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The
Western Shore, on Amon Hen...
"Go
on Frodo, run. Run!"
Aragorn's
sword gleamed in the waning sunlight as he turned away from Frodo and faced the
advancing Uruk-hai who were
approaching from Parth Galen, at the foot of Amon Hen. They were smirking with the prospect of man-flesh
this night, but Aragorn had no intention of being that flesh and as he walked
steadily toward them he raised his sword in a sort of salute, grimly counting
the Uruk's.
Out
numbered...this battle could go ill if help does not arrive in a timely
fashion. How could I have been so lax with my guard? How could they have come
so close without me hearing their approach?
He had no
more time to think as he clashed fiercely with the enemy, swinging and blocking
with his sword, his movements a blur of skill and might. He took out Uruk after Uruk, climbing atop Amon Hen at one point to slow the onslaught, as only a few Uruk and himself would fit atop
the stone ruin. To his delight, Legolas' arrows soon soared into the midst of
the Uruk's and Gimli's
battle cry erupted nearby.
In rapid
succession, Aragorn saw Legolas fire three arrows which quickly found their
markets in black flesh. But he didn't have time to watch his friend. He heard
Legolas shout, "Aragorn! Go!" as the Elf gave the Man just enough
time to begin his flight.
As he
ran, he killed any creature in his path, but despite the skills of Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn put together, they were once again halted
on Parth Galen, just below Amon
Hen, amid more ruins, and Aragorn was set upon by more numbers than he could
handle alone. He soon found himself facing a rather skilled Uruk
that just wouldn't die, and inwardly wished that one of Legolas' arrows would
find its home in his opponent.
But,
oddly, one did not, and Aragorn was pinned against a stone ruin and disoriented
by a blow he had not deflected well enough. In his momentarily daze, he didn't
see the Uruk arrow soar from seemingly nowhere,
hitting him in the right shoulder and pinging off the stone behind him upon
existing his flesh. Aragorn bit back a cry of pain and shoved forward,
dislodging the Uruk pinning him.
Then, an
arrow found its mark in the Uruk and Legolas appeared
behind the creature when it fell to the ground. His eyes widened when they locked
on the arrow shaft and he moved to take a step forward to help Aragorn, but
suddenly stopped and cocked his head to the side. There came a most unwelcome
sound. A horn, loud and clear, bleated from afar and Legolas cried out,
"The Horn of Gondor!"
Aragorn,
not wanting to be looked after right now, rushed past Legolas and the Elf
actually had to backpedal quickly to avoid being knocked into. He frowned, but
hoped that Aragorn would last through this battle with that wound. He made to
follow the Man, but heard a gutteral grunt from
behind him and stopped, turning to find Gimli on the
ground, trying to hoist himself up with his axe.
Hurrying
to the Dwarf's side, Legolas grabbed Gimli's arm and
hauled him to his feet, concern washing over his features when the Dwarf
stumbled and nearly fell. A quick perusal revealed the reason, a deep gash
marred Gimli's leg and blood ran down to mingle with
that of the dead Uruk's at the Dwarf's feet. The Elf
gasped and knelt for a closer look.
"You
are hurt, friend Gimli."
"Bah..."
Gimli scoffed, waving his hand. "Tis but a small gash, nothing to worry about laddie. I'll be fine, I wager. Come, we tarry too
long and we risk our friend Aragorn getting himself killed for real this
time."
Legolas
chuckled lightly, but suddenly sobered, realizing that the longer they tarried
here the more likely Aragorn would find himself in danger of losing his
life...again. So Gimli, hobbled and Legolas jogged,
taking out any straggling Orcs, in the direction that Aragorn had retreated.
Soon, the din of battle reached their ears. But it was not the din of many
foes, more like a single duel.
They
quickened their pace.
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There was
no sign of Merry, Pippin, Sam or Frodo, but Aragorn's eyes were met with a
grisly scene nonetheless. A lone Uruk, likely a
captain of sorts, stood over Boromir, who was gravely
wounded, prepared to fire an arrow point-blank into the son of Gondor's body. With a cry, Aragorn lunged, throwing himself
against the Uruk and rolling back to his feet,
turning to meet his enemy.
This Uruk was larger than most and looked quite a bit stronger.
A little voice in the back of Aragorn's mind told him he wasn't going to be
able to beat the Uruk as easily as your average Orc.
And he was quickly assured of that. The blows this Uruk
delivered had the power of two men behind them and every time Aragorn clashed
swords with the creature his arms would shake with the force of the blows.
His
shoulder was fairly screaming with pain now and his vision was blackening
around the edges, sure signs that he was near to loss of consciousness. If I
pass out now, we are both dead.
So he
fought harder.
And the
blade was knocked from his hands. Aragorn looked up just in time to see
something flying toward him and to his immense surprise, found himself pinned
up against a tree by an odd looking shield of sorts which had lodged around his
neck. Peering over the shield, he saw the Uruk smile
and advance, blade raised, and Aragorn wasted no time in struggling free,
biting back the pain in his arm.
Blood
poured out of the wound as he picked up his sword, running down his arm and
making his grip slip on his sword. He watched the vile Uruk
lick its own blood from the dagger Aragorn had imbedded in its leg, then fling
the dagger at the man, who quickly raised his sword and swung it like a bat,
knocking the dagger aside. Rising, Aragorn fought the Uruk
again, this time delivering what should have been a killing blow, but the Uruk simply growled and pulled himself onto the man's
sword. Aragorn frowned, than ripped the sword free, swinging a mighty blow that
relieved the Uruk of its head. And just in time too.
His energy spent, he barely made it to Boromir's side
before he collapsed to the ground beside the man.
But he
quickly forgot his own injury as he took in the tree deeply imbedded Uruk arrows in Boromir's flesh.
"No!" He cried.
Struggling
to speak, but urgent with need to deliver his message, Boromir
said, "They took the little ones."
Their
conversation was quiet, but earnest and full of sorrow, but the two who slowly
approached from the rear could not hear it. Legolas arrived and looked on, his
eyes no longer full of mirth and glee, but pain and sorrow. Tears welled up,
but dared not fall. He had not been close to the man of Gondor,
but he hated death as much as the next being and it pained him to see the
shaking shoulders of Aragorn as the man leaned forward and kissed the man's
forehead.
Standing,
shaking lightly in pain and sorrow, Aragorn looked up with teary eyes and said
quietly, but with conviction, "They will look for his coming from the
White Tower, but he will not return."
Regaining
his senses, Aragorn gripped his shoulder and winced. Legolas was at his side in
an instant, but didn’t act immediately. His eyes were riveted to the now
lifeless body of Boromir. He has faced death before,
but to the immortal Elf the death of an ally was quite different from the death
of a foe. And death always pained him. The pain shown in his
eyes as he met those of Aragorn and reached for the man's shoulder.
"We
need to remove this and bind it, Aragorn," he whispered, not sure of his
voice at the moment. Gimli had reached them now,
still limping, but holding out well. Legolas was the only one who appeared
unscathed, but that didn't convince Aragorn he was all right. "Okay, but only if you consent to let me look you over
too."
A small
grimace crossed Legolas' face, confirming for the man that something was amiss.
His eyes immediately looked the Elf over and came to rest on Legolas' left
forearm where a leather bracer should have resided. There was none. And the
tunic and flesh were badly torn from his arrow fletchings.
"It is fine, Aragorn. I will bind it later."
Aragorn
suddenly screeched and jerked away. Legolas held the arrow, smiling. "You
could have warned me, Legolas!"
"Why,"
the Elf said, "it would have hurt more if you had been anticipating
it."
Aragorn
scowled and grabbed Legolas' arm. The Elf's eyes widened in shock as the man
quickly whipped out a bandage and began to wrap it around the Elf's forearm.
"What are you doing?" Legolas said, trying to pull away.
"I
don't want you bleeding all over me when you tend my wound."
Legolas
laughed and looked at Aragorn's tunic. "Why? You're full of blood
anyway."
Gimli cleared his throat. "I'm glad you can joke right now, but
please...our companion lies dead at our feet. Let us tend our wounds and lay
him to rest."
Both
Legolas and Aragorn looked down at that, mortified
that they had been joking so soon after Boromir's
death. But Gimli hrumphed. "Sorrow's best remedy is glee."
They all
nodded, pondering this, and quickly finished tending wounds. Then, they set
about the sad task of sending off a proud warrior, laying him inside one canoe
with his weapon, his split horn, and the weapons of the foes he had conquered
in battle, a fitting send off for a proud warrior.
THE END