Cat of the Fellowship // Legolas x OC, Boromir x OC

38. Into the Wild

He took her hand again, bringing it to his lips. "It is...complicated to explain." He broke eye-contact. "I am a bit confused about– Well, this whole, uh...thing between us. And now is not really the best time to, uh, think about...such matters."

She smiled at his obvious embarrassment. He admitted there was something between them then; that was a start, at least.

After a few awkward minutes, Nellas heard the drums again, a lot closer now.

Hissing, Boromir sprang to attention, scrabbling after his sword. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes."

"It could be the orcs coming ashore. Damn. We should have hid further from the river."

"No. It comes from the forest."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. My ears don't lie." She smiled.

"I doubt the orcs have gotten that far yet," Boromir mused, relaxing slightly. "They would have to finish conquering the island first. But either way, we must check what it is."

Preparing to leave the fir tent was quick work; they had lost their packs, and thus could not even have breakfast. Soon they were making their way through the thick underbrush and into the even more compact darkness of the wild forest.

As they walked, Nellas looked around appreciatively. Here was life everywhere, and she let her mind roam freely, greeting the old, wise trees as well as their younger friends, and all the animals and birds inhabiting them. At this hour mostly the small rodents were awake.

Boromir was less pleased. The drumbeat kept moving, sounding sometimes close, sometimes further away, and he seemed frustrated that he could not find its source as easily as he had expected. It did not take long until he began to grumble and curse under his breath.

"Shall I ask directions?" Nellas offered.

"I am not lost," he muttered sourly.

Not heeding to his words, she reached out to a nearby owl who kindly agreed to help. When the bird swooped down in front of them on pale, silent wings, Nellas took Boromir's hand. "This way."

Not long afterwards the couple stepped out into a glade that was lit by many lanterns in the trees. It was full of surprised, lightly clad humans.

"See?" Nellas smirked. "You should trust me."

He squeezed her hand, smiling excitedly. "The Woses of the Woods! I didn't know there were any left. The wild men are not unfriendly to my people, or at least in the past they weren't."

Several of the wild men came closer, slowly and cautiously. Their skirts of grass looked much too cold for the season, but Nellas appreciated seeing their intricately tattooed and muscular torsos.

Boromir held out his empty hands to show his friendly intent and began speaking in Westron, which was a language Nellas understood but didn't like to speak.

At his words, the men led him and Nellas into the glade, where a very old man sat on the ground. The others bowed reverently, before gesturing for Boromir to sit in front of him.

Boromir and the old man spoke for a long time. Nellas meanwhile sat on a nearby log, sadly stroking the rough surface. It had been cut down on purpose.

After a while, she was approached by some women, who regarded her with curiosity. Like the men they wore only skirts, and she hoped Boromir would not notice that. She figured bare breasts were probably among the things that would make him uncomfortable.

One of the women asked her something in her own language.

Ignoring her, Nellas looked at Boromir. Was he finished soon?