Paths of Peril -- A Dynasty Broken Book II
By Adara
At the beginning of this chapter, the Council of Elrond has been going on for most of the morning. Boromir relates his account of the fall of Osgiliath, his encounter with the Ringwraiths, and the dream that had plagued him and his brother since that encounter. Boromir's reaction to Aragorn's heritage is not a happy one. I have used some of Tolkien's dialogue exactly as he wrote it; some of the dialogue I paraphrased. A lot of the dialogue is out of my own imagination. I hope you like the way I wove the three together to fit into my own plot.
Riddles in the Dark Revealed
Boromir found himself occasionally nodding off as he was forced to endure long-winded accounts of events in the world that were of no particular interest to himself. The dwarf's tale he found somewhat interesting, for Gloin spoke of the awakening of "the nameless fear." Boromir let his attention wander until he heard the word "ring." He then sat up straight in his chair and listened attentively.
The dwarf had been explaining how a horseman, who identified himself as a messenger for Sauron, had appeared in the night to speak with Dain, King of Durin's folk. Gloin told of the messenger's request for information about "a little ring, the least of rings" that had been stolen by a Hobbit. Although Dain had not seen fit to answer the request, he was worried about the potential threat from Mordor should he continue his present course.
"Twice the messenger has returned and has gone unanswered. The third and last time, so he says, is soon to come, before the ending of the year." Gloin looked at one of the Hobbits and smiled kindly before turning his gaze upon the Lord Elrond. "And so I have been sent by Dain to warn Bilbo that he is sought by the Enemy and to learn, if may be, why he desires this ring, this least of rings." Gloin looked expectantly at the Lord of Imladris.
Elrond's face was grim and his voice even grimmer. "We thank you for this information and for the warning. This may be of little comfort to you and your people, but I say that you do not stand alone in your defiance of the Nameless One. In good time you shall learn all you need to know concerning the purposes of the Enemy, for there are many here who have had dealings with his servants."
Gloin shook his grizzled head and growled a question. "What of this ring that the Dark Lord seeks? What importance does it hold for him that his mouthpiece rides so far from Mordor in search of it?"
Elrond looked down at the dwarf. "That is the true purpose of this Council, to reveal the truth about this "least of rings" that Sauron so strongly covets." And so Elrond began the tale of Sauron and the Rings of Power and their forging in the Second Age. After what seemed an eternity to Boromir, who was becoming extremely uncomfortable sitting in the hard, straight-backed chair, Elrond finally came to the part of his story that concerned Isildur. "Isildur cut the Ring from Sauron's hand with the hilt-shard of his father's sword and took it for his own."
Boromir stirred in his chair and leaned forward eagerly. "So that is what became of the Ring," he cried. "I have heard of the Great Ring of him that we do not name, but we in Gondor believe that it perished from the world in the ruin of his first realm. Isildur took it! This is tidings indeed. Now do I see the importance of the Lord Gloin's tale, for I perceive the truth of this 'least of rings' spoken of by the messenger."
Elrond gave the Man a sharp look before turning his gaze upon the faces of those about him. Each contained an expectant look mixed with dread. The Elven Lord sighed inwardly before continuing his tale. At last he spoke of the realm of Gondor in the South and of its long struggle to endure against the forces of darkness. He touched briefly upon the evil things that took Minas Ithil and dwelt in it and named it Minas Morgul, the Tower of Sorcery. "Then Minas Anor was named anew Minas Tirith, the Tower Guard, and these two cities were ever at war. But Osgiliath, which lay between, was deserted and in its ruins shadows walked." Elrond turned to Boromir. "So it has been for many lives of Men, but the Lords of Minas Tirith still fight on. Now, to our great sorrow, the One has been found. Others shall speak of its finding, for in that I played small part.
"But first we must hear from the Lord Boromir, who has come all the way from Minas Tirith to hear the answer to a dream that haunts both him and his brother." Saying this, Elrond motioned the Man of Gondor to take the floor. Boromir rose slowly, keeping a firm grip upon his cane, and took the place vacated by his host. He stared at those about him, letting his gaze linger upon the face of the Ranger of the North. There was something in Aragorn's expression that Boromir found unsettling. Slowly he turned his gaze back upon the Lord Elrond.
"The news from my homeland is grim, for we are constantly harried and set upon by the minions of the Nameless One. In June, terrible creatures -- I since have learned were vile servants called Ringwraiths -- won the passage of the bridge of Osgiliath and dispersed northward. My brother, Faramir, and I were able to drive back the enemy and destroy the bridge, where we almost met our doom. We lost all but four who fought for Osgiliath, and yet we remain steadfast in our resolve to rid Middle-earth of this evil.
"Our numbers dwindle, however, and little help have we earned from those whose lands have been spared by the spilling of our blood. Gondor will fight on until the last of her sons falls in battle. And when that day comes, the dark tide will sweep across the lands to our north and all shall be destroyed or come under the dominion of Mordor. I shall not live to see this happen, I think, but the thought of all that is good dying so tragically makes my blood run cold." Boromir fell silent and it seemed he would not speak again.
Elrond prodded him to continue. "The hour grows late, son of Denethor, and we would hear of the dream that has plagued you since the fall of Osgiliath."
Boromir's eyes refocused and he lifted his proud head. Squaring his shoulders, the Man began the tale of the dream. "On the eve of the sudden assault of Osgiliath a dream came to my brother in a troubled sleep. Afterward a like dream came oft to him again, and once to me. In that dream I thought the eastern sky grew dark and there was a growling thunder, but in the West a pale light lingered and out of it I heard a voice, remote but clear, crying:
Seek for the Sword that was broken:
In Imladris it dwells;
There shall be counsels taken
Stronger than Morgul-spells.
There shall be shown a token
That Doom is near at hand,
For Isildur's Bane shall waken,
And the Halfling forth shall stand.
"Long did my brother search for answers to this dream in the libraries of Gondor, finding nothing but frustration. He asked leave of my father, the Steward of Gondor, to seek Imladris and the riddle's answer. But my father remained steadfast in his refusal until certain events forced me to undertake the journey. Of those events I shall not speak of here, for they be of a personal nature."
At this bit of news, Aragorn looked speculatively at the Man, wondering what portentous event could have forced Gondor's Captain-General to leave his country in crisis and seek the counsel of Elves. He looked at Haldir, but the Elf's expression was unreadable; he sat ramrod straight in his chair, his gaze locked upon the Man of Gondor. Aragorn turned his attention back to Boromir in time to hear him say: "Long was the road I wandered. I was pursued by evil and injured twice, once near to death. But of these things I shall say no more, for I am here and alive and seek answers, not pity."
Aragorn knew the time had finally come for him to reveal to Boromir his true identity. He had dreaded the coming of this day because he feared it would mean the end of their blossoming friendship. But Isildur's heir was not one to shrink from unpleasant tasks and so he stood and cast his sword upon the table that stood before Elrond. "Here is the blade that was broken," he said quietly.
Boromir's expression was one of surprise and uncertainty. He looked slowly from the blade on the table to Aragorn's face and back again. "How is it that a Ranger carries Elendil's sword, and what have you to do with Minas Tirith?" He watched the other's face closely and noted the sadness that flickered briefly across it.
"He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn," said Elrond, "and he is descended through many fathers from Isildur, Elendil's son of Minas Ithil."
Boromir was stunned into silence and he took two steps away from the Ranger. His eyes narrowed and suspicion glinted there for all to read. "I knew that there was more to you than met the eye, yet never would I have thought you to be deceitful." The Man's tone of voice was filled with the anger of betrayal. His gray eyes were hard as steel as he stared unflinchingly into the eyes of his erstwhile friend.
The heavy silence was broken finally by the light voice of one of the Hobbits. "Then it belongs to you and not to me at all!" cried out Frodo. Boromir looked at the creature that had been seated across the table from him the night before during the feast. His jaw dropped and he looked to Elrond for an explanation.
"Bring out the Ring, Frodo!" It was Gandalf who spoke. "The time has come. Hold it up and then Boromir will understand the remainder of his riddle."
The Hobbit reluctantly drew forth a round golden ring that gleamed and flickered as he held it up before the members of the Council. All noted how his hand trembled. "Behold Isildur's Bane!" cried Elrond.
Boromir looked in amazement from the Ring to the small creature that held it. "The Halfling," he muttered. Looking back to Elrond, he cried: "Is this then the doom of Minas Tirith come at last? But why then should we seek a broken sword? And what proof is there that this is Isildur's heir?" He looked challengingly at Aragorn as he asked the last question.
Elrond stiffened and started to speak, but it was Aragorn who answered. "The words were not the doom of Minas Tirith, but that doom and great deeds are at hand. For the Sword that was Broken is the Sword of Elendil that broke beneath him when he fell. Now that you have seen the sword that you have sought, what would you ask? Do you wish for the House of Elendil to return to the Land of Gondor?"
Boromir's voice was barely under control when he spoke. "I want nothing from a Man who befriends another under false pretenses. Nor did I come here to beg any boon. I came for answers, and answers I have found. As soon as I am able to ride, I will return to my homeland and continue to defend her until my dying day."
An Elf dressed in green and brown jumped up out of his chair and quickly moved to stand beside Aragorn. "You should not speak with such disrespect to your future King." Aragorn groaned softly and stilled the Elf with a sharp look.
Boromir's eyes narrowed to slits. "I shall never call this Man 'King.' Nor will I support him against my father. Do not presume, Aragorn, that you can stroll into the White City and claim her for your own with nothing but old legends to back you. I have earned my birthright by fighting and bleeding for the nation that I love. What right have you to lay claim to the country I have protected most of my life?"
Aragorn said nothing. He felt wretched and wished he had been open about his heritage from the beginning. He had not because he hoped they would become friends, thereby preventing the ugly scene everyone at the Council now bore witness to. "Enough," Elrond said, his voice harsh. "This is a matter to be settled another time and in another place. I will not allow petty jealousy to deviate us from our true purpose. Lord Boromir, if you cannot conduct yourself in a manner befitting your station, I must ask that you leave this Council."
It took every ounce of control he possessed, but Boromir managed a formal bow to both his host and his rival. Gathering his dignity about him like a cloak, he limped back to his chair and sat down. He looked up and caught Aragorn gazing at him with a look that was a mixture of pity and regret. It was the pity Boromir saw in the Ranger's face that made him swear he would see Aragorn dead rather than allow him to be crowned King of Gondor. He turned his head and his gaze fell upon the Halfling with the ring. "Lord Elrond. You say that Isildur's Bane has been found, but how do we know that this ring is the One? I have seen a bright ring in the Halfling's hand, but I do not know that it is the same as Isildur cut from the hand of the Dark Lord. How do the Wise know that this ring is his? I would have proof, since I doubt that such a great treasure would have fallen into the hands of so strange a messenger."
"I believe it is time for Bilbo to tell his tale," said Gandalf, looking toward the older Hobbit. And so Bilbo told, for the first time, the true tale of his finding of the Ring. And after him, Gandalf explained how he had determined that the Ring was, indeed, the One crafted by Sauron in the Second Age.
And so the Council continued and much was revealed, but Boromir, in the bitterness of his rage, heard only snatches of this and that. Often he looked at Aragorn from beneath hooded lids, his anger building, fueled by his belief that the Ranger had only been friendly with him to…what? Surely the Man did not believe that the heir to the Stewardship of Gondor would help a stranger usurp his father's rule. And, too, he had liked Aragorn; had been drawn to him as a kindred spirit. He felt as relaxed around the Ranger as he was with Faramir, which made the Man's betrayal that much more insidious. I must return to Minas Tirith as soon as possible to warn Father against the coming of Isildur's heir. I not only have my own birthright to protect, but that of my son.
Boromir was so absorbed in his own tortured thoughts that he almost did not hear Elrond when he pronounced the fate of the One Ring. A startled gasp snapped him back to the present in time to hear the Lord of Imladris say, "We must send the Ring to the Fire."
Everyone fell silent. Boromir looked upon those in the room with disbelief. He frowned and finally found his voice. "It is folly and madness to even think about destroying this Ring, for it is our only chance to defeat the Nameless One. If the Elves do not have the stomach to use this power, then give it to the race of Men. We are not frightened by children's stories or ancient legends."
Elrond blinked rather owlishly before gaining control of himself. He knew better than to be shocked by anything said by a Man. "And whom would you suggest we choose to carry the burden of the Ring?"
"I will carry this 'smallest of rings' if no one else has the courage or good sense to do so. It is a tool to be used to save Middle-earth. It would be folly to throw it into the fire and end all our chances for survival!" Boromir was breathing heavily and a hint of desperation glinted in his gray eyes.
"Have you heard nothing? You cannot wield the Ring. None of us can! The Ring answers only to Sauron. It must be destroyed." Aragorn spoke rather more sharply than he had intended, but he needed to make Gondor's heir understand their situation. He could tell by the stubbornness blazing in Boromir's eyes that he did not accept the need for the Ring's intended fate.
"I ask only that you give me the means to defend my people. We are near the end of our strength and yet we somehow manage to fight on. The One Ring is the only hope for Gondor that I can see, and you say to cast it into the Fires of Mount Doom. If this is wisdom, then I am an orc." Boromir turned to face Aragorn, who stood only a few feet from him. Boromir's gaze was challenging, as though he dared Isildur's heir to disagree with him.
Finally, Boromir spoke directly to the Ranger. "If you are truly Isildur's heir, you would support my position to use the Ring to save our people. For if we do nothing, there will be no kingdom for you to rule. What say you to that, son of Arathorn?"
Aragorn ignored the Man's sarcastic tone and answered levelly. "I say that we must listen to those who have lived much longer than have we. Elrond was with Elendil and Isildur during the Last Alliance when Sauron was overthrown. The Lord of Imladris survived the Black Years and learned much that can help us defeat the Enemy in his new guise. I say it would be folly to ignore his advice."
Boromir next turned to Elrond, his hard features softening. When he spoke, his tone was almost plaintive. "I do not understand all this. Why should we not think that the Great Ring has come into our hands to serve us in the very hour of our need? Wielding it, the Free Lords of the Free may surely defeat the Enemy. That is what he most fears, I deem. I say take the Ring and go forth to victory!"
Elrond shook his head sadly. He knew that if Boromir could not be made to see the folly of wielding the Ring, his leave-taking of Imladris would be a bitter one indeed. "We cannot use the Ruling Ring. It belongs to Sauron and was made by him alone, and it is altogether evil. Its strength, Boromir, is too great for anyone to wield at will, save only those who have already a great power of their own." To forestall the eager question he saw in the Man's eyes, Elrond rushed his next words. "But for the Wise, it holds an even deadlier peril. For should someone be strong enough to cast down the Dark Lord, we would then have yet another Dark Lord in his place. And that is another reason why the Ring should be destroyed; as long as it is in the world it will be a danger even to the Wise. I will not take the Ring to wield it."
"Nor will I," Gandalf added. Boromir looked at them doubtfully, his anger simmering just below the surface. He began to twist the signet ring on his left hand. When he spoke, his voice had a hard edge to it.
"If this is the decision of the entire Council, then so be it. I shall return to my homeland and continue to lead my Men in battle. Mayhap the Sword that was Broken may still stem the tide, if the hand that wields it has inherited not an heirloom only, but the sinews of the Kings of Men." Boromir's last words were a direct challenge to Aragorn, who lifted his eyes to hold the gaze of the other and replied softly, "Who can tell? But we will put it to the test one day."
Boromir gave a derisive snort and said bitterly, "May the day not be too long delayed. And may this so-called future King of Gondor be of sterner stuff than Isildur, for had he not taken the Ring for himself, but destroyed it when he had the chance, Gondor would not now be in such a desperate position." Aragorn bowed his head and said nothing. The silence in the room became unbearable. Elrond finally declared that the Ring would be destroyed, and that it was now only a question of who would carry the One Ring into the very heart of Mordor.
Bilbo spoke up and everyone was amazed and even amused by the old Hobbit's assumption that the Peredhil meant for him to bear the Ring to Mordor. Once it was made clear to Bilbo that his role in the saga was over, everyone looked about to see who next would step forward. There was an uncomfortable silence when no one did. The noon-bell rang, and still no one stirred. Finally, into the loud silence, a small voice was raised. "I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way."
Boromir gaped at the diminutive Hobbit who stood trembling in the center of those gathered for the Council. For an instant, the Man was tempted to laugh at the absurdity of such a small and defenseless creature undertaking such an enormous task, but the laughter never erupted for he saw that no one else was amused. Instead, their faces were solemn and Boromir could see that all had respect for the Hobbit called Frodo.
"If I understand aright all that I have heard, I think that this task is appointed for you, Frodo, and that if you do not find a way, no one will." Elrond's voice resonated deeply about the hall. Again there was silence, until the voice of another Hobbit piped up: "But you won't send him off alone surely, Master?" Elrond smiled at the Hobbit who had spoken.
"No indeed, Master Samwise. You, at least, shall go with him. It is hardly possible to separate you from him, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."
Boromir felt lightheaded, as though he was trapped with a group of madmen. He could not believe that the Wise would entrust such a heavy and important responsibility to two small Halflings who had never been out of the Shire before their journey to Rivendell. He groaned, walked heavily to his chair and sat down. "Such madness," he muttered. "Such madness."
Aragorn watched the Steward's son closely. What would I do were I in his shoes? he thought wearily. Would I be able to accept the Council's decision, especially since it could mean the destruction of my homeland? The Ranger barely heard Elrond announce a recess. He was trying to understand Boromir's position so that he might appeal to his good senses. Aragorn knew, more than any other, how important the Steward's heir would be in his struggle to claim the throne of Gondor.
Boromir glanced up and caught the Ranger's intense gaze. His eyes narrowed and his noble features formed into a scowl. Slowly he rose and made his way, alone, to his chamber.
* * * * * * * * *
Boromir was standing on the balcony off his bedchamber when he sensed someone behind him. Instinctively he clutched the hilt of the dagger he always kept on his belt. "So, you are returning to Lothlorien." He heard a light chuckle and knew he had correctly guessed the identity of his visitor.
"You are beginning to develop elvish traits. The Lady Galadriel will be pleased." Haldir moved soundlessly onto the balcony. "How did you know it was me?"
The Man chuckled and turned to face the Tree Elf. "I was expecting you. I heard someone say you would be leaving ere nightfall and I simply assumed you would want to see if I had any more letters to send to my wife. Tell me, what do you think about the Council's decision?"
Haldir studied Boromir's face intently before shifting his gaze to the high garden above the steep bank of the river. Idly he watched two figures sitting on the porch on the side of the house facing east. Shadows had fallen in the valley below, but there was still light on the faces of the two lovers. A swift smile pulled at the corners of the Elf's mouth before he turned to face the Man beside him. The smile was quickly replaced by a frown as he studied Boromir's face. "What troubles you more? That the Ring will not be used to save Gondor, or that Aragorn will claim the Kingship you have always dreamed of?"
Boromir shook his head and looked away to the east. He stiffened as he saw Aragorn and the Lady Arwen in the garden below. Haldir followed his gaze. "Jealousy does not become you. Besides, I thought the two of you had become friends."
"I do not make friends with those who would destroy my family." Angrily the Man limped to his customary chair and sat down. He fixed Haldir with a cold stare. "Would you have me befriend the one who plots to usurp my father's rule? A Man who would cast my brother and myself out of our home?"
Haldir shook his head vehemently. "You do not know Aragorn well if you can think that of him."
"I know him not at all. Nor do I want to." Boromir's fierce scowl skewed his fair features into an unattractive mask. Haldir felt real concern for the Man's sanity.
"You must accept what you cannot change. Were you not taught that someday the King would return and the Stewards' reign would end? Has this not been an event all have hoped for?"
"Not all," Boromir said darkly.
"I should have added 'present company excluded.' Perhaps you should accompany me to the Golden Wood. I planned to leave within the hour, but I could delay my departure until the morn." Haldir looked at the Man sympathetically. He now understood the depth of the emotions churning within Gondor's Favorite Son. What would he do should Estel help defeat the Enemy and claim what had always been beyond the reach of the Man's forefathers?
"I think you should speak with Aragorn. I could tell that you liked him -- before the Council and the revelation of his lineage. I truly believe that, working together, you two can make a difference in the outcome of the struggle ahead. I beg you not to throw away this opportunity over mere Human emotions."
Boromir did not look at Haldir as he mumbled, "I think it is time for you to return to your homeland. Please deliver my letters to Eledwhen, and say nothing to her about what you have learned. I do not want her upset."
Haldir placed a delicately boned hand upon the Man's shoulder and leaned down until his lips were mere inches from Boromir's right ear. "It will make no difference to your lady whether you are a Steward or a common soldier, which you could never be. She loves the Man that you are, not the title that comes with the Man. I wish you good health and good fortune."
Boromir didn't hear the Elf leave. He was wrapped too tightly in his own tortured thoughts. Haldir's last words rang in his mind. Perhaps he is right. But, if he is, then my life's work has been meaningless and I am no more than a common soldier. And should the war be won? What place in Aragorn's kingdom will there be for the heir of the former Steward?
He settled his head against the back of his chair, closed his eyes and was soon asleep. His dreams were dark and disturbing. Once again he saw a great lidless eye and heard a disembodied voice. "Bring me what is mine and I shall reward you with that which you desire above all else, King Boromir."
To be continued