Disclaimer: I own nothing. It belongs to J.R.R. Tolkein

Title Translation: Farewell, Rest well, Sleep well

Aralas: Thank you for your many reviews. You cleared several things up for me, for which I am so very grateful. You may have to wait awhile longer for some 'action' ;) But since you left so many reviews, I will give you a little hint as to when you may expect some sparks to fly:

"You could have picked a better spot!"

Again, thank you for your reviews, I dearly love every single one I get.

"Has anyone seen Boromir?"

Merry's voice cut through the still afternoon air as we sat waiting for the Ringbearer's verdict. Aragorn knelt next to me worrying a crude fishing line he'd fashioned from some twine, a hook, and a poorly looking grasshopper. The air was mild, with a barely-discernable breeze; the rush of the Anduin filled my ears with a tumultuous melody. Somewhere, a meadowlark was trilling a flirtatious tune and I wondered at nature's ability to be so serene and unfettered in such dark times. Still, I could not help but be contagious of the wild's untamed happiness. Aragorn was no longer treating me like some distant acquaintance. I had my friend back little worse for wear, and I could not complain. The past few days had weighed heavily on my heart, and I was glad to put them behind me. Adjusting my sitting position, I took Aragorn's wrist between my finger and thumb; guiding it in a circular motion.

"Keep the line loose but active" I said patiently. "Imitate what the fish see as prey."

He stiffened when I first touched him, and I felt a twinge of sadness. Never before had my friend been uncomfortable with such contact. Now if I merely brushed shoulders with him he went ridged and something would flicker behind his eyes that I couldn't fathom.

"How do you know how to fish if your people don't eat meat?" Aragorn queried, imitating what I had taught him.

"Adar taught me a long time ago" I replied softly. "We sometimes fish for sport but we always return them."

"Oi!" Merry shouted from the bank. "Boromir's gone off, and he said he would spar with us." He gestured to where Pippin stood with their gear; swinging his shortsword about in preparation for practice.

I frowned.

"I'm sure he will return" I reassured the Hobbit. "He may want some time to himself."

"Don't we all?" Aragorn muttered.

"I'll spar with you a wee bit" Gimli offered, dousing his pipe and hefting his axe.

I felt a flash of gratitude towards the dwarf. He wasn't so truly awful once you got to know him. I'd been truly ashamed to see him blindfolded in Lorien. It didn't settle well with my soul, no one deserves to be treated as less than another. I'd made an effort since then to treat him as an equal, and he in turn had forgotten our many arguments as if they had never been. My father would have a heart attack if he knew I was friends with a dwarf, but he wasn't around to know it and I didn't let it bother me.

I spent a few minutes watching the trio hack away at each other. Pippin was rather hopeless, though perhaps he would improve with time. Merry showed some promise; perhaps even a natural skill for it. But both had a long way to go as far as I was concerned. I had often questioned Gandalf's logic in allowing so many untrained individuals to join the Fellowship. I had always thought the One Ring would be handed over to someone like Aragorn, who could hold his own and that of others. And yet the old wizard had insisted that it was the little things in life that often brought about the greatest change. I had seen great strength in the Hobbits already, but I despaired to think of what would happen to them in battle. One well-placed blow and you could almost cleave them in half-

-I shook myself, chastising myself for such morbid thoughts. The Fellowship hadn't been formed to fight on the battlefield. Our purpose was to secretly find a way into Mordor and destroy the One Ring; not March upon the Black Gates with the Horn of Gondor blaring. I was sure then that Gandalf never meant for us to go to Gondor. For what would the white city see the Ring as but a means of which to win the war? They would see it as the key to victory, not a cursed item to be destroyed.

A loud splashing brought my attention back to the present. Aragorn it seemed, had caught himself a fish, and a large one at that. The dueling trio had dropped their weapons to splash about with it in the shallows, taking turns dragging it upon shore where it flopped and gleamed with a silvery shine. Great, rainbow colored scales speckled its belly and it was a deep golden color on top with sunshine-colored fins. A good three feet in length; it lay with its mouth gaping; a dark eye staring at the sky above.

"Well done laddie!" Gimli cried. "Aye that'll make a fine meal that will!"

I was accosted with a quickly repressed feeling of disgust; replaced soon after by pity for the great creature. Still, we had traveled hard and I was not one to deny the party a good meal. Aragorn was laughing as he pulled in the rest of the line, his face dotted with river water and his palms rubbed raw from holding on to the line. No, he deserved to have his catch how he wanted it; my elven prejudices against meat be damned.

Suddenly, a great crashing noise in the woods brought me to high alert, and I relaxed only slightly when I saw it was Boromir come back from wherever he'd been. His face was white as snow and his breath came in great gasps. The rest of us looked upon him with concern, for we could see he was not at all himself.

"Boromir" Aragorn said slowly. "Whatever is the matter?"

"I ran into Frodo in the woods" the man replied after much hesitation. "I think I must have scared him, for he ran off."

"But he knows you, Boromir" Pippin said slowly. "He wouldn't run from you-"

"Be silent!" Aragorn snapped, suddenly standing very still and cocking his head as if listening.

Sensing that something was amiss, I too grew quiet and tilted my head. At first, I was aware only of the sounds of the wilderness. Snatches of birdsong wended among the waters while the whisper of trees filled the air with soft murmurings. The bubble of water bespoke joy and the quiet musings of the rocks beneath spoke of hours and years passed without care beneath the depths of the water. And then I heard it. Beneath the bustling that was nature, was the quiet rumble of synchronized footfalls. I felt a cold dread in my chest as I counted many; possibly more than we could defeat. They were not human footsteps, nor the footsteps of light-footed orcs but something much fouler. I met Aragorn's eyes to see an expression of grave resignation.

"We must find Frodo!" Merry was shouting.

Gathering my bearings, I allowed for Aragorn to split us up, watching with apprehension as he disappeared into the trees. Boromir fled with the Hobbits and Gimli and I took yet another route, skirting through the trees.

It was not long before we were accosted by Uruk-Hai in great numbers. As I fired countless arrows and swung my blades I was evermore fearful for the Ringbearer. Gimli was a constant shadow at my back and we guarded each other diligently as we made our way through the fray. Many times there were close calls; such strong foes I had not expected and it took both of us off guard. Sweat poured from my brow as I parried yet another thrust from an evil-looking sword only to step back as Gimli's axe went through the head of the offending creature. It gave one last snarl; black blood spilling onto the earth below, before it crumpled to the ground. I vaguely wondered how long we could continue like this, battling wave after wave of untamed viciousness. It seemed as if it would have no end.

Just as I was considering turning about and beating a retreat the great cry of the Horn of Gondor split the air, giving us pause. Both of us knew what it meant. Boromir would not use such a horn unless he was in dire straights, with no way of escape.

"Och!" Gimli exclaimed, cracking the skull of a short and stumpy orc with the butt of his axe. "Let us be quick about this laddie! Our friend has need of us!"

So it was that with renewed effort we cut our way through the wave of Uruk-Hai. Our haste seemed to make us tireless, and though I was aware of the cost this would have on my body later, I did not tire. And as it is in many times of great haste, time seemed to slow, and it was as if what should have taken a few minutes took hours.

I knew before we set foot in the clearing that we were too late. I could smell death in the air; tangible and tinged with an immense grief. Aragorn knelt before our fallen friend, his face set with the stony resignation of what had come to pass. Tears glittered behind his lashes but he did not let them fall. Boromir looked peaceful, something he had not looked since we had entered into Lorien so long ago. I felt sorry that I had not been able to know him better. Truly, he seemed a great man from a proud family. I was again reminded of the perilousness of our quest. A quietness descended upon us as we lingered there in our grief. Brightly colored leaves fell about us, but they seemed dimmed in the wake of such tragedy. Gimli wept openly, wiping his tears on the heft of his beard. I held myself in good composure, not wanting to show such weakness in the presence of the spirit of such a great man. After a few minutes, Aragorn rose-covering Boromir's face with his cloak- and appeared to steel himself.

"We must make haste" he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Boromir will have a burial, but we have little time to spare."

We made our way back down to the banks with Boromir's body. It is a strange thing; to carry the limp form of one who seemed so alive only hours ago. I half expected our fallen friend to leap from the confines of his cloak and ask why we were all so forlorn. Silly, childish thoughts, really. I had seen enough of death to know no such thing would come to pass, but I hoped it anyway. I suppose some of the willful superstitions of youth fail to leave even the most weathered of all of us. We came upon the banks soon enough, and were just in time to see Frodo and Sam disappearing into the shadows on the opposite side of the river.

"Quick!" Gimli cried. "If we depart now we can still catch them."

"No" Aragorn said harshly. "I will see Boromir is sent off properly before anything else."

I do not think that Boromir would have asked for more. As we watched the figure of the boat disappear over the Falls, I thought it a proper sendoff. Buried in the depths of a river of Kings; little else seemed more fitting. The Anduin would care for him, I was sure of it. Troubled though he had been in his final days, Boromir was a good and honorable man. I was sorry to see him go.

"We must make haste" Gimli was saying. "The Hobbits are far ahead of us by now."

He splashed back to the remaining boat and began tugging at its moorings. Aragorn remained silent and still, and I cast him a curious glance. He refused my gaze but looked straight ahead, to where our friend struggled with the boat.

"You mean to let them go" I murmured, and Gimli ceased his struggles to stare at Aragorn incredulously.

"Frodo is moving on" was my friend's simple reply. "We cannot follow."

"But then the Fellowship is broken!" Gimli protested.

"Not if we remain true to each other" Aragorn countered passionately. "We must pursue the Uruk-Hai who have taken Pippin and Merry." He cast a glance at the remains of our campsite. "Gather only what you absolutely need, leave what you can. We travel swift and light."

I felt a thrill in my heart as I realized we would run. Gimli looked rather ill at the thought of traversing any large distance at considerable speed on foot. Still, we had no horses and the Falls kept us from going any further by boat. We had no notion of what the Uruk-Hai would do to the Halflings once they reached their intended destination, so time was of essence.

I gazed regretfully at the great fish we had abandoned on the bank. It was very still now, and flies gathered about its mouth and gills. We had not the time to cut it up and dry the meat. It was a waste, but an honest waste. Aragorn shuffled among the discarded packs by the bank, dumping out menial things like forks and spoons and scooping up lembas and waterskins. I attended to similar tasks and took it upon myself to smuggle away some pipeweed; for I knew my two companions would be needing it, though they were unlikely to remember it. Soon, we but waited for Gimli, who still hunted for the three locks of hair Galadriel had bestowed upon him during our departure from Lothlorien. Aragorn's eyes searched the trees above us, his expression haunted. I sensed that something more than Boromir's death weighed heavily on his mind. It presented itself in his stature; his slumped shoulders and resigned expression. Glancing around to make sure Gimli was still preoccupied with gathering provisions, I pulled my friend to the side.

"There is more on your mind than Boromir's death" I said quietly. Aragorn raised an eyebrow in stubborn resistance and I sighed. "I know when something ails you" I chided him gently. "Tell me, so I may share your burden."

"Boromir tried to take the Ring from Frodo" Aragorn muttered after a minute's hesitation.

I gasped.

"But he did not succeed?"

"Nay, something merciful in him relented at the last moment and gave Frodo a chance to escape." Aragorn drew a deep breath and then went on. "I came upon him, and he offered me the Ring."

I looked upon him gently.

"But you did not take it" I pointed out.

"I learned that I am not Isildur" he said simply. "But I will not lie and say the temptation was not great."

"That is why you let Frodo go" I said sagely. "You knew the Ring would eventually consume all of us."

"I did not know it" he said humbly. "But I expected it, and I am not willing to take that chance." He smiled wryly. "Hobbits are made of stern stuff, perhaps stronger even than you or I. If anyone can get the Ring to Mordor, Frodo can." We were silent for a while, watching the stillness of the water; a stark contrast to the tumultuous despair in our hearts. "Did you know he called me his King?" Aragorn whispered.

"That was brave of him" I murmured, putting a hand on my friend's shoulder.

"Ai Legolas!" my friend exclaimed, his voice thick with unshed tears. " 'Twas selfless and almost silly. How can I be King when I cannot keep my people alive?"

"Do not say that" I said urgently, turning him to face me. Stormy grey eyes stared into mine in a soundless torment; their depths pleading with me to make sense of it all. "You will be a good King, and you are a good man."

He smiled weakly, and bent his head to touch our foreheads together. I froze, shocked by the intimate gesture.

"Cormlle naa tanya tel'raa" he murmured. "Would I have half that faith that you have."

"Amin dele ten' le" I replied breathlessly.

Gimli came up to us then, hefting his axe from where he had left it leaning against a tree and giving us a hairy look that was soon followed by a shrug. We drew apart and fell silent as we all wordlessly prepared for the journey ahead. We burned or buried whatever we could not take. It was unlikely we would be tracked, but one can never be too careful. I watched as Aragorn skirted the edges of the woods, occasionally pausing to gather an herb he recognized. His form was lithe but his shoulders were bent with weariness. I worried for his resilience in the days to come but gave no voice to my fears, they wouldn't do anyone any good. After ten minutes we grew impatient to be off and began at a swift but steady jog. As we raced across the landscape I grieved for our fallen friend, and the separation of the Fellowship. Still, Aragorn was right about staying true to each other; so as we came upon the land of the Horse Lords I took heart, and set my eyes on the days that were to come. Behind us, it seemed the Horn of Gondor echoed mournfully for what had come to pass; a single song of desperate sorrow lost on the breeze.

Translations:

"Cormlle naa tanya tel'raa"-"You have the heart of a lion."

"Amin dele ten' le"-"I'm worried about you."

Author's Notes:

I'm disappointed in this chapter, though I'm not sure why. I know I didn't get the interactions verbatim from the text or the movie, I think you will find I may stray in that area. I would like to say I accomplished Boromir's death with a sense of grace, but I feel I caught only a ghost of it. This part of the plot has never resonated deeply with me; and I've never been overfond of Boromir. That may be why I have done so badly. I also feel I did not have enough interaction between Aragorn and Legolas, but that will be rectified in the next chapters. Hmmm. It seems as if things are progressing slowly. (I'm sorry! But I promised myself this would not be a smut!) As always; thank you for reading. I got an Alphasmart! So now I can type wherever I want haha. Next chapter up within a week if all goes well.

R&R