HELLO EVERYONE! I'M BACK! am sooo sorry this chapter of the story took so long. My father's company organized a three days two nights family camp in another state, so there wasn't much time. While I enjoyed myself there very much, I still itched to get back to my story. The reason was because of all those wonderful reviews I received! They made me feel so bad for not updating and keeping you all waiting… The second reason was because of my best friend on the site, Alone on the water, my sister in all but blood has been writing the crossover I have mentioned, and I have been kept busy editing and helping her with it. Its really great…
So anyway, I don't want to tire you with all my excuses… I AM SO FREAKING HAPPY! Why? Check out how many followers and favorites this story has! 75 FAVORITES and 112 FOLLOWERS! I AM SO HAPPY! YOU GUYS ARE SOOO AWESOME! Now if only everyone of them would leave a review…(wink wink, nudge nudge ;P)
ALSO, I HAVE 185 REVIEWS! THAT'S A BIG NUMBER! ITS SOOOO CLOSE TO 200! Do you think we can make it, guys? :D
Again, thanks to Alone on the Water(my sister and beta) for helping with some parts of the chapter and giving me the idea of the note, and thank YOU all for reading! I really hope you tell me what you think! Nothing excites a budding author more than feedback from readers.
So anyway, here's the next chapter of my story. This chapter is intense… so many emotions running high… I am personally very proud of the fight scene I inserted in there. I really hope you all like it!
ON WITH THE TALE!
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Aragorn
Today is the day we leave. Aragorn packed his travelling bag and strapped his sword back to his waist. Aragorn had often wished that he would not have to leave this peaceful place. Here lay the golden heart of the elves, and here his heart would have dwelled forevermore, if not for the threat of the Ring. He sighed and walked out of his rooms, descending to the bottom of the tree. Boromir was there waiting with Legolas and Gimli, who seemed to have totally abandoned his prejudices and had become friends with many of the elves. Frodo was there too, clutching something on his neck, and Sam, who was busy checking and rechecking that he had remembered everything. Merry and Pippin were mainly wandering around as usual, waiting. All of them had already packed for the journey ahead, with rugged travelling clothes and wooden staffs. He found Percy, Annabeth and Nico laughing in a room while Thalia muttered curses from the floor. Apparently Thalia had sat up from her hammock, overbalanced and fell down. He chuckled and watched as she got up, cursing her friends and throwing her stuff into her pack.
The demigods had caused quite a scene yesterday, when Haldir had wished to watch them spar. The entire forest had been awestruck by great displays of lightning and wind, earthquakes, storms, the creek rising, skeletons fighting, and Annabeth's amazing knife skills. Haldir had even challenged Annabeth to a brief duel. He was shocked to find himself disarmed and a knife put to his throat in under a minute. Fortunately, Haldir was a good sport, and had laughed along with the watching elves. The demigods were certainly very, very powerful. Aragorn knew the fate of Middle Earth could very well depend on them. The demigods had even gained Elvish titles in the short time that they had been here. The elves dubbed Percy Gaeralogos, Sea Storm. Annabeth became Maeneth, which essentially had meant Wise Woman. Farothwen was Thalia, the Huntress, while Nico received the name Daechir, Shadow Lord. Each of them seemed pleased with their new names.
After they were all packed and ready to go, the Fellowship walked through the forest together in silence. Aragorn felt a pang as he counted the Fellowship once again to find one missing. Gandalf. He knew he was alive, but the news of his captivity and torture were distressing and grave indeed. There was another burden pressing on Aragorn's mind. East or West. Mordor lay to the East; Minas Tirith lay to the West. He had not yet decided a course. Boromir's sour words rang in his heart. Some words he had said a few days ago, before they had entered Lothlorien. 'You trust the other races more than you trust your own people. Wizards, elves and dwarves, but not us men. 'Those words troubled his heart greatly, even if he didn't show it. He couldn't decide what to do. The choice was too dangerous, the consequences if he chose wrong too great.
Beyond Lothlorien, he did not know what Gandalf had intended to do. Gandalf had been the leader; he would have already had a plan. His own plan, while Gandalf had still been with them, had been to go with Boromir, and with his sword help to deliver Gondor from her enemies, but since the tragedy in Moria, the burden of leadership had been laid on him; and he knew that he could not now forsake the Ring. If Frodo refused in the end to go with Boromir, what could he do but lead the Fellowship into Mordor? Yet, what help could he or any of the company give to Frodo, save to walk blindly with him into the darkness? Aragorn felt divided in heart and mind. If Frodo chose to go to Mordor, then he would have to choose the Quest over his own plans. He would have gone with him to the very end, even to the fires of Mordor. It would be a huge sacrifice, but one he would have been willing to make. After all, is it not the duty of the King to ensure the safety of his Kingdom above all? Aragorn's heart should have felt settled, but in truth… it was more in turmoil than ever.
They were led by an elf to the pavilion where they had first been taken to on the first day, and one he had been to many times before. There, Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel waited for them. Lord Celeborn cleared his throat. "Now is the time, when those who wish to continue the Quest must harden their hearts to leave this land. Those who no longer wish to go forward may remain here for a while." Aragorn understood. He was offering them a choice, testing their resolve. When his turn came, he returned Lord Celeborn's gaze steadily. His heart swelled with pride to see that none of the Company backed down, not even the youngest hobbit.
For the first time, Celeborn's impassive face broke into a small smile. "It does my heart proud to see that there is hope in Middle Earth still. So you have all resolved to go forward." He further studied them, and then continued. "I have spoken to Aragorn and Boromir, and I see that you do not yet know what to do. It is not my part to choose for you; but I will help you as I may. I will furnish your Company with boats. They must be small and light, for if you go far by water, there are places where you will be forced to carry them. Boats may make your journey less toilsome for a while, yet they will not give you counsel, in the end you must leave them and the river, and turn west…or east." Aragorn was very glad for the gift of the boats, for they delayed his choice for a few more days. He knew there would be a very great possibility that the Fellowship of the Ring would be split at Amon Hen, thus he was glad they would stay together, if only for a little longer.
Together, they walked slowly towards the fringe of the forest, beside the great river. Four graceful elven boats bobbed in the flowing water, with many elves stocking the boats with provisions for a long journey. Aragorn didn't miss the way Percy's eyes lit up when he saw the boats, and he grinned at Sam and Nico's horrified expressions. Apparently they had no love for boats. Aragorn was glad and relieved to see the elves packing in many rolls of lembas bread, which would be an enormous help. It was a special bread made by the elves with a sweet flavor and miraculous properties. A cake of it would sustain a traveler for an entire day's march.
"Though you have been our guests," said Celeborn, "you have not yet eaten with us, and we bid you, therefore, to a parting feast. "He invited.
Aragorn exchanged a look with Percy and Boromir, whom he now considered the co-leaders of the group. The look spoke volumes. Boromir was eager to be on his way, while Percy was always ready for another meal. A small smile played on his lips as he realized just how close they had become, to be able to read responses from just a glance. Being in several life-or-death situations and saving each other's lives many times over certainly bonded a group like nothing else could in a short time. They reached an agreement, and Aragorn bowed respectfully to Lord Celeborn. "Le fael (Thank you/you are generous), Lord Celeborn. We would be honored."
The feast was a rather grand affair on a beautiful boat with a prow shaped like a swan's head. The boat was enormous, and amazing, with gold engravings and a huge dining table on the deck. As usual, they ate only fruits, vegetables and bread, in accordance to the customs of the elves. Aragorn smothered a wide grin when he heard Nico, Gimli and the hobbits groaning at the "green food". The meal was mostly silent, each member lost in thought. There was a surreal quality to this time, as everyone knew it may very well be the last time they would set eyes on each other in living form again.
At the end to the feast, Lady Galadriel rose gracefully. "We have drunk the cup of parting, and the shadows fall between us. But before you go, I have brought on my ship gifts which the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim now offer you in memory of Lothlorien."
She presented all of the Fellowship with elven cloaks made of a heavy, soft material that seemed to shimmer and blend into the background. They were grey as twilight under the trees, but when held against the trees, they were green as leaves; brown as fields by night. When it was held it against the water, it was silver as flowing water. Aragorn put the cloak on and marveled at how comfortable it felt. The cloaks would keep them warm and protect them at the same time. "These cloaks were woven by my handmaidens and myself. They will serve to hide you from danger, and you will find an arrow or a knife does not easily penetrate the material."
Woven by the Lady herself? This is a high honor indeed! Overcome, Aragorn knelt before Galadriel. "Le fael, Hiril vuin. Ci fêl." (You are generous, My Lady. Thank you)
He felt the Lady lay a hand on his shoulder, and he rose. "Is there aught else you desire of me at our parting? For it may be that we shall never meet again."
There was only one thing in his mind. "Lady, you know all my desire. You know what is it I seek, yet it is not yours to give me, even if you would; and only through darkness shall I come to it." The throne of Gondor. The throne of Elendil, and Isildur. It was time for him to claim it.
"Yet maybe this will lighten your heart," said Galadriel, "For it was left in my care to be given to you, should you pass through this land." She held out a clear, green jewel, set in silver with the likeness of an eagle with outspread wings. Aragorn's eyes widened. Could it be…?"In this hour, take this token of hope foretold for you, Elessar, the Elfstone of Elendil!" Aragorn was, to use a phrase the demigods had used, struck dumb. The Elfstone of the house of Elendil. The token of kingship. There were no words to say. He looked gratefully into the eyes of Celeborn and Galadriel, and they understood his unspoken thanks.
The time passed in a blur. Aragorn saw Boromir given a golden belt intricately wrought with the design of interlacing leaves. Boromir, too was overcome by such generosity. Legolas and Thalia received bows of the Galadhrim, carved of the finest wood, and strung with elf hair. Merry and Pippin received elven knives enchanted with many spells against evil, and a silver brooch in the shape of a leaf. Gimli had shown a poetic, eloquent side that none knew existed, and had requested only for three golden hairs of the Lady to remember her and the elves by. Nico and Percy were given shirts of mithril to protect them in battle, with their names spelt in elven runes. Percy's was blue, Nico's was black. Much to their amusement, Annabeth had chosen a book of compiled elvish poems, with a small translation guide. To Sam, the Lady gave him strong elven rope, and a box of soil from Lorien. Lastly, Frodo was given the light of Earendil, a phial which would light their path when all other lights go out. Aragorn was deeply grateful for all these gifts. The elves had indeed chosen to honour them greatly.
Together, they thanked the Lord and Lady profusely for their great generosity, and they laughed and talked. But all things must eventually come to an end, and with a heavy heart, the Fellowship of the Ring got onto the boats, and slowly began rowing away from the fair land of Lorien. Aragorn knew that many of them would never come back again, and so he allowed his boat to drift, their eyes fixed on the fading shoreline, until they came to a bend in the river, and they saw it no more. Aragorn picked up his paddle and began to row, away from the green forest, to the brown wilderland ahead.
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Boromir
"Last one to Amon Hen has to cook dinner!" Thalia's gleeful shout rang through open surface of the river.
Boromir groaned mentally, Trust those demigods to turn everything into a competition. Nevertheless, a wide grin grew on his face, and he began to row faster, trying to catch up with the rest. Merry and Pippin immediately took up a chant, yelling "Row…Faster! Row…Faster! Row…Faster!" they jumped around so much they nearly overturned the boat. Boromir just laughed and started rowing as fast as he could, following the chant. Aragorn's boat was in the lead, with Sam and Frodo on it. Aragorn handled the paddle skillfully, as if he had done this many times before. Nobody was rowing in Percy, Annabeth and Nico's boat, yet it was cutting through the water at an impressive speed. Legolas, Gimli and Thalia in the third. The two archers cheerfully discussed archery tactics and techniques while the strong dwarf rowed with powerful strokes. Taking up the rear was his boat, with Merry and Pippin still chanting and bouncing excitedly. He grinned. This would be fun.
Two days had passed since they had left the land of Lorien. Truthfully, Boromir wasn't too sad to leave. The land was beautiful, yes; they had rested well too, and the elves were a good and generous folk. But Boromir could not feel comfortable there. The land had been too strange, the people too different, for him to settle. All in all, he was grateful for their gifts and hospitality, but no, he would not wish to return. All he wanted was to see his beloved city again. Boromir did some quick calculations in his head. By his reckoning, they would reach Amon Hen in another three hours, and then they would have to make a choice. West…or East. East or West. Mordor or Minas Tirith. Certain Death or Fortified City. Destroy the weapon, or use it. Boromir's head ached.
Thalia gave an excited whoop as their boat overtook Percy's, but he just grinned and lay back in relaxation, making a twirling motion with his fingers. Legolas and Thalia shrieked with indignation as their boat suddenly stopped moving, and the water pushed the boat to become the last in line. Percy's boat, meanwhile, shot forward suddenly at near impossible speeds, easily overtaking Aragorn's boat. Boromir chuckled. Never choose to fight an opponent in his own domain, eh? He picked up speed, ignoring the shouts of protest and good-natured insults from the last boat.
The race lasted for nearly two hours until the contestants became too exhausted to carry on. The winner, obviously had been Percy. Aragorn and Boromir managed to tie for second place, while Thalia, Legolas and Gimli were dead last. Well… I heard that Thalia was a huntress once. I hope she has decent cooking skills, for Gimli and Legolas are hopeless at it…Boromir would have expected them to be angry and resentful, but they were laughing and congratulating Percy. They really are different from us. Boromir could honestly say he had enjoyed himself. How long had it been since he had had some normal fun with Faramir? Not since his brother had left for Ithilien… Being the son of Denethor forced you to grow up much faster than normal children…
Suddenly, Aragorn and Percy stopped rowing. A hush descended upon the group. Boromir looked up, surprised at the sudden silence. What he saw made him gasp in shock and awe.
The Argonath. The Pillars of the Kings. Two great statues like towering three hundred feet pinnacles loomed over the boats with power and majesty. He had heard stories about the great statues of Isildur and Anarion, the two sons of Elendil at the Northern Border of Gondor, but to see them with his own eyes… it was truly, truly awe inspiring. At the end of the tall cliffs at both sides of the river, they stood. Holding a sword in one arm, the other outstretched towards the enemies of Gondor in a gesture of defiance. The silent sentinels. In the other boat, Aragorn whispered something to himself, and stood tall. Suddenly, years of toil and weariness seemed to fall off him, and he stood tall, the elfstone gleaming on his chest. For the first time, Boromir saw the King instead of the Ranger. His King. He suddenly realized that Aragorn was standing before this great monument to his ancestors. Isildur and Anarion. Boromir bowed his head in respect.
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"None of us should wander alone, you least of all. So much depends on you, Frodo." He watched the young hobbit stumble backwards. One hand straying to his blade, which was glowing a faint blue, the other hand straying to his neck, where a gleam of gold escaped. The Ring…. A sudden desire to seize it came upon him, but he resisted. This…must…be…his choice. But the voice was growing fainter. The ring was singing to him, drawing him in. a fog seemed to come upon his mind. He saw the Ring in his mind's eye, calling to him. The lure of the ring, which he had felt for the entire journey grew stronger still. So far, he had been able to keep himself from falling, but now… he couldn't think. He needed the ring. He kept his face kind and benevolent.
"I know why you seek solitude. You suffer. I see it day by day. Are you sure you do not suffer needlessly? Will you not take my counsel?" The hobbit stood silent. Boromir listened to the Falls of Rauros roaring and the wind murmuring in the trees for a moment, then, seeing that the hobbit still remained unresponsive, continued his entreaty. "There are other ways, Frodo…other paths that we might take." Boromir pleaded. The pull of the ring was getting stronger. He needed the Ring. Something in him was fighting the urge, but it seemed to steadily dwindle in volume and force.
For the first time, the hobbit spoke. "I know what you would say, and it would seem like wisdom except for the warning of my heart."
Boromir frowned. "Warning? Against what?" He started towards Frodo, but the hobbit hurriedly stepped back.
"Warning against delay, against the way that seems easier. Against refusal of the burden that is laid on me. I know what it is I should do, but I am afraid of doing it, Boromir. Afraid."
Boromir's patience was rapidly fading. He wanted the Ring NOW! It should have been his! This hobbit was severely trying his patience, but again he stilled himself. "We are all afraid, Frodo. But to let this fear drive us to destroy what hope we have…Don't you see this is madness?"
"There is no other way." The hobbit stood his ground.
Boromir lost his patience. Angrily, he threw the pile of wood he had collected on the forest floor. "All I ask for is the strength to defend my people! What could not a mighty warrior do in this hour, a great leader with the Ring? Aragorn could do it! Or if he refuses, Why not Boromir?! The Ring would give me power of command; how I would destroy the army of Mordor, and all men shall flock to my banner!" He paced around the forest, waving his arms as he grew more excited. He turned to the hobbit and stretched out his hand eagerly, "If you would but lend me the Ring…"
The aggravating hobbit recoiled and stepped back. "No."
Boromir again stilled himself with great effort. His whole body was trembling with suppressed energy. The ring must be his. "Why do you recoil? I am no thief. I need the Ring; that you know now; but I give you my word that I do not desire to keep it." Again he started towards the small hobbit.
"You are not yourself." The hobbit said warily, his hand fingering the object on his neck. He turned to leave.
Boromir threw up his hands in frustration and anger. "You Fool! Running wilfully towards death and ruining our cause. If any mortals have claim to the Ring, it is the men of Numenor, and not the Halflings. It is not yours save by unhappy chance. It might have been mine, it should have been mine. Give it to me! Give me the Ring!" Angrily, he ran towards the hobbit. If he wasn't going to give it to him willingly, he would get it by force. The Ring must be his. Hark now, it was singing to him, a siren song promising power and grandeur, fame and honour. He had to have it. He sprang on the hobbit,
The terrified hobbit ran behind a huge flat stone. Boromir growled in his throat and sprang over to find…nothing! The miserable Halfling must have put on the Ring. The Ring that rightfully should have been his! Boromir spun wildly around and gave a cry of anger and hatred. "I see your mind, you would take the Ring to Sauron and sell us all. You go to your death, and the death of us all!"
A rustle sounded in the undergrowth next to him. He ran towards it. Arms outstretched. He was going to kill that miserable hobbit. "Curse you, and all the Halflings!" Suddenly, his foot caught against a stone, and he fell to the ground.
He was winded. Suddenly, with the departure of Frodo and his fall, the fog left his mind, and his head was cleared. He saw again his previous actions and was horrified. What have I done? What have I caused?! He had fallen. He knew it. He had been seduced by the Ring. "Frodo, Frodo, what have I done? I'm sorry!" he screamed, hoping that Frodo would hear and forgive. He started weeping. He had failed. He could not go back and face the rest of the Fellowship. He sat on a stump and held his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with grief and self-loathing.
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The sounds of war echoed through the forest. Iron clashing on iron, the twang of bowstrings, cries of pain, shouts of defiance. Boromir sprinted through the forest as fast as he could, jumping over roots and fallen branches and crashing through the thick undergrowth towards the sounds of the fight. Orcs. He remembered seeing Frodo's blade gleam blue, and he cursed himself for not realizing what it had meant. In the distance, he heard the cries of Merry and Pippin, interspersed with the guttural growls of the Orcs. Boromir drew his sword. He had failed to protect Frodo, but he swore that he would not fail again. As he ran, he saw Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli fighting a contingent of Orcs near a stone seat, and Percy, Thalia and Nico fighting back to back in another part of the forest.
Crash! He burst out from the trees into a small clearing, where Merry and Pippin were desperately waving their elven blades at nearly fifty Orcs surrounding them. He gave a mighty yell and hurled himself forward.
He slew an orc immediately with the element of surprise, then turning, he decapitated three Orcs in a row. He stood in front of the two hobbits, sword drawn, shield upraised; a true son of Gondor.
The Orcs advanced. Boromir crouched, then leaped towards them. His sword flashed in the air. He recalled all the fighting classes his father had made him take, and he lunged. An orc. He blocked the clumsy blow with his own shield and stabbed him in the chest. He whirled and decapitated another orc. Another orc lunged at him and slashed at his knee, causing a line of pain to flare up. Boromir grunted with pain and bashed him with his shield, breaking its nose, then thrusted his sword into its forehead. Another orc slipped behind him and ran for the two terrified hobbits. No! Boromir desperately pulled his knife from his belt and threw it hard. His aim was true, and the orc collapsed. But his knife was now out of reach.
There were so many of them. More and more Orcs lumbered towards him, wielding wickedly sharp, hooked blades. He exchanged hundreds of blows and strikes; his sword dripped with black blood. His shield became battered and dented; bruises, grazes and bleeding cuts now adorned his feet and legs. He was tired, but he couldn't stop. Stopping would mean failure. But he was fighting a losing battle. He knew that. Left with no other choice, he dropped his shield and reached for the Horn of Gondor, sounding three loud blasts on it. Please…he begged whoever would be listening; maybe the Vala would hear his request...He threw the horn aside and grasped his sword with two hands, and continued fighting.
An orc directly in front of him managed to slip through his defence and nearly killed him right there, if it hadn't been for the rock that hit his forehead and caused him to stumble. Boromir's sword cleaved off its ugly head. He turned and nodded thankfully to the hobbits.
But that movement was to become his fatal error. He had turned his back to the enemy. There was a sharp twang and something slammed into his back hard, throwing him to the ground. Pain erupted in his back, and he realized an arrow had hit him. He gasped in pain, then turned around. He could not die. He snarled and continued fighting, killing three more Orcs with well-aimed blows. A sense of impeding fear came upon him, he looked up and saw the largest orc of all, aiming a huge bow notched with a black arrow at his chest.
Twang. The second arrow hit his upraised hand. More pain flared, but he gritted his teeth and pulled it out, gasping in pain and as the arrow slid through his flesh. He might not be able to use that arm again. But his sword arm was still fine, his spirit still strong. Two more Orcs he killed, one with a clean stroke through the head, the second with his knife. The Orcs were backing away now, obviously surprised. That arrow to the back should have killed him. And yet, he knew he couldn't last forever. He didn't need to look up to know that the third black arrow was being aimed straight at him.
Twang. It hit him in the leg, igniting yet more pain as it pierced an earlier cut. Boromir collapsed to the ground in pain, unable to walk. Orcs laughed and ran towards him. He shut out the pain, shut out everything. He would not feel anything until the fight was over. He sat up and lashed out with his sword, taking down three more with deep cuts through their chests. He felt nothing, enveloped in battle fury.
Twang. Now it was the other leg. Boromir realized the orc was toying with him, dragging out his pain and agony. A snarl escaped him. He resorted to an old method he had learned long ago, to ignore every signal coming from his nerves. He would not give the Orcs the satisfaction. He knew he was going to die. He smiled. The grim smile of a man who knows he is going to die. If he was to die here, he was going to take as many of the foul creatures as he could with him. He staggered to his feet. His legs screamed in agony. He ignored them. He raised his sword. The Orcs backed away in fear, afraid of the man who refused to die. He lunged forward.
Twang. His chest. He fell back, all the wind knocked from his lungs. This was the fatal shot. He knew it. His iron control slipped, and suddenly every nerve in his body was screaming in pain. All the bruises, all the cuts, all the wounds, the arrows. His whole body was in agony. His eyes started closing. Darkness started to take him. There were at least forty dead Orcs lying around him. His horn was in two pieces. Perhaps my sacrifice would not be in vain. Perhaps the Halflings will be safe...
Through half-closed eyes, he saw a figure rushing forward, black hair flying behind her, silver arrows flying in front of her. More Orcs fell. He saw Merry and Pippin run forward, screaming in anger and defiance. Their elven blades cut the necks of two Orcs before they were disarmed and scooped up by the remaining Orcs. Thalia fired more arrows into their midst, calling down lightning to kill more Orcs, but it wasn't enough, another group of Orcs suddenly joined them, and the daughter of Zeus was overwhelmed. Boromir tried to get up, to help, but a wave of pain washed over him, turning his vision red.
He heard footsteps on the leaves. Someone was approaching him slowly. A figure stood in front of him. An arrow was notched to a black bow, aimed straight for his heart. The orc had come to finish its job. It pulled back the string…and Aragorn slammed into him. They fought hard, but Aragorn finally sliced off its arm and decapitated him. Aragorn ran to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He was dying. With a great effort, he grasped Aragorn's arm. There were some things that must be said before he died.
He gave a painful gasp, and mustered up his remaining strength. "They took the little ones…and Thalia…I do not think they are dead..." He took another painful breath. "I tried to take the Ring from Frodo. Forgive me…I did not see…"
Aragorn placed a hand upon his shoulder. "The Ring is beyond our reach now. No. You have fought bravely, you have kept your honour." Desperately, he tried to bind his bleeding wounds.
"It…It is over. The world of men will fall to darkness, and my city to ruin…Aragorn…" He knew he would not be able to protect his city any more. He gazed at Aragorn, desiring him to understand. Gondor would need her King. He needed to make Aragorn understand that he was a king.
Aragorn hesitated, but his expression was grim and determined. "I do not know what strength is left in my blood, but I swear to you, I will not let the White City fall, nor your people fail."
Boromir grasped Aragorn's arm tightly. "Our people…our people." He saw the light of understanding dawn in his eyes. He smiled briefly. "I would have followed you to the end…my brother…my captain…my King…" He meant it. He knew Aragorn would understand.
He closed his eyes, and a white light slowly enveloped him…
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Annabeth.
Annabeth's heart ached at the thought of what she was about to do. She knew it would hurt, not only her, but Percy too, maybe even the whole Fellowship. Yet, she was convinced she had to do it. There was a deep seated conviction in her heart that told her this was the right choice. She only hoped that Percy would understand. She had seen it coming for some time already. The vision in the mirror had been the first sign, then the recurring nightmares, a talk with Lady Galadriel and her talk with her mother. This was why she had been sent here along with the three cousins. She had questioned her value in the beginning of the trip, of her usefulness to the Fellowship; now she saw it all so clearly. Yet... it would hurt so. The choice...In her mind's eye, she could almost see the two-headed god Janus, tossing a key between both hands: choose, choose...She cast the image from her mind. She did not need that particular god in her head. Mother... I wish you were here...
She listened to the sounds of fierce fighting in the woods and fingered her bronze knife nervously, wishing with all her heart that she could be fighting side by side with Percy. But she could not, would not back down now. She knew what she had to do. She would do it. She mentally reviewed her preparations and checked her backpack again. Ambrosia, check. Nectar, check. Elven bread, check. Water, check. Jars of Greek fire, check. Shield, check. Her precious book of elven poems was safely tucked in backpack. Her elven cloak was fastened around her shoulders. She even took along Daedalus' laptop as well, although she knew there would be no conceivable use for it here. Well… always be prepared, right?
She had already put on her invisibility cap. She waited by the riverbank, at the small clearing where they had been sitting almost half an hour earlier, waiting for Frodo to make his decision. It had been her that noticed that Boromir was gone, causing the Company to panic and run off in search of him. She had run with Percy for a while, but then realized what Frodo would have done. Slipping on her invisibility cap, she had quietly left Percy's side without his noticing and ran quickly to the riverbank.
Now for the note. She rummaged around in her backpack until she found the beautiful peacock feather quill & the pieces of parchment Arwen had generously given her during her stay in Rivendell. She dipped the pen in an ink bottle, & bit her lip, trying to think of what she would say. She took a deep breath, & set the quill to parchment.
Dear Percy,
By the time you have found & read this note of mine, I will probably have left and been well on my way to Mordor with Frodo. Don't ask me how I know, as I will not tell you, but I know that he will decide to go to Mordor on his own. When he goes, I will have to go with him. It would be dangerous for a lone hobbit to walk into Mordor alone, especially the Ringbearer. He will need someone close to him to help him through the journey. I know that this will hurt you. My own heart aches at the thought of leaving you too, but please try not to worry about me…
A tear fell onto the paper as she wrote the last sentence. She hadn't even realized she was crying. Who was she kidding? Of course Percy would worry, it was his nature. She knew him too well. She attempted to swallow the lump in her throat, blinked away her tears, & continued writing.
…You know perfectly well I can take care of myself. DO NOT come after me, Seaweed Brain. I know that is just the kind of thing you would do. You know who I am, it doesn't work. This is something I have to do on my own. This is what I was supposed to do. This is my own choice.
I hope you won't be angry with me for leaving like this, Percy. Believe me, this hurts me as well. More than anything, I wish I could be fighting by your side, being with you. But we have to take separate paths for the time being. You will have your part to play, & I will have mine. I repeat, do not follow me. You will be needed elsewhere.
I love you, Percy. I don't want you to be hurt by my leaving. Promise me that you will not mourn after me constantly. Your other friends will need you to be focused. Keep that sarcastic, troublemaker smile that I love on your face. Promise me that you will continue to be objective. I don't want my leaving to cause you to break down.
She stifled a sob & fingered the coral pendant on her necklace. Did she really have to do this? Even before she had left, the pain was already there. Must they really be separated? Was this the only way? Angrily, she quelled those traitor thoughts. She mustn't break down now. She continued to finger the pendant, a present Percy had gotten her from his father's palace after the Battle of Manhattan, when they had officially begun dating. This small gift will bring her comfort.
Don't cry for me, Seaweed Brain. This isn't goodbye, merely… see you later. If all goes well, we will see each other again, Percy. Don't worry. Tell Nico & Thalia not to mope either. It doesn't suit them. Keep up hope, & make sure the fellowship keeps smiling. I will do my part for Frodo, maybe Sam too. I suspect that he will be coming along too.
I love you Seaweed Brain. Don't worry. I will see you again, & perhaps we can have some time alone without being interrupted by monsters, gods or other worlds needing help. Don't forget to smile.
Your loving girlfriend
Annabeth.
She read it over again, eyes misting over again as she thought of Percy's reaction to finding the note. He would probably be devastated, but she knew he would respect her wishes. She left the note on a rock where it would be sure to be found by anyone coming back to the river, and weighed it down with a small pebble. She sat down on another of the rocks by the riverbank & swiped a hand across her eyes to dry them. Now she was here waiting. Just waiting.
She didn't have to wait long. The grass and the undergrowth at the edges of the clearing rustled, as if something small had passed through them; & even though Annabeth watched carefully, even she couldn't detect any trace of a passing hobbit. They are certainly very stealthy. At the very edge of the river, Frodo Baggins suddenly reappeared. The ring glinted on his palm as he stared at it pensively. He seemed to be in deep thought. Tears fell from his eyes. Annabeth understood the struggle he was going through. After all, only moments ago she had been in his position herself.
After what seemed like an age, he slipped the ring into his vest pocket with renewed determination and scooped up his pack. He clambered into one of the elven boats and picked up the paddle, pushing off into the river. Time to go…Annabeth thought. She made her way towards the boat, casting a few wistful glances back at the forest. Percy was in there. She would miss him.
Before she could make a sound, though, another hobbit came crashing through the underbrush with far less grace than the first one. Samwise Gamgee ran at full speed to the riverbank. "NOT ALONE! MR. FRODO! Mr. FRODO!" He cried in anguish. Ah… I knew it.
Frodo looked sadly at his loyal friend. "No Sam… Go back. I'm going to Mordor alone."
Sam looked at the boat, then at the water. He seemed to come to a decision. He shouldered his pack, and made as if for a running start. "Of course you are, Mr. Frodo." He then started running, straight towards the boat. "And I'm coming with you!"
Frodo's eyes widened as he realized what Sam was doing, as did Annabeth. She rushed forward, but it was too late. "You can't swim!" Frodo yelled, just as Sam fell headfirst into the water, just missing the boat. Oh Styx.
Annabeth dived into the water & headed for the drowning hobbit with strong, sure strokes. She had never been more thankful to Percy for dragging her to the pool or the ocean time & time again for a long, tiring swim. She managed to grab the collar of the hobbit & pull him up through the murky water. Sam's head broke the surface of the river, & Frodo grasped his hands instantly. "Save me Mr. Frodo! I'm drownded!" Sam spluttered desperately. Frodo pulled with all his strength, & finally fished a bedraggled, half drowned hobbit out of the water.
Annabeth relaxed slightly as she felt Sam being pulled out of the water, & she swam up to the surface too, listening carefully to their conversation.
"Of all the confounded nuisances you are the worst, Sam! If you hadn't come, I would be safely on my way to Mordor now!" Frodo exclaimed.
Sam replied with fierce passion "I made a promise, Mr. Frodo." He paused, presumably to take a breath or spit out some river water. "Don't you leave him, Samwise Gamgee." A sob escaped him. "& I don't mean to…I don't mean to."
Frodo started crying too. "Oh Sam!", & he began to laugh through his tears.
Annabeth took a deep breath. Time to make her entrance. She reached out & grabbed the side of the boat, making the boat rock dangerously to the side & the two hobbits cry out in fear. She pulled her cap off, to reveal herself, & she climbed aboard the boat, trying to shake some of the water out of her clothes & hair. She smiled gently at them. "Do you have room for one more, Frodo?"
Her choice was made. No turning back now.
=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=
At length they came to land again on the southern slopes of Amon Lhaw. There they found a shelving shore, & they drew the boat up, high above the water, & hid it as well as they could behind a great boulder. Then. Shouldering their burdens, they set off, seeking a path that would bring them over the grey hills of the Emyn Muil, & down to the land of Shadow.
Annabeth gazed over the bleak, forbidding landscape. Black soil, strewn with sharp, jagged rocks. It was a far cry from Lorien. "Mordor," she spoke softly. She glanced back the way they had come. "I hope the others find a safer road."
Sam turned to her. "Strider will look after them" he said simply.
Frodo sighed. "I don't suppose we'll ever see them again." He said wistfully, sadly.
"We may yet, Mr. Frodo, we may." Sam smiled.
Annabeth smiled at the determined hobbit, so full of hope. "Yes… We should never give up hope of seeing our loved ones again, for it is that love that fuels us to complete our mission." Percy…
Frodo smiled gratefully at the both of them. "I'm glad you're here with me." He said simply. Annabeth understood.
Together, they set off.
Mordor.
=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
Didn't see that coming, did you? Well, the chapter is finished, I will try my best to get the next chapter out by the end of next week. (That is… if my friend AotW doesn't flood me with chapters of her story. ) Remember to check out her story if you're free, it would mean a lot to both of us.
Please remember to review! I love reviews!
PJcrazy signing out.