The Power of Love -- A Dynasty Broken Book III

By Adara
ckyser@yahoo.com
 

Rating: GP-13 (Due to some mature topics)

Category: Romance/Drama (A/U)

Era: Third Age, Ring War

This is the first chapter of The Power of Love, the final book of A 
Dynasty Broken. However, you do not need to read the other two parts 
to follow this story, which can be read alone and easily followed. I 
include the recap below to get you up to speed if this is your first 
journey into my world.

Synopsis: I read in The Treason of Isengard, History of Middle-Earth 
Part 2, that Tolkien had included a daughter for Theoden King in an 
early draft of LOTR. He named her Idis. He also had plans to include a 
marital alliance between Gondor and Rohan. Tolkien discarded both the 
daughter and the marriage. However, it gave me an idea for my story, 
in which Denethor and Theoden arrange a political marriage for their 
children. In the first book, Love and Lust, Boromir becomes betrothed 
to the Princess of Rohan, who is named Eledwhen. She is raped shortly 
before the marriage takes place and flees Minas Tirith. Boromir tracks 
Eledwhen, learns of the rape, and decides to take her with him to 
Imladris. Boromir is seriously injured during the journey while 
fighting brigands. Eledwhen and Haldir, Elf of Lorien, save his life 
and the three travel to Lorien. At the end of Love and Lust, Boromir 
and Eledwhen exchange vows and become man and wife. She becomes 
pregnant with the man of Gondor's child.

The second book, Paths of Peril, takes Boromir to Imladris and relates 
the relationship between Boromir and Aragorn before and after the Man 
of Gondor learns about Aragorn's heritage. It is a study in how a man 
reared to be the Steward of Gondor deals with the man who would be 
King of Gondor. I left the Fellowship outside the gates of Moria after 
Gandalf's fall to the Balrog. The Princess of Rohan becomes ill and 
Boromir learns she may lose his child.

This book, The Power of Love, reunites Boromir and Eledwhen. The 
Princess will eventually leave Lorien with the Fellowship. The 
question is, can she save the man she loves from the One Ring? This is 
the way I wish Tolkien's Lord of the Rings had been written, since I 
am fond of Boromir. I hope you take the time to read Love and Lust and 
Paths of Peril if you haven't already. I must stress that all three 
books in my trilogy are A/U.

Once again, to maintain the flavor of Tolkien's original writings, I 
have used some of the Master's wording verbatim. Some of the words are 
paraphrased, but most are mine. I am not making any money off of this, 
so I hope the professor's heirs don't mind. Thanks to Tolkien for his 
wonderful imagination.






Reunion

The night wind was chilly as the Fellowship approached Lothlorien, the 
realm of the Galadrim. The remaining eight members could hear an 
endless rustle of leaves like poplars in the breeze. Although it was 
evening, they could see tall trees before them, arched over the road 
and stream that ran beneath their spreading boughs. A hint of fallow 
gold still clung to the quivering leaves, despite the winter chill. 
Aragorn stood listening, the hint of a smile on his face.

"Lothlorien!" he breathed softly. "Glad am I to hear again the wind in 
the trees. We are little more than five leagues from the gates, but we 
can go no farther tonight."

Boromir stood restlessly beside the stream. He was anxious to finish 
this leg of the journey and reach Caras Galadon. "I see no reason why 
we cannot push on. There is no shelter here from the orcs of Moria 
that surely hunt us."

Aragorn shook his head resolutely. "Long has it been since I visited 
these woods; I do not wish to travel within while dark remains. Nor 
can the hobbits continue much farther. We must find a place to camp 
for the night." Boromir started to protest, but the Ranger's dark look 
silenced him.

The members of the Company had walked little more than a mile into the 
forest when they came upon another stream. "Here is Nimrodel!" said 
Legolas. "Of this stream the Silvan Elves made many songs long ago, 
and still we sing them in the North."

Gimli grimaced and growled, "Surely you are not going to sing! All the 
orcs of Moria on our trail and you look as though you are about to 
burst into song!"

Legolas glared at the dwarf, but it was Boromir who spoke. "Would you 
two be quiet? I am sick to death of listening to the two of you 
quarrel! You are worse than a couple of children." Angrily he stomped 
to the water's edge, climbed down the steep bank and stepped into the 
stream. "It is not deep. The little ones should have no trouble 
crossing." The rest of the Fellowship followed his lead and tiredly 
crossed the Nimrodel.

Once on the other side, they sat and rested. Sam rummaged through the 
packs and found food for them to eat. Legolas gave Gimli a hard stare, 
then launched into tales of Lothlorien that had been held for years 
uncounted by the Elves of Mirkwood. "Do you hear the voice of 
Nimrodel?" Legolas asked. He then proceeded to sing the maiden's tale 
in the Westron Speech. Gimli started to speak, but remained silent 
when Aragorn drew his dagger and began cleaning his nails. The dwarf 
had not missed the Ranger's warning look.

After Legolas finished the song they all remained silent, each caught 
up in the beauty of the tale. At length Gimli brought up the subject 
of where they would sleep for the night. "The Galadrim may be able to 
dwell in trees, but most of us are not Elves." He cast a worried 
glance across the stream to the road that led back to Dimrill Dale.

Aragorn stirred and stared at the dark boughs above them. "I believe 
we shall be safer in the trees than on the ground. We have sat beside 
the road longer than is wise."

The four hobbits looked skeptically at the towering trees about them. 
Sam spoke for them all: "You won't get me up into one of those trees. 
Hobbits do not sleep in trees!"

The dwarf stood up and hefted his axe in his hands. "Well said, Master 
Gamgee. We are of the same mind. I will remain on the ground with the 
hobbits. The rest of you climb to your hearts' content. I shall keep 
my feet planted firmly upon the ground."

Aragorn gave the son of Gloin a withering stare, then proceeded deeper 
into the wood. Not far from the falls of Nimrodel they found a cluster 
of trees, some of which overhung the stream. Legolas walked up to one 
very large tree and touched it reverently. "I will climb up for I, at 
least, am at home among trees. However, I have never climbed in one of 
these mellyrn trees."

The Elf sprang lightly upward and grasped a branch that grew high 
above his head; however, he let go and dropped quickly back onto the 
ground when a voice spoke suddenly in a commanding tone: "Daro!"

Only Boromir did not look disconcerted by the disembodied voice coming 
from the shadow of the trees about them, for he recognized the Elven 
voice. "Stand still," said Legolas in a hushed tone. "Do not move or 
speak!"

There was the sound of silvery laughter from high above their heads. 
Legolas looked over at Boromir, who was shaking his head and laughing 
quietly. The Elf frowned but remained silent. He jumped backward as a 
silver-gray rope ladder curled downward from the shadows above. It 
glimmered slightly in the moonlight. The Elven voice broke the silence 
again and Legolas translated. "They are Elves of Lothlorien and they 
say that we are so noisy they could shoot us in the dark. But they 
seem to know something about us and have asked that I climb up and 
speak with them."

Legolas started to climb the Elven ladder, but Boromir's sharp words 
stilled him. "If Haldir of Lorien wants to speak with us, let him come 
down. I am not in the mood for his games." Another silvery laugh 
erupted from the boughs above them and a tall Elf moved gracefully 
down the ladder.

"I was wondering when you would finally find your way back," the Elf 
said to Boromir, who looked at him anxiously.

"I hope all is well within the Golden Wood, Haldir of Lorien," Boromir 
said formally.

Haldir frowned and glanced about at the rest of the Fellowship. "You 
come none too soon, but we shall not speak of that now. The Lady told 
us you would be arriving; we have looked for your coming for several 
days. I worried that some evil had befallen you on your journey." 
Haldir looked about him, then froze, seemingly startled. He looked 
questioningly at Aragorn, who gave his head a minute shake. Haldir 
turned to the tree behind him and looked upward to the shadows. He 
spoke a few words in the Silvan dialect and was answered in kind.

Aragorn turned to his companions. "Frodo, Sam and Legolas will climb 
up and I will follow. Do not be afraid, for the Elves will not harm 
you." The last he added because both hobbits looked decidedly fearful. 
Legolas scampered up the rope easily and was followed reluctantly by 
Sam and Frodo. Aragorn gripped the rope ladder firmly and began 
climbing.

"Surely they do not intend to leave us alone down here!" Pippin cried. 
"What about the orcs?"

In answer to his question, Elven ladders descended from two other 
trees. "I believe those are for us," said Boromir, walking to the tree 
nearest the one Haldir and the others were in. "Pippin, Merry, if you 
would come here." The two hobbits exchanged worried looks but 
obediently walked to where the man stood. Boromir steadied the ladder 
as the two laboriously climbed upward. Once the ladder became still in 
his hand, he looked at Gimli and nodded his head to the tree where the 
other ladder dangled. "That one, I believe, is meant for us. After 
you, Master Dwarf."

Gimli looked dubiously at the slender ladder and shook his head. "I am 
not a Tree Elf and do not belong up there. I will take my rest down 
here."

"Dig a hole if that is more to your liking, Master Dwarf. But it will 
not hide you from the orcs which, even now, draw near our border." 
Haldir had come up silently behind the dwarf and was now looking down 
at him with an amused expression that belied the seriousness of his 
demeanor. Gimli snorted and looked up at Boromir.

"Are YOU going up, man of Gondor?"

Boromir smiled innocently. "Of course. I have become rather fond of 
sleeping in trees." He and Haldir shared a wicked grin before the man 
began climbing the ladder. Still grumbling, Gimli awkwardly followed.

* * * * * * * *

Boromir and Haldir sat side by side on the wide flet high in one of 
the ancient mallorn trees. Gimli was snoring loudly, despite his 
protests that he would never be able to sleep in a tree. "How is 
Eledwhen?" the man asked.

"She is well enough," Haldir replied noncommittally.

Boromir tried to glean the meaning behind the rather laconic answer, 
but gave up since he could see almost nothing of the Elf's face in the 
gloom. "And the child?"

Haldir sighed. "I think it is best that you speak with the Princess. I 
do not like to speak for others."

The man gripped the Elf's arm roughly. Haldir winced painfully at the 
contact but did not attempt to remove the other's hand. "If my son is 
dead you must tell me. It will give me time to prepare myself before 
reaching your city."

Haldir drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I am sorry, but 
your wife miscarried two nights ago. The Lord and Lady could do 
nothing to prevent it. I am sorry, truly." The Elf heard what sounded 
like a strangled sob. He turned to look back toward Caras Galadon, 
allowing the man some privacy.

"I know this is a difficult thing to bear, but you are both still 
young enough to conceive more children. The Lady Galadriel says that 
the Princess has suffered no permanent injury, so there is no reason 
why she cannot yet bear you a son."

Boromir clasped the Elf's shoulder as though to say "thank you" and 
moved to the edge of the flet. He became aware that the dwarf was no 
longer snoring. If he is not asleep, then he has heard all that was 
said. No matter, for he will hear it soon enough. I should have ridden 
straight to Lorien instead of accompanying the Fellowship. But if I 
had, one of the Halflings might have died in Moria. It seems that I am 
cursed. Boromir pulled his cloak tightly about him to ward off the 
chill wind. He spent the rest of the night planning how best to help 
Eledwhen deal with the tragedy of losing their child. Haldir was 
right. He could father another son, but the loss would be devastating 
for Eledwhen.

* * * * * * * * *

Haldir and his brother, Rumil, lead the Company to Caras Galadon. It 
took a full day, at the end of which Boromir's nerves were strained 
thin. Haldir finally lead the Company up to a high flet within a 
circle of white trees and bid them look South. All were able to see a 
hill of many mighty trees; it appeared to be a city of green towers. 
"Caras Galadon," said Boromir, letting out a long breath. "Finally."

Haldir smiled gently. "Not yet. It will be nightfall ere we reach my 
city. Be patient." A look of pity momentarily crossed the Elf's fair 
face; he turned and began the climb back down the rope ladder. Aragorn 
clasped Boromir's shoulder gently before following the Elf.

Gimli paused before following the others and turned to face the 
Gondorian. "Sometimes bad things happen and we cannot see the reason 
for it. I hope you find your wife well." The dwarf seemed suddenly 
embarrassed and hastened down the ladder. I knew he wasn't asleep, 
Boromir thought wryly. Now everybody probably knows my business. Tears 
sprang to his eyes and he dashed them away with the back of a gloved 
hand before beginning his descent.

* * * * * * * * *

Night came beneath the trees of Lorien and the Elven guides uncovered 
their silver lamps. Ahead Boromir could make out the high, green walls 
of the Elven city. "Welcome to Caras Galadon," Haldir said for the 
benefit of those who were seeing the city for the first time. "Here 
dwell the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn. However, we cannot 
enter here for the gates do not face the North. We must go round."

The Company walked westward and finally came to a halt before a white 
bridge, beyond which lay the great gates of the city. Boromir placed a 
hand upon Haldir's shoulder and whispered, "I want to see Eledwhen as 
soon as possible." Haldir nodded and led them to the gates, which 
opened as though by magic. At last they reached the lawn of the 
fountain, and the home of the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. A very 
tall Elf appeared by Boromir's side and indicated that the man should 
follow him.

"Where do you suppose he is going?" Merry asked.

"You ask too many questions," Aragorn replied, giving the hobbit a 
stern stare. Silently they followed the path that Boromir had taken 
many times during his stay in Lorien. Merry looked at Boromir's back 
as the man walked away; there were unshed tears in his eyes.

* * * * * * * * *

The tall Elf led Boromir to Eledwhen's room and left as silently as he 
had arrived. The man hesitated, then swept the curtain aside and 
entered. The Princess of Rohan was alone and sleeping. Boromir walked 
quietly to the bed and stood looking down at her still form. She is so 
pale and thin. It's as though I can almost see right through her. He 
pulled a chair to the bedside and sat watching her.

* * * * * * * * *

The Princess of Rohan was dreaming. She was in a slender, gray canoe 
that was moving swiftly down the wide Anduin River. She stared forward 
and saw Boromir in a similar boat with a small child-like creature 
sitting in the prow. Somehow she knew he was a Halfling, perhaps the 
one in Boromir's dream. Eledwhen looked about and saw two more gray 
boats, but the occupants were too shadowy to be seen clearly. She 
caught up to Boromir's boat and studied the man intently. Something 
was wrong with him; she could tell by the haunted look on his face and 
the shivers that gripped him from time to time. His eyes kept shifting 
to the boat directly in front of his, which was being steered by a 
dark-featured man. Two more Halflings were huddled in its prow.

As Eledwhen watched, Boromir rowed his boat forward until it was 
almost touching the stern of the boat in front of it. He peered 
anxiously at one of the small creatures. Eledwhen did not like the 
feverish look in his eyes. "Boromir!" she cried, reaching toward his 
boat. Almost immediately the scene changed and she was standing in a 
grassy place ringed by Rowan trees. In the midst was a wide, flat 
stone; upon it sat the small Halfling from the boat. As the Princess 
studied the Halfling, Boromir stepped out of the woods; he stood 
motionless, staring at the creature on the stone. They began speaking 
to one another but Eledwhen could not hear the words. As the 
conversation progressed, Boromir became highly agitated and the 
Halfling began to back away from him. She watched the man she loved 
lunge at the other, knocking it to the ground; he seemed to be trying 
to take something that hung on a slender chain about the small 
creature's neck. As she watched the struggle, the Halfling suddenly 
disappeared. She knew Boromir had seen it, too, because he looked 
incredibly startled and bewildered.

The scene shifted again and the Princess heard the desperate call of a 
horn. Boromir stood in a little glade and watched grimly as an army of 
orcs and large Uruks rushed toward him. Behind him stood two very 
frightened Halflings. Almost too terrified to breathe, Eledwhen 
watched her husband fight desperately, stopping only to put the Horn 
of Gondor to his lips and blow deep-throated calls for help. No help 
came, however, and Boromir once more began meeting the steel of the 
orcs' weapons with the steel of his great sword.

Eledwhen knew the situation was hopeless unless the companions she had 
seen in the boats came to Boromir's aid. Her visions either came to 
pass, or they did not; either way, there was nothing she could do to 
change the outcome. The first orc arrow struck Boromir's body, 
throwing him backward against a large tree. The arrow was followed by 
many more. Eledwhen screamed repeatedly until the vision faded.

The world about the Princess brightened once more as a gray day upon 
the plains of Rohan unfolded before her. She looked about and saw many 
Rohirrim warriors fighting desperately against overwhelming odds. 
Thousands of orcs and Uruks -- many wearing the symbol of the White 
Hand -- hurled themselves madly against the shieldwall defense. The 
Rohirrim had tightly closed ranks and were using their shields as 
protection from the seemingly endless barrage of arrows.

On a knoll not far from the battle, but near the Fords of Isen, stood 
her brother, Theodred. He was in deep conversation with Grimbold and 
Elfhelm. Nowhere did she see Eomer. Eledwhen watched as the largest of 
the Uruks began attacking her brother's position atop the knoll. The 
creatures seemed to multiply in numbers as the Rohirrim desperately 
killed them. Silently she prayed that Theodred would sound the 
retreat, but knew he would not. She began to cry when her brother 
entered the fray. Even though she marveled at how effortlessly he slew 
the mighty creatures, she knew his doom was sealed.

The world about her seemed to slow in time as a huge Uruk captain made 
his way past Theodred's personal guard and attacked him. Another great 
Uruk managed to fight its way through the line of Rohan's best 
warriors and slammed into Theodred from the side. The Prince tried to 
keep his balance and thrust his sword into the Uruk in front of him, 
but a third creature hit him from the other side and pinned him. The 
large Uruk captain grinned horribly as he raised his scimitar for the 
killing stroke. Eledwhen screamed again and again until her throat was 
too raw to make any more sounds. Slowly, she was enveloped by 
blackness.

* * * * * * * * *

Eledwhen could hear a man's voice over the sound of her terrified 
screams. She opened her eyes and thought she must be dreaming for 
Boromir was bending over her. He was extremely pale and she could 
plainly see worry lines etched into his brow. The Princess stopped 
screaming and tentatively touched the man's face. His flesh felt solid 
beneath her fingertips.

"Boromir. You're alive! Where is my brother?" Overwhelmed with relief, 
Eledwhen threw herself into his arms. The man held her tightly, 
wondering what she had seen that had terrified her so. A female Elf 
hurried in, saw the two wrapped in each other's arms, and raised a 
questioning eyebrow. Boromir dismissed her with a wave of a hand 
clasped behind Eledwhen's back. The Elf bowed and withdrew silently.

"It's alright. I am safe. 'Twas only a bad dream." Boromir gently 
stroked Eledwhen's long, golden hair as she clung desperately to him. 
Her voice was muffled against his chest when she finally spoke.

"It was so real. The orcs killed you! And Theodred… I saw his death 
upon the plains of Rohan. I could not live if you both should die. 
Please, do not leave me again." Boromir tightened his grip about her 
body and began to gently rock her. When she felt much calmer and in 
control of her emotions, Eledwhen pulled back until she could see his 
face.

"You see?" Boromir said with the hint of a smile, "I am no dream 
vision, but flesh and blood. The orcs did not kill me, and I am sure 
your brother lives as well. The news of death I bring is of Gandalf 
the Grey, who fell in the mines of Moria."

Eledwhen looked at him in confusion. There had been no wizard in her 
dreams. She started to speak, but Boromir silenced her with a deep 
kiss. Eagerly she returned his kiss until both had to break apart for 
want of air. The man's smile faded as he remembered that she was 
recuperating from the loss of their unborn child.

"Eledwhen, are you well? I know about the child." The girl began to 
cry and he hugged her to his breast. "Shush, dear heart. It is not the 
end of the world. There is still time for us to have children. This 
one was just not meant to be."

The Princess shuddered as the image of Boromir riddled with black orc 
arrows again filled her vision. His words seemed like wisdom, but her 
heart told her that his time on Middle-earth was limited to only a few 
short weeks.


----


Chapter 2 
A Brief Respite



This is another Rohan chapter. It takes place before the First Battle 
of the Fords of Isen, before Theodred's death. The events happening in 
this chapter occur about the same time as Boromir's return to Lorien.

A Brief Respite

Eowyn stood alone before the huge double doors that opened into 
Meduseld, the golden hall of Edoras. She was waiting for her brother 
and the Prince to return from battle. Always she stood just so when 
news of the men's imminent return reached the city. The winds sweeping 
wildly across the bare plains of Rohan blew her garments about her 
lithe frame as she stood motionless, staring frantically toward the 
North. Eomer and Theodred had led a host of riders to engage an army 
of orcs and men that had massed at the Fords of Isen.

The reports of their casualties had been grim. Almost half of the 
Rohirrim force had been lost during the battle, and the army of the 
enemy had not been destroyed. Pushed back across the Isen, yes, but 
not destroyed. Such a high price to pay for what surely will be only a 
brief respite, she thought glumly. As Eowyn stared fretfully across 
the rolling grassland, her uncle's chief counselor slithered to her 
side. She cringed inwardly but remained unchanged without.

"You wait in vain for your brother and cousin to return," Grima said. 
His voice held a note of triumph.

Eowyn squared her shoulders and turned to face the man she loathed 
more than any living thing. "They will come. You have not yet 
succeeded in leaving the Mark leaderless."

Grima's mouth twisted into a smirk. "My lady, you wound me deeply. I 
have no desire to see those you love fall in battle. However, my 
scouts say they both met their doom at the hands of the Uruks. Do not 
worry your pretty head, for I will take care of you and attend to all 
your needs."

Eowyn shuddered inwardly at the thought of being alone and at the 
Worm's mercy. "Your spies are wrong! Eomer and Theodred will return! 
And, if they do not, I shall never come to you for comfort. I would 
slay you first."

Grima started to respond, but a loud shout from the door wards drew 
his attention to a host of riders coming swiftly up the rutted road 
toward Edoras. He turned back to Eowyn, but she already was running 
down the steep steps. Go ahead and run, Lady of Rohan; you shall not 
find what you seek. As Grima turned, he caught sight of the door 
warden, Hama. He was watching Wormtongue closely, his hand tightly 
gripping the hilt of his sword. Grima gave him a superior stare before 
walking swiftly into the Golden Hall. He wanted to be with the King 
when news of his son's death came.

* * * * * * * * *

Eowyn watched breathlessly as the soldiers of the Riddermark swept 
toward the city's gates. She could not distinguish one man from 
another, for all were spattered with blood and gore. Vainly she 
searched for the King's banner, for there would she find Prince 
Theodred and, hopefully, her brother.

As the men of the Mark swept past her into the city, she cried out, 
"What news of the Prince? Where is the Lord Theodred?" Only one rider 
responded to her plea. He stood tall in his stirrups and pointed 
toward the rear of the column, then he was gone. Eowyn raced to the 
rear, where the wounded struggled. She stared in horror at the extent 
of the gruesome wounds inflicted upon Rohan's warriors, secretly 
hoping that the most grievously injured would soon find eternal peace. 
The sound of someone shouting her name scattered her thoughts; she 
raised a hand to block the blazing western sun and saw a dirty and 
gore-smeared warrior upon a lame horse. His arms encircled a man she 
did not recognize.

"Eomer!" She shouted, then began racing swiftly toward the two 
figures. When she was but a few feet from her brother she recognized 
the man in his arms. It was Theodred. "How badly is he hurt? Is he 
mortally injured?" Anxiously she stared at the Prince, trying to see 
the wounds beneath his blood-soaked armor.

"I am not dead yet," the Prince answered, his voice little more than a 
whisper. "I know Grima will be sorely disappointed."

Eowyn let her breath out in a rush. If Theodred was still able to joke 
about his condition, then the odds were good he would survive. "I 
shall run ahead and tell the healers to prepare for your coming. 
Eomer, ride as swiftly as your mount can stand." Gathering her long 
skirts up in her hands, Eowyn turned and raced back to the Golden 
Hall. As she entered the great gathering room, she saw two of 
Wormtongue's lackeys. "Tell your master he spoke too soon!" Before 
they could respond, she was moving swiftly toward the wing where the 
healers to the royal family lived and worked. Out of the corner of one 
eye, she saw Grima's men striding rapidly toward the hall of the King.

* * * * * * * * *

"Theodred, hold still! The healer needs to bind your side. You will 
die of infection if you continue to fight his ministrations." Eowyn 
was angry with her cousin because he refused to stay still long enough 
for the healer to tend the deep gash in his side. An orc had speared 
him with enough force to tear through his armor and hauberk. "Eomer, I 
asked you to hold him! Must I do everything myself?"

The Prince winced in pain as his cousin gripped him tightly under the 
armpits and held him steady so the healer could clean the wound. "Are 
you trying to kill me?" Theodred shouted. "That burns like fire! The 
orcs were gentler on the battlefield!"

The healer raised both bushy eyebrows and said dryly, "It would be 
easier to tend an orc! You were very fortunate, my Lord Prince, for 
there is more bruising than actual damage, though you did receive a 
rather nasty gash. However, it does not appear that the blade was 
poisoned and you should heal quickly." Finally finishing his duties, 
the healer bowed respectfully to the three in the room and departed. 
Eowyn sat down gently on the bed.

"Grima told me you were dead, cousin. Eomer as well. You should have 
seen him gloat!" The two men exchanged a surprised glance, which Eowyn 
immediately picked up on. "You know something. Tell me. I am the one 
who is alone and at Wormtongue's mercy, while you both ride to glory 
and honor. I will not be left out of your councils!"

Prince Theodred raised a bloodstained hand and waved it toward a table 
where a pitcher of ale had been placed. "I don't know how much more 
'glory' I can stand. Pour me a glass of ale and Eomer will tell you 
what we discovered at the Fords of Isen."

Eomer chuckled. "Pour me a glass as well, Sister. This will be a 
rather dry tale." Eowyn remained still for a moment, searching her 
brother's grim face for a hint of what they had discovered. However, 
his dirt- and blood-smudged face was unreadable.

Returning to the bed, Eowyn handed a glass to each man before resuming 
her place beside Theodred. His hand was shaking too badly for him to 
raise the glass to his mouth without spilling ale all over the sheets, 
so she grasped his hand and held it steady so that he could drink.

"Bless you, Eowyn. What would I do without you?"

Eowyn smiled at her cousin fondly. "I imagine you'd finally get 
married. You will never be able to take care of yourself. Honestly, 
off the battlefield you men are such babies!"

Caught by surprise, Eomer spit out the ale he had just sipped and 
started laughing. Theodred scowled at him. "Are you now trying to 
drown me, man? Is it not bad enough that you let that stupid Uruk 
skewer me?"

Eomer shook his head ruefully. "I was trying to save my own life. You 
are the older and more experienced warrior; I expected you to save 
me!" Both men began laughing so hard that tears sprang into their 
eyes. Eowyn felt a pang of longing so sharp it hurt. She had always 
felt left out of their lives and wanted badly to share in their 
battles. It isn't fair that I was born a woman! I have the heart of a 
man, though not the strength. Yet I am a shieldmaiden and also deserve 
the right to defend Rohan.

Seeing that the Prince was in pain as the result of his fit of 
laughter, Eowyn shouted: "Both of you stop this banter right now! 
Theodred, you are injuring yourself further. You must lie still. 
Eomer, please tell me what you found upon the battlefield."

Eomer sighed. "We managed to capture one of the Uruks who was wearing 
a helm with the symbol of the white hand upon it. Orcs are such stupid 
creatures. We easily tricked him into telling us whom he served. It's 
what we feared. Saruman has amassed an army, intent upon gaining 
control of the Mark. This Captain Faramir's spies already had 
reported. What we did not know is that Saruman has a spy in Edoras. 
The Uruk did not know his name, but if Wormtongue received information 
that Theodred and I had been killed upon the battlefield, this spy 
cannot have very reliable sources."

"But we do now know that the spy feeds information to Wormtongue, 
which is very interesting," interjected Theodred. "He should not have 
tipped his hand before gaining confirmation of our deaths."

Eowyn closed her eyes, wondering if she should tell them about 
Erkenbrand's suspicions about Grima. "Theodred," she began, but Eomer 
already had launched into another tirade. "We were fortunate the 
entire Rohirrim force was not annihilated! Although Gondor was true to 
its word and sent reinforcements, its soldiers were not permitted to 
pass through the Gap of Rohan. Wormtongue saw to that by convincing 
Theoden King that once Gondor's army was permitted to cross the Mark's 
border, there would no getting rid of the Gondorian soldiers. The 
Prince of Dol Amroth, who rode at the head of the army, was forced to 
remain on Gondor's soil. Theodred, you are the King's son. Can you not 
do something?"

Theodred shook his head but said nothing, for he had become abnormally 
pale and was drenched in sweat. Eowyn placed a wet rag across his brow 
and sighed. "No one with any sense would believe that the Steward has 
designs to conquer Rohan," she said.

Eomer gave her a warning look. "Careful, Sister. You just insulted the 
King of the Mark." Eowyn started to apologize to the Prince, but he 
had fallen asleep. Not wanting to disturb him, she motioned for her 
brother to leave; she would remain by her cousin's side the entire 
night.

* * * * * * * * *  

Eomer went to the great hall where Theoden King held court. It was 
filled with shadows and half-lights; his footsteps rang loudly upon 
the stones that paved the floor, for the hall was eerily silent. As he 
passed the fire burning in the long hearth in the midst of the hall, 
he noticed that those gathered about shot him peculiar looks; some 
made a sign against evil. No one spoke as he proceeded to the dais, 
where the King sat in his large gilded chair, his head bowed.  The 
Third Marshal of the Mark hesitantly cleared his throat and the old 
King looked up.

Theoden's eyes were shedding tears and his flesh was the color of 
death. As he gazed upon his nephew, his expression changed from one of 
despair to one that closely resembled fear. "Are you a ghost?" Theoden 
asked with a voice that trembled. Eomer went down upon one knee before 
his King.

"Nay, my liege, I am no spirit. Nor is your son, Theodred, who even 
now lies within these walls. I know not what Wormtongue may have told 
you, but you see before you the truth. We fought against Saruman's 
forces and persevered, if only for a short time."

Wormtongue came wraithlike from the shadows at the far end of the 
hall. His eyes were flames of anger. "He lies, my lord! Saruman is our 
ally, not our enemy! Do not listen to his words of deceit."

Eomer stood up rapidly and began to draw his sword. Guards loyal to 
Wormtongue appeared swiftly at his side, their weapons already drawn. 
Eomer froze and turned to face Theoden. "Will you allow this commoner 
to spill royal blood in your presence? I have been loyal to you all my 
life and loved you as a father since the day Eowyn and I came to live 
in Edoras… under your protection and guardianship. Do you now rescind 
the promise you made to my father upon his deathbed?"

Theoden King lifted ancient eyes and looked solemnly upon the face of 
his kin. "Leave me, nephew. I am tired and weary of duties which tie 
me to this throne. See to my son and tell him that I will come to him 
anon." The guards parted reluctantly to let Eomer pass. He felt 
heartsick at how far his uncle had fallen. Slowly the Third Marshal 
made his way out of the great hall and back to where Theodred lay 
wounded. 

 
------



Chapter Three
Love In Bloom


Boromir has returned to Lorien. He and Eledwhen are trying to deal 
with the loss of their unborn child. The Fellowship stayed in Lorien 
about a month, if I figure out Tolkien's timetable correctly. Our two 
lovebirds make the most of it.

This chapter only is rated "R" for the bedroom scene. This is written 
for Undomiel, who wants SEX.

 

Love In Bloom

Eledwhen awoke at the first touch of sunlight streaming through the 
slight separation between curtain and tree. She was lying on her left 
side, facing the open side of the flet abutting the great tree that 
wound its way gracefully through the entire home of the Lord and Lady 
of the Golden Wood. She rolled onto her back and felt something solid 
beside her. Frowning, the Princess turned her head and saw Boromir; 
she had nearly forgotten the man's arrival the previous evening.

"Are you a dream?" she asked softly, her face close to his.

"Go away, I'm sleeping," he muttered thickly, refusing to open his 
eyes. "Do you know how long it has been since I slept in a bed? Leave 
me be, girl."

Eledwhen twined a lock of her golden tresses about one finger and 
began stroking Boromir's unshaven cheek. He reached up as though to 
swat away her hand, but instead grasped it and pulled her tightly 
against his naked body. "Go back to sleep," he growled. "I am not 
ready to get up. I haven't had a decent night's sleep since we left 
Imladris."

Eledwhen laughed and snuggled closely against him. "You may say you 
are not ready to rise, but at least a part of you is already up, my 
lord husband." Boromir opened one eye and feigned indignation.

"What happened to the reticent young maid I brought to Lorien only a 
few months ago? I believe this wanton woman I see before me has 
replaced her." Eledwhen moved a hand slowly down his chest, tracing 
each battle scar as she did so.

"She is still young, though no longer reticent or a maid. I am the 
woman you made me. Are you not pleased with your handiwork?" Her smile 
was coy.

"Yes," he growled, placing his arms about her and kissing her full 
lips. Eledwhen felt familiar stirrings in her most intimate place and 
wanted to continue their foreplay to its natural conclusion; however, 
she knew they were not supposed to because of the miscarriage.

"Boromir, please wait," she murmured. Boromir, however, ignored 
Eledwhen's words and instead slid his tongue into her mouth while 
pushing her onto her back. Eledwhen could feel his need and did not 
wish to deny him, but the Lady Galadriel had been firm about what she 
and Boromir could and could not do in the bedroom. Gently she pushed 
against his shoulders. "Boromir, we must stop. It is too soon for me … 
the loss of the baby."

Boromir felt as though a bucket of ice-cold water had been poured over 
his head. He moved from atop Eledwhen and flopped onto his back. His 
breathing was hard and fast, and he lay staring upward for several 
moments. "There are other ways of expressing our love," he finally 
said. "I did not teach you these things because we had so short a time 
together before I left for Imladris. And, too, you were not … 
indisposed."

Eledwhen propped herself up upon an elbow and looked at him 
innocently. "You mean, there is another way that I can please you?"

Boromir laughed and reached to push back a lock of hair that had 
fallen across her face. "Oh, yes, there are many ways in which we can 
share pleasure and not risk injuring you. Would you like me to show 
you?" Eledwhen laughed throatily and began caressing her husband's 
face. Boromir placed his large hand over her smaller and much more 
delicate hand; gently, but firmly, he began guiding it down the length 
of his body, watching her face closely for signs of shock or fear. As 
their hands reached the area directly above his groin, Eledwhen's eyes 
became wide but she did not protest. Boromir slid an arm about her 
neck, pulled her to him for a deep and probing kiss, and continued her 
exploration of his body.

When Eledwhen had first made love to the man of Gondor, she had been 
surprised at how firm his war-hardened, muscular body was. She eagerly 
had explored every part of it except one, the part she now found her 
hand wrapped about. "What do I do now?" she asked quietly. Boromir 
laughed and began to show her how to stroke the only life-giving part 
of his being. The rest of him was used to kill and maim. This was one 
reason he enjoyed the time he spent making love to a woman; it felt so 
good to use his body for pleasure instead of pain. As Eledwhen 
mastered the rhythm that would bring him to completion, Boromir lay 
back and closed his eyes. He was so lost in the incredible sensation 
that at first he did not notice the gentle flick of a tongue about his 
manhood. Then, realizing what his wife was doing, he pushed himself up 
upon both elbows and watched her incredulously.

"Where on earth did you get the idea to do that?" he groaned.

Eledwhen raised her head, a look of concern on her face. "Does this 
not please you, husband? Is this wrong?"

Boromir shook his head. "Yes, I mean, no. I mean yes, it pleases me 
and no, it is not wrong. I just wonder how you know how to do … THAT!"

Eledwhen smiled mischievously. "I saw two Elves making love in the 
forest. This seemed to be something that was extremely pleasurable for 
the male. Is it not pleasurable?"

"Oh, Valar, yes! Please, continue." Eledwhen smiled and resumed her 
lessons.

* * * * * * * * *

It was two days before the Steward's heir and his wife joined the 
Fellowship upon the lawn of the fountain. Aragorn was sitting beneath 
a large mallorn, listening to a lament for the fallen Gandalf. His 
eyes were closed. As Boromir and Eledwhen approached, Aragorn opened 
his eyes and beheld the Princess of Rohan for the first time. At first 
he thought he was seeing Galadriel, for Eledwhen glittered like gold 
in the sunlight, far more beautiful than any mortal could ever be. As 
his eyes adjusted to the bright light behind her, Aragorn realized he 
was looking upon the Lady's granddaughter … and Boromir's wife. 
Swiftly he rose to his feet and bowed deeply.

"My lady, I am honored to finally meet you. I hope you are well."

Eledwhen looked questioningly up at her husband. "Eledwhen, allow me 
to introduce you to Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and Isildur's long-lost 
heir." The man's tone of voice was hard to decipher, yet she discerned 
that he was none too happy about an heir to the throne of Gondor 
showing up in his lifetime. Still, she knew Boromir held a grudging 
admiration for the man and she smiled warmly at him.

"I am well enough. I thank you for your concern. My husband has told 
me of the loss of your dear friend, Mithrandir. Is the song I hear now 
about that loss? It is such a mournful tune." Aragorn's smile melted 
and Eledwhen felt an intense stab of pain. She knew that its source 
was the Ranger standing before her. "I am sorry. I did not mean to 
upset you. The two of you must have been very dear friends. I am very 
sorry for your loss. It seems we share a common bond."

Aragorn's head snapped upward, and he looked uncomfortable. "My 
apologies. I did not mean to burden you with my sorrow. I know you 
have suffered a grievous loss yourself. Please, do not concern 
yourself on my account."

Boromir stood by Eledwhen's side and watched the exchange between his 
wife and the man who was destined to rule Gondor in his place. He did 
not like the idea of their becoming too friendly. Wanting to end the 
conversation, Boromir placed his arm firmly beneath Eledwhen's elbow, 
muttered something to Aragorn about his wife needing to meet other 
members of the Fellowship, and steered her toward the hobbits. The 
Ranger looked after him, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I do believe the Steward's son is jealous of you." Legolas was 
standing beside the Ranger, an amused expression on his fair Elven 
face.

"Say, rather, that he is extremely possessive of his new wife. In his 
place, I would be much the same." Aragorn thumped the Prince of 
Mirkwood soundly upon the back before moving away to speak with Gimli. 
He wanted to know how the dwarf was holding up. All the members of the 
Fellowship, except Boromir, were grieving for Gandalf. Aragorn was not 
surprised that the man of Gondor had shed no tears for the Istar. He 
was, after all, Denethor's son. The Steward held no love for wizards 
and had seemingly passed his prejudices on to his heir.

Aragorn watched in amusement as Boromir gravely introduced the 
diminutive hobbits to the Princess. Each seemed bowled over by her 
beauty and charm. She may be more of a match for him than he knows, 
Aragorn thought. Chuckling to himself, he moved to Gimli's side.

"Now how do you suppose that big ox managed to win over the fair 
Rohirrim Princess?" Gimli was staring at the couple, thoughtfully 
stroking his beard. "I daresay that, except for your Evenstar and the 
Lady Galadriel, she is the most beautiful female in Middle-earth."

Aragorn smiled at the dwarf, obviously amused by his comments. "Yes, 
she is beautiful. She takes after her mother, the Lady Elanor, who was 
Queen of Rohan and daughter of the Lord and Lady of Dwimordene." The 
Ranger laughed at Gimli's surprised reaction, then sobered as his gaze 
returned to Eledwhen. "I do not like that he intends to have her 
accompany the Fellowship when it leaves Lorien."

Gimli made a noise akin to a snort and tore his gaze from the 
Princess. He stared incredulously up at the tall Ranger. "Surely, you 
jest! Both Saruman and the Dark Lord hunt us. It is too dangerous a 
road for the hobbits, much less for a girl of her tender years. 
Whatever could he be thinking?"

Aragorn shook his head sadly. "That he wants her by his side when he 
returns to Minas Tirith. I believe he has given up hope that Sauron 
can be defeated and fears that his doom is at hand. I cannot blame him 
for wanting to spend as much time as he can with his wife." Again the 
dwarf made a noise resembling a snort.

"She would be safer in the Golden Wood than in the White City. And 
certainly safer here than on the road where all the orcs of Mordor and 
Isengard seek us. Perhaps I should give him a piece of my mind."

Aragorn smiled at Gimli fondly. "I do not think he wants a piece of 
your mind. Yet you are correct about the danger to her person. While 
in Rivendell, Boromir was very attentive to my betrothed; perhaps I 
shall return the favor."

* * * * * * * * *

Eledwhen was walking in the woods surrounding Caras Galadon. She was 
alone because Boromir had been summoned to a meeting with her 
grandparents. Although he did not want to go, she managed to convince 
him that he should do so to keep peace within the family. She laughed, 
remembering the look on his face when the reality of his kinship to 
the Elves had sunk in.

"It is good to hear you laugh, your highness." Eledwhen stiffened and 
turned about sharply to face the owner of the voice. She was surprised 
to see Aragorn.

"Are you following me, heir of Isildur?" The man smiled good-naturedly 
and pushed away from the mallorn that his back had been resting upon.

"You are perceptive," he replied lightly. "Haldir told me that you 
have many unusual qualities, including the gift of foresight."

Eledwhen looked searchingly into his gray eyes. "Do you doubt his 
words? Or do you follow me because you wish to know your future? 
Boromir has said that you will be King of Gondor. He is very bitter. I 
am certain you can understand why."

Aragorn nodded. "This I know. I have been unable to make him see how 
important he will be to me once…"

"You usurp his father's reign? Do you truly believe the Steward of 
Gondor will welcome you to his city with open arms?"

"More likely he will greet me with a knife in the back," he muttered.

"You know Denethor very well, then." Something in the girl's tone 
caused Aragorn to wonder if something had happened in Minas Tirith 
between Denethor and his son's betrothed.

"You do not seem very fond of him," he began cautiously.

"My, how perceptive you are," she responded bitterly.

"I do not wish to pry, but I know the Lord Denethor very well. If you 
need someone to confide in, you will find me an excellent listener." 
Eledwhen studied the man thoughtfully. He maintained an unassuming 
attitude, but she knew this outward appearance was nothing more than a 
ruse to hide his true nature. In fact, he seemed to be very adept at 
hiding who, and what, he really was.

"So, future King of Gondor, you would counsel me to disclose all my 
dark secrets to you. To air the Steward's dirty laundry, so to speak."

Aragorn lowered his head and seemed to study the ground. "Does the 
Steward have dirty laundry that needs airing?" he asked quietly.

"Either you have spoken with Haldir, or my grandmother has been 
telling tales out of turn. Either you know what happened in Minas 
Tirith, and you play with me, or you seek to gain some knowledge that 
will be helpful to you when the time comes to wrestle control of 
Gondor from the ruling Steward. I perceive that you are much more of a 
politician than Boromir believes. Plus I see that you are no man's 
fool. I believe you shall best Denethor, when the time comes. I only 
hope that I am there to witness his downfall."

Aragorn saw that there were tears in her eyes. "Why do you hate 
Boromir's father so much? Haldir is very loyal to you and would say 
naught. I swear that I have no knowledge of what happened to make you 
leave the White City. I know only that Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn 
are determined that you never return there. I once served your 
grandfather. I like to think he trusted me with his life. Will the 
daughter of his son trust Thorongil as well?"

Eledwhen looked startled. "You cannot possibly be Thorongil. He would 
be a very old man, if he lived at all. You look as though you have 
seen no more than 40 summers, which would make you the same age as my 
husband. You DO play games with me." As the Princess turned to leave, 
Aragorn moved rapidly to her side and caught her arm.

"Boromir and I had much this same conversation in Rivendell. I told 
him then, and I will tell you now, that I am nearly 87 years old. You 
have Elven blood in your veins. Can you not feel in me a kindred 
spirit? Though I be mortal, I am betrothed to Arwen Undomiel. 
Galadriel is her grandmother, as well as yours. Will you open your 
heart to me and tell me why you hate Gondor's Steward?"

A light like fire blazed in Eledwhen's eyes, and her hands clenched so 
tightly that her nails drew blood. Her entire body began to shake. 
When she spoke, her answer was more a cry than words. "He is a 
monster! In the light of day he pretends to be noble and a great 
leader. But in the dark, behind bolted doors, he dishonors innocent 
maids. I would see you slay him before I would see you make him your 
Steward." 

Aragorn moved his arm to encircle Eledwhen's waist as she began to 
crumble to the ground. The Princess was sobbing like a lost child. 
Suddenly angry because of the restraining arm, she struggled to pull 
away. "Let me go! I do not need your help. Leave me alone!" Aragorn 
ignored her protests, concerned that she may fall and injure herself. 
As he gently tried to ease her onto the ground, Boromir appeared with 
his sword in hand. He looked extremely dangerous.

"Remove your hands from my wife or I shall slay you like the dog that 
you are!" Aragorn turned, startled, by the fierce anger in the man's 
voice. Then, realizing how the scene must appear to Boromir, he 
immediately released Eledwhen and backed away, his hands out to the 
side. Eledwhen sank slowly to the ground, covered her face with her 
hands and continued to weep. Aragorn cleared his throat nervously, 
keeping his eyes upon the other man's hands.

"My intent was not to harm your lady, but to help her. As you can see, 
she is not well." Boromir motioned with his sword for Aragorn to step 
away from his wife. Keeping one eye on the Ranger, he moved to her 
side.

"Did he harm you?" Boromir asked, his voice gruff with emotion. He was 
standing protectively between Eledwhen and the other man, poised for 
attack should she answer in the affirmative. Aragorn's hand strayed to 
his weapon; he held his breath and waited for the girl to speak.

As the moments dragged on, and the Princess still continued to weep 
uncontrollably, Boromir became highly agitated. He was uncertain about 
what had occurred, felt as though he should do something, but was 
unsure as to what that something should be. The tension finally was 
broken by the timely arrival of the Lady Galadriel.

The Elven Queen looked closely at Boromir, who stood indecisively 
beside her granddaughter, and then at Aragorn, who stood defensively a 
few feet away, one hand upon his sword hilt. She let out a loud sigh. 
"I want you both to leave, separately, before this situation gets out 
of hand. Please remember, Lord Boromir, that you are a guest in my 
kingdom and, as such, are required to conduct yourself in a reasonable 
manner. Violence will not be tolerated within my realm!"

Boromir looked both angry and helpless at the same time. "I must see 
to my wife," he began, but Galadriel cut him off with sharp words.

"I shall take care of my granddaughter. You may go anyplace you like 
as long as you do not start a fight with the Lord Aragorn, who is 
destined to marry into the family. I demand you remember that and act 
accordingly." She then turned her fierce gaze upon the Ranger. "I 
think, perhaps, you should rejoin your friends."

Aragorn looked uncomfortable beneath her steely gaze yet felt the need 
to defend his actions. "I was trying to help. She swooned and I only 
wished to keep her from falling." His gaze shifted to Boromir, who was 
staring at him through narrowed eyes.

"Both of you leave now! I shall not ask politely again." Galadriel 
glared warningly at both men, who bowed respectfully and left in 
opposite directions. The Elf shook her head and spoke aloud. "The 
world is doomed if they cannot learn to get along." Sighing, Galadriel 
turned her attentions to her granddaughter.


-----



Chapter Four
The Plot Thickens




The Power of Love

By Adara

 

It has been a long time since I revisited Minas Tirith and played with 
its problems. This chapter is for readers who love Faramir and Prince 
Imrahil. Isabeau, are you out there? The second part of the chapter 
returns the reader to Lórien. Boromir finally learns the truth about 
the rape of his wife.

 

The Plot Thickens

Faramir was standing at the study window watching his uncle stride 
across the Citadel courtyard. The Acting Steward deduced from the 
man's walk that he was extremely angry. Slowly he turned and moved to 
the large desk, where a dispatch lay unrolled, its edges well worn 
from much handling. Sighing, Faramir sank into the oversized chair and 
ran his hands through his thick hair. What a waste of time and 
resources, he thought. And what in the name of the Valar is going on 
in Rohan? He lowered his face into his hands, fingers slightly parted, 
and read for the twentieth time the dispatch from the Prince of Dol 
Amroth.

"…we were met by men bearing the King of Rohan's standard, though they 
looked to be no more than common horse thieves. Still, the order they 
handed me bore the King's seal and I deemed that seal to be genuine. 
However, the scrawl of the text was definitely not that of Théoden, 
although his signature at the bottom of the page could not be 
disputed. I will spare you the details and get straight to the heart 
of the matter. We were informed that under no circumstances were 
soldiers of Gondor to enter the realm of the Rohirrim, and that any 
man who dared to disobey would be summarily executed…"

The opening of the study door and the subsequent entrance of Prince 
Imrahil interrupted Faramir's reading. He closed his eyes, squared his 
shoulders and steeled himself for more bad news.

"I see you have read my dispatch." Imrahil obviously was not in the 
mood for small talk. He stood stiffly before Denethor's desk, slapping 
a gauntlet against his right thigh. Faramir suppressed a deep sigh and 
looked up at his uncle.

"Aye, I have read it… many times. I do not understand why Prince 
Théodred asked for our help, knowing that his father would refuse to 
allow our troops onto Rohirrim soil. Please, Uncle, help yourself to 
some claret and then be seated. I would call for the boy to serve you, 
but I sent him on an errand to the second circle half an hour ago." He 
watched Imrahil closely as the man strode to a side table where a 
decanter and glasses had been set out. Faramir smiled at the rather 
generous portion of stout wine that was splashed into the glass. 
Imrahil turned and caught his nephew's look.

"It was a long and thirsty ride," he said dryly.

Faramir's smile widened. "I made no comment." The Prince gave a soft 
snort and took a long drink, nearly draining the glass. After 
refilling it, he crossed to the chair in front of the desk and sat 
down. Imrahil stretched his stiff legs out in front of him and swirled 
the dark red liquid around the sides of the glass. Long minutes passed 
ere he spoke.

"I perceive the hand of Grima Wormtongue behind this debacle. Though 
the King signed the order and set his seal to it, he was not the 
author. Tell me, Faramir, you met with Prince Théodred in Ithilien. 
Why would the King of Rohan listen to the ranting of a commoner? What 
power does this man possess that he is able to turn the King against 
his own flesh and blood? If it is true that Saruman is the master and 
Wormtongue the servant, I fear for Rohan if Théodred and his cousin, 
Éomer, do not act soon to remove this threat. It is like a cancer 
eating at the very heart of the kingdom."

Faramir sighed aloud and began to roll a writing quill across the by 
now wrinkled piece of parchment containing the words that had spurred 
his uncle into this quiet rage. "What would you have me do, Uncle? I 
cannot send an assassin to rid the King of his chief counselor. It 
would be an open act of war."

Imrahil leaned forward in his chair. "Believe me, Nephew. No one will 
press for war once this cancer has been cut out." Faramir lifted his 
head to meet his uncle's sea-gray eyes.

"And what if you are wrong?" he asked softly.

"Then we have declared war upon the horse-lords and only the Valar 
would be able to help us, for we cannot fight both Mordor and Rohan. 
Sauron knows this as well as does Saruman. Sauron failed to destroy 
Minas Tirith from within and may now hope to weaken us by forcing us 
to fight on two fronts. As much as I hate to admit it, such a plan 
would be successful. I shudder to think what will happen if Saruman 
and the Dark Lord are working together toward our destruction. Gondor 
cannot prevail without the aid of Rohan; therefore, we must send 
someone to speak secretly with Théodred. Again."

Faramir realized that Imrahil's intense gaze was meant to relay a 
meaning. "Do not look at me, Uncle. The Prince almost ran me through 
in this very study. Why should he listen to anything I have to say?" 
Imrahil laughed mirthlessly.

"Because he knows you to be an honest man. The two of you got along 
famously in Ithilien. He desperately wants our help. His country is on 
the brink of internal strife, even as was ours."

"Can he not have Théoden declared unfit to rule and become Acting King 
until Wormtongue can be dealt with? Would the people not follow him?"

Imrahil shook his head and took another long drink from his glass. 
"Nay. He would not live to see another sunrise. There are men in 
Edoras whose loyalty has been paid for by Wormtongue. You may be 
Théodred's only hope."

Faramir shoved his chair away from the desk and stood up. "I cannot 
leave Minas Tirith without a Steward, not for any length of time. And 
should I leave again, Father would assume the mantle of the 
Stewardship. Do you believe he is ready for such a trial?"

Prince Imrahil stared thoughtfully into his empty glass. His long, 
graceful fingers traced the pattern of the white tree etched upon one 
side. "I believe that Denethor can be trusted at Gondor's helm, but 
ONLY if he has at least one son by his side. His mental state is not 
yet strong enough to allow him to rule alone. I fear that without his 
sons as an anchor, Denethor once more will fall under the influence of 
the Dark Lord."

Faramir nodded, walked to the window and gazed upon the White City. "I 
cannot risk losing Gondor by leaving it rudderless." After a moment's 
silence, he suddenly began laughing. "Father was none too happy that 
you were able to convince the Council that we three should share 
power, with you and I having the majority vote in all matters."

Imrahil gave his nephew a sideways look. "I do not see how you can 
find humor in the fact that Denethor accused me of having Mithrandir 
put a spell upon you. He nearly called me out!"

Faramir shrugged. "He never would have followed through. It would not 
have been a wise political move and Father does nothing without first 
considering the political ramifications. The fact that he lost control 
of himself in public tells me that he has not shaken off the effects 
of the palantír."

Imrahil nodded thoughtfully. "Then we are in agreement that you will 
remain here. Who, then, shall we send to speak with the Prince of the 
Mark?"

Faramir gave his uncle a wicked grin. "I rather hoped that the Prince 
of Dol Amroth would assume this mission. You saved Prince Théodred 
when he was imprisoned and beaten. Whom would he trust more?"

Imrahil stood up rapidly, placed the glass upon the desk and began 
shaking his head. "Oh, no, boy! I am needed here. I cannot go 
gallivanting about Rohan playing at being a spy. If you can think of 
no one more suitable, the Rohirrim will have to sort out their own 
problems. Even as we have."

Faramir's mood immediately became grim. He nodded gravely and turned 
once more to gaze out the window. "I wonder where Boromir is? Do you 
suppose he and Eledwhen reached Imladris safely? Do you think they are 
married?" Imrahil moved to stand beside his nephew. Gently he placed a 
hand upon the younger man's shoulder.

"I think it is the answer to the last question that is uppermost on 
your mind. Do you still love the Princess of Rohan?" Faramir looked at 
his uncle guiltily.

"I did not realize it was that obvious. I told Théodred, but no one 
else. I keep forgetting the rumors of Elves in your woodpile. And the 
answer to your question is, yes, I fell in love with Eledwhen, but she 
is pledged to my brother and even now may be his wife. I wonder, 
though, if she has told Boromir the identity of the man who attacked 
her. I am uncertain of what my brother's reaction will be to such a 
revelation. I find it difficult to live and work with the man who 
raped my future sister-in-law. It would be impossible if she were my 
wife."

* * * * * * * * *

Eledwhen cried until she had no more tears left. She and the Lady 
Galadriel were sitting upon the ground in the woods surrounding Caras 
Galadon. Boromir and Aragorn had gone their separate ways, leaving the 
Elven Queen to calm her granddaughter. "What is wrong, child? What did 
those two Men say to upset you so?"

The Princess used the back of her hand to wipe some of the tears from 
her face and hiccuped once or twice before answering. "The Lord 
Aragorn asked me why I hate Gondor's Steward. When I answered, that 
terrible night became so vivid that I started crying. Then I thought 
about losing Boromir's son and I started crying even harder. Then 
Boromir showed up and they started arguing. Aragorn was only trying to 
help me, truly. But Boromir thought I was in danger."

Galadriel sighed. "I am thankful he is protective of you, but he goes 
too far. I cannot have him drawing his sword every time someone in my 
kingdom speaks with you. Honestly, I would have no subjects left!" 
Eledwhen looked wide-eyed at her grandmother, realized that she was 
joking, and burst into a fit of girlish laughter. "That is much 
better. I prefer to hear you laughing than weeping. Come, the hour 
grows late and your grandfather has prepared a feast in the 
Fellowship's honor. They have had a difficult journey. A little 
merriment may not lift the sorrow from their hearts, but it may help 
ease their pain."

Eledwhen sniffled and smiled up at the Lady Galadriel. "Can I wear one 
of those beautiful gowns Argosy made me?"

The Elf lady laughed, relived to see her granddaughter thinking about 
such relatively unimportant things as dresses, just like any teen-age 
girl. "Of course you may, my darling. I think the blue gown with the 
wide sleeves and the long train would be perfect. Let us find your 
maid and see what we can do about your hair. Goodness, it is filled 
with leaves and twigs! This will not do at all." As the two returned 
to the city, melodic laughter filled the winter woods and it seemed 
the sun shone brighter than ever.

* * * * * * * * *

Argosy was putting the finishing touches on Eledwhen's hair when 
Boromir entered the room. His face was clean-shaven and sported a rosy 
glow from the hot water in which he had bathed. "I have never seen you 
look more beautiful," he exclaimed.

Eledwhen jumped up and ran to her husband. She gave him a quick hug, 
released him and then performed a graceful pirouette to show off her 
new gown. "Isn't it wonderful? Argosy made it for me. She is so 
clever. See how the fabric changes colors as I move! Have you ever 
seen anything so… magical!"

Boromir laughed heartily. He was glad to see the Princess in such gay 
spirits. "I see you are looking forward to the feast tonight." 
Eledwhen was positively breathless with enthusiasm. She nodded and 
then returned to sit before the mirror so that Argosy could finish her 
hair. Boromir pulled a chair near the dressing table and watched her. 
Having finally finished fussing over Eledwhen's hair, Argosy declared 
the Princess "the most beautiful half-elf maiden in Middle-earth," 
then left the two alone. Boromir continued to stare at his wife.

"Is something wrong? You look so solemn. Surely you are not still 
angry with me because I spoke to the Lord Aragorn earlier."

"I never was angry with you, dear heart. You may, of course, speak 
with whomever you please. However, the man had no right to put his 
hands on you." Eledwhen stood and moved to kneel in front of her 
husband. She took hold of one of his large hands and held his gray 
eyes with her blue ones.

"He did not try to harm me. I probably would have hurt myself if the 
Lord Aragorn had not supported me. You cannot be jealous of every man 
who has contact with me. Or any Elf, for that matter." Boromir looked 
uncomfortable. "I know that you are more than a wee bit jealous of 
Haldir, but you have no reason to be. He is my dear friend and nothing 
more. It is you I love and your bed that I share. There will never be 
another for me. Do you believe this?"

The man of Gondor smiled affectionately at the young woman and touched 
her golden hair with one finger. "I will never understand what I did 
to deserve such a prize as you. I am the luckiest man in 
Middle-earth."

* * * * * * * * *

The lawn about the fountain glittered from the light of a thousand 
silver lanterns. Many of them had been placed creatively in the huge 
mallorns, giving the appearance of stars literally within reach. The 
feast was well under way when Eledwhen and Boromir made their 
appearance. Both were dressed in the finest raiment Lothlórien had to 
offer. Boromir looked very kingly and the Princess, whose hand rested 
lightly upon her husband's arm, looked like a Queen.

Legolas was talking to Haldir when the couple joined the merrymakers. 
His eyes fastened upon Eledwhen and followed her every move. "You look 
like a puppy longing for a bone," the Lórien Elf said teasingly. 
Legolas' eyes narrowed and he turned his head slowly until his hard 
stare fell upon Haldir.

"You know not of what you speak, for I was but admiring the lady's 
charms. Were she completely Elven, I would venture to say that her 
beauty would surpass that of your Galadriel." Now it was Haldir's turn 
to glare.

"There is none in Middle-earth to rival the Lady of the Golden Wood… 
not even her granddaughter. Though, perhaps, I am a bit prejudiced." 
Haldir grinned good-naturedly and turned his gaze onto the figures 
standing a few feet away. "Boromir seems less self-conscious tonight 
than usual."

Legolas laughed musically, turning slowly as he sensed the approach of 
Aragorn. "I heard you and the Steward's son almost came to blows this 
afternoon. Were you trying to entice his wife to run away with a 
Ranger of the North? Or perhaps you thought she would prefer to be 
married to the King of Gondor instead of its Steward's eldest son?"

Aragorn smiled, knowing well that his friend was jesting. "Alas that 
the fair lady only has eyes for our man of Gondor. I suppose I must 
content myself with the evening star, for Boromir has clearly captured 
the sun." The three laughed heartily before turning their attentions 
to more serious considerations, such as the long and dangerous route 
to Mordor that the Fellowship would take after leaving Lothlórien.

Boromir was only half listening to the conversation between Eledwhen 
and the Lady Galadriel. He was more interested in watching Aragorn and 
Haldir, who were speaking with Legolas. His musings about the topic of 
their conversation were broken when his wife gently shook his shoulder 
and inquired whether or not he was ailing. Boromir turned his head in 
time to catch Galadriel's amused grin. Boromir stiffened, drew himself 
up to his full height and excused himself. He swaggered slowly to 
where Aragorn and the two Elves remained deep in conversation. As he 
drew near the group, he heard Aragorn saying, "We may be hampered by 
the presence of a woman. I only hope we are not forced to choose 
between her safety and the safety of the ring-bearer."

The last word had barely passed his lips when Aragorn felt the 
presence of the other man. Forcing his features into an unreadable 
mask, the Ranger turned and took a hard blow to the jaw as he did so. 
Haldir and Legolas immediately grabbed hold of Boromir's arms in a 
futile effort to restrain him. Unfortunately, all the raging emotions 
the man had been trying to bury came boiling to the surface. He 
wrenched away from the two Elves and threw himself bodily upon his 
rival. Aragorn, who had just regained his feet and was slightly off 
balance, was hurled against a large mallorn. He grunted as the impact 
of being slammed against the tree knocked the breath out of him.

Frodo was standing about six feet away when he caught sight of the 
attack out of the corner of one eye. Terrified at the unexpected 
assault, he could only shriek, "Strider!" before the much taller Elves 
pushed past him, hurrying to break the two men apart before they 
killed one another. Eledwhen began to move toward the two combatants, 
but her grandmother placed a restraining hand upon her arm and almost 
imperceptibly shook her head. The girl heard words in her head, 
commanding her not to interfere. Eledwhen wordlessly begged her 
grandfather to stop the fight, but Celeborn was watching the two men 
with an enigmatic smile upon his face. She could swear he actually was 
enjoying the sight of one man pummeling another, which made her 
extremely angry. Furious, she jerked her arm from Galadriel's grip and 
stalked to where Boromir lay on his back after having taken a strong 
blow to the left side of his head.

"Stop this, stop this now!" she shouted, hands planted firmly upon her 
hips.

Boromir's response was to growl: "Stay out of this, girl. It is none 
of your affair." Eledwhen could see that her husband definitely "had 
his blood up," as Théodred was fond of saying, and she knew he would 
never listen to a plea for reason. Instead, she shoved him backward 
onto the ground as he tried to rise. Aragorn, who was still slightly 
out of breath from the fight, walked over and extended a hand to help 
Denethor's son regain his feet. Boromir, however, dismissed the offer 
of peace and instead pulled his knife from its sheath and made a 
slashing motion toward Aragorn's extended arm. Only the Ranger's 
incredible reflexes, honed during decades in the wilderness, kept him 
from being cut. As Boromir sprang upward from the ground, Eledwhen 
rushed forward to stand between the two and caught the tip of the 
blade in her upper arm. She was too shocked to scream, but she heard 
loud gasps from the onlookers.

Now it was Haldir's turn to be consumed by a mind-numbing rage. He 
moved more swiftly than the human eye could track, and Boromir was 
astonished to feel the prick of a blade at his throat. "You are as mad 
and as craven as your father," he spat. "The two of you are as 
indistinguishable as two sides of the same coin. If Eledwhen had not 
agreed to wed you, I am certain you would have raped her as well." 
Boromir, who had been mentally organizing a retaliatory attack against 
the Elf, froze as the words slowly sank in.

"What did you say, Elf?" Haldir withdrew his knife from the man's 
throat and repeated the accusation before Eledwhen could stop him. 
Shocked, Boromir turned toward his wife. "What does he mean?" he asked 
through bloodless lips. Eledwhen's eyes welled with tears and she 
began backing away, but not before Boromir read the truth in her 
haunted look. Haldir heard the girl's anguished voice clearly in his 
head: You swore you would never tell anyone! I trusted you and now you 
have betrayed that trust. Horrified by his lack of self-control, 
Haldir moved toward Eledwhen, his eyes pleading for forgiveness.

"This is neither the time nor the place to discuss such a matter!" 
Celeborn roared angrily. "This feast is over. Lord Boromir, I do not 
care where you go, but if I see you again tonight I shall not be 
responsible for my actions." The Elven Lord picked Eledwhen up in his 
arms and carried her toward their home. Galadriel shot Boromir a 
withering look before turning to follow.

Now that the fight was over, the partygoers began to melt into the 
shadows, leaving the members of the Fellowship alone. Boromir heaved a 
broken sob before stumbling into the forest. "Should we go after him?" 
asked Gimli.

Aragorn's voice was infinitely sad. "No, that would not be wise. Leave 
him alone for now. I will seek him out when the time is right. Haldir, 
if you have something to say that concerns what happened to the 
Princess of Rohan during her stay in Minas Tirith, now would be the 
time to say it. There is no longer a need for silence; you already 
have broken your oath."

Haldir looked guiltily about him, his gaze scanning the remaining 
members of the Fellowship. He finally met Aragorn's eyes and motioned 
toward the fountain. "I will reveal the truth to you, but the others 
must leave." Aragorn nodded and looked pointedly at Legolas.

The Wood Elf placed a gentle hand on Pippin's shoulder. "Come, little 
ones. I am afraid that the party is over." Tears splashed down the 
young hobbit's cheeks as he watched Boromir disappear into the woods. 
I should follow him, Pippin thought. He needs a friend. He saved Merry 
and me from the cave troll in Moria. I owe him my life. I, at least, 
will not desert him now. 



-----



Chapter Five
Come What May



Boromir agonizes over the revelation that Denethor raped the Princess 
of Rohan. Dear, sweet Pippin shows up to comfort him. Eledwhen's 
vision covers what Tolkien wrote behind the scenes about Théodred and 
Saruman's plot to get him out of the way. Eledwhen FINALLY tells 
Boromir the whole truth and nothing but the truth about what happened 
in Minas Tirith. I admit that I shamelessly stole the title for this 
chapter from "Moulin Rouge."

 

Come What May

Boromir was standing beside a small pond that shimmered with the light 
of a thousand stars. He remained as still as Bilbo's stone trolls, 
staring sightlessly at his reflected image. His mind, however, was 
working furiously, going over and over the words spoken by Haldir 
earlier in the evening. The still of the night was broken only by the 
man's tormented muttering.

He lies. Such a thing cannot be possible. Though the Lord Celeborn 
hinted as much before I left for Imladris, I assumed he wanted to hurt 
me and so dismissed his words. And I would pay no heed to Haldir's 
words but that the expression on Eledwhen's face confirmed them. I 
expected to find that some enemy had gained access to the Citadel, or 
that someone within had been bribed to harm my future wife to cause 
strife between our two countries. Never did I imagine it might be a 
member of my own family! If this is true, then my father -- nay, the 
Steward of Gondor -- is mad. It is no wonder the Lord and Lady dislike 
me so. How could Eledwhen have come to love me, the son of the man who 
dishonored her, who threatened her brother's life in return for her 
silence? Should I desert the Fellowship and ride as quickly as 
possible to Minas Tirith? And what of Eledwhen? It might not be wise 
to take her home with me. Yet Faramir wrote that he and Uncle Imrahil 
have everything under control. The Valar forgive me for being so blind 
and selfish. How could I not have seen the truth?

Boromir was too deeply in thought to hear Pippin's quiet approach. The 
young hobbit stood a few feet behind the tall man, waiting to be 
noticed. When Boromir continued to be unaware of his presence, Pippin 
cleared his throat and tapped one of his large hobbit's feet upon the 
ground. Boromir's head jerked up sharply and his hand withdrew the 
dagger at his waist as he whirled about to confront a very frightened 
Halfling. Pippin stood frozen, his mouth agape, staring at the long 
dagger still stained with Eledwhen's blood. Recognizing his visitor, 
Boromir relaxed, smiled rather self-deprecatingly and began to sheathe 
the weapon. "Never sneak up on a soldier unless you are prepared for 
the consequences, Master Hobbit. Is there something amiss? You are 
very pale."

Pippin's eyes were locked upon the blade. The blood on it looked black 
in the moonlight, like orc's blood. Boromir frowned at the hobbit's 
expression, then shifted his own gaze to the weapon in his hand. 
Horrified at what he saw, the man dropped the dagger as though it 
burned him. "I am cursed! All I do goes awry! How can I help you and 
your friends when I cannot see what is so plainly beneath my nose and 
help my own wife? You should go and seek more worthy friends." Boromir 
turned as though to leave; Pippin rushed forward, grabbed the large 
man's right leg and began to cry.

"You are wrong! You are not cursed. It is your father who hurt the 
Princess, not you. No one blames you."

Boromir laughed softly and shook his head. "Ah, you have been 
listening to conversations not meant for your ears. If only what you 
say were true, little one; however, I fear I have been tried and found 
guilty. The Elves must love Eledwhen very deeply to have allowed me to 
return. In the Lord Celeborn's place, I would have given orders to 
have me shot on sight." Pippin looked extremely distressed.

"You are not going to leave us, are you? Please say you will continue 
with the Fellowship! We need you… I need you. You are not your father. 
You would never harm anything that could not defend itself. I know you 
are a good man! Please, come with me back to the city. You can sleep 
in me and Merry's room. Everything will be all right. You'll see. 
Please, Boromir."

The man of Gondor looked at the Hobbit's upturned face and read the 
distress so openly displayed upon it. The young creature's eyes were 
wide and pleading. Boromir closed his own eyes and sighed deeply 
before opening them again. Slowly he went down on one knee before 
Pippin. "You are very persuasive, young Halfling. Do you not fear me? 
You saw me fight with your friend, Strider, and cut my wife with this 
very dagger. Am I not despicable in your eyes?"

Pippin lunged forward and attempted to place his arms around the man's 
wide shoulders. Boromir's face registered surprise, then a quiet 
relief. "I will always be your friend." Pippin's voice was muffled 
against the man's chest. "There is nothing you could do to change 
that."

Boromir wrapped his arms about the small hobbit and placed his chin 
atop the curly head. A warning chimed deep within the recesses of his 
brain. The man frowned momentarily, then relaxed as the nagging 
feeling of doom melted away in the warmth of Pippin's love. They 
remained thusly for long moments before Boromir became aware of 
another presence. "Pippin," he began, but became silent as he felt the 
identity of the newcomer. "Pippin, would you leave us alone?"

The hobbit looked up at the man, a frown creasing his smooth features. 
Boromir indicated the presence of Eledwhen with a slight sideways nod 
of his head. Pippin turned and saw the girl standing motionless at the 
edge of the clearing. Quickly he drew away from the man, then bowed 
formerly. "My lady. I was just leaving." Eledwhen smiled kindly at 
Pippin, causing him to blush. He ducked his head and scurried away. 
Boromir tracked the hobbit's progress until he was out of sight. It 
took a lot of willpower for him to look at his wife, then slowly he 
rose and waited for her to speak.

"I am sorry you found out this way, husband. I meant to tell you. I 
tried many times but could not force the words from my mouth. I was 
too ashamed. He is your father. I would not blame you if you hate me, 
for I am not worthy to be your wife." Boromir had been prepared to 
hear many things, but the revelation of her feelings of shame stunned 
him.

"No, it is I who am unworthy of you. It was my duty to ensure your 
safety within Minas Tirith and instead I became drunk, behaved 
shamefully toward you at the feast of our betrothal, and allowed a 
member of my family to harm you. I do not blame you for what happened, 
for you were but a lamb among lions. It was my honor that was lost -- 
an honor I was unable to redeem during our journey. I am sworn to 
protect the innocent and have failed miserably. I would not blame you 
if you hate me and wish to return to Rohan. Our marriage is not 
binding under your law or mine and so I release you from your father's 
promise. You are free to go where you please and do as you please." 
Boromir waited with bowed head for Eledwhen to speak. When she did 
not, he looked up and saw her standing as though frozen, her eyes 
focused upon the gleaming pond. She was as pale as death.

* * * * * * * * *

Eledwhen was soaring far above the Golden Wood, her body weightless on 
a gentle breeze that bore her southward toward Edoras. Home, she 
thought. I am going home. Although it was winter she could not feel 
the icy breath of the Misty Mountains to the west, or the sting of the 
sleet that pelted her as it fell heavily to earth. She felt warm and 
incredibly happy.

As the Princess continued to ride the strong winter wind, the terrain 
flattened into the rolling grasslands of Rohan. Far in the distance, 
beyond the Gap of Rohan and no more than a mere speck on the horizon, 
she could see Edoras and the golden glow of Meduseld. Her heart began 
to beat rapidly at the thought of seeing her brother and father again.

A sudden wild gust of wind swept her westward toward Isengard. No 
longer the gentle breeze that had caressed and cheered her, this wind 
became increasingly violent the nearer it came to the wizard's 
fortress. Upon it rode fell voices that caused tendrils of fear to 
wrap about Eledwhen, numbing her senses. Gradually the sound of the 
voices sharpened into words Eledwhen could understand, and she could 
catch fragments of a conversation. The Prince shall not be as lucky 
the next time, my Uruks will see to that... battle at the Fords of the 
Isen… the Prince dead and the old King firmly under my control… When 
Théoden dies, Rohan will be ours…any prize you desire… I will take 
Éowyn.

"No! They plot to kill my brother… and Éowyn! Surely I hear Gríma's 
voice, but to whom does the other voice belong? I must know more. 
Eledwhen strained to hear the voices again, but they were completely 
drowned out by the rising wind's malevolent hiss. "Please," she cried 
aloud. "Please, I have to know. I have to warn Théodred!" The Princess 
began to believe she would go mad with frustration until a soothing 
voice spoke her name, like a gentle touch upon her mind.

"Do not be afraid, my darling one. I am with you."

Mother, is that you? Have I gone mad, or is this a terrible dream from 
which I shall awake and find those whom I love safe?

"Your brother is safe enough -- for now. But you must know that 
Wormtongue covets your cousin, Éowyn, as well as the throne and the 
power that goes with it. Long he has planned the death of your brother 
and father and, after them, Éomer will die. You must return home 
immediately. Tarry no longer in the Golden Wood. Ride out now with 
your husband, for Boromir is in mortal danger as long as he remains 
with the Fellowship." The wind began to die down and Eledwhen could no 
longer feel her mother's presence.

Mother, please, stay with me, for I cannot deal with such things 
alone. A warm gust of air touched her cheek, as soft as a mother's 
caress.

"I am with you always. Draw what strength you can from this knowledge 
and remember what I have told you. Leave now or it will be too late to 
save your brother."

Eledwhen reached out blindly, wanting desperately to touch her mother, 
but her fingers grasped only cold air. What if I fail? Rohan will fall 
and it will be my fault!

"Failure surely will bring death and despair, but I do not believe 
that such is your destiny. You are much stronger than you know, for 
the blood of your ancestors and mine runs like fire in your veins. 
Speak with Galadriel. My mother will help you, even though she will 
not wish to."

And if I do fail, what then? Eledwhen whispered.

"Come what may, I shall always be with you. Now hurry, for time is 
slipping away and your brother's life hangs but by the finest of 
threads."  

* * * * * * * * *

"Eledwhen. Eledwhen! What do you see? Wake up, girl, please." Boromir 
was definitely out of his depth. He had no idea how to deal with 
someone so completely locked in a vision. He knew how to tend the 
wounded after a battle; he even had experience dealing with men so 
shocked by the horrors of war they became totally unaware of their 
surroundings. Soldiers called these men "the walking dead." Sometimes 
they came back, and sometimes they did not. Eledwhen's vision, 
however, was very elfish and beyond even the experiences he had 
encountered during one of his brother's visions. After 36 years, 
Boromir still was uncertain when Faramir was dreaming. Never had he 
seen his younger brother standing, unaware of his surroundings, his 
eyes wide open and totally blank. Eledwhen's condition was downright 
frightening. Faramir at least had the decency to look as though he was 
asleep!

Not knowing what else to do, Boromir gripped his wife by the 
shoulders, pulled her against him and kissed her. He continued the 
kiss until he felt her respond to the embrace. At first he felt her 
body melt against his, then he felt her hands move over his arms. He 
pulled back from her and was elated to find her eyes focused.

"All you all right? What happened? Was it one of your visions?" 
Eledwhen blinked slowly, waiting for her sight to return to normal. 
She always felt disoriented and had difficulty readjusting to the real 
world after one of her visions. She smiled tentatively, then rose upon 
her toes and kissed Boromir's cheek.

"That was the most creative way anyone has used to pull me back," she 
said lightly.

"What did you see? You were so pale." Boromir raised a hand to caress 
her cheek but froze when he saw the desperate look on her face. 
"Eledwhen, tell me what is wrong."

The Princess gripped his hand tightly and relayed the part of the 
dream that concerned her father and brother. "We must leave Lórien 
now, this very night. I must warn Théodred and Father about 
Wormtongue's plans."

As Eledwhen began to leave, Boromir grabbed her and turned her around 
to face him. "How do you know this to be true? It is dangerous for us 
to travel alone and I shall not do so unless I am certain this was 
more than just a nightmare."

"Would you have me swear an oath that these things will come to pass? 
I cannot, for not all my visions are true ones. But I know in my heart 
that this one is true, and I will not risk my brother's life by 
ignoring my mother's warning."

Boromir looked at her kindly, but when he spoke his words cut through 
her like a knife. "Eledwhen, your mother is dead. She cannot speak to 
you. This vision may be the result of the fight you witnessed between 
Aragorn and me. And I cut you… Let me see the wound! I have been 
remiss in looking after your injury."

Eledwhen pushed away from him and shook her head. "It is nothing but a 
mere scratch. Everyone is making such a fuss over nothing. If you will 
not believe I must leave for Rohan immediately, I shall convince my 
grandmother to send someone to accompany me. But, truly Boromir, it is 
vital that you come with me. If you remain with the Fellowship you 
will die!"

Boromir looked stunned. He wasn't certain how he should respond to 
such a declaration. Hesitantly, he began, "Eledwhen, you don't know 
this."

"I do know this! If you accompany the Fellowship something terrible 
will happen and you will die. If I join you, mayhap I could prevent 
this fate, but then my brother would die. Please do not make me 
choose!" Boromir knew he could never convince her that the dream did 
not portend his fate.

"Let us speak with the Lord and Lady. They should be able to help you 
understand what you saw. But first, tell me exactly what happened in 
Minas Tirith. I will not take one step further until I know the entire 
truth." Eledwhen looked extremely uncomfortable and began twisting a 
lock of hair between her thumb and forefinger. Boromir had become well 
acquainted with this habit and knew it meant she was upset. This time, 
however, he would not budge on the matter. Too many others were privy 
to information he should have been the first to know. He unconsciously 
assumed his Captain's stance and gave her the look that had forced 
many a tale from reticent soldiers.

Eledwhen assessed his stern demeanor and knew she could keep him in 
the dark no longer. He had the right to know the truth, but she 
dreaded having to tell him. "It happened the night of the feast. Your 
father came to my room and said he wanted to apologize for your 
behavior. He asked me to pour him a glass of wine. I felt something 
was wrong -- something about the way he looked at me -- but he was the 
Steward of Gondor! I did not believe I could be in danger from your 
father." Although Boromir kept his emotions hidden behind his 
Captain's mask, Eledwhen could read the mounting horror in his eyes. 
She turned partially away from him and stared into the pond. 

"I cannot speak of the act itself. Neither of us could bear the 
telling of such details. I will say that he gave me a glass of wine 
drugged with a poppy elixir, and that he had his way with me while I 
was unconscious." The Princess said nothing more for several minutes. 
It was Boromir who finally broke the silence. Although his voice was 
gentler, it still carried the weight of command.

"You were not unconscious throughout the entire ordeal. This much I 
have gleaned from what Haldir has said. You must tell me everything. I 
cannot return to Minas Tirith without knowing the full truth of that 
night."

Eledwhen sighed deeply and tears began to fall from her eyes like a 
cleansing spring rain. It felt so good to finally share the burden 
with her husband. While Eledwhen told of the events of that fateful 
night, Boromir remained at attention and expressionless. Only the many 
years of rigorous training kept him from breaking down and weeping. 
The horrors of his battles paled in comparison to the horror of what 
his father had done to his future daughter-in-law. When the tale was 
told and the Princess had fallen silent, Gondor's heir threw back his 
head and uttered a cry so fierce and terrible that all creatures that 
heard it ran in fear of their lives. Eledwhen fell to her knees, 
covered her ears with her hands, and sobbed until her chest hurt and 
her lungs ached for lack of air.

Finally, Boromir spoke. "I will take you to Edoras. When I deem it 
safe to leave you, I shall travel alone to my city. What will happen 
when I see my father, I cannot say, but I will not place you in harm's 
way a second time."

Eledwhen remained on her knees, looking up at her husband hopefully. 
"Then we shall leave on the morrow?"

Boromir shook his head. "Nay, you and I shall remain with the 
Fellowship until the time our paths take different turns. It will be 
safer for you."

The Princess rose quickly and looked at her husband in disbelief. "You 
cannot continue with the Fellowship! Have I not said that such a road 
will end in your death? We must leave without them. It is the only 
way!"

They argued back and forth for more than an hour, but neither would 
give up their position. Eledwhen finally realized it was useless to 
waste time arguing the point. Her husband's mind was set and there 
would be no changing it. "All right, my love. We shall travel with the 
Fellowship. But it must be soon. Time is of the utmost importance. 
Although I acquiesce to your wishes, I believe strongly that doing so 
will result in your death."


------



Chapter Six
My Brother, My Husband



The plot is slowly moving toward February 25, the day Tolkien killed 
off Théodred, and February 26, the day of Boromir's untimely demise. I 
have not made up my mind as to whether either of our heroes will cheat 
their written fate and survive to fight another day. I promise that 
you readers will know almost as soon as I do. I used Peter Jackson's 
story line in the scene with Arwen and Aragorn. You know, the scene 
where she steals Glorfindel's horse (oh, yeah, that was off camera) 
and saves Frodo from the Nazgul. I want my story to have females who 
can kick butt and not be simply ornamental. Even though Eledwhen is a 
Mary Sue in disguise, (not really) she can still take care of herself 
when she has to. If you are puzzled as to why one moment she acts like 
a child and the next she acts like a grownup, just remember that she 
is a teen-ager.

 

My Brother, My Husband

Although Eledwhen argued relentlessly that she must return to Edoras 
immediately, the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood refused to give 
their permission for her to leave. Both cited the recent miscarriage 
and the Fellowship's need for rest and recovery. Although Boromir had 
heeded his brother's dream and sought Imladris, it was only because 
the dream also had come to him. Gondor's heir was not superstitious, 
preferring to place his faith in weapons and loyal men of war. The 
Princess of Rohan, on the other hand, placed great faith in her dreams 
and fretted constantly over the vision of her brother's death. Finally 
growing angry at being treated like a child, Eledwhen rode out in 
search of Haldir. She found the Elf on Lórien's northern border, where 
he and his two brothers were on watch for orcs.

* * * * * * * * *

Haldir heard the sound of the approaching horse well before he saw it. 
His brother, Rumil, mimicked the cry of a crow as a warning. He 
needn't have bothered, however, since Haldir already knew the identity 
of the rider. The marchwarden was smiling broadly as he swung 
gracefully down from the tree in which he had been hiding. He had been 
thinking about Eledwhen and the outrageous behavior of Boromir during 
the recent feast. And now, as though in answer to his thoughts, the 
lady herself was rapidly approaching his position. The Lórien Elf sent 
a mental greeting to the Princess moments before a huge black stallion 
trotted proudly between two mallorns. Eledwhen's smile was wide and 
her eyes alight as she hailed her friend. Haldir hurried over to the 
stallion and reached upward to help her dismount. The Princess slid 
gracefully down her mount's side, her slender waist encircled by the 
Elf's hands.

"Haldir! I was afraid I would be unable to find you. How fair you and 
your brothers?" Rumil and Orophin had joined the reunion and were 
smiling knowingly as Haldir's hands remained about Eledwhen's waist, 
though she seemed not to notice. Both Elves bowed respectfully.

"Eledwhen, what are you doing riding alone? It is dangerous to ride 
about unescorted, even in the Golden Wood. We are too near the border 
and, even here, orcs wander, although not for long." Haldir was 
clearly upset with her lapse in good judgement.

The Princess' expression became grave and she stepped away from 
Haldir. "I came to ask for your help. You are my dearest friend and 
the only one to whom I can turn."

Haldir crossed the small space that separated them in the blink of an 
eye. "What is wrong, Eledwhen? Has Boromir hurt you again? I swear I 
will use him for target practice if he does not treat you with more 
care." Because Haldir was concentrating solely on the girl, he did not 
see his brothers roll their eyes in amusement. Eledwhen turned to face 
Haldir; her eyes were filled with unshed tears.

"I had a vision in which my mother told me that Boromir would die if 
he continued to travel with the Fellowship. I cannot convince him to 
leave with me immediately for Edoras. And if I do not leave soon, my 
brother will die. So I have come to you to ask for a favor." Haldir 
studied Eledwhen's distraught features, then gently took her right 
hand in his.

"I will do what I can, my lady. You have only to ask." Haldir was 
rewarded for his offer of help with a blinding smile and a grateful 
Princess, who threw herself against the Elf, wrapping her arms about 
him in gratitude.

"I knew you would help me. You are truly the dearest of friends." 
Eledwhen hurriedly recounted her vision as well as her conversations 
with Boromir and the Lord and Lady of Lórien. "You must see that I 
cannot be in two places at once; therefore, I must ask you to leave 
immediately for Rohan and warn my brother, Théodred, of this plot to 
kill him. My grandparents will never allow me to leave alone, and I do 
not believe I could reach my homeland should I even attempt such a 
journey by myself. But I know that you can, so I must beg you to 
undertake the journey."

Haldir was stunned by the request. He had hoped she would ask him to 
accompany her south to Edoras, but the request that he undertake the 
mission alone was not something for which he had been prepared. But 
his word was given and he had never broken a promise. "Are you certain 
this cannot wait until the Fellowship departs and you can travel to 
Rohan with the Lord Boromir?"

Eledwhen vehemently shook her head. "Nay, if you do not leave now and 
ride as fast as the wind, my brother will die at the Fords of the 
Isen. Saruman's orcs will slay him and Wormtongue's control over my 
father will tighten. What then shall become of my cousins, Éomer and 
Éowyn, frightens me. Please, Haldir, do this for me and I will forever 
be in your debt." Haldir smiled gently and brushed her hair with the 
back of a hand.

"I have said I will do what I can and so I shall, but I need some 
token to convince the Prince of the Mark that I come at your behest. 
The horse-lords are a superstitious lot and not ones to trust Elves. 
Present company excluded, of course."

Eledwhen nodded solemnly and cast her thoughts on what item she 
possessed that would convince Théodred that Haldir was not some 
servant of Saruman or the Dark Lord. Finally she smiled and removed 
the silver hairpin that kept her tresses swept upward. She placed the 
item in the Elf's hand.

Haldir studied the silver likeness of a running horse with flowing 
mane for a few moments before turning his gaze upon the Princess. His 
eyebrows were raised and she answered his unspoken question. "Théodred 
gave me this the day I turned 18. He designed it himself. Give this to 
my brother and repeat to him what I have told you. He will not 
question your purpose or your word."

Orophin had moved to stand beside his brother. His fair face was 
clouded with doubt. "And what, exactly, do you expect your brother to 
do? Run from battle or send others to die in his place?" Haldir shot 
his younger sibling a dark look, but Orophin did not back down. Rumil 
moved beside his brother in a show of solidarity. Eledwhen stared at 
the three of them as she struggled to find a truthful answer to the 
question. Finally she sighed.

"I have never been able to convince Théodred to have a care for his 
safety. He is a warrior who has seen 40 winters and I do not expect 
him to run away from a fight. I can only pray that this knowledge will 
change his battle strategy enough that he will not be overrun and 
murdered. Haldir, please, I beg you to do this for my sake and the 
sake of my country."

Haldir could feel his brothers' disapproval. He was not certain he 
could influence the Prince, but he had to try. He could not let 
Eledwhen down. It was at that moment he realized how deeply he cared 
for her. He heard a sharp sound of derisive laughter in his mind and 
lashed out verbally at its source. "Have you a better suggestion, 
Brother? The Prince of Rohan is related to our Lord and Lady. Would 
you do nothing to save his life?"

Orophin looked surprised. He had not thought about the mortal in that 
context, nor was he certain he approved of the number of Rohirrim that 
could claim kinship to the Elves of Lórien. Still, there was nothing 
to be done about it now and he could not let his brother face a 
dangerous journey alone. "If you must undertake this mission, then I 
shall go with you. Two Elves are better than one, it is said."

Rumil gaped at his brothers in disbelief. "Are you both mad? We have 
had no dealings with mortals since Théoden King was brought to Caras 
Galadon for healing. You know how high was the price the Lady 
Galadriel paid for her compassion. She has not forgiven Haldir for 
bringing the horse king to the city, and now you both want to run off 
to save his son! I doubt she will give her permission for you both to 
leave Lórien on this mission, especially when the Dark Lord may 
unleash his wrath against us at any moment."

Haldir grinned slyly. "I do not intend to ask for permission. I 
thought to simply disappear for a time."

Rumil stared at one brother and then the other before throwing up both 
hands in frustration. "Go if you must, but do not expect me to cover 
for you should the Lord or Lady ask after your whereabouts." Eledwhen 
moved to Rumil and placed a hand gently upon his shoulder.

"I should be eternally grateful for your silence in this matter, at 
least until they are too far away to be brought back. I know how much 
you love your brothers, for I have a brother whom I love deeply. 
Perhaps it is selfish of me to ask your brothers to risk their lives 
to save my brother, but I cannot help myself. I believe you would do 
the same in my place."

Rumil closed his eyes and a slight tremor passed through his slender 
frame. Eledwhen was suddenly overwhelmed by feelings of anger and 
gnawing fear. Gently she placed a hand to his forehead. Rumil opened 
his eyes as a sense of warmth and well being began to relax his mind 
and body. The princess smiled kindly. "Let me share your feelings and 
lessen their pain as I may. This, at least, I can do."

* * * * * * * * *

As Eledwhen returned to the stables, she spotted the Lord Aragorn 
speaking with the stable master. Both were standing beside a 
magnificent gray stallion bedecked in elaborate elvish accouterment. 
Both turned as the Princess drew abreast of them.

"What a magnificent animal! To whom does he belong?" Eledwhen leapt 
from her saddle, handed her reins to the stable master and moved to 
the stallion's head. "What is his name?" she asked, stroking its 
velvety nose.

"His name is Asfaloth. He occasionally agrees to carry me where I need 
to go." Eledwhen turned around quickly at the sound of the deep, yet 
soft, voice that sounded more like music than speech. Standing before 
her was the most beautiful Elf she had yet seen. She possessed 
luxurious dark hair kept off her face by two braids wrapped about her 
head. The pale, smooth skin was flawless, and her form was slender and 
graceful.

"Allow me to introduce the Lady Arwen Evenstar of Imladris," said 
Aragorn formally.

Arwen glanced in the direction of her betrothed and crinkled her nose 
ever so slightly before turning to Eledwhen. "I have heard much about 
you, Princess of Rohan. The Lord Boromir and I met during his stay in 
our city. It is good to finally meet my new cousin."

Eledwhen realized she was gaping at her Elven cousin from Imladris, 
quickly closed her mouth and moved to Arwen to give her a crushing 
hug. "Grandmother told me much about you as well. I cannot tell you 
how happy I am that you come to visit."

Arwen cast a sidelong glance at Aragorn and said softly, "I was afraid 
I would be too late to see the members of the Fellowship before they 
departed. I brought a gift for the Lord Aragorn." Eledwhen looked from 
Arwen to the Ranger, then back again.

"Oh, you two are… bonded?" she asked cautiously.

Both Elf and Man began laughing. Aragorn's laugh was deep and robust; 
Arwen's was light and musical, much like that of the Lady Galadriel. 
Eledwhen blushed because she thought they were laughing at her. "Do 
not worry, Cousin. We are not laughing at you, but at the expression 
on your face when you asked the question. You really looked quite 
shocked. The answer is that we have pledged ourselves to wed, but have 
not yet bonded ourselves in the way in which you mean. Elves may bond 
themselves to one mate for life, as have you and the Lord Boromir. My 
favorite Ranger and I have chosen not to bond until after the Dark 
Lord has been defeated, for I cannot see the end of the road that my 
beloved must take."

"And I will not allow my lady to bind herself to a man who may meet 
his end along that road. Plus, my future father-in-law has forbid it 
-- and he is not one to cross!" Aragorn took Arwen's hand in his and 
kissed the back of it lightly, chuckling softly at his jest about her 
father. There were tears in her eyes as she gently brushed his dark 
hair away from his face.

After a few silent minutes, she spoke. "Do you never shave, my love?" 
Surprised by the absurdity of the question in the context of the 
moment, Aragorn began to stammer a reply, but stopped when he saw the 
mischievous twinkle in Arwen's eyes.

Eledwhen watched them closely, thinking how much they belonged 
together. Suddenly she remembered that she had been gone for hours and 
had not told anyone she was leaving. Boromir would be frantic. "I am 
sorry, but I must leave now. I have been gone too long and am certain 
my husband will be fretting over my whereabouts." Turning to Arwen, 
she added, "I hope that you and I may find time to speak in private 
before we leave for Rohan."

Arwen frowned slightly. "Is it your intention to travel with the 
Fellowship?" Aragorn gave a slight shake of his head, trying to warn 
her off the subject.

"Of course. I could not possibly allow Boromir to travel home without 
me, for I believe strongly that he shall need me." Eledwhen executed a 
curtsey of respect and began to run toward Caras Galadon. Arwen turned 
stormy eyes upon the Ranger.

"What fool has told the Princess she may accompany the Fellowship?" 
she asked tightly. "Is there a pressing reason for her to risk her 
life along with the rest of you?"

Aragorn sighed deeply. "Boromir has insisted and the lady is willing. 
The Steward's son and I fought because of this. There is no swaying 
either of them from this course."

Arwen shook her head, clearly angry. "I shall talk with Grandmother 
about this. If the two of us cannot change Eledwhen's mind, then I 
shall have to come along as well."

Aragorn became angry in turn. "You shall NOT travel with us! I will 
not allow you to put yourself at such risk!"

Arwen's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You will not allow? Who saved 
Frodo from the Nazgul at the Ford of the Bruinen? Certainly not the 
haughty Ranger of the North. If the Princess of Rohan keeps company 
with the lot of you, then so shall I." With that, Arwen hefted her 
heavy riding skirt and stalked off toward the Elven city. Aragorn 
groaned at the thought of having to look after the safety of two 
females, even though he knew the Evenstar was skilled with a sword and 
bow.

Is it not enough that I must keep an eye on four nearly defenseless 
hobbits and the Lord of Gondor, who lusts after the One? Am I now to 
be distracted by the presence of two females? The Valar protect us 
all! Disgusted with the entire situation, Aragorn swung himself onto 
the back of the stallion ridden by Eledwhen and the two disappeared 
into the woods.

* * * * * * * * *

Eledwhen was standing alone in her and Boromir's room, staring 
sightlessly at the twinkling city below. Her thoughts were focused on 
Haldir and his journey southward to Rohan. She did not hear her 
husband enter or move to stand behind her.

"Where have you been?" he asked softly. Eledwhen jumped slightly, then 
turned to face Boromir.

"I went for a ride in the woods. I needed time alone to think." 
Boromir studied her closely. She was withholding something; otherwise, 
she would be able to look him in the eye.

"What is wrong? I know you too well to be fooled by such a weak 
attempt at subterfuge."

Eledwhen turned away from him, feeling guilty about keeping a secret 
from him. To hide her discomfort, she changed the subject. "The Lady 
Arwen is here. She says you met in Imladris."

Boromir's eyes widened in surprise. "What brings the Lady of Imladris 
so far from her home? Is something amiss?" Eledwhen shook her head, 
but did not turn back to face the man.

"I believe she wants to be with Aragorn as much as I desire to be with 
you. She also brought him a present."

Boromir looked startled. "They were together in Imladris a mere month 
ago. What could she have for him now she had not before we left?"

Eledwhen turned to face him. Something in his tone worried her. "What 
difference does it make that she chose to journey to Lórien to see her 
betrothed? Is there something you are not telling me, Husband? Are you 
jealous that he shall marry the Evenstar as well as claim your 
kingdom?"

The man shook his head vehemently in denial. "No, of course not. That 
is preposterous! Why would you even think it? I merely meant… I mean, 
it is unwise… oh, blast it all! You are half-elven. You figure it 
out!" Boromir was both angry and embarrassed, and clueless as to why. 
Flummoxed, he left the room and went in search of Haldir, who was the 
closest thing to a friend he had in the Golden Wood.

* * * * * * * * *

The Princess of Rohan was nervous. She had been summoned to her 
grandfather's library on the uppermost flet. It was rare for him to 
allow anyone, even Galadriel, to disturb him in what some referred to 
as his "innermost sanctum." Eledwhen could not imagine what she had 
done to have been summoned to his private refuge.

She stood timidly at the library's entrance, marshalling her courage. 
The Lord Celeborn was often quick to anger and his explosive temper 
terrified her. In Rohan, no one dared to raise their voice in her 
presence except Théodred, and even he left the room to spare her the 
worst of his outbursts. With a deep sigh, Eledwhen swept the covering 
across the entrance aside and stepped over the threshold. She was 
surprised to see that her grandfather was not alone. A stern-looking, 
dark Elf sat in a chair, leafing through a leather-bound book with 
pages edged in gold. He looked up as the girl entered and scrutinized 
her intently.

"Grandfather, you sent for me?" Eledwhen's eyes shifted to the unknown 
Elf, then quickly returned to the Lord Celeborn. She was relieved to 
see that he was smiling warmly.

"Eledwhen, there you are. I was beginning to worry about you. Where 
have you been?" Celeborn gave her one of his "I'll know if you lie to 
me" looks. The Princess was searching for a plausible answer when the 
visitor rose from his chair.

"Celeborn," he said gently. "Why don't you introduce me to your 
granddaughter?"

The golden Elven lord looked from Eledwhen to his guest. "Of course, I 
did not mean to be rude. Eledwhen, this is the Lord Elrond of 
Imladris. He and his daughter have come for a visit."

Immensely relieved by the change of topic, Eledwhen asked, "You are 
Arwen's father? I just spoke with her at the stables. She did not say 
that her father had journeyed with her."

Celeborn's cold voice interrupted their conversation. "And what, pray 
tell, where you doing at the stables? You did not say you were going 
out. I have told you never to ride alone; it is not safe." Eledwhen 
looked uncomfortable, and again the Lord of Imladris came to her aid.

"Celeborn, I should like to get to know Boromir's wife. Perhaps you 
could spare her company long enough for us to have tea in the garden?" 
Elrond's expression was innocently polite. The Lord of Lórien gave him 
an exasperated look, but acquiesced all the same. "Very good," Elrond 
said. "Would you be so kind as to send for my daughter to join us? I 
shall see you this evening at dinner. Come, my dear." The last was 
addressed to Eledwhen. Smiling at him gratefully, she took his offered 
arm and together they left the library. Neither said a word until they 
reached Galadriel's garden. Eledwhen removed her hand from his arm and 
walked over to the pond, where she pretended to study the many-hued 
fish. Elrond finally broke the silence.

"Now that I have thwarted what would have been a very uncomfortable 
conversation, why don't you tell me how you are getting along? I 
understand you have been ill."

Eledwhen looked at him balefully as tears began to form. Hastily she 
rubbed her eyes, angry with herself for constantly becoming so 
damnably emotional. A soothing voice inside her head urged her not to 
worry about such a natural occurrence. Her eyes widened and Elrond 
chuckled audibly.

"Surely you do not believe that only the Tree Elves have the ability 
to share their thoughts non verbally? It is a trait common to our 
race. Come, sit down and tell me how you fare physically. Lord 
Celeborn told me about the loss of your child. I am very sorry. I, 
too, have some skill as a healer. If I can help, you have but to ask."

Eledwhen nodded her thanks for his concern instead of speaking it 
because she was fighting off another crying spell. "Perhaps you can 
help by telling me why I constantly feel like crying? I have never 
been one to cry. It is such a childish thing to do!"

Elrond placed one of his large hands over her much smaller hands and 
said, in his most knowledgeable healer's voice, "When you were with 
child, your body underwent many changes. Surely your grandmother 
explained this to you?" Eledwhen nodded and the Elven lord continued, 
"Then do not fret over what cannot be helped. Soon enough your body 
will return to normal and you shall feel your old -- or rather young 
-- self again. Is there anything else you wish to tell me about your 
condition? Are you in any pain?" Eledwhen shook her head in the 
negative and Elrond visibly relaxed. "This is good. Now, tell me about 
events in your homeland. I would like to hear about your father and 
brother."

Eledwhen smiled warmly at the Lord of Imladris and began by telling 
him what her family members were like. She then proceeded to tell him 
about Rohan and its constant battles against the orcs and the 
political intrigue that made life in Edoras an unhappy one at best. 
She did not notice the appearance of Boromir, although Elrond sensed 
his presence. The Lord of Gondor had not heard about Gríma 
Wormtongue's attempts to gain Eledwhen's hand in marriage and he 
became angry.

"Why did you not tell me about this man's unwanted intentions? I shall 
put him in his place when we reach your city." Eledwhen had not told 
her husband about Wormtongue because she did not want him to cross her 
father's counselor. When they reached Edoras, Boromir would be alone 
and at the mercy of Gríma's henchmen.

"I did not tell you because it is no longer of importance. We are now 
man and wife. I have given up my claim to the throne of Rohan and, 
therefore, am no longer a prize to be coveted by Master Wormtongue. I 
fear, though, for Éowyn should my brother be murdered in battle and 
something equally horrible befall Éomer."

Boromir nodded his understanding. "And should all come to pass as you 
say, Théoden King would likely die in his sleep, the Worm would force 
your cousin to marry him and he would claim the crown. It is a bold 
plan."

"It is a wicked, evil plan! This commoner never could have come so 
close to the kingship if he had not the help of the wizard Saruman. I 
cannot bear to think what will happen to my country if his Uruks and 
orcs are allowed to run unfettered."

Elrond stood and held a hand out to the Princess. "Come, my dear. Why 
don't you go and find my daughter, Arwen, and see what she is up to? I 
would like a word with the Lord Boromir." Eledwhen looked at him, 
frowning, for she did not like the abruptness of her dismissal.

"I am not a child who needs to be told to run along and play when the 
grownups speak of serious matters." Elrond and Boromir shared an 
amused smile, which infuriated Eledwhen even more. "I shall go, but 
only if you apprise me of any important decisions the two of you make 
concerning myself or my country." She looked at them challengingly and 
both nodded their agreement. After a perfunctory curtsey, the Princess 
of Rohan left the garden.

"I must see what can be done about this king's counselor when I arrive 
in Rohan," Boromir said darkly. "Gondor cannot stand by while its ally 
is destroyed from within."

Elrond shook his head. "It would be unwise of you to openly challenge 
this Wormtongue, if that is your intent. You will be only one against 
many, and you have your own problems at home."

Boromir looked at him through narrowed eyes, contemplating what the 
Lord of Imladris might know about his father's actions. Elrond smiled 
and motioned toward the woods. "Come, let us walk among the mellyrns 
and discuss strategy. Perhaps we two can find a solution to both 
problems that will not involve bloodshed." The Steward's heir nodded, 
and the Elf and Man walked side by side into the Golden Wood.



-----




Chapter Seven
Rohan, My Rohan



I am posting this on the anniversary of my first chapter in the 
"Dynasty Broken" trilogy. It was exactly one year ago today, March 16, 
2002, that I posted Chapter I of Love and Lust. My heartfelt thanks to 
each and every one of you who has been here since the beginning and 
read all three stories. You are deeply appreciated. Readers who have 
recently found my works, thank you as well.

This chapter takes Haldir and Orophin to Meduseld, where they apprise 
Prince Théodred of events concerning his sister, Eledwhen. Osheen 
Nevoy, author of the cleverly written Boromir's Return, has asked that 
if I have to kill either Boromir or Théodred, that I please kill the 
Rohirrim prince. I think she just might be a Boromir fan.

Disclaimer: I write for fun and for the entertainment of others. I am 
not always logical; I am not trying to adhere strictly to canon. This 
story is A/U but based on canon and the early writings of Tolkien. 
Helpful suggestions and comments are appreciated; however, if you 
decide to enter my fantasy world and don't like my plot ideas, please 
keep those comments to yourself. Again, I appreciate positive input 
and will weave it into the story if possible. For instance, many 
readers have made a plea for Boromir to stop acting like a jerk. I 
have heard you and shall obey. Thank you faithful readers for your 
continued support. 





Rohan, My Rohan

Haldir and his brother, Orophin, made camp on the south side of the 
River Limlight two days after leaving the Golden Wood. They had 
"borrowed" a couple of Lórien horses, anticipating that the swift 
steeds would be able to reach Edoras well before the Fellowship left 
Caras Galadon.

"Tomorrow we shall set our course south and west across The Wold. In 
less than two more days we should reach Fangorn Forest." Haldir was 
grooming WindStar, one of the swiftest of the Lórien steeds and a 
favorite of the Lord Celeborn.

"I do not understand why you chose one of the few horses that will 
most certainly be missed if the Lord and Lady decide to go riding," 
Orophin grumbled as he brushed his own mount's sweat-soaked coat.

"I am on an errand for their granddaughter, who also is the Princess 
of Rohan. Only the swiftest steed will do for such an important 
mission. I notice that you chose one of the best horses in the 
stables."

Orophin gave his brother a "drop dead" look and continued to brush his 
mount in silence. Haldir was no longer expecting a reply when the 
other said, "I had to select a horse that could match WindStar's 
stamina. Is it my fault the mare belongs to the Lord of Imladris?"

Haldir laughed lightly. "Might as well take the best. The punishment 
will be the same. We must rely on Eledwhen's winning ways to sway the 
stern lords from skinning us alive." Orophin shot his brother a 
strange look. Haldir frowned, not understanding the meaning behind it. 
"Speak, Brother. What is on your mind?"

The younger sibling placed the brush back into his pack before meeting 
his brother's eyes. "I do not wish to see you hurt. And you will be if 
you continue to be influenced by Eledwhen's charms."

Haldir's eyes narrowed. "I have sensed something weighing heavily upon 
your mind for some time. Something you hesitate to put into words. It 
is now time to speak openly and plainly."

Sighing loudly, Orophin replied, "You have become too fond of the Lady 
Eledwhen; your judgement is impaired. I do not believe we would be on 
this potentially deadly mission except that you believe you are in 
love with her." Haldir began to protest, but his brother raised one 
hand, palm outward, to stop his denials. With his sibling silent, 
Orophin added, "Let us say that I believe you are not in love with the 
beautiful Eledwhen. Still, I know what your logic would be. I beg you, 
do not repeat your argument about saving one who is now kin to the 
Elves. I am not moved to tears by such flawed logic."

The marchwarden threw down the brush he had been using to groom 
WindStar and strove to master his growing disgust with Orophin's 
obtuseness. "You just refuse to see why saving the life of the Prince 
of Rohan is so important."

"Why don't you enlighten me?" Orophin responded dryly. "I certainly do 
not see how one less mortal populating Middle-earth will matter in the 
great scheme of things."

Haldir looked at his brother coldly and took three deep breaths before 
speaking. "Should Saruman gain control of the Mark, Gondor will fall 
without the horse-lords' aid. If Gondor fails, so, too, will 
Middle-earth. It will not matter one whit to us for we shall board our 
grand ships and sail to the Undying Lands. But what will happen to 
Aragorn and his kinfolk? Would you aid in their destruction?"

Orophin bowed his head and appeared to be studying his hands. When he 
finally looked up, there were tears in his eyes. "I have never allowed 
myself to think about the death and destruction that will occur when 
the Dark Lord's full wrath is unleashed. I had thought to convince you 
and Rumil to leave before then."

"I never figured you for a coward, Brother. Perhaps you were wrong to 
come along on this mission. It is likely far too dangerous for you. 
You may return to Lórien if you wish. You owe me nothing, and you may 
be fortunate enough to return before you have been missed." Haldir was 
both angry and disappointed by his brother's selfishness.

"Nay, Haldir. I will remain by your side as long as we both draw 
breath. I will not be judged faithless." Orophin's smile was sad as he 
shifted the long bow strung across his back to a more comfortable 
position. "I will take the watch. Take some rest, if you can. I will 
be here when you awaken."

* * * * * * * * *

In less than two days, they were skirting the edge of Fangorn Forest 
at the western edge of The Wold. Haldir was becoming increasingly 
nervous as a foreshadowing of death pricked at his consciousness. 
Afraid they would arrive too late to save Eledwhen's brother, they 
pushed onward at an even greater speed, slowing down only to cross the 
River Entwash. On the opposite bank, the two dismounted and wrung out 
their wet clothing and the few items they had packed for the journey. 
The stars were just beginning to appear in the heavens.

"What say you to a hot meal, Brother? Perhaps it will improve that 
sour disposition of yours." Haldir was kneeling on the ground beside 
the saddlebags, a wide grin on his face, waiting for Orophin's reply. 
When it did not come, Haldir started to scold his younger brother, but 
stopped when he realized Orophin was listening to something in the 
distance -- something he could not hear even with his keen Elvish 
senses. He knew well that Orophin's hearing was far superior to his 
own and so did not waste time with foolish questions. Instead, Haldir 
stood and listened for whatever had captured Orophin's attention. 
Gradually he could hear faint sounds of a fierce battle. "Let us go, 
little brother," the marchwarden said urgently. "Someone may need our 
help."

Both hurriedly gathered their gear, flung it onto the horses' backs, 
leapt into their saddles and nearly flew across the Westemnet. After 
nearly 15 minutes of hard riding, they drew their slender Elven bows 
in unison as the loud shouts and screams verified their arrival at a 
battlefield as yet unseen. Both mounts pounded furiously up the side 
of a small hillock, beyond which lay the winter lawn of Rohan. The 
once idyllic picture of rolling grasslands had been slashed and ruined 
by the commingling of red and black blood. The two Elves beheld for 
the first time the sight of men locked in mortal combat with the great 
strength of Saruman's fighting Uruk-hai. Haldir turned to face his 
sibling. "If you leave now, I shall not count you faithless." Orophin 
smiled, nocked an arrow to his great bow, took careful aim and began 
felling orcs. Nothing more was said as the two Elves rode to rescue 
the men of the Mark.

* * * * * * * * *

Éomer was trapped in the midst of the battle, surrounded on all sides 
by Uruk-hai almost as tall as himself. The King's sister-son no longer 
could see those who had ridden with him and was beginning to believe 
that this truly might be his last battle. Éomer raised his sword to 
fend off a large Uruk, only to watch in surprise (and relief, for he 
was tiring quickly) as it dropped dead at his feet. He barely had time 
for a quick glance at the protruding yellow-fletched arrow before two 
orcs jumped on his back. One of the creatures tried to maneuver a 
short-bladed dagger past his armor and into his flesh, while the other 
attempted to separate his head from his neck. The weight of the two 
orcs drove Éomer to his knees. As he fell, he thrust his sword up and 
backward, managing to skewer one of the orcs. The other, however, had 
found a weak link in his armor and the King's nephew felt pressure 
against his side. Thankfully, the finely linked chain mail stopped the 
poisoned blade from piercing his flesh long enough for another of the 
yellow-shafted arrows to find its mark. As the orc's dead weight 
almost knocked Éomer flat on the ground, a hand reached out to him.

"I tire of saving members of Rohan's royal family. Can you horse 
people not take care of yourselves?" Éomer looked up, surprised by the 
sound of the lyrical voice, which he knew could not belong to an orc 
or warrior of the Riddermark. The Third Marshall's mouth fell open at 
the sight of the elegant creature standing above him, exquisite hand 
extended. "Are you going to get up, or would you prefer to die on your 
knees?"

Éomer took the proffered hand, rose to his feet and almost immediately 
had to jump to the side to avoid the thrust of an orc scimitar. He 
needn't have bothered, however, for the beautiful creature beside him 
cut the creature's throat in one fluid, deft motion. "You must be kin 
to the late Queen Elanor," Éomer gasped, as the realization that he 
was looking at an Elf hit him like a 200-pound Uruk.

"I suggest you pay more attention to the battle. I'd hate to take the 
news of your death to the Princess." Haldir grinned impishly at the 
man he assumed was either Eledwhen's brother or cousin, for his 
breastplate bore the King's emblem of the white horse. Éomer had no 
time to reply, as more orcs rushed them in deadly earnest. Haldir 
actually smiled as he killed, for he preferred to slay orcs with a 
sword or knife. The bow and arrow were far too impersonal a means of 
ridding the earth of such foul creatures. He liked to hear the death 
screams of the ones whose lives he ended.

The battle lasted only a few minutes more. The orcs and Uruks 
withdrew, daunted by the swift death meted out so recklessly by the 
two Elves. They had been prepared to fight men, but the presence of 
the Elves unnerved them and they fled in the direction of Isengard. 
Éomer watched the creatures retreat, then turned his grim visage upon 
the battlefield. The sight of dead Rohirrim soldiers always made him 
both sad and angry. On this day, however, he was just plain mad. 
Gradually he became aware of the two tall figures standing beside him.

"I thank you for saving my life, strangers. Tell me, have you seen 
Eledwhen? Is she safe?" Haldir returned the blade he had just cleaned 
to its sheath and smiled warmly at the warrior before him.

"Yes, to both of your questions. Now tell me who you are. Are you, 
perchance, Eledwhen's brother?"

Éomer shook his head in the negative. "Nay, I am her cousin, Éomer, 
son of Éomund, and Third Marshall of the Mark. Prince Théodred was 
seriously wounded in battle a few days ago and has been ordered abed. 
My sister, the Lady Éowyn, is making certain that he follows the 
healer's orders. Did Eledwhen send you to find her brother?"

At that moment Hama approached. Éomer turned to him and they began 
speaking swiftly in the rolling tongue of the Rohirrim. Although the 
two brothers did not understand the words, they understood the facial 
expressions of the men and the tone in which the words were spoken. 
Éomer abruptly turned back to Haldir. "We have no time to stack the 
orcs and burn their bodies, as is our custom. We must gather our dead 
and wounded and leave this place immediately. Our scouts say the orcs 
are regrouping at the Fords of the Isen." Éomer barked orders to his 
men before again addressing the two Elves. "If you wish to speak with 
the Prince, I suggest you ride with us to Edoras. However, I ask that 
you both ride with the wounded, for those of us unmarked must reach 
the city as swiftly as we may to bear the grim tidings."

Haldir nodded. "I suppose my tale can wait until I can speak with both 
you and Prince Théodred. I would add, 'and the King,' but my words 
must not be repeated to Gríma Wormtongue." Éomer smiled knowingly.

"Eledwhen only pretends not to notice what is going on around her as 
concerns politics. And, too, she has her own reasons for despising 
Wormtongue." Haldir nodded to show he knew of that of which Éomer 
spoke. "Then you will travel with the wounded and help protect them?"

"Of course, my lord. My brother and I will help in any way we can. 
Since we have not been properly introduced, I am called Haldir and 
this is my younger brother, Orophin. He speaks almost nothing of any 
language other than our own, which is why I speak for us both." Éomer 
laughed softly.

"I thought him mute, or else very wise." The Third Marshall whistled 
shrilly and a gray gelding ran to him. He spoke to the animal in 
Rohirric and the horse tossed its head up and down and pawed the 
ground, eager to be off. The proud war horse did not like the smell of 
the dead orcs. Éomer mounted, replaced his helm, and ordered the men 
who were fit to ride to follow him.

Haldir and Orophin watched him for a few minutes. "Now that is a man 
worthy of a kingship," Haldir noted respectfully. "I wonder if 
Eledwhen's brother will be as impressive." Hama, who had been left in 
charge of the operation, strode over to the two brothers and glared at 
them, hands on his hips.

"Are you only ornamental, or can you work as well?" he growled. Haldir 
executed an overly exaggerated bow, translated for Orophin (who glared 
menacingly at Hama) and both began helping to construct makeshift 
litters to carry the seriously wounded.

* * * * * * * * *

As Haldir and Orophin passed through the huge gates of Edoras, they 
were met by a rider sent to escort them to Meduseld. Both found the 
chief city of the horse people quaint and extremely rustic. Haldir 
moved his mount closer to Orophin and spoke in the Silvan tongue. "I 
should not like to live in such a place. Their roads are abominable 
and their living conditions are primitive at best. How the Lady Elanor 
could have given up Lothlórien for this dung hole I cannot imagine. 
Eledwhen certainly deserves better."

Orophin grinned mischievously. "She has better, for she is now the 
wife of the Steward of Gondor's heir. I hear that the White City is 
fair beyond mortal words." Haldir favored his brother with a "drop 
dead" look, then peered upward as the great hall of Meduseld loomed 
above them. "Here, perhaps, is a place closer to your standards. No 
doubt the royal family resides here." Orophin was enjoying the 
opportunity to poke fun at his older brother.

Their escort stopped at the foot of many roughly chiseled and very 
steep stairs. He dismounted and indicated, by an abrupt nod of his 
head, that they should do the same. Men appeared to take their Elven 
horses. Haldir immediately stepped close to the man who reached for 
WindStar's reins. "These are horses of Elven lords. If you do not 
treat them with the proper respect, I will have your hide," he 
growled, trying to intimidate the mortal.

The stable hand smiled condescendingly. "I have had the honor of 
caring for Shadowfax, chief of the Mearas and the greatest horse that 
ever lived. I believe I am qualified to groom and feed your mounts, 
even though they be of Elfish origin." Haldir's angry glare gave the 
man cause to step back and lower his eyes. "I will care for them as 
though they are the King's own," he mumbled.

"See to it that you do," Haldir added haughtily. After a mental 
directive for Orophin to follow, Lórien's marchwarden climbed the 
stairs, his bearing extremely regal, as befitting an emissary of the 
Galadrim.

* * * * * * * * *

Éomer met the Elves and rushed them immediately to Prince Théodred 's 
rooms. He was eager to hear about his cousin, and he also did not want 
Wormtongue confronting them before they saw Théodred. He wanted Éowyn 
to hear their story, but she had disappeared and nobody seemed to know 
of her whereabouts. When Haldir and Orophin entered, Théodred was by 
the fire, seated in a high-backed chair. His legs were propped upon an 
ottoman covered by a colorful tapestry depicting horses and men of 
war. The brothers bowed as one.

"You bring news of my sister?" Théodred's eyes were bright, reflecting 
his eagerness to hear news of Eledwhen. "Come, pour yourselves 
something to drink and then let us speak. This is truly amazing. After 
all the months of worrying about her well being, I find she is with 
the Elves. How did this come to be? Where is the Lord Boromir? If you 
tell me that he deserted her, I will have his head."

Haldir took a small sip of the spiced wine he had poured into a glass 
and was surprised to find it delicious. He took a larger sip and then 
stared the Prince directly in the eye. "Boromir did not desert your 
sister, though he did leave her in Lórien when he left for Imladris."

Théodred's eyes narrowed. "What were they doing in the Golden Wood? I 
thought their path would lead them across the Gap of Rohan."

Haldir's smile was smug. "As to how the Steward's son managed to get 
lost, I can not say. I am not privy to his councils. However, I can 
say that your sister saved Boromir's life when brigands attacked 
them."

Éomer and Théodred exchanged amused smiles. "And how is Eledwhen?" the 
Prince asked.

"She is better now that she has recovered from the orc attack and her 
miscarriage," Haldir replied innocently. The fierce reaction to his 
words, by both men, was everything he had hoped for.

"Gondor's heir allowed orcs to ravish my sister?" Théodred was now on 
his feet, his hands balled into fists and his face flushed a deep red.

Éomer gripped the Elf's shoulders and shouted, "Tell us quickly what 
happened. I will have Boromir torn apart by horses if my cousin was 
hurt whilst under his protection!"

Haldir removed the Third Marshall's hands from his shoulders and said 
soothingly, "Peace, friends. Allow me to explain." As Haldir told the 
two men about Eledwhen's capture by orcs and her subsequent marriage 
and miscarriage, he enjoyed watching the range of emotions that played 
across their faces. It was Théodred who finally spoke.

"You say she is well, though it is no thanks to Boromir's care. This 
marriage of theirs… is it legal? Are they truly man and wife?"

Haldir nodded vigorously. He did not want anyone to think Eledwhen was 
anything but a pillar of virtue. "Under my people's laws, they are 
wed. They pledged themselves to one another and consummated that 
pledge." Haldir smiled mentally at Théodred's scowl over the latter.

"You swear this was not some trick that the Lord Boromir used to bed 
my sister?" Théodred asked gravely. Haldir again assumed an innocent 
expression.

"I assure you that your sister is formerly married, though it pains me 
to say so since I am fond of the Princess."

Éomer raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and why is that? Does he treat her 
badly?"

"Oh, no, my lords," Haldir said quickly. "At least, he does not mean 
to. But he goes about fighting any male who gets too close to the 
Princess, and even managed to cut her with his dagger when she 
attempted to break up a fight between himself and another man. I am 
afraid he is not at all a suitable match for your sister." At this 
point Haldir sighed deeply for dramatic effect. Orophin took advantage 
of the following silence to ask his brother what they had been 
discussing and why the two men were so upset. Haldir waved him away, 
saying only that he would tell him everything later.

"If what you say is truth, I shall have a long discussion with the 
Lord Boromir the next time I see him. In the meantime, I would know 
why you are here." Théodred looked expectantly at Haldir, waiting for 
an explanation. His piercing stare made the Elf feel a tad 
uncomfortable. This was a man who gave no quarter, nor asked for it.

"The Princess Eledwhen had a vision that foretold your death at the 
Fords of the Isen. She is not well enough to travel and so asked that 
I deliver the warning. I came as quickly as I could."

Théodred studied the Elf closely as though trying to come to some 
decision. "You left the Golden Wood to journey to a land where people 
believe Elves to be sorcerers… or worse. Why would you risk your lives 
for a mere dream?"

Haldir thought a moment, then replied, "It was a very frightening 
dream."

The Prince laughed grimly. "All life is but a dream… a frightening 
dream. Why should this one be worse than any other?" Haldir did not 
answer, and after a few moments the Prince turned to his cousin.

"What think you about this? Does the Elf lie? Perhaps he is a servant 
of Saruman or the Dark Lord and is trying to trick us into some trap." 
Éomer shook his head almost imperceptibly and raised his shoulders in 
a noncommittal gesture. Théodred turned back to Haldir. "What proof 
have you that you are who you say?"

Haldir smiled and reached into a leather pouch that hung from his 
waist. "Your sister warned that you would need proof of the sincerity 
of my mission. Eledwhen sends this to you as a token, that it might 
ease your mind and erase any doubts about my word."

Théodred accepted the item the Elf held out for him and thoughtfully 
studied the silver likeness of a running horse with flowing mane. 
"Tell me what you know of this and what it means to my sister, so that 
I may judge whether you are a true friend."

"Her words to me were these: Théodred gave me this the day I turned 
18. He designed it himself. Give this to my brother and repeat to him 
what I have told you. He will not question your purpose or your word. 
Did the Princess speak true? Are you now prepared to accept my words 
as truth?"

Théodred was frowning. "What does Eledwhen expect? She knows me well 
enough to understand that I shall not run from such a battle."

Again Haldir smiled. "I think Eledwhen's words to me explain all, for 
she said: I have never been able to convince Théodred to have a care 
for his safety. He is a warrior who has seen 40 winters and I do not 
expect him to run away from a fight. I can only pray that this 
knowledge will change his battle strategy enough that he will not be 
overrun and murdered. And I ask again, is the Princess' fear grounded 
in truth? Will you still rush into a battle you know will be your 
last? Will you leave the Mark to Wormtongue's tender mercies?"

Éomer placed his hand upon his sword's hilt and spoke angry words. 
"You overstep your welcome, Elf. It is not your place to question the 
Prince! What he chooses to do or not do is none of your concern. You 
have not the right to question the will of the Prince of the 
Riddermark!"

Haldir looked at both men, disgust plainly written on his fair Elven 
face. "Alright, then, do as you please. I care not whether you live or 
die, but I do care about Eledwhen. Only because that dear, sweet child 
was tormented by the thought of her brother's death did I leave my 
homeland. Now I have been insulted and am thought to be a liar. I have 
fulfilled my oath to the Princess and I am leaving. The future of 
Middle-earth is in your hands. Do with it what you will!"

At that moment the door flew open and the White Lady of Rohan stumbled 
across the threshold. She was weeping wildly. Éomer took in her torn 
gown and disheveled hair, and his mind jumped to the conclusion that 
she had been attacked. "Who has dared to harm you?" he roared.

Éowyn stared at him, fear cleaving her tongue to the roof of her 
mouth. She knew that the answer to her brother's question would most 
likely mean his death. Suddenly she became aware of the two tall 
figures standing beside her cousin. An image of Eledwhen filled her 
sight, followed by horrible images of Théodred's demise. Unable to 
deal with both her assault and the visions of death, Éowyn slid to the 
floor unconscious.



-------




8. A Fatal Attraction
 

Fear not, Osheen. Our iron maiden will not make a habit of fainting. She just 
had a jolt from sensory overload. Seems like Eledwhen's dreams are catching. 
Could it be Haldir's influence? Has Wormtongue been up to his old tricks? Read 
on and find out.

Disclaimer: I write for fun and for the entertainment of others. I am not always 
logical; I am not trying to adhere strictly to canon. This story is A/U but 
based on canon and the early writings of Tolkien. Helpful suggestions and 
comments are appreciated and will be woven into the story, if possible. For 
instance, many readers have made a plea for Boromir to stop acting like a jerk. 
I have heard you and shall obey. Thank you faithful readers for your continued 
support. 

A Fatal Attraction

Éomer rushed to his sister, who was lying unconscious on the cold floor, while 
Théodred splashed wine into a cup. "Move her into my chamber. The bed warmer has 
already been set to the sheets." 

Haldir knelt beside the Third Marshall, who was now sitting on the floor 
cradling Éowyn's head. "Let me take her," he said gently.  

Éomer's stare was stony as he growled, "I do not need your help. Théodred, if 
you could spare a hand?" The Prince placed the cup back upon the table and moved 
to help his cousin maneuver Éowyn off the floor. Once on his feet, Éomer lifted 
his sister into his arms and carried her into Théodred's bedchamber. The Prince 
began to follow, remembered the wine, and moved to retrieve it. He stopped, 
fingers almost touching the cup's smooth side, frozen, his gaze lured to the 
flames in the fireplace.

Théodred had never taken his sister's visions seriously for unlike most men who 
regularly risk their lives on the battlefield the Prince was not particularly 
superstitious. A young girl's fantasies were of no importance to the future King 
of Rohan, as the worsening plight of his country forced him to deal in harsh 
realities. And while some of Eledwhen's dreams, or visions, did come true, 
Théodred counted this as mere chance. He and his father had tolerated Queen 
Elanor's peculiarities because she was an Elf. When Eledwhen began displaying 
many of the same "talents" they'd lovingly indulged her whimsies. But neither 
had seriously believed the two females' claims to be able to predict the future 
through dreams. After the Queen's untimely death, Eledwhen had been warned not 
to go about the city frightening her father's subjects with such superstitious 
nonsense. The King's duty was to allay the citizenry's fears, not to inflame 
them.    

Now the Prince of the Mark began to doubt the wisdom of dismissing his sister's 
visions out of hand. Within the roaring fire, Théodred could see the land beside 
the Fords of the Isen littered with Rohan's warriors, like so much discarded 
debris. And there was Elfhelm, kneeling beside his hacked and broken body.

"What do you see, my Lord Prince?" Haldir had moved to stand beside the man, his 
voice low so as not to startle him.

"I see a leader of men, his red blood staining the yellow grass of his country. 
I see death and doom and no way out." Turning to face Haldir, Théodred said 
bitterly, "I see an Elf who would emasculate the Prince of Rohan with tales of 
his death. Be gone! Leave us mortals to our fate." Turning his back on his 
visitors, the Prince resumed his contemplation of the writhing flames.

Haldir bowed stiffly and motioned for Orophin to follow him. As he opened the 
door, Théodred spoke to him once more. "Tell my sister that I love her. Tell 
her… tell her that I wish her good fortune and happiness in her marriage." 
Haldir watched the Prince of the Mark turn away from the fire, pick up the cup 
of wine and walk heavily into his bedchamber, closing the door resolutely behind 
him. 

"Come, Orophin. It is time to return home. There is nothing more we can do 
here."

* * * * * * * * *

When Théodred entered his sleeping chamber, Éomer was sitting on the bed tucking 
a thick fur pelt about his sister. "How is she?" the Prince asked softly.

"I cannot tell. Perhaps we should send for the healer?" Éomer looked up at his 
cousin and frowned. "You look as though you have seen a ghost. What did the Elf 
say to you?" 

Théodred shook his head and handed the cup of wine to the Third Marshall. "It is 
not important. We must discover what happened to Éowyn. If someone has harmed 
her, I swear that he will not live to see the sunrise."

Éomer started to reply, but was distracted by his sister's soft whimper. He 
gently pushed her hair off her face and waited for her to awaken.  

* * * * * * * * *

Gríma Wormtongue stood in the dimly lit hall, staring at the door to the 
Prince's chambers. Wary of being seen, he wisely kept to the shadows. " Éowyn," 
he whispered again and again, the name like a litany upon his lips. A sound 
farther down the corridor caused him to melt against the wall. Despite his 
unnatural hold over the King, he knew that one of the two men within those 
chambers would kill him once they learned of this night's deeds. "How could she 
know about me and the wizard?" he mused. "I have been so careful. I should not 
have allowed her to leave my presence. She will ruin everything."

Torn by fear and doubt, the King's chief counselor moved away from certain 
death; his sixth sense told him that only in Isengard would he be safe. Once 
Théodred and Éomer had been dealt with, however, he could return to Edoras and 
take that which he had desired for so long. Although his schemes had been 
uncovered, Wormtongue was certain that Saruman could overcome such a relatively 
minor obstacle.

Hurrying to his rooms to pack a few belongings for his journey, Gríma daydreamed 
about the glorious life he would lead once all the male members of the royal 
family had been disposed of. "I shall have Éowyn in my bed and the crown upon my 
head," he said softly, as though he feared saying the words too loudly would 
bring misfortune. "The wizard has sworn it shall be so."

* * * * * * * * *    

The third hour of the morning was at hand when Éowyn became fully conscious. 
Éomer was sleeping in a chair beside the bed; Théodred was dozing beside the 
fire's dying embers. Éowyn slowly propped herself upon her elbows and attempted 
to clear her head. Éomer responded immediately, his warrior's keen senses 
alerting him to her movements. "Éowyn, what happened to you? Who has dared to 
lay hands upon the King's kin and my own precious sister?"

The Prince was awakened by the sound of his cousin's voice. Rubbing the sleep 
from his tired eyes, Théodred rose heavily to his feet and picked up the cup 
filled with wine. He studied Éowyn closely as he approached the bed. She was 
unnaturally pale and her eyes darted about the room as though seeking some 
threat. "Here, Cousin, drink this. It is no longer warm, but it should help 
clear your head." Éowyn took the wine gratefully and drained the cup in a single 
motion. "I see your tolerance for spirits has not been affected by whatever 
mishap you encountered," Théodred said, keeping his voice gentle and soothing.

"You needn't use that 'sick room' tone of voice with me, Cousin. I am perfectly 
alright."

Éomer shook his head. "You are not 'perfectly alright.' You have had a shock. 
And I will know who tore your clothing." Éowyn stared at him blankly and looked 
down at herself. She seemed perplexed to find that her bodice had been ripped 
down the middle, exposing her undergarments. Slowly she shook her head, a frown 
creasing her brow.

Théodred cleared his throat purposefully, sat down on the bed, and took one of 
Éowyn's hands in his. "Patience, Éomer. Do not rush the girl. Give her time to 
collect herself."

Éowyn pulled her hand from her cousin's grasp, suddenly angry. "How many times 
have I told you not to refer to me as 'the girl?' I am a shield maiden and no 
man's girl!" Her tone was indignant. "Would you refer to my brother as a boy?"  
Éomer looked mortified by his sister's outburst, but Théodred began laughing. 

"Now that I know you are alright, I would hear your tale. What happened to cause 
you to faint? Except for the one time you became ill at the age of 11, I have 
never known you to swoon." Théodred looked at her expectantly, while Éomer moved 
to stand behind his cousin.

Éowyn searched both their faces, sighed, and began relaying the events of the 
past evening. She told them how Wormtongue had approached her in the corridor 
outside her chambers with a story of the King being at death's door. She'd 
unhesitatingly accompanied Gríma until she'd realized that he was not leading 
her to Théoden's chambers or to the wing where the healers keep the sick and 
wounded. She'd questioned the King's counselor, who had then grabbed her and 
shoved her against the wall hard enough to knock her senseless. "When I 
awakened, I was… I was…" Éowyn's words faded to silence and she shot a nervous 
glance toward her brother. 

"It is alright," Théodred said gently. "You are safe now. You have my word that 
Gríma will never touch you again." Éowyn cast another troubled glance at her 
brother and continued to remain mute. Théodred looked from her to the Third 
Marshall. "Éomer, please bring your sister more wine. And heat it, please."

Éomer moved to the door and opened it before realizing that the Prince was using 
the wine as an excuse to get him out of the room. He started to object, but 
decided that perhaps Théodred was right. His sister might feel freer to speak 
with her brother out of earshot. "I will be just outside if you need me, 'Wyn." 
 Éowyn avoided his eyes. Frowning, Éomer closed the door behind him.   

"I sense you do not want Éomer to know what has happened, perhaps because you 
fear he may do something rash. We both know your brother has no skill for 
political games and that Gríma often has goaded him into acting against his own 
best interests. I admit I do not wish to tangle with the man, but I will do so 
gladly if you say he has broken our laws." Théodred fell silent and waited for 
his cousin to speak.

"I can deal with this problem myself, Cousin," she said finally. "I would place 
no other at risk. It is I who was wronged and I who must right that wrong. I 
cannot… nay, I will not… let you or my brother fight my battles."

Théodred sighed and ran a hand over his face. "You might as well tell me 
straight out, for you are not leaving this room until I am satisfied."

Éowyn began biting her lower lip, mulling her options. "I would speak if I knew 
my words would not be repeated to my brother. I do not mean to be disrespectful, 
but sometimes I must do what is necessary to protect Éomer from himself."

Théodred's eyes shone with laughter, but that laughter never touched the rest of 
his rugged features. "If you will share your burden with me, I will keep your 
words to myself. You have my oath on this." Éowyn closed her eyes and rested the 
back of her head against the thick wooden headboard. Finally, she came to a 
decision.

"I will speak truly if you will swear to take no action. I mean what I say… I 
shall deal with this myself. I will have no man fight my battles. Are we 
agreed?"

Théodred smiled ruefully and nodded his head. "You are more of a politician than 
I believed. You bargain like a horse trader. Now, please tell me what passed 
between yourself and my father's counselor."

The Prince managed to keep his emotions firmly in check as he listened to 
Éowyn's hesitant rendition of her ordeal. "When I came to my senses I was in 
Wormtongue's quarters on his bed. He was bending over me… touching me. My 
clothes were torn. I started to scream but he clamped a hand over my mouth. I 
fought him… clawed at him with my nails… but he is stronger than he seems. I was 
desperate to get away from him and angry at such audacity. I am afraid that I 
lost control and told him something I should not have. Oh, Théodred, I told 
Gríma that I know he is spying for the wizard of Isengard and that you will hang 
him for his treason! I thought I had seen Wormtongue angry, but never like 
that." 

The Prince responded in a low and angry voice, "How long have you known that 
Gríma is a spy, and why have you said nothing to me about this matter?"

Éowyn shuddered involuntarily. She had never seen Théodred's demeanor so cold, 
and never had his anger been directed toward the girl he had taught to ride and 
to wield a sword. "I have not known for certain… it was only a suspicion. I did 
not want to burden you with unsubstantiated rumors. You have so much to deal 
with… your father, the safety of the Mark… I could not place more upon your 
shoulders until I was sure. But when Gríma attacked me, the only weapon I 
possessed was words. I flung the accusation at him, hoping to catch him 
off-balance and escape."

Théodred's expression gradually softened and he looked lovingly upon the girl 
he'd helped rear. Éowyn looked up, saw the smile, and wild hope that she had not 
harmed their relationship surged within her breast. However, when Théodred's 
face became grim again, she feared he would unleash more of his anger. Instead 
he said quietly, "Was this tact successful? Or will you say that my father's 
chief counselor must be put to death for dishonoring the King's 
sister-daughter?"

"Nay, Théodred, nay! For the first time since I laid eyes upon the Worm he was 
unsure of himself and his actions. A burning rage took him and he seemed to lose 
all reason. He came at me with murder in his eyes, but his rage left him 
unbalanced and I was able to get in a few good kicks. You know… the kind you and 
Éomer taught me." Éowyn was hoping her mild jest would make Théodred smile, but 
he remained as grim as death. As she watched Theodred's face, the full impact of 
the damage she had done finally occurred to her. What have I done? I have signed 
his death warrant. Aloud she said, "Yell at me… call me unworthy… anything. I 
know I should not have tipped my hand! Please, Cousin, please forgive my 
weakness."    

Éowyn dropped her head and sobbed into her hands. She hated herself for having 
placed her own welfare and safety above that of her Prince's well being. She'd 
never felt so miserable, not even when her mother and father had died and she 
had been forced to leave her home and friends to live in Edoras. She was, 
therefore, surprised to feel the warmth of her cousin's arms as he wrapped them 
about her.

"I had hoped not to be forced to confront Gríma until after my father's death. 
Once I am King, I can let him rot in the dungeons on any number of charges. But 
now… I do not know if even I can reach Théoden. I fear Wormtongue has cast some 
spell upon him. If it is true he is in league with the wizard, then I cannot 
doubt this. Tell me, Éowyn. What would you have me do? What punishment would you 
have me mete out for this outrage against your person?"

Éowyn was silent, searching her cousin's haggard face for some sign of how she 
should answer. "When I came into the antechamber, I was overwhelmed by a 
foreshadowing of your death. I saw not you standing in the room, but your corpse 
lying on Rohan soil, your life's blood watering the winter grass. I assumed the 
vision was merely the result of my guilty conscious." Théodred arose from the 
bed quickly, his face white. Frightened, Éowyn jumped up and gripped his arms. 
"What is it, Théodred? You saw something, too; it is written on your face."

The Prince spoke haltingly. "I saw my death at the Fords of the Isen. The death 
that Eledwhen saw for me in the waters of the Golden Wood." Éowyn pulled away 
from him, confused, and questions tumbled from her lips like water over the 
Falls of Rauros.

"Eledwhen is in the Golden Wood? How? And how do you know of this dream? Have 
you heard from her?" Suddenly, a new thought hit her. "Théodred, we have never 
experienced one of your sister's dreams! Why now? What is happening?"

"It may have been the presence of the Elf … that somehow he placed these visions 
in our thoughts. I do not pretend to understand that which Queen Elanor called 
'Elven Magic.' However, not even Eledwhen's mother was able to foretell her own 
death. That my sister had a vision of my death is disturbing, to say the least."

"What will you do?" she whispered.  

"What I must. I will not hide in Meduseld because my sister has seen my end. If 
it is my fate to be slain in battle, then so be it. I have survived countless 
battles for more than 25 years and never been seriously wounded. Yet I have 
always known that my luck would one day run out." Éowyn began to speak, but 
stopped when she saw movement in the doorway. 

"Let me lead any battle that takes place at the Fords of the Isen, my Prince. It 
would be folly to throw away your life when we have been forewarned." Éomer 
stood framed in the doorway, his body as erect as though he were at attention. 
Théodred looked at him sharply.

"Would you have me command all my battles from the safety of Edoras? What kind 
of leader would I make when the time comes for me to be crowned King if I now 
shirk my duties as Second Marshall? I shall be the laughing stock of the Mark! 
Nay, we shall not change our battle strategies one whit. If my fate is written, 
then so be it. I will have no more talk on this subject."

Éomer stood silent a few moments before entering the room. Having lost the 
battle with Théodred, he turned his piercing gaze upon Éowyn. "I have given you 
plenty of time to collect yourself, Sister. Are you now ready to explain what 
happened to you this night?"

Éowyn looked at Théodred for support, but the Prince seemed removed, his 
thoughts turned inward. Realizing she would have to handle Éomer by herself, she 
squared her shoulders and faced him. "If I speak the words to explain what 
passed with Wormtongue, I fear you may act rashly and seal your doom. Théodred 
and I have discussed the situation and it is agreed that I shall handle the 
matter myself."

Éomer made a choking sound. "This is not a matter for you to handle alone! I 
believe Gríma may have dishonored you and it is my right as your closest kin to 
settle the score. If you could handle the matter yourself,your clothing would 
not have been torn in the first place, nor would you have fainted in my arms. I 
command that you tell me what happened!"

Éowyn's blue eyes blazed with anger, but when she spoke, her tone was cold. "Do 
not overstep your authority, Brother. You may be the only surviving male member 
of our line, but that does not give you the right to order me about as though I 
were a soldier under your command!" Turning to face her cousin, she added, 
"Théodred! Say something!"

The Prince looked from one to the other and shook his head. "I will settle this 
matter by sending you to Minas Tirith, where you will be safe. Now that Boromir 
and Eledwhen are wed, your kinfolk can hardly refuse you sanctuary." Éowyn's 
mouth fell open in surprise.

"Eledwhen wed? When did this happen? How do you know? No, wait. There were 
others in the room when I entered. Was it they who brought the news?" Théodred 
nodded, but remained silent. Éowyn looked from him to her brother. When he also 
remained mute, she sighed deeply. "I cannot just pack up and leave King Théoden. 
Who will care for him? If I desert my post, your father would be completely 
under Wormtongue's control. And, too, should you and Éomer be away fighting and 
the King should die, who would hold Edoras safe until one of you returned? Who 
would be left who could stand up to Gríma and keep him from taking the throne? 
Not I, for I shall be in Gondor hiding like a whipped cur! And believe me, 
Cousin, when I say that neither of you would live to return to Edoras once Gríma 
has set up his 'temporary' regime. I shall not go. Neither of you can force me 
to!"

Théodred lifted his head; his eyes were narrowed dangerously. Éowyn took an 
involuntary step backward. "You shall go to the White City," he said. "I command 
it! I am your Prince and future King. You shall not disobey me! Now go and 
prepare for the journey as quickly as possible. You must leave before the sun 
reaches the noon hour."


 
9. Mending FencesTempting Fate 
 
This chapter is divided into two parts. The first brings us to Lorien the day 
before the Fellowship departs. The second part returns to Rohan and resolves the 
question of who will lead the first battle at the Fords of the Isen. 

Part the First: Mending Fences

Boromir stood nervously, unconsciously shifting from one booted foot to the 
other, as he waited to enter Lord Celeborn's study. The Fellowship was leaving 
in the morning and he felt a pressing need to set things right with his in-laws. 
Although he was hoping the Lady Galadriel was not within, he knew he would have 
to face her before his departure. The heavy tapestry that served as a door was 
swept aside abruptly and the Lord of Imladris stood before him. He smiled and 
indicated with a nod that Boromir should enter the study. "Go on. I think you 
will find this meeting has been too long in coming." Boromir started to question 
Elrond, but the Elf already had disappeared down the hallway. The man stared at 
the entrance awhile longer, took a deep breath, moved the tapestry aside and 
entered the study.

Celeborn was standing with his hands clasped behind his back. The heavy drapes 
that served as the western wall of his study had been tied back and he was 
watching the sunset. Boromir cleared his throat softly.

"Join me," Celeborn said, his voice low. "I would appreciate your company." 
Boromir was surprised -- and grateful -- for the invitation. Perhaps this 
meeting would be more pleasant than he'd hoped. He crossed the small space and 
positioned himself directly beside the tall Elven Lord. The two stood together 
for many minutes before Celeborn finally broke the silence. "You and I have 
fought verbally many times since your arrival in the Golden Wood, yet I cannot 
place all the blame upon your shoulders. I, too, must bear a measure of 
responsibility for our estrangement, as must my Lady. However, it is now time 
for us to lay our differences to rest before your departure in the morning." 

There was a deep sadness in Celeborn's eyes, as though he carried the weight of 
Middle-earth upon his shoulders. "Tomorrow you will take the only living 
reminder of our daughter, Elanor, to your city. Eledwhen has chosen to remain 
among mortals and we must all accept her choice. However, I ask -- nay, I beg -- 
you to allow my granddaughter to continue to learn about her Elven heritage. I 
also would be grateful if you would allow her to return to Lorien to visit her 
kin; when it is safer, of course."

It was difficult for Boromir to hide his surprise at the sudden change in 
Celeborn. This most definitely was not the infuriatingly pompous Elven Lord he'd 
come to know and dislike. Eledwhen's grandfather seemed almost painfully human. 
"Why now?" he asked flatly.

The Lord Celeborn cocked his head slightly toward the man and replied, "Come 
again?"

Boromir shifted his position so that he was standing squarely in front of the 
Elf. "I said, why now? You and your wife have shown very little tolerance toward 
me and have done everything within your power to break us apart. So I say again, 
why now do you extend the hand of friendship?"

Celeborn smiled sadly and motioned toward his desk and the chairs about it. 
"Please sit and allow me to serve you our best cordial. You may not feel the 
need for a drink, but I most certainly do." Boromir frowned as he followed the 
Elf. He sensed there was something the Lord of Lorien wanted to say, but that he 
needed the fortification of a drink before he could speak the words aloud. 
Galadriel and Celeborn had fought to keep Eledwhen from him; he did not intend 
to make the parting any easier than the welcoming -- or lack thereof. 

"You and I have been at odds since the day Haldir brought you here. My joy at 
having my granddaughter home was lessened only by the fear I felt because of 
your presence."

Boromir looked startled. "You are afraid of me? I do not understand."

Celeborn sighed and drank deeply from his cup. He held the fiery liquid in his 
mouth for several moments before allowing it to slide slowly down his throat. 
Finally he looked upon the man of Gondor. "I believed that day was the 
beginning, and the end, of our relationship with Eledwhen. You do not know how 
we longed to see her or how frustrating it was to be forbidden to even send her 
letters. Théoden King preferred to keep her Elven blood a secret, just as he hid 
the true identity of his wife. We were not told of her death and so were not 
present when they laid her to rest. Such treatment left me bitter toward mankind 
and so I was willing to do anything to keep my daughter's daughter here, where I 
believe she belongs. Unfortunately, all my scheming and outbursts have only 
succeeded in dividing her loyalties and this plainly is not right. I have told 
Eledwhen she may choose the path her life will follow, and that Galadriel and I 
will love her and support her no matter what her choice."

Boromir blinked rapidly. "That is very sporting of you, my lord. I know how hard 
it must be for you to let her go. I most certainly would find it impossible to 
do so."

A smile brightened Celeborn's face. "I do not believe that I shall lose her, or 
that you will take her from me. I see now how wrong I have been to view you as 
the enemy. Lord Elrond and I have had conversations concerning you and he has 
convinced me of your worth as an ally and a kinsman. It seems he is rather fond 
of you. If you can win a place in his heart, then I can trust you to do what is 
right. I know that I am late in saying this, but welcome to our family, son of 
Gondor."

Boromir stood and extended his hand to the Lord of Dwimordene. "I am honored to 
call you kin. I, too, have been wrong. You and your lady opened your home to me 
and gave me healing when I needed it. My behavior has been abominable and I must 
apologize for it. I hope you can forgive me and that we may part as friends." 
The Lord Celeborn grasped the man's hand firmly.

"I swear that I shall do everything in my power to help you and my 
granddaughter. You make her very happy and for that, I thank you. Now, let us go 
and find the ladies. I believe my wife also has fences to mend."

* * * * * * * * *  

As hard as it had been to humble himself before the Lord of Dwimordene, it was 
even worse admitting to Galadriel that he'd acted like a complete ass. When he 
finished his speech and had eaten at least 20 pounds of humble pie, the Lady of 
Lorien placed her arms about his shoulders and lightly kissed him upon the lips. 
"Welcome to the family, my lord," she'd said in that sultry voice of hers. 
Eledwhen had been ecstatic to find all fences finally mended. She and her 
husband could now take their leave knowing they would be welcome back. Still, 
Boromir had one more person to whom he owed an apology.

The man of Gondor found Aragorn saying his goodbyes to the Lady Arwen. Despite 
her hotheaded declaration that she would accompany the Fellowship if Eledwhen 
did, her father and her future husband had succeeded in changing her mind. The 
lady would be returning home with her father, not following her betrothed. 

Boromir softly cleared his throat, reticent to interrupt their goodbyes. Time 
was pressing, however, and soon they would have to resume their journey. He 
wanted no bad blood between himself and his future king for he, too, had had a 
change of mind. When he returned to Gondor he would throw his complete support 
behind Isildur's heir. It seemed that his love for the Princess of Rohan had 
doused his burning desire to be a king. Because the fates had favored him with 
an amazing wife, he could now be content to accept any role his king offered, no 
matter how menial.

Aragorn and Arwen broke their kiss slowly as both became aware of the man's 
presence. Arwen turned toward him and smiled beguilingly. Aragorn, however, 
frowned and his hand slid unconsciously to his sword hilt. "It is alright, my 
love. The Lord Boromir comes in peace," Arwen purred. Boromir bowed deeply to 
the Elven Lady; when he lifted his head, she was gone. 

"What do you want?" Aragorn asked harshly. "We have had no words since that day 
we fought and you injured the Princess Eledwhen. What have you to say for 
yourself?"

Boromir straightened and met the hardness in Aragorn's eyes. "I say that I was 
wrong to be jealous and resentful of you. I admit that all my life I have 
dreamed of being King of Gondor and so was angry when a legitimate heir suddenly 
dropped out of thin air, as it were. I saw my dreams burn to ashes and you rise 
from those same ashes, the white tree upon your breast and the Star of Earendil 
upon your brow. That is the gift the Lady Arwen brought with her, is it not?"

Aragorn nodded affirmatively, but remained silent. Boromir hesitated, uncertain 
whether or not he should continue. Finally Aragorn whispered, "Go on."

Taking a deep breath, Boromir let his words cleanse his soul and his spirit. It 
felt good to let go of his ambitions and doubts. For as much as he had hungered 
for the throne, he had been torn by doubts of his worthiness to ascend to it. He 
felt reborn as the words tumbled from his lips like flowers scattered during the 
welcoming home of triumphant soldiers.

"I want you to know that I… that I… that I no longer desire to be King of 
Gondor. I wish only to serve you, my liege lord, and earn the right to be your 
Steward." There, he thought, that was not so hard. 

Aragorn gaped at the Steward's heir as though he were Sauron himself. He had 
been prepared to hear many things, but this was surely not one of them. "Are 
you… are you certain of your choice? Are you sober?"

Boromir threw back his head and roared with laughter until tears sprang to his 
eyes and flowed like raindrops down his cheeks. "Oh, aye, my liege. Never in my 
life have I been more sober or more certain of anything. I've learned that there 
are more important things in life than power: the love of a good woman and the 
ability to face oneself in the light of day are at the top of this list. I have 
been childish and selfish, and I beg your forgiveness." The man of Gondor stood 
silently with his head bowed, waiting for Aragorn to either accept his olive 
branch or reject it and him. It was the longest wait of his life.  

"There is nothing to forgive," Aragorn said kindly. "You never should have 
discovered my heritage the way in which you did, blurted out by Legolas in front 
of everyone at Elrond's council. I take the responsibility for that mistake and 
beg your pardon for not telling you myself. I did not because I wanted us to 
become friends. I wanted it not to matter that I was Isildur's heir and, 
therefore, destined to become your king. I feared you would hate me for my 
heritage and that our blossoming friendship would wither before it had time to 
fully bloom. I ask you to shake my hand and say you forgive me."

Boromir's smile reached his eyes as he extended his right hand to his future 
king. He'd always thought his father, the Steward, exuded a certain aura of 
power, but Denethor's magnetism paled when compared to Aragorn's. The two men 
clasped hands tightly and hugged one another warmly. "Let us be as one in 
purpose and in deed," said Aragorn. "Together we shall be unbeatable."

* * * * * * * * *

Eledwhen and Boromir were spending their last night in Caras Galadrim in the 
huge bed in which they'd spent the night of their bonding. They lay unclothed 
and entwined, though neither felt an urgency to make love. Boromir was stroking 
his wife's hair, drawing comfort from the mindless motion. Eledwhen's eyes were 
closed as she reveled in the man's touch. 

"I wish we could remain this way forever," she purred throatily. "It is as 
though we are the only two in the whole of Middle-earth."

Boromir stopped caressing Eledwhen's hair and shifted his body until he could 
see her face. "I believe you would soon tire of only my company."

Eledwhen snuggled against his body and laughed. "Nay, my love. I shall never 
tire of your presence. Here we are safe, and here I wish we could stay. I know 
it is selfish of me to want this, and that you have duties that call you home, 
but I am immeasurably happy and do not want the world to intrude upon that 
happiness."

Boromir frowned. "You are thinking about the vision. I beg you not to. We both 
shall reach Minas Tirith alive and well. When they write songs and stories about 
us -- and they will -- all shall end with the words 'and they lived happily ever 
after.' I believe this with all my heart."

Eledwhen looked lovingly into her husband's face, placed her lips upon his and 
tightened her embrace until his breathing became ragged. Smiling, she pushed him 
onto his back and began the first of several lovemaking sessions that filled 
that last night in the Golden Wood.

Part the Second: Tempting Fate

Éowyn was furious, both angry and mortified by her brother's decree that she 
would be shipped off to Minas Tirith to protect her from Gríma Wormtongue. "I am 
not a child that needs protection," she thought as underwear went flying about 
the room instead of into the trunk she was supposed to be packing. "I can fight 
and ride as well as most men of the Mark. If I leave now, Wormtongue will think 
I am running from him. Nay, this will never do! A shield maiden faces her 
enemies and deals with them openly and cleanly. I will not be thought a coward. 
I will just have to think of a way to avoid being shipped off to Gondor. But how 
to change Théodred's mind?"

A knock on her bedchamber door caused Éowyn to stop her frenzied packing. "Go 
away if you value your life! I want no visitors." The door began to open despite 
her words, so she picked up a cup and threw it. Made from clay, it shattered 
spectacularly as it crashed loudly against the wall beside the door. 

"Good grief, Sister! Are you out of your mind?" Éomer stood in the partially 
open doorway, his eyes wide in amazement at the disarray. "It's not the end of 
the world, 'Wyn." 

Éowyn's eyes blazed in anger. "So say you, for you are not the one being forced 
to leave your homeland for your 'protection.' I do not understand how my brother 
can allow me to be sent to the very city where his cousin was ravished. How safe 
will I be with the Steward? I would prefer to take my chances with Gríma, for I 
know I can hold my own against him."

Éomer shook his head, his expression grim. "You did not do so well against him 
this past evening. It was only by blind chance that you were able to free 
yourself from his embrace. With Faramir and the Prince of Dol Amroth in control 
of Minas Tirith, I doubt the Lord Denethor would do anything so foolish as to 
attack you.  Please, 'Wyn, for my peace of mind. Go to Gondor."

Éowyn stood stiffly. She was torn between love for her brother and her tarnished 
pride. As she opened her mouth to speak, Théodred entered the room. He seemed 
both agitated and elated at the same time. "I have good news and bad news. Which 
would you like to hear first?" Éowyn shook her head.

"I should like to hear that I do not have to go to the White City." 

Her cousin threw back his head and roared with laughter. "That is the good news. 
You no longer have to leave Edoras. Wormtongue has left! I've just heard news 
that he packed his bags and rode out shortly after you came to my chambers. Hama 
had one of his men follow Gríma to see which way he went. It seems he is off to 
Isengard and his beloved wizard. We are free of his foul presence!"

Éowyn gave an excited shout and threw herself into Théodred's arms. "I can 
scarce believe it! Are we truly free of the Worm's company? This is the best 
news I've heard in a long time. We must inform Théoden King." Éowyn began to 
move toward the door, but her cousin blocked her.

"You have not yet heard the bad news. I must lead a large host of warriors to 
the Fords of the Isen, where Saruman's minions are massing. If they are not 
stopped from entering Rohan, they will slaughter our people."

Éomer and Éowyn spoke at the same time. "No! You must not lead this battle!"

The Prince looked slightly pale, yet his voice was strong when he spoke. "I will 
not shirk my duty because of a tale told by an Elf! I must leave tomorrow."

Éowyn felt as though events were spiraling beyond her control. Somehow she must 
keep the Prince at home. "No, you dare not tempt fate. Éomer, talk to him!"

Her brother sighed. "We have had this conversation before. I can see by the set 
of his jaw that Théodred will not miss this battle, though it might well be his 
last."

The Prince tried a smile, but it came out a sickly grimace. "Come now. I will be 
fine and when I return, we shall all have a laugh over our foolishness. Éomer, 
please attend me. While I am gone, you must watch over Father and see that 
nothing untoward happens in Edoras."

Éomer looked quite taken aback. "But surely I shall be at your side in battle? 
You cannot order me to remain at home, not when I may be able to save your 
life!"

"I have made up my mind. You and Éowyn will keep the city safe until I return. 
Watch over Father and make certain he comes to no harm. Though Wormtongue is 
gone, his men remain. I do not know what orders he may have given. Éomer, do 
this for me. It is important."

The younger man looked beseechingly at his Prince and cousin, but Théodred 
remained resolute. Éomer finally agreed to Théodred's wishes. "If you must do 
this, at least take Grimbold and Elfhelm. They are good men and will watch your 
back."

The Prince grinned rakishly. "I would never leave home without them."

~~~


Chapter 10
 

I was going to start the Fellowship's journey from Lothlorien to Amon Hen, but a 
reader reminded me about Minas Tirith. This chapter takes us back to the White 
City. 

The Return of the Steward

Denethor hated being forced to have his edicts approved by his son, Faramir, and 
the Prince of Dol Amroth. But even more than that, he hated the smug looks shot 
his way when Council members thought he wasn't looking. They may be able to 
gloat now, but soon I shall again be cloaked in the mantle of the Stewardship 
and they will be very sorry they backed the wrong horse. If it takes the rest of 
my life, I shall see that all who voted to take power from my hands pay 
handsomely for their disloyalty.

Denethor was staring out the window of his once secret room under the summit of 
the White Tower of Ecthelion. Although entrance to the room was strictly 
forbidden, Denethor had bribed a guard to look the other way so he could gain 
access. Part of him had hoped the palantir would not be in its usual place atop 
its pedestal in the middle of the room; his darker side had prayed that it would 
be. Now the Lord Denethor felt its pulsing power calling to him like a siren. 
Why did I come and for what purpose? Even though he asked the questions, he knew 
the answers. The ability to see what others could not, to be able to keep an eye 
on anyone, anywhere in Middle-earth, was too intoxicating a power to resist. 
When Imrahil and Faramir had convinced Denethor of the danger he'd put himself 
and Gondor in by using the Seeing-stone, he'd sworn never to use it again. Now, 
here he was again, hooked like a fish. 

I only want to see where my son, Boromir, is. We have had no word for months. 
For all any of us know he is dead. What would be the harm if, just this once, I 
used the palantir for the benefit of my country? Would not the knowledge of my 
heir's safety lift the people's spirits and their hopes? 

Denethor argued with himself for more than two hours before his rational side 
finally won the debate. He had given his word and he'd be damned if he'd take it 
back. Denethor walked with a heavy tread to the door, pausing only once to risk 
a glance at the object that had driven him to madness and cost his Stewardship. 
He took a deep, shuddering breath, opened the door and left. The Seeing-stone 
remained beneath its shroud, untouched.   

* * * * * * * * *

"What do you see, Nephew?" Imrahil had entered the gardens of the Houses of 
Healing, where he found Faramir standing motionless, staring eastward.

"It is not what I see, but what I hear," Faramir replied. 

"Then tell me what you hear." The Prince of Dol Amroth was smiling indulgently 
at his nephew, who seemed distracted and rather depressed. The Citadel Guards 
reported that the Acting Steward's visits to the gardens were becoming more 
frequent. Imrahil suspected it was because Faramir was unhappy with his current 
situation. Not that he was surprised, for the Lord Denethor hounded his younger 
son relentlessly, driving him as furiously as he drove himself. Faramir had not 
had a moment's peace since his father had been carried to the Houses of Healing 
after losing a fight with the Dark Lord.

"I hear the faint echoes of footsteps… footsteps of the enemy. They are not here 
yet, but soon they will be."

Imrahil's smile disappeared and was replaced by a scowl. "Have you had a 
vision?" Faramir shook his head.

"Nay, Uncle, I have not. But a shadow grows in my mind and fear clutches at my 
heart. I feel that our end is at hand." As Imrahil looked about the garden, he 
found it difficult to believe that darkness would soon destroy its beauty. 
Thanks to careful tending, this place was alive with flowers and greenery, even 
in the winter. "Is there something specific that you wanted, Uncle? Or are you 
simply taking your daily tour of the upper circles?"

The Prince laughed, the sound out of place in the silence surrounding them. "I 
came to find you. The Lord Denethor commands our presence."

Faramir gave the other man a quick, suspicious look. "Know you why?"

Imrahil shook his head in the negative. "You know your father better than 
anyone, save the Lord Boromir. Denethor certainly would not impart such 
information to a mere page. I perceive that you fear some new gambit on his part 
to regain the Stewardship." Glancing about quickly, the Prince of Dol Amroth 
stepped closer to his nephew. "The page swears he saw Denethor exiting the 
Tower."

Faramir looked stunned. "Surely he was not…" The Acting Steward's voice trailed 
off as he realized the danger in which his father may have placed himself and 
the White City. Imrahil finished the younger man's sentence.

"Using the palantir? I know not, but I pray to the Valar that he did not. Come, 
let us return to the Citadel and see what your father has been up to. If he has 
come under the Dark Lord's spell again, I personally will cast him into the 
dungeons and see that he stays there. With your permission, of course, my 
Steward."

Faramir offered a sick smile at his uncle's weak jest. "I hope it will not come 
to that," he whispered.

* * * * * * * * *

The Lord Denethor was sitting behind the desk in his study. It felt right. This 
is where I belong, he thought. I am the rightful Steward. The sound of a knock 
on the study door interrupted his thoughts. Immediately he straightened in the 
chair and arranged his face into a neutral mask. "You may enter," he said.

The door opened and Imrahil and Faramir strode across the threshold. Denethor 
mentally noted that both looked decidedly uncomfortable. The guard he'd bribed 
would be orc fodder if he'd told about Denethor's trip to the Tower, he thought 
dourly. Aloud, he said, "Come in and sit down. There is something I wish to 
discuss with you both."

Prince Imrahil couldn't help but notice his brother-in-law's position behind the 
desk. Denethor had not sat in the Steward's chair since his "illness," when 
Faramir had been handed temporary reins of power. Imrahil's stomach clenched at 
what the seating arrangements might mean. Denethor stared stonily at both men, 
trying to read what they were thinking; they maintained blank expressions, 
however, and Denethor sighed mentally. Might as well get on with it, he thought.

"There are reports that many thousands of orcs and men are massing in Mordor. It 
appears that the Dark Lord is almost ready to unleash war against us. I'd hoped 
that by now my elder son would have returned with the answer to that cursed 
riddle, and that the answer would be some great weapon that would overcome the 
darkness. Alas that there has been no word from him." Denethor scrutinized his 
younger son closely. He appeared not to be listening. The Steward was about to 
chastise his son when the man turned as pale as the White Tower. "Captain 
Faramir, is something wrong? You look… peculiar."

Faramir could no longer see his uncle and his father. He was surrounded by the 
blackness that always heralded the onslaught of one of his visions. Dimly he 
heard his brother's voice. "Why should we not think that the Great Ring has come 
into our hands to serve us in the very hour of need? Wielding it, the Free Lords 
of the Free may surely defeat the Enemy. That is what he most fears, I deem." As 
the darkness began to waver, Faramir could see Boromir arguing passionately. 
Mithrandir and beings Faramir had never seen before surrounded him.

"The Men of Gondor are valiant and they will never submit; but they may be 
beaten down. Valour needs first strength, and then a weapon. Let the Ring be 
your weapon, if it has such power as you say. Take it and go forth to victory!" 
Faramir was confused. Although his brother spoke the words, Faramir did not 
understand their meaning. Ring? What Ring is this that can be used as a weapon? 
Faramir reached out to his brother, desperately wanting to speak with him, but 
his vision faded. Gradually he became aware of the desperate call of a horn. The 
darkness once again lifted and he saw Boromir standing in a little glade 
surrounded by an army of orcs and Uruks. Behind his brother huddled two 
diminutive and very frightened beings that Faramir recognized from the first 
part of his vision. "Boromir," he shouted. "Brother, no!" He watched Gondor's 
Captain-General slay orc after orc, stopping only to put the Horn of Gondor to 
his lips and blow deep-throated calls for help. A terrible cry tore from deep 
inside Faramir's guts as he watched the first orc arrow strike Boromir's body, 
throwing him backward against a large tree. The arrow was followed by many more. 
As the vision faded, Faramir thought he heard a faint scream echoing his own. 

"Faramir! What do you see? What is it, boy?" Prince Imrahil was kneeling in 
front of his nephew's chair; Denethor was standing behind his desk, his hands 
balled into tight fists. Faramir began to murmur words that were too low to be 
understood clearly. Denethor, however, thought he heard the words "power," 
"victory" and "weapon." Hope surged within his breast as he rushed to his son's 
side. 

"Faramir, my son," he said softly. "Tell me what you see. Is it our victory of 
which you speak?" Imrahil glanced sharply at the older man before turning his 
attention back to his nephew.

"Let the Ring be your weapon." Faramir's words were slurred, yet Denethor was 
able to decipher them. 

"What ring, son?" he pressed.

"Boromir, Council, Imladris…" As the words tumbled from Faramir's lips, a light 
sweat broke out upon Denethor's brow. He began to shake slightly, unable to 
control his rising excitement. Pushing Imrahil aside, the Steward gripped hold 
of his son's shoulders.

"Tell me what you see! Is it your brother? Has Boromir found some great weapon 
that will defeat the Enemy? Speak, son. I must know!"

Imrahil's sharp words rang loudly within the small study. "Let him go, Denethor! 
Do not interfere with the vision. Can't you see that he is in pain?"

Denethor's response was a low, feral growl. "Leave us! You are no longer welcome 
here. Return to Dol Amroth and meddle no more in my affairs. My city and I no 
longer need your help."

The Prince's temper flared and he glared at Denethor. "You no longer have the 
authority to order me from the city. I have as much control as do you. I say to 
let the lad alone until this vision, or whatever it is, releases him. To do 
otherwise is to risk him harm."

Denethor straightened up so quickly that his shoulder hit Imrahil, shoving him 
backward. The Prince of Dol Amroth lost control of his temper and began shouting 
at his brother-in-law who, in turn, began hurling invectives. Faramir shook free 
of the vision to find that he was in the midst of verbal warfare. He was half 
way out of his chair when he was assailed by a debilitating headache. Clutching 
his head, Faramir returned to his seat and whispered, "Father, Uncle, please 
stop fighting. For a moment, I thought I was in a tavern."  

Both elder statesmen ceased debating about who was the biggest ass in Gondor and 
stared at Faramir. Denethor gave Imrahil a scathing look before moving to his 
son's side. He took Faramir's hand and slowly sank to one knee. "Are you 
alright, son? You gave me quite a fright." Faramir's only answer was a soft 
groan. Keeping his voice low, Denethor said, "Unless I am mistaken, you had a 
vision. I ask that you tell me what you saw, for you mentioned your brother's 
name."

Faramir looked confused. "Did I? I'm sorry, Father, but I cannot remember."

Denethor fought hard to keep his temper in check while searching his memory for 
how Finduilas had handled her youngest after a frightening vision. The Steward 
wanted information but knew instinctively that intimidation was not the means to 
use in this circumstance. It was this keen intuition that kept his subjects in 
awe of him, and the reason many were convinced he was gifted with the sight. 

"Perhaps Faramir needs a little air, Denethor. It is very warm in here." 
Imrahil's eyes were narrowed and as hard as flint. Unruffled, Denethor waved the 
Prince away.

"I believe I ordered you to leave my city. You are relieved of all duties and 
responsibilities. I suggest you return to Dol Amroth and look after your own 
subjects." Faramir's head was now clear enough for him to understand what the 
two men had been fighting about earlier. He struggled to rise, but his father 
pressed him back into the chair with a firm hand. "You must rest, my son. When 
you are fully recovered, you can report the substance of your vision."

Faramir looked incredulous. Only once before had the Lord Denethor paid any 
attention to his visions, and that was the one that sent Boromir to Imladris. 
Belatedly he realized what his father had said to Prince Imrahil. "Father, you 
cannot order Uncle Imrahil from the city. Only the Council has that power, and 
only after rescinding the order that put the three of us at Gondor's helm."

Denethor stood up and crossed his arms. "I am myself once more and in complete 
control of my actions. I no longer need nurse maids!"

Imrahil and Faramir exchanged a look that caused Denethor to move to his chair 
at the desk, putting space between them. He was now certain they knew of his 
visit to the Tower. The Prince spoke first. 

"You broke your vow never to use the palantir again," Imrahil said icily. "You 
were seen leaving the Tower little more than an hour ago. What have you to say 
for yourself?"

Denethor was furious. No one had spoken to him like this since the death of his 
father, Ecthelion II. "I do not have to answer your questions, but I order you 
to tell me who made such an accusation against Gondor's Steward!"

Faramir decided it was time to enter the fray. "Father, you were seen leaving 
the Tower. You have had no business there since the day you were taken to the 
Houses of Healing. I must know if you used the Seeing-stone."

The three men stood rigidly, each attempting to stare down the other. Denethor 
finally broke eye contact and sighed. "No, I did not. I thought to, but only to 
find my heir and see if he is safe. However, in the end, I feared to take the 
risk. There, are you both satisfied?"

Imrahil relaxed and managed a smile. "I perceive that you are telling the 
truth." Irritated by the insinuation that he might have lied, Denethor scowled 
and started to speak, but the Prince held up a hand. "Now hear me out, Denethor. 
I have been waiting for a sign that you are well enough to resume your duties as 
Steward without your 'nurse maids.' I am needed at home. Black ships of the 
Corsairs have been seen near our coastline and I fear they may be planning an 
attack. I wish to call an emergency meeting of the Council so that your fitness 
to rule can be assessed. Faramir, you are Acting Steward, what say you?"

Faramir smiled broadly. "That I will be overjoyed to return my father's office 
to him. I shall order that messengers be sent out immediately. Most of the 
council members remain within the White City; we may have a quorum readily 
available. I shall be glad to step down, Father, for I feel I have been too long 
away from Ithilien and my Rangers."

Denethor nodded. "Let us get this over as quickly as possible. We have war 
strategy to prepare. Imrahil, if you will see that the members of the Council 
are summoned to appear tomorrow morn, I will question my son about what he saw 
earlier." Imrahil nodded and departed the study without a backward glance. As 
soon as the door shut, Denethor returned to his son's side. "Now, for the sake 
of our country, tell me what you saw."

Faramir attempted to recall all that he had seen and heard during his vision, 
although he kept the battle in the glade to himself. Denethor's eyes burned like 
two pieces of coal as Faramir spoke the words concerning the ring. "What think 
you, son? Is this the answer to the riddle?  Has Boromir found a weapon that 
will destroy the Enemy?"

Faramir sighed deeply. "I cannot say, sir. It is possible that this was not a 
true vision. We will not know until my brother returns and speaks for himself."

Denethor's face became flushed and he turned toward the fire. He began to speak 
more to himself than to Faramir, who had to strain to hear his father's words. 
"I must find my son and this Ring of Power. Gondor must not fall. I will send 
men to look for Boromir. He must be brought home with all haste." Faramir 
cleared his throat loudly. He was beginning to regret his decision to step down 
as Acting Steward.

"My Lord, are you alright? You are… muttering." Denethor's head snapped upward 
and he fixed a disdainful gaze upon his younger son. 

"I was planning how to save Gondor, which is something you have been unable to 
do. Once I am in command again, I shall order your return to your command in 
Ithilien and then organize a party to search for Boromir. He cannot be very far 
from home after so many months. Even if he brings no great weapon, his presence 
will be enough to put hope back into the people's hearts."

Faramir felt the familiar knife twist deeply into his guts. No matter how many 
times his father insulted him or dismissed his contributions to Gondor, Faramir 
always ached with a longing to hear his father speak of him as proudly as he 
spoke of Boromir. As bile rose in his throat, burning like acid, Faramir lost 
control and finally said the words he had promised himself never to speak. "And 
what about you, Father? What hope do you hold for a happy reunion with your 
heir? Surely you remember the Princess Eledwhen. It is most likely she has told 
Boromir all that took place the night she left Minas Tirith. What will you say 
to your eldest son and heir when he charges you with such a despicable crime?"

Faramir thought he detected a slight pallor beneath his father's ruddy 
complexion. There followed a deathly silence, broken only by the hard breathing 
of both men. "I shall ask for my son's forgiveness," Denethor said finally. "He 
will understand why I acted the way I did and he will forgive me. Unlike you, 
Boromir understands his duty clearly. He will not jeopardize Gondor by holding a 
grudge."

Faramir actually sputtered in surprise. "A grudge you say? You think my brother 
holds only a grudge against you for ravishing his betrothed? If I know Boromir, 
he will want revenge." When he finally answered, Denethor's speech was slow and 
thoughtful.

"Aye, he will want revenge, but he will not seek it. His blood will boil from 
the heat of his rage and we two shall exchange hateful words, but only words. 
There will be no blood spilt. Once all has been said, he will apologize and once 
more swear his fealty to me. I say again that your brother knows where his duty 
lies, and it does not lie between the silken thighs of a young girl!"

Denethor's words made Faramir feel sick to his stomach. First he felt like 
retching; then a wave of anger caused him to lose control of his temper. Angry 
beyond words, Faramir hurled himself toward Denethor bent on pummeling the 
self-satisfied smirk off his father's face. Although Ecthelion's son was in his 
late 80s, he could still take care of himself. The look in his son's eyes 
alerted him to the oncoming attack and he was prepared. Faramir was handicapped 
by his emotions and by his subconscious desire not to harm his father; it was, 
therefore, easy for Denethor to deflect his son's blow and shove him into the 
wall. Faramir's head made a loud thud as it impacted and he heard ringing in his 
ears mingled with his father's laughter.

"Laugh, Father, while you may. I swear that if you survive the coming war, you 
definitely will not like the consequences of your actions against the Princess 
of Rohan. I know my brother well. He will never forgive you. And neither shall 
I. You may delude yourself that it was not your fault if it makes you feel 
better; it will, however, do nothing to stop Boromir from hating you, or stop 
Prince Theodred's retribution."

"I do not fear Theoden's sapling," Denethor whispered hoarsely. "I will put 
everything right once we have won the war. And win the war we shall, for my heir 
will return with a great weapon. Gondor's might will be restored and, after 
that, her splendor. I must believe this or go mad." Faramir looked upon his 
father with a mixture of pity and disgust. There were no words left within him 
so he walked to the door, opened it and departed in silence. For once, Denethor 
did not chastise him for leaving without permission.

   

Chapter 11 Farewells 
 

The answer to the question, "which of our two heroes dies," (if either) will 
soon be revealed.  In this chapter we begin with The Fellowship leaving 
Lothlorien, then switch to Rohan as the Prince leaves Edoras for the First 
Battle at the Fords of the Isen. I switch from events in Lorien to events in 
Rohan, and then back again to Lorien. Each switch will be labeled "Rohan" and 
"Lothlorien." (A few of the paragraphs are taken word for word from "The 
Fellowship of the Ring." I felt they added some "reality" to my story.)  Because 
Prince Théodred died the day before Boromir, I am showing readers what happens 
in both places at about the same time. I hope to make this and the next chapter 
as tense and as gripping as I can.   

I do not own any of these characters (except Eledwhen) and I am making no money 
off this story. I include this disclaimer just in case Tolkien's heirs are 
concerned they may get cheated out of a penny or two.

Farewells

 

(Lothlorien, February 16, dawn)

"Eledwhen, it is time to leave."

The Lord Celeborn stood in the entrance to the room that Eledwhen and Boromir 
had shared while in the Golden Wood. The Princess of Rohan was standing at the 
edge of the wide flet on the fifth level of the home that Celeborn and his wife, 
Galadriel, had built. She was watching the sunrise.

"Isn't this the most beautiful sunrise you have ever seen, Grandfather?" 
Celeborn moved into the room. 

"Eledwhen, did you hear me? The members of the Fellowship have almost finished 
packing the boats." Eledwhen turned to face her grandfather; he was surprised to 
see tears streaming down her pale cheeks. "There is no reason to cry, my dear. I 
am certain we will see one another again; I only pray that it will be in happier 
times."

The Princess choked back a sob. "I can see no happy times ahead, Grandfather. 
All I can see is death -- the death of my brother and the death of my husband. 
Have you heard from Haldir? Has he returned with news of Théodred?" The Lord 
Celeborn's eyes twinkled and Eledwhen knew that Haldir and his brother had 
completed their mission. "I want to see Haldir before we depart. Where is he?"

A lyrical voice announced the presence of the March Warden. "I am here, 
Princess. My brother and I returned only a few hours ago."

Eledwhen looked from Haldir to her grandfather and back. "A few hours ago? Why 
did you not come to me immediately? I must know what my brother said when you 
told him of my vision." Haldir looked at Celeborn, raising one delicate eyebrow 
as he did so. The Princess became angry. "Why do you look to Grandfather for 
permission to tell me about an errand I sent you on?"

"Because I rule here, my dear, and Haldir did not have my permission to abandon 
his post and ride to Rohan. You are very young and used to having your way in 
most things. I can see that Théoden King has spoiled you terribly. I am not 
saying he was wrong to indulge the child of his golden years, but you must learn 
responsibility, as must Haldir. You may be young and still relatively innocent, 
but my March Warden is neither. That he chose to obey your wishes shows a 
considerable lack of good sense and devotion to duty. That he has come to love 
you is not a viable excuse."

Eledwhen turned her gaze upon Haldir, her deep blue eyes wide with surprise. 
"Haldir, I did not know. I am deeply sorry if I have done something to lead you 
to believe that I have feelings other than friendship for you."

Haldir's smile was sad as he replied, "I know this, Princess. Your heart belongs 
to the Lord Boromir. I never meant to fall in love with you, but I have and that 
is my burden to bear. But surely there is nothing wrong in loving someone who is 
kind and gentle, and who is willing to sacrifice herself for those she loves?"

"No," answered Celeborn. "There is nothing wrong in that. However, as March 
Warden of the Golden Wood, it was wrong of you to abandon your duty to your land 
and depart without permission. Did you believe I would not find out that you 
stole my horse? And how in Middle-earth did Orophin have the cheek to take the 
horse belonging to the Lord of Imladris? Tell your brother to stay out of 
Elrond's sight!”

Haldir shuffled his feet nervously. "I am willing to take whatever punishment 
you deem fit for myself and my brother. Orophin would not allow me to undertake 
the journey alone. I ask that you not punish him. I am solely to blame."

The Lord Celeborn smiled ruefully. "Orophin is old enough to make his own 
decisions. I doubt you could force him to do something against his will." The 
Elven Lord's smile faded and he sighed heavily. "My granddaughter and I must 
join the Fellowship. They are chafing to be off, so tell Eledwhen about her 
brother and be quick about it."  After giving Haldir a stern look, the Lord of 
Dwimordene exited the room. Eledwhen rushed to her friend and grasped one of his 
arms.

"Did you speak to Théodred? What did he say? Will he stay away from the Fords of 
the Isen?" Haldir looked deeply into her haunted eyes, ran a slightly trembling 
hand through his long blonde locks and cleared his throat. 

"I spoke to your brother and to your cousin, Éomer. The latter believed nothing 
of my story and neither did your brother -- at first. However, he has some sight 
himself, for I believe he saw something of his death in the flames of the fire 
in his room."

Eledwhen tightened her grip upon the Elf. "Will he go to battle at the Fords?"

"Yes, Princess, he will. There is no stopping the Prince of Rohan from carrying 
out his duty to the realm, even should it mean certain death. You must cling to 
the hope that this was one vision that shall not see fruition. You said yourself 
that not all your visions are true."

Eledwhen shook her head dejectedly. "I have no hope. Someone I love dearly will 
die and there is nothing I can do but wait and watch. I thank you, Haldir, for 
undertaking the journey. I know it means that Grandfather will punish you for 
it."

Haldir placed a hand over the one she kept on his arm. "I would not worry overly 
much about that. The Lord Celeborn is a fair ruler and I doubt I shall be boiled 
in oil, although he certainly grilled me upon my return." He saw Eledwhen's 
shocked expression and added quickly, "He would not physically harm me for an 
act of sheer stupidity. I merely jest. I do not want you worrying about my fate 
when you have so much already to worry about. I would not add to your burdens."

Eledwhen studied his face thoughtfully. Slowly she moved closer to the tall wood 
Elf, stood upon the tip of her toes, and gently kissed him. Haldir returned the 
soft pressure of her lips upon his but kept his hands to his sides. Visions of 
what their life together could be swept through his mind for the few brief 
seconds that their lips remained pressed together. When she pulled away, the 
visions vanished like wisps of smoke on the early spring breeze. Reluctantly, 
Haldir opened his eyes. The Princess of Rohan was gone.

(Rohan, February 16, dawn)

Théodred and his eored had assembled at the main gates of the city of Edoras. He 
was eager to depart, but would not do so without saying goodbye to his cousins. 
Since the Elves' visit his sleep had been plagued with visions of a horrific 
battle. Éomer had been relentless in his campaign to wear the Prince down and 
convince him not to lead the fight at the Fords; Théodred, however, remained 
unmovable. 

The Prince saw a flash of white among the city's wellwishers and knew it had to 
be Éowyn. She was the only one who wore white; the peasants wore clothes made of 
brown sackcloth. Only one nobly born would wear white within the city walls; 
servants had time to clean the mud from clothes on a daily basis; peasants did 
not. Nor were they able to afford the material to make such frocks. Théodred had 
to admit that Éowyn looked dazzling in the pink glow of the rising sun. Beside 
her walked Éomer, Third Marshal of the Mark. His expression would have been more 
appropriate at a funeral.

"Hail, cousins! I feared you would not come to see me off. You are late!" The 
Prince could not help but notice how pale Éowyn was, or how dark was the scowl 
upon Éomer's face. "Come, come now. It is not as bad as all that. We shall rid 
the Mark of these vermin and return within the week. Now, Éowyn, give me a 
smile. I'll have no grim faces sending us off to battle."

The White Lady of Rohan managed to produce a weak smile, but her brother did 
nothing to remove the grim look on his face. "I still say you should not go on 
this mission. Let me lead the men into battle. Remain in Edoras, where your 
father and your people need you."

Prince Théodred shook his head. "You and Éowyn shall take care of the people and 
my father, the King. I charge you with the protection of both. Do not fail me!" 
With those final words, Théodred turned his warhorse, Brego, toward the gates 
and gave the signal to depart. Éowyn clasped both hands to her breast and prayed 
to whatever God had the power to keep her cousin safe. Éomer placed an arm about 
her trembling body and pulled her against him. 

"Be at peace, Sister. His fate is no longer in our hands."

(Lothlorien, February 16, mid-morning)

The members of the Fellowship were sitting upon the grass listening to the Lady 
Galadriel play the harp and sing a song of leaving. The Lady Arwen sat beside 
Aragorn; her father was standing a few feet away, deep in thought. Galadriel 
smiled warmly at the newcomers. "Here is the last member of the party and my 
granddaughter," Galadriel said. "I charge you to take as much care with her as 
you do the One, though I would not have you risk one for the other." 

Boromir stood and walked over to his wife. She was pale. "I was afraid you had 
changed your mind about coming," he said softly. 

"I wish she would." Boromir turned to see who had spoken and saw Aragorn 
standing beside the Lord Celeborn. "I cannot order you to leave the Lady 
Eledwhen behind, but I beg you to reconsider. Our journey will be fraught with 
much danger and we will do well to keep the One from the hands of the Enemy. 
Remember that you have sworn to protect the members of the Fellowship and to aid 
our quest."

Boromir frowned. "Can a man not do both? Can I not protect my wife and still 
remain faithful to my oath?"

Aragorn sighed. "I fear it will come to a choice between the safety of the 
Princess and the safety of the ring-bearer. How would you choose? How could 
anyone ask you to choose?" Boromir dug the heel of a boot into the earth, but 
stopped when he saw Galadriel's disapproving stare. He looked at Eledwhen as 
though asking her for guidance in the matter.

"I shall go. You may order me to stay behind, but I will follow you. We have 
debated this subject nigh to death. It is settled." The Princess looked 
challengingly at Aragorn, as though daring him to forbid her to go. 

"Then you come at your own risk," said Aragorn sternly. "The members of the 
Fellowship are sworn to protect the ring-bearer. Do not expect them to save you 
and leave Frodo and the great weight he bears to the Enemy."

Eledwhen lifted her chin proudly and said defiantly, "I can take care of myself. 
Do not trouble yourself with my safety. I wish only to remain by my husband's 
side. I shall not be a burden."

Aragorn studied her closely. "Let us hope so," he said so softly she almost did 
not hear the words.

Arwen stood and took hold of one of her future husband's arms. She looked into 
his eyes hopefully. "I will come and look after the Princess. It is not too late 
for me to make ready." Both Elrond and Aragorn answered "No" at the same time. 
They exchanged a brief smile. "Alright, I will not go along on your precious 
quest! Yet there may come a time when you are sorry I am not there to help." 
Arwen was both angry and sad; she hastily turned away from those gathered to 
hide her tears. Aragorn reached out for her but she was gone. 

"Leave her be for now," Galadriel said gently. "I wish she had never come. The 
second parting is always the hardest." Elrond lowered his head as the Lady's 
gaze fell upon him. He could feel a slight rebuke directed toward him. She had 
not been pleased that her Imladris granddaughter had risked her life merely to 
have a few more days with her beloved. The Lord Elrond, however, adored his 
daughter and could not bear to see her in pain. He had finally given in to her 
demands to travel to Lothlorien. Although Arwen had used the giving of the 
Elfstone as the reason, Elrond knew this was nothing more than a thin excuse.   

Pippin's squeal of delight broke into the silence that had fallen over the 
company after Arwen's departure. Boromir looked to see what had elicited such a 
noise and noticed many Elves walking toward their group. Each bore a plate 
filled with food. "Here we will partake our final meal together," intoned 
Celeborn. "Then we will all share the cup of farewell. Sit and enjoy the fruits 
of our labors."

The four Hobbits did not sit, but kept hopping from foot to foot in excitement. 
They had missed second breakfast and been depressed by thought of the weeks 
ahead with little to eat. Now a feast fit for a king had appeared as though by 
magic and they had no intention of leaving without full bellies.

* * * * * * * * * 

While they ate, Boromir explained Aragorn's reference to "the One" and their 
mission. Eledwhen had never asked the purpose of the Fellowship because she knew 
the subject upset her husband. Now it was imperative she know everything. The 
knowledge, however, did nothing to ease her feelings of apprehension. 

After they had eaten and drank to their hearts' content, Celeborn spoke to them 
again of their journey. He stopped at one point and lifted a hand to point south 
to the woods beyond the Tongue.

"As you go down the water," he said, "you will find that the trees will fail and 
you will come to a barren country. There the River flows in stony vales amid 
high moors until at last it comes to the tall island of the Tindrock, that we 
call Tol Brandir. There it casts its arms about the steep shores of the isle and 
falls then with a great noise and smoke over the cataracts of Rauros down into 
the Nindalf, the Wetwang as it is called in your tongue. That is a wide region 
of sluggish fen where the stream becomes tortuous and much divided. There the 
Entwash flows in by many mouths from the Forest of Fangorn in the west. About 
that stream, on this side of the Great River, lies Rohan. On the further side 
are the bleak hills of the Emyn Muil." He stopped speaking and held each member 
of the Fellowship with his probing gaze.

"Boromir and any that go with him seeking Minas Tirith will do well to leave the 
Great River above Rauros and cross the Entwash before it finds the marshes. Yet 
they should not go too far up that stream, nor risk becoming entangled in the 
Forest of Fangorn."

Boromir squared his shoulders and declared, "I have no fear of that forest. What 
I have heard of it seems to me, for the most part, old wives' tales such as we 
tell to our children. And even were it dangerous, still would I brave entering 
it if to do so meant reaching Minas Tirith all the sooner. I do not much doubt 
that I shall find a way through Rohan and Fangorn, too, if need be." Eledwhen 
gave his hand a tight squeeze. Boromir looked down at her and a lump rose in his 
throat. Surely nothing bad could happen to the Company with his wife along to 
give them hope. His smile became a frown, however, when he remembered the attack 
by the brigands and, later, the party of orcs. Am I making a selfish mistake? 
Valar, please do not let anything happen to my wife. Boromir thought he heard a 
voice in his head say, "If you do not want anything to happen to Eledwhen, then 
leave her behind." Startled, the man looked at Galadriel and saw her bright eyes 
staring back. He shook his head mutely and the Elven Queen turned away from him. 

Galadriel slowly rose from the grass and said, "Now it is time to drink the cup 
of farewell." She offered the parting cup first to the Lord of the Galadrim and 
then passed it to each member of the Fellowship. When all had drunk, even 
Eledwhen, chairs were set for the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. Galadriel's 
maidens stood silently about her and, for a while, the Lady looked upon her 
guests. At last she spoke again.

"I have brought gifts for each of you so that you may remember Lothlorien." Then 
she called to each in turn and gave them gifts that Sam later pronounced 
"magical." To Aragorn, the Lady gave a sheath that had been made to fit his 
sword. He bowed from the waist, thanked Galadriel for her generous gift and 
stole a glance at Arwen, who had just reappeared. She was weeping openly.

The Lady gave a belt of gold to Boromir; to Merry and Pippin she gave small 
silver belts, each with a clasp wrought like a golden flower. To Legolas she 
gave a bow such as the Galadrim use; it was strung with Elf hair and a quiver of 
expertly fletched arrows went with it. To Sam, the gardener, Galadriel gave a 
little box of plain gray wood unadorned save for a single silver rune upon the 
lid -- G for Galadriel. Then, turning to Gimli, she asked, "And what gift would 
a dwarf ask of the Elves?" Gimli stared at his feet and muttered something 
undecipherable. The lady laughed musically, bent, placed the palm of her hand 
beneath the dwarf's chin and raised his head until their eyes met. Boromir could 
swear that the dwarf was blushing. "What gift do you desire, son of Gloin?" she 
asked.

"There is nothing, Lady Galadriel, unless it might be permitted to name a single 
strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass 
the gems of the mine." All the Elves gasped in horror at such an unheard of 
request, but the Lady of the Golden Wood laughed. 

"Never let it be said that the dwarves cannot speak fair," she said, unbraiding 
one of her long tresses and cutting off three golden hairs. She handed them to 
Gimli, who blushed and stammered incoherently. Then she turned to Frodo. In her 
hand was a small crystal phial that glittered as she moved it. Rays of white 
light sprang from her hand.

"In this phial is caught the light of Earendil's star, set amid the waters of my 
fountain. It will shine still brighter when night is about you. May it be a 
light to you in dark places when all other lights go out." Galadriel bent down 
and kissed him upon the top of his head. Frodo blushed to the tips of his ears. 
Gimli looked on jealously, clutching the Lady's locks of hair tightly in his 
hand. Galadriel straightened and said in a clear, loud voice, "The time has now 
come for the Fellowship to depart."

The members of the Company gathered their belongings and walked to the boats. 
The Elven crafts were sturdily built but amazingly light. Boromir settled 
Eledwhen in a boat before taking his place in the bow. Those among the 
Fellowship who had experience with boats would steer; the others would help 
paddle when the need arose. Aragorn, however, doubted they would be called upon 
often, for the current in the Anduin was swift.

The boats were pushed slowly away from the shore and soon the Company could no 
longer see the Lord and Lady of the Galadrim. The Silverlode gradually passed 
out into the currents of the Great River and their boats turned and began to 
speed southward. Eledwhen looked ahead fearfully. She now understood one part of 
her vision. She could feel Boromir's desire to possess the Ring that Frodo 
carried, and she feared this was the impetus behind her husband's attack upon 
the Hobbit during her vision. She knew she would have to be vigilant or this 
growing desire would lead to his death.




Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night

(On the Anduin River)

The past nine days had been long, cold and dreary. Each night they made camp on 
the west bank of the Great River, Anduin. The days they spent staring mindlessly 
at the water and watching for the Enemy on the east bank. Merry and Pippin had 
become sullen and fidgety. Frodo had become withdrawn and morose, while Sam was 
constantly asking Mr. Frodo if he was all right; after a week of hearing the 
question, everyone but Frodo was ready to throw the diminutive gardener into the 
river.

Eledwhen seemed to be the only one among the Company who was grateful for the 
long, uneventful days. The Princess loved listening to Boromir talk about Gondor 
and its people; his passionate description of his beloved Minas Tirith brought 
tears to her eyes. Those days spent floating down the river would have been 
perfect if not for her unease over Boromir's state of mind. The Princess was in 
the middle boat with her husband and the two youngest Hobbits, Merry and Pippin. 
Both seemed ill-at-ease most of the time and Eledwhen was certain this was her 
husband's fault. Boromir began muttering to himself the second day spent on the 
Anduin; sometimes he would sit biting his nails AND muttering, as if some 
restlessness or doubt consumed him.

Eledwhen believed that Boromir's growing desire to possess the Ring was the 
reason for his odd behavior. She had even spoken to Aragorn about her fear for 
her husband's sanity. Although the Ranger was aware of the problem, he had no 
solution for it other than to keep the man and the Hobbit as far apart as 
possible. However, by the fourth day of their trip, Boromir would, at times, 
seize a paddle and drive the boat close behind Aragorn's, peering forward at 
Frodo with a queer gleam in his eye. Each time Boromir did this, the Princess 
felt slightly off-balance, for this was the scene she had witnessed in her 
vision. Eledwhen's greatest fear was that the second portion of her vision would 
be as accurate.    

Now the Company was drifting leisurely with the stream, seemingly in no hurry to 
reach the end of this leg of the journey. Eledwhen sensed that Aragorn allowed 
the slow pace because he dreaded facing the decision that would have to be made 
upon reaching Amon Hen. She had no need to use her Elven powers to deduce this, 
however, because the two men engaged in heated conversations nightly. Boromir 
was set on returning to his homeland, and Aragorn was torn between his promise 
to look after the ring-bearer and his promise to bring his great sword to help 
deliver Gondor from the Enemy. Boromir and Aragorn had, at one point, almost 
come to blows during a "discussion" in which the man of Gondor had insisted that 
the Fellowship accompany him to the White City. The Dunedan had refused the 
offer, (his refusal anything but polite) and Boromir had almost lost control. 
Fortunately for the entire mission, Pippin had taken Boromir's hand and 
convinced the man to tell him more tales about his homeland. Instead of keeping 
Boromir's mind off the Ring, however, talking about Gondor only made things 
worse. The more Boromir reminisced about the land he loved, the more anxious he 
became to possess the one weapon he believed could save it.  

* * * * * * * * *

(On the Anduin River, February 25, dusk)

The sun had just dipped below the horizon when Eledwhen noticed one of the 
Hobbits in the lead boat staring intently at the water. Curious, she scanned the 
river and the banks beyond for whatever had drawn the Hobbit's attention. Then 
she saw what appeared to be a log with eyes! She turned her gaze back to the 
Hobbit, who she remembered was named Sam. He was sitting rigidly in the boat; it 
seemed that he, too, had noticed the strange "log." Eledwhen immediately 
returned her gaze to the object, but it had disappeared. 

"Is something wrong?" Boromir's whisper-soft voice interrupted her reverie. 
Eledwhen whipped her head around until she could see his face.

"I thought I saw… No, it was nothing. When shall we make camp? I am cold and 
damp." Somehow she managed to appear unshaken, at least on the outside.

"And we are hungry as well as cold and damp," declared Merry and Pippin in 
unison. Both Hobbits looked expectantly at Boromir. 

"Don't look at me," Boromir growled. "Aragorn is in charge of this mission." All 
in the boat turned to look at the boat ahead of them; they were grateful to see 
the Ranger signal for the boats to head to a small clearing on the western bank. 

(Rohan, February 25, dusk)

Théodred and several hundred soldiers of The Mark were assembled about two miles 
from the Fords of the Isen. Scouts had reported a large army of orcs camped upon 
the eastern bank, which placed them firmly upon Rohan soil. The Prince had 
seethed at the creatures' boldness.

"It seems as though the orc army will attack shortly, my Prince. Shall I give 
the order to form the shield wall?" Grimbold watched the Second Marshal of the 
Mark closely. He seemed distracted. "My lord, shall I have the men form the 
shield wall?"

Théodred looked at his captain. He had been thinking about Haldir's words 
concerning Eledwhen's vision about his death and had not heard Grimbold's words 
the first time. "Yes," he said resignedly. "Let it begin."

(On the Anduin River, February 25, sometime after nightfall)

Sam was cooking sausages and onions. Everyone had agreed that he should do the 
cooking because he was the only one who made the food palatable. (Eledwhen had 
tried her hand at cooking the first night they'd camped. The result was so 
terribly inedible that Sam had gladly resumed his place as cook. Speaking in her 
defense, Eledwhen had shrugged and said simply, "I was raised to be a Princess, 
not a cook. I suppose this will be my first, and last, effort. I am certain that 
Minas Tirith has many people who prepare meals for the Steward's family." She 
had looked at Boromir for confirmation and he'd answered affectionately, "You 
have other talents, my love.") 

The Hobbits were huddled around the campfire, waiting eagerly for the food to be 
done cooking. Legolas and Gimli sat apart; the Elf sharpened his long knives, 
while the Dwarf sat dozing at his side. They had become quite friendly during 
their stay in the Golden Wood, to the amazement of the entire Fellowship.

"What do you see?" Aragorn had walked up silently behind Boromir, who was 
staring at something in the river.

"I could swear I saw a creature of some sort clinging to that log yonder," 
Boromir whispered. 

"Yes," Aragorn answered, his voice equally low. "It is Gollum. He has been 
following us since Moria. I hoped we would lose him after we entered Lorien, but 
now I fear that he is destined to be our shadow."

Boromir gave the other man a sharp look. "Should we not slay him? Surely Legolas 
could rid us of this Gollum with but one shot from his bow. Let us call him." 
Aragorn gripped Boromir's shoulder roughly and shook his head.

"Nay, Boromir, it is not for us to take his life. Gandalf told me in Moria that 
he believed Gollum has yet some part to play in this quest. It is not for me to 
doubt the wizard's intuitions."

Boromir became angry and assumed a defensive posture. "I doubt the wisdom of 
such folly. This creature may give away our position to the Enemy." Aragorn 
stared sternly at the younger man. 

"Are you questioning my command? I believe that in Lorien you swore to follow me 
and give me your support. Do you now take back your word?" Boromir shook his 
head. 

"Nay, Aragorn, I do not. Yet it angers me that you honor the words of a dead 
wizard over the words of the living Captain-General of Gondor's army. I do not 
see that I am of any use to you."

Aragorn smiled sadly and placed a hand gently upon Boromir's right shoulder. "I 
do value your opinion, but in this matter I must trust to the insight only a 
member of the Maia could have. I would have killed Gollum long ago except for 
Gandalf's desire to keep him alive." 

Eledwhen was standing at the water's edge, listening to the two men's 
conversation. She, too, had seen the water creature. Deciding it was time to end 
the men's debate over Gollum's fate, the Princess walked over to her husband and 
kissed his cheek. "I am hungry. Could we see if those sausages are ready?"

Aragorn gave Eledwhen a smile that clearly said "thank you" before walking over 
to the campfire. Boromir followed the man's movements with his eyes until he 
felt a slight tug upon his over-tunic. He looked down at his wife and smiled. 
"Alright, my dear. Let us eat."

(The Fords of the Isen, February 25, approximately 9 p.m.)

"I fear we cannot hold back their army much longer, my Prince. Should we sound 
the retreat?" Grimbold stood beside Théodred upon a small knoll apart from the 
main site of the battle. Their side had suffered heavy losses and Grimbold and 
Elfhelm feared that their position would soon be overrun. "Prince Théodred, we 
must fall back. It has become too dangerous here."

Théodred looked at Grimbold, his face grim. "I will not leave my men leaderless 
to save my own skin. And neither shall any other man under my command. Stay your 
ground!"

Grimbold and Elfhelm exchanged worried glances. It was not like their Prince to 
be so reckless with his life. It was almost as though he wished for death. 

Théodred refused to retreat because he was determined not to allow his sister's 
vision to determine his actions. He also feared that if he ran for his life now, 
he would never again be able to lead men into battle. And so he turned a deaf 
ear to his captains' warnings and stubbornly held his ground… what little was 
left of it.

(On the Anduin River, February 25, sometime between 9 and 10 p.m.)

Eledwhen had eaten and then promptly turned in for the night. The tension she 
had been feeling the past few days had made her muscles sore; she also suffered 
from mental exhaustion. The Princess had been asleep no more than half-an-hour 
when she began to dream. It was night upon the plains of Rohan. She looked about 
and saw many Rohirrim warriors fighting desperately against overwhelming odds. 
Thousands of orcs and Uruks -- many wearing the symbol of the White Hand -- were 
hurling themselves madly against the Rohirrim shield-wall defense.

On a knoll not far from the battle, but near the Fords of the Isen, stood her 
brother, Théodred. He was watching the battle before him; Grimbold and Elfhelm 
flanked him on either side. Eledwhen watched as the largest of the Uruks began 
attacking her brother's position atop the knoll. The creatures seemed to 
multiply in numbers as the Rohirrim desperately killed them. Even in her dream, 
Eledwhen recognized the elements of the vision she had experienced whilst in the 
Golden Wood. Terrified that her brother would die, she shouted a warning for him 
to flee. She could swear that he had heard her, for he turned his head in the 
direction she was "standing." 

"Théodred, please, leave now or it shall be too late," she sobbed. 

Boromir was sitting beside the fire talking to Aragorn about what the Company 
would do when it reached Amon Hen the next day. He heard Eledwhen moan, then cry 
out in her sleep. He thought he heard her say, "Théodred, please, leave now or 
it shall be too late." Remembering her vision of Théodred's death, Boromir 
jumped up and ran to where she lay tossing and turning. 

"Eledwhen, wake up! You are having a nightmare." By now the rest of the 
Fellowship had gathered close to the couple. Legolas and Aragorn exchanged 
knowing looks. Both were all too familiar with such dreams.  

The Princess continued to shout warnings to her brother. Boromir, fearing that 
such a frightful dream might be harmful to Eledwhen, shook her to awaken her. 
Eledwhen's eyes opened, wide and unseeing. Suddenly she uttered an ear-piercing 
scream. Boromir looked at Aragorn for help. He knew the Ranger had been raised 
among Elves and hoped he would know how to deal with the situation. Aragorn 
moved to where the girl sat, still screaming, and placed a hand upon her 
forehead. She felt as though she was on fire. 

"Legolas, get some water from the river. We must cool her down immediately!" 
Boromir watched helplessly as Aragorn eased Eledwhen down upon the ground and 
spoke to her in an Elvish tongue that the Gondorian did not understand. Legolas 
brought back his newly filled water skein and offered it to the Ranger. "No, 
pour water into your palm and then rub it across her forehead," Aragorn ordered. 
"We must wake her before she burns up from the inside out."

Boromir had never felt so useless or so helpless. He pulled his eyes from his 
wife's body and saw the Hobbits standing huddled together. They looked 
terrified. Boromir walked over to them and gathered them within his long arms. 
"She will be alright," he said more to himself than to the frightened Halflings. 
"You will see. Aragorn knows what to do."



Death Be Not Proud

(Rohan, February 26, shortly before dawn) 

“Like a thousand other commanders on a thousand other battlefields, I wait for 
the dawn.” The Lord Elfhelm surveyed the carnage the night’s work had wrought. 
Dawn was more than an hour away, yet already the sky had begun to lighten in the 
East.

The First Battle at the Fords of the Isen was over. Brave warriors of the Mark 
lay scattered about the battlefield, dead or dying. The orcs had withdrawn as 
quickly as they had attacked, a fact that puzzled all those who remained alive 
and relatively unscathed. The Enemy’s army had been winning; why, then, had it 
withdrawn when victory and the annihilation of its foes were so close at hand?

The battle had been a costly one for the Rohirrim. Not only were many of the 
Mark’s best warriors dead, the battle had deprived the land’s people of their 
beloved Prince.

(Rohan, February 25, approximately 11 p.m.)

Théodred lay dying, his royal blood watering the ground upon which he rested. 
Elfhelm knelt beside his fallen commander, head bowed in sorrow. Captain 
Grimbold sat upon the cold ground, the head of his fallen Prince cradled 
tenderly in his lap. A ring of somber warriors surrounded the trio. Some wept 
openly and unashamedly; others stood stoic and silent, their helms off in a show 
of respect for their dying leader.

Théodred attempted to raise his head, his mouth striving to form words he no 
longer had the strength to utter. He extended one bloodied hand toward Elfhelm, 
who gripped it tightly. 

“Rest, my Prince. The healer will be here soon.” Elfhelm’s voice cracked with 
raw emotion, for he knew that no healer in Middle-earth could mend the 
devastating wounds the orcs had inflicted upon the Second Marshal of the Mark.  
   

Théodred finally managed to speak a few strangled words. “It is too late.” 

Elfhelm raised his shaggy head and said softly, “We shall take you back to 
Edoras. A prince you may be, but you shall be buried as a King.” Théodred shook 
his head almost imperceptivity, a motion that cost him great pain. He cried out 
and tightened his grip on Elfhelm’s hand until he was able to speak.

“Nay, Elfhelm,” the Prince said in a voice so soft that the warrior had to place 
an ear to the dying man’s lips. “Leave me where I lie. I shall remain here until 
Éomer comes. We must hold the Fords. This is my final command.” Elfhelm nodded, 
but it was a motion Théodred did not see through the blackness that enveloped 
him.   

As the Riders of the Mark watched in silence, their Prince drew a last, 
shuddering breath and fell limply into Grimbold’s solid embrace. Théoden’s only 
son was dead.

* * * * * * * * *

(On the bank of the River Anduin, February 25, sometime between 11 p.m. and 
midnight)

Legolas was bathing Princess Eledwhen’s face with water from the Anduin when her 
eyes fluttered open. Her pupils were dilated, as though she had been given an 
opiate derivative. The Prince of Mirkwood knew she did not see him. “Aragorn, 
she has awakened,” he called softly. 

Aragorn was talking with Boromir, who was again attempting to persuade the 
Ranger to proceed with all haste to the White City. The Elf’s quietly spoken 
words ended their discussion before it could become heated. Aragorn moved 
swiftly to Eledwhen’s side and pressed a hand against her brow. He was surprised 
to find it no longer hot to the touch. He looked at the Elf and received only a 
slight shrug in answer to his unspoken question. 

“Is she alright?” Boromir kneeled at Aragorn’s side, deeply troubled because the 
Princess seemed unaware of her surroundings. Aragorn shook his head, at a loss 
to explain her condition. Suddenly her eyes focused and she fixed them upon the 
man of Gondor.   

“My brother is dead,” she said tonelessly. "Saruman has succeeded in killing the 
King's heir, and Grima draws one step closer to the throne he so greedily 
covets."

The two men exchanged worried glances. "Eledwhen, you do not know this for 
certain. Perhaps 'twas no more than a dream." Boromir took hold of an icy cold 
hand and rubbed it gently.

"Do not patronize me, husband," the Princess said sharply. "I know what I know. 
I must return home before the Worm destroys the rest of my family." Eledwhen 
attempted to rise, but Boromir continued to grip her hand, while Aragorn placed 
his hands against her shoulders and gently held her down.

"You cannot return to Edoras without an escort," the Ranger said levelly, "and 
there is no one here we can spare. Boromir will return to Minas Tirith, while 
the rest of the Fellowship goes to Mordor with the Ring-bearer."

The Princess searched Aragorn's face and saw that she would receive no help from 
the Ranger -- not that she had expected any. He had made it perfectly clear in 
Lorien that she was not his responsibility. Slowly Eledwhen turned her gaze upon 
the face of her husband. "Come with me to Edoras. Help me rid the Mark of 
Wormtongue and then we both shall travel to your city. My father's grief over 
the loss of his son will leave him even more vulnerable to Grima's treachery. I 
must go home!"

Boromir was torn between the love of his country and his love for Eledwhen. If 
he took the time to sort out Rohan's troubled affairs, it might mean disaster 
for his own homeland. He already had been gone nearly eight months.

Aragorn was the first to speak. "Let us make no decisions now, for tomorrow we 
will reach Parth Galen. It is there, above the Falls of Rauros, we must choose 
our paths. I suggest we all take what rest we may for now."

Eledwhen shook her head. She was clearly agitated. "I will not rest until I see 
my father and my country safe. And Éowyn… if Éomer is not at Edoras, she is in 
danger, for Grima desires her as much as he does the throne. Please, Boromir, we 
must not tarry."

The man of Gondor frowned. "Aragorn is right. This is not a decision any of us 
can make lightly. I have met Eowyn and it distresses me that she may be in 
danger, yet I cannot place Rohan's interests above those of Gondor's."

The Princess pushed Aragorn's hands away and abruptly sat up. Then, yanking her 
hand free of her husband's grip, she rose unsteadily to her feet. "Your precious 
country cannot survive without help from the Rohirrim. THAT is why your father 
permitted you to marry me against the wishes of the Council, who preferred you 
wed some Gondorian noblewoman." Boromir looked surprised. He was not aware that 
any of the Rohirrim was privy to the council's arguments. "You needn't bother to 
deny it, either. Rohan's warriors are good enough to bleed for your precious 
Gondor, but they are not good enough to marry the next Steward. If your very 
existence did not depend upon our military support, you would still be unwed."

Eledwhen glared challengingly at Boromir, who remained mute. He looked as though 
he was uncertain how he should respond to her accusations. Aragorn spoke 
instead. "Now is not the time to argue the politics of a marital alliance. We 
must all focus upon the task at hand. Princess, if I may suggest a solution?" He 
looked at her as though asking permission to continue. Eledwhen slowly let out 
her breath in a long sigh.

"Please, your advice would be most welcome." Boromir gave Aragorn a sharp look.

"Yes, let us hear what wisdom the future King of Gondor has to offer," he said 
sarcastically. Aragorn looked startled. The venom in the other man's voice made 
it plain that Boromir had not totally accepted the Ranger as his future liege 
lord. 

Deciding he had best tread carefully, Aragorn replied, "I have not yet earned 
the crown of Gondor. I know that, until I have proven myself, you will be unable 
to accept me as your future king on faith alone. Therefore, I ask for your 
patience. I also ask that you allow me to offer what advice I may as to what 
road you take next." He held Boromir's gaze. For a long while, it seemed that 
they tested one another's will. Finally, Boromir broke eye contact and turned to 
Eledwhen.

"Let us hear what the Dunadan has to say." The Princess nodded slightly and 
turned her azure gaze upon the Ranger.    

"Your advice is most welcome, Estel." Aragorn started at her unexpected use of 
his Elven name. He heard Legolas' soft laughter and gave the Elf a hard stare. 
"Do not direct your ire toward the Prince of Mirkwood, for it was your own 
Evenstar who told me about your upbringing in the House of Elrond Peredhil. Does 
it bother you that I call you Estel? I fear that, without you, Middle-earth 
would have no hope."

Aragorn smiled ruefully at the play on his name. Boromir scowled because he was 
hurt that Eledwhen would diminish his role against the forces of Mordor. He also 
did not know that Estel was the Elvish word for hope. "Well, Ranger, we are 
waiting for you to tell us lesser folk what we should do." 

Aragorn held up one hand, palm outward, and said softly, "Peace, brother. I am 
not your rival. I would prefer that you think of me as an ally. We both have the 
same goal, to save Middle-earth from the Dark Lord. I know you are a proud man 
and are not used to accepting the will of any other save your father, the 
Steward. I ask only that you work with me toward our common purpose."

Boromir drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. While in Lorien, it had 
been so easy to accept the Ranger as his future king. Now he was once again 
plagued by doubts and suspicions. Yet nothing had changed. Had the Elves placed 
some sort of spell upon him? Was that why he had so suddenly accepted Aragorn? 
Everything felt different now. He was tormented day and night by his thoughts 
about the Ring and what would happen if this would-be king took it to wield it. 

Legolas moved to stand beside Aragorn and whispered, "He does not trust you. He 
fears your intentions."  Aragorn nodded and crossed the space between himself 
and the man of Gondor. 

"Our road lies together for many more hundreds of leagues. One being acting 
alone cannot do what must be done. I need you at my side. Will you set aside 
your doubts for now?"

Boromir thought a few moments before answering. Finally, he said, "I will judge 
each day as it comes. For now, I will keep an open mind." Aragorn smiled, 
relieved by the man's uneasy truce. 

"That is all anyone may ask," he said. "Now, as to that solution I spoke of 
earlier. Princess, I advise you to accompany the Lord Boromir to Minas Tirith 
before traveling to Rohan. You should not confront this Wormtongue if you truly 
believe him to be in league with Saruman. You would not only put your own life 
at risk, but the life of Boromir." Aragorn had been facing Boromir as he spoke. 
Now he turned to the Princess for her answer to his suggestion…  and was alarmed 
by her pallor.

Eledwhen's face was ashen. She had just experienced a vision of her brother's 
mutilated body. She nodded numbly before moving to sit by the fire; a mixture of 
grief and guilt tormented her thoughts. She had failed her brother and he was 
dead. Would she also fail her husband? Would Boromir die as well? The members of 
the Fellowship stood by helplessly as she sobbed uncontrollably.

 

Sometimes Things Don't Turn Out the Way We Planned, Part I

(Parth Galen, February 26, about 11 a.m.)

The Fellowship reached Parth Galen the morning of February 26. Each was in a 
somber mood; almost everyone was dreading the next leg of the journey. Aragorn 
sat apart, his head down, deep in thought. As the leader of the Company, it was 
his responsibility to decide whether to go on to Mordor or to accompany Boromir 
to Minas Tirith. Although he greatly desired to defend the land he one day would 
rule, he knew he could not allow Frodo and the others to journey East without 
him. He had agonized over this decision every minute since leaving Lothlorien. 

What if I take Frodo and the Ring to Mount Doom, complete the quest 
successfully, then return to Gondor only to find my future Kingdom laid to waste 
and my would-be subjects slaughtered? Yet, if I go with Boromir to the White 
City and Frodo fails in his mission, Gondor and its people will fall anyway. The 
stress of the past nine days had made Aragorn's empty stomach burn and his head 
pound. If only Gandalf had not fallen in Moria. He would be the one to lead 
Frodo into Mordor and I would be free to follow my heart to Gondor. Alas that 
fate should be such a fickle mistress.

Frodo also sat by himself. Although he had no doubts about which course he must 
take, he was terrified of the journey ahead. He also knew in his heart that the 
other Hobbits should not go with him. Frodo watched dejectedly as they spread 
out their bedrolls. Aragorn had suggested that each use this time to take some 
rest. Perhaps if I went off on my own, I might be better able to decide how best 
to proceed, he thought. After a quick glance at the rest of the Company, Frodo 
slipped soundlessly into the woods of Amon Hen. No one but Boromir saw him 
leave.

*  * * * * * * *

Frodo did not know how long he had been wandering through the woods. Although it 
seemed that he had left the others hours ago, he was certain it could not have 
been more than half-an-hour. He felt much more depressed now that he was alone. 
Sighing loudly, Frodo jumped up upon the remains of a great statue and stretched 
out on his back. In a few moments he was asleep.

Something interrupted Frodo's slumber; he sat up quickly and searched the area 
for what had alarmed him in his sleep. A flash of blue and maroon caught his eye 
and he knew that the man of Gondor had found him. The Hobbit steeled himself for 
a confrontation as Boromir stepped into the small clearing.

"None of us should wander alone, especially you. Why did you leave the Company, 
Frodo?" Boromir's gray eyes were filled with concern and pity, yet Frodo knew 
that this meeting was no accident. Feeling terribly vulnerable, the Hobbit 
jumped to the ground and began moving away from the man. "What is wrong, little 
one?" asked Boromir, the expression on his face one of genuine concern. "You 
look as though you face an enemy. I am not your foe, but your friend. Or, at 
least I hope you think of me as such."

Frodo shook his head. "I do not trust you." Boromir looked shocked as Frodo 
hurriedly spoke the words he'd held back since the day of Elrond's Council. "I 
know you are the Captain-General of Gondor's army and a noble man. Yet I also 
know that you desire the Ring because you cannot see how truly evil it is. 
Believe me when I say that if I gave it to you, it would be your ruin."

A cloud of anger immediately replaced the concern and shock on the man's fair 
face. "You talk like that fool of a wizard! He said it was altogether evil and 
was, therefore, afraid to wield it. But I am not an old man who fears the 
unknown. I am a warrior who has survived much that would still your heart were 
you to face it. I ask only for the means to save my people. Would you but lend 
it to me…" 

Frodo's mouth fell open and he gaped disbelievingly at the tall man before him. 
I must find Aragorn, he thought fearfully. I am no match for this fierce 
warrior. "You are not yourself," the Hobbit said aloud, hoping that his voice 
sounded more confident than he felt. "I am going back to the others."

As Frodo walked across the clearing, Boromir unexpectedly lunged at him and 
caught him about the waist with his strong arms. As Frodo struggled to free 
himself, Boromir lost his balance and both Hobbit and man fell heavily onto the 
hard ground. Frodo was still trying to catch his breath when he felt Boromir's 
hands clutching at his throat in a frantic attempt to take the Ring. "No! It 
must be destroyed," Frodo cried. 

Boromir's face was flushed dark red and his eyes looked wild. "Fool! Obstinate 
fool!! It is not yours save by unhappy chance. It might have been mine. It 
should be mine. Give it to me!!" 

Frodo gripped the Ring tightly. He was terrified of the huge man but even more 
terrified of what might happen should he gain possession of the One. "Boromir, 
please. You are not yourself! Let me go!!" As the two continued to struggle for 
control of the Ring, Frodo felt a pulsing heat begin to burn his hands. With a 
sick feeling of dread, the Halfling realized that the One wanted to be taken by 
this half-crazed man; the realization gave him strength to place the Ring upon a 
finger.

Boromir stared at the bare ground where he knew Frodo had to be, but he could 
not see the Hobbit. Although Elrond and Mithrandir had warned against the power 
of the Ring, the man had seen no signs of that power. Stunned beyond speech, he 
was able only to stare downward as though transfixed. Frodo took advantage of 
the moment and kicked his adversary in the shin, the blow causing the man to 
fall backward.

The man of Gondor was furious over what he considered the Hobbit's treachery. 
His desire for the Ring was surging through every fiber of his being. He must 
have this weapon to save his homeland! "Miserable trickster!" he shouted. "You 
are a traitor! I see your purpose. You will take the Ring to Sauron and sell us 
all!! Come back you miserable little… " Boromir's words were cut off as he 
tripped over a large rock and fell prone onto the ground.

Stunned, Denethor's heir looked about for signs of Frodo. The fall had broken 
the Ring's hold over him and he began to weep in shame. "What have I done? 
Frodo, come back! A madness came over me, but it is gone. Please, come back. I 
am so sorry." But Frodo did not hear the man's pleas and self-recriminations; he 
already was out of earshot.

* * * * * * * * *

Frodo ran recklessly through the woods, stopping only when he found himself 
alone on the summit of Amon Hen, the Hill of Sight. His small breast was heaving 
as he gasped for breath and his stomach was churning violently. For the first 
time in his life, Frodo was thankful he had not eaten second breakfast.

The Hobbit's breathing gradually returned to normal and he was able to take 
stock of his surroundings. Before him was a wide flat circle, paved with mighty 
flags and surrounded by a crumbling battlement. In the middle, set upon four 
carven pillars, was a high seat reached by a long stairway. Without really being 
aware of his actions, Frodo ascended those steep steps and seated himself upon 
the throne.

Because he still wore the Ring, Frodo saw the world about him through a black 
mist. Images began to swirl though his tormented mind and, for a moment only, he 
thought he had gone mad. He was sitting upon the Seat of Seeing on Amon Hen, the 
Hill of the Eye of the Men of Numenor. Then the mist parted and he gazed 
unhampered to the East, then to the West, then to the North and, finally, to the 
South. Below his feet the Great River plunged over the Falls of Rauros into a 
foaming pit. Far away he could see Minas Tirith and he realized, with a start, 
that the great city was under siege by an army greater and much stronger than 
its own. Tears of despair sprang to his eyes and would have fallen except that, 
suddenly, he felt the Eye.

In the back of his mind, Frodo heard a voice saying, "There is an Eye in the 
Dark Tower that does not sleep." Now he felt the Eye upon him and he was 
terrified, for it seemed that a fierce, eager will was searching greedily for 
him. Take it off! Take it off before he sees you!! Frodo did not know from 
whence the warning voice came, but he heeded it just the same. With only a few 
seconds to spare, he tore the Ring from his finger and fell off the throne onto 
the hard flagstones. Many minutes passed before the Halfling realized he was 
sobbing wildly.

As Frodo lay before the throne of mountain kings, he made up his mind about the 
quest. He would take the road to Mordor and he would take it alone. He would not 
risk anyone else falling prey to the Ring's siren call. Nor would he subject his 
friends to the horrible fate that most certainly awaited him. No, he would 
immediately set out alone for the Dark Land.

Having screwed up his courage, Frodo quickly descended the steps of Amon Hen and 
raced back to Parth Galen.

* * * * * * * * *   

Aragorn was startled out of his reverie by a cry from Sam. "What is it now, 
Sam?" he asked curtly.

"Where's Master Frodo?" Sam asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. "He was 
right here a little while ago and now he's not!"

Merry and Pippin jumped up from their bedrolls and began running toward the 
woods. "Wait, do not go off alone," shouted Aragorn. Either the young Hobbits 
did not hear him or else they chose to ignore his words. The Ranger turned 
around to speak to Sam and saw that he, too, was headed for the woods. "Legolas, 
Gimli go after Pippin and Merry and guard them. I will search for Sam."

The Elf and dwarf ran into the woods in the direction the younger Hobbits had 
taken. Aragorn started to leave, but stopped when he saw Boromir's shield. He 
had forgotten all about the man of Gondor. And where was Eledwhen? How could 
three members of the Company leave the area without him knowing? I fear this day 
will end badly, he thought grimly.

* * * * * * * * *
 

Sometimes Things Don't Turn Out the Way We Planned, Part II

(Parth Galen, February 26, shortly before noon)

Eledwhen saw Boromir walk into the woods, but thought nothing of it until she 
noticed that Frodo was not amongst the Company. And so it begins, she thought 
sadly. My vision of Boromir and the Hobbit is about to come to fruition. I 
failed my brother and he is dead. I shall not fail my husband. Determined to 
change the man's fate, the Princess of Rohan walked unseen and unheard into the 
woods in the direction Boromir had taken.

*  * * * * * * *

Eledwhen caught up with her husband and watched grimly as Boromir struggled with 
the diminutive Halfling for possession of the Ring. She was fully prepared to 
intervene in the event the man was successful, for she could see what Boromir 
could not -- that the Ring was wholly evil and would destroy him rather than 
allow itself to be used in Gondor's defense. She would do anything to prevent 
the man she loved from becoming the tenth ring wraith. Fortune, however, smiled 
upon the man of Gondor that fateful day and Frodo was able to slip the Ring upon 
a finger and disappear. Eledwhen almost was as surprised as was Boromir, though 
she already had witnessed this sequence of events in a vision; the reality of 
the hobbits disappearance was no less disturbing, however.

As Boromir continued to shout his paranoiac delusions concerning Frodo's 
imagined purpose, Eledwhen began walking toward him. She stopped when she 
realized that the man now lay sprawled upon his face and was sobbing. Unaware of 
Eledwhen's presence, Boromir raised his head and peered into the forest. "Frodo, 
come back. I am sorry. Some madness took me, but it has passed. Please, forgive 
me," he said between sobs. 

Tears sprang to Eledwhen's eyes as she witnessed the humiliation of her husband. 
Quietly she withdrew from the small clearing and began making her way back to 
Parth Galen.

* * * * * * * * *

Boromir was returning to Parth Galen when he heard the small voices of Hobbits 
shouting Frodo's name. He recognized Pippin's voice and began to run toward it. 
If something happens to either of those two innocent Halflings, I will never 
forgive myself, he thought bitterly. Suddenly, the memory of Eledwhen's vision 
hit him like a bolt of lightening and he halted. Could it be true that Prince 
Theodred is dead, just as my wife foresaw, and that I now run to my death? For a 
few moments Boromir stood uncertainly in the shadows cast by the trees, then he 
began to run rapidly toward the receding voices of Merry and Pippin. Only a 
coward puts his own life before the lives of the defenseless, he thought grimly. 
I have not lived as a coward, nor shall I die as one.

* * * * * * * * *

Eledwhen also heard the hobbits shouting Frodo's name. Instead of returning to 
the campsite, she turned and followed the sound of the voices. 

As the Princess of Rohan reached the spot where her husband had stood 
indecisively only a few minutes previously, she thought she saw Boromir darting 
between two trees. In the distance she could hear the high-pitched voices of the 
two youngest Hobbits. "No," she whispered, "I shall not lose you as well." With 
no thought for her own safety, Eledwhen ran swiftly after the man she loved.

* * * * * * * * *   

Aragorn had finally caught up with Sam, who was nearly out of his mind with 
worry over Frodo's well being. "Sam, you must return to Parth Galen. I will find 
the rest of the Fellowship and meet you by the shore." The Ranger looked at the 
gardener expectantly, but the Halfling refused to retreat. 

"Begging your pardon, Master Strider, but I shan't be going nowheres without Mr. 
Frodo. He needs me." Aragorn smiled kindly down at Sam, wondering how such a 
small creature could have such a huge reserve of courage.

"You are a brave and loyal friend, Samwise Gamgee. Frodo is very fortunate to 
have such a friend. However, you will be of no help to your master if you become 
lost in these woods. For all we know, Frodo may already have returned to the 
campsite."

Sam nodded slowly, touched the tall man's hand as though to say "thank you," 
then turned and ran in the direction of the Great River. "May you find what you 
seek, good Hobbit," the Ranger said softly. Aragorn focused his keen senses on 
locating some sign of Frodo as he moved silently through the woods. He picked up 
the Hobbit's tracks, but frowned when he noticed that they led upward and not 
downward toward Parth Galen. Where are you going, Frodo? And what, or who, has 
made you run? The man glanced about briefly, checking for signs of the others, 
before following the tracks left by the Ring-bearer.  

* * * * * * * * *

Legolas and Gimli were standing in the small clearing where Boromir had 
confronted Frodo less than half-an-hour before. The wood Elf looked skyward and 
noted that the sun was approaching the noon hour. "Perhaps our young charges 
will remember that they have not eaten since before dawn and return to the 
camp," Legolas mused aloud.

"And I suppose you also believe in flying horses," Gimli retorted. Legolas 
favored his companion with a mysterious smile that quickly vanished as he heard 
the unmistakable sounds of orcs. "What is it?" the dwarf hissed. "What do you 
hear?"

"Yrch!" Legolas replied as he began running deeper into the woods. I knew we 
should not have waited for nightfall to cross to the eastern shore. Now we are 
trapped between orcs and the Anduin. What shall become of us only the Valar 
know.

* * * * * * * * *

(Parth Galen, February 26, noon)

Pippin and Merry were running blindly through the woods surrounding Amon Hen. 
Their frantic cries of "Frodo, Frodo where are you?" echoed loudly through the 
still forest. Suddenly, in the distance, they thought they heard an answering 
cry. 

"Wait, Pippin. I think I hear something." Merry stopped so abruptly that the 
younger hobbit slammed into his backside, causing both to tumble gracelessly to 
the hard ground. "Watch where you are going, why don't you?" shouted Merry. 
"Gandalf was right! You are a fool of a Took!" Having said his piece, Merry 
pushed himself into a sitting position and made a "shushing" sound as Pippin 
began to sputter in outrage. "Quiet! I think I hear Frodo."

Pippin looked exasperated. "I don't hear anything..." His voice trailed off as 
he, too, suddenly heard shouts. "Call me late for supper if that isn't a 
familiar sound. I fear we may have run into more orcs." Pippin was white and 
shaking, and the last thing Merry expected him to do was jump up and run in the 
direction of the shouts.

"Pip, have you gone mad? You're supposed to run away from orcs. Come back. 
You'll get yourself killed! Pippin!!" As his friend disappeared into the forest, 
Merry contemplated his choices. He could either go back to the riverbank 
(wherever that was) or he could follow his friend into danger. "I always knew 
you'd get me killed someday," Merry muttered glumly as he began running in the 
direction Pippin had taken.

* * * * * * * * *

Merry and Pippin continued to run in the direction of the orc voices, heedless 
of their own safety. They had to find Frodo, even should it mean their own 
deaths. Both stopped abruptly when they saw a flash of green. "Frodo," Pippin 
shouted, before Merry could stop him. 

"Lower your voice," Merry hissed. "Do you want them to find us?" Pippin looked 
fearfully ahead and saw many orcs fanned out among the trees and all coming 
their way. Quickly they turned and began running in the direction they'd last 
seen Frodo.  

* * * * * * * * *

Boromir was running through the woods, cursing himself for his weakness. Never 
would Faramir have allowed himself to fall prey to the Ring. This was his quest. 
I should not have taken it from him. Although I convinced myself that I should 
be the one to undertake the journey to save him from a lonely death, I was 
merely fooling myself. My blind ambition and pride goaded me into stealing my 
brother's quest and I have paid the price. How can I face the others, for surely 
they will be able to read my shame? At least, I know that Aragorn and that Elf 
will be able to.

Realizing that his path had taken him back toward the campsite, Gondor's heir 
decided to return in hopes of gaining reinforcements. He was surprised to find 
the area deserted. Where are the others? Surely they have not gone in search of 
me. Loud shouts and cries from the direction in which he had returned told the 
story. We have been discovered! Those are orc voices or I am a fool. I must find 
Merry and Pippin and trust that Aragorn will protect the Ring-bearer.

Boromir stopped only long enough to scoop up his great shield before plunging 
back into the forest.

* * * * * * * * *   

Eledwhen saw Boromir grab his shield and run back into the forest. She called to 
him but either he did not hear her, or he chose not to answer. In the distance, 
she could hear shouting. No! He must not! Frantic over her husband's safety, the 
Princess hiked up her skirts and ran after Boromir.

* * * * * * * * *

Aragorn was following Frodo's footprints when he heard the sound of Gondor's 
horn. He faced the direction from which the sound of the deep-throated calls for 
help emanated. Legolas and Gimli appeared almost immediately from the woods to 
his right. "Boromir," Aragorn hissed. "He is in trouble." The three companions 
raced swiftly toward the now desperate cries for help.

* * * * * * * * *

Boromir had found Merry and Pippin facing a horde of orcs and large Uruks. As 
Boromir drew his weapon, the sound of steel grating against steel rang loudly, 
announcing his presence. The two young Halflings turned toward the sound and 
shouted the man's name in unison. Both fear and relief flooded their taut faces 
as the vile creatures bore down upon them. Boromir shouted "Gondor!" before 
running to stand between the hobbits and their attackers.

* * * * * * * * *

Eledwhen heard Boromir shout at almost the same time she heard the yells of the 
Uruks and orcs. She froze, unable to move, as memories of her own capture and 
subsequent attack bombarded her senses. A soft whimper escaped her lips and she 
began to retreat. She stopped, however, as the sounds of clashing weapons 
reached her position. Caught between her terror and her love for Boromir, 
Eledwhen remained frozen until the clear, ringing sounds of the Horn of Gondor 
reminded her of her vision. 

"No!" she screamed. No longer hesitant or afraid, Eledwhen raced toward the 
sounds of battle.

* * * * * * * * *

Pippin and Merry cowered behind Boromir's back and watched helplessly as he slew 
Uruk after Uruk. And still they came, swarming like maddened ants protecting 
their hive. The Uruks had pushed Boromir's position back some 20 feet and he 
knew they would all meet their end shortly unless the rest of the Company joined 
in the fray. Blast it, where is Aragorn? What good will he be to Gondor if he 
cannot be counted upon in battle?

Although he already had slain more than two-dozen Uruks and orcs, there appeared 
to be no end to their numbers. This is hopeless, Boromir thought grimly. Without 
taking his eyes off the enemy, the man shouted to the hobbits behind him. 
"Merry, Pippin, run! Make your way back to the river. Find Aragorn and the 
others! Go, quickly!!"

The Halflings remained unmoving, not certain what they should do. Both wanted to 
run away, but neither wished to leave their friend to face the horde alone. 
Merry finally spoke. "No! If one of dies, we all die! We shall not desert you." 
Picking up large rocks from the ground, they began throwing them at the Uruks, 
who ignored them as though they were no more than annoying flies.

Boromir did not have time to again entreat the Halflings to flee. He was too 
busy trying to keep them alive. As he thrust aside an orc scmichter, his 
peripheral vision caught a glimpse of movement. He realized, almost too late, 
that an Uruk archer was unleashing an arrow from his bow. The man thrust his 
sword into the Uruk in front of him while raising his shield to deflect the now 
oncoming arrow. Although the arrow bounced harmlessly off the shield, many more 
arrows flew toward him. Boromir took stock of this new strategy as he saw the 
Uruk swordsmen step out of his reach to allow the archers to do what they could 
not.

* * * * * * * * *

Realizing that the situation was hopeless, Boromir once more placed the horn of 
Gondor to his lips and blew several frantic notes. Why do they not come? Is this 
the future king's way of dealing with the competition? Boromir had no more time 
for grim speculation as the barrage of arrows became thicker and he realized 
that soon he would be overwhelmed. His shield could not stop all the arrows.

"Pippin, Merry, I entreat you to leave. There is no reason for you to die as 
well." The two hobbits looked at one another as it finally hit home that Boromir 
was about to sacrifice his life for theirs. The point was driven home even 
further when an arrow slipped past Boromir's defenses and impacted loudly as it 
drove the chain mail protecting his arm into his flesh.

The two hobbits stared at one another, shock registering on their faces. Then, 
as another arrow bounced harmlessly off the man's mail shirt, Pippin and Merry 
shouted a challenge to the swarming Uruks and orcs. "The Shire!" they cried in 
unison, just before hurling themselves against two foes about to unleash arrows 
from their bows.

Distracted by the hobbits' actions, Boromir turned toward them, leaving himself 
open. An unusually large Uruk grinned wickedly as he saw the man's defenses 
drop. Slowly he pulled back on the bow and prepared to loose the poison-tipped 
arrow.

* * * * * * * * *

Eledwhen was out of breath when she finally came upon the battle scene. She bit 
back a scream as she saw an arrow imbed itself into Boromir's arm. She watched 
in horror as the hobbits raced toward the attackers and Boromir became 
distracted long enough for an Uruk to find a fatal target on the man's body. As 
she watched the bow reach its release point, Eledwhen sprang forward and slammed 
her body against Boromir's, knocking him off-balance and causing him to hit the 
ground.

At this point, two major events occurred. The first was the arrival of Aragorn, 
Legolas and Gimli. The second was the loosening of the Uruk bow, which sent the 
poison-tipped arrow flying toward Boromir. Events seemed to move in slow motion 
as everyone followed the flight of the arrow. As the missile passed the space 
where Boromir had been mere seconds before, Eledwhen's body crossed into its 
path and the arrow struck her in the chest.   

* * * * * * * * *

Aragorn had heard battle sounds well before he and the other two members of the 
rapidly disintegrating Fellowship reached the site. The Ranger was dismayed to 
see Merry and Pippin charging enemies three times their size, while Boromir 
vainly tried to stop them. Because of Legolas' advantage point, he was the first 
to realize the imminent danger to the Gondorian's life. The Elf cried out a 
warning just as Eledwhen threw herself against Boromir, knocking him to the 
ground. Legolas had no conscious thought of how his bow became nocked and drawn, 
but he released his arrow a split second after the Uruk's arrow embedded itself 
into the girl's chest. Legolas continued firing arrows as Aragorn and Gimli 
threw themselves into battle with a mad intensity spawned by the sight of an 
Uruk arrow striking Rohan's Princess.

* * * * * * * * *   

Boromir grunted as the wind was knocked out of his body from the impact of the 
fall. Surprised and confused, he looked up just as the arrow found its mark. 
"NO!!" he shouted, scrambling to his feet in time to catch Eledwhen as she began 
falling to the earth. "No," he whispered as he gently set her against a large 
poplar tree.

Despite his deep concern for his wife's condition, Boromir's warrior instincts 
forced him to return to the battle. He fought fiercely and killed mercilessly, 
desiring to punish those responsible for what he was certain would be Eledwhen's 
death. 



Aftermath


(Parth Galen, February 26, sometime in the afternoon)

Saruman's forces finally withdrew. Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn and Boromir had 
fought with the strength and intensity of 40. Even the huge Uruks eventually 
became afraid of the grim quartet, and their fear made them flee. Many believed 
the girl to be some sort of witch who had cast a spell that made the four 
warriors undefeatable. In the end, it was the orcs' superstitious nature that 
saved the lives of those who remained in the Company.

* * * * * * * * *

Gimli, Legolas and Aragorn watched as the orcs and Uruks withdrew. The battle 
won, Boromir rushed to where Eledwhen lay. Pippin and Merry were standing over 
her pale form, short swords drawn.

"It is alright, little ones," Boromir said gently. "The danger has passed, for 
now. I thank you both for looking after my wife." Merry and Pippin sheathed 
their weapons as Boromir slowly fell to his knees beside Eledwhen. "Why did you 
do such a foolish thing?" he murmured softly.   

As Boromir began to gather Eledwhen into his arms, Aragorn approached. "It may 
not be too late to save her. I ask that you allow me to examine your wife, for I 
have some skill as a healer." Boromir looked at the Ranger doubtfully.

"He helped save Frodo's life after he was stabbed by the Morgul blade. Don't you 
remember?" Pippin asked. "I know he can save your wife."

Boromir looked from Pippin to Aragorn. "I have no other choice but to place her 
life into your hands. I pray that your skills are up to the task."

Aragorn looked down at the Princess of Rohan; she looked more dead than alive. 
"So do I," he said grimly.

* * * * * * * * *

Aragorn insisted that the Company return to their camp, where it was discovered 
that one of the boats was missing. 

"It looks as though two hobbits returned here," said Legolas, peering closely at 
the tracks by the water's edge. "Since Pippin and Merry are here, I must assume 
that Frodo and Sam took the boat. Think you, Aragorn, that they plan to enter 
Mordor alone?"

The Ranger moved to stand beside his friend. He was silent for several moments, 
his keen eyes scanning the eastern shore of the Anduin. Finally, he spoke. "Yes, 
I do believe that both have taken the quest upon their own small shoulders. We 
can do no more for them. We must now see to Boromir's wife. Beyond that, I 
cannot see our path."

Boromir's voice cut into their conversation. "Eledwhen is cold and I do not 
think she will live much longer. If you are going to help her, you had best get 
to it," he said hotly. 

Man and Elf exchanged a brief glance before Aragorn moved to kneel at the girl's 
side. "Legolas, I will need your help. Take Gimli and search the area for 
athelas. It is doubtful you will find any, but we must look. And be cautious! 
The orcs may decide to return."

Legolas nodded, then looked questioningly at the dwarf. Gimli met the Elf's 
eyes. "Let us go. There is nothing we can do here."

* * * * * * * * *   

Aragorn removed the arrow from Eledwhen's body and cleansed the wound as best he 
could with boiled water. He then packed mud from the river into the wound and 
bound it. "Is there nothing else you can do for her?" Boromir asked hoarsely.

"Not without athelas or some other healing herb. However, Anduin's mud is known 
for its natural cleansing effect on the body. It will help draw out the poison. 
We must hope Eledwhen is strong enough to hold onto life long enough for her 
blood to be purged of the orcs' poison. The wound itself is not mortal."

Boromir frowned. "When I was near death from a knife wound, she was able to save 
my life. Surely whatever power she possesses will save her life as well."

The Ranger looked at Eledwhen speculatively. "The Lady Galadriel told me of the 
incident. However, it is her belief that while her granddaughter can heal the 
hurts of others, she does not have the power to heal herself."

Boromir nodded slowly. "So that is why she was dead set against Eledwhen joining 
our quest. I have been incredibly selfish! I should have insisted she remain in 
Lorien, where she would now be safe. Should she die, the guilt will lie upon my 
shoulders."

Aragorn placed a hand upon the younger man's arm and leaned forward until their 
faces were close together. "You must not blame yourself for what could not be 
helped. Eledwhen came upon this journey to make certain that you return home 
safely. She told me as much the night before we left the Golden Wood. If she 
dies, you must return to the White City and continue the war against our Enemy. 
It is what she would want."

Boromir was now weeping openly. When he finally was able to speak, his words 
were bitter. "What good is a soldier who cannot save even the life of his own 
wife? It is I who should have protected her! If not for my weakness, none of 
this would have happened. Frodo and Sam would not be alone and helpless in 
Mordor and my wife would be looking forward to a reunion with her father. I have 
brought shame upon myself." Aragorn looked at him curiously, for he did not know 
of the altercation between Boromir and the Ring-bearer. 

"Of what shame do you speak? Have you played some part in Frodo's departure? 
Speak now before the others return." Boromir's eyes narrowed as he studied the 
man before him. 

"I like not your tone, Ranger. You are no king yet and so have not the right to 
demand anything of me." Aragorn tensed and his mouth drew into a thin line of 
annoyance. 

"I am the leader of this Company. This alone gives me the right to ask any 
question I deem necessary to ensure the success of our mission."

Boromir smiled grimly. "Our part of the mission is over, I deem, and you have 
pledged your sword in Gondor's defense. Do not think that my father, the 
Steward, will welcome you as a king when we reach my city." Aragorn sighed 
deeply and turned to study the sleeping girl.

"What will be will be. I cannot see the future. For now, let us set aside our 
petty differences for Eledwhen's sake. Our quarreling will not help her."

 * * * * * * * * *

As the sun began to set, Boromir was relieved to see that the Princess of Rohan 
appeared no worse, despite the fact that Legolas and Gimli had not found the 
precious athelas. "This is a good sign, no?" he asked Aragorn. 

The Ranger shook his head. "That she appears to be no better worries me. We need 
to get her help or she will certainly die."

Boromir looked toward the river, where the remaining two boats were docked. "Can 
we not take her back to Lorien? Surely the Lord and Lady can save her, if anyone 
can." Aragorn stared intently at the deathly pallor that had settled upon 
Eledwhen's face and came to a decision.

"Legolas, you will take one of the boats and return to Lothlorien with the 
Princess, Merry and Pippin."

The two hobbits jumped up from where they had been sitting and began protesting. 
"You will need our help, Strider!" declared Merry. 

"What if the orcs come back?" Pippin chimed in. "You will need our swords." 

Legolas had been standing silently beside the water's edge. Now he, too, spoke 
against leaving the Company. "Now that the Enemy knows where we are, his minions 
will continue to hunt us. You shall need my skills, Estel."

Aragorn shook his head, his face grim. "If the Halflings could handle the boat, 
I would send only them with the Princess. But they cannot and so I will not. 
Boromir, it is to the White City that the Company travels. What say you?"

Boromir looked thoughtful as he weighed the options in his mind. Finally, he 
produced a loud sigh. "We cannot carry Eledwhen to Minas Tirith. The journey is 
too long and too dangerous. I fear she would be a burden to us should we be 
attacked. I would take her back to her grandparents except that you will need me 
to stand against my father once you reach the White City. The Lord Steward will 
not be overly joyous to meet his future King and Lord." 

Gimli finally added his thoughts to the conversation. Speaking abruptly he said, 
"Well, I certainly cannot take her back! I am no boatsman. Yet she must be taken 
to Lorien, and soon. We have wasted enough time. It is as plain as day that the 
Elf must be the one to return Eledwhen to the care of the Lord and Lady of the 
Golden Wood."

Legolas quirked one eyebrow imperiously and asked archly, "And why, pray tell, 
is that?"   

Aragorn did not miss that the Elf and the dwarf were about to enter a prolonged 
confrontation. This, more than anything else, made the Ranger come to a final 
decision. "Boromir, Eledwhen is your wife. Therefore, the responsibility of 
saving her life falls upon you. Take her now with all haste. I have done all I 
can for her. Her fate is now in your hands."

* * * * * * * * *

It seems that nobody likes my Boromir. But you faithful readers seem to love 
Eledwhen. So the next story will be about Eledwhen's life-and-death struggle and 
a little about "that prick" Boromir. Or I could make him change and be a nicer 
guy. That's the great thing about writing an AU story. I will accept any ideas 
for the next story. You, the reader, can determine what happens next. I am going 
on vacation until Oct. 3, 2003, so send those suggestions before I start 
writing.--Adara