"Frodo!" shouted Boromir, "Come back! Where are you?"
He tripped over a log and nearly fell. He was able to stop himself though by clutching a branch on a nearby tree. He composed himself and letting go of the branch kept going, trying to find not only Frodo, but Merry and Pippin as well. His heart was heavy though, thoughts of the recent past scaring him, and he did not seem able to find anything.
He continued walking, and he soon neared a clearing. As he walked, he suddenly was brought back to the present, not even noticing he had wandered off in thought. Indeed, he didn't even seem to know if he had been thinking of anything. Then he heard something that struck him. The grunts and shrieks of hundreds of orcs.
Aragorn was right, he shivered, The orcs are on this side of Anduin, even as he feared. I must prevent them from getting the rest of the company.
Wait a second! I don't have to fight them, he reasoned, I'll just hurry back and get Aragorn and the others. We shall have more chance of fighting them as a group anyways.
But, right as he turned to run off, he heard a high voiced scream of rage. His heart leaped into his chest. The halflings! He thought in horror, then slapped himself on the forehead, "I am Boromir, Son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor. I am a general of Gondor, the greatest man of Gondor even. I must save the halflings!"
He drew his sword and put his shield on his right arm. and raising high his sword bellowed, "Gondor!"
He charged forward, bursting from the trees, whose branches tried to cling to him almost as if to hold him back. Those trees were trying to conspire against me, Boromir thought as his blade cut deep into the flesh of the first unsuspecting orc.
He swung his blade with his massive arm, cutting away at many orcs that tried to turn towards him. Blood flew everywhere as many orcs fell. But, even as he slew the orcs, even more were now rallying against him. Five jumped forward to kill him, but each fell to the fury of Boromir and his mighty sword. The sun flickered red on the blood on the sword of Gondor as it swished through the air.
"Kill the white one!" shouted a particularly large orc, "kill him, you maggots!"
Boromir cut down another orc who got in his way as he continued his advance and the others cowered and began to back off. The large orc jumped forward, waving a scimitar in his hand and bearing a large shield with a white hand. Boromir laughed grimly at the orc and the orc hesitated, not able to comprehend what was funny. It was just enough time and Boromir took off the sword arm with a might swing and even as the orc looked down at his arm which was now liying on the ground, the blade of the sword plunged through his stomach. As he slid off the blade the rest squealed and ran away, throwing down their weapons as they fled.
Boromir looked at the dead bodies and almost gasped. He had killed forty! He didn't even think it had carried on more then five minutes. How did he kill so many in such a little time? He couldn't figure it out, even at the Battle of Osgiliath he had been unable to achieve so much.
"Boromir!" came a high voice, "Thank goodness you came! I had to kill twelve before you got here."
Out came Merry and Pippin who had been hiding behind a pile of dead orcs. Merry had his little sword out and blood was covered all over it. Pippin seemed bewildered at what had just happened. Boromir smiled.
"At least I know how come there are forty dead," Boromir told Merry cheerfully, putting his sword arm around the little hobbit.
"Actually," Pippin said, "You only killed 27."
Boromir laughed. But something disturbed him. Why had Merry and Pippin got out unscathed? They were no warriors. It did not make sense. They should have been killed almost instantly.
"What happened?" asked Boromir.
"They just attacked us," Merry said, "And we fought. But, they didn't want to kill us. They kept trying to grab us with their hairy filthy hands."
"But Merry wouldn't let them," Pippin said proudly, "He cut the hands off of many goblins and killed just as many."
"But, that doesn't make sense," Boromir said, kneeling by one of the dead, "They don't usually take prisoners. Why would they want you?"
He picked up the shield the dead orc had and saw a white hand. White Hand. What did it mean? And the helmet. It had an eleven rune 'S' on it. Sauron? No, not Sauron. Sauron did not allow his name to be written. S…S. Saruman? Saruman had a white hand for his emblem. And, he had a letter S in his name.
It could only make sense. But, why would he want them? Was it really that hard to figure out? He wanted the One Ring, and, Pippin and Merry happened to be hobbits. Just the same as Frodo.
He looked up with sudden fear towards Merry and Pippin and leaped to his feet.
"Back to the group!" he shouted, "Quick!"
They raced forward and suddenly out jumped an orc with a scimitar raised high. Boromir ran him through with his sword and pushed aside the body, which hit the ground with a sickening thud. They kept running, and more orcs jumped out, and they kept getting cut down. But, as they burst out into the clearing, they stopped with terror. On all three sides were orcs, and goblins. They shouted in their fierce language.
One giant orc strode forward and thumped on his chest. "We are the fighting Uruk-Hai. We do not fear the sun. We eat man-flesh. Give us the halflings and your life will be spared, Great Warrior."
Boromir handed his sword to Merry and slowly drew a knife from his belt. "I am a Great Warrior," he said, then as fast as a cat threw his knife.
It embedded itself in his head and the orc fell backwards without a sound.
The orcs all roared then rushed forward in one large mass. Boromir took his sword back and ordered the two hobbits to draw swords and they fought the hordes, cutting down twelve in the fierce fight. Bodies fell and orcs reeled. Boromir's mighty strokes clove deep into the orcs flesh. But, just as quickly as it began, the attack broke off; the orcs running back. Merry and Pippin picked up stones and began chucking them as hard as they could, striking down several orcs in the back.
Boromir watched with despair as they turned and rallied again. Then, he had an idea. Taking the mighty horn from his side, he waited until the orcs charged again before he put it to his lips and blew as hard a blast as he could. Orcs jumped back and clapped their claws over their ears and they hesitated.
But, no help came and the orcs charged again.
"Get behind me!" shouted Boromir, as orcs with mighty scimitars began striking his shield.
He kept cutting and stabbing many, wondering why they were not striking him. They simply seemed to be trying to run past him for the hobbits. By any rate, he ground his teeth, it would take more then that to get the hobbits.
After ten kills, the orcs fled again. But when they were far enough, archers came forward. Huge arrows came forward, and suddenly the shield burst asunder by a mighty hit by an arrow. His arm couldn't move, it was broken.
Again orcs jumped forward. Aragorn, please, come, Boromir silently plead as he blew his horn again. But, in middle of the blast, a scimitar cut it in two, the iron tip falling with a clank on the ground. Again Boromir cut down sixteen enemies, but an orc jumped forward and kicked Boromir against a tree, even as his foot was swept away from the leg.
Arrow after arrow now came, slamming hard into Boromir's body. His arms were getting worn out now, it getting harder to keep swinging his blade. But, each time he thought he couldn't do it again, he would think of Merry and Pippin and new strength would come.
He advanced against the horde in-front of him, blood trickling from his mouth. Three arrows struck him and his body was thrown back against the tree. His head whipped to the side from the impact and he saw Merry and Pippin, looking stunned and almost betrayed. He could see it in their eyes; their fear. Until now they had thought he had been invincible, that Aragorn and he could not be hurt. So had Boromir.
"I'm sorry," Boromir whispered as he jumped forward again, this time getting close enough to cut down three archers.
But, again, he was shoved roughly back against the tree by orcs and even as he slew them, a large orc struck the blade so hard with his scimitar that the blade broke at the hilt. But, Boromir swept the shards of the blade, and the orc crumpled backwards and blood and water flowed from his throat. Then again several arrows struck him. He slid to the ground as his strength finally gave out and orcs raced forward and grabbed Merry and Pippin.
"Boromir! Boromir!" Pippin cried out, "Save us!"
The words pained Boromir. He simply couldn't even stand. As the orcs raced away, leaving him alone, he grabbed an arrow and with an effort pulled it painfully from his chest. He was there for a couple minutes by himself.
He felt the weight of his faliure. He had failed Frodo, he had failed the Company. He was no mighty man. He had even failed to save Merry and Pippin.
Only now did he realize that he had loved the halflings. They had been like children to him. He would never see them again. They were lost, all because he had succumbed to the temptation of the Ring.
"Boromir!" Aragorn called out, crashing through the undergrowth. Andruil seemed to be lit with a fire.
"Nice for you to show up," Boromir teased with a sigh.