Chapter Twenty Five: Of Endings and New Beginnings

"The measure of a man,
Stands or falls with what he leaves behind,
Gather on the sand,
Let your voices carry to the sky,
Rise in light.
Let the gods look down on this and wonder."

- Heather Dale, Measure of a Man.

You could smell her fear. It was a palpable, living thing that crept up behind her eyes and into her chest. Instincts countless centuries old told her to run in the opposite direction and not look back. She didn't. She held Boromir's hand tightly and he half dragged her as he recollected what he was going to fight for.

They saw Merry and Pippin run across an old stone bridge. At its far end, they halted and saw Uruk-hai running towards them from another direction. When she caught her first glimpse at an Uruk-hai, her pallor paled considerably. They were well over six foot, broad and muscular of physique, with a single white handprint on their face and long, straggly dark hair. Each were well-armoured and carried a weapon.

Boromir let go of her hand and came charging at them, knocking the Uruk who was approaching Merry back, killing it with his sword. He hurled a throwing knife at the next and continued fighting. Elizabeth seized her small knife from her pocket and jumped away from an attacking Uruk. Keep watch for the leader. She thought, trying to simultaneously focus on the rapidly approaching creature and watch out for Boromir.

She heard the Horn of Gondor being blown, the sound filling the air. The Uruks paused but did not stop in their assault. Her tiny dagger was nothing compared to the great swords of her opponents. As one raised its sword to strike her down, she stabbed it in the gut, in a weak point unprotected by armour. She swallowed. The amount of dark blood gushing from the wound was stomach-churning. She wrenched the knife from the body and searching wildly for her companion. He was still fighting valiantly.

There were so many. They came swarming from the hills, dozens and dozens.

"Run!" Shouted Boromir to Merry and Pippin. He turned to Elizabeth. "Run!"

"I'm not going anywhere!" She said.

He was going to protest, she could tell. However, the Uruks were upon them and there was no time for demands. The first lunged at her. She stepped back and prepared to slash but Boromir was already there, decapitating it quickly and efficiently. His arm had a deep gash on it. Blood. The brightest, reddest thing she had seen in weeks trickled forth. Her mouth felt dry and her head was swimming. The next one came at her and this time there was no mercy. She pierced the flesh of its' neck and pushed it back.

Something knocked her on the back of the head with a slam. The pain was difficult to handle for a second. She clung on desperately to her vision. Fortunately, there was no lazy drifting from one state of consciousness to another. There was only darkness and silence for a short-lived flash, like swimming on a sea of black ink. One moment all was still, calm, muted. And then her head broke the surface and the five senses came rushing back, filling her mind with sight, sound, scent, taste and touch.

There was a steady, growing ache at the back of her skull. She turned around and moved out of the way of a black sword. She threw her knife at it, managing to lodge it in between the neck plating. It was the only bit of luck she had. She turned again, eyes hunting for Boromir.

He was there. And so was the leader, standing atop a natural ridge in the ground, baring its teeth in a gesture that was far too human. She raced towards Boromir, getting ready to push or hide or-.

Thump. An arrow. The noise around her wasn't acknowledged. The arrow pierced Boromir's chest with a barely audible intake of breath on his part.

"No." She hissed. "NO! I REFUSE TO LET THIS HAPPEN!" She ran to him. Tears were already making tracks in her cheeks. "We are all victims of our own actions," She thought bitterly, recalling Galadriel's words with precise accuracy. She knelt beside him, arms cradling his head and she kissed his cheeks, him lips, his chin. "This is not goodbye!" She said fiercely.

She helped him stand. "Run!" He repeated. She shook her head and was about to respond, when something happened she didn't plan on.

A searing, white hot pain shot through her left shoulder. For several seconds, she simply stood there, willing her body to obey her mind's commands and move. She could feel her own heartbeat pounding through her body, escaping in torrents from her shoulder. Boromir was very pale. He put his hand on her right shoulder and softly kissed her forehead.

Then raised his sword to meet the enemy behind Elizabeth. She had no weapon. She had thrown it at an Uruk. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. Boromir killed two more Uruk-hai. She warned him of incoming strikes and dodged several blows. The Leader walked slowly into her line of sight. He lifted his bow and shot.

Elizabeth sprung forward, disregarding the pain in her shoulder. The large black arrow struck Boromir in the chest. She rushed to him and the next one was for her. Boromir swayed on his knees, blinking. It stuck in her rib cage. She gasped wetly and fell to the ground.

Maybe I'll close my eyes... just for a little bit, She thought. She tried to reach out to Boromir, slowly making progress to where his hand lay. But then darkness came and enveloped her, wrapping her in its cool silence.

The next thing she knew was Aragorn. She couldn't open her eyes but she listened to the flow of words.

"No." She heard Aragorn say.

"They took the little ones."

"Hold still..."

She fell under again. She was vaguely aware of a pain in her chest as a strong hand tugged something hard and steely out of her ribs. The next thing she heard was more talking. It hurt her head.

"...And what of Elizabeth?"

"She... She is gone. I am sorry."

I'm here, you idiots! She wanted to scream and claw her way back into reality. She tried to stretch, to reach, to feel another's skin on her own.

After that, consciousness came and went in a hypnotic rhythm, like the sea appearing and disappearing on the deck of a boat in a storm. Elizabeth knew she lay on the forest floor, the moss beneath her was soft and the leaves smelled damp. She could feel another hand, one she almost clasped, fingertips excruciatingly close. Hers lay palm up. Boromir's was palm down, searching. The snarls of Uruk-hai still ringing in her ear drums, but the sound was distant. An underwater reverberation.

The darkness returned and she fell into it, grateful for the respite from light and thought. She wrapped herself in it like a blanket or a favourite winter coat, and let herself float, like icebergs off the coast of the arctic, cradled in the moonlight by black, icy water.

Then, there was the new sensation. It was hard to describe. It was like tumbling end over end into a bottomless pit while hearing her own thoughts reflected back at her a thousand times greater. First, there was the gut-wrenching vertigo, then the stark blinding terror that followed fast on its' heels, but after that, she felt some new sensation wandering quietly into the inky ocean; peace. Comfort. She felt... warm. Inviting. Open. Something flowed into the coldest, quietest and emptiest corners of her heart and filled her ears with the roar of waves.

The darkness was black. Very, very black. Black is the colour of night and of silence, but it is also the colour of freedom.