Boromir's Return -II- Book Four of the Tales of the Fourth Age Series

Chapter Ten: Annúminas

Fo.A 2, July 20th

The morning dawned grey and bleak as Údar, Boromir, Frodo, and Sam prepared to leave. They had packed light, for it was but a few days hard ride to Annúminas, and if all should go as planned, they'd return before the end of the week.

Frodo was in a sullen mood having been told of Merry's death the prior night; Sam, too, was still grieving.

Boromir glanced up at the intimidating clouds above them threatening a wet and soggy journey. It seemed an unnatural thing, the will of some dark force.

"Come," said Údar, "we must make haste!"

Boromir watched as Údar took off at a gallop, followed by Frodo and Sam, with himself bringing up the rear. His mind was fixed on the mission ahead of them, and the threat they faced; those lives they hoped to save.

'Help me save Arabella," Frodo had said. "And you shall have earned my forgiveness."

The words from the previous night repeated again and again in Boromir's mind. He steeled his will, jaw clenched. Gondor would see it done, and this time, he would not fail.

And the rain poured.

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Fo.A 2, July 23rd

Their camp sat at the top of a hill overlooking the ruins of Annúminas as the day crept towards night. The presence of evil in that place could be felt before they had even caught sight of it.

"You must remain aware and on guard," Údar was saying to the hobbits. "The darkness has grown since I was here last, and I do not know what we will meet when we enter the city."

Boromir knew his friend well and could detect the slight tremble in Údar's voice. If he was afraid, it did not bode well for what was to come.

Údar declared he would take first watch, and the others lay down to try and rest. Better to search in the day when the darkness was least potent.

Boromir awoke with a start and shot up, looking around. He'd been having a horrible nightmare where black tendrils had coiled around the others and had drug them off in into the black of night.

He swore when he saw the fire had died, and he fumbled around in the dark trying to light it again. Finally, he found the tools and the flame took, growing brighter as he fed it. In the new light, Boromir saw empty spaces where the hobbits had been sleeping and a bare rock where Údar had been perched.

Boromir stood, hands trembling. There were gone.

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Frodo ran through the trees and past the rocky cliffs, getting ever nearer to the city, which gave of a sickly glow that offered some light for him to see, though only slightly.

He'd heard Arabella's voice cry out during the night and had quickly taken off to find her. He must find her!

Frodo crested a low mound and saw a small domed building in front of him at the bottom, and he made his way down it as best he could in the dim light, falling several times along the way. When he reached the base, a voice cried out. "Frodo, help me!"

"Arabella!" Frodo cried, running towards the building.

"Help me!" she cried again.

Frodo slammed into the rotted door, sending splinters flying. He tumbled and rolled to his feet to see Arabella standing on the far side of the room, knife to her throat. Tears streamed down her face, and she was covered in cuts. Her blue dress soiled.