Paths of Peril -- A Dynasty Broken Book II

By Adara

A pall settled over Boromir, as man and beast put many miles between themselves and the Golden Wood. His heart was heavy despite the joyful afternoon spent making love to Eledwhen. Although he called the Princess of Rohan his wife, she was not legally his, at least, according to the laws of Gondor. Those cursed Elves and their bloody stubbornness, he thought glumly. By what right do they interfere in our lives? Mortal law has betrothed Eledwhen to me and, even were that not true, we have bound ourselves to each other, body and soul.

Neither Boromir nor Eledwhen had been able to convince the Lord and Lady of the Galadrim to perform the marriage ceremony. The Elves were rigidly polite, but firm. Even the lovers' admission of their physical union did naught to sway their decision. Boromir wanted to tell them about the unborn child, hoping to force their cooperation, but Eledwhen had begged him not to. "There will be plenty of time while you are gone for my grandparents to accept you as a future kinsman. If you anger them now, we shall have no hope of convincing them that we belong together."

Boromir smiled, remembering how angry Celeborn and Galadriel had been once they realized that the Man had checkmated them. It had been impossible to hide the fact that Eledwhen spent every night in his room after their exchange of vows. The confrontation with the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood had been every bit as volatile as expected, although no Elven archers had appeared to execute him. However, the Lord Celeborn had taken him aside and chided him for his "ungentlemanly" behavior.

"It was not fair or sporting of you to take Eledwhen to your bed when you have not been officially wed," he had said gravely. But Boromir had merely laughed and replied, "All's fair in love and war, my Lord Elf. You should know this better than I, for you have lived time uncounted. You are angry because I outmaneuvered you; it irks you that a mere mortal could do so."

Boromir was jerked from his reverie by a loud neigh from Arod. The horse shied and sidestepped nervously, casting uneasy looks at the trees to their right. Boromir became immediately alert and unsheathed his great sword. "Easy, boy, easy. What do you smell?"

In answer to his question, a red hind emerged from the trees and ran swiftly in front of the gray stallion. Arod snorted and reared, causing his rider to curse and grip the saddle pommel to keep his seat. Boromir strained to determine what had caused the hind's flight, but heard nothing. Nor could he see more than a foot past the treeline, for it was dusk and night was rapidly approaching.

Deciding that caution was the better part of valor in this instance, Boromir spurred Arod into a gallop, hoping to put as much distance between them and whatever had spooked the deer. As Arod sped forward, two pinpoints of yellow light glowed between the trees where the hind had emerged.

* * * * * * * * *

Boromir managed to find his way across the Redhorn Pass without incident. Born beneath the shadow of the White Mountains, he had more than a passing acquaintance with journeys in high places. The central regions of the Misty Mountains were bitterly cold, and the snow left him wet and miserable. By day, he and Arod plodded their way along the narrow pass, careful not to stray too close to the sheer naked sides and the steep drop-off beyond. The reddish color that splashed across the mountains reminded him of blood. At night, Boromir burned some of the faggots of wood he had brought to ward off the cold and any animals that might prowl the pass. He was worried about wolf packs that hunted the pass, fierce animals that were ever vigilant for weary and unwary travelers.

Once clear of the mountain's shadow, Gondor's son turned north toward the Elven haven many leagues away. He checked the map Celeborn had made for him and knew he would soon enter Hollin, the lost land of Eregion. He had become weary of sitting in the saddle 12 to 14 hours a day and of eating lembas, which had been provided by the Lady Galadriel, along with fresh fruit that had been consumed within the first few days. Arod had eaten most of the apples, but the man did not begrudge his mount such a simple pleasure. If not for the horse, Boromir would be afoot and his journey much longer and very unpleasant.

Boromir knew he should be grateful for the supplies, considering that he and the Elven rulers were at odds over Eledwhen's future. Both Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn felt strongly that their granddaughter should remain with the Elves. And he had agreed, as far as the journey to Imladris was concerned. But he had threatened to spirit Eledwhen away secretly if they tried to stop her from returning to Minas Tirith with him. She was as necessary to his life as the air he breathed and he would not give her up. There had been several heated arguments on the subject before his departure from Lorien.

"At least Galadriel had enough self-control not to throw me off the highest flet in their house," Boromir said aloud, reaching forward to rub Arod's neck. Surprisingly, she had been fairly gracious at their parting; his mouth had fallen open in disbelief when she told him to take care during the dangerous journey ahead of him. He and Eledwhen had exchanged surprised glances before he managed to stammer a somewhat coherent reply. Eledwhen later surmised that her grandmother either knew, or suspected, that she was with child and was genuinely worried about its father's wellbeing.

"If that were true, she should have allowed us to undergo a formal wedding ceremony," Boromir said to Arod, a habit he had fallen into during solo trips to various garrisons throughout Gondor. "If I do not survive this journey, the child will have neither my name nor my inheritance. He, or she, will be a bastard. I must write Father and Faramir about our 'marriage' and the child as soon as I find a place where a messenger can be retained. Perhaps I can persuade them that such a bonding is legal under Elven law and should, therefore, be accepted as legal under Gondorian law."

Boromir sighed tiredly and scanned the land about him with an experienced traveler's eye. He was riding through a narrow meadow surrounded on both sides by gnarled trees so ugly and deformed that leaves refused to grow on their twisted branches. Though bereft of foliage, the trees still were so thick and close he could see nothing beyond. Water must be scarce in this land, he thought. I hope my water rations last until I cross into Hollin.

Arod moved his proud head back and forth as though agreeing with his master. Boromir laughed and stroked his mane. "Time to find a place to camp, old boy. It is late and far too dark for us to be stumbling about unknown country."

Boromir strained to see about him but was unable to do so because the quarter moon cast little light upon the surrounding landscape. "Blast, I wish I had one of those silver lanterns the Elves are so fond of." Arod snorted as though in agreement and Boromir started to laugh, but bit back the sound when he thought he heard an answering whinny. Arod began to fidget and toss his head up and down. He was clearly agitated.

A warrior survives on instinct, skill and a generous measure of luck. Gondor's Captain-General had not lived to the age of 40 by being careless or by taking foolish risks. He jerked the shield from his back to fend off potential arrows while urging his stead toward a dense patch of trees that would offer a relatively secure place from which to launch a defense. As Arod started in the direction asked, Boromir clearly heard the sound of hooves pounding upon hard earth. They were close and gaining fast.

Quickly assessing the situation (knowing well that he could not hold his own against a strong mounted company), Boromir urged Arod to flee in the opposite direction. The stallion gathered himself up before surging forward at full gallop, while his rider crouched low over his neck to make himself less of a target. Boromir looked back briefly and caught a glimpse of several riders on black horses. Their dark cloaks and full hoods made it impossible to see who, or what, they were.

As Arod made a dash for the cover of the trees, Boromir thought he heard whispers on the wind and a chill spread throughout his body. Who the blazes are those riders? Not particularly wanting to find out, man and beast continued to careen through the trees at a breakneck speed. Brittle branches dried beyond endurance by lack of moisture snapped loudly and fell to the ground as the two flew by in the murky darkness.

Boromir risked a glance over his shoulder and suddenly felt his mount fall out from under him. It was as though he were being catapulted through the air, or flying without the aid of wings. Mindful of how he might land, or what he may crash into, Boromir moved his shield so that it protected his head. He felt his body plunging downward and prepared himself for a jolt. His last conscious thoughts before impacting the ground were of Eledwhen.

To be continued