This is not a chapter where I write an amusing disclaimer, so I will be brief. I don't own it. Enjoy. MornieGalad
Chapter Nine: Problems and Promises
Legolas was awoken by the sound of another party of Uruk-Hai meeting the others. He forced his eyes open and was surprised to find he felt quite refreshed.
"Good morning," Aragorn greeted him. "Did you know you sang in your sleep?" Legolas nodded, a knowing look in his eyes and a smirk on his face.
"Sharkey's little problem is out of the way," one of the Uruks who had just arrived informed the head Uruk, whose name, Aragorn had discovered, was Lurtz.
"Put him with the other two," Lurtz commanded. A tall human, still struggling against his captor was dragged to the place where the two companions were resting.
"Just wait until I get my hands on that filthy, murderous, dictator who calls himself a wizard!" yelled the fiery human. "Who are you?" he asked upon seeing the elf and the man.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn."
"Legolas of Mirkwood."
"Eomer, son of Eomund of Rohan," the man told them, "or at least, what is left of Rohan."
"I suppose we should get going," Frodo said, waking from a very peaceful sleep. Gimli sighed. Leaving would mean abandoning Legolas and Aragorn to an uncertain fate. Gimli busied himself helping Boromir shove the boats into the river to keep his mind off this. The Hobbits began to pack up the food. Soon they were off down the river. Frodo watched as their campsite faded into the distance. No one spoke much. No one wanted to remember whom they had left behind or what the fates of the fellowship of the ring might now be. They must look to the path ahead. They were headed for Osgiliath. Boromir hoped that his brother, Faramir, would still be stationed there. Perhaps if he escorted the Company to Minas Tirith, he would win the favor of their father, a feat which seemed impossible for the younger son of Denethor.
The river bore the boats swiftly toward Gondor as the wind howled viciously about them. The fog had lifted enough so each personcould see the other twoboats. Merry, being the smallest of the experienced members, was placed with the supplies in the last boat. Frodo rode with Gimli, and Sam, Pippin, and Boromir led the way. Boromir spoke endlessly about the splendor of Minas Tirith and the welcome they would receive from the Steward of Gondor. It was obvious that he was not doing this for the comfort of anyone else, although it did lift Pippin's spirits a bit, but for his own sake. It was his method of not allowing himself to think of other things. Frodo, however, could think of no comfort he would rather have than the perceptive eyes of Legolas, the serious glance of Aragorn, and the tender voice of Gandalf. Alas, he could have none of those things. They had all been torn from the quest. Once, he asked Gimli to sing the song the Dwarves had sung at Bilbo's unexpected party, more than fifty years ago, in an attempt to cheer both of them. It was a good song, but Frodo found it clashed horribly with the song Galadriel had sung as they left Lothlorien, the Lament for Gandalf, or the song of Nimrodel that Legolas had sung as they entered the golden wood, all of which were alternately boring themselves into his brain. Merry, however, didn't seem to need cheering up, but was doing his best to improve Gimli and Frodo's spirits. He kept bringing his boat up beside theirs and chatting about whatever popped into his mind, mostly wondering jovially how Legolas and Aragorn would find them. This was obviously his way of coping, thought Frodo, as Gimli explained that Aragorn would head for Minas Tirith and the "no good, stupid, elf," would accompany him, since that was the only option, save Rohan, to flee to for safety or a battle, whichever he preferred. For Merry's sake, Gimli implied that it would be unbelievably safe within the borders of Gondor.
After a short time, Boromir's boat slowed. Frodo, curious as to why this was, hopefully, yet fearfully glanced over both shores. For a moment, he had dared to hope that their missing comrades had been spotted, but he saw only trees. Then he looked ahead of him. Two enormous statues stood on either side of the Anduin River. Both had one of their hands extended and kept a sword steady, the enormous point to the ground, with the other.
"Behold the Argonath! Behold Isildur and Anarion, the great lords of Gondor in the Elder days," Boromir cried.
"They sure are tall and stony," Pippin joked, trying hard to break the uncomfortable serious silence. Amid the fog which still lay upon the world, the pillars looked cold and menacing. Frodo hoped they didn't represent the Gondorians' feelings toward the fellowship, but couldn't help thinking that, stone though they were, these great men knew what was occurring. They could sense the presence of the ring. Frodo turned his head to look at the one he believed to be Isildur. He couldn't see the eyes of the gigantic statue through the fog, but he felt sure they were looking directly at him, at the ring of power around his neck, the ring that had once been on his finger.
"Soon we will come to the Falls of Rauros. Bring the boats ashore," Boromir yelled to the others, a while after passing the Argonath. Behind Frodo, Merry turned his boat skillfully and rested it on the shore. Frodo took up his paddle and began to steer the elven boat in the same direction. They began to sway dangerously. Both the dwarf and the hobbit attempted to right it, but in vain. The boat tipped and the freezing water of the Anduin closed in about them, the current beginning to pull them further down the stream.
"Frodo!" Sam shouted. Boromir quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. Not a second later, an arrow flew from the opposite shore, directlyabpve the overturned boat, skimming the place where Frodo's head would have been had the boat not flipped. Miraculously, the remainder of the fellowship was unscathed by it and the arrow became imbedded in a tree. Boromir motioned for the rest of them to get down. Before anyone could protest, Boromir stripped himself of his sword and rushed into the water. They all watched the river andthe opposite shore with baited breath, but no more arrows came. After what seemed like an eternity, Boromir emerged, dragging both Frodo and Gimli with him. Racing them to shore, he then beached the third boat, which had somehow righted itself and, amazingly, hadn't been swept away by the current.
"Are you all right, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked. Frodo nodded, still catching his breath. He collapsed against the tree with the arrow in it. Unconsciously, he glanced up at Sam and caught a glimpse of the arrow. He started with fright.
"It's all right, Mr. Frodo. That came flying out of the other side of the bank just after your boat flipped over. Everyone's fine, though. It skimmed right over where you should have been and then stuck here." Frodo lowered his head and Boromir came over.
"This is no orc arrow," he said, after examining it.
"Where's it from?" Sam asked, anxiously.
"I do not recognize it, but it's too well made for orcs, and . . ." Boromir stopped. He did not speak again, but tugged the arrow from the tree trunk and cast it out into the rapids of the Anduin.
"I think that might have been some elvish magic, Sam. The boats are trying to protect the ring. But if the orcs didn't shoot, who was it?" Frodo whispered, so no one else could hear. "I think some good power is trying to prevent us from going to Gondor, but there's no other way. We're going there for everyone's benefit. We all need a rest."
"I think you've been talking to Mister Boromir far too much, Mister Frodo, but I think I might be able to bear the burden a while, if it would help." Seeing the look of horror on his master's face, he added, "Not that I want to, understand, but you need a rest, sir, and I promised Gandalf I'd look after you. After all, Master Elrond did say the Company could share your burden. That's why he didn't send you off alone." Then, earnestly, "you need help. You cannot do this alone."
"To bear a ring of power is to be alone, Sam," Frodo said slowly. "We're going to Gondor for help."
"And you will certainly receive it, Frodo, whatever you need," promised Boromir, who was preparing the campfire behind them. Sam sighed, feeling utterly helpless.
"Just promise to tell me if you need anything," Sam said. "For Gandalf," he choked back tears on the last words.
"All right, Sam," Frodo promised. "For Gandalf."