Hello everybody!
First of all, I'm very sorry for the delay, but I have a reason (don't we all :) ). I've just finished my exams and a very important paper, and right now I'm doing a six weeks long internship, wich means i'm not at home for 12 hours a day.
Unfortunately, this doesn't leave much time for writing :(
Skahducky: tx a lot! But there are a lot of people out there that write better than I do.
Amanda: glad you like it :)
ethiercn: hum, you're not alone in the not liking the tickling thing. But glad you liked it anyway. I love feedback :)
charysa: tssssssssk, such thoughts are bad for my imagination :)) Thanks for reviewing!
BoromirsBabe: Pippin Chocolates, yeeeeeeeeeey! Thanks a lot :)
Tara: Obviously they're all very out of character at the end, with the tickling and all. Sorry for that. Also, this will not be a slash story, I promise. Oh, and Faramir decided to join us for this episode, although he doesn't say much. Lots of angst for the poor kid I'm afraid :))
Lady of Legolas & Princess of Mirkwood: I'm working on the slash version of the story this week, but it will probably be posted at the library of Moria, because of the banning of NC-17 from ff.net. Pairing will, of course, be B/L :))
AzNnEgGrOePnOi: when will the next chapter be up? Right about now :)) Tx for the review :)
Super Lizard: thanks for all the tips :)
Anne-Marie: oeps, another that noticed the tickling part was OOC. I'LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN! tx for the review
And now: on with the show!
Chapter 7: Wise Words and less wise Wizards
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The battle was theirs, but Gandalf had remembered them that there was still much to do. One of those things to do, the Wizard had said, was to pay a visit to Saruman. Boromir thought this to be a bad idea. He knew that Gandalf was one of the Istari himself, probably more powerfull after his rebirth, but still ...
Saruman was the leader of the Wizard order, a most appreciated ally before his treatchery, and now a most dreaded ennemy. But Gandalf had deemed this act necessary, so much so even that he would have left on his own. Aragorn had, of course, argued against that, but this only ended up in all four of them coming along to Isengard. King Théoden, Éomer and some other warriors would come as well.
So they had rested a little, taking care of their wounds, until the afternoon. The journey to Saruman's fortress would take them more then a day, passing the river Isen where a lot of Rohan's wariors had fallen. A mound had been placed over them, surrounded by spears, protecting the Fords. Boromir sat on his horse for a while, looking at it.
"The Wizard has much to pay for." Gimli's bass voice came from beside him. The sturdy Dwarf sat behind his Elf-friend again, sharing Arod. Boromir nodded and sighed. Saruman had much to pay for indeed. So many people had been killed during the nightly battle that it had made him, a warrior of many battles, sick. Most of them had been kids, barely old enough to lift their weapons. They had looked like Faramir when he had first held a weapon: they looked lost.
He shook his head, trying to clear it from those sad thoughts. Drawing himself upright again, he felt his sprits lift a little in the knowledge that his little brother would be safe in Minas Tirith. At least that was something to be grateful for.
The next noon they came to the road into Isengard. The place was, there was no other description possible, a mess. Boromir looked around wide-eyed and unbelieving. Stone walls had been torn down, leaving piles of rock everywhere, steam rose from within the little that was left of the surrounding stone ring of Isengard's defences. The once proud dwelling of the mightiest Sorceror in Middle-Earth had fallen just as low as the one who lived in it.
And, to top it all off, and the edge of the destruction to the walls, two small figures sat and lay between the stones, peacefully smoking their pipes.
He caught the amused glance that Legolas threw his way, smiling back softly. Then his smile grow broader as he saw the amazed expression on Gimli's face. The Dwarf looked as though he had been told that Dwarves weren't the hardiest creatures in the world. But before annyone could comment, one of the Hobbits sprang up.
"Welcome, my Lords, to Isengard." he said. "We are the gatekeepers. Meriadoc, son of Saradoc, is my name; and my companion, who has been felled by tiredness I fear, is Peregrin, son of Paladin, of the House Took. Far to the North we belong. Lord Saruman is inside, but, at the moment, has retreated with one Wormtongue, otherwhise he would surely be here to greet such worthy guests."
"Undoubtfully!" Gandalf said, unable to contain his own laughter. "And was it Saruman who asked you to sit at his gates and wait for his guests, if you could find the time to let your plates and naps rest?"
"Nay, my good Lord," Merry said, totally serious, "the case has escaped his attention. He has been too busy. We have received our orders from Treebeard, who has taken over the control over Isengard. He bade me to welcome the Lord of Rohan with fitting words. I have done my best."
Gimli, it seemed to Boromir, exploded after that little smug speech. "And what about your friends, eh? What about Legolas and Boromir and me? You little cheating Hobbits, you woolheaded and woolfooted truant players! You gave us a nice hunt, you did: six hundred miles through swamps and forests, battle and death, all to save you! And here you are ... eating your fills and smoking. Smoking! Where did you get the weed, you rascals? Gods protect me, I am so thrown between anger and joy, it may be called a miracle that I haven't burst yet."
Legolas laughed. "You take the words from my mouth, Gimli," he said, "although I would rather know where you found the wine."
"Or how you escaped the Orcs." Boromir added.
"There is one thing that you apparently didn't find in your chase and that is some more common sense." Pippin offered as he opened an eye. "You find us here at a field of victory, in the midst of the spoils of war, and you ask yourselves how we have come to a bit of well-earned luxury."
"Well-earned?" Gimli asked, "I find that rather hard to believe!"
Everybody around laughed at that statement, and Théoden commented "It has no doubt that we are witnessing the meeting of good friends."
Gandalf smiled and introduced the King of Rohan to the first Hobbits he had ever seen. Boromir didn't follow the conversation any more, he was too busy being relieved to see his 'little ones' unharmed and safe.
After a while, all but Boromir, Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn left to meet with Treebeard. Instead they stayed behind to have a 'discussion' with their long lost friends, as Gimli chose to name it. In Boromir's opinion, the Dwarf was just looking for a way to take his anger out on them.
Merry and Pippin led them into the wall surrounding Isengard, promising a meal as retribution for their woes along the hunt.
"I'm not eating no Orc-food." Gimli said, still slightly of his mood by the scene of the two Hobbits smoking pipeweed, while he had had feared for their lives, believing them to be in great peril.
"We wouldn't expect you to eat anything like that." Pippin said, "We have had enough of Orcs ourselves for the rest of our lives, thank you very much." With that they entered the small provision chamber and settled down to eat. Even after spending several months in the company of Hobbits, Boromir was still amazed at the amount of food they could gobble, for even though the two had just shared a very expansive meal outside while waiting for them, they didn't seem at all to be forcing themselves as they now joined their friends for a second midday meal.
After dinner they went back outside, lighting their pipes as they sat down on the grass. "Well," Boromir said, "since you're all smoking, and I assume therefore that you have nothing better to do (a threatening glare from Gimli was directed at him for making fun of one of the Dwarfs favorite pass-times), I would like to hear what happened to you."
"As would I." Legolas seconded, "The fog is clearing, or at least it would be if you weren't clouding the vale again with your smoke." Some derisive snorts mixed with Boromir's chuckles at that comment, but the Hobbits did start a recount of their experiances from the time they were captured on.
It was already a good time later when they ended, both now looking at Boromir with wide eyes. "We thought you were dead." Pippin finally admitted. When the Human eyed them questioningly, he expanded. "I mean, we both saw you go down and ..." the young Hobbit trailed of, looking at Merry to confirm he was not alone in his worry.
Boromir smiled at them reassuringly. "I'm perfectly fine, little ones. As a matter of fact, I think we had more cause to worry over you, than the other way around." But at the same time he knew that his own life had indeed been in danger. Not only in the forest, but also at Helm's Deep. And the end of this particular adventure was far from in sight. Wich meant that, like it or not, Boromir would still have plenty chances to encounter his death, or, what was maybe even worse, to loose one of the people that now surrounded him. He wouldn't be able to take that, he knew this as he looked from one to the other: the cheerful Hobbits, the quiet Man that would become his King, the Dwarf and the Elf, gently teasing eachother over something. They were worth the world to him, and he would fight to keep them all safe, just like he had for Faramir.
Pippin's cheerful voice brought him back to the here and now. "If you want we can go see Isengard now. The waters have retreated, although the footing is rather unstable." And so they rose from their places on the ground, carefully moving over Isengards wet soil, noticing Gandalf, Théoden and their companions making their way over to Orthanc.
From up close, the large Tower of Saruman seemed even more intimidating. Ever higher it rose, seeming to touch the clouds, the sky itself. Tons of smoothly carved black rock, not a seem in the stonework. It was like the building had risen up from under the ground, to come to a standstill where it was now, defying anyone to try and throw it down. Boromir was impressed, even overpowered by the look of it.
It made him a little more uneasy about the upcomming parley: if the Tower was a reflection of Saruman's power ...
"Looking at the state of his lovely mansion, I would nearly think Saruman is hiding." The soft voice beside him, gave him a measure of comfort. He studied Legolas as the Elf gazed at the Orthanc. "You don't need to worry so much about this, my friend." the prince said as he turned to Boromir, "Gandalf would never lead his friends into something he couldn't lead them out of."
The small company reached the base of the stairs that led up to the door and paused.
"I will go up." Gandalf said. "I have been in Isengard before and do not fear Saruman."
"I will go with you." Théoden said, "Éomer will accompany me and see that my old legs do not give way underneath me."
"Very well. Aragorn will come with me. The rest can stay here. You will be able to see everything weel enough."
"No," Gimli said. "Legolas, Boromir and I will also come as representatives of our people. We would like to have a closer look."
The Wizard looked at him with a small smile around his lips. "Fine, let us go then."
They ascended the stairs and Gandalf nocked on the door with his staf, calling for Saruman. Foir a couple of moments nothing happened, then a voice spoke to then , asking who it was. Théoden and Éomer stiffened at the recognition of the hated spokesman.
"Go tell Saruman I wish to speak with him, Grima Wormtongue." Gandalf said. The presence retreated, only to be replaced by another. Saruman had come onto his balcony, unnoticed until he beagn to speak.
'He is good at this,' Boromir thought, looking up in surprise like the others to find the Istar standing above them, 'charming his way into peoples minds and controlling them.' It nearly made him wish he had stayed at the base of the stairs.
He watched as Saruman tried to charm first Théoden and then Gandalf, feeling a new sort of respect for Gimli when the Dwarf spoke up blatantly and challenged the mighty Wizard. Neither King nor Istar were won over in the end, both seeing through Sarumans word games enough to know that they could not trust him any longer without putting themselves in danger. Boromir thought that the Wizard was defeated at his own game, and was rather amazed that he had not induced any thoughts of defeat in their hearts.
But then the Istar spoke again.
"Fools, you cannot win this war. Rohan is not the only country that shall be attacked. Perhaps the realm of Gondor will fall even quicker." At these words, Saruman turned his full gaze and the power of his voice onto Boromir. "Maybe your city will already be in ruins once you return to it, son of the Steward. Your people have fallen from greatness long ago, it is about time that the last of your 'noble' houses were destroyed and Minas Tirith burned until nothing was left of it but ashes."
Boromir stood frozen, not knowing what to say or do for the moment while this great and powerfull Wizard spoke to him of his worst nightmare: the falling of the City and the people that he had fought nearly his entire life. Some part of him knew that Saruman was trying to get at him, like he tried to affect Théoden and Gandalf. All the rest of him was screaming on the inside, terified that the Istar was right and that soon his whole life would be gone.
"Your father is already despairing." Saruman continued, voice laced with contentment. "He has knowledge of the true strentgth that he tries to oppose. He knows his City will fall and that everything its defenders do is in vain. It eats away at him, little by little. If you ever return home, it is quite imaginable that you won't even recognize him."
The world was spinning around him now, the calm, confident words comming through the haze that covered everything that was not in a direct line between him and the Wizard. Boromir felt lost.
Then Gimli spoke up again, daring the wrath of the Istar for a second time. "We'll help Boromir. And I don't believe that you know so much about what is happening in Minas Tirith."
The Wizard just smiled at him, but anger flashed briefly in his eyes. "You'd be surpised at what I know, foolish Dwarf. My power is far beyond you. I beg you a good day, 'masters'. May all your dreams come to an unflattering end." And with that he turned away from them and went back to the doors from wich he had come.
"Saruman." Gandalf's voice sounded, calm but commanding none the less, "We are not yet finished."
The former White Wizard stiffened, and came back to the edge of the balcony, drawn against his will. "Saruman, you have fallen from your position of wisdom." He lifted his staf and pointed it towards the other. "Saruman, your staf is broken. You no longer have a Color and therfor you are removed from the Council."
Sarumans white staf did indeed break, and the knob rolled until it lay at Gandalfs feet. Saruman looked at him with an undesribable rage, then turned from the rail to go back inside.
Boromir started to relax again as he felt the tension leave him, knowing that the Istar was now fully defeated. A sudden clanck and movement startled him. A weird, round object had shattered the railing where only seconds ago Saruman had been. It continued its downward surge, breaking the step Gandalf stood on, then rolling further down. As it passed him, Boromir couldn't help the déja-vu feeling that hit him. He had seen this thing before, but for the life of him couldn't remember where. He mused on it as he saw Pippin run to catch the thing.
"Let us go if this is the end of the conversation, before they find something more to throw at us." Gimli remarked at his side.
As they went down again, Boromir noticed that he wasn't the only one that had eye for the round stone. Gandalf took it from Pippin and guarded it relentlessly as they moved to their horses, leaving for Helm's Deep once more, after saying their goodbyes to the Ents.
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Minas Tirith:
"My Lord, your son has returned." Denethor waived the servant away, not reacting in any other way outwardly, but trembling to control himself inside. 'Your son has returned'. Those words had in earlier times always meant that Boromir had returned from one of his battles or other missions. Now his eldest son was gone, and those words seemed to hit a dangerous nerve inside him.
He didn't look up as Faramir came in, thanking the servant for announcing him. He didn't want it to be Faramir, he wanted it to be Boromir and the knowledge that this would never be burned him.
"Father, I bear news from Ithilien. The company of Haradrim has been taken out, like you commanded." his youngest said with a small bow. Although he had little love for Faramir, he still felt a stab of sadness at the formality that existed between them. So very different from Boromir, in every aspect almost.
He lifted his head to look at the other man, seeing that he wasn't as tense as when he had left. Could there be something that had lifted Faramirs spirit? Where had he found hope in these black days? Then a darker thought: how dare he hope while his brother has fallen and his City and father are close behind?
"Good, then you will go and command the trops at Cair Andros. They need a leader there in the upcomming confrontation. To slow the inevitable."
"The inevitable? Father? Surely there is still hope to win this war. We have brave men at our side and the people of Rohan ..."
"Hope?!?" Denethor shot out of his chair, fury blinding him to anything but this fool before him that spoke of hope. "Hope has gone a long time ago and all we have done was in vain, though we did not see it at the time. It was hopeless to send you brother away to chase the answers to a dream. And it got him killed." He panted heavily, clutching the armrests of his chair and leaning on them to keep upright.
"Killed?...Boromir?...But how? Why?" Faramirs eyes were wide and glinstening with unshed tears. All hope, Denethor noted was gone from his features. "This cannot be. You must be mistaking..."
"No." Denethor said, and his voice was as dead and cold like an ice-storm. "I have seen it, seen the arrow that would pierce his heart. My oldest son is dead, and I and the entire City will soon follow him. As for you, go to Cair Andros or Osgiliath and defend it. Believe that there is still hope, if you cannot see the truth. As for me, I know that everything is lost. Go now, I do not wish to speak with you until you return, if you return at all."
Denethor turned away from his son, towards the towerchamber where the Palantir was kept. Faramir remained behind, the little hope the Halfling had given him crushed into pieces too small to pick up again.
If everything was already lost, if Boromir was truly dead, what better place to die than on a field of honour, defending his people. Like his brother would have done. With barely any time to rest or pack, Faramir rode back out towards the Anduin.
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Tada! Hope it was worth the wait :)
See you next chapter. And please review? It keeps my spirits high :)
First of all, I'm very sorry for the delay, but I have a reason (don't we all :) ). I've just finished my exams and a very important paper, and right now I'm doing a six weeks long internship, wich means i'm not at home for 12 hours a day.
Unfortunately, this doesn't leave much time for writing :(
Skahducky: tx a lot! But there are a lot of people out there that write better than I do.
Amanda: glad you like it :)
ethiercn: hum, you're not alone in the not liking the tickling thing. But glad you liked it anyway. I love feedback :)
charysa: tssssssssk, such thoughts are bad for my imagination :)) Thanks for reviewing!
BoromirsBabe: Pippin Chocolates, yeeeeeeeeeey! Thanks a lot :)
Tara: Obviously they're all very out of character at the end, with the tickling and all. Sorry for that. Also, this will not be a slash story, I promise. Oh, and Faramir decided to join us for this episode, although he doesn't say much. Lots of angst for the poor kid I'm afraid :))
Lady of Legolas & Princess of Mirkwood: I'm working on the slash version of the story this week, but it will probably be posted at the library of Moria, because of the banning of NC-17 from ff.net. Pairing will, of course, be B/L :))
AzNnEgGrOePnOi: when will the next chapter be up? Right about now :)) Tx for the review :)
Super Lizard: thanks for all the tips :)
Anne-Marie: oeps, another that noticed the tickling part was OOC. I'LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN! tx for the review
And now: on with the show!
Chapter 7: Wise Words and less wise Wizards
**********************************************
The battle was theirs, but Gandalf had remembered them that there was still much to do. One of those things to do, the Wizard had said, was to pay a visit to Saruman. Boromir thought this to be a bad idea. He knew that Gandalf was one of the Istari himself, probably more powerfull after his rebirth, but still ...
Saruman was the leader of the Wizard order, a most appreciated ally before his treatchery, and now a most dreaded ennemy. But Gandalf had deemed this act necessary, so much so even that he would have left on his own. Aragorn had, of course, argued against that, but this only ended up in all four of them coming along to Isengard. King Théoden, Éomer and some other warriors would come as well.
So they had rested a little, taking care of their wounds, until the afternoon. The journey to Saruman's fortress would take them more then a day, passing the river Isen where a lot of Rohan's wariors had fallen. A mound had been placed over them, surrounded by spears, protecting the Fords. Boromir sat on his horse for a while, looking at it.
"The Wizard has much to pay for." Gimli's bass voice came from beside him. The sturdy Dwarf sat behind his Elf-friend again, sharing Arod. Boromir nodded and sighed. Saruman had much to pay for indeed. So many people had been killed during the nightly battle that it had made him, a warrior of many battles, sick. Most of them had been kids, barely old enough to lift their weapons. They had looked like Faramir when he had first held a weapon: they looked lost.
He shook his head, trying to clear it from those sad thoughts. Drawing himself upright again, he felt his sprits lift a little in the knowledge that his little brother would be safe in Minas Tirith. At least that was something to be grateful for.
The next noon they came to the road into Isengard. The place was, there was no other description possible, a mess. Boromir looked around wide-eyed and unbelieving. Stone walls had been torn down, leaving piles of rock everywhere, steam rose from within the little that was left of the surrounding stone ring of Isengard's defences. The once proud dwelling of the mightiest Sorceror in Middle-Earth had fallen just as low as the one who lived in it.
And, to top it all off, and the edge of the destruction to the walls, two small figures sat and lay between the stones, peacefully smoking their pipes.
He caught the amused glance that Legolas threw his way, smiling back softly. Then his smile grow broader as he saw the amazed expression on Gimli's face. The Dwarf looked as though he had been told that Dwarves weren't the hardiest creatures in the world. But before annyone could comment, one of the Hobbits sprang up.
"Welcome, my Lords, to Isengard." he said. "We are the gatekeepers. Meriadoc, son of Saradoc, is my name; and my companion, who has been felled by tiredness I fear, is Peregrin, son of Paladin, of the House Took. Far to the North we belong. Lord Saruman is inside, but, at the moment, has retreated with one Wormtongue, otherwhise he would surely be here to greet such worthy guests."
"Undoubtfully!" Gandalf said, unable to contain his own laughter. "And was it Saruman who asked you to sit at his gates and wait for his guests, if you could find the time to let your plates and naps rest?"
"Nay, my good Lord," Merry said, totally serious, "the case has escaped his attention. He has been too busy. We have received our orders from Treebeard, who has taken over the control over Isengard. He bade me to welcome the Lord of Rohan with fitting words. I have done my best."
Gimli, it seemed to Boromir, exploded after that little smug speech. "And what about your friends, eh? What about Legolas and Boromir and me? You little cheating Hobbits, you woolheaded and woolfooted truant players! You gave us a nice hunt, you did: six hundred miles through swamps and forests, battle and death, all to save you! And here you are ... eating your fills and smoking. Smoking! Where did you get the weed, you rascals? Gods protect me, I am so thrown between anger and joy, it may be called a miracle that I haven't burst yet."
Legolas laughed. "You take the words from my mouth, Gimli," he said, "although I would rather know where you found the wine."
"Or how you escaped the Orcs." Boromir added.
"There is one thing that you apparently didn't find in your chase and that is some more common sense." Pippin offered as he opened an eye. "You find us here at a field of victory, in the midst of the spoils of war, and you ask yourselves how we have come to a bit of well-earned luxury."
"Well-earned?" Gimli asked, "I find that rather hard to believe!"
Everybody around laughed at that statement, and Théoden commented "It has no doubt that we are witnessing the meeting of good friends."
Gandalf smiled and introduced the King of Rohan to the first Hobbits he had ever seen. Boromir didn't follow the conversation any more, he was too busy being relieved to see his 'little ones' unharmed and safe.
After a while, all but Boromir, Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn left to meet with Treebeard. Instead they stayed behind to have a 'discussion' with their long lost friends, as Gimli chose to name it. In Boromir's opinion, the Dwarf was just looking for a way to take his anger out on them.
Merry and Pippin led them into the wall surrounding Isengard, promising a meal as retribution for their woes along the hunt.
"I'm not eating no Orc-food." Gimli said, still slightly of his mood by the scene of the two Hobbits smoking pipeweed, while he had had feared for their lives, believing them to be in great peril.
"We wouldn't expect you to eat anything like that." Pippin said, "We have had enough of Orcs ourselves for the rest of our lives, thank you very much." With that they entered the small provision chamber and settled down to eat. Even after spending several months in the company of Hobbits, Boromir was still amazed at the amount of food they could gobble, for even though the two had just shared a very expansive meal outside while waiting for them, they didn't seem at all to be forcing themselves as they now joined their friends for a second midday meal.
After dinner they went back outside, lighting their pipes as they sat down on the grass. "Well," Boromir said, "since you're all smoking, and I assume therefore that you have nothing better to do (a threatening glare from Gimli was directed at him for making fun of one of the Dwarfs favorite pass-times), I would like to hear what happened to you."
"As would I." Legolas seconded, "The fog is clearing, or at least it would be if you weren't clouding the vale again with your smoke." Some derisive snorts mixed with Boromir's chuckles at that comment, but the Hobbits did start a recount of their experiances from the time they were captured on.
It was already a good time later when they ended, both now looking at Boromir with wide eyes. "We thought you were dead." Pippin finally admitted. When the Human eyed them questioningly, he expanded. "I mean, we both saw you go down and ..." the young Hobbit trailed of, looking at Merry to confirm he was not alone in his worry.
Boromir smiled at them reassuringly. "I'm perfectly fine, little ones. As a matter of fact, I think we had more cause to worry over you, than the other way around." But at the same time he knew that his own life had indeed been in danger. Not only in the forest, but also at Helm's Deep. And the end of this particular adventure was far from in sight. Wich meant that, like it or not, Boromir would still have plenty chances to encounter his death, or, what was maybe even worse, to loose one of the people that now surrounded him. He wouldn't be able to take that, he knew this as he looked from one to the other: the cheerful Hobbits, the quiet Man that would become his King, the Dwarf and the Elf, gently teasing eachother over something. They were worth the world to him, and he would fight to keep them all safe, just like he had for Faramir.
Pippin's cheerful voice brought him back to the here and now. "If you want we can go see Isengard now. The waters have retreated, although the footing is rather unstable." And so they rose from their places on the ground, carefully moving over Isengards wet soil, noticing Gandalf, Théoden and their companions making their way over to Orthanc.
From up close, the large Tower of Saruman seemed even more intimidating. Ever higher it rose, seeming to touch the clouds, the sky itself. Tons of smoothly carved black rock, not a seem in the stonework. It was like the building had risen up from under the ground, to come to a standstill where it was now, defying anyone to try and throw it down. Boromir was impressed, even overpowered by the look of it.
It made him a little more uneasy about the upcomming parley: if the Tower was a reflection of Saruman's power ...
"Looking at the state of his lovely mansion, I would nearly think Saruman is hiding." The soft voice beside him, gave him a measure of comfort. He studied Legolas as the Elf gazed at the Orthanc. "You don't need to worry so much about this, my friend." the prince said as he turned to Boromir, "Gandalf would never lead his friends into something he couldn't lead them out of."
The small company reached the base of the stairs that led up to the door and paused.
"I will go up." Gandalf said. "I have been in Isengard before and do not fear Saruman."
"I will go with you." Théoden said, "Éomer will accompany me and see that my old legs do not give way underneath me."
"Very well. Aragorn will come with me. The rest can stay here. You will be able to see everything weel enough."
"No," Gimli said. "Legolas, Boromir and I will also come as representatives of our people. We would like to have a closer look."
The Wizard looked at him with a small smile around his lips. "Fine, let us go then."
They ascended the stairs and Gandalf nocked on the door with his staf, calling for Saruman. Foir a couple of moments nothing happened, then a voice spoke to then , asking who it was. Théoden and Éomer stiffened at the recognition of the hated spokesman.
"Go tell Saruman I wish to speak with him, Grima Wormtongue." Gandalf said. The presence retreated, only to be replaced by another. Saruman had come onto his balcony, unnoticed until he beagn to speak.
'He is good at this,' Boromir thought, looking up in surprise like the others to find the Istar standing above them, 'charming his way into peoples minds and controlling them.' It nearly made him wish he had stayed at the base of the stairs.
He watched as Saruman tried to charm first Théoden and then Gandalf, feeling a new sort of respect for Gimli when the Dwarf spoke up blatantly and challenged the mighty Wizard. Neither King nor Istar were won over in the end, both seeing through Sarumans word games enough to know that they could not trust him any longer without putting themselves in danger. Boromir thought that the Wizard was defeated at his own game, and was rather amazed that he had not induced any thoughts of defeat in their hearts.
But then the Istar spoke again.
"Fools, you cannot win this war. Rohan is not the only country that shall be attacked. Perhaps the realm of Gondor will fall even quicker." At these words, Saruman turned his full gaze and the power of his voice onto Boromir. "Maybe your city will already be in ruins once you return to it, son of the Steward. Your people have fallen from greatness long ago, it is about time that the last of your 'noble' houses were destroyed and Minas Tirith burned until nothing was left of it but ashes."
Boromir stood frozen, not knowing what to say or do for the moment while this great and powerfull Wizard spoke to him of his worst nightmare: the falling of the City and the people that he had fought nearly his entire life. Some part of him knew that Saruman was trying to get at him, like he tried to affect Théoden and Gandalf. All the rest of him was screaming on the inside, terified that the Istar was right and that soon his whole life would be gone.
"Your father is already despairing." Saruman continued, voice laced with contentment. "He has knowledge of the true strentgth that he tries to oppose. He knows his City will fall and that everything its defenders do is in vain. It eats away at him, little by little. If you ever return home, it is quite imaginable that you won't even recognize him."
The world was spinning around him now, the calm, confident words comming through the haze that covered everything that was not in a direct line between him and the Wizard. Boromir felt lost.
Then Gimli spoke up again, daring the wrath of the Istar for a second time. "We'll help Boromir. And I don't believe that you know so much about what is happening in Minas Tirith."
The Wizard just smiled at him, but anger flashed briefly in his eyes. "You'd be surpised at what I know, foolish Dwarf. My power is far beyond you. I beg you a good day, 'masters'. May all your dreams come to an unflattering end." And with that he turned away from them and went back to the doors from wich he had come.
"Saruman." Gandalf's voice sounded, calm but commanding none the less, "We are not yet finished."
The former White Wizard stiffened, and came back to the edge of the balcony, drawn against his will. "Saruman, you have fallen from your position of wisdom." He lifted his staf and pointed it towards the other. "Saruman, your staf is broken. You no longer have a Color and therfor you are removed from the Council."
Sarumans white staf did indeed break, and the knob rolled until it lay at Gandalfs feet. Saruman looked at him with an undesribable rage, then turned from the rail to go back inside.
Boromir started to relax again as he felt the tension leave him, knowing that the Istar was now fully defeated. A sudden clanck and movement startled him. A weird, round object had shattered the railing where only seconds ago Saruman had been. It continued its downward surge, breaking the step Gandalf stood on, then rolling further down. As it passed him, Boromir couldn't help the déja-vu feeling that hit him. He had seen this thing before, but for the life of him couldn't remember where. He mused on it as he saw Pippin run to catch the thing.
"Let us go if this is the end of the conversation, before they find something more to throw at us." Gimli remarked at his side.
As they went down again, Boromir noticed that he wasn't the only one that had eye for the round stone. Gandalf took it from Pippin and guarded it relentlessly as they moved to their horses, leaving for Helm's Deep once more, after saying their goodbyes to the Ents.
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Minas Tirith:
"My Lord, your son has returned." Denethor waived the servant away, not reacting in any other way outwardly, but trembling to control himself inside. 'Your son has returned'. Those words had in earlier times always meant that Boromir had returned from one of his battles or other missions. Now his eldest son was gone, and those words seemed to hit a dangerous nerve inside him.
He didn't look up as Faramir came in, thanking the servant for announcing him. He didn't want it to be Faramir, he wanted it to be Boromir and the knowledge that this would never be burned him.
"Father, I bear news from Ithilien. The company of Haradrim has been taken out, like you commanded." his youngest said with a small bow. Although he had little love for Faramir, he still felt a stab of sadness at the formality that existed between them. So very different from Boromir, in every aspect almost.
He lifted his head to look at the other man, seeing that he wasn't as tense as when he had left. Could there be something that had lifted Faramirs spirit? Where had he found hope in these black days? Then a darker thought: how dare he hope while his brother has fallen and his City and father are close behind?
"Good, then you will go and command the trops at Cair Andros. They need a leader there in the upcomming confrontation. To slow the inevitable."
"The inevitable? Father? Surely there is still hope to win this war. We have brave men at our side and the people of Rohan ..."
"Hope?!?" Denethor shot out of his chair, fury blinding him to anything but this fool before him that spoke of hope. "Hope has gone a long time ago and all we have done was in vain, though we did not see it at the time. It was hopeless to send you brother away to chase the answers to a dream. And it got him killed." He panted heavily, clutching the armrests of his chair and leaning on them to keep upright.
"Killed?...Boromir?...But how? Why?" Faramirs eyes were wide and glinstening with unshed tears. All hope, Denethor noted was gone from his features. "This cannot be. You must be mistaking..."
"No." Denethor said, and his voice was as dead and cold like an ice-storm. "I have seen it, seen the arrow that would pierce his heart. My oldest son is dead, and I and the entire City will soon follow him. As for you, go to Cair Andros or Osgiliath and defend it. Believe that there is still hope, if you cannot see the truth. As for me, I know that everything is lost. Go now, I do not wish to speak with you until you return, if you return at all."
Denethor turned away from his son, towards the towerchamber where the Palantir was kept. Faramir remained behind, the little hope the Halfling had given him crushed into pieces too small to pick up again.
If everything was already lost, if Boromir was truly dead, what better place to die than on a field of honour, defending his people. Like his brother would have done. With barely any time to rest or pack, Faramir rode back out towards the Anduin.
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Tada! Hope it was worth the wait :)
See you next chapter. And please review? It keeps my spirits high :)