My Sword Trembles
by Agape4Rivendell
Chapter 11: Fearsome Journey
His voice froze as terror gripped him and water
rushed down his throat. Sputtering wildly, he thrashed about, trying to
remember all his father had told him about badgers; however, the
creature let go as soon as they entered the water. Then the cold river
swept him away. He could not catch his breath; the currents of the
mighty Anduin dragged him under, until at last, it pulled him to the
quieter middle. His head bumped against something and, instinctively he
reached out and held on for dear life. A branch it was and not too
small. He clung for his very life and cried out.
The river rushed him southward. The cold seeped into his very being and
he sobbed. ‘I will not be able to hold on long. Mayhap one of Durahil’s
men will see me.’ He called out again, but the river took him
inexorably away. He gasped and choked as a small whitecap slammed
against him. ‘The Harlond. If I can hold on long enough, I will pass
the Harlond. Someone will see me there.’ He clenched his teeth as a
bitter chill ran through him. Again he sobbed then called as loudly as
he could. Tears filled his eyes as his chin shook, more from fear and
sorrow than cold. But his body betrayed him and began to seriously
shake. ‘I cannot let go,’ he told himself. ‘I must hang on else I
drown.’
After what seemed like at least an hour, the river’s current let up
a little. A small piece of land stuck out from the eastern shore. The
current swept Faramir towards it. ‘If I can reach it, I will be safe,’
he thought and forgot everything his father had taught him. He let go
the log and struck out furiously. But his arms were tired from the cold
and the fear, and he soon began to sink. Terror gripped him again and
he thrashed about, but to no avail. At last, his head dipped under. His
mouth opened in alarm and he took in great quantities of water before
he had the sense to close it again. He struggled to reach the surface.
Pain ripped through both shoulders. He gasped again, but this time,
found his face out of the water. ‘How?’ He thrashed about some more,
but the pain in his shoulders only increased. He stilled as some
unknown force dragged his body. At last, his feet touched bottom. He
choked back a sob and tried to stand. The water pushed at him but
whatever held him helped him to reach the shore. He fell on his back,
gasping for air, crying and sobbing. After a few moments, he opened his
eyes and looked up; he watched in amaze as a great golden eagle flew
away into the night. He shuddered in surprise and confusion. Soon his
eyes glazed over and Faramir knew no more.
~*~
Borondir took his time pulling down his own tent. He had made their
meal and was waiting for the boys to wake. They had laughed long into
the night; he had not expected them to wake early. When he finished
packing his tent, he sat by their fire. The warmth felt good; though
there was a slight drizzle, it was not enough to cause discomfort, yet.
He looked north towards the storm clouds coming closer. At last he knew
he could wait no longer. He would have to wake them. Pulling up the
untied tent flap, he muttered at the boys’ negligence. “Come, Faramir,
Targon. We must be away soon. Get yourselves up and pack this tent.” He
stopped in confusion. There was only one boy asleep in the tent. He
gently shook Targon. “Where is Faramir?”
The boy blinked his eyes and rubbed them. “Probably at the river, relieving himself.”
“I did not see him.” Fear skidded across his eyes. “Get up, Targon, and help me look for him.”
After two minutes, Borondir signaled the alarm. Six soldiers were
at his side in a moment’s time. “Faramir is missing. Search the camp.”
Not waiting for a response, he moved towards their privy.
Thankfully, the rains were not enough to obliterate any footprints.
Though they were heavy on the way to and from their little makeshift
latrine, he found markings leading to the river. He gasped as he
recognized the tracks of a rather large badger. Next to Faramir’s
tracks. He followed them only a short distance. Faramir had fallen into
the river! His broken curse echoed loudly. Targon ran to him, followed
by the knights.
“Did anyone hear or see anything last night? In the river?”
The men looked from one to the other. “Nay,” was the consensus.
“He has fallen into the river. There is blood on the rocks. He must
have been bitten by the badger. We need to find him quickly. He could
be sorely wounded. Send a patrol down the river.” A soldier quickly
saluted and left. “Ride to Osgiliath and send out patrols on that side.
We must find him.” Another soldier saluted and left. The rest began
moving southward.
Targon’s face had gone white, but the lad immediately started to pull down their tent.
“Nay, Targon. We will keep our camp here. We will use this as our
meeting point. You will be in charge of the camp. Can you do that?”
“Yes. And I will make sure there is hot tea and food for those who
need it. And warm blankets, in case… Oh, Borondir. Do you think he is
all right?”
“I know not. Can he swim?”
“I think he can. In fact, I know he can. He told me of Boromir teaching him.” The boy sobbed, but stood straight.
“That is good news. Yet, the river is strong and cold. The storm
has probably hit further north already. Do you see the tree limbs and
debris in the river? He could be hit by one. He is in deep trouble,
Targon, but we will do everything we can to find him. If you would fish
this morning? It would help to have fresh food for the men as they
search.”
The cook’s apprentice nodded. “I can do that. Anything else, please let me know.”
Durahil strode into camp. “He is lost?” A storm of fury spat from the man’s eyes.
“He is. He must have risen in the night to relieve himself. A
badger attacked. The footprints are clear. He fell into the river.”
“Did you not scout for…? Enough. I will send a rider to Indis. We will need more men.”
“Did you send someone across the river?”
“Yes. Though it will be an hour at least before the search begins
on that side. The river flows swiftly.” Durahil swore. “Forgive me,
Targon, I should not speak those words in front of you.”
The boy just nodded his head as he busied himself getting two lines
set with bait. He walked quickly to the river and threw them in.
“Targon is in charge of the camp.”
Durahil smiled despite himself. “Thank you, lad. Tea?”
“It is ready, my Lord.”
The six men who had first answered Borondir’s call for help returned.
“There is no sign, for the next mile, of any markings on the shore. We
will send patrols further south. If he made landfall on this side of
the river, we will find him.”
The escort Indis had sent to watch them consisted of a full
company. None headed north, for the flow of the river would only take a
body south. Therefore, the entire company, minus two pickets, headed
south. Durahil suggested that Borondir himself return to the Citadel
with the news. Much as he loathed the thought, and more so leaving the
area without Faramir, Borondir agreed. There were enough stalwart and
loyal men here who would search long and hard. He needed to tell Indis
himself, much as he dreaded it.
