Chapter 27:

I've fallen and I can't get up

Removed from the shadows once more, Boromir and I pace the room in continued conversations with soldiers, leaders, and Fellowship members. Currently, Legolas, Ruelin, and Gimli are partaking in a drinking contest that Gimli is convinced he will win. Upon hearing this, I scoff loudly, seeing as elves (even half) have a remarkable ability to drink large amounts of alcohol with little effect on their mental state. And thus, the trio is on their fifteenth glass, Gimli practically tipping while Ruelin and Legolas chat calmly. Oh, how I adore this family of mine.

Looking towards the head of the room, it would take a near blind human to not see the antics of the two hobbits and my brother. Moments ago, they were merely tipsy, but now they are full on drunk. It is probably at fault of the large glasses of ale within their hands, almost half full at this moment. But this drunkenness is little fact in comparison to the loud and rough song they sing:

Oh, you can search - up and down

As many lands as can be found

But you'll never find a beer so brown

As the one we drink in our home town

You can keep your fancy ales

You can drink them by the flagon

But the only brew, for the brave and true,

Comes from the Green Dragon!

The three rambunctious, overgrown children laugh at the cessation of the song, attempting to give each other pats on the back, but missing and hitting each others heads instead. I cannot help in laughing loudly at the scene, though no one notices over the loud atmosphere of the Golden Hall. A bright smile covers my face, cheek-to-cheek, and only growing as Ruelin comes to stand at my side. She takes a look at my intoxicated brother, rolling her eyes and yet smiling all the same.

"Your brother is such a dork, Sidel," Ruelin remarks, pointing at the overgrown dwarfling who is now doing handstands on the high topped table. I smile lovingly at my brother, feeling a deep protective instinct within my heart. Frerin may be older and smarter than me, but he will always have the heart of a child. In this way, he is practically my younger brother.

"But a happy one...let him have this night of celebration. He may not show it, but this journey's been hard on him. He misses Erebor, family...and Bren," I remark, looking back upon the few moments where I caught Frerin frowning. On most occasions, this dwarf is a ball of sunshine and smiles. However, one cannot help in feeling melancholy on occasions. Frerin has a lot to lose in this war, and thus, it is extremely hard on his emotional state.
"Come on sis!" Frerin exclaims, finally recognizing my presence as he pulls me up on the table. And though I am tempted to hop back down, I smile kindly at my brother and begin to jig at his side. The men around us clap at our synced dancing, tossing ale into the air with each toast of a mug. It is a jolly scene, but a dangerous one at that as ale spills all over the table. And therefore, it is not all that surprising when I slip on the liquid, tipping over the edge and to a future, slight injury. But as my life now rolls, Boromir catches me from my fall, sending me a contemptuous look as I giggle softly.

"Fancy seeing you here," I remark with a sly grin, prompting him to shake his head. With my form still in his arms, Boromir paces away from the table, Frerin not even recognizing my renewed absence from his side. I know that my brother can take care of himself, even in a drunken state, and thus I relinquish myself into the arms of my One.

"You ought to be more careful. If anything were to happen to you, I'd never forgive myself," Boromir remarks as he sits me on a smaller table near the middle of the room. I swing my legs over the side, moving my hands to play with the strings on his tunic while he just watches me play childishly.

"Sweet words," I respond, leaning my face upward for a kiss, though not quite making the distance due to my smaller stature and the fact that I am trapped on the table in front of Boromir. He laughs softly at my attempt, finalizing the distance and leaving a chaste kiss on my mouth.

"Heh--hehe," I hear someone giggle, prompting me to rotate my head around to look upon my brother, sitting in a chair near my side. I furrow my eyebrows at the sight, wondering how in the world he found us so fast. But then again, Frerin is observant, even when he is intoxicated.

"What's wrong with you? I mean, other than the ordinary," Ruelin questions, breaking through the crowds of humanity to address the four of us.

"Ouch, cuz," Frerin responds, holding a hand over his heart as if he truly cares what others think of him. We are dwarves, after all, and have little concern for the criticism of others. Surely, if we did care, Gimli would be a different person.

"Spit it out," I growl, eyes squinted as the two of them are truly starting to get on my nerves. Ruelin looks annoyed with my own irritation, mirroring my expression, whereas Frerin looks unaffected.

"It's just, Del, you're kind of a cougar," Frerin remarks with a cheeky grin that I should know better than to question. But at the same time, I am a curious dwarf and it is better to deal with this comment now rather than later.

"A what?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at the strange terminology. Why would Frerin call me a predatory animal that lives in the White Mountains? Am I missing something or is he really just an idiot?

"A woman who courts younger men...like Boromir," Frerin responds, reasoning why he has a cheeky smile on his face. My happy mood dramatically falls at this reference, my eyes hardening at my brother and cousin, who laugh loudly at this mention.

"I'll kill you," I remark, jaw tightened as I send a look that would surely kill Sauron. If anything, this only makes Frerin all the more happy at his discovery, smirk transfiguring into a large smile.

"Wait, how old are you, Si?" Boromir asks, drawing my attention back to the man of Gondor. I smile slightly at the small nickname, pulling tighter on the tassle that laces around my hand and pulling Boromir between my legs to the same extent.

"Aww nicknames!" Ruelin gushes, prompting me to send her a hardened glance as she cackles like Saruman.

"Fifty-five," I finally answer, revolving my eyes around to rest my gaze upon the surprised Boromir. Surely, we shared our ages earlier on in this journey, but I doubt any of us soaked up the age difference at that time. You can say that I'm now regretting that.

"And you're thirty three, Boromir?" Frerin asks, fully enamoured in this embarrassing conversation. My brother enjoys making fun of me at all times, and therefore, any ammunition he can get against me he will take wholeheartedly.

"Yes..." Boromir responds uneasily, his eyes avoiding mine as I stare at him in worry. What if he no longer desires my company because of my older age? What if I really am a cougar?...But worrying is for little reason, as Boromir returns his gaze to my own with a silly comment in tow: "Good thing I like my women mature."

"You mean experienced?" Frerin quips cheekily, prompting me to growl angrily. Twisting around in my seat, I take notice of a stale roll of bread on the table behind me. Grabbing at it quickly, I send it flying at my brother's head, hitting him dead on with a heavy thunk. "Ow!"

"Probably doesn't hurt that she looks no older than twenty-five," Ruelin remarks to Boromir as Frerin and I exchange heated glances. Relinquishing my gaze at his new pain, and therefore my victory, I watch for Boromir's response.

"That too," Boromir responds, once again, leaving a soft kiss on my cheek before lifting me off the table and placing me on the ground. I send him a soft smile before pacing away from the others (to little extent, seeing as they follow me) and towards the conversing Gandalf and Aragorn. They nod their heads at us as we huddle around them, knowing this conversation references our duties as the Fellowship.

"No news of Frodo?" Aragorn asks, looking slightly desperate for any news. It would be a great relief to hear of his travels, or at least the fact that he still lives. For all we know, Frodo, Sam, and Cashel could be dead and the Ring may be waiting for Sauron, somewhere in the wilderness.

"No word ... nothing," Gandalf hopelessly sighs into the words, his face aging with the concern he has for Frodo. I know that this wizard truly blames himself for the Fellowship's splitting, although we all had an equal play in this. It was bound to occur at some point, seeing that all of us could not have gone into Mordor. It would have drawn too much attention.

"And Cashel?" Aragorn asks, turning to me in reference to his question. Usually, Phoenicians have the ability to feel the pain of other people they love, to some smaller yet perceivable extent. However, as we move closer to Mordor, all our instincts are slipping away at the growing size of Sauron over these lands.

"Not even a twinge...Sauron is masking our Phoenician instincts," I tell Aragorn, prompting Gandalf to nod in agreement. Gandalf is a Phoenician after all, and would have been able to feel Frodo's pain if not for Sauron's power.

"We still have time," Aragorn hopefully remarks, juxtaposed to the negative words of Gandalf. And in reference to the wizard, he whips around at Aragorn's words, sending him a disgruntled look. But before Gandalf can say anything, Aragorn continues: "Every day Frodo moves closer to Mordor."
"Do we know that?" Gandalf asks, looking for help within the eyes and words of our second leader. I smile at the sight, watching as Aragorn develops into the king he was intended to be. This journey has made him into a man of great valour and respect, and I can think of no other man that I would call king, even Boromir.

"What does your heart tell you?" Aragorn softly reassures through a question. This is a heartwarming sight that awakens my senses even in this time of great evil. I feel warmth within my lungs and breath within my heart. The trio still lives, of this I am sure.

"That Frodo is alive," Gandalf recognizes with a small smile. Taking a deep breath as he moves closer to his heart. "Yes - yes, he is alive."

"How is it that the Grey Wizard, in all his experience and knowledge, has come to lay so heavily on a should-be king?" Ruelin questions humorously, a small smile lacing her features as we watch the two companions in awe. And though she seems to be questioning the two males of our group, I take to responding for them.

"Knowledge is sometimes the most hope-devoid and fear-ridden aspect of existence...we're better off without it, and set with just our instinct and heart," I tell her, turning around with a nod at my friends and a reassuring check that Frerin is still standing. Moving from the room, I take little notice of the following Boromir as I move towards my new chamber in the eastern wing of the hall.

"Where are you going?" Boromir asks, prompting me to whip around in surprise. Realizing it's just him, stuck near our typical sleeping quarters, I roll my eyes at his predictability and my ignorance. Why am I surprised to see him when he rarely leaves my side?

"To sleep. It's been a tiring day," I remark through a yawn. Boromir still looks confused at this idea, pointing into the room in which we previously slept. I cannot help in chuckling at him, as he looks beyond lost in this moment. But I have a heart, and therefore, go about appeasing his confusion. "Eowyn gave me a proper room earlier. I'm heading there now."

"Sounds splendid," he answers with a nod, grabbing my hand as he pulls me in the direction I was just moving towards. Finally recognizing his thoughts, I press my heels into the ground, effectively stopping his progression towards my room.

"I never said you could come with me," I remark, raising an eyebrow as I cross my arms. The man looks slightly hurt at my words, eyes widening in the slightest of bits.

"Oh, I just assumed--" he mumbles, turning back around and heading towards our previous quarters. However, I release a sigh at my inner pain of his leaving. And although I am very stubborn, I relinquish this for the sake of my love for the man and his desire to be with me.

Running towards my room, I remove the dress and jewelry from my figure in great time. Splashing water on my face, I take no time to shower, seeing as I did just hours ago. Instead, I grab some baggy trousers and an oversized tunic from the wardrobe, slipping them on before moving back out into the hallway. My feet make a slight pattering noise as I move into my previous sleeping quarters, eyes adjusting to see a tossing Boromir. I sigh slightly before moving towards the sight and sliding gracefully into the covers. Boromir flips around at this motion, a smile coming to cover his face as I return to his side. His arms do not hesitate in slipping around my waist pulling me into his chest before his lips leave a soft kiss on my mouth.

Mumbling, "I love yous" between our mouths, our hearts slow to the beat of a metronome, taking peace in the slowed time of this hour.

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Hello readers!  I hope you enjoyed this chapter!  I've been receiving great feedback on this story for the past few days, and thus, I want to thank you.  Without your support, I would surely not be writing right now.  And I am overjoyed that you like my story!

I hope you are all having wonderful weekends and holiday seasons!

Please vote and comment!

xo

Patagonian

PS: I'll be posting the next chapter within two day's time