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Ch. 37 - Boromir’s Undoing – A Double Drabble
Fathomless miles fall before my eyes. I see the wizard hanging on and I can do nothing; I am holding the little one. He strains and I find it incredible that he would almost pull me with him; such is his ardor to help Mithrandir. But it is folly. I cannot let him try. The bridge will collapse. So much of it is already gone. A lost cause, I know. Mithrandir struggles, stares as we freeze in horror, barks at us to run, and then, in a moment, a heartbeat, a breath – he is gone. He has let his hands free. He falls. He falls.
The Halfling screams pushing against my arms: arms that are there to save him, not hold him back, and I find I must pick him up and carry him away ere he too falls prey to those bottomless leagues. I expect him to pummel me in his anger and grief. But he holds on tightly, little hands clasping the cloth as he continues to scream the name of his supporter.
A short while ago, I was grateful for these hands that helped release Gimli’s grief. Now they help to separate friends. Frodo must hate me.
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