Son of Gondor
By Dream Painter
---
"One day, our paths shall lead us there and the tower guard shall take up the call:
" 'The lords of Gondor have returned!' "
So said Boromir to me in Lothlórien on that night when he first verbally accepted me as one of his own. So earnest his tone had been then—much like it had been today. My heart breaks to think that this noble man and dear friend of mine shall never again look upon the white city, his Minas Tirith. The silver trumpets shall never again sound for his return, nor will he be laid to rest with his forefathers.
As we send Boromir to his watery grave, I renew my vow to him:
"I will not let the white city fall, nor our people fail."
His final words strengthen my resolve as they echo ever in my mind, encouraging me, warming my heart.
"I would have followed you, my brother, my captain . . . my king."
The boat disappears over the edge of the falls.
"Sleep in peace," I whisper once more, "Son of Gondor."
---
End.