It was hardly a masculine scream of anguish. But it seemed to the others who stood stricken silent with shock that Frodo had voiced the emotions of them all.
To the end of her life, Jeowyn would never forget the intense horror of that moment, as she watched the wizened old wizard plunge into the deep black chasm. She ceased to struggle in Boromir's arms. In fact she sank down a little, with a sensation of being slightly faint which was still new to her hardy constitution.
On the other side of the deep dark chasm the Orcs had not been idle. A shower of arrows flew across the pit and landed in and amongst the stricken group. One hit the struggling Frodo and glanced back. Seeing this, Delphaen took the hobbit in her arms and shielded him against further attack with her body as best she could. Behind her Aragorn deftly ducked several more arrows. Namariarwen, still in Sirius' arms, was nearly in a swoon. Suddenly:
"Renyarwen! I must save her!"
"Legolas, no!" Aragorn suddenly cried out, reaching out as if to restrain the elf, who had suddenly broken forward, as if a spell of inertia laid upon him had been lifted by an unseen force.
But Legolas shrugged off Aragorn's grasp and gracefully made his way to the precipice, where Renyarwen was crouched, numbed and blinded with pain and grief and loss. His passage forward was besieged by the many arrows that were now squarely aimed at him, a nearer target and a more obvious one than the group that stood behind him in the half-shadows, or the girl who crouched near the precipice.
As he reached her Legolas ducked another arrow, and turned his fair face back to the rest of the fellowship beyond. But the only person who met his glance was Jeowyn, and it was she who understood what a noble attempt his rescue of the fair Renyarwen really was.
"Boromir," she said in a commanding but calm tone she rarely used. "Let me go."
Boromir immediately did so. He looked utterly at a loss. Beside him, Delphaen still held the screaming Frodo in her arms, and though she was strong in body, his struggling meant that she had difficulty keeping a grasp on him. She was at last forced to put him down, but Sam and Pippin between them prevented Frodo from going any closer to the dangerous chasm.
Beyond them at the very dangerous chasm, Legolas was lifting Renyarwen into his arms. Everyone who watched flinched in unison as an arrow whistled past one of his ears. Again he looked at Jeowyn with that strange, desperate look.
"We must flee," Jeowyn gasped. "Now!"
Probably even this urgency would have failed to rouse the others, had she not taken it upon herself to head the fellowship. She quickly and gracefully made her way to, and up, the staircase that led the way out. At this, Boromir made as if to stop her, but suddenly cried out and dropped to his knees. Jeowyn turned. To her utter horror she saw that the hairy black shaft of an Orc arrow protruded from the soft part of his left shoulder.
Boromir reacted immediately but irrationally. He took the arrow in his right hand and pulled it out the way it had entered.
Delphaen grasped at Boromir's hand but it was all too late. Jeowyn shrieked, but there was no time to wonder. Boromir himself cried out once in pain, but in another second he had recovered himself and followed Jeowyn to where she stood halfway up the stairs.
His movement was all the others needed to be convinced that this was indeed what they were expected to do. Aragorn recovered his sense of composure and leadership, and it was he who urged the others forward. The hobbits, Delphaen, Opaline and Sirius with Namariarwen still in his arms needed no urging, but true to form, Gimli, who was now displaying the full effects of his phenomenally vicious temperament, had to be dragged out by Aragorn and Delphaen, who each took an arm and hauled him between them. Behind them all came Legolas, unstricken save but for a trickle of blood that stained one of his fair temples, and in his arms he held the beautiful Renyarwen, who was yet in a swoon.
The air outside was not particularly cold, but after the long dark of Moria they were chilled to the bone at the unexpected fresh air. Blinded they were also by the glare of the sun on the rocks in the barren landscape they found themselves in. And they wept there, wept for a wise and true friend named Gandalf.
Legolas gently laid Renyarwen out as comfortably as he could, and she opened her eyes and blinked, though she was too weak to stand and did not seem inclined to speak much. The hobbits wept without shame or restraint. Namariarwen was sobbing in her own native tongue while Sirius stood by, tearful with pity and his own grief, but unable to understand and so help her any further. Gimli was undoubtedly cursing energetically in his own language.
Opaline did not weep. She spent a long time gazing back from whence they came, her eyes burning with a shock and grief that could not express itself in ready tears.
Jeowyn sobbed with abandon, for more reasons than one, for Boromir had ignored his own physical pain and put his arm around her, and the wound in his shoulder bled heavily and looked serious. But as she wept, her natural grief for the dead became buried by a deeper concern for the living. Why did Boromir's shoulder not heal at her precious tears?
Delphaen, whose beautiful but tearless eyes expressed a grief more profound than any tears could have, finally drew Boromir's attention to it.
"You bleed," she said unnecessarily.
Jeowyn disliked her tone, but she had not the strength of will to fight with Delphaen. She drew a deep breath, and collected herself enough to examine the wound, which was bleeding freely.
"I don't understand." Jeowyn wiped her eyes with the back of one alabaster hand. "Whither is my power? This is beyond my skill to heal."
"But perhaps not beyond mine," said Delphaen. It was she who tended Boromir's wound and bound it for him as best he could.
But for the devastating loss of Gandalf, and this wound to Boromir, the rest of the Fellowship were not seriously scathed. The wound on Legolas' temple proved to be superficial, the result of a very very close shave indeed with an arrow.
Finally when he had ascertained that Boromir's injury was the only one they had seriously sustained, Aragorn stood up with the air of a stoic bent on stoicism.
"We must move on."
At his voice, Opaline was shaken out of her reverie. "Give us a moment, for pity's sake!" she snapped. It was completely out of character for her.
"You have had many moments, and they will do us no good. By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs!" Aragorn protested. "We must reach the woods of Lothlorien."
"And what of the fair maids, Namariarwen and Renyarwen?" protested Boromir. "They cannot be expected to walk..."
"No," said Aragorn. "Those of us who are still strong will carry them. Legolas..."
Legolas already had Renyarwen in his arms. With a sudden swift glance at Sirius, Aragorn lifted Namariarwen himself, and keeping close to the dazed, grief-numbed Frodo, he led the party onwards, away from the last resting place of Gandalf the Grey.