Many Paths to Tread Will Soon Be Five Years Old!
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Many Paths to Tread, the sister archive of this community, will be FIVE YEARS OLD on Sunday, July 27 ( Read more... )
Many Paths to Tread, the sister archive of this community, will be FIVE YEARS OLD on Sunday, July 27 ( Read more... )
Sam was completely distracted by his find. He gathered as many of the chestnuts as he could, filling his pockets and then his handkerchief with the unexpected bounty. Mr. Frodo and the others would be so happy to have them. Boromir stood nervously behind him; Strider'd asked the Man to guard him when he gave Sam permission to go back up their trail and collect his find. Suddenly, he heard the sound of an angry squeal, but before he could even turn, large hands snatched him up and plunked him upon a branch of the chestnut tree. Sam stared down in horror as Boromir drew his sword and prepared to face the charging boar.
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Sam watched, holding his breath in terror, as the boar charged straight at Boromir. With a sweep of his sword, Boromir deflected the charge and the boar ran past him. Quickly turning, the creature gathered itself for another attack. Boromir had but an instant to grasp the shield he wore upon his back, and set it before him to fend off attacks from the boar's fearsome tusks. Shield in hand and sword held high, Boromir did not wait for the boar's charge, but instead leaped forward to battle.
Sam cried out in fear, as Boromir's food suddenly turned on a chestnut, and he lost his balance. Down on one knee he went, and then the boar was upon him.
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"Aragorn, Gimli, with me!" he cried out. "Sam and Boromir are in danger!" He raced back up the trail without looking back. He didn't call out, hoping to take any attackers unaware. Sam's cries grew louder as he approached the chestnut glade, and when he burst through the trees he halted, frozen for a moment at the scene before him.
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Behind him he heard the others swiftly approaching. Time was of the essence.
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Aragorn ran forward towards the frenzied beast, yelling at the top of his voice.
Meanwhile, Boromir's shield had rolled some distance away. Gimli picked it up and prepared to hurl it at the precise moment at which Aragorn charged.
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Immediately, the boar left Boromir and rushed at Sam. “Sam!” the gardener heard a horrified voice shout; it was Frodo. “Boromir!”
Clutching his bleeding shoulder, Boromir gaped in horror. “Sam! Look out! Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, save him!”
It was too late for Sam to get out of the way; the boar was upon him. He scrunched his legs up against his stomach and covered his face with his arms, as he felt those sharp tusks boring through his shirt and grazing his skin.
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That was all the distraction needed. At the same instant, Legolas' arrow entered its eye, three stones bounced off its skull, and Anduril pierced its throat.
It fell over dead. Gandalf and the hobbits rushed over to check on their injured comrades, tears running unchecked down Frodo's face as he sobbed, "Sam, oh Sam!"
Aragorn pulled Anduril out of the slain animal, and went to bend over the injured ones.
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"Harrumph", Gandalf snorted, clearing his throat. He stood up and walked ahead, only a bit slower. Behind him, a sparrow chittered. It sounded like laughter.
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"Hurry, hobbits, get some cloths from our camping site! We need to bind these wounds carefully!" cried Aragorn.
Because both the man and hobbit seemed to be in poor condition, the Fellowship decided to tend to them right there and not bring them back to the nearby campsite. They moved the victims over to
a nearby spot away from the dead bear.
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Merry returned his nod, and turned back to the task at hand. He gave a savage hack at the wild pig's haunch. The boar had hurt his friends, and there was some satisfaction in hacking it up to make a pork dinner.
He looked over at Gimli, and the two met one another's eyes. He saw the same grim appreciation of this rough justice as he felt. The anticipation of seeing the boar roasting over a hot fire had very little to do with hunger. Despite his reassurances, he was worried for Sam, and for Boromir as well.
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"It'll do Sam's heart good to see that these chestnuts aren't wasted," he muttered, though in reality, he simply needed something to do to keep his mind off the blood on Boromir's shoulder and his pale face, and the ghastly cut on Sam's head.
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"I'm here, Sam." Frodo knelt beside his servant and took Sam's hand.
Sam swallowed twice. "Is--is Mr. Boromir all right?"
Frodo looked back toward Boromir, who was still being tended by Aragorn. It was Gandalf who answered. "He will be, Sam," the wizard said, as he pressed a folded piece of cloth against Sam's bleeding forehead. "He's in good hands." He looked at Frodo. "Frodo, if you'll hold this cloth in place, I'll have a look at Sam's arms." With a nod, Frodo pressed his fingertips down on the cloth, which was rapidly becoming soaked with blood.
At that moment, Aragorn, who had just finished treating Boromir's injuries, came over to Sam. Gandalf moved back a ways so that Aragorn could take his place. "Boromir is going to be fine, Sam," Aragorn said, as he opened his healer's kit. "Now, let's have a look at you."
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"Pippin," called Frodo, where he sat by Sam's side helping the small gardener to fill up the corners, "be certain that Boromir gets his share of the roasted chestnuts."
Aragorn gave a glimpse at the others, commenting quietly, "The color of each of them is much better, and I include that of Frodo Baggins in the evaluation. Although I predict that Sam will have quite a spectacular black eye by the time he awakens tomorrow."
"And I suspect that he'll have quite a sensitive knot where the boar's tusk glanced off his skull as well," the Wizard returned. He turned his attention to Boromir. "Now, our doughty warrior there will have another impressive scar to show to the maidens of his father's court, should fate lead him safely home again."
The Ranger merely grunted as he filled his pipe and pulled out his striker set. Gandalf sighed. If all went as he personally ( ... )
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