Disclaimer: LOTR belongs to the creative genius of JRR Tolkien, not me.

Chapter 2. Dress (non)Sense

When they returned to the campsite, Boromir removed his finery ready to don the ranger’s garb. Although both men were of similar height, Aragorn was somewhat more slightly built than Boromir, as they discovered during his unsuccessful attempt to fit into Aragorn’s spare clothes. However, as Gandalf pointed out, Boromir’s thick linen under tunic would serve admirably.

“It is of finer quality than most others would wear as an outer garment,” he commented as he rubbed a portion of the hem between his fingers. Aragorn and Boromir exchanged amused smiles and tried their best to contain their mirth at the absurd path the situation was beginning to take.

“I am relieved the others are not awake to witness this scene. I fear Merry and Pippin would take altogether too much delight in teasing us,” Aragorn whispered, apparently having similar thoughts to Boromir whose eyes twinkled with amused agreement. By now the others would  be roaring with laughter at the very idea of the Steward’s son, the Istar and the future king discussing clothing like a group of maidens.

“Not to mention offering far too many suggestions as to what staple supplies we need to try and obtain,” Boromir added, thinking of the imaginative meal time.

 “Whilst I would not be so foolish as to suggest you travel unarmed, I think you should do your best to conceal your swords. Such finely crafted weapons as you both carry will just as surely attract as much attention as silks and velvets,” Gandalf continued on, seemingly unaware of the conversation. He smiled slightly as both men simultaneously placed their hands on the hilts of their swords as if to protect them from prying eyes.

“I can wear my blanket as a cloak,” Boromir suggested, securing the warm cloth about his shoulders with such practiced ease that caused Aragorn to raise an eyebrow in surprise.

“Not very elegant, yet quite ‘forgettable’,” he said, unable to refrain from jesting a little. Boromir rolled his eyes in exasperation and chuckled before offering an explanation.

“My brother is also a ranger, and I have, on occasion, dressed as one and accompanied him and his men on their patrols.”

“Ah, that will do nicely as it also hides your sword,” Gandalf said in all seriousness, still seemingly oblivious to the air of  barely contained humour as Aragorn and Boromir exchanged a smirk at the unintentional, yet ‘colourful’ innuendo. Aragorn drew his cloak more tightly around his body, making a great show of  hiding his own sword, earning a nod of approval from the Istar as well, causing the men to burst into laughter. Gandalf so nothing amusing and so chose to ignore the merriment, settling himself in his bed roll instead. “I think you two should take some rest before you travel to the village, it is yet early morn and you must be tired,” he told them as he yawned loudly, pulled his blanket up to his chin and promptly fell asleep.

Both men were more than willing to follow that suggestion. They had journeyed all night, and although they could be considered to be  in their prime, there were still limits to their endurance, and  the demands of ever being on watch for danger, as well as lack of food and sleep, had made them both weary.

“That would indeed be wise. I will ask Legolas to wake us in a few hours,” Aragorn said, looking to Boromir for confirmation before he began walking towards where the Elf was keeping watch.

“Aye, we best be fully alert and have our wits about us when we arrive in the village,” he agreed, packing his discarded clothes away before choosing a place to sleep.

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It was well before mid day that a firm shake of his shoulder roused Boromir from his slumber, and as a warrior is trained to do, he awoke fully alert. Sitting up, he accepted the mug of hot tea and the small piece of cheese Legolas offered as breakfast, and seeing Aragorn was ready to leave, he quickly finished his meager meal and was soon ready to join his friend who was now talking with the Elf.

“As I said, the village is about three miles that way,” Legolas affirmed, pointing in a southerly direction. “While you were sleeping, I found higher ground and my eyes tell me there are several small farms scattered about, and there is a well worn road leading into the forest that lies between here and there, possibly to a village in the clearing I noticed amongst the trees.”

“Did you notice any other travelers? We must try not to draw too much attention to ourselves,” Aragorn commented, concerned that word of the two rangers might find its way to unwelcome ears.

“Nay, but neither do I sense any of Sauron’s dark creatures nearby. You should find the journey swift and uneventful,” Legolas replied with elvish certainty.

“Aye, I expect we will return before nightfall, but if we are delayed, continue on without us. Boromir and I will rejoin you as soon as possible,” Aragorn instructed. Since Legolas deemed it to be safe in these parts, Aragorn was confident that the Elf, Gimli and Gandalf would provide enough protection for the others until he and Boromir returned. Bidding their friend a brief farewell, the two men soon disappeared in the direction of the village.

Despite Legolas’s assurances, both men kept a watchful eye as they made their way through the sometimes tangled undergrowth, Boromir willingly deferring the finding of a suitable path to the tracking skills of the more experienced ranger. Neither men found the need to speak, preferring to use their energy to hack their way through tall bushes and, as they entered the forest, the thick, gnarled vines that seemed to be deliberately attempting to hinder their progress. After several hours of hard, work, and enticed by the sound of the undoubtedly cool, running water of a stream somewhere ahead, both tired and thirsty men were pleased with their progress and were ready to take a short, well earned rest.

Moving out of the shadow of the trees, and towards the sound of the water, Aragorn was forced to stop short when he realized the stream ran not in front of them, but far below in the ravine on the edge of which they now stood. Boromir did not bother to contain his groan of disappointment as he and Aragorn shared a look of despair.

“Curse that Elf, he did not mention this obstacle lay in our path,” he said angrily as he sat on a nearby rock and took a draught from his water skin.

“Legolas is not to blame, elvish eyes can see great distances, but not through thick woods that hide much from his view,” Aragorn replied in defense of his friend. Boromir offered that comment only a resigned shrug as he handed the water skin to Aragorn.

“Well, surely there must be a crossing,” Boromir said standing again and moving to the edge of the ravine so that he could try and gauge how far it extended in both directions. Aragorn moved to stand at his side.

“Not for many miles, I would guess,” he said as he brushed several locks of  unruly hair from his face, squinting his eyes as he also looked to his left and right, sighing with dismay only to discover that the stream ran far below them as far as either of them could see.

“So, we have two choices,” Boromir said, thinking aloud. “We can follow the stream and try and find a place to cross, or we can abandon our plans and hope we soon find a more accessible village. We can not afford to linger here too long.”

“Nay we can not, Sauron has spies everywhere, but we still need to replenish our supplies,” Aragorn reminded his companion. “Perhaps there is a bridge further downstream?”

“Aye, that seems likely to me and it will cause us no delay if we follow the course of the stream to the south, for that is the direction Gandalf and Legolas will lead the rest of our companions tonight. If we are unable to find a way across before it is time to make our way back, then at least we will not have far to travel to rejoin the others.”

“An excellent strategy, and one such as I would expect from the man born to be Steward of Gondor, even when dressed as a ranger.” There was nothing but sincere admiration in Aragorn’s tone of voice, or in the affectionate clasp of his hand on Boromir’s shoulder, a gesture that was rewarded with a slight bow of respect, and a warm, friendly smile.