Author's Note: I don't know why, but I am absolutely fascinated with
Boromir. This idea has bugged me since I saw the movie. I don't own the
characters, except for Mayra, so please be nice to me. Hope you enjoy
this. Reviews are appreciated.
The light was nearly blinding when he opened his eyes. He tried shielding his eyes with his hand, but something was different. He studied them for a moment, realizing finally that they were transparent. Spirit form. Yes. That's it. He was dead. He remembered it now, killed by orcs as he tried to redeem himself. He was trying to regain his honor, which he had lost. Lost because he was weak. For one moment he let the ring overtake him and he lost control. He tried to take the ring from the hobbit that carried it. Tried to forcibly acquire the ring. Such a small trinket to loose his honor for. The whole quest had been about honor. His honor, his land's honor, his people's honor. His whole purpose had been to make the weak strong and the pathetic successful. And somehow, even that proved to be too difficult.
He recognized the hall that he had awoken in. He had been there once before, in a journey through his homeland. Radiantly white, it loomed around him like a great beast that had swallowed him whole. The light shining in through great glass windows caused ever-moving shadows across the wide expanse. He got up, and walked to the back of the room. He knew exactly who he would find there and what he must do.
She sat in a large wooden chair, hands folded across her chest. She looked so small, so fragile. She began to speak, but Boromir interrupted her.
"No Mayra, let me talk." She looked sad; he realized that now. Had she been mourning him? Surely she knew what he had done. She nodded in acceptance of his request. "I have failed. The task that I set out to do is not complete." He looked down at the ground, unable to look at the magnificent creature sitting before him. So small, but so very wise. And so beautiful. Suddenly the torment inside him subsided and the feeling of failure seemed to float out of him. "Mayra, I deserve that. Don't shield me from it. Don't waste your sorcery." She looked at him questioningly. She began to speak again, but he stopped her. "I was weak. You must know that. You must have felt it. I failed, and now middle earth can only wait for its destruction."
"But there are others," she said slowly.
"And I have failed them."
"But you have not failed them. You have aided them." He was too caught up in her words to object.
"I don't understand. I tried to take the ring. I betrayed the fellowship and tried to take the ring!"
"It was the little bearer's destiny to leave the fellowship. But it is not forever. They will meet again."
"Yes, but how did I aid them?"
"Do you think the orcs would have kept the stolen ones alive had they not been chased by the fellowship? You held them long enough for them to still smell the fellowship following them. They will continue, fearful of another massacre. They have no time to realize the ones they have stolen are not ring bearers."
"And yet I still feel as if I've failed them."
"They do not see it that way. They call you a brave fighter, Boromir of Gondor. They are all tested by the ring, and know what you have gone through. They do not call you weak." He walked up to her, slowly, stopping to kneel at her feet.
"Thank you Mayra." She smiled, rising to her feet.
"Boromir, people will tell stories about you one day, grand epics about the martyr of the fellowship. Do not humble yourself before me. You are a great man." Standing up, he towered over the tiny sorceress. Smiling, she started to rise, floating up until she was eye level. "Be at peace Boromir." She said quietly, and he began to fade. He tried to remain conscious of the room for as long as he would, but as he faded, his consciousness faded as well. He would be at peace.
The light was nearly blinding when he opened his eyes. He tried shielding his eyes with his hand, but something was different. He studied them for a moment, realizing finally that they were transparent. Spirit form. Yes. That's it. He was dead. He remembered it now, killed by orcs as he tried to redeem himself. He was trying to regain his honor, which he had lost. Lost because he was weak. For one moment he let the ring overtake him and he lost control. He tried to take the ring from the hobbit that carried it. Tried to forcibly acquire the ring. Such a small trinket to loose his honor for. The whole quest had been about honor. His honor, his land's honor, his people's honor. His whole purpose had been to make the weak strong and the pathetic successful. And somehow, even that proved to be too difficult.
He recognized the hall that he had awoken in. He had been there once before, in a journey through his homeland. Radiantly white, it loomed around him like a great beast that had swallowed him whole. The light shining in through great glass windows caused ever-moving shadows across the wide expanse. He got up, and walked to the back of the room. He knew exactly who he would find there and what he must do.
She sat in a large wooden chair, hands folded across her chest. She looked so small, so fragile. She began to speak, but Boromir interrupted her.
"No Mayra, let me talk." She looked sad; he realized that now. Had she been mourning him? Surely she knew what he had done. She nodded in acceptance of his request. "I have failed. The task that I set out to do is not complete." He looked down at the ground, unable to look at the magnificent creature sitting before him. So small, but so very wise. And so beautiful. Suddenly the torment inside him subsided and the feeling of failure seemed to float out of him. "Mayra, I deserve that. Don't shield me from it. Don't waste your sorcery." She looked at him questioningly. She began to speak again, but he stopped her. "I was weak. You must know that. You must have felt it. I failed, and now middle earth can only wait for its destruction."
"But there are others," she said slowly.
"And I have failed them."
"But you have not failed them. You have aided them." He was too caught up in her words to object.
"I don't understand. I tried to take the ring. I betrayed the fellowship and tried to take the ring!"
"It was the little bearer's destiny to leave the fellowship. But it is not forever. They will meet again."
"Yes, but how did I aid them?"
"Do you think the orcs would have kept the stolen ones alive had they not been chased by the fellowship? You held them long enough for them to still smell the fellowship following them. They will continue, fearful of another massacre. They have no time to realize the ones they have stolen are not ring bearers."
"And yet I still feel as if I've failed them."
"They do not see it that way. They call you a brave fighter, Boromir of Gondor. They are all tested by the ring, and know what you have gone through. They do not call you weak." He walked up to her, slowly, stopping to kneel at her feet.
"Thank you Mayra." She smiled, rising to her feet.
"Boromir, people will tell stories about you one day, grand epics about the martyr of the fellowship. Do not humble yourself before me. You are a great man." Standing up, he towered over the tiny sorceress. Smiling, she started to rise, floating up until she was eye level. "Be at peace Boromir." She said quietly, and he began to fade. He tried to remain conscious of the room for as long as he would, but as he faded, his consciousness faded as well. He would be at peace.
