In truth, Elona did not know how she could fulfill the man's request if he died. There has been no travelers to Tharbad in years, no messengers passed through, and their own people kept to themselves and did not venture out to faraway lands. Elona's father told her that in the days of her grandfather, Tharbad traded with the land of Rohan to the South and with other towns up North. Those were happier days. Then the roads grew unsafe, fell things hunted around at night and the sun was low in the sky during the day. No one dared venture far and after a few of the more daring tradesmen were attacked by Wild Men, all travel ceased. Their lives grew somber and austere, for there was naught to make a living from but livestock and farming. Crops failed, the river flooded, and people would go hungry. This was the way as long as Elona could remember.
She looked down at the man with wonder. He was fitted as a warrior, and a high-born warrior too. My name is well known in Rohan, he had said, so he must be a man of some importance, and yet somehow this man of importance came to lie face down in the dirt so far from his home.
The readiness with which he spoke of death made her uneasy. It seemed as if he made peace with the idea long ago. This would be natural for a warrior, I suppose, she thought, for one must suspend fear to face battle.
Growing up in this dwindling village, Elona long ago ceased to entertain any romantic ideas and had learned to accept life as it came, thankful for her natural practicality. A woman of thirty-one, she had long ago given up on finding a husband. Half of Tharbad's young men were her distant cousins, and of the others, many were married, and others she found unpleasant or dull. Some nights, alone in her bed, Elona pondered the fact that she was still a maiden. She knew that of her friends, many engaged in trysts, even with other women's husbands, for it was understood that suitable men were few. But their insular village could keep no secrets and Elona dreaded being the subject of town gossip the next morning, so she kept to herself.
Sighing, she broke away from her reverie to look back at the traveler, Boromir, she reminded herself, as he tossed and turned in the throes of another nightmare.
There was the clang of steel, then he was on the ground and small hands were squeezing the air out of him, he thought he would die, until his dagger met flesh and the Harad boy fell to the ground, dead. The open eyes stared back, judging, unforgiving, silent. Then the battle was over and he lay in his bed, dizzy and sick and forever changed.
The boy's face slowly morphed into the face of Eladar, assuring him that he did what he had to do, and then many years flew by and there was Eladar again, lying on the ground before Captain-General Boromir of Gondor. Eladar, the senior soldier of the company, who was as a second father to him, Eladar, who lay dying, eviscerated by orcs during another ambush. 'Please', he begged, 'please, I ask it of you. Otherwise it will be slow and obscene. I have taught you well,' the dying man gasped, 'to do your duty.'
Boromir drew his dagger. Nausea rose. But he must. The man's innards were on the ground. 'Tell me when.'
'Now.'
'Be at peace.' In one fluid motion he drew the dagger across his own palm and then plunged it into Eladar's heart.
Elona looked at Boromir and sighed. It was the third night since the fever took him again, and he has not woken. She knew so little of this man, and yet she dreaded the end that seemed to lurk around the corner. She lit a new candle, changed the rag on his forehead, and settled in for another watchful night.
On the morning of yet another day, fifth now by count, there was a knock on her door. "What is it, Rinel?" She muttered sleepily. The last week and a half, caring for the ever-dying traveler, have worn them both out.
"His fever broke. He sleeps soundly."
Elona breathed a sigh of relief. "At last, good news! Let us rest too, now. The worst is behind him."
A grey light met his eyes as he slowly lifted his lids and looked about. At first he did not know where he was, and slowly it came to him: Tharbad, his illness, Elona, and the loss of his horse. Boromir felt a pang of sadness. His horse has become a close companion and he could only hope the horse has made it back to his native Rohan safely.
While he still felt quite weak, the fever was gone from his body and there was a freshness in his mind that he has not felt in a long time. He regretted the time lost, but now that he was on the way to recovery, he should be able to go out to search for Imladris again. Mayhap the people of Tharbad even knew something that could help him on his way, and he had ample time to ask. Boromir knew well enough that recovery after a fever was not to be forced, and it would be another week or two before he was travel-worthy again.
"I hear you are awake!" Elona smiled sunnily as she waltzed into the room. "How do you feel?"
"Well the fever appears to be gone, although I am still weary. How many days has it been?"
"This is the fifth day after the fever returned. It broke in the night. Here, let me fetch you some tea. You must be thirsty." And before Boromir could say a word of thanks, she waltzed back out. Boromir stared after her for a while. Only now he had noticed that she was indeed a beautiful woman. Elona had an open kindness combined with a strong will and sharp wit, which made her pleasant company. Her brother Rinel, three years younger, was of a more surly disposition and spoke little, but Boromir could see he was a sure and honest man. There were no elders or children in the house however, and Boromir could not help but wonder how it was that neither of the two had any other family.
As the days passed, Boromir grew stronger. The cough still plagued him but his fever has not returned. The only problem was that there was little for him to do. They still insisted on treating him as a guest and would not allow him to help them in their work, and to be honest, Boromir was somewhat relieved, for he knew nothing of herding cattle or farming the land, but he felt guilty for having been a burden. His evenings were spent talking with Rinel and Elona, who seemed to be glad of some company. They told him of the way things have been going in Tharbad, and Boromir understood that for a long time, they have been an insular community, struggling to survive but keeping loyal to each other. They knew little of what went on in the outside world, aside from feeling that something evil was afoot. When they asked him for tidings, he chose his words carefully. Boromir felt a pang of guilt at shattering their blissful ignorance, and yet soon they may have to fight as the shadow drew near. Better they know and prepare as they may.
"There is a village council tonight," Rinel suggested. "If you feel well enough, it would be good for you to attend. The whole village should hear the situation with… uh…Mordor, as you call it, and perhaps someone else may know of Rivendell."
