Notes: Words enclosed in dashes indicate Boromir dreaming.
The icy well water chilled Boromir to the bone as he plunged into the depths. He tried to yell for help, but his voice was gone. Instead, he choked as water rushed into his nose, his mouth, and his lungs.
Boromir had been swimming a few rare instances before, but under much different circumstances. Never had the water seemed so cold, so cruel as it crawled across his body, attempting to pull him down deeper, where there was no light. The boy gasped and sputtered as he finally broke the surface. His frantic paddling kept his head above the water, though he began to tire quickly. At one point, he waved his hands around madly, searching along the black walls for some sort of handhold, for anything; yet he touched only smooth stones. A rope and bucket fell alongside him, and he grabbed on tightly. Unfortunately, it soon occurred to him that it came not from a helping hand far above; it was simply the rope he had used to lower himself into the well. He allowed it to slip from his hands, and he continued in his struggle.
It became increasingly difficult to stay afloat inside the well, as exhaustion began to creep into the boy's body. He had been shaking violently in the water, from both cold and terror, but now a strange sort of numbness began to fill his thoughts. Try as Boromir might, there was no energy left to paddle, nothing to keep the water from closing in around him. Once again, he sank into the depths, and water began to fill his lungs. He attempted to cry out, but no air reached him, and nothing could be said. A last thought flew through his fading mind; how Faramir had tried to keep him from entering the dismal well. Then, all things went to darkness.
********
Beregond seemed unable to react after his failed attempt to snatch Boromir's rope before it fell. He simply stared down into the depths below, vaguely registering the howls of Faramir as he vainly called out his brother's name. The older boy's feet were rooted to the spot.
Faramir was horrified when he saw the rope slipping away, as if he realized that, with it slipped away a hope for Boromir's rescue. He cried out his brother's name, sobbing. However, he was not doomed to Beregond's fate.
Suddenly, Faramir found himself able to think clearly again. Even at his young age, it occurred to him that sitting around crying was not helping his brother. Instead, he began to yell, and his words reverberated across the street. "Help! He fell into the well! Somebody help!"
These cries, like those of most young children, did not go unheeded. Almost immediately, a few people rushed over to where Faramir stood, after seeing the boy's distress. One woman attempted to pick him up, but he refused to be held, instead choosing to repeat his words. The woman spoke to him.
"Child, what is the matter? You are yelling about someone in the well?" she inquired quickly.
"He fell in!" Faramir insisted, pointing into the dark tunnel nearby.
"Who?"
"Boromir! Boromir fell!"
"Who is that?"
"My brother! He's my brother! The rope broke and he fell in!"
Faramir's yelling seemed to be attracting quite a crowd. He repeated what he had said before, and again pointed to the well. "You have to help him!"
Meanwhile, Beregond finally overcame his initial shock, and snapped to attention. "Boromir fell into the well!" he cried. "He can't get out! Somebody has to help him!"
The nearby people suddenly seemed to grasp that Faramir's story was not simply the result of some childish nightmares, and bolted into action. One ran found a new rope nearby, a strong one that would easily support his weight. He tied it to himself, as Beregond and Boromir had done not long before, and was lowered into the well by a few others. Slowly, slowly he descended, much to the dismay of Faramir. The woman who spoke to him was attempting to hold the squirming boy, and keep him away from the well's edge. He struggled to escape her grasp; then cried out, "Faster, faster, faster! Go faster!" There was no calming him.
It seemed an eternity later, though perhaps it was only a minute, when a loud shout emerged from the well, and those above ceased their lowering of the rope. Apparently, the man had reached the water level, or had at least seen something to warrant his stopping. The people standing near the well above all became silent. Beregond once again had a stricken look on his face, though a woman was making an effort to comfort him. Faramir halted his struggling, and strained his ears, desperately listening for a sound of any kind emitting from the dark hole.
Suddenly, another shout echoed up the passage of the well. The men grasping the rope worked swiftly, pulling their comrade back up, back into the light. A hand emerged, then a head, as the man was helped out of the well. Faramir wrenched himself from the woman's grip, and lunged forward, sobbing, as he spotted the limp bundle in the man's arms.
It was Boromir; yet, at the same time, it was not Boromir. His eyes were closed, and his bluish tinted faces gave him a ghastly look. He did not draw breath, even now that he had escaped the water's clutches. His skin was cold to the touch.
********
--------Boromir looked around, confused. He felt the darkness fade away around him, and suddenly found himself lying in a strange boat, drifting aimlessly along in the river. The boy was startled. Had he not been in a dark well only seconds before? Where did the sun come from, and what happened to the city? It was nowhere in sight. There was only the great river, surrounded by some sort of forest.
The breeze picked up slightly, and Boromir thought, for a moment, that he heard a voice. It was fairly deep, singing a song of words that he could not make out, though it sounded like a lament for some fallen hero. Then, there was another voice, a bit higher this time, the like of which he had never heard before.
Suddenly, a great roaring noise filled the boy's ears. Boromir leaned out of the unusual boat, and his eyes widened with fear. He was on the brink of a massive waterfall! Before he could react, he felt himself plunging into space, towards the angry roaring down below.------------
********
The man who had rescued Boromir carefully lowered the boy's body to the ground, tilting his head enough to allow some of the water to drain from his lungs. He then pressed his ear to the boy's chest, listening for any sign of a heartbeat. It was there, but oh! How slowly and faintly it beat! At any moment, it could suddenly stop, for lack of air.
A second person, a woman this time, knelt down beside the limp Boromir. She carefully placed her hands upon him, and, with a few quick strokes, expelled some more of the water from his lungs. Then, the man listened again, but still there was no breath.
The woman forced even more liquid from Boromir's lungs, but he did not breath. His heart grew ever fainter.
Suddenly, Faramir, who had stopped beside the well, leaped forward. Slipping past the hands that strove to hold him, he reached his brother. With a short sob, he threw himself upon Boromir, and hugged the brother whom he loved very dearly. The man who stood nearby was startled at the sudden approach of the young child, but soon ignored him, for something else had caught his attention. A small cough emerged from Boromir's mouth; then a few more. His eyes were still closed, his mind was still dead to the world around him, but his body managed to take a few ragged breaths.
The icy well water chilled Boromir to the bone as he plunged into the depths. He tried to yell for help, but his voice was gone. Instead, he choked as water rushed into his nose, his mouth, and his lungs.
Boromir had been swimming a few rare instances before, but under much different circumstances. Never had the water seemed so cold, so cruel as it crawled across his body, attempting to pull him down deeper, where there was no light. The boy gasped and sputtered as he finally broke the surface. His frantic paddling kept his head above the water, though he began to tire quickly. At one point, he waved his hands around madly, searching along the black walls for some sort of handhold, for anything; yet he touched only smooth stones. A rope and bucket fell alongside him, and he grabbed on tightly. Unfortunately, it soon occurred to him that it came not from a helping hand far above; it was simply the rope he had used to lower himself into the well. He allowed it to slip from his hands, and he continued in his struggle.
It became increasingly difficult to stay afloat inside the well, as exhaustion began to creep into the boy's body. He had been shaking violently in the water, from both cold and terror, but now a strange sort of numbness began to fill his thoughts. Try as Boromir might, there was no energy left to paddle, nothing to keep the water from closing in around him. Once again, he sank into the depths, and water began to fill his lungs. He attempted to cry out, but no air reached him, and nothing could be said. A last thought flew through his fading mind; how Faramir had tried to keep him from entering the dismal well. Then, all things went to darkness.
********
Beregond seemed unable to react after his failed attempt to snatch Boromir's rope before it fell. He simply stared down into the depths below, vaguely registering the howls of Faramir as he vainly called out his brother's name. The older boy's feet were rooted to the spot.
Faramir was horrified when he saw the rope slipping away, as if he realized that, with it slipped away a hope for Boromir's rescue. He cried out his brother's name, sobbing. However, he was not doomed to Beregond's fate.
Suddenly, Faramir found himself able to think clearly again. Even at his young age, it occurred to him that sitting around crying was not helping his brother. Instead, he began to yell, and his words reverberated across the street. "Help! He fell into the well! Somebody help!"
These cries, like those of most young children, did not go unheeded. Almost immediately, a few people rushed over to where Faramir stood, after seeing the boy's distress. One woman attempted to pick him up, but he refused to be held, instead choosing to repeat his words. The woman spoke to him.
"Child, what is the matter? You are yelling about someone in the well?" she inquired quickly.
"He fell in!" Faramir insisted, pointing into the dark tunnel nearby.
"Who?"
"Boromir! Boromir fell!"
"Who is that?"
"My brother! He's my brother! The rope broke and he fell in!"
Faramir's yelling seemed to be attracting quite a crowd. He repeated what he had said before, and again pointed to the well. "You have to help him!"
Meanwhile, Beregond finally overcame his initial shock, and snapped to attention. "Boromir fell into the well!" he cried. "He can't get out! Somebody has to help him!"
The nearby people suddenly seemed to grasp that Faramir's story was not simply the result of some childish nightmares, and bolted into action. One ran found a new rope nearby, a strong one that would easily support his weight. He tied it to himself, as Beregond and Boromir had done not long before, and was lowered into the well by a few others. Slowly, slowly he descended, much to the dismay of Faramir. The woman who spoke to him was attempting to hold the squirming boy, and keep him away from the well's edge. He struggled to escape her grasp; then cried out, "Faster, faster, faster! Go faster!" There was no calming him.
It seemed an eternity later, though perhaps it was only a minute, when a loud shout emerged from the well, and those above ceased their lowering of the rope. Apparently, the man had reached the water level, or had at least seen something to warrant his stopping. The people standing near the well above all became silent. Beregond once again had a stricken look on his face, though a woman was making an effort to comfort him. Faramir halted his struggling, and strained his ears, desperately listening for a sound of any kind emitting from the dark hole.
Suddenly, another shout echoed up the passage of the well. The men grasping the rope worked swiftly, pulling their comrade back up, back into the light. A hand emerged, then a head, as the man was helped out of the well. Faramir wrenched himself from the woman's grip, and lunged forward, sobbing, as he spotted the limp bundle in the man's arms.
It was Boromir; yet, at the same time, it was not Boromir. His eyes were closed, and his bluish tinted faces gave him a ghastly look. He did not draw breath, even now that he had escaped the water's clutches. His skin was cold to the touch.
********
--------Boromir looked around, confused. He felt the darkness fade away around him, and suddenly found himself lying in a strange boat, drifting aimlessly along in the river. The boy was startled. Had he not been in a dark well only seconds before? Where did the sun come from, and what happened to the city? It was nowhere in sight. There was only the great river, surrounded by some sort of forest.
The breeze picked up slightly, and Boromir thought, for a moment, that he heard a voice. It was fairly deep, singing a song of words that he could not make out, though it sounded like a lament for some fallen hero. Then, there was another voice, a bit higher this time, the like of which he had never heard before.
Suddenly, a great roaring noise filled the boy's ears. Boromir leaned out of the unusual boat, and his eyes widened with fear. He was on the brink of a massive waterfall! Before he could react, he felt himself plunging into space, towards the angry roaring down below.------------
********
The man who had rescued Boromir carefully lowered the boy's body to the ground, tilting his head enough to allow some of the water to drain from his lungs. He then pressed his ear to the boy's chest, listening for any sign of a heartbeat. It was there, but oh! How slowly and faintly it beat! At any moment, it could suddenly stop, for lack of air.
A second person, a woman this time, knelt down beside the limp Boromir. She carefully placed her hands upon him, and, with a few quick strokes, expelled some more of the water from his lungs. Then, the man listened again, but still there was no breath.
The woman forced even more liquid from Boromir's lungs, but he did not breath. His heart grew ever fainter.
Suddenly, Faramir, who had stopped beside the well, leaped forward. Slipping past the hands that strove to hold him, he reached his brother. With a short sob, he threw himself upon Boromir, and hugged the brother whom he loved very dearly. The man who stood nearby was startled at the sudden approach of the young child, but soon ignored him, for something else had caught his attention. A small cough emerged from Boromir's mouth; then a few more. His eyes were still closed, his mind was still dead to the world around him, but his body managed to take a few ragged breaths.
