A Voice from the Clouds

Disclaimer: I do not own Tolkien's works in any way. I am simply expanding on his literary masterpiece.

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The setting sun was slowly drawing its light away from the city of Osgiliath, but the two sons of the steward, Lord Denethor, were still awake. Boromir and his younger brother, Faramir, were sitting outside their tents, whispering.

"The men say that they have spotted orcs on the borders of Mordor." reported Faramir.

 Boromir digested this information carefully before speaking.

"Well, if it's true, that would mean that Sauron has returned." he swallowed hard "But it isn't possible, Faramir. Which man did you hear it from?"

"Beregond, of the Tower Guard." Faramir replied. "I know that a tower guard wouldn't jest about something that serious. They are very respected." he said, glancing up towards the guards.

"That's quite true," said Boromir, "but how could this be? Sauron was destroyed!" They heard the distinctive sound of boots on the rough terrain and quickly retreated to their cots.

The next morning, Faramir woke early and hastened to one of the towers. He looked over the Pelanor Fields, and then to the south. He drew in breath when he saw a large group of men, led by their leaders riding on Oliphaunts.

It is the Southrens! He thought to himself. Sauron has truly returned! They have come to aid him in destroying Gondor. Not a fortnight after the first orcs were spotted, and already he is sending for his allies!

He hurried down the steps to inform his father, when he heard a sudden cry from the guard. Sprinting down the remaining steps, he made his way to the gate. Boromir passed him on the way and they met at the large crowd assembled there. The brothers heard a bone chilling scream and the pawing of a horse's hooves on the cobblestones.

The guards cried out, "Who goes there? Are you friend or foe?"

They heard only another piercing scream in reply. The crowd was shaking in fear and they opened the gate enough to let a small group of men through to march out on the bridge. The brothers rushed to join them, for they wished to serve Gondor, too, never mind how afraid they were.

Once on the bridge, they gasped. It was a rider hooded and dressed in black astride a black steed: a Nazgul. One of the frightening undead servants of Sauron. Its sword gleamed at its side. Luckily, the men had not been rash and were prepared for battle.

"I ask you again," the leader of the guard said, fear evident in his voice "Who are you, and why do you come here?"

The rider merely drew his sword. The men braced themselves as it swung its sword down and smote one of the men down upon the cobblestones.

Faramir ran at it with a yell, slashing at the legs of its steed. The rider just laughed a cold laugh that brought terror into their hearts. It waved its sword, and a battalion of orcs advanced behind it. The rider pointed its sword at the gate, and they attacked. Boromir and Faramir fought hard, but they knew that they were no match for this deadly foe.

"They're too strong for us," Faramir gasped after being dealt a hard blow on his helmet.

"Do not lose faith in your country, brother," Boromir said, helping Faramir to his feet.

The men held strong, and it seemed that they would conquer, but the enemy had yet another card to play. Again, the rider raised his sword, and slashed it through the air, as if slicing the bridge. Even as he did so, the bridge collapsed, sending all but the brothers and two other men into the river, where their heavy armor caused them to drown. Faramir threw his dagger at the rider, hoping to pierce its heart, but it was in vain. No living man could slay such a creature. It screamed and advanced upon them again, but all four fell in a dead faint. The Nazgul and the orcs marched off, the orcs cheering all the way to the borders of Mordor.

That night after their wounds were tended, they went to bed and drifted easily into sleep. As he slept, Boromir had a dream. He was up on the top of the White Tower, the tallest in Gondor, when he saw the eastern sky get dark. There was thunder and then he saw a pale light in the west. All was quiet, until he heard a voice. It said:

"Seek for the Sword that was broken:

In Imladris it dwells;

There shall councils be taken

Stronger than Morgul-spells.

There shall be shown a token

That Doom is near at hand,

For Isildur's Bane shall waken,

And the Halfling forth shall stand." *

He immediately awoke and went to his brother's tent.

"Faramir, you're not going to believe this! I had a dream. There was something about Imladris, and councils being taken there. It said something about Doom, and Isildur's Bane, and a halfling as well."

Faramir sat up in his cot and said, "Well, then; we must hurry and tell father, as well as a master of lore. This must have something to do with that rider!"

The boys ran to their father's room. They told him what Faramir had heard and he summoned the lore master.

"Well," the he said, "Imladris is the elvish name for Rivendell, the home of Elrond half-elven and his kin. As for the rest of the message, I can get no meaning from it."

"Boromir," Faramir said excitedly, "it is clear that we must seek out Imladris to get council. Elrond is among the greatest lore masters in Middle Earth!"

"No, Faramir. The trip is too dangerous." Boromir replied. His brother began to protest, but his father held up his hand.

"Boromir is correct. You are too young. As eldest, and as the one to whom the dream was given, the responsibility falls to him." Then to Boromir, he said, "You have my blessing, my son. Go and seek out the answer to this riddle." Both brothers bowed and left the room.

Back at their room, Boromir began to pack up clothing and weapons for the journey. "Oh, how I envy you!" Faramir exclaimed. "What an adventure! I have always wished to journey to the west. And to meet elves! You do not know how lucky you are!" Boromir laid his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"You will have an adventure someday, Faramir. Just you wait. Farewell!"

"Godspeed, my brother." Faramir replied. "May the blessings of Iluvatar and Neumanor be with you!" Boromir smiled, and walked toward the gate. When he reached to edge of the city, his feet seemed to be filled with lead. He took a deep breath and began walking to the borders of the realm of Gondor. The words of the message echoed in his mind: "...Doom is near at hand" It was possible that he marched not only for the answer to a dream, but for the fate of his country. He set his jaw and turned to the west, walking off towards dangers unknown.

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* from the Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien

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Well .. what d'you think? Just hit that loverly little review button, you know you want to! ^_^

 By the way, I wrote this for a school assignment last year, so please help point out mistakes - true to my procrastinating nature, I wrote this the night before it was due and didn't bother much with checking details since I knew my teacher wouldn't know anyway. I'd like to correct any mistakes now. Thanks and happy holidays! :) 

*****>>> 8-5-06 : I have finally edited the story so it has the correct setting - Osgiliath, rather than Gondor.