Boromir stood silent. Rauros roared endlessly on. The wind murmured in the branches of the trees. Frodo shivered.
Suddenly Boromir came and sat beside him. `Are you sure that you do not suffer needlessly? ' he said. `I wish to help you. You need counsel in your hard choice. Will you not take mine? '
'I think I know already what counsel you would give, Boromir,' said Frodo. 'And it would seem like wisdom but for the warning of my heart.'
`Warning? Warning against what? ' said Boromir sharply.
'Against delay. Against the way that seems easier. Against refusal of the burden that is laid on me. Against-well, if it must be said, against trust in the strength and truth of Men.'
`Yet that strength has long protected you far away in your little country, though you knew it not.'
'I do not doubt the valour of your people. But the world is changing. The walls of Minas Tirith may be strong, but they are not strong enough. If they fail, what then? '
'We shall fall in battle valiantly. Yet there is still hope that they
will not fail.'
'No hope while the Ring lasts,' said Frodo.
'Ah! The Ring! ' said Boromir, his eyes lighting. 'The Ring! Is it not a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt for so small a thing? So small a thing! And I have seen it only for an instant in the House
of Elrond. Could I not have a sight of it again? '
Frodo looked up. His heart went suddenly cold. He caught the strange gleam in Boromir's eyes, yet his face was still kind and friendly. 'It is best that it should lie hidden,' he answered.
'As you wish. I care not,' said Boromir. 'Yet may I not even speak of it?
For you seem ever to think only of its power in the hands of the Enemy: of its
evil uses not of its good. The world is changing, you say. Minas Tirith will
fall, if the Ring lasts. But why? Certainly, if the Ring were with the Enemy.
But why, if it were with us? '
'Were you not at the Council? ' answered Frodo. `Because we cannot use
it, and what is done with it turns to evil.'
Boromir got up and walked about impatiently. 'So you go on,' he cried.
'Gandalf, Elrond – all these folk have taught you to say so. For themselves
they may be right. These elves and half-elves and wizards, they would come to
grief perhaps. Yet often I doubt if they are wise and not merely timid. But
each to his own kind. True-hearted Men, they will not be corrupted. We of
Minas Tirith have been staunch through long years of trial. We do not desire
the power of wizard-lords, only strength to defend ourselves, strength in a
just cause. And behold! in our need chance brings to light the -Ring of Power.
It is a gift, I say; a gift to the foes of Mordor. It is mad not to use it, to
use the power of the Enemy against him. The fearless, the ruthless, these
alone will achieve victory. What could not a warrior do in this hour, a great
leader? What could not Aragorn do? Or if he refuses, why not Boromir? The Ring
would give me power of Command. How I would drive the hosts of Mordor, and all
men would flock to my banner!'
Boromir strode up and down, speaking ever more loudly: Almost he seemed
to have forgotten Frodo, while his talk dwelt on walls and weapons, and the
mustering of men; and he drew plans for great alliances and glorious victories
to be; and he cast down Mordor, and became himself a mighty king, benevolent
and wise. Suddenly he stopped and waved his arms.
'And they tell us to throw it away!' he cried. `I do not say _destroy_
it. That might be well, if reason could show any hope of doing so. It does
not. The only plan that is proposed to us is that a halfling should walk
blindly into Mordor and offer the Enemy every chance of recapturing it for
himself. Folly!
'Surely you see it, my friend?' he said, turning now suddenly to Frodo
again. `You say that you are afraid. If it is so, the boldest should pardon
you. But is it not really your good sense that revolts?'
'No, I am afraid,' said Frodo. 'Simply afraid. But I am glad to have
heard you speak so fully. My mind is clearer now.'
`Then you will come to Minas Tirith? ' cried Boromir. His eyes were
shining and his face eager.
`You misunderstand me,' said Frodo.
'But you will come, at least for a while? ' Boromir persisted. 'My city
is not far now; and it is little further from there to Mordor than from here.
We have been long in the wilderness, and you need news of what the Enemy is
doing before you make a move. Come with me, Frodo,' he said. `You need rest
before your venture. if go you must.' He laid his hand on the hobbit's
shoulder in friendly fashion; but Frodo felt the hand trembling with
suppressed excitement. He stepped quickly away, and eyed with alarm the tall
Man, nearly twice his height and many times his match in strength.
`Why are you so unfriendly? ' said Boromir. `I am a true man, neither
thief nor tracker. I need your Ring: that you know now; but I give you my word
that I do not desire to keep it. Will you not at least let me make trial of my
plan? Lend me the Ring! '
`No! no! ' cried Frodo. 'The Council laid it upon me to bear it.'
`It is by our own folly that the Enemy will defeat us,' cried Boromir.
`How it angers me! Fool! Obstinate fool! Running wilfully to d**h and ruining
our cause. If any mortals have claim to the Ring, it is the men of Númenor,
and not Halflings. It is not yours save by unhappy chance. It might have been
mine. It should be mine. Give it to me! '
Frodo did not answer, but moved away till the great flat stone stood
between them. `Come, come, my friend! ' said Boromir in a softer voice. 'Why
not get rid of it? Why not be free of your doubt and fear? You can lay the
blame on me, if you will. You can say that I was too strong and took it by
force. For I am too strong for you, halfling,' he cried; and suddenly he
sprang over the stone and leaped at Frodo. His fair and pleasant face was
hideously changed; a raging fire was in his eyes.
Frodo dodged aside and again put the stone between them. There was only
one thing he could do: trembling he pulled out the Ring upon its chain and
quickly slipped it on his finger, even as Boromir sprang at him again. The Man
gasped, stared for a moment amazed, and then ran wildly about, seeking here
and there among the rocks and trees.
'Miserable trickster!' he shouted. `Let me get my hands on you! Now I see
your mind. You will take the Ring to Sauron and sell us all. You have only
waited your chance to leave us in the lurch. Curse you and all halflings to
d**h and darkness! ' Then, catching his foot on a stone, he fell sprawling
and lay upon his face. For a while he was as still as if his own curse had
struck him down; then suddenly he wept.
He rose and pa**ed his hand over his eyes, dashing away the tears. 'What
have I said? ' he cried. `What have I done? Frodo, Frodo! ' he called. 'Come
back! A madness took me, but it has pa**ed. Come back! '
There was no answer. Frodo did not even hear his cries. He was already
far away, leaping blindly up the path to the hill-top. Terror and grief shook
him, seeing in his thought the mad fierce face of Boromir, and his burning
eyes.
Soon he came out alone on the summit of Amon Hen, and halted, gasping for
breath. He saw as through a mist a wide flat circle, paved with mighty flags,
and surrounded with a crumbling battlement; and in the middle, set upon four
carven pillars, was a high seat, reached by a stair of many steps. Up he went
and sat upon the ancient chair, feeling like a lost child that had clambered
upon the throne of mountain-kings.
At first he could see little. He seemed to be in a world of mist in which
there were only shadows: the Ring was upon him. Then here and there the mist
gave way and he saw many visions: small and clear as if they were under his
eyes upon a table, and yet remote. There was no sound, only bright living
images. The world seemed to have shrunk and fallen silent. He was sitting upon
the Seat of Seeing, on Amon Hen, the Hill of the Eye of the Men of Númenor.
Eastward he looked into wide uncharted lands, nameless plains, and forests
unexplored. Northward he looked, and the Great River lay like a ribbon beneath
him, and the Misty Mountains stood small and hard as broken teeth. Westward he
looked and saw the broad pastures of Rohan; and Orthanc, the pinnacle of
Isengard, like a black spike. Southward he looked, and below his very feet the
Great River curled like a toppling wave and plunged over the falls of Rauros
into a foaming pit; a glimmering rainbow played upon the fume. And Ethir
Anduin he saw, the mighty delta of the River, and myriads of sea-birds
whirling like a white dust in the sun, and beneath them a green and silver
sea, rippling in endless lines.
But everywhere he looked he saw the signs of war. The Misty Mountains
were crawling like anthills: orcs were issuing out of a thousand holes. Under
the boughs of Mirkwood there was deadly strife of Elves and Men and fell
beasts. The land of the Beornings was aflame; a cloud was over Moria; smoke
rose on the borders of Lórien.
Horsemen were galloping on the gra** of Rohan; wolves poured from
Isengard. From the havens of Harad ships of war put out to sea; and out of the
East Men were moving endlessly: swordsmen, spearmen, bowmen upon horses,
chariots of chieftains and laden wains. All the power of the Dark Lord was in
motion. Then turning south again he beheld Minas Tirith. Far away it seemed.
and beautiful: white-walled, many-towered, proud and fair upon its mountain-
seat; its battlements glittered with steel, and its turrets were bright with
many banners. Hope leaped in his heart. But against Minas Tirith was set
another fortress, greater and more strong. Thither, eastward, unwilling his
eye was drawn. It pa**ed the ruined bridges of Osgiliath, the grinning gates
of Minas Morgul. and the haunted Mountains, and it looked upon Gorgoroth, the
valley of terror in the Land of Mordor. Darkness lay there under the Sun. Fire
glowed amid the smoke. Mount Doom was burning, and a great reek rising. Then
at last his gaze was held: wall upon wall, battlement upon battlement, black,
immeasurably strong, mountain of iron, gate of steel, tower of adamant, he saw
it: Barad-dûr, Fortress of Sauron. All hope left him.
And suddenly he felt the Eye. There was an eye in the Dark Tower that did
not sleep. He knew that it had become aware of his gaze. A fierce eager will
was there. It leaped towards him; almost like a finger he felt it, searching
for him. Very soon it would nail him down, know just exactly where he was.
Amon Lhaw it touched. It glanced upon Tol Brandir he threw himself from the
seat, crouching, covering his head with his grey hood.
He heard himself crying out: _Never, never!_Or was it: _Verily I come, I
come to you_? He could not tell. Then as a flash from some other point of
power there came to his mind another thought: _Take it off! Take it off! Fool,
take it off! Take off the Ring!_
The two powers strove in him. For a moment, perfectly balanced between
their piercing points, he writhed, tormented. Suddenly he was aware of himself
again. Frodo, neither the Voice nor the Eye: free to choose, and with one
remaining instant in which to do so. He took the Ring off his finger. He was
kneeling in clear sunlight before the high seat. A black shadow seemed to pa**
like an arm above him; it missed Amon Hen and groped out west, and faded. Then
all the sky was clean and blue and birds sang in every tree.
Frodo rose to his feet. A great weariness was on him, but his will was
firm and his heart lighter. He spoke aloud to himself. `I will do now what I
must,' he said. 'This at least is plain: the evil of the Ring is already at
work even in the Company, and the Ring must leave them before it does more
harm. I will go alone. Some I cannot trust, and those I can trust are too dear
to me: poor old Sam, and Merry and Pippin. Strider, too: his heart yearns for
Minas Tirith, and he will be needed there, now Boromir has fallen into evil. I
will go alone. At once.