Untitled - BoG-Archive

But wherever his thought wandered, his effort was focused on one thing:
keeping up with Boromir. This was no easy task, and perhaps no other man
could have done it.
Boromir’s enthusiasm for the crossing of mountains had grown from a
somehow detached interest to a blazing excitement when Thurinir, the old
Ranger Master, had mentioned that while they would only be considered to have
passed the test if they crossed in less than eleven days, no man before had done it
in less than eight.
“Seven,” Boromir had whispered behind tented fingers. “We will do it in
seven.” Determined that it should be so, the pace he had set when they started off
had been like a wind, and had not slacked. He had quickly found great joy in
pitting himself against the mountain. The harder it became, the more he thrilled
at it. His weariness, the ache in his limbs at day’s end, felt much like the end of a
victorious battle, but one without any losses or darkness to dampen his cheer.
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On the second day, the path climbed more steeply than before, and to one
side the ground fell away into a steep ravine. A trickle of water could be heard
from its depth, though what stream it might join on its course was uncertain.
When they paused to catch their breaths and refresh themselves, Faramir leapt
from rock to rock to a point where he suspected he would be able to look out over
the lands below, and he gasped at the sight. League upon league of deep green
stretched out into the distance, where it faded to the pale green-gold of low
fields. The horizon faded into a pale haze, and the sky above was a perfect
cloudless blue. He gazed out at all this for a long moment, feeling the wind on his
face, then turned away to find Boromir standing a little behind him perched on
another of the boulders. He too looked into the distance.
“Just wait until we are further up; the views from the high places are said
to be magnificent.” Boromir said, clapping a hand to Faramir’s shoulder. “For
now, we should press on.”
The road continued to weave upward, the deep gorge growing yet deeper
upon their right until no sound of water or rustle of leaves could be heard from
its depths. To their left the boulder-strewn hill grew taller until it leapt up to
become a steep slope of stony soil, bare and dark and treacherous-looking.
Behind it the sun was hid and the path grew dim and chill. Though the sky above
was still clear and blue, and the wind still stirred a little, no sounds could be
heard; no small creatures scuttled down in the gorge, no birds sang, no crickets