Chapter 41:

The Breaking of the Fellowship

Author's Note: I like the direction this chapter took, but I'm definitely going to clean it up at some point after NaNoWriMo. This whole story will likely get a full editing makeover once I'm finished with it. Is that something I should have done first before actually posting this bad boy?

Yes, yes it is, hush hush!

Anyway, can we take a moment to celebrate the fact that we're no longer in Fellowship of the Ring? That's right, folks! As of Nov 22nd, 2020, we are officially out of the first LOTR book and have begun going through The Two Towers and boy does it feel good!

Enjoy!

Aracasse woke feeling the warmth of her husband surrounding her. His smell - as was typical of a person living long in the wild - was slowly becoming unpleasant, but even that she found comfort in. She glanced at the sky and noted the absence of the moon and the black fading to a dull grey. Instead of rising and disturbing her sleeping husband, Ara continued to lay with him and took the time to ponder current events in a newer light. She felt safe and that feeling frightened her more than she'd initially been prepared to admit. If she continued to allow herself to associate safety with Aragorn, there was a possibility that she could let her guard down and forget he was a mere human. The disarming part about the entire thing was that he wanted her to associate safety with him.

Years of taking her own safety into her hands and refusing to associate those around her as refuges from the harsh realities of life left a great stone wall around her heart. That wall was once nigh on impenetrable and Aragorn of all people managed to chip a gaping hole through it. Destined ones did that, she supposed, and it was doubtful there was anything she could truly do to put a stop to it. She didn't want to stop it. It was liberating to begin trusting someone with her life again. The feeling had been buried by years upon years of fear and self-loathing. While the hatred she'd reserved for herself had long since faded, the fear that she would lead to the deaths of those who loved her lingered. Meeting Aragorn forced her to confront that fear. Sometimes she overcame it and other times she didn't. Fighting alone had been another bad habit cultivated over many decades she needed to break. Her tendency to jump into danger without caring much for her personal safety bit her in the ass at Stonehenge. She hadn't needed to attack The Morrighan during the initial assault and had Ara waited just a bit longer she wouldn't have fallen into Arda. While she didn't regret the instance - it led to much good in her life - she couldn't deny the foolishness of her actions.

Behind her, Aragorn stirred and nuzzled his bearded chin into the back of her neck. His lips graced the back of her neck. Her breath hitched and warmth rushed through her. Was he awake? Carefully, she craned her neck and caught the mischievous glint in his blue eyes. Ara smiled and started to shift herself around, but his arms tightened their grip - keeping her in place.

"Stay like this a little longer," he whispered.

She blushed. In answer, Aragorn kissed the base of her neck easily accessible with her braided hair. She steadied her breathing and resisted the urge to arch her back against him. It wouldn't have surprised her if that was the reaction he wanted to pull from her. He chuckled - confirming her suspicions. For a moment, Ara wondered if he planned to continue, but Aragorn's chin settled against her shoulder where it remained for some time.

"I missed you," he said, after a while. "I do not wish to be separated again."

"Neither do I," she said.

Aragorn sighed, his breath hitting the crook of her neck, "Yet, I understand your reasoning for going directly to Minas Tirith should my path take the Ring to Mordor directly. It has made my deciding a path more difficult."

Ara smiled bitterly. I never should have made that promise without talking to him first, she thought. It likely wouldn't have changed much, but maybe a better understanding between us could have been reached?

"I'm sorry," she said.

Apologizing was difficult; especially since it kicked her directly in the heart of her pride - again. Her pride didn't matter - it never mattered - all she wanted to do was restore a semblance of peace to her husband before the inevitable decision was finally reached.

"If my path doesn't take me with you to Gondor, promise me you'll be cautious?"

As the first rays of sunlight peeked over the hills and glittered across the river, Ara realized that restoring peace to Aragorn was impossible at this moment. She couldn't promise to break her tendency to act without giving input to others. It was highly likely she would die - or worse - in an effort to protect Boromir from the enemy. She could lie, and promise him such anyway, but Ara felt that if any strength was to exist between them being as honest as possible with her new husband was better than swearing an oath she didn't mean.

It would have taken a long conversation for her to reveal all to him and the stirring of the rest of the Fellowship alerted Ara to the reality that such time was completely unavailable. Legolas was first to rise - she wasn't entirely sure the elf actually slept - and he went about each sleeping member of the company and bent to wake them from their night's slumber. She pushed herself from the ground and Aragorn slid his arms from her. She turned and looked down as he propped himself up on his elbows and reached out to cup his cheek.

"I can't promise complete caution, my love, but I will promise to try," she whispered.

She could tell that her response did little to satisfy him, but the current susurration of voices made further pursuit of their conversation impossible. As she withdrew a piece of lembas from her pack, Aracasse decided it was better to have it end when it did. The act of delving deeply into past trauma - trauma she hadn't fully disclosed to him in great detail - would have left him both grieved and distracted. While worry for her would distract him in his current state, Ara knew it would be worse had the conversation gone to its obvious conclusion.

They sat together with the rest of the Fellowship. Ara noticed Gimli nod his head to her with a knowing smile dusting across his red beard. She returned it and felt a different warmth from the one she normally felt with Aragorn well up within. This level of camaraderie hadn't been felt by her for many years and she found happiness instead of dread at the idea of continuing to cultivate it one way or another.

When they had all eaten, silence fell between them and each looked to Aragorn expectantly who said, "The day has come at last to make a long delayed choice. What shall now become of our Company that has travelled so far in fellowship? Shall we turn west with Boromir and go to the wars of Gondor; or turn east to the Fear and Shadow; or shall we break our fellowship and go this way and that as each may choose? Whatever we do must be done soon. We cannot long halt here. The enemy is on the eastern shore, we know; but I fear that the Orcs may already be on this side of the water."

Orcs and worse, Ara thought, frowning.

No one said anything and she didn't bother offering any wisdom to help along their decision. Her gut told her to go the way of Gondor, but to avoid taking Frodo directly to Minas Tirith. The intellectual side of her resisted that idea and argued it would be better to separate herself from Frodo and ultimately split the enemy's focus. She glanced at Boromir and her eyes narrowed at the expression on his face. It was hungrily staring at Frodo and there was a particular gleam in his eye she didn't care for that made her hairs on the back of her arm stand on end.

"Well, Frodo," said Aragorn at last. "I fear that the burden is laid upon you. You are the Bearer appointed by the Council. Your own way you alone can choose. In this matter I cannot advise you. I am not Gandalf, and though I have tried to bear his part, I do not know what design or hope he had for this hour, if indeed he had any. Most likely it seems that if he were here now the choice would still wait on you. Such is your fate." {Tolkien, J.R.R.. The Fellowship of the Ring: Being the First Part of The Lord of the Rings (p. 396). Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. Kindle Edition.}

The little hobbit frowned and shook his head, "I fear I have no decision in mind. I ask you give me an hour to decide and let me alone."

Aragorn looked on him with pity and nodded, "An hour it is then. Do not stray out of call."

Frodo stood and walked out of the campsite. Aracasse watched him for a moment before averting her gaze. It settled on Boromir who - upon quick inspection - was the only one among their company still staring after Frodo. She glanced away before he caught her gaze and met the eyes of Samwise Gamgee. By his expression, she knew he'd also noticed and was just as troubled by it as she.

Conversation permeated the air after a while. For the most part, talk was of Frodo's choice and contained speculation as to why the hobbit hesitated. Ara glanced at Boromir every so often and made note of his restless shifting and agitated glances off to the wood. When talk drifted to Gondor and the ancient history of Amon Hen, she was tempted to break her vigil. Something stopped her; however, and her eyes settled on Boromir when he abruptly stood and hurried after the direction Frodo had gone. No one else in the company noticed his departure. Ara sat for several long minutes, head tilted to the ground and arms crossed over her chest.

Should I follow? She wondered.

Yes.

Should I tell them?

She looked at Aragorn and beheld the stress on his brow and the sorrow in his eye. Then, she folded the light of day around her and swiftly disappeared from the camp and tracked the trajectory of Boromir's heavy tread. It directly intersected with Frodo's. Fifteen minutes passed, Aracasse flitted through the forest like a ghost searching and searching. Finally she heard shouting in the distance and changed course. As she drew closer to the noise, sounds of crushing footfalls stumbling through dead leaves and brush filled her ears. What startled her were the words. The words became as clear as day and they filled her heart with anger.

"Miserable trickster!" Boromir shouted. "Let me get my hands on you! Now I see your mind. You will take the Ring to Sauron and sell us all. You have only waited your chance to leave us in the lurch. Curse you and all halflings to death and darkness!"

Ara came upon the wretched form of Boromir the moment his foot caught on a stone and he fell sprawled upon his face. She watched him for a while as he lay as still as a fallen statue. Finally, she observed him prop himself on his elbows, bury his face into his hands, and weep. It was then she finally decided to approach.

"Boromir?" She asked, cautiously.

He looked up, grief stricken on his face. Ara knelt before him, lips tilted into a small frown. Shame crossed his expression and he looked away from her and covered his face with his large hand.

"You tried to take it from Frodo," she guessed.

"I did," he whispered. "I… I had wanted to speak with him, convince him, the path to Minas Tirith would be better, but… but a shadow entered me and I suddenly hated him - wanted - the ring. Oh my queen, what have I done?"

His shoulders shook and great, heaving sobs wracked his body. Aracasse watched him unsure of what to do. She was surprised that she didn't feel anger at Boromir's betrayal of Frodo and, by proxy, the rest of the fellowship. Disappointment was the feeling of prevalence. With a sigh, she rose from the forest floor and looked at the wretched man who was the son of Gondor's steward. Behind the disappointment was pity. Pity for the wretch who'd given into the temptation of the ring.

"You've betrayed your friends for power," she said after a long moment.

When he looked up at her, Ara beheld his wretched devastation and felt another pang of pity. The man had lost much, had given himself over to the protection of his people until very little else was left. He'd seen horrors unimaginable that shook him to his core. Sauron's little trinket was too tempting a power to let pass and it clearly led to his undoing.

"Power will hold you," she said, inspiration not her own guiding her words, "until you discover that which is more precious than it."

The feeling left and Aracasse had to gather all her will to remain standing. She gazed at the man who gaped at her with wide green eyes and open mouth and considered the duality of her words: a curse and a blessing. The Will of the One had spoken and the fate of this man was sealed. Time stopped for Boromir, son of Denethor, and she wasn't sure what that would look like in the end. With that she turned and left him there on the forest floor and looked for Frodo in hopes to catch the little hobbit before he did something foolish.

Tracking a small person who had the ability to not only move silently but could also make himself invisible, proved difficult. Ara wasn't a typical elf in this regard and had been trained in the art of finding people who most certainly didn't want to be found. Even with her additional knowledge, the fact that she knew little about the local area, added to the difficulty of the venture. Several long minutes passed - Ara wasn't sure how long it was, exactly - before she came across the strange phenomenon of loose leaves and sticks scattering on the ground without any explanation as to why.

She moved swiftly and, before the hobbit even knew she was there, grabbed Frodo's invisible form by what she assumed was his shoulder. It was harder to tell with hobbits. They were such strange creatures. He yelped at her touch and it took Ara generally assuming he was going to stumble to keep him upright. With a flash, Frodo wrenched the ring off his finger and appeared before her, eyes wide with fear.

"Frodo," she said, but he didn't let her speak.

"No! Get away from me!" He cried and attempted to stumble out of her grip.

Ara didn't budge and repeated, "Frodo."

"No! Don't! It will take you too!"

"Frodo," she repeated, condescension coloring her tone.

His body shook under her touch. Aracasse sighed and grasped his other shoulder with her free hand and knelt to his level to better look into his eyes.

"Frodo, I know what happened with Boromir," she said gently.

"And what of it?" He asked, hysterically. "The ring will tempt you just as it's likely tempted everyone else!"

She smiled, "I doubt that."

"But -!"

"Frodo, when has the bloody thing ever wanted anything to do with me?"

They stared at each other for a good long while before he averted his gaze and stared over her shoulder into the forest. Ara watched him closely as observed some of the tension leave his shoulders and the final bit of mistrust die in the light of his eyes. Frodo shook his head and looked at her once more.

"Even if your heart is true, I fear the others will become like Boromir," he said.

Ara sighed and rocked to the back of her heels. Her hands dropped from his shoulders and rested on her knees. As much as she wanted to defend the rest of their companions, Ara knew better. Mortals alone held many lusts; humans in particular if Boromir's fall was anything to go by. While it was generally accepted that Aragorn was something more than just a mere human, he was still mostly human in many of the ways that counted. Elves, as a general rule, were also susceptible to the ring's temptation with Aracasse being a stark exception to the rule. It was possible that Legolas could be immune to it as well, but she suspected that wouldn't be the case. The accounts she read about her great-great grandfather, Zeus, told her enough about the elven king to know without any doubt he would have snatched the ring from Frodo's hand the moment he'd beheld the thing. By all accounts, Legolas seemed to have inherited a great deal of Zeus' personality though Ara suspected he was graced with the sense of his mother. She didn't know what would tempt Legolas to take the ring, but tempted he would be.

"You plan to leave?" She asked.

"Yes. The ring is my burden to bear alone. I wouldn't wish its burden on anyone else."

"And yet we all feel its weight to some extent," she muttered, then graced him with a sad smile. "I accept your wish, Frodo, but what will you tell the others?"

"I don't think I'll say anything," Frodo replied. "It's best I simply leave. The others won't understand; especially Sam."

"Alright," she said and stood.

To her alarm, Ara heard the pounding of heavy armored feet accompanied by gruff shouts in the distance. Her heart leapt into her throat and she turned to look down the hill. Frodo glanced at her, alarmed and she held up her hand. Closing her eyes, Ara reached into the earth and wind to feel for the truth of the matter. She cursed a moment later.

"The company split looking for us," she informed him. "Those creatures that I believe you call orcs are scouring the forest. The camp is empty, so if you wish to leave best you do so now."

"What about you? They hunt you as well," Frodo asked.

Ara smiled and waved him away, "Don't worry about me, Frodo Baggins. A little flock of orcs won't be too difficult for the likes of me. Go!"

Frodo complied, putting the ring on his forefinger, and disappeared from sight and sound. Aracasse frowned and hurried off through the trees in the direction she knew Merry and Pippin to have gone. A group of twenty orcs were bound to stumble on them soon and certain elements she hadn't wanted to mention to Frodo lest he worry were also among them. For a moment, she touched enith gilthaes in an effort to hasten her path. She saw the two hobbits as clear as day and the world burred around her until she stumbled into the clearing in front of them. Merry and Pippin stumbled and shouted in alarm.

"What are you doing alone?" She asked.

"Us? Where have you been? You and Frodo have been missing for hours!" Merry exclaimed.

Ara placed her hands on her hips and fixed them with a glare, "I'm aware of how long I've been gone. I went looking for Frodo after Boromir left! But never mind that, we need to go! Orcs are near."

"Orcs? Yes, best we do go!" Pippin piped up.

They turned back in the direction of camp just as the trampling of branches and cries of orcs sounded before and behind them. Ara cursed and touched two of her charms. Two knives materialized into her palms as the orcs thundered into the clearing.

"Stay beside me, you two," she ordered and the hobbits quickly complied.

The orcs didn't stop and surround them. Instead, the kept running and charged at them, raising their fell swords in attack. Ara deflected one blade and stabbed one orc in the side before pushing its blade away and slicing open its groin. She kicked one coming at her side and vaulted into the air. One blade flashed and opened its throat. Upon landing, she blocked another oncoming blade and gutted the assailant. Not every orc fell for her small figure. The more intelligent of the creatures actually stopped their charge and circled them warily as she dispatched the last of their foolish comrades.

One orc held a crossbow and raised it in her direction. Ara had just killed the last charging orc when she heard Pippin's shout of alarm and whirled in the direction he pointed. Directing the wind to knock away the black bolt was more difficult than she'd anticipated. It passed a centimeter close to her shoulder and thudded into the grey trunk of a tree a few yards away.

Two of the orcs Ara knew were to the right of her screamed as if in pain. The orc with the crossbow diverted his attention from her just for a moment. That moment was all she needed to bury the end of one of her long knives in its head. She threw the other at the nearest orc directly to her left and then drew fire into the palm of her now free hands. A moment was all it took for her to incinerate the final two orcs on her left. She whirled to her right, but saw only Boromir as he jerked his sword out of the body of the final orc surrounding them.

"You didn't tell the others you'd gone after Frodo and I," Boromir remarked. "Aragorn wasn't happy with me for returning without you and charged me to look after these two hobbits."

Ara grimaced, "Sorry. You didn't… conduct yourself well earlier, but I wouldn't wish his wrath on anyone. Thank you for coming when you did. I was aware of the orc around us, but wasn't sure I'd be able to fight out of them unscathed."

The gondorian inclined his head and lowered his shield, "You have little to apologize to me for, your grace, at least not to me. It is your husband who will want it, I think."

She did indeed and she fully intended to once the rest of the company reunited. Until then, Ara still heard orcs in the near distance and knew their best defense would be back in the camp where the boats were. Before she could suggest returning, movement caught her eye. A woman clothed in black stepped out from behind one of the trees. Lime green eyes stared at them with a hunger expression and long, blond hair cascaded in golden ringlets down her back. Ara's eyes fell on the silver pomegranate pendant at her shoulder.

"It is as Aragorn and Legolas said," Boromir muttered. "The women from Hollin. But is their leader among them?"

Ara glanced at him, eyebrow raised. Another woman approached from the right and another from the left. The one on the right was an elf as pale as milk with yellow-tinted eyes. The woman on the left; however was a different matter entirely. If anyone had asked her if she would have placed the woman as an elf, Ara would have emphatically denied the idea that the woman could have been an elf. Her face was wrinkled, teeth yellowed and gapped, and hair as white as paper. The ears were pointed and what was left of the brow slanted, but there the markers of her race ended.

"Oh, Persephone," she breathed, "what have you done to yourself?"

The answering grin both disgusted and terrified her. The hobbits whimpered from behind Ara and Boromir. Tension radiated from the man as his body moved to stand directly behind her while also placing the hobbits between them.

"Have you seen my likeness, little niece?" Persephone asked, voice cracked like gravel.

"Yes," Ara replied honestly.

"The depths of Sheol can cause a person much pain, but if one relinquishes what they once valued most of all then power beyond imagination can be obtained. I have my power at the expense of my beauty and youth," with that, she released a shrieking cackle that produced shivers up Ara's spine.

"There's a male," Boromir whispered. "I face him directly."

Ara glanced over her shoulder and beheld Erebus once more. The elf smirked in her direction and fingered a small knife in his hands. If it was anything like that night beside the rapids, then she knew she couldn't let him cut any of them with its blade. The sorceresses began to chant. Ara shuddered at their darkness carried by their voices and attempted to block their fell words from her mind.

But Merry, Pippin, and Boromir, she thought through the thickening fog.

She attempted to reach for enith gilthaes but couldn't touch the element. Her heart quickened and fear shuddered through her. What sort of sorcery had Persephone learned in the depths of Sheol?

Sing, idiot!

Right.

Ara wracked her brain for a song, but couldn't pull one from the increasingly heavy fog covering her mind. In desperation, Ara hummed a few bars of some ambiguous tune to no avail. Her vision blurred and her knees buckled. Merry and Pippin collapsed beside her.

"Did you think the blade at Sarn Gebir was merely coated in a drug?" She heard Erebus ask gleefully. "There was a curse in the folds of the blade that make you susceptible to the Dark Chant? You never thought to look for one."

A curse? Shouldn't Galadriel's gift protect her from curses? Ara reached up to her head and felt nothing resting on her temple. The band was gone and she dared not look for it in case the enemy followed her gaze and snatched it away.

"Take her, Erebus."

She looked up and saw Persephone had approached. She no longer chanted, but the noise Ara vaguely heard in the background past the fog in her head told that the two acolytes still maintained the spell. A knife gleamed in the elf-crone's hand. The thudding of heavy armored boots filled her ears. She felt herself lifted in the air and tossed to a big, fowl smelling body. Her body wouldn't let her react to the smell and she felt the boundaries of consciousness fade as she was thrown over the thing's shoulder.

The last thing she saw was the shadowy finger of Boromir lifting his horn to his lips to blow his horn. Seven sounds were made as he rose to his feet and struck down many orcs attempting to stop his call. The call of his horn was cut short when Persephone approached, withdrew a long, thin bladed knife from her black robes, and thrust it toward the gondorian's back. With the last of her strength, Ara threw out her hand and forced the wind to knock Boromir forward and away from the blade.

Darkness took her before she could ascertain his fate.