Chapter 5- A Council Heeded, A Council Forgotten.



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"Lord Boromir! Do you hear me not?" Strider seemed frustrated with Boromir. He wasn't listening to anything he was saying.

"We have not enough men! If we go, we shall miss the Lords Elladan and Elrohir in Rivendell. Mithrandir himself told us to meet them there. We have to choose, and I council you we should go to Rivendell," Boromir too was frustrated. They had received a message from Mithrandir that day, and he advised them to head to Rivendell, some sort of council. But it intrigued Boromir that the Lord Elrond would open his home to anyone. Boromir's curiosity got the best of him and he no longer had any desire to help the half-lings. Of what importance were they?

"We have to help the half-lings! They shall not stand without the aid of outside troops, and we are so close. The Shire is not a day away; we can still help and reach the Lords. What would your brother do?"

"My brother? Why do you bring him into this?" Boromir was almost to tired to care. He needed sleep, and all Strider would allow him to do was argue, it seemed.

"Because your brother has sent you more council, and you have not even thought of heeding it!" Strider had been waiting an entire day for him to open the letter the messenger had handed him.

"What are you talking about? He has sent no rider."

"No, not a rider. There is a letter sitting on that table with your name on it, the rider delivered it, you do not remember?" Strider knew he didn't remember; he'd set it down almost as soon as it'd reached his hands.

"The letter?" Boromir moved towards the table, picking the letter up, he began to read:

Dear Boromir,

I have sent this rider with the least of my message. I only hope this letter does not fall into the wrong hands. I do not know how much I trust that rider, though I really don't trust much of anyone anymore.

Everything the rider shall tell you, is of great importance. But I have heard you shall be invited to attend a council with the Lord Elrond. You shall be invited to take one guest, if you understand what, and who, I'm implying. This is a council to discuss something called Isildur's bane, I know not what this is, yet it is of grave importance to Elrond and Mithrandir.

I know it would seem wise to abandon the half-lings and attend, but I have other news that shall make that decision harder for you. Isildur's bane is in the possession of a half-ling. The half-ling who carries it is a general and leads a small group of his people. I know no more of his identity, but I can assure you he does not wish his people destroyed.

I have a feeling that helping the half-lings will help you in the long run, yet that is not mine to decide. Make your decision, and make it wisely. I do not know the whole circumstances, and you shall be in a better position to decide than I am, so I give you no more council. Listen with your heart and ears, and to certain people around you.

Your brother, Faramir

"So, a half-ling carries what the world is now revolving round. How does he know this, being in Gondor?"

"There are many ways, the enemy may know more than we expect. If so, they may have leaked some of the information to our spies," Strider now had his mind made up; he was going to help the half-lings. And now he was sure that he would need Boromir's men to help. How else could Faramir know what was going on here without the enemy knowing? If the enemy knew, the entire of the Dark Lord's army would attempt to assail the land of half-lings. The half-lings would need all the help they can get.

"Ah, 'tis against what I would do, but I shall follow my king, even if it is against what I would council," Boromir turned to Strider, no longer willing to battle it out for this decision. Against both his brother's and his superior's council, he had no defense.

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"'Get packing,' easy for him to say. Why are we even going to help these pathetic, half-grown men? We will gain nothing, for they have nothing to give." grumbles, like these, were heard though out the camp. The soldiers, who fought for their Lord Boromir, had just been informed they were moving out.

"You're leaving? To defend the half-lings?" the entire camp looked over at the man who had spoken. No one had really spoke to him, after he'd come riding into their camp the night earlier yelling like he was being tortured by the Dark Lord. This errand rider was nothing.

"Yeah, well. I don't see what so great about it. And what do you care? You'll be leavin' shortly. You don't need to see any action." one of the soldiers spoke, turning back to packing his few belongings.

"That's what you think," the rider replied. He wasn't going to give up the chance of a lifetime. He could be a hero, winning the battle for his side. It's what he'd always wanted to do.

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A hero, it was ringing in his mind, as he approached the Lord's tent once more. It was what he'd really joined up to do, that was why he was an errand rider. And now, he was in the right place, in the right time, and he knew what he was going to do. Join Boromir's troops that were going to fight.

"My Lord," he said, hope in his voice and in his step. He noticed the ranger was present now, as he always seemed to be.

"Oh good. You haven't left yet. I need someone to take a message."

"I mean not to interrupt, My Lord, but I wish to join your troops going to battle," the rider spoke it quickly, before Boromir could rope him into riding off. He needed to fight, he could change the way the battle turned, he just knew it.

Boromir turned to the Ranger and spoke a few private words to him, of which the rider heard none.

"Very well, have you ever faced the enemy before?" Boromir said, turning back to the rider.

"Oh, yes. As you would never believe it." The rider answered, a smile crossing his lips.

"Then, I will enlist you right away. We will need every man we can get to fight with these half-lings. The Dark Lord is intent on destroying them. Strider, could you take care of anything I've forgotten when enlisting someone? I am in need of rest." Boromir finished and walked away once Strider nodded, agreeing with Boromir. The Lord needed sleep; even the soldiers were feeling bad for him. Boromir hadn't slept for more than eight hours in the last few days; he was literally exhausted.

Strider turned to the rider, sizing him up. He was shorter than Strider by almost six inches. But he seemed strong enough, and he had a fire in his eyes. He looked as if he would be an asset to heir side, if he knew how to wield a weapon. Yet his last comment puzzled Strider, he looked hardly old enough to have been an errand rider and probably wasn't old enough to enlist by the usual rules. But yet he said he had faced the enemy before. Had his home perhaps been attacked when he was younger and he'd fought his way out? He jumped out of his thoughts, realizing he'd spent too long summing this man up.

"Well, what's your name boy?" Strider said. He pulled a piece of paper off of the table to write it down. As he scavenged for a pen and ink, he heard the rider reply 'Grimly son of Grima.'

"Grima? Grima of Rohan, the adviser to the king? I knew not that he had a son. And if you are from Rohan, why do you help the people of Gondor?" Strider said wonderingly. He didn't even know Grima was married. Well, it had been a great while since Strider had visited that country.

"Yes, that Grima. And I help the people of Gondor because Rohan said I was too young to help in ought. So, I asked leave to go to Gondor, years ago, where I was made an errand rider."

"I see, I think that's all. Go and ready for battle. I assume you have a weapon in your possession? Almost everyone does, even the women." Strider broke off, seeing Grimly nod his head at his comment and then slip out of the tent. Strider too decided to get rest; he would need it for the upcoming battle.

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