A/N: If there are any weird errors in this chapter (funny spaces, no line breaks for different sections) let me know and I'll fix them. Thanks, and sorry for the long wait!
Chapter 38
Broken
The long days trekking down the river were welcome to the Fellowship, who knew every moment in a boat was one less moment marching on land, yet soon their arms became as weary of rowing as their legs had been of walking.
After the previous night's stop the Fellowship experienced some changes in their boat seating arrangements, in order to provide "greater comfort;" Hermione left the boat that had initially held Harry and Ron and was now seated with Legolas, Gimli, and Pippin. Neville had replaced her.
And so Harry, Ron, Dumbledore, and Neville were all crunched into a boat, and while none were convinced it was any more comfortable, Harry and Ron were not willing to confront Hermione about it. Ron was still sore over his outburst the previous night, and Harry's attempts to speak to Hermione again were rejected. And so the three kept mostly to themselves.
But Harry, Ron, and Hermione's drama was the least of the Fellowship's concerns; Frodo and Sam had spotted a strange creature hiding under a log in the water following the boats, and it was suspected that Gollum had somehow found them after they left Lothlórien. Although not drastically worried, there were mumbled rumors and more than a few glances over the shoulder to try to catch a glimpse of the log.
It was several nights into their journey before Aragorn began to grow doubtful of his knowledge of the river, and the Fellowship paused and sent a scout boat ahead more and more frequently. Despite these efforts, they reached the Sarn Gebir rapids ahead of schedule, and unprepared.
Aragorn attempted to avert the ships from the rapids, but as they were backtracking in the darkness of the night they heard the unmistakable whoosh of arrows. The orcs were on the eastern shore.
Arrows flew past all members of the Fellowship; one struck one of the boats, but not deeply enough to cause any harm, and one even hit its target in the back—Frodo—but his mail shirt deflected it. Legolas and Hermione attempted to fire arrows in the darkness, but they were not rewarded with any enemy groans, and their efforts were soon needed to assist Pippin and Gimli in paddling against the current.
Eventually they managed to backtrack enough, and they thrust their boats toward the western shore and paused.
They were now out of arrow range of the orcs, although their angry cries could be faintly heard over the sound of the rushing river. Legolas and Hermione left their boat to scout out the western shore, and no sooner had they equipped their bows than a shrill cry rang out from above, and a great black cloud that took the form of a terrible winged beast could be seen in the sky.
Legolas notched an arrow, as did Hermione, but fear of the creature itself and of her lack of
significant experience firing at targets in the darkness prevented her from taking a shot.
Legolas did not fire immediately. The enormous beast croaked loudly, and then Legolas, closing his eyes, cried out, "Elbereth, Gilthoniel!"
He opened his eyes and fired.
Hermione stared in awe as the creature screamed and then fell, toppling into the forest on the eastern shore. She looked at Legolas; he almost seemed alight with Elven magic.
"That was incredible," she whispered.
Legolas smiled. "It was not so great as you describe…and certainly not beyond one of your skill."
Hermione swelled with pride and whispered him a thank-you in Elven before returning to the boats, which were preparing to dock in a shallow a little ways down the river.
--
Éowyn had been avoiding him.
Sirius knew this had to be the truth. She kept out of her room most of the time, and when she was in she didn't want to talk. She didn't take him on his walks, and seemed quiet and distant when he did see her.
Sirius now knew Théodred's absence was not the wonderful opportunity he had dreamed of, and figured that her behavior was caused by her worry over him and the king. Sirius was now beginning to actually wish Théodred would return quickly so that Éowyn would be easier to talk to.
When Théodred comes back, things might get a little better…
Éowyn was thinking the same thing. She was shocked by what she had heard Sirius say, and had no idea how to deal with it; with Théodred gone there was no one she could ask for advice, and so the only thing she could think to do was to avoid Sirius until Théodred returned. Then she could ask him for help.
But she had to consider the possibility that Théodred would have no idea. Having loved him for so long, Éowyn had kept a casual eye on any romantic encounters her cousin had had over the years, and none were any more serious than hers, just dinners and formal meetings with the daughters of nobles and foreign royalty. Théodred certainly wasn't experienced in these matters, and might offer meaningless advice about Éowyn's problem with Sirius.
Éowyn hoped that at the very least rejecting Sirius might encourage Théodred.
But there was also Sirius' feelings to consider. Even if the situation somehow came out favorably for her and Théodred, it was unlikely Sirius would benefit.
He is trapped here. His friends are dead. His enemies are close. He needs me to help him…oh, how it must have pained him to hear me talk of Théodred!
He should have just told me his feelings…then I could tell him that I do not love him, and desire only his friendship…nothing more…
Not that that was completely true.
Éowyn was very fond of Sirius. He was intelligent, mysterious, and had a very interesting perspective on things. But he was also very troubled, and had several disturbing aspects to him, leftovers from a dark past. Éowyn did not want to comprehend these aspects.
Sirius made her think, but Théodred made her carefree and happy.
As long as she loved Théodred, she could only imagine, but never consider or pursue, a relationship with Sirius. And that was very firm in her mind.
When Théodred returns, I will share my feelings for him, Éowyn resolved. When Théodred returns, things will get better…
--
"What's going on?"
"I am awaiting news of the battle."
"Battle?"
"Yes, there was a battle just on our doorstep…small in size but not significant. Preliminary reports indicate the death of Prince Théodred, but it has not been confirmed."
"I see…"
Saruman smiled. "You seem concerned, my friend."
Wormtail smiled back. "Oh no, I'm not concerned."
"Glad to hear it."
Wormtail turned away and picked up a book, pretending to be studying it. His forced smile faded.
It took a great deal of mental discipline to resist the calming, soothing effects of Saruman's
words, and to deny himself the blissful obliviousness they brought, but Wormtail had vowed never to be a pet rat again, and he was holding to that oath. Over the past couple of weeks it had become more and more apparent to him the ways in which Saruman was manipulating him, and although he wanted to end it, he knew he did not have the ability. Saruman needed a blind servant; if Wormtail became anything more he would be useless to him. If Wormtail showed any sign of defiance or disobedience Saruman could either use greater power to subdue him or kill him.
But Wormtail recognized that this fear of punishment could be just as manipulative as Saruman's magic words, and he knew he could not allow himself to be used any longer. And so he resolved that, at the first viable opportunity, he would run away—leave not only Saruman but Middle-earth itself behind him, returning to his own familiar world and living among Muggles.
Now was not a viable opportunity.
And so Wormtail was forced to wait, forced to smile and nod and do Saruman's bidding, but was constantly dreaming of his escape and freedom.
Just then an orc bearing a standard rushed into Saruman's study room. "My Lord, there is news," the orc said. "The forces have retreated. A host of men under the command of Éomer the king's nephew was spotted approaching the fords."
"And what will they find?" Saruman asked.
"Death, my Lord," the orc said with a disgusting grin. "The prince's party has been slain to the last man."
"So the prince is dead?"
"Yes, Lord."
"Good."
"Are we to send reinforcements to the ford and attack Éomer's men?"
"No! No, do no such thing…allow them to reclaim their bodies and return to their city."
"Yes, Lord."
The orc left.
"All proceeds according to plan," Saruman said with a smile.
"So now that the prince is dead…" Wormtail said slowly.
"Éomer shall be filled with wrath, but also responsibility," Saruman explained. "He is very
unpopular, and shall be doubly so with Wormtongue's and the king's words against him. He shall advocate attack, and the king shall oppose him."
"Then why not just kill him?"
"Because there are men who would follow him. And men who would not."
"You're dividing Rohan."
"Precisely. Éomer must become a nuisance, not a martyr."
There was a pause, and then Wormtail realized he should say something stupidly servile. "A most brilliant plan, my Lord!"
Saruman beamed. "Why thank you, Wormtail…" he paused. "I actually have something of a job for you."
"You…you do?"
"Yes…I can see that you are rather…anxious."
"Anxious?"
"You wish to help me accomplish my goals…you wish to provide more assistance."
"Of course I do…"
"I have devised a task for you. You will be meeting with a group of Men…they are exiles from Rohan, a tribe from the Black Hills. I wish for their allegiance. You are to convince them to serve us."
"I would be ever so happy to help you…"
"Excellent. I shall assemble a party to accompany you."
Saruman left.
Wormtail smiled.
His opportunity had finally come.
--
"I wonder what day it is."
The others in the boat turned their heads to look at Harry, who was looking up at the sky.
"I wonder," he continued, "what everyone at Hogwarts is doing…it's well past Christmas by now, isn't it? I reckon we've missed all of January, too."
"Indeed," Dumbledore commented. "It is now February…what day, Neville?"
"Eighteenth," Neville said quietly, continuing his rowing.
"February eighteenth?" Ron repeated. "That's impossible! Term hadn't even started before we left…February eighteenth!"
"How do you know what day it is?" Harry asked curiously.
"I've been keeping track," Neville said with a shrug.
"Even after I began to lose count," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Especially after Lothlórien…according to Legolas, in the lands of the elves time seems to move more quickly."
"I wonder when we'll be back," Harry said.
There was a pause.
"I don't think it'll be long now," Neville said, turning to look at the others now. "Mordor isn't far. Ginny can't be more than a couple weeks away, and the return journey will probably be much easier. Maybe only a month or so before we're back home."
"A month," Ron whispered. "It's so easy for us to say it…for us to lose track of time…but for her…"
Dumbledore stopped paddling and put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Mordor is within reach now," he said reassuringly. "Ginny will be with us again very soon."
Ron bowed his head and said no more, but after a few minutes he looked around at the others in his boat, and then the rest of the Fellowship in their boats.
Strolling along in the land of Mordor, stopping for the hobbits to catch their breath and taking lots of rest stops and food stops, all fourteen of them…
It wasn't that Ron was afraid they would take too long to make it to Ginny. He was afraid they wouldn't make it at all.
After a few hours, they stopped the boats again. A fog had descended upon the river, and Aragorn cautioned them to wait a while until it lifted before setting out again.
Ron sat alone during the break, as far away from Legolas and Hermione as he could. He heard raised voices a little ways into the woods behind him and knew that Aragorn and Boromir were
arguing yet again about which way the Fellowship would go next.
After arguing with Aragorn, Boromir came and sat next to Ron.
"He is a fool," Boromir said with a scowl.
"You're still trying to get him to go to Minas Tirith instead."
"It is the safer path." Boromir paused. "You wish to rescue your sister quickly, I know, but without Gondor's help…"
"I know, I agree with you. I think we should go to Minas Tirith first. I've always believed that."
"I am glad to hear it."
"I think if we went to Minas Tirith, not only could we get help, but we could leave some of these others behind."
Boromir nodded. "The younger hobbits, certainly, have no need to be here. Nothing but misery and death await them on the road to Mordor."
Ron sighed. "Frodo would never go, though. He'll agree with Aragorn, no matter what, and everyone else will go with him."
"I will not."
Ron looked up. "What?"
"I have made my decision, and I have told Aragorn of it. Too long have I been away from my homeland. I am returning to Minas Tirith, whether the Fellowship wills it or not."
"You're abandoning us?!"
"I am not abandoning you. It is Minas Tirith I have abandoned, and Minas Tirith I must return to. My father and the people of Gondor know nothing of the danger that awaits them. I was sent out to discover if the Ring of Power was found, and I have learned of wizard's treachery and armies of Orcs on the very borders of Rohan! We may continue to shuffle our feet all the way to Mordor, but my people are in need now. The first strike will be against Rohan, that is almost certain, but when the weak armies of the horse lords collapse the battle will turn to Minas Tirith. I will not let Gondor fall."
There was a pause.
"And there is another thing," Boromir said quietly.
Ron stared at him. Boromir looked nervously around him before continuing.
"The Ring," he whispered. "I can feel its presence so strongly here. Ever since I left that damned elf forest I have felt it. It is becoming more and more difficult to tolerate."
Ron nodded. "I know what you mean."
"Then why do you continue this way?"
"Wh…what do you mean?"
"The Ring is going to Mt. Doom; you are going to Barad-Dur. At some point you would have to part ways. Why not now?"
"I…I don't…"
"Come with me to Minas Tirith," Boromir said, his eyes sparkling. "Come, and see the glory of Gondor…"
"I…I can't possibly…"
"My services may be needed in the city, but I know one who could go with you to Mordor. He would help you rescue your sister."
"But…but the Fellowship…"
"…Would slow you down! My brother knows Ithilien and all the lands before the Black Gate. He could guide you to Mordor."
"Your brother?"
"Come with me," Boromir said.
Ron hesitated. "I…I'll think about it."
"You must think quickly. We are close to the Argonath now. Soon it will be too late to turn toward Minas Tirith."
"Then I'll think quickly."
Boromir left. Ron sat alone for a while longer, and then Aragorn called for everyone to return to the boats as the fog had now lifted.
Boromir was right; they were very close to the Argonath.
It was not long before the Fellowship saw them—the Pillars of the Kings, tall, grey statues standing sentinel before the great realm of Men. Seeing the great monuments, no one in the
Fellowship could deny that they had reached a great turning point in their journey.
Ron stared up at the faces of the old kings, and then looked at Harry, Neville, and Dumbledore.
To Minas Tirith, he decided. I'll go with Boromir to Minas Tirith.
--
Éomer insisted upon carrying his cousin into the palace himself; he would let no one else touch him.
Théoden was resting and not in his throne, but Wormtongue was sitting on the steps when Éomer entered with Théodred in his arms. He immediately stood, mouth agape, as Éomer walked right past him without even a look.
"What is this?!" Wormtongue asked rushing to his side.
Éomer ignored him. He brought Théodred to the room where Théoden had been staying during his illness, and shouted for some guards to retrieve any healers that could be found.
Éomer knelt at Théodred's bedside and grasped his hand. The prince's pulse was faint, but he had survived this long left for dead. He may yet live.
"My cousin," Éomer whispered, holding his hand tightly, and then, with tears in his eyes, "my brother…I will not lose you…"
Several healers who had been tending to Théoden during his illness rushed into the room to help the prince. Éomer backed off.
Éowyn, he thought suddenly, and he ran to her room to get her.
Éowyn was awake despite the late hour, and appeared to be just preparing for bed. Éomer wasted no time, and said grimly, "Théodred is wounded. He may not live."
Éowyn covered her mouth, then jumped out of bed, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders. Her dog Sirius followed at her heels, and it looked almost concerned, as though it could sense its master's distress.
They entered the sickroom, and when the healers gave Éomer a grim look clearly stating that there was nothing they could go, he dismissed them. Éowyn, with tears in her eyes, knelt before her dying cousin's bed. Although he was still unconscious, Éowyn whispered to him words that Éomer could not hear.
It seemed Théodred would not wake, that he would never wake, but then his eyes slowly opened.
"Wha…" Théodred said.
"Théodred!" Éowyn cried, and she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "You are safe now…you are home…you shall be well…"
"I am not well," Théodred said weakly.
Éowyn blinked, unsure what to say.
"Did he…tell you?" Théodred asked, his voice almost a whisper.
"What?" Éowyn asked.
"Did…Sirius tell you?"
Éowyn opened her mouth, staring confusedly at Théodred. Éomer frowned. Sirius? The dog? The injury has damaged his mind as well…
"Sirius," Théodred said, trying to sit up; Éowyn gently pushed him back down.
"Shh, my cousin," she said softly.
"Sirius," Théodred said firmly. "I must speak with him…did he tell you?"
"You are…you are not thinking well, my cousin…"
"Tell him, when you see him next…tell him that I want him…to take care of you…"
"Théodred…"
Théodred closed his eyes.
"Théodred," Éowyn said, blinking back tears, "you must…be strong…"
"I am very tired," Théodred said, his eyes still closed.
"We must bring the king," Éowyn said, looking over at Éomer. "He must see his son before…"
But Théodred was gone.
There was a long period of silence. Éowyn's eyes were welled up with tears, but they did not escape, and her face was grave.
"Sirius," Éomer said quietly, breaking the silence, and he stared down at the dog.
"My cousin spoke no sense upon his death," Éowyn whispered. "One may only wonder what he could have meant."
--
"This is the lawn of Parth Galen," Aragorn informed the Fellowship. "We shall stop here for a time."
The Fellowship left their boats and gathered on the beautiful grassy shore. There had been no more orc attacks since the night when Legolas had shot the strange, shadowy creature.
After a couple hours of mostly silent resting, Aragorn stood importantly as though about to make a speech, and, addressing every member of the Fellowship, said, "This is the moment in which we must make our final decision. This is the point of no return, the place from which we go to Mordor either joined in Fellowship or separated." He looked at Frodo. "This is the moment for you, Ringbearer, to tell us what you have mind to do."
Frodo hesitated under the stares of the whole Fellowship. Boromir in particular was staring at him imploringly.
"I…must think on it a bit," Frodo said. "Rest a while longer. I shall go for a walk in the forest."
Frodo turned and left, giving a halting glance to Sam to indicate that he wanted to be alone.
A few minutes passed in silence, which Boromir broke by offering to get firewood. Ron immediately agreed to go with him.
The two walked off into the forest, in the same direction Frodo had gone.
"He will not choose to go to Minas Tirith," Boromir said bitterly. "He made his decision long ago…Aragorn made it for him. He merely wishes to give the illusion that he is considering other options."
"I am going to come with you," Ron said quietly.
"Then you shall receive a hero's welcome in my city," Boromir said, grinning. "You may stay, for a time, in a place of glory far greater than any elf house, and then you shall depart with my brother for Mordor."
Ron smiled, then said, "We probably should get some firewood."
"Yes…I shall go this way, and you shall go that way. If Aragorn or another should come upon one of us he would not think that we were scheming against him."
"Good idea."
So Ron and Boromir split ways.
Ron picked up pieces of firewood, thinking to himself what would happen when Frodo announced his decision to continue straight on to Mordor, and Ron announced his decision to leave.
Dumbledore will be angry. Probably try to lecture me on how childish my decision is. Hermione too. And Harry…Harry will think I've betrayed him. But I don't care. Hermione can snog Legolas all she wants, and Neville and the hobbits can hold everyone back, and by the time Dumbledore and Harry get to Barad-Dur to kill Voldemort, I'll already have gotten Ginny. And I'll bring her home…not Harry…me…
Ron continued walking along until he had a large stack of firewood. He started heading back the way he had come when he suddenly heard shouting.
Ron approached a clearing in the forest and saw a terrifying sight.
Frodo was staggering backward, falling to the ground, as Boromir lunged at him, shouting, "It should be mine!"
Ron dropped his stack of firewood; Frodo heard, turned to him and cried, "Help!"
Ron stared at him.
"Help!" Frodo repeated, but when Ron showed no signs of desiring to help him, Frodo put on the Ring and vanished.
"You little…" Boromir started, and then he stopped suddenly; he seemed dazed for a moment, then he went into a panic. "Frodo?!" he cried. "Frodo, I am sorry! I did not…I am sorry! Where are you, Frodo?! Please, forgive me! Forgive me!"
Boromir fell to his knees. Ron hesitantly approached.
"I meant no harm," Boromir sobbed. "I meant no harm to him…only…something took hold over me…"
"You tried to take the Ring?"
"I did not…I…I could not have…something took me…a madness…it was not my thought to take the Ring…"
"I understand," Ron said quietly. "When I was holding the Ring, on that mountain…it wasn't me either."
"Then you must find him! You must tell him that I meant no harm to him…it is dangerous for him to put on the Ring…"
"I'll find him. You get back to the others."
Boromir stood and rushed back toward the camp; Ron ran up the hill in the direction he imagined Frodo may have gone.
"Frodo!" Ron called. "Frodo, it's me, Ron! It's all right, Boromir's all right now! You don't have to worry! Frodo!"
Boromir could hear Ron's cries as he headed in the opposite direction, but before he reached the camp, he heard something else.
An orc horn?
Boromir ascended a small hill and stared out over some ruins. It was difficult to see through the trees, but there were definitely orcs out there.
Boromir took up the horn of Gondor and let out a blast that Aragorn could not ignore.
And he didn't ignore it. Back at the camp, Aragorn heard it very clearly.
"The Horn of Gondor!" he cried, immediately taking up arms. "Boromir is in need!"
There was a scramble as Aragorn, Legolas, Hermione, and Gimli prepared to follow the sound of Boromir's hornblasts; Sam approached Aragorn hesitantly.
"Do you think Mr. Frodo's with him?" he asked worriedly.
"And Ron?" Harry asked.
"I hope so," Aragorn said. He hesitated a moment, then turned back to the confused others.
"Find Frodo and Ron," he commanded of Dumbledore and Harry.
"What should we do?" Merry asked.
"Remain here. If the enemy approaches, retreat farther into the woodlands. There is a large ruin at the top of a hill. Fall back to that position if this shore is taken."
--
"Are you all right?"
There was a pause.
"I have been thinking," Éowyn said quietly.
Since Théodred's death she had been absent from her room where Sirius had gone to wait for
her. Now here she was, shivering slightly after what was probably a long walk outside in the cold dark.
"I know how hard…" Sirius started.
"I know what Théodred meant," Éowyn interrupted.
"You…what?"
"When Théodred said that…that you were supposed to tell me something. I know what it was."
Sirius blinked; he suddenly feared that Éowyn might actually be angry with him for concealing her cousin's love. "I…I can explain…"
"There is no need for you to explain. I understand that it would have been most…unpleasant…for you to have told me, especially given the way I went on about Théodred."
"What?"
"I heard you. One night, as I was falling asleep, I heard you whisper that you loved me."
Sirius' jaw dropped; he struggled to think of something to say, but before he could come up with anything Éowyn continued.
"You told Théodred about your feelings," she said. "He advised that you should tell me outright, but you neglected his advice. I imagine he himself had no feelings for me, but wanted you and I to be together. That is why he said you should take care of me…that is why on his deathbed he tried to make sure that I knew how you felt."
Sirius swallowed and was silent. He had been ready to tell Éowyn the truth—that it was Théodred's own feelings which the dying prince had wanted her to know of—but now he wanted to see where this was going.
"I remember so very clearly when we first met," Éowyn continued. "I found you a very intriguing man. But when I looked into your eyes…I saw darkness in your soul. I saw that some terrible grief haunts you. And somehow…that turned me against you. I did not want any part of your grief.
"My parents died when I was young. Since their death the kingdom they died for has been decaying. There is a great sadness among my people, almost a recognition that the end is near. In my brother I see it strongest. I believe that turned me against him as well. I never grew very close to Éomer. There was always a great distance between us. His pessimism disturbed me.
"Théodred never possessed this sadness. In him there was ever love of life and joy at all things. He could see a brilliant future where others saw doom. I suppose I cleaved to him, to his joy,
because I could find none in myself. He gave me strength.
"But now he is gone, and my uncle the King is near gone himself. Éomer speaks of betrayal by Saruman. Wormtongue's voice rules the court. My hopes of a happy future with Théodred were naught but a childish dream."
Éowyn bowed her head. There were no tears in her eyes; she spoke gravely, as she had at Théodred's death.
"It's easy to lose hope," Sirius said, tentatively reaching out his hand and lifting her chin. "I know…I lost hope once…I lost the person I loved most in the world…and I believed that my sole purpose was to kill a man, that if I could do that then I could lay down and die and end my life…but I've found there's so much more than that…I found my godson…and…and I found you."
"Théodred was a good man," Éowyn said, staring right into Sirius' eyes, "but he was not a wise man. He ignored horrors that should not be ignored, and it was for this reason and no other that I loved him more than I loved you."
"I…"
"Fate brought you to me. Twice. You suffered a great loss before you could come back here, and now I have suffered mine. Perhaps…perhaps we are meant to be together."
"You…you really…"
Éowyn kissed him.
--
Ginny opened her eyes and screamed.
Lucius Malfoy knelt next to her, staring down at her face; he had been reaching out a hand toward her, which reflexively retracted after the scream.
"What do you want?" Ginny demanded, forcing herself to sit in an upright position despite how weak she was.
"My son," Lucius said. "I want him to leave this terrible place with me."
"Why are you here?"
"My son is very attached to you."
There was a pause.
"Are we going to escape?" Ginny whispered.
Lucius smiled sadly. "I had considered it…but it is all very clear to me now how this must end."
He pulled out a knife.
"Wh-what?!" Ginny cried.
"Your death would settle all matters," Lucius said, his eyes glimmering with madness. "You see…we could all leave this dreadful place. Not just here, not just this tower, but the whole bloody world…without you, there is no reason for any of us to stay, is there?"
"I…I'm not that important…"
"I think you are."
"Voldemort…He'll kill you if you touch me…"
"Voldemort will listen to my son. He will let us go."
"And your son? Draco would…he would be angry, if you killed me…he…like you said, he's attached to me…"
"Do not try to fool me!" Lucius spat. "I know your ways. I know your magic."
"I don't know what you're…"
"You lured my son here, day after day, just as you tried to lure me…rather than tell him to escape from this place, you convinced him that it was not harming him…you numbed him to its effects…"
"What?! I haven't done anything to your son! Please…"
"You provide a small candle in a deep darkness, and you lure all to it!"
"Please," Ginny sobbed, "I never meant to do anything to your son…he hasn't even spoken to me in days…he doesn't see me anymore…"
"And that will make this much easier. You are the last thread by which he is tied to this place. Once that thread has been cut, he may leave with me."
"I don't underst…"
The door slammed open.
"Draco!" Ginny wailed. "Draco, please…"
"I know it is difficult," Lucius said, standing up and facing his son, still grasping the knife tightly. "I know you believe she can save you, but nothing can save you from the pressing darkness…"
"You are mad, Father," Draco said quietly. "And you would harm an innocent girl because of something you do not understand."
"You will see," Lucius said, slowly turning toward Ginny. "When she is dead, you will s…"
Draco lunged at his father. Ginny crawled back, staring, wide-eyed, as the father and son fought over the knife in Lucius' hand, trying not to cut themselves as they fell to the ground and wrestled for it…
And then Draco, smashing his father's hand repeatedly against the ground, finally managed to loosen his grip, and the knife went skittering off across the floor.
Draco wasted no time freeing himself from his father's desperately snatching hands; he ran to the knife, picked it up, and pointed it at his father.
"You would kill me, my son?" Lucius asked darkly. "Because that is what it will take. Either you must kill me, or the Dark Lord himself will give me the slow and painful death he believes I deserve for trying to escape this place."
"Draco," Ginny whispered, terrified by the enraged look in Draco's eyes. "You can't…you can't possibly…"
"I was only trying to protect you, my son," Lucius said, his eyes filling with tears. "I was only trying to tear you from the grasp this Darkness has on you…I was trying to spare you the fate of so many others who walked the path of the Death Eaters…to spare you becoming like the Dark Lord himself…"
Draco took a step forward, and seemed for a moment like he was going to lunge at his father with the knife, but then he tossed it aside.
"Oh, thank you, my son," Lucius said; he fell to his knees and then moved toward his son, reaching his arms up. "Thank you for…"
Draco grabbed him by the throat.
Ginny screamed, first in surprise, then in terror, then in hysterical protestation as Lucius' body flailed wildly, Draco's grasp on his father's throat tightening. Ginny sobbed as she screamed, letting out unintelligible words as she begged Draco to stop…
But he did not stop. Lucius suffocated, and Draco stood over his dead body, heaving and looking murderous.
"How could you," Ginny sobbed in a choked voice. "How could you…"
Draco rounded on her.
"He was going to kill you."
"How could you…"
"If I had let him live he would have killed you."
"Your own father…"
"He was going to kill you!" Draco screamed, and he grabbed Ginny's robes and pulled her upright.
"Let go…"
"You should be grateful! You should be thanking me!"
"Let go…"
"I should have let him kill you! He deserved to live! You don't!"
Draco grabbed her throat.
"Draco!"
Draco blinked; Voldemort stood in the doorway, a look of shock on his face.
Draco immediately let go of Ginny, who slumped to the ground, whimpering in terror.
Voldemort's eyes moved to Lucius' body. "Is he…"
"I killed him."
Voldemort blinked, then said quietly, "Come with me."
Draco, feeling remarkably devoid of emotion after his frenzy, followed Voldemort out of Ginny's room and into Voldemort's study.
"Sit down," Voldemort offered.
Draco did not sit.
"Tell me what happened," Voldemort said.
"I killed him."
"Why?"
"He tried to kill Ginny."
"Why did you not merely disarm him, and then come to me?"
"Because I…because I wanted to kill him."
"You wanted to?"
Draco said no more.
"Do not think…that I am upset with you, Draco," Voldemort said softly. "Quite the contrary…I am most…most proud of you."
Draco's eyes widened.
"I could see that Lucius was beginning to lose his mind," Voldemort said. "He was of no use to me…but for you…I knew that you had potential. Such potential. But there was only one way in which…you could truly prove yourself to me…"
"You wanted me to kill my father?" Draco whispered.
Voldemort smiled, and it was not the smile of an evil Dark Lord, but of a father proud of his son. "Yes…you see…when I was your age I killed my father. It was an important step for me…one which I did not expect you to reach so soon…I am so very proud of you, Draco."
Draco blinked, then turned and left the room.
--
"Six!" Hermione shouted cheerfully.
"Ten!" Legolas chimed back.
"Bah, and when did you begin this practice of counting your slain?" Gimli asked, burying his large ax into an orc's torso.
"Just…this very battle," Legolas replied, interrupted briefly as he notched an arrow; after firing, he happily announced, "eleven!"
"Seven…and eight!" Hermione said. "You'll have to start counting, too, Gimli."
"Oh, I am so far behind now," Gimli said with a smile. "But come the next battle, we'll see who has rid the land of more orc scum!"
"You should be glad that I do not count," Aragorn said, smiling as two headless orcs fell to the ground.
The remaining orcs, seeing that they were being routed by people who were not their targets, turned and fled.
"They flee to find the hobbits, I suspect," Gimli said quietly, the humor gone from his face.
"Merry and Pippin are in hiding," Aragorn said reassuringly. "And by this time Sam must have found Frodo, or we would have heard word of it. There are certainly no larger groups of orcs than the ones which we…"
Aragorn was interrupted by the blowing of Boromir's horn.
"I guess you miscalculated," Hermione said, and as the four started to go off in that direction, they heard cries for help.
Harry came running toward them from the opposite direction. "We found Frodo, but so did the orcs…Ron and Dumbledore are trying to fight them off…there's too many of them, they'll be destroyed…"
"Frodo is our priority," Aragorn said suddenly and firmly. "We must protect him."
"Boromir?" Legolas asked worriedly.
"He will have to wait."
"We can't leave him," Hermione said.
"The young hobbits hide near the shore, and it was from there that Boromir's horn seemed to have sounded," Gimli said. "They may be in danger."
"We cannot let the Enemy find the Ring," Aragorn said.
"But…" Hermione said.
"We have hurry!" Harry said angrily.
"I will go to Boromir," Hermione said.
"Very well," Aragorn said. "The rest shall follow Harry."
"She cannot go alone!" Legolas cried.
"I will go with her," Gimli said quickly. "Go on, go on! Frodo will need your help!"
There was a moment of hesitation, and then Legolas, Aragorn, and Harry ran off in the opposite direction.
"Come now," Gimli said, turning toward Boromir's direction.
Hermione smiled. She gripped her bow tightly, ready to stack up double-digit kills. When I see Legolas again, he'll be amazed at how many I've gotten…
Gimli and Hermione rushed down toward Boromir's location; there was indeed a great many orcs, all surrounding Boromir. They were taunting him and jeering at him, clearly thinking him outmatched. Gimli and Hermione crept up from behind the orc rabble as Boromir desperately clung to his shield and raised his sword.
"We'll sneak up behind them, lass, and whack the two archers closest," Gimli whispered. "They won't know what hit them!"
"You whack, I'll shoot from here," Hermione said, peering into the crowd. "That one with the white paint all over his face, the big one, looks like the leader. I'll see if I can get a shot at him."
"Good idea."
But while Hermione and Gimli were discussing, Merry, Neville, and Pippin, who had been in hiding on the other side of Boromir, suddenly revealed themselves, not realizing help had finally come for Boromir.
"Hey!" Merry shouted. "Over here!"
"Yeah!" Neville cried, and he, Merry, and Pippin ran off deeper into the woods.
The orcs howled, and Gimli, cursing under his breath, ran forward and took out the two archers who were distracted by the hobbits and didn't see his approach.
Then, everything became chaotic.
The slow-minded orcs faced a moment of indecision as they stared from Boromir to Gimli and Hermione to Neville and the escaping hobbits. Then the large orc whom Hermione had pegged as the leader shouted, "The Halflings! Find the Halflings!"
The orcs obeyed his command, chasing after Merry and Pippin and Neville. Gimli ran after them, but Hermione hesitated when she saw that the orc leader had not followed; he was staring at Boromir with an evil grin on his face.
Boromir raised his sword; the giant orc swung his crude weapon.
Hermione bit her lip; Gimli and the orcs pursuing the hobbits would be lost to her if she didn't go after them now, but Boromir, who looked weary and may not be a match for this orc even at his best, had no help. Aragorn and the others were too far away to call for assistance.
After a few seconds Hermione decided to take advantage of the fact that the huge orc didn't seem to have noticed that she hadn't run off with Gimli. Carefully stepping over the bodies of the two orcs Gimli had slain, Hermione notched an arrow and prepared to aim.
This would be tricky. The orc and Boromir kept exchanging positions as each fought ferociously and very closely. Hermione hadn't missed a target yet, and decided the orc's neck would be the best place to strike, if she could get a good shot at it.
Hermione concentrated on the moving target, wondering how she could pull this off, when suddenly she remembered how Legolas had slain the giant flying beast. She closed her eyes for a moment and cried out, "Elbereth, Gilthoniel!"
Just as clearly as she had seen it shining on Legolas' face after he fired, she could now feel it coursing through her—the magic of the elves.
She let loose the arrow, feeling wonderful, her whole body uplifted…
She was still smiling when she first saw it, and the smile was frozen on her face as it slowly began to dawn on her that her arrow was sticking out of Boromir's neck, and a fountain of blood was spurting from the wound where it had impacted. She blinked confusedly as the giant orc smiled evilly at her before turning and running in the direction his comrades had gone, not even bothering to attack her.
Boromir fell to his knees, grasping feebly at the arrow and his bloody neck, and then keeled over sideways. He made awful sputtering sounds as he writhed in the grass.
"Here, this way!" shouted Aragorn's voice from the distance behind her.
Hermione unfroze and was seized with a panic. Aragorn was coming. They were all coming. They were going to find Boromir twitching on the ground with Hermione's arrow in his neck.
Hermione looked around her; her eyes rested on one of the two dead orcs near her feet. Frantically, she grabbed the orc's bow, cut the string with her knife, and threw it a few feet away. Then she cast her quiver onto the ground, the arrows spilling out. She took her own bow and placed it in the dead orc's hand, then grabbed the orc's other hand and, with its spiky gauntlets, scratched her own face until she was sure she was bleeding. Finally, she pulled out a dagger Aragorn had given her and buried it in the orc's neck.
She sat down on the ground and tears began to fall from her eyes.
"Hermione!"
It was Aragorn; he ran toward her, saw Boromir, and froze. Legolas also froze. It was only those two; Harry, Ron, and Dumbledore were nowhere to be seen.
Legolas slowly walked toward the now still and quite dead Boromir; Aragorn rounded on Hermione. "What happened?"
"He w-was…my bow…they took it, the…orc took my bow and…his bow broke, you see, so he…took mine, and…then I killed him, but it was too late…he…"
Hermione was interrupted by a great cry of "No!" from the forest to the south.
"Gimli!" Legolas shouted, and he and Aragorn ran into the woods.
When they returned, Gimli grimly looked at the dead body of Boromir and then informed Hermione that Merry, Pippin, and Neville were gone. They had been taken by the orcs.
"I got the large one, though, the leader," Gimli said. "He came up from behind me, but my axe set him right…"
"This bow has been tainted," Legolas whispered, staring down at Hermione's bow clutched in the orc's hand. "I must make a new one…it shall never touch honest hands again."
Honest? Hermione thought bitterly, and then she looked up to see Gimli staring down at her with a confused frown. His eyes turned toward the dead orc gripping her bow.
He killed that orc! He knows!
Gimli looked at Boromir's dead body, and then Hermione. His eyes widened.
"Where are Ron and Harry and the others?" Hermione asked suddenly, breaking Gimli's stare.
"They…chose not to return," Aragorn said mournfully. "Once we had slain the orcs who attacked them they went in search of Frodo and Sam. Ron said that they had snuck to the shore and were departing for Mordor."
"Without us?!" Hermione cried incredulously.
"The Fellowship is broken," Legolas whispered.
"We have failed," Gimli said.
"We have not failed," Aragorn said resolutely. "Their path takes them to Mordor. Ours shall go in another direction."
"What direction?" Hermione asked.
Aragorn thought for a moment. "Merry, Pippin, and Neville cannot be left to torture and certain death at the hands of those orcs."
"Yes," Legolas said. "Else Boromir would have died for nothing."
"We shall track them," Aragorn decided. "But first…first we must rest awhile, and I must prepare Boromir for his final journey, for he fought bravely and deserves nothing less than the respect owed to the greatest of warriors."
--
"Oh, Sam," Frodo said softly. "It almost feels wrong to leave the…"
"Hey, Frodo!" called a voice from the shore.
Frodo and Sam stopped paddling; Harry, Ron, and Dumbledore stood on the shore.
"You thought you were leaving without us?" Harry called jokingly.
Frodo and Sam stared solemnly back. They were not joking.
"We travel to Mordor!" Dumbledore protested. "Why should we not travel together?"
"I would allow it," Frodo said, "save for him."
Frodo stared at Ron.
"How dare you!" Ron shouted. "I've done nothing! It was Boromir, not me!"
"You did nothing," Frodo retorted. "And that is precisely why you cannot come."
"What's he talking about?" Harry asked Ron.
"Fine!" Ron shouted. "Go on, then! Destroy your stupid Ring, you and Sam! See how far you lot can make it without me and Harry and Professor Dumbledore! Just see how far!"
Frodo turned away and started paddling; Sam joined in.
"I suppose it is Frodo's choice if he wishes to continue alone," Dumbledore said slowly.
"He should have let us go together," Harry said bitterly.
"Who needs him?" Ron said. "We'll take our own boat, and we'll rescue Ginny."
As the three got into a boat, Ron tried to banish the nagging thought of his promise to Boromir—
that he would go to Minas Tirith with him. It had seemed such a wonderful plan at the time, but since Harry and Dumbledore were about to set off, and especially since he had seen the terrible look in Boromir's eyes when he went after the Ring, Ron felt he had no other choice but to betray his friend.
He'll understand…when he hears what happened, he'll understand.
--
Éomer slammed the door behind him. Perhaps he heard that.
But it was unlikely King Théoden had heard the door. He hadn't heard the news of his son's death, not even after Éomer attempted to explain it to him for several minutes. The old king merely peered at Éomer curiously through glassy eyes. Without Wormtongue present, it seemed, the king could comprehend nothing that was spoken to him.
I need strength…
Éomer had been up all night attending to the matter of Théodred's death. He had not seen Éowyn since their cousin had spoken his dying words to her. He remembered the look of cold acceptance on her face, the look of strength, and decided that if anyone could console him, it would be her.
As he approached her bedroom door, however, he heard a terrible sound, and quickened his pace. When he opened the door, he stared at her in shock. "Éowyn?!"
Éowyn was sobbing hysterically, her hair ragged, her eyes swollen and her whole face wet. Her bedsheets were in disarray and she lay curled up on one end, hugging her knees.
"He's gone!" she screamed. "He's gone…"
"Éowyn!" Éomer cried, rushing forward and throwing his arms around her; she struggled to escape his grasp, but he held on tightly until she stopped fighting.
"He's gone," she cried hoarsely. "He's gone…"
"Éowyn, it will be all right…"
"No, no…"
"Éowyn, he would never want you to be like this over his death, never…you know how he loved you…he would never want you to grieve…"
Éowyn closed her eyes and shook her head.
Éomer swallowed. He had never seen his sister like this, not even when their parents had died.
She had always dealt well with tragedies.
"Éowyn," Éomer whispered, "he will be waiting for you, for both of us. Waiting in the Halls of our people, with our greatest warriors. He died so bravely, so honorably. He will be waiting, with our father."
Éowyn opened her eyes and stopped shaking. "Yes," she said distantly. "Yes…Théodred died very bravely…a very brave man, he was…so brave…"
"He died in battle against a terrible foe, and we shall have vengeance," Éomer said. "The orcs who struck him down had the emblem of Saruman. War is coming, and once the king has recovered, we shall muster the Rohirrim and ride against that terrible old wizard. We shall destroy Isengard."
"Yes…yes, of course," Éowyn said, clearing her throat and seeming to have recovered. "We shall…we shall ride…"
"Now get out of this dark prison," Éomer said, looking around her bedroom. "Take a walk outside. Go out to the stables, breathe the fresh air. You can even bring that mangy dog of yours…" Éomer looked over the side of the bed, but Sirius was not there.
"What happened to the dog?" Éomer asked.
"He's gone," Éowyn whispered.
--
"Where are you going?"
"Don't know."
The Mouth of Sauron folded his arms. "Brilliant plan."
"It isn't a plan," Draco said quietly and darkly. "I don't have a plan. I don't need a plan. I just need to go."
"Have you told your master?"
"I'm going to, in a minute."
"And that girl prisoner?"
"I don't give a damn what she knows. She'll figure out soon enough that I'm gone."
The Mouth gave a wide smile. "I see…well, I was sent to inform you that the Dark Lord is rather impressed with you."
"That…oh, you mean…Sauron?"
"Yes…he felt the murder, you see."
"Felt it?"
"Or rather sensed it. Regardless, he finds you quite promising."
"Does he now," Draco muttered.
"Since you do not seem to care where you are going anyway…perhaps you could do a bit of a favor for Him?"
"What kind of favor?"
"The Dark Lord is prepared to offer you a very intelligent beast as your transportation…I…believe you rode one to get here."
"One of those things? How can I get it?"
"If you promise to look for the Ring."
"The Ring? Sauron's Ring?"
"Yes."
"How am I supposed to look for it? It's a Ring, isn't it? Kind of hard to spot."
"The River Anduin is the most probable route that the Ringbearer has taken…they intend to bring it to Minas Tirith, you see. That way they can use the Ring as a weapon from the seat of their power."
"Who?"
"The Men."
"So you want me to look for some River?"
"Yes…and kill the Ringbearer, retrieve the Ring, and return it to the Dark Lord."
"I'm not an assassin. I'm not even a Death Eater."
"The Dark Lord has confidence in you. Your master has also spoken very highly of you."
"If I see your Ring, I'll get it. If I don't, too bad."
"Just as an incentive…the Dark Lord is prepared to give you immortality if you return his Ring."
Draco blinked. "Hm."
"Interested?"
"Sort of."
"I will have arrangements made for one of the Nazgul's beasts to be given to you."
"Thanks."
The Mouth smiled and walked off.
Draco turned and went to Voldemort's study. As usual, the Dark Lord was reading some obscure text, but unusually he rose from his seat and faced Draco, smiling.
"Draco," he said. "Feeling well, I trust?"
"I'm leaving."
Voldemort's smile vanished. "Leaving? Why?"
"I don't know. I just have to…get out of here, is all."
There was a pause, and then Voldemort smiled again. "A…holiday, of sorts," he said. "I understand…perhaps you could pay a visit to Wormtail in Isengard and give me a ring on the palantir."
"I'll see what I can do."
"Excellent…I do hope you return soon, the place will be rather dismal without you."
"I'll return when I'm ready."
"Of course."
Draco turned and left.
Voldemort stared at the closed door, and his smile melted away. For a few seconds, he just stood there, and then, trembling, he sat down. His hand slowly clenched into a fist; he slammed it onto the table, then closed his eyes.
A single tear escaped.
--
Hermione sat with her back against a tree, her eyes closed.
"Lassie."
She opened her eyes. There was no one else nearby; Aragorn had gone off for a walk in the woods, and Legolas was nowhere to be seen.
"Are you all right?" Gimli asked concernedly.
"How could I be all right?" Hermione whispered.
"You should have told the truth," Gimli said slowly.
"No," Hermione said firmly. "They can't know…they can't ever know."
"If you keep this from…"
"Good night," Hermione said, and she stood up and walked off into the woods.
She walked lightly, carefully, her mind wandering, until a sound brought her back to reality. It was a soft, hissing sound, and as she drew nearer to it, she recognized it.
Hermione peered around a tree and saw, glinting in the moonlight, a snake ring on a finger stroking a snake, and then a face.
Aragorn was speaking Parseltongue.
Hermione almost fell over; she grabbed onto the tree for support and then walked as quickly and quietly away as she could, filled with suspicion and doubt and fear, and then one ironic thought:
Guess I'm not the only one who's hiding something.
END OF PART ONE
--
A/N: Please vote in my poll and let me know whether or not I should add Part Two chapters as a continuation of this story or create a new story as a sequel. Thanks!