Fireside Chat: The Gondorian
A/N on series: . I'm starting a series of friendship fics called "Fireside Chats", the Fellowship (and maybe some friends) sitting by a fire, exchanging stories and getting to know each other and their cultures better. This is the third I've written, but I havent' rewritten Legolas' story after it was beta'd. Faramir's story "An Evening with Friends" is posted.
A/N: This story is AU; the idea comes from a comment of NiRi's. In this particular story, the fireside chat kept moving further to the back, but I promise it is there. I hope you find it worth the wait. Disclaimer is at the end of the story to allow for better reading.
nautika
The Gondorian
The Gondorian's behavior was growing more and more erratic. At first it was only a source of concern for Aragorn and Gandalf. Eventually, the elf and dwarf ceased bickering long enough to notice. Then, Frodo had become aware something was not right, which meant Sam - always attentive to his Master's moods - had taken note. Merry and Pippin seemed oblivious for much longer than the others to the change in their friend, perhaps because the Man made a greater effort with them, but finally when his responses to them had become grunts, they too had noticed he was not himself.
In truth, being an older brother - something unique to him of all the Walkers - had seemed to stand Boromir in good stead with the varied personalities of the Fellowship. While the rest of them gritted their teeth, mentally sang, recited poetry or whatever each did in an effort not to snap at each other's idiosyncrasies, he appeared completely unperturbed.
Boromir alone seemed unburdened by Sam's somewhat over zealous care of his Master. 'Do you need another blanket, Mr. Frodo?' 'Mr. Frodo has barely caught his breath, cant we rest a while longer?' or by Frodo's growing silence, perhaps exacerbated by his gardener's fussing.
Or by young Pippin's obsession with food, 'Aren't we ever going to have anything new; meat, maybe, or mushrooms? Cram and lembas are getting old.' Or 'We've already skipped second breakfast, don't you think it's only fair to stop for elevensies?' And by Merry's growing attempts to bring Pippin in line. 'They aren't going to stop for your stomach, Pip, give it a rest.' The last ultimately garnered input from the Wizard.
'Yes, spare us your complaints, Peregrin Took. You did ask to come on this quest, did you not? Finding meat and mushrooms takes time better spent walking!' This verbal assault resulted in the youngest hobbit muttering under his breath and kicking up dirt and stones as he went, which made the elf sigh deeply, which triggered another debate between elf and dwarf on the fastidiousness of elves and slovenliness of dwarves. It also caused Merry and Boromir to throw glances at Gandalf that would have withered a lesser being. The wizard had sniffed - somehow conveying the impression he could not be bothered with such inferior opinions - and increased his pace, which had set Sam off again. Strider bit down hard on the stem of his unlit pipe and cursed aloud at the pain he had inadvertently caused himself. This caused Sam to pause only long enough to switch from displeasure at the pace Frodo was having to endure to displeasure at having to listen to such common language from a future king. Strider increased his pace and moved to walk silently alongside Gandalf, leaving Boromir to guard the disheartened Fellowship from the rear.
That night had found Boromir sitting somewhat apart from the group, studying his companions thoughtfully. At one point, the two Men's eyes had met and Boromir had grunted and excused himself to heed the call of nature. Looking back on it later, Aragorn would note that as the time the change had started in the other man.
Initially, Boromir had simply been quieter and somewhat withdrawn from the group. Then he took to dropping behind and nudging rocks with his boot, bending over and inspecting the ground and placing himself so his companions could not see what he was doing. At times, he would pause and suddenly begin digging in the dirt, or on other occasions, seem to be inspecting trees or other plant life.
When Gandalf suggested his stops were beginning to slow them down, Boromir respectfully let the Wizard know that he had not asked anyone else to stop, and that a Warrior of Gondor would have no problem catching up to a group traveling with those of shorter stride.
Legolas had offered to stay behind with him, but this offer had been politely declined, so Legolas had simply dropped to the back of the group where his elven eyesight would enable him to keep watch on the man. Boromir tolerated this for a time, but finally suggested that Legolas would be better utilized guarding the Ringbearer rather than the Captain General. There was little the elf could say to this without offending the man – who was, of course, correct - so now the Fellowship moved uneasily ahead, leaving Boromir behind.
Pippin muttered something about never before having wanted to wear shoes, but how handy would it be now to have a rock in one? Gimli, walking right behind the youngest hobbit, promptly halted and handed his axe over to the elf to hold while he tugged on his shoe and hopped around until he loosened it, declaring the stone in it was turning into a boulder. He was rewarded with a huge smile from Pippin and a sigh from Gandalf that could have been one of approval.
By the time Gimli's shoe was back on his foot, Boromir had caught up to them, and was trying to unobtrusively study the contents of a pouch he'd detached from his belt. When the Fellowship moved on, Boromir stayed with them, and to the relief of his fellow Walkers, exhibited no unusual behavior - other than continuously humming decidedly off key - for the remainder of the day.
Then they stopped for the night. Boromir immediately removed his cloak and spread it just to the edge of the clearing where they would build their fire. He placed his pack on the ground and removed a handful several of small limbs from it and placed them gently across his cloak. During the day, he had gathered them from beside the trail or out of trees where they were caught in branches that still lived. While he had walked Boromir had stripped the dead leaves and other, smaller limbs from them before carefully stowing them in his pack.
Pippin opened his mouth more than once to ask what the man was doing, but each time one of the others caught his attention and shook their head or put their finger to their mouth. To Pippin's credit, he managed to get through the day without asking.
Now, kneeling by his cloak and pack, Boromir looked at the Fellowship, who were all watching him closely while pretending to do something else, and smiled. His companions' hearts eased some at the sight. Maybe neither the stress – nor the Ring - had affected him as badly as they had begun to think.
"I wonder if you might aide me with something."
Curls bobbed as the Hobbits nodded eagerly, but Boromir's gaze rested on the elf, the man and the dwarf.
"How can we help you, laddie?"
"Ah, I thank you, Gimli. If you would each take three of these and whittle them down to about a quarter the size they are now, and place a point on one end, I would be most grateful."
Matching actions to words, Boromir handed three of the sticks to Gimli, three more to Legolas, and picked another three and held them out to Aragorn. Each of the trio accepted them hesitantly.
"Boromir?"
"Yes, Aragorn?"
"These are quite small already. It will be most … challenging to trim them to the size you desire."
"Ah, but the result will be worth it. You will see."
"As you wish then."
"What about the rest of us, Boromir? Is there something we can do for you?" Eager for the return of the old Boromir, Pippin fairly trembled with the desire to do something, anything, to help. "Gandalf, too!"
Gandalf harrumphed, but Frodo smiled softly at him and the wizard returned the smile indulgently. "By all means, Boromir, what service may I perform?"
"Perhaps if you would stand guard, Gandalf, while the Hobbits see to Bill, gather firewood, and set up camp as usual? It will free me for a special task."
"An easy task for an old man. I shall gladly see it done!" If Gandalf's enthusiasm was somewhat forced, no one seemed to notice. The Wizard moved away from the others to a slight rise and lit his pipe, scanning the landscape as he did so.
"That's all? Just set up camp?" Clearly, Pippin was disappointed.
"For now, Pippin, but as Gimli, Legolas and Aragorn finish their tasks, but there will be more to do later."
That seemed to pacify Pippin, who went with Merry to gather firewood, while Sam tended Bill, and Frodo began to collect rocks to place around the fire. Boromir examined the contents of his pouch again and moved to the edge of the woods, still within sight of his companions, where he knelt by an old log and began to dig.
Legolas, sitting between Gimli and Aragorn, dropped his voice low enough so only they could hear. "What think you, Aragorn? Is he well? What are we to do if he is not?"
Aragorn's response was equally soft, he leaned toward Legolas to be sure Gimli could hear as well. "Let us see what he has in mind. Perhaps before the night is out …"
Though he did not complete the sentence, the others understood. Before the night was out, Boromir's actions would either make them feel foolish for doubting him – the preferred outcome – or place them in a position of having to break the Fellowship while it was still in its early days. The idea of leaving a companion behind was unpleasant, but the thoughts of the Hobbits' response to such an action was even worse.
"Aye." Gimli's voice was grim.
The trimming was taking longer than expected. Like all Rangers, Aragorn had a fair amount of experience whittling. The dwarf was handy with all blades, but this was outside his field of expertise. The elf was faring better than the dwarf, having spent most of his life fashioning arrows, but the two finally found themselves in agreement over something other than the destruction of the Ring. Blades were best used for running through enemies, not for pastime activities, especially when one had no idea why one was doing it.
Aragorn finished his first and started on his second. The dwarf had sliced through one and discarded it, hoping Boromir's cache contained extras. The elf was working steadily, but was certain by the time it reached the size Boromir had requested, the stick would be invisible to all save himself.
Focused on their task, they all jumped when a small stone landed at Aragorn's foot. Looking up they saw the wizard give a jerk of his head toward the woods. Looking in the direction he indicated, they saw Boromir. He stood among the trees, snatching at the air and muttering to himself. Occasionally, he would smile, thrust his fingers into his pouch, tie it up, and then return to grabbing air. Their open mouthed stares caught the attention of the Hobbits, who exchanged concerned glances among themselves before Pippin whispered, "He's catching fireflies!"
"No, that can't be it. We'd be able to see their light and there's no lights there, Pip." Merry shook his head sadly.
Feeling the eyes of the Fellowship on him, Boromir shoved his fingers into the pouch a final time, then returned to the fire built by Sam and Frodo.
"Everyone waiting on me?"
"Not precisely. We are curious however. What are you doing, Son of Denethor?"
"Why, catching our supper of course! Pippin has grown weary of cram and lembas, have you not, my young friend?"
"Well…"
"It is well. Tonight, we will feast on kabobs."
"Kabobs? What are kabobs, laddie?"
"Ah, if you'll hand me one of the sticks you've trimmed, I will gladly show you, my friend."
"Well, uh, that is…"
"Here, Boromir. Is this one trimmed to your satisfaction?"
Boromir accepted the stick from Aragorn and examined it. He slid his fingers along it and smiled. "Aye. You have done well. Normally, kabobs are used for cubes of meat and vegetables, sometimes even fruit, but as we need to use only what can be gathered easily en route, these must be smaller. Watch."
As the Fellowship looked on, Boromir began to pull things from his pouch and ease them over the point of the stick, sliding them down to make room for more.
Aragorn's voice was a mere hiss. "What are they?"
Legolas swallowed audibly before answering in the same soft tone; his face had taken on a green shade. "Worms, moths? Aragorn, some of these have traveled in his pouch all day." The elf tore his gaze from the Gondorian's actions and turned it pleadingly upon Aragorn.
Across the camp, Merry and Pippin grabbed each other's arms and all four Hobbits watched from eyes now grown twice their normal size. The Wizard and Aragorn shared a look just before Boromir completed his first 'kabob' and smiled in satisfaction.
"The first one to the Ringbearer? Just hold it over the fire, Frodo so they can cook. It will not take as long as meat or mushrooms."
Frodo, never one to hurt another's feelings, bravely accepted the stick of smushed insects, while trying not to actually look at it. Obediently, he moved toward the fire. Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Aragorn was faster.
"Alas, Boromir, we have failed you. That is the only stick we have completed."
Gimli and Legolas hurried to support Aragorn's words.
"Aye, lad, I can take down an orc with the best of them, but this skill…"
"It was beyond me, as well, Boromir. Forgive me."
It would have been hard to say who looked more distraught, Boromir or Frodo. Everyone in the camp remained quiet and motionless. Finally, Boromir spoke.
"Well, perhaps we could take turns with this one."
Legolas turned a deeper shade of green.
"Unfortunately, it would be quite late by the time the last of us had…eaten. Perhaps we should dine on cram tonight and tomorrow we will rise early and hunt coney and perhaps even bird; and I am sure there is still enough light for elven eyes to find some berries to go with tonight's cram."
Boromir looked disappointed, but rallied enough to say, "Well, if you all think that is best..."
Everyone looked relieved except Frodo, who still knelt near the fire with his 'kabob'.
"Here, Frodo, allow me to help you." Boromir took the stick from the Hobbit, but in moving it from the small hand to the large one, it fell into the dirt outside the fire ring.
"Frodo, I am so sorry. The dirt…I do not see how it can be eaten now."
"It is alright, Boromir. I would not have felt right being the only one to eat it. But it was very…ingenious…of you to think of it."
"Yes, lad, it was an inventive idea. No doubt about it."
Boromir looked somewhat mollified as his companions moved about their regular routines.
Sam removed the cram from his pack and started handing it around, saving Legolas' and Aragorn's out from when they returned from their berry hunt. Before everyone had one of the biscuit in their hands, a retching sound emitted from the woods. Everyone studied their evening meal without comment, but Boromir looked toward where Aragorn and the elf had entered the woods and commented with concern. "I hope Legolas has not eaten an unsavory berry."
xxx
The next morning found the Fellowship seated in various relaxed positions around the fire. The elf seemed no worse for wear after his illness the night before and had accepted his share of the cronies, berries and quail with the same unconcealed delight as the others. The meal was the nearest to a feast they had eaten since Imladris.
Boromir sat with his back against a tree, contentedly watching his companions. "Think you we have time for a small story, Gandalf?"
"If you would rather talk than eat, I will not try to stop you."
Boromir laughed. "I believe you will all appreciate this one. Faramir shares it with his Rangers at least once or twice a year to make sure all have heard it."
"Good food and a good story! I'm ready for that and no mistake!"
Boromir laughed again. "Very well, Sam. The story tells us that a group of travelers came to a small town with nothing but an empty pot. The people who lived in the town would not share any of their food with the strangers, so the travelers built a fire in the center of town, filled their pot with water, and dropped a large stone in it. The villagers became curious and, one by one, came by to ask what the strangers were doing. The travelers explained they were making Stone Soup, and for each villager they named a different ingredient that would improve the taste of the soup – salt, potatoes, carrots, many things – and before long, each family in the town had contributed. They didn't mind parting with just one item in order to satisfy their curiosity about the soup. In the end - because they abandoned their selfishness and cooperated - the villagers and the travelers enjoyed not only a wonderful soup, but each other's company."
When Boromir's story ended, the Wizard snorted.
"What? What does it mean?"
Gimli answered before Boromir could speak. "It means, young Hobbit, that we should all work together. The dwarves have a similar tale, but in ours, an axe is used instead of a stone."
Frodo smiled. "I've never heard that particular story from Bilbo, but I would say it means we should all take care of each other; that no one person is more important than another."
Legolas looked guilty, a look that did not suit the elf. "…And that while perhaps some of us enjoy debating issues, it does not mean everyone enjoys listening to us and that it would benefit us to notice what habits of ours may be annoying our companions."
Sam suddenly seemed to understand what had happened. "And that we should pay attention to what those things are and do something about them.
Merry, of all the company, looked angry. "It means he tricked us! He just pretended to be sick! He never meant us to eat that…stuff! He just did it to get our attention!"
Aragorn's voice was soft, but his eyes held Merry's,"And it is to our shame that he needed to resort to trickery. You see that, do you not?"
Gandalf placed a hand on Merry's shoulder. "And we should be grateful that someone had the sense to do it!"
"So what you are really saying is that Faramir is a smart man?"
Boromir laughed again. "Aye, Pippin. And that I am wise enough to heed him."
Merry and Pippin shoved their plates at Frodo and Sam and lunged at Boromir. The others laughed as the man was forced onto his back beneath their assault, but none laughed louder than Boromir!
End!
Disclaimer: "Lord of the Rings" and "Stone Soup" are not mine. The Fellowship belongs to Tolkien. As for the fable of Stone Soup, I first became acquainted with it while watching an episode of "Land of the Lost" and I found a reference for it (but no one to credit) on Wikipedia. It was also on Wikipedia that I learned the Eastern European version is called Axe Soup. It just seemed perfect for Gimli!