Chapter Four

Boromir stared long at the face that shone bright with wonder and joy. How could that be after they parted as they did with him lost in the madness of the Ring and betraying the trust of its Bearer? The memories of that painful time blackened his sight and he wished he could flee from them but he could not. His terrible actions and words played out before him so vividly it was as though it was happening once more. Shame and loathing filled him and he was nearly lost. What saved him was feeling that small hand tighten around his as though the one who held his hand was aware of his struggle and wished to strengthen him. Dry lips parted but no sound came from the man.

“You have been gravely wounded,” a new voice came. “Do not try to move or speak as I tend to you.”

A different face swam into Boromir’s view and he opened his mouth in another attempt to talk as gentle hands began to minister to him.

“Silly!” Frodo chided. “When the Lord Elrond tells you not to move or speak, you best pay attention!”

Elrond? Was he back in Rivendell then by some marvel? As his return to consciousness deepened, he become more aware of his body and the terrible pain that began to spread as through fire. Before the mental torment of what he had done and tried to do to the Ring-bearer at Parth Galen had distracted him, but now a groan issued from his lips. He could feel each wound now as though freshly made. He fought to bring his mind to combat the agony and subdue it as he had during the battle with the Orcs. A tear slipped down his cheek. He had no strength to do more than endure the torment. It was his master now. He could not master it.

A gentle hand wiped at his cheek. The other hand let go of his for a moment and Boromir found himself adrift in his agony. He had no idea how much that touch had grounded him and he immediately mourned its loss. He wished to speak again but to his despair he remained mute.

“In order to heal you, Boromir, I need to put you asleep once more,” Elrond said. “Drink this slowly.”

Boromir felt his head raised and a cup brought to his lips. That same small hand held the cup and helped him drink.

“I’m so glad you are going to be all right now,” Frodo said. “You could not be in better hands than those of Lord Elrond. He cured me when no one else could have. Sleep now.”

Gently Boromir felt his head lowered to the pillow once more. He sighed softly. The last thing he was aware of before sleep took him once more was that hand taking his again. He felt safe and anchored once more.