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About a month ago, I shared in my journal that I had decided to take part in a Finish-a-thon, to help push me towards finishing some of the stories I had begun writing, but which had stalled along the way. People voted on which of my tales or plot bunnies should be the one I concentrate on, and my alternate universe tale Lords of Gondor won the poll. I was glad about this, because it is the one that I felt needed the biggest push for me to get working on it again -- particularly since I haven't written anything new for it in more than a year!! :-( I committed to writing 8,000 words on this tale by August 13th.
Since then, I have been twiddling my thumbs and wasting time, so I now have to scramble to keep from failing in my goal. However, the last few days have been well-spent getting back on track and I have at last broken the bonds of writer's block and have produced a chapter, wheee!!
I'm sure everyone has forgotten where we were and what was happening, so if you are interested in some review, just click on the Lords of Gondor tag below, and that will bring you the rest of the chapters, plus other LoG related posts. In addition, I thought it would be good to also include the final portion of the last chapter along with this new one, since this chapter picks up where that one left off.
Enjoy!
Chapter 45 (portion)
...Gwaeron looked up as the outside door opened and a group of men trooped into the common room. They were covered in grime and soot, weariness showing in every line of their faces, but they had also the look of men satisfied with a job well done.
He gestured to a jug on the table.
"There is water for drinking, drawn fresh from the spring not long ago. I expect you are in need of it, after your long labor."
"Long it was, indeed!" exclaimed Larnach, reaching for the jug and dashing water into a cup. "Long and hot, for the embers still smoldered and had to be pulled down before fresh wood and kindling could be set."
"Would that a guard was still stationed here, as in days of old!" sighed Thorvel, grabbing the water jug from Larnach. He poured out several more cups and passed them around to the other men who gathered around. "Then we would have had help, and then some! The task of setting wood afresh for the beacon fire was almost too much for us few men!"
"I was afraid of that," frowned Gwaeron. "I should have aided you..."
"Nay! Mind not my complaining!" interrupted Thorvel. "Your task was here, along with Hirvegil, securing the waypost and caring for the horses that must be kept at the ready for Gondor's errand riders. We managed well enough! Urthal and Talagen lent a hand towards the end, as well, before they took up their duties manning the beacon for the next shift."
"Indeed, we managed well, though we were few," Iarnen said. "Even so, it took the better part of two days to accomplish it, and this evil murk from Mordor made it well-nigh impossible to work in the gloom."
The men nodded solemnly.
"It weighs on the heart, and makes heavy work an even greater burden," said Radhruin, with a shake of his head.
"But the task is completed, no?" queried Gwaeron. "Then all is well! We must keep the beacon ready to be fired if another signal comes -- though I do not expect one. Should Rohan answer Gondor's call for aid, it would be unwise to send word of it by beacon fire. That would do little to keep secret the news of their riding."
"Well, at least this wretched darkness will aid them in that," commented Thorvel wearily. "The Riders of Rohan will travel as secretly as Orcs in this murk -- though I imagine Orcs will welcome it, while Rohan will be no less burdened by it than are we."
"I imagine that is the purpose of this brown fog," Radhruin said wryly. "Those who oppose Mordor are unmanned by it, while Orcs are strengthened. No doubt they can see keenly in the darkness, while we can barely see our hand before our faces! The vermin could be upon us before ever we saw them coming!"
"We will have to trust to Hirvegil's keen ears, then, since eyes will not avail us," Iarnen interjected. "Perhaps the drummers in the forest will also give warning of an approaching enemy. They say those who dwell secretly there are no friends to the Orcs."
"Let us hope that what they say is true," sighed Gwaeron, "for when war breaks upon us, we shall have need of such help along the Road."
"Rohan will come, will they not?" Larnach asked, his face creased with worry. "Surely they will come soon. The errand rider Hirgon should have reached there by now..."
"Indeed, he and those who rode with him may even now be returning -- with news to put hope back into our lord Steward's heart, if I know anything about Rohan's commitment to our alliance," replied Gwaeron. "We may see Hirgon stop here to change horses as he did before, or we may not. We are not the only waypost along the Western Road, after all."
"If they return with news of Rohan's riding, then that will indeed put the heart back into the lord Denethor," nodded Iarnen. "He and all Gondor will need such hope, after the word Hirgon brought us of the landing of black Corsair ships, and the rumors of the loss of Boromir."
At the mention of Boromir, there was a collective sigh of sorrow from the men present.
"I was glad Hirgon spoke to us of Boromir," said Gwaeron sadly. "He was reluctant at first, for the news of his likely death is not being circulated widely as yet -- but when I told him Boromir had changed horses here on his way north and that we knew of his errand, Hirgon relented."
"I, too, was glad to hear the news, though it was news of woe," Larnach agreed. "It is hard knowing that we were likely the last in Gondor to see him living!"
"A dubious honor, to be sure!" Iarnen sighed.
They were all silent for a long moment, then Gwaeron stirred.
"Now that you have wetted your dry throats a bit, go have a wash," he said, rising to his feet. "You are in sore need of it! While you see to that task, I shall go see what is keeping Hirvegil. It is some time now since he went to tend the horses..."
***
Gwaeron tread carefully as he crossed the area between the waypost buildings and the enclosure where the horses were tethered. The day's light showed only dully through the thick gloom, as if it were the twilight of evening instead of midmorning. He could not see the broad Road below, except dimly, and the beacon hill of Nardol that towered above and behind him was lost in heavy shadow.
"Hirvegil!" he called out as he approached the picket. "Is all well with you?"
Even as he spoke, he saw Hirvegil ahead of him, standing among the horses. Gwaeron was surprised to see that he was not alone. A tall man stood with him, dressed as one from Rohan.
"All is well, indeed!" answered Hirvegil, drawing the stranger with him as he moved forward to greet Gwaeron.
"Gwaeron, this is Guthwald, a scout of Rohan; he comes with amazing news! Look!"
Hirvegil reached out and pressed a small object into Gwaeron's hand. Gwaeron peered at it closely and gasped at what he saw.
"This... this is Lord Boromir's signet ring!" he stammered. "How does it come here? Could it be... could it possibly be that you have news of him?"
Guthwald bowed, his hand to his breast.
"I have news," he said solemnly. "Truth be told, I have seen him; it is he who gave this token into my hand, and I bring it as proof that the words I bear from him are truth indeed. I have been sent for horses to bring him hither, for he goes on foot across the plains of Anórien. Being wounded, he can only go slowly, and horses would be a great boon to him. He intends to stop here with you until Théoden King comes, and then accompany him to Mundberg."
Gwaeron stared at Guthwald and the now-grinning Hirvegil, stunned into silence at the news he had just heard.
"He lives, then?" A look of cautious hope spread slowly across his face. "But... you say he is wounded..."
"Sorely wounded, though he is mending. Weakness plagues him still."
"And he is coming here? Why, I can scarcely believe this news! And yet, I would have believed you without this token, for the Men of Rohan are renowned in Gondor as truthsayers!"
Guthwald bowed at the courtesy.
"I would hear the rest of this tale!" Gwaeron exclaimed. "How you came to be in Anórien, how you met our lord, as well as further word of King Théoden and the coming of the Riders -- but that full tale can wait until it can be told before the others. Come inside, now, Guthwald. Take food with us and be refreshed; share with us all you can of Boromir before you must be away. We will provide you with all you need to bring our lord home to us -- the sooner, the better!"
*****
Chapter 46
The men of Gondor sat stunned and silent as Guthwald related his tale of meeting Boromir upon the plains of Anórien, and of Boromir's plans to join them at the Nardol waypost to await the coming of the Rohirrim. Such news this was! That Rohan was bringing an army to Gondor was marvelous enough, though it was not unexpected news to those who trusted in the alliance with their close neighbor. These men had little doubt aid would come from that direction; it simply remained to be seen how many riders Rohan would bring to the battle.
But the Captain-General alive? In the face of all the rumors of him dead and lost forever? This was news indeed, and it stopped their mouths with astonishment.
"How soon can he be here?" asked Larnach eagerly, the first of the men to find his voice.
Guthwald considered the matter carefully.
"With a fresh horse and leading mounts, I can return in a matter of a few hours, in spite of this troubling darkness from Mordor. I know the way now, even in the dark, and can travel at a good pace. I imagine my captain Eadric and the others will mount and ride here directly; Lord Boromir seems quite eager to be done with this leg of his journey, in spite of the need to rest due to his wounds."
The men laughed and nodded. This was the captain they knew -- disdainful of injury, always eager to press forward when a goal was in sight.
"Then they should be here by nightfall?" Gwaeron asked.
"Yes," replied Guthwald. "I guess it is now nigh on to midday; if I depart within the hour, I shall arrive soon enough for them to return before full night falls."
"That gives us plenty of time, then, to organize a proper welcome for the captain," announced Radhruin.
"Agreed!" answered Thorvel. "And a proper welcome includes food. We shall be feeding more mouths than usual, so we had best get to it. Though our fare here be simple, we shall make certain it is plentiful and filling!"
"But first we must see to Guthwald's needs," Gwaeron reminded them. "Bring more ale -- and a fresh loaf, with some cheese and apples. We will not let this bearer of good news return hungry to our lord. Speaking of apples and cheese, set aside a fair helping for Guthwald to take with him. Perhaps it will whet Captain Boromir's appetite for the best simple fare this waypost has to offer!"
***
Thorvel slowly stirred the hearty stew simmering on the hearth. Spooning a small portion into a bowl, he tested it, swirling it around in his mouth before swallowing. He gazed at the empty spoon, considering.
"Well?" asked Larnach impatiently. "How is it?"
"More salt, I think," replied Thorvel indistinctly, taking another mouthful of broth; this time he made certain to scoop a piece of meat and some vegetables onto his spoon.
Larnach grabbed the bowl and spoon from him, and handed it to Iarnen who stood nearby.
"I see what you are doing!" Larnach cried. "You take your share now on the pretense of tasting it, while your fellows go hungry, waiting for our lord to arrive!"
Thorvel grinned in reply. He added a pinch more salt to the stew, then covered it with a heavy lid.
"All it lacks now is Captain Boromir and his men to come bless it, and then we can all eat," he said. "Any sign of them as yet?"
"No sign. Hirvegil is on watch down below; he has the sharpest eyes -- though they will avail him little in this murk. But his keen ears are tuned to the sound of approaching horsemen; mark you, he will hail us as soon as they come."
The men sighed in unison, and resigned themselves to more waiting.
***
At last the signal came; a shout from below, the sound of horses being led to the picket, a murmur of new voices and Gwaeron's glad cry of greeting, the sturdy tread of a heavy boot upon the threshold -- and he was there.
Boromir was there before them, overpowering them with his presence as he had always done. He was thinner than they remembered, with a worn face that spoke of much suffering. He had obviously been wounded, and though he was now on the mend, he still held himself stiffly and moved with care. But the joy that came from him in waves belied his pain and weariness. The warm twinkle in his eye and the happy smile upon his face was what held their attention, and they could not look away.
"Am I a ghost that you stare at me so?" Boromir grumbled, trying to sound stern, but failing. "At your ease, my men! Give me a proper Gondorian greeting!"
The men cheered and ran to him, grabbing his hands to shake them heartily, gripping him by the arm and clapping his back so joyfully that Grithnir wondered if Boromir would be able to stand the pain of it. But his captain gave no sign of being disturbed by the jostling; rather, the warm welcome seemed to be giving him new strength, and Grithnir marveled to see Boromir's face grow calm and peaceful before his eyes.
And why not? he thought. This is what gives him strength -- being together with his men, knowing they love him as he loves them. It is as healing a balm as any Linhir himself ever applied to Boromir's wounds!
Grithnir smiled as he watched the men before him rejoicing and laughing with Boromir. He still recalled very clearly his own reunion with his captain, whom he once feared was lost beyond any hope of finding.
"Well met," he whispered. "Well met!"
***
Boromir lay at ease in his cot, resting but not sleeping. He almost felt as if he needed no sleep, it was so restful simply being among his own people once again. Nearby, he could hear Grithnir and the others talking quietly amongst themselves. The sound of their speech together, with the occasional lilt of Eadric's Rohirric voice, was extraordinarily comforting.
Lulled to sleep at last by the music of their talk, he slept more soundly than he had since first leaving Gondor to follow the elusive quest for the Sword that Was Broken. He was wandering no longer; he had returned to Gondor and was surrounded by his own -- and though his City was yet many miles away, he had no doubt whatsoever of his coming there once more.
***
Celeborn hesitated as he neared the bottom of the long flight of stairs which descended into the hollow where Galadriel's mirror stood in its enclosed garden. He could see her below him, leaning over the silver basin, her attitude still and intent. He tried never to interrupt her when she was gazing into the Mirror, but this night would have to be an exception -- his news could not wait. In any case, he knew he was expected, for the event he came to report had been foretold by her and her Mirror.
As he drew close, he again paused, for he could see a change in countenance that signaled the vision of something significant. Most often in these dark days, Galadriel's expression was one of sadness or stern resolve after time spent with the Mirror -- but this time he saw a smile upon her face and a lightening of expression that made his heart glad. Good things must be happening in the world outside, despite the darkness at hand.
He stepped forward, even as she rose swiftly and turned to meet him.
"Has it begun?" she asked.
"Soon," he replied. "Very soon. Our presence will be required. Haldir reports..."
He broke off what he had been about to say.
"Forgive me for interrupting if your viewing is not complete," he went on, concern for Galadriel in his voice. "My news is of great import, but there is time yet for you to finish here, if there is more to be seen -- particularly if what the Mirror reveals is something of hope and not simply more war and darkness."
"Nay," Galadriel answered gently. "I am finished here."
"What has your Mirror revealed to you, then?"
"Your own news is of great import, yet you will set it aside to hear mine?" Galadriel smiled fondly at Celeborn. "I understand! You are in need of encouragement, I deem. Then you shall have it! It does indeed grow dark in the outside world, and Sauron is moving. His hand will be heavy when it smites those who struggle to stand against him. Even so, hope remains and is growing stronger -- despite the darkness, light is not yet extinguished!"
Celeborn’s heart rose. "Tell me what you have seen."
"The Fellowship is scattered; yet in spite of this, they still press forward, each along his own path, braving the darkness. Minas Tirith is besieged, yet Rohan remembers its oath and comes to Gondor's aid. Elessar has received my messages and takes the path appointed for him; we shall see what comes of that choice! The Ringbearer’s path is not clear to me; I know only that his feet are set firmly upon the road of his own choosing, though it take him toward danger and dread."
"What of the other who was in danger?" Celeborn asked, unable to keep anxiety from his voice. "The son of Gondor? How goes it with him? Does he live?"
Galadriel stepped forward and took Celeborn's hand in hers. For a moment, his heart failed him, fearing some further calamity had befallen the Man who had captured his attention and concern -- but then she smiled, and at the sight of it, Celeborn felt an immense sense of relief flood his heart.
"He is safe, my husband!" Galadriel replied, pressing his hand lovingly. "He was at the very brink of disaster, but pulled back in time. Every step he now takes draws him further away from that precipice towards solid ground."
"His hope is restored, then?"
"Indeed! And if he continues upon the path he now treads, he will himself become a restorer of hope long lost."
"Ah! This pleases me!" exclaimed Celeborn. "I have not the same skill as you to discern thoughts and intentions, but even I could see the Man was troubled and torn, divided in mind and purpose. It distressed me to see his noble heart so darkened! If I could have gifted him peace, I would have done so."
"It was his part to find such a gift on his own," answered Galadriel quietly.
Celeborn nodded.
"Yes, it was. Now that it is within his grasp, he will be strengthened in both heart and mind, which can only be to the good of all. Gondor needs him now to be steadfast and firm in his resolve to oppose the Dark Lord, to defend his people with honor and not with the tools of the Enemy."
Galadriel laughed gently. "I see this son of Gondor has touched your heart as few Men have been able to do!"
Celeborn bowed in return. "It is so. I am glad he lives, and glad that the shadow of darkness which threatened him is no more."
Celeborn fell silent briefly, then lifted Galadriel's hand to his lips for a light kiss. "As for our own darkness..." he began.
"I perceive it is almost upon us," finished Galadriel. "Which is what you came to tell me, yes?"
"Yes, that is why I have come. I have word from Haldir; the Enemy draws nigh and will attack soon. We are needed at the border, for the defense of the Golden Wood begins. The Dark Lord has sent a powerful force against us, and it will take a strong hand to turn them back."
"The Dark One is powerful, indeed," Galadriel declared, "but the Lord of the Golden Wood and his Lady have not yet revealed their full strength. I think we shall give him something to fear. Let us show them that strength and turn back the shadow which threatens us!"
"Yes!" agreed Celeborn. "Let us go, then. It is long since I took part in such a conflict, but I am ready now -- ready to do battle!"
Thanks for reading! You can expect several more chapters in the next month, since I really do not intend to fail in my attempt to write 8,000 more words on this tale. ;-)
**
Since then, I have been twiddling my thumbs and wasting time, so I now have to scramble to keep from failing in my goal. However, the last few days have been well-spent getting back on track and I have at last broken the bonds of writer's block and have produced a chapter, wheee!!
I'm sure everyone has forgotten where we were and what was happening, so if you are interested in some review, just click on the Lords of Gondor tag below, and that will bring you the rest of the chapters, plus other LoG related posts. In addition, I thought it would be good to also include the final portion of the last chapter along with this new one, since this chapter picks up where that one left off.
Enjoy!
Chapter 45 (portion)
...Gwaeron looked up as the outside door opened and a group of men trooped into the common room. They were covered in grime and soot, weariness showing in every line of their faces, but they had also the look of men satisfied with a job well done.
He gestured to a jug on the table.
"There is water for drinking, drawn fresh from the spring not long ago. I expect you are in need of it, after your long labor."
"Long it was, indeed!" exclaimed Larnach, reaching for the jug and dashing water into a cup. "Long and hot, for the embers still smoldered and had to be pulled down before fresh wood and kindling could be set."
"Would that a guard was still stationed here, as in days of old!" sighed Thorvel, grabbing the water jug from Larnach. He poured out several more cups and passed them around to the other men who gathered around. "Then we would have had help, and then some! The task of setting wood afresh for the beacon fire was almost too much for us few men!"
"I was afraid of that," frowned Gwaeron. "I should have aided you..."
"Nay! Mind not my complaining!" interrupted Thorvel. "Your task was here, along with Hirvegil, securing the waypost and caring for the horses that must be kept at the ready for Gondor's errand riders. We managed well enough! Urthal and Talagen lent a hand towards the end, as well, before they took up their duties manning the beacon for the next shift."
"Indeed, we managed well, though we were few," Iarnen said. "Even so, it took the better part of two days to accomplish it, and this evil murk from Mordor made it well-nigh impossible to work in the gloom."
The men nodded solemnly.
"It weighs on the heart, and makes heavy work an even greater burden," said Radhruin, with a shake of his head.
"But the task is completed, no?" queried Gwaeron. "Then all is well! We must keep the beacon ready to be fired if another signal comes -- though I do not expect one. Should Rohan answer Gondor's call for aid, it would be unwise to send word of it by beacon fire. That would do little to keep secret the news of their riding."
"Well, at least this wretched darkness will aid them in that," commented Thorvel wearily. "The Riders of Rohan will travel as secretly as Orcs in this murk -- though I imagine Orcs will welcome it, while Rohan will be no less burdened by it than are we."
"I imagine that is the purpose of this brown fog," Radhruin said wryly. "Those who oppose Mordor are unmanned by it, while Orcs are strengthened. No doubt they can see keenly in the darkness, while we can barely see our hand before our faces! The vermin could be upon us before ever we saw them coming!"
"We will have to trust to Hirvegil's keen ears, then, since eyes will not avail us," Iarnen interjected. "Perhaps the drummers in the forest will also give warning of an approaching enemy. They say those who dwell secretly there are no friends to the Orcs."
"Let us hope that what they say is true," sighed Gwaeron, "for when war breaks upon us, we shall have need of such help along the Road."
"Rohan will come, will they not?" Larnach asked, his face creased with worry. "Surely they will come soon. The errand rider Hirgon should have reached there by now..."
"Indeed, he and those who rode with him may even now be returning -- with news to put hope back into our lord Steward's heart, if I know anything about Rohan's commitment to our alliance," replied Gwaeron. "We may see Hirgon stop here to change horses as he did before, or we may not. We are not the only waypost along the Western Road, after all."
"If they return with news of Rohan's riding, then that will indeed put the heart back into the lord Denethor," nodded Iarnen. "He and all Gondor will need such hope, after the word Hirgon brought us of the landing of black Corsair ships, and the rumors of the loss of Boromir."
At the mention of Boromir, there was a collective sigh of sorrow from the men present.
"I was glad Hirgon spoke to us of Boromir," said Gwaeron sadly. "He was reluctant at first, for the news of his likely death is not being circulated widely as yet -- but when I told him Boromir had changed horses here on his way north and that we knew of his errand, Hirgon relented."
"I, too, was glad to hear the news, though it was news of woe," Larnach agreed. "It is hard knowing that we were likely the last in Gondor to see him living!"
"A dubious honor, to be sure!" Iarnen sighed.
They were all silent for a long moment, then Gwaeron stirred.
"Now that you have wetted your dry throats a bit, go have a wash," he said, rising to his feet. "You are in sore need of it! While you see to that task, I shall go see what is keeping Hirvegil. It is some time now since he went to tend the horses..."
***
Gwaeron tread carefully as he crossed the area between the waypost buildings and the enclosure where the horses were tethered. The day's light showed only dully through the thick gloom, as if it were the twilight of evening instead of midmorning. He could not see the broad Road below, except dimly, and the beacon hill of Nardol that towered above and behind him was lost in heavy shadow.
"Hirvegil!" he called out as he approached the picket. "Is all well with you?"
Even as he spoke, he saw Hirvegil ahead of him, standing among the horses. Gwaeron was surprised to see that he was not alone. A tall man stood with him, dressed as one from Rohan.
"All is well, indeed!" answered Hirvegil, drawing the stranger with him as he moved forward to greet Gwaeron.
"Gwaeron, this is Guthwald, a scout of Rohan; he comes with amazing news! Look!"
Hirvegil reached out and pressed a small object into Gwaeron's hand. Gwaeron peered at it closely and gasped at what he saw.
"This... this is Lord Boromir's signet ring!" he stammered. "How does it come here? Could it be... could it possibly be that you have news of him?"
Guthwald bowed, his hand to his breast.
"I have news," he said solemnly. "Truth be told, I have seen him; it is he who gave this token into my hand, and I bring it as proof that the words I bear from him are truth indeed. I have been sent for horses to bring him hither, for he goes on foot across the plains of Anórien. Being wounded, he can only go slowly, and horses would be a great boon to him. He intends to stop here with you until Théoden King comes, and then accompany him to Mundberg."
Gwaeron stared at Guthwald and the now-grinning Hirvegil, stunned into silence at the news he had just heard.
"He lives, then?" A look of cautious hope spread slowly across his face. "But... you say he is wounded..."
"Sorely wounded, though he is mending. Weakness plagues him still."
"And he is coming here? Why, I can scarcely believe this news! And yet, I would have believed you without this token, for the Men of Rohan are renowned in Gondor as truthsayers!"
Guthwald bowed at the courtesy.
"I would hear the rest of this tale!" Gwaeron exclaimed. "How you came to be in Anórien, how you met our lord, as well as further word of King Théoden and the coming of the Riders -- but that full tale can wait until it can be told before the others. Come inside, now, Guthwald. Take food with us and be refreshed; share with us all you can of Boromir before you must be away. We will provide you with all you need to bring our lord home to us -- the sooner, the better!"
*****
Chapter 46
The men of Gondor sat stunned and silent as Guthwald related his tale of meeting Boromir upon the plains of Anórien, and of Boromir's plans to join them at the Nardol waypost to await the coming of the Rohirrim. Such news this was! That Rohan was bringing an army to Gondor was marvelous enough, though it was not unexpected news to those who trusted in the alliance with their close neighbor. These men had little doubt aid would come from that direction; it simply remained to be seen how many riders Rohan would bring to the battle.
But the Captain-General alive? In the face of all the rumors of him dead and lost forever? This was news indeed, and it stopped their mouths with astonishment.
"How soon can he be here?" asked Larnach eagerly, the first of the men to find his voice.
Guthwald considered the matter carefully.
"With a fresh horse and leading mounts, I can return in a matter of a few hours, in spite of this troubling darkness from Mordor. I know the way now, even in the dark, and can travel at a good pace. I imagine my captain Eadric and the others will mount and ride here directly; Lord Boromir seems quite eager to be done with this leg of his journey, in spite of the need to rest due to his wounds."
The men laughed and nodded. This was the captain they knew -- disdainful of injury, always eager to press forward when a goal was in sight.
"Then they should be here by nightfall?" Gwaeron asked.
"Yes," replied Guthwald. "I guess it is now nigh on to midday; if I depart within the hour, I shall arrive soon enough for them to return before full night falls."
"That gives us plenty of time, then, to organize a proper welcome for the captain," announced Radhruin.
"Agreed!" answered Thorvel. "And a proper welcome includes food. We shall be feeding more mouths than usual, so we had best get to it. Though our fare here be simple, we shall make certain it is plentiful and filling!"
"But first we must see to Guthwald's needs," Gwaeron reminded them. "Bring more ale -- and a fresh loaf, with some cheese and apples. We will not let this bearer of good news return hungry to our lord. Speaking of apples and cheese, set aside a fair helping for Guthwald to take with him. Perhaps it will whet Captain Boromir's appetite for the best simple fare this waypost has to offer!"
***
Thorvel slowly stirred the hearty stew simmering on the hearth. Spooning a small portion into a bowl, he tested it, swirling it around in his mouth before swallowing. He gazed at the empty spoon, considering.
"Well?" asked Larnach impatiently. "How is it?"
"More salt, I think," replied Thorvel indistinctly, taking another mouthful of broth; this time he made certain to scoop a piece of meat and some vegetables onto his spoon.
Larnach grabbed the bowl and spoon from him, and handed it to Iarnen who stood nearby.
"I see what you are doing!" Larnach cried. "You take your share now on the pretense of tasting it, while your fellows go hungry, waiting for our lord to arrive!"
Thorvel grinned in reply. He added a pinch more salt to the stew, then covered it with a heavy lid.
"All it lacks now is Captain Boromir and his men to come bless it, and then we can all eat," he said. "Any sign of them as yet?"
"No sign. Hirvegil is on watch down below; he has the sharpest eyes -- though they will avail him little in this murk. But his keen ears are tuned to the sound of approaching horsemen; mark you, he will hail us as soon as they come."
The men sighed in unison, and resigned themselves to more waiting.
***
At last the signal came; a shout from below, the sound of horses being led to the picket, a murmur of new voices and Gwaeron's glad cry of greeting, the sturdy tread of a heavy boot upon the threshold -- and he was there.
Boromir was there before them, overpowering them with his presence as he had always done. He was thinner than they remembered, with a worn face that spoke of much suffering. He had obviously been wounded, and though he was now on the mend, he still held himself stiffly and moved with care. But the joy that came from him in waves belied his pain and weariness. The warm twinkle in his eye and the happy smile upon his face was what held their attention, and they could not look away.
"Am I a ghost that you stare at me so?" Boromir grumbled, trying to sound stern, but failing. "At your ease, my men! Give me a proper Gondorian greeting!"
The men cheered and ran to him, grabbing his hands to shake them heartily, gripping him by the arm and clapping his back so joyfully that Grithnir wondered if Boromir would be able to stand the pain of it. But his captain gave no sign of being disturbed by the jostling; rather, the warm welcome seemed to be giving him new strength, and Grithnir marveled to see Boromir's face grow calm and peaceful before his eyes.
And why not? he thought. This is what gives him strength -- being together with his men, knowing they love him as he loves them. It is as healing a balm as any Linhir himself ever applied to Boromir's wounds!
Grithnir smiled as he watched the men before him rejoicing and laughing with Boromir. He still recalled very clearly his own reunion with his captain, whom he once feared was lost beyond any hope of finding.
"Well met," he whispered. "Well met!"
***
Boromir lay at ease in his cot, resting but not sleeping. He almost felt as if he needed no sleep, it was so restful simply being among his own people once again. Nearby, he could hear Grithnir and the others talking quietly amongst themselves. The sound of their speech together, with the occasional lilt of Eadric's Rohirric voice, was extraordinarily comforting.
Lulled to sleep at last by the music of their talk, he slept more soundly than he had since first leaving Gondor to follow the elusive quest for the Sword that Was Broken. He was wandering no longer; he had returned to Gondor and was surrounded by his own -- and though his City was yet many miles away, he had no doubt whatsoever of his coming there once more.
***
Celeborn hesitated as he neared the bottom of the long flight of stairs which descended into the hollow where Galadriel's mirror stood in its enclosed garden. He could see her below him, leaning over the silver basin, her attitude still and intent. He tried never to interrupt her when she was gazing into the Mirror, but this night would have to be an exception -- his news could not wait. In any case, he knew he was expected, for the event he came to report had been foretold by her and her Mirror.
As he drew close, he again paused, for he could see a change in countenance that signaled the vision of something significant. Most often in these dark days, Galadriel's expression was one of sadness or stern resolve after time spent with the Mirror -- but this time he saw a smile upon her face and a lightening of expression that made his heart glad. Good things must be happening in the world outside, despite the darkness at hand.
He stepped forward, even as she rose swiftly and turned to meet him.
"Has it begun?" she asked.
"Soon," he replied. "Very soon. Our presence will be required. Haldir reports..."
He broke off what he had been about to say.
"Forgive me for interrupting if your viewing is not complete," he went on, concern for Galadriel in his voice. "My news is of great import, but there is time yet for you to finish here, if there is more to be seen -- particularly if what the Mirror reveals is something of hope and not simply more war and darkness."
"Nay," Galadriel answered gently. "I am finished here."
"What has your Mirror revealed to you, then?"
"Your own news is of great import, yet you will set it aside to hear mine?" Galadriel smiled fondly at Celeborn. "I understand! You are in need of encouragement, I deem. Then you shall have it! It does indeed grow dark in the outside world, and Sauron is moving. His hand will be heavy when it smites those who struggle to stand against him. Even so, hope remains and is growing stronger -- despite the darkness, light is not yet extinguished!"
Celeborn’s heart rose. "Tell me what you have seen."
"The Fellowship is scattered; yet in spite of this, they still press forward, each along his own path, braving the darkness. Minas Tirith is besieged, yet Rohan remembers its oath and comes to Gondor's aid. Elessar has received my messages and takes the path appointed for him; we shall see what comes of that choice! The Ringbearer’s path is not clear to me; I know only that his feet are set firmly upon the road of his own choosing, though it take him toward danger and dread."
"What of the other who was in danger?" Celeborn asked, unable to keep anxiety from his voice. "The son of Gondor? How goes it with him? Does he live?"
Galadriel stepped forward and took Celeborn's hand in hers. For a moment, his heart failed him, fearing some further calamity had befallen the Man who had captured his attention and concern -- but then she smiled, and at the sight of it, Celeborn felt an immense sense of relief flood his heart.
"He is safe, my husband!" Galadriel replied, pressing his hand lovingly. "He was at the very brink of disaster, but pulled back in time. Every step he now takes draws him further away from that precipice towards solid ground."
"His hope is restored, then?"
"Indeed! And if he continues upon the path he now treads, he will himself become a restorer of hope long lost."
"Ah! This pleases me!" exclaimed Celeborn. "I have not the same skill as you to discern thoughts and intentions, but even I could see the Man was troubled and torn, divided in mind and purpose. It distressed me to see his noble heart so darkened! If I could have gifted him peace, I would have done so."
"It was his part to find such a gift on his own," answered Galadriel quietly.
Celeborn nodded.
"Yes, it was. Now that it is within his grasp, he will be strengthened in both heart and mind, which can only be to the good of all. Gondor needs him now to be steadfast and firm in his resolve to oppose the Dark Lord, to defend his people with honor and not with the tools of the Enemy."
Galadriel laughed gently. "I see this son of Gondor has touched your heart as few Men have been able to do!"
Celeborn bowed in return. "It is so. I am glad he lives, and glad that the shadow of darkness which threatened him is no more."
Celeborn fell silent briefly, then lifted Galadriel's hand to his lips for a light kiss. "As for our own darkness..." he began.
"I perceive it is almost upon us," finished Galadriel. "Which is what you came to tell me, yes?"
"Yes, that is why I have come. I have word from Haldir; the Enemy draws nigh and will attack soon. We are needed at the border, for the defense of the Golden Wood begins. The Dark Lord has sent a powerful force against us, and it will take a strong hand to turn them back."
"The Dark One is powerful, indeed," Galadriel declared, "but the Lord of the Golden Wood and his Lady have not yet revealed their full strength. I think we shall give him something to fear. Let us show them that strength and turn back the shadow which threatens us!"
"Yes!" agreed Celeborn. "Let us go, then. It is long since I took part in such a conflict, but I am ready now -- ready to do battle!"
Thanks for reading! You can expect several more chapters in the next month, since I really do not intend to fail in my attempt to write 8,000 more words on this tale. ;-)
**
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2010-07-16 07:04 pm (UTC)From:way to write a tale!
Thank you for setting us on the path
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Date: 2010-07-20 05:38 pm (UTC)From:When you said, "Lord Boromir seems quite eager to be done with this leg of his journey" I had to giggle a bit. I believe it is also Lin who longs for Boromir to reach his home at last - and now he shall!
It was a lovely chapter and it was nice to check in with the Golden Wood and learn that Celeborn saw Boromir's qualities and thought highly of him.