The importance of telling the plot to kindly fuck itself

by DistinguishedDwarfFriend

Summary:

When Larping gets a little too real, Alice is chased by NPC-orcs right from her convention into Middle Earth, meeting a tall, dark and handsome stranger she has mooned over since her teenage years.

Yeay, heartbreak and horrible hygiene, let's go!

Notes:

This is my contribution to 2024's Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang, and my first time participating in any kind of fandom event (so I'm kinda nervous!).

It has been inspired by Erathene's BEAUTIFUL, AMAZING art Number #88 from the Gallery!
( am STILL TRYING to add it as a cover-art!)

I saw it and was like "Ooooh, Aragorn, DIBS!"

Erathene, I hope I did you justice, and may this bring you joy, even in difficult times. ❤️

 

Please enjoy!

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

 

"Madam?” 

The sun was shining into her eyes, much brighter than she was used to. 

A soft breeze was tangling her hair that was partly crusted with blood, her heart was still hammering from the run, and her head still spinning from the long and deep fall. She should have really studied the terrain a little better, that drop had come out of nowhere!

 

“Madam, can you hear me? Are you hurt?”

 

Slowly the voices registered in her mind, and she tried to blink her eyes to focus her vision. 

 

In front of her was a group of people,men, mostly, causing automatic alarm within her; 

 

‘Alone with a group of men, not good!’ 

 

She tried to rise, shifting her weight and resting on her elbows, subtly looking around to check the perimeter, watching for easy routes of escape, but no such luck.

 

 She was surrounded by wilderness, empty plains of a pale yellow grass, that clearly had not seen rain for quite a time, there were almost no trees, only some dead brushes, and the occasional hill dotted with moss and leeches. To one side rose a huge mountain range, the tops disappearing in heavy clouds. 

 

Now, she would never claim to be an expert in Geography, but this was not Kansas anymore!

(Or Oregon, if you wanted to go into specifics.)

The forest where the LARP convention had mostly taken place was just gone. 

 

 Was she dead?

Had the fall killed her?

 

 She could be, but the throbbing pain in her head belied that assumption, plus, she doubted that in whatever After-Life her mind would make up she would be surrounded by this many male strangers, with not a single woman or any kind of civilization in view. 

 

Realizing that she would be unable to flee to whatever safety they might be behind the horizon, (for the men would surely be able keep up with her weak constitution, and easily spot her, too, if she ran over the empty planes,) she turned back to whoever had spoken to her. 

 

A man in his forties with a short, gruffy beard and dark, shoulder-long hair was looking at her with worried, but at the same time assessing grey eyes.

He was kind of handsome, in that rugged way.

He was also wearing armor that was way too realistic. No-one in the community would ever be able to afford something beautiful like this:

Honest-to-God ranger- armor, with leathers and steel and buckles and all that jazz.

 

Were the place less alien, and the stranger's armor less, well, realistic, she would have assumed to still be somewhere on the convention-site.

Because everyone was still dressed like it was the middle ages, so that checked out. 

 

She mindlessly fiddled to re-attach her fake beard that must have come undone during all the running-from-orc-NPCs that she had done before… whatever this was.

Someone exclaimed in outrage, just when she spotted an indicator to what was happening at last.

 

Because great, sure, why the fuck not?!

Just there behind tall-dark-and-handsome, who was still trying to speak with her, was grey-bearded, hat-wearing, mother-fucking Gandalf! Gandalf!

 

Wonderful!

 

Hallucination was back on the table of possible scenarios, fun times, she must have hit her head harder than she had feared.

 Thoughtlessly, she tried to feel if the wound on the back of her head was still bleeding, and her hand came away wet with blood. 

 

“Aww, crap!” she whispered, before she passed out. 

 

 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

As she re-awoke, she was still in this strange medieval afterlife-hallucination-thing, however, she must have been moved.

They were now in a small glade with mostly dead or dying trees, a fire was crackling merrily in front of her, and she had been wrapped in a scratchy blanket.

 

The strangers, no wait, the fucking FELLOWSHIP, were still surrounding her, or rather, they were surrounding the fire, but when she tried to ask if they could maybe back off a little, only a croak emerged. She was absolutely parched.

Within seconds, a small person appeared to her left, offering a wooden cup that was filled with what looked like water.

Now, she could have been mistrustful, but, well, she probably was either dead already, or close to it and in a coma with fandom-hallucinations on top, plus, she could not disappoint those puppy-eyes, so she just decided to believe that these people were real for now, the water was not poisoned, and that she was not hallucinating 

 

“Thanks”, she said weakly when she had finished the water, and the small person with the curly golden hair smiled shyly back at her, taking the cup and disappearing just as quitely as he'd come.

Oh, right, hobbits. Sam, possibly? The sun had disappeared by now, so she could not tell for sure.

 

Biggest-of-the-BAMFs Gandalf was right in front of her, and apparently deciding that she was lucid enough for interrogation, he straightened, and the man next to him, who could be no other than Aragon-fucking-king-of-Gondor, started to speak:

 

“Are you feeling better, my lady?”

Wow, the voice was just like she remembered, sending excited shivers down her spine.

She nodded, her head throbbing at the motion, but she tried to not let it show.

 

“I think so”, she added, gaze switching between Aragorn and Gandalf.

 

Gandalf then spoke, his voice soft despite the probably centuries of inhaling pipe smoke.

 

“Good to hear, good to hear!

Then maybe an introduction would be appropriate, no? “

His eyes were twinkling kindly, but behind that they were steel, she knew that.

 

“Sure, I'm Alice.”

 

She figured it was better to say as little as possible for the time being, at least until she had a chance to catch Gandalf alone and ask him what the fuck she was supposed to do here.

And never before had she found her name to be so fitting, even though this was quite a different kind of Wonderland.

Notes:

.... I love italics, can you tell? 😅

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

“...Fuck the timeline, fuck the plot, fuck Tolkien and fuck this dark, black, dirty, fucking hole!”

 

Alice hat started with muttering under her breath, but now was outright cursing while stumbling again in the darkness, unable to see the ground, or really anything more than one meter away.

Even the outline of Gimli in front of her was blurry, and it was he that she was following, gaze firmly fixed on his back and scared shitless to lose her guide in this endless void of doom.

 

Dramatic, her? Nah.

 

 

She wanted to go home, she wanted her bed, and her cats, and a hot chocolate with a shot of whiskey, and she wanted her cuddle pillow, and she wanted some damn toilet paper, and her memory foam mattress, and she hated everything!

 

All those Modern-Girl-in-Middle-Earth-fics seemed completely ridiculous in their easy journey-descriptions, now that she was confronted with the harsh reality.

 

The most noticeable reality was the smell.

The fellowship stank to high heavens, her included, and she hated the sticky feeling of sweat and dust drying on her skin in what must be at least the fifth layer or dirt.

 

It had been weeks since the last bathing opportunity.

Oh well, maybe you could call the wetness of mountain winter something approaching a wash, and she had used hands full of snow to at least clean her face and neck.

But when you slept and walked in the same clothes for weeks on end, well.

She would have expected for the smell to fade into the background with time, her senses adjusting ,but no such luck. 

She must have been too spoiled by a society possessing always readily-available bathing-faculties.

 

This place, though? 

 

Yuck.

 

Even the attractiveness of certain members of the Fellowship did not change the urge to stay as far away from them as possible, because not even the elf was spared the indignity of developing a certain odor, though it had taken him much longer to grow ripe. Rude.

 

 

 

Gimli, still in front of her, had chuckled at her cursing in the beginning, unbothered by how she was badmouthing a lost home of his people. 

 Now, he waited for her to catch up with him and took her arm, helping her to continue on and stumbling at least a little less often.

 

“Well lass, the last time I heard someone cursing like that, it was the lady Dis, ripping into her brother for trying to reclaim our mountain.”

 

Alice snorted. “I will take that as a compliment of the highest kind”, she grumbled with poorly concealed pride at the comparison.

The lady Dis was after all quite the legend in the fandom .

 

“Ah, so she too was in those books of yours?”, Gimli asked with a smile on his voice.

 

That had been all the Fellowship had been told. That she came from a different world (a fact impossible to hide once the contents of her seasack had been discovered), where the stories of Middle Earth had been told. However, they did not know, that their story as well was foretold, and assumed that both timeline aligned insofar, that their present was hers as well, resulting in her only knowing Middle Earth's history up to that point, or rather, up to the end of the quest for Erebor.

 

“She was mentioned, but, well, as I told you, many many people read the books, and then make up their own stories about what could have been, and Lady Dis became quite famous that way. You know, in an unmoving, always-there, motherly-but-fearless pillar-of-strength kind.”

 

 Gimli nodded.

 “That's rather the accurate description”, he agreed, “but she did inherit the Durin-temper, and could be quite the absent mother, too, now that I think of it. Especially little Kili had to suffer from it at times.”

 

Throughout the journey, the Dwarf had offered Alice little tit-bits and stories about The Company of Thorin Oakenshield, a 'safe' topic, and relatively long in the past.

Both had delighted in the exchange of stories that actually were and stories that had been told.

 

They had gotten over the initial enmity between them, caused by her wearing a fake beard, a huge offense in Gimli's eyes. After quite a while of her explaining the whole society of fandoms, and how it was more a way of appreciation instead of making fun of his culture, Gimli had let go of his outrage, and once he understood how in awe Alice and her kind were of his people, his chest had swelled with pride. 

 

It had then taken less than two days for him to invite her to Erebor, ‘once this huge mess is finally dealt with’. 

 

 

Alice had of course accepted, because she still refused to think about the logistics of how she had gotten here, how long she would be allowed to stay, if she was actually dead, what would happen to her once the main story was finished, and so on.

Or the fact that she had no place to belong in this world.

 

She was aggressively ignoring all kinds of thoughts that related to that particular uncertainty, instead trying to adapt to her mother's go-with-the-flow attitude, because if she really was dead, then whatever will be, will be. 

 

 

 

“Cease your chatter!”, came the gruff voice of Gandalf, who had stopped in front of three familiar looking arches.

Ah right, the place where he didn't remember the way.

Unfortunately, in the movies it never was shown which way the company took after all. She thought it might be the middle way, but could not be certain, and anyway, Gandalf had fiercely forbidden her from sharing any of her for-knowledge:

 

“You said the enemy is defeated in your story.

Changing even the smallest detail of that course may result in a catastrophe.

We are better off not knowing, all of us!”

 

Alice had argued heavily that she must have been brought here for a reason, that if the Valar were involved, for example, (which was entirely possible, because hey, in this world, gods were a real and proven thing, and Gandalf had fucking met them, which she still couldn't wrap her head around, anyhow,) then she was probably supposed to change things!

 

 Gandalf, however, would not hear of it, and since he was Gandalf, and millennia old, and something like a half-god, she had capitulated.

 

Funnily enough, none of the fellowship had had a problem with adding her to their numbers, because they all knew that was no real viable alternative. 

The only sensible decision was for Alice to join them, and not only because of the way of her arrival just in their path. The usual typical bickering by Boromir and Gimli, that was so loved in the fanfictions Alice knew, had been entirely skipped.

These were all either excited Hobbits or seasoned Warriors who all knew to to work with a certain detached focus.

 

Alice would have loved to spare herself and them the Cold of Cahadras, but again, she had been banned from speaking, so now she was not only stumbling through darkness constantly hitting her toes, she was also sniffing with a slight cold and constant headache.

 

She really hated her life right now, just a little bit

 

 

When the fellowship settled in front of the three arches, Gandalf mumbling to himself about ‘last time’ and ‘this way, blah blah’,

 Alice looked for the part of the ground that would be maybe the softest, as in 'not purely stone', which turned out to be a senseless endeavor, no wondrous patch of softer dirt appeared.

 But trying still made her feel better, busy, and once she gave up and picked a place at random, she stripped down to only her tunic and leggings, trying to build herself anything approaching of a softer-than-stone resting place with the discarded clothes. 

 

She resolutely ignored the shocked gasp of Legolas and the subtil glances from Aragorn and Boromir, as well as the giggling from the hobbits. 

Fuck them, it was not like she was hanging around in her underwear, which would be a complete whole new shock to them, she thought, thinking of her bra and panties.

Well, if there was still anything left of those panties.

 

She settled with her pack in front of her, the pack being what she had prepared in her sack for the convention, not really appropriate for a long journey. 

The rest of the fellowship had offered her anything they had a spare of, be it a second cloak, or some socks, or a second water skin.

 

She took a gulp of the latter now, careful to only drink a little. The skin was half-full, still, but had to last until they emerged on the other side of the mountain range.

 

And wasn't that going to be fun!

Alice knew exactly what awaited them, and she was absolutely terrified, not only of the fight that was waiting them in the chamber of Mazarbul, because the only fighting she knew was drunk armwrestling and throwing pillows (maybe she would be able to hide inside Balin's coffin?),

no, after that would come the fiery demon of Middle Earth’s own hell, the dark angel personified, with a whip and fire and everything she hated, and then the whole shit-ton of running.

 

And while Alice had been indeed running when she landed in this mess, her constitution was basically non-existant, and nowhere near fitting for the following parkour through a fucking mine of darkness, down stairs that would crumble beneath their feet, and over the thinnest-fucking bridge there ever was, of which the construction-work still made her question the sanity of the dwarves of Khazad-Dum. 

Because seriously, no railings?! 

The bridge in the movie had already given her the heebie-jeebies, and she would rather crawl on all fours, tightly gripping to the edges, instead of running at full speed over that tiny Path of Horror.

 

Then, right after Gandalf checked out until movie number two, that would be followed by running from arrow-shooting orcs, and she still did not understand how none of the company had been shot in the movies during that particular piece of fun, talk about plot-amor, something that Alice did not have!

 

And since all that would of course not be enough cardio, they would run again to the woods of Lothlorien, though at least then she would be running towards something instead of away from it for a change.

 

Oh, she could not wait for the elves and fucking Galadriel! Alice would have drooled at the thought, if she had any liquids in her body left for such a thing.

 

And maybe, hopefully, the elven goddess would be able to tell Gandalf that yes, Alice had been brought here by the gods to change shit, thank you very much! Because if she was forced to let Boromir die again, they would have to physically restrain her.

Except Galadriel would of course tell Gandalf none of that, because the wizard would be busy falling into the abyss, killing a demon, dying & being reborn on a random mountain-top. 

 

Splendid.

 

Good thing she was not panicking or anything, nope sir!

 

She would be fine and reach the Golden Wood in one piece, and there she would finally get some answers and proper gear.

 

In the books, what remained of the Fellowship stayed for weeks in Lothlorien, while in the movies it seems like only one night, and Alice really really hoped this was the book-version.

 

Which would also mean a lot more time for the river-journey, until the ultimate point-of-no-return, where she would have to make the decision if she would even try to change something, and then see if she could, and no matter if she succeeded or not, after that there would be more goddamn running. 

 

Because no matter what, unfortunately the hobbits had to be caught, and the fellowship had to split, she knew that much and wouldn't dare to change such a huge aspect in the story.

 

So then, the three, or maybe four of five hunters would be forced to follow Things One and Two, and the resulting days and days of running made her almost cry at the thought.

 

 

So yes, Alice was absolutely fine, and totally well-adjusted, and not panicking at all, and her nails were just scraped by circumstance, no no, she had not been biting them until they were bleeding, not at all!

 

She had also not noticed just that her lip was bleeding from chewing on it so much, until a careful hand grasped her face, and then a thumb touched her lower lip to stop her from mangling it further.

 

Alice startled from her brooding, and looked up into the gray worried eyes of the future king of Gondor, teenage-crush and content of way-too-many self-insert fanfictions she had once written.

Of course the ranger would be even more handsome in reality, and of course she had to fall for the real person just as hard as she once had for the character.

Alright, falling for him was saying a little much, but he definitely had made her swoon once or twice already.

 

Aragon now sat down on his knees in front of her.

“Here”, he whispered, and offered her a surprisingly clean handkerchief.

She took it and dabbed at the blood on her lips, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

 

She usually was never lost for words, never, she was a little chatterbox, but this man right here returned her into the shy, insecure and stammering teenager that Alice had been when she first saw him opening those fucking double doors of Helms Deep.

 

“Thanks” she managed to whisper back, and gave a smile that hopefully didn't look too much like a grimace.

 Aragon quirked his lips and settled down properly.

 

“You are not the only one to be worried by the circumstance, Lady Alice”, he said.

 

“I know”, Alice said, finding her voice again and half-successfully shaking off her nerves .

 

“I know, and I should really get it together, but this place - I just really do not like being underground, which is funny because I always wanted to visit the dwarven Kingdoms of Middle Earth, but you know, I wanted to do so when they were actually populated, and there was light everywhere, and the air tunnels would be open, and the air were therefore fresh, and I did not feel like I was suffocating all the time-”, and she stopped herself.

Of course she had to blab away like a frightened child, stupid. 

 

But Aragon only chuckled, looking almost relieved to have her to listen to.

 

“I have to admit that this is indeed a rather disappointing journey regarding sights to see”,

he agreed with a dry humor she had never noticed nor expected.

 

In books as well the movies he had always only seemed to be so serious, but naturally, that was the part of his personality that was important for the plot, his determination, inner struggle and sacrificing nature, so it made sense that other nuances would be mostly omitted in his portrayal.

She liked it, this person that she was slowly getting to know better.

 

“Exactly! I'm thoroughly disappointed! This is not what I came for, I expected much more!”, she continued the joke in a snobbish voice, raising her nose into the air.

 

“And it pains me deeply to disappoint my Lady, but please, enlighten me to what would have been more pleasing?”Aragorn asked, and Alice settled in to tell him about all the places in Middle Earth she would be excited to see, if the choice was hers.

 

So they sat in the endless darkness of Moria, huddled together, talking the time (and fear) away.

 

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Summary:

An Interlude & POV-change

“There is no greater gift I can give you than that which you already possess”,  Galadriel told him, touching the Jewel still hanging from Aragon's neck. It had grown heavier and heavier with each day of the journey, each day of his feelings growing more confused, evolving, shifting. 

He could read the question in her eyes, and knew that he had to give an answer. Had to give it now.

 

Shaking hands unclasped the necklace, and he felt a weight lifting from his shoulders, breathing freely for the first time in weeks, unaware that he had been shackled.

 

He lay the Evenstar into Galadriel’s hands, knowing that Arwen’s grandmother would see it returned safely.

 Aragorn then looked back into her eyes.

 

 "I can and will not ask her to stay, not when my heart is no longer certain. I cannot keep this."

 

He could not help but glance over to the river, where the rest of the fellowship was boarding the boats, his gaze resting maybe a second longer on one certain member.

 

Galadriel nodded “Yes”, she said, offering a smile filled with kindness that he had not expected, not after what he had just renounced.

 

“Your choice is different than it once may have been. But then, many things have changed, and are about to change, and all that remains, the one eternal constant, is change itself, is it not?” Her smile was now almost teasing, and a new kind of weariness grew within his stomach seeing it, little birds fluttering within his chest.

 

“I think your heart is certain”, were Galadriel's parting words to him.

 

“Yes”, he said, his eyes now completely resting on Lady Alice. “I suppose it is”. 

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Alice had been quite in a good mood since their arrival in Lothlorien, and for most of the journey down the Anduin.

 As she had hoped, the Elven Queen had given her some answers.

Oh, she had done nothing like actually telling her what to do, but had also not forbidden her from sharing what she knew.

Speaking with Galadriel was almost like talking to a therapist, the Lady’s questions and random observations leading one to their own conclusion, discovering your own way and truth.

 It had shown Alice that the choice was hers, and only hers.

 

And so she had chosen.

 

In the weeks that the fellowship rested in Lothlorien, she had made a point of getting to know each of them.

 

 Legolas and Gimli were well in the beginnings of an epic friendship, and it was great fun to watch them bicker.

The hobbits were excited and merry, walking around with wide eyes, trying whatever fruit of mushroom they could get their hands on, and raiding the kitchens on a nightly basis, Sam awing even millennia-old elves with his shire recipes.

 

Aragon and her had spoken a lot.

He had shown her around, and Alice had forgotten that apparently he had spent quite some time in his young adult years in the Golden Wood.

He knew that she despised being underground, disliked feeling caved in, that she needed the open sky to feel properly at home, so she had brought her to the crest of a hill where the wood formed a  wide clearing, and they basked underneath the winter sun for hours, talking until the setting sun set the wood alight with golden fire. 

 

Alice felt that she was the one who Aragorn spent most of his time with.

Throughout their stay, he was alternating between every fellowship member, each day he spoke with and trained them, but in the evenings, or any free hours like after lunch or before breakfast, he would search her out, consistently kindling that stupid spark of hope that was growing in her belly that was tearing at her heartstrings, telling her that ‘maybe maybe…’!

 

But she knew that those hopes were foolish, knew about Arwen, and that she could never compete with the Evenstar.

And she would learn to deal with this, with the sharp pain tearing through her whenever Aragon sent her a smile, always following right after the initial warm feeling he caused in her.

 

 Lastly, she had gotten to know Boromir.

 To say it was an eye-opening experience would be an understatement, the Captain of Gondor was decidedly not the twisted person blinded by hopelessness, grief and greed that the movies had painted.

He was funny, kind and in no way sexist, quite the opposite, and Alice had grown angry at the wrongful be portrayal of him to be chauvinist in so many fanfictions.

 Boromir had even attempted to teach her how to fight, even though that had been quite the disaster, but at least in hand-to-hand-combat she was not at a complete loss, so they had focused on that.

 And while he had apologized for each bruise he caused her, he also did not handle her with baby gloves. 

They had even gotten drunk together twice, telling each other silly stories about childhood and friends, and he reminded her so much of her best friends at home that the first real wave of homesickness since arriving had hit her, hard.

Boromir had held her while she cried, distracting her with tales of Gondor and his home, and promising that she would never be alone as long as he lived.

 

And exactly that was the point when she made her decision.

 

She would save Boromir, or attempt to.

 

She had to, no matter the cost.

She would figure something out.

 

She would also probably have to develop a way to use her knowledge without letting on too much, and it was obvious that she had to speak to Aragon for that to work.

She just did not know how to start that conversation.

 

‘Hey, so by the way, I know your life story and all that's going to happen, I also know that one of us is going to die and I am not such a big fan of that, want to help me avoid it?’

 

 Yep, it was bound to be a disaster.

 Alice again felt the urge to throw some of the tiny rocks covering the riverside into the water, but knew that Golum was following them, and that anyway too many dangerous things in the night could be made aware of their presence that way.

Instead she took a little stick and drew in the sand, sometimes ramming it deep into the soil in frustration.

 

 

“Why is it, that every time I find you, you are weighed down by worry?”, came the soft voice of Aragorn from behind her. 

 

Alice no longer startled when he appeared out of nowhere, having gotten used to his silent ranger feet.

 

“Because that's my natural start of being, perhaps?”

She tried for a laugh, but it fell flat.

Instead, she was close to crying, because even though the uncertainty of if she was allowed to change the course of the story was gone, it had been now replaced with a fear of not being able to change any fates. 

Not only Boromir she wanted to save, also Theoden, and as many unnamed lives as possible.

 

Aragon sat down close to her, closer than usual, and laid an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side.

 

“Every time I see those heavy thoughts surrounding you, I wish I could take them away”, he spoke, gazing out on the water.

 

Alice’s heart beat rapidly in her chest, and she tried to keep it cool, but could not help the shivering his touched caused.

 

“I wish I could share your burdens”, he continued,  “just a little. I know you cannot tell me everything, that you have not told us even a speck of what you have told Gandalf.

I am not Gandalf. 

I'm not that wise, nor do I have all the answers.

But I have to lead this company now, and I feel as lost as you sometimes look.”

 

He turned his face back to her.

“You need not hide your secrets... not from me.”

At that, he caught her eyes with his, and the earnest look in them scared her. He looked at her like he would look at an equal, someone he would look for advice to, someone whom he trusted completely.

 

And the tiny part in her heart grew and ignited , screaming ‘maybe! maybe!’ louder and louder.

 

 Alice averted her eyes, and stopped short.

 

Each evening, the men divested themselves of most of their armor. Aragon was just in his tunic, the rest discarded somewhere, and beneath the open ties by his neck - there was no necklace.

 

No Evenstar.

 

Alice sharply sucked in a gulp of air, she felt like she had been sucker-punched.

 

“What is it?”

 

Aragon immediately began to look around, expecting danger.

 

“Nothing”.

 

Alice was transfixed on the sight of his bare neck.

 

'Maybe, MAYBE!!!!!'

 

“Alice?”, he took her hands between his, and made her look up to him.

 

“I can't…”, she started, but he shook his head, gripping her hands tighter.

 

“Then do not tell me everything, but tell me what troubles you most. Only tell me that you have secrets even, anything to lighten the burden upon your shoulders!

I would carry it all for you, if I could.”

 

He raised his hand and smoothed out the crease of worry between her eyes.

 

“Your necklace”, she whispered.

“Did you lose it?”

 

He frowned and looked down for a second, as if to remind himself what she was even speaking of.

 

“Oh, no”,he said, his laugh almost awkward.

“I returned it.”

 

 

She raised her eyes back to his, warmth engulfing her like a blanket of joy, of hope.

But still…

 

“Boromir is going to die.”

 

Her lower lip began to tremble , the tears building in her eyes those of happiness and desperation alike.

“And I don't know how to stop it.”

 

 Aragorn only smiled weakly.

“So I was right. You know all of our stories.”

Alice nodded.

“I do. And I'm scared.”

 

At that, he pulled her in, hugging her close to his chests.

 

“That I am, too. 

But you are not alone, not anymore.

 I will keep your secrets, whatever you may tell me, just as I will do all I can to keep you and Boromir safe.

We will find a way. I promise.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

.... And that was it - for now!

I have much more in my notes, deleted scenes and plans fro movies 2&3, but had to catch the deadline for posting, plus what I have in mind would take QUITE the time, so this is what I can offer you at the moment.

I don't know when I will post the (much longer) sequel, since I am kinda taking a hiatus in Hogwarts ATM, time will tell.

(Does anyone even want more)*Hides*