Chapter 11:
The Frer-gonath?
The hours of day pass quickly with daydreams and cloud spotting, watching as the sun occasionally peaks its head from the puffy vapors of Mother Earth. In this way, and in great disruption of my peace, sitting up reveals a greater tragedy to my eyes: no longer do we row through Lothlorien forestry, but the Brown Lands of great evil. Indeed, it was here that my mother learned of Azog's plot to end the line of Durin, preceding the great Battle of the Five Armies. In this way, these lands are a reminder of the great work of fate that saved my father and cousins, yet a tragic reminder of our loss of kin.
The river's current brushes us South in a pace faster than walking and running, prompting a great distance to be traveled within each hour. Of course, we will come to the point in which we cannot move any further, but that is a times away at the moment and I take great strength in the relaxation of my tightly strung muscles.
With the entrance into the lands North of Mordor comes the heightened threat of orcish attacks. And thus, I am not surprised when I spot a moving troop of Uruk-Hai in the distance, presumably in tracking of our Fellowship. Switching my eyes around to my brother, his eyes meet mine in recognition, heightened by a nod of the head. We both wear looks of smothered fear, but more poignantly, helplessness. It is best not to tell the others, as we are traveling in the quickest fashion and it will only cause further chaos.
Eventually, with the passing of a dozen minutes, I lose sight of the Uruk-Hai over a step of trodden grasses, not by feet, but boiling heat. Indeed, I find myself sweating in the warmth of the day time, finding no shade in which to hide upon the boat. Honestly, I am tempted to lose my tunic in exchange for my undershirt, but as my father has repeated lectured me, it is "inappropriate" for a woman to do such a thing. Why must I suffer while the men of Middle Earth can relax without shirts?
Huffing out loud with the irritating thoughts of "social conduct," I pay great mind to the circling birds above our head. They are as black as midnight, allowing me to logically conclude that they are not Phoenixes. In addition, given that the birds travel in groups, they bear the identity as neither eagle nor hawk. And thus, I take a less-than-wild guess that they are the Crebain from Dunland, the birds of previous encounter.
This time, Frerin and I are not the only ones to notice the pestilence, Aragorn, Legolas, and Boromir looking from their rowing positions to gaze warily at the birds. I can feel the hope of their hearts drain out with each minute, the great forces of Sauron himself, now closing in. I look to the innocent hobbits of the Shire, partaking in small smiles and laughs. Then there is Ruelin, Frerin, and Cashel, along for the ride and with no fear of demise. Gimli and Legolas take greater comfort in their relationship with each stroke of an oar, and Aragorn daydreams of his kingdom and, presumably, Arwen.
Then there is Boromir, my eyes catching his as I observe my friends and family. He seems content with the passing moments, taking great peace at the current lack of danger upon this mighty river. But that all disappears as he takes notice of my grim expression, eyes slightly teary with no great reason in my mind. His eyes illustrate his concern, and it is all I can do to smile at him with tears glistening in the pockets of my eyelids. It's obviously not enough for him, since I can sense his desire to embrace me and my pain, hindered by his occupation at rowing. And thus, I turn away, as it will not do to wallow in our shared emotions.
The day passes quickly after that, and when I say "quickly," I mean in relation to the morning hours. Each minute feels like an hour, each glance at Boromir, an eternity. How strange is it that I go from despising him to admiring him in a few days time? And yet, I understand him now...I understand his mechanisms, the emotions that make him tick. Boromir is misunderstood in his loyalty to Gondor, a great pity for he might just be the greatest man to walk this earth. But all the same, his loyalty still poses a danger to Frodo and the One Ring.
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Of Dwarves and Men {Boromir/LOTR}
Fanfiction"Now I lay me down to sleep I pray the lords my soul to keep See me safely through the night And wake me with the morning light" ...and though that morning light is but a ghost on the Eastern horizon, it is one onto which we cling. In this dark age...
