The Clash
He rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock on the opposite wall of the room.
It was around six in the evening. Which meant that they had been sitting in the
"quiet room" for at least two hours now.
They had been placed there after they had arrived and had gotten several
nurses coming in and saying nothing of substance, really. Even though he knew
that it was to keep them from freaking out, Faramir would much rather get the
cold, hard truth. At least they would know exactly what they would be dealing
with. Certainties, no matter how awful, he could face. Uncertainties just made
him jumpy and more prone to think the worst rather than the best.
He rubbed his eyes again, a nervous habit of his and looked at the other
occupants of the room.
Celeborn seemed to have retreated inside of him mind. Ever since they had
arrived, he had just sat in the corner, his eyes wide open and fixed on the
doorway as if he was afraid of missing something if he didn't keep careful
watch. Galadriel sat beside him, her head on his shoulder as she slowly stroked
his hair, her blue eyes terribly distant as she did this, almost as if her hand
was working out of its own accord and not really a part of her own body.
Merry was sitting beside him, his small face was set in a cold mask, his
hands were tightly clutching Faramir's sleeve. Even though the little hobbit
wasn't as attached to Boromir as Pippin was, he still was deeply disturbed at
what had happened. He had lost way too many people that cared about him in his
young life and the possibility of Boromir being added to that list was a
frightening prospect that made him want to cry. But he couldn't cry here. He
didn't want anyone to see him cry.
Legolas was curled up on the other side, his head lying on his shoulder, his
hand gripping his tightly. Occasionally, the slim elf would shudder and tears
would fall on Faramir's hand. He had then looked up from the floor, but when he
did, his eyes were full of tears and his mouth moved soundlessly, but no words
appeared. He would then sigh heavily and his gaze would fall onto the floor
again.
He was in so much pain, Faramir could see that. But he couldn't comfort him.
As much as he wanted to, Legolas was far away from him at that moment. No matter
what he did, he wouldn't be able to touch the barrier that the elf had erected
between them. He had been that unresponsive ever since Aragorn had called and
told them in a flat and emotionless voice about the accident. He had just let
Faramir guide him around, not really registering what was happening around him,
his mind focused on the fact that Boromir was hurt.
Aragorn sat across from them, his face a mask of heavily etched grief. He
hadn't shed a tear, or given any indication of how upset he was. He had been the
calmest of them all. Calling the ambulance, calling the Lothloriens, cleaning
Merry up. Comforting a hysterical Pippin. Giving the police information about
the car, which had sped off quickly after Boromir had landed on the pavement.
Not once did his voice falter when he was dealing with all these matters.
He was a sharp contrast with Pippin, who had been inconsolable and hysterical
until the doctors decided to sedate him for his own good. He was fully blaming
himself for Boromir's accident and had to be physically restrained from
following the paramedics into the trauma unit after they had gotten to the
hospital. After the doctors had sedated him though, he lay in a miserable and
drugged heap in Aragorn's lap, once in awhile crying out or sobbing softly as he
wandered around the drugged perimeters of his mind, not really registering
anything around him. Not even Aragorn's comforting touch on his hair as he
stumbled in his mindless stupor.
Aragorn, though was a godsend. He had kept his head and had pretty much taken
care of all that needed to be done after everyone had pretty much retreated to
their own minds in order to deal with their pain.
He just watched everything quietly, his blue eyes blazing fiercely with an
emotion that no one could readily identify. That had been the only concession to
his emotions that Faramir could see. That and the statement on his face that
made him look older than his seventeen years. For some reason, the lines of his
face had sharpened, making it crueler and tragic than ever. This event, coupled
with the bright blue sheen of his eyes made him seem more vulnerable than
before. It also made Faramir wonder whether Aragorn would be strong enough to
deal with the possibility of losing Boromir.
He bit his lip at that thought. He knew that he wouldn't be able to hold
everything together if Boromir died. He would fall apart without him there.
Legolas would help somewhat, but the elf could probably die of grief in case
that ever happened. They weren't in a romantic love anymore, but they loved each
other so much that they wouldn't be the same if either of them happened to leave
the other.
Although Legolas was like a doll, only moving whenever Faramir prodded him,
his mind was a swirl of emotions. Many possibilities were running through his
mind at that moment and he was too tired to even try and sort them out. The only
thread that was too prominent to ignore was the idea that Boromir could die.
"Don't think like that." He chided himself as he turned his head and buried
his face in Faramir's shoulder.
"Boromir won't die so easily" He felt himself beginning to smile at the
memory that the thought had brought up in his mind and was glad that he had
thought to hide his face lest everyone thought he had finally lost his mind.
He didn't really recall how old they were when it even happened. He guessed
that Faramir was maybe nine or ten and Boromir maybe eleven or twelve. Anyways,
it had been one of those child-hood memories that occasionally flash into your
mind at the oddest times.
(Flashback)
They had been messing around in the yard behind the house. Boromir had been
chasing Legolas up the tree and he was supposedly helping to get the "escaped
captive", but was instead sitting in the lower branches of the tree watching as
Legolas nimbly jumped from branch to branch while Boromir climbed them clumsily
and carelessly, his safety the last thing on his mind as he pursued the elf.
"Give it up, Sebbie! You can't catch me here!" Legolas called out as he
perched himself comfortably on the topmost branch of the ash tree.
Boromir scowled up at the foliage that was obscuring his vision. He was hot,
sweaty and he was getting pretty fed up of having chased Legolas for so long
without any success. The fact that Faramir was too small to actually be of any
help also added to his crappy mood. And there was the matter of the name...
"Stop calling me Sebbie, Marijuana Leaf!" Boromir yelled up into the branches
as he continued to climb the tree.
"Yeah, whatever, Sebastien! Come and make me stop calling you that!" Legolas
shouted back before giving in to his laughter.
He couldn't help but to needle Boromir that way. He knew that the human was
always touchy about his middle name, since it was actually "Sebastien" and no
one, it seemed, got that through their heads when calling him by it.
Legolas had to chuckle when he heard a low growl that was accompanied by the
rustling of leaves and branches that signaled Boromir's stubborn pursuit was
still going on strong.
He smirked to himself and looked around the tree for another spot to perch on
in case Boromir would actually succeed in climbing onto the thin top-most
branches of the tree. Although he was light for a human, being all gangly arms
and legs, Legolas knew that the branches wouldn't really support his weight if
he dared to climb up that high.
Realizing this for what seemed the first time, he looked down and was about
to yell down a warning when the sound of a cracking branch filled the air. This
was soon accompanied by Boromir yelling, a loud thud. Then silence.
"Shit!" Legolas wasted no time in jumping from his perch. If Boromir had
broken his neck, or split his head open.. Legolas shook his head of the morbid
images. Boromir was a hell of a lot tougher than that, he told himself. A fall
like that wouldn't hurt him too badly. Or would it?
He got his answer when he had just reached the lower branch in time to hear
Faramir give a high-pitched scream causing Celeborn and Galadriel to come
running out of the house.
"He's dead!" Faramir screamed hysterically. Legolas felt his heart leap into
his mouth at this announcement. Boromir couldn't be dead! He couldn't be! It was
just a fall!
He swallowed hard before he fell from the tree and landed on the soft grass
with a muffled thud. Not caring about dignity about that moment, he crawled over
to his friend, who had landed in a messy heap at the foot of the tree.
Legolas winced when he saw the blood that was slowly trickling down from the
top of Boromir's head and mixing in with his blond hair, making it a sickly
shade of orange-red that dimly reminded him of runny ketchup. One arm was
twisted up against his body in a unnatural angle that made Legolas wince, since
he knew that it had been broken in the fall.
"Boromir?" he whispered as he reached out to touch the still boy slowly and
carefully as if he were a delicate piece of china.
"What happened?" Celeborn asked as he picked up Faramir and tried to calm the
distraught boy down while Galadriel knelt down beside Legolas to get a better
look at Boromir.
"We were climbing the tree and I guess a branch broke and he fell."
Legolas explained in a rush as he prodded his friend. Boromir didn't feel
like a dead person and even though his breathing was ragged, he seemed to be,
for all intents and purposes, pretty alive.
"Is he dead?" Faramir asked Celeborn tearfully.
Celeborn gave him a comforting smile as he wiped the tears away from the
boy's pale face. He opened his mouth to soothe him with a little white lie when
they heard a groan coming from the ground followed by a sleepy, somewhat cross
voice.
"Quit poking me, you damned elf!"
"There's your answer sweetheart!" Celeborn replied, his smile a happy one now
that the danger had passed. If Boromir was cross enough to call his best friend
a damned elf, there was no danger of him dying anytime soon.
Once Galadriel had heard that, she gently picked up the coltish boy and
quickly bundled him into the car. Even though he was far from dead, he was still
going to need medical attention for his injuries.
The trip would have been made in a shorter span of time, but Celeborn,
Legolas and Faramir all had to go with them to King George VI hospital. Legolas
and Faramir had to go since they couldn't bear to be torn away from Boromir at
such a time and also because they had an irrational fear that Boromir would
maybe succumb to death if they weren't around to make sure that he was okay.
Celeborn only went along to keep the two boys out of mischief in the large
hospital. Which proved to be a difficult task when they were not allowed to be
with Boromir as he got fixed up.
Luckily, it only took about half an hour for the doctors to set his arm and
stitch up the nasty gash in his head. Which was about half an hour too long for
Celeborn, who was nearly at her wit's end with ways to keep Faramir and Legolas
busy before they snuck into the room Boromir was in.
Needless to say when Boromir was finally released, he was met by three
extremely relieved people. Although they were relieved for different reasons, it
was still nice to see Faramir, Legolas and Celeborn smiling at him as he slowly
made his way towards them.
"Bor!" Faramir shouted as he rushed towards his brother, but was adroitly
stopped by Galadriel, who grabbed the back of his hoodie before he could
actually collide with a pale faced Boromir, who was cradling his broken arm
carefully to his chest.
"What?" Faramir asked as Celeborn and Legolas surrounded Boromir and stared
asking questions about his injuries as well as fussing over him.
"Boromir's a little fragile right now, Faramir." Galadriel explained as she
looked at her older foster son, who although was relishing the attention he was
getting, looked terribly tired and nearly ready to fall asleep on his feet,
courtesy of the drugs.
"You have to be careful with him for a bit, okay?"
Faramir looked at his mother, then at his brother and nodded before he slowly
walked over to him and embraced him as if he were made of glass.
Galadriel only looked at her husband and smiled at the sight. Although
Faramir was taking the delicate bit a little too far, it was still very sweet to
see that he cared so much about his brother that he would take his mother's
words to heart.
They waited until Legolas had a turn to make sure that Boromir was fine
before they packed them up into the car and headed home to Lembas.
Once they had reached home, Boromir was then unceremoniously ordered into bed
by Galadriel, where he was fussed over and later joined by Faramir and Legolas.
He had been lightly dozing for awhile when the conversation happened.
"Hey Boromir!" His name had been whispered in a voice so quiet that he wasn't
sure whether he had really heard it at all of it was just a product of his
drugged mind or not.
"Boromir!" This was accompanied by a hand gently shaking his shoulder which
immediately made him wake up, since the shaking made his arm ache.
"What?" He asked the darkness, his words slurred both by his annoyance and
the pain-killers.
"You're okay, right?" A small, worried voice asked as a slim body carefully
laid itself next to him, avoiding the pillow that his aching arm lay on.
"Yeah. Just tired." He told Legolas as the elf reached over and carefully
brushed his hair out of his eyes.
"Hmm?" Faramir mumbled sleepily at the sound of their voices.
"Shh. Its alright." Legolas soothed him, brushing his hand over the other
bed-mate's hair.
"Uhm." Was the muffled reply before the occupant rolled over and presumably
fell asleep again.
They waited for several minutes before resuming their conversation lest they
wake Faramir up again. Once they were assured it was safe, they began to talk
again.
"You sure?" Legolas pressed again. Boromir snorted softly.
"Yah. It wasn't like I broke my neck or something. I just got stitches and a
broken arm. Nothing to worry about, since it'll heal soon, Greenleaf."
Legolas chuckled softly at the use of his full middle name. If Boromir was up
to teasing him, then it meant he was cool and there was nothing to worry about.
"Yeah. Well. We were worried you were dead." Legolas stated bluntly, laying
his hand on Boromir's cheek.
Legolas brushed his thumb against Boromir's lips in a nervous gesture as he
tried to convey how worried he and Faramir had been. How awful it had been to
see him lying so still, with blood pouring down his face and his eyes closed in
what possibly could have been forever.
"Thanks for worrying." Boromir whispered, breaking the silence. He hoped that
Legolas would understand how deep his gratitude ran. Sure, Galadriel and
Celebrian were worried about him, as was Faramir, but having a person outside
the immediate family to worry over him was both touching and very cool.
"You're my best mate! Of course I'm going to worry!"
"I know. But you didn't have to." He laughed softly.
"I have no intention of dying so easily, Leaf. Believe me. Death won't have
me so easily. I'm going to fight it with all I got when the time comes."
Lee smiled, even though he knew that Boromir couldn't see him. He knew that
the words were foolish, since Boromir was mortal. He'd have no choice when his
death would come. He would inevitably succumb to it. But it was still nice to
hear that he wouldn't do so without fighting every step of the way. That there
would be plenty of time for them to spend together.
"I believe you." Legolas had finally conceded before he lay down beside him,
his hand still on his friend's face.
"Good." Boromir had replied before shutting his eyes.
(End Flashback)
It was odd how he hadn't thought of that specific conversation in years and
now, at the most crucial time ever, he was suddenly recalling it. It was odd
what stress could do to someone's mind.
Maybe that was why he wasn't as upset as he had been earlier. The memory of
Boromir stoutly declaring that he was going to fight Death had lifted his
spirits somewhat. It may have been foolish to take such comfort in words, but
Legolas believed that Boromir would honestly do his best not to succumb. And the
reason why he believed them so strongly was because in all his life, Boromir had
always kept his word. He had never broken his promises and Legolas was sure it
wasn't going to happen now of all times.
He was so caught up in his musings about his best friend's honour that he
nearly missed the entry of the doctor that was in charge of Boromir's
well-being.
Celeborn, oddly enough, had been the first to notice him. Moving quickly, he
walked up to the doctor and looked at him with his quiet blue eyes.
"Mr. Lothlorien?" The doctor, a slim, youngish man with dark brown eyes and
soft honey hair asked the taller elf, who nodded quietly. Galadriel stood up
then and walked up to them, nodding at the doctor in the way of a greeting.
"I'm Doctor Tyler. I'm here to tell you about your son's condition at this
time."
"How is he?" Galadriel asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke.
"I won't lie to you. Boromir was lucky to have survived getting hit by that
car. Judging from his injuries, the car was traveling quite fast. If it had
struck the little boy, it would have killed him."
The doctor paused as he tried to find the most sterile and least painful way
to tell them about their son's injuries.
"Boromir suffered blunt trauma to his chest. This caused several fractured
ribs. One which pierced and punctured his left lung. Both of his legs were also
fractured and his left shoulder was dislocated. He is stable though, and it
looks like he will stay that way as well."
He ran a hand through his hair before continuing on with the catalogue of
injuries the boy had suffered.
"Also, there is quite a bit of swelling in his spinal cord due to trauma of
the accident. We suspect that this happened when he hit the pavement. There's
also a chance of a head injury. We don't know how mild or how severe it is at
the moment, but we do know that there is no hemorrhaging at the moment. "
Legolas shuddered at the words and tightened his grip on Faramir's hand. Was
Boromir going to be paralysed then? Is that what the doctor was telling them in
his careful words?
"Is he going to walk again?" Celeborn asked, his voice flat as he spoke.
The doctor sighed. "I can't say yes or no. We have to wait until the swelling
goes down to see whether there are any injuries to his spine. When that happens,
we will be able to do an MRI and know for sure whether that is the case or not.
I'm sorry. That's all I can tell you right now."
Celeborn and Galadriel nodded. The doctor was right. There wasn't much of
anything that they could do except worry and hope that he would come out of this
okay.
"Can we see him?" Aragorn asked, his voice harsh from his imposed silence,
making his request sound like a command rather than a plea.
"Yes. I'll take you there right now. Follow me, please."
Aragorn didn't know what to expect when he was told that he and Legolas could
go see Boromir. He hadn't been in a hospital since the day he had been born and
the whole atmosphere was making him feel edgy and on the verge of tears.
As he walked past the antiseptic-smelling hallways that led to Boromir's
room, he felt like his heart was going to stop and he was going to black out.
He still was in shock over the afternoon's events. Even though he had seen
the car hit Boromir with a sickening crunch, and the way that Boromir's body had
bounced first against the hood, then against the glass before finally landing on
the pavement with unbelievable force; it still felt like a nightmare.
Nothing had felt real after he had seen Boromir land on the pavement. Even
though he saw the blood and the twisted limbs, it didn't feel real. He thought
he was going to wake up soon. He had made the phone calls to the ambulance, to
the Lothloriens, Faramir, cleaned Merry up and calmed Pippin down, he honestly
thought he was going to wake up.
The feeling of surrealism was still present even when he saw Legolas break
down and Faramir comfort him despite the tears running freely down his face. The
way that the Lothloriens and Merry were stoically grieving still hadn't managed
to break this feeling. As he came closer to the room, he wondered if he too was
going to lose the calm exterior that had served him well. He also wondered if he
too was going to break and whether it was going to be as shattering as it had
been when his mother had committed suicide last summer.
His thoughts were interrupted when he and Legolas paused in front of a room
that had no actual walls. Instead of walls, it had glass doors like the kind
that were used for patios and curtains behind them in order to give the patient
the illusion of privacy.
Legolas took a deep breath, an action that made Aragorn look at him
curiously. He had never seen the elf so raw. So worn and pained. He put his hand
on the elf's shoulder and squeezed hard.
"Thanks." Legolas whispered. "It's just so hard." He choked back a sob.
"I can go alone." Aragorn offered, but the elf shook his head.
"I am fine now. I just needed some time to compose myself." He took a deep
breath and nodded.
They entered the pseudo room, ducking past the heavy blue curtains and right
beside to the only uncluttered spot beside Boromir's bed, since the other sides
were taken up by various other machines that beeped and made other noises as
they measured things he didn't know about.
"Oh." Aragorn said, his voice a strangled gasp as he moved closer to the bed.
Boromir lay perfectly still on the bed. He was naked from the waist up and
there were bruises and bandages around his chest. There were I.V.'s in both arms
and there was a clear tube taped to his mouth that was attached to blue plastic
piping that led to a respirator that hissed as it helped Boromir to breathe.
There were cuts and scrapes on his face and there was a bandage round his head.
If it hadn't been for these things, Aragorn would have sworn that Boromir was
just sleeping and not drugged up to the teeth like he probably was. That he was
going to open those green eyes of his and smile at him and banish all the
horrible possibilities that were preying on his mind right now.
Aragorn swallowed hard when he noticed the stiff white brace around Boromir's
neck that was keeping his head perfectly still. He then scanned the length of
him and saw that despite the blanket, he could see the outline of the long casts
on Boromir's legs.
He shook his head and closed his eyes. He wasn't seeing this! This wasn't
Boromir! It wasn't!
This was all a dream and he was going to wake up soon and be in Boromir's
arms and he would tell him about it and it would all be forgotten and he would
never think of it again!
He opened his eyes again. No. it was all real. Boromir was still unconscious.
Still in the grip of drugs. In the grip of an uncertain future.
He reached out and stroked Boromir's face in a futile effort to rouse his
boyfriend. His soul-mate. Even though he caressed the pale and soft flesh as
carefully and tenderly as he could, it made no difference. Boromir was, for now,
out of his reach.
Realizing this, Aragorn carefully bent over the sleeping figure and placed a
soft kiss on his forehead before literally running out of the room, out of the
hallway, out of the hospital until he found himself in the field directly in
front of King George VI hospital.
Once there, he looked up at the dark autumn sky that was lit only by the
light of the half-moon. He was breathing hard and his face was wet. He reached
up and stroked his cheek. Looking down, he saw that his fingertips were wet with
tears that he didn't remember crying.
It was then, in that cold moonlight that his mind finally gave up its
resistance to the truth. Falling onto his knees, he began to sob. Quietly at
first, then with loud keening noises until they reached a crescendo that
exploded into a single word.
"WHY?"
by Jim Morrison
Chapter X
Lovers in a Dangerous Time
"Gonna kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight."
—Bruce
Cockburn.
aramir was utterly numb as he sat in the
sombre room. Although they had tried to make it somewhat cheery, with several
landscape paintings and nice, comfortable couches and light pastel blue walls.
But no matter how hard they tried to make the room look like a comfortable den,
the fact that it was far removed from the common waiting room and just five
minutes away from the trauma area made it all seem like a waste and served only
to remind the people sitting in the room of the seriousness of the situation.
