I decided not to leave you hanging on any longer. So here there are the last chapters.

CHAPTER XXIV: BROKEN ARROW

Author's note: "Broken arrow" in code language can be used in two different situations: to say that a nuclear bomb has gone missing or that a military unit in grave danger is requesting the maximum help possible.

Merry and Pippin threw themselves down the hill closely followed by the Uruk-hai, acting as baits so Frodo would be able to continue his mission.

"It's working!" Pippin remarked, glancing over his own shoulder.

"I know it's working, RUN!" Merry shouted, trying to run faster.

Frodo was safe now, but who would have saved the two of them?

They stopped dead in their tracks, petrified with fear, when they saw other Orcs coming down the hill in front of them. They were surrounded.

An Orc threw himself against them brandishing an axe, but as soon as he was less then two feet away from the Halflings he was hit by an electrical discharge and Boromir ran him through with his sword. Meanwhile, Victoria hit another Orc with a Lightning.

Father and daughter fought side by side desperately with all their might. Victoria had even invoked the Thirty Slytherins, allowing her soul to join forces with the other Twenty-nine, but it was the first time she tried such a thing and she didn't know how to avail herself of that completely. The enemy was more terrible than they had thought even in their darkest previsions. Not only were they huge, monstrous and unaffected by the sunlight, but they also were cruel, merciless, tireless, resistant…and above all, a lot. Boromir was almost surrounded and Victoria, in spite of her new and stronger powers, could barely keep them at bay both with her sword and her spells. Alone, they did not stand a chance. Boromir threw his knife against one of the fiends, who had tried to stab his daughter in the back as she fought off another one, and barely managed to parry the blow of another.

Victoria parried the blow of the Uruk-hai and managed to push him back for a couple of steps, just in time to aim her wand at him. "Expelliarmus!"

The sword flew away from the hands of the enemy, who tried to launch himself at the girl and crush her with his arm of steel, but with a quick movement Victoria thrust her sword in his chest.

At the same time, Boromir's sword sliced the throat of another beast.

The sword of an Orc aiming at the girl's chest was barely dodged and cut the sleeve of the shirt and the dark skin.

Boromir brought the Horn of Gondor to his lips and blew.

Higher on the hill, Legolas was shooting arrow after arrow against the enemy. Gimli's axe and Aragorn's sword had never drunk so muck blood.

An Uruk-hai, though unarmed, managed to block Aragorn's sword arm and seized the Man's throat with his free hand, trying to choke him to death. He would have succeeded if an Elvish arrow had not pierced his back and killed him on the spot. Suddenly, in the forest echoed an anguished sound.

"The Horn of Gondor…" Legolas murmured, turning toward the direction from which the sound came.

"Boromir!" Aragorn cried out, trying to reach his fellow in spite of the Uruks that blocked his way.

Orcs kept on coming from every direction, climbing down the hills. They were a storm, a whole river and it looked like there was no end to their coming.

Boromir blew his Horn again and was forced to take a few steps back under that assault. "Run! Run!" he shouted to Merry and Pippin as he parried a blow. "Torey, go away!"

"NO!" The girl replied, tearing a gap in the stomach of an Orc and Stunning another. Casting spells was getting more and more difficult, there were too many enemies and they were coming too fast. She tried to concentrate her strength on her right hand, which held the sword, but in spite of the lessons she had received, she was still a beginner and her opponents were at least twenty times stronger than her. If her Twenty-nine Housemates had not been there to help her with their strength, she would have been stabbed to death long ago.

The Halflings stopped and turned back. They were too scared to fight, but at the same time they were unwilling to leave their friends alone.

High above the hill appeared a monstrous Uruk-hai, even bigger than the others and with the White Hand painted on his mug. He held a bow in his hands.

Boromir managed to drive back the attack of one of the fiends and suddenly, with a faint whiz, an arrow pierced his chest. The Man stumbled and fell on his knees.

"DAD!" Victoria shouted, turning back toward him for they had been parted during the fight. Her desperate call became a cry of pain: a black arrow had hit her right shoulder, piercing her flesh. She could not hold her sword anymore, but as she let it fall on the ground, she tightened her grip on her wand.

Boromir got to his feet, parried the blows of another Orc and thrust his sword in the beast's stomach, then he turned around to face another enemy.

At the same time Victoria stood still, gathering all her feelings and emotions to cast the most terrible spell of the Wizardry World, the gravest of the Unforgivable Curses. Her eyes found her target among the dark mass of Orcs just as he nock another arrow. The Slytherin witch aimed and started pronouncing the formula. But at the last moment, another Orc threw himself at her and the green light of the Avada Kedavra, the Killing Curse, fully hit him. As he died, he still managed to hit her in the head with his shield. Exhausted by the Curse she had cast, Victoria could not avoid the sudden attack and the blow made her lose her consciousness. As darkness fell upon her like the waves of the stormy sea on a shipwrecked, she saw her father being hit by a second arrow.

Boromir fell to his knees right in front of Merry and Pippin, who were staring at the scene with shock written upon their faces. They could not believe what their own eyes had just seen: Boromir wounded, Victoria stabbed in the back and laying on the ground, maybe dead… In their eyes, Boromir saw all their fear and all their innocence. He could not fail them as well, he had to keep on fighting, the others had surely heard the call of the Horn and would have come soon. He could not give in. The Man managed to turn around and stab an Uruk-hai with his sword. Another fiend marched against him, thinking it was going to be an easy task, but Boromir managed to make him lose his balance and stab him. His strength was failing him and even breathing had become painful, but he drove back the attack of another enemy. He turned his head a little, looking for Victoria with his eyes. He had to see her, to see if she was fine, if she had recovered, if she was really dead…and the third, fatal arrow pierced him. His breath was caught in his throat, the pain was excruciating and hot blood dripped down his wounds. He could not move.

Shouting, Merry and Pippin unsheathed their swords, firmly resolved to defend their friend and teacher like he had defended them, but couldn't do it: strong arms seized them and dragged them away as they uselessly struggled against them. The river of the Uruk-hai took off Westward, toward Isengard.

Boromir's eyes saw only Victoria, who lay on the ground. Not only he had betrayed everybody's trust and doomed Middle-Earth to ruin, but he hadn't been able to protect the little Hobbits and the girl he loved as a daughter. His heart sank in a darkness gloomier and more painful than the arrow protruding from his child's tender shoulder.

An Orc stood in front of him. It was the archer who had struck his body thrice and his spirit once. For the arrow that had struck Victoria had been the hardest blow and that alone hurt like the other three together. He hadn't been able to protect her. He had failed her too.

The archer grinned. Boromir would have liked to tear that face of cruel joy from the fiend's mug, but he did not have the strength to do so.

Suddenly, his heart leapt in his chest. He had seen an imperceptible movement behind the Orc's back, perhaps…Aye, there was no doubt: Victoria was still alive. Wounded, but alive. The Man kept his face blank: the Orc must not realize that, or it would have been her downfall.

The girl was slowly moving her left hand toward the wand that lay, unbroken, a few centimeters away from her. Boromir understood immediately what she meant to do and searched her eyes, trying to make her understand with a single look that she must not move, she must let it be… Victoria, who kept her eyes focused on her enemy and her father, met his gaze and understood the message he was trying to send her. She shook her head without breaking eye-contact.

Her hand was closer and closer to the wand, the archer nock another black arrow and started pulling the string tight to administrate the finishing stroke to the wounded Man. Boromir kept on holding Victoria's gaze, praying that she wouldn't do anything stupid and get caught… With a sudden move, the girl seized the wand, aimed at the archer's back and – since she didn't have the time nor the strength to cast another Killing Curse – threw a Lightning, which fully hit the monster's spine. The attack and the sudden pain caught him off guard and he dropped the bow and the arrow. Before he could turn around, Aragorn pounced upon him, taking him away from the wounded.

Victoria got to her feet and ran to Boromir, helping him to lie down. "Oh God…Hold on, dad…" she murmured as she tore away her Slytherin scarf and tried to tampon the blood. She started whispering a spell, but Boromir stopped her. "Leave it…It is over. My road ends here…"

Victoria shook her head forcefully. "No…no, no, no…daddy, please…you can't leave…We must go to Minas Tirith together, remember? An-and you haven't apologized to Frodo yet…"

"Do it in my stead, élif neièn…" He saw that the first tears had started streaming down her face. "This isn't a farewell, Merilìs…I will always be here…" He whispered, lightly caressing her face. "…here…" He placed his hand on her chest, feeling her heart-beat against his palm. "…and here." His hand covered his child's smaller one. Aye, his child…to him, but not to the rest of the world. He took her right hand, gathering a little bit of his own blood on a fingertip, traced a circle on her hand and then guided it on her own heart so it left a mark on her clothes. He whispered the ritual words in the Common Tongue, so she would understand them. "Blood in blood…fate in fate…light in light. Élif neièn. My daughter."

In spite of the confusion that reigned in her head, Victoria realized that it must be some kind of christening. "Édar…Father." she murmured first in Gondorian dialect, then in Common Tongue. She didn't notice Aragorn until he dropped down beside Boromir. The son of the Stewart turned to Isildur's Heir. "They took the little ones…Frodo! Where is Frodo?" He asked anxiously, grabbing the Man's arm.

"I let Frodo go," Aragorn answered.

The other Man nodded faintly. "Then you did what I could not…I almost tried to take the Ring from him…"

"The Ring is beyond our reach now," The Ranger tried to reassure him.

"Forgive me…both of you…" His grip was almost convulsive. "I did not see it…I have failed you all…"

"No!" Victoria cried out firmly, as Aragorn said at the same time, "No, Boromir. You fought bravely…You have kept your honor."

"What for? It is over…The world of Men will fall…and all will come to darkness…and my city to ruin."

Aragorn's eyes met his own and held them. "I do not know what strength is in my blood," he said in a voice choked by tears but firm. "But I swear to you I will not let the White City fall…nor our people fail."

"Our people…our people…" Boromir repeated, savoring those words he had longed to hear for a long time. He reached for his sword and his daughter handed it back to him with extreme tenderness. With an immense effort, Boromir managed to hold it to his own chest. "I would have followed you, my brother…my Captain…my King." But there was another thing he must do. He turned his gaze on Victoria, who was shaking and whose eyes were full of pain. "Take care of her, I beg of you…" He looked for his daughter's hand and she hurriedly grasped his hand with her own. "Be brave, little soldier…Daddy loves you…" He sighed and in the darkness that fell over his eyes, for a moment he managed to catch a glimpse of Victoria's face surrounded by the sunlight and furrowed with tears. He thought it the face of an angel, but he had not the strength to say so. The light in his eyes went out. His spirit flew far away.

"Daddy…" Victoria murmured in a broken voice. "Daddy…" Her tears were like Autumn rain. She collapsed beside the body of the only father she had ever had, moaning and sobbing. Aragorn signed himself touching his own forehead and lips and then bent down to kiss his fallen comrade's browse. "Rest in peace, Son of Gondor."

He got to his feet and hugged Victoria, holding her close and trying to comfort her as much as he could. The girl trembled in his arms, shaken by her own sobs. She clung to him and buried her face against his shoulder. He didn't let her go until she calmed down.

"We cannot leave him here…" Gimli said slowly.

"We shall give him to the river," Aragorn said. "Anduin, the river of Gondor, will take care that no one will dishonor his body." He knelt down in front of Victoria, who still sat by her father's lifeless body, trying to catch her gaze. "Do you agree, Victoria?"

The girl barely nodded and answered in a flat voice, "Yes…that's fine."

"Come on…" he murmured as he helped her up.

Before all the Boromir-fans out there decide to kill me, let me explain:

I certainly didn't mean for him to die! I swear I honestly thought he would live when I started writing this. Unfortunately, when we came near the end, he just had to go and do whatever he wanted!

I swear I couldn't change him – I'm blaming this on Tolkien for writing such a story that makes resurrecting Boromir or keeping him alive almost impossible.

Great authors like may try and succeed. I tried to find a way, but I couldn't.

Forgive me, Boromir. I did my best.