Ill Omens
Amancirith Carangarien
Disclaimer: Don't own any of it, and not making any money, either. More's the pity. *bg*
Chapter Three
Aragorn and Legolas slowly made their way back to the rest of the Fellowship, both man and elf silent as they attempted to come to terms with what they had seen in the mirror. They had nearly reached the others when Legolas caught hold of the Ranger's arm and pulled them both to a halt.
"Aragorn, I think that you should speak to Boromir tonight. The Ring whispers to him, and I fear he will falter if something is not done. We cannot afford to worry for him and this new evil as well."
The man frowned. "And what words do I possess that can turn him from that path? I appreciate your faith in me, my friend, but I feel it is unwarranted."
The elf shook his head, a small smile curling his lips. "Nay, Aragorn. You are the only one to whom Boromir would readily listen. The two of you are much alike beneath the surface. All that is needed, I believe, is for Boromir to know that he is not alone in this."
Aragorn sighed, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "I suppose that you are correct, my friend. The last thing that any of us needs is to feel ourselves alone with no one to turn to. And if you believe that I can somehow give this comfort to Boromir, then I shall certainly try."
"And a fine opportunity arrives, Aragorn." Legolas glanced pointedly back over his shoulder to where Boromir was slowly approaching them, the expression on his face one of mingled pain and fatigue. "We shall discuss the other matter in the morning, as the Lady suggested." And with those words the elf practically melted into the woods, leaving the two men alone.
They simply looked at each other in silence for a moment before Boromir sighed, leaning back against a tree and sliding to the ground. His clasped hands dangled between his knees, and he refused to look up as Aragorn quietly sat beside him. After yet another long moment spent in silence, Boromir finally began to softly speak.
"Have you ever seen the White City, Aragorn? It is completely different from an Elven city, but no less glorious. And I fear that by the time I return, my beautiful city will be in ruins."
Aragorn closed his eyes, trying to will himself to find the words that Boromir needed to hear. When no great words of wisdom appeared, he sighed. "I have seen the White City, Boromir, though that was long ago. And I have no doubt that we shall both see it again in its glory."
Boromir finally looked up, his green eyes bleak. "I wish that I had your certainty, Aragorn. But I fear that I have lost all hope."
The Ranger laid a comforting hand on Boromir's shoulder, smiling slightly when the other man accepted the contact. "Nay, Boromir. Hope is not lost. The Ring is merely clouding your vision." Aragorn felt the shoulder under his hand tense and quickly continued speaking. "It does the same to all of us, Boromir."
The Steward shook his head. "The Ring does not seem to affect the little ones except for Frodo who carries it; Legolas and Gimli are evidently immune, as are you."
Aragorn chuckled dryly. "No, Boromir, I am not immune to the Ring's whispers. Late at night I can hear it calling me, telling me that only with its aid will I be able to overcome the weakness of my blood. That it can give me the lady Arwen for eternity." His voice dropped to a harsh whisper, only just loud enough for Boromir to hear. "It tells me that none of us shall survive this quest without it, and that I shall have to watch all of you fall into darkness before I am taken as well."
Silence fell in the wake of Aragorn's confession, though it was more comfortable than most silences between the pair had been previously. After a while, Boromir turned back to Aragorn, a slight smile curling his lips. "I understand that the elves called you Estel, their word for hope." He waited for Aragorn to nod before he continued. "Then you were correct when you said that not all hope was lost. And perhaps, as you are the company's hope, I might be yours."
The Ranger cocked his head to the side, considering the Steward's words. Then he smiled and clapped Boromir on the shoulder. "It would be fitting, would it not, for the Sons of Gondor to hold one another's hope on this quest? Hereafter, we both are Estel, and no more shall hope flee from us." The smile remained on Aragorn's face even as his demeanor became more serious. "If the Ring whispers to you again, you will speak of it to me, will you not?"
Boromir nodded, his expression far calmer than it had been since before the Fellowship had departed from Rivendell. "As you will with me, my brother."
Aragorn extended his hand, but Boromir grasped his forearm instead in a gesture reserved for comrades-in-arms. The Ranger smiled, sealing their agreement with both gesture and words. "My brother."
TBC
Amancirith Carangarien
Disclaimer: Don't own any of it, and not making any money, either. More's the pity. *bg*
Chapter Three
Aragorn and Legolas slowly made their way back to the rest of the Fellowship, both man and elf silent as they attempted to come to terms with what they had seen in the mirror. They had nearly reached the others when Legolas caught hold of the Ranger's arm and pulled them both to a halt.
"Aragorn, I think that you should speak to Boromir tonight. The Ring whispers to him, and I fear he will falter if something is not done. We cannot afford to worry for him and this new evil as well."
The man frowned. "And what words do I possess that can turn him from that path? I appreciate your faith in me, my friend, but I feel it is unwarranted."
The elf shook his head, a small smile curling his lips. "Nay, Aragorn. You are the only one to whom Boromir would readily listen. The two of you are much alike beneath the surface. All that is needed, I believe, is for Boromir to know that he is not alone in this."
Aragorn sighed, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "I suppose that you are correct, my friend. The last thing that any of us needs is to feel ourselves alone with no one to turn to. And if you believe that I can somehow give this comfort to Boromir, then I shall certainly try."
"And a fine opportunity arrives, Aragorn." Legolas glanced pointedly back over his shoulder to where Boromir was slowly approaching them, the expression on his face one of mingled pain and fatigue. "We shall discuss the other matter in the morning, as the Lady suggested." And with those words the elf practically melted into the woods, leaving the two men alone.
They simply looked at each other in silence for a moment before Boromir sighed, leaning back against a tree and sliding to the ground. His clasped hands dangled between his knees, and he refused to look up as Aragorn quietly sat beside him. After yet another long moment spent in silence, Boromir finally began to softly speak.
"Have you ever seen the White City, Aragorn? It is completely different from an Elven city, but no less glorious. And I fear that by the time I return, my beautiful city will be in ruins."
Aragorn closed his eyes, trying to will himself to find the words that Boromir needed to hear. When no great words of wisdom appeared, he sighed. "I have seen the White City, Boromir, though that was long ago. And I have no doubt that we shall both see it again in its glory."
Boromir finally looked up, his green eyes bleak. "I wish that I had your certainty, Aragorn. But I fear that I have lost all hope."
The Ranger laid a comforting hand on Boromir's shoulder, smiling slightly when the other man accepted the contact. "Nay, Boromir. Hope is not lost. The Ring is merely clouding your vision." Aragorn felt the shoulder under his hand tense and quickly continued speaking. "It does the same to all of us, Boromir."
The Steward shook his head. "The Ring does not seem to affect the little ones except for Frodo who carries it; Legolas and Gimli are evidently immune, as are you."
Aragorn chuckled dryly. "No, Boromir, I am not immune to the Ring's whispers. Late at night I can hear it calling me, telling me that only with its aid will I be able to overcome the weakness of my blood. That it can give me the lady Arwen for eternity." His voice dropped to a harsh whisper, only just loud enough for Boromir to hear. "It tells me that none of us shall survive this quest without it, and that I shall have to watch all of you fall into darkness before I am taken as well."
Silence fell in the wake of Aragorn's confession, though it was more comfortable than most silences between the pair had been previously. After a while, Boromir turned back to Aragorn, a slight smile curling his lips. "I understand that the elves called you Estel, their word for hope." He waited for Aragorn to nod before he continued. "Then you were correct when you said that not all hope was lost. And perhaps, as you are the company's hope, I might be yours."
The Ranger cocked his head to the side, considering the Steward's words. Then he smiled and clapped Boromir on the shoulder. "It would be fitting, would it not, for the Sons of Gondor to hold one another's hope on this quest? Hereafter, we both are Estel, and no more shall hope flee from us." The smile remained on Aragorn's face even as his demeanor became more serious. "If the Ring whispers to you again, you will speak of it to me, will you not?"
Boromir nodded, his expression far calmer than it had been since before the Fellowship had departed from Rivendell. "As you will with me, my brother."
Aragorn extended his hand, but Boromir grasped his forearm instead in a gesture reserved for comrades-in-arms. The Ranger smiled, sealing their agreement with both gesture and words. "My brother."
TBC