Saving Me | By : RikuRocks Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1368 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to The Lord of the Rings, nor am I making any money from this work of fiction. |
The snow became thicker and crueller as the Fellowship worked it’s way up the Caradhras, but a sense of comradeship grew as the nine had travelled and struggled together. Boromir felt this as well as any while he and Aragorn dug a path through a seemingly impassable snowdrift for the others to pass through. He felt it even more so when Legolas, proving the inconceivable light weight of his kind by walking above the virgin snow, came to them just as they were beginning to grow disheartened and bade them to keep going, as they only had a short distance left to plough through.
Their efforts were appreciated, but turned out to be in vain regardless, as the mountain path proved impassable later on. When the time came to vote upon their next course of action, Boromir again found himself and Aragorn on the same ground. When he voiced his desire to hear Legolas’ opinion on the matter, the elf did not say that he would not go to Moria, as Boromir had, but that he wished not to. His tone concerned the Gondorian, but other matters needed to be attended to as the Ring Bearer decided to go through Moria and they were later attacked by Wargs. Once again, Boromir felt the camaraderie of brothers in arms as he, Legolas, Aragorn, Gimli, and Gandalf fought off the foul wolves of Sauron.
They were up early the next day and pressed hard to reach the gates of Moria by sunset. The company was too tired and footsore for much conversation, so they followed Gandalf and Gimli’s lead, with Legolas falling back to keep a lookout for another attack with his keen elfish vision. The weather at least, had improved, as the forces that bade them for the previous storm no longer had need of the harsh snow and wind.
Boromir strayed back enough to remain near Legolas while still keeping close enough to the Hobbits in the case that the elf should see trouble coming. The elf nodded to him in acknowledgment before asking quietly, “Pelich peded i lam-in-edhil?”
The captain furrowed his brows slightly, understanding that a question was being asked of him by the elf’s tone and expression, but having no clue as to what the fair being was saying. “Nin heniach?” questioned Leogolas before his eyes softened and he smiled lightly. “I’ll take your expression as a negative.”
Boromir’s brows furrowed further as he thought for a moment, then he offered a small smile in return. “I take it you were asking me if I speak Elvish?” The elf nodded and the man’s smile deepened. “Then your conclusion is correct. Many in Gondor know the elfin tongue, my brother among them, but I have never known any need or desire to before.”
“Before?” Legolas repeated quizzically. “Does that mean you desire so now?”
“After more than two months in Rivendell and nearly another in the company of an elf, a ranger, and a wizard, all of whom speak the language,” Boromir chuckled warmly, “Yes, I do.”
“Melon tiriad chin gin calar ir glahach,” commented the elf lightly before nodding his head to the Gondorian once in apology, “Gohono nin. I understand. My own skills in Westron are only passable.”
Boromir nodded, “So you were more intent on learning your defences?” He continued once the fair being nodded, “The same goes for me. I always preferred to be outside, practicing swordplay or moving about to sitting indoors with books and scrolls.”
“I would rather learn from a living tree than dead pages,” agreed the elf with a nod. Then he appeared thoughtful for a brief moment. “Does your father speak the high speech?”
“He does, well enough for his purposes in any case,” replied the captain, looking at the elf curiously. “Why?”
“Your name,” replied Legolas with a grin. “It means ‘faithful treasure’ in the old tongue.”
Boromir was not sure how to respond to that, but was spared the need to as Gimli, who had pressed on ahead, suddenly called back to the others. Running ahead to see what the dwarf had found, they saw a small stream, which Gandalf named the gate-stream. All pleasant talk died as they approached the gates of Moria.
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