Another day and travelling by foot as the horse carried their belongings now, too weak and tired to carry them both. At dusk they set up camp. They could not make a fire and felt bad being unable to give Harver any water although there was plenty of grass for him to graze from. The sky was a hazy blue with red in the distance where the sun set. It was a magnificent view and Therassa stood beside another tor observing the natural beauty. There were many tors about and were helpful to protect them from the elements although it was only light winds for now.
Boromir moved to stand beside her, seeing the sky even left him speechless. The silence was broken when Therassa murmured, eyes sparkling as she never took her gaze away from the view, "Can you believe that we have done it?"
At first he didn't understand what she meant and then it struck him, the reason she was with him. It had slipped his mind, or perhaps he had pushed it from his mind.
"I… I cannot." A hint of smile appeared on his lips, amused that he could not find other words to display how overwhelmed he was, all his thoughts battling one another, unsure what to feel.
She saw his face, its conflicting expressions, and longed to know what he was thinking. Disappointed as he turned away, returning to their belongings he changed the subject, calling over his shoulder, "It is time to eat, we only have bread."
Taking the food from his bag and returning to where he had stood, and sitting down she followed him. Where they sat was on a slope, the descending sun casting a beautiful orange glow over them and the surrounding lands. He had half a loaf and splitting that between the two, he gave Therassa her share, "We can't make a fire and all the food we have needs to be cooked. I'm sorry about this; I was intending to get some more supplies in Edoras."
"So soon? You did not tell me it was Edoras we were going." She sighed, looking down at the bread in her hands, saddened.
"Yes, I was not sure if Rohan would be the best place for you, they are close allies with Gondor. But I realise that there are people there that I trust fully and more than most at Minas Tirith. Who I know will keep you safe."
Safe, she thought, I feel safe with you, always you. Your face brightened my day. When we exchanged glances, when you saw me and actually looked at me, eyes meeting, it filled me with an excruciating joy that I could never show. I will, probably, never let you know how much your acknowledgements meant to me on those long days at Denethors' side. You would occasionally come in and I fought a smile or a polite, pleased 'hello'. Sometimes you and Faramir, my closest friend, would be away fighting for Gondor and I would be left for weeks with your cruel, twisted, pathetic father. But when I saw his sons… I felt happier. My heart tightened and I longed to exclaim because I saw you… and you saw me.
"You have been a good friend Boromir," was the only response she could conjure, afraid to look at him in case she broke down in front of him, unable to share any of the thoughts swarming her brain. She was just too frightened and yet she did not know what of.
Boromir did not reply, not out of rudeness, he was just slightly lost for words. So much to say and not knowing how to say it, this truth tormented them.
"How is your head?" he spoke softly, yearning to hold her close and protectively.
"I am not concerned with my head; I'm concerned that I will be in Edoras this time tomorrow." She realised what she was going to say but she was unable to stop herself, feeling frustrated that he was worrying about her silly injury when she was thinking of other more painful things. She had been shutting away her true emotions for too long, Denethor never cared for her feelings. Nervous as she continued on, she stared intently at the hills in the distance "There I'll be and you'll continue onwards, being the valiant man I admire, leaving me. I… I don't want you to leave."
She put the last of her bread in her mouth and chewed it quickly, regretting her sudden outburst of truthfulness. Nothing was said from the man beside her but she could feel his body go stiff, stunned by the revelation.
"You don't want me to leave?" exasperated, he stood and wandered over to where their belongings lay, "You don't want me to leave? You…"
Reluctantly, shaking, she rose to her feet and turned to look at him as he stood, his hands upon his hips, back to her, appearing large and threatening as he fell very silent. She took a few steps towards him but was unable to go nearer because she was unsure what else she could say or do to change what she said, or take it back. But she didn't want to take it back, she wanted him to say something else, reflect upon her enlightening statement.
Flooding her mind were the thoughts that he would ultimately reject her, that he would be very desperate to go after he had gotten her to her destination. She was surprised when he finally looked at her, frowning, eyes sad and staring at her… was it sympathetically? Running a hand through his hair, he sighed, "Would my leaving hurt you?"
With a nervous nod she murmured, "Boromir, I care about you..."
At that response he approached her, never taking his eyes from her. Taking her face in his hands he spoke softly, "I don't want to hurt you." He placed his lips upon her, passionately kissing her, as his hands timidly caressed the skin upon neck.
And in that moment, she cared not about that title and place she had longed for in her time at Minas Tirith, nor did she care for the escape to Edoras. The tender kiss, full of enthralling power and emotion, seemed to be all she wanted. Boromir became her most important desire, more so than all she had dreamed of for years, in those few seconds.
The blissful moment was interrupted as they heard and felt beneath their feet a distant rumble. Turning from her, his brow knotted together as confusion and unease claimed any happiness he may have worn upon his face as he glanced across the plains. Apprehension grasped Therassas' mind, she looked about blindly, wondering what it could be. He noticed it first, dark shapes approaching in the direction they had rode from that day. She could not make them out but they seemed to be moving at an unusual speed. There appeared to be no organization in their form but they were not the right size to be any animal.
It was Boromir who recognized them first, startling her as he grasped her wrist and hurried her towards their things and then wildly trying to gather it all, "It cannot be." He growled. Therassa did not know what to say, frozen in her place, watching his agitation and fear increase, "What, who?"
"Easterlings!" he barked, trying to get their bags upon Harver. This knocked some sense into her and she began to aid him, "How? This far north?"
"The dead patrolmen must have been found. I was a fool to think that the rest of them would not be far off. They are hunting us!"
Looking back at them as she slung her own bag over her shoulder, the shapes were even closer and the sound of cries could be heard, just as unsettling as before. The moon was rising in the sky and she could make out they're appearance in the silver glow. Not so wild in looks as the others, these seemed to wear armour different from what she had ever seen in Gondor, their helmets were strange threatening shapes, warped and bronze.
Finally, she was able to avert her gaze and continue helping Boromir, "They are different from the ones in the woods! These are not like wild men, these are warriors."
"In the end it is all the same." Hopeless, he grabbed Harvers reigns and began to pull the horse, Therassa close behind him, "There numbers are too great my Lady, we cannot fight. I want you to take the horse and ride onwards to Edoras. You must obey me this time, I refuse to let you fight this time" he glanced at her hand as it curled around the hilt of the dagger, "That will not help you now."
"But Harver is too weak, what about you?"
"Get on the horse." And with that he grabbed her and placed her on it and then pushing at the creature, it set off into a gallop. All Boromir had on him was his shield, the horn of Gondor, his sword and the side bag that he kept to relieve the horse of the strain, although it wouldn't make much difference.
Therassa screamed at him as he turned away from her to face the oncoming hoard. He was a foolish man; she prayed for a miracle. Soon she could not see him at all and even the sound of their cries had faded into the distance. Dangerously, she tried to adjust the way she was on the horse as it sped along, clinging to the reigns nervously. Her stomach lurched as she managed to swing her leg over so that she now straddled the horse and taking full control of the creature she tried to bring it to a halt, "Harver," she commanded, "Stop! We must go back!" the horse understood her pleas and obeyed as he turned around, making their way back.
Weak and tired, the horse managed to trot with small bursts of speed. She had not realised how far they had travelled in such a small space of time but it seemed to be taking longer. Soon she began to hear a distant rumble again and her thoughts travelled to the Easterlings. Her worst fear arose as she began to think of him, they had killed Boromir and now they were after her. She could see the figures approaching towards her and she turned the poor creature she rode around again. But he was just too weak; he seemed to stumble as he tried to pick up his trot but no faster could he ride. "Please, Harver, please." The sounds behind her were much quicker approaching than the ones before, and glancing over her shoulder she witnessed them at last.
These were not the same as the others; these men rode horses, the gallop more distinguished as they neared. They seemed to bear spears, taller than the mounted riders. The men could see her clearly and were beginning to encircle her and Harver; she was too scared to cry. Instead she ran a gloved hand through the horses' mane as he finally came to a stop, unable to go any further.
Weapons pointed at her, Therassa stared wide-eyed, glancing about desperately. But these were not Easterlings. These men were coated in metal armour and their helmets were simple dome shape, with intimidating hair like a horse's tail trailing from the top of it.
"Lower your weapons." She searched for the face to go with the demanding voice and found him, a man with dark eyes staring at her curiously, "It is but a woman." Therassa remained silent as he approached her, "What is your name?"
"I am Lady Therassa," her voice was weak but she tried to compose some courage, "And you soldier?"
"I am Éomer, son of Théodwyn and Éomund, nephew of Théoden, king of Rohan. And Lady Therassa, what would a woman like you be doing riding in the dead of night across the plains of Rohan? These are dangerous times."
"My companion, we were crossing and were ambushed by a hoard of Easterlings, just south of here. I am on my way back to him, he sent me away to escape and now I fear I have lost him." the expressions on the man's face changed, as though he finally understood what was going on about him.
"We have slayed this hoard, there were not too many for the likes of us. Do not fret my Lady; this companion of yours is not lost. We found him fighting them off, but he has been injured and is in need of medical aid." As he said that, he signalled towards a soldier, behind the first row of men to come forward. He rode carefully towards her, the ones in front stepping aside to let him pass.
Lying lifeless across the man's lap was Boromir. Her lip quivering, she fought hard not to sob or dismount Harver and cling to her companion desperately. Instead she sat there, staring with a pain in her chest, unable to do anything for him.
"Boromir," she murmured, struggling to keep her voice from breaking. Éomer's gazed moved between the two of them, his brow furrowing as she said the name, "Boromir? Of Gondor? Son of Denethor, the Steward?"
She was able to disguise her disgust at her old masters name but nodded, "He is."
"We shall ride to Edoras immediately. Your horse looks unwell. You shall ride with me whilst one of my men can lead your horse at its own pace. Someone relieve the beast of the packs." Turning to her, he waited patiently for her to dismount.
Finally, after some difficulty and needing to be lifted up to the horse, she took her place behind Éomer, arms wrapped around his waist as they set off. She couldn't help herself, and kept glancing behind at the body of Boromir unmoving and appearing weak, vulnerable as he was carried to Edoras. This was not how she imagined their arrival, feeling sick to her stomach with worry and guilt. Guilt for having rode so far away, leaving him behind. She could only pray that he would survive the journey.