Chapter 3. A Boy and His Boat

The rocky ground that formed the edge of the ravine supported little plant growth and made the way easier, allowing Aragorn and Boromir to travel at a more acceptable speed.  When Aragorn took the time to note the lengthening shadows he realised it was well after midday. A glance at Boromir told him that he also knew it would soon be time to forsake their task and rejoin their companions.

“I suppose that by now the others are awake and well aware of our absence,” he mused as he reached out a steadying hand to Boromir who had almost lost his footing on a rock hidden beneath a particularly damp patch of grass. The Steward’s son glared menacingly at the offending rock for a moment than clasped Aragorn’s shoulder and smiled his thanks.

“Aye, and no doubt the hobbits are already trying to imagine what we will be bringing back for tonight’s supper,” Boromir replied affectionately at the thought of pleasing his friends in this small way. He was not particularly bothered by the lack of variety in their repasts, what he craved more than a good meal was a nice, hot bath. He allowed a small sigh to escape as he thought of the deep tub in his private bathing chamber, lit by the soft glow of candles, and a cup of good wine to help him relax. “And a lovely maiden or two to wash your back. I know of several who would only be too happy to oblige,” he could hear Faramir teasing, just as he could imagine the wicked gleam in his brother’s eye for which a cold wash cloth in the face was always a quick remedy. The thought vanished into the mists of memory and Boromir turned his attention back to his companion.

“Speaking of which, it occurs to me that we have not discussed how we are to pay for any goods the villagers might be able to provide,” Aragorn was saying. In his experience, rangers rarely had to pay for a roof over their heads or a hot meal and a tankard of ale. The protection these men offered the villagers was deemed payment enough, and he said as much.

“When travelling alone in Gondor I am treated in the same manner, however it is my habit to pay a fair price for soldiers’ rations when I am with my army or when journeying through strange lands. I have sufficient coin,” he assured his companion, tapping the small pouch on his belt.

“Not only are you their fierce protector but you are a fair and honourable man as well. ‘Tis no surprise you are much beloved by your people,” Aragorn observed. The more he learned about his Steward’s son, the more he found there was to respect and admire.

“They are your people, too,” came the reply. Steel grey eyes searched Boromir’s face but found nothing other than loyalty etched in the handsome features and Aragorn knew that the words had been spoken not as a rebuke to the reluctant king, but as a gentle reminder.

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To the relief of both men, they soon noticed that they were beginning to move downhill.  The slow fall in the lay of the land as they continued downstream was a welcome sign that their quest might succeed, as was the sight that greeted them when they rounded the curve they had been following.

Although they would need to climb down the remaining embankment to reach it, the stream was now easily accessible and across the water they could see a well-worn path that lead into the forest and the village they were seeking. A short distance along the bank was the means to reach it.

“It seems our fortune has changed for the better, if my eyes do not deceive me. Is that a boat?” Boromir asked, pointing to the small craft that was beached on the pebble-strewn bank on their side of the water.

“Indeed it is, but I wonder whether it belongs to friend or foe,” Aragorn replied, placing his hand on his sword hilt, suddenly on the alert for danger. He noted that Boromir had instinctively done likewise and was now looking around cautiously. Silent agreement was reached with a slight incline of a head that was acknowledged by a quick nod, and the two men moved stealthily towards their goal.

“It appears to have been abandoned. I do not think it will stay afloat long enough to reach the other shore,” Boromir said after further inspection. The boat was in poor condition, and apparently leaked from somewhere, judging by the bucket he held aloft, having found it lying to one side.

“You have likely had more experience with river craft than I have, can we use it?” Aragorn asked, as he stood, hands on hips and scowled at the item in Boromir’s hands.

“Perhaps, it is the only way across that I can see. We could swim, but we will need something to ferry the supplies back. Faramir and I have rowed the Anduin in worse than this, and as long as you are prepared to assist, it should serve its purpose,” Boromir said encouragingly and with a hint of amusement as he handed Aragorn the bucket and proceeded to search for the oars. Only one was to be found, and he had just suggested they look further ashore for the other when a cry of pain reached their ears. Signalling for Boromir to follow, Aragorn raced ahead to where he believed the owner of the voice was located.

Frightened eyes stared at the two men, and although his foot was trapped firmly between two rocks, the youth waved the second oar in a threatening manner even as he tried to back away when they approached. His movement must have caused some pain, for he cried out as he did so, dropped his makeshift weapon and reached for his ankle. He looked up and was startled to see Aragorn already so close by.

“It is very swollen, but I do not think it is broken. We will have to free you so that I can examine it properly,” Aragorn said, using his soothing healer’s voice as he knelt beside the boy and slowly reached out touch the injured ankle. The boy looked from one man to the other and, apparently deciding to trust the strangers, he nodded his agreement.

“I think I can loosen this one a little,” Boromir said as he managed to get a grip on the smaller of the rocks and move it slightly. Using his dagger, dug around it some more, removing as much soil as possible before applying his full strength to the cool stone, pulling on it and widening the gap enough for Aragorn to gently ease the boy’s ankle out of its trap.

The boy bravely endured another few moments of prodding and poking before Aragorn declared there was no broken bones, the ankle was merely badly bruised.

“Where do you live?” he asked the boy as he applied some of the salve he carried as a matter of course, not only as a ranger, but because of the company he was now keeping. The hobbits were unaccustomed to the hardships of travelling rugged terrain and often required treatment for cuts and bruises.

“In the village across the river,” came the reply.

“Did you row here in that boat?” Aragorn asked, inclining his head towards the direction of the stream.

“Aye, I do it all the time,” the boy replied with an air of pride, the foolish pride of youth, as far as Boromir was concerned.

“Then you are very fortunate not to have drowned, the boat is in dire need of repair,” Boromir commented sternly, his uncertainty whether to be impressed with the boy’s skill or admonish him for taking such a dangerous chance with fate, reminding him of the times a much younger Faramir had put him in a similar position.

“It will be fixed, just as soon as I find my father. He was hunting on this side of the stream several days ago, and did not return. I promised mother that I would find him.” There was both a sadness and defiance of a bitter truth in the young eyes that touched the men’s hearts. They knew it was unlikely that the other man would be found alive.

“But not today. You cannot walk and it will soon be night. My friend and I have business in the village and will see you safely home,” Aragorn said gently, looking to Boromir for agreement to the change in plan that meant they would be spending the night here rather than returning to their friends.

“As you say, my friend. We can continue on our way in the morning,” Boromir replied, following Aragorn's lead and deliberately not using names as a means of their own protection.

Ably assisted by Aragorn and their young friend, Boromir managed to row the boat safely to the other shore. However, not only did the water seep in between the numerous cracks in the bottom of the boat, but is somehow managed to dampen all their clothing and it was two bedraggled men that the boy introduced to his mother.

The woman thanked them both profusely for rescuing her son, then offered a warm meal and a roof for the night that Aragorn gratefully accepted for them both. In reply to her query as to why they were visiting the village, Boromir quickly explained that they were explorers in need of supplies to allow them to continue their journey. Whether or not the tale was believed he was not certain, but the woman asked no further questions.

“Then it is fortunate you have arrived on market day. It is late, but there will still be many stalls open until well after dark,” she told them. Boromir then asked for directions to the village and with a promise to return by suppertime, the two men made their way to their destination.