5

Title: "The Last Quest"

Author: Darkover

Rating: K

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of the "Lord of the Rings" saga, which was written by J.R.R. Tolkien, nor am I making any money from this. I believe the good professor would understand, though, that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, so he would not want anyone to sue me.

Characters: Denethor and Boromir

Summary: Denethor still has things he must do, and much to learn. Please read and review.

There was tremendous pain, then…nothing.

No pain. No sensation of any kind. No sight, no smell, no sound. And then…

Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Steward of Gondor, blinked, but it wan an instinctive action. The daylight was bright, but it did not hurt his eyes. The scenery was beautiful: the grass, trees, clear blue sky, the distant waterfall which emptied into a distant but beautiful river. The sight was more breathtaking than anything he could recall seeing in Gondor, and he was just wondering if somehow, he had been transported to the fabled lands of the Elves, when a sight more beautiful than anything in nature greeted him.

"Boromir!" he gasped.

"Greetings, Father." The young man of that name, more handsome and princely-looking than ever, was walking toward him, smiling.

"Boromir, my Boromir…" Denethor sobbed, and held out his arms to his elder son. The younger man strode forward, to be instantly enveloped in his father's arms. If the hug he was given seemed more dutiful than loving, Denethor was too overwhelmed with joy to take heed.

"You have returned," Denethor gasped, still overwhelmed by emotion. "I knew you would come back, when Gondor needed you most. When *I* needed you most. I knew my most faithful, most loving and beloved son, would never fail me." His expression twisted. "Not like my younger son."

The tall young man in his arms drew back slightly. "Father, you are wrong about Faramir. You must accept that, if we are to go on."

The Steward ignored this. "I should not have believed your brother when he told me you were dead."

"I am dead, Father, and so are you," Boromir said, very gently. "Do you not remember?"

"Remember?" Denethor frowned. He could not think. There was something, something to do with Faramir…

Burning. Someone had tried to burn Faramir. Someone…oh, Eru, NO—

"Your brother! Men tried to burn him alive at my order!" Denethor whirled and tried to go back the way he had come, but could not find the way. "Faramir!" he screamed.

"Father, it is all right—"

"No! I must stop it!" Denethor shouted, struggling as his son tried to restrain him. "I was mad, but now I know—Faramir!"

Boromir was holding him again, the green eyes boring into Denethor's own. "Father, it is all right. Faramir is safe now. Trust me."

The former Steward of Gondor collapsed into his son's arms, weeping. "Oh, Boromir. I was wrong. I was wrong about your brother. I was a fool ever to look into the palantir. I have been wrong, for so long, about so many things."

This time, his elder son hugged him tightly, with much more tender enthusiasm than before. Denethor leaned on him.

After weeping in a way he had not wept since he was a small child, Denethor raised his head from the shoulder of his elder son. To his astonishment, Boromir was smiling, eyes kind.

"We were both wrong about many things, Father, not least of all our pride. The fact that you have begun to understand is the first step on the journey you must make."

"Journey?" Denethor said, openly bewildered. "What do you mean? And—and you said—we were dead, my son."

Boromir smiled gently. "We are, Father—and yet, we have never been so alive. You will understand all in time. I have been sent to make the journey with you. Mother is waiting for us, and your father, too. He wishes to ask your forgiveness for first setting you on the wrong path, by favoring Thorongil over you when you were a youth."

Denethor's thoughts still whirled, so his mind settled on the remark that was of most concern to him. "Your mother is here? I wish to see her!"

"In time, Father, in time," Boromir soothed. "She is beyond yonder river, and you—you cannot cross it just yet. You will in time, after we have finished our quest."

"What quest is that, my son?"

"It will be a daunting one," Boromir warned. "There are many things you have yet to learn, and must repent of, before you enter the Kingdom and the Light of Illuvatar. But I as I said, I have been sent to guide you along the way." Boromir grinned suddenly and thumped his father on the back. "Let it not be said that Men of Gondor ever shirked a quest, Father!"

Denethor laughed with a delight he had not known, much less shown, for years. "True! Let us go on together, my son!" And together they walked on, towards the far-distant river. Behind them, a white mist descended, separating them from Middle-Earth, sealing their departure from the world of Men.