The Lady of Rivendell

Chapter 11

Turns out, that the four of them splitting up was just the beginning of the splitting up that they would have to do in the end...the beginning of the end, rather, because this wasn't even close to being over.

Frodo had been fraught with fear when Aragorn finally found him, for he'd been forced to use the power of the Ring to escape Boromir who had attacked him as he succumbed to the darkness. Aragorn swore to protect Frodo, but he was only human and there was only so much he could do before the Ring worked his magic on him just as it did Isildur, which was his greatest fear in life and the reason he chose exile.

So, he'd sent Frodo running towards Mordor, by himself.

And it was a good thing too, because while Frodo escaped, someone had to hold off the army of Orcs that found them as they were called by Frodo's use of the Ring's power.

So Aragorn stood tall as he raised his sword and charged the Orcs, their leader snarling at him as he began tearing down the army.

And who would find him first, who would have his back other than the very person who always had his back?

Aragorn had been on the ground as his sword was stuck in the Orc that hovered over him, the rest of the army heeding their master's orders as he bellowed, "FIND THE HALFLING!"

And it was as another Orc raised its club over its head that an arrow poked through its chest as it collapsed.

Atop the stone ruins Aragorn himself had just fallen from, Allora stood, armed with her bow as she fired more arrows and then tugged it over her torso, drawing her dual broadswords.

And she let out the mightiest of battle cries as she plunged into the Orc army.

Her swords were dripping with their dark blood as she stabbed, slashed and decapitated creature after creature, Orc after Orc. She had slashed the head off one with both swords before she yelled, "Where's Frodo?!"

"He's headed for Mordor!" he replied in Elvish, just in case the Orcs understood the common tongue, which they did.

Allora had each sword inside the chest of an Orc as another one ran at her, but before she could even withdraw her blades and prepare to attack, an arrow was fired through the Orc's forehead.

Glancing behind her, Allora grinned as she saw Legolas and Gimli behind her, running up the same hill that she had once she heard the sounds of battle, and more specifically the voice of Aragorn.

"Aragorn, go!" Legolas ordered as he covered the mortal king, stabbing an Orc with his arrow before withdrawing it and launching it through the air. And they took care of the Orcs as Aragorn tried to fight his way after Frodo, but he didn't make it very far.

They fought, but for all the Orcs that fell, more seemed to take their place, until the horn sounded.

Because when the horn sounded, they realised that their enemies were running off.

"The horn of Gondor!" Legolas said.

"Boromir!" Aragorn gasped.

"GO!" Allora screamed at him as she drew her bow, notching two arrows as Gimli and Legolas hoarded around her, keeping any Orcs at bay as she aimed her bow up. Volleys, she launched again and again, two at a time, sometimes three, her aim flawless as her arrows rained down on the Orcs that stood between them and their friends. It also did well for Aragorn as it helped conserve his strength for dispatching the leader of this Orc army. And then it was revealed the second round of splitting up that they had to do.

For in order for Frodo to escape, Pippin and Merry had not listened to Allora and had distracted the Orcs that had escaped their slaughter, but had paid the price and become their prisoners.

And then came perhaps, the most painful parting of all. The death of Boromir.

When the Elves and the Dwarf caught up to Aragorn, he knelt before a dying Boromir who was so pale it seemed as if death had already claimed him. He was pressing a sword into his hand as the dying man clutched it tightly, three arrows spouting from his chest.

"I would have followed you, my brother. My captain. My king," Boromir panted as tears gathered in their eyes once more as they lost another comrade, as he went still.

And as the reality of the mortality of this quest sank in even further, they decided to not waste any more time, to be there for each other while they could.

Allora's inhale was deep as her chest rose, Legolas' knuckles lightly brushing the back of her hand before his forefinger slid down hers with a silken touch before he finally laced their fingers together.

"Be at peace, son of Gondor," Aragorn farewelled before kissing Boromir's forehead and he stood to face the three friends he had left.

"We must see this through," Allora spoke as hopefully as she stood, finding strength in the skin that touched Legolas'. "For Boromir."

"And we will. Till the end," Aragorn agreed. "But first, he deserves a hero's burial."

It was daunting, morbid and positively disconcerting to carry Boromir's body back to the shore, to place him and his sword, his shield, and his cloak in one of the canoes; to neaten his hair and remove the arrows from his chest. It made them want to lose the little food they had in their bellies, but they stomached it, they kept it down, for their friend.

They stood simply as they watched, in silence, as the current pushed Boromir's body off the edge of the waterfall, to let him rest at sea.

"Legolas," Allora said finally, allowing herself to focus on something other than the dwindling number of their group. "You are hurt," she said as she observed the slash mark on his bicep, the wound clearly having been made by a sword or an arrow that cut right through his clothes and then his skin, but thankfully it didn't seem to be too deep.

"I am fine."

"Legolas, you are bleeding."

"I am fine, Allora!" he snapped as he reached for the last boat and began pushing it towards the water. "But Frodo is not. We must hurry. Frodo and Sam will have reached the Eastern shore!" he exclaimed before he stopped, noticing that Aragorn hadn't moved, which meant no one else had moved as he gazed across the river to where the other boat lay, and Frodo and Sam had disappeared into the trees. "You mean not to follow them."

"Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands," Aragorn reasoned.

"Then it has all been in vain," Gimli rasped. "The Fellowship has failed."

"No. That is not so," Allora protested. "We still stand, Frodo still stands. And yes, our paths may lead in different directions, but we do not lie with the fallen yet, and so long as I stand, so long as I can lift a blade or draw a bow, I will take as many of Saruman and Sauron's wicked creatures down as I can." Her eyes met Legolas'. "For as long as we stand, there is still hope."

The corners of his lips turned upwards as he staggered to believe how much his words had truly helped her as Aragorn came to her side, placing a hand on her back. "You are right," he said. "This Fellowship has not failed. Not as long as we hold true to each other." he then turned to face Legolas and Gimli. "We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left. Leave all that can be spared behind. We travel light," Aragorn said as he reached down and lifted a knife up as he sheathed it and looked to the Lady of the Elves who had a wicked light dance in her eyes.

"Let us hunt some Orc," she grinned, and she followed Aragorn as he went running into the woods, and she didn't have to turn back to know that Legolas was following her just as she didn't need to hear Gimli's battle cry to know that he was following them. For she knew, even before their moment at the waterfall, that Legolas would always follow her, just as she would always follow him.

And now they would follow each other, to first, get their friends back, and then to rid Middle Earth of the dark creatures that plagued it. They would do it, not just for all who resided in Middle-Earth, but for each other, so they could finally be together.