 SERIES: "Boromir's Elves" (4/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 Four, Naegion's Bow The elf Naegion entered the Golden Wood carefully, knowing he was being watched and followed by the archers who patrolled there. He had recently come from Mirkwood, where he had used the excellent dandelion wine prepared by his friends Gellamon and Lothon to trade for cloth and thread. Although the Elves of Rauros were wont to wear little most of the time, when the weather turned cool and they were forced to traverse outside the cave for food and drink, they needed warm clothing. They also needed coverlets and pillows and rags to wash with. Naegion was proud of the large bundle he had strapped on his back and knew it was of great value to his group. He wore only a short loincloth and a belt which held a small knife. The knife had belonged to their last Manlord and was esteemed greatly by the elves, but Brogadan had agreed to let Naegion take it on his journey. It was good only for hand-to-hand combat, but it was better than being completely unarmed. Naegion knew it would be useless against the elves that guarded Lothlorien; he should have avoided these woods altogether, but he had long yearned to see the great city of the Golden Wood and to converse with the elfkind that lived thereabouts. Naegion's yellow-gold hair fell long and unadorned, and his light blue eyes were alert as he made his way through the mallorn trees. He was a beautiful creature, with smooth, sun-burnished skin over well-developed sinew. Like the other elves of his group, he always went barefoot, so the soles of his feet were thick, uninjured by the sharp twigs and gnarled roots that covered the forest floor. Naegion was unaware that a new Manlord had been discovered by the elves under the waterfall. He had told Brogadan that part of his trip would be spent searching for someone who could fill the role, but he hadn't really looked for such a person. Naegion wanted the Elves of Rauros to learn to live without a king, to produce for themselves and protect what was theirs, like other elves did. He had little desire to serve a man and even less to carry his seed. He was thinking about the ways of elves and men and wondering for the hundredth time why his group would not use their knowledge of male procreation to breed with one another rather than wait for the coming of a Manlord, when he was stayed in his path by a well-outfitted archer with a drawn bow. "You had better stop there and tell me your business, wood-elf, or we can carry your body out and throw it in the Silverlode. Which will it be?" This archer was of medium height -- not quite as tall as Naegion himself -- but he seemed taller draped in his impressive garb and elven dignity. Naegion sucked in his breath in a rush, impressed more than alarmed. He was aware of his danger, but not because of the verbal challenge; he had not understood a word of what was said. Naegion stepped just an inch forward, watching the archer carefully. "I don't speak your tongue," Naegion announced. "Do you understand this one?" The elf sentry looked surprised, but he did not lower his bow. "You speak the common tongue, but no elvish? What manner of elf are you?" he asked, speaking so Naegion could understand him. Naegion threw out his arms, palms upward, showing he held no weapon. "I'm a simple wood-elf, as you said. I come from a small band that lives near the falls, and I wanted to see the great elf city." The archer's eyes narrowed. "You live near the Cataracts of Rauros?" "Yes. Far from here." "I am Haldir, marchwarden of Lorien. We need no sight-seers here, especially man-loving elves of the rustic wood." The elf's voice was strong and clear and ripe with derision. Naegion dropped his arms; his face, too, fell, and shame played across it. He had never learned the artifice of guarding his emotions, which was one of the reasons his bid to be leader of the Elves of Rauros had failed. Now he turned quickly and began to walk away, his eyes clouding over with tears from the anger and mortification of being recognized as a Worshipper of Man. "Wait!" Naegion picked up his pace, determined this Haldir would not read the disgrace in his eyes. He began to run, but was stopped by a team of two archers who stepped from behind a mallorn tree and pointed their arrows directly at his chest. He stood, panting, then turned to face Haldir, defiant despite his tears. "These are my brothers, Orophin and Rumil," Haldir said, his tone more subdued. "Don't be so hasty, young elf. You give up too easily." "The waterfall is good enough for me!" Naegion said hotly. "I would stay in my cave rather than toady to an elf who thinks he's a king because he possesses a fine bow!" Haldir smiled. "I am no king, but there is a great lord and a great lady in this wood. Do you know of them?" Naegion nodded. "The White Witch. I know of her." Haldir's face hardened. "You will watch how you speak of our lady, Galadriel, young elf. You are impertinent." For a moment there was silence. Then Haldir lowered his bow and his brothers followed suit. His face softened as he gazed at Naegion. "What is your name, beautiful elf of Rauros?" "I am Naegion, which I am told means 'pain.'" "Naegion," Haldir said, reflecting. "An interesting name. Come with me now and have your tour of the Golden Wood. Then you may take word back to your brothers that there is no witch here, only a great lady and her lord. We elves of Lorien are known as the Galadrim." Haldir led Naegion through the mallorn trees and spent the next hour showing him the land of Lorien. At first Haldir's brothers followed not far behind, speaking to one another in the elf language Sindarin, which discomfited Naegion who was never sure whether they talked of him or not. Later they wandered off, either out of boredom or the realization that their brother no longer required their aid. Naegion tried to take in all the sights and smells of the mystical place, walking on a carpet of small yellow and pale white flowers, elanor and niphredil, gawking at the high houses nestled in the branches of the mallorns, the amazing dwelling places of the Galadrim. Finally he and Haldir stood together on a platform called a talan and gazed together across the wood to Caras Galadon, the royal city of Galadriel and her husband, Celeborn. Haldir sighed at the sight of it, and Naegion looked at him, recognizing the pride in his face. "You love your home," Naegion said. "Yes. I will be unhappy to leave it." "Leave it? Why would you leave?" Haldir hesitated, then he put an arm around Naegion's bare shoulders. "We elves are called to an important cause, to help defend the people of Rohan against the mighty Orc army sent by Saruman. Do you know of Saruman and Sauron?" Naegion nodded. "We Elves of Rauros know of Sauron. And I heard of Saruman when I was in Mirkwood. But why would you choose to fight beside men?" "Years ago our kind fought alongside men. There is no dishonor in it. In fact, I will be proud to journey with an elf army to the place they call Helm's Deep and fight alongside the leader Elessar and his brethren. For all we know, we may die there, but it will be a glorious end. There is no cause so great as the defense of Middle-earth." Naegion felt a stirring in his blood. "I want to go with you and fight, as well! I have no other cause to serve." Haldir smiled at him. "Are you trained to arms? Do you know how to use a bow like this one?" "I have a bow, but nothing like that. It's one I made myself for hunting. But I can learn. I'm the strongest of our group." "Brave, Naegion, there isn't time for you to learn now. But perhaps later you and all the elves of the falls will be called to arms. You should learn to use them." Naegion felt frustration well up inside his chest. "I want to learn! But there's no one to teach us!" "If I return from Helm's Deep, I will stop at Rauros and teach you myself. It would be a great honor." They left the platform and walked through a copse of trees toward the border of the Golden Wood, silent for a time. Naegion stared at the Haldir as he followed behind him, admiring his dignified posture and well-made garb. This was an elf with many important duties to fulfill and possibly glory in his future; he certainly had no time to waste on ignorant wood-elves! Naegion's eyes welled with tears again, and he tried to brush them away. This leader among elves would think him incredibly weak to cry like a child so often. But when Haldir looked at him, he was smiling again, his blue eyes kind and knowing. "You will make a great warrior, beautiful Naegion, I have a feeling." "You honor me," was all Naegion could answer. Haldir suddenly stopped and faced Naegion. "I want you to take this bow," he said. "I have another, a heavier one to use in times of war. I want you to practice with this and learn how it works." He took the bow and deftly unfastened the string. "You see? This is how to bend it and string it . . ." Haldir held Naegion's fingers beneath his as he gave him a lesson with the bow. Naegion handled the bow with enthusiasm, however awkwardly. "This is a fine bow. But I have nothing I can pay you with. I've traded all the dandelion wine already." Haldir moved close to Naegion's face. "You can offer me a great payment, beautiful Naegion. I will take a kiss in return for the bow." Naegion hesitated. He had never in his life kissed another elf; in fact, the only kisses he had shared were with his former lord, and he had found those unwelcome and even distasteful. But Haldir was a fine-looking elf and a great warrior. To kiss him would be something to remember with pride. Haldir didn't wait for Naegion to agree. He pressed his soft lips to Naegion's and kissed him firmly, flitting a pointed tongue into the young elf's mouth. Naegion felt a surge of power and emotion and fought a desire to reach up and grab at Haldir's perfectly coifed head. In just a few seconds the kiss ended, and Naegion stood, wavering, fighting to catch his breath. "Excellent payment," Haldir said, holding his bow and quiver out to Naegion. "Now be ready to show me what you've learned when I return from Rohan." Naegion nodded and took the gift, wishing he could embrace the dignified elf, but unsure of the proper etiquette. When Haldir saluted him by putting his palm across his chest, Naegion did the same. "Be safe," Haldir said, turning back toward Caras Galadon. "And you," Naegion replied. "I'll wait for your return." Naegion stood and watched Haldir's departure, fighting a strong yearning to go with him. For a short time he could make out the impressive elf perfectly; then the marchwarden of Lorien suddenly seemed to disappear among the mallorns and was gone. When Naegion was sure he would not reappear, he slowly started to walk south, the quiver of arrows across his back, the fine bow in his hands. The End, Part Four Part Five |