Good. I'm still alive. He! He! Thanks, guys, for the death threats…I mean, nice reviews!
So, let's continue.
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They found Boromir after walking hundreds yards ahead, lying unmoving among the corpses of the fallen orcs and Uruk Hais. He was dying.
Aragorn hastily knelt down beside the man from Gondor. He looked with sorrow at the enemy's arrows that were imbedded in Boromir's muscular body. Blood was coming out profusely out of Boromir's mouth and his wounds. His breath was coming in short gasps, his eyes glazed with unbearable pain.
"Oh, Boromir…" The ranger gripped one of the other man's hands, knowing that Boromir had no much time left.
"They took...M…Merry…and…and Pippin…" Boromir spoke brokenly. "I couldn't…s…stop them…I'm sorry…"
"Hush, Boromir. No need to apologize. You've done all you can," Aragorn soothed him, tears swimming in his eyes. Like Legolas and Gimli, he was greatly alarmed to know that the Uruk Hais had captured the two little hobbits. But what of Frodo and Sam?
Boromir glanced meaningfully at Legolas. "I'm still…one of…the fellowship?"
The elf also knelt down beside the man. He pushed aside the horror that he had felt at the cruel hands of men many, many years ago that still assailed him in tenfold, and gave solace to this man that had undoubtedly fought bravely to save the two little hobbits. Placing his palm on the dying man's forehead, he whispered, "Indeed you still are, Boromir."
Boromir then looked at the dwarf. "You need to find… a new partner…to quarrel…Gimli."
Gimli didn't answer. He couldn't. His throat felt too tight.
Turning back to Aragorn, Boromir said his last words. "May you succeed…my king…"
Then he was gone.
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They watched silently as the boat carrying Boromir's body disappeared from sight into the great waterfall of the River Anduin.
Legolas had just finished singing a lament to the man of Gondor. His heart bled knowing that this was the second time he sang a mourning song for a fellowship member. First Gandalf, and now Boromir.
They had returned from the gory scene of the battlefield to the bank of the river, carrying Boromir's dead body between them. Aragorn had been crying mute tears, totally devastated of the death of a fellow kinsman. Gimli had never spoken. He too was so distressed of the current affair that he did not feel like talking at all.
And Legolas, well, he felt as if he had been hit by tons of bricks. Everything was falling apart around him. The three of them were grieving, while the hobbits were missing. Obviously, the fellowship was breaking.
When they reached the riverbank just now, they found out that one of the boats was gone. There were also some hobbits' tracks leading into the river. Somehow, Frodo and Sam had managed to escape the enemy and continued on to cross to the eastern shore by themselves.
The Ring was in safe hands then. For now.
Legolas turned to his friends. "Estel?"
The ranger looked up, as did Gimli. Aragorn knew without being told that they needed to move on. The elf was staring back at him, trusting him to decide what to do next. Taking a deep breath, Aragorn then spoke, "We will rescue Merry and Pippin."
Gimli looked back and forth between them. "What about Frodo and Sam?"
"Their fate is no longer in hour hands," Aragorn replied, glancing one more time across the wide river. "Let's pray for their success and safe journey. Right now, Merry and Pippin need us more. We can not abandon them."
After gathering their weapons and packs, Aragorn said softly, "Come, my friends. Let's hunt some orcs!"
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As they chased after the tracks of their fleeing enemy, Legolas couldn't help but remember the long runs he used to enjoy with his elder brother before Keldarion departed for the Undying Lands over the sea.
His heart pained a little, missing his brother so badly after almost two years of separation. How Legolas wished that Keldarion were right there with them as one of the fellowship, helping to defeat the dark force with his admirable wisdom and superb skill of swords play.
But Keldarion was not with them now. He was thousands of leagues away in Valinor. Legolas only had Aragorn and Gimli running at each side of him; his only companions in this vast land they called Rohan.
They had been running non-stop for days, pausing for not more than a few minutes to drink or fill their water skin. Legolas' abdomen wound had slowly healed and it didn't bother him further. Gimli managed to keep up with the other two despite his shorter legs and stout body. He and Aragorn began to get exhausted but they refused to stop lest they lost trace of Merry and Pippin. Unbelievably, the enemy was moving faster than ever, as if a kind of foreign power was giving them speed.
It was on the fourth day when Legolas heard the sound of approaching riders. He signaled to his companions and they took cover behind some large rocks.
The thunderous sound of galloping hoofs came closer. The three watched apprehensively as a large battalion of human riders on swift steeds finally appeared and rushed pass their hiding place. From their attire and the look of their magnificent horses, they could tell that those men were Rohirrims; the Riders of Rohan.
Aragorn straightened up and walked out from behind the rock before the other two could say anything. The ranger shouted a greeting, catching the riders' attention. They all turned instantly with astonishing speed and skill and came charging back around towards the three companions.
Legolas' face was calm, betraying the turmoil feelings deep in his heart. He did not trust men. Men scared him enough to make him sweat in panic. Still, here they were, in the number of hundreds, surrounding the three friends and pointing sharp pointed spears at their heads.
"Aragorn…" Gimli growled deeply.
The ranger put a warm hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "Keep your cool," he whispered.
Then one of the riders rode forward. He was tall and, like his fellow kinsmen, had long flaxen hair. He advanced until the point of his spear was touching Aragorn's left breast. Seeing that, Legolas made a move forward but the ranger put a restraining arm in front of the elf.
"Who are you, pray tell, and what business brought the three of you to this land?" asked the rider.
"I'm called Strider," Aragorn replied, using one of his many pseudonyms. "This is Gimli son of Gloin, and Legolas of the Woodland Realm. We are hunting some orcs."
The rider retracted the spear and gave it to one of his comrades before he dismounted. He stood face to face with Aragorn, sizing him up and down. Then he turned to stare at the dwarf and the elf.
Legolas restrained himself from squirming with discomfort when the man's gaze lingered on him a bit longer. There was awe as well as suspicion in the man's bright blue eyes.
The men had been looking at him almost the same way before they destroyed him years ago.
As if knowing Legolas' unease, Gimli suddenly spoke, "Don't you even have the courtesy to give us your name, horse master? Or shall we just call you that."
Aragorn rolled his eyes. Great. Here we go.
The rider turned to glare at the dwarf. "Such a wicked tongue you have, dwarf. If you would stood a little higher from the ground, I might be able to reach down and cut it out of you!"
Faster than the eyes could follow, Legolas nocked an arrow to his bow and aimed it square at the rider's face. "Do it and you die!"
TBC…