O' weary traveler || lotr ||

27

"Find Frodo! Don't let him leave alone" the dark haired elf yelled to Sam as he made for the forest.

The hobbit nodded in his peripheral vision, still clutching the dagger.

As he ran towards the sound of Boromirs distress signal, he realised with dismay it seemed to have drawn most of the Urak-hai to the solider as well. The remaining few Ithil managed to fend of with his single remaining dagger, he was now far too tired from healing his own wound to use his spear

The wound in his chest ached, but Ithil didn't mind. He knew had he not stopped fighting to check on same he would not have been so much as scrached in a battle like this, not with his elven reflexes. But when he had seen the archer all of his survival instincts had been thrown out the window. That arrow had either been going into same head or Ithils chest, and only one of the those options was healable

As he burst into the clearing he had heard the horn coming from he was greeted by the sight of Aragorn kneeled over Boromir

"Otorno!" he shouted rushing towards the 2 men, Aragorns head snapped up and relief was clear on his face

"Ithil! Quickly come h-" his words stopped abruptly when he noticed the gaping whole in Ithil's chest armour and the crimson blood smeared down his front.

Ithil skidded to his knees next to the dying man, immediately his hands lit up blue

However instead of a rush of power all he felt was immense pain as he watched in disbelief the bright blue flicker and go out, blood drippled from his lip and made him cough as it crawled thickly up his throat.

"NO!" He screamed hoarsely, why was it when it mattered most he was never good enough. Why, when magic had been his only contribution to the fellowship, could he not summon it when it mattered most.

He knew why. He did in his heart, he had expelled too much energy already in just keeping himself alive, yet he tried again in vein to activate his magic.

"Leave it" came the weak voice of Boromir, a dying man Ithil realised with a sob.

A dying man.

A dying friend.

One he couldnt save. Why was he so useless. Why-

He rose from the ground suddenly battling tears as he turned from the dying man and removing the jade necklace he always wore, he did not wish to hear Boromirs last breath.

It wasnt fair

It wasnt right

It-

No. He couldn't think like that, Boromir was dead. But the quest was not... was it? Frodo and sam had almost certainly by now set out. What was left to do?

These thought circuled religously through his brain as the remaining fellowship regrouped back on the coast, it was like he was watching everything through a thick mist.

Legolas pushed the last boat into the water exclaiming something about following the 2 hobbits

Aragorn doesn't react, busy tying Boromirs old arm guard around his  arm.

Ithil slid down onto the sand with a sigh, head in hands.

"Not if we hold true to each other. We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death, not while we have strength left" his brothers words cut through the thick veil settled apon his senses

"Its no use, they'll be too far ahead" he mumbled he closing his eyes tiredly

Aragorn turned to look at him, "My brother, do not tell me now that you of all people do not know some short cut across these lands?"

Ithil blinked. It seemed in the rush he had forgotten just who be was. "i know these lands well, i will get us where ever we need to go"