°∴,*⋅✲✦ ( ♕ ) ✦✲⋅*,∴°

━━━━ »•» act two. age of shadow

29. a sign of breaking «•« ━━━━

* ✧                               .°

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ third age ━━ year 3019

𓇻 wilderland; anduin {great river}

*.                         ✦                           °.

THEY SAW NO SIGN OF THE ENEMY FOR EIGHT DAYS. The dull hours spent on the water went by without event. They had been mostly traveling during the night and the early morning hours, avoiding daylight in order to prevent being seen by unfriendly eyes, even though there wasn't a living thing in sight, save for the occasional bird. But even their whistles seemed filled with despair and sorrow for the land filled with darkness and decay that surrounded them.

As their journey progressed the landscape had started to change. On the eastern bank, to her left, Elgarain could see long, formless slopes. They stretched up and away towards the sky like withered guards, tired of their post. It was as if they had been scorched, not even a single blade of grass could be seen growing upon the blackened rocks. She remembered from the maps she'd studied before their departure from Imladris that those were the shores of the Brown Lands. Empty wastelands between the south of Mirkwood and the hills of the Emyn Muil; the northern border of Mordor.

To her right there was more greenery but it brought her no more comfort than the eastern shores. The trees seemed sinister; their shadows filled with secrets while the wind made their leaves rustle with whispered secrets. The forest held none of the safety that Lothlórien had and whenever she set her sight upon the trees, she simply couldn't shake the feeling she was being watched. She blamed it on lack of sleep and food but her heart never truly believed those reasons and so she remained restless.

From her memory of the map she knew that somewhere behind that dark forest lay the rolling plains of Rohan. She hadn't had the pleasure of seeing those grasslands for herself and her journey now would not take her there either. Yet she'd heard many stories of the unrivaled grasslands of the horse masters. She almost regretted not being able to see that green sea for herself. For she was sure those lands would provide her with more peace than these empty wastelands.

There was little speech and no laughter in any of the boats. Each member of the Company was busy with their own thoughts. With each passing day they came closer to Mordor and the thought of that dark land was already causing a shadow to fall upon their hearts, wrapping them in silence. However, what worried Elgarain most were not orcs or other dark creatures they might come to face.

It was the restlessness in Boromir's eyes.

She did not know why, but out of all of them, he had changed the most after their departure from the golden woods. He hardly slept and when he did, he always awoke trembling, as if from a nightmare. Her mind had conjured up countless explanations but her heart already knew the reason. Far too often had she noticed his gaze being drawn to Frodo. More specifically to his chest, to the exact spot beneath his clothing where the ring rested against his skin. And whenever his eyes locked with that invisible enemy, she could see the darkness growing within them.

It made her shiver and brought back unwanted memories of the snow of Caradhras. On that mountain she'd been faced with the dangers of the ring for the first time. She knew she'd been foolish to think the One Ring wouldn't try to influence any of them. But Boromir had seemed fine after that one incident and so she'd forgotten about it. Until now...

Though perhaps even worse was the fact that she knew she wasn't the only one who had noticed the change in his behavior. Aragorn's sharp gaze followed the man of Gondor like a hawk would his prey. He had been ready to draw his sword on Caradhras and she feared what he might do if Boromir would fall to the whispered promises of the ring once again.

Gyda had noticed the ever-growing tension as well. The two Elleths had silently exchanged looks many times throughout the days. And so, an unspoken pact that they would both keep an eye on the two men had grown between them.

The eight night of their journey was windless and lit by a full moon. The dark sky was cloudless and littered with many glittering stars. It was a comfort to see their familiar silver light. Even in these dark lands the stars were still the same as the ones she looked at from the window of her bedroom.

Aragorn, Frodo and Sam were at the front. Poor Sam was still not comfortable in the small boats. Yet, he'd been given the task of peering into the darkness and warning them of anything that might lay ahead. It was close to midnight when the Hobbit suddenly cried out. "There are some dark shapes in the water ahead!"

Elgarain sat up straight as her ears picked up the sound of racing water. There was a strong current swirling to the left, pushing the silver boats straight to the shore of the enemy. But even if they wanted to turn around, the shapes Sam had spotted in the river prevented them from doing so.

Sharp rocks rose out of the water like teeth. The river splattered in white foam against the edges, sharpening them as time went on. The rushing water pushed the boats towards each other until they were huddled together.

"Aragorn, this is madness!" Boromir shouted as his boat bumped into the one of Legolas and Gimli. "We cannot hope to survive these currents by day, much less in the dark!"

She threw a look over her shoulder and saw Gyda trying to keep the boat straight with a concentrated frown on her face. But there was no other peddle she could use to help her.

"Back! Back!" Aragorn's voice came out of the darkness, finally having realized that it was indeed hopeless to try and brace the currents. "Turn if you can!"

It took great effort to get the boats turned around. They could only make small headway against the current and the entire time they were pushed further and further towards the eastern bank. The jagged rocks loomed dark and ominous in the night. Her heart jumped in her chest when she felt the keel beneath her drag across stone. They were getting too close to the shore.

Gyda groaned with effort as she tried to peddle against the current until suddenly her eyes widened. "Duck!" She shouted.

Elgarain heard it too and let herself fall flat against the bottom of the small boat. The twang of bowstrings being drawn reached her ears. Several arrows whistled above them and fell into the water. A few others got stuck in the wood of the boats. Slowly she sat up and when she sharpened her eyes, she caught a glimpse of dark figures running along the eastern shore.

"Orcs!" Legolas called out from the boat in front of them.

"Paddle faster!" Aragorn shouted; his voice strained from the effort it took to keep the boat steady in the rushing water.

A startled shouted escaped her lips as an arrow landed mere inches beside her hand. Many more whined overhead or struck the water nearby. Though, thankfully, there were none that hit their target. Which was strange because despite the darkness, it wasn't too dark for orc eyes. Unless it was thanks to the gray cloaks of Lórien that they were able to escape their gaze.

Stroke by stroke they went on but in the darkness it was hard to see if they were making any progress at all. The entire time her heart was racing within her chest. Fear of hearing the pained cry of one of them being hit by a black-feathered arrow made her heart clench painfully.

Elgarain's skin tingled, like a foreboding warning and as she looked up, she caught a glimpse of the glinted steel of an arrow. Her body tensed, but before she could even begin to duck, an arm shot out.

The black arrow fell as it struck the Mithril of Gyda's arm bracer, rendered harmless by the impenetrable steel.

"Are you alright?" Gyda asked hurriedly, looking down at her with concern.

"I-I think so," Elgarain stammered, eyes wide as she stared at the silver of the arm bracers. Even in the darkness of the night, Galadriel's light seemed to shine upon them.

Gyda nodded and reached for the oars again. "Good."

Slowly the swirl of the water grew less as the fellowship labored on and the shadow of the eastern shore faded back into the night. At last, they had reached the middle of the river again and managed to get some distance between the boats and the rocks. Then, they moved towards the safety of the western shore with all of their strength. Finally, they managed to get out of the orcs' range

"Is everyone alright?" Elgarain called out into the darkness.

"We're okay!" Merry answered, though his voice was shaking.

"So are we," Legolas replied from somewhere in front of her.

"We're okay too, I think," Sam's voice sounded small but at least he was alive.

A trembling breath of relief left her lips as the boat finally hit the western bank. No matter how sinister the trees had looked to her before, she now welcomed the shadow and protection the branches provided.

In the silver light of the stars, she could see Legolas and Gimli as they went ashore beside them. Legolas laid down his peddle and picked up the bow Galadriel had gifted him. He climbed a few paces up the bank, then he stringed the bow and aimed into the darkness. Across the water she could hear the shrill cries of their enemy but they were too far away to see and hit them.

Slowly Legolas lowered his bow, his face suddenly pale in the moonlight. 'Elbereth Gilthoniel!'

A sudden dread fell upon them all. It felt as though ice was gnawing at her heart, freezing her from the inside out. A dark shape, like a cloud, though it moved far too swiftly to be one, moved out of the darkness of the south. It headed straight towards them, snuffing out the light of the stars and the moon as it did so. For one blinding moment, Elgarain felt completely disoriented without her beloved silver light. Then she finally caught sight of what was heading for them and she gasped for air.

A great winged creature appeared. She was only able to see it because it seemed to be even darker than the night itself, a black shape against a dark blue sky. A shrill cry cut through the haunted silence of the night and she whimpered, covering her ears in a hopeless attempt to shut it out. But the sound echoed through her very bones and made her heart tremble with fear. Nazgûl.

As if the cry of the black rider had been a signal, the ring on her finger suddenly glowed with bright silver light, sending a warm shiver down her spine. The silver light provided a source of light for Legolas, who was still holding his arrow at the ready. The bow of Lórien sang. The arrow whistled as it found its path through the air.

The great winged creature swerved and a harsh, croaking scream followed as it fell out of the air. The shape vanished somewhere along the eastern shore. Darkness was slowly lifted as the moon and stars returned to their place in the heavens once more.

Breathless and shivering, the Fellowship waited, motionless. But no more sounds came from the other side of the river and finally it was Aragorn who dared to move first. He dragged his boat further upon land and then turned to face them. "We stay here for the night but light no fire. We continue at dawn."

Gimli exhaled deeply. "Praised be the bow of Galadriel, the ring of Elgarain and the hand and eye of Legolas! That was a mighty shot my friend!"

Legolas frowned. "But who can say what it hit?"

"One of the nine," Elgarain whispered, even speaking of them felt as though she was swallowing poison.

A heavy silence fell upon them. It was something of a wonder they had not encountered the Ringwraiths so far. They were bound to show themselves again and so all they could really do was be grateful it had only been one of them tonight.

"So it would seem," Aragorn spoke, "Yet where they are and what they will do next, we do not know. We must keep our weapons close tonight."

She took a trembling breath to steady herself and to give her shaking hands something to do, she reached for the flask of Miruvor she had taken from Lórien. She took a small sip and immediately the warm mixture chased away the chill from her bones. Then she walked to Frodo, who was holding his shoulder, the one where he'd been stabbed by the Morgul blade. The cry of the nazgûl seemed to have awoken old pains.

"Here, drink this," she whispered as she knelt down beside him.

The Hobbit took the flask from her with a grateful nod and took a small sip. Immediately his blue eyes seemed to shine with renewed strength, though his skin remained awfully pale. "Thank you."

She nodded at him and then moved on to the others. The Miruvor chased away the ghosts that haunted their minds and the very real danger that had approached them from across the water. Though the effects would not last and come morning their hearts would once again be heavy. At last, Elgarain found herself seated beside Boromir, who accepted the flask with a tight-lipped smile.

"The healing cordial does wonders, though I wish I could light a fire to make some tea," she said with a warm voice. "I've found that no other drink has such a healing effect as tea. When made right of course."

The shadow seemed to clear from Boromir's eyes once the sweet-flavored drink passed his lips. He nodded as he returned the flask to her. "You should like my brother," he muttered, the darkness not yet completely gone from his voice. "After our mother passed away, he continued her habit of making tea on cold evenings."

She wrapped her arms around her legs as she studied the man of Gondor beside her. "I'm sorry. How did she die?"

He inhaled deeply, his gaze turned upward as if the sky could provide him with comfort. "She fell ill. The Healers tried everything they could but in the end..."

"That is awful." Elgarain placed her hand on his arm. "What was her name?"

For the first time in days, a small smile broke through on Boromir's face. "Finduilas." He turned to look at her, a warmth in his eyes that she had not seen since they entered Moria. "She used to say she was named after a great Elf-maiden and joked she failed to see any resemblance between her and the Eldar."

Her smile widened. "Why was that?"

A small chuckle fell from his own lips. "Well, despite her gentle heart she carried none of the grace of your kind. She loved to run, to be free and took us outside as often as she could. I had never seen her happier than when she was covered in mud and smelled of horse."

Elgarain chuckled and her heart glowed when Boromir laughed fondly as well but then his frown slowly returned.

"My father never truly recovered from her death. He grew silent and grim. Even I could not get him to speak at times." He sighed. "I fear for him and for our people. At times I wish I..."

"Never left home?" She finished when he seemed unable to find the words.

He nodded, turning his gaze away from her.

"I've had the same fears," she whispered, recalling her conversation with Gyda on the first day of their journey of the river. "But a dear friend told me that whatever comes, whatever happens, it was meant to happen this way. We all have a role to play, trust that you're doing yours the way you were meant to."

Boromir inhaled deeply and forced a smile on his face. "We should get some rest," he mumbled.

The glow in her heart dimmed and she couldn't help but feel like she had failed somehow. Failed to break through the shadow clouding his heart. But as she got to her feet, Boromir reached for her hand squeezed softly.

"Thank you, my lady," he said, his voice warm and genuine.

She nodded and squeezed his hand in return. "Always, my lord."

The night passed silently. No voice or call was heard from across the water. The rushing water of the river was a calming sound to her racing heart, yet Elgarain could not sleep. She wasn't sure any of them slept that night. She lay curled up beneath her cloak with her spear grabbed firmly in her hand. So, she waited until morning came.

Dawn greeted them through a curtain of fog, hiding the sight of the eastern shore across the water.

"I can't abide fog," Sam muttered, "but this seems to be a stroke of luck. At least those nasty goblins can't see us anymore."

"Perhaps," Aragorn said, "but we must be careful not to get caught upon the rocks."

Not many words were exchanged as they erased all traces from their camp and headed back out onto the water. As she'd expected, the warming glow of the Miruvor had worn off.

As the hours passed by, the fog slowly lifted, revealing both river banks. Though the orcs were nowhere to be seen. With a frown she watched as the river grew narrower and the water seemed to flow by faster. The boats were speeding along without the Fellowship having to do much rowing. Up ahead, two great rocks were approaching, like pillars of stone. Tall and proud they stood watch on both sides of the river. The water swept in a narrow channel between them. And only as they got closer could Elgarain see that they weren't rocks at all.

The two pillars were shaped like men, like great kings of stone. With furrowed brows they looked north. Their left hands were raised with the palm outwards, almost like a warning and in their right hands they held a sword. Masterfully crafted crowns adorned their heads. Despite being weathered, they were still majestic as they stood there, watchers of a bygone age.

"The Argonath," Aragorn said breathlessly. "Long have I desired to look upon the kings of old. My kin." There was a light burning within his gaze that made her heart flutter within her chest. For she recognized that look all too well, even if he would refuse to admit it himself: it was the look of a king returning home.

Quickly she looked away from him, her gaze drawn towards Boromir and she felt her heart glow once again when she saw the genuine smile of awe on his features. She looked over her shoulder at Gyda, who nodded at her, having seen the same spark of light within the man of Gondor, while it would last...

But then the head of her guard frowned, her gaze flickering towards the ring on Elgarain's finger. She seemed almost...worried. Though once she realized Elgarain caught her staring, she cleared her throat and focused her eyes back on the river.

Elgarain turned back around, trying to ease the discomfort within her stomach. But she had no explanation for Gyda's worry and so the discomfort did not ease.

The wind roared in the channel of stone as they passed between the statues. It toyed with her hair and made her shiver. The current was fast and soon the river had carried them out on the other side of the Argonath. The river disappeared into a long, oval lake. Far in the distance she could hear the roar of the falls of Rauros. Great pointed rocks rose up out of the water.

Aragorn steered them towards the western shore. A small pebble beach greeted them and just a few steps further they could hide beneath the shadows of the trees.

"We cross the lake at nightfall," Aragorn said as he got out of his boat and started gathering his bags. "Hide the boats and continue on foot but first we must rest."

Nobody protested and they silently got to work on setting up camp. Her gaze drifted towards the eastern bank, across the lake. Somewhere behind those dark trees and jagged rocks was Mordor. Their final destination was getting closer and yet she couldn't help but feel like the road ahead would still feel endlessly long and endlessly dangerous.

°∴,*⋅✲✦ ( ♕ ) ✦✲⋅*,∴°

𝕬𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝕹𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . .

Hey guys! Chapter 29 has arrived! Only one more chapter left to go and act two is officially finished...I can't believe how fast this book is going!

For this chapter we decided to add another book scene. We thought it would add a little more excitement to the river part of the film. And I just really wanted Elgarain to see a nazgûl at least once lol.

Please leave your thoughts in the comments! I love hearing from you guys.

xx Nelly

ELVISH TRANSLATIONS:

Elbereth Gilthoniel ― Varda Starkindler

NOTES ON LORE:

Elbereth ― Varda (or Elbereth in Sindarin) is the Queen of the Valar, the wife of Manwë. Of all the Valar, the Elves revere her most because she created the stars. Calling out her name when in danger is comparable to calling upon a saint or angel for protection.

Miruvor ― A special wine or cordial used by the Valar and the Elves. This is a canon established potion and is not invented by me.