4. Stranger of the Falls (Boromir) – Part 6 (7): Defence

You twirled a smooth horn between your hands. Boromir had made it from a curved ram's horn, drilling a hole in it and turning it into a sort of trumpet. Should the enemy approach you would blow it and alert everybody.

You were on the lookout that evening; Boromir had divided the nights into watches and now it was your turn. You sat on a rooftop and observed the deserted plains in the growing darkness.

A few days had passed since the village prepared for war, and the dreary darkness from Mordor had finally disappeared, blown away by a fresh south-west breeze. Nothing had happened yet, and you were hoping it never would. Without the strange darkness to hide them, the orcs probably wouldn't dare venture this far.

Even if Boromir had a plan, no plan was foolproof.

You wished you knew how the war went, but no news had reached you since you learned about the attack of Cair Andros. It felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something – be it good or bad.

It made you restless and nervous.

You heard steps from below and turned to see Maja approaching you. "My mama needs you. It is time!"

You were about to climb down and fetch a replacement lookout when something else caught your attention: a group of people coming running across the southwestern plains. They were far away still, but heading to the village.

No... not people. Orcs! You noticed their crooked swords and axes now.

The sight filled you with cool tendrils of fear. This was it. War. War was upon you!

You remembered the horn and blew it, producing a dull hoot. As you climbed down from your post, you blew and blew and blew, and from all doors around you people came out.

Boromir was among the first to reach you. He looked alert and strangely excited.

"The enemy army is here," you told him. It came out like a terrified squeak.

He observed the orcs briefly. "No, just a minor band, thirty or so at the most. Raiders perhaps, or deserters. With our precautions we should take them easily." He turned to Vidar. "Take a lantern and wait for my signal over by the trench. Be sure not to drop it until every orc has crossed."

You tried to swallow but your throat felt too narrow and too dry. Was this the last time you saw these men? Vidar... and Boromir.

You wanted to tell him to be careful but no longer trusted your voice.

"What about Mama?" Maja asked, pulling at your sleeve. "The child is coming."

Boromir looked at her, then you. A fierce, crooked grin broke out in his face and he pressed your trembling shoulder encouragingly. "Then you deliver the child and I deal with the orcs. I will be seeing you!"

You nodded. Deliver the baby. That you could do.

As soon as you entered Sigrid's house you became completely calm. There was a patient needing your help and until she and the baby were safe you had no time to worry about orc attacks.

※

You could not say how much time had passed when you finally laid the wailing infant on her mother's chest. It had not been an easy birth.

"Thank you," Sigrid said tiredly. "Damn Torsten for putting this little monster in me and then riding off to war." She stroked the baby's damp head. "He thought it was a boy but I knew it would be a girl. When he returns I shall gloat at him that I won."

Something about the way she said 'when he returns' made you want to cry. She did not think he would.

But then you remembered about the orcs and your heartbeat increased. Had Boromir made it?

You ran out. Guttural yells and clangs of steel reached you from beyond the palisade and you ran to the gate, expecting the worst.

You were met by a spectacular sight. A burning ring surrounded the village, sending sparks and bright tongues of fire high into the air. Within the ring lay a litter of dark corpses in the grass, and others hung skewered on the sharp lances along the palisade. Some were still writhing in death throes; Vidar walked among them, grimly beheading anyone moving.

Boromir was chasing two last orcs on Svarten. He sat tall and formidable, driving them before him like Béma the Hunter himself. His face was streaked with soot and his hands covered in black blood.

This was his right element, here in the midst of battle, bravely protecting people.

You had never admired him more.

Desperate to evade the menacing pursuer, the orcs leaped through the fire, but the burning tar stuck on their boots and turned them into living torches.

Svarten easily jumped over the trench and followed them. Two neat sword slashes later and the orcs fell to the ground in reeking piles.

It was over.

※

Other villagers had joined you at the gate, now a loud cheer broke out. He had made it! The village had withstood the attack!

Boromir dismounted. Standing there tall, proud, victorious. Beautiful.

"After tonight, I will no longer call you 'Främling'," said Vidar. "You are no stranger to us anymore. Hence, since you still do not remember your name, I say we name you 'Hjälte'! For, you are a true hero, and we are blessed to have you among us."

His words were met by an even louder cheer and Boromir graciously bowed. "It was the least I could do after you took me in so generously."

Everyone then helped put out the fire with buckets of sand and refill the trench with tar in case of new attacks. Like Boromir had said, this had only been a small band. They could be forerunners or scouts from a larger army.

Afterwards, you walked home beside Boromir almost shyly. For the first time, you had seen warrior-him in action. You wanted to hug him and tell him how glad you were that he had survived, but felt too intimidated.

"Thank you for saving us," you said instead. "The ring of flames was fantastic."

"It worked better than I had dared hope," he said proudly. "I got the idea from a place called Moria where I once saw orcs hesitate before a burning chasm. Not one of my best memories, but this time it was helpful."

Back in the house, you noticed red blood in the water when he cleaned his hands.

"You are hurt," you said worriedly.

"A mere nick."

"Let me treat it. There could be poison on their weapons this time also."

Like the other day, your concern seemed to amuse him, but he obediently sat at the table and held out his hand.

You sat next to him, putting a generous amount of ointment on the cut and binding it neatly.

Still with his hand in yours, you looked at his beautiful face. You could not express your gratitude with words. He saved you; all of you. Maja and her mother, the newborn baby, Vidar, little Kalle, everyone had him to thank for their life.

This handsome, kind, generous man was truly a gift to your people. To you. You had never met anyone like him.

You admired him so much. Held him in such high regard... no. More than that.

You loved him.

Part of what you felt must have shown in your eyes, for Boromir gently eased his hand from yours and rose. "We must get some rest." But instead of stretching out on the bed, he leaned back in your comfortable chair.

At your surprised look, he explained: "Long have I been imposing on your hospitality. You should have your bed to yourself."

"I do not mind sharing," you said earnestly, feeling a lump in your throat. He was pushing you away. Creating a distance.

"You already did so much for me," he said seriously. "I never even thanked you for saving my life. Twice. First you healed me, and then your faith in me and stubbornness hindered me from taking the cowardly way out. This way is better; I can do some good now. And for that, you shall always have my heartfelt gratitude."

His words shook you to the core. This way is better.

Did he mean to die in battle?

Now you saw the scene earlier in a new light. Boromir's excitement before the fight; his heroic charge against over thirty orcs. It was not courage. It was the fearlessness of one who had nothing to lose.

Was he still choosing the cowardly way out, but disguising it as bravery?

You did not say anything of what you were thinking. Instead you tried to hide your dismay and make your voice steady. "I am a healer; it is what I do. Think nothing of it."

You went to bed, ignoring how large and empty it felt, and exhausted after the long night's events you fell asleep almost immediately.

※

The next morning, Boromir, Vidar and you went out to gather the orc carcasses, piling them up and setting them on fire. While you were working, a group of riders approached from the same direction the orcs had come. They were Rohirrim!

As they came closer, you felt your heart soar with relief. It was people from your village, as well as the neighboring ones. Jan, Ragnar, Karl, Torsten, all the rest of them. They had survived! Did that mean the war was over?

"Welcome back!" Vidar waved excitedly.

The men looked weary, but relieved when they saw your pyre. "Béma be blessed. We were worried we would find naught but smoking embers like in so many other villages. We have been tracking these orcs for days and found only ruins and homeless refugees in their wake – until now. How did you defeat them?"

You proudly indicated Boromir. "We had help."

Torsten cut in: "Why, if it is not Lord Främling! You look well. I am glad you made it."

"He is Lord Hjälte now," said Vidar.

"Congratulations on becoming a father again, Torsten," you said.

"The child is born? And everything went well?" He leaped off the horse in a smooth jump. "I have to go see them at once. Was it a son? No, say nothing, I know it was. I have a talent for guessing these things."

You smiled smugly as he hurried off.

Meanwhile the other riders filled you in with news from the war, at long last. A lot had happened. Théoden King and his riders found their way to Gondor blocked by the orcs at Cair Andros just as Boromir had feared, but got unexpected aid by a people who dwelled in the mountains and took them on a shortcut to Minas Tirith, capital of Gondor, just in time to save the day and help defeating Sauron's enormous host.

They then described the battle in detail, encouraged by a barrage of questions from Boromir.

There had been many losses and injuries. Théoden King was dead, and his niece Éowyn, who unexpectedly joined the army, was badly hurt. Her brother Éomer would become the new King of Rohan.

Another man who died was Denethor, the Steward of Gondor. Boromir's father.

"Poor old fellow; they say he lost his mind and burned himself alive, broken with grief after what happened to his sons," said Ragnar, unaware that one of them was standing right in front of him. "The eldest was killed in battle in the north prior to the war, you see."

Boromir did not betray any emotions at the news, but you saw his fists clench and his whole stance become rigid.

You wished you could hug him. What a gruesome way for a man to die!

"And the youngest?" His gaze was intent.

"Hurt in battle, but Lord Aragorn healed him. He is greatly improved; they say he will survive."

Boromir grew visibly less tense. "And what now? You said this mysterious heir to the throne has appeared, this Lord Aragorn. What are his plans? The Dark Lord lives, and although he lost a battle, he will return with renewed force soon enough."

Ragnar shifted uneasily. "Lord Aragorn is on his way to Mordor. It is a ruse, and he does not expect to survive, but..." He lowered his voice. "There is a secret, powerful item, you see... a ring, they say, a ring of power. It was forged by Sauron a long time ago and if he can get it back he will use it to usurp the entire world. But a brave young halfling is on a secret mission to cast the ring into the fires where it was once wrought. A halfling is–"

"I know what a halfling is." Boromir had grown very pale.

"Oh. Well, so Lord Aragorn has decided to make this decoy attack to distract the enemy, hence increasing the chances for the halfling to succeed. I know, it sounds impossible, but Aragorn believes it might work, and nearly everyone is following him there."

"But not you?"

He blushed hotly. "He sent us to free Cair Andros. Us and some others..."

"We were afraid and did not want to die," Karl cut in. "We have families waiting for us. He saw that and released us. A good man, he is. And a great king, if he survives."

"We bested the army at Cair Andros," said Ragnar. "This group we were tracing were the last survivors."

After exchanging a few more words the men left you, eager to go see their families now that their task was finally over.

Boromir left too, with a curt "I shall take a walk" that made it clear he did not want company.

You looked long after him.

※

That night Boromir moved out of your house. He said he was no longer a patient, and did not want to impose on your hospitality. Therefore he had arranged with Vidar to sleep in his spare room.

Your stomach grew tight; you knew what this was about. He wanted to keep a distance from you, and you were fairly sure it was because he suspected you had feelings for him.

"I am happy for Vidar's sake," you said, smiling forcedly. "He has been lonely since his wife passed away."

"Goodnight then." He bowed and left.

"Goodnight."

You went to lie in your empty bed. And then you cried.

※※※

A/N:

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