My Lord Arathorn... It's a Girl!

Argaladiel (aka Notes From A 400lb Nuzgûl)

7. Snippet 2

"Hullo, Mistress Kingsfoil," came the cheery voice from the doorway that heralded Boromir's first company since the start of this peculiar combination of imprisonment and convalescence. He looked up from where he was working on repairing the scabbard of his sword. The voice came from one of the halflings he had occasionally observed from the windows of the suite of rooms.

"Hullo, Pippin," came the voice of the woman he knew only as Estel. "Have you been enjoying yourself?"

"Well, sort of. It's a lot better here now that Frodo is all well again, and it's always fun listening to Bilbo's stories and poems. But I do miss the Shire now and again. It'd be nice to talk to someone who was interested in things other than books sometimes. I feel as though I'm going to fall asleep when Frodo and Bilbo and Merry get talking sometimes."

There was the sound of her chuckle. It was, as he had noticed several times in the past week, a very deep, rich sound. "I think I may be able to help you out, young Master Took," came the woman's voice. "Go through into the next room. The person in there is desperately in need of company."

There was a sound of bare feet pattering on the paved floor of the outer room, then a knock on the doorframe. Boromir looked around, to be confronted by another halfling. This one appeared to be different to the three he'd seen in the council, from what he could recall, although there were some similarities. Like the other two, he was short and slender, with hairy feet and curly hair. However, this halfling had hair of an almost coppery red. Boromir could remember once having seen a cat with hair that colour, skulking around the halls of the citadel. He had been a child of seven at the time, and he had tried to follow the cat on its comings and goings, but it had always eluded him. He could remember Faramir finding him as well, and following along. There was also the memory of how furious he had felt when Faramir had proved better at tracking the cat than he had, despite his brother's younger age.

All of these memories flashed through his mind in a second, before the young halfling had fully entered the room.

"Hullo," the halfling said. "I'm Peregrin Took, son of Paladin. What's your name?"

The open friendliness of the visitor brought a smile to Boromir's face. "My name is Boromir of Gondor, Master Peregrin."

"Where's Gondor?" The question was artless, innocent. Boromir looked at the halfling in suprise. Surely everyone knew where Gondor was?

"Gondor is far to the south and east, Master Peregrin. I travelled many leagues, and many days, to reach this place from Minas Tirith."

"So Gondor is your city?"

"No, the city is Minas Tirith. Gondor is my land."

"Oh, so it's like the difference between Tuckborough and the Shire? I see!" The halfling's face was alight with interest.

"Now I must confess myself lost, Master Peregrin. Where is this 'Shire' you speak of?"

Boromir nearly laughed to see the expression on the youngster's face. Then he did laugh, realising what he must have looked like scant moments before, when he had been asked where Gondor was. The halfling looked affronted.

"What're you laughing at?" he asked.

"I beg your pardon, Master Peregrin," Boromir said, still chuckling, "but I was realising just how I must have looked when you asked me of the location of Gondor."

"What do you mean?" The tone was curious. Boromir decided not to try and explain in words, but instead pulled an exaggerated version of the way that the halfling's face had looked. This drew a giggle from his companion.

"Did I really look like that?" Peregrin asked. Boromir nodded.

"Indeed you did, Master Peregrin. And I?"

A mischievous grin crossed the face of the youngster, who then pulled a face which looked almost uncannily like that of one of the cats which haunted the lower levels of the House of the Stewards, when caught unawares doing something which looked undignified - a combination of affronted dignity, absolute poise, and utter outrage that someone should be doing something so ungracious as looking. This made Boromir roar with laughter.

[Where from here? I've no idea.]

This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

In Challenges

Story Information

Author: Meg Thornton

Status: Beta

Completion: Work in Progress

Rating: Adult

Last Updated: 04/27/03

Original Post: 01/15/03

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