when had the opinions of others mattered to the Thief?
Serafina closed her mouth, and looked away. Unable to meet his eye she forced the words out of her mouth, "If you do not like it, then do not watch. The wizard is waiting for me." Without looking back at him she set off at a quicker pace towards the wizard, leaving hasty imprints in the fresh snow.
Even though ever step brought her further up the mountain, with each step she felt her stomach sink closer to her knees as she realised that something was changing. She had never minded what people thought of her. Why did it matter what a Ranger thought? Desperately she tried to pin point a moment in time when things had changed, if she could figure out the cause, then maybe she could reverse it. Slowly she gained on Gandalf, but he didn't turn and at first he didn't talk. The thief fell easily into step with him, lost in her mind. She could feel the gaze of the rest of the company on her back.
Suddenly she was pulled out of herself by the sound of the wizards voice.
"Do not be so sullen, Serafina" he said gently.
She didn't answer and he continued after a moment.
"I think the question is not what Boromir will do with you, but rather, what you choose to do with yourself."
"I don't know what you're talking about" she answered mechanically.
"Actually I believe you do, it is more a matter of the fact that you are sulking and would rather dwell in self pity that engage in conversation" snapped the wizard sharply.
For the first time Serafina lifted her eyes to regard her walking companion. There was no anger in his face; he looked straight ahead, where he was walking. After a moment he turned his head and smiled at the girl, she offered one of her own in return.
"Good!" he said comically. "Now then, what will you do with yourself?"
"I don't know. Much the same as always, I am itching to be free from this..." she gestured around.
"The Mountain?"
"No not the Mountain, but yes that too. I want to be of this quest. I don't want to depend on you or, or Aragorn or any of the others. I want a reasonably sized town, where I can get what I need."
"Freedom is a many layered concept. But that is what you will do with yourself?" asked Gandalf sceptically, "continue thieving? Serafina that is not much to look forward to."
"Perhaps not to you" she answered stiffly.
"I rather think not to anyone, especially not to you."
"And what, then, do you expect me to do? I play with the hand I have been dealt."
Gandalf looked at her with a sharp, measuring eye and asked, "What if you were given a new set of cards?"
"You speak in riddles, old man" she said with finality. Fortunately he seemed to take the hint and let the subject pass. They walked in silence together for a time, both evidently wrapped in their own thoughts. Serafina was again contemplating her misfortune. She was happily reconciled with the idea that she was being indirectly punished for the choices she'd made in her life, what she could not come to terms with was the distinct lack of choice in her current circumstance. There was no escape. The time she'd spent with the company already felt like months of disagreeable journeying, and on top of that she could feel these people impressing themself on her character. She had always been very careful in the past to limit her interactions with others, and now all choice had been taken from her.
"What do you know of you parents?" asked the wizard presently. Serafina pulled herself out of her wonderings and engaged once more in his trivial conversation.
"I never knew them" was all the answer she gave.
"You never knew them? You do not consider yourself an orphan then?" he asked probingly. Serafina looked up at him suspiciously.
"Do you know something I do not?" she challenged. She'd watched him over the past week, he had been the least surprised to find her travelling with them and was completely non-pulsed by her presence. She glared up at him to underline the challenge in her words but the effect was slightly damaged as she squinted in the brightness of reflected sunshine on snow.
"There are many things I know, Serafina, long life and excellent memory have seen to the assurance of that fact. However, on the subject of your parents you may believe me as ignorant as yourself – obviously depending on the extent of your own knowledge on the matter".
She smirked at his response but her suspicions were allayed. Her own knowledge, of course was minimal and the subject so unimportant that she decided to indulge the wizard. Gandalf saw her smile and continued.
"You had a parental figure though, did you not?" he asked kindly.
Her smirk grew – Garth, a father figure? The irony struck her deeply. "Of sorts..." she conceded vaguely.
"And how did you come into his care?"
"His care?" Serafina repeated with amusement, and then answered the wizard, "I only asked him once. According to Garth I was abandoned in the river Anduin and he found me in the bulrushes less than a league down river from Minas Tirith," Serafina said matter-of-factly, then added with a sneer "but it was not a topic we discussed often." She looked up at the wizard again to see his reaction but before any response had formed on his face his attention was caught by something behind them. He had stopped, his body stiff. Suddenly he spun around with the agility of a much younger man. Serafina too, turned to survey the scene below them. The company were all facing the one member. Boromir stood looking at the snow, captivated. Serafina looked to the rest of the Fellowship to try to discern what was going on, but her eyes could not distinguish expressions on faces at such a distance.
Boromir was bent down. When he straightened something glinted from his hands. In one moment her worst suspicions were confirmed. She rounded on Gandalf, "Will you do nothing?" she asked, her voice thick with a mix of alarm and accusation. Gandalf did not take his eyes off the scene below him but when he answered it was with collected casualness.
"What would you suggest? Here we stand too far away from him for you to imply your... unique strategy."
Serafina was momentarily dumbstruck; did the wizard know what she had suspected him of? And if he had, why had he not spoken to her of it? Before she could pose any of her questions though Gandalf spoke again, "You are not nearly so difficult to decipher as you would like to think. Aha!" he said with a smile, "it is returned to Frodo – very little harm done".
She glanced back quickly towards the scene below. Boromir was indeed walking again. She cast her eye over the others; the only two that had not resumed the journey were Frodo and Aragorn. The hobbit seemed to be adjusting something around his neck. She saw the Ranger remove his hand from his hip. With a jolt she realised that his hand had been on the hilt of his sword. A sombre mood fell over her as she too turned to continue up the mountain. Abruptly the wind picked up, it seemed the weather too was against them. Despite her shock at the scene and her general deep dislike of him she felt a sudden pang of gratefulness to Boromir for suggesting they each carry some firewood, it appeared they would need it. She brought her cloak further about her with a shiver and she wished herself far away from the quest.
...
Serafina could not imagine worse weather. There was nothing to see, nothing but snow and the back of a figure in front of her, she could not tell who it was. The coldness was numbing, an hour ago she had been wet through and deeply miserable, now Serafina felt nothing but the stinging numbness as it crept though her body. Trust alone told her that she still had feet attached to her legs; she had no sensation below her mid-calf and no visibility to tell either way. Her gloved hands were thrust into her armpits to try to preserve some body heat but the attempt felt futile.
Half an hour ago Aragorn had given up his cloak to warm her, her feeble protest had never made it past her chattering teeth, but she thought she'd seen understanding in his eyes. He was behind her, she knew, carrying Frodo and Sam. She assumed Boromir carried Merry and Pippin, but the dark smudge in front of her could have been anyone of the fellowship. Concern flitted through her mind for the Halflings, but it left her mind as quickly as it had entered, as if the storm was blowing her thoughts away as soon as they came to her.
It wasn't long before she began to stumble. She thought, though, that she had done well to stay upright as long as she had with frozen feet. After a particularly bad collision with the cliff face on her left she heard a different kind of noise to the screaming of the wind. A moment later she placed the sound – a voice was yelling. She heard her name, a moment later she heard the names of the hobbits, another voice answered, and then another. Serafina wanted to scream at them to slow down and repeat themselves but the words never became more than an abstract wish in her mind. Something nudged her back, for a moment she though the storm had solidified and was pushing her deeper into itself. But sense came to her, in a moment of relief, and she recognized the touch of another person, urging her forward. Desperately she tried to concentrate on the process of walking. It was beginning to seem deeply complicated. Suddenly they had stopped again. Men were yelling and the storm was still screaming. She wanted to join in but her body could not obey. Then, all at once, there was a muffling crash. Silence fell heavily onto her, heavy, cold and black. Serafina welcomed it. Reality faded.
...
Aragorn fought his way to the surface, lungs stinging for air. He surfaced quickly and cast his gaze around. Around him hands and heads were emerging through the suffocating white blanket. He forced his way through to help pull the hobbits out of the snow and back into the storm. Gimli had already taken up the argument for turning back with Gandalf again, his gruff voice fighting the roaring wind. Legolas was once again on top of the snow, scouting around for safe passage. Boromir was watching the elf with envy as he pulled Pippin to the surface.
Suddenly Aragorn's eyes widened.
"Serafina!" he shouted. She had not surfaced. There was no more movement in the snow to suggest something struggling to break out from underneath, no hand grasping for help. He cast his eyes about in the storm – she could have been anywhere under the vast amount of snow, "Legolas! Boromir! Help!" he called. Frantically the three of them began digging.
"Where was she?" asked Legolas as he dug randomly in the compacted snow.
"Between Aragorn and I," answered Boromir, shovelling snow from where he had been buried back towards where Aragorn had surfaced.
Aragorn gritted his teeth then said in frustration, "She could barely walk when we started again. She could not have been far ahead of me..." how could he have been as careless as to not know where she had been? Angrily he moved great chunks of snow aside as he canvassed the area between himself, Boromir and the mountain side.
"Here!" he yelled. His hands had struck something softer than snow, "Help me get her out." It was her cheek he had struck; it was a ghastly grey colour. With little effort they pulled her free and laid her on top of the snow. Aragorn despaired at the sight of her face, completely devoid of colour. Quickly he checked for signs of life. He took a steadying breath when he felt her own soft breathing, but her weak pulse rattled his composure.
"Legolas, quickly, pick up some snow and rub her hands, Gimli –" he said as he saw the dwarf wading over, "take one too. Be gentle, make sure you use snow, or she may never feel them again." With steely resolve Aragorn looked at Serafina and ignored the fears settling on him. He knelt next to her head, "Serafina," he called to her, he was so close he to her that he could feel her shallow breath touching his face. He called her name again and began slapping her face gently, trying to make her wake up.
"Boromir! Her feet!" he instructed. He could hear the man ripping off her boot over the wind, then the crunching of snow as he too attempted to save her extremities from frost-bite. Aragorn kept trying desperately to wake her up – the ministrations of the elf, man and dwarf would be useless if she never regained consciousness. A hand thrust the flask of Miruvor into his own, he took it hastily and tried forcing it into her mouth but it dribbled uselessly down her cheeks. He was losing her, he knew it. With more urgency he slapped her cheeks again with more force. Nothing. "Serafina!" he was yelling into her ears now, but for all the reaction from her he may have said nothing. A familiar feeling began racing through his veins; panic had set in. He needed to take a breath to calm himself but there was no time.
Unexpectedly, a feeble hope came to him, flickering, like a star fighting the dawn. "Boromir!" he cried standing up, "Come!"
The man left Serafina's feet, the elf moved quickly to replace him, handing the girl's other hand to Gimli. Aragorn grabbed the front of Boromir's shirt and shouted at him urgently, "You've known her the longest. Do you anything more about her? Anything. Something she might respond to?"
Boromir shook his head; he took his eyes off the Ranger and looked at the girl. Aragorn saw something change in his eyes. It was hesitation. His temper flared, "Boromir – now!" he cried into his face, shaking him with all his strength, "Or she dies..."
Boromir's eyes snapped away from Serafina and he looked squarely at Aragorn. "Yes," he said, his voice unsteady, "yes, try 'Fia'."
Aragorn dropped his arms and confirmed, "Fia?"
"Yes, it's what Olin, the boy, called her – her nickname as a child" but Aragorn was already on his knees whispering in her ears. His face twisted itself into a knot of anguish when she still didn't respond. "Fia!" he cried again as he slapped her face, "Fia!" His heart slowly began to sink. She would not wake. Eyes closed, he bowed his head over her with his hands cradling her face.
A short flurry of movement echoed through his hands. He knew though, that this was just from the ministrations of the elf and dwarf. He despaired at their vain attempt to save her hands and feet. He thought that he should tell them to stop. Again the movement occurred. Steadying himself, he opened his eyes to call the elf and dwarf off – hope was lost. Two bright green eyes stared up at him.
"Fia?" he whispered, disbelieving.
Serafina nodded, her head still in his hands – the same flurry of movement registered in his grip. A smile broke onto his face and he laughed in relief, a weak smile played on her colourless face.
Aragorn lifted his head to see the anxious faces of his companions staring at him in silence. He grinned at them and answered their unspoken question, his voice triumphant over the blistering storm, "She's alright, she lives."
...