She/Her |🇺🇸🇺🇦 🇵🇸| Old enough to know better, young enough not to care | Writer | Dreamer | Made of Pixie dust and tattoos, laughter and daydreams | Oddly fond of the men of Middle Earth | 18+ | Ask Box OPEN | Requests: CLOSED
Summary: Emerson Brooks is a thoroughly modern woman who wishes she was anywhere else. She loves her job, but when she learns she’s been passed over for a promotion, she begins to wonder if there isn’t something better out there, just waiting for her to discover it. However, she should’ve been more specific, for she is wholly unprepared when she finds out just what that something is—and finds herself stranded in Middle Earth, of all places, with no idea how to get back home.
The Fellowship has set out for Mordor, where the One Ring will be destroyed. But, none of them thought their group of nine would grow by one more—a woman who must be witch, judging by her dress, her mannerisms and her utter lack of remaining quiet, never mind her complete and total lack of any sort of ability to wield a weapon without putting them all in danger.
But Boromir realizes there is more to this odd girl than meets the eye, and neither he nor she is prepared for the moment when they realize there is something between them…
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (AU, Boromir lives)
Pairing: Boromir x ofc Emerson Brooks
Warnings: none
Rating: T
Word Count: 3.1k
Read on AO3
The next morning was cool and gray, and when Emerson opened her eyes to find herself staring up at a iron-gray clouds, she forgot for a moment where she was. A hint of panic shot through her as she sat bolt upright, wincing at the stiffness in her back that came from sleeping on the ground.
Around her, the Fellowship also slept. Except for Aragorn, who sat stoically by the dying fire, staring into the flames as if they showed him his future. Emerson tried her best to not make a sound, as she didn't want to disturb him. For some reason, she just felt that she shouldn’t, that she’d be intruding on something if she did.
Which might have worked, had she not needed to find a bathroom. Desperately.
With that, she peered around, spinning in a slow circle as if a convenience store would suddenly materialize amongst the trees and rocks. And not just any convenience store. One with a public restroom. Her bladder screamed at her to find one ASAP.
Instead, she stumbled over a tree root, and let out a very loud, “Son of a bitch!” as she hit the ground, her shoulder taking the brunt of the fall.
A moment later, Aragorn stood above her, holding out a hand. “Are you all right?”
“You mean, aside from my bruised ego?” She nodded. “I think so, yeah.”
She laid her hand in his, his fingers wrapping about her wrist as he tugged and as she rose, he said, “Ego?”
“Yeah. You know,” she brushed leaf bits and tree bark from her backside, then looked back at him, “my pride.”
“Ah, pride.” He nodded slowly. “That I understand.”
“I hope I didn't ruin your meditation.” At his puzzled look, she gestured toward the log he’d been sitting on before she fell. “You were staring into the fire like you were thinking very hard about something. I hope I didn't disturb it.”
“No, you didn’t. I was just pondering our next steps, since Boromir has decided to take you into Marston.” He released her hand, then turned back to the fire. “We hadn’t planned for an extra body. Especially one—”
He cut himself off, but she smiled as she followed him back to where he’d been sitting, and sank onto the log beside him. “It’s okay. You can say it. One like me. I know, I’m a mess and I’m slowing you down and if you wanted to just go on and leave me here, I’d totally understand. I mean, I wouldn’t really like it, but I’d get it. I’m a liability.”
This time, when he looked at her, it was with utter confusion. “You speak quickly, you know, and it makes understanding you a bit difficult at times.”
Her cheeks warmed. Rambling was one of her tells when she was nervous or uncomfortable and right then, she was both. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. This is just… I’m not cut out for this kind of life, you know? Camping out. Being on the run. Hunted. It’s really not something I do real well, apparently. I mean, not that I’m surprised by it, but to be honest, not many New Yorkers are hunting me down in the wilds of Manhattan, you know?”
“No.” He shook his head, his gray eyes tranquil. “I am afraid I do not.”
The heat in her cheeks worsened. “No, I—I guess you don’t.”
A heavy sigh worked its way to her lips, and she reached up to rub her forehead. “If Boromir wants to just dump me in this Marston, I totally understand. I’d dump me as quick as I could.”
“No one will dump you. But, have you any experience with a blade of any sort? Or any defense skills?”
“I know how to jump a turnstile. And I do have a pretty mean left hook.” As his brow furrowed once more, she made a fist with her left hand and punched him in the shoulder. He sucked in a sharp breath and winced, and she couldn't help but grin. “That’s a left hook. Only if I was really pissed, I’d have knocked you off this tree.”
He returned her grin with a rueful one of his own and gingerly rubbed the spot where she’d hit him. “I’ll keep that in mind before angering you, Miss Brooks. You hit as a man would.”
“My father wasn’t worth much,” she confessed, glancing down at her hand, still balled as it rested on her thigh, “but he taught me how to defend myself. Just not with any weapons other than my hands and feet.”
“At times, you need no more than that. Unfortunately, the odds are strong you will need more, I’m afraid. Boromir will find the village blacksmith as well and he’s agreed to help teach you how to use a sword if you’re willing.” He smiled as Boromir came up behind him, rubbing one eye. “He’s been teaching the hobbits, you know.”
“I didn’t, but I hope he’s got a lot of patience, because I’m pretty sure he’s going to need every ounce of it.”
She hadn’t heard him come up behind them until his boots crunched softly on the fallen leaves, but then Boromir crouched beside her. “I’ll be fine, but” he gestured toward the road ahead of them, “we should go as soon as possible, so we don’t fall too far behind the others.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I just need to pee first.”
At both furrowed male brows, she burst out laughing. “I need to use the necessary? The privy? The loo? Which one is the right one before I get into trouble somewhere for being crude.”
This time, the dawning of recognition lit both somewhat scruffy faces at the same time, which only made her laugh harder. Especially when Boromir said, “Come with me and I’ll show you where we’ve been going.”
“Okay, but then you’re coming back here, right?” Her back stiffened at his long look. “No. You are not hanging around when I pee, you freak. I’ll be fine.”
“Miss Emerson, we have no idea what lurks around the woods.”
“No one has jumped any of you, right?” She waited for his nod, then continued, “So, I’ll be fine. I’ll even hold onto a big stick, just in case. But I am not about to have an audience.”
Boromir didn't look too happy, but he slowly nodded again. “Very well. But I will be nearby. Just in case.”
“Out of earshot, and out of sight.”
“Miss Emer—”
“I mean it. If I see you, I swear I’ll deck you.”
“Deck me?”
“I believe she means to hit you,” Aragorn broke in softly. “And trust me, you do not want that.”
Boromir arched a single brow, looking from Aragorn to her as he replied, “If you say so.”
Emerson stared up at him, realizing he was only barely holding in a laugh. “Try me, mister. You’ll see.”
“I’m certain I will.” Boromir nodded, his expression growing serious as he gestured and added, “I thought you needed to go?”
“I do.”
“Then let’s go.”
With that, he started off toward the woods, not far from where they’d made their camp for the night. It sloped up, the path he followed narrow and uneven and she held her breath that she wouldn’t trip or twist her ankle or anything that might set them back even further. They weren’t overjoyed with being saddled with her, but at least they weren’t leaving her to fend for herself. It was a small consolation, but she’d take it just the same.
The woods here, in Middle Earth, were nothing like the woods she was used to. As they crested the ridge and the trees thickened, what light that had managed to break through the thick clouds, was almost imperceptible there. The foliage canopy was still thick, although the leaves were beginning to show hints of red and gold and yellow, and not only did it blot out the light, it also seemed to absorb the sound. The soft crunch of leaves and dying grass beneath her feet died away, the silence growing thick and eerie as it pressed in on her.
A hint of discomfort swept through her, made her walk a bit faster to bring her in step with Boromir, and without thinking, she slipped her arm through his. At his questioning glance, she said, “This place makes me uncomfortable.”
“There’s nothing here to fear. If there was, we’d never have lasted the night.”
“I’m not afraid. I’m just… uncomfortable, is all.”
She expected him to laugh, to tell her that basically she just admitted to being afraid and that she had no reason to fear anything. In fact, she braced herself for it.
But then, to her surprise, he said, “These woods make many feel uncomfortable. But, worry not. Even if we happened upon someone, I’ll not let any harm come to you. You have my word.”
“Even if it meant you wouldn’t be slowed down by me?”
“Miss Emerson,” he paused, turning toward her, both hands resting on the pommel of his sword, “know this, there is not a one of us who would allow harm to come to you. And you are hardly slowing us down any more than the hobbits are, and trust me, Merry and Pippin are accidents looking for a place to happen. Pippin more so than Merry, but you understand.”
He spoke softly, his voice low and even, and his expression was one of such utter seriousness, that she didn't doubt him at all. “Aragorn said something about getting me a sword. And that you might be willing to teach me how to use it? He said you were working with the hobbits, so—”
“He said that, did he?”
For a moment, she had the horrible feeling she’d said something terribly wrong, and wondered if maybe Aragorn was just screwing around with her. He didn't seem the sort, but who knew with guys like him?
Still, she held his gaze as she nodded. “Just before you joined us, yes.”
“Do you wish to learn?”
“You know, if you’d asked me that two days ago, I’d have told you you were nuts. But now? And here?” She gestured to the gloominess that seemed to grow gloomier still as they stood there. “Yeah. I wish to learn.”
“Then I shall teach you.” The outer corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “But I think we should find you a sword more your size first. Somehow, I think this one—” he moved the pommel to swing the long-bladed sword outward—“might be a bit much for you.”
There was definitely a joke in there, but she didn't quite feel comfortable enough to make it just yet. A few more weeks, and she wouldn’t think twice about it. But for now? They thought her weird enough. Why let them think she was a jezebel or a witch or a harlot, or whatever they called women who liked a good dick joke in this world.
So, instead, she just nodded, pressing her lips together to hold the joke at bay. When she trusted herself not to say anything, she replied, “Sounds good. Although, I think I’d manage your sword just fine.”
His smile wavered and she mentally head smacked herself as having slipped up so badly. Jackass! What happened to not letting them know you like a good dick joke?
She waited for him to say something about it, but instead, he gestured down the narrow path. “We really do need to move, so go and find a tree and I’ll wait here.”
“A tree?”
“That’s what we use.”
“Guess I’ll find a way to make it work.”
“You probably should. We have to go.”
“And so do I, so wait here?”
“I won’t move a muscle.”
“Promise?”
“Miss Emerson—”
She held up a hand. “I know, I know. Okay, I’m going.”
She started down the path to put space between them. With each step that took her further from him, the oppressiveness of the trees all around her seemed to thicken and grow even more oppressive. Her mind was having a field day with her, making the air feel heavy and dank, muffling sounds until they were but low rumbles in her ears, like the sounds made underwater. A sense of sadness wound through her, one she hadn’t felt in years, and a lump rose unexpectedly in her throat.
“It’s just this place, Em. It has to be.” She stepped around a massive oak tree, whose branches seem to scrape the sky itself. This would do.
She peered around, but could no longer see Boromir. A hint of panic shot through her, her belly roiling the same way it did when she realized too late she’d forgotten a doctor’s appointment. “B—Boromir?”
Her voice echoed softly, but no response met it.
Her instinct was to bolt, to run back to where she hoped he still stood, and just take her chances on her bladder not exploding before she could find a less scary patch of woods to use.
“Boromir!”
The word rang out like a shot, far louder than the previous one, and what had been fear melted into relief when he called back, “I’m here, Miss Emerson.”
“Thank God,” she muttered as she unsnapped her jeans and a few minutes later, she was tugging them back up, thankful she didn't get anything on them.
She stepped back around the tree when the first arrow whistled past her to embed itself in the tree she’d just been crouched at. Had she stood and remained there, that arrow would have hit her between the eyes.
A second arrow split the air, just missing her left ear. Her scream ripped free of its own and she didn't give a damn about trying to be brave as Boromir hollered back, “Emerson?”
“I’m okay!” She broke into a run as a third arrow came from nowhere and this time, a hot sting ripped across her upper arm, tearing her sleeve and digging a trench in her shoulder.
Boromir came bounding down the path, sword in one hand, shield in the other, as she went to her knees, grabbing at her wounded shoulder. It throbbed with each heartbeat, and the pain was enough that her stomach clenched and threatened to empty itself right there.
“Get behind me!” His voice echoed through the trees as another arrow came their way, hitting the thick leather of his shield as he moved in front of her.
She practically flattened herself against him. “You really didn’t have to tell me that!”
But as quickly as the first arrows flew, the forest went silent. Still, she didn't move, in fact, she fought to remain on her feet as the throbbing in her shoulder worsened, the stinging almost unbearable each time the torn fabric brushed the slash, and she glanced down to see blood seeping through the pale yellow fabric of her Farran’s tee shirt, her stomach lurching at the sight.
He turned to her. “We should move. We can find a doctor in the village, but first—”
To her surprise, his voice cut off, his eyes widening as he gazed down at her. She reached for her wounded arm, trying to peel the fabric away as she said, “What’s the matter? Is it worse than I thought?”
“No,” he replied softly, shaking his head as he continued to stare at her. “I’ve seen you before.”
She froze, her sleeve forgotten as she looked back up at him. “What?”
He nodded, and this time, held his blade toward her. “Who are you and from where have you really come? And do not think to lie to me, lady.”
“Boromir, in case you’ve forgotten, there were a bunch of arrows just flying through here and there might be more, so maybe we can have this discussion somewhere a little less… arrowy?”
He shook his head. “They’ve stopped and you need answer my question.”
“You’re crazy because I’ve never seen any of you before yesterday and I’m pretty sure I need stitches or to be leeched or whatever it is you all do around here.”
“I have seen you before.”
“Yeah, a few minutes ago, before I went to pee behind a tree. Now, I’m not going to stand here and argue with you and wait for whoever it was shooting at us to reload and shoot again. You’re crazy if you don't think this hurts, you know. I really don't want to find out what it’s like to be hit by two arrows, if you don't mind. So, I don't know what you’re about, but I promise you, you’ve never seen me before.”
She didn't wait for him to respond, but spun around to head back toward where they’d made camp. Maybe it wasn't too late to catch up with them and say to hell with any other clothing or shoes. If she froze to death, it might actually be preferable at this point.
But Boromir seemed to snap out of whatever trance he’d been in as he finally re-sheathed his sword. “No, my mistake and I apologize, Miss Emerson. Of course I’ve never seen you before. That would be madness.”
“Exactly. Now, let’s go. Maybe we can catch up with the others.”
He fell into step with her. “They are no doubt already on their way. And we need to venture into Marston. Perhaps there I can learn who lurks in these woods. It was most likely a hermit who does not take kindly to trespassers.”
“For possessive hermit, he gave up pretty easily. Three arrows and he didn't come to see if he’d gotten me?”
“Let’s be grateful he didn’t.” His gaze fell upon her shoulder. “We should get you to a doctor first. Then we can worry about the rest.”
“Do they have Vicodin here in Middle Earth?”
His brow knit. “I beg your pardon?”
She held his look for a long moment, then sighed, the heavy oppressive feeling fading as they made their way back to the road. “Never mind. I didn't think you did. But, I’m sure it’ll be okay. Your doctor will probably give me a bullet or wooden spoon to bite on if it needs to be stitched.”
“If it needs stitches, I’ll find you some brandy or whiskey. Would that help?”
Despite her discomfort, she nodded. “Yeah. I think it might.”
“Then let’s move, in case the hermit decides to come back.”
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So, Cheeseburger died on November 21st after an unfairly short battle with an unfairly rare cancer that is rarely seen in cats. I only got to spend a month with him after his diagnosis, and losing him has been the greatest heartbreak of my entire life so far. He was my best friend and my soul cat, and he was there for me when I was completely alone, for twelve long years.
I made this transparent PNG the night he died in preparation for one of the many ways I was going to memorialize him--a surface rug in his likeness that I planned on laying directly in the line of his favourite sunbeam. And I uploaded that PNG here, because this is the website where people post their cats.
I was not expecting the reception I got. Many people have pointed out that this post has more reblogs than likes, and how insane that is in 2025 when reblog culture is at an all time low. I didn't even talk about the fact that Burger passed away in the original post, it wasn't a tearjerker reblog bait or anything like that. People just loved Burger that much, in the same way I fell in love with him at first sight. He was such an ugly kitten.
Anyways, it's really special to me that so many people have reblogged my best friend. I made this PNG to memorialize him in a completely different way, and you all wound up doing just that in ways I never even imagined.
Thank you. Wherever he is, I know the sun is shining.
Rules: Make a poll with five of your all-time favorite characters, and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone’s favorite.
Thank you, @ravnarieldurin for the tag! This one looks like a lot of fun! :)
