Boromir's Ride
by Onóno Laivindur
I II
Chapter Ten: "Tharbad"
Chapter 10 (Part 1 of 2)
"Tharbad"
Gwynn nuzzled his face and pulled at the reins trying to wake Boromir.
“You are cruel Gwynn, I was having a very pleasant dream and her kiss
was much better than yours.” He said, wiping his face and sitting up.
He looked about the glen and shadowed his eyes observing the sun,
trying to estimate the time. “It is still early. You could have let me
sleep a bit more. I know we should be on our way, just give me a moment
please.” Boromir rose wearily and felt the stiffness that had set into
his muscles as Gwynn pulled yet again. “ If you don’t stop I am…” He
cut short the threat. He was surrounded. The woods all about were
filled with dark hairy faces and shadows of those half hidden behind
the trees. He remembered Erkenbrand’s warnings and without hesitation
swung himself up into the saddle and Gwynn reared and twisted around
bolting down the small deer path where they had entered the glen by the
night before. Boromir laid himself flat along her neck as arrows missed
their mark and ricocheted among the branches. Four of the Dunlanders
retreated hastily out of the charging horses path and a chores of yelps
and bellows rang through the trees as Gwynn raced across the open field
with mud and grass flying wildly in her wake. “That’s my girl!” Boromir
called to her and leaned forward urging her ever on. “I take back my
words.” He said almost laughing, “For me there is no other. You are my
one and only!”
Within minutes, over a small rise, the ground fell away revealing the
Old Road and the village from whence the curious men of Dunland had
came from. Boromir then slowed Gwynn and kept his distance from the
village and skirted the easting side of the road knowing full well
there was no welcome there and probably the vary village that was
subdued by the Rohirrim only a day or so before. Maybe they were yet
sore from the visit of Erkenbrand and thus hesitated before setting
upon him in the glen. Boromir had studied the map given him by
Olinbrand and knew he had only to follow this rode, at whatever
distance, north-west until he made Tharbad and then from there follow
the river road north-east to the vale where lay Rivendell.
“Well girl, you saved me yet again and once we have put some ground
between us and them we shall break-fast and I shall walk with you for a
time and give your poor legs a rest. Did you see the look on their
faces when you came charging between them? Now that my dear was fear
it’s self. They looked as if the evil one himself was after them.”
Boromir smiled and patted and stroked her neck and mane.
As the road started up a rise and met a rocky summit it passed between
two carrocks, like sentinels they stood, fingers of stone. Here would
be a safe place to stop and rest. It also would be a perfect place for
an ambush. Boromir considered whether to go around or go there and take
the high ground for a break and a rest. “What do you think Gwynn? Do
you smell anything up there?” He nudged her forward letting slack the
reins allowing her some freedom should she see fit to go another way if
she decided to. He allowed her to come right before the pass and halted
there, waiting, looking, smelling, and feeling, for any sense of
danger. He held his breath and listened. He leaned slightly forward and
Gwynn responded to his command, slowly moving forward. He watched her
ears, they were forward, and he knew as they entered between the
pillars of rock they were committed now to whatever waited. Horse and
rider passed through the gate and saw nothing save two rock doves that
called this place home.
“Alright girl here we shall rest.” So saying Boromir eased from the
saddle still wary and scouting with his eyes in both directions looking
for any that followed and what yet may lay ahead. From this place he
figured he could see 30 leagues at least and so took time to feed Gwynn
and while she ate tended her wounds, which seemed to be healing over
and so he also took some food and enjoyed the gifts of the Rohirrim.
As promised he walked with Gwynn down the long slope following the road
and the safety it provided being so much higher than the surrounding
country. No one would approach them unseen or heard for some distance.
They continued along the road for some hours before Boromir mounted
again and they traveled ever northern towards the ruined city of
Tharbad. It was once a great city and trading center but had fallen to
ruins after being sacked and burned and now was little more than a pile
of hewn stone rubble.
Looking over the map given him, he estimated another three hundred and
fifty miles yet before they would come to the river and the valley of
Tharbad. Folding and putting the map away he noticed a farmer swinging
a scythe in a golden field and beyond yet a single house and a barn
with a corral. He thought how Toralt would be cutting his own wheat
this time of year and of Thieli tending her garden and cattle and those
noisy geese in the back yard. He shook his head scattering the thoughts
and frowned.
A week of road rising and falling, with hot days and cold nights,
wearied both horse and rider. Gwynn found the grasses dry and the
drinking water brackish. Boromir was out of stores for them both and
had resorted to taking his meals fresh from the countryside. Birds and
rabbits mostly and one young buck, which he dried and smoked making a
salt cure, and hoped it would be enough for some time. He was not eager
to camp and raise a smoke trail for those around to follow. He made
cold camps at night when they were even a mile or two from a farm.
Gwynn had made a recovery from her wounds at the hands of the orcs and
had only picked up one stone in her right rear hoof one night, but it
came loose and did not trouble her much, only a bruise.
The land was ever giving way before them and falling down into the
valley that fed the river Greyflood and the crossing at Tharbad.
Boromir knew he would get sight of it soon and the safe road they had
enjoyed would pass behind them. To his right stood a solitary feed barn
full of newly gathered hay. He pulled Gwynn to the side and thought
nothing of taking what she needed and filling the feedbag with what he
could. Further along the road they came to the farm and the owner of
the land. He was shorter than Boromir and stocky. There were four
children playing in the yard, a game of tag with a rooster who it
appeared, had them all bullied. Boromir ventured a greeting to the man
and was relieved to be granted a welcome of sorts as the farmer waved
him on in and walked up to met him. Boromir wanted to ask this fellow
questions and perhaps buy or trade for some food and drink.
"G'day to ya Sir. What brings ya to my land? Are ya alone? Do ya have a
need? Do ya have any news from the east? Would ya like a drink or could
I be offerin' ya a meal?" The farmer wanted to say more but Boromir
raised his large hand and shook it back and forth waving off any more
questions. The children scurried to the house and watched from the
door, their little heads stacked along edge of it peeking out.
"You are kind Sir and I would only ask some fresh water for my horse
and a fill for my water skins. It is a dry trail and I wondered if you
could say how far we are from the river and Tharbad?" Boromir eyed the
man and the surrounding buildings looking for any other persons.
"The river be two days as the crebain flies and a bit more on the road.
Ya won't 'ave any trouble findin' it, but ya might 'ave trouble when ya
reach there. There be somethin' a fearin' the folks around there and
nasty's be goin' and comin' through these parts for two moons or so. I
'ave seen wit me own eyes black 'orses with dark clad riders. Black
spirits sez I, and they scared my dogs off. I feared for our lives and
not four nights back many growling beasts with red coal eyes ran past
'ere like they was chasing after somethin'. No Sir you won't 'ave
trouble making Tharbad but I warn ya, Watch to yer self when you get
there. It is a den of thieves and murders." The farmer pointed to the
trough for Gwynn and walked toward it, stopped and turned beckoning
Boromir to follow. "C'mon sir and I will show ya to the well."
Boromir said naught but grin and nodded, leading Gwynn along after him.
"Pardon my asking, but do you live here alone?" Boromir queried.
"Just me and the family. We moved down from the Greenway, up by Bree we
were, and found that a man could 'ave as much land down south 'ere as
he could work, so we moved along wit' four other families. They 'ave
farms along the Old Road as well, and if ya follow it to Tharbad you
will see 'em. You can tell' em ol' Tom Swanford gives greetings and
they will show a kindness. My wife is down visitin' with the Canfields,
as they are expecting a new child in a week or so. Their place is
nearest; say about five miles or so. Say, do you 'ave children as a
wife?" Tom said. "No sir, no wife." Boromir said dryly.
Gwynn had finished drinking and Tom lead Boromir around the side of the
barn where there was a well. Drawing from the well for Boromir, Tom
went on telling and questioning about things and Boromir tried to be
polite but not forthcoming with much information.
"Well I must be making haste and do thank you for your kindness Mister
Swanford. Should I see your friends and wife I shall give greetings.
Any messages or letters would you have me carry to them?" Boromir tried
to sound humble and thankful for the water and information. "No sir,
not really, just if you meet my Violet tell her we are well and miss
her."
The children watched as Boromir left and came running from the house
giggling and boldly chasing after him until they made the road and
stopped in their tracks, not allowed to go further. Boromir halted and
turned in the saddle. He reached into his purse and tossed them some
coins. Which made the children forget the fear of father's warnings.
They picked up the shiny coins and scurried back to the farmhouse in a
chorus of laughter and giggles.
II.
Boromir felt better after meeting Tom Swanford. He grinned as he rode
thinking how the children played and how cordial the man was. He
thought to himself that not all Dunlanders are bad as he had been
warned but then this fellow was not from here and had not been at odds
with the Rohirrim for ages. He rode on and as the sun descended he came
to a wagon road that cut into the trial and headed south to a farm.
Boromir paused for a moment and considered approaching the farm and
possibly having a warm meal and a bed for the night. He could meet
Violet and bring news of the family. He turned aside and continued
along the Old Road thinking it best not to disturb them as an uninvited
guest this late in the day and felt better for it. He and Gwynn would
find some place to rest and start again early so it was best. Yes it
was best.
One day after the other they traveled and met no one else. Cold camps
and cured meat was his stay. Gwynn had some fresh hay for two days and
a creek bed yielded some green grass on an otherwise dry golden plain.
The third day out from Swanford’s place Boromir topped a rise and
before him lie, on his left hand lay the river Gwathlo, or Grayflood,
in the common tongue. It flowed from the ruins of Tharbad southwest to
the Great Sea. On his right he could see the confluence of the river
Hoarwell and the Glanduin. They all came together at Tharbad. Once it
was a great river port. The Old North-South Road turned into the
Greenway from Tharbad as it went ever on towards the northwest. This
road stretched across Middle-Earth and was once The Royal Road
maintained by Numenorean Kings for trade and rule over these lands. The
Great Elves Celeborn and Galadriel traversed it when they lived by the
sea. Sauron came this way in ancient times to battle with Gil-galad and
the Great Elves and the evil one was defeated and routed back into
Mordor. The Great River Port of Tharbad once home to Tar- Aldarion King
of the Numenoreans was battle torn and laid to waste. Age upon age came
and went but the great earthen battlements and bridge remained intake
all that was left of the once glorious capital of Middle-Earth. Boromir
remembered his history lessons. His mind could envision the vast armies
that fought over this jewel, this crossroads of plenty. His people were
a remnant of the glory that stood here so many thousands of years ago.
Boromir eased his way down into the low valley ever watchful and increasing nervous.
He knew he would make the river by late afternoon and decided to draw
near but remain on the east bank and not enter the city and cross the
bridge. He planned to look for a river path to follow the bank up the
river along the river Hoarwell to the river Glanduin and cross it to
make way through the Swan marsh and northeast to Imladris.
Riding closer to the old city he could make out crude settlements along
the banks. He saw many small boats in the river some round and some
long and shallow built with almost no sides almost like rafts. The men
stood and maneuvered with poles along the banks. He saw some with nets
throwing and drawing in. A few young children tended goats and women
were carrying water in large cisterns hanging on the ends of poles they
bore across their shoulders. Smoke rose from large sheds where they
cured the meat of the fish. And racks of fish hung in the sun drying.
Boromir studied them and wondered how different were they really from
his people. They were poor and had not the fine things as in his
cities. These people were short and stout and weathered in clothing and
appearance. It seemed they did not even take notice of him. He was glad
for it and as he neared the bank he found what he had hoped for, a path
skirting the riverbank and it was wide as a cart. Gwynn made the turn
northeast to follow the path without his direction and Boromir saw how
full the river was. It looked smooth and calm at first but he could
judge it ran fast by the small branches flowing down stream and the
fallen trees that lay beneath the surface with their top most branches
bobbing up and down as the current pulled at them. Across the river he
marveled at the huge stone works and broken towers. He would have
enjoyed spending days looking over this once great city and the stone
work that had gone into making it. An hour maybe two he rode along and
would turn and look thoughtfully at the remains of the city he had only
read of and heard tales of as it became smaller and disappeared from
his sight, back into legend.
Boromir turned Gwynn away from the bank and over to a thin wood line
that was only a hundred paces up a sleight mound. As they entered there
he saw a tall stone in the center of a clearing and riding closer could
see all around him small mounds encircling the clearing and he froze.
"Barrows!" His lungs emptied out the words and he turned Gwynn in hast
and made for the river path. He spurred her on and they cleared the
wood and headed north at a run. Boromir looked over his should and saw
nothing. He reined in Gwynn and shivered as they stopped. "Look at me!
Like an old woman full of fear." He laughed and shook his head as well
did Gwynn. He leaned forward and they started again. "Next time you
pick a place to sleep." He said fondly to her.
The sun had set and the starlight was paled by the full moon. A large
harvest moon climbed into the night sky and Boromir moved of the path
and found a stand of oaks that were just starting to surrender their
leaves to the summer. He dismounted and tied the reins to a bough and
wished he had not lost his ground cloth back in that glen a fortnight
ago. He leaned back and rested against a trunk wrapping himself in his
cloak. "You have first watch Gwynn, I need some sleep." He thought she
snorted in reply and closed his eyes.
Boromir awoke slapping himself in the face. "What's this? Ants!" He
jumped up slapping and brushing himself off as the tiny red creatures
bit him in disapproval.
"Gwynn that’s the last time you pick a place to sleep." He barked at
her. "Gwynn!" She was gone. Boromir shouldered his shield and swatted
at the ants in his hair and down his neck. He ran down to the path
following her hoof prints. She was led by two men and headed back to
Tharbad. "How could they slip away with her?" He cursed. "How could I
let this happen?" Boromir went into a dog run crouched low and steady.
He could run this way for hours and would be able to track them as well.
Boromir saw some of the villagers watching him as his neared the
bridge. A small girl pointed across the river and was slapped down for
her trouble by her mother. Boromir stopped and stared at them all and
drew his sword. The villagers emptied the path back into their huts.
Boromir put his shield to arm and ran full speed across the bridge
stopping for a second only to pick up again the trail. He could follow
Gwynn anywhere. Her shoes bore a G at the corners and he would find her
among a thousand horses. Boromir realized they were crisscrossing the
road trying to lose the trail but doubted they saw her mark. He knew
they would see or hear him coming but cared not and hoped sooner than
later as he was winded. He saw them some hundred paces ahead making for
the river pulling at Gwynn with a rope around her neck and a sack over
her head. The man behind was switching her quarters with a whip. They
were small thick, strong men that looked like the people that attacked
Toralt. Boromir race towards them as he closed and bellowed in anger
with all his might "Gondor! Gondor! Gondor!" brandishing his sword over
his head and slapping his shield with the blade creating a deafening
clang. Almost upon them the two Dunlanders fled for their lives in
retreat into the ruins. Boromir reached Gwynn and removed the sack from
her head. She was froth at the bit and wide eyed in confusion. He
shouldered his shield and grasping the saddle mounted as many men
rushed towards them from behind the stone ruins of a building, throwing
spears and tridents and bent on killing Boromir.
Boromir spurred Gwynn away from the fray and she leapt forward and miss
stepped at the edge of the riverbank, plunging down into the river.
Both horse and rider were instantly sinking. Boromir slid back and
grabbed Gwynn's tail as she swam with her head above the current, for
the eastern bank. In a moment they were under the bridge and about
midstream. Gwynn was snorting out water as it got in her nose and
Boromir found it almost impossible to hold on weighted down with his
heavy cloak and shield. He choked and spat as he fought to stay head
above water holding on to Gwynn as she swam. Boromir went under with
her one last time, she had too much water in her lungs and could not go
further. The current pulled them down and he let her tail slip from his
fingers as the dark green depths of the river took her away from him.
As all went dark he felt hands clutching his hair and cloak pulling him
back up into the air. He gasped for breath and spewed out the river
gagging and choking from his lungs. The river folk had drawn him from
the river and laid him on the eastern bank. He thrashed about shaking
off their hands and stood grasping his sword. They screamed and leapt
back from this stranger. Boromir looked to the river for sight of Gwynn
but saw nothing. He collapsed down to his knees and shuddered and wept
for a moment then forced himself up and stood facing the small group
that stared in wonder at this giant of a man with sword in hand. The
small girl, he had seen before came up to him and held out her hand,
palm up, in peace to him. Boromir sheathed his sword and took her hand
and she led him to her hut and pointed for him to sit. Boromir looked
into the child's face and she smiled at him. Boromir heard the cries of
the men across the river and at once the villager's sent up a great
chorus of voices in rebuttal but the language he did not understand and
it seemed it different than those of the western bank. The men across
the river complained and beat and stamped the ground and the villagers
made some talk and signs with their hands and the wild men moved off in
anger.
Boromir looked into the eyes of those around him and back to the child.
He held out his palm open in peace towards them and bowed his head. He
straightened his cloak and shouldered his shield and started to walk
north again down the path. The two men that fished him from the river
stood in his way and pointed across the river and one shook his head
and said something Boromir did not understand and he made two swift
crosses across his throat signifying to Boromir they, across the river,
would kill him. The other man shouted something to someone behind the
group of huts and a young man came trotting out a dark horse with an
old saddle and blanket for him. Boromir knew better than to refuse at
this point. "Thank you! I owe you a life and more." Boromir said and
bowed and walked up and clasped the arm of the man. He took the reins
of the horse and checked the saddle straps, mounted and bowed again. He
took off his hunting knife with the jeweled scabbard that his father
had given him and tossed it to the small girl.
Boromir turned and gave a look to the western bank and those that
waited there and spurred the horse forward at a gallop. Passing the
bridge he looked over his shoulder to the fisherman and waved goodbye.
He ran that horse most of the day and rested for a short while then
mounted and walked the rest of that night, unable and unwilling to
sleep.
