Damn, I'm really sorry for the massive wait for this chapter. Thank you for all the reviews and faves. The last few months have been crazy busy with dissertation work and I've barely had a moment to write any fic. I found a free afternoon today, however, and finally got this update finished. It was giving me a lot of trouble and rightly so! Yet another evil cliffhanger to add to the pile, muhahaha… All credit for the dialogue in the final scene goes to Peter Jackson.
The good news is that Book One of this fic is now complete. Each book will consist of six chapters and will focus on different groups much like the books, so if your favourite character isn't getting much attention they will probably pop up in the next section. And I'll be finished for Easter soon and able to write a bit faster. Yay!
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The first pale tinges of sunrise were glimmering upon the surface of Nen Hithoel when Legolas awoke. At first he did not notice that anything was amiss, but as he carefully stepped among the sleeping figures of the Company he felt that something was wrong; the campfire had burned very low. Aragorn had failed to keep it stoked during the night.
Legolas bent down and threw the last faggot upon the fire. His sense of unease grew as he approached the shore where the ranger had been keeping watch. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight before him. There resting upon a rock and glinting in the weak sunlight was Aragorn's elven brooch. It sat upon a folded piece of parchment which fluttered lightly in the breeze.
Legolas took up the note and read it in disbelief. He had certainly had his misgivings about the ranger since their conversation by the Silverlode, but he had not expected this. It had never occurred to him that Aragorn might leave the Company. Legolas remembered the black shapes he had seen upon the eastern shore and became very worried. No warrior, not even Aragorn, could have hoped to take them all on by himself and live to tell the tale.
Legolas lowered the note and looked across to the eastern shore; he rested an anxious hand upon the hilt of one of the knives at his belt. He could not see anything amongst the thick tangle of trees which covered the slopes of Amon Lhaw, but he imagined that he could hear distant cries and the clash of weapons. How he wished to go and help his friend! But he knew that he could not leave the Company unguarded a second time. He had to respect Aragorn's wishes.
Legolas felt helpless as he stood upon the bank. When the sun began to peer over the horizon Legolas knew that Aragorn was not going to return, and turned aside to rouse the others with a heavy heart.
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Frodo was the first that Legolas gently shook awake. The hobbit groaned as he cast away his blanket. Early sunlight now filled the lawn where they had made their camp, and nearby a little spring ran down the gentle slopes of Amon Hen and trickled away into the trees with a soft murmur. Frodo pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked up at Legolas' troubled face. Nearby Sam stirred and turned over, pulling his own blanket closer.
"What is it?" Frodo asked. "What has happened, Legolas?"
"It is Aragorn," the elf answered sadly. "He is gone. He left in the night."
Suddenly Sam opened his eyes and sat up in alarm.
"He's gone?" he cried. "What do you mean Strider has gone?"
Legolas turned to the hobbit with a frown. Sam's words soon woke the rest of the Company. Legolas stood up and waited for them to calm down a little.
"Aragorn has gone?" asked Gimli. The dwarf had climbed to his feet by now, and one hand was upon his axe in readiness. "Are you sure? He might have left to wander the shore."
"No," said Legolas. "No, he has left us, Gimli. He has taken his pack and weapons. He is gone."
"Do you know where he went?" asked Merry.
Legolas nodded.
"He left a note." The elf still held the parchment and elven brooch in his hands, and slowly he unfurled the note and cast his eyes over it again. "I have left for the eastern shore," Legolas read aloud. "The passage to the Emyn Muil will not be safe unless I draw away Sauron's forces. If I do not return by sunrise then you may assume the worst and go on without me. Nothing must endanger Frodo's quest."
Legolas quietly lowered the note.
"Aragorn has left?" asked Boromir in disbelief. "Then who is supposed to lead this Fellowship in his absence?"
Legolas folded the note again.
"Aragorn spoke with me back in Lothlórien," said the elf. He did not meet Boromir's gaze. "I did not understand the significance of his words then, but it is clear to me now that he wished for me to lead us on. We pored over many of the maps together at Rivendell and I believe I can find the way to Mordor at need."
"But Aragorn swore to lead this Fellowship," said Pippin. "He cannot just leave us, can he?"
"Aragorn felt guilty for looking in the Lady's mirror," said Legolas. "Obviously he wanted to keep the rest of us safe. He must have believed it was the only way."
"And he thought that sneaking away was the answer?" Boromir said angrily. "He has abandoned this Company and condemned himself to death!"
"That is enough, Boromir," said Gimli. He noticed the hobbits were becoming frightened. His hand tightened upon his axe. "We do not know whether Aragorn still lives. He may yet return to us." The dwarf cast his eyes around at the Company. His hand fell away from his axe. "While Aragorn is gone this Fellowship lacks a leader. We must respect his wishes and carry on without him. For my part the choice is clear." He moved to stand proudly next to Legolas, both hands resting upon his axe. "Who else wishes for Legolas to lead us in Aragorn's absence?"
Legolas smiled and put a hand upon Gimli's shoulder in thanks. All eyes now fell upon Frodo. The hobbit did not say a word, but stirred and went to stand with Legolas and Gimli. Boromir watched in disbelief as the hobbits followed Frodo one-by-one. He looked as though he wished to protest, but quickly realised the futility of it and shook his head.
"Then I guess I am defeated," he said quietly. "So be it! This Company shall be led by Legolas, and I will journey with you as far as I may until my road turns towards Gondor."
At his words the others visibly relaxed. The soft murmur of the spring filled the camp again. Frodo shivered and wrapped his cloak tighter about his shoulders.
"The trees of Amon Lhaw are burning," said Gimli.
They all turned and followed his gaze. Thick smoke was drifting into the sky above the eastern shore; a fierce glow could be seen lighting the trees. All was utterly quiet as the Company watched the fire consume the wood before their eyes. Slowly Boromir lowered himself disbelievingly onto a nearby rock. Frodo stared across at the eastern shore with a look of complete desperation. Sam rubbed the hobbit's shoulder comfortingly. Nobody spoke for a long time.
"What do we do now?" asked Boromir. His voice was very quiet.
"I do not know," Legolas said. "But we should not sit here and despair. There is nothing we can do now."
Boromir nodded solemnly.
"The North Stair is not far. It is the only portage-way past Rauros. The eastern shore is not safe. The River can be crossed at the foot of the falls, but it is a difficult journey." Boromir paused and then spoke haltingly: "We should go to Minas Tirith. It is the safer road. From there we can regroup and strike out for Mordor from a place of strength."
Legolas sighed. He knew that another difficult decision was now upon them. He turned to Frodo and said: "It is for the Ring-bearer to decide. We can only advise him which route to take - it is up to Frodo to choose our path."
Frodo did not answer him at once. He clutched at his cloak and avoided the intent gaze of the others. Finally he said: "My mind has been troubled for many days. I would like some time alone to make a decision about our road."
"Of course," Legolas said gently. "But keep in mind that time is pressing upon us, Frodo. You may take an hour to yourself. Do not wander far."
Frodo nodded and quietly turned away. Sam watched him anxiously as he passed away into the trees at the foot of Amon Hen. He knew that nobody could help Frodo now. He had a very hard decision to make and he must make it alone. Sam thrust his hands in his pockets and sat down upon a log, feeling quite useless.
Legolas advised the others to ready their packs. Then he walked over to the fire and put out the fading embers, scattering the ashes with his boot; Boromir frowned when he saw that they had run out of faggots.
"We shall need more firewood," Boromir said, taking up his pack. "The land around Rauros-foot is marshy. We will not find any dry kindling there." He made to pick up his shield, but then lowered it again and turned to Legolas. "I will go and collect some firewood. I shall also fetch Frodo when he is ready to return."
Boromir quickly disappeared into the wood. Legolas watched him go for a moment. The roaring of Rauros could be heard faintly in the distance. Behind him the others were busy packing their things; Gimli was fetching some water from the spring. Soft footsteps sounded behind him. Legolas turned and found Pippin before him.
"What about Aragorn?" the hobbit asked. "Should we wait for him in case he returns?"
Sam and Merry stopped what they were doing and looked across at Legolas expectantly. The elf smiled softly and put a hand upon Pippin's shoulder.
"Yes," said Legolas. "Yes, we will wait a little longer in case he comes back, Pippin. But we must be gone by noon at the very latest. We cannot linger."
The hobbit seemed comforted by these words and soon turned away to help the others. Legolas, however, stood motionless for a long time, his eyes fixed upon the burning trees of the eastern shore.
XXX
Frodo wandered aimlessly through the wood, his heart heavy with guilt. The murmur of the little stream gradually faded into the distance as he approached the tree-clad slopes of Amon Hen. The ruins of a faded road wound a steady path here, leading him up steep stairs which had been cut into the hillside long ago.
Frodo had wished to leave the Company. He had been screwing himself up to the task for many days, ever since they had left Lothlórien. Now that Aragorn was gone, however, he did not know what to do. He had been counting upon the ranger to look after the others when he left. How he could leave now after the sacrifice that Aragorn had made for him? How could he willingly walk alone to his doom?
The distant call of a bird greeted the hobbit as he climbed the slopes and emerged into a small clearing blanketed in dead leaves. A huge rock was lying here beneath the trees, hewn into the shape of a face; the remnant of some ancient colossus now heavily cracked and weathered. Frodo approached it with slow steps, feeling utterly and hopelessly lost. With a sigh he settled down upon the crumbling rock face with his head in his hands; soon he had stretched himself out upon it with his hands folded beneath him. He lay still for a long time looking out upon the forest with unseeing eyes. The hobbit wanted to cry but no tears would come.
Frodo wondered if it was the madness of the Ring driving his friends to such ends. First Gandalf had stayed behind to slay the Balrog and fallen to his doom; now Aragorn had sacrificed himself to keep the Company safe. They had all been driven to desperation to safeguard not only the Quest but his own life. Was he really worth all this death?
Slowly Frodo reached to his throat and pulled out the Ring upon its chain. He could feel it as a growing weight about his neck as he brought it to rest in the palm of his hand. His feelings of guilt began to subside as he gently stroked it with his thumb. Here was Isildur's bane; the cause of all of this death and destruction. How could it be so? It was such a little thing.
The sound of footsteps grew in the distance. Frodo put the Ring away in alarm and sprang to his feet, sensing unfriendly eyes upon him. Suddenly Boromir appeared from the trees ahead, carrying a stack of firewood in his arms. He noticed the hobbit and gave a kind smile.
"None of us should wander alone," he said. "You least of all." He bent down and picked up another piece of wood. "So much depends on you." Frodo gave him a stern look. Boromir straightened again with a frown. "Frodo?"
The hobbit did not answer. Boromir came a little closer and halted a few steps before him.
"I know why you seek solitude," he said. "You suffer; I see it day by day. Are you sure you do not suffer needlessly?" Frodo remained quiet. Boromir's voice became eager. "There are other ways, Frodo. Other paths that we might take."
"I know what you would say," said Frodo. "And it would seem like wisdom but for the warning in my heart."
"Warning?" asked Boromir. "Against what?" He approached the hobbit again, but Frodo carefully stepped around him and started in the other direction. Boromir turned and followed him, forcing Frodo backwards in his steps. "We're all afraid, Frodo. But to let that fear drive us to destroy what hope we have… Don't you see that is madness?"
The hobbit caught the strange gleam in Boromir's eyes.
"There is no other way."
Boromir was now trembling with suppressed excitement. He strode forwards and spoke ever more loudly. "I ask only for the strength to defend my people!" he cried. Suddenly Boromir threw the firewood at his feet. He held out a hand and came forwards again. "If you would but lend me the Ring…"
"No," said Frodo sharply. He took a step backwards in alarm.
"Why do you recoil?" Boromir said. "I am no thief."
"You are not yourself," said Frodo.
Boromir did not take his eyes from the hobbit. His voice became softer and filled with menace.
"What chance do you think you have?" he cried. "They will find you. They will take the Ring! And you will beg for death before the end!"
Frodo turned and began to walk away.
"You fool!" Boromir shouted. He suddenly strode towards Frodo with frightening speed. Frodo broke into a run. "It is not yours save by an unhappy chance!" cried Boromir. "It could have been mine! It should be mine! Give it to me!" His voice was now wild with anger. Suddenly he seized a fistful of Frodo's cloak and pulled the hobbit towards him, driving him roughly to the ground. His hands groped for the Ring; a raging fire was in his eyes. "Give it to me!" he cried.
"No!" Frodo struggled against him desperately, clasping a hand about the Ring upon its chain at his neck. Suddenly the hobbit gave a cry and vanished. Boromir gasped and drew back, startled. He was knocked roughly to the ground as Frodo leapt blindly to his feet and sprang away up the hill in terror.
Boromir rose angrily to his hands and knees.
"I see your mind!" he cried. He turned and cast about frantically, searching for some sign of the hobbit. "You will take the Ring to Sauron! You will betray us!" His voice was filled with venom. "You go to your death and the death of us all!" Boromir rose to his feet, shaking with anger. "Curse you! Curse you! And all the halflings!" Even as he spoke his foot caught upon a hidden root. Roughly he stumbled and fell upon his face.
The wood grew still. Only the soft crunch of leaves remained as Boromir staggered slowly to his feet. The strange gleam in his eyes had faded and only fear remained. Dead leaves were caught in his hair as he looked about frantically; his face was filled with anguish as he took his first faltering steps up the slope.
"Frodo?" he cried. His yell was quickly swallowed up in the empty wood. There was no answer. He felt a surge of panic as he quickened his pace. It was not long before he came upon the hobbit sprawled near the base of a tree.
"Frodo?" he whispered.
Boromir fell heavily to his knees, touching a gloved hand to the side of the hobbit's face. Frodo was deathly still. Tears were already starting in Boromir's eyes as he gently shook the hobbit's shoulder. "Frodo?" he said. "What have I done? Please, Frodo…" He dashed away his tears with the back of his glove, but paused as he suddenly noticed the blood upon his hand. Frodo bore a nasty gash upon the side of his head; a nearby rock was stained with his blood. He had stumbled and struck his head.
Boromir gave an anguished sob as he realised that Frodo was dead. He clenched his fist and raised it to his face, staring down at the hobbit's still form. A slew of emotions ran through his mind in that moment; above all he felt grief and total panic. Then he noticed Frodo's clasped hand.
The hobbit's arm was resting across his chest, the hand just above his heart. With shaking hands Boromir reached down and prized apart the hobbit's pale fingers to reveal the Ring of Power resting in his palm. It had slipped from his finger and betrayed him.
The wood around him was now completely silent. Slowly Boromir took the Ring and held it up to the light. It glinted fiercely for a moment and then grew dull. As he watched it the Ring appeared to grow in size in his hand. Boromir gazed at it transfixed, his tears forgotten. He could hear enticing whispers calling his name.
Suddenly fear crept into the edges of his mind. Where were the others? Had they heard the commotion? Boromir looked about himself anxiously, becoming aware of faint cries in the distance. Of course the others would suspect the worst of him. Why would they not? Frodo was dead and Boromir had blood upon his hands. They would find him and take the Ring.
"No!" thought Boromir. "No, I must not let them. They will take the Ring to Mordor and destroy it! But it has come to me! It is my own. My own!"
The voices in the distance grew louder. Soon it would be too late; Boromir had to act now. Quickly he thrust the Ring onto his finger. Then he turned and fled blindly into the trees of Amon Hen, the wraith world a blur of shadow and flame about him.