Disclaimer: * does not own LotR*

Warning: Character death! (fully canon – Boromir)

Author's Note: Well, not sure what I think of this story. It might be dirt, for all I know. The idea came to me in the middle of Latin class, and I just HAD to write it down, or my mind would have exploded. (That happens to me a lot.)

Part 1

Boromir jerked back and stared in horror at the black arrow that had seemingly sprouted from his chest. With an animalistic cry, he swung his sword wildly, felling yet another Uruk.

He was shot yet again, falling to his knees before summoning all his strength and gstanding to his feet. A snarling Uruk came at him, and he killed it and two more besides. But the exertion coupled with a third bolt thudding into chest drove him down.

He knelt there as the horde of Uruk-hai swept on past him; he did not see them. His mind was back on that day when he left Minas Tirith for Imladris.

- FLASHBACK -

Boromir was standing alone on the very top level of the White Tower. He set his elbows on the stone balcony, looking out on the Fields of Pelennor. It was a good day for travel, he decided.

"Boromir!" He turned to see a ruddy-brown haired girl in a light blue dress runing towards him. He broke out in a smile when he saw her, and he caught her up in his arms.

"Eleníel!"

"I was so afraid that I would not have found you before you left!" she exclaimed breathlessly.

He smiled, putting a finger to her lips. "Shh. I do not want anybody to know that we are up here."

"Why not?" she asked, but lowered her voice anyways.

"Because many girls in this city wish to win my hand, when I have already pledged my heart to you." he answered, kissing her brow.

Eleníel giggled girlishly as he did this, but she sobered quickly. "I wish you did not have to leave." she said in a low voice.

"I wish I could stay here with you, too." Boromir replied quietly.

She looked up at him with worried eyes. "What if you do not come back?"

"I always come back." he answered, before touching his lips to hers.

- END FLASHBACK -

He was jerked back to reality by Aragorn screaming a war cry. The Dunédain tackled the lead Uruk, sending the arrow that had been aimed at Boromir's heart ricocheting harmlessly off the trees.

Suddenly overcome by exhaustion and blood loss, Boromir fell backwards, landing in the leafy loam. I am sorry, Eleniel, my love. I was wrong. I will not be coming back. He saw her face in his mind's eye. That snow-white skin framed by that soft hair; those dark brown eyes; those rose-red lips, those perfect white teeth. He longed to touch her again, to hold her in his arms, to kiss her. But he knew it was over.

The image faded, and he opened his eyes to see Aragorn kneeling beside him, trying to take out the three black arrows. Boromir grasped Aragorn's hand, stopping it from moving. "Leave it. It is over." Aragorn slowly withdrew his hand as Boromir asked, "Frodo. Where is Frodo?"

"I let Frodo go." Aragorn replied, looking him in the eyes.

Boromir smiled wanly. "Then you did what I could not." He felt around in the loam for his sword. It was not there.

Aragorn understood what he was looking for. He found the sword and placed it in Boromir's hand, clasping it to his chest.

"I left somebody behind in Minas Tirith…Eleníel, daughter of Thorondir. Tell her…that I am sorry…that I did not come back…tell her…that I loved her…with all my heart." Boromir gasped.

He grew still, and as the death rattle escaped his mouth, so did one word.

"Eleníel."

I offer my sincerest apologies if you feel that Eleníel is a Mary-Sue. It's just how Boromir sees her. Aragorn, on the other hand, will see her quite differently.