Chapter 7

Boromir just barely kept himself from roaring in despair when he spied his younger brother's body lying discarded in the leaf litter, no part of him unbloodied. Rushing to his side, the warrior forced himself to check Faramir's neck for a pulse. Relieved when he at last could feel it weakly beating beneath his fingertips, the warrior spoke softly to his little brother, sweeping a gentle hand across Faramir's pale, sweaty brow. He was unsuccessful in keeping his voice steady as he quickly took inventory of the ranger's countless injuries. "Eru's tears!" he gasped in horror when he discovered the mass of bloody welts upon his brother's bare back. "Oh, Fara, what has happened to you?" With tender care, Boromir removed his heavy, sable cloak and wrapped Faramir's still form within its warmth, leaving the ranger lying upon his right side.

Glancing around to ensure himself that they yet remained alone, Boromir scanned his surroundings, noting that there were six dead orcs lying here, but the only weapon that was near Faramir was an orc blade coated in red blood instead of the black blood of orcs. Boromir seriously doubted that the ranger would have had the strength to wield this heavy blade as badly injured as he was, and these kills were fresh. Something did not seem right here.

Boromir stood up, ready for trouble, some sixth sense alerting him that he and his brother were not alone.

"Come out," he hissed, holding his sword at the ready as his eyes scanned the area. He was unwilling to raise his voice, uncertain of how many enemies that might bring down upon Faramir and himself. "I know you are nearby. Show yourself!"

From the underbrush came a rustling noise, faint at first but growing in intensity, and Boromir whirled to face it, placing himself between the sound and his injured brother. Orcs began to pour forth from the forest, and the warrior raised the Horn of Gondor to his lips and blew it with all of his breath, summoning all within its call to their aid. Knowing that there was no reason to keep quiet any longer, Boromir shouted in rage, slipping easily into killing mode, trotting forward to meet his enemy, wanting to keep space between them and Faramir.

Out of the corner of his eye, the warrior glimpsed a sudden movement, as seemingly from nowhere appeared a hooded figure, clad all in black, who fought beside him. Boromir could not spare any time to wonder at this new arrival, and since the figure seemed to be on his side, he fought all the harder against the orcish onslaught, knowing that he now had a chance of victory. He did note that the lithe figure fought gracefully with two knives in a style unfamiliar to him and did so very effectively. Battling together without words, they pulled back until they were nearly standing atop Faramir, and then they fought back-to-back, slaying any of the creatures that were brave or stupid enough to approach their position.

It was not long at all before the rangers quietly arrived, and Boromir breathed a sigh of relief as the remaining orcs were driven back, and felled by arrows as they fled. The warrior turned to thank his unexpected helper, but found no one standing at his back. He looked around in confusion only a moment more before kneeling again next to his badly injured brother.

Shouting orders to the men around him, he demanded things to be brought that would be needed to make Faramir more comfortable and stable enough to be transported to the White City. He was very worried about all of the blood that covered his brother's body, most especially that which was leaking from his nose and mouth. Faramir had at last been found, and Boromir was beside himself with worry, afraid that help had arrived too late to save his little brother. So it was shocking when Faramir opened his eyes a little, taking a very ragged breath while his uninjured hand sought his brother's, before he spoke.

"Bo? Is it . . . truly you?" In his weakness, Faramir's voice, though thick with blood and pain, sounded years younger to Boromir, and the warrior had great difficulty hiding his tear-filled eyes from him, not wanting to alert Faramir to the danger that he was in, as Boromir assured his brother that he had been found. "Where . . . ?" the ranger started to ask, but he had to pause to take another painful breath.

Boromir tried to smile. "Peace, Fara. Rest now. You are in good hands, for some of your rangers have come to your aid, little brother."

"I rest in . . . good hands . . . as long as . . . I am . . . with you."

Boromir tried to shush Faramir as more cloaks were offered for the young lieutenant's comfort, and then a waterskin was brought to the warrior, and he gave his brother a few small sips to drink. Faramir coughed weakly before again he spoke. "Where . . . is she?"

"Who, Fara?" asked Boromir, before realizing that Faramir must be speaking of the hooded figure who had appeared and then disappeared in the span of a few short minutes. He silenced his brother with the light touch of a finger upon his bloodied lips. "I saw her but do not know where she has hidden herself for the nonce. Now, be silent, I beg you, Fara. Keep still until we can find a way to fetch you home safely."

"But I . . . need her," the youngest breathed.

Boromir was having trouble holding his voice steady before these other men. He shouted more orders to mask it, knowing that a wain couldn't be fetched any more quickly no matter how loudly he spoke. Turning his attention back to Faramir, he gently stroked the ranger's cheek. "She is no longer here, dear brother."

"I . . . need her, for . . . she holds. . . ."

"Did she take something from you, little one? Did she hurt you?" Boromir asked in consternation, using the nickname he had called Faramir when they were just young boys. The warrior was becoming more concerned as Faramir seemed to grow more frantic.

"Oh, Bo," sobbed the ranger hoarsely. "She has . . . taken my . . . soul!"

The warrior would have laughed if the situation had not been so grim. "Fara, whatever do you mean?" Boromir meant the words to be soothing. "No one can hold that power over you, brother."

"But . . . she does. . . . Bo, please . . . find her." His little brother's grey eyes were dull with pain, but Boromir thought that Faramir seemed lucid enough, though it appeared that the struggle to draw enough air into his lungs to keep himself conscious and speaking was quickly becoming too difficult to achieve. "She fears . . . only . . . the loss . . . of her . . . freedom. . . ."

"Please, Fara," Boromir nearly sobbed as he begged his brother to quiet himself. "I cannot stand to see you suffer thusly." He stroked the ranger's cheek. "Close your eyes now and rest. I promise that I shall see to your friend."

Faramir nodded and faded back into unconsciousness, and Boromir patted his brother's now limp hand once before he stood, turning in a circle, hoping to catch sight of the female in black that his brother seemed to think so important. He had not yet spied her when a litter arrived, and the warrior was obliged to aid them as ever so gently, the Men transferred Faramir onto it.

Though he had promised to find the woman, Boromir would not leave Faramir's side. Taking a corner of the litter, he helped the rangers lift their precious cargo and tote him to the road through the dense growth of the forest.