Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, its characters and places are the property of the Tolkien estate. The authors of this piece are merely borrowing them and derive no financial benefit from the exercise.

Echoes of the White Horn Chapter 4: Along the Riverside

The rider reached the stream sooner than he had expected to. A gently sloping stretch of forest floor suddenly led him to a small grassy outcrop. The water flowed noisily below it. The current looked to be strong but the flow here was calmer than a little way upstream where flecks of foam arose from a set of rapids that had formed just beneath a low cascade that thundered down the valley. The wind whipped through his dark hair as he got off his steed and walked towards the edge curious and worried as to what might actually have occurred.

He looked at the area around him, patting his animal gently as it nibbled at some grass contentedly. He was standing over a relatively quieter expanse of water for the river had widened at this spot on its downhill course and the valley itself seemed to have obtained a gentler slope.

A flash of something dark caught the corner of his eye. He turned and looked upriver. It did not take long to find what had captured his attention. It lay where the rapids had leveled out, half-hidden by the overhanging branches of a tree. Something, or rather someone, lay half in and half out of the water.

He looked carefully again, shading his eyes with his hand trying to confirm whether it was indeed someone and not merely a piece of log. Then he patted his horse gently and led him to stand towards the edge of the forest unwilling to make him trot down the rocky incline and up again for what may be just a large tree trunk.

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The sight of the horn in his hands was enough to nearly send Faramir down the rocks and into the water. He regained his balance by sitting down heavily on a rock, ignoring the damp surface and the spray from the stream as it struck the boulders noisily. He placed his bow down and stared at the horn in a numbed silence.

The horn was a family heirloom from times long before - as long before as the days when kings had ruled in Gondor. It was wrought from the horn of the wild kine of the distant land of Rhun and had been passed down generation after generation to the eldest son of the House of Hurin. Like his father before him and his grandfather before his father, Boromir too carried it wherever he went. Faramir could still hear its ringing above the sound of the seas in Dol Amroth, when they had set off for their journey back to Minas Tirith.

"Where are you?" he whispered softly, taking in his surroundings with increasing dismay. The dark grey of the skies above reflected in the water in front of him, only added to his apprehensiveness. A storm seemed to be approaching and that boded more worry. The slight shiver that went through him was due to more than the cold draughts of air that struck his face.

He rose slowly, breathing heavily trying not to let the scrambled thoughts that assaulted his head form concrete words. He had to think clearly, he decided.

Boromir would be alright. He was after all, strong and a good swimmer. He had probably just not wished to expend his energy trying to fight such a strong current. The stream would have to level out somewhere. It would make more sense to swim for the shore when the flow slowed down. The horn must have just loosened itself.

Faramir tucked it carefully into his pack. Boromir would hate it if anything happened to the horn. If he hurried along the water, he would probably find Boromir somewhere on the riverbank - very wet, and in all likelihood, extremely annoyed with himself. He almost smiled as he thought of how Boromir would react to having fallen of a horse. It had not been his fault but he knew his brother well enough to know that that point would not bear consideration.

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It did not take long to reach the spot although the route was a little slippery. He maintained his balance carefully, having no desire to end up in the water himself. He doubted that the weather was conducive to swimming. The rocks gave way to a stretch of wet, soft mud overrun with bushes and small trees.

As he neared the spot, his doubts were confirmed. It was indeed a person. All he could make out was a clump of dark hair and a mass of wet clothes. But the mass did rise and fall sporadically although it stayed still otherwise. Whoever had fallen into the water seemed to have survived, but uninjured or not he could not tell yet. He did however seem unable to move. Pushing his way through the foliage, he reached the seemingly half-drowned figure that lay upon the soft ground.

He walked swiftly over and turning the figure over, found himself beholding a fairly young countenance. He examined the unconscious figure carefully and decided that what water he might have swallowed had already been coughed out. The clothes were still wet enough to indicate that this was probably the same person he had heard falling into the river earlier.  He wondered whether he had fallen in or been pushed in. But there was still the second person he had heard, the one who had seemed to be searching for this young man.

"But is he your friend or foe?" he wondered aloud as he brushed the damp locks of hair that had matted over the features.

He cocked his head to one side as he cleared the hair away. The wan face he was looking into seemed faintly familiar. He felt he had seen the man somewhere earlier or perhaps he bore resemblance to some long-forgotten acquaintance from his past. He decided it might very well be the latter for he doubted if he had ever seen him before. He was sure he would have remembered him if he had.

A cursory examination did however reveal the reason for his unconsciousness. A purplish hue spread across the left temple stood out clearly even under the dark hair. He had obviously struck his head in the water. He seemed to have few other injuries save for some small cuts and scratches wherever he seemed to have scraped himself. The horseman pulled him clear off the water and half-carried him onto a relatively drier spot under the shade of a scrawny little tree. He stood up, stretched himself, glanced at the still darkening sky and removing his cloak and covered the man from the river with it, to protect him from the stiff northerly breeze. Then he knelt down by his side to examine the bruise to the forehead, carefully.

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Faramir slung the bow over his shoulder and slid carefully down to where the ponies still waited patiently. Thankfully the lightning and thunder seemed to have abated. He would atleast not have to handle a nervous animal in such a case. The ponies quietly followed him over the rocks and around the curve of the stream, coming to a sudden stop when he did, at a place where the water tumbled a few feet into a pool of foam.

It was a waterfall. A tiny one, but a waterfall nevertheless and his brother had probably been dragged down it and into the furious rapids that he could see were raging below.

"Boromir!" he whispered dismayed and then proceeded to shout for his brother at the top of his lungs. His features creased into an expression of exasperation when he realised that his voice could not possibly rise above the noise the water made as it thundered downwards.

He tried to push back the increasing worry that was filling his heart and began the rocky descent along the rocks the water poured over. The spray drenched him to the skin but he ignored it, focusing his attention on keeping his foothold and ensuring that the animals followed him safely. The descent was rapid and he never knew how it was that he managed not to fall straight into the rapids himself. They made it down safely and Faramir carefully began exploring every inch of the water's edge in search of his brother. He even shaded his eyes and looked over the other bank.

Faramir watched the way the cataracts swirled with increasing dismay. Boromir was certainly an excellent swimmer but the waters they were used to swimming in were the stagnant ponds and pools in the city or the sluggish expanse of the Anduin along the Pelennor. There was no sign of him here and he found that as he trudged along, all the unspoken thoughts that he had earlier pushed to the back of his mind came to the fore now. What if Boromir was so badly injured by the fall that he could not swim? That might explain why he had not answered Faramir's calls. He knew there were worse options but they were ones he would not think about until he had seen proof of them.

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The man finally rocked back on his heels, having checked all the injuries for their seriousness. The only major one seemed to be the one to the temple, for the young man was still unconscious and the rider's efforts to awaken him had been completely futile so far.

The face still struck an unresponsive chord. There was, the rider felt, some likeness to someone he must have known from earlier. It was obvious the boy was from Gondor and even his wet clothes indicated as such. And the rider had once known many a man of Gondor. The clothes appeared to be those of everyday wear; not very different from what he knew the rangers of the south wore. The scabbard that surprisingly still hung to his belt as well his build, he decided, showed him to certainly be a soldier. And from what he had seen of the marks on his palms, it seemed fairly certain that the sword had seen much use.

After examining the injury once again, the horseman finally rose.

"I need my pack," he muttered, "And my horse, to help carry you to safer ground." It felt a little foolish to speak to one who could probably not hear him but he did so nevertheless. He gave his surroundings another wary look, still uncertain about leaving the soldier alone but seeing no other choice.

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The rapids finally gave way to a calmer stretch of water as the river basin suddenly widened, and that in turn served to allay Faramir's fears greatly. This looked more like the Anduin to him. A little swifter, yes, but he knew Boromir could handle water like this.

The precipitous cliff had given way to a gentler slope rising above the grassy bank. Small trees and shrubs scrub grew all along the way in little clusters, the wind rustling nosily through their leaves.

"We will find him," he quietly whispered to his pony as she nudged his shoulder gently, "He cannot be far now. He is probably just resting for a while. He must be tired."

The animal grunted softly in response.

Faramir cupped his hands and called out for Boromir once again. This time his voice floated loud and clear carried away from the river by the strong wind blowing through the valley. It hit the thickly forested mountains on either side and resonated long and manifold, almost making Faramir wince with its loudness. The ponies neighed and cocked their heads towards him while he waited. A flock of roosting birds flew angrily out of a cluster of trees above him.

Desperate for an answer, he shouted again, his eyes roving the flowing water searching for any sign of his brother's presence.

When the echoes finally died away, it was as though a complete silence had descended over the valley. Not even a leaf seemed to rustle.

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The rider reached for the pack tied to his saddle. He never traveled without basic herbs and other material needed for healing common injuries. Injuries were fairly common in his line of work. He was in a hurry to reach his destination but he could not possibly leave someone like that, alone and defenceless and possibly in danger. There was still the second man to be accounted for. It had seemed to him earlier that a note of concern underlay the voice he had heard. But he needed to be sure.

Once the young soldier had been tended to, he could always hasten his own pace and still reach the friend who awaited him, at their pre-appointed time.

He was about to make his way back to the place where he'd left the boy when he heard the shout. It was loud and long, enough to unnerve his mount causing him to reach out and calm him. He stood up straight and tried to make out the direction the voice floated in from. The resonance distracted him and made it difficult to place the direction, but when a second shout came as soon as the first one died out, he had a fair idea of where the second man stood.

It was clearly not very far from where he had left an unconscious and injured man, one unable to defend himself.

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All Faramir could hear was the blood rushing in his ears. It drowned out the sound of the water, the rumble of the waterfall nearby, the swirling of the cataract, the howling of the icy wind that swept in from the north or even the whinny of a pony right next to his ear. He stared unseeingly along the riverbank taking in the way the branches of the trees on the edge hung like a curtain over the water making it reflect a soothing shade of green.

He never heard the approaching footsteps until it was too late. But it was not entirely his fault. The man who approached him did so with the skill of a ranger, silently and rapidly attacking him from behind, causing a flurry of sounds from the ponies.

By the time Faramir pulled himself out of his distracted state of mind and realised that someone was creeping up on him, his arms had been yanked roughly behind and the cold metallic steel of a blade placed against his throat.

To be continued...

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Sorry for the delay once again, but our work lives have been a little too demanding.

The Oboist's Apprentice – Thanks for reviewing! The ponies came into the picture because they're more suited to mountainous terrain.

Shlee Verde – Thank you, that's very kind of you!

Gypsie Rose – Sorry to take such an age to update. Bosses can be real balrogs at times - wingless ones of course! It won't stretch very long, don't worry. It's a pretty short story. You must try guessing;-) Would love to hear what you think!

IceAngel – glad it helped you! The ages came about from the year it's set in. It's a focal point.

Osheen Nevoy – You do have lovely timing;-) Thanks for such nice words and for pointing out that sentence. You were right about it. It's sorted out now! Glad you liked Faramir's portrayal. It means a lot. And the piece about the horn too. It got a bit of research for another vignette so it got thrown into this story too;-)