Fury blazed within her, fueled by the cold sting of snow that had soaked through her shoes and pierced her bones with its icy grip. She struggled to keep up with the rest of the group, her shivering body unable to match their pace. Aragorn lingered back with her, his warm voice coaxing her forward as she snapped at him in frustration. Despite her harsh words, he remained by her side, understanding the misery she was enduring. The biting wind whipped at their faces, stinging exposed skin and making it difficult to see ahead.
As they climbed a steep hill, Frodo stumbled and began tumbling towards them. Both rangers lunged forward, bracing themselves against the chill ground to stop the hobbit from rolling any further. They helped him up, brushing off the snow that coated his small frame. It was then that Frodo realized the Ring was missing from his neck. Panic set in as they scanned the snowy terrain for any sign of it.
In the distance, Boromir held up the trinket triumphantly, its golden chain glinting in the dim light. The entire company halted in anticipation, watching as he gazed mesmerized at the powerful object dangling before him. She instinctively placed a hand on her sword's hilt, ready to defend if necessary. The weight of their mission hung heavy in the air as they waited for what would happen next.
The piercing call of "Boromir!" echoed through the air, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears. Aragorn's voice was strained with worry and fear, and Alana could feel her heart tighten in response.
"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over such a small thing, such a little thing." She strained to hear Boromir's words as he stood ahead of them, his eyes fixed on something only he could see. But she could sense the pull of the Ring, its insidious whispers causing a throbbing behind her eyes.
"Boromir." Alana approached the man and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to break him from his trance. It took a moment for him to register her presence, confusion clouding his features.
"Boromir!" Kitra called again, her voice urgent. He turned to look at her and his eyes flicked down to the hand that rested on the hilt of her sword. Understanding dawned in his expression.
"Give the Ring to Frodo." Alana's voice was firm as she nodded towards Frodo, who stood with determination in his stance. Boromir hesitated for a moment before walking back down to them, holding out the Ring for Frodo. The weight of it seemed almost too much for him to bear, but with one final encouraging nod from Alana, he handed it over to its rightful bearer.
Frodo snatched the ring from his hands, a glint of determination in his eyes. After a moment, Boromir grinned widely, ruffling Frodo's hair in playful camaraderie. With a swift turn, he joined Alana at her side. Alana glanced over Boromir's shoulder at her and the shared a knowing look.
Kitra released the hilt of her sword, sensing the tension in the air dissipate as Aragorn followed suit. She felt his hand on hers and gave it a comforting squeeze, silently reminding him to remain calm. From the corner of her eye, she could see Boromir talking with Alana. She placed her own hand over Aragorn's, reassuring him that everything was okay.
"Remember to breathe," she whispered to him before leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek with her cold lips. He smiled at her half-heartedly, grateful for her calming presence. She walked ahead of him confidently, keeping an eye out for any potential danger.
Alana hung back slightly until Aragorn looked back at her. His nod indicated that all was well and she continued to walk beside him. When they were close enough to join in the conversation, Kitra turned to her cousin with concern etched on her face.
"Is he alright?" she asked quietly.
"The ring calls to him," Alana replied softly, her voice carrying both worry and understanding. Kitra nodded, having heard the whispers amongst their group about the power of the ring and its hold on Frodo's mind.
"He is struggling to fight it isn't he?" She asked, hoping that she was wrong. Though she knew better than to hope at such times.
"He won't admit to it, but yes. He has a good heart and good intentions for his people but the Ring is beginning to twist his mind." Alana sighed and looked at the man walking away from them. She could see that the two had become close and trusted Alana to keep an eye on him.
"Keep an eye on him." She told her cousin and Alana nodded, though a smirk crossed her face shortly after.
"I'll do my best, but you should probably steer clear for now. You two didn't exactly get off on the right foot. He will see your hovering as a lack of trust." Alana explained.
"He wouldn't be wrong." She told her cousin and she could tell that it hit a nerve, but she couldn't worry about that. She had promised to protect Frodo. Alana nodded before picking up her pace to walk beside Boromir again. Kitra watched as Alana put her hand on Boromir's back in a comforting gesture.
The Fellowship struggled on, their boots sinking deeper into the snow with each step. The mountain loomed above them, its snowy peaks glittering in the harsh sunlight. They were high up now, and the air was thin and biting. Each breath felt like a knife in her chest.
As they climbed higher, the snow grew deeper and more treacherous. Her feet were numb with cold, and she feared for her toes. Frostbite was a real danger, and she prayed that they would reach lower ground soon. At one point, the snow reached her waist, and she had to carry a hobbit in her arms to keep him from being swallowed by the drifts.
Frodo had initially sought her help, but she had quickly passed him off to Aragorn, too afraid of the ring around his neck. Instead, she carried Pippin, grateful for his lighter weight compared to the others. Legolas seemed to have no trouble striding along the top of the snow, and it only made her angrier. She cursed under her breath every time he passed by, much to Pippin's amusement. He even caught on when she started cursing in elvish.
As they trudged on, struggling against the elements, she could barely hear voices in the wind. Someone was calling out to them - or perhaps it was just her imagination playing tricks on her tired mind.
"There is a fell voice on the air" Legolas reported from the front.
The old man's voice rang out in a deafening roar, filled with fury. Lightning crackled above them, illuminating the dark sky and casting eerie shadows across the rocky mountainside. Boulders tumbled down the slope, their thunderous crashes echoing through the valley. She pressed herself tightly against the mountain's rough surface, feeling its jagged edges digging into her back.
"He's trying to bring down the mountain. Gandalf, we must turn back!" Aragorn's desperate plea echoed through the chaos as she felt Sam huddle closer to her, seeking shelter from the whipping winds and flying debris. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and fear as Saruman wielded his powerful magic, unleashing a devastating assault on their path forward.
"NO!" Gandalf argued. Gandalf quickly got himself up on top of the snow with Legolas. Gandalf did what he could to counteract the spell that was being cast on the mountain, but it didn't seem to be working.
A second deafening crack of lightning tore through the sky above them, and this time it brought not rocks but a blizzard with it. The snow descended in a wild frenzy, covering everything in sight and sending a wave of icy air that knocked the breath from her chest. She fought against the weight of the snow, pushing and twisting her body in a desperate attempt to break free. But it only seemed to bury her deeper, like a prison of white.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she managed to thrust her hand above the surface, gasping for air as she did so. But exhaustion overcame her and she slumped back into the snow, struggling to even catch her breath. Suddenly, a strong hand gripped hers and pulled her from the snowdrift. It was Boromir, his face etched with determination and concern. Together they unearthed Pippin, who gave Boromir a grateful nod as they stood up.
As they caught their breath, she felt another presence behind her and immediately knew it was Aragorn. She leaned into him as he pressed himself against her back, his warm body providing some respite from the freezing cold. He quickly rubbed his hands up and down her arms in an effort to generate heat, his touch both comforting and reassuring
"We must get off the mountain! Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city!" Boromir yelled as soon as they were all unburied.
"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn yelled just above her head and she ducked away from the sudden loud noise.
"If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it! Let us go through the Mines of Moria." Gimli suggested and Gandalf looked as if he had seen a ghost.
"Let the Ringbearer decide." Gandalf said indecisively.
"We cannot stay here!" Boromir yelled, moving closer to Alana. " This will be the death of the woman and the hobbits!" She glared at the back of his head and she caught the dirty look that Alana shot him over her shoulder.
"Frodo?" Gandalf asked and Frodo looked at her. She was shivering up against Aragorn and she could see that he had made up his mind.
"We will go through the Mines." Frodo announced and she nodded at the Hobbit, grateful that they would be off the mountain soon.
"So be it." Gandalf looked slightly annoyed that they were headed to the one place she knew he tried to avoid.
As they descended the mountain, she welcomed the relief of walking downhill after their arduous climb. The rocky terrain seemed to smooth out beneath her feet and the air grew warmer as they descended. Despite their quick pace, she found herself falling behind once again, her legs aching from the strenuous hike. Aragorn noticed her struggle and called for a rest, directing the group to find a suitable spot to camp for the night. He offered his hand and helped her down the final stretch to their previous campsite. Gandalf wasted no time in using his magic to conjure a fire, its warm glow beckoning to her. Exhausted and drenched from the journey, everyone took turns changing into dry clothes, but she remained seated by the fire, unable to muster enough energy to move.
"Darling you are not going to get warm in those wet clothes," Gandalf said to her as he sat down beside her.
Her voice was barely a whisper as she spoke, her hands hovering nervously above the fire.
Legolas nodded in understanding and pointed to a large boulder nearby. "You can change behind there," he said, sitting across from her. She thanked him with a small smile and grabbed her pack, making her way over to the secluded spot. The warmth of the fire had left her feeling comfortable enough to remove some layers of clothing, but as she attempted to undo the laces of her corset, her trembling hands refused to comply. Frustration welled up inside her and she let out a sigh before deciding to seek help from her cousin. She peeked back around the boulder and made her way over to him, hoping he could assist her with the stubborn ties.
"I could use some help." She sighed in frustration to her cousin who stood up immediately to help her.
"What too used to the maids doing it for you?" Boromir remarked and she turned to him, very annoyed.
"No! One my hands hurt they are so cold!" She snapped at him. He stood up from his place on the ground and looked her dead in the eyes.
"You women are all useless." Boromir bit out, turning to walk to the other side of the fire.
"Excuse me?!" Kitra called, her anger making her forget about the cold for a brief moment.
Boromir spun back around to face her, his eyes blazing. "You heard me. All you do is slow us down. We should have left you back in Rivendell where you belong, not out here trying to prove yourself."
Kitra's hand instinctively went to the hilt of her sword as she took a step towards him. "I am just as capable as anyone here. I've trained my whole life for this."
"And who trained you? Your father? Your brother? Wait, let me guess your mother ?" He sneered at her, not knowing her past.
"Boromir..."Alana warned and he ignored her. Kitra stumbled back away from him, tears flooding her eyes.
Drenched in anger and resentment, she took a few bold steps towards him until their bodies were nearly touching. With a fierce jab, she thrust her finger into his chest, punctuating each word with venom.
"My parents are dead. I was raised and trained by the elves." Her voice seethed like a boiling cauldron. "Insult me again and you won't wake to see the morning."
She stepped back, giving him one last scathing glare before turning to walk away. But he caught her wrist in an iron grip, his fingers digging into her skin. She whirled around, her eyes blazing with fury.
"How unfortunate that your travels and battles have left you so scarred," he spat under his breath for her ears only. "It's a miracle that Aragorn can stand to look at you, let alone touch you!"
Her fury burned within her like a raging inferno, consuming all reason and logic. With a deafening battle cry, she unleashed it all on him, her fists flying with the strength of a wild storm. Her knuckles connected with his jaw and sent him hurtling backwards into the unforgiving embrace of the cold, snow-covered ground. Gasping for breath and feeling every muscle in her body tremble with exhaustion, she let her arms fall limply to her sides as her vision blurred from the sheer intensity of her outburst.
For a brief moment, she swayed precariously, her body drained of all energy and fighting spirit. But then, just before succumbing to unconsciousness, she felt strong hands wrap around her waist, pulling her back from the brink. It was Aragorn, steadfast and unyielding, supporting her with unwavering strength as she finally gave in to the darkness that beckoned her.
ALANA'S POV
Alana watched in shock as her cousin unleashed her fury on Boromir, striking him with a powerful blow that sent him crashing to the ground. She had never seen Kitra lose control like that before. But Boromir's cruel words had clearly pushed her over the edge, reopening deep wounds from her past.
As Aragorn caught Kitra's collapsing form, Alana rushed over to them, concern etched on her face. She helped Aragorn gently lower Kitra to the ground, pillowing her head on a bedroll. Kitra's eyes were closed, her breathing shallow. Exhaustion and emotion had taken their toll.
Alana turned to glare at Boromir, who was slowly sitting up and rubbing his jaw. Anger flared within her. Alana strode over to where Boromir sat, her eyes flashing with fury. She stood over him, hands clenched at her sides.
"How dare you speak to her that way," Alana hissed through gritted teeth. "You know nothing of what she's been through, the losses she's endured."
Boromir met her gaze defiantly. "I only spoke the truth. She is not fit for this quest."
"And you think you are?" Alana scoffed. "With your judgmental attitude and cruel words? Kitra has more strength and courage in her little finger than you possess in your entire body."
She took a step closer, looming over him. "If you ever speak to my cousin like that again, you will have me to answer to. And believe me, it will not be pleasant."
Without waiting for a response, Alana turned on her heel and walked back to where Aragorn has taken Kitra behind the rock to finish getting her into dry clothing.
"Will you help me get her into dry clothes?" Aragorn asked her.
Alana nodded solemnly and knelt beside Kitra's unconscious form. Together, she and Aragorn carefully removed Kitra's drenched outer layers, their fingers clumsy from the cold. Alana rummaged through Kitra's pack and found a dry tunic and leggings. With gentle motions, they redressed Kitra, taking care not to jostle her too much.
As Alana fastened the last button on the tunic, her eyes fell upon the scars that marred Kitra's skin - remnants of past battles and hardships. A lump formed in her throat as she recalled Boromir's callous words. How could he be so cruel, so ignorant of the strength it took to bear such marks?
Aragorn must have sensed her distress, for he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "She will be alright," he assured Alana softly.
Alana nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. "I know. But it pains me to see her hurting, to have her past thrown in her face like that."
Aragorn's eyes were filled with understanding. "Boromir spoke out of ignorance and fear. The Ring's influence grows stronger each day, preying on our weaknesses. We must be vigilant and support one another."
Alana sighed heavily. "You're right. I just wish I could shield her from all of this. The world is too cruel to her sometimes."
"As do I," Aragorn admitted, as he swept Kitra into his arms, bringing her over by the fire.
Alana gently brushed a strand of hair from Kitra's face, her heart aching for her cousin's pain. She had always admired Kitra's strength and resilience, but seeing her so vulnerable now made Alana's protective instincts flare to life.
With Aragorn's help, she carefully wrapped Kitra in a warm blanket and settled her near the fire. Pippin, scurried over with a steaming mug of tea, his eyes wide with concern.
"Will she be alright?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Alana managed a reassuring smile. "She will, Pippin. Thank you for the tea."
As Pippin hurried back to the others, Alana sat beside Kitra, keeping a watchful eye over her slumbering form. Aragorn shifted so he was huddled next to her, hoping to share his body heat with her.
Alana sat beside their sleeping forms, her heart heavy with worry and anger. The confrontation with Boromir had shaken her, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of protectiveness towards her cousin. Kitra had been through so much already, and to have her past pain thrown in her face like that was unforgivable.
As the night wore on, Alana kept a vigilant watch over Kitra, occasionally adjusting the blanket or checking her forehead for signs of fever. Aragorn remained close by, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the turmoil. The rest of the Fellowship settled in for a restless night, the events of the day weighing heavily on their minds.
Boromir sat apart from the group, his jaw still throbbing from Kitra's punch. Shame and regret churned in his gut as he replayed the harsh words he had spoken. He had let his frustration and the Ring's influence get the better of him, lashing out at Kitra in a moment of weakness. The sight of her collapsing, the pain etched on her face, haunted him.
He glanced over at Alana, who sat protectively beside Kitra and Aragorn. The anger in her eyes when she had confronted him still burned in his memory. He knew he had crossed a line, and the weight of his actions hung heavily upon his shoulders.
Slowly, Boromir rose to his feet and made his way over to Alana. She tensed as Boromir approached, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. Her hand hovered over the hilt of her sword, ready to defend Kitra if necessary. Boromir held up his hands in a gesture of peace, his expression contrite.
"Alana, I come to apologize," he began, his voice low and sincere. "My words to Kitra were unforgivable. I let my frustration and the Ring's influence cloud my judgment. I am deeply sorry for the pain I have caused."
Alana studied him for a long moment, searching his face for any sign of deceit. But she found only genuine remorse and shame in his eyes. Slowly, she relaxed her grip on her sword and nodded.
"Your apology is noted, Boromir," she said coolly. "But it is not me you should be apologizing to."
"I know," Boromir said solemnly. "I will apologize to Kitra as soon as she wakes."
Alana sighed. "Kitra is strong and compassionate, but your words cut deep." Boromir nodded, his gaze falling to the ground. As Boromir turned to leave, Alana called out softly. "Boromir, wait." He paused, looking back at her with questioning eyes.
Alana sighed, her expression softening slightly. "I know the Ring's influence is growing stronger," she said, her voice tinged with understanding. "It preys on our fears and weaknesses. But we must fight against it, Boromir. We cannot let it divide us or cloud our judgment."
"It calls to me." He admitted.