If Boromir noticed the redness around her eyes when she returned with armfuls of twigs and sticks, he didn't comment upon it - and for that, Sybil was grateful. In addition to a litany of other things. They'd known one another for barely even an hour, and she already had a list. By the end of the day, that list would likely be an entire scroll. He'd already caught one fish, but when she tried to begin cleaning it with the knife he'd set out, she found that her hands were all thumbs, and set about building the fire instead. Flames seemed marginally safer than knives…although given the night she'd just had, that assessment might've been a tad dubious.
She hadn't even realised that she was hungry until she began eating, and the process brought her back to reality a little - and then a little more with each bite. Enough to notice the worried glances he kept shooting her way over the campfire. Maybe he'd asked more questions before now, she had little memory of it. That fact alone was enough to have her flushing.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled.
"There's no need to be," he said "You seem more yourself now. Enough that I might ask…"
Her shoulders tensed, and she expected him to begin trying to tease the story of how she'd ended up in this position from her - and then they slumped in relief when he did continue.
"How many days walk is it from here to the next village?"
Ah. Of Course. He'd be keen to get underway.
"It's half a day to the road, if you make good progress," she said "Another five or so west from there, at the very least - to Bree. That's the next substantial one. Staddle and Combe are somewhat closer, but not by much, and the additional travel is worthwhile when you consider how much more Bree offers."
He grimaced. "I see."
Sybil could understand that grimace. A week's travel was no small thing to sniff at…even if his clothing looked like he'd seen far longer. Whatever his business, she was slowing him down from reaching it. Although she would have thought he'd at least known his destination. He was no soldier of fortune.
"If I'm keeping you from a pressing matter," she said - and not for the first time.
"I won't hear more of this," he shook his head.
"If I am keeping you from something important," she reiterated firmly, meeting his gaze "I would not wish to."
"I've been travelling for some time, it is true," he nodded, "But that is precisely why I can spare another fortnight to escort you to Bree and double back. When I saw the smoke, I came so that I could offer help - I will not shirk that responsibility now that I have the opportunity to do so. I would not wish to."
Whether it was because she was beginning to feel more human again, or because of how easily he turned her own words back to her, Sybil couldn't fight the small smile that inched its way onto her lips.
"Very well. I won't impede you."
"You have my gratitude," he teased gently - and smiled when she breathed a laugh.
It didn't mean that they had nothing left to discuss, though.
"And double back?" she echoed his own words back to him.
If he was from Gondor, and he'd come this far north only to then turn east, there was only one place he could be headed. But he misunderstood her, and a note of exasperation coloured his sigh as he responded.
"It's no troub-"
"I don't mean to go to Bree," she interrupted before he could misunderstand her.
He blinked and fell silent - which then had Sybil resisting the urge to cringe. Her manners had grown a tad rusty in Bera's cabin.
"The Bree-landers are…well, it's no matter, but I didn't plan to turn west," she shook her head, watching him carefully as she spoke "Before we met, my intention was to turn eastwards. To make for Rivendell."
She'd barely been aware that she'd really made her mind up to do so - officially, beyond all doubt - before she said it, but now that she'd lended her voice to the decision, cool relief washed over her, and any hesitation over whether she'd made the right decision was vanquished once and for all.
The people of Bree had little tolerance for anything they deemed strange, as well as a very wide scope for what constituted strangeness in itself. Sybil was strange by average standards – by Bree standards, she was positively untrustworthy. A reputation like that didn't make for a promising new start.
"Rivendell?" he echoed, staring at her with renewed interest.
"Yes," she said "Rivendell."
"What business have you with the Elves? Do you have friends among them?"
"I can't pretend that I do," she admitted, and then she hesitated.
Boromir's expression was too eager for her to lock up and refuse to elaborate, so she did what she'd done so far - offered a palatable version of the truth.
"It's going to sound odd," she hedged.
If anything, his eyes only lit up more keenly, so she continued after a mouthful of fish allowed her to collect her thoughts.
"I had a dream," she said finally "A strange dream. One of Rivendell. I've never been there before, and yet I know what it looks like because I've seen it as I slept. It's the same distance to the elves from here as it is to Bree, and there's nothing for me in Bree – even if nothing waits for me in Rivendell, I won't be worse-off. Elves travel westwards in droves these days, I can journey back to the villages of Men with them, if they'll be kind enough to allow it."
It was, by far, the most amount of words she'd ever said to her new acquaintance all at once – and she knew not whether she was saying it all to convince him, convince herself, or just to be absolutely certain that it continued to make sense when uttered aloud. It did – to her, at least. It remained to be seen, however, if it did to him, too, as she found him staring at her with an expression that was utterly unreadable.
Sybil had never met anybody from Gondor before, not that she knew of at least, but she was struck suddenly by the fear that they were inclined to suspicion the same way Bree-folk were when it came to what they dubbed unnatural.
"It's likely nothing," she said quickly, cheeks blazing. "It's not that I believe some grand prophecy is at play here. But I've no set place to which I might go, my options all lie within the same distance, and with this- this dream coming to me at the same time, I thought it might mean something. It's all I have to guide me at present."
Boromir watched her for what felt like an utterly endless stretch of time, and then when he finally spoke she could glean nothing of his opinion from his words.
"A dream?" he echoed.
"I know it sounds absurd," she said, "and I'm not mad. However much I might look so."
Of course, then she winced. Because how often did people who weren't mad have to eagerly insist so? The weak attempt at a joke earned her another smile from him, though – and those smiles had such an earnest way about them that she couldn't help but feel better.
"I…" he paused, and then breathed a laugh, smoothing a hand over his short beard before he regarded her with renewed interest "Forgive me. My silence was one of disbelief, not scorn. It…"
He didn't seem to have any idea where to begin – which, considering how she'd just rambled like an idiot without pausing for breath, was something she could hardly judge him for. There was more than just curiosity in his green eyes as they met her dark blue ones, though. Scrutiny, maybe, but whatever he saw as she returned it patiently didn't then lead to suspicion. Then, he finally found the words he'd been meaning to say, clearing his throat and tilting his head a little as he began anew.
"Might it lend credence to your theory of timing if you were to learn that I also seek to go to Rivendell, also on matters relating to strange dreams?"
Now it was Sybil's turn to stare, the fish atop the crude plate entirely forgotten in her lap. Then, finally, she breathed a disbelieving laugh. Whatever Boromir's business was, it must have been of great importance, for at her clear and true disbelief, his eyes lost whatever slither of suspicion still remained lurking within them.
"Truly?" her voice was barely above a whisper as she asked.
It wasn't as if she thought he was toying with her. He didn't seem the sort, even in their limited acquaintanceship, but she could hardly believe his words. Yes, she'd lied. A small, white lie. It wasn't exactly a dream that brought her to Rivendell. But that she should feel called to it now, at the very same time that she'd been thrown into the path of someone who could see her there safely? It beggared belief.
No doubt he saw the wonder on his own face reflected back at him…albeit in a pale, soot-riddled mirror.
"I give you my word. You are in no state to travel alone," he said, "and I do not know the way. It's a fortuitous twist of fate indeed."
"That my home burned down?" one of her eyebrows twitched upwards.
"No," he said quickly. "Of course I didn't mean- only that our meeting in such a manner-"
"I know," she cut in, "I'm sorry. A poor attempt at a joke."
Maybe she should keep a lid on that, if they really were to travel together this next week. But Boromir grinned, and then he laughed, and the awkward feeling in her chest eased up a little bit.
"The road lies south," she said to distract herself from it, "It leads straight to Rivendell – but it also strays too closely to the Trollshaws for my comfort. That's why I never travelled eastwards…not that it would make much difference in the coming months. Word is, they stray further afield as of late…and they do so armed."
"That was not the case before?"
"Not unless their wits count," she said, "And usually that still left them hardly armed at all, at one time. But they grow more cunning, and so more dangerous."
For the first time, something darkened in Boromir's features. That was no great mystery, though. If he'd been travelling for as long as she suspected he had, he'd know well enough how the world was changing – and he was a soldier, to boot. If anything, he'd know far better than she did as to how things were turning sour.
"Once we find the road, and cross the bridge, I would recommend that we veer south. Not dramatically so, but just so that we remain out of reach of things that may lurk in wait of less wary travellers. I'm afraid I wouldn't be much good defending your back in a fight."
"I will see to it that your role remains strictly as navigator and not warrior."
He offered the vow with such solemnity that it might've been easy to miss the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards. Sybil returned the smile as best she could, but feared it still looked strained and awkward. If that was the case, though, he didn't hold it against her, nodding and then turning his attention to the land around them.
The fog was dissipating – and the wind had changed, no longer carrying the smoke towards them, but in the other direction – all of which resulted in a clear, bright morning that cast them in a warm, sunny glow that felt shockingly sudden. It seemed a good omen. One, most importantly of all, that she was much too bone-weary to question for now.
She'd save that for when she had to get up and try to walk again.
A/N: I'm leaning more towards the books in terms of Boromir's journey to Rivendell is concerned (although I do get why they gave him a slightly different entry in the movies – the majestic horse moment was *chef kiss*), but as far as his appearance is concerned, I do fully picture our Lord and Saviour Sean Bean, so that's who I'll be describing.
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