Chapter 12:
To Stutter like Master Baggins
I charge across the slopes of Amon Hen, paying little mind to the foliage that whips across my face, leaving large gashes in the wake. All I can think of is the hobbit who may already be a victim of Boromir's insanity. I should've watched him closer, reacted on my gut instincts, and taken great strides to prevent this encounter. If only I could turn back the clock...
"None of us should wander alone; you least of all. So much depends on you...Frodo?" Boromir remarks as I come upon the scene with silent footsteps. I lodge myself behind a thick oaken trunk, gazing at the two males who stand to either side of the small area. Frodo looks cautiously at the man of Gondor, as only natural given the past encounters. "I know why you seek solitude. You suffer, I see it day by day. Are you sure you do not suffer needlessly?"
"Let me help you. There are other ways, Frodo...other paths that we might take," Boromir finishes his plea of hidden intention, although both Frodo and I know of Boromir's intentions. In the distance, the wind shuffles between the trees in sync with the roar of rushing water over Rauros falls. It is an idyllic scene of great evil.
"I know what you would say, and it would seem like wisdom but for the warning of my heart," Frodo remarks, having inherited a great intelligence like his Uncle Bilbo. This hobbit will be a great Phoenician one day, as he is already reasonable and instinctual to a prime position.
"Warning? Against what?" Boromir questions earnestly, though it is rhetorical as we all know of what his heart warns against. The man of Gondor anxiously paces towards the small creature who stands as if it'll help him survive an attack. "We are all afraid, Frodo. But to let that fear drive us to destroy what hope we have...don't you seek that is madness?"
"There is no other way," Frodo replies, and honestly at that. Frodo and Bilbo Baggins are the only capable creatures to carry this Ring for such a long time and to a distant place. And given Bilbo's previous adventure and the first turn of fate, it was decided by the rulers of Middle Earth that Frodo Baggins is to be the Ringbearer, without his knowing, of course. It is only for the best, after all.
"I ask only for the strength to defend my people," Boromir yells, throwing his wood to the ground in an evil anger of Sauron's deception. Tears prick my eyes at the scene, seeing how even the greatest men fall to good intention. "If you would but lend me the ring..."
"No," Frodo responds to the plea, moving away from the corrupted Gondorian soldier. It is this action that seemingly returns Boromir to sanity, though a greater observer knows that his smile is but a ploy to get the Ring. Sauron is a master manipulator, even in the body of another.
"Why do you recoil? I am no thief," Boromir exerts with a saddened grin that looks less than genuine. My tears, at this point, begin to fall with the recognition that the man I adore has fallen into shadow. My one true and understanding companion ceases to exist in his right mind.
"You are not yourself," Frodo warily responds, seeing through the plots and maneuvers of insanity.
"What chance do you think you have? They will find you, they will take the ring and you will beg for death before the end," Boromir responds, showing his lack of respect for the small creature. I doubt Frodo would endure any of these things: he'd hide, with the Ring of course; he'd escape, as only natural for a Baggins; and he'd die without a scream, knowing that death may be for the best.
"You fool!" Boromir exclaims angrily as Frodo turns to leave. "It is not yours save by unhappy chance...it might have been mine. It should be mine. Give it to me! Give me the ring."
YOU ARE READING
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...
