Of Dwarves and Men {Boromir/LOTR}

Chapter 29: I don't have ADD

Chapter 29:

"I don't have ADD--"

"Oh look!"

"Is that a Palantir?!"

I think I would have died of embarrassment if I had to return to Boromir's arms to sleep later that night. But as good luck shows its face on rare occasions, I am saved by the tense emotions of our recent tribulations (or Pippin's at that), eyes clinging to the very few hours of sleep that I received. Of course, the Fellowship is the only company to stay awake upon these early hours, the Rohirrim tucked tightly into bed. And thus, it is a waiting game for Theoden to awake and Gandalf to reveal the news of the night's revelations. Speaking of the wizard, he has gone missing with the hobbit, to no one's surprise.

Although I am not to return to bed with Boromir at this time, I rush to my temporary chambers and adorn myself in the least revealing clothes that I own. Surely, this awkward encounter has scarred me away from large tunics and fur coats, not that it's my ordinary apparel. All that same, I dress in a high-necked tunic that is form-fitting, flowing down to my mid-thighs in a emerald-cotton fabric. It brushes the navy blue trousers I slip on, tucked into my original black boots. My hair pulled into a high ponytail, I am ready to start the day even before the sun has risen.

And thus, I find myself sitting upon the dusty grass outside the Golden Hall, silence enveloping my ears in the deep breaths of the earth. My eyes shut close as I take deep breaths, a form of meditation unique only to myself. You would think, with the trials of this Fellowship, that I'd be reminiscing on our journey. But at the same time, I am constantly doing just this, choosing to, instead, meditate on the peace surrounding this morning's rise.

Merry brings all this peace to an end, as only a hobbit can. Indeed, the ignorance of these folk allows them to settle into another's private time, usually in the worst of moments. But I cannot blame them for their inborn traits, and I will surely not criticize Merry for his intended friendliness.

And it could be a lot worse. The hobbit simply plops down at my side, brushing against my arm and prompting me to wrap it around his shoulders. With his head leaned into my shoulder, I doubt I've ever seen the hobbit as relaxed as he is right now. However, at a closer look, I notice the dreariness of his condition, bags swollen purple beneath his eyes and red rimming the typically-happy orbs. He looks like he has overcome the world in one night, and yet, I do not think I can deny this notion. Middle Earth simply rests on our shoulders.

"It's like he doesn't know what he's doing...he just acts before he thinks, even when I'm yelling at him to stop," Merry remarks, his eyes saddening in reference to his greatest friend and practical brother, Pippin.

"We all have our flaws, Merry. And as annoying and meddlesome as they might be, we must accept our family for who they are," I respond, turning to look at him with my bright blue eyes.

"You think of us as family?" he asks, his shoulders perking up at this strange and surprising notion for his ears.

"Of course. How could I not? We've practically lived with each other for these past months," I reply, a smirk present on my face. He beams at this, his head turning down like it always does when he's thinking. The silence that laps at us does not last long, Merry's mind blooming in the colorful creativity that marks Shirefolk.

"If this is to be a family, we need proper roles," Merry remarks, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and thought.

"What do you mean?"
"Well. for example, Pippin would surely be the hyperactive child of the family," Merry says, prompting me to fall into laughter. Indeed, this is a fitting role for the mischievous hobbit.