AVALANCHE

Chapter 14 --- Far From Home

"He's to be Steward of his people, Boromir. As you are."

Thinking over this strange concept kept Boromir's mind busy as he and Aragorn pushed slowly through the ice-encrusted drifts of snow, painstakingly rediscovering the path of the original trail as they did so. Legolas had run lightly ahead and was no longer in sight.

"Steward? That youngster?"

"Weren't we all youngsters once?" Aragorn asked, equally grateful for a distracting topic of conversation. "If that scamp makes it back home, he'll be the farthest-traveled, best-educated Thain in Shire history. As a matter of fact, you can probably teach him a lot. We have quite a long road ahead of us."

"Hmmm." Boromir thought about that. Although he was talking again, in two days Pippin had not once gone anywhere near the edge of the small area where they were camped. Boromir couldn't remember him even raising his head to look at it. Years ago he had seen one young life ruined after a similar situation, and he was not about to see it happen again. Perhaps there was something he could teach this youngster, but there would be precious little time to do so. He and Aragorn stopped for a rest, and he noticed the wisps of cloud beginning to appear in the clear sky.

"There may be another storm approaching," Boromir said. "Perhaps not until tomorrow, however."

"I agree." Aragorn sighed wearily, "but I hope we are well down the slopes by then." He and Boromir had not been walking through the deep snow as much as wading through it. Rediscovering the trail, however, was not the same as recreating it, and he feared that the hobbits would still need assistance. "It will be difficult to bring the hobbits through this. We will have to be particularly slow and careful with Frodo. He is improving, but his headache will be aggravated by any abrupt movements. The pony's gait might be..." He stopped, noticing that Boromir had pressed his lips together in a thin line, dark emotions slowly kindling in his eyes. "What is it?"

"I am to blame, Aragorn," Boromir burst out angrily. "The halflings should never have been hurt."

"Why do you say this?"

"Let us continue," said Boromir abruptly, motioning ahead of them. Aragorn nodded, and he took the lead this time, striding ahead and thrusting the deep snow away from him as he did so. Boromir followed closely behind him, widening the trail.

"I did not know what I could add to this Company," said Boromir after a brief silence. "The Ringbearer seemed well defended, and each of the Free Peoples was represented well. It was not until we started up this mountain that I felt I knew."

Aragorn said nothing, although he was listening closely.

"I grew up near the White Mountains, and spent a great deal of time there," Boromir continued. "I believed there to be little about snow and storms and survival I did not know. Once you have heard an avalanche, Aragorn, you never forget the sound, and when I heard that sound again..." He grew angry once more. "I should have pulled those halflings to safety without hesitation. How could they know what was to come? But I knew; I should not have hesitated more than a second."

"Boromir," said Aragorn softly, "a second was all we had. By the time we heard that sound it was already too late, and we did the best we could. Had you reached them, you would have been swept away as well." He stopped and turned around to face Boromir. "You blame yourself for something you could not prevent. I blame myself that we are on this mountain at all. Gandalf is uneasy that something may have sensed his use of Power...." He shook his head. "And believe me, when a wizard is uneasy, that is a grim thought indeed." To Boromir's amazement, he continued. "Legolas has expressed his unhappiness that he, who heard the rumbling first, did not more quickly warn the Company, although he had no more idea what that sound represented than did the hobbits. All are to blame, Boromir, and all are blameless." He smiled, remembering Gandalf's words to him. "With each step, each day, each decision, we can only do what we can."

"Perhaps." Boromir felt his self-anger draining away somewhat. "Perhaps."

"You are a valued and valiant member of this Company," Aragorn said firmly. "Do not doubt it."

It was becoming more difficult for Boromir to deny the respect he felt rising within him for the son of Arathorn. He started to respond, then saw movement ahead of them. "Legolas is returning."

*~*~*~*~*

Frodo lay quietly, his eyes closed, lulled by the comforting sound of Pippin's soft voice and the seemingly infinite genealogy. The drink Strider had given him had eased the pain quite a bit, but he still felt weak and dizzy.

"Frodo?"

"Hmmm?"

"What's under your shirt?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's not cloth, or..." During his recitation, Pippin had unconsciously wormed a finger between two of Frodo's shirt buttons and had discovered the mithril beneath. "Whatever is this?"

Frodo opened his eyes to Pippin's curious, eager ones. "That's, well, something Bilbo gave me, Pip. Nobody knows about it." He sighed. "Can you keep a secret?"

Pippin sat up, excited to be told something no one else knew. "Merry, Sam, and I kept a secret from you long enough, you know."

"That's right, you did." Frodo smiled at him. "Do you remember, in Bilbo's story, about the mithril coat the Dwarves gave him?"

Pippin looked at him, wide eyed. "Is that it?"

"Shhh. Yes. We're still part of Bilbo's story, I think."

Pippin abruptly looked down and pulled restlessly at a frayed spot in the blanket. "This is one of the scary parts. I don't like it."

"I know. This has been awfully scary for you, Pip, but we all have to be very strong."

"I'm not sure I know how to be this strong," Pippin said mournfully. "We've come such a long way. My parents don't know where I am."

"It's the same for Sam and Merry." Frodo thought about it. "And Boromir's father doesn't really know where he is, either, I guess."

"Boromir's on his way home."

"Yes, he is."

"I wish we could go home."

Frodo didn't say anything. After a minute, he reached up and pulled his cousin back down next to him. He stroked Pippin's hair and thought hard, hoping he would say the right things.

"Pip," he said softly, "When I was hurt by that wraith and I was getting sicker and sicker... what do you think I wanted more than anything?"

"What?"

"I wanted to go home, so very much. But we had to keep going, it was the only way I could get better. It was the only way to keep danger away from the Shire. Pip, do you remember how beautiful the Shire is, the sparkling rivers and green fields, and trees and flowers everywhere?"

Pippin started to ache with homesickness so badly that tears were running down his face. "Yes," he whispered.

Frodo was gazing at him intently. "That's what we're trying to save. That's why we're here, facing all these scary things and not stopping, no matter what happens."

"I.. I know," whispered Pippin. "It's just that---"

"Tell me why you're here. Why did you want to come with me so badly?"

"Because..." Of all the reasons leaping through Pippin's mind, one stood out clearly. He sat up again and looked at Frodo steadily. "Because you'd be out here alone, without any family." He caught Frodo's hand and held it. "We're your family, Frodo! We had to help you! And you were just going to up and leave and---"

"Oh," breathed Frodo. "Oh Pip." He squeezed Pippin's hand. "You have no idea what it means to me that you're here, no idea..." A new and more intense wave of dizziness washed over him. "We have to save the Shire, Pip, we're... we're the only ones who can. I think..." Pippin felt the grip on his hand weaken. "I... I'm still a little tired..."

Pippin didn't say anything as Frodo's eyes closed and he slowly relaxed, and soon he knew his cousin had fallen back to sleep. For the first time, Pippin began to wonder how badly Frodo had been hurt. Should he still be sleeping this much? He swiped the tears off his face and lay down between Frodo and the wall, pulling another blanket over them both. He shifted uncomfortably on the rocky ground and thought about everything Frodo had said. He wondered if he could ever be as brave as his cousin. He wondered how long it would be before they started back down that terribly narrow trail. He shivered and curled up into a ball, glad to still be as far from the rim of the ledge as he could get.

** TBC **