A Debt Repayed

Brunfair parried the first horizontal sweep with one blade, piercing the neck of the sword’s wielder with his other. He ducked under an ax and brought his shoulder to bear, knocking down an off-balance Uruk onto his comrade’s blade as they forced him backwards. He stumbled over a bush, catching himself and running both swords under the breastplate of a third Uruk. Aragorn had drawn their attention, working his way to the watchtower, and Brunfair sheathed his swords, throwing his knives through the air and bringing down six Uruks at once.

“Go Brunfair! Find the other hobbits!” His voice was almost unheard amongst the orders to find Frodo, but Brunfair understood, giving chase to a group of Uruks. He could hear the shouts of Merry and Pippin drawing Uruks to them, but much closer to him was Sam, shouting as the beasts grabbed hold of him.

He drew Death’s Edge and leapt into the fray, bringing the longsword onto the shoulder of an Uruk, hacking off his arm, finishing him with a sweep that lobbed off two skulls. He dropped his sword, catching the handle of an ax as an Uruk tried to cleave his head from his shoulders. He kicked its knee, hearing a satisfying crack, slitting his throat. He took the ax and jammed it into the guts of an Uruk, pulling out intestinal cord with it, and threw it into the face of another enemy. He was suddenly knocked to the ground as he was hit in the face with the flat of a blade, reaching for his longsword as the monster readied itself for the final blow, and removed his legs, watching the beast topple over. Sam helped him rise, Brunfair stowing away Death’s Edge.

“Stay with me, we need to go help Merry and Pippin.”

“But what of Frodo? I must find him!”

“Sam, we can’t go-” He was interrupted as a blaring filled the woods, growing farther away with each blast. “Boromir! Go then, but run far from the horn. That’s where the fighting shall go, and I want you to be no part of it. Go!” Sam took off through the trees towards the river, and Brunfair ran the opposite direction, searching for Boromir. He ran past Uruk-Hai, lashing out with his short swords to slow their approach. He was suddenly in sight of a massive group, and they all ran towards him, defending an archer as he loaded an arrow.

He impaled an Uruk, but in its final breaths it stuck itself onto a tree, making the blade run through it, too little time to pull it out as more Uruks rushed Brunfair. He took his blade and lashed out, parrying and slicing without thought, his blade finding steel and flesh itself. He tried to break through the ranks as the archer loaded a second arrow, but they pushed him back with wide arcs of swings that pushed him back, but gave him time to stab weak spots the armor didn’t cover. He watched as the archer released a second arrow, already grabbing a third. Brunfair rushed forward once again, but now the archer smirked as Merry and Pippin screamed in anguish, the Uruks retreating with the hobbits under their arms. He finally found himself in the clearing, seeing Boromir kneeling with three arrows poking out from his chest, the archer taking aim at his skull for the final blow. He dropped the shortsword, charging with Death’s Edge.

He barreled into the archer, hearing a whistle as the arrow went askew. He regained his stance, the Uruk already bearing a sword down on Death’s Edge. He was pushed back, and the beast threw its shield at his neck, pinning him to a tree. He struggled to pull away from the oak as the Uruk swung its sword, just slipping his neck out from the shield as the sword bounced off from the wood. He tried to slow it down with a punch to the gut, but it shook it off and threw Brunfair to the ground, lifting its sword. Brunfair rolled as the blade embedded itself in the dirt, finding a dagger from his belt and piercing its leg. It let out a shout of bloodthirst, lifting him by his neck. It slammed its fist into his gut, fiery pain spreading through his body. It threw him off the hill, and as he rolled down, he felt warm, trickling blood seeping down his stomach. The punch had opened his wounds from the battle with the Ringwraiths once again, and as he lost sight of the Uruk, his world began to spin round, his sight growing narrower and hazier. He heard two sets of footsteps approach him, one with a long soft stride and one with a short, boisterous gait. The steps of an elf and a dwarf.

“Gimli, leave him to me. I hear Aragorn taking up the fight, and he might need help.” Gimli nodded, scuttling off in a different direction. Legolas lifted his robes and shirt to see a mass of blood pooling on Brunfair’s chest, beginning to recite ancient, arcane words only known by a wood elf. Brunfair could suddenly hear the forest come alive, the trees swaying and the streams running, all giving Legolas power as he mumbled faster. Light shone from Brunfair’s chest, the wound slowly seaming itself back together. Legolas grew louder, and the pain waned away, only a scar left on his chest. But they were both drained of power, one from blood loss and one from the energy of the spell, and they both collapsed, unconscious.

Boromir had died, Aragorn at his side. They sent him off a way a hero should be; they packed him into a boat with the weapons of the enemies he’d killed, sending him off the waterfall, so that none could desecrate his body. He looked at peace with himself as he drifted away from the shore, the four silent as they watched him grow closer to the falls.

“He was a hero, just as Gandalf was. Let us lament him just the same.” With those words, Aragorn began to sing, his voice deep and scratchy.

Through Rohan over fen and field where the long grass grows
The West Wind comes walking, and about the walls it goes.
‘What news from the West, O wandering wind, do you bring to me tonight?
Have you seen Boromir the Tall by moon or by starlight?’
I saw him ride over seven streans, over waters wide and grey;
I saw him walk into empty lands, until he passed away
Into the shadows of the North. I saw him then no more
The North Wind may have heard the horn of the son of Denethor.’
‘O Boromir! From the high walls westward I looked afar,
But you came not from the empty lands where no men are.’

Legolas took up the next verse, his voice higher and softer.

From the mouths of the sea the South Wind flies, from the sandhills and the stones;
The wailing of the gulls it hears, and at the gate it moans.
'What news from the South, O sighing wind, do you bring to me at eve?
Where now is Boromir the fair? He tarries and I grieve!'
'Ask me not of where he doth dwell--so many bones there lie
On the white shores and the dark shores under the stormy sky;
So many have passed down Anduin to find the flowing Sea.
Ask of the North Wind news of them the North Wind sends to me!'
'O Boromir! Beyond the gate the seaward road runs south,
But you came not with the wailing gulls from the grey sea's mouth.'

Brunfair sang now, his voice low and shaky, his mind trying to find the words.

From the Gate of Kings the North Wind rides, and past the roaring falls;
And clear and cold about the tower its loud horn calls.
'What news from the North, O mighty wind, do you bring to me today?
What news of Boromir the Bold? For he is long away.'
'Beneath Amon Hen I heard his cry. There many foes he fought.
His cloven sheild, his broken sword, they to the water brought.
His head so proud, his face so fair, his limbs they laid to rest;
And Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, bore him upon its breast.'
'O Boromir! The Tower of Guard shall ever northward gaze
To Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, until the end of days.'

With those final passing lines, they watched as Boromir slipped past the edge of the falls, out of sight as it took him for its own. Gimli spoke up. “You left me the East Wind, but I shall not sing of it.”

“That is how it should be,” Aragorn whispered. “In Minas Tirith they endure the East Wind, but they do not ask for its tidings. But Boromir has taken his road, and now we must find ours.

“Then let us make haste! Frodo and Sam have made it to the Eastern Shore!” Legolas rushed the boat out onto the water, but realized Aragorn was silent. “You mean not to follow them?”

“Frodo’s fate no longer rests in our hands, but his alone.” Brunfair sat silent; from the beginning of the fight he realized what Galadriel and Frodo had meant when Aragorn let Frodo go, had spoken of their final act for him. Legolas had just pieced it together.

“But then all of this has been in vain!” Gimli dropped his head. “The Fellowship has failed.”

“No,” Aragorn said, “not as long as we remain true to each other. We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left. Leave anything that can be spared behind. We travel light.” He sheathed his dagger, looking at them proudly. “Let’s hunt us some orc.”

They ran. Brunfair felt alive, with a Ranger, an elf, and a dwarf he was proud to call his surrogate family. He would have their backs as they searched for the hobbits, and they had his. He felt like the weight of the dead was off from his shoulders, and Gandalf had become a symbol of strength for him. He shut his eyes, letting his pace match Legolas’s.

He finally, truly felt his debt was repaid.