Di Immortales. This took a long time to write. This is by far the longest chapter I've ever written, and it was mostly in about two days, because I finally found some free time, which is why it took so long to get out in the first place. I'll stop there; I just hope every one of you enjoys this, and if you have any questions or ideas, drop me a PM or leave a review. Read on!
Percy clasped the front of the boat in his fist and trudged through the shallow water, dragging it onto the pebble beach. Boromir was doing the same with another boat. Despite being exceptionally lightweight for their size, the boats were no feathers to haul, but the two quickly moved the four boats away from the Anduin, that great river that moved the Fellowship daily towards their fates.
Perhaps twenty paces away from the riverbank was Aragorn, quickly setting tinder and sticks aflame as the hobbits tried to set up camp for the night. Gimli disappeared in the forest with his axe over his shoulder; several minutes later he came back, making several trips to bring all of his newly-found (or newly-created) stumps for seating. Percy chuckled as he saw Gimli whistle whilst brushing wood-shavings from his axe.
As the Fellowship seated themselves around the fire, no one spoke at first. The first two days of their journey down the Anduin since Lothlorien had both been identical. Yeah; identically boring. At least this had better sights than school, even with the lack of talk. Both days had been spent mainly in silence. They paddled somewhat, but let the current take them too. That is, all of them with the exception of Percy, whose oar had been used in the previous day's campfire. He was perfectly content to will the river to take him and the other boats downstream, and therefore refused to take the oar and do any more manual labor than necessary. Lazy, my mom would say. He scoffed. Nah, just… uh...priority-oriented. With saving my energy for later being my top priority.
Even though the boating had been almost completely silent, it's not as if he hadn't tried to strike up conversation; he had made his fair share of bad jokes to the others and told Aragorn noted observations, but no one really wanted to talk. Percy, even, was perfectly content with the silence. He tried talking out of habit, but the silence was relaxing.
Sitting on his stump around the campfire, he remembered something his Psychology teacher had mentioned to the class at Goode a couple of months before his unexpected vacation to Middle Earth. "Males have box minds," Mr. Neuren said, "whereas females have spaghetti minds. Men have a box for everything in their life, and the boxes don't touch. Men even have a box in their mind for nothing, which is why men can be content doing nothing for hours on end." And he was right. Sitting in his canoe with Boromir, he had laid down for twelve-ish hours both days, alone with his thoughts and the scenic views, and he hadn't been uncomfortable or impatient at all. Boring, it may have been, but not an intolerable kind of boring. It wasn't just him either; everyone had been alone with their thoughts, and no one seemed especially anxious. Boromir was more fidgety than the rest, but not much more than usual.
The only problem with silence and being alone with his thoughts was the thoughts themselves. Percy's thoughts had been mainly centered on the knowledge he gained in Lothlorien from Galadriel's mirror. He was confused thinking about it, partly because he regarded it the same way he would a prophecy from the Oracle back home. He didn't know if he was supposed to seek out and try to do that which he had seen (except maybe not the dying part), or if was something that was fated to happen anyways, and him trying to seek it out or change it would result in something else, possibly something worse.
Because of the knowledge the Mirror imparted to him, he tried to think up a strategy, a battle-plan for destroying the Ring, but nothing quite leapt out at him as a foolproof plan. If you follow this easy ten-step program, you can lose twenty pounds and appear fifteen years younger! And you can destroy this piece of jewelry that's pure evil and wants to destroy the entire world! It's only $15.99 with shipping and handling; call to get yours today!
He had ideas, sure, but not a whole plan. More like he had puzzle pieces to a plan, and we was trying to take a hammer to the puzzle to smash the pieces until they fit in the wrong holes. One thing that gnawed at him was the fact that he had seen a waterfall with a rocky spire in Galadriel's Mirror, and according to Aragorn, that was coming up in about eight days of travel. He didn't know if anything was going to happen there or what he was going to have to do.
Percy sighed and pushed the thoughts out of his mind. He had dwelt on them too much over the past two days, and if there was food in front of him now, he was sure as Hades going to concentrate on that. He chewed some lembas while watching the meat roast on the fire. The nine of them all stared in silence, seemingly caught up in their thoughts as they all had been for days.
He stared at each person, their faces awash in the amber glow of the fire. Legolas, he was sure, was thinking about the green leaves of his homeland, the crisp breeze and fluttering leaves of Mirkwood.
Gimli was holding the hairs of Galadriel in his hand, staring at them almost with reverence. He, Percy was sure, was thinking of gold, and whether any gold of Erebor would be worthy to house the gold he now held in his hand.
Sam was probably thinking of the Shire, and the gardens he would make if he was there.
Merry and Pippin… he wasn't sure about them. Both of them were rarely serious, and to be caught up in their thoughts meant that they were thinking of things Percy wasn't acquainted with, unless it was just the dangers of the mission ahead.
Frodo was caught up in the Ring, and how he would separate himself from it at the End once and for all.
Aragorn, as the leader in the quest, had to worry about what path they had to take and what they must ultimately do. He probably also has Arwen on his mind.
And Boromir… he was consumed with worry and longing for Minas Tirith and Gondor. Percy frowned as he noted Boromir continuously glancing towards Frodo, or at his chest where the Ring was hidden beneath his cloak. Boromir nervously bit his nails and shifted his seating, so concerned did his thoughts make him. Percy had seen him glancing at Frodo from his canoe the past days as well, and saw that something was amiss. I'm gonna have to talk to Boromir about this, or at least keep a closer eye on him. I know Boromir wants the Ring to save Gondor; that hasn't been a secret since Day One… but if he ever acts on those feelings we're going to have trouble.
Percy took Riptide out of his new scabbard and rested it on his legs, staring into the glowing bronze blade. He wished that it was like Piper's old blade Katropis, where he could look in it and glimpse the future, but unfortunately it was just regular Celestial Bronze. He sighed and put it away. His thoughts faded back to Galadriel's Mirror, and he wasn't able to push them away. He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance as he tried to think of a solution to the problem that faced him. Even with some food in his system, nothing jumped to mind, as per usual.
Part of the problem, he thought, was that he didn't know where to start. He didn't know what was going to happen at the waterfall in a week, and he didn't know where the Fellowship was going after that, assuming he made it that far. He had thought that they would just continue down the Anduin after the Falls; that was the original plan at least. Boromir wanted them to push for Minas Tirith afterwards, but Percy got the feeling that Aragorn was reluctant to do that. He probably doesn't want the Ring in the hands of any ruler… He doesn't want to risk It being used as a weapon…
But then a part of his mind thought But what if it has to? Maybe the Ring is supposed to be used as a weapon.
The logical part of his mind (the one that absorbed Annabeth's talking when he zoned out) reasoned "Isildur thought the same thing."
He picked up a stone and thumbed it, taking in every small detail. He just needed something different to occupy his thoughts, or remove thinking entirely. "Hey," he said to no one in particular. "Just out of curiosity, does anyone have an idea of what we're going to do? Or have a plan of action?"
Everyone looked up, but no one spoke. "No? So I'm not the only one? Well that's reassuring."
"We make for the Falls of Rauros," Aragorn responded. "And there we choose our path, though we will most likely carry our boats down the North Stair and continue down the Anduin. But we do have a week to decide our journey."
"Why do I feel like it's more 'a week to prolong making our decision'?"
"I do not understand," Legolas broke in.
"It's just that… ever since we left Lothlorien two days ago, all of us have been out of whack. I know that I've only been thinking about what we have to do, and I'm sure most of us are in the same boat, no pun intended. Well, actually, pun intended. Anyway, I just can't...find any solutions. Everything Lady Galadriel showed me made my path clearer at first. I think I know what I have to do later on, but I don't know how to reach that end, or how any of you play into that." He paused. "Galadriel's words won't leave my head, and my mind is restless."
Aragorn stood and walked over to Percy. He placed his hand on Percy's shoulder. "It is not your job to carry the burden. We are a Fellowship; we are here to help each other in this burdensome endeavor. Do not worry about your path; trust in the words of the Lady. I feel everything will be made clear in time."
"But everything was clear, at least to an extent, and now it's as clear as freaking mud."
"Do not worry. We shall sail down the Anduin. At the Falls, we as a group choose the best path. We have but one task; destroy the Ring, and we must keep that end in sight in every decision we make. As for now, like I said before, we have a week to plan, together as a Fellowship."
"The past two days, I've been planning my quest, and I've made approximately zilch progress. It's not that I don't want your help, I just don't know how much any of you can help me."
Frodo gave a dry smile. "Well look who's finally coming around. Welcome to my world."
Percy winked. "Bud, I've been in your shoes (Frodo doesn't wear shoes…) for years before I met you, but I do understand the weight on your shoulders. If you ever want to talk, I'm here for you. But I have to warn you, I'm like the second page of Google; you must be truly desperate to come to me."
"The second page of what?"
"Never mind. Just know, I'm here for you. For any of you," he finished, looking around.
Aragorn looked at Percy. "I know it's your quest, and I know that your path may differ from ours, but that does not mean that you cannot seek help from us." He paused. "In Moria, Gandalf tasked me with leading the Fellowship; long have I shrunk from such a responsibility, for I do not wish to lead you astray. But it is time I accept my burden, as you and Frodo accept yours."
When Aragorn said that, Percy knew instantly that the burden he was talking about was not just leading the Fellowship, but accepting the royal burden of his noble heritage and accepting the mantle of King of Gondor.
Boromir must have sensed the same thing, for he spoke. "Have you seen it, Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver. Its banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?"
"I have seen the White City, long ago. Ever it calls to me, and ever I have pushed it away."
Boromir spoke again, but he spoke more softly, and Percy thought he saw a glimmer in the corner of Boromir's eyes. "One day, our paths will lead us there. And the tower guard shall take up the call: 'The Lords of Gondor have returned!' And my father…" At that, he fell silent entirely, looking into the pebbles beneath his feet. At a length he looked up again. "My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing. And now our… our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right and I — I would do it. I would see the glory of Gondor restored."
Aragorn nodded, not able to find words. Soon Boromir spoke again. "The Lady spoke to me in Lothlorien." At this point, Percy could see a tear trace a path down Boromir's weathered face. "She said there was still hope, but I cannot see any. Gondor is falling gradually, against the strength of Mordor, and I would give anything, do anything, to heal the wounds against her, my land, my home." He looked away and shook his head; everyone else was silent.
Percy felt pity for Boromir. He knew Boromir would never accept pity, so he kept his thoughts to his own self, but he thought he understood Boromir a little bit better. He has lived his whole life faced with the destruction of the place he loved more than anything. He's up against insurmountable odds, and probably the only thing that could help is the Ring.
He's a soldier; direct warfare is the only thing he knows. Going behind enemy lines to destroy the Ring goes against his grain. He can only think of using the Ring as a weapon as he has fought his whole life, and that's forbidden for him at the moment. That would drive any man to extreme measures.
"Boromir, I don't know where our paths will lead," Percy began, "but perhaps it will send you and me to defend Minas Tirith. And if it does, I will be honored to fight for your great city."
Boromir looked at him, gratefulness etched in his face. "I thank you for your words, Perseus. And I would be honored to fight by your side."
Percy nodded as he tore off a bit of meat from the campfire. "I may not be the best strategist, or the smartest man here in Middle Earth, but I can fight, and that's why I'm here. I don't think it will be my duty to destroy the Ring, but rather to make safe the way so that you, Frodo, and everyone else can."
He chewed the bit of meat for his supper, but then a thought came to mind. "Maybe, if I fight at Minas Tirith, it will attract the eye of Sauron and divert his attention. Not to be cocky, but he's looking for me along with the Ring, and that's when you can strike, Frodo."
"Perfect," Pippin said, "but now how do we get to that point?"
"Aaaaaand we're back to stage one. We don't know."
Aragorn stood up. "Well, I think it would be fair to say we've exhausted our minds for the night. We should get some rest soon enough; we have another long day of paddling tomorrow."
"Oh no," Percy said in mock surprise. "I seemed to have lost my oar! How ever will I paddle tomorrow. Alas, woe is me!"
Gimli rolled his eyes. "Yes, what a shame. But last night's campfire did seem a bit warmer than usual."
"I don't know what you are implying, Sir Dwarf. But I will agree with Aragorn on the 'rest' part. Sleep does sound good."
"Yes it does," Merry responded, "but you seem to have forgotten that it is your turn for first watch tonight."
"Well golly gosh darn, that seemed to have slipped my mind. Thank you ever so much, oh kind and wise Meriadoc, for instilling wisdom and remembrance in my forgetful heart."
Merry smiled. "Anything for you, oh wandering sage."
"To paraphrase my previous statement, you suck."
"Couldn't have said it better myself."
"Perhaps if you don't retire to your respective positions" Legolas started glibly, "one shall take all-night watch this night, and the other the next. And we may actually get some rest this fine evening."
"Oh, I have just been hit with the hammer of reason; I feel the urge to shut up and take my watch right now."
"How fortunate."
And so the days faded away, each filled with hours on end of floating down the Great River. Several days after leaving Lothlorien, the densely wooded slopes on either side of the River gradually gave way to grassy fields, the Field of Celebrant being on the west bank.
When they had traveled in days past, the trees on the bank and more or less unnerved Percy. He knew Sam especially felt the same way; it was if the trees harbored many invisible, sinister eyes, and those dark woods were a stark difference from the Golden Wood. But now, as they entered the grassland, Percy felt as though the Fellowship was naked. There was nothing to hide them from unwanted eyes, and he was longing for those trees he hated days ago.
Soon, the peaceful grassland turned into slopes, and they soon found themselves with utterly barren hills on either side of them. On the east, the Brown Lands, there was nothing but the brown hills; there was neither a stone nor a dead tree to break up the wasteland, and Percy wondered what evil in millennia past had so cursed or destroyed the land to make it like that.
Was that Sauron's doing? Is he capable of something like that? Reduce an area of land to a nuclear-wasteland lookalike?
On the west, there was the same downlands, folded slopes covered with withered grass, with tall dark reeds hindering the Fellowship's view from the riverbank. These, Aragon had told him, was the Wold, the land that gently rose higher than the surrounding area. As they traveled on, they passed the Wold and came to fading downlands and other hilly places. After a couple more days, the land became more rocky, and it began to rise again as the slopes became steeper and more precipitous. They had entered the Emyn Muil.
Eventually, about a week since departing the Golden Wood, the Anduin was bordered by looming, barren stone faces on either side. Now, I'm no geologist, but I can imagine Annabeth mentioning something along the lines of how the Anduin must have eroded the rock layer over thousands of years, kinda like the Grand Canyon. Wow, that was lame.
Percy hadn't necessarily made any progress whatsoever in planning, but he had made progress in pushing it out of his mind altogether, something he was extremely pleased about. Instead, his mind focused on more mundane thoughts that required little mental effort.
Wait a minute, he thought suddenly, sitting up in his boat one morning. All of the Athena kids have, like, extremely blond hair. Like, honey blond. But Athena herself has black hair, like Zeus. Scientific Hypothesis No. 1: Athena has a thing for blond dudes.
Gradually, the river hastened its travel slightly as they neared the waterfall. It wasn't as if Percy directly drew strength or powers from the river, but he felt a little pool of energy building up as they neared the mighty waterfall. It made him a little giddy when he felt it, but it also worried him, that me might do something stupid with it and kill himself or the others. You see, normal people don't worry about these kinds of things… but me? Yeah, the more I travel down a river, the more I worry about killing people with water powers. Fantastic.
Percy felt a little unrest in his stomach from the river. Something was coming up quickly… Aragorn had mentioned Sarn Gebir, a huge patch of tumultuous river rapids, that wasn't supposed to come up for several days at least, but Percy wasn't so sure anymore. Whitewater rafting was fun, but in a wooden canoe when they weren't expecting it, things could get a bit dicey. He was just going to have to keep waiting and searching; he was going to be able to feel it before they saw it.
Some time later, on the eighth day, as Arien steered the sun lower on the horizon, Percy leaned against the back of the boat. The current was moving swiftly, and he remembered the dream he had three nights ago. In the dream, he saw a tall black tower, but not Barad-Dur. It had four spires at the top, and was surrounded by a circular wall about a mile in diameter. The inside was filled with gaping chasms and fire, with orcs everywhere. Then he was inside a fiery, muddy hole. He saw orcs working in… disgusting material that he didn't even know. Even worse, though, was that it looked like the orcs were… making more orcs, bigger and more muscular orcs. And the man in white, who must be a wizard, judging by his staff, was overseeing it.
The dream showed the wizard sending a patrol out of about a hundred of the big orcs, clad in iron and wielding wicked swords. He heard the instructions "Bring the halflings to me, alive and unharmed," from the mouth of the wizard.
So they're coming for us. He sighed. Percy expected trouble, but to have a hundred brutal orcs sent for them was a bit annoying. He told Aragorn and the others about it, and as a result, they now mainly took turns paddling through the night while the others slept. It was Percy's idea, really. He told the others that if they were in the river, he could protect them. He even offered to direct the others all night while everyone else slept, but they wouldn't let him go without rest.
That night was a still and silent one. The wind had retreated, as had the clouds, leaving only the crescent moon and countless stars. Sam had been given the task of watchman, being set at the prow of the lead boat. For hours they drifted, hardly using their oars. Suddenly Percy sat up in the boat. The rapids, they are closer than Aragorn thought. The river grows restless and powerful here.
At that moment, Sam gave a cry. Several yards ahead, dark shapes loomed in the river, and the swirl of racing water was heard by all. Before any of them could react, the boats were pushed together in a clump by the rapids. Everyone was rushing, trying to control the boats, but nothing could be done in the chaos.
Percy did what he could, but the river was too powerful for him to control. As the current swept the boats towards sharp rocks protruding from the foaming water, he was able to summon a small wave to knock the boats aside, but that task cost him immensely.
"Aragorn!" Percy shouted. "I think I found the rapids!"
"Hoy!" shouted Boromir. "This is madness! These rapids mean Sarn Gebir is near, and while we cannot dare the rapids in the night, Sarn Gebir will destroy any boat, be it night or day!"
"Back!" Aragorn shouted. "We must go back or face destruction. Turn! Turn if you can; we must now fight the current! Percy, do what you can for us, since you have no oar!"
Percy laughed as he fought the river. The tug in his gut became a constant pull as he reached out, trying to control the river and fight the rapids into submission. All the while, the others paddled furiously, making small headway. They started to move back, away from the rapids, but the water swept them against rocks and ever closer to the dangerous Eastern Shore, which loomed black near them.
"All together, paddle!" Boromir shouted. "Paddle! Or we shall be driven upon the shoals."
At that moment, there was a twang of many bowstrings, and arrows started to fall. From the eastern shore, there was a chorus of hoots and crude hollers; the grinding tongue of orcs was faintly heard, as well as the heavy shuffle of armored beings. The volleys of arrows rained from the sky, piercing the waves mainly. One ricocheted off of Frodo's back, deterred by the mithril coat. Two stuck in Percy's boat, and once bounced off his own chainmail.
"Yrch!" Legolas cried, falling into his own tongue momentarily. "Orcs!"
Everyone crouched for as much protection as they could find as they continued to paddle, each one pulling furiously against the water as the boats began to move away from the eastern shore. Percy could see black shapes running along the shore, and he pulled up a wall of water for a second to stop a cluster that fell towards them.
Even in the dark night, the orcs must have been able to see them somehow, yet no more arrows fell among them after those original volleys. They continued to strain at the oars, not knowing whether they made much progress at all, but the swirl of water grew less over time.
Eventually, they figured they had made it back to the center of the river, and then with labored breath and burning muscle they paddled swiftly towards the western shore, seeking shelter among the bushes and trees on the shore. There, Legolas leapt out with his great bow strung and nocked. Percy followed with Riptide, and they climbed several stumps and stones until they stood atop a large stone as a good vantage point.
Looking across the wide river, they saw no more shapes, but heard still the shrill cries of Mordor's vermin. Looking up at Legolas to his side, Percy saw at that moment a being that reminded him of the ethereal beings he had seen across the Sea. The dim moon reflected silver off his light hair, and his head was crowned with stars as he looked with piercing eyes towards the east.
To the east and to the south, darker clouds advanced among the dark skies, but rising up out of the gloom was a large shadow. As it neared, stars were blotted out as it moved, and an otherworldly dread fell upon the company. It appeared as a great winged creature, blacker than Tartarus.
Fierce cries rose from the eastern shore at its approach, as if the orcs were cheering. Pushing down his dread, Percy noticed that his chest, where he had been slashed by the Ringwraith at Weathertop, now flamed icy cold. He gasped at the shock, grasping at it with his left hand, his right fist white upon Riptide's hilt.
Legolas felt no such pains however. "Elbereth Gilthoniel!" he cried into the night, and the great bow of Lorien sang. The tawny shaft whistled towards the beast, and the winged shape swerved abruptly in air, omitting a ear-writhing screech before falling into further shadows behind the eastern shore.
They sat in silence; the eastern shore, too, made no such cries for the remainder of the night. That mighty fell beast, their deity-like leader, had been dispatched so easily, and the thought of meeting these foes no longer seemed as desirable.
The ice in Percy's chest subsided, and he stood up tall, sheathing Riptide. He whistled. "Damn. Nice shot. Shooting at a sound and a shadow."
"But who can say what I hit?"
"Hey, think about it this way: at least the orcs that the wizard sent in my dream are past us now. We don't have to worry about them anymore."
"You forget one thing."
"And that would be—?"
"Saruman and Orthanc are many leagues west of us. These orcs were on the eastern bank; they were sent by Sauron, not Saruman."
"So Saruman's hundred beefy orcs are still after us?
"Unfortunately, that seems very likely."
"What's new?"
They made their way down to the others, who all wanted to know what it was that Legolas had slain. Percy had a sneaking suspicion, and it looked like Frodo did also.
"I know not what that was," Gimli said, "But I am glad it came no nearer. Too much it reminded me of Moria, of the Balrog."
"It was no Balrog," Percy said. Frodo nodded in agreement. "It was something… colder."
"Then what was it?" Boromir asked.
"The beast was dragon-like," Percy said.
"It was no dragon," Gimli said, "but perhaps a beast created by Sauron in a dragon's image."
"But I don't think it was the beast we had to worry about."
"What do you mean?"
"Atop the creature—I had the same feeling that I did at Weathertop, and I think Frodo did too. Atop the creature was a Ringwraith. Sauron has given the Nine new mounts."
"Pimp my Ride" was taken way too far in this case.
They waited out the rest of the night on that shore. The next morning, Aragorn and Legolas took several hours to search for an old portage trail. Upon finding it, the nine had to carry all the boats and supplies about a mile to make it past the rapids. A little past afternoon, they once again found themselves in the boats, flowing down the glassy river.
Boromir had been vocal in abandoning the boats and the rapids and striking westward as a company until they left the Emyn Muil and came to the Entwash river, before following it east towards Gondor. Aragorn, however, objected on the basis that no path was decided, and the river at least was a path that could not lead them astray.
"So be it," Boromir had said. "You will need me to get the boats to Rauros, but there I will leave for Minas Tirith, even alone, if my help has not earned the reward of companionship."
Now Percy floated down the Anduin with an ultimatum. He wanted to fight beside Boromir—he owed the man that much. But to abandon the Fellowship in such a manner was something he would not do. Just one more thing to talk to Boromir about, I guess. This is gonna be one hell of a talk.
The days passed on once again, but now the nights were spent back on shore with two guards instead of one. No more problems did they encounter, but Percy's dream of Saruman's forces left everyone uneasy.
Several days passed, and the river grew narrower and swifter as it flowed between two looming rocky cliffs, the sheer faces allowing only a ribbon of blue sky above their heads.
One morning, they awoke to a heavy drizzle and foggy skies. As they paddled on, though, things calmed a bit. Then, at a seemingly magical moment, a sudden gust of wind carried all the fog away, leaving a clear view in front of them.
And in front of them rose two pillars to unguessed heights—very close to the cliffs around them. The river flowed through a narrow gap between them.
"Behold the Argonath!" cried Aragorn. "The Pillars of the Kings!"
Now Percy saw with unhidden astonishment that the pillars were actually carved in the guise of men—tall, proud men with crowned heads. Both had their left hand out in a gesture of warning, and their left hand upon an axe. They rested upon pedestals, and felt threatening: a deterrent to threats from the north.
They were weathered but intact; majesty and power were still emitted from the statues. Percy felt an extreme sense of awe and… intimidation. It took all his willpower to stare at them as they passed; even Boromir bowed his head as the canoes floated through the gap between them.
Immediately after the Argonath was even worse than before. They were floating single-file through a very narrow gap, the wind screaming overhead and the cliffs rising dreadfully to immeasurable heights on either side. The dark river rushed forward, roaring and echoing between the rock faces.
Percy looked over to Aragorn's boat to see that Sam and Frodo did not too much care for this setting. Frodo was slouched down over his knees, and Sam was bowed down, muttering and groaning. "What a horrible place. What a horrible place. If I survive, I'll never touch so much as a puddle ever again. I won't even dip my toe in a puddle after this. What a horrible place," he muttered.
"Fear not!" Aragorn said. Looking back at the boat, Percy saw that it was not Aragorn the Ranger who spoke, but instead was Aragorn son of Arathorn, heir to the Throne of Gondor. His hood was cast back, and his dark hair flowed in the winds. There was a glimmer in his eyes, and he indeed looked every bit royal. He was a king returning from exile to his homeland.
"Long have I desired to look upon the images of Isildur and Anarion, my sires of old. Under their shadow, Elessar, in the line of Valandil, Isildur's heir, has nothing to fear."
Then the light in his eyes faded, and he was once again Aragorn the ranger. He muttered to his own self, "How my heart yearns for Minas Anor and the walls of my own city! But whither now shall I go?"
Boromir must have heard, as did Percy. "My king," Boromir said, almost in reverence. "Fate may permit us to return to Minas Anor and free her from Mordor's shadow."
"Perhaps, but my actions follow not always my heart, but what I know will best serve our quest in destroying It."
A look of disappointment invaded Boromir's facial features, and he hung his head with angled eyebrows.
Soon, the dark chasm they flowed through opened up abruptly and they were plunged into bright light. They were shot through to a crystal lake, wide and long. In front of them, the land was more hilly than rocky at first, but it still rose to three peaks. On either side rose two identical crests amid the trees and hills. Between them, centered in the river, rose an even taller peak, a singular spire of rock at the very end of the lake.
The little boost of power Percy felt almost doubled as soon as they entered the lake, and he knew why as soon as he listened. A faint, thundering roar was echoing in the air. The great Falls of Rauros were near, past the end of the lake.
"Behold Tol Brandir!" Aragorn cried, indicating at the spire arising from the river. Everyone perked up as they had entered the lake, and now they were busy taking in all the sights around them. "Upon the left peak stands Amon Lhaw," Aragorn continued, "and upon the right is Amon Hen. The Seat of Hearing and the Seat of Seeing. In the days of the Great Kings, there were high seats upon them and a guard kept, but no man or beast was there ever upon Tol Brandir."
They drifted lazily on the faint current that flowed through the middle of the lake while they ate a lunch in their boats. Percy was able to silently push the boats along a little faster than usual, just because he was looking to the solid ground again. I can roast meat on dry ground. I can't in a boat… or at least it's frowned upon usually.
Finally, several hours after noon, they docked on a beach where the lake narrowed inwards towards Tol Brandir. Aragorn had told them it was called Parth Galen, a fair green lawn amid many trees and before the hills. It was a fair place in days of old, and he hoped it provide sanctuary that days as it had in millennia past. "Here we shall rest for the night. The next stage of our journey is upon us; tomorrow we decide and embark upon our future path."
As the sun set on that tenth day from Lothlorien, Percy sat upon the green lawn of Parth Galen and looked up at Tol Brandir. He had seen it in Galadriel's vision: he had stood atop it and looked over Middle Earth, and it had been in his thoughts ever since. He didn't know why he had seen it, but now that he was here, he felt resolution to climb to the very top and see what he might see.
The task should have intimidated him more than it did, and he was confused as to why he wasn't more intimidated. Looking up, the top now shone golden in the sun, but the rest of it jutted up from the river like a dagger. High above its tall cliffs were steep slopes upon which many trees sprang. Above them were more faces of seemingly inaccessible steps of rock, crowned by a great spire of stone. All in all, it rose several hundred feet from the river bank with no visible way to climb more than fifty feet up. I enjoy a challenge. Let's do this.
He didn't know why he wanted to do this; Percy just felt that this was something he had to do.
"Percy!" cried Boromir, walking towards him from down the riverbank. "What are you planning?"
"What do you mean?"
"You have a look in your eye… the same one I saw when you shook the ground at Moria, without the rage you had then."
He walked over and met Boromir halfway. The two stood there in the grass, underneath the shadow of Tol Brandir. He looked up at the spire. "I'm going to climb that."
Boromir laughed in disbelief. "What? No man has ever set foot upon tall Tol Brandir! It's impossible to climb. Why would you even want to?"
Percy set his jaw. "I don't know… I just feel as though it's something that might give me some answers. In my vision with Galadriel, I saw myself standing upon that rock, and I need to know if there's something up there."
"How are you going to climb it? Sheer rock faces, many ells tall, and no route to the top."
"I don't know. I'll figure it out."
Boromir's face grew more serious as he realized that Percy was actually going to do this. He opened his mouth to talk, and then closed it again. At last he spoke. "Do you wish me to tell the rest?"
Internally, Percy was amused that most of the Fellowship didn't even try to dissuade him from anything anymore; it was more grudging acceptance now. "Just tell them I went for a walk to clear my head, and that I probably won't be back before nightfall."
"Well, I wish you luck on this venture. Just try not to die; I can't fight by your side in front of Minas Tirith if you die."
Percy laughed uneasily. "I'll see what I can do."
With that, he turned around towards the river and started walking. He knew the Fellowship would've easily spotted him, but they were all in the woods scouting the area. Very nonchalantly, he set foot upon the surface of Nen Hithoel, the lake, and kept walking. Striding atop the water, he reached the base of the rock spire in several minutes.
He walked halfway around its base, but finally he saw a series of cracks and handholds in the rock face. Squeezing his hands into them, he began to work his way up, locking his fingers in the smallest of places to get a grip on the sheer rock. At last, after maybe twenty minutes, he emerged above the initial cliff. Looking up, he saw many sharp edges to numerous faces jutting out, but there was actually a slope to most of the area as it rose a couple hundred feet. Here, though, there were a good amount of trees sticking out of the rock, which gave a lot more handholds.
From that point on, it wasn't too difficult to find a way up the rock, even though it was incredibly difficult to actually make progress up the slopes. In a mix of straight-up climbing and a climb-walk hybrid, he slowly made his way up the Tindrock, jumping from outcropping to outcropping when necessary. After much time, he reached the last step: the top spire of rock. Gasping for air, he put his hand on a nook and began to climb. The sun sank lower on the horizon as he progressed.
Finally, with labored breathing and no energy, the hand of Percy Jackson reached above the rock and latched onto the very top of the spire of rock that no man had stepped foot on before. Hauling himself up, he brought himself to a seat upon a platform of grey stone not much larger than him. The sun as now invisible behind the horizon, and its red glow was fading in submission to the silver moon now rising high in the sky.
He allowed himself a small smile at what he had done. After a few minutes of laying down with sprawled-out arms, he stood up and looked around. He could make out the small fire of the Fellowship to the west of him; to the east were only the black hills with no movement that he could see. At the very end of the rock, facing the waterfall, he looked downwards. There was nothing; just water hundreds of feet down. Whereas the other sides of the rock had sloped upwards to this point, this side fell straight down to the river. A ways ahead, the river disappeared into a cloud of mist, illuminated silver in the moonlight. The roar of the Falls helped Percy concentrate as he sat down, looking over the wide expanse in front of him.
Well, you made it here; now what?
He sighed. "What do I do next?" he pondered to himself. There was nothing up there as far as he could see. Boromir had said that no man had ever set foot upon Tol Brandir, but he was kind of hoping to get up here and find some ancient weapon left by a being millennia ago, like on TV. Unfortunately, the only thing there as rock, along with many birds that had circled the tower throughout the day.
The worst part is that there's not even a loose rock for me to kick. He sat down with his feet dangling over the edge, twisting the silver ring Galadriel had given him. He knew there was no power in the ring, but it was kind of comforting to think back to the Golden Wood. He looked back down between his feet at the river; he figured if he fell, he'd just land in the river. Falling hundreds of feet? Been there; done that, he thought, thinking back to the Gateway Arch years ago. He smiled at the thought. Then he thought of all his adventures. The Sea of Monsters to save Grover, Mount Othrys to save Artemis and Annabeth, the Battle for Olympus to quite literally save the world. The Giant War. Each time he had been surrounded by friends and loved ones, and he couldn't have done any of it without them.
Now he had a group of friends again, just as every past adventure. And he was as loyal to each and every one of them. Moreover, he was loyal to the quest and was ready to do anything in his power to see it succeed.
The problem in front of me is where to go and what to do after tomorrow. Well, what's going to see the Destruction of the Ring succeed? Boromir wants to go to Gondor, but Denethor might try to get the Ring. Even if we somehow go west to Rohan, their king might try to get the Ring.
I think the main thing we need to do is keep Frodo away from anyone else as much as possible—kings, cities, soldiers… anyone. We cannot go to Minas Tirith as the Fellowship.
He got up and stood at the edge, just as he had done in his vision. He looked out over the land in front of him. It was night, but he thought he could make out different features in the landscape arrayed before him. Galadriel said that if I follow my personal quest, everything else will fall into place. Just like every quest I've had in the past, my place is with my companions right now. I feel like I'll know when to do otherwise. But right now, I will follow the directions of Aragorn and Frodo. That is my quest at the moment, to keep him safe. If we ever split up, I will attract Sauron's attention, to keep Frodo safe. That is what I must do.
He smiled. Percy felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Right now, the best way to help the Fellowship succeed was to stay with them for support and protection. He knew what he had to do.
He noticed an eagle flying unusually close. Upon seeing its shockingly blue eyes, he smiled. Percy winked at the eagle, knowing that it was not just an eagle flying near him, and he gave a good-natured salute. Then, with no reservations, he jumped off the rock, enjoying the wind whistling past his ears until he plunged into the dark water below.
When he approached the Fellowship, walking towards them on the river, Pippin rolled his eyes in the firelight, trying to convey fake annoyance. "Well look who decided to show up."
"Hey, more food for you guys this way."
"You know," Merry said with a full mouth, "he's got a pretty good point there, Pip."
"Hey, I wasn't complaining that he was gone; I was just stating the obvious."
"Yeah, Pip," Percy replied, "because you don't know much more than the obvious to say."
"I'm afraid he's got you there," Frodo added, giving Pippin a look of pity.
"You guys are all so funny. I seem to have worn out my laugh," Pippin responded dryly.
"Don't worry," Percy said good-naturedly. "We can still laugh at you."
"Where were you, anyway?" Aragorn asked. "Boromir had said you had taken a walk to clear your head, but you just arrived from the river."
"Well, you know, just felt like a little climb."
"You mean…" Legolas started. He moved his chin upwards, motioning at the Tol Brandir behind Percy.
"Yeah. It was a pain in the butt to get up there, but things have cleared considerably. Wherever you decide to go tomorrow, I know that it's the right thing for me to stay with you, at least for now."
Boromir looked down at the ground.
They awoke to a burning morning. Their day of decision was opened with the sight of black, smokey clouds away to the east. Rising from Mordor, no doubt. Coupled with that, the sun arose a flaming orange, washing everything in a bright light.
After they had eaten, Aragorn called them all together. "The day has come at last; the next stage of our journey is before us. What will become of the company? Will we turn west with Boromir and go to Minas Tirith, or turn east to fear and shadow? Or shall we break up even smaller, and each go where he chooses? Whatever we decide, we cannot long tarry here. The enemy has taken the east bank, and we know that Saruman has sent many orcs after us here on the east bank; they may be near us as we speak."
No one dared speak, leaving the grassy area with only the sound of chirping birds. Eventually, Aragorn spoke again. "Well, Frodo, I fear the final decision lies with you as Ringbearer. Your own way you alone can choose."
Frodo was silent at first. "I know we cannot tarry here, but I cannot decide now. Give me one hour alone, and I shall decide. Let me be alone."
Percy saw the kindly pity in Aragorn's eyes as he spoke. "Indeed, Frodo Son of Drogo; you shall have an hour alone, but do not stray too far or out of call."
With that, Frodo left and stalked up the hills into the woods surrounding Amon Hen, leaving the eight of them on Parth Galen. They sat there awkwardly for several minutes in silence. The boats were packed and supplied and ready to go if need be, but nobody knew if they would be using them anymore.
After several minutes, Boromir got up uneasily, mentioning that he needed to do something that Percy didn't catch, and then he walked into the woods too.
Percy sat there; something didn't feel right. Part of him knew that danger was coming, but he did not know in which form it would come: man or orc; sword or greed. Finally, after another tug in his gut, he got up and walked into the woods much in the same manner as the others.
Once there, he didn't really know where to go. He didn't know where either Frodo or Boromir had gone, and no one was talking that he could hear. In his moment of doubt, he decided to make his way up to Amon Hen, the Seat of Seeing. To see what I can see, he thought, amused.
Amon Hen was not far away horizontally, but vertically it was somewhat challenging. As it was situated atop a huge hill, he had to work around the hill. As he traveled on, he saw many signs of previous inhabitance. There were crumbled stone walls and structures at several points on his way up the hill. Luckily, he found an old, crumbled path up the looming hill, and that made it much easier.
The roar of Rauros was ever in his ear, so Percy knew it would be hard to hear anybody if they were talking, but as he emerged on top of the hill ten minutes later, everything faded from his mind. All of the trees were below him now, and he strode up to the Seat of Seeing and climbed the stairs to the top. There, he observed everything. The river tumbled peacefully into chaos at the Falls, the East shore was peaceful as far as he could see: no orcs patrolling the riverbank, and Amon Lhaw rose to identical height across the Anduin, about the same height as Tol Brandir in between.
But then—there was a disturbance. He thought he heard something… like grunts or heavy shuffling. Something was wrong. For some reason, he looked at the ring Galadriel gave him, but the silver band was no longer silver; instead, it now shone with an ethereal blue light. Frodo's sword Sting does the same thing… when orcs are near!
Cursing, he instantly pulled out Riptide and looked for any visible signs of either orcs or Frodo. Upon seeing none of them, he leapt down the steps and took off sprinting down the hill and back down the path. About halfway down the slope, however, he bailed from the path and ran like a deer deeper into the woods. He knew that shouting for Frodo might just attract the orcs to them, so he kept silent and kept sprinting.
After several minutes, he stopped and looked around wildly; he thought he heard something. There it is! From that direction! He heard something that sounded like Boromir's voice and ran in that direction. Finally, he stumbled into a mini-clearing where both Frodo and Boromir stood. But Percy noticed an abnormal, sinister glint in Boromir's eyes.
The Ring is trying to control him, Percy noticed with horror.
"It might have been mine; it should have been mine. Give it to me!" Boromir shouted, his proud tone that Percy had heard earlier now gone.
Percy strode forward. "Boromir! The Ring is controlling you! Don't you hear what you are saying?"
Boromir turned quickly, just noticing Percy for the first time. His face contorted into an angry sneer. "Oh, so now you are turning against me too, Perseus? You're trying to deprive me of what is rightfully mine! You just want it for yourself!"
"The Ring is too powerful for you or for any of us! It just wants to use you to return it to Its Master! It must be destroyed!"
"It belongs to Minas Tirith," Boromir shouted back, "for us to destroy the Dark Lord once and for all! It is the greatest of weapons, and you want to destroy it!"
"And then what Boromir?" he shouted. "After you use the Ring to topple Sauron, then what? Will you be King of Middle Earth? You would be a Dark Lord with that Ring!"
Boromir yelled and ran at Frodo, but Percy lunged in to intercept him. "Give it to me!" he yelled, arms outstretched over Percy's shoulder at Frodo, who was staring in horror. "Give it to me!"
"Boromir! You are not yourself!"
"You will give the Ring to Sauron the first chance you get!"
Alright, that's enough. Percy pushed Boromir off of him, but Boromir ran forward and tackled him in a rage. Boromir tried to pummel him, but Percy kicked him away and jumped to his feet. As soon as Boromir got up, though, Percy leveled him with a single punch to the head, and he fell backwards into the leaves.
Percy paused for a moment, and then squatted down thinking about what just happened. The Ring is a danger to everyone it comes in contact with. No wonder Aragorn doesn't want it in Minas Tirith. He heard sobbing. Looking over to Boromir, he saw the man get up and wipe the tears from his eyes. But they were not tears of pain, but rather tears of shame. "What have I done?" he cried, seemingly ignoring Percy. "A madness came over me! Frodo! Come back!"
Come back? But Frodo is right beh— Percy turned around quickly and saw no one. Frodo was gone. "Where is he?" He shouted at Boromir? "Where did he go? He is in danger!"
Boromir looked up, his eyes sharp beneath his brow, and his face set with determination. "What danger?" he asked, alarmed.
Percy looked at his ring; it was an even brighter blue than before-orcs were close at hand. He mentally kicked himself. How did I forget to tell him that when I came? I have to find him.
"There are orcs nearby—Saruman's orcs! On this hill right now; I heard them earlier!"
Boromir's eyes widened in alarm. "We have to warn the others!"
"Blow your horn. The orcs already know we're here, and we have to warn them."
He nodded and raised his great horn to his lips and blew. A loud, clear peal echoed throughout the hills.
Percy drew Riptide. "Go find the others; keep them safe. I'm going to find Frodo; he probably went up the hill."
Boromir nodded before sprinting down the hill; Percy ran up the hill.
To say he was mad was an understatement. He was mad for what Boromir had done, even though he kind of pitied and empathized with the guy. Then he was straight-up pissed off at himself for forgetting to mention the orcs as soon as he entered the clearing. He was taken by surprise by Boromir shouting at Frodo, but that was no excuse for his lapse in judgement, and now Frodo was in danger. But he kept running. He made it about halfway before he saw them: big dark brutes in shoddy iron armor, carrying wicked spiked swords. There were four of them quickly ambling through the woods. Seeing them, Percy shouted and ran at them, surprising them more than himself.
He dodged the first sword-stroke before beheading the sword's owner. He spun quickly, parrying another strike before slicing two down in a single stroke. The last one he easily dispatched, looking around wildly for anyone else. His heartbeat was louder in his head than Rauros as he searched for Frodo. "Frodo!" he shouted, but no answer. All he heard was the sound of heavy boots all around him.
He continued sprinting up the hill, but it was worse than he thought when he arrived. He saw Frodo (with Sting drawn) standing alone atop Amon Hen with ninety huge orcs advancing, having just spotted him. He backed away towards the edge, not knowing what to do. As they roared and charged the Seat, Percy did the same from the opposite direction. As he passed under the Seat, he leapt in the air and slammed Riptide's pommel into the ground.
The Falls had given him energy for the past several days. In that moment, most of that excess energy transferred from Percy directly into the stony ground. The whole hill shook. The sound of colliding stone and shifting ground reverberated in the open air as the orcs toppled over in the chaos. Several trees were uprooted, and one large one even fell upon a number or orcs. It bought Percy some time, but they were regrouping already. "Run, Frodo! Get to safety. I'm not going to let anyone through; just run!"
Without looking back or waiting for an answer, he sliced Riptide upwards at the charging orc, sending it flying back lifeless. As the multitude closed in on him, he kept swinging, but he knew he had about minute before he was overpowered.
At that moment, though, a silver blade whistled next to his face, and Percy saw Aragorn, King of Gondor, join the fray, slicing quicker than Percy was. Together, the bronze and silver of Riptide and Anduril began to fight back the initial group, but more were coming.
Gradually, they were pushed back to the Seat itself, but many dark bodies were left in their wake. Just when the situation grew dire, however, an arrow sprung from the neck of the closest orc. Then two more. Then an entire axe sprouted from the chest of one. Percy turned to see Legolas and Gimli come into the fight and he smiled.
When he turned back around, he saw many of the orcs in the back disappearing down the hill and he remembered that Boromir was defending the hobbits. He'll be overpowered. "We gotta get to Boromir!" he shouted to the other three. Quickly, he cleaved his way through the group and took off down the hill towards where he saw many orcs traveling.
There were no more packs, just maybe forty huge orcs traveling in ones or twos down the hill amid the trees. Percy ran as fast as he could, trying to dispatch as many as he could. Several arrows landed at his feet, and one bounced off his defended chest, leaving a nasty bruise, but he ran on.
As he ran down the hill, two orcs stepped out in front of him, swords leveled at his chest. Having no time to react, he jumped. Because of the slope, he cleared them easily, and when he landed he instinctively swung backwards. He heard two satisfying thumps, but didn't look back and kept running.
Then, from somewhere off to his far left, he heard that clear peal of Boromir's horn as it sounded three times amid the trees. Turning sharply, he realized that it was a footrace between him and the orcs to Boromir and the hobbits. He hurdled over a fallen log, but tripped landing and rolled several yards down the slope before springing to his feet and taking off sprinting again.
Then he saw him: the mighty man with a great broadsword in one hand and a shield in the other, swinging and blocking against the multitude that ran against him. Behind him, he saw Merry and Pippin throwing rocks, but he realized in terror that the orcs were aiming for them, not Boromir.
Percy saw an orc skirt around Boromir, but was knocked down after a stone lodged itself in its skull. As more tried the same, Percy ran at them, shouting as he threw Riptide at a cluster of three orcs. It pierced one and lodged itself in another as well, pinning the two against a large oak tree. He ran to retrieve Riptide, but it wouldn't budge when he pulled it.
He turned to see a spiked blade coming at his head. He ducked and heard it hit wood. He kicked the orc, then braced his feet against the tree and pulled Riptide. This time it came loose in his grip, and he ran to Boromir's side, where the man was fighting like a man possessed. His face was set, his eyes were eager, and his blade was sharp.
"It's not quite Minas Tirith," Percy shouted over the noise of battle, "but this isn't so bad."
"I will redeem myself!" was all Boromir said before plunging into a cluster of orcs.
Percy backed up to the hobbits. "Stay by me! It's too late to hide or run!" he commanded.
Things were going well until they weren't. Suddenly, something hit the back of Percy's head hard, and he went down dazed. He rolled over in time to see a razor-sharp shield plunging towards him. He barely knocked it aside, but he was knocked over again when he tried to get up. The hobbits couldn't defend themselves against these brutes, and Boromir was struggling by himself. From the ground, Percy saw an archer moving towards Boromir, unspotted.
He stabbed upwards and threw the orc's body aside. Getting to his feet, he saw the orc draw back the bow. Without thinking, he ran towards Boromir in a panic, shouting words he himself couldn't hear.
The bow fired. Percy dove. The arrow whistled through the air and found its mark—burying its barbed head in Percy's exposed upper leg while in midair. He landed in a crumple, his mouth open in a silent scream as he clutched his leg.
Boromir whirled around and beheld all this at once, as did the hobbits. With renewed vigor, they charged the orcs. The two hobbits had out their daggers, and they threw themselves at the beasts.
Percy struggled to a knee. His body was wracked with pain he hadn't felt in a long time—the arrow was not a normal arrow. He saw the hobbits as they entered the fray. "No!" he shouted in despair. For the orcs simply grasped the hobbits and lifted the flailing bodies. Boromir could not reach them behind the wall of fighting orcs, and they were gradually hauled screaming away from Percy and Boromir.
Percy shouted and tried to cause an earthquake—anything to stop the taking of Merry and Pippin, but the arrow had taken all the energy out of him. Slowly standing, he watched as the remaining orcs followed suit, retreating now that they had captured the hobbits.
Boromir hacked at the last orcs, but they would not let him through so easily. The largest orc there stepped forward and swung at Boromir, who fought hard just to parry the strikes.
Percy hobbled over as fastly as he could with Riptide, but the orc was as strong as anything he had faced. He parried the first strike, but the second one caught him in the chest, and he went down hard as the sword bounced off his chainmail coat.
When the orc attacked Percy, Boromir blew his horn once last time, calling for aid. Together, the two fought the orc, but it was more or less one-on-one with Percy's condition. After half a minute, it left Percy lying on the ground, broken, and Boromir disarmed and backing away. Percy closed his eyes, accepting his fate.
"Elbereth Gilthoniel!" a call rang out, and an arrow point suddenly protruded from the orcs forehead. It stood there for a moment, took half a step forward, and collapsed with its face in an eternal sneer.
Percy looked and saw Legolas bounding down the hill. Gimli thundered down next to him, as did Aragorn. Legolas quickly helped Percy up, giving him a shoulder to lean on. Aragorn looked around wildly. "Where are the others?" he asked in a panic.
"Taken," Boromir sobbed out. "There were too many… I couldn't protect them… Where is Frodo?" he finished with concern.
"He was never with us!" Aragorn revealed.
"He was on Amon Hen," croaked out Percy. "I—" he wheezed. "I told him to run; he must have put the Ring on."
"Where would he have gone?"
"He has no supplies—he would've had to go to the boats."
In a sprint, Aragorn, Boromir, and Gimli went towards the beach while Legolas helped Percy down slowly. Percy's face was turning white and he was becoming more dazed by blood loss. The arrow had come close to a major artery and the tip was poisoned.
At last they emerged from the woods, and Percy's first move was to fall into the river, while (he assumed) Legolas went with the others. Staying below the surface , he felt in painful exhilaration as the water entered his wound and began to heal. Grabbing the barbed shaft, he was left with two options: pull the head out through its initial entry point, which was nearly impossible with a barbed shaft; or push it through the back of the leg and cut off the head before pulling out the shaft.
Gritting his teeth, he took the arrow and forced it quickly through the back of his leg, gasping in the cold water as the pain seized him and made all thought irrational. Quickly, with fading vision, he snapped the shaft below the head and pulled out both ends. Slowly, he calmed down as the water soothed and healed the wound. It would heal quickly for that type of wound, but wouldn't be completely healed for at least a week. He stayed under the water for as long as he could, feeling the water heal his leg. When the bleeding stopped, he made his way up to shore, still limping in bad pain and utterly exhausted from everything.
Walking down the shore to the others, he saw them looking beside themselves in despair, with Boromir openly sobbing. One of the boats was gone, as well as all of the hobbits. His stomach slowly settled into a knot as he approached, and he dropped to his knees. He felt guilty as he knelt there in the grass, his head down on the ground by his knees. I've failed. I couldn't protect Merry and Pippin, and I couldn't protect Sam and Frodo. Now they're on their own against the Shadow of Mordor.
He arose, a tear tracing its way down his cheek. Aragorn had his head in his hands, and Gimli, too, was crying. Legolas stared off into the distance, displaying more sadness than he ever had before.
"The Fellowship has failed," Gimli choked. "We promised to protect them, and we failed."
"Boromir's sobbing subsided. "I have failed in my duty. I was a fool, and I gave into evil." He stood up, his eyes red. "Frodo and Sam may be beyond our help right now, if they've crossed the Anduin and plan to sneak into Mordor, but we cannot forget about Meriadoc and Peregrin. They have been captured, and will be killed unless we rescue them."
"Saruman said not to harm the halflings," mumbled Percy, wiping his eyes. "But when he finds out they don't have the Ring…"
"So what is our path?" asked Gimli.
Percy looked across the river, where he was sure Sam and Frodo were somewhere. He knew he could traverse the river swiftly and maybe find them. He could protect them. But what about Merry and Pippin? And then you'd have the two most wanted people in Middle Earth traveling together. That is, if you found them at all.
He sighed. "We go west. The orcs are traveling to Isengard; we have to stop them before they reach it."
"But those are not orcs," Gimli said, "they are Uruk-hai, and they will travel tirelessly. Catching them will be nigh impossible."
Percy stood, putting most of his weight on his uninjured leg. Already, his ring grew silver again—the Uruk-hai were far-gone. "Then we have our work cut out for us."
"What about Frodo and Sam?" asked Legolas. "Are we abandoning them?"
Aragorn looked across the river. "Frodo left because he did not want the Ring to hurt anyone else. I feel that the fate of the Ring-bearer is now out of our hands, but we cannot forsake Merry and Pippin while we still have strength."
"We have lost precious time," Percy noted. "And they are traveling swiftly."
"With or without hope, we shall follow the trail of our enemies. And woe to them, if we prove the swifter, for we shall give a chase to be accounted a marvel by elves, dwarves, and men."
Boromir rose, his face determined. "I will not seek Minas Tirith while the hobbits are in danger. I have failed in my duty once, and I will not again."
Legolas smiled. "I have collected as many arrows as I could from the battlfield; let the Uruk-hai feel their bite once more.
Percy remembered what he had decided upon Tol Brandir. "The more chaos I cause," Percy said, sheathing Riptide, "the more Sauron will be focused on me rather than Frodo. Sounds fun."
Gimli hefted his axe. "Let's hunt some orc."
Aragorn looked at them. His mind was made up; his path was clear. Percy could all but see the energy coursing through his veins, and it gave himself a bit of a boost also. "Let's get that white wizard bastard," Percy said with a smile.
Aragorn put away Anduril. "The chase begins. Forth the Five Hunters!" And he sprang away like a deer into the hills and trees by Amon Hen. With one last glance at the east bank where he knew Frodo was, Percy sprang away after him. The sun started to set; dusk set in, and they carried on, shadows in a stony land.
There it is! Hopefully you guys enjoyed it. If you have any questions or ideas, leave me a review or a PM, and I'll try to get back to you. Or just leave me a review telling me what you think or how I can make this better. Like I said before, I practically typed this up in two days, so it probably isn't perfect, but I really wanted to get it out. Thanks for reading, and have a great day!
~TheDragon12