Of Dwarves and Men {Boromir/LOTR}

Chapter 28: Free the shoulder

Chapter 28:

Free the shoulder

Having grown up in a dark and evil time, I know that sleep may just be the most important and enlightening of life's aspects. The dreams which we see on a nightly occasion foretell a time to come, whether it's tomorrow or in the infinitely distant future. And then there is the awakening from sleep, due to some natural and kind cause to a hit on the back by my brother. Or, there is the times like this morning, not stemming from an immediate reasoning, but the fluttering of my heart. It is near dawn, but far too early to awaken with no light peeking under my eyelids.

Fluttering eyelashes tickling the tunic of Boromir, my eyes open to lay hold on the early and dark morning. It is less than surprising to see Boromir already awake, his eyes watching mine. And though I wish to believe that he awoke me in his movements, his surprise at being awake eradicates this notion. We are conscious for a different reason and one far more important than sleeping.

I roll myself out of the arms of Boromir, standing gracefully to my feet before grabbing my brother's fur coat from a nearby chair. Slipping it over my shoulders and paying heed to the absence of Ruelin, Legolas, and Aragorn, I make my way out into the hallways. My feet patter soundlessly in my hustle through the halls, but Boromir is far less swift in his motion, making enough noise for me to notice that he is following in my footfalls. Perhaps it is my instincts, but I have a great clue that it is the heavenly force that awoke me and that allows me to find the Fellowship upon the exterior steps of the Golden Hall

I move to the side of my cousin who sends me a lingering and saddened glance, reassuring me that she awoke for the same reasons on this night. Given that her hair is curled out in its bed-headed form, I can only expect that she awoke just before Boromir and myself, following the other two males out onto this night.

As a swift gust brushes through the lonely town, I am grateful for the fur jacket around my shoulders, though the wind seems persistent in trying to take it. Wrapping my arms across my chest and allowing the coat to swing past my calves, I feel Boromir move me tighter into his side, as if knowing that I am cold. I give him a small smile before looking out over Rohan.

The five of us, just few in the picture of mortal life, gaze across the lands of thousands, both man and beast. The Mountains stretch out in dark bands across the horizon, though their darkness holds no comparison to the midnight clouds breaking over their forms. With each gust of wind, their power grows in thousands of footsteps, a mere blink of the eye and we will be overrun by the rain. And yet, the rain is not the fear that stirs my heart, but the enemies that lurk within the deep cloud cover, waiting for the city's borders to strike home and hard. That is how Mordor works, after all: heartless and with the power of cruel thousands.

"The stars are veiled, something stirs in the east," Legolas remarks from Ruelin's other side. My eyes travel heavenly into the deep abysses of what should be divinely powerful. But as all things work with mortal and god, Sauron has a hold over the gods as well. Their relationship with our people, and specifically my people, gives Sauron the ability to use their compassion for his own good. It is this that marks the difference between Sauron and the Valar: while Sauron's sole weakness lies in the metal of a material possession, the Valar is weak from their intimate and kind relationship with the good folks of Middle Earth. And that is why Sauron will lose...no one wins a war over a rock or ring, just ask my father.

"A sleepless malice," Legolas mutters, sending Aragorn a look of worry. This reminds me of the time back at the River Anduin: Legolas pleaded with Aragorn to move on, but to no avail. I think the Ranger King knows better now, his features expressing the anxious fear he holds at heart. "The eye of the enemy is moving."