For The Little Ones
by Sabaye Leyr
Author's Note: My first LOTR fan fic, based after the movie. Major spoilers, Boromir angst warning. Enjoy!
Boromir could not believe what he had done...Frodo, oh Frodo, please forgive me... he thought desperately.
His senses, sharpened by years of war against Mordor, caught the sound of swords clashing together.
Boromir leapt to his feet, drawing his sword. He ran across the countryside, and up a hill, when his senses told him to turn around.
Merry and Pippin, his Hobbit friends, stood facing the towering Orc and Goblin hybrids.
Dread filled his heart and he ran as he had never run before, savagely shoving the creature's weapon upward and thrusting his sword into it's gut.
"Get behind me!" he shouted while downing another hybrid. A few moments later he looked to see that they had not listened.
"Now!" he roared, swinging his sword savagely.
The fair-haired Hobbits listened this time, sheathing their swords and rapidly backing up.
Boromir fought with a speed and ferocity he didn't know he had.
Those bastards would not get his hobbits.
He raised his horn to his lips, blowing with a great breath. It's call echoed throughout the woods.
After several blows, he continued to slay the wretched, foul creatures.
Suddenly, fire exploded near his shoulder. He looked down. An arrow was embedded near his heart.
The fire pumped through his veins, clouding his head. He couldn't breath, the fire was consuming his chest.
He fought his way through the pain, he climbed back to his feet; he didn't even know he'd fallen to his knees.
He fought off more of the Orc Hybrids, fighting for breath.
Another arrow shot into his gut. He staggered again, pausing and almost falling over.
Boromir surprised himself, he forced himself to stand up.
They would not get his Hobbits; he'd sworn to himself, and he wouldn't forget that.
Boromir was a man of his word.
Orc after Orc fell at his feet. His vision was blurring around the edge.
One tried to get past him to the halflings.
He slashed at it's knees, cutting open it's foul chest. The orc fell, and Boromir swung around.
Laughing eyes stared at him from dark, rotting lids.
One last arrow punctured his stomach, and the fire consumed him.
His sword slashed flesh one last time before his hand wouldn't grip it anymore.
Boromir tried to get back to his feet, but they were lead and wouldn't lift.
He raised his head and saw Merry and Pippin staring at him before their faces twisted in anger and sorrow.
They drew their swords and ran forward, shoving their small weapons into the stomachs of the towering orc, but they ignored it and ripped the Hobbits off their feet, hauling them over their shoulders.
Merry and Pippin screamed, reaching out to him.
Boromir weakly tried to raise his hand.
He hauled himself over, trying to follow, but he could go no further, his life ebbing away with every weakened beat of his heart.
Boromir heard heavy footsteps and he looked up.
Those same laughing eyes were watching him as he heaved his final breaths.
The Orc grinned wickedly, drawing his bow.
Boromir looked straight at him, defiant to the end.
The Orc fired.
Boromir kept his head high.
He'd done it for the little ones. And he'd failed.
