Chapter 16: Steal Away

In the end, Boromir was put in Liam's room at the top of the tower for safekeeping. We didn't exactly have a dungeon and after Anahera's joke, I utterly refused to have him even on the same floor as my room.

Unfortunately that didn't stop the jokes. It only made them worse, if anything.

"So, any plans for while we're gone?" Electra asked saucily while she saddled her favorite horse.

"Fuck you," I told her and handed her the bridle.

"I know I'm hot, but he's not related to us," Electra pointed out.

"Ugh," I muttered, giving her the stink eye, "You're so gross." Still I gave her a hug goodbye and moved to where Aunt Libby showed Freckles and Speckles a few items of clothing.

"Is that even within the rules?" I asked her but made no move to stop her.

"They never said we couldn't use the hunting dogs," she replied with a grin, "We would if it were a real kidnapping, so why not?"

"Right." I wasn't quite sure about that, but had no room to argue.

Once the dogs got an idea of what to do, Aunt Libby handed me the clothing: Andy's favorite top, Mackey's cashmere scarf she had arrived in Middle Earth wearing, and one of Dezzie's socks. The sock was buried in the rest of the laundry while I frowned at Mackey's scarf. "She's gone too?" I asked, running the luxurious cashmere between my fingers.

"Mackey and Matt," Aunt Libby confirmed, "Looks more and more like they had an inside man."

I scowled at the concept, but at the same time I couldn't help but admire the men's planning.

"You know what to do, right?" Aunt Libby asked as she checked the buckles around her excited horse.

"Keep an eye on Stevie and Beornraed's arms, make sure Boromir doesn't escape. Or at least not cleanly," I replied. The idea of a rematch made me grin in anticipation.

Giving me a stern look, Aunt Libby then rolled her eyes. "Just don't maim him too badly," she instructed.

Thoughtlessly I held the horse's reins while my aunt mounted. I stroked the mare's soft nose and neck, whispering to her, "Fly like the wind."

All too soon they all trotted from the stable: Aunt Libby, Anahera, Electra, Liam, and Madhav. The atmosphere was jovial despite the task at hand; we knew the Rohirrim would never hurt our people and the result would be the same either way. This was simply a game that allowed posturing in front of our new relatives to be.

Pitaajee smiled and waved them off, a shovel in his other hand for stable cleaning. "You think they will make it in time?" he asked me, somewhat worried.

These were the Rohirrim, the horse-masters of the continent; no one could beat them in a race. But they had to slow slightly for extra passengers and Matt's lesser experience on a horse. "I think they have a chance," I answered.

Hugging Pitaajee, I left so that we could each get to our own work. Him in his chosen area of the stables and horses, me in the house where the wounded and the prisoner were.

In the main room Gran, Grandpa, and Beornraed chatted merrily while the corgis kept Aaron and Rangi from getting too close to the fire. I smiled at each of them on my way to the medical ward.

"'Lo?" Stevie grunted in the half-light when I opened the door.

My heart sprang into my throat with relief and joy. "Stevie! How do you feel?" I asked and immediately poured him a cup of water.

With his remaining hand he massaged his throat. "Parched," he rasped out.

It was more than a little awkward to move him into a sitting position; he kept trying to use his right arm to push himself up only to remember late that there was less of it than he remembered. But once he was upright against the headboard, he downed the glass of water as quickly as I'd let him. "Cass," he whined when I took the cup from him.

"Give me a mo' to refill it," I told him as I did just that. At the same time I poked my head out the door to call, "Stevie's awake! Is there any porridge left?"

At the good news, Gran perked up immediately. "Don't you worry, I'll make up some soup right now," she said cheerily and got to work in our smallest pot.

Aditi glanced up from her conversation with Beornraed but I waved her off. They looked engrossed and I could handle Stevie.

When I looked back, Stevie was staring in horror at his bandaged stump. "My hand. What happened to my hand?" he questioned the wound hysterically.

"Your forearm was too badly mangled by the accident," I answered cautiously, "I had to amputate it to save your life."

Breathing heavily, whether it was from pain or distress, Stevie barely whispered, "How am I going to play the violin now?"

My heart broke for him. Throughout the winter he had entertained us by playing the songs he knew and making others up on a violin he had purchased in Edoras last year, and he was quite good. It was one of his true loves beside Anahera, Rangi, and flying; now of them he had only his wife and son.

"Just saying, we've been talking prosthetics, and Mackey might have a few ideas," I told him bracingly, adding with a roll of my eyes, "If we ever get her back."

"Back from where?" Stevie asked, distracted from his misery.

I chuckled upon realizing that so much had happened just in the couple days he was out cold, and began to explain. Our guest, our prisoner, and the little game we were playing with the Rohirrim all visibly startled him, on top of my very presence since I had been on the trading route when his accident happened. "What is it with you and the people in charge of Gondor?" he asked, hopefully hypothetically, between bites of the soup Gran had whipped up.

Obtusely I shrugged at him. "What is it with them being dickbags?" I asked in return.

Much like his mother, he rolled his eyes at me. "Was it really a good idea for them to leave you to watch him, considering?" he pointed out.

No, it probably wasn't. "Speaking of him, I should probably make sure he's still up there," I said with a smirk, "Bring him some of that lovely soup." To Stevie I added, "You're welcome to get up if you feel like it, but take it easy. And keep that arm clean." I gave his bandaged stump a warning glare before I left.

When I mentioned our more reluctant guest, Gran kindly put a tray together for him. Soup, slices of crusty bread, an apple, and a pitcher of water balanced precariously as I made my way up the several flights of stairs as I wondered what the hell was going on. Were we going to take Boromir with us to the wedding in Edoras, or would he ride off once those three days were up?

At the top of the tower I knocked, and only opened the door when he answered. "Got something for you to eat," I told him and set the tray on a bedside table beside where he sat on the straw bed.

He nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you," he murmured simply.

"You're very welcome. Is there anything else you need?" I asked to be polite. Hopefully not; we didn't exactly have much.

"When will I be released?" Boromir asked immediately.

Frowning, I calculated the days. "The day after tomorrow," I told him, "When you can't get to the chase in time to play a part."

His lips pursed as he nodded again. "Right. That's all, thank you," he murmured in a clear dismissal. Dude must have been trying to figure out how to manage when the news of his capture by a bunch of yokels got out.

I tossed him a peace sign and let myself out, thinking happily of my patient's recovery rather than the man brooding in the tower. That was a bit of a mistake.

Boromir was incensed with himself. He was the Captain-General of Gondor! The foremost soldier in his homeland! How could he have let himself fail, because of a woman?

She hadn't exactly been womanly, he remembered with a scoff. What do women usually do when seized by an unknown person? Scream and struggle to get away. What does this madwoman do? Punch him in the face! And keep hitting him!

The mere memory had Boromir delicately rub his hands against the points she had dug into in his shoulders. Even through his thick garments it had hurt and left his arms feeling indescribably weakened.

It was why he had taken them to his best field unarmed- wrestling. And this way would have been easier to subdue her unharmed, even if she had pulled his hair. In the end he won (of course) but she had cost him too much time.

So now his friend and two others had their brides, but he was taken in their raid. What would happen with this? It hadn't even been seen as a possibility, so no plan was in place.

Well, he knew what would happen when his father inevitably found out. (How Father would find out about this, Boromir hadn't the foggiest, but the Steward often seemed to know much more than he should.) Reprimands would fly. He would probably be restricted from ever coming to Rohan or Tharbad again. Ever more training to 'return to shape' though he hadn't lost any shape.

Faramir would never cease teasing him, and neither would Theodred or Eomer.

There had to be some way to rescue himself from this humiliation.

Right as Boromir was about to begin planning, there was a knock on the door. "Come in," he called.

It was the same woman as before, the one who had delayed him and insulted his father. The one with the scars on her face. Cressie or Cassie? Either way she held a plate of venison, roasted vegetables, a few slices of dark dense bread with a pat of butter, and a crumbly strawberry and apple tart. He may be a prisoner, but at least they fed him well.

"Dinner for our esteemed guest," she said half mockingly as she set the tray down. There was no ill will in her, however.

"Thank you." A question burned Boromir and he just had to ask, "Who taught you to fight?"

She paused at the door and looked over her shoulder. "I was in the military at home." Her eyes were far away and wistful, a smile curling the unaffected side of her lips. Then she shook her head and that smile turned rueful. "How did I do?" She had to be teasing.

"You delayed and captured me, which is more than impressive," Boromir said, thinking back to their little wrestling match, "I do not think that we truly have the measure of each other yet, however."

She hummed with thought, playing with the scarred corner of her lips.

"There will be a tournament. Perhaps we can test each other again there," Boromir suggested, something that he would never dream of saying to a Gondorian woman. He was beginning to accept that she was far from what he grew up with, however.

That was confirmed when she grinned gleefully.

"CASS!" the grandmother hollered up the stairs.

"YEAH?" Cass bellowed back down.

"TESTING!" was the answer.

With a fond, exasperated smile, Cass shook her head at nothing. Why was her face pink when she looked at Boromir afterward? "Looking forward to it," she told him firmly. She left without fanfare or sound.

However, when she left, Boromir noticed something about the door. There was a simple turn latch on the inside, which he turned. Fully expecting resistance, he very gently pulled the wooden handle-

It opened.

Gaping at the door of his cell, he discovered that there was only a small handle on the outside and no lock. He'd been free to leave at any time.

No, Boromir would never live this down.

At first I struggled to understand what woke me. The night was calm and the usual animal noises were around, so what was wrong?

Creak.

My first thought was an intruder, but then I remembered our prisoner. He wouldn't know which boards squeaked.

It looked like Aunt Libby's security feature was coming in handy, if not in the way she expected.

I hurried into my clothes to follow Boromir, not caring which set I wore. On the way out the door I grabbed a long knife and put it on my belt. I'd never use it on him, but there may be a chase; I may need to eat or defend myself.

Without even thinking about it I avoided the musical floorboards on the way down, a level above Boromir at all times. When he stopped on the ground floor, I crouched behind the railing and peeked between the carvings.

He was getting his weapons. The sword belt was strapped on and then the dagger, but took several minutes to find his horn. Only then did he throw his shield over his shoulder and open the door.

The dogs proved that they were in no way good guard dogs, by only making small sounds that were more begging for pats than warnings. Or perhaps he didn't register as a threat. Or perhaps they realized that half of their number were corgis, and therefore worse than useless in a fight.

I could have screamed and gotten everybody up to deal with this, but honestly, this wasn't worth the heart attack. That we even took Boromir hostage was an enormous point in our favor. He wouldn't be able to get to the others in time to make a difference.

It was my pride that made me pull my boots, jacket, and cloak on, then march out into the night.

Unsurprisingly he had used his time in the tower well; the path he took was a beeline to the stables. Amused at his bravery, I watched him choose a bay mare and then swear his way through putting all the equipment together. I could do it with my eyes closed from memory, and he was going to leave on a horse no matter what, but it was funny to hear him curse and struggle.

Boromir had just persuaded the horse out into the street when I stepped forward. "Not going to say goodbye?" I teased.

With searching eyes, he assessed me.

One moment I was standing on my own feet. The next I was tossed with shameful ease over the horse's back. I barely had time to process that before Boromir was suddenly in the saddle and urging the horse forward at a canter.

"Um, what are you doing?" I demanded, clutching tightly to the edge of the saddle. If I tried slipping off to the side, I'd just get trampled.

"I don't need you alerting the whole town," Boromir told me sternly. Since it only took moments to get out of the ruins, he was already at the edge of the grassland and gaining speed.

"Like last time?" I reminded him while I tried twisting away from the saddle horn. It had hit my side and that throbbed enough to make breathing hard. Even if I wanted to, there was no way I could scream now.

The waned moon allowed me only the broad details of his frown. "Yes," he admitted grudgingly. A few encouraging words and a sharp dig of the heel had Blitzen practically fly south like her namesake.

I clutched the saddle in a white knuckled grip during the long gallup, feeling very sorry for all the meat cutlets I'd tenderized under the saddle over this year. It had been safe enough to get down when we were still in the city, I scolded myself while the wind chilled my face. I should have wriggled off the hose and ran for it then.

The moon was quite a bit lower when Boromir asked, "Would you rather ride behind me?"

There were so, so many jokes that I itched to make. For once though, I was rational when it came to the people in charge of Gondor. "That would be nice," I wheezed.

By the time Blitzen trotted to a stop it felt like we were in the middle of nowhere, and the only reasonable thing to do was stick together. There was no way in hell I was walking home; not at night, with only a knife, where wolves roam. While I was sure that Boromir could survive out here by himself, it was too dickish even for me to take the horse and leave him to walk back to Edoras. He wouldn't return to Tharbad, so I would be his saddlebag going forward.

For the sake of my clothing I had to wait to slide down until Boromir dismounted. If I arrived in Edoras with torn clothes after a long ride alone with a man, there would be a near riot at the implications.

We took the chance to stretch and adjust our clothing, and not quite miraculously the saddle bags were full of provisions for us to have a snack out of. (Bless Gran's foresight.) All too soon Boromir decided it was time to ride again, and I had to awkwardly climb into the high-backed saddle with him.

Suddenly, I was very thankful to be riding behind him. Neither of us needed a boner incident.

"Where are we headed?" I asked, leaning back almost casually.

"The plan was to meet at the Ford of Isen, but we may be too late for that," Boromir said, "I have to try." He snapped the reins, bounced the inside of his boot off Blitzen's side, and we were back at a gallop.

Riding a horse is nothing like riding a motorcycle, but one basic tenant still applies: everyone starts clutching the driver for dear life, and ends leaning back with hands on their own thighs thinking, "If I die because of you, I'm gonna haunt you." It was my first time on horseback without control of the reins and I decided quickly that I didn't like it.

Plus, the motion of the horse kept bumping me into Boromir until I finally leaned forward against him and watched what I could see of the countryside fly by. Since I didn't particularly need to pay attention to anything, I pondered. Would we manage to catch up to even my relatives? Finding the Rohirrim would be a downright miracle, enough that I didn't even count it as a possibility.

What was he going to say about his face? Mostly his beard covered the bruise on his jaw and Aditi had quickly judged that his nose wasn't broken, at least. He had been well enough to eat even the slightly chewy meat, so I had some hope that he wouldn't gut me.

For a few more hours we sped through the countryside south, before even Boromir admitted he had to rest. Beside a little brook not far from the road was as good a place to rest as any; he, the horse, and I all set to drinking the moment we knew we were alone. Not much supply for camping had been in the bags, just food and water, but I was fine with sleeping under the stars in just my outerwear.

Besides, Blitzen was a cuddler. She sank down beside me the moment she had drank and fed enough for her tastes, resting her broad side against my back.

"You know what's hilarious about this?" I asked Boromir sleepily. The pink-orange glow of sunrise began to filter through my eyelashes.

"Must you rub it in?" Boromir muttered.

"I wasn't actually going to scream. I was just teasing before I was going to point you at the road," I told him, snickering.

There was a noise of flesh smacking flesh from Blitzen's other side.

"Night," I said automatically and wriggled to adjust my arm better under my head.

"Good night."