A/N: This is the revised version of this chapter. Thanks to Daughter of Olorin for pointing out my mistake about chronological order. *smacks head* Well, I deserve a real smack upside the head for that lapse in judgement. *smack* And by the way, as a little spoiler thing…but not really a spoiler at all…

The answer to all your questions and begging about "Can Boromir live? Please?" IT'S IN THE SUMMARY. You really don't need to beg me. Boromir can't really struggle to regain his life and quest if DEAD. Well, regain life, but that's not what I meant.

Shield and Sword

Lea of Mirkwood

Disclaimer: Same as always.

A/N: Please, please, please. I need some help here. How can I change the beginning here to make it seem more logical for Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli to leave Boromir without a proper burial? I need suggestions. Desperately. I feel what I have now is so out of character and unrealistic. ARGH! Help! Help! Ayuda me! And tell me if I'm overdoing the Sam-Speech.

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"Aragorn, he is dead. Do you not see the blood is drained from his face? Even a good dwarvish medic would not bring him back."

"No, Gimli. He cannot-" A pause, a broken sob. "He swore to me we would see the White Tower. I cannot leave him for dead."

"Aragorn, he has passed. Si bado, no círar. He is gone. It pains me to say it, but he is gone...forever."

"We must leave him, now. There is no time, Aragorn. The Uruk-hai are just ahead of us."

"We must bury him, Gimli. He is a son of Gondor, there is no way we could leave him here like carrion."

"Aragorn! Leave a cairn on top of his chest, the spirits of darkness will dare not touch him. There is no time to give him proper respect as is due to him. Take his horn, if you will. Bury that for him, but let us hurry on, or we will have two hobbits to bury as well!"

A kiss on the brow and a tear on the cheek. "Be at peace, my friend. Son of Gondor. I will not fail you."

--- --- ---

Sam crouched down by his master, bitter tears streaming down his face.

"Frodo!" he cried, gently placing his hands on either side of Frodo's pale face. "Oh! Frodo!"

He leaned over and lightly laid two fingers at the hollow of Frodo's throat and felt a pulse there, like a faint little butterfly's wings beating against his fingers.

"Frodo," he whispered. "You're alive!"

With one of his stout hands he lightly brushed the dark hair away from Frodo's forehead to look at the cut. It was wide and shallow, but there was a wicked looking bruise surrounding the bloody area. Near the center it was yellow, but at the edges faded to a dark purple. Sam laid his master's head in his lap and pulled off a strip of fabric from the edge and bound it around Frodo's head. Frodo sighed softly and seemed to be less in pain, or perhaps that was only Sam's wish.

He did not know how long he sat beaming, with tears of joy flowing down his face, but he did know that after some endless time Frodo's eyelids fluttered and then finally opened.

"Sam," he whispered hoarsely. "Sam. Where are the others?"

"Gone, Mr. Frodo," replied Sam brokenly. "They left us. We're the only ones left."

"That's good," said Frodo, and started to sit up. A wave of nausea hit him and he quickly fell back. "I was going off alone anyway."

"Alone, Mr. Frodo! Now, that won't do." Sam folded his arms sternly. "You can't be going anywhere without your Sam."

"I must, Sam, I must!" said Frodo gently, pulling himself to a sitting position. After steadying himself there he pulled himself to his knees, and then to his feet, leaning heavily on the stone statue for support.

"I must go on alone. There is no other way," he explained, slowly making his way towards the water. Sam cried out and leapt to his feet.

"Now stop right there, sir!" He rushed to Frodo's side and grabbed his master's arm tightly. "You can't be going anywhere like that, much less to Mordor. You just lean against me and if you really want to go off alone, I'll just come along with you. You'd trip over your own feet again like this and then we'd really be in a pickle."

"I can't, Sam!" cried Frodo and pulled away. "You'll be killed right away. I can't lead you to that!"

"But Mr. Frodo, you're not leading. I'm following."

A small crystal tear ran down Frodo's cheek as he looked at the grim determination in Sam's eyes. "Oh, Sam."

"I made a promise, Mr. Frodo!" cried Sam, grabbing Frodo's shoulders. "A promise. 'Don't you leave him, Samwise Gamgee!' And I said to Gildor* 'Me? No, never!' And I won't! I don't mean to. I don't mean to."

Frodo's chin trembled with suppressed tears and just as he was about to reply, he nearly collapsed. Sam quickly caught him under the arms.

"See, Mr. Frodo? You can't do without me."

"No, Sam," murmured Frodo, feeling the pain in his head increase with every heartbeat. "I don't suppose I can."

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*EAT IT. T'was Gildor, not Gandalf.

NOTE! THIS IS NOT SLASH! NOR WILL IT BE CONSIDERED SLASH. NOT SLASH. MALE BONDING AND COMPANIONSHIP. NOT SLASH NOT SLASH. I am not opposed to slash. In fact, I have a liking for the odd slash story, (coughcoughsaturdaynightcontestsbeckycoughcoughcough) but still this is not slash. I do not think slash is icky. It can be cute, when plausible and not just a shagfest. But this is not slash. Someday I may write a slash. Someday I may not. But whatever, just know this is NOT SLASH. Ah, whatever. You probably aren't even reading this, just thanking the holy muses of doom that I didn't decide to kill Frodo. But what about Mr. Bomir? (Yes, I meant to write Bomir. It's an inside joke betwixt Zeech and I. And several others.)

Feedback appreciated. Ideas on rewriting beginning? Did I overdo the Sam-speech? Tell me, please! Only through feedback can I get better!