Boromir's Monologue:
For long I have dwelt on the events that led to Frodo's flight from the fellowship, on how they may be perceived, how they really occurred, and the truth deep in my own heart. It causes me deep pain, and a regret like none other to know that in the end the blame will verily fall upon my shoulders. Despite the respect I have for that Halfling from the Shire, so small and yet full of strength that would be renowned were it that he was a warrior of Gondor, I know that the wedge that split him from companionship, and the comrades long he had travelled with, was I. That, and my foolish pride...as well as desperation.
Who can blame me? Many harsh years has the south battled against the seeping, creeping tide of darkness that spreads from Mordor, as though it was poison making its way through the blood to the beating, throbbing heart. We have stood since before the time of my fore-fathers against the onslaught, with strength that knows it is born from the fear of the frontline; that is the fear that were we to fall, then all of Middle-Earth would be overrun by the forces of Sauron and his wretched design. It has been Gondor which has born such a heavy burden throughout the ages with no complaint while the rest of the lands know not the terror that awaits them beyond their comfortable homes. However no battlement will withstand a constant barrage, even those of my home will weary some time.
After the long years that we have struggled, we have weakened greatly. I know that the hearts of my kinsmen, as well as my comrades, feel despair. There never seems to be any end in sight, as if by some cruel plan we are fated to forever toil away in the stench of blood and death. It is a scent that even I am impossibly familiar with. I wonder if it is a result of many generations of my family defending my city's walls, such that now it is a part of my very being. If that is so, if indeed this is a curse planted deep inside, then I shall grieve for not jut those who have fell at the hands of the enemy, for the numbers are many, but for the future as well. Never shall the white towers of Minas Tirith be pure again. Forever will they be stained by the filth of war. It is and will always be a dark blot on our great history, this ceaseless conflict.
The Ring though, I thought with that I could free my people from their torment. Perhaps I at last, Boromir of Gondor, the Kingdom Man, would be able to open the way for a brighter future. That tiny thing so packed with power could certainly offer my people salvation. If only I were able to take that small circlet of possibility and hope...but no. Out of my reach it was, condemned to destruction because of fear. It screamed in my mind, the injustice! When I pleaded so mightily for aid, though it felt as if I were betraying my kinsmen, and laying aside all faith in them, still I was refused. It was called a fellowship, but I saw no signs of that! When I put so much on the line for them, though I was needed in the south, they never lay aside their own desires!
If only it had been so that I might have laid my hands on the One True Ring, I would have...I would have...I...he was so terrified of me, Frodo, son of Drogo. That dear little Hobbit. If only I could apologize for the evil things I did. I never meant to betray him, to drive him away, and into solitude. The fear, mistrust... Much in the way Gondor was forced to stand alone, so was he. Worse, the fault lies with me. Some where along the way I just... I seemed to have gotten a little lost.
A/N: So, this is just a thing I did for English. I feel very strongly about Boromir's character, and as such could probably rant about him all day long. Blah blah blah. Drop a review if you have the time!