*** Amon Hen - Flashback ahead! I took lines from the movie and from the book because I liked both versions. And this is the way I would have preferred it... I hope it's credible and you like it. ***
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"Can you walk?" Aragorn wanted to know and a second later silently cursed himself for having asked when he saw disgrace glimmer in the other man's eyes.
"I'm sorry..." the man from Gondor apologized and dropped his eyelids to hide the mental pain he felt from admitting that he was too weak to move without help.
"It is alright, Boromir. Do not worry," Aragorn said soothingly and raised his head to look how the others were doing. While Aragorn himself had shot the arrow through Boromir's torturer's throat, Ghorid and Atalar had brought death to the few other men, catching them off guard as they had been caught up in watching eagerly how their leader attempted to behead Gondor's future Steward. Legolas had helped at first, shooting twice and killing twice, but then had taken interest in Ralvan's motionless body to find out whether there was a chance of rescue. Now, Legolas stood tall again, his gaze locking with Aragorn's, and he sadly shook his head.
"I guess this is going to hurt," Aragorn said concerned while gently wrapping one of Boromir's arms around his neck.
"It cannot be worse than what I went through the recent days," Boromir whispered back and attempted to smile confidently at his friend.
"Ready?" Aragorn asked and when Boromir nodded he slowly rose on his feet, pulling the other man up with him. He felt Boromir's body tense and he saw him clenching his teeth heavily, fully concentrating on shutting out the pain that echoed through his muscles, veins and bones. Once in a standing position, Aragorn lay one arm around Boromir's waist to make sure he wouldn't slip away again.
"Let's get out of here, and quick," the darkhaired man gave the order to exit the dungeons again.
"Let me help," Ghorid suggested when he came closer, "I assume he is pretty heavy."
"Ghorid..." Boromir panted weakly but pleased and a tiny smile crossed his bruised face when he fully realized he was looking in his cousin's eyes.
"Yes, I'm here, Boromir," Ghorid said softly and grabbed Boromir's free arm to put it around his neck so Boromir's weak body was practically hanging between him and Aragorn, supported from both sides.
"Atalar, come," Legolas urged the younger man impatiently when he saw that he didn't make any attempts to follow the others to the direction of the exit.
"Give me a second," Atalar whispered back and approached the dead body of the abductor's leader with careful and silent steps.
"Atalar! What are you doing?!" Legolas hissed worried and furrowed his brows in confusion. "We need to hurry!"
"We forgot something," he said, turning back to Legolas for a short moment. "Go on, I will catch up."
Legolas stood for a second, torn between the options of staying with Atalar and following Aragorn to the exit of the dungeon. A decision was made quickly when he heard a thud as if something, or rather somebody, had fallen to the ground, and then a sigh of heavy frustration from Aragorn. Legolas shot a last concerned look towards Atalar and then passed the door, leaving Atalar on his own.
He reached the others within seconds and was surprised to see that it was not Boromir who had collapsed to the ground, but his cousin Ghorid. The son of Denethor was still on his feet, more or less, hanging in Aragorn's embrace.
"I knew he would break down sooner or later, but why now?!" Aragorn hissed in a whisper.
Legolas didn't reply but squatted down to have a closer look at the sturdy warrior. Before he could say a word, he heard Atalar dashing out of the room he had left him in.
"Run!" Atalar's voice echoed through the long corridor while he slammed the door he had just come through behind his back.
"Don't make so much noise! Do you want them to know we are here?" Aragorn asked angrily, shoving Boromir from his left into his right arm carefully.
"They already know! And now move it!" Atalar replied while he approached them at high speed.
"Oh no..." Aragorn muttered when he heard the footsteps of about half a dozen men in the room they had just gotten out of. The exit was not that far away, but with two heavy men that needed to be carried it was just impossible to reach before their enemies would catch up.
"No, we'll stay and fight!" Aragorn decided and let Boromir slip to the ground quickly but carefully.
"We are only three!" Atalar replied as if he wanted to protest, but he drew his sword while he spoke.
"We don't have a choice," Aragorn sighed and rapidly prepared his bow. Legolas silently did the same, only that he drew two arrows at once.
"They will kill us," Atalar predicted gravely.
"You are underestimating us," Aragorn said while he focused on the door that led to the room they had found Boromir in. "We have dealt with worse."
"I hope so," Atalar remarked and tightened his grip around his weapon. "I hope so."
The door flew open with huge force and in less than a second the first wave of men lay dead on the ground, each one's head or throat pierced with an arrow. The following men shared the same fate and collapsed to the ground wounded fatally before they even had the chance to reach the small group that had come to rescue their friend. Aragorn shot Atalar a gaze that seemed to say 'See, I told you' and then turned back to Boromir again.
"Somehow I fear that there are more to follow," Aragorn said while he squatted down to Gondor's future Steward. When he lay Boromir over his shoulder and rose again he heard him moan in pain, but there was no other way to get him out of here the fast way. While Legolas supported Ghorid who was slowly coming back from his blackout, Atalar still clutched his sword with both hands, ready to switch from fleeing-mode to fighting-mode. He couldn't believe it when they finally reached the exit without further incidents and stumbled out into the daylight again. He stuck his sword back to the scabbard and ran ahead in order to unfasten the reins of their horses they had bound to branches, hidden behind thickets. When the others caught up Atalar swung himself into the saddle of his horse with a swift movement.
"I'm back in a second," he told the others and urged his horse back towards the entrance of the dungeons. Some distance further to the left, there was a poorly made shelter under which about fifteen horses were tied to something that looked like a piece of a fence. He assumed that they had more horses somewhere else, but to hinder them from using these was better than nothing. It was everything he could do for now. The horses got nervous immediately when he rode between them. This was exactly what he had hoped for, and after he cut the reins of the abductor's horses with forceful movements he did his best to scare the animals off to all possible directions.
"He's pretty smart," Aragorn stated with a faint smile when he saw the horses dashing off into the woods and away over the open fields.
"Did you ever doubt it?" Legolas only responded with a small grin while Aragorn shifted Boromir into a position he wouldn't fall of easily. As soon as Atalar was back again they raced off, grateful for every single inch they left between the dungeons and themselves. Everything could have gone well, but after not even an hour Ghorid was haunted by another sudden feeling of weakness and fell from his horse at full speed, crashing to the ground with a terrifying loud thud.
"Stop!" Aragorn yelled unnecessarily and reined his horse simultaneously with Legolas and Atalar. Before he got off his horse he heaved Boromir's limp body over to Atalar and then dismounted and rushed towards the warrior who lay on the forest ground and writhed with pain.
"Ghorid, are you alright?" Aragorn wanted to know and felt a bit stupid for asking because it was more than obvious that he wasn't alright at all. He was bleeding from his nose and his skin was of a white that rivaled the color of the clouds in the sky. But what scared Aragorn the most was the frothy saliva that started to slowly come from the corners of his mouth.
"Can you hear me?" he asked worried and clutched Ghorid's shivering shoulders. The warrior didn't respond but his gaze locked with Aragorn's, showing him that he understood.
"Ghorid, come. I will help you," Aragorn said and wanted to pull the man back on his feet, but the man from Gondor grabbed Aragorn's forearm frantically and pierced him with a begging glance.
"No!" he panted, obviously being in great pain. "No, Aragorn. I cannot."
"You can! You must!" Aragorn contradicted, squatted down and wrapped one of Ghorid's arms around his neck to pull him up more easily.
"There is no sense in that," Ghorid moaned and used his full weight to prevent Aragorn from lifting him up. "I will not last until we reach Gondor."
"It is only a few days. You will last, you are strong."
"No, the end is coming. I can feel it, Aragorn."
Aragorn let Ghorid down to the ground again as he wasn't any longer able to work against the impressive heaviness of the sturdy warrior and swapped a worried look with Legolas.
"Please," Ghorid suddenly said and forced his body into a kneeling position. He rose his head towards Aragorn, his eyes revealing nothing but pure desperation. "Do not leave me behind like this. The enemy will be here soon and I do not want to face them without being able to fight. Don't let them find me in this weak condition, I beg you. Don't let them soil my glory."
"You refuse to come with us, so what shall we do?" Aragorn asked although he already knew the shattering answer.
"Release me," Ghorid said in a low voice. He blinked hardly when he felt tears welling in his eyes. He would not allow himself to cry now, but it was difficult to control as the huge disappointment about his defeat was overwhelming him.
"No," Aragorn said and rose on his feet.
"I beg you!" Ghorid said and grabbed Aragorn's tunic, his voice louder now. "Do not let me fall into the hands of the enemy! Put an end to my worthless life!"
"Your life is not worthless!" Aragorn hissed, his voice thickening with a huge feeling of unease.
"It is! From now on I am nothing more than a burden you shall not have to carry on your faithful shoulders. I have grown weak. I no longer deserve my name and my title for I insulted my family and its empire with my poor failure. I know I do not deserve a last wish...," Ghorid said and choked hardly, "but please, let me die from your hand."
"I cannot do that. You are asking too much from me," Aragorn said while his mouth started to turn dry.
"Please...," the warrior begged in a low voice and ran the back of his hand over his mouth, wiping off some bloody froth.
"No, Ghorid. I will not cover my sword with the blood of a brave soldier of Gondor who has become such a dear friend to me."
"Very well," Ghorid replied, pulled one of his own swords and offered it to Aragorn with trembling hands. "Then take this one."
Aragorn hesitated and looked to Legolas for one more time. Then he sighed defeated, grabbed the hilt of Ghorid's sword and said: "Go ahead, Legolas and Lord Atalar. I will join you soon."
They left Ghorid and Aragorn alone without losing one more word. Aragorn squatted down again so he could look Ghorid who was kneeling on the dusty ground in the eyes. He held the sword of Boromir's cousin in one hand and put the other one on Ghorid's shoulder, squeezing tightly.
"Listen, Ghorid. You are one of the greatest warriors I have ever seen, you are truly loyal and noble. You did not fail, you helped a huge deal to rescue Boromir. In fact we would not have managed without you. Whole Gondor will be proud of you and cheer you for your courage once you ride through the gates of Minas Tirith."
"I thank you for your soothing words," Ghorid whispered exhaustedly, "but even if you speak the truth, I will not last long enough to pass the gates of Minas Tirith alive ever again."
"But..."
"Aragorn," Ghorid interrupted, "the enemy comes closer with every second that we talk. And Boromir is near to death. You need to hurry and bring him back to Gondor in time. His well-being is of more importance than mine."
"No, the life of every being is important. Yours as well as Boromir's."
"I am not the future Steward of Gondor."
"That does not matter. Still you deserve equal treatment. I want to rescue your life as much as I want to rescue the one of the future Steward."
Their gazes met and they looked at each other for some seconds until Ghorid raised his voice again.
"Do not feel guilty about leaving me behind, Aragorn. Your heart shall not suffer from this. Believe me, you do no wrong. On the contrary, I am grateful and honored to die from your fair hand. What I ask from you is not called killing, my friend, but releasing."
Aragorn opened his mouth to say something, but Ghorid interrupted him again.
"Now do not hesitate any longer for you are in great danger if you stay with me. You heard what I wished for. Please, release me," Ghorid stated with a cracking but yet determined voice and bowed down his head, revealing the weak and vulnerable skin of the backside of his neck to Aragorn.
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Many hours later, when they were sure that they didn't have to fear an attack of any pursuers, the small company stopped to have a rest and supply the horses with water. Aragorn slowly patted the neck of his horse while it drank and stared at the horizon absently. He didn't even notice that Legolas stepped up to him closely, his arm almost brushing the man's back.
"Don't torture yourself so, Aragorn," Legolas said softly after Aragorn had sighed downheartedly. The man's head snapped to the elf, but when Legolas tried to lock gazes with his friend, he turned his face away again to hide the shame in his eyes.
"Ghorid lives, Estel. You didn't kill him," Legolas spoke further. Aragorn shifted his gaze over his horse's back to Ghorid who slept peacefully, slightly curled up and his head resting on his hand.
"But I almost did it," Aragorn admitted in only a whisper. "For a second I hesitated."
"In the end you didn't. That is everything that counts."
Aragorn didn't reply but kept on staring to the horizon for a few more moments. Maybe Legolas was right, yet Aragorn couldn't help feeling miserable.
"Excuse me," he finally said to his friend, "I will go and have a look at Boromir."
"Do as you wish," Legolas murmured and watched with eyes full of concern how Aragorn walked over to Denethor's son who lay on the ground, wrapped in cloaks and blankets. Aragorn was surprised to find Boromir awake and sat down next to him, a faint smile on his face.
"You should take some sleep," he told Boromir and gently stroked a bulge out of the blanket over Boromir's flatly heaving chest.
"I can't sleep," Boromir replied exhaustedly and choked with a lot of effort.
"How come?"
"I'm afraid that if I wake up again this whole rescue was only a dream and I will be back at the cell in that blasted dungeon. And they will come and get me again. And again...and..."
"No, this is no dream," Aragorn assured his fellow. "We came and rescued you, and we will bring you back to your city. Do you want me to pinch you?"
A feeble smile crossed Boromir's bruised and beaten face. Then he turned serious again and gave a tiny sigh, raising his eyes to meet Aragorn's warm gaze.
"Aragorn, I..." Boromir started but then let his voice fade again.
"Yes?"
"I want to say so much but I cannot find appropriate words," Boromir explained weakly.
"What about Thank you?" Aragorn suggested with a soft smile.
"I fear a simple thank you won't be enough to express what I feel," Boromir responded and blinked slowly. "You saved my life twice. I owe you more than I could ever repay."
"No, Boromir, you don't owe me."
"Yes, I do. Please, if there is anything I can do for you, let me know and I will be more than happy to do it," Boromir whispered and then closed his eyes in pain when his breathing rasped out in a short, heavy cough. Aragorn watched with great concern, wrinkles of worry on his forehead. It was odd to see Boromir like that, so exhausted and weak. It seemed so wrong.
"There is only one thing I ask from you," Aragorn said silently after Boromir had calmed down again. "I want you to get well soon."
"I will try my best," Boromir responded with a faint smile and slowly opened his eyes again when he felt Aragorn's warm hand around the side of his neck.
"Do you remember what I told you at Amon Hen? Right after you got shot with the arrows?" Aragorn asked, his voice only a whisper and his thumb slowly stroking over Boromir's skin. Apart from Faramir, Aragorn had become the only male who ever had been so close to Boromir.
"Yes," Boromir whispered back and swallowed hard. "Never could I forget the words you told me."
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//
"The horn of Gondor!" Legolas said, frowning with anxiety.
"Boromir!" Aragorn cried out and started to run. He ran faster than he ever had in his life so far, twigs cracking underneath his feet, leaves twirling up from his heavy steps. Soon he felt his heart beating rapidly and almost up to his throat, and he slipped, tripped and almost fell more than once, but something kept him going. The overwhelming fear of losing a comrade so dear to Saruman's army seemed to give him a boost of energy and strength, but it also sent a stinging pain through his heart and guts.
When he arrived at the clearing, he was relieved to find Boromir still on his feet, fighting. Before Aragorn's eyes caught the two arrows that had penetrated his comrades body, he heard the sound Of a bow being drawn and his head snapped to that direction. He discovered one of the ugly beasts aiming at Boromir's body and before his mind fully analyzed the situation, his body took action and leaped at the enemy who attempted to kill one of the fellowship. He managed to prevent the uruk-hai from shooting the third arrow at Boromir and started to fight a desperate battle, knowing that this could possibly be his last. It seemed like an eternity to him, and his opponent seemed to be invulnerable. When he felt his strength fading, his muscles and lungs aching, he summoned up all his might and with one forceful blow chopped the beast's head of it's massive shoulders. It was over.
For a few moments he stood, panting heavily from the strains of the fight, but when his eyes caught the collapsed Boromir his breathing ceased for a split second and he had the feeling his heart stopped beating.
"No..." Aragorn whispered almost inaudibly while he started moving again. He passed dozens of slain orcs until he finally reached his fellow who lay on the forest ground, most of the upper part of his body leaned against the big roots of a huge tree. Aragorn sank down on his knees next to Boromir, his eyes revealing that he refused to believe he came too late. He parted his lips to say something, but Boromir spoke first.
"They took the little ones," he told Aragorn with a lot of effort.
"Be still," Aragorn ordered softly. But Boromir spoke further, his voice slightly trembling with pain.
"Frodo... Where is Frodo?" he wanted to know.
"I let Frodo go."
"Then you did what I could not," Boromir said, his voice thick with guilt, and grabbed Aragorn's shoulder with a weak hand. "I tried to take the ring from him."
"The ring is beyond our reach now," Aragorn replied soothingly, feeling Boromir's gloved fingers rumpling the ends of his hair with feeble and desperate motions.
"Forgive me, I did not see. I have failed you all," Boromir stated exhaustedly and brought his hand from Aragorn's hair back to his shoulder, once more clutching to the clothes of the elder man.
"No, Boromir," the Ranger denied in a low voice, "You fought bravely. You have kept your honor."
Aragorn moved his gaze from Boromir's pale face, deeper down to his injured abdomen. He lifted a hand to the black arrow that stuck in the other man's shoulder, but Boromir quickly raised his own hand and captured Aragorn's wrist.
"Leave it!" he panted and blinked heavily. "It is over..."
Aragorn brought his free hand up to Boromir's face and carefully cupped his cold, rough cheek while Boromir continued to speak, his voice full of sorrow and despair.
"The world of men will fall, and all will come to darkness. And my city to ruin."
Aragorn shook his head faintly, capturing Boromir's head between both hands now.
"No, it is not over," he said, trying to give hope to Boromir. But the injured man seemed to have given up already.
"Farewell, Aragorn," he whispered. "Go to Minas Tirith and safe my people. I have failed."
"No!" Aragorn protested once again, took Boromir's hand in his and bent down to press a brotherly kiss to his comrade's forehead, tasting the salty flavor of cool sweat against his lips. He didn't even notice that Legolas and Gimli had arrived and stood at some distance, witnessing the scene downheartedly. "No, Boromir, you conquered. Few have gained such victory."
"Thank you, Aragorn," Boromir whispered softly and showed a faint but grateful smile. "Leave me now and go after the little ones. Please go."
"I'm not going to leave without you," Aragorn replied. "You are strong. You will be fine again."
Boromir shook his head weakly and closed his eyes. He had accepted his fate and was ready to welcome death. But Aragorn was not as willing as Boromir to let it end like this.
"Boromir, please... What would your people say if I returned without their Steward?" he tried to lure Boromir away from his surrender. Another exhausted smile crossed Boromir's thin lips, but he didn't open his eyes when he responded.
"I'm not their Steward," he reminded Aragorn.
"But you will be, Boromir. You must. Gondor's people love you. They believe in you. They need you. Do you want to leave them alone?"
Slowly, Boromir blinked his eyes open again and the two men looked at one another for a few silent moments.
"They won't need me any longer, because you will be there from now on," Boromir finally whispered, his eyes expressing sorrow about leaving his people, but also great confidence he felt for Aragorn. "Promise me that you will be the best king Middle-Earth has ever seen and rule Gondor with both a strong hand and a fair heart."
When he saw the intense expression of skepticism in Aragorn's gray eyes revealing the dilemma that raged deep within the him, Boromir added: "You must stop doubting yourself, Aragorn. Stop doubting your leadership."
"And you must stop doubting your survival," Aragorn replied. "Listen now, Boromir. Nobody deserves to rule Gondor but you."
"But you are the heir to Isildur..."
"Yes. I am the heir to the throne of Gondor by birthright, that's true. But I don't deserve to assert this title. What did I do to have the right to claim your position? Who spent his whole life fighting for Gondor, making one sacrifice after another to keep his people safe? It was you, Boromir. Not me. I don't believe Gondor's people would want me to come and usurp your position, especially when you live."
"I won't live, and you are the best man to fill the gap I will leave behind. The people will grow to appreciate and love you."
"Don't do this to your people, Boromir. They need you. Gondor needs you."
When Boromir wanted to deny once more, Aragorn interrupted him quickly.
"No more discussions now, time is pushing."
"One more thing..." Boromir panted, feeling dizziness coming over himself slowly. "If I survive this journey..."
"There is no if, Boromir. You will survive."
"If I survive and become the Steward of Gondor, will I ever have the good fortune to see our king return to us?"
When Aragorn didn't respond, Boromir added: "It would be my honor and pleasure to crown you king of Gondor, Aragorn."
"Shhh, Boromir," Aragorn whispered, heavily moved by the other man's words, and softly squeezed the cold hand he held. "Be still now."
Then he raised his head and his gaze found the elf and the dwarf who were observing from discreet distance.
"Legolas! Gimli! Come here and help me, quick!" Aragorn said and then started to carefully pull the arrows from the human body. Boromir was lucky that no vital organs had been hit and lacerated, but still the wounds were deep and caused him a lot of pain. Also, he lost quite some blood and felt himself getting more and more tired and dizzy with every exhausting breath he drew in with lots of effort. His comrades had not even managed to undress Boromir's abdomen in order to expose the injuries when he slipped into unconsciousness.
Later, when he woke up again, his wounds were cleaned and bandaged. Due to the lack of equipment Aragorn and Legolas had been forced to improvise a bit, but their ministrations had proved successful. In fact better than they had hoped for. Aragorn's healing skills were proficient enough while Boromir was tough and vigorous, which made a good combination. They set out very soon again, continuing their journey. With Boromir.
//
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Boromir choked again and then shifted his gaze from Aragorn's gray eyes up to the blue sky. Aragorn watched him silently, not daring to interrupt the other man's thoughts. It was easy to tell that the Son of Gondor was far, far away, thinking or even dreaming about something Aragorn could only guess. Some minutes passed until Boromir suddenly drew in an abrupt intake of air and shifted his gaze back to Aragorn.
"Will you give Faramir a message from me? Please?" he asked in a broken whisper.
"What...no," Aragorn replied in slight confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"Faramir..." Boromir whispered, almost dreamily.
"You will reunite," Aragorn stated. "Your brother waits for you. It's only a few days, Boromir. You must hold out."
"Faramir," Boromir repeated as if he hadn't heard what Aragorn had just said. "You must tell him. Tell Faramir I love him."
"I'm sure he knows, Boromir," Aragorn assured the injured man soothingly.
"And tell him I want him to crown you," Boromir added in a shivering whisper so low that Aragorn almost didn't understand it. He wanted to respond, but he couldn't come up with something appropriate. In fact he was so touched by Boromir's words that he couldn't speak just now, anyway.
"I'm so cold," Boromir suddenly murmured and closed his eyes exhaustedly.
"Then I'll keep you warm," Aragorn exclaimed desperately and started to carefully rub Boromir's now weak arms that once had proudly swung a great sword and held a heavy shield.
"Does this feel better?" he wanted to know in a low voice, but there was no response.
"Boromir?" Aragorn asked concerned, his hands coming to a halt. When there still was no reaction he closed his hands around the man's shoulders and shook him gently.
"Boromir!" He felt tears building in his eyes but didn't allow them to fall. He wasn't going to cry and he wasn't going to watch him die. He had rescued his life once already, why shouldn't he be able to do it again? Nothing was lost yet. If they all pulled themselves together and hurried quickly...
"We're setting out!" the command burst out of Aragorn while he rose on his feet abruptly.
"But we just set up the camp and..."
"I said we're setting out!" Aragorn barked, silencing Atalar who had protested. "Boromir is dying and you are concerned that you won't get enough sleep! You can rest as long as you wish once we passed the gates of Minas Tirith!"
"I was only thinking that..."
"On now!" Aragorn interrupted the young man again. "We are only wasting precious time."
