Ghosts

[Bogwoppit]

West stepped through the stargate and stopped, P-90 raised to hip level and held loosely in both hands as he narrowed his eyes to look around this new world. Trees... surprise surprise. He blew out a laugh and stepped down onto short springy grass, taking in the surrounding area before turning to watch DJ come through. He was pleased the scientist was with them, the man knew his job and wasn't a geek like some of the non-military guys, although his social skills left a lot to be desired. And he was pleased to have drawn the short straw for once to get the research mission. He was tired, and a couple of weeks on a nice, quiet planet were just what he needed to get his head sorted.

That's if Thrace and the new guy, Lake, would let him get any peace that was. Already he knew he was going to get trouble from them, the air between them sizzled almost visibly whenever they were in the same room. To say that Thrace hated the captain would be the understatement of the century, and he had a notion the feeling would have been mutual if Lake could be bothered to feel that strong an emotion about anything.

"Okay?" he said to DJ as the lieutenant walked down the steps, various bags and devices hung around his person.

Hearing the subtle swish of the event horizon as the others stepped through he turned to face them, ignoring the mutinous expression on Thrace's face and glancing at Lake. That man looked too innocent for his own good, West was pretty damn certain that he was responsible for this latest mood of his second lieutenant's.

"Let's get this show on the road," he grinned.

[Pinkie]

No - she was not so sensitive to know what it was that Boromir was thinking. But she had noted long ago how similar they were to each other and so she assumed that if she were worried about Faramir that Boromir would also be. It was also obvious that he would be thinking of him because the two brothers were so close. Elendur had no desire to talk to Faramir, to coax him out of his misery. She had no skill in such things and when Boromir looked to convince her that she should talk to him, Elendur batted her eyelashes innocently.

Boromir said:

"I know, If I am honest I would say that I am avoiding him. I do not know what to say, for I have no notion of how he feels. You should speak to him, you... I will, "I will speak to him this evening before the festival. Perhaps I can persuade him to come along, no doubt he has other ideas which include such excitement as going to bed early with some weighty tome to while away the hours. And now I must go, These Orcs will not wait while I fritter away my time with you, sister."

Elendur did get the hint with the gloves. She unlinked her arm from Boromir's but stood around in front of him to stop him from getting away. When he laughed, Elendur smiled. A beautiful smile. The chimes in her hair tinkled softly as she shook her head ruefully, knowign that Boromir was probably right about Faramir. Btu she did hope he could convince the younger brother to attend the festival. Boromir bowed his head to her and turned to leave, Elendur watched him with her arms folded over her chest, a smile still brightening her features.

"Be careful!" she called after him, lifting her hand to wave her delicate fingers at him before turning and going back to her own room, thinking that the green dress nor the red would do for the festival. IT would have to be something much more eyecatchin than that.

[Pinkie]

Stupid bloody research mission!
Thrace's face could have scared an Unas into flight as she stumbled through the gate. She turned immediately to glare daggers at her 'superior' officer. HA! That was a fucking joke! The man was an incompetent, arrogant, dreary, smart-arse and he delibrately provoked her! Just as they had stepped through the gate he had made some comment about her tripping on the way and as she had turned to comment back to him but had in fact tippled backwards - hence her stumbling now on the other side.

"Fucker -- " she muttered under her breath, stalking past DJ - her green fatigues jacket hanging open, her P90 slung over her shoulder and held in both hands. Her hazel eyes assessed the place and she sighed. Trees. More trees - one of these days they would go to a planet with purple trees or biting plants or something bloody different. This shit was all the same and why they had to go and 'research' it was beyond her. In a grump about the new Captain, she turned to glare at DJ now, resentful that he was really why they were here. They were there to protect him whilst he did his studying bits. They were going to explore a little too but overall it was his party and he was a cocky prick making it a shitty party.

Snorting, Thrace sauntered over towards Kawalsky who had just come through the gate and leaned in against him slightly, hazel eyes boring a hole in LAke's head --
"Son of a bitch will get his this mission - mark it." she whispered to Kawalsky.
Kawalksy shut his eyes in irritation and looked down at Thrace, one eyebrow cocked.
"He's your superior officer, Thrace, get a grip." he muttered.
Thrace poked her tongue against the back of her teeth and laughed deeply at Kawalsky who followed West. Thrace was meant to be on point so she skipped down the steps again, brushing past Lake's shoulder, turning to smile and wink at him, walking backwards.

"Sorry Sir." she said with false sincerity, then turned and trotted forward, her short blonde hair tied up at the back of her head bobbing with each movement until she passed West. She always took point.

[Pinkie]

"Was... He was a blacksmith. He died, in the war. He... died..."

Faramir knew almost immediately what had happened from her reaction. He watched with growing misery as the woman stilled in front of him. He could offer her nothing but a sorrowful blue eyed look and waited for her to fall apart. He should have known by now to be more careful when speaking about people, especially men. Alot of women had been left without their men during the War. Faramir had almost died himself... he should have been more careful.

When Miriel made to turn, Faramir was on his feet immediately, towering above her slight form, looking down at the back of her head in abject misery at the hurt he had caused her. The pain in his head multiplied a thousandfold, guilt riddling his already aching body and slow beating heart.

The Ranger licked his lips and shut his blue eyes tight shaking his head apologetically. He wanted to put a hand to her arm but what good would it do? All that he touched turned to misery. His hand hovered a few inches from her arm and his fingers closed in over his palm, his eyes opened. The hand quivered in the air next to her arm and finally sunk down to his side.

Yet again he had let someone down with terrible pain the result of it.
Tucking his bearded chin in against his chest, Faramir shook his head slowly.

"Forgive me. I should be more considerate in my words." he spoke the words clearly but quietly, the entire blame for the whole ordeal falling upon his shoulders. In fact, his tone suggested the whole War was upon his shoulders. If he had have let Frodo go instead of bringing him to Osgilliath, how many more lives would have been saved? Would the hobbits have gotten to Mordor before even Helm's Deep had been over-run?

Swallowing hard, Faramir lifted his chin and looked at the back of Miriel's head. From behind she did look so much like Eowyn that it sent a painful tug to his heartstrings.

"I will leave you in peace, good woman. Forgive me." he spoke those words quieter than before, his voice a hoarse whisper as he bowed and turned on his heel. He deserved to suffer such aches and pains. He did not deserve to sleep and escape the reality that so depressed him.

((ooc: he aint gone yet if she wants to stop hiim))

[Bogwoppit]

Lake had the mother of all hangovers, and heading out on a fucking research mission to some godforsaken dump of a planet was quite frankly NOT his idea of fun, especially not when he had to put up with the company of Little Miss fucking Sunshine over there. He saw the expression of thunder on her face though and brightened slightly as he followed her through the gate, the smirk still on his lips from watching her stumble.

"I meant," he said, his gravelly voice low as he leaned close to her ear, "that your boot lace is undone. I wouldn't like to see you hurt yourself."

Smiling sweetly at her he narrowed his eyes as he watched her sidle up to Kawalsky, no doubt to make some comment about him. Kawalsky wouldn't bite though, Lake had already noted the respect the young man showed to his superiors, even if they were drunken slobs like this one. The Londoner reached up to rub his palm across the rough stubble on his chin as he descended the steps and caught up with DJ. He liked DJ, in so far as he liked anyone, he didn't have to talk to him and the scientist didn't feel the need to talk back, so Lake was free to descend into his own bleak thoughts without any interruptions.

As he started walking however those thoughts were broken into by that bloody woman again, deliberately brushing against him when there was a whole fucking field to walk on. He gave her a bland stare as she walked past, keeping his face expressionless as she winked at him.

Fucking clever little bitch. One of these days she was going to be in for a shock, if he could ever find the energy to be bothered to do anything about it. Christ his fucking head was throbbing.

[Pinkie]

Thrace lifted her hand to her ear, swiping her fingers against the downy skin as if there were a feather tickling her there. She shrugged her shoulder, placing her hand back onto the P90 and narrowing her hazel eyes ahead. They had been walking for about an hour - she ranging on ahead and radioing back any and all reports of the terrain. It made a boring commentary really.

"Trees Sirs, more fucking trees..." she growled into the radio-piece, her hazel eyes scanning the land. And then she heard it. "Hold it hold it -- " she whispered, turning the volume on the radio down and hunkering immediately. Dashing forward but remaining low, Thrace hid behind some bushes and saw a horse -- a horse and rider make their way through the brush. "I have eyes on a woman on a horse, Major West. Young woman - unarmed so far as I can see --" Thrace said, and backed up a few feet, keeping her eyes on the woman until she could hear the others coming through the trees behind her.

Turning, her eyes met Lake's first and despite the enmity between them she was all professionalism in those moments. Surprisingly. Turning and letting KAwalsky in ahed of her, Thrace went back to West and pointed out the woman to him. The trees and brush were thick enough to hide them as they were not on the path -- now they knew there was a path. And if there was a path it obviously led to somewhere. A city perhaps?

[Bogwoppit]

Of course, Miriel could not know what demons Faramir kept in his heart, but the tone of his voice gave her pause even as she tried to overcome the dark despair that threatened to overcome her. Here was a man who had his own ghosts, she saw that from the shadows in his kind eyes, but his words were sincere, feeling her pain even though his own soul grieved.

She took in a deep, shaky breath as she felt his solid presence behind her, and dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands for a moment, biting her lip to keep the tears that threatened at bay.

"I will leave you in peace, good woman. Forgive me."

At this she turned, mindful of her position of work, but more mindful of the fact that he hurt.

"Nay my lord," she spoke quickly, softly, "stay. I am sorry, you were not to know."

Looking up at his broad shoulders as he turned away she suddenly felt the need to help him. The tilt of his head was so defeated, and if anyone hurt more than she it was this man. It must not have been easy for him, to always be in his older brother's golden shadow, but ever he had kept a smile on his face when out in public. This last blow must have been hard on him. It was common knowledge that he had fallen for the Lady Eowyn hard. Indeed, Miriel had witnessed some of their courtship with her own eyes following the end of the war, when the two of them had spent long hours walking in the gardens here. Of course, Miriel had been too distraught to notice much, but she would have had to have been dead herself not to notice the wedding, for the whole city had turned out to witness it.

For the first time since Aldor's death, Miriel had an inkling that perhaps she was not the only person ever to have loved as much as she, and lost that love. It did not occur to her of course, but the grieving process had finally begun.

She forced a smile at the tall captain, and gestured to the bench with elegant fingers.

"Please, sit," she offered. "I will get you something to help you sleep, and something for your headache also." She looked at him with eyes that conveyed understanding, before hurrying to the stores.

She did not want him to leave before she could get back to him, for some part of her realised that he had almost reached rock bottom, and it would not take much push him just that little bit further. Even at the height of her own despair, Miriel had never been tempted to end it all and go to join Aldor in the afterlife.

Her professional, caring nature once more to the fore, she hurried back to where she had left him, relieved to find him still there.

"Drink this now," she instructed briskly, although her voice held kindness, "and these are to take home. You must put them in a tea an hour before you retire for the evening."

[Bogwoppit]

Eledhwen was deep in thought as she rode through the wood. She was sick and tired of the men telling her to go back to her home and learn to sew like the other girls, or to find herself a husband to look after her. She knew they were only teasing her, in truth they quite enjoyed having her around, but it still rankled after a while. Sick, too, was she of her aunt, who also urged her to find a husband on a regular basis, and she wasn't teasing. The girl didn't want a husband, nor did she want to learn to sew or weave, and she could already cook well enough to survive.

For weeks now the idea had been sneaking up on her to find her father, ask him why he had left her, and try to persuade him to come home. How could he prefer that cunning, insipid, pale... creature to his own daughter? How could he have left her just when she needed him? What spell had the Elf weaved around him to make him want to go to live with her in a dark, dank forest? Elves...

She spat at the thought of their pale-eyed ethereal elegance, her own dark gaze flashing as she kicked Asfaloth into a canter. She would go to Mirkwood, hopefully kill a few of the despicable creatures as she went, and demand that the witch let her father go. And if she wouldn't... well then Eledhwen would go to Gondor, to the big city where she could get lost among the people there, bury herself in the crowds, perhaps get a job in the stables there. Were there any female soldiers in Gondor? She had heard many tales of city life, each more fantastic than the last, so she could always hope. In any case it had to be better than Edoras, where she would always be treated like a child, or forced to take a husband she did not want.

She felt her horse stiffen, and an instant before he would have shied she had already calmed him and brought him to a walk. Something was there, in the trees to the left, and her sharp eyes scanned the undergrowth for any movement. Drawing her bow and nocking an arrow she brought Asfaloth to a halt with her knees and waited, holding her breath. She was perfectly capable of defending herself of course, but if it was Orcs that stalked her she might do better to run. Goblins she could handle alone, they were cowardly curs, but Orcs were more persistent, and bigger...

[Bogwoppit]

Walking along easily beside his men, West felt quite relaxed. He had faith in Thrace to spot anything out of the ordinary, she might be... difficult at times, but she was a damn good soldier.

"I have eyes on a woman on a horse, Major West. Young woman - unarmed so far as I can see --"

His radio crackled as the voice floated disembodied through the ether, and he frowned, leaning his ear down towards his chest to hear properly.

"Kawalsky," he instructed, nodding towards the tree line.

The tall lieutenant needed no more than that, and as he went West turned to Lake.

"Captain, watch our six," he barked. "DJ, you're with me."

DJ nodded shortly and the two men followed Kawalsky as he disappeared into the undergrowth. Lake sighed, and raised his weapon, turning in a small, slow circle as he walked slowly after them.

"Thrace?" West whispered into his radio, but then he saw her approaching, and ducked beneath an overhanging branch to meet her.

"What do you have?" he asked. "Does this woman look dangerous? Is she alone?"

[Bogwoppit]

Boromir rode quickly out of the city, urging his horse into a canter as soon as the gates swung closed behind him. The hour already grew late, and if he was to speak to his brother before showing his face at the festival he had best hurry.

Two hours later he returned, walking his horse back through the lower levels to the stables. The Orc attacks were worse than he feared, several of the Rangers had reported movement close to the borders both North and East, and one good man had been injured the night before by an Orc arrow. The wound had been dealt with in the Rangers' usual efficient manner, and the man was resting at one of the outposts, but the captain there was worried, Boromir could tell. In fact, the man had voiced a fear which had been growing steadily in Boromir's own head since the attacks began.

Could it be so? Could Sauron have began to get back his strength so quickly, even after the destruction of the Ring? Boromir could hardly believe it possible, but then, how unlikely was it that the Ring should ever have been found again? The fact was that they just did not have the strength to fight the Dark Lord again, not so soon, and especially not without the help of the Elves on which they had relied so heavily the last time.

Boromir's head ached, a dull, throbbing ache, as the enormity of his responsibility weighed heavily on him. How was he to raise an army when his father insisted all was well? How could he make the old man see that they should act now, before it got out of hand? Denethor was too embroiled in his fantasy of being King of Gondor to admit all was not rosy in his world. And why, why was it all left to Boromir? Where was his fool of a brother when he needed him? He should be out there rallying the Rangers, not leaving it to Boromir who already had the job of two men to do, while he rotted in his room dreaming of something which could never be.

Boromir growled, sliding form his horse and throwing its reins to a stable lad as he strode away to the next gate. He would give Faramir a good talking to, and see to it that he realised just how much Boromir needed him out there.

[Pinkie]

Mari hurried through the corridors of Minis Tirith, her dark curly hair flowing out behind her. The bundle of linen in her arms toppled forward and fell to the ground with a breathy gasp from the young woman.

"Oh dear ..." she whispered, turning and hunkering down to gather up the tumbled linen. She gathered it in a neat pile and was just reaching for teh one pillow case which had skirted a bit further than the rest when her father, Kolya, came trundling around the corner in his guard uniform, belting his sword belt as he fled, kicking over her pile of clean linen. Mari's face twisted in irritation and she looked up at her father who had carried on running, turning to glare at her.

"Honestly Mari - stop crawling around like a bloody child! You could kill someone!" he chided as if he had ever taken an interest in her appearance before now. The girl opened her mouth to argue that she had been working but the tall soldier was already gone and she had all the linen strewn across the ground to pick up again. Sighing resignedly, Mari got to work. She had still to stitch her servant's livery for the festival. It seemed she just couldn't keep up with her growing body anymore - always altering what she already had.

[Pinkie]

Miriel said:

"Nay my lord, stay. I am sorry, you were not to know. Please, sit, I will get you something to help you sleep, and something for your headache also."

Faramir's tense shoulders slumped with her gentle words. He did not deserve such gentle treatment nor an apology from her. But he was too tired to argue and too pained to turn her care aside. Licking his lips, the Ranger looked at Miriel over his shoulder and shut his eyes in supplication. He turned and walked to the bench she gestured to, sighing as he sat, wishing he could take back his cruel question. When she disappeared to the store room, FAramir groaned and leaned back against the wall, rubbing his forehead miserably.

So much still weighted upon his shoulders. Not least the disappointment in himself for not being able to focus on anything let alone assist in defending the borders of Minis Tirith and Gondor. All that felll to Boromir and the older brother bore it so nobly. It was no wonder their father preferred him....

Just as the negative thought flickered through his addled brain, Miriel returned. Faramir straightened immediately, pulling back his shoulders adn looked at her sweet face as she ordered him --

Miriel said:

"Drink this now, and these are to take home. You must put them in a tea an hour before you retire for the evening."

A large hand reached up to take the vial she offered him, blinking dazedly at it then reached his other hand up to take the little pills that she told him to put in tea an hour before retiring. His hands lowered but he did not look any less savvy about the whole affair. Takign a deep breath he tipped his head back and downed the contens on the vial he had been ordered to imbibe immediately. It tasted bitter and made the columns of his throat constrict visibly. Grimacing, Faramir coughed and handed the empty vial back to Miriel, shaking his head and smacking his lips in distaste.

Glaning up at Miriel, Faramir managed the smallest, faintest of smiles --

"They do say the cure is sometimes worse than the affliction do they not?" he asked in the gentle tone of voice that almost sounded like his normal voice, without the bitterness and sadness edging it. Shaking the packet of tablets handed to him, Faramir nodded his head and rose to his feet and stepped to the side a little so that he would not be pressing so close to the small woman. He tucked the packet into the same place that he had tucked Eowyn's letter earlier and removed a few coins from the small pouch. Reaching down to take Miriel's hand, he laid the cold metal against her palm and bowed his head over her hand, his auburn hair brushing against the back of her hand.

"Thank you -- Now pray I remember when I am to take these--" he said trying to lighten the mood though his eyes still held such sadness as he rattled the packet. "Let me impart something that a wise man once told me." the Ranger said, sucking his bottom lip as he lifted his head and narrowed his blue eyes, looking beyond Miriel as he recalled Gandalf's words -- "We are all of us alone dear boy - some of us are lucky enough to find someone to share that loneliness with." the man said with an amused shake of his head, looking back to Miriel, hoping she understood his round-about way of telling her that she was not alone so long as he was around.
They could be alone together.

[Pinkie]

Thrace did not take her hazel eyes off of the woman on the horse. She saw the beast shy and her hand slid down the side of her P90 towards the trigger. She was aware of her team moving about behind her and felt her hackles rise thinking that Lake might be the one to come up towards her. But it was West and DJ who creeped in next to her. The blonde lifted her hand to tell her Major to halt where he was, seeing the woman take a bow from the back of the horse and knock an arrow. It was almost amusing to her -- a fucking bow and arrow. How primitive!

West said:

"What do you have? Does this woman look dangerous? Is she alone?"

Thrace glanced over at West and gave him a lopsided smile, her hazel eyes glinting. It was a look West knew well -- she was about to do something he would probably disappove of.

"Doesn't seem dangerous at all Sir -- hang on.." she said and unclipped her P90- handing it to the Major, releasing it immediately so he had not choice but to take it. She still had two pistols clipped about her body - one on her thigh and another on her belt so she was hardly unarmed. Rising upwards, Thrace raked a hand back through her fair hair as she sauntered out into the path - hands raised and a somewhat friendly smile on her face - - a cheeky, friendly smile.

"Hey -- hey -- I'm unarmed, ok?" she said first of all, turning a full circle and indeed, to all appearances she did seem to be unarmed -- "Me and my friends are here --- we came through the stargate --" she informed the woman and gestured a roundy circle with her hands, recalling how people didn't always know what a stargate was or knew what it was called. She looked up into the woman's dark eyes and smiled -- " The ahm -- star-circle? Portal? We're peaceful -- " Thrace said brightly, placing her hands on her hips and rocking back on her heels a little. "Is there anywhere round here a girl might get a drink?" she asked with a cheeky smile on her face.

[Bogwoppit]

West saw the look Thrace gave him and comprehension dawned a split second too late.

"Thrace!" he hissed, at the same moment as she forced him to take her rifle.

Too late. She was already out on the path and talking to the girl. West looked around at DJ, who raised his eyebrows at him.

"Leave it," West instructed, shaking his head slightly. "She knows what she's doing... I think.



DJ nodded, accepting the command of his superior without question, and watched the two women on the track. So different... the girl on the horse dark, young, skinny... not many clothes... and Thrace. DJ thought Thrace was hot, but he hadn't as yet done anything about it, even though word had it that she wasn't exactly fussy about the company she kept. Still, DJ had an idea that she might be one of those who saw him as a geek, even though he most certainly was not. Better to wait until he had the chance to save her life spectacularly on the field, then she'd be eternally grateful and sleep with him.

[Bogwoppit]

Asfoloth started backwards as Thrace stepped out onto the path, luckily for Thrace, as it meant that Eledhwen lost her aim slightly and had to regain her balance, lowering her bow to place a steading hand on the horse's reins.

"Sshh, shh," she soothed, and turned a fierce dark gaze to this newcomer.

"Who are you?" she demanded, the woman's words slowly sinking in. Stargate... what...? Circle... "The penalty for trespassing on the land of the Rohirrim is death!"

She tried to instill her words with wrath and power, the way she had always admired Eomer doing. The man was her hero, and he always had patience with her. Her speech however came out flat in the deadening forest, and to her own mind she sounded feeble.

She squeezed Asfaloth on a couple of paces, keeping her bow by her side, but with the arrow still held in place with her thumb.

"This... circle of which you speak..." she continued curiously. "The only circle close by is the ring of the Valar, and how can you have come through? What do you mean? Anyone can walk through it at any time, it is nothing special."

As she spoke she glanced up to see movement on the edge of the trail, and instantly raised her bow as three men stepped forward.

"Speak or die!" she commanded, dark brows drawn into a frown.