 SERIES: "Boromir's Elves" (1/WIP) Prologue: Volume Two of the Chronicles of Aster, found in the great and ancient library of the White City, Minas Tirith, tells a story of one of the heroes of Gondor and his adventures before, during and after the War of the Ring. This hero was a member of The Nine who went out from Rivendell to destroy the One Ring before it could fall back into the hands of Sauron. He was Boromir, son of Denethor, and he was believed killed during the journey to Mordor while trying to defend two hobbits, members of the Fellowship, from marauding Orcs who bore the mark of the white hand. The traditional tale has Boromir felled by Orc arrows and his body set upon the Great River Anduin in a boat holding his shield, his sword and the Horn of Gondor, which had been split in two during his final battle. When members of the Fellowship last see Boromir, his boat is headed toward the cataracts of Rauros. The Chronicles pick up the tale after Boromir has been set adrift, when his body is discovered by a group of elves who live in a cave beneath the falls. These elves are rarely found in any of the histories of Middle Earth, and their very existence holds a sense of legend. The Elves of Rauros were descendents of the Nandor who had taken to the woods and settled near Lorien. At the beginning of the Third Age, several dozen of these sylvan elves had broken off and founded a colony of their own, which became a sort of elven cult later spoken of in whispers as the Worshippers of Man or Man-Loving Elves. Gifted with the secret of male procreation, they were known to take a man as their king and to mix their blood with his. Before they found Boromir, their number had dwindled greatly, many having been killed by Orcs or dangerous beasts in the surrounding woods. Several had pined away and died after the loss of their most recent lord many years earlier. Without a new Manlord, the Elves of Rauros would soon cease to be. When one of their number found the boat containing the son of Gondor, their fate was left to be decided by he alone. They were forevermore to be known as Boromir's Elves. Part One, "Aradol's Treasure" The young elf, Aradol, wandered along the banks of the river, carefully placing one foot after the next as he studied the marshy ground, looking for items of use that might have washed up on shore after going over the falls. He was a gifted scavenger, which was important to the group of 18 elves who lived in the labyrinth of caves under the falls. Often Aradol was able to find special treasures, like casks of ale, flasks of wine or crates of cloth that had come down-river from Lorien or even farther away. The elves lived on what they could gather or trap, as they were unskilled in hunting or farming. Aradol was the youngest of the group, but he was tall and strong, with a sunny temperament that could be tempted into mischief from time to time by one of the older elves. He was young enough that his memory of their last Manlord was very faint; still he had heard many stories of him from the others, not all of them happy ones. When he saw the boat caught in the tall, marshy grass of the river bank, he imagined all sorts of treasures inside. He recognized it as having come from Lorien, which had been the source of some of his greatest finds. What would it hold now? Elven weapons would be most welcome, as the bows and arrows made by his group were flimsy and ineffective; and without any metal to be found, the Elves of Rauros were bereft of real weapons. One of their group had recently gone away to look for a new Manlord while he traded with the elves of Mirkwood for supplies. He was Naegion, the brave and beautiful, who had recently lost out to Brogadan to be their leader. Naegion believed the Elves of Rauros could not wait in their cave forever for a new lord to find them; he wanted them to learn to hunt and fight for themselves. He hoped to trade some of the fine dandelion wine made by the group for weapons with which they could train. He had been gone for more than two weeks, and although this is but a blink of an eye to most elves, to this group it seemed like an eternity. The loss of one of their 18 was tremendous, and it was feared Naegion would never return. He could have already been the victim of one of the fierce and horrible creatures that wander the woods, especially around Mirkwood. Or, he could have found a life he preferred to that under the waterfall, which would be, perhaps, worse. Aradol swept his long, fair hair away from his face and tied it up with a thong, fashioning a golden tail on the top of his head. He was covered only by a small cloth wrapped around his loins, and his exposed skin was burnished by the sun. His long, slender legs bowed as he crept carefully toward the beached river-craft, his anticipation growing. When he looked in the boat, he caught his breath. The sight inside was the most beautiful he had ever seen -- a tall, handsome man, clearly a great warrior, laid out on his back with a sword on his chest and a shield behind his head. The man appeared to be either in a deep sleep or dead, and Aradol fervently hoped it was the former of the two. How had this man come to be in this boat? Who would have set this man in the Great River and sent him toward the falls except the Lady of Light, the witch elf, who, knowing of the tribulations of the Elves of Rauros, had chosen for them a new king? This man had to be alive; it would be too cruel to believe otherwise. Aradol tore his gaze away from the beautiful sight in the boat, and waded inland, where the ground was more firm. Once he had his footing, he started to run, then to shout. He had found a wonderful treasure, a new Manlord for the elves! "Brogadan! Berion! Come quickly! Hurry!" Aradol was out of breath as he ran toward the hill where the entrance to the cave was secreted among rocks and trees. He saw Berion first, coming from another direction, looking quizzically toward the cause of the excitement. Then Brogadan stuck his head out of the overgrowth on the hill, clearly annoyed at the commotion. "Come! Hurry! I've found him! I've found him!" Berion was soon at his side. "You've found who, young one? Sauron himself?" Even in the woods, the elves had heard tales of Middle Earth and the evils of Sauron. "What are you calling for?" Brogadan asked crossly. "You could be heard by anyone. You shouldn't make yourself so obvious in the middle of the day." The Elves of Rauros had long learned to keep their existence secret from the world, as many, both elves and men, disapproved of their ways. "I've found our lord! I've found him!" Brogadan, the leader of the group by virtue of a contest and a vote, put his hand on the young man's shoulder and gave him a long look. "Quiet yourself and make sense," he said firmly. "Where is this man?" Brogadan was the tallest of the group and one of the strongest; he had wide shoulders, a muscled chest, an intense face with dark eyes and brows, and thick dark hair pulled back on his head. As the leader, he was usually the most serious, as was evident now. Berion, on the other hand, could often not control the glint of merriment in his eyes; by virtue of his quickness and fearlessness, he had been chosen the protector of the group, but he chafed at taking orders from Brogadan and was known to have supported Naegion in his bid to be leader. Berion also had dark eyes and hair, which he wore hanging free and unkempt; he was well-formed, though several inches shorter than the leader. He stood aside now, watching, hands on his naked hips. Berion often wore nothing at all, even when running through the woods. Most of the Elves of Rauros wore very little, which had added to their mystique when occasionally glimpsed from afar by travelers in the woods. "Take us to the spot," he finally interrupted. "Let's see what you've found." Aradol pointed down-river and started to run again. Berion trotted after, but Brogadan sighed and followed slowly, refusing to be rushed. By the time the leader had reached the boat, Berion was already pointing and exclaiming over the treasure within. Brogadan's eyes widened at the sight of the man. "Don't touch him," he commanded, as Berion reached for the severed horn. "Leave everything as it is!" "We have to see if he's alive," Berion protested. "We have to get him out of the boat." "Go and find Elnestor. Tell him to come at once!" Aradol nodded. Elnestor was the healer of the group, and his skills might be needed to rouse the Manlord. As the fastest of the three, Berion set off running toward the hill, paying no heed to the marshes sucking at his feet. Brogadan knelt down by the boat, and Aradol followed suit. "Please, let this truly be our new lord," Brogadan said in a husky voice. Aradol, intimidated just a little by the leader, spoke haltingly. "Perhaps . . . perhaps he is a gift from the White Witch. They say she sees all, and she must know our plight." To Aradol's surprise, Brogadan nodded gravely at him. "Perhaps," he agreed. Berion soon returned with Elnestor, their tall, slender healer. Although it had been several minutes, the man in the boat had not stirred. Elnestor moved the heavy sword aside and leaned over him and laid his head on the man's chest. As he watched, Brogadan was visibly holding his breath. "He's injured," Elnestor reported. "If he lives at all, it's only a little. We must get him to the cave." When Elnestor sat up, the other elves stared at him. Aradol made a little sound. There was blood on Elnestor's cheek where it had touched the man's chest. Brogadan stood up. "Let's lift him carefully from the boat. Aradol, you go ahead to the cave and prepare a place. Get Himmion and Balan to help, and have Melvedir fetch fresh water. Hurry!" Brogadan and Berion lifted the man between them, then Brogadan took the heavy body and cradled it in his arms like a babe and carried him toward the cave. "What about the boat?" Berion called after him. "Leave it for now!" Berion stood at the boat, surveying its contents once more. Disobeying the leader, he lifted the severed horn and studied it carefully, turning it around in his hands before tossing the useless pieces in the river. He looked longingly at the sword and shield. He would not leave these so some other scavenger could find them! He picked them up and felt their weight. They were so heavy! He'd take these to the cave with him, for if the man died, these would belong to the Elves of Rauros. As much as they needed a new Manlord, Berion agreed with Naegion that they also needed weapons. Regardless of the fate of the man inside, the boat had indeed carried a great treasure. The End, Part One Part Two
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