AUTHOR'S NOTE:I do not presume to know all of Tolkien's works, names, or indeed the languages he created. However, since my first viewing of The Fellowship of the Ring 2002, I have formed my own version of the story with the "destroy the Ring" storyline, though it has taken me a very long time to put it into words that I can take pride in. Most characters remain the same, some are brought in from far places to participate. Some things may seem unlikely or improbable, but I ask that you have patience and just try to enjoy the story simply for the love of reading's sake. We all critique and have our doubts, but we respect each other because the art of writing is a very complex thing. If you have questions, I would be happy to answer them because the last thing I wish for is for someone to be confused, so I will answer in the best way I can to make things clear, even if that means revealing some of the plot line.
Boromir, Haldir, and Grima Wormtongue were always my favorite characters and I wished very early on for them to be given a chance to (possibly?) form a friendship. Some concepts and characteristics still apply while others have to be fiddled with, remodeled, and renewed to create the story that has been brewing in my head for nearly two decades. Thank you for your kindness.
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BORMOR
Countless ages of searching, hoping, and waiting and at last, it had been found.
First news had reached Gondor with an Elven rider on horseback who carried word and request from the Lord Elrond of Rivendell that a host from each of the West countries be present at the meeting in the Elven outpost, which meant that Gondor would be required to offer up its sons. Denethor the Steward who had long guarded the throne until the true king claimed it had asked his firstborn Boromir to travel north and take up a position in his stead at the Council while Gondor's newly reclaimed defenses would be overseen by Boromir's younger brother Faramir. With great reluctance to leave his people, Boromir had eventually given in and the day after the rider appeared in Minas Tirith, he set out on horseback. Not four days into the journey he awoke in the dead of night to find his brother sneaking into his small enclosed camp. Enraged, Boromir had ordered him to return to the capital and a lengthy, fierce argument had followed, but Faramir refused his brother's commands, stating that he had left their city Osgiliath in care of Bereg, a very capable lieutenant who knew well how to hold against the armies of Mordor. And so the brothers had gone north in each other's company, traveling through the spring and summer months, having almost no trouble besides occasional rain storms. When October had almost passed into history they came upon the hidden dwelling of the Elves, arriving in unison with Elves of different realms, Dwarves, and men.
Now as they sat in an almost complete circle around an eloquently carved stone tablet, they recalled the names of those around them whom all had been introduced by Lord Elrond himself. The Elven leader had flowing, flawless brown hair set with a silver headpiece that fit around his mid-forehead, but this was not what struck the others as impressive. It was his demeanor, the power he commanded with his very presence. There was an ageless sense of seriousness in his deep blue eyes. His hands were tucked deep into the folds of his robes as he stood tirelessly overlooking the members of the council.
Boromir and Faramir had met up with their neighboring country's royal family the day before. King Théoden had come in a rich red outfit trimmed with royal green and a cloak, demonstrating his importance but not seeking it out. He was properly disguised as a traveler, though perhaps the brilliant golden color of his hair was too healthy for a beggar. He had left Rohan under the rule of his son Theodred. His sword sat on the floor at his side between him and his nephew Eomer who had much longer hair, slightly darker in color and a harder look about his young face, for he had been the one to seek out Orcs and other fell beasts in his homeland of Rohan. To Boromir's utter surprise Eomer's sister Eowyn had also journeyed this way, a thing unheard of for women in general, but especially for women of the Court. She was not present now, for Elrond had claimed that the words passed at the Meeting were not fit for a woman's ears, but she would be waiting to hear news from her brother and uncle as soon as the council concluded.
Of the twenty of them gathered, Boromir could not remember every name, though the ones he could recall only came to him because their owners gave off an aura that was not quite normal. Of course he already knew Gandalf the Gray, or as his father and people called him, Mithrandir, the wizened wizard who had visited Minas Tirith many times throughout the years. In the back of Boromir's mind he recalled the stooped old man being present during times of great celebration or sorrow, of victory and defeat. The Steward's family knew the grey wizard well and held him in high regard, for Boromir's father told him that Gandalf had seen Boromir's birth as well as Faramir's. Gandalf was present at Boromir and Faramir's triumphs more often than their own father and the only time his absence had been noted was the last reclaim of Osgiliath.
On the wizard's right sat a Halfling, a small being dressed quite humbly who was looking as if he wished nothing more than to sink through his chair and never be seen again under the overpowering command of the Council. Four Elves were seated on Faramir's right and unlike the men and Dwarves, none of them spoke. Three of them had a similar embroidery design on their traveling cloaks but the fourth was garbed in forest green. He had a rather pointed face, but unlike his kin, his eyes were fixed on the Halfling with either great fear or great interest. Elrond had stated his name to be Haldir, lone host to the Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien. On the other side of the four Dwarves sat three more men, two of similar attire to the common traveler, but the last was a sight the likes of which Boromir had never before seen.
His ears were hidden, but Boromir assumed him to be a man, for his hair hung in black curtains around his colorless face. One of his eyes had a slight veil to it, but both were pale blue, almost bright enough to be torches of light in the darkness. His cloth was a black journey piece to his knees where from there patched gray leg wrappings went down to his shoes. There hung an evil-looking gold and black necklace on his breast and the very thing seemed to be sucking the purity and light out of the air. While the Dwarves, Elves, and men leaned away from the man, Gandalf whispered unheard words to him and the man frowned deeper since his face seemed incapable of wearing a smile. His eyes lingered on Boromir for a moment and Boromir felt the sudden need to grasp his sword for protection, though he couldn't say why. The man whose name was Grima Wormtongue was here on Gandalf's invitation as the wizard claimed, but the abnormality the man exuded made Boromir far more uncomfortable than he should have been.
The council members were doing their best to ignore him, but one who refused to stop scowling at him was Eomer who was regarding Gandalf's guest as if he were lower scum than the worst of Orcs or Goblins. Noticing his nephew's expression, King Théoden placed one finger on Eomer's arm.
"The time to convene this Council is now," began Elrond, spreading his arms wide as a symbol of welcome, "To satisfy your thirst for the truth, I shall quench it. Strangers from distant lands, friends of old, you have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. Either you will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom. Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."
The Halfling rose, making almost no difference from when he had been sitting, and ambled forward with his fingers reaching into the depths of his pocket. He extended his hand, no bigger than a child's, and placed an object on the stone tablet. As he drew back a collective silence fell over the Council and each of them locked their eyes on the One Ring, a seemingly innocent and common piece of jewelry. It looked quite ordinary, a regular ring of gold, but somehow it radiated an evil power that Boromir felt working inside of him. He could feel something in his chest pull him an inch or two forward in his seat almost as if he were a fish and the Ring was the fisherman, reeling him towards it on an invisible line. The power in that one piece of gold made a cold shiver run down his nape.
As the Hobbit went to sit down, he passed in front of Grima Wormtongue who made an involuntary movement with his hand, flexing his fingers as if to grasp something. His action did not go unnoticed by Eomer who seemed to be waiting for an opportunity to speak out against him.
"Does your master command you to claim the Ring, Worm?"
"Grima is here on my invitation and I would see him treated with respect, not judged by decisions made for him that were beyond his control," said Gandalf firmly. "I give you this one warning, Lord Eomer: do not let your sense of loyalty to your family and country hinder your ability to befriend a stranger who wishes for peace as much as you."
It seemed that Eomer dare not speak out again when Gandalf looked incredibly foreboding. Grima, meanwhile had said nothing or even looked in Eomer's direction, but rather had focused his gaze on the object of interest.
"Have no doubt; this is the One Ring, Isildur's Bane, and Sauron's greatest yearning," continued Elrond as if there had been no interruption. "It has been carried thus far by Frodo Baggins of the Shire so that we may here decide what to do with it."
"I believe the question is: what is expected of us to do with it?" added Gandalf, his eyes sweeping through the company at present. "There is no mistaking the great Evil stirring in Mordor now that Sauron knows that his greatest weapon has been found. He will send out legions of enemies to claim it and though it is well hidden from prying eyes, Rivendell is not equipped to conceal it from the enemy nor withstand an attack if an army marches this way. We cannot allow it to fall into enemy hands or the world will see no more peace, no rest from tyranny. Ask yourselves, what is the obvious explanation for what to do with it?"
Elrond nodded his agreement. "You have only one choice; the Ring must be destroyed."
"That is quite easy to say, but how is it do be done and by whom?" asked Théoden.
"Where was the Ring forged?" posed Elrond. " Sauron created it inside Mount Doom with the fires originating from its depths and it is there that it must be taken, cast down into the abyss just as it should have been done when it was severed from the Dark Lord's hand. It is in the land of Mordor that the Ring must be taken by one willing to face indescribable peril. It is not a task to be taken lightly by one who would seek to alter their course and stray from the set path. The responsibility shall be given to whoever wishes to commit themselves to the journey, the Ring, and the curse it bears. Be warned, however, that the power of the Ring will be far greater than any mortal force you have ever encountered or heard of. It will seek to deceive you, mislead you, and dispose of you so that it may return to its master. You will be undertaking the most difficult journey if you choose to accept this task and death is a devastating but nevertheless extremely probable outcome. Your fate will be bound to the task before you."
Now a ripple moved through the Council, causing each to stir in his place. They all shared the same thought; which of them would take up the burden? It was not simple, as Elrond had said, but the Ring could not be escorted by anyone. From the rumors of the Halfling's journey, Frodo had had a near death experience carrying the Ring to Rivendell and he was passing through far more friendly country than the new Ring-bearer would have to travel. No, the Halfling could not be allowed to journey on into dangers unbeknownst to all present, even the elderly and wise.
Who, then, would take it? Who would be able to withstand corruption at the figurative hands of the Ring and, in essence, Sauron himself?. On all sides of him Boromir could see no one looking willing to offer himself up for the task, though at the same time none could refuse watching the Ring as if waiting for it to choose its Bearer, someone who seemed strong, but would crumble at the Ring's most opportune moment. On his right Faramir placed two fingers to his lips in thought and then very slowly turned in his seat to meet his brother's gaze. They shared a look of deepest thought, for they knew what the other was rolling over in his mind: their father.
If either of them were to volunteer, what would their father expect of them? Denethor had made it very clear to Boromir before he set out that the Ring could be the very object to save their people from further slaughter, to restore Gondor to its former glory and earn the respect and admiration of Rohan, its ever-stronger brother. The Ring could bring back life to their people, but that was not the reason for Boromir's urge to claim it. His brother had lived in his shadow, always been second best to him, and always had to endure their father's unloving criticism. Faramir was nothing in Denethor's eyes but the cause of his beloved's death, for Boromir and Faramir's mother had passed on to the next world as she brought Faramir into the present one. For this, Faramir had never had the love of his father, which was why he had followed Boromir, to escape their father's wrath, for they both knew that if Faramir had stayed behind, Denethor would have sought out every opportunity to compare him to Boromir and point out his flaws. His brother deserved so much more than what life had given him in place of what their father should have given him. If they took up the burden together, chose the road to probable death and likely failure, but succeeded, Denethor might just come to forgive Faramir for something that his son had never intended.
Boromir did not know whether his brother was under the influence of the same thoughts, but if he made the decision, Faramir would side with him, he was certain. Across from him he saw that Gandalf's eyes were on him, penetrating his very being as if—almost as if—he knew what thoughts were brewing in Boromir's head. He rose slowly from his seat, feeling the eyes of the Council on him and exhaled. His voice did not falter as he trailed his gaze from Elrond, to Frodo, to Gandalf.
"I wish to accept this task."
He thought he saw a shadow of a smile flicker over the wizard's face and then saw utter relief on the Halfling's while Elrond regarded him with a stern raise of his symmetrical eyebrows.
"And what reason do you have that leads you to believe that you are better suited than all who sit here?" asked the Elven Lord and Boromir felt a small twinge of fear. Elrond could foresee certain things; had he seen Boromir's use of the Ring or perhaps Boromir's wish for taking it? He could very well have suspicions that Boromir was acting on his father's behalf and not his own.
"I seek no other use of the Ring than to carry it to its place of destruction. I would not take it for myself or for any other, least of all one who would use it for personal gain," said Boromir, hoping that Elrond read the underlying meaning in his words.
After a moment, it seemed that Elrond appeared satisfied with his answer and the latter then appealed to the Council. "If there are any here who see a valid reason to deny Boromir this quest, let him now speak."
Hope kindled in Boromir's heart as he examined the Councils' faces, all of which were showing signs of surprise and sorrow, but not disapproval. Elrond bowed his head respectively and beckoned Frodo to him.
"If it is well with you, I bid you pass your burden on, Frodo Baggins, to the new Ring-bearer."
Frodo seemed ever so small standing before Boromir as he removed the Ring from the tablet and held it up for Boromir to take, but as he placed it in Boromir's palm, his very form seemed to grow in size. Boromir saw a strong being, one who had not been led astray and one who willingly handed his burden over because he trusted that Boromir would see the task through to the end. The Hobbit had faith in him.
"I would accompany him," said Faramir, standing up to come to Boromir's side.
"Of course, this task cannot be undertaken without companions," said Gandalf, rising more slowly in his old age. "If there are those here who wish to escort the Ring and its bearer, have them step forward now."
As one, Haldir, Grima, Théoden, Eomer, and one of the two men travelers stood up, but the number of supporters did not shock anyone more than Elrond's act of stepping down from his elevated seat and joining the company. Even Gandalf displayed genuine surprise at the Elf Lord's decision.
"Boromir, we pledge here to protect you on your quest as far as we dare go, whether that be one league or one hundred thousand. This company, this Fellowship shall help you achieve this goal, if you are certain that you wish to undertake all the perils the Ring has to offer."
The Ring was heavy in Boromir's hand, heavier than any other of its kind, but not to the point where he could not hold it. The cool metal licked his palm as he closed his fingers around it for the first time.
/ /
Gandalf had bidden that they set off at first light and so with instructions for those in Boromir's company to retire early, he sought more council with Elrond to discuss finer details. Boromir and Faramir returned to their shared abode overlooking the east waterfalls and valleys many miles below the outpost. Here Faramir sat down heavily upon his bed and put his face in his hands. Boromir thought it best to not disturb his brother at the moment and therefore began selecting the items he had brought with him and deciding whether or not to pack them on this new journey. He would most certainly be bringing his faithful sword and shield as well as his horn, but there was little else he deemed necessary to burden himself with. Now that he was to carry the Ring, any additional weight would only hinder him.
The trinket was now strung on a thick silver chain about his neck, hidden beneath his tunic and leather armor. Elrond had presented him with the chain as a more secure way of carrying the Ring to ensure that he always had it close by, for a pocket was a storage compartment of the most unreliable sorts. The golden jewelry piece was still rather cold against his breast and he felt a chill every time it bumped against his bare skin. This was a sensation he would have to grow accustomed to, for the road to Mordor was not an easy or short one and he would spend many days to come with the Ring borne around his neck.
Stuffing his unimportant items away, he strode out of the room, selecting one of the outer balconies to travel as darkness settled in and the cool night air swept through the dwelling. News of a new Ring-bearer had reached many Elven ears, though for his own safety Elrond and Gandalf thought it best to not reveal Boromir's name. Many curious eyes watched him walk by from different alcoves above, on eye level, and below his path and he could not help but feel that they somehow knew that he bore the Ring. He came to a rest at a fountain with a graceful male face as the centerpiece spewing water from its mouth, resting his knuckles on the edge of the basin as he stared down at his reflection in the shimmering mirror.
His vivid hair shaped his face with certain nobility, reminiscent of his father's visage. He alone had inherited Denethor's facial features and personality whereas Faramir was the image of the mother Boromir could hardly remember. His brother…
Had he sealed both of their fates in volunteering himself up for such a deadly task? His intentions were of the best sort: to give Faramir an honorable future and yet both of them could very well be denied the luxury of a future if they did not succeed. Had his inner greed had a hand in his decision making? No, it could not be possible; Gandalf himself had given Boromir the motivation to speak out by way of eye communication. He could not have mistaken that sign at least…
Rather than hearing the sound, Boromir sensed that which was not there to hear and quickly turned, casting his eyes away from his reflection. The Elf Haldir stood behind him, arms at his sides and a passive expression on his face.
"Your reactions are quicker than that of most men I have seen," he commented, observing Boromir with his bright blue eyes.
This was the first time Boromir had heard the Elf speak and was surprised at the silky yet serious quality of it. Most Elves had indifference smoothed over their delicate tones, but there was underlying anger, or so Boromir read, in this one's voice.
"I wish to express gratitude for your decision to accompany my brother and me," said Boromir, nodding his head in respect.
"I would not see the Ring borne south without at least one Elf in accompaniment. You will be glad of my presence."
"Of that I already am. I am grateful to each and every individual who is to escort the Ring into Mordor. I have not had many dealings with Elves, as I understand that you are a primitive and proud folk, but I hope that you will hold no grudge against me on account of whatever my father or people have done."
"I hold no ill will towards your people, Ring-bearer, but I cannot lie and say that I express love towards certain others."
"Are they within the Fellowship?"
Haldir's eyes glistened for a moment and then he shook his head. "No, but nameless individuals within are of the same kin." He had a certain look about him that said that he did not want to discuss the subject any further. Boromir returned his gaze to the fountain, contemplating whether or not to try and strike up some new conversation, but Haldir took over for him. "You doubt your ability to do what is now expected of you." It was not a question.
Boromir knew nothing of this Elf, did not trust him enough to spill out his darkest fears, but somehow he felt calmed by Haldir's presence. The Elf would not judge him like men and Dwarves would. He nodded somewhat hesitantly. "I doubt my ability to complete my task and also protect my brother."
"It is for your brother that you seek to complete the task, is it not?" asked Haldir knowledgeably. "You have wisdom beyond your years and it is for the very reason that you say you are not capable that I believe you, for one who is too confident in himself does not see the dangers that lie ahead. You are well chosen to be the Ring-bearer, son of Gondor."
"How can you be so certain when you know so little about me? How can you have so much faith in me when I keep none for myself?"
"I am your follower and companion now and therefore I must put my trust in you if I am to survive. My loyalty is not easily swayed and I do not make hasty assumptions; what I say is what I believe to be true and what Lord Elrond and Gandalf know to be true: you have promise."
"The Elves are not capable of dealing out lies, Boromir," said a new voice, that of King Théoden's as he arrived at the fountain and trailed two of his fingers in the still waters. Boromir bent forward at the knees to show his respect towards the king, but Théoden touched his head tenderly with his hand.
"In essence, we are family in brother countries. I do not wish you to bow before me, for I am someone of no consequence in comparison to the one who bears the Ring. I would first bow to you before I were to expect such respect again. You must do me this honor of treating me as your equal, along with my nephew and niece."
"The Lady Eowyn will be staying behind in Rivendell?" Boromir guessed.
"This perilous journey is not hers to take. I believed the road to this Council to be manageable for her, though I thoroughly expected that we might have to part ways. I have her word that she will take my place as high ruler of our people if Eomer and I are to fall during this quest. She will remain here until I send word for her that the roads are clear enough for her to travel home and even then she will go with an escort."
"Is she not capable of wielding a sword?"
"She is very capable, though the act is frowned upon. She insisted at a young age of learning how to use reliable weapons and I taught her with equal enthusiasm, though few know of her abilities. She is, perhaps, not as learned as her brother, but she has the same determination that has long guided our people and unlike her brother, her heart is open and willing to accept nearly everything or anyone in."
"Indeed, I took note of how Eomer was quick to pounce on Grima's actions."
"It is because of where the man comes from and whom he serves, not who he is, but alas, the first two factors are what make him who he is, which is why it is so difficult for my nephew to control his anger. You know that since Gandalf has arrived in Rivendell Saruman has begun to attack my borders and Eomer cannot bear the shame of being so far north when our people are in need. He openly demonstrates his hate for Saruman, and Grima Wormtongue does not lessen his emotions by being here."
"What reason is there for that?" asked Boromir and only when the king and Haldir gave him similar looks of astonishment did he realize that he had missed a vital bit of information from Gandalf.
"Have you not wondered why Grima is here on Gandalf's invitation?" asked Théoden. "He was only allowed this far north and indeed, into Imladris, because of Gandalf's good graces. Grima Wormtongue was raised under the cruel white hand of Saruman from a very young age when he was taken from his home. His father Galmod had displeased Saruman who demanded payment, being Grima. Saruman taught him all he knows and though Gandalf may think that he is to be trusted, the rest of us have our doubts. I do not scorn him for his father's mistake, but I am wary of him, for it would be much like Saruman to plant a traitor in our midst."
"How would Saruman have known that we were convening the Council?" asked Haldir plainly. "I do not know how Gandalf managed to pry Grima from Orthanc without Saruman knowing, but I believe that Grima is doing his best to act on his own free will and lend aid to the Ring-bearer. He could have easily slunk away and returned to his master to report news of a Fellowship bound for Mordor with the Ring of Power in hand, but he chose to accompany us, which does not strike me as something that a spy would do."
"The white wizard is crafty, my friend, and he will know how to manipulate us one way or another, be it by Grima's hand or not."
"How is it that the two of you know this, but I do not?" asked Boromir inquisitively.
"Gandalf informed us all of his guest before you and your brother joined the Council," Théoden explained.
Boromir felt a twinge deep within him of hurt. He had not often felt this emotion, for he had always pleased his father and therefore never earned disdain unlike his poor brother, but the fact that Gandalf, who had encouraged him to take action, did not see fit to tell him that Grima Wormtongue was a man under Saruman wounded him. Did Gandalf deem the information unimportant or irrelevant or did he just not trust Boromir with it?
As if in answer to his question, Gandalf suddenly appeared beside Théoden, leaning heavily on his twisted brown staff. He held out his arm, beckoning Boromir to him. "Come, I have much to explain to you before we set off at dawn and this is for your ears alone. Privacy is not something that will be granted to you on the journey, so we had best speak now."
They left Haldir and Théoden at the fountain, walking deeper into the outpost until the sounds of laughter and song had all but faded and there were no more eyes to be seen anywhere. Gandalf sank down onto a stone seat, laying his staff across his lap, but Boromir remained standing, watching the wizard with some resentment.
"You wonder why I did not tell you," Gandalf said softly, with eyes closed. Boromir made no reply since this was indeed what he had been wondering. Gandalf continued, "It was for a greater reason than you could know, but I will tell you this; your heart is not as quick to judge as many. When you first sat down within the Council, your eyes were drawn to him, not out of hatred, but out of curiosity while a majority of the others only regarded him with hate and resentment. You did not know anything about him other than his name and therefore, you did not seek to evaluate him. Your ignorance was your blessing, for you made no comment against his joining of the Fellowship, in fact, you willingly accepted the offer, but if I had told you who his master was beforehand, you might have had a change of heart for the worse and rejected him. Even now, as you process the truth about this man, you wonder if Saruman placed him in our company as the Ring-bearer's undoing, but you still kindle hope that Grima will side with us in the end. It is for that reason that I did not tell you."
"You say that my heart is not quick to judge. Haldir spoke of how I was well chosen to bear the Ring. Both of you speak of greatness which I do not think I have. I am well trained in the art of combat and I know of the history of this world, but I am nothing special. I am just one man rebelling against Sauron's evil. I do not seek praise for my decision, nor do I wish for special treatment. The reason that I do this is so that there may be equality in my family and addressing me as if I was a sort of king and leader among men is not helping my cause."
"We are not trying to make you into a champion, Boromir; we are simply trying to help you realize your own strengths."
"If I have any…"
"If you had none, no one would have stepped up to join you in your journey. Take note that a king, a lord among Elves, and a member of the Dunedain race have joined with you."
"The Dunedain?" asked Boromir. "I believed that race to have ended long ago."
"Aragorn is an exception."
The name stirred something in Boromir's memory, though he could not quite place it. He supposed that the stranger clad in travelling attire was this Aragorn. Casting the thought of a dead race aside, he considered Gandalf's words; great beings had willingly offered up their protection for him because of some strength he radiated and that was as comforting of a thought that it was possible to have.
"I suggest you take rest now, for first light comes early here and we must be ready to leave well before that."
Faramir was lying on his back, staring up at the arched ceiling when Boromir returned to their room. He gazed out their window, watching a night bird swoop through the view. The almighty yet calming roar of the waterfall could be heard in the distance.
"It is not for glory, or even the chance to defeat Sauron that you chose to take the Ring, is it?" asked Faramir, looking at him with an all-knowing expression. "Lord Elrond may have seemed satisfied with your answer, but I know you too well, brother."
Boromir was not about to tell Faramir the real reason behind his motivation, for he would see the world crumble, see Gondor come to ruin if only to ensure that his brother would earn their father's love, for living a life of emptiness was not worth living, even if it was without fear from the evil stirring in the West.
"Rest while you are able, brother," said Boromir and then lay down, turning away from his brother while the Ring pressed against his skin.