Compos Mentis [Rávamë's Bane: Book 2]

Part I : Chapter 3 ~ Running Uphill

By the time the last of the setting sun's light had vanished over the horizon, we were running.

I say running — Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and to an extent even Boromir were all running.

What I was doing could probably be generously described as stumbling, or possibly loping. After four more loaves of lambas two more skins of water, half a hare, and two partridges all to myself a few hours before — though I couldn't quite work out where Aragorn had kept them all until now — I'd managed to scrape up enough energy to manage a slow but steady jog.

My legs worked, but were still terribly weak and unsteady compared to their usual strength and speed. I paced behind Aragorn and Legolas, who were taking turns leading the way, and I was so focused on keeping sight of them in the dark that I'd lost count of the times I tripped or snagged my foot on a stray stone. There were already some lovely scrapes on my knees and hands from where I hadn't managed to catch myself in time. It was almost pitch black, the crescent moon and stars overhead providing the only light source, and even with my snazzy elf eyesight, I was struggling to see where my feet were going.

Behind me, Gimli and Boromir brought up the rear of our convoy. I could hear their heavy footfalls on the ground, as well as the occasional grunts and Khuzdul curses whenever Gimli tripped or stumbled over obstructions the rest of us were tall enough to avoid.

Boromir, on the other hand, barely made a sound at all, save for the laboured breaths plaguing us all from running for seemingly endless miles cross country in the dark.

He still hadn't spoken to me once since I'd woken, but from the look I'd caught of him while we all ate and got ready to leave, I'd got the impression that he wasn't nearly as weak as me anymore — though he was still nowhere near peak strength. I knew he was more than capable of overtaking me as we ran through the night, but he never did, not once. He deliberately kept pace behind me in the gloom the whole time, his footfalls never getting closer than a few feet behind me. Whenever I sped up a little, he stayed back just far enough to keep me in sight. When I began to tire and started to slow down, so did he, remaining at a constant distance in my wake, like a watchful shadow.

I could feel his eyes on the back of my neck the entire time, and if I hadn't been so focused on just keeping my legs moving, it might have given me the chills.

Lost in thought, I almost ran straight into the back of Legolas as Aragorn ahead of him suddenly came to a stop. I toppled sideways, but Legolas caught my hand in the dark and tugged me upright again with barely any effort.

"Thanks," I puffed out between deep breaths. I couldn't really see his face — it was far too gloomy even with the moon and stars — but I felt his small smile at me. His warm hand gave mine a gentle squeeze before reluctantly letting go, and I tried to ignore the urge I suddenly had to reach out and take it back again.

"Aragorn?" Legolas asked quietly to the man, who had stooped to kneel and genuinely press his ear to the ground.

"Why are we slowing?"

I very nearly jumped at the sound of Boromir's quiet voice coming from several steps behind me in the darkness. An overreaction to hearing one of my companions speak, perhaps, but it was the first time I'd heard him utter a word since I'd woken — and he most definitely did not sound like the man I remembered. His voice was the same, if a little croaky and breathless, but it had also gone flat, hardened, with an unsettlingly cold edge that made my skin crawl. I'd always remembered him as having a strong voice, and it still was despite his obvious exhaustion. Now, however, it sounded as if some crucial part that made it his was missing, hidden away behind a stony barrier that had gone up the second he'd seen me look at him hours before.