Live Journal FeedAny dialogue you recognize comes from The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring by Peter Jackson…but there is very little of is in this chapter. Please leave a review!
~Chapter 12: The Battle of Parth Galen~
Ron swept his oar through the water once more, his eyes fixed upon the monotonous landscape around him. High cliffs had soon overtaken the flat, tree-dotted land that had appeared beyond the borders of Lothlórien, and there had been little change in the scenery since then. For the past week they had been coursing down the Anduin, yet for all the hard work and the new blisters that had formed on Ron’s hands, they seemed to be getting nowhere.
His eyes were fixed on Frodo, who was two boats ahead. Why had the Council allowed so small a person to carry such a burden? Frodo was not all that special, if one thought about it. By rights, it belonged to Aragorn, but even he had no way of controlling it; he had admitted as much. Perhaps Gandalf could have carried it, powerful Wizard that he was, but he had not wanted it either.
Didn’t Gandalf say that he, Harry, and Hermione were able to use a different brand of magic? So might it be that their magic could be a means of keeping the Ring under control? As he looked at Frodo, he became convinced that he, Ron, should be the one to carry the Ring during the Quest.
He had wanted to voice this thought to Harry, but he could not bring himself to even speak to his friend. Not after what Harry had said about the Ring controlling him. Who was Harry to talk about avoiding being taken in by the Ring, when it was his own stupidity that had gotten them thrown into Middle-earth in the first place? Who was Harry to tell Ron that the Ring – a simple golden band – was controlling him, when Harry had been constantly drawn to the enchanted Mirror of Erised in their first year?
It was odd, though. Every time he nearly brought himself to apologize to Harry, a small voice in the back of his head would say, He doesn’t deserve anything from you. Well, that was logical enough, seeing as it was Harry’s fault for everything that had happened to them.
Ron’s thoughts drifted to Hermione. Lately, plans to wrest the Ring from Frodo’s possession had occupied his mind far more then she had. It would help, that sinister voice told him. Use the Ring, and she would see that you are truly powerful. It would draw her to you.
Back in Rivendell, he had finally admitted his feelings to himself, but didn’t know how to deal with them. Harry, of course, wasn’t that much help…That prat really doesn’t know anything, does he? the voice snickered in a tone worthy of Malfoy. The thought that such a traitorous idea could ever enter his head caused him to pause in his rowing, lift the paddle out of the water, and stare into the distance. The boat began to drift towards the left as Harry, who was sitting at the back, continued paddling.
“What is happening to me?” he whispered.
“What did you say, Ron?” Harry called out.
Ron felt his head whip around, felt a glare emanating from his eyes. “None of your business,” he snapped back.
Harry’s expression grew stunned. Hermione shot Ron a wordless, reproachful glance before shaking her head in disbelief.
Ron instantly regretted his words, but could not figure out what had driven him to speak like that. The voice in his head began to laugh softly, Good, good. Distance yourself from them, and they are less likely to meddle…
“Stop it!” Ron whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. He knew covering his ears would be no good.
Stop it? You know you want the Ring. The question is how to get it…
He chose to ignore the voice and began slicing his paddle through the water with more force than was necessary, drowning the words in the sound of water. He concentrated so fiercely on ignoring all voices that he did not hear Hermione talking to him.
“Ron? Ron!”
The last call came with a sharp poke in the back, bringing him back into reality. “Wh – What?”
“Look. Aragorn’s leading us to that small beach on the right…you have to direct the boat towards him.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Ron switched the paddle over to his left side and began paddling gently, so that the boat gradually turned towards the beachhead. He directed them onto the bank next to Aragorn’s boat, where Frodo and Sam were gathering their belongings.
“Where are we?” Hermione asked.
Aragorn gestured farther downriver. “Those are the Falls of Rauros; we can go no further in these boats. We shall rest here, at Parth Galen, until the sun sets.”
An hour later, the days of paddling began to catch up with the Fellowship. They lounged around the small cooking fire, exchanging quiet stories and eating the fish that Aragorn had caught and the now-sleeping Sam had prepared. Ron felt his eyelids closing and was ready to drift off to sleep when the voice gave him a nudge.
Look at them. They are too caught up in their conversation to see that one of their number has vanished.
Ron jerked back into wakefulness. What?
Your chance has come. You might not get another.
He glanced over to where Frodo had been sitting – and sure enough, the Hobbit was not there. His mind leapt into action, formulating a plan to corner the Hobbit.
He decided that the only weapon he would need would be his wand, but he left Galadriel’s knife belted at his side anyway. No need to go arousing suspicion among the other members of the Fellowship; he would be as surreptitious as possible. He would have the Ring before they knew it.
On the pretense of going to find more wood, Ron hurried into the forest. Where had Frodo gone? If only he could enlist Hermione’s help; she had absorbed all of Aragorn’s instructions regarding tracking and would know which path the Hobbit had taken immediately. But Hermione was not there, and he could hardly go back to ask for her help, so he chose a direction at random. The leaves swished under his feet as he walked with his wand tightly clutched in his hand.
Little did he know that another had entered the woods just behind him.
* * *
Harry was only half listening to Aragorn’s plan of action with his eyes partially closed. Exhaustion from the entire journey had begun to set in, and he welcomed the short rest. The crackling of the small fire made a pleasant sound in the background, accompanied by low conversation and the occasional clack of new branches being set into the flames.
“…hide the boats and continue on foot,” Aragorn said. “We approach Mordor from the north.”
“Indeed, the Enemy will not realize that we are approaching, for we might never reach our destination,” Gimli said dryly. “Or have you forgotten the Emyn Muil?”
“I have traveled through Middle-earth for a long time, Master Dwarf. I have wended my way through that maze of boulders.”
“But then there are the marshes. You have heard, certainly, of travelers vanishing without a trace?”
Harry kept his eyes closed, but he listened more closely in alarm.
The sound of short branches hitting the ground announced someone else’s presence, and Merry’s voice asked, “Where’s Frodo?”
Harry sat up straight and looked around. Sure enough, the Ringbearer was gone, and not only that…
“Where’s Ron?” Hermione said as she glanced around. Harry noticed that Ron’s sword was still lying with the rest of his belongings.
“And Boromir…” Sam muttered darkly, seeing the black-and-silver shield. “I’m betting they’re after Mr. Frodo, or the Ring at least.”
Aragorn’s voice rose. “Quick, they might not be themselves! We must hurry before they find him…but do not go unarmed!”
The camp turned into a flurry of action as they belted on their swords. Harry did not want to face Ron armed like this, especially when his friend had left his sword behind. He made sure his wand was in easy reach, hoping that the worst he would have to do was to Stun Ron or Boromir.
The eight members of the Fellowship started into the woods with Aragorn in the lead. “It seems that Frodo went this way,” he said, indicating the direction to his right. “Either Boromir or Ron followed him, but the other wandered off in that direction. Legolas, take the Pippin, Merry, and Gimli with you to follow this one’s trail. Sam, Harry, Hermione – come with me.”
* * *
Ron meandered through the trees, unsure of where he was. Frodo could not possibly have gone down this way, or he would have run into him by now. He kicked at the dead leaves and spun around, but everything looked the same to him. There was no way of knowing where the river was, nor any way of finding the others without making a noise. But if he called out, he might alert Frodo…
Nevertheless, a loud groan of frustration escaped him as he ran his hands through his hair and leaned against a tree trunk.
“Now what?” he asked aloud.
“Ron! Ron!”
He looked up to see Merry and Pippin running towards him, with Legolas and Gimli behind. “Where are the others?”
“Gone to look for Boromir,” Pippin panted. “And Frodo, by the looks of it,” he added, glancing around.
“We must return to the shore and find them,” Legolas said as Ron got to his feet. “I sense that danger is near; we must stay together.”
As if to punctuate his words, a black-fletched arrow flew past his head and landed, quivering, in the bole of the oak tree behind the Elf. The Elf sprang into action immediately, nocking an arrow and motioning the others to get behind him with a jerk of his head.
The Hobbits unsheathed their swords and Gimli hefted his axe as Legolas released the first arrow. Ron realized how incredibly vulnerable he felt as the nightmarish creatures streamed into the woods all around them; he had no sword, no weapon save for the strip of willow wood held in his right hand. There was no conscious thought as he raised his wand and set Stunning Spells at the first creature, then the next.
“Run! Up the hill!” Legolas instructed, firing a final arrow before turning to flee.
It was the only escape not blocked by the creatures. Ron pounded up the hill after the Elf, half dragging Merry and Pippin along. Gimli followed in his wake, occasionally turning to strike an enemy with his axe.
The Elf was too swift for Ron to keep up, and soon enough, he lost sight of Gimli as well. “Go,” he said to Merry and Pippin. “I heard them saying something about Halflings. Hide.”
“But…” Pippin spluttered.
“How can you order us around? The nerve!” Merry said.
“We’re older than you are! You ought to listen to us.”
Ron tried to give them the look he had often seen on Percy’s face as he said, “Look, I’m younger, but I’ve also got magic on my side. We’ll meet up later, got that?”
“But – ”
“Got that?” Ron repeated, fingering his wand. They eyed it warily before nodding and hurrying away.
Sighing, Ron noticed that the trees were thinner up ahead. That must be the shore. He breathed a sigh of relief and began to run, wanting to have the sword in his hands before he rushed into battle.
His fingers fumbled as he tried to belt on the sword. A sudden will to fight flared up in him as the sounds of battle reached his ears…but he still did not have the sword properly belted on. Swearing loudly, he jerked the sword out of the scabbard and ran into the forest once more.
The sounds seemed to be coming from the right, despite the fact that he had come from the left. Perhaps the creatures had changed their course? No matter what the case, the others were in danger. Harry…and Hermione…
The trees flashed by him as he ran, accompanied by the occasional broken stone formation. As he paused to catch his breath and glance around, he saw something that made his racing heart stand still.
There stood Hermione, alone, poised with an arrow ready to fly. The look of concentration upon her face told him that she was sure of her mark…but there, right behind her, was a huge orc-like creature, a black-fletched arrow nocked and pointing directly at Hermione’s back.
“HERMIONE!”
She sent her arrow into a creature’s chest before turning to face him, a quizzical expression on her face. And without thinking, Ron dashed towards her and tackled her to the ground just as the creature released its own arrow.
He was too concerned for her safety to worry about the pain in his right shoulder and any sort of propriety. As her stunned voice asked, “Ron, what – ” he pushed her back to the ground and spread out over her protectively.
The creature was leering at him, slowly drawing out another arrow, thinking Ron defeated. Ron saw that he had dropped the Elven sword as he was rushing towards Hermione. His thoughts flew to his wand…but pain lanced up his arm as he tried to draw it out. Then his fingers brushed the knife at his side.
Your aim will ever be true. Galadriel’s words echoed in his mind as his left hand jerked the knife loose and as he weighed it quickly in his palm.
There was no time. No time to think, no time to remember the fact that he had not thrown a knife like this before, much less with his left hand. No time to realize that if he missed, he and Hermione were as good as dead. The cool steel blade left his hand before he knew it.
He screwed his eyes shut, unwilling to watch, but heard a sickening sound that meant the dagger had hit its target. He opened his eyes to see the creature scowling at him, wrenching the knife from its leg. It threw the knife but the blood-coated blade flew short of Ron and Hermione. With a final grunt, it quickly limped away from them to catch up with its fellows, black blood dripping on the leaves in its wake.
The woods grew quieter, and Ron became aware of his position over Hermione. He leaped back to sit against the trunk of a tree – and pain seared through his shoulder once more. Hermione’s breath was shallow and quick as she reached out a trembling hand.
“Ron…why…?”
“I don’t want to see you hurt,” Ron said. He tried to keep his voice steady despite the arrow lodged deeply into his shoulder. “Hermione, I…”
“You’re wounded.” She placed her hand gently on his shoulder, and he bit back a cry.
“Yes…well, better me than you.”
“You think that just because I’m a girl, I can’t take it?” she asked, flaring up at once and drawing her hand back. “Is that it?”
“No!” he said vehemently. “I’m the one who wouldn’t be able to stand seeing you hurt – or dead.”
Their eyes met, and any last thoughts of laying hold of the Ring, any awareness of the battle surrounding them, was driven from Ron’s mind. Hermione was staring at him with a look of amazement, her eyes wide and her mouth half open in surprise. Ron extended his left arm and, leaning forward, pulled her into an embrace.
She stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed. A tentative hand came to rest at the back of his neck, and he looked down at her. A half-smile was playing around her lips, and, forgetting the arrow still embedded in his flesh, he leaned down to kiss her….
A loud call from a horn echoed through the woods, disrupting the moment. Ron’s head jerked up and he gazed around the woods.
“Boromir.”
“What?” Hermione’s eyes fluttered open.
“Boromir. He’s in trouble, that’s his horn. We have to go help him!”
With that, Ron let go of Hermione and stood up.
“Ron, the arrow – ”
“Come on!”
“You’re still hurt – “
“Never mind that.” Ron seized the shaft and snapped most of it off, leaving only a few inches protruding from his shoulder. He began to run in the direction of the sound, Hermione following at his heels.
“Where’s Harry?” he asked.
“I…don’t…know…” Hermione replied, breathing hard as she ran. “We were with Aragorn and Gimli…then Aragorn told us to wait while he looked somewhere else…and after he left the creatures came and we all got separated fighting them…”
“We’ll find them later. We’ve got to help Boromir now.”
“Ron, you don’t have any weapons!”
Ron looked down at his side. Sure enough, he had left both the dagger and his sword at the place where he had found Hermione. Swearing, he pulled out his wand.
“This’ll have to do. I’m probably better with it anyway – ”
Hermione let out a scream, and Ron whipped his head around. There were about ten creatures following them, leering as they approached…
“Fenarvis! ” Ron’s Blindfold Hex hit the one in the lead, and it blundered forward stupidly before tripping over its own feet. Two of the others stumbled over it and began to fight amongst themselves.
The other seven were at the base of the hill now. One of Hermione’s arrows struck down the smallest, and another thudded into the white hand painted on the chest of another.
“Go!” Hermione cried as another blast from Boromir’s horn echoed around them. “I can handle this!”
“But…”
“GO!”
I can’t leave her here…
“Are you really that thick, Ron?” she shouted as she took aim. “Find Boromir, I’ll be right behind you!”
Two more creatures had fallen already. Ron shot one last Stunner down the hill before turning to run.
He darted through the trees, listening for another call. One came from behind a hill to his right, and he scaled it quickly. His head was swimming, and his breath came in short, quick bursts. Glancing down at his shoulder, he saw a red stain surrounding the wound, coming through his leather jerkin. He would deal with that later.
A horrible sight met his eyes as he crested the hill. There was the same creature that had attempted to kill Hermione, taking careful aim at Boromir. The Horn of Gondor swung at the Man’s side as he slashed at the other creatures, unaware of the archer. Merry and Pippin were battling madly as well, stabbing with their short swords.
Ron could not cry out. He remained rooted to the spot, wanting to shout or cast a spell at the creature as it pulled the bowstring farther back. With a whistling sound, the arrow flew through the air and struck Boromir in the left shoulder.
The Man jerked backwards at the blow, a stunned expression forming on his face as he stumbled. Then, with a cry, he launched himself at the Orcs once more.
“No!” Ron shouted.
Several of the creatures turned to look at him, and he raised his wand. Hexes and jinxes flew from the tip as jets of light, striking down a few of them as Ron moved forward. He had to get a clear shot at the archer….There was a chance that Boromir might live; the wound was not serious….
Something struck him hard at the back of his head. He tottered for a moment before falling upon his knees, stars winking before his eyes. His wand flew from his hand to land somewhere out of his reach, and all at once, he felt incredibly helpless.
“Do not try to defeat the Uruk-hai,” a creature hissed at him. “Pitiful humans. You will watch your friend die!”
He was wrenched to his feet and his aching head was forcibly turned in Boromir’s direction. A second arrow had penetrated into the Gondorian’s stomach, and the archer was taking aim yet again. Boromir stood up unsteadily, swinging his sword wildly.
The third arrow took him in the chest. He sank to his knees, the horn at his side split in two.
Merry and Pippin had frozen in shock, but now they raised their swords and charged. Two of the Uruk-hai ran at them and picked them up easily, and the swords fell from their hands. Ron felt himself being lifted and thrown unceremoniously over an Uruk’s shoulder.
His vision was blurring, and he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. He raised his eyes one last time to see Hermione at the top of the hill, an expression of shock on her face as she stood rooted to the ground with her bow swinging uselessly at her side.
“Hermione…” he whispered.
Then the arrowhead that had lodged into his shoulder struck hard against the Uruk’s back, and he felt the world around him turn dark.
* * *
The creatures were running away, paying no heed whatsoever to Hermione as she watched Ron and the two Hobbits vanish into the woods. Bodies – all belonging to the creatures – were strewn about the clearing. Only one remained standing. An archer, one who was drawing his bow upon…
Aragorn came hurtling out of nowhere and slammed into the creature, making the arrow fly through the trees. Hermione snapped out of her reverie and sprinted towards Boromir, who had fallen on to his back.
“They…they took…” he tried to say.
“Don’t talk,” Hermione said, laying her bow on the ground and kneeling at his side. “Aragorn will fix you up…”
Boromir gave a weak laugh. “No. Not even magic can save me, though it may save Aragorn…” His eyes flickered to his right.
A clang resounded in the clearing. Hermione turned her head to see Aragorn trapped by the neck against a tree, the creature approaching him with a raised sword.
The Lothlórien bow lay uselessly at Boromir’s other side. Without a second thought, Hermione reached into her jerkin and pulled out her wand.
“Stupefy! ”
The creature tumbled to the ground as Aragorn pulled himself free. The Ranger raised his sword and stabbed the creature before hurrying to Boromir’s side.
“Are you hurt, Hermione?” he asked.
“I’m fine. But Boromir…” she gestured helplessly.
“No!” Aragorn said. His eyes scanned the three wounds, his expression becoming graver by the second.
”I have failed,” Boromir whispered.
“Be still,” Aragorn said.
Hermione could no longer bear to watch. She turned away and saw Legolas and Gimli approaching.
Boromir’s voice began to tremble. “It matters not. Even Hermione’s magic cannot save me. Hermione – ”
She faced Boromir once more. “Forgive me for not trusting you and your friends. You were ever true to the Quest, but I…”
“You did well, Boromir,” she replied, struggling to keep her own voice steady. “You are an honorable Man.”
“No. I failed in my duty. I tried to take the Ring from Frodo.”
“Frodo has chosen to continue the Quest alone,” Aragorn said. “You have already redeemed yourself, Boromir.”
“Yet I failed. The Uruks took three of the Fellowship captive despite my efforts.”
Hermione was unable to fully grasp this. “What?”
“Yes. Merry, Pippin, and Ron, all taken. You see? The world of Men shall fall, and Gondor shall be first!”
Hermione simply stared in disbelief.
“I will not allow it,” Aragorn said. “I swear to you, the White City shall never fall while I am alive. Our people are strong; they shall not lose heart.”
Boromir’s face lit up at these words. “Our people…our people…” His hand clasped Aragorn’s shoulder. “I would have followed you to any end, my brother…my captain…my King!”
He breathed a final sigh, an expression of joy still etched on his still features.
“Be at peace, Son of Gondor,” Aragorn whispered, bowing his head in respect.
Legolas and Gimli came closer as Aragorn stood. Hermione felt a tear trickling down her cheek and quickly wiped it away.
Aragorn gazed upward so that the sun illuminated his features. “They will look for his coming from the White Tower, but he will not return.”
They began to search for branches to make a stretcher, for Boromir was too heavy for them to carry. Hermione wandered to the other side of the clearing and selected a few fallen branches, gathering them into her arms. As she walked back, something caught her eye. It was a slender, smooth piece of wood, polished to a bright sheen…
Hermione dropped the wood she was carrying and ran to the object. Her fingers closed around the fallen wand, which felt still felt warm from lying in a patch of sun…
“Ron…” she whispered, as though speaking his name would make him appear at her side.
His words from earlier filled her mind. I wouldn’t be able to stand seeing you hurt – or dead.
Boromir’s words began to sink in, and a tear trickled down her cheek as she pictured Ron lying helplessly slung over an Uruk’s back. Where were they taking him? He was weak, he needed healing…
He could be killed.
You’re wrong, she thought. I’m the one who can’t stand it.
It was too much for her to bear, and the tears began to flow freely. How would she tell Harry? He would blame himself for not being there, but it was more her fault…she had simply stood there watching as the creatures raced away through the trees, not bothering to raise either her bow or her wand.
“Hermione?”
She brushed the tears from her eyes to see Legolas looking down at her with concern.
“He…He’s gone, Legolas,” she hiccupped. “Ron’s gone…it’s my fault, I could have saved him!”
“You did what you could. Fear not – if these Uruks wished to kill him, they would have done so already. We will find him, together with Merry and Pippin. Come, we must bring Boromir back and send him off properly.”
He reached out a hand to help her up. She stood and gathered the wood into her arms, heading back to where Aragorn and Gimli stood waiting.
I will find you, Ron. Just stay alive for me.
* * *
Harry had run pell-mell through the woods as soon as the creatures had attacked, thinking that Hermione had followed him all the way. But as soon as he stopped to catch his breath, he realized that she was not there.
Swearing, he began to race back in the direction he came, when all of a sudden Sam emerged from the trees.
“Harry! Have you seen Mr. Frodo?”
Harry shook his head, and Sam groaned.
“We have to find him! Where do you think he’d have gone?”
Harry closed his eyes, trying to dredge up a sliver of memory in order to answer Sam’s question. He was about to reply that he didn’t know when suddenly a picture swam into his mind…
“The river. That’s where he is, he’s going to try to cross…”
“Well, come on then!”
Sam dashed ahead, calling out Frodo’s name as Harry followed. They crashed haphazardly through the underbrush until they found a place where the trees looked thinner.
“Here! Hurry!”
Harry and Sam scrambled down the gentle slope until the rocky beach came into view.
“Frodo!” Sam shouted.
There, already more than twenty feet from the bank, was a boat with Frodo sitting inside. “No!” the Hobbit called. “Go back! I must do this alone.”
“Of course! I’m coming with you!” Sam began to wade into the water, stumbling in the current.
“You can’t swim!” Frodo cried in a panicked voice. “Sam!”
Suddenly, Sam slipped on a rock and vanished below the surface. Frodo hastily turned around in his boat and began to paddle frantically to the spot where the gardener had disappeared. Harry sheathed his sword and ran into the water. His progress was slow; the sword, cloak, and all his clothes weighed him down as he kicked out against the current.
He took a deep breath and floated facedown at the surface, scanning the water for any sign of Sam. He spotted him just off to his left, sinking helplessly.
Harry took another gulp of air before diving below. His grabbed Sam by the hand and heaved, kicking towards the surface all the while.
It was only five feet to the surface…two…
The sweetness of air met his face, and he took a deep breath before realizing that Sam was still partially submerged. He pulled the gardener’s head out of the water just as Frodo pulled up beside them. Frodo extended a hand out towards Sam, and Harry helped the bedraggled Hobbit into the boat. Then, with an effort, both Hobbits seized Harry’s hands and pulled him aboard.
Frodo stood looking at the pair of them. “I was supposed to go alone.”
“I made a promise, Mr. Frodo! A promise! Don’t you leave him, Samwise Gamgee! And I don’t mean to!”
Grateful tears welled up in Frodo’s eyes. “Oh, Sam!” The two Hobbits embraced quickly before Frodo turned his gaze on Harry.
“Of all the people in the Fellowship besides Sam, I trust you the most. But Elrond said that you need go no further than you will.”
“I…” Harry weighed his decision carefully. If he followed Frodo, he might meddle in events too much for the world’s good. All the same, he knew his magic could protect the Hobbits on their journey. Leaving Ron and Hermione had never been in his plans, but…
I valan vellwain vi dortha. The words echoed in his mind, followed by another voice. Find that power. Take this road.
“I’m coming. Let me just get my stuff…”
Frodo and Sam made to paddle to the shore, but Harry shook his head. “Accio!”
The bag and walking staff he had left on the beach flew across the water to his hand. Harry looked back and saw Frodo smiling.
“Indeed, I can always use a wizard. I thank you for choosing this perilous road.”
They paddled to the opposite shore and hid the boat in the underbrush. Before they set off, they glanced back one final time, hidden behind the trees.
On the opposite bank stood four companions: Hermione, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. All of them were talking, though they were too far away to hear.
“We can’t just leave them wondering,” Harry said quietly. “I need to let Hermione and Ron know where I am, or they’ll worry.”
“Aragorn knows what I did,” Frodo said. “And he will probably deduce that you and Sam have gone with me.”
“Yeah, but all the same…”
“What do you intend to do?”
Harry smiled and raised his wand.
* * *
With the final blessings, the four remaining companions pushed the boat holding Boromir’s body out into the current. They watched silently as it drifted farther and farther away, finally vanishing over the Falls of Rauros.
Hermione quickly gathered up Ron’s wand, knife, and sword. The first two she slid into her quiver with her arrows; the last she slung across her back. Its Elven craftsmen had ensured that it would be light, for which she was grateful. Then she selected a small pouch full of provisions and belted it around her waist, resting next to her own sword.
After they gathered their belongings, Legolas raced to a boat. “Hurry! Frodo and the others will have reached the eastern shore!”
Hermione looked from Legolas to Aragorn. When the Ranger made no move, she knew that any hope of following them could be extinguished.
“Frodo’s fate is no longer in our hands,” Aragorn said quietly.
“But Harry!” Hermione burst out. “That fool, he’s going into greater danger than ever.”
“Do you not wish to find Ron?” Gimli asked.
“Oh, I do, but I just want to know that Harry is – ”
She broke off as she spotted a brilliant light out of the corner of her eye. Turning, she saw what it was and a wave of relief broke over her.
A shining silver stag was galloping across the water. It reached the shore and walked up to Hermione, gazing at her with large, reassuring eyes before it vanished.
“What was that?” Aragorn asked.
“Harry’s Patronus,” Hermione said softly. “He’s telling us that they will be all right. He is a much more powerful wizard than he gives himself credit for; Frodo and Sam will be well-protected.”
She turned to face the other three. “Very well. I will not follow them.”
“Then the Fellowship has indeed failed!” Gimli said.
Aragorn looked around at the three of them, a determined glint forming in his eye. “Not while we hold true to each other. We will not abandon Merry, Pippin, and Ron to torment and death. Not while we have strength left.”
He began to gather his belongings. “We will find them. Come – our hunt begins!”
Aragorn turned and dashed away through the trees. Legolas and Gimli followed just behind him.
With one final glance back at the opposite shore, Hermione turned and began the pursuit, the air whistling past her ears and her braid trailing behind her.
