"There have been times, lately, when I
dearly wished that I could change the past.
Well, I can't, but I can change the present,
so that when it becomes the past
it will turn out to be a past worth having."

― Terry Pratchett, I Shall Wear Midnight

18. Horn of Gondor

In the morning, Legolas helped Kat tell the others about her discovery.

"We saw him too," said Frodo. "Sam and I. We think it's Gollum. He's been riding a log, following us on the river."

"Gollum?" For some reason Legolas blushed.

"He has padded after us ever since Moria," said Aragorn unexpectedly. "I have tried catching him once or twice at night, but he is more sly than a fox, and as slippery as a fish. And you are sure it is him you must save, Kat?"

Positive. But if you knew who followed us into Lothlórien, why didn't you say so when we talked about it earlier?

"I was not sure until we came here, and I saw him more clearly."

Who is this Gollum anyway?

"He's the one my uncle Bilbo got the Ring from before he gave it to me," said Frodo. "His real name is Sméagol. Gandalf said he used to be a hobbit."

"His friend found the One Ring here in the Anduin river, and Sméagol fought him for it, killing him in the process," added Aragorn. "Before that, the Ring had been lost to the world for thousands of years."

That could be what I saw in the Mirror! Two hobbits fighting by the river. Galadriel said it shows things both from the past, the present and the future.

"It's beyond me why Námo would want you to save a murderer! And one who covets the Ring, at that!" Boromir exclaimed.

I think I know why. I never saw his face until now, or I would have known earlier; it was he who was that fisherman, and the one spying on the cult people. He climbed the window where the children were threatened, and I think he will save their lives.

"The king's children," Aragorn mused.

Aragorn's children or grandchildren, perhaps, Kat thought. They were really pretty, just how I figure his kids would look. Like little cherubs. But don't translate that, Legolas, or he will think I have a crush on him.

A crush?

That I fancy him. Like him.

Ah. He smirked knowingly. He knew very well who it was Kat liked. Darn elf!

Kat retaliated by asking why he had blushed before.

My people were supposed to guard Sméagol, but he tricked us and escaped. Saving him is going to be much harder now that he is loose. He sighed.

This conclusion was also made by Aragorn: "Like I said, that cunning little weasel won't let me catch him. I wonder how Kat is supposed to save someone who's not here?"

In the end they decided that since Gollum seemed intent on following them on his own volition, the best course was to continue, hoping that an opportunity to capture him would present itself eventually.

/\_ ,._ ,.
( *ᆽ* )

A couple of nights later the Fellowship arrived at a rough and rapid part of the river, and with difficulty they turned the boats to get away from the strong current. Their vessels were pulled closer and closer to the eastern shore; a rocky and uninviting area called Emyn Muil.

"Paddle! Or we shall be driven on the shoals." Boromir had to shout to carry over the sound of the restless water.

In reply to his voice, suddenly a score of arrows zinged out of the darkness. One pierced Aragorn's hood, and another bounced off Frodo's hidden mail shirt. A third embedded itself in Boromir's boat.

There are orcs running on the shore, thought Kat, who had the best night vision. Then she quickly crouched to avoid losing her remaining ear as well.

"Yrch!" Legolas exclaimed in his own language.

"Orcs!" Gimli translated.

The oarsmen doubled their effort with the paddles, straining to get the canoes further away from the new threat. Kat's heart throbbed fast, and as usual during a dangerous situation she felt utterly helpless.

Gradually they left the eastern shore behind, and the orcs' arrows fell harmlessly in the water. Their shrill shrieks echoed between the cliffs, but there was no pursuit; maybe they could not swim.

When they had almost reached the opposite shore, Legolas gracefully leaped up on the riverbank. Peering back at the enemy through the darkness, he stringed his new, great bow; Galadriel's gift, and readied an arrow. It looked like he was too far away to shoot any of the orcs, but perhaps with such a bow it was possible?

A deep terror suddenly seeped into Kat.  Something dark, and ominous, and absolutely horrifying was approaching. Her hair rose all over her body, and she could not hold back a drawn-out hiss.

Above her on the riverbank, Legolas shuddered and looked around; he had felt it too. Then he turned his face up, tensed, and raised his bow. "Elbereth Gilthoniel," he mumbled, a silent plea to the Vala of the stars.

Kat pressed herself against the deck of the small boat when she saw what he had seen. A huge beast came flying from the south, its wings wide and batlike, its neck straight and long and its color so black it appeared to almost suck away all light from its surroundings. Everything became dark as it gradually blocked the starlit sky.

Behind her Gimli muttered something in Dwarvish, possibly a curse, and in the next boat Frodo clutched his shoulder as if he had been stabbed, whimpering in pain – but across the river, the orcs cheered and shouted, greeting the monster like a friend.

Legolas stood straight and undaunted, an arrow nocked, waiting for the opportune moment. Kat peered up at him, taking comfort in the sight of his warrior persona; using her love for him to dispel the dread procured by the fiend. She trusted him; he could do this.

Then his great bow sang and the arrow sailed upwards, straight and swift, aimed true on its target. Kat held her breath.

The black monster swerved, emitting a croaking howl, and tumbled down somewhere over the far shore in a disorder of fluttering wings and trembling limbs. A choir of curses and disappointed wails rose from the orcs.

It was gone.

/\_,,_.,
( o _ o )

The Fellowship moored their boats in a small, shallow bay some way upstream, and remained aboard to wait out the remainder of the night. They lit no fire, but shared some lembas while huddling close together for warmth.

Gimli and Legolas leaned against each other's backs, and Kat eased herself into the elf's lap. He pulled his cloak around them both.

That was amazing, she thought. A single arrow! And a monster that big, too.

It is a very good bow, thought Legolas modestly.

And you're a more than good archer. Her heart swelled with admiration.

"Praised be the bow of Galadriel, and the hand and eye of Legolas," said Gimli, his mouth full of lembas. "That was a mighty shot in the dark!"

They discussed what the black shape could have been, and Gimli compared it to the balrog in Moria.

Frodo objected; he was sure it was no balrog. "It was colder. I think it was–" He broke off.

"Was what?" Boromir eagerly leaned towards him.

"I think– No. I won't say. But at least its fall intimidated our enemies."

The night passed slowly. Sam and Frodo discussed the moon, trying to figure out what date it was. According to its phase – still in waning – they could only have been in Lothlórien a few days. It had felt longer, however, though not as long as an entire month. Did time move slower in there?

"Nay, time does never tarry," said Legolas, but added that it could be perceived differently in different places. For elves, it felt both fast and slow. Fast, because they themselves hardly changed though everything around them did – which saddened them – and slow, because they did not count the years. The seasons were only ripples, repeating themselves endlessly, until the end of time.

Frodo pondered that maybe they had felt the time swiftly like elves – and that it could be the doing of Galadriel's Elvenring.

Aragorn chided him; not even to him should Frodo speak about that ring. But he was correct in his surmise, they had been over a month in Lothlórien.

What ring does Galadriel have, and why can't we speak about it? Kat asked Legolas. I thought Frodo carried the only one.

Remember how I told you there were once many Rings of Power? The elves of Eregion forged them; nine to the humans, seven to the dwarves and three to the elves. And then Sauron forged the One Ring to find the others, bind them and make them return to him. The humans were weak, and their rings soon turned them into his servants – Nazgûl we call them, or ringwraiths. The dwarves' rings were all destroyed or taken. But the three Elvenrings still remain untainted by Sauron's darkness, for he never touched them – and hence we cannot speak about them, in case he would find out who wields them. Galadriel has Nenya, the Ring of Water, Elrond has Vilya, the Ring of Air, and Gandalf had the third one: Narya, the Ring of Fire.

Wow. This is complicated. And interesting! So that's why Gandalf could create fire up at Caradhras and make his staff shine in Moria? And command the balrog?

Aye. He sighed, and sadness emanated from him.

Sorry for bringing that up. She soothingly rubbed her chin against his.

/\_,,_.,
( u _ u )

Despite the excitement with the orc ambush and the winged beast before, Kat found she soon became sleepy in the comfort of Legolas' arms. When she opened her eyes next, it was already morning, and a dense, white fog covered everything. The air was damp and chilly, and she shivered.

Bleak, she muttered.

In the adjoining boats, Aragorn and Boromir talked in subdued voices, as usual arguing which way to go next. Boromir wanted to continue to Minas Tirith on foot from here, while Aragorn wanted them to carry their boats past the rapids and then continue paddling as long as possible. Near the Falls of Rauros were an ancient stairway leading down to the wetlands, and there they could again take to the boats.

At last Boromir gave in. "It is not the way of the men of Minas Tirith to desert their friends at need," he said. They would need his strength to get the boats to Rauros. But when they arrived there, he would turn to his home, and walk alone if nobody wanted to go with him.

The route they would walk with the boats needed scouting, and Aragorn assigned himself and Legolas for the task. Boromir sullenly warned them that there were probably orcs here too, and they should beware. He seemed still grumpy after being downvoted again.

Aragorn said no road south was safe, and instructed them to wait for him and Legolas one day. If they had not returned by then, the others must choose a new leader and follow him.

That sounds ominous! Is it really that dangerous? Kat peered anxiously at Legolas.

We will be fine. No need to worry. He stroked her head softly. See you soon.

Be careful. Please don't die.

I will try not to. He grinned.

Kat looked long after the couple when they left through the underbrush, full of apprehension. What if they did not return? It was stupid to divide the group, everyone knew that. In all the horror movies someone walks away alone, and the monster kills them, and then someone else goes to see where they went, and the monster kills them too, and so on. Not that Kat had seen many such; supernatural plots were not really her thing.

And she had not even said goodbye properly. She ought to have told Legolas how much she cared about him. Now, if he died he would never know...

True, if he was dead, that information would not be very useful – but on the other hand, he would probably go to that lovely Mandos place, and while he wandered around there singing (for unlike Kat, Legolas could sing), he would fondly remember the crazy cat-lady who had loved him when he was alive. It would give him something to laugh with the other souls about. She did not mind if he used her as a joke.

Well, perhaps a little.

When Legolas and Aragorn returned a couple of hours later, Kat had so convincingly persuaded herself they would die, it was almost anticlimactic to see them again.

You're alive! She jumped up onto Legolas shoulder, rubbing herself against his face like he had been gone for weeks.

"Calm down, Adanig nín," he murmured, smiling.

As always, a bubbly warmth filled Kat when Legolas called her 'my little human', despite how possessive it sounded. After he saw her in the Mirror he had not spoken so familiarly to her, but he must have temporarily forgotten that now.

Aragorn informed them that the road looked safe, and they would now empty the boats of their luggage and carry everything with them.

Boromir muttered that it sounded difficult even if they all had been men.

"Yet we will try it," said Aragorn. That man was the very definition of the word stubborn!

"Aye, we will, Master Boromir!" Gimli chuckled good-naturedly. "A rough road will make men's legs tired, while a dwarf can easily continue, even if he carries a burden twice his own weight."

Boromir gave him a dark look, but did not reply; he was clearly not in the mood for friendly banter. Was it just because he had been overruled, or did the Ring still affect him? She decided to keep a close eye on him from now on, just in case.

The company had to walk the distance twice before they had moved the three boats and all the packs from above the rough part of the river to where it calmed down again, and the heavy toil took them all afternoon. The mist thankfully remained, hiding them from watchful orc eyes, but it also chilled them and made the labour bleeker and harder than it might have been.

When the boats were moored and the packs put back into them, everyone except Kat was exhausted, and sat down listlessly at the shore to catch their breaths.

Boromir remarked that they could not go further; it was late, and they were too tired – except, perhaps, for the 'sturdy dwarf'. The latter he said rather nastily, indicating Gimli who had dozed off where he sat.

That night Aragorn assigned two guards per hour just in case, which meant they would only get to sleep three hours consecutive between watches. Thus, in the morning everyone looked rather bleary-eyed and sour when they took their places in the canoes again.

Their moods did not improve when a heavy rain started to pour down on them.

Kat hid under Legolas' cloak. This is horrible.

It is not so bad. When it stops, everything will smell lovely.

Stop being so positive and let me mope in peace.

Stop spreading your negativity to me then, and mope in silence. A faint irritation radiated from Legolas, which was very unusual for him. Kat wisely decided not to push it and refrained from a tart reply.

Thankfully the rain was over fairly soon, and in addition their surroundings became interesting. Sheer cliff walls rose high on either side of them, blocking much of the sky, giving the Fellowship the impression they travelled through a tunnel. In the distance, huge pillars extended on either side of the river.

"Behold the Argonath, the Pillars of the Kings!" said Aragorn dramatically.

When they came closer, Kat saw that two statues stood on them, taller than they should have been humanly possible to build – perhaps sixty meters or more. She imagined they beat even the Colossus of Rhodes, and felt sure these also were among the wonders of their world.

Time had worn the statues down, but she could still see they were shaped into two crowned men, gazing proudly north as if daring the enemy to come against them. In one huge stone hand they held an axe, and the other was raised palm out in the universal stop signal.

Gandalf's last words came unbidden to her mind: You cannot pass.

Everyone except for Aragorn seemed intimidated by the impressive sight. He, on the other hand, sat straighter, again with that kingly air. "Long have I desired to look upon the likenesses of Isildur and Anárion, my sires of old. Under their shadow, Elessar, the Elfstone, son of Arathorn, heir of Elendil, has naught to dread!" Then the pride suddenly left his gaze, and he slumped where he sat. "I only wish Gandalf could have been here too."

The water ran fast now; they were getting closer to the Falls, but first the river widened into a lake with an island in its center. Everything here was beautiful, but in a wild, untamed way, like the rivers in Norrland of Sweden.

They decided to spend the night on the western side of the lake, feeling relatively safe from enemies that far from the eastern shore. There was a grassy lawn where they could pull up their boats and moor them, and the soft ground was comfortable under their bedrolls.

The night passed uneventfully, but in the morning Frodo's sword began to shine a pale blue, indicating orcs were approaching. It was only faint, and Aragorn seemed not too worried, saying they were probably still on the other side of the river – but nevertheless, the time had come; Frodo must make his decision. Going west to Minas Tirith and aid Gondor in the war, or east to Mordor with the Ring?

Frodo looked wretched. "The burden is heavy. Give me an hour more to think... Alone."

Aragorn looked at him with compassion. "Very well, one hour then. But don't go too far."

When Frodo walked away, the others resumed their conversation, but Boromir's gaze was locked at the hobbit until he was gone. Then he restlessly thrummed his fingers against his knee, and seemed full of pent-up energy, reminding Kat of a kid with a hyperactivity disorder. She had seen a fair share of those in her classroom over the years.

The others seemed not to notice. They were discussing what choice they thought Frodo should make. Legolas and Gimli rooted for the Minas Tirith option – though, if Frodo wanted to go east they would not abandon him. Aragorn thought they should rather split up – it was too conspicuous to walk so many into Mordor. Perhaps Frodo, Sam and himself could go – that would be enough.

Boromir suddenly slunk away, along the same path where Frodo had left. What was the man up to now? Kat padded after him on silent feet, not wanting to make her presence known before she knew. She hoped he was just going to pee or something, but had a horrible suspicion that was not it.

Just as she had feared, Boromir went straight to Frodo, who sat on a stone some way off, seemingly deep in thought.

"There you are! I worried about you." Boromir was smiling, but it looked plastered on and fake. He asked if he could join Frodo, and perhaps they could decide together.

The hobbit looked up in surprise. When he spoke, Kat tried her best to follow without Legolas' helpful translations in her head, and understood most of their conversation.

"You are kind, but you can't help me," Frodo said. "I know what I should do, but am afraid of doing it. Afraid, Boromir."

"I could advise you."

"I suspect I already know what you would suggest – and my heart is warning me against it."

"Warning? Warning against what?" Boromir's smile had disappeared and there was an edge to his voice.

"Many things; delay, taking the easy path, refusing the burden I was chosen to carry – and, if you must know... against the strength and truth of men."

"That strength has long protected you, far away in your little country – though you did not know it," Boromir retorted angrily.

"I don't doubt the valor of your people." Frodo hurried to say. "Though... the walls of Minas Tirith are strong, but the enemy might be stronger, and what then? There is no hope for us as long as the Ring remains."

"Ah, the Ring!" Boromir brightened. "The Ring. It's strange that something so small should give us so much trouble and suffering. I only saw it briefly in Elrond's house, but maybe I could see it again?"

Frodo's eyes darted to his face. "It had better stay hidden," he said, his voice full of suspicion.

"As you wish. I don't care," said Boromir with feigned indifference. He added something about Gandalf and Elrond, and how they had taught Frodo to think that way – but wizards and half-elven were one thing, and men another. Men were not so easily corrupted. They did not desire power and magic – all they wanted was to defend themselves! The Ring was a gift; a gift to Mordor's enemies, and they ought to use it. Aragorn could do great deeds with it! And if he refused, why not Boromir himself? All men would come under his banner, and together they would drive away the hosts of Mordor!

He was pacing to and fro now, clenching and unclenching his hands. Could Frodo not see how stupid it was to destroy such a precious gift? And he was only a small hobbit, who would walk blindly into the enemy's arms with it. Maybe that was why he felt afraid? His good sense was warning him against such a fool's errand!

"No. But I'm glad you have told me how you think. My mind is clearer now."

"It is?" Boromir brightened. "Then you come with me?"

"You misunderstand me."

"Come a little while, at least. You are tired, and could use the rest." He put his hand on Frodo's shoulder, but the hobbit flinched and evaded his grip, nervously peering up at the man.

"Why are you so unfriendly?" Boromir looked hurt. "I am no thief. I only wanted to borrow the Ring, not keep it!"

"No, no!" Frodo backed a few steps, shaking his head. "The Council assigned me this burden."

"Fool!" Boromir burst out. "The enemy will defeat us! Gah, it's only an unhappy chance you have it! It might have been mine. It should be mine! Give it to me."

Frodo turned and hurried away with Boromir looming over him. Kat followed, at loss what to do; she could not just leave them like this.

"Come my friend," Boromir pleaded. "Why not get rid of it? You can lay the blame on me, if you want. I am larger and stronger – you could say I took it by force!"

When Frodo only walked faster in reply, Boromir's face suddenly changed, becoming distorted with an uncontrolled rage. "I am too strong for you!" He rushed at Frodo.

The hobbit swiftly slunk behind a large stone, pulling up the chain around his neck. The Ring gleamed in the morning light when he put it on his trembling finger.

Boromir roared furiously, calling Frodo all sorts of names. The hobbit meanwhile scurried away, past the warrior and up the hill. For some reason it seemed Boromir could not see Frodo, even when he passed right beside him. Instead he threw his hands out, blindly grasping the air, running this way and that like blindfolded.

Frodo disappeared around the old ruins of a stone building, but Boromir went in the opposite direction. Stumbling over a stone, he fell face first on the ground.

He lay still a long while, and then his wide shoulders began to shake.

Kat lingered hesitantly nearby. What should she do? Stay here, or go after Frodo? Or fetch the others?

"What have I said? What have I done?" Boromir moaned. And then louder: "Frodo! Frodo come back! Madness took me, but it has passed. Come back!"

Kat decided then she had waited long enough. She went close enough for Boromir to see her, and met his gaze calmly. She was not afraid; he really did seem to be himself again, and the feelings emanating from him were pure guilt.

"Kat... Oh. Are you here?" He quickly dried his face on his sleeve. "Did you... Did you just come?"

Still locking her gaze in his, Kat slowly shook her head.

Boromir's cheeks flushed red. "You saw everything."

Kat nodded.

He hung his head then, sinking back on the ground. "I lost my mind. I would never hurt Frodo. You know that, right?" His voice was pleading, but Kat had a feeling he tried to convince himself as much as her.

She beckoned her head in the direction of the boats, trying to make him come with her. He had to tell the others what happened. Someone else ought to go after Frodo, someone he trusted.

"You are right." He sighed heavily. "I must tell Aragorn."

They walked in silence back to the others, who had just noticed they were gone.

"Where have you been?" Aragorn looked suspiciously at Boromir.

Boromir glanced at Kat, who tried to convey with her eyes that unless he did it himself, she would tell them via Legolas.

Sighing again, Boromir gave them an edited version, where he did not come out quite as bad. "I tried to persuade Frodo to come with me to Minas Tirith, and then I... I got this idea, so I suggested we could use the Ring against Sauron. Of course it must be destroyed, I know that – but instead I asked Frodo to give it to me. Begged him, even. I had lost my mind temporarily, that was why... And it frightened him, so he put on the Ring and ran away." Boromir conveniently forgot to mention he had tried to take it by force. "The Ring turned him invisible so I could not find him. And now... Now I don't know where he is."

So Frodo had been invisible, and yet, Kat had seen him. Strange!

"We have to go to him at once!" Sam jumped up and hurried away, while Merry and Pippin ran off in another direction.

"Wait a moment!" yelled Aragorn after them. "We must divide into pairs, and–"

But they did not listen; they were already shouting 'Frodo!' on the top of their voices.

Before Aragorn could do anything, Legolas and Gimli had run off in a third direction, and he helplessly looked at Boromir. "You go after the younger hobbits and guard them, that's the least you can do after causing this disaster. Meanwhile I shall try finding Frodo."

Boromir humbly bowed his head. "Aye, My Lord. I am sorry." And then he was gone too.

Aragorn looked at Kat. "Follow him. If he seems to lose his mind again, you must fetch me directly."

Kat nodded, and hurried away after the tall warrior, not a little worried. Aragorn did not know the full extent of what Boromir had done, otherwise he might not have sent him after the hobbits. Could he really be trusted?

The forest was dense this close to the riverbank. The small hobbits passed through it easily, while Boromir had to break his way forward with some difficulty. They were still far ahead when Kat caught up with him.

He smiled down at her. "Glad you came with me. You shall be my witness, and later you can tell Aragorn that I am back to myself." He dodged a low-hanging branch. "The silly hobbits should not shout so loudly, though; they will attract the enemy. But do not worry," he added, smiling at her again. "Orcs are bad swimmers. We are safe on this shore."

An arrow with black feathers embedded itself in a tree trunk to his left.

"Damn!" He backed behind another tree, and peered out. "Orcs! Orcs everywhere," he muttered. "And it's daylight! How did they get here?" He drew a sharp breath. "Oh no, they caught Pippin, and another hobbit. Merry or Frodo. I can only see his head. Maybe they have all of them. Damn. There are too many foes for one man, but if I fetch help it will be too late... And it will all be my fault!" He was shaking now. "I have to defend the hobbits, it's the least I can do after... what happened." He squatted before Kat. "If I don't survive this – and it's unlikely I do – can you tell Aragorn I have paid for what I did?"

Kat nodded, suddenly terrified at the expression in his eyes. It was the look of one who knows he is going to die.

Boromir took his horn. "I must warn the others."

The horn blows echoed over the water, strong, clear tones. The orcs replied with their usual shrill shrieks, and Boromir drew his sword.

"For Gondor!" He charged out of the trees and soon his sword began its bloody work.

Kat sneaked as close as she dared. The forest was more open here, and full of the dirty, stinking creatures she had seen in Moria, but they seemed bigger and fiercer somehow. When they saw Boromir they split up; some stayed to fight while the rest of them ran away with their prey.

Kat caught sight of a curly head hanging over the shoulder of one. Blood dripped from it. Was he dead?

The orcs who stayed behind were maybe twenty or more, four of them particularly tall, armed with great swords and bows. Boromir cut down three of the smaller ones in his first charge, his sword slicing off heads and piercing chests like in a well-practiced movie stunt. Only it was no movie; this was real. And in real life a single warrior could not beat twenty foes alone and suurvive.

Boromir clashed against one of the big ones with a metallic ring of sword against sword, and with his shield he held another off. But he did not see the two archers who were sidling behind him, making ready to shoot.

No! They must not do it!

Kat jumped up on one, scratching his eyes and hissing and growling, her raised fur making her appear twice as large.

"Arrgh! Get off me!"

His smell this close was horrible. She felt sick with fear and disgust, but when the shocked creature tried to brush her away from his face she held on tight, embedding her many claws deeply into his skin.

In the corner of her eye, Kat saw a golden mane of hair as someone joined her, fiercely banging on the other archer's head with a long stick.

Legolas? No. It did not look quite like him...

Just then, the archer Kat was riding grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, tossing her far away. It would have hurt, had she been anything but a cat, but now she gracefully turned mid-air and landed on her feet.

Hurrying back, she discovered the tall orc was already down, bleeding profusely from his head and nose. She could see the scratches she had caused, but the head injury was much deeper. The golden one must have beaten him too.

The mysterious helper was further ahead, their hair flowing wildly as they attacked a third enemy. They picked up an orc scimitar from one of the corpses and used it skilfully; a proficient warrior then. But who? Their back was turned, so Kat could still not see.

Nearby, Boromir grimly slashed his way through a mass of enemies, still oblivious to the newcomer. Not many orcs remained standing now, and it actually looked like the two of them might manage this. Kat could hardly breathe, and adrenaline surged through her body.

The bleeding archer suddenly rose behind Boromir and drew his ugly bow again. Kat tried to yell at him to look out, but her meow drowned in the battle sounds. With a twang the archer released his black-feathered arrow.

"Baw!" Golden-hair jumped between Boromir and the orc, taking the black arrow in his stead. Not even flinching from the impact the warrior continued, separating the archer's head from his body in one swift stroke.

Only one orc remained now, one of the tall ones. He had lost his sword, but instead he used his huge fist to punch the golden warrior hard in the head. The warrior groaned, swaying back and forth a few times, before dropping down on their knees.

Boromir roared in fury and embedded his sword deep into the orcs' chest.

The tall monster only grinned, with blood trickling from his mouth. "Got... the... halflings.... Got... the....Ring," he wheezed. Then he fell to the ground and was dead.

A/N:

Sorry for another cliffhanger... :)

Translation: Baw = No!

Image Credits:

Screenshot from The Lord of the Rings movies.