Chapter 19
That afternoon, Mel recounted every escapade of her sisters (and herself) from as far back as she could remember. Some of them were difficult to explain (she tried to describe a vacuum cleaner to Boromir and failed miserably), but most were pretty universal. She was having a great time making Boromir laugh. She hadn't heard him laugh so much since Rivendell. She had missed it, that deep, rolling sound that reverberated in her chest. It was so nice to hear him laugh…
Mel cleared the fuzzies from her brain and launched into another tale of the twins involving her mom's favorite jacket and a pair of toads.
She was having such a good time that she didn't notice how quickly the mountains were approaching. Her first clue was when a deep, echoing voice spoke in her head.
"Welcome to the White Mountains, Calenhiril."
She pulled Brytta to a halt and looked around for who had spoken. She spotted a large, spreading oak to her right and smiled, nodding in his direction.
"Thank you very much."
"What is it?"
She jumped. Boromir had turned Deor around and was waiting with a slightly concerned expression.
"Nothing, just being polite," She said, gesturing toward the tree.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Do you intend to stop for pleasantries with all the trees along our path?"
Mel laughed, "What trees?"
Boromir jerked his head toward the mountains. Mel glanced and stopped laughing. The sun was just beginning to set, casting an orange glow over the mountain range… and the huge forest spread out before them. Mel didn't know how she could have missed it. Her mind must have been on another planet. The trees climbed the gentle slope of the nearest mountain peak, almost to the very top, and right at the base of the incline Mel thought she could make out a wisp of smoke curling up into the dusk. Boromir grinned broadly at her clearly surprised expression.
"Halfirien," He said, "Come, we'll miss supper!"
Deor broke into an easy canter and Brytta followed suit, plunging them into the forest and surrounding Mel with the constant murmur of trees. She let the sound wash over her, sighing in contentment. It was nice to hear the trees again. When she was separated from them, she almost didn't notice their absence. It was only when she was thrust into their midst again that she realized she had missed the steady chatter. She liked the trees. And they seemed to like her. Some of them called out to her and she smiled, answering back as best she could without slowing. They were happy to have her in the forest with them. It made her happy to be there.
The path wound through the forest and the sun was quickly blotted out by the mountain above them, leaving only a dim reminder of it's light behind. The edge of the slope rapidly approached and the flicker of a campfire through the branches pulled them onward. The wind picked up slightly and tugged at Mel's cloak. And then a light voice whispered in Mel's mind, no louder than the wind tickling her ears.
"Be careful, Calenhiril. They are following you."
Mel pulled Brytta up short and Boromir noticed her absence immediately, pulling Deor around and watching her closely.
"Who's following us?"
"What is it?" Boromir asked, his voice breaking over the soft timid voice of the tree in her head.
"Shhh!" Mel hissed, her eyes darting over the shadows around them, "We're being followed."
Boromir stiffened, his own eyes now scanning the dusky twilit forest.
"Are you certain?" he muttered.
Before Mel could answer, a loud voice echoed out of the forest around them.
"Hail travelers from Rohan! What brings you to the White Mountains?"
Both their heads jerked toward the source of the voice, somewhere away to their right. Mel watched Boromir closely for any clue as to what they should do. He made eye contact and managed a tight smile, apparently an attempt to reassure her. Then he turned back toward the shadowed trees.
"We seek to return to the land of our ancestors by the Old South Road. We are citizens of Gondor, and dwell in the city of Minas Tirith."
That wasn't entirely true since Mel had never actually been to Gondor, but she thought now was probably not the time to argue semantics.
"You have a familiar voice, stranger." The hidden man replied warily.
"Perhaps you know my father, Denethor, son of Ecthelion, who rules these lands in the King's stead," Boromir said, "I am his first born, Boromir, Captain of the White Tower."
There was a long pause.
"Boromir is dead."
The sharp declaration took Mel's breath away. Boromir exchanged a glance with her, but all she could do was shrug helplessly. She couldn't imagine… Dead? They thought he was…? How was that possible? The announcement had clearly shaken Boromir too, but he took only a moment to compose himself before turning back to the shadows.
"And yet I am come bearing the tokens of my house and station."
He reached for his belt.
"Stop!" the voice shouted and Boromir froze, "Know stranger, that we have arrows trained on you and your companion."
Boromir's back stiffened visibly and the trees around Mel shuddered as her heart leapt to her throat. She quickly worked to still them. While it was touching that they were so eager to defend her, she did not think it would be very helpful right now.
"Am I not to be given the chance to prove myself?" Boromir asked, "I reach only for the Horn of Gondor at my side, that you might see it and believe."
Another pause. Then the voice consented, "Proceed, but slowly."
Boromir slowly gripped the silver tipped horn at his side and held it before him in the air.
"Behold the Horn of the Stewards of Gondor!"
Then he put it to his lips and blew one long blast. Mel recognized it instantly, the sound clear and powerful, the same horn call she had heard in Isengard that had brought a hoard of orcs up short. It still made her pulse pound and her body quake.
The sound reverberated through the trees and finally echoed away leaving a breathless absence of sound in it's wake. Mel swallowed and waited anxiously. Movement in the corner of her eye made her jump and she whipped her head toward it, her hands white knuckled on Brytta's reins. A cloaked and hooded figure approached Boromir cautiously, step by patient step. The figure stopped within arm's reach, and finally pushed back his hood to reveal a long face with wide dark eyes staring up at Boromir in wordless awe. Then he placed his right fist on his chest and dropped into a sweeping bow.
"My lord, forgive me. The news came from Minas Tirith only days ago that you had fallen."
"It is forgotten," Boromir said with a forced cheerfulness, dismounting and clapping the man on the shoulder, "Right now all I desire is a warm fire, good food, and friendly company."
"Yes, my lord!" the man said, grinning, "I believe I can provide that."
"Excellent! Lead on, good Warden!"
Boromir took Deor's reins and Mel realized they would be walking the rest of the way. She slid from her saddle, trying to remain unnoticed, but her legs were tired from the long ride and she stumbled when her feet hit the ground, catching the attention of a young Warden that had just materialized out of the trees with several others. He caught her arm with a jovial smile.
"Easy there lad, watch your step."
Mel huffed in irritation and jerked her elbow away. The assumption that she was a guy was starting to get annoying. The young Gondorian got a clear view of her face then and (to his credit) immediately realized his mistake, stammering out a surprised apology.
"Oh… I… my lady, please forgive me, I would never… I mean, I didn't realize…"
She shrugged him off and dropped her eyes, pretending to straighten her cloak.
"Yes, I know. It's the hair. Don't worry about it."
The sound of her voice drew everyone's attention. She tried to ignore it, making a show of turning to Brytta and pulling the reins over her head, fiddling with her bridle until Boromir finally came to her rescue.
"Forgive me friends, I have not introduced my traveling companion."
He took her elbow and gently tugged her around to face the Wardens. Mel had trouble meeting any of their eyes.
"This is Melody Bernston of Rivendell. She has traveled with me for a very long while since then."
Mel noticed that the lie fell more easily from his tongue than it had in Rohan. Practice made perfect. She managed a small smile in the general direction of the men surrounding her. Most just nodded, a few smiled back with slightly puzzled expressions, and a few others looked more… shocked? Troubled? Mel couldn't find the right word to describe the looks on their faces, but there was definitely an awkward air to the group.
The first Warden, who seemed to be in charge, took a step toward her and saluted her with a hand over his heart.
"I am Elenion, third lieutenant in the army of Gondor. Come, supper is ready and waiting for us."
He turned toward the campfire glowing in the distance, and Boromir and Mel followed after him. Mel noticed that most of the other men weren't going with them, instead melting back into the trees in pairs. The night watch, maybe? That made sense.
Elenion led them confidently through the darkened forest until they emerged in a small clearing that housed the Beacon Wardens of Halfirien. There were several small cabins built in a semi circle facing away from the mountain's slope, curving around a small cooking fire. A few men sat on logs around the fire and they all turned to look when the three newcomers stepped into the circle. Before anyone could speak, Elenion started giving orders, calmly but firmly.
"Brilruin, take the horses and tend them. Cristion, see that separate chambers are made ready. The lord Boromir and his guest will be staying with us tonight."
There was a moment of shocked pause. Then all the men scrambled to their feet, saluting with the fist to the chest and bowing. Two of the men broke away from the main group, scurrying to do as they'd been told, one running off toward the cabins, the other (with hair even more fiery than Gimli's) took the horses from them, leading them to a lean-to on the opposite end of the clearing which held a few other horses ready. The other men stood around the fire, frozen with indecision. Boromir returned their salute which seemed to put them at a bit more ease, but without Brytta standing beside her, Mel was now left to their full scrutiny. And she definitely felt the awkwardness now.
Elenion stepped further into the circle and gestured at the young man standing closest to the big, black pot over the fire, a ladle held loosely in his dumbfounded hand.
"Anaril, don't just sit there like a fool!" Elenion exclaimed good-naturedly, "Get our guests some dinner! And some for me while you're about it!"
The young man jerked out of his daze and gripped his ladle more firmly, nodding decisively.
"Of course, sir."
While Anaril portioned out a delicious smelling stew and broke bread into it, Elenion took a seat among the men and gestured that everyone else should do likewise. Mel wasn't quite sure what she should do. On the one hand, she really wanted to stay as close to Boromir as possible. He was the only person she knew out of all these men and she had no problem admitting that she felt pretty uncomfortable. On the other hand, the last thing she wanted was to look like a clingy, frightened woman. Because she wasn't. Nope. Definitely not. In the end, she sat next to Boromir, but kept a little bit of distance between them, just so they weren't touching. She took her bowl with a quiet smile and proceeded to try to disappear into the shadows as best she could without actually moving.
An unusual quiet had settled over the forest. Oh, the trees were talking like mad, but as for the other common woodland noises, animals and such, there wasn't much of anything. The whole place felt very solemn. And there was something else too, something Mel couldn't quite place, but felt almost… familiar. Like something from a dream she only half remembered. Even the Wardens seemed to sense it instinctively, speaking in hushed tones as they discussed the daily happenings, orc activity, the rumors from the travelers of Rohan about the trouble there. Inevitably, the discussion turned homeward.
"There has been a great deal of darkness passing to and fro in the land since you left, my lord," Elenion said, "More Easterlings are sighted daily, orcs harry the borders in Ithilien. Osgiliath is only held by a handful of men. It is good that you have come back to us at last."
"What do you mean by a handful of men?" Boromir asked, "I left Osgiliath with a fully armed battalion."
"Lord Denethor has been drawing men back into Minas Tirith steadily since your departure. He says that there will be enough, but…"
Elenion cut his sentence short, as if suddenly realizing who he was speaking to. He hung his head.
"Of course, we trust to your father's wisdom." He murmured.
Boromir did not seem to know what to say. He gave Mel a quick glance, asking questions with his eyes that she couldn't answer, not in this company. Besides she was still trying to wrap her mind around the declaration of Boromir's death. How could they think Boromir was dead? There was no funeral boat, no horn cloven in two. What could possibly spark such a rumor?
Elenion looked up again and his eyes shone.
"But my lord, now that you have returned the people will be most cheered. A gloom has hovered over the land for a great while. Your father will be so pleased to see that you are well. Will you make haste early tomorrow?"
"Yes, we will leave shortly after dawn," Boromir said, sounding slightly distracted, "I wish to visit Elendil's resting place before I depart."
Mel's head shot up.
"Elendil?" she squeaked involuntarily and immediately wished she hadn't. All the men turned to look at her curiously. She felt heat rush to her cheeks and she dropped her eyes back to her bowl, swirling her spoon in the broth.
"Sorry."
"Do you not know the story, Melody?"
Boromir's voice was kind, but Mel was so embarrassed that she almost lied. Fortunately she was too curious to let her embarrassment get the best of her. She shook her head without looking up, her cheeks still burning. She could just imagine all of them staring at her, shocked that she didn't know… whatever it was that she clearly should have known.
"Well," Elenion said pleasantly, "It is certainly a good night for it. The Valar seem very present this evening."
Mel was encouraged by his tone and risked a glance up. Everyone looked very relaxed. Elenion was leaning back against a log, his long legs stretched out. A few of the men had lit pipes. They were all waiting. Mel looked up at Boromir. He glanced between the men, and then sighed with a sort of long-suffering fondness.
"Alright then, I shall tell it. But mind you, I am not a very good story-teller."
Elenion waved away his protests as if they were trivial.
"It is only right that it come from the Steward's son."
"Very well."
Boromir leaned back and gathered his thoughts. A hush fell, even over the trees in Mel's head. He took a deep breath, and began.
"During the War of the Last Alliance, Elendil the Faithful, King of Gondor, fell defeating the very same Lord of the Darkness that we fight today. His son and heir, Isildur took his body and went in search of a proper resting place. At that time the kingdom of Gondor was vast, stretching much farther to the north, encompassing the kingdom that we now know as Rohan. Isildur drew up the boundaries of his kingdom and saw that the noble mountain of Eilenaer stood at the center of his realm. He therefore entombed his noble father on that peak."
Boromir gestured up the slope of the mountain and Mel looked up, searching the darkened forest in vain.
"To protect the fallen king from desecration, Isildur called on the power of the Valar themselves, to watch over this hill and forever guard it from evil. His call was answered, his wish granted, and thenceforth the place was called Amon Anwar, for awe fell over the mountain and all that dwelt there. Even to this day, the presence of the Valar is felt, though the bones of Elendil have since been entombed in Gondor. Every king, and every Steward that has ruled in the king's stead, takes the one who is to be his heir to Amon Anwar, now Halfirien, to stand before the power of the Valar and be humbled by the greatness that has gone before us."
Boromir bowed his head for a moment, deep in thought or memory or both. Mel stared at the tree covered hill, her mind whirling. Somewhere up there, Elendil had rested. Elendil, one of the greatest kings in the history of Gondor. She shivered. When she turned back, Boromir was smiling at her.
"And now you know the tale, Melody." He said.
She swallowed.
"Thank you." She said, her voice hoarse and quiet.
"Lady Melody," Elenion said, sitting up curiously, "You hail from Rivendell? I was sure they told the old stories often in Lord Elrond's house."
Mel opened her mouth and then closed it. She had no reply. Luckily Boromir came to her rescue, laughing and clapping Elenion on the back.
"Come, Elenion, surely you can not expect her to have heard and remember all the tales they tell around those fires."
Elenion glanced up at Boromir and his face crinkled in a smile, but Mel thought it didn't quite reach his eyes. She didn't blame him. It was slightly suspicious and he had every right to question her. She just didn't have any answers to give him. She turned back to her forgotten stew and finished it quickly, thinking… What would she say when she got to Minas Tirith? She couldn't just waltz in and expect no one to ask any questions. What about her family? They would expect her to have family, and friends, and a history that actually made sense! Somehow Mel just didn't think the "falling out of the sky" story was going to go over too well with most people. The elves had been fairly open-minded, but she didn't want to spend all her time convincing the people of Gondor that she was telling the truth. It was pointless anyway.
"I'll take that, my lady."
The soft voice broke into her thoughts and made her jump. Anaril was smiling kindly at her, holding out his hand for her bowl. He seemed very young to be out here, maybe sixteen, much younger than the other men. She wondered if this was his first assignment. She smiled and let him take her bowl.
"Thank you. It was very good." She said.
His smile widened just a fraction and he bowed his head before he hurried away. Mel sighed and straightened out her legs, trying to suppress a grimace. Her muscles were seizing up. Fantastic. She was going to look like an idiot trying to get off the ground. And sleeping was going to be very uncomfortable. Elenion stood as if on cue.
"My lord, you and Lady Melody must be very tired. Allow me to show you to your beds."
Boromir nodded and stood, offering Mel a hand. She took it and if he noticed that she used his support just a little more than usual, he didn't let it show. They were led to a cabin on the far side of the encampment. It wasn't until they got inside that Mel realized just how deceiving the size was. There were two rooms, each with four beds and little else. Mel could see her bag on a bed in one room and Boromir's in another. And she realized something terrible. They were putting her in a room with four beds. And she was pretty sure they didn't expect her to share. Which meant that not just one, but three men were without a bed because of her. She felt awful.
"I don't really need the room," Mel said, taking a step back from the open door, "I don't want anyone put out, you know, because of me. I can just, sleep outside, or something. I hate to be a bother."
She looked at their faces and knew it was a lost cause. Both men were staring at her as if she'd gone crazy.
"Lady Melody, you needn't fear for our comfort, though the thought is kind of you," Elenion said, "Those beds belong to men who are on the night watch tonight. I assure you, no one is bothered by your presence."
"Oh," Mel said, fighting her blush again, "Then, uh, thank you."
"You are most welcome. A pleasant night to you both."
Elenion nodded to Mel and saluted Boromir, before he walked back to the fireside.
Boromir met Mel's eyes steadily.
"If you need anything…" he began.
"…I know where to find you." Mel finished, smiling.
Boromir paused for a moment. Then he nodded decisively and turned into the other room, closing the door behind him. Mel let out a long breath and did the same. Her legs hurt like hell, and she was exhausted. She had just enough energy to toss her bag on the floor and pull the covers over her before her eyelids fell closed and she slept.