For the first time ever, I actually have no authors note, footnotes, apologies or anything… Wow
Eight days of long hard travel brought them to their final place on the Great River. Ahead lay the white water of Sarn Gebir and beyond the falls of Rauros.
The evening was quiet and windless, and save for the muted burble of the river, the air was silent. The sun had begun its last descent behind the jagged outline of Emyn Muil. Aragorn knew that they could not run the rapids by night and not even Nephryn's powerful weaving could stay the fall of the old sun.
Against his weary arms and shoulders, Aragorn could feel the increasing currents. Sarn Gebir was closer to hand than he first thought. He realised that they being pulled inexorably into the shoals. It was death to any who dared by night!
"Back! Back!" he cried and together with Pippen and Frodo began to paddle hard to starboard. Behind them, the others followed suit.
Slowly, the boats turned and it was with achingly small headway that they fought the current. Boromir yelled at the hobbits to paddle harder, lest they be carried to their deaths.
Without warning, the twang of bowstrings broke the night silence.
"Yrch!!" Legolas exclaimed from his position at the stern of the boat.
From above on the high cliff faces of the river, arrows rained down. Instinctively, the hobbits ducked for cover, but all they could do was cover their bare heads with their hands. All expected to be hit, but it seemed that the near darkness that hindered the fellowship was not yet dark enough for night-seeing Orc eyes.
Boromir and Aragorn yelled to the hobbits to resume the hard row toward the west bank. It was slow going, seeming more so because every moment they expected to pierced from above by the vicious spikes. Finally, the east shore began to fade and the ebb and pull of the water eased.
Frodo breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the bed of the shore grate harshly against the underbelly of the boat. Quickly, the group jumped out of the boats and hauled them ashore. Aragorn was on the verge of declaring peace when, from the south a wretched screeching sound came as a horrid black shape bore down on the group.
Legolas did not hesitated and grabbed the longbow given to him at Lorién. He sighted down an arrow and aimed it south, but found that there was no target even though the wailing piercing sounds loomed ever closer. As the shadow grew nearer, it appeared to have wide-spanning wings. The hobbits quivered in fear, shrinking down into the ground. Truth be told, Nephryn had the same inclination and was in awe at Legolas's ability to stand there and aim against a shadow-like enemy.
Suddenly, the bow of Lorién sang and two arrows shot forth, seeming to impact or at least converge with the black enemy. It swerved wildly, sweeping low in its path. Even the elf-prince could not suppress the urge to crouch down as it passed. All eyes watched as it faded, as did the pitched screams toward the dark western shore. As suddenly as the dark creature had appeared, it was gone.
Aragorn wasted no time in praise. That could wait. He instructed that they board the boats again, and for an hour, in the pitch blackness, they felt their way sightless along the shore until they reached a distance deemed to be safe for the night from the all-seeing Orc eyes.
Finally, the stopped and rested. As the sat huddled around a small fire, Gimli mumbled through a mouthful of lembas to Legolas.
"Praised be the bow of the fair Galadriél, and the hand and eye of Legolas. That was a mighty shot in the dark, my friend!"
Legolas nodded in silence, eyes staring into the fire as though to draw more heat.
"Indeed, but who is to say what I hit!" He intoned, never breaking the hypnotic gaze.
Beside him, Nephryn sat drinking warmed water. She leaned in closer to the elf-prince, drinking the heat that seemed to radiate from him. For some reason, she could not shake the chill that seemed to stab her right to the bone. She shivered and twitched in her seat and wrapped her hands in her cloak and pulled it tighter around her body.
Legolas stirred at this and looked up questioningly at her. It had neither to be asked nor answered: he simply drew her into an embrace, swathing her in his cloak as well as her own and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head. All in the group knew well now the nature of the elves relationship and none were uncomfortable with such gestures save Boromir, who it seemed was overtly affected by everything. The man was in a constant state of unease. Now, as he watched the pair, he glared at Legolas over the fire and stalked away, to where Aragorn was scouting the bank of the river.
The company slept for several hours before waking to grey dawn and white fog. Before they could agree on a further course, it was agreed that Aragorn and Legolas would scout ahead for any unforeseen dangers. Then they could decide with better knowledge of their options. It was with a heavy heart that Nephryn watched Legolas leave, but she would not speak out for that would be a sign of their collective weakness.
Three hours after, Legolas and Aragorn returned with news that the path was well worn but that the area was deserted. It was decided then that they would carry the boats past the rapids on foot. The boats proved to be quite light, such that a pair of hobbits could bear one easily over the flats, but then, as the terrain sharpened, Aragorn and Boromir had to carry each boat up the crests, while the rest carried the packs and supplies. The journey lasted well into the afternoon. By the time the exhausted group set down to rest, dusky clouds had settled on the horizon.
Though none was happy resting in the middle of the wood, all were to tired to continue travelling into the night, even sturdy Gimli, insisted on resting. It was with a moan that Nephryn fell into elven dreams in the arms of her beloved. Her muscles were pinched tight across her back and she knew well the pain she would feel come morning. And it seemed that morning was to break early for her, for she woke to Boromir's insistent nudging.
As they sat opposite each other, the fire dying between them, Nephryn could feel the heat of his gaze. When she looked up, he did not look away as one might expect, but seemed to peer even closer.
"Do you feel the pull of the Ring?" he enquired flippantly, breaking the long silence.
"It affects us all," she responded, equally casual because she did not want to pursue this line of conversation.
But he did not seem to recognise her discomfort and he cocked his head at her as though he did not believe what she'd said.
"No. I disagree. It does not affect you, or Legolas. Why is that?" he squinted at her, as if the notion stumped him completely.
"You are mistaken. The Ring draws on the inherent evil that lies within all of us. We are all flawed, have our foibles and weaknesses and the Ring appeals to this. Do not believe for even a second that we are immune to its effects."
Boromir nodded at this, and seemed to accept her answer at face value. He stared into the fire for a moment or so and then looked up again, curiosity in his tone as he spoke.
"Why then, if we are all affected by the Ring, am I so mistrusted?"
Nephryn began to panic slightly. How could she respond to this? She did mistrust him. She saw how he watched the Ringbearer intently, a covetousness glowing in his eyes. He seemed to be waiting for the halfling to falter so that he could acquire the Ring for himself. No one else in the group appeared to be quite so taken with it.
"Perhaps it is because you seem to readily dismiss the inherent danger of using the Ring, despite the fact that it was this deliberate ignorance that lead to it being lost rather than destroyed in the Second Age. I believe that we are here to ensure that the Ring is destroyed, and yet you continue to think in the same manner as Isildur."
Boromir stared at her a long while, shock written plainly on his face. Clearly he'd not expected such a brutal truth from the elf-maid, but it was not her way to skirt around the truth however blunt it might be. Boromir had expected some soothing reassurance that he was trusted and accepted, when in fact this was simply not so. He stood abruptly and stalked away from the fire.
"You should not have said that." The voice that sounded behind her was that of Aragorn's. He stood watching Boromir disappear down toward the bank.
Nephryn did not look back at the Ranger. She merely shrugged her shoulders.
"I have seen the menace in his eyes when he looks at Frodo. I know that it springs from the lure of the Ring, but that does not make it less dangerous. He should not believe that it has gone unnoticed."
Aragorn walked around to face her and sat in the spot Boromir had vacated.
"Still, he is a part of the company. We need as many allies as we can acquire," he reasoned, a glimmer of disapproval in his dark eyes.
"Even if the ally would sabotage everything you are trying to achieve. That is what happened at Dagorlad. So much blood was shed. Both elves and men died to destroy the Ring and the weakness of one meant that they died in vain. It matters not whether it was the weakness of a man or elf, neither or both. It only matters that such tragedy is not repeated."
Aragorn did not respond. They sat in silence and she kept watch with him until misty dawn broke over the tenth day.
When Boromir returned an hour after the sun rose, they gathered their belongings and carried the boats down to the shore. The shroud of anger that had descended over Boromir had not lifted when he returned and all the while, Nephryn was acutely aware of the glares he threw her way. She was beginning to question her judgement, but set the matter aside when the boarded the boats once more.
They returned to the river then, the rapids and white water safely behind them. Never had any believed that they would be glad to return to the boats, but as they paddled lazily, all knew that sitting easily on a boat was more agreeable to their aching limbs than hiking the rough land that bordered the water.
It was with great relief and awe that hours later, they finally reached Argonath, the pillars of the Kings. Though Nephryn had heard of it in passing, she'd never seen it and was amazed at the tall stone figures that guarded the boundaries of the great river. Legolas leaned over her shoulder and pointed to them, his whispered words tickling the sensitive tip of her ear.
"Amon Lhaw to the left and Amon Hen to the right. In the Second Age, watch was kept up there."
Up ahead, on the bright morning horizon, Tol Brandir, the island that sat in the Great River approached. After that, they would see clearly the three peaks that sat on the horizon: Minas Tirith, Minas Morgûl and Mount Doom. The roar of the Falls of Rauros beckoned, and the fellowship could proceed no further without choosing whether east or west to proceed.
Evening fell quickly on the tenth day. When the group past beyond Argonath, the currents in the river lulled, and Aragorn led them to the right of a river now divided by the imposing island of Tol Brandir. At the feet of Amon Hen, there grew soft grasses and a smooth terrain.
"This is Parth Galen. In long days past, it was a place of peace. Let us pray that it remains so for one more night." Aragorn looked up in awe to the stony figure of Amon Hen against the backdrop of a purple twilight and prayed silently that the luck of the ancients would stay the danger that grew by the moment.
Aragorn turned to the group and gestured to the flat soft ground and clear skies.
"Tonight is likely the last peaceful night we shall have, for tomorrow, we venture forth. Whether we go west to Entwash or east to Minas Tirith, trouble will lie closer and more daunting than know. Legolas, you and Nephryn shall take first watch. Then Gimli and myself shall follow."
Legolas nodded silently from his post where he looked out onto the Anduin, which flowed less vigorously now.
The night was not as cold as the previous ones, and it was quickly decided that it would be more prudent not to light a fire. As the sun bade farewell once more, the group settled easily, the hobbits having become more accustomed to such sleeping arrangements.
Legolas looked out across the river, the large mass of Tol Brandir diminishing his view of the far shore. He could see naught, but if something were to budge, he would make it out for the night was clear and the air still, easily depriving any Orcs of cover.
Nephryn walked up beside him, huddling deeper into her own cloak. Her hair fell loose now her shoulder in velvet waves, crowned by the silver halo of the half moon. They stood together watching out over the river until Nephryn broke the silence.
"I am worried," she whispered in hushed tones, "about Boromir. He appears to be drawn further every moment to the dark Ring. I believe it is merely a matter of time before he relinquishes control to it."
Legolas said nothing, but his hands sought hers and he pulled her closer to him.
"What can we do? Nothing I fear." He responded at last.
When he looked down at her, Nephryn could see that he too was worried, but also that it was something that'd he'd long accepted as an impossible to resolve. He opened his to speak again only to be silenced when a coarse, rasping sound carried across the still night air. It was very faint, and so only the elves heard it.
Nephryn made toward the sound, with Legolas on her heels. He drew his bow and pulled a quiver as he moved on soundless feet. He veered off to one side, while Nephryn crept along a small ditch on the other side, her long knife drawn, the hilt catching the moonlight. As she moved, the elf-maid swore that the frantic thump of heart echoed loudly around the black wood.
Without warning, a shadow darker than the night hovered among the trees. Almost simultaneously, Legolas and Nephryn jumped out in front of it. Legolas was about to loose the arrow upon the thing when he realised what, or rather who he was looking at.
"No!!" He yelled, as he watched Nephryn's knife fall. He knew instantly that she too had seen what he thought he'd only imagined. But it was too late, and her blade cut down the length of the body before them. He heard an anguished cry loose from her lips as the heavy figure of Boromir fell back.
Legolas leapt forward, bending to examine the damage. His nimble fingers pulled at the torn cloth of the man's tunic to assess the extent of injury. He felt across the chest for blood, but found nothing. He felt the body tremble below him and thought that Boromir might have hit his head as he fell, until he heard the deep rumble of laughter.
Legolas looked up the man's face to see it split in a wide grin, a maniacal sort of look in his eyes and as he chortled louder.
It seemed that Nephryn had pulled her blade back quick enough. Legolas stood and turned to where Nephryn stood, dazed and pale.
"He is uninjured," the elf-prince declared, exhaling deeply. Nephryn edged closer and, as she saw the bemused smirk on Boromir's face, her face hardened in anger.
"What are you doing out here?" she whispered furiously. Legolas placed a restraining hand on her shoulder but the elf-maid shrugged him off and drew herself face to face with Boromir as he stood.
"What were you thinking? I might have killed you?"
Boromir glared at from hooded eyes as he swaggered over to stand toe to toe, bearing down menacingly, "You didn't, but I would wage that it is what you wanted!!"
Nephryn squinted at him, looking for any sign of the rational man inside this crazed being.
"I would nev- " She did not get the chance to finish the sentence, because Boromir leaned down and pinched her shoulders hard, shaking her as he spoke in hushed sinister breaths.
"I will have the Ring." He spat angrily.
In the instant Legolas saw Boromir's hands fall on the Nephryn's shoulders, he launched himself between them and pushed Boromir back with a power that sent him stumbling. The elf-prince stood in front of Nephryn as he watched the man blink, the force of the blow appearing to bring him to his senses.
For a long moment, Nephryn stared in shock at the man slumped on the ground, for he was not the man who'd assailed her mere seconds before. She knew that it was the work of the Ring, and the same realisation was beginning to down on Boromir.
"What have I done," he whispered, staring at his hands as though he imagined they were covered in blood, a look of terror on his face. He jumped to his feet and took off in a run back toward the camp.
Legolas was about to go after him, when Nephryn held him back.
"Don't," she muttered dejectedly, "that was my fault. I should have looked to see what I was attacking."
Legolas nodded but tilted her face to him, reassurance etched plainly on his features, "Nonetheless, he should not have been out here."
For the rest of their watch, Legolas and Nephryn kept watch near the camp, where they could keep Boromir clearly in their sights. He appeared to sleep, but he kept his back to them and did not stir so they could not be sure.
The strange encounter troubled Nephryn greatly, and with every passing hour, she regretted more her impulsive actions. She could see that his behaviour was not natural but wrought by the Ring, and its influence only manifested itself in brief moments, but it did not make him any less dangerous.
When her watch was done, sleep would not come, and she lay next to Legolas staring into the night sky, willing dawn to break, so that the strange events of the night would fade from her mind. Boromir seemed at times to be completely consumed by the Ring. She fully appreciated that, were it not for her skill with the knife and supreme mental effort she could not have pulled back what would have been a fatal blow. But what troubled her more was the knowledge that she would never before have been so hasty to let the blade fall on an unknown foe. She knew in that instant that it had been misguided to lecture Boromir that the sway of the Ring affected all, but it had been truly foolish to do so while she lulled in the self-made belief that she was immune to it.