Gondor's Bane
Part Five: The Wrong Hands

Boromir stumbled along, his mind whirling. He was becoming increasingly disoriented. The whispers were growing louder in his mind. They were driving him mad.

"Silence! Silence, please!" he pleaded, but to no avail.

It had been hours since they started again. Boromir's heart grew heavier with each step, it seemed. He could not understand what was happening to him.

I am a man of Gondor! he thought. I have fought bravely in many battles. I have faced things that others see only in their nightmares! Why does my heart quake at a Ring? Please, be silent!

Boromir was so troubled by the Ring and its whispers that he had strayed far from his course. He continued walking, his thoughts on trying to silence the Ring. He considered turning back and finding the Fellowship.

I could return the Ring to Frodo, he thought. Then perhaps my heart would not be so troubled...

No, you fool! he then found himself thinking. He will give the Ring to Sauron. What then will become of Gondor? Take the Ring to Minas Tirith and fight Mordor with it. You shall be known as a hero!

"Yes," Boromir said aloud. "Why should I give it back to Frodo? He is but a halfling. How could he possibly contend with Mordor?"

Boromir.

The Man halted. Who had called his name?

Boromir.

There it was again. Boromir reached for his sword. As he did the whispers grew louder. He felt a strong urge to slip the Ring onto his finger. He slipped the silver chain it was on off of his neck and held the Ring in his palm. The whispers grew louder still.

Boromir!

"No!" Boromir thought frantically as he held the Ring. He was now holding it between the index finger and thumb of his left hand. It was as if something other than himself was drawing his right hand closer to it. He didn't know why, but he felt he should not put the Ring on.

The Ring suddenly grew very hot and he let it fall to the ground, gasping in pain. The whispers stopped abruptly. Boromir fell to his knees and stuck his fingers into his mouth in an effort to stop the burning.

The pain slowly subsided and he stared down at the Ring. A gentle breeze blew. He lifted his head and let it sweep softly across his face. For a moment his head cleared a bit.

"What happened?" he wondered. "Why did it burn me? That has not happened before..."

He picked the Ring up by grabbing the chain He held it up to inspect it. Everything appeared normal. Boromir carefully slipped it back onto his neck and tucked it under his clothing. He began to stand, but noticed that he had become very weak. He decided to sit for a short while to regain some of his strength. He also ate some more lembas and drank a little water.

As he sat, memories flooded his mind: his farewell to his father and brother; his journey to Rivendell; the Council of Elrond; the time that followed prior to the beginning of the Fellowship's journey and the evening they left.

"For you do not yet know the strength of your hearts, and you cannot foresee what each may meet upon the road," he remembered Lord Elrond say at their parting.

"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens," had been Gimli's reply.

He remembered Caradhras; the wargs; Moria; Gandalf's falling; Lothlorien and the Lady Galadriel.

"But this I will say to you: your Quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while all the Company is true," she had said.

Memories of the stay in Lothlorien came back to him, as well as their trip down the Anduin.

"It is not the way of the Men of Minas Tirith to desert their friends at need..." he himself had once said.

He remembered then taking the Ring from Frodo and hearing the sounds of his companions battling as he fled. His heart sank. Was this what had become of him? He had left when his friends needed him. He had lied and stolen from them.

Boromir, the warrior he was, began to cry. He placed his head in his hands and sobbed.

When his tears had finally subsided he stood and again began walking. His mind was still clouded. It was the evening of the twenty-eighth day of February now. He wished the journey were finally over so he could rest. Two months before had the Company set out for Rivendell, and he was very weary.

Boromir tried to turn his thoughts to something more pleasant. He thought of seeing his father and brother once more. He longed to sit and dine with them once more.

Then he remembered his dream. What the dream meant exactly, he could not say. All Boromir knew was that he didn't like it.

Boromir.

"Silence!" he repeated. "I do not wish to hear from you! Not now, nor ever again!"

Boromir.

Whispers. Boromir was glad that he did not speak the language of the whispers and could understand naught but his name, but that was bad enough. His heart grew heavier still. His feet were like great stones. His head began to ache and he felt sick in his stomach.

He stumbled, but caught himself before he fell. He grew increasingly more tired and longed to lie down, but he continued his march.

Boromir became dizzy. The world around him seemed to spin. He held out his arms to help keep his balance. He paused and closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind.

Suddenly he felt something jump on him from behind. He fell to the ground from the force of the blow. He was weak and whatever it was easily held him down. He cried out as he struggled to get free.

His attacker clawed at his cloak, finally snatching it off. Then the attacker grabbed the chain and forcefully took it off of Boromir's neck.

"At last!" Boromir heard. "The Preciousss is ours at lassst!"

The weight that had held him down lifted from Boromir's back. He began to lift himself.

"Thief!" the attacker hissed, grabbing Boromir by his hair. "Nasssty thief! Nasssty thief took the Precious, but we has it back now, yes, Preciousss!" With that the attacker slammed Boromir's head against the ground hard and fled.

Boromir moaned in pain. He tried to push himself up, but he was in too much pain to do so. He lie on the ground clutching his head.

The Ring! he thought. I must get it back!

Then everything went black.