Uhh. a summary is in order, I believe.
So, this is kind of AU-ish. Well, it's totally AU, actually... Just a little heads-up.
What if the ring wasn't destroyed? What if it was all Boromir's fault? What if the Queens of the Valar combined their beings and created a woman powerful enough to set history straight? What if she fell in love with the man she was supposed to guide, only to lose him, over and over again, by following orders? What if she took things into her own hands? What if you read this fic? *Gasp* Please do! Please review! (I swear I didn't mean for that to rhyme...)
Daughter of Goddesses, King of Kings
~Prologue~ Boromir had lost track of time long ago. All he was aware of now was the water bearing the small craft in which he rested along its unending course. The feeling of immense calm that had settled over him after the first few years of floating was seldom interrupted, but when it was, the interruption was vicious. The ring hadn't been destroyed. And it was his fault.
Faramir had taken the ring, as he himself had tried to. The ring had taken control of him, and the lands had plunged into darkness once more. As he had watched the events unfold, the realization had come 'ore him slowly: if he had not tried to take the ring, the fellowship would have split up anyway, but the ring would not have been able to pray on his brother's mind in the way it had, telling him that if only "you're brother had had the power I can grant, he would have not been felled," and not to "make the mistake your brother did, letting this chance slip by..." The visions tore at Boromir's heart like claws of ice. He cried out to his brother, "Let Frodo do what he must! Let him take the ring into Mordor!" But Faramir did not hear, and all was lost as he slew the Hobbits, and slipped the ring around his finger. Again, the golden fog closed around his mind, cutting off the visions, and lulling back to sleep. Ages passed like days, and days passed like ages, until at last, Boromir could no longer remember what had happened, or even who he was. The last thing he remembered... oh that was too much thinking. He couldn't remember what he had been trying to remember.
~*~ It was centuries after the fall of the Valar, the rise of Sauron, and the Kings of the Valar were long gone from the realm of Middle-Earth, and their Queens were greatly weakened by the strain of staying and resisting the power of Sauron. Long had they meditated on and spoken of in counsels the events that led up to the current state of events, all the while leaving the cause of their current grief in a state of half-life. It was Varda and Nienna who eventually decided on the way to change the course of events. They brought it before the others, and after much argument, they had created a form agreeable to all. Their vessel was to be, appropriately, a woman. An immortal, though not elf-kind, who stood as high as the chin of the cause of their grief, Boromir son of Denethor. Her eyes were to be the color of the clear skies, her hair the color of red gold, her skin the color of the newly opened lily, with a small shower of freckles on her cheeks and across her nose.
The Queens of the Valar began to sing then, each pouring her power, her knowledge, and her very existence into this new creation. They sung as they had not sung since the creation of Arda. They sung this creature into being, and they sung themselves, as they were now into her mind. They sung time forwards and backwards, they sung until they could sing no more, and all was as it had to be.
~*~ Here ends the prologue.
What did you think? Like it? Tell me! Hate it? Tell me why! Don't care either way? I guess I won't hear from you!
Ok, so that last bit was stupid, but oh well.
The first chapter will be up soon, (and it will be longer) and Boromir will meet the creation of the Queens of the Valar! La! Should I keep writing it, or should I give up now? REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! Please?
BTW, will someone please tell me about Mary-Sues? I don't know what they are...
So, this is kind of AU-ish. Well, it's totally AU, actually... Just a little heads-up.
What if the ring wasn't destroyed? What if it was all Boromir's fault? What if the Queens of the Valar combined their beings and created a woman powerful enough to set history straight? What if she fell in love with the man she was supposed to guide, only to lose him, over and over again, by following orders? What if she took things into her own hands? What if you read this fic? *Gasp* Please do! Please review! (I swear I didn't mean for that to rhyme...)
Daughter of Goddesses, King of Kings
~Prologue~ Boromir had lost track of time long ago. All he was aware of now was the water bearing the small craft in which he rested along its unending course. The feeling of immense calm that had settled over him after the first few years of floating was seldom interrupted, but when it was, the interruption was vicious. The ring hadn't been destroyed. And it was his fault.
Faramir had taken the ring, as he himself had tried to. The ring had taken control of him, and the lands had plunged into darkness once more. As he had watched the events unfold, the realization had come 'ore him slowly: if he had not tried to take the ring, the fellowship would have split up anyway, but the ring would not have been able to pray on his brother's mind in the way it had, telling him that if only "you're brother had had the power I can grant, he would have not been felled," and not to "make the mistake your brother did, letting this chance slip by..." The visions tore at Boromir's heart like claws of ice. He cried out to his brother, "Let Frodo do what he must! Let him take the ring into Mordor!" But Faramir did not hear, and all was lost as he slew the Hobbits, and slipped the ring around his finger. Again, the golden fog closed around his mind, cutting off the visions, and lulling back to sleep. Ages passed like days, and days passed like ages, until at last, Boromir could no longer remember what had happened, or even who he was. The last thing he remembered... oh that was too much thinking. He couldn't remember what he had been trying to remember.
~*~ It was centuries after the fall of the Valar, the rise of Sauron, and the Kings of the Valar were long gone from the realm of Middle-Earth, and their Queens were greatly weakened by the strain of staying and resisting the power of Sauron. Long had they meditated on and spoken of in counsels the events that led up to the current state of events, all the while leaving the cause of their current grief in a state of half-life. It was Varda and Nienna who eventually decided on the way to change the course of events. They brought it before the others, and after much argument, they had created a form agreeable to all. Their vessel was to be, appropriately, a woman. An immortal, though not elf-kind, who stood as high as the chin of the cause of their grief, Boromir son of Denethor. Her eyes were to be the color of the clear skies, her hair the color of red gold, her skin the color of the newly opened lily, with a small shower of freckles on her cheeks and across her nose.
The Queens of the Valar began to sing then, each pouring her power, her knowledge, and her very existence into this new creation. They sung as they had not sung since the creation of Arda. They sung this creature into being, and they sung themselves, as they were now into her mind. They sung time forwards and backwards, they sung until they could sing no more, and all was as it had to be.
~*~ Here ends the prologue.
What did you think? Like it? Tell me! Hate it? Tell me why! Don't care either way? I guess I won't hear from you!
Ok, so that last bit was stupid, but oh well.
The first chapter will be up soon, (and it will be longer) and Boromir will meet the creation of the Queens of the Valar! La! Should I keep writing it, or should I give up now? REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! Please?
BTW, will someone please tell me about Mary-Sues? I don't know what they are...