On and on Brom ran. Tears blinded him, but he refused to let them escaped his eyes. His head throbbed and his throat ached. What had he done to deserve this? Perhaps he should have headed the words of Elrond and let the old hobbit, Bilbo, come in his stead. Brom caught a tree around the middle, hugging it tight and let the rough bark scratch his face.
"HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME!?" Brom screamed to the aged air, but it was not Boromir he addressed, but his true father and mother. Still embracing the old shingled barks tree, he dropped to his knees, chunks of the bark fell into the folds of his clothes and into his hair. He didn't understand why his magic had been so important. He didn't understand why they had to sacrifice themselves for him and his magic. The only magic he had gained was to wield the Sword of Shannara, something any Ohmsford could do. "Any, but me," Brom whimpered. He stayed in his kneeling position for long moments, and then he lifted his head and looked around him.
He was near a babbling brook where the grass was green and spongy. There were more breaks in the tree here and slivers of golden light illuminated the forest. He released the tree and dusted the bark from his clothes and hair, when a flash of light caught his eye.
Brom turned his head to see a hill, golden with sunlight, and on that hill was a gleaming figure. It beckoned the pixie-boy to it. Brom rose to his feet and drifted toward the figure.
"Legolas, where is Brom? We are going to be leaving soon," Aragorn asked as he pushed a piece of lemba past Arwen's cracked, dull lips.
"You mean he isn't back?" The elf asked, looking concerned. Gimli leaned on his axe looking puzzled.
"Back? You mean he left?"
"I tried to comfort the boy, but I misspoke and he became angry and fled away. I thought he had only strayed to the edge, but now I truly do fear he has ventured inside Fangorn Forest,"
Aragorn waited for no more. He sped away from the two, leaving an unbound Arwen spread on the ground. Aragorn ignored the cries of his friends and pushed deep into the forest, unsheathing his sword, Anduril. He found the boy's tracks easily enough as Brom had obviously sped into the woods caring little about hiding for himself.
Then he heard it, a soft sobbing. He raced faster and then came to a stop next to a babbling brook. There on top of a hill, crowned in sunlight, was a figure in white, and kneeling front of him was a sobbing silver boy.
"Brom Boromir!" Aragorn bellowed , as talons of white anger gripped his heart. He would not see this man, who he guessed was Saruman, hurt the boy any more! Aragorn leapt forward, and rushed up the hill to confront the sorcerer. Brom shouted something but the white figure drew his own sword and it clashed with Anduril.
Aragorn knew the sword. It was Glamdring.
The Ranger followed the blade of the sword, up to the two aged hands that clutched the hilt of the elvish weapon and then up, up to two smiling eyes he once thought were a deep grey, but now were a smoky silver.
"Hello, Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, do you know me now?" Asked the warm voice that had haunted the Ranger's dreams since Moiria. Anduril fell from his numb fingers.
"Gandalf," Aragorn breathed, tears welling up in his eyes. Brom was now between them.
"I tried to tell you, Aragorn, but you pushed me aside," Those innocent eyes were hard again. Aragorn didn't care. He had feared the worst of the pixie-boy and now with the return of Gandalf, truly no words could explain the Ranger's joy.
"Brom! Gandalf's alive, and you're okay!" Before Brom could make a remark, Aragorn lifted him up around his waist and spun him in a circle in the air.
Brom couldn't help himself. He laughed. He laughed as he had never laughed before. Then the Ranger's arm's gave out and Brom dropped to Aragorn's chest, tucking himself into a ball and wrapping his arms around Aragorn's shoulders.
"Brom, forgive me, I got so wrapped up in Arwen I forgot about you," Aragorn said softly, his voice echoing in his chest, as he wrapped his arms protectively around the boy. "I won't forget you again,"
" I'm sorry too, Aragorn, I have wrapped myself in pity and sorrow and forgot to live, and that's what Father wanted me to do," Brom murmured. Gandalf stood to the side. Smiling and leaning on his staff, Glamdring sheathed.
" Fits of love, Aragorn? Do you miss your elven love so?" He chuckled but the haunted look that danced in Aragorn's and Brom's eyes made that joyful sound die in his throat. Then came a shout.
"Aragorn! Brom! Come look! Tracks, we've found hobbit tracks!" Cried Legolas who was by the banks of the brook. Gimli was huffing and puffing, dragging a soundly bound Arwen on their make-shift sled.
Aragorn let go of Brom and bent down, picking up Anduril, and swiftly descended the hill, Brom hopping behind him. When he reached Legolas he crushed the elf in a hug and then spun him around to show him Gandalf. The elf and the dwarf made choking sounds deep in their throats and then with shouts of joy embraced the old man.
"Now," Gandalf grinned, "What's this about hobbit tracks,"
