Okay, this is the first actual long story fic I have written, so it's really important to me that you review! But no flames!
This is set after the events of "The Fellowship of the Ring," and there ARE spoilers ahead, so beware! Basically, after Boromir's death, he is accidentally brought to an alternate dimension by a magical mishap. That sounds stupid, I know, but it's actually pretty good, and I'm some damn proud of my story!!
Oh yes, I need a disclaimer! I don't own Boromir, or any of the other LoTR people (or dwarfs). In the beginning, when Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli find Boromir, I used some of the dialogue from the book, because I wanted to make it as accurate as possible. I don't own them! Every thing else is mine, except reviewer added stuff which brings me to my next point...
At some parts, I may ask for ideas for characters or plots, or something else. I like making my fics interactive, because that way I get more reviews!!! Hehe.. oh anyway, If you have any ideas, send them in, but it's imperative (nice word usage, huh?), that you have read this chapter.
"Are you ready, Lady Hathrá?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure you are strong enough to do this?"
"Alas, no child, but what choice do I have? The people are relying on me… I cannot disappoint them."
"Lady, I-"
"Be calm, Meleká. You worry far too much. If you remain this way, you are the one who will fall."
"Perhaps sometimes my worries are baseless, but today I fret with good reason. You know what Elysia does to those she finds displeasing."
"All to well, apprentice. I know far more about this than you do, girl. Remember that well."
"I just want you to be safe, Hathrá!"
"One day, you will realize that this is not a duty to be undertook by the faint of heart. I understand the risks. Now give me my staff and help me up!"
"Be wary, Lady."
"But not distrustful, Meleká. Cynicism is safer, but it is not wiser."
"Good luck."
"And to you. If I do not return, you shall have to fend for yourself."
"Your return is the least of my worries. Right now, I fear that you will collapse the second you walk through these doors."
"Then have more faith."
"In you?"
"Yes. As well as in yourself."
Aragorn watched helplessly as Boromir eased his eyes closed and rested his head on the filthy, orc-trampled ground. He fought tears back as he gazed at the face of his finally fallen friend. He knew that he should speak to his companion, say anything to ease his self-inflicted pain, but the words would not come from his tear-choked throat.
"Boromir?" he whispered when at last he could speak, though he knew fully well that he would receive no answer from this once vital man. Boromir's eyes remained closed, his fair hair plastered to his face with cold sweat.
"Fare thee well, brother. Gondor shall miss you. May your people forever sing of your courage and loyalty!"
But while the body of the prince may have lay near Aragorn, his spirit was elsewhere, gone somewhere Aragorn was not entirely sure existed. He perceived that Boromir could not hear him, but though he knew it was senseless and foolish, he could not help but try to speak to him. He would pray for him, Aragorn decided. Boromir had been a good man, but he seemed to believe that he had done something truly terrible.
I will wish for your blessing, friend, he whispered to the sky, as opposed to the fallen man below him. I will hope that you get your just reward for the honesty and kindness you showed us all.
He turned at the sound of crackling branches behind him, just in time to see Gimli and Legolas crash through the undergrowth.
"Alas!" cried Legolas, moving to stand by Aragorn above the fallen Boromir. "We came when we heard the horn- but too late, it seems. I fear you have taken deadly hurt."
Aragorn looked up, his fair face muddy and streaked with tears and sweat.
"Boromir is dead," he said heavily. "I am unharmed, for I was not here when the orcs attacked. He fell protecting the hobbits."
"The hobbits!" said Gimli. "Where are they then?"
"I do not know." said Aragorn. "Boromir claimed that the orcs had bound them. He did not think them dead. What is to be done now?"
"First we must tend the fallen," said the elf. "We cannot leave him lying here like carrion among these orcs."
"But we must be swift," said Gimli. "He would not wish us to linger."
"He would not wish us to linger," Legolas repeated softly.
Somewhere in a place beyond the comprehension of time or position, Boromir's restless spirit lay, filled with anguish over the revelation of his death. His soul was too filled with sorrow to fly free, as it should have done, so he lay, angry at himself and at fate, filled with jealousy for the living, and weighted with grief at what he had done before his rest. Above him, the Light Sphere glinted, reflecting colors he knew, and some he had never seen before. He could not reach it, he knew, for it was too far above him and he could never find the peace he needed to achieve weightlessness. He did not wish to go there. He needed to live again. He would fight the Light Sphere until the end of eternity, would never embrace it, no matter whether it was heaven or hell.
His heart was too heavy to continue to wander, so he felt himself begin to fall. Where he was sinking to, he had no idea, but he knew that if he fell, he would never be able to return to his body, so he fought it. The thought that he would never be able to return to life had not crossed his mind. As far as he was concerned, life was still attainable.
"Lady Hathrá."
Hathrá turned to the priest who had just adressed her, and nodded in the affirmative. Beside her, Meleká stood, stiff with aprehension, her young face filled with worry.
Hathrá smiled at him as graciously as she could, trying to mask her own aprehension. "Yes?" she asked, pleased at the way her voice displayed nonchalance, hiding her true emotions.
The man bowed at her, his expression one of reverence. "It is time," he said simply. "The people await you." This said, he turned slowly, and walked out the large, ornamental doors, his ceremonial robes trailing behind him.
"Please, do not do this, Lady," begged Meleká, her dark eyes filling with tears as she spoke. "I will tell the people you are not strong enough. They will wait."
The old woman shook her head at the girl. She knew it was pointless to try and make her apprentice understand that she wanted to do this, but she had no choice but to try. "They will wait, Meleká, but they will not understand. Elysia will accept me, I assure you," Hathrá spoke kindly, trying to assure both the young girl and herself at the same time, and not convincing either. "This is my duty, child." she said, failing this time to keep the tremor out of her voice.
Meleká nodded, tears spilling across her cheeks. "I know. One day, I too, will be confronted with this decision. May I make it with as much grace and selflessness as you have."
Hathrá pulled Meleká into an embrace. For a few moments they simply stood there, holding each other, each dreading the rapidly drawing time when mistress would have to leave apprentice. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, the amplified voice of the High Priest rang out through the large room they stood in.
"Friends!" he boomed, his voice reverberating off of the wooden walls. "Today, we see the end of our suffering. We see our salvation, and today, it comes to us in the form of one of the most celebrated sorceresses in all of Fiolla! For years, we have suffered from terrible famine, drought, earthquakes, and floods. But no longer! Friends! Let us welcome our savior, the Grand Lady Hathrá!"
The applause and cheering was deafening. "See, girl?" Hathrá said. "The people need me to help them." she paused for a moment. "They need us to help them," she whispered, her voice carrying a note of finalty. "You must be brave Meleká, whether or not I return. If I do not see you again, may you always be brave. May you be strong for your people, and may you forever remember me and the way of Light."
Meleká nodded, not trusting her voice. Hathrá kissed her forehead and then turned to her guards.
"Open the doors," she quietly demanded. Slowly the great wooden slabs opened to reveal a crowd of cheering men and women. Hathrá walked forward, her face wearing a gentle, soothing smile. The last glimpse Meleká got of her mistress was Hathrá bowing to the priest. She was denied further view when the doors closed.
At last, Meleká thought she could speak.
"I will Lady." she said softly. "I will be brave."
Well, I hope you liked that! I'm sorry it was so short! The next chapter will be longer, I promise. If you have any ideas of what should happen, any character ideas, even something small like a clothing design, write a review and tell me! I will use as many as I can!