Song: The Measure of a Man, written inspired by the traditions at a viking funeral.
Character: Boromir
All credit goes to Heather Dale for writing this lovely song, to Tolkien for writing this character and story, and to Peter Jackson for bringing the incredible story to life.
Steel on steel, break the blade that called him to his rest, and cast it to the deep...
Aragorn's vision swam, and he could hear his own breathing loud in his ears as he charged across the uneven ground, sliding to his knees on the leaf-strewn ground, and taking his friend into his arms. His eyes opened briefly, and they were murky with pain as they focused on the face hovering above him. He opened his mouth just long enough to breathe a few words, and Aragorn's voice choked as he made his final oath to the heir of Gondor, placing his fallen sword in his shaking hand.
Light the pyre, name the one whose shield is on his chest, and leave him to his sleep.
All about them the woods rustled in the rising wind, but Aragorn had no eyes for anything but the dying man beside him, no ears for anything save his last words. When at last his words ceased to come, his breath fleeing him and leaving behind the still pallor of death, he lowered his face to the man's and let fall a silent tear.
...The measure of a man stands or falls with what he leaves behind.
….Gather on the sand. Let your voices carry to the night, rise in light;
Let the gods look down on this and wonder.
Standing now, upon the banks of the river, looking upon the unmoving form of the fallen warrior, the ranger swore in his heart that though one of their number had now given his life in this quest, they would not give up hope. No, they would press ever harder, now that he was no longer walking in the land of the living, and prove to the gods that theirs was a journey and a destiny meant to be fulfilled.
Raise the ring, cast the broken circle to the deep, and give the sea her due.
Frodo pulled the chain that hung around his neck, releasing the gold band that was strung on it from the neck of his shirt, and regarding it with a humid gaze. This ring. This tiny bauble, was the seat of such power, and was the reason that they had come so far. Though its final destination was the fires of Mordor, he resisted the strong urge to fling it as far away from him as possible, to let it sink beneath the waters of the river, to be found by some greater person in ages yet to come.
Push the prow, let him lead the final charge again, where all will follow soon.
Giving the vessel a push, Aragorn stepped back and watched as the waters took their hold and rocked the wooden bier from side to side, the stern swinging wide into the current, and then righting itself. Gradually, the pull of the river inspired the boat to greater impetus, and it sped through the stream, carrying the remains of one of the company out of sight beyond the falls.
….The measure of a man stands or falls with what he leaves behind.
….Gather on the sand. Let your voices carry to the night, rise in light;
Let the gods look down on this and wonder.
The first to fall, and those left behind had to prove he had not fallen in vain.
...The measure of a man stands or falls with what he leaves behind.