The Two Worlds

††Chapter Seventeen††

Chapter Seventeen

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

"It's time to go." Boromis whispered to Frodo, "I will let you wake the girl up."

"Thank you." Frodo said with much appreciation.

"I want you to know that I do not think it is right for Faramir to keep you from your quest. No one should use another person for his own personal needs or wants. If I could I would free you right now."

"Then why don't you?"

"You don't understand the half of it." he said with deep sadness and shook his head, "I have a family of my own that I need to provide for. If I go against my captain's orders I will not a job anymore. I am sorry."

"Do not be sorry, Sir. I would do the same thing if I were in your shoes. I would do anything to protect the one whom I love." he said and held Cody closer to him.

"Thank you Master Halfling. It lightens my heart to hear that someone, other than another soldier, understands my position right now."

Just then there came a great crashing noise from farther away but was quickly approaching. Frodo and Boromis snapped their heads in the direction the noise had come from as Sam grabbed his sword and walked over to his master's side. Rangers quickly appeared out of the trees with their swords drawn or their bows pulled taught. Faramir came striding out of the woods and nonchalantly drew his sword as if nothing were happening.

Time itself seemed to slow down as they waited for what ever beast was fastly approaching. Cody had awoken at this time and stood quivering by Frodo's side. He tried to stay strong for her but, on the inside he was shaking like a dead leaf.

After what seemed like years, a young rider burst out of the trees and reined his bay horse to a stop. The horse reared in fear and had his eyes so wide that all that was visible of them were the whites. His nostrils were flared and red from his long journey and his legs were caked in mud and grass. His bay coat was slick with sweat and, had it been cold out at that time, steam rolled off of his body. His black mane gleamed in the sunlight that shone between the branches and his tail flicked his sides as flies cane to rest on his flanks.

The rider himself could not have been a day older than sixteen. His golden colored hair was tossled and windswept from his swift ride to find the Rangers. He wore a fitted, black shirt with a silver tree sewn onto the front. Underneath the shirt was a tight, mail like material with small amour shoulder plates. He wore a strange type of pants that were fitted as well and he fashioned black boots that reached his knees.

His cheeks were the color of cherries and his chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. His brow was sticky with sweat and small beads of the salty liquid rolled down his face and dripped off of his chin. Parts of his messy hair were plastered down to his forehead and were clumped together. His eyes were the color of clouds before a great storm, the color of the angry sea that is near by as if rages by an unforeseen force.

The only weapons the boy brandished was a small knife strapped to the side of his boot and a horseman's sword sheathed and strapped to his side. He looked around wildly as the men raised their weapons and the bowmen aimed their arrows. He turned his horse around his circles for he was restless and scared of the unfamiliar men.

"Faramir, áit a bhfuil Faramir?" he asked in a clear voice that should not have belonged to a boy his age, "Tá mé ó Gondor go bhfuil i gceist le haghaidh a chluasa."

"And what is the news from Gondor, rider?" Faramir asked the boy as he stepped forward.

The boy did not respond to his words but swung his legs over the saddle and landed lightly on the ground. He stumbled once for his legs were numb from his ride but he refused the help when it was offered to him by one of the Rangers. However, he handed his stead's reigns to the man and signaled for Faramir to join him at the edge of the clearing.