Paths of Peril -- A Dynasty Broken Book II
By Adara
I have allowed Boromir to arrive in Rivendell a week before the Council instead of the day of the Council because he was injured and needed time to rest and heal. This chapter's purpose is to show the close friendship that could have developed had Boromir never learned that Aragorn was the heir to the throne of Gondor.
A Good Beginning
The heir to the Stewardship of Gondor was seated in a high-backed chair on his room's balcony. His broken leg was propped upon a plump cushion that rested upon an ottoman covered with a rather intriguing tapestry. The heavy fabric was woven with brightly colored threads and depicted a forest scene. In the forest, ethereal creatures frolicked about naked. Because of the cumbersome splint on his leg, Boromir could not examine the ottoman closely enough to determine exactly what those creatures were up to. He supposed, however, it was something sexual, for he had heard stories about the promiscuity of Elves. It certainly would not surprise him if the scene depicted all sorts of debaucheries.
The sound of someone clearing his throat interrupted the Man's reverie. Mithrandir was standing at the entrance to the balcony, regarding Boromir solemnly. "You look much better today. A week's rest in Lord Elrond's care is exactly what you needed. May I join you?" Boromir nodded and the wizard settled his large frame into one of the chairs that adorned the spacious balcony. "I have that letter sent by the Lord Faramir. Before you read it, however, there is a tale that must be told. I would put this off until after you are better rested, but I believe you need to know these things before the convening of the Council, which is set for tomorrow. Aragorn will be there, so you will know at least one other person. The Ranger can be trusted. He is a Man who has traveled far and seen much that is evil. He would be a loyal friend, and you are in need of friends."
Boromir studied Mithrandir closely. The wizard's grim visage made his stomach clench tightly. Something definitely was wrong at home. Seeing the Man's worried look, Mithrandir sighed softly. "I wish I could say that the news is not all that bad, but I fear that it is… or was. There was great hope when I left that things would soon return to normal, or as close to normalcy as they could."
Denethor's son was fidgeting with the signet ring on his left hand. When the wizard stopped talking, he spoke rapidly. "Tell me what has happened? Has the White City suffered some grave blow by the enemy?" Mithrandir's eyes reflected pity for him and Boromir felt uncomfortable beneath that gaze. Agitated, he moved as though to rise, but the wizard stood quickly and placed a large hand upon his shoulder.
"Do not fret, son of Denethor. Although darkness was allowed to worm its evil way into the very heart of Minas Tirith, it has now been cast out. Your brother and Prince Imrahil have things well in hand."
Boromir frowned. "You say Faramir and my uncle have things well in hand, but this is my father's duty. He is the Steward of Gondor. You had best tell me the entire tale and quickly. Delay any longer with these obscure references to something having happened to the Lord Denethor, and I shall rise from this chair and shake the truth from you!" The Man's hands were clenched tightly into fists, and he shook with suppressed tension.
"I apologize. It is cruel of me to torment you thusly. This is a difficult story to tell, and I have procrastinated long enough. It all began the night of the wedding feast for you and the Princess Eledwhen. The night she left Minas Tirith. However, since you already know of those events, I shall skip ahead to things you do not know." Slowly Mithrandir spoke of things Faramir had reported to him, with one exception. He did not tell Denethor's son that his father was the one who raped the Princess. If she had not told him, it was not his place to do so. Boromir did not interrupt the wizard's tale, but remained grimly silent except for an occasional groan of horror.
"I must return home as soon as possible! This is a burden to be borne by the Steward's heir. At the very least, my brother should not have to bear it alone."
The wizard, who had been perched atop the balcony rail during the telling of his tale, moved swiftly to the Man and knelt stiffly beside him. "Your brother is not alone. Your uncle, the Prince of Dol Amroth, remains by his side. Together they make a formidable alliance. I have no fear that the White City is well."
"Have you heard anything of my father? Has any word reached Imladris of his fate?" Mithrandir shook his grayed head and rose slowly. He withdrew a letter from a pocket hidden inside the folds of his robe.
"Read this. Perhaps it will help still your fears. Afterward, if you have questions, send for me." Boromir accepted the letter with fingers that trembled almost imperceptibly. The wizard bestowed a sympathetic look upon the Man before taking his leave. Gondor's heir did not notice; he already was deeply engrossed in Faramir's letter.
* * * * * * * * *
"Please be assured, Brother, that all that can be done for Father will be done. Though I cannot say how the Steward will be once he awakens, I have high hopes that the strength that has served him so well during these horrible dark years will sustain him now. As to the identity of the Man who attacked the Princess… I shall not speak his name now. If Eledwhen has not told you, it is not right you hear it from me. I pray that you both are safe and well, and that you return home soon. The city needs you. I need you."
The letter was signed Faramir, Acting Steward of Gondor. Boromir closed his eyes and tilted his head against the back of the chair. The warm sun helped quell the chills that wracked his weary body. I should never have left Gondor, but insisted that the Princess return with me to Minas Tirith. Had I been there, I could have stopped this madness. I would have seen that something was wrong with Father and done… What? What could he possibly have done to prevent the tragic events? Even knowing the truth of what had befallen his father, he could hardly believe it. If Faramir, with his insight, could not perceive the evil wrestling for control of the Steward, then how could I?
Boromir finally fell into a sleep troubled with visions of the Prince of Rohan chained and bloodied in the dungeons of the Citadel. The visions shifted and he saw his father bent over a large globe, his face lit a fiery red from the glow within. Boromir's vision was then filled with that bright red light; from its center formed a yellow eye that seemed to stare straight into his soul. Dimly Boromir heard a dark whisper. I offer you greatness and power beyond your imagining. Return to me what is mine. With a mighty effort, Boromir pulled back from that merciless gaze and awoke to find the Ranger standing beside his chair.
"Are you all right? You are bathed in sweat and flushed. Shall I send for the Lord Elrond?" Weakly, Boromir shook his head.
"Nay, I am fine. It was naught but a nightmare. I received some rather disturbing news and, doubtless, it was that which fueled my dreams. I thank you for your concern. Will you sit and speak with me for a spell? I could use some company." Aragorn nodded and moved to a table upon which a silver tray had been set while the Lord Boromir slept. The former poured some wine into a silver cup and handed it to the shaken Man.
"Drink. It will help chase the bad dreams away." Boromir smiled gratefully and took the cup from the Ranger's hand. Aragorn poured himself a cup of the fragrant wine before moving to a chair opposite the other Man. He sank into the chair, crossed his long legs and settled back comfortably. Raising his cup in a toast, the Ranger said, "To your health, son of Denethor. May you have better luck in the days to come."
Boromir laughed mirthlessly. "I shall certainly drink to that." Both Men remained silent for several minutes as they savored the taste of the fine red wine. Aragorn, who had been staring into his cup, lost deeply in thought, looked up and saw that Boromir, too, seemed far away thinking, perhaps, of the news delivered by the letter on his lap. Boromir's sight refocused and he followed the Ranger's gaze to the letter. "A missive from my brother. Things at home are not as they should be."
Aragorn uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. "Gandalf hinted as much but would, of course, say nothing directly. If you wish a sympathetic ear, I am at your service. I have had much practice at keeping secrets, if you do not wish others to know the contents of that letter." Boromir scrutinized the Ranger intently, trying to take the measure of the Man. Slowly he nodded.
"I believe you to be an honorable person and one who can be trusted. The wizard, whom you name Gandalf, has spoken highly of you. Were my brother here, I would confide in him. But he is not and I am in need of a confidant. Our ancestors shared the same blood, and it is not likely that the Lord of Imladris would trust you with his son's life were you not worthy. The wizard says you have seen much evil in your travels. Perhaps, then, you can understand things I do not." Boromir gave the Ranger an abridged version of events he had learned from the letter and from Mithrandir. Aragorn kept a neutral expression upon his face, occasionally murmuring words of encouragement when Gondor's heir faltered, overwhelmed by sudden rushes of emotions. When Boromir fell silent, Aragorn leaned back in the chair and steepled long, graceful fingers to his face. He finally ventured a few carefully chosen words.
"I sense that you have doubts that the Dark Lord could bend your father's mind to his bidding. Would you prefer to believe the Steward of Gondor acted of his own free will?"
Boromir shuddered involuntarily. "Nay! Rather would I believe that my father was an innocent puppet, with the Nameless One pulling the strings. To say otherwise would be to condemn my father as a hopeless madman! Or worse." Again Boromir shuddered. When he spoke, his voice was softer, more reflective. "I did not know that the Steward possessed one of the Seeing-Stones. My brother and I often speculated as to what he did in the Tower late at night. And he knows things, things that only Faramir and I could possibly know. Things we never shared with another living soul. All these years I believed my father to be possessed of some magical sight."
Aragorn chuckled. "Some would say that the Palantiri are magical. These powerful globes enabled their users to witness events and to communicate with others over great distances. You would not be the first to call this magic."
The Steward's son covered his face with his hands. When he spoke, his voice was muffled. "I always believed my father to be infallible. That he could stand up to anything, no matter how foul. In June, when my brother and I faced the Nazgul on the bridge at Osgiliath, we both quaked at such terrible and pure evil. I was ashamed because I believed my father would never have been frozen at the sight of those things. I still do not know by what miracle Faramir and I managed to survive. I often have asked myself why we were spared when so many died. Do you know that only four survived?"
"Nay, I did not know, though I have heard tales of that battle; of how you and your brother must have been touched by the hands of the Valar themselves. I, too, have seen much evil and many unspeakable horrors. Would that the times were gentler and kinder." Boromir was surprised at the wistful longing he saw in the Ranger's dark eyes.
"Perhaps you will return with me to my city. I should like you to meet my brother. You two should get along famously, for you are much alike. I should also like you to meet my father. Perhaps he will be well when I return."
Aragorn looked sympathetically upon Gondor's heir. He did not want to speak of his years of service to that land, or of his acquaintance with Ecthelion's son. Some things were best left unsaid. "We shall see where fate takes us. For now, be content that Gandalf was able to save the day, and that Rohan and Gondor were spared a crippling war. For now, I must bid you good day, Lord Boromir." The Ranger placed his hand firmly upon Boromir's shoulder before leaving. Somehow, the companionable gesture made the Man of Gondor feel much better, as though a heavy load had been lifted from his shoulders. I feel there is more to this Ranger than meets the eye. He definitely bears watching.
To be continued