Sing Me Good-bye

“Now, what did you mean when you said you have no origin?” Boromir asks. He sits so close to you that your knees are nearly touching. You are tempted to move a smidgen closer, but barely resist.

By the time he had come back the bedrolls had been laid out and Legolas and Aragon caught and skinned five rabbits.

You feel Aragorn studying the two of you as he cooks the rabbits. Hell, it seems like everyone is glancing at the two of you. ‘Must be because they haven’t seen a female for a while,’ you think.

“I’m an orphan,” you answer. You stare at the fire and feel coldness take over you as you remember your past. “Serine was a 14-year-old drug addict who died having me. Steve was a washed up alcoholic who raped her during a drunken rampage. I was born in Virginia, but I’ve been to nearly every state because Social Services couldn’t find a place they thought was ‘right for me.’” You shrug your shoulders to distract the others from looking at your eyes which are filled with tears. “I’ve never had a true sense of belonging anywhere because of it. Every place I’ve been to has been a home, but none have managed to stay that way.”

Boromir wraps an arm around you. He pulls you in so you are hip to hip. You lean against his shoulder and soak in his warmth.

“So who named you Turquoise?” Gandalf asks.

“The nurse who helped deliver me,” you answer. You smile. “She named me after the color of my eyes.”

“But you have blue eyes,” Pip says. Sam groans. Merry chuckles and pats Pip on the back. Pip looks at you and you can’t help but feel affection for the little hobbit. “You do have blue eyes, right?”

“Yes, I do. Turquoise is a more specific form of blue,” you say.

He smiles. His attention strays from you the second Aragorn places a plate in his hands. The hobbits wolf down their food in a matter of seconds while the rest of you take your time.

To your surprise, Boromir doesn’t inhale his food. He eats in a way that shows you he was taught proper etiquette as a child. The same goes for Aragorn and Legolas. Gimli, however, takes after the hobbits and digs in.

You can’t resist doing the same as the small ones. You haven’t eaten all day and you are famished.

“Careful or you’ll choke,” Boromir teases.

“Just because I don’t eat as slow as you doesn’t mean I can’t handle it,” you say. He chuckles.

“Don’t listen to him. He usually gulps his down with the best of them,” Legolas says. “He’s just trying to impress you.”

“Well you got the ‘impress’ part right,” you say. You nudge Boromir’s shoulder. “What are you, royalty or something?”

Boromir nearly drops his plate. Aragorn clears his throat. Legolas looks away. Gandalf watches you and Boromir like he’s studying a civilization he’s never seen before.

“No,” Boromir answers slowly. His cheeks are flushed and you can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it.

Ah well, an eye for an eye. You were honest about your life, he can be about his.

“Then where did you learn all of the manners from?” you press.

Boromir sighs. He pushes his plate to the side and stares into the fire. There are shadows on his face, reminding you of the handsome villain in a twisted horror movie. His face is decorated with premature wrinkles. You have a feeling his face is usually serious like this. You wonder what hardships he has seen to make him look a decade older.

You are about to fuss at him for ignoring you when he says; “My father is the ruler of Gondor, but he is not the king. It is said the true king will rise again some day and take his rightful place at the thrown of Gondor.

“So your dad is babysitting a kingdom until the true king comes back,” you say. Aragorn gasps at your bluntness and Legolas smirks. Boromir’s jaw clenches, a sign you said the wrong thing. “Fine by me, I don’t think I could stand it if you were a prince.”

“Really?” You can hear the curiosity in his voice. “And why is that?”

“Because most of them are snobbish brats.”

Legolas stops smirking. “Hey! I’m a prince!”

“My point exactly,” you say. Boromir laughs. His laugh is warm and gives you a tingling sensation in your stomach. You like seeing Boromir laughing; he seems much younger and full of life when he does.

“Then for that, Lady Turquoise, I am glad my father is a babysitter,” he says.

“Enough with the lady stuff, it makes me feel prissy. Call me Turquoise,” you say.

“Why wouldn’t he? That is your name,” Pip says.

“Pip, stop being stupid,” Sam snaps.

“What? It’s true!” Pip scoots away from Sam. “Beside, I like that name, it reminds me of a turtle I had once. Do you remember him, Merry?”

“Snappy the turtle. I remember when you took him to the tavern with us. Sam nearly sat on him.” Merry smiles at the memory.

“What happened?” you ask.

“Snappy bit his bottom. Sam spilled his drink all over Rose,” Pip answers. He leans in and whispers; “He fancies her.”

“Shut-up Pip,” Sam warns. He blushes and refuses to meet your gaze.

“Why haven’t you asked her out on a date?” you ask.

Sam immediately stands and collects the plates. “I’ll wash them tonight,” he says.

When he reaches for yours, you grab his hand. “You realize you’ll never know how she feels until you say something. She’s probably just as shy as you are about admitting her feelings. She might even think you don’t like her like that.”

“But I do!” he exclaims.

“Then show her. Next time you see her, comment on her looks, bring her a flower, do something that you wouldn’t do for anyone who isn’t special to you,” you advise. You let go of his hand. “You seem like someone who cares deeply about those he loves, show that side of you to her.”

Sam nods. He takes the rest of the plates and sits at the river bank. Frodo sits beside him and helps him clean the plates.

“Tell me,” Boromir says, attracting your attention once more, “does that bit of advice work for all females?”

“Yes,” you say.

You feel someone tap your shoulder. You look to see Pip standing beside you. He looks at the ground as he shuffles his feet, reminding you of a shy child. “Turquoise, would you like to hear more stories about Snappy?” he asks.

“I’d love to,” you say.

His head snaps up. His eyes sparkle and widen. “Really?”

“Of course.”

Pip waves to Merry. “Merry, come here. She wants to hear more stories,” he says. Merry hurries to Pip’s side.

“Well then, we’d better get comfortable.” Merry grins. The hobbits jump in your lap. To your surprise, they’re light. You feel eyes on you and see Boromir is starring at you. His eyes are warm and look at you in an unfamiliar way. What is he thinking?

Before you have the chance to ask, Pip and Merry launch into their series of stories about Snappy the turtle. They tell you how they found it abandoned in a pond and how Pip raised him under his bed. How it would purr if you pet it just right and it would bite anyone but Pip and Merry. By the last story, everyone in the fellowship has a grin on their (and your) face.

“Then, Snappy bit his toe, causing the mean old farmer to stumble. Merry and I got out of there with two sacks of potatoes-“

Merry adds; “Four cabbages-“

“Three heads of lettuce-“

“Ten carrots-“

“And a sack of mushrooms-“

“Mushrooms.” Merry eyes look dreamily into space. “Those mushrooms were the best ones we ever had.”

“I must admit, they were better stories than I thought,” Gandalf says. “But now it is time to sleep, we have a long journey ahead of us.” Slowly, he arises and shoos the hobbits to their bedrolls.

Aragorn glances at Boromir. “Are you taking first watch tonight?” he asks.

“I can watch all night,” he says.

You stare at him in disbelief. “That’s stupid,” you say. “You need sleep, especially if you’re walking all day.”

“She has a point,” Aragorn says.

Boromir looks down. “True, but I will not be able to sleep anyway. The ground is cold and uncomfortable,” he answers.

“Then share the bedroll with me,” you say. Boromir blushes.

Aragorn sputters; “It’s not proper!”

It takes you a moment to understand why they’re reacting the way they are. You feel your cheeks heat up. You smack Boromir’s chest. He doesn’t flinch while your hand stings. “Oh come off it! I didn’t mean it like that!” you huff. “I merely meant we can sleep in the same place, not-“ You blush. “Anyway, if you want to be immature about it then never mind!”

You brush past the two. You fling yourself onto Boromir’s bedroll.

“What’s wrong with you?” Legolas asks. His bedroll is only a few feet from you.

“Nothing,” you grumble.

“Liar.”

“So?” Your knees curl to your chest and you stare into the fire. You feel someone staring at your back.

Legolas glances at you and winks. “It seems our man’s man companion has somehow managed to anger you. What happened?”

Before you can stop yourself, you tell him the conversation that passed between Aragorn, Boromir, and yourself. Legolas chuckles.

“Men. They think everything revolves around sex,” he says. He stretches out his long legs as he lies down. “In Elven society, we share beds often without engaging in sexual activities.”

“It’s the same way at my old home,” you say. “I just wish they would grow up.”

He laughs. “They are men, they will never grow up and they will never learn.”

You smile. At least one male agrees with you. You hear someone walk to you from behind.

“Ah, have you come to make amends?” Legolas asks.

You look back and see Boromir staring at you. You roll your eyes. You turn back to the fire. You feel Boromir crouch beside you. His face is beside yours. “I apologize for taking your offer in a perverse manner. It was wrong of me.”

“Apology accepted. So, are you going to take the offer or not?”

You hear him take a deep breath. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” you say.

“Then yes,” he answers. “You should go to bed. I will try not to wake you when my watch is over.” He stands. He joins Gimli on a fallen tree to take watch with him.

“I guess I stand corrected,” Legolas says. “Some men do learn.”

You chuckle. “Goodnight Legolas,” you say.

“Goodnight Turquoise.”

You lay down. You sigh as you faintly smell Boromir’s scent. Before you know it, you are fast asleep-


Boromir’s eyes stare into yours. You pant as he caresses your breasts. You are sitting on his hips, enjoying the sensation of grinding against him. Your fingers grip his bare shoulders in pleasure.

His head drops. He takes a breast in his mouth. You moan. His tongue draws circles around your nipple before nibbling on it. His hand drops to your ass. He guides you to the ground. Your heart races when he kisses down your stomach-


“Wha-“ you croak. You are lying on your side. Boromir’s face is merely inches from yours as he tries to get comfortable.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay,” you mumble. Because you are half-asleep, you don’t hesitate to cuddle up to the beefcake lying beside you. You sigh happily. “’Night, Sweetie.” Again for the second time that night, you fall asleep.