Boromir's Journey Amon Hen to Minas Tirith

CHAPTER TWELVE -- At The Turn of the Tide

AUTHOR"S NOTE -- the remainder of this story (another thirty chapters or so) is posted at Fanfiction. net under author name Majorbee. i've done that due to lack of reviews here and hearing from some readers that procedure was too cumbersome to leave them here. That puzzles me, but there you go. Since posting at FF net i've had over a hundred reviews in a week on just the first few chapters. Much more rewarding.
Again, the story is also available in print email cgolledge@bigpond.com re same or please just email what you think of the story!
Carolyn

“This is –“ Boromir began, and then stopped, embarrassed by the powerful relief, the emotion that swamped him. “I am glad.” He managed to say, then looked away to blink the tears from his eyes.

“As am I to see you looking so much recovered,” Gandalf said. As Boromir turned back, the wizard added mischievously, “It seems you and I have this in common, coming back from the dead – or so everyone is saying.”

“Yes,” Boromir returned the smile. “But yours must surely be by far the more exciting tale.”

“Perhaps,” Gandalf winked. “But then I’ve not yet heard how you and Gimli survived the river rapids.” He turned and tilted his head from Pippin to the door. “Fetch that soup, would you, Pippin? “ The hobbit nodded and hurried out.

“There were some interesting moments on the river,” Boromir said as he watched Pippin leave. Gandalf had sent him from the room for other reasons than a bowl of soup. There was grim talk ahead. “Nothing to compare with battling a Balrog, I’m sure.” Gandalf drew a chair close to the bed and sat down. “How is it possible?”

“It is not,” Gandalf said without emotion. “Those who say I returned from the dead, do, in fact, have the right of it. I died defeating him, Boromir, then I was sent back.”

Boromir knew his mouth had dropped open, but didn’t seem able to close it. Finally he said, “Then, there is truth in Faramir’s belief that some great power seeks to aid us even as the dark power aids Sauron?”

“There is indeed such a power, though it cannot help us directly. And as for Sauron, he himself is the darkness. If he succeeds he will embody all that is evil. There will be none greater. Or more terrible.”

Boromir nodded grim agreement. “Tell me, where are Aragorn and Legolas? Did you meet with them before coming here?”

“I did, and they are now at Edoras.” Gandalf leaned forward a little and said with a smile, “We first met in Fangorn. I rather startled them at first for they drew weapons against me, mistaking me for Saruman.”

“I may understand that. For you have… changed.”

“Yes, I am no longer Gandalf the Grey, I am now The White Wizard and Saruman no longer has any power.”

Boromir gasped and his eyes grew wide with surprise and joy. “You have defeated Saruman? This is news! We need no longer fight on two fronts?”

“Well, I like that!” Pippin put in cheerily as he entered the room. Garad followed, aiding him by carrying a large tray laden with steaming bowls and plates. “You’ve gone and told him that tale when you promised you’d leave it for me!”

“I have not told the tale, as you put it, Master Took, but have said only that Saruman’s power is no more. I would not dare think of depriving you of the honour you and Merry earned so cleverly and bravely in defeating him.”

“Oh.” Pippin blushed as he put the smaller tray atop a low table. “Well, that’s all right then.”

“Merry and Pippin took part in the battle against Saruman?” Boromir gaped from hobbit to wizard.

“They did more than take part,” Gandalf said, “they led the way.”

Garad, approaching the bed with a large bowl of steaming soup, chuckled at his friend’s thunderstruck expression. “Here, eat, you’ll need it if these shocks are to continue.”

Pippin was less kind. “If you’re going to leave your mouth hanging open, like that Boromir,” he said. “You might as well eat your soup while I tell you all about it.”

Boromir laughed. “You have lost none of your cheek! And I am glad of it for without it I daresay you would not have survived.”

“Probably not!” Pippin agreed happily. He sat on the footlocker and began devouring his own soup and bread.

“Though how our stalwart hobbit hero can talk with his mouth full may prove the greater task.” Gandalf put in.

“Mmm… hmppfh…ggmt,” Pippin attempted, his cheeks rounded and full as he chewed quickly.

“What was that?” Gandalf asked.

Pippin swallowed a huge mouthful and said, “This food is excellent. Almost as good as Saruman’s horde – if you’ll pardon me, Boromir. You may tell the story, then, Gandalf.”

Gandalf gave an ironic bow from his seated position. “I’m sure you will correct me if I go wrong.” Pippin nodded and waved a hand that held a large wedge of cheese.

“Here,” Garad said, placing the tray on the bed at Boromir’s side. “Eat, my Captain. Trust me, when I heard this tale from your little friend, I needed all my strength to last the distance.”

“Then I’m glad Gandalf will tell it this time!” Boromir smiled, but his eyes were fixed fast on the food. He hadn’t realised it but he was ravenously hungry. He took a spoonful of soup, found it hot and flavoursome, just what his empty stomach needed. He sat and listened, ever more amazed, as Gandalf revealed the events of the past ten days, of Aragorn and Legolas' incredible chase across the Plains of Rohan, of Merry and Pippin’s courageous escape and their meeting with Treebeard. And finally of the victories at Isengard and Helm’s Deep.

“You have become quite the warrior, Pippin!” Boromir said at last. “You and Merry both. I am proud of you.”

“You taught us well,” Pippin said. “Though we didn’t get much chance to use our swords.”

“There is always much more to battles than sword fighting,” Boromir said, and looked to share that comment with Garad only to find the man had again left the room.

“I asked Garad earlier to take some exercise and see what news he might find for us,” Gandalf explained.

“Oh.” Boromir nodded and turned back to Pippin. “The most important part is the planning before the battle even starts. And there you did better than any General could have managed, leading the Ents to attack even though they had at first declined to take part.”

“I only asked Treebeard to take us south,” Pippin said modestly.

“When you could instead have been carried safely closer to home,” Boromir said softly. “It was done with great valour, Pippin.” The hobbit blushed and looked away. “It seems I return home none too soon if I am to take part in the battles that yet lie ahead.” He looked to Gandalf. “Pippin tells me Minas Morgul is active again?”

“Yes.” Gandalf nodded. “And I fear the coming battle will be unlike any attack Gondor has as yet faced. Tens of thousands, possibly over a hundred thousand, will be sent to break the walls of Minas Tirith. They have new engines of war.”

Boromir felt the strength and warmth he had gained from the hot food suddenly drain from him. “One hundred thousand!”

“Or more. And they bring trolls and Haradhrim with Mumakil to their command. I believe they will be at the Anduin banks in three days or less.”

Boromir drew a sharp breath that caused a stab of pain. He pressed a hand to his ribs and said, thinking out loud, “The garrison at Osgiliath will fight a rear-guard action but must soon fall back to Minas Tirith. The five hundred at Cair Andros should be recalled to reinforce them if they have not already. We must recall our border patrols, too, concentrate all our defences on the city.” He looked up at Gandalf. “Saruman is defeated, and Rohan has won victory, secured their own lands?” Gandalf nodded, watching keenly as Boromir resumed duty as Gondor’s Captain-General. “Then we will call for their aid. Has my father yet sent word to Theoden King?”

“No. And now I fear it is too late for a rider to carry such a message so far.”

“Then we must light the beacons!”

Gandalf lowered his eyes. “Yes. I advised such but Denethor refused to do so.”

Boromir stared, then shook his head in annoyance and disgust. “He has ever been mistrustful of you, Gandalf. And I offer my apology for his… brusque manner.” He sighed and added, “And indeed for my own in times past. I will speak to my father, and convince him of our need.”

“I thank you, Boromir,” Gandalf said. “And I fervently hope Denethor will heed your word.”

“I would not hold to hope. He will not be happy with either of his sons when he learns how The Ring was lost to him.” Gandalf’s head came up sharply, his blue eyes blazing keen attention. “You have not yet spoken with Faramir?” Boromir asked.

“I was told he was not within the city.”

Boromir muttered a half-voiced curse and rubbed a hand over his face. “I’d forgotten. Father sent him back to Osgiliath. Gimli went with him. I should have thought to tell you immediately – you too, Pippin. Sam and Frodo were in Osgiliath just yesterday morning.”

“You’ve seen Frodo and Sam?” Pippin grabbed at Boromir’s arm, his face alight with joy.

“Yes,” Boromir smiled. “I believe both are well, though I did not see or speak with Frodo directly.” Boromir met Gandalf’s surprised gaze. “I am afraid my brother also was – for a short time – drawn by the Ring’s power. He had Frodo and Sam brought to Osgiliath from Ithilien under guard.”

“But he let them go?”

“Yes, that same day. Though,” Boromir frowned, “I don’t know what happened to change his mind. I was talking to Sam, then the Nazgul appeared… and I’m sorry Gandalf, but nothing is clear to me from then until its departure. When next I regained my senses, Faramir came to me. I begged him to let Sam and Frodo go.” Boromir felt his tired face settle into a fond smile. “But he had already done so. All I can tell you that may be of use is that Sam said Gollum is leading them, that they had reached as far as The Black Gates before being forced to accept Gollum’s plan to seek another way, a secret way. They were on their way there through Ithilien, when Faramir found them.”

“Gollum!” Pippin exclaimed. “The creature we first saw following us in Moria?”

Boromir nodded then looked back apologetically to Gandalf and gave a heavy sigh. “I am sorry – and frustrated myself -- that my memory is so uncertain.”

“I think you have done very well to remember so much,” Gandalf waved away the apology with a smile, “given how severely you were wounded, and that your later – treatment – so dangerously increased the effects of both Saruman’s and the Nazgul’s poisons.”

“It did?” Boromir blinked surprise, then said, “I know that I owe both you and Pippin great thanks for your aid last night, but I had not known the poisoning had worsened.”

“Gandalf healed you,” Pippin said proudly.

“I thank you.” Boromir smiled. “And I am now doubly glad that you have been returned to us, Gandalf.”

“It is Garad you must thank,” Gandalf said. “It was he who came for us and allowed my entrance where your father would not.”

“When I get my legs under me again,” Boromir said intently, “it will be my pleasure to buy him several tankards of Gondor’s finest.

“How soon will it be before Faramir returns to the city?” Gandalf asked. “He may have more knowledge of Frodo’s plans?”

“Yes, or so I believe. As for his return – that will be tomorrow if father heeds my advice that the garrison must be withdrawn.” Boromir rubbed thoughtfully at his now longer beard as it made him itch. “I do remember warning Sam they must not trust Gollum, but apparently Frodo feels they would lose their way without him.” He sighed. “I had suggested we might hold Gollum here, and try to find some other way to help them. A map, perhaps.”

“No map, no matter how detailed, could hope to equal Gollum’s knowledge.” Gandalf frowned. “You say Faramir was drawn to The Ring?”

“No more than was I.” Boromir glanced guiltily at Pippin. “Before I tell you aught else of my brother, there is something I must say of my own actions at Amon Hen that I doubt Aragorn will have revealed.” He looked away, bracing himself to see disappointment in Pippin’s eyes. “I tried to take The Ring from Frodo.” Pippin drew a sharp breath, and Boromir flinched. “I make no excuse but can only vow that I will make good for my failure.“

“Failure!” Pippin cried, his voice breaking to a half-sob. “You have never failed us! I will not hear it!”

“Nor will I,” Gandalf said firmly. “You are correct -- Aragorn did not speak of this matter, and that alone tells all. He deemed there was no lasting harm. He wears your forearm guards, Boromir. When I asked he told me their owner was one who had at last convinced him where his future lies. He wanted The White Tree to bear witness to his oath of protection for Minas Tirith, and for all Gondor’s people. Many of us have failed with Aragorn where you have succeeded, Boromir. ”

Boromir drew a great shaking breath of relief and gratitude. “I thank you for your ready forgiveness.”

“There is little to forgive,” Gandalf said softly and patted Boromir’s arm. “And much for which we must thank you.”

Boromir nodded. “I can only give you what answers Sam gave me when I asked about my brother. Faramir at first suspected Sam and Frodo were spies. But it was from Gollum that he learned of The Ring. He then sought to deliver them to my father.” Gandalf sat back to hiss a sharp breath in alarm. “You must understand, I was asked -- ordered -- to return to Minas Tirith with The One Ring. This my father named “A mighty gift.” Faramir, knowing I preferred to stay with my men, offered to go to Rivendell in my place. Our father then taunted him, saying Faramir wished only for the chance to “prove his quality.” Those were the very same words Sam repeated from Faramir’s lips when I asked why Faramir had not let them go.”

Gandalf sat quietly a moment, staring down at the floor, Pippin watching him uneasily. “There is much I now see more clearly,” Gandalf said slowly. “And much it seems that Denethor has seen, and still sees that he perhaps should not.” Gandalf sighed and looked again to Boromir. “There yet remains the puzzle of why – with such strong motive to do otherwise—Faramir suddenly allowed Frodo and Sam to go free.”

“Yes,” Boromir said. “And my brother risks his life in so doing for our father has created a new law that threatens death to any who release travellers to our lands without his first questioning them.”

“But –“Pippin began. “Faramir is his son!”

Boromir gave Pippin a sorrowful regard. “My father has ever been without show of love for my brother, though I believe it is there, deep within. Still, I had Faramir promise that he would allow me to take responsibility for the lack of this mighty gift.” He shrugged and winced as his broken shoulder grabbed at him. “It is true enough.”

“You grow weary,” Gandalf said. “I did not intend that we should keep you talking so long, though I am grateful for all you have revealed. Most grateful. If you would rejoin the fight, you must take all the rest you can find at least for this day.”

“I will rest,” Boromir nodded. “But only until nightfall. Then I must talk with my father and see Minas Tirith prepare for battle.”

“Good. I hope he will listen.” Gandalf stood and turned to Pippin. . “I do not think I have the patience to wait until tomorrow to speak with Faramir and hear more news of Frodo and Sam. And see Gimli again. What about you, Peregrin Took? How would you like another – much shorter ride, atop Shadowfax?”

“To Osgiliath?” Pippin said. “That’s easy after a such a long ride from Edoras.”

“Indeed it is,” Gandalf chuckled. “Come along then.”

“Gandalf,” Boromir called. “Tell Faramir that he is to prepare to withdraw by morning. He is not to wait for father’s order.”

Gandalf raised an eyebrow but nodded agreement. “I will tell him.”

“And if you would, please have Garad return to me.”





Garad soon arrived to return to his guard post and refuse to listen to anything Boromir said unless he first got some rest. Boromir scowled but gave up and lay back, knowing that he had seldom felt so bone-weary. Blood loss was the cause and only extended rest and plenty of good food was the cure. He had time for neither. He closed his eyes but found that despite his weakness and exhaustion, sleep would not come to him. There was simply too much that needed doing. And needed doing urgently. He muttered a curse and pushed himself up again to sit with his back to the bed-board.

“Most people sleep lying down,” Garad said mildly from his seat in the growing shadows by the door.

“I can’t sleep.”

Garad got to his feet. “Gandalf thought you might not. He left with me some of that potion he gave you last night and told me to give it to you , if –“

“I’m not drinking any more of that! I have no intention of sleeping away another day!”

“Just a drop, he said, and –“

“Garad,” Boromir growled warning. “Leave it. If nothing is done about this city’s defences we will all of us have an eternity of sleep. Now, please, help me up. If my father won’t come to me, I will go to him!”

Garad shook his head. “And I was under the mistaken impression that you cared if I lived or died.”

Boromir frowned. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“You would have me remove you from your sick bed, against your father’s orders. You would have me cause the further tearing of your wounds so that you may bleed -- most incriminatingly – all over me. Denethor will have me hanged before the night is out.”

“I will not bleed all over you! And it is I who would disobey!”

Garad simply shook his head. “I’m more afraid of the wizard than I am of you. He said he’d turn me into a toad if I didn’t see you rested.”

“He said no such thing!”

“Something like that.” Boromir threw back the covers and Garad hastily added, “I’m sure I can make Denethor come here to you.” Boromir looked up at him skeptically. “I’ll tell him you’re feverish again and you’re muttering something about a ring.”

Boromir, set to swing his legs from the bed, stopped. “That might work.”

“Of course it will work. When have I ever failed you?”

Boromir grinned. “Never. Go on then. But if you’re not back in the hour –“

“Threats. Threats. Everyone is threatening me these days,” Garad muttered as he left the room.

Boromir snorted a laugh and lay back, finding much to his surpirse that he might now be able to sleep. Just for a moment.


AUTHOR"S NOTE For the remaining 30 chapters of this story please email me at cgolledge@bigpond.com or find my work at Fanfiction.net under pen name majorbee. The complete story is also available in print book form with art work contact me for details. Thanks, Carolyn