A/N: Thanks for the feedback reviewers! Reviews are not only welcomed they are cherished!

Disclaimer: Pretty much isn't mine… except for Serafina, and everything that goes with her.

Chapter Twenty-five

Aragorn knelt at her feet, rubbing them vigorously. Serafina did not know if she would die of the cold or of embarrassment, but she was certain one would claim her soon. She was sitting slightly further away from the fire than the rest of the company on Aragorn's instructions, with an angry blush on her face. The sip of Elvin cordial Gandalf had given each of them, had restored much of Serafina's presence of mind, but it had not however driven the frostbite from her feet. The Ranger had explained that to have any hope of regaining full use of her them, her feet needed to be warmed gradually which, apparently, meant rubbing with snow. The image of Strider, Aragorn the heir to the Throne of Gondor massaging her battered, frozen feet grated sorely on her pride.

Soon Aragorn began rubbing them with some form of balm. She did not ask what it was. They were camped half way back down the mountain pass they had so recently climbed. Their fire was protected by the overhanging cliff wall that formed a half-open cave, providing them with a little shelter. An outlandish silence fell presently onto the night. Serafina listened, but for the first time in days there was nothing to hear.

"And so, the storm passes" said Gandalf quietly from his place, seated between Legolas and Frodo. Serafina glanced around the fellowship, each of them sat, huddled close to the fire. Soon they re-engaged in a conversation she was sick of hearing. Boromir was still trying to push for heading to the Gap of Rohan, Serafina secretly agreed with him. It certainly seemed more agreeable than a mine, but the mine was still infinitely more preferable to the Mountain. In any case, she was glad her opinion was not called for because she would be loathed to admit agreement with Boromir. Gandalf remained solid in his conviction that the Gap of Rohan was closed to them, and as Frodo had chosen Moria, that would be their path.

The conversation frustrated Serafina immensely, it kept going around and around in circles; each participant stating their views and disagreeing with the last's. Legolas was not keen on Moria, which gave Serafina a little prick of pleasure. Gimli thought it the best possible course. Frodo did not openly participate but he was constantly named in the discussion and he listened attentively. No participant brought any new arguments to their case, yet still the conversation endured. Serafina looked across at Merry; he had been listening too with a frown fixed on his face. He looked at her then rolled his eyes extravagantly, Serafina smiled in agreement.

Earlier in the evening Aragorn had stated his opinion as he checked each of their limbs for traces of frostbite. He was not partial to the mines, yet openly admitted he thought it their only option. He had only contributed his thoughts once. Serafina thought she would have had a more pleasant evening if the rest of the company had followed Aragorn's example – speak your mind once and move on, then she remembered the Ranger kneeling at her feet and she realised nothing could have made this evening pleasant.

Sensation began to burst into her feet, painful explosions ignited where Aragorn's hands pressed into her. She fought the urge to recoil her feet, but couldn't help a twitch of pain as he paid particular attention to her little toe. His eyes snapped up immediately, "Does it sting?" he asked.

Serafina could only nod. She did not trust her voice to answer for her. She felt the pressure ease but he did not desist.

She glanced around her, looking for something to distract her. Gimli was once again boasting about the hospitality awaiting them. His comments were largely directed at Legolas who was having trouble ignoring him. Merry and Pippin were helping themselves to the remainder of the evening meal. Gandalf sat alone, with his eyes fixed on the fire. Boromir too sat alone transfixed by something opposite him. Serafina followed his gaze, it lead directly to Frodo, where the hobbit sat in silence next to Sam.

Aragorn had moved his attentions to another painful area; she twitched again involuntarily, but ignored it. She turned back to Boromir, wondering desperately how to break his focus. But Aragorn interrupted her musings.

"Fia," he began. She smiled at the familiar nickname. She had not heard it since Olin himself had spoken to her – that was until today. She remembered her surprise at seeing Aragorn's eyes when she'd woken from her unconsciousness; they'd looked so blue against the grey storm. She had expected to find herself dead in Olin's company. After later deliberation she realised she should have known she was not dead. Wherever Olin's soul had gone, she did not believe she would be allowed to join him there. A pang of anguish for his needless death crossed her face, she imagined her expression looked something like Aragorn's had before he'd opened his eyes to see her awake. The depth of pain she'd seen in his features scared her slightly. His voice brought her back to the present, "Does the name upset you?" he asked quietly. She could tell it was not what he had planned to say, that it was her expression that triggered his concern.

"No, I like it," she said brushing his concern aside, "I just haven't heard it in a long time" she explained and smiled again. Suddenly she remembered Boromir and her head swung in his direction rapidly. To her relief Merry and Pippin sat either side of him; Pippin seemed to be detailing his family tree. Boromir's eyes though, still sneaked to look at the ring bearer every couple of seconds. The smile vanished from her face.

"You would do well to leave him alone," Aragorn said quietly, looking at her feet.

Serafina did not answer.

When he spoke again she noticed he was careful to keep his voice quiet, "Despite his faults, Boromir is a –"

"Noble man, yes," she said to him in a fierce whisper, "I know."

"Then why do you harass him so? Do you not appreciate his efforts to help save your life?"

"To be completely honest with you, Aragorn," she said his name with a sneer, "his efforts to save my life will have little bearing on my actions."

"You do this for sport?" it was more of a statement than a question, disgust clear in his voice.

"My motives are not your concern."

Aragorn stared at her, his face slowly rearranging itself as he contemplated her. Serafina could not bring herself to look at him any longer. Thoroughly repulsed with herself, she looked to where the two hobbits had been busy distracting Boromir, only to find none of them there. Quickly she glanced around to locate the man. Eventually her eyes fell on Pippin he gave her a grim smile and pointed to Boromir's apparently sleeping form. She nodded at him then peeked at Aragorn, to check to see if the exchange had gone unnoticed.

It hadn't.

"What are you up to?" he demanded looking her full in the eye, his hands paused at their work for the first time.

Serafina held his gaze. His eyes, that had seemed so blue earlier that day, were back to their normal bluish grey. It would be so easy to tell him, she knew, so easy to confess that she was simply trying to help, in her own abstract way. But habit or stubbornness held her lips closed. Suddenly Merry appeared at her side.

"I think we should tell him," he said to her seriously. Serafina raised her eyebrows in surprise, but Merry just shrugged his shoulders and continued, "It's not like it's a secret really anymore, you saw him earlier," he directed the last comment to Aragorn, who shook his head in bewilderment. Merry looked at Serafina for help but she kept her mouth closed and looked down at the snow. Merry sighed then began the explanation; "Pippin and I noticed a change in Boromir a few days ago. We think that, well," he paused as he came to the awkward part of the topic. Serafina kept her eyes fixed firmly downwards. "We, that is Pippin and I, suspected that the Ring is beginning to, I don't know… have some power over him" he finished clumsily. Serafina commended Merry in her mind; he had spoken with such delicacy, as that Boromir's character remained untarnished, something Serafina knew she was incapable of.

She listened intently for a response from the Ranger, eventually he sighed and said, "I sincerely hope that you are wrong Master Hobbit, but the safest way is caution. Why did you not voice this earlier?"

Merry took a moment to adjust his answer, Serafina took a breath and raised her head to look at the hobbit, making sure to avoid Aragorn's eyes. Seated as they were, Merry stood taller than both herself and Aragorn. His face was solemn when he finally answered, "Pippin and I, sometimes we feel like we're not taken very seriously because we weren't exactly hand picked to come on this quest, we just refused to be left behind."

Serafina could deny herself no longer; she turned to Aragorn, desperate to see what she would find in his face. Aragorn regarded the Hobbit gravely as he spoke, "I hope that from now you will be assured that each member of this fellowship regards yourself and all your kind with nothing but the deepest respect and the highest esteem. Never be afraid to seek the counsel of friends. If ever you are ridiculed for seeking advice from a friend, you will at least know the trueness of their character."

Serafina felt a pang of agony inside her. Here she saw true friendship being professed with the most sincerity she had heard in her life. For a moment she wondered if indeed she could go back to her old life when she was eventually freed from this quest. Fortunately she was spared further contemplation when Aragorn began to speak again.

"So you decided to tell Serafina?" he asked with perfect neutrality. If she had not seen the hostility brewing in his eyes before Merry had come to her aide she might have almost believed the unbiased tone of his voice.

"We thought that she could divert his attention the best," he answered with a ghost of a smile.

Aragorn nodded in reply and his hands took up their task again, Serafina fought to keep her face passive as the pain washed over her afresh. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing.

"Pippin is telling Gandalf now," Merry said, his voice had nearly regained its usual animation.

"You have done well, little hobbit," said Aragorn kindly. Serafina heard some shuffling of feet and realised Merry had gone. She felt her guard slip a little and a slight grimace of pain passed across her face. "You should have told me," Aragorn said to her.

She looked at him, expecting to find disappointment on his face. Instead his expression was lighter than she'd seen it in days. He looked up from her feet and smiled. It wasn't a casual, carefree smile, but it was very far from what she'd been expecting.

"I couldn't," she said quietly surprised at his offer of friendship.

"Why not? I would not have rebuked you."

Serafina opened her mouth and closed it a couple of times, trying to find the words that eluded her. How would she explain? Eventually she forced the words out of her mouth, they came out stiffly and stilted but it was the best she could do. "I didn't feel comfortable talking to you…" she left off the second half of the sentence, she was not ready to apologise.

A sudden snigger emerged from the Ranger. She looked at him quizzically; his friendly smile had changed into a very uncharacteristic self-satisfied smirk. He barely tried to hide his amusement as he replaced her socks on her feet and began to relace her boots.

"What?" she demanded finally, unable to remain unaffected as he grinned to himself.

Aragorn removed the smile from his face, but shook his head. After he had finished with her boots he sat next to her and took up her injured arm. He did not remove the dressing, but instead turned it over gently in his hands, pressing it gently in this place then that.

"Does that hurt?" he asked absent-mindedly.

"No," she lied.

He looked at her and frowned, clearly recognising the lie. "Fia," he said warmly, "I cannot help you as well as I could if you were honest with me. Pain does not signify weakness."

"Fia," she remarked smiling, "it is lucky you thought of it."

"Of what?"

"The name, of course" she said casually.

"How would I have thought of it? Serafina, you are deliberately evading me. It is important that I know how badly this wound affects you," he said gently.

The mildness of his voice struck her, it crossed her mind briefly that he must have forgiven her concerning Arwen or Boromir, though she did not know which. But something was gnawing at the corners of her mind. She frowned at him then said, "I don't know how you thought of it. But it is lucky that you did," reinforced Serafina.

He stoped pressing her arm and looked at her, "I never said that I thought of 'Fia'."

"But you did" she countered.

"I called it yes," he said, "But you are indebted to Boromir. He remembered the name from the boy, Olin."

Serafina froze and stared at Aragorn in confusion – it was not possible for Boromir to have heard her name from Olin, Olin was killed before they had realised he'd taken her place. Suddenly with a force greater than she had ever felt, comprehension fell upon her. Fury replaced confusion.

Mind blank but for one thought she ripped her arm out of Aragorn's grasp and scanned the company. Eyes settling on her object she flung herself across camp, drawing a dagger as she ran. She was on top of Boromir in an instant. Panting frantically, she rolled him over so that he was facing her and pressed her dagger to his throat with her right hand, holding his shoulder to the ground with her uninjured left arm. Boromir woke instantly, he could have pushed her off easily but the cool metal pressing against his neck made him hesitate.

"You knew!" she screeched.

"Knew what, Thief?" he yelled at her, enraged.

"You knew it wasn't me!"

Boromir didn't answer but moved to grab her arm holding the threatening dagger. Serafina felt his tight grip close around her injured wrist, and let out a cry of pain, but she did not drop her weapon. Realising his advantage he strengthen his grip. Serafina could hear yelling and movement through the rest of the party, but she ignored them. The pain in her wrist was unbearable, but she tried to focus on holding the dagger – it was her one advantage. If she lost her grip she knew she would lose the fight. She felt her face twist in pain and in hate as she stared at the man underneath her.

"Deny it then, if you can!" she screamed at him.

"How can I deny what I don't know I have done?" he asked struggling beneath her to a sitting position.

With all of he force she slammed him back down into the cold snow, but the effort she exerted compromised her grip on her dagger and Boromir took the opportunity to twist her wrist. She cried out in agony and the weapon dropped uselessly to the cold ground. Boromir wasted no time. Before she knew it she was being pressed up against the wall of the mountain that sheltered their camp. Boromir's face was inches from her own.

"By what right do you attack a sleeping man?" he asked dangerously.

Serafina met his eye, her face misshapen with loathing as she regarded him. She tried to grasp for a weapon but Boromir held her fast. She turned up her nose in disgust and spat in his face. He stood so close that her saliva splattered back into her own.

He wiped his face on his sleeve, turning red with rage.

"By what right did you knowingly kill an innocent boy?" she yelled at him. Boromir stood immobilized, comprehension dawning in his face. "Did you think I would not figure it out?" she questioned him venomously, "You should have kept your secret. Now I swear I will not rest until all of Middle-Earth knows what you did," she paused as she struggled against him, but Boromir was unmovable. Serafina remained wedged between him and the cold hard rock behind her. She took his silence as an admission of guilt and plunged on bitingly, "How did you justify it to yourself; because he did it to save me and I did not deserved to be saved? Or maybe because you thought his life wasn't worth the air it consumed? What was it?" she demanded, her voice manic. His face was stony, blood running from it, turning it a pale grey colour. She thrashed under his weight, filled with burning rage, "How did you look into his eye and speak to him only to kill him out of spite?"

Aragorn watched in disbelief as she erupted at Boromir, he'd had to convince Legolas to lower his bow – he had only succeeded once Boromir had disarmed her. His concern for the lives of them both prevented him from getting caught up in the accusations being made by Serafina, he heard them and the seriousness of it registered but he could not afford to fully engage in the situation. He sensed Boromir's own anger abating slightly and nodded to Legolas. Together they pulled the man off Serafina. He saw from over Boromir's shoulder that she was running towards them.

"Legolas!" he instructed, looking pointedly towards the girl. The elf understood and ran to intercept her. She struggled in the elf's arms but she could not escape him. Boromir resisted Aragorn, but he did not make for the girl. The Ranger let him go and looked around the company. The hobbits were all standing staring at the scene. Gimli had his axe in his hand but it hung forgotten by his side as he looked from Boromir to the girl. Gandalf was the only member of the fellowship who had remained seated, but his keen eyes danced between the two. Legolas still contended with Serafina's struggling as she yelled insults at him for holding her back. Boromir was pacing, trying desperately to keep his self-control.

Aragorn took a step towards him, blocking his path. "What is going on?" he demanded.

Boromir looked him in the eye, and said loudly, "She is accusing me of something I did not commit."

"Liar!" screamed Serafina from behind the elf.

"I am not lying," said Boromir quietly. Aragorn searched his face, and saw the truth in his voice reflected in his face.

"Then why does she accuse you of it? We know the boy was killed in her place," asked Aragorn, his voice level.

"You know a lie," Boromir said to him, lowering his head.

"Then she deserves the truth!" he said fiercely.

"It will bring her no comfort," Boromir said, a warning sharp in his eye.

"Tell her!" he said through gritted teeth and pushed him in the direction of Legolas and Serafina who still writhed in the arms of the elf.

"Look at that Boromir!" she cried triumphantly, "Not even Aragorn will defend you now that he knows the depth you sank to."

"You don't know what you are talking about." He said quietly, but loud enough for all to hear.

"I know," she all but spat, "that for you to have heard my name from Olin means that you would have had to have spoken with him. Which means you would have seen that you had the wrong person, and still you killed him anyway! Then you spread the story of my infamy; how I deceived my friend and switched places with him to fool the guard, all to escape my own death. Serafina; the thief child of Gondor, betrayer of trust. I can imagine how you delighted in killing him, determined to punish me in whatever way you could."

Boromir strode towards her, for a moment Aragorn though he would have to restrain the man again but he stopped at Legolas' back to look Serafina full in the face. "I did not kill him," he said. Boromir's head was so close to Serafina's that Aragorn was unable to see her face. But her voice rang clearly into the night.

"Just because you did not perform the killing yourself does not clear your guilt."

"Be quiet!" Boromir yelled into her face, "Your precious Olin never died – we spread the story of his death as an attempt to appeal to your better nature, an attempt that failed."

"You lie!"

"And what motivation would I have to lie to you now? You know that I know the name 'Fia', which, as you said indicates that I spoke to the boy. If you knew him at all, you would have known that it would have taken longer than a few hours to prise any kind of information from him. And it was only a few hours after we found him that we decided to spread the story of the tragic swap. To this day he has never spoken to us! He would not have given you up so quickly, not even your little pet name. For months he remained certain that one day I would come to visit him only to find the cell empty because Serafina had come to rescue him. It tortured him for years, as day after day went by with no sign of you. It was then that I learnt your name, he would cry out in his sleep 'Fia! Serafina!' over and over. Day by day he withdrew further into himself and I pitied the wretched boy. We began to consider a release, certain as we were that the thief Serafina had no heart and had abandoned Gondor and Olin. But slowly we began to realise that we could not just release the boy. He had grown into a man, he was wiry, strong and his mind was unstable. He had turned into a caged monster, speaking rarely and making little sense when he did, as insane as he was cruel. We had to transfer him away from the other prisoners, two of our men died in the process. Since then we haven't dared to move him. We have a constant guard at his cell; they call it the deathwatch. I wish now the story were true, that he was killed in your place. But as it stands, I am only responsible for the fact that he lives, but on your shoulders rests the blame for who he has become."

Stunned silence met the night as Boromir turned away from Serafina. Aragorn saw her face; she looked like a stranger to him. She stood against the elf, her large eyes watching the retreating back of Boromir, her lips slightly parted, forgotten. She looked like a creature without hope, without anything. Presently Boromir turned back to her and said from across the camp, "You asked what I would do with you when we make it to Gondor. I would march you to the dungeons of Minas Tirith and present you to your friend. I would make you realise the full consequence of your betrayal. And I would leave you there, at his mercy."

Aragorn watched as Serafina crumpled against the elf, tears streaming down her desolate face, leaving tracks through the grime on her cheeks.