1
THE FALL OF BOROMIR
As I lay in the dry leaves, my heart eased and the fury that just seconds ago possessed me, seeped from my body. The pounding in my head did not seem to go away, the unusual chaotic rumbling echoed in my ears...wait, chaotic rumbling? I concentrated harder on the source of the sound, and heat the familiar thunder of troops clad in Iron Armour. My head snapped up as I heard the screams and roars of a legion of dark, foul creatures...Orcs. I shot up and my hand instinctively reached for my sword, my ears perked, and my mind began to race.
Suddenly I heard a small squeaky voice scream out from over the ridge. "I know it's working – run!" one of the halfings, Merry? I ran over the fallen branches and rocks that littered my path crossing the ridge. Then through the trees I could see the little ones, Orcs gaining on them from all sides. I unsheathed my long sword; the sound of the metal being drawn forth was always exhilarating and customary before a battle. The sunlight caught on the blade, sending out patterns of white on the trees around me, warning all foes in sight to stay clear.
As I charged forward, an Orc slung his axe high above his head, preparing to swing it down upon the two helpless hobbits, faces frozen in terror. Using my shoulders I brought my sword around and swung it towards the beast, the clean blade slicing open the crackly, dry skin, charging through the fresh raw meat and exploding out in a plume of red blood. The Orc was dead before it hit the ground.
Merry and Pippin looked on with a mixed expression of pain and relief, but the relief soon dispersed and their eyes widened. Sensing the danger, I ducked, the blunt blade of an Orcs sword sailing inches from my scalp, the gush of wind playing with my hair. I twisted my torso and brought my sword upwards; catching the monster under the jaw, slicing upwards until – with a pop – it cracked out from the top of the skull, impaling him.
Suddenly I remembered the Horn of Gondor, a horn of which, if blown, commands assistance from any loyal subject to the thrown of Gondor. Although I knew we were to far from my homeland, and far too close to the evils of Mordor for it to be of any great use, I knew it would at least attract those of the fellowship. I held the horn to my mouth, and using the air from my lungs, let out a long deep bellow, which seemed to echo on with the woods for eternity...
Before I knew it, more dark warriors ran out from the trees, forcing me to wield my long sword yet again, to thwart the oncoming attacks, to protect the two hobbits. The sight was discouraging, as no matter how many Orcs I took down, there was always more to replace them.
All of a sudden, the sky seemed to be overcast, the world darkened and the air turned damp. I looked up to see a large figure on the ridge, a bow pointed in my direction. But it was too late. The arrow hit just above my heart; the steel tip pierced my clothing, then my skin, slicing open the delicate organism, then pushing it apart as the thicker bulk of the arrow slipped through. It then proceeded to lodge itself against the Bones in my shoulder, where it settled.
The wind was knocked out of me like a boulder had been dropped on my lungs, I fell to my knees, gasping for breath. No, no, not like this...I will not be killed by some foul demon! I jumped up from my knees as the next Orc arrived, and erased it from existence, then continued to fight on in order to protect the two halflings. A minute passed before I heard another arrow flying through the forest like a finch, then imbedding itself in the space below my heart. My eyes began to glaze, I could take no more. I could feel my lungs begin to fill with fluid...no doubt blood, and my head felt light, my energy draining...
I looked up at Pippin, the poor innocent Hobbit looking down at me with pity, his eyes scouring my face, looking for reason. Death will be his fate soon, unless... Using every last ounce of strength in my body, I leaped up from the ground, screaming in angst and anger. One, two, three more Orcs down - my body urged for rest, pain squeezing at every limb – four, five and then – THWACK!
I knew it was coming. But there was nothing I could do. I looked down and examined the final messenger of death. The thick wooden arrow stuck out from my heart, the biggest splinter of them all. And for the last time, I fell back to the earth. While I could not see them, I could hear the Hobbits scream and charge into the fray, but in vein. The larger more powerful Orcs scooped them up and carried them off. To where? I did not want to think of the possibilities. I had failed them.
Legions of Orcs ran by as I kneeled defenseless, useless in the middle of the path. The shame and sense of defeat was overpowering. Here I was, a human and representative of the kingdom of Gondor, defeated by a few corrupted beasts, now considered harmless, and fragile, the position was degrading. A pair of armored feet steeped into my view. I stared up at the large, disgusting being, with his sword swaying in front of my face. He raised his blade and prepared to lob at my neck. Accepting my fate, I closed my eyes...
THE FALL OF BOROMIR
As I lay in the dry leaves, my heart eased and the fury that just seconds ago possessed me, seeped from my body. The pounding in my head did not seem to go away, the unusual chaotic rumbling echoed in my ears...wait, chaotic rumbling? I concentrated harder on the source of the sound, and heat the familiar thunder of troops clad in Iron Armour. My head snapped up as I heard the screams and roars of a legion of dark, foul creatures...Orcs. I shot up and my hand instinctively reached for my sword, my ears perked, and my mind began to race.
Suddenly I heard a small squeaky voice scream out from over the ridge. "I know it's working – run!" one of the halfings, Merry? I ran over the fallen branches and rocks that littered my path crossing the ridge. Then through the trees I could see the little ones, Orcs gaining on them from all sides. I unsheathed my long sword; the sound of the metal being drawn forth was always exhilarating and customary before a battle. The sunlight caught on the blade, sending out patterns of white on the trees around me, warning all foes in sight to stay clear.
As I charged forward, an Orc slung his axe high above his head, preparing to swing it down upon the two helpless hobbits, faces frozen in terror. Using my shoulders I brought my sword around and swung it towards the beast, the clean blade slicing open the crackly, dry skin, charging through the fresh raw meat and exploding out in a plume of red blood. The Orc was dead before it hit the ground.
Merry and Pippin looked on with a mixed expression of pain and relief, but the relief soon dispersed and their eyes widened. Sensing the danger, I ducked, the blunt blade of an Orcs sword sailing inches from my scalp, the gush of wind playing with my hair. I twisted my torso and brought my sword upwards; catching the monster under the jaw, slicing upwards until – with a pop – it cracked out from the top of the skull, impaling him.
Suddenly I remembered the Horn of Gondor, a horn of which, if blown, commands assistance from any loyal subject to the thrown of Gondor. Although I knew we were to far from my homeland, and far too close to the evils of Mordor for it to be of any great use, I knew it would at least attract those of the fellowship. I held the horn to my mouth, and using the air from my lungs, let out a long deep bellow, which seemed to echo on with the woods for eternity...
Before I knew it, more dark warriors ran out from the trees, forcing me to wield my long sword yet again, to thwart the oncoming attacks, to protect the two hobbits. The sight was discouraging, as no matter how many Orcs I took down, there was always more to replace them.
All of a sudden, the sky seemed to be overcast, the world darkened and the air turned damp. I looked up to see a large figure on the ridge, a bow pointed in my direction. But it was too late. The arrow hit just above my heart; the steel tip pierced my clothing, then my skin, slicing open the delicate organism, then pushing it apart as the thicker bulk of the arrow slipped through. It then proceeded to lodge itself against the Bones in my shoulder, where it settled.
The wind was knocked out of me like a boulder had been dropped on my lungs, I fell to my knees, gasping for breath. No, no, not like this...I will not be killed by some foul demon! I jumped up from my knees as the next Orc arrived, and erased it from existence, then continued to fight on in order to protect the two halflings. A minute passed before I heard another arrow flying through the forest like a finch, then imbedding itself in the space below my heart. My eyes began to glaze, I could take no more. I could feel my lungs begin to fill with fluid...no doubt blood, and my head felt light, my energy draining...
I looked up at Pippin, the poor innocent Hobbit looking down at me with pity, his eyes scouring my face, looking for reason. Death will be his fate soon, unless... Using every last ounce of strength in my body, I leaped up from the ground, screaming in angst and anger. One, two, three more Orcs down - my body urged for rest, pain squeezing at every limb – four, five and then – THWACK!
I knew it was coming. But there was nothing I could do. I looked down and examined the final messenger of death. The thick wooden arrow stuck out from my heart, the biggest splinter of them all. And for the last time, I fell back to the earth. While I could not see them, I could hear the Hobbits scream and charge into the fray, but in vein. The larger more powerful Orcs scooped them up and carried them off. To where? I did not want to think of the possibilities. I had failed them.
Legions of Orcs ran by as I kneeled defenseless, useless in the middle of the path. The shame and sense of defeat was overpowering. Here I was, a human and representative of the kingdom of Gondor, defeated by a few corrupted beasts, now considered harmless, and fragile, the position was degrading. A pair of armored feet steeped into my view. I stared up at the large, disgusting being, with his sword swaying in front of my face. He raised his blade and prepared to lob at my neck. Accepting my fate, I closed my eyes...