Chapter Three
Boromir was kept busy preparing watchmen, arranging sleeping quarters, and such jobs, so Faramir did not get the chance to speak to him again.
The next morning, Boromir and Faramir organized the troops to several posts. No fit man was spared.
As they walked from post to post, Faramir muttered to his older brother, "Boromir, are you trying to keep our father out of your mind?"
Boromir sighed, "He looms like a shadow on my heart. I feel sometimes that I will die just to gain his respect."
Faramir looked at him sadly, "He does love you, Boromir. It is I whom he despises. Next to you, I am useless in his eyes."
Boromir shifted uneasily. Neither of the brothers spoke for a while, and for once, Boromir was grateful for the call of alarm. It kept the guilt off his mind.
Orc-archers had been spotted, and it was a battle of stinging arrows. None hit anyone, until only the occasional arrow was fired.
Boromir lay hidden against a chunk of broken wall as his brother knelt beside him with an arrow ready. Faramir nodded at a Ranger next to him. The Ranger jumped the space between the rocks as an orc arrow missed him by a hair. Just as quickly, Faramir shot his arrow and was rewarded by a scream. The first kill of the day belonged to the Gondorians.
Boromir laughed as other men cheered at Faramir's aim, who in the middle of it all shot again, killing a second orc.
He ducked back down behind the stones as two Gondorian archers took his place, "You mentioned giving the men heart?" He asked with a grin.
Boromir smiled absent-mindedly, "Not that kind of inspiration. I mean something much bigger. To regain the entire city."
Faramir stared, "Father really does push you too hard."
Boromir only looked at his brother.
The end of day brought a nice sunset in the west. Some of the Gondorians believed it to be a sign. Others merely enjoyed the view. Most were talking about their success. They had, for once, not lost a single man, whereas they had killed at least two-dozen orcs. It was a boost in moral for them. Boromir found Gerhard, lying on his back in a patch of dying sunlight. He smiled at his former teacher, "A good day today. And who knows what tomorrow will bring."
Gerhard sat up, "What's on your mind?"
Boromir frowned, "I feel that this was too easy of a day. Even orcs are not so foolish as to deliberately throw away a score of their best bowmen."
Gerhard nodded, "I feel it too. There's something we've overlooked, something that we missed. Anything…"
At that moment, a scream of anguish ripped through the atmosphere. A hail of arrows slammed into the ground where the soldiers sat. One came near Boromir. It was black-feathered. Orc arrows.
It all made sense in Boromir's head. It was a diversion! The Gondorians had been lulled into an easy victory, and when they didn't expect it, the orc army had snuck into their camp.
Which meant they were now trapped.