October 25, 3018, Rivendell
I have at last reached Rivendell. I write now in the grey morning light of all that transpired last night.
Since I saw the vision of Elves passing in the woods on the night of October 14th, my steps grew ever surer as the path of the river and the mountains converged. At dusk last night, I decided to go forward as long as I could, as if I was nearing the end of my journey, though I did not know how near I was. The night was clear, and as long as I stayed close to the banks of the river, I could make my way without much trouble. As the night deepened about me, I began to smell a faint rotten odor that grew stronger as I walked. It was the unmistakable smell of death, and after a time, I drew near to the source. It came from the river, which was rocky and swift at this point. Removing my boots and cloak, and covering my mouth and nose with a kerchief, I waded out into the shallows and found there five black horses dashed upon the rocks, probably dead for four or five days. When I saw that their hideous livery bore the markings of Minas Morgul, I knew I had found the beasts of the Nazgul. A shocking thought came to me as I realized that we were on the same mission, to seek Isildur's bane, and here our paths had nearly converged. For a moment, I panicked, but if these were indeed the steeds of the Nazgul, then where were their riders? I felt none of that terrible presence that had driven us from Osgiliath.
It was then that I saw a dark shape in the branches of the trees at the water's edge. It fluttered and flapped in the wind, the tattered and empty robe of one of the wraiths, its dreadful wearer long since fled. Something had stopped these Nazgul, and that was no small feat. My hope was stoked, for this could only be the power of the Elves.
All weariness left me, and I waded out of the river and continued on. After a time I came to a shallow ford. I could not see to the far bank, but on this side, there were many footprints in the dried mud, a welcome sign. It had been 10 days since I had seen the Elves, and many more since I had seen a man, and among these were definitely the prints of a booted man, a tall one with long strides. There were other prints about, almost as large as the man, but unshod. A horse there was too, who turned and faced the river, but I could discern little else as the prints became confused. I knelt on the ground, and felt the edge of faint imprints. They were as large as the man's prints, but not bare, and too shallow for a man. "Elves," I thought to myself, and no sooner did this thought enter my mind, than Elves came out of the darkness and spoke to me.
"Greetings, Boromir of Gondor," they said. "We have been expecting you. Come, and follow us." Then they led me along a path that began to descend and wind about, until eventually it opened up into a fair vale, Rivendell at last.
Now in the silver light of an early morn, they led me across an arched bridge that spanned a rushing stream, a branch of the Bruinen. Upstream beyond the bridge a great waterfall misted and roared. There on the opposite side of the valley, built up into the hillside was a many-balustraded lodge, the long-sought home of Elrond Halfelven. They led me through the gate and down a flagstone path. We passed through courtyards and hallways, and many Elves there were seated on porches and standing on balconies. Some were singing in soft voices, others were laughing, and their laughter rang out like bells. At last they brought me to a room, lined with books and scrolls, with curving seats placed under every window. A lone figure stood there, looking out the eastward window. He turned to me, and I knew at once that this was Elrond. He was tall, and fair, like all the Elves, but his countenance was grave. His hair was long and braided, his robes rich, and though his face was unlined and his limbs lithe, age and wisdom weighed heavy upon his shoulders. He spoke to me thusly:
"Many questions you must have, Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor. All your questions will be answered at council this morning, for unbidden by me, you and many others have been drawn to this place.
At once I thought of the words from the dream:
"There will be counsels taken
Stronger than Morgul-spells."
I can only hope for such strength. Elrond bade me rest and eat before council. One of the elves of his household led me to a comfortably arrayed chamber, and elf maids brought me food and drink. The maids of Elrond were as beautiful and graceful as our ancient lore had described them, and I was in awe. They gave me a small cordial filled with a clear liquor, and when I drank of it, I felt a warmth course through my limbs, and I felt as refreshed as if I had slept all night long. As I ate the Elvish food, my strength returned, as if I was throwing off a sickness, yet I had not known I was ill.
Boromir
Since I saw the vision of Elves passing in the woods on the night of October 14th, my steps grew ever surer as the path of the river and the mountains converged. At dusk last night, I decided to go forward as long as I could, as if I was nearing the end of my journey, though I did not know how near I was. The night was clear, and as long as I stayed close to the banks of the river, I could make my way without much trouble. As the night deepened about me, I began to smell a faint rotten odor that grew stronger as I walked. It was the unmistakable smell of death, and after a time, I drew near to the source. It came from the river, which was rocky and swift at this point. Removing my boots and cloak, and covering my mouth and nose with a kerchief, I waded out into the shallows and found there five black horses dashed upon the rocks, probably dead for four or five days. When I saw that their hideous livery bore the markings of Minas Morgul, I knew I had found the beasts of the Nazgul. A shocking thought came to me as I realized that we were on the same mission, to seek Isildur's bane, and here our paths had nearly converged. For a moment, I panicked, but if these were indeed the steeds of the Nazgul, then where were their riders? I felt none of that terrible presence that had driven us from Osgiliath.
It was then that I saw a dark shape in the branches of the trees at the water's edge. It fluttered and flapped in the wind, the tattered and empty robe of one of the wraiths, its dreadful wearer long since fled. Something had stopped these Nazgul, and that was no small feat. My hope was stoked, for this could only be the power of the Elves.
All weariness left me, and I waded out of the river and continued on. After a time I came to a shallow ford. I could not see to the far bank, but on this side, there were many footprints in the dried mud, a welcome sign. It had been 10 days since I had seen the Elves, and many more since I had seen a man, and among these were definitely the prints of a booted man, a tall one with long strides. There were other prints about, almost as large as the man, but unshod. A horse there was too, who turned and faced the river, but I could discern little else as the prints became confused. I knelt on the ground, and felt the edge of faint imprints. They were as large as the man's prints, but not bare, and too shallow for a man. "Elves," I thought to myself, and no sooner did this thought enter my mind, than Elves came out of the darkness and spoke to me.
"Greetings, Boromir of Gondor," they said. "We have been expecting you. Come, and follow us." Then they led me along a path that began to descend and wind about, until eventually it opened up into a fair vale, Rivendell at last.
Now in the silver light of an early morn, they led me across an arched bridge that spanned a rushing stream, a branch of the Bruinen. Upstream beyond the bridge a great waterfall misted and roared. There on the opposite side of the valley, built up into the hillside was a many-balustraded lodge, the long-sought home of Elrond Halfelven. They led me through the gate and down a flagstone path. We passed through courtyards and hallways, and many Elves there were seated on porches and standing on balconies. Some were singing in soft voices, others were laughing, and their laughter rang out like bells. At last they brought me to a room, lined with books and scrolls, with curving seats placed under every window. A lone figure stood there, looking out the eastward window. He turned to me, and I knew at once that this was Elrond. He was tall, and fair, like all the Elves, but his countenance was grave. His hair was long and braided, his robes rich, and though his face was unlined and his limbs lithe, age and wisdom weighed heavy upon his shoulders. He spoke to me thusly:
"Many questions you must have, Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor. All your questions will be answered at council this morning, for unbidden by me, you and many others have been drawn to this place.
At once I thought of the words from the dream:
"There will be counsels taken
Stronger than Morgul-spells."
I can only hope for such strength. Elrond bade me rest and eat before council. One of the elves of his household led me to a comfortably arrayed chamber, and elf maids brought me food and drink. The maids of Elrond were as beautiful and graceful as our ancient lore had described them, and I was in awe. They gave me a small cordial filled with a clear liquor, and when I drank of it, I felt a warmth course through my limbs, and I felt as refreshed as if I had slept all night long. As I ate the Elvish food, my strength returned, as if I was throwing off a sickness, yet I had not known I was ill.
Boromir
posted by Mary Joan | 8:16 AM
|
1 comments
