Of Dwarves and Men {Boromir/LOTR}

Chapter 19: Turning up in the Rohirrim camps

Chapter 19:

Turning up in the Rohirrim camps

The next day is as rough as mornings go, not just for myself, but for the entirety of the Fellowship. Aragorn looks like he drank the entirety of Mirkwood's wines last night, with his dark circles giving him the look of a hangover. Gimli has just that, though I sincerely question where he found the alcohol in the middle of Rohan. Legolas is more chatty today than ever before, a tell-tale sign that something is either going right or wrong. It may have something to do with Ruelin, seeing as she cannot stop smiling at this time and it's getting on my last nerve. Then there's Frerin who looks lost in his thoughts of home, a strange yet heartbreaking expression for my typically-joyful brother. In my case, I am simply disgruntled because Boromir will not stop teasing me about being a "snuggler," and thus, he is upset since I won't talk to him.

But as times of trouble go, we have little time to pity ourselves, galloping off on our horses with the early morning daybreak to the East. Given the irritable Fellowship, we ride in separate bands of people, keeping to ourselves if given the chance. Seeing as I am with the man of Gondor upon Casper, my new horse, I have little ability to ignore him, especially with his incessant questioning.

"We won't have to follow dwarven courting, now will we?" Boromir asks, on a whim that characterizes his every word. I scoff at this notion, falling into laughter a short while afterward. It is easily the silliest question for the dwarven royalty, and yet, Boromir is not one of us. And thus, in his mind, dwarven courting could always be a possibility.

"Of course not, at least if I have a say," I respond, shaking my head at the mere idea of this. Sure, if I ended up courting a dwarf, I'd have him braid my hair in the typical courting fashion. However, Boromir is far from dwarven kind, and I will not demand this of him, nevermind the crazier regulations of dwarven tradition.

"Your parents won't demand it?" he asks in response, his head tilting to look at me as he sits behind my form.

"My parents broke two-thirds of the dwarven courting rules...so no, they won't," I tell him, turning around to send him a smirk as he gapes. Indeed, it is a humorous notion than the rulers of the Lonely Mountain broke two-thirds of their own rules. But then again, these laws are hard not to break.

"You can't be serious! What'd they do?" he raves, looking beyond curious, and therefore, showing his own true colors.

"Didn't exchange courting gifts, rode together on a horse before marriage," I list off, sending a pointed look at our current position. "My father didn't hunt for her, slept together before marriage, went--"

"Woah, woah! They hmm-ed before marriage?!" he questions in heightened tone. I can only assume his meaning behind "hmm" and cringe away at the notion. Why are we talking about this? Awkward is definitely an understatement.

"Ya. They'd been together for nearly a year and my mother's kind-of irresistible," I respond warily, feeling a need to reply but feeling tense in doing so. Only naturally, Frerin takes this time to approach our singular form on the horse, his smirk returned to its proper position on his face.

"Boromir would know that from the Council," Frerin reminds, not teasing me for once. At his words, I let out a large bark of laughter, harmonizing with Boromir's groan of annoyance.

"I do apologize for that...I don't know what I was thinking," he responds, looking towards me rather than towards my brother. I just shake my head, knowing better than to be angry with him. We weren't together at the time (we actually hated each other), and thus, I have no words against his actions.