The Strength of Men
by Aeris Tiniel Mirime
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Lord of the Rings, Boromir, Aragorn, etc. don't belong to me. I merely write about them.
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Today I witnessed something that change my way of thinking. For I had always been told that the wills of many humans were weak, and if a man did not keep his honor closely, he was easily deceived. I looked at the Nazgul, those pathetic, manipulated men, though they be men no longer. If they, the once great kings of the men could be tricked so simply, what would the fate of the rest of us be?
We had been afraid. I of my past. He of his future. I, dark haired Aragorn, son of Arathorn, feared my nobility - Isildur. Feared his blood. The same which flows in me.
Fair haired Boromir, next steward of Gondor, guarded with caution his weaknesses. His weakness to The Ring, and what his future actions because of it might be, frightened him. As we drew nearer and nearer to Mordor, Boromir's countenance often grew woeful.
But I am not afraid anymore, because today is the day he died. Never have I seen such strength as he had. None on earth possess such valor and loyalty as this lord of Gondor. To his every ability, and farther than that, he protected the hobbits. The little ones, as he called them. Resisting the throes of a hundred deaths, Boromir carried on when all others would have fallen. My friend thought himself weaker than me, but he has done more than ever I could dream. His blood was none but the very blood Elros, and of Elendil, and now I know that it is not as Lord Elrond says, though he is very wise. The ancient kings' blood is not spent. It courses, it lives, it manifests itself in the bravest of men - men such as Boromir.
Elrond was there the day the strength of men failed. But I was there the day the strength of men rose from the grave, in the heart of a man who selflessly took it's place.
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