I knew it. I knew we should not have journeyed through the Mines of Moria. The Gap of Rohan, even it would have been closer to Isengard and thus to Saruman, would have been safer. At least we know what to expect on the ground and under sky.
Yet we, the Fellowship, chose to journey through the Mines of Moria — not over Cahadras, as we had tried, "not over the mountain, nor around it, but under it."
The Fellowship had been traveling for days. I am of the nine who travel to destroy the Ring, although my opinion is that we should still use the Ring to destroy Sauron's forces. It seems that I am alone in that opinion.
Other than I, there are eight others. Four are Hobbits: short, peaceful folk they are, and I have only heard of them briefly and not in great detail. Frodo Baggins, the oldest, bears the Ring. He is small, and I do not know how he will protect it if he is attacked alone. But I see he has great courage, and so I let the matter be.
The other Hobbits are Samwise Gamgee, some sort of servant to Frodo, and Frodo's cousins, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, also called Merry and Pippin. Sam is the one who does all the cooking, and I do not think so greatly of him, but Merry and Pippin is rather like my younger brother at home when he feels elated. They are young, careless, but fun-loving people, those Hobbits.
There is an Elf and a Dwarf in our company, as well. The Elf, Legolas, seems to be a Prince in his own realms, Mirkwood, for he is the King's son. Gimli is a Dwarf, and I think his lines go back to Misty Mountains, which we were heading for. I have never been in the company of Elves until I was in Rivendell, for the alliance of Elves and Humans are broken. Legolas is fair, and a superior warrior, but he seems — distant, and more linked to nature than to humans, like other Elves. Only Gandalf and Aragorn seem to be able to get through him. Gimli is another good warrior to have at your side. Stout and armed with his battleaxe, he seems to be the exact opposite of the Elf, yet he loves caves and crafting. Legolas and Gimli seem to be friendly enemies. Must be the broken alliance between them.
Gandalf is the Wizard. He is called Mithrandir, and once, the White Rider, in Gondor, and we know him well. He has helped Gondor out many times in history, and I do not usually doubt his wisdom. His council is greatly appreciated, and he seems a lord among the Elves. But my father seems cold to him, and I do not know why. My grandsire, Ecthelion the Second, had approved and welcomed his council after a Gondorian captain, Thorongil, his name was, advised him. I think that might be why, as I have heard that my father and Thorongil were unintentioned rivals.
The last member of the Fellowship is Aragorn. Strider he was called, of at least I knew of him, before revealing his true lineage at the council in Rivendell…. I remember the discussion even now. We had been talking of the ways to destroy the Ring, and I had come up with a new suggestion…
"It is a gift. A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring?" I had asked the council. I got up and started to pace around. "Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe!" It was true. Many warriors died each day to keep the armies of Mordor back. I myself had been in many battles. "Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"
It was then I had seen Aragorn. I had seen him the day before, when I had been examining the shards of Narsil. His eyes… They were silver fires. I had walked away, for his gaze was not too friendly. Now he responded back, "You cannot wield it! None of us can. It answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."
I had felt angry then. Who was he? "And what would a Ranger know of this matter?"
One Elf stood up. Later I knew him to be Legolas. "This is no mere ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."
"Aragorn… This… is Isildur's heir?" Shocked, I stopped my pacing and gazed at the "Ranger," who met it coolly.
"And heir to the throne of Gondor." Legolas continued. Heir to the throne, indeed. Isildur and his heirs have been absent from their duty. It was the Stewards who should take the throne; they had been protecting the city for years!
"Havo dad, Legolas," Aragorn muttered, shooting a warning glance. So he was Elf-raised and best friends with an Elf.
"Gondor needs no King," I shot back. The Stewards can do their duty, unlike you."Gondor has no King."
There had seemed to be a long silence before the council continued.
Even now I am confused about him. I admit he is the best swordsman one could ever hope to be, and he is wise. But he has not been to Gondor. He is not doing his duty… To lead his people and protect his city. And what about I, my brother, and my father? The Stewards have protected the throne and the city for a long time, being trustworthy and "ruling" well, even in this time of darkness and danger. What would happen then?
He is clearly of Numenorean and Gondorian race, but strangely he is the farthest away from me in the Fellowship. It is rather Mithrandir, or Gandalf, and Merry and Pippin that I am more familiar with.
And what of the Ring? They do not listen to me. They should. Without the Ring the city of Gondor will crumble into ashes. What then, Ranger from the North? What then, Aragorn, son of Arathron? What will you do then? Do you understand me? My intentions?
Aragorn seems more bent on destroying the Ring, however, rather than saving his city. He is unlike any other Gondorian or Numenorean man I have ever seen before. Sometimes I see a glint of bemusement, confusion, anger, sorrow, and determination in his silver-blue-green eyes, all at once. Then I wonder I had been too harsh in his judging. He wants to do what he thinks is right, but there are two and he is only a mortal, despite his extended life. To do one thing is to fail the other. When I think that I feel closer to him, like kin, but then his eyes become hard once more.
When we were passing over Cahadras, Frodo — who was nearly at the end of the line and looking tired — tripped over the snow. I reached to help him up, but after Frodo got up, he started looking for something. Of course… The Ring. I spied it, and took it from the ground; it had been hidden by the snow.
The Ring is a plain gold ring, in first looks not very special. But it had the power to save Gondor. The power to save my city, my people…
Apparently I had been holding it for too long, for the Fellowship stared and Aragorn sharply said, "Give the Ring back to Frodo, Boromir."
I had meant to give the Ring back to Frodo, before that. I really had. I didn't know what had come over me: a rage of emotions and thoughts, but only one thought stood above them all: It has the power to save your city and people… And men will flock to your banner! I stared at it once more. "It is a strange fate we should suffer so much fear and doubt…over so small a thing. Such a little thing…" This Ring had split alliances, ruined cities, killed people…
But it had also given power and glory to those who had wielded it.
"Boromir!"
"As you wish," I nodded, handing over the Ring, but my fingers wouldn't give it up completely. I saw Frodo looking at me, his face tortured. "…I care not." Aragorn was a fool. Is a fool. He can claim the Ring if he wants to; he is of Isildur's line. And he could take it by force, as well, I do not disagree that he is physically strong. I admit that he would be a fine captain to serve under, and with the Ring finer.
What drives him not to touch the Ring?
On the second day of Moria, Gandalf and I had a talk. I went over to him, and asked: "How many more days until we reach the end?" I knew the answer already. It was only the continuing silence that unnerved me; forced me to speak with somebody.
The others were already asleep; even Legolas and Aragorn had seemed tired earlier and had gone into sleep or dream-like trance.
"Two days," replied the Wizard. Only I had the first watch, but Mithrandir did not seem to sleep. "You are worried, Boromir, son of Denethor?"
"Perhaps," I muttered. I was not worried. I was concerned.
"It is him, is it not?"
"Who do you mean by him, Mithrandir?"
"You know very well whom I mean, Boromir," Mithrandir's words cut like glass, and his eyes, as well, was all knowing, or so it seemed. "Aragorn. Are you afraid he will take the throne? Are you afraid of what he truly is?"
I stood up. He was reading me like an open book. "No," I said hastily. I have known Gandalf for some years, and knew that it would be no use to lie. I sighed, and told the truth. "Yes. I do not understand what he is… other than a heir of Isildur. I often wonder for my city, Mithrandir. I fear Gondor is falling."
Gandalf had been silent for a few seconds. "We will all hope that that day is not near," he murmured softly. "Boromir — Aragorn can help you and Gondor."
"It does not seem he can."
"Trust him. He was born to be a leader, an heir, a king. You cannot deny him for what he is." Gandalf sighed. "I have known him for many years. Many times he have saved me, and many times I see he can follow his path. So can you, Boromir. Do not fear who will help you in the end." He steadied his dark blue-black eyes upon me, and then sighed once more.
"Get some sleep. This watch is nearly over, and I will take the next one. We will have a long walk next day."
But tired as I was, I did not close my eyes for some time. What Gandalf had said remained in my head, echoing.
We are resting at Lorien borders. Terrible tidings have befallen us… Mithrandir is gone. He has battled a shadow of the past, a Barlog. "Shadow and Flame" is what Legolas and Aragorn calls it. But Mithrandir has died in glory, I think, for he has lead and guided the Fellowship until now.
As we got out, all of us blinked, and then started grieving, each in our own way. The bright light of the day seemed so… unreal, compared to Moria's dark halls and situations. Sam, Merry, and Pippin started sobbing, trying to console each other. Frodo was nowhere to be seen. Gimli threw himself on me, and I vainly tried to calm him as he expelled all his emotions. Legolas stood transfixed, staring out into the woods and mountains far beyond here. I do not think he understands death completely. Such is with the Immortals.
Aragorn wiped his sword and sheathed it. Calling to Legolas, he said, "Legolas, get them up." His face seemed emotionless except his eyes.
So now was he heartless as well? He seemed to have claimed Gandalf's role as leader and guide. "Give them a minute, for pity's sake!" I shouted. I was trying hard for the tears not to flow. Gandalf had been well-loved, both here and in Gondor.
Aragorn responded: "By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs! We must reach the woods of Lothlórien. Come, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, get them up." He reached down to Sam, offering his hand. I had to agree that he had a good reason. "Sam, get up." He then started looking for Frodo. "Frodo? Frodo!"
Frodo was crying silently. Never have I seen grief and sorrow on his face as he.
Aragorn led us into Lorien, and even now he is conferring with Haldir, the Marchwarden, to let us pass.
"Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion," Haldir welcomed Legolas, his own kin, first. Legolas said back, "Govannas vîn gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien." He then turned to Aragorn. "A, Aragorn in Dúnedain istannen le ammen." I do not know what they said, as they spoke in the fair tongue of Elves.
"Haldir," replied Aragorn, bowing his head. It seemed that Haldir, Aragorn, and Legolas knew each other from long ago.
It was Gimli who spoke aloud my mind. "So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves! Speak words we can also understand!"
Haldir, a being with silvery hair and distant blue eyes, turned to the Dwarf coolly. "We have not had… dealings… with the Dwarves since the Dark Days."
"And you know what this Dwarf says to that? Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul!" Gimli clearly did not like Elves.
Aragorn turned sharply to him. It seemed that he knew the Dwarven language as well. "That was not so courteous," he warned, raising his eyebrows. (That act seemed familiar. I then was reminded of Lord Elrond.)
Haldir paid no attention to Gimli. Instead he glanced over at Frodo. "You bring great evil with you," he muttered, his slightly cold voice colder. "You cannot go farther." Aragorn's face darkened with indignity. They started arguing in Elvish. Legolas stood by Aragorn, offering some phrases now and then. "Boe ammen veriad lîn. Andelu i ven!" Aragorn argued.
Haldir whispered back something.
"Merin le telim." Aragorn's voice was now pleading. Legolas sighed and sat some distance away, letting Aragorn take over completely. Aragorn nodded slightly to Legolas, perhaps in thanks, but he never took his eyes off Haldir. "Henio, aníron boe ammen i dulu lîn!"
Legolas looked over at Frodo, who avoided his gaze uncomfortably. The other hobbits also gazed at him in confusion. Ever since Gandalf had fallen, everybody now seemed so… alone. Separated.
I moved over to Frodo. "Gandalf's death was not in vain...nor would he have you give up hope. You carry a heavy burden, Frodo...don't carry the weight of the dead." I hoped that my words will comfort him.
Aragorn and Haldir are still arguing… In the end probably Aragorn will convince Haldir to let us pass… I think Gandalf was right. And I still wonder: he was wise in so many things. He was rightin so many things. Why he has fallen into the shadows I do not know.