Chapter Eight – Evil Partings
They had followed the river for two days. The Fellowship rowed sturdily for as long as daylight permitted and at night, camp would be made a short way from the Anduin's waters. Their first night, Aragorn and Arlannis noticed a floating log coming to a softly bumping stop on the opposite bank. They were being followed by the creature, Gollum, he had tracked them faithfully since his escape from the gentle captivity of the Mirkwood elves. Their subtle follower had not escaped Boromir's eye either. The man of Gondor grew more agitated with each passing day and the slightest incident stretched his already taut nerves or so it seemed to Arlannis.
Everyone's nerves were on edge, their brief stay in the haven that was Lorien could not take the enormity of their burden wholly from them. Arlannis had seen her brother and Boromir come almost to blows and the sight did nothing to ease her mind. Everyone could feel the growing threat of evil in their midst as they journeyed closer to Mordor. Frodo had become so withdrawn that he would barely speak, even to Sam, the natural exuberance of the other hobbits had become similarly muted. Only Legolas and Gimli seemed unaffected. Legolas had the natural ability of his people to withstand despair and grimness and Gimli would simply gaze upon his gift from the Lady Galadriel whenever darkness threatened his spirit.
Aragorn had the convictions of his heart with which to strengthen himself and Arlannis finally had the whole of her self returned to her. Gilraen's sword rode at her back and Arlannis would reach behind and grasp its hilt to reassure herself of its presence from time to time.
On the third day, as they approached the falls, Aragorn had the Fellowship pull their boats to shore. Arlannis knew his plan; to rest and make their way to the eastern edge under cover of darkness and approach Mordor from the north.
But as her feet touched the stony shore Arlannis felt a sick sensation in her heart as though something black and malevolent had insinuated itself inside her. She looked immediately to Legolas for confirmation and saw the same faint disgust on his face that she knew must show on hers. Their elven heritage made them sensitive to the presence of evil and now they were in perfect agreement. Something evil was approaching and was indeed almost upon them already. Legolas went to Aragorn at once, to make his concerns known, when Merry noticed that Frodo was no longer amongst them. Sam panicked and rushed off into the darkening trees to search and before they could be stopped the halflings were gone, each one racing through the trees in pursuit of their friend. But it was Aragorn's stricken glance towards Boromir's abandoned buckler that Arlannis remembered with a sharp pang of fear.
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Arlannis took direction from her brother who sent her in search of Boromir. He and Legolas along with Gimli went in pursuit of Frodo and the other hobbits. Arlannis stopped to listen, letting her elven senses guide her.
'I see your mind! You will take it to him!' she heard a voice she scarcely recognised as Boromir's so thickly was it choked with rage. Arlannis raced towards the sound to find the man of Gondor on his knees in the dead leaves, sobbing and whispering over and over, 'What have I done? What have I done?' He looked up as Arlannis came to a stop beside him and clutched at her arm. 'Have you seen Frodo?' he asked desperately. 'I have not' answered Arlannis her skin prickling with fear. Boromir's eyes were wild and some terrible dread had him in its grip.
'What happened, Boromir?' she asked as he sank back to the ground with a hopeless groan.
'I tried to take the Ring from him,' he gasped, 'we struggled and he put it on to escape me.' Boromir's face was a study in agonised shame.
Arlannis drew breath sharply and backed away from him, 'Then he has vanished and no one may find him until he takes it off,' she said sharply. 'He will draw the Great Eye upon us all!'
'Frodo?' cried Boromir aloud, 'Frodo, I'm sorry! Frodo, please!'
There was no reply from the forest. Arlannis and Boromir stared at each other in consternation. The Fellowship was broken and the quest was falling apart before their very eyes.
Arlannis turned swiftly away from him, trying to calm her rising sense of dread. She shut her eyes the better to concentrate.
'What is it?' whispered Boromir hopefully, 'can you hear him?'
Arlannis shook her head, 'No, but I can hear Merry and Pippin…'she exclaimed suddenly and drew her sword, 'Make ready Boromir, for there are Orcs close by!'
Boromir rose, 'The let us make haste, Arlannis, maybe there is something I can yet do to redeem myself.' Arlannis needed no further encouragement. Her reflexes took over and she set off at a dead run towards the high hobbit voices that as yet only she could hear. Boromir was only two steps behind her when they came upon Merry and Pippin caught near a ford with Orcs coming at them from both front and rear. Their pitifully small hobbit blades were raised and the fear of battle was writ plain on their faces.
The lead Orc was rushing at them with his crude black weapon ready to strike when Boromir charged past Arlannis to block the deadly blow. Arlannis took the second Orc in the throat with the blade of Gilraen and then swung it into the chest of another. Her heart beat wildly even as her brain worked coolly, assessing the size and strength of the enemy. These Orcs were different, bigger, faster, stronger than the ones she was accustomed to meeting on the borders of the Black Lands. There was a horrible animal intelligence about them, they acted as one and though both Boromir and Arlannis fought hard they were losing ground and time. Boromir fought like a madman, taking terrible risks and utterly careless of his own protection. He paused in his attack only to wind the horn of Gondor in the hope it would bring them aid.
The fighting was fierce, the Orcs were too many and both Boromir and Arlannis were growing tired. Merry and Pippin were of no use, their size precluding them from joining the fray. They stayed behind the Ranger and the warrior and yelled warning and encouragement as appropriate.
Arlannis' heart leaped in her throat as an arrow sped past her ear and hit Boromir in the chest. Time slowed as she saw the enemy converge on the wounded warrior. Her heart leapt with his blade as it rose and parried a blow from the nearest Orc and then cut it down. Another rushing sound filled the air and Boromir shuddered as the next arrow embedded itself in his torso. He sank to his knees gasping for breath and then the hobbits, pushed to the brink of their endurance, drew their bright little blades and yelled defiance.
Arlannis battled now with renewed desperation, their time was up and if she had to die in the hobbits' defence, then she was determined to cut down as many of the filthy Orcs as she could. The blade of Gilraen sang as she fought and tears filled her eyes as the sound of arrows hitting flesh came again and again. The enemy closed in, her senses filled with foul breath, sharp teeth and black skin. The hilt of a blade connected with her head, her vision swam, the high-pitched voices of the hobbits faded and Arlannis sank into blackness. The last words she heard were in the tongue of Mordor, 'A Ranger! A filthy Ranger!'
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