Shield and Sword

Lea of Mirkwood

Disclaimer: Same as always.

Rating: This chapter may be PG-13 for violins on TV.

A/N: ENTER THE PLOT!!!!!!!

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Boromir stood slowly, dashing his arm across his face to wipe away his tears. However, his eyes simply filled up again. He turned back towards where he had come and called again to Frodo.

"Frodo! Please-" he cried, weeping. "Forgive me! Frodo!"

But Frodo was laying in the hollow under a statue, and had slipped into blackness. Boromir looked around, but the halfling was out of his sight. He shivered, and a choked sob escaped his lips.

"Oh, what have I done?" he whispered. Running back to where he had fallen, he picked up his shield and looked at the edge with horrified eyes. He ran one callused finger across the metal edging and looked at the blood. A fresh wave of sobs racked his body.

"I have killed him!" he gasped. "Sweet Eru, I have killed him!"

Boromir frantically wiped the edge of the shield against the ground, weeping furiously as he did so. He threw the strap back over his shoulder and ran back to where he struck Frodo, feeling in the leaves for an invisible body. He found none, and became ever more frantic and terrified.

"I have killed him!" he wept. "And now the wraiths will find him and the Ring...for he is in the shadow world. I have failed them all. All, all, all. I have failed. It is my fault if all the world is covered in darkness. It is mine! The fault is mine!"

Boromir suddenly felt a wave of terror so strong he stood up and backed away.

"I will run!" he cried. "I will leave- no...I must go. I must tell Aragorn what I have done."

He turned away and ran from Amon Hen as though he were followed by the forces of darkness. As he was running, however, he heard the sound of cries. Stopping dead in his tracks, he peered through the trees, trying to discern which direction they came from. To his left and front. Changing his course, he ran faster towards the cries, determined to save them.

For he had recognized the cries of Merry and Pippin.

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Boromir found them, at least two miles away from where he had been before. They were running away from a band of Uruk-hai, stopping every few feet to cut off a few of the foul hands. As he grew closer he saw one large Uruk raise its battle axe over its head, taking long strides towards two hapless hobbits. He was close enough to see the terror in their faces, but not yet close enough to help. He took a deep breath and let out a roar of fury that made the Uruk pause for a single moment, long enough for Boromir to leap in and grab its axe by the hilt. Swinging it around, Boromir wrenched it from the foul creature's hands and slammed the sharp edge into its stomach. Merry cheered and grabbed onto Boromir's belt for a brief second, tugging supportively. The gesture of trust brought tears to Boromir's eyes.

"Go!" he cried hoarsely. "Go, quickly!"

The two hobbits nodded shortly and started running away from the band of Uruk-hai. There were nearly forty of the foul beasts, all snarling and growling at the three companions like foul beasts. Pippin snarled back at them and swung his little blade threateningly, while Merry picked up stones and threw them. Boromir fought off another beast, driving his sword into its side and pushing the body away with his shield on his right arm. Boromir was left-handed, and a great swordsman as well. He beat off another Uruk, taking off his head while waving at the hobbits to run. When he clove the next one's head in two, he began to realize that it was hopeless. Desperately, he clawed at his waist for the Horn of Gondor. Bringing it to his lips, he blew a long deep note that echoed through the forest like a wave. Only more orcs came. He blew it again, the horn-call of Gondor. It echoed through the hills. Only more orcs came. Boromir felt a great weariness settle in his bones as he brought his great broadsword down on another Uruk-hai. Black blood spurted from where he had struck the foul creature. He heard the high voices of his two hobbit friends as they attacked a smaller Uruk-hai. Suddenly Boromir heard a dreaded sound, the gnashing of teeth and growling that had been haunting his dreams for endless nights. He hefted his shield up with one hand and snarled at a tall Uruk, blocking its blow with the round shield. It roared at him and he roared back. One thought rang in his aching head.

I'm going to die today.

He gripped his sword tighter and charged another attacker.

"Go!" he bellowed at the hobbits. "Run!"

A great sense of peace filled him. Of course. He was going to die. The Uruk-hai swung a wicked blade down at him, and Boromir raised his shield to block it. The blade bit into the metal edge and rang back. While the creature raised its sword up to strike him, Boromir drove his sword up to the hilt into its belly. Rocks flew all around him, and he turned to still see the hobbits.

"Go!" he cried, motioning for them to go on. "Go!"

Suddenly the world shifted and Boromir felt a wave of nausea wash over him. The dreams...the visions...

He was in them.

As he was turned away from the battle, motioning to the hobbits, he felt a sharp tug and took a lurching step backward. He saw Merry and Pippin staring at him in horror. Pain ripped through his left shoulder and his entire left arm fell useless to his side, in too much pain to move. He looked down and saw the black shaft of an arrow protruding from his shoulder. He felt his muscles ripping apart where the stone head of the arrow was tearing his flesh. He gasped for breath, small breathless moans of pain escaping his lips.

"Boromir!" wailed Pippin. The cry broke his shock and he switched his sword to his right hand, holding his shield with his left arm that was nearly numb with pain. He let out a war cry and swung his sword in a wide arc, slicing open the stomach of a nearby Uruk-hai. It fell to the ground, blood spurting from the wound with every breath it took, like wine from a cask. Boromir's eyes searched the clearing for an Uruk with a longbow. Finally he saw him, his nemesis, standing off to the side, aloof, tall and fierce. Boromir cried out and thrust his sword forward, puncturing an Uruk's lung. As he turned in a circle, keeping the Uruk-hai at bay, he heard the snarling and groaning of wood as the longbow was bent back again. Boromir heard the noise and turned around, weakly lifting his shield to block the arrow. An Uruk-hai behind him swung a blade and it sliced into his thigh. His leg buckled, but he kept his shield before him. The arrow left the bow and drove through his shield, passing through the wood and driving into his forearm. If his shield had not been there it would have pierced his heart. The Captain of Gondor looked down in horror at his arm. He saw the place next to the shield where the arrow came through, pinning his arm to his father's shield. But far more terrifying to him was the place in the inside of his forearm where he saw the bloody head of the arrow, all the way impaling his sword arm. He looked down at his limp hand and watched as it filled up with his own crimson blood, spilling through his fingers. He gritted his teeth and tried not to cry out. The pain was overwhelming. He watched as the world swam before his eyes. His left arm with the shield hung uselessly at his side as he swung his blade again, slicing off an orc's arm. It fell to the ground, shuddering and twitching as it stained the leaves black with blood. Boromir raised his eyes and looked into the blank eyes of the statue near him. A man of Gondor, possibly his forefather, gazed blankly and unseeingly down at the Captain of Gondor, son of the Steward.

"Boromir!"

"No!"

Boromir heard the cries of the hobbits and turned. Two monstrous Uruk-hai were picking up his two friends. He watched one clout Pippin on the side of the head and throw him over his shoulder. Merry clawed and pounded on the creature's arms.

"Boromir!" cried Merry, stretching his arms out to his friend in a plea for aid. But as Boromir took a step in their direction, another arrow pierced his side. As a haze of pain settled over his eyes he reached to his side for the Horn of Gondor but found it cloven in two. He fell to his knees as the remaining Uruk-hai ran around him, following the two who had taken Merry and Pippin. He was forgotten. Lost. Blood poured from his maimed arm and soaked through his clothes. He coughed laboriously and tasted blood.

I'm going to die today.

Boromir's eyes closed and he slumped to the ground.

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Is this a cliffhanger? Why I believe it is! Is Boromir dead? Is FRODO dead? All from that little decision. Who can guess what that decision was?