38. Into the Wild

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"She was also, by the standards of other people, lost

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"She was also, by the standards of
other people, lost. She would not see it
like that. She knew where she was,
it was just that everywhere else didn't."

― Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

38. Into the Wild

Boromir snored gently, and the comforting sound mixed with a more foreboding one: Drums. Drums in the night. Not from the orc island, but from the forest behind their hiding place.

Nellas knew she ought to wake him, but could not bring herself to do it. She did not want him to worry.

Maybe she could borrow his sword, slip out and kill the drummer, and anyone else with him? Assuming they were enemies and not allies, of course. She could ambush them from the trees.

But then Boromir would wake up alone, and worry even more. No, they must stay together.

She reached up to his cheek, feeling the interesting, coarse hairs of his beard under her palm. "Boromir," she whispered. She loved saying his name, loved how the r:s rolled over her tongue. Boromir. He had a beautiful name.

He was moving in his sleep, still not awake.

She followed his cheekbone with her fingertip until she reached his ear. That was interesting too; round rather than pointed like her own. She traced its contours, and then down along his broad neck. "Boromir," she whispered again.

His eyes fluttered open; her own eyes had become enough accustomed to the darkness that she could see it.

"Anything wrong?" he murmured.

"Maybe." She touched the warm skin in the hollow above his collarbone, and continued along his shoulder.

He covered her exploring hand with his bandaged one, holding it still before she could slip it under the hem of his tunic. "Can you elaborate?" He sounded a bit hoarse, and his heart had begun to beat faster. With her ear so close to his chest, Nellas noticed it clearly.

"It's probably nothing," she murmured loftily. Apparently he could not hear the drums with his human senses – and now they sounded farther away, at that. Maybe they would go away by themselves? She almost regretted waking him.

"It was something," he insisted. His hand was warm on top of hers.

Using his shoulder as support, Nellas drew herself up into a sitting position, until her face was level with his. "Did you sleep well?" she asked, trying to change the topic.

"I– Uh. I guess so." He removed her hand from his shoulder and sat up straighter too, increasing the distance between them. "And you?"

Nellas was disappointed. "Why do you move away?"

"Oh. I just– It is not... That is to say, we should be careful not to..." He broke off.

"Not to what?"

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