Author's Notes: This is the first story in a new series, Champions. It is yet another 'Boromir in Modern Earth after his death at Amon Hen,' but as I often like to do, it has a few new twists. Because really, where's the fun otherwise? I'm not entirely sure how many stories will be in this series. We'll just have to see. Also, please be advised that I'll be updating this when I have the opportunity. . .I'm working on other stories.
Disclaimer: Boromir and Middle-earth in general belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien, and somewhat to New Line Cinema. Boromir's mysterious rescuer; Megan and Kristin Rafferty; Captain Lydia Anders; Detective Elena Gutierrez; and all other modern type people belong to me.
This series is dedicated to Sean Bean, and to my sisters of the gwethil, for their patience, their laughter, and for listening.
Champions: Out of the Past
Prologue: The Chosen One
She had been watching him but for a short time. And in that short time, she saw everything she needed to know. He was magnificent. Long years passed since she walked among mortals, but if she still had a physical body, her breath would have caught in her throat. Oh, he was absolutely magnificent! A young warrior, proud and strong, penitent and humble. He reminded her so very much of the young ones in the modern world. . .they whom she claimed as hers. The warriors, the protectors, the guardians. The ones who stood between evil and innocence, and paid a high price for such bravery.
Just as, she recognized sadly, this young one would. Aye, the young lad would pay with his life. There were too many. . .too many. And one whom he could not see, and even if he did, he could not fight. An archer on the hill, preparing the young warrior's death even now. The first arrow took him in the shoulder. He staggered, falling briefly to one knee. And his two small companions stopped in their own battles, to stare at him in horror. But then, he surged to his feet, killing yet more of these abominations, the Uruk-hai. He fought on, steadily losing blood, and in terrible pain. She cringed in horror and sympathetic pain as a second arrow landed solidly in his midsection, and the force of the impact literally lifted him off his feet. He collapsed to his knees a second time, peering at his companions through tendrils of sweat-soaked hair.
And then he was on his feet once more! Such gallantry! Such determination, even in the face of death. If the young one knew fear, he did not show it. Instead, he dealt death blows to the demons, despite his own wounds, despite his blood loss. She almost regretted not having a physical body, for she would have gladly wept for this brave soldier. He would die defending these two tiny beings. He knew that, and still, he fought on. Until the final arrow found its mark in his chest, and he fell to his knees for the last time. Once more, he stared at his companions, but now, there was a pleading there. He was begging them for forgiveness, without saying a word. The two small ones seemed to understand that his strength was spent, for they rushed at the monsters, screaming in incoherent rage.
The small ones were swept into the arms of the demons, bearing them away from their valiant friend. . .each screaming his name. Whether they were begging him not to die, or. . . She knew not. The being knew only that the Uruk-hai tramped past the mortally wounded solder, no longer regarding him as a threat. More fool they. How many of their kind had he killed during the last several minutes? One man, alone. He had only his horn, now shattered, to call for aid. And where was that aid? Aye, she would weep for this one.
Slowly, oh so slowly, he raised his head to look up at the beast, even now drawing back an arrow for the killing blow, an arrow through the eye. The demon smiled at him mockingly, but her brave young warrior did not flinch. Pride rushed through her, and the outlines of a plan took shape in her mind. Before that final arrow was loosed, a second human male slammed into the monster, knocking him to the ground and sending the arrow wild. Her warrior collapsed forward, then dragged himself to a nearby tree.
She paid no attention to the second human. Instead, she focused her attention on her brave child. . .to her, he was a child. Much to her sorrow, she discovered that she was right. He was dying. . .rapidly losing blood. And the being wished again that she could weep for him. He deserved no less. . .he deserved so much more. The second human finished the fight, decapitating the demon, and ran to his side. In a halting voice, weak with pain, her warrior begged forgiveness for a failure. She knew not what he did. . .she cared even less. He was a valiant, great man. She saw the proof for herself.
It was so terribly wrong. All of this was. And the plan which fermented in the back of her mind for the last several moments now fit together. As the young man died in the arms of the second human, who was apparently his king, as his other two companions mourned his death, she nodded to herself. Oh aye. . .she would. The trio tenderly cleaned him, removing those evil arrows from his gut, chest, and shoulder. His hair was brushed, then he was placed inside a boat, along with his sword. Was there a more fitting funeral for one so brave? If there was, she knew it not.
Even so, it was all wrong. She had it within her power to right this wrong. Not by bringing him back from the dead, for his spirit had not yet departed for its ultimate destination. His soul had left his body, yes. . .but he was not beyond healing. She could not do that here. There was only one way to save him. She had to take him into the future. In the future, he could be healed. . .body and soul. The spirit hovered nearby, torn between peace and helping his friends, righting the terrible wrong he committed. Yes. . .yes, she could do this. She wanted to do this. She would do this. He would be an invaluable aid to her children in the modern world. He was like them, a warrior, a protector, a guardian.
With that, she closed her eyes and began to chant. A portal opened under the waterfall where her warrior's boat drifted. She would take him forward in time, reuniting body and spirit. Also, she would need to send a vision to his younger brother. It was necessary, to allow him to believe that his beloved brother was dead. It saddened her, but it was necessary. Things in this realm had to play out as they were meant to do. The boat fell over the edge of the waterfall, and through the portal. It would not land until she was ready for the new portal to open. She had to first choose a landing site, and in the meantime, this new Champion would remain between the worlds. 'Twill be good for him, she thought. Boromir of Gondor has fought for so many long years against the shadow of Mordor. He deserves a very, very long rest. And he shall receive it!