The Clash
by Jim Morrison
It was just the same speech, albeit with different words; that he had
gotten ever since he had started junior high. He had heard it so often,
he sometimes swore that he could very possibly recite it in his sleep.
"Try to make this year work, Boromir. Please try to be mainstream and
friendly with all the preppy bastards that would rather kick you teeth
in. Please make sure you don't put anyone in the hospital this year."
It all boiled down to this: "Please try to abandon your ideals and make
sure that you come out of it relatively unscathed because the school districts
are running out of places to put problems like you. And the next option
is Juvenile Hall."
He bit his lip. Most of the times he got into shit, it hadn't been because
he had started the mess. He had tried to blend into the school fabric,
being himself and keeping to the others just like him while steering clear
of the precious high school gods. It had worked, for the most part.
He sighed and turned to look at his little brother, Faramir, who was
sitting beside him, half-asleep and leaning heavily against his shoulder.
Seeing him like that made him feel a slight twinge of guilt at having
to start at yet another school again.
It was because they had been kicked out of the three closest schools
in their area that they had to have Galadriel drive them to school. It
wouldn't have been so bad, but the fact was that their new school, St.
Ignatius Loyola Academy was in the richest, most suburban area of the
city and that meant a half-hour ride for them. Which meant that poor Faramir
had to get up twice as early for Galadriel to drive them to his school
and to get to work on time.
"Sorry mate." He murmured to the younger boy and stroked his hair affectionately.
He didn't give a fuck about himself at all. He knew he was shit ever since
he was twelve, when things started to really suck for him and Faramir.
His only concern was whether Faramir was okay. This overwhelming concern
was what usually led him to get into at least a dozen fights in a school-term.
He sighed. He couldn't help being so over-protective of the little shrimp.
He was all the family he ever remembered having, and he was damned if
he was going to let anyone pick on him or beat him up for stuff that he
simply couldn't help. Like being epileptic and poor.
Hence the reason why he was always sitting in the principal's office.
Or in the court-room if things had gotten out of hand. It sure sucked
being a punk sometimes.
Shaking his head, he looked out the window once again and swallowed hard.
Looming before them stood St. Ignatius Loyola Academy, his and Faramir's
prison.
"Be still my beating heart." Boromir muttered softly as he took in the
weathered brick and plaster, the trees and the large sign on the front
lawn that read: "St. Ignatius Loyola Academy. Est. 1915." in such a preppy
script that made Boromir's hackles rise.
The place screamed out wealth and preppiness. He would have to count
himself lucky to survive at least a whole day in this place. Yay.
Galadriel stopped the car and turned to look at the two boys in the back-seat.
She smiled slightly at the sight of Faramir sleeping on his brother's
arm before she looked at Boromir's closed and hostile face. The sight
of his sullen expression made her smile slip.
Boromir, as always, looked like he had just rolled out of the dumpster,
in her opinion. Even though she and Celeborn weren't fairly wealthy, they
could still afford to buy the boys decent clothes. But Boromir had refused
her efforts to have him dress somewhat presentably and wore patched, tattered
jeans with T-shirts and sweaters that were falling apart, duct-taped combat
boots and a leather jacket that could have very likely seen the first
punk wave. He also had numerous piercings in both ears, one in his nose
and several in each eyebrow.
Faramir was a little better, but he also looked fairly sloppy, since
he wore baggy skater jeans and T-shirts along with a ragged jean jacket
that had been a hand-me-down from his older brother. He too had several
piercings, but he relegated them to three earrings in each ear. Both boys
also had long hair that went past their shoulders and sported red and
blue streaks that shone vividly in the gold hair that they shared. Although
she didn't approve of the hair and the piercings, she let it pass, since
she knew which battles to pick and which to drop. The hair and earrings
one she was prepared to drop. The clothes one was still pending.
Although she loved both of the boys, she couldn't help but to be exasperated
with Boromir. Ever since the boy had arrived in her care, Boromir had
constantly been in some sort of trouble or other. It was very exasperating
for her to have to deal with the countless phone calls and meetings that
she had to attend due to Boromir's behaviour. Hopefully, she told herself
with some enthusiasm, this year and this school would be different.
St. Ignatius was a very good school, she knew. They only let the top
20% of all students in the city and it was a surprise that both Boromir
and Faramir had been literally scouted to the school. Maybe there, she
had told her husband Celeborn, Boromir would be able to find a niche for
himself and Faramir.
"Let me guess. You want us to have fun and be careful?" Boromir asked,
his green eyes narrowing in cool amusement as he shook his brother awake.
Galadriel shook her head, making her long, blonde hair flutter softly
about her shoulders.
"Boromir." Galadriel pursed her lips. The boy was incorrigible. She honestly
didn't know whether she wanted to shake him or to smile in amusement at
the things he would say.
"Just try to have a good day, okay? I'll see you and Faramir at four."
"Yeah. See you later, Galadriel." Boromir replied as he opened the car-door
and stepped outside, gracelessly dragging Faramir behind him and waved
half-heartedly as she drove off.
"She out of sight?" Faramir asked as he began to dig through his own
battered backpack.
Boromir stretched out his neck and looked. Yep. Galadriel's car was definitely
out of sight.
"Light one up." Boromir told his little brother, who promptly fished
out a badly squashed pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Lighting one of
the cancer- sticks up, Faramir took a deep drag of it and looked around
at their new school.
"We're pretty much fucked, aren't we, Bor?" Faramir asked before giving
his brother the smoke.
Boromir took a drag and looked around. Although he didn't want to admit
it, he knew that Faramir's fear was well-founded. All the kids that were
walking towards the school or milling around the entrances looked like
they had just stepped out of the Gap or American Eagle Outfitters. Boromir
was willing to bet that his and Faramir's clothes put together had cost
less than the belts that some of the kids wore.
"Yep. I hate to say it, but we are." Boromir admitted quietly. Faramir
sighed.
"You're lucky Bor. You only have a year left." Faramir muttered as he
received the smoke again.
Boromir grimaced. "That's if I make it here, 'Mir. It looks like I may
not."
Faramir shook his head. "Bor, you have to make it this year. You heard
what Saruman said the last time you got suspended. He's gonna send you
to Juvie Hall till you turn eighteen!"
Boromir winced when he saw his brother's face. He had forgotten about
the old man's threats. One more fuck-up and he was going to Juvie Hall
under Sauron, who had been appropriately nicknamed "The Bastard" for obvious
reasons.
He probably would make his life even more miserable than it already was,
since he would be separated from his brother and branded with a Juvie
Hall record that would make sure the University wouldn't even touch him
with a ten-foot pole. He sighed.
"We'd better go see the principal." Boromir said to his brother, effectively
cutting the conversation off. He'd think about that another time. Right
now, his only concern was surviving at least most of the day without getting
into trouble.
"Guess what?!" Aragorn Strider looked up from the book he was reading,
an irritated expression on his face as he did so. Above him, Frodo Baggins
looked like he was ready to piss his pants from excitement.
Aragorn sincerely hoped the hobbit wouldn't do it in the middle of the
hallway. If he recalled correctly, the next bathroom was quite a ways
off and he knew that he had no clean pants to lend to the hobbit.
"What?" Aragorn asked listlessly as he tried to finish the second chapter
of his recently purchased novel. The book was really odd, to say the least
and he hadn't had a chance to even make a significant dent in it since
he had bought it, with Arwen and the others hanging around.
"Guess who just transferred to St.Ig's?" Frodo asked him. Aragorn's lips
pursed in annoyance.
He would have dearly loved to tell Frodo to kindly fuck off and chase
Eowyn. Or even better Sam Gamgee, but basic politeness made him keep his
thoughts to himself.
"Who?" he asked in a neutral tone as he flipped another page.
"Boromir and Faramir Denethorson!" Frodo exclaimed in such a girly, air-headed
manner that Aragorn had a hard time keeping his composure and hurting
the hobbit's feelings. Even though Frodo tried to keep a facade of being
an all-around player too busy to settle down with any girl, Aragorn was
sure Frodo was walking on the left side of the street, so to speak.
"And the names mean what to me?" Aragorn asked, putting his book down
when he saw Eowyn and Eomer Rohan, along with his erstwhile on and off
girlfriend Arwen Rivendell come running up, clearly bursting with bits
of gossip that they had picked up.
"Did you tell him?" Arwen gasped as she plunked herself down beside Aragorn,
who was shoving the novel into his army rucksack lest it got crumpled.
"Yeah. And as you can see, he's truly intrigued by the news." Frodo replied
tartly.
Arwen flicked her long dark-hair over her shoulder as she studied Aragorn,
who was now scowling at her impatiently.
"I just don't see what's so special about those guys anyways." Aragorn
muttered testily.
Eowyn laughed. " Aragorn, Boromir is THE toughest guy in the north.
No one messes with him. He's also the best soccer player AND rumour has
it he and his brother Faramir were practically begged to come to St. Ig's
because they're soo freaking smart. You know Rosie Cotton? She was in
St. Kilda's with them and she was telling me that Boromir and Faramir
were always acing any tests they were given. It was unreal."
"Look!" Eomer pointed to two figures emerging from Mr. Gandalf's office
and warily walking down the hall-way towards the small group.
"They sure don't look like much, do they?" Arwen muttered as two raggedly
looking boys came closer.
Aragorn didn't reply. He was, despite himself, highly fascinated as he
watched the two unusually dressed figures come closer.
They all remained quiet as they watched them walk by. The taller one
had a piece of paper in his hand and was busy scanning the lockers, while
the younger looked around timidly, as if he expected to be attacked at
a moment's notice.
Both were dressed in threadbare clothes and had earrings and blue and
red streaks in their hair, making them look wild and unrestrained in the
extremely preppy environment of St. Ig's. It was fairly apparent that
they didn't belong there. Watching them made Aragorn wonder whether they
would succumb to the brand-mania of the school like many others had done
before them.
"Like you had." A small voice in the back of his head whispered before
he forcibly shut it up.
Aragorn drew a breath in sharply when he felt the taller boy's eyes sweep
over him. He had never seen eyes like those before. A bright, emerald
green full of angry fire that seemed as if it was being restrained with
considerable effort. It was a fire that was so bright and scorching that
it made Aragorn wonder if the fire would get hotter in the middle of...
"Can't they afford anything better?" Eowyn added her two cents worth,
making Aragorn roll his eyes in mixed exasperation and relief. He hated
her shallowness most of the time, but at that moment, he was utterly relieved
at her timely intervention.
Although the boys had moved on by then, they hadn't gone far enough to
be out of earshot of Eowyn's snide little comment.
Aragorn saw the taller boy's shoulders stiffen before he turned those
fiery green eyes onto him and Eowyn.
"No. We can't afford anything better. We don't have rich parents like
you do." He spat out contemptuously.
Eomer's face turned red as he stepped in front of a shocked Aragorn and
Eowyn.
"That's my sister you're talking to, pal!" Eomer hissed at the new-comer
angrily.
"Yeah? So?" the green-eyes boy drawled, his eyes narrowing as his body
swiftly moved into a fighting position.
"Boromir!" Aragorn's head suddenly jerked to the smaller boy who had
called out.
"This is Boromir?" Aragorn thought as he watched the small skater walk
up to the taller boy.
"Boromir, let it go. Come on, Boromir. We just got here." The younger
boy pleaded.
Eowyn's eyes got big at the name and she quickly reached for her brother's
arm.
"Eomer, don't be stupid! That's Boromir Denethorson! Let it go, idiot!"
Boromir looked amused at the exchange, but he visibly relaxed when he
felt the boy tugging on his arm. He looked at the younger boy and grinned.
"You're right Faramir. Let's go." Boromir replied, turning around and
going over to his locker with his brother Faramir beside him.
Eomer watched them go, and Aragorn could tell that despite the dissolution
of a potential fight; Eomer was still angry.
"Fuck you!" He yelled at the two boys.
Boromir stiffened, but did nothing. Faramir, on the other hand, flipped
him the bird.
Aragorn looked away, not wanting to burst into laughter in front of Eomer,
who was notoriously touchy and didn't take being teased very well.
"You little shit!" Aragorn's head jerked back in time to see Eomer run
at Faramir, jump on him and punch him in one motion.
"You fucken asshole!" Boromir roared, lunging at Eomer. "Fuck off!"
He yelled, easily pulling Eomer off of a dazed Faramir and proceeding
to punch the living daylights out of the other boy.
"Leave him alone!!!" Eowyn screeched, while Arwen screamed incoherently.
Frodo had remained quiet and was watching the action incredulously while
Aragorn did the same.
"BOROMIR!" Faramir shouted at his brother. "BOROMIR!" He yelled again
before moaning loudly and stiffening up. Aragorn's mouth went dry when
he saw the boy go stiff and collapse on the floor before his body started
jerking uncontrollably.
"Shit!" He exclaimed as he ran over to the boy. Placing him on his side,
he tried to stroke the boy's clammy forehead in an effort to calm him
down as the seizure took its toll.
"YOU STUPID FUCKER!!!!" Aragorn heard Boromir shout behind him. "ASSHOLE!"
Aragorn shivered when he heard the low voice shout out those things behind
him and resisted the urge to look behind him. Boromir sounded extremely
pissed and he certainly didn't want that wrath to come upon his head at
that time. Besides, Faramir, it seemed, had passed out and looked like
he wasn't in any shape to be left alone no matter what.
He was chewing his lip, wondering what else to do when a loud voice behind
him broke the chaos.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!"
Chapter I
Welcome to St. Ig's!!
oromir Denethorson sat slumped in the
back of his foster mother's car, his battered rucksack beside him as he
watched the buildings and people go by outside. His foster mother, Galadriel,
was talking to him about something or other, but he was just shutting
her voice out for the most part.
