The boats of the Lothlorien elves were quite the presents. They cut through
the water smoothly, no matter how many supplies were stacked inside. They
were light enough for any two of the smallest of the company to carry
easily, and yet strong enough for Boromir to have no doubt in their safety.
He was content to travel like this - cutting easily through the river, with Merry in front of him and Pippin behind. The going was easy, almost pleasant. Despite his misgivings about the path ahead, and the time approaching when he would have to choose once and for all his country or this quest, his spirit was almost light.
They camped at night along the river, and found no sign of enemy or danger from any direction.
The first night they stopped late, and camped close to the water. As Gimli and Aragorn set up the fire, and Legolas walked the trees to scout any sign of trouble, Boromir went to the boats to grab packs of food, and watch his hobbits bide time by the water.
"I almost like this place," Merry announced as he crouched on a rock overlooking the water. "It reminds me of fall nights in Buckland."
Pippin was smiling again. His irrepressible spirits had risen before they left Lothlorien, and though he had dark moments of remembering Moria, he recovered his smiles fast. "Of sneaking down the water's edge to make sure we didn't leave footprints. Some bit of stolen crops or laundry or some other mischief in our hands."
Boromir grabbed the food he had been sent for and smiled at the two hobbits before setting back out for the camp site.
He lay the packs down, nodding at Aragorn. "The little ones seem to be enjoying the water. Should I stay with them, for safety?"
Aragorn regarded him, then glanced to his side. Frodo and Sam sat, both pressing into the fire.
"The other little ones." Boromir was instantly stiff. He didn't have to have it any more clearly stated that Aragorn did not trust him with Frodo.
Frodo looked up at him and smiled. "Not this one, that's for sure. I've been staring at water enough to make me almost want to go thirsty to avoid it."
"Same for me, and no mistake." Sam leaned in towards the fire, his brow knit in its almost constant furrow. "Let them enjoy as much as they want. I'll be right here by the warm fire."
Boromir smiled to himself faintly. There were small similarities between these two and the two he had come to call friends. But not many. He decided not to wait for Aragorn's approval. "I'll keep my eye on them. We're within calling range." He met Aragorn's eyes for a moment and turned away from the fire.
Merry was standing on his rock perch when he came into view again. He held a rock or nut or something equally small, and was tossing it into the air and catching it as he looked out at the water.
"-to know what we were up to that day. You can bet she asked Rosie all about it." Pippin sat on the edge of one of the boats, chatting merrily, if quietly.
Merry turned a smile to him. "And, of course, since we are both standing here alive and well, we were right to give her those mushrooms. It served well to keep her mouth shut about what she saw."
Boromir felt the tension caused by Aragorn draining from him again, and he approached the pair quietly.
Funny how they struck him at times. They could be just another face, another friend, another member of the company to him at one moment, and then.
Then, with no visible change, he found himself looking on them in what could be called adoration. Their bright eyes, their smiles, their voices, stories, mannerisms. At times they struck him as being absolutely precious, and he felt glad to be in their trust more than the others of the company.
He wanted them safe. He wanted to take care of them, as Merry had guessed well enough. Almost as if they were children, but not in the same way at all. He didn't think of them as children, not anymore. He wasn't sure exactly what he thought of them. The closest description he could think of was listening to Legolas talk about his woodland home, or watching Gimli guard over his gift from the lady Galadriel. They were to be protected, because - and this was entirely possible - they were the most pure things he had ever come to know.
He looked at Merry, standing on his rock, almost glowing in the last few glints of sunlight through the trees. Smiling without the care that seemed at times to be overtaking him.
And young Pip, laughing and carefree. Though Pip wasn't as deep in Boromir's heart as Merry. Not when Boromir had come to identify some of himself in Merry, and to grow that much more fond of him because of those similarities. Still, Pip was inside him much deeper than most ever got. Much more than the others sitting back at the fire.
He cleared his throat after a moment. "Your Mr. Gamgee seems to think the two of you are a little cracked for wanting to look on the river any longer than necessary."
Pip laughed in his high voice. "Sam hardly needs a reason to think we're cracked. He has for years now."
Merry grinned at Boromir. "There's quite an interesting story behind that, though. Did Pip tell you yet about our first real meeting with Master Samwise?"
Pippin started laughing instantly.
Boromir moved into the open, smiling. "I don't believe so."
Merry tossed his rock one last time, then, with a flick of his wrist, he sent it skipping over the river to get lost in the current.
Pippin started on the story with relish. "Well. We had seen old Sam around, of course, him being the son of Bilbo's gardener, and Frodo being our relation and friend and all. But we had never had cause to really have words with him. That is, until.when was it, Merry? Which of Frodo's birthdays?"
There was no answer.
Pip waved the question away. "It doesn't matter. Frodo wasn't of age yet, and Merry and I were just lads. Sam.I believe Sam is only slightly older than Merry, though to know him you'd believe he was the oldest hobbit here."
Boromir's eyes went to Merry again as Pip talked.
His smile faded as he caught sight of the still form.
Merry had grown tense, so tense it showed all over him. His eyes were still on the water, and his hand was still half in the air, as if he had just thrown that stone from his hand a moment ago. It was perhaps just the dimming light, but all color seemed to be gone from his face. He looked suddenly horrified.
Boromir frowned, looking to the water. If something were there, he would have said something. But.
He thought, suddenly and instantly, that maybe he understood.
Pippin was going on merrily. "-and out comes Samwise Gamgee, red in the face and blasting out that someone was going to pay for the damage to the flowers. Little did he know that Merry had already rigged the door to the hole, and-"
"Pip." Boromir spoke softly.
Pip focused on him. "What?"
"Maybe we should continue this story by the fire. I don't like being out here now that the sun's set."
Pip lit up. "That's a great idea. The story is so much more fun to tell when Sam is right there listening." He shot to his feet. "Come on!"
"We'll catch up." Boromir waved him off with a smile and turned back to Merry.
Still the hobbit stood there, looking unaware that anything was going on around him.
Boromir approached the flat boulder Merry stood on, noting absently that perched up there Merry was almost as tall as Boromir himself.
He reached out with light fingers and touched Merry's arm, bringing it down slowly from its frozen pose. "Merry."
Merry blinked over at him. He swallowed.
Boromir nodded towards the river. "You can drop your guard, I think. There aren't any monsters waiting to come out and grab any of us."
Merry started, going even more pale. He turned to the water again. "I."
Boromir nodded. "This whole time, you've blamed yourself as much as Pip has, haven't you?"
Merry didn't answer.
"When I said you could be as grave as Frodo, I was right. You have held this guilt inside you and not even let on."
"Pip was."
"You blame yourself. Honestly?"
Merry shrugged, looking down at the hand that had thrown the rock. "If I hadn't thrown the rocks, that creature in the water wouldn't have awakened. We would have left Moria and found some other path to take."
"Pip threw the stones too."
"No. I started it. He does as I do."
Boromir smiled. "I find more and more things the two of us share every day. You would take on guilt for Gandalf's death, yet you've spent hours in quiet conversation removing that guilt from Pip's shoulders."
Merry turned to him, his eyes bright.
Boromir reached out, resting a hand on his arm. "But if you think the cause of Gandalf's death was as simple as a few stones in the water, then you also have to blame Pip for the noise in Balin's tomb. Another random circumstance that led to things no one could have foreseen."
Merry frowned.
"Of course, if that truly is the case, you must also place blame on Gandalf himself. If he had not lingered us so long outside the gate, you would not have grown restless and picked up those stones. And blame Aragorn, who seemed to know there was something wrong in the water, but said nothing until it was too late. And Frodo, who chose the path."
Merry's jaw tightened and he looked away, back towards the water.
Boromir followed his gaze, watching the flow and churn of the currents. "The words you've been speaking to Pip haven't been wrong. Placing blame and assigning guilt is pointless. In this case, Gandalf being who he was, it might even be foolish. To think that a man like him could be taken down as result of some accident? It's folly. For Pip or for you. Or for me, since I'm the type who could find guilt for myself somewhere if I thought on it hard enough. Maybe I didn't try hard enough to convince them to go to Gondor, to Minis Tirith."
Merry frowned, turning back to him.
Boromir shrugged. "You see? It's a loop of endless thinking that gets us nowhere. I know that through years of experience. I also know," he added, squeezing Merry's arm gently, "that knowing guilt is pointless doesn't make guilt go away. Dismissing it as accident doesn't make a person feel better. I know that, too. I wouldn't try to take that away from you, Merry, though I would like to see the sadness leave you." He smiled again slowly. "It looks unnatural on you. On Pip, as well. Guilt sits wrong on the shoulders of hobbits."
Merry returned the smile, but it seemed brittle. "I'm sure it will pass as quick as it did for Pip. We do feel things, though we dislike showing them."
Boromir met his eyes. "Strange. Pippin was rather open about showing his own feelings. Your Frodo and Sam, they don't seem like they keep much hidden."
Merry studied him.
Boromir squeezed his arm again firmly. "Maybe you're too quick to credit your behavior to hobbit nature. You shouldn't be - I fully understand how you feel. Better than you would know."
"You do?" Merry's voice was soft, masking any doubt that might have been apparent otherwise.
Boromir nodded, lowering his voice. "I am a captain of men in a losing army, Merry. I can't remember a time when I wasn't hiding away my own feelings to spare others from them. I am so used to helping other men, and getting no help in return, that it has become reflex for me."
Merry regarded him sadly. "And what do you hide from us, Boromir?"
"I could ask you that same thing."
There was silence for a moment. The world around them was growing steadily darker. The barest hints of light reflected from Merry's eyes, off Merry's face. Close to Boromir now, thanks to the help of a well-placed rock. Close and searching.
Boromir would have, in those moments, done anything at all he could have thought up to make the look on Merry's face change, to bring a smile back.
Unfortunately, he could think of nothing. His thoughts were confused and strange, and any instincts he had were muddied up by feelings he couldn't quite interpret.
He wondered. The secrets buried in his own closet were easy enough for someone to guess if they knew his life. But Merry? What was there in this young hobbit's mind to make him understand so well the way Boromir was? This young member of such a happy and carefree race of beings. What did he hide with his smiles?
If Merry were anything like Boromir, he wouldn't answer if asked. Not if his hurts went deep.
Still. Boromir wanted to know. He felt that it was important, vital, to know. If only for the sake of this young hobbit who wanted and tried so hard to be happy, and kept falling into shadows and frowns.
He resolved to speak to Pip alone one of these days.
He was content to travel like this - cutting easily through the river, with Merry in front of him and Pippin behind. The going was easy, almost pleasant. Despite his misgivings about the path ahead, and the time approaching when he would have to choose once and for all his country or this quest, his spirit was almost light.
They camped at night along the river, and found no sign of enemy or danger from any direction.
The first night they stopped late, and camped close to the water. As Gimli and Aragorn set up the fire, and Legolas walked the trees to scout any sign of trouble, Boromir went to the boats to grab packs of food, and watch his hobbits bide time by the water.
"I almost like this place," Merry announced as he crouched on a rock overlooking the water. "It reminds me of fall nights in Buckland."
Pippin was smiling again. His irrepressible spirits had risen before they left Lothlorien, and though he had dark moments of remembering Moria, he recovered his smiles fast. "Of sneaking down the water's edge to make sure we didn't leave footprints. Some bit of stolen crops or laundry or some other mischief in our hands."
Boromir grabbed the food he had been sent for and smiled at the two hobbits before setting back out for the camp site.
He lay the packs down, nodding at Aragorn. "The little ones seem to be enjoying the water. Should I stay with them, for safety?"
Aragorn regarded him, then glanced to his side. Frodo and Sam sat, both pressing into the fire.
"The other little ones." Boromir was instantly stiff. He didn't have to have it any more clearly stated that Aragorn did not trust him with Frodo.
Frodo looked up at him and smiled. "Not this one, that's for sure. I've been staring at water enough to make me almost want to go thirsty to avoid it."
"Same for me, and no mistake." Sam leaned in towards the fire, his brow knit in its almost constant furrow. "Let them enjoy as much as they want. I'll be right here by the warm fire."
Boromir smiled to himself faintly. There were small similarities between these two and the two he had come to call friends. But not many. He decided not to wait for Aragorn's approval. "I'll keep my eye on them. We're within calling range." He met Aragorn's eyes for a moment and turned away from the fire.
Merry was standing on his rock perch when he came into view again. He held a rock or nut or something equally small, and was tossing it into the air and catching it as he looked out at the water.
"-to know what we were up to that day. You can bet she asked Rosie all about it." Pippin sat on the edge of one of the boats, chatting merrily, if quietly.
Merry turned a smile to him. "And, of course, since we are both standing here alive and well, we were right to give her those mushrooms. It served well to keep her mouth shut about what she saw."
Boromir felt the tension caused by Aragorn draining from him again, and he approached the pair quietly.
Funny how they struck him at times. They could be just another face, another friend, another member of the company to him at one moment, and then.
Then, with no visible change, he found himself looking on them in what could be called adoration. Their bright eyes, their smiles, their voices, stories, mannerisms. At times they struck him as being absolutely precious, and he felt glad to be in their trust more than the others of the company.
He wanted them safe. He wanted to take care of them, as Merry had guessed well enough. Almost as if they were children, but not in the same way at all. He didn't think of them as children, not anymore. He wasn't sure exactly what he thought of them. The closest description he could think of was listening to Legolas talk about his woodland home, or watching Gimli guard over his gift from the lady Galadriel. They were to be protected, because - and this was entirely possible - they were the most pure things he had ever come to know.
He looked at Merry, standing on his rock, almost glowing in the last few glints of sunlight through the trees. Smiling without the care that seemed at times to be overtaking him.
And young Pip, laughing and carefree. Though Pip wasn't as deep in Boromir's heart as Merry. Not when Boromir had come to identify some of himself in Merry, and to grow that much more fond of him because of those similarities. Still, Pip was inside him much deeper than most ever got. Much more than the others sitting back at the fire.
He cleared his throat after a moment. "Your Mr. Gamgee seems to think the two of you are a little cracked for wanting to look on the river any longer than necessary."
Pip laughed in his high voice. "Sam hardly needs a reason to think we're cracked. He has for years now."
Merry grinned at Boromir. "There's quite an interesting story behind that, though. Did Pip tell you yet about our first real meeting with Master Samwise?"
Pippin started laughing instantly.
Boromir moved into the open, smiling. "I don't believe so."
Merry tossed his rock one last time, then, with a flick of his wrist, he sent it skipping over the river to get lost in the current.
Pippin started on the story with relish. "Well. We had seen old Sam around, of course, him being the son of Bilbo's gardener, and Frodo being our relation and friend and all. But we had never had cause to really have words with him. That is, until.when was it, Merry? Which of Frodo's birthdays?"
There was no answer.
Pip waved the question away. "It doesn't matter. Frodo wasn't of age yet, and Merry and I were just lads. Sam.I believe Sam is only slightly older than Merry, though to know him you'd believe he was the oldest hobbit here."
Boromir's eyes went to Merry again as Pip talked.
His smile faded as he caught sight of the still form.
Merry had grown tense, so tense it showed all over him. His eyes were still on the water, and his hand was still half in the air, as if he had just thrown that stone from his hand a moment ago. It was perhaps just the dimming light, but all color seemed to be gone from his face. He looked suddenly horrified.
Boromir frowned, looking to the water. If something were there, he would have said something. But.
He thought, suddenly and instantly, that maybe he understood.
Pippin was going on merrily. "-and out comes Samwise Gamgee, red in the face and blasting out that someone was going to pay for the damage to the flowers. Little did he know that Merry had already rigged the door to the hole, and-"
"Pip." Boromir spoke softly.
Pip focused on him. "What?"
"Maybe we should continue this story by the fire. I don't like being out here now that the sun's set."
Pip lit up. "That's a great idea. The story is so much more fun to tell when Sam is right there listening." He shot to his feet. "Come on!"
"We'll catch up." Boromir waved him off with a smile and turned back to Merry.
Still the hobbit stood there, looking unaware that anything was going on around him.
Boromir approached the flat boulder Merry stood on, noting absently that perched up there Merry was almost as tall as Boromir himself.
He reached out with light fingers and touched Merry's arm, bringing it down slowly from its frozen pose. "Merry."
Merry blinked over at him. He swallowed.
Boromir nodded towards the river. "You can drop your guard, I think. There aren't any monsters waiting to come out and grab any of us."
Merry started, going even more pale. He turned to the water again. "I."
Boromir nodded. "This whole time, you've blamed yourself as much as Pip has, haven't you?"
Merry didn't answer.
"When I said you could be as grave as Frodo, I was right. You have held this guilt inside you and not even let on."
"Pip was."
"You blame yourself. Honestly?"
Merry shrugged, looking down at the hand that had thrown the rock. "If I hadn't thrown the rocks, that creature in the water wouldn't have awakened. We would have left Moria and found some other path to take."
"Pip threw the stones too."
"No. I started it. He does as I do."
Boromir smiled. "I find more and more things the two of us share every day. You would take on guilt for Gandalf's death, yet you've spent hours in quiet conversation removing that guilt from Pip's shoulders."
Merry turned to him, his eyes bright.
Boromir reached out, resting a hand on his arm. "But if you think the cause of Gandalf's death was as simple as a few stones in the water, then you also have to blame Pip for the noise in Balin's tomb. Another random circumstance that led to things no one could have foreseen."
Merry frowned.
"Of course, if that truly is the case, you must also place blame on Gandalf himself. If he had not lingered us so long outside the gate, you would not have grown restless and picked up those stones. And blame Aragorn, who seemed to know there was something wrong in the water, but said nothing until it was too late. And Frodo, who chose the path."
Merry's jaw tightened and he looked away, back towards the water.
Boromir followed his gaze, watching the flow and churn of the currents. "The words you've been speaking to Pip haven't been wrong. Placing blame and assigning guilt is pointless. In this case, Gandalf being who he was, it might even be foolish. To think that a man like him could be taken down as result of some accident? It's folly. For Pip or for you. Or for me, since I'm the type who could find guilt for myself somewhere if I thought on it hard enough. Maybe I didn't try hard enough to convince them to go to Gondor, to Minis Tirith."
Merry frowned, turning back to him.
Boromir shrugged. "You see? It's a loop of endless thinking that gets us nowhere. I know that through years of experience. I also know," he added, squeezing Merry's arm gently, "that knowing guilt is pointless doesn't make guilt go away. Dismissing it as accident doesn't make a person feel better. I know that, too. I wouldn't try to take that away from you, Merry, though I would like to see the sadness leave you." He smiled again slowly. "It looks unnatural on you. On Pip, as well. Guilt sits wrong on the shoulders of hobbits."
Merry returned the smile, but it seemed brittle. "I'm sure it will pass as quick as it did for Pip. We do feel things, though we dislike showing them."
Boromir met his eyes. "Strange. Pippin was rather open about showing his own feelings. Your Frodo and Sam, they don't seem like they keep much hidden."
Merry studied him.
Boromir squeezed his arm again firmly. "Maybe you're too quick to credit your behavior to hobbit nature. You shouldn't be - I fully understand how you feel. Better than you would know."
"You do?" Merry's voice was soft, masking any doubt that might have been apparent otherwise.
Boromir nodded, lowering his voice. "I am a captain of men in a losing army, Merry. I can't remember a time when I wasn't hiding away my own feelings to spare others from them. I am so used to helping other men, and getting no help in return, that it has become reflex for me."
Merry regarded him sadly. "And what do you hide from us, Boromir?"
"I could ask you that same thing."
There was silence for a moment. The world around them was growing steadily darker. The barest hints of light reflected from Merry's eyes, off Merry's face. Close to Boromir now, thanks to the help of a well-placed rock. Close and searching.
Boromir would have, in those moments, done anything at all he could have thought up to make the look on Merry's face change, to bring a smile back.
Unfortunately, he could think of nothing. His thoughts were confused and strange, and any instincts he had were muddied up by feelings he couldn't quite interpret.
He wondered. The secrets buried in his own closet were easy enough for someone to guess if they knew his life. But Merry? What was there in this young hobbit's mind to make him understand so well the way Boromir was? This young member of such a happy and carefree race of beings. What did he hide with his smiles?
If Merry were anything like Boromir, he wouldn't answer if asked. Not if his hurts went deep.
Still. Boromir wanted to know. He felt that it was important, vital, to know. If only for the sake of this young hobbit who wanted and tried so hard to be happy, and kept falling into shadows and frowns.
He resolved to speak to Pip alone one of these days.
