CHAPTER 1

The Horn of Gondor: its voice was said to never go unheeded if sounded in need within the realm of Gondor of old.

And yet Boromir, overwhelmed by Uruk-hai warriors at the foot of Amon Hen, saw no end to their numbers. They kept coming relentlessly. We fought valiantly to safeguard the hobbits, Merry and Pippin, from capture and from our own annihilation.

"Get behind me!" Boromir shouted at me. I knew why. He was trying to protect me, as usual, even though I had some experience with a sword and he knew it. It was because I was a female, in need of protection. He'd already made me take his shield, despite my objection. I found it ungainly and difficult to fight with, but he'd insisted, and there was no time to argue. Swarms of Uruks came at us from all sides. He hacked away tirelessly and expertly, while I watched his back with my own sword, the hobbits cowering behind both of us while we awaited help.

I'd met Boromir in Rivendell months prior, at the secret council called by Lord Elrond. We both swore our services to Frodo Baggins, the Ringbearer, on the quest to destroy the Ring of Power, along with several others: the hobbits, Merry, Pippin, and Sam; Gimli son of Gloin, whose father had accompanied Bilbo Baggins all those years ago and defeated the dreadful dragon Smaug; Gandalf the Grey, the wise wizard and unsaid leader of the Fellowship; Legolas Greenleaf, son of King Thranduil and the most amazingly talented archer I'd ever seen; and my dear friend Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to throne of Gondor, and one of the most honorable men I know.

But throughout our journey and battles which ensued, I was drawn to Boromir. His green eyes and fair hair tried to betray his masculinity, but his broad frame made one think twice. He was brave and strong and noble, though we could all tell the Ring held sway over him. But I could understand the tough position he was in.

His father, Denethor, was acting Steward of the throne of Gondor, as his father had been before him, ever since the absence of the rightful king, Isildur. Denethor looked to his eldest and favorite son to help restore the failing kingdom and set things right, his people losing hope. Whenever he'd speak candidly with me, softly in the cool nights by the fire while most of the others slept, I could see the weight on his shoulders. It was in his eyes, and the way he would talk about his beloved White City, the Tower of Ecthelion glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, its banners caught high in a morning breeze. I was soon sure I was in love with this man. I would've followed him into the very fires of Mount Doom.

And the day he tried to take the Ring from Frodo, the day of the breaking of the Fellowship, was also the day I almost lost him.

"Stay back!" Boromir insisted when I got a little too cavalier for his liking, striking down an Uruk-hai carrying a crude excuse for a sword as he approached Boromir's left flank. We fought off wave after wave, until a sharp whistle of an arrow rang out through the trees, and an Uruk with a massive bow appeared, a white handprint painted on his face. Before I had realized what was going on, Boromir recoiled with a savage arrow embedded in his chest.

"No!" I screamed, rushing to him as Merry and Pippin looked on in horror. He wore an expression I can only define as disbelief, as he didn't give up the fight and kept on trying to protect the hobbits and me. Another whistle, but this time I was able to deflect it at the last minute with the shield. Boromir fell to his knees, evidently tired and gasping for breath. Merry and Pippin, seeing the hopelessness of the situation, made a final charge at the orcs closing in on them. They were easily overtaken and swept off into the rabble. Things were not going well. Now that they thought they had what they needed, the remaining orcs passed us by, leaving us to be finished off by the leader.

I stood defiantly between Boromir and the huge Uruk-hai, sword and shield in hand. He towered over me, nocking another arrow a mere 5 paces away.

"Run, Calendiel," Boromir begged from behind me.

"No." I said stubbornly.

"Then you shall die as well, she-elf!" The Uruk growled, drawing his bow. Thoom! Out of nowhere, a dark blur rushed the orc, causing the arrow to fly off harmlessly somewhere. Aragorn swung at him, but the Orc countered and hit Aragorn in the face with the hilt of his sword, knocking him back and dazing him a bit. As he got up, the Uruk flung a shield at him, pinning him by the neck to a tree. He was able to free himself just in time as the Orc took a swing at his head. Aragorn struck back, and managed to completely chop off his right arm and run him through the gut. The Uruk-hai merely snarled and tauntingly pulled the sword in deeper. Fed up with this fight, Aragorn dislodged his blade and swung hard at his neck, beheading the leader and thus ending the battle.

He sighed and staggered over to where I cradled Boromir in my arms. Legolas sprinted into the clearing, Gimli trailing behind.

"They took the hobbits," Boromir said with a shiver, "I've failed them. I failed all of you."

"No, Boromir. You fought bravely." Aragorn surveyed his wound. "Now don't speak." I watched his face as he examined him, looking for signs. The diagnosis didn't look good.

Aragorn raised his eyes to meet mine. "He needs elvish medicine. Even if I can successfully rid him of the arrow, it's likely poisoned."

"We're two days from Lórien! Can we make it in time?" I asked, fearfully concerned.

"He's strong so it's possible, though we would surely lose the hobbits if we took the time to travel back upriver."

"I'll go. I will take him. You three go after Merry and Pippin," I decided.

"No, Calendiel, I cannot ask this of you. I'll take him, you'll be safer with Legolas and Gimli," Aragorn tried to convince me.

"You're not asking, I'm insisting. And who knows what resistance you will encounter trying to rescue them. They'll need your sword. I'll keep Boromir safe." He seemed unable to compete with my logic, and finally nodded.

Legolas and Gimli lashed together a litter while Aragorn and I attempted to remove the arrow from Boromir's chest. It seemed largely successful, as Aragorn was confident it hadn't struck any major organs or arteries. I assured him I would be able to make a dressing on my own, thinking they should probably be on their way. He agreed, and drew me into a long goodbye embrace. "Don't forget to use athelas whenever you change the bandage. And...take care of yourself, my friend. 'Til we meet again. Namárië."

"Na lû e-govaned vîn, Aragorn. Namárië." I also said my farewells to Legolas and Gimli, before they all set off at a trot, chasing the trail the Uruk-hai had left behind. When the forest had grown silent again, I turned my attention back to my dear Boromir, kneeling beside him.

"You should have gone with them," he said, downtrodden. "I've caused enough harm. I dissolved the Fellowship with my lust for power."

"No, Boromir. Don't think like that." I softly stroked his cheek with my thumb and brushed a bit of his messy hair from his eyes. "It'll all turn out alright in the end. Trust me. Now I need to apply a bandage, so I'll have to remove some clothing." He sighed and nodded reluctantly. Ever so gently, I unhooked his outer garments and armor. Removing the maille shirt proved most difficult, and he kept inhaling sharply with every movement. "I'm sorry," I said, "I'm trying not to hurt you."

"It's alright," he replied softly with a wince once he was free of his chainmaille. I toiled at untying his last shiny burgundy tunic, anxious about what the puncture wound would look like. When at last the shirt was folded back I had to stifle a small gasp. Not only because the arrow wound looked ghastly and drenched with blood, but also because the rest of him looked...quite good. He had that strong, rugged quality that most male elves I knew lacked. I tenderly washed away blood with cloth fragments Legolas had collected for me. I could feel Boromir's eyes upon me while I worked, and finally chanced a fleeting look at him. He met my gaze, and I thought he might have noticed my enjoyment of being so close to him. "Thank you," he said in barely a whisper and with a look in his eyes I'd never before seen, "for saving my life."

My face flushed reflexively, and I averted my eyes. "You're welcome. It was the least I could do. You've saved mine on many occasions already. You always watched out for me. Now it's my turn." I kept wiping blood, until he clasped his hand to mine and held it to his chest. I looked up at him again, waiting for him to speak, but his expression changed and he released my hand.

I heard it, too. Something was slowly meandering through the woods. "A horse!" I jumped up and rushed off in the direction of the noise. There, munching on some grass in a clearing, was none other than Bill the Pony, whom Aragorn and Sam had set free before we entered Moria. He seemed happy to see a familiar face, trotting over to me. I gave his muzzle a rub and led him back to Boromir.

"Is that Bill?" He asked, astonished at our stroke of good fortune.

"It is indeed! At last, a lucky break." I tied him to a tree near us, and finished up with Boromir's bandage and redressed him. "We should be going if we're to cover any kind of ground today. We shouldn't both ride, I'm not sure Bill can carry both of us." He agreed, and I helped him up onto the horse's back. He of course had no saddle or reins, which made it difficult for Boromir to stay upright. He was already weakened considerably, and fell off once and nearly a second time before I decided to chance it and ride double. I leapt up behind him and was able to use one arm to hold him up while grabbing some mane with the other. It was still slow-going. I didn't want to push the pony too hard, with both of us riding. Still, it was faster than dragging him all the way to Lothlórien myself.

As the sky began to darken, we stopped for the night beneath an outcropping of rock which created an overhanging nook. After helping him down from the horse and laying him against a rock, I built a fire and set up camp. We ate a bit of lembas bread and a few slices of cured meat, then rested by the fire. He'd taken on a slight pallor during the day's ride, and was covered in sweat. I wiped it away from his forehead and asked how he was feeling.

"Cold," he said with a shiver. I nestled close to him to share my warmth, and wrapped us in a blanket.

"Any better?" I asked, tossing an arm around his shoulders.

"Y-yes." He glanced at me then, still shivering a bit, but a weak grin had appeared on his face. I loved when he smiled. And yet I blushed, guessing what he was grinning about. "I finally get you alone out here in the wild, and I'm too weak and wounded to do anything about it."

I giggled and hid my face in his shoulder. "Boromir…" I peeked up at him.

"I'm glad to be here with you, Calendiel, though I wish it was under better circumstances. But no matter what else happens...If I don't make it, I want—" I held a finger to his lips.

"No. There'll be none of that, you'll be alright. I'm going to get you to Lórien. You'll be safe there." I looked in his green eyes, lost in thought. He moved closer, wincing, but ignored the pain enough to press his lips to mine. I melted into him, brought my hand up to his bristly chin, and eagerly kissed him back. When he at last reluctantly pulled away, he was smiling faintly, his eyes half-closed.

"Now sleep, my dear Boromir. Rest. We've yet a ways to go tomorrow." I sat up a little against the rock, to put my arm around his shoulders and lay his head on my breast.