Paths of Peril -- A Dynasty Broken Book II
By Adara
Sean Bean, who plays Boromir in the movie LOTR/FOTR, also had a role in a movie entitled My Kingdom for a Horse. The name of this chapter is a takeoff on that movie title.
And now (drum roll, please) back to Boromir and the answer to Faramir's dream…
My Kingdom for a Healer
Boromir felt as though he was drifting upon a black sea, where gentle waves rocked him in complete darkness. His mind felt oddly detached from his body, causing him to wonder if he was dead. As Boromir floated weightlessly, idly speculating about his death, a great wave rose from the otherwise calm sea, swept him upward, and then tossed him roughly onto land. An intense and nearly unbearable pain consumed him like parchment in a fire as his body made contact with the unyielding shore. Valar, I hope this is a dream and that I shall awake uninjured in my bedroll. As he writhed in pain upon the unknown shore, tendrils of darkness curled about his mind, dragging him downward into the deep.
* * * * * * * * *
It was night when Denethor's eldest son gained consciousness. How many nights had passed since the accident he could not guess, for time has little meaning for those who sleep and dream. Boromir knew he had plunged a fair distance and, therefore, expected to find that his body had been shattered in the fall. The moon momentarily peeked out from behind the cloud covering and Boromir could see the steep ravine into which he had fallen. That drop should have killed me. A shiver passed through his body as he offered a slight prayer to the Valar that he was still alive.
Boromir shifted his weight to gain a better view of his surroundings and felt a bulk beneath him. Slowly he moved his right hand across the top of the stiff mass (relieved that the limb felt sound) and realized, with a jolt, that he was resting atop his stead's lifeless body. Poor Arod, to have come so far and survived so much, only to die in this strange land. Tears sprang to his eyes, but he held them in check. This was no time for weak sentimentality, but for action. He had to find a way out of the ravine before scavengers were lured to him by the smell of Arod's rotting corpse.
As a survivor of more battles than he could remember, Boromir knew he would have to take inventory of his injuries before taking any action. He uttered a slight groan, steeled himself for the pain to come, and willed his left arm to move. He was elated to find it unbroken. He next lifted his right leg. So far so good, he thought. However, when he moved his left leg, the excruciating pain produced a fierce wave of nausea. Broken, he thought grimly. After a detailed check of his entire body, Boromir was relieved to find that the only other injures were two broken ribs and a deep bruise to his left shoulder. He had been extremely fortunate for his injuries were relatively minor. Poor Arod's neck was broken. Tears welled in his eyes again as he looked upon his once faithful companion. "Pull yourself together," he chided himself out loud. "It is time to leave this place."
Boromir shifted his body to look for something to help him stand; his left hand felt the smooth leather of his mount's reins. Perfect, he thought. Grasping Arod's reins firmly in his right hand, he stretched out his unbroken leg until the foot felt resistance. Then he pushed against his mount's side, used the reins for balance, and struggled to stand on his right leg. I can do this. I must do this or join Arod in eternal rest, and that is definitely not an option. The struggle to stand quickly drained what little strength he possessed, but Boromir managed to support his weight on his unbroken leg. He felt giddy with victory; the feeling quickly dissolved, however, when he realized he would have to hop on that leg to go anywhere. A brilliant plan, heir of Gondor, but one that lacks foresight. I am on my feet, or foot as the case may be, but I have nothing to lean against for support. How far will I get hopping about like a bloody bunny?
Having recognized the holes in his plan, Boromir struggled to return to a sitting position. A loud roaring filled his ears and he realized he was about to pass out. He hopped backward, hoping to return to his seat upon Arod's flank, but instead fell heavily upon the hard ground. Uttering a terrible scream, the heir of Gondor once more plunged into darkness.
* * * * * * * * *
At the same moment a dreaming Faramir heard his brother's cry, the Princess of Rohan bolted upright in bed. She, too, had heard Boromir's voice. Eledwhen threw back the covers and began to rise, but a terrible pain in her side caused her to double over. My ribs are healed. I should not still be in pain. Frightened, wanting the comfort of her grandmother's arms, Eledwhen rose from the bed. An excruciating pain flared in her left leg, causing her to cry out and crumble helplessly to the floor.
"What is wrong, child? I felt your pain and come as quickly as possible." The Lady Galadriel was standing in the entrance to the room, one hand holding back the elaborately designed covering. She was shocked to see Eledwhen huddled on the floor, tears streaming down her pale face. Galadriel's feet barely brushed the floor as she rushed to kneel beside the distraught girl. "What has happened?"
"It is Boromir. I heard him call out and I am in terrible pain. I believe it is my lord's pain that I feel and that something horrible has happened to him."
Galadriel was relieved that it was not Eledwhen who was in physical pain. "Come child, climb back into bed. You had a bad dream, nothing more."
Eledwhen shook her head, her unbound hair falling into her eyes. She pushed the hair behind her ears with one hand, while the other crushed Galadriel's arm in a vise-like grip. "This was a dream same as that I had on the road; the night I had the vision of the owl and knew my brother was a prisoner in Gondor's dungeons. You know that was a true vision, for you were beside me when I looked into your mirror and saw him being flogged. I would have ridden immediately to Gondor had I not seen him rescued by the Prince of Dol Amroth."
Galadriel searched Eledwhen's face intently. The girl was as frightened as she had been the night she begged her grandmother to use her powers to discover what had befallen Prince Theodred. Thinking to placate her injured granddaughter, who was almost wild with worry, Galadriel had bidden her to look into the mirror. The Lady of the Golden Wood had not expected Eledwhen's fears to be verified, but that was before she realized how truly gifted the child was. Not only could she heal with just a touch, she also could see events from afar as though physically present. If she says Boromir is in trouble, then he certainly must be.
"Eledwhen, do not fear. I am certain the Lord Boromir is all right. It is you I worry about. You must calm yourself. If you have no care for your own health, at least think of the unborn child."
The Princess stared at Galadriel, her eyes wide in astonishment. "So you do know. I was foolish to believe I could hide this from you. I was correct when I told Boromir that your concern for him was as a father to my child."
Galadriel chuckled lightly. "You are too perceptive by far. In truth, I knew almost as soon as you did. There has been a glow about you since that night you bound yourself to the mortal. I was angry you went against my wishes, but that quickly faded into delight at the life you carry, for I shall be a great-grandmother." Relieved that the Elven Queen was not angry, Eledwhen hugged Galadriel tightly. "It shall be a boy. I can feel it."
Her laughter was so light and gay that Galadriel hoped the girl would not remember her dream about Boromir. But almost the instant the thought crossed her mind, Eledwhen pushed away, her face once more pale and drawn. "What if Boromir dies? My child will carry no man's name. I cannot bear that he would forever be called bastard. I must ride out and find his father."
Galadriel wrapped her arms about the Princess to physically restrain her, and to offer what comfort it was in her power to give. She was conflicted, torn between a desire to keep Eledwhen forever in Lorien, and her duty to ease her granddaughter's mental suffering. Heaving a sigh of resignation, the Elf lifted the girl's chin until two pairs of deep blue eyes met. "There is something I must tell you. I suppose it has been wrong of me to keep this from you, but I cannot bear the thought of losing you. The night that you and Boromir exchanged vows and bonded yourselves to one another for eternity…well, that was a legally binding wedding ceremony according to Elven custom. I do not know how Gondor's people will see it, but as far as the Firstborn are concerned, you two already are husband and wife."
Eledwhen's face lit up brighter than the sky at high noon. Then, just as suddenly as the brightness shone in her face, darkness settled across her once more pale features. "Why did you not tell me this before my lord left? It is cruel of you to keep such a secret. You know how upset we are about not being legally wed. Do you hate Boromir so much you would have him wander alone weighed down by his guilt?"
Galadriel looked as though she had sustained a fatal wound. She rose swiftly and began to pace the room. "If he suffers, it is his own fault! He thought to force our hand by getting you with child. The Man is immensely selfish and too prideful by far. He played a game, with you as his white queen, in hopes of having his way. Can you not see how cold and manipulative he is?"
Eledwhen stared at her grandmother through narrowed eyes. She was very angry. Galadriel stopped her pacing. "Can you tell me why you love this Man so much? If I could but understand your feelings for him…"
The Princess' facial features grew soft and her eyes shone brightly. "I love that he is honorable and brave; that he is terribly fierce in battle, yet tender with me. His strong, callused hands have killed thousands but, when he touches me, it is as gentle and tender a touch as any ever bestowed by my mother. I love the way his eyes light up when he smiles and the sound of his laughter. When I am with him I am happy beyond words. He is so handsome and noble and…"
"And you love and adore him," Galadriel finished. Blushing, the girl nodded, then stared down at her hands. Galadriel looked at her granddaughter thoughtfully and then heaved another sigh. The child was hopelessly in love and now carried the proof of that love. She would never forsake Boromir for the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. "I think, perhaps, that Celeborn and I misjudged the depth of your feelings for this Human. We thought you felt naught but a teen-ager's crush for an older man, but we were wrong and I sincerely apologize. When Boromir returns you shall have your formal marriage ceremony, if that is what you both wish."
Overwhelmed with emotions, Eledwhen propelled herself off the floor and flung herself into her grandmother's arms. "I knew you would see how much Boromir and I belong together. I am so happy, but I still cannot understand why you sought to break us apart."
"You cannot know the pain of losing a child. I lost your mother to Theoden even before she was killed by orcs. I also lost my daughter, Celebrian, because of orcs. Finding you at last, I could not bear the thought of losing you, too."
"Oh, Grandmother. Boromir will not prevent me from visiting Lorien. He is not my father. Yes, I know he is stubborn and, sometimes, mule-headed, but he would never do anything to cause me undue grief." Suddenly a shadow passed across Eledwhen's face and she shivered violently.
"What is it child?"
"Boromir and my dream. What if something has happened and he is dead? I shall never see him again."
Galadriel felt her heart lurch. All her games designed at keeping Eledwhen and Boromir apart… would the girl ever forgive her grandparents if Boromir never returned? Galadriel searched Eledwhen's distraught face and knew she had to set things right. "Well," she said at last. "Let us hope it does not come to that. Do not despair, for I feel in my bones that your lord will return to you." Galadriel clasped Eledwhen tightly to her breast and gazed upon the sunrise.
"I hope, for my child's sake, that is true," the girl murmured softly.
* * * * * * * * *
The sun was shining hotly when Boromir awoke for the second time since his accident. His mouth was dry and tasted sour. A putrid odor and a loud buzzing sound caused him to turn his head. Arod lay rotting in the heat, a blanket of flies covering his body like a shroud. Boromir shook with fury to see his faithful companion suffer such a final indignity. Rage consumed him and, uttering a fierce cry, he began to swat at the flies. Unfortunately, his efforts succeeded only in causing white-hot pain to flare within his leg. He lost his balance, fell face forward onto the hard earth and threw up what little remained in his stomach. Boromir looked again at his once proud stead and was sad to see that worms, too, were feasting on the body. Judging from the condition of his mount's corpse, he estimated that he had been in the ravine close to three days.
Gondor's heir turned onto his back and looked tiredly up at the sky. It cannot be my fate that I shall end my life in this forsaken place. I must not give up. My people need me, and I now have a wife and child to protect. Boromir moved into a sitting position with a great effort and began assessing his options. He knew he would need to find something to hold his leg in place or he would be unable to walk. He would worry about binding his broken ribs later. Though he did not feel particularly blessed, he realized that the fates had smiled upon him. It was obvious the horse's neck was broken and that he, too, would have suffered a similar fate had Arod's body not broken his fall. "Rest in peace, dear friend. You served me well even after death."
Tearing his gaze from Arod, Boromir began to inventory his tack. He needed items that could be used to bind his broken leg. Both the leather reins and the large girth could be used to hold a splint in place, but what could he use for the splint itself? Frowning, he searched the ground surrounding him. There were plenty of broken branches and, although brittle, they might hold until he could find help. I must set this leg properly, and soon, or I could end up walking with a cane the rest of my life. He would not allow himself to even think about the risk of infection.
It took the man of Gondor most of the afternoon to gather suitable branches for the splint and, afterward, to set the leg. Twice he blacked out from the pain. Night was fast approaching when he finally completed the task. Boromir smiled weakly at the splint he had made. Not a bad job; I would make a fair healer. Boromir had lived more than half his life as a warrior, an occupation that had provided countless opportunities for learning how to tend injuries in the field. He hoped this knowledge would now serve to keep him alive.
His satisfaction at the job already accomplished slowly faded into annoyance as he contemplated how to get to his feet. He could use his mount's corpse again, but its condition rendered it almost useless for such a purpose. I shall find something more solid to support me. Arod's usefulness has ended. The flies were beginning to become extremely annoying, and on the wind he could hear the howls of foraging wolves. Boromir had no intention of becoming fodder for any animal. He decided finally that one of the thick tree trunks in the ravine would provide the leverage he needed to regain his feet or, rather, his foot; however, he would have to drag himself several yards to the nearest one. I'd best get on with it. I am running out of time. He shivered slightly as he heard more howls, much closer than the first.
Denethor's son glanced up at the darkening sky, then slowly and painfully crawled toward the trees. He tried to keep his mind off the pain by thinking about Eledwhen in Lothlorien, and of his brother in the White City. He focused part of his mind on the task at hand, the other part he focused upon images of their faces. Just as he reached a stout-looking tree, Boromir heard a low growl. "The carrion eaters have arrived," he said aloud, looking toward the trees where the sound had emanated. He drew his sword quickly from its scabbard and debated whether he should try to stand. Nay, for if they rush me as I struggle to rise I will have no chance against them. Grimly he gripped his sword, supported his back against the tree trunk and waited.
A low snarl heralded the arrival of the first wolf, which stepped cautiously from the cover of the trees. It was a very large and powerfully built male, though obviously an underfed one. Its ribs showed clearly beneath its mangy coat. As the wolf stood exposed in the ravine, sniffing the air for danger, a smaller female wolf left her hiding place and moved toward Arod's corpse. Its larger companion started to follow but stopped abruptly, its long snout pointed upward as it caught a new scent on the breeze.
Boromir felt the wind shift and knew it would be only a matter of seconds before the predators caught his scent. Both would soon realize that they did not have to settle for long-dead flesh -- not when fresh meat was available. The male turned and Boromir could see huge golden eyes fixed intently upon him. It growled a warning to its mate, who turned away from the rotting meat to seek out the threat the male warned of.
This is not going to be pleasant, Boromir thought. I will be fortunate indeed if I survive their attack. Sensing the man's disability and weakness, the wolves began cautiously advancing, putting space between them as they came. Boromir knew they would attack from both sides at once, and that he would have to be swift to avoid having his throat ripped out.
The female attacked first, searching for an opening in his defenses. Boromir easily fended her off with his sword, but kept one eye on the lookout for the male wolf. When it came in for the kill, it managed to knock Boromir sideways against the female, who yelped fearfully and retreated. The male then leapt toward his victim, teeth bared, and snapped viciously in an attempt to reach the warm flesh of the throat. Boromir struggled to shove the creature away from his body using his right arm, while his left hand felt for the dagger at his belt. The female wolf chose that moment to reenter the fray. Boromir howled a fierce war cry, realizing as he did that he would be unable to fight them both successfully from his position on the ground.
From the corner of his eye, Gondor's heir saw the female propel herself off the ground. He pushed himself firmly against the trunk of the tree, not wanting the impact to knock him over. Surprisingly, instead of being slammed by the animal, Boromir heard a sharp cry of pain and a loud thud as the female hit the ground. He risked a quick glance at the body and was surprised to see a long-shafted arrow protruding from the throat. Quickly he freed his dagger from its sheath and buried it in the male's side. Enraged, the wolf snarled viciously and tried to sink its deadly fangs into its opponent's flesh. Boromir reacted instinctively as he withdrew the dagger and plunged it into the animal's eye. The male died quickly, its body falling heavily onto Boromir, knocking him sideways onto the ground.
"Well, you did need my help after all, Man of Gondor. I told the Lady that a warrior such as yourself would never need the assistance of an Elf, but she insisted."
Boromir winced, wishing someone else -- anyone else -- had found him. Taking a deep breath, he looked up and saw Haldir standing above him, hands on his hips, green eyes bright with mirth. Boromir groaned loudly. Oh, how I'd like to throttle that arrogant tree Elf! That would wipe the smirk off his face.
Haldir threw back his head and laughed heartily. The musical sound seemed to lighten the dim ravine. "If you do not want my help, I shall leave you to your own devices and return to Lothlorien. I followed you only because the Lady thought you might need someone to guard your back."
Boromir snorted derisively. "Then where were you when I fell into this bloody ravine? And where the blazes have you been while I lay here waiting to die beside this rotting, stinking corpse? If you had been but a minute longer, I would be lying here dead, wolves feasting on my still warm flesh."
Haldir shrugged his slender shoulders and turned as though to leave. "If you cannot be civil, then I am off to the Golden Wood." The Elf began to walk away from the Human, a wide grin on his face. Boromir's disgruntled voice finally commanded him to stay. Haldir stopped, but did not turn around. His grin broadened.
"Bloody Elf. You are going to make me beg you for help!"
"No, my Lord Boromir. A civil 'please' will suffice. Do all Men lack manners, or is it just the nobility of Gondor who treat everyone else as servants?"
Denethor's son grumbled something rude beneath his breath. Haldir turned around slowly. His face wore a look of total innocence. "I am sorry. I did not catch what you said." Actually, he had heard the Man's words, but was enjoying tormenting Boromir too much to let him know. The Gondorian could be such a brutish boor.
Boromir finally offered the Elf a poor attempt at a smile. "Will you help me, sir Elf? I seem to have broken my leg and a rib or two."
Haldir produced one of his silvery laughs and bent down beside the injured Man. "All you had to do was ask."
To be continued