Chance Encounter

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of putting them back where they belong after I'm through with them.

Chapter 16: Reaching an Understanding

The blade clashed against yet another tree trunk. Sparks flew. He let out a cry of frustration. Red haze filled his mind. He felt strangely disconnected and lightheaded, as if his soul was entirely separate from his body. ' Kill. Kill. Kill.' said the compelling voice inside his head. It was his own and yet, it wasn't. He struck out again and missed. The man was fast, too fast.

Balian ducked another blow that would have otherwise decapitated him. "Boromir!" he shouted desperately, trying to stop the mad onslaught. He was tiring and the Gondorian showed no sign of halting his attack.

Was that someone's voice that he heard? It sounded so far away. There it was again. Boromir, Boromir; someone was calling his name. Wait. He knew that voice and it was desperate. He'd heard it before, but to whom did it belong? Faramir? Was it Faramir? No, it couldn't be. His brother was in Gondor guarding Osgiliath. Faramir would never abandon his post. Who was it then. He couldn't remember. Come on, remember! Who did the voice belong to? Who could possibly be calling his name out here in the wilderness? Were they looking for him? Did they need his help?

Balian stumbled and fell. Boromir swiped down with his sword. The blade landed squarely across Balian's upper arm. Thankfully, the mail shirt that the blacksmith was wearing mostly deflected the blow. The blade cut through the chain mail and entered his flesh, but did not reach bone.

A cry of pain. Red. Red blood. What was going on? He recognized the man now. The blacksmith, one of his companions. What had he done? Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. He had turned on his own companions. And Frodo? What about Frodo? He'd tried to take the Ring. Was Frodo alright?

Balian's cry and the sight of blood seemed to bring Boromir back to his senses. The bloodied sword fell from his hand and landed silently amongst the dead leaves on the forest floor. Boromir staggered backwards, horrified. "What have I done?" he whispered, staring at his hands as if they didn't belong to him. His eyes were frightened and mad. "Balian, I'm sorry…what have I done?"

Balian slowly stood. His left arm was bleeding heavily but the wound was not fatal and he paid no heed to it. He did not know what to say as he observed Boromir's pitiable state. The Gondorian needed help, that much was obvious. He just didn't know how to help him.

Boromir was truly traumatized by his own actions. He dared not look up into Balian's eyes, fearing the accusation and anger that he felt he was sure to find. He fell to his knees and hid his face in his hands. He was ashamed at his weakness.

"Boromir," said Balian softly. The other man had not meant to hurt him. He understood that. Boromir had been controlled by something much more sinister. He had felt it and had no doubt as to what it was that drove the man to insanity.

"Please," sobbed Boromir "forgive me…forgive me…I'm so sorry…"

"Boromir, look at me," said Balian in the most soothing tone he could muster.

"I didn't mean to do this," cried Boromir in a panicking voice. "I didn't mean it. I was just so jealous of you … everyone likes you…it made me hate you…it made me do it. It just took control of me…I'm sorry…forgive me…"

"Boromir," repeated Balian, more firmly this time. "Look at me."

Boromir shook his head.

"Boromir," said Balian sincerely. "I forgive you."

Finally, Boromir lifted his head to meet the young blacksmith's gaze. He found no blame in those brown eyes, only compassion and understanding.

"Thank you," said Boromir at last, at want for better words. "I…I hope we can be friends."

"We are friends," Balian assured the other man warmly with a small smile. The two men clasped hands and marked the beginning of their ill-fated friendship.

As Balian and Boromir came to an understanding, Frodo fled deeper into the woods, pursued by Guy. The man was gaining on him and the hobbit began to panic. He had escaped one pursuer only to fall into the hands of another. This time, there was no blacksmith to save him. The whole journey, Gandalf's sacrifice, would have been in vain. In a rash decision, he slipped the Ring onto his finger…

Guy stopped in his tracks with jaws slack as his prey vanished into thin air. How was it possible? Frustrated, he cursed Frodo, the Fellowship, Balian, God, Saladin and anyone else he could think of who put him in the position that he was now in. Still confused he searched the ground for signs of the hobbit. Fortunately for Frodo, Guy was born a nobleman. He was a terrible tracker, having had no need to do so before. Thus, Frodo was able to elude him.

Frodo climbed atop a broken stone structure to better hide himself. As he settled himself against the stone, a sinister and vulgar voice sounded in his mind. "You cannot hide!" it said triumphantly. Frodo swore he could hear the speaker sneering. "I see you…" The hobbit was granted a vision of a great eye wreathed in flame. It was at the top of a dark tower which loomed over rivers of red molten rock. A great roaring noise filled his ears. As he stumbled back in terror, he fell from the structure and in the process, pulled the Ring from his finger. He landed with a thud on the soft turf.

When Frodo had registered his surroundings, he realized that he was alone and lost, until he heard someone call his name. It was Aragorn. The ranger had been starting to worry that something terrible had befallen the Ringbearer.

"It has taken Boromir," Frodo informed the ranger breathlessly. "Balian tried to stop him." He clenched the Ring tightly in his fist, ready to run if anything resembling a threat should startle him.

Aragorn started to approach the hobbit. "Where is the Ring?" he demanded, more forcefully than he had intended to. He was just so worried.

Frodo darted behind the stone structure. "Stay away!" he cried. His eyes held the look of a spooked animal.

Aragorn looked confounded. Did the hobbit doubt him too? He held out his hands with palms facing skywards to show that he meant no harm. "I swore to protect you," he said.

"Can you protect me from yourself?" retorted Frodo. Slowly, he extended his hand and opened it. The Ring lay on his sweaty palm, perfect, golden, shining and alluring. Aragorn's answer caught in his throat. He could not deny that he was tempted. The Ring whispered sweet promises in his mind. He would need to hide no longer if he took it. Arwen, Gondor, the world, could be his, if he only slipped it on his finger.

"Would you destroy it?" Frodo demanded.

No. Aragorn knew he couldn't. He knelt. His eyes were fixed on the Ring. With much effort, he closed Frodo's fingers over it and backed away.

"I would go with you into the very fires of Mordor," he said. He knew what Frodo intended to do.

"I know," said Frodo. His voice was thick with emotion. He was touched by the man's devotion. "Look after the others, especially Sam. He will not understand."

"Must you go alone? Won't you take someone with you for protection?"

Frodo hesitated. The image of Balian standing valiantly before him and his enemies came to his mind immediately. The blacksmith was daring and loyal, no to mention skilled and trustworthy. He was very tempted to take the man with him. Then he reprimanded himself for his selfishness. Balian was a dear friend, and he could not ask a friend to accompany him to certain death in the clutches of orcs or worse. Balian was young and he had his whole life before him. He could not deny him that.

"It is my task," he said to Aragorn at last. The man looked down at the ground without speaking. He accepted Frodo's decision.

The ranger's eyes fell on Frodo's sword. His brow creased in a frown then he leapt to his feet, sword in hand. The blade of Sting was glowing blue.

"Go, Frodo!" he cried urgently, echoing Balian's words which were spoken only moments before. "Run!"

Frodo glanced at Aragorn's face and then at the horde of approaching orcs. He was reluctant to leave the ranger to fight them alone although he doubted he would be of much help. Reason got the better of him and he fled.

Balian and Boromir heard the clamour of a fight in the distance. "Our companions need help!" cried Boromir. He put his horn to his lips and let out a sharp clear blast. "Come!" he called to Balian. "Let us go forth and fight as brothers in arms, for good or for evil!"

Balian didn't need to be asked twice. He and Boromir raced towards the place where the roar of orcs and the shrill cries of the youngest hobbits came from.

Guy had no idea what was going on. First, a hobbit had disappeared before his eyes and now he was being attacked by great black man-like beasts with red eyes and tremendous strength. Behind him, he could hear the others; the dwarf's barbaric war cry was unmistakable and neither was the ranger's voice. He ran towards them, hoping that they would be able to offer him some protection. To his dismay, he found them all occupied and outnumbered, although he had to admit that they were managing very well.

The elf had exhausted all the arrows in his quiver and had resorted to fighting with his twin knives. The dwarf seemed to have lost all reason and was taking on two of the creatures at once. They were twice his size. The ranger was holding his own, although he had almost been strangled.

The former king did not have much time to dwell on his thoughts. Soon, he found himself fighting alongside people that he had once scorned and for the first time, he appreciated them.

Balian beheaded yet another orc and more black blood splattered onto his already stained face. He concentrated on keeping himself between the hobbits and the orcs. Merry and Pippin were brave but they were not skilled enough to defend themselves against such a large horde. As it was, He and Boromir felt the need to retreat and call for reinforcements. Unfortunately, the others were probably just as outnumbered as they were. Boromir blew three blasts on his horn, but the third blast was cut short as he had to defend himself against an especially vicious orc.

Legolas could hear the clear calls of the horn. "The horn of Gondor!" he cried.

"Boromir," stated Aragorn immediately. He left the fight and ran in the direction of the horn blasts, leaving Gimli, Guy and Legolas to cover for him. He hoped he would not be too late.

The two men hacked in every direction. They made a formidable pair and Balian could see the possibility of surviving. He did not see the orc captain draw his bow and aiming for him.

Boromir did. He pushed Balian aside. The dark arrow that was meant for the blacksmith instead slammed into the Gondorian. Boromir stumbled but he kept fighting. It took more than one arrow to vanquish the future steward of Gondor.

Balian saw what had happened and he was shocked that Boromir would take an arrow for him. It seemed as if history was replaying itself. In his mind, he could see his father lying on his deathbed. Godfrey had died from an arrow wound much like this one. And like Boromir, Godfrey had acquired the wound by trying to save Balian.

The blacksmith slashed left and right, trying to get to his friend. The hobbits had joined in the fight by throwing stones and sometimes taking on wounded orcs. Another arrow hit the Gondorian, bringing Boromir to his knees. The wound was mortal. Despite that, the Gondorian got to his feet again and continued to fight. Boromir was a true soldier and he would die fighting. Balian lunged at the archer but there were too many orcs in his way. The orc shot Boromir again. This time, the Gondorian could not get up. An orc hit Balian on the back of his skull, and he was rendered unconscious.

The orcs grabbed Merry and Pippin, who struggled wildly but were too small to fight off the orcs now that their defenders were either dying or unconscious. They bound the hobbits and Balian and slung them over their shoulders. Having done that, they left. Only the orc captain stayed behind. He stood a few paces in front of the dying Boromir and put an arrow to his bowstring. It was at that moment that Aragorn appeared and threw himself at the orc. The arrow went wide as flesh impacted against flesh. The orc picked up the sword and shield of one of its fallen comrades and Aragorn took the defensive position. Nothing could prepare him for the ferocity and skill of the orc. The fight was long and hard. More than once, Aragorn thought that the orc would kill him. However, the ranger prevailed and at last dispatched the foul creature. Breathing heavily, he ran to Boromir's side. The man was dying but still lucid.

"They took the little ones and Balian!" he cried urgently.

"Stay still," said Aragorn softly as he inspected the other man's wounds. One look told him that they were fatal.

"Frodo," demanded Boromir. "Where is Frodo?"

"I let Frodo go," replied Aragorn.

"Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the Ring from him."

"The Ring is beyond our reach now."

"Forgive me. I did not see it. I have failed you all."

"No, Boromir," said Aragorn sincerely. "You fought bravely. You have kept your honour

Aragorn reached out to extract the arrows but Boromir stopped him. "Leave it," he said. Blood trickled from the side of his mouth. "It is over. The world of men would fall. And all will come to darkness and my city to ruin!"

"I do not know what strength there is in my blood but I swear to you, I will not let the White City fall, nor our people fail," Aragorn promised Boromir.

The dying man smiled. "Our people," he said, tears of happiness filling his eyes "our people." He held out his hand for his sword. Aragorn placed the hilt in his hand and he clasped it to his chest.

"I would have followed you, my brother," Boromir told Aragorn. "My captain. My King."

"Where did they take the hobbits?" Aragorn asked him, but Boromir spoke no more. Gently, Aragorn kissed Boromir's forehead. "Be at peace, son of Gondor," he whispered as a tear made a track in the grime on his face.

He stood. Legolas, Gimli and Guy were behind him. "Alas that we are too late," said Legolas. "We have slain many orcs but we would have been of more use here."

"Do not blame yourselves," said Aragorn. "You were needed there." He turned his head to the east. "They will look for his coming from the White Tower, but he will not return."

A/N: We were learning about this method called 'flow of consciousness' or something rather in English and I decided to try it out at the beginning of the chapter. Most of the exchange between Aragorn and Boromir at the end was taken from FotR, in case you haven't noticed.

Please review! Reviews are like food for the mind and most authors need motivation and fuel.

Thanks to all the reviewers!