The Second Fellowship: The Stone of Might

Chapter 11: Boron's Tale

Chapter 11: Boron's Tale

Bria POV

It was the eigth day since we had left Lorien, so were still two days from where the first fellowship had been captured and Boromir killed at Amon Hen. Thannor had just shouted that we were an hour or so away from coming up to the rapids of Sarn Gebir. We had been paddling for what felt like forever. Or at least, Boron was doing most of the paddling. I was doing the talking, keeping everyone's spirits up. Well that's what I called it. Alden called it a pain in the backside, and Tirnel looked as if she was going to revoke her offer of friendship pretty soon. Since we had left Lothlorien, Faineth had been quiet and subdued. The reason, of course, was that she had been unable to bring Bregon, her faithful horse, along with her. He had served us well, first of all saving her life, and then bearing supplies dutifully for us, even over Caradhras. But now he was left in Lothlorien, where no doubt he would be safe and sound. But he was still away from Faineth, and she was clearly upset at the loss. She will lose things a lot worse than a horse, if this war ever properly begins, I thought darkly. I fingered the chain at my neck to take my mind of the grim thought.

Since I had stopped talking, everything was quiet, and I could hear Boron softly singing to himself behind me.

"One day when hope has fallen

When the whole world appears dead

I will be walking

Will be walking

And so to the end of time

Side by side

I will be walking

Will be walking

And 'till the stars fade in the sky

I'll walk beside you

Beside you."

He finished his song and I shivered, cold fingers running down my back, despite the fact it was still a warm august day.

"What was that?" I inquired softly, turning to face the big man.

"Ah... just an old song my mother used to sing when I was little. That was ages ago, though still not so long by the lifespans of my people. I'm only seventy two. It's an old song that my father used to sing to her. He died soon after my birth, fighting off thirty orcs at once with only a sword. They were trying to invade us. He lived just long enough to send a message for back up soldiers. Only three died that day, my mother would say. He saved them, she told me, he saved them and her and me."

Boron lapsed back into silence, rhythmically paddling the boat. I suspected he was fondly remembering his mother. She was probably dead now.

He stirred behind me and then spoke again. "It was a village, where I lived when I was small. There were perhaps one hundred of us Dunedain, living in peace and relative comfort. There were no big wars to be fought. It was no Arthedain, but it was wonderful. None that lived remembered the great wars of old, but at night time we would gather around flames, and listen to stories. I used to dream of adventure. How I regret that. One night, 11 years after my father's death, a large band of orcs and wargs, foul monsters, came in the darkness. They attacked, and there were too many to fend off. The men of our village stood and fought bravely, as did some of the women. My mother was brave, and taking up her sword, she and four others gathered together the elderly, the sick and the young children. They took us away from the fierce battle. No. Not a battle, a massacre. We ran in the night, escaping with what food and water we had with us. There were three horses. Three horses and one cart. But there were fifteen children, eight of the elderly and a couple of sick people. We made our way as fast as we could, heading for the South Downs, and for Bree and the Shire. The provisions soon began to run out. One old man, and one woman, heavy with child, passed away. We lost the unborn baby as well. Even one of our horses dropped dead."