Chapter 24

They stopped briefly at Min-Rimmon just before noon. They were greeted warmly and the Wardens insisted they stay and have lunch. Boromir explained while they ate that they were moving on to Erelas that same day. An uneasy pause followed.

"My lord, are you sure?" asked the captain, a solemn man with a long face, "There have been disturbing reports in this area of late. They say orcs run in the mountains close to Erelas."

"We will reach the safety of camp by nightfall, I assure you." Boromir said, easily.

No one else questioned him, but their doubts made Mel nervous. Orcs in the mountains? That was the last thing she wanted to deal with. What if they didn't make it by nightfall? She hated to think what might happen if… She shivered and sipped her soup.

They ate quickly, were given fresh horses, and sent on their way. Mel was on edge and she caught herself glancing over her shoulder and jumping at shadows more often than not. They were still on open plains, so there were no trees to give them warning. They had no cover, no defense. Mel suddenly wished that she had said something in Min-Rimmon, that she had asked Boromir not to move on. Too late now. They kept a furious pace through most of the afternoon, slowing only for brief periods to rest the horses, but never stopping completely. They didn't speak. Boromir looked like his mind was occupied with other things, and it would have been difficult to keep up a conversation at the pace he set anyway. So Mel was left alone with her fear and overactive imagination.

The sun began to sink slowly toward the horizon and Mel didn't see any sign of a camp. Her nerves started to tingle. They were too far away. They had to be. She should see something by now. A bird screeched and she jumped, her heart racing. Boromir glanced at her, but she waved him away. She tried to take solace in the fact that he still didn't seem worried, just distracted. That was good. Wasn't it? The sun fell farther still, the sky starting to turn burnt orange. Mel thought she saw a grove of trees in the distance, nestled against the mountains. But there was still no sign of human life. It would be dark soon. The horses were tired; she could hear their labored breathing in the silence of the dusk. The shadows started playing tricks with her mind. She saw monsters in the dark. She tried to ignore them, tried to keep focused on Boromir, following him. She was trying not to lose it.

Boromir jerked his horse to a halt and Mel did the same, her heart in her throat. Why had he stopped? Had he seen something? Heard something? His eyes swept the orange-tinted mountains, scanning the boulders, the nooks, the crannies. Mel did the same. She jumped when she thought she saw a shadow move, but then it went still. She moved on. Another shadow skittered in her vision, then disappeared. She was losing her mind, she was sure of it. She was about to ask Boromir what was wrong, just to break the silence, to keep from panicking…

A shrill screech split the air, followed by that horrifyingly familiar cackle. Boromir wheeled his horse around.

"Run!" he shouted.

Mel caught a surge of movement from the shadows before she kicked her horse and together they made a mad dash for the distant forest. She kept her eyes fixed on the trees, but a group of shadows emerged out of the mountains in her peripheral vision, surging toward them, screaming and cackling.

We'll never make it! The orcs were closing in, she could feel it. We'll never make it!

They ran as hard and as fast as they could. The trees were looming, Mel could feel their presence, screaming in her head.

"Run, Calenhiril! Run!"

She was so close….

Her horse was jerked back with an ear-piercing squeal and Mel shrieked as she was flung to the ground. She rolled and tried to scramble to her feet, searching for the safety of the trees that she could still hear crying out for her. But she had barely made it to her knees when she was kicked in the side and hit the ground hard on her back. A huge orc with twisted teeth grinned down at her, sword poised over her throat.

"Won't you make a nice evenin' snack." He gurgled.

Mel's mind lurched and she lost herself. She could see the orc above her, and she could see a thousand others, faces blurring and flashing in front of her in a rapid succession that made her dizzy and sick. She saw Lurtz, and the Uruk-hai that had kept her prisoner, and even Saruman's twisted rage and beady eyes. Here was everything she was afraid of. Mel flung her arms over her face and screamed.

A silver horn rang out, echoing over the mountains and shuddering wildly in her chest and for a moment, Mel's mind came back to her. The orc paused, his blade raised over his head. Then a sword point exploded out of his chest, scattering black drops of blood He gurgled once and fell over dead. Boromir stood over her, reaching for her hand.

"Come on!" he urged.

Mel grabbed his hand and he pulled her to her feet. As they ran for the forest, Boromir blew the horn again. Mel's mind was racing, racing back through her memories, through Moria and Amon Hen and Isengard. She ran blindly, Boromir's hand the only thing solid, the only thing she knew she could trust. She could hear Saruman's mad laughter mixed in with the cackle of the orcs.

Then Boromir let go of her hand.

"Run for the forest!" he ordered as he drew his sword and turned back toward the pack of orcs.

But Mel was lost now. She saw him, she heard the orcs, she heard the screaming of the trees, begging her to run, to come to them. But she was paralyzed by her whirling mind, frightened and confused beyond movement. Was this Isengard? Was it Moria? Where was she? What should she do?

Boromir ran his sword through two orcs, but a third caught him from behind and knocked his feet from under him. He landed hard on his back and the orc lifted its sword to run it through his throat. Mel was helpless, useless, gripped by unfathomable terror…

A flash and a roll like thunder split the clear evening sky, and a woman's familiar voice echoed from the mountain peaks.

"NOT YET!"

The orcs paused and skittered. Mel cowered, staring at the empty sky. Then she heard a twang and a thunk. She jerked her gaze back down. A black arrow had sprouted in the orc's chest. Boromir kicked him and he fell backward, dead. Several more twangs sounded behind her and three more orcs stumbled and fell. Boromir jumped to his feet and ran to her, grabbing her hand again.

"Run!" he yelled, dragging her after him toward the trees.

She could see more arrows soaring out of the forest and she heard the death screams of orcs behind her, but she focused on Boromir's hand, following wherever he led her. Finally they were in the woods, running beneath trees that swayed and creaked in the windless twilight. Mel heard the rush of footfalls all around them, following them, but the sound of orcs died away until it was nothing. When she finally worked up the courage to look, she could see a fire burning brightly through the trees and in a few moments they had burst into a small clearing, housing a group of the familiar cabins that served as homes for the Wardens of the Beacons.

They stumbled to a halt, several of the Wardens following in their wake and surrounding them, their faces grim and alert. Mel felt like she couldn't catch her breath. Her hands started to tremble and before she knew it her whole body was shaking. Boromir felt it and quickly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and rubbing her arms.

"It's alright, Melody," He whispered into her hair, "It's alright now, we're safe. It's going to be alright."

But she knew that it really wasn't alright. She knew now, more than ever, that something was seriously wrong with her. She had never felt that sort of paralyzing fear before in her life, not in Moria, not at Amon Hen, not in Isengard. Boromir had nearly… and she hadn't even been able to determine where she was! Shame burned her face and she buried her head in his shoulder, more out of humiliation than wanting his comfort. She couldn't bear to face the men who had saved them. They had risked their lives and she had done nothing. Boromir continued to whisper soothing words, but they fell on deaf ears. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong and Mel needed to do something to fix it. Quickly.

An unfamiliar voice broke through her despair, but she still didn't look up.

"Lord Boromir, we were not expecting you for another day at least."

"I know," Boromir said, "I was trying to save a day's travel. Please, Warden, do you have anything to spare us for supper? All our supplies…"

"Come, my lord, we have plenty." The Warden said kindly.

Boromir never let go of her, only led her forward, toward the fire. Mel could see its light from the corner of her eye and feel its warmth. Boromir guided her to seat on a log, making sure to sit next to her, his arm still around her. Even though Mel felt that she had finally regained her senses, she didn't try to move away. These men had already seen her as the frightened, useless woman; there was no reason to try to act otherwise. She kept her head down, staring at her feet, the sick feeling of worthlessness eating away at her insides.

When a bowl of soup was brought to her, she whispered only a single word of thanks as she took it, never looking up. How could she possibly look these people in the eye? They had saved her when she hadn't done anything to save herself. Boromir took a bowl for himself and that was the first time since they'd arrived that he was forced to move his arm from around her shoulders. It felt cold and lonely. Mel slid to the ground and pulled her knees up close to her chest, sipping her soup and staring into the fire. There was hushed conversation around her, but she couldn't distinguish words. It was like she was hearing it all through a fog. All she could think about was the fear and the anguish and the shame. What was wrong with her? Why hadn't she done something? Why had she just stood there?

She didn't know how long she sat and stared, but at some point she realized the camp had gone quiet. She risked a glance up and saw that the fire had died down considerably and there was no one besides her and Boromir. He was sitting quietly beside her, staring into the fire as well. She watched the glow reflect off his face, his expression smooth and thoughtful. And then he spoke.

"I am sorry for what happened."

She jerked back, surprised. He was apologizing?
"We should never have left Min-Rimmon. I knew the risk and I took it anyway. It was thoughtless and selfish of me."

He looked down, staring at his fist resting on his knee.

"I just hope that someday you can forgive me." he whispered.

For a moment Mel was speechless. It had never occurred to her that this might be Boromir's fault. It wasn't Boromir's fault! The idea was ludicrous!

"If anyone should be apologizing, it's me," she said bitterly, turning her face back to the fire, "We almost died and I didn't do anything. I just stood there like an idiot."

"You were afraid…"

"That's not the point!" Mel snapped, clenching her fists. Then she relaxed and felt tears come to her eyes.

"Boromir?"

He met her eyes steadily.

"I don't want to be scared anymore. I don't want to live like this, I can't live like this. I don't want to be afraid to go to sleep, or wonder what I'm gonna do the next time…" She choked on the words and took a deep breath, "You said you'd listen when I was ready. I think I'm as ready as I know how to be. I don't know how to do this by myself."

There was a pause of only a moment. Then Boromir slowly reached out and traced the scar that ran across her forehead.

"Tell me," he whispered, "Tell me what happened."