Chapter Seventeen
Attack on the River
I woke when Boromir woke; his movement disturbed me. "My lord," I whispered, and when he turned to me the look in his eyes answered my question, but I asked anyway: "Did I dream last night?"
Boromir wrinkled his brow at me. "I know not, Firiel," he replied, at the same volume, "your thoughts are still your own."
I kicked myself mentally, shaking my head. "Did I dream what passed between us last night?"
His face relaxed. "If you did, it was a dream we shared." I liked the idea of sharing dreams with him. Boromir reached the short distance between us to touch my cheek, a small caress but I smiled, taking his hand in mine and squeezing it briefly before both of us turned away to pack up.
We journeyed all that day, and all night, pausing only briefly at dusk to pass around lembas and fresh water. At dawn on the next day we made camp and slept like dead men until noon, when Aragorn roused us to drift until midnight.
This fast pace and the strange hours disagreed with me. Boromir's face grew more haggard the closer we came to our choice. Tired as I was, there were times I could not sleep, so he would hold me and stroke my hair until we fell into sleep together. Seven days out of Lorien the night sky cleared, and the benevolent beams of the crescent moon cheered all our hearts. We paddled with renewed vigor.
On the morning of the eighth day we were still paddling, with somewhat less vigor. I drowsed in the bow of the lead boat, watching the scenery change around me. We'd sailed into a land of rocks and hills. Both banks rose in steep, bramble-covered slopes. To the east and west as far as I could see cowered stubby ridges, like half-hearted mountains.
We stopped for a respite around noon. I split a lembas with Boromir, and we lay down within a handbreadth of each other. He pulled his hood over his face and appeared to sleep, but I sated up at the sky crowded with sad-gray clouds and wheeling birds. I noticed Aragorn watching too.
"Take some rest, Firiel," he said, without looking at me. I bristled at the command, but the Ranger turned to Legolas to ask if the largest bird circling us was an eagle. It looked more like a vulture to me, but the elf called it a hunting eagle. I pulled my blanket over my head, as Aragorn said we would not start until dark.
Dark seemed to arrive as soon as I'd drifted off, but being woken by Boromir's clasping my hand cheered me somewhat. I was learning to cherish these brief touches, as well as the loving glances he sent my way, as signs that I was adored by a man who thought to much of me to do anymore.
The night was still around us. "We shall journey once more by night," Aragorn began, "though this is a part of the River I do not know well. Many mile lie between us and the Rapids of Sarn Gebir, but there are other dangers in the stream." He appointed Sam lookout in the lead boat, and told him to watch for obstacles in the stream.
We hardly used our paddles, but let the current carry us. The moonless night darkened, showcasing the brilliant stars that reflected in the water below us. Beautiful, but quite boring. Around midnight, I was hunched in the stern of the last boat, drowsing, when Sam yelled ahead of us.
My head jerked up, and I saw the rocks looming in the water. Legolas and I attempted to hold the boat back with our paddles, but we were swept left. The channel was clear there, though sharp rock teeth guarded the river all around us. Our boat bumped into the other two as Boromir shouted, "Aragorn! It is madness to try the Rapids by night! No boat can survive Sarn Gebir even by day."
Aragorn ordered us back. I struggled to hold my end of the boat still while Legolas turned us around. Once turned, we made precious little headway, being drawn closer to the eastern bank. "Paddle, all of you!" Boromir called. "We will be driven on the rocks." My heart twisted with fear, but I pushed it aside. From the shore came the sound of bows. I ducked as arrows flew close over our heads. "Orcs!" cried Legolas in Elvish. Gimli echoed him in the common tongue.
I dared to sit up again, the better to paddle, trying to keep myself from worrying about Boromir. More arrows whistled above us, or struck the water around the boats. My arms ached, and we didn't seem to be getting anywhere; but the current slowly lessened, and we moved away from the eastern shore. We turned west, in the middle of the stream once more. Under overhanging branches on that bank, we caught our breath.
Legolas leaped from the boat, barely jarring it. Once on solid ground, he shrugged his bow off, looking around for an orcish target. Shrieks came from the opposite shore, but nothing moved. Clouds billowed up, obscuring the starlight. My heart chilled, and I looked once again to Boromir.
I heard Legolas whisper something, but my eyes were fixed on the shade flying out of the cloudbanks, eating up all light as it descended upon us. Orc shouts greeted the foul thing, like a dragon with bat's wings and the neck of a brontosaurus.
At last, Legolas loosed his arrow. The monster fell screaming from the sky into the darkness of the east. I felt sure the orcs on the opposite shore were swearing at us, but they sent no more arrows. When Legolas sprang back into his seat, I reached forward to grasp his shoulder in silent congratulation.
We waited for perhaps fifteen minutes before Aragorn led us back upstream. Keeping to the shore, we found a little bay guarded by a steep bank and a few scraggly trees. There we moored the boats to await daylight.
There was no place for camp or fire, so we huddled where we sat. Or most of us did. While Gimli was exclaiming over Legolas' archery, I vaulted out of the boat, splashing the short distance over to Boromir. He got out to meet me.
I had intended to ask, casually, because everyone else was listening, "You are unharmed, my lord?" What I actually got out was something like, 'You mumph--" because Boromir crushed me to him.
I gave only token protest as his arms encircled me, and then I did my best to break his ribs, too, resting my cheek on the broad chest. After a moment he held me at arm's length—to see if I had sustained any arrow wounds, I suppose.
"I am unscathed, lord," I protested, "though perhaps a bit bruised." Boromir's face fell instantly. I hurried to reassure him. "It was in jest, lord!"
The man of Gondor cleared his throat, trying to look as if he'd known all along. "Do you see now why I did not wish you to come along with us?" he growled.
I replied soberly, "Yea, lord." He shook me once, for good measure, but there was no malice in it. We returned to our boats, and I could not have said who was the more reluctant.
Attack on the River
I woke when Boromir woke; his movement disturbed me. "My lord," I whispered, and when he turned to me the look in his eyes answered my question, but I asked anyway: "Did I dream last night?"
Boromir wrinkled his brow at me. "I know not, Firiel," he replied, at the same volume, "your thoughts are still your own."
I kicked myself mentally, shaking my head. "Did I dream what passed between us last night?"
His face relaxed. "If you did, it was a dream we shared." I liked the idea of sharing dreams with him. Boromir reached the short distance between us to touch my cheek, a small caress but I smiled, taking his hand in mine and squeezing it briefly before both of us turned away to pack up.
We journeyed all that day, and all night, pausing only briefly at dusk to pass around lembas and fresh water. At dawn on the next day we made camp and slept like dead men until noon, when Aragorn roused us to drift until midnight.
This fast pace and the strange hours disagreed with me. Boromir's face grew more haggard the closer we came to our choice. Tired as I was, there were times I could not sleep, so he would hold me and stroke my hair until we fell into sleep together. Seven days out of Lorien the night sky cleared, and the benevolent beams of the crescent moon cheered all our hearts. We paddled with renewed vigor.
On the morning of the eighth day we were still paddling, with somewhat less vigor. I drowsed in the bow of the lead boat, watching the scenery change around me. We'd sailed into a land of rocks and hills. Both banks rose in steep, bramble-covered slopes. To the east and west as far as I could see cowered stubby ridges, like half-hearted mountains.
We stopped for a respite around noon. I split a lembas with Boromir, and we lay down within a handbreadth of each other. He pulled his hood over his face and appeared to sleep, but I sated up at the sky crowded with sad-gray clouds and wheeling birds. I noticed Aragorn watching too.
"Take some rest, Firiel," he said, without looking at me. I bristled at the command, but the Ranger turned to Legolas to ask if the largest bird circling us was an eagle. It looked more like a vulture to me, but the elf called it a hunting eagle. I pulled my blanket over my head, as Aragorn said we would not start until dark.
Dark seemed to arrive as soon as I'd drifted off, but being woken by Boromir's clasping my hand cheered me somewhat. I was learning to cherish these brief touches, as well as the loving glances he sent my way, as signs that I was adored by a man who thought to much of me to do anymore.
The night was still around us. "We shall journey once more by night," Aragorn began, "though this is a part of the River I do not know well. Many mile lie between us and the Rapids of Sarn Gebir, but there are other dangers in the stream." He appointed Sam lookout in the lead boat, and told him to watch for obstacles in the stream.
We hardly used our paddles, but let the current carry us. The moonless night darkened, showcasing the brilliant stars that reflected in the water below us. Beautiful, but quite boring. Around midnight, I was hunched in the stern of the last boat, drowsing, when Sam yelled ahead of us.
My head jerked up, and I saw the rocks looming in the water. Legolas and I attempted to hold the boat back with our paddles, but we were swept left. The channel was clear there, though sharp rock teeth guarded the river all around us. Our boat bumped into the other two as Boromir shouted, "Aragorn! It is madness to try the Rapids by night! No boat can survive Sarn Gebir even by day."
Aragorn ordered us back. I struggled to hold my end of the boat still while Legolas turned us around. Once turned, we made precious little headway, being drawn closer to the eastern bank. "Paddle, all of you!" Boromir called. "We will be driven on the rocks." My heart twisted with fear, but I pushed it aside. From the shore came the sound of bows. I ducked as arrows flew close over our heads. "Orcs!" cried Legolas in Elvish. Gimli echoed him in the common tongue.
I dared to sit up again, the better to paddle, trying to keep myself from worrying about Boromir. More arrows whistled above us, or struck the water around the boats. My arms ached, and we didn't seem to be getting anywhere; but the current slowly lessened, and we moved away from the eastern shore. We turned west, in the middle of the stream once more. Under overhanging branches on that bank, we caught our breath.
Legolas leaped from the boat, barely jarring it. Once on solid ground, he shrugged his bow off, looking around for an orcish target. Shrieks came from the opposite shore, but nothing moved. Clouds billowed up, obscuring the starlight. My heart chilled, and I looked once again to Boromir.
I heard Legolas whisper something, but my eyes were fixed on the shade flying out of the cloudbanks, eating up all light as it descended upon us. Orc shouts greeted the foul thing, like a dragon with bat's wings and the neck of a brontosaurus.
At last, Legolas loosed his arrow. The monster fell screaming from the sky into the darkness of the east. I felt sure the orcs on the opposite shore were swearing at us, but they sent no more arrows. When Legolas sprang back into his seat, I reached forward to grasp his shoulder in silent congratulation.
We waited for perhaps fifteen minutes before Aragorn led us back upstream. Keeping to the shore, we found a little bay guarded by a steep bank and a few scraggly trees. There we moored the boats to await daylight.
There was no place for camp or fire, so we huddled where we sat. Or most of us did. While Gimli was exclaiming over Legolas' archery, I vaulted out of the boat, splashing the short distance over to Boromir. He got out to meet me.
I had intended to ask, casually, because everyone else was listening, "You are unharmed, my lord?" What I actually got out was something like, 'You mumph--" because Boromir crushed me to him.
I gave only token protest as his arms encircled me, and then I did my best to break his ribs, too, resting my cheek on the broad chest. After a moment he held me at arm's length—to see if I had sustained any arrow wounds, I suppose.
"I am unscathed, lord," I protested, "though perhaps a bit bruised." Boromir's face fell instantly. I hurried to reassure him. "It was in jest, lord!"
The man of Gondor cleared his throat, trying to look as if he'd known all along. "Do you see now why I did not wish you to come along with us?" he growled.
I replied soberly, "Yea, lord." He shook me once, for good measure, but there was no malice in it. We returned to our boats, and I could not have said who was the more reluctant.