The Burglar
Boromir's boots clicked irritably on the intricate tiles as he paced back and forth within his chambers at Rivendell. The man was stewing in his temper, and the worse thing was he couldn't vent his frustrations and anger against the one person who had caused him so much embarrassment the day before at the Council of Elrond. Himself.
In short, he'd made an arse of himself. He had come to the Council seeking answers to a riddle in a reoccurring dream of which he and his brother had shared. Instead, he found himself pitted against names of lore and legend such as Elrond Half-Elven, Gandalf the Grey and worst of all Aragorn son of Arathorn who was apparently the lost king of Gondor and Arnor and who he was expected to someday kneel to and offer his allegiance. But instead of listening patiently and paying heed to what was said by these great ones he had opened his big mouth and gave them a grand demonstration of how much the ignorant little boy was still within him who thought he knew best. He had been taken down utterly and his pride was shattered.
Then to add to his stupidity, he had volunteered himself to join on the quest to destroy the One Ring, a vow he had made when only now the enormity of it was dawning on him. Valar, the One was being carried by a Hobbit, into the impregnable Mordor and some of their party had never even heard of it before! "Great, where are we going?" one of the Halflings had said, and Boromir 's insides had twisted with rage at the stupidity of the seemingly wise for allowing, foolish, weak Halflings on this great quest which was being treated as a simple expedition.
But that's what had made him look the most stupid that day at the Council, his underestimation of Hobbits. When the old Hobbit Bilbo, as he was called, offered himself to bear the Ring to Mordor he had laughed, actually laughed out loud at the Council, thinking the Hobbit to be an exceedingly funny jokester but he was met by a harsh silence and cruel glances. Even now it made him blush heavily.
He opened his shirt collar slightly to allow the air to cool him down as he felt his hot temper rear it's ugly head again. Perhaps he should go for a walk and get a breath of fresh air, that had always seemed to calm him down in Minas Tirith, where he could relax around the citadel with Faramir and watch the sun sink low; catching the Anduin and painting it red with a sparkle. But this wasn't Minas Tirith; this was some strange and eerie place with those unearthly Elves and their unsettling glances. He couldn't understand how the Halflings and everyone else seemed to be having such a great time. He definitely needed to get outside.
He walked around the corridors for a bit, always changing direction when he saw someone heading his way, without making it look like he was avoiding anyone. With being alone his solid goal in mind he wasn't paying attention to where he was going and became thoroughly lost. Unwilling to ask for help, he looked about him, trying to find something familiar to lead him on the right track and for the first time actually really took note of what was around him in Rivendell. He found a small stream running by one of the outdoor lanes and Boromir, no longer caring about the fact that he was lost, was quite content to just follow it.
"Hello!"
Boromir's head shot up. He glanced around quickly trying to find the source of the voice.
"Oh, you won't find me up there with your tall height! I'm down here."
Boromir looked down then, and his blood ran chill and his face flushed a hot red as realised he had totally overlooked the Halfling sitting on a warm stone by the stream. And not just any Halfling, it was the elderly one he'd had the cheek to laugh at the Council.
"I beg your pardon," Boromir blustered, totally embarrassed and ashamed that the Hobbit should even go out of his way to even talk to him considering what happened and so soon after the incident as well.
"I… I wasn't expecting to find anyone around this area."
"If you were hoping for solitude, I apologise, but you've just happened to stumble across my favourite spot! But I can share, you're most welcome to join me if you'd like?" the elderly Hobbit set the red leather book he held in his hands to one side and patted the dusty, riverbank earth at his side.
Boromir unconsciously fidgeted uncomfortably. He had mocked the Hobbit severely at the Council and now he was inviting him to sit with him? What should he say in this situation? He didn't really want to stay but to refuse would be a further snub to the Hobbit and Boromir really didn't want the Hobbit to think he thought badly of him.
"Come now, I won't bite! Your name is Boromir, right? I am Bilbo Baggins," he offered his hand and Boromir was somewhat glad that Bilbo had not addressed his name with any titles. Perhaps he didn't know he had any! But it seemed to lift the titles and all the responsibilities related to them, off his shoulders and he felt that for once he could be free, like an everyday man. He smiled shyly and came to take the small hand and shake it, "A pleasure to meet you," he said even though they had already met, before placing himself on the ground near to the Hobbit.
Straightaway Boromir leapt into an embellished apology before the Hobbit, one he did not realise at the time, sounded a great deal like one he would deliver before his father as a boy.
"I must apologise for my outrageous performance yesterday, Sir. I sincerely did not mean to cause offence, I honestly thought you were joking. Not that I doubt you for one minute on your ability to carry the Ring, Sir but-" here Boromir was interrupted as Bilbo shook his head, laughing slightly.
"Lies, lies!" he said smiling with a twinkle in his eye, "Don't you try and sauce me with your fancy words! Your apology is accepted, but I don't need any buttering up! And you can call me Bilbo by the way, it suits more that Sir, I should think."
Boromir was completely caught of guard. This was not all the reaction he had expected. What a strange little person. "Thank you," was all that he could think of to say.
"That's quite alright. I don't blame you, you know. I'm sure I must have looked ridiculous to a man of your stature and won't you just look at those arms! But I suppose it would be better for you to know why my offer to carry the Ring was taken so seriously by the rest of the Council, perhaps?" At a small but curious nod by Boromir, Bilbo lifted the book by his side into his lap and continued.
"Here! This is my book I am writing. It's a memoir about a journey I once went on with Gandalf and Thirteen Dwarves to the Lonely Mountain in Eriador to retrieve the legendary treasure which was guarded by the dragon Smaug."
Boromir inched closer to peer over Bilbo's shoulder at the maps and illustrations as Bilbo described the tale to him in greater detail. As he went on Boromir's eyes began to widen more and more until a sudden realisation dawned on him.
"I'm sorry, I must interrupt. You're not The Great Burglar are you?"
"Why yes, I was called a burglar by the Dwarves, it was part of the job description, but never have I been called 'The Great Burglar'." Bilbo stated. At the completely gobsmacked look on Boromir's face he was prompted to ask, "Why?"
This question slammed Boromir back to the present and with an incredulous laugh he turned to Bilbo and jabbed a finger at him accusingly.
"You! It was you! It's all your fault! Do you realise how much trouble you got me into when I was a child?"
"No?" asked Bilbo confusedly.
"Argggh! I can't believe this! You were my favourite hero until I was about five! This is amazing!" Boromir looked out across the stream, now lost in past memories of his childhood. Then it began, the low-throated chuckles and mirthful giggles began to spill out unwarranted from Boromir's lips this escalated in pitch and volume until he was flat on his back, holding his stomach and literally howling with laughter at the absurdity of the situation.
Bilbo watched him bemusedly with a grin on his face, flattered that Boromir, this great and powerful Man now sprawled on his back before him, had once emulated him. He, who was now an old and weary gentle-hobbit. "Are you quite done, Master Boromir? You look fit to burst! Have you some stray feathers in your shirt? You are giggling like a tickled mad-man!"
"Tickled? Nay! Just at the notion that here before me, exists in the flesh a real-live hero! But I must admit, I did imagine you to be taller!" Boromir spluttered out amid fading hiccups of giggles, which caught in his throat.
Bilbo laughed, "Sorry if I do not quite meet your expectations as The Great Burglar! But would you care to tell me why I got you into such trouble as a child?" he asked, smiling as Boromir wiped the tears from his eyes.
"If you wish. You see, I was but two when I first heard the tale. From the Captain Thorongil, who had come out of the North, as it was, and told me the story of Gandalf the Grey with his Thirteen Dwarves and the infamous Great Burglar! From then on I loved to pretend I was The Great Burglar with my super-natural powers of stealth and cunning to defeat dragons!" Here Boromir grinned and folded up his legs, looking in the air above him as he remembered that time in his too short childhood. Mamma was still alive back then. Oh, they had been happier years.
"As you can imagine," he continued, "My antics got more and more extreme. I would sometimes steal candied sweets from the kitchen and even Mother's jewellery from time to time but there was one day where I guess I went just too far. I stole something from Father…"
FLASHBACK:
Four-year-old Boromir pulled a sheet of a pillow and struggled to tie it around his neck with his baby-fingers. It was common knowledge that all adventurers wore cloaks and The Great Burglar was no exception. He strapped his wooden sword to his side. Thorongil had said the sword was called Sting and it was a spider-bane forged by the Elves in the First Age. Boromir readjusted his 'Sting' and proclaimed a warning to all the friendly house-spiders that occupied his nursery. He did not mind spiders much but he could not say the same for his sword.
Looking at his reflection in the full-length mirror he put on his grimmest face. A then hobbit-sized boy looked growled back at him. Blond-hair, still slighty curly from birth fell about his shoulders. Velvet court robes as befitting a young prince or son of the Steward were exchanged for a rough pair of breeches for outdoors and a white shirt and over all this was a red pillowcase cape. There! He was ready to go steal from a dragon's horde! With a sweep of his cape he strode boldly from the nursery. Imeriel, his nanny, was outside in the corridor speaking with another female servant. Both women paused to coo in delight at the picture Boromir made.
"And where be you off too, young sir?" she questioned, her voice smothered in honey. Boromir always found that so annoying, that tone of voice that was almost always used by women in his company, save his mother. Mamma had said it was because Boromir was exceptionally 'cute', whatever that was supposed to mean. Boromir didn't want to be cute; he wanted to be brave like The Great Burglar!
"Off to steal back some treasure from that dragon, Immie," he said calling her the only name he could pronounce.
"Again?" she asked, turning to her friend she explained, "He's always playing this," then speaking back to Boromir she said, "Well you be careful then and remember to be back in time to have your bath before dinner with your Mother and Father!"
"Sure," Boromir shrugged, then he strode up to them all self-assured, gave them a nod of his head like a perfect gentlemen and said "Excuse me, Mi'ladies!" and trotted off down the hall to the sound of ridiculous feminine giggling behind him.
Boromir had to work fast then if he wanted to get back in time for tea (he didn't care if he missed a bath, he was not overly fond of bathing), for this time the treasure was hid in the top of a dark and spooky tower where the dragon had just started to take up residence. He had seen his Daddy go up to that tower many times and whatever he went up there for the dragon was now guarding it. Boromir just had to make sure he got his Daddy's treasure safe from the dragon before he next went up there!
Boromir turned into a colder corridor. This was a quieter part of the citadel but there were two remaining guards defending this area too. Probably they were also aware of the dragon-problem as well.
"Never fear!" the little boy called as he passed them, "the evil brute shall soon be gone!"
The two soldiers exchanged a glance before one asked the other, "What was he talking about?"
"I have no idea," the other replied smiling at the first soldier.
Boromir then began his ascent of the broad winding staircase up the tower. He had never been here before but he knew this was the way this father must have come, there was only one way to get to the top of the Tower of Ecthelion. Recently he had seen flashes of light emitting from the top of the tower. He only hoped the dragon would be there now so that he could face off in mortal combat.
It seemed to take an age to reach the top. Boromir wiped his small sweaty forehead against a white sleeve and took a slight breather before continuing his journey. Finally he reached the top. There was a small landing and then a tall door. He pushed at the door, but it wouldn't budge. Not to be discouraged, Boromir reminded himself that as a burglar he must be resourceful so taking his sword Sting he began to pick at the gap between the door until something finally clicked beyond the door and he was able to push it open.
Slowly and apprehensively he peered around the door. It had never been this hard to steal things before. Whatever the dragon was guarding it must be really valuable, Boromir thought, and therefore it was even more important that he should steal it back from the dragon. As for the dragon, the room appeared to be quite empty. No flashing lights or anything. Boromir was crest-fallen. How was he to prove himself as a great warrior and burglar if there was no dragon to slay? As long as it lived more things would have to be stolen from it!
However, the room wasn't quite empty. In the middle of the room there was a large pedestal and lying over the top of it was a dark, silk cloth. It was obviously covering something for he could see the shape it made as it covered it. Aha! So the dragon thought to outwit him by trying to hide his treasure! The evil fiend had tried these tricks before. Boromir had uncovered and rescued jewels hidden in a box in his mother's bedroom when the dragon had taken up residence there. All Boromir needed to do was find something to stand on so that he could take what the dragon was hiding. He didn't have far to look. There in the corner of the other side of the room was a dusty old chair.
Boromir pushed the chair to the side of the pedestal and eagerly clambered up and without hesitation removed the black cloth. It was black crystal ball.
"Wow…" Boromir murmured bending over it. It looked like it had an inner-glow, it was obviously magical, that much was certain for, as Boromir was a professional burglar, he was highly educated in all gems magical. Perhaps it was the Arkenstone? In Thorongil's story the King Under-the-Mountain, Thorin Oakensheild had valued it as a highly prized item and it was magical too!
Boromir wanted to touch it.
He reached out his small hand and as it drew near a red swirling light appeared within the globe. He quickly drew his hand back, maybe the dragon was returning? Best to get the thing out of here now while he still could. Just then Boromir heard footsteps approaching up the stairs. Too late! The dragon had come back! He ducked down and hid behind the pedestal on the side opposite the door so that he was concealed.
The door opened smoothly. Boromir gritted his teeth and tried to be brave. This was it; the confrontation between he and the dragon was inevitable. He would have to wait for the opportune moment to strike.
The beast moved around grumbling; it sounded huge! And there was the distinct swish behind him, which had to have been the monstrous tail! Suddenly there came a hiss from above and a deep voice spoke angrily: "Who has been here? Who has dared to touch my stone?"
Boromir cowered at the foot of the pedestal. He loosened his sword from his belt. This was it. He could hear the dragon move around the room, looking for him! He would catch it off guard and attack when it was not prepared. Mentally Boromir counted, 1…2…3… Now!
Boromir leapt up shouting, "Beware foul creature of Udun's Pit! It is I, The Great Burglar, your most terrible foe!" Climbing atop the chair he went airborne as he lunged over the top of the crystal ball and pedestal and stabbed the monster in the back with Sting.
There was a cry of surprise from the beast as he collapsed to the floor and a moan of pain and rage as Boromir's first blow connected.
"Die horrid beast! You won't have my father's crystal ball!" he cried wildly stabbing at the monster. Suddenly the monster rolled over with a roar, "BOROMIR!"
"DADDY!" Boromir yelped while he swung his sword above his head.
Denethor angrily pushed his son off his chest, "Get off me!" he shouted. "What in name of Morgoth are you doing here?"
Boromir visibly flinched. 'Morgoth' was a very strong curse word and it frightened him to hear his Daddy use it is such outrage.
"Um, um, um, um…" he stuttered, too terrified to take his eyes away from his father.
"Idiot child! What have you done?!" Denethor's fury was evident; Boromir had never seen him before like this and even as a grown man and through all the wars he'd fought, he would still hold this memory as the most terrifying he had ever had.
"Nothing, Sir!" Boromir squeaked and automatically jerked his little hand into a hasty salute.
"Don't you dare played stupid with me! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" Denethor was practically in his face now and Boromir was trembling and chewing on the corner of his pillowcase.
"Give me that!" Denethor grabbed the pillowcase cape and lifted it up bringing Boromir up with it. Boromir was so scared he actually screamed.
"Coward!" Denethor spat before he slapped Boromir across the face. That shut Boromir up, but only for an instant.
"Mamma! Mamma!" he cried and kicking his father in the stomach he escaped Denethor's clutches and ran out the door and down the stairs.
"BOROMIR, COME BACK HERE!" came the angry cry.
"No no, Sir!" Boromir yelled back and continued to run, not caring that his face was red and awash with tears or that he had left Sting back up there with that monster that was his father.
He pelted along the corridor, making a beeline for his mother and father's room where he knew she would protect him from his father's wrath. Blurry eyed, he didn't see the tall man turning a corner before it was too late. He crashed into the man's legs and fell over backwards and immediately burst into tears.
"Boromir!" the caring voice reached him and Boromir dimly identified it as Thorongil through his tears.
"Tears? This isn't like you. What's happened to you, Little Solider?"
"Dadda… Dadda he… I was trying to…and he he…" Boromir was so distressed he couldn't string a sentence together so Thorongil calmly picked him up and carried him away wordlessly as he went to find a quiet place where they could not be found by Denethor until he had found out what he had done to the little boy which made him so traumatised.
The Gardens of Healing is where Thorongil bore him. It was on the second level of the city and very quiet and peaceful where they could be undisturbed and where Thorongil could 'heal' the small boy, in a manner of speaking. Even as they were entering the Gardens Boromir was still bawling against his shoulder as Thorongil muttered words of comfort to the boy and rubbed his back soothingly. He seated himself down under a tree, out of sight of the building and hugged the boy close. Security was what he needed now and physical closeness.
Thorongil tried singing an elvish lullaby that he had heard himself as a young boy, growing up in Rivendell as a young boy named Estel. It appeared to work for Boromir began to relax, his small shoulders slackened as his small body stopped jolting from wracking sobs and his small hands unclenched his death grip on Thorongil's jerkin.
"Now, now then, can you tell me what happened, my Brave Soldier?"
Boromir unceremonious wiped his nose on his sleeve, his eyes puffy and swollen, he gulped as he tried to stop his chin from wobbling. After a moment or two he nodded.
"Yep," he croaked.
Thorongil nodded in that strange way he did. Boromir had noticed he did it differently to everyone else.
"Well, I was going on one of my adventures. I was The Great Burglar and I was going to stop the dragon from living in that tower up there," here Boromir pointed above him to the Tower of Ecthelion in the above circle.
"Ahmmm," Thorongil said to show that he was following and understanding.
"And I found this weird black crystal ball up there and I was going to take it but then Daddy came up and I thought he was the dragon and so, so I attacked him."
Thorongil fought hard to stifle a grin or a laugh, the image of little Boromir laying into his father was just too funny for words, considering those involved. Boromir's next words sobered him up though.
"He was ever so mad. And then he hit me…" Boromir choked out making hiccuping noises which were a warning to Thorongil that more tears were on the way,
"Shhh, hush Darling," Thorongil said, taking Boromir once more into a huge embrace, "Your Dadda does not mean to have hurt you. He loves you very much. It is so obvious to everyone."
"But I was just trying to help him with the dragon," Boromir whimpered.
It was then that Thorongil realised that he was just as much to blame. It was, after all, he who had first told Boromir the tale of The Great Burglar, a tale that he had heard from the legend himself. Yet unlike Boromir who would soon be forgiven for this incident, Thorongil knew he wouldn't when he admitted his fault in the matter, which he knew he would have to now.
Thorongil looked at the little boy in his arms who was desperately trying hard not to cry again it seemed, but Thorongil knew that they couldn't stay here all night for Boromir to be ready to face the first circle of the city and his father so he decided he would now cheer Boromir up.
"So where did the mighty Burglar strike this wicked beast?" he asked Boromir, turning the boy to face him. "Was it here? Here?" he asked poking the boy on opposite sides of his ribcage with a gentle finger, delighting in the way the boy jerked in the reaction to each touch. "Or maybe on his chubby underbelly?" Thorongil asked prodding at the boy's remaining baby-fat and wriggling his finger.
Boromir giggled and quickly brought two hands up to capture Thorongil's finger in his own. "Stop it, 'Gil! That tickles!"
"Yes, I knew it would," Thorongil said grinning. Boromir answered by sticking out his tongue, but at least he was smiling now too.
"Are you ready to go back to the Citadel now?" Thorongil asked.
The boy nodded and the two walked hand in hand back up to the first circle.
PRESENT:
Boromir paused and then looked down at himself in the stream. The image was blurred with the movement of the water and for but an instant he saw that small boy peering up at him with a red pillowcase tied round his throat.
"Master Boromir?"
Boromir looked up again, too high once more before smiling sheepishly at the old Hobbit.
"What happened next?"
Boromir sighed, "Well, I did get punished, but my Mother saved me from any further anger from my father and Thorongil admitted to Father that he told me the story about you which caused me to go looking for 'treasures'. I don't know if it was that or other things, but Thorongil left soon after that and never came back. None have heard from him since. He didn't even say goodbye." Boromir's voice betrayed him slightly as it broke during the last sentence.
Bilbo considered telling Boromir that Thorongil and Aragorn, Boromir's Liege Lord, were one in the same. Perhaps it would ease relations between the two Men, as Boromir had been so outwardly hostile towards him at the Council. But then again this matter did not concern him and if Aragorn wanted to tell him or not that was his prerogative.
"Heh, punishment was no Sting for a couple of weeks. I think Daddy, I mean, my Father was feeling the bruises for a few days. And then, no more was said of the matter ever again. I doubt even Faramir knows that particular tale. I never did find out what that crystal ball thing was in the end…I guess I just never wanted to get thinking about that day again, it was not a very good day."
"I'm sorry, Boromir."
Boromir looked up again; meeting the Hobbit's eyes first time.
" Why?"
"For being such a worshipped Hero," Bilbo stated, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Boromir was speechless for a moment, before once again bursting into torrents of laughter. How could he have doubted this Hobbit's heroic qualities for an instant? He had saved Boromir from a miserable bout of depression and had even made him laugh when he hadn't in months! He was a true Hero in Boromir's eyes, and that's all that mattered.
THE END.
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