Chapter Twenty-One
Leavetaking
With his axe, Gimli cut boughs from the surrounding trees as if chopping more orc necks, and out of the branches and our cloaks we fashioned a stretcher on which to lay Boromir's body. Painfully, I took up a corner of it with my right hand and, for once, no one objected.
We set it down on the riverbank, and, after a silent conversation with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli returned to Parth Galen for the boats. I ignored the discussion and went to sit by the River, gazing into the swift gray water and ignoring the pain under my knee and the ache in my heart.
Aragorn dropped silently beside me, and when I did notice his presence, I ignored him. When he spoke, I tried not to hear. "I had thought you a frail maiden, sent by the Lady to keep our minds away from our troubles, and Boromir's desire from the Ring. I see now that she had perhaps a higher purpose, for frail you could not be named even by the most unjust judge. You have been tested in battle, and have not broken, even when pain is coupled with the loss of one you loved."
"Love," I corrected, my voice cracking. "I love him still."
"As do I." I turned my face to Aragorn at last, and saw tear tracks fresh in the in the grime on his face. "He was my brother and friend as he was your lord and love."
His words undid me. I drew my legs painfully up to my chest and bent my head to soak the knees of my leggings with salt water. I'd cried like that when they'd brought my mother home, and never since. I had gathered up my pain since then, and now it poured out in a hot, wet rage.
Aragorn passed an arm around my back and gathered me to himself, murmuring soft elvish nothings into my hair. I imagined he calmed horses in much the same way, but I was glad for the comfort, forming as it did a sharp contrast to my hours after seeing Mum's body.
I'd locked myself in my room and cried for three hours, then tried to slit my wrists. It hadn't worked, though, because I could barely see through the unceasing flood of tears, and my hand had been shaking too badly to hold anything sharp. Finally, I'd given up, dried my eyes, and gone downstairs, swearing never to let another person hurt me that badly again. It hadn't worked.
We sat together until Legolas and Gimli returned with the boats, and with a tale to tell. "We found only two boats," Legolas called, leaping to the bank and then turning back to help Gimli out.
Aragorn inquired if the orcs had been there, and Gimli, puffing, replied that they had seen no tracks and no spoilage, and that he did not believe so. Still, Aragorn said he would look.
I watched as they lifted Boromir into one on the boats, folding his cloak for a pillow. He did indeed appear asleep. I had loved to watch his slumber, that total relaxation of façade and guard. Boromir had appeared another man, yet I had seen him leap from a sound sleep instantly, sword in hand, alert and aware, ready for anything. Now he would never rise again.
Remaining on land when Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli piled into one boat to tow the bier toward the Falls, I followed them from the shore. They paddled slowly, whether from grief or because of the combined weight, I did not know. Past Parth Galen and south, into sight of Tol Brandir, fiery in the sinking sun, I dragged myself along.
The spray from the Falls sparkled over the water, and their rumble shook the air. Into this miasma Aragorn loosed the funeral boat, and it sailed into the heart of the sun before finally disappearing. My chin sunk upon my chest, my eyes filled once more, and I crumpled to the ground. After battling the current for a long moment, the boat pulled closer to shore, allowing me to hear Aragorn's voice raised above the roar of Rauros.
He sang of a search for someone who would never return, to whom even the wind had said its final farewell. My voice is a husky, toneless alto, and I have no skill with rhyme or meter, but through my grief I could see one way left to me to honor my fallen love. I slung my pack onto the ground and pulled out the silver flute. Catching the tune, I returned it to him, pouring all of my sorrow and love into the descant. Legolas took the second verse and then Aragorn sang again, speaking of each Wind in turn except the East, which blew from Mordor.
The wind, which happened to be blowing north, carried away our final, falling note, and we returned silently to Parth Galen. Once back on the lawn, Aragorn began his Ranger act, canvassing the greensward for hobbit footprints. "No orcs have been here," he reported, "but that is small surety. We have too badly mangled the trail with our own steps to tell if any of the hobbits returned." Leaping down the slope, he examined the mud on the stream bank. "Here are clear prints, and those of a hobbit, as well. But why one should wade into the water and then back I cannot say."
"More riddles!" Gimli threw up his hands.
Aragorn ignored him in favor of returning to the campsite and looking the baggage over. He raised a shout. "Sam's pack is missing, and one other. So they have gone by boat, master and servant together. Sam would not be left behind, even on an errand as perilous as Frodo's."
"Strange, then," Gimli pointed out, "that we should be so left."
"Strange, but brave on Frodo's part. Knowing he must go to Mordor, he would not lead any friend to share his fate. His resolve was not so strong this morning, though: something decided it for him."
Had I not needed both of my feet under me, I would have scuffed my toe in the dirt. I would not speak ill of the dead, nor of the one I loved, even though I knew that his loss of control had forced Frodo's hand. And perhaps Sam's, as well.
Gimli paced about, making small chopping motions with his axe until Legolas put a hand on his shoulder to still him. "We follow Frodo, or we hunt down the orcs, with little hope of finding either quarry. We have lost precious time already."
"That time could not have been spent otherwise." Aragorn did not look at me. "Time we have not to spare, but time I must have to think, that I may chose rightly, and undo some part of the evil done this day." He stood awhile in thought. "We shall follow the orcs," he said at last. "Merry and Pippin need our aid. So may Frodo, but he has also need of stealth. Two may pass where six cannot, especially in the shadow of Mordor. The use of the Fellowship is ended, and we have need of haste." Gray eyes bored into me. "Can you run?"
"I can run," I replied, hoping he would not ask for an exhibition.
We carried the last boat into the woods and hid all the gear that could be spared beneath it. I retained most of my small pack. Then we returned to the glade where Boromir had fallen. It did not take the skills of a Ranger to find the orcs' trail.
They had hacked a great swath through tree and undergrowth alike, stretching far into the forest. Legolas touched each of the slashed branches around us mournfully, as if farewelling departed friends.
"They have a long start," Gimli grumbled again.
"We will all need strength, and endurance, if we are to have hope of catching them. But with hope or without, we will follow. Firiel," he looked to me, "set the pace."
I took a deep breath, stooped and took off. My leg, to my surprise, held my weight, and its ache removed my thoughts from the hole in my heart. My companions ranged themselves around me, and we ran.
Leavetaking
With his axe, Gimli cut boughs from the surrounding trees as if chopping more orc necks, and out of the branches and our cloaks we fashioned a stretcher on which to lay Boromir's body. Painfully, I took up a corner of it with my right hand and, for once, no one objected.
We set it down on the riverbank, and, after a silent conversation with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli returned to Parth Galen for the boats. I ignored the discussion and went to sit by the River, gazing into the swift gray water and ignoring the pain under my knee and the ache in my heart.
Aragorn dropped silently beside me, and when I did notice his presence, I ignored him. When he spoke, I tried not to hear. "I had thought you a frail maiden, sent by the Lady to keep our minds away from our troubles, and Boromir's desire from the Ring. I see now that she had perhaps a higher purpose, for frail you could not be named even by the most unjust judge. You have been tested in battle, and have not broken, even when pain is coupled with the loss of one you loved."
"Love," I corrected, my voice cracking. "I love him still."
"As do I." I turned my face to Aragorn at last, and saw tear tracks fresh in the in the grime on his face. "He was my brother and friend as he was your lord and love."
His words undid me. I drew my legs painfully up to my chest and bent my head to soak the knees of my leggings with salt water. I'd cried like that when they'd brought my mother home, and never since. I had gathered up my pain since then, and now it poured out in a hot, wet rage.
Aragorn passed an arm around my back and gathered me to himself, murmuring soft elvish nothings into my hair. I imagined he calmed horses in much the same way, but I was glad for the comfort, forming as it did a sharp contrast to my hours after seeing Mum's body.
I'd locked myself in my room and cried for three hours, then tried to slit my wrists. It hadn't worked, though, because I could barely see through the unceasing flood of tears, and my hand had been shaking too badly to hold anything sharp. Finally, I'd given up, dried my eyes, and gone downstairs, swearing never to let another person hurt me that badly again. It hadn't worked.
We sat together until Legolas and Gimli returned with the boats, and with a tale to tell. "We found only two boats," Legolas called, leaping to the bank and then turning back to help Gimli out.
Aragorn inquired if the orcs had been there, and Gimli, puffing, replied that they had seen no tracks and no spoilage, and that he did not believe so. Still, Aragorn said he would look.
I watched as they lifted Boromir into one on the boats, folding his cloak for a pillow. He did indeed appear asleep. I had loved to watch his slumber, that total relaxation of façade and guard. Boromir had appeared another man, yet I had seen him leap from a sound sleep instantly, sword in hand, alert and aware, ready for anything. Now he would never rise again.
Remaining on land when Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli piled into one boat to tow the bier toward the Falls, I followed them from the shore. They paddled slowly, whether from grief or because of the combined weight, I did not know. Past Parth Galen and south, into sight of Tol Brandir, fiery in the sinking sun, I dragged myself along.
The spray from the Falls sparkled over the water, and their rumble shook the air. Into this miasma Aragorn loosed the funeral boat, and it sailed into the heart of the sun before finally disappearing. My chin sunk upon my chest, my eyes filled once more, and I crumpled to the ground. After battling the current for a long moment, the boat pulled closer to shore, allowing me to hear Aragorn's voice raised above the roar of Rauros.
He sang of a search for someone who would never return, to whom even the wind had said its final farewell. My voice is a husky, toneless alto, and I have no skill with rhyme or meter, but through my grief I could see one way left to me to honor my fallen love. I slung my pack onto the ground and pulled out the silver flute. Catching the tune, I returned it to him, pouring all of my sorrow and love into the descant. Legolas took the second verse and then Aragorn sang again, speaking of each Wind in turn except the East, which blew from Mordor.
The wind, which happened to be blowing north, carried away our final, falling note, and we returned silently to Parth Galen. Once back on the lawn, Aragorn began his Ranger act, canvassing the greensward for hobbit footprints. "No orcs have been here," he reported, "but that is small surety. We have too badly mangled the trail with our own steps to tell if any of the hobbits returned." Leaping down the slope, he examined the mud on the stream bank. "Here are clear prints, and those of a hobbit, as well. But why one should wade into the water and then back I cannot say."
"More riddles!" Gimli threw up his hands.
Aragorn ignored him in favor of returning to the campsite and looking the baggage over. He raised a shout. "Sam's pack is missing, and one other. So they have gone by boat, master and servant together. Sam would not be left behind, even on an errand as perilous as Frodo's."
"Strange, then," Gimli pointed out, "that we should be so left."
"Strange, but brave on Frodo's part. Knowing he must go to Mordor, he would not lead any friend to share his fate. His resolve was not so strong this morning, though: something decided it for him."
Had I not needed both of my feet under me, I would have scuffed my toe in the dirt. I would not speak ill of the dead, nor of the one I loved, even though I knew that his loss of control had forced Frodo's hand. And perhaps Sam's, as well.
Gimli paced about, making small chopping motions with his axe until Legolas put a hand on his shoulder to still him. "We follow Frodo, or we hunt down the orcs, with little hope of finding either quarry. We have lost precious time already."
"That time could not have been spent otherwise." Aragorn did not look at me. "Time we have not to spare, but time I must have to think, that I may chose rightly, and undo some part of the evil done this day." He stood awhile in thought. "We shall follow the orcs," he said at last. "Merry and Pippin need our aid. So may Frodo, but he has also need of stealth. Two may pass where six cannot, especially in the shadow of Mordor. The use of the Fellowship is ended, and we have need of haste." Gray eyes bored into me. "Can you run?"
"I can run," I replied, hoping he would not ask for an exhibition.
We carried the last boat into the woods and hid all the gear that could be spared beneath it. I retained most of my small pack. Then we returned to the glade where Boromir had fallen. It did not take the skills of a Ranger to find the orcs' trail.
They had hacked a great swath through tree and undergrowth alike, stretching far into the forest. Legolas touched each of the slashed branches around us mournfully, as if farewelling departed friends.
"They have a long start," Gimli grumbled again.
"We will all need strength, and endurance, if we are to have hope of catching them. But with hope or without, we will follow. Firiel," he looked to me, "set the pace."
I took a deep breath, stooped and took off. My leg, to my surprise, held my weight, and its ache removed my thoughts from the hole in my heart. My companions ranged themselves around me, and we ran.