Sorry, very busy. I will thank the reviewers in next chapter. College is
a lot of work and craziness...
____________________
Beneath the raging surface of the Anduin, time seemed to stand still. The river was swift moving and treacherous, yet the roaring sounds above were distorted by the dark water. Movement was difficult, if not impossible, for the river dictated all. Those who attempted to move against the water soon learned that it was like trying to hold back the ocean tide.
In the midst of the river, a few feet below the surface, Faramir felt the panic rising through his body. He was being tumbled over and over again, swept onward by the currents that had been so effective at propelling the small boats. Even a powerful swimmer, unhampered by any rope would have thought twice before attempting a swim in this portion of the river.
Unfortunately, Faramir found it hopeless. The rope that might appear inviting when thrown to a drowning person was now the bane of the younger brother. He struggled to free himself, though in his mind he knew that the tugging, paired with the water, was only making his bonds tighter. Faramir caught a glimpse of the surface as his lungs began to ache for air.
Soon however, it became apparent that oxygen was not the only hardship the river had to throw at the boy. As Faramir himself had stated, the waters were swift moving due to melting snow. However, this also caused a tremendous drop in the temperature, creating a frigid death trap for those who were careless enough to get caught within.
Eventually, Faramir's struggles became fewer and far between. He could still see the surface, and an escape to air and warmth, but the water was not about to give him up. With cold numbing his senses, Faramir began slipping away.
********
Even the roar of the river on the surface could not drown out the cries of the shaking people as they yelled into the water.
"Faramir!" The voices of Beregond and Anborn shouted in unison, trying in vain to pierce the swirling water for any trace of their friend. For a split second, the older boy seemed ready to dive into the water after him, but he realized that such a move could very well be suicide. Beregond chose to snatch the one paddle that remained to them, and steered the boat away from as many rocks as possible. Anborn half-heatedly bailed the water out of the boat; he was still mainly focused on the river below.
Boromir's mind was a numb as Faramir's, though he did not share his brother's fate in the icy waters below. He vaguely saw his two other companions in the boat, but their actions did not fully register in his mind. His eyes were fixed on his hands; those hands that had failed to snatch his younger brother from the unforgiving river below.
"Faramir!" Boromir tried to yell into the water, to make his voice audible like those of Anborn and Beregond, but his attempts resulted only in whispers. He moved his gaze from his own hands down to the river, as if his very will might bring Faramir back up to the surface.
His eyes failed to spot anything but the blue-gray rush of water that continued roaring past.
An eternity seemed to pass, or was it only mere seconds? Boromir no longer had any sense of time. He knew only the fear pressing against his mind and heart, a terror that his only brother might forever be lost in the midst of the Anduin.
Suddenly, a new noise broke into Boromir's thoughts, shattering them like a bolt of lightening that streaks across the midnight sky. Beregond was yelling at the top of his voice, pointing desperately to a rock in the middle of the river.
"Look! Over there! Not far from the right shore!"
A small figure was clinging to a boulder in the midst of the swirling waters.
********
Escape had appeared so suddenly to Faramir that he had difficulty comprehending it. Only seconds before, he was a victim of the frigid river; then suddenly, almost miraculously, he had crashed into a rock in the river.
It certainly wasn't a comfortable escape from the deadly water, for it left many cuts and bruises along his body, but to Faramir, it represented a small beacon of hope. He managed to grab onto a portion of the rock, just small enough to be a useful handhold.
Then, the raging river unwittingly aided the struggling boy. Where once the current had tossed Faramir about, giving him no chance to catch breath of air, it now propelled him upward and sideways as it attempted to thwart the boulder in its path. It was still very difficult, clinging to the rock, but he had been given a chance.
A small chance, yes; yet perhaps there was hope that he might be seen.
Indeed, though previous events might suggest otherwise, fate was smiling down upon Faramir this day. He was downriver from the remaining boat, because it had become momentarily caught on a tree. Now, as he shivered in the water, Faramir caught a glimpse of the others, currently upriver of him, but moving rapidly.
Despite the effect the freezing water was beginning to have on his mind, some deep instinct told him not to try waving at the others, for then he would surely lose his handhold, and likely his life. Faramir attempted to call out, but his voice seemed stuck in his throat, and words never left his mouth. He began to fear the others would never see him, trapped upon a rock in the water.
But luck wasn't finished with Faramir yet. Beregond happened to glance in the direction of the rock, in his attempts to steer the boat away from yet another obstacle. The older boy started yelling, getting Anborn and Boromir to turn their heads. Then Beregond whipped the boat around to face Faramir.
There was a very real chance of the boat crashing directly into the rock, knocking all four boys into the water. However, if Beregond didn't steer towards Faramir, it would be all too easy for them to float swiftly by, and lose all chance of rescue.
Seconds passed. The boat was pointed directly at the rocks, with Boromir and Anborn waiting anxiously on opposite sides, arms outstretched. Fear was visible in their eyes; but something else too seemed to be present. They were determined to be successful; perhaps to succeed, or die trying.
Everything else happened in a blur. At the last second, Beregond turned the boat away from the rock, swinging the side where Boromir sat directly at Faramir. The elder brother lunged forward, nearly slipping out of the boat himself, but managed to grab hold of Faramir's left arm. Then, with some help from Anborn, Boromir pulled his brother into the safety of the boat. They sat for a moment, panting and shaking from the cold.
Around them, the river roared on.
********
They seemed to travel for miles, unable to free the boat from the clutches of the swift moving water. Beregond and Boromir took turns in their feeble attempts to steer, but they held little sway over the river, and just keeping the boat away from rocks was an incredible feat. Anborn was not strong enough to steer, so he switched off acting as lookout and talking to Faramir.
The latter was huddled in the bottom of the boat. He was soaking wet from the water, and no amount of shivering could shake the cold from his body. Faramir tried to stay awake, but sleep seemed so comforting that he kept drifting into its grasp. Only the words of Anborn, along with a little repeated nudging, forced him to remain alert to the outside world.
Eventually, the river seemed to calm as it widened downstream. Boromir, who happened to be paddling at the time, managed to aim the boat towards the western shore. It was the side of the river closest to the city, that much he knew from geography lessons. He only hoped they could find their way back to the city before nightfall. Otherwise, it would be a very long night for them all. His desire to return home fueled his strength, and he quickly, almost urgently, paddled to the shore.
Unfortunately, when the boat was dragged onto the sand, none present had any clue where to turn next. They had no way of determining how far downriver the boat was carried, and it was entirely possible that they were now either still north, or slightly south, of the city. If they decided to travel in the wrong direction, it might prove impossible to find the way back. Following the river back upstream might work, but it was lined with many trees, and would be difficult to navigate a path through.
Finally, Boromir realized that a way home would have to wait, at least for the moment. They were all wet from the water, especially Faramir. His younger brother could not stop shaking from the cold, either, and travel would most likely result in serious illness.
"We have to build a fire," Boromir said with more confidence then he felt. "Everyone is wet, and it will do little good if we freeze before we even reach the city." He wrapped Faramir in his cloak, for it was the driest one available; then told Beregond to find firewood. To Anborn, Boromir delegated the task of clearing space for a fire, while he himself found some brush that would catch fire easily when exposed to a spark.
However, when all was prepared, another problem was discovered. Boromir had his sword, but none present processed the necessary stone to strike it against, and thus begin a blaze. Without it, there could be no fire, and no warmth.
Beneath the raging surface of the Anduin, time seemed to stand still. The river was swift moving and treacherous, yet the roaring sounds above were distorted by the dark water. Movement was difficult, if not impossible, for the river dictated all. Those who attempted to move against the water soon learned that it was like trying to hold back the ocean tide.
In the midst of the river, a few feet below the surface, Faramir felt the panic rising through his body. He was being tumbled over and over again, swept onward by the currents that had been so effective at propelling the small boats. Even a powerful swimmer, unhampered by any rope would have thought twice before attempting a swim in this portion of the river.
Unfortunately, Faramir found it hopeless. The rope that might appear inviting when thrown to a drowning person was now the bane of the younger brother. He struggled to free himself, though in his mind he knew that the tugging, paired with the water, was only making his bonds tighter. Faramir caught a glimpse of the surface as his lungs began to ache for air.
Soon however, it became apparent that oxygen was not the only hardship the river had to throw at the boy. As Faramir himself had stated, the waters were swift moving due to melting snow. However, this also caused a tremendous drop in the temperature, creating a frigid death trap for those who were careless enough to get caught within.
Eventually, Faramir's struggles became fewer and far between. He could still see the surface, and an escape to air and warmth, but the water was not about to give him up. With cold numbing his senses, Faramir began slipping away.
********
Even the roar of the river on the surface could not drown out the cries of the shaking people as they yelled into the water.
"Faramir!" The voices of Beregond and Anborn shouted in unison, trying in vain to pierce the swirling water for any trace of their friend. For a split second, the older boy seemed ready to dive into the water after him, but he realized that such a move could very well be suicide. Beregond chose to snatch the one paddle that remained to them, and steered the boat away from as many rocks as possible. Anborn half-heatedly bailed the water out of the boat; he was still mainly focused on the river below.
Boromir's mind was a numb as Faramir's, though he did not share his brother's fate in the icy waters below. He vaguely saw his two other companions in the boat, but their actions did not fully register in his mind. His eyes were fixed on his hands; those hands that had failed to snatch his younger brother from the unforgiving river below.
"Faramir!" Boromir tried to yell into the water, to make his voice audible like those of Anborn and Beregond, but his attempts resulted only in whispers. He moved his gaze from his own hands down to the river, as if his very will might bring Faramir back up to the surface.
His eyes failed to spot anything but the blue-gray rush of water that continued roaring past.
An eternity seemed to pass, or was it only mere seconds? Boromir no longer had any sense of time. He knew only the fear pressing against his mind and heart, a terror that his only brother might forever be lost in the midst of the Anduin.
Suddenly, a new noise broke into Boromir's thoughts, shattering them like a bolt of lightening that streaks across the midnight sky. Beregond was yelling at the top of his voice, pointing desperately to a rock in the middle of the river.
"Look! Over there! Not far from the right shore!"
A small figure was clinging to a boulder in the midst of the swirling waters.
********
Escape had appeared so suddenly to Faramir that he had difficulty comprehending it. Only seconds before, he was a victim of the frigid river; then suddenly, almost miraculously, he had crashed into a rock in the river.
It certainly wasn't a comfortable escape from the deadly water, for it left many cuts and bruises along his body, but to Faramir, it represented a small beacon of hope. He managed to grab onto a portion of the rock, just small enough to be a useful handhold.
Then, the raging river unwittingly aided the struggling boy. Where once the current had tossed Faramir about, giving him no chance to catch breath of air, it now propelled him upward and sideways as it attempted to thwart the boulder in its path. It was still very difficult, clinging to the rock, but he had been given a chance.
A small chance, yes; yet perhaps there was hope that he might be seen.
Indeed, though previous events might suggest otherwise, fate was smiling down upon Faramir this day. He was downriver from the remaining boat, because it had become momentarily caught on a tree. Now, as he shivered in the water, Faramir caught a glimpse of the others, currently upriver of him, but moving rapidly.
Despite the effect the freezing water was beginning to have on his mind, some deep instinct told him not to try waving at the others, for then he would surely lose his handhold, and likely his life. Faramir attempted to call out, but his voice seemed stuck in his throat, and words never left his mouth. He began to fear the others would never see him, trapped upon a rock in the water.
But luck wasn't finished with Faramir yet. Beregond happened to glance in the direction of the rock, in his attempts to steer the boat away from yet another obstacle. The older boy started yelling, getting Anborn and Boromir to turn their heads. Then Beregond whipped the boat around to face Faramir.
There was a very real chance of the boat crashing directly into the rock, knocking all four boys into the water. However, if Beregond didn't steer towards Faramir, it would be all too easy for them to float swiftly by, and lose all chance of rescue.
Seconds passed. The boat was pointed directly at the rocks, with Boromir and Anborn waiting anxiously on opposite sides, arms outstretched. Fear was visible in their eyes; but something else too seemed to be present. They were determined to be successful; perhaps to succeed, or die trying.
Everything else happened in a blur. At the last second, Beregond turned the boat away from the rock, swinging the side where Boromir sat directly at Faramir. The elder brother lunged forward, nearly slipping out of the boat himself, but managed to grab hold of Faramir's left arm. Then, with some help from Anborn, Boromir pulled his brother into the safety of the boat. They sat for a moment, panting and shaking from the cold.
Around them, the river roared on.
********
They seemed to travel for miles, unable to free the boat from the clutches of the swift moving water. Beregond and Boromir took turns in their feeble attempts to steer, but they held little sway over the river, and just keeping the boat away from rocks was an incredible feat. Anborn was not strong enough to steer, so he switched off acting as lookout and talking to Faramir.
The latter was huddled in the bottom of the boat. He was soaking wet from the water, and no amount of shivering could shake the cold from his body. Faramir tried to stay awake, but sleep seemed so comforting that he kept drifting into its grasp. Only the words of Anborn, along with a little repeated nudging, forced him to remain alert to the outside world.
Eventually, the river seemed to calm as it widened downstream. Boromir, who happened to be paddling at the time, managed to aim the boat towards the western shore. It was the side of the river closest to the city, that much he knew from geography lessons. He only hoped they could find their way back to the city before nightfall. Otherwise, it would be a very long night for them all. His desire to return home fueled his strength, and he quickly, almost urgently, paddled to the shore.
Unfortunately, when the boat was dragged onto the sand, none present had any clue where to turn next. They had no way of determining how far downriver the boat was carried, and it was entirely possible that they were now either still north, or slightly south, of the city. If they decided to travel in the wrong direction, it might prove impossible to find the way back. Following the river back upstream might work, but it was lined with many trees, and would be difficult to navigate a path through.
Finally, Boromir realized that a way home would have to wait, at least for the moment. They were all wet from the water, especially Faramir. His younger brother could not stop shaking from the cold, either, and travel would most likely result in serious illness.
"We have to build a fire," Boromir said with more confidence then he felt. "Everyone is wet, and it will do little good if we freeze before we even reach the city." He wrapped Faramir in his cloak, for it was the driest one available; then told Beregond to find firewood. To Anborn, Boromir delegated the task of clearing space for a fire, while he himself found some brush that would catch fire easily when exposed to a spark.
However, when all was prepared, another problem was discovered. Boromir had his sword, but none present processed the necessary stone to strike it against, and thus begin a blaze. Without it, there could be no fire, and no warmth.