Shield and Sword

Lea of Mirkwood

Disclaimer: Same as always.

A/N: Yeah, boring so far. You might as well watch the movie and see the books thus far, except for some little visions and a few bit of dialogue. But I promise, the plot will take off soon. I swear. Really. (I just had to put this in because it's such a suspenseful scene and I wish they'd put it in the movie.) Just have to get to Amon Hen first...then it will be "hello, plot!"

A/N: No, I'm not listening to the audio to the Two Towers that Becky burned on a CD for me... "NO!" "Stop it! Leave him alone! Don't you understand? He's got to destroy it! That's where we're goin'! To Mordor! To the mountain of fire!" "Osgiliath is under attack. They call for reinforcements." "Please...it's such a burden. Will you not help him?"

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They traveled by night, the stars shimmering on the water and light clouds marring the horizon. Their distorted reflections shimmered on the glassy water. Boromir sliced his paddle through the water again with renewed determination. Why couldn't they use it? Boromir fleetingly for the serenity and calm his brother possessed. Aragorn had proved before that if Boromir yelled louder, Aragorn would close his ears tighter. Figuratively. The boats shoved and bumped together, and Boromir shot a sulking glare at the back of Aragorn's head. He still had not forgiven him for that little jab about not leading the Ring "within a thousand leagues of your City."

"It's your city as well," he mumbled.

"What did you say, Boromir?" asked Pippin cheekily. Boromir shook his head.

"Nothing, Pippin, nothing."

Boromir's boat clunked against Aragorn's, but this time it was not in mischief. The heir of Isildur leaned close to his friend the Captain and spoke in a low, urgent voice. "I am out of my reckoning, Boromir. I know not where I go from here. We may be near Sarn Gebir, the deathly rapids, or we may be leagues from there. I have never traveled this far before."

"Nor have I," replied Boromir, craning his neck to try and see ahead. Secretly, he was pleased that this man had at least one shortcoming. Aragorn sighed and frowned worriedly.

"I was hoping you might have some idea how far it was." Aragorn reached behind him for a skin of water, took a sip and then offered it to Boromir. The other man took the proffered drink and handed it back once he was no longer thirsty. The two men let the current carry their boats and the boat behind them for a time, and then suddenly Sam let out a cry. Boromir's head snapped up and he looked at the water. Protruding from the smooth surface were several inky black rocks, sticking up like spines. Beyond that the rippling water churned furiously and violently.

"Back!" roared Boromir. "Row back! This is madness!"

Aragorn yelled back, "Turn the boat around! Turn the boat around!"

Boromir, as he and the two hobbits frantically paddled at the water backwards, caught a fleeting glance at Legolas and Gimli. The Elf's keen eyes were as wide as the hobbit's, and he was furiously swiping at the water with his oar. Even Sam took up a paddle and violently attacked the water as if it were an orc, and the oar his frying pan. Boromir heard a hissing, whistling sound and saw a black bolt descend from the sky. It struck Frodo and bounced off his mail coat, and then flew into Boromir's lap. Even before he saw the black shaft and tattered feathers he knew it was an orc arrow.

"Attack!" he cried. "Attacks from the sky!"

A rainstorm of arrows fell from the sky and pierced the boat around them, their packs and outer layers of clothing. Merry and Pippin picked up Boromir's shield and held it over their heads like an umbrella. The arrows whistled in their ears, terrifying them as they rowed on, not as much caring for the arrows, but only thinking of getting as far back from them as possible. Another arrow fell from the sky, this one piercing Boromir's jerkin and hanging like an adornment from his shoulder. He heard an unearthly wail and felt the water around him ripple with a sudden rush of air, like a wing stroke of a bird. The moon was blotted out with a sudden darkness. Boromir looked anywhere but up. He looked down at the arrow, the arrow sticking from his shoulder and then suddenly he cried out.

Pain, blood, ripping and tearing. Arrow really in his shoulder. Swaying, falling. Dizzy, lightheaded with pain. Dying...

"Boromir! Boromir! Wake up!"

Boromir jerked himself back up with a shock to see Pippin frantically beating his arm.

"What? What?" cried the Captain of Gondor.

"Row! We're getting close to the rapids again!" cried Pippin, terrified and frozen with fear. Merry was frantically paddling, but he was too small to move such a great boat. Boromir looked over his shoulder and gasped. Almost crashing into a rock that was looming over the stern of the boat, he grabbed the rock with his arms and hung on for dear life. The boat swung around and jostled the two hobbits into crying out. Merry made a grab for the oar but yelling in horror when it was pulled away by the ripping current and dashed against the rocks. Pippin threw himself down in the bottom of the boats.

"That could be our heads!" he moaned, clinging to his pack in terror. Merry patted his cousin's back with one hand and with the other tried to extricate the other oar from underneath Boromir's knee. Boromir shifted, driving his right knee into the small space in the front of the boat to keep him inside the craft while his fingers sought little crannies in the rock to cling to. He was a great bear of a man, which enabled him to keep the boat more steady in the churning water than if he was smaller. Oh, bother. He was going to have to do it sometime.

"Aragorn!" he yelled. "We need aid!"

He managed to free one hand for a few seconds, and reached behind him to ruffle Pippin's hair. The hobbit looked up at Boromir as the man wrapped his arm back around the rock. He smiled at Pippin reassuringly.

"It will be fine, little one," he grunted, shifting his hold on the rock.

"Boromir!" cried Aragorn. "We are coming back for you!"

Boromir glanced upriver at the two other boats. They had used a length of rope to tie off the boats to a root extending out into the river, and now Gimli was being moved to Aragorn's boat, and Aragorn into Legolas'. Gimli stood fast in his boat and started letting out rope bit by bit. Aragorn and Legolas began moving downstream slowly, holding a coil of rope between them. Legolas was sitting in the back of the boat with the end of the rope wound about his fingers, and his feet braced against the seat. Aragorn leaned over the prow of the boat with the other end of the rope in his hands.

"Boromir!" he yelled. "Can you tie this off?"

Boromir looked up, turning his head sharply against the rock.

"I cannot let go, or we will be lost!" he roared, wincing as his chin scraped roughly against the stone. Pippin sat up determinedly.

"We can tie it!" he cried. "Merry and I will tie it off!"

Aragorn nodded as his boat drew nearer and nearer the stone. "Take this!"

He swung the rope around a few times, and then let it fly. The silvery coil flew through the air and landed against Boromir's broad shoulders. Merry stood up and reached for the little end and pulled. The rope slid down Boromir's back and into Merry's hands. The hobbit handed the end to Pippin, who moved to the back of the rope. He found the small metal hook at the end and tied it tightly. The boat swayed dangerously, and Merry clung to his smaller cousin to see that he would not tumble out of the boat and be dashed against the sharp rocks like their oar.

"Is it tied fast?" yelled Aragorn over the rushing water.

"Tied! Or I'm not a Took!" cried Pippin triumphantly and lay back down in the bed of the boat next to Merry.

"Good job," grunted Boromir, and managed a smile at the two hobbits. Aragorn nodded.

"Boromir!" he called. "On my count! Let go of the rock on three!"

"On three, or right after three?" replied Boromir with his usual sharp humor.

"Right after!"

"Good."

Aragorn crouched down in the prow of the boat, ready to catch Boromir's arms if he were to tumble out. He checked Legolas, who nodded curtly. Aragorn turned back to the other boat.

"One! Two! Three!"

Boromir let his fingers slip out of their holds and was immediately jerked back so violently that his hands scraped badly on the rough stone. He cried out as the skin on his palms was scraped raw. He threw himself down inside the boat and chanced a glance at the palms. Tiny beads of blood were already rising up in the little rows of scratches. Then they were forgotten as Aragorn gripped the side of the boat next to his head. Boromir sat back up and looked at Aragorn. The man was leaning out of his boat, gripping the side of Boromir's boat so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Behind him, Legolas was bracing himself against the seat, the rope wound tightly in his pale hands. The muscles in his arms were pulled taut with the strain. The Elf was gritting his teeth and holding on to Boromir, Merry, and Pippin's lives with one thin rope. The arrows began to whistle around them again. Gimli began to heave back, and both boats began to pull backwards, away from the rapids of Sarn Gebir and the flying arrows and towards safety. Boromir used the remaining paddle and tried to use it to help in moving, rowing frantically and fervently. He felt a great surge of relief when the boat ran aground near the great root. They all managed to pull the boats up against shore, and then collapsed against the sand.

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Yeah, yeah. I messed with that scene. But hey! It was plot! Boromir blacked out...heeheehee. Next chapter is the Argonath, and next will beeeee....dundundun. Amon Hen. THEN the plot will pick up. Oooh...listening to TT. (Just the audio. Picture won't work. *sad*) Théoden: Where is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? They have passed like rain on the mountains, like wind in the meadow. The days have gone down in the West, behind the hills, into Shadow. How did it come to this?

I like Théoden.

Review? I feel lonely. I am a review slug.

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