Chapter Eleven

The horrible anguish in Frodo’s voice and eyes haunted Boromir. It raised ghostly memories of the other times he had seen such in some of the men he had fought alongside with. Some had slowly recovered as the pain receded and acceptance of what had happened took root and blame and guilt were released. Others never had returned from that desolate place where the hobbit now walked. The man did not know to which group his friend would ultimately belong, and that hurt almost as much as the other friends he had known.

“The whisper rose until it was a shout and a scream,” Boromir recounted slowly. “I could feel myself weaken before it even as I fought harder to hold out against it. It consumed me in a madness that only faded after you fled from me. I do not know exactly why after that, I heeded it no more. It still screamed but I would not listen. After I told Aragorn what happened, he forgave me and that broke its power completely. It fled from me.”

The warrior paused for a moment. The longing for his brother’s gentle, calming presence grew ever keener. Memories of that beloved face and smile flooded through him. They at once inspired him and reminded him that he was alone. “I do not know if I can help you, Frodo. It is a hard road you are on and in such unmapped darkness, I may be of little avail, but I would help you as I can.”

He held out his hand and felt Frodo’s much smaller one grasp it tight enough to hurt, but it was a welcome pain, for it was a recognition of the bond they had formed on the Quest. That had been ripped asunder through his own fault, but now it was re-forged stronger than ever because of shared pain and understanding of the terrible power that had torn them apart and now united them. The strength of that bond humbled the warrior anew.

“Thank you,” Frodo said softly. “Thank you for telling me that it fled. I will hold to that hope for myself, just as I held onto Sam’s, after mine was long gone.”

Elrond and Bilbo entered a few minutes later. Both felt the tremendous pain that lingered in the air. The hobbit’s eyes immediately darted to his beloved heartson, but Frodo would not immediately meet his eyes. The Elf-lord looked also at the Ring-bearer and recognized the pain there as similar to what he had felt buffet him when his wife had suffered through it so long ago. He reached out to her and showed her his heart and the pain that pummeled Frodo’s. She returned the mental embrace and enlarged it to touch the shattered spirit of the hobbit. Frodo sighed. A single tear escaped down his cheek.

Elrond’s attention turned to Boromir. “You are healing well,” he said after carefully examining the wounds. He nodded to Frodo, who rose and brought fresh bandages and tenderly wrapped them around the man with the Elf-lord’s assistance.

“I have had wonderful healers,” Boromir said. “Thank you.”

A slight smile danced on Elrond’s lips at the use of the plural. Indeed. He looked at the man and wondered what great purpose the Valar had that kept him from perishing. There was clearly still unfinished work for the man to do, and surely bound up with the tortured Ring-bearer, but what it was the Elf-lord could not see for certain. “You have a strong body and a strong will. That will aid you in the days ahead as your recovery continues.”

Elrond brought over a small bowl of broth. He nodded again to Frodo who positioned himself to feed Boromir. “This has some crushed pieces of lembas in it. It is given at times to the gravely ill to strengthen them. It will speed you on your way, but you have some days yet before you are well enough to rise.”

“I thank you again, my lord,” Boromir said.

Elrond watched as the warrior sipped slowly what Frodo carefully fed him. That the fates of man and hobbit were bound up together was ever clearer. The Elf-lord could see with other vision the slender but unbreakable bond that held them together as a silver cord entwining them both. He had seen a similar and stronger one embracing the Ring-bearer and his servant. Would the two now before him become so close?

After the scant meal was over, Boromir felt he had had a feast. It had been long since food has passed his lips, and he could feel himself strengthening. Frodo wiped his companions’s mouth and then resumed his place at the man’s side and took hold of his hand. The pain within had subsided enough for the Ring-bearer to face Bilbo’s concerned gaze. He wasn’t strong enough yet to smile, but in the distraction of taking care of another’s needs, the torment had returned to the familiar throb instead of the devouring fire of before.