Under the Evening Sky
Chapter 7
By Guanín
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be, no matter how much I wish they were. Some of the dialogue is taken directly from the movie.
Feedback: Please, I need it to survive.
Under the Evening Sky
Chapter 7
By Guanín
The two lay side by side, exhausted bodies glistening with sweat.
“Well, my precious elf, what do you say?” said Boromir. “Was I able to fully satiate your passion?”
“My passion for you, Boromir, will never diminish. Although I have to admit, at this particular moment I am too tired to demonstrate it to you. You are not easily satisfied yourself.”
“How can I resist enjoying such an exquisite and willing partner?”
“Don’t worry, you will get plenty of chances. We probably are going to stay for a couple of days to allow everyone a chance to recover.”
“Do I get to have you all those days?”
Legolas only smiled in his direction. Boromir already knew the answer.
They remained a number of days in Lothlórien, though none could tell exactly how many. Legolas and Boromir spent some of that time with the group but mostly went off by themselves, relishing the other’s company, allowing themselves to forget the outside world and the troubles that plagued them. The other’s made no comment at their unexpected closeness, yet they wondered what exactly their relationship entailed.
When it came time to leave, the Lady Galadriel bestowed upon each of them a distinctive gift and their hearts were gladdened at receiving them yet at the same time saddened as they left the peaceful kingdom of the Golden Wood. Legolas and Boromir traveled in different boats, but were nevertheless aware of the other at all times. The long trip along the Anduin was made mostly in silence. A gloomy and bleak feeling hung in the air and an ominous presence prowled in the surrounding forest, regardless of the daytime sun. Unknown threats troubled the minds of the Company, prompting them to press on more rapidly. Finally they passed the Argonath, the twin statues of the old kings which towered over each side of the Great River, their faces stern and arms raised to ward off any unwanted intruders.
They landed on the lawn of Parth Galen at the feet of Amon Hen, where Aragorn announced that they would cross the lake at nightfall and continue then to Mordor. This worried Legolas. A shadow had been growing in his mind; something was drawing near fast, something that might prove fatal if they confronted it. He told Aragorn so, but not the entire truth. Whatever was approaching was not the only threat that he perceived on their journey; something akin to a premonition troubled his spirit.
“Where’s Frodo?”
Merry’s words disturbed Legolas’s thoughts, but the ones uttered by Aragorn caused shivers to run through his limbs.
“Boromir’s gone.”
Legolas turned around quickly and indeed, the lone shield leaned against a tree, but the man himself was nowhere in sight.
Ever since they left Lórien, an old shadow had returned to haunt Boromir’s mind. It called to him, exactly like it had in Rivendell. It’s seductive voice told of victories over their enemies, of a Gondor in which peace was restored and misery would no longer be his people’s lot, of a time when at last the Ruling Stewards became kings in their own right. Of this and many other hidden desires it spoke, and as much as Boromir tried to ignore it, his efforts were in vain. His eyes strayed towards Frodo and he thought of the ring that lay concealed under his clothes. After their arrival, Frodo walked off on his own from the camp and Boromir felt the uncontrollable urge to follow him. He steered away from him at first, not wanting to appear overly suspicious and made the pretense of collecting firewood. He encountered Frodo on the slope of Amon Hen and announced his presence with some friendly advice.
“None of us should wander alone, you least of all. So much depends on you.” Sensing the hobbit’s discomfort, he quietly spoke his name. “Frodo?”
Frodo only looked at him warily.
Boromir’s tone turned understanding.
“I know why you seek solitude. You suffer; I see it day by day. You sure you do not suffer needlessly?”
Now is my chance, he thought, influenced by the ring’s power, Maybe I can convince him not to go to Mordor, but instead to Minas Tirith with me.
“There are other ways Frodo. Other paths that we might take.”
Frodo steadily met his beseeching gaze and spoke firmly.
“I know what you would say. And it would seem like wisdom but for the warning in my heart.”
Boromir started to get irritated.
“Warning? Against what? We are all afraid Frodo.”
Frodo began to back away slowly.
“But to let that fear destroy what hope we have, don’t you see, that is madness.”
“There is no other way!”
Desperation welled up in Boromir.
“I ask only for the strength to defend my people.” He threw the wood he had gathered angrily at the ground. “If you would but lend me the ring.”
“No.” Frodo continued to step further from Boromir.
“Why do you recoil? I am no thief.”
“You are not yourself!”
Boromir’s voice had slight mocking tone, which progressively got louder. “What chance do you think you have? They will find you. They will take the ring, and you will beg for death before the end!”
Frightened, Frodo began to run from him.
Fury rose up within Boromir.
“Fool,” he spit out. Maddened, he pursued Frodo and tackled him to the ground.
“It is not yours save by unhappy chance. It could have been mine! It should be mine! Give it to me!”
He roughly tried to still the struggling hobbit and searched frantically for the
ring.“Give it to me.”
“No!”
“Give me the ring.”
Frodo slipped the ring on his finger and vanished before Boromir’s surprised eyes. He kicked Boromir on the shoulder and ran off.
Boromir looked around with a wild expression on his face.
“Now I see your mind. You will take the ring to Sauron! You will betray us! You go to your death and the death of us all! Curse you! Curse you! And all the halfings!”
In his hurry to stand up he slipped on a patch of lose soil and crashed onto the ground. The fall cleared his mind from the foul presence of the ring and he realized what he had just done. Tears came to his eyes and he called for Frodo remorsefully, offering words of apology, but silence was his only answer.
An immense sorrow grew within Boromir. He had failed the Company and betrayed their trust. The words he had spoken came back to him and filled him with revulsion. How had he let that vile thing control him so? Bereft, he wandered aimlessly through the woods, his mind reeling with dismal thoughts. He had walked for some time when he heard the clash of metal and the heavy footsteps of what could only be an army approaching. Sword drawn, he raced towards the sound, praying that he would not be too late.
Aragorn had gone in search of Boromir while Gimli and Legolas stayed behind. Legolas was frantically trying to stay calm but he knew in his heart what was the threat that had been nagging at him for days. He had noticed the stares that Boromir gave Frodo, he had seen that strange light in his eyes, the odd yearning that tensed his body, the inner struggle that he went through whenever he was near the hobbit. That foul thing still had its claws in Boromir’s mind. Why had he not perceived it earlier?
The loud sounds of a struggle and Aragorn’s battle cry ‘Elendil’ came to their ears.
“Aragorn’s in trouble,” said Gimli.
“The shadow has come, just as I suspected,” Legolas replied grimly, a foreboding air telling him that they would not leave this conflict unscathed.
They rushed towards the sounds of the conflict and as they escalated Amon Hen they saw peculiar orc-like creatures running up the hill. When they reached the Seat of Seeing they noticed that Aragorn was fighting an entire army of them. They rapidly went into action, Legolas shot the foul beings before they could step any closer and Gimli felled them with a hard stroke of his axe.
“Aragorn! Go!” Legolas cried, but the enemy was too numerous and the three of them were barely able to hold them back. They came at them from all directions, vicious faces snarling, broadswords hacking down, seeking to sink into soft flesh. Suddenly, the deep call of an ox-horn was heard. The horn’s nature was unmistakable as was the caller. Profound fear rose up in the elf’s soul and his normally steady hands shook.
“The Horn of Gondor!” he cried, trepidation in his voice.
“Boromir!” exclaimed Aragorn, as he ran in the call’s direction with all the speed that he could muster. Legolas tried to remain close to him but the beasts blocked his path. Desperately, he fought his way through the ranks and slowly moved forward, his anxiety growing with each step he took. When he finally managed to reach Aragorn and saw what was occurring, his heart clenched in a cold vise and he stood for a moment, body frozen in disbelief.
Boromir had arrived just in time to stop an orc from crushing Merry and Pippin with its axe. When more charged at him, he drove them back with the brutal onslaught of his sword. In a short hiatus in the fighting he lifted his great horn to his lips and blew three times, summoning help. Instead, more orcs came running down the hill towards him. Regardless of their greater number, they didn’t last long under the maddened fighting of the Gondorian man. Noticing that no one had come to their aid, Boromir blew the horn again. Seeing that the two hobbits still stood immobile in the same spot he cried to them to flee.
Suddenly, a long, black arrow embedded itself into his left shoulder, pushing his body back. A red, bolt of pain shot wracked his body and he dropped to his knees. He couldn’t catch his breath, it had been forced out of him. He looked up at the hobbit’s shocked and fearful faces and newfound strength emerged within him. He would not let these foul creatures have them for as long as he was able to swing his sword. Shouting a battle cry, he rose and swung at one. Another arrow flew through the air, this one landing in his stomach. He fell to his knees again and struggled to breathe. Once again he stood and made one final attempt to fight but the third arrow, which reached him in the chest, proved to be too much for him. He stumbled and fell for the last time; all his strength had deserted him. Gasping, struggling to at least remain upright, he barely registered the cries that Merry and Pippin gave. He watched helplessly as the orcs carried them off, the immense sense of failure that he had felt on the slopes of Amon Hen returning to him. Their prize in hand, the army walked past him, except for one who stopped in front of him. A black-tipped arrow waved in front of his face, signaling his imminent doom. The orc, who towered above him, prepared to strike the final blow. Just before he could losen his arrow, Aragorn tackled him to the ground.
Weakly, Boromir crawled forward and collapsed on his back at the foot of a tree. Through the lethargic haze that had settled over his brain, one image became clear, that of his dear Legolas. As the image moved closer, he realized that the elf was indeed before him.
Legolas hurried to Boromir’s side, eyes glistening with tears. His hands hovered over the arrows entrenched in the man’s body, not daring to touch them.
“Legolas,” Boromir’s strong voice was dampened with sorrow, “my fair Legolas.”
His hand rose to cup his quivering cheek. Legolas grabbed took hold of it gave it an ardent kiss.
“I have failed, I have failed you.”
“No, no, you could never fail me.”
Boromir smiled grimly at the firmly spoken words.
“I betrayed your trust. I tried to take the ring, it commanded me, I could not resist. I hurt Frodo, he ran from me. He could be hurt or captured like Merry and Pippin. Even there I failed, the orcs, they took them, who knows what horrors await them at their filthy hands.”
“We will get them back, I swear. I will not rest until they are safe and their captors have paid for what they have done to you.”
Boromir’s breath hitched, he knew not much time was left.
“Legolas, I’m so sorry I cannot stay with you. Though I would have left you eventually in any case but I…” he gasped “I hoped at least a few more years…”
“I would have spent your entire lifetime with you,” the anguish was palpable in his voice, “I never would have left your side.”
Boromir’s hand lightly tugged at Legolas and he leaned down. Their lips met in a tender, bittersweet kiss.
“I love you,” Boromir breathed.
A crystalline tear slid down Legolas’s cheek. “I love you.”
Abruptly, the light in Boromir’s eyes faded and his chest stilled. Legolas’s pain-filled eyes widened and he swallowed convulsively, emitting soft, choked off words.
“No, no… no, please don’t leave me, please…”
He embraced the stiffening body of his lover, the tears falling freely now.
Behind him Aragorn and Gimli stood in a mournful silence, feeling the torment of their friend. Around them the forest grew quiet and the only thing that was heard was the sound of an elf’s heart breaking.